Page 20 of The Fire Walker
“Dee, you made me talk about shit all the time when Will”—she smiled up at him— “gave me the runaround. You can tell me if something’s messing withyou.”
“Nothing’s messing with me,” I blatantly lied. I didn’t know why I wanted to keep things from Zoe. Maybe it was a strength thing. I’d never really had any massive problems before. None that needed a deep and meaningful conversation and especially about crap that didn’t need to be said in front ofWill.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll talklater.”
“I’m busylater.”
She turned to face me, a knowing look on her face. “Really? Doingwhat?”
“I’m goingout.”
“WithJessie?”
“What are you now, mymom?”
“Nice work.” Will fist bumped me, earning him an elbow in the gut fromZoe.
“Where are yougoing?”
Ishrugged.
“You haven’t thought about where you’re takingher?”
I shrugged again. I was too busy compiling a list of conversation topics because if I winged that part of the date, I’d be a blubberingidiot.
“Dee.”
“I’ll work it out. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m not out to be something I’m not, and something I’m not is aplanner.”
For the second time in as many days, we sat in the back of a taxi all the way back into central LA, my mind all over theplace.
“Just be yourself,” Zoe said. “That’s why we love you. It’s whyIloveyou.”
“Be myself,huh?”
“You’re a good guy,” Will put in. “If she can’t see it, thenmeh.Depends on how much you wanther.”
Well, I’d soon find out. By the time we got back to the hotel, I wouldn’t have much time to contemplate it, let alone have ashower.
“Advice is taken into consideration,” I said. If there was one thing I was good at, it was beingmyself.
Room307.
I stared at the gold numbers on the door and took a deep breath. Checking my phone again, it told me it was six fifty-nine. I knocked before I could back out, then rubbed my sweaty palms against myjeans.
The door opened a moment later, and I almost swallowed my tongue. Jessie stood there smiling up at me, and I was gobsmacked. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but my mind waserased.
She was wearing tight black pants and a dark gray shirt with studs around the collar, sleeveless so her tattoo was on full show. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. Her hair was all done up with little pieces trailing around her face and neck, the kind that begged to be tucked behind her ear as an excuse to run my hand across her cheek. She looked stunning, and I suddenly felt way underdressed in my black jeans, slouchy white T-shirt, and denimjacket.
“Hey,” she said, her perfume wafting out into the hall and smacking me around the face. All vanilla andspice.
“Hey.” For added awkward points, I added, “You look nice.” Out of all the words in the fucking dictionary, I chosenice?
She stifled a laugh, her eyes narrowing. “Thanks.”
“Are youready?”
“Yep. Have you decided on a place?” she asked, closing the door behindher.
