Fine Fine Fine, page 14
HANNA
Oh? And why is that?
ALWAYS ANSWER
Probably the insane blue balls I’m sporting under the table.
HANNA
Boooo. That’s a myth.
ALWAYS ANSWER
Oh yeah? You seem super locked in on whatever you and Sara are doing.
HANNA
Hey, I got mine.
ALWAYS ANSWER
Lot more where that came from.
“None of my business… but… is it at least making you feel alive again?”
Hanna set her phone down and stared out Sara’s window, dreading the fact that it made her feel many, many things again, the worst of them being fully alive.
FOURTEEN
When Milo got home, she’d been asleep for hours.
She didn’t register him slipping into the bed behind her, but when she finally did wake, drowning in his warmth and yesterday’s cologne, dread pooled in her stomach.
It was a bad day.
It wasn’t that she thought a new city, or even Milo, could stop the bad days entirely, but without even realizing it, she’d let herself hope they could stave them off for at least a little while.
Hanna’s heart sank as each breath felt harder than the next.
“Morning,” Milo mumbled, half asleep. She rolled in his arms and tucked her head into his chest, his shirt smelling so deeply of him she wished she could wrap herself up in it without tipping him off that she was a pathetic moron. “Sorry we got home so late.”
Hanna didn’t respond. She only buried her face further into his chest.
“I could make it up to you,” he said. Milo’s hands found her beneath the blanket, slipping under the hem of her shorts.
She only had to hesitate for a second for him to snap awake, his voice tightening from half-asleep to deeply troubled.
“You alright?”
Hanna sighed. “It’s just one of those days.”
His hands retreated immediately.
“Sorry—”
“Nope, we don’t apologize for that shit.” Milo slipped out of bed and pulled on his jeans from the night before.
“Where are you going?”
He shrugged, searching for his keys. “You need a bagel and to stay in bed.”
“I’m fi—”
“Banned word.” Milo pulled back the curtains. “Look, even the Bay thinks it’s a down day.” The sky drizzled gray over Brannan Street, blanketing it in a foggy haze that felt completely appropriate for the storm developing in her chest. “I’ll be back in twenty.” He dove back onto the bed, shoving his hands over the blanket to tuck it around her as she giggled.
When he returned with coffee, bagels, and a bouquet of sunflowers, her heart felt less like an anchor and more like a balloon, bobbing happily along between electric lines and branches, as if she’d be able to dodge them indefinitely.
“What are you reading now?”
Milo flopped onto the couch next to her. He’d been on calls all day, and she’d been avoiding hers with the second installment in the series Sara got her hooked on. She held the cover up so he could see the title.
“Enemies to lovers? Age gap? Shadow daddy? Why choose?”
Hanna held her place with her index finger as she twisted to face him.
“Who taught you these words?”
Milo grinned. “Girl I used to hang out with read a book a day. Loved acting scenes out.”
She tried not to let the pang of jealousy show on her face, but she worried it pinged so loudly off her chest that he heard it. Just friends, she reminded herself.
“It’s none of the above, actually,” she said. “It’s a cozy fantasy—more steam, less spice.”
Milo’s head tilted, a wickedness flashing across his face.
“Getting your other needs met, then?”
She looked up from the page, glaring. “I’m at a really good part.”
Milo backed away, holding his hands up in surrender. He hopped off the couch and crossed the living room to a stack of books she'd borrowed from Sara when they'd moved her stuff over. She tried not to watch as he scanned the spines, but the concentration on his face was hard to ignore. He plucked one from the middle of the stack.
She battled a smile as he reclaimed the spot beside her, laying his head in her lap and cracking open the first book in the series. His eyes flicked from the page to hers.
“So, just to set my expectations correctly, no knotting in this one?”
Hanna giggled. “Not so far. There are two other books, though.”
“Here’s to hoping,” he murmured.
She turned her focus back to her book, the weight of him an anchor as she let the sweet romance sweep her heart away. She rested one hand on his chest, absently fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Her mind wandered back to two years ago, nestled next to Logan on the couch, when she’d crawled her hand over his thigh to reach for his. She’d just missed him as he moved to answer an email from work.
Milo shifted under her touch. She pulled her hand back, realizing that it wasn’t very just friends of her. He caught her fingers and pressed the back of her hand to his lips before returning it to his chest.
They both stilled.
“Jesus,” he said as he waved the book in the air. “These really are a bad influence, you know that? No wonder they try to ban them.” He set the book on the coffee table and reached for his phone, reading through the notifications. “Ah, shit, I gotta deal with something.”
“Family okay?” she asked, her heart still beating too quickly.
“Fire at work,” he mumbled. “I’ll see you later?”
“Mmhmm,” she said, her eyes glued to the book.
He pulled on a hoodie and took off, and she made it three more pages before she found herself wandering across the hall.
“Well, well, well, look who came up for air,” Sara whispered as she pulled Hanna into the apartment. She braced herself for Logan, but it still hit her when his cologne drifted across the kitchen as he stood in front of the fridge.
“Hey!”
“Hanna Hanna bo banna,” Matty chanted, grabbing her shoulders. “Where’s Milo?”
“Work thing,” she said, waving her hand. “You guys wanna go grab dinner?”
Sara and Matty exchanged a glance as they waited for Logan to answer.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Definitely.”
It really shouldn’t have shocked her when a bouncy redhead chirped her name from two tables over halfway through their dinner.
And yet, Chloe caught her off guard. She leaned forward and said something to the man she was with before hugging him and sending him on his way.
“I’m so glad you guys are here,” Chloe said, pulling a chair up to their table. “That was, hands down, the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
“Oh, no!” Hanna said, moving a basket of chips closer to the end of the table.
“I keep telling myself I’ll stop dating finance bros, but here I am,” she said, laughing as she reached a hand across the table toward Logan. “Hi, I’m Chloe.”
He winced and shook her hand. “Finance Bro,” he said.
Chloe tossed her head back, cackling as Hanna patted her arm. “Chloe, this is Logan, Matty’s brother. Logan, this is Chloe, she works with Milo.”
Sara snorted beside her. Hanna didn’t need her to say it out loud. She knew it was the most politically correct introduction ever made.
“I’m sure you’re not one of those finance bros,” Chloe offered.
Logan shrugged as Hanna sipped her margarita. “I’ve had mixed reviews.”
“Everything’s okay at work then?” Hanna asked.
Chloe pursed her lips. “I… think so?” Confusion laced her answer.
“Oh, I just, uh, Milo has had a few emergencies pop up. I guess I thought you’d be involved.”
Chloe pulled her phone out of her purse, checking her messages.
“I would be. But no, everything seems fine.”
Sara leaned forward. “He might have meant at the bar?”
“Ah,” Hanna breathed. “That makes sense.”
She didn’t have much to offer the rest of the meal.
It was nearly eleven when Milo returned.
She’d gone to bed in the guest room, unsure of the kind of night he had in mind. She listened as his footsteps traced a path from the front door to his bedroom, and back toward the living room. The stairs rumbled under his weight before he knocked on her door.
Hanna slipped out from under the blanket and hardly had the door open before she was against the wall, her face caught in his hands as he parted her lips with his tongue. Her heart slammed against her ribs in the dark, lightning pulling at the edges of her vision as he dropped one hand lower, searching for skin beneath her t-shirt. She thought about stopping him for a second, just to at least say hey, how ya doing, but Milo was not a man who wanted to be stopped.
She could feel it in the threads of his muscles, tightening as he pulled her legs around his waist—he needed something from her, and she was happy to give it to him.
Hanna gasped for breath when he finally broke from her mouth, moving to her neck.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, save for a brief glance, something pained in his eyes that she wished she hadn’t recognized.
She threaded her hands in his hair, matching his fervent movements, giving herself over to the strange mania. His shirt disappeared, along with hers. Milo blurred around her, hands everywhere, mouth everywhere, setting little fires along her body until the entire room filled with smoke.
“Milo?” she asked, somewhere between the bed and the door. He was so quiet. Too quiet. “Milo.”
“I’m fine,” he growled, breaking away from her. He wiped at his mouth, the ink of his tattoos stretching and twisting as he breathed. “I’m fine.”
“One more and I’ll buy it,” she whispered.
He hung his head back, the anger he’d been battling back simmering just under the surface.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not. I’m sorry, Hanna. It’s just… it’s a bad day.”
She swept her shirt off the floor, snagging his and tossing it to him.
“I’m the queen of bad days, Milo.”
He perched his hands on his hips, glancing out into the hall as he drew another deep breath.
“It’s late,” she murmured, pulling her shirt on. “You should sleep.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Milo nodded, exhaling. He stepped out of the guest room, but paused at the top of the stairs. “Are you coming?”
Hanna shook her head, trying to clear the thousands of thoughts taking hold. Her mind still swirled from the rush of him.
“Yeah,” she said. “Of course.”
Milo was gone before she woke up, but after her last call of the afternoon, her phone buzzed against the coffee table.
ALWAYS ANSWER
That Oakland distiller I told you about is bringing some new shit by the bar this afternoon. Want to come taste?
Hanna stared at the text. She’d been frustrated all day, unsure what to make of his behavior the night before. She held her breath and hit send on the kind of message she would have sent twenty-four hours prior.
HANNA
You or whiskey?
ALWAYS ANSWER
Both if you ask nicely.
She exhaled. Fine.
He was waiting at the door when she rounded the corner and slipped into the bar. He locked the door behind her.
She felt it as she brushed by him—the shift between them. She’d let him see the most vulnerable pieces of her over the last few days, and it hadn’t scared him off. She’d cried, laughed, and sat in silence with him, and they’d all felt survivable.
In four days, she’d be back across the hall, and this would all be fodder for her vibrator.
But it was there, lingering in their chests. Something far worse than grief.
Hope.
The bar was quiet, only Frankie and a delivery guy hanging at the edge of the cherry-stained oak. She took a moment to really examine all the photos on the walls. There were shots of family trips to Disneyland, the beach, fishing somewhere. He looked so much like his dad, the same dark curls and knotted bridge in his nose.
The same green eyes.
“Oh god,” Milo laughed. “All the cheesy photos.” He hovered behind her, pointing to one of him and Frankie, she assumed, in their early teens, soaked and laughing at whoever was behind the camera. “My dad pushed us both into the lake because we couldn’t stop arguing over something. I can’t even remember anymore, but it stopped the fight.”
“You wouldn’t share the Gameboy,” Frankie rumbled from behind the bar.
“It wasn’t the Gameboy, it was my Gameboy. I got it with the money I saved cleaning the bar all summer.”
“So you do remember,” Hanna said, arching a brow.
“I’m Frankie, by the way,” Milo’s brother said, waving and resting a hand on his hip. Aside from the patches of silver beginning to form at his temples, he could have easily been mistaken for Milo in the dim lighting.
“Hanna,” she said, returning the wave.
“The girl from Phoenix,” Frankie said, nodding. Milo stilled behind her as she turned.
“I’m a girl from Phoenix. Not sure about the.” Milo's fingers brushed against her hip and her cheeks warmed.
“There’s a distillery down in Tempe that we like,” Frankie went on. “I try to make it out there every few years.”
“On University, yeah?”
“She knows her stuff,” Frankie said to Milo, who might have been, for the first time since she'd met him, flustered.
She didn’t get a chance to tease him before the Oakland distiller uncapped several bottles, walking them through the tasting notes as they tried four seasonal blends. She loved the sour cherry infusion, the tart pinch of her taste buds a perfect distraction from the way Milo licked his lips after a sip. Without even asking, he popped a bottle from the case into her purse.
When the distiller left, Frankie followed, reminding Milo to lock up before they went home. The door was barely shut before she twisted on her heels.
“Your brother knows about me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head. He saw you here, remember?” Milo ducked behind the bar, fussing with the register.
“The girl from Phoenix,” she hummed.
“You know what? I have nothing to hide,” Milo declared. “I have mentioned you a few times at family dinners, okay?”
She leaned over the bar, just inches from him. “Do they hate me for stealing you on Father’s Day?”
“No, of course not.”
She inhaled. “I don’t want whatever we’re doing to come between you and your family time.”
Milo stopped his work on the register and looked her dead in the eyes.
“Yeah, well, if they knew how good your head game was, they’d understand.”
Hanna rolled her eyes, leaning forward over the bar. She dropped her voice, softening her tone.
“Are you feeling better today?”
“I’m feeling better after seeing you bent over in that dress,” he muttered, his eyes quickly flashing to the neckline draped lower than she realized. She straightened her back, irritated. Milo stopped whatever he was doing with the register and sighed. “I’m sorry, Hanna.”
“For what?” she asked. He stepped to the side, leaning across from her. His hand dropped over hers, tapping the edge of the glass she’d been sipping.
“I know I’m okay being a distraction for you, but I tried to make you a distraction for me, and I shouldn’t have done that without talking about it first.”
Hanna nodded, processing. He was only a tiptoe away from her, making it difficult to form a coherent thought.
“It’s okay, Milo. You have your own shit too, and I know I trigger that. Plus, the work stuff.”
Milo winced. “I didn’t have work stuff.”
She tilted her head.
“I, uh, I was calling my therapist.”
Hanna sighed. “Have you ever felt something without analyzing it?” she asked.
Milo huffed a sigh, tapping her hand. “No.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore his throat flexing just inches from her lips.
“What if you just did what you wanted for once, and not what you thought you should?”
She’d hardly gotten the thought out before the thread snapped and Milo closed the distance between them. Whiskey still lingered on their tongues as they swept across one another. It wasn’t enough pressure, enough heat from where she stood. Hanna climbed onto the bar, pushing him back as she sat on the edge and parted her legs around him, begging him to fall into her. He didn’t miss a beat, sliding his hand along her thighs and gliding the hem of her dress higher.
It was a completely different kiss than the night before. Deep and thorough, not starved and scattered.
She yelped into his mouth when his fingers slipped the buttons over her chest away, giving him access to her soft skin. The sound drove him to squeeze harder, grab more of her.
“Milo,” she groaned, her head falling back as he moved to her neck. He lifted her, setting her feet on the ground behind the bar and pushing at the lace of her underwear, rolling it down to give him access.
“Fuck,” he whispered, finding her more than ready for him—as if she hadn’t been his to mold however he wanted all damn week. He kissed her again before pushing her forward, draping her over the bar. His belt hit the wood and a foil wrapper hissed in two.
“How old is that wallet condom?” she asked, laughing.
