I’m not sure how I earned her trust, but I’ll take it, because when it comes to Madeline, I’m selfish like that.
TWENTY-FIVE
Madeline
Lottie is in the living room, bow gliding over the strings of her violin, while I’m busy in the kitchen assembling nachos. Cheese, chips, jalapeños, and olives. I’ve made nachos a hundred times before so it should be simple, but today I can’t concentrate.
Every time I shift my weight, every little movement of my hips or my legs, my whole body sparks thinking about being with Jesse at Ford and Landyn’s house. Of the way he’d pushed me against the sink and had taken me.
God. I’d never done anything like that in my entire life, and we were insanely lucky we didn’t get caught. Most of the Cove staff was upstairs socializing while I was getting it on with my boss.
I still can’t believe I did that. But it was worth the risk. More than worth it. Oddly enough, I have zero regrets.
I slide the nachos into the oven and lean my palms on the counter, remembering how close we’d been. How intense it had been. How different it felt from anything I’d ever done before. Not even close. I’ve never thought of myself as asexual being. No one has ever been able to sweep me off my feet, to undo me. Sex just isn’t something I’ve ever thought about very much, but it turns out, two nights with Jesse Winters can rewire every assumption I’ve ever had about myself.
Lottie shifts into a slower piece, the notes warm and melting, and I swear I can feel them in my chest. The house feels soft and safe and far too quiet for the thoughts rattling around in my head. It’s a normal Sunday afternoon, but nothing inside of me feels normal. Not after the week I’ve had.
A week of working alongside Jesse has worked me up. We haven’t touched each other like that again or snuck off somewhere and ripped each other’s clothes off. We have, however, snuck stolen glances across the room. One morning he caught me alone in the hallway and pushed me against the wall and kissed me like he couldn’t wait another second. When he broke the kiss, he walked away like he hadn’t just turned my bones to soup.
At the coffee maker one morning, he asked me about the romance book I was reading. I told him I would not be discussing a book with a shirtless man on the cover with my boss. The idea of it sounded like a fever dream. But Jesse is persistent, so I when I finished reading it, I left it in a bag on his desk. Since then, at random times throughout the week my phone has buzzed with quotes from the book. Sometimes the lines are poignant, other times they are the filthy ones. Yesterday, he sent me one that made me choke on my coffee. When I looked up from my desk to see if anyone noticed, my eyes collided with his while he pretended to look deeply invested in an Excel spreadsheet.
It’s the little things that he does that I can’t get over though—like walking me to my car after work, or the teasing texts he sends when I’m getting ready for bed. He always meets my eyes when we pass in the hallway, and he winks before turning away.Those moments have felt like they are all ours. He’s become the best part of my day.
I can’t stop wondering when we’ll get another moment alone.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans. I check the screen, hoping for a message from Jesse, and when I see his name, it feels like butterflies swoop in my stomach.
Jesse: What are you doing today, Mads?
Jesse: And please don’t say you’re busy.
I shake my head, but I’m smiling as my thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Me: About to eat a huge plate of nachos with Lottie. I’m fancy like that.
Jesse: Sounds fun. And after?
Me: Why?
Jesse: Because I want to see you.
Lottie stops playing and when I look up, I find her staring at me from the living room. “You look weird,” she says. “Is that a good text or a bad text?”
I don’t answer, thumbs hovering over my phone as I decide how to respond to him.
“Oh! It’s aboytext, isn’t it?”
“No,” I say, a little too quickly.
“RightRight. That’s why your face looks like you’re in a Christmas movie and someone just turned on the twinkle lights.”
“Fine. It’s Jesse. He’s asking what I’m doing today.”
Lottie lets out a dramatic gasp. “You’re going on a date.”
“Not a date.”
“Right,” she says, drawing out the word. “You sound breathless, but it’s definitely not a date.”
