Page 7 of Zero Confusion

“Public Relations,” Zach replied, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s required for the minor in marketing. It’s all about how to handle PR issues, and next week, we’re going through a bunch of examples of how companies handled their scandals. Remember that car commercial that got a ton of backlash for having all-white straight couples? That’s one of the examples we’re discussing.”

“That’s definitely different from what we study in Agriculture classes,” Miles murmured, struck by how divergent their paths had become. Zach was learning how to influence thousands of people and shape public perception while Miles was getting a degree he didn’t want, in a major his parents had chosen for him.

“Only because farms don’t have PR disasters.” Zach shrugged. “No one really cares about what happens on farms except the people who live on them.”

“How about you tell me about these?” Miles gestured at the articles strewn about the table.

“It’s not that exciting.” Zach picked one from the top. “You really wanna hear about it?”

“If it’ll help you study, then yeah. Besides, it sounds interesting.” Miles nodded, pleased at the responding spark in Zach’s eyes. Truth be told, he would have listened to anything Zach wanted to tell him. He loved the sound of Zach’s perpetually amused voice, the mischievous edge that made everything he said feel like a shared joke.

They spent the next few hours going over the case studies. Zach patiently explained various elements of corporate marketing, pointing out who’d dropped the ball in each case and what their job had entailed. Miles didn’t understand all of it, but he asked a lot of questions. This was a new world for him—he’d never considered that there was more to marketing than TV commercials and magazine ads.

As Zach talked, Miles tried to file everything away, but it was hard to focus. Zach’s excitement was distracting, his bouncing energy and playful smile more fascinating than any corporate scandal. The urge to reach out and envelop him in a tight hug was impossible to resist.

Miles was a moth, and Zach was the brightest light around.

As the darkness in the room deepened, Zach interrupted himself. “You must be exhausted. You’ve been awake since, what, four in the morning?”

Miles nodded. He’d been trying to tamp down his yawns, but they were coming hard and fast.

“Let’s get ready for bed. We got through a lot more material than I expected.” Zach gave Miles’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thank you for listening to me go on.”

“Anytime.” Miles stopped fighting the urge and pulled Zach’s small body into his own. “I love listening to you talk about smart stuff.”

For a brief moment, Zach gave in, his weight melting into Miles. It was a perfect fit—the connection between them strong and undeniable—but the moment was over before he could truly enjoy it. Zach tensed and scrambled off the couch, rushing toward the narrow hallway. “I’ll grab you a towel.”

They took turns going through their nightly routine. The shower stall was cramped, clearly not designed for a man his size, but the water was hot and relaxing, and Miles let his mind wander as he stood under the stream. The scent of Zach’s body wash permeated the steamy air, a tart citrus that didn’t smell quite right without Zach’s own sweetness mixed into it.

After drying off and slipping into an old T-shirt and boxers, he belatedly realized he’d forgotten to pack sweatpants.

Zach had seen him in his underwear plenty of times, yet for some strange reason, Miles was self-conscious about the amount of skin that was showing.

There wasn’t much to do about it now. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the bathroom and halted. Zach was zipping around the room with surprising grace, tucking away clutter and humming under his breath.

Zach’s brothers had always teased him for being small. It made sense coming from Jerry—being mocked by older brothers was practically a rite of passage—but even Abe, almost three years younger, towered over Zach by the time he was twelve. And sure, Zach was on the shorter side—willowy and slender, almost fragile at first glance—but his movements were sure-footed, and lean muscles lurked underneath his lithe exterior. He had a quiet strength about him. Maybe he wouldn’t win any arm-wrestling competitions, but he could more than hold his own.

After it hit him that he’d been blatantly staring, Miles cleared his throat. “Shower’s all yours.”

Zach glanced back and widened his eyes, freezing mid-movement. Miles flushed at the reaction. “I’m sorry, I forgot to bring pajamas. I could borrow yours or...”

“Hilarious,” Zach panned. “They’re stretchy, but I don’t think they’re up to the challenge of someone twice my size.” Zach emphasized his words by running his eyes up and down Miles’s body and lifting an eyebrow. “It’s all good. I sleep in my boxers too.”

He gestured toward the bed and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Miles grabbed his phone and climbed under the comforter. Though money and space were in short supply, Zach had sprung for a queen-sized mattress, and Miles was only too happy to benefit from that decision. It was far more comfortable than his dorm bed and plenty big for both of them.

Settling in next to the window, Miles unlocked his phone and dutifully looked through his messages. Despite leaving behind a note and talking it out with his mom earlier in the day, every member of his family felt the need to share their opinion about his impromptu trip. His dad sent a long message about the importance of taking accountability for one’s poor decisions—not directly accusing Miles of anything but making the subtext perfectly clear. His youngest siblings, Micah and Misty, asked him to bring back some souvenirs and included a list of acceptable options. Max thought the entire thing was hilarious, not bothering to assume the responsible-older-brother role. Even Mara sent a message, though it consisted of nothing but fire and laughing emojis.

Hers was the only one he responded to, sending a thumbs-up. He’d deal with the rest of the family later.

Zach emerged from the bathroom, drying his shaggy hair with a towel. Every time Miles saw him, it inched a little lower, brushing his shoulders at the last winter break and now falling right on his collarbone. Zach’s parents hated it, taking every chance to complain about him looking like a hippie, but Miles always thought the long strands accentuated his sharp features and made him look otherworldly, like a beautiful forest elf from one of Micah’s video games.

Zach crossed the room in his boxers, stray water droplets glistening on his smooth chest, but instead of continuing toward the bed, he started rearranging the couch pillows. Miles watched him, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked when Zach brought out a sheet and spread it over the cushions.

Zach pulled out his phone and tapped a few times. The light from the standing lamp in the corner dimmed, providing enough illumination to see his puzzled expression. “Getting ready for sleep?”

Miles’s confusion deepened as he glanced between Zach and the bed. “There’s plenty of space here, Zee. Why would you sleep on the couch?”