By the Book

Chapter Ten: Starting Again

The silence that fell between us was surprisingly easy, the kind of quiet that didn't demand to be filled. I returned to my book, letting the familiar rhythm of Austen's words pull me in, though I couldn't quite shake the awareness of Miles across from me.

I turned a page, letting my eyes follow the delicate swoop of the letters on the aged paper, but every so often, I found my gaze flicking upward—catching glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't reading or even pretending to be busy; instead, he sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, his expression thoughtful as his eyes wandered.

Once, I caught him glancing my way, his hazel gaze warm and lingering for just a beat too long before he shifted it to something across the room. I swallowed and dropped my gaze back to the book, focusing on the familiar lines.

A few moments later, I glanced up again, only to find him watching me with a faint smile that he didn't bother to hide this time. My heart gave a small, unexpected flutter, and I quickly looked back down at the page, my cheeks warming despite myself.

The minutes passed in this rhythm—me pretending not to notice when his gaze landed on me, and him making no effort to hide the fact that he was stealing glances. There was something disarming about it, the way he seemed so at ease, as if this quiet moment was as much for him as it was for me.

Finally, I closed the book with a soft thud, setting it gently on the table. Miles straightened slightly, watching as I stretched my arms and glanced toward the window, the storm still raging outside.

"It's getting late," I said softly, though I didn't make any immediate move to leave.

Miles nodded, his gaze steady as he waited. "That storm's not letting up anytime soon."

I nodded slowly, looking at the rows of shelves. I stretched my legs out, standing slowly from the comfortable chair. "I might as well look around—I mean, if you don't mind."

He waved his hand toward the shelves. "Help yourself. Looking for anything in particular?"

"Just looking," I said, picking up a book nearby before sliding it back on the shelf. "Maybe I'll find something for my book club."

Miles's eyebrows shot up, and a grin broke across his face. "You're in a book club? Now that's a curveball."

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, standing from the chair and strolling toward me, "you keep finding ways to surprise me."

"Surprise you how?" I asked, shifting to another shelf and running my fingers along the spines of a row of books.

He shrugged casually, but there was a glint of humor in his hazel eyes. "I don't know... Student council president I expected. But head cheerleader?" His grin widened. "That one threw me."

I froze, heat creeping up my neck. I turned toward him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. "You heard that?"

He leaned against the edge of a shelf, crossing his arms. "Hard not to. Ben wasn't exactly being subtle when he shouted it in the café last week."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands for a moment before peeking at him through my fingers. "He's a menace. Don't encourage him."

Miles chuckled, the sound soft and unhurried. "I'm not judging. It's... unexpected, sure, but not in a bad way."

"Great," I muttered, sliding a book off the shelf and pretending to inspect it. "Now I'm the financial analyst-slash-former cheerleader who's a walking contradiction."