Page 3 of Milo
“Not that I care,” Jacob says.
I rub my finger over the couch cushion. “He’s about your age, so ten years older than me. And I don’t go to his page every day or anything. I follow him, yeah. But it’s not creepy. I don’t think? Oh god.” I bury my face in my hands. “Is it creepy? I don’t actually fantasize about him. It’s weird to me. Fantasizing about real people. I just can’t. I just?—”
“It’s okay, monkey.” Jacob laughs and hands Rory back his phone. “Do you ever DM the guy?”
“Once or twice?” I mumble. “Not a lot. I don’t want to creep him out. But he has so many tattoos and one time he did a video on the condensed history of tattooing and did an arrangement with reds and yellows and blacks and it was beautiful and how could Inotmessage him about it?” Some days I ache to get back into tattoos, but others I’m content with my current artsy mediums not containing flesh and working at the bookshop. There’s never enough thanks in the world for Rory’s family taking Jacob and me in as if we were a part of them. Never enough thanks for them giving me the dream job of a lifetime, working with books.
“Chin up. I’m sure someday you’ll find your Daddy,” Jacob says. It’s still so weird for him to say shit like that. I remember the day we accidentally discovered each other’s kinks and I’m still deeply embarrassed about the conversation we had afterwards. Like yes, I totally want to talk about my kinks with my older brother the morning after he sees me wearing footiepajamas, clinging to a stuffed dragon, and sucking my thumb.Totallynormal thing for siblings to do. He’s a Daddy. I’m a Little. Nothing wrong with either. I just don’t want to talk about it with my brother. The man that raised me.
Rory hugs me again. “Speaking of Daddy. Have you had Little time lately? You’ve been more stressed than usual and that usually helps you some, doesn’t it?”
I nibble my bottom lip. “I may have neglected Little Milo the last month or so. I’ve been meaning to take the time to let him out, but I just haven’t.”
“Oh!” Rory shouts, and jumps to his feet. “Let’s go shopping for something fun for Little Milo, so you’llwantto play.”
“But I have the rest of my shift to finish out.”
Rory waves his hand around. “I’m the boss, well, one of the bosses. Don’t worry about anything, and I’ll give Logan three free hours later to balance things out. It’ll all be fine. Youneedthis, My My.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I square my shoulders and push to my feet. “Okay, let’s go shopping for fun stuff.”
Before we can skip out the door, Jacob stops me. “You’re okay?”
“Better than before.” I grin up at him. He’s damn near seven feet tall and I barely push the five feet five inches mark.
“Alrighty, have fun, you two.”
“Will do.” Rory grabs my hand and we’re out the door, trying not to trip down the stairs together.
Chapter 2
Clay
Isadora looksaround the empty apartment with her hands on her hips. “It’s so bland in here, but we can work with this layout.” She’s wearing an orange safety vest with her pronoun button stating She/Her over a trans flag background. Her nut brown hair is slicked back into a high ponytail, and just for me, she didn’t get her nails done this week.
“You know I appreciate you being here.” I look around my new start. I had to get away from New York City. Had to get away fromhimbeing around every damn corner. After six months, I’d finally had enough of seeing his face on every billboard. We’d grown apart, but it doesn’t mean it makes things any easier when we finally broke up.
“Clay, babe, I’m proud of you.” Izzy pulls me into a hug. “And I’m not too far behind.”
“I’ll be there with bells on to help you move, too, sweet cheeks.”
“Oh, I know it.” She gives me a wink before turning on her heel. She opens every kitchen cabinet before marching to the first bedroom, then the second. “Which one are you going to use for your studio? Or are you going to use one of the backrooms of your shop?”
“Maybe the smaller room and a spot in the shop? I think I like the idea of having two shooting locations. What do you think?”
“Sounds perfect. Keep people guessing where you are.”
“It’s not that hard to figure out. My new shop address will be on my website in just a few days.” Then let the floodgates open.
“Yes, yes.” She waves me off and opens the closet door of the smaller bedroom. “This is tiny.” A frown mars her face. “You might need more storage cabinets. That’s the only problem I can find. Lack of storage.”
“And no dishwasher,” I grumble.
“Ew, yeah, that too.”
I laugh at the face she makes. We’ve been best friends since high school, well before her transition. Izzy is the bestest best friend anyone could have, and I’m so glad she’s mine. We’ve stuck with each other through thick and thin. Through heartache and pain and fame.
When I started FlowerClayton a little over a handful of years ago, it was just for fun and a little educational. But it exploded, and I hired Izzy to help. She’d been stuck in a corporate job her father threw her into and she hated it. I’m just glad I could offer her something she loves doing. Organizing chaos.
