Page 68 of Promise Me Sunshine

“In order to celebrate Jericho agreeing to go to the concert with you, you want me to get glasses? That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Look, you made me invite Jericho, which I didn’t originally wanna do, because it was good for me. So now you’re gonna do something you don’t wanna do because, you guessed it! It’s good for you. Tit for tat, baby! You’re finally getting a real taste of what it means to be a part of my life!”

He’s not impressed with this. “I’m not going in there. You can’t make me get glasses.”

“Yes, you are. And yes, I can.” Actually, turns out I can’t. I plant my feet and shove at his back with all my might. The only thing this accomplishes is me eventually sagging, elbows planted on his butt while I breathe for dear life.

“Are you having fun back there?” he asks dryly.

“Miles, we came all the way here! Now go!” I plant my hands and push again.

“I don’t need glasses,” he asserts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You can’t even read the label on the pickle jar in your fridge, you stubborn arse!”

“Who needs to read that? Pickles. That’s what it says. No reading required.”

I give up on pushing, because clearly he’s made of cement and never thought to tell me. Instead I veer around to the front of him, uncross his arms, and take one of his hands in mine. I expect to have to tug as hard from the front as I had to push from the back, but to my great surprise, he comes easily along in my wake. I pause and blink at our linked hands. Apparently this is the key to getting him to do stuff. Noted.

The bell above the door dings as we go through and a ridiculously hot saleswoman in oversized glasses turns in slowmotion, wind tousling her blond hair, cleavage tastefully straining against the buttons of her blouse.

They must sell a shit ton of glasses here.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes. Please,” I say. “He needs an eye exam and a pair of glasses. Make it two pairs of glasses. You know what? Let’s be on the safe side and say an even twelve.”

She laughs. “Let me see if the optometrist has time for an exam.”

Miles and I peruse glasses while we wait. Well, I peruse glasses. Miles stands in one spot and glowers at me. A moment later an equally hot woman emerges, also in glasses, though she’s wearing a lab coat and has her black hair twisted into a bun at the top of her head.

“I have time to see you now, sir,” the hot optometrist says with a friendly smile.

Miles looks back at me plaintively.Don’t make me go,his puppy of an expression says.

“Go with the nice lady,” I tell him.

He doesn’t move.

I raise my finger and point at the doorway she’s disappeared through. He drops his head and drags his feet as he follows behind her.

The saleslady laughs. She’s leaning over a display case, chin resting on her palm. “You two are cute together.”

“Thanks,” I say. There’s no reason to correct her. Miles and Iarecute together, even though it’s not in the way she means. “So.” I clap my hands together and rub them up and down. “Let’s try on some glasses.”

Twenty-five minutes later Miles finds me and Tanya the saleslady laughing our asses off while I try on a truly heinous pair of metal frames. We’ve eliminated eight different frameshapes for my face. We’ve yet to find one that looks good. Thank God for Lasik if my vision ever changes.

“You’re back!” I grin at him from behind the teeny-tiny frames. He walks up to me and pushes them back up my nose.

“I have 20/20 vision, I’ll have you know.”

My jaw drops. “You havegotto be—”

“But I’m ridiculously farsighted and I need reading glasses,” he mumbles.

“I knew it!” I slap the counter. “Tanya, let’s find this man a pair of cheaters.”

“Hmm,” Tanya says, surveying him thoughtfully. She dips below the counter and pops back up with a pair of thick black frames. “Let’s start with these.”

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