Page 61 of Meet Me on Love Street
“What’s stopping you?” I wrap my hand around the back of his neck.
“Um… your mother is staring at us.”
I chuckle. “We should go to your place sometime.”
He shakes his head. “My place isdisgusting. And we’d have even less privacy.” I frown, but it disappears when he gives me a quick peck on the lips, then a hug. “I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Bye, Miles.” I watch him carry his bike down the stairs and ride away before heading inside.
Mom is in the kitchen and has the food processor in front of her. She must have made hummus—she does that about every three days. “Did I see you kissing Miles?” she asks.
I nod, swiping a cherry tomato from a basket on the counter. “He’s adorable, right?”
Mom doesn’t answer that. “I asked around about his mother.”
“You did? Why?”
She shrugs, then scoops the hummus into a plastic container. “I was curious,” Mom says.
The hummus looks different—it’s reddish in color. Itake another cherry tomato and dip into it. “This is good.”
Mom smiles. “Experimenting with a new recipe—it has roasted red pepper and pomegranate molasses in it.” She scrapes the last of the hummus into the container. “The Ismaili Muslim community is small. I wondered if I knew his parents. I don’t think I do. You could ask your stepmother… She’s from that area.”
I freeze. My hand is holding another tomato, hovering over the hummus.DoesNoureen know Miles’s family? I suppose it’s possible. That thought makes me feel a little off-kilter. Like my worlds are colliding—and not in a good way. But Miles and Sarina have become friends. One of them would have told me if their mothers knew each other.
“He’s not very close with his parents,” I say. “They’re separating right now and fighting a lot. He moved to the city because there was too much tension at home.”
Mom tilts her head with sympathy. “Poor kid. I like him. I think he’s good for you.”
“I think so too.” I dip another cherry tomato into the hummus. There’s no reason to have any doubts about Miles—we’re still getting to know each other. This relationship is going to be great—the fortune told me it would be, and there’s no reason not to trust a fortune from a velvet jacket.
CHAPTER TWENTYTHE EYE-OPENING STREETCAR RIDE
It takes me forever to decide what to wear for work on Sunday, since I’m going straight to my first date with Miles after. I want to look good, but it needs to be casual, too. Jeans would be the obvious choice for a casual restaurant, but I’m not really a wear-jeans-on-a-date kind of girl. A short skirt would be more me, but I hate wearing skirts to work because I’m always climbing ladders. I finally decided on pink vintage sailor pants and a white shirt with a little scarf around my neck. I wear my hair big and curly, put on my brightest pink lipstick, and, finally, grab a pair of white sandals to change into after my shift. The outfit looks like I’d put thought into it, but it’s as comfortable as jeans and a T-shirt. After I close the store, I change my shoes and touch up my lipstick before heading to the subway to meet Miles at Broadview station.
He’s on the platform when I get off the train, and I can tell right away that he put thought into his outfit too. He’s in perfectly fitted black pants that hit just above his ankles, a pair of trendy loafers, and a short-sleeved blue button-up with a leaf print on it. I smile, admiring how that blue brings out the warmth in his eyes. Miles’s clothes aren’t as loud as mine, but they are…colorful. I love how he manages to look preppy and smart, but also stylish. Wehug like we haven’t seen each other in weeks instead of a day. I’m getting so attached to the feeling of Miles’s arms around me. Taking my hand, he says, “You ready?”
I nod. “Yes. You going to tell me where we’re going?”
“I’m taking you to my uncle’s restaurant,” he says. “Unless…” He runs his free hand through his hair, looking unsure. “I mean, unless you think it’s weird to meet my family. We can go somewhere else.”
“If this is the place that has the best pani puri in town, I’m in,” I say, even though I am a bit nervous. Miles wouldn’t introduce me to family that wouldn’t like me, would he? He starts climbing the stairs up from the subway platform, and I follow, even though I’m confused. “You said it’s in the West End… Wouldn’t the subway be easier?” I ask.
He shakes his head as we walk to the streetcar platform on the upper level of the station. “Getting there is part of the date. We’re taking a streetcar.” He explains more when we get to the platform. “When I first moved here a few months ago, I used to go to my uncle’s place a lot because he’d give me free food. But one day there was a subway closure so I couldn’t take the train. The 505 streetcar runs between Broadview and Dundas West stations—right near my uncle’s place.”
I nod. “It’s the same streetcar we took to Riverdale Park.” Toronto streetcars run much slower than subways because they share the road with cars. It would easily take over an hour to get to Bloor and Dundas from here on a streetcar but would only be about twenty minutes by subway. I understand Miles’s choice, though. We’ll be above ground, seeing everything from one end of the city to theother, for nothing but the cost of one TTC fare. It’s a perfect first date.
When the streetcar arrives, we take two front-facing seats in the middle, with me near the window. Toronto streetcars arelong, more like modern electric trains than old-fashioned trolley cars. I’d always taken them for granted, but Miles tells me this is one of the last first-generation trolley systems still in operation in the whole world, which is super cool.
During the ride we talk about equity and about how even in a city like Toronto, wealthier neighborhoods are better served by public transportation than neighborhoods with less money, even though those are the people who rely on it more. We see some unhoused people sleeping on the street, which gets us talking about the housing crisis and what can be done about it.
“It’s weird that Toronto has all these areas that are just houses, but then areas where there are apartments and businesses together,” I say. “Why can’t they turn empty office buildings into housing? Or tear down two houses and put up an apartment building?”
“Because of zoning laws that were put in years ago. A huge percentage of the city is zoned for single-family housing only, which is ridiculous. We should have more mixed zoning.”
I nod. I can’t believe I thought he was arrogant about all his knowledge of this stuff—because this—the work he wants to do—issoimportant to make the city fair for everyone here. We eventually pass the busy square at Yonge and Dundas, with its enormous multistory billboards and jumbotrons. There are people and carseverywhere.Tourists shopping, people leaving work, even students taking summer classes at the nearby Toronto Metropolitan University—the school Miles goes to.
We pass the Ontario College for Art and Design next, where I’ll be starting school in September. I show him the building most of my classes will be in. We pass Toronto’s main Chinatown, and I point out the best cheap dumpling place. We get close to Kensington Market, and I tell him next time I get to plan a date, we’re going there for tacos and vintage shopping.
