Page 16 of Tourist Trap

He stares at me as if he’s trying to understand what I’m saying before he shakes his head.

“You haven’t seen any?”

He shakes his head again before finally speaking. “No, I have a few times. You can see them if the ocean is super warm and it’s still pretty cold out there. As you know.”

I can’t help the small smile that comes to my lips. “Yeah, I guess.”

He’s silent as he steps further into what is now my room, stopping at the white dresser where I laid out all of my shells. I don’t know exactly why I packed them up and brought them, but I like seeing them, and I suppose that’s a good enough reason.

“What are these?” he asks, touching a dark blue scallop shell delicately, his fingers barely grazing over it.

“My shell collection,” I say with a smile. “You should recognize most of them.” He turns to me, a bit confused, and I smile wider. “Since you were there every time I found the good ones. You’re basically my lucky charm.”

Miles continues to stare at me for long moments before he seems to snap out of some kind of daze, averting his eyes back to the shells. “Hmm,” he mumbles.

The urge to continue to pull conversation out of him the way I’ve always done tugs at me, and I move, sitting on the edge of my bed and chatting. “It’s on my list, you know.”

“Your list?” he asks, stepping away from the dresser.

I lift my phone where a photo of the list I made with June lives and wave it toward him. “My list of things I want to do this summer. I’m planning on getting the full beach bum experience.” He gives me a look, and I’m surprised when he speaks instead of just moving past it to whatever he actually came in here to ask me about. “Anything I should add?” I ask, looking at him.

“Add?” he asks, confused as always.

“Anything you think I should add to my list?” He stares at me blankly, and I laugh. “What do you do for fun around here in the summer? I’m sure you havesomethingI can add.”

“I don’t do things for fun,” he says quickly, then instantly a mask comes over his face like evenheknows that was the wrong answer.

I tip my head to the side curiously. “What do you mean you don’t do things for fun? You’re human.”

“I don’t…” He hesitates, then runs a hand over his hair, his tell that he’s uncomfortable, and shrugs. “I don’t know. I work a lot.”

“So you don’t doanythingfor yourself?”

He shakes his head to argue. “No, no, I do.” I raise an eyebrow because suddenly, I don’t believe him, not at all. “I surf,” he says.

“Don’t you teach surf lessons?”

“How do you know I teach surf lessons?” he asks, and I fight the blush that burns over my cheeks. I will not be admitting to Miles that I have spent the past six summers taking note of everything I can about him.

“I saw your ad in the rec center,” I say, which isn’t a complete lie. “But teaching lessons isn’t fun. When was the last time you surfed for yourself?”

He stares at me for long moments, and I know the answer is obviously long enough that he can’t easily remember, and something about that hurts my heart. Miles, who is constantly helping everyone and anyone who needs it, doesn’t take time for himself. He shakes his head and stands up straight, clearly not interested in this conversation.

“It doesn’t matter, enough about me. I came up here for a reason.”

I smile at him. “It wasn’t just to be a friendly roommate?”

He glares at me in response, pushing off the wall and standing up straight again. “I think we should go over the rules.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him, lips tilting with a smile. “Rules?” He nods, crossing his arms on his chest as if he’s ready to argue with me. “You should know now, I’m not great at rules. You can ask my dad. They always make me feel this unexplainable urge to do the opposite.”

He shakes his head as if erasing some thought from it before he stands up straighter like he means business. “Rule number one, no parties.”

“Bummer. I hope I can get my deposit back on the three kegs for next weekend.”

He glares but continues with his rules. “No pets.”

I look around the room as if I’m looking for one, then brush a hand over my forehead with fake relief. “Good thing I left my hedgehog at home.”

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