Page 100 of Go Find Less
Fitz had stepped out of a meeting, likely one that included his father and maybe his sister, to speak to me.
“Piper?” I realize I haven’t responded, and shake my head to clear my comparison.
“I’ll show you how excited I am next time I see you.”
“Damn it, Piper.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, and I laugh.
“Go back to your meeting, I’ll talk to you later.” And before he can try to coax anything else out of me, which will likely result in nothing less than a raging hard on, I hang up, setting my phone and the invite next to me on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.
Fuck. Fitz Westfall, the romantic.
Chapter 38
Fitz
“Oh,comeon!”Piperscreams at the TV, and if I didn’t know that Mateo was alive and well across town, I would have sworn she was channeling his spirit. Completely pissed, face contorted, fistful of M&Ms halfway to her mouth. This was how he typically looked watching college ball in this room. I was not expecting the same reaction from this woman watching the latest Jennifer Lawrence horror movie.
I try to hide my surprised laugh in a cough, but the side-eye she gives me tells me it absolutely didn’t work, so I just reach for the bag in her lap and pull out my own handful of candy.
I’d given myself more flack than I probably needed for asking her to hang out tonight - so soon after our last get together, and not even a full week to digest everything properly. But I don’t feel like I need it, need a breather, from her, from this.
I’d half expected her to suggest we go out and do something like couples do on Friday nights. Bowling. Movies. Couples? I’d swallowed a little hard at the thought. We weren’t there yet, as much as it already felt like it to me.
But Piper’s text after lunch had been “going to a 6:30 meeting and then heading your way. Pls have snacks. Bad, bad day.”
So, my first quest was wracking my brain trying to remember what all had been on her nightstand that first time I went over to her house. The second had been to see what horror movies were available for streaming - or purchase, because my gut told me she may have seen all of the streaming options already.
“Questi fottuti idioti.” She says it under her breath, just loud enough that I can hear, and I give her hip a squeeze where my hand holds her firmly to my side. Her eyes break away from the wall just enough to give me a wry smile. “Just because you can’t speak Italian doesn’t mean I can’t use it around you.”
“I think that’s exactly what it means,” I counter, “but I know enough Spanish and French to know whatfottuti idiotimeans, and I agree. Fucking idiots.” She nods her head in agreement, and watches the screen, but every once in a while, I catch her looking in my direction. I don’t let on - just run my thumb in smooth circles on the skin where her oversized sweatshirt meets the leggings that were so tight, they looked painted on when she stood in my doorway with Bex in one arm and her purse in the other. She’d changed out bags again - this one is a bright yellow on par with some of the ones Frannie sports. Equally as gigantic, too.
By the time the movie ends in a blood-curdling scream, Piper’s halfway leaning in front of me, with my chin resting on the top of her head. Bex has curled herself between us under the blanket and Roscoe is under our feet.
“Do you want to talk about why today was such a bad day?” I ask, not moving as the previews for another movie start to play in front of us. I run my free hand up and down the side of her arm, and she shivers in a way that makes the rest of my body immediately react.
Not the time, man.
Piper’s long sigh has me chewing the inside of my cheek. “Just work stuff.”
“Same stuff as it has been, or?” She leans back, making eye contact with me, and I see the confusion in her face. “You mentioned the other night that your boss doesn’t totally understand your work.”
“Oh, right.” Piper shifts until she’s facing me, leaning her body against the back of the couch and propping her head up on an elbow. “Brianna is just…” She shakes her head, closing her eyes for a moment. Bex burrows out from her spot, clearly not happy with the movement, and Piper absently strokes her head when she opens her eyes again. “It’s hard to try to tone myself down when I’ve spent so long trying to figure out who I am.”
“And who is that?” She absently wipes at her nose - free of makeup, but still a fucking knockout with her dark curls wild around her neck, the top half pulled back.
“Piper 5.0,” she says with a shrug. I feel my eyebrows knit together.
“Not even a 2? Just jumping straight into 5?” She laughs, the first time I’ve heard her do so since last weekend, and it makes my stomach jolt a little bit.
“There have been a lot of different iterations of Piper,” she says simply, and then reaches out to pull my hand back to her hip. Without questioning, I start the circles on her soft skin again. “1.0 was the Piper you met first. 2.0 is post-junior year and all the shit with Andy.” I try to hide my cringe by turning my face toward Bex between us. “3.0 is college and Mickey’s Piper.”
“What was she like?” I ask, and Piper pauses, her eyes flitting down to where my hand connects with her skin. We’ve managed to stay clothed, but the way her big eyes keep looking at me like I’m a steak and she’s a woman starved tells me she’s having the same thoughts I am.
“A party girl.” Piper shrugs. “I was everyone’s friend, but not really anyone’s favorite. I was the designated driver and the one who brought all the hot girls with her.” She stops herself, like she was going to continue down a path that I suspected may have been self-deprecating, but she catches it.Good. “And then I met Mickey.”
Ok.Not so good.
“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” she says softly, and I meet her gaze, which is apologetic. I shake my head.