CALLADriving home with Miles feels so much like old times that, for the first few minutes, I almost forget everything that has changed.My hands rest easily on the steering wheel while he sits in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone before abandoning it in his lap. His own car is somewhere with his friends, which is nothing unusual.There have been so many times over the years when one of us has ended up driving the other somewhere that I don’t even think twice about it anymore. School events, late, trips to the beach and parties... There are probably more memories of Miles sitting beside me in this car than there are of anyone else.For a little while, it really is just us. It feels easy and familiar talking and joking about school. It’s like slipping back into something that has always known how to fit.Then the conversation fades, and the silence that follows lasts less than five minutes before I start overthinking it. I glance at him once then again. The third time, he
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