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“Myles didn’t bring any clothes.”
“That’s not entirely true.” His cheeks turn red. It’s the first time I’ve seen him blush, and he shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. “I have a spare set of clothes in my bag.”
“You’re here for three days,” I counter. “You can’t wear the same clothes the entire trip.”
“Plan on buying everything on vacation, so you have lots of new t-shirts as souvenirs?” Dad asks, glancing in the rearview mirror, chuckling. “That’s something I would do.”
It seems Dad likes him already. Mom is quiet, glancing out the window before she reaches for the radio, making an adjustment to the channel. “How did you two meet?” Mom asks, starting the barrage of questions.
Myles stares at me, nodding to let me do the talking. “We met on a dating app—”
“I saw you at the bar before we ever spoke on the dating app,” Myles corrects me.
He’s right, technically.
What does it matter how we met? We both hated each other. Myles Dax has grown on me, quite a bit. Although I’m not sure I’m ready to say those words aloud. “We ended up becoming neighbors, and long story short, his friends helped me bid on him at a charity auction. They knew I had a crush on him.”
Crush.
Desire to end him.
Is there a difference?
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Mom says.
Myles takes my hand, threading our fingers together. He’s quiet, watching me the entire time, and I really wish I knew what he was thinking.
Every moment under my parents’ watchful gaze feels heavy. Lying to them isn’t easy for me. Myles is shown to the guest room, and I’m given my childhood bedroom, where I drop my bag near the door.
There’s no point in unpacking; we’re only staying three days, two nights. It’s a short trip, but I’m glad he came with me, no matter how awkward it feels.
The hallway lights are out.
The house is quiet.
There’s a soft rap at the bedroom door, and I’m wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants. The floor is cold under my feet, and I open the door. Myles smiles boyishly at me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Come on in,” I offer, stepping aside, letting him sneak into my bedroom. That’s what it feels like, with him being given a bedroom across the hallway and me sleeping in my childhood bed.
I never snuck any boys in when I lived here in high school. I’d been too nervous I’d get caught. Besides, there haven’t been that many boys I’ve dated…
Myles quietly closes the door behind himself. “Do you need anything before bed?” I ask, wondering if he needs a toothbrush or maybe soap if he intends to shower.
On a second glance at him, his hair is wet.
“You.”
“Me?” My voice squeaks and I force a smile, the butterflies taking flight all over again.
“The bedroom is freezing. I thought a shower would help, now I have wet hair and I’m cold.”
Mom left him an extra blanket in the guest bedroom, but it doesn’t compare to my electric blanket. “Climb under, for a few minutes,” I offer.
He slips under my covers and pulls the blanket up to his chest. A lazy smile works its way onto his face.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep in my bed!”
