Miles is still looking blankly at me, then runs his hands through his hair again. “I’ve never done it before.”
I shrug. “No biggie. I can show you.” I take the patch kit—a small plastic box—and the toolbox out of the cupboard and slip my bare feet into some slides.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not necessary. I—”
I turn to him and put one hand on my hip. “C’mon, Miles. I know you think I’m vapid and superficial, but trust me. Icanfix an inner tube. I’ve been doing my own bike maintenance since I was eight.”
His brows knit together. Miles Desai also has niceeyebrows. Too bad they’re always furrowing. “I never said you were vapid and superficial.”
“You thought it,” I say lightly. I smile at him, hoping to make him trust me. “Seriously, you don’t have to like me to let me help you.”
He gives me one of his blank stares, and there’s the Miles I know. That lost wet-puppy look was confusing me… making me think he’s more attractive than he is. I’m on familiar ground with his sour mood. “What makes you think I don’t like you?” he asks.
“Um, just about everything you’ve said to me, plus all your body language since we met? You called my ideas trite and saccharine, and you implied the only thing I cared about was the way a thinglooks. You think I only want to rebrand the street for thevibes.”
His eyebrows furrow. “Well, you called me judgmental and too stuck-up to understand you or this community!”
I exhale. I don’t think anyone has been able to push my irritate buttons more than this guy. “That’s because you act like you know what’s best for Love Street better than the people who have been here forever. You pick apart every idea any of us has before we can even find out if they are feasible! We’re being optimistic and hopeful, and you’re only shooting us down!”
He shakes his head. “There’s optimism, and then there’s delusional thinking. What’s the point of working so hard on something that won’t make a difference!”
I shake my head. I should tell Zuri to hiss at him some more. This is exactly what my mother said about the BOA—that there was no point working with them since they had no control to fix anything. I have no ideahow people can be so pessimistic. “C’mon, Mr. Glass Half Empty. Let’s fix your stupid bike before the sun goes down.”
He recoils. “You still want to help me with my bike?”
“Of course I’m still going to help you. You work here on Love Street, which means whether I like it or not, you’re a member of my community. I’m not going to let a member of my community get ripped off by the bougie bike shop on Queen East.”
He stares at me for a while. Why is this guy always staring at me instead of speaking? Finally, he sighs. “All right, fine. Show me how to fix it.”
I toss him an oversize sweatshirt that was hanging on a kitchen chair as I walk past him to open the back door again. “Here, put this on. It’s getting cold out.”
If we’re going to be doing this, then I need him to cover up a bit. With his hair drying into thick waves and his strong forearms on display, there’s a distinct hazard that I’m only going to grow even more attracted to Miles Desai while helping him with his bike… which would really suck considering how much I dislike the guy.
CHAPTER SIXA GREAT BIG PLAN FOR LOVE
Thankfully, it’s not raining at all by the time we step outside. Not that it would be a problem if it were since the metal roof would keep us dry, but the roof only covers part of the balcony, and I don’t love the idea of being squished next to Miles while repairing his tire.
After he unlocks his bike, I use my tools to start removing the back wheel. It’s clearly a new bike… and April was right—it looks expensive. “You should get a better lock for a bike this nice,” I say. “It’s a wonder it hasn’t been stolen yet.”
“Yeah, it’s on my list. Next paycheck. That’s the first time I locked it up in the park, though. I used to lock it behind the bookstore, but the accountant upstairs got a car, so there isn’t room anymore.”
Expensive bike, short of money. I suspect he’s living on his own for the first time. Lord knows rent in this city isn’t fair to anyone’s budget.
After showing Miles how to get the wheel free of the chain and gears, I lean the bike up against the railing. “My mom taught me basic bike maintenance when I was a kid,” I say. “My grandfather actually used to work in his father’s bike shop back home before he immigrated to Canada.”
“Where’s back home?” Miles asks. I’m surprised he wants to make small talk.
“Tanzania,” I say. “My grandparents moved here in the seventies.” I hold the tire in front of us. “Next we need to get the inner tube out.” I squeeze around the tire to loosen some slack to make it a bit easier, then use two tire levers to pry the tire out from the rim. “It’s easier if you have three levers. I don’t know where the third lever is.” When one side of the tire is free from the rim, I show Miles how to get the inner tube out.
He’s not saying much, just watching and listening intently while I’m working. When I get the tube out, I hand it to him and then get a bucket from the other side of the balcony. Thanks to all the rain, it’s full of water. After showing him how to use the water to find the hole in the inner tube, I dry the tube and mark the hole with a piece of chalk from the repair kit.
“So, how’d you end up here?” I ask. His silence is starting to get to me.
His eyebrows furrow. “Like, on your balcony?”
“No. I mean how did you end up on Love Street? Reggie told me you’re a university student.”
He nods. “At Toronto Metropolitan. Finished my first year.”
