Page 205 of ClickBack

I close my book.

Jarrett glances over. “I’m bothering you.”

“No.”

“You were reading.”

“I was.”

He studies me, then the book in my lap. “Bad book?”

“Good company.”

That pleases him. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

“You just noticing?”

“I was going to say something nice.”

“Go ahead. I’m available.”

I laugh and set the book on the table. There isn’t an occasion for what I want to tell him. He hasn’t rescued me or bought anything. He has brought dinner, argued with a man on television, and put my feet where he likes them.

“I like being here with you,” I say.

“Your house.”

“You know what I mean.”

His smile softens. “I do.”

“I’ve been thinking about Texas. All the things we’ll have to arrange. Visits and work and who can go where.”

He puts the remote down.

“And I keep coming back to this,” I say. “Having you here when there’s nothing planned. Knowing I can ask a question and get more soccer than I intended.”

“You’re learning.”

“Against considerable resistance.”

He laughs. I look at him, at the man I can make laugh without preparing anything, and the next part comes out before I decide whether it sounds foolish.

“You’re my friend.”

He goes quiet. His hand has been resting on my ankle. He moves it to my knee, looking at me now instead of the television.

“Yeah, Zel.”

It isn’t a surprised answer. That is what gets me.

My eyes fill. I remove my glasses, irritated with myself, and look for somewhere to put them.

He takes them and sets them on my book.

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand.

“I’m fine where I am.”