Chapter 12
The first thing I tell Jesse, right after he opens the door and I slip inside his room, yet again uninvited, is:
“Thank you for the gloves.”
It is, perhaps, an odd thing to say to someone in lieu of hello—especially at three a.m., and especially after knocking on their door at an increasingly loud volume for several minutes, with the obvious intent to wake them up.
But I couldn’t help myself. After the hot tub I did try to shove what happened out of my mind and to sleep the restlessness away.
It was a valiant attempt, one that lasted three whole overwrought hours before I muttered, “Fuck it,” and decided to bring all the nervous energy I couldn’t get rid of to Jesse’s room.
Returning the gloves was the only excuse I was able to think of, and yes, I do feel bad about barging in.
Not too bad, though, because it’s immediately evident that Jesse wasn’t sleeping.
Sure, he is wearing green plaid pajama pants that for some Christmas family photo jest of fate happen to exactly match the ones I have on, with a faded black Minecraft T-shirt that’s clearly an old favorite.
But the light of the bedside lamp glows softly, and a book is open facedown on the comforter.
I know exactly what it is, even without reading the title.
“Viola?” He blinks twice. Once more. His glasses are folded on the desk, in front of the TV. “Are you okay?”
“Here,” I say, holding out the gloves until he has no choice but to accept them. “I wanted to return them.”
“I…you can keep them.”
“Nah.”
“You should. At least until we go back.”
“It’s okay. I’d probably lose one. Or both. And I have no plans to frolic in the snow ever again.” I push the door closed behind me and pad to the bed, taking a seat next to one of the posts with my hands wedged under my thighs. “But it was nice of you to lend them to me. So, thank you.”
Jesse shakes his head as if trying to clear it.
His hair, those glorious black curls, look a bit wilder than usual.
Like maybe he’s been running his fingers through them.
“You’re welcome.” He scratches his jaw, and I begin to suspect that he has no clue what to do with his hands. “What are you doing here, Viola?”
What a good question. An excellent question. I pondered it as I tried to talk myself out of coming here, but I still got out of bed, slid a long-sleeved T-shirt over my tank top, and knocked on Jesse’s door. Go figure.
“Nothing. I just thought maybe we could…”
We could continue, I mean to say. With what we were doing in the hot tub a few hours ago. Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, and I’m going crazy, just from the knowledge that you’re in the next room over. That you exist.
But all I can bring myself to tell Jesse is, “We could talk.”
“…Talk?”
I nod. “Talk.”
“About what?” He looks wary, and also far away. Like he’s trying to keep his distance in more ways than one.
“I don’t know. We could talk about a lot of things.
We could bash Fallout 76 a little more, or you could recite a curated selection of the poetry Otto wrote for Mike, or you could tell me if that copy of The Sunken Heart is yours.
I initially thought it must be from the library here, but after yesterday’s meeting I’m not so sure.
We could chat about that weird triathlon stuff you and Ashley love so much, or…
I don’t know. The weather is always a favorite.
” My hand comes up to fidget with the tips of my hair.
It’s gotten too long, and I should get it cut, but leaving it down was a good idea.
Gives me something to do. “Or we could talk about what happened earlier today.”
Jesse swallows and runs his palm down his face. His answer is a long time coming. “It was technically yesterday,” he mutters.
I huff out a laugh. “Right. I mean, it’s an incredibly pedantic thing to point out, but nevertheless true.”
“Jesus.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking apologetic and defeated. “I was way out of line.”
“No. You weren’t.”
“I was. It’s just that whenever you’re around…It has been a problem. I’ve thought about you so much through the years, but I seem to be unable to not fuck up when I’m with you.” He takes a deep breath. “You were very close. I lost control. Badly. And—”
“I don’t mind,” I hasten to push in. And when he still looks like he couldn’t possibly believe me, I nod forcefully.
“For real. I don’t. It’s kind of…” flattering, I almost say.
But I think it might be construed the wrong way.
I’m not here, in this room, because someone wants me.
I’m here because that someone is Jesse. Because he’s…
God, I can’t look away from him. From that shallow dimple that seems to appear only when he clenches his jaw. “It’s fine.”
“Is it?” He doesn’t seem convinced, so I rise from the bed and walk closer to him, until we’re standing in front of each other.
And then, at last, I let it out. “I used to have a crush on you,” I confess. It turns out to be a wonderfully easy thing to do.
His lips twitch into a small smile. “It’s nice of you to say, but—”
“No. Jesse, this is not a let’s-spare-the-boy’s-feelings situation.
I used to have a crush on you. For years.
It started the second time we met, and it continued for…
a long time. It didn’t end until last year, with the stupid mistletoe, and only because your actions and what you told my cousin were such an obvious rejection, I couldn’t help being angry.
I refused to allow myself to like you. But even when I was dating this other guy, I had a crush on you, and also a lot of…
” I glance around, wondering how to phrase it. Then go with, “Impure thoughts.”
His eyes widen. “Impure thoughts.”
“Interpret that as you will. The point is, I don’t mind that you’re into me.” I’m barefoot, and he’s so tall, so solid, I can feel the heat he emanates even without touching him. “I welcome it, actually.”
Jesse looks lost for a moment, frowning like he needs time to decode what I said, the implications of it. After a while his lips part and his mouth moves to form three simple words. “Are you sure?”
“Very,” I say, stepping a little closer.
He looks overwhelmed and conflicted, as taut as a bowstring.
I suspect that his brain might be about to explode—and then he takes a step back.
“The thing is, Viola, it’s costing me a lot, and I want to punch myself for saying this, I truly do, but…
If what you want is to get laid, I’m not the right person for it. ”
“Really?” I frown. Cock my head. “Earlier it felt like you might be.”
He exhales a laugh. “Yes. Really.”
“Why?”
“Many reasons, but…” He scratches the side of his neck. “Mainly, I don’t think I’d be very good at keeping things casual.”
“Oh.” I step into him, and now we are actually touching. Just barely, mostly our clothes, but it’s almost enough. “Have you only had sex with people you were in serious relationships with?”
Jesse shakes his head, but doesn’t move back, nor does he take his eyes off me. “I’ve had sex with people I barely knew. That’s not it.”
“So, what you’re saying is…” I lift my hand to his shoulder, feeling the lovely warmth of his skin through the thin cotton. “Historically, with other people, you have been good at keeping things casual.”
Jesse tucks his chin into his chest and says, “Historically. Yes.”
I nod. “So what’s the problem? If you’ve done it before, then you could—”
“The problem is that other women were not you.” His eyes stay locked with mine, and something hot and full explodes in my chest. Without realizing it, I’ve moved my hand to his face; I cup his cheek, soft and freshly shaven, and watch as his throat bobs.
“With you, I have to be careful. Because I don’t just like you, Viola.
I didn’t meet you at a bar and think that you were pretty.
I didn’t have fun on a blind date and decide to take you home.
I have thought of you every day for years.
I’ve pictured you in ways that, believe me, you do not want to hear.
I have a whole mental list of stuff to go through with you, and if we start something, it’s not going to just end for me.
It’s going to stick, and it is going to grow out of proportion, and it’s going to have the capacity to rip me apart.
Especially since you and I are going to be working very closely together for the next couple of years.
” His lips curve into a small, sad smile.
“I know it’s early. I know you don’t know me well.
I’m not saying that I refuse to be with you until you promise that you’ll marry me.
Lots of relationships start with the best intentions and still don’t work out.
But if you’re here because you’re thinking that some no-strings-attached sex would be fun…
” He wraps his fingers around my wrist, the one hovering by his cheek, but doesn’t push me away.
He holds me there as time stretches between us, sweet and uncertain. “That’s not where I’m at, Viola.”
What he just said, I cannot yet comprehend it. And at the same time, I understand it perfectly. It’s the reason my heart beats into my chest, my stomach, my temples. The reason my mouth is dry and my throat full. “I have a proposal.”
He nods and waits for me to continue.
“What if you and I were to…hang out, together, for the next couple days. And do whatever it is that we want—from, I don’t know, making out, to playing video games, to getting to know each other better.
Anything goes. And by the time we get back to Seattle, we could reassess the situation and see whether…
” I smile. Bite into my lip. “We could see whether there is something here. Something to be had.”
Jesse says nothing and studies me with clear, limpid eyes. I force myself to be patient, tell myself that I’ll take whatever answer he gives—when the corner of his mouth twitches upward.
He leans in and nuzzles his cheek into my hand. “Something to be had,” he murmurs, his words laced with humor and a warmth that sounds a lot like eagerness.
I push up on my toes and smile against his lips.