Page 19 of Canned & Coated

He’s got this look. Dark eyebrows a little too high, mouth twitching, arms folded like he’s holding something in. The same look he’s had since we were kids, right before he says the thing that hits a little too close and then laughs like it’s a joke.

“The hike,” he says.

“What about it?” I keep chopping. Harder now.

“C’mon. You know what.”

I glance up and give him my best blank stare, then go back to the cutting board and take it out on an onion. Must’ve missed the mark, because he lets out this sharp laugh that makes me want to stab something that isn’t vegetables.

“Oh come on, Nate,” he says, swiping a piece of carrot and crunching it between his teeth. “You two were practically holding hands out there.”

His eyes flick over my shoulder to where Tanner’s digging through the cooler. I don’t turn. I don’t have to. Some part of my brain has been tracking him all day, like if I lose sight of him he’ll disappear again.

“We weren’t holding hands.”

“Oh no… it was so much worse,” Milo says, grin stretching wide enough I can count molars. “You were… flirting.”

The way he says it is makes me want to dump the entire cutting board into his lap.

“Weren’t doing that either.”

Whatever Tanner’s doing must catch Milo’s attention, because he leans in close enough that I catch the citrus deodorant he’s been wearing as long as I’ve known him.

“It’s kinda hot.”

I keep chopping. Maybe if I focus hard enough on these vegetables, I can pretend I didn’t hear that.

“Seeing him want you for once? Like he doesn’t know where to put his hands?” Milo’s voice drops lower. “Turns out I’m into that.”

I roll my eyes so hard I nearly see my own brain. “He’s not flirting. He’s not… whatever. We’re getting back to normal.”

“Uh-huh,” Milo says, nudging me with his shoulder. “Look… we’ve been together a long time.”

“Five years. Yes, I know. Tragically.”

He laughs, the sound warm against my ear. “And it’s not like… we haven’t ever… you know…”

“No, I don’t know,” I say, fighting the smile trying to break through my irritation. I do know exactly what he’s about to say, but hearing it out loud might actually stop my heart.

“You’re gonna make me say it?” he asks. I nod.

He sighs, then leans in close enough that his lips brush my ear. “Had a guest.”

Milo has never been the jealous type. I don’t even think he knows how to feel threatened. I’m pretty sure he could be in a life-or-death situation and treat it like an interesting new experience.

My stomach does this weird roller-coaster drop because if Milo’s suggesting what I think he’s suggesting, then whatever’s happening isn’t my brain playing tricks.

The air between the three of us really has changed. There’s a pull now. A weight I can feel even when I’m trying not to.

“Here,” Milo says. “Give me your hand.”

I glance at him and then set the knife down. He takes my palm and guides it to him, pressing it against his hard length.

“See what that thought does to me, Nate?” he murmurs, voice rough, and I hate how instinctively I respond, how my grip tightens before I can stop myself. “I’m saying… if you want it, I definitely do.”

My pulse stumbles. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

“We won’t.”