Page 27 of Canned & Coated

I scrub my palms over my face, kick free of my sleeping bag, and crawl toward daylight.

The thought of pulling on clothes crosses my mind for about half a second before I dismiss it. What’s the point? It’s only us out here anyway. I duck through the tent flap in nothing but my navy boxer briefs and immediately regret the decision as the morning chill hits.

It’s the kind of cold that sinks straight into your bones. I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep what little warmth I have.

The sky’s gone bruised overhead, heavy clouds swollen with rain that hasn’t quite decided to fall yet.

The smell of breakfast pulls me toward the campfire, where Milo hovers over the grate. He spots me instantly, his whole face lighting up before he crosses over and presses a quick, warm kiss to my mouth that tastes like coffee.

By the Jeep, Tanner wrestles with the soft top, snapping it into place before the weather turns.

I study the ground. The tent. The sky. Anywhere but him. One glance at those eyes and I’ll be right back in that bathhouse, making my very ungraceful exit under pressure.

I can feel him watching me. He knows exactly why I’m avoiding his gaze. When I risk a sideways look, he’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin, and suddenly I’m dropping my hands casually in front of myself, cursing my decision to skip pants this morning.

“Everything okay there, Nate?” he asks.

“Mhm.” It’s all I’ve got.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m cold.”

“Then why,” Milo asks, “are you out here half-dressed?”

Thunder growls somewhere beyond the tree line. We all tilt our heads up at the same time.

“Better find some clothes,” Tanner says, eyes dragging over my bare chest. “Unless you’re planning to get… soaked.”

I clench my jaw hard enough to hurt. When I glare at him, he catches his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back a laugh.

“What’s the plan with this weather?” I manage.

Milo checks his phone. “Passing showers. We could head into town, grab ingredients for something decent. Last night and all.”

I glance at Tanner. He shrugs. “Jeep’s ready whenever.”

“Hard pass,” I mutter. “That death trap’s seen better decades.”

Tanner pats the hood. “Lower your voice. She’s sensitive.”

“We’ll take the car,” Milo says. “I’ll drive.”

A cold splat lands on my bare shoulder. Then another. And another. The sky opens and suddenly we’re all moving. Milo throws a tarp over the cooking gear, Tanner snatches clothes off the line, and I make a break for the tent.

The canvas does nothing to stop it. Rain pounds overhead, loud and relentless, turning the whole thing into a drum. By the time I duck inside, I’m soaked through, water running down my arms, boxer briefs clinging in ways I’d rather not think about, especially not with Tanner anywhere nearby.

I drag my duffel across the tent floor and dig through wadded T-shirts and shorts.

Perfect timing, this rain. A clean slate. Exactly what I needed.

We’ll drive into town, grab supplies, maybe laugh about something stupid. It’s three guys hanging out. Nothing complicated.

Because it can’t be complicated.

I shimmy out of the soaked boxers, kick them toward yesterday’s clothes, and grab a dry pair. I step into them quickly, moving fast enough to pretend none of this and none of that ever happened.

It’s a normal day. A regular, normal day.