“That, too,” she admits. “But I really am happy for you.”
“Thanks.” Since moving to River’s Edge, I’ve felt…lost. Lacking direction, and like I don’t belong. Having this fall into place is the first thing that’s felt right. Maybe I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I tap out a quick text to Dylan, telling him to meet me at Blackbear tonight so I can deliver the good news in person, then Halston drops me off at work. When I show up, Jake, Grumpy Pete, and a couple of other servers are here, but Jesse’s noticeably absent. The first part of my shift goes by quickly. I’m on autopilot, thinking of everything from the flyers I want to design to the best way to get the word out.
I’m coming out of the bathroom when a hand darts out, pulling me into the back room. “Whoa,” I squeal before I’m pulled into Jesse’s chest.
“Hi,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting on my lower back.
“Hi,” I breathe, my neck straining in order to meet his eyes.
“We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation earlier.”
“I don’t think now is the time,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we don’t have an audience, my heart kicking up in speed at the tone of his voice.
“Why not?” He bends down to squeeze my ass in his palms.
“Someone could walk in.”
“That’s half the fun,” he says, one of his hands dipping into the gap in my waistband before curling around the curve of my butt cheek.
I sag into him, my pulse quickening. He takes the opportunity to kiss me, and I open for him, allowing his tongue to brush against mine. Suddenly, his hands are gripping my waist as he sits in one of the chairs, pulling me to straddle him, never breaking the connection.
My hands find his face, allowing myself to get lost in the kiss, unable to resist the pull. Something about Jesse makes all of my common sense fly out the window. He smooths his hands up my back as I grind on his lap, his need evident beneath me.
Mustering every ounce of self-control, I pull back, breathless. “We have to stop.” I clumsily climb off his lap before wiping the corners of my lips and straightening my clothes.
Jesse gives me a lazy smirk, his eyes promising that this isn’t over. I hurry back, avoiding eye contact with everyone I pass, afraid my flustered expression will give me away. When I reach my section, I find Dylan and the guys sitting there.
“Hi,” I say, smiling.
Hunter stands to hug me, then pulls back, gripping me by the shoulders. “Why are you all flushed and shit? Are you sick?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m just excited.” Dylan’s gaze fixes on something behind me, and I look back to find Jesse standing near the bar, watching us with an unreadable expression.
“I bet you are,” Dylan remarks, eyeing Jesse with contempt. Ignoring him, I walk over to hug Caleb.
“I only have a minute,” I start, “but I heard from Victor. He asked me to plan a show for next Friday, so naturally…”
“Naturally, you thought of the most talented fuckers you know,” Hunter supplies.
“Yes. That.” I laugh. “You in?”
“Just name the time and place, baby,” Hunter quips.
“I’m in,” Caleb agrees.
My smile slips when I see Dylan’s expression. He’s not the most expressive person I’ve ever met, but I expected some degree of… I don’t know, happiness? Instead, he’s absently spinning a butter knife on the tabletop, seemingly lost in thought. “Dylan?” I prompt when he doesn’t say anything.
His gaze snaps to mine. “Sounds good, Al. Thanks.”
“If you don’t want to, I could get someone else,” I offer, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone. I guess I could ask Garrett. “I thought you’d be excited.”
“No.” Dylan shakes his head. “No, this is great.” He stands, his palm flattening on the side of my head before he leans down to press a kiss to my cheek. “I’ve gotta go. Call me tomorrow. We can talk about the setlist.”
I catch his hand when he tries to leave. He pauses, troubled brown eyes meeting mine as he chews on his lip ring. I move in closer, lowering my voice. “Is everything okay?”
He gives me a forced half-smile that’s meant to be comforting but feels anything but, and with a clipped nod, he’s gone.
“He’s been in a weird mood all day,” Caleb says, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
“Yeah,” Hunter agrees, looping an arm around my shoulders. “It’s not about you. You’re the fucking best for this.”
“Make sure he’s okay,” I say.
Hunter nods before they leave to catch up with Dylan. I make a mental note to be a better friend to Dylan. I’ve been so wrapped up in school, work, and Jesse, that I haven’t noticed that he’s clearly going through something. I try to piece together everything I know about him. I know he’s originally from the Eastern Shore. I’ve gathered from some of the things that he’s said in the past that he’s had some family drama, but he’s so tight-lipped. Getting Dylan to open up is like pulling teeth. Not that I’m much more forthcoming. It’s probably part of why we get along so well, if I’m being honest. I don’t like talking about my shit, and neither does he.
He knows my story, though, and that’s the difference. I know Dylan. I know all his favorite songs, and that he hates the smell of ketchup with the passion of a thousand burning suns, and that he secretly prefers acoustic to electric. But I don’t know his past, or what made him the way he is.
“Allison,” Jake shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts. I whip around to find him pointing at a couple who just sat down in my section.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, then paste a smile on my face before heading over to take their order.
Jesse stayed, bussing tables when he felt like it, but other than that, he sat in a booth, watching me all night. I felt his eyes on me like a second skin the entire time. It wasn’t until my shift was over that I remembered Lo wasn’t around to give me a ride home, and I didn’t make other arrangements.
Naturally, Jesse swooped in the moment he saw the realization set in. I stood in the hall next to the back room, sucker in mouth, backpack on my shoulder. He gave me a crooked smile, dangling his keys. “Need a ride?”
Surprisingly enough, he was quiet on the ride home. He kept checking his phone and tapping the steering wheel with his thumb in an agitated gesture. I wanted to ask him about it, but everything is so…undefined.
Once we pulled into the driveaway, the house was noticeably dark. Jesse cut the engine and neither one of us made a move to get out, the fact that we were alone for a week hanging between us. Jesse reached over, popping the sucker out of my mouth without a word, before sticking it between his own lips.
“I’m going to shower,” I said, feeling for the door handle, before I thanked him for the ride. I bolted up the stairs, needing to both put some distance between us and take a much-needed shower.
Which brings me to now, the scalding water beating down on me, and it feels so good that I don’t think I’ll ever leave. All day, I walked around with Jesse’s scent on my skin, serving as a constant reminder of what we did last night. I stay in the shower long after all evidence of our indiscretion has washed away, until the water runs cold. I step out and wrap my towel around myself, my skin flushed and overheated, my body suddenly feeling heavy and exhausted. When I open the door to my room, I’m almost surprised Jesse isn’t here waiting for me.
I reach for another baggy T-shirt to sleep in, but then I second-guess my decision. What if Jesse comes in later? No. Screw that train of thought. If he can’t handle me in my borderline homeless attire, he doesn’t deserve what’s underneath. I pull the shirt on over my head, throwing on a pair of boy shorts underneath, then head back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. As I’m brushing my teeth, I pause at the sound of Jesse’s muffled voice coming from his room. I turn the faucet off and lean in toward his door, quiet as a mouse.
“I told you last time. I’m
out.” His voice is sharp and angry, brooking no argument, but the person on the other end of the phone obviously doesn’t take the hint. “I don’t give a shit about that,” he snaps. There’s another pause before he speaks again. “Lose my number.” It’s quiet for long seconds again, so I assume he ended the call.
What the hell was that about?
The doorknob turning has me jumping away from the door, heart pounding, toothbrush still in my mouth. Jesse stops short when he sees me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Nothing.” He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, turning for the toilet. A second later, I hear him emptying his bladder as I’m rinsing my mouth with water.
“Ever heard of boundaries?” I ask, scrunching my nose, reaching for a towel to dry my face.
“I know what your pussy tastes like—the answer is fucking delicious, by the way. I think boundaries are a thing of the past with us.”
I shake my head, turning toward him with a witty retort on the tip of my tongue, but his open door allows me a glimpse into his room and the words die on my lips. A duffle bag sits in the middle of his floor, but there’s not much else. Still nowhere to sleep. The sight suddenly has me feeling guilty for stealing his bed. Sure, he has the couch, but that can’t be comfortable, especially for more than a night or two. I’m the interloper. I should be the one sleeping in the living room.
“I can take the couch tonight,” I say, taking him by surprise. Jesse chuckles, looking over his shoulder at the empty space before shutting the door.
“You getting soft on me, Allie Girl? Trust me. I’ve had worse living arrangements.”
I cock my head to the side, regarding him. Another little glimpse into his life.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snaps, but the words sound contrived. Defensive, but holding little heat.
I shrug, playing it off. “Suit yourself.”
He turns for his door, and I turn for mine, shutting it behind me. I crawl into my bed, not even having a chance to reach for my headphones before Jesse appears again.
“What are you doing?” I ask, eying the laptop in his hands.
“Movie?”
I narrow my eyes at him, debating. “Okay.”
Jesse moves my bedside table, then angles the laptop so we can both see it. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Nothing sad,” I answer. He clicks around, settling on a movie before climbing into bed with me. I’m still sitting, nerves percolating in my stomach, but Jesse opts for a more comfortable position, lying on his side behind me.
“Relax, Allie.”
I nod in response. The opening credits for Zombieland play on the laptop screen, and it breaks the tension I’m feeling. I laugh softly, moving onto my stomach. My knees are bent, feet crossed in the air, my chin resting on my folded arms. My goal when choosing this position was to put more space between us, but that was a mistake because now, all I’m doing is wondering if he can see up my shorts.
Fighting the urge to look behind me, I focus my attention on the movie. Jesse is on his best behavior for the first half, but about forty-five minutes in, he sits up against the headboard before his hand circles one of my ankles, tugging me toward him. I shift closer until he pulls me into him, my back to his chest.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as his arm bands around me, his palm coming to rest on my stomach.
“Touching you,” he says, his voice thick from not speaking.
“Why?” My stomach tightens, my pulse quickening.
“Because I like it.”
Okay, then.
After overanalyzing his actions and motives for a solid twenty minutes, I eventually start to relax. Jesse’s warmth and his scent work together at making me feel all sleepy and content.
I jerk awake in the dark room, feeling overheated and clammy. Sitting up, I rub my eyes as consciousness creeps back in.
Dad.
The dream felt so real. He was playing his guitar, his hair a little too long and a little too greasy. But he looked happy. Only, when I walked toward him, the distance between us seemed to stretch farther. I started to panic and tried to run toward him, but it felt like I was moving in slow motion against a thousand pounds of water holding me back. My dad was oblivious, still smiling and singing along to his song, but I couldn’t hear him. And when I tried to scream, nothing came out.
I bring a hand to my chest to calm my racing heart, batting away a single tear that rolls down my cheek with the other.
“That happen a lot?” Jesse’s deep, sleep-thick voice rumbles from behind me, startling me.
I shake my head. “Hasn’t for months.” I feel him shifting behind me and look over my shoulder in time to see him turn onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head.
“What’s it about?”
I bring my knees up, resting my chin on top of them as I debate how much information I want to divulge. I’m feeling raw and split open, my grief a living, palpable thing in this moment. Both the dark room and the fact that I’m not facing him give me enough anonymity to speak.
“My dad,” I finally say. Jesse stays silent. Whether it’s not knowing what to say or sensing that I need a minute to wade through my thoughts, I’m not sure. “The accident was almost a year ago.” The words still feel wrong, even after all these months. “I used to dream about him all the time at first. The anniversary is coming up. Maybe that has something to do with it,” I muse, more to myself than him. It’s hard to believe the world has existed for almost three hundred and sixty-five days without him. “Sometimes I think the nightmares are better than not seeing him at all.”
“That’s fucked up,” Jess remarks, and I huff out a humorless laugh.
“We’re all a little fucked up.”
“That’s an understatement,” he agrees bitterly.
Turning around, I sit cross-legged on the bed. “Tell me yours?”
“My what?”
“Your fuckedupness. I need a distraction,” I whisper. I don’t want to think about my dad right now. I can see enough to make out his hand pushing through his hair as he blows out a breath.
“What do you want to know?” he grumbles. “My list is longer than most.”
“Let’s start with something simple. Where are your parents?”
“Fuck if I know.” He laughs. “Lo and I moved out here to live with our dad a couple of years ago. Turns out, Henry wasn’t even our dad.”
“What?” I did not see that coming.
“Yup,” he says matter-of-factly. “Poor bastard didn’t know it either. My mom won’t tell us who the real sperm donor is. Lo thinks she’s just being a bitch, but I’d bet money that she doesn’t even know.”
“Where is she?”
“Probably passed out in an alley somewhere in Oakland.”
“Shit,” I breathe. “That is fucked up.”
“It’s not even the tip of the iceberg.”
“What about Henry?” I ask, hoping there’s something good in this story. Jess looks over at me, confusion painting his features.
“What about him?”
“I don’t know anything about being a parent, but I don’t think all those years just vanish because you’re not blood-related.”
“Clearly, you don’t know my family. He’s off the hook.” He jerks a shoulder. “Guilt made him attempt to stay in touch, but I did him a favor and cut it off.”
I frown. “Maybe it was hard for him, too. Maybe he wants to be in your life.”
“Maybe we’re done talking about me,” he says, abruptly reaching for me before pulling me down the bed and rolling on top of me in one swift motion. “Where’s your mom?”
“Ugh,” I groan. “That’s not the type of distraction I need right now.”
He shifts his hips into mine, and I realize he’s only in his boxers. He must have ditched his jeans when I was asleep. “What kind of distraction do you need, Allie?”
I know he’s
trying to change the subject, but I give in, needing the same thing. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to speak. I want to feel.
“Halston says we need rules.”
“You told Halston about us?” he asks with an arched brow.
“Not really. But she said rules are crucial when it comes to this sort of thing…” I trail off, the words sounding stupid when I say them out loud.
“Oh yeah? How’s that working out for her and Sully?”
“Good point.” I laugh.
“I’m not much of a rule follower,” he says, brushing a piece of hair off my forehead. “You got something in mind?”
I worry my lip, considering my words. “No lying.”
Jesse gives me a sharp nod. “Easy. Done.” He kisses my neck, and I arch to give him better access. Goosebumps break across my skin from my neck down to my arm and Jesse’s finger follows their path.
“And I want a clean break,” I blurt out. He cocks his head to the side, waiting for me to elaborate. “We’re just having fun. If one of us wants out, we end it. No hard feelings. No questions asked.” I don’t want to lose my friendship with Lo, my job, or anything else if this thing goes south. When. When it goes south, I remind myself.
“Deal,” he finally says. I squeeze his hand in the small space between our bodies to shake on it, but he looks at it with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t I get to make any rules?”
I drop my hand back to the mattress. “By all means…”
“No hooking up with other people.”
“We’ve already established that. Anything else?”
He cocks his head to the side, pretending to consider it. “Nope. I think that about covers it.”
He flexes his hips into me, and I close my eyes, loving the way it feels. “Jess,” I breathe, trying—and failing—to keep from squirming. He leans in, his lips close to my ear.
“Do you want me to make you feel good?” His teeth clamp around my earlobe and tug. I nod in response as he brings a hand down to stroke me on the outside of my boy shorts, applying the faintest amount of pressure. “Say it, Allie.”
I stay silent, pushing back on him in response. A single finger slides along my crease, but he doesn’t give me more than that. Lust trumps pride when he touches me like this. “Make me feel good,” I whisper. “Please.”
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