Page 45 of Isolation
Am I experiencing Stockholm syndrome, or is Milo really thatsexy?
I wish there was a scale to measure this.
Ma’am, here is your captivity vs. attraction report. It indicates that your assailant is good looking. I repeat, your assailant is very attractive, and you are not experiencing said syndrome.
I laugh in my own head, and Milo gives me a look. He hates it when I get lost in my head.
Instead of asking me what I am thinking, he tries to pull me out of it like he always does.
“Okay, big spender. How are you going to afford making that dress when you are spending all of five dollars on a tank top?”
“I plan to rob you while you sleep and then make a run for it.” I keep my eyes trained on my sketchbook, but I can’t help the smirk that breaks out on my face.
“You mean you are going to make alimpfor it with that crippled leg of yours?” Milo pokes at my leg.
We look at each other for a beat and then burst out laughing. It’s not an awkward laugh but a belly aching “haha” laugh. It’s been forever since we have laughed like this.
“I’ll slow you down before making alimpfor it,” I sass back. “Maybe I’ll knee you in the nuts before I rob you.”
“Ouch,” Milo fakes being in pain as he covers his crotch with both hands. “Such vile thoughts from such a respectable young lady.”
“I am no lady. I am depraved.”
“No, you are cute.”
“Shut up,” I quip.
Milo quirks an eyebrow and pauses. “Okay, vigilante, if you are done with your crime spree for the day, should we order some lunch? I am starving.”
“Sure, I could eat.”
Milo looks at me quizzically.
“What?” My eyes are still on my sketchbook, but from my peripheral vision I am aware of his stare.
“You are being so agreeable. This is the first time you so easily agreed to have a meal with me.”
“Want me to be disagreeable? Fine. Go choke on a dick, Milo.”
Milo chuckles; this time it’s an even deeper laugh. “It’s just eerie, that’s all.”
“Don’t get used to it then.”
“I wouldn’t dare. I don’t want you to have the luxury of eating regularly and getting fat.”
My brows shoot up to my forehead, but a smile still tugs at my lips. “Are you body-shaming me? Does that mean you’ll restrict my food order? Tell me that you will at least spend five dollars on me for lunch.”
Milo grins from ear to ear. “I can’t afford all of five dollars. I’ll let you order from the dollar menu. You can work your way up to the five-dollar meal status.”
“I don’t deserve such extravagance,” I say sarcastically.
“Nothing but the best for you.” He quickly reaches over to give me a peck on the cheek.
“Ugh!” I give him a dirty look and wipe the kiss away, which just makes him smile even more. I dig the sharp end of my pencil tip in my thigh in order to jolt myself awake. Even with an Ambien, I couldn’t sleep more than two hours last night.
I stare at Milo as he calls the restaurant to put in our food order, a feast fit for a king.
Milo is happy. Chipper. Sweet. Jesting. Milo is being fun and funny. By everyone’s account, these are characteristics Milo hasn’t displayed in years.
