“Oh wow,” Milo says, responding to the look on my face. “Wait, really?”
I shake my head. Most people can’t read my face. I’ve trained myself to keep a flat expression, but he seems to be figuring me out. “No, sorry,” I say and force a chuckle. “No burned-down houses.”
Milo nods and holds his hands up. “Right, sorry. I won’t push.” His fingers wiggle a little as he lays them back on the table. “I’m babbling from the coffee and the sugar. This always happens.”
I chuckle, glad that the moment is passing. “You’re fine,” I tell him. “I like listening to you.”
“Well, that’s fortunate for me because you know how I am sometimes.” He laughs. “Maybe if I get enough tattoos, I’ll be able to keep my mouth shut when you’re inking me. I wouldn’t exactly bet on it, though. Just… why do you like it?”
“Well, I don’t have to talk as much, for starters.”
Milo laughs. “I can imagine you would find that relaxing.” His cheeks curve up in a smile as he looks at me, and I feel his foot push against mine under the table. “Do you ever like to read with other people?”
“Read with other people?”
“Well, if you like not talking much, it’s a good way to be quiet together,” he points out.
I stab some more pie. “I read when I take the bus. There’s other people around then.”
Milo tilts his head to the side. “You know that doesn’t count. Anyway, like I said, I’m just babbling. I’m not trying to invite you over to read or anything. I mean, I do want to invite you in, when you drop me off, but I should be doing work.”
Fuck, he’s cute when he runs his mouth like that. But for once, instead of saying something that makes it impossible to keep my hands off of him, he’s actually given me an excuse to tear myself away. “You’ve got to study,” I nod, “and I’ve got to run errands. But we can meet up this weekend, if you’re around.”
“This weekend, fantastic,” Milo says, then pushes his foot against my leg again. “You could even come over to my place, if you want. My housemates are going to be out of town.”
“Sure,” I agree. “Your place.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
MILO
Did it feel weird,the first time you had Stone over?
I lean back against the counter. It’s Saturday night after a long week at school, and I’m texting Matty while I wait for Joey to show up. I’ve already pulled my best friend onto the phone twice, once to help me pick an outfit and a second time to help me pick out a beer at the corner store. Luckily, though, he’s available for my pre-date nerves and totally happy to indulge me.
First time he came over we were just fake dating,Matty text backs. I think I was anxious when he looked at my puppet collection, though.
I grin. I happen to think his collection of props from his stop motion animation career is pretty cool, but I can understand how it might feel funny, showing your puppets to a date, fake or not.
My thumbs fly across the phone.not like I think he’ll judge me, I just want it to go well, you know?
Matty responds with a flurry of hearts and smiley faces.I’m sure it will!seems like you always have fun together!When he adds a smiley devil emoji, I bite down on my lip.
I don’t know that I’ve ever felt as compatible with someone as I do with Joey. The second we’re together, a charge pulls me into his heat, and when we fuck, it’s like we instantly move as one. It’s so strong, I never really have time to doubt it or doubt myself.
I need that again. I need to feel him on me, and against me, and inside me. I need it so bad, I can almost forget the fact that I can’t truly have Joey. That this can only be whatever it is now, for however long it lasts.
A knock on the door snaps me to attention, and a second later, he’s there. Joey stands in the doorway of my house. He’s wearing his black leather jacket and the pair of gray denim jeans that hug his thick thighs in a way I love and show off his firm ass. Over his shoulder, he has a backpack, which looks a little worn.
“Hi,” I say, then pull him into a hug. “Come on in.”
“Nice place,” Joey says as he kicks his boots off.
“Thanks.” I’m wearing my pink jeans and a collared white shirt, buttoned tight but with the sleeves rolled all the way up to show my tattoo. For a second, Joey and I look at each other, and I feel his eyes on me. “Let me show you around. Can I take your stuff?”
He seems to hesitate for a second with his bag, but hands it over with his jacket. I lift it up and raise an eyebrow. “You don’t usually carry a backpack.”
Joey shrugs. He’s got a funny look on his face, like he’s hesitating or something, and it makes me want to playfully poke at him. “I had to grab some stuff from the studio earlier. And a book,” he explains.
