Meant For You

thirty-four.

He looks around uneasily. "C'mon, it's fun. Let's go over here!" I drag Miles over to the Eiffel Tower first. One of my personal favorites. We participate in the little activities it has to offer and I think I actually see him smile. "One beignet please!" I ask a lady behind one of the counters. Before Miles is able to, I place two dollars into the tip jar. He narrows his eyes at me but I just smile.

When she hands us the beignet, I take it out of the baggie and give some to Miles. "Have you had one of these before?" He shakes his head. I've been watching what I'm eating but when it comes to cheering him up, I'll break my diet for a beignet. "My dad is from New Orleans and I used to beg him to take me to get a beignet every time we were visiting my grandparents."

He looks at the sugary bread in his hand. "It's all sugar, Scott. What can be so good about this?" I roll my eyes and raise the pastry to his mouth. "Eat." He raises a brow, "Yes ma'am." I take a bite out of my piece at the same time he does. He chews and chews and chews until he finally swallows. "That's actually pretty good," he says, taking another bite. My work here is done.

Well almost.

After we finish our beignets, I take him over to the Arc and we snap some pictures. If you take them at the right angles, it actually looks like you're there. Of course, I had to force him to take pictures. Supposedly he's not a picture type of guy but I've seen his Instagram. He modeled for freaking Rolex.

Finally, we get to Louvre and I force him to snap one more picture with me. He leans his head on mine and we both smile. "Beautiful!" I say, smiling at all the new photos in my camera roll. "Yeah," he breathes. I look over at him and he's looking down at me. "Did you know Louvre is my brother's favorite place to go in Paris? Moms too. They're art fanatics," I tell him.

It's been a while since we've gone to Paris and I'm starting to miss it. "Really? Kayce's into art?" Miles asks, sounding surprised. I nod, walking through the small hall of the fake Louvre. Real-fake paintings are hung closer together than they are at the actual museum. "I would've never guessed he was into art," Miles admits as he follows me. "My brother is a really interesting individual. No one really expects him to be the way he is," I say.

People tend to be surprised by some of my brother's interests. They hear that he's a baseball player and swimmer and immediately think jock. He's more than that.

He's amazing at school, probably the smartest person I know but I won't ever tell him that. He loves art, music, and books. I think he's read 35 this year so far. Traveling is also something he enjoys but can't really do since he's so young. His mind is also complicated. Only certain people understand him and his personality.

Dad for example. Uncle Ripley even more.

"You're telling me he could tell me what this painting is about?" He points to one of the paintings in front of us. I've seen it before at the Louvre and yes, Kayce could explain it to him easily. "He could. I can too actually." Miles raises a curious brow, crossing his arms across his chest. "You can?" I nod. "I listen when people I love tell me about the things they enjoy." It's the truth.

When he makes no move to tell me to explain it to him, I do anyway. Ship of Fools painted by Hieronymus Bosch. Not one of my brother's favorite but I've heard enough about it. After I finish telling Miles about the painting, he's smiling at me. "Damn, Scott. You really do pay attention." I'm surprised that he's surprised. As much as I love to talk, I'm also a great listener.

The two of us walk along the paintings as I name them off to him. I've been to Louvre and here enough to know them by memory. "Here let me get a picture of you next to the Mona Lisa," Miles says, pulling out his phone. A smile lifts my lips because he's asking me to take a picture. This whole time it's been the other way around. I walk over to the picture and grin. Miles does too as he snaps the picture. "Nice."

"Paris is beautiful this time of year around isn't it," I quip, grabbing onto his arm as we walk the path over to the chapel. "Sure is," Miles jokes back as we step into the church. I point at the ceiling for him to look. Stained-glass windows hang above and around, colorful and mesmerizing. "Wow," he says. His jaw clenches and unclenches, a more beautiful sight than the stained glass to me.

"Maybe I should add Paris to my list of places I'd like to travel to," he admits, glancing back down at me. "Be my tour guide?" he adds. I hate that my face flushes at his words but with him saying that and us touching, how could I not? "Sure." He winks and then he's the one leading me around multiple stands, acting like I'm the one who's never been here before.

A worker advises us that the place is going to close soon so Miles leads me to the one place we haven't been yet. The Photo Booth. "Here." He hands me a baguette as he grabs other props from the basket. I put in a five-dollar bill and choose a background for our pictures. I'm laughing my ass off when he turns around with a paper mustache on his upper lip. "Can't grow one yourself?"

He rolls his eyes. "Please. I can grow one." Dipping his hand into the basket, he pulls out a dark green beret and places it on top of my head. He smiles, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he stares at me. "Cute, Scott." Luckily, he turns before he can see my face flush again. I press start on the screen and a countdown from five starts.

We take the goofiest pictures, removing our props for the final two. For the first one, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and leans his head on top of mine. The two of us smile at the camera until after the snap. Neither of us comes up with an idea for the second one so I move in front of his chest and stick out my tongue. Miles wraps his arm around me again and flips off the camera.

"We're definitely printing those," I chuckle, hitting the print button on the screen. Miles exists the small space first and we wait for our pictures to be printed. He beats me to them when they finally print. "Who's keeping it?" he questions as we begin to walk out of Au revoir. "Uhm, me, duh." I snatch the photo strip from his hands.

The cold air hits my skin when the door opens. Was it this cold when we got here? I quickly walk to my car and I hear Miles chuckle behind me. As soon as my ass is on the seat, I'm closing the door and turning on the car. Miles gets in a couple of seconds later. "You're so dramatic." My mouth gapes open as I turn on my seat warmers and the hot air.

"It's cold as fuck out there. Sorry, we're not all from cold Canada," I retort, rubbing my hands against my bare things to get them warm. I should have changed into some sweats before I left the apartment. "You're assuming just because I'm from Canada that I'm used to the cold? Vancouver gets really warm. It's not always freezing, Scott. We get sun too."

Duh. I knew that.

"Ou, wanna get ice cream?" The great idea comes to me all of a sudden. Miles laughs at that. "You're complaining that it's cold and you want ice cream?" he asks, completely bamboozled. "You can never go wrong with some vanilla ice cream, Miles," I declare, pulling out of the parking lot. I think there's a creamery nearby. "You surprise me every day," he says. When I look at him, there's still a small smile on his face.

Make Miles smile: Check!

"We can go get ice cream."
I have never heard six sweeter words in my life.