I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE FUNNY | ✓

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'Yeah, I just took them.'

'What?'

The alarm in his voice finally seizes my eyes to his. 'I assume you'll take them back when you're done.' He shakes his head incredulously and I bristle. 'I was just tryin to do somethin nice.'

Miles stares at me like he can't quite grasp that this is real life, then exhales a laugh. 'It's the thought that counts.'

We stand there, watching each other.

He holds the base of both books with his right hand and slaps them against the palm of his left. 'Did you try to come by earlier?'

'I was tryin to give you the books.' There's tension in his expression I can't decipher. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you in trouble.'

'No,' he says, far too quickly. 'My mum's just a bit– She has these episodes where she's, like, paranoid.' He waves a hand of dismissal. 'Not important.'

Paranoid? So what he definitely doesn't need is another paranoid person in his life. Not that I'm "in his life", I don't even want to be in his stupid life.

Just as I'm about to leave, he gestures at the path behind him. 'You wanna come with?'

'I can't run.' As if I need to tell him that after he saw me nearly pass out after a hundred metres.

'Could walk.'

My brain has already compiled a list of one hundred reasons why I shouldn't but then I do. I swing my arms to expel the anxiety building in me. Then I realise how stupid it looks so I pin them to my sides, which also looks stupid. Why do I even have arms?

I rack my brain for something to break the awkward tension with (don't ask about his dream though). 'Why the library?'

'There's a recession and this town is the size of an anthill.'

'Go back to Leeds if it's so much better.'

Miles smiles. Why does he always smile when I'm outright rude to him? Can't he ever insult me back like a normal person? 'I only meant there ain't exactly a booming job market...'

Yeah, I know that first-hand. If there was, I'd still happily hate him and now I'm not sure.

Before I can admit he's right, he adds, 'For what it's worth, I would gladly go back to Leeds. It's not like I wanted to come here.'

I cross my arms to cover the gaping wound in my chest. It's not like we wanted you here either. 'What's so great about it?'

'It ain't a Tory breeding ground, first of all.'

I scoff. 'If you didn't hang out with rich white boys, maybe you'd discover that there are plenty of non-Tories here.'

A laugh hums in the depths of his throat and he nods. 'There's also more to do. I miss our Asian market. Barua's is fine,' he adds, predicting my response. 'But there ain't loads of Viet food there. Also none of you people understand owt I say, it's exhausting.'

'It's not my fault you speak stupid,' I grumble. 'You don't even use real words. You've bare made them up, innit.'

'Aye. That's how words work.'

I glare at him but it thaws within seconds. I kind of like being schooled by Kilometres.

We reach the vandalised Thatcher billboard and I instinctively go to turn. But Miles has no idea Summer exists, which means I instead walk right into him.

I jump back. 'Sorry. Sorry, I–' How am I supposed to explain this without telling him about Summer, which I definitely don't want him to know? My face is on fire. 'Sorry.'