Chapter 1
Chapter One
MILES
“Mom, I’m seriously fine. I told you to stop worrying.”
Like that was ever going to happen. She was the world’s number one worrier, but at least it meant there was a simple explanation as to where I’d inherited that particular trait from.
“Honey, I just…” I heard her sigh loud and clear through my phone’s receiver. “I just hate how you’re up there all by yourself. We never get to see you!”
“You’ll see me tomorrow night,” I reminded her. Our family’s annual Christmas party has been on the same day every year since before I’d even been born. “And you just saw me on Thanksgiving.”
“Once a month!” she complained. “I carry you in my womb for 40 weeks, and this is what I get? Once a month?” She was mostly joking, but only mostly. If it were up to her, my siblings and I would have lived at home with her for our entire lives. “Your sister sees us every single weekend,” she added.
My older sister hadn’t had to move an hour away to the nearest major city in order to secure a job in her chosen field.
Marrying your college sweetheart and opening up a husband-and-wife owned dental practice in your hometown had benefits.
I’d barely gone on a handful of dates in college, let alone since.
And my brother and his wife had already given my mom two grandkids to dote on.
I was, without question, the family failure.
“Sorry, I’ll… try to make it out there more,” I said, frowning a little. “I promise.”
“Well, okay,” she said, easily appeased. “But I still don’t like you being up there all by yourself.”
“I’m not! I have Allan.”
Allan has been my best friend since childhood.
He was practically my mom’s third son, and I figured bringing him up would maybe put her in better spirits.
He’d ended up moving to the city with me after we’d both snagged our degrees a few years earlier.
But he was married now, snuggled into domestic bliss with his construction worker husband.
He still made a point of hanging out with me though, otherwise my mom’s fears would actually be founded.
“He’s coming too, right?”
“Yeah. We’re all riding down together,” I answered. Just me, my best friend, and his husband. I definitely didn’t feel like a pathetic third wheel or anything.
“Just you three?” she wondered. “You can bring a date, you know!”
“Mom.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she insisted. “Your dad and I would love to meet your special someone.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.” I couldn’t bear to suffer through yet another humiliating conversation consisting of me explaining that I didn’t have a special someone and I never had.
I’d tried dating apps, bars, and even a queer badminton group, in an incredibly desperate last ditch effort.
The very few dates I’d gone on with guys I’d met through these methods had been dry, dull, and uncomfortable. “I’ll bring him.”
I’d just make an excuse when I got there about how my imaginary boyfriend couldn’t make it. It was better than arguing now. She wouldn’t make a scene in the middle of the party.
“Really? That’s so great, Miles! I’ve been waiting and waiting!”
She sounded surprised and happy. Too happy. I knew she didn’t mean anything by it, but the joy in her voice stung. Like the best thing I could ever do was bring somebody home to prove I wasn’t a completely unlovable loser.
“Mom, I’m going to grab some dinner to bring home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Dad I said hi.”
“Okay, honey. We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I adjusted my coat a bit so the collar blocked my face from the chilly wind.
The temperature had plummeted overnight, much to my relief.
I’d actually started to worry we wouldn’t have snow on Christmas.
And for someone like me, who looked forward to the winter holidays all year, that was just too depressing.
Mr. Liu at the little family-run Chinese restaurant a few blocks from my apartment greeted me warmly, his wife waving excitedly at me from the back.
“The usual for you?” he asked. I got takeout from there way too much, but I was clueless about cooking, and the kitchen in my apartment was crazy tiny anyway.
“Same as always,” I confirmed, injecting a cheerfulness into my voice as I leaned my hip into the little checkout counter. It wasn’t the Lius’ fault I was in a bad mood because of the phone call from my mom.
“Happy holidays,” he sang out, handing me over a plastic bag with my way too much food for one person’s order perfectly stacked inside, as always.
“Thanks. Happy holidays.”
Carefully clutching the loops with one hand and supporting the weight from the bottom with the other, I held the delicious treasure to my chest as I trekked the last couple of blocks. People sped by as always, but the streets were a little more empty than usual.
Visions of my warm and toasty couch, with a Christmas movie playing on the TV, danced in my head, speeding up my steps, but I stopped dead in my tracks as I started to pass a tiny park where people walked their dogs and played frisbee.
Stretched out on a wooden bench, like it was a comfy chaise lounge, was one of the strangest looking people I’d ever seen in my life.
His hair was vibrantly pink, a shaggy, choppy cut with bangs longer on one side, with a shiny septum piercing twinkling under his nose, and black Converse sneakers on his feet.
Not exactly the most common look, but it wasn’t those things, or the black skinny jeans with rips up and down the legs, that made him so incredibly strange.
He was wearing a tight, cropped t-shirt with no jacket.
On his side, supporting himself on one elbow, with his chin resting in his hand, he slowly turned the page of a paperback book.
A weird tingle started in my stomach, spreading out to my limbs as my legs forcibly carried me over to him.
As I got closer and could make out more of his appearance, I realized there was a metal bar pierced through his navel.
He had a flat, perfectly toned stomach. He reminded me of the kids I’d thought were cool in high school but had been way too shy to try and talk to.
When I arrived at the bench, he glanced up from his book, staring into my face.
He looked close to my age, maybe a year or two younger.
His big eyes were a ridiculously bright shade of green, probably contacts, and surrounded by thick lashes.
A splash of light freckles covered the bridge of his nose, spreading out just a bit onto his cheeks.
I wanted to take off my glasses and wipe off the lenses like we were in a cheesy cartoon.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. He was so hot it was stupid. Or so hot that it was making me stupid. But that wasn’t why I’d come over. Not exactly, anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he said, blinking slowly. “Did you want to sit down? I’m taking up the whole bench, I know.”
His voice was pretty and musical, like wind chimes.
“Uh… N-no! No, I just… Aren’t you cold?” I finally managed to force out something that somewhat resembled a sentence.
“Cold?” he repeated, like he had no idea why I’d asked such a silly question. “Not really.”
“Well, it’s supposed to snow tonight,” I added, wondering if maybe something was wrong with him. Or maybe the chill had already gotten to his brain. Did he need medical attention? But he looked so alert and lucid. And gorgeous. I needed to stop focusing on that part.
“Oh?” He glanced up at the sky, like he was hoping flakes would start falling on us. “I love snow.”
“You’re not wearing a coat,” I finally pointed out, only because I didn’t know what else to say. I loved snow too, but I didn’t want to encourage him by agreeing. If I did that, then it might be partially my fault if he became a shiny pink popsicle overnight.
He sat up, crossing his legs and plopping his book into his lap before glancing down at himself. He had a bunch of small, colorful tattoos dotted artfully around his body. Cute things like flowers and candies and stars. They definitely suited him.
“I guess I’m not.”
“Do you… have one?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound judgmental. He didn’t seem to understand why I was concerned.
“I just have my book,” he answered.
“Do you have one at home?” I pressed, finally setting my bag of food on one end of the bench before sitting beside him, leaving a sensible gap between us.
Actually making physical contact with him seemed like something that could only happen in a whimsical fantasy, like time travel or fire-breathing dragons.
He stared at me for a few moments before answering. I felt like I was melting into a puddle of goo with each second spent in his odd and bizarre presence. I’d never felt so tongue-tied before.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he promised. It reminded me of the conversation I’d just had with my mom. But I noticed he hadn’t answered my question about the coat.
“Here,” I said, shrugging mine off and handing it over. He took it but didn’t put it on.
“But now you’ll be cold.”
“No, my apartment is close. Put it on,” I urged.
The corner of his mouth tugged up a little, his pretty eyes dancing and sparkling like he was amused by my request. When he stood up to push his arms into the sleeves, I couldn’t help but notice how lean and lovely his body was.
Compared to him, I was the most plain and ordinary person who’d ever lived, without a single noteworthy physical feature.
“Where do you live?” I tacked on, when he was snugly wrapped in my coat.
“Uh…” He shrugged, gesturing widely to indicate the space around us.
“Are you homeless?” I blurted it out, the words sounding rude in my ears. “Er, I mean, unhoused?” I was pretty sure that was what we were supposed to say now. “I mean, you don’t have anywhere to live?”