Page 25 of Dream Girl

“I’m not helping you to sleep tonight,” Milo says.

I peer at him briefly before stationing my eyes on the line in front of me. More people had come in, filling in the already long line behind us; the bustling shop is clearly dominated by couples with their happiness.

“I’ll be fine. The sugar energy will go away!” I exclaim with a grin; jitteriness shows through the way I shake in his hand.

I feel that it is the longest wait in my lifetime, and Milo had to distract me from drooling over the rich chocolate smell with his words. He’s not a vocal person by any means, but he doesn’t like to use his voice when we’re alone and for my ears only.

I like that. I like having him be mine as if nothing else in the world exists. This is what being in love feels like, and I would rather spend my time in this daily honeymoon than go out and meet new people.

Though, that would mean that we wouldn’t have met Eddie. I like that blond-haired man. He’s bright energy that counterbalances the gloominess around Milo. Eddie is a good influence and a good friend to Milo, and I want to buy him a Christmas present to show my gratitude for being so patient with my boyfriend even though many would have been turned off by the thought of working and getting hurt in the process of making Milo their friend.

I have been through that thorny exterior, clawing my way up the iron walls that not even titans can break through. As if anything with Milo is easy, and after the wall comes miles of blackness where I had to stumble around to try and find where his heart is.

It’s all metaphorical, but it basically sums up my pursuit of this man. Many would say that it is a man’s duty to chase after the woman, but I dove headfirst into a pool of squid-ink water just because my heart had a soft spot for Milo.

“Merry Christmas! What can I get you today?” the cashier asks, smiling big behind her Santa beard.

I ask for their shop’s themed attraction. Milo would absolutely not let me order two, so I take this opportunity to get him a coffee. He drinks nothing but water, and I want him to try something else too.

He prefers simple things and apparently, coffee has a flavor too complex for his taste. I just think it’s the nastiest thing I have tasted; the bitterness would always kick me in the gut when I try it. I want to like it, but it seems that life has different things lined for me.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Milo stands with me by the counter to wait for our drink like everyone else.

“New year, new you.” I shoot him a smile.

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but I can tell that it took him everything in him to hold back on doing so. Milo has little tolerance for stupidity, and unfortunately, I have an abundant amount of silliness.

“It’s not New Year yet,” he comments, impassive and monotonous.

I tap my excited fingers on his knuckles, propping my head on his strong arm and nuzzling to the jacket.

“Everyone knows that it is customary to have one week of New Year’s.”

“I don’t understand.”

I scratch my hair with my other hand, taking in a sharp breath and murmuring softly. “It’s kind of hard to explain. Christmas and New Year’s Day is so close to each other that sometimes it’s mingled in one holiday, but it’s celebrated as two different things.”

“That wasn’t hard,” he points out.

I watch as two people get their drinks and walk out; they couldn’t find seats, so everyone is getting their hot chocolate drinks in disposable cups which still fit the marshmallow without spilling the hot drink over.

“Sometimes Christmas themes spill over to New Year’s and vice versa.”

He thinks over it as more people get their drinks. Our number gets closer and closer while more people fill in the coffee shop; now they are making a line outside of the door.

“I see,” he slowly murmurs.

The barista calls out the number in my hand, and I quickly jerk away from Milo to hold my drink with both hands. This needs absolute balance and attentiveness as Milo takes his drink.

It’s a struggle to cut through the line of people, but we make it out without spilling anything on the ground. The hot drink is a warming defense against the cold as I take a sip, walking blindly with Milo beside me with his cup in his hand.

He hasn’t taken a sip yet as his eyes are focused on something else. I look in that direction, searching for what has his attention and it’s just a pile of snow. Cocking my head, I wonder if he’s seeing things that only can be seen with his type of military training.

“Milo?” I ask, curious when he stops walking.

A pinched twitch at the corner of his eye catches my attention. It’s too quick that I almost missed it. However, I am a Milo expert, and I know to look closely at everything he does as he never does things without a purpose.

“Let’s sit.” He tips his chin towards the unoccupied bench that no one, especially the abundance of people in downtown, is fighting over.

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