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“Not glaringly bad? You’re going to give me foot insecurity. I’ll have you know I used to sleep with this guy who loved toes and thought I had particularly sexy ones.”
“Oh my God! What did he do with them?” He looked at me wide-eyed, as if he didn’t know what to think. There was interest there, and maybe a little disgust too.
“I’m sure you don’t want to know.” Shit. Why in the fuck had I mentioned it?
“I do,” Milo replied. “If you want to tell me, that is, and I really hope you do because…I mean…toes.”
Again, I found myself laughing. “First, don’t knock other people’s kinks. Second…Jesus.” I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly embarrassed. He had the ability to make me feel that way when I typically didn’t. I glanced his way. Milo was still walking but watching me expectantly, and damn, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“He liked to suck on them. What else would he do with them?”
“I don’t know. You’re attractive, but I definitely don’t want to suck your toes. Do you like that? Is that what you want guys to do to you? Did you do the same to him? Isn’t it gross?”
“Okay, we’re getting off track here.” I pointed toward the restaurant. “That’s where we’re going.” Only Milo didn’t move. He was rooted to the sidewalk, so I stopped too. His head angled down, and there was no doubt in my mind he was going through the topic of our conversation.
“Sorry,” he said, “but they just don’t do it for me, and I don’t think I can move until I know if they do it for you. Not because I’ll judge you, but because, oh my God, I have to know. How can I not know?”
A woman and her daughter walked by with ice cream cones, looking at us like they weren’t sure what to think. I honestly didn’t either, but it was refreshing. I sighed.
When they were safely out of earshot, I said, “No, I don’t expect that, and it doesn’t particularly turn me on, but turning on my lover does, so it was hot for me because he liked and got off on it. No, I didn’t return the favor, and also, I will never, ever wear flip-flops around you again. My toes feel like they should go into hiding.” I curled them down.
For the first time, I heard Milo laugh. It was smooth and clear like his voice, this little burst of happiness that made me feel the same.
He started walking toward the restaurant, and I followed. “They’re not terrible toes.”
“I didn’t use to think so.”
“Did I really make you insecure, or are you joking?”
I nudged him with my arm. “I’m joking.”
“I can’t always tell.”
“Eh, I can’t either. People are hard to read sometimes. Nothing wrong with that.”
Again, Milo openly stared at me. He didn’t try to hide it, or his look of concentration, the slight downward curl of his lips, which I could tell wasn’t an unhappy frown, just a confused one, like maybe he was searching for some kind of answer.
“You’re different,” Milo said.
“I think the same thing about you.”
“Yeah, but most people think that about me. Do they with you?”
The question made my thoughts stumble slightly. Milo made me think in ways I wasn’t familiar with. “Yes and no. I stand out in my family. I’m not like them. Then being the only queer kid around growing up, that kind of thing. But I don’t think that’s what you mean.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not.”
When he didn’t add anything more, I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I motioned toward the Lighthouse. “Are we going to go in so you don’t get hangry?”
He startled. “Wow…I forgot to even get mad about being hungry. Why did you have to remind me?”
“Well, then hurry, let’s go before it’s too late.” I put my hands on his shoulders and steered him toward the door.
Milo chuckled, opened it, and we went inside.
He took a couple of steps before stopping without notice, and I ran into him. “Shit. Sorry.”
“It’s a little loud in here.”
It didn’t feel that way to me, but I knew it would be later on. “Too loud? We can go somewhere else.”
“No, it’s fine. Maybe we’ll just hurry?”
“Let’s pick somewhere else.” The last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable.
“It’s okay. I know you’re trying to be nice, but I said I’m fine. Believe me, I’ll let you know if I’m not. I need you to trust me when I say something. I don’t like it when people push or try too hard to fix things for me. If I can’t handle something, I’ll say so.” I hadn’t meant to do that, and I think he could read my discomfort on my face because he added, “I know you’re trying to be helpful. It’s just…important to me.”
