She thought about that for a moment. Her strength was something she admired about herself but, lately, she’d started to wonder why. Why did she have to take all of this and make it a story of triumph? Couldn’t she just be sad and then fade back into normalcy?
“Really sick of it, actually.”
“Me too. I hated it when I was younger. It’s not like I got a choice.”
“Right, it kind of feels like congratulating me for surviving? I don’t know, people say all kinds of insane shit.” That was why she loved hanging out with Milo—aside from his marvelously talented fingers. He just got it, and she didn’t have to tiptoe around how shitty it was to exist after someone you loved ceased to do so. “My dad told me like two months after she died that I just needed to ‘change my perspective’ about it.”
Milo choked on his coffee. “Wow, that’s incredible. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Well, you were too busy being so strong, Milo.”
He cracked a smile. “And focusing on the happy times we had.”
“Of course. I’m just grateful she’s no longer suffering, you know, because being here and alive with me was just so awful.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s one of the worst ones. Man, I fucking hate people.”
“Not all of them,” she countered. “There are the Saras of the world.”
“Matty too. Always so easy to go to. I met him just before the accident, actually. He was one of the few friends I had who didn’t bolt.”
She nodded with understanding. It was hard to maintain friendships in general, but when shit hits the fan? Circles get small, fast.
Milo settled his gaze on her, the stare a little too intense for her hangover.
She leaned forward, tapping him between the eyes.
“You got a lot going on up there, California.” He laughed, but it didn’t last. “Come on, therapy king. Let’s hear it.”
“You don’t want to hear what I’m thinking.”
“I always want to hear what you’re thinking,” she sighed. “It’s actually incredibly annoying.”
“I’m thinking…” He drained his Bloody Mary and leaned closer to her, his fingers twitching against the table. “I’m thinking that I’m the one who needs distracting this weekend.”
She swallowed. “What?”
“We weren’t thinking about the Vegas of it all. We’re really going to spend all weekend drunk in Sin City, and I’m just supposed to pretend I wasn’t staring at your perfect tits all night? Seems ill-informed.”
“This doing it for you right now?” She gestured to her yoga pants and bare face.
Milo closed his eyes. “You have no idea, Hanna.”
“Really?”
He pulled at the soft fabric of her pants. “These aren’t nearly as bad as the green pair you wear at home. They’re light enough that, when the sun hits, I can see every incredible dimple in your ass, and then I can’t help but think about how it would recoil if I?—”
“Okay!” She drained her ice water. “So, what? You want to fuck all weekend like we’re both not going to be absolutely miserable Monday morning?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know! I feel like a psycho, Hanna. I’m not this guy, but seeing Logan touch you, and then having to sit next to you naked… I’m an idiot.”
“Milo, the last time we had sex, we both cried for an hour after.”
“Crying is healthy, Arizona. I’ve been telling you that. ”
She rolled her eyes, astonished that he would press it.
“You’re possessed.”
