How to Fall in Love ✔

FROM THE VAULT || miles in the past (ii)

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hey y'all, this is chapter 2 of miles' spin-off that i posted before. you know the drill—this was written ~10 years ago and has never been edited/touched since. this, truly, completely, absolutely, in its rawest form, is a piece from the vault—a relic from the past, only now revisited.

hope you enjoy it in all its clichéd, cringe-worthy, crackbrained glory. roll your eyes and pucker your eyebrows. laugh and scoff. it's all part of the ride <3

your age-stippled #fia captain,

myka

p.s. this relic is a glimpse of teenage myka's questionable desire to write a manic pixie dream girl. i think she succeeded (at the cost of her own sanity).

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m i l e s '  p o v

[  l i n g e r  ]

"YOU ALMOST ENDED up in Wisconsin."

"That I did."

"And you met a girl."

"Yes, I did."

"And she took your jacket."

"That she did."

"And you're smitten with her—so you want to know where she is."

I rolled my eyes. "I want to know where she is because she took my jacket, Brad. That jacket's worth three hundred dollars. It gets wet, you squeeze it, it's not wet anymore. I need it. It's my mantra."

Brad looked at me funny as we ambled our way to the university's garden-cafeteria, the sun as high up in the east and glaring daggers at our skin through the useless dome, negating the volatile downpour of Friday, three days ago. Brad chose a spot near the circular fountain espousing the ramblings of Cupid carved into Cupid himself situated in the center, with his bow arched and level with his shoulders.

I rolled my eyes again as we sat down. "What is it with you and this stupid statue?"

He sighed. "Dude, shut up. You call it stupid, but you pretty much live by its sayings."

"Live by its sayings?" I laughed, now my turn to look at Brad funny. "Name at least three and tomorrow's lunch is on me."

He grimaced. "Three's too many—"

"Seems like you're lying, then."

Brad drew a sharp sigh, shooting me a dark look. "Fine. You need three, right? Fine, I'll give you three."

He then turned around to read the ten sayings plastered against Cupid's burly stomach. I shook my head at him as he counted on his fingers, feeding myself with the usual order—a tabby cheeseburger that oozed with ketchup and sliced-up onions. When he turned back around, I quirked an eyebrow at his determined look—and a quite triumphant one, at that.

"What'd you got?" I challenged, voice tipping on mockery.

Brad was too smug to care. "When you love someone, you better tell them."