Chapter 9
Gwen adjusted her bag over one shoulder as she turned the corner toward her locker, earbuds in and hair still slightly damp from her morning shower. Her ballet class had ended late yesterday, and she’d stayed up way too long editing her latest podcast episode. Her brain felt like mashed potatoes.
She reached her locker, spun the combination, and pulled the door open with a creak.
"Morning, Gwen."
She looked up, startled. Miles stood a few feet away, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, the sleeves bunched at his wrists. He looked freshly showered, backpack slung over one shoulder, a small bandage on his thumb.
“Hey,” she said, a little too quickly. “Didn’t see you there.”
He smiled. “That’s kinda my thing.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Right. Stealth mode.”
There was a pause. Not an awkward one—just a quiet, lingering moment. Miles rocked slightly on his heels.
“You, uh, get your physics homework done?” he asked, voice casual but eyes hopeful.
“Mostly,” she replied, tucking a textbook into her bag. “There’s still that one question about trajectory that I swear is just out to personally ruin me.”
“I could show you after class,” Miles offered, then added quickly, “If you want.”
Gwen tilted her head at him, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “You offering tutoring services now?”
He shrugged. “Only for select students with strong opinions about lemon tea.”
She let out a soft laugh, closing her locker. “Well, lucky me.”
As they started walking side by side toward their first class, their shoulders almost brushed. Neither moved away.
Miles scanned the cafeteria, tray in hand. He wasn't really looking for anyone in particular, but his eyes caught on a flash of platinum-blonde hair at a table near the windows. Gwen sat alone, headphones around her neck and a fork poking at a salad like it had personally offended her.
Without overthinking it—because overthinking always made him weird—he walked over.
“Hey,” he said, a little awkward. “This seat taken?”
Gwen glanced up, eyebrows raised. “Nope. But fair warning—my salad's got some issues today.”
Miles chuckled and slid into the seat across from her. “I'll try not to take it personally.”
There was a brief lull as they started eating. Outside, the sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden stripes across the table.
“You ever think school lunch is just a social experiment?” Gwen asked suddenly. “Like, how bad can food get before someone finally says something?”
Miles grinned. “You say that like you haven’t willingly eaten mystery meat before.”
“I’ve made mistakes,” she said solemnly, then added, “But not that big.”
He laughed again, and Gwen smiled, genuinely. She picked up a carton of milk and raised it like a toast. “To edible choices.”
Miles bumped his juice box against it. “To survival.”
They sipped, eyes meeting for a second longer than either planned.
“So,” Miles said, trying to sound chill but probably failing, “you doing anything after school?”
Gwen blinked. “Ballet class. Why?”
He shrugged, noncommittal. “Just wondering. You know, in case you need… homework help.”
She smiled again—teasing, but not unkind. “I'll let you know if the salad doesn't finish me off first.”
Amaya was upside down on her bed, legs flopped over the headboard and a fashion magazine dangling from her hands above her face.
Gwen walked in, dropped her backpack, and immediately faceplanted into her pillow with a groan.
Amaya didn’t even look up. “That sounds like someone who either failed a quiz or saw their crush in flattering lighting.”
Gwen groaned louder. “Amayaaa…”
Amaya grinned. “Oh my god. It’s the second one, isn’t it? Was it Morales again?”
Gwen sat up, rubbing her face. “I didn’t see him, okay? He… sat with me at lunch.”
Amaya sat up properly now, abandoning the magazine. “Voluntarily?”
“He asked,” Gwen said, shrugging, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal.
“It is a huge deal,” Amaya said, eyes wide. “You eat lunch alone, like, religiously. Even I’ve been rejected.”
“That’s not true—”
“I brought sushi, Gwen.”
Gwen snorted, but her cheeks were a little pink. “It was just lunch.”
Amaya narrowed her eyes, very dramatically. “Do you like him?”
Gwen hesitated.
Amaya gasped like it was her life’s calling. “You do! You totally do!”
Gwen covered her face again, muffled, “He’s just nice.”
“Uh-huh,” Amaya said, smug now. “Well, I hope ‘just nice’ is tutoring you tomorrow, because you’re gonna need math support and emotional support at this rate.”
Gwen peeked over her hands. “…Actually, we might be meeting up.”
Amaya shrieked.
Gwen got there first.
She’d circled the block twice before going in. Twice. Because she couldn’t decide if showing up too early would seem weird or like she cared too much. But then again, if she was late, that would definitely be worse. So she stood outside for a full five minutes, pretending to read the specials on the chalkboard before finally stepping in.
The place was warm and cozy—just the right mix of indie music and mismatched mugs. Gwen picked a window seat, pulled out her notebook, and tried to breathe like a normal person.
Miles walked in six minutes later, hoodie slung casually over one shoulder, curls a little messy, and that smile—ugh, that smile—as soon as he spotted her.
"Hey," he said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“No, no, I just got here.” Lie. She’d been sitting for exactly eleven minutes and twenty-three seconds.
He glanced at the notebook in front of her. “Already starting without me?”
Gwen grinned, relaxing a little. “Just warming up.”
“Nice. You’re the only person I know who warms up with equations.”
They ordered drinks—he got lemon tea, she got iced coffee—and Miles insisted on paying. Gwen tried to protest, but he just gave her this stubborn look and said, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’ll be doing all the actual work.”
Their drinks came, and they opened their books, but every few minutes one of them would make a joke or get distracted. Gwen doodled a tiny Spider-Man in the corner of her notes. Miles noticed.
He tapped the little sketch. “He looks kinda familiar.”
She froze. “What? Oh, no—I mean, not really.”
“Hmm.” He smirked. “Is it that famous hero you like? How's that blog doing?”
Gwen flushed. “Hero? W-why would you think that?”
He laughed softly, he was teasing her. “Lucky guess.”
She smiled into her cup, heart hammering. “And, it’s not a blog,” she said defensively. “It’s a… podcast. And a blog. And maybe a fan page.”
Miles leaned back, grinning like it was the best thing he’d heard all day. “I still think it's kinda cool.”
“No, it’s super nerdy.”
“Yeah, but cool-nerdy.”
They didn’t get too much tutoring done that day. But Gwen walked back to the dorm with her heart feeling like a helium balloon, floating somewhere above her head.
She liked him. And for once, she didn’t feel weird about it.