Page 26 of Zero Confusion

Zach took immense pleasure in showing Miles around—pointing out all his favorite places, laughing under the bright awnings, ducking in and out of quirky shops. It was tourist season, and the streets were full of excited visitors snapping pictures, giving them a chance to blend in as they meandered around the neighborhood. Zach followed Miles into each gallery they passed, sometimes staying only for a minute, other times lingering in front of pieces that caught Miles’s attention.

“Looking for inspiration?” Zach sidled up to Miles, who’d been glued to a large oil painting of a bookshelf that extended into the horizon. Each book morphed into a human form reminiscent of the volume it represented—a thin atlas became a lively dancer, a stout academic emerged out of a thick encyclopedia, a brightly colored children’s book burst out of a toddler holding a jar of cookies.

“No way.” Miles shook his head emphatically. “I’d never be able to do something like this. Hell, I can barely make an apple look like an apple.”

“You should consider starting your own art movement. Take the one thing you can draw really well and do it over and over. Like the ice cream cone—you have dozens of them in your sketchbook, and they’re all really good.”

“The world isn’t ready for an art movement centered around dessert.” Miles grabbed Zach by the waist and pulled him in until his back was flush against Miles’s chest. “This piece is amazing. Look at it. On the surface, the symbolism is completely over-the-top. Each person is one-dimensional, flat, easy to dismiss. We prefer to think of ourselves as complex beings—pulled in different directions by our nature and ambitions, impossible to represent with a single definition.”

His best friend had gotten quite a bit more philosophical in the past few years, and Zach couldn’t get enough of his musings.

“But I think at our core, we really are one-dimensional.” Miles gently rested his cheek against Zach’s temple. “Whether we admit it, we all have that one thing that defines us, that drives us.”

“What’s yours?” Zach asked, not certain he wanted to know.

“I’m hoping to figure that out very soon,” Miles mumbled and nuzzled Zach’s hair. “Should we get some lunch?”

As they slowly made their way toward a nearby cafe, Zach considered what his own driving force might be.

If he had to think of himself as one-dimensional, there was no way around it.

His one dimension was Miles.

Chapter 12

MILES

“I have something for you.” Miles pounced as soon as Zach walked through the door. “I found it in my suitcase while putting away souvenirs. Can’t believe I didn’t remember earlier.”

Zach squeezed past and let the bag slip off his shoulder onto the worn couch cushion. “Sounds intriguing. What is it?”

Miles waited until he turned around before proudly revealing the surprise in his hand. Zach’s tired eyes softened and radiated delight as he stepped forward and rubbed his thumb along their horseshoe.

They’d found it half-buried in the dirt along the fence that separated their farms. It was right around first or second grade, when their obsession with cowboys was at its peak, and any horse-related paraphernalia was deemed a treasure. Even a broken horseshoe. They could have easily asked their parents to buy them a new one at the farm supply store, but finding one in the wild and speculating about where it came from was far more alluring.

As one of their most prized possessions, it belonged to both of them, constantly traveling back and forth between their households. As they grew up, the horseshoe became a talisman, a good luck charm they presented to each other in times of celebration or need. Sadly, their distance had brought a stop to the tradition. Miles had tucked it into Zach’s suitcase on the eve of his move to Portland, and Zach had returned it the following year without any explanation. Since then, it had followed Miles everywhere he went.

Zach’s turn was long overdue.

“I thought you’d forgotten about it,” Zach whispered, gingerly wrapping his fingers around the rusted metal.

Miles scoffed at the implication that this wasn’t one of his most cherished possessions. “Hard to forget about, considering it lives on top of my desk at school.”

Surprise flashed in Zach’s eyes, but he quickly schooled his expression and walked to the bookshelf. The uneven shape was difficult to stand upright, but he eventually succeeded in leaning it against a stack of textbooks. “I guess it’s my turn to have all the luck.”

Luck wasn’t the main thing on Miles’s mind.

Zach was brave, one of the bravest people Miles had ever met, and he was headstrong. No doubt he would forge his own path, and while Miles wanted that for him, he was also terrified of what it meant. With Zach pulling away from his family and his old life, Miles had to find a way to maintain their connection, and if that wasn’t possible, at least make sure Zach had something tangible to remember him by. He ached to be a part of Zach’s existence in whatever way distance would allow, the longing so fierce that he was willing to give up the soothing comfort of running his fingers across the familiar shape whenever he missed his best friend.

Zach made sure the horseshoe wouldn’t tip over and muttered something about food before going to the kitchen. Miles stayed transfixed on the dingy brown-gray metal. It seemed so out of place next to the glossy spines of Zach’s books, and wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for their friendship? Miles and his quiet, boring life would always pale in comparison to Zach’s shine.

The unease percolated in his brain for the rest of the afternoon, bubbling to the surface after dinner. One way or another, he had to know. As soon as they finished eating, he grabbed Zach’s hand and pulled him to the couch for a conversation. It was time.

“Talk to me, Zee.”

“About what?”

“About everything. Tell me why you’re taking classes you don’t need instead of going home. Tell me what’s going on with your family. And tell me the truth—are you staying here after you graduate?”