Chapter 21
Myles cleared his throat and approached the girl. “Look, Samantha, I–”
“My name’s not Samantha,” she cut in with a scowl on her face.
“Right, of course.” He scratched his stubble. “I don’t exactly care about that, to be honest. I just wanted to put a name on you so that I didn’t have to call you “girl” again and again.”
She continued to scowl at him.
I pressed my lips together as I ping-ponged my gaze between her and Myles.
“Let me put forward a simple deal,” Myles began. “I promise to pay you the full price of this boxset, if you decide to give it up by handing it over to me.”
Supposed-Samantha turned to face him fully. “Are you out of your mind?!” she asked, and then held a hand up. “Wait, don’t answer that. Of course you’re crazy, because no sane person would propose such a stupid fucking deal.”
“Language,” Myles said.
“I’m eighteen.”
“Are you?”
She hesitated for a second, and then shrugged. “None of your business. You’re not getting the boxset from me anyway.”
Myles raised a brow. “Oh, but I think I will.”
SS (Supposed-Samantha) gave him a seething once-over. “Over my dead fucking body.”
Jesus Christ.
She was dedicated, I’ll give her that.
The thing is: the boxset she was holding was an exclusive B she’s just a kid, after all.”
Samantha glared at him.
“Oh.” The woman grabbed the boxset from Samantha and examined it. “Is this yours?” she asked Myles, totally ignoring me, and then offered it to him. “Like I said: teenagers these days. So aggressive and irrational.” She sent a saccharine smile his way.
Myles, with a too-smug look on his face, took the box before grinning at the woman.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He then handed it to me.
“My girlfriend here saw it first and wanted it for herself, but Samantha got to it before we could, so we were simply sorting stuff out.” He smirked at Samantha. “Right?” he addressed her.
She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands. “Right,” she spat, and swiveled on her feet before walking away from us.
Myles’s forehead creased in mock concern. “I’m sorry if I–”
“No, no,” the woman cut him off with another too-sugary smile. “She’ll get over it. They’re just books, after all.”
Right…
I wasn’t surprised she’d said something so…shallow.
Books aren’t just books; they are life. Adventures and romances and histories – they are a beautiful escape.
But I wouldn’t expect Mommy here to understand any of that.
Myles waved a hand at the boxset I was holding, and then glanced at the woman. “If you want, we can give this to you so that you can–”
“Oh, no!” She shook her head elegantly. “Please don’t. It’s nothing she can’t handle.” She then finally gave me her undivided attention. “You have a keeper in your hands here,” she said adoringly.
I do, I signed around a genuinely giddy smile, because Myles really was a keeper.
The woman’s eyes widened as she stared at me. Her complexion paled, and she struggled with her words as she continued to look at me.
And there, on her ashen features, was the one thing I absolutely hated seeing from people who meet me for the first time.
Sympathy.
I must have stiffened against him, and he must’ve sensed it, because Myles wrapped an arm around my waist before pressing me so close to him that I immediately relaxed against his warmth.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said to the woman, who licked her red lips and swallowed as she finally took her gaze away from me and nodded at Myles.
“Yes, a pleasure.” With a quick wave, she all but ran away from us.
Once alone again, I closed my eyes and sighed. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe, Carina. It’s okay, just breathe.
These things usually didn’t affect me much – people’s reactions and their uncertainty in how to behave in front of me – but I guess sometimes they just…hit me, and hit me for real.
Why is it so hard to believe that there are people like me out there in the world? Wouldn’t it be nice to simply accept and appreciate our nature? A little ease and understanding are more than enough. That’s all I ask for.
We’re unique in our own ways, and I’d really appreciate it if we weren’t treated like disjoined parts of the society, but instead be seen as its cohesive variables.
That shouldn’t be so hard to do, right?
“Hey.” Myles ran a hand up and down my back. “I’m here.”
I looked up at him, patted my chest once, and then tapped the tips of my fingers to the side of my forehead twice to say: I know.
He placed a knuckle under my chin and brought my face close to his. “You’re perfect, Rina, just the way you are,” he said against my lips, and then erased the space between us by pressing a chaste kiss on my lips.
And that – that was enough.
More than enough.