apartment door, I find it rather unsettling that I haven't been back to his apartment since the night we'd first met. It feels weird to think of how far we've come in only a month, but then again, I'm not complaining.

The door swings open to reveal Monica in a long button-down shirt, her small frame practically drowning in the material. She has a piece of toast in her mouth, and at the sight of me, immediately smiles.

"Hey, Evie." She steps aside so I can come in. The apartment looks about the same, except there are blankets and pillows on the living room floor, and the aroma of bacon is prominent in the air.

"Hey, I'm just here to–"

"Meet up with Miles, yeah he told me." She's smirking mischievously at me, almost like she knows some big secret that no one else is aware of. "How was the picnic?" Judging by her knowledge of what is happening with Miles and me today, I know that she already has intel on our picnic outing, but by her questioning stare, I assume she wants to hear my side.

I shrug nonchalantly, plopping down on one of the bar stools. "It was nice."

She quirks a brow, chewing slowly on her piece of toast. "Just nice?"

I grow a tad bit uncomfortable by the prodding looks Monica is shooting me. Miles' closed door is only a couple of feet away from me, and I know that if I decide to blab away without a care in that world, Miles will most likely hear every word. Especially since I can hear him rattling away behind the door without a problem.

"I mean, it was amazing and . . ." I trail off as Monica's coy smirk grows into an amused smile.

"You know, Miles likes you."

"I like him too."

She shakes her head, leaning against the countertop. "No, I mean he–" His door suddenly flies open causing Monica and I to jump in surprise as she clamps her mouth shut. He's eyeing her with a warning look as if he knows exactly what those next words coming out of her mouth are going to be.

"You ready?" he asks me, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate much to Monica's annoyance. I nod, hiking my tote higher on my shoulder as I slide off of the stool.

"Have fun on your date!" Monica calls out, laughing to herself when Miles glares at her over his shoulder.

"Sorry about her, I should've sent you a warning text that she was here," he says, locking the door behind him as we walk towards the stairs.

"It's fine, she's really sweet anyway."

He raises a brow. "She's the devil in sheep's clothing."

"She's your best friend's fiancée!" I say indignantly and Miles simply shrugs.

"She also acts like an annoying sister, which I don't need another one of," he grumbles the last part to himself, clearly frustrated which to me, makes him look quite adorable.

"What did she say to you?"

I swipe my MetroCard, walking through the turnstile and stalling an answer to his question. I wonder if he'd heard anything Monica had said. It seems like it from the way he'd barged out of his room, glaring intently at her.

"She just asked how our picnic outing was," I answer vaguely. Miles narrows his eyes at me. It isn't a lie, Monica had asked me that. I'm just choosing to omit the other parts of the conversation. Thankfully, the train whizzes by, cutting off any response Miles might've had.

We board the train, and I'm glad to see that it isn't too crowded, Miles and I settle into two seats next to the window. I'm twisting around the rings on my finger, absently looking out at the darkness from the tunnel before Miles speaks up again.

"You're still planning on spending Thanksgiving with me, right?"

I look at him, his emerald eyes searching my face as if the answer is somehow written on my forehead instead of in my brain. When I nod, his face relaxes into a smile.

"My mom is just excited about having a meal that she doesn't have to order," I say lightly. When I'd brought up the change of plans to her, she'd been ecstatic, though she didn't hold back on commenting on mine and Miles' relationship.

"So are you two dating?" she'd asked coyly, and after much convincing, which I don't even think she'd believed, she promised not to embarrass me in front of him and his family.

"I'm excited to meet your mom," he says honestly. "And your brother, of course." My heart warms at his genuine eagerness to meet my family.

He's infatuated with you. Talia's words somehow creep back into my mind before I can push them away. I'm not used to having a man in my life as caring and responsive as Miles, and maybe that is playing a role in why I'm so adamant about keeping him in the friend zone.

"Is Veronica coming?"

I shake my head. "She said she's spending it with Olivia."

He hums. "Olivia? Are they dating?" When I shrug, not knowing the answer, Miles looks at me quizzically. "Are they friends?"

"It's slightly complicated," I answer. Miles nods thoughtfully not pushing me to elaborate and we lapse into another moment of silence. It's not awkward, which is one of the other things I enjoy about his company. We can just sit in silence without needing to fill the void with mindless chatter.

The silence causes my mind to wander to how tense the apartment had been when I'd left to meet Miles. Talia and Veronica had been having a rather forced conversation in the kitchen. The conflict in the air was thick as my friends sat across the kitchen table. Talia was practically begging Veronica to let her know what was going on, and Veronica just kept saying that it was nothing. When I'd managed to slip through the door, Talia was almost on the verge of tears, claiming she could tell Veronica was hiding something from her. The sight almost tore my heart in two.

"Are you okay? You look deep in thought?" Miles' low voice pulls me from my thoughts. I look over to see him staring at me, concern written all over his face.

I debate on whether or not I should tell him about Veronica. I know he won't tell anyone, and I also trust his opinion.

"It's about Veronica," I start, deciding I need to tell someone for my own peace of mind. He nods, leaning towards me with an impassive expression on his face. So I tell him. I go into detail on Veronica graduating early and moving to Paris. I tell him about the pact the three of us had made in high school, and how Talia has no idea that our group is about to change. I tell him how much the secret is burdening me, how I hate lying to my best friend. I tell him everything. When I finish, Miles is deep in thought, chewing on his bottom lip while I wait for him to say something.

"It's selfish of Veronica to put you in a situation like that," he finally says, shaking his head. I'm not expecting that response, and he can tell from my expression, causing him to continue. "This secret is eating you alive. And it sucks that the only reason you found out is because Veronica got a little too drunk." I cast my eyes downwards, knowing he was right.

"I'm not saying you need to step up and tell Talia what's going on, but Veronica is an adult, and sometimes life doesn't always work out the way you want it to," he adds in a softer tone. "It's inevitable that Talia will be upset. But trust me, she'll be even angrier that Veronica kept this big secret from her, and that you knew as well."

I ponder Miles' sentiment for the rest of the train ride to Brooklyn. And by the time we reached our stop, I'd already begun to draft up what I'm going to say to Veronica once I get back home. He's right. We can't keep lying to Talia, I can't keep lying to her.

When we enter the art studio, there are already people sitting in front of their easels, conversing lowly with one another. I immediately spot Janice sitting in the same seat she'd sat in the last time I'd been here and I instantly smile.

She spots me just as quickly, waving her hand in the air and beckoning me over. Miles chuckles, when I turn back to look at him.

"Go on, ditch me for your new friend." I smack his shoulder lightly, making my way over to Janice without a second thought.

"You're glowing, my dear," Janice compliments, her lips quirking up at my flustered expression. "Does it have anything to do with that handsome man?" I follow her gaze, even though I already know who she is referring to. Miles is standing in the front of the class, his face screwed up in concentration as he assembles his station whilst trying to listen to whatever the elderly men in the front row are shouting at him. Every so often he'll look up, laughing heartily at something they've said.

Janice looks smug when I draw my eyes away from Miles, and I resist the urge to swat her away from me. I can practically feel her amusement considering the last time she saw me, I was adamant about us being just friends. Though, I don't think I'll ever stop being adamant about that.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say absently, fixing my canvas on the board and opening up the tiny bottles of paint, beginning to squirt them on my palette.

Janice hums, obviously finding my reluctance to answer her question rather funny.

"You know," she says after a moment of silence has passed between us. "I remember when Miles first started teaching this class." My ears perk up instantly, completely abandoning the awful shading I'm doing on some mountains. "He was an absolute horror to be around. Though, I'm sure it's because this class was only a pit stop on his community service requirement."

"Community service?" I echo in confusion. I have never inquired about why he'd started teaching this class, assuming it's because he loves to make art, and found that directing a class on what to paint is pretty therapeutic.

She shoots me a long look and I see the turmoil behind her hazel eyes. "Let's just say Miles wasn't always as good as he is now." I want to ask more questions. I want to know what Janice means by that and why she knows so much about a man who is only supposed to be in communication with her through these community classes. But judging by the stiff placement of Janice's shoulders and the tight line of her lips, I know she is done talking about this topic.

"What I was trying to say was, I don't think I've ever seen Miles as happy as he's been these last few sessions. It's like he's an entirely new person." She smiles cheekily at me and I know her underlining message is that he's transformed into this new person because of me.

I blush, going back to my horrendous painting but not before sneaking a glance to look at Miles who is helping an elderly woman a few stools away from me. His bottom lip is being pulled in by his teeth as he listens intently to whatever the woman is saying, nodding every once in a while as he points to things on her canvas. As if sensing my eyes, he looks up and straight in my direction. Instead of looking away, embarrassed at having been caught, I manage a small smile to which Miles discreetly winks at me before looking back down at the woman.

From the way my heart stutters in my chest, I realize that Janice is only seeing one side.

Miles has seemingly also transformed me into someone else as well. Someone who I haven't seen or been for a long, long time.

• • •

Running around my apartment, I'm teetering toward being extremely late for my shift at The Coffee Haus. I can't, for the life of me, locate my damn name tag, knowing that when I'd come home from my last shift, I'd thrown it on my dresser. But as I throw things around, turning my room upside down, I can't locate it.

"There you are," I huff, finding the silver nameplate tossed haphazardly on a mountain of laundry that I need to fold and put away.

A soft knock on my bedroom door jerks my attention up, as I see Veronica leaning against the frame, looking at me uneasily. I stand to my full height, assessing her figure. I haven't spoken to her since that night when Talia and I had been in my room watching Love Island. Honestly, I've been avoiding her, which doesn't prove to be too hard since she's rarely ever home and if we are home at the same time, I'm sequestered in my room.

"Hey, this came for you." She holds out a crisp, white envelope that has my name printed elegantly on the back. Taking it from her, I immediately rip the paper, pulling out a small card.

It's an invitation to Helena Blake's birthday party.

Sebastian's warning goes off in my head. The defiant look in his eyes as he practically scolded me about not showing up at her party.

"What is it?" Veronica asks curiously.

"An invite to Helena's party." I throw the invitation onto my bed. I'm already running late as it is, I will deal with that when I come home later and hopefully have enough time to process if I'm either going to listen and stay away or show my face.

"Are you going?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

We stand in uncomfortable silence as I continue to shuffle around my room, gathering things and shoving them into my tote bag. Veronica clears her throat, looking extremely pained.

"I'm planning to tell Talia about Paris." My movements freeze as I stare at her. She's biting on her lip, her eyes bouncing around my room.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow at her. "Really?"

She nods sullenly. "It's not fair for me to ask you to keep such a big secret from her. I shouldn't be as scared as I am to tell Talia the truth. I owe it to her, especially when I can see how it's already ruining our friendship by not telling her." Her shoulders sag as she looks crestfallen.

I take two strides towards her, putting my hands on her shoulder in reassurance. "I'm here for you, okay? If you want, I can be there while you tell her."

Veronica immediately shakes her head, giving me a grateful smile. "I think I should do it alone." I nod, knowing exactly why she wants to, and I completely respect her decision. I'm just glad I will no longer have to blatantly lie to Talia whenever she asks about Veronica.

"I'm late to work, but we can talk some more when I come back?" Veronica smiles reassuringly, squeezing my hand and stepping aside so I can quickly exit my room.

The Coffee Haus isn't too busy for a change when I walk through the door, the chime above ringing to announce my arrival. My manager, Sabrina, grins at me as I walk up to the counter. Despite being my boss, Sabrina has quickly become one of my great friends. She's only a year older than me but has the work ethic of someone light years ahead. She's petite and extremely polite unless you test her patience. I have begun to lose track of how many times Sabrina will snap at overly rude customers, her dark eyes blazing with fury. She's someone whose harsh glares will have you cowering immediately, and I don't ever even be on the receiving end of them.

"Hey, Evie," she greets, handing me my apron. I take it with a smile, tying it around my front. "We're not too busy, so it's only going to be me and you on shift today." That's completely fine with me. I'm pretty sure besides Sabrina and me, all of the other workers are still in high school, meaning they slacked off tremendously and left so much for me or Sabrina to handle when it came to closing.

True to her word, only a few customers come in, to which I hustle around, taking their orders and chatting with them. My usual eight-hour shift that usually drags on goes by a bit faster, and before I know it I'm ten minutes away from clocking out, wiping down the counters when the bell above the door chimes.

I look up, a polite smile on my lips only to see Miles. His hands are stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans, a beanie covering his curly hair. He looks unbelievable, as usual.

"How'd you know where I worked?" I ask, watching as Miles sinks onto one of the stools, his elbows resting on the hardwood counter.

"Talia," he answers simply. Of course, she told him, with her meddling tendencies.

From the corner of my eye, I see Sabrina pause her task of refilling the napkin dispensers, shooting me quizzical looks as her eyes dart between Miles and me.

"What can I get you?" I inquire, ignoring her and focusing back on Miles.

"Just a coffee. Black." I wrinkle my nose. I never understand people who drink coffee without anything to sweeten it up. My dad used to drink his coffee the same way, and it bugged me to no end. Though, since becoming a barista, I've grown to love customers who order black coffees, since there isn't much I have to do. It's a nice change from trying to perfect the long list of coffee orders from the occasional hipster white girls that will waltz in.

As I hand him his coffee, my hand quickly brushes over his own. I quickly turn away, hiding the sudden flame on my cheeks, but I'm also thinking about what Janice had said during the painting class. That had been almost three days ago but I still can't shake her words from my brain.

Let's just say Miles wasn't always as good as he is now.

What does that mean? And if it has anything to do with Miles' past, I'm intrigued. The only things he's shared with me are that he grew up in Queens, living with his parents and younger sister until he graduated high school and started going to Columbia. He said his childhood had been normal, though I have no idea what normal means for Miles. He'd started playing music when he was six and has loved it ever since.

At the time, that information had been enough for me, but now I'm wondering about the skeletons in his closet.

"Evie? Am I boring you?" I snap from my thoughts to see Miles smirking at me. I flush, realizing I've completely zoned out from whatever he's saying.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

He chuckles, finding my flustered state something akin to amusement. "I was saying that I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving." A dark look passes over his face and before I can decipher what it meant, it's gone just as quickly. "The holidays are usually rough for my family, but I think with you there, it won't have to be."

Any words that I want to say seem to get stuck in my throat. Miles Lively sure has a way with words. I settle on a shy smile instead, feeling a sense of warmth spread throughout my body.

"Anyway, did you ever get an email back from Jermaine Bowers' mother?" I nod numbly. She'd responded to my email rather quickly, agreeing to meet with me.

"We scheduled for me to come over to her house on the twentieth of December." My voice is shaky as I continue wiping down the counter space around Miles, though I can see the frown on his face, most likely noticing my apprehension. "I'm just nervous. What do I say to a woman who has lost her son? Especially that way."

He reaches over, putting his hand over mine and halting my actions. His emerald eyes are sincere, as they search my face. "I'm sure she wouldn't have agreed to talk with you if she didn't think she'd be able to handle talking about Jermaine. I believe that you can find the right words."

I smile gratefully at him, letting his advice wash over me. I can do this. If not for me, then for Jermaine and the legacy he has left behind.

"I hate to cut this conversation short, but I have to go back home and finish writing this song." He stands up from the stool, adjusting his jacket. "I'm unfortunately on a deadline." He salutes me with the coffee cup, a teasing smirk on his lips. "I'll see you later, Eve." And with that, he's sauntering out of the cafe, in the same manner, he'd sauntered in with.

"Who the hell was that?" Sabrina demands once he's gone, her eyes blazing as she stares at the spot Miles had been occupying.