Messy hair entangles me, Jesse’s heavy arm draped over my body. The sky outside is completely black, but I don’t need light to know what the man next to me looks like.
The profile of his nose, his strong jaw, and the dimple on his chin. And his full lips, which part as he breathes deeply; it’s allingrained in my mind. I could draw him from memory, down to the little scar above his eyebrow.
The rise and fall of his chest are more prominent than the last time I lay here with him, but I still trace the valleys and peaks with my fingertips. Gently, like he might disappear if I push too hard.
His dark brows are furrowed, and a piece of me aches. The same piece of me that ached the day I found out what his life was like at home, the same piece that wanted nothing more than to protect him.
Carefully, I prop myself up on my elbows. I don’t want to wake him, but I can’t stop myself from running my fingers lightly through his hair.
Now that I’ve touched him, I feel like I can’t stop.
He’s chipping away at my resolve, and it both enlivens and terrifies me. There’s so much left unsaid, so much I still don’t understand about our breakup.
I just know that after what happened tonight between us, there’s no going back to pretending there was nous.
I can still be angry at him for what happened ten years ago, but a line was crossed. A very vulnerable, raw line.
When I trace his lips, his eyes flicker open.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He smiles, but then footsteps sound in the foyer, and I lunge over Jesse, grabbing his phone to check the time.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I whisper, my voice hoarse from sleep.
It’s almost nine.
Jesse’s eyes trace my frantic movements, but he doesn’t look nearly as panicked as I feel. My bare feet hit the wooden floors next to the bed, and the chilly air of the house quickly wakes me from my daydream as I search for my clothes in the dark.
“Hey, you guys up there?” Fia’s sing-song voice travels up the stairwell.
Without another look at Jesse, I forfeit the search and dart out of his room, sliding into the bathroom just as Fia reaches the top of the steps.
“Penny?” Her voice is muffled behind the door, and my pulse steadies.
Way too close.
I hear the telltale signs of Tank’s pitter-patter as he smooshes his nose into the door, sniffing loudly. I need to talk to Jesse about his manners, he is always trying to follow everyone into the bathroom.
“I’m in here, just about to shower!” I yell, shrill as hell. I hurry up and turn on the faucet.
“Okay! Well, I’m home! Where’s Jesse?” Fia’s leaning against the bathroom door.
This is what happens when you grow up sharing a bathroom with a sister. Privacy is a foreign policy.
“He’s probably sleeping, I don’t know, I just came home from a walk,” I blatantly lie and jump into the shower, recoiling as the old pipes spew out lukewarm water.
Fia’s footsteps fade down the hallway, and I sigh, leaning my head against the shower wall as water rushes down my face.
After a solid minute of deep breathing, I open my eyes.
Only to see handprint bruises on my thighs and hickeys lining my chest.
I exhale a chuckle and shake my head.
Audrey was right—I am so screwed.
30
