Page 107 of The Americana Playbook

With the light on, I see the hurt etched into Fitz’s face. His dimple I love is invisible because of the way he softly frowns. I know that unloading everything now will only make his frown deeper and leave me, well, worse.

“I know I’ve boxed you out.” I admit. “And I’m sorry I’m doing that.. But I can’t talk about it now, not at night.”

Fitz’s hand stills on my arm. “I just want to make sure you know you can trust me.”

I hate I’ve made him feel otherwise. “You’re the only one I do trust, Fitz.”

He resumes sweeping my arm. I watch the thoughts circle through his irises, and it takes all I have to refrain from asking what’s going on in his head. I don’t have that right. But Fitz is justsogood, so trusting, he tells me anyway with no strings.

“About the pool.” Fitz stills his hand above my elbow. “I care about you, Parker. Too much…you’re my?—”

“Friend,” I cut in. “I’m your friend.”

“You’re more than that and you know it.”

Between the power behind his words and the strength of his eyes now returned to mine, I’m stunned silent.

“Parker, if that wasn’t true, thinking about how you feel wouldn’t keep me up at night. And while fucking around by the pool sounds”—Fitz pauses, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth but quickly releasing it—“it doesn’t help youhere.”

I know he isn’t talking about the literal bed, but the space we share between us that goes wherever we do, that feels filled to the max given the length of our friendship, but still seems to magically have room to stretch and grow with us.

When Fitz’s hand leaves my arm to brush my hair back from my face, I find myself hoping I’d be lucky to do that, to grow with the man who was once the boy always at my side, the man who thinks about my needs before I knew what they were.

The pensive look on his face disappearing as he drags his eyes up to mine, “What if I gave you something else to think about?”

At first I think Fitz has inched closer because his breath now tickles the tip of my nose. But then I realize, as I drive my knee into the mattress and scoot, it’s me that’s moved to him, as if my body knows he’s a safe anchor to latch onto.

But I know, with the way he drags his hand down, his fingers searching for mine that we’re both guilty of moving toward each other.

I swallow heavily. “What’s that?”

The moment the fingertips touch, my pulse sprints for the finish line when the race hasn’t even begun yet.

Fitz threads his fingers with mine. “Me.”

The smoothness of his voice makes my eyes flutter closed and my body softens, melting into the mattress.

“It’s just you and me in here, Parker,” Fitz whispers. “You can’t control what or who is out there, but youknowyou have me here. Just like at home.”

It takes a lot of effort to push out even two small words. “I know. We’ll be home tomorrow.”

He shakes his head against the pillow.

“What?”

“I don’t feel like I’mnotat home when I’m with you,” he says, and I swear, I think I hear relief accompany his words, as if Fitz is sitting for confession, as if he’s letting go of a secret that’s weighed heavily on him. “Not even in the beginning.”

“The beginning of all this?”

“No, Parker,” Fitz whispers. “The beginning ofus.”

Fitz finds a way to move closer. Our noses touch. My brain tries to search for the moment Fitz is talking about, but it’s hard to stray away from right now. Because I can feel it—this is the moment the entire world is about to change forever.

And I want it to.

There’s a nervous tick to Fitz’s breathing. It pushes the air from his chest faster, hints of his breath tickling my lips. “Parker…”

His whisper is a final warning. But Fitz should know there’s a reason we’re in this situation in the first place. I’ve never been good at doing what I’m told.

---