Page 60 of Miles Apart
Miles wanted to try out these inner-tube bumper cars and went easy on me, assuming I’d be too bougie to let loose. He quickly learned the hard way not to underestimate me the first time I pushed the pedal to the floor and rammed his car. The man never stood a chance to retaliate, which has me laughing through tears at his frustration.
At the end of our time, our cars stop. I unbuckle myself in a fit of giggles and take off as fast as my designer heels will go. I barely make it ten feet before Miles lifts me off the ground.
“I see you got jokes behind the wheel, Driving Miss Daisy!” He curls me over his shoulder with a smack to the ass.
“Put me down!” I squeal.
“For you to ram me again? Nah.”
Only a few people are here to witness Miles carry me across the pier. At five eight, I’m not small, but he dwarfs me in size.
We reach a burger spot with outdoor seating. Light winds from the water deliver a chill, but it’s nothing an LA hot dog won’t fix.
“Are you sure you’re not cold?” Miles shrugs out of his suit jacket.
“I’m good,” I say through a bite of a crinkle fry. “Thanks again for the hoodie.”
The pink tourist sweatshirt clashes with my outfit but keeps me warm. Miles bought it from a shop right before he won me the cutest stuffed red panda. Football was his sport of choice at Bodie, but his talent also translates to basketball.
Tonight was a pleasant surprise. We spent the last hour and a half hopping on rides and playing games. I didn’t know what to expect coming here, but I don’t mind the change in scenery.
It feels nice to laugh again.
“Thank you for tonight.”
My hair has to be a mess, but Miles looks at me like I just walked off the runway. The corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re welcome.”
“Did you go to lots of carnivals growing up?”
He finishes a bite of his burger and shakes his head. “They didn’t come through my neighborhood, but T and I tried to hit them up with his younger sister if we could.”
From what little I know about Miles’s childhood, he had a rough start and spent a lot of time with Terrence. Their mothers worked multiple shifts as nurses and single moms providing for their families. Terrence’s Dominican grandmother watched him and his sisters—and Miles, from what Justice told me. He doesn’t talk about his past much, and I never had a reason for him to disclose it to me.
“I never went, either,” I say with a shrug. “They were always around Alexandria, but it wasn’t an activity worth an appearance from my parents.”
“They traveled because of your pops?”
“Yes, but they were also particular about what deserved their attention. Spending hours on amusement rides and eating junk wasn’t their idea of a good time.” I wiggle the hot dog in my hand. “These were a staple in Jay’s house. We had them at least once a week.”
What I don’t mention are the excuses I made whenever Justice and her parents would invite me on their family outings, carnivals included. It didn’t feel right to tag along when they’d already opened their home and heart to their daughter’s best friend.
Miles considers me. “You stayed with her a lot?”
I nod and wipe my hands with a napkin. “At least twice a week, whenever my parents were away or stayed out too late. I was safe at home—”
“But you didn’t want to be alone.”
“Something like that.” I force a smile, one he sees right through. “I had a key to her house by the time we hit our sophomore year of high school.” I laugh at the thought. “Pretty wild given my background. I didn’t stay all the time. Didn’t want to impose.”
“I get it. The staying away to not be a burden.” The look on Miles’s face is one I’ve seen in the mirror, and it’s taken years of practice to cover. Wanting to belong.
Something flickers in his brown eyes, but he blinks it away. Miles and I might be from opposites ends of the socioeconomic spectrum, but we’re two kids who clung to their chosen families for different reasons. His mother had no choice but to work multiple jobs that cost her time away from her son. My parents had all the privileges in the world at their fingertips, yet couldn’t afford to stay at home.
We turn away, searching the lights illuminating the pier, far from any plausible explanation for the pull to each other and why the shared truths flow effortlessly.
“So, Friday.”
“Yes,” I say with too much eagerness. “My family and Carter will be there. I don’t plan on staying beyond a quick appearance.”
