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I don’t know whether to believe him or not. How can I trust him?
I didn’t have to. This is a temporary agreement. Soon enough, it will be over, and Jesse can go back to being my friend’s annoying brother.
There’s a dull thump against the door.
“Marci?”
I get up and open it, and he nearly falls inside my room. He catches himself on the doorjamb in time, and it’s almost comical enough to make me smile. Almost.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I heard you. And that’s fine. The high school stuff is… Yeah. That’s fine,” I say. “And the kid stuff.”
“I was wrong.”
“Okay, Taylor, you don’t have to go that far. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
I put up a hand, but I misjudge the distance between us and slap it onto his chest.
We both look down at it, then up at each other.
My breaths grow quicker.
Jesse’s chest rises and falls in time with mine.
“The blankets are in the?—”
“Closet, yeah,” he says.
He takes a step back and breaks the tension between us.
“Thanks, Angel.”
And strangely, I like it this time. It’s easier to hate Jesse than to think of him as a nice guy. Because if I do, I’m going to cave and get what’s left of my heart trampled again.
Fifteen
JESSE
The Sheriff’sDepartment annual picnic always takes place at the start of fall, when the weather’s cool but the sun’s still out. I usually attend alone, apart from a stacked picnic basket, and feel like an asshole for it.
I grab the picnic basket out of the back of the car, the checked blanket laid over the top. Marci stands beside me, wearing a pair of sunglasses, her hair loose, wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts that expose her thighs.
I want to bury my head between them. I’m also tired of making myself come every five fucking minutes. Marci’s got me twisted into knots.
“Oh, my tote,” she says, reaching for the bag that she’s stacked with extra snacks and sunscreen.
I grab it for her.
“Got it.”
“I can take it.”
“You’re good.”
I loop the picnic basket and the tote over one arm, shut the trunk, and then take Marci’s hand.
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch.
