Page 60 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Damn, Bren. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. But this is a pretty basic question. There will be much harder ones on the NAPLEX.”

“How much longer until the test?"

“Three weeks. Then I have to wait for two more weeks until I know my future. Or at least if I have to sit for the test again.”

“Again, really?” he asks, face scrunched like the thought of it is painful. Which it is.

“Yup. Which is why I will be glued to these practice tests until then.”

I hold up the stack of papers, emphasizing my point. These things will be going everywhere with me, so I can squeeze in a question or two every chance I get. My days spent at the drugstore help—seeing it all in a practical sense aids in marrying together all the theoretical that I keep reading about. But this test is about a lot more than just knowing about a possible drug interaction when filling a new prescription or giving a flu shot.

“Don’t study too much; you’ll overload the brain. That’s not healthy. You need to have some fun in there.”

I scoff. “Says the guy who just told me all about how he’s working from sunup to sundown. And still doesn’t have a name for the product he’s debuting in a little over a month. Talk about all work and no play.”

“I do things for fun. I have hobbies,” Milo defends.

“Do you?”

He pauses, brow scrunched as he thinks. His lips purse, mouth twitching from side to side, reminding me of Winnie the Pooh as he sat going, “Think, think, think.”

“I brew beer.”

“Milo, that’s your business. You own the brewery. It’s not a hobby if paying your bills depends on it.”

“I don’t need your logic,” he counters, mumbling under his breath.

“Maybe you need to take your own advice. Get away from Southern Brothers for a bit, and maybe that will shake something loose to help you name the new brew.” Milo shrugs, eyes still trained on the TV. “I mean, when was the last time you did something fun? For no other reason than you wanted to do it?”

I could ask myself the same question. I’ve been so busy with school and then exam prep that my hot-girl summer has been more of a bummer than originally thought. The only fun I’ve had—other than a few lunches with Mell—has been the dates with Milo. But those are over now.

Milo is silent on the other end of the couch, and I wish I could see what was going on in his brain. Wish I could know if he’s thinking hard about my question, or trying to come up with a smart-ass answer. Or if he’s going to change the subject again. But his face is unreadable.

A second later, he twists to face me, pulling one of his legs up on the couch and tangling it with mine. Those deep blue eyes are dark again, his face serious. Now I really want to know what he’s thinking.

“Fourth of July.”

“What?” I ask, my brain barely registering his answer, but knowing that it doesn’t compute.

“That was the last time I did something for fun, just because I wanted to do it.”

Oh. Ohhhhhhhh…

I nod. Because what else is there to say? Even if I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be able to say it, since my mouth is suddenly as dry as the Sahara. Almost like I took the cotton wad from a brand-new pill bottle and shoved it down my throat.

Milo leans in, his face going from serious to shit-eating. The Cheshire-cat grin spreads slowly across his face, dragging a warmth through me that I don’t think a fire hose could extinguish. Especially since his eyes are pinned on me.

“Fuck it.”

Fuck it? Just what are we fucking? Each other? Because we agreed the apartment was off-limits. That in here, we’re roommates. Not that I’m objecting. Nope, not one bit. But I don’t understand either. Maybe I’m being obtuse.

“Huh?”

Milo leans in more, as close as he can given our positions on the couch. The way he’s looking at me though, he might as well have hauled me into his lap. I’m seconds away from being a puddle, only being held together by the loose string that is my racing pulse.

“Know what’s better than a second date? A third.”