Page 85 of Home in Nevada

He laughs softly and leans on his side next to me, propping his head up with one hand.

“And you’re barely looking at me,” I add, my voice a little more playful, but I mean it. Ineedhis attention; it feels like a drug I can’t go without.

Jamie laughs again, shaking his head, and places a hand on my cold, wet chest. The contrast of his warm touch against my skin sends a small shiver through me. “It’s because you look really good right now,” he says, his tone soft but steady, ignoring the way I narrow my eyes at him in question. “I haven’t seen you this into something since football.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but his words hit something deep. “I’m not that good yet, but I like surfing.”

“I know,” he says, his gaze drifting across my face. “I can tell. You seem... in your element. Jeff, I’m not used to you doing something better than me.”

I laugh, catching a flicker of something in his eyes that I can’t quite place. “Dude, are you jealous of my surfing skills?”

“…Not really,” he says, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand slides lower down my chest, his fingers tracing lightly over my skin. The touch tickles, and another shiver runs through me, this one harder to ignore.

I study him, his expression, the tension in his posture. Something’s off, but I can’t figure out what. Jamie’s been unusually quiet today, and it’s gnawing at me.

“You suck,” I say, my tone hovering between a challenge and a joke. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Jamie’s cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he pulls his hand away, leaving behind an ache I didn’t expect. That touch was one of the few moments of connection I’ve felt all day, and now it’s gone.

“Jamie,” I say, my voice more serious now. “You’re supposed to talk to me. What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Fuck, Jeff, nothing’s wrong,” he says, laughing again, but his face is still flushed, and his laughter feels too light, too forced. “Just let it go.”

“Is it because you hate the beach?”

“I don’t hate the beach,” he says, his voice softening a little. “I actually like it.”

I watch him carefully, waiting for him to say more, to give me something—anything—but he doesn’t. He just leans back, letting his gaze drift toward the waves again, leaving me to sit with the weight of the words he’s not saying.

“Then what’s the issue? Is it because I didn’t come looking for you when you ran off?” I ask, trying to read his expression.

Jamie looks at me, his gaze sharper, more intense than I expect. His hand slides back onto my stomach, warm and flat against my skin this time.

“No, it’s not that,” he says, his voice quiet but firm. “You just look... really different.”

“…What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual, even though my pulse is kicking up.

Jamie’s hand starts to move, his fingers lightly tracing over my torso. The touch sends a shiver through me, and I have to fight to keep from reacting too much. I’m not entirely successful, and I know he notices. His fingers press a little firmer, skimming my sides and tracing over the line of fine hair at my navel.

I smirk, trying to regain my composure. “How do I look different?”

Jamie grins. “Well, for one, you’re tan now. And... this.”

His fingers trace my stomach again, lingering just enough to make me swallow hard. He’s definitely talking about my abs. Before I can stop him, one of his long, slim fingers slips under my waistband, and I laugh, grabbing his hand.

“Stop, that tickles...”

Truth is, he’s about five seconds away from giving me a very public boner I’m absolutely not in a position to deal with right now.

“How did you get like this in just a few months?!” he asks, mock outrage in his voice, but his grin is anything but innocent.

“I didn’t do anything special,” I explain, shrugging. “I just started working out again, like I used to. And, you know, all the swimming probably helped.”

Jamie’s hand doesn’t move from my stomach, and I glance down at it, suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact.

“Jeff, you look really good,” he says, and there’s something so warm in his tone that it catches me off guard. The sun’s setting behind him, turning his blonde hair into a halo. He looks angelic—if angels were capable of the kind of lustful intensity I’m seeing in his eyes.

I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep my cool, but the heat pooling in my stomach betrays me. I place my hand over his, feeling the tension simmer between us. “Oh...” I say, grinning like an idiot because I don’t know what else to do.

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