Life was pretty uneventful for the remainder of the semester; people still gossiped about Black Dove's disappearance, Milo and I were very much a happy couple, I attended therapy regularly and final exams were shit as always. It was now mid-November, and everyone was enjoying their freedom since exams were done and dusted.
The Parliament - albeit retired from our clandestine job - were planning on going to a post-exam party at a club tonight, and Lark had been frustrated with her outfit choices for the night out, dragging me (and in turn, Milo) out for some retail therapy. I never said no to a good shopping trip, and Milo had begrudgingly agreed to tag along.
Lark and I grinned as we perused the stacked racks in the department store, Milo scowling as he wandered off, looking for a seat to rest his ass on. He found one in front of the changing rooms, glaring at another guy who had been eyeing it, sending him scuttling off with the force of the Schultz stare.
"I'm thinking... green," Lark said, pursing her lips as she sorted through a rack of dresses.
"To match your eyes?"
Lark grinned, nodding and batting her lashes, green eyes sparkling.
"No one gets me like you do, Dovey," Lark said loudly, turning to Milo teasingly. My boyfriend, eyes glued to his phone, just snorted and thrust his middle finger her way. Raising my brow at the strawberry-blonde girl, Lark just waved away my look. "What? It's my job as your ex and official third wheel to take the piss out of the both of you every chance I get."
"Fair enough," I conceded, shrugging as I pulled out quite a garish pink silk shirt. Holding it up to my body, I waved Lark's attention over.
"I like it," Lark said appreciatively at the showy piece of clothing. "Very dramatic. Brings out your eyes."
"Right? Only one other person gets me like you do," I said, my voice carrying over to Milo's ears, the boy's mouth quirking up as he spared me a glance. Shaking the shirt in front of me and posing, I got Milo to finally crack a smile.
"Looks good," Milo said, tilting his head to the side, imaging how it would look on me. "You look good in anyt-"
"Okay, stop there," Lark said loudly, throwing her discarded jacket at Milo, who copped it in the face. "You. Saying cheesy stuff with your grumpy face is... disconcerting. Gives me the heebie jeebies, ugh." Lark shivered, jerking her hand in a gesture to get her jacket back, Milo throwing it back with great force. Lark just laughed daintily, catching it smoothly and slipping her slender arms back through it, flicking her hair out.
Milo retorted with a glare, Lark abandoning her quest to find a dress for the club and sauntering over to him with her arms crossed, and I watched the two of them bicker fondly. They only stopped when I quipped that I was in fact the real third wheel in our trio, both Lark and Milo looking horrified. That had been the only thing they had agreed on, before realising that they did, and going back to sling pre-school grade insults at each other.
The rest of the day progressed much the same way, though Lark managed to find a dress, plus some new hair accessories and make up along the way. I only bought the shirt and a new belt, while Milo left every store empty handed, not one for 'unnecessary spending'.
As we exited the last store, all of us were starving from walking around all morning. It was natural for me to take Milo's hand as we meandered our way across the shopping centre to a restaurant, the feeling of my boyfriend's slightly cold palm pressing against mine now second nature. I could see Lark's mouth twitching with a teasing line, but she evidently decided against saying anything, simply smiling to herself as she walked beside us.
We settled into our table at the restaurant, Milo and I nestling ourselves in the plush cushions in the small booth and Lark sitting on a wooden chair at the other side. I felt warm and blissed out at Milo's hand resting comfortably on my thigh beneath the table. It reassured me in a way that no one else had, that Milo wanted to be near me as much as I wanted to be near him. That I wasn't too much, because he matched me step for step, word for word, touch for touch.
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Swooped | ✓
Fantasy[BxB] Life was pretty average for Culver Fleet, an 18-year-old certified couch potato slash pothead. He has spent every waking breath dodging responsibilities, until one fateful day he is swooped by a magpie and is... changed. He thought he just cau...
