Page 18 of Zero Confusion

DomPetty: Same. Maybe we need a “show and tell” thread next.

SubZero: I’ll bring my cuffs if Petty brings his paddles. Lime, bring your…feathers?

SubLime: Now I have the urge to start collecting rare bird feathers.

SubAir: You need one of those silicone ice molds with fun shapes. What could be sexier than a hot dude trailing an ice cube shaped like a Borg ship down your naked body?

DomicronPersei8: I just got a very confusing nerd boner.

Chapter 8

MILES

Zach was already up by the time Miles opened his eyes at sunrise. Engrossed in his reading, he flashed Miles a distracted smile that didn’t reach his eyes and pointed to the coffeepot. On the surface, everything seemed normal, but the air between them hung heavy, oppressive, throwing Miles off-balance.

Last night, Zach had promised he wasn’t mad about the Tyler situation, but Miles couldn’t shake the sense that something had shifted. Something big.

They drifted through the day—Zach studying quietly and Miles alternating between sketching cubes and scrolling on his phone. They made small talk over dinner, but other than that, Zach had given him a wide berth.

That night, neither of them reached out to hold hands, and Miles’s whole being ached from the distance between them. He hated every second of their careful silence.

The tension ebbed the next day. They made ciabatta toast and ate it with generic strawberry jam Miles found in the back of the fridge. It tasted like straight sugar, which suited Miles just fine.

When Zach poured their coffee, mixing two spoonfuls of sugar into Miles’s cup before handing it to him, giddy relief washed over Miles at the simple gesture. The strange, suffocating energy of the previous day was slowly fading away.

When he returned from taking a shower, Zach was dressed and shoving a stack of papers into his bag, glancing up when Miles walked in. “I only have one class for now. It meets Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for three hours.”

“I know, Zee. You told me about this class and the consumer one that’s starting in a few weeks.”

“Right.” Zach zipped the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few hours. You can use my laptop since I’m not taking it with me. It’s all discussions today, and I can do those case studies in my sleep at this point. In fact, I had a nightmare about getting canceled when someone found out I use shampoo with palm oil.”

Miles laughed—glad that Zach was joking around—and intercepted him by the door for an awkward side hug.

“Tell Joel I said hi,” he mumbled into Zach’s hair.

“Will do.” Zach squeezed his elbow and stepped away with a half-smile on his lips. “Tyler too?”

“Zee, I’m sorry—” Miles started, but Zach raised his palms in surrender.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I promise, I’m not mad at you.”

When the door clicked shut and the muffled sounds of Zach dragging his bike down the stairs faded away, Miles ran a hand down his face in frustration. Something was off. He didn’t know if it was because of the Tyler thing or the dancing.

He blushed. Neither of them had mentioned the dancing. Miles had been fully prepared for a perfectly reasonable What the hell was that? reaction, but Zach hadn’t said a word, and broaching the subject himself felt too awkward. Besides, what would he even say? Expecting the question didn’t mean he had the answer.

And he really didn’t have the answer. After an entire day of mulling it over, he hadn’t managed to come up with a single excuse as to why he’d muscled his way onto the dance floor and practically glued himself to his best friend.

No, that wasn’t true.

While it raised more questions than it answered, he did have one excuse—because he’d wanted to. Because in the moment, it felt like the right thing to do.

The only thing to do.

Maybe it was for the best that Zach hadn’t brought it up.

It was his first time at the apartment without Zach, and the small space was too quiet, too still. He poked around Zach’s bookshelves, pulling out a few books to read the blurbs. Mostly marketing textbooks, a few sci-fi and romance novels sprinkled in, an occasional notebook filled with Zach’s messy handwriting. One of the novels sounded promising, so he brought it over to the couch and settled in to read. Ten minutes later and two pages in, he had to admit he was too restless to concentrate.

With a sigh, he abandoned the book and grabbed Zach’s laptop. He could fuck around online or do some research on potential internships for next year, even if, deep down, he knew he wouldn’t follow through. His parents wanted him back on the farm the day he graduated. They’d never let him pursue any interests outside of their world.