Chapter 7A: Tempted

Thanks to Jim for editing!

I was getting dizzy. Every time I leaned forward, I'd feel Milo, his lips moving timidly beneath the onslaught of mine. His tongue was a pleasant thing. I kept searching it out, feeling him respond. My hands were busy, too. I discovered an interest in touching his neck. His skin was soft, warm. He shivered when I touched him there. I moved my fingers upwards, over his face. My thumb brushed his chin, lifting it so he could better meet my mouth. His hands went to my wrists, his fingers wrapped around them so tightly that my hands tingled. At first it felt like he wanted my hands off him, and meant to pull them away. But he did no such thing; he just gripped my wrists, moving with me every time my fingers moved to explore a new inch of skin.

I kept my eyes mostly closed. The first girl I'd ever kissed, back in the seventh grade, had informed me that it was rude to kiss with my eyes open. I guess I'd taken her word for it, because it had managed to stick with me. I kept pulling back, though, to look at Milo. I think I kept expecting him to tell me to stop. I could hardly blame myself for that. But still, I couldn't stop smiling at him, even with all of those faces he was making each time he looked back at me. His eyes were narrowed, and his brow stubbornly knit. If I had to describe it, I'd say he looked furious. It might have been discouraging if his mouth wasn't reacting to mine every time it settled back over his lips.

As my lips sank against him again and my tongue tasted and teased, I moved my fingers away from his face, down over his neck. His hands on my wrists tightened when my palms came over his chest, holding me away for a brief moment before he loosened his grip, and I accepted it as permission to explore. It would have been a shame had he stopped me. I was too enthralled. Besides the kissing, everything about experiencing Milo felt amazing to me. I liked the soft feel of his skin--hot beneath my fingers--and the firmness of his muscles underneath. Even his nipples I could feel harden beneath my fingers as I slid over them, the little beads tickling my palms. The way he took in a breath against my mouth and pulled at my wrists, placing my hands more firmly against his bare chest was only an encouragement; the act sent even more excitement through me, and with his hands still holding my wrists I moved my fingers to his sides to trail downwards softy. Again, Milo's grip tightened on my wrists as he squirmed against the contact. He seemed ticklish there, but unbothered once my hands met the hem of his jeans. Rather than moving lower, I slid my arms around his lower back and he finally released my wrists, only to clutch my shoulders with an equally strong hold as I pressed into him, deepening the kiss as I pulled him towards me and took a step forward. Only, Milo thwarted me by taking a step back. Even as he returned my kiss, and his arm moved around my shoulders for balance, he managed to leave distance between our bodies as I followed him. And I did follow him. I followed him until his back was against his bedroom door and he had nowhere else to go.

I pulled back from the kiss again to look at him, feeling it was time for another small intermission. He wasn't glaring at me anymore, per se, the look on his face was almost accusing; but his green eyes had glazed over, and he took me in curiously. I felt his thumb brush over the back of my neck and shuddered against the contact before I leaned forward and sought out his mouth again, closing my eyes as I found that his lips were already parted and his tongue was waiting for me. I heard him sigh as I stepped against him. I think it's what I'd wanted ever since I'd started kissing him. We were so close to the same height that our bodies matched up nicely as I pressed my chest against his and sank against him, wishing that he wasn't the only one who didn't have a shirt on, but too impatient to remove my own.

This was nothing like kissing girls. It wasn't like kissing anyone, I imagined, as I moved my fingers gingerly up and down his sides, provoking more light trembling from him as he awkwardly clung to my shoulders and kissed me back. I felt like my whole body was stirring. Even through the pounding of my own heart I swore I could feel his as I breathed heavily through my nostrils and tilted my hips forward against his. In my pants there was a steadily growing erection that nearly jumped to life when I felt a long, hard bulge come up alongside of it through Milo's jeans. I pressed in harder upon feeling it, practically thrusting at him while my fingers dug into his back. He released a small sound against my mouth that could have sounded like a protest, but even if it was, everything his body did disagreed as he held me where I was and tilted his head, getting a better angle on our kiss; and I was surprised, and pleased when I felt his tongue press its way into my mouth, timidly, before I made a point to welcome it. Milo wasn't pushing me away. Not at all. That didn't happen until we heard a door slam somewhere downstairs and he practically shoved me away.

He moved away from the door, getting away from me, and as I turned to look at him, feeling rather frustrated, yet concerned, he just stood there, his breathing as heavy and ragged as I imagined my own was, and he stared at me. His hair was tousled; curiously, I thought, because I'd never had a chance to get to it. But his usual full, sensual mouth was swollen and red from kissing, something I felt rather proud of, actually. He swallowed hard as I regarded him expectantly.

"My dad's home," he explained, and that made even me edgy.

"Is he going to come up here?" I asked as I reached for my jacket, which had fallen from the doorknob to the floor. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't worried about what Mr. Trust would see upon looking at us.

Milo snorted. "No. He never comes up here."

I cocked my head, and just like that, Milo turned his back on me, moving to lift up the history book he'd left on his bed. I watched him close it and go to his desk, where he shoved it in his backpack, as if anything that was bothering him a moment ago had never existed. I took a step in his direction, confused. My body was still shaking, warm from being so close to him, and I could still taste him. I wasn't sure if I particularly liked the way that he was suddenly avoiding my eyes as his cold demeanor took over.

"Then what's the problem?" I asked.

Milo looked up at me, incredulous. Uh-oh. I frowned, suddenly very concerned that he was going to say that I shouldn't have kissed him, or that he was going to turn this into something bad. I felt like I was begging, even if no words had actually left my mouth. I braced myself, just in case he was about to say something I really didn't want to hear.

"Didn't you hear me? My dad's home!"

I looked at Milo, sighing when he said nothing more. "I thought you said he wasn't coming up here." I really didn't get it. As usual, I understood absolutely nothing about him. I was relieved that he wasn't accusing me of mauling him, but seriously--I mean, come on. I glanced down his body; his nipples were still hard, pointing outwards on his bare chest, and it seemed that his boxers were loose, because his cock was still hard enough to be noticeable, swaying beneath his jeans when he moved. I wondered if he could even feel it. Honestly, I wasn't even as hard as he was and my whole body felt like it was aching. In fact, if he didn't look so standoffish as he turned his back on me to zip up his backpack I might have found myself back against his warm body, rubbing on him like a cat in heat.

I took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Perspective. Once again, I needed perspective. I'd just made out with a guy. For the first time. Milo Trust, of all people. Okay. Go me! But now he was doing that... that thing, again. That cold, distant, annoying thing that made me uncomfortable. Because he was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. He kept saying that. I scratched my head, wondering if I should actually start listening to it. At least he hadn't told me to go away yet, and I supposed it was something to work with. I took an unsteady step towards him. Milo must have heard me, because he rounded, and now he was glaring again. I openly frowned at this, waiting for him to say something insufferable. He was good at that. But instead, he lowered his eyes and sighed.

"I think... you should probably get going now," he said quietly. I was simply surprised that he'd managed to say that without seeming like an asshole. It prompted me to take another step forward.

"Okay. Why don't you come with me for a while?"

Milo's green eyes narrowed on me, but it seemed like curiosity more than suspicion. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he hadn't expected the invitation at all, and that, more than anything, was amusing to me. When he didn't say anything, I tried to smile as I cautiously stepped towards his closet.

"Where are your shirts?" I asked. "In here?"

Milo regarded me skeptically, but gave a small nod. I turned towards his closet, opening it quickly. It seemed better not to let him think about things for too long. I wanted to get him out of there, and hopefully relaxed. Talking probably wouldn't be a bad thing. In fact, I wanted to make sure we at least talked before things became awkward. If things got awkward, there was no way in hell he'd ever want me to kiss him again.

I found an old, faded, green-hooded sweatshirt, stained with paint, and removed it from its hanger. I was a bit startled when I turned around to find that Milo was right in front of me now. I momentarily gritted my teeth, wishing that he'd stop making those faces--the angry, troubled ones. It made me feel like he was blaming me for something, or at least about to. Only, his cold expressions notwithstanding, he was being quite agreeable as he took the sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. I put my jacket on as I watched him straighten the shirt over his bare chest, and when he looked at me again I raised my eyebrows, still hoping that he wasn't getting dressed just to tell me to get lost.

"You need shoes," I pointed out, looking down at Milo's bare feet. He looked down, too, a frown tugging at his mouth.

"I don't know..." he started, smoothing his dark hair with both hands.

"Is your dad gonna get mad if you go out for a while?" I asked, and Milo looked at me as if it were a stupid question as he shook his head. "So... maybe we can take separate vehicles," I suggested. "That way, you can just leave whenever you want to, if you don't want me taking you home."

Milo cocked his head at that suggestion, and to my surprise some of his uncertainty faded as he straightened himself. "Your car's downstairs?"

I smirked. "I didn't exactly walk here."

Milo stared at me for a long moment. "We'll take your car," he finally decided, and I simply watched as he turned his back on me again, long enough to grab a pair of socks from his dresser. He had them on rather quickly, and practically stepped into his shoes. He nodded for me to follow as he took the lead out of his bedroom, turning off the light in the process, leaving the hallway looking even darker than usual. I followed behind him quickly, matching his pace and wondering if I'd ever get used to these mood swings he seemed to be prone to. I wondered if I wanted to get used to them. I silently laughed to myself, shaking my head as I thought of Caleb and Joe, and all of their complaints about how they'd never truly understand women. Women were easy, I decided. If they wanted a challenge, they could try seducing Milo Trust sometime. When he wasn't being impossible, he was just plain confusing me. Like, when he shouted words beyond my comprehension to Juanita rather than his dad as he opened the front door, and then led the way to my car without waiting for a response. He was in the passenger seat, buckled up, and I was backing out of the driveway and squinting against the sun before it ever occurred to him to ask where we were going.

"I thought we could go somewhere and talk," I told him.

"But where?" he asked. "I don't want to go to your house."

I glanced over at him, and tried not to appear too disappointed. "Okay."

"And, if we're going to talk it has to be somewhere where no one from school is going to see us," he said warningly. His tone was cold, but I decided to be happy that he was at least open to the idea of talking.

"You're bossy," I remarked, and Milo responded by looking out his window, obviously willing to ignore me.

I sighed, wondering if it had occurred to him that we could simply talk in the car. Not that I didn't want to go somewhere. In all honesty, I'd planned to take him back to my house. I was hoping that I could have gotten him to relax there. I guess my intentions weren't really that noble, because I'd also hoped that there, we could get back to kissing. However, I could settle for simply getting him out of his house. With me. I had no idea where to go now, though. Not with his stupid rules.

"Why is it a big deal if someone from school sees us together?" I decided to ask ten minutes later as I headed towards the hill. I wasn't taking him back to my place. He'd asked me not to. "You think they're going to look at us and know we're on a date?"

"This is not a date," Milo responded, indignant.

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes. "You wouldn't want to give me the impression that you're easy." Milo was still glaring when I looked over at him. I sighed, and tried to smile. "I think I know where we can go for a while, but I can't promise no one from school will be there. Are you up for an early dinner? I'm kind of hungry."

Milo considered, and then reluctantly nodded, falling silent for the rest of the drive. I wished that I knew what he was thinking, and why he saw fit to appear agitated every time we were together outside of class. I guess maybe that it was because he didn't want to be together outside of class. It's not like he hadn't let me know that. But still, he was there with me now. By choice. And maybe I'd initiated that kiss back at his house, but I hadn't been the only one contributing to it. I just didn't understand Milo Trust.

"I don't understand you."

Milo looked up at me, seemingly startled as he sat across the small wooden table meant to seat two, with his left cheek looking swollen as he chewed a rather large bite of his cheeseburger. We were in a small restaurant, not far from the taco stand and A Woman's World clothing store, where Milo and I'd had our first community service assignment together. I went there with my brother sometimes, when he was waiting for Leanna to get off work. It always seemed like a good place to go, since it was so close to the dance studio. Besides, as far as greasy hamburgers went, this place had the best. It was always hard to find a clean table in the small establishment with a worn, amber-colored linoleum floor and dusty old rodeo pictures hanging on the walls; but if you could get past the fact that the cook in the back always had Band-aids on his fingers, the food wasn't that bad. Plus, the way that the place was designed suited our purposes. The dining room was divided into sections, and while the place wasn't completely empty, we had a suitable amount of privacy at our table, which was up against a wall that divided our section from the other four.

"I don't understand you," Milo retorted, and then I watched him take another healthy bite of his food. I'd hardly done anything more than pick at my fries, I'd been so busy watching him. Under the dim light, he'd practically been inhaling his meal. It was interesting, considering the fact that he'd refused to eat anything when we first walked into the place. Like any reasonable person, he'd been rather disgusted by it. But I'd ordered for both of us, insisting that he should at least try the food. He did, and hadn't stopped eating since. He was almost finished with his cheeseburger, and I had a feeling that he'd be reaching for mine next.

"I'm serious," I insisted, leaning back in my hard-backed wooden chair. "You... confuse me. I mean, back at your house..." I paused when he met my eyes, studying me expectantly. "Did that even mean anything to you?" I asked pointedly, deciding that asking outright might clear the air.

I watched, refusing to look away from him as Milo lowered his eyes and took an obnoxiously long time to swallow the food in his mouth before he washed it down with a long sip of soda through a straw. He licked his lips, and as he reached for one of the pink napkins on the table, he spoke so softly that I hardly heard him. "It was kinda... nice."

I straightened a little, forcing a rather ridiculous smile off of my face. "Yeah?"

He glanced up at me, a small hint of a smile appearing at the left corner of his mouth before he shoved a french fry between his teeth, obviously not wanting to repeat himself.

"So what does that mean?" I asked. "I mean... could we do it again?"

Milo frowned at that, letting out a breath. "Look, I..."

"You kinda like me," I provided for him, and he met my eyes, wearing another stubborn expression.

"It doesn't really matter, though."

"Why not?" I demanded. It came out a little harsher than I intended it to, but at least it earned more than a scowl from Milo as he sat back in his seat and looked more disturbed than annoyed.

"I already told you why. I could never tell..."

"And how many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to tell anyone?" I responded.

"They could still find out."

"Not if we're careful. Milo, even if we hung out sometime, no one would even suspect."

"If you were anyone else, maybe."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone thinks we're supposed to hate each other. I see how that girl from class looks at us every time you start talking to me."

"Haily? She's probably curious, but she doesn't think I hate you. She was there when I bought that painting, remember? And she totally knows I'm into your work."

"I saw the look on Caleb's face today, too."

"Also curious. Look, Caleb doesn't really like anyone, okay? He knows that I like people he doesn't. It happens all the time. Seriously. You should have seen how long it took just to get him to acknowledge Joe when he first started hanging out with us. I don't tell my friends I'm gay; but just so you know, I've always been honest with them when it comes to the fact that I don't have a problem with you. I talk to people all the time. They're not gonna think anything's up if I start talking to you."

"Maybe my friends are different," Milo said quietly.

"Hmm... I don't know who you hang out with at school, but the only one I could see having a problem with you talking to me is Jame," I replied. And that was true. I really didn't have any enemies. Hell, Jame wasn't even mine, he was Caleb's. He'd just been doing his best to make me his enemy recently. "But just because he doesn't like you talking to me doesn't mean he's going to think you're gay. Fuck. Most people around here wouldn't even think it. They probably think a queer is something that secretly wears women's underthingies and plays with a secret Barbie stash. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

Milo looked down at his food and lifted another fry. He was silent for very long moments, and at least appeared to be thinking about what I'd said. I just wished that he didn't looks so troubled. Maybe he was thinking too much, I decided. A distraction was in order. Besides, while Milo was busy thinking about whether or not he and I should hang out, it was already happening. Maybe if I went about this the right way, it could happen again.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, resting an elbow on the table. He looked up again. "How did you and Jame start hanging out, anyway?"

Milo shrugged. "My dad hosts dinners sometimes for people he does business with, and they bring their families. Last year Jame was at one and started hanging around me and my friends. One of them had some shit and we figured he just wanted to get high, but afterwards he didn't go away. The dinner was at my house, so he showed up a few times after the party..." Milo stirred his drink with his straw, looking thoughtful. "I thought he was really annoying at first. I mean... a lot of people just stick around because of who my dad is. I sorta thought he was trying to hang around because he wanted me to introduce him to some girls or something--but he turned out okay. He didn't really care about hanging out with my friends, or at my house. He likes to watch me paint... He's a really good friend. He's the one who talked me into switching schools. I was getting kinda tired of mine, and wanted a change."