yours.

[38] Jasper

The next day, Miles arrives at my door with a smile, like nothing happened between us yesterday.

"No," I sigh before he can say anything.

"No... what?"

I run a hand through my hair, which is already quite fluffy from a long night of restless sleep. "No, you don't get to just... move on. You still haven't told me anything about that Christie girl--"

"It's Krystina, and I told you we broke up--"

"Then why did she invite you over to her empty house?" The implications are clear, and I know Miles recognizes them. Why he's denying them, I have no idea.

"She just... wanted to hang out, maybe. Catch up." He glances away, unable to keep his voice even. "Hey, I uh, I wanted to maybe try something different today." Then I notice a figure in my driveway, one spinning in wide, controlled circles. "Lesley wanted to go rollerblading, and with Chelsea at work, I have to watch her."

I roll my eyes. "You're inviting me to come babysit your sister with you?"

He smiles weakly. "Yes?"

"No." I start to close the door on him, but he wedges a hand between the door and its frame, and I groan. "Miles."

"Please please please come with me it will be so boring without you," he pleads. "And I won't kiss you or touch you or anything because my sister is here, so you don't have to worry about that."

I don't know if the thought brings me relief or disappointment.

"And I just really want a chance to explain... everything. So please, Jasper." He extends a hand to me. "Please come with me? It'll only take a little while."

I stare at his upturned palm. "I thought you said you wouldn't touch me."

His hand wavers. "This doesn't count."

Sighing, I take his hand and step through the threshold, then quickly realize I'm wearing no shoes. I look down at my socks. "Can you give me a minute, actually?"

Miles reaches around me to close the front door. "Nope," he says, a forced kind of cheery. "Let's go."

"What is it with you and my feet?" I mutter, thinking of all the passive comments he's made about them -- usually calling them "cute" -- over the past few weeks. "I really think you have a fetish." I follow him down my driveway, where his sister waits for us.

He turns to me, laughing. "I do not, I swear."

I start to smile at his laugh, which has always been just the right amount of deep and goofy, then remember I'm supposed to be mad at him and scowl. His shoulders droop at my expression, and I have to wonder if I've done the right thing, holding my ground.

"Finally," his sister whines, skating in circles around him. "You took forever, Miles."

"Shush," he tells her sternly, and I resist the urge to chuckle. "Let's just get this over with."

Lesley blades out into the street. I check for oncoming cars. "So," she starts, suddenly all business, "Chelsea and I usually do two laps around the neighbourhood, then we take that one hidden trail to the playground near the pool--"

"How about one lap and then we come back?" Miles offers, and Lesley frowns.

"Two laps."

"One."

"Two."

"One--"

"We'll do two," I cut in, and Lesley beams. When Miles turns to glare at me, I shrug, saying, "More time to explain yourself."