Chris Miles Skins Novels & Stories

I probably would have been okay to get some sleep, but something kept me up, checking over him like a mama hen. Footsteps creak on the stairs behind me, and I turn to greet him. My words catch in my throat. Miles stands in the doorway, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hang loosely on his hips. His dirty blonde hair loose around his shoulders instead of in its usual bun. The bandages I applied last night cover parts of his torso, but they can't hide the defined muscles underneath. Various tattoos peek out between the gauze - nothing excessive like some of the other club members, just elegant line work that complements his frame.

She sounded angry, and Rory could tell she was lying about her feelings vanishing. Miles was the type of guy she would never allow her friend to end up with. He had piercings all over his mouth and face, and the tattoos had to be the worst, which she didn't mind but Caro had been a victim of violence. Miles had physically and emotionally tortured her, and if Rory had a gun, she would have shot Miles to prevent her friend from having to go through those awful experiences again.

he snarled. “You will surely beg and grovel for me to return” he smirked before he turned around, and walked away. Miles shook his head, “Boss, Micko has a big fan base, it will be a problem if he goes online and-” Miles nodded, “I understand” Cutting the Manager off, he turned around and left, those who came to audition took a liking to Miles, the moment they discovered that he was one of the Agora sons. “He is so cute” a girl shrieked.

***** Christian’s POV The sound of gloves meeting flesh echoed in the boxing ring—sharp, rhythmic, grounding. It was supposed to help me focus. It usually did. Not today. Sweat slid down my temple, stinging my eyes, but it wasn’t what was clouding my vision. I threw a lazy jab, missed the timing completely, and a second later, Miles’s glove connected squarely with my jaw. Not hard enough to hurt—just enough to remind me I wasn’t here. “Jesus, Chris.” Miles backed off a step, breathing heavy and sounding annoyed. “You’re getting your ass handed to you and you’re not even trying to stop it.”

“She told me what you said, you know. When she broke things off, how you took it on the chin. And about the real reason why you wouldn’t let me out of that bet.” Miles’ face flushes in embarrassment, but he quickly raises his cup to his lips to hide it, taking a big swig of whiskey. “Yeah, well,” he sighs after swallowing it down, wiping his mouth on a forearm. “I tried to be a decent friend at some points. I just suck at consistency I guess.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Something like that.” He stares down into his cup defeatedly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he mutters.

he criticizes his partner’s care for African-Americans. “Well, I may not be a savior for black people. But at least I didn’t kill any of them like you did!” he responds back. “If you truly cared about this black man, then why did you just stood there like a ignoramus watching me shoot him? You could have told me to stop. But you said and did absolutely nothing. Honestly, you are equally as evil as me!” he told him. Chris forces Brian to let go of him. He wipes off the dirtiness that Brian left on his uniform.

I murmured. "If you're worrying about cash, just say so." Miles hooked his arm around my waist, staring at me from under his long lashes. "Stop it." "What?" "It's your hard-earned money." "So? I don't really need it," Miles said with a frown drawing fine lines on his naturally tan skin. His heavy arm wrapped around my smaller build. His wavy hair somewhat smelled of whiskey and paint. "Sorry about this." He lifted my palm to kiss the side, where one of his carving knives had left quite a distinct one-inch scar.

Her black-tipped fingers slide through mine as she rolls her body, dropping to the floor a few times, swiftly bouncing back up, somehow making the promiscuous move look classy and elegant. A warm hand on my arm brings me back to reality, as I blink into focus. Miles' face materialises before me. He looks good. Miles is wearing a plain black, V-neck t-shirt, ripped jeans, and his leather jacket. The sleeves are pushed to his elbows, showing off his lightly tanned arms. I lean into him momentarily, wanting to get closer to him. "Isobel," he says softly, looking devastatingly handsome with his jaw slightly swollen, the music drowning his voice. "You okay?"

Mateo screamed in defence while Vittoria shot back, "A one time thing? Why would you even smoke in the first place? How dare you bring shame to this family!" "Mom, you can't call Mateo a shame." Tina squealed, "Then it has to be you." Vittoria snapped at her while Tina's face trembled, "The one who is a weakling and a disgrace to me and this family!" "Mom," Tina's voice shuddered, "Mom, how...how can you...say..." "Say what? Friends beat you up in school? Why would they do that? You're a disgrace to me Tina because I know who I am, and I know how many people who fear me, no one crosses me, I'm that great,"

I smelt the figure looming behind me before he spoke. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd take that." Miles' familiar voice made me turn around to look at him. The bright lights at the club made me squint my eyes as I assessed him. He was dressed in a wine colored Ralph Lauren t-shirt tucked into blue fitted jeans. As usual, he looked impeccably put together, but I could sense the undercurrent of sleazy seeping off him.