“Wait. You met a guy? Are you dating him?” I didn’t like this—at all.
My mom and I were a team. We didn’t need some asshole coming in and screwing everything up.
“I’ve been on a couple of dates with him, yes. He’s really sweet, and he wants to meet you.”
I stared at my mom, really stared. Even though she was close to forty, she was still pretty. Her hair was blonde and curly, like mine, and her eyes were an unusual mix of green and blue. I must have gotten my height from my dad because I stood a few inches over six feet while my mom had barely managed to reach five feet. She was tiny and cute, and I hated this bastard for noticing her.
“I don’t want to meet him. I’m sure he’s an asshole, just like every other guy out there.”
“That’s not fair, Jesse. You can’t judge him before you even give him a chance. He’s been really sweet to me, and it’s been nice to have a guy around.”
“I’m a guy,” I said stubbornly.
“Yes, you are, but it’s nice to have someone besides my seventeen-yearold—”
“I’m almost eighteen. There are only a couple of weeks until my birthday.”
“My apologies. It’s nice to have someone besides my almost eighteen-yearold son to look after me. I’ve been alone for a long time, Jesse.”
I sighed as I put my fork down. I didn’t like the idea of my mom dating some douche canoe, but I didn’t want her to be alone either. “Fine. I’ll meet him, but I’m not promising to like him.”
“That’s all I’m asking of you, but I really do think you’ll like him once you meet him.”
“So, I’m assuming you already told him yes. When are we meeting?”
“Well, the tattoo place is closed on Sundays, so I thought he could come over then, and we could all have lunch together.” “Sounds exciting,” I said sarcastically.
“You’d better not be rude, or I’ll take my mama’s paddle to your ass,” she scolded.
I couldn’t help but laugh. My mom had threatened to use that paddle more times than I could count when I was a kid, but she’d never used it.
I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
I arrived at school early the next morning, hoping to beat Emma there. As soon as I pulled in though, I saw her sitting in her car. I parked next to her and shut off my car.
She smiled and stepped out of her car when she saw me. “Morning,
Jesse.”
I got out and walked around my car to stand beside her. “Morning.”
I knew she was waiting on me to start talking, but I was enjoying watching her squirm too much. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she waited. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“You said you wanted to talk?” she asked.
“Yeah, I did.” I didn’t elaborate. Messing with her was too much fun.
“Okay, about what?” she asked impatiently.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about the fact that you had my car fixed for me. Why would you do that?”
Her eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t have your car fixed.”
“Bullshit. I know it was you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you and Andy were the only ones who knew what was wrong with it. I talked to him last night after I got home from work, and he confirmed that it wasn’t him.”
“Oh,” she said as she looked away.
“Yeah, oh. So, tell me why you did it.”
“Fine. Yes, it was me. I knew you needed help, and I wanted to help you. I heard you talking to Andy about not being able to afford the part, and I didn’t want you to have to worry.”
“You don’t even know me. Why do you even care?” I asked, truly curious as to why she would help me.
“I don’t know. I guess it felt like the right thing to do.”
Wrong answer. I didn’t want to be a charity case for anyone. “So, you did it out of pity?” I asked, getting angry.
“What? No! I just wanted to help a friend.”
“But I’m not your friend. I’m nothing to you.”
“That’s not true! You’re my friend...or at least I thought so.”
“I don’t have friends here.” I knew I was being an asshole, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want the rich girl to befriend me out of pity.
“You would if you tried, but instead of trying to meet new people, you ignore everyone.”
“I’m not here to make friends with the rich kids. I’m here to get good grades and get a scholarship for college.”
“Can’t you do it all at once? I know you well enough already to realize that you always put what you want last. You’re a teenager. You need to have some fun.”
“I have fun,” I replied stubbornly.
“Really? What do you do for fun?”
“I work at the tattoo shop. I consider that fun.”
“See—you work for fun.”
I wanted to beat my head against my Jeep. This conversation was not going where I had planned. “Look, I just wanted to talk to you to thank you for helping me, and I was hoping to repay you in some way. Since we both know that I can’t afford the damn part, I was going to see if you wanted to get something to eat after school.”