There will be one more part after this

///

Miles didn't sleep for even a moment that night. He sat up messaging you nonstop, and when the sun came up, you both realized what time it was. 

SENT BY: ____

Crap 

I literally have to get up in like two hours

Miles sent back:

SENT BY: Miles

I am so sorry

SENT BY: ___

No you don't need to apologize

I really like talking to you

If I wasn't about to fall asleep and wasn't terrified of my parents finding out that I am still awake, I would totally keep talking to you

Miles didn't know what to say. 

His heart was thumping out of his chest. He couldn't hide his smile, he couldn't catch his breath. This was unreal. He felt like maybe this girl actually liked him.

Don't be stupid - she just met you. (But she's totally flirting back!) Man, I wish I could tell Uncle Aaron.

SENT BY: ___

Miles? 

You up?

Oh, crap!

SENT BY: Miles

Yeah yeah 

I'm up

Just thinking

You messaged back:

Oh okay

What are you thinking about?

His thumbs froze, hovering over the keyboard. Could he really say it? 

Yeah. Yeah, he could. 

SENT BY: Miles

I'm thinking about you. 

SENT BY: ___

I'm thinking about you, too.

Miles marked six thirty in the morning as the moment he realized that he was going to do anything and everything to get you to like him just as much as he liked you. And every single day after that, he made sure he did something to show you. 

He would send you a good morning text, text you throughout first period, because you weren't going to school just yet. You were still moving in. But when you finally did get to go to school in the next week, you would be going with him. 

It wasn't hard to flirt with you, and it wasn't hard to get you to like him back. It was natural; you both were best friends so soon after meeting. Everything worked out perfectly; nothing had to be forced.

Miles didn't see you until the day you started school at Brooklyn Visions.

"There you are," you said, waiting by him at the office door. He shot a grin and did some stupid looking finger-gun thing, and you did it back and laughed. Then he hugged you. 

Pulling back, he asked, "How's your first day been?"

"Uh, well, first period was sort of embarrassing. I didn't think teachers actually made their new students go up to the front of the classroom and introduce themselves." 

"Oh, dang," he said. "That sucks."

"I know, right?" You glanced at the ceiling. "Ugh, it's just... everyone laughed." You shrugged. "Oh, and people, like, know me. Have you talked about me?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I've told everyone that you're my girl." He put his arm around your shoulders. "Why?"

You just laughed and beamed up at him. But then your lips dropped and your face fell and you paused in your steps.

Miles laughed nervously. "What's wrong? I thought we were dating-"

"We are," you said. "It's just... my parents." You winced.

"What about them?" he asked. 

"You've told yours about me," you said, "but I haven't told mine about you."

"Why?" he asked. "Are you... embarrassed of me?"

"No! I'm not embarrassed. It's just that my parents have huge standards. And they're going to want me to introduce you to them myself. So I think you should come over tonight for dinner. I'll warn them that a friend of mine is coming and then I will introduce you to them and everything will be okay."

Miles raised an eyebrow. "If you really believed that everything was gonna be okay, you wouldn't be shaking as bad as you are."

//

That night, Miles's mom had driven him over to ___'s house. It was a two story, with a full garden, and a full yard. Miles's mother shook her head.

"Such a nice place," she said. 

"It's okay," Miles said, eyes on his phone screen. He was waiting for a text from you, giving him the all clear. When it came through, he sat up straight. "All right, I gotta go."

"When you are in there, I want you to be on your best behavior. Be the sweet, charming boy that I know you are." She leaned in and kissed the side of his face. "And have fun!"

"I will, Mom. Thanks." He got out of the car and shut the door behind him. Then he jogged up the sidewalk, hopped onto the porch, and fixed his suit. He patted the front of his hair, and then he rang the doorbell.

When the door opened, it was your father.

"U-Uh - hello, sir," Miles said, stumbling over his words. 

Dang it. Screwing up already?

"Miles, right?" your father, with his voice low and strict-sounding, asked.

"Uh, yeah," he replied. "How are you, sir?" He held out his hand.

Your father shook it, a slightly annoyed look on his face. "I'm great." He stepped aside. "Come on in. ___ is in the kitchen with her mother. I will introduce you to my wife. Follow me, please-"

"Okay," Miles said. As he walked through the den and living room, he realized how stinkin' fancy this place was. But he remembered what you said, about your mother being a lawyer. 

Do people really live like this?

Miles had let you see his house. He couldn't believe that he had let you come over. Now he was embarrassed.

But once he saw you in the kitchen, he felt like he could breathe. 

"Dear," your father said, and you and your mother turned around. 

"Miles," you said, smiling wide. And it was natural.

Miles's heart jumped in his chest. You were always this happy to see him, and that surprised him so much. Each and every time.

"Hi," he said, voice slightly squeaky. He cleared his throat, holding a closed fist to his mouth. "Excuse me."

You smiled in amusement. "Uh, Mom, Dad, this is Miles." You introduce him fondly, walking over to him and hooking your arm in his. "Officer Davis's son."

"It's nice to meet you," your mother said, far too sweetly.

//

At the dinner table, your parents poured wine for themselves and you and Miles got ice water. He sat next to you at the table, and you helped him fold the cloth napkin that you each had. 

He draped it over his lap and said under his breath, "You guys seriously use these every day?"

"No, just when we have guests," you whispered. 

When your parents sat down and the pasta was passed around, they started to ask Miles about his life. You were nervous as they did so, because it seemed more like it was an interview than the first time they were meeting. You tried to keep it as light as possible, but the truth was, you were scared of what they were saying.

Miles talked about how is mother was Puerto Rican. And then he told them about where he used to go to school. 

Your father laughed under his breath. "Oh, I am so sorry that you had to go there," he said, and your mother smiled. 

Miles stopped chewing. He glanced at you, and you laughed nervously. "Why... are you sorry? I think Miles liked it there."

"Yeah, it's a good school," he said. "My friends are all there."

"But it has a very poor education system. I mean, when we were trying to find a school for ___, it nearly killed us having to put her in Brooklyn Visions. We need the very best for our daughter to become a lawyer." You mother nodded. 

You looked down, pretending to grab your napkin to wipe your face.

"Oh," Miles said awkwardly. 

"What about you? What are you doing when you grow up?" your father asked.

"Well, I'm not sure yet, but I'm really into art. My Uncle Aaron thinks I have a real chance to use it in the future. I like to think that he's right."

"Oh, you shouldn't waste your time on art," you father said. "That's a pointless profession."

"Dad," you said quickly. "What are you doing?"

He chuckled. "I am only saying what I believe. We told her the exact same thing. She wants to do all of these creative things, but those are just hobbies-"

"I don't mean to brag or anything, but I'm really good," Miles said. "I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, he isn't an amateur, Dad. Miles has won contests before." From under the table, you grabbed Miles's hand. He held on tight. "I don't think you guys should start telling him what to do with his life."

Your mother laughed. "We're only trying to guide your friend, honey. Who knows if his parents will."

"E-Excuse me?" Miles squeaked. "My parents do guide me. They're great parents."

"Oh, we're sure they are," your father said, "but all we're saying is-"

You stood up. "No! Stop talking!" You pushed your chair back with your legs and shook your head. "What is wrong with you? Why are you asking him all of these questions? Just leave him alone! I really like this boy and you are trying to drive him away by being rude! I knew you would do this. I knew it! This was such a stupid mistake." You had tears in your eyes and you grabbed Miles's arm. You gently pulled him up out of his seat and he stumbled over his feet behind you.

"W-Where are we going?"

You took him to the den. You handed him his shoes. "Call your mom and tell her to come and get you."

"What?" he asked. He took the shoes from you. "I-I don't want to leave. I want to make it work with your parents."

"They're not going to try to make it work," you said. "It's only a matter of time before they start picking over something else they don't like about you." 

The tears were slipping now and Miles was putting his shoes on. You grabbed his face when he was done and you gave him a fast kiss on the lips. It made Miles stumbled back in shock.

He couldn't believe that his first kiss with you was during this. 

He'd pictured it a million times in his head. But it was always something romantic, like in that Spider-Man comic, where Mary Jane kissed Spider-Man as he hung upside down. 

But this wasn't what he wanted.

"Just know that I care about you," you whispered. "So much. And I am so sorry that I couldn't make this work." You pushed him towards the door. 

"___, wait-" he pleaded.

"Goodbye, Miles," you said. 

And you shut the door and locked it, forcing him to stay outside.