“I’ll talk to Tyler,” I say and run my fingertips over the smooth beads—over Jesse’s smooth, warm skin, over taut muscle and sinew—
“Something else on yo
ur mind?” Kayla taps her forehead. “I can hear cogs turning.”
“She needs lubrication,” Ev quips, the traitor, then rolls on the carpet, laughing. “Oh my God, lubrication …”
“Now, now. Very funny.” Kayla pats Ev’s head, her eyes on me. “Shh. Let’s hear what’s troubling Amber here.”
I gather up my knees and rest my forehead on them. “I’m just worried about Asher’s wedding.”
“Why?” Kayla frowns at me.
“I’m not good around people.”
“Nonsense,” Ev says. “You’re great. It will be lots of fun. You’ll see.”
Yeah, right. I love Ev, but sometimes I don’t think she really knows me. She can’t understand how I freak out like that in crowds. Thinks I can get over it.
As if I haven’t tried.
I think again of Jesse offering to take me, make sure I have fun. Will he do it now? I doubt it. I tried calling him—got his number from Micah, who promised not to tell him anything—but he doesn’t reply. I’m more worried about him than I am about the wedding, which is stupid.
He probably doesn’t want to talk to me or see me again, after my interrogation of him.
I bite on my lower lip. This is what’s troubling me, but how can I tell the girls that? They’ll laugh. They’ll tell me to stop thinking about him.
And I frigging can’t. I feel like I’m losing my mind.
While I’m lost inside my mind, Kayla makes a grab for my box, and she spreads pendants, earrings and bracelets on the red carpet. Ev bends over them eagerly, like a kid at Christmas, and their exclamations of awe and their giggles wash over me.
A thought has hit me, and it’s sending chills down my spine.
I told Jesse I’m antisocial, too, and he didn’t believe me. Then I got comfortable, let myself free to do and say whatever came to my mind. I thought we were just talking, but instead I pushed him until he snapped and ran, like I knew would happen.
Like everyone else, he expected me to know the boundaries, to behave normal. He said I could be myself, that I’m fine as I am—but apparently that was a lie.
***
Saturday morning and I’m standing in front of Jesse’s door.
This is a bad idea. I know it, and I wish I had a better one, but if I ask Ev or Kayla or any of the boys to take the bags with Jesse’s new clothes over to his place, they’re bound to ask me questions and assume lots of things that aren’t true.
I don’t need more teasing and harassment. Seriously, I’m fine most of the time, but avoiding drama is half the work.
Besides… I need to see Jesse.
I reflect on that, my finger hovering over the doorbell. Although I’m pissed at him for vanishing, I don’t blame him. In fact, I’m worried about him. After dropping that bomb—and I’m still not sure what he was telling me exactly—I want to look into his eyes and make sure he’s okay.
It’s been years since that evening he was attacked, I remind myself, hefting the bags in my hand. The plastic is cutting into my palm. He’s here, alive, perfectly healthy, working and flirting with girls. Going shopping with you. He doesn’t need your concern. He survived all by himself, but still…
“Sometimes I’m not sure I did.” That’s what he said.
I ring the bell and wait, his words haunting me. It doesn’t matter. I’m just going to drop off his bags and go.
Nothing happens for a while, and I send the staircase a longing glance. Crap. I ring again, shifting the bags to my other hand.
In my memory, I see the way he’d looked in the metallic blue shirt that made his eyes glow, his smile, his teasing.