I press my hand to Milo’s face, then rub my thumb on the soft arch of his cheek. “Milo,” I tell him, “I should be clear. I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I’m not in a place to date or anything.”
He winces slightly but keeps his smile, and that fucking kills me. “That’s okay,” he says, lifting his voice. “If you don’t want to do this again, or the tattoos—”
“No,” I cut him off. “That’s not what I’m saying.” I’m not lying when I tell him that I’ve got about a million ideas for tattoos I could cover his body with. His compact frame and his perfect, soft curves are begging for ink, and it makes me hungry thinking of how beautifully he would carry my work.
Milo’s eyes brighten, flashing silver. “Really? Because if you want to do something casual, I can do that, too.”
My heart beats. Can I do something casual? Usually the answer is fuck yes, that’s all I’m up for. But when Milo keeps giving me that needy look, I wonder how in the fuck I’m supposed to keep things low-key with him.
The only thing harder than that would be turning him down.
“Here,” I say and hand him his phone, which has fallen to the ground. “Let me give you my number.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
MILO
It takesme a week to text Joey. I want to do it right away, the instant he drops me off after we hooked up in the tattoo shop. But I keep reminding myself that he doesn’t want a relationship. It doesn’t matter what it feels like when we’re close. The truth is, Joey is still keeping his distance, and I have to learn to accept that.
When I do text him, though, he actually texts me right back.Milo. What’s up?
Just at the library,I tell him, then add the nerdy smiling emoji.What about you?
He doesn’t respond for a minute. I look up and glance around the open, cavernous library, with shelves and benches and tables scattered in every direction, and worry the nerdy emoji was too much.
My phone buzzes.Which library?he asks.
Downtown,I text back.
No fucking way. I’m picking up a book.
I sit up straight. I’m tired, and I have coffee breath, and the gray sweater I’m wearing is wrinkled. I’m here cramming in some research, and I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew this far from campus, let alone run into Joey.
Then my heart jumps. Joey’s here!
I grab my things and hurry down the stairs, and Joey’s standing in the stone lobby, leaning back in a corner away from the desk. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he has his sunglasses on inside, and I spot a couple hardcover books under his arm.
“Hey,” he says, and we kind of hug. One of Joey’s arms pulls me tight, crossing my shoulders, and I ease into the warmth of him for just a second until we both step back.
“Funny seeing you here,” I tell him with a smile.
Joey arches an eyebrow. “I thought you did your work on campus.”
I’m not surprised he remembers these things anymore, but it still feels really nice when it happens. “I had to get a new license at the DMV and thought I’d study here, since I was close.” I want to invite him to stay, but that doesn’t make any sense. Joey doesn’t want to sit quietly next to me and read in the library.
Damn, that does sound nice, though. Why does the idea of sitting and reading together in the library turn me on all of a sudden? Half of my life is spent studying alone, and I like it that way, so why does it suddenly seem desperate that I have company in the silence?
“Cool. I just needed to grab these books. I’m going to head…” Joey trails off, and after he does, our eyes catch. “Do you need a ride anywhere?”
I perk up. “Home would be great.”
A few minutes later, we’re at Joey’s car. I still have more studying to do, but I can finish at home, and I’m not about to turn down some more time with him. He pulls away from the curb, where there’s a big pile of snow, then reaches across the seat to push the door open for me. It had actually been warming up for spring, but then a cold spell and a snowstorm came out of nowhere again because that always happens at least once in this city.
“Should I just drive by the lake?” he asks me as I pull on my seatbelt.
“That’s great,” I answer. “How are you doing today, by the way? Did you have that big session this week?”
“Supposed to,” Joey answers evenly, then takes off. His hands are at nine and three on the steering wheel, and his eyes move steadily across traffic ahead of us. He’s an incredible driver, which doesn’t surprise me, and we glide through the busy streets as we talk. “I cancelled on the guy,” Joey adds.
