As the doorbell echoed through the halls of the house, I ran down the stairs to get the door. I had been waiting for this moment for days. Ever since Miles and I saw the movie together, we had talked nonstop. Slowly my rational fear that he would hurt me just like Isaac faded into the background.

"Mom, I'm going out! I'll see you later tonight," I called out to her office.

"Have fun!" she shouted and with that, I opened the door to see Miles on the front step wearing some outfit I swore I've seen in one of Everly's fashion magazines.

"Hey. Right on time."

"I have a thing about being on time," he said as I closed the door. "Are you hungry, Isla?"

"Yeah, let's go."

"Great," he said as he led me to his Subaru, opening the door for me to get into the car.

As I got into the car, I felt my cheeks grow hot. Brownie points to him for being a gentleman.

"Want to play more of your music?"

"You mean it?" It blew me away he would even ask such a question still. In the back of my mind, a little voice told me it was a trap, just like Isaac, and that was enough for me to remain cautious.

He laughed as he drove off. "Of course I mean it. I wouldn't say it if I didn't want to listen."

I smiled as I connected my phone, putting on the last song I listened to.

"How do you find this music?" Miles asked after the first song ended.

"I have a gift for finding the lonely."

"Lonely music?"

"Lonely anything."

Tristen and Dad both agreed that lonely things just clung to me. They said that I was the light in the darkness. However, I didn't quite see the truth in that statement when I often felt just as lonely as them. Maybe that was why I found them, because lonely things stayed together.

"I believe it," he said in a serious tone. "Ok, next song!"

My fingers hit the next song on my playlist, which was upbeat, and I couldn't help but dance in my seat to it.

Miles chuckled as he took a turn on the road. "You got some major dance moves."

I laughed as I became more comfortable. I would not be afraid of his judgment. If he liked my music, he probably wouldn't mind my moves either.

As the song died down, Miles parked the car. "Ok, we're here."

I looked at the fancy restaurant in front of me. I had passed this place many times before, but I had never been here since it was expensive.

"Are you coming or what, Isla?"

My head snapped towards Miles and realized he had already stepped out of the car and was waiting for me to follow. I shook my head to clear it and follow him.

We were attended to quickly, as someone came to sit us at a table almost instantly. "Is there anything you need from me right now?" the server asked us as we sat down, looking nervous.

I smiled at him, trying to calm him. "No, thank you."

He nodded as he scurried off, allowing me to pick up the menu.

"So what is your favorite food?" I asked him, trying to make conversation.

"Italian," Miles replied.

"You picked well. It's almost like you're a local," I said as I looked at the Italian menu in front of me.

"That's what I want—to be a local," he said as he flipped through the menu for a moment.

"You are doing a good job."

He smiled at me but remained silent.

"Have you decided on your meal?" the server said as they came up to us again.

Miles nodded as he put down the menu. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, even though I wasn't ready. I barely looked at the menu, but I knew how people got waiting. Isaac always rushed me and told me it was a pain. I didn't want to do the same for Miles. Quickly, I ordered a plate of ravioli, hoping it was good.

As we waited for the food to come out, Miles dove into the conversation about almost anything he could think of. His stories made me laugh, made me think about things besides my own life. As time passed, I realized I didn't want this dinner to end.

"So what's your favorite food?" Miles asked quickly.

Suddenly my smile slid from my face. This should have been a simple question to answer, but for me, it wasn't. My dad's cooking was my favorite food, anything he made I loved. My heart ached for a time when I sat on the barstool, watching as he cooked and I told him about my day.

"I like takeout Chinese food," I replied, forcing the thoughts of him from my mind.

"It's easy to please you, is it?"

"One of my many qualities."

"Alright, I talked enough. Tell me about your family."

Maybe this was a time I'd rather they talk about only themselves. "Pass."

My family was like a vase, chipped and broken, only held together with some Super Glue someone found in a corner of a kitchen drawer. One more breeze from the outside and we would crumble into dust. I would not talk about us when Miles seemed to have it all together.

He frowned slightly. "Ok. You can tell me when you are ready. In the meantime, I'll tell you about mine. I come from a family of eight kids."

I nearly dropped my fork. Eight. Did I hear right? I would have loved to see what his house looked like. I was sure it was messy, busy, lively and exciting all the same. Miles must have never been lonely. I'm sure he didn't know what it felt like to come home to an empty house or cooking for themselves.

"See, I knew you would smile at that one. I bet you haven't met many people with seven brothers and sisters."

I shook my head. Never in my life have I met a family so big. "No, I haven't."

"Yeah. It's a lot. But being the second youngest does have its perks."

"Like hand-me-downs? Is that how you dress so nicely?" It only made sense to me.

He burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing he heard all day. "That's a good one. I need to remember that." He wiped a tear from his eye.

A smile appeared on my face, but I wondered why he thought it was so funny when I was actually being serious.

"So siblings, how many do you have?"

"I have an older brother and a younger sister." I took another bite of pasta, filling my mouth with tart creamy flavors, hoping that would stop him from asking too many questions.

"The middle child, I've been told it's tough."

I shrugged. I knew nothing different. Dad was good at making me feel seen. That wasn't the case anymore. With Tristen gone and Mom always working, I felt like an adult, watching out for Everly. My childhood ended as soon as we took Dad for that first hospital trip. "Maybe, but Tristen and Everly are good siblings to have."

He nodded as he looked at my almost empty plate of food. "You must have been hungry."

With not enough time this morning to pack something for lunch, this was the first real meal I had in 24 hours. "Yeah, I guess I was." His plate looked hardly touched which made me feel self-conscious.

"I'm glad you're liking it."

"Are you not hungry?"

He shook his head. "Not as much as you are," he replied as some girl our age came up to us.

She smiled at Miles and held out a pen and paper with a nervous laugh. "Hi, um, Kit, can I have your autograph?" she gushed.

He gave a friendly smile although his eyes told me another story. He looked uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. He wanted privacy, but instead of shooing her way, he made her feel welcomed. "Of course." He jotted his name on the paper and handed it back to her.

She beamed, then quickly walked back to her friends, who were chatting like birds from across the restaurant.

Miles stared at me with a frown in silence.

His cover was blown but what was he covering? Kit? The person in front of me was Miles. However, Kit sounded familiar. "Kit? Why did she call you Kit?"

He sighed as whispers filled the restaurant. Soon all eyes were on us, but I didn't know why.

Finally, Miles stood up. "Let's get out of here," he said and offered his hand to me.

People called him Kit. I didn't know him. Suddenly, he felt more like a stranger than anything. There were obviously some secrets that everyone else knew besides me. But just like I went with him to the hospital I decided to go with him again. With a sigh, I took his hand as he quickly threw a $50 dollar bill on the table then pulled me out of the restaurant.

Cameras flashed around us as we stepped outside. I shielded my eyes from the brightness.

"Kit Keen, who's the young lady with you?" one person with a camera asked.

"No comment." He guided me to his rust-colored Subaru and closed the door, shutting me out from the cameras.

Reporters crowded around the car like vultures, desperate to know what Miles was up to. I looked at Miles as fear crept into my mind. Kit. Suddenly it hit me like the wad of paper Everly threw at me the day before. Zoe, Everly, and practically every girl at my high school liked his music. Kit Keen was a pop singer, and I didn't notice this fact until cameras flashed in front of us.

"You're Kit Keen?"

He turned on the car and sped off with a nod. "Yes," he said simply.

"But you're Miles."

He sighed. "Yes, Miles Kit Keen. That's my name."

This had to be a prank that Isaac was pulling on me. After all, no famous person would ever be in Redding, let alone interested in me. "Stop the car," I said as we drove by an empty park.

Without waiting for a second, he stopped the car and pulled into a parking spot. I wasn't sure if he was upset that I found out or because I was upset with him. But he hurt me. I thought we were becoming friends, but this made me feel like I didn't know him.

My heart started to race—I couldn't breathe. This car was suffocating me. I needed air; I needed space to clear my mind; I needed silence and nature. Quickly, I opened the car door and stepped out without a word.

Miles called out for me as I walked toward a bench, but I didn't stop. I dug my nails into my sweaty hands until the pain was all I felt. Dad's words echoed through my mind again 'breathe you can do it; everything will be fine'. But this wasn't fine, none of this was.

"Isla!" Miles called out again.

I turned to face him although I could barely see his face in the dark summer night.

"Wait," he called out, then jumped out of the car to follow me.

I didn't want him to follow me, but my voice was silent as I sat on the slightly damp bench.

By the time he made it to the bench, he was out of breath. He sat next to me then shook his right hand as if he touched something hot with a sigh.

For a moment, silence engulfed us as we looked at the playground in front of us.

The more I thought about it, the more I tried to convince myself there was a chance the real Kit Keen was sitting next to me. "Why did you pick Redding, California, out of all places in the world?"

Redding was small and not nearly as exciting as other cities in California, that was for sure. So why did he want to come here?

"Because it's sunny," he replied as if the answer was that simple.

A weird response but I couldn't argue with him. A year or two back, some university did a study of the sunniest cities in the USA, and they placed Redding on the top 10 list.

But that couldn't be the only reason Kit Keen moved here. He should be in LA where all the famous people live, not Redding, unless he just wanted to play around with my emotions.

Just when I was getting to know him, a bomb was dropped, leaving nothing remaining of the person I thought I knew.

Frustration consumed me as I stood up from the bench. Why was he interested in me? I ran my hands through my straight blonde hair as I tried to work out my thoughts. "And you didn't bother to tell me this beforehand?"

"I found it refreshing that you didn't know me."

I chuckled cynically at him. Of course he just wanted to play around with my emotions. I probably wasn't the first girl he did this to either. "And you thought that was entertaining?"

Here it was, joke's on me. I let down my guard only to get stabbed in the back.

He shook his head. "No, I found it honest. You're true to yourself and you make me want to be true to myself. You're real, more real than I felt in too long. You liked me not knowing I was Kit Keen."

Great, so he saw me as simple and honest. Did he even like me or just like that I didn't know him? "Well, Kit Keen, what does this mean for us?"

He sighed with a frown. "Look Isla, all I know is that I like to be with you. I like your personality and your sass. Now that you know, it's like a weight off my shoulders but please know nothing has changed."

But everything has changed. There was more silence. Miles was my friend, maybe, but this Kit Keen, I didn't know him. I would have to approach this carefully, he might turn around at any point and leave me in the dust.

"Ok."

"Ok what?"

"We can still be friends."

He beamed at me as if this was the best news he had heard. "Good."

Dad told me that dreams were up with the stars, I just had to find them within the constellations. I always wondered what it would be like to be next to a star. All that heat, power, warmth, just in an enormous mass of energy. I just never thought I would have this kind of star by me.

He bumped my shoulder and asked, "Are you cold?"

"Freezing."

He chuckled then said, "Let's get you home." And with that, he stood up and offered his hand to me.

This time, I took it without question.