“Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t pull a full-on Felicity and come to school in New York to follow this Will guy.”
“Felicity’s my jam! Whatever, don’t judge me. I have an older sister. What the hell’s your name, anyway?”
“Ooh, are you one?”
“Um. No. I’m a Pisces, I think? I always forget the dates of it. Wait, what’s your name? In my head I’ve just been calling you Skinny Jeans.”
“Oh, weird, that is my name.” He bumped me with his shoulder, and I felt this wave of warmth just from some dude palling around with me.
“No, seriously,” he went on. “Everyone said to my parents, ‘You can’t name him that; those aren’t even in style yet!’ but my folks were all, ‘Well, we can’t call him Boot Cut, it’s not black enough!’”
I started giggling a little, and we both jumped up to sit on the side of the wall.
“It’s Milton,” he said.
“Whoa. Heavy name.”
❤️❤️❤️ I love Milton.