Out of Character (True Colors 2)

“Yeah, but sometimes learning a lesson sucks, and it’s okay to be mad, especially at jerks.”

I had a feeling we weren’t still talking about my bad sexual experiences. And sure, I’d been mad at Milo back then. Furious, really. But I also didn’t like what being angry turned me into. And I’d also found that more and more what I truly needed was Milo to forgive himself. “I don’t really do mad. Moving on is more productive anyway.”

“You’re almost too mature for your own good.” He shook his head and I laughed because mature and me were not often used in the same sentence. “Get mad at that dude. Heck, I’m mad on your behalf. Your first time should have been way better.”

“Not everything can be fairy-tale perfect.”

“Mine was.” Milo leaned in for a soft kiss that melted all my muscles. “Everything about tonight. That’s why I’m not sleepy. I don’t want it to end.”

“I’m glad. I wanted that for you.” If anything, having a less-than-great first time had made me super determined to make it good for Milo, and knowing I’d succeeded made my whole body warm in a way that had little to do with arousal.

“I want that for you too. I want you to have…everything.”

His tender look was almost too much for me, and I gave a shaky laugh. “I’d settle for a peek at your drawing.”

“Okay.” He nodded like he knew that I’d reached my breaking point for heavy, emotional talk before passing over his sketchbook. “It’s not done…”

Mr. Humble as always had undersold his talent. It wasn’t simply me on a bed like I’d expected. No, he’d given me some sort of Victorian fainting couch, something that the frog magician would approve of, and the pieces of my costume were strewn about me.

“Oh, Milo. This is…incredible. Sexy. Perfect.” It was. He’d captured my likeness down to the freckles on my shoulders. My very bare likeness. My cheeks heated even as my heart tried to clamber its way out of my chest. “Like, I’m never letting anyone else see it, but I love it.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Ducking his head, Milo reclaimed the sketchbook, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with being bashful. I crawled into his lap on the chair, which probably wasn’t designed to hold both of us but oh well. If it broke, it would be more than worth this moment, his lips on mine, his hands skimming over my body. The kiss went on and on, and him holding me close like this was everything I’d ever wanted.

Buzz. My phone rudely vibrated right in the middle of a decent song and our spectacular kiss.

“That’s my mom’s tone. I need to check it, make sure nothing’s wrong.”

“I felt bad for April tonight. I know she wanted to come.”

“Me too,” I said as I grabbed for the phone and scrolled to my messages. “And yup, that’s what this is about. Mom’s up late because she’s stressed. She wants me to come to dinner after work tomorrow so I can tell April all about the ball, maybe cheer her up with some company.”

“That’s a good plan.” Milo absently stroked my sides like I was a lap cat, and I stretched into the attention.

“You should come.”

“To dinner at your mom’s house?” Hands stilling, he sounded like I’d proposed a public execution.

“You don’t have to sound so horrified. You’ve eaten there before.” I turned so I could see his face better.

“Yeah, but that was back when they liked me.”

“They can like you again.” Just like me. The unspoken words hung between us. But honestly, if I’d found my way to liking Milo again, so could anyone else. “Give them a chance. If they can see you’ve changed—”

“Feels like it might never be enough.” Sighing heavily, Milo held me tighter. “And like, I get it. If I were a parent, I wouldn’t like me either. I was a jerk. They’re entitled to their grudge.”

“Maybe, but they can get over it. Like I said, mad isn’t productive. They—and you—need to move on.” I needed Milo to believe in his own changes even more than I needed my parents to. They could get over their anger because I’d seen it before, but I wasn’t as sure about Milo, who seemed determined to flog himself for all of eternity for past mistakes.

“I get that.” His mouth twisted. “Dinner still feels…”

“Scary? I’m not saying we waltz in there holding hands. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t out you. You can come as a friend. Which you are. And if you’re a friend who’s planning to stick around—”

“I am.” On this point he was firm, and he punctuated the words with a kiss on my forehead.

“Good. And so, if you’re going to be part of my life, they need to get used to that. April already likes you. Mom’s making lasagna, which probably isn’t going to be up to Italian grandma standards, but it is still awesome. Let me text her back that you’re coming too? I’ll just say that you and I already had plans to hang out, but that I’m bringing you to dinner first. Easy.”