“One of these days he is going to snap and try to beat you into the ground.”
I grunted. “Let him.”
Milo shook his head, a smirk settling on his lips. “Why do you keep doing this? Do you have some sort of death wish?”
“I didn’t do anything. He did.” I shrugged and kept walking toward our last afternoon class, which Alexander shared with us, but it seemed like he must be skipping. Damn, I’d forgotten my confetti. “You saw him. He started it. I’ll finish it.” I thumped my chest. “And if I do things right, he’ll get kicked off the basketball team, out of school, hell, maybe even out of the entire city. New Gothenburg deserves to live Alexander Carrington free. Do they ban people from cities these days?” I crooked a grin at Milo.
He snickered. “I don’t know. Maybe you should drop it, though. You’re going to start something that turns so painful you’ll regret it.”
Fat chance. I was going to finish this fight for good. Seeing Alexander had reminded me that Micah wasn’t just some sweet, geeky guy I wanted to touch all over—he was amission. As we made our way toward the entrance of the Van Buren Building for our Fundamentals of Tax Accounting class, I snagged Milo’s elbow.
“Hey.”
He slid his sunglasses back onto his face and glanced at me. “Yeah?”
Dragging my feet, I pulled him to the side into the grass near a maple tree. Red leaves drifted down, and Milo plucked a pretty pinkish yellow one out of my hair. “What’s one thing you would never turn down?”
“My grandmother’s homemade pierogies. She puts cheese in them.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “Yum.”
I smacked his gut with the back of my hand, then headed toward the doors again, and he grunted, rushing after me.
“Ouch.” He pouted.
“That did not hurt.” I snorted.
“Did too!”
“I’m not asking about your stomach.” I raised my eyebrows at him, then shot a glance at his crotch.
His eyes widened. “Oh, you mean...?”
I waved my hand to keep him talking.
“BJ. No contest.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and his shoulders slumped. He would make a terrible criminal because it was always obvious when he was doing anything wrong. My dad had always told me to stroll around like you owned the place if you were up to no good, so I just did it all the time. “If anyone legal offered, I would take it. Literally anyone,” he whispered.
Intrigued, I slowed down until we were in danger of being late to class. A cool breeze tickled across my cheeks and through my hair. “Anyone?”
He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and settled his arm across my shoulders. I leaned against his solid warmth as he chased off the chill. “My mom’s neighbor, she’s sixty. Like, still looks fuckable in her low-rise jeans, sixty, but you know.” He shrugged.
“Sixty.” I dragged out the word.
“Right! Anyway, this past summer, she says, Milo, be a sweetie and come help me fix my pool filter. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“And?” I snatched his stupid sunglasses and danced out of reach, and he laughed, chasing after me through the grass for a few seconds. He snagged my book bag and tugged until I passed the glasses back.
“And, I’m just saying, all right? It’s a hell of a motivational tool. I spent a few nights over there and never touched the pool filter. She knew some tricks.”
“You’re lying,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You think what you want—” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “—but I learned a valuable lesson.”
“Cougars are everywhere?” I grinned.
He chuckled and twirled his glasses in his hand. “Well, okay, two lessons. But one of them is never turn down a BJ.”
Rubbing my hands on my cheeks, I stared at him.
“What?” he asked, pursing his lips.
