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‘You’re a shitty optimist.’
My eyes roll. ‘I’m unsurprised you consider this an issue. I understand the bright side is a trigger for you.’
‘No, the optimism isn’t the issue. The issue is that you refuse to see things optimistically if they relate to your person. You see and think the best of everyone else, but not yourself.’
Suddenly I feel so achingly seen. His eyes boring into me feel like bullets finding their way through years worth of carefully placed armour.
‘Why do you do that?’ His head tilts, and his eyes pinch like he’s trying to figure me out.
‘I—’ I start, but find myself bereft of an explanation that doesn’t make me sound like I’m fishing for compliments. The truth is, I’m not good. I’m selfish. And I don’t think I deserve to be perceived as anything other than what I am.
Feeling all too exposed, I mutter, ‘Why do you care?’
Belatedly he says, ‘I don’t.’
‘Obviously.’
His jaw tenses and he fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. ‘I did make that obvious, didn’t I?’
The smile I give him is strained. The way he watches me is far too discerning.
‘I’m—’ he starts and stops, before releasing his cuff to rub his jaw. ‘I have a difficult job. It doesn’t always allow me to be who I’d like to be.’
I study him as closely as he does me. ‘Who would you like to be Walker?’
His pupils are blown; I can barely see the green. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. His eyes flit down before he focuses all his attention on a local shrub he’s suddenly taken an interest in.
‘You should be kinder to yourself, Miller.’ He picks at the leaves. If I didn't know any better, I’d say he was fidgeting. ‘You’re not terrible. I would know.’ His brows raise. ‘You don’t deserve your own ire,’ he says, and then he keeps on walking.
We don’t speak again. The quiet is nice. I like it. Usually, I’d try to fill it, but I don’t feel gripped by the desire to ruin this tentative peace we walk in. I want to lean in instead. Right now, I find myself wanting quite a lot.
We walk the final leg of the journey back to the house in a strange sort of static that rests between us and grows. Delilah is parked in the driveway. Fast friends, those two. Must be nice.
Lavender catches us walking together and her pretty face lights up. I turn to see who she’s all lit up for before I realise belatedly, it’s me. She waves me over, branches flailing with enthusiasm. My smile just about splits my cheeks in two. And there’s this feeling in my chest that grows and swells. It feels scary. It feels lovely. I think it might be contentment.
Walker walks with me until we’re only a few paces away from them.
‘I assume you’ll be joining the hellions.’
The hellions. I like it.
‘Yes.’
‘Right.’
Everything is so functional with him. It’s so pointed and purposeful. Every word feels like it’s being counted. Sometimes I envy him. I wish I could learn to shut my mouth. Other times, I think it must be so very difficult to exist in such hard lines. In such a boxed state of mind. Purpose is good, but I quite like doing things for no reason. Walker’s not like that. He won’t speak unless there’s a reason to speak. I don’t think he would even wish me—
‘Goodnight,’ he offers like he can’t understand the word. But still, he says it anyway. Because? I’m not sure.
‘Goodnight, Walker,’ I return. If he weren’t a ghost I might do something reckless and heinous, like kiss his cheek. Luckily for both of us, his incorporeal state steals the possibility. I walk towards the girls. He leaves when I look back over my shoulder.
Chapter Nineteen
The Dancing Lesson
‘That is disgusting.’
‘I don’t know…’ I reply, stroking my chin in contemplation. Two and three quarters deep into VVV, we’ve reached the infamous Elvish Presley impersonation competition episode. If the trailer for tonight was anything to go by, sparks will be flying.
