AllFreeNovel
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Point is, for the past five years of our friendship, Milo’s never shown any interest in me, which is fine. We’re just friends, and that’s how I’d like it to stay.
Milo isn’t at the counter when I finally make my way over and pay for the necklace. Instead, he’s sitting at a quaint wooden table by the large front windows, scrolling through his phone as he waits.
The barista is a nice enough girl with fluffy blonde hair and sweet brown eyes. She finishes packing Milo’s order and rings me up, wrapping the necklace in gift paper.
“Nice choice. Is it your anniversary or something?”
I shake my head emphatically. My fingers twitch as I tap my phone on the card scanner to pay.
“Just a gift,” I say firmly. “A platonic one.”
She smiles, gaze flicking to Milo’s long form spread out on the chair. “He said you two are driving the local trail later. There’s a motel an hour down the road if you need someplace to stay.”
I thank her and stick the necklace in my pocket, grabbing the food bag and hurrying to the door without waiting for Milo. He leaps out of his chair, throws a quick and charming goodbye to the barista, then spills out into the warm spring air behind me.
“Cal, hold up—”
A heavy arm wraps around my shoulders, halting me in place. He flashes me that smile again and I ignore the way my stomach jumps, sticking my tongue out at him.
“Very mature.” He ruffles my curls, nudging my hip with his. “What’s got you all twisted?”
She thinks we’re dating. “Nothing. Come on, I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
Milo's dark eyes capture mine, and I look away, suddenly too hot. Today’s muggy and warm, the worst combination for spring weather. He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his muscular arms. Like this, the intricate tattoo sleeve decorating his right arm is on full display.
His tattoos are mainly images from Korean folklore, an homage to his culture. They match his shaggy black hair and metal rings. He looks like a punk-rock singer; tall, rugged, and so good-looking it’s unfair to the rest of us.
Thankfully, Milo drops that line of conversation and leads me to the bright red pickup truck parked in front of the café. Her paint is chipped in some places, but she looks as good as the day I got her five years ago.
“What’d you buy?” Milo says, rounding the driver's side of the truck. “Thought I saw you get something from the gift shop.”
I shrug, tossing him the keys. “Something for Elsie. She wants a souvenir.”
The necklace burns a hole in my pocket.
We hop inside the truck and Milo turns on the AC, cool gusts of air sweeping away the warmth built from an afternoon in the sun.
“Was that her on the phone?”
“Yeah, she wanted to know when I’ll be there for our public execution.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Au contraire, my good friend,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Lawlor family dinners are no joke.”
Milo pats his thighs. “Up. You need to relax.”
Instinctively, I swing my legs over the console and place them in his lap, getting comfortable. He wraps a hand over my bare shin, teasing the long brown hairs, and the tension in my shoulders dissipates. It’s comforting and familiar, like coming home after a shitty day.
Settling into him, I check the food he ordered. Two sandwiches, a Coke, and an iced coffee. One of the sandwiches has tomatoes in it and, without asking, I set that aside for myself, handing the other one to Milo along with his Coke.
“How’d you know this was for me?” he says, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a bite.
“Easy. You hate tomatoes.”
Milo arches a brow, a bemused expression on his face. “And how’d you know that?”
“I’d be a shitty best friend if I didn’t.” I shrug, trying for nonchalant. “I think you told me once.”
