My Name Is Miles Morales Novels & Stories

“You…you…I can’t marry you. I don’t even know you.” “My name is Miles. There, now you know me.” I rolled my eyes, “I think I would need a little more than just your name in order for me to marry you. And you don’t even know me.” “Well, that’s not all the way true.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. “You seem to be kind and sweet soul, possibly too kind and set for this calloused world. And if I’m being quite frank those kinds of people are far from murderers and con artists. Besides, you have this nervous look in your eyes that makes me believe that you aren’t the criminal kind.”

I silently mourned the loss of his heat. "My name is Miguel Crescents. It is very nice to meet you, Mate." He said. "It is nice to...." I stopped. "Mate?"

"I don't know where you get these wild ideas from. By the way, I heard a new cafe just opened back home. We should check it out when I'm back." Or the time when he switched his all-black profile picture to one with a cartoon avatar. Worried, I'd called him and joked self-deprecatingly, "Have you really met someone taller, slimmer, and cuter than me?" Xavier had evaded that question as well, and instead asked me, "Are you working on Memorial Day?" "Yeah." "Guess we can't meet up, then. It would be tedious." When I finally snapped out of my daze, Xavier was no longer looking at me. His gaze was fixed on his phone as his thumbs flew over the keyboard.

She told them proudly, and they blinked. “How on earth`s name did she become a senior agent so fast, Morgan!?” The blue-eyed one asked, and she rolled her eyes. “How do you expect me to know that, Brian?” She asked him with a snap, and he sneered at her. “Once again, we are sorry for the way we acted, Miss….” Denzel paused, and I immediately got tired of introducing myself under a false name hundreds of times. “Rosaura Morales,” I said, and Brian's eyes widened.

"It's an honour to meet you, sir." Mr Morales took his hand and shook it firmly. His grip was strong despite his age, and his eyes were observant as they assessed Killian—taking in the expensive clothes, the confident bearing, the protective way he stayed close to Annie. "Killian Zerok," Mr Morales said thoughtfully. "That name sounds familiar. I feel like I've seen it in the business section of the paper." "Possibly," Killian said smoothly. "My family has various business interests in Seattle."

“Yeah. It is.” He shifted again, then slowly—carefully—lowered himself onto the rail a few feet away from me, like he was giving me plenty of escape room. “I’m Miles, by the way. In case you were wondering. Or not. You don’t have to tell me your name. I’m not… I’m not trying to be weird.” “Tessa,” I muttered, surprising myself. “And you’re already weird, but it’s fine.” He huffed another small laugh. “Fair. I’ve been told that before.”

What other words could I possibly use? “It’s my turn anyways! Let me introduce myself” he added, smiling as he did. Despite my disposition, I reluctantly put my feelings aside for now and gave him my attention. “My name is Miles Hernandez! I am four years old, I like pancakes, cakes, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and-

“I will be calling her now.” Miles paused in surprise, unable to respond. Aiden stepped out again. “Mom, just let me--” “Your mother, Miles!” she shouted again, and finally, Aiden gave up. Miles slowly found his feet, beaten and bloodied and wobbly on his knees. He took the phone, typed in his mother’s number, and handed it back. Ms. Morales immediately held it to her ear, arms crossed. They waited in severed silence for a long time, listening to the muffled ring of Ms. Morales cellphone. Miles’s mother answered, and for just a minute, Ms. Morales stepped out of the room.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

MICHAEL'S POV. I sat quietly on the couch shaking the glass of wine in my hand, my mind still clouded with guilt. I still couldn't believe Allen talked me into this evil act, it wasn't because I was righteous, I was the complete opposite. My name was Micheal but I was known among the billionaires as “The drug devil”. I was a drug dealer, one that you shouldn't mess with…one that valued money more than family. I was someone who sent shivers through people's spine, there was no single person that crossed me and never lived.