yours.

[32] Jasper

"You're late."

Miles sits beside me, closer than he usually does. I take this as a good sign. "I know, I... I'm sorry." He sounds like he means it. "I was busy."

"Busy doing nothing?"

He reaches for my hand, and stupidly, I let him take it. "Busy thinking about you."

My face warms as I hide a smile, gesturing to Maybelle on my lap with my free hand. "Well, I was alone with just this cat to keep me company. For hours."

"One hour," he amends cautiously, lacing his fingers through mine. I shift closer to him. "And I came as fast as I could, I swear. I even blew my mom off to come meet you."

"I believe it." He smiles, his gaze dipping to my mouth, and for a moment, I consider letting him kiss me right here, in front of my house. But I know my father will be home from work soon, and my mother could emerge from the house at any time and catch us, so I warn in a low voice, "Not here, Miles."

He groans. "Where, then? Where can I kiss you?" I cough, hearing a double meaning in Miles' words, and he grins, continuing, "I want to make up for being late."

I stare into his green eyes, which somehow seem to have brightened a shade since last night, and squeeze his hand. "Is your house free?"

"Not the house, but my room is." My face goes hot as I think of the implications of his offer, and his gaze traces over my cheeks. "You're blushing."

I look down at Maybelle. "I am not."

"You are -- no, look at me. It's cute."

It feels like every skin cell in my body catches fire, and I rise to my feet, setting Maybelle on the pavement beside me. I extend a hand to Miles, who watches me in mild confusion. When he stands to join me, I tell him, "Take me there."

And he does. The second he closes the bedroom door behind us, I have him pressed against it, rising onto my toes to kiss his lips. His arms instantly wrap around me, and I sink into his embrace, ignoring the dull pain in my rib and tightening my fingers on his shoulders. His tongue meets mine, and I wonder why, why, why we haven't done this sooner.

Because I was too busy telling myself I didn't like him, I remind myself, then resist the urge to snort. Look how well that turned out.

Miles breaks for air, his hands sprawled on my back. "I missed you today," he mutters.

I sink back to rest my heels on the floor. My eyes are drawn to his flushed cheeks, his pink lips, his slightly mussed hair. "I missed you too." Then I poke his chest. "I like... this." I like everything about it, really. The soft words, the endearing stares, the intentional touches. And, obviously, the wildly intense kisses.

"What is this, exactly?" Miles pins his gaze on something over my head, and I realize for the first time just how tall he is. "Does it have a name?"

Do I want to name it? "Can we just... take this slow?" I hear myself saying.

Miles nods earnestly. "Of course." Then he chuckles. "Though we haven't exactly been taking things 'slow' so far." At my blank stare, he says, "We made out for our first kiss. And we just did again, a day later."

I relax in his arms. "Oh." Even if things are moving fast, it feels so right.

"Have you never been in a relationship before? Not that this is a relationship, but..." Silence serves as my response. "Oh. Okay."

I don't know why I ask, but I do: "Have you?" He nods, and I feel a part of myself shrink into itself, self-conscious. So there aren't just friends I've never met, then. There are partners -- partners that have kissed the same person, the same lips I have. My mind spirals, and all I can see is Miles with people who aren't me--