Someone Like You

Chapter Seven

Zander

When I was younger, a pinky swear was the most sacred form of promising another person something. A memory of Nathan standing in front of me, hand outstretched, pinky finger pointing at me, squinting as the sun shone brightly over us.

"Swear to me," he says. "Best friends. Forever."

"Best friends forever," I agree, linking fingers and shaking on it.

"And me too!" a voice interjects.

We turn to see Breanna rushing over to us. She skids to a stop, sending gravel flying up around her. She hastily pushes her hair back from her face, grinning from ear-to-ear, missing one of her front teeth.

"Forever," Nathan and I say at the same time.

"Uncle Z?"

I blink back to reality, seeing Mila waving her pinky finger under my nose. "Promise?"

"I promise," I say quietly, feeling a little thrown from that random memory that decided to make an appearance. "We will get ice cream after this."

"Yay!" she claps her hands together.

Bending down, I collect Mila in my arms and swing her around so that she's settled on my back. She squeals in delight as I walk through the markets.

As we walk, I try to pinpoint the exact moment that friendship was lost between us. The kiss. With Breanna. One moment altered everything. In retaliation, Nathan went after the scholarship I desperately needed. And he got it. That's when everything went downhill.

Spotting the tent I've been searching for, I cut across the walkway and duck under the awning, lightly holding on to Mila's sneakers to ensure she doesn't lose balance.

"Hi Zander," Mrs Crosswell beams. Everybody else calls her Linda, but she taught me back when I was in school, and I can't rewire my brain to address her as anything other than Mrs Crosswell, even though I'm in my mid-twenties.

"Hey," I say.

"What are you after today?"

"Going to browse for a minute," I reply, gently lowering Mila to the ground. Mrs Crosswell makes a fuss over her as usual and Mila thrives under the attention.

Taking my time, I go through the selection of fruit and begin to fill my carboard box.

"How are you doing, Zander?" Mrs Crosswell asks when I place the box down next to the cash register.

"Fine."

She eyes me up and down not-so-subtly with pursed lips. "You looking after yourself?"

I'm not sure what she is referring to. Maybe my dark skin from spending way too much time outside. She could mean the dirt that clings to my hair and stuck under my nails. Perhaps the dark bags under my eyes from restless nights and too much alcohol. Maybe I am starting to look as tired as I feel.

"I am."

"Mmhmm," she says in a tone making sure I know she doesn't believe me. When I hand her the cash, she pats my hand. "You should go out more. Live a little."

Exhaling, I step back. It's great how much everyone loves telling me that the quiet life I live isn't up to their standards.

"See you," I mutter. I look at Mila and incline my head, letting her know it's time to go. She trots after me and reaches up, pressing her tiny hand into my big one. I hold onto it and lead her back out to the path.