Love, Milo

‘You’re what?’ she exclaims from the passenger seat as I drive.

‘I’m taking you to buy a dress for my father’s celebration party tonight,’ I repeat myself. ‘Believe it or not, we made a deal to fake a relationship.’

I look away from the road to glance at her, arms folded over her chest, angry for some reason. Before I can ask her what’s gotten her upset, she speaks.

‘When were you planning to tell me you own that building?’ She questions. ‘If you think I’m going to some preppy party filled with a bunch of old rich white men, you’re wrong.’

I stop the car, traffic holding up the cars, and turn to her. ‘I don’t technically own the building; my father does. And I don’t like the men at his parties either, but I have to go.’ Traffic clears up a bit, and I step on the gas.

‘Fine,’ she says. ‘I’ll go with you,’

I smirk. ‘Yeah?’ That was easier than I thought—

‘But you have to get me whatever I want today.’ She crosses her leg over another, and I notice the challenge on her face, the smug expression, knowing I can’t say no.

‘As if I could ever say no to that face,’ I mutter sarcastically.

She laughs excitedly and claps twice as we stop at the dress store. I park and unbuckle my seat belt, getting out of the car. Shutting the door and walking around to Raelynn’s door, I see her struggling to unbuckle herself from the seat.

I pull the door open, and she huffs, looking at me, ‘It’s stuck.’

‘Clearly,’ I smile, bending over and in the car. I place a hand on her shoulder to steady me while my other arm wraps around her waist to find the seatbelt lock. I feel her body flinch as my hand glides over her stomach.

I tug at the seatbelt, causing her to shift and bounce. A smirk rises as I look at her, purposefully taking longer than necessary to unbuckle her. Her breath fans against my chin, and I force myself not to groan.

We don’t speak; I don’t think either of us can. We only scale our gazes across each other’s faces. I know she feels it, the electricity flowing between us. Leaning in and tilting my head, I close my eyes—

She clears her throat, licks her lips, and turns away. I press my forehead against her temple briefly and mentally curse myself.

Maybe she doesn’t feel anything, and I imagine it all.

‘Did you… uh, do it?’ Her hips shift, and I clear my throat as well, freeing her from the seatbelt.

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She nods and steps out. I close the door behind her before walking into the dress stop.

Immediately, her face changes. Her eyes trail over the entire store and at all the dresses that hang around, a sparkle twinkling in each eye.

‘What’s my budget?’ She asks me.

Budget? ‘Didn’t you say I was supposed to get you whatever you want?’

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d take that seriously,’ she laughs briefly.

I shake my head, unbuttoning a button of my shirt, the heat getting the best of me in this place. ‘There’s no budget, love.’ I find a seat and sit down, manspreading and leaning back against the wall. ‘You could buy the whole store. It wouldn’t hurt my pockets.’

She looks around once, then backs down at me. ‘Really?’

‘Go at it, Rae.’

She bites on her bottom lip, and then she’s gone the next thing I know.

For the next two hours, I’ve been stuck in this hot fucking store, my eyes tracing Raelynn around, zigzagging through the dress racks. At some point, she pulls me up from the seat by my hand and makes me walk behind her around the store, asking me for my opinion on dresses. I told her yes to each one she asked me about. I didn’t know women could talk for such a long time about clothing, but Raelynn did, and I listened to every word of it.

And when I thought we were done, she dragged me to the changing rooms—eight dresses in her hands.

‘I’ll be quick, I promise,’ she says. ‘ I just have to try them all on first.’

I sigh. ‘You said that three times already, an hour ago.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she brushes off.

I sit in front of her dressing room as she goes in and shuts the door.

Is this what it’s like to have a regular girlfriend?

My phone in my pocket begins to ring, vibrating against my thigh. I slip it out of the pocket of my slacks. On the screen reads a name I hoped I wouldn’t have to think about for another two hours.

I answer, bringing the phone to my ear ‘Father.’

‘Milo,’ Morgan greets, his voice low and intimidating to everyone but me. At least not anymore. ‘How was your mother while I was away last night?’

‘You’d know if you were there with her. Where were you, dad?’ I sit up, leaning my elbows on my knees.

‘A meeting, not that that’s any of your concern.’

‘Bull-fucking-shit. There aren’t any meetings that last the entire fucking night, Dad; where the fuck were you?’ I hush my voice so Raelynn doesn’t hear.

‘I think you’re mistaken about who you’re talking to, boy.’ He sharpens his tone but stays at a neutral volume. ‘I’m your father. I’m the source of your money. I’m the reason you’re alive. You don’t fucking question me, you hear me? I gave you all that you have, and I can take it away faster than you think. Do you understand me?’

I shake my head, dropping it between my shoulders, feeling my eyes burn.

‘I asked you a question. Do you understand me?’ His voice rises in volume.

‘Yes, sir,’ I whisper.

He sighs. ‘Good. Then I’ll see you tonight, and we can continue this conversation then.’ The line goes dead as soon as the words leave his mouth.

I watch my tears drop to the floor of the dressing room, and I sniffle, gripping the back of my head and pulling at a few strands of hair. My eyes shut as I pull harder until I yank out the strands. The sharp pain zips through my body. My hand comes down, and I look at the few dozen thin, long pieces of hair lying on my palm and then watch as they drift in the air and fall to the floor.

‘Milo, look at this one—’

I look up at Raelynn exiting the dressing room in front of me. She’s wearing a shiny red dress that reaches her ankles, thin straps, and a low neckline. It clings to her body and every curve and dip. But when my eyes reach her face, her smile drops at the sight of me. Fuck.

She furrows her brows in worry, walking towards me. ‘Milo? What’s wrong?’

I shake my head, ‘Nothing.’

‘Yeah, nothing, my ass,’ she whispers, sitting on the floor in front of me, her knees down first and her bottom sitting on her feet.

I grip her arm. ‘Rae, please, get up off the floor.’

She lifts a hand to my face, ignoring my words, and trains my face to look down at hers. And that’s what I do.

I look at her. Every corner of her face, my eyes glide over. The septum piercing hanging from her sharp nose, the long natural lashes curled up from her eyelids, the way her brown eyes flick between mine like they’re watching the most intriguing thing. The long curls fall over her shoulders and partially over her face. I look at her.

‘What happened? I was in there for about five minutes. I come back, and you’re a crying mess.’ Her soft hand and cool rings on my cheek are the only things I can think about now. But something clicks in me.

I put a hand over hers and slid it away from me. A frown appears on her face.

I shake my head, leaning in closer to her. ‘Don’t pretend to give a shit. Caring wasn’t in the deal.’

‘I’m not—’

I lean back. ‘Pick a dress, Raelynn. We don’t have to bond, neither do we need to be friends. We don’t have to do anything but pretend and follow your rules. Because that’s what this is, right? Us pretending?’

Her lips part as she twists her jaw and scoffs, getting up. ‘This is what I get for trying to be nice to men like you.’

‘Men like me? And what’s that supposed to mean.’ I stand up as well, following her. She doesn’t answer.

I take hold of her hand and her hip, spinning her around.

But she snatches her hand out of mine. ‘Men who take things for granted because all they’ve ever wanted they could get with no problem.’

‘Don’t assume my life was rainbows and butterflies. You know nothing about me or my life, darling.’

‘But I do know this. I will not be your pawn to abuse when you’re having a little bitch fit, Milo. If that’s what you see me as, then yes, this is nothing but a game of pretend.’

A moment passes, her words lingering, scarring my chest, before she walks into the dressing room and shuts the door in my face.

I pace around, rubbing a hand down and over my chin, feeling the tiny hairs of my beard brush against my palm.

From the side, a worker asks, ‘Is everything all right?’ She questions.

I turn to her, steam practically coming off me. ‘Out.’

‘Everything’s fine!’ Raelynn shouts with the friendliness from behind the door.

The woman’s eyebrows jump, and she walks away.

Seconds later, Raelynn steps out in a black dress, short and long-sleeved and sculpted just for her, at least that’s what it seems like. It covers her shoulders, but its neck is squared off, showing a large amount of cleavage. The bottom seam meets the start of her thighs. If she bends over, anyone behind her will see everything. And I have a feeling that’s exactly what she was looking for. She holds the other dresses neatly folded in her hand along with the clothes of mine she wore and shoves them into my chest.

‘I want all of them,’ She decides, walking away.

I watch the back of her figure, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor, the singular sound breaking the silence and joining the tension between us.