Myles: I really meant are you still awake, haha, sorry
Myles: my brother made me watch the newest final destination movie with him and it really freaked me out
Me: Those movies are so messed up!
Myles: right
Myles: I figured maybe you owed me for distracting you when margarine was sick
Me: Wow, and here I thought you were just a nice guy
Myles: I have many sides, and I like to think most of them are nice. but one of them is currently hoping his favorite coworker will convince him he doesn’t need to sleep with the hall light on like he’s 7 years old again
Me: Hahaha
Me: TBH I wouldn’t blame you if you did, that movie is pretty gnarly.
Myles: I came here so you’d talk to me about something else, amelia!
Me: Sorry, sorry! Okay… something happy to think about…
Me: What was the best part of your day?
Three dots appear on my screen, then disappear, like he’s typing and deleting.
Myles: the waves were awesome this morning, so that, maybe
Myles: but I think I’ve smiled the most texting you
I suck in a breath and clutch my phone to my chest.
Myles: was that too much?
Me: No. Because same.
Myles: where’d you disappear to last night? at the bonfire?
Me: Me? You’re the one who wandered off first.
Myles: sorry about that. chuck needed help unloading a keg and by the time I got back you were gone.
Me: I didn’t go far, just walking on the beach with a friend.
Myles: i guess i’ll just have to look for you a little harder next time
Oh my God. I tuck my lips between my teeth and glance up, absolutely giddy. My eye catches on a candid of Kat and me on my photo wall, and I quickly redirect my gaze. Pretending I didn’t see it, I start typing again.
Me: I hope you do
“I decided what I’m unreasonably knowledgeable about.”
Myles greets me with this the second I walk into Pearl’s the next day. I stare at him, thinking,I was up until one o’clock texting with you. What is this world I’m living in? He’s wearing a pale blue Pearl’s tee that brings out his eyes, and his nose and upper cheeks are pink, like he didn’t put enough sunscreen on yesterday. How does he make his hair look so perfect all the time, sort of swept to the side like a runway model—
“Amelia?” he asks, probably wondering if I’ve gone into some sort of trance.
“What? S-sorry,” I stammer, recovering quickly. “I’ll do you a solid and won’t point out that it took you forever to figure this out. What is it?”
He laughs as he walks with me toward the office to drop my stuff. I catch a glimpse of his dimple. It’s like a secret prize I win every time he smiles. “I’ll warn you now, it’s weird.”
