Chapter 9 #2
Milo marks up three sections of my copy of King Lear, asking me to rewrite them until I no longer need to look at the source material. Like that’ll happen.
When my page is half-full of scribbled quotes, the sound of Kai barreling down the stairs pulls my focus. There’s a thud and then a screeched meow.
Milo lifts off his seat as Kai calls out, “Good lord! Milo, can’t you cage this stupid cat?”
“Did you hurt him?” Milo calls back.
Kai grunts. “Nice. You care more about that ginger furball than your own brother.”
“Are you all right, Kai?” his mother asks, seemingly out of obligation.
“Yes, I’m fine. Almost face-planted the stairs, but I kept my balance. Stupid thing cowered on a step and tripped me up.”
“Because he’s scared of you,” Milo says, rounding the table to find his cat.
“He went upstairs,” Kai says, passing the dining room. “The thing is fine. Relax.” As his mother enters the room, Kai waves and says, “I’m heading out.”
“Where are you off to?” she asks as the two continue into the living area.
“Tabby needs a ride home after dance practice,” Kai replies, pulling on his sneakers.
My chest constricts. He’s leaving the house to be with her?
“Drive safe,” Mrs. Nelson warns. “I don’t want you showing off to impress some girl.”
Kai groans. “Mom. She’s not some girl.”
How the heck did Kai become a doting boyfriend when I was certain he thought dating was lame? Seriously, has Tabitha brainwashed my best friend to be obsessed with her?
Mrs. Nelson’s footsteps sound up the hall. “If she’s your girlfriend, I want to meet her.”
“I don’t want you scaring her off,” Kai argues.
His mother laughs. “Me scare her? You just worry about yourself.”
“Look, it hasn’t even been a week yet,” Kai replies. “Let us work each other out first before you invite her over to dinner.”
“Okay, okay. But I don’t want you to keep secrets. I want to know what’s going on with you two.”
“Eww, Mom. I’m not gossiping with you about my girlfriend.”
“I just want to know you two are being respectful and taking things slow.”
“Relax, Mom. I’m in no rush.”
My eyes nearly burn holes through my note pages. I’ve never stared harder at one space. Every word that was spoken kept me frozen. If I didn’t keep my cool, I would’ve blurted out something that’d surely annoy Kai.
“I’ll catch ya tomorrow, Jamie,” Kai calls, and I hear the jingling of his car keys.
“We’re not gonna meet at the skatepark later?” I call back, leaning over the table to peer into the living area.
He doesn’t come into view, instead opening the door to the garage. “Naw. I promised Tabby I’d take her to the mall.”
It’s an effort to keep the hurt out of my tone. “Oh, okay.”
The garage door closes, and Kai’s presence disappears from within the house. His mother’s footsteps backtrack, and I slide down in my dining chair.
“How can he do that?” it mumbles out of Milo in a breathy tone.
I look across the table to watch Milo scribbling a note across the page. “Huh?”
He looks up. “What?”
“You said something.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah. Were you talking about Kai?”
Milo fidgets, averting his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say that aloud. I guess I’m too frustrated.”
“That was very composed frustration. Are you sure you and Kai are twin brothers?”
Milo laughs. “Been asking that for a long time. I just can’t believe he’s hanging with Tabitha.”
“You don’t like her?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know her. I just can’t believe he’d do it to you.”
I rear back with a frown. “I’m not into Kai, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“No, I know that. I meant because she’s mean to you.”
“Oh.” My shoulders slump forward. “Yeah. I don’t know what he sees in her. To be fair, she’s not as bad as the other two.”
Milo shakes his head. “She’s bad enough.”
I bite into my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. Why is it this brother saying these words? Why can’t Kai see Tabitha for who she really is?
“I dunno,” I say, straightening up. “There has to be something good about her. Kai wouldn’t be with her otherwise.”
Milo clears his throat and gives a slight nod. He lowers his head, giving his attention back to the page.
This is so awkward. I want to hang out with Kai and the other guys.
I want things to go back to normal. Hanging with Milo is such a drag.
But then there are those moments where it feels like I could dive head-first into a friendship with him.
Ugh. I gotta nip those moments in the bud as soon as they bloom.
Being friends with Milo? Not a chance.
Milo lifts his head and catches me staring at him. “Are you stuck?”
“Huh? Umm, no. I mean, yes, actually.”
Milo drops his pen and leans over the table. “Where are you up to?”
“Could you explain this section to me? I’m not sure if I’m getting it.”
Milo grins. “Whoa. You’re up to there already? Nice job.”
“Oh, umm, thanks.” Why am I blushing?
Milo gets up from his seat and rounds the table. I mumble some useless sounds, leaning away from him. He sits beside me, regardless.
As he explains the symbolism of this quote, I get a whiff of his cologne.
Is that sandalwood? Whatever it is, it’s delicious.
The smell, that is, not Milo. I’m not thinking Milo is delicious.
Oh my gosh, why am I convincing myself? I know I’m not into Milo.
Now I’ve missed his explanation. Again. Oh, man.
He’s gonna think I’m so dumb! Ugh. Why can’t I just pay attention instead of being distracted by this dang boy?
“Got it?” he asks dubiously.
“You saw me glaze over, didn’t you?”
A breathy laugh puffs out of him. “You actually looked a little freaked. I know the language they use sounds daunting, but when you translate it into modern English, it gets easier.”
“Can you go over the motivation again? Slower?”
He smiles. “Sure.”
Okay, Jamie, stop thinking about how good he smells. Look at the page. Oh gosh, there are his perfect hands that put mine to shame. Is it bad that a boy has better nails than me? Although, according to Kai, I’m not even a girl.
Jamie! Pay attention!
I clear my throat, blink hard, and focus on Milo’s words. His sweet, melodic voice that somehow makes all this hard stuff makes sense. My heart throbs and my skin heats as I focus on his deepening tone. I swallow hard as he taps the page.
“Got it?” he asks, hopefully.
I smile and am sure I’m now in full blush-mode. “Yep. Thank you so much.”
“Anytime. You’ll get this stuff. You’re not dumb.”
Is he in my thoughts, or did I say that aloud before?
“You keep looking freaked out,” Milo comments. “Chill, Jamie. It’ll all work out.”
I swallow again. “Okay. Thanks.”
Milo moves back to the opposite side of the table, and I exhale hard.
Geez, I feel like I’m sweating. Why do my thoughts keep going down this road?
Is it purely because I’m stuck with Milo?
That can’t be it. I’m with the other boys all the time.
But hanging with them is by choice. Is that the difference?
It doesn’t even matter what my first choice is anymore. My free afternoons are supposed to be at the skatepark with the guys or finding somewhere to kick a soccer ball around. If I have to stay with Milo, I might as well try to make the best of this.
“With Kai gone, we could work on your soccer skills,” I suggest. I bite my lip and add, “Or, should I say, lack of skills.”
“Ha ha,” Milo mutters. “Are you just saying that to get out of studying?”
“No, I want to finish this, but you also need more help. Aunt Maddy doesn’t need me at the cafe, so I have free time to be here.”
“Don’t you usually hang out with the guys at the skatepark in the afternoons?”
I shrug. “Kai won’t be there. The other guys are probably hanging out playing a video game.”
“Well, if you’re game to teach me again, I’m in.”
We move onto my set of math problems, and I fight to stay conscious against Milo’s hypnotizing scent. They are relatively similar to yesterday’s homework, so once I tell the difference between dividing each side and minusing each side, he gives me the green light to leave the dining table.
“I’ll head to the garage and grab a soccer ball,” I say, launching from my seat. I’m well versed with the racks of sporting equipment lining the walls in Kai's parents’ garage.
Milo leaves in the opposite direction, saying he’ll change clothes and check on his cat.
When I collect a soccer ball, I slip out of my shiny black leather school shoes and put on a pair of Kai’s old sneakers.
They’re loose, but surely more comfortable.
I also grab one of Kai’s sweatshirts and pull it over my crisp white blouse.
I leave my shoes and blazer by my bag in the dining room and take the soccer ball outside.
While I wait for Milo, I kick the ball up and hit it with the inside of my foot. The ball lifts higher in the air and when it lowers; I hit it with my thigh. It bounces off and I strike with my opposite thigh.
“Whoa,” Milo mutters, meeting me outside. “You’re not making me try that, are you?”
I let the ball hit the ground and step on it to keep it in place. I laugh. “Somehow, I think it’s above your coordination level.”
Milo smirks. “Me too.”
“Why don’t you try dribbling?”
“Excuse me?”
I pass the ball to him, and to my astonishment, he stops it without tripping.
“Dribbling is where you run the field while maintaining control of the ball by kicking it ahead of you on each step.”
Milo kicks the ball towards me, toe first, and it spins out. “Show me first.”
“Boy, we gotta get you kicking with the inside of your foot, not your toes.”
Milo groans. “It is so hard to care about these little nitpicks.”
“I’m not nitpicking,” I respond. “It’s just technique. There’s a wrong and right way. No in between.”
“You’re making this sound like math.”
“Would it help you to think of soccer like math?” I ask, dribbling the ball across the grass.
Milo lowers on bended knees, watching me dribble. “Hang on, dribbling is kicking, right?”
I stop the ball and puff a laugh. “I knew there was a reason they call you a genius.”
Milo stands tall with a dubious look. “Well, I’m no soccer expert, but wouldn’t it make sense to teach me to kick before getting me to run and kick at the same time?”
It is a solid point. I roll my eyes and pass him the ball. “Good call.”
Milo sticks his leg out to stop the ball, but the ball rolls between his legs.
I slap a hand over my forehead. “Oh, boy.”
“Don’t act like I should’ve stopped that,” Milo says, retrieving the ball. “I only started practicing today.”
“I don’t get why you don’t practice at home. If you know you’re bad at it, why don’t you put in work like you do your other classes?”
“Because my other classes are actually important.”
I roll my eyes and walk over to him. “Whatever. Okay, let’s work on your position when passing a ball. You want to be square on the ball.”
He looks down at my body as I get into position beside him. “Square?”
His gaze gives me a chill and I shake out my limbs to compensate. “Think of it as a right angle.”
He snaps his fingers. “Ah, got it.”
“You want to aim your shoulder where the ball has to go.”
“That part always trips me up. I can’t coordinate my shoulder and my foot.”
“Honestly, Milo, there’s not a lot that doesn’t trip you up.”
“Ha ha.”
“Here, I’ll show you.” I demonstrate with the ball. “Aim behind the ball, angle your body, step onto the ball, and follow through.”
“We may as well be speaking Spanish,” Milo mumbles as I collect the ball.
“? No comprende, amigo?” I say in a terrible Spanish accent.
“No, I take French.”
Why did that just send a spark of energy through me? Every fiber inside me tingles. It’s the ultimate rom-com trope to have the male lead dole out some French. But Milo isn’t the lead in my love story. I’m still waiting for that guy to turn up in real life, instead of in the movies I stream.
I encourage Milo to practice passing, and it’s varying degrees of bad. With some more pointers, he nears an almost good kick.
“Jamie,” Mrs. Nelson calls from inside the house. “Your aunt has just pulled up out front.”
“Okay, thanks,” I call back.
Milo sighs. “Well, thanks anyway for your help.”
I give him an unconvincing smile. “I think I’ll be getting a better grade in math than you will in phys-ed. You’re a better teacher than I am.”
“I think I’ve proved over the years it doesn’t matter who teaches me this stuff. I’m a lost cause.”
I pat his arm for encouragement, but the maneuver comes off as awkward. “We’ll give it another practice this week. You’ll get it. Maybe. Hopefully.”
Milo laughs. “Thanks for trying. I’ll practice a little more before getting to my physics homework.”
“Yikes. Physics sounds daunting.”
He smiles. “It makes more sense to me than being out here. Theoretically, it should help me work out all this soccer stuff. It’s all angles, thrust, and velocity. But it looks like I won’t be an experimental physicist in the future.”
“You’re too smart for your own good,” I say, heading for the back door. “I’m really lucky you’re tutoring me.”
When he smiles and waves goodbye, I enter the house, scolding myself for letting tingles run throughout my body.