Jesse
Page 15
Not another word passes my lips as I let myself out of his room, the last thing I hear before I run out of the apartment the slam of his door, so loud it makes my ears ring.
Running down the steps, with the voice of one of Jesse’s roommates chasing after me, asking me what happened, I put as much distance between us as possible.
I knew from the start this boy would make me cry—hey, I’m shy, not stupid—but I never thought it was going to be so soon, or that it would hurt so much.
***
“Here you go,” Kayla says, turning my laptop to face me. “Doesn’t it look awesome?”
She’s showing me my brand new website, Amber’s Gems, open on the page of the bracelets, featuring a few of the photos I took of my jewelry.
I nod, my mind elsewhere. I’ve seen the website, obsessed over every detail of it, in fact, since Tyler Devlin set it up for me, insisting he wanted no money from me. I tried telling him I’m not family—not one of the Inked Brotherhood and Co. or the Damage Boyz, but he smiled a secret smile and told me I’d soon be.
I wonder what he sees that I don’t. I mean, I thought the psychic was Kayla, certainly not the tall, dark and brooding brother of Asher.
My few friends from Chicago saw the link to the website I posted all over the social media and went nuts. They promised to order stuff, and seeing their excitement is nice.
And that’s all very well, but it’s not what’s been on my mind.
Jesse. Still processing what happened in his room, from his heated gaze on me, then his hands and mouth, his sure touch and the blinding pleasure—then my questions and his angry words. His angry, truthful words.
“Go back to your pretty world and leave me in mine.”
Those words twist in my heart like knives. I may be naïve, but I know hurt when I see it. He was angry, but underneath there was pain. A lot of pain, and now I know why. I can hardly begin to comprehend the trauma he’s been through, the helplessness, the lack of security and affection.
I wish I knew how to help him. My questions only serve to hurt him more, it seems, and his pain returns, hurting me, too.
Not good. Not good at all. Then why am I ready to chuck my jewelry box to the floor, walk out my door and go find him?
“…and here you should totally put a pic of you wearing some of your jewelry,” Ev is saying, tapping on the laptop screen with her finger. “Amber, have you heard a word I’ve said? I swear, you’re bobbing your head like that Chinese good luck cat that waves her paw at people.”
“Chinese good luck cat that waves her paw at people?” Kayla blinks.
“You know. They have them in Asian restaurants.” Ev waves a hand, her gaze glued on me, questioning. “Where did you go, Amber? Talk to us, girl.”
“I bet she’s boy-dreaming,” Kayla says, and oh God, heat works its way up my neck, a wave of fire under my skin. “Ha, she is! Would you look at that blush.”
No way to hide. Crap.
“Don’t tell me it’s Jesse again,” Ev murmurs, leaning toward me, her face a picture of concern. My blush deepens, scorching my skin, and tears burn my eyes. “Amber…”
“I know.” I put down my jewelry box, suddenly afraid I’ll drop it as a big shudder goes through me. “You warned me.”
“Shit, what did he do to you?” Ev scoots over the carpet and curls an arm around my shoulders, the flowery scent of her shampoo wrapping around me like a veil. “Bastard. He treats girls like his playthings, and I’m—”
“He didn’t.” I suck in a deep breath. “Didn’t do anything. We disagreed on something, that’s all.”
“Yeah, right.” Ev looks shocked, and Kayla unconvinced.
I should have expected that.
“Disagreed on him sleeping with you and dumping you the next day, sort of thing?” Kayla drawls.
I wince inwardly. “We haven’t slept together.”
“Technicalities.” She waves a hand back and forth. “Going down on each other, doing it on the kitchen counter, on the carpet, in the car… It counts.”
“We didn’t.” I turn and find Ev giving me an incredulous look. “What? It’s the truth.”
“Am I to believe you and Jesse have been meeting—because I know you have, his roommate Gage told me—and haven’t had hot bunny sex?”
I shrug. “Believe what you like. It’s the truth.”
“No sex, no kissing, no blowjobs, nada?”
I bite my lip and shift away from Ev, needing some space. “We kissed. Twice. And he did… touch me. But that was all. I never touched him.”
Not that way, anyway. And I wanted to, so much.
I’m vaguely aware of Kayla and Ev exchanging glances and lifting their brows.
“That’s … very unlike Jesse Lee,” Ev finally says, and I can’t even begin to guess what she’s thinking.
What does it matter? In any case, whatever it was we had—friendship? Was it that?—is over.
“I know what we need,” Kayla says brightly and jumps to her feet. “Girls’ night!”
“Didn’t know we needed something,” I grumble. The last thing I need is anything involving a social activity. “I’m fine.”
“Wait and see.” She runs out of my room to hers and returns with a pink kit. She plops back on my carpet and opens it, taking out a bunch of nail polish in all possible hues, even some I never imagined on my nails. “First, nail painting.”
“But why?” I whine as Ev claps her hands and starts sorting through the colors. “Why do we need this?”
Truth is, I’d rather curl up on the sofa with chocolate ice cream and watch reruns of Teen Wolf episodes.
“War paint,” Kayla declares, selecting a blue polish with tiny silver bits, like starbursts. “We’re taking on the world.”
“All I want is to forget about the world.” Despite myself, though, I lean forward and snag a red-purple polish. “Not take it on.”
“And then,” Kayla goes on as if I haven’t spoken, “we’ll dress up and go out.”
“No way.” I shake my bottle at her. “I hate going out, and you know it. It’s the last thing I’d do.” I glance at Ev for support. “Tell her.”
I sound like a three-year-old, and I honestly don’t care. I don’t deal well with stress, and I’ve had enough shit these past few days to last me a year.
“We could go to the movies,” Ev says, and even as I open my mouth to say no, I reconsider. “Nothing tear-inducing, I promise. We’ll find a comedy.”
“And for that we need to paint our nails?” I give my polish a suspicious look.
“Trust me, girl.” Kayla shakes hers before she starts painting her toenails. “It’s important. I saw it in the tea leaves this morning.”
Well then, if it was in the tea leaves… Looks like it was inevitable.
***
After a couple of hours wasted on applying nail polish and dressing each other in crazy clothes—Kayla’s, of course—and eating ice-cream straight from the carton, we stumble out of the apartment and make the twenty minute walk to the nearest movie theater. The comedy Ev chose isn’t bad, either, and after laughing for an hour like a loon, I feel much better.
Well enough to forget about Jesse for a while, forget how I’d rather be spending time with him instead of watching a stupid movie about a millionaire who is in fact a secret agent in his spare time.
Can’t help thinking of Jesse as a kid, forced to whore himself in order to live, and feel sick. Who cares about secret agents and millionaires when there are children on the streets with nobody to care for them?
It makes my heart ache for them. For him.
“Coming, Amber?” Kayla is tugging on my arm as we walk out of the movie theater.
“Where?”
She rolls her eyes with a small huff. “We’re going to Halo. Where all the guys will be.”
Ev says nothing, but I can see how much she wants to go. Micah will be there, for sure.
“You go.” I give them my brightest, sincerest smile. “I
had a great evening, honestly. I’ll just head home. I’m tired.”
Ev hesitates, but Kayla is already dragging her away.
“She’ll be okay, Ev.” She tugs on Ev’s arm. “I have a good feeling about this. Come on.”
“Good feeling about her going home alone?” Ev still turns to look at me. “Are you sure, Amber?”
“I’ll be perfectly okay.” I blow them a raspberry and start walking away from them to end the awkward moment. “Go have fun and tell me about it tomorrow.”
I walk briskly toward the apartment, my hands in the pockets of my short jeans skirt, my purse bouncing against my side. My toe nails wink at me from my leather sandals, purple-red, and I shake my head and grin. Kayla and her girls’ night…
Definitely not what I expected. I had fun. I can have fun without changing who I am… like Jesse said. No need to suddenly turn into an extrovert, much less a party animal, to be happy.
Am I happy? Not sure. Also not sure why the question makes me think of Jesse—again. He’s in my every thought.
And then he’s right there, right in front of me, sitting on the steps of a random building.
Am I seeing things? I stop in my tracks, my breath caught in my chest. It has to be around midnight. Is it really him?
I take a few steps closer, until I’m standing at the entrance of the building. He’s curled up on the dirty steps, arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing his baseball cap backward, and his head is tipped to the side, resting on the wall.
It is him. His dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he rests, his chest rising and falling evenly.
He’s asleep. On the steps of a building. It’s like a weird déjà vu—not from my memories, but from his.
“Jesse.” I lean over and shake him. “JJ!”
He starts awake, sitting up, and I see a darkening bruise on his jaw. What happened here?
“Are you all right?” I ask, and he blinks, looking confused. “Come on.” I grab his hand and pull. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jesse
“Let’s go home.”
In my dream I’m sitting in a back alley behind a restaurant, waiting for Helen, curled up on the step. Fear runs through me like a current, tension and exhaustion born of uncertainty about tomorrow. Where will I end up? Will I be safe? Will I have money? Where will I sleep?
Will she be okay?
Then I’m blinking, and there’s Amber. Amber… Her face doesn’t fit in with my memories, and yet seeing her calms me down and wraps a warm band around my chest.
Still… Can’t recognize this place. The steps are all wrong, and what is she doing here? My brain’s muddled from sleep and I’m disoriented.
I should… Should be careful. Walk away. My jaw hurts, and my ribs smart. Not a good sign, and it’s the kind of pain my nightmares feed on. It’s probably why I have so much trouble getting my brain to let go of the dream.
But her hand is on my arm, fingertips digging lightly into my muscle, and I let her pull me to my feet, bracing my other hand on the wall. The street lights blind me as I stagger down the steps, following her onto the street. The headlights of a passing car stab my eyeballs, and I curse under my breath.
“Why aren’t you sleeping in your bed?” she asks, her small hand slipping down to slide into mine, and I curl my fingers around it, a weight lifting off my chest—as if I’ve caught a lifeline in the storm.
“My bed.” My apartment. What the hell? I was back on the streets for a moment there. Kinda missed a whole year of my life. “I don’t…”
Memory returns in fits and starts, and I bite back a groan. Oh yeah, I remember now. Dammit.
She glances at me, probably waiting for an answer.
“Shit happened.” Real enlightening, J, very smooth.
“I thought you’d still be at work at this time.”
“Yeah, well, I left early. Had something I needed to do.”
“And did you?”
“Nope.” That’s the problem. Everything went wrong, every single damn thing, tonight of all nights. A night that’s bad by default.
Except for Amber finding me and putting her hand in mine. Yeah, that’s the only thing that gives me hope, though for what, I can’t imagine.
The rest of the way I turn the night’s events over and over in my head until it hurts like a mother, and I barely notice when she stops at a building entrance and unlocks.
That’s when I realize she hasn’t led me to my apartment, but to hers.
Thank fucking God.
“Have you eaten anything tonight?” she asks, and I take a moment to figure out she’s talking to me, too distracted by her scent and the warmth of her skin against mine as we go up the steps.
“Don’t think I have.” As a matter of fact, I can’t recall eating anything after a hurried breakfast. Had to leave early for the shop. Taking on Seth’s shift means I don’t go running as often as I’d like to, but hey, cleaning is a decent workout, I guess.
“Come on in.” She tugs her hand free of mine to open the apartment door, and I resist the urge to snatch it back.
“Kayla in?” I amble into her living room and switch on the lights. It’s tidy and clean and smells of some floral cleaner.
“She’s out.”
“Just you and me, then, kitten?” I flash her a grin when she turns to give me a look from where she’s hanging her purse on a hook behind the door.
“Cut it out, JJ.”
Still not taking my shit. I almost reel with relief. Back on solid ground after a night of spinning like a damn merry-go-round.
“I know.” I wink at her and lick my lips. “I’m a big dick.”
Doesn’t stop a flush from rising to her cheeks, and I grin wider.
Gotcha.
I love getting under her skin. Fuck, I love getting skin-to-skin with her even better, but after our last encounter and the way it ended… Because of my knee-jerk reaction to anything having to do with Helen and my past.
“I wouldn’t know the size of your dick,” she deadpans, slipping off her sandals and padding quietly across the room to close the curtains on the two windows facing the street below. “But from your need to talk about it constantly, I’d guess it’s very small.”
“What?” I sputter and cup my crotch protectively. “This is small? Who the hell said that?”
“So you’re big. Just how big are you?”
I gape at her, even as my dick starts getting interested in the proceedings, hardening against my palm. “Big.” I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with her, with Amber. My gaze strays to the swell of her tits under her tight, green top and my dick jumps under my hand, making me hiss. “Big enough.”
“We’ll see about that.” She winks at me heading to the kitchen, and I choke on my inhale.
What the fuck just happened?
What happened is I walked right into that one. Shit, that’s a first. This girl’s messing with my head, throwing my teasing back at me.
That’s a first, and damn if I don’t like it.
***
“Is it good?” She pushes a glass of juice toward me as I inhale the last of the spicy tuna rolls she put in front of me less than a minute earlier.
“Terrible,” I say with my mouth full and lick hot sauce off my fingers. “A health hazard. I think you’re trying to poison me.”
She giggles, but then her eyes focus on my finger-licking and widen a little before she turns away.
“I’ll let Kayla know how much you hated her rolls,” she says.
“Oh, she made them?” I could have eaten another ten of the tiny things, but I gulp down the juice instead. “They’re really good. Maybe she could show me how to make them one day.”
“You want to learn how to cook?”
I put my glass down, shrug. “Yeah. Is it weird? I’ve watched Mel at the taco stand, but I can’t eat tacos every night.”
She blinks at me, looking confused. “Can’t you cook somethin
g else?”
“If I knew, I would.” Now my belly’s full, my eyelids are drooping. I stifle a yawn. “It’s strange, having a kitchen, you know, where you can store food and cook and stuff. On the street you just grab what’s cheap and ready.”
Her face falls, and yeah, I’ve shoved her into the shitty reality of my past again. I keep forgetting most people have no clue what that’s like.
Not sure whether I should say I’m sorry for speaking out or cut my losses and shut up.
But then she says, “I’m sorry.”
What is she sorry for?
“Well, I’m not. Having a kitchen is damn cool, let me tell you that.”
She huffs a little laugh and pushes at my shoulder with her hand. “Shut up. You know what I mean.” When I stare at her, lost, she swallows hard and sits back down across from me. “I’m sorry you had to live like that before. It makes me sad.”
I hate pity. All my life I’ve fought it. I’m a proud person, although I’ve had to crack down on my pride quite a few times to avoid checking out of this world. Still… I’m glad she’s not pitying me, because otherwise I’d be out the door already.
And thinking she’s sad on my behalf sends those bands of warmth tightening around my chest until I can hardly breathe.
“Today…” I turn the cool glass in my hands, making it squeak on the table. “Today’s Helen’s birthday.”
I have no clue why I’m telling her this, sitting at the little table in her bright kitchen, spilling my guts out. I haven’t talked about Helen since the day she vanished. What’s wrong with me?
And worse still, why can’t I seem able to fucking stop?
“I always toast her with a shot of brandy on her birthday. She liked the stuff. I save a bottle in my room for special occasions.” I force my hands to still on top of the table. “I asked Mel to let me leave early. Not because of Helen, just…”
My fists are so tight my nails bite into the flesh of my palm, and yet I can’t feel any pain. Numb.
“What happened?” Her hands slide over mine like cool water, covering my fists, until I relax them and let my hands lie flat on the table. “When you got home?”
“Things went to hell before that.” I draw a breath and find myself trembling, so I pull away my hands and let them fall on my thighs. “On the way, I met Jason. He’s a hooker, still works the streets. He’s the one who found me that night when I was attacked, three years ago.”