Page 17 of Paint Our Song (Cloverlily #1)

C alvin seems happy. Despite his scowl and how he’s trying to drown his friend, Miles can tell he’s content. He can see it in his expression, at the way his mouth threatens to curve into a smile, and how he’s not tense all over. And… he looks good, which Miles already knew, but seeing him shirtless hits him like a punch in the gut.

His muscles are taut, and when he pulls himself up on a boulder, still scowling at Chase, Miles stares at the tattooed vines, the outline of his spine, and his narrow hips. He had felt those hips against his last night, pressed against the parapet while they kissed…

“Easy.” Gil’s gentle voice snaps him out of his reverie. Startled, he realizes that Gil’s been quietly watching him this entire time. “You’ll burn a hole in him.”

Miles’s cheeks heat up. There’s really no point denying it—he was staring, and he was staring hard. Miles scratches the back of his neck, shrugs, and Gil gives him a knowing look .

After that, Miles distracts himself. Chase figures out that he can cannonball off a particularly high spot, and he drags Gil with him. Miles watches them do it several times, then joins them, remembering when he and his friends used to do this as well. It’s nice being back here. The lake town has a lot of fun landmarks, and while he’s thankful that the falls are empty right now, he wishes more tourists knew about it.

Camilla Hotel probably didn’t promote it so much because of the apparently not-easy hike.

“He’s like those cats he’s obsessed with,” Chase snickers, pointing at Calvin, who’s fallen asleep on the boulder he had climbed on about half an hour ago. He’s sleeping right where the sunlight hits, an arm over his face. “Look, Miles.”

Miles doesn’t look, suddenly very interested in a rock that he’s convinced is shaped like a face. “Yup.”

After some more messing around, Chase asks if Gil brought food—and he did. He has sandwiches and sodas which he took from the inn’s kitchen before they left, and Chase cheers as he swims to the shore. Gil lays picnic blankets on the ground so that they can laze around. They find a spot under the shade of the trees, and it’s cool how Gil quietly takes care of everything behind-the-scenes because Miles never even knew he came this ready.

“Mother hen,” Chase teases.

Gil shrugs. “Don’t lie here, then.”

“You wish.”

“Cal!” Gil cups his hands and shouts, but Calvin doesn’t even flinch. He’s on the other side of the pool, much closer to the falls, and the running water drowns out Gil’s voice. “Calviiin!”

“I’ll get him,” Miles says. He walks along the rocky shore, careful not to slip. When he reaches Calvin, he’s still got his arm over his eyes and his chest rises slowly with every breath, one knee’s bent, and Miles realizes how stupid he was for volunteering to get him. Heat creeps to his cheek and he inwardly groans.

Swallowing, Miles crouches down and taps Calvin on the arm. Right on his tattoo, on his stupidly toned arm, and yeah, this was a terrible idea.

“Calvin,” Miles says, tapping him even harder on the arm.

“I’m sleepy,” Calvin mutters, his voice barely audible. He puts his other arm over his face as well to block out more of the sunlight. At least Miles knows he’s awake, only ignoring him. Over on the picnic blankets, Chase wolfs down his second sandwich, and Gil is saying something to him that Miles can’t hear from the distance and over the running water.

“Gil brought food,” Miles says.

A slight shrug of the shoulders. Calvin doesn’t budge. Smirking, Miles plops down and sits cross-legged, rethinking his strategy.

Miles should head back to the others, but from where they are, he sees a new angle of the falls that he’s never seen before. From here, the sunlight hits the water and the rocks perfectly, and reflects off the falls. Lights dance on the rocks, and Miles is enamored by how pretty it is, wondering why he’s never stood from here before. He could’ve had an entirely different painting.

“This is a nice spot,” Miles says.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. ”

Miles reaches out to prod him again. He should push him into the water, but then he was so close to successfully drowning Chase for that. He’s about to say his name again, tell him that he should eat, when he’s distracted once more by that tattoo of the lily right above the joint of his hip. The lines are sharp and the ink is black, and a very small part of it is hidden beneath his waistband. His stare drifts across his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, and Miles wants to reach out and touch him.

Fuck. He really, really wants to touch Calvin. He had been so close, too. It’s going to kill him forever, and Miles is probably never going to stop yearning for it. Calvin’s probably going to be that person for him, the one who’s going to keep him up at night years down the line, and he’s always going to wonder if he could’ve done this any differently.

Shifting his arms, Calvin’s gaze meets Miles, and he narrows his eyes. Calvin murmurs, “What are you looking at?”

And since Miles really does have no sense of self-preservation, he studies his face for a long moment and says, “You. Always.”

His expression softens. “Miles—”

“Cal! Miles!” Gil calls.

Snapping out of it, Miles turns his head. Gil is halfway to them from the picnic blankets.

“C’mon, stop messing around,” he says, gesturing for them.

Miles grins wide, apologizes, and stands. Finally sitting up, Calvin stays still for a few seconds with a puzzled expression, and Miles runs off before more stupid things come out of his mouth.

“Careful!” Gil says, as Miles strides over the wet rocks and goes right past him.

He plops down on the picnic blanket, grabs a sandwich, and devours it with the most intense blush he’s ever had in his life. Chase gives him an odd look but fortunately says nothing. Gil returns to the blanket soon after, staring at Miles, and he feels too seen.

When Calvin finally gets there, he doesn’t eat; he just lies down and resumes the same position he had before—on his back, arms over his eyes, one knee slightly bent. If he moved even a little bit, his shoulder would brush Miles’s thigh.

“Are you still angry because I pushed you in?” Chase asks, poking Calvin’s ankle. “Your mood was a lot better earlier. Well, not exactly. Why are you so much grouchier today?”

Gil’s eyes flicker over to Miles, and Miles looks down, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Calvin says, “I’m tired because I got up early to jog, then you dragged me out here.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Chase cackles.

He only sits up again when Chase insists on getting a group photo. Grumbling something incoherent, Calvin squeezes in with them.

“I don’t need to be in it,” Miles says when Gil beckons for him to join.

“Nonsense,” Gil says. He reaches for Miles’s wrist and yanks him. Blushing, he joins the photo.

“I can’t believe I’m hanging out with Cloverlily,” Miles mumbles.

Chase yells, “I can’t believe I’m with a big-shot artist! ”

“I’m not—”

“I’ll send it to you all,” Chase interrupts. Even before Miles understands what’s going, he’s added to a group chat with the rest of them. The group name reads “Mission Save Hannah’s Inn”.

Gil frowns. “This is a really tactless name.”

“Is it?”

“It’s fine,” Miles assures.

His phone’s buzzing a lot. Miles hasn’t had the chance to read through the dozens of notifications he’s getting, and he knows it’s because of all the stories the band’s tagging him in. He might also be getting a ton of new followers. He wonders if this is what the band goes through on the daily—a constant buzzing of notifications.

“Hey, Miles. Have you heard our new song?” Chase asks. His voice is quieter now, and he’s lying on the blanket and staring straight up. He must be exhausted from all the messing around he did, because he’s fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Nope.”

“Cal, let him hear it. I think I’ve got it on my phone.”

With a grimace, Calvin says, “Please don’t.”

Ouch. Miles swigs down his soda, acting like he’s unaffected.

“You shouldn’t have sent it to the group with Theo, though,” Chase says, yawning. Gil smacks him lightly on the shoulder—a warning. “He might steal it.” Gil smacks him again, much stronger this time.

“I sent it to the group chat because he asked.” Calvin’s voice is quiet. “Also, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Why wouldn’t he? He’s taken credit for all the other songs.”

“Stop,” Gil says .

Miles stares between them, back and forth. He’s not a part of this. Gil quickly changes the topic to lighten the mood. They talk about some new songs that have been released, rumors about other bands, and Gil mentions he saw Calvin’s sister in the city.

“Miles,” Chase says, voice low. He inches toward Gil, and Gil peers down at him from where he’s sitting. Miles watches, curiously, as Chase nudges Gil to sit with his legs straight out. When Gil sighs and does that, Chase shifts and rests his head on his lap. “Miles,” Chase repeats. “Tell us about you.”

“Nothing much to say,” Miles says.

Gil runs his hand through Chase’s hair. How could Calvin have said they didn’t have anything going on? Calvin’s eyes are closed, oblivious to what’s in front of them.

“Do your parents run the inn?” Gil asks.

“My mom does. My dad passed away five years ago.”

Gil flinches, his hand freezing in Chase’s hair. Chase grunts and he moves his fingers again. At the same time, Calvin’s eyes flicker open slowly, and he meets Miles’s stare. His expression is stony and hard to read.

“I’m sorry,” Gil says.

“You’re fine!” It’s been years. He’s used to the awkward silence that follows when he talks about Dad, and he’s used to the sad expressions he gets in return. “My mom runs it all on her own now, but I’m here for a while because they’re having a tough time. I don’t know much about running an inn, but I’m trying.”

“That’s why they’re focusing on digital marketing,” Calvin mumbles .

“Yeah, you said that.” Gil scratches his chin. “I wonder if it’ll help if we do a livestream? Those seem to get us, what, a few thousand views at least.”

Shit. That’s more than he could ever expect. It’ll definitely help get word out, maybe do something for their booking goal. Miles nods way too enthusiastically.

“Are you dating anyone, Miles?” Chase suddenly asks. The change of subject disarms Miles. “Just curious.”

“No.” Beside him, Calvin shifts and puts an arm over his face. And, just because, Miles asks Chase, “Are you?”

“Nope. We’re a band of single dumbasses. I was seeing someone, but he said we wouldn’t work. Joke’s on him, though. I’ll win him back.”

He? Miles blinks.

Apparently, this small detail surprises his friends, too, because Calvin lowers his arm and exchanges a confused look with Gil.

Gil’s eyebrows furrow together. “Since when have you been into guys?”

“Since I figured out I was bi?”

Calvin says, “You’ve literally never mentioned this before.”

“Nobody asked.” Chase makes a disgruntled sound and grabs Gil’s wrist, yanking it back into his hair and demanding he move his fingers again.

Gil looks around bewildered, then Miles watches with amusement as his shoulders sag, and he lets whatever questions he had go, putting his hand back in Chase’s hair.

Chase adds, “But, yeah, Miles. None of us are dating anyone... for now.”

He peers at how he’s lying on Gil’s lap, and the way Gil is running his hand through his hair. Right.

“Did you… just come out to us?” Calvin asks unsurely, holding himself up on his elbow to stare at his friend. He looks so confused, and it’s the most adorable thing Miles has ever seen.

“I guess. Don’t worry, Cal, you’re not my type.”

Calvin sighs and lies back down. He deadpans, “I’m devastated.”

“Why’d he say it wouldn’t work?” Miles asks curiously, circling back to what Chase said earlier.

Chase is quiet for a beat too long, which is unlike him, so Miles knows he’s withholding something when he says, “Said I wasn’t present enough. It’s whatever. On that note, Gabby’s cute. You think she’d give me her number if I asked?”

“No,” Calvin says, curtly, before Miles can even answer. “Gabby is practically Miles’s sister. Don’t flirt with her.”

“I’m asking Miles! Geez… fine.” Chase huffs. “Anyway. Miles, are you looking to date? I might know some girls I can set you up with… or guys? Do you prefer dicks?”

Calvin lets out a soft wheeze.

“I do, uh, prefer dicks,” Miles says. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“I have a friend I can set you up with. Have you met Cal?” Chase doesn’t see it coming when Calvin props himself up on an elbow and reaches over to smack him on the chest. He yelps and tries to retaliate, but Gil yanks him back. Calvin lies down and puts his arm over his eyes again. Glaring at Calvin, Chase says, “Real talk, Miles. What’s your type? Who would you want?”

Gil takes notice when Miles doesn’t answer right away. “You can ignore him.”

His type?

He stares at the tattoos on Calvin’s arms. The ink’s dark and there’s so much detail, and it curves along his tight muscles. Miles wants to recreate it on paper. He isn’t paying attention to the conversation as his mind wanders.

Miles murmurs, “Someone who makes me want to paint.”

Calvin lowers his arm a bit to meet Miles’s eyes. Miles wonders why his brows knit together, and why he’s looking at him as if there’s a question on the tip of his tongue.

“What a coincidence,” Chase says. “Cal said once that his type is someone who makes him want to write songs.”

“Ah,” Miles says.

Calvin doesn’t take his eyes off Miles. His lips are a flat line, his jaw clenched, and Miles can’t read his expression. For some reason though, Miles fights to hold his gaze, as if it were a challenge he doesn’t want to back down from.

After a few seconds, Chase starts snoring, and Calvin shifts to his side, away from Miles.

“Typical,” Gil snorts. He doesn’t stop running his hand through Chase’s hair.

The group turns quiet and Miles lies down as well, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.