Page 67 of Jesse

He opens the door and jumps in, grinning like a boy. “OK. I’m ready now. Probably not the best choice for meeting the parents, but this here outfit was my jam back in the day.”

He laughs at his joke. And I can’t help myself. I laugh too.

Then I realize… I don’t think he did this to play a game. He didn’t choose these clothes to one-up me. This really is just him. The one I met. The one I loved and hated in the span of three days. The one who inspired me to spend ten million dollars on a second chance and commit more felonies than I can count.

“What?” he says. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“These clothes,” I say.

“I know. But… your parents are still cool, right?”

“What do you mean? Still cool?”

“You told me.”

“When?”

“You know. Back then.”

“I told you about my parents?”

“Yeah. Dive shop. Grew up there. Swimming with dolphins. Mom”—he points to me—“Silvia. And Dad, Jack.” His eyes are bright now. Like he’s really happy with himself. “And your brothers.” He squints his eyes. “Alonzo.” Pauses. “Tony. And…” He snaps his fingers. “Luke.” Then he pauses again. “Weird fucking combination of names. Where the hell did Alonzo come from?”

“My grandpop,” I say. “But we call him Lonz.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah. I remember that now. Your grandpop. And fuckin’ Lonz. Never met a Lonz before.”

“You looked me up in there, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“You Googled me.”

“No,” he says.

“Then how do you remember all that? Last night you had no idea who I was.”

“I dunno. It just all came back, I guess.”

“Liar,” I say. “I’m totally gonna Google your family and be all, ‘Hey, Johnny. How’s Samantha doing? Hey, Joey. How was your trip to Easter Island?’”

He laughs. “You’re insane.”

“What? That’s what you just did.”

“There’s no Samantha. And I’m one hundred percent positive Joey Boston doesn’t even know where Easter Island is.”

“Not the point. You’re cheating!”

He leans over into my personal space. Way too close, in fact. But he slides his sunglasses up onto his head, places a hand on my cheek, and says, “Emma.”

“What?”

We stare into each other’s eyes. Those goddamned blue eyes look like the ocean outside my window right now.

“I’m not cheating,” he says. “I just remembered, that’s all. You made a big impression on me. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.”

I start shaking my head, but his palm is firm on the side of my cheek. And then he leans in even closer and says, “Besides.” He kisses me. Softly, right on the lips. Little bit of tongue. Just the right amount to encourage that tingly feeling building in my stomach. And whispers, “I can’t cheat. Because this isn’t a game,” right into my mouth.