Chapter 13
Author’s note:
Again, I would just like to reiterate that this was NOT PART OF THE PLAN! I want to say I blame Ray, but really, I blame Andrew. Somehow, I’m sure this is all that jackass’ fault.
Rowan
“I told you I was good with my mouth!” Milo announced as they stepped out of the elevator onto their floor. “And now I have a ribbon to prove it!”
Milo had somehow managed to stuff eight very large strawberries in their mouth like a chipmunk and had been given an award for it.
“That wasn’t exactly what I pictured when you said it this morning,” Rowan admitted.
Any number of wonderful, sexy, sweet, and somewhat stress-involving things had gone through his head, the first of which was simply kissing, which he was worried might be an essential part of a first romantic date.
As far as Rowan was concerned, though, their date had been perfect thus far.
They’d spent over an hour picking strawberries, Milo flouncing up and down the rows of fruit, looking cute as can be in their sundress.
Every time Rowan pressed his shoulder or his arm against theirs, their cheeks turned the most endearing shade of pink, and they babbled about farms and flowers and produce.
They’d then spent another two hours trying out all of the treats, stations, and activities around the farm, which was how they had somehow ended up at a strawberry eating contest.
Milo had signed themself up, and Rowan had stood on the sidelines, his stomach in a tightly wound knot.
The previous evening’s anxiety seemed to have blended with excitement over their new relationship, creating a potent concoction in his belly that kept him from eating much more than a few bites here and there.
Ice cream and strawberries probably wouldn’t solve his stomach issues, but sitting down with Milo and continuing to discuss their relationship might.
“Oh, well, I’m also a great talker, in case you hadn’t noticed, and I can tie three cherry stems in a knot in my mouth at once,” Milo said, looking back over their shoulder at Rowan with what may have been intended as a sexy look but came across more as a wide-eyed stare.
It was somehow still endearing.
Every damn thing Milo did seemed to be endearing today, whether it be catching Rowan's eye across the strawberry field to wink—badly—or calling Rowan sweetheart with that too-wide grin on their face.
While Rowan was sure the fated mate bond was at least partially to blame, the sense of safety and rightness he felt with them had always been there. It was more like everything between them had been dialed up a few notches, like they’d been plugged into one of his brother’s amplifiers.
Actually, that was a pretty good way to describe how Rowan was feeling.
It was as if someone was plucking his heartstrings, and the vibrations were reverberating all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes.
Maybe that was why multiple times throughout the day he’d found himself pressing closer to Milo, drinking in their sunny smile and too-loud laughs.
“Three? That’s pretty impressive, baby,” Rowan said, unsure as always how they’d gotten on this topic. “I could only ever manage to tie one in a knot, if I was lucky.”
“That’s still an accomplishment! You know, that's probably why fate put us together. We’re great kissers,” Milo said, blowing a kiss over their shoulder before turning a corner in the hallway.
If only things could be that simple. All afternoon, Rowan had been staring at Milo’s red-stained lips, trying to gauge whether he would be ready to take that first step towards intimacy today, or if he could at least try and hold their hand.
The only fated mate pair Rowan had to go off of was Raina and Troy, and they’d mated on their third date. Rowan would definitely need a slower cadence than that, but a first kiss didn’t seem like too much to ask for. His hawk bobbed his head in agreement, as if he wasn’t half the problem.
On the drive back, Milo’s smell had gone to his head, his hawk nearly drunk on it. He wanted to climb inside Milo’s jacket and burrow into the layers of their dress. Apparently, while he still didn’t appreciate being touched when shifted, his hawk had deemed Milo’s lap as the perfect nesting spot.
There wasn’t a chance in hell he would be asking Milo to do that, though.
First, he needed to eat something, and then maybe they could talk a little more about intimacy, timelines, and—
Rowan’s hawk shrieked, and Rowan stumbled into the wall to avoid slamming into Milo’s back. They’d come to a stop right around the corner, and Rowan hadn’t noticed until it was almost too late.
“Milo, what—”
“Ray?” Milo called, staring down at the small black-haired shifter currently sitting in front of the first door in the hallway.
“Hi,” Ray said, scrambling to his feet. “I was hoping to catch you both, but I couldn’t remember when you were supposed to get back from the farm.”
“You know you have a key, right? Specifically so that you don’t have to sit on my doorstep?” Milo asked, stepping around Ray to slot their key into the door.
Rowan hadn’t known Ray had a key, but it wasn’t surprising. All his siblings and Troy had keys to his apartment.
“I know, but I didn’t want to barge in and interrupt your hangout, so I thought I’d wait just in case you hadn’t gotten home yet.”
Even though Ray was right and this was supposed to be Rowan’s hangout—his date—with Milo, as Ray followed Milo inside, Rowan couldn’t help but feel like he was the one interrupting.
Milo placed their large bag of strawberries on the counter before turning to Ray. “You’re not interrupting. More like…intercepting. What’s up? Why haven’t you answered my texts?”
Ray ducked his head, and his hair twitched like maybe his ears were going to pop out again. “I’m sorry. You know I don’t usually respond when I’m with someone unless it's an emergency.”
Milo peered over Ray and met Rowan’s eyes. “So…”
“Ruben’s still downstairs,” Ray said, and his hair ruffled some more. “We actually wanted to talk to you if you have a few minutes.”
At this point, Milo’s eyes were as big as strawberries. “Oh, well, we—or, I guess, I have something to tell you, too, but without Ruben.”
Ray glanced over his shoulder at Rowan, who was still standing by the door. “Ruben actually really wanted to talk to Rowan, but…I guess Rowan could go talk to Ruben, and I could stay here and talk to you?”
Milo’s frown was such a stark contrast to the toothy grin they’d been wearing all day that Rowan’s hawk shrieked in protest.
“It’s fine. We can all talk together,” Rowan said, following Milo’s lead and toeing off his shoes before padding into the apartment.
The kitchen was barely large enough to hold Ray and Milo, so Rowan took a few steps past it to what looked like a living room.
A three-seater couch was crammed in the corner with a TV on the wall across from it.
On the other side of the wall, Rowan spotted the corner of a bed, which must be Milo’s room.
He hadn’t been in a studio apartment in years, not since college, but Milo had done a lot with the small space.
It definitely wasn’t as clean as Rowan’s apartment, but few places were.
There was a homeyness and a Milo-ness to the space that immediately made his hawk feel at ease, and by extension, Rowan found his stomach unclenching a fraction.
The kitchen island had three tall chairs shoved underneath. The space was probably only meant to hold two, but maybe Milo needed three in case Ray, Ethel, and now hopefully Rowan came to visit.
Case in point, Rowan pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.
Milo barely waited until his butt had touched the seat to scurry around the counter.
“Are you sure?” Milo whispered, turning their back on Ray. “We don’t have to do a big reveal today if you’re not ready.”
As always, Milo was careful to make sure not even the edge of their jacket brushed Rowan, but he could still smell the strawberries on their breath, and it made his head spin and his hawk shimmy his shoulders.
“I’m sure,” Rowan said.
The chair was just low enough that, for once, he was the one who had to look up at Milo. The angle highlighted the sharp ridges of their cheekbones and the familiar curve of their jaw.
Rowan’s hawk leaned forward and, taking a chance, Rowan did the same, skimming his nose so close to Milo’s throat, he could feel the tiny hairs on their neck.
Hawks didn’t scent each other the way many mammal shifters did.
In his shifted form, his scent gland was in his tail region, spreading scent to his wings, which his parents and siblings could use to identify and track him when they were flying around.
In human form, hawk shifters rubbed their wrists against their partner’s scent glands.
Rowan had never scented anyone before, and he wasn’t sure if Milo would get the significance if he did it now. This, on the other hand, was a more well-recognized sign, so he skimmed his nose down to the base of Milo’s neck, where their scent gland was.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself actually press his nose to Milo’s throat, but he took in a big whiff of apples and sun-warmed skin before pulling back.
Milo’s eyes were round and their mouth was slack as they stuttered out, “I… You… Okay.” They blinked several times before turning back to Ray. “Okay. We can all talk. Do you want to bring him up here?”
Not only had Ray’s ears popped out, but whiskers had sprouted from his nose as well. “Uhm…sure, yeah. I’ll go get him. Right now.”
Ray turned on his heel and stumbled into the counter, scrambling for his shoes before nearly catapulting himself out the door.
“Well, if he didn’t know what we wanted to talk about before, he probably does now,” Milo said with a tilt to their lips. “That was…thank you.”
Gods, what did it say about their relationship that Milo felt the need to thank Rowan for a not-even-full scenting?