Chapter Text
Gwen’s back is the first thing he notices, warm and bare under his arm. The second is that neither of them are wearing a damn thing. And the third? That he’s pressed up against her in a way no version of “good morning” can explain. Miles swallows hard, eases himself away, and rolls onto his back.
They’re in his room, but Miles feels like he needs permission to get up and move about. Does she want him to wake her up or let her sleep? Does she want him to make her breakfast or does she want to go home right away? If she woke up before him, would she have left without saying goodbye? Miles asked plenty of questions last night. The most frequent one being “are you okay with this?” Gwen asked that a lot, too, now that he thinks about it. Neither had particularly much to drink, but he still wanted to make sure.
Miles can’t lie. He’s dreamed about this a lot. He takes a moment to pinch himself to make sure he’s actually awake. Gwen is still here, they’re both still naked in his bed, and he still doesn’t know what his next move is.
He knows what he wants to do. He wants to go back to cuddling Gwen, but since she’s not awake to ask, Miles stays put.
Time is moving slow this morning. Aggressively slow. Miles can’t go back to sleep. He’s too wired. Too aware of every little detail. Gwen’s foreign but sweet scent. Her dress on the floor and her heels in the lamp. Sometimes, Miles will roll over in the middle of the night and pick at the sheets and think about how cold they are. This morning, they’re refreshingly warm. If something were ever missing from his life, this was it.
Miles decides it’s all right if he steals a glance, just to check on her. As is often is the case, his “glance” towards Gwen turns into staring.
Her hair is a complete disaster, come undone from the neat style she wore last night. Miles wants to smooth it down but also keep it exactly like that. He can’t see her face, but he doesn’t need to - he imagines her smiling in her sleep, remembering the way her nose crinkles when her lips turn up, flashing the adorable gap between her two front teeth. The blanket has slipped low enough that the whole line of her back is bare, every curve and detail highlighted by the sun. A single freckle sits just below her shoulder blade, and somehow, it’s the most distracting thing he’s ever seen. Miles finds himself imagining what it would feel like to trace her spine again, to rest his hand at the small of her back and feel that warmth against his palm. Instead, he stays still, watching the slow rhythm of her breathing.
This blissful image comes crashing down with one intrusive thought; there are unwritten rules for co-workers, and they’ve broken all of them. And a soft groan from the pillow tells him they’re about to break a few more.
Gwen shifts slightly beneath the blanket, her foot brushing against his. Miles freezes and holds his breath, his pulse spiking. She turns over, slow and careful, eyes still closed until her face is towards him. Her hand snakes up his torso and stops on his chest, and something in her movements tell Miles that she’s waking up, about to remember where she is and what they did. His gaze flicks down for a fraction of a second before he jerks it back up, silently reminding himself that he’s seen this already.
“Uh…” Miles clears his throat. “Hey.”
He can practically hear the gears turning in her head. Her eyes snap open, her chin lifting inch by inch. Miles presses his lips together as if to say “good morning” and fixes his gaze on the ceiling.
“Hi,” Gwen says. She sits up and pulls the blanket over her chest as she pushes herself upright against the headboard. “How - how are you?”
“Uh… good. You?”
“Good,” she echoes. “Sleep well?”
It was the best night sleep of his entire life, but Miles doesn’t want to come off too eager, so he simply answers with “Yeah, you?”
“Same.”
“Cool,” Miles says. “Can I - can I get you anything?”
Gwen glances at the heap of her dress on the floor and makes a face. “Can I borrow a shirt? Or something. Please?”
“Yeah - yeah, of course,” Miles says quickly, already swinging his legs out of bed. “No problem.” He stands, and for a few long, unprepared seconds, he forgets that there isn’t anything covering him. Miles stops dead in his tracks and looks over his shoulder.
Gwen’s eyes flick down, her lips parting just slightly before she seems to catch herself. There’s the tiniest hitch in her breath, and her eyes snap back to his face as if the sight physically burned her. There’s a bright flush to her cheeks that Miles pretends he doesn’t notice, and he makes his way to his dresser to put on a pair of boxers. He grabs a pair for Gwen, too, in addition to the shirt she asked for.
“How’s this?” he asks once he’s completed the five-step journey back to the bed.
“Thank you,” Gwen mutters. The blanket slips down when she grabs them, and Miles turns his back as quick as he can. “Okay, I’m good,” she says after a few moments of rustling.
When he turns around, Miles drops his head. Seeing Gwen in his clothes is almost worse than Gwen being naked. “You look nice.” Beautiful was the first word that popped into his mind, but again, Miles doesn’t want to come on too strong.
Gwen tugs at the hem of his shirt. The neckline dips low - way too low - so she adjusts it by letting it hang off one shoulder. Her eyes skim over his chest and shoulders as if to compare herself to him.
“You’re… bigger than I thought.” Gwen bites her lip and immediately winces at her own words. “Not… huge, just… good. Like, really good. Strong. I mean, wow, not in a weird way. Okay, that’s terrible, I’m terrible at this.” She twists the fabric in her hands and laughs. “And… you’re hot. God, I don’t know what I’m saying this morning.” She groans softly and presses her palm to her forehead, cheeks burning bright.
Miles blinks, caught somewhere between flattered and panicked. “Thank you. You’re…” Miles bites his cheek as a flirtatious line floats to the front of his mind. He decides he’s too scared to go through with it and goes with “Yeah, weird morning.”
“Weird,” Gwen says. “Not bad weird.”
“Right. Definitely not bad.” Miles rubs the back of his neck. “Good weird. If that’s a thing.”
“It's a thing.” Gwen shifts over - an invitation for Miles to sit beside her. “So… last night.”
Miles swallows. “Yeah.”
She nods once, still not looking at him. “It was… something.” There’s a flicker of a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “What’s a wedding without a hook-up, right?” Gwen laughs.
Miles’ brain trips over itself trying to figure out what’s going through her head right now. He’s still searching for a reply when she suddenly freezes. “Wait, where’s my purse?”
“Your purse?”
“I don’t remember where I -” She throws the blanket back and starts tearing through the bed, shaking out the sheets, tossing pillows aside like it might be hiding in the chaos. No luck. Gwen leans over to check every inch of the nightstand, muttering, “Where is it?” under her breath as she lifts her crumpled dress off the floor. Her shoulders go rigid and her hands shoot to her head. “Shoot - what if I left it in the uber?”
Miles sits up straighter, his stomach sinking. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” He pauses, his memory returning slowly - Gwen shoving him against the door last night, kissing him before he even got the key in. “You dropped it by the door.”
Gwen is already out in the hallway. Miles grabs a shirt of his own before following.
“Okay, I’ve got it!” she yells from the foyer, her voice much more relaxed now. Gwen has the purse clutched to her chest as if it might vanish again. The tension visibly melts off her shoulders as she opens it and pulls out her phone. “Thank God, I thought I - ah, damn. Didn’t plug it in last night. Can I borrow your charger?”
It’s kind of endearing that she still asks, despite him lending it to her about a dozen times this month alone. “Sure,” he says, not making any effort to conceal his smile.
“Thanks,” she says. The screen lights her face, and her eyes go wide. “Miles.”
“What?”
“We’re late!”
Miles’ head spins towards the clock on the microwave.
8:45
“Oh, crap,” he mutters, hanging his head.
“We have to hurry,” Gwen says, brushing past Miles and back into the bedroom. She tosses her purse onto the bed and strips off her shirt without a moment of hesitation, snagging her bra off the floor.
“Take whatever you want from the closet,” Miles says, opening a drawer for pants.
Gwen flips through the rack, each hanger clicking in quick succession. “Don’t you have anything smaller? Or tighter?”
“Nope,” Miles says, stepping into a pair of slacks. “I don’t really go for spandex.”
She shoots him a look over her shoulder, but they’re in too much of a hurry to argue. A few more hangers go by before she stops. Gwen takes a sweater off the hanger and turns to Miles, holding it up to her body. “What do you think? Maybe people will think it’s supposed to be big, right?”
“Sure. I think it’ll look good on you,” Miles says. He comes to stand beside her. “‘Scuse me.” His arm brushes hers as he plucks his own from the rack. “Pants are over there.”
“Perfect, thanks,” Gwen says. She puts it on the bed. “I’m taking a pair of your shoes, too. What about pants?”
“I, uh, I don’t think these will fit you either. But I can give you a belt”
“Okay, I guess I’m going to have a baggy day today,” Gwen says. “Do you think people will notice that I’m wearing your clothes?”
“No,” Miles answers. “Do you remember anyone’s outfit?”
She hesitates for a moment before she says “no,” but Miles thinks she doesn’t sound convinced of her words.
Gwen pulls a pair of pants from the drawer, stepping in and immediately groaning. “Oh my God, these could fit two of me. I think you promised me a belt, Mr Morales.”
“Miss Stacy,” he replies, handing one over.
She threads it through and yanks it tight, her waistband bunching up in uneven folds. “I look ridiculous.”
“You look good in everything,” Miles says before he can stop himself.
Gwen’s ears go pink. She ducks her head, clearly just pretending to fuss with the belt. “Thanks.”
They get dressed together. Gwen rolls up the legs of her pants while Miles buttons his shirt. And for a second, it feels almost domestic. Like this could be normal for them.
Miles has never felt lonely. But sometimes the silence in his apartment is just a little too loud. Sometimes he catches himself walking slower, like there’s no one beside him to match pace with. Sometimes he makes coffee in the morning and wonders what it would be like to pour a second cup.
And now, he wonders if this is what it’s like to fill that absence.
“Not bad,” Gwen says as she examines herself in the mirror. “Shoes are kind of obvious, but I can make them work.”
“Try not to trip,” Miles says, grabbing his wallet and keys off the dresser.
“I’ll swing by tonight after work to pick up my dress and stuff. If that’s cool with you.”
“Yeah, of course,” Miles says quickly, ushering her towards the door.
They hurry down the hall towards the elevator. Gwen presses the button and asks, “What time is it?”
Miles checks his watch. “It is… Eight Fifty-One.”
“And how long does it usually take you to get to school?”
“Ten, fifteen minutes, depending on the lights.”
She groans, rubbing her hands over her face and up through her hair. “Okay, here’s the plan: you drop me off a block or two away. Less suspicious if we don’t show up at the same time.”
The elevator doors slide open and they step inside.
“How much do you think people saw last night?” Miles asks. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks Gwen’s body twist. Miles is getting a stressed out vibe from her, but he pretends like he doesn’t notice, hoping it will go away by the time they get to the car.
“They saw us dance.” Gwen pauses as they exit the elevator. “But that’s not a big deal. We danced with a lot of people. But we didn’t kiss any of them. Or did you?”
Miles thinks of a joke, but he keeps it to himself. “Nope. Just you. Do… you think anyone saw us do that? Or leave together? My car’s this way, by the way.”
A lot of their co-workers left before they did. Kids to get back to and babysitters to relieve. Miles thinks he kissed Gwen after that. Or rather, she kissed him. She was waiting for him outside the bathroom before she went for it, tucked away in a secluded corridor far from the dance floor and away from people’s prying eyes. “If you want me to stop, let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?” Miles thinks first kisses being nice. Something sweet and innocent instead of lust-filled. But he pulled her closer, matching her fervour, feeling the warmth of her skin sear through the fabric between them. Miles tried to not let it get out of hand, but Gwen’s lips were incessant and her nails were skimming over his ribs.
“I don’t think anyone saw us leave,” Gwen says as they make their way through the parking garage. Her voice is lower now, cautious. “But if they did… we’ll just say we were carpooling. As far as they know, I went back to my home, you went back to your home, and nothing happened.”
Miles nods, unlocking his car with a beep. “Yeah. Carpooling. Totally normal. I’ve got it,” he says, getting her door for her. She says he doesn’t have to do that, but his parents raised a gentleman. And she smiles in the end, which Miles considers a small win.
However, in the car, the silence sits heavy, and his mind drifts back to the night before, to the second Gwen’s back hit his bed. She pulled him down with her, laughter turning into a sharp inhale when his hands found her waist. The zipper of her dress gave way, and the fabric slipped down her shoulders, making his pulse hammer away. Gwen wriggled out of it impatiently, kicking it to the floor without breaking the kiss.
Miles’ shirt didn’t last longer. Gwen’s hands shook as she fumbled with the buttons, muttering something against his lips before giving up and letting him handle it.
Every second, every touch was burned into his brain. The brush of her thighs against his. Her chest pressing into him as she arched. The warmth of her breath whenever they broke the kiss just long enough to ask, “Are you sure?” The answer was the same every time; a breathless “yes” sealed with yet another kiss.
Miles’ grip on the steering wheel tightens as the memory dissolves, leaving only the sound of Gwen putting on her seatbelt.
“So…” he starts. “Can we talk about last night? Or… do we just drive?”
Gwen clears her throat, staring straight ahead. “Drive,” she says.
Miles nods. “Okay. Sure,” he says, though the weight on his chest doesn’t ease.
As they drive along, Gwen keeps her eyes trained out the window, one hand fiddling with her sleeve like she needs something to do. He keeps sneaking glances at her, pretending to check the mirror and looking back to the road before he gets caught.
Miles bites the inside of his cheek, wanting to ask her a question, to push just a little bit, to get the smallest clue about what’s going through her mind. But the set of her jaw tells him not to.
“Here’s good,” Gwen says when they’re two blocks away. When he pulls to a stop, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gives him a glance. Her expression is unreadable. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Any time,” he says, forcing a half-smile.
Without another word, Gwen pushes the door open and slips out, adjusting the oversized sweater as she heads up the sidewalk. She’s going slow. He should get a move on.
When he makes it to the parking lot, Miles doesn’t leave just yet. He’s late, but he’s in no mood to leave his car and face the world. He blows out a breath and rests his head against the steering wheel, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now. Pretend like nothing happened? Acknowledge it but pretend like it didn’t mean anything? The wheel digs into his forehead as he wishes he could stay there all day, hidden instead of pretending everything is okay.
Eventually, Miles drags a hand down his face, grabs his messenger bag from the back seat, and climbs out. The air is much colder, sharper, trying to snap him awake. He squares his shoulders, locks the car, and commands himself to move - one foot in front of the other.
By the time he pushes through the doors, the halls are completely empty. Normally, Miles cuts down the east wing to pass Gwen’s classroom, just to say hello. This morning, however, he takes the west wing.
When he gets to his room, his students are already in their seats. The clock above the whiteboard reads 9:07. Late, but not unforgivable.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone. Rough morning,” he says setting his bag on the desk. “How was everyone’s weekend?”
One of the girls in the front row, Phoebe, raises her hand and asks, “How was Mr Prabhakar’s wedding?”
The last thing Miles wants to do is think about the wedding. “It was nice,” he answers. “Beautiful ceremony, good food, they’re very happy together. Hope they’re enjoying their honeymoon.”
“Were you out late?” a student in the back asks.
Miles shifts his weight, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Later than I planned,” he admits. “Which is why I’m a little late this morning. But don’t worry - I can still teach just fine.”
Another voice pipes up. “Did you dance?”
He exhales heavily through his nose. “Of course. You all know I’ve got the moves. Now, where were we?” he says, trying to move on. “Conduction, convection, and radiation.”
“With who?” comes the follow up. Megan, he recognises. Always curious about everything. Science, and his life. A lot of times he appreciates it, but not this morning.
“Pardon me?”
“Who’d you dance with?” she repeats.
That one hits harder than it should. Miles hopes it’s not visible on his face. He turns his back to the class and grabs a marker, writing on the whiteboard. “Lots of people. Mr Prabhakar was the best. And before you ask, yes, he led.”
That earns a small wave of laughter from his students, and Miles feels his shoulders relax.
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yes, Holly,” Miles says. “Yes it was. But you know what’s even more fun? Heat transfer, which is what we’re going to be learning today.”
The period flies by without any more questions of the wedding. Miles has always fancied himself one of the more captivating teachers at school, and he makes sure to put in extra effort this morning. So much effort that by the time second period rolls around, his stomach is growling louder than the bell. And because he was due for some good luck, second period on a Monday happens to be free.
He lets his students go with a wave, dropping into his chair the moment the last one flies out. His stomach growls again, and he swears he can hear it speaking to him. “What’s that?” he asks rhetorically. “I should check the fridge in the teachers’ lounge? Okay, you’re the boss.”
Normally, he waits until the halls are empty. It was tough enough making it from class to class when he was in high school as a student. It’s even worse now that he’s a teacher and students want to stop him to ask questions or beg for extensions on assignments. But today, he thinks, it will serve as a nice cover from other teachers. In particular, the hot music/PE teacher.
Miles slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and steps out into the sea of students. He keeps his head down, offering the occasional nod or quick “good morning”, not slowing down long enough to be cornered. The empty feeling in his stomach pushes him forward.
The teachers’ lounge is blessedly empty when he opens the door. The coffee machine is gurgling in the corner, there are bagels on the table, and the faint hum of the vending machine fills the silence. Absolutely perfect.
Miles grabs three bagels, and a familiar voice says, “please tell me you’re saving one for me.”
Without looking, Miles says, “Better hurry, man. I’m starving.”
Peter pats him on the shoulder as he slips past him, heading straight for the coffee machine. It’s clear he didn’t get the chance to shave this morning.
Miles tears into his first bagel, cheeks full when Peter takes a seat next to him.
“Late night?” Peter yawns into his mug.
He swallows, then nods. “Yeah. Weddings, y’know?”
“Ah,” Peter says, pouring in a questionable amount of cream. He takes one sip, shrugs, and pours in even more. “I wish we could’ve stayed longer, but Mayday can’t sleep if we don’t tuck her in. Anyways, did I miss anything fun?”
Miles buys himself some time by taking another bite. “Uh… not really,” he manages when he swallows. “I mean, it was fun, but nothing different than any other wedding.” Unless you count two co-workers hooking up.
Peter blows on his coffee, leaning back in his chair. “Gwen looked great last night, didn’t she. Mary Jane helped her pick out that dress.”
Miles almost chokes. “... Oh?”
“Yeah,” Peter says, oblivious. “She was super excited to help, too. And she did a great job. Dress really suited Gwen. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when she gets to do this type of stuff with Mayday.”
“Uh… yeah. She - she looked nice.”
Peter doesn’t seem to notice the hitch in his voice. He’s more preoccupied with dumping sugar into his coffee. “You’re lucky you’re young. I don’t think I could survive half a day without this stuff. You won’t believe how many times I’ve almost fallen asleep at my desk.”
“Yeah… I might need some of that, too,” Miles sighs.
“Yeah? What time did you finally crash?”
The real answer? Some time after two in the morning when Gwen fell asleep with her head on his chest, her legs tangled with his, her breath slow and steady as he stared at the ceiling, wide awake.
“Late. I don’t know, man, it’s all a blur.”
Peter hums, taking a long sip. “Must’ve been one hell of a night.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Miles mutters.
The older teacher keeps talking, but Miles isn’t listening, try as he may. Something about grading papers, or maybe about Mayday’s latest trick. Miles’ eyes have wandered past Peter’s shoulder, out the window to the far end of the lounge.
From here, he has a clear view of the field.
Gwen is out there, whistle at her lips hair pulled up into a ponytail that sways as she paces the track. He remembers admiring her hair this morning; a complete disaster, falling loose across his pillow. Now it’s neat, practical, and miles away from the mess his fingers had created. She’s changed her clothes, too - his oversized sweater and baggy pants gone. Instead, she’s put on a spare PE uniform.
She looks so composed. So normal. Like nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.
Miles takes in a deep breath before he sighs, long and loud, leaving his chest feeling even emptier than before.
“Hey,” Peter waves his hand in front of him, pulling his attention away from the window. “You okay, Miles?”
“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he lies, straightening in his chair. “Just tired.”
Peter doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push him either. He goes back to drinking his coffee, and Miles decides he’s had enough of pretending. He grabs his last bagel, slings his bag over his shoulder, and mutters, “I need some air. See you later, man.”
“See ya.”
Miles isn’t even sure where he’s going when he leaves the lounge. His feet carry him through the halls, aimless until, eventually, he catches a glimpse of blonde hair.
Gwen blinks. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.” Miles forces a smile. “I… thought you were outside.”
“Stepped in for some water,” Gwen says, brandishing a bottle. “I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since last night.”
His smile softens. “Then I guess I owe you breakfast.”
She quirks, twisting the bottle in her hand. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Well… maybe I want to.”
Gwen looks around, blows out a breath, then steps towards him, keeping her voice to a whisper. “About last night…”
Miles tries to steady himself. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been doing some thinking, and… It was… nice. Really nice,” she laughs, short and awkward. “You know, fun. You’re… you’re always easy to talk to.”
He nods slowly, trying to fight off a smile. He doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job. “I like talking to you, too.”
“Good,” Gwen says, tucking a portion of her hair behind her ear. “Because it doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be complicated, right? It can just… stay that way. Fun, I mean. No big deal.”
His heart dips. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that…” Gwen scans the halls once more to make sure they’re still alone. “It doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. But it also doesn’t have to be a big thing. I’m saying… you’re my best friend here. And we don’t have to put a label on this or drag it into every part of our lives. You don’t have to cook me breakfast or… take me to dinner, or…” She waves her hand vaguely. “Introduce me to your mom. We can just… stay friends here and let this work while it works.”
Miles swallows hard. “If that’s what you want…”
“I just think that’s the only way it doesn’t blow up in our face,” Gwen says, her voice softer with every word she utters.
He pretends to look around for people. Really, he just doesn’t want her to see his expression until he can get it as nonchalant as he can manage. “Okay… yeah. That - that works for me, too.”
For a beat, Gwen doesn’t say anything. Her mouth opens, then closes again. Her eyes go to the floor. “I -”
“Hey, Mr Morales!”
Both their heads snap down the hall. Three students in PE uniforms have seemingly abandoned the track and are heading towards them. They’re grinning at Miles, laughing under their breaths.
“Hey.” He manages a wave.
“So… what are you guys doing here?” the middle one, Wendy, asks.
“Shut up, don’t be weird,” Heidi mutters. Miles isn’t sure they were supposed to hear that.
“Uh…” Miles rubs the back of his neck. “Just checking in with Miss Stacy.”
“Checking in? That’s what we’re calling it?” Nicole asks without missing a beat. Her two friends look like they’re about to burst out laughing. Gwen’s face goes a shade pinker.
“What are you girls doing here?” Gwen asks, trying to sound stern.
“Looking for you,” Nicole answers. “We’re all done our laps and you were gone for a while.”
“I was going to get water. And unless you want five extra laps, you’d better get moving. Understand?”
The girls scatter instantly, still looking giddy as they head back to the track.
Gwen turns to Miles. “Sorry about… I should…” She points over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Miles.”
“Yeah, see you later.” He heads in the direction opposite of her, the sound of Gwen’s sneakers cutting sharp through the air behind him.
By the time lunch rolls around, Miles is running on fumes, and he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling in his chest. The morning dragged by in flashes - fake laughter, fake smiles, going through the motions of the lessons with only Gwen on his mind.
Miles almost considers skipping lunch. Just stay in his classroom for the hour and avoid the risk of running into someone who might -
His stomach growls so loud that it makes the decision for him.
The teachers’ lounge is packed when he gets there. Every chair taken up, voices overlapping, the smell of reheated food hanging in the air. Miles hesitates in the doorway, but moving backwards would be even worse. He steps inside, shoulders tight as he heads straight for the fridge.
Behind him, someone laughs, and he nearly jumps.
“These came out great!” Miles recognises the voice of Mrs Lau. He glances behind him to see three of his colleagues huddled around the table, passing a phone between them.
“Everyone looks so good,” another says. “Especially Pavitr and Gayatri.”
“Hey, Miles!” Mrs Lau catches him before he can duck away. “Want to come see?”
There’s no polite way out. He swallows, forces a smile, and joins them.
The phone is shoved into his hand, and there she is. Gwen. Laughing at something off-camera, glass in hand.
“She looked beautiful,” Mrs Lau observes, which all the others echo.
Miles clears his throat. “Yeah.” It feels like broken glass is in his mouth, and before anyone can notice the strain in his voice, he swipes to the next picture.
Gwen again. Of course it is. She’s mid-laugh while Hobie is in the background making a speech and raising a glass. He half-expects Hobie to pop out of nowhere and say something along the lines of ‘shagging your co-worker, bruv?’
Miles swipes again. Another shot of Gwen - this time with Gayatri.
“Oh, that’s such a good one,” one of the teacher says, leaning over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Miles mutters and swipes.
And Gwen is still on the screen.
“I guess we’re in the Gwen section,” Mrs Lau says. “Oh! Speak of the devil.”
Miles didn’t even hear her come in.
Gwen is standing by the door with a water bottle in hand, tilting it back for a long drink. When she notices the crowded room, it’s Miles she locks eyes with first. She chokes suddenly, sputtering through her gulp.
“You okay, Gwen?” a fellow teacher asks.
Gwen coughs, waves her hand dismissively, and clears her throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” she says, her voice harsh and her cheeks red. “Wrong pipe.”
“Are you sure?” another asks.
“Yep,” Gwen answers before taking another sip, this one going down much smoother. “So, what’s up?”
“Wedding pictures!” a teacher says brightly. “Come see!”
Miles wants to shrink down and disappear, but Gwen just slides in on his left, folding her arms loosely as the phone is held up to her.
“I know I said this already, but that was such a nice dress,” Mrs Lau says.
Gwen shrugs. “Thanks. MJ’s got good taste.”
The phone is swiped again, and now it’s not just Gwen in the focus. Miles is there, too, leaning in to say something in her ear. He doesn’t remember what it was, but judging by her reaction in the photo, it was something hilarious.
“Awww,” someone coos. “Look at you two! You look so cute together!”
Miles feels a horrible void in his stomach, and he can’t tell if Gwen actually goes rigid next to him or if it’s just his imagination.
She gives a short laugh - nonchalant. The noise stings Miles’ ears.
“Yeah, it was fun,” Gwen says.
The phone makes another round of the group, and with every new picture, Miles feels more and more exposed. There aren’t any pictures of him and Gwen alone. Not really. Never the focus but always there, again and again in the background, orbiting each other all night long. No one comments on this, but that doesn’t mean they don’t notice.
Until they land on the next picture.
“Looks like you two had a good time last night,” Mr Edwards remarks with a grin, far too knowing.
Gwen’s head is rested against Miles’ shoulder, a smile resembling the sun. If Miles didn’t know the context himself, he would have sworn they were a regular couple.
“Yeah… you know… weddings, right?” Gwen laughs a beat too late. She tucks a portion of her hair behind her ear, voice pitched high. If the other teachers notice, they don’t say anything.
Miles notices. He notices everything about her. The way her weight shifts from one foot to the other. The way her eyes look everywhere but his direction. The way her fingers clutch the bottle of water like it’s the only thing tethering her to the planet. She may be able to hide when it’s just him, but when it’s surrounded by everyone else, there’s no way around it. Gwen is terrible at this.
“Oh, here’s another one!” Mrs Lau says. It’s a wide shot of the dance floor, and this catches them mid-dance. Miles remembers every word of the song. He can still feel her hand warm on his shoulder. Her laugh when he spun her too fast. They’re grinning like idiots.
“That’s a nice one,” someone says. No one calls them out this time.
And with that, the phone is passed along again, the conversation drifting to the cake, to the speeches, to how happy Pav and Gayatri are together. Miles nods and agrees with whatever is said, hoping not to draw any extra attention to himself.
Gwen lingers just long enough to make it seem like she isn’t avoiding him, then slips into a seat in the corner of the teachers’ lounge.
Miles takes the opportunity to retreat. He mutters something about needing to prep for his next class, and ducks out. No one stops him, and Gwen doesn’t look at him.
He can barely make it to his classroom. When he does, the door shuts with a soft click behind him. Miles doesn’t move right away. He just stands there, gripping the handle to keep himself on his feet.
It hits him like a wave, and he lets his forehead rest against the door. His breath comes out slow, shaky, scraping his throat on the way out.
“Get it together, man,” Miles says, but there’s no relief.
***
The final bell rang nearly half an hour ago, but Miles is still lingering in his classroom. The line up of kids asking him questions is now gone, so he’s left shuffling papers that don’t need organising. When a knock comes at the door, it startles him more than it should.
“Hey,” Gwen says, peeking her head in. “Good time?”
“Yeah, great time,” Miles says, trying to prevent any eagerness in his voice. He gestures to the desk closest to his. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” Gwen says. She closes the door behind her when she enters. “So…” she drags out, tapping her hands against her legs as she walks slowly.
“So…” Miles echoes, eyes darting down. She’s changed back into the clothes he gave her. It makes him smile a lot more than it should. “How was your day?”
“Good,” Gwen says. She looks around the classroom before taking a seat. “I uh… think people liked my outfit.”
Miles raises his eyebrows. “Liked it? Do you think anyone noticed it was mine?”
“I don’t think so,” Gwen says. “I mean, no one said anything. And even if they thought I, well, ‘spent the night somewhere’,” she says with air quotes. “They have no way of knowing it was with you. I got a few looks from kids, but I don’t think anyone’s connecting the dots.”
“Good,” Miles sighs. “So we got away with it.”
“Looks like it,” Gwen says, though her voice wavers just enough for him to notice. She fiddles with her sleeve, then looks up. “You are good with what I said earlier, right?”
No.
He wants to be okay with it, but he doesn’t know if he can do that; stay friends and hook up and pretend like everything is the same. It hasn’t even been a day since the wedding and it hurts just looking at her. How much longer can they go at this? A few months? A few weeks? Days? Hours? What if their friendship is just doomed and running on fumes? Gwen doesn’t want to date because she thinks it won’t end well. Miles is fine with that. It hurts, but if that’s what she wants, he’ll go with it. But at the same time, he doesn’t think this can work for him.
Miles forces a grin. “Yeah. I mean, you’re right. It’s probably the only way this thing doesn’t blow up in our faces. I just want to stay friends.”
It has to work for him. Somehow he’ll find a way it can work. It may not happen right away, but someday he’ll be able to look at Gwen the same way he used to. If it means staying friends with her, Miles will find a way to do that. Even if it means pretending he’s okay when he’s not.
“Me too,” she says quietly. “And we get to… you know… have fun.”
Miles blushes a little and says, “I like having fun with you.”
“Careful, Mr Morales,” Gwen smiles sweetly. “We’re still in a school. We have to be professional while we’re here.”
“Right,” he says. There’s a beat. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
“Wowwwww,” Gwen says, exaggerating. “You do know what professional means, right?”
“I don’t know, I’m not an English teacher,” Miles jokes. Gwen laughs at that, and it gives him literal butterflies in his stomach. There’s the normal he’s been searching for all day. Maybe this really can work. “I know you have to pick up your dress and stuff from my place. But… maybe we could hang out. Watch a movie, or whatever.”
Gwen leans back in the chair, crossing her arms with a devious grin spreading to her face. “Are we actually going to watch a movie? Or does it end up,” she gestures vaguely. “Playing in the background?”
Miles refuses to turn even more red than he already is. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Hmm. So, should I come prepared? Like… phone charger, toothbrush, change of clothes?”
“Are you planning on staying the night again?”
Gwen tilts her head, pretending to think. “Well… I did sleep great last night.”
“Same,” Miles laughs softly. He looks down at his desk, drumming his fingers against it before adding quietly, “Not wearing clothes probably helped with that.”
Gwen’s cheeks flush. “Miles!”
“I’m just saying, there might be something to it.”
She bites back a laugh, then stands up. “You’re the science teacher. I’ll let you test that theory.”
Miles pushes himself to his feet, grabbing the strap of his bag. “I think we’d better get out of here before someone hears us being unprofessional.”
“Lead the way, Mr Morales.”