Chapter 6 #3
Milo’s pony popcorned excitedly, spurring Milo to take a step closer so there were only a few inches of space between them as they headed to the start of the course.
Their pony wasn’t quite as good about personal space as Milo was.
They used to always inch Milo just a little too close to Anabelle, seeking love and warmth in the way they best understood.
Thankfully, Milo’s human brain understood there were many ways to give and receive affection.
Like, for example, the way Rowan insisted Milo go first.
“Have you ever been to Kickback before?” Rowan asked, his eyes skimming down Milo’s flowing blouse to land on their purple pants.
Their pony flipped their tail in the air, and Milo found themself popping their butt out as they bent over to place the ball in the center of the felt square. Out of the corner of their eye, they caught Rowan staring.
“Ray and I have been a few times, actually,” Milo said, rising back up to their full height, refusing to pop their booty a second time, despite their pony’s enthusiastic butt shimmy.
“Do you like dancing?” Rowan asked, circling around until he was standing off to the side of the putting green but still in Milo’s line of sight.
“Sometimes! I’m not the best dancer and would honestly rather be here than there, but Ray likes to go every so often to try and meet guys, and he doesn't like going alone.”
Milo did their best to direct the angst that made them feel into their first shot. They weren’t very successful, launching the ball straight into a wall. Instead of ricocheting further into the course, which was Milo’s go-to strategy, it stopped with a loud thunk.
“Oof,” Milo said with a dramatic sigh. “I’m a little rusty.”
“It’s probably been over a decade since I last played, so I wouldn’t be too worried,” Rowan said, following Milo as they took a second and then third shot.
“If you weren’t here, what would you be doing?” Milo asked as they whiffed their fourth shot.
Rowan rubbed a hand over his mouth, clearly trying to hide how impressed he was with Milo’s golf skills.
“I would probably have spent the day doing chores or at the gym or with my family. If I spent the day at home, I might have considered going out to dinner with Raina and Troy or to a bar with Ruben. If I’d been out all day, I’d probably order takeout and eat it in front of the TV. ”
Milo squatted down and squeezed one eye shut, trying to line up their shot with the hole. “If you could only eat one kind of takeout for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
Rowan huffed, but out of the corner of their eye, Milo caught him smiling that small smile. “Probably Italian food. Or sushi.”
Milo considered standing back up to take their shot, but they were so perfectly lined up it seemed like a waste. “I make a mean pasta and frozen meatballs, so I could probably give up Italian in favor of sushi.”
“Is that what you’d keep if you had to choose?”
Milo stabbed the ball with their club, watching in despair as the ball rolled right up to the hole and stopped on the edge.
“I’ll eat pretty much anything, so if you wanted to only eat sushi, that would be fine with me,” Milo found themself saying.
Milo’s pony flicked their tail, quite pleased with themself for the accommodating answer, but Milo was pretty sure that wasn’t what Rowan had actually been asking.
“Uhm…for me, though, I would probably choose diner food because it’s so cozy. ”
Milo finally managed to sink their ball into the hole, and Rowan shoved his club under his armpit so he could golf clap for them. Obviously, the only acceptable response was a deep waist bow, which Milo did, much to Rowan’s amusement.
“Do you have a favorite diner?” Rowan asked, his long legs eating up the space as he returned to the start of the course.
Milo opted to stay put at the hole, standing with one foot on each side. “I used to work at the 6th and Main Diner uptown. It’s right next to where Andrew worked. That’s actually how we met.”
Rowan stared down at the golf ball for a little longer than seemed necessary before winding up and smacking the ball with a decent amount of force. It shot forward, skimming across the wall Milo had hit, and came to rest right in front of Milo’s foot.
“Wow, great shot!” Milo said, grinning widely up at him.
As Rowan approached, his face was pinched. “Does he still work there? Maybe we should stop by,” he practically growled.
Milo’s pony danced back and forth. No one had ever growled over them before. Anabelle and Ethel weren’t really the growling types, and while Ray’s cat had hissed and spit at Andrew during their final encounter, he had been defending himself as much as Milo.
Andrew hadn’t done anything to Rowan; they hadn’t even met. The idea that Rowan would want to tell Andrew what’s what on Milo’s behalf had a warm swirl starting in Milo’s belly.
“Did your disgust over the flaming pile of doo doo that is me and Ray’s ex make you hit the ball this far?”
Rowan’s gaze snapped to Milo, and his cheek dimpled as if he had sucked it in between his teeth. “It…might have.”
Milo grinned. “Then I think we should definitely go check out the diner sometime soon.”
Rowan got into position and tapped the ball perfectly into the hole, right between Milo’s legs.