Page 65 of The Incredible Ordinary

The moment he’s out of earshot, Milán turns to me.

“What do I do now?” he whispers, the panic clear in his voice. I have a sudden urge to laugh.

He narrows his eyes. “Are you laughing?”

“No, no. Only a tiny, tiny bit,” I say in response to the look he sends me.

“Well, don’t. Just… tell me how to solve this. What do I say? Am I supposed to punish him? Like… ground him? That’s what people do, right? Or take his phone away. No, I don’t think he’d care that much.” He snaps his fingers. “His pencils. Or the journal. No. Shit. I can’t do that. He’ll fucking hate me forever.But then I can’t just ignore what happened, can I? So I should… What’s a good consequence for his actions? Do I… do I tell him I’m disappointed in him? When’s a good time to roll that one out? Is that too much? Am I disappointed? Holy fucking shit!” He drags his hands through his hair, and by now, his breathing is about four times as fast as normal.

I put my hands on his shoulders and step closer. His eyes widen.

“Breathe,” I say. “You won’t solve anything if you’re not able to approach this calmly.”

He lifts his gaze and meets mine. The hallway is quiet. My toes are against his toes. Our chests are almost touching.

I blink.

There’s a faint hum underneath my skin.

Milán shifts from one foot to the other, and I’m suddenly very aware that he’s even closer. Not by much, but enough that the air between us seems thinner.

He’s gone from hyperventilating to breathing slower and quieter. Still shallow, but not as much as before. I can tell because I can feel each exhale and inhale.

I can feel my pulse in my fingertips.

The sleeve of his T-shirt brushes over the skin of my forearm, and something changes in the air. Not sharp. Or sudden. Just a small tilt.

A faint acknowledgment in the back of my brain tells me I should step back. I don’t.

Ifeelhim.

Still too close.

The moment stretches. Somehow awkward, but not painfully so.

It’s the silence. It’s too long. Too noticeable.

I scramble for something to say, anything to make the silence less obvious, but all I manage is a useless laugh that comes out unnatural and thin.

He looks at me. Not long, just a flick of his eyes, but it feels like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. My pulsepoundsin my fingertips. And for what? We’re just standing. Just talking.

The sudden click of a door opening somewhere makes me jump back and blink in surprise.

“Rory,” Milán says quietly. If nothing else, at least he sounds calmer now.

I’m…

That was weird. Earlier. Weird. I’m not sure what made me react like that.

I take a slow, deep breath.

It was the proximity. I haven’t been that close to anybody in a while, so I just reacted to the unexpected situation. As pathetic as that might sound.

Milán smooths his palm over the top of his head and straightens his back. Rory slowly appears from around the corner. He’s dragging his feet and eyeing Milán from underneath a deeply furrowed brow.

“Living room,” Milán says. He sounds impressively composed compared to the freak-out of a few minutes ago.

Rory rolls his eyes but goes.