𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬

29 - airport

Eventually, her crying stops and I'm able to fall asleep knowing that she's okay, for now at least.

.....

"I have a surprise for you." Mila tells me as we walk through the streets of Argentina, she has a tiny grin on her face and various different shopping bags hang from her grasp.

I'm also carrying some bags, despite my protest. But if I think about this way, the longer I get Mila all to myself then the longer we can prolong the inevitable.

As soon as we get home, she'll get in shit for the tape and I'll get in even more shit for stealing a jet and taking her to my fathers hotel. But it's worth it for that damn smile of hers.

"What's my surprise?" I question, letting her lead the way. She has more confidence today, wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton heels, sparkly jewelry, a little skirt and sunglasses atop her head.

"I booked a restaurant called..." She takes out her phone, showing me the screen that tells me the name of the restaurant.

It takes us a solid twenty minutes to walk, so I talk her ear off, telling her about the next two month plan for my hockey team. She then explains her cheer captain routines to me.

Whether she listened to me, I haven't a clue, but listening to her is totally fine with me. Being the leader of that team gives her another confidence boost, which you can never have too much of.

We eventually stop in front of the little restaurant, in which she picks a table upstairs. There's candles and a vase of lillie's in the middle of the setting.

"Okay, are you ready for your surprise?" She asks excitedly as I pull out her chair for her and we take our seats.

"I thought this dinner was the surprise." Mila shakes her head at my assumption, bouncing her leg up and down at the assumption.

I make sure to steady her knee by touching mine against hers, like usual, her breath hitches and I can't help but flash her a teasing grin.

"We are in public!" She whisper hisses while a small laugh escapes me. "I literally only grazed your knee!" I retort back, shutting up when a waitress walks over to us.

"Anything I can get you guys?" The waitress doesn't write our orders down, simply memorizing them on the spot after I tell her, but before she leaves. She places a small box in front of me.

Mila thanks her and ushers me to open it when the waitress walks off. "You better understand this sentiment, because I'm not a sentimental person."

"Well I think we both know that." I mumble, unraveling the ribbon on the box. She kicks my shin under the table in retaliation. "Asshole. Just hurry up."

"Okay, okay." I pick up the pace, ripping off the cello tape with my teeth as Mila watches me with her mouth wide open.

"Everything okay over there?" I tease, just because I can. She nods, closing her mouth and crossing her legs under the table.

Smooth Mila.

When I finally get this box open—wrapped in multiple layers, by the way—a menu is sitting at the bottom and a pack of fresh colouring pencils sit on top of it.