Page 2 of Stepbrothers with Benefits
Sighing, I tucked the phone away and squatted in front of him, looking him over. The pads had been a good call from the looks of the parts of him that hadn’t been covered. There were tears in his jeans, and even his jacket had taken some hits. There was definitely some blood, but at a glance, I didn’t think there was anything worth worrying over. How he was holding his right arm as if it shouldn’t be allowed to touch anything was a lot more worrisome.
“That’s what you’re going to go with?” I asked him dryly.
“It’s fine,” he protested.
“Uh-huh,” I said and leaned in to poke his arm with my fingers, snorting when he winced, leaning away from me. “So you’re just feeling extra sensitive for no reason then?”
“C’mon,” he whined, and actually tried to stick his bottom lip out like a toddler rather than a man who’d legally been allowed to drink for almost four years now. “It’s fine, don’t you trust me?”
“With my life? Absolutely. With yours? Not so much.”
“That’s fucking rude.”
I snorted. “Now, tell me the truth, or I’ll just start dialing 911 right now.”
“You wouldn’t,” he said with wide eyes.
“Bet,” I said, pulling out my phone and holding it up.
“Ugh,” he groaned. “But?—”
“Tick tock.”
He gave another indignant huff and rolled his eyes. “It might be sprained...maybe.”
“Urgent Care?”
“We can just go to the nurse’s office.”
“Bro, this isn’t elementary school anymore.”
“First aid station?”
“Or a ski resort.”
“You know what I mean!”
I rolled my eyes and reached for his left arm. “Alright, c’mon then. Let’s go see what you screwed up this time.”
“Please tell me you got all that on tape,” he asked hopefully as I pulled him to his feet, adjusting my grip when he wobbled.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I asked dryly. “If you had been half a foot to the left, I’d be calling a coroner, helmet or not.”
“Okay, but I didn’t hit it, so?—”
“Ugh, come on.”
I led him back to the path where we both almost fell on our asses from the ice that lingered. Milo grumbled about it as we shuffled along. “You’d think with all the money they get from us, they’d be able to deal with the ice better.”
“Well, how would they pay for all their new flowers that die after a few months?” I asked. “Or that overhaul of the welcome and student centers?”
“God,” he said with a laugh. “All that gold and red, you’d think they were trying to decorate the first-class section of the Titanic or something.”
I didn’t know if that was how first-class arrangements were on the Titanic, but I knew better than to ask after his logic. Sometimes people tended to look at Milo and all his...Miloness, and assume he was a bit of an idiot. Which, he was, there was no mistaking that, and anyone who knew and loved him would be reluctant to deny it, though they would happily rip you a new asshole for assuming you could say it so freely. He was incredibly smart, and while there wasn’t always a logical reason why he knew what he knew, he knew quite a bit.
People who didn’t know him were often surprised and confused about why he knew something like that, but those who knew him best knew better. Milo’s brain didn’t make a whole lot of sense, even to those closest to him, but you came to expect the unexpected. The guy could barely remember what he’d eaten the day before, but he could quote a movie line he’d seen five years ago, recite a random fact from a documentary he’d seen last month, or sometimes just have a blank look on his face when asked why he knew that and shrug.
Maybe some part of his brain had been working correctly because we weren’t that far from the medical center. He could still walk, but I could see he was favoring one of his legs, which meant he hadn’t given me the full scope of his injuries, which...yeah, sounded like Milo. I could never decide if it was some vain attempt on his part to seem tougher by not giving away an injury, or if he was trying to hide just how badly his idea had come back to bite him in the ass.
