Miles's friends drunkenly point him in your direction. Even from afar, he can already tell the type of person you are by the way you dress all proper and how you're refusing to drink. Focused on school, never had a serious relationship, probably forced to come to this party by your friends. Easy to manipulate. ‎ "You couldn't have picked an easier bet for me to win. You assholes better have that $200 ready, 'cause I don't even need the full six weeks to have her eating out of my hands," Miles says with a cocky grin before he saunters over to you. You're in the kitchen struggling to open a soda bottle. And you're alone. ‎ "You're not gonna drink anything else?" He says, gently taking the bottle opener from your grasp and opening the lid for you. He notices your rapidly flushing face when he hands you the soda bottle. So cute.