Page 31 of Meet Me on Love Street
We sit on the sofa, me with my plate balanced on my lap and him with his computer, and start going over the proposal draft. He did a lot of research. In the community impact section, he wrote about how other festivals have helped revitalize communities. I add more personalized information about Love Street and how increasing visibility could strengthen the close bond the community members already have. We work together on the financial section next, covering sponsors, vendor fees, and the BOA budget for the event.
“Don’t forget to add something about the statue we want to put in LOL Park,” I say. “Maybe we can find a sponsor to pay for it.” I did a bit of research, and, while I hate to say it, Miles was right all those weeks ago—it’s not something we can afford without help.
Miles shakes his head. “It’s going to be an enormous amount of work to get it approved, and the piece will cost tens of thousands of dollars. People will come for the street vendors and the performances. This big heart sounds so…”
I exhale. “So what?”
“Trite.”
I can’t believe we’re here again. Why do we keep having the same argument? “I have no idea how I’m supposed to plan a festival of love with someone who doesn’t believe in love,” I say.
That comment makes his brows knit together. “I believe in love.”
“Okay, then with someone who thinks love should have no importance in society and who thinks everyone who loves romance is indoctrinated into the capitalism machine.”
“You’re putting words into my mouth,” he says. I can see that tension sneaking back into his jaw.
I shake my head. “I am not putting words into your mouth. I’m making an analysis of your opinions based on your actions and comments on the matter. You agreed to me setting you up on dates so that you’d see how amazing love is. If you were already a… love aficionado, I wouldn’t have to do that, would I?”
A small smile appears on his lips. “Love aficionado?”
“Okay, okay, tell me one thing. How’s Reggie’s new romance section selling?” Maybe I should have insisted Milesreadromances on top of letting me set him up to get him to change his tune. Lord knows the setups haven’t worked yet.
“They’re not selling more than other categories, but I admit they are doing better than I thought they would.”
“Reggie hasn’t advertised the romance section at all,”I say. “But even still, people are buying. They can’tallbe buying the books because they’ve been brainwashed by marketing—they read romance because of the joy and hope in the genre. People want that in their lives. Just because you’re a frigid fish doesn’t mean others feel the same way.” I exhale, regretting my words immediately. Name calling isn’t helping anyone here. “I’m sorry. Forget I called you a fish.”
Miles blinks at me. “Do you really think I’m frigid?” he asks. He actually looks hurt, and that was not my intention at all.
I close my eyes for a moment. I have no idea why this person sitting next to me affects me like this. Sometimes he’s the easiest person in the world to talk to, but he also irritates me more than most people do. He makes me say things I don’t normally say. I’m Sunny Sana, the eternal optimist. I don’t call people names. But Miles Desai has thrown me so completely off my groove, and I don’t know what to do with that. I turn to look at him. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But do you think it?” he asks.
I bite my lip. To be honest, Miles has never seemed like a warm, affectionate, or even passionate person, but I don’t think that necessarily means he’s cold, either. I decide to be honest.
“I don’t know. Sometimes, maybe.”
After a few moments, he speaks again. “Not everyone’s interpretation of love is hearts and Hallmark Christmas movies. That doesn’t mean we’re not capable of it.”
“Haveyouever been in love?” I ask. I asked him that question before, and he didn’t answer me then. But now we’re friends.
He exhales, then looks away from me. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you’ve been in love?”
He stares in front of him at the macramé owl hanging on the wall. “I had a girlfriend for a year in high school,” he says. “I thought I was in love. But now I wonder if it was just…convenient.”
“Ugh. Poor girl.”
Miles huffs a laugh, looking at me. “Considering we broke up when I found out she hooked up with my best friend, I don’t have a ton of sympathy for her.”
“Oh my goodness! Thatsucks. I take it back. Pooryou. That, plus your parents’ separation… It’s no wonder you’re so jaded.”
He shakes his head. “I’m notjaded. My relationship or family history has nothing to do with why I don’t see the point of pouring energy and money into a frivolous idea like a heart-shaped park installation. It’s a waste of our resources.”
I take the now-empty plate off my lap and cross my legs. “Disagree,” I say.
“I guess we’re at an impasse, then,” Miles says. “It doesn’t need to be in the proposal anyway. The next section is diversity.”
