Page 10 of Canned & Coated

My gaze drifts to Tanner, expecting discomfort, but there’s something in the way one corner of his mouth lifts that makes my stomach tighten. He’s watching me watch him, and he’s enjoying it.

I shift in my seat, suddenly aware of how the camp chair’s metal frame digs into my thighs.

The last thing I need is a mental highlight reel of Tanner with nameless strangers. Not because it bothers me. It shouldn’t. But those images would blur too easily with older ones I’ve spent years trying to bury. Ones where his hands are on me instead, where his mouth is⁠—

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I’m surprised I don’t taste blood.

And it’s in that moment I realize the tiny, unexpected sting from Milo’s declaration hurts more.

We’re monogamous.

Said so simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s enough.

And it is enough.

I tell myself that. Over and over.

The universe really should come with an instruction manual for this. So You’re Attracted to Someone Who Isn’t Your Boyfriend.

Chapter one: Don’t stare at his forearms or that tiny dimple that shows up when he smiles that specific smile you’re convinced is only for you.

Chapter two: Remember that fantasies are free, but therapy is expensive.

Chapter three: When all else fails, remember… he abandoned you!

Wanting, as it turns out, is the relationship equivalent of having cookies in the house while on a diet. You can look all you want. You just keep your hands in your pockets.

“It’s a surprisingly low number,” Tanner says, snapping me out of my spiral.

“Seventy-five?” Milo presses, eyebrows up. “A hundred?”

Tanner’s eyes widen. I shift in my seat, equal parts dreading and desperately wanting to hear whatever number might fall out of his mouth.

“I mean, you were gone for five years,” Milo continues, undeterred. “Back and forth between here and the Pacific, no roots, no long-term relationships. You were never exactly the settling-down type, so… how many?”

Something in Milo’s wording must hit a nerve. A sharp tic jumps in Tanner’s jaw. His hands flex, knuckles whitening for half a second before he exhales.

Desperate to smooth it over, I cut in. “I don’t think we should…”

“Four.”

The crackle of the fire seems to pause. Milo and I sit there motionless. Tanner doesn’t rush to explain himself or soften the number. He lets it land between us.

Not seventy-five. Not a hundred.

Four.

“I don’t think I owe anyone an explanation,” Tanner says, voice even. “Not really. But you asked.”

He shifts slightly, eyes on the fire.

“I was in a relationship for most of that time. After that, I had a rebound that made me feel like shit. The other two were…” He pauses, mouth twitching. “Let’s call them poor decisions.”

I hear myself ask before I can stop it. “A relationship?”

Tanner’s eyes lift and lock with mine across the fire. He gives one small nod.

“So what was her name?” Milo asks, leaning back in his chair, beer bottle dangling from his fingers.