Page 67 of Just a Distraction

I’m trying not to be disgusted with myself that I had the audacity to fall asleep right before the Battle of Helm’s Deep. And I call myself a true fan!

He’s run out of room on the first sticky note, so there’s an arrow pointing to the next one.

I guess you fell asleep, too? Or maybe you went to bed after I zonked out. In any case, what really bothers me is that I missed out on spending time with you.

That’s the unforgivable.

And on another couple of sticky notes:

I look forward to hearing how Callum likes his new crib. And praying that we put it together in the right way. Maybe I should come over and sleep in it first to make sure it’s okay.

I laugh at that image. If he tried that, it most certainly wouldn’t be okay anymore.

Sidenote: Benson brought a stack of Fantasy novels with him from Seattle! I can’t believe my long-lost brother is a fellow fan. I about fell off my chair when I saw him reading one the other night. Made me like him that much more.

Can I see you tonight?

Love,

Milo Kazoo Tate

P.S. Those K names were good guesses, but no cigar.

P.P.S. Are you ever going to satisfy my curiosity over the ice-cream cone thing?

But this sticky note? I will save this one for the rest of my life:

P.P.P.S. Thoughts of you drift into my consciousness, and I’m lost in a deep warmth, Rose. You are the canopy for my loneliness. The hewn cup for my parched hunger. Your simple glance stops time.

I swoon. I have to clutch the back of a kitchen chair to keep from slipping to the floor in awe of this man and his poetry.

Poetic words about me.

For me.

For the rest of the day at work, I’m grinning like I’m fourteen and in love for the first time. Hoping I run into him. Wondering if I’m going to see his gorgeous face at every corner I turn. Thinking about kissing him again.

It’s been seven long months since the best kiss I’ve ever had. I want it to happen again.

I know. I know.

I shouldn’t. The distraction that is Milo Tate is becoming so much more. I can contain it, though, can’t I? When I move to North Carolina, I’ll be so busy, I won’t have time to miss him.

Right?

We text throughout the day and my perma-grin just keeps getting bigger with every flirty or funny thing he says. He even texts me a photo he took the other night of Callum blowing a spit bubble with the caption: “I can’t stand his cuteness.”

He texts me again, asking if he can pick me up from my place and take me and Callum out to dinner.

I respond with one of those GIFs that show a goofy guy jumping up and down with the words YES in bright, bold letters.

It’s nearly time for my shift to be over when I head upstairs to clean the loft room that Milo and his brothers hang out in—my last thing to do before the weekend starts. It’s next to Milo’s little make-shift office and I wish I could knock on that door and hang out with him instead.

Like the adult that I am, I choose to do my job, and I step inside the loft, my duster in hand, when I overhear voices in Milo’s office.

“So what that she has a kid? Maybe this will help him grow up.” It sounds like one of Milo’s brothers, though I have no idea who.

My heart starts to pound. Are they talking about Milo? Are they talking about me?

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