"Always," I reply, waving them off.
And when they leave, I realize I'm about to spend the next two weeks alone with Miles. Not going to be the best two weeks of my life. Miles isn't much for talking or interacting. Quiet Time starts, and without Jack to make me laugh, Harry to play cards and say stupid shit, and Ethan to cuddle, I see why Ethan decided to become such a dedicated reader. There's simply nothing else to do, and soon I'm so bored I almost want to jump out the window. Luckily, it's locked.
I have no choice but to try and talk to Miles, whether he responds or not, just like Jack does all the time. And I realizewhy Jack doesn't mind whether Miles answers or not. It's better than silence.
"Like any sports, man?" I ask, and the room stays quiet, like he hasn't realized I'm talking to him. I'm not sure if I should repeat the question, but eventually he looks my way as if he's just noticed I've spoken and shrugs. That's enough of an answer.
"I'm big into sports, but I haven't figured out yet if we get to watch any NFL games here. If we don't, I'm doomed. I'll have to call my dad every week so he can update me on the scores and the best plays," I say, laughing. Miles doesn't laugh back. Just keeps staring. "I was doomed to like the Dolphins. My stupid dad's a fan. So now I get to watch us get destroyed every season. You like football?"
He doesn't answer, but he shrugs with one shoulder. That'll do.
"What are you into? I'm sorry I never asked. Sometimes my mind is so busy I forget important stuff like checking in on my friends." He keeps staring, weighing whether it's worth answering. By some miracle, he decides it is.
"I like biology."
I raise an eyebrow. I already know that, I heard him talking about it before, but I want to make him talk. "Biology? Like what part?"
He seems surprised I'm actually asking. "Microbiology," he says. "How all the organelles function perfectly in order, and each one behaves like its own little living thing."
"You're studying nursing?" I ask. He nods and sits up.
"Do you want to know more about organelles?" he asks, and I chuckle.
"Sure," I say. I couldn't care less about organelles, but I'm interested in how excited he gets, and that, for the first time since I arrived, he's actually talking to me.
For the next few minutes, I listen to everything aboutorganelles. He talks almost nonstop, not really caring whether I'm following or not.
"So, you're saying there's like a tiny creature that carries elements into the organelle?" I ask.
“No.” He says, in disbelief that I'd say something like that, and I laugh, loud. He starts explaining it all over again with the technical terms. He doesn't care when I start laughing. I'm just happy to see him this excited.
Over the next few days, I keep showing interest in biology. He moves from organelles to the chemical compounds inside mitochondria, and I start thinking maybe I should have gone into nursing too. First, because Ethan is there, and second, because Miles could help me pass. But I shake the thought. It doesn't make any sense. If it's as hard as Miles makes it sound, and it probably is, I don't stand a chance.
I really, really miss Ethan. I miss having him close all day, every day. I miss knowing I can go to his bed and cuddle anytime. I miss bratting and bantering, getting on his nerves and talking nonstop. I miss how good he makes me feel, how intelligent and dedicated he is, how safe he makes me feel. His presence, his eyes, the way he's always on my back about stuff. Everything. I keep listening to the radio he gave me at every possible moment, the music making me dream that we're together. I don't even care if Miles sees the radio. I know he won't say anything.
I miss Jack too, but obviously, it isn't the same.
MMA is rougher than ever. It sucks not having everybody there, and Garrett is stuck with us. Reed left for the break, thankfully. But Garrett is much worse than Reed. He seems to have clocked that I'm flying solo these days, and he's itching for revenge. Every chance he gets to train with me, which I dodge like crazy, despite Griff's rule about everyone pairing up eventually, he leans in and hisses:
"I'm gonna get you, pretty boy. Just when you least expect it,when your eyes are shut and full of shampoo, I'll get you."
It scares the crap out of me. The way he grins, all teeth, like he could give Pennywise a run for his money. Plus, he always finds excuses to grab me during training. If I get too close, he tries to run his hand on my ass, my dick, anything. I'm pretty convinced the guy is a legit psycho, here for something bad, probably serious mental issues.
During the break, we get to hang out in the rec room as much as we want, except for Quiet Time. Poor Miles can't join, and I realize I don't have any other friends there. I spend the time staying as far from Garrett and his gang as possible. I try climbing the big tree in the courtyard and hiding among its branches, or lying inside the trampoline, which is usually empty and queue-free. At least there, I'm safe behind the netting. Or so I tell myself.
Griff does his rounds to check on everyone, and he always catches me solo. One day, he comes up while I'm sitting on the bench under the tree, about to climb and disappear. My heart races when I see him approach.
Did I screw up somehow?
But he just smiles. "Relax, you're not in trouble. Actually, I've been really impressed with how you've been handling yourself these past few weeks. The food thing, I've only had positive reports. I want to talk about your plans after you leave here. I do this assessment with all the guys. Let's chat after MMA today. You up for that?"
I nod, mouth dry despite his reassurances. I have no clue what he wants to talk about regarding my future. I never thought I'd have a career, always figured I'd die young or something. But now it looks like I'm not dying anytime soon, and if I stay on my current path without changing, I'm headed for real prison. This is my last shot at turning things around. I get that. It just feels unreal.
MMA is insane as usual. Griff decides he wants to kill us, andhe's going to follow through. No time to breathe between sets, and he puts us to spar constantly. I'm so tired my lungs burn, I can't see straight with the sweat pouring into my eyes, and my hair is plastered to my forehead. I still try my best, and when it's over, Griff comes to me.
"Good session, kid. Meet me in twenty?"
I nod, bolt to the showers to rinse off and change before heading to his office.
