Miles goes to pick up Aria

He pulls up to her house at seven on the dot, which feels right. Not early enough to seem eager, not late enough to start the night on the wrong foot.

He texts her from the driveway.

Miles: outside.

Her reply takes longer than Janice's would have.

Aria: come in. door's open.

He exhales, checks himself in the rearview mirror one more time, and gets out of the car.

The front door is indeed unlocked. He lets himself in and finds her dad in the living room, a broad shouldered man who looks at Miles with the measured expression of someone who has heard his daughter talk about this particular person more than once and has not yet decided what to make of it. They shake hands. The conversation is brief and functional, the kind that exists purely to establish that Miles is aware he is being assessed and is okay with that.

He is in the middle of answering a question about his plans after graduation when he hears movement from the hallway.

He turns around.

She is petite and dark haired, which he already knew, but tonight everything about her is turned up in a way that makes him feel like he has never quite seen her before. She is in a fitted red dress, short enough to make a statement and cut in a way that leaves very little to the imagination without quite crossing any line. Her dark hair is down, falling past her shoulders in loose waves, her eyes sharper than usual with whatever she has done to them tonight. She is the kind of small that takes up an entire room when she decides to. Tonight she has decided to.

She looks at him from the hallway with that familiar expression, the one that sits somewhere between challenge and amusement, and says nothing for a moment.

Aria: well. You actually dressed up.

Miles: you sound surprised.

Aria: a little. She looks him over with the unhurried thoroughness of someone who is going to form an opinion regardless of whether you want her to. You'll do.

Miles: He glances down at her dress and back up. So will you.

Something flickers in her expression. Not quite a smile but close enough.

Her dad clears his throat from the couch. Photos are produced, the same ritual as every household on this particular night. Aria submits to it with considerably less patience than the occasion calls for, repositioning herself after every shot, making comments about the lighting that her dad ignores completely. At one point she is standing close enough to Miles that he can feel the warmth off her and she glances up at him sideways with an expression that her dad cannot see from his angle.

When it is finally over she picks up a small bag from the hallway table and turns to her dad.

Aria: okay. We're going.

Aria's dad: eleven.

Aria: dad.

Aria's dad: he looks at Miles. Eleven thirty.

Miles: yes sir.

Aria makes a sound that is not quite agreement and heads for the door. Miles follows, and as he opens the passenger door for her she stops and looks up at him with an expression that is more unguarded than she usually allows in public.

Aria: for the record. You look really good tonight.

She gets in before he has a chance to enjoy it too much.

He closes the door, walks around to the driver's side, and sits there for a half second before starting the engine.

It is going to be a very interesting night.Sonnet 4.6