Page 71 of Milo

Headfirst.

I banish all thoughts, all feelings, all emotions out of my exhausted head as I mindlessly swim laps.

Back and forth. End to end. Swim. Just keep swimming. Focus on the temperature of the water. On form. On speed. On breathing. Nothing else.

Please nothing else.

My arms are weak, tired, almost trembling when I come up for air. My dry eyes burn from the treated water, from the graphic images that flash through my head in my sleep, from all the tears I've shed this past week.

I'm fatigued. So fucking deflated. But I have to keep on swimming.

I have to.

Closing my eyes, I inhale the tepid moist air, my muscles relaxing as my fingers coil around the perimeter of the pool.

I'm fine. Everything is fine.

A door slams.

My eyes spring open and I crane my neck toward the entrance. My knuckles clench, my insides turning as my heart drops into my fucking uterus.

Everything is not fine.

With a towel draped over his shoulder, Milo strides to the edge of the pool. My hedonistic eyes soak in every last inch of his exposed, tanned body; his wide shoulders, the defined shape of his lithe abdomen, his strong thighs, the thick trail of dark hair that leads to his massive taunting bulge. His expression is dangerously reserved as he stops at the fringe of the pool, slowly running his fingers through his tousled hair.

Oh, fuck me.

My nails dig into my palm, his hauntingly dark gaze locking with mine as he cocks his head to the side, studying me like I'm a mythical creature, a Siren in captivity.

"How is the water?" He peers down at me through his lush veil of lashes, his voice deep, steady, gruff.

"Tainted.” I push myself off the wall, floating backward. My heart flutters in my chest, my body tense, conflicted.

Space. I need space.

"Kiara..." he rasps, his intense gaze not leaving my face as he enters the pool. He hovers by the shallow end, not letting the water reach his shoulder. "You have been avoiding me for days."

He can't get his wound wet. How unfortunate.

"Take a hint."

With slow, covert movements, I swim backward, pushing myself through the teal water until I'm several meters away from him.

He licks his lips, taking a step closer to me, the water rising over the taut ridges of his pecs. "You cannot ignore me forever."

He's right. I can't. Sooner or later this cycle will have to break. But not now. Maybe by Friday, I'll be better. Maybe by Friday, I'll be calm. I'll heal. I'll recover.

Friday.

"Enjoy your swim.” I paddle over to the side of the pool and climb out, my body dripping wet, my hair pasted to my face. I avoid his gaze as I scramble to collect my clothes and wrap a towel around my waist.

"Kiara, please?—"

I don't respond. I don't look at him. I don't acknowledge his desperate plea for communication.

Fuck him.

And fuck me too.

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