5

Despite the peace of being sun-warmed and smelling like lake water, the easy stillness of the afternoon disappears like a fine mist. It leaves an unfamiliar tension in its place, pervasive and cloying.

Milo had tried to continue our conversation when we got back to the room, but I couldn't do it. The door slammed shut behind us like a gunshot. Panic had closed my throat and sealed my lips.

I tried to distract him by grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into a messy, inexperienced kiss. It had worked for about one second before Milo shrugged me off, one hand on my shoulder like that would soothe the sting.

Now, the glow of the CRT TV on the dresser illuminates the otherwise dark room, the sounds of old shows too loud in the silence. Milo sits on the edge of the bed, flicking through the channels.

He hasn't said a word to me since the failed kiss. Not after either of our showers or when he went out to get snacks from the vending machine by the front desk.

The silence is barbed wire on my skin, digging underneath until it settles around me like an unwelcome blanket. Thoughts tumble around my mind from my position on the floor, head against the foot of the bed, eyes staring unseeingly at the glow of the TV screen.

Supergirl 1984. Click . House MD. Click . The Office. Click .

I have to get out of here. If I stay any longer, I'll go crazy. Grabbing my phone, I slip on my sneakers and am halfway through the door when Milo speaks.

"Where are you going?"

I shake my head. "Out. I'll be back."

The slam of the door muffles him calling my name.

Truth is, I don't know where I'm going but I race down the stairs, letting my body guide me. My heart thumps erratically in my ears, breaths coming fast and shallow.

To nobody's surprise, I find myself at the bar. I order a simple beer and tuck myself into a corner. Tonight is quiet, with only a few patrons bobbing along to the music on the dance floor. I watch them until my eyes burn, interspersed with watery sips of beer.

When I fucked things up with Ethan, I vowed I'd never get involved with another best friend. It's always a recipe for disaster.

He kissed me first. We were drunk and my room was dark, the lights off so my mom didn't know we were awake. The darkness was good for him, providing some semblance of cover from my hungry eyes. I think it helped him forget I was a boy. Then he pressed his lips to mine.

What little elation I felt didn't last long because he was gone the next minute, slamming the door shut behind him.

The next day at school I tried to sit with Ethan at our usual lunch table, but he and the assholes I called my friends told me to fuck off. His eyes held a warning. I got the message loud and clear; sit with him, and he'll expose me.

Whatever we had was over. Clearly, I haven't learned my lesson.

Music pulses under my feet and seeps into my trainers, beating in time to the ache in my head. This whole thing was a mistake; this trip home, sharing a bed, getting involved with one of the few people I care about in my life.

I can't let this go any further, I decide, swirling the last dregs of beer. I'll reassure Milo that we'll stay friends, and then everything can go back to normal.

*

Milo's waiting for me when I get back to the room, arms crossed and shoulders tense.

"We should talk," he says, tossing his phone on the bed and standing up. He sounds tired.

"What's there to talk about?"

"You tell me, man. Maybe it's the way you ran off without a word. Or how you've been acting weird all evening."

"You're the one who went totally radio silent." I clear my throat, wrapping my arms around myself. "I didn't think you wanted to be near me."

"You're my best friend, man. Why wouldn't I want to hang out with you?"

I shrug, toeing the carpet with my sneakers. Milo walks towards me, hands raised like he's soothing a wounded animal.

"Just tell me what's going on. Please."

Rubbing my face, I let out a breath. "Fine. You want to know so bad? I can't continue this, what we've been doing. It's not going to work."

"It seemed to be working just fine before."

I shake my head. Maybe it's the alcohol, but my brain feels fuzzy. "I'm sorry, Milo."

"Jesus, Cal, what are you so afraid of?" He makes a frustrated noise. "I'm not Ethan. I won't leave you in the dust—"

"Drop it. Please. Let's just go back to how things were. I can't…"

I can't lose you.

The look he gives me, like I've torn out his heart and stamped on it, stings more than it should. This is why this wouldn't work out. We're good as friends. We need each other just like this. I won't deny we were a little codependent in high school, but college has forced us to grow apart.

This trip gave me my best friend back. And I don't want to let go. Not again.

Milo rubs a hand over his face, silent for a moment. Then, before I can react, he crosses the room in a few steps and grips my chin firmly. His kiss is chaste and longing, full of something I can't define.

It feels like a goodbye.

I blink when we separate, willing myself not to cry. God, as if I haven't embarrassed myself enough.

"Okay," Milo says against my lips. "Just friends it is."

He pulls away, taking his warmth with him, and the loss leaves me bereft. A dull ache blooms in my chest like spilled ink.

That night, Milo books an overnight room down the hall and takes his stuff with him.