in my blood

“I am not making faces. I’ve swallowed so much worse than this. And I take shots of tequila regularly. I’m totally fine.” He wasn’t fine. The tequila felt like it was gasoline when it went down. One match and he would probably spontaneously combust. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. “I do not take shots like a little bitch, fuck you,” he said as he downed another shot. His eyebrows pinched together as he let out a slow breath. That had not been one of his best ideas. “I’m supposed to be helping you pick out an outfit. Or was it you helping me pick out an outfit? Don’t FaceTime Maverick. He’ll never let me live it down.”

“Are you, of all people, judging my fashion choices? You’re wearing leather pants again as if you own nothing else. Didn’t we just go shopping the other day? I know you’ve got a pair of jeans. Did Selena tear them up? I know she gets feisty.” Milo only shook his head. There was no way Maverick was talking to him, right? He glanced down at his outfit again. Maybe the shoes could have gone better with the shirt or vice versa. Wait, no. Why was he second-guessing the outfit no? He knew he looked good. “Anyway, I think you’re at best a knockoff version of Alyssa Edwards. Do the tongue pop.”