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I simply nod. As always, being this close to Milo makes it impossible to form a coherent sentence.

“Of course you do.” His voice softens. “You always understood me. Sometimes I felt like no one did except for you.”

My brows crease at the admission. “You make it sound like you were lonely back then.”

“Sometimes I was.” He smiles sadly. “I could be surrounded by people and still feel alone because the one person I actually wanted beside me wasn’t there.”

My breath catches at the intensity in his stare.

“I was never more myself than when I was with you,” he confesses in a low rasp, reaching for a strand of my hair and gently tucking it behind my ear.

“I felt like that too,” I admit, my heart beating a mile a minute.

“I know.” His smile tugs one from me too.

“You were never this cocky back in high school,” I tease, earning one of his famous chuckles.

“That’s because, back then, I thought I had all the time in the world.” His smile fades, but his focus on me never wavers. “Time to say what I was feeling. To do something about it.” He pauses. “Now I know better.”

My breath catches.

“You only get so many chances to get things right, Max.” His gaze drops to my mouth before slowly lifting his chin up. “I’m not wasting this one.”

I’m still reeling from his words when Milo leans in and presses his lips to mine.

The kiss catches me so completely off guard that a startled sound escapes me, disappearing somewhere between our mouths as Milo smiles against my lips.

However, the surprise doesn’t last long. Not when muscle memory takes the reins.

I let myself give in to it, relishing the feel of his lips against mine, warm, supple, and sure. And when his fingers slip into my hair while his other hand gently cups my cheek, my pulse kicks into high gear.

“I fucking missed you,” he murmurs against my lips.

I’m too lost in him to respond. To tell him I missed him too. My mind is completely blank.

No. That’s not true.

It’s filled with everything I want to do right now. Things I’d convinced myself I didn’t miss. Didn’t need.

I want to lean into him. I want to grab the hem of his T-shirt and pull him closer. I want to kiss him until he’s every bit as breathless as I am. I want to slide onto his lap and feel his hands grip my hips before traveling down my thighs, just like they used to. I want to feel his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close, as though loosening his grip for even a second might make me vanish into smoke. I want him to tug at my scarf and kiss the slope of my neck. I want to feel his mouth on me. On every inch of me.

I want… I want a lot of things. None of which I can have.

My heart won’t allow any of them to happen. It’s been broken once already. Hurt so badly that, at the time, death seemed preferable to living through it.

I can’t do that to myself again. I won’t survive it twice.

So before whatever shred of rational thought I have left disappears completely, I place both hands against his chest and gently push him away.

Milo’s eyes have darkened to the most glorious shade of brown, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just run a marathon.

My own breaths come shallow and uneven, my lips still tingling from his as I keep my hands pressed against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my palms in perfect rhythm with mine.

We just sit there, looking into each other’s eyes, both carrying a thousand words neither one seems brave enough to say.

Eventually, it becomes too much, so I do what I’ve always done when things get too real between us—I take the coward’s way out.

“It’s late. I should probably get back.”