“Sounds good.” Professor Herrera led us in cleaning up before Professor Tuttle got too worn out. Milo proved what an awesome house guest he was going to be as he washed the big pots while Kellan and I put stuff away. Meanwhile, the professors worked putting their dining room to rights again.
“I saw George last night backstage at the revue,” Kellan said as we worked. “He was talking smack. Are you gonna put him in his place? I wanna see that.”
“No. Probably not.” I couldn’t keep the regret from my tone, and I very carefully avoided looking at Milo.
“You really want to, don’t you?” Milo asked me softly.
“Yeah. I do. But you asked me not to do that, so I won’t, but man, stomping him would feel so good.”
“And if you lost?” Milo’s mouth was a thin, narrow line.
I shrugged. “At least I would have tried. Even heroes have off days.”
With damp hands, Milo turned me by my shoulders, so we were eye to eye. “You’re already my hero.”
I’d waited maybe my whole life to hear those words, and my jaw dropped open, mouth filling with so many words I wanted to say and—
“Aw, you guys…”
I’d totally forgotten Kellan was still three feet away from us. “Kellan—”
“I’m going. Heading out now. Catch you both tomorrow.” Laughing, Kellan grabbed his coat and ducked out the back door.
“You mean that?” I asked the second the door clicked. “I’m your hero?”
“You are. No matter how this turns out. You saved me from myself, and that makes you a superhero in my book.”
“Wow. I always wanted to be the hero.” I could admit that aloud to him because he knew. He knew the kid I’d been who had wanted the cape and fancy costume and the big, daring rescues. It was part of why I loved being an older brother so much—I got to be April’s hero now and then. And Milo also knew the guy I was now, the one who let that urge to be the hero get the better of him sometimes. Like last night. Milo didn’t need rescuing, and I knew that he needed to do his own saving sometimes. However, all those big realizations didn’t stop me from wanting to swing in with the win anyway.
“You don’t have to win me the cards, but it means a lot that you want to try, even if I hate the idea of you anywhere near that scuzzbucket.”
“I know.” The air went out of my superhero fantasy, cape deflating. I wasn’t going to go behind Milo’s back or risk making him upset, not when we were finally in such a good place together.
“Too bad you can’t do a fake-out.” Milo looked away, studying the refrigerator art which as usual was a collection of tickets to upcoming events, magnets from their travels, and random drawings.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re big on me asking for help. Why not ask Conrad to hook you up with another ticket? Call in a favor. George doesn’t have to know you’ve got the hookup, and then it wouldn’t feel so much like you’re gambling your whole future on me.”
“It would be worth it though. I’d bet everything on you. On us.” I met his gaze, trying to convey how serious I was. I’d risk everything to be with him, and in the grand scheme of things, the ticket to the event was nothing compared to how I felt about him. My future employment could work itself out.
“I know.” Milo nodded slowly. “And I’m still selling the car. Whether you win or not.”
“Of c—Wait. You’re going to let me play him?”
“You don’t need my permission.” Milo made a sour expression. “I don’t want to be that kind of controlling boyfriend—”
“Hey, I’ll take you being a boyfriend, period.”
“Be serious for a sec. You deserve a non-dickhead boyfriend and to make your own choices, same as me. If you want to play George, play him. Like Kellan said, a lot of people would love to see you win.”
“Thanks.” Another thought occurred to me. “Two tickets would mean I could bring you along. If I won.”
Another magical night with Prince Neptune? I was totally in favor of that, but also the scheming side of my brain was already thinking of ways to show off Milo’s art to the right people.
“You’ll win.” He sounded absolutely convinced and I hoped he was right. I didn’t want to let him down, but more important, I didn’t want to let myself down.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Milo
“Okay, very funny, guys.” George sneered as he entered the room, a supermodel-attractive girl and a guy who looked familiar from the revue following him. “This isn’t a duel at dawn. Did we really need fifty texts laying out the terms of engagement? Seconds? Neutral location? Judge? Isn’t this overkill?”
“Nah.” Game face on, Jasper slapped his deck bag down onto the table in one of the student union’s private study rooms. He had Kellan and me flanking him, exactly like this was a duel as we stared down the competition.