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His words bounce around my head.
I'm not a fan of the wordaccidentallyin his sentence, but I don't let myself dwell. The fact that he wants to come up with rules means he wants to stay friends. That's a good thing.
It's a good thing, Autumn. Calm down.
I shake it off with more of that false confidence.
“Okay. No flirting, no cuddling, or the other person has to remove themselves from the situation?” I can’t believe how easily it flies out of me, especially because the memories of my body wrapped around his choose this moment to flash through my mind. I don’t know how capable I’d be of removing myself if that happened again.
“Yeah, basically.” He nods. “Maybe no hanging out past ten o’clock. That seems to be when we act up.”
“‘Act up,’” I repeat, and laugh.
Equally amused, he laughs with me.
But then he reaches out and puts his hand on mine. It’s so unexpected that I startle a little in my seat.
“For the record, you’re kind of my best friend.”
If hearts could spontaneously explode, mine would do it right now. I want to tell him how adorable he is, and tell him that rules are overrated, but I don’t.
I point to his hand on mine.
“That’s probably against the rules.” I joke to distract from the emotion that his words overwhelm me with.
He smirks before he pulls his hand away.
“You’re one of mine, too. I can’t call youthebestone, or my girls would try to take you out. They’re not fans of competition.”
16
Autumn
“What are you reading?” Miles asks, standing a few feet away in my living room.
“Some romance novel.” I show him the cover of the book in my hand.
Definitely something I should put down now that you’re here.
He nods and looks around my apartment, studying every little inch, just like the last time he was here. It's like he's never here long enough to take in all of the details. Like my living room is a museum he could spend all day walking around.
Now I’m thinking of the last time he was here, and I hope he doesn’t notice how red my cheeks suddenly are. I hate how much my blushing gives away.
His eyes linger on a photo frame, going down the line. I watch as he goes over all of them, getting a glimpse of who I’ve been while we were strangers.
“Who’s that?” He points to a particular photo, and I get up from my spot on the couch so I can see which one he’s talkingabout. I ask what he means, because it’s clearly a picture of me. I don’t look all that different, my hair was just a little shorter than it is now. I’m standing on the beach, with a huge smile on my face. It’s a great picture, and that was a great day.
A great day that still hurts my heart a little. With that thought, I realize what he noticed. There’s an arm wrapped around my waist, which belongs to someone that’s cropped from the picture. There's just a shoulder, covered in a grey sweatshirt.
I felt beautiful, and happy, andthatis what I wanted to remember.
NotLucas.
It feels like so long ago that I actually stopped noticing him there at all. I stopped thinking about who else shared that day with me whenever I glanced at it.
I don’t know how I feel about it being the first thing Miles sees.
“Oh. Nobody important.”
