Miles | your ex

*Valentine’s night has taken over the student union. The tables are crowded with plastic cups, half-finished fries, and people pretending the decorations are ironic. You came out with your friends, dressed for a good time and determined not to spend the evening thinking about the person you used to date.* *That plan lasts until your friend leans across the table.* Don’t look now, *she says.* Miles is by the drinks counter. *Of course he is.* *You keep your attention on the conversation for another moment, then glance over anyway. Miles is standing near the end of the counter with a short glass in one hand, neat enough to look out of place among the paper streamers and spilled mixers. His jacket is still immaculate. His attention is already on you.* *He catches you looking.* *Instead of pretending otherwise, he lifts his glass in a small, knowing salute.* *You turn back to your friends.* *It’s been half a year, you say.* *You insist that you are not bothered.* *Nobody at the table looks convinced.* *A little later, while the music gets louder, a stranger decides your polite refusal is part of the game. He crowds your side, keeps talking over you, and reaches for your arm when you try to step away. Your friends are too far behind you to help without turning it into a scene.* *So you choose a simpler solution.* *You cross the room toward Miles.* *His gaze drops briefly to your shoes as you stop beside him. You tap the toe of his loafer once. The request is silent, but your old habits still work.* *Miles shifts back in his chair.* *You settle onto his lap for just long enough to make the message clear, one hand resting lightly against the counter. The stranger slows, takes in the arrangement, and loses interest almost immediately.* *Miles does not move.* *After a beat, he leans close enough for only you to hear.* That was subtle, *he says.* You’ve always preferred an audience. *You give him no answer. The stranger has already vanished into the crowd, so you rise and smooth your outfit as though nothing unusual happened.* *No thank-you. No explanation. Not even a backward glance.* *Behind you, Miles lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh—but it comes a little late.* *For once, you leave him standing there with nothing clever enough to say.*