Out of Character (True Colors 2)

“You. Kissed. Me.” No way was I letting him pin this on me. Sure, I’d kissed back, rather enthusiastically, but he’d made that first move.

“I know. I shouldn’t have done that.” Groaning, Milo rested his head on the steering wheel. “God. We have to get out of here.”

I could already tell it was going to be a long, cold drive back home. “You can’t leave me on the side of the road.”

“What?” Milo blinked at me as he started up the car. “Why would I do that?”

“Uh, maybe because you’re freaking out?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously.” His gaze kept shifting around, like he was afraid to look directly at me for more than a second.

“Obviously. Look, I’m sorry if your little experiment didn’t go like you planned, but you don’t get to blame me.”

“It wasn’t an experiment.” Making a face, Milo gestured at the still foggy windshield. “Come. On. Stupid heater. The one thing that I don’t like about this car.”

“The hell it wasn’t an experiment.” Now I was mad. And I didn’t get mad very often, but I’d had about an eight-year running start on this head of steam. “Look at you right now, desperate to get away from the fact that you kissed me. And I could tell it wasn’t something you do on the regular. You haven’t kissed a guy before, have you?”

“You could tell?” Milo made a horrified noise that would have been adorable under other circumstances. “It was bad?”

No, actually it was stupendous, gloriously good. But I wasn’t admitting that. “The fact that you don’t know whether it was good or bad is more proof that this was some sort of walk on the wild side—”

“Stop saying that.” Milo punctuated his demand by finally putting the car in gear and heading to the exit.

“Oh. I’m sorry. You just happened to collide mouths with the guy you couldn’t stand until a few days ago. Yep. Totally normal everyday occurrence. Dude bros do that all the time, right?”

“Would you stop?” Milo braked harder than necessary at the bottom of the parking-garage ramp.

“Watch it.” I almost lost my grip on the card display case. Turning, I gently transferred it to the back before something could happen to it—like me losing all patience and launching it at Milo’s head. Which would be ill-advised and totally unlike me, but I wasn’t exactly feeling the most composed right then. Better not risk it.

Milo glared at me as soon as I settled back into my seat. “I never said I couldn’t stand you. You’re the one who hates me—with good reason.”

“Oh? You did a really good impression of it for years.” I still wasn’t over high school. Earlier in the day, I’d thought some of my hurt was mellowing, but now the kiss had brought everything I’d tried to ignore right back to the surface.

“I know. I fucked up. Both back then and again right now. I gave you a bad kiss you didn’t want in the middle of a parking garage where anyone could have seen us.” Milo made the turn out of the parking garage to head for the interstate. His tone was as mournful as his eyes. “I get why you’re so angry at me. I do. But you’ve also got it all wrong.”

I was willing to admit that I was being a little bit of a jerk, jumping to conclusions based on a mutual past I’d rather forget. And almost all of my jerky behavior had to do with how damn good that kiss had actually been and how quick Milo had been to regret it. “Educate me.”

“I probably deserve the dude-bro crack, but I’m not…experimenting. Or straight.” Milo’s voice was far softer now. “Trust me. I’ve spent years wishing…”

“Oh?” Planets shifted, realigned, fundamental truths of my universe rearranging themselves within that one syllable.

“I’m not brave like you, okay? I mean, that was probably clear in the whole terrible-at-kissing thing. But that doesn’t mean I’m confused.”

“It wasn’t that terrible of a kiss,” I allowed, some of my anger giving way to massive befuddlement. Hurt was there, too, but I was trying to ignore that ache behind my sternum for the moment. “But seriously? You’ve never kissed…anyone?”

“A couple of pecks with dates I got talked into. I have…something of a rep.” Milo quirked his lips as we hit another red light, his braking more controlled now. “Like as the nicest guy among my friend group—”

“Not a high bar,” I grumbled.

“Granted. But I ended up hanging out with several girls who didn’t want to go there for a variety of reasons. And then I got the rep for being a great just-friends date for formals and stuff. My buddies would tease me about spending life in the friend zone with these unattainable crushes. But that was easier than admitting the truth.”

“Which is?” I wasn’t trying to be mean and make him say the words. I was genuinely curious as to how he might put it.