“I can’t seem to stay mad at you,” I admitted, putting an arm around him. “I still think you should have told me.”
“And that’s a fair point. I’ll try to do better at keeping you in the loop.” His earnest tone went a long way to making more of my upset vanish, but the deeper unease at the idea of letting him play George lingered.
“Good.” I kissed the top of his head.
“Things will work out, Milo. You’ll see.”
I wished I believed him, wished I could channel even half of his endless optimism. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of doom that had plagued me the last few days. What I could do, however, was kiss him, my mouth finding his right there in the front seat of his car. He tasted sweet, like the chocolate shake, and his mouth was soft and giving as he melted into me. Moaning quietly, I tried to bottle up this moment when he believed so surely in me, in us, in our chances.
“Race you to your room?” I asked when we reluctantly pulled apart.
“You’re on.” He beamed at me, lips still shiny from the kiss. This was all probably still going to collapse, but I wasn’t going to waste time arguing with him now. There’d be time enough for that later.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jasper
In the end, no one raced up to my room. We walked. I wasn’t going to let Milo strain his leg again. But we did turn the speed on by the open door of my RA. Last thing I needed was him noticing that Milo had stayed over consecutive nights. I wasn’t sure what the max was for visitors, but I probably needed to look that up soon.
Later.
Because right then, my door was shutting behind us and Milo’s lips were on my neck and all I could think about was the precise number of steps to my bed. Our coats and shoes made an inelegant heap on the floor as even Milo forgot to be a clean freak for once.
But as he tugged me the four-and-a-half steps to the bed, my inner good-guy nudged my shoulder.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Uh-huh.” Milo seemed to have a thing about my neck right then, and I’d need a shirt with a collar tomorrow. Which I didn’t care one bit about, but Mr. Good Guy wasn’t done lecturing me yet, and I ducked another kiss.
“Last night—”
“Was last night. And I’m sorry.” Milo landed his next kiss right in the center of my throat, making me give a happy sigh.
“You don’t have to be sorry. You had an awful day yesterday. And you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Milo cut me off by tumbling me onto the bed. “Can’t you tell how much?”
“Maybe a little.” I wiggled so that our torsos were aligned, and yeah, there was no mistaking that he was into this. That inner Good Guy of mine breathed a sigh of relief as I told him to go take a hike. I had this. And for right then, I had Milo, and I was going to enjoy every ridiculous moment.
“Who are you calling little?” Laughing, he kissed the tip of my nose.
“Definitely not you.”
“Good.” He sat up enough so he could pull off his shirt. And I probably should have removed my own clothes, but all I could do was marvel at the wonder that was Milo naked.
“It’s too bad we weren’t together when I accidentally took that poetry class sophomore year. I could have written my final portfolio all about your muscles. One of each type of sonnet.”
“Ha. More like a limerick. There once was a jock from around the block…”
“Dork. But I’d read that.” I laughed and went ahead and removed my shirt.
“Maybe we’re both dorks.” Milo dropped a kiss on my bare shoulder in between us scrambling out of the rest of our clothes.
“Totally.” I gave a happy sigh as we settled back onto the bed together, skin to skin.
“Jasper?” Milo sounded serious, even for him, and I hoped we weren’t about to renew the George debate.
“Yeah?” I said warily.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around your sophomore year.”
Regret was way easier to navigate than irritation, and I’d been doing a fair bit of thinking on this myself.
“I’m not.” My voice was firm.
“No?” Frowning, his face creased with way more hurt than I’d intended.
“I wasn’t ready. Not for you. Not for this. You weren’t the only one who needed to grow up.” I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I needed every breakup and hookup that went nowhere, but that time post–high school to discover who I was truly meant to be had been key, had led me here to this place where it was possible to forgive, to move on, and to build something real and solid and distinctly more lasting than a teenage fling.