“Milo, you can’t spend the next two years brooding over this,” I say. He ignores me, of course, and sits on my little dresser. “Um, I don’t think that thing’s sturdy enough for you to sit on.”
“Are you doubting my carpentry skills?” he asks, still frowning.
My derisive laugh makes him frown even more. “Yes, actually. I watched you put it together, remember? I still think those extra screws should have gone in there somewhere.”
“I still can’t believe you made me put it together by myself,” he says. But he does get off the dresser. He almost sits in the sling chair we got along with the dresser before thinking better of it and joining me on the bed. That chair looked comfortable, but it was definitely not.
“You deserved it,” I remind him.
“Ha, see if I ever buy you anything again.” He lies back on the bed and sighs. I think his worry is finally starting to mellow. Thank goodness. This room is small enough without his nearly six-foot-tall frame pacing around all evening.
I lie down next to him, propped up on my elbow. Resisting the urge to snuggle up next to him is even more difficult than usual. I don’t like seeing him so wound up. Even more, I hate knowing that being around me is doing this to him.
“Why don’t we do something?” I suggest. “You said you brought some movies to watch, right?”
Milo growls at me, which unfortunately for him has the completely wrong effect on me. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “How can you not be as freaked out about the Seekers as I am?” he demands.
“I am freaked out, Milo.”
“Well, you sure don’t act like you are. It’s…irritating that you want to watch a movie when a group of assassins we didn’t even know existed until a few hours ago could be coming for you.”
I can’t help smiling this time. Not only is his worry over someone he should hate very endearing, but he’s incredibly handsome when he’s frustrated—despite his hair and lack of fashion sense. Milo doesn’t appreciate my amusement. He jerks back up and turns away from me.
I pull myself up behind him and place my hand on his arm, tugging gently until he turns to look at me. “Milo, I’m not trying to irritate you. It’s just that I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. I’ve always been afraid that someone was going to sneak up on me and slit my throat. Being afraid for my life is like an old blanket for me. It’s nothing new. The Guardians are all poised to kill me on Howe’s orders. Lazaro’s followers are out there right now hatching a plan to get rid of me. Now there are Seekers. They’re only one more twig on an already high stack of fears. I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t feel threatened.”
“People shouldn’t have to live like that. It’s not right,” he says softly.
“But it’s how things are.”
My hand slides down his arm to cover his hand. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he turns his palm up and winds his fingers with mine. Warmth races up my arm and surrounds my heart. I start to feel dizzy, so I lean my head on Milo’s shoulder. Mostly because of the dizziness. I’m not sure if we sit there for seconds, or minutes, but I have to stifle a groan when Milo pulls away from me.
“You still up for a movie?” he asks.
“Sure. What’d you bring?”
He smiles, and says, “A classic.”
A few minutes later I roll my eyes as Terminator starts playing. “Seriously? This was the best you had?”
“Hey, I watched plenty of your girly movies. You owe me.”
“Whatever. I saw you getting all choked up last night when the girl died,” I say.
“Liar.”
I’m pretty sure he would have been crying if he’d been watching it alone. Wimp. Not that I can say too much about it. I was crying myself. There certainly won’t be any crying tonight.
Milo folds his pillow in half like he always does and lies down. His arms are folded across his chest, but I plunk down right next to him, near enough for him to take my hand if he wants to. He doesn’t seem to notice the lack of distance. His emotions are so nonexistent right now I wouldn’t even know he was here if Perception was all I had to go on. The scenes I’ve seen a dozen times before start playing across the screen. Not that I’ll admit it to Milo after teasing him, but I actually like the Terminator movies quite a bit. Milo is making it hard to pay much attention tonight, though.
Twenty minutes into the movie, Milo unexpectedly turns to me, and says, “Did you see all the posters they put up for the Winter Formal next weekend?”
And Terminator made him think of that why? “Uh, yeah. Couldn’t help notice. They were everywhere.”
Silence. For a full two minutes.
“Were you thinking of going?” he asks.
I laugh. “No. I don’t really relish the idea of dressing up just so people can gawk at me even more than they already do. Plus it’d be too easy for someone to sneak up on me at something like that.” Then that little cartoon light bulb flickers on in my brain. “Why? Are you going?”
He shifts on the bed. He barely moves at all, and it might have been simple coincidence, but his arm moves just far enough to press up against mine. “Not alone,” he says.
More silence. The noise of cars racing down freeways and bullets flying around the TV screen suddenly becomes very annoying. I just want to hear Milo.
“We could always go together,” he finally says. “There would be a lot of witnesses, so I doubt the Guardians would try anything. Anyway, people seeing me at a dance will be more earth shattering than you showing up. They’ll probably forget you’re even there.”
“It would really piss Lance off, too,” I offer.
Milo’s mouth twitches, almost smiling. “Most likely.”
My insides are dancing with delight, but I haven’t said yes, yet. Seeing Lance twisted up with jealousy would be satisfying, but it really doesn’t sound like a good idea to put myself out there like that. Plus, making Lance mad isn’t the reason I wanted Milo to ask me. I don’t like it that they fight so much as it is. If either of them gets hurt, I would never forgive myself.
Milo is incredibly hard to figure out with his brooding, casual, sarcastic, teasing mishmash of personality traits. I…think he likes me, but he refuses to really show it. He always finds some way to joke or tease his way out of any situation that feels even remotely intimate. If all he wants is to be friends, I need to know that. Not to mention, the last time I went to a dance, it was with Lance. He’ll be there for sure, but it won’t be with me. I’m big enough to admit that will hurt. I don’t really want to go to the dance, but I do want Milo to ask me. Silently, I wait.
“Plus,” Milo says quietly, the emotions he’s holding back from me quivering on the point of breaking out, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a dress, maybe even with your hair curled, or something. I’d like to see that.”
Relief is quickly overruled. “I don’t curl my hair,” I say abruptly.
Milo turns. “Why not?”
“I just don’t.”
I realize my mistake as soon as he sits up. His slate grey eyes lock with mine. “Why don’t you curl your hair?” The stubborn, relentless look in his eyes is convincing. He is not going to let up. “Why?” he asks again.
“I’m not curling my hair,” I say, just as unwavering as he is.
He pauses for a moment. “But you’ll go to the dance with me?”
“Yes,” I snap without thinking.
Leaning back against his pillow with a bored expression, Milo says, “I’m not taking you unless you curl your hair.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He is going to regret this. I can be just as stubborn as he can. “Cut your hair, then,” I demand.
“Huh?”
“Cut your hair, and I’ll curl mine.” Let’s see how he likes being put on the spot.
Wrong again.
Milo shrugs. “Okay.”
“Wait. What?”
He runs his finge
rs through his hair and lets it fall back down in a tangled mess. “It is getting a bit long, isn’t it? The dance starts at nine.”
Completely unable to speak, I open and close my mouth several times without uttering a single word. Milo leans back on his pillow and closes his eyes. The movie plays on regardless of the fact that neither of us is watching it anymore. I slump against the headboard in defeat. How did he just do that?
“You know, if we’re going to do this right, I should probably take you out to dinner before the dance. I’ll pick you up at seven instead,” Milo says. “Oh, and don’t forget you’ll need a dress.”
“A dress?” I ask, though it sounds more like a squeak than actual words.
“It is a formal dance.”
Oh crap, it is. I haven’t worn a dress since…since my dad’s funeral. I don’t even own a dress anymore.
“And, before you ask,” Milo says, “I don’t do dress shopping. But you can take my little sister with you, if you want. She loves that kind of stuff.”
It takes a moment for his words to really sink in. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah, Celia. She just turned fifteen a few weeks ago.” His eyes are still closed as he moves his arms behind his head. Content, and a little smug, he looks as if he plans to stay there forever.
“You never told me you had a sister.”
“You never asked.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen her at school?” I ask. Surely he’s not one of those jerks that refuse to acknowledge his siblings at school.
“Celia goes to a charter school for performing arts. She’s a really great dancer.”
“Do you have any other siblings?” I ask, glad to know he’s not a creep after all. I still can’t believe he’s never mentioned his sister to me.
Milo finally opens his eyes. “Nope. Do you?”
“No, I’m an only child,” I say. My mind starts working again and his off-handed comment about his sister finally catches back up to me. “You want me to take your sister shopping. So, you’ve told her about me?”
“Uh-huh. She’s been bugging me for weeks to meet you. Just tell me what day you want to go and we can pick her up from school, or you two can go out this weekend. She’ll be pretty stoked.”
She knows Milo has been hanging out with me, but if she’s excited to meet me…”So you didn’t tell her about who I am, though?” There’s no way she’d want to go shopping with me if she knew.
Milo surprises me again. “No, she knows. She was a little worried at first, but we talked about it, and she’s fine about us, now, although, she has been feeling a little left out since I’ve been hanging out with you. It sucks being at home with just the parents.”
Celia being fine about “us” and Milo choosing to spend time with me over a sister he obviously cares about very much is not lost on me. I feel a little lightheaded suddenly, but I don’t let that stop me.
“I feel bad that you’ve missed out on time with Celia. I didn’t mean to keep you away from her.” And I really have. Milo leaves early to come pick me up, comes to my room right after school to supposedly do homework—not that he ever does—and doesn’t leave until late every night.
“Celia understands,” Milo says. His carefully concealed emotions aren’t washing over me, but there is a tense vibration hovering around him that he must not be aware of. “But maybe after you two get to know each other some, you wouldn’t mind if she hung out with us once in a while.”
“Of course, Milo, I’d love that.”
His tension vanishes completely as the corners of his mouth turn up. Eyes closing again, Milo seems to sink into the bed with relief. I let my own smile spring into existence. He was worried that I wouldn’t want his little sister around. They must be very close. Sweet, adorable, I just can’t think of the right word to describe Milo caring that much about his little sister. It makes me want to curl up next to him and pull his arms around me. Not only is Milo willing to accept me, it would appear that Celia is too. Two down, seven billion to go.
“Do your parents know about me?” I ask suddenly.
Milo’s eyes pop open. “Are you kidding me? We don’t talk much, normally. I’m certainly not telling them about you.”
“Oh,” I say dejectedly. I guess that was too much to hope for.
Pushing up from his pillow, Milo looks at me. “It’s not because I’m hiding you from them, or anything. Everyone at school already knows we’re friends. It’s just that, my parents…they wouldn’t be able to handle this. And they’d take it out on you. I don’t want that to happen.”
I don’t really know what to say. It was stupid to hope his parents, the ones who treat him so badly, would welcome me into their home. My mom is, in general, a pretty awful person, but she’s my only family. I hate her for abandoning me, but I still miss her. I miss belonging to someone.
Before I can wallow too much, Milo’s hands grip my waist and pull me down to the bed with him to finish watching the movie. “Celia’s free this Saturday if you want to go shopping.”
“That sounds great,” I say.
I don’t even realize I’m lying on his shoulder until his arm curls around me. The despair that had started to puddle inside me melts away. I nestle against him feeling closer to complete than I have in a very long time. It’s pretty far from Milo actually admitting to any serious feelings for me, but he certainly knows how to make me feel better.
Chapter 15
Sporting Chance