Chapter 7
Author’s Note:
My dream as a child was to be seated in a booth with a mini juke box that actually worked, and it sadly never happened. Not. One. Single. Time.
Rowan
“You really didn’t have to pick my diner as our next adventure locale,” Milo said, grinning up at Rowan in a way that made it clear it was a good thing Rowan had chosen the diner.
After their little wager, Milo had lost spectacularly at mini-golf. They’d blamed Rowan and his “distractingly adorable, luxuriously luscious laugh,” whatever that meant, but Rowan was pretty sure it was because Milo had the coordination of a baby foal.
Actually, scratch that. Just the week before, Rowan had been watching a nature special on farm life, and the host had gushed over a foal who was up and walking within an hour of birth.
His hawk squawked in warning just as Milo managed to run into the door of the diner.
“Oh my gods!” Milo shouted, scrambling at the glass until they managed to find the door handle. “This door used to push in! They changed the door?”
The puffy sleeves of the dress Milo was wearing inflated and deflated as they struggled to open the door.
The dress itself was quite pretty, even though it looked like it had come from the 60s.
Of course, because it was Milo, they hadn’t stopped there.
The air was still crisp in the evenings, so Milo had paired the dress with mermaid scale leggings and neon pink fuzzy boots.
Rowan reached over the top of Milo’s head and grabbed the edge of the door, holding it steady so Milo could stumble inside.
“Hi, welcome to 6th and Main. Table for—”
The woman standing at the host stand gaped at Milo, and Rowan’s shoulders tensed, readying to go on the defensive yet again.
He and his hawk hadn’t been sure what to make of the putt-putt guy staring so intently at Milo. Usually, he wouldn’t have said anything, allowing his loud and outspoken family members to handle themselves, but Milo had appeared completely oblivious.
Rowan had tried to keep his tone neutral, but then Milo had mentioned his ex, and his alpha instincts had kicked into overdrive.
Those same instincts were already on high alert today, returning to the place where Milo had first met their ex.
He really didn’t want to growl at this waitress, but he would if he had to.
Rowan’s hawk stood up from his nest and unfurled his wings just in case.
“Milo?” the woman asked, and Milo’s fingers knotted in the hem of their dress.
“In the flesh,” Milo said, pulling out their skirt as if to curtsy, only to bow at the waist instead.
With a quick glance at Rowan, the woman grabbed two faded menus off the host stand. “Well, welcome back, Milo, and welcome Milo’s…?”
“Rowan,” Milo said, straightening back up and throwing Rowan a smile so bright he had to look away.
The waitress gestured for Rowan to go first down the tight aisle, and he was just barely able to make out her whispered, “Your Rowan, huh?” as she fell into step next to Milo.
Rowan’s hawk tucked his wings back against his side and bobbed his head, apparently content now that he had been claimed.
They took their seats, and the woman pulled out a notebook and turned to Rowan. “My name’s Courtney, and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you started off with to drink, and how long have you known our dear, sweet Milo?”
Milo ducked their head, pink spreading across their bare cheeks. They weren’t wearing any makeup today, and when Rowan had asked, Milo said they were actually feeling decidedly neutral today.
“Water would be fine for me, and I’ve known Milo for a little over three weeks now,” Rowan said.
“Water, got it, and how did you meet him?”
Rowan glanced at Milo, but they were staring steadfastly down at their menu. Someone shouted in the kitchen, and the distinct sound of a plate clattering on linoleum made his hawk jump, but Milo didn’t even flinch.
“I met Milo at a movie theater,” Rowan said cautiously, taking Milo’s lip twitch as permission to keep going. “We were both waiting for a movie, and we happened to run into each other.”
“He ran into my backpack,” Milo said, their fingers dancing along the side of the table until they came to rest on top of the napkin-wrapped silverware.
“Right. I ran into it three times.”
A grin flashed across Milo’s face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
Courtney clucked her tongue and put her pen behind her ear. “So, after he hit you with his backpack, one thing led to another, and now you’re getting dinner together, here of all places?”
Rowan’s hawk bristled, and he spoke without thinking. “They said this diner was their favorite, so I thought we’d give it a try, but if that’s going to be a problem…”
He trailed off as his brain caught up with his mouth, and he sucked his cheek in between his teeth. His hawk fluffed out his feathers, proud of him for defending his—
Friend. Milo was his friend, who hadn’t asked Rowan to defend them.
Before Rowan could apologize, Courtney gave a good-natured snort. “It’s not a problem. If anything, I’m overjoyed to see—” She turned and gave Milo a more purposeful up and down. “Sorry, are you not using he/him pronouns anymore, hon?”
Rowan had once come face-to-face with a deer on the road leading up to his cabin. With a few honks of his horn, the beast had loped off into the woods, but what had stuck with Rowan was the stark contrast between the creature's magnificent antlers and terror-filled eyes.
“You… I…” Milo stuttered, their eyes wide as if they were trapped in a pair of headlights. “I thought that…wasn’t cool here.”
Courtney lowered her notebook. “You thought using pronouns wasn’t cool here?”
Milo pulled the napkin off their silverware and gripped it tightly with both hands. “Well, when I tried out she/her pronouns, it didn’t exactly go over well.”
Courtney cocked her hip and placed a fist against it. “That’s cause Donnie in the back is an asshole.”
Milo’s lip twitched up, but the napkin began to tear down the middle. “Our boss wasn’t much better.”
“Oh, she’s long gone now, though. Probably a month or two after you threw that banana cream pie at your cheating ex, she got caught skimming tips.”
Milo barked out a surprised laugh, and the napkin tore in half. “I forgot it was banana.”
“The first one was,” Courtney said with a shit-eating grin. “The second was cherry. I remember the globs of red dripping down that jackass’s nice suit.”
“It was a knockoff,” Milo murmured, stacking the two napkin halves on top of each other. “He always talked big, but he had horrible taste in clothes. I should know.”
The table fell silent, and Milo batted their pale lashes up at them.
Courtney broke first, laughing so hard she had to grip the edge of the booth.
“Oh, Milo. I’ve missed you,” she said, leaning down to wrap an arm around their shoulders.
“I thought everyone was happy to be rid of me and my drama,” Milo said, wrapping an arm around Courtney’s back.
“Again, some of the shitheads might have been, but Jenny and I still talk about that day, and how we wished we’d stayed in contact.”
Milo tucked their chin against their chest, and Courtney planted a loud kiss on their hair.
Rowan’s gaze drifted down to where Milo’s free hand was clutching tightly at the edge of the table. He had the inexplicable urge to take Milo’s hand. His hawk screeched in discomfort, but he also felt that pull to lean in and do…something.
“It’s never too late,” Rowan murmured, and the two shifters turned to look at him. “You could hang out moving forward?”
The back of his head prickled, but thankfully, Milo released the edge of the table as they whispered, “I’d love that.”
“Oh my gods, me, too!” Courtney cried, releasing Milo and standing back upright. “We should definitely hang out!”
She surreptitiously glanced around the diner before pulling out her phone and setting it down on the table in front of Milo. They typed in their phone number, but for some reason, before entering their name, they looked up at Rowan.
Rowan had the absurd urge to flash them a thumbs up but thank gods his hands were under the table. He wasn’t able to pull them out before Milo looked back down at the phone.
Using only one finger, they slowly typed in their name and added “they/them” at the end of it.
Warmth spread through Rowan’s chest, and it took him longer than perhaps it should have to recognize what it was.
Pride wasn’t an emotion he felt often.
Growing up, whether it be at the dinner table, a gallery opening, or one of Ruben’s concerts, it had always been clear to Rowan that he wasn’t actually needed by his family.
His busy parents and talented siblings would go on to pursue their dreams with or without him, and, if anything, his presence was often more of a hindrance than anything else.
The same could be said of Riley’s company.
It had been running smoothly for years, and all Rowan had done was step into a leadership role at the right time to keep it on track.
In the same vein, he wasn’t under any sort of delusion that he was the reason Milo was exploring their gender again. He had just so happened to meet Milo at the right time to give them a little nudge.
And yet…
The wide-eyed look of joy on Milo’s face as they handed Courtney her phone filled Rowan with something akin to pride. He had been here by Milo’s side, and his presence had helped, not hurt.
His hawk puffed up his chest, decidedly proud to have stood up for their friend.
“You want your usual milkshake, hon?” Courtney asked, pulling her pen out from behind her ear.
“Do you have apple pie filling this time of year? If not, vanilla is fine.”
“For you,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Milo’s cheek the way Rowan’s grandma used to do to him. “I’m sure I can find a can in the back. I’ll be right out with those, while you figure out what you want to eat.”