Page 110 of The Americana Playbook

“Tick tock.”

I didn’t need a clock. I felt every second of his eyes on my body. All forty of them before something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention in the mirror behind him.

It was Sarah. But as soon as she appeared, she retreated. My stomach dropped, but I wouldn’t have blamed her for leaving even if she hadn’t done what she did in that moment.

Scream.

There were no words, just sounds. But enough to sound the alarm. Enough for the orderly with me to leave and for others to flood the bathroom.

I didn’t shower. I tightened my towel and looked down the hall at where they dragged her away. And do you know what she did? She winked at me.

I haven’t seen her since. That means she’s in stable. That means she’s totally isolated in the same room I was during my first few days. It’s dark, so dark. It stinks. The food they serve you there is inedible. And she did that for me.

I’ll never forget her. As soon as she’s out, the rebellion begins. Forget hammers. We’ll use our fists, our feet, and our pain to get out of here. There’s enough of it to take down a wall.

Rebels Only.

Parker.

Hookingmy finger around the silky strap of Parker’s pajama top, I slide it back into place, smiling as it falls again. Her deep breathing lets me know she’s still asleep, so I drop my lips to her soft skin, lingering to appreciate the sweetness radiating from it.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand continuously, but I make no move to answer the call. For one, I know it’s Coach calling, even though I emailed all staff explaining I was stuck in DC and will miss avoluntarymeeting ahead of a holiday. And two, nothing could drag me away from the happiness I feel waking next to Parker, watching the early day’s light come through the break of the curtain.

The light paints pictures on her skin, kind of like the shadow puppets we used to make as kids against the wood planks inside the clubhouse. But this time, I don’t see an elephant or a duck. I see bits and pieces of us filling the constellations connected by the freckles and beauty marks on Parker’s back.

And when she stirs, rolling onto her stomach, I see the top of the scar. I don’t look at it for more than two seconds—more than I can take—before my eyes are called to the portable lock sandwiched into the door. I try to ignore how my skin grows tight and prickly and scoot closer, lying part of my body gently on top of her.

Parker lets out a soft sigh and snuggles into me, her foot rubbing against my calf.

“You’re here,” she mumbles, finally turning her head.

I lean back so I can see her face. “I’m here.”

Parker rubs the sleep from her eyes while I hold my breath, wondering if we’ll backtrack to yesterday and further even though we’ve started a new day.

But even after last night, it’s this moment—when she reaches out and cups my cheek of her own volition—that I’ll never forget. I drop a kiss into her palm, hiding in it. The ring on her finger presses against me. I kiss that too.

“Fitz…”

“I did have a crush on you when we were younger,” I confess, wondering if she can feel the race of my pulse drumming against her wrist angled against my neck. “But now, it would be insulting to call it that.”

Reducing my feelings to acrushat any point seems inappropriate, but what the hell am I supposed to say after last night? After, in a moment of panic, I stopped Parker from removing my underwear and exposing what I’ve been hiding for what feels like the entirety of my life, what can I possibly say?

SomehowI’ve been in love with you forever and I’m terrified now that you know you’ll run awayseems like, well, a pathway to destruction of whatever I have in this moment.

The truth is, I could’ve turned the light off and stripped away the barrier, saidfuck itto the boundaries, slid myself inside her, and given her every part of me.

But if I don’t give Parker my heart, I’m not giving her much at all.

I start small. Baby steps.

“I’d be lying if I said I’m fine with this having an end date before we gave it a shot. Before you givemearealshot,” I add.

Parker swallows heavily before I continue, her eyes sleepy no more. But they’re wary. I can tell, and that should make me nervous.

I clear my throat. “And for me, that means, all this”—my eyes flicker around the room—“it’s for show. It’s the means to get you to an end, and that’s fine with me as long as this is real.” I press her hand firmer against my cheek. “Because none of this is how I’d do it in real life anyway.”

“W-what do you mean?”

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