Before us...

Chapter Twelve

Milo dressed furiously, incredibly livid at his lack of clothing choices. It was infuriatingly difficult to dress for a celebratory soccer dinner for a young child and he had tried on far too many combinations of clothing in his anxious state to impress his neighbours. He had never been one with a community spirit, however he was eager to impress them all with his ability to rightly dress himself.

He flung the pair of jeans and dark sweater he had clutched in his hands out into the hallway in frustration before throwing himself back on the bed with his hands over his face. Milo was confused as to why he cared so much about his appearance suddenly. In fact, over the last few weeks his go to outfit was some baggy sweatpants and a mismatched hoody that allowed him to slouch and avoid eye contact with passers-by due to the large hood he would occasionally peak out from under. It was fear he felt. It had been far too long since he had socialised with people, people who were complete strangers. Since he had arrived home, he had isolated himself, he was aware of that, but he was eager to try, get back out there, to try and be normal.

James had often told him that he often lacked perspective. That he, as a privileged rich boy, had no concept of the average person's understanding of the word 'normal', that it was something that changed from person to person. One man could walk past a small child smoking on the streets and believe that it was normal because he himself may have done the same thing as a youngster. Someone else would see it as bad parenting and walk past the child, judging but silent until they came upon another who would be as equally appalled as they were themselves. Another may take it upon themselves to intervene and stop said child from ruining his body at such a young age, they might inform the child that her was not yet at the legal age in which it would be his right to ruin his body in that way and he should wait for the restrictions of age to lift. James would say; what is 'normal' if everyone has a different perception of what 'normal' is, if it is unique to the individual, does it really exist? James received many an irritated eye roll at such philosophical remarks.

Lying on his bed now looking up at the white ceiling which glowed from the brightness of the ceiling light, he pondered over a lot of things. Namely, why the hell did he agree to attend this dinner in the first place? Children had never been his thing, but the little girl had seemed a sweet kid with decent parents. Lila would be there which intrigued him, he did not quite know why but he was happy to find out. The girls he gravitated towards in the past were nothing like her; there was nothing wrong with them other than their small affection for a certain way of life that he was eager to remain divorced from. No, they were nice women, some of them kind, others not so much. Most were pretty but something would always cloud that quality. Most often, it was personality traits that sent him running whether that be that they were aggressive, obsessive or narcissistic. Either way they never lasted long.

Something told him Lila would not have any of those qualities, but he was at a loss as to what kind of person she was and if he should even be thinking about the women at all. He sat upright and studied the mess he had made on the floor and began to sweep it up into a heap which he heaved up onto the bed. Milo sighed, huffed and puffed out his chest before he returned to his mission.

*

A few houses down, Lila was having a much simpler time. Nerves had gotten the best of her as soon as she had parted ways with Jensen and Nathan who walked her home and she had run straight to her wardrobe as soon as she shut her door behind her. Her dress, a simple plum colour with a sweet touch of lace across the bodice, had been laid out on her bed hours ago with matching flats that sat on the floor next to it. Her hair had been washed and dried and now hung loosely down her back as she added some simplistic make-up to her usually bare face to give her the allusion of someone with a healthy complexion.

She slipped off the tightly wrapped towel that enveloped her body, letting it drop to the floor as she picked up her dress and slid it up, pulling her hair to the side, she reached back and slid the zipper all the way up. Lila was extremely grateful that it still fit having avoided the article for months. Her feet situated themselves in the dark flats that fit her perfectly and after minutes of getting ready, she finally leaves her bedroom with an hour to spare.