“I have a favor to ask,” I say quickly.
He nods immediately. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
I laugh lightly. “Whatever I want?”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask,” he teases.
“I want you to glare at Ginny until she puts her phone away.” I smirk.
“Done.”
He turns all his attention to Ginny, who has her hair piled high in a cascade of blonde curls while she bites her bottom pink lip. Her phone screen is reflected in her glasses. Milo’s eyes turn harsh as his brows hunch hard over his glare.
A minute passes.
“You want to give up?” I ask mirthfully.
He answers by not blinking.
After three minutes, Ginny finally looks up slightly and then startles, her phone becoming a hot potato in her hands.
I burst into laughter, holding the book up to cover my face, then grab Milo’s hand and pull him with me around the corner into the computer lab.
His body brushes up against mine for a quick second as he tumbles in behind me, my flesh suddenly static. I drop his hand.
“Anything else?” he asks, grinning.
He’s so close. I could reach out and touch him. Could trace his jaw up to his eyebrow where I know there’s a raised scar from when he was a kid and he busted his face against a curb after falling off his bicycle. Could run my fingers through his hair.
My jaw has gone slack, and I snap it back up.
“Um, I actually do have a favor to ask.” My voice is breathless as I lower my gaze to the floor, catching Milo flexing his hand, and I can’t help but wonder if he’d wanted to reach for me, too.
“What is it?”
I’ve been thinking about what Milo said on Sunday. How some things don’t leave you. How he knew me when I didn’t want the ground to hold me but wanted to fly free.
I clear my throat, looking back up at him. “You know the list?”
He tilts his head.
“The list that you swiped from my back pocket,” I say, playfully scolding him with every word.
“Oh, that list,” he says with an ornery smile.
“No one knows about the list but you.”
His eyebrows arch. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” I confirm. “And I’ve been marking things off as I try new things.”
“So, what’s the favor?” He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.
“The truth is—” I straighten my shoulders. “The truth is I need help from someone who remembers me before things got smaller.”
Milo’s expression softens, something careful settling into his blue eyes. “Smaller?”
“I need someone who can help me remember who I was,” I add quietly, looking away. “And I think you can.”
