Page 236 of Wrath

"Shit, it's like a hotel in here,” Mills says.

"Pretty much. With more sweat."

"How does this place not smell like a locker room?"

I give Josh a no-shit look, popping one eyebrow up. "Because I bathe. And wear deodorant."

"I guess your room in Fairplay was always pretty neat and stuff,” he muses.

"Was it? What was it like?"

Mills pulls up some pictures. I turn on my side to face him better, running a fingertip under his eye. "I like the room," I tell him. "Did you pick the stuff out for me?"

He laughs.

"What?" I ask.

"Just you saying you like it,” he says. “Are you sure you're not a clone imposter or something?"

"I didn't like it before?” My stomach slow rolls. “Did I actually say that?"

"Uh, yeah. You gave me shit about a lot of stuff in the room."

"I did?"Fuck. I know I was pretty fucked up, but I remain disappointed that I was such a dick to Miller. Every day, it's more and more clear that he's the nicest guy in the world.

I look at the picture again. "I like the art over the bed. And what about that football pillow?" I ask as my heart starts to pound.

"Yes, that’s a crocheted football pillow. Which I made. I tried to pass it off as my mom's, and it's true it was her idea. But she got busy, and I finished it for you. You thought that was pretty funny. Ragged me."

My eyes well up as I blink down at his phone’s screen. "Guess I was pretty fucking full of shit, because I can crochet." I laugh.

“You can?” He frowns, looking confused.

"Learned it at Sheppard Pratt my first stay. Sometimes they'll let you knit and crochet. See over there, on the second-to-last shelf on that book case? Gray yarn for a scarf. I was thinking if I got the nerve up to meet you, I'd give it to you."

"Really?"

"Really, Millsy. You know what else really?"

“What?” he whispers.

“I brought that pillow with me. In fact—” I get up off the bed, and open my nightstand drawer. “I have it right here.”

“I think you liked it in the end,” he tells me.

“I saw it in my room at Mom’s. When I went back up there to get my Jeep, the pillow was one of the only things I grabbed.” I hug the thing to my chest, sitting back on the bed. “So…you made this for me?”

“I did.” He smiles softly.

“You’re artistic.”

He looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

"What, did I insult your art, too? You wanna sprinkle holy water on me and we'll do an exorcism?"

Miller laughs. "You said the art was good. But you snoopedwithout asking, and I didn’t like that. At the time,” he adds with a smirk.

"Fuck."

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