Milo #3
The dance floor was in the center of the room, with strobe lights flashing out from the DJ booth in the corner.
Milo spent the next few minutes people watching, starting with the DJ and skimming over shifters in all kinds of sexy, flirty, revealing, and even professional outfits.
A glimmer of red hair caught Milo’s attention, but when they homed in on the ginger hair, the person was a fair bit shorter than Rowan, with shaggy locks more similar in length to Milo’s.
Maybe Milo would grow out their hair. They loved the long tendrils of curly red that would fall out of Rowan’s buns and top knots. Maybe Milo could have hair as long as their pony’s mane.
Their pony let out a loud whinny, which Milo ignored.
They could probably pull off long hair if they maintained it well enough.
Their pony whinnied again, and Milo huffed, turning away from the dance floor.
Okay, yes, fine, they weren’t always the best with self-grooming.
They had their haircut appointments pre-scheduled for the rest of time because after Anabelle died, they’d let little things like that go.
Andrew had hated that. He’d once called Milo “mangy,” which was rude and definitely not true.
Yes, there had been a few weeks when they hadn’t showered more than a handful of times, and yes, Andrew had once found Milo attempting to unstick a lollipop from the back of their hair, but it was still hurtful and—
“Milo?” a warm, familiar voice called, and Milo glanced up to find their ginger giant standing there.
“Hi!” Milo said, their voice coming out closer to a squeal than they would ever admit to anyone. “What are you doing here?”
Rowan held up his wrist, displaying a red wristband. He slowly dragged his gaze down Milo, pausing noticeably on their exposed midriff and short shorts before landing on their wristband.
“It seems the same thing as you. Let me guess, Ray?”
Milo smirked and tipped their head towards the row of tables. Rowan turned to look, but a furrow appeared in his brow. Milo whipped around and found that the table Ray had just been at was empty.
“Oh, come on,” Milo grumbled, pivoting to the dance floor. Thankfully, Ray and the tall shifter hadn’t made it very far into the throng of people and were dancing facing each other, the other man’s hands on Ray’s hips and Ray’s hands on his chest.
Rowan’s voice was a low rumble, just loud enough to carry over the music. “If it makes you feel any better, Ruben works fast, too.”
Ah, that explained it.
“Did he make it to the bar first? Ray only barely got that far.”
Rowan shook his head. “We didn’t even make it two feet in the front door before someone he knew pounced on him. Last I saw, he was on the dance floor with yet another—oh look, speak of the devil.”
Milo followed Rowan’s gaze to the far side of the dance floor, where the ginger man Milo had noticed earlier was dancing up against a big guy with a woman dancing on his front.
“Oh damn,” Milo murmured, and Rowan sighed.
“To be honest, it’s for the best. Whoever he was with must have gotten him his bracelet, because I was able to get mine undetected.”
“Oh?” Milo asked, curious but trying not to be too nosy.
Rowan was holding a beer bottle loosely by the neck, and he swirled it once before taking a long drink. “Ruben wanted me to try and ‘get out there’ tonight, but I’m not really interested.”
If Milo was some sort of bug shifter, their antenna would have been twitching. As it was, their pony shuffled their hooves eagerly.
“Are you not on the market right now?” Milo asked, which sounded like something Ethel would say.
“I’m a bit wary after my last attempt at dating ended with a guy being a jerk to me for my touch…thing.”
Milo grimaced. “That sucks. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
Rowan shrugged one large shoulder and took another swig of his drink. “It is what it is. I don’t typically have much luck with dating apps or meeting folks at bars. The few moderately successful relationships I’ve had were friends that turned into something more.”
“I feel like that’s the best way to do it, though. Never in a million years would I have been friends with Andrew. Like, if I had known Ray then, I never would have wanted to introduce them, and he only met Anabelle and Ethel once, and it was mostly by accident.”
What a shitty last person for Anabelle to have met. Milo hoped beyond hope that wherever she was now, she knew that Milo was free from him.
The music changed, and the crowd appeared to ripple as the mass of sweaty bodies adjusted to the new tempo. A wave of smells hit Milo, but their pony didn’t seem to care anymore, surrounded by a calming bubble of Rowan’s scent.
“Anabelle would have loved Ray,” Milo found themself saying, even though doing so felt like sliding their toes off the edge of the cliff. “She would have loved you, too.”
Rowan's eyes rounded, and Milo’s pony gave a very human-like harrumph.
Over the past few weeks, it had become clear that Rowan didn’t see himself and all of his wonderfulness clearly.
Milo wasn't sure if they were the right person to show him just how amazing he truly was, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Milo’s gaze drifted back to the dance floor, and they found Ray standing alone, looking dejected.
“Oh, shit, I… Will you be here?” Milo asked, placing their mostly empty glass back down on the bar.
Rowan looked between them and the dance floor. “Yeah, go be with Ray. I’ll probably get another drink and try to find a quiet table.”
Milo snorted. “At Kickback? Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Rowan huffed, his smile small and somewhat forced.
“I promise I’ll come find you as soon as I get Ray all sorted—or maybe he’ll come back with me. Who knows.”
“Don’t let me interrupt your night,” Rowan said, all semblances of a smile gone.
“Hardly. I was settling in for a long night of people watching and eyeing all Ray’s men like a hawk.” Milo couldn’t help themself. They snickered and looked up at Rowan through their lashes. “And then my actual hawk appeared!”
Rowan’s eyes rounded once again, and Milo gave him their second salute in as many hours and hurried towards the dance floor.
Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.