He stops Aria

Miles lets the moment sit for exactly one breath longer than he should. Long enough to be honest about it. Then he shifts his right hand on the wheel and moves it just slightly, not dramatic, not cold, just enough to close off the open invitation without making a scene of it.

Aria reads it immediately. She always does.

Her hand retreats back to her own lap without a word. She turns to face forward, tucking her hair behind one ear, and looks out through the windshield with the particular composure of someone who took a calculated risk and is processing the result quietly.

Neither of them says anything for a moment. The music fills the space without quite filling it.

"Not what you want," Aria says finally. It isn't a question.

"It's not that simple," Miles says.

"It kind of is though." Her tone is even, no edge to it. She isn't embarrassed. If anything she sounds like someone arriving at a conclusion they had already suspected. "You're still waiting on Janice."

Miles doesn't confirm or deny it. He doesn't really need to.

Aria nods slowly, more to herself than to him. She directs him through the last two turns without much commentary and when he pulls up in front of his house and puts the car in park she stays quiet for a moment, looking straight ahead.

Then she turns to face him one last time.

"I'm going to say something and I want you to actually hear it," she says. Not unkind. Not wounded either. Just direct in that particular way she has that makes it impossible to look away.

"Janice is stringing you along because you're letting her. And you're letting me chase you because I'm willing to. That whole arrangement works great right up until it doesn't." She tilts her head slightly. "Prom isn't far away, Miles. I'm not going to sit around holding a maybe while you wait on hers."

Miles holds her gaze. There isn't much to say to that, mostly because she isn't wrong.

"I hear you," he says.

Something in her expression softens, just slightly. Not hurt exactly. More like someone who came in hoping for one outcome and is making peace with another in real time.

"Good," she says simply.

He hands her the keys and gets out. She slides over into the driver's seat and he barely has the door closed before she pulls away from the curb, clean and unhesitating, no dramatic pause, no last look in the mirror. Just gone.

Miles stands at the end of his driveway for a moment, watching the white Civic disappear around the corner.

He pulls out his phone, not entirely sure why, and finds himself staring at it.

It buzzes.

One new message. Janice.

Hey. So I've been thinking. And my answer is yes. If you still want to go to prom together, I'd really like that.

Miles reads it twice. Then a third time.

He looks back up at the empty street where Aria's car had been thirty seconds ago.

Then back down at the message.