Page 266 of What We Burn

My cheeks flood with heat. “Context is important here. But in a nutshell, yes. I did say those words.”

“I wouldn’t be jealous,” he says slowly.

The words land and my chest goes cold and tight. My throat narrows around the truth I’ve been swallowing for months.

I thought the way things had changed between us meant I was more than the warm body he returns to when the flames with Sage burn too hot. Apparently not. I’m still the safe harbor. The well-worn path.

I’m the fuck boy he’s comfortable sharing.

“Great,” I say tightly. “Good to know.”

Eli’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Nothing. You said you wouldn’t be jealous. Message received.”

“Micah—”

“It’s fine, Eli. Milo asked a question, you answered. Can we move on?”

Milo’s eyes dart between us like he’s watching a tennis match where the ball just exploded and set the net on fire. “Okay,” he says slowly. “That’s not the reaction I was expecting from either of you.”

“What were you expecting?” I ask.

“I don’t know. A laugh? A conversation? Maybe some light negotiation about a possible threesome? Not—” He gestures at the space between Eli and me. “Whatever this is.”

Eli’s gaze hasn’t left my face. Even with my eyes back in my book, it presses against the side of my face—that laser-focused attention that once felt like being wrapped in warmth but now feels like standing naked in harsh fluorescent light.

“You’re upset,” he says.

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re upset that I said I wouldn’t be jealous.”

“Why would I be upset about that? It’s fine. You’re not the jealous type.” I shrug.

“I live in a house where five men share one woman,” Eli says, picking up his coffee. “Jealousy isn’t a luxury any of us can afford. It would be pointless.”

It’s rational. It’s measured. It’s the most Eli answer possible. Somewhere in the middle of it I notice I’ve stopped hearing the TV, and that the same sentence has been sitting under my eyes for a full minute—because he’s right and I hate that he’s right and I hate it even more that I wanted him to be wrong.

“Totally makes sense,” I say, and go back to my book.

Milo looks at Eli. Looks at me. Looks back at Eli. “So that’s a green light? I can explore my Micah-sexual awakening without causing a diplomatic incident?”

“That’s the theory.” Eli takes a slow sip of coffee. He’s watching me over the rim, and there’s something working behind his eyes that I can’t read. “But maybe we should test it out. Just to be sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

Eli sets the mug down. Looks at Milo. Then at me. Then back at Milo. There’s a moment where I catch the familiar tightening at the corner of his mouth that happens right before he crosses a line.

“Kiss him,” Eli says.

Milo blinks. “What?”

“You want to know what it’s like. He apparently offered. So kiss him.” Eli leans back into the couch, arms spread along the back, posture deliberately casual in a way that tells me he’s anything but. “Right here. Right now. We’ll test the theory.”

“The theory being whether or not you’re jealous?” I ask.

“That and whether Milo genuinely wants you to suck his dick.”