Page 73 of Jesse's Girl
His expression is open—waiting.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally ask.
“Doing what?”
“First you’re putting shit into my head about getting into art school, then you’re punching some drunk guy for me, and now you’re inviting me to dinner?”
He scoffs, giving me a crooked smile. “It’s a food truck, Ada. And you’re in the middle of a shift. We can’t grab burgers?”
“But you’re being all… nice to me.” Really, how dare he be a total smoke show and kind at the same time? A girl’s only got so much willpower.
He barks a laugh. “God, sorry! What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know!” I sputter. “Go back to teasing me and shoving napkins in my face!”
“You want me to shove a napkin in your face? What, you didn’t get enough the first time?” He laughs again. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m just being your friend, here.”
“Jesse.” I give him a look. Don’t make me say it.
“Ada,” he says, copying me mockingly. He knows.
I let out an exasperated breath. We can’t talk about this. This is not friendship territory. “Never mind. What did you want to talk about, anyway?”
“Is that what’s gotten you all worked up? I already told you, I don’t need to harvest your organs.” His teasing tone punches a tiny hole in the wall I’ve thrown up between us and some of the tension leaves my shoulders.
A smirk tugs at my lips despite my irritation. “Okay, then, what is it? It’s been bugging me.”
“Clearly,” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“Fuck off. Spit it out.”
What is wrong with me?
I’m not usually the anxious type. At least I wasn’t until Jesse showed up.
He casts a glance down the street toward the food truck. “Listen, I’ll explain. But do you think you can manage to walk and talk? Because I am actually hungry, here.”
“Fine.”
With the sun warming our backs, Jesse falls into step beside me and I turn to study him. His messy blond hair is lit up in a golden glow and his beard, trimmed to a short stubble on the rise of his cheek, glints in the early evening light. I look away, biting my lip until it hurts.
Damn him for being so gorgeous. So confusingly gorgeous.
“So,” he starts, “the other night when you came into my room…”
I try to suppress my wince. “Yeah?”
“You asked about my mom, right?”
Worry prickles at the base of my neck. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah.” He shakes his head, waving off my concern. “She doesn’t need your organs either.”
“Okay, good.” I give him a wary smile, but the joke manages to lift another layer of tension away. “I was planning on selling them online, anyway.”
His deep laugh lights me up and I can’t stop the grin that takes over my face. I’ve always prided myself on my quick wit but, I realize now, it’s different with Jesse. It matters more if he laughs at my jokes.
Shit. That’s a bad sign.