Jesse's Girl
Page 61
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“I’m scared you’ll freak out again.”
“I’ve had time to think since then…I’ve figured stuff out. It won’t happen again.”
“But what if it does? I’m sick of kissing someone only to find they’ve lost interest ten minutes later.”
“Why do you think I’d do that?” he asks with a hard edge.
I decide to be honest. “You and Nate both hurt me, okay?”
He rocks back onto his knees, his eyebrows pinching together. “I’m nothing like him. I don’t ask girls out very often, you know. I thought you understood I’m serious about this. About you.”
I lean against the stiff headboard. “You haven’t told me that before, so how could I know?”
“Well, I don’t think I should have to pay for Nate’s mistake.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that you put yourself out there with him, and it didn’t pay off. I’ve apologized, and you aren’t giving me another chance because some idiot guy hurt you. I have no idea how he let you go, Maya Henry.”
I cover my face with my pillow. My voice is muffled when I speak. “You can have anybody. Why are you even interested in me?”
His calloused fingers caress my arm. “You’re true to yourself. And you get me. You treat me like I’m real.”
I move the pillow and look up at him. At this beautiful freckle-faced guy with the gorgeous voice and even sweeter heart. I bet it took a lot of courage for him to say that stuff to me. He’s right. I hated it when he compared me to his ex. It’s not fair of me to judge him for what went wrong with Nate. I’ll be alone forever if I compare every guy to Nate. Still, the thought of being in a relationship with Jesse makes me feel nervous, like when I perform a solo. I don’t know if I’ll make it through the song without messing up.
But I want to get onstage.
“What happens with us while you’re on tour?” I ask.
“I’ll be back in six weeks. It’s not forever.”
“It’s still a long time…I barely heard from you when you were gone for ten days. I don’t want to be the girl who sits by the phone waiting. I need to know if you’re going to call me.” My heart’s pounding. I can’t believe I’m putting myself out there like this.
“I can do that,” Jesse says and gently pecks my cheek. “We’ll text and Skype, and when I get back, we’ll figure out the rest.”
“I want that,” I say bravely. “I want to figure us out. I want to know what we are.”
He grins. “I know what I want.”
“Oh yeah?”
Jesse twines his fingers between mine and presses my hands above my head. I shiver as his body covers mine.
“I want another kiss.”
“You’re so demanding,” I say, smiling, giving him exactly what he asked for.
• • •
A few days later before first period, Dave dashes up with his phone. “You have to see this!” He pushes play on a TMZ video.
The voice-over says, “We got Jesse Scott at Miami airport.” The clip shows him making his way through the terminal, reporters circling him like buzzards. The paparazzi ask question after question about the tour and his future plans, but Jesse keeps his mouth shut. Cameras flash in his face. Click, click, click, click. A reporter yells, “Why isn’t Maya Henry on tour with you?”
No answer from Jesse.
“Are you dating Maya?”
No response.
“What does she think of you being seen with Natalia Naylor?”
“Can you give us anything on Maya?”
Jesse stops. The press circles him, and he smiles wickedly at the camera. “If you’re watching this, My, I miss you. You’re my mean, sexy punk girl.”
And when the video flicks off, Dave and I do a little dance in the hallway, chattering about how cute he is, and hope blooms inside me.
That night, I tweet Jesse a picture of me and Dave frowning with a caption that says “We miss you!” and, like, fifty thousand people favorite it. Since I started hanging out with Jesse, I’ve gained over a hundred thousand followers. I know they aren’t following me for me—they just want to see Jesse and me tweet jabs back and forth at each other, but still. It’s pretty cool.
A week into Jesse’s tour, Mom hands me a postcard from Orlando featuring a muscular man in a Speedo. Laughing, I flip it over and read:
Dear M—
Wish you were with me. As you can probably tell from this postcard, I’m having a blast. Aren’t you jealous? :) Please tell Casper I love her, and tell Anna and Dave I said hi. Talk to you tonight.
“I’ve had time to think since then…I’ve figured stuff out. It won’t happen again.”
“But what if it does? I’m sick of kissing someone only to find they’ve lost interest ten minutes later.”
“Why do you think I’d do that?” he asks with a hard edge.
I decide to be honest. “You and Nate both hurt me, okay?”
He rocks back onto his knees, his eyebrows pinching together. “I’m nothing like him. I don’t ask girls out very often, you know. I thought you understood I’m serious about this. About you.”
I lean against the stiff headboard. “You haven’t told me that before, so how could I know?”
“Well, I don’t think I should have to pay for Nate’s mistake.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that you put yourself out there with him, and it didn’t pay off. I’ve apologized, and you aren’t giving me another chance because some idiot guy hurt you. I have no idea how he let you go, Maya Henry.”
I cover my face with my pillow. My voice is muffled when I speak. “You can have anybody. Why are you even interested in me?”
His calloused fingers caress my arm. “You’re true to yourself. And you get me. You treat me like I’m real.”
I move the pillow and look up at him. At this beautiful freckle-faced guy with the gorgeous voice and even sweeter heart. I bet it took a lot of courage for him to say that stuff to me. He’s right. I hated it when he compared me to his ex. It’s not fair of me to judge him for what went wrong with Nate. I’ll be alone forever if I compare every guy to Nate. Still, the thought of being in a relationship with Jesse makes me feel nervous, like when I perform a solo. I don’t know if I’ll make it through the song without messing up.
But I want to get onstage.
“What happens with us while you’re on tour?” I ask.
“I’ll be back in six weeks. It’s not forever.”
“It’s still a long time…I barely heard from you when you were gone for ten days. I don’t want to be the girl who sits by the phone waiting. I need to know if you’re going to call me.” My heart’s pounding. I can’t believe I’m putting myself out there like this.
“I can do that,” Jesse says and gently pecks my cheek. “We’ll text and Skype, and when I get back, we’ll figure out the rest.”
“I want that,” I say bravely. “I want to figure us out. I want to know what we are.”
He grins. “I know what I want.”
“Oh yeah?”
Jesse twines his fingers between mine and presses my hands above my head. I shiver as his body covers mine.
“I want another kiss.”
“You’re so demanding,” I say, smiling, giving him exactly what he asked for.
• • •
A few days later before first period, Dave dashes up with his phone. “You have to see this!” He pushes play on a TMZ video.
The voice-over says, “We got Jesse Scott at Miami airport.” The clip shows him making his way through the terminal, reporters circling him like buzzards. The paparazzi ask question after question about the tour and his future plans, but Jesse keeps his mouth shut. Cameras flash in his face. Click, click, click, click. A reporter yells, “Why isn’t Maya Henry on tour with you?”
No answer from Jesse.
“Are you dating Maya?”
No response.
“What does she think of you being seen with Natalia Naylor?”
“Can you give us anything on Maya?”
Jesse stops. The press circles him, and he smiles wickedly at the camera. “If you’re watching this, My, I miss you. You’re my mean, sexy punk girl.”
And when the video flicks off, Dave and I do a little dance in the hallway, chattering about how cute he is, and hope blooms inside me.
That night, I tweet Jesse a picture of me and Dave frowning with a caption that says “We miss you!” and, like, fifty thousand people favorite it. Since I started hanging out with Jesse, I’ve gained over a hundred thousand followers. I know they aren’t following me for me—they just want to see Jesse and me tweet jabs back and forth at each other, but still. It’s pretty cool.
A week into Jesse’s tour, Mom hands me a postcard from Orlando featuring a muscular man in a Speedo. Laughing, I flip it over and read:
Dear M—
Wish you were with me. As you can probably tell from this postcard, I’m having a blast. Aren’t you jealous? :) Please tell Casper I love her, and tell Anna and Dave I said hi. Talk to you tonight.
