Page 93 of Home in Nevada

He smirks, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel. “You’ll see. We’re making a stop.”

“It’s past ten. Nothing’s open,” I say, leaning back against the seat.

Jamie laughs, running a hand through his messy blonde hair as he turns the wheel. “Hey, have you ever lived here before or anything?” he teases, glancing at me with that familiar glint in his eye.

I can’t help but laugh too, even as my cheeks heat up. “Okay, fair point.” I forgot how many places around here stay open late. Or, like, all night.

It doesn’t take long for me to figure out where we’re headed. My heart drops a little when Jamie pulls into the parking lot of our old high school. The field lights cast a bluish glow across the grass, and I feel this weird wave of nostalgia hit me like a truck.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, peering out the passenger window at the empty stands and quiet field. Everything looks smaller than I remember.

Jamie doesn’t answer. He just parks the car near the dumpster—always the romantic—and grabs a backpack from the backseat before heading toward the football field.

“Dude... what are you doing?” I call after him, getting out of the car.

“Just follow me,” he says, laughing as he strides toward the chain-link fence. Without missing a beat, he climbs over it like it’s nothing, landing gracefully on the other side.

“Show-off,” I mutter, hesitating for a second before awkwardly scaling the fence myself. Naturally, I misjudge my height and land with a solid thud on the other side. Jamie’s already halfway across the field by the time I catch up, turning a corner behind the bleachers.

As I round the corner, I nearly run straight into him. “Oh... hey,” I mumble, my breath catching when he grabs me without warning, pulling me into a tight hug.

He hugs me so hard I lose my balance, and we both go tumbling onto the grass. The cold, damp ground presses against my back, even through my hoodie, but I don’t care. My heart’s racing, and all I can think about is Jamie’s weight on top of me and the way he’s laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I look up at him, grinning as he props himself on one elbow, his brown eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“What is this?” I ask, still skeptical but smiling.

Jamie’s smile softens, and he looks down at me like he’s seeing something he’s missed for years. “This is where I realized I was in love with you,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “When I knew it wasn’t just a crush anymore... When I knew I was in deep trouble because you weren’t taking me seriously.”

I’m caught off guard by how open he’s being, but I don’t say anything. My chest feels tight as he leans down and kisses my forehead, lingering for just a second before meeting my eyes again.

“What year?” I ask, my voice softer now.

“Senior year. Right before prom and graduation. Right before you told me you were moving,” he says, the weight of his words settling between us.

I wince a little, the memory of that time hitting me like a gut punch. Senior year’s mostly a blur—a mess of stress, mistakes, and trying to keep it together. I don’t remember much, but I remember telling Jamie I was leaving.

“You pulled me under here after everyone started leaving, after the game was over and we won,” Jamie says, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “You hugged me for a long time... I loved it. You told me I was the best player. You said a lot of really sweet things when you kissed me then... You were really happy we won. I think you were just high off the adrenaline, but it was cute. You’d never been so sweet to me before.”

He looks a little unsure now, like he’s afraid he’s said too much. I feel my cheeks heat up, but I can’t look away.

“I remember that,” I murmur. “You played so well that day.”

Jamie smiles, but it’s faint. “You usually didn’t talk at all when we made out... but that day, you kept saying all these sweet things. It was so romantic. You made me feel like I was yours. That’s when I knew I loved you and wanted you to be that happy forever, no matter if it was with me or not.”

My throat tightens, and I don’t know what to say, so I let him keep going.

Jamie takes a deep breath, his voice quieter now. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but... I think it was good that you moved.”

My expression darkens instantly. “What? Why the hell would you say that?”

“Because it forced me to stop and think,” he says, meeting my eyes with a look so steady it makes me pause. “It forced me to accept myself—my sexuality—and how I felt about you. Honestly, Jeff, if you had stayed after graduation... I think I would’ve scared you away so fast.”

Jamie’s gaze locks onto mine, and I can’t look away. Those eyes—they’ve always had this way of pulling me in, but tonight, they’ve got me completely lost. I want to kiss him. He looks so beautiful under the moonlight, the stark white glow of the streetlamp catching in his hair, softening every line of his face. And he’s sharing his thoughts with me, just laying them out there like this is easy for him now.

I love this side of Jamie. The way he’s been opening up more lately. He’s the most patient, loving, hardworking, and fun person I’ve ever met, and I’m hopelessly, stupidly in love with him.

Whatever happened to bring us back here, together behind the bleachers as a couple, I’m grateful for it.

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