Page 40 of Home in Nevada

And somehow, I’m even more out of my depth.

Jamie hasn’t lit up like this since we played football together in high school. He’s practically glowing as he talks through the specs of one of his cameras. Most of it flies right over my head, but I don’t care—I’m just enjoying watching him. The way his eyes shine when he’s talking about something he loves… God, it’s something else.

Jamie’s so animated, so alive. People are always drawn to him because of that. He’s exciting, interesting, fun. He’s such a fucking catch. And no, it’s not just the wine making him glow.

Me? I was popular in high school because I could take anyone down on the football field. By senior year, I was a tank. People cheered for me, made those cheesy signs with my name on them. But I wasn’t charming or exciting—not like Jamie. I could do more pushups than anyone else, but that’s not exactly a skill anyone cares about once high school is over.

The fame was good while it lasted, I guess.

“Do you want to get dessert?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I just want to see Jamie’s eyes light up.

He doesn’t disappoint.

We order tiramisu. I already know Jamie doesn’t want to share, so I just go ahead and order two.

When the desserts arrive, and the waiter leaves the table, Jamie thanks him, then looks at me, his expression softening with concern.

“Hey,” Jamie says, cutting into his tiramisu. His cheeks are flushed all the way to his eyes, and I can tell he’s definitely tipsy. “Why are you so quiet?”

“Huh?” I haven’t even touched my spoon yet—I’ve been too busy zoning out on Jamie’s face.

“You’re being so quiet...” He lifts an eyebrow, taking his time savoring his dessert.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you really are.” He furrows his brow, leaning forward a little. “Are you embarrassed? To be eating here with me?”

I laugh and pick up my spoon, twisting my face in mock offense. “What? No. I’m not embarrassed at all.”

“Okay... Cool.”

Jamie doesn’t look convinced. “So...” He smirks, pointing his spoon at me. “Why are you so quiet?”

I take a deep breath, locking eyes with him. My chest tightens. I feel like an idiot, but there’s no way I can lie to him. Not anymore.

“I’m nervous.”

God, I hate how honest he makes me.

Jamie stops mid-bite, looking at me like I just said something ridiculous. Then he grins, biting the end of his spoon as his eyes sweep me up and down.

“Jeff, why the fuck are you nervous?”

I can’t hold his gaze anymore. The way he’s looking at me... it’s too much. I know confidence is supposed to be sexy, and I’ve brought none of that to this table—literally. I already feel like I’ve screwed this whole thing up.

I take a bite of tiramisu, trying to dodge the question, but I know I’m not fooling him.

“Jeffrey...”

I watch as Jamie reaches across the table, placing his hand over mine. His fingers squeeze gently, and he stares down at his dessert, his jaw tightening.

“Why the hell are you nervous, dude? It’s just me.”

I flip my hand over, holding his for a second before I force myself to meet his gaze again. His eyes… those big, soft, brown eyes. They melt me.

Jamie has these freckles on the bridge of his nose, just a few, scattered by his eyes. Sometimes he has them on his shoulders too, and I’ve always liked them. His cheeks are pink, probably from all the wine, and he looks so... perfect.

“I dunno...” My voice wavers, so I clear my throat, trying to play it off. “I know, it’s weird.”

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