“Oh fuck.” He lifts his arm again, twists to have a look, and the seam tears wider, showing a good chunk of his flared ribs. “And it was one of my newer shirts.”
I lick my lips, transfixed. “This is new? Looks as old as you are.”
“Dammit, Embers.” He locks his hands behind his head and sighs. “I’ve got nothing to wear at Asher’s wedding. I really need to go shopping.”
“Yeah? You make it sound like a trip to the ninth circle of hell.”
“It is. Sorta.” He lets his arms flop down at his sides. “I hate shopping. Kinda like you and parties, ya know?”
I blink. Okay. “Well, it’s summer. Everyone’s wearing ripped clothes.”
“That’s jeans, Embers.”
“Expand the concept.” I grin at him, and his pupils darken again, though this time I have no clue what he’s thinking.
Why am I talking to him? How can I be so relaxed with him? I hardly know him. Plus, he’s a jerk. Though, right now, under his blue-green scrutiny, I can’t quite remember what it was he did that was so bad.
“Don’t you have a pair of dark jeans and a nice shirt? I bet you’ll get away with it. Asher and Audrey don’t seem anal about dress codes.”
“Anal.” He chuckles. “Yeah, well. No, I don’t have dark jeans and a nice shirt.”
“Okay.” I hum under my breath. “Jeans that aren’t ripped and a nice shirt?”
He shakes his head.
“So what do you have?”
He looks down at himself. “My jogging pants and shoes. Two pairs of jeans, ripped, and a few more T-shirts. Oh and a sweater and a jacket.”
My mouth falls open. “That’s all?”
“I don’t need more. I wash them and they’re good as new.”
“Except when they’re falling apart.”
“Damn.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m serious. I have trouble shopping.”
“Why? You don’t mind being around crowds. So what’s the issue?”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Shit, I need to do something. The wedding’s coming up in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I squeak. “So soon?”
“You going, too?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“That’s fucking awesome.” He turns his attention back to me and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Damn, I bet you’re dying to go, aren’t you, Embers?”
“Not funny. And stop calling me Embers. It’s a shitty name, anyway.”
He suddenly pushes his chair back, rattling the table as he gets up, unfolding his long frame. “Right. Well, I gotta go.”
My mouth falls open and I close it with a snap. What the heck is going on? “Jesse.”
“What?” he growls. He’s already grabbed his hoodie and is pulling it on. His head pops through the opening, and he thrusts his arms into the sleeves. “You were right not wanting to let me in. Fuck, I’m surprised you did. All I do is fuck up—”
I push to my feet. “JJ.”