Save the Date(25)

“Okay,” he’d said a few minutes later.

“Bye.” I’d smiled against his mouth as we kept kissing, with a new intensity now.

“Bye.” He’d kissed me back.

“Bye.”

“Hi there.” I blinked, startled out of these memories, and forced myself to focus on Jesse—this Jesse, present-tense Jesse, the one who was smiling and walking over to me.

I reminded myself to breathe, that I knew how to do it, that I’d been doing it all my life. “Hi,” I finally managed, smoothing my hair back from my forehead, wishing I knew what to do with my hands.

I’d had a million conversations in my head with Jesse since that night over Christmas break. But now that he was here, it was like my entire brain had been wiped clean as I tried to think of something to say.

The Jesse in front of me looked pretty much the same—his hair was just a little longer now. He was wearing a dark-blue sweater with his jeans, and when he raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair, it rode up for just a moment, giving me a flash of his hip and stomach before it fell back down again.

“Charlie,” Jesse said, taking a step toward me. His words were light and friendly, but he was looking right at me and not letting his gaze drop. As I met his eyes, I could feel my pulse beating places I usually wasn’t aware of it—at the base of my throat, in my fingertips, thudding in my ears. “I didn’t know I’d be seeing you. It’s my lucky day.”

“I know,” I said, my voice coming out high and strangled. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I know.” I gave a one-shouldered shrug, trying to appear casual and breezy, like this was the way I’d talk to anyone and not just someone who had seen me naked. At the thought of that—and of all I’d seen of Jesse—my palms started to sweat, and I wiped them quickly on my jeans before sticking them in my back pockets. I glanced back at the car but couldn’t see Mike—he was presumably still getting his bags. Now that I was here, it was hitting me, a little too late, that I had no idea how to act in front of Jesse. Was I supposed to pretend that nothing had happened with us and things were the same as they’d always been?

“It’s good to see you,” Jesse said, taking another step closer. His tone was still easy and friendly—like if you read the transcript of our conversation, it would all seem aboveboard—but his eyes weren’t leaving mine, and there was an undercurrent to everything he was saying. He glanced down at what I was wearing and smiled wider. “Nice sweater.”

“Oh,” I said, tugging at the hem. “Right. I probably should have given it back.”

“Keep it,” he said, taking a step closer to me still. “It looks way better on you.”

I was getting flushed all over, like the sun had just started shining directly on me alone. “Thanks,” I said. “When did—”

“There he is!” Jesse smiled wide as Mike came around the side of the car, carrying his suitcase and garment bag and shooting me an irritated look.

“Thanks for the help,” he said as he and Jesse clasped hands and bumped shoulders.

“Sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t, not even a little bit.

“When did you get in?” Mike asked, already taking a step toward the Fosters’ house, clearly indicating that he was done with me being part of this conversation.

“Drove down last night,” Jesse said, not moving, his eyes still finding mine every few seconds. “I decided I really didn’t need to go to any of my Friday classes.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I guess you thought the same thing?”

“Pretty much,” I said with what I hoped was a casual shrug.

Mike stopped, patted his pockets, then turned and headed back to the car. “I left my phone,” he said, shaking his head.

The second Mike turned his back on us, Jesse closed the distance between us, so that he was near enough to touch, and my knees went wobbly. “Hi,” he said again, this time just for me, his voice low and velvety.

“Hi,” I repeated back, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Oh?” I was trying to hold it back, but I could feel my smile starting to break through.

“Uh-huh.” He reached out and brushed my hip with trailing fingers, setting off an explosion of sparks in my brain, then slipped his hand under the hem of my—technically his—sweater, his thumbs tracing a pattern on my bare skin as my heart started beating triple time.

“That’s good,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, all too aware that Mike was going to be back any second now and might have some very big questions about what, exactly, his sister and best friend were doing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him coming around the side of the car. “Mike,” I said to Jesse, who immediately took a step away, his hands dropping down to his sides.

“Found it?” Jesse’s tone had immediately shifted, becoming more jovial—more public, unlike the voice he’d just been using, which had been meant only for me.

Mike nodded. “I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner,” he said to me as he walked toward the house.

“You know about the thing at the Pearce?”

Mike stopped and turned to look at me, his expression inscrutable. “I know,” he said, then turned his back on me and continued on.