Page 113 of Sparks and Recreation

“This was better.”

I scrunch up my nose. “We didn’t even leave the house.”

“Exactly.” He looks at me. “No pressure. No performance. Just … this. Us.”

“My grandmother hijacked our evening.”

“I liked it.”

“You fixed half her house.”

“I wanted to.” His fingers brush my shoulder—casual, natural.

I have the urge to rest my head in the crook of his arm and chest.

He says, “Besides, now I have a good excuse to skip poker night.”

I wince. “Not a fan of betting?”

He goes still and instead of the air leaving the planet, oxygen seems to feed the flames between us.

“Patton—” I start.

“Winnie—” he says at the same time.

We stop. Stare at each other.

“You first,” I say.

“No, you.”

“I insist.”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I just meant that betting isn’t my thing. Cards, sure. But putting money on things feels wrong.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It does.”

Another loaded silence.

I should tell him about Operation Make Maverick Smile and how stupid I’ve been. But the words remain locked behind my lips. Needing something to hold on to, I catch his hand.

Voice a whisper, I say, “Patton. What are we doing?”

He looks at our joined hands, then at me. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to stop.”

“Me neither.”

“Good.” He squeezes my fingers. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

I sure hope so.

31

WINNIE

After Patton leaves,I’m left sitting on the porch, heart full and guilty conscience overflowing. I have the sinking feeling this isn’t something that’ll easily be fixed, especially since I’ve had the opportunity to tell him about the bet, but can’t bring myself to do it. I fear that it’ll ruin everything. A dismal thought crawls out of the darkness. Does that mean what we have is fragile? Likely to break at the slightest problem?

Later, lying in bed, my phone buzzes.