Chapter 18 Big Fan Of Momentum #2
Miles stands at the end of his driveway, one eyebrow lifted, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
“Hi,” I blurt, far too loudly.
He laughs softly. “Hey. You okay? You kind of… sped past me.”
“Yep.” The answer comes out too fast. “Totally fine. Very normal driving behavior. Big fan of… momentum.”
His smile widens, confusion melting into amusement. “Good to know.”
I take a breath, trying to rein myself in. “I was just at Eve’s, and then I realized I was nearby. Then I saw you and couldn’t decide if I should stop, which—looking back—was unnecessary.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I gathered.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and a nervous laugh slips out. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you something.”
His expression softens instantly. “Okay.”
My heart thumps. “I got a podcast request. For OneDate.”
His entire face lights up. “Nora, that’s huge!” Genuine pride threads through every word.
The knot in my stomach loosens. “Yeah,” I breathe. “I kind of freaked out.”
“Congratulations. That’s incredible. I’m really proud of you.”
I smile, warmth spreading through me. My nerves are still buzzing—but in a good way. And suddenly, nearly crashing my car feels worth it, because I told him. And this isn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.
I shift my weight and glance at the open hatch of his SUV. “So… where are you headed?”
He follows my gaze, then shrugs. “Up the North Shore. I’ve got a client who wants some springtime drone footage for their website.”
“Sounds fun. Where exactly?”
“Black Beach.”
“Oh.” I tilt my head. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never actually been.”
He hesitates—just for a beat. “You could come with. If you want.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out casual, but there’s something hopeful underneath. “Company’s allowed. Encouraged even. And I’ve got snacks.”
The snacks seal it, though the company isn’t exactly a hard sell either. “Okay,” I say before I can overthink it. “Yes.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re heading north, the road unspooling ahead of us.
The city thins out, trees crowd in, and Lake Superior stretches alongside us—endless and steel blue.
The drive passes quickly. We talk about the podcast and the kinds of questions they might ask.
We argue about playlists. His is an eclectic mix of bluegrass, folk, and Americana while mine stands firmly with modern punk.
He points out which clouds make for the best footage.
I inform him that cilantro tastes like soap and shouldn’t be trusted.
When we pull into the overlook at Black Beach, the air is crisp as the breeze carries the rich scent of pine through the rolled-down windows.
Fresh blooms push through the thawing ground while green leaves unfurl from their buds.
The sun is warm on my skin even though there’s still a lingering bite to the air that hasn’t quite let go of winter.
The waves lap against glittering black pebbles that look unreal, as if someone poured them there on purpose.
I turn toward him. “Why is the beach black? I know that happens in Hawaii, but Minnesota?”
“Are you asking me to deploy one of my random facts?”
A laugh slips out. “This is absolutely the appropriate time for random facts. Unless you don’t know.” I fake a gasp and nudge him with my elbow.
He lifts one eyebrow. “I could tell you facts you didn’t even know existed.”
“I believe you, but let’s start with the basics.”
A small smile forms on his lips. “Up until the seventies, a mining company used this beach as a taconite tailings dumping site.”
“Wow.” I blink, looking back toward the shoreline. “I had no idea.” So they really were put here on purpose.
Miles parks and hops out, immediately slipping into work mode, flipping open the drone case and checking batteries. “This place always does something to people.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Just… wait.”
I drift closer to the water’s edge, watching the waves roll in, feeling small in the best way.
I fish a Fireball candy from my pocket and pop it into my mouth.
Behind me, the drone lifts with a soft whir, rising into the sky.
Miles’s focus sharpens, hands steady on the controls.
When he’s working, his confidence clicks into place.
If he could tap into this version of himself all the time, dating wouldn’t even register as a problem.
The drone glides across the horseshoe bay as he captures his shots, but instead of watching it, I find myself watching him.
Over the next couple of hours, I smile at Miles as he flies his drone around the bay, shooting different angles and speeds.
Once he’s finished, he steers the drone back onto the ground beside him. “That should do it. My client’s going to love this.” He powers it down, latches the case shut, and exhales like he’s clocking out of a good day’s work.
When he returns from the parking lot, we wander down the beach and settle onto a stretch of flat black stones, the lake extending endlessly before us.
The gentle lapping of the water over the shore is the kind of sound that quiets your brain whether you ask it to or not.
We’re facing east, so we don’t get a dramatic sunset.
Instead, the light fades gradually, the sky shifting from blue to gray to that soft in-between shade.
A cool breeze sneaks under my sweatshirt, and I hug my arms around myself. Without thinking, I scoot closer and hook my arm through Miles’s.
He glances down. “You cold?”
I open my mouth to answer, but he’s already slipping his arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. Warmth blooms instantly, physical and… something else.
I look up at him. “That was smooth.”
He stiffens, just a fraction. “Oh. Uh. Did I—did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I say quickly, smiling. “I think you’re getting the hang of casual. You know. With the touching. And the flirting.”
The tips of his ears turn pink. “Oh.” His lips press together for a moment. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“It was. You’re learning.”
He exhales, relieved, then tips his head toward the SUV. “I’ve got a zip-up in the car if you want it.”
I settle more firmly against his side. “No. I’m okay.” He doesn’t argue. Instead, his arm around me tightens a fraction. We sit in comfortable silence, watching the lake darken.
“So…” He picks at the rocks. “Have you played any fun games lately?”
I shake my head. “No. Not since the Freezer Feast with your family.” I smile at the memory.
“Yeah, me either. It’s been busy.”
“Are you as competitive as everyone else?” I ask, tilting my head to look at him.
“Not really. Having two older sisters, you realize at a young age you’re not winning much.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “I can see that. If I get to join you again, I’ll be sure to bring my competitive skills.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. If I get to join you again… those are future-planning words, and we’re not planning any type of future.
“I believe Mallory’s planning a dinner and game night soon, if you’d like to join.”
I nod. Here’s to future planning. “Sure. That sounds fun.”
We stay longer than we intend to. The lake mirrors the fading light, catching soft blues, silvers, and pale lavender. One by one, stars poke through the sky.
Miles shifts, careful not to disturb me. I don’t move. He exhales slowly. “We should probably head back.”
“Yeah.” But I don’t move. Neither does he. The silence stretches between us. Not awkward. I tilt my face up to look at him. In the low light, his eyes catch what little glow there is left, and my thoughts turn to mush.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
My answer lodges behind my ribs. Because I am—and I’m not. Because all my attention is on how warm his body is against me. I swallow. “I’m fine.”
He studies me as if he’s deciding whether to believe me or call my bluff. His hand shifts on my shoulder; it’s barely a movement, but it still registers. Slowly, his thumb brushes the edge of my sleeve. Then his gaze drops. Not to my hands in my lap. Not to the lake. To my mouth.
That quiet shift flips a switch in me. I should make a joke. I should stand up. I should break the moment before it turns into something I can’t pretend away. Instead, I turn toward him. “This is practice.”
My fingers curl into the front of his shirt, gathering the fabric as if I need to anchor myself.
His breath stutters before his arm tightens, pulling me closer.
For a second, his forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling.
I lift my chin to close the last inch myself.
My lips meet his, soft and slow. Then he kisses me back, just as slow, but there’s a hitch in it.
A hesitation. As if he’s suddenly aware of his hands and doesn’t quite know what to do with them. They hover at my sides.
I pull back just enough to look at him. “You okay?”
He exhales, half laugh, half confession. “Yeah. I just…” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
My heart softens. I slide a hand down his arms, grounding me. Or maybe both of us. “You’re not.”
His eyes search mine like he’s waiting for permission and hoping he doesn’t need it. I lean in again, brushing my mouth against his. “Here,” I murmur, guiding his hands to place them at my waist. His thumbs rest just above my hips. “This is good.”
He inhales sharply as his hands settle. “Okay,” he murmurs.
The kiss deepens instantly. His confidence settles into place now that he knows exactly where he’s allowed to be. His grip tightens—not rough, just sure—and when I shift closer, he follows without hesitation.
When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath uneven. “How’d I do?” he asks, nerves creeping back in now that the moment’s paused.
I smile. “Good.” His thumb stills as if he’s waiting for the rest. “Really good.”
He exhales, relief and pride tangling together. “You’re a really good teacher.”
I laugh softly, brushing my nose against his. “You’re an A-plus student.”
His smile turns slow and boyish—and before either of us can overthink it, I kiss him again. And this time? He doesn’t hesitate at all.