Page 71 of Jesse's Girl
As she breezes past, I inhale her delicious summer scent. She’s leaving for work soon, and I realize I don’t want her to go. I turn to face her, the bad idea bubbling up to the surface and coming out of my mouth before I can think better of it. “What time do you get a break tonight?”
She seems surprised at the question. “Uh, around seven, I think. Why?”
“Wanna grab dinner?”
She gives me a quizzical smile, tilting her head. “I usually eat at the restaurant…”
“I know,” I say quickly. “But there’s this food truck down the street from Carnival. Thought it might be good. We could walk over.”
“Uh, why the sudden interest in street food?” She pins me with a skeptical squint. “You starting a cringey food blog or something?”
“No.” I chuckle and shake my head. “But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Her brows lift. “Ominous shit, Jess.”
“Ada, fuck. I don’t need a kidney, if that’s what you mean. I just wanna talk to you.”
Those bright red lips twist as she considers me. “Okay. Yeah… sure, I guess.”
“Yeah?” A relieved warmth spreads across my chest, knowing I’ll get to see her again in a few hours, and I can’t help but smile.
“I mean, why not? I’m sick of the same old shit at Carnival, anyway.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, almost as if to make the point that her reasoning has to do with food—and nothing else.
“Well, then let’s hope it’s slightly better than the food you’re sick of?” I give her my best casual smirk, then take a sip of my water.
Would’ve been smooth if you hadn’t gulped so loud.
She laughs. “Yeah, that’s the bar we need to clear.”
“Okay.” I run a hand over my beard. “Fingers crossed.”
She shifts to lean back against the kitchen counter, studying me like she’s trying to figure me out.
That makes two of us.
“Alright,” she says slowly, “it’s a da—” she cuts herself off, shifting on her feet. “It’s a plan.” She shoots me a tight smile, then pushes off the counter toward the front door.
I try not to stare at her incredible ass as she walks past me to get her things.
She pauses in the entryway and turns back to me, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “See you tonight, I guess?”
Does she look hopeful?
“Be there at seven.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I let out a long exhale when the door closes behind her and drag a hand down my face.
It’s not a date. Just two friends grabbing dinner.
So why can’t I stop smiling?
16
ADA
Well, I didn’t have “Jesse fucking with my head” on my bingo card for tonight’s shift, but here we are. I keep replaying his words from earlier and can’t decide what to make of him asking to meet up for dinner.