Page 51 of From Air

“Jamie!” Melissa squeals the second we exit the secure area. She hikes up her denim crop top and slides her phone into her baggy white linen pants.

I drop my carry-on next to Fitz and run into my best friend’s arms.

“I’ve missed yousomuch!” I don’t want to let her go, but I do.

She narrows her eyes, glancing over my shoulder. “Um ... is he with you?”

I chose not to explain Fitz to her over the phone. My plan was to think of a solid explanation on the plane. That didn’t happen.

With him at my back, I give her a tight smile and wide eyes. “Be cool. Okay?”

Her gaze remains glued to him. “Pfft.My middle name is Cool.” She shoulders past me. “Hi. I’m Melissa, Jamie’s BFF. You must be the gift she brought me.”

Yep. She’ssocool.

“Calvin, this is Melissa. Mel, this is my roommate, Calvin.”

Her merlot-painted lips twist as she offers him her hand. “Sex Dream Calvin?”

Please, God. Just let me die.

His smile swells in increments, right along with his ego. I think he’s two inches taller than he was just moments ago. “In the flesh,” he says.

They laugh while my skin ignites into a bonfire of embarrassment.

“How was your first time flying?” Melissa loops her arm around mine, and we exit the airport.

“I don’t want to jump out of the plane. I don’t know who would do something like that. But I love flying.” I glance over my shoulder at Fitz.

His gaze lifts from my ass to my face, and he winks. Fitz is not a winker. What’s that wink all about? My ass? My comment about jumping out of planes?

“Fitz’s hotel is not far from your apartment.”

“What?” Melissa opens her convertible’s trunk.

“He’s staying at a hotel.” I start to lift my roller bag in, but Fitz grabs it from me.

He’s full of little surprises; each one makes a new crack in my heart.

“Nonsense.” Melissa shakes her head as Fitz loads his bag.

“It’s not nonsense. He’s—”

“Shh.” She holds out her hand before opening her door. “Not another word.”

The second we step into Melissa’s one-bedroom apartment, I focus on Fitz and his wide-eyed inspection. It’s an oasis of white furniture, white paint, and white trim with hot-pink accent pillows, rugs, flowers, and washi tape, affixing black-and-white prints along one wall. Another wall displays a collection of hats in a gradient of pink shades.

“I like pink,” she says with a shrug before gesturing to the sofa. “I put clean sheets on my bed. You two can have it, or—”

“I’ll sleep with you. Fitz will sleep on the sofa.”

Fitz clears his throat. “Or, I can sleep with Melissa, and you can sleep on the—”

“Stop!” I giggle. “Mel, you have to promise to ignore everything Fitz says. Bullshit is his native language.”

She blots her brow. “What? Sorry. I didn’t hear anything after Fitz suggested he sleep with me.”

“Do you sleep on the right or left? Top or bottom?” he asks with a smirk.

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