Miles Hollingsworth III was a legend, and this was no accident. Even though he'd been at Degrassi for less than a year, he'd done little to conceal the tales of his frivolous antics. If you heard a rumor about something - or someone - he'd done, it was likely to be true, and when those stories spread like wildfire, there was a 90% chance that Miles was the spark that started them all. Miles constantly boasted about his conquests and adventures. He took great pride in them.

There were little things that everyone knew, like how he'd claimed he'd kissed fifty boys and a hundred girls in his short pubescent life, or how he'd been having his marijuana specially mailed to him from BC since he was thirteen, and still hadn't been caught. Then, there were the more elaborate stories, like how he'd been pronounced dead after getting alcohol poisoning at Summerfest and was miraculously revived, or how he'd only passed English fall semester because he'd blackmailed the teacher with incriminating screenshots from Grindr. The basics you couldn't avoid hearing. They simply came up in passing. The longer stories you heard because, somewhere deep down, you secretly wanted to hear them. And most people wanted to, because the fact of the matter was that Miles Hollingsworth III was undeniably fascinating.

That's why Drew Torres caught himself staring when Miles sauntered into the Hollingsworth courtyard that sunny afternoon in March. As hard as Drew had tried to be immune to Degrassi's Miles epidemic, he'd fallen victim to watching the enigmatic boy as closely as anyone else. Now, he couldn't look away. Seeing Miles at school was one thing, but seeing him here, at his house, in his native environment, was something new entirely.

Miles was wearing a dapper suit, dressed up for one of his his father's frequent mayoral campaign events. But his attire wasn't the most drastic difference. Miles always kept it classy enough with his polo-and-cardigan combinations. The thing that really got Drew's attention was Miles's posture. At school, he slouched around the hallways. He leaned in doorways and ate lunch with his knees on the table. Here at home, in preparation for mingling with dozens of important people, Miles was moving differently. He stood perfectly upright, giving off the illusion that he actually took his life seriously. The transformation was astounding.

"Take a picture," Miles chuckled, giving Drew a charming nod as he attractively fastened the button of his suit jacket. "It'll last longer."

Drew quickly looked back down at the pamphlets he was folding. His face felt hot, and his stomach did a somersault. He cleared his throat as Miles came closer to the table he was sitting at.

"I'm sorry, I, uh…" Drew could be very good with words when he needed to be, but he always got tongue tied when he was flustered. He'd never meant for Miles to see him staring, and he wasn't even sure he'd meant to be watching him. He immediately hated himself for letting this happen.

"No need to be embarrassed, Golden Boy." Miles smirked. "You think I'm not used to being watched all the time?"

"I wasn't watching you." Drew said assertively, finally getting ahold of himself. "I just… spaced out."

Miles's smile only grew. He stood directly across from Drew, crossing his arms and cocking his head. Drew could feel him looking at him as he went about his work, and a wave of annoyance passed over him.

"Do you want to help me fold these, or do you want to go inside?" Drew asked, attempting to take control of the situation.

Without saying anything, Miles came around the table, pulled out the chair next to Drew's, and sat in it. He took a sheet of paper from Drew's stack, and began to fold it. Drew blinked, dumbfounded. He'd been so sure Miles would leave. He was almost hoping he would, so he could concentrate on anything else.

"So, tell me," Miles began, moving past the awkwardness. "What's your deal?"

Drew scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable. "Um… My deal?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately my Dad hasn't told me much about you." Miles explained. "Frankly, I'm offended that we haven't had a proper introduction. But then again, he probably knew no good could come of it."

Miles grinned wickedly. Seductively. The stories of Miles's boy-on-boy hookups swirled uncontrollably through Drew's head, and he desperately tried to push them out. He cleared his throat again, and began folding the papers a bit faster.

"There's not much to know about me," He said calmly. "I'm your dad's youth coordinator. I'm helping with the election… trying to secure the votes of university-age students by researching the issues that…"

"Yeah." Miles cut him off. "I'm not so interested in that."

"Then what are you interested in?" Drew asked rigidly.

Miles looked away, sighing dramatically. He rested a hand on Drew's shoulder. "My guess is my dad wouldn't have hired you if you weren't smart enough to figure it out."

Drew's jaw dropped a bit, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. Miles leaned a little closer to him.

"But between you and me," Miles said softly. "I've been watching you too."

Miles's hand lingered for a moment longer, then softly slid down Drew's bicep as he pulled away. Drew was speechless as Miles slowly lifted himself up from the table, glancing around to make sure no one had seen them talking. He walked away without saying another word, leaving Drew more intrigued than ever.

It was difficult not to know who Drew Torres was, but that's simply because he regularly addressed the entire student body via video announcements. Personally, Miles hadn't voted for Drew for student council president, but that's only because he wasn't at Degrassi yet when elections were taking place. That being said, he had always liked the way Drew worked as a leader, and honestly, if Drew was running for Mayor, and Miles was old enough to vote, he'd probably pick Drew over his dad. Drew seemed to genuinely care about people's happiness. He never let the power go to his head.

Miles could remember the first dance he'd attended at Degrassi. It was the back-to-school dance, and it was luau themed, complete with inflatable palm trees and kiddie pools. The whole thing was ridiculously tacky, but in the best way possible.

Miles secretly loved to dance, and got weirdly excited about events where other people might actually feel compelled to dance WITH him. He was on the floor, having a blast with some guy from his history class, when he saw Drew in person for the first time. Drew was moving around, this intense look of concentration on his face as he checked and double checked that everything was in order. He checked the refreshment tables to make sure their were enough snacks out. He checked the wires of the sound system to make sure they were taped down properly. He walked the floor, nervously eyeing all of the groups of friends, checking to make sure nothing shady was going on.

It wasn't that there weren't chaperones at the dance. Drew just seemed to feel this overwhelming sense of responsibility. Miles remembered thinking that, while the care Drew took to make sure everyone had a good time was endearing, it was also a little sad. Drew had planned a really fun night, and he wasn't letting himself enjoy it. Miles had always felt that life was too short to waste time dwelling on the little things. He felt his own overwhelming sense of responsibility. He swore to himself that one day, he would take Drew under his wing, and show him how to live. He just had to find the right opportunity. When Miles's dad brought Drew onto his staff, Miles was thrilled. His opportunity had come at last.

Tonight, as Mr. Hollingsworth schmoozed potential donors in the Hollingsworth's formal living room, a large space that the family only really used for cocktail parties such as this one, Drew did the same thing he'd done at every school dance. He wandered around, looking for nonexistent problems to fix. Miles felt it was his duty to distract him. He strolled up to Drew, two glasses in his hands.

"You thirsty?" He asked.

Drew looked down at the glasses. "Is that alcohol?"

"It's ginger ale." Miles answered honestly. "I thought you might be thirsty."

Drew hesitated. Miles rolled his eyes.

"What? Do you honestly think I'd be dumb enough to drug you or something at my father's campaign event?"

Drew incredulously blinked at him. The thought hadn't crossed his mind. "That's not what I said." To avoid any further accusations, Drew quickly took the glass and took a drink.

Miles laughed. "You can relax, okay? I don't bite. Unless you ask nicely."

With that, Drew choked on his soda, spitting back into his glass. A nearby group of party guests turned to look at him as he coughed. Miles grinned, pleased with himself, and gave Drew a few good smacks on the back.

"Well, now you're just making a scene. Come on. Come with me."

Drew nodded, and began following Miles through the room, mostly because he hated that all eyes were on him. He'd worked so hard to be a decent employee. He'd hate it if he did anything to upset Mr. H. He'd feel guilty if he distracted from the campaign in any way, even if the commotion his coughing fit was causing was minor.

As the boys made their way through a quiet corridor, Drew began to catch his breath. Once he could breathe, he realized that Miles's hand was still on his back.

"You alright?" He asked, rubbing it slightly.

Drew stopped in his tracks. "Yeah. I'm fine. We should, um… go back in there."

"And do what?" Miles took a couple steps back and leaned against the wall. This was more like the Miles Drew saw every day at school. "You know, if my dad needed you to help tonight, he'd specifically tell you what to do. It seems to me that you're a free man."

Drew laughed nervously. "Yeah, but what if he decides he does need something."

Miles shook his head. He took a couple steps toward Drew.

"You know, I get it." Miles told him. "You like to please people: the kids at school… my dad…"

There was a dangerous look in Miles's eyes as he got closer and closer. Drew wished he could break eye contact, but somehow, he was stuck. "Well… your dad's my boss. I have to do what he says."

Miles chuckled. "It's cute how much you care. But when nobody's paying attention, it wouldn't kill you to let yourself go."

Miles's face was just inches away from his now. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he knew he should step away. Instead, he found himself moving in the opposite direction. He didn't think. He just took Miles in his arms, and kissed him with a force he hadn't known he was capable of. Miles kissed back, and soon they were making out full-force. Drew pushed him into the wall, holding his waist.

"Well," Miles gasped in between kisses. "That was easier than I thought it would be."

Drew ignored the comment, and just kept kissing him.

Then, suddenly, they were interrupted.

"Miles!" A woman's voice barked.

Drew quickly flew away from Miles, and turned to see Mrs. Hollingsworth standing just a few feet down the hallway. He immediately panicked. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. He was a goner.

Mrs. Hollingsworth cleared her throat awkwardly, and avoided looking directly at Drew.

"Miles, there's a reporter here who wants to get a picture of all you kids."

Miles stood up a bit straighter again, nodding with a guilty smirk on his face. Without another word, Mrs. Hollingsworth turned and started back down the hallway. Miles started to follow her. As he went, he looked back over his shoulder at Drew.

"Let's do this again sometime." He said gently.

Drew smiled strangely as Miles disappeared into the next room. Somehow, the excitement of interacting with Miles again in any capacity distracted him from the fact that he was totally fired. Maybe Miles was right. Maybe letting himself go every now and then would be good for him.