Chapter 16
Miles drops the takeout box on the table with a muffled thud.
I look at him with guilt in my eyes. Our days off mostly include dinner, a movie or board game, and staying home.
It must be boring for him but if we were to go out on the town, things would be hectic.
And after seeing his apartment myself, I know that he likely wouldn’t be impressed if I tried to show off my money.
After a sleepy dinner at the table, Miles heads for the DVD cabinet to dig through my collection of movies.
We’ve seen most of them at this point and will likely be switching to streaming soon.
I turn my back to him, loading our dishes into the dishwasher when I hear him make sounds I haven’t heard before.
When I turn to face him, I’ve noticed he’s pulled a cardboard box from a deep cabinet space.
“Please tell me you own a player. I might die if I don’t get to see this.”
I shake my head, “sorry about your death.” We laugh in unison, and he continues through the box. I’d forgotten I’d stored all of this stuff here, and I’m torn whether I hate it or love it—seeing Miles’s face light up with every new discovery has me leaning toward the latter.
Miles finds a scrapbook at the bottom, and after reading what it’s labeled, I already know what’s about to happen.
We flip through photos of toddler me standing excitedly on some commercial set.
Then young child and pre-teen me sitting in vanity chairs while artists pamper me.
And Miles finds teenaged-model me the most amusing.
Angsty glares at the camera in cringy 2000s fashion with spiked hair and baggy clothes.
I looked like some teenage heartthrob, and I silently thank my mom for not allowing frosted tips.
Lastly, he finds a DVD someone ripped for me of my first ever serious drama piece on what was essentially a daily soap opera.
I cringe knowing exactly what was on there, begging Miles with my eyes to not play it—he doesn’t listen.
He throws himself on the couch as the disc loads and pats the seat next to him.
He watches me act every day, but imagining what’s about to come is making my head spin.
It’ll be bad. And not just a little bad, really, really bad.
I practically keep my face buried in Miles’s chest the entire fifteen-minute video.
He just pats my head, stifling his laughs so as not to embarrass me any further.
I lift my head as he pats my back to let him up.
Even though it’s embarrassing for me, I can feel myself getting lost in the moment, forgetting all of my troubles.
But an unusual noise outside my door fills my veins with ice water, and my heart falls into my stomach.
I’m filled with dread when there’s a knock at the door.
Miles looks over, surprised, but heads for the door anyway.
I grab his wrist, and he looks down at me with a knowing smile.
I release him and watch him closely, my legs ready to jump into action the second anything looks like it’ll go wrong.
Though I know he can probably take care of himself, I still worry.
I finally release the breath I’d been holding when he turns back to me, holding up a couple of envelopes, “neighbor got some of your mail.”