Begin Again

chapter nine

I GROAN FROM the ache in my feet as I shuffle into my apartment. All I want to do is take a hot bath and possibly nap before tackling the mounds of homework awaiting me. I'd just finished my shift at the coffee shop I work at in Midtown, and working in Midtown is as close to working in Hell as a person can get. Tourists usually flood in and out of the place, and there is never a moment for me to rest my feet.

Dropping my keys into the dish we keep by the door, I'm about to call out for Veronica and Talia when I freeze.

Miles is standing in the middle of the living room, a basket in one hand, as he regards me with a warm smile. I stared quizzically at him, walking in slower than usual.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I ask.

"I had to meet up with Talia for some classwork."

I look around the empty apartment in confusion. "Is she here?"

Miles shakes his head. "She left a couple of minutes before you came in." When I still look confused, he gestures to the basket in his hand. "I thought we could hang out. Maybe have a picnic? It's a nice day out." It's barely fifty degrees out, and my lips fidget as I feel a laugh bubbling up.

"As friends, of course," Miles adds. To my surprise, he seems to be growing uncomfortable with my lack of a response which only causes my amusement to grow.

"A picnic, huh?" I question, eyeing the basket in curiosity. He nods, his emerald eyes intense as he watches my movements like a hawk. "Sure." He seems pleased by my answer, and I quickly excuse myself to change out of my work uniform and into something more appropriate for our picnic endeavor.

I settle on black yoga pants and an oversized sweater. This isn't a date, and maybe the less time I spend on my appearance, the easier it will be for me not to treat it as such.

"Where are we having this picnic?" I ask as Miles holds the front door open for me. The woven basket rocks in his hand as we walk to the elevators, and I'm tempted to ask what he's brought along for us to eat.

"Washington Square Park."

The last time I'd been in that park was back in August. Of course, I pass by it on my way to and from class, but I'd missed just sitting on the benches and people-watching. It's the best way to gain inspiration for future shoots.

He takes my silence as confirmation that the location is alright, and we walk side by side down the block. There aren't many people out, with it being four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. We still have two hours before rush hour starts, and the city begins to swarm with more people.

Entering the park, we immediately find a bench that isn't taken over by random college students doing homework or elderly ladies feeding the pigeons. I don't know why I'm suddenly highly nervous while sitting next to Miles. It isn't a date. Even if a tiny part of me won't oppose him saying it is.

"I brought sandwiches and strawberries," Miles announces, lifting the basket onto his lap and opening the lid. True to his word, two sandwiches are sitting in little plastic bags, and a huge container of strawberries and two water bottles is situated next to them. I can't help the smile that pulls on my lips as I accept one of the sandwiches.

"Did you make these?" I ask, pulling back the bread to see what kind of sandwich it is.

To my surprise, Miles blushes. "Uh—Monica did. It's a chicken salad sandwich."

I don't know if it's the fact that Miles is slightly embarrassed that he didn't make the food or the fact that he had to have divulged his plans for this picnic with Monica, but a warm feeling spreads throughout my chest. Miles is too adorable.