Page 79 of Loverboy

“That’s pretty gay.”

But Jasper didn’t laugh.

“For once in your life, stop running away from what’s good for you. I’m telling you—”

Bzzt. Bzzt.

Jasper cursed under his breath, glancing at the intercom inside. I should have stayed and let him finish what he had to say, but I was already halfway through the sliding door. He grabbed my wrist and tugged, trying to pull me back over the threshold.

“Milo.” His voice was shaky, riddled with everything I was trying to leave unspoken.

The buzzing persisted, followed by a flurry of text message notifications ringing out in my pocket. Whoever it was thought this was urgent, and I needed to escape. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Jasper as I shook him off, slamming the balcony door in his face and barreling toward the intercom.

I always ran away. It started when I was twelve, cozied up in bed next to my best friend during a sleepover. He’d whispered that he liked me, and all I could do was freeze up and pretend I was already asleep, even though I’d liked him too.

He’d never brought it up again. Maybe Jasper wouldn’t either.

My heart pounded in my ears as I reached the intercom. “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, it’s me. Oliver.”

My pulse slowed. “What do you want?”

“To talk. Apologize.” He sounded sincere.

“You already did, like thirty times over text.” I glared at the little speaker on the wall.

“Please,” he begged. “Just hear me out.”

I dared to steal a glance at Jasper, who was still standing there on the balcony. His cheeks were flushed, his jaw tight as he leisurely put out his cigarette. I could go back out there and hear the rest of what he had to say, or I could run away from it.

“Okay,” I said quietly, buzzing Oliver inside.

35

Milo

OF ALL THE mistakes I’d ever made, this one was the worst.

There were two soft knocks at the door before it creaked open, and Oliver appeared in the doorway. I stole another glance over at the balcony where Jasper was still lingering outside, hands stuffed into his pockets. Our eyes met through the glass, and he quickly looked away.

“Hey, Mi.”

I whipped back to Oliver, my heart on the verge of cracking open with regret.

“Hi,” I said stiffly.

The door closed behind him, but he didn’t move to take off his shoes. He knew he wasn’t truly welcome, and I took more pleasure in that than I probably should have, because I was still pissed at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve said.”

He looked down at the floor, clenching his fists.

“I shouldn’t have slept with him,” he acknowledged.

“I know,” I bit out.