mess, an absolute mess.

My mascara is clumped around my eyes, and I keep having to sniff away the mucus running from my nose, but as much as I hate the fact that I'm crying the hardest I've probably ever cried over a relationship, I know that it's for the best.

Currently sitting on my bedroom floor, I've taken a break from looking through a plethora of internship applications to finally clear out and get rid of a bunch of the things I still have floating around my room that remind me of Sebastian. I keep a box stored under my bed of every significant memory that we've shared throughout our relationship. From the receipt to the ice cream shop we went to on our first date, to a bunch of letters Sebastian used to write for me, they are all just sitting there, reminding me of a time when I had been happy with him.

I didn't think it would be this hard. But it only seems to remind me of everything that I've lost. Rubbing my eyes, I let out a shaky breath, pushing the box away with my foot.

"Fuck this," I mumble, scrambling to my feet in a rush. If I'm going to get through the rest of tonight, I need some wine. Not even bothering to check myself in the mirror, I throw open my bedroom door, stomping out into the kitchen area, only to be stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Talia and Miles conversing at the kitchen table. I forgot that they were going to be working on their interview project here, maybe if I had, I could've at least tried to look a lot more presentable.

It's been a week since our bar outing at Lucky Strike. Looking back, it was probably the last good night I'd had. We'd all gotten significantly drunk, sharing embarrassing stories and all around laughing our asses off. Wesley and Nick were great company, and by the end of the night, we'd all promised that this wouldn't be the last night out for all of us.

Miles had even pulled me aside before I'd hopped into the Uber, asking for my phone as I'd watched him type out his number, saying that I should shoot him a text sometime.

Safe to say, I haven't shot him any sort of text.

"What happened to your face?" Talia demands. My cheeks were warm, walking swiftly around into the kitchen. I can feel both of their eyes on me as I rummage around in the fridge for the bottle of Barefoot Pink Moscato we have. "Evie?"

I sigh, pulling the wine out and turning around to see Talia staring at me, concern swirling around in her eyes. "I'm fine, Tal."

"You look like you've been crying," she informs me before turning to look at Miles. "Doesn't she?"

His lips thin out as he looks between Talia and me. He can tell that all I want to do is escape back to my room with this bottle and chug it. At least that's what I think when he shakes his head. "I don't see it." I send him a grateful look, causing him to quirk his lips at me in return.

Talia huffs, pointing at the Moscato. "Save some of that for me, please."

I wink at her, walking back out of the kitchen and almost making it back to my room until I hear Miles start to speak. "I'll be back, I just need to go to the bathroom." I can hear Talia hum out a response, but before I can sequester myself back in my room, Miles' hand is blocking the door. I open it wider, staring at him in confusion.

"Bathroom is down the hall," I say, sticking my head out and pointing at the slightly ajar door. Thankfully, Talia had stuck her headphones in, her head bopping along to whatever she was listening to, and completely oblivious to Miles and me.

His eyes scan my face slowly, the frown deepening. "You never texted or called."

I set the bottle down, crossing my arms over my chest as Miles steps further into my room. His eyes don't leave my face, and for that I'm grateful, knowing that if he takes the time to inspect his surroundings, his gaze will land on the box of memorabilia about Sebastian and me that is spilled out all over my floor.

"I'm sorry. I've been busy–"

'And that's a bullshit excuse," he interrupts. My eyes widen in shock, but he doesn't seem to care, stepping closer to me. "Here I thought we'd hit it off that night at the bar and the previous night when I let you sleep in my bed. Was I wrong or something?"

My expression hardens a little. "I don't need a relationship right now."

Miles laughs, the sound bouncing off of the walls. "I'm not asking for your hand in marriage, Evie. Sometimes dudes just wanna be friends."

I narrow my eyes. I don't think I've ever heard a man say he wanted to be just friends and mean it. Lines always become blurred. Hell, that's what happened between Sebastian and me. We started as friends, simply hanging out and trying to set platonic boundaries, and then suddenly those boundaries were crossed.

Now, look where we are.

As if being able to read my mind, Miles scoffs. "You don't believe me," he mutters to himself. "Listen, I'm hosting a painting class in Brooklyn tomorrow, if you'd like to come?"

"A painting class?" I echo. Looking at Miles, he fits the rugged singer look, but I did not expect him to be a painter as well.

He nods. "I do it occasionally, and I'd say it's pretty fun." He smirks as if there is something exceptional about teaching a painting class.

It seems rather platonic. We won't be alone, and it doesn't require me to keep up a conversation with him, considering he'll be attending to other people as well. Plus, it beats sitting in my room all day and trying not to cry as I start the task of decluttering my laptop and phone of all pictures and videos of Sebastian.

Without thinking about it anymore, I relent. "Sure, why not."

"Cool, it starts at one." He starts walking backward, his hand reaching out for the doorknob. Shooting me a boyish smirk, he pauses on his way out. "Might wanna text me for the address, by the way." And with that he disappears from my room, gently closing the door behind him and leaving me with lingering doubts about if I should have agreed to it at all.

• • •

"Where are you going looking all cute?" Talia asks from her position on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between her legs.

"Miles invited me to his painting class," I answer, smoothing out any lingering wrinkles in my dress. I'd practically destroyed my closet trying to find something acceptable to wear. I don't want to just show up in sweats and a hoodie, even though it's a rather tempting idea. After almost an hour of panicking, I decided on a casual summer dress, adding a turtleneck and a long coat so I wouldn't get cold on the train.

"Like a date?" Veronica inquires, pausing the episode of Love Island that they're watching. It's the beginning of season six, and I've been dying to see if it's as good as all of the drama that happened in season five. I make a mental note to start it when I get home so I don't have to listen to them spoil anything.

"No, it's not a date," I roll my eyes. "It's just two friends hanging out."

Veronica gives me a knowing look, but thankfully, doesn't push the topic further. "If you say so."

"So what kind of painting class is it?" Talia asks lowly. "Is it like a nude thing?" She gasps, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. "Is Miles going to be posing nude?"

I hold up my hands, disgusted by Talia's trail of thought. "Alright, I'm leaving." Both girls start laughing at my reaction, Veronica reaching over and chucking a piece of popcorn in my direction.

"If he's naked, make sure to snap some pics," Veronica calls out after me. "It would be a crime if you–" I slam the door closed, cutting off the end of her sentence.

The wind is picking up significantly, the clouds in the sky promising some form of precipitation later on as I step outside, and I mentally curse myself for not bringing an umbrella. But, I'm not about to go back into that apartment for one, not if Veronica and Talia are going to continue their raunchy comments. I can still feel the blush on my cheeks as I walk to the subway. If Miles is teaching a nude painting class—which I will not put past him to do—I don't think I will be able to sit there without passing out.

The studio is in Park Slope, a thirty-five-minute ride from The Village. I decide to be somewhat productive, spending the entire journey looking at different internship applications on my phone. I want to work somewhere that will give me a bit of flexibility with my photography and that might offer me a job after I graduate. If I can somehow secure somewhere to work once I'm out of college, it will make paying back all of the student loans that I've taken out for undergrad a whole lot easier.

When I finally arrive at the art studio, I'm not quite expecting the sight in front of me. When Miles had said he teaches a painting class, I expected the students to be people around our age, maybe a bit younger, but everyone sitting in front of their easels is elderly.

I spot Miles in the front of the class, setting up his station. I have to admit, he looks pretty good, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and jeans that aren't too tight or too baggy resting on his hips. He occasionally stops what he's doing to run his fingers through his curls, biting down on his bottom lip as he focuses on the task he's doing.

"Quite a looker, hmm?" I practically jump out of my skin at the sudden voice, turning to see an older woman standing next to me with her eyes on Miles as well. I chuckle, shaking my head.

"I think his head is already quite big," I comment. "Admitting that would only make it bigger."

She laughs, her face crinkling from her laugh lines. "Is this your first class?" I nod, and her smile grows. "I'm Janice, and you must come and sit with me." Her fingers curl around my wrist, not giving me a chance to object as she leads us over to a row of empty chairs and canvases. I'd been hoping to just sit in the corner and butcher whatever Miles wants us to paint, but I'm not opposed to sitting with Janice, she seems nice—a bit eccentric—but nice.

"Ladies, how are you two doing?" I look up to see Miles hovering over us, a dimpled grin on his lips. Janice places her coat on the back of her chair, giving Miles a once-over.

"Just fantastic now that you're here." I almost choke at her blunt, yet subtle, flirtatious tone. Miles doesn't seem to mind, making me think this is a regular occurrence between him and Janice. Instead, he laughs at her comment, the melodic sound filling the air around us. He touches Janice's arm softly, before turning to look at me.

"You made it."

"I guess teacher Miles was more intriguing than I let on." He shakes his head, moving his finger between Janice and me.

"You two sitting together might end up getting me into trouble."

Janice smirks, winking at me. "You bet."

"Alright, we're going to start!" Miles announces, walking back towards the front as all of the elderly people begin shuffling to their seats. I'm quite nervous. Painting isn't my thing or really anything that has to do with drawing and art. I'm a shit artist if it doesn't involve photography. Even drawing stick figures is hard for me. As if sensing my uneasiness, Janice shoots me a warm smile.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Miles is one hell of a patient teacher." I blow out a sigh, picking up a brush and beginning to paint the background yellow as he's instructing.

"How do you know him?" Janice asks after a moment of silence. When I look at her in confusion, she gestures toward Miles.

I laugh, flicking some paint off of my brush. "It's a long story, but I guess he kinda saved me from doing something stupid." Thinking back to my wanting to roam around the city during the wee hours of the morning, drunk off my ass. Something I can remember clearly from that night was just how adamant Miles had been about making sure I was going to be okay.

"So you guys are dating?" she prods, and I immediately shake my head.

"We're just friends."

Janice frowns, dropping her brush and turning to look at me. I shrink a little under her intense stare. "Friends, huh?" When I nod slowly, she huffs under her breath. "Lemme tell you, Miles has never once brought someone like you here." When I open my mouth to respond, she shoots me another glare, causing me to clamp it shut again. "And, I've never seen him look at one person so many times like the way he's looked over at you since the class started." She discreetly nods her head in his direction, and when I look over, Miles is looking at me. When I catch him, he doesn't look away though, instead, he raises his eyebrows brow as if asking are you okay? to which I nod. He smiles at me before going back to observing an older man's canvas.

Janice gives me a knowing look, and I roll my eyes. "That doesn't mean anything. Besides, I just got out of a long relationship."

"So?"

My eyes practically bulge out of my head, taken aback by her casual tone. "So, I don't think I should be jumping into anything else."

Janice snorts. "Honey, when I met my husband, it started as rebound sex." I wrinkle my nose and she laughs loudly. "What I'm trying to say is that there is absolutely no time limit on love. It happens whenever even if you think you're not ready for it."

Before I can respond, I notice Miles walking toward us and I shut my mouth, not wanting him to hear what we were talking about. Janice seems to also get the hint, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she busies herself with shading a few trees on her canvas.

"How's it going?" He leans over my shoulder, his emerald eyes scanning over my painting. I hide my wince, knowing it isn't a good picture at all. My trees are lopsided, and the birds that I drew look nothing like birds. But Miles doesn't comment on any of that, instead, he gives me a toe-curling grin, his dimples deepening. "You're a natural."

I scoff. "You might as well bend down and start kissing my ass while you're at it."

He gives me a suggestive smirk. "Don't get my hopes up, princess." I blush, and Janice laughs.

I spend the remainder of the time chatting amicably with Janice. The rest of the class speeds on by, and before I know it, Miles is declaring it the end and people start packing up, bringing their finished canvases to the front for him to see as he gives out the promise of hanging them all around the studio.

"Remember what I said, young lady," Janice chastises, slipping her coat on. "Try not to think too much." She cocks her head to the side, studying my face. "I can tell you do that a lot."

"Nice meeting you," I laugh, and Janice waves goodbye, her figure disappearing through the doors and into a parked taxi out front.

"You know, I haven't seen Janice smile that much in a long time," Miles says, coming to stand next to me. I look at him, my eyebrows furrowing. "Her husband has been in the hospital with stage four brain cancer for a few months now." My face drops, looking at the spot that Janice had been sitting in. When I return my eyes to Miles', an unreadable expression crosses his features before it vanishes just as quickly, being replaced with a smile.

"Wanna go grab some dinner?"

I think about it, mulling over what Janice had said to me earlier. I am not an over-thinker. Or at least, I try not to be. Deciding I'm going to prove Janice wrong, I smile. "I would love to."