Almighty Milo Flammia ✔️

Troy

"Huh? How?" I blinked at him, instinctively taking a step back. "You should have told me before that he was troubling you." He retreated slightly too, yet his hand lingered on mine, a gesture that felt both comforting and utterly confusing.

My eyes widened at his sudden possessiveness. "Why?" I asked, genuinely baffled by what he could do about it. I mean, Milo was practically a professional at tormenting me. What difference did it make? He raised an eyebrow, a clear signal for me to elaborate.

"Why should I tell you? I thought it would make you happy that he was troubling me," I shot back, still grappling with the reality of his large hand firmly enveloping mine. Honestly, I wanted more than just that hand—I wanted those hands all over me.

"Rosy." He whispered, his voice low and intense. His index finger found its way under my chin, guiding me to look deep into his striking blue eyes.

"Don't compare me to him." His words pierced through me, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers coursing through my body.

I would never, could never compare him with anyone else. The thought danced on the tip of my tongue, but fear rendered me mute. Instead, I remained silent, entranced by the sharp angles of his face, his sculpted jawline, those tantalizing plum lips. I craved to kiss him, but a nagging voice in my head warned me it would be the worst decision of my life. I steeled myself, determined not to speak, not to ruin this fragile moment.

Then, as if propelled by some force beyond my control, the words tumbled out of my mouth: "I want to kiss you."

The shock registered on Milo's face instantly. His eyes widened as if I had just announced I was running for president. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet before bolting out of the classroom.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything," I muttered, slumping onto my desk as the class began. The rest of the lecture dragged on, each second stretching painfully as I sulked in my seat, fighting back tears.

I don't think I can survive another second in this hellhole. Not a single person here likes me, except for Avery, and of course, she wasn't here today. All I wanted was to go home and curl up in bed. Not a single girl talked to me, and every guy seemed convinced I was out to get into their pants. What kind of place is this?

As I trudged toward my locker, I collided with someone and nearly fell flat on my backside. Thankfully, Cayden was there to catch me, his grip firm around my arms as he steadied me.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry, Rosalyn!" Cayden's voice was filled with concern as he struggled to regain his balance while holding onto me.

"It's okay, I ju—" Before I could finish, a massive arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me away and dragging me into an empty classroom. Cayden's face blurred away as I was thrust against the wall, the impact making my head spin.

Opening my eyes, I found Milo's bloodshot blue ones glaring into mine, a storm of emotion brewing beneath the surface.

"Why are you here with him?" His voice was low, almost dangerously so. The menace in his tone made me feel like a deer caught in headlights.

I wriggled, desperate to escape his grip, but he tightened his hold around my waist, slamming me back against the wall.

Is he angry? Why is he angry? What did I do?

"What were you doing with him?" His question came slowly, the threat simmering just beneath the surface.

"Tell me at once, Rosy—"

"I bumped into him, that's all, I swear!" I blurted out, my words tumbling over one another in a rush, hoping to quell the fury brewing in his gaze.

He exhaled sharply, taking a deep breath as his hands bracketed my head, effectively trapping me.

"Why?" he demanded, closing the distance between us. My chest pressed against his, and I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"Why did I bump into him? I wasn't looking—"

"Why did you say that?" he interrupted, clearly not satisfied with my evasions. Although I understood exactly what he meant, I feigned ignorance.

"What did I say?" I stammered, my throat suddenly dry.

"Don't test my patience, Rosy. You know what I mean."

"I told you—"

"I told you. I want to," I said, surprising even myself with the confidence I managed to muster. For the first time in eight years, I'd actually found my voice.

Milo's mouth fell open, shock evident in his wide eyes. Why was he so surprised?

"So you don't love Cayden anymore?"

"Of course not—Wait. What?" My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Did he really think I was in love with Cayden?

"Wait. You think I'm in love with Cayden?" I practically yelled, the heat of embarrassment rising to my cheeks.

"Yo-You don't?" Milo stuttered, his words falling over one another. Seeing him like this—vulnerable and uncertain—was almost heartbreaking.

"Oh my god." My hands flew to my face in disbelief as I backed away from him, panic rising in my chest. I paced back and forth, trying to steady my breathing.

"Milo?" I called softly, my heart racing as I watched him gaze blankly at the wall, his eyes wide as if he were trapped in a nightmare.

"Please, please don't tell me you thought I was in love with Cayden all these eight years," I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. The weight of the misunderstanding felt like a boulder in my chest.

"I-I ju-just..." Milo's face turned crimson as he stammered, his own eyes glossing over.

"I can't brea—" he gasped, the words tumbling out as he struggled to catch his breath.

I rushed toward him, instinctively rubbing his back, my hands gliding over his chest as I tried to soothe him. "Do you want some water?" I asked, concern flooding my voice.

He shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks as he locked eyes with me. My heart melted at the sight of him like this.

"Troy told me—" he choked on his sob, his voice breaking before he could finish.

What did Troy say, and when?

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