Page 122 of Promise Me Sunshine

He puts his head on the bed next to my pillow, stacking his hands under his chin. “Live with Regis and Kathie Lee,huh?”

I laugh. “That’s how you know you’ve hit the big time.”

“I once had a dream that I got to meet the queen of England but when I got to the front of the line, I handed her a burrito instead. And then I took it back and ate it.”

I’m laughing more. “That actually explains a lot about you.”

We’re inches away from each other’s smiles and I’m just happy to be here. He reaches down and untwists the blankets, pulling them up over my shoulder. When he’s done tucking me in, his hand gets heavy and just rests against me.

“When did you get this?” he asks. His hand leaves my shoulder and migrates upward, his thumb gently tracing my eyebrow piercing. It makes my stomach swoop, this casual exploration, this confident line-crossing, like he knows he’s welcome on the other side.

“A couple years ago,” I say on a whisper, because if I talk at a normal volume, he’ll hear the tremble. “No big story there. I just thought my face was too boring without it.”

He gives me a laughing frown. “Boring? Come on.”

I shrug, affecting nonchalance, even though he’s still tracing my eyebrow and my heart is racing so hard I can no longer feel my fingertips. “Too ordinary, then.”

He gets a knowing look. “You’re fishing for compliments.”

“Well.” I dislodge one finger from under the pillow and poke at his shoulder. “Oblige me.”

“Not boring,” he says, and traces that thumb down my nose. He gets to my lips and hesitates. His eyes meet mine. “Not ordinary.” His thumb sweeps across my lower lip.

And just like that, “not ordinary” becomes perhaps the highest compliment of my life. How sad. I should probably have higher expectations, but how could I when he’s looking at me likethat.As if he’s made of honey and he’d like to give it all to me.

“Yes, yes.” I rush to make a joke so he can’t see my aching heart. “Moderately attractive. That’s me.”

His nostrils flare with a silent laugh. “Whatever you say.”

“Mediocre at best, but you can’t win ’em all.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Nothotas much as tepid, but then again, some people like that.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just call me passably adequate—mmmf.”

He pinches my lips closed. “Lenny, when I look at your face, I feel like I’m finally home after a really long day at work.”

I immediately turn my face into my pillow and attempt to withstand rapture. Because making someone feel like they’re home is so much better than being told I’m pretty. I come up for air. “I hear that ages well.”

“Hm.” He’s laid his head down on his arm now, so it’s almost like we’re lying in this bed together.

“You’ll age well too, I think.” I reach forward and trace the line between his eyebrows. His crow’s feet. His eyes fall closed and I skim the fringe of his lashes.

“I should go,” he murmurs, not seeming like he actually wants to leave at all.

My eyes are drifting closed, the world blurs, and when I blink them open Miles is looking at me. When I blink them open again a few minutes later he’s not looking at me. He’s got his little Nancy Drew notebook out and he’s making a line in it.

“What’s that?” I ask.

He jolts. “Thought you were sleeping.”

“What were you writing?” I reach for it but he flips it closed and quickly slides it into his back pocket.

“Not important.”

---