Miles was inclined to drown himself in it. Gwen got Miles peach-infused hand lotion the next month-so a part of her would always be with him when she went back home, so his palms wouldn't get sweaty when they held hands on the metro. His heart quickened, and Miles couldn't decipher if it was because of Gwen or the blood rushing to his head by virtue of sitting upside-down. Gwen expelled a tiny chuckle, resting her shoulder against Miles.
I mean, I never really cared about them before but. Why do you ask?" Gwen said, and Miles could hear the slight smile in her voice, the tile to her pierced eyebrow, "Do you like the smell?" "What shampoo do you use?" Miles asked one day, Gwen seated next to him, the two of them looking out at the vast expanse of Miles' New York. now, he thinks they're the only thing he can smell. He's certain they were always there, but he never paid them a passing glance. It radiated off of her, rolling like waves from her jaded skin, ebbing and flowing off her cropped blonde hair.įollowing that inhale, the first instance of Gwen's-or, rather, Gwanda's-scent of dewy peaches, it swirled around Miles' head, committing itself to his memory.Īnd ever since then, Miles has been acutely aware of any lingering hint of glacé peaches.Īs he pranced through the heart of New York, headphones assured on his ears and a backpack assured on his shoulders, he would pick up the smell wafting from a corner stand while packed within a tight subway, the only thing quelling his racing thoughts would be someone's peach-scented sanitizer as he went to collect groceries for mami, he'd notice a cart full of peaches. That's what Miles smelt when he first met Gwen.
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