Page 55 of Quarantined
We came back, the same day Mia came home. I missed her so much. There is an emptiness in the house when she is gone. Now, the house is full of life again. The moment she stepped in, somehow, this inanimate brick and mortar came alive.
Since she got home, she insisted that we spend every waking and sleeping moment together. We spent the week visiting all of our favorite New York City spots. Mia apparently needed to be re-acquainted with city life after being “locked away” on an island.
Her first night back, she insisted that all four of us have a slumber party in my room. She has both her brothers and me wrapped around her little finger. So we all gave in. Mia and I bunked on the bed, with the boys in sleeping bags on the floor. We cuddled, ate popcorn, watched crappy movies. There was so much teasing, jesting, catching up, sibling love. It was a connection we lost over the summer. One that I missed so much.
The night was magical, reminding me of simpler times. Everything was so normal, I almost felt like this thing with Milo never happened. Like I imagined it. Or maybe it's all a big misunderstanding.
Milo showed no signs of awkwardness or indications that anything had happened between us. He was utterly casual—up until he grabbed me for a breath-stealing kiss the moment Reid and Mia went downstairs in search of more snacks.
He let me go before they walked in, never uttering a single word to me. He went right back to being cool, calm, and collected. I had whiplash. Did that really happen? I was losing my grip on reality.
So when Mia woke me up early the next morning and dragged me out of bed for a girl's day, I did not mind. I needed an escape from my own mind. Mia is the only one loud enough to speak over the voice in my head. She is pure, honest, and wears her heart on her sleeves. It’s infectious. I don’t make bullet points in my mind or over-analyze when I talk to her.
This is not a dig at her intelligence or depth. It’s a good thing. She is a muscle relaxer, relaxing my tense brain muscles. And I needed her badly to feel sane again.
So I did not complain when she insisted on sticking by my side all week. I did not complain when we spent hours getting mani-pedis, makeovers, shopping. I did not complain when she wanted to have a slumber party every night to make up for the last four months. Face masks, girly movies, popcorn, staying up late, gossip. Bring it all on.
But my grip on reality started to loosen again when I caught Milo pushing the door open late at night the first time Mia slept over. I knew why he was there. But he didn’t expect Mia to be. Mia frowned at him and gave him a “Girls only, out please,” sass comment. He mumbled, “Why are the lights still on? It’s bedtime,” before heading back.
He came to my room almost every night only to find Mia sleeping in my bed. He'd leave without making a peep, but I could feel the look on his face. Impatient, and hanging by a thread.
And today, I have felt his eyes on me all day. Like he can’t wait one more second.
I should be flattered. Milo is the ultimate catch. Every girl my age would die to be with someone like him. Every girl his age would die to be with him. Or kill each other to be with him. Milo is the definition of the perfect man; men want to be him, and women want to be with him.
Yet, I have found myself avoiding being alone with him.
As always, I love Milo when we are all together, watching movies and having family dinners. I haven’t decided how I feel about the new Milo when he is just with me. Since I got back from Paris, there is a dark cloud surrounding us whenever we are alone.
A darkness that has no place or relevance, with the rest of Milo’s identity. It's causing his mood to be volatile, impatient, sexually charged. He feels like a ticking time bomb.
Chugging back my remaining red wine, I try to relax my nerves and push these thoughts back. I bring myself back to the party and focus on the conversation in front of me.
“... especially the heat. That was the worst.” Mia wraps up whatever lecture she was giving to the small crowd around us about why Grand Cayman is hell on earth.
I wasn’t listening. I didn’t need to. Mia has been complaining about Grand Cayman ever since she got back. Suffice it to say, she did not have a good summer. My guess? Her dissatisfaction had nothing to do with the island itself, and everything to do with Uncle Reese hiring a nanny to take care of Mia while he worked. None of us were there to keep her company either. I feel for her.
“Jeez Mia, how horrible for you. You got to spend a summer in paradise.” Reid teases.
Mia huffs. “If it’s such a paradise, why don’t you go there next summer and I will go to Paris?”
Asher laughs at Mia’s sass. “That’s a great idea,” he chimes in. “Maybe we can take a group trip to Grand Cayman next summer and stay at the Sinclair beach house for free.” He raises his beer bottle to clink with Reid’s.
Asher Huntzberger is here tonight. He is one of our family friends. He is also the first boy I kissed. A few times, to be exact. Throughout the years, we have remained good friends.
“And we will ship Mia off to Paris. You can be slave labor for Theressa.” Reid grins ear to ear. I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“That’s fine. I will get freeTheressa Beckett Specials, while you fuckers fry in the heat with sand in your ass.” Not one to back down, Mia drives her point home.
“Language.” Milo chides, as he joins the conversation. “And no one is wearingTheressa Beckett Specials.”
“You said bad words when you were my age,” Mia pouts and complains. “And Raven wearsTheressa Beckett Specials.”
“Hey asshole,” I elbow Mia, “way to throw me under the bus.”
“Ladies, please. Language. Show some decorum.” Milo’s exasperated attempts to discipline us are met with a round of laughter.
See? It's the Milo I love. How can you not?
