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Gwen smelled like peaches.
He’d told her this once and she’d laughed so hard that he was worried she was going to split a rib. Once she’d pulled herself together, she wiped the summer-drops of tears from her cheeks and told him that he was the cheesiest person she knew. She also asked him if he’d ever sniffed anyone else-- what did everyone else in the world smell like, then? He told her didn’t know. He’d never been as close to anyone as he was with Gwen. That managed to shut her up. She wore her teasing smirk for the rest of the day, though.
When he woke up, there was an empty space where Gwen should be. He reached out and felt the pulse of her warmth, peach-scented. With the windows open, it practically assaulted him. Last night was a hot one.
Gwen said they needed the windows open during summer if they were going to cuddle. It didn’t bother Miles, but she always complained that they were sweating too much. He missed her sleepy elbows digging into his ribs, her disgruntled little whine as she pried them apart. He’d always wipe his palms on her hips, just to stress her out even more.
He stretched out lazily. Someone had already opened up the curtains, drenching the room in orange-sweet sunlight. The door was open, too. Gwen was never good at hiding; she always left a trail to exactly where she was.
Sliding from the bed, he stretched and found an old shirt somewhere. It had a small hole near the hip, which he fingered for a moment. His body was still house-cat lazy, a yawn trapped beneath his teeth. His head was delightfully fuzzy. After a coffee and some food, he’d be feeling too awake, his head spinning with thoughts. For now, there was just an old shirt, an open door, and Gwen… somewhere.
The living room was a work in progress. That’s what they told guests. There was a couch, with no TV, which Gwen said was ultra-retro of them. There was a rug that Gwen had found in some thrift shop, a pastel tie-dye affair that made the room look brighter. She’d brought it home with such a wild grin on her face, eyes alive in a way he’d never seen on anyone else before. Even if he hated it, he would have said yes.
He would have said yes to anything she wanted.
The bathroom door was closed and the kitchen was empty. He spotted her shoes near the window, the ones that led out onto the fire escape. It was crooked open just enough to spill warm air into the apartment. They’d have to turn the AC on later. He could hear the soft thrum of Gwen’s voice, light and airy, a wind that carried him towards the window. He cracked it open a little wider and crawled out onto the fire escape.
New York was just beginning to wake up around them. Down the alleyway, he could hear the sleepy roar of engines, spluttering softly to life. There was a soft shout and Miles knew that the guy who sold newspapers on their front step was already awake, doing his duty. Gwen’s forearms rested against the metal barrier of the fire escape, accentuating the curve of her spine, the round plushness of her hips. Her phone was in her hand and she was speaking lowly, discussing her week with her dad. He liked Mr. Stacey. The guy had given him the world’s worst cold shoulder when he’d first started dating Gwen, but they'd warmed up to each other, eventually. He had an easy laugh and looked at Gwen like she hung the moon in the sky.
Miles looked at her the same way. They could bond over that.
She glanced at him, her brow rising gently into her hairline, a silent question: Need me to hang up?
Miles shook his head. Instead, he sat down on the steps leading upwards, letting his legs stretch out in front of them. It was such a small space that they ended up brushing lightly against Gwen’s feet. She reached out, knocking her bare feet against his ankle, an easy sort of intimacy that made his heart burn.
“Miles is here,” Gwen said, into the speaker. “Say hi to Miles.”
“Hi, Miles,” her dad intoned. “Hey, I bought that magazine that had some of your art in it. It was really good. I liked the, uh, the comic, about the spider?”
Miles flushed pleasantly. Impressing Mr Stacey was a chief concern of his, one that usually caused Gwen to roll her eyes at him. Like she was doing right now. “The Adventures of the Living Spider. Thank you, Mr Stacy. I’ve been trying to get more narrative work published. I hope I can break into the comic book community that way.”
“You can do whatever you put your mind to, Miles. I really believe that.”
“He really does,” Gwen said, cutting her eyes over to Miles. She had a teasing touch of spring in them, all growing flowers and bleeding pollen. “He hasn’t stopped talking about it. I think he called me just to talk about you.”
Miles’ cheeks went an even deeper red, his head tilting to the side so that his dopey smile wasn’t pointed right at Gwen. “Jeez,” he said, around a laugh. “Thank you, Mr Stacy.”
There was a small silence that told them both that Mr Stacy was just as flustered. “I haven’t just talked about him,” he said, eventually.
“Uh-huh,” Gwen said. “We should probably get breakfast started. And you need to get started on work.”
“Uh-huh,” her dad hummed. Miles knew that he was nodding his head. “Love you, kid. Hey, Miles, love you, too.”
“Love you,” they both chimed, before Gwen hung up. She was laughing as she did so, letting her gaze fall fully and sweetly on Miles. He loved that look in her eyes. He loved everyone look in her eyes, really, but that one was particularly special.
“My dad likes you more than me,” Gwen said. Miles stood to his full height, stretching out limbs that had spent too many years being kept cramped.
“He does not,” Miles said, shaking his head. “He’s just trying to be nice. He thinks I’m a dork.”
“You are a dork,” Gwen laughed. The two of them gravitated towards each other, letting the sleepy street spread out beneath them. Her foot lingered behind her, a drag behind her steps. His arms found her, gently wrapping around her back. Without hesitation, her head found his shoulder, letting her body sink into his.
“I woke up alone," Miles said.
“Sorry,” Gwen murmured, though it was muffled by his shoulder. “Won’t happen tomorrow. I promise. I just didn’t think you’d want me calling my dad from the bed. I have a strict policy that means I keep him thoroughly out of our space.”
“Mhm,” Miles nodded. “Gross.”
“Totally gross,” she agreed, squeezing him tighter. “Come on. Let’s get breakfast.”
“One more minute,” Miles murmured, and Gwen relented, standing with him for as long as he needed.