With Trust - 7. Tempted

I was getting dizzy. Every time I leaned forward, I’d feel Milo, his lips moving timidly beneath the onslaught of mine. His tongue was a pleasant thing. I kept searching it out, feeling him respond. My hands were busy, too. I discovered an interest in touching his neck. His skin was soft, warm. He shivered when I touched him there. I moved my fingers upwards, over his face. My thumb brushed his chin, lifting it so he could better meet my mouth. His hands went to my wrists, his fingers wrapped around them so tightly that my hands tingled. At first it felt like he wanted my hands off him, and meant to pull them away. But he did no such thing; he just gripped my wrists, moving with me every time my fingers moved to explore a new inch of skin.

I kept my eyes mostly closed. The first girl I’d ever kissed, back in the seventh grade, had informed me that it was rude to kiss with my eyes open. I guess I’d taken her word for it, because it had managed to stick with me. I kept pulling back, though, to look at Milo. I think I kept expecting him to tell me to stop. I could hardly blame myself for that. But still, I couldn’t stop smiling at him, even with all of those faces he was making each time he looked back at me. His eyes were narrowed, and his brow stubbornly knit. If I had to describe it, I’d say he looked furious. It might have been discouraging if his mouth wasn’t reacting to mine every time it settled back over his lips.

As my lips sank against him again and my tongue tasted and teased, I moved my fingers away from his face, down over his neck. His hands on my wrists tightened when my palms came over his chest, holding me away for a brief moment before he loosened his grip, and I accepted it as permission to explore. It would have been a shame had he stopped me. I was too enthralled. Besides the kissing, everything about experiencing Milo felt amazing to me. I liked the soft feel of his skin--hot beneath my fingers--and the firmness of his muscles underneath. Even his nipples I could feel harden beneath my fingers as I slid over them, the little beads tickling my palms. The way he took in a breath against my mouth and pulled at my wrists, placing my hands more firmly against his bare chest was only an encouragement; the act sent even more excitement through me, and with his hands still holding my wrists I moved my fingers to his sides to trail downwards softy. Again, Milo’s grip tightened on my wrists as he squirmed against the contact. He seemed ticklish there, but unbothered once my hands met the hem of his jeans. Rather than moving lower, I slid my arms around his lower back and he finally released my wrists, only to clutch my shoulders with an equally strong hold as I pressed into him, deepening the kiss as I pulled him towards me and took a step forward. Only, Milo thwarted me by taking a step back. Even as he returned my kiss, and his arm moved around my shoulders for balance, he managed to leave distance between our bodies as I followed him. And I did follow him. I followed him until his back was against his bedroom door and he had nowhere else to go.

I pulled back from the kiss again to look at him, feeling it was time for another small intermission. He wasn’t glaring at me anymore, per se, the look on his face was almost accusing; but his green eyes had glazed over, and he took me in curiously. I felt his thumb brush over the back of my neck and shuddered against the contact before I leaned forward and sought out his mouth again, closing my eyes as I found that his lips were already parted and his tongue was waiting for me. I heard him sigh as I stepped against him. I think it’s what I’d wanted ever since I’d started kissing him. We were so close to the same height that our bodies matched up nicely as I pressed my chest against his and sank against him, wishing that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a shirt on, but too impatient to remove my own.

This was nothing like kissing girls. It wasn’t like kissing anyone, I imagined, as I moved my fingers gingerly up and down his sides, provoking more light trembling from him as he awkwardly clung to my shoulders and kissed me back. I felt like my whole body was stirring. Even through the pounding of my own heart I swore I could feel his as I breathed heavily through my nostrils and tilted my hips forward against his. In my pants there was a steadily growing erection that nearly jumped to life when I felt a long, hard bulge come up alongside of it through Milo’s jeans. I pressed in harder upon feeling it, practically thrusting at him while my fingers dug into his back. He released a small sound against my mouth that could have sounded like a protest, but even if it was, everything his body did disagreed as he held me where I was and tilted his head, getting a better angle on our kiss; and I was surprised, and pleased when I felt his tongue press its way into my mouth, timidly, before I made a point to welcome it. Milo wasn’t pushing me away. Not at all. That didn’t happen until we heard a door slam somewhere downstairs and he practically shoved me away.

He moved away from the door, getting away from me, and as I turned to look at him, feeling rather frustrated, yet concerned, he just stood there, his breathing as heavy and ragged as I imagined my own was, and he stared at me. His hair was tousled; curiously, I thought, because I’d never had a chance to get to it. But his usual full, sensual mouth was swollen and red from kissing, something I felt rather proud of, actually. He swallowed hard as I regarded him expectantly.

"My dad’s home," he explained, and that made even me edgy.

"Is he going to come up here?" I asked as I reached for my jacket, which had fallen from the doorknob to the floor. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t worried about what Mr. Trust would see upon looking at us.

Milo snorted. "No. He never comes up here."

I cocked my head, and just like that, Milo turned his back on me, moving to lift up the history book he’d left on his bed. I watched him close it and go to his desk, where he shoved it in his backpack, as if anything that was bothering him a moment ago had never existed. I took a step in his direction, confused. My body was still shaking, warm from being so close to him, and I could still taste him. I wasn’t sure if I particularly liked the way that he was suddenly avoiding my eyes as his cold demeanor took over.

"Then what’s the problem?" I asked.

Milo looked up at me, incredulous. Uh-oh. I frowned, suddenly very concerned that he was going to say that I shouldn’t have kissed him, or that he was going to turn this into something bad. I felt like I was begging, even if no words had actually left my mouth. I braced myself, just in case he was about to say something I really didn’t want to hear.

"Didn’t you hear me? My dad’s home!"

I looked at Milo, sighing when he said nothing more. "I thought you said he wasn’t coming up here." I really didn’t get it. As usual, I understood absolutely nothing about him. I was relieved that he wasn’t accusing me of mauling him, but seriously--I mean, come on. I glanced down his body; his nipples were still hard, pointing outwards on his bare chest, and it seemed that his boxers were loose, because his cock was still hard enough to be noticeable, swaying beneath his jeans when he moved. I wondered if he could even feel it. Honestly, I wasn’t even as hard as he was and my whole body felt like it was aching. In fact, if he didn’t look so standoffish as he turned his back on me to zip up his backpack I might have found myself back against his warm body, rubbing on him like a cat in heat.

I took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Perspective. Once again, I needed perspective. I’d just made out with a guy. For the first time. Milo Trust, of all people. Okay. Go me! But now he was doing that... that thing, again. That cold, distant, annoying thing that made me uncomfortable. Because he was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. He kept saying that. I scratched my head, wondering if I should actually start listening to it. At least he hadn’t told me to go away yet, and I supposed it was something to work with. I took an unsteady step towards him. Milo must have heard me, because he rounded, and now he was glaring again. I openly frowned at this, waiting for him to say something insufferable. He was good at that. But instead, he lowered his eyes and sighed.

"I think... you should probably get going now," he said quietly. I was simply surprised that he’d managed to say that without seeming like an asshole. It prompted me to take another step forward.

"Okay. Why don’t you come with me for a while?"

Milo’s green eyes narrowed on me, but it seemed like curiosity more than suspicion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he hadn’t expected the invitation at all, and that, more than anything, was amusing to me. When he didn’t say anything, I tried to smile as I cautiously stepped towards his closet.

"Where are your shirts?" I asked. "In here?"

Milo regarded me skeptically, but gave a small nod. I turned towards his closet, opening it quickly. It seemed better not to let him think about things for too long. I wanted to get him out of there, and hopefully relaxed. Talking probably wouldn’t be a bad thing. In fact, I wanted to make sure we at least talked before things became awkward. If things got awkward, there was no way in hell he’d ever want me to kiss him again.

I found an old, faded, green-hooded sweatshirt, stained with paint, and removed it from its hanger. I was a bit startled when I turned around to find that Milo was right in front of me now. I momentarily gritted my teeth, wishing that he’d stop making those faces--the angry, troubled ones. It made me feel like he was blaming me for something, or at least about to. Only, his cold expressions notwithstanding, he was being quite agreeable as he took the sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. I put my jacket on as I watched him straighten the shirt over his bare chest, and when he looked at me again I raised my eyebrows, still hoping that he wasn’t getting dressed just to tell me to get lost.

"You need shoes," I pointed out, looking down at Milo’s bare feet. He looked down, too, a frown tugging at his mouth.

"I don’t know..." he started, smoothing his dark hair with both hands.

"Is your dad gonna get mad if you go out for a while?" I asked, and Milo looked at me as if it were a stupid question as he shook his head. "So... maybe we can take separate vehicles," I suggested. "That way, you can just leave whenever you want to, if you don’t want me taking you home."

Milo cocked his head at that suggestion, and to my surprise some of his uncertainty faded as he straightened himself. "Your car’s downstairs?"

I smirked. "I didn’t exactly walk here."

Milo stared at me for a long moment. "We’ll take your car," he finally decided, and I simply watched as he turned his back on me again, long enough to grab a pair of socks from his dresser. He had them on rather quickly, and practically stepped into his shoes. He nodded for me to follow as he took the lead out of his bedroom, turning off the light in the process, leaving the hallway looking even darker than usual. I followed behind him quickly, matching his pace and wondering if I’d ever get used to these mood swings he seemed to be prone to. I wondered if I wanted to get used to them. I silently laughed to myself, shaking my head as I thought of Caleb and Joe, and all of their complaints about how they’d never truly understand women. Women were easy, I decided. If they wanted a challenge, they could try seducing Milo Trust sometime. When he wasn’t being impossible, he was just plain confusing me. Like, when he shouted words beyond my comprehension to Juanita rather than his dad as he opened the front door, and then led the way to my car without waiting for a response. He was in the passenger seat, buckled up, and I was backing out of the driveway and squinting against the sun before it ever occurred to him to ask where we were going.

"I thought we could go somewhere and talk," I told him.

"But where?" he asked. "I don’t want to go to your house."

I glanced over at him, and tried not to appear too disappointed. "Okay."

"And, if we’re going to talk it has to be somewhere where no one from school is going to see us," he said warningly. His tone was cold, but I decided to be happy that he was at least open to the idea of talking.

"You’re bossy," I remarked, and Milo responded by looking out his window, obviously willing to ignore me.

I sighed, wondering if it had occurred to him that we could simply talk in the car. Not that I didn’t want to go somewhere. In all honesty, I’d planned to take him back to my house. I was hoping that I could have gotten him to relax there. I guess my intentions weren’t really that noble, because I’d also hoped that there, we could get back to kissing. However, I could settle for simply getting him out of his house. With me. I had no idea where to go now, though. Not with his stupid rules.

"Why is it a big deal if someone from school sees us together?" I decided to ask ten minutes later as I headed towards the hill. I wasn’t taking him back to my place. He’d asked me not to. "You think they’re going to look at us and know we’re on a date?"

"This is not a date," Milo responded, indignant.

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes. "You wouldn’t want to give me the impression that you’re easy." Milo was still glaring when I looked over at him. I sighed, and tried to smile. "I think I know where we can go for a while, but I can’t promise no one from school will be there. Are you up for an early dinner? I’m kind of hungry."

Milo considered, and then reluctantly nodded, falling silent for the rest of the drive. I wished that I knew what he was thinking, and why he saw fit to appear agitated every time we were together outside of class. I guess maybe that it was because he didn’t want to be together outside of class. It’s not like he hadn’t let me know that. But still, he was there with me now. By choice. And maybe I’d initiated that kiss back at his house, but I hadn’t been the only one contributing to it. I just didn’t understand Milo Trust.

.........................................................

"I don’t understand you."

Milo looked up at me, seemingly startled as he sat across the small wooden table meant to seat two, with his left cheek looking swollen as he chewed a rather large bite of his cheeseburger. We were in a small restaurant, not far from the taco stand and A Woman’s World clothing store, where Milo and I’d had our first community service assignment together. I went there with my brother sometimes, when he was waiting for Leanna to get off work. It always seemed like a good place to go, since it was so close to the dance studio. Besides, as far as greasy hamburgers went, this place had the best. It was always hard to find a clean table in the small establishment with a worn, amber-colored linoleum floor and dusty old rodeo pictures hanging on the walls; but if you could get past the fact that the cook in the back always had Band-aids on his fingers, the food wasn’t that bad. Plus, the way that the place was designed suited our purposes. The dining room was divided into sections, and while the place wasn’t completely empty, we had a suitable amount of privacy at our table, which was up against a wall that divided our section from the other four.

"I don’t understand you," Milo retorted, and then I watched him take another healthy bite of his food. I’d hardly done anything more than pick at my fries, I’d been so busy watching him. Under the dim light, he’d practically been inhaling his meal. It was interesting, considering the fact that he’d refused to eat anything when we first walked into the place. Like any reasonable person, he’d been rather disgusted by it. But I’d ordered for both of us, insisting that he should at least try the food. He did, and hadn’t stopped eating since. He was almost finished with his cheeseburger, and I had a feeling that he’d be reaching for mine next.

"I’m serious," I insisted, leaning back in my uncomfortable wooden chair. "You... confuse me. I mean, back at your house..." I paused when he met my eyes, studying me expectantly. "Did that even mean anything to you?" I asked pointedly, deciding that asking outright might clear the air.

I watched, refusing to look away from him as Milo lowered his eyes and took an obnoxiously long time to swallow the food in his mouth before he washed it down with a long sip of soda through a straw. He licked his lips, and as he reached for one of the pink napkins on the table, he spoke so softly that I hardly heard him. "It was kinda... nice."

I straightened a little, forcing a rather ridiculous smile off of my face. "Yeah?"

He glanced up at me, a small hint of a smile appearing at the left corner of his mouth before he shoved a french fry between his teeth, obviously not wanting to repeat himself.

"So what does that mean?" I asked. "I mean... could we do it again?"

Milo frowned at that, letting out a breath. "Look, I..."

"You kinda like me," I provided for him, and he met my eyes, wearing another stubborn expression.

"It doesn’t really matter, though."

"Why not?" I demanded. It came out a little harsher than I intended it to, but at least it earned more than a scowl from Milo as he sat back in his seat and looked more disturbed than annoyed.

"I already told you why. I could never tell..."

"And how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to tell anyone?" I responded.

"They could still find out."

"Not if we’re careful. Milo, even if we hung out sometime, no one would even suspect."

"If you were anyone else, maybe."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone thinks we’re supposed to hate each other. I see how that girl from class looks at us every time you start talking to me."

"Haily? She’s probably curious, but she doesn’t think I hate you. She was there when I bought that painting, remember? And she totally knows I’m into your work."

"I saw the look on Caleb’s face today, too."

"Also curious. Look, Caleb doesn’t really like anyone, okay? He knows that I like people he doesn’t. It happens all the time. Seriously. You should have seen how long it took just to get him to acknowledge Joe when he first started hanging out with us. I don’t tell my friends I’m gay; but just so you know, I’ve always been honest with them when it comes to the fact that I don’t have a problem with you. I talk to people all the time. They’re not gonna think anything’s up if I start talking to you."

"Maybe my friends are different," Milo said quietly.

"Hmm... I don’t know who you hang out with at school, but the only one I could see having a problem with you talking to me is Jame," I replied. And that was true. I really didn’t have any enemies. Hell, Jame wasn’t even mine, he was Caleb’s. He’d just been doing his best to make me his enemy recently. "But just because he doesn’t like you talking to me doesn’t mean he’s going to think you’re gay. Fuck. Most people around here wouldn’t even think it. They probably think a queer is something that secretly wears women’s underthingies and plays with a secret Barbie stash. I don’t think we have anything to worry about."

Milo looked down at his food and lifted another fry. He was silent for very long moments, and at least appeared to be thinking about what I’d said. I just wished that he didn’t looks so troubled. Maybe he was thinking too much, I decided. A distraction was in order. Besides, while Milo was busy thinking about whether or not he and I should hang out, it was already happening. Maybe if I went about this the right way, it could happen again.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, resting an elbow on the table. He looked up again. "How did you and Jame start hanging out, anyway?"

Milo shrugged. "My dad hosts dinners sometimes for people he does business with, and they bring their families. Last year Jame was at one and started hanging around me and my friends. One of them had some shit and we figured he just wanted to get high, but afterwards he didn’t go away. The dinner was at my house, so he showed up a few times after the party..." Milo stirred his drink with his straw, looking thoughtful. "I thought he was really annoying at first. I mean... a lot of people just stick around because of who my dad is. I sorta thought he was trying to hang around because he wanted me to introduce him to some girls or something--but he turned out okay. He didn’t really care about hanging out with my friends, or at my house. He likes to watch me paint... He’s a really good friend. He’s the one who talked me into switching schools. I was getting kinda tired of mine, and wanted a change."

I thought on this for a second. I guess maybe Assface was good for something, after all.

"Why do you guys give him such a hard time, anyway?" Milo suddenly asked, and I met his inquisitive green eyes, a little taken off guard by the question.

"Hey," I said defensively. "I didn’t really even have a problem with him until he started one with me. The guy doesn’t quit; and, he seriously doesn’t get any points for harassing Haily. Hey, does he actually like her, or does he just like to start shit?"

Milo actually smiled at that. "I really don’t know," he replied. "But I mean, come on--he doesn’t mean anything. Plus, if you guys are the ones who started calling him Assface, you deserve anything he comes up with."

"That was Caleb," I said. I wasn’t ratting out my friend. No, Caleb would have admitted to that one, had he been there.

"Well, your friend Caleb sounds like a prick."

I frowned at that. Milo Trust might have been hot, and officially the only guy I’d ever kissed, but instincts provoked me to stick up for my best friend. "Caleb is not a prick... actually, he can be, but it’s not just his fault, what goes on with Jame. They’ve always hated each other. Shit, I can’t even remember exactly what it was about. Just... when we were younger Caleb was a little... chunky, I guess. Not fat. He’s always been big, but before he started going to the gym he was a little sensitive about his weight. Jame started calling him lardo one year, so Caleb called him Assface. Lardo didn’t stick, Assface did."

"Okay," Milo said slowly. "But... don’t you think it’s time to quit?"

I smirked at that. "I’ll tell you what; I’ll stop calling him Assface if he stops acting like one."

Milo narrowed his eyes on me. "How mature of you... but I guess it’s fair enough." He turned serious then. "Still... I do kinda hate that you call him that."

"So I’ll try not to around you," I replied, and Milo seemed somewhat surprised by that, but gave an approving nod. I took a drink of my soda, and then smiled at him, deciding that maybe it was time for a subject change. "Are you working on anything new? With your paintings, I mean?"

Milo lifted his cheeseburger again, and after taking a bite he started to explain to me that he didn’t really have as much time for painting as he would have liked to have. But he did sketch a lot, being in a new school with plenty of new faces. I made a point not to ask him if my face was still among those, not really wanting to remind him of a certain painting; and as he finished his meal and I finally ate mine I started to feel at ease with him. It was kind of like we were in class, with more freedom. I even got him to smile a few more times as we talked about art and occasionally, our friends. Apparently, the two guys who I’d seen at Hangman with Milo were two of his good friends--Jerry, and the other was Jonathan. They both lived close to Milo, and were some of the only people who he was making any sort of effort to stay in touch with from his old school. It seemed that he was still invited to all the Stratfort parties, but Jonathan and Jerry were the only two guys he’d have over to his house on weekends--along with Assface, of course. I found it curious that he didn’t try to keep in touch with anyone else. But then, if it were me, I’d probably be looking to keep in touch with everyone I could think of from my own school, and make plenty of friends at a new one. Maybe Milo was the son of Thompson Trust, but he most definitely wasn’t the socialite that his dad was. In fact, I was sort of getting the impression that he was a loner. It was strange, because I really wasn’t attracted to loners--as friends, or otherwise. I liked outgoing people. But with Milo... it just made me more interested in him. It had me wanting to get to know him in ways that he wouldn’t allow most people to do. I hoped that eventually, he’d let me.

I’m not sure how I managed it, but by the time we were finished eating, Milo was relaxed enough to actually accept an invitation to my house. Of course, he stressed that he couldn’t stay long, and that he really only wanted to see the field--which didn’t surprise me. But, I’d take what I could get where he was concerned.

Being the middle of October, the sunsets were coming sooner, and as we headed up the hill around five thirty, the sky was orange and streaked with shades of yellow and crimson above us. It gave the illusion of a warm atmosphere, but it was a deceiving one since the air was cold enough to bite at our skin. I had my coat, but unsure of whether or not Milo was warm enough in his sweatshirt, I made sure that the heat was running in the car.

My parents were both home when we got to my house. It didn’t really surprise me that Milo seemed much more at ease with them than he’d been with Chad and Leanna. My parents didn’t get nosy in front of company. They’d wait until after he left for that. It sure didn’t stop my mom from getting embarrassing, though. She’d known who Milo was before I’d even introduced him because he looked so much like his father. She gushed all over him, and much to my dad’s chagrin, told Milo that he was just as handsome as Mr. Trust was. Milo blushed, but he got over it, just like my dad got over my mom’s comments as soon as she kissed his nose, right beneath his glasses. Then, it was my dad doing the blushing.

It was cold, but Milo and I stayed mostly outside on the deck. I’d offered him one of my extra coats, but he’d refused, so I was glad when my mom brought out hot chocolate. He could at least warm his hands on the mug that way. As we watched the sun set, Milo took in the field as I tried to explain that it was much prettier during the summer. He’d insisted that it was fine the way it was. It wasn’t hard to agree with him. Though, when he mentioned that he’d kill for a view like we had out his back door I had to laugh as I pointed out the incredible view he had from his bedroom window. Milo was a little surprised when the goat came to us and tried to eat the hood of his sweatshirt, but more amused than anything else. He even helped me feed it some carrots and a tomato from the kitchen, along with the regular mix that my dad kept in the garage. It was almost dark by the time that Milo said he needed to get home. Unfortunately, it was right before I planned to ask him if he wanted to go down to my room.

The drive back to Stratfort Ranch was a silent one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t really a comfortable one, either. I wasn’t sure what Milo was thinking about, but he’d gone back to staring out his window. If he looked in my direction at all, I didn’t see it. And, I would have seen it. I couldn’t quite figure out if it was more important to focus on Milo, or the road.

That kiss was on my mind again. It was hard not to think about it, and despite Milo acting like it hadn’t even happened, my heart rate was probably going up just remembering it. I licked my lips, glancing over at Milo as he stared out the window into the dark. I could practically feel his mouth on mine. It had been a good kiss. Or, a series of several good kisses. He’d said it was nice. I supposed that I could work with that. Only, Milo hadn’t really given me any indication that it was going to happen again. He certainly didn’t when I dropped him off in front of his house. He was practically opening the door before I came to a complete stop. He did say he’d see me tomorrow, though. In class.

It was Caleb who helped me decide that I was going to try to see Milo before parenting class, whether or not he liked it. Actually, the idea to track Milo down before school hit me when Caleb called me on Thursday night to tell me about his new niece, who apparently, was adorable and blonde, but still had no name. Caleb was going to skip school on Friday because Julie was going to be taking the baby home, and the only way his parents would allow him to do it was if he could get someone to pick up his homework for him. That someone was me. I called Haily, and since her mom agreed to drive her and Joe to school in the morning, I was free to get there early to pick up Caleb’s homework, and look around for Milo.

There was no guarantee that he was going to be at school early. The way I’d found him sitting in front of those lockers before had given me the idea. Once I made rounds to every one of Caleb’s classes, that’s the first place I checked. Milo wasn’t there, but as I stared at the purple locker that Milo had been leaning against, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was his, or if he’d just decided that it was a good place to sit.

I found out about twenty minutes later. I’d taken a quick walk around the school, and rather than finding Milo, I found Haily and Joe. We had breakfast together and agreed that at lunch we’d take a quick trip down to the hospital to see if we could see Caleb’s new niece. It was about three minutes before the first bell when we separated. But, instead of going to my first class, I returned to that locker, just in time to see Milo Trust close it, and disappear down the hall with Jame Graham. I didn’t try going after Milo then. I was too focused on the locker as I smiled to myself and removed a piece of notebook paper from my backpack. With a blue pen I hesitated for a moment, and then wrote my note on the paper. I didn’t sign it. Milo would know who it was from as soon as he read the words, Am I still on your list?

........................................

School wasn’t quite as entertaining without Caleb around, I decided. For a Friday, it was a pretty boring day, actually. At lunch, Haily, Joe and I did show up at the hospital with flowers for Julie. Caleb had run out with his parents, but Julie’s husband Mike did let us see the baby. She was sleeping at the time, and Caleb was right--she was cute. We spent a good fifteen minutes with her parents, suggesting names, before we had to get back to school. I was almost late to gym when I took the time to stop at my locker so I could relieve myself from some books; but I was glad I did as soon as a familiar piece of notebook paper fell at my feet upon opening the metal door. I dropped my backpack and lifted the paper, unfolding it to see that it was the very note that I’d left in Milo’s locker that morning. Only, below my writing there was another note in red ink. You rank about number four. Don’t get too excited. New guy in chemistry. You might be demoted.

I chuckled to myself, wondering how the hell Milo had figured out where my locker was, and wishing that I had time to get the note back into his. Since I didn’t, I slipped the note into my pocket instead, and headed for class. I’d see Milo soon enough, anyway. After sweating my ass off running laps around the track because Coach Don was holding a meeting in the gymnasium we’d been using for basketball, I took a quick shower and showed up for parenting class with wet hair. At least they weren’t running the air conditioner in the trailer anymore.

It was a good class. Haily stopped me at her table to double-check that I could give her and Joe a ride home; and as soon as I turned towards mine, I was met with a surprise. Milo Trust smiled at me. It was a small, shy smile, but still a smile, and still aimed at me, just before he went back to talking to Tim. I caught myself staring at him for a few moments, watching as he tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear. His emerald eyes took me in sidelong as he laughed at something Tim said.

On Mrs. Bates’s order, I moved around the table, taking my seat next to Milo as I greeted Tim. I usually always greeted Tim first. But when Mrs. Bates told us to get out our books my focus was more on Milo. When I opened my backpack, I was sure to extend my elbow, just to touch his arm; and as class got started I kept sliding my foot up against his. It was only for brief moments at a time, but Milo noticed what I was doing. He didn’t say anything, though. He did little more than glance at my behavior. But, a few times I swore his lips curled up into a smile. I’d never have pointed this out to him, though. He’d probably insist that it was my imagination.

I talked to him a few times. Neither of us mentioned the notes in our lockers, or what had happened between us the night before. I blamed it on the awkwardness of adolescence, but I sure wanted to bring it up. I most definitely wanted to ask him if I could see him outside of class again, since it was Friday and there was a whole weekend to make plans for. But, I didn’t. Which was strange, because generally when I wanted something, I had a bad habit of blurting it out. And, I wanted Milo to come over again. Or, I wanted to go see him. It didn’t really matter which. Too bad I already knew what Milo would say if I asked him. I had a feeling that he thought I was too pushy. I preferred to think of myself as eager. If I was pushy, I wouldn’t have decided to back off some, which, I reluctantly did.

But not asking Milo to come over, or mentioning anything about the night before, certainly sparked an interesting reaction from him. On most days, while I was trying to get Milo to talk to me, he was packing up his things and rushing off, leaving me to wonder about him. This time, he kept looking at me as I packed up my backpack, and I noticed that he was moving extra slow in gathering his own things. He seemed curious about something. Almost expectant. I couldn’t really help smiling as I stood up, threw my bag over my shoulder, and faced him.

"I’ll see you Monday," I said.

Milo narrowed his eyes, went back to packing up his things, and nodded. I was just turning to meet Haily when I heard his voice following me.

"Here’s your pen back."

"You can keep it," I replied, and a glance back told me that Milo was still in his seat, staring at the pen in his hand.

"Plans this weekend?" he suddenly asked, catching me off guard. Haily was leaving her desk and coming towards me, but I turned around and smiled at Milo anyway, giving a small shrug.

"I’m might try to go see Caleb. If it’s warm enough we’ll be at Hangman. I’ll probably be at home most of the time, though." I stopped there, and let Milo study me for a moment before he zipped up his backpack. There seemed to be something on his mind. "What about you?" I asked.

"My dad’s having an engagement party."

"Oh. You’re going?"

"Haveta, I guess," he replied, and then looked up sheepishly. "I’m the best man."

"Ah, so duty calls and all that," I remarked, and than after a moment of careful consideration, "Well, if you get bored or anything..."

"Ready to go?"

I felt an arm loop through mine and turned to face Haily, who couldn’t seem to figure out if she wanted to regard me expectantly or Milo suspiciously. I frowned at that, and the way that Milo was suddenly in a hurry to leave. He stood up, pulling his backpack over his shoulders as he did so.

"Um, yeah," I said to Haily, trying not to frown too hard when Milo suddenly passed us without another word. "Hey!" I called after him, and he paused at the door to glance back at me. "I’ll see you later."

I ignored the way that Haily was staring at me and focused on Milo’s shy nod, just before he moved through the door, the wind catching his hair on his way out.

.................................................

I tilted my head, trying to figure out where the muscle-bound dark-haired guy ended and the little blond beneath him began. Huh. Maybe it was just the camera angle that was confusing me. I guess it didn’t matter, though. There was at least one nice ass to look at, high, and tight, and rounded. I traced the curve of it with my index finger, idly wondering what Milo’s ass would look like without all of those clothes covering it as I pressed my hips into my mattress against the stirring in my groin.

It had been a long time since I’d had nothing better to do on a Friday night than lay around in my room looking at porn that my brother gave me for my birthday. Caleb was busy with his family, Joe didn’t feel like doing anything after his community service and Haily... well, Haily was available, but I told her that I had things I needed to do at home. For a while now, I realized, I hadn’t really hung out with Haily that much, just the two of us. Either Joe, or Caleb were always there. It was alarming to realize that I wasn’t exactly comfortable spending time with her alone. I guess that’s because she’d been making it more obvious that she had feelings for me, and I wasn’t quite ready to deal with that, let alone place myself in a situation where I might have to. It bothered me, though. It wasn’t like me to be uncomfortable around anyone, let alone one of my best friends.

I shifted on my bed as I flipped to the next page in the magazine. It was a nice open wide shot. I found myself stretching my jaw, mimicking the redhead in the photo who looked rather eager to take in the long, dark-headed cock in front of his face, even if his tongue seemed shy about moving out of his mouth to touch it. If it were me, I decidedly wouldn’t be shy. These magazines that Chad got me every once in a while were the only form of education I had when it came to gay sex. I’d found a few things on the internet, but I really did enjoy the magazines better; it was like an illustrated textbook, and I felt fully prepared to take my final exam. Hanging around Caleb all the time left me feeling like the only one in the world who wasn’t getting any.

The soft knock on my door distracted me from the page and I closed the magazine, sliding it beneath my white bedspread before I reached for the sketchbook I’d left on the floor. I started on my most recent drawing, right where I’d left off, adding wavy hair to Caleb’s oversized head. I’d made him caricature style, holding his new baby cousin.

"Come in," I called, and glanced up as my mom entered carrying a plastic bag, which had a pleasant odor emanating from it. "Hi, Mom."

She smiled at me, throwing her curtain of red hair over her shoulder as she leaned down to kiss the top of my head and eye my drawing.

"Now that’s adorable," she commented, placing the bag down next to me.

"I’m gonna give it to Caleb, I think," I replied, putting my pencil down to reach for the bag.

"We brought you chicken," my mother informed me. I’d been invited to dinner with her and my dad, but I hadn’t really been hungry at the time. "Is that okay?"

"Smells great," I replied.

"Make sure you remember to bring leftovers up to the kitchen. You don’t need any science projects growing down here."

"I will," I assured her.

"Are you planning to go out tonight?" she asked curiously. "It’s late. Usually you’re out of the house by now."

"I’m staying in. Everyone’s kinda busy, and... I dunno. I don’t really feel like doing anything."

"Oh. Okay. It’s Friday."

"I know," I replied, turning my head to smile at her, hoping that she’d realize that there really was nothing to be worried about.

"Don’t you want to invite anyone over? Maybe Milo. He was nice."

I smirked at that. "He’d have to want to come over. I’m fine, Mom, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, but instead of walking away, she continued to look at me. I raised an expectant eyebrow. "Are you and Milo Trust friends?" she finally asked.

I made a face. "It’s hard to tell at this point," I said honestly.

"Okay... well, maybe invite him over for dinner sometime."

"I’ll do that," I replied. I knew she was curious, but I really didn’t feel like explaining the complexities of how Milo and I interacted to her. She seemed to understand, because she released an exasperated sigh and smoothed back my hair before she finally went.

"Well, your father and I are upstairs. We might be old, but we’re not boring. Come join us if you feel up for it."

I smiled. "Thanks, Mama."

I waited for her to close the door behind herself, and I stared at it for a long moment before I dropped my sketchbook back on the floor. I reached for my magazine, finding the page I was on, and then looked between it and the food bag for several long moments of personal debate. Finally, I lifted the bag, placed it carefully on the floor, and then rolled over onto my back, taking the magazine with me as I reached to unzip my black jeans. If I was going to eat, I figured that there wasn’t any harm in at least working up an appetite first.

.......................................

Saturday was a very slow day. I did go see Caleb, and became amused to find that he was doing more mothering for his new niece than Julie was. They’d decided to name the baby Clair, but as far as Caleb was concerned, the choice wasn’t set in stone until they put it on the birth certificate, and little Clair’s parents were being rather indecisive.

I pulled Caleb away long enough to get him to go down to Hangman with me, along with Haily, and Joe, who was taking a day off from going down to the police station. It wasn’t a very long trip, though. Hangman was a miserable place to be when it was windy, especially with all the sand. I hadn’t even sat down while we were there and by the time I got home, I was covered in it. I was also oddly tired. I hadn’t done much to exert myself throughout the day, but that didn’t stop me from taking a nap before dinner on Saturday--one that lasted until six thirty on Sunday morning. I guess I couldn’t complain about not getting enough sleep.

At least on Sunday Caleb finally took a break from Julie and her new family. It seemed that his sister was on his nerves once again, and he was desperate enough to go to church with my family, just to get away. Caleb only ever attended church when he went with us. Usually he thought it was boring. This particular Sunday, though, he thought it was particularly amusing when Grannie Tenny came down with a rather disruptive case of gas and my dad volunteered the two of us to take her for a walk throughout half the service.

It was a nice morning; sunny, but cool. It was light-jacket weather. Tenny was in her wheelchair, and since being behind her was currently a dangerous thing, Caleb and I took turns pushing her on the sidewalk, around the block where the church was. We were downtown, and even walking around the block I felt like we were boxed in by tall buildings. But, it wasn’t unpeaceful. Most streets were empty, the tall brick courthouse was vacant and the copper-looking bell that hung above the church looked newly polished. It might have been late in the season, but the grass surrounding the church was freshly watered and puddles were seeping into cracks in the sidewalk as we walked.

While Granny Tenny enjoyed being outside, I confided in Caleb, about how I was afraid to be alone with Haily. At least he was able to take it seriously. Actually, when Caleb wasn’t trying to help me get laid, he was more than happy to help me with my other problems. It seemed that he had a few delusions that Haily and I would make a perfect couple, but once I explained that I really didn’t feel that way about her, he agreed that she and I shouldn’t get together, on the grounds that he’d be obligated to kick my ass if I hurt her. Caleb did not want to have to kick my ass. Unfortunately, his suggestions weren’t exactly helpful. He was convinced that the only way to get Haily off my case was to start dating other girls--which he thought I should do more of, anyway. I had to change the subject when he became excited over the prospect of hooking me up with one of Rebecca Spade’s friends.

After church, while Chad and Leanna volunteered to go with my parents to drop Granny Tenny and Mr. Hoover back off at the retirement home, Caleb and I went to pick up Joe, and the three of us went to shoot a game of pool at a place near Velda’s cafÉ. Haily couldn’t come. It seemed that she was having trouble with her mom. Mrs. Geld had discovered that Haily had gone to buy a dress for homecoming, and was offended that Haily hadn’t asked her along. Given that Haily never shopped for dresses, this was a big deal, and the only way she knew how to fix it was to say that the dress she already got didn’t fit her right and beg for her mom’s help in finding a new one, now that homecoming was a week away. I really did feel sorry for Haily. Sorry enough to drop by her house after Caleb and I had dropped Joe back off at home, just so I could bring her some of the nachos from Velda’s that she liked so much. Caleb had slapped the back of my head when I did it, ranting about how bearing gifts of food was not the best way to convince a girl that I wasn’t interested in her. He was probably right.

Caleb and I hung out at my place for the rest of the afternoon, and while he was there he made me finish the caricature that I’d drawn of him and Clair. He wanted to show his parents when he got home. But that wasn’t going to happen relatively soon because my mom delayed his departure when she invited him over for dinner. We had minestrone and homemade meatballs as Caleb told my parents all about the new baby. He was convinced that she was smiling at him already, and didn’t care if anyone said otherwise.

We’d just finished eating, and I’d volunteered to help my mom with the dishes. But, when Caleb announced that he needed to get home and finish his homework before school started tomorrow, my dad had offered to help my mom, so I could walk Caleb out. We were almost to the door, chatting about whether or not Caleb should skip third period and take an extra long lunch, when the doorbell echoed through the house. We glanced at each other.

"If that’s Haily, you’re not leaving," I warned him. "I love her, but until this gets sorted out, you can’t leave me alone with her."

Caleb shook his head in mock irritation. "You’re the only guy I know who’d want to run away from a girl trying to get in your pants. What’s with that? Pathetic."

I backhanded his arm, not knowing why I bothered. Caleb was muscled there, even when he wasn’t flexing, and the impact always hurt me more than it did him. "Just remember that girl is Haily," I reminded him as we reached the door together. "She’d get hurt and you’d have to kick my ass."

Caleb rolled his eyes at me as I opened the front door, probably about ready to make a smartass remark. But, as we focused on the figure standing beneath the porch light, Caleb’s jaw snapped shut, his eyes narrowed, and he stared while I looked out the door, startled as uncertain emerald eyes looked back at me.

I think I stared for a whole minute before I convinced myself that it was, in fact, Milo Trust standing there. He just looked… different. He wore a black sportcoat, which matched his tidy black pants, over a smooth, dark dress shirt. His hair, which usually fell around his face to frame it messily and perfectly, was rather combed back neatly in a way that I didn’t really care for. I suppose he looked a little like Mr. Trust had, the first time I’d seen him. Even his shoes shined. But, Mr. Trust hadn’t looked as nervous as Milo did now. I wasn’t sure what he was doing at my house, but given his wardrobe I guessed that he’d come from his father’s engagement party. The way his eyes glanced uncertainly towards Caleb, who was glaring at him, told me that Milo was regretting his decision to come over here, despite what had provoked him to do it in the first place. When Milo looked at me again, some of his timid demeanor faded and he developed one of his more determined glares. I thought he was going to say something, but instead, he was suddenly shaking his head and turning away from us. Before I could even think about it, I reached out, grabbing his wrist and holding on every bit as tightly as he had mine when I’d been kissing him a few days ago.

"Don’t!" I practically snapped, surprising Caleb, and causing Milo to turn back around. I forced myself to calm my tone, and tried to sound casual as I let go of my unexpected guest. "What’s your hurry?... Uh, Caleb, you remember Milo, right?"

I looked at my best friend. His chestnut eyes had gone from looking warily at Milo, to looking skeptically at me.

"Yeah, so?"

I frowned at Caleb. "So, I invited him over here," I lied. "I just sorta forgot." I glanced at Milo, who was regarding me as curiously as Caleb was. "I thought you’d be here earlier," I told Milo, hoping that he’d figure out that I was trying to help. It took a while, but he managed a shrug.

"Yeah... okay..." Caleb sounded fed up as he faced me again, looking very much like he would like an explanation for this atrocity. It was that look that had me glaring right back at Caleb, annoyed that I felt I had to explain myself to him. If Milo had been almost anyone else, Caleb wouldn’t have blinked twice at the situation. Maybe that’s what bothered me.

"Caleb was on his way out," I finally said to Milo. "Um, if you wanna go in, I’ll be there in a sec."

Milo looked unsure again as I took Caleb’s arm and cleared the path through the door, all the while looking at Milo expectantly until he reluctantly stepped into my house.

"I changed my mind," Caleb said, glancing over his shoulder as I dropped his arm and we walked towards his jeep. "Fuck the homework. I’ll stay."

"Dude, what’s your problem?" I demanded.

Caleb, incredulous, ran a rough hand through the waves on his head, and then abruptly pointed towards my front door, as if that explained everything.

"You invited him over?"

"Yes."

"So you’re hanging out with him now?"

I frowned. "Yeah, so?"

"Assface..."

"Isn’t here," I cut him off. "That’s Milo, and he’s actually pretty cool. So knock it off, okay?" I wasn’t going to play this off as no big deal. Not with Caleb. I was going to be as honest as I could. If I got my way, I’d be hanging out with Milo a lot more. My friends were going to see part of that, and they were going to have to deal with it. I kept telling Milo that it wouldn’t be a problem if people saw us as friends, and I was determined to prove that to him.

"I’m sorry," Caleb responded, yet there was more sarcasm than regret in his voice. "You’re telling me that guy’s your friend?"

I smirked. "What? Are you jealous?"

Caleb turned a glare on me, but it wasn’t one of his more threatening expressions.

"Nels..." He stopped and shook his head, but it was followed by a slight smile as he turned back towards his jeep and opened the black vehicle’s driver’s-side door. "I think the guy’s a prick," he informed me, glancing back over his shoulder.

I snorted. "You think everyone’s a prick."

"Whatever." Caleb suddenly turned, facing me pointedly. I wasn’t quite prepared for the concerned expression that masked his face. Almost panicked, like he was seriously worried that I’d just betrayed him somehow. "Dude, you’re not hanging out with Assface, too, right?"

I wasn’t sure if it was the look of horror on Caleb’s face, or how ridiculous that question seemed to me that caused me to laugh out loud. "What do you think?" I responded dryly, and Caleb actually released a sigh of relief.

"Okay... see you tomorrow?"

I nodded. "If you wake up early enough come to the bakery. I wanna stop for breakfast."

"Fine," Caleb responded, trying hard to sound like this was a chore for him. "But there better be some of those damn blueberry muffins around this time."

I stepped back, waving as he climbed into his jeep and left. I sighed. Caleb wasn’t going to make a bigger deal out of Milo showing up than he already had. If it had been any other guy, I really don’t think he would have cared, but Milo was Jame Graham’s friend, and in Caleb’s opinion, anyone who could stand Assface obviously had something wrong with them. Unfortunately, as I headed back to the house, I had a feeling that Milo was going to make this into a bigger deal than it really was. And that sucked ass, because somehow, he’d found it in his heart to show up at my house, and I really didn’t want to ruin that because he was insecure about how people saw us.

The front door was still open, and the porch light still bright, leading me to it. But I couldn’t see Milo there. I glanced over to where he’d parked his car behind mine, in front of the garage. At least he hadn’t snuck off yet. I decided that he must have moved further into the house. Either that, or my mom had managed to ambush him. The thought alone had me moving faster.

"Milo?" I called, as soon as I pushed the door further open and then closed it behind me. The house was warm, and still carried the aroma of our supper, reminding my belly how full it was.

I moved down the hall, with no response from Milo. I’d completely passed the living room before I abruptly turned back and looked inside. Milo was standing there in front of the far wall, staring almost blankly at the many family photographs hanging on it. I doubted that he even realized what he was looking at, since it was a simply photo of my Grandma Tenny, standing behind a thanksgiving turkey. It had been taken before her stroke.

"Hey," I said softly. My voice made him flinch more than jump as he abruptly turned to face me. He was glaring again. He was good at glaring. But, he seemed to have as many glares as normal people had smiles. This one seemed more upset than cold. I raised my brow in surprise when he suddenly pulled up a dark jacket sleeve to look at his watch.

"I have to go," he announced, as if he’d been there all day and now had somewhere else to be. He headed towards me, but didn’t make it out of the living room when I stepped in front of him, only to be met with his more challenging glare.

"Caleb’s fine," I informed him. "You shouldn’t worry about that."

He was unconvinced. At least, he looked unconvinced. I smiled at him.

"Come here," I beckoned as I headed out of the living room, and then continued to look over my shoulder to make sure Milo was with me as he followed me through the house. He had his hands in his pockets and his eyes downcast. I wondered what I could say to make him feel better. My guess was that there was nothing. He wasn’t happy that one of my friends had caught him here, and the only way he was going to get over it, was to see that tomorrow, no one would notice the difference. But as I watched him, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe there was something else wrong. It occurred to me that if it was just Caleb, he would have ranted at me. Hell, he would have put up more of a fight to get out of my house. There was definitely something going on. Maybe whatever it was, was the reason why he showed up in the first place. Because while Milo was always invited as far as I was concerned, I hadn’t actually asked him to come over. I doubted that he would have without a reason.

"Gross, mom!" I groaned, as soon as we’d reached the kitchen. I’d walked in first to find my mom on the other side of the round counter with my father. They were sharing a bowl of chocolate ice cream and I’d just watched as my mom licked a smudge of it off my dad’s face. It was nice they were in love and all, but sometimes the mushiness could get embarrassing.

My mom giggled as she looked across the kitchen at me. My dad just rolled his eyes behind his glasses and took over the spoon they were using, obviously caring more about the ice cream than he did about whether or not he was embarrassing his son. That’s why my mom noticed Milo standing shyly behind me, first. She looked surprised, but then smiled.

"Hi, Milo, I didn’t realize you were coming over."

"Uh... I wasn’t... I mean, I just...I hope that’s okay." Milo fumbled for words, obviously having no notebook excuse this time.

"Of course it’s okay," my dad spoke up, winking at me in a way that had me blushing and glaring at him.

"Are you guys going to come help us eat this?" my mom asked as she fished three more bowls out of the cabinet to the left of the sink and lifted the lid off the ice cream carton. Milo quickly started to shake his head, and wasn’t prepared when I grabbed his wrist long enough to pull him towards the counter.

"Sounds good, Mom," I said, and she smiled at us. She’d already started to scoop the ice cream into the bowls, glancing at Milo as he stood uncomfortably next to me.

"You’re all dressed up," my dad commented, looking at our guest.

"You look very nice," my mom added.

Milo blushed, and I rolled my eyes. "He just came from his dad’s engagement party," I explained, and Milo seemed surprised that I remembered. "Leave him alone."

My mom made a point to look offended. "Well he does look nice! Very handsome, Milo."

I grinned at Milo. There was a pink flush cast over his cheekbones and he wasn’t meeting any eyes around the room, but I swore there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "It’s not fair," I remarked. "She never says anything like that to me."

My mom gasped. "I do all the time!"

"And here I thought I was special," Milo remarked, and we all looked at him, surprised. I was quick to laugh, though, mostly at the look on my mom’s face. It was nice that Milo was at least making an attempt to joke around with us. It was a good sign that he was relaxing.

"You’re both awful," my mom informed us, and my dad laughed when I turned my best puppy-eyes at her. My mom groaned, sliding two bowls of ice cream across the counter. "You get out of here before I decide that you should wear it, instead of eat it," she warned. I laughed and blew her a kiss.

"Thanks, Mom."

I lifted both servings of ice cream and nodded to Milo, who was smiling, if only faintly. He walked with me as my parents continued to feed each other ice cream, fawning over each other in a rather disgusting manner. When we reached the family room, we had to walk around the piano, which had been pulled to the center of the room, since my mom was giving lessons and liked it better there.

"Your parents are nice," Milo said quietly as we reached the stairs. I smiled, and stepped aside so he could go down first. He seemed to move into my room a lot easier than he had the last time. But once he found the light switch and stepped inside he just stood there, his eyes disconcerted as they drifted. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, not really noticing his surroundings.

I studied him for a long moment, and then put the cold bowls I was carrying down on my desk. Milo hardly noticed when I moved up behind him; not until I slid my hands over his shoulders and took hold of his jacket. "It’s kinda warm in here," I pointed out when he looked over his shoulder at me.

I pulled the material over his shoulders and he shrugged out of it, and then turned to watch as I neatly hung his jacket over the back of the desk chair. I lifted both bowls of ice cream and held one out for him, getting it so close to his chest that he had to take it if he didn’t want a smudge of chocolate on the lip of the bowl getting on his shirt. He frowned at me, but when I took a smothering step towards him he sat back on my bed and lifted the spoon, staring down at his bowl as he stirred the contents, only looking up when I took a seat on his right, close enough to lean into his shoulder. I tasted my dessert, licking a small amount of chocolate from my spoon, and without looking at him I allowed the cold substance to melt over my tongue and took the time to taste the creamy, sweet flavor.

"How was your dad’s party?" I asked.

"Sucked," he responded simply.

I turned my head to meet his eyes. He was close, I noticed. I could smell a light cologne. Not the kind that overwhelmed. Just enough of a pleasant scent to make me want to lean forward. I didn’t. I licked some more ice cream off my spoon instead. "Is that why you came over here?" I asked curiously.

"I figured no one would look for me here," Milo replied, and I watched as he finally tried his ice cream. "I’m kinda... my dad and I had a little disagreement."

I frowned. "Is it serious?" I asked. I rarely had a disagreement with my dad, so this tended to concern me.

"Not really," he said. "We fight all the time. It’s not a big deal." I continued to watch Milo as he looked away from me, and each of us slowly ate. He was thinking. I was just waiting him out. When he abruptly dropped his spoon in his bowl and held it towards me, as if he didn’t know what to do with it, I took his, along with mine and moved across the room, placing them on the desk. When I returned, I didn’t bother sitting any further away from him than I had in the first place. "I didn’t make a toast," Milo finally said, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists as he leaned forward.

I looked over his back, following his dark, silky shirt to where it tucked into his pants. I lifted my hand, lightly resting my fingertips low on his back, feeling the thin, smooth material, and Milo’s warm skin beneath it. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"The best man’s supposed to make a toast. But... no one ever asked me to be the best man. My dad just told me that’s the way it was going to be." Milo snorted in disgust, shaking his head. "Then, he just expected me to have a speech or something ready tonight. He got all pissed when I didn’t."

I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I took a moment, and when Milo sat up I allowed myself to let my fingers move up his back, rubbing gently.

"So you guys are fighting?" I asked. I was aware that that was a stupid question, but at least it kept him talking as he met my eyes and gave a slight nod, squirming against my fingers as they reached his side, without pulling away from me.

"We’re always fighting. Like I said, it’s not a big deal."

Milo released a small breath and lowered his eyes blankly to my chest as he chewed at his bottom lip. He looked tired, and bothered, and broodingly hot. I was experiencing the urge to mess up his hair, among other things. But even as I had the thought I chastised myself for it. Milo was trying to talk to me. The last thing he needed was for me to act like a pervert. Unfortunately, when it came to Milo, it seemed that I was a pervert more often than not. I moved my hand all the way up to his shoulder, squeezing lightly before I traced my way down his arm, and over his hand to take it in mine. Milo looked up again as I flipped his hand, palm up, and began to trace circles over his palm, using my thumb.

"Is there a reason why you couldn’t have just made a toast?" I asked. "Even a small one?... Like, congratulations and all that?"

Milo glared, but rather than pulling his hand away from me he closed his fingers over mine. "Yeah. I hate the bride."

"Emily Hill, right? I met her... once. What’s so bad about her?"

I remembered my brief encounter with the woman. I remembered her to seem a little flaky, but I didn’t really remember anything awful about her. Except, I did recall a portrait in Milo’s room of Emily Hill. He’d portrayed her in a dark light, and now I was curious.

"She’s a total bitch," Milo snapped. I frowned, somewhat taken aback by his tone, and I lifted my free hand to where his fingers were gripping mine. As he spoke, I gently pried them off and took his hand into both of mine, studying his fingers with mine. "He’s a fucking idiot for marrying her. I swear all she cares about is his money and he’s not even making her sign a prenup. He met her because she applied for a job at one of the banks. He might as well be fucking his secretary. Now she’s been on this fucking kick about how we need to spend time together as a family. She’s only doing it to impress my dad, and she needs to fucking get it through her head that I’m a little too old to need a substitute mommy."

I remained silent, continuing to move my hands over his, deciding that a nice, calming massage was in order while I waited to see if he was finished. It seemed that he was when he suddenly took in a breath, closed his eyes, and held his head with the hand that I wasn’t lavishing with attention.

"I just flipped on you, didn’t I?" he mumbled. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone... and, everyone else I know was at that party. I just thought..."

"No problem," I insisted. It’s not like I hadn’t been trying to get him to come see me. True, it would have been nice if he didn’t see me as a last resort for an escape, but I’d take what I could get. I pulled his hand towards me, massaging more thoroughly, and as if he’d just figured out what I was doing he tensed for a moment, but then relaxed again. "So where’s... your mom?" I asked. "I mean, your real mom. Is it okay if I ask?"

A rueful smile made its way over Milo’s lips. "Yeah. Uh, she’s not around."

I frowned at that. "Not around because she’s... did she die?" I asked, not really sure how I was supposed to ask such a question.

"No. She left when I was eight. My parents divorced."

I nodded. This was actually something that I could understand. "My dad left when I was really young, too... Kenny, upstairs... He adopted me and my brother. I don’t even remember my real dad."

"Oh... sorry," he said quietly. "Um... it’s not like that with my mom. I still see her about once a year."

"Where is she?" I asked curiously, and Milo shrugged.

"Don’t know," he paused, glancing down as I unbuttoned the wrist of his shirt and slid my fingers over his skin there. "She’s a photographer. I never know where she’s gonna be. Sometimes her cell phone goes out of service for months; but, every six weeks or so she sends me a box of pictures, all copies from her work. I think she hopes I’ll find something worth painting, but I hardly even open the boxes anymore."

"Why not?"

"I don’t really know," he replied, his brow frowning. But his troubled expression disappeared and I watched his eyes widen on me when I lifted his hand to my mouth and flicked my tongue over the place just between his thumb and his index finger before my lips rested over it, kissing him. Milo swallowed, and when he pulled his hand away to hold it in his other I released him. I watched him flush and forced a small smile as I wished I could make him feel better.

"You can stay here as long as you want," I offered. "Stay the night if you want to."

It was funny how fast Milo could go from looking shy to regarding me like I was some kind of predator. I couldn’t help it; I laughed throatily as I rolled my eyes at him and stood up.

"I’m serious. We have a guest room upstairs. My friends use it all the time."

"Oh," Milo replied, suddenly standing up. "No. No thanks. I need to go home, anyway."

"It’s still kinda early," I pointed out, moving in front of him when he headed towards the door. He was avoiding my eyes again.

"Um... thanks for letting me vent and all, but..." That was as far as he got, all because he had to pause and lick at his bottom lip. My hands moved to cup his face and I pulled a startled Milo directly to me, closing my eyes as my lips settled over his, sucking the tip of his tongue into my mouth. It felt cool, and tasted sweet from the ice cream, and he tilted his head, leaning into me.

Milo clutched my sides, roughly enough to make me jump, but it didn’t seem to matter as I parted my lips, deepening the kiss as he slowly responded to it. I only became encouraged when his hands slid lower and he gripped my hips, pulling me up against him; and as I slid my hands up into his hair, making good on my earlier desire to mess it up, I was surprised that beyond his body, firm and warm and clothed against mine, I could feel a distinct bulge against my stirring groin.

When Milo’s lips left mine for the briefest moment, I only leaned forward more and moved my tongue over his soft, full lips, not feeling the need for the small breaks we experienced the last time. I coaxed his mouth back onto mine, open and responsive, and I became bolder, sliding my hands down his back without stopping as I reached the curve of his ass. He felt firm beneath my splayed fingers, but soft enough to get a good grip on as I pulled him harder against me and ground myself against the hard organ he had tucked away in his pants. My actions solicited a small, deep moan from Milo, the sound taken into my mouth along with his tongue.

When I slid my hands up to his back, I gripped his shirt, pulling it out of where it was tucked into pants. For a brief moment he defensively held the material down, but decided to clutch my shoulders instead, his arms moving around me for balance when I made sure he lost his, and I braced myself, making sure not to land over him too hard as his back landed securely on my mattress.

Milo looked up at me. A lazy expression occupied the emerald of his eyes, which looked darker beneath my shadow, and the expression on his face was one of nervousness and curiosity as I met his gaze, all the while untucking the front of his shirt. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but stopped when I leaned forward, brushing my mouth over his cheek, rather than his mouth, just in case he still wanted to say something as my fingers found his bare stomach, smooth and contoured with light muscles beneath the surface. I kissed my way towards his ear, and nipped gently at his lobe before he lifted his hands to my arms and I finally heard his voice.

"This isn’t what I came over here for," he whispered.

I froze over him, releasing his ear. That decidedly was not a good way for him to get his point across if he wanted me to stop. I’d definitely need a more specific order, considering the way that my own cock was just as hard as his now, straining against my zipper where it rested against his thigh. At least I didn’t have to wait long. Milo didn’t say anything more, but I felt his chest heave beneath me as he took in a breath, and all at once his body seemed to relax as his fingers tightened invitingly around my arms, just above my elbows. I lifted my head to meet his eyes, perhaps searching for any last objections without really giving him time to make them before I settled my mouth back over his for a simple kiss. I’d just felt his lips respond when I abruptly pulled away and slid down his body, guiding him to lift his legs further onto the bed while I lifted his shirt well over his abdomen.

I heard Milo’s sharp intake of breath when my mouth met his skin and I kissed him wetly, just above his right hip, and dragged my mouth to the other. Feeling his hands on my head, smoothing back my short hair, I closed my eyes and found the bottom of his pants with my tongue and then traced a trail upwards, following the thin line of hair to his navel. His skin felt hot beneath my hand as I slid it up his shirt while my other worked to unbutton the garment, just enough to bare his chest to me. He trembled beneath me as I teased his skin with my mouth, tasting clean, smooth flesh. My tongue found his left nipple and when I closed my lips over it, sucking lightly, the tiny bead hardened against the pressure and Milo arched up, a surprised sound escaping him as he forced down a moan. My hand pressed against him firmly as I dragged it down his stomach, over his pants, until my palm came to rest firmly over the long bulge beneath the material. He squirmed, his fingers digging into my scalp as I lifted my head from his nipple and placed my mouth over his neck openly, lightly sucking at his skin as my hand explored his organ through his clothes, taking in the long shape of it and cupping the firm smoothness of the head before I teasingly traced my way back down his shaft and then gripped him firmly through his clothes.

Milo’s hands moved to the sides of my face, guiding me upwards and I saw a flash of green eyes, glazed over and rolled back before my mouth settled over his. He opened readily beneath my tongue and his responses became anything but hesitant as he kissed me back while I slowly worked my fingers along his cock. He arched his hips impatiently, and becoming rather impatient myself I ground my own erect member against his thigh and groaned against his mouth as I dragged my hand deliberately up his erection, meaning to unfasten his pants. I’d just reached the button when Milo suddenly shuddered, his body convulsing as he gasped against my mouth.

I paused over him, but only because he’d stopped kissing me. As I studied his face, his brow was knit and his eyes were tightly shot. I watched his cheeks heat right in front of me, a tempting shade of red that momentarily made him seem more beautiful than handsome, or at least he would have if he didn’t look so troubled all of a sudden as his hands clutched my arms again. This time, it felt as if he was holding me back more than anything else. It took me a moment to realize what had happened, but when I did, I had to bite my lip, hard, to keep down the chuckle rising in my throat. As it was, I was lucky enough that Milo’s eyes were closed, otherwise he might have noticed just how amused I was.

I moved slowly as I leaned back down and gently kissed away some of the tension masking his features. I found his lips and coaxed them open, becoming satisfied when he met my tongue and his body relaxed again. But, it didn’t last long. As soon as I popped open the button of his dress pants, Milo gripped my wrist, holding it away as his eyes snapped open. He looked at me, seemingly worried about something, and the next thing I knew his hand was on my chest, pushing me away as he sat up. I gave him some room, frowning as I watched him looking anywhere but at me as he tried to catch his breath.

"Milo?" I tried, when he said nothing. I moved my hand gently over his thigh but he took in a breath and caught it again. I stopped, frowning.

"I’m sorry," he said, sounding uncertain.

"Hey, it’s fine," I insisted, but as soon as my fingers so much as wiggled against his leg he was tightening his grip.

"Please don’t."

"Milo..."

He turned his head, facing me as he tucked his hair behind his ear and I watched as that lovely blush crept over his entire face. "Look... I sort of already..."

I grinned. "I know," I informed him. "I thought... you might wanna clean up. It’s cool, okay? No worries."

Definitely no worries. I certainly wasn’t offended if I’d caused Milo Trust to come in his pants. Flattery at its finest, if you asked me. Milo’s expression softened as I smiled at him; and when I leaned forward, planting a small kiss against the corner of his mouth he leaned into it as he let go of my wrist. I reached for his pants once again, this time disappointed when he abruptly stood up and looked down at me where I remained on the bed. He was shaking his head, and my frown deepened because I knew that look. It was becoming very familiar on him.

"I’m sorry. I can’t stay here," he stated.

I stood. "Milo..."

"I’m just gonna walk myself out, okay?" he stated, and before I could do, or say anything more, his back was turned on me as he headed out my bedroom door, practically slamming it behind him.

I closed my eyes for a moment, warding off a headache that I knew I was going to have later, and shook my head. Milo Trust. I wondered if he’d ever make sense. I didn’t go after him as I heard him moving up the stairs. Obviously, he didn’t want me to do that. So, I did the next best thing. I dropped my pants, and my white cotton boxers joined them around my ankles, freeing my cock to flip up against my abdomen, just beneath my t-shirt. I wrapped my hand around the smooth texture of my shaft, ready to release the most tension my body had ever felt. I got off two strokes before I was suddenly releasing my cock, shocked to find my bedroom door swinging open. I stood there, ready to scream at someone; but when Milo Trust walked back into my room and made a beeline for his jacket which was still hanging on the chair, and he didn’t even bother to look at me, all I could do was stand there, crossing my arms sternly and shaking my head. When he turned with his jacket in hand, Milo abruptly dropped it as his eyes widened on me, drifting down past my waist. He swallowed hard, dropping his jaw stupidly, and to my surprise, he was the one blushing while I just stood there feeling annoyed over the interruption, especially since he’d just run off on me.

It seemed that all Milo could do was stare, and I was too stubborn to just pull up my pants. When he took a hesitant step in my direction, meeting my eyes, I dropped my arms, but still didn’t bother covering myself as I regarded him expectantly. He obviously had something to say to me. Why it couldn’t wait was beyond me, though. My balls were starting to ache, I was so hard. I was irritated. Maybe a little hurt. Worried that Milo was going to stop talking to me again. Not to mention I was currently half naked and too horny for my own good. Distracted. I was distracted, and that’s probably why I didn’t notice that Milo was getting closer to me, not until he was close enough to touch.

I reached out abruptly, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, fisting the soft material as I pulled him to me. Before he could think to do anything about it I’d leaned forward, planting my lips over his. Milo’s hands came out, reaching for balance. One gripped my t-shirt, and when the other fell firmly on my bare ass, Milo moved it up to my back almost politely, causing me to break the kiss just to smirk at him. He shyly avoided my eyes, but leaned forward again to let his mouth brush hesitantly over mine, giving me the only signal I needed to kiss him more soundly. I closed my eyes, feeling him as he brought himself closer to me, and gasping when I felt his hand, those long, warm fingers, close around my cock. I wasn’t expecting it, or the slow, careful strokes as he slid his hand experimentally over my length. I sighed, wrapping an arm around his neck to hold him to me, and closed my fingers over his, surrounding my cock, guiding him as he moved and doing my best to demonstrate how I liked it. When I pulled back from our kiss, Milo Trust still wouldn’t meet my eyes, and he was still blushing. But it didn’t matter. I liked him that way, I decided. And the way he was touching me... for now that was enough.