The mysterious Chloe didn’t appear until sometime between rounds three and four. Milo had long since given up on waiting for her outside, sliding into the seat beside Hanna and running his finger over the menu to point out all his favorites she should try.
Her eyes dropped to his phone as it buzzed against the table. An unsaved number flashed across the screen, but there was a string of messages between them.
“Chloe’s here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, and rose from the table. She focused on her cocktail and a story Matty’s coworker spun about a board meeting they’d crashed, but she couldn’t hold onto the sounds as a bouncing red head landed at the table.
She was even cooler in person.
It made sense that the universe would shove two people like Milo and Chloe together. She had that effortlessly cool vibe that Hanna once wished she could pull off, but her body’s rejection of a nose piercing three times had sealed the deal for her. She was firmly on the tame side of that line.
The worst part about Chloe was that she was fucking hysterical. Everything she said dripped in charm and Hanna wanted to hate her, but it was simply impossible. She tried not to stare during dinner, but it was hard not to be drawn to two such beautiful people being beautiful together.
Chloe worked overtime to ask questions about Hanna’s life, her job, and her favorite places to visit in Phoenix. She, once again, resisted the urge to stare as they said their goodbyes—a chaste kiss so brief she nearly missed it. It wasn’t the hot and heavy exchange a new couple still insecure with one another might share—no. It was comfortable.
Sara led them down a few blocks to the pier, the wind whipping Hanna’s hair into her face. She tried not to walk with Milo, but he seemed to take an interest in pointing out all their favorite hangouts on the way home.
“Chloe seems really sweet,” Hanna said, wrapping her arms around herself.
“She is,” Milo replied. “It’s… casual,” he added.
Hanna tucked that information somewhere between her ribs, letting it percolate through her body and spread a warmth that almost cut through the bay breeze tickling the back of her neck.
“Ah. Explains why you haven’t saved her number,” she blurted.
Milo’s smile tilted. “She was texting me from her work phone. But noted that you’re watching.”
“No,” Hanna protested. “Not watching. Just… observing.”
“And that’s completely different.”
“Obviously,” she said, chewing on her lower lip as they waited on a corner. “It’s none of my business.”
“Hey,” he said, pulling her wrist toward him as Sara and Matty started across. “Are you freezing?”
“I’m f?—”
“Fine, yeah, I know,” Milo said smugly, sliding his flannel off his shoulders and draping it around hers. She drowned in the scent of him, the same as his apartment, but closer now. “You got a lot going on up there, huh Arizona?” He tapped the space between her eyes and she pulled back. “I’ve been where you are. It’s a war zone. I just want it on the record that I’m not trying to add to that chaos.”
Hanna wasn’t sure what he was getting at, her head tilting as she thought as much. It must have read all too clearly in her eyes because he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing under the streetlight.
“If you need a friend, I’m a damn good one. If you need to flirt a little and push someone’s buttons, I’m not opposed. I’m a grade-A distraction if that’s what you want. But if you’re going to be here all summer, I just want to get it out there now, I’m not a relationship guy.”
Hanna’s mouth opened, but closed again. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
“And I don’t mean that in a toxic fuck-boy way. I mean it in an I-never-want-to-leave-a-wife-and-three-kids-without-a-father way. I just find that friends with benefits is a better situation for someone like me.” Milo rocked back on his heels, tracking Matty and Sara across the street. “But I like you. I think you’re cool. A little fucked up, but I heard what I just said, so I’m not going to pretend I’m not in the same boat. So. That’s where I’m at.”
Hanna took his words in, but didn’t process a single one of them. She’d never once had someone be so direct.
She pursed her lips. “You’re either in a lot of therapy, or none, aren’t you?”
“CBT, talk, and group,” Milo said, a grin spreading over his lips. “I will always tell you exactly what I need, but not everyone can handle that.”
“But Chloe can.”
“For now,” he said.
“I don’t know what to make of any of that,” Hanna admitted. “How many years until I can just communicate how I feel directly without every single feeling I’ve ever had rushing out in one long, verbal panic attack?”
Milo laughed, reaching forward and buttoning his shirt around her collarbones. His fingertips brushed her shoulder, the chill well and thoroughly gone from her muscles.
