Chapter Six
Rupert
I rearranged the throw cushions on my sofa for the third time in ten minutes, catching myself before I attempted rearrangement number four and wondering if Milo would even notice that I’d moved them.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, my fingers stroking the back of Lizzie’s head to stop them from touching the cushions. She was draped around my neck in her second-favourite scarf configuration, watching my nonsensical cushion reorganisation with lazy fasciation.
She did like to explore the cushions sometimes, draping herself across the top of them or sliding in behind them with only the tip of her nose poking out.
I’d nearly sat on her once when she’d done that, and she hadn’t been impressed.
So now I remembered to check for python noses every time I sat down, even if she was in her terrarium or on my shoulders.
“Milo won’t even notice! And I… fuck, there are still things in the sink from this morning.
How did I forget those?” I threw my hands into the air, stalked over to the kitchen and began washing things frantically.
Thankfully I’d remembered to put my washing away last night, because the last thing I wanted was for Milo to see my underwear.
That was a line I was not ready for us to cross.
People always thought ADHD was just hyperactivity and a “squirrel brain,” and it was hard to explain it was so much more than that.
It was the forgetfulness, the distraction, the time blindness, the rejection sensitivity, the trouble regulating my emotions coupled with anxiety, the choice paralysis, and the difficulty with relationships—of any kind—and the all or nothing attitude which had, at times, consumed my life.
Half the time it felt like I was barely functional, scraping through life with nothing but some faked confidence and a “don’t look behind the curtain” persona. Because if people only saw the carefully constructed view of who I was, then they might like me. And that was all I wanted.
If they saw who I really was—sharp, moody, distracted, and anxious—then there was no way they’d like me. Years of experience had already taught me that. It was better to put on a mask, carefully manipulate people’s perception and hide all my flaws. Then I’d be safe. Lonely, but safe.
It was a high price, but one I’d keep paying because it was better to be alone by choice than discarded in disgust when the real me came to light.
So, why I’d invited Milo around—again!—and why I kept messaging him was a mystery. It went against everything I’d tried to do to protect myself. But I couldn’t bring myself to examine my reasons too closely.
There was a chance I wouldn’t like what I saw, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that.
Luckily, I was saved from my own thoughts by the bell from downstairs.
Stacking the mug I’d been washing on the draining board, I quickly dried my hands and walked towards my front door, hastily grabbing my keys as I threw it open and rushed down the stairs.
I still had Lizzie around my neck, and she’d tightened her grip with the turn of speed, but I knew Milo wouldn’t be unhappy to see her.
Not like the poor DPD driver I’d once nearly caused to pass out. Which I still felt awful about.
“Hey,” Milo said as soon as I opened the heavy downstairs door, a delighted smile on his face.
“And you brought my new bestie too! Good evening, Miss Bennet!” He did a little half bow, tipping an invisible hat to her, and I laughed, ignoring the strange pang in my chest at the way he’d called Lizzie his new best friend.
I didn’t even want Milo as my best friend! Why was I upset he’d used that term about someone who wasn’t me? I should be thrilled that he loved Lizzie so much.
“She’s been helping me tidy,” I said, stepping backwards to usher him inside. “She gives very good opinions on cushions.”
Dammit! Why had I said that? Now Milo would definitely know I’d moved the cushions on the sofa around. Fuck, I was such an idiot.
But Milo just beamed, like nothing I’d said was remotely odd. “That’s because she’s the most beautiful and helpful girl on the planet.”
“I’m glad you agree.”
“It’s one thing we’ll never disagree on.”
I smiled, the tight feeling in my chest slowly starting to unravel as I beckoned Milo to follow me up the stairs.
He had a dark orange cool bag in hand, and a matching beanie on his head, and I couldn’t help but think how much the colour suited him.
Both literally and metaphorically. It was warm and vibrant and soothing all at the same time, reminding me of sunsets across the bay and the dried orange garlands I hung over Christmas.
“How was your day?” I asked as we climbed, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other instead of turning around to look at him. The last thing I wanted to do was trip and faceplant the stairs. Lizzie would not appreciate it.
“Eh, it was fine. Pretty quiet. Alfie’s off on Tuesdays, so it was just me out front, and Darcy and Owen were deep cleaning the chiller. Didn’t really have much to do. How about yours?”
“Could have been worse,” I said. “We’ve started taking orders for Christmas hampers, which always do well but are a bit of a pain to organise.”
“Because they’re complex or because people are arseholes about them?”
“Er… the second,” I muttered as I opened the front door. “Most people are lovely but—”
“There’s always a couple of dickheads?”
“Yes. I probably shouldn’t say that though.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Milo said, shooting me a wink as he undid his boots.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I dunno what it is about Christmas, but it turns so many people into absolute, raging cunts. And not the serving cunt kind, the wanker kind. Like, it’s one day, and I get that people want it to be perfect, but come on!”
I laughed. “How many Christmases have you worked in retail?”
“Too fucking many. And hospitality. Fuck me, people can be dicks.” He shuddered dramatically, then straightened, putting on a deadpan expression and affected tone, hand out like he was holding an order pad.
“Yes, ma’am, it is a set menu and has been available to look at since September.
No, I can’t get you something off menu because you don’t like turkey or beef or whatever fucking vegetarian option it is, and didn’t tell us until you sat down.
No, sir, I’m just the staff, I’m not personally out to ruin your Christmas.
I’m not paid enough for that. Ah, a two-pound tip on a hundred-and-fifty-pound bill, how generous of you sir, I can buy a pot noodle!
Not name brand though, can’t let me get ideas above my station. ”
More laughter bubbled out of me and I had to put my hand across my mouth to muffle the sound. But Milo looked thrilled that I’d laughed, his whole face lighting up with sheer delight.
“I like it when you laugh,” he said. “And I like knowing I can make you laugh too.”
“Oh God, you’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you? You’re going to try it all the time.” I groaned, putting my face in my hand to hide my smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun with someone. It was nice. Really nice.
“Not all the time, otherwise it would get boring. The trick with good comedy is timing. Now, can I hold Miss Bennet please? I’m dying over here.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” I said, gently unwinding Lizzie and lifting her off my shoulders as Milo pulled his beanie off. His hair was starting to come through as light brown stubble, and I was surprised by how quickly it had grown.
“I might be. You don’t know.”
“I doubt you’d be the sort to suffer in silence,” I said as I carefully placed Lizzie on Milo’s shoulders, my fingers brushing over the patchwork fleece he was wearing again. I ignored the way it made the tips of them tingle slightly, as if someone had run a gentle current through them.
“Hmm true. But mostly it’s because I want attention.”
I stared at him for a second as he stroked Lizzie’s scales. I hadn’t been expecting him to admit that.
But… I appreciated his honesty. It made another warm feeling curl around my chest, and I felt myself smiling despite the shock.
“What?” he asked, grinning at me as Lizzie climbed up the side of his head to her new favourite perch.
“Nothing, I… I just… I didn’t expect you to be so honest.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, actually. I like it. It’s helpful. I, er, I like knowing where I stand with people.”
He tilted his head slightly, then stopped when he realised it would upset Lizzie. It looked like he was trying to figure something out about me, but what he’d realised he didn’t say. “That always helps.”
“It does.” I nodded and looked around for a second, wondering if I should ask him what he was thinking. But that might be too much, and I didn’t want this to feel like an interrogation. “Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve got some chocolate biscuits too.”
“Cup of tea sounds chuffing lovely,” Milo said. “Oh! I’ve got some ice cream too. If you want that instead of biscuits. Or we could have both.”
“Ice cream would be amazing, please. What flavours did you bring this time?” I asked as we wandered through to the kitchen. Milo put the cool bag on the counter, with Lizzie sitting on his head, and began pulling out tubs.
“More strawberries and cream, and some cinnamon and white chocolate, and I think that’s… yeah, that’s chai,” he said as he opened a smaller tub and nodded. “It’s not really proper tubs, just odds and sods. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise, it’s still ice cream.”
“True.” The way he smiled at me was dangerous. It made me want to lower my walls and believe, for a second, he might actually like me.
And that was never going to happen.
“I’ll, er, I’ll put the kettle on,” I said with a half-smile, not taking my eyes off him as I reached for the kettle, grasping at thin air until I finally found the handle. “Spoons are in that drawer. Bowls are in the cupboard above your head.”
“Sounds good. But if you’re not picky, we can just eat them out the tub.”
“Would you be okay with that?”