Page 116 of Jesse's Girl

We fall into step together and head down the block toward the bike. For a minute, maybe two, we walk in silence.

“Listen,” I say eventually, glancing at her sidelong. “I know we didn’t really get to talk about the whole art school thing before coming here.”

“Right,” she says, sounding uneasy.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like I was pushing it on you. I didn’t mean—I don’t mean to act like I know what’s best for you. I only wanna encourage you. You’ve got this talent, and I hope you can find a way to…”

“To what? Make money as an artist?” She frowns, dodging a group of tourists gathered outside a coffee shop.

“No. I mean, maybe? Don’t get me wrong, that would be great. I was gonna say… I hope you can find a way to do something that makes you happy.”

“And bartending doesn’t make me happy?” She stops as we reach the bike and hugs her arms across her chest.

“Hey, I didn’t say that.” I dip my chin, getting in her eyeline. “But does it? Be real. Is that what you wanna do?”

She turns away, biting her lip and shaking her head slightly.

“Ada, come on. You can’t honestly tell me getting hit on by drunk assholes every night makes you as happy as when you were drawing with Sam and Hazel!”

“Jess, not everyone gets to run around doing whatever makes them happy all the time.”

“So you’re not even gonna try?”

“I dunno! I’m twenty-five, for fuck’s sake! I have time to figure my shit out. I just want everyone to stop pressuring me about it!”

“Why are you getting upset? I’m trying to be supportive, here. Look—” I pull out the paintbrushes from my pocket and hold them out for her. “I just wanna show you I’m in your corner.”

Her demeanor stutters. She stares at the paintbrushes but doesn’t take them. “Why did you do that?”

I drop my outstretched arm in defeat. “Oh my God, Ada. Why is it so hard for you to accept that I wanna support you?”

“Because it’s like you’re telling me what to do! Like I need to do more. Be more. Be better.”

I hold up my hands. “I’m not. I swear. But you’re amazing at this. You have a gift. Even Claire noticed how incredible your drawing was. And she could be a foot in the door for an illustrator job. That’s legit, paid work!”

“I know that.” She frowns at the ground.

“Then why are you resisting this stuff?”

Her expression falls. “Jesus, it’s like you’re in fucking cahoots with my parents.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you.”

Something about that makes her snap. “So quit it! Quit doing nice things for me! Stop being so nice!” Her voice is pleading. “Jess… You live in Australia!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t answer, just slings her backpack over both shoulders and picks up her helmet.

“What do you need from me, Ada? What do you want me to say?”

She tenses up in a shrug. “Can’t I just… do what I’m doing? And can’t we just have fun this summer? Why does it have to be more than that? Bigger than that?”

I step toward her. “You’re bigger than that. Can’t you see?”

We’re bigger than that, I almost say.

Ada seems to read my thoughts and gives me a warning look.