Ch. 63 Lavender and Lemon

I get to leave work early

because it's such a slow day.

I was happy to volunteer to go

because I couldn't focus on work anyway.

I sit outside on the curb,

waiting for Johnny's car to appear in the parking lot.

I could have been picked up

over half an hour ago,

but that would involve calling my mom

and asking her to come get me.

And I don't think either of us want that.

So I sit and wait,

and kick up gravel with the toes of my sneakers,

and trace over the cracks in the sidewalk with my finger,

and hum senseless tunes to myself.

I'm pulling on the little bits of grass

poking out between the concrete,

when the automatic doors sllliiidddeee open behind me.

I can feel him standing behind me

and I see his shadow turning my legs dark.

I know it's him without having to look

because I recognize the smell of his cologne

and know it's him because I bought it for him for his birthday.

I rub my nose,

trying to brush away the smell of lavender and lemon.

"What do you want, Jesse?"

"I can't just stand here?"

"No,"

I say loudly.

"It's creepy and you're blocking my sun."

He laughs and I see his shadow move.

But he doesn't leave.

He does the opposite and sits down next to me instead.

I sigh and press the bottoms of my palms to my eyes.

I feel nauseous

and have that sinking feeling in my stomach

that I've been feeling since the accident

whenever I see Jesse.

"God, Jesse," I murmur.

"Go home."

But he doesn't move.

All that makes him do is laugh.

"Don't be so mean, Short-stack,"

he says.

"I just want to talk.

I never see you anymore."

"Because you're not worth seeing."

His smile fades

and he starts picking up little pieces of gravel

off the pavement and throwing them towards the cars.

He clears his throat.

"I saw you earlier with your mom.

Everything okay?"

Of course not,

I say to myself.

I don't say anything out loud.

Instead,

I draw my legs up and wrap my arms around them

because I suddenly feel cold.

"You were throwing out a few choice words,"

he says, trying to smile,

trying to make me smile.

But neither of us do.

He clears his throat again.

He does that

when he's not really sure what to say.

"If you want to talk about it," he says.

"I'll listen."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Author's Note

Thanks for reading!
--theladygraceling

Reviews

[Fenix Flight]

oooo now I'm intrigued!! I want to know Jesse's story!!!