Milo #2
I hide in my room to give myself more time to cool off until the notification comes to my phone requesting access to the elevator for the concierge. I approve it and bring my suit downstairs.
It’s hard not to miss the disappointment I feel when I don’t see Rowan. The door to the spare bedroom is firmly shut, making me wonder if he’s called it a night without even telling me.
The elevator dings open, and I accept the bag of new clothes and hand over the suit I most definitely shouldn’t have jacked off in, and give him a generous tip for the urgent request.
The man leaves with a beaming smile and a promise to have the suit back by morning. If the stars align, I’ll have the suit back before Ray arrives and questions me on why I needed to get it cleaned in the first place, and none will be the wiser.
Well, besides me, but that memory can live in the depths of my mind, never to be mentioned again.
I return to my giant L-shape couch and flop against the side that’s facing the large windows. It’s true I bought the place because of the breathtaking sunsets, but the night view isn’t anything to sneeze at either. It’s a field of black with tiny lights sparkling as if you’re in outer space.
It’s quiet here. Completely different from my days of living with the boys when MYTHS first started out.
Those days weren’t bad, though. We’d all been working toward something beautiful.
We all had the same goal, for which we were willing to sacrifice.
Some, as I learned later on, had sacrificed more than others.
Sully comes to mind, and I know I need to call him. I can stall for a couple of hours, but not all night. Not when Tate is genuinely worried.
I am too, but I’m also battling guilt I still haven’t let go of.
Even if Sully forgave me, I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.
But his well-being is more important than whatever self-blame I’m feeling, so I pull up his contact and hit call.
The ringing feels like it goes on forever, each one adding another notch to my anxiety until the line finally connects and I can release the breath I’m holding.
“Hello? Milo?”
Sully’s voice sounds groggy and rough with sleep.
“Hey. Shit, sorry, did I wake you?”
It’s only nine, meaning the night has only just started for me, but Sully doesn’t live the pop star life anymore.
“No, it’s fine. I should be thanking you, actually. I’ve been sleeping all day and would’ve been up in the middle of the night at this rate,” he says with a chuckle that breaks out in a coughing fit.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Just sick.”
“Sick?” The panic is back. Sick can encompass so many things.
“I’m sick” were the exact words Sully used the day MYTHS disbanded for good. What if it’s the same? I’m trying to mentally go through my connections to see if I can fly anyone out to him tonight.
“With the flu,” Sully quickly interjects, halting my thoughts. “It’s just the common flu. I’ve been sleeping it off and will be right as rain in a couple of days.”
“Oh.”
I can’t hide the audible sigh of relief that comes out of me.
Sully chuckles.
“I’m fine, really. I have full control of my body, well, except for this damn flu. This, I did not choose.”
I chuckle too, mostly to ease the tension in my body.
“Tate is worried about you. Says you haven’t been picking up.”
There’s a beat of silence before Sully replies, “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping a lot. I’ll…I’ll message him back, so tell him not to worry.”
Even if he’s not in the room with me, I can sense the shift in his mood.
“Did you two get into a fight? Did he do something to make you angry? Tell me if he did and I’ll…I’ll slap some sense into him!”
That earns me another chuckle. “Oh, you will, will you?”
“Hey! I’ll have you know I held my ground tonight against Lance Mercer. I can totally take Tate on.”
More snickers ensue. “He still trying to get in your pants?”
“Tate? I didn’t know he was trying to, but he might as well give up, because that’s only happening if hell freezes over.”
“I meant Lance, you idiot.”
I smile at the affection in his tone, even if he is calling me names.
“Yep. Still laying it on real thick.”
“That bastard doesn’t know how to take a hint. You’d think after a year, he’d get it into his head that you’re not into dudes.”
More silence falls between us, this time coming from me.
Ray was the only person involved with MYTHS who knew about my sexuality. We’d both agreed it’ll be better for the band that way, since being gay wasn’t exactly widely accepted back then.
Now there are a lot more artists and celebrities coming out and showing the world who they truly are, but things were different when MYTHS first started out, and I never saw the need to rock the boat.
Which is why people I’ve spent half a decade with still don’t know I’m gay.
I suddenly wonder if I should tell him the truth, but the thought is interrupted by a coughing fit from Sully.
“I should let you rest your voice. I hope you get better soon. I’ll see you for dinner when you’re in town next week?”
“Thanks, and yes. See you next week.”
I end the call and just about scream my lungs out when I see a large white shadow looming in the corner of my eye.
The body turns around to reveal a freshly showered Rowan. He’s usually in dark clothes, so I almost didn’t recognize him in my white bathrobe.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you were on the phone and was about to head back into the room, so I didn’t disturb you,” he says apologetically.
“No, it’s fine. I was just distracted by Sully.”
“You got a hold of him? That’s great news, right?” he asks, smiling. My heart is still racing from the earlier scare, and his smile is only making it worse.
“Yeah. He’s been sleeping the flu off, so that’s why he hasn’t been answering Tate,” I explain, even though Rowan didn’t ask. He nods anyway, and then we’re standing there staring at each other.
“I saw the guest room door was closed and thought you already turned in for the night,” I say, mostly just to say something.
“Oh, yeah. I was taking a call,” he answers, rubbing the back of his short red hair. It’s still a little damp, so tiny droplets splatter from the action. “My niece saw pictures of us together tonight and was giving me an earful about not telling her earlier that you’re my newest client.”
“Why? Is she not a fan?” I tease.
“Exact opposite, in fact. Reagan will probably say she’s your biggest fan. The, um, biggest Itty-bitty?”
I snort at the nickname my fandom has chosen for itself. It’s supposed to be a play on my last name, and I do have to admit that it’s cute calling my fans my Itty-bitties.
“And what about her uncle? Is he an Itty-bitty?” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
“I didn’t even know what that was last week,” he confesses.
“Are you saying you haven’t been stalking my career since the beginning? Why, I never!” I say with an offended hand on my chest.
As I hoped he would, Rowan laughs, and I’m once again struck by the beauty of the giant man in front of me. The man who is probably naked under that robe…
And oh no. We’re not going to head down that dangerous path again.
“They delivered the clothes earlier. They’re in the bag over there,” I say and point to where I left the bag by the coat closet.
He mumbles a “thanks” and gathers the bag to return to the room. I bite my tongue to keep from suggesting he could just change here, out in the open—and in front of me—so I can find out if that smattering of red hair peeking through the robe extended all the way down his chest and more.
The hair on his arms and legs is blond and is just a shade lighter than his tan skin, but the little peek of chest hair I saw is the same ginger as the hair on his head. I need to know if the rest of his body is the same too.
So you see, getting him naked is all for science!
I need to consult with Ray on how likely that statement would scare Rowan into quitting. He always tells me it’s safer if I keep my mouth shut, and when it’s work events, I’m really good at that, but it’s hard around people I’m comfortable with. And Rowan makes me feel comfortable.
Probably a little too comfortable, if I’m being honest.
He makes me feel just as cozy as Rowan looks when he returns to the living room in his new PJs.
I can’t hold back my snort at seeing the black shirt stretched across his chest, the sleeves stopping at his mid forearms. The PJ bottoms look like they fit well, besides the fact that they stop mid-calf.
I requested the largest clothes they could find, and they still fit him like clothes that have shrunk in the dryer.
“I’m actually surprised they found something that fit on such short notice, and they’re really soft too,” he says and rubs his hands over his flat stomach.
It only stretches the fabric even more and pulls the bottom to confirm that…
yep, the hair on his stomach is the same color as that on his chest.
That instantly stops my laughter, because now I’m focused on the trail of hair that leads down into his pants and…
I jolt when my phone dings, but I quickly grab hold of it to hide how flustered I am.
“Food’s downstairs,” I squeak out and hop to my feet.
“Sit, I’ll get it,” Rowan says and uses those damn long legs of his to grab the key fob I hung by the entrance and disappear into the elevator before I even have a chance to protest.
I flop back on the couch, hug a pillow over my face, and scream into it. I’m certain now: there’s definitely something wrong with me from the way I’m lusting after this man.
I spent years of my life not needing anyone but my hand, and one look from Rowan is making me act like a cat in heat. Not just that, it’s the affection he pulls from me that’s growing larger than I want to admit.
There’s definitely something wrong here. Ray’s voice in my head tells me I’m too trusting and to think about the last guy I almost fell for.
The warning bells are loud, yet when Rowan’s face appears behind my eyelids, it’s music that rings in my ears instead.