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"It'll keep you warm, and I'll get it back from you when we're—"
"No, I meanthen. The one you gave me then. You didn't have to give meanything, but you could've at least given me something you weren't attached to."
I was attached to everything I gave her, especially that blanket that currently sits on her couch.
I invade her space, and put a hand to her cheek.
"The only thing that mattered was knowing you'd have more than a thin sweatshirt to keep you warm at night." I tuck a strandof hair behind her ear. "I might have also thought we would have stayed friends, and it wasn't like I'd never see any of it again. And see? I was partially right."
"You can't have any of it back," she says, trying to hide her emotions.
"It's all yours, hence my replacement."
She decides to wear her leggings again, despite my protests that she’ll freeze her legs off. The final result though? With my jacket reaching her knees, and my scarf wrapped around her neck? It’s a look I have to capture and keep forever.
I make sure she knows it, too. The second we get outside I hand her Freddy’s leash and back away, pulling out my phone.
“What are you doing?” she asks, frowning deeply at the camera.
“Making sure I’ll never forget how cute you look right now.”
Now that I’ve given myself permission to finally acknowledge it out loud.
“I look like a mess.”
“You’re the cutest mess the world has ever seen.” I can see her try to hold back a smile, the corner of her mouth just barely quirking up. “Yeah, the fucking cutest,” I confirm.
I snap another photo.
When I go to grab the leash back from her, she pulls it out of my reach, and walks backwards away from me.
“No, he’s mine now.” She looks down at him with a loving smile that honestly takes my breath away. “Isn’t that right, Freddy? You’re obviously sick of being stuck with this guy all the time.”
I smile to myself, not about to argue as I follow after them. My heart feels so full, watching how comfortable they are together.
“Miles? Is that you?”
My steps falter. It’s a man’s voice that seems somewhat familiar, but I can't place it.
I look to my right to see a guy who looks around my age with long blonde hair, and I’m sure I don’t know him. I rack my brain for anyone matching his appearance and come up blank.
He’s carrying a box away from the giant moving truck that sits in the driveway. I hadn’t even realized my old neighbors had moved out, not that it’s a surprise. I haven’t been paying attention to much these last few weeks, they could’ve bulldozed the neighborhood without me noticing.
A few slow steps closer, and I’m still not sure who I’m looking at or how they know my name. Autumn glances at me expectantly, waiting for me to answer. I give her a subtle shrug.
“Uh, hey?”
He sets the box down on the porch step as we approach, so he can throw his arms out in a question.
“Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, man. It’s just some hair.”
I give him a look that I hope is apologetic because even when he’s right in front of us— nothing. I don't know. There’s a nagging feeling somewhere in the back of my mind that I should.
What are the places I’d know someone from? My job, my mom’s office, the handful of friends I used to have before I shut them all out. He doesn't fall into any of those categories.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…” I trail off, watching him smile in amusement.
“No hard feelings. It issomehair, huh?” That’s for sure, it’s quite the mane. “Wyatt.”
