Miles checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror, running a hand over his freshly trimmed fade. He'd decided to wear his dreads loose today, framing his face instead of pulling them back into his usual training tie. His dark eyes studied his own image critically before he nodded once, satisfied.
He'd chosen a simple fit—black jeans, clean white sneakers, and a deep blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. Not trying too hard, but definitely a step up from his usual track sweats or school clothes.
"Someone's looking fancy," Zoe commented when he emerged from the bathroom. She was sprawled across the living room couch, phone in hand as always. "Got plans?"
"Just meeting a friend," Miles replied, avoiding her gaze.
Zoe snorted. "A 'friend' from Central named Kayla, maybe?"
Miles froze. "How did you—"
"Please. You've been smiling at your phone for weeks." She turned her attention back to her screen. "Plus you're wearing the shirt Mom got you for Christmas that you said was 'too much.'"
Miles tugged at the collar self-consciously. "It's just ice cream."
"Mmhmm." Zoe's knowing smile remained fixed on her face. "Tell Kayla I said hi."
Miles grabbed his wallet and keys, ignoring his sister's teasing. His phone buzzed with a text from Kayla as he headed for the door.
just leaving now. see u in 15
He typed back a quick reply before pocketing his phone. The Velocity System sat charging on his desk, and Miles deliberately left it behind. Today wasn't about training data or competition analysis. Today was just about him and Kayla.
Jimmy's Ice Cream was a local spot that had survived decades of changing neighborhoods and food trends. Its retro neon sign and checkerboard floor tiles gave it a timeless quality that had made it a favorite hangout for generations of students.
Miles arrived five minutes early, claiming a small booth near the window. Through the glass, he watched people passing on the sidewalk, enjoying the warm spring afternoon. His fingers drummed an unconscious rhythm on the tabletop as he waited.
When Kayla pushed through the door, Miles momentarily forgot how to breathe.
She'd traded her usual athletic wear for light wash high-waisted jeans and a cropped lavender top that complemented her warm brown skin. Her normally pulled-back hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, revealing delicate gold earrings that caught the light when she moved. Without her usual ponytail, her face seemed softer somehow—her high cheekbones and expressive dark eyes more prominent, her smile wider when she spotted him.
Miles stood as she approached, suddenly aware of his height advantage as she stopped in front of him. The subtle scent of her perfume—something floral but not overwhelming—reached him before she did.
"Hey," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Hey," Miles responded, momentarily lost for words. "You look... different."
Kayla raised an eyebrow. "Good different or bad different?"
"Good," he said quickly. "Really good."
Her smile widened, eyes taking in his appearance. "You clean up pretty nice yourself. Didn't know you owned anything but track gear."
"Special occasions," Miles shrugged, feeling the tension break.
They slid into the booth, knees accidentally brushing underneath the small table. Neither moved away.
"So," Kayla said, picking up a laminated menu, "are you finally ready to admit that mint chocolate chip is superior?"
Miles laughed, grateful for the familiar competitive banter. "Not a chance. Cookie dough dominates and you know it."
"The debate continues," she sighed dramatically.
A server approached with the practiced boredom of someone who'd witnessed a thousand teenage almost-couples. "Ready to order?"
"Double scoop cookie dough in a waffle cone," Miles said without hesitation.
"Single scoop mint chip in a cup," Kayla countered. "With hot fudge."
As the server walked away, Kayla tilted her head. "All that training and you're getting a double?"
"Burned like a thousand calories yesterday," Miles grinned. "Besides, this is a celebration, right? Both of us hitting number one rankings?"
"True." She leaned forward slightly. "Your time was seriously impressive. Coach Torres didn't believe me when I told her you ran 20.87 as a freshman."
"Barely believe it myself," Miles admitted. "Everything just clicked."
"That happens sometimes. All the training suddenly pays off at once." She studied him with curious eyes. "Has it been weird? All the attention since nationals and now this?"
Miles considered the question. "Yeah, kind of. People I've never met acting like they know me. Random texts. Instagram comments."
"The curse of being good," Kayla nodded. "And, you know..."
"What?"
She gestured vaguely toward his face. "Looking like that."
Miles felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Like what?"
"Oh, come on." Kayla rolled her eyes. "You know you're like, ridiculously good-looking, right? The girls at Central literally have a group chat about your MileSplit photos."
Now Miles was truly embarrassed. "They do not."
"They absolutely do. I got added to it by accident before they realized I actually know you." Her laugh was light, teasing. "Don't worry, I defended your honor. Told them you're a terrible texter who uses too many emojis."
"I do not use too many emojis," Miles protested, fighting a smile.
"Says the guy who sent me five fire emojis in a row after my PR."
Their ice cream arrived, momentarily pausing the conversation. Miles watched as Kayla took her first bite, her face lighting up with simple pleasure.
"So good," she murmured. "Want to try? Final chance to see the light."
Miles hesitated, then nodded. She offered a spoonful, and he leaned forward to take it, their eyes meeting briefly over the table. The mint was cool and refreshing, the chocolate adding perfect texture.
"Not bad," he conceded. "Your turn." He held out his cone.
Kayla took a small bite and considered it thoughtfully. "The cookie dough chunks are good," she admitted. "But mint chip still wins."
"Agree to disagree," Miles smiled.
For a few moments, they enjoyed their ice cream in comfortable silence. Miles found himself noticing details about Kayla he'd never had the chance to observe before—the small dimple that appeared in her left cheek when she smiled, the graceful way her hands moved as she spoke, the tiny scar near her eyebrow that he wanted to ask about.
"So," she said eventually, "when do you face King?"
"Henderson Invitational in three weeks," Miles replied. "You'll be there too, right?"
"Yep. Central always runs Henderson." She studied him curiously. "Does he get in your head? All that trash talk?"
Miles considered this. "Not really. Not anymore. Used to be I'd overthink everything, worry about what people thought. Now I just... run."
"That's the right mindset," she nodded approvingly. "King's fast, but he's beatable."
"Especially if he tightens up in the last fifty like you noticed."
Kayla's eyes lit up. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything you tell me," Miles said, the words coming out more earnestly than he'd intended.
A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. "Smooth, Carter."
"Not trying to be smooth," he shrugged. "Just true."
Their conversation flowed easily after that, moving from track to school to movies to family. Miles learned that Kayla had started running because her dad had been a 400m specialist in college—a detail that created an unexpected connection between them, both following in their fathers' footsteps, though under very different circumstances.
"He still times all my workouts when he's not on shift," she explained. "Gets more nervous than I do before races."
"That's cool though," Miles said, trying to keep the wistfulness from his voice. "Having him there."
Kayla nodded, seeming to understand the unspoken comparison. "What about your mom? She comes to your meets, right?"
"When she can get off work," Miles confirmed. "Her schedule's tough, but she tries."
"And Zoe? The sister who helped with my birthday gift?"
Miles laughed. "She says hi, by the way. And yeah, she comes when it doesn't conflict with dance practice."
As they finished their ice cream, Miles noticed a group of girls at a nearby table glancing their way and whispering. One of them appeared to be surreptitiously taking a photo.
"Your fan club?" Kayla asked, following his gaze.
"Apparently," Miles sighed. "Sorry about that."
"I'm used to it," she said with a half-smile. "All part of dating New York's fastest freshman."
Miles blinked, her casual use of "dating" catching him off guard in the best possible way. "Is that what we're doing?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.
Kayla met his eyes directly. "I mean, I don't usually share my mint chip with just anyone."
"That's a high honor," Miles nodded solemnly.
"The highest." She glanced at her phone. "Want to walk for a bit? There's a park a few blocks down."
Outside, the late afternoon sun cast everything in golden light. They walked close together, hands occasionally brushing until Miles finally gathered his courage and interlaced his fingers with hers. Kayla's hand felt small but strong in his, her grip confident.
The park was a simple neighborhood square with a few benches and flowering trees just beginning to bloom. They found an empty bench partially shaded by pink blossoms.
"So," Kayla said as they sat down, still holding hands, "now that you're the 200 meter king of New York, what's next?"
"Defend the title, I guess," Miles replied. "Outdoor nationals eventually. You?"
"Same goals. Though I'm thinking about adding the 400 for championship season."
"That's brutal."
"Says the guy who broke the national freshman record in the 300," she countered.
"Fair point." Miles smiled, then hesitated before asking, "Do you ever think past high school? Like where track might take you?"
Kayla nodded. "All the time. My dad wants me at his alma mater, LSU. I'm leaning toward Oregon though."
"That's far," Miles observed, the same twinge he'd felt during their training session returning.
"Track takes you where it takes you," she repeated her earlier sentiment, but her voice was softer now. "What about you? With your times, you could go anywhere in a few years."
"Haven't thought that far ahead," Miles admitted. "Everything's happened so fast."
"That's the Miles Carter story," she said with a gentle smile. "Freshman phenom takes the track world by storm."
"Makes it sound bigger than it feels," Miles shook his head. "I'm just figuring it out day by day."
"That's why you're going to keep improving," Kayla said, surprising him. "You don't let it get to your head."
"Thanks," he said, genuinely touched by her confidence in him.
A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched a family playing frisbee across the park. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink.
"I should probably head back soon," Kayla said eventually. "My dad gets worried if I'm out after dark."
Miles nodded, reluctantly releasing her hand as they stood. They began walking toward the bus stop where Kayla would catch her ride home, their pace deliberately slow as if to extend their time together.
"This was nice," she said as they reached the stop. "Different seeing you without spikes and starting blocks between us."
"Good different?" Miles asked, echoing her question from earlier.
"Definitely good," she smiled.
Miles looked down at her, taking in the way the sunset light caught in her hair, the warmth in her dark eyes as she looked back at him. The moment stretched between them, full of possibility.
Slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted, Miles leaned down. Kayla rose slightly on her toes to meet him, and then her lips were on his—soft, tentative, and perfect.
The kiss lasted only seconds, but when they pulled apart, Miles felt as if something fundamental had shifted in his universe. Kayla's smile was shy now, a quality he'd never associated with her confidence on the track.
"That was..." she began.
"Yeah," Miles agreed, unable to find better words.
The sound of an approaching bus broke the moment. Kayla glanced toward it, then back at Miles.
"Text me when you get home?" he asked.
She nodded. "And Miles?"
"Yeah?"
"For the record, I still think mint chip is better," she grinned, the competitive spark returning to her eyes. "But cookie dough isn't bad either."
As the bus pulled away with Kayla waving from the window, Miles began his walk home, a smile fixed firmly on his face. For once, his mind wasn't on his next race or training session or what the Velocity System would recommend for tomorrow's workout.
Instead, he was simply a fifteen-year-old who'd just had his first real date, his first real kiss, and the promise of something new unfolding before him—something that had nothing to do with records or rankings, and everything to do with the way Kayla Fisher made him feel when she smiled.
His phone buzzed with a text from Andre:
how'd it go with central girl?
Miles considered how to respond, finally typing:
mint chip isn't as bad as I thought
Andre's reply came quickly:
no idea what that means but assuming it went well
yeah, Miles typed, still smiling. it really did