this scene is from after evie went to miles' painting class for the first time and afterward he invited her out to grab dinner with him. i was originally going to put this scene in that chapter but it didn't quite flow well so now here it is

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walking all the way downtown to grab food at a Mexican food truck. Miles had promised me the entire way here that their food is amazing, and probably some of the best food he's ever had from a truck in all of New York.

Unlike the temperature it had been when I'd left my apartment, there is less of a cold breeze and warmer sunlight shining through. I've abandoned the overcoat I'd previously been wearing, throwing it over my arm as Miles and I walk.

"So, how did you enjoy your first painting class?" he asks, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he looks down at me.

Smiling, I shrug. "It was . . . interesting. Janice is something else."

Miles chuckles, the sound making my heart flutter in my chest. "You seemed to handle her rather well though."

"She was sweet overall." Crossing the street, we fall into a lapse of comfortable silence. I rarely ever venture to this side of Brooklyn, and I have to say, it is truly a sight. It reminds me of the East Village, with the number of bars and restaurants that line the streets. So many people my age coming in and out of storefronts.

"How long have you been a painter?" I ask suddenly.

"I wouldn't necessarily call myself a painter," Miles admits sheepishly. "But my mom used to be an art teacher and I would always go with her to the art supply store, so I guess that's kind of where my interest started."

I hum in understanding. "And teaching that class?"

Miles lets out a dry laugh. "Unfortunately, that is a story for another day."

Deciding not to question him, I let go of my curiosity. We eventually reach the food truck, and I am surprised to see a little bit of a line. Maybe Miles hadn't been lying when he said this truck is the best in the city.

I decide on two chicken empanadas whilst Miles orders a shrimp burrito. After grabbing our food, we relocate to a nearby bench, Miles having to shoo away a few pigeons so we can sit down.

I pull the wrapper around my empanada down, feeling the warmth of dough against my fingertips. I can see Miles looking at me expectantly from the corner of my eye as I bring it up to my lips, taking a generous bite. Chewing slowly, I marvel at the amount of flavor that practically explodes in my mouth.

"Wow," is all I can manage to say, looking over at Miles who has a smug smirk on his lips as he takes a bite of his burrito.

"Told you."

I roll my eyes, taking another bite and making a mental note to tell Talia and Veronica about this food truck when I get home. It's a bit out of the way, but I won't mind making the trip if I get to enjoy this amazing empanada again.

"So, what about you?" Miles asks after a small moment of silence has passed.

Furrowing my brows, I fix him with a questioning look. "What about me?"

"When did you realize that you wanted to do photography?"

Wiping my mouth in case I have any lingering crumbs, I think about his question. "When I was around ten or so, I found an old film camera in a bunch of boxes in my parent's closet. It was broken though, and for a few years it was just in my room as decoration, and then for my sixteenth birthday, my dad got it fixed and I guess that's when I started taking pictures." Miles hums as I take another bite of my empanada, careful not to let any of the chicken spill onto my lap.

"Maybe I can see some of your photos on our next date," he says casually. My eyes widen, and when I glance over at him, Miles has a faint smirk on his lips, as if he's amused by my reaction.

"We're on a date?" I ask incredulously, trying to keep my hair out of my face as a gust of wind blows past me.

Miles shrugs, averting his gaze to watch the throngs of people that are walking past us. "Is it so bad that I said that?"

"Well, no . . . except that when you were in my apartment, you said you just wanted to be friends." At that, Miles chuckles, stealing a glance at my face. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and I can't help the slight twitch of my lips.

"Can you handle being just my friend?" he asks softly. For a split second, I can't stop my eyes from flickering down to his lips. I wonder, at that moment, how they'd feel pressed against mine. I wonder how it will feel to run my fingers through his curls, and pull him closer to me so that our bodies are pressed together. But just as fast as those thoughts enter my mind, I'm shaking them away. I feel my face grow hot as I realize Miles is looking at me with his intense stare, waiting for my answer.

Licking my lips, I manage to nod my head. "Of course, I can handle being your friend." The words taste bitter on my tongue, and I take another bite of my food to distract from how flustered I've become.

"Mhmm," he voices. I don't miss the hint of disbelief in his tone, and I shoot him a sideways glance to let him know it. "I guess we'll see about that, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess we will."