I make sure to tack a smile onto th

I make sure to tack a smile onto the end of that word. I don’t want him to think I’m upset that he came, but it’s hard for me not to appear closed off when I’m around him, since I’m trying so hard to be.
He looks straight ahead, and I look back down at my book.
Thirty minutes pass, and the movement of the car accompanied by my attempt to read is making my head hurt. I set the book down beside me and readjust myself in the backseat. I lean my head back and prop my feet up on the console between Miles and Corbin. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, and his eyes feel like they’re hands, running over every inch of me. He holds his stare for no longer than two seconds, then looks back at the road.
I hate this.
I have no idea what’s going through his head. He never smiles. He never laughs. He doesn’t flirt. His face appears as if he keeps a constant veil of armor between his expressions and the rest of the world.
I’ve always been a sucker for the quiet types of guys. Primarily because most guys talk too much, and it’s painful having to suffer through every single thought that goes through their heads. Miles makes me wish he were the opposite of the quiet type, though. I want to know all the thoughts that pass through his head. Especially the one thought that’s in there right now, hiding behind that unwavering, stoic expression.
I’m still staring at him in the rearview mirror, trying to figure him out, when he glances at me again. I look down at my phone, a little embarrassed that he caught me staring at him. But that mirror is like a magnet, and dammit if my eyes don’t shoot back up to it.
The second I look into the mirror again, so does he.
I look back down.
Shit.
This drive is about to be the longest drive of my entire life.
I make it three minutes, then I look again.
Shit. So does he.
I smile, amused by whatever game this is we’re playing.
He smiles, too.
He.
Smiles.
Too.
Miles looks back at the road, but his smile remains for several seconds. I know, because I can’t stop staring at it. I want to take a picture of it before it disappears again, but that would be weird.
He lowers his arm to rest it on the console, but my feet are in his way. I push up on my hands. “Sorry,” I say, as I begin to pull them back.
His fingers wrap around my bare foot, stopping me. “You’re fine,” he says.
His hand is still wrapped around my foot. I’m staring at it.
Holy hell, his thumb just moved. Deliberately moved, stroking the side of my foot. My thighs clench together and my breath halts in my lungs and my legs tense, because I’ll be damned if his hand didn’t just caress my foot before he pulled it away.
I have to chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
I think you’re attracted to me, Miles.
• • •

As soon as we arrive at my parents’ place, my father puts Corbin and Miles to work hanging Christmas lights. I take our things into the house and give Corbin and Miles my room, since it’s the only one with two beds. I take Corbin’s old bedroom, then head to the kitchen to help my mom finish prepping dinner.
Thanksgiving has always been a small affair at our house. Mom and Dad didn’t like having to choose between families, and my dad was hardly ever home, since a pilot’s busiest times of year are the holidays. My mother decided Thanksgiving would be reserved for immediate family only, so every year on Thanksgiving Day, it’s always just been me, Corbin, Mom, and Dad, when Dad is home. Last year, it was just Mom and me, since Dad and Corbin were both working.
This year, it’s all of us.
And Miles.
It’s strange, him being here like this. Mom seemed happy to meet him, so I guess she didn’t mind too much. My dad loves everyone, and he’s more than happy to have someone else helping with the Christmas lights, so I know the presence of a third person doesn’t bother him in the least.
My mother passes me the pan of boiled eggs. I begin cracking them to prepare them for deviled eggs, and she leans across the kitchen island and rests her chin in her hands. “That Miles sure is a looker,” she says with an arch of her eyebrow.
Let me explain something about my mother. She’s a great mom. A really great mom. But I have never been comfortable talking to her about guys. It started when I was twelve and I got my first period. She was so excited she called three of her friends to tell them before she even explained what the hell was happening to me. I learned pretty early on that secrets aren’t secrets once they reach her ears.
“He’s not bad,” I say, completely lying. I’m absolutely lying, because he is a looker. His golden-brown hair paired with those mesmerizing blue eyes, his broad shoulders, the scruff that lines his firm jaw when he’s had a couple of days off work, the way he always smells so fantastically delicious, like he just stepped out of the shower and hasn’t even towel-dried yet.
Oh, my God.
Who the hell am I right now?
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
I shrug. “I don’t really know him, Mom.”

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Saya pastikan untuk taktik senyum ke ujung kata itu. Saya tidak ingin dia berpikir aku 'm kecewa bahwa ia datang, tapi sulit bagi saya untuk tidak muncul tertutup off ketika saya di sekelilingnya, karena aku sedang berusaha sangat keras untuk menjadi.Dia tampak lurus ke depan, dan saya melihat kembali buku saya.Tiga puluh menit melewati, dan gerakan mobil disertai dengan usaha saya untuk membaca ini membuat saya sakit kepala. Aku meletakkan buku di samping saya dan menyesuaikan diri di kursi belakang. Aku bersandar kepala saya kembali dan menopang kaki saya pada konsol antara mil dan Corbin. Ia pandang saya di kaca spion dan matanya merasa seperti mereka tangan, berjalan di atas setiap inci dari saya. Ia memegang menatap nya tidak lebih dari dua detik, kemudian tampak kembali di jalan.Aku benci ini.Saya tak memiliki ide apa yang sedang terjadi melalui kepala. Dia tidak pernah tersenyum. Dia tidak pernah tertawa. Ia tidak menggoda. Wajahnya muncul seolah-olah dia membuat tabir konstan armor antara ekspresi dan seluruh dunia.Aku selalu sucker untuk tenang jenis orang. Terutama karena sebagian besar orang berbicara terlalu banyak, dan itu menyakitkan harus menderita melalui setiap satu pikiran yang masuk melalui kepala mereka. Miles membuat saya berharap dia adalah kebalikan dari jenis yang tenang, meskipun. Saya ingin tahu semua pikiran yang melewati kepalanya. Terutama satu pikiran yang ada di sana sekarang, bersembunyi di balik ungkapan itu tak tergoyahkan, tabah.Aku 'm masih menatap dia di kaca spion, mencoba mencari dia, Kapan ia pandang saya lagi. Saya melihat ke bawah pada telepon saya, sedikit malu bahwa Dia memergoki aku menatap kepadanya. Tetapi cermin itu adalah seperti magnet, dan sialan jika mata saya tidak menembak kembali ke itu.Kedua aku melihat ke dalam cermin lagi, begitu juga dia.Aku melihat kembali ke bawah.Kotoran.Drive ini adalah tentang menjadi yang terpanjang drive dari seluruh hidup saya.Saya membuat tiga menit, kemudian saya melihat lagi.Kotoran. Jadi Apakah dia.Aku tersenyum, geli oleh apa pun permainan ini adalah kita bermain.Dia tersenyum, terlalu.Dia.Tersenyum.Terlalu.Miles tampak kembali di jalan, tapi tetap tersenyum selama beberapa detik. Aku tahu, karena aku tidak bisa berhenti menatap itu. Saya ingin mengambil gambar itu sebelum menghilang lagi, tapi itu akan menjadi aneh.Dia menurunkan lengannya untuk beristirahat di konsol, tetapi kaki saya di jalan. Saya mendorong di tanganku. "Maaf," saya mengatakan, seperti aku mulai menarik mereka kembali.Jari-jarinya membungkus kaki telanjang, menghentikan saya. "Kau baik-baik saja," katanya.Tangannya masih dibungkus di sekitar kaki saya. Aku menatap itu.Neraka Kudus, ibu jari yang hanya dipindahkan. Sengaja pindah, membelai sisi kaki saya. Paha saya mengepalkan bersama-sama dan napas perhentian di paru-paru saya dan saya kaki tegang, karena aku akan terkutuk jika tangan tidak hanya membelai kaki saya sebelum ia menariknya pergi.Aku harus mengunyah di bagian dalam pipi saya untuk menahan senyum.Saya pikir Anda tertarik padaku, Miles.• • •As soon as we arrive at my parents’ place, my father puts Corbin and Miles to work hanging Christmas lights. I take our things into the house and give Corbin and Miles my room, since it’s the only one with two beds. I take Corbin’s old bedroom, then head to the kitchen to help my mom finish prepping dinner.Thanksgiving has always been a small affair at our house. Mom and Dad didn’t like having to choose between families, and my dad was hardly ever home, since a pilot’s busiest times of year are the holidays. My mother decided Thanksgiving would be reserved for immediate family only, so every year on Thanksgiving Day, it’s always just been me, Corbin, Mom, and Dad, when Dad is home. Last year, it was just Mom and me, since Dad and Corbin were both working.This year, it’s all of us.And Miles.It’s strange, him being here like this. Mom seemed happy to meet him, so I guess she didn’t mind too much. My dad loves everyone, and he’s more than happy to have someone else helping with the Christmas lights, so I know the presence of a third person doesn’t bother him in the least.My mother passes me the pan of boiled eggs. I begin cracking them to prepare them for deviled eggs, and she leans across the kitchen island and rests her chin in her hands. “That Miles sure is a looker,” she says with an arch of her eyebrow.Let me explain something about my mother. She’s a great mom. A really great mom. But I have never been comfortable talking to her about guys. It started when I was twelve and I got my first period. She was so excited she called three of her friends to tell them before she even explained what the hell was happening to me. I learned pretty early on that secrets aren’t secrets once they reach her ears.“He’s not bad,” I say, completely lying. I’m absolutely lying, because he is a looker. His golden-brown hair paired with those mesmerizing blue eyes, his broad shoulders, the scruff that lines his firm jaw when he’s had a couple of days off work, the way he always smells so fantastically delicious, like he just stepped out of the shower and hasn’t even towel-dried yet.Oh, my God.Who the hell am I right now?“Does he have a girlfriend?”I shrug. “I don’t really know him, Mom.”