I stare at him. “That’s the same thing.”
“Well—technically, I bought their house. They travel a lot, so they just… stay here when they’re in town.”
“Slightly better,” I concede. “Still incredibly awkward.”
He winces. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I shake my head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. It was just… surprising.”
A quiet settles between us. My gaze drifts to the bed and then to him. “I should probably go.”
“Oh.” Miles straightens. “Yeah. Okay.” He clears his throat. “Can I ask why you came over tonight? You said you were thinking of something but never finished.”
Fair question. Why did I come over? It definitely wasn’t supposed to involve swapping orgasms. In fact, it was to prevent the swapping of orgasms. I’m a terrible person. “I—” I hesitate, then shrug. “I stopped to ask if I could get the recipe for the chicken bowls you brought over to my mom’s at Christmas.”
His mouth curves into a smile. “Yeah, they’re super easy. I’ll text it to you.”
“Great!” I say, way more chipper than normal to sound casual. I point toward the door. “I should go.”
“Wait.” He moves to shove his hands in his pockets, but he’s in boxers and doesn’t have pockets, so he settles for crossing his arms instead. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
I blink. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I was thinking… I’m going to the RC park for a bit. If you want to come… I could teach you how to fly again.”
Spend more time with Miles? I shouldn’t. “I—” I stop myself from overthinking. “Yes. I would love that.”
Light flickers in his dark irises. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Once he’s dressed, he walks me out to my car. The night air is cool, but it does nothing to chase the heat from my cheeks.
When we reach the driver’s door, he pulls it open for me. “Text me when you get home.”
“I will.” I slide into the car before I can second-guess myself. He closes the door, and as I pull away, I catch a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror still standing at the curb, hands in his pockets, watching until I turn the corner.
The plan was never to get closer. But somewhere between the unexpected sweetness of his surprise and the intimacy, I did. And the realization settles warm inside me, undeniable, and just a little terrifying.
Twenty-Three
Gentle On The Left Stick
Nora
The RC park is quieter than I expect, only a handful of folding chairs scattered across the grass and the soft hum of drones cutting through the air. Beyond the field, the sky deepens into purple, clinging to the last stretch of evening light.
Miles sets his gear down and flashes me a grin. “Okay. Round two. Ready to fly again?”
“As long as you don’t steer me into the trees,” I say sweetly.
His laugh is so soft and easy that it’s impossible not to laugh along with him. He hands me the controller. I take it, surprised by how my fingers instantly find their place on the sticks. “You still have insurance on this thing, right?”
“I upgraded it just for today.” He winks.
We stand shoulder to shoulder as I ease the drone upward. My hands tremble a little, but Miles stays close—close enough that his warmth radiates onto me, and every time he leans in to point out a specific type of tree or where someone crashed a plane, I forget how breathing works.
“You’re doing great,” he murmurs. “Just… gentle on the left stick.”
I glance at him. “Are we still talking about flying?”
