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My fingers trace the wood grain patterns on the workbench and excitement bubbles inside me at all the possibilities available in a place like this.

“What do you think?” Miles asks, stepping over some scattered paintbrushes.

“I think—”I think I love it and that breaks my heart.“It’s a great space.”

“I agree.”

I look away clearing my throat. “This backspace has so many possibilities.”

Miles tilts his head. “What’s your perfect case scenario here, Camila?”

I hope my eyes aren’t betraying me with the way I’m looking at the room around me. “I guess, in a perfect world, I would use some of my investment banking contacts and potentially find someone interested in owning and opening an art studio. And I would work here, in this space with them.”

“Is that really your perfect world? Or is it a safe bet?”

I start to feel warm. Exposed. He knows I want this place for myself. I pick up a paintbrush and run the bristles along my palm, trying to slow my heartbeat. And all too quickly I’m reminded of the time I told my parents I was moving to California.

“And this is what you really want?” My mom’s intense eye contact had me shriveling back.

“Yes,” I squeaked.

She looked at my father with furrowed brows waiting for him to say something. He only stood there, with his hand under his chin, finger tapping his lip.

I twisted my hair so tightly around my finger, that the tip had started to turn blue. I spent months, YEARS, working hard in school so I could get into a good college. Every accolade, award, and achievement I brought home had my parents beaming. But the look on their faces when I told them I was moving across the country with my best friend, for school, had my stomach churning.

“I’ve told you. It’s too risky.” I throw thepaintbrush down on the table and head towards the front door.

It takes two steps for Miles to catch up to me with his long legs and I can feel my throat tightening as I try to shove down the tears threatening to escape.

His hand loops in the crook of my elbow but he doesn’t make a move. “Hey.” His voice echoes in my ear. I close my eyes, swallowing up the tears before I turn to face him. “I’m sorry. I can just see how excited you are about this space. And it fucking guts me to watch you wantanythingand not get it. But I’m sorry if I pushed you before you were ready.”

I do want it. Fuck, more than anything I wish I could just be able to voice all the things I want. When I look into his soft eyes I can see him battling something. And the realization steamrolls into me. I don’t feel exposed by him at all. I feel seen. I hesitate momentarily because I know he’s referring to my desire for this studio and he’s right. I do want this space. But I also want him. And for the first time, the fear of not getting the things I want feels far worse than failing to go after them.

“Miles, I?—”

“Ah! Ms. Sanchez, sorry about that. Were you able to get a look around?” I’m in a complete daze as I stare at the realtor whose name I’ve now forgotten. Thankfully, Miles extends his hand and introduces himself. And just like I am, the woman is completely captivated by him.

Camila

“Thank you again,Mandy, I’ll be in touch.” I wave to the real estate agent as she heads off down the street, leaving us outside the studio space.

I zone out looking at my shoes as if they are the most exciting thing in the world. “Should we um, call a car?” I ask.

“Wills is on his way, he should be here any minute.”

I kick an invisible rock and finally bring myself to look at him. His lazy smile is such a far cry from the grumpy scowl he usually wears. But it's his hungry eyes that cause my breath to hitch. “Good. Yeah, that's, that's good,” I stutter and go back to kicking invisible rocks.

I twistthe diamond around my finger, giving my nervous energy somewhere to go. Miles sits casually next to me in the back of the car, scrolling through emails on his phone.

“What are you thinking about?” His head drops back on the seat behind him. My eyes flicker from where his muscular legs are spread out in front of him to where the partition separates us from the front seat. “It's soundproof, he can't hear you.”

His hand covers mine where it was twisting my ring and I relax slightly at the touch. “I guess I’m thinking about what you said earlier. I’m trying to figure out what it all means. And maybe how I feel too,” I confess.

He waits for me to continue like he always does. The weight of his hand moves to my thigh as his finger spreads across my exposed skin.

“It’s not all in your head,” I whisper. “I don't regret what happened, either.” His grip on my thigh tightens as he audibly inhales. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we could really complicate our situation. So, what does this mean?”

“That’ll be something we’ll have to figure out together.” There’s that word again.Together.Like he’s thought about us more than he’s let on. “What I can tell you, is I’m not going to let you get away with hiding what you want anymore. You’ve been so busy trying to please everyone around you, and it’s cost you. I don’t think I need to tell you that I don’t care what anyone else thinks or wants. But you, Camila. What do you want?”