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“Elsie thinks it’s about a divorce,” I say. The words feel unfamiliar in my mouth. I’ve never said it out loud before.
Milo winces. “That sounds rough. I’m sorry, Cal.”
I shrug, hunching over my beer can. “It’s been a long time coming. Dad’s slept in the spare room for the last six months.”
All that’s left is to make it official. I take a few swigs of beer, then a few more, trying to settle the tension in my shoulders.
Milo shuffles closer, his face pressed near mine until all I can focus on is his hot breath fanning against my ear. I press our thighs together, drinking in the contact like a man dying of thirst.
It’s always been like this between us; a concerning lack of personal space. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. The only time I feel real is when we’re touching.
“Love is overrated,” Milo says, eyes trained on a spot to the left of my nose. “It hurts too much.”
“I don’t know, dude. What about those old couples who’ve been married for thirty years or whatever? Don’t you want that?”
He hums, gaze still focused on that spot. Frowning, I touch my cheek.
“Is there something on my face?”
“Yeah, let me—”
Before I can do anything, Milo grabs my chin and tilts my face to the left, brushing strong fingers against my skin.
My breath hitches in my throat. The memory I’ve tried to bury all day floods my mind. All-encompassing heat, the sweet tang of cherry cologne, a hard cock pressed against me. Fuck.
Milo strokes a thumb over my cheek. “People don’t fall in love forever. Everybody leaves eventually.”
“You don’t believe that. What about all those guys you bring back to your dorm?”
“Have you been keeping track or something?”
“Or something.” I lick my lips, trying to focus past the feeling of his fingers gripping my chin. “It’s not like you’re secretive about it.”
A strange expression passes over his face like a cloud, his eyes full of an emotion I can’t parse. We’re so close I could lean forward and press my lips against his.
Then Milo lets go of my chin, shifting away until only our shoulders are touching, and the moment passes. The loss of warmth is almost paralyzing.
“Sex is easy without feelings,” he says. “You can’t get hurt if you weren’t attached in the first place. It makes it easier when they leave. I don’t think I could handle it if you—if anyone I cared about left me.”
“So, you’ve never been in love?”
Milo purses his lips and averts his gaze, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “I have.”
Something green and ugly rears in my chest. I try to imagine Milo having a boyfriend. Him gushing about his new partner, responding to my texts less, focusing on his new relationship instead of on me. Clenching my fist, I dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palm.
“Enough about me,” Milo says, nudging my shoulder. “What about you, Love Doctor?”
“Nobody’s been interested. We can’t all be sex gods like you.”
I’ve gone on a few dates, but none of them ever went anywhere. Besides, the last girlfriend I tried to have dumped me because I ‘talked about Milo too much’. It’s not my fault that the museum she wanted to visit is also Milo’s favorite. I thought he’d enjoy the day with us. Wrong call. She texted me the next day saying we weren’t going to work out.
That was a year ago, and I haven't been compelled to try again since, not with a girl or a guy.
Milo’s expression softens. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I wouldn’t have to do it if I wasn’t such a coward.”
“Who is it?”
“It doesn’t matter, because it’s never going to work out.”
