Gil looks around bewildered, then Miles watches with amusement as his shoulders sag, and he lets whatever questions he had go, putting his hand back in Chase’s hair.
Chase adds, “But, yeah, Miles. None of us are dating anyone... fornow.”
He peers at how he’s lying on Gil’s lap, and the way Gil is running his hand through his hair.Right.
“Did you… just come out to us?” Calvin asks unsurely, holding himself up on his elbow to stare at his friend. He looks so confused, and it’s the most adorable thing Miles has ever seen.
“I guess. Don’t worry, Cal, you’re not my type.”
Calvin sighs and lies back down. He deadpans, “I’m devastated.”
“Why’d he say it wouldn’t work?” Miles asks curiously, circling back to what Chase said earlier.
Chase is quiet for a beat too long, which is unlike him, so Miles knows he’s withholding something when he says, “Said I wasn’t present enough. It’s whatever. On that note, Gabby’s cute. You think she’d give me her number if I asked?”
“No,” Calvin says, curtly, before Miles can even answer. “Gabby is practically Miles’s sister. Don’t flirt with her.”
“I’m asking Miles! Geez… fine.” Chase huffs. “Anyway. Miles, are you looking to date? I might know some girls I can set you up with… or guys? Do you prefer dicks?”
Calvin lets out a soft wheeze.
“I do, uh, prefer dicks,” Miles says. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
“I have a friend I can set you up with. Have you met Cal?” Chase doesn’t see it coming when Calvin props himself up on an elbow and reaches over to smack him on the chest. He yelps and tries to retaliate, but Gil yanks him back. Calvin lies down and puts his arm over his eyes again. Glaring at Calvin, Chase says, “Real talk, Miles.What’s your type? Who would you want?”
Gil takes notice when Miles doesn’t answer right away. “You can ignore him.”
His type?
He stares at the tattoos on Calvin’s arms. The ink’s dark and there’s so much detail, and it curves along his tight muscles. Miles wants to recreate it on paper. He isn’t paying attention to the conversation as his mind wanders.
Miles murmurs, “Someone who makes me want to paint.”
Calvin lowers his arm a bit to meet Miles’s eyes. Miles wonders why his brows knit together, and why he’s looking at him as if there’s a question on the tip of his tongue.
“What a coincidence,” Chase says. “Cal said once that his type is someone who makes him want to write songs.”
“Ah,” Miles says.
Calvin doesn’t take his eyes off Miles. His lips are a flat line, his jaw clenched, and Miles can’t read his expression. For some reason though, Miles fights to hold his gaze, as if it were a challenge he doesn’t want to back down from.
After a few seconds, Chase starts snoring, and Calvin shifts to his side, away from Miles.
“Typical,” Gil snorts. He doesn’t stop running his hand through Chase’s hair.
The group turns quiet and Miles lies down as well, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.
Chapter Eighteen
Agentle tapping on his arm wakes him and Miles opens his eyes to find Calvin peering down at him. Dazed, Miles looks around—he had fallen asleep?
“We’re leaving,” Calvin says, and Miles nods.
“What are we doing now?” Chase asks, already rejuvenated after his short nap. Miles checks his watch—it’s one p.m. He’s been out for roughly an hour.
Gil’s smacking his knuckles against his thighs as if they’ve fallen asleep. If he had let Chase lie on them the entire time, they probably are.
“Going back to the inn to shower,” Gil says. He sniffs his shirt and frowns, and Miles does the same for his. It smells bad. They’re bringing back the stream with them.
