Chapter 64 - Milo's POV

Saturday, 1:04 PM — Afternoon Reset

I wasn't used to pacing. I'm usually chill — the one cracking jokes, tossing popcorn into someone's mouth across the room, balancing a water bottle on my head while Meg tries not to laugh. But today? Today I was pacing.

Up the hall. Down the hall. Into the kitchen. Out again.

Meg had gone home about an hour ago, and it already felt weird. Empty. She said she needed to recharge before the cast Zoom call later, and she wasn't wrong — we all did. But something was off in my chest, like a little thread had been yanked loose and I was waiting for everything to unravel.

The truth or dare game was spiraling, and I could feel it — not in the way someone else might say "Oh things are heating up," but in the gut deep, wake-you-up-at-night kind of way. We were skating the edge of getting caught. And I wasn't even sure if I cared anymore.

Scratch that. I did care. I just didn't know what would be worse — someone finding out, or holding all of it in until I cracked open like a dropped Snapple bottle.

I opened the fridge. Stared inside. Closed it again.

"Milo."

I turned. My mom was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I lied.

She raised an eyebrow. "That was the least convincing 'yeah' I've heard all day."

"I'm just..." I scratched my neck. "Tired."

Her expression softened. "You've been working hard. This whole shoot, all the promo... Don't forget you're allowed to rest."

"I know," I said. But that wasn't it.

I didn't want rest. I wanted to not feel like I had to choose between honesty and safety every time I looked at Meg.

I headed back to my room and flopped on the bed. My phone buzzed — a message from Meg.

Meg: "Julian just asked me again if we're 'good friends' or really good friends. He put quotes around it."

I snorted. Then sent back:

Me: "Next time just say 'he's basically my twin brother with slightly better hair.'"

She sent back a laughing emoji, but I could feel the nerves under it. Julian was getting close. But close wasn't quite there.

And that's what made it dangerous.

⸻

The studio call started at 2 PM sharp. Everyone was on — Chandler eating chips, MK in a hoodie that may or may not have been stolen from wardrobe, Freya and Malachi sharing one screen, definitely sitting too close — though no one commented.

We were supposed to be going over script changes and scheduling next week's choreography bootcamp, but it took exactly five minutes for the jokes to start flying.

"So," MK said, leaning forward with a grin, "do we talk about the chaos that was last night?"

Chandler groaned. "Nooo, I still haven't emotionally recovered from being dared to lick a sand-covered marshmallow off the dock."

"Iconic," Freya said.

"You're all monsters," Chandler replied.

Julian raised an eyebrow. "Only some of us."

Meg laughed too hard. I felt it in my chest.

Then Julian's eyes flicked to me.

"You've been quiet, Milo."

I shrugged. "Recovering. Got tackled during a dare."

"By who?" he asked. Too casual.

"Freya," I said automatically.

He squinted. "Hmm."

Malachi coughed into his sleeve, suspiciously like he was covering a laugh. Meg's screen flickered as she adjusted her camera.

We moved on. But not before Julian gave me one last look — like he knew something, but didn't trust it enough to say it.

⸻

After the call ended, I dropped my phone on my desk and stared at the wall.

I didn't even know who I was hiding from anymore. My friends? Fans? Myself?

I pulled open my journal, flipped to a clean page, and wrote without thinking:

I'm in a relationship.A long one.And I'm sick of pretending I'm not.But I'm also not ready for the world to know.So I sit here, in the quiet, and write it instead.

I stared at the words. Then shut the journal.

It wasn't a reveal. It wasn't public. But it was something.

And for now, that was enough.