Rowan
I chug another bottle of water, and my mouth finally doesn’t feel like the Sahara Desert.
I’m touched Milo went through all the effort to make me croissants, but I’m pretty sure he mixed up the salt and sugar. The extra-salty flavor didn’t help the dryness of the pastry.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him his croissants were, in fact, not successful since he was so proud of them. And as I’d been adamant about eating them all, he’ll never have to know just how unpalatable they were.
Plus, it’s the thought that counts, and this one went straight to my heart. I’ve never had anyone make me croissants before, especially not someone who barely cooks in the first place.
The man makes it hard to keep my distance. He’s just too likable, and fucking sexy as well.
Memories of his naked body pressed against me float to the forefront of my mind, and I’m thankful nobody is paying attention to me right now. They’re all focused on Milo, who’s sitting in the makeup chair as the production team does one final touch-up on his makeup before his live TV appearance.
Milo is sparkling and lights up every room he enters. So either I have problems with my eyes, or they did something to him with makeup that makes him look entirely too ethereal.
I’m leaning toward it being a me problem, because nobody else has pointed out the fact that he’s turned into a human light bulb.
He’s so radiant, almost blinding to my eyes, but I can’t look away. My gaze follows every one of his movements, even during his short interview with the host.
He has his professional mask on now. It’s the one he wore the first time I met him at the airport. A face of perfect smiles and charm turned on to the max.
I hadn’t realized it at first, but now that I’ve gotten to know Milo better, I can pick out the subtle differences between his genuine smile and the one he uses for his fans. Milo might say his work persona is fake, but both are still him. Just different parts of him that make up the whole.
He makes easy conversation with the hosts and doesn’t look the least bit concerned that everything is being broadcast live right now. Milo tells a story of a fan excitedly coming up to him and asking for a signature, then thanking him and calling him Yury, which has the host laughing in good humor.
I’ve seen a photo of MYTHS together, and the only similarity between Milo and Yury is their light-colored hair and height.
The host moves on to asking about his newest single and practically begging for a sneak peek of Milo’s next project.
Milo zips his lips and only gives up that he’s working on something magical.
I think back to the music I heard the morning after I stayed a night, and magical just about sums it up.
The song might be incomplete, but even I, a casual listener of music, can see that it has the potential to top the charts.
The interview portion of the show lasts only a few minutes, then Milo heads backstage to change for his performance.
He returns in a silky white top that splits in a perfect V to reveal the top half of his chest, and black pants that might have been pasted on him. When he goes under the spotlight, his radiance is now brighter than a thousand fucking suns.
Then he opens his mouth to sing, and it’s like a siren’s call. His latest single is an upbeat song about finding your dream. I have a feeling that he has become the dream for every single person watching live right now.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
A voice rings out beside me, startling me. I glance over to find Ray. He’s watching Milo intently too.
“He is,” I agree.
This isn’t the first time I’ve heard Milo sing in person, but it’s different now. It’s the same face, same body, same voice, but on stage, he comes to life. It’s like he’s put his soul into every single part of the song.
“The first time I met Milo, I knew he was something special,” Ray comments softly. He’s still watching Milo’s performance with a gentle smile on his face. And for once, Ray is calm and still.
“He definitely has the looks, but that’s not enough to survive in this business. There’s a sparkle about him that attracts people, don’t you think?” he asks, casting a glance at me.
The words feel loaded, like Ray is aware of my bubbling emotions. I don’t answer—I can’t—but that doesn’t stop the look of understanding that passes across his face. Like he can see everything I want to keep hidden.
“Milo is popular, that’s for sure. People want to be around him, and Milo doesn’t like being alone. But don’t let that fool you. Despite his easygoing personality, he doesn’t let people in easily. He’s only allowed a handful of people into his heart.”
He’s lonely.
Ray doesn’t say the words I’ve been thinking out loud. The solitary figure, all alone in his giant penthouse. It’s unimaginable for someone wanted by so many people.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I ask quietly.
He turns his body toward me, and despite the dim lighting of where we’re standing, I feel his gaze dig deep into me.
“He’s quite friendly, isn’t he? He’s like that to everyone,” Ray says instead of answering.
I’m confused about where he’s going with this. Is he trying to tell me I’m nothing special? Or is he trying to warn me off?
He’s continuing before I can say anything. “But when he does let someone in, it’s different. He puts his entire heart into it—into them. He opens himself up, like when he’s singing, and that means he’s open to getting hurt. And after what happened with Jamie—”
He stops himself, and I internally scream that this is the time he chooses to stop talking? Who the fuck is Jamie? And what the hell did he do to Milo? My hands clench at just the thought of him hurting Milo in any way.
“The point is, I don’t like seeing him hurt. Do I make myself clear, Rowan?”
The man barely reaches my shoulder, but the threat in his tone has me sweating. My guard is up, and my gut tells me one wrong answer will equal a lifetime of pain.
“I’ll keep Milo safe,” I say seriously. “I’ll make sure nobody ever hurts Milo again, including myself.”
This goes beyond my protective instincts as a bodyguard. Keeping him safe is now a personal objective, and I’m not ready to admit just how far I’ll go to protect that smile of his.
Ray’s intimidating glare immediately transforms into a broad smile. He pats me on the shoulder. “I have a good feeling about you, Rowan, and my intuition is usually correct. Case in point: our boy there.”
“Thank you?” I reply, but Ray’s entire focus is already back on Milo, who’s wrapping up the last part of his performance, and I’m left more confused than ever over this strange conversation.
Why did it sound like Ray’s aware of something I’m not? And why the hell did it seem like he was almost giving me his blessing…to be with Milo?
Worst of all, why did the blessing make my insides feel all light and fluttery?
That’s not me.
I don’t get mushy over emotions.
In all my previous relationships, I’ve always been able to keep my head about me. I shouldn’t be surprised that Milo turns everything upside down. He keeps me on my toes, as I’ve learned.
There’s still a lot I don’t know, but one thing’s for sure: I must never let Ray and Riley meet. These two people, who somehow know more than they should, can never be allowed to team up. I can only imagine the horror that’d be unleashed if they do.
Milo hits the final note of his song, bending backward until his knees are folded, and he finishes on the floor.
The music cuts out, and there’s silence for a beat before the entire place explodes with applause.
Milo’s breath is ragged as he stands. The host walks onstage to shake Milo’s hand and gives him one last shout-out before Milo’s part of the segment is over.
When he’s given the all-clear, he looks around the room until he spots us. Then he’s flashing his pearly whites and running to us.
Just like every other time when Milo’s focus is on me, everything else slips away. The world consists of me and him, the man currently running toward me. I want to spread my arms to catch him.
A throat clearing to the side stops me before I can move. It catches Milo off guard, too, and his pace slows and shifts just a fraction so it looks like he’s not heading for just me.
“Great job out there, goblin.”
Ray’s compliment is met with another brilliant smile that is then pointed at me. Milo looks up at me expectantly. It’s physically impossible to go against those sparkling eyes.
“You shone like the sun out there. I couldn’t look away,” I tell him truthfully, and ignore the pointed gaze I feel coming from Ray. All that matters is the soft, bashful expression Milo wears at my words.
“Go change and let’s get out of here,” Ray orders and pivots toward the dressing room. The man is halfway across the room in seconds flat. He’s always walking like he’s on a mission.
Milo doesn’t follow immediately and glances at me instead. We share a smile like we’re both in on the secret before striding to catch up to Ray.
We enter the dressing room, and Milo quickly changes. He left the penthouse in jeans and a T-shirt that does nothing to protect him from the weather. The only saving grace is that he’s at least wearing a jacket this time.
My jacket.
“I didn’t have time to ask when we arrived, but what are you wearing? Where did you even buy this leather jacket?” Ray asks when Milo finishes dressing.
I can’t meet either of their eyes. Milo didn’t offer my jacket back after the day I lent it to him, and I haven’t asked for it either.
I think I like seeing Milo in my clothes.
Why is he so damn adorable?
“Oh, you know. I just picked it up somewhere.” Milo laughs off Ray’s question.
“Sure, but why are you wearing it? It looks like it’s wearing you instead of the other way around.”
Milo shrugs. “It smells good,” he says nonchalantly.
I’m still looking straight ahead and pointedly not at them. My heart is racing. It’s my fault for having ears and hearing Milo admit that he likes how my clothes smell. My imagination is running wild.
Maybe he likes the way I smell?
Ray is rightly unconvinced, but he doesn’t push the matter. We make our exit, stopping every few feet so Milo can give his autograph to fans from the live audience and some staff who’d secretly sneaked over for one too.
It’s another thirty minutes before we finally make it out to the car. Milo heaves a sigh and sinks into the back seat. Ray gets in the spot beside him and pulls out his phone. I uncap the water bottle I grabbed for him and hand it over.
“Thanks,” he says as he accepts it and chugs it back. He must be thirsty after his performance and all that small talk with his fans. I don’t know how he does it without breaking a sweat or dropping his smile.
“Remind me again where you got the jacket?” Ray suddenly asks.
“Why are you asking?” Milo hedges.
Ray looks up from his phone and narrows his eyes between the two of us. Fear shoots down my spine, and I know something is wrong.
I’m proven right when Ray slowly turns his phone around to show us what he’s looking at.
Three images take up the entire screen. Two of them are Milo.
One of which looks like he’s at a grocery store with Jack, and the other one must have been taken just moments ago, as it’s of the three of us walking out of the building.
In both photos, Milo is wearing my leather jacket.
The last one is a picture of me walking beside Milo when I picked him up from the airport, and I’m wearing—yep, you guessed it—my leather jacket.
“Congratulations, you two officially have a ship name. The article went out ten minutes ago, and #roloforever has already been tagged over a thousand times,” Ray says and massages two fingers over his temple.
“Ship name? Rolo?” I ask, unsure of what these terms mean.
Whatever it is, it can’t be good if I’m being pictured in an article with Milo.
“A ship name is when fans want to see two or more people in a relationship and mash their names together to create a name. In our case, ‘Rolo’ is probably taken from the first part of your name, Rowan, and the last part of my name, Milo,” he explains to me in a very calm manner.
Meanwhile, I’m feeling anything but calm. It takes a second for me to really process his words.
“So you’re saying there’s over a thousand strangers out there who want us to be together, like together, together?”
Milo shoots me a dopey smile. “I guess we’re just too stinkin’ cute, and everyone and their mom can see that.”
I nod without really thinking.
More like my body moves to agree without my consent, because Milo and I are not together.
We agreed to be friends, and that’s it.
“Be that as it may, this is going to be a media nightmare. Don’t you think you should have come to me, your manager, about this so we could at least have a plan on hand?”
Ray flicks Milo on the forehead lightly enough that Milo doesn’t even blink.
My head is still swirling because why is no one pointing out the fact that Milo and I are not together?
You’re not correcting them either.
“You really live up to your name, goblin. There’s never a moment of peace with you,” Ray continues.
He types something on his phone before slipping it into his pocket.
“I’ll have to head into the office and take care of this.
We need to get your publicist on it sooner rather than later. You two go home and stay there.”
He opens the car door again and is out the door, speed-walking away, before I can even offer to drive him.
Milo doesn’t blink an eye at Ray’s speedy exit. He climbs over the center console to slide into the passenger seat.
“Looks like it’s just you and me.”
He grins toothily at me and buckles himself in. He snuggles into my leather jacket and brings the sleeve up for a sniff.
And all I can think is, oh hell.