Page 87 of Home in Nevada

I just smile and keep pulling until we’re in the bathroom. I turn on the shower and glance back at him.

“I like your… shorts,” I comment, letting my eyes wander down his frame.

Jamie blushes, and I smirk, loving the way the pink creeps into his cheeks. What’s going on with him today?

I gently grab his waist, pulling him closer, and kiss him. It’s slow and lingering, and for a moment, everything feels right. When the water finally warms up, I lead him into the shower.

Nothing happens in there. Nothing likethat,despite the tension from the beach earlier.

But it’s... nice. I love it. The way the water pours over both of us, the way his presence grounds me—it’s perfect, except for one thing: Jamie still feels distant. I can’t shake the sense that something’s off. I’m desperate to figure out what’s going on, but I can’t think about anything intimate when he’s like this. It wouldn’t feel right.

The shower is annoying, the water alternating between hot and lukewarm every minute, and I curse under my breath. Why is it doing thisnow?

After we’re done, barely speaking to each other, Jamie heads to the bedroom to change into sweatpants. I stand there in my towel, watching him from the doorway.

“What?” he asks, his face still flushed, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

“I can’t watch my boyfriend get dressed?”

Jamie hesitates, his eyes flicking away. “No, it’s not that. I just...”

I narrow my eyes, my patience wearing thin. “Jamie, come on. What’s wrong? You’ve been weird all day, and it’s not because I’m disgustingly ripped now. Just tell me what’s up.”

He fidgets with the drawstring on his sweatpants, avoiding eye contact. His silence is deafening.

“...Are you over this?” I ask, even though the question terrifies me. “Over me?”

Jamie laughs, finally looking up at me. “Hell no. You're kidding, right?”

Relief floods my chest, and I exhale, my shoulders relaxing.

“Okay,” I say, but his expression shifts slightly, and I catch the hesitation in his eyes.

“Is it—”

“I just...” He cuts me off, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not feeling... attractive.”

The words take a second to register, and when they do, I blink at him, completely thrown. “...Sorry, what?!”

“Hot,” he corrects, laughing at himself, but there’s this edge of vulnerability in his voice that catches me off guard. “Seeing how much you’ve been working on yourself, seeing you like this... it just makes me feel like... I don’t feel hot.”

I stare at him, my brain scrambling to process the absolute absurdity of what he just said.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters, his cheeks turning even redder, which only makes me stare harder.

“No. You’re so stupid,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Like, you’re a bigger idiot than I ever thought was humanly possible for an idiot to be.”

Jamie finally cracks a grin, that toothy, lopsided smile of his that makes my heart melt every single damn time.

I walk over to him, and he rolls his eyes as I get closer, but he’s still smiling. He places a hand on my chest to stop me, but I ignore it, stepping into his space.

“Jeff, stop. I know what you’re going to say,” he says, trying to sound annoyed. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s nothing. I’ll probably feel better tomorrow.”

“Jamie, quit it,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning in to nuzzle my face into his neck. He freezes for a moment, then his arms slide around my shoulders, holding me tightly.

“What part of you are you talking about?” I whisper against his skin. “Because I still think you’re being an idiot.”

“You can’t just call me an idiot when I’m telling you how I feel,” he mumbles, his voice softer now.

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