Page 54 of Learn Your Limits
Chapter fifty
Reid
I can’t remember the last time I felt this light. Like all of the pressure that has been weighing down on me for months has suddenly vanished, leaving behind nothing but happiness.
However, despite the happiness radiating through me, the last few days have dragged by torturously slow.
I would have been ready to move in with Milo the night he asked, but it made more sense to wait a few days.
With the weekend finally here, I have a break from classes, and Milo is able to come over to help me pack.
Not that I’m taking much with me beyond my clothing and art supplies.
It would’ve been faster to simply throw all of my stuff into a few duffle bags, toss them in the car, and head over to Milo’s.
But I’ll admit, there’s a small part of me that’s feeling nervous about the move and is thankful for the bit of extra time that I’ve had with my roommates.
There’s still a shred of doubt lingering in my mind, worried that I may end up being too much for him. What if my messier habits drive him crazy? What if he ends up regretting asking me to move in with him and essentially covering the bill for things while I finish school?
“What time did you say he was gonna be here?” Wes asks, opening the refrigerator to grab an energy drink, the only form of caffeine we keep stocked.
Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I find a text Milo sent a little while ago, telling me that he’s on his way. “He should be here any minute,” I say, dropping my phone onto the counter and nervously combing my hands through my hair. “Fuck, why am I so nervous?”
“Because you know your dad would lose his shit if he found out you were moving in with your psych professor?” Matt offers from his place on the couch, his gaming headphones pulled off one ear.
“That’s incredibly helpful,” I deadpan.
In all honesty, my father’s disapproval hasn’t been on my mind at all. My relationship with my mom has been really good since the fall-out with him. She practically screamed with excitement when I called her to tell her that I’m moving in with Milo.
The people in my life who matter have been supportive and happy for me. If my father doesn’t want to be one of those people, then that’s his choice. If he can’t accept my relationship and my decision to not join his company after graduation, then he doesn’t need to be part of my life.
My heart jolts in my chest when there’s a knock at the apartment door, and all thoughts vacate my mind. All of them except one: It’s time to go home.
Sliding off of the kitchen barstool, I move toward the door, but Matt beats me to it, tossing his headphones down onto the couch before yanking open the front door.
“Professor Cervantes,” Matt greets, holding the door open as he steps to the side, gesturing for Milo to come in. “Didn't realize you made house calls.”
“Mr. Richardson,” Milo replies, his lips pursing in what looks like annoyance before he walks in.
A hint of unease pools in my stomach, seeing the way his features scrunch. Should I have told him the full names of my roommates? I didn’t even think about either of them having been students of his in the past.
“Lovely to see you not hungover this early in the morning. You left quite the impression in my class a while back.” Milo is the perfect picture of control, one hand sliding into the front pocket of his dark jeans as he eyes Matt.
“C’mon, I was pledging back then, and I said I was sorry,” Matt rubs at the back of his neck, wincing slightly.
“And I will continue my forgiveness as long as you’re not making jokes at my expense.
Deal?” Holding his hand out, Milo looks from Matt to me, offering a secret smile in my direction.
I take it as an invitation to move closer to him, the unease vanishing as quickly as it arrived, and I slip around my roommate to stand beside Milo.
“Fine, deal,” Matt sighs dramatically, shaking Milo’s hand before grinning as his eyes flick between us. “I’m happy for you two, really.”
Wes appears behind Matt, clapping his hands on Matt’s shoulders and pulling him back from the doorway. “Then why don’t you move outta the way and let them grab Callahan’s shit.”
Ignoring them, I grab Milo’s hand and pull him into the apartment. As much as I’m going to miss living with these two, I’m eager to get out of here and get settled at Milo’s house.
Our house. Damn, that’s going to take some getting used to.
“I just have to throw my clothes in my bags, and I’ll be ready,” I tell him, leading him to my bedroom.
I glance over my shoulder just in time to catch Milo raising his brow. “We aren’t in such a hurry that you can’t take the time to pack your things properly.”
Rolling my eyes, I scoff before smiling and say, “Okay, okay. I’ll fold my clothes and then pack them.”
Butterflies seem to have taken up a permanent residence in my stomach by the time we get home.
As much as I want to just toss my bags down in the bedroom and settle onto the couch with Milo, I have to consciously remind myself that I’m now sharing a space with someone.
He’s more comfortable with things being in order, whereas I’ve spent the last few years in what I like to call organized chaos.
Despite my wanting to empty my bags out onto the neatly made bed, I take my time with putting my clothes away in the dresser and closet where Milo cleared out space.
My art supplies are the only things I’m not sure what to do with.
I hate the idea of everything being put away where I can’t easily get to it when inspiration strikes.
At the very least, I need somewhere to keep my sketchbooks and the pencil set that he bought for me, but I don’t know how comfortable I can make myself.
I don’t want to completely disrupt his life.
Even if he’s basically inviting me to do so by asking me to move in with him.
His strong arms wrap around me from behind, gently pulling me to his chest and startling me from my wandering thoughts. "I know I can be particular, but I'm not unreasonable, Reid. This is your home too, and I'd like you to feel comfortable here.”
My body is rigid against his, tension coiling deep in my stomach. “I’m sorry I’m so nervous,” I murmur, my eyes locked on the last bag I have to unpack. “This is such a huge step, and I’m worried I’m gonna do something to scare you away.”
“It is a huge step, and quite honestly, I’m sure we’ll have our fair share of small disagreements,” Milo confesses.
His arms remain wrapped around me as he continues, “But how fortunate are we to have made it to a place where our biggest concern is an argument over laundry, when a few months ago we were forbidden from being together at all.”
The gentle tone of his voice eases the tension radiating through my body and chases away the doubt plaguing my mind. My shoulders slump as a heavy sigh expels from my chest, my body melting back against his.
He probably thinks I’m being ridiculous for worrying over something so small after everything we’ve been through.
It wasn’t that long ago that I thought I had fucked up so badly, I didn’t think he would forgive me.
And even before the gala, we had plenty of obstacles standing in our way.
We managed to make it through months of uncertainty, guided only by our love for one another.
“You’re right,” I say, settling my arms over his where they’re wrapped around my midsection.
My fingers trail over his forearms, my pulse returning to a steady beat.
Turning in his arms, I cup the side of his face in my palm, my thumb swiping over his cheek as I meet his gaze.
“You somehow always manage to calm me down.” It never seems to matter how badly I’m spiraling or what thoughts are flying through my mind, Milo has this way of calming me and making me feel safe no matter what the circumstance.
A soft smile spreads across Milo’s lips, and he takes my hand in his. “Can I show you something that might ease your mind?” he asks.
“Lead the way.”
He leads me through the house to the sunroom, an area I’ve seen a handful of times but never gave much attention to.
When I’ve been here in the past, it felt like we were working with stolen moments, and each one was spent tangled up in each other, either in the bedroom or the living room.
I’m definitely paying attention now, though.
Milo has cleared out the room with the exception of two chairs sitting side by side and a small coffee table, but it’s the new additions to the room that have my heart warming in my chest and a smile spreading across my face.
There’s a desk and an easel set up on one end of the room.
“I hope inspiration will find you here,” he says, squeezing my hand in his.
With one simple gesture, he’s managed to turn his home into ours, giving me a space that feels like mine. That he knew that I would need this… somewhere in the house that feels like mine, when everything else here is his, it means the world to me.
“Milo,” I rasp, my voice catching in my throat as words vacate my mind. I can’t begin to explain how much this means to me. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I would do anything for you, baby. Have you not figured that out yet?”
The words settle in my chest, spreading warmth through every inch of my body. Using his hold on my hand, Milo pulls me toward him, my free hand instinctively landing on his waist as his lips find mine.
Losing myself in him is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I know I would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of the day just like this, wrapped up in his embrace.
But a woman’s voice calling, “I’m here, and I brought coffee!
” has us pulling slowly apart. He’s still close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath skating across my lips, and it has me desperate for more.
Thankfully, for the first time, we don’t have to rush. We’re no longer on borrowed time, fighting for every moment we can manage together. When the day is over, I don’t have to leave. From here on out, my days will start and end with Emiliano by my side.
Which means, whoever has just shown up and interrupted our moment, can stay.
I guess.
“I hope you don’t mind. My best friend, Teresa, wanted to stop by, and she offered to bring us some treats when she found out you were moving in. She knows I wouldn't let her in otherwise,” Milo says with a smirk.
“I don't mind,” I reply. If our relationship was one that hadn't needed to be kept hidden for months, we likely would've already had plenty of interactions with each other's friends. It’s almost a little strange to just now be meeting the person he considers his best friend, but I'm thankful to finally have the chance to be fully immersed in his life.
“Does she know?” I ask under my breath. “I mean, that you were my—”
“I know that he helplessly fell for you from the start, yes,” Teresa comments as she comes into view, her bright lipstick framing her friendly smile. She's standing in the doorway with a drink carrier and bakery bag in her hands. “Honored to finally meet you, Reid.”
Heat rises to my cheeks at her comment of Milo falling for me from the start. I hope he knows the feeling is mutual and how much I've craved his comfort since the first night we spent messaging each other.
“It's nice to meet you, too,” I say.
To my surprise, she pulls an Alani from the drink carrier and hands it to me.
“Milo mentioned you aren't a coffee drinker, and I couldn't show up with our caffeine fixes without bringing you one as well.” She laughs, and just like that, any anxiety I may have felt over meeting his best friend evaporates.
The three of us end up moving into the living room, where I settle on the couch beside Milo. His arm is stretched out behind me, his fingers lightly grazing my shoulder as he sips the coffee Teresa brought for him while she and I fall into easy conversation.
Apparently, she's an Arts professor at Oakhart, and it immediately sparks my interest. She asks about my medium preferences and whether or not I have a portfolio I'd be willing to share.
I start to tell her that I don't, considering I've never bothered to put together a formal portfolio of my work and only have the various sketchbooks I've held on to over the years.
In truth, I've never considered actually doing anything with my art.
It's always just been something that I do for me.
But her interest, and the way Milo whispers sweet words of affirmation and encouragement in my ear, gives me the courage to show her some of my more recent work.
Thankfully, the pieces I've done of Milo are in a separate sketchbook, meant for only he and I to see.
By the time Teresa leaves hours later, I have an invitation to stop in and observe her classes any time I'd like. And with no longer needing to work at the campus café, I might actually be able to squeeze one or two into my schedule.
Since meeting and falling in love with Milo, all the pieces of my life—including pieces I didn’t realize were missing—seem to be falling into place, and I’ve never felt more like me than I do when I’m with him.