Miles

      Irritatedly, I opened one eye. The sun came into the room as the ringtone of my phone woke me up. I fumbled with my hands in the matters, searching for the phone.

I found it and picked up. My vision was blurry, so there was no use of looking to the screen.

“Hello,” I said, putting the phone on my ears, and closing my eyes again.

“Good afternoon.” A familiar sound that made my eyes open again said.

“Good afternoon.” I smiled turning on my back. I looked at the wall clock, and it read two-thirty.

“I feel we are in old Britain with their fashion, and we are standing in an ancient building.”

“From a couple of afternoons?” I laughed.

“I just felt this vibe.”

“I don’t know how because old Britain didn’t have smartphones, and we don’t have a British accent.”

“Boomer!” She whined.

“It’s just not logical,” I said.

“Fine, I will explain myself later. Scott is still busy?” She asked.

“Very.”

“Then, I finish by four. Send me your location.”

“Okay. Call me when you arrive.” I said.

“Okay. I’ll have to go.”

“Okay, later.” I said and hung up.

I connected the phone to the apartment sound system, picked a random playlist, and threw the phone to the bed. I got up and got in the shower.
 
     I turned off the shower tap and got out. I wrapped my lower body and walked out of the bathroom. It was still three fifteen, so it was early. I put on my boxers, and I ruffled with my dripping hair, sitting on my spinning chair.

I scrolled through social media to pass time. When it was three forty, I got up and walked to the wardrobe. I pull out the gradient grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt; easy clothes to pull off when fitting.

I put them on, and stood in front of the mirror. I brushed my hair backward, applied perfume, put on my watch, and socks; I threw earlier in the drawer.

        The screen of my phone read that Milia was calling, and I declined. I slipped in my black Nike and walked to the stairs of the building.

I stood in the building, looking for her. A Red BMW, which had a flasher on, honked twice at the other side of the road. I put on my round Ray-Ban and walked out.

I looked in the direction of the cars and crossed the street.

“Hey,” I said as I got in the passenger seat.

“You should’ve walked to the pathway!” She yelled pulling the gear to drive. “Where are we heading to?” She asked.

“You will take the next U-turn, and you will park,” I said.

“Why?”

“We are taking my car,” I stated.

“Miles look.” She parked in the same direction we were at.

“What?”

“I’m tired of everyone making fun of me. I need to improve my driving skills.” She turned her body toward me. “I can’t find someone better than you!” she added.

The frustration was wiped off my mind. Come on, this bitch has a BMW G20, and she doesn’t know its model. She isn’t a bad bitch; at all. Add to that, I’ll leave my car for ten days.

“Please Mr. Speedy.” I pointed with my five fingers to the road. I could sense her glee while she changed the gear back to Drive.

I pulled the seat arm back because my knees were pressing against the dashboard.

“Milia, come on, I’m seeing your back from here. First of all, you need to relax.” Her chest was rubbing against the wheel.

“Move the seat backward,” I instructed her.

“I won’t have control," she looked at me.

“You asked me to enhance your non-existent driving skills,” I said, and she frowned, then fixed the seat position.

“As long as you can reach the pedals, it’s okay,” I added.

I placed my arm in the inner door frame as she drove.

It was all good until she pushed on breaks. “You know, the leader always notifies people before the camel sits.”

“Huh?” She seemed clueless.

“You have to have a sense when you press the pedals. Like we didn’t need to stop suddenly. You could’ve pressed it more slightly earlier, then you would've stopped gradually. Stopping suddenly can make cars behind you crash.” I explained, and she nodded.

The lights went green, and again, she slammed the gas. I looked to her feet. She was wearing heels, that’s why.

“Take the heals off,” I complained.

“What? Why?”

“You can’t sense it because you got heels on.”

“Fine,” She was going to pull off until I cut her.

“Don’t,” I said grabbing the wheel, and she kept looking until she earned confidence to look to her feet.

She slammed it another couple of times until she got it.

“I have never thought of it.” She smiled at me.

We arrived at the mall, and she parked peacefully. “Let’s start by Aeropostale?”

“Okay.” She said, and we started walking.

We entered the shop, and I walked to the t-shirt stand. I eyed the Polos.

        After I grabbed a couple of cotton shorts, and five quoted t-shirts, Milia walked up to me.

“Miles try this on.” She handed me a tropical short-sleeved shirt with orange leaves and navy background.

“That’s not exactly my style.”
“Then go for a change!” I added it to the pile in my arm.
  
      I made sure that the t-shirts and shorts fit me, then looked at the shirt she handed me. I put it in on and walked out of the fitting room.

“I don’t know.” I looked down at myself, and then at her.

“Miles you rock it!” Her excitement made me smile. “I mean I like your outfits, but this gives me Cuba vibes!” She gathered her hands.

“But you don’t  ware it like that, ” she unbuttoned it from the top, revealing my bare chest. She took off her necklace and placed it on the skin showing. She couldn’t reach my neck.

“Add a chain, khaki shorts, and you’ll be hot mess.” She said turning to look at the mirror.

“Let’s pretend it’s not a Milia written on the chain.” We both looked at the reflection of me in the mirror.

“I like it!” Convinced, I said. She clapped and dropped her necklace in the shirt.

“I’ll bring it,” I said as I walked to the fitting room, but she was overjoyed to reply.

         “No Milia!” I yelled in the cashier line we stood in after I changed.

“Trust me. you will regret it!”

“Even both got blue.”

“That’s a navy background, and those are turquoise leaves.”

“I’m just taking three. That’s it!” I extended it to three because she was so stubborn. I was yelling at this point.

“Okay!” She got a shirt with palm trees out from  like twelve shirts in her arms.

“I don’t even know how you're holding your figure with this weight.”

“Funny.” She frowned and walked to the area of the shirt to replace the rest.

      “Look here.” She said as we were walking out. She held her phone up to the mirror, and I assume she wanted a mirror selfie.

I walked closer to her, held the bags in one hand, smiled, and placed my hand on her shoulder.

From where did this come from? Why do I have to be such a creep? My conscious yelled because it wasn’t my act. Should I apologize?

“I’m sorry. It was a reflex.” This made it more awkward. I was never so unsure about a gesture. I’ve always owned it.

“Don’t be!” She said scrolling through the photos. “The built-in LEDs in the mirror gives a cool effect to the photo.” I leaned in to look on the screen.

“Yes!” I agreed.

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Note:
This chapter was long, so I split it into two parts.
Hope you like it!
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Salma:)