asleep at about nine, and Adam picks her up at precisely twelve AM. Boo and Trei leave directly afterward, but not before we make plans to bang out yet another Radiohead practice tomorrow.
When I’m finally alone, I peel off my T-shirt, remove my jeans and take a shower, careful not to hit my wings with the hot stream of water. My back is just too itchy to wear yet another t-shirt, so I replace it with a black, spaghetti strapped tank top, once I’ve cleaned it.
It's about one AM when I'm walking into my bedroom and I realize that all of my blankets are still a part of the fort. I contemplate tearing it down, but we worked all day constructing it, and it’s comfy anyway, so I turn to head back into the living room.
And bump straight into Myles' chest.
I'm a little startled at first because I thought I was alone. Myles wasn’t supposed to come over today. He said he was busy. Then I’m a little more uncomfortable because I'm only wearing striped knee socks and shorts that barely cover my thighs.
“ I'm sorry,” he says immediately after he steps away. “I should have called.” He holds his hands up in front of him.
I can’t meet his eyes. Instead I stare at the black and white stripes swirling up my ankles. I tug at the hem of my shorts, wishing they were longer.
Myles turns around abruptly so his back is facing me. “I've made you uncomfortable,” he states.
“ It's okay.” My gaze travels to his shoulder blades under his white t-shirt. “I just didn't know you were coming over.” If I did, I would have worn a huge T-shirt and pants, itchy back be damned.
“ I'll leave.” He takes a step toward the door.
I reach out an arm to touch him, but he's too far away. “No, don't,” I say a little too dramatically, which causes me to laugh. “Just let me get under the blankets.”
He faces the fort, not so much as glancing at me. “Wow.”
I side-step behind him and through a slit in the fabric. I feel like I'm acting dumb, but if Myles thinks so too, he doesn't mention it. I rearrange the pillows and climb underneath my black and white comforter.
“Are you covered?” Myles asks.
I tuck the blanket under my arms. “Yup.”
His dark blue jean-covered legs move toward the m ain opening and he kneels down. “What is this?” he asks.
I pat a patch of pillows near me, and he crawl s inside, lying next to me. “You've never seen a fort before?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Well, Leena's pretty into them.”
Myles laughs, but his face falls slightly when I shift the wrong way on my side and my sticky, healing back grazes the blanket under me. “Does it hurt?” he asks.
I shrug. “Nah. It just itches.”
“ Can I see it?”
Slowly, I turn onto my other side so my back is facing him. He's not too close, but I can feel his breath on my raw skin, and he traces the outline of the tattoo that's visible to him, never grazing the edge of raised ink.
“Did you have fun with Stevie and Jade today?” he asks.
A wide smile spreads across my face when I think about it. “Yes. Lots of fun.”
A chill runs through me as his touch brings goose bumps on my skin. I don’t exactly hate it. “That's good.”
“ They got matching tattoos,” I say. “Each others’ initials.”
His hand stops moving for a second. “I had a feeling.”
I snort. “Of course.” I readjust myself so we’re face to face again. “So what brings you here so late?”
His hand is hovering in mid-air, like I took my new tattoo away from it too soon.”I thought you'd be awake.” His finger begins tracing around the Jack-o'-lantern near my elbow. “I had a nightmare. Couldn't sleep.” He shrugs.
“ Oh.”
“ When did you get this one?” he says to my arm.
“ Uhm.” I glance down at the pumpkin with the happy cutout smile, the top of his head a little bit open so a few cartoon pieces of candy can poke out. “I guess I was about eighteen. I got a lot of tattoos when I turned eighteen.”
Myles' eyes
When I’m finally alone, I peel off my T-shirt, remove my jeans and take a shower, careful not to hit my wings with the hot stream of water. My back is just too itchy to wear yet another t-shirt, so I replace it with a black, spaghetti strapped tank top, once I’ve cleaned it.
It's about one AM when I'm walking into my bedroom and I realize that all of my blankets are still a part of the fort. I contemplate tearing it down, but we worked all day constructing it, and it’s comfy anyway, so I turn to head back into the living room.
And bump straight into Myles' chest.
I'm a little startled at first because I thought I was alone. Myles wasn’t supposed to come over today. He said he was busy. Then I’m a little more uncomfortable because I'm only wearing striped knee socks and shorts that barely cover my thighs.
“ I'm sorry,” he says immediately after he steps away. “I should have called.” He holds his hands up in front of him.
I can’t meet his eyes. Instead I stare at the black and white stripes swirling up my ankles. I tug at the hem of my shorts, wishing they were longer.
Myles turns around abruptly so his back is facing me. “I've made you uncomfortable,” he states.
“ It's okay.” My gaze travels to his shoulder blades under his white t-shirt. “I just didn't know you were coming over.” If I did, I would have worn a huge T-shirt and pants, itchy back be damned.
“ I'll leave.” He takes a step toward the door.
I reach out an arm to touch him, but he's too far away. “No, don't,” I say a little too dramatically, which causes me to laugh. “Just let me get under the blankets.”
He faces the fort, not so much as glancing at me. “Wow.”
I side-step behind him and through a slit in the fabric. I feel like I'm acting dumb, but if Myles thinks so too, he doesn't mention it. I rearrange the pillows and climb underneath my black and white comforter.
“Are you covered?” Myles asks.
I tuck the blanket under my arms. “Yup.”
His dark blue jean-covered legs move toward the m ain opening and he kneels down. “What is this?” he asks.
I pat a patch of pillows near me, and he crawl s inside, lying next to me. “You've never seen a fort before?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Well, Leena's pretty into them.”
Myles laughs, but his face falls slightly when I shift the wrong way on my side and my sticky, healing back grazes the blanket under me. “Does it hurt?” he asks.
I shrug. “Nah. It just itches.”
“ Can I see it?”
Slowly, I turn onto my other side so my back is facing him. He's not too close, but I can feel his breath on my raw skin, and he traces the outline of the tattoo that's visible to him, never grazing the edge of raised ink.
“Did you have fun with Stevie and Jade today?” he asks.
A wide smile spreads across my face when I think about it. “Yes. Lots of fun.”
A chill runs through me as his touch brings goose bumps on my skin. I don’t exactly hate it. “That's good.”
“ They got matching tattoos,” I say. “Each others’ initials.”
His hand stops moving for a second. “I had a feeling.”
I snort. “Of course.” I readjust myself so we’re face to face again. “So what brings you here so late?”
His hand is hovering in mid-air, like I took my new tattoo away from it too soon.”I thought you'd be awake.” His finger begins tracing around the Jack-o'-lantern near my elbow. “I had a nightmare. Couldn't sleep.” He shrugs.
“ Oh.”
“ When did you get this one?” he says to my arm.
“ Uhm.” I glance down at the pumpkin with the happy cutout smile, the top of his head a little bit open so a few cartoon pieces of candy can poke out. “I guess I was about eighteen. I got a lot of tattoos when I turned eighteen.”
Myles' eyes
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