Chapter 4
When they stepped back inside, the music had somehow gotten louder.
It thudded through the walls, wrapped around bodies, poured out the open windows into the night. Gwen watched as her friends spun in circles on the makeshift dance floor—plastic cups in hand, hair wild, shoes kicked off. Pure chaos. Pure joy.
“I’m not a great dancer,” she said, loud enough for Miles to hear.
“Good,” he said. “Neither am I.”
She raised a brow. “You seem like the type who secretly is.”
He smirked. “You’re not wrong.”
Someone bumped into Gwen from behind, laughing and yelling sorry. The crowd was thick. Sweaty. Glittery. Miles reached for her hand without thinking—steadying her, anchoring her. Their fingers stayed wrapped for a beat too long.
Gwen didn’t let go.
“Wanna prove it?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Prove what?”
“That you can dance.”
He paused—then pulled her toward the crowd with a crooked grin.
The lights overhead shifted colors like a kaleidoscope on speed. Someone’s speaker was blowing out, distorting the bass just enough to make everything feel unstable. Gwen let herself get swept up in it, her body moving with the beat, her pulse matching it.
She felt his hands hover near her waist—close enough to feel, not enough to claim. When she turned, he was already watching her.
They didn’t talk.
They just moved.
Time blurred.
One of her friends passed by with a wink. Another one with a look that said finally. Gwen ignored all of them.
Because in that moment, it felt good to just be a version of herself that didn’t need to explain anything.
When the song ended, Gwen stepped back, breathless.
“You weren’t lying,” she said. “You’ve got moves.”
Miles shrugged, trying to play it cool, but she could tell he was a little winded too.
“Learned from my uncle. Old school stuff.”
“You’re full of surprises.”
“Only the good kind.”
Before she could respond, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“Gwen, hey!” Betty leaned in close, buzzed and glowing. “Can we steal you for a sec? MJ wants a picture—like, of all of us. Band thing.”
“Oh.” Gwen blinked. “Right. Yeah. Just—give me a second.”
Betty’s eyes flicked to Miles, then back to her, smirking. “We’ll be by the stairs!”
She vanished into the crowd.
Gwen looked at Miles. “You cool?”
“I’m good. Go do your thing.”
She hesitated.
Then, before she could second-guess it, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. A quick thing. Barely there. But it made his eyes widen just enough to make her grin.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
Miles watched her go. Something unreadable flickered in his expression.
The picture was fast—smiles forced, hair fixed, flash too bright. Gwen could barely focus.
All she could think about was the warmth of Miles’s hand from before, the way he hadn’t let go until she did. The look in his eyes when she kissed him.
When she made her way back, he wasn’t where she left him.
Her stomach sank.
But then she spotted him leaning near the hallway, talking to someone. A guy. Broad-shouldered. Laughing too hard.
The moment she stepped closer, she heard it:
“So for real, man—you and Stacy? Never saw that coming. I thought she was like, too good for anyone.”
Miles gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, well. You’d be surprised.”
The guy grinned. “Bet I would.”
He wandered off.
Gwen approached slowly.
“You okay?” she asked.
Miles looked at her, smile smaller now.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just… people say weird stuff.”
She nodded. “Tell me about it.”
“You don’t have to keep doing this,” he said. “If it’s too much.”
She looked at him.
And she shook her head.
“I want to,” she said.
For a second, neither of them spoke for a second.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go outside. It’s too loud.”
He followed.
They stepped into the cool air again, standing a little closer than last time.
This time, neither of them mentioned it.
Band practice always ended the same.
Sweaty fingers. Sore wrists. Someone out of sync in the bridge. MJ yelling "Again!" even when it was already dark outside. And Gwen, feeling like her voice didn’t belong there anymore—not really. Just an echo that hadn’t faded yet.
She stepped out into the parking lot alone.
The others had rides. Boyfriends. Brothers. Some carpool deal that never seemed to include her. Not that she minded—not exactly. She liked the walk. Liked the quiet.
But that night, someone was already leaning against the school gate, hoodie pulled over his head, backpack slung low.
Gwen froze.
Miles looked up at the sound of the door. His expression didn’t shift, but he stood a little straighter when he saw her.
She blinked. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d walk you.”
“Why?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Why not?”
She opened her mouth to protest—habit, reflex—but stopped.
Instead, she stepped beside him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
They started walking.
The streets were still damp from earlier rain. The kind that never really fell, just lingered in the air like a warning. Streetlights buzzed above them, each one humming a different tone.
“Practice was rough,” she said, mostly to fill the silence.
“You sounded good,” Miles said.
“You weren’t even there.”
He smirked. “Still sounded good.”
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
They kept walking.
Gwen kicked a pebble down the sidewalk with the toe of her sneaker. It skipped once, twice, and disappeared into the gutter.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said again.
Miles shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You say that a lot.”
“What?”
“That I don’t have to do things.”
“Well… you don’t.”
He glanced at her. “Maybe I just want to.”
That shut her up for a second.
They reached the corner of her block, and neither of them said goodbye. Not right away.
Gwen slowed, then stopped by the old iron fence outside the little deli that always smelled like fried onions and bad coffee.
“Why did you come?” she asked, voice low.
Miles leaned back against the fence. “Just figured… maybe you didn’t want to walk alone tonight.”
She looked at him, trying to find the angle, the joke, the something that would let her breathe past the sudden tightness in her chest.
But there wasn’t one.
Just him. Just standing there like it was no big deal.
Like it could be a big deal, but only if she let it.
“You’re weird,” she said.
He smiled. “Takes one to know one.”
She almost smiled back.
And for a moment, it didn’t feel fake at all.
The house was dark except for the kitchen.
Same as always.
She slipped her keys into the lock as quietly as possible, but the door still gave its usual click—too loud in the stillness. Gwen winced, gently pushing it open.
“Hey, kid.”
Her dad’s voice came from around the corner.
She sighed. “Don’t you sleep?”
Captain George Stacy sat at the table in his uniform shirt, sleeves rolled up, badge and gun belt on the counter like always. A mug of something long gone cold sat in front of him, next to a mostly-finished crossword.
“Not when you’re out,” he said simply.
She dropped her backpack by the door. “It was just practice.”
“And the walk home after.”
Gwen didn’t answer. She grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap, letting the silence settle.
He didn’t push—not yet.
“Saw someone walk you to the gate.”
She froze mid-sip.
He continued, like it was casual. Like it wasn’t a landmine.
“Tall kid. Hoodie. Seemed nice.”
“That was Miles,” she said slowly.
He nodded once. “Miles.”
“From Spanish class, the one I went to the party with.”
“Uh huh.”
She took another sip. “He just walked me home.”
“I noticed.”
Silence again. Gwen looked anywhere but at him.
Then—quietly, almost like he wasn’t sure he should say it—he spoke up again.
“I’m glad.”
She looked up.
“Glad?” she repeated.
He gave a soft chuckle, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
“You’ve been walking alone a lot, Gwen. And you never say it, but I see it. You come in quiet. You’re tired. You barely talk to Peter anymore.”
Gwen looked down at her glass.
“It’s not like I planned it,” she mumbled.
“I know.” He stood and walked to the sink, rinsing his cup with the care of a man who’d seen too much chaos to ever slam anything again.
“But you’re still my kid,” he said. “And the city’s still the city.”
A pause.
“He good to you?” he asked.
Gwen blinked. “Yeah. He is.”
Her dad nodded again. That was enough for him. For now.
She turned toward the hallway.
“Hey, Gwen?”
She paused.
“I don’t know if this is real, or new, or whatever. But… I’m just glad someone’s walking with you.”
That hit harder than she expected.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
Then slipped into the dark hallway without another word.