“It won’t.”
Nate smiles and points at me like an MVP as he takes a few steps down the hall, then stops.
“And don’t forget, your name is Tessa.”
“Believe me, Nate, I won’t be forgetting any of this.”
7
Nate
I spend the rest of the week leading up to the big trip arranging for someone to fill in for Jessie at work, and double, triple, and quadruple confirming that Jessie is still coming. I barely get any work done, the big mental countdown in my head distracting my attention like a bikini-wearing rollerblader on Venice Beach.
In case it wasn’t obvious, I hate depending on other people – no matter who they are. The truth is, not many people in my life have been dependable to begin with. On my own I feel like I can move mountains, that there isn’t a goal in this world I can’t achieve. No deal too tough, no woman too unattainable, no obstacle too big. Control. Focus. That’s my philosophy, and I’m proud of it.
Things start to get messy pretty quickly when you depend on others. Even when they’re doing their best, even when people are capable – shit can happen. I trust Jessie more than anyone – probably even more than her brother – but my entire career is in her hands right now, and it’s enough to make my stomach do barrel rolls every time I think of it.
I turn the car onto Jessie’s street and see her standing on the sidewalk, her backpack and an overstuffed duffel sitting on the ground beside her. She’s in short jean cut-offs and a tank top, and my eyes immediately scan her legs with all the tender patience of foreplay. Fuck, does she know she wore those same shorts the night we…? No, probably not, she wears those a lot. Still, maybe she’s trying to send me a message…shit, of course she isn’t, and the last thing I need right now is to start thinking with my dick. I park the car in front of her and she pulls open the passenger door and ducks her head down.
“Just the BMW?” she says, tossing her backpack in the footwell and her duffel in the backseat before climbing in. I keep my eyes on her face. “I thought you’d be bringing your Lamborghini this time.”
“When everyone at the party can afford to be flashy, it’s tacky to actually do so.”
“Right,” Jessie says, nodding sarcastically.
“And besides, I don’t have a Lamborghini – well, not anymore. That’s the kind of detail we still need to iron out before we arrive,” I say, putting the car in gear and pulling away.
“You know, I could swear I saw a French movie once with a plot like this.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It was a French movie.”
She looks at me with a smile and I laugh.
“Well I’m sure they’re going to love you at the retreat – even if they don’t believe you’re actually my fiancée.”
“Fiancée?”
“My boss keeps pressuring me to get married, seeing as we’ve been together for…”
I point at Jessie.
“Three years – I know,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I relax in the seat a little as I stop the car in traffic.
“We really should go over some things. Just to be extra sure.”
Jessie sighs, then turns to face me.
“Okay, tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”
“I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that’s going to help us.”
“But it might. Come on! Weren’t you saying we need to have good ‘rapport’ and seem like we’re really into each other? I’ll go first if you want.”
I glance at her and see the determined look on her face, then shrug.
“Okay. Go first.”
Jessie puts a finger against her lips, a gesture that she’s thinking but which some part of my brain interprets as incredibly fucking sexy. Maybe it’s the fact this at this point on a Friday evening I’m only thinking about one thing, or maybe it’s the way the sunlight catches the curves of her body in a way that draws me in like a moth to a flame.
“How about this,” she says, smiling softly with genuine embarrassment. “I’ve started writing a diary.”
“A diary?”
“Uh huh.”
“Like, ‘Dear Diary, today I got a zit’ – type of thing?”
“Not exactly like that. But yeah, a typical diary. Totally lame.”
“Why do it, then?”
“I dunno. I just went into a card shop the other day, saw they had these really pretty notepads, and bought one. Then I started writing in it. That’s all. It’s kinda therapeutic. I spend every waking moment so busy, it’s really nice to just sit down before bed and think and write. Helps me order my thoughts.”
I nod in appreciation.
“Well I think that’s pretty awesome. Not lame at all.”