Page 77 of Jesse's Girl
Only my sexual frustration.
“No,” I lie. “Why?”
“You’re all… flushed or whatever.”
“I’m fine,” I dodge, grabbing the bar towel from him, and try to force myself to focus on work.
He gives me a look, then turns to serve a customer without saying anything more.
17
JESSE
“What do you mean, you can’t come?” Ada stands at the kitchen counter with her back to me, holding the phone to her ear.
I look up from my book as she listens to the voice on the other end of the line. We haven’t talked about our ill-advised food truck dinner the other night, apparently having fallen into an unspoken agreement to forget it ever happened.
“But I’ve already made a whole pitcher of margaritas.”
Reminding myself not to stare at her ass for probably the thousandth time, I force my eyes to the counter beside her, where an empty bottle of tequila sits uncapped near the sink.
“No, it’s fine,” she sighs. “I’ll just put it in the fridge or whatever.” She pauses again. “Yeah, okay. Have fun. What? Oh my God, shut up. I’m not… No. Bye!” She rushes to hang up, sounding flustered, and drops her phone onto the counter beside her, cursing under her breath.
“You good?” I ask.
“No.” I can hear the scowl in her voice.
“No Katie tonight, huh?”
Ada turns to face me, bracing her hands on the counter behind her.
I remind myself to keep my gaze level with hers and try to ignore the way her tits push out.
“Some surprise engagement party her parents are throwing her and Dimitri.” Catching my confused expression, she adds, “It’s just family.”
I flip my book face down on the table, then stand. Hoping to cheer her up, I puff up my chest and arch an eyebrow, putting on a comically deep voice as I stroll to the kitchen. “Well, it seems like you’ve got yourself a tequila problem, little lady.”
“Fuck off.” I can tell she’s trying not to smile.
Worth it.
I drop the voice, chuckling as I run a hand through my hair. “Seriously. I can help you with that. Gimme a cup.”
“Yeah?” She shoots me a dubious smirk as she passes me the glass, then gives the pitcher a gentle swirl. “Fuck, I made a lot.”
“Seems so.” I put my hand to my chest. “But I will fall on that sword.”
“So valiant,” she deadpans, filling my glass.
“Hey, wanna go sit in the backyard with these? Mr. Wozniak’s out of town—said we could use it this week.”
Filling her own glass, she darts a cautious look my way. “Oh, yeah.”
“Think I saw a couple crappy lawn chairs back there.”
She hesitates.
I can’t say I blame her. We both came far too close to saying things we shouldn’t have the other night. When I realize I’m not only alone with Ada, but about to split a bucket of booze with her, I add, “I’ll text Marcus to come join us.”