If I hadn’t been watching her like a hawk, I might have missed the way her voice lowered, and her lips trembled on that last question, and I internally chastised myself. Why couldn’t I just shut the fuck up? Of course, Miranda knows that fitting all of one’s worldly possessions into three suitcases is abnormal. I feel like a complete ass for harping on it for so long. It honestly makes me sad for her. I get that sometimes stuff is just stuff and it’s not important, but everyone has relics and keepsakes from their lives that they want to hold on to for posterity’s sake. Shit, I saved the socks I was wearing when I scored my first game-winning goal as a kid. I still consider them lucky to this day, and I keep them in a safe place in my room.
What’s even more depressing is that I’m pretty sure the majority of the contents of the bags are clothes. Where is the physical proof of her life before Michigan, of her memories as a child, of her friendships and meaningful lived experiences? She’s such a vibrant person. I’d expect a room full of boxes containing souvenirs from her life. I definitely wasn’t expecting this.
I know she hasn’t shared certain parts of her past. The worry lines at the sides of her eyes—begging me not to ask any morequestions as she stands before me—say it all. She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, and there has to be a reason. For someone so seemingly happy, she has a darkness in her past. One thing she’s made clear it’s none of my business.
I swallow the heartache I feel for her and force a smile, not wanting to make her feel any worse. “Well, we’ll have to go shopping,” I say as I pull up the handles on two of the bags. Miranda grabs the third, and we roll the bags out of the hotel room. “I want you to feel at home and not feel like you’re a guest living in my place.”
“I am a guest living at your place, though,” she says, smirking.
“No, you’re my roommate, not a guest. Big difference. And as a roommate, I need you to clutter up the space with things you like. I want you to be happy there.”
We make our way down the hall and stop in front of the elevator. She pushes the down button. “I will be happy there. I’ve never been a materialistic person. I don’t need things, Miles. The way you have it decorated works for me. You have good taste.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” We step into the elevator and start our descent to the lobby. “But your flattery isn’t getting you out of this. We’re redecorating.”
The elevator doors open, and we make our way through the lobby and past the doorman, where my truck waits.
“God, please no,” Miranda huffs, laughing. “My first request as your new roommate is that we don’t go shopping. Let’s just have a chill day.”
“Alright, that’s fair. We’ll add your touches to the place little by little.”
“Whatever makes you happy.” She grins.
“So what do you feel like doing today? Everyone is going to see a movie. We could do that or just hang out at the house.”
“Oh, that’s right. Actually, one of Anna’s bucket-list directors worked on that movie. At first, I was surprised because… it’s a racing movie. But I think it’s more than that—one of those films that’s seemingly simple but has complex themes running throughout. Yeah, we should go and hang out with everyone. That’d be fun.”
“Sounds good. Plus, I hear the main actor is hot.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Always a bonus.”
“So we’ll drop off your bags, head to HomeGoods, and then to the theater.”
“Miles.” She giggles, and the sound makes my stomach flip.
“Okay.” I remove my hands from the steering wheel and flick my palms in a quick surrender before returning them to the wheel. “No HomeGoods.”
“Great.”
We continue the drive in silence as music plays through the truck’s speakers. After a few minutes, Miranda turns her head toward me. “Miles?” Her voice is hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure this whole roomies thing is a good idea? I mean, we’ll be fine, right?”
“Of course we’ll be fine.”
“It’s just, I don’t have many real friends, and I don’t want to lose you.”
A lump of emotion lodges in my throat, and I swallow it down. I give Miranda the most reassuring smile I can. “You’ll never lose me, Sunshine. I promise you that.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
MIRANDA
I’ve been in this truck many times, but this time feels decidedly different. A new and foreign sensation fills my veins, making my heart beat a fraction of a second faster. The destination is a very unfamiliar one, and my entire being is blaringly aware of that. I’m on my way to move in with a boy… for the first time in my life. A part of me suggests it shouldn’t be any different from living with another friend, like Anna. Yet the realistic section of my brain knows it’s very different. It just is.
