American Girl On Saturn (17 page)

Noah stands poolside with his hands on his hips.

“Well, Milo David
Grayson,” he says. “From the looks of things, it seems you were hiding from me.”

“Well,
Noah Pierre Winters,” Milo says as water drips down his face. “I was hiding from you, even though I didn’t know that you were you.”

Now, I actually do relax my shoulders since I know it’s not my mom sneaking around and finding out my secrets. If it had to be anyone, Noah would’ve been my first choice.

“We thought you were my mom,” I say. “Or Godfrey. You know, someone who didn’t need to find us together…in the pool…after midnight.”

For this to be so non-scandalous, it feels like a tabloid-worthy story. Truthfully, a lot of things with Milo have felt tabloid-worthy, and he’s the least tabloid-worthy of all the guys in Spaceships Around Saturn. That’ll probably change once we go public.

Noah sits on the concrete and pulls his knees back into himself, like how Tate curls up in the corners of the sectional.

“Is this what you guys do for fun?” he asks. “Sneak out while everyone else sleeps?”

Milo shrugs. “Apparently everyone else isn’t sleeping tonight,” he says.

There’s a hint of sarcasm, or maybe annoyance, in his voice. Noah flashes him a smartass kind of smirk and pushes himself back up into a standing position.

“You guys are boring,” he tells us. “I don’t know why I expected any kind of action. I mean, it
is
Milo, after all.”

I debate telling him that the action happens behind closed doors with Aralie, but I decide against it to protect my sister’s reputation. I don’t know what happens behind her closed door anymore than she knows what happens behind mine. When she’s ready to announce that she’s dating Tate, she can. I’ll just wait impatiently until then.

Noah yawns. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you lovers in the morning.”

As he walks back toward the door, there’s a loud double chirp in the night. Noah spins around and looks at me. He heard it too. He walks slowly and quietly back toward the pool. I grab Milo’s arm to keep him still next to me. The water sloshes around us.

“What was that?” Noah whispers.

“What was what?” Milo asks – out loud.

Noah and I both shush him, and the double chirp echoes again. I feel the panic spread on my face. My eyes widen, and I’m fully aware that I have that doe-eyed Emery face going on, but I can’t stop it.

I know the double chirp.

It’s Dad’s car.

“That’s my dad,” I whisper. “He wasn’t supposed to come back until tomorrow.”

Noah backs up toward the door, but he doesn’t have a plan of action. Sure, he can go inside, but there’s a very likely possibility that he’ll run into my dad.

“Wait!” I whisper. “Noah, please. Come here. I need you to do something for me.”

He’s going to hate me for this. Maybe he’ll forgive me. I don’t have a choice. I can’t get caught alone with Milo. There’s only one thing I can do.

Noah leans closer to the pool.

“Your dad’s gonna kill you guys. I’m not getting busted with you,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” I say. I motion him closer with my hand.

He leans over the water, ready to hear this big secret plan of action. But I don’t say a word. I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into the pool.

“Noah,” I say to his door, knocking for the third time. “Will you just open the door already? I have your clothes out here.”

The shadow of his footsteps linger on the other side, but he still doesn’t unlock or open the door. I knew he’d be mad when I pulled him into the pool last night, but I didn’t see any other way to keep Milo and me a secret.

Dad is so clueless to girl stuff. He really believed that the three of us couldn’t sleep and decided to go swimming without Emery hanging all over us. In fact, he laughed and said he didn’t blame us. Then he told us not to stay up too terribly late because he had ‘big things’ happening in the morning. And finally, he questioned Noah’s swimming apparel.

“I was just really excited and jumped in,” Noah had said, forcing a smile while his shirt clung to his skin.

And that’s why Milo and I got up extra, extra early to do Noah’s laundry. I bang on the door one more time, but Noah tells me to go away because he wants to stay dry. I give up.

I haul the blue laundry basket down to the next door, which is open. Milo looks up at me from the small duffel bag he’s packing.

“Noah’s being a diva,” I tell him. “Pack his clothes with yours.”

“Great,” Milo says. “I’ll get to listen to him bitch and moan for the next two days.”

That means I won’t get to listen to Noah’s whining for the next two days. I get where my dad is coming from, wanting to give the guys a break from our house, but this two-day “guys only” fishing trip is going to be misery for the Branson sisters. Well, at least for Emery and me.

I drag Noah’s laundry over to the bed and hand item by item to Milo. He grabs another bag and packs Noah’s clothes.

“Maybe it’ll go by really fast,” he says, reading the sad expression that I know is splashed on my face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Or lockdown could end and they’ll just send you back on tour,” I counter.

That’d be my luck. Dad and Godfrey would take the SAS guys to our cabin for a two-day ordeal of video games, fishing, and grilling, and the United States government would catch whoever shot at the guys. Instead of coming back here, agents would just send them on to the next city on the tour and ship their belongings to them from our house.

“If they send me somewhere else, I’ll be on the first flight back to you, okay?” Milo says.

He leans over and gives me a quick forehead kiss before he continues packing.

This is what it’ll be like when lockdown really is over. Except I imagine there will be a lot more people in our house. All of SAS’s staff will be here. Management teams will be shuttling the guys into black cars with tinted windows. Security will line the property. I wonder if Milo will even have a chance to slip me a forehead kiss then.

“Chloe?” Milo stares at me, trying to bring me back to Earth.

“Sorry,” I say, handing him another shirt of Noah’s. “I was just thinking.”

“You okay?” he asks.

He takes Noah’s shirt but doesn’t bother to pack it. He just hugs it close to
his chest and watches me while he waits for an answer.

No, I’m not okay because you’re leaving me for two days. I’m not okay because lockdown will eventually end. I’m not okay because I’m terrified about our future and what’s going to happen once you’re back on tour and away from me. I’m one girl out of the literal millions who want you. How could I ever be okay?

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I just hate losing two days of lockdown with you.”

“You’re not a good liar, you know that?” he asks, cramming Noah’s shirt into the bag.

A knock on the door makes me turn around. Benji stands in the doorframe, a hand against either side of the door. The word SLUT stretches in black letters across the faded red T-shirt. It shouldn’t make me smile so much.

“Hey man, five minutes, and we’re
outta here,” Benji says to Milo, completely ignoring the fact that I’m standing here. “And if we have to share beds, I call dibs on you.”

Milo laughs. “Sounds good,” he says. “See you downstairs.”

Benji gives me a half-wave before disappearing. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him since he got here. These two days will be pure bliss for him – no Emery, no Aralie vs. Jules arguments, no drama whatsoever. It’ll just be him and his boys chilling like they’re on a vacation from their crazy lives.

“Why is Benji claiming you? I thought Jules was his guy,” I say.

I sit down on the bed and hope these five minutes stretch on forever and ever. Milo zips up the first duffel bag and sticks Noah’s last shirt into the other one.

“Benji and I share a place back in Montréal,” he says. “We had an apartment before that, and he used to have to crash with me if he had family visiting. I’m a heavy sleeper, and I never move. Noah kicks all night, and Tate will leave bruises on you.”

Oh the money I could make if I had pictures of these guys in bed together. The bromance shippers would go insane over it. But I really don’t think I could do it. I like Jenji together too much to destroy them.

“Don’t worry,” Milo says. “Just because Benji might be in my bed doesn’t mean that I don’t want you.”

He zips up Noah’s bag and slings it over his shoulder. I wait on his bed while he delivers Noah’s belongings back to the diva himself. This room is immaculate, like Milo cleaned up all forensic evidence that he’d been here just in case he doesn’t come back. He even made the bed. I wonder if the sheets smell like him. I might have to sleep in here tonight.

“Alright, Ms. Branson,” he says from his doorway. “Looks like I’m headed out. You care to see me off?”

He walks across the room, picks up his duffel bag, and reaches out for me with his other hand. I let him pull me up from the bed. He drops the bag and wraps me up in a hug that’s warmer than freshly baked cookies.

“Two days,” he says. “And then I’m yours again. Technically, I’ll still be yours even when I’m sleeping with Benji.”

He smiles then gives me the quickest of all quick kisses, just to be on the safe side. He grabs his bag, and I follow him to the door. I reach for the light switch, and that’s when I notice the one thing he left behind.

“You’re not taking your guitar?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nah, doubt I’ll have a chance to even play it.”

We trudge slowly down the staircase to deliver him to his captors, and I feel like I did walking into the pizza parlor to meet up with Lauren and Paige. I never thought I’d compare Dad and Godfrey to Lauren and Paige. Eww.

Everyone else is downstairs surrounded by bags and fishing poles. Dad holds a cell phone to his ear and says something about an ETA. Their transportation must be close by. Godfrey strolls through the room in a polo shirt, old man golfer shorts like Noah wore in their new video, and a fishing cap. He has a plastic bag in his hand.

“Mr. Kingsley,” he says. “Your request.”

Tate’s face lights up like a creepy jack-o-lantern.

“G-man, you are the best!” Tate shouts.

He digs around in the bag and pulls out a package of gummy worms. He doesn’t say a word as he tears through the plastic and pulls a red and orange worm out. He tilts his head back and feeds it to himself like a mother bird would feed a baby bird.

“Dude, really?” Jules says, walking over to Tate. “You know you can’t catch fish with gummy worms, right?”

Tate laughs as he gnaws on the candy.

“I know,” he says. “But I was looking at the bait earlier, and they were all sparkly and gummy, and all I could think of was how good they’d taste if they were candy.”

Seriously? Tate wants to eat fishing bait, and he still has eight million Twitter followers who probably want to date him. I’ll never understand what Aralie sees in him.

Dad walks back toward us, finally off of the phone, with a tackle box in hand. He’s dressed like a civilian. He’ll probably be back in his government voice before they even get to the cabin. That’s an hour’s drive.

“Alright,” Dad says. “I have one more surprise for you guys before we go.”

Jules looks up. “We don’t have to come back here?”

“Sorry Mr. Rossi, but no, that’s not it,” Dad says. “I had to pull a lot of strings just to get permission to let you guys leave the house, and it took a lot of clearance to get this approved, but someone else will be accompanying us to the cabin.”

Dad ventures toward the front door and peeks outside. He doesn’t say anything until the sound of engines purr in our driveway. Two black SUVs and one little black car sit in front of the house – super-tinted windows, just as I imagined.

We all file onto the front porch, and the guys haul their bags along. Two agents emerge from the car and move toward the back of the SUVs. They each open the doors and motion for the guys to bring their bags. The back door of one of the SUVs opens, and Benji drops everything.

“Tank!” he screams, diving into the muscle man. “Wait, are you hooked up?”

Benji motions to his own chest, referring back to the day that Tank brought Milo’s guitar and was wearing a wire.

“Nah, bro,” Tank says. “They let me off the ball and chain for the next two days.”

He helps Benji load stuff into the back of the SUV, and then the bromance of Jenji hurry into the SUV with their favorite bodyguard. Emery pouts because she didn’t get a goodbye hug, and Aralie steals a few of Tate’s gummy worms.

“Shoot,” Milo says. He turns to my dad. “I’m really sorry. I forgot my guitar. I can’t go two days without it. I’ll be right back.”

He turns and makes a mad dash back up the front steps. Five minutes ago, he said he wouldn’t have a chance to play it. Now he can’t live without it?

Noah smirks from behind a small carton of strawberry milk before he disappears into the second SUV with Tate and Godfrey. I’d love to be a fly on the wall at the cabin. Tate’s friendship with “G-man” would be enough to humor me for two days.

Dad lingers around for a moment, waiting for Milo, but the All-American Non-American boy hasn’t returned.

“Can someone go see where he is?” Dad asks, motioning back to the house.

Noah’s head pops out of the SUV. “Yeah Chloe, go tell Milo to hurry up.”

I am so dumb. I nod to my dad and run up the front porch’s steps, inside the house, and up the staircase to our hallway. Milo knew he’d be coming back for his guitar. Why didn’t I get the hint?

“Milo,” I say, rushing into his room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were–”

He grabs me and pulls me into a kiss before I can get the rest of my words out. It’s a panicked kiss, rushed and ravenous and crazed. His fingers twist into my hair, and he pulls away just long enough to inhale and dive back in.

I manage to push him back. “My dad’s waiting on you.”

“I know,” he says. “I just needed a really awesome goodbye-for-now kiss.”

“That’s why you left the guitar,” I reason aloud.

He laughs. “Yeah, I figured you’d catch the hint and follow me back upstairs.”

My brain was clouded with worry that I’d never see him again. Catching hints was the furthest thing from my mind. Milo grabs his guitar and leads the way back downstairs. He hugs me quickly in the foyer and steals a kiss before we go outside. Then it’s as if “we” don’t exist.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Branson,” he says, rushing past my dad and into the SUV with Tate and Noah. He never even looks back.

Dad gives Mom last minute instructions and phone numbers while I wait on the steps with Aralie and Emery. Aralie chews on a gummy worm, and Emery’s face quivers as she fights tears. If it hurts this much to let the guys go for two days, there’s no way we’ll keep our sanity once they’re back on tour or in other countries. I don’t even want to let them cross the border back into Canada. Emery is going to be a disaster when lockdown is over. I feel her pain already.

Two hours later, across the dining room table, Emery furiously colors a picture of an elephant in her coloring book. The room would be silent if not for the scratching of her crayons. She glares at the paper, like she’s trying to burn holes into the elephant.

Mom sits at the end of the table, sipping from a cup of tea and pretending to read a crafting magazine. Her eyes focus on nothing too often for her to actually be reading.

Aralie stomps down the stairs too loudly – or maybe it’s just the silence – and bounds into the dining room.

“Is our house always this damn quiet?” she asks, hands on her hips.

“Aralie, language,” Mom reminds her. “We’re just used to having company.”

“Mom,” Aralie says in that ‘who are you kidding’ tone. “The house was never this quiet before lockdown. Emery isn’t even talking. It’s like someone died. Do you know how much our lives are going to suck after lockdown ends?”

Emery stabs the elephant with her gray crayon, over and over, like she’s murdering the paper. It rips, and the crayon marks on the table.

“My life sucks right now!” Emery screams, throwing her crayon against the wall.

“Whoa, Emery. Calm down, sweetheart,” Mom says, abandoning her tea and magazine to gather the broken pieces of the gray crayon. “They’ll be back Thursday.”

Aralie scoffs. “Yeah but for how long? Lockdown won’t last forever.”