Serial Dating

Trust Me, He's Whipped

New Years was spent with the Patels, a bottle of champaign, homemade potstickers, and the Super Bowl. Lee and Rushil fell asleep on the couch shortly after the New Years' ball dropped and when Lee woke up in the middle of the night, Rushil's mom had strewn a blanket over him and propped up the foot rest for him. Lee nestled in with a smile, warm and cozy, and oh-so relieved.

Rushil drove Lee to the Greyhound stop that next morning. They weren't hungover, by any means, but they both knew that at this hour of the morning, the entirity of Sigma was probably a shitshow. The guys were due to arrive in San Francisco before the ball drop, which meant that a New Years party was bound to roar into the wee hours of the morning.

Rushil yawned as he parked the car outside of the station and turned to Lee. "I can't believe Milo agreed to an arrival time before noon."

"You and I both know he's going to wake the fuck up and down three shots of espresso," Lee said as he propped open the door. He dragged his duffle out of the back with a huff and a sigh, swinging it over his shoulder. He leant back in to look at Rushil, who had his head tipped back against the headrest, smiling at Lee. "What?"

"Nothing. You're just my entertainment for the year, is all," he said.

Lee rolled. "Glad I could stir up some drama for you."

"It was worth it," Rushil said. "Now I know how to torment Milo to get him to do what I want."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Lee laughed.

Rushil leant over with a maniacal grin and said, "Tell you to cockblock him."

Lee shoved his hand in Rushil's face and pushed him away. They were both laughing, though, and Lee's cheeks hurt from smiling so wide—and also, maybe, from the sunburn. "Bye, Rushil. And thanks for letting me stick around for so long."

"Hey, you should come for Spring Break! My parents love you," he said. Lee agreed to it before shutting the door and stepping back. He waved as Rushil pulled away from the curb and down the road.

On the three hour trip north, Lee stuck his earbuds in and slept. When he awoke in San Francisco, he felt momentarily groggy and disoriented, but that promptly vanished when he recognized the campus in the far distance stretched along one of the river channels. Lee straightened in his seat as the bus pulled into the San Francisco facility and, excitement buzzing like electricity in his chest, looked for Milo around the facility.

The bus came to a stop and Lee was one of the first to emerge. The air was colder and lighter here, latent with moisture from the fog that rolled in from the ocean. Lee let out a shuddering breath as he looked down the stretch of bus stops before crossing the street to the building.

The station was small, all things considered. The parking lot, however, was wide and housed two strips of docking stations. Lee padded across the pavement, his heart thrumming in his throat as he searched for Milo Park's head of fluffy black hair among the few occupied benches outside of the station.

And then, he saw someone rise from the end of the sidewalk.

"Milo?" Lee said. Even if he said it quietly, it carried.

Sure enough, it was Milo-fucking-Park, the freshmen running back on the winning Top Ten team, and he was vaulting over the bench and sprinting to where Lee didn't even bother moving. He dropped his duffle so that when Milo came skidding up, there was nothing holding him back from throwing his arms around Milo's torso and sweeping with the momentum that sent them spinning around. Milo's feet left the ground and skidded for purchase as their circle came to a quick stop.