I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE FUNNY | ✓

▬ 29

SURRENDER

            I poke another daisy onto Miles's hair. It's not quite long enough and too straight to hold onto the flowers and two fall when he turns his head from the surface of the lake. 'Stop moving,' I complain, but Miles only smiles. 'But I wanna look at you.'

With my cheeks burning, I pick up the last yarrow flower and tuck it behind his ear. I pluck the two fallen daisies from the planks and gently place them back in their place. He looks pretty with the flowers in his hair, the white petals contrasted against black strands in a way that's almost reminiscent of the night sky except also the complete opposite.

They all fall into a halo around him when I drop against his chest. My knees clash against his as I shove my face into his sternum. 'If God had any sense of justice, They'd reverse Bible and turn me into one of your ribs.'

A laugh ribbons from Miles. 'Then I'm glad They don't.'

'You don't want me to be your rib?'

'How am I s'posed to date my own bones?' The amusement in his voice is more boisterous this time but it isn't cruel, he isn't going to call me a freak. 

'So you don't love me.' My face sets on fire. I snap upright and shift a little away from him so that our knees lose contact. 'No, sorry, I didn't mean–! I just– It was a joke.'

Miles smiles to let me know it's alright, that he knows. He moves forward and presses our knees back together. Without a word, he takes my hands and turns them so my palms are open to the sky. I stare at him and, sensing my eyes, Miles glances up and shrugs a single shoulder — I just wanna look at them. He traces the dark lines in my skin.

'I think I will.'

'Huh?'

'Love you.'

The final parts of me that have remained solid through the afternoon melt. It's surprising that I don't seep like ice cream into the gaps between the planks; Miles turns me into a Sweetzone orange slice that'll turn to goo in the sun but I don't mind. The rough skin I've wrapped myself in would be much nicer replaced with sugar.

My lip between my teeth is what corners me back into a solid state. I try to focus on his hands studying mine but the question knocks against my molars until I release it. 'What about your mum?' His thumb falls still on my knuckles and a second hangs in the air like a raincloud before Miles looks up, eyebrows pinched. 'What's she gonna think if you don't go to uni?'

He shrugs. 'She'll be angry about it, but then she'll realise that she needs me around.'

            When we stagger through the door to Barua's Market hours later, I still can't walk straight. The chime of the bell is as distant as those from the church. The tiny crevice at the back of my mind capable of coherent thought notes to be thankful that only four other shoppers are adrift between the shelves, because, moments later when we reach the sweets shelf and, with no established plan to do so, each grab the other's pastels, I can't help but bend over with laughter.

It pours out of me without a single obstacle. The packet of liquorice Fisherman's Friends crumples in my fist as I grab the shelf for support. Miles ushers me to collect myself with uneven whispers, pulling me upright to grab my free hand and cram the Parma Violets tube into it.

'Do you wanna be my boyfriend?'

My laughter ends with the flick of a switch. I stop breathing altogether only to gasp for breath like a man pulled to the shore seconds before drowning.