I lower myself to my knees in front of him and touch his shoulder. Miles?
He inhales a huge breath, slowly lifting his face to look at me. His eyes are mere slits and bloodshot red. Im not sure if thats a result of the crying or the alcohol. Im so sorry, Rachel, he says, lifting a hand out toward me. He wraps it around the back of my neck and pulls me forward toward him, burying his face in the crevice between my neck and shoulder. Im so sorry.
I have no idea who Rachel is or what he did to her, but if hes hurting this bad, I shudder to think what shesfeeling. Im tempted to find his phone and search for her name and call her so she can come rectify this. Instead, I gently push him back into the couch. I lay his pillow down and urge him onto it. Go to sleep, Miles, I say gently.
His eyes are so full of hurt when he drops to the pillow. You hate me so much, he says as he grabs my hand. His eyes fall shut again, and he releases a heavy sigh.
I stare at him silently, allowing him to keep hold of my hand until hes quiet and still and there arent any more tears. I pull my hand away from his, but I stay by his side for a few minutes longer.
Even though hes asleep, he somehow still looks as if hes in a world of pain. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is sporadic, failing to fall into a peaceful pattern.
For the first time, I notice a faint, jagged scar, about four inches long, that runs smoothly across the entire right side of his jaw. It stops just two inches shy of his lips. I have the strange urge to touch it and run my finger down the length of it, but instead, my hand reaches up to his hair. Its short on the sides, a little longer on the top, and just the perfect blend of brown and blond. I stroke his hair, comforting him, even though he may not deserve it.
This guy may deserve every single bit of the remorse hes feeling for whatever he did to Rachel, but at least hes feeling it. I have to give him that much.
Whatever he did to Rachel, at least he loves her enough to regret it.
Chapter two
MILES
Six years earlier
I open the door to the administration office and walk the roll sheet to the secretarys desk. Before I turn and head back to class, she stops me with a question. Youre in Mr. Claytons senior English class, arent you, Miles?
Yep, I reply to Mrs. Borden. Need me to take something to him?
The phone on her desk rings, and she nods, picking up the receiver. She covers it with her hand. Wait around another minute or two, she says, nodding her head in the direction of the principals office. Weve got a new student who just enrolled, and she also has Mr. Clayton this period. I need you to show her to the classroom.
I agree and plop down into one of the chairs next to the door. I look around the administration office and realize this is the first time in the four years Ive been in high school that Ive ever sat in one of these seats. Which means Ive successfully made it four years without being sent to the office.
My mother would have been proud to know that, although it leaves me kind of disappointed in myself. Detention is something every male in high school should accomplish at least once. I have the rest of my senior year to achieve it, though, so theres that to look forward to.
I retrieve my phone from my pocket, secretly hoping Mrs. Borden sees me with it and decides to slap me with a detention slip. When I look up at her, shes still on the phone, but she makes eye contact with me. She simply smiles and goes about her secretarial duties.
I shake my head in disappointment and open up a text to Ian. It doesnt take much to excite people around here. Nothing new ever happens.
Me: New girl enrolled today. Senior.
Ian: Is she hot?
Me: Havent seen her yet. About to walk her to class.
Ian: Take a picture if shes hot.
Me: Will do. BTW, how many times have you had detention this year?
Ian: Twice. Why? Whatd you do?
Twice? Yeah, I need to rebel it up a little before graduation. I should definitely turn in some homework late this year.
Im pathetic.
The door to the principals office opens, so I close my phone. I slide it into my pocket and look up.
I never want to look down again.
Miles is going to show you the way to Mr. Claytons class, Rachel. Mrs. Borden points Rachel in my direction, and she begins to walk toward me.
I instantly become aware of my legs and their inability to stand.
My mouth forgets how to speak.
My arms forget how to reach out to introduce the person theyre attached to.
My heart forgets to wait and get to know a girl before it starts to claw its way out of my chest to get to her.
Rachel.
Rachel.
Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.
Shes like poetry.
Like prose and love letters and lyrics, cascading down
the
center
of
a
page.
Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.
I say her name over and over in my head, because Im positive
its the name of the next girl Ill fall in love with.
Im suddenly standing. Walking toward her. I might
be smiling, pretending Im not affected by those green
eyes that I hope will one day be smiling just for me. Or
that red-as-my-heart hair that doesnt look like its been
tampered with since God created it specifically with her
in mind.
Im talking to her.
I tell her my name is Miles.
I tell her she can follow me and Ill show her the way to Mr.
Claytons class.
Im staring at her because she hasnt spoken yet, but her nod is
the nicest thing a girl has ever said to me.
I ask her where shes from, and she tells me Arizona. Phoenix,
she specifies.
I dont ask her what brought her to California, but I do tell her