It was hard for me to sort through because while I was still learning Milo’s quirks, even when I joked, or if he wasn’t sure what to think of my sarcasm, he always told me. Even when he thought my jokes were dumb, he told me. He didn’t leave the way Orlando said he had. “That’s because your jokes are shit.”
“Your boyfriend agrees with you.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yet.” He waggled his eyebrows, but I ignored him. I was worried about Milo.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I told him.
Orlando nodded and headed out like I’d hoped he would. I finished putting away the ink and then fucked around the shop. If Milo was anything like me, he would want to be alone for a little while. I hated feeling like people were up in my space when I was upset. I needed some time to myself before I wanted to be around others again.
But I was also nervous and pacing, and fuck, I just wanted to talk to him. “I’m going to head upstairs for a bit,” I told Freddy, who was inking a customer.
“Cool, man. You comin’ back?”
“Not sure.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look at me, his concentration completely on the work he was doing. Freddy was incredible with color; I admired that talent in him.
When I went inside the apartment, I saw Milo’s pants hanging on the rack. He wasn’t joking when he said he hated wearing them at home. He never did. I wondered what he’d done in San Diego when he had company. But that was why he left them by the door—in case someone knocked and he needed to put them on. “Lo? You in here?”
“No!” he called from his bedroom, and I smiled.
I headed that way and gave a soft knock, even though he had to have known I was coming. “Then how did you answer me?”
“It’s sarcasm. I do know what that is if you were wondering.”
I frowned. Yeah, sometimes he struggled trying to determine if I was being sarcastic or not, but I hoped I never made him feel like I didn’t think he understood it. “I’m coming in. Tell me now if you don’t want me to.”
When he didn’t respond, I slid the door open slowly. His room was as clean as always. Three books were stacked on one nightstand, perfectly aligned, as if it was something he consistently made sure of, even though they weren’t the same ones I’d seen there before.
That wasn’t what held my attention, though. I sucked air through my teeth the moment my eyes found him because while I’d seen Milo without pants every day in the past couple of weeks, I hadn’t seen him with no pants or shirt while lying on his bed, scowling cutely at me. His stomach was flat but not incredibly defined, his nipples light brown and pointed. His chest was slightly broader than his slim waist. He didn’t have the kind of muscles you got in a gym or working manual labor all day, but they were distinct—the small ball in each bicep looking firmer on his crossed arms.
The happy trail that led below the band on his underwear was the same red as the hair on his head, but what I really loved were the freckles peppered all over his shoulders and likely down his back. I couldn’t help wondering what they tasted like. Stop that! You’re not supposed to think about wanting to taste him. He’s your friend, and he’s upset.
“You’re looking at me weird,” he said, tugging me from my appreciation of his body.
“I’m always doing something weird with you.”
He frowned. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re not scowling at me anymore.” I went over and stood beside the bed. His hair was wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
“I met your brother.” He turned his head in the opposite direction.
“I heard. Apparently, you’re not too happy about that…and maybe not with me either since you won’t even look at me. Not sure what I did wrong, but I’d like to know, if you’re willing to tell me.” A minute of silence stretched between us, feeling heavy. “If he somehow offended you with the husband thing or anything else he said, that’s just my brother being an idiot. He has a terrible sense of humor. I tell him so all the time.”
“That threw me at first,” he admitted, then sighed and repositioned himself so he was sitting crossed-legged. He sat like that often, I noticed. I joined him but on the edge of the bed, giving him his space. “I know I can’t control my environment all the time. And that’s fine. I’m used to it. I know how to deal with it, but I was a little off-balance because he was there, and the first thing he did was call me his brother-in-law. I wasn’t sure what to think. Like…did I have more family I didn’t know about? It took me a second to realize he was your brother, but by then I was already flustered, and then, when I told him we weren’t dating, he said he just liked to give you shit, so I started to worry that dating me would be something to tease someone about.”