invited you to spend Thanksgiving with him?" Talia practically shrieks. She's been repeating the same question for the tenth time since I'd told her how my picnic went with Miles.

We're currently sitting on my bed, sharing a bowl of popcorn as we watch an episode of Love Island. Or rather, it plays in the background as Talia interrogates me.

"Yes, Tal," I confirm again, finding myself becoming a smidge exasperated. Talia doesn't care though, as she lets out another squeal of happiness that has me wincing from the shrill sound.

"I thought it was so cute when he came over with that basket and had planned on having a picnic with you," she gushed. "But that's even cuter!"

"It's not cute," I say pointedly. "He probably only invited me because he felt sorry for my sad excuse of plans that I had before." Talia simply waves me away, giving me an I don't believe that for a second look.

She levels her stormy blue eyes with mine. "No guy would offer to have you spend the holidays with him while simultaneously having the opportunity to meet his family. He's infatuated with you, Eve."

He's infatuated with you. Her words rattle around in my brain for a solid minute while I chew on a piece of popcorn.

When I was with Sebastian, he'd refused to let me meet his parents. Claiming they were too overbearing and controlling, and that it would be hell on earth for me. I had to basically drag him to their house just so I could meet them, and even then he'd sat there as they tore me apart, not opening up his mouth once to defend me. But with Miles, the genuineness of his personality already makes me believe he will never let that happen, besides, with the way Miles is, I know his family isn't going to be anything like Sebastian's parents.

"Why won't you admit that you like like him?" Talia asks after a moment of silence. I roll my eyes at her choice of juvenile words.

"Because I don't like like him, Tal," I mock. It's her turn to roll her eyes, giving me a look of disbelief. Before I can respond, I hear the front door of the apartment slam shut, followed by the sound of footsteps.

"Ronnie?" Talia calls and a minute later my bedroom door creaks open to reveal the mess of brown waves that belong to Veronica. She opens the door a bit more, and that's when I notice her puffy eyes as if she's just finished bawling her eyes out.

"What happened?"

"Are you okay?"

Talia and I scramble off of my bed, making a beeline toward Veronica but she just waves us away, trying to put on a convincing smile.

"I'm fine, I just—I had the worst day at work," she settles, but I know that is a boldfaced lie. I go out on a limb and deduce that her sour mood has something to do with Olivia, but of course, she isn't saying anything about it. The only thing that can continually frustrate me about Veronica is how much she keeps things bottled inside. I know it's her way of coping, but I can always tell that it eats her up inside, and that makes my heartache, especially with all of the times Talia or I will reassure her that we're always here to listen.

"Do you want to join us?" Talia asks, probably coming to the same conclusion I have as her eyes fill with concern. "We're just watching Love Island." Veronica shakes her head, already backing out of my room.

"I think I'm just going to shower and do some homework," she says, trying to put on a convincing smile. My frown deepens when I see her lips wobble. "You guys have fun." Before Talia or I can protest, she's gone. A few moments later we hear the sound of her bedroom door shut softly. I blow out a breath, turning around and meeting the quizzical look Talia is giving me.

"What?"

"I'm worried about her," Talia says indignantly. "I know she's been extra sad about Olivia lately, but I know Ronnie. There's something else."

I try not to let my expression give anything away, but my heart is pounding in my chest. I'm not about to confide in Talia the secret that Veronica is hiding, mostly because it isn't my place. But goddamn, it's so hard to just sit here and play dumb, especially when I know this secret is going to crush Talia.

"She hasn't mentioned anything to me," I shrug, hoping my performance is enough to convince her.

Thankfully, she sighs, dropping back down onto my bed. "I just hope she knows that whatever is going on, she can talk to me about it. And if it is just the Olivia situation that is bothering her, I don't understand why she's keeping it all in."

I internally grimace, settling onto my bed beside Talia. I know with everything in me that if Veronica will simply confide in Talia about what is going on, things would be a whole lot easier for everyone involved. I know that Talia can feel the rift of a secret between her and Veronica, whether she knows what that secret is or not.

"Are you sure she hasn't mentioned anything to you?" Talia probes, her blue eyes practically piercing into my soul. I grow uncomfortable, shifting around on the bed for a minute.

"No, she hasn't."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, and I avert my eyes back to the television. I only hope that when Veronica finally does decide to confide in Talia, she will understand why we have both been lying to her.

But as I sit next to her, watching as she throws popcorn at my television whenever someone does something idiotic, I have a feeling it isn't going to be that simple.

• • •

Sitting at my desk, I stare at the blank email text screen, trying to figure out how I'm going to word exactly what I want to say. I've been sitting in front of my laptop for a good twenty minutes, wracking up the courage to begin typing. The nerves in the pit of my stomach are almost making me nauseous and I curse myself for acting like such a wimp, to begin with.

The sudden blare of my phone jolts me away from my predicament, looking down at the screen to see Miles' name. Smiling to myself, I accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful," his smooth voice sounds. I blush, fingering a loose curl that has escaped my bun. Since our picnic outing three days ago, Miles hasn't seemed to hold back on the charm. He calls me practically every day and we'll spend hours simply talking about nonsense. It's comforting though, he is comforting. It's just nice to be able to hear his voice. "How're you doing?"

It sounds like he's in the middle of a party from the noise happening in the background with loud chatter and an occasional scream. I furrow my eyebrows, pressing the phone tighter to my ear so that I can properly hear Miles. "I'm doing okay, where are you? It sounds so loud."

"Sorry. I'm at Mercury Lounge getting ready to play a gig."

I frown. "You're playing? Why didn't you tell me? I would've come to cheer you on."

I hear Miles chuckle, before the noise fades away completely, which leaves me to assume he's walked outside. "That's sweet of you, but it was so last minute. I didn't even think I could make it." I can hear the smirk on his lips as he adds, "so wipe that frown off your lips."

I roll my eyes, cradling the phone against my shoulder as I begin typing out the email. "So, to what do I owe this phone call?"

"Well, one, I wanted to hear you before I went on stage," the smile on my face seems to grow in size at that, "and two, I'm having another painting class tomorrow, figured you'd wanna tag along."

"Of course," I reply without hesitation.

"What's wrong? You sound stressed."

I blow out a frustrating sigh. "I'm trying to adequately get the ball rolling on part two of my internship application."

"Alright, what's part two then?"

"I want to interview Jermaine Bowers' mother." Miles is quiet for a long moment, it's such a long moment that I have to pull the phone away from my ear and check to see if he's still on the line, to begin with.

"Shit," is the first word to leave his mouth. "That's–wow, really?"

If I'm not so tense with anxiety, I would've laughed at his shocked tone. Instead, his surprise leaves me feeling like maybe it's a terrible idea. "Yeah, maybe I shouldn't. It was a stupid thing anyway–"

"Evie, I'm not saying it's a bad thing I'm just saying that's incredibly bold of you. I think you should do it," Miles interjects, his voice clearer and stronger than a minute ago.

I chuckle humorlessly. "Well, I don't think it's going to happen if I can't even form this email to ask her. Everything I type just ends up sounding so inconsiderate."

Miles is quiet for another moment, but I can tell that this silence is him simply pondering my situation. "You want to know one thing I like about you?" he asks in a calm tone.

I furrow my eyebrows, caught off guard by his change of pace. "Miles–"

"Your ability to empathize with people," he continues, effectively cutting me off. "You care more about everyone else's wellbeing before your own. Instead of writing that email as a reporter, you should write it as a human being. I know that Jermaine's mother isn't the only one who is hurting from his death, and I think she'll feel more comfortable knowing that."

Miles is right. I feel my chest inflate with warmth at his words of encouragement. He seems to always use the right words to somehow always make me feel better.

It's nice.

"Listen, I'm going on soon, so unfortunately this conversation has to be cut a bit short, but let me know what happens with the email, okay?" When I promise to update him, I can hear the slight relief in his voice. "Have a good night, pretty girl."

I smile, feeling practically giddy from him. "Have a good show, Miles."

I hang up shortly after that, cracking my knuckles before beginning to type out the email, Miles' words of reassurance at the forefront of my mind.