A / N

Yikes, it's been awhile, hasn't it? On the plus side, here's a full Miles x Darcy chapter. Updates for this book is temporarily once every five days (seven, if I'm delayed). The same goes for If The Shoe Fits, but on different days, if that makes sense. Do the math.

x Noelle

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

0 9

(aka the one where it's just dinner)

IT REALLY WAS.

Barely half an hour in, and I realized that there wasn't much else to it. As soon as we sat down for dinner, Miles was dragged into a lively discussion about Riverton's future. Blah-blah, Riverton's esteemed alumni, blah-blah, brilliant job prospects, blah-blah-blah. It was the first time I'd ever been to a dinner like this, and it surprised me to see how highly these board members thought of the college.

As an alumni of Riverton's rival college Linville, it was everything I could do not to roll my eyes. So what if you graduated from Riverton?

Big freaking whoop.

Nevertheless, I composed myself the best I could and focused on my food. I was in the midst of enjoying the third course when a sudden thought occurred to me. Beside me, Miles had just finished speaking with yet another guest. He returned to his plate and picked up his fork.

Quick as thought, my hand came up to cover his. "Don't eat that."

Miles froze.

I grabbed his plate over and swapped it with my plate of chicken from the second course. "Shellfish," I explained. "You're allergic."

He stared down at the plate and his voice was quiet when he spoke. "I can't believe you remember that."

"Why would I forget?"

He simply shook his head and resumed eating. "How's the food?" he asked at last.

"Good. Much better than the boring company, at least."

His eyebrows rose. "Should I be offended that I'm one of them?"

"No, of course not, I didn't mean you! You're anything but boring," I insisted, when he shot me a disbelieving look. "I meant them. Why is it that some people talk about nothing but their expensive houses and shiny cars and great careers?"

"What fascinating topic would you rather have us talk about then?"

Sarcasm was evident in his tone, and I deliberately ignored the fact that he'd referred to himself as one of them. I knew that he was anything but. He'd never bragged about anything either, even when there was plenty worth bragging about. Hell, I didn't even know where he stayed or what car he drove—except that the latter was black.

"I don't know." I shrugged, and added lamely, "Reality TV, perhaps."

"You're right. I can't imagine anything more fascinating than which celebrity had someone's baby and who's going through their third divorce."

"They are interesting! I mean, this might sound morbid, but you kind of feel better about yourself when you see someone else's life falling to pieces. Of course, you feel even worse about yourself when they're your age but rich and famous."

He shot me a sideway glance. "So your self-esteem is based on how well people our age are doing in their lives?"

"No! ...yes? Well, maybe a little..."

"It's not that much different from how other people are defined by their—and I quote—'expensive houses and shiny cars and great careers'."

"Touché." Our conversation reminded me very much of the ones we used to have. Miles had a far more mature way of thinking than any other boy I knew, and he had a knack of setting things into perspective for me. I smiled and propped my hand on my chin. "And you?"

He blinked. "What about me?"

"What defines your self-esteem?"

"Having heart-to-heart talks now, are we, Evers?"

I shrugged. "Merely curious."

He raised his glass to his lips and took a slow sip. "I guess my self-esteem is dependent on the people in my life," he started slowly. "Not celebrities who don't even know I exist, or material things I could have one day and lose the next. People whom I care about and care about me. If I think the world of them, then I'd want them to think the world of me, wouldn't I?"

Yes, you would, I thought. So would I.

I could only stare at him, swept away by how honest his answer was. I hadn't even realized it until then, but we were far closer than we'd been previously. Where before we had several inches separating us in our seats, I—or he?—had leaned close enough that our elbows brushed. The rest of the conversation at our table had been forgotten; so had our dinner.

Miles seemed to notice our proximity too, because he suddenly stiffened. He shifted away from me, but I didn't miss the faint blush on his cheeks as he looked back down at his food.

I picked up my fork again and nudged him. "So what's this dinner really for, anyway?" I asked, with a discreet nod towards the others at our table. "I can't follow half the things they're saying."

"Everyone's here to discuss the future of Riverton. It's been going downhill for awhile now—not that most of them will ever admit it. The university's standard has declined, fewer of its research are being published, and more of its graduates are unemployed due to the bad economy. They need new researchers, new professors of better standing, and new amenities to better teach their students. And all these won't happen without proper funding from firms willing to invest in them."

"Oh...that doesn't sound so complicated."

"It's not. That's why it's boring."

His remark took me by surprise. I'd known all along that he had a sense of humor, but I hadn't seen it surface since we met. I beamed at him, which seemed to take him aback because he quickly looked away.

"Is Hale & Co. one of the firms offering help to Riverton?" I asked, unable to stop my curiosity.

"What do you think?"

"No, it's not." The answer came to me just as swiftly, and I felt almost foolish for asking it. Given his bitter history with Riverton, Miles never would've spared his alma mater a second glance, unless... I looked at Miles, who had a slight quirk to his lips, albeit a bitter one. "They want Hale & Co.'s help."

"Yes. And were it not for my father—who's heading our way right now—I wouldn't even have considered it."

I followed the direction of his gaze. The last time I'd seen Miles's dad was at the huge grocers in the city. Now, however, he cut a tall, dignified figure as he made his way towards us.

I glanced at Miles, only to find that he'd straightened in his seat. Every inch of him seemed to be on alert. His eyes tracked his father almost warily, and his grip was tight around his fork. That stoic cutthroat CEO of Hale & Co. had disappeared and, in a flash, I saw him as the person he had once been: A young boy desperately eager for his father's approval, but who could never live up to his brother's legacy.

Acting on impulse, I reached over to cover his hand with mine. Miles flinched at the contact, then turned to look at me with wide eyes. I met his gaze squarely, daring him to pull away. For a second, I noticed his jaw tense. But then his fingers rose to intertwine with mine, and he held on fast as his father drew near.

He took a deep breath and turned in his seat. "Hi, dad."

"Son." His father acknowledged him with a simple nod. No hug, no handshake, no anything. I couldn't help compare his dad to mine, who lavished big hugs and smacking kisses on my cheek until I was red with the embarrassment of acknowledging him as my dad. "Good to have you here with us tonight. Whatever Hale & Co.'s decision may be, I'm sure the board appreciates your time."

Miles's fingers tensed around mine. "I didn't do it for them," he said, in a voice so low that I barely heard him at all.

I squeezed his hand and turned to his dad with a bright smile. "Hello, Mr Callaghan."

"Ah, yes, Ms Evers. It's been awhile since we last met. I trust you've been well?"

"Yes, thank you. And yourself?"

"Wonderful, now that I know you're still dating my son. Don't let this one go, you hear?" he said to Miles. "You've found yourself a keeper."

Miles simply nodded, as if he didn't trust himself to speak.

"Good." His dad smiled down at us. "And now that you're here, Ms Evers, I must extend an invitation to my retirement party. This college no longer needs a dean that old to keep the kids in line. I'm sure my son will be happy to escort you then."

I glanced at the man beside me, but he gave no indication as to whether he wanted me there at all. With a pleasant smile, I turned back to his dad. "I'll be there."

"Excellent. Ms Evers, son, enjoy your evening."

As soon as his dad left, Miles seemed to deflate. It was a subtle movement, one that I would've missed had I not been studying him. His shoulders hunched over and he looked down at his plate, a few locks of his hair tumbling into his eyes as he did. For a man who'd made himself out to be cold and ruthless, it was terrifying how much he wore his heart on his sleeve.

I gave his hand a squeeze. "Are you alright?"

His gaze darted up to meet mine—his eyes the grayish-blue of a storm, before he looked down at our interlocked fingers.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away.