yours.

[7] Miles

The second I step back into my house, Lesley sticks her tongue out at me, calling, "Back so soon?"

"Please be quiet," I snap, motioning to her tablet. "Watch your... Sesame Street, or whatever."

"I'm too old for--"

"And I'm too tired to care." I walk right past her to the staircase, which I start to climb before my mom's voice rises to stop me.

"You were only over there for ten minutes," she accuses, emerging from the kitchen. She crosses her arms. "What happened?"

"He told me to go home."

"Who's 'he?'"

I frown, remembering Jasper pushing me away like I was just a... a nuisance to him. "They have a son. He's around my age." I grin to myself. "And he's British."

My mom's brows lift. "And what's his name?"

"Jasper." Then I continue my way up the stairs, hoping our conversation is over. It's not, of course.

"You should befriend him!" my mom calls after me. "I'm sure he doesn't know anyone here yet."

I snort, wondering how Jasper would react to me showing up at his house a second time. "Don't think he'd appreciate that."

"Of course he would! Everyone could use a friend."

I glance back to see my mom's hopeful green gaze staring up at me. I can almost hear Chelsea's voice in my head: "You can't say no to that face, Miles. You just can't."

Letting out a frustrated breath, I relent, "Fine, Mom. I'll try." Whether I actually will, I have no clue.

* * *

The next morning, my mom sends me on my daily mission to collect the mail, and on my way back, I notice someone sitting on the stoop of the house beside mine. Squinting, I recognize the distant form as Jasper's and consider calling out to him, then remember how he treated me yesterday and start the walk back to my own front door. Halfway there, my eyes betray me and stray to Jasper again.

He's hunched over, stroking some small, furry... animal. A dog, maybe? My feet start to carry me toward him as the promise I made to my mom drifts back to me. I can just... talk to him, can't I? One conversation can't hurt. And then maybe I can set us on good terms.

A firmer sense of certainty overtakes my steps as I make my way over to Jasper's door and sit beside him on the concrete steps. 

He doesn't even look up at me, just sighs, "What are you doing here, Miles?"

Instead of answering him, I gesture at the tawny-colored cat purring at his feet. "Is it yours?"

"No. She just showed up here today."

I look at him sideways. "Is that sarcasm?"

His eyes flit to meet mine briefly. "No." He tugs at the sleeve of his jacket, this one a dark shade of red. "She's a stray."

I notice the absence of a collar on her brown neck. "Are you going to adopt her?" I ask honestly, drawing back when Jasper glares at me, his dark gaze slicing into mine.

"Are you kidding?" he snaps. "My father would never let an animal in the house."

I hold up my hands in surrender. "Wow, okay. My bad." He returns to petting the cat, and I venture, "Why are you out here?"

"My mother told me to get out of the house." At my concerned look, he adds, "And get some fresh air. She wasn't putting me out."

"That's good." We sit in silence for a few minutes before I shift on the warm pavement, reaching over to scratch the cat behind her ears. "Have you named her yet?"

"I don't want to get attached."

"Oh, don't be so cynical." I watch Jasper's lips twitch in annoyance, and my gaze tracks its way up his profile to his eyes, where I can't help but notice the length of his eyelashes. They curl back to nearly brush his eyelids, casting soft shadows on his eyes. They make him look distant. They make him look--

"Quit staring," he mutters, and my gaze drops to the cat. She stretches, curling up on Jasper's feet and laying her head on his shoes.

I shake my head. "I wasn't," I lie. But I was, and I... I really don't know why.

"Why are you here?" Jasper asks again, and I know I can't keep dodging his question.

"I... I wanted to say hi," I say, honestly this time.

"Hi." He glances up at me briefly. "Now you can leave."

I squint at him. "Well, I'm not done." I pause, and when he gives me the chance to continue, I take it. "I wanted to say hi, and... I don't know." Jasper lets out an exasperated huff. "Um... where did you move from?" It's a lame question, but it's the only one I can think of.

"Indiana."

His answer comes as a surprise to me. "Not England?"

His hand stalls, caught on a knot in the cat's fur. He waits a moment before confirming, "Not England." Before I can press the issue further, he stands abruptly, depositing the cat at his feet. She runs off across his yard and disappears, and Jasper watches her go. "I should probably head back inside. I've been out here for a while."

"But I just got... here." Before I can even finish my sentence, the door opens and closes, and he's gone.

* * *

I try again the next day.

It's the same thing, with him dropping obvious hints he wants me to leave and me ignoring them, knowing that somewhere deep down, he appreciates the company. His one-word responses and pointed glares only serve to feed my competitive side and push me to try to receive new answers and expressions from him, but it's difficult -- Jasper's clearly a very private person.

Today, he refuses to tell me anything about himself, except for his age: seventeen, same as me. And even after ten minutes of prodding, that's all I can get.

But I'm determined -- to find a crack in Jasper's shell or to make a friend, I don't know. Whichever comes first.