Page 37

“Don’t be an ass, Milo.” Jalen gestures toward me. “You’re just going to drag her grade down if you insist on being her lab partner.”

I’m about to call Jalen out on his rudeness, but the words die on my tongue when I see Milo’s reaction. His smile is gone. Not a trace of it remains.

“Are you saying I’m stupid?” Milo asks, the tension between the two boys almost palpable.

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…” Jalen shrugs. “The varsity jacket tells me everything I need to know.”

“That’s not fair,” I cut in before Milo has a chance to respond. “Just because he’s good at sports doesn’t mean he’s academically challenged. That’s a ridiculous stereotype.” I stare at Jalen, unable to hide my contempt. “You’re better than that.”

Jalen’s mocking grin immediately falls.

“I was just trying to make sure you passed this class,” he mutters. “But whatever.” He grabs his notebook and stalks off to find another lab partner.

The silence he leaves behind is noticeably heavier though. Milo stiffens beside me with square shoulders and a tight jaw. He continues watching Jalen even after he’s taken his seat. For someone who’s usually so upbeat and friendly, Milo’s change in mood is jarring.

“Don’t be mad at him,” I say quietly. “He’s just being overprotective.”

Milo lets out a slow breath through his nose.

“That’s not it. He knows you’re a big girl and you don’t need protection.” His voice is calm. “He’s just being a douche.”

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.” I nudge his arm with mine. “Just… let it go, okay?”

Without really thinking about it, I rest my hand over his. His glances down to where we’re touching, and the hard line of his shoulders softens almost instantly. Before I can pull away, his fingers slide between mine. Now it’s my turn for every muscle in my body to lock up tight. My pulse stutters somewhere around my throat as his thumb begins drawing slow circles over mine.

This is ridiculous. We’re just holding hands. So why does it suddenly feel like the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced?

“I won’t let you fail this class,” he says softly, his focus fixed on our joined hands.

“I know you won’t.”

A smile finally breaks across his face, warm enough to steal every coherent thought from my head.

I hate to admit it, but Milo is unfairly attractive. Not in the polished, magazine-cover way Jordan spends hours chasing. No. Milo looks effortlessly handsome. As if he rolled out of bed looking like this and somehow has the audacity not to acknowledge his good looks.

Milo’s dark curls are always a little unruly, falling over expressive kind eyes framed by lashes most girls would kill for, while the summers he spent working in construction with his dad have left his olive skin permanently kissed by the sun. Add in the lean muscle years of football carved into his body, and it all comes together in a way that should probably make him look a little intimidating. Somehow, it doesn’t.

Then there’s his smile. That sucker is the dangerous part. His whole face changes when he smiles. The little cleft in his chin becomes more pronounced, and a dimple appears in his left cheek. His features soften into something so open and genuine it’s almost impossible not to smile back.

Still, his good looks aren’t even the best thing about him. It’s who he is. I don’t think there’s a single person in Fairhope who has ever had a legitimate reason to dislike Milo Fletcher. He’s just so… good-natured. Almost to a fault. He gives people more grace than they deserve. Especially the Reds.

Sometimes I wonder if Milo is too optimistic and nice for his own good. I hope life never beats that out of him. It would be a damn shame if someone like him ever stopped seeing the best in people.

I only realize I’ve been staring—and mentally cataloging everything beautiful about him—when his smile stretches wider and his tongue briefly sweeps across his bottom lip.

“As much as I’d love to keep holding your hand,” he says, glancing down to the table, “this frog isn’t going to dissect itself.” He winks again.

Shit. I forgot about his winks. Those are fucking deadly too.

Heat rushes straight into my cheeks as I yank my hand away from his so fast you’d think I’d just touched a live wire.

“Funny,” I grumble, before hiding both hands beneath the table.

“I thought so.” He chuckles, propping his elbows up and resting his chin on his fists just to look at me head on. “Aw, come on, Max. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Who says I’m mad? I’m not mad.”

“You definitely look mad.”