Coffee, Chat and no Towel

The kitchen is still damp and the towels are in a pile by the back door when Miles looks down at his shirt and realizes just how wet he actually got.

Miles: any chance you have something I can dry off with?

Maya: She laughs, a short genuine one. I was not kidding when I said I used every towel in the house. She gestures at the pile. That's all of them.

Miles: all of them.

Maya: every single one. She thinks for a moment. I can throw your clothes in the dryer. Won't take long. My dad has some stuff upstairs you can wear while you wait.

Miles: yeah. that works.

She leads him upstairs and points him toward the guest room where she has already pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from her dad's closet. She sets them on the bed and turns to leave, pulling the door halfway closed behind her.

She is almost down the hall when she stops.

She tells herself she is just checking he found everything. She looks back through the gap in the door. He has his back to her, shirt already off, reaching for the dry one on the bed. She stands there for a moment longer than she meant to. She had heard Janice talk about Miles long enough. She never realized what Janice was on about but now she could see it. Just about all of Miles. Miles turns slightly and catches her staring, she moves quickly away from the door and heads downstairs before he can catch her.

She is in the kitchen when he comes down, his damp clothes in his hand. She takes them without comment and puts them in the dryer. He turns around and she is standing in the kitchen doorway.

She has changed. A loose white top, thin enough that the color of her bra is visible through the fabric, a faint outline that she seems either unaware of or completely unconcerned about. Her hair is still slightly damp, pushed back from her face. She looks different from how she looks at school. Softer. More at ease in her own skin.

Maya: coffee?

Miles: please.

She brings back two mugs of coffee as she sits at a fair distance from him on the couch. She hands him his mug in front of him and sits across with her own, wrapping both hands around it.

They talk. Easily, as it turns out. About school, about the end of the year, about nothing particularly important. At some point the conversation finds a natural lull and they sit in it for a moment, comfortable enough not to **** it.

Then Miles chuckles quietly to himself.

Maya: what?

Miles: just something I noticed.

Maya: which was.

Miles: Janice was the only one who didn't get wet. At all.

Maya blinks and then laughs, a real one.

Maya: oh my god. you're right.

Miles: I'm not surprised either.

Maya: what's that supposed to mean.

He leans back on the couch.

Miles: She doesn't really do the getting her hands dirty thing. Which is probably also why she left the moment the actual cleaning up part started.

Maya presses her lips together trying to suppress a smile.

Maya: I cannot confirm or deny that.

Miles: you don't have to.

They settle into another easy silence. Then Maya sets her mug down and looks at him with a more direct expression, the lightness shifting into something more measured.

Maya: can I say something?

Miles: go ahead.

Maya: I know what you're doing. With Janice, with Aria.

He says nothing. She continues.

Maya: using her to make Janice jealous. It's actually a smart move.

She tilts her head slightly.

Maya: I kind of respect it.

He considers denying it for about half a second.

Miles: I don't know what you're talking about.

Maya: She gives him a flat look. Yes you do.

A beat. He exhales.

Miles: it's more complicated than that.

Maya: maybe. But that's part of it. She wraps her hands around her mug again. Did you ever think about using anyone else? For the same purpose?

Something in the way she asks it shifts the temperature of the room slightly.

Miles: what do you mean.

Maya: I mean what I said. Anyone else catch your eye for that particular strategy?

He looks at her for a moment.

Miles: I mean. If I was going to make Janice jealous I'd have to pick someone who could actually compete. Someone who lived up to her level.

Maya: and?

Miles: Aria made sense. Obviously.

Maya: and?

He holds her gaze.

Miles: and using her best friend would've been a pretty risky move.

Maya is quiet for a moment, turning her mug slowly in her hands.

Maya: yeah. If there's a girl you want to win over you probably don't flirt with her best friend right in front of her.

Miles: exactly.

The both chuckle in amusement

Maya: She nods slowly, then looks up at him. You'd rather do that when she's not around.

Miles: I mean, I'd rather do her when she's not around.

He starts to smile.

Then he notices her expression. She is not smiling. She is looking at him with a steady, unhurried gaze that makes it very clear she knows exactly what she just said and meant every word of it.

The dryer hums quietly from down the hall.

Neither of them says anything for a moment.