Chapter 13
Thirteen
-MILO-
Summer and I are seated in the hospital waiting room. My mum insisted we stay here while the doctor looked her over.
And regardless how Mum feels about Summer, I need my best friend’s support.
Grayson and Penelope are also here, somewhere. They said they’d follow in an Uber, and Grayson has texted to say they are here. But he also said he was avoiding Summer.
I grin for a selfie which Summer is taking, although my heart isn’t in it.
“Here with my bestie at the hospital,” she says as she types. “Milo, should I use a sad emoji, or this one?” She shows me a yellow face with tears in its eyes.
“Summer, my mum had a fall. She had a bloody nose. It could be broken.”
“You’re right. An ambulance emoji with the sad emoji.”
Maybe calling Summer was a bad idea?
I glance at the wall-mounted television. It’s muted but the subtitles are on. And it’s on the news channel. Apparently, there was a bear who gate-crashed a kid’s party, then ate all the cupcakes.
Summer’s phone is dinging. She shows me her socials. People continually react to her post. Many are asking if I am alright.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “I forgot to post why we’re here.”
She lets her followers know they are here for my mum who had a fall. Then she fakes a frown and photographs herself. This new post is just as popular.
There’re seven other people sitting on the various rows of monotonous brown chairs, all facing the TV.
It seems like the staff would prefer everyone to be preoccupied with headlines, rather than consider their injured loved ones.
And it’s working. Five of those people stare at the screen.
The other two have puffy faces from crying.
“Milo, the last time we saw each other, you invited me on a date.”
“No. I asked you—”
“Then you asked me to kiss you.”
“I definitely didn’t ask—”
Smooch!
It’s one thing to steal a kiss. But it takes skill to snap a selfie at the same time.
“Summer, what are you going to do with that?” All eyes are on us. She is causing a scene. Even the two who were teary stare. “Summer, everyone is looking at us.”
“You have nice lips.”
“I didn’t kiss you back.”
“That’s because you’re shy.”
I shrug off my frustration. “I wonder how Mum is.”
Summer types, and I’ve lost interest in whatever she’s posting. Soon, her phone is dinging again, annoying everyone else in this room.
I stand. “Wait here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to the doctor.”
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-GRAYSON-
I’m aware I’m grinning. My mouth is so wide it’s hard to ignore.
It’s because I just spotted Milo coming down the hallway, but Milo hasn’t seen me yet. I’m not sure he’ll say much to me if he spots me anyway.
There are doctors conferring, nurses walking briskly, and a patient being wheeled to the elevator. And a lot of clanking, as there always is in a busy hospital.
Although Milo is wearing a vintage Magilla Gorilla t-shirt with black jeans, I imagine him in that unbuttoned shirt he wore when we first met. My smile gets wider until Milo sees me, because wearing a happy expression is not going to win him back while he’s concerned about his mum.
But when he sits next to me, he’s oddly upbeat. “Where’s Penelope?” he asks.
“She’s brushing up on legal stuff.” Though I actually think she left so I could make peace with Milo. “Where’s Summer?”
“Talking to everyone yet talking to no one.”
“Huh?”
Milo mimes typing into a phone.
“I see.” I’m secretly ecstatic Summer is losing favour. “Does she know your mum well?”
“Nope. She’s supposed to be here giving me support, but...”
I place my arm around his shoulders, keen to show I care. And he lets me. Inside, I’m over the moon but I keep my cool. “How’s your mum?”
“She’s going to be okay. The doctor is just letting her rest for an hour but she’s on heavy painkillers. She might need more than an hour to sleep them off.”
“Is her nose broken?”
He shakes his head. “But the doctor says there’ll be a bruise once the swelling goes down.”
“That makes sense.”
We’re connecting again, although it’s a tragedy Amelia had to fall to make that happen.
“Thank you for being here,” he says.
“Always.”
I consider stealing a kiss, but I’m sniffling. A cleaner wheels his trolly by, and its pine aroma is wafting precariously up my nose. He sprays a nearby table with disinfectant.
I hold my breath. My wand is in my pocket so whatever the disaster, I’ll be able to fix it. As long as we’re not nude or turn into dogmen.
The cleaner sprays upward, as if dispensing air freshener.
My nostrils itch.
“Could you clean somewhere else?” Milo says, aware of the danger.
We never hear the cleaner’s response.
The springy black floor puts Milo and I off-balance, but he regains composure while I fall to my knees. We are in a sex room and this cushioned flooring is fit for purpose.
But this is the wrong place at the wrong time.
Milo is admiring the sling at the centre of this totally black room. I didn’t expect him to be that cool about it. He gives a cheeky smirk, then sidles in front of me while I’m still kneeling on the floor.
“Don’t move,” he jokes with his crotch right in front of my face. I’m overjoyed, and a little shocked he’s thinking of sex instead of his mum. But I keep my cool. Instead of exposing himself, he helps me to my feet. “Can you get us back to the hospital?”
Well, I guess we have to be grownups. If I’m ever going to win Milo, I have to let this opportunity slide. I reach for my wand.
“No, stop,” Milo says. He grabs the brightest dildo. It’s fire-engine red.
“I’d rather have the real thing.” I rattle one of the chains of the sling.
“I was just thinking of bringing this one back with me.” Milo puts the dildo down then moves his hand up the sling, feeling how soft the leather is.
He smiles at me. Then his concerned frown returns.
“What if we do it and you sneeze again, and we end up next to a patient on the operating table. The surgeon plunges in his knife while I’m plunging—”
“We’d make quite a show.” I waggle my brows. “It would be a new twist on playing doctors and nurses.” I take the dildo from Milo and conclude my possible future boyfriend is most likely versatile. “Doctor Milo, I have sore lips, and there’s only one cure.”
Milo unzips his fly.
“No. I was instigating a kiss. Not a head job. What if I sneeze again?”
“Say ah.” Milo laughs. “Won’t it be harder to sneeze with my dick in your mouth?”
“Who says romance is dead?”
Milo puckers his lips. I respond.
Doubt drips away. Almost.
I’m questioning his need for love. Does he want me, or am I just someone handy to ease his concern for his mum?
I could be everything to him, but maybe I am no one. It’s hard not to have these thoughts with my history of abandonment. My mother threw me out at seventeen, and the man I recently loved ghosted me.
What am I to Milo?
“You’re overthinking, aren’t you?” Milo says.
He kisses me again. And I find the courage to freefall.
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-MILO-
Grayson doesn’t know how much I’ve been hanging out for this, while my idiotic pride punished him for giving me a criminal record, or embarrassing me in that shitty police cell.
And with his lips on mine, I know this is where I belong.
He can be both lover and a better friend than the social influencer who sends me on pointless errands for coffee beans.
Grayson could conjure a date in Sherwood Forest, just for a laugh. We could dance wearing green shirts and tights.
And when we’re ready to make love, Grayson will use magic, taking inspiration from Penelope’s mid-century fashion sense. A huge waterbed with a bright red fluffy bedspread. A shagpile rug under the bed will allow us to kick off our shoes and feel comfort under our feet.
Or he can shout ‘Abracadabra’ and we’ll be in Europe, looking out over the cobbled streets of Prague from an apartment window, enjoying homecooked Potato Rosti served with sausages and beer before strolling over the Charles Bridge.
Has Grayson been to Europe? Has he travelled as much as Summer and I have?
There are endless possibilities when you have a lover with the means to make every date better than the last.
I break our kiss, but I make sure my gaze lets Grayson know this will not be our last.
“Your mind was elsewhere,” Grayson says.
I nod. “Guilty as charged.”
“What were you thinking about?”
I laugh off his question. “You don’t want to know.”
“Are you sure about this?” Grayson asks.
“No. But love is full of risks.”
––––––––
-GRAYSON-
A lump forms in my throat. I wanted a definite ‘yes’ from Milo.
My last brief affair ended with the guy disappearing completely.
And it took a couple of days to realise the expensive designer shirt I just bought was no longer in his wardrobe.
Nor was the money I put aside for my next dentist appointment.
Or my dad’s watch which I kept in the drawer next to my canister of cash.
People let you down. And now Milo isn’t sure about taking a chance. So why should I?
Yet Milo strips, his concern of popping up in surgery while in the act diminished. He kicks his clothes into a corner.
“What about your mum?” I ask.
“She’s out cold, remember? We have time.” Milo glances at each wall. “There’s no door, so no one will interrupt us. You’ve created this room just for us. Let’s play, but just for a while.”
“Perhaps we should go back.”
Milo embraces me, letting me know he trusts me enough to be vulnerable, naked in my arms. But I’m hesitant. Opening my heart has risks. Yet the man holding me close is receptive. And mischievous.
He’s perfect.
I clutch Milo tight, sensing his warmth through my clothes. It’s clear he sees me as desirable and not as a stooge to be duped. But it’s a huge leap of faith for me to consider myself the same way. That is until Milo kisses my neck, gradually moving his lips to my ear and whispering, “I’m curious.”
Is he? Even with my weird skills?
I purr. Milo’s spell is cast. And I sense the hottest part of Milo’s body stirring, rising. I reach for it, adjust it, press it against my own crotch. Flesh on fabric, the heat of Milo’s cock exquisite through the denim of my jeans.
I’m uplifted. And lightheaded. And in control. “I should take my clothes off,” I say.
“No,” Milo replies and kisses me.
When our lips part, I tremble slightly, a sign my confidence just wavered. Milo has the power to liberate me from past and recent pain, and Milo seems willing to be my saviour. But in order for me to move on, I must continue to freefall beyond this private act.
He kneels and unzips my fly. He takes care reaching in, stroking, then tasting.
And as his moist lips heighten my desire, I picture myself in that sling.
The chains clink and clatter as I slither in and yearn for Milo to clutch my arse, forcing me to take it all, feeling his length before our gentle to and fro becomes frenzied.
Desire. Lust. Hunger. All are evident in his expression. And I delight in each delicious smirk or gasp, pant and puff, growl or whimper.
My wild imaginings hasten my bliss. I’m going to blow, so I moan to let Milo know my fulfilment is close. Milo leans back before I shoot.
This release is more than physical; it’s my pledge of love and friendship.
And on that cosmic plane where lovers sense what is said, Milo hears this oath. It’s an open invitation to bear even more in the presence of each other.
And he got my message. The evidence is on his chest.
Milo strokes his shaft. His chest glistens with my load.
I crouch to caress his balls. It feels so good to fondle a man this intimately.
To pay back the pleasure I received. Milo is breathing frantically, eyeing me, sharing his exhilaration.
It’s a performance men give for men. A porn star moment entrusted to the other, recognised by both, shared as one.
Milo arches his back and moans, then hollers in delight, announcing his release. He shoots. The evidence is on my shirt.
“Sorry about that.” Milo grins.
I don’t care so I hug Milo, letting him know it’s alright, combining both our cum on my top.
As Milo’s panting slows, I treasure the serenity in this quiet space. And the reset one gets after orgasm. That clarity of thought and the ascension of one’s soul.
And now that we’ve gotten past the first hurdle, we can play for longer. Test each other’s boundaries. Test those dildoes. Really get our freak on.
But that will be next time.
“Thank you,” Milo says, softly.
“Thank you,” I reply, just as softly.
“We should go back to Mum.”
I pause before reaching for my wand, taking one last look at the sling and dildos, longing to get down and dirty.
I remind himself, next time, then clear my mind so I can focus on the first of two spells. I wave the wand and Milo’s chest is instantly dry, and my shirt no longer has a blended wet patch.
“Ready?” I ask Milo, after he dresses.
He responds with a tender smile, and with another wave of the wand, we are back at the hospital.