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He didn’t. Usually, he avoids them, no questions asked. Truth is, I’ve cataloged everything about him and separated the facts into neat little boxes in my mind. Everything from his childhood crush to the way he snores when he falls asleep on FaceTime is seared into my brain.
It’s fucked up and weird, but I can’t help myself. I want to know him. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch, and I gave up trying a long time ago. High school became a lot easier when I could drown out everybody else and focus on him to get through the day.
“Alright, man,” Milo says, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. “Let’s get out of here."
My legs feel strangely cold when I take them out of his lap and I lean against the door, watching his tattoos dance as he starts the truck.
It's easy to see why he’s popular with the guys he takes home. If we were different people, strangers maybe, without a past like ours, I could have been one of those guys.
“Dammit.” Milo’s outburst cuts through my thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and jiggles the stick shift, frowning when nothing happens. Takes the keys out of the truck and puts them back in. This time we lurch forward, the engine roaring to life.
“Your truck’s on its last legs, man,” he says.
“She just needs a delicate touch. You got it working, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, for who knows how long.”
I groan. “I'll get it fixed later. Let’s just get home before anything else happens. My mom’s dubious casserole awaits.”
When he’s concentrating, a thin line appears between his eyebrows. The line is there now, a small blip in his otherwise smooth skin. It’s unbelievably endearing. Rubbing my clothed thighs, I force myself to look out the window and watch the café peel away behind us.
Remember, Callum. Don't look at him too long. Don’t let your touches linger. And don’t think about how much you want him, because that way lies madness.
Hiding a part of myself from him hurts like hell, but it’s worth it to stay by his side. I can’t afford to lose another best friend because of my weird feelings.
Besides, Portland’s four hours away. I can survive until then.
*
A loud slam shakes me awake, the sound cutting through the faint haze of sleep. The world is blurry when I open my eyes, evening light illuminating the inside of the truck. Something’s wrong. We’ve stopped moving.
The driver-side door opens, and something presses into my hands. My glasses. Adjusting them onto my nose, I blink up at the concerned face looming over me. Milo looks pissed, dark brows drawn over even darker eyes, his mouth settled into a sour line.
“Get up, Cal, we have to go.”
I yawn, pushing my curls out of my face. “Is it my turn to drive?”
“Good luck with that. I don’t think there’ll be any more driving tonight.”
That gets my attention. I struggle to sit up properly, blinking the last of the sleep from my eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your shitty truck quit on us.” Milo flops into the driver’s seat with a heavy sigh. “I managed to pull over, but we’ll need to find somewhere to stay for the night.”
Fuck. My Ford pickup is from the 2000s and has seen better days, but she’s been loyal to me since I was a sophomore in high school. Sometimes she needs a thump to kickstart or a change of one of her many parts every few months, but until now she’s been alive and kicking.
Milo coaxes me out of the truck with promises that we’ll be back for her as soon as we settle in for the night. It’s not like I have any other choice.
Humid spring air clings to my exposed arms, and my forehead prickles with sweat.
“The barista said there’s a motel nearby,” I say, already checking Google Maps. “It’s a few minutes down the road.”
Despite the short distance, I’m exhausted by the time we arrive, fatigue pulling at my limbs. A bright neon sign flickers above the entrance, telling us we’ve made it to the Lakeview Motel.
