yours.

[8] Jasper

He just won't leave me alone.

Miles comes back the next day, and the next, and the next. I keep hoping he'll take the hint and leave, but he never does. And I don't know why -- no one is that lonely.

Today, nearly a week after moving day, I'm in my position on my front porch when Miles emerges from his own door, already on his trip to retrieve his mail. On his way back, he cuts across my lawn to join me.

"I could sue you, you know," I greet, searching for Maybelle -- the cat, I mean -- among the grass.

He glances at me. "For what?"

"Trespassing. You never use the driveway."

Miles laughs, and the sound takes me by surprise. "Fair enough. Do you... do you want to come over to my place, then?"

My eyes continue to rove over the property, my mind only half-focused on Miles' words. "And why would I do that?"

His gaze darts away at my rejection. "I don't know. It seems... lonely, sitting out here."

"I don't have time to be lonely with you here all the time."

He's silent for a moment, and Maybelle -- no, the cat -- finally finds her way to us. But instead of slumping on my feet like she usually does, she curls up at Miles' side. I stare at her open-mouthed as Miles grins at me. "Maybe this is a sign," he says, running his fingers languidly through her brown fur, "that you should trust me. Clearly, your cat does."

My jaw clenches at his persistence, and I roll my eyes skyward. I know I should be grateful for his company, but something about Miles just... irks me. Maybe it's the way his hair seems to fall so effortlessly over his brow, just a bit too long to be considered tidy and a bit too short to be considered overgrown. Or maybe it's the freakishly bright green shade of his eyes, deterring me from ever truly meeting his gaze. Or perhaps it's the assurance in his hands, in the way they move and gesture when he speaks.

He nudges my arm with his elbow, and my posture snaps straight. My mind takes a painful tumble from the third space of my thoughts as I become acutely aware of how close Miles is sitting. I shift away from him.

"Why are you trying so hard?" I snap, trying to mask my embarrassment. I have to hope he didn't see me space out. "Why won't you ever just let me be?"

Miles stares down at Maybelle for a moment, his gaze hardening into something closer to a glare. His hand curls into a fist. "Okay, fine, you want the truth?"

I nod.

He looks up at me and begins to respond, then pauses as we finally lock gazes. His mouth opens and closes, and he finally mutters, "It's because... I don't really have anyone else. Isaac went away for camp, Lizzie is doing some internship in D.C., Matthew got himself sent away to his grandparents..." He ticks the names off on his fingers. Then his hands drift back down to his lap, and he squints out at the road as a red convertible whizzes past. "I'll be by myself almost all summer. So... sue me for trying to make a friend." After a breath, he pushes to his feet, giving Maybelle one final rub. He starts to step on the grass of my yard, then catches himself and turns toward the driveway instead.

I know this is when I'm meant to call out to him, to ask him to stay. And I almost do. But in the end, I watch him walk away, paralyzed by the fear of possibility. And, even deeper than that, the weight of one word: friend.

He wants to be my friend.