Page 25 of Doxed

My time in the forest was nice at first. It felt like a relaxing wilderness retreat. But now it’s become boring. All I do all day is hang out in my room and watch movies or I work out or go for walks in the woods.

I really wanted some human interaction today, even if it is grumpy Miles, but he didn't answer when I knocked on his office door, and I'm too chicken to sneak back into his bedroom.

So, I slip on my shoes and take a walk through the trees.

I stick close to the house so that I don't get lost, but tucked away a little away from the house is a tall wooden barn.

I look around me, checking my surroundings before carefully walking toward the barn.

The only sound out here is the birds chirping high above in the trees and the rustle of pines as the breeze whispers past them.

In front of the barn is a large slab of concrete and I place my hand on the tall door. I push against the door, but it doesn't budge. Licking my lips, I try one more time, pushing as hard as I can, and it finally gives, moving to the side a few feet.

Leaning my head in, I peek around. There's only a helicopter. Oh. There aren't any other doors or even any windows. This is just a helicopter hangar.

Hmm. This man keeps getting more interesting.

It’s just as hard to close the barn door as it was to open it, but I manage and make my way back to the house. It was nice to get outside and walk through nature.

As I step onto the back deck, I see Miles’ Porsche driving up the driveway. The asshole wasn't even here!

Hurrying through the house, I wait by the door to the garage with my arms crossed. Finally, the door swings open, Miles’ grumpy face level with mine until he takes the final two steps, his chest resting against my chin.

“Can you move?” he snaps, his body pushing me back a step as he walks into the kitchen and setting a bag on the island.

“You just leave whenever you please!” I cross my arms, the motion pushing my breasts higher in my sports bra.

Miles’ green eyes fall down, staring at my chest before snapping back to my eyes. “Since when did I have to run my decisions by you? This is my fucking house.” He glares at me, and his anger just pisses me off more. I glare back.

“You leave me here with nothing! I’m bored!” I shout.

“You’re bored?” he asks, tossing me a box from the plastic sack he carried in.

I scramble forward, trying to catch the red box he’s so rudely throwing at me. Looking down, I see a handheld gaming console. With an angry sigh, I focus on Miles again. That's kind of nice. “Thank you.” I force out.

“I got you some games, too.” He pushes the sack closer to me at the end of the island. “Let me see it, I’ll get it set up for you while you choose a game to play.” He holds out his hand, and I give him the box.

He quietly takes it to the couch, and I pull out the thin game boxes, looking them over. A multiplayer racing one seems fun. And maybe we could play it together.

I sit down on the couch next to Miles, feeling like a child waiting for their parent to open their new toy. His fingers fly across the screen, setting up a profile for me and connecting to his WiFi.

He looks at me expectantly, and I offer him the game I chose. “Wanna play with me?” I offer a small smile.

He makes a noise in his throat, like a laugh, but cuts it off abruptly. “Sure, but,” he pauses for a second, sighing. “Let’s take it to my room to play on the TV.” He takes the game and pops it into the console. I have to act like I haven’t snuck into his room twice.

“Your room?” I feign surprise. “Okay.” Miles stands and I follow him up to the third floor to his loft style room.

He walks straight to the TV and starts messing with cords and the gaming console.

“Wow, it’s nice up here,” I say with as much surprise as I can fake, taking a seat on the soft, dark sectional.

It squishes underneath me, and I fight the urge to sink into it and fall asleep.

“Don’t get used to it,” he says with his back to me, and I roll my eyes. Nice Miles didn’t last very long.

Miles unfolds to his full height and comes to sit on the couch, leaving a few seats between us. He hands me the small controller, keeping the first player one for himself, of course, and gets the game started for us.

We play for hours, shifting on the couch to get in our best competitive position.

“No! Ah! AH!” I scream, trying to dodge an exploding shell.

“Heheh,” Miles chuckles maliciously as he crosses the finish line ahead of me once again, but I don’t watch his victory lap.

I chance a look at him because this is the first time I've ever heard him laugh, even if it’s at my expense.

My breath catches in my throat as I stare at him in the corner of the curved couch.

Leaned back, his torso takes up the entire length of the deep couch, his black shirt rests against his lean body and his long legs stretch and lie against the coffee table.

My eyes eat up the expanse of his body, and I have to force myself to turn away before he notices.

He clicks out of the video replay of his stupid little dinosaur flying across the finish line and goes back to the screen where we pick our characters. I guess we’re playing again. Not that I mind, I'm actually having a lot of fun.

“One more round and then I’ll cook dinner,” he says, his eyes focused on choosing the color of his dinosaur.

“Okay,” I agree, choosing the ghost that I’ve been using all day.