Page 59 of Virgin Skin

PISTON

“Shut up, there were not goats inside the shop.” Milo cackles, sitting with his legs pretzeled, facing me on the couch with the open box between us.

“And an alpaca.” I grab another slice of pizza and reach for my phone to show him the pictures of the impromptu petting zoo we ended up having in the parking lot to make the most of the situation.

He thumbs through the pictures, lingering noticeably longer on one Jag took of me after I took my shirt off when the alpaca spat all over it. Milo grins and laughs at each one and then hands the phone back to me.

“So, wait, how did they get them into the shop in the first place?”

“Fuck if I know.” I chuckle. “It’s equally possible that Stone knows how to pick locks or that they got lucky and one of us forgot to lock up the night before. It’s not like Fall Crosse is a hotbed of crime, so getting lazy about locking the doors from time to time happens.”

“Except for the kind of crime where randos break in and put goats in your shop.”

We both laugh again, and Milo snags the last slice of pizza from the box.

He does this subtle bouncy sway in his seat while he chews, sticking his tongue out to catch a stray bit of sauce that smears along the corner of his lip. He catches me watching him andstops fidgeting, reaching for a napkin to wipe his already clean face.

“Sorry,” he mutters behind the napkin.

“For what?”

“Just the…” He flaps the hand holding the slice of pizza, sending a dollop of sauce flying. It lands on the couch cushion between us. “Fucking hell. I’m sorry.”

I grab another napkin and wipe it off. I’ve spilled enough shit on this couch to know that whatever microfiber fabric it’s made out of is easy to clean.

“It’s no big deal,” I assure him.

He’s quiet while he finishes his slice of pizza. The chaotic, excited energy he was buzzing with before seems to have simmered. He tosses the wadded-up napkin onto the coffee table next to the empty pizza box and tilts his head against the back of the couch, his eyes still fixed on me.

“I know I’m a lot sometimes, especially when I’m all…” He waves his now-empty hands again. I’m not exactly sure what word the gesture is supposed to be replacing, but I think I get the spirit of it.

“Mi, if I can handle two decades of friendship with a chaos gremlin like Jag, I think I can handle a little bit of bouncing and messiness from you.”

“You say that now.” His lips twitch with an almost-smile that fades back into a more somber expression as quickly as it appears. “It’s hard to keep people around sometimes when you’re all squirrel brained. When I was young and we moved around a lot, I figured that was why I didn’t have friends, you know? You can’t really keep friends when you don’t go to the same school two years in a row. But then I started living with my grandparents and I got to stay in one place for all of high school and it turned out that I’m just a lot for most people.”

“Hey.” I reach across the space between us to tilt his chin up. I want him to look at me so I know he hears what I’m about to say. “It’s their problem if they can’t handle you, not yours. You’re sunshine.”

His expression softens and my heart stutters. Then he snorts.

“You’re so cheesy.” He bites his lip, and it takes everything in me not to move my hand half an inch and replace his lip with my thumb, to feel his teeth sinking into my flesh instead of his own. “But thank you.”

I grunt and lean forward, brushing a kiss to his forehead. That’s innocent enough, right? It’s something a friend would do.

A little voice in the back of my head reminds me how far past that line I already blew tonight. Friends don’t hump friends at work. I’m glad Milo still hasn’t asked where we go from here, because I don’t have the first fucking clue.

Our conversation fades and we watch one more episode ofBuffybefore he stands up. He yawns and stretches. The motion tugs his shirt up enough that I can see a brief flash of his stomach and the lingering evidence of what we did earlier. He notices my look and gives me a crooked smirk.

“Yeah, I clearly need to shower.”

Fuck. I want to offer to go with him. I want to kiss him under the hot water and get him messy all over again before I take my time cleaning him up with my soapy hands. I want to suck his collarbone and swallow his moans. I want to drag him into my bed and keep him there. I fucking want him tonotbe related to Hero so this whole thing won’t be so complicated.

That last thought is a bucket of cold water. I slump back on the couch and send him a twitchy half-smile that I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say gruffly.

I fucking hate the resigned disappointment in his eyes right before he turns to go. I hate that this can’t be simple. I hate thatthe part of me that’s okay with hurting Hero if it means being selfish and keeping Milo is getting bigger every day.

I sigh and rub my hands over my face, waiting until I hear the shower running to drag myself off the couch and down the hallway to my bedroom. Alone.

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