Page 31 of The Enemy Face Off

Milo:Damn, you type fast, lol

Beth:When you're good, you're good.

Milo:Not that I'm shaming her. She can share whatever she likes, it's just a lot.

Beth:She can. And she looks great, so why not flaunt it, right?

Milo:I guess.

Beth:What do you mean, you guess?

Milo:She's attractive, sure, but not really my type.

Beth:What is your type?

Even re-reading this thread all this time later, I'll never forget the heart palpitations I had after sending that text.

I was on pins and needles, waiting for him to reply, watching those three bouncy dots appear then disappear about eight thousand times before his reply finally came through.

Milo:My type is snarky bookworms who enjoy teasing me, make adorable little noises they might not even be aware they're making, and look great in black-and-white joggers, not unlike the ones you were wearing the day I inspected the house.

I'll also never forget how I felt seeing that message, a heady combination of happy and excited and nervous and confused.

Even though it was only a text message, I couldfeelthe sincerity of what he was saying.

It wasn't a line.

It wasn't something he doled out to countless girls in countless cities to get them to sleep with him.

He meant it.

Although I was slightly confused about thelittle noisesreference. I never got around to asking him about it, but I don't make little noises…do I?

My eyes drift back to the screen.

Milo:Just don't tell anyone I'm not into beautiful airheads. I have a reputation to maintain

I scroll past a ton of photos of his children, more of my digs about his man bun, him sharing a link to an article about thehistory of the termcul de sac, me sending him a few strongly worded memes back.

Okay, so maybe they're not your average,hey, would you mind if I borrowed your ladder?neighborly texts.

They're veering into flirty territory. Yes, I see that. Despite being staunchly anti-love, I'm not completely oblivious.

But as it turns out, Milo might not be the big grump the world—and until recently, me—thinks he is. He's earned that reputation because he's quiet and reserved until he gets to know someone, along with his killer instinct on the hockey field. Rink? Arena? Whatever it's called.

Does he have an overinflated ego? He's a pro-athlete so the answer is, of course he does. He needs to. You don't rise to the top of any field by being humble and demure. You have to believe in yourself more than anything because the world is cutthroat, and if you don't have your own back, you won't get far.

But underneath that exterior, lies a gentle giant.

A gentle giant I enjoy exchanging occasional flirty texts with. That I can handle.

It's fun and friendly, but it's also safe because there's some distance there.

Just like there's literal physical distance between us now since Milo is currently in Tampa Bay to play against the…whatever the Tampa Bay hockey team is called tonight.

And as long as there's distance between us, I'll be fine.

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