Fitz watches me.
Fitz subscribes to my channel.
Fitz is ShootsAndScores.
Fitz pays me.
That’s all that’s been playing in my mind for the last three days as I’ve lain in bed. I’ve skipped work, leaving Stevie to pick up my slack. I’ve even skipped classes. I sure as hell haven’t done any streaming, leaving my subscribers to resort to DMing me trying to figure out where I’ve gone to. I have no doubt I’ve lost a few of them by now, but I can’t be bothered to worry about losing that income. I’ll figure something else out, possibly something that has nothing to do with being on camera because right now, just looking at my computer has my stomach rolling.
Fitz watches me.
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the sweet guy behind the keyboard, the guy I thought was just being friendly…it was the guy I’ve been crushing on the entire time. Every conversation, every gentle push to give Fitz another chance…it was all him.
I’m hurt.
I’m mad.
I’m…still craving his touch.
God, how messed up does that make me? Probably pretty damn fucked in the head, but I can’t help it. Having his hands on me…his lips…having him watch me as I fingered myself to release…it was everything I didn’t know I needed. I loved every minute we shared in that bathroom—until he uttered words that changed everything.
I steer my car into the gravel lot and pull into my familiar parking spot. I shift into park and finally drag my eyes to the place I’ve been avoiding for days now. It still looks the same, the bright baby blue truck with the cute little awning and the books stacked on a shelf that sits off to one side. The picnic tables each have a basket of napkins and a small vase filled with fresh flowers from the market down the street. Everything looks the same, but it all feels so different. This is the place I first met Fitz, and now it feels tainted too.
Stevie is moving around inside the truck, bustling from one side to the other as she preps the donuts for the day.
I owe her so much for covering for me. I know there’s no way she wasn’t completely hungover after the party, and I know Sunday must have been nuts because it’s always packed. Monday tends to bring a crowd too. I’m awful for letting her manage this all on her own, but I couldn’t bring myself to show back up here. Not after everything.
I check the clock on the dash of my Toyota: we’re set to open in half an hour. I should really get in there and help her.
“You can do this, Rosie,” I mutter. “You’re a badass who has handled heartbreak before. You got this too.”
I let out a heavy sigh, shut my car off, and push my door open. I grab my purse from the passenger seat, then step out. Slowly, I make my way toward the truck I’m dreading walking into.
When I’m halfway there, Stevie spots me, and the smile that fills her face makes the guilt that’s sitting in my chest feel ten pounds heavier.
“You’re here!” She claps her hands together, looking like her usual sunshiny self as she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I missed you!”
I smile for the first time in days. “I missed you too.”
And it’s true. I did miss her. It was never her I was upset with or avoiding.
It’s him.
I cross the rest of the way to the truck, and the minute I’m inside, Stevie’s throwing her arms around me, pulling me into a hug.
“Oh my gosh,” she practically squeals, hugging me tightly. “I was starting to worry I’d never see you again.” She pulls back, her eyes scanning over me in that typical mom look they all give a child they’re worried about. “How are you feeling?”
There’s so much sincerity in her words and in the stare she’s giving me, and before I know it, my chin is wobbling and I can feel the stupid tears forming in my eyes.
Stevie’s face falls. “Oh no, what’s wrong? What happened?”
And then the tears fall free.
She steers me over to the chair we have in the back, the one that hardly ever gets used inside the truck, everyone always opting to take it out back and into the sunshine. She pushes me into it gently, then kneels on the floor in front of me. She sits there for several minutes, not once rushing me or asking me to talk to her. She just rubs my arm, letting me work through whatever this is.
I can’t remember the last time I cried like this. Maybe when Levi told me he was leaving? But this…this feels different.
When I’ve finally calmed down enough, I wipe my tears from my face and blow out a breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her.
She shakes her head. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. I’m just… Are you all right?”
Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really, but I probably should.”
She smiles sadly. “I know how that is.”
I sigh shakily, then roll my tongue over my lips, tasting the salt from my tears. “It’s…” The words get stuck in my throat.
It’s hard because it hurts but also because it’s so damn embarrassing. How stupid am I? How could I not have known something like this would happen?
“Is it Fitz?”
My eyes snap to Stevie’s. “How…”
She shrugs. “He’s been coming by every day since the party asking for you, and every day, he looks worse and worse. You weren’t coming in and he looked like crap and I might have heard from my sister and Miller that they saw you run away from the party, so I just kind of assumed…”
“Oh.” I nod, squeezing my eyes shut, holding back the tears that threaten again. “It’s Fitz.”
“What happened? I thought maybe the party was finally your chance. I mean, I was pretty drunk”—she grins sheepishly—“but I saw how he was looking at you. He was totally into you, and I know you’re into him. What’d I miss?”
“It’s kind of a long story, and we don’t have long before we open…”
“If you think opening this truck is more important than whatever’s going on, you’re wrong.” She squeezes my arm. “Talk to me.”
I sigh, then launch into the long story of everything that’s happened with Fitz over the last few weeks, including what happened at the Halloween party over the weekend. She listens to every word, not interrupting, letting me get it all out.
When I’m finally done, she gives me a soft smile. “He’s a fucking moron.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, and it feels so damn good. I needed it more than I realized.
“He really is,” I agree, and I mean it.
“But…” Stevie sighs. “Please don’t get mad at me for saying this, but I don’t think he meant any harm.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, because as much as I hate to admit it, Stevie’s right. That’s just not who Fitz is.
“He’s too nice for his intentions to be malicious. I mean, hell, you’ve seen the guy—he’s always blushing, almost never talks, and he’s just… Well, he’s Fitz. He’s quiet and polite and just so…nice.”
“I know,” I say, nodding a few times. “He is all those things. But he also lied to me.”
“He did, and that was wrong, and you have every right to be mad at him, but…”
“But I don’t think he did it on purpose,” I finish for her. “I don’t think he set out to be deceitful.”
“Yeah, me either.”
That’s the hardest part of this. I know Fitz. Doing this…it’s not him. A part of me wishes I could say it is, could say he’s nothing but a jerk and doesn’t deserve my time…but I can’t say any of that because I don’t feel like it’s true.
“He’s been here every day,” she says. “Like every day. He comes in the mornings before practice. He just sits on one of the benches out there and waits for you. I tell him you’re not coming, but he doesn’t believe me. He just…waits. Then he comes back after practice and does the same thing. It’s been like that every day, and I’m sure the only reason he’s not here now is because they play in New York tonight, but tomorrow, he’ll be back. I guarantee it.”
I hate that my heart skips a beat with every word she utters. I hate that I love it that he’s shown up here, but I do. I do love it—so damn much.
“I should talk to him.”
“You should,” Stevie agrees. “Because I think if you two work this out, you could be something great together. I mean, you like being watched and he likes watching, so it works.” She waggles her brows and grins.
I smile back, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, unease settling into my belly.
“What’s wrong?”
I bite my bottom lip. “Am I… Is it weird that I like it? Being watched? That I liked it when he…when he just watched and got off on it?”
She’s shaking her head before I even get the entire question out. “No, not at all, but I understand how you feel, why you’d feel that way. I thought something was wrong with me and my…tastes too.”
My brows crush together. “Do you like being watched too?”
“No. I mean, I don’t hate it if it’s Greer, but it’s…other stuff. Greer is… He’s rough, you know? He’s commanding and he likes it that way. And I like it that way. I didn’t think I would after…” She trails off, her eyes dropping to the floor of the truck, but I know what—and who—she’s referring to. It’s her ex. “I didn’t think after the abuse I went through that it would be something I’d like, didn’t think I’d crave the roughness and him bossing me around, but I like it. I want to please him. I want him to tell me when I’m doing good for him, you know? It makes me feel good, powerful, like I’m taking back everything that was taken from me. I think it’s because even though I know Greer’s the one doing the bossing, I’m really the one in charge, and if I ever want it to stop, I only need to utter a single word and he’ll back off. I feel safe with him, comfortable.” She finally looks up at me. “Is that how Fitz makes you feel?”
Yes.
Not once during our time in the bathroom did I feel unsafe. It’s not that I ever feel unsafe on my streams or anything, but with Fitz it just felt…different. It felt right, like that’s how it’s supposed to be. Never mind that orgasm I had. It was easily the most intense of my life. I can’t remember ever getting so damn aroused by fingering myself, and I masturbate regularly.
“It is,” I tell her.
“Then don’t let it pass you by. Give him a chance to explain.”
I nod. “I will.”
“And if it makes you feel any better, my first sexual experience with Greer sucked too. Well, I mean technically I sucked, but still.”
“Stevie!” I admonish, and she laughs. “But seriously…what happened?”
She tells me about going down on him the first time and then him leaving immediately afterward.
“Wow. These hockey boys are idiots, huh?”
She nods. “You have no idea. But after he explained things, I understood. I mean, he’d never been with someone he actually cared about before. He had no clue how to act. And plus, he was worried about how I’d react to his roughness. He didn’t realize I was totally into it and would have been more than fine with the night continuing.”
“And now you two horndogs can’t keep your hands off each other, Miss Plays Find the Carrot in Front of the Entire Halloween Party.”
She buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god. I still can’t believe I did that. Drunk Stevie is a whole other version of me.”
I laugh because she’s not wrong. “It was fun. I’m sure everyone’s forgotten by now.”
She gives me a look that says I’m full of shit, and I don’t blame her. There is no way anybody is letting her live that down.
“All right,” she says, shoving up from the floor, then holding her hands out to me. “Come on. Up.” I let her tug me out of the chair. “Today, let’s focus on donuts. Tomorrow, we’ll fix your broken heart, deal?”
I nod. “Deal.”
So that’s what I do. I throw myself into work. I knead dough, I shape donuts and ice them, and I refill coffee, rinse and repeat for hours and hours.
And the entire time, I think about one thing: Fitz.
