yours.

[36] Jasper

At the water's edge, I wriggle my toes. "I want to go in the water," I tell Miles, who stands protectively beside me. I like this version of him, the one who's always ready to defend me. Better than the distant, bitter one I faced this morning.

"Let's go, then."

I don't know what made me want to go to the beach so badly, but now that we're here, I can tell I've made a good decision. The water is beautiful, seeing it rise to meet the clear sky at the horizon line as seagulls circle the clusters of people resting on the sand behind us. I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks, watching the lazy waves roll in. I glance over at Miles. "What..." I sputter, and his gaze snaps up to meet my eye. "Stop staring at my feet!"

Red creeps up his neck as his lips curl in a half-smile. "I wasn't."

"Yes, you were," I snap, wading into the shallows. "You're so weird."

Quickly, he removes his shoes and socks to follow me, asking, "Jasper, wait, wait. You can... you can swim, right?" I wait for him to catch up before grinning, inching closer to him. "You can't?"

I forge ahead, feeling water soak the bottoms of my sweats.

"Jasper!"

"Miles!" I echo, watching him slosh towards me -- rather ungracefully, I note with a smile.

"You need... to slow down." He finally reaches me, wrapping an arm around my waist. "We need to stick together."

He tugs me toward him, and I slow my momentum by bracing my hands against his chest. I look up at him, remarking, "I'm not going to drown in a foot of water."

"You might. And it's my job to make sure you don't."

"Oh, it's your job, now? I thought we said we weren't official." The grin slips from his face, and I sigh, assuring him, "I'm kidding, Miles. I... I appreciate it." So much, I don't add. "Can you swim?"

"Of course," he's quick to respond. "I learned when I was, like, four."

"Oh, of course you did."

His mouth drifts closer to mine, and he jokes, "I learned fast. I swim like a fish."

"Do you?" And then we're kissing, his hands gentle on my lower back, and I resist the urge to wince as my ribs press against his. Still hurts. But I push the faint pain from my mind as I let my hands wander from Miles' shoulders to his neck to his face, restless. I fold into him so easily, like this has been our norm for much longer than two days, and he holds me, shielding me from the vast ocean beyond with nothing more than his body.

"Why are you so short?" he murmurs against my mouth, more to himself than anything.

"Why are you so tall?" I retort, sliding my hands into his hair. To my surprise, he pulls away. His lips dip into a slight frown.

His hands drift down to find my waist. "My dad is tall. Was tall? I don't know." He glances off toward the distance, and I follow his gaze briefly. I want to ask him when was the last time he heard from his father, but then I remember: We're not serious. No serious questions. I don't expect him to ask me any personal questions, so I can't expect him to answer any, either. So instead, I wait for him, standing idly by until he returns to me, sighing, "No more about me, though. You seriously can't swim?"

I roll my eyes at the change of subject, replying, "No, I can't. I never liked water as a kid."

"You do now, I'm assuming?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

"So you made us come all the way out here, and you don't even like water?"

I shrug, saying, "I guess."

Miles kisses me roughly, and my eyebrows lift in surprise. "You know, maybe you are a lot of work."

I laugh as a family tromps by us, crashing through the waves, and I let a finger drag along Miles' jaw before asking to go back to shore. He takes my hand to guide me back to the sands, and I watch his expression change from joking to determined, like it was his mission to bring me back safely. I don't know when, exactly, he started acting like this -- if it was just after my parking garage episode or before that, when I promised I won't leave him again. Either way, I'm happy he wants to care for me. It's nice to have even one person in my corner... even if he doesn't know why I need one.

"My shoes..." Miles searches the shoreline. "Where... where are my shoes?"

I look to see what he's talking about, and sure enough, my shoes and socks rest on the sand next to just his socks. I reach up to squeeze his bicep as I emerge from the water, grabbing up my socks with a hand. "That sucks."

He crosses his arms, staring down every person who passes us, like anyone here could have his shoes tucked inside their shirt, or something. I pull my shoes on, then turn to him, saying calmly, "Miles, whoever took them is gone. I promise. And stop frowning like that, you look like a gargoyle."

He cracks a smile. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you smile." I glance down at the wet sand mounting between his toes. "Now put your shoes on, please. Your feet look veiny."

"Stop looking at my feet," he says, then bends to put on his socks. "And they're not veiny, it's... it's just the light."

I nod disbelievingly. "Sure it is."

"Wh-whatever! Can we please just go back to the car?" A wave of nausea rolls over me as my mind returns to the dark, cramped confines of the garage. After a moment of stressed silence from me, Miles takes the hint and steers us toward the boardwalk. "Or maybe we can go get some ice cream?"

I sink against his side, relieved, as he wraps an arm around my middle. "Yeah, that... that sounds good." As long as I'm with you.