I continue around the space, Myles watching me with interest from his perch on the counter. On the wall map I can see a bunch of marks and lines, charting some kind of journey. Turning to my left, I spot an old piano tucked behind the bedroom partition, out of sight of the door. There’s a stack of large framed photographs leaning against it, as if waiting to be hung. I set my bottle down and run a finger along the closed lid of the piano. Dust gathers under my fingertip.
“That was here when I moved in,” Myles says, raising his tumbler to his lips.
A sad little smile lifts my mouth as I push the lid up and plunk on a couple of the out-of-tune keys.
“You play?” He hops down off the counter and wanders over.
“My dad used to play.” I’m hit with a flashback of us sitting around the piano at Christmas, singing along to Dad’s drunken mish-mash of Christmas carols. So long ago.
“Used to?” Myles asks gently, leaning on the partition wall beside me.
“Yeah.” I tap another piano key. “Before he left us.”
Myles is quiet, creases of compassion around his eyes.
“Well, he’s dead now.” I slam the piano lid shut and Myles jumps. “Heart attack. But he was pretty much dead to me the day he left.” Because when you’re eight and you watch your father walk out on his family knowing he’s not coming back, what’s the point in keeping any love for him alive?
I inhale a deep breath, forcing the memories from my brain. I don’t go there often, and I’m not going to go there now.
My gaze falls to the framed photographs. They’re not your usual shots of families or dogs or whatever; they’re shots of the city. But it’s not the city tourists see. It’s details that most people miss or even try to overlook: graffiti on a brick wall, the crumbling facade around a window, a fire-escape zig-zagging down the front of a building with shattered windows.
“These are cool,” I say, flicking through the frames. In the bottom corner of each is a signature:M. Ellis.
“Thanks.” A smile peeks around the edge of his mouth. “They’re mine.”
“Youtook these?”
He nods, twisting the lid open on his bottled water.
“Wow.” I'm both amazed by his work and stuck on this new piece of him—Ellis.Myles Ellis.I wordlessly roll the name around on my tongue as I crouch to look over the images again more closely. Each one has something unexpected about it that draws your focus and makes you look twice. He has a real eye for spotting beauty in the most broken, overlooked places. “You should hang these.”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
I straighten up, considering giving him the same speech he gave me about hiding my dresses, but decide against it. Silence settles around us, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be in here. It might be a bit Spartan, but it’s not awful at all.
“So…” Myles gestures to his bed. “Shall we?”
I glance at the bed, then back at him, narrowing my eyes.
He laughs, pushing away from the wall and reaching to retrieve his laptop from where it is half-tucked under the comforter.
“Oh,” I say on a nervous titter. “You pointed to the bed and I thought…” I gulp the rest of my words down with my water.
Shit. What the hell was that?
His eyebrows climb his forehead. “We could, if you like. I know it’s been—what was it? A year?” He chuckles, wandering over to the sofa.
Heat streaks across my cheeks as I stare at him in disbelief. He’s teasing me aboutthat? I knew it was only a matter of time until that came up. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, setting my bottle down.
He’s still laughing as he opens his laptop, but when his gaze shifts back to me, he sees my embarrassment and cringes. “Sorry, I was just kidding.”
I thrust my hands up into my hair, groaning in frustration. Ireallywish he hadn’t heard me say that. It’s like he now knows a secret weakness he can use against me.
I’m about to make some smart quip about Shane when Myles turns his laptop around to show me the screen. “Come see what I’ve been working on.”
I stomp over and lower myself onto the sofa, making sure to keep a healthy distance between us as he hands me the laptop.
“So these are the colors I’m thinking. Fun, with a bit of a retro vibe.” He leans across to scroll down. “And fonts like this.”
