“You’re probably right,” I offer, more to appease her than anything else.
I pull into the Timms’ driveway and park my car out front, out of the way for other arrivals which I hope are arriving soon. Very soon.
Jessie and Brandt are not back yet.
“You’re going to lose her, you know,” Missy snaps, swinging the passenger door wide open but not getting out of the car.
“What?” It’s hard to listen to Missy talk when I’m trying not to think about where Jessie is and what she might be doing.
“You’re. Going. To. Lose. Her. She’s fed up with you. I can tell. You need to make your move. Or at least make a move. God, men are such shitheads.” After sharing that eloquent statement, Missy steps out of the car and continues to chain smoke while standing aimlessly on the Timms’ lawn and looking incredibly out of place.
Where the fuck are they? Where? There’s nowhere to go in Bigsby, nowhere to go in Central Creek, and really nothing else around for miles worth mentioning at all unless you go to Denver.
Did they go to Denver? Jessie is a spur of the moment, seat of your pants type of girl. I wouldn’t put it past her, especially if she likes Brandt.
And does she like Brandt? It certainly seemed like she did at dinner, but then again, if we were judging things based off of dinner, it would also seem that I was pretty into the hot mess standing in the grass, smoking her lungs black, and trying not to cry.
“Shit.” I actually say it out loud.
If Jessie really is waiting for me to make a move, I’d made the wrong fucking one. Instead of telling her how much she means to me, I’d blatantly showed her how much I like someone else. I’d also showed her that I cared so little for her in any romantic sense, that I saw nothing wrong with flirting my ass off right in front of her with another girl. That was the biggest “we’re just buddies” signal you could give to a girl. Flirt with her friend.
Right in front of her.
Maybe Missy is right. Maybe I am going to lose Jessie.
But not if I can stop it.
I’ll simply tell her. Tonight. I’ll tell her how I feel, what I want, and not hide one damn thing from her. Lay my heart out like an idiot in love.
Which is what I am, apparently.
Screw Brandt. I don’t care what they’re doing. He has nothing on my two plus decades of incredibly tight friendship.
But I do care what they are doing. I care a lot.
“Where do you think they went?” I ask the question out loud without really meaning to.
Missy glares at me with what I’m pretty sure is pure hatred. “I don’t know where the fuck they went, Payden. That wasn’t really my concern tonight. Didn’t seem like yours either. You do realize we are supposed to be on a date, right?”
I put a tired hand to my forehead. “Yes. I’m sorry that didn’t work out.”
“I think you knew it wasn’t gonna work out the second you agreed to go. You didn’t come for me. I’m not fucking stupid.” Missy flicks her butt away and lights a fresh cigarette.
“I told you I’m sorry about that. I mean it. There’s not really anything else I can say, right?” I study her, puffing away like it’s 1955 and no one knows a damn thing about the consequences of smoking. “Do you always smoke this much?”
Missy throws her hands up in the air and lets out an actual scream. I glance at the Timms house. Annette is going to come charging out here any minute now. I’m pretty sure this scene isn’t going to help the way she already feels about me.
“Will you stop talking? Please? You’re horrible at talking!” Missy flings the insult into the sky, not even looking in my direction.
“I’m aware,” I mutter, leaning against my car and staring at the road.
Come on, Jess. Where are you? You really wanna be out with that dude? Because I think you want something else. Someone else.
As though I’d magically drawn them to me, Brandt’s sedan comes around a curve in the road, and he abruptly slows his car to make a grandma turn into the driveway.
The wave of relief that washes over me nearly makes me dizzy.
She’s back. And just a mere ten minutes (it felt more like ten hours) after Missy and I had returned, meaning she couldn’t have possibly done anything too extreme.
I hope.
Judging from the frustrated look on Brandt’s face when he exits his vehicle, I don’t have anything to worry about. And Jessie looks relieved to be out of that car. She immediately surveys the situation before her, Missy off by herself, still smoking, me glued to my car… miserable.
Maybe I just want to see it, but I swear a brief flash of happiness passes over Jessie’s face before she squares her shoulders and walks over to her friend. Of course, she’s going console Missy, that’s what’s expected, I think, amongst girls.
If Brandt thinks he’s going to get any sympathy hugs out of me he can just think again, but it’s pretty obvious that Brandt wants nothing to do with me at all. He won’t even make eye contact, which is a far cry from his behavior at dinner.
“Firepit!” Jessie exclaims suddenly. All three of us turn to stare at her, incredulous that she can possibly want to prolong this evening’s boat of awkwardness. “I’ll make some margaritas and we can sit around the firepit.”
She grabs Missy by the arm and the two girls go inside immediately. I figure Brandt has no idea what to do with himself, and I almost feel bad for the guy.
“Want me to show you where the firepit is?” I offer, mostly out of obligation.
Brandt chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “Of course you know where it is. You probably know when she lost her first tooth and got her period.”
I am pretty sure those two things had happened on separate days, but regardless, I’m not sure of the exact dates. However, I am positive that Brandt is being a smartass.
I’m more positive that I don’t want to get into some weird brawl with the guy on Jessie’s front lawn, that definitely won’t help me out with Annette.
I saunter around the giant house. I can hear Brandt following behind me, which he probably hates to do. But then again, what else can he do at this point?
We each take a lawn chair about as far apart as possible. Neither of us have to say anything. Our tension is obviously caused by the beautiful girl carrying out a tray of jumbo margaritas. Just as promised.
Missy follows behind her, holding the tequila bottle and taking a swig or two every so often. She is about as sullen as a girl can be without actually scowling. I can only imagine the guilt trip she’s already given Jessie for setting us up.
I wondered what Jessie’s defense had been. Or if she had one at all.
The girls are both still dressed to the nines, and after about ten minutes of everyone staring at the fire and slurping sickeningly sweet fruity drinks in silence, I can’t take it anymore. The sun is going down, and I feel my time running out.
“Jess, you wanna take a walk?” I try to say it quietly, she’s sitting beside me so I don’t exactly need to yell, but Brandt and Missy both clearly heard me.
If looks could kill, I might be meeting my mother tonight.
Jessie, however, is more than happy to oblige. I wonder if she’s spent the evening feeling as trapped as I have.
I’ll find out. I’ll find out everything, and I’ll tell her everything... And if it’s all too much then she can go back to college and think it over. We can talk about it at Thanksgiving or something.