Jesse
The neon lights of the Monkeyshines logo reflect off my windshield as we pull into the bar’s gravel parking lot.
Toby and Shelby are already sitting on a wooden bench out front, arms slung around each other, heads bent together.
When they spot my truck, Shelby leaps up with a squeal.
She scampers over, pressing her elbows into my open window.
“You’re late!” she scolds me. Her warm breath fills the interior of the truck, coating it with the smell of tequila. “And it’s your loss. Toby and I were a goddamn sensation.”
“You give Beyoncé and Jay-Z a run for their money,” I deadpan. “Now get in the car.”
But I forget to tell her the front seat is occupied, and before I can stop her, she skips around to the passenger-side door, flinging it open. Her eyes turn to saucers when they meet Marissa’s.
“Holy shit,” she breathes. She takes a beat to recover, then flicks her gaze to me. A satisfied smirk forms in the corner of her mouth. “Damn, Jesse, this was faster than I expected.”
How is it possible for my sister-in-law to be as big of a pain in the ass as a real sister? Her comment turns the back of my neck hot as I look everywhere in the car but at Marissa. I jerk a thumb toward the back seat.
“You and Tweedledumb are going to have to share the jump seat. Think you can manage for the ten-minute drive?”
She giggles. “I’ll never say no to mounting your brother.” I pretend to vomit, and it makes her laugh even harder before she slams the passenger door shut and heads to the back of the truck.
“So.” Toby leans forward and presses one elbow into each of our headrests. He smells like he just deboarded a pirate ship. “What have you two been up to this evening?”
“Just the usual,” Marissa replies. “Fought a mafia boss. Robbed a bank. Wrestled a few dragons.” She sneaks a sidelong glance and gives me a conspiratorial grin, like we are sharing an inside joke. I grin back at her, not hating the sense of intimacy one bit.
Toby snorts out a laugh. “You’re funny. I didn’t know you were funny!”
Shelby climbs onto Toby’s lap, slamming the door behind her, and I shift the car into drive. The faster I can get these two home, the better.
“Of course she’s funny,” Shelby says. “Haven’t you watched her movies? Her comedic timing is impeccable. Our girl is a multihyphenate.”
“A multihyphenate,” Toby repeats slowly. Then he beams at Shelby. “My lady is so smart. I love it when she uses big words.”
Shelby leans forward, her cheek pressed against my brother’s. They’ve quite literally morphed into a two-headed monster. “Speaking of the industry, I have a question for you, Marissa.”
Oh god. This is not happening.
“Shelby, don’t,” I warn.
My sister-in-law ignores me, predictably. “Don’t you think the three of us would be perfect for a home-improvement show? We’re the ideal complementary characters. I’m the personality, obviously. Toby is the brawn. And Jesse is the pretty face we put on the posters.”
Now would be an ideal time for aliens to descend and launch a hostile takeover. And with any luck, take me back to their home planet.
Marissa laughs softly. “I completely agree.”
I shake my head, not taking the compliment and trying to communicate, silently, that I am not a part of this idea.
“Jesse,” Shelby whines, “let’s go out for a nightcap. You and Marissa need to have another drink with us.”
“The only thing you two need is a gallon of Pedialyte.”
“Aww, you’re no fun.” She pouts, then goes quiet for one blissful moment. “How about a Sheetz Late Nite Bite instead?”
“Oh, that sounds amazing,” Toby says. “I could really go for some Hotzarella sticks right now.”
“Hell yeah!” Shelby pumps a fist into the air. “Let’s get curly fries too! On second thought, we should probably just get the app sampler and cover our bases. Marissa, are you in?”
I sneak a glance at Marissa to gauge her reaction to the two Muppets in my back seat. No doubt she’s currently regretting her choice to join me in this side quest. But to my surprise, she’s grinning at them in the rearview mirror.
“I’ll never say no to curly fries.”
By the time I pull into Shelby and Toby’s driveway thirty minutes later, my car smells like the inside of a deep fryer, and Marissa has seen every photo of my niece taken in the past three years. I reach under my seat and grab the two bottles of Gatorade I picked up at the gas station.
“Drink these and don’t forget to take Advil before you go to sleep. Now be gone, before you destroy the sanctity of this vehicle any further.”
The two of them are giggling as they stumble out of the back seat.
Arms wrapped around each other, they make their way up the drive.
I feel a twinge of envy. My brother can be a blockhead, but he’s a good guy, and Shelby is his perfect match.
The yin to his yang. At the end of the day, who doesn’t want a love like theirs?
To find a partner to stumble through life with, who appreciates us for exactly who we are?
I wait to see them safely inside before thrusting the car into reverse.
“Well, that was entertaining,” Marissa says, sounding like she means it.
I look in her direction and allow myself to thoroughly drink her in. Her inner light is flickering back on, as if my family’s alcohol-laced breath fanned her flame.
With effort, I force my eyes away. It’s hard enough to concentrate on driving when she’s sitting this close to me.
She’s always had a presence that’s impossible to ignore.
And tonight, she was the twelve-year-old girl I knew again, radiating that joyful energy I always found so magnetic.
But it was more than that. Not only was she happy to help rescue my family, but she blended in seamlessly, like she’s known them forever.
The dynamic between the four of us felt completely natural, familiar even. It’s kind of unsettling.
“I promise they aren’t usually like this. But they rarely get a night out to themselves, so I can’t really blame them for letting loose when they do. Just hope they’re not too hungover.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine after the care you gave them. That was some impressive big brothering.”
“What can I say? My parents gave me a book about being the Best Big Brother the day they brought that doofus home. The message stuck.”
I expect Marissa to laugh, but instead she sighs, settling back against the headrest. As she does, the mood palpably shifts.
“Well, it’s nice to know there are some responsible men out there,” she says. “Guys who are willing to be the adult in the room. I’m kind of envious. I bet it’s nice to be taken care of by other people.”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
I briefly scrolled through this Rocky guy’s Wikipedia page while everyone was using the bathroom at Sheetz.
Apparently, he’s some former teen heartthrob turned Hollywood star turned big-shot director who thinks he’s God’s gift to the arts.
He also has a rap sheet of extramarital affairs nearly as long as his résumé.
It pains me to consider that this was the best Marissa could do for a partner.
She deserves so much better. She should be with someone who lifts her up instead of dragging her down.
It’s quarter to nine when I pull into her driveway, and all the lights are off, save for her porch light.
I shift the truck into park. The beam of my headlights cuts through the darkness, casting a foggy light against her garage doors.
I lean back into my seat, unsure what to do with my hands.
I feel like I’m seventeen again, dropping off my date and summoning the balls to make a move before her dad appears in the window.
Is that what I think is going to happen here?
That she’s going to lean over the console, bat her eyes, and give me some hint that she wants me to kiss her?
The idea is outrageous. Despite the events of the evening, we are not teenagers.
Marissa is a grown woman, not my prom date.
Not only is she stunning, but she’s also from a different stratosphere of humankind.
The guys she’s been with are wealthy and successful, the type who make millions per year and pose for magazines in designer clothes.
I’m a townie who buys store-brand pasta and has worn the same pair of work boots for the past five years.
In what universe would she ever be interested in someone like me?
And yet I’m sure I wasn’t imagining the way she was looking at me just now in the car. The way her eyes lingered when we exchanged amused smiles. The weighty tether that seems to bind us together.
I shake my head, clearing away the thought. Tonight wasn’t some grand romantic moment. We’re two people who shared amusement over a couple who can’t hold their alcohol, not a pair of lovesick teenagers.
I need to get it together.
“Thanks again for dinner,” she says. “It was just what I needed.”
Her words pinch my heart, and I run a hand over my chest to soothe the ache. What I wouldn’t do to be everything this woman needs.
She leans forward, brushing her lips against my cheek. The scent of her shampoo washes over me, and I go instantly, painfully hard.
“Good night,” she whispers.
I watch the shape of her as she makes her way to the door. Once she closes it behind her, I lean back against the headrest and squeeze my eyes shut hard enough to see stars.
God, I am so fucked.