Begin Again

epilogue

"IS THAT THE last box?"

I turn to Miles, who is carrying, what I hope to be, the last cardboard box of his belongings. My hair is practically matted to my forehead from the stale hot air California offers, and I desperately need a shower and some ice water.

Miles nods, slowly putting down the box onto the hardwood floor. I sigh in relief, walking over and collapsing onto his couch that we'd spent two hours carrying up the stairs of his new apartment yesterday.

Miles laughs, lifting the baseball cap he's wearing to casually wipe away a sheen of sweat before placing it back onto his head.

He had shaved off his hair almost a week ago, leaving him with a buzzed look that is still taking me some time to get used to, though he still looks gorgeous.

"You hungry?" he asks, shuffling over to his kitchen after I give him a nod. It's weird being in this apartment and realizing it's where Miles will live for quite some time.

Just like he'd planned, Miles had spent the last six months in New York with me, and it had been a glorious six months.

I had graduated from NYU, and Talia had graduated from Columbia, both of our ceremonies falling within the same week in May.

It had been sad crossing the stage without Veronica, and it had been equally sad bidding farewell to her at the airport. It's been about four months since she's been living in Paris, and from all of the group FaceTime calls, it seems like she's enjoying herself. Talia and I plan to visit sometime next month, and we're all counting down the days until our trip.

It has also been bittersweet, knowing I'm completely done with school for the rest of my life, but also a relief. I'm finally a working adult—a scary but rewarding feeling.

Unfortunately, my internship with The New York Times had only lasted for the allotted time, though it was probably the best internship I'd had in my entire four years of college. I was a bit bummed that I hadn't been offered a more permanent position, but I know something else will eventually come along that will be even better if possible.

For now, though, I'd offered to come with Miles to Los Angeles to help him settle into his new place.

It's a beautiful apartment, making me jealous of my place back in New York.

The living room is pretty spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen is relatively modern, with a marble countertop and stainless steel appliances.

Since Miles had been saving up, working a few gigs while still on the East Coast, he'd managed to scrounge his money together for a two-bedroom, claiming the second would become his at-home studio.

I am incredibly proud of him, and I'm so excited to see what his career will be like now that he is signed to Republic Records and living in a city that will only further showcase his unbelievable talents.

"Found anything yet?" I call out to him, feeling my phone buzz from my pocket. Looking down, I notice a few texts from Talia and Veronica asking me how Los Angeles is and if I've spotted Ryan Gosling yet. Smirking to myself, I send them back a sad face, promising that if I do, they'll be the first to know.

"No," Miles responds, slamming his fridge door closed. "There's only an orange, ketchup, and half an onion. Let's hit up the grocery store tomorrow. How long are you here again?"

Averting my gaze from my phone, I watch Miles walk over before collapsing on the spot next to me.

"A week, why? Trying to get rid of me so you can hook up with some blonde surfer chick?" I tease. Miles wrinkles his nose, a hint of amusement in his green eyes.