Save the Date(3)

“Sure,” I said again, making myself keep looking right at him, resisting the urge to leap up and run to my purse so that I could text Siobhan and tell her what was happening and get her advice on what, exactly, I should do. I kicked off my flats and drew my legs up underneath me. “A movie sounds great.”

Jesse gave me some options, and I pretended to care about this decision, but I knew we were both just marking time. And sure enough, the movie was only a few minutes in—from what I could tell in my distracted state, it seemed to be about a by-the-book cop who switches bodies with his police dog partner—when Jesse looked away from the screen and into my eyes.

“Hey,” he said, one side of his mouth kicking up in a smile.

“Hey,” I said back, not able to keep the nervousness out of my voice this time. He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then stroked his thumb along my jaw as he tilted his head and leaned in, eyes already closing.

And then he kissed me.

From the first moment our lips touched, it was clear Jesse knew what he was doing. These were not the shy, tentative kisses I’d had before, and I felt my breath catch in my throat as he kissed me, fast and deep. I was trying to keep up, trying to understand that this really, truly was happening. I kissed him back, hoping that my inexperience wasn’t showing. But if it was, Jesse didn’t seem to mind. My heart was galloping even as it felt like I was turning slowly to liquid, pooling into the Fosters’ worn corduroy couch. Jesse broke away for a second and looked down into my eyes, and I tried to catch my breath, tried to gather my thoughts into something beyond his name repeating over and over in my head.

“So,” he said, as he slid an arm underneath my hips and emerged a second later with the remote. He gave me a smile like we were sharing a secret and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we need this on, do you?”

I smiled back at him. “Probably not.” Jesse pointed the remote at the TV again, as the straitlaced police captain exclaimed, “I’ve heard of a dog’s life, but this is ridiculous!” The sound cut off, and it was suddenly darker and quieter in the basement, just me and Jesse and the rain against the windows.

“Well then,” he said, smiling at me before bending his head to kiss down my neck, making me gasp and then shiver, while I silently thanked Siobhan for talking me out of wearing the turtleneck I’d been considering. Without even realizing it was happening, he was easing me back on the couch, so that my head was on the armrest. Jesse was above me, his legs tangled in between mine.

He started to kiss me again as he slipped his hands underneath the hem of my sweater, and I drew in a sharp breath. “What?” Jesse asked, straightening up and rubbing his hands together. “Are they cold?”

“No,” I said, sitting up a tiny bit more as I looked down at my bare stomach and my sweater that was gathered around my ribs. Jesse started tracing his fingers across my stomach gently, and I could feel myself start to go melty again. But the most I had ever come close to doing before this was kissing—and even then, I’d never gotten to lying-down kissing.

“Is this okay?” Jesse asked, his eyes searching mine, his hands on either side of my rib cage, his thumbs tracing slow circles on my bare skin. I looked back at him and hesitated a second before nodding. It wasn’t that I wanted him to stop—it was just that we were moving at speeds far beyond anything I’d ever experienced. It had taken Eddie a week to get up the nerve to hold my hand. I drew in a breath as his hands slipped back under my sweater, and I lost myself in what was happening, in his hands on my skin and our kisses that were growing more and more fevered, until he pulled my sweater over my head and tossed it aside and his hands went straight for the front clasp of my bra. I stiffened, and Jesse leaned back, his brow furrowed.

“You okay?”

“Just—” I glanced up the stairs. Suddenly I was all too aware that at any moment either of Jesse’s parents could come down. And I wasn’t sure that I could deal with the Fosters—both of whom had known me since I was five—seeing me half-naked on their couch, kissing their son. “Um . . . are your parents home?”

“They’re asleep upstairs,” Jesse said confidently, but I saw him look up toward the staircase as well.

I pushed myself up so that I was sitting, feeling like this—whatever it had been—was starting to slip through my fingers. Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to kissing Jesse now that all I could think about was his parents walking in on us.

“Tell you what,” he said before I could say anything. He leaned closer to me, smiling. “I know where we can go.” He nodded toward the door, and I held my breath, hoping he wasn’t going to suggest his car, when he said, “Guesthouse.”

I’d never been in the guesthouse, but I’d heard about it—it was why Jesse had always won at elementary school games of hide-and-seek until Mike had figured it out. I nodded, and Jesse held out his hand to help me off the couch. I started to reach for my sweater, but he was already pulling his off, reaching around behind his neck to yank it over his head by the collar. He held it out to me, and I put it on, trying not to be too obvious as I breathed in the smell of him that seemed to permeate the soft gray cashmere. “Won’t you be cold?” I asked as I smoothed my staticky hair down. Jesse was now just in his jeans and a white T-shirt, and it had been below freezing the last two nights.