Miller glances up at me from his crouch, sleeves of his tux buckling as he gathers everything I spilled when I dropped my purse. I think the alcohol might have dulled my motor skills, too.
A wave of his hair curls over his forehead, almost lazy, like it had too much champagne, too. “All good. It was an accident.”
“I meant the snort.” I tap my nose.
“Why are you sorry for that?” He’s got his eyes back on the porch, picking up my wallet, keys, lip gloss and a plastic raptor claw Imani gave me as a joke in case I needed it for self-defence on the subway.
I frown, squashing my nose underneath my fingertip. “Because it’s annoying.”
“No, it’s not.” He huffs a laugh, dropping the claw back into my purse and pushing to stand. His fingers whisper over mine when he passes it to me. “It’s cute.”
“Oh.” I breathe through a wobbling smile when I take my bag back.
He lifts a brow with a slow, unimpressed shake of his head. “I’d ask who told you that, but I don’t think I need to.”
“He thought it was stupid. That it sounded ... ugly, I guess.” I shrug, shame curving my shoulders inward while I fiddle with the keypad on my front door.
Miller’s gaze sharpens, and the Atlantic blue of his eyes get swallowed by his pupils when he drags them down my body. “There’s nothing stupid or ugly about you.”
My heart hasn’t tripped over a boy or a man in a very long time. But it does when he looks at me like that.
It tries to beat, and it falters, catching itself on my ribs and entirely unsure what to do with such a foreign feeling of something good.
I don’t know what to do with it either, so I hold up my purse. “Messy, though.”
“Not really,” he says, voice low.
Glancing over my shoulder when I push the door open, I try to smile. “You didn’t have to walk me home.”
“Yeah, I did.” He reaches out to hold the door, and when I take a stumbling step into the house, his other hand finds the small of my back. “Careful.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, squinting down at my feet that seem like they might be shifting underneath me. The floor swirls suspiciously, too.
“Stop apologizing.” He taps a thumb against the silk of my dress, and even though everything feels like it’s twisting and turning, I feel it burn across the skin of my back.
“I usually have a lot of things to be sorry for.” I shrug, dropping my purse to the ground.
“Like what? Your laugh?” He glances at me, and I think the lines of his face seem sad. “That on your list, too?”
“Yeah.” I snort, waving a hand. “It’s on Ren’s List of Reasons Not to Be Ren.”
“I thought you said it was called Ren’s Remains.” His hand drops from my back, and he lets me walk on my own, stumbling into my house, but he follows close behind when I wander into the kitchen for a glass of water.
“I don’t know.” My fingers slip over the tap, but I squint in concentration, and I hold up the full water glass like I’ve won something with a smile. Miller’s cheek twitches. “It’s really just a list of things Scott didn’t like about me that eventually ... I started hating too.”
The amused twitch turns to the tick of a muscle, and whatever he was about to say dies on those full lips when I try to walk forward on my heels, but my ankle buckles.
His hands are on me, one wrapped around my wrist, and the other pressing against the bare skin between my shoulder blades. “Come on, I’ll help you. Where’s your room?”
I give a half-hearted point beyond the kitchen, to another narrow hallway leading to the back of my house.
I don’t stumble again with him guiding me—a light pressure from his skin against mine. Not really steering me, just ... helping.
He says nothing but uses his elbow to turn on the light in my room.
I wait for the admonishment. Or maybe even the bark of laughter and words that are supposed to be congenial, kind and funny, when he admits, “Maybe you are messy,” as he takes in the haphazardly made bed, the white duvet carelessly pulled up to the pillows, the precarious stack of books on my nightstand, the glass of water left over from last night, the half-open drawers still draped with clothes, or the plant that’s seen better days on my windowsill.
But he stays silent, helping until I drop to the edge of my bed, reaching out for my heels but I give up with a quiet groan. “This is so embarrassing.”
