The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(6)

I found a smile. “Ready for cake?”

I cut slices of strawberry cake with vanilla icing, and Miller and I ate and talked some more. I nearly made him spew Coke out his nose laughing, telling him about the time one of the skater dudes, Frankie Dowd, tried to jump his board off the lunch table in the cafeteria and fell, sending trays of food flying into people’s laps.

“It set off a food fight,” I said. “Oh my God, the principal was pissed and tried to give the entire seventh grade detention all at once.”

Miller laughed harder. I loved his laugh; it sounded good in his scratchy voice and his entire face lit up. That stressed-out tension went away, just for a few minutes, and that made me feel like I’d done something even better than giving him food.

We ate until we were stuffed, and Miller heaved a sigh. “Crap, that was good…” A thought seemed to occur to him, and that damn worry swept right back over him again. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do.” He got to his feet and shouldered his backpack. “Thanks for the food. And the cake.”

“Thanks for eating it with me, so I don’t feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Miller said fiercely, then jammed his hands in his pockets. “Do you think maybe I can take another piece with me?”

“Take the whole thing. I don’t want it.”

“No,” he said, his voice low. “I’m not taking your birthday cake. Just one piece. For my mom.”

“Oh. Of course.” I wrapped a piece of cake in napkins and handed it to him. “Miller…?”

“Don’t,” he said, putting the cake into his backpack.

“How do you know what I was about to say?”

“I know what you’re going to ask but don’t bother. Tonight was a good night. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Telling me where you live would mess it up?”

“Yeah, it would. Trust me. Might mess us up.”

“Us?”

“Being friends,” he said quickly. “You might not want to be friends with me.”

“I doubt that, but okay. I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

For now.

“Thanks. And thanks for the cake.”

“Sure,” I said. He started toward the window, and I bit my lip. “See you tomorrow?”

“You want me to come back?” His blue eyes lit up for a quick second, then he offered a careless shrug. “Yeah. Maybe.”

I rolled my eyes and clasped my hands in front of me. “Oooh, maybe. So I’ll just wait up all night for you, hoping and praying and pining for you to come back.”

He laughed a little. “You’re so weird.”

“And you’re grouchy. We sort of fit. Don’t we?”

He nodded, his eyes dark in the dimness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to climb out the window.

“Hey, wait!” I said, stopping him. “I didn’t ask your last name. Is it a first name? Ted? John…? Oh! Is your name Miller Henry?”

He smirked. “It’s Stratton.”

“Mine is McNamara. Nice to meet you, Miller Stratton.”

He smiled but turned his head away before I could see all of it.

“Happy Birthday, Violet.”





Oh my God, Diary, that was nuts!!! I just snuck a boy in my room! We talked and ate and laughed, and I feel like I’ve known him forever. I don’t know how else to explain it. Like when I met Shiloh, and we were friends right away. Miller’s not like any other boy at school, who makes dumb sex jokes and plays video games all day. He’s deep. No, that sounds cheesy. He has depth.

His grouchiness doesn’t bother me either, and he didn’t mind—too much—that I asked a million questions. Even so, he’s still kind of a mystery. Like it could take years to get to know all of him, I think. He wouldn’t tell me where he lived. I get the feeling he and his mom are poor since he was so hungry, and his clothes are in bad shape. But all the houses around here are huge. He can’t have walked very far to get here.

I invited him back tomorrow. I hope he comes. I want to give him some more food without making it look like he’s my charity case. But mostly, I want to talk to him more. I want to get to know him and let him get to know me. I mean, how often does that happen? Getting to know a brand-new person…that’s kind of like opening a birthday present.

Speaking of which, I now have two friends.

Happy Birthday to me!





ii





Miller came back that night and the night after that, and for the next two months solid, as the summer came closer to its end. My first friend, Shiloh, lived with her Grandma but spent every summer in Louisiana visiting relatives, so Miller slipped into her vacancy perfectly.

We hung out in my room at night, eating snacks—Miller was always hungry. I studied and he wrote in an old, bent notebook. He never showed me what he was writing, and I never snooped. But once I caught a flash of a page and saw what looked like poetry.

Most days, we walked to downtown, or we went to the Boardwalk and played video games in the arcade before walking along the beach. Other times, Miller was busy doing odd jobs around town to make money to help his mom. He said she worked at the diner on 5th but he never brought me over there to meet her.