by Nikki Godwin
He smirks and waits for my reaction. When I don’t say anything, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer to him.
“I’m not gonna stop seeing you just because lockdown ends,” he says. “And the fans will get over it. I can’t be single forever just because they like to daydream about being in your shoes. They’ll still have Benji, unless Emery kills them all.”
I can’t help but laugh. Thinking of Emery post-lockdown is a scary thing. She staked claim on Benji Bikini long ago, but now her claim has risen to a whole new level. He really is wearing her friendship bracelet. He played hide-and-seek with her, helped her spin the arrow during Twister, and taught her to like pepperonis. She truly is the envy of every Benji Baccarini fan in the universe, and she’ll make sure they all know about her.
Milo’s arm tightens around me.
“We’ll figure this out,” he reassures me.
“What about the other guys?” I ask.
“Tate’s dating your sister, so he’ll have the same issues to deal with,” he says. “I’m sure he can pass those phone numbers on to the other guys.”
“And how do we tell them? And my family?” I’m getting so far ahead of myself.
Milo smiles. “Your mom already likes me. It’ll be easy. We can tell her when she gets back if you want.”
As much as I love the idea of going public with Milo, I don’t think I’m ready. The limelight is going to be hard. The Twitter threats will pour in. There’ll be camera flashes everywhere I go. I’ll really be entering the craziness.
“Not yet,” I say. “If Mom knows, she’ll want to keep an eye on us. Let’s wait until the end of lockdown. Then Aralie and Tate can come clean too, and the four of us will fight it head on.”
He nods. “Whatever you want, Ms. Branson.”
Mom texts me a few minutes before her crafting class ends to see if anyone needs anything while she’s out. I forced Milo to sit through the first Rainwater movie on DVD while Mom and Emery were gone. Oddly, no one has come looking for us. I figure Benji’s still asleep, Aralie’s with Tate, and Noah and Jules are entertaining each other. Who knows. I don’t even care.
“Let’s go make the rounds and see if anyone needs anything,” I say, forcing myself off of my bed.
I poke my head out first, to make sure no one is spying. Then I push the door open for Milo to join me. He sees it as soon as I do.
“Why is there a cut out of Tate’s head on your door?” he asks. “I’ve seen it there a few times, but I didn’t feel right asking until now.”
“No clue,” I admit. “It keeps reappearing. Emery said that Aralie put it there.”
I peel Tate’s smiling face off of my door and return it to Aralie’s door. I wonder if this will end when lockdown is over or if I’ll forever have Tate Kingsley’s face smiling at me when I leave my bedroom.
Aralie, Jules, and Tate are downstairs playing another round of bowling on Dad’s Wii. According to Tate, Noah and Benji are both still asleep. I try to watch my sister’s body language toward Tate – and Jules, just in case – to see if I can read into a relationship, but she gives me nothing more than her arms slinging around and excited jumping each time she bowls a strike.
They basically ignore me when I ask if they need anything, so I drag Milo to the kitchen with me to make sure we’re fully stocked on everything. I hand him my phone and have him text my mom a grocery list as I dig through the cabinets and take inventory.
We’re nearly out of Oreos. Noah needs more strawberry milk, even though he’s not down here to tell me that.
“And lemons,” I say. “Tell her to get three times more than necessary.”
Benji likes lemon water. He never told us, but he always puts lemon in his water, and we’re down to the last two. I don’t think any of the Saturnite fan sites have even mentioned it. I guess maybe it’s not important enough to tell magazines, but living with him on a daily basis, I’ve caught on. I think Mom has too. She doesn’t buy lemons often, but she has lately. I wonder if she’ll miss the SAS guys when this is over.
“Anything else?” he asks, looking at my cell phone like it’s a foreign object.
“That’s got us,” I say.
He hands my phone back to me.
“It’s weird texting,” he says. “I’m finally coping with not having a phone on me, and then you suck me back in. I miss the real world.”
Oh, this boy breaks my heart. I don’t want to give him to the real world, but I hate seeing how much this hurts him.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out for his hand. “Let’s go back upstairs, and we can watch the gossip channel on YouTube that Emery and I watch. It’s all about you guys.”
It’s after midnight, but Milo is doubled-over on my bed because he can’t stop laughing at Jules and the eyebrow infection. We’re both late for our swim date, but I think Darby’s Daily Dose of Drama was what he needed to feel reconnected to reality and his fans.
Against protective-girl code, I even let him look at the zillion of tweets that his fans sent to him. He wasn’t logged into his account, and he had no online presence, so we didn’t break any lockdown rules. Most tweets were the same – girls wishing SAS would get back on tour, girls hoping they’re safe, girl begging Milo to make an online appearance so they know he’s alive, and of course, those few “I love you, please marry me” tweets. I’ll block those girls later.
He leans over and kisses my cheek.
“You’re the best,” he whispers. “I needed that.”
“So, are we swimming or internet stalking you all night, Mr. Grayson?” I ask.
“Let me go change,” he says. “I’ll meet you down there?”
I nod and lock my door behind him. The butterflies in my stomach flare up, dancing around in silly circles like Noah does onstage in the guys’ live DVD. It’s like they know when I’m about to have alone time with Milo, and they wake up and flutter around just for the occasion. I almost don’t mind them. As long as they’re with me, they don’t have to bleed for the sunrise.
I tug at my bikini, over-thinking every inch of my body and how I look and what he’ll think. As many times as I’ve been in the pool with the guys, I’ve never felt so insecure. But after having the ‘let’s be together after lockdown’ talk with Milo, I’m critical of everything I say and do and especially how I look. I wrap my towel around me and head downstairs.
The sliding glass door swishes when I pull it back. Milo looks over his shoulder at me.
“Took you long enough,” he says. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”
Five minutes isn’t long at all in girl time. He should know this. He deals with thousands of females daily, outside of lockdown anyway. I walk over to the concrete steps, toss my towel onto a lounge chair, and step into the water.
“That’s cold,” I say, pulling my leg back out of the pool.
“C’mon, Chloe,” he groans. “Get in here, and I’ll keep you warm.”
Screw it. Chill bumps spread over my skin as I step deeper into the water. I take a deep breath and force myself to swim over him, allowing the cool water to engulf me.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and he pulls me into a kiss. A very warm kiss. His hands rub along my back. I think he makes me shiver more than the cold water does.
He keeps me close to him while we talk about Tate and Aralie, how we’ll deal with pissed off fans, and upgrading my phone for international calls and texts because we’ll need it once lockdown ends. Months ago, while living through the aftermath of the break up from hell, I never thought I’d trust a guy again this soon. Then again, I never imagined Milo coming into my life either.
He leans in to kiss me, but the kitchen light comes on through the window, and I pull away.
“Someone’s awake,” I say. “Someone’s up. Oh God. What if they come out here?”
Milo slips down in the pool, barely keeping his head above water. I stretch my neck to see through the window, but I see nothing more than a shadowy figure moving around
next to the fridge. If it’s Mom and she finds me alone in the pool after midnight with Milo, I’ll have to confess. She’ll know. Moms always know.
We wait in deafening silence. It’s like my ears are ringing with extreme anxiety and anticipation. The shadow moves across the kitchen toward the glass door, and I panic.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. They’re coming!” I whisper through my teeth.
“I can hold my breath for about two minutes, so hurry,” Milo says.
He inhales a deep breath and drops underwater. He wraps his arm around my shin and squeezes his hand into my skin. I try to relax as much as I can. I prop my elbows up on the concrete and loosen my shoulders, so maybe I can pass for ‘just lounging in the dark.’ If it’s Mom, I’ll tell her I just needed to clear my head and have some alone time. Hopefully she won’t notice the pretty boy underwater who is tangled up with my leg.
But it’s not Mom’s head that pokes outside.
“Noah!” I say, half-relieved yet half-angered at him for scaring me.
I reach down and nudge Milo’s shoulder. He doesn’t instantly come up, so I feel around for his arm and pull him. He gasps for air and blinks the water out of his eyes.
Noah stands poolside with his hands on his hips.
“Well, Milo David Grayson,” he says. “From the looks of things, it seems you were hiding from me.”
“Well, Noah Pierre Winters,” Milo says as water drips down his face. “I was hiding from you, even though I didn’t know that you were you.”
Now, I actually do relax my shoulders since I know it’s not my mom sneaking around and finding out my secrets. If it had to be anyone, Noah would’ve been my first choice.
“We thought you were my mom,” I say. “Or Godfrey. You know, someone who didn’t need to find us together…in the pool…after midnight.”
For this to be so non-scandalous, it feels like a tabloid-worthy story. Truthfully, a lot of things with Milo have felt tabloid-worthy, and he’s the least tabloid-worthy of all the guys in Spaceships Around Saturn. That’ll probably change once we go public.
Noah sits on the concrete and pulls his knees back into himself, like how Tate curls up in the corners of the sectional.
“Is this what you guys do for fun?” he asks. “Sneak out while everyone else sleeps?”
Milo shrugs. “Apparently everyone else isn’t sleeping tonight,” he says.
There’s a hint of sarcasm, or maybe annoyance, in his voice. Noah flashes him a smartass kind of smirk and pushes himself back up into a standing position.
“You guys are boring,” he tells us. “I don’t know why I expected any kind of action. I mean, it is Milo, after all.”
I debate telling him that the action happens behind closed doors with Aralie, but I decide against it to protect my sister’s reputation. I don’t know what happens behind her closed door anymore than she knows what happens behind mine. When she’s ready to announce that she’s dating Tate, she can. I’ll just wait impatiently until then.
Noah yawns. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you lovers in the morning.”
As he walks back toward the door, there’s a loud double chirp in the night. Noah spins around and looks at me. He heard it too. He walks slowly and quietly back toward the pool. I grab Milo’s arm to keep him still next to me. The water sloshes around us.
“What was that?” Noah whispers.
“What was what?” Milo asks – out loud.
Noah and I both shush him, and the double chirp echoes again. I feel the panic spread on my face. My eyes widen, and I’m fully aware that I have that doe-eyed Emery face going on, but I can’t stop it.
I know the double chirp.
It’s Dad’s car.
“That’s my dad,” I whisper. “He wasn’t supposed to come back until tomorrow.”
Noah backs up toward the door, but he doesn’t have a plan of action. Sure, he can go inside, but there’s a very likely possibility that he’ll run into my dad.
“Wait!” I whisper. “Noah, please. Come here. I need you to do something for me.”
He’s going to hate me for this. Maybe he’ll forgive me. I don’t have a choice. I can’t get caught alone with Milo. There’s only one thing I can do.
Noah leans closer to the pool.
“Your dad’s gonna kill you guys. I’m not getting busted with you,” he says.
“You don’t have to,” I say. I motion him closer with my hand.
He leans over the water, ready to hear this big secret plan of action. But I don’t say a word. I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into the pool.
Chapter Seventeen
“Noah,” I say to his door, knocking for the third time. “Will you just open the door already? I have your clothes out here.”
The shadow of his footsteps linger on the other side, but he still doesn’t unlock or open the door. I knew he’d be mad when I pulled him into the pool last night, but I didn’t see any other way to keep Milo and me a secret.
Dad is so clueless to girl stuff. He really believed that the three of us couldn’t sleep and decided to go swimming without Emery hanging all over us. In fact, he laughed and said he didn’t blame us. Then he told us not to stay up too terribly late because he had ‘big things’ happening in the morning. And finally, he questioned Noah’s swimming apparel.
“I was just really excited and jumped in,” Noah had said, forcing a smile while his shirt clung to his skin.
And that’s why Milo and I got up extra, extra early to do Noah’s laundry. I bang on the door one more time, but Noah tells me to go away because he wants to stay dry. I give up.
I haul the blue laundry basket down to the next door, which is open. Milo looks up at me from the small duffel bag he’s packing.
“Noah’s being a diva,” I tell him. “Pack his clothes with yours.”
“Great,” Milo says. “I’ll get to listen to him bitch and moan for the next two days.”
That means I won’t get to listen to Noah’s whining for the next two days. I get where my dad is coming from, wanting to give the guys a break from our house, but this two-day “guys only” fishing trip is going to be misery for the Branson sisters. Well, at least for Emery and me.
I drag Noah’s laundry over to the bed and hand item by item to Milo. He grabs another bag and packs Noah’s clothes.
“Maybe it’ll go by really fast,” he says, reading the sad expression that I know is splashed on my face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Or lockdown could end and they’ll just send you back on tour,” I counter.
That’d be my luck. Dad and Godfrey would take the SAS guys to our cabin for a two-day ordeal of video games, fishing, and grilling, and the United States government would catch whoever shot at the guys. Instead of coming back here, agents would just send them on to the next city on the tour and ship their belongings to them from our house.
“If they send me somewhere else, I’ll be on the first flight back to you, okay?” Milo says.
He leans over and gives me a quick forehead kiss before he continues packing.
This is what it’ll be like when lockdown really is over. Except I imagine there will be a lot more people in our house. All of SAS’s staff will be here. Management teams will be shuttling the guys into black cars with tinted windows. Security will line the property. I wonder if Milo will even have a chance to slip me a forehead kiss then.
“Chloe?” Milo stares at me, trying to bring me back to Earth.
“Sorry,” I say, handing him another shirt of Noah’s. “I was just thinking.”
“You okay?” he asks.
He takes Noah’s shirt but doesn’t bother to pack it. He just hugs it close to chest and watches me while he waits for an answer.
No, I’m not okay because you’re leaving me for two days. I’m not okay because lockdown will eventually end. I’m not okay because I’m terrified about our future and what’s going to happen once you’re back on tour and away from me. I�
�m one girl out of the literal millions who want you. How could I ever be okay?
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just hate losing two days of lockdown with you.”
“You’re not a good liar, you know that?” he asks, cramming Noah’s shirt into the bag.
A knock on the door makes me turn around. Benji stands in the doorframe, a hand against either side of the door. The word SLUT stretches in black letters across the faded red T-shirt. It shouldn’t make me smile so much.
“Hey man, five minutes, and we’re outta here,” Benji says to Milo, completely ignoring the fact that I’m standing here. “And if we have to share beds, I call dibs on you.”
Milo laughs. “Sounds good,” he says. “See you downstairs.”
Benji gives me a half-wave before disappearing. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him since he got here. These two days will be pure bliss for him – no Emery, no Aralie vs. Jules arguments, no drama whatsoever. It’ll just be him and his boys chilling like they’re on a vacation from their crazy lives.
“Why is Benji claiming you? I thought Jules was his guy,” I say.
I sit down on the bed and hope these five minutes stretch on forever and ever. Milo zips up the first duffel bag and sticks Noah’s last shirt into the other one.
“Benji and I share a place back in Montréal,” he says. “We had an apartment before that, and he used to have to crash with me if he had family visiting. I’m a heavy sleeper, and I never move. Noah kicks all night, and Tate will leave bruises on you.”
Oh the money I could make if I had pictures of these guys in bed together. The bromance shippers would go insane over it. But I really don’t think I could do it. I like Jenji together too much to destroy them.
“Don’t worry,” Milo says. “Just because Benji might be in my bed doesn’t mean that I don’t want you.”
He zips up Noah’s bag and slings it over his shoulder. I wait on his bed while he delivers Noah’s belongings back to the diva himself. This room is immaculate, like Milo cleaned up all forensic evidence that he’d been here just in case he doesn’t come back. He even made the bed. I wonder if the sheets smell like him. I might have to sleep in here tonight.
