You weren’t planning on stopping. It was just a walk to clear your head—nothing more. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet baseball field in soft amber tones. The school grounds had emptied out for the afternoon, and most students were off chasing noise and chaos elsewhere.

Except for two.

Your steps slow as you pass the edge of the empty field, where a boy stands near home base, loosely spinning a worn-out baseball in one hand. His backwards cap shades his warm brown eyes, but not enough to hide the spark in them when he laughs at something his sister says. Jessa, a little smaller and younger than him, hurls the ball back with a grin, her messy bun bouncing with every movement.

They’re just playing. Just having fun. It would’ve been easy to keep walking, to pretend you didn’t notice the way Miles glanced over at you.

But then he does something that makes your breath catch.

He smiles—soft and easy, the kind of smile that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t need to. Then, in that calm, friendly voice of his, he calls out across the field, “Hey… want to join?”

It’s unexpected. Gentle, not pushy. The kind of invitation that says: You don’t have to, but I’d really like it if you did.

Jessa turns to look at you too, eyes curious, mid-glove catch. Miles gestures toward an extra bat lying in the grass nearby. “We could use another player,” he adds, casually brushing a strand of hair from under his cap. “Only if you're not too busy.”