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Milo asked the same thing. But I’ve spent the whole of our friendship worrying that somebody would come along and whisk him away, leaving me alone. When I realized what I felt for him wasn’t normal, that nobody is this focused on their best friend, I told myself I’d keep it a secret.
I’ve been so convinced he’ll leave once he knows the truth. Because if he left, he’d take a piece of me with him.
But he stayed, didn’t he? Instead, I was the one who pulled away. The look on his face when I’d told him we should just be friends is seared behind my eyelids. I’m obsessed with every part of you, he’d said. Then I basically told him to fuck off.
The thought dawns on me like the sun cresting over the horizon. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.
“I’m an idiot.” I duck out of Elsie’s hold, my stomach rolling. “I pushed him away when he tried to get closer and got mad that he was upset. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he hates you.” She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “No, listen. I’ve watched you two pseudo-flirt for years. Last time I met him, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Talking about Milo is, like, your only hobby. That type of connection doesn’t disappear overnight.”
I pace around the kitchen, needing to move to calm my building nerves. “I should see him, right? I should go to his house and ask to talk.”
“If you think it’s a good idea.”
It’s possibly the best idea I’ve had all week. Pushing Milo away was a mistake. If Elsie’s right, I could have had a shot with him. Instead, I chose fear. Just like I did in high school when I was too scared of being myself, so I became whatever Ethan wanted.
This time is different. I want every part of Milo. The smiles, the bad jokes, the lectures on random facts I don’t care about, but I listen anyway because I love how he sounds when he’s passionate about something. But also, the kissing, the handholding, the way his body feels pressed against mine.
For a few glorious days, I had everything I’d ever wanted, and I threw it all away because of fear.
I was scared. I still am. But I want to be as brave as he is, to match up to the Callum that Milo Park chose to be friends with.
I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to me after I’ve royally fucked everything up, but I’m willing to try. He’s made his move, now the ball is in my court. And I think I’m finally ready to play.
“Thank you.” I grab Elsie in a quick hug, whirling her around the kitchen. “I owe you one.”
She laughs and hits my chest. “I’ll ward the dragons off. Go get your guy, kiddo.”
7
I’m so eager to see Milo that I only stop to grab the necklace from my nightstand. I race out of the house, my parents’ voices echoing behind me. Nothing could keep me away from him, not now.
It takes less than ten minutes to drive to his house, and before I know it, I’m staring at the familiar painted door, about to knock when it swings open.
Milo pauses when he sees me. He looks like he hasn’t slept, purple smudges under his eyes, his hair hanging in damp tendrils around his face.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Got room for one more?”
“Depends why you’re here.”
The sharpness in his voice pierces my chest. “Please? I come in peace.”
He leans against the door, the corners of his lips pulled into a frown. After a few moments of silence, he finally inclines his head and steps back into the house. Smiling weakly, I hurry inside before he can change his mind. The door clicks shut, and darkness settles over us like a blanket.
“Mom’s not home,” Milo says as he leads me upstairs. “She’s been staying at a friend’s house when I’m not here and Kai has to go home.”
“Is she okay?”
“A lot better, yeah. Doctor says she’ll be ready to work again next week.”
We pause at a familiar door, and I’m struck by a wave of nostalgia. Milo glances at me, his eyes sparkling even in the dark, and I know he feels it too.
His bedroom is exactly like how I remember it, complete with 2000s fantasy movie posters plastered to the walls and overstuffed bookshelves. I trail a hand over his wooden desk, marveling at the organization. His Psychology textbooks are arranged neatly along the wall and what looks like an essay is stacked beside his old laptop, still decorated with peeling The Lord of the Rings and Silica Gel stickers.
“Do you want anything?” Milo asks. “I think we have some banana milk left.”
That draws a small smile from me. “Can’t believe you remember that.”
