Page 9 of Canned & Coated

“The complete lack of decent showers,” I add.

Tanner’s eyes flick to me. “That too.”

Milo sighs. “So… was it worth it?”

Tanner stills for a second, then picks up a long twig from the ground and uses it to poke at the fire. Sparks jump up between us.

“Depends on the day,” he says with a shrug. “Some days were perfect.”

Tanner tips his gaze up toward the trees, toward the patch of sky above us.

“Some days…” he says, trailing off like the thought almost escaped him. “Some days I wished someone else was there to see them.”

The fire pops loud enough to make me jump.

Milo glances at me. I stare harder at my soda.

Tanner tosses the twig in and leans back again, expression unreadable.

Milo swallows a mouthful of beer, his eyes never leaving Tanner. “Your sister made me practically beg for your number, you know. Almost didn’t give it up.”

“Good old Cassie,” Tanner says with a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Loyal to a fault.”

“You could’ve called,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Both their heads turn toward me at once.

Tanner’s gaze lingers as he leans forward, forearms resting on his thighs.

“We had theories,” Milo says, gesturing with his bottle. “Witness protection. Alien abduction. Joined one of those cults where they make you surrender your phone and wear sneakers that match your track suits.”

Tanner’s mouth quirks at one corner. “No cults.”

“Not denying the alien part,” Milo stage-whispers.

Tanner’s eyes find mine again, something softening in them. “I needed… space.”

“Like… alien space,” Milo interrupts.

“No,” Tanner scoffs. “Space like… from everything.”

“And now?” My own nerves push the question right out of me.

The firelight throws shadows across his face, making his eyes seem almost bottomless.

“Now I’m here,” he says plainly.

Milo groans dramatically, throwing his head back like he’s in physical pain. “This is getting a little too serious, I fear. This weekend is supposed to be fun. S’mores and near-death experiences and light emotional repression… not actual feelings.”

He gestures between us with his beer, sloshing a little over the rim. “Can we maybe dial it back before one of you starts monologuing about fate or whatever?”

Tanner smiles and the tension thins. It doesn’t disappear. It settles some place lower, quieter.

“Okay,” Milo says, clapping his hands together. “The juicy stuff seems more fun. Tell us Tanner, who all have you stuck your dick in between here and the West Coast?”

I make a sound in the back of my throat and tip my head toward the sky.

“Oh, please,” Milo says, waving a dismissive hand. “Some of us have to make do with one person for life. The least he can do is share the highlights reel.”