Page 53 of From Air

“Jamie doesn’t like pickles or broccoli. She’s obsessed with the color yellow. She says she listens to all genres of music, but I guarantee her playlist is nothing but Imagine Dragons and Ed Sheeran. When she’s tired, she gets cranky. And when she’s excited, she nearly cries. If she says she loves dogs, she’s lying. Jaymes is a total cat person. She hates to wear makeup. Never gets manicures or pedicures. And she was suspended from school for three weeks at the beginning of our senior year. But I’m not allowed to tell that story, so that’s all I can say about that.”

“I’m cutting you off.” I take her empty glass and slide a cup of water toward her. “Why stop there? Perhaps Fitz wants to know when I got my first period or where I bought my first training bra.” I press my palm to my head and shake it.

Melissa giggles, stirring her water with a straw. “Your first period was—”

“Oh my god. Stop!” I cover my face.

Melissa doesn’t stop. She drank too much tequila. “It was toward the end of our seventh-grade year. You got it at Andie Olmen’s house during her slumber party. Your mom was working, so my mom picked you up because you were so devastated. And you didn’t buy your first bra. I gave you one of mine because your mom said you weren’t ready for a bra, but you were the only one in our friend group who didn’t wear one. And since you were homeschooled, you were also the lucky one who didn’t have stupid boys snapping your bra strap.”

“I’m never coming back here. Our friendship ends now.”

Melissa bites her lower lip, but it doesn’t contain her laughter.

“Let’s go.” I retrieve my credit card, but Fitz plucks the bill from the table and heads to the bar to pay it without a word. “Can you walk?” I ask Melissa.

“Of course I can walk.” She stands on wobbly legs, adjusting her crop top before flashing unsuspecting patrons.

When I glance back at Fitz waiting at the bar, he signals for us to head toward the exit. We loop arms and start across the street. Fitz catches up by the time we reach her apartment building.

“Thanks for dinner. I would have paid,” I say.

He holds open the door for us. “You’re welcome.”

I get Melissa to her room and in bed. She giggles, mumbles something, sighs, and falls asleep.

After I shower to wash off the day’s travel germs, brush my teeth, and partially dry my hair, I pad on bare feet to the kitchen for water. “The bathroom’s all yours.”

Fitz hums his acknowledgment and slips into the bathroom for a shower. While he’s in there, I search for an extra pillow and blankets. Just as I exit the bedroom, he opens the bathroom door in a pair of black gym shorts riding low on his hips, exposing the wide gray waistband of his briefs.

I stare at his bare chest for a few seconds before lifting my gaze to his. “The blankets are thin. Hope you don’t get cold.”

Fitz lets his eyes wander down my body, past my oversize yellow tee to my bare legs. “I’ll be fine.” He takes the blankets and pillow from me and tosses them on the sofa, plopping down next to them.

I stack the pink decorative pillows on the white velvet armchair. “Sorry she drank too much. I think she was nervous. She always drinks too much when she’s nervous.”

“Why was she nervous?” He fluffs the pillow and unfolds the blankets, spreading one over the sofa to sleep on.

I laugh, closing the living room blinds. “I’m pretty sureyoumake her nervous.”

“Why would I make her nervous?”

I sit on the arm of the sofa. “If you’re fishing for compliments, I’m not giving them out tonight.”

“No? Why is that?” He stretches out on the sofa, lacing his hands behind his head. “Am I not Miguel?”

“Shut up.” I laugh. “God. She had major diarrhea of the mouth tonight.”

Fitz doesn’t respond. After a pregnant pause, I realize I’m staring at his bare chest and maybe a little lower than that. My gaze shoots to his face.

He grins.

I clear my throat. “Are your scars from the same fire?”

“No.”

“Is there a heroic story involved?”

He smirks. “No. But I could make one up if you want to fantasize about my scars.”

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