Page 87 of The Friend Scheme
“Yep, it really does.”
“Can I ask if you like being a Miller? Or is that too close to asking about your family?”
I mean. Itisasking about my family. And I’m scared about this being a slippery slope. I know Jason is that, for me. The fact that I’m even here shows how much he can sway me. Not that long ago, I was thinking that I shouldn’t hang out with him.
And here I am. Figuring out a way to keep this going.
I trust him. Which might be stupid.
But I do.
“I’m the black sheep of my family,” I say. “So yeah. I’m like you. I don’t like it. From now on, though, I don’t want to talk about my family with you, okay? That’s my rule. If you ever ask me about them, I’ll ghost you.”
“Deal.”
He stares at me for a moment, with a small smile on his face.
“What?” I say.
“I thought I was the only one,” he says. “It’s nice to know I’m not. And I just really like you, man. Thank you so much for not dropping me over this.”
Tears fill my eyes. I don’t even know why.
It’s such a perfect thing to hear.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I blink rapidly. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve just never really had a good friend before. I’m not sure if you know that. So this is all messy now, but it’s more than I’ve ever had. I’m just really glad we’re staying friends. Sorry, I’m being a sap.”
He laughs. “You’re being yourself, which is the best thing you can be around me. So please, be a sap, if you want. Doesn’t bother me.”
“Careful,” I say. “I can get really mushy sometimes, so you might start to regret that.”
“Trust me, I won’t,” he says. “Whatever you want to be, I’m here for it. Well, I think the rules have been firmly established. Now, want to go on some rides?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Jason and I ended up spending about an hour and a half at the fair.
We went on a few rides, played a few games, and won some candy, and then we had corn dogs and two giant cups of Coke.
It’s been so much fucking fun.
And now I have a fairly epic sugar high.
At least I think that’s what it is.
We weren’t done with the night yet, so now we’re going for a walk. After escaping the crowds of the fair, we headed for the palm-tree-lined tourist strip, right by the beach where we first went swimming all those weeks ago. In the distance, there’s a neon-drenched strip of bars, and past that, towering skyscrapers.
“Do you like Florida?” he asks.
“What makes you ask?”
He shrugs. “Just curious.”
I look around. I mean, it is pretty picturesque at the moment. This spot is, at least.
“I mean, yeah? I hate the humidity, but it’s still home, you know?”
