Chapter 8: The Porch Swing

Hazel's POV

Pete's graduation party filled the whole backyard behind the old duplex.

He had hung paper lanterns from the fence and borrowed four grills.

There were fifty people and a hundred burgers, and all of it was Pete's responsibility.

Gran had gone back to the motel with Miles's mother at eight.

She had hugged me for a full minute first.

"You eat something," she said. "You're all bone."

I ate half a burger and then slipped away to the porch swing at the side of the house, where the lanterns didn't reach.

My ears were ringing from the party and from the one sentence in my head.

God, you're so annoying.

I had heard it twice, with Miles's mouth shut both times.

I sat on the swing and pushed one foot against the boards, and I tried to think.

The porch creaked.

"Ten days are over," Miles said.

He stood at the top of the steps with his hands in his pockets, in a clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"I know," I said.

"I can leave."

"Come here."

He crossed the porch in three steps and sat down next to me, and the swing shifted under his weight.

For a minute, neither of us said anything. We listened to the party.

"The terms are over," I said.

"Yes."

"So I'm going to break one."

I put my hand on his face.

His skin was warm, with a rough edge along his jaw where he had shaved too fast. He closed his eyes under my palm.

"Hazel," he said, hoarse.

I kissed him.

For one second, he went completely still.

Then his hand came up into my hair, careful at first.

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