“I always knew he was a unique one,” Rajit says. “Miles is my kindred spirit. A sign reader, like me. Are you a sign reader, Sana?” I have no idea what Rajit is talking about. He laughs. “There are two kinds of people—sign readers and people who can move through the world without the unignorable urge to read every sign they see.”
I’m still confused. “What kind of signs?” I glance at Miles, and he looks a little embarrassed, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Any sign,” Rajit says. “Street signs, new restaurants, billboards. This guy.” He puts his hand on Miles’s shoulder briefly. “He’s big on historical plaques. I remember when we all went to Montreal when Miles was a little kid, and his mother had to ban him from reading signs. Every two steps in Old Montreal, he had to read the whole plaque about what happened there. Museums take three times as long with him.”
Miles is still a cute shade of pink. I can totally see little Miles reading every historical sign he sees. I remember his comment so long ago about how there should be a plaque at LOL Park commemorating that Lionel Love guy.
“And it’s not just historical signs,” Rajit continues. “You know those signs that they put up at constructionsites talking about what’s going to happen? He’ll cross a busy intersection so he can study those.”
“Notice of Proposed Development Application signs,” Miles says. “They’re to let the public know that someone has put in an application to change the zoning for a site.”
I smile. I get why Rajit is telling me all this. Miles’s curiosity… his drive to understand everything about a place and its history and how future changes can impact the people who live there is why Miles is amazing. It’s what makes him…him. It’s only making me like him more.
Our food arrives then, and Rajit leaves us alone to eat. As Miles promised, the food is all excellent. The balance of flavors is completely on point—the right amount of acidity, the perfect amount of spice, and a touch of sweetness in the fresh yogurt that brings it all together. I moan after popping another pani puri in my mouth.
“Good, right?”
“Better than good. I wish this place were closer. Actually, that might be dangerous.”
“Yeah, it’s probably a good thing that I can’t eat here every day.”
“Rajit seems great.”
“He is. I told you, he’s more of a friend than family.”
“I’m glad you have that here. I mean…” I don’t know how to say this. I exhale. “I understand how horrible it feels when you’re an afterthought to your parents. Finding someone who has your backisas good as gold.”
Miles smiles at that. “Did your parents treat you like an afterthought when they split?”
“My father did.” I sigh. “It’s complicated. My mom and I get along, but we’re not, like, super tight or anything.And my dad… That’s a whole other issue. I like what your uncle said—that the people who are real, who support you because theywantto, not because they feel they have to—those are the important people. It’s like my Love Street people. Jenn, Julie, Ajit, April, Cara. Even Mrs. Kotch. We have our own little found family. And now you’re one of us too. Whether you want to be or not. You’re stuck with us.”
He laughs. “Somehow I think I should be grateful for getting stuck with all of you.”
“All of us?” I ask coyly.
And he grins. “One of you more than others.”
“I’m happy to be stuck with you, too, Miles Desai.”
That night I have an idea. Something that I want to surprise Miles with at the festival. I do some research online to see if it’s possible, and unfortunately, I don’t think there’s enough time.
Unless… maybe Su Lin Tran can help fast-track it for me. I send her an email.
This will show him how grateful I am to him. Miles deserves this for opening my eyes to all the potential in this city.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONECOMPLETE RELATIONSHIP BLISS
The next three weeks go by in a blur because we’re incredibly busy with the festival preparations. Vendors are approved, rentals finalized, and entertainment is lined up. After the logo is approved, April and Julie do an amazing job on all the marketing assets, signage, and pole banners. We did have to pay for rush printing in order to get the items on time, but Ajit has an uncle with a print shop, so we still got a deal. We partner with Ali, that guy I met at Riverdale Park, to get official T-shirts made, and I put up notices at my school asking for volunteers for the day of the festival, so we have plenty of teens looking to get the community service hours they need to graduate lined up.
The park installation preparations are going well, too. Mom bought the eight-foot, heart-shaped floral frame, and ordered flowers in pink, red, and white with a few accents of yellow and purple. We decided to focus on inexpensive “filler” flowers to keep the cost down, but I have no doubt that we can make them into something spectacular. I do a digital painting of the planned sculpture and upload it to the Love on Love Street social media channels, which are already buzzing with excitement from so many Toronto bloggers and influencers.
Somewhere in those chaotic three weeks, I had my high school graduation, which felt weird. Anytime Mom and Dad are in the same room ends up feeling like that. They sat together, maybe to make a show of putting their dislike of each other aside for my benefit, but honestly, their tight smiles and fake civility were so transparent. Noureen’s fakeness was particularly nauseating. I honestly cannot be expected to live in the same house with her in September.
Miles and I have also officially been a couple for three weeks. He wanted to come to my graduation too, but it seemed too soon to have him at a family event, and I didn’t want to subject him to the awkward tension in my family, especially when he’s got his own to deal with.
We see each other at the festival meetings, of course. And we squeeze time alone whenever we can, usually after work. We spend a lot of time hanging out on my balcony drinking tea at night. I wish we could be alone somewhereindoors, since Mom is usually waiting inside when we’re out there, but for now the balcony will have to do. Despite the hectic few weeks, I don’t remember ever being happier.
“I can’t believe the festival is infourdays,” I say. We’re sitting on the wood floor of my balcony, with him against the brick wall next to the door and me between his legs, leaning on his chest. I’m so content that I’m practically purring like Zuri.
