Confessions of a Bad Boy

She’s sitting outside on the café’s shade-dappled patio in jean shorts and a torn vintage rock band tee shirt, her favorite outfit. Mine too. I step past the hostess and move toward Jessie, smiling as she notices me. She leaps out of her chair and throws her slender arms around my neck, kissing me on the lips before I can stop her, hard and hungry.

I push her away quickly and start glancing around.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, quickly sliding down into a chair.

“What’s the matter?” she says, frowning as she sits opposite me.

“Someone could see us, Jessie. You know better than that. Shit. Sitting out here in the open, being as hot as you are, kissing me like that – it’s almost like you want us to be found out. Is that what you want?”

She sighs and pouts a little, playing with the straw of her frappucino so she doesn’t have to look at me. I wait for her to speak, and when she doesn’t I call over a waitress to order a coffee.

“Why did you call me to meet here anyway?” I ask, once the waitress is gone. “You know that if your apartment is occupied we can always go to mine.”

She finally looks at me but her face is still stony.

“I wanted to talk,” she says, with a little harshness in her voice.

“Okay,” I nod, sympathetically. “I’m cool with that. What did you want to talk about?”

She drops her gaze again to her straw, though this time it’s because she can’t make eye contact with me, not that she won’t.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“No,” she mumbles. “I just…”

She trails off, leaving the unsaid hanging in the air. I smile a little and lean forward.

“Lorelei told me you were trying for the house again. Is that it? Did they turn you down a second time? She said you reapplied for a bank loan but you expected another rejection. There are other banks, though. I’m sure someone will approve you.”

Jessie sighs and brushes her hair aside.

“Trying to buy the house was a stupid idea.”

“No,” I reply instantly. “It’s sweet. It’ll be a hell of a lot of work fixing it up, but how many properties these days come with a tree house?”

She laughs a little, her lips widening into a deep smile that starts to fade instantly. Something about her is different. Jessie could never hide her emotions, they come to the surface of her smooth skin in flickers and shades, like smooth stones beneath the rippled surface of a pond. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve spent so long staring at her, studying her, appreciating every inch of her, but it’s obvious that she’s troubled.

“It’ll happen,” I continue. “Even if I need to arm wrestle Kyle into co-signing.”

“No…” she says, back to playing with her straw. “It’s not that.”

I ignore her protests. “Maybe you could talk to him about it when he gets back. He might really be into the idea. You know he’s always after what’s best for you.”

Suddenly her eyes immediately lock onto mine, this time with a little narrowed steel.

“So it’s okay for me to lie to him and have him help me buy a house?”

“Whoa,” I say, leaning back in my chair as if blown back by the comment. I wait a moment for the waitress to set my coffee on the table, and as soon as she’s gone I lean in again. “Is this really not about the house? What else is going on?”

“Nothing,” Jessie says, looking down again.

“You can’t lie to me, Jessie,” I say soothingly. “Tell me.”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe we should just tell Kyle, get it all out in the open. I think maybe it’s time to come clean.”

I try not to look like I’ve just witnessed something horrific, and only half succeed.

“Are you serious?”

“Nate—” she says, leaning forward to stop me from losing my shit.

“Come clean about what?” I say, struggling to keep my voice down. “That we’re jumping each other at every opportunity? How? ‘Hey Kyle, we just wanted to tell you that we’ve been fucking like rabbits on Viagra while you’ve been away, okay? See ya’. How exactly do you see that conversation going, Jessie? ’Cause I have a pretty clear idea of what will happen, and it’s not pretty for anybody.”

She folds her arms and sits back. I turn away from her and gaze out onto the street, where people are passing to and fro, engaged in their own conversations, laughing and smiling. Eventually I feel Jessie take my hand. She’s holding it gently. I turn back toward her, knowing it’s a gesture supposed to calm me, to remind me of who we are and the closeness we’ve built, but all it does is make me realize how different we are.

“I just don’t see how we’re supposed to go forward,” Jessie says, softly. “How can we if we’re constantly sneaking around like this?”

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