Jesse's Girl

Chapter 27

        This was bad. This was very, very bad.

    I stood in front of the mirror of the upstairs bathroom, trying to find reasons to walk out. He didn’t make me nervous. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

    He can’t!

    I’m just on edge, that’s all. The only kiss I’ve received from a boy who wasn’t related to me was in elementary, and I had to do it. I had to! Margaret O’ Donald made sure as to steal my crayons without me knowing, and all I knew was that he had the sixty-four pack!

        You’re just overreacting.

    Of course I’m overreacting. I’m always overreacting.

    I groaned, letting my head fall forward, so that it made a soft thump against the mirror.

    This is a disaster.

        When had you become so weak?

    I bit my lip. It tended to tingle every now and then – and I despised it.

    With a deep breath, I backed up and opened the door. As I descended the stairs, I looked over through the archway leading to the kitchen. My Mom was on the phone, glancing down frequently at a magazine in her hand, while my Dad was at the table trying to out beat the daily crossword in the newspaper.

    With a sigh, I continued past the archway and opened the front door. I was walking down the porch steps when I noticed something was off.

    My Mom’s car was meant to be parked in the garage, seeing as though it was probably the most expensive. My Dad’s truck was always parked along the street, and mine was usually the only one on the driveway.

   The thing off, was that Jesse never gave me my keys back… because I stormed off too soon as to even give him a chance – either way, I walked home yesterday. So I was taken aback when I saw my car parked in front of the house.

    Acting out of common sense, my eyes shot to the street, and I noticed another car on the side of the road beside my Dad’s. Seeing the flashy black paint of the car – it was a wonder as to why I missed it. There was a shape of a person leaning against the door, also.

    My thoughts clouded.

        Not now.

    He seemed to be in a daze – staring blindly at the house next door that I once told him was mine, but then he shifted his stare up once he heard the door shut behind me. Like yesterday, he leaned away from the car quickly and took small steps toward me.

    I glanced at my car, establishing what he had done. “You didn’t have to do that.”

    He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know if you had a ride or not, so I figured I’d drop it off.”

    As he spoke, he raised my keys in front of me. A small part – a very small part – was almost fearful of grabbing them. I swallowed it, tightening my lips, reaching out to take them hesitantly.

    He didn’t release them immediately, but instead, held them longer – letting the small object hold us close. After a long minute, he finally freed them, meeting my eyes before backing up.

        “I’ll see you later,” he muttered, turning back to his car.

    I stared after him, toying with the keys dangling from my finger, and tried to think fast.

    I felt bad, there was no denying it. He went through waking up early – mostly likely – to drop off my car, have someone to drop his off, and then he had to wait outside until I mustered up the courage to walk out of my bathroom.