f*****g straight-lace dweeb. He’s standing by the car, all nervous. What’s he nervous about? I glance at Sophie, and my smile threatens to widen, but I force it down.
“I don’t know,” I say with a disagreeable frown. “Maybe I should see it done first or something.”
“Don’t mess with me,” Miles spits. “Just come here and let’s get it over with.” He holds out a hand.
“That’s not how to do it, Miles,” Sophie calls out.
“See?” I hold up my hand as proof, and he shoots me a glare before turning to her.
“It’s just holding hands. How hard can it be?”
“When two people hold hands, it’s different from how lovers do,” she explains with zero confidence. This might be the longest she’s ever spoken to Miles, and I can’t tell if that’s nervousness or happiness on her face. Would she glow even more if
