Serial Dating

Epilogue

The spring semester wouldn't start for another two weeks, so Lee spent all of that time between Sigma Alpha, the gym, and Starbucks. He decided to wait to put his two weeks' notice in until after his father's deposit came in—he didn't want to depend too heavily on it only to get screwed over. But if anything, his father was a man of his word. By the following week, Lee's bank account was no longer anemic, and Lee could rest easy knowing that he could devote all of his spare time to two specific things: Course work and Park.

Lee rubbed the soles of his shoes against the rubbery, textured track under his feet. The track was gritty against his sneakers as he watched from afar as Milo stood, stretching in front of Roland Ball. Thee Roland Ball, who seemed entirely too eager about the day's events.

"Didn't you score a four minute record at your high school?" Roland asked.

"Yeah, but with all the training for Mackernasey, I should technically be able to beat that, right?" Milo said, arms over his head. He pushed down over one foot, lunging to the side. Lee tipped his head to the side as he followed the motion of Milo's round ass before popping his attention back to Roland, who shrugged at Milo.

"I dunno. You've put on some weight since the start of the semester."

"Are you calling me fat?" Milo said.

"Muscle weight. There's a difference," Roland said.

Someone started banging their hands on the divider between the track and the stands. Lee looked and found Simon leaning over it, and some of the guys down the line started drumming their hands on the wall and causing a roar to echo across the arena. It sounded like an entire stampede of horses just barreled through and left the sound of their hooves rattling in Lee's head.

Roland waved his hands to shut them up, yelling, "Alright! Alright! We're starting! Calm your tits, gentlemen!"

"Don't tell my tits what to do!" Simon shouted back.

Nearest where Lee stood, Rushil put a hand to his face, leant up against the divider. Alex stood beside him, arms crossed, staring at the chaos erupting down the stands. "Are they always this loud?" they asked.

"Louder, usually," Lee confessed with a grin.

Lee felt a tug on his hand and, when he turned, he found Milo standing in front of him, beaming brightly. Milo leant forward for a kiss that Lee stopped, a hand over Milo's mouth. Milo blinked at him as Lee said, "You can kiss me after you beat your record."

Behind him, the stand of football players let out a scandalous, "Oooo!"

Milo pouted at Lee. He turned away and Lee smacked him on the ass without even thinking. Milo jumped a little, squeaking as the guys at howled with laughter. Simon leant over and squeezed Lee on the shoulder, laughing up a storm. Lee brushed him off, blushing. Fuck, I really need to stop acting on impulse, he thought to himself.

Roland counted down the start. Milo shook out his legs and bounced on the balls of his feet, decked out in his old high school track gear. He braced himself with one leg extended back, the other pushed forward, the pads of his fingers grazing the gritty track mat. Roland crouched beside him with the timer and, on the end of the countdown, everyone was shouting and screaming as Milo took off like a shot out of a cannon.

The thing about running backs was not their endurance, but rather their speed. In high school, Milo had been in track for short distance sprints, and so it was only natural that he couldn't pace longer than two, three miles. He was too eager, too energetic, to even consider interspersing his energy between each lap around the track. A mile was just long enough for him to sprint consecutively without worrying about not making it to the finish line.

Truthfully, his running times could have gotten him a scholarship to Eugene, Oregon no problem, but Milo Park depended on teamwork. He preferred team sports over individual athletics any day. His dependency on a gym buddy was proof of that.

On Milo's first lap, Lee was shocked by the gust of air that whipped over him as Milo cruised past. He could see the tense muscles in Milo's arms and legs as he pumped harder, faster, as Roland shouted out the lap time after him. It'd take four laps and they were just over a minute.

Maybe he is conserving energy? Lee wondered, because Milo only seemed to gain speed after that lap.

The guys were all chanting and stomping. They turned the arena into a cacophony that would have deafened unsuspecting witnesses. Some people who lingered in the arena came out to watch from the stadium entrance tunnels, watching through the fences as Milo took the third lap, his hair flattened back from the wind. He was wearing a pair of compression shorts so that when the wind picked up on his Hunter green athletic shorts, rippling his shirt behind him, onlookers couldn't see the hickeys Lee had left behind on Milo's upper thighs.

Lee bit his thumbnail between his teeth as Milo whipped by him for the fourth lap. He swore he could see Milo smiling as Roland shouted out, "3:02!"

"Do you think he's gonna make it?" Rushil asked from the sidelines.

"He's been shaving two seconds off each lap," Alex said.

"He's gonna do it," Lee said. Knowing Park, Milo wouldn't say he should be able to do it if he wasn't planning to do it in the first place.

And then, Milo was arcing around the last loop and breaking off of the lane—jetting straight in Lee's direction.

Lee took a hurried step away from the wall so they wouldn't collide into it as Milo lunged at him and Roland called the time. Lee didn't even hear it—he was too busy on not scraping up his hands and elbows on the track mat where Milo flattened him.

Milo's skin was hot and sticky with sweat. There was a glistening sheen on his face as he panted, beaming at Lee as his chest heaved and his hair fell into a disarray. Lee stared at him before he saw Roland's shoes approach out of the corner of his eye. He followed the shape of them up the length of Roland's legs and then, at last, to the stopwatch in Roland's hand.

3:57.

Lee stared at it in shock. Of course he knew Milo would beat it, but that didn't change how amazing it was.

He felt Milo's hot breath against his cheek. He turned and met Milo's lips for a short, chaste kiss before Milo pulled back to breathe again. Milo pressed his forehead to Lee's chest and cursed before perking back up and, with more vigor, crushing his mouth to Lee's again. Lee pushed into it, raising up onto his elbows as Milo kissed the Hell out of him until he was just as breathless as Milo after a 3:57 minute mile.

The audience was whistling obnoxiously, but Lee didn't care.

As they separated, Lee blinked his eyes open. Milo's brown eyes were bright, wild, and wholly focused on Lee. A shaky breath left Lee's lips as he thought to himself:

You're amazing, Park.