Of course Miles liked her. They were friends. Good friends. Of course Miles liked her. They were friends. Good friends.
Luce chewed her lip. Now she was playing dumb with herself, which was never a good sign. The truth: Miles liked her. And she liked him, too. Look at the guy. With his ocean-blue eyes and the little chuckle he gave every time he broke into a smile. Plus, he was hands down the nicest person she had ever met.
But there was Daniel, and before him there'd been Daniel too, and Daniel again and again and--it was endlessly complicated.
"I'm botching this." Miles winced. "When all I really wanted to do was say goodnight."
She looked up at him and found that he was looking down at her. His hands came out of his pockets, found her hands, and clasped them in the space between their chests. He leaned down slowly, deliberately, giving Luce another chance to feel the spectacular night all around them.
She knew that Miles was going to kiss her. She knew she shouldn't let him. Because of Daniel, of course--but also because of what had happened when she'd kissed Trevor. Her rst kiss. The only kiss she'd ever had with anyone besides Daniel. Could being tied to Daniel be the reason Trevor died? What if the second she kissed Miles, he ... she couldn't even bear to think about it.
"Miles." She pressed him back. "You shouldn't do this. Kissing me is"--she swallowed--"dangerous."
He chuckled. Of course he would, because he didn't know anything about Trevor. "I think I'll take my chances."
She tried to pull back, but Miles had a way of making her feel good about almost everything. Even this. When his mouth came down on hers, she held her breath, waiting for the worst.
But nothing happened.
Miles lips were feather-soft, kissing her gently enough that he still felt like her good friend--but with just enough passion to prove there was more where this one came from. If she wanted it.
But even if there were no ames, no scorched skin, no death or destruction--and why weren't there?--the kiss was still supposed to feel wrong. For so long, all her lips had wanted were Daniel's lips, all the time. She used to dream about his kiss, his smile, his gorgeous violet eyes, his body holding hers. There was never supposed to be anyone else.
What if she'd been wrong about Daniel? What if she could be happier--or happy, period--with another guy?
Miles pulled away, looking happy and sad at the same time. "So, goodnight." He turned away, almost like he was going to bolt back toward his room. But then he turned back. And took her hand. "If you ever feel like things aren't working out, you know, with ..." He looked up at the sky. "I'm here. Just wanted you to know."
Luce nodded, already battling a rolling wave of confusion. Miles squeezed her hand, then took o in the other direction, bounding over the sloping shingled roof, back toward his side of the dorm.
Alone, she traced her lips where Miles's had just been. The next time she saw Daniel, would he be able to tell? Her head hurt from all the ups and downs of the day, and she wanted to crawl into bed. As she slipped back through the window into her room, she turned one last time to take in the view, to remember how everything had looked on the night when so many things had changed.
But instead of the stars and trees and crashing waves, Luce's eyes xed on something else behind one of the roof's many chimneys. Something white and billowing. An iridescent pair of wings.
Daniel. Crouched, only half hidden from view, just feet away from where she and Miles had kissed. His back was to her. His head was hanging.
"Daniel," she called out, feeling her voice catch on his name.
When he turned to face her, the drawn look on his face was one of absolute agony. As if Luce had just ripped his heart out. He bent his knees, unfurled his wings, and took o into the night.
A moment later, he looked like just another star in the sparkling black sky.
Chapter Sixteen
THREE DAYS
At breakfast the next morning, Luce could hardly eat anything.
It was the last day of classes before Shoreline dismissed the students for Thanksgiving break, and Luce was already feeling lonely. Loneliness in a crowd of people