yours.

[25] Miles

It doesn't count. We didn't hold hands.

But, technically, we did.

I roll over in my bed, burying my face in my pillow, the one now concealing Monsieur Mustache under its folds. The stillness of the night around me gives me little else to occupy my thoughts than Jasper... and what happened with him today. I was only over there for five minutes, and yet the experience was enough to keep me thinking for hours, long after the sun went down.

Groaning, I flip onto my back and grab my phone from my nightstand. Scrolling through my contacts, I look for the right person to text, someone who can actually take my mind off my problem -- and see one I really don't want to, not right now.

Krystina ❤

I click to shut off my phone and let it drop onto my chest. My eyes squeeze shut as I return helplessly to the memory of my fingers, locked firmly with Jasper's.

Will things change between us? Or was that just a one-time thing?

Do I want things to change?

Maybe if they do, I can stop feeling so confused around him. And then I can be honest with him, really honest, they way true friends are.

I sling an arm over my eyes. That word again, I think regretfully. Friends.

Is that really what I want anymore? To be stuck as friends forever? Or do I want... more?

I think of Jasper, of his pretty eyes and dark hair and full lips always pulled in a scowl, and give in to myself.

More, I decide. Definitely more.

* * *

Seven o'clock comes, and I'm nowhere near ready. I'm barely out of the shower when my mother starts yelling at me to clean my room before we leave, and Lesley ambushes me in the upstairs hallway, demanding to know where I hid her croissant plushie.

"I just--"

"Miles, hurry up!" Chelsea pushes out of her room. "You've had all day to shower, why did you choose to now?"

My grip on the towel around my waist tightens. "Can I please just get dressed, first? Before you lecture me about 'priorities?'"

She waves me off, but Lesley continues to badger me, going as far as tugging on my towel. When I shout, Chelsea ushers her away, warning her that she doesn't want to see what's under there.

Rolling my eyes, I duck back into my room, throwing wrinkled shirts from the floor into my closet and slamming the door after them. I glance at my alarm clock--

"Oh no," I mutter, rushing over to my closet and swinging its door back open. "Oh no, oh no, oh no." It's already 7:05, which means Jasper's probably waiting.

I dress and head downstairs in record time, shoving wet strands of hair from in front of my eyes. "I'm ready," I call to whoever's listening as I pull on my shoes.

My mom and my sisters enter from the kitchen. "That was fast," Lesley remarks. "Are you wearing underwear now?"

I glance at my mom, who sighs. "Come on, now, Les." Then she bends to whisper to her, "Probably not," and Chelsea suppresses a laugh.

"Oh, yeah, really funny, Mom. Chels, can we go?" I set a hand on the front door's metal handle.

"Why are you in such a rush?" Chelsea asks, taking her time grabbing her keys. "I thought you hated the carnival."

"Well, yeah, but Jasper..." My voice catches, and I try again. "Um, Jasper's probably waiting."

Chelsea steps back. "Oh, then in that case..." She starts toward the door to the garage, but  my mom intercepts, hugging her and kissing her temple before moving on to Lesley and doing the same. When it's my turn, I pull away, but she still manages to get her kiss, then five more, "for the road," as she says.

I finally escape the house to go meet my friend, trekking across his grass to his property. He's not outside, surprisingly, so I lift a hand to ring the doorbell. But my hand hangs, suspended in the air, as the sound of voices carries toward me.

The first voice is deep, and loud, I can't make out many words. But then another rises, and I immediately recognize it.

Jasper.

"Please..." I hear him say, softer than the other person with him. "...only... few hours... be back..."

Then, the sound of a brief struggle, and my mind goes blank. What is... Is he... Footsteps bound toward me, and I step back as the door swings open. Jasper, wide-eyed and dressed in a light blue hoodie, stares up at me. If he's surprised to see me, he doesn't show it.

"Give me five minutes," he says calmly, then closes the door again. I hear more slurred yelling, then Jasper's soft voice, pleading with who I can assume is his father, then an eerie silence. His father speaks again, and Jasper emerges from the doorway again, his dark eyes downcast. "Come on."

I turn as he breezes past me, toward his driveway. "Wait, hold on--"

"How much did you hear?" He doesn't turn around, but he does stop. "What... what did you--"

"I heard you asking to come with us," I say honestly. I start toward him, thinking back to the time he told me -- accidentally, I remember -- that his dad gets angry with him. "Jasper, does your dad... Does he hurt you?"

Jasper stiffens slightly, shaking his head. "No."

"But it sounded like--"

"I'm fine, Miles." He finally turns to me. "Can we please just go?"

I hesitate,  but something in his brown gaze makes me want to drop the subject. "Yeah, of course." I lead him to my sister's car, which waits for us in the street. We climb into the backseat as my sisters fight for control of the radio.

"We're not listening to your Kidz Bop, Les--"

"I don't listen to Kidz Bop! Just play Miss Thorn--"

Jasper glances over at me, and my face slowly goes hot. Calm down, I tell myself, meeting his gaze. You're fine. You're friends.

Jasper swallows before starting. "Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?"

His expression hardens, and he turns to face the window beside him.

I don't know how I'm going to survive hours of this.