Page 78 of Paint Our Song

“Yes,” her grandma says. Miles makes a bewildered look at Calvin. “It was ringing and ringing, and I couldn’t hear myself think.”

Exhaling deeply, the young woman pinches the spot between her eyebrows. She switches the phone on, puts it back on the table, and an array of beeps comes. Notifications which were waiting to be received. She turns back to Miles and says, “We’ve got you for tomorrow. First thing in the morning, and we’ll be there.”

After thanking her, they step out of the store, and Miles gives a huge sigh of relief.

“What else do you need to do?” Calvin asks.

“That’s all I needed to check for Gabby.”

He glances around the empty street. There are rows of shop-houses and small cafes, all of which are deserted right now. “Want to check out the shops? You could get something for Chase and Gil. Or your family.”

Was there anybody else in his life who’s as important? He wants to know everything there is to know about Calvin.

Calvin shrugs. “Sure.”

“We could go to the gym, too.” It’s nearby, isn’t it? Calvin, all sweaty and panting, is a view he wouldn’t turn down.

“I’m not working out in jeans. Do you even know where it is?”

“Sure,” he lies. Miles isn’t actually all that interested in going to the gym. He’s not as dedicated as Calvin is, with his toned arms and narrow hips, and those strong legs, and—

“Miles?” Calvin asks. He’s already a few feet away, holding the door to a souvenir shop. “You okay?”

“Yes!” Miles chases after him.

Calvin ends up buying too many cat keychains that he insists are for his sisters. He blushes when he notices Miles staring and shovesthe keychains in his pocket.

“Do you have a pet cat?” Miles asks.

“No. We had one when we were young that always followed me around, and ever since, my dad’s been convinced I’m obsessed with them. He keeps buying me everything to do with cats. Just got into the habit, too, I guess.”

“It’s cute,” he says, before his brain can catch up with his mouth.

“It’s not—” Calvin turns away. “Shut up.”

The next store they head to is a small thrift store selling clothes. They both browse around without the intention of actually getting anything, and the young lady behind the counter recognizes Calvin. She snaps a photo of him when he’s not looking, but Miles notices.

The two of them stare at each other for a moment, and she sheepishly puts away her phone. Miles doesn’t blame her, though. He would’ve done the exact same thing—still does. When he thinks Calvin won’t notice it, he takes pictures of him. Miles even has a picture of him half-asleep in the inn’s lounge.

The next store they step into is a music store. It’s small and crowded and has rows of guitars, keyboards, and other equipment. Miles wonders if this is the type of place Calvin likes hanging out in, but he has the same uninterested expression he did with the thrift store. Still, he strolls around, glancing at everything.

“Hey!” A young boy who barely reaches their elbows walks right up to Calvin, squeezing between the narrow aisles. He almost knocks a guitar over. “I know you!”

Calvin’s hand freezes over an electric guitar he was checking out. He turns to the boy, recomposes himself, and his shoulders slacken. “Hello. How are you?”

He smiles, and it’s so much softer and so much less-guarded than it usually is. It’s different from how he is when he’s suddenly ambushed by multiple people, asking for his photo.

Calvin clearly likes kids, and it does a stupid funny thing to Miles’s heart. He watches from the other end of the aisle. The boy is talking too fast, waving his arms excitedly, and he holds his fist out. Calvin knocks it with his own fist, and Miles can’t take it. His chest is going to burst, so he turns away and makes his way to a shelf of guitar picks. Maybe there’s one with a cat design.

He finds a wooden pick engraved with the silhouette of a cat, and that works.

Miles takes it to the cashier where there’s a man leaning his arms against the counter and carefully watching Calvin and the boy.

“Your kid?” Miles asks.

“Nephew.” He slides the guitar pick across the counter, back to Miles. “On the house.”

“Thanks?” It doesn’t cost much, but he’s still caught off-guard.