The inside of the Westbrook Hospital was freezing cold, but I was breaking out into a sweat as I waited for the receptionist to give me information about my mom.

"She's in room 207," the woman finally told me. "Just take the elevator—"

"I know how to get there," Miles cut in.

The two of us walked over to the elevators and Miles hit the button for the second floor.

"Your mom's fine," he said, his eyes watching the numbers light up above the doors.

"How do you know that?"

He glanced down at me. "If it was serious she'd be in intensive care or in surgery. The second floor is a good floor to be on."

Hearing that made me feel a little better. A little. The second floor might've been a good floor to be on, but anywhere besides a hospital would've been even better.

The elevator dinged and after a few people stepped off, we got on. Two minutes later we were walking down a long corridor on the second floor, searching for room 207.

We located my mom's room and I went in while Miles hung out in the hall.

When I saw her, propped up in the hospital bed with her left arm in a sling, tears threatened my eyes again.

"Oh, baby, I'm fine," she assured me, her signature smile on her face. "I told them not to call and scare you."

"Well, they did," I said, sitting on the edge of her bed. I wanted to hug her, but she seemed so fragile with all the wires and IVs. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I was on my way to pick up dinner and somebody rear ended me. I'm fine, though," she told me, patting the back of my hand. "I dislocated my shoulder and my neck and back is a little sore, but I'm okay."

I believed her. However, that didn't completely ease my anxiety. I wouldn't feel at peace until she was home in her own bed watching her soap operas.

"How long are they keeping you in here?"

"Just overnight for observation," she told me just as a nurse walked. Mom playfully glared at the woman. "They're holding me hostage."

"We both know how stubborn you are," the woman said as she checked he monitor next to Mom's bed. "If you weren't forced to be on bedrest you'd be trying to work."

Knowing my mom, that was true. She wasn't one to sit still, unless it was to watch her shows.

"Well, do you need anything?" I asked.

"Food, and not this hospital stuff," she said, pointing at an untouched tray of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. "There's a deli across the street. Get me a sandwich, please."

"Alright, I'll be right back," I told her as I stood. Ignoring my previous restraints, I hugged her, savoring the moment I came so close to not having. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, smiling as I pulled away. "But I'll you love even more when you bring me my sandwich."

"Okay," I laughed. "What kind?"

"Edible."

With that, I left the room. I was feeling a lot better now that I knew Mom was fine and acting like her usual self. When I got out to the hallway, Miles was no longer standing there. Maybe he left?

Once I made it out of the hospital, I realized he hadn't gone too far. He was sitting on a bench outside, looking up at the night sky. It was a deep blue color, not a star in sight because of all the lights.

"I thought you would've left by now," I said, walking over to him.

He stood up, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I wanted to make sure you and your mom were alright."

"She banged up her shoulder, but she's fine," I said. "Why are you sitting out here in the cold?"

He looked up at the building, his eyes looking haunted. "I'm not a big fan of hospitals."

Part of me wanted to ask him about his dislike of hospitals. But as an avid avoider of talking about my feelings, I didn't want to prod him with questions about his.

"She's boycotting the food, though," I told him, changing the subject. "So, I'm going on a sandwich run."

"Your mom's smart," he chuckled. "I think hospital food is worse than school food."

"Is that even possible?"

He laughed again. "The deli across the street makes the best ham and cheese."

"That's actually where I'm going."

"I'll walk with you," he offered.

"That's not necessary," I told him. "You've already done enough."

He was being genuinely nice. I had to admit it was kind of strange not having him make some joke or bring up his broken phone.

"Really, it's no problem," he assured me. "Besides, I'm craving a sandwich now. Your treat, of course. Because of the thing with my phone."

I spoke too soon.

The two of us started our walk to the deli. When we stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the white, walking man to replace the red hand, Miles started doing jumping jacks.

My brow raised at him. "Why?"

"I'm trying to warm up," he responded. He stopped jumping and started jogging in place. "It's cold as hell out here."

"Yeah," I said, dragging it out. "That's common during the fall."

The light changed, signaling that it was now our turn to cross the street.

"It's California," he notified me. "Fall doesn't start until November."

"How's that logic working out for you?"

"Don't you want to share your sweater?" he asked, flashing me puppy dog eyes.

"Nope."

He frowned, looking defeated. Then I felt the cold, autumn air on my ears. I looked over to see him sliding my beanie over his dark hair, a well-placed smirk on his face.

My eyes narrowed at him. "Really?"

"Really."

When we arrived at the tiny, dimly lit deli Miles ordered his ham and cheese while I looked over the menu. Aside from her distaste in hospital food, Mom wasn't that picky about what she ate. Her only request was that it be spicy. Which is why I ordered her a kimchi and brisket grilled cheese. For myself I ordered a simple turkey and cheese sandwich.

"That'll be $15.50," the husky, bearded man behind the counter said to me. I reached for my wallet, but Miles stopped me.

"Don't worry about it," he said easily, handing the man a twenty.

"You didn't have to—"

"It's fine, Mermaid," he told me. "Now, back to that favor I was asking you for at June's."

I should've known he was playing some sort of angle. We sat down at one of the tables to wait for our orders to be made and I waited for Miles to make his request.

"How would you like to be the jelly to my peanut butter?"

My brow raised at him. "Meaning...?"

"For Halloween," he explained. "I need a girl to dress up with me."

My mind went back to earlier at June's when he and Vivian were hugged up against his car.

"Why not ask Vivian?" I suggested. "You two seem to be pretty close."

"We are. Which is why I can't ask her," he said. "The rule of the bet is that I can't ask a girl who's close to me."

I leaned my elbows on the table, intrigued by the mention of a bet. "What kind of bet?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "It's stupid. Owen bet me fifty bucks to dress up in a corny couples costume."

"What happens if you fail?"

He rested his elbows on the table, leaning in so our eyes were leveled with each other. "I'll only tell you that if you accept the role of jelly."

My lips pursed as I shook my head. "No, thanks."

His shoulders slumped. "Please, I've asked, like, a hundred girls and they all said no."

"It can't be that difficult to find someone."

"It is when everyone thinks Vivian is my girlfriend," he said, letting out a sigh as he leaned back against his chair.

"She isn't?"

"No, we're just friends."

That took me by surprise. I didn't believe either. Not with the way they interacted with each other.

"With benefits?" It was a joke, but the long pause he took made me wonder if there was any truth to it.

"No," he said finally. "Just friends."

I leaned back against my own chair, eyeing him suspiciously. "You took too long to answer that. I think you're lying."

"You know what, Mermaid," he told, shaking his finger at me. "I liked you a lot better when you didn't talk much."

The man behind the counter called out our orders, letting us know they were ready to be picked up. After we grabbed the white paper bags containing our food, we went back to the hospital.

"You're fine, right?" Miles asked as we approached the sliding doors of the hospital.

"Yeah, I'm good," I told him. "Thanks for driving me here and for the food."

"No, problem," he said, his lips turning up into a half smile. "Thank you for the beanie."

"Actually, I want that back," I held my hand out, hoping he'd hand it over.

"Will you be the jelly to my—"

"No," I cut in.

"Then I'm keeping the beanie," he shrugged. "See you at school, Mermaid."