Page 39 of Ablaze

A twinge of panic and guilt stabs my chest, making me wince. “I have plans with Warren, but . . .” I give him a hopeful look.

If Warren is going to be in my life, then I really need my best friend on board. I get that he isn’t happy about me dating him–his reasons are his own–but he did say he’d do anything for me, even if he had to pretend to like him. And maybe if they hang out a few times, he won’t have to pretend anymore.

I know Warren can feel Dean’s unease around him, and though he hasn’t asked exactly why my best friend seems to run like his ass is on fire at the sight of him, I can tell it bothers him.

Warren is a nice guy–someone not afraid of opening up about his feelings. And while I don’t have the wild and crazy wave of bubbles inside my stomach, or a tortuous need to know what he’s doing all the time–whether he’s thinking about me or not–I’ve started to really care for him.

Could I see myself with him forever?

Maybe?

And that maybe is a possibility my best friend needs to come to terms with.

I clear my throat softly. “Any chance he could join–”

“Oh.” Dean catches himself from rearing back but not before giving away the fact that he’s been caught off guard. “Uh, well–”

“Now, I don’t mean to brag, but I’m not a half-bad kayaker myself,” Jessie cuts in, getting both our attention. She shrugs. “I mean, I do have the weekend off and well . . .” Her eyes bounce from Dean to me. “I’m not meanin’ to intrude, but three is just never a good number. Well, not unless you’re intendin’ to have a threesome–”

My face heats at the same time as it pales. Is that even possible?

I’m glaring at her in an effort to make her stop speaking, but also in an effort to not look at Dean.

“–in which case it’s the perfect number!” Jessie’s face picks up color, drowning out the smattering of freckles on her nose. It’s as if she realizes she’s developed diarrhea of the mouth but can’t seem to stop. Jesus Christ. The woman is a danger to herself. “Not that I’m suggestin’ you’re tryin’ to have a threesome or anythin’. Goodness me! My mouth is runnin’ like a boardin’ house toilet today! Just sayin’–”

“Yeah, uh, why don’t you join us, uh . . .” Dean saves us all from the epic disaster of having to listen to her finish her thought, giving Jessie a quizzical look. His eyes dip down to the name tag affixed on her bountiful chest. “Jessie?” He turns to me. “Is that okay with you, sprinkles?”

I feel like I’ve been sold something way over the sales price, but I don’t know what it is or even how I could return it. “Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”

Jessie gleams from ear to ear. “Really? I mean, I’ll have to check my calendar, but lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be there.”

* * *

“Hey.”

I look up from my laptop where I was submitting the inventory to see Jessie standing inside the kitchen with her enormous purse hanging off her shoulder. She’s changed into a snug, low-cut black T-shirt with the word Huxley’s Casino written across it in sparkly red lettering, along with tight-fitted black slacks that look like they might be constricting her blood flow.

“Hey. Heading out?”

“Fixin’ to, yeah.” She looks out the windows, eyeing the streetlights outside before facing me again. “Hey, um, I didn’t mean to invite myself to y’all’s kayakin’ thing earlier. I . . . I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually come off that desperate and brazen, but your friend,” she throws a thumb over her shoulder as if Dean was still standing on the same spot out in the café three hours later, “well, he’s finer than a frog’s hair, is what he is. He sorta just turned me into a blathering idiot, and I overstepped.” She looks down at her black sneakers. “I’m real sorry about that. Come to find out, I’m busy this weekend, so–”

“Jessie,” I interrupt her, because if I don’t, I’m not sure she’ll take another breath. “You are welcome to come this weekend. In fact, it might help to have you there.” You know, since my best friend seems to hate my boyfriend and anything to ease that tension would be great.

I don’t explain why, but Jessie seems to have caught on. “Yeah?” She smiles. “Super! I’d really like that.”

I go back to looking at my computer screen, feeling a mix of emotions stir in my chest.

She clearly likes Dean–her words said as much–and I’m with Warren. And I plan to continue to be with Warren. So, why is her roundabout admission feeling like dead weight around my ankles? Why do I have this intense need for her to leave–get out of here, so I can breathe? It’s like her presence is filling up the entire room.

I want to be the type of friend who could be a wing-woman for my best friend. I want to be able to giggle with Jessie, give her ideas on how to win him over, and bounce on my feet when it all works out.

But the doom and gloom spreading inside me, discoloring the blood in my system, won’t let me.

It’s as if I can feel what’s coming. Like it’s written as clear as day.

And why shouldn’t it? Dean deserves to be happy. And as much as I wish it could have been with me . . .

No.

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