Promise Me Sunshine

by Cara Bastone

“Talking to yourself?” Miles asks dryly. “Well, I have to. God’s not picking up my calls ever since I tried to rope her into that MLM.” “I never have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Something good for you.” He points at the oatmeal. “Something bad for you.” He points at the croissant. “And a change of scenery.” He points at the bakery. “Huh?” “It’s hard-won wisdom. A formula I figured out in my dark days. One I still need sometimes. When everything is going dark and you can’t understand why…when the grief catches up to you again…Or when your sister shouts at you and you feel like the world’s biggest tool. Just remember. Something good for you, something bad for you, and a change of scenery. That’s the winning formula.”

Did this horrific picture of me scare you away? I ask after a while. Come on. Pic for pic. Eat dinner, he texts back. Boring. Send nudes. There’s soy sauce in the cabinet if you need it, he texts. When I get back to my phone there’s a text waiting for me from Miles. It’s a very close-up picture of the pasta he’s eating for dinner. Not those kinds of noods! I text him.

OH MY GOD KISS ALREADY

Finally, I’m free and I jingle the keys, grinning up at him. He glances at me and then away. And yes. Those are pink cheeks. He blushes and he’s ticklish. I literally can’t wait to ponder this later.

Kicking my feet and giggling

Miles has his hands in his pockets and he’s standing a few feet back, like he doesn’t want to get in the way of this beautiful moment. How silly. Doesn’t he know that he’s one quarter of this beautiful moment? I elbow him forward.

Jericho is drunkenly pontificating on Chris Evans’s brilliance as an actor.

He sighs and pulls the back of his shirt up over his head, stopping when it gets down to his elbows. My eyes get stuck on his stomach, the bit of chest hair I can see. This is probably obvious by now, but there’s a lot of man on that man. He looks up at me, all bare shoulders and tousled hair, a wry expression on his face. “We came for matching tattoos.”

EATING MY SHOE

“I didn’t know there was supposed to be weather tonight.” “That wasn’t weather. That was God asserting her masculinity!”

“So you’ll come with me if I ask?” His eyes pierce me in the shadows of the kitchen. “Lenny, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

“Lenny, when I look at your face, I feel like I’m finally home after a really long day at work.”