With an armful of questionable snacks, I return to the room. The same intern from earlier sees me and kindly offers me a branded tote bag. I thank him and dump all the snacks into it, then return to my wall and ponder how to sneak Milo something to eat while he’s modeling what, no doubt, are expensive clothes.
To my surprise, Milo changes back into his jeans and hoodie, while the stylists all gather in one area.
“That’s a wrap,” Ray says, leading Milo toward me. “Good work. Let’s get you home to rest. I’m starving. Are you hungry? We should order some delivery.”
Milo nods enthusiastically. I hand him the tote bag.
“What’s this?” he asks and peeks inside. His eyes go wide when he sees the snacks. “You got me food?”
Ray’s also looking at me with a strange expression in his eyes, and I’m left with the distinct feeling that I fucked up.
“Dunno if you’ll find anything palatable, but it’ll at least pad your stomach until you guys can get some real food,” I tell him awkwardly.
Milo nods, rummages through the bag, and lights up like fucking fireworks when he pulls out the bag of low-carb pretzels. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone happier to see cauliflower made into food that it should never be associated with.
This is sacrilegious to all baked goods!
“Score! This is amazing. Thanks!” Milo passes the bag to Ray and tears open the bag of imitation pretzels.
Ray shakes his head as we watch him devour it in two mouthfuls. He takes a granola bar for himself, chews it slowly,and eyes Milo grabbing another snack: a pack of cheesy sticks that claim to be healthy and low calorie.
“You know you’ll have to work this off later,” Ray says between chewing.
Milo rolls his eyes in a way that tells me he’s used to Ray’s nagging. “That’s why I have a home gym.”
Ray scoffs. “Like you use it.”
Milo’s smile is almost wicked. “Sure I do. I remember using itrealwell just the other day.” He pauses, I’m assuming for dramatic effect. He taps a cheesy finger to his lips, leaving behind an artificial yellow stain.
I resist the urge to lick the cheese away with my tongue.
Milo glances at me, and my heart jumps out of my chest, worried that he can somehow read my thoughts. Milo’s focus is back on Ray before I can fully start panicking. He taps his lips again, and the stain gets bigger.
“I remember someone being there with me. Someone on the bike?” Ray’s eyes go big. “Someone in their booty shorts who bragged that they were the king of spin class, yet managed to get his foot caught in a wheel and go topsy-turvy with his bare ass in—nmm-hmm-mm!”
Milo’s sentence is cut off with Ray’s hand covering his mouth. Milo shoots daggers at him, and Ray returns his own glare. He then glances at me and, with a stiff chuckle, says, “Don’t listen to him. He speaks nonsense when he’s hungr—ouch!”
Ray shakes his hand and reveals teeth marks from where I’m assuming Milo bit him.
“Goblin! Goblin, I tell you!” he exclaims with both hands in the air and heads for the exit.
Milo is happily chomping on his cheese sticks and ignoring Ray’s reaction while following close behind. He catches me watching him and offers the open snack bag he’s holding to me. “Want some?”
“Uh, no, thanks. You got some cheese on your bottom lip.”
His pink tongue darts out to lick away the stain. My mouth goes dry, but I can’t move my gaze away. The cheese stain is gone, and he gives his lips one more lick before beaming at me. This close, his smile might as well be a laser shot straight into my gut, because a sucker punch might ache less than having his pearly white weapon aimed straight at me.
I use every ounce of force to look away, because I’m a professional, damn it, and I don’t get starstruck like a brainless fanboy.
We catch up to Ray—whose default walking speed is a mile a minute, by the way—and reach the car before we even have time to feel cold. I keep my entire focus on the road as the two in the back seat are in an animated discussion on what to order for takeout.
“Any thoughts, Rowan?”
I’m caught off guard by Milo suddenly bringing me into the conversation. I peek at him through the rearview mirror to find his expectant eyes already on me.
“Uh, not really,” I reply, my voice going rough.
I think I feel my ears heating up from the sound of my name on his lips, but that can’t be, because I. Do.Not. Blush.
