8. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Branson
Choices are hard. Sometimes you make the right ones, sometimes you don't. And sometimes you won't know either way
L oud arguing from somewhere in the apartment woke me. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was audible enough to keep me from drifting back to sleep. Blinking rapidly to clear the crust from my eyes, I took a moment to stretch and take notice of my body. My head ached and my mouth was horribly dry but other than that, I felt okay.
Another shout had me sitting up and throwing my legs over the side of the bed. Who could Milo be arguing with in our apartment? Besides Mia, he never invited anyone over, and I’d never heard him raise his voice to her. It had to be someone else, but who? The sudden realisation of the likely culprit had me rubbing my hands over my face and groaning.
Noel.
My ‘friend’ who likes to lick my neck and who, in return, I like to grind against. Yep, that Noel. Forgot about the friend zone, didn’t you, Branson? I should have been angry at myself for letting my resolve slip with such ease. But I wasn’t. The moment got away from me and it all felt so good - his lips, his hands, the way he spoke to me, the promises he made of worshiping me next time we were together - all so fucking good. He literally used the word “worship”, speaking right to my greatest desire - what was I to do?
And then there was Milo. I know I told him I liked him last night. I also know I meant more than just as a friend or roomie. And if the rod of hardness pressed against my ass and the way his breathing grew rapidly unsteady was any indication, I was pretty sure I had a similar effect on him.
What was I playing at though? I wasn't this guy. I didn't go after two men at once. Didn't toy with people's feelings.
I was in a bit of a pickle.
From the sound of the raised voices, I had probably made a huge mistake inviting Milo along to the bar. My hope had been that Noel and Milo would hit it off - that a friendship would bloom there. Milo clearly needed more friends and I’d bet my last paycheck that Noel, for all his bravado and swagger, was pretty lonely too.
“Fucks sake!” I reached for my phone and typed out a message.
Me: SOS, SOS. Auggie Bear, this is an emergency!
I threw my phone down next to me and stood. I vaguely remembered changing out of my jeans and pulling on my favourite pink boxers the night before and looking down at my body, I see that was the case though I didn’t put on a t-shirt. A white vest lay discarded on my floor, so I grabbed it and shrugged it on before walking slowly down the hall, listening to the voices coming from the lounge. I turned into the kitchen to grab water before dealing with whatever was going on between the two of them, pausing at the entrance to find a man standing at my counter, unpacking a bag of groceries.
“Who the fuck are you?” What was with people surprising me in my own kitchen? This was some fucked up house of horrors shit. The man startled, looking at me, his mouth wide open and his hand held against his heart as though I had scared the crap out of him. Join the club, buddy. It was then that I took in his attire - a chef's uniform, pristine white with small black detailing and a logo over one breast that I recognised instantly.
“Noel!” I yelled, spinning around and marching into the lounge. “Why is there a chef in my kitchen? And why are you two so loud? Indoor voices, please.” Maybe my headache was a little worse than I first thought.
Noel and Milo took a few steps apart from each other, both turning to face me, both wearing matching scowls which softened when their gazes reached me.
“You’re up.” Noel’s eyes skated over my body, pausing briefly at my waist before trailing upwards slowly and meeting my eyes. “That,” he pointed towards the kitchen, “is Emile. He is one of my best chefs. I asked him to come over to make you breakfast.”
From next to him, Milo scoffed, and Noel shot him an icy glare.
“I told him it was unnecessary. No, actually, I told him it was way over the top to bring a chef to our house to cook you breakfast. But Mr Moneybags here seems to think it was a sweet gesture.” Milo’s voice was laced with disdain.
Well, shit, guess this friendship was not happening.
“It is a sweet gesture. I’d have made him breakfast in bed, but I don’t know how, so I did the next best thing. I don’t get why you’re so frustrated about it. Emile will make enough for you too.”
Milo made that annoyed scoff again that I was beginning to think was a sound he had developed specifically to deal with Noel.
“I could have made him breakfast, it really isn’t that difficult, Noel. Didn’t you have fancy tutors or nannies to show you how to make eggs and toast?” Milo’s voice rose an octave and Noel’s brows pinched into an annoyed frown. The tension between them was thick, thick enough to ignite a fire I was not sure I could put out.
“Okay, let’s all take a breather.” I turned to Noel, walking forward and taking his hand. The scowl he’d once again aimed at Milo dropped and his lips twitched up into a breathtaking smile, the lines of his brow softening with the move. “Firstly, thank you for organising breakfast. I do appreciate the gesture. For future reference though, a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee would be fine. Secondly, please tell me you went home last night and you didn’t attempt to sleep on our sofa?”
Milo laughed as he said, “Oh, you missed that whole discussion. Let’s just say that Mr Money-”
“Stop calling me that!” Noel barked and I gave Milo a look, pleading with him to not poke the bear.
Milo cleared his throat before continuing. “Noel here, moaned bitterly about the state of our perfectly comfortable sofa and then tried to order us a new one. He wanted to buy you a fucking couch! The guy has more money than sense!”
“The ‘guy’ is standing right here,” Noel snapped back at Milo but he continued on as if Noel hadn’t said a word.
“I explained as politely as possible -”
“Well, that’s a lie. You were rude as fuck,” Noel interrupted. I was getting whiplash from their back and forth. “I simply offered to get you something more comfortable. Milo took offence to that and kicked me out. So no, gorgeous, I didn’t stay here last night. Your housemate made sure of that.”
A soft, lightly accented voice broke through the tension in the room.
“Um, Sir? Excusez moi , but shall I start the breakfast?” Emile’s eyes darted between the three of us, unsure of who to settle on.
Noel looked to me; his brow raised in question. From next to him, Milo stood wearing a blank expression. Turning to Emile, I asked him to list exactly what the breakfast entailed and after determining that Noel had tasked him with whipping up five dishes, three of which I could not even pronounce, he returned to the kitchen to cook French toast, at my request.
It was only once Emile had left the room and I flopped down on the sofa, groaning and rubbing at the throbbing in my temples, that I realised that I had once again greeted a guest in my underwear.
Mum would be so disappointed.
Breakfast was delicious. I wanted Emile to cook for me every day but I didn't dare say that because I was sure Noel would make it happen which would be utterly ludicrous and because I was also sure by the side eye Milo kept shooting at Noel, that it would only ramp up the tension in the room. As if the tension wasn’t already suffocating.
With breakfast over, Noel went to see Emile out and Milo disappeared down the hall. Feeling completely torn and guilty over the events of the morning, I poured another mug of coffee in my Yes, Daddy mug and walked to Milo’s room, rapping lightly on the door.
“Come in.” I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Milo was sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I entered, and his lips settled into a smile. I was momentarily taken aback by how beautiful he was. His eyes, a light brown, looked golden in the light streaming through his window, his lashes were thick and dark, and his hair, which was almost black was sleep ruffled. His cheeks wore a pink hue that deepened when I smiled back at him and I noticed a tattoo I hadn't before to the right of his navel. Visible only now because the Henley he wore had lifted, showing off a gorgeous sliver of skin and a dark trail of hair leading down towards the waistband of his sweats.
Milo cleared his throat, pulling me from my perusal of him. “Bran?”
“Yeah, um, sorry. Had a moment there. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for all of this.” I waved my hand at the door behind me, then slowly walked over and sat next to him on the bed. His scent was intoxicating, - earthy and peppery mixed with sweat. I resisted the urge to move closer. “I know he can be a bit much, but he’s a good guy.”
“If you say so,” Milo replied, looking down at his hands, his nose wrinkling as he did. I bent my head to try and meet his eyes, smiling when they locked with mine.
“He really is. I think he just had a very different upbringing to us, and he doesn’t always think before he acts. Especially where money is concerned.” An expression I couldn’t decipher crossed Milo’s face and his brows scrunched together briefly before he schooled his features.
“It’s always about the money, isn’t it? I hate it. The way he tosses it around reminds me too much of my fa-” he cut himself off, shaking his head. My guess was that he was going to say father and that had my interest piqued. Neither Milo nor Mia had ever mentioned their parents or anything about their childhoods. I’d always respected their privacy so never asked but that didn’t stop me being curious. Especially now, when it seemed like something about Noel was setting Milo off.
“Can you try to get along with him, please?” They were both going to be in my life, of that I was one hundred percent sure. Though in what capacity, I had no idea yet. I didn’t want to constantly feel like they were about to rip each other to pieces, though.
“Because he’s going to be around more?” Milo asked, his voice resigned.
“Probably. I mean, yes. He’s my friend. The chances are he will be over from time to time.” His eyes hadn’t left mine. Milo bit his lower lip and my gaze fell to them. Pink and lush. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a light sheen of sweat breaking out along the skin there.
“You like him more than just as a friend though, don’t you?” Milo had my number. I may have no idea how any of this would play out but I wasn’t a liar, even if I did lie to myself.
“I do.”
He nodded briefly, stunning me with his next question. “And me? Last night, what you said about liking me. Did you mean it?”
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. You know that saying about no buses arriving and then suddenly two buses arrive at once? Welcome to my life. I suddenly found myself with two amazing men in my life, and no idea what to do about it. It was quite possible my honesty was going to implode it all anyway.
The truth was that I had tried to tamper down my feelings for both of them, unsuccessfully. But Noel had been there first, and had I not been actively holding him away, we may have already been something to each other. Something more.
I wanted to give us a chance, even if there was a risk he wanted nothing more than sex and in a few weeks’ time I would end up alone again.
“Yes. I meant it.” Milo’s lips parted a fraction, a small smile playing on them as his eyes brightened. Inwardly, I chastised myself for the false hope.
He looked at me expectantly before his eyes dimmed and his smile fell into a hard line. “I feel like there's a but coming.”
I shrugged, “But Noel and I have history and I like him. I’m sorry. I really am fucking this all up.”
“Why? Is it the money? Because he can buy you fancy things?” His words were bitter, and I took in a deep breath as they dug their way into my heart. Milo’s eyes widened, regret etched into his features.
“Is that how shallow you think I am? I don't know what I've done to make you feel that way about me.” My voice trembled and I made to stand but he reached for me, pulling me back down next to him.
“Fuck. No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.” He tugged at his hair, visibly frustrated with himself. “I know you're not shallow. I didn’t mean it, Bran, really I didn't.”
I believed him, believed he wasn't that cruel. The whole morning had been a mix of emotions. A right ol’ cluster fuck.
“It's okay. I know you didn’t. Can we put this behind us? Friends, right?”
Milo smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Friends. And for you, I will put up with the douche canoe.”
I chuckled at that, some of the tension brought on by his earlier comment evaporating. “Maybe don’t call him that?”
“Okay, I will put up with Mr Moneybags.”
“Milo!”
He laughed. I laughed. And suddenly, it felt like things would be okay between us.