Called Up by Jen Doyle

she glared at something through the windshield.
    Probably not the best time to discuss his chemistry theory.
    Climbing up into the cab himself, Deke did his best not to think about the last time they sat here together. With intense concentration, he shifted the truck into gear and headed off without a word.
    “You were awesome, by the way,” she said after a few minutes.
    He was awesome in a lot of ways, many of which he’d be more than happy to demonstrate for her. Since she was clearly angry, he thought he’d keep that part to himself. It did, however, raise the question, “That pisses you off because...?”
    With a snort, she uncrossed her arms and turned so she was now glaring out the side window. “It’s not you. I just...” Then she huffed and threw her hands up in the air. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I swear, if Nate gives me one more of those ‘Is she okay?’ looks, I might actually kill him.”
    Oh. Okay, then. Better than her being angry at him, but honestly, Deke was on Nate’s side no matter what Fitz said. He kept quiet on that, too.
    “I mean, there was a reason I didn’t tell anyone, you know? It’s bad enough I’m Inspiration’s favorite tragedy...”
    Were they back to the pity thing?
    “Nate knows I wasn’t...” Her voice trailed off as she visibly shook off what he assumed was the word raped . Because that’s sure as hell where his head went. The only good side of all of this was that she clearly had not had that experience. But, Jesus. The idea of them even...
    “They didn’t even touch me, for Heaven’s sake.”
    Right. Plus Deke pretty much loved the idea of Fitz putting them down like dogs. That part in itself brought a smile to his face.
    Which froze when her hand went to his knee and she squeezed.
    He almost swerved off the fucking road.
    “I mean, I don’t think they were even trying. They were...” Her voice trailed off as she realized where her hand was and pulled it away. Of course, that essentially meant she dragged it over his thigh.
    Holy. Fucking. Hell.
    “They were making fun of me, Deke.”
    “What? Who?” he asked, attempting to participate in the conversation as he clutched the steering wheel even harder.
    “Although the freaking jerks did rip my favorite jeans,” she muttered.
    Christ.
    “But I was like, well, I don’t know what I was like. One of those whirling dervish kind of things.” Then she laughed. “I’m pretty sure I kicked one of them directly in the junk. And Nate said they were all already bleeding by the time he got there.”
    Damn it. “Fitz—”
    “Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t give me that ‘poor Fitz’ look. That’s the whole reason I’m riding with you and not Nate. Okay? I mean, for Heaven’s sake...” She turned her head away. “You’re the last person I want to be alone with right now.”
    “Gee, thanks,” he muttered. “Love you, too, Fitz.”
    The air went still as they both realized what he’d just said.
    “I know,” she said a good five minutes later, so softly that his head came up just to be sure she’d truly said something and he wasn’t just imagining it. “That’s the problem.” She reached out to where his hand covered the gearstick and, after hovering there for the most tantalizing of moments, slowly lowered her fingers to his and squeezed. He jerked his head back up to look at the road, trying not to give in to the sudden and desperate desire to pull over to the shoulder.
    “Because I do love you,” she continued, and he was pretty sure if he looked up at her again he’d see tears in her eyes. He could handle a lot of things. Seeing Fitz cry wasn’t one of them. “You’re one of my best friends in the world. We can’t mess with that, you know? I need you.”
    His jaw clenched, he turned onto the street that connected with Lola’s. Thank fuck.
    Then she squeezed— again —and the sensation went directly to his dick. Almost as if that’s where her hand actually