Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Starlet

For the past few weeks, Milo turned in almost 70 percent of his missing assignments. He showed up to our study sessions each day without complaint, too. He gave me some of his sass and sarcastic remarks, but I was learning that that was just who he was as a person. I liked the bark behind his comments because I knew they didn’t hold any true malice.

Some days he’d share a few details about his mom, and others, I’d share about mine. It felt like a safe place for us to talk about things that many people our age didn’t have to deal with.

After one of the nights I shared with him, he frowned, shook his head, and said, “No thirteen-year-old should lose a parent.”

“You shouldn’t have lost yours either.”

“Life’s a bitch.”

Another day, he told me that for weeks after his mother passed away, he’d walk into the kitchen, close his eyes, and pray that once he opened them, she’d be back there whipping up his breakfast.

He didn’t know it, but I cried in my car for him after he shared that fact. My heart ached for him and the things he’d lost when his mother passed away. He was a shell version of himself, which was heartbreaking. I wondered what he was like before the heartbreak. I wondered what it was like for him before he lost his way.

Starlet: I have an idea for your photography class final project.

Milo: Am I going to hate it?

Starlet: There’s a good chance you’ll hate it. But that’s just because you seem to hate everything.

Milo: You’re not wrong.

I smiled down at my phone as I sat on my dorm bed. Sometimes, I wondered if it was okay that I smiled the way I did when Milo’s name popped up on my phone. Or I was playing a dangerous game that would end like a Shakespearean tragedy.

Milo: What’s the idea, Teach?

Starlet: The assignment is to showcase an emotion or feeling. I want it to be as authentic as you are, and I want it to be your truth at this moment. I think that would be best.

Milo: Which would be…?

Starlet: Empty. Coldness. Closed-offish.

Milo: I’m glad you’re discovering who I am.

Starlet: I’m a quick study. So your theme would be winter. We have plenty of snow around, and even if you wanted to travel up north for some photos, that’s a possibility since they’ll have more. I can go with you on these shoots to help you stage the photographs and whatnot.

Why? Why did I offer that? Why did I want that? Why did I want to find reasons to be around him when I wasn’t supposed to be? Why did I wish for more days, more hours, and more minutes with Milo?

I waited patiently for Milo to come up with some sarcastic remark or tell me it was a dumbass idea. But all he said was…

Milo: Cool. I’m in.

Cool, I’m in.

Nothing more, nothing less, yet somehow it was a lot more than I thought I’d get.

He then sent a photograph of his completed math homework, which I looked over. Every answer was correct. I’d quickly learned that Milo wasn’t unintelligent. He might’ve been one of the smartest individuals out there. He simply didn’t apply himself. After learning about his mother, I understood him a lot more, too. I didn’t want to learn those first few years after losing my own mother. I didn’t want to feel anything. If it weren’t for my father pushing me, I wouldn’t have made it, if I were honest.

It felt good to be that person for Milo—the one in his corner. He was a gifted individual. He just had to find his way back home.

What I didn’t expect was how protective I’d become of him. One afternoon when Mr. Slade handed out graded assignments, he set Milo’s in front of him and said, “One day, I’m going to find out whose homework you’re copying, Mr. Corti. Mark my words.”

“He did it himself and earned that grade,” I blurted out without thought.

Mr. Slade turned and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me, Ms. Evans?”

I swallowed hard, feeling all eyes falling on me. “I just think that’s an inappropriate comment to make toward a student.”

Mr. Slade’s brows knitted, and he let out a short breath. He looked around at the students. “Everyone, open your books to chapter twenty-two and start reading for the remainder of the class.” He then turned back to me. “Ms. Evans, let’s speak in the hallway quickly.”

He pulled me out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him. He then crossed his arms and gave me a stern stare as if I were the student he could discipline.

“Ms. Evans, I would prefer if you did not question my teaching in front of the class. It shows a lack of leadership and is completely unacceptable. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.”

His bushy brows lowered, and he went to head back inside.

“It’s just—” I started.

“It’s just what?”

“I’m Milo’s tutor, and I have helped him with his homework and watched him put in the time and effort. So to have his teacher belittling him when he does well can be harmful to his self-confidence. You’re supposed to help them be confident. Not berate them when they’re struggling.”

He grumbled under his breath. “So young, so naive. Please speak to me on the matter after you’ve been doing this for over thirty years. Until then, Ms. Evans, know your role and do not step out of it. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, but I truly meant no. The rage building up inside me from his belittling dismissal of my feedback was enough to make me go to war. That was exactly why I wanted to become a teacher. To help the students who might’ve run into the Mr. Slades of the world and lost belief in themselves.

We walked back into the classroom right as the bell rang for the session to be over. I stood at the front door, smiling at the students as they exited. As Milo walked past me, his eyes locked with mine. His arm brushed against my shoulder, and he whispered, “Thanks, Teach.”

I wanted to say always, but instead, I stayed quiet.

I showed up at the library before Milo that afternoon. Sometimes I worried he might be a no-show. When fifteen minutes passed, a knot formed in my stomach. Thankfully, at the twenty-minute mark, Milo texted me that he was on his way.

When he came walking in, a sigh of relief found me.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mentioned, placing his backpack on the table. He took a seat. “Had to stop at the gas station.”

“No worries. You weren’t that late.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to keep from hurting my feelings.”

I parted my mouth to speak, but before I could, he pulled out a few items from his backpack—a pack of red licorice and a Diet Dr Pepper.

I arched my eyebrow.

He shrugged. “I noticed you snacking on them the past few days in class.”

My heart skipped a few beats, which it shouldn’t have been doing when it came to Milo Corti. Then again, hearts didn’t really care when the mind told them to behave.

“Why did you get those for me?” I asked.

“Because you stood up for me, and I appreciated that. I was going to get you flowers but didn’t know if you liked flowers or what your favorite kind was.”

“That’s sweet. This is perfect, though unnecessary.”

“My mom would’ve wanted me to do it.”

“Your mom always sounds like a wonderful woman.”

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Speak about the dead in the present tense as if they’re still here.”

My lips pursed. “Oh. Yeah, that is strange. It’s just that when my mom passed away, I’d talk about her as if she were still here, using the present tense, and it stuck with me. I didn’t even realize that I do it with others who’ve passed away.”

“I like it.”

I arched my eyebrow, surprised. “What? Milo Corti likes something?”

“A glitch in the Matrix .”

“I love a good Milo glitch. They entertain me.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’ll be sarcastic and rude again in no time.”

“Don’t rush it,” I said. “I kind of like this version of you.”

His eyes met mine, and I swore I almost saw a curve to his mouth. Did he almost smile at me? And it wasn’t one of his sass-packed grins I’d receive when he realized he was getting underneath my skin. No, it was a genuine one. Milo’s genuine smiles were few and far between, so whenever one slipped out, I felt as if I were being spoiled. His almost smile was enough to make my own lips turn up.

He lowered his head, breaking our connection. “I wish you didn’t do that, Teach.”

“Do what?”

“Smile my way. It messes with my brain.”

“And why’s that?”

His head slightly rose. His normally intense and cold stare was now soft, gentle, timid even. “Because when I see your smile now, I’m reminded of your smile from the night we met. And when I think about your smile from the night we met, I think about—”

“Milo.” I interrupted him.

He tossed his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. We don’t talk about that. But…” He leaned across the table, clasping his hands together. “We do daydream about it, don’t we, Teach?”

Yes, we do…

My hands trembled as I tucked my hair behind my ears. My tongue rolled across my suddenly parched lips as I broke our stare. An internal battle raged inside me. I knew my thoughts about Milo were inappropriate. I knew my mind had secretly crossed the line of professionalism, but I couldn’t stop it. Sometimes I’d blink and recall my hands on his body…his lips on my chest…my legs dangling against his shoulders… I’d have to shake myself physically to escape the spell he cast over me. I was good at being responsible. I never walked jaded lines...not until him, at least. What kind of wizard was Milo Corti, and why did his magic enchant me so well?

I cleared my throat. “Take out your math book, please. We’ll go over the assignment due tomorrow.”

His wicked grin came back. I hadn’t seen his sinister smile in some time now, and for some reason, it felt a little bit good to witness it. Sarcastic and rude Milo was what I’d prefer over heartbroken and struggling Milo.

After completing our tasks for the afternoon, Milo pulled out a flyer from his backpack. He placed it in front of me, and I looked at it.

“The Apostle Islands are supposed to have cool ice caves. I figured maybe I could do some shoots up there for my photography class.”

“Oh, that’s way up north, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I figured it might be worth the hike. It’s about six hours away.”

“Very neat, Milo.”

“Do you want to come with?” he asked. “I know you mentioned you used to hike a lot with your mom, and the hike to the caves is about two miles. Plus, it would be nice to have someone help with the gear and set up the shots. There’s a cheap boutique hotel we could crash at for a day, then drive back. I can even drive it if you don’t want to.”

“You want to stay at a hotel?” I commented, a bit flustered by that idea. “Together?”

He smiled. “If you want to share a bed, just say that, Teach.”

“Milo, stop,” I sternly stated out loud, but inside, my thoughts began to sprint. My face heated as my mind imagined what that situation would look like. Me in his bed, pretending not to feel what I felt. Trying my hardest not to have our arms accidentally brush against one another as we twisted and turned throughout the night. That seemed like a recipe for trouble.

“Separate rooms,” he offered.

Why did a sliver of disappointment trail through me?

“Of course, separate rooms,” I echoed, hoping he couldn’t read my body language. “And you’d want us to drive together?”

“Figured it made sense to save on gas.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that an issue?”

Yes, Milo. Of course it is. It’s completely unacceptable.

Instead of saying that, I stumbled over my words. “I mean, well, it is part of your assignment…and I did offer to help you, so I guess that makes sense.”

No! No, Starlet! That definitely does not make sense.

“Like a field trip of sorts,” I presented, trying to resolve any self-guilt I was battling.

I was hit with a push and pull of conflict in my chest after he asked. Yet most of me wanted to go. I wanted to see the ice caves. I wanted to hike. I wanted to spend a weekend with Milo.

That was the most troubling truth about it all.

“Great. Two weeks from now?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied. I said it so freely, too, as if I wasn’t making a terrible decision. What about that man made me want to make bad life choices?

As I stared at him, my chest tightened slightly. His expression had shifted to something I hadn’t seen often from him. Did he seem to be…smiling? A real smile, too, slightly bashful even. The dash of anticipation that leaked out from behind his normally sarcastic and mundane expressions made my own lips curve up. Milo was such a professional at using sass to cover up his true feelings, so for me to catch that smile slipping out seemed like a major deal. Was he nervous about the trip, too? And was he excited? Did he get the same kind of butterflies as me? How dangerous were the two of us together becoming?

“I’ll book the two hotel rooms,” I offered.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be cuddle buddies?” he teased.

“Shut up.”

He smirked. That sarcastic, crude, annoying smirk that tossed my stomach into a frenzy of butterflies was back from the somewhat timid smile he accidentally shared. I hated it.

Sigh.

I loved it. I hated that I loved it.

The truth was, I loved every kind of smile and every kind of grimace that he shared with me.

“You’re never going to stop bringing up the night we hooked up, are you?”

“No, probably not. I like the way it makes you bashful.”

“I hate you.”

“Good,” he said, shoving his stuff into his backpack. “It means you still know how to feel.”

I rolled my eyes at him repeating the words I said back to me. How did he even recall that when he was wasted out of his mind?

“What will you tell your dad about being gone for the weekend?” I questioned as I stood and collected my things.

“Trust me. He won’t notice.”

That made me sad for him.

I already knew my father would ask me a million questions about the trip, and I didn’t even live under his roof.

“Have a good night, Milo,” I told him as I walked past him to leave the study room.

“What’s the answer?” he said.

“The answer to what?”

“Your favorite flower?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But what if it did?”

“Milo—”

He stepped closer to me, the points of his shoes brushing against mine. His head bent down, and his mouth grew wickedly close to my ear. He moved in slow motion, or perhaps his mere existence seemed to slow down time. His breath tickled alongside my neck as he whispered to me. “What if it did matter, Teach?” His words, the cadence, and the timbre of his tone caused goose bumps to erupt along my spine. His nearness, heat, and intentions all combined to make my heartbeats intensify. My breaths grew choppier as he held his proximity to me.

I stood tall even though I wanted to melt into a puddle of nothingness. I wanted to behave badly with the bad boy who turned my world upside down solely with his presence. My tongue lapped over my thirsty lips before they parted, and I murmured, “Peonies. I love peonies.”