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“Is it expensive wine?”
He furrows his brow.
“I mean, is it like a thousand-year-old wine that only rich people like you drink?”
“No.” He snorts. “It’s a fifteen-dollar bottle of white I got at Duane Reed.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “No shit?”
“No. But it is somewhere in between the two. I have a lot of money, but I’m a pretty simple guy, Maybe.”
“A simple guy with a driver and a doorman.”
He laughs. “I never said I don’t enjoy some of the luxuries money can buy. But I don’t make a point to be extravagant in everything I do.”
“I know.” I smile at him. “And I admire that about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” I admit. “I read an interview with you in the Times, and I was pleasantly surprised with your responses about living off ramen noodles and Kraft Mac & Cheese for the first few years of your company.”
“I’ve forgone the ramen, but,” he says and opens the pantry, “I’ll never quit the occasional Mac & Cheese.”
I snicker when I see no fewer than ten blue and yellow boxes of Kraft sitting on the center shelf.
“Only a crazy person would quit Kraft.”
“Exactly.”
Together, we carry the wine, plates, and takeout bags into the living room and sit down beside each other on the couch.
Once we’re both settled, and our plates are covered with delicious Mexican, he turns to me with a grin. “So…the surprise…”
“What surprise?” I question. “There’s supposed to be surprise…?”
He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Fine.” I grin and set my plate on the coffee table. “But prepare to be excited. You are in for the most enlightening night of your life. Do you have Netflix?”
He nods and hands me the remote.
It doesn’t take long before the opening credits of the Gilmore Girls are vibrating from the speakers of his flat screen hanging on the wall. I sing along to the song, and Milo glances at me in confusion.
“This is the surpri—” he starts to say but stops when the title of the show is revealed on the screen—Gilmore Girls. “Wait…it’s a TV show?”
I snort. “Of course, it’s a TV show.”
“I thought you were talking about real fucking people.”
“I wish I were talking about real people!” I exclaim and grab my plate. “Oh my God, if Stars Hollow were a real place, I’d move there quicker than you could say ‘Where are you going?’”
When Lorelai and Rory start doing their Lorelai and Rory thing on the screen, Milo glances at me with a raise of his brow. “So, we’re going full-on chick flick kind of vibes tonight?”
“You bet your sweet ass, we are.” I nod and take a big bite of my taco. “I mean, we’re not going to be able to watch all of the episodes tonight, but if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to get through the first half of season one.”
“How long are the episodes?”
“An hour or so.”
“And how many seasons?”
“Seven.”
“And each season wouldn’t happen to be one episode long?”
“Don’t be silly. There’re at least eight episodes per season.”
Milo sighs and I giggle.
“You’re such a Luke, it’s not even funny.”
“Who is Luke?”
I waggle my brows. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Grumpy. You’ll find out real soon.”
I leave out the whole part that Luke Danes was my fictional man crush from the very first episode of the Gilmore Girls. Or the fact that Milo Ives was my real-life man crush from the time I was like ten years old.
Yeah, let’s just leave out those minor details and enjoy the food and the company and the show.
Two episodes into the Gilmore Girls and Milo throws the white flag.
“All right,” he says and picks up the remote from the coffee table to put episode three on pause. “I think I need a little Stars Follow break.”
I laugh. “Stars Hollow.”
“Yeah. That,” he says and lies back on the couch like he’s been forced to run a marathon. “My eyes and ears just need a break.”
I giggle again. “You want me to head out so you can get some sleep?”
He shakes his head. “I fear if I go to bed now, I’ll dream about the fucking Gilmore Girls.”
“You’re so Luke, it’s not even funny.”
Milo glares at me. “I am not Luke.”
“Oh yes, you are,” I retort and pick up a pillow from the couch to playfully smack against his chest. “You’re surly and cranky and grumpy. Exactly like Luke.”
“I am not.”
“Trust me, Milo,” I say with a little grin. “In your old age, you’ve grown into all of those things. Just face the facts, buddy. You’re no longer bad boy Jess, you’re Luke Danes now.”
“Who the hell is Jess?”
“You’ll find out in season three.”
“I’ll have to watch it from the grave because I don’t think I can survive much more.”
I giggle.
God, he’s adorable.
And sexy.
And I can’t stop my eyes from moving up the length of his body. Up the denim covering his firm legs, over his zipper, over the barely visible lines of his toned abdomen.
