“Why now?” I asked instead. It came out quiet, unsure. Jesse didn’t rush a reply, a beat of thoughtful silence sitting between us.
“Last week,” he said then, slow as if he was picking his way along a realization. “When I found you—I was really worried. Irrationally worried. Like, I knew it was flu, and I still—I wasworried.”
“At least half in love with you.”Neil’s voice dancing along the edges of my mind, and now… Jesse hadn’t said it, not like that, but it felt like it clung to the outer contours of his words.
I sucked in a breath and smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he echoed, like he hadn’t actually believed I’d say yes.
“Okay, yes. A date.”
His smile was the shade of the sun.
SIXTEEN
JESSE
Shane’s street still dreamed in shades of blue and gray. I exhaled a cloud into the October dawn and walked past a neighboring building that leaked salsa music through a cracked-open window. Otherwise—early Sunday silence.
I leaned on Shane’s doorbell until he grumbled an insult through the intercom, then turned to his Corolla parked at the curb, wonderfully reliable and about as flashy as a tax return, its hood beaded with morning dew. Perfect camouflage for a clandestine day trip with a boy I shouldn’t want.
Huh. Seemed I was still prepared to break some rules.
Shane ambled out a couple of minutes later and offered me a demonstrative yawn. “Just so we’re clear, seven on a Sunday is above and beyond the call of friendship duty.”
“Some of us regularly work on Sundays,” I said.
“Suckers.” He gave me a once-over that registered my trail sneakers and jeans, the simple flannel shirt, and a teal Patagonia jacket that I’d bought on my first fellow salary. “Nice,” he said. “Very ‘I know how to be practical without draping myself in neon.’”
“Exactly what I was going for.” I snatched the car key from him and tossed my daypack into the backseat. Vanilla air freshener wafted out.
“Got everything?” Shane asked. His hair was sticking up in sleepy tufts at the back of his head. “Picnic stuff, candles, lube?”
“It’s not about getting laid,” I told him.
“Right.” Shane nodded, all indulgence. “Because been there, done him.”
“Funny.”
“Thanks,” he said brightly, then sobered. “So—Harriman State Park. A whole day, just the two of you. You sure about this?”
“Yes.” I slipped in behind the wheel and adjusted the mirror, mostly to avoid the worried look in his eyes.
“Even with attending applications opening two months from now?” he asked.
I thought of taking Finn home when he’d been sick, of his quiet “Stay?” Thought of how he’d held steady during the long, grinding hours of simulating the Jackson-twin surgery, biting back coughs that made his eyes water because even a tiny slip-up might have prompted Novak to swap him out. How he’d smiled, sweet like a secret, when I’d passed him a bottle of water, our fingers brushing.
“I’m sure,” I said.
“Okay then.” Shane’s shoulders dropped. “Never thought I’d see you risk your career for a boy, you know?”
It twisted oddly through my stomach, like a Christmas cracker going off. “That a good or a bad thing?”
“I don’t actually know.” He pursed his mouth. “But he must be something really special for you to feel like he’s worth it.”
“Yeah.” I exhaled. “I think he is.”
“Good. Then go.” Shane tapped the roof. “Gas is half-full, insurance card and the like in the glovebox. Don’t total my car. Don’t total your date either.”
