Chapter 24
EMMA
I switch into my outfit and step out of the changing room with a hat and scarf I found. The store has three changing rooms all right next to each other in the front of the store. Mine is right next to Myles’s, and I wait outside his door with the hat I want him to wear. “Are you ready yet?”
“Be patient.”
“I’ve never been good at that.”
“I’ve noticed,” he says. Clothes ruffle on the other side of the door for a moment and then the door cracks open. “I can’t come out.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s so much worse than I expected.”
Now I have to see it. I need to know if he’s overreacting or if it really is that bad. Either way, I know it’ll be amazing.
I push the door.
“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes wide as he pushes back.
“Coming in,” I say.
“You can’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re dressed, aren’t you?” I ask.
He blushes. “Yeah.”
“Perfect,” I say, walking in as he stumbles back in the most magnificent leopard-print skinny jeans I’ve ever seen in my life.
I cover my mouth. “Oh my.”
He rushes to close the door. “This is pretty messed up. You know that, right?”
“Actually, I think the word you’re looking for is wonderful.”
His hands are in front of the V-neck like he’s worried he’s showing off too much, which is hilarious since he didn’t care about being half naked last night.
“Let me see,” I say.
He cringes. “But it’s so bad.”
“I love it,” I say, reaching up to position the black barret on his head, tilting it slightly to the side. “Even better.”
He gives me a look of disapproval.
I step back, showing off my outfit and striking a pose. “You don’t see me complaining.”
“You aren’t wearing leopard-print skinny jeans,” he mumbles.
“I’m okay with that,” I say. “I think this is the way it’s meant to be.”
“Oh, really?”
I smile, biting my lip to stop my laugh. “Yeah.”
His face reaches a shade of red I’ve never seen before. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
I take my phone out. “Smile.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He gestures to himself. “Emma, I look awful.”
“Just own it.” I adjust the hat again before stepping back to get a good angle. “If you want to look good, confidence is key.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Okay. I’m going to trust you.” He tilts his head and smiles, eyes focused on me.
Butterflies race through me because he isn’t giving me a half-hearted smile.
It’s a wide grin, something I’ve only seen a few times where the smile fills his face and his attention is completely on me.
I find myself studying the subtle differences from what I’d memorized so long ago.
His cheeks are slimmer, jaw sharper, and he definitely has more freckles.
They rim his nose and there are a few above his lips.
I look at my phone to regain my composure.
“So do I look good?”
I almost drop the phone, but catch it mid air. “Excuse me?”
“Am I confident enough for you?”
He’s covering his smile with his hand, but despite how red his face is getting, he doesn’t look away.
“Since when do you talk like that?” I ask. He never would’ve said these things to me before, and each time I’m thrown off guard.
He shrugs. “I guess I realized how much fun it is to make you blush.”
“I think you’re blushing more than I am,” I say, showing him the picture I took.
“I doubt that,” he says, reaching for my phone. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“What? No,” I say, jumping back.
He rushes forward, wrapping his arm around my waist to stop me from going anywhere. “It’s only fair.”
I let out a blood-curdling laugh.
“We are going to get kicked out of here,” he says.
I cover my mouth to try and stop myself from letting my laughter spill out again.
He spins me around, and we’re face-to-face.
My hair is in my eyes, but I can still see his gentle gaze on me.
I’m not laughing anymore, and I lower my hands. My heart speeds up all over again as he stares at me.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and his soft smile comes back. His eyes linger on me like I’m not some burden, but instead, something he values.
“What?” I choke out. I know we’re acting like the past never happened, but I’m scared how easily he’s making my heart flutter. We’ve barely spent any time together and I miss us.
He takes the fluffy pink scarf around my neck, unwinding it. Then he ruffles my hair before quickly wrapping the scarf around my head in a wild knot. “There. Now we’re even.”
“Wow,” I say, glaring at him even though I secretly like this side of him.
He doesn’t seem to mind. “Pose,” he says, holding the phone out to take a picture.
I give him a forced cringey smile.
His brow furrows. “Come on. Is that the best you can do?”
That makes me laugh, breaking character.
“There we go. That’s the Emma I know.” He changes the angle, moving the phone higher. “Keep going.”
I puff out my cheeks and widen my eyes, framing my face with my hands.
“Perfect,” he says, moving the phone yet again.
For the first time in a while I feel like I have permission to be silly, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I put my hands on my hips and strike another pose, crossing my eyes.
Then another and another and another until Myles and I are laughing so hard I almost tear up.
“So we’re buying these outfits, right?” I say.
“Not a chance,” he replies, chuckling between every word.
I laugh, hugging my stomach. “I need the world to see it.”
“It’s only for you,” he whispers.
I bite at my smile.
If he had said things like this to me in the past, I would’ve screamed like a school girl and thrown myself at him, but right now I don’t know what to do or how to feel.
When I head back to my dressing room to change, I have to sit on the bench for a moment because it’s all too surreal.
I’m shocked at how easily we slipped back into us.
It truly feels like the past few years never happened, and I don’t want it to end.
I want to stay in this denial for as long as possible.
We spend about another hour roaming the thrift store, looking at all the random things people had donated.
I’m always interested in the things people get rid of.
There are so many stories in every item.
There was an entire set of strawberry-themed cookware, and I imagined it belonged to an older lady with a house that smelled like cookies.
We sat on all of the furniture, rating which couches and chairs were best because we had nothing better to do.
“This is the winner,” I’d said, sitting on a gray sectional.
Myles shook his head while he sat across from me on a chair that looked like it was straight out of a hair salon. “This has more character.”
I pointed to the red patch on the back of the sectional. “Excuse me. Do you see this? It’s dripping in character.”
Then for some reason I still don’t understand, we found an excessive number of ducks.
A duck lamp shade, a duck tablecloth, and even a duck mug.
We noticed so many, we ran around the store seeing who could find the most. Each time we found another one, I started laughing because I didn’t understand why the store had such an obsession with them.
Then again, it’s not like they had a choice in what was donated to them.
When we’ve thoroughly annoyed the staff beyond the point of return, we quietly leave the store after buying nothing but the hat and scarf.
“What now?” Myles asks once we’re back in the car.
“It’s your turn to pick.”
“I’m bad at being put on the spot.”
“Nonsense.” I take the end of my scarf and wave it in front of his face like I would’ve done when I was young. “You just need more practice.”
His cheeks turn pink as he looks up at me. “I can’t think when you do that.”
“Excuses,” I say, making a face.
He laughs, taking my hand to stop the scarf from moving. “I’m serious.”
I sigh, pulling back. “Fine.” But inside me there’s an uncontrollable want to tease him. I rest my elbow on the center console and perch my head on my hand, staring at him with big eyes.
“That’s not any better,” he says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing anything.”
“Oh sure,” he says, holding up a hand to block my face from view. “I forgot you just naturally look like a constipated monkey.”
I chuckle as my jaw shifts to the side. “Excuse me?” I lower his hand. “A constipated monkey?”
He holds up his hands and shrugs.
“First of all”—I hold up a finger—“you should be honored to look at my beautiful face. And secondly, is that really the best insult you can come up with? I feel like we can do better than that.”
“I told you I’m bad at being put on the spot. This is a great example.”
I’m laughing again. “You’re just not bad. You’re truly awful.”
“Hey,” he says. “I’m trying here. I almost had an idea before you interrupted me with your face.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry. My bad.” I gesture toward him. “By all means continue almost having an idea.”
He rolls his eyes. “Hush.”
I slam my mouth shut.
“Actually, look away.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, already failing at being quiet.
He crosses his arms and waits. “I can’t think with you staring at me.”
I shake my head, but I shift my weight and stare out the window anyway because at this point it’s a game. “Happy?”
“Much better.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You like it.”
I do.
I like it more than I should admit because enjoying his company this much when I hated him yesterday feels like a crime. And yet, right now I don’t care. I don’t want this feeling to go away. I want to stay in this bubble of happiness where I’m just a girl teasing a boy.
“I got it,” he says.
I spin around. “Are you sure? Or do you need to get more inspiration from the back of my head?”
“It was helpful, but I’m good.”
“Well, let’s hear your great idea.”
He runs his hand through his hair, curls bouncing right back. “Let’s find a baseball field.”
“Of course.”
We find an older field not too far from where we were. It’s a little beat up with rust on the chain-link fence and the wood is chipping on the benches surrounding it. Even the bases are worn out, but it doesn’t matter.