Good. His one-word reply would have further frustrated me, but he’d added an image. And my breath hung up on my rapidly expanding heart. It was him. Not a goofy selfie, but a cartoon-style drawing. Same sporty haircut, same winter coat, and a text bubble that said “I’m sorry.”

Boom. Forget hoping I wasn’t falling too hard for him. No, I was falling soft, landing in a vat of cotton candy, all sticky and sweet.

Thanks. Cute drawing. My heart wanted to say so much more, but my gut was still working itself out.

Milo’s reply came fast. I should have kissed you goodbye. Been thinking about that all afternoon. Another missed chance.

Sad Milo was back, and he wormed his way past my pitiful attempts to protect myself. There will be more chances.

That earned me a happy-face emoji. Soon?

I laughed aloud to my empty room. It felt smaller and colder without him in it. Wednesday after cosplay?

I owe you pizza.

I replied with a smiley face of my own. Wanna have it in my room?

There was a longish pause, but the wait was worth it because cartoon Milo was back, this time with heart eyes. I touched my phone, like that might bring him here sooner.

It’s a date. I started counting down the hours as soon as I sent the text, knew I’d be angling to see him even before that. I had it bad, and that was a huge problem. I should know better than to give Milo Lionetti extra chances, but here we were, and hell if I could pull back now.

* * *

“Looking good, Neptune.” I gave Milo an exaggerated once-over as I emerged from my stall in the men’s room at the children’s hospital Wednesday. He looked damn good in his toga, perhaps more so now that I knew exactly what he had under there. I could preach how superficial looks were all day long, but there was no denying Milo’s attractiveness.

“That’s Prince Neptune to you.” He nodded, expression all haughty and regal. Last night, he’d drawn cartoon Milo in the toga, and his chin had exactly that same tilt.

“Oh, is that how you want to play this?” I gently poked him in the chest. We were alone in the restroom, and I’d missed him for three days now. I’d earned a little flirtation.

“Maybe.” His mouth quirked like he knew exactly how my thoughts kept flitting to images of that toga on the floor.

“Remember that later.” I made him silent promises with my eyes that I fully intended to make good on. Three days with a lot of texting and an hours-long phone conversation last night had done nothing to quash my desire for him. I needed a Milo fix and soon.