Page 39 of Aperture

Milo kept up easily enough, but every once in a while, he would look up at me with a face that indicated he wasn’t loving it. I think walking is more our speed. We will be strolling home at a leisurely pace.

I tie Milo up outside and go in to get him a bowl of water and order my Irish cream breve. I deserve it, dammit. My muscles are screaming, and I require sugar and caffeine. I take the bowl outside while they are making my coffee and catch sight of a scene that is equally beautiful and infuriating.

Wyatt is kneeling, rubbing my dog's ears and neck, and he leans in and kisses him right between the eyes. Milo licks his face lovingly, as if we didn’t have this conversation last night. Traitor. I clear my throat to put an end to the love fest. They both look up, guilty, and Wyatt stands up and smiles.

I set the water down in front of Milo and square my shoulders for the incoming confrontation with Wyatt.

“Stop following me,” I say sternly. He has the audacity to look slightly amused.

“I am not following you, Millie. I am getting a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” I tell him. He shrugs as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“What about yesterday?” I challenge.

“What about it?” he counters.

“Why were you on the street, in your car, watching me and Theo eat ice cream?”

“I was in the area on official police business.”

“I swear to God, Wyatt, you are this close to getting kicked in the nuts.” I hold my hand up to show him that my thumb and forefinger are one inch apart.

Wyatt chuckles and shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to ruin your date.”

“Yes, you were. Theo and I are a couple now, and I will not have you ruin it.” That finally gets his attention.

“Millie,” he says sternly. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

I hear the barista call my name, alerting me that my coffee is ready.

“Wyatt, we will not be talking. Whatever the issue is between you and Theo is exactly that: YOUR ISSUE. I am not interested in being part of the score you settle with him.”

“Score? Mil—” I put my finger up to silence him.

“Now. I am going to grab my coffee. When I get back, you will not be here.” Wyatt looks so sad, I can’t look at him, or this tough facade will break.

“Say goodbye to Milo and go away, Wyatt.” With that, I turn and march into the coffee shop. My hands are shaking, and my heart is beating too fast, two things which normally happen around Wyatt, but they are particularly pronounced today. I take a moment to calm my breathing.

When I go back outside, he is gone. I'm happy that he listened to me, but I also can’t help but feel some disappointment tight in my chest. I sit at the table and sip my coffee, replaying our conversation while thinking about how good he looked.

I chastise myself again, for about the hundredth time, for allowing myself to think about him. After I’ve settled down and drank my coffee, Milo and I slowly make our way home.

As soon as we walk through the door, I sense something is off. My house feels different, somehow. Goosebumps spread across my flesh. Milo feels it, too. He growls deeply and heads into my room before swiftly turning into my dark room. He sniffs furiously as I turn on the light and illuminate the space.

At first, nothing seems out of place. Then I notice it. On my desk is a picture. It’s older and crinkled, but I can make out the faces. It’s Wyatt and Theo. They look like teenagers, younger and carefree. They are in the center of a group of guys, some holding beers and some puffing on cigars, clearly in a party atmosphere. Wyatt and Theo are in the center of the group.

Theo is wearing an orange and black Princeton sweatshirt, and Wyatt has his arm slung over his shoulder, smiling widely into the camera. They look like best friends, and my heart sinks as I ponder how close they once were. Wyatt, the taller and bigger of the two, almost looks like a big brother to Theo, hazel eyes twinkling with his boyish good looks. They both look drunk or high or both. I would smile at the image if I wasn’t so freaked out.

Milo continues to sniff around and I can’t help but feel that whoever was here was all over this room. It feels cold and foreign. I snap out of my temporary paralytic state, drop the photo, and run into the living room to grab my phone. Ten minutes later Theo arrives, crushing my head to his chest when I open the door.

“Show me,” he says. We walk into the room and he walks around, surveying the area but careful not to touch anything. I put Milo in the bathroom, under Theo’s advice, to keep him away from the scene. He doesn’t like that, though, and howls from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Did you set your alarm before you left this morning?”

I think for a moment. “Shit, I’m not sure. I wasn’t really thinking clearly. I just wanted to leave for a run.”