Page 21 of Tourist Trap

He hesitates before asking as if he isn’t sure he wants to know. “How does one pet a hermit crab?”

I look over to him and smile.

“With your finger, ideally. I hear earning their trust is very important.” I take another bite and watch him struggle with how to answer that. I added this one and a few others that I knew would send him into a tizzy because watching the blood creep up his neck is funny, and it doesnotdisappoint.

“How does one earn a hermit crab’s trust?” he asks hesitantly, an eyebrow raised.

“I would imagine it’s different for every crab, just like people?”

He sighs like I’m testing his patience even though I know he’s secretly wildly entertained by me before he looks at me again, putting the list down and crossing his arms on his chest.

“What is this?” he says, tipping his chin toward the paper.

“God, I just told you. Is your garage well-ventilated? Because it’s a bit alarming how quickly you forget things.” I chew another bite of cereal, fighting a smile as he glares at me, unspeaking. “It’s a list of ways for you to have fun.”

He leans into his hands on the counter, and the muscles along his arms tense and ripple.

Despite it all, Miles Miller ishot.

I, unlike him, am not in complete and utter denial of the palpable tension between us, but fuck, watching his arms move like that? It makes that extraordinarily clear.

Paul hated when we came to see his family because according to him, his mom and brotherdon’t get himandalways give him shit, (i.e: request he do the bare minimum and treat his family with respect). Anytime we were down here, we’d get into an argument about my flirting with his older brother. I never would have crossed any boundary, of course, but sometimes I felt guilty about it.

But now that there is no boyfriend to speak of, keeping me on the straight and narrow?

My mind has a bit of a life of its own, making up scenarios of summer flings and hot, sweaty nights.

I blame June, really. She’s the one that put the idea in my head.

“You know what I mean. What is it for?”

I snap myself out of my lust-filled haze to answer, beaming at him.

“To help you have fun,” I say slowly like he’s an idiot. He blinks at me, and I smile wider now. “All you do is work.”

“That’s not true. Last night I was home and chatted with you.”

“And you gave me a list ofrules,” I laugh.

“I have to make sure we’re on the same page so we can have a drama-free summer.”

I roll my eyes at that. “You said I couldn’t flirt.”

“That’s because you’re trouble and Paul’s ex-girlfriend.”

My heart skips a beat because the way my brain interprets that is he might be amenable to some kind of flirting if Iweren’this brother’s ex.

That I can work with. I cansowork with that.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You know exactly what it has to do with.”

God, hesofeels it, too.

“I don’t think I do,” I say instead of agreeing, crossing my arms on my chest and leaning back on the chair.

“It means I have to keep my distance from you no matter how much you test my patience.”

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