Queen of Nothing

17. you love her, don't you?

Milo walked me to my doorstep, and paused. The lawn was trashed beyond repair, and the day began its ascent. Yet my house was eerily still. 

We stood in front of each other, his thumbs jammed into his front pocket, my arms firmly clasped behind my back, as we did anything we could to avoid eye contact. The frustration I had felt at him earlier still persisted, but the fight was leaving my body too quickly. 

In an apologetic tone, I broke the silence, "I...thank you. Um. For tonight. Truly. I needed this more than you'll ever know."

He shrugged, "Hey I didn't do any much. It's the swing you should be thanking."

I let myself laugh, despite everything, "Maybe. But I forgot how fun that kind of stuff was. Even though I was terrified of swinging."

He shook his head, leaning against the doorframe. The way he was so at ease with himself, it made me swoon. "You never used to be afraid of the swings. If I recall correctly, I was the chicken."

"How the tables have turned," I joked. "I wonder when you became the fearless one."

"Right about when I realized I didn't have you to be fearless for me anymore," he replied softly. My heart contracted. Time stopped. Earth paused mid-rotation. I inhaled sharply, felt exactly where his words punctured me, decided I needed to get away immediately and put a stop to the bleeding. 

I once thought that the musings of a lovestruck fourteen year old were shakespearean in nature.

But by god, I hadn't met eighteen year old Milo yet. 

He observed me as the morning light melted his dark eyes into hazel orbs, pensive and curious, "I should get back, and check on Cole. I don't know if he ever made it back home." 

"Oh," I frowned, "right. Yeah let me know if need help finding him." 

"I don't really have your new number," he pointed out. 

"It's the same one," I murmured, "um. From eighth grade. Yeah, I never changed it, you know-" 

"In case Gia decided to call you," he confirmed. 

I nodded. 

The truth was, I'd kept the same number thinking Milo would text me again. Freshman year, when the break up was still fresh, I would nervously check my phone over and over again, till it became clear that he wasn't planning on breaking no-contact. 

Sophomore year, I checked it less. 

Junior year, I found a way to forget. 

Senior year, the wound was reopened and he still didn't reach out. 

But I couldn't tell him that. So I let him believe that it was for Gia, not because of the soul crushing dent that he'd left in my heart. I'd found a way to diminish it over the years, tell myself that it wasn't nearly as meaningful as I had made it out to be. Seeing Milo again didn't help any. 

"Well," I replied, "I should go. Katie's probably pissed by now." 

He nodded, "Yeah. Uh...I guess I'll see you around." I managed a nod, and half a smile, watching as he sloped off the street, turning around the corner until he'd disappeared. 

Then, the front door opened, to a very irate Katie, her braids tucked away in a bonnet, clad in a pajama set I didn't remember lending her. 

"Where on earth have you been?" She hissed, eyes ablaze with her wrath. 

"Katie-" 

"You've lost your mind. You've actually lost your mind." 

"Can I at least explain?"