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 having to tackle the mounds of homework that are 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 simply rest my feet.

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

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 was thinking 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 so that I can 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 to not 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 of the location being alright, and we walk side by side down the block. There aren't too many people out, with it being four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. We still have maybe 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 extremely nervous whilst sitting next to Miles. It isn't a date. Even if a teeny tiny part of me won't be opposed to 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 as well as two water bottles are 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 was.

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.

"Well, I still appreciate it." I bite into the sourdough bread, pleased to find that it tastes just as good as it looks. We eat in silence for a moment, simply observing the people walking back and forth in front of us.

"How have you been?" Miles asks suddenly. "I haven't seen you since Lucky Strike." That had been almost a week and a half ago and I involuntarily wince at what had happened at the bar. Sebastian hasn't tried contacting me outside of that bizarre show of trapping me in the bathroom, and for that I'm glad. I'd told Talia and Veronica what had happened the next morning and to say they were furious was an understatement. Veronica was practically halfway out of the door, claiming she had every right to murder him.

"I'm doing okay," I answer. Frankly, taking away the whole Sebastian encounter, I'm drowning in school work. Becoming quite busy with midterms and the onslaught of papers that I need to write. I don't even have time to work on my internship application right now.

Miles hums, shooing away a pigeon that flies too close to us. "I–uh . . ." I stare at him, seeing a flicker of emotions pass over his face. I can tell that he wants to say something, though, I'm not quite sure what, especially with the nervous stutter he has going on.

I raise a brow at him and he chuckles, running a hand through his mess of hair. "Sorry."

"No biggie," I say easily. "Take your time." I mean the last part to come out in a teasing manner, something to help Miles not feel so uncomfortable with whatever he needs to say. And it works. He shoots me a playful glare, his lips twitching.

"That dude . . . at Lucky Strike . . ." I'm not too surprised that he's brought Sebastian up. I'm just surprised that it has taken him this long to do it.

"Ah," I say slowly, understanding flooding my tone. Miles looks sheepish, shaking his head.

"You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to," he says quickly. "I just—after you saw him, you seemed to be sad for the rest of that night." Seeing Miles so flustered isn't a sight I'm used to. He is always so calm, cool, and collected. He oozes charisma, seeing as that is his whole brand as a rugged musician.

"He's my ex and the reason I was in the bar getting drunk when we first met."

"I figured he was the ex," Miles says honestly. "What happened? If you don't mind me asking?"

I wipe the corner of my mouth with a stray napkin, making sure I don't have any food residue anywhere. "No, it's fine. Um, he broke up with me because I just wasn't fitting the description of being his girlfriend anymore." Miles looks horrified, his eyes widening. I'm being rather nonchalant about it, but even saying those words aloud is about as painful as the tiny knives that are stabbing at my heart. After I came home from Lucky Strike, I'd sobbed myself to sleep, my pillow soaked with the onslaught of tears. It isn't fair that I'm struggling with trying to piece together the fragments that Sebastian had broken, while he seems to be in perfect condition, probably schmoozing it up with Helena.

I know it will take some time. Time to heal. I know that there will be a day when thinking of Sebastian won't hurt so much. And yeah, that time isn't right now, but there is a part of me that is healing. Slowly.

I know half the credit is my own doing. Purging my room of all memorabilia relating to Sebastian. Blocking him on every social media platform that I have him on. Not letting myself dwell on our relationship. But I would be an absolute fool to not admit that the other half of the credit belonged to Miles. He'd swooped in, in all of his glory, and seemed to rescue the parts of my heart that are still intact, whether he knows it or not. He makes me laugh, harder than I've ever laughed with anyone before. He cares about me, cares about my family. He cares about anyone and everyone.

I don't believe in fate. But I believe that meeting Miles in the bar that night wasn't a mistake. And I know that he's secured a place in my life, and my heart.

"What a dick," Miles grunts, suddenly pulling me from my tirade of thoughts. "If I'd known that I would've gladly let my fist meet his face."

I laugh. "I'm sure he would've retaliated with a strong lawsuit."

"So that's why you were downing those tequila shots like water when we met, huh?"

I nod, finding myself becoming a bit embarrassed. "Nursing a good ole fashion broken heart."

"I'm sorry, Evie," Miles says, sincerity coloring his tone.

I shrug, hugging my arms to my chest. "I guess I was a little naive to think that he would choose me over his wealth." Laughing dryly, I shake my head. "But then again, why would I ever think that in the first place."

Miles' gaze softens. "Because a real man wouldn't have thrown you away without putting up a good fight."

My heart thunders in my chest and I blush, finding it hard to meet Miles' emerald eyes as I scan the park.

"Are you staying in the city for Thanksgiving?" I ask, desperately looking for a change of topic. Thankfully, Miles entertains the fact, nodding his head.

"I'm from Queens so I don't have to travel far," he answers. "Are you going back to Jersey?"

I nod. "Most likely where I'll spend it with Veronica, my mom, and my brother eating Chinese food and watching shitty Christmas movies." It sounds so depressing once my Thanksgiving plans leave my mouth, but at this point, spending it that way has become a tradition. My dad was the cook between him and my mom, and he used to cook an excessive amount of food for the holidays. But once he started getting sick, it took a lot out of him to even make a grilled cheese. So we'd started the Chinese dinner traditions instead. We haven't talked about what the holidays will look like now that he's gone, but I know sticking to the Chinese dinner tradition will be a way for us to still feel closer to him.

This was our first Thanksgiving without him, and it hurt to know that he won't be sitting on the opposite side of the couch, tucked in with my mom as we all eat our Chinese food dinner, laughing and just being a family.

"Veronica too?" Miles asks.

"Yeah, she sort of has bad blood between her parents after she came out as bi," I explain. Veronica had been in the closet for all of high school, only coming out to her parents when she'd moved to New York. They're extremely conservative, and Veronica had been terrified of them kicking her out, so she'd waited until she was living on her own to tell them.

Her parents had exploded once they knew of Veronica's sexuality, saying they won't let her back into their house until she 'repents her sins to the Lord.'

Veronica immediately blocked their numbers and hasn't spoken to them in almost four years.

"Really?" he asks in astonishment. "I always forget that there are people in this world who are just blatantly homophobic."

I nod, my face screwed up in slight disgust. I used to be extremely close to Veronica's mom. She'd been there for my mom while my dad was fighting cancer, even bringing over home-cooked meals for us. It had made me extremely angry when Veronica told me that her mother wasn't accepting of the fact that she liked girls just as much as she liked boys.

"If you ever find yourself needing a change of scenery, you could always join me for Thanksgiving," Miles says after a quick moment of silence. It's extremely casual, the way he slides the invitation out. As if he regularly invites girls to spend a holiday with him and his family. I try to compose myself, but inside I'm bursting at the seams.

"Really?"

He shoots me a smile. "Of course. My mom always makes too much food that ends up sitting in the fridge for too many weeks after. I think it would put her at ease to know other mouths besides us would be eating her food. You can bring your mom, your brother, and Veronica, of course."

"You're inviting me to spend Thanksgiving with you and your family?" I echo, trying to not sound too incredulous. Miles nods, his lips quirking into a smirk.

I can think of a million and one reasons why I should politely decline. Why I shouldn't try and breach the lines of friendship that I have with Miles. But despite all of the warning bells sounding in my head, I do the complete opposite. I smile, letting my answer flow easily from my lips.

"Sure."