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A barrage of text messages causes Miles’s phone to cut through the silence, and Gabby turns to him from where they’re seated next to each other at the front desk.

“No fucking way,” Miles says, when he sees what his university friend has sent him.

Gabby says, “You really shouldn’t talk like that, in case there are guests.”

He glances around at the sheer quietness of the lobby. It’s a slow morning at the reception, which isn’t a good sign considering what Miles learned from his mother the day before. He then turns to Gabby. They share a long look, let a few seconds pass, and then they both wheeze as if she’s just made the world’s funniest joke.

“Guests,” she chuckles under her breath, turning back to the computer she’s working on.

Miles opens up the articles his friend sent him. The titles make his stomach sink: “Cloverlily’s Official Accounts Announce Band’s Break-up,” “Cloverlily, Breaking Up Right When They’re At The Top: What Went Wrong?,” “What Happens Now With Cloverlily?”

“Nooooo,” he groans. “No, no, nooo.”

“What?” Gabby asks.

He shows her his screen. “I didn’t think it was actually happening.”

“Hm. Must be why Calvin’s here, then. He did look like he’s going through something.”

Frowning, Miles clicks on the first link his friend sent him. Apparently, the band’s accounts announced it this morning, barely an hour ago. “Or he’s really just that withdrawn,” he mutters. “He’s not very approachable. Which is fine. To each his own.”

“Maybe he finds you too loud.”

“ You are loud, and he lets you sit with him.”

Gabby throws her head back and laughs. “Geez, we’re friendly because we hung out a bit last time he was in town.”

“Betrayal. I still can’t believe you never told me this.”

“Like I said, it’s because I knew you’d sulk… which is exactly what you’re doing. Anyway, I’m sure he’s not in a great state for socializing with what’s happening to his band. Also, you yelled his name when he was clearly trying to lie low. You can’t blame him.”

…Touché. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“He’s not so bad. For a very private person, he never turns anyone down when asked for selfies. Last time he was here with his family, he was… a lot more approachable. I’m sure he still is, and yesterday was a bad day. I can see why, with these announcements. You know he even played a few songs at the bonfire last time? ”

Seriously? And when Miles suggested that idea to him yesterday, he only looked at Miles like he was being ridiculous?

“Why does it seem like you’re convincing me to talk to him again? I’m sure he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I think you two will hit it off, honestly. He knows you did their first album cover, and he likes art. You like his music. “

“Sure,” he says dryly. If anything, Calvin’s probably already looking up how to file a restraining order. Miles needs to back off completely, and that’s what he’s going to do.

Miles then proceeds to rant to Gabby about how he attempted to sketch the lake that morning, but came up with nothing. It’s not until he’s a minute into his very not-fascinating vent that he realizes that she’s not listening. Instead, she seems very focused on the computer screen.

“What are you even doing?” He rolls his chair next to her.

“Studying.”

“For what?”

Gabby doesn’t take her eyes off the screen. “I’m taking a short course on Hotel Management. The certification will be useful.”

Surprised, Miles sits up straighter. “Why, though? You already know most of these things.”

“Well. It’s nice to have it on my resume, especially if I want to apply for a managerial position somewhere else. Look. I know the inn’s not in a great state, and it’s… yeah. Well. Besides, I can’t be a receptionist forever. The city has a lot of hotels I can apply to.”

Miles frowns, and when Gabby turns to him, he reminds himself to rearrange his face. Too late, though .

“You understand why I have to do this, right?”

“Yes,” he says. “Of course.”

She studies his expression for a moment too long, and he has the sudden urge to leave. Miles checks his watch—nine thirty a.m.

“I’m heading to the bank,” he announces.

“Why?”

“Paying off the inn’s loans with my savings. Talked to my mom about it last night, and after the most exhausting argument, she finally agreed to let me do it.”

It’s not a sustainable set-up, though, and he agreed with Mom when she said that. If the inn’s going to keep running, they can’t rely on his savings.

“Can you pass by Matthew’s?” Gabby asks. “I was going to send someone else, but if you’re going, might as well pick up the boxes for the cafe.”

“…Uh.”

“Will that be okay?”

“Yeah. Sure, no problem.”

Matthew, his ex-boyfriend. He hasn’t seen him in a while, and even if they weren’t one of those exes who couldn’t stand each other, he’s sure it’ll still be awkward. Gabby talks about him sometimes, and she did mention he’s seeing someone from their old school. He never actually asked who. The cafe he owned downtown, Brown Sugar, supplied baked goods for their inn’s booth cafe. That was the set-up they had, since it was easier than hiring a pastry chef. The inn’s staff regularly drove downtown to get boxes from Brown Sugar, and on some days, Matthew himself delivered them himself .

“Thanks,” Gabby says. “He’s got six boxes ready for pickup.”

Miles goes through the articles about the band’s break-up as he’s walking to his car.

The actual announcement from their official accounts is vague, saying they’ve decided, as a group, to go their separate ways. They’re going to perform at their remaining gigs, and a farewell concert is in the works.

There were rumors about it for months, but he didn’t think it was actually going to happen.

Sighing, Miles leans against the door of his car and scrolls through social media. The band’s trending, and there’s a photo going around from when the band just started. They’re younger, a bit more boyish, even if it was only five years ago.

Theo Reid, their charismatic lead singer, is holding their debut album up. He has an arm around Calvin’s shoulder, who’s smiling rather awkwardly at the camera. Then there’s Chase Manning, the band’s handsome bassist who has a reputation for being hot-headed. Lastly, laid-back drummer Gil Ramos has his head cocked to the side as he smirks at the camera.

Miles’s artwork is on the album cover. It’s a painting of all four band members in a garage, at the angle of a bird’s-eye view, like most of Miles’s paintings. The garage is messy and the band’s playing on their instruments, with Theo holding a mic. The colors are vibrant and there are a lot of details in it, down to a highschool yearbook that’s laying on the floor. Miles had based it off a bunch of photos their management had sent him.

He reads through the other posts. There’s a lot of speculation on social media about what’s happened. Some say it was Theo’s decision to go on a solo career, while others say it’s because of Chase’s hot-headedness. There’s even a comment about how Theo and Calvin must have broken up. The rumor that the two are boyfriends trends a lot, but has never been confirmed. Miles has always assumed it was just the fans putting more meaning into things, because if they have been together all these years, they probably would have confirmed it by now. Five years is a long time to hide a relationship.

“Damn it.” He was excited for more songs from them, like he always was. Deciding that he’s punished himself enough, Miles puts his phone away.

Maybe Gabby was right, though. The timing of Calvin’s stay in their inn matched perfectly with the band’s announcement. It’s no secret that Calvin’s a private person, and he can see why he chose a quiet town like Ridgeford to unwind in.

Well, fuck. Having someone from the inn he’s retreating to badgering him like Miles did must have sucked. Miles grimaces at himself—that’s not going to happen again. He’s definitely going to back off now, maybe go in the opposite direction the next time he sees him.

***

Miles halts at a red light and there’s a small group of teenagers on the curb, bouncing on their feet and circling around someone. Miles squints, wondering if it’s a celebrity, and…

Yeah. That’s Calvin, with his sunglasses on and pulling his ball cap down, as if that would help him out at this point.

His lips are a flat line and he nods as the teenagers ask for one selfie after another. Across the street, several other people are pointing at Calvin. He’s drawing a small crowd. Miles’s window is open so he can hear how they fuss over him, and someone asks if the other band members are in town, too. His car’s so close to them that Calvin would see him if he weren’t so preoccupied.

Miles knows how this is going to go. They’ve had a few celebrities stay at the inn before. After the first person braves it and asks for a photo, more people will notice, and then the celebrity will soon have a hard time shaking them off. Calvin’s alone, and Gabby did say he never turns people down—Miles can already tell he’s going to be here for a long while.

Poor guy doesn’t deserve this, especially on this day. For a moment, Miles debates helping him out. He can get his attention and ask if he wants a ride.

The light turns green and Miles decides against it, because this really isn’t any of his business.

Still, there’s a nagging voice in his head, and it sounds a lot like Gabby telling him that Calvin’s not that bad. That he should turn around and offer him help, because he doesn’t deserve to be crowded like this on what could be the worst day of his life.

Miles crosses the intersection and looks at the dashboard mirror only to see a family joining in on the crowd.

Fuck. Fuck.

He should at least offer him a ride, even if only to make up for yesterday’s mishap .

Miles takes a moment to recompose himself, then makes a u-turn. Then he drives back toward Calvin’s direction, slowing down as he approaches the small crowd.

“Calvin!” he calls, putting on the most forced and widest smile he can muster.

Calvin doesn’t turn to him, his voice drowned out by everything else. Okay. That’s probably his sign to give up, but he’s already here, so might as well push it. Besides, Calvin seems like he’s in actual pain by how one of his fans tug at his arm.

Miles says, louder, “Hey, Calvin!”

Finally, Calvin’s attention snaps to Miles. Their eyes meet and he stiffens.

“Want a ride?” Miles asks.

“Ah, hi,” Calvin says, curtly, which is such a non-answer that Miles doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Miles. From the inn.”

“Yeah… I know.”

There’s another phone in his face, and he smiles at it as a teenager takes a photo.

Miles waits, letting the awkwardness seep in as Calvin looks at him again with a somewhat desperate expression. He can practically see the cogs turning in Calvin’s brain as he shifts his attention at the crowd, then at Miles, then back again. It hurts Miles’s pride, just slightly. He’s acting like he has to choose between a rock and a very hard place.

“Excuse me.” Gently, Calvin takes the hand off his arm.

There are disappointed looks all around and one more person forces a final selfie from him, then Calvin circles around the car and gets into Miles’s passenger seat. Miles gets a whiff of vanilla, and it catches him completely off-guard.

Calvin murmurs, “Thank you. You can… drop me off maybe two blocks away, whichever direction you’re going.”

“Did you bring your car?” He steps on the gas.

“No, I walked here.” He takes his sunglasses off and hangs them on his collar.

“I can drop you off at the inn.”

“Thank you. Sorry for the trouble. I didn’t think anyone would recognize me.” Calvin takes his cap off, then runs a hand through his hair.

“Of course someone would recognize you,” Miles says, laughing.

“You didn’t.”

He stops laughing.

“Where’d you come from?” Calvin asks.

“Oh, well.” Anxiously, he taps on the steering wheel. “I was heading to the bank, actually.”

“Isn’t that the other direction?”

“Yeah.”

Calvin meets his stare in the rear-view mirror, and it sends a chill down Miles’s spine, but he takes it as a personal challenge not to glance away. He has nice brown eyes and thick lashes, and Miles would appreciate them more if he didn’t look so pissed off.

“Did you turn your car around for me?” Calvin asks.

No point in lying, really. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”

He takes a deep breath. “Here’s fine. I’ll walk. ”

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“For fuck’s sake. Stop the car, Miles.”

“Okay, okay.” Having someone from Cloverlily actually remember his name would be a feat, but the frustrated way Calvin says it is truly a punch to the gut. A somewhat hysterical laugh bubbles out of Miles as he pulls over.

“What’s so funny?”

He shrugs, forcing down another laugh. “It’s not everyday I offer to do something nice for someone and they get angry at me for it. Is this about me shouting your name in the lobby? That was a mistake. You know I wasn’t trying to piss you off on purpose, right?”

Calvin stiffens. His hand freezes above the seat belt buckle, and for a moment he doesn’t say anything. Then he drops his hand back to his lap, and he sighs, leaning back against the seat. “No, it’s not about that. Sorry. I’m being an ass.”

“Not at all,” he lies. He’s not sure what to do next. Miles waits to see if Calvin will actually leave.

“Bad day. Weeks, actually. I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” Miles smiles, and unexpectedly, Calvin returns it, even if weakly. And that’s… new. He feels as if someone’s rear-ended his car, and Miles takes a moment to recompose himself. He clears his throat and says, “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Miles. My family owns the inn you’re staying in, and I painted your first album cover.”

That earns him a chuckle, even if it’s a very quiet one. “Calvin,” he says, simply. “How about I go with you to the bank? That way, you don’t have to drive all the way back.”

Oh ?

Miles blinks. “It’s seriously no problem.”

“I don’t want to go back so soon, anyway. It’s my fault. I should’ve driven my car. Do you mind if I tag along with you?”

Miles realizes, surprisingly, that he doesn’t mind at all. So much for his grand plan of backing off. “I need to go to Brown Sugar, too. It’s a cafe downtown. Need to pick up some stuff for the inn.”

“Sure.”

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

Silence.

“Do you want me to drive?” Calvin asks. He smiles, and again Miles forgets how to act.

“No,” he says, face heating.

Miles is checking his side-mirror when Calvin shifts and reaches under his leg, and pulls out a pair of socks—one white, one gray. Calvin raises his eyebrows.

“Sorry!” Miles grabs them and tosses them to the back, his face heating again. In his defense, he didn’t think he’d have to tidy up his car for this today. “My mom’s.”

“Your mom wears mismatched men’s socks.”

“Yes, she thinks they’re rather comfy.”

Calvin laughs. He does this funny thing when he laughs, where he covers his mouth with the back of his hand, and it’s kind-of cute. Miles wishes he could unsee it.