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He shrugs. “Good question. When they started to only speak to each other through me, I realized I had to leave. Thank goodness I got a job quickly… and I had some savings from working all through high school.”

“Aren’t your parents helping you with school?”

“They pay my tuition. But since it was my decision to leave home, they won’t help with rent. And they both blame the other for me leaving.”

I shake my head. That’s so ridiculous. Miles is great—his parents should be proud of his independence. “Do you have siblings?”

“Only child, thankfully. I’d hate for them to have more kids to use as weapons against each other.

” He takes another bite of cake. He looks so hurt, my heart breaks for him.

Maybe I should stop eating and leave the cake for him.

He needs it more than I do. “It’s so stupid,” he says.

“They used to talk about their deep and profound love all the time. Hell, they named me after their relationship.” When I raise a questioning brow, he clarifies.

“There’s this song from when they were young, ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles),’ and it’s all about how far the guy would go for the person he loves.

They also picked the name Miles because it’s not a Muslim or a Hindu name.

My dad’s Hindu, and my mom’s Muslim, and neither of their parents approved of the marriage.

Eventually their families accepted each other, but they said they named me Miles to represent the miles they went through to be together. ”

“That’s so romantic,” I say. “But now they’re miles apart. Even in the same house.”

He nods. We’re quiet for a while. I wonder if his parents loving each other so much is why they’re so toxic to each other now.

Like they’re only capable of enormous feelings for each other.

To be honest, I get why Miles is turned off by that kind of…

demonstrative love and why he hated the festival theme at first. His parents ruined the concepts of love and romance for him.

I have a lot of bitterness from my parents’ divorce, but at least they never used me against each other.

“We’re both named after songs,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Mom named me after the Cream song ‘Sunshine of Your Love’ and the Beatles song ‘Here Comes the Sun.’ They are her two favorite songs, and she listened to them nonstop when she was pregnant. She says that’s why I came out of the womb smiling. I was almost Sunshine Merali.”

He squeezes his lips together, holding in a laugh.

“I know ,” I say. “It’s terrible. Dad insisted on Sana instead because it’s pronounced a bit like sun, and it’s Arabic for “brilliant.” Which is what the sun is.”

Miles looks at me with those intense eyes, again, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face. I smile back at him. It almost feels like he’s going to say something. I wonder if he’ll say the name suits me. I want him to.

When the moment gets too intense, I change the topic. “If your name brings bad memories, you could change it,” I say. “You’re over eighteen.”

“Nah, it pisses them off more than me. I like my name. It’s short. Easy to spell.”

I smile at him. “It suits you.” I can’t imagine him as anyone but Miles.

He still has that tiny smile on his face as he takes another bite of cake. I take one too. This is nice. Not just the cake, but the conversation. Even the silence is nice. This is much better than staying at prom. I was so worried that my prom night memories were ruined, but Miles saved them.

“What’s the story with your prom dress?” he asks after a few moments. “Why did you only get the dress two days ago?”

I sigh. “Did you see the dress Priya’s girlfriend, Amber, was wearing? The one that matched Priya’s? I was supposed to wear that. We bought the dresses when we were still together.”

Miles chuckles. “Wow. That’s a little—”

“Yeah, I know. Cheesy. Anyway, last week Priya asked if Amber could wear my dress, since she and Amber are in love so they should match at prom, not me and Priya. I had a week to find a new dress.”

He cringes. “Ouch. That’s harsh. Why did you give her the dress?”

I shrug. “She had a point; it would have been weird to wear it. I sold it to Amber and found a better dress. It’s fine.”

“Well, I don’t think that dress looked very good on Amber. That is not her color.”

I laugh out loud, shaking my head with amazement. “Look at you, Miles Desai, fashion critic. I still have no idea why Amber gave me that look when we were on the dance floor.”

Miles grins. “Here’s what I think happened: Amber told your ex to get her your dress because she wanted to sabotage your night. But then the dress didn’t fit her well, and you show up looking like… that . I’d say you got the best revenge.”

I raise a brow. “What do you mean… like that ?”

He looks at me. “You said it yourself, Sana. You look fabulous tonight.”

“ I think I look fabulous tonight, but I didn’t think you thought it too.”

“Are you trying to get me to compliment you?”

“Maybe.” I grin at him. “C’mon, Miles, say it. I look hot tonight, and you have no idea what to do with that.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’re impossible, Sana.”

“I know. Would it be easier if I complimented you first?”

He laughs softly.

I turn my body a bit so I’m facing him. “We’re friends now, Miles. And I’m the kind of friend who always tells my friends their strong points. You’re exceedingly good-looking, and you look fantastic in that suit, but I think I liked you in the flowered shirt you wore to High Park best.”

I swear, Miles Desai turns as red as the cake.

He’s… adorable. Too adorable. I exhale. I shouldn’t have said that.

This crush isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

It’s only getting stronger. I turn back and rest my back against the counter.

I take another bite of cake. “This cake is seriously so good,” I say.

We’re both silent for a while again. It’s not as comfortable as it was before. Probably because I made things awkward by flirting.

“I still don’t get how you do it,” Miles says.

“Do what?”

“All of this.” He motions to the cake, then to the flower shop. “Your obsession with love. The romance books. The hearts. Aren’t you at all cynical after your parents split? Or after Priya?”

I look down at the cake. “No, the opposite. Those relationships didn’t work out, so I want to surround myself with love that does work, you know? It feels… good when I read or watch movies about people falling in love. I want to celebrate happiness .”

“It must annoy your mother that you’re all into true love and romance, though. You said she’s not a romantic person.”

I shrug. Does it annoy Mom? She doesn’t read romance.

She’s more into thrillers or thinky literary fiction.

We sometimes watch rom-com movies together.

Honestly, Mom doesn’t seem to have any issue with her romance-obsessed daughter even if it’s not her style.

“Mom’s cool about whatever I’m into. But I don’t think she ever wanted the hearts and flowers kind of love.

Ironic for a florist who specializes in weddings.

She personally agrees with you that prom is just a dance, but since I care about it, she does. ”

Miles takes a bite of cake, then offers the last bite to me. “I actually did look forward to my prom. We even got matching outfits. Do you remember I told you that my ex Giselle cheated on me with my best friend? I found out at our prom.”

I look at him, shocked. “Holy crap! That’s why you hate prom!

” This makes it so amazing that he offered to come to mine.

He’s mentally done with high school, is a total introvert, and had a terrible experience at his own prom.

But he knew I was upset about not having a date, so he asked me anyway.

And he went all the way to his parents’ house to get his suit and made me a corsage out of Lego while there.

Miles is incredibly thoughtful and generous.

I can’t believe he did all that for me. I put the bite of cake in my mouth, because my eyes sting a bit like they are going to tear up.

“Yeah, my terrible night was probably why I was so harsh to you about prom. I left the dance really early. The only saving grace was the takeout we ordered beforehand, because I didn’t even get dinner.”

“So was this a better prom night than your own?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, your prom was way better than mine. Especially this cake part.” We’re both silent for a bit again, the low hum of the flower fridges the only sound in the room.

“You know,” he says suddenly. “You never did answer the question I asked you back when we were working on the proposal. Have you been in love?”

I swallow the cake in my mouth. Moment of truth. “No.”

“No? Not even with your evil clone, Priya?”

I laugh at him calling Priya my clone. “Not even with her.” I sigh. “I’ve been the last relationship before someone meets their true love more times than I’d like to admit. I’m a cliché. I’m obsessed with romance and can’t make a relationship last long enough to fall in love.”

For a beat, he doesn’t say anything. He uses the side of his fork to scrape some icing off the cake board and eats it.

“You know,” he finally says. “For an optimist, you’re not very nice to yourself. What did you say earlier? You’re the kind of friend who always points out her friends’ strong points? Maybe you should treat yourself as well as you treat your friends.”

I look at him, surprised. I know I’ve been negative lately, but I wouldn’t have thought Miles would call me out on it.

When I don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t think the fact that you haven’t been in a serious relationship means you’re, I don’t know, a less serious person.

Relationships are hard work, and we’re both young, so it’s okay if we don’t have it figured out yet.

That’s one of the things I don’t like about movies and books making love seem so easy .

We both know from our parents’ example that staying happy in a relationship while staying true to yourself is hard, and many people aren’t cut out for it.

I think it’s so cool that you haven’t given up on love and that you still want to see everyone around you happy.

You’re not a cliché… you’re kind of an inspiration, Sana.

And maybe you haven’t found a person who is worthy of you yet. ”

I blink at him. I have no idea what to say to that. Miles just called me an inspiration. And I know he really means it. And also, he’s right. Relationships are hard, and we’re young. It’s okay if we’re still figuring them and ourselves out.

I smile. “You… you’re a great friend, Miles.

” I mean that. Yeah, I have a massive crush on this particular friend, but really, more than anything else, I’m so, so grateful to have him in my life now.

“You know, I was supposed to fall in love this summer,” I say.

“I found a fortune cookie fortune that said I would.”

He tilts his head. “Your future doesn’t come from a baked good, Sana,” he says, holding in a laugh.

“You don’t believe in omens?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. I believe in coincidences. Sometimes coincidences make people believe that fate is controlling their lives, but they’re really the only ones in control. There’s no magic to this.”

I exhale. And that’s why, even if we’re friends, Miles and I will always be miles apart.

He doesn’t believe in fortunes or magic and thinks beautiful fields of flowers should be weeded.

And he implied that he’s given up on love.

Even if he miraculously feels the same way about me as I feel about him, he’d eventually get tired of me because we’re too different.

Just like Dad got tired of Mom. Like my parents—we’d be a disaster.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. And tonight Miles has shown me how amazing a friend he is. I don’t want to lose this. I yawn, then rest my head on his shoulder. “Thanks for taking me to my prom. I’m glad you moved to the city. Even if your apartment is crappy.”

“You know what, Sana? I’m glad I moved here too.”

I don’t have to look at him. I can hear the smile on Miles’s face.