Amelia's POV
The weeks that follow that night at the party are different. I can't put my finger on what changed but I know I've stopped hating being around Miguel. Not that I truly hated it in the beginning, to my eternal dismay.
We haven't spoken much since that night, our conversations still centered around him teasing me seven ways to Sunday and my squirmy and exasperated sarcastic responses but we've fallen into a rhythm. I leave a glass of mango juice on the table for him every morning by the time he comes down and he doesn't smoke in the car. He walks me to my locker before going about his business. Whoever gets to the cafeteria first helps the other get their lunch. We sit beside each other in the classes we share. If I'm his babysitter, he is my shadow. Except when he is ch
