“It should.” Another snort. “The man thought foreplay meant complimenting himself in my ear.”
“Oh my God.”
“Exactly.” She dissolved into laughter again. When she had control of herself, she drank her tea. “The worst part was that afterward he looked at me very seriously and said, ‘You’re welcome.’”
My jaw dropped. “No.”
“Yes.”
“That cannot be real.”
“Unfortunately it is tragically real.”
I shook my head. “I suddenly understand your sexuality much better.”
Mila threw a pillow at me, that I managed to dodge. Then her expression eased into something more thoughtful. “The problem wasn’t that he was bad at sex.” She shrugged. “It was that I never felt… seen. He was so busy trying to impress me that he never noticed whether I was actually comfortable.”
The humor drained quietly from the room.
“And Donna?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Mila smiled. “Donna noticed everything.”
I had seen Mila smile before.
Not like this.
“She paid attention,” Mila said quietly. “Not in a dramatic way, just… naturally. She cared whether I was comfortable. She asked if I was okay. She listened when I answered.” Her smile deepened at the memory. “And before anything even happened, she made me laugh so much I stopped feeling nervous without realizing it.”
I understood exactly what she meant. Not the details, but the feeling behind it, the safety inside it.
The tightness in my chest eased.
Dean would do those things too.I knew it instinctively.
Mila glanced sideways at me. “You trust him.”
It was not a question.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“And he adores you.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, it is exhausting to witness.”
“That is not helpful.”
“It should be.” She beamed. “Luka, this isDean. When he looks at you, even I blush.”
My face was on fire.
Mila laughed at my expression. Then her voice dropped.
“And whatever happens tonight, I promise you one thing. He is going to care far more about you being okay than whether everything is perfect.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Do you want to know the most important thing I learned?”
“Of course.”
Mila leaned forward, her cup held between her knees.
“It is supposed to feel good,” she said simply. “Not perfect, not cinematic, and definitelynottechnically impressive.” Her lips twitched. “You may both be elite athletes, but this is one situation where nobody is holding up score cards afterward.”
