Page 21 of Promise Me Sunshine

We’re interrupted when a couple stumbles out the door, sweaty and clasping hands, teetering and knocking sideways into Miles.

“Sorry, dude,” the guy says over the girl’s head.

Miles gives him a silent appraisal so slow, so diminishing that the guy can’t help but shrink three inches.

“Wesaidsorry,” the girl snaps.

“Okay,” Miles replies, completely flat. He turns to face me and boxes them out of his life forever.

For that, he gets four middle fingers spearing toward his back.

I snort.

“You know, you say you want me to talk to you about my feelings, but you’re not the best at conversation, Miles.” I make a meaningful nod toward the couple attempting to make out while they walk away.

He glances between them and me. “Was I rude?” He looks suddenly perplexed.

I almost laugh. “You really don’t know what your face looks like, huh?”

He’s glowering again. “I know I’m not good with people. I’m not…gentle. But I don’t think you need someone gentle.”

“Oh, is that right?” Now he knows what I need. How cute.

“Yeah, that’s right. You needstrong.You need someone who can stop you from fighting large men on the street. You need someone who can wade in and pull you out of the swamp if you need me to. And I can be that person.” He’s tapping on his own chest as he talks, and weirdly I can feelthose taps echoing through my own rib cage. “I am not easy to shake off, Lenny. Look at Reese, she hasn’t figured out how to. I’m stubborn. If you need to cross things off your list to survive, I’ll do that. I can carry someone on my back if I have to.” He takes a step forward and I stop breathing. He puts one palm on my shoulder and squeezes. A firm hold that reminds me I’m a citizen of Earth and belong right here, on the ground. “If we do this, I willnotlet you drown.”

I gasp for air. He’s winded me. The water rushes in. Is it silly that I didn’t realize I was drowning until he told me he won’t let it happen?

Apparently hedoesknow what I need. How frustrating.

Overwhelmed, I crouch down again and tug at my hair and see spots and almost scream. He waits.

When I stand up again I can feel my bloodshot eyes, my sticking-up hair, my backpack falling off one shoulder. I gesture to it all. “You really think you can handle this? I’m not just gonna need atissueevery now and then. I need someone to, like, make me waffles and then not bat an eye when I punch those waffles in the face.”

“Violence toward waffles. Got it.”

“Seriously. You don’t want this. I’ll scar you.”

“Oh, my God. Everybody thinks they’re so unique. I’ll be useful. I promise.” He fixes my backpack strap. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Look,” I say. “Pretty much theonlything that’s keeping me together right now is the fact that I haven’t taken anybody else down in flames. It’swhyI’m only doing short-term gigs. It’s why I’m avoiding my parents. So just, please, read the caution tape and save yourself.”

He’s giving me that narrowed look again. “Let me get an audition, then.”

“Huh?”

“Let me see the list.” He wags his hand at me until I dig it out of my pocket and hand it over. “Oh. This one.” He snaps a finger against the list. “Easy. We’ll do this one. Tonight. If you…enjoy my company, then you’ll consider the deal. If you don’t, we’ll go our separate ways.”

He’s nothing if not persistent.

He’s five strides down the sidewalk before he turns back. “Follow me,” he says.

And for the second time that night, I do.

—

Ten minutes laterwe’re still power walking toward some unknown destination and I’m flailing and sweating and out of breath.

Miles glances down at me. “Maybe we add a little cardio to the list.”

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