Page 16 of Canned & Coated

The problem is Tanner probably thinks all this is about him bailing on us, disappearing for years to “find himself” or whatever. Maybe at first it was. But now I can’t even look at him without my body reacting while my brain spins off into fantasies.

I stay quiet for a beat, trying to shove that whole train of thought into a dark place deep in my mind. Let him think I’m another abandoned friend with a bruised ego.

I think it’s easier that way. Cleaner than the truth.

Tanner doesn’t push. He doesn’t need to. He simply gives me that look, brows drawn in slightly, mouth tight at the corners.

“Don’t play dumb, Nate,” he says eventually, gaze drifting back to the trail ahead.

I let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t sound so pathetically winded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not blaming you.”

But it feels like blame anyway, or maybe I’m doing enough blaming for both of us.

If only I’d kept myself in check this morning. I could’ve told Milo to wait until we were alone. Instead I stared back at Tanner like some hormone-riddled teenager, let myself get off on the fact that he was right there, and Christ, I definitely didn’t have to enjoy it quite so much.

Now we’re stuck in this no-man’s-land between what we were and what we aren’t, pretending we can hike our way through it without stirring up all the sludge buried at the bottom of this mountain between us.

“We said this weekend would be fun,” he says.

“It will be,” I say too quickly. “It is.”

He levels me with a raised brow, the dark bushy caterpillar of it glistening against his stupidly perfect tan skin in the harsh sunlight.

“It can be,” I amend.

“I’d like that.”

Three words. That’s all it takes for something to unclench in my chest. Not completely. I’m not suddenly cured of being me, but enough that my lungs remember how to do their job again.

“This shouldn’t be as awkward as you’re making it.”

Jokes on him! He’ll have to be more specific!

What exactly is that supposed to mean? The tent this morning? Our reunion in general? The fact that I’ve been mentally undressing him since ninth grade?

Please can he say the thing and put me out of my misery?

I do not say any of that.

Instead, I nod, eyes fixed on the trail even though the mountain has mostly disappeared behind the trees now.

“Okay,” I say.

He’s quiet for a beat. Then he bumps my shoulder with his.

My legs, already reduced to pudding by this stupid hike, immediately give out. One bad step on loose gravel and I’m pitching forward.

Before I can faceplant into the dirt, strong arms catch me around the waist and haul me upright like I weigh nothing. Suddenly I’m chest-to-chest with Tanner, his hands burning through my sweat-damp shirt, his eyes locked on mine as he steadies me on what is supposed to be solid ground.

Except nothing feels solid anymore. Not with his hands still on me and my heart trying to break speed records in my chest.

We stand there for a second, staring.

“Jerk,” I mutter, though there’s no real heat behind it.

He grins. “You’re clumsier than I remember.”