“I’m imagining the inquisition I’m gonna get when I come home tonight.”
“I’m gathering you didn’t tell them we were going out tonight,” Myles says. A slight note of uncertainty colors his tone. “Did you think they’d be upset about it?”
“The opposite,” I rush to assure him. “They’ll be very, very interested in this development.”
“That’s kind of nice.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. I don’t think my parents give a shit about my love life. They think dating’s a waste of time that could be spent studying or practicing.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s kind of sad.”
“Yeah.” He starts the car and waves a hand. “Sorry, the last thing I want to talk about is my parents. You, um, you look really pretty.”
I bite my lip and grin. I barely noticed what Myles was wearing, through the commotion with my mom. “Thanks. Youlook good too.” He’s wearing khaki shorts and a short-sleeved collared shirt that matches his eyes. “You always do.”
He twists his lips to the side like he’s trying not to let his smile get too big as he puts the car into drive and pulls forward.
It only takes five minutes to get to the pier, and we chat easily as we make our way toward a parking lot where the food trucks congregate, falling into the same comfortable rhythm we developed over the summer.
There’s only one person in line at the taco truck, so we stand behind him. Myles smiles and studies me, and then reaches up to brush a finger across my bare shoulder. Goose bumps prickle down my arm, and I shiver in the warm air. “Have you always had red in your hair?”
“Oh,” I say, swallowing. “Um, yeah. You can really see it in the sun.”
His eyes track across the strands and land back on my face. “Mmm. I’ve never noticed that before.”
My heart thumps in my chest even while my brain recollects a conversation early in the summer.
What color is that, anyway?
Um, brown?
Nah, I think I see some red in there.
I internally shake myself out of it, because I’m standing here with Myles, not Gregory. Before I can say anything else, we’re called to the window to order, effectively dispelling whatever moment we were having. Once our tacos are ready, we load them with salsa and find an empty picnic table nearby.
“I can’t believe we’re almost done at Pearl’s,” I say, unwrapping my first taco.
“Me either,” he says. “I had no idea I’d like working there so much. But I gotta say, I don’t think it was waiting tables that I liked so much.” His neck flushes as he grins at me.
“I know, my favorite part was standing around brooding with Anders too. Maybe we should get matching Tweety Bird tattoos in his honor.”
Myles pauses with a taco halfway to his mouth and barks out a laugh. “God, that guy. I might ask my parents if I can go live with him if they die.”
“Can you imagine? That house has got to be deadly silent, like, all the time.”
Myles sighs happily. “Just like I like it.” He takes a huge bite.
“That’s right,” I say sternly, as if remembering something serious. “You wouldn’t even have music on, you weirdo.”
He takes this in stride and asks, “Did you ever get that record player you wanted?”
I will not think about listening to music the other night with Gregory. I willnot.
“I did. My room is never quiet. You’d hate it.”
He blushes and looks down.
