My shoulder is your's

Monet is a French foreign exchange student who is sent to live with Milo and his mother Marlene for a year in America.
Monet is so arrogant but he makes the pain go away.

Milo is mine, even if he doesn't know it yet.

"She's good looking, you should talk to her" I look at him, squinting at the glare from the sun. I shrug my shoulders. "She's not my type." I say looking back at the lake. The girl, Kendra, is a curvy brunette with long legs, every dude's dream girl. She is good looking but not someone I want. And I've known her since eighth grade, she's more of a friend than anything. He does a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, "what is your type then?"
You I want to say. I crack my knuckles and shrug again, "I don't know."
He sits up, the water from his hair trickles down his taunt stomach. I trail it with my eyes, thankful for my sunglasses, "I'll talk to her then." He stands, dusting the dirt off his shorts. "See ya." I lie back down, humiliation swirling hot in my stomach.