Page 18 of Show Me 1

“Unless you’re trying to sell a house. At least, that’s what my mom says. She’s a real estate agent.”

Jesse framed his face and puckered his lips at me. “This? This will never be beige.” He snapped his fingers. “You know what would help you a lot? Maybe a selfie stick or one of the anti-shake things to keep the camera still? Because when you’re getting close, sometimes it seems like you go out of your head a little, and it screws up the money shot. And that’s what everyone’s there for, right?”

I snorted. “That won’t work in a public place. I mean, a selfie stick might, but if I need to run, that’s one more thing I have to worry about. I could give it a try, at least. You’ve given this some thought, huh?” I ventured.

“Nah, this is all on the fly.” He waved a hand, then tapped our textbooks. “We need to go back to this before I can’t function.” He pointed a finger at me with a stern frown. “I told you, don’t preen. You’re a dime a dozen.”

Now that part I knew all too well. “I have another question. Why is your Rotel so fucking good?”

Jesse’s furrowed brow smoothed out into a pleased smile. “I won’t tell you the secret, but I’ll show you sometime. Then you can make the next batch for the house and I’ll resent you a millimeter less when I open the fridge and it’s gone.”

“Did you really resent me?”

“Nah. I’m a good fucking cook, like you say. Can’t blame you.” He smirked.

6

Jesse

“Is anyone sitting here?”

I tensed and turned slowly in Reid’s direction, treating him to my best dismissive eye flick despite the pang that echoed hollowly in my chest. Three years later, and the bitterness was like a rind of burned sugar in my chest. Nothing I wanted to eat, but it was still sugar. That I still found him attractive, even if only objectively, was annoying. If it’d been up to me, humans would’ve come with a built-in overwrite button that you could press after a breakup. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Reid’s smile wobbled briefly, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam coming through the door with his football cronies.

I shrugged. “It’s a free country. Oh, hey, Lee!” I waved to Question Guy, whose name I’d finally gotten, as he shuffled toward the front and swooped some hair from his forehead. “Do you know Reid? He’s on the football team.” There, Reid could deal with Lee, who actually was all right, aside from the question thing.

“Football?” Lee said as Reid acknowledged him with a nod and shot me a glare.

“Yeah, you know. Helmets and head injuries. That kind of thing. Reid has taken a few hits, but as long as you use words that are two or less syllables, he’s totally fine. What?” I smiled sweetly at Reid and then smacked the side of my head dramatically. “Oh, duh. Right, that was sil-lah-buhls. It means—”

“Let’s get started!” Professor Horton clapped his hands, and Reid, unbelievably, dropped into the seat beside me.

I started to turn a scathing look on him before deciding the best tactic was just to ignore him. It was difficult, though, because he kept trying to get my attention when the professor turned away. When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I pulled it out and set it on my thigh, angling away from him as I opened the message, relieved for a distraction.

Sam:Hey.

Jesse:Hey.

Our study session had happened five days ago, and I guess it had cleared the air somewhat, because I didn’t feel as awkward around him now. He also hadn’t been around that much either, and sure, maybe I’d wondered a couple of times—or 999—if he’d ended up getting a selfie stick and trying it out. But I hadn’t looked, and I wasn’t going to.

Five minutes passed with no follow-up after his first text. What the fuck? Had my signal dropped? I checked and found five juiced-up bars.

Jesse:What?

Sam:What?

I tossed a glance over my shoulder toward his seat. He smiled at me. I shook my head and turned back.

He had to be fucking with me.

Jesse:You texted me.

Sam:Yeah. I said hey.

Jesse:And?

Sam:That’s it.