2.8 | Miles Away

15 | fifteen

1 5

(the one where Noelle's officially run out of chapters...)

THE NIGHT BREEZE chilled me to the bone.

Belatedly, it hit me that I should've brought my coat, but I was too determined to find Miles to even care. After several minutes of wandering about, looking this way and that, I slowed to a halt.

A lone figure paced before a black car in the parking lot. Under the soft lamps overhead, I saw that his hair was far more tousled than it had been. He ran a swift hand through it every so often, and his strides were agitated. He'd shed his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was pushed up to his elbows.

"Miles?" I called hesitantly.

He stopped mid-stride and looked up. That mask of indifference was firmly back in place, and I shivered at the coldness in his eyes. This was a Miles I didn't know at all—one who was brittle and frustrated, tethering on the final thread of his patience.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, in a kind of empty, deadened voice.

I steeled myself and went to him. "I just—you left so quickly that I was worried. Are you alright? I know that your dad's announcement must've come as a shock to you..."

"A shock?" He gave a mirthless laugh; bitter and angry, it was a grating sound. "No, it isn't, because this is exactly what he fucking does. He enrolled me at Riverton even though it was Linville that I wanted to go to, and made me study law until I switched majors behind his back. And now, he's even planned out a career for me! It doesn't matter that I already have one—which I created by myself, with money I earned, with my own hard work. It doesn't matter that this is the same school with kids who treated me like shit until I dropped out. It doesn't fucking matter what I want—it never did!"

I swallowed, my hands twitching by my sides. I wanted to do the one thing I did best, what had always come naturally to me when I was with him. My fingers itched to draw him into my arms, press my cheek to his hair and feel him breathing quietly against my neck.

But I wasn't his girlfriend. Maybe not even his friend.

So I could only watch in silence as he let out a sound—halfway between another bitter laugh and a desperate sob. Shoulders hunching in defeat, he sat down on the hood of his car and stared down at the ground.

"When I returned to Caverly," he said, his voice so quiet I barely heard him, "I just thought... I thought that I could... I thought that things would be different."

Slowly, I stepped closer and sat next to him. "Things are different," I told him softly. "The Miles I knew six years ago wouldn't have left the party. He wouldn't have said the things you had earlier, or admitted how unhappy he was. He would've taken it all in and suffered in silence. But that's not you anymore. You know what you want and you work hard to get what you want. And if this isn't what you want...then don't."

He glanced at me, a silent question in his eyes, and I shrugged.

"Don't do it," I repeated. "I learnt a long time ago that life's too short to do things that make you unhappy. If you spend your whole life trying not to disappoint people, you'll only end up disappointing yourself."

He was silent for so long that I began to think I'd pissed him off for good. But then he let out a slow breath. "I needed to hear that. Thank you."

"Anytime."

He shot another glance at me and frowned. "Why didn't you bring your coat?"

"I didn't think about it. Keeping warm was kind of the last thing on my mind when I came looking for you..."

My eyes widened as he grabbed his discarded suit jacket and draped it over me. All at once, I was enveloped by his scent. I fought the urge to bury my nose against the collar and breathe him in. Old books, faint soap and a familiar aftershave that I realized he still wore, even after all these years.

If I closed my eyes, I swore it'd feel like I was still wrapped within his arms.

Blinking hard, I looked up at the night sky. "Should we head back in?"

I felt rather than saw him hesitate. "In a bit."

"Okay," I whispered, pulling his jacket tighter around myself. "Good."