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“Hello, sweet pea.”
I know it’s irrational to be jealous of a bird, but I bare my teeth at him over Millie’s shoulder when she crosses to greet him with kissing sounds that he echoes. She offers him a nut that he happily takes, and she strokes him through the bars. “I think he’s doing really well, huh?”
“If you say so,” I grumble, and that’s when Harold puffs up his feathers.
“Hey, dickhead.”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Millie smoothers a laugh. “Austin!”
“What? He started it.”
“You both need to be nice to each other.” Then she turns to the bird. “Don’t you, sweet pea? You’re going to be nice to your daddy? Yes. Yes, you are. Now say you’re sorry.”
“Sorry! Sorry!”
She turns to me expectantly, and I shake my head. But she says, “If you want me to go on your errand, you’ll apologize.”
I heave a sigh that has her shooting a glare at me. I rake my fingers through my hair and exhale through my nose, refusing. She stands up straight and crosses her arms, waiting. I tip my head because no. No way am I going to— “Fine. Fuck. Sorry, Harold.”
Millie smiles as Harold chirps happily. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Especially when she bends, bringing her face close to his cage, and he reaches out with his beak as if kissing the tip of her nose.
“See you later,” she tells him, and he clacks his tongue before squawking, “Play Elton! Play Elton!”
She set up a Bluetooth for him a few weeks ago and tells Alexa to play Harold’s list, which is a custom playlist Millie curated for the bird.
I hate him all the more for it.
Except when she finally spins around to face me, beaming, I can admit I don’t really hate him because he keeps Millie coming back. “So, where’re we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“You know I hate surprises,” she tells me as I lock up behind us.
“I know, but you’ll like this one.”
“An errand I’ll like?”
As we wait for the elevator, I confess, “It’s not an errand. It’s…something fun.”
“Something fun? That we’re doing together?” When I nod, a divot forms between her brows. “I don’t get it. Is this like…a date? Because you didn’t ask me if I wanted to go on a date, and I’m not wearing a bra.”
Of course, my focus is immediately drawn to her chest. She’s wearing a plain green T-shirt that hits her waist, highlighting her trim curves. Her shorts are cotton and tiny. Millie’s average height, but her legs appear miles long, capped off by her Chuck Taylors. I can’t tell that she’s not wearing a bra, but the knowledge alone has me holding back a groan.
“What does not wearing a bra have to do with anything?” I ask as we walk into the elevator.
Millie hits the button for the ground floor. “If we’re going out in public, I want to look respectable.”
“You always look respectable.”
She waves me off. “Maybe for you, but the general public is afraid of nipples.”
I nearly choke on my next breath, laughing into a cough. She tilts her head back, eyes twinkling with mirth, as if she’s proud of being able to break me.
“Nipples are what you find funny?”
“No, just… You are funny.”
