Bloom: A Boys of Bellamy Novel (The Boys of Bellamy Book 3) by Luhnow Ruthie

Author:Luhnow, Ruthie [Luhnow, Ruthie]
Language: eng
Format: azw, mobi
Published: 2017-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

Milo liked these quiet, early morning moments. Rory was still asleep—Milo always woke up before him—and he was dreaming, his eyes moving behind their lids. It had rained overnight, and the sky was low and steel gray.

Milo liked being able to just look at Rory, to see all the little mundane details that somehow combined to make Rory—the minute purple veins on his eyelids, the little mole hidden in his hairline at his left temple, the faintest traces of scars from long ago acne on his cheeks.

Rory murmured something and shifted, and then he was looking up at Milo sleepily.

"Hey," he said.

Milo leaned down and kissed his forehead by way of greeting.

"Thanks again," Rory said, rolling over and sitting up. The sheets were tangled around his waist and his hair was adorably tousled, standing on end.

"You don't need to thank me for fucking you," Milo said.

"No, I meant—well, that too, but—I meant for coming to the wedding."

"Of course," Milo said. "I had fun."

Rory paused, his eyes flicking down for a moment. He looked back up at Milo shyly, from under the gold-brown fringe of his lashes.

"I did too. My family really likes you."

Rory took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself to say something, and this made Milo nervous. He cast around frantically, trying to think of something to say to shift the conversation from whatever Rory was about to bring up, but his mind remained stubbornly blank.

"Do, um… do you want to do that again sometime?" Rory asked.

No, no, no, no—

"What, go to a wedding?" Milo asked, playing dumb.

Rory flushed.

"No, I mean like… go… out. Do something. Like… a date, you know?"

Milo felt like someone had just doused him with a bucket of ice water. Time screeched to a halt, anxiety wildly scrabbling in him like a cornered animal.

It was just supposed to be pretend.

Rory was waiting for a response, and Milo saw a whole spectrum of emotion flash across his open features—eagerness, hope, then hesitation and embarrassment as his face fell.

"Rory, I—" Milo said softly.

Rory's jaw clenched tightly, and he was looking resolutely down at the duvet. He said nothing.

Fuck, Milo thought. He'd been banking on Rory backpedaling, rescinding his question and apologizing furiously so Milo could comfort him as he sidestepped the question.

But Rory wasn't letting him off the hook this time.

"I had a lot of fun," Milo said at last. "But I don't think… I don’t think that would be a good idea."

Panic was creeping up his spine, prickling like a line of fire ants. Milo never should have let things get to this point. This was why he never let guys stay over. Someone was always left wanting more.

Rory wanted—deserved—kindness and affection and love. Milo couldn't give him that. He shouldn't have agreed to go to the wedding with Rory. Milo had fooled himself into thinking they could play at being boyfriends, that no one would get hurt.

He'd been so, so wrong.

He knew what Rory wanted, what Rory needed, what Rory was trying to ask for.

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