Page 59 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Oh…my…God…

“D-d-did I do something wrong?”

My mind runs wild. My thoughts are all over the place, moving at a million miles an hour, firing off question after question. Was I too easy? Did I make a wrong move? Not enough moves? Should I have offered to reciprocate? Because I fell asleep.

Shit, it’s because I fell asleep. I know it is.

Holding me while I drifted off to dreamland was not on his Fourth of July bingo card. Especially not after getting me off and being left high and dry. How could I have been this stupid? No one signs up to get a girl off without looking for the same favor back.

“No, no, Bren. Not at all,” he reassures me, gently squeezing my ankle. My heart restarts with a jump, but it takes the rest of me a second to relax, something that isn’t lost on Milo, as he squeezes me again. “You did everything right. That’s the problem.”

How is that a problem?!

“Whatcha watchin’?” Milo asks, changing the subject so abruptly that my head spins. Apparently he doesn’t have near the amount of questions I do about what he just said.

Of course he doesn’t; he’s the one that said it…

I sigh, trying to buy myself enough time to slow down my heart rate. I don’t want him to know that he just crushed me like a gnat with a single sentence.

Fine. It’s fine. I can do this. Act naturally.

“Only Murders in the Building,” I tell him. “It’s about these three strangers in New York and there’s a murder in their apartment building, so they start a podcast about it and solve the case.”

“I should have known that with you there was murder involved.”

“Ouch?”

I don’t know if I should be hurt by his response or not. It stings, there’s no denying that. I’m not sure if it would sting as much—or at all—if it wasn’t coming on the heels of admitting that he’s been avoiding me.

Milo laughs, and I have to stop myself from letting the sound spark anything in me. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just that I know how much you love all that mystery stuff. You should have a TV date with Willa. Murder, She Wrote is her favorite.”

I frown, trying to hold back what I really think. Milo did not sign up for this rant. “I…have opinions on Jessica Fletcher.”

“You have opinions on Jessica Fletcher?”

“Sure do.” I nod. “I fully realize and respect that she’s a beloved American icon, but Agatha Christie she is not.”

“I feel like I walked into a trap.”

“There’s a whole rant that I’ll spare you from. Especially since your sister is a fan.”

Shaking his head, another chuckle bubbles up from him, the deep timbre of it resonating through me. He turns his gaze to the TV, letting Steve Martin and Martin Short steal his attention. Which is probably safest.

I flip the page of my practice test, scanning down the page, reading the case study carefully. Each one of these questions is carefully worded, and I know I have to catch every detail. Not an easy task sitting like this with Milo. Even less so when he starts running his hand along my bare leg again.

Shifting under my legs, Milo reaches over and grabs the practice test from my lap. “A 58-year-old male presents to urgent care with concerns of rigidity in his arms and tremor in his hands. These symptoms started a month ago.”

He pauses, eyes scanning down the page. I know what comes next in this scenario—a list of the patient’s vitals, along with their medication list.

“Holy shit, this dude is on a lot of meds, most of which I can’t pronounce.”

I take the paper back from him, scanning over the meds. “Haldol, Lipitor, metformin…nothing all that weird about these.”

“So then what’s the answer?”

I scan back through the question, trying to make sure I know what exactly is being asked.

“They want to know if any of these meds could cause his symptoms rather than a bigger underlying cause, and…yes. Three of the eight meds he’s on could be the culprit.”