He bristles at that. “Yeah? So what?”
That makes me scoff in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” he asks, growing defensive. “It doesn’t mean I’m lying about everything. It just means I like to take things sometimes. It’s a bad habit.”
“It’s a very bad habit where you take things that don’t belong to you.”
“You really mad about it?”
“I mean…” I run a hand through my hair, growing frustrated. “I’d like that coin back. It was from my grandma. You can keep anything else.”
He gives me a small nod, but makes no move to return it, just acknowledges that I want it.
“What else? What do you want to know?”
I try to form my questions, but my inability to communicate immediately puts him off. “You don’t believe me, do you? Fuck! I knew it. No one does.”
“I didn’t say that?—”
“No, you do. You fucking believe that shit he said.”
“I don’t believe it.” But he’s spiraling, his hands tugging his hair, his eyes slightly wild. He doesn’t hear me.
I have to grab his arms and shake him slightly, jarring him out of it.
“Stop it!” I shout, and when he just blinks at me, I soften my tone. “Stop it. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m saying we need proof. It’s why I took that phone call outside…”
“Wh—what?”
“I’m saying no one is going to believe you unless you have proof. Maya called me just now and she says she has what we need?—”
“I thought you were breaking up with me.” He’s surprised and confused and relieved all at the same time. He’s not processing what I’m saying.
“No, I’m not breaking up with you. Actually, are we together? Fuck, are we?” I shake my head, not wanting to get sidetracked. “We can talk about it later. I’m just…we need a plan.” When he just stares at me in disbelief, I shake my head. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you the plan. I have a feeling you’ll blow it.”
“I’ll blow nothing, except you.”
That makes me laugh, and his lips quirk up. “I’m serious, Myles. I’ll blow you. I was so fucking worried. Don’t do that to me. I really like you.”
“I don’t want to be blown. I mean, I do, but not right now. We need to talk.”
“Oh shit. Not again. Talk about what?”
I move him toward the bed and help him sit down, my hands landing on his thighs and tightening slightly.
“When are you going home next?”
“Why?” he asks, still not following. Of course he’s not. I haven’t actually discussed any of this with him. I mean, I’m not even sure this is a good idea, but Maya is sure, and so here I am, going along with it.
“Like I said earlier, I spoke to Maya,” I tell him.
His shoulders tense, but I reach out to comfort him. “I went to her first thing after this all happened.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s nosy and good at her job. She said she’d help.”
“What?” His confusion is palpable. He’s never had anyone believe him before, to be on his side.
