Page 21 of Just a Distraction

I scrub my face. I do not want to just walk away from her. Not now, and not tomorrow, either. “Can I ask why?”

“We both know what this is.”

“We both know what this is?” I repeat while staring into her eyes. “I don’t.”

She just glares and shakes her head. She tilts her head back and takes in the sky.

“From my perspective,” I say. “It’s two people who have no reason not to continue their friendship moving forward. See where this thing goes. What’s the harm in that?”

“Milo, I can’t do that. We come from vastly different backgrounds. My life is very complicated. And I’m going away to school.” She pauses to take a deep breath. “Please trust me when I say I can’t have a friendship or more than friendship with you.”

Rejection. It hits my gut so swiftly, I nearly gasp. I manage not to, but my heart thuds in my ears.

I’ve dated some, and I’ve been rejected by some. But nothing’s ever felt like this.

“I agree to your terms,” I say. “But only because you’re making me. But I have to know: are you sure you’re into me?”

“What?” Her bottom lip drops open.

“You said in a different life—”

“You’re handsome and kind and intelligent. You have a successful family.”

“And a nice body, admit it.”

Her hazel eyes sparkle. “Fine. I can admit it. You have a nice body. But we can’t see each other after tonight.”

“I understand. I just want to be very clear in my memories that we had something, if only for one night.”

“Ooh. Dramatic. I like it.” She grins. “But yes. If circumstances were different, I’d totally go for it.” She drags her gaze up and down me, her eyes challenging me. “Remember, you can’t come see me. Don’t make it weird.”

I chuckle. “I won’t.”

“You want a turn swinging?”

I grab the red, bucket-shaped baby swing and read the permanent tag. “For ages six months to three years. Might work.”

She stands from her swing, letting it hit softly against her legs before joining me. She sighs. “This one is a different material than others I’ve seen.” She squeezes the smooth, padded surface. “This is not the baby swing of yesteryear, Milo.”

“How do you know so much about swings?”

She hesitates and clears her throat. “I don’t know, because they certainly didn’t have this when I was coming here with my sisters. This is an upgrade.”

I tug on the chains a couple of times, wondering if it could hold my weight. “Hey, this is actually a decent size.”

She inhales and holds up a finger. “No. Do not try to get in this swing.”

I shrug. “I’m not going to actually get in. I know ‘baby got back.’ My butt’s way too big for this, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” I make a show of craning my head to measure my posterior visually. She laughs. “But I could sort of stand on the top rim and crouch down and bend at the knees. Then you and I could swing side by side.”

Her brows go in the air. “Like we’re an old married couple sitting on a porch swing in the twilight of our lives?”

“Exactly.”

She snorts. “Go ahead and try. It’s your funeral.”

I face away from the swing, stretch my hands high above my head and grasp both of the chains, pulling myself up like I’m at the pull-up bar at the gym.

I settle on top of the soft, plastic rim with both feet. I’m glad I’m wearing my Vans because I think they’re providing enough grip so that I don’t slip off. I jiggle my body back and forth, making Rose laugh and shake her head.

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