The stress levels were at an all time high in the Hollingsworth living room, which was temporarily serving as command central. Everyone was pitching ideas in order to find missing Maya. Zig was fraught with worry and insisted on blaming himself rather than thinking about how to solve the problem. He was ready to jump from one zany plan to another even when it didn't make sense. Luckily, Tristan had a cool head and took control of the situation at hand by firing up his laptop and calming everyone down. Miles was grateful for his leadership and was hovering closer until he was directly behind him. Tristan stiffened for a moment when Miles rested his arm on the back of the chair, but other than that there was no sign that he suggested that he would have preferred it if he was on the other side of the room.
Miles was relieved that he wasn't banished because this is where he needed to be. He had to be near the familiar scent that always made him imagine a rain forest in the spring with white flowers everywhere and an intoxicating combination of blood oranges, lemons, grapefruits and pepper. It was the smell of Tristan's all time favourite cologne: Versace Man.
Miles discovered the scent on the night of the thunderstorm. Right before the two of them rejoined his sister and Winston in the living room, Tristan spritzed a bit of his cologne on his neck. Miles was automatically drawn to the captivating aroma of that first spray which had him visualizing strong scented lemon trees everywhere. The dry down turned out to be even better. Miles was much too shy to tell Tristan that it was the smell of Versace Man that allowed him to find him, and used the excuse about how circling back to the starting point was the oldest trick in the book to save himself.
Grace was now talking about formulas or focal points and that was enough to catch Miles' own focus. He also noticed Zoë's doe eyes towards her while she was sharply making links. He remembered that look. It was the same look that Tristan use to give him when he was his. It was a memory that was still locked in his mind even if other traces of their relationships were starting to fade. Miles closed his eyes and took another deep breath to recall how Tristan's scent used to be a permanent fixture in his car. They definitely had enough steamy makeouts in the closed quarters for the aroma to linger longer than it normally would.
Miles used to recline the seats as far as they would go before switching sides and straddling Tristan to mould their chests together. No matter where he kissed, the heavenly smell would always wrap itself around him like a metaphorical blanket. It was the combination of sandalwood and citrus that drove him wild. It was like a slow dance in the misty rain with a cooling feel. It contrasted deliciously with the hot, urgent kisses that would start at Tristan's lips before trailing lower to his neck where the scent was at its strongest. His lover's hands would then go lower and his nimble fingers would inch closer until—
Miles forced himself back into the moment when he realized that he was smiling just a bit too widely considering that it was a time of crisis. This was not where his mind needed to be.
"Um, Miles?" Tristan asked the brunet a few moments later, waving a hand in front of his face to get his attention.
Miles faced the boy in front of him who gave him a weird look in return.
"Come on. Your girlfriend cracked the case. We're calling the police."
He watched everyone exit.
"She's not my girlfriend," he said out loud to the empty room before leaving to follow his friends.