Dazzled Read Free Page A

running his hands through his too-dark auburn hair. It was hard to say how I felt: excited, pleased, worried and, truthfully, sorry for myself.
    When Miles had told me the news, that he was flying out to LA, like a real actor, I felt as if I’d been cut in half. The better half of me was as happy as he was, reveling in the amazing news; the other half was already in mourning, the thought of being without him for three long weeks almost unbearable. But this was his big chance – I couldn’t let him see that I was half-hearted about it, even as half my heart shriveled unhappily.
    “Have you got your passport?” I asked for the fourth or fifth time. I knew I was annoying him, I just couldn’t help myself.
    “Ye-es!” he rolled his eyes.
    “And you’ll text me when you get there?”
    “If my phone works. Or I’ll email you. Do you think my phone will work? Oh God, Clare, what if I make a complete arse of myself?”
    His irritation was suddenly replaced with anxiety. I wanted to hug him, to soothe him. Instead I shoved my hands in my pockets, to stop them reaching out for him.
    “You’ll be fine,” I intoned automatically, while wondering if he really would be okay. He was prone to arseish behavior when he got nervous. Nerves made me mute; they had the opposite effect on Miles. He hated uncomfortable silences, always trying to find something funny to say to fill the gap – sometimes hideously inappropriate things that he later regretted.
    His flight was called and it was time for him to go. For a brief moment his eyes were wild with uncertainty, then he blinked and I could see that he was giving himself a mental shake. Finally, now he was going, I allowed myself to reach up and give him a hug.
    “Look after yourself,” I said into his neck, feeling his warm skin on my cheek. “Text me when you get there.” I couldn’t help repeating myself.
    He nodded wordlessly and hugged me tight enough to crack a rib. I didn’t care. Then he slung his carry-on bag over his shoulder and strode away. He was halfway across the concourse when he turned and yelled, “Love you, Clare!”
    People turned to stare; several laughed.
    I watched until he was out of sight. It felt like the sun had just gone down – my own personal sun.
    “Love you, too, Miles,” I whispered.

Babe in Toyland

    Miles

    It was nine hours into the 11 hour flight and I could feel my legs cramping up. I shifted uncomfortably, wondering how irritated the woman next to me would be if I asked her to move again, so I could get past her and stretch my legs in the aisle.
    “These seats aren’t really made for tall people, are they?” she said, sympathetically glancing in my direction. Her voice was low and she had a soft American accent. She must have been nearly forty but she was dead sexy. My dick definitely noticed. Lovely: cramp and a hard-on. Her clothes were really cool and trendy, unlike me, and she was totally at ease in her own body. Plus – that voice!
    “I think these seats are made for midgets with a bad attitude,” I agreed.
    She frowned.
    “There’s no need to be offensive about our vertically challenged friends,” she intoned, with an expression that could have frozen oxygen.
    I felt my face get hot. Shit! I’d offended her.
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean… it was just a joke… I…”
    She ignored my half-arsed apology with a sniff and went back to reading Vogue . I sank lower in my seat – she definitely wasn’t going to move for me now. Crap.
    I stared out of the window, trying to take my mind off my tortured muscles. I couldn’t quite believe I was on my way to Hollywood. It felt unreal and I was even more wired than usual – it was a bit like having one of those anxiety dreams where you don’t know the answers to a sudden test, or your molars turn to chalk and fall out. Tentatively, I checked my teeth with my tongue. Nope, they were still there. I glanced at the woman in the next seat and caught her staring at me. She looked