Milo #2
Obviously, it would have been better if they’d met when Anabelle was still alive, but there was no use thinking like that. They could only go forward from here.
Rowan laid his hand next to Milo’s. “I genuinely hope so. I want to figure this thing out with you, one step at a time.”
“Like, by going on our first official, romantic date?”
Rowan nodded, and his eyes flashed yellow, as if his hawk was agreeing, too.
“Well, then let’s get to it!” Milo said, shoving the final piece of pancake into their mouth. It was cold now, and a little chewy, but they swallowed it and eagerly pushed back from the table, nearly upending their chair in the process.
Rowan stood up much more gracefully and carried his plate and mug into the kitchen.
Milo hurried after him, putting their dishes in the dishwasher, as instructed, and following him out to the front hall closet.
Rowan fished out a light jacket for himself, but after some brief rustling around, he cast Milo an apologetic glance.
“It’s fine. Do you think maybe I could swing by my place really quick and change?” Milo asked.
Rowan shut the closet and reached for his keys. “What if we both drive over there, and you run up and change while I wait outside. Then we can take my car to the berry farm and back to your place?”
“Perfect!”
Milo followed Rowan out the door, but not too closely.
Even though their talk had gone well, Milo wasn't sure how, or if, it had changed things between them. Milo assumed they weren’t going to start holding hands, both because of Rowan’s touch aversion but also because things were still so new between them.
As they boarded the elevator, Milo tried to leave some space between them, but after jabbing the G button with his key, Rowan settled right next to Milo, pressing his jacket-covered shoulder against theirs.
That little crush they’d been harboring grew inside their chest, spreading like the ivy all over the outside of their apartment building. Despite both of them being a bit unconventional, there was nothing unconventional about the feelings Milo was having.
It was hard to focus on the drive back to their apartment, and when they got inside, they were immensely thankful to their past self for cleaning up.
It wasn’t exactly the level of cleanliness they would have hoped for their crush-turned-fated-mate to see, but obviously, they hadn’t known that yesterday.
Gods, how had it only been one day?
They stripped off their dirty clothes and threw the borrowed shirt on the couch so they would remember to return it.
In record time, they slipped into a strawberry print sun dress and candy cane striped tights.
They momentarily considered adding a tulip print sweater they’d inherited from Anabelle, but three different patterns was a bit too much, even for them.
Instead, they grabbed a bright red wind breaker to match their red Dock Martins—and strawberries, of course—and headed out.
They had muted their style around Andrew, because he always had something to say about it, but Rowan had already seen them in all their colorful, mismatching glory. Not only that, but the second Milo slid into his very nice car, Rowan asked what gender Milo was feeling today.
“So, actually, I think Ray and I reached a conclusion last night,” Milo said, clicking their seatbelt into place.
“I’m going to introduce myself using they/he/she pronouns moving forward, because although some days I’m feeling a little more one gender over another, there’s always a mix of genders going on below the surface. ”
Rowan looked both ways before merging into the traffic heading out of the city. “Sort of like your clothes? Even if there’s a color theme or vibe of the day, there’s always a mix of other styles and patterns?”
If there weren’t a series of extenuating circumstances, like touch aversion, consent, and the fact that Rowan’s very sleek car had already reached sixty-five miles per hour in the time it would have taken Milo’s car to reach twenty, they would have kissed him.
“Yeah, it’s kind of exactly like that,” Milo said. “At least, I think it is. I reserve the right to completely change my mind at least five more times, though.”
“You can change your mind as many times as you’d like. Does that mean you want me to switch between pronouns? Or are you going to change them up every day?”
“I think they/them is still my preference, but I like having the option or at least acknowledging that the other ones still apply in their own way.”
The whole thing was still hazy, and Milo was barely able to make it out through the fog, but the ground felt stable under them as they said it. It felt like they weren’t right on the edge of a crumbling cliff anymore.
“Understood. As always, thank you for sharing with me.”
Rowan used his turn signal and smoothly changed lanes. Milo was by no means a car person, but there was something about the way Rowan handled his car that made them wonder how he would handle something else.
Milo’s pony nickered, and Milo rolled their eyes up to the—
“Oh my gods, a sunroof! Can we open it when we get out of the city?” Milo asked, bouncing up and down.
“Sure, baby.”
Milo practically melted into their seat. “I love it when you call me that. Please feel free to do so for the rest of eternity.”
Rowan laid his arm across the center console, resting his hand on the gear shift right next to Milo’s leg. “I think you calling me sweetheart did something to my hawk. I probably wouldn’t have been comfortable using a pet name for quite a while, but he thought it felt right for you.”
“It feels so right for me,” Milo said. They didn’t give themself any time to second-guess or reconsider before admitting, “Anabelle always used ‘sweet pea’ and ‘my sweet,’ but never sweetheart. It felt like something just for you…and just for us.”
The soft purr of the engine almost drowned it out, but Milo could have sworn they heard Rowan’s heartbeat pickup.
“Thank you,” he murmured, tapping Milo’s thigh with his pinky.
The berry farm was twenty minutes outside of the city, and Rowan made good on his promise to open the sunroof as soon as they exited the highway.
They couldn’t really talk over the wind, so Milo used it as an excuse to stare at Rowan’s profile as he focused on the road and the map on his in-dash GPS.
It was still nearly impossible to believe that this man, with his handsome square jawline, plush lips, and luscious hair, was somehow fated to be Milo’s.
“Are we boyfriends?” Milo asked, right as they turned into the farm.
“Uhhh,” Rowan said, glancing between Milo, the map, and the gravel path ahead. “Is that what you want to be?”
“Well, my pony wants us to be mates, like, yesterday. I like the idea of you being my boyfriend, though. At least to start.”
Rowan white-knuckled the wheel as the car bounced and jerked along the road. “O-okay.”
“Perfect,” Milo said, raising their voice to be heard over the crunch of gravel. “I can be your boyfriend, or girlfriend, or I’ve heard faefriend and datefriend before. To be honest, none of those really do anything for me, but they’re not terrible, I guess.”
A very tall shifter waving a neon orange flag directed them into an open spot, and Rowan did his best to pull evenly into it before throwing the car into park.
Very slowly, he turned to look at Milo, one eyebrow raised towards the still-open sunroof. “Do you have any preference whatsoever?”
Milo shrugged, tipping their head back so their pony could sniff at the farm-tinged air.
“How about partner?” Rowan asked.
Milo scrunched their nose. “Actually, I’ve never really liked that one. Sounds like we run a law firm together.”