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Blitzø isn't fooling anyone, and definitely not fooling Millie.
"'Just a client,' my ass," she's mumbled more than once.
It was always obvious. And then she got to see them interact during that lunch.
Oh, Blitzø. He'll get there eventually.
Meanwhile… she's got something else on her mind. (Someone? Maybe?)
It wasn't love at first sight, but Moxxie has a certain draw to him that Millie can't ignore (plus the fact the poor guy's got a crush on her). He's nerdy, he's lame, he's crazy into her, and he's cute as hell.
"He was so nervous, it's like he was about to shit himself," Blitzø snorts as he gives her Moxxie's number.
Millie rolls her eyes. "Some people aren't afraid to show their feelings."
"Yeah. Whatever."
She decides to tease Moxxie right away.
hey cutie, it's Millie
The "…" appears and disappears several times. (Maybe she should've taken it easy on him.)
Hello. This is Moxxie, appears eventually.
was hoping it'd be, because Blitz gave me this number. wouldn't blame you if you gave him the wrong one, though, he can be annoying.
Moxxie is typing again.
Was there a specific reason you asked Blitz for my number?
just wanted to talk some more, Millie responds truthfully.
What would you like to talk about?
(Poor thing must still be freaking out from when she called him cute.)
whatever we want :)
They have a surprising amount in common. Well, no, not in the typical ways… Millie's into sports, and Moxxie passes out if he runs too hard. Moxxie's into musicals, and Millie would rather watch Cleaver Hand 6: Ultimate Cleavage than Phantom of the Opera.
But they get along. And they like each other, she thinks. And that's more important.
They both have opinions about Blitzø and Stolas.
Turns out Stolas and Moxxie share a class—"Opera as Literature" or something equally pretentious-sounding, but the way Moxxie describes it makes it sound actually interesting.
Moxxie knew Stolas before he ever knew Blitzø, and he's known Blitzø longer than Millie's known Stolas.
It takes a little coaxing to get Moxxie to "gossip" (as he put it) about their friends, but it's normal and even healthy, Millie says. She has a big extended family and they're always talking behind each other's backs, but not in a bad way.
"I don't know Stolas as well as you do," Millie says, phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder as she folds her laundry. "How's he feel about Blitzø?" How Blitzø feels is obvious (to her, at least).
"Well," Moxxie says. (He still sounds like he's not sure about talking about them like this.) "He has feelings for Blitzø—at least, I'm pretty sure. I've seen him with and without Blitzø and it's very different."
It's not hard to see there's something there.
It's not Millie's problem, though. If those boys want to get their shit together, that's on them.
She's thinking about a date.
"A date?" Moxxie squeaks.
"Yeah." Millie laughs. "I wanna go on a date."
There's a thump… did Moxxie…?
"Dropped my phone," he mumbles. "I… you really?"
"Yes," she says.
"Oh."
(She waits a moment longer.)
"Yes, I mean, I, uh… I'd love to— go on a date with you—"
"Breathe," Millie pipes up.
"Right." Moxxie takes an exaggerated breath.
"I'll text you?" she asks.
There's a very quiet rustling noise, like Moxxie's forgetting again that she can't hear him nod. "I mean… yes."
"Great. Bye!"
Moxxie frowns at the mirror. He unties his bowtie and redoes it—no, not good enough. He does it again. Hm, not q—
An alarm on his phone goes off—"MILLIE"—a reminder to leave.
"Oh, crumbs." Moxxie checks his pockets to make sure he's got everything, and messes with his hair one last time.
Time to go on a date with Millie. No big deal.
Big deal.
No big deal. She'd tell him to breathe.
He's barely dressed up more than usual… but Moxxie's "usual" is more dressed up than most. Still, should he have changed his shoes before he left? What if Millie looks stunning and Moxxie looks ordinary?
They've decided to meet at the bus stop. Millie's taking her car, and Moxxie will take the bus.
That's certainly easier said than done—the seats are all taken. Moxxie's not tall enough to reach the overhead bar, so he's forced uncomfortably close to the seat so he can cling to the upright bar. He gives the person what he hopes is his most apologetic smile but is more likely just awkward.
He's jostled off the bus at his stop and pauses to catch his breath. He desperately hopes it'll be less crowded on the way back… or, if he's lucky, Millie might take him home. But only if things go well. (No pressure.)
Someone shouts, and Moxxie ignores it. Then they shout again—and it kind of sounds like…
- Millie is jogging across the parking lot from her car, like she's excited to see Moxxie.
- She's waving, excitedly.
- Millie is wearing black combat boots that thud against the concrete with every step.
- He's only ever seen her in pants, but she's wearing a stretchy off-the-shoulder black dress that hugs her body well.
- Her hair is different today—pushed to one side, maybe?
- She looks nice.
"Uh. Hi," he says as she skids to a stop.
"Hey," she grins. "You look nice."
"I look normal."
Millie raises an eyebrow. "You look nice!"
"Okay. Thanks. You look nice too." Moxxie feels like an idiot. Shouldn't he have something better to say? He's been thinking about this for three days, and still nothing?
(Is she wearing *perfume*?)
"Earth to Moxxie?"
He blinks, and Millie's looking at him with slightly amused concern.
"Yes. Sorry. Hi." Again, idiocy at play.
"Hi." Millie looks like she's holding in a laugh.
"We should, uh… the place is just around the corner, right?" Dinner and a movie. Easy enough. (*Should* be.)
Millie holds out her arm, and he hooks his arm through it. She's warm through her dress.
(There's a heart-shaped cutout and her belly button's visible.)
Moxxie tries not to stare.
A heart shape can mean lots of things! Doesn't mean anything specific, probably.
- Hearts are commonly linked to love.
- This is a date, also commonly linked to love.
- Millie wore this outfit to go on a date with Moxxie.
- With MOXXIE.
- …
- She's got a heart-shaped tattoo on her shoulder.
- She probably just likes hearts.
(He doesn't ask.)
The dinner goes fine, uneventfully, even. Moxxie orders a creamy pasta dish and he doesn't spill on himself or anything else. Millie eats two servings of spaghetti with speed and grace that don't entirely seem to go together, and then calls for a third and a takeout box.
She catches him staring. "Look—"
"Don't justify yourself," Moxxie interrupts. He internally cringes and then ignores it. "It's impressive, that's ALL."
Millie smiles, showing off the gap between her front teeth. (Pretty.)
They stop by Millie's car to drop off the takeout box, and then realize they're gonna have to jog to get to the movie in time.
"Mox, you're asthmatic," Millie insists. "Let's just take my car."
So they do NOT have to jog to get to the movie.
It's a secondhand car, visibly worn but well-taken care of. Some pilling on the fabric seats, but they're clean and soft.
Millie taps her thumbs against the steering wheel at stoplights.
Millie hums slightly under her breath every time she turns a corner.
Millie operates the gear shift with precision and confidence.
Moxxie hadn't really paid attention to what tickets he was paying for—Millie planned the dinner, and he picked the movie. He'd chosen something that sounded like Millie would like it, but the R-rating indicates it may not be the run-of-the-mill action movie he'd assumed.
It's bloody.
And that… doesn't bother Moxxie as much as he thought it would. Maybe he can handle gore if it's not in a horror movie. (Huh.)
Millie's one of the people who cheers when the hero rips the villain's head off. Moxxie's never cheered in a theater… clapped once or twice at the end of a movie, but he's never been a shouter. Kind of annoying. He doesn't mind when Millie does it, though.
"That was awesome," is the first thing she says as they exit the screening room. "And you didn't absolutely hate it." She grins sideways at him.
"No," Moxxie says. It doesn't get to him as a tease because it's true. "I thought I hated gore, but maybe I just hated horror."
"No horror movie dates, then."
(She doesn't seem to notice she's implied she wants to go on another date with Moxxie.)
Millie takes him home in her car. He doesn't make a sound, listening to her quiet noises instead.
She walks him up to his door. Moxxie insists that's not necessary. Millie ignores him.
"So." She laughs. "I liked that. I'd do it again."
Moxxie's a little distracted.
- This is the part in romcoms where the guy and the girl kiss.
- Does Millie want that? If Moxxie kissed her?
- Does Moxxie want…?
- …absolutely.
- Oh, shit, he's really about to.
Moxxie kisses Millie.
…okay. Shit. He pulls back.
He didn't ask first, he definitely should've asked first, Millie isn't saying anything, why—
"Well." She's… smiling? Breathy—wait, was that flirty?
Millie threads a finger under his bow tie, and a hand slithers around the small of his back, and a light tug sends Moxxie into another kiss.
(A second kiss with Millie!)
Moxxie's no virgin. A rather regrettable high school boyfriend isn't something he'll ever forget.
This is different.
"Wait, stop," he gasps as she pushes him back onto the bed. He fumbles in his pocket.
Millie's hand stills his. She reaches in and effortlessly withdraws his inhaler—knowing eyes as she hands it to him.
Oh, that is hot.
Moxxie puffs on the inhaler, and then…
Well.
Then.