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Tenderness overflows inside me. I slide my fingers through his thick black hair and bend to kiss his head.
I’ve never imagined a moment so intimate, so loving. I could almost cry, but I’d feel stupid crying when I’m so happy.
I love you.
Now the words are so hard to keep in, but I don’t want anything to ruin this. I don’t want him to stop and freak out about me being clingy or taking things too seriously. I just want to feel him inside me, joined as close together as two people can be.
I’m ready.
I’msoready.
My phone lights up again.
“Goddammit,” I whisper.
I don’t mean to, but it’s so fucking annoying because Milo lets go of me and I was enjoying that embrace so much. It felt like pure love, and I’ve never known that feeling before.
“I’m going to turn it off,” I tell him.
I’m so irritated as I grab the phone, I almost don’t bother looking to see what the notification was, but my gaze catches on an all-caps message from my mom that reads, “YOU BETTER FUCKING ANSWER ME.”
My stomach drops. There are 19 notifications layered beneath it. Why is she sending me so many texts?
I swipe it open just to make sure nothing is seriously wrong.
I scroll up to the first message and scan through them quickly. She sounds drunk or sad, maybe both. She started off bitching about Larry because they were in a fight, then she spiraled quickly to “fuck him then he can leave I don’t give a fuck,” which led to “I should just fucking die, nobody cares about me,” and “my own fucking daughter doesn’t even answer my texts.”
I feel a knot of dread lodge in my gut. I read more quickly through the rest of her emotional tirade. When she went long enough without a response, she started getting pissed, and that’s where we are now.
I type back quickly, “I wasn’t ignoring you, I didn’t have my phone on me. Are you okay?”
When I sigh, Milo asks seriously, “Is everything okay?”
No, no, no.
I can feel myself about to ruin it.
It’s not with those three little words like I was afraid to.
I’m already apologetic when I look at him. “It’s my mom. She’s being…”
Fuck. I don’t know what to do.
I can’t just leave her like that, but I can’t interrupt our night to talk my mom through an emotional meltdown, either.
“I’m sorry, I’ll… I can probably still… I just have to see what she says.”
He sighs, too.
He knows this isn’t going to happen.
That makes me feel even worse.
Regret swallows me up even though I just stepped into it. I tell myself I’m not in as deep as it feels, that I can get back out.
“I promise, we’ll still do it, I just have to make sure she texts me back first. She was saying some really messed up stuff.”
If we were still going to do it before, I killed it by saying that. I can see it on his face.
