CHAPTER 19 #2
"Yeah," Miley said casually, though a subtle, complex flicker of something deep and emotional crossed her eyes for a split second before she masked it with a confident smile. "Like I told you, things have been crazy over there, but they’re finally settling down."
I let out a long, wistful sigh, looking down at my own simple canvas shoes before looking back up at her, my heart racing with a sudden, bold desire.
"Man... I wish I could get into a place like E-Tech, Miley. Seriously. I’ve been looking at their corporate profile for months.
The kind of innovation and strategy you guys do over there...
it’s exactly where I want to be. It feels like an entirely different world. "
Miley stopped walking, turning her body fully toward me. She looked at me for a long, silent moment, her dark eyes reading the genuine, unrefined ambition written across my face.
"You really want in?" Miley asked, her voice dropping into a serious, definitive tone.
"More than anything," I admitted softly, my voice filled with an honest, raw vulnerability. "But an entry-level position there is like trying to break into Fort Knox without a key."
Miley’s smile returned, bigger and more confident than before.
She stepped closer to me, her hand lightly resting on my forearm, sending a sudden, warm shockwave straight through my skin.
"Well, consider yourself lucky then, because you’re looking at the key.
I can put in a good word for you directly to the boss, Angela. Real talk."
I blinked, my mind struggling to process the words. "Wait... what? You’re serious?"
"Dead serious," Miley nodded, her eyes shining with a fierce, protective loyalty. "Me and the boss... we’re tight. Like, real tight. She respects my opinion, and she knows I don't vouch for just anybody. If I tell Helisa that you’ve got the mind for the strategy department, she’s gonna look at your resume herself. I got you, Angela. I promise."
"Oh my god!"
The sheer, ecstatic shock of her words shattered my usual physical restraint. Before I could even think about boundaries or professionalism, I threw my arms completely around Miley’s neck, pulling her body flush against mine in a fierce, desperate hug of pure gratitude.
The impact of our bodies brought us closer than we had ever been.
I could feel the hard, solid muscle of her shoulders beneath the navy blue blazer, the scent of her rich vanilla perfume filling my senses like an intoxicating drug.
My chest pressed firmly against hers, and for a fraction of a second, I felt the heavy, rapid thumping of her own heart against my ribs.
Miley let out a soft, surprised gasp as I squeezed her tight, but within a second, her arms came up around my waist, holding me back with a warm, steady pressure that made my entire body go completely soft in her embrace.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I whispered fiercely against the fabric of her shoulder, my eyes closing as I breathed her in, wishing I could stay locked in that perfect, secure circle forever.
"Hey, don't even worry about it, girl," Miley murmured softly near my ear, her breath hot and sweet against my neck as she gently patted my back. "I told you, I look out for the people I care about. Now let’s go walk this little monster before he starts stalking the birds."
We slowly pulled apart, both of our faces slightly flushed from the sudden intensity of the embrace.
I reached down to adjust the leash attached to Max’s harness, my fingers trembling with a wild, beautiful excitement as we turned onto the winding, sun-dappled stone path of the park, leaving the noise of the city behind us.
***
The path wound deeper into the heart of the park, where the concrete noise of Central Park West began to drown beneath the rustling canopy of ancient oak and elm trees.
The light here was softer, fractured into long, golden bars by the dense leaves above, casting a patterned shadow over the smooth stone beneath our feet.
Max trotted ahead on his leash, his nose glued to the edge of the grass, completely oblivious to the sudden, heavy shift in the air between Miley and me.
For a long time, the only sound was the rhythmic scraping of our shoes.
The ecstatic energy of the job offer still lingered like a warm hum in my chest, but as the trees closed in around us, a deeper, more vulnerable silence took its place.
I looked sideways at Miley. She had tucked the E-Tech folder into her leather bag, her fingers resting lightly on the strap, her profile sharp and thoughtful against the green backdrop.
"You know, Miley..." I began, my voice dropping into a quieter, more hesitant register.
I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling the raw exposure of what I was about to say.
"I don't really talk to a lot of people. Like, at all. Most days, it’s just me, my mom, and Max. My mom jokes that I’m a hermit, but the truth is...
I just don't vibe with people anymore like I’ve said before.
I mean, the thought of letting someone into my space gives me actual hives. "
Miley didn't interrupt. She simply shifted her gaze toward me, her dark eyes open, attentive, and completely devoid of judgment. She gave a slow, encouraging nod, signaling that she was listening, really listening.
"But with you, it’s different," I admitted, the honesty tearing from my throat before I could let my anxiety censor it.
"From the second you walked into my apartment, even when things were tense, I felt this...
this realness from you. You don't possess a single fake bone in your body.
And that is so incredibly rare to me, because the last person I trusted completely...
she turned out to be an absolute monster. "
"A monster?" Miley repeated softly, her cadence dropping into a grounded, protective tone. "What happened, Angela?"
A bitter, cold laugh escaped my lips, the memory tightening like a physical knot in my stomach.
"Megan. That was her name. We were inseparable for years.
I thought she was my sister, my absolute rock.
I shared things with her that I hadn't even told my own mother—my deepest insecurities, my fears, the things that kept me awake at 3:00 AM weeping into my pillow.
I thought I was building a fortress with a friend.
But Megan wasn't building anything. She was just taking inventory. "
I stopped walking for a brief second, my fingers gripping Max’s leather leash so tightly my knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white.
"She was a user, Miley. A master manipulator who wore the face of an angel.
The second she found a social circle that she deemed higher or more valuable than me, she used my vulnerability as currency to buy her way into their good graces.
She took every single private confession I ever made, every weakness I ever trusted her with, and she twisted them into weapons.
She spent months running a systematic smear campaign behind my back, using her slanderous tongue to tear my character to shreds. "
Miley let out a low, sharp breath, her jaw clenching visibly as she listened.
"The absolute cruelty of it was breathtaking," I continued, my voice cracking slightly as the old, buried grief threatened to break through my surface.
"She would sit on my couch, eat my food, hug me while I was crying, and then go straight to those people and laugh about how pathetic I was.
She painted me as this unstable, toxic person just to make herself look like the saint who was forced to deal with me.
By the time I realized what was happening, my entire reputation in that circle was completely incinerated.
She stabbed me in the back while smiling directly into my face.
It took me a year of therapy just to realize that the betrayal wasn't my fault—that some people are just black holes wrapped in human skin. "
Miley stepped closer to me, her shoulder lightly brushing against mine as we resumed walking. The physical contact was incredibly grounding, a warm anchor against the cold current of the memory.
"Man, that is foul on so many levels," Miley said, her voice rich with a deep, visceral disgust for what I had gone through. "There is a special place in hell for people who use someone’s trauma as a stepping stone. Real talk, Angela. I’ve seen women like that in Harlem, and I’ve seen them in the corporate suites at E-Tech.
They act like your sister, but they’re really just snakes waiting for you to look away so they can bite.
You didn't deserve that. But let me tell you something—that trash behavior says everything about her and absolutely nothing about you.
You carry yourself with real dignity, Angela.
Don't let a snake make you fear the whole garden. "
Hearing her say those words, with that fierce, unyielding certainty, felt like a soothing balm being poured directly over a raw, open burn. My eyes stung with a sudden wave of unshed tears, and I looked away, swallowing hard as a sweet, profound gratitude washed over me.
"I get it, though," Miley murmured after a long moment of silence, her tone shifting from anger into a heavy, somber cadence that instantly caught my attention.
She looked up at the graying sky, her dark eyes suddenly clouding over with a deep, haunting sorrow that seemed to age her ten years in a single second.
"I get why you keep your walls up. Because when you let people in, the stakes get incredibly high.
And sometimes, the ending isn't just a betrayal. Sometimes, it’s a tragedy that completely breaks your spirit. "
I looked at her, my heart slowing down to a heavy, empathetic thud. "Miley? What is it?"