Page 117 of What We Bury

“Was it an orgasmic moment?”

“Milo!” She giggles and covers her face. That’s answer enough.

“My, my, my. You’re collecting us like Pokémon, kitten. I respect the hustle.”

She groans and drops her hands again. “I’m not collecting anyone.”

“Don’t protest. If you gotta catch ’em all, I’m ready to be slayed by your pokeball.”

She snorts. “God, why does that sound dirty?”

“I’ll pica-your-chu. I can squirt-in-you-tel.”

“Milo, stop!”

Glad to see she’s relaxed, I turn serious for a beat. “Honestly, Sage? Good for you. Get it, girl. Live your best why-choose life.”

“Why choose?”

“Yeah. It’s a whole genre of spicy books. One girl. Bunches of guys. Super hot.”

“You read romance?”

I press a hand to my chest. “Excusez-moi.How dare you sound surprised. Romance is a woman’s guide to the clit-glorious for men. It’s a step-by-step manual on how to please a woman. The female gaze is a multifaceted, beautiful thing, and I will not have you speaking to me as if I should ignore such a rich, subversive genre.”

She’s cackling now, bouncing in her chair. “Wait—subversive?”

“Of course! Romance challenges patriarchal norms by centering female pleasure and interiority. The whole genre exists to give voice to women’s desires.” I shake my head sadly. “What a failure of a feminist you are, kitten. I expected better.”

She’s lost it, tears running down her face. “You’re not wrong, but you’re also insane.”

“Told you.” I wink. “So where do I fall in the lineup? Am I next in the making-out-with-Sage line? Please say I’m next. But if you need more time, I respect that. I can just . . . watch next time. Maybe jack off a little. If you let me sleep over, I make excellent breakfast.”

“Oh my god, Milo. You’re—” She shakes her head, still smiling. “You’re alot.”

“I know. Part of my charm.” I spread my arms. “Acquired taste. Like olives. Like jazz. Give it time and you won’t be able to imagine life without my particular brand of chaos.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Confidence is all I have, kitten.”

We both jump when there’s a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?”

THIRTY-TWO

MILO

Amuffled voice calls out from the hallway. “Sage, why doesn’t my key work?”

Sage’s eyes go wide. “Amy.”

“I thought you said she was with Tyler?” I whisper.

“She normally is. I guess she’s come home.” She stands, already smoothing down her hair. I watch her panic with a mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“Coming!” she calls out, then turns to me with a frantic whisper. “What do I say? How do I explain who you are?”