“You took the Pink Posse photos?” Avery’s mouth dropped open in awe, her eyes wide. “That hashtag trended for an entire summer.”
“I know. I still tease Symona for not crediting the photographer,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “So she kinda owes me.”
“Is that how you ended up dating her?” Avery asked, rubbing Casper’s ear.
“Oh, we never dated,” he said, happy to clear up the misconception. “She’d gone through a nasty breakup, and didn’t want to show up solo to the Met Gala. I agreed to be her last-minute plus one.”
“So you went as friends.” Avery’s mouth opened in surprise. He bit back the urge to kiss her and searched the horizon for the space station. Anything to keep him from making a move he’d regret.
“Yes, friends. I was a fish out of water. Her stylist picked out my clothes and gave me lessons on walking the carpet and posing for photos. Talk about surreal. Everyone hugs everyone, regardless of whether they know them.” He laughed at how naïve he’d been back then. “The Met Gala red carpet is super stressful. As a former college athlete, I can confirm I have never sweated like I did that night.”
“Symona’s best friend is Hazel Matheson,” Avery said. “She used to play small bars in Nashville. I’m a HazMat; that’s what they call her fans. I feel like we went to college together.”
“I remember that. You, with your sundresses and cowboy boots.” He grew hard at the memory of her straddling him in the Mail Jeep a decade ago. He’d lowered those shoulder straps and kissed her shiny shoulders. It was the only time he’d ever had car sex. He wondered if she’d done itthat way with anyone else.
“I tried to get tickets for her tour this summer,” Avery said, scanning the horizon. “But they sold out in seconds flat.”
“I’ll text her and get us tickets.”
Avery’s shoulders fell, and Miles realized the two of them going to a concert sounded like a date. He’d gone too far.
She reached out on her other side and ran her hand down Casper’s back.
“Miles,” she said, a croak in her voice. “I’m glad everything worked out for you. What an amazing life you have.”
Miles wanted to tell her everything wasn’t as rose-colored as it seemed. How every summer, he’d hoped she’d come back to Linden Lake. That he found himself searching for her in every crowd. But whenever he revealed too much, she found an excuse to escape. He was pushing that boundary now and needed to back off.
“I guess,” he sighed. “But celebrities are just people with a heightened sense of image. It’s hard to tell who some of them really are and whether you have anything in common. I met Hayes at the Met Gala. His struggles grounded him, and I respect that when he’s not on set, he’s a New Yorker on the subway, just like everyone else. He calls me his normal friend, but sometimes I’m more like a third wheel.”
“Have you had a girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” He let out a laugh, leaned over, and lightly bumped her with his shoulder. “You.”
“No, after us,” she said. “Has anyone been more than a date?”
It was only natural for her to be curious. He should admit the truth. After all, she had shared so much the last time they sat here. He drummed his fingers on the dock behind him and resolved to give her the real him, not the glossy image.
“No,” he said, allowing the weight of it to sit there for a moment.
“But you meet so many beautiful people.”
“Trust me,” he said. “It’s like the first night onTheBachelor. Anyone who asks to steal you for a second has an ulterior motive. The people who seem perfect are the least put together.”
This could easily apply to him. On paper and in public, he came across as confident, always sure of his next venture. The one viral photo that captured the real him was the one of him reading on the subway. The lost boy in a man’s body, reading so no one discovered the inner Miles, who wanted things he couldn’t have. Things far more elusive than red-soled shoes and nice cars.
“I know what you mean,” Avery said, patting his knee. At some point, she must have stopped petting Casper and moved closer. “I thought I knew Trent, but he hid a lot from me. Talk about ulterior motives. I think I always knew the truth, and maybe part of me believed I could fix him. I just had to be the perfect girlfriend, fiancée, wife. A recipe for happiness. Except it meant he never got the real me either.”
“I feel that,” he said. “I never pursue beyond the first date because I have the sense we’re both hiding ourselves.”
Subsequent dates meant opening himself up, and he hadn’t met someone worth doing that for since Avery. But maybe that wasn’t true. He’d always thought she understood him from the moment they met, but he’d kept so much hidden from her back then. Stuffed his pain into a box after his mother’s death. He thought he’d put enough nails in the lid to hold it down. The pressure had built until an emotional cyclone blew it open. Avery couldn’t have known everything swirling inside him. Not without him sharing it.
Maybe he’d been too self-centered to consider her side of their story. The way he’d ended it lacked empathy. She must’ve felt blindsided. All this time, while he’d been dreaming of a future for them, she’d awoken to the certainty it was over. He’d made her think that.
“Mimi was onto something,” she said. “Kis-mates, or even simple kindred spirits, are rare. Understanding each other on a visceral level … that’s nearly impossible. I’m not sure how you know it when you see it.”
Miles wanted to say he believed Avery was his kis-mate, but a lump blocked his throat. What Avery described sounded wonderful and frightening. Two warring emotions he’d become acquainted with that summer.
Avery crisscrossed her legs, sat up straight, and pulled the pencil out of her topknot. All that gorgeous hair cascaded past her shoulders. His fingers prickled with an urge to run his fingers through it, pull her in, and ask for another chance.
