I cross my legs and focus on the screen, but the plot is background noise. What I’m hyperaware of is everything else—the way his arm shifts behind me, the faint brush of his sleeve against my hair, the scent of his cologne mixed with buttery popcorn and clean laundry.
He leans closer to whisper something about the movie, and his breath skims my ear. Goose bumps ripple across my skin.
He must notice because his voice drops. “Cold?”
I shake my head, barely managing words. “No. I’m good.”
“Good,” he says, and that one word lands somewhere deeper than it should.
A quiet scene fills the screen, all music and stolen glances between the leads. I don’t need the subtitles to know what they’re thinking—I can feel it in the silence, the same way I can feel Miles watching me instead of the movie.
“You’re not watching,” I whisper.
“Neither are you,” he murmurs back.
“We should’ve probably chosen a movie we hadn’t both seen several times already,” I say.
“Yeah, I blame you.”
I scoff. “What?”
He laughs. “You chose it. I mean, if there is someone to blame, it’s you.”
“No, you chose it,” I argue.
“Only because you were hovering over it for a minute straight. It was clear you wanted to watch it.”
“Was it now?” I cross my arms and turn to him. “As the self-proclaimed movie buff, I would’ve thought you’d have a better suggestion for our roomie movie night.”
“Seriously?” He chuckles. “You work in the movie industry, Miranda. You’ve got to have opinions.”
I shrug. “Eh, I really only care about Anna’s movies. I’m not an expert in any other ones.”
His knee presses into mine again, a small, warm point of contact that makes my body entirely too giddy.
Miles is… well, Miles. Attractive, funny, endlessly kind. That’s nothing new. Whatisnew is the quiet between us now—the kind that hums with awareness. Maybe it’s just the new living arrangement, the shift in boundaries, the way the couch feels smaller than it used to. Perhaps I’m imagining it entirely.
I stretch my arms above my head, feigning a yawn, and subtly shift a few inches away. I need space—not because I don’t want to be near him, but because I do. Too much.
It’s just going to take time, that’s all. We’ve been friends for months, but being roommates… It changes things. Living together means learning each other’s rhythms, figuring out the new normal. That’s all this is—adjustment.
When the movie fades into credits, neither of us moves. The light from the screen bathes his profile in gold, softening the sharp edges.
“So,” he says quietly. “Roomie movie night success?”
I nod, my voice thinner than I intend. “Yeah, I mean—it could’ve been worse. At least we liked the movie.”
“Good. The next one should be something new. It’ll make it more exciting.” His smile tilts, boyish and sincere. “I like this. Hanging out. You're here.”
The warmth in my chest catches me off guard.
“Yeah,” I manage, my throat tight. “Me too.”
“I told you it’d be great,” he says with a grin.
“Yep, you told me.”
I grab the remote as the next movie’s countdown starts on its own. “Nope,” I say quickly, clicking out of it. “We are not watching another sequel I’ve already seen five times.”
