Page 23 of Home in Nevada

“My parents always come to LA for Christmas.”

“Oh.” He falls silent again, staring at his hands.

The pause stretches, heavy, until I finally say, “Hey, I was thinking… Maybe you could come visit me for New Year’s or something. I’ve got a new place. Slightly less crappy than the old one.”

Jamie’s eyes brighten, his whole face lighting up as he sits up straighter. “Really?”

I laugh and nudge his side with my leg, almost knocking him off the bed. He laughs, too, and the sound sends a chaotic thrill through my chest.

“Yeah, really,” I say, smirking. “Unless that’ll piss off your boyfriend.”

Jamie’s laugh softens, but he shakes his head. “It’s not that serious. We’ve only been dating a couple weeks. I’ll tell him next time I see him. He’ll be fine with it.”

“For real? Because I’d be pissed if I were your boyfriend and you told me that. Like,superpissed.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow, his expression caught between amusement and curiosity. “Well, you’re not my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m not,” I reply, my voice catching on something between resignation and a quiet ache.

I sit up, shifting closer to him, and before I can stop myself, my hand grabs the front of his shirt. His eyes widen slightly, surprised, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he watches me, his breath hitching just enough that I notice.

I tug him toward me, wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders, my face pressing into the curve of his neck. His scent hits me again and I can’t help but breathe him in, my grip tightening like I’m afraid he might disappear if I let go.

“Come on, hug me back,” I mutter, my voice softer now, almost pleading. “You’re such a loser.”

Jamie laughs, a low, quiet sound that vibrates against my chest. “You’re the one clinging to me, dude.” But he shrugs like it’s nothing and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in tighter than I expect.

His warmth seeps into me, steady and grounding, like an anchor I didn’t know I needed. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, closing my eyes as the noise in my head finally quiets.

For a second, it’s just him. Just us.

And I forget everything else.

Without thinking, I flip Jamie onto the bed beside me, my arms still wrapped tightly around him, and press my lips to his.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I can’t help it.

The kiss feels desperate, like every stupid, bottled-up emotion is pouring out of me all at once. My head spins with how much of an idiot I’m being—coming here, letting this happen, risking everything. I know Tiffany will be furious. I know Jamie has a boyfriend. I know it’s wrong. I know it makes me a bad person, doing this. And none of it stops me.

When Jamie finally kisses me back, his lips parting just enough for my tongue to graze his, a soft groan escapes me. The sensation of him responding—his warmth, his taste—sends a shiver down my spine.

I know we shouldn’t be doing this. Not with everyone still in the house. Not with Jamie in a relationship. Not with me tangled in my own mess.

But every ounce of self-control I have around Jamie crumbles the second I touch him. It’s always been this way, and it’s exactly why I shouldn’t have come back. Why I left in the first place.

I cup his face in my hands, my fingers tracing the curve of his jaw as I deepen the kiss. The feel of his breath on my skin is dizzying, pulling me under.

The nostalgia hits hard—like a tidal wave. It feels just like old times, sneaking moments together, getting lost in each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

I tilt my head, breaking the kiss to trail my lips down his neck. My tongue flicks against the soft skin near his ear, and I start to suck gently, savoring the way his body responds. Jamie’s quiet sounds—those soft, breathy noises he tries to stifle—send jolts of electricity through me. My hips press against his leg almost instinctively, and he shifts, slipping his thigh between mine, his hands gripping my waist with a firmness that sends my pulse racing. I press my hips into him again, seeking more friction as I feel my dick throb painfully against the zipper of my jeans.

“Jeff,” Jamie whispers, his voice trembling, and it only fans the flames of my desire. I kiss the edge of his jaw, lingering near his ear again, my hands tangled in his hair.

“Jeffrey,”he says again, louder this time.

I pause, lifting my head to look at him. His face is flushed, his soft brown eyes meeting mine with a mix of amusement and something deeper—something that sends fire rushing through my veins.

“What?” I ask, smirking, trying to ignore the frantic pounding of my heart.

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