Page 69 of Home in Nevada

Jamie: I was in the middle of a meeting and had to keep a straight face.

Oh, shit. A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it. I can’t help but feel a little humorously proud of myself.

I type back quickly, barely able to contain my amusement.

Jeff: Try getting a dick pick in the middle of class, Jamie.

Jamie: We're even then.

I can practically picture him rolling his eyes, that exasperated look he gets when I’ve clearly crossed a line

Jamie: Btw I didn't forget, you idiot.

Jamie: You're not exactly forgettable.

Jamie: Also you can't handle all this??so… stop with all the big talk.

Jeff: Get your ass over here already.

Jamie: I'm coming, damn... See you soon.

I sigh, roll up my sleeves, and start tidying up. Dishes get washed, blankets folded, random clutter shoved into drawers or any space I can find. It’s not exactly thorough, but by the time I’m done, the place actually looks decent. Maybe even cozy, like the kind of place you’d want to come home to.

Then I get an idea—one I almost immediately regret having. I dim the lights, rummage through the drawers for every candle I can find, and light them. The warm glow fills the room, soft and kind of... intimate.

It’s a lot. Way more than I usually go for.

I blow them all out. Then light them again. I start pacing the room, muttering under my breath, second-guessing every decision I’ve made in the last ten minutes.

Now I'm freaking out.

The whole thing feels so damn cheesy, like something out of a rom-com I’d pretend to hate but secretly get way too into. I’m not this guy—the romantic one. I never thought I had it in me. It always felt pointless before, like no one would notice or care if I tried. So why am I trying now?

But with Jamie... everything’s different. I want to care. I wanthimto care. And now I’m stuck here overthinking every single candle flame, worrying that when he walks in, he’ll laugh, crack a joke, maybe even call me out for trying too hard. The thought stings, but I know he would mean it in his Jamie way—playful, teasing. Still, it makes me feel exposed in a way I’m not used to.

When the front door finally opens, I freeze, my heart pounding like I’ve just been caught red-handed in the middle of something ridiculous. The candles are relit, the room bathed in a warm, flickering glow, and there I am standing in the kitchen, fumbling with an old Christmas candle I dug out from the back of a cabinet.

But Jamie doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease. Instead, his beautiful, tired face softens, and then lights up with the biggest, most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. In that instant, all the nervous energy I’d been holding onto drains out of me, leaving nothing but warmth in its place.

It’s worth it. Every cheesy, awkward second. It’s not about the candles or the tidying or any of the effort I’m overthinking—it’s about him. About us. And for once in my life, I don’t feel ridiculous for wanting to try.

Chapter 17

The one where Jeff’s journal roasts him to hell and back.

"Hey,Ihavetoconfess something to you," Jamie says suddenly, his head resting on my chest as we lie in bed. It’s Tuesday night, and my flight is tomorrow. The thought of leaving him twists my stomach into knots.

"...What, you want to go again or something?" I grin, even though I’m not sure I can. But honestly? I’m up for trying.

"No... I mean, yes, but no. That’s not it."

I prop myself up on my elbows, looking down at him. His head falls back onto the pillow, and his face is frustratingly unreadable.

"What did you do?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. I scan his face for clues, but Jamie’s always been a goddamn expert at keeping me guessing.

"James," I tease, letting the name roll off my tongue just to mess with him. "How did you cheat on me already?"

Jamie laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that’s contagious, even when I don’t want it to be. "Hey, you can’t call me that. Shit, dude.James?It’s weird… Cut that out."

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