Chapter 11
GO TO BED AT ELEVEN, but get up at eleven thirty, when it becomes obviousI that all the blankets in the Western Hemisphere are not going to warm me up.
I don’t know what my problem is. The thermostat is working fine, which means that the temperature in the room should be perfectly pleasant. And yet, my bones seem to have turned into ice, cooling me from the inside out until I can’t lie between the sheets without shivering. Maybe I’m losing my mind.
Maybe it’s an omen of imminent death. Either way, I’m considering locking myself in the bathroom and running the blow-dryer, just to let my half-frozen brain cells thaw, when I remember the existence of the hot tubs.
There are two. The one closest to my room is, I immediately realize, an absolute no-go: Shannon and Ethan are in it, alone, sitting inappropriately close and whispering giggled nothings in each other’s ears. Joining them for what is clearly foreplay would traumatize me for life, and my therapy bill is
already high enough.
Pass.
I pad my way to the other tub, teeth chattering as the cold air drifts in the folds of my bathrobe. I find that one occupied, too. Otto, Mike, and Jesse are sitting in it, steam wafting between them as they talk about something that looks serious and maybe work-related.
What a choice I am confronted with. I could either chance Shannon and Ethan doing it in front of my very eyes, or spend an as-yet-undetermined amount of time witnessing Mike moon over Otto, Otto tolerate being mooned over, and Jesse…
I don’t know. I have no idea what Jesse does. Things are too complicated with him at the moment, and I’m still reeling with what he told me earlier today, so I decide to silently tiptoe away from the deck.
But.
“Hey, Viola.” Mike waves at me with a smile. “You came to soak with us!”
Fuck. “Um, hey. Actually, I was just going to—”
“You can sit over here.” He scoots over, making room on his right. It has the clear advantage of putting him very close to Otto’s thigh, while ensuring that I’ll be sitting…right next to Jesse, of course.
Shit.
“Right. Thank you, Mike.”
The water is heaven—if heaven were a delightfully warm pool shared with somewhat questionable company. Although maybe I’m judging the guys too harshly? Mike seems happy to have me around, and even Otto waves at me like he could conceivably imagine enjoying my presence, which makes up for the perennial grimace on his face.
Jesse noticeably averts his gaze the moment I start taking off my bathrobe, and doesn’t look back at me until I’m in the water up to my collarbone. Then it’s short, furtive glances that don’t quite seem to know where to land, as though he’s afraid I’m not wearing a swimsuit or something.
Bet you’d hate that, huh? is my first, automatic, confrontational thought.
The one informed by the anger and hurt I’ve cradled since the mistletoe incident. But it falls apart the second I recall recent revelations.
Actually, maybe you wouldn’t hate that. Maybe you wouldn’t mind?
Maybe you’d even… That’s it. I need to stop. I’m overthinking this for no reason. Jesse simply can’t see very well, since his glasses are off again. And he’s too busy
arguing with Otto over who knows what.
“It’s actually way better than 4—”
Jesse snorts. “Please.”
“The map is more postapocalyptic, and the leveling is more interesting than the perk system”—another snort, but Otto ignores him and continues —“and the crafting is far superior.”
“Doesn’t matter, since the story is so weak.”
“It doesn’t need a strong story, because—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Are you guys talking about Fallout 76?”
They both turn to me. “Yes,” Otto says, sounding exceedingly British and bored. “Jesse wouldn’t know a good game if it bit him in the arse.”
I laugh in his face. “Are you kidding me? Fallout’s a nightmare. It has no story, no NPCs, no VATS.”
“Buggy as hell,” Jesse adds, looking mildly nauseous.
“Oh, god, yes. Why did they rush it out? It’s unfixable at this point.”
“Multiplayer is not that good, either.”
“Right—everyone’s so spread out. I’ve been shot, maybe once?”
“For real. And it’s dull, no dialogue interactions to manipulate—”
“—right, you’re just wandering around, with no consequences to your actions.”
“I don’t understand why so many people love it.”
“Me neither! It’s the most overrated—”
Otto rises abruptly to his feet, splashing all of us with hot water. “I’m going to bed,” he says crisply, looking between us with narrowed eyes. “And you two are idiots.”
He gets out of the tub with an unexpected amount of grace. I blink at the sudden reveal of his rosy, freckled skin, and am wondering whether I should apologize when Mike, too, stands.
Unlike Otto, he keeps the splashing to a minimum. “Um—I’m gonna go, too. It’s getting late and all that, so…”
He vanishes, all but running after Otto, before we can wish him a good night.
I turn to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What—what just happened?”
“An impressive display of emotional maturity?” He shrugs, and it’s impossible not to notice how broad his shoulders are. The shift of his muscles under the wet skin of his chest.
“Is Otto mad? Did I just single-handedly undo the truce between Nephilim and FlyButter by telling the objective truth about Fallout?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. His grudges aren’t very long-lasting. And he’s probably been masterminding this for a while.”
“Masterminding what?”
“An excuse to get some time alone with Mike. Without letting Mike know that he was initiating it, of course.”
“You think so?”
“I definitely wouldn’t put it past him.”
“So—do you think he’s still into Mike?”
Jesse tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well, over the years they’ve been on and off about forty times, and whenever they’re broken up Mike is a mess, but Otto is always…he never seems upset. I kind of assumed that all of Mike’s pining was one-sided.”
“Are you kidding?” He snorts. “Otto’s obsessed. He’s very good at hiding any kind of emotion that isn’t anger or scorn, but you should see him when he’s drunk. He talks about Mike like it’s an Olympic sport. He once made me read the poetry he wrote about Mike’s calves.”
“Was it good?”
Jesse winces. Visibly.
“Yeah. I don’t even know why I asked.”
“You know Mike’s family is from Guatemala, right?”
I nod.
“Otto is trying to learn Spanish to make a good impression on them.”
“No way!”
“He’s being tutored by a multilingual sixteen-year-old who insists on calling him Ocho and forces him to sing the number song every session.”
“Oh my god.” I laugh into my palm. Should I tell Mike about this? It’s absurd, all this unacknowledged mutual pining. “Why don’t they just…stay together, if they like each other so much?”
“I’m not sure they are aware of where the other stands.”
“Why don’t they communicate, then?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple, Viola.” His smile is small, and something about it hits too close to home, reminding me of the conversations he and I had yesterday and…was it really just this morning?
Uneasiness sweeps over me, carried by the sudden awareness that with Otto and Mike gone, there are fifty percent fewer people in this hot tub. The air is thick with steam and discomfort, and Jesse and I no longer need to be this close. I should scoot over and sit across from him. But I’m afraid that it might seem like a rejection of sorts, and…that’s not what I want.
Ask him, urges the voice that dwells inside my head. Ask him if something changed in the past year. Ask him if he still likes you. Tell him that before he humiliated you in front of your loud, inappropriate family, you used to have a crush on him. Tell him about the sex dreams— What? No.
I mentally club the voice with an imaginary baseball bat, forcing it to shut up. I’m not subjecting poor Jesse to a nonconsensual recap of my horny subconscious. Instead, I swallow, bite the inside of my cheek, and search for something to fill the silence. “So. Tell me what your favorite games are at the moment.”
Jesse smiles. His gaze wanders away, to the dark forest and the white tops of the tall pine trees, and I immediately miss it. “This feels like a trick question.”
“Yeah, a bit. I can go first, if you want,” I offer.
“Please, do.” His eyes are back on me. Suddenly, I can’t remember what being cold feels like.
“I’m going to start with Red Dead Redemption 2, of course—I know you’ve played that one. With and without the corollary drinking game, I assume.”
He frowns. “You know—I hate that stupid drinking game so much, and so does Otto. But every time we play it, Ashley is the last one standing by a fucking mile, and every time we tell ourselves that we need a rematch.”
I bite back a laugh. Should I reveal Ashley’s secret? Nah. Some things Jesse will need to find out for himself. “I believe in you. Never give up on your dreams.” I lift my hand out of the tub, meaning to pat his shoulder, but
realize at the last minute that touching him here and now might not be a good idea. My hand hovers awkwardly an inch from his glistening skin before dropping back underwater—and Jesse looks at my movements the whole time.
I clear my throat. “Hmm, my second-favorite game is probably Bloodborne.”
“Good one. It was my reason to live for a couple years.”
“Same here. And then…” I bite my lower lip. “How weird would it be if I said Zephyr’s Blade?” It’s Jesse’s most recent game. And it’s so good; when it first came out I wanted to punch my own eyes from jealousy—and to cry joyful tears because it existed.
“I don’t know.” Jesse looks at me, amused. “Are you going to say Zephyr’s Blade?”
I pretend to think about it. “I guess I could. The problem is, I heard that game won a quadrillion awards, and I’m not sure it needs more attention.”
“Maybe it wants more attention. Specifically, your attention.”
“Does it?”
Jesse nods. A bit eagerly.
“Well, it’s a young game. Still growing. Wouldn’t want all the spoiling to mess it up. Therefore, as my third choice, I’ll pick Persona—”
He makes a face and huffs.
“What?” I ask, defensive. “Persona’s good!”
“It has a high school setting,” he says flatly.
“Right. Which makes it excellent.”
“It makes it dumb.”
I gasp.
“Viola, the whole storyline feels like a soap opera, and the world- building is just dull.”
“Oh my god, you’re so wrong.” I stand up—and immediately begin shivering in the cold, but power through. “I am going to bed,” I proclaim haughtily in a pseudo-British accent, attempting my best Otto impression.
“And you”—I point at Jesse—“are an idiot.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Get back in.” His hand comes up to my wrist and tugs me down. “You’re one giant goose bump.”
I’m not certain what happens after that. Maybe it’s Jesse’s pull, or the heat fuzzing up my head, or the slippery floor of the tub. I lose my balance— which is a totally normal thing. It has happened to me a million times.
Absolutely nothing weird about that.
Nothing, except for the spot where I land.
It’s not quite an embrace, but I’m draped awkwardly over Jesse, one arm around his neck while the other holds on to his shoulder for balance. Any other time I’d think that my right breast pushing against his naked chest through my bikini top is very unfortunate, but today I have a more pressing problem.
An unmistakably pressing problem, right where my ass meets Jesse’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, scrambling to push away. But that only makes the flesh of my ass drag against his front, and what’s happening down there is… unequivocal. Unmissable. And Jesse must know that, because it’s big.
Huge.
“I…” I can think of absolutely nothing to say. I settle for repeating, “I…”
Jesse’s eyes close, and stay closed as his cheeks color, as he takes a deep breath, as he tells me, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” His hand moves up to support my lower back in a gesture that doesn’t seem fully voluntary. I think he’s making an effort to remain completely immobile, but I feel him vibrating tightly with some sort of tension that… My heart explodes in a gallop. My stomach floods with heat. We are barely touching, and I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.
“So.” My voice is a breathy, shaky attempt at humor. “You do like me.”
His eyes close. “Viola. You have no fucking idea what I feel for you.”
This has to be one of those dreams I’ve been having. It’s the only possible explanation for the way I decide to respond by wiggling my ass in his lap. But when he feels me move, his lips part to let out a gasp, and his grip hurts for a second.
“Still?” I ask, unable to help myself.
He finally opens his eyes. “Mm?” He is not breathing normally, like people usually do when they’re sitting still. And neither am I.
“Well, I know you used to be into me when we first met, and maybe… maybe last year, for the mistletoe. But I wasn’t sure if you still…”
“Yes. Still.” He leans forward. His mouth comes to rest on my collarbone. Not a kiss, but his lips move softly as he speaks against my skin.
“I doubt I’ll ever stop. Viola, you might want to…move away.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t…”
I think he does. He does a lot, and this is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me. Bar none. “It’s okay.” I settle more comfortably on him, feeling his cock twitch. His expression, the way his eyes widen and then almost roll back in his head, it’s out of this world. “I don’t mind.”
His hand tightens involuntarily on my lower back. “You don’t?”
“No.” No one has ever looked at me this way. Like I could make or break them. Like they don’t think they deserve me, but oh, they want me.
“No, I really don’t, and—”
The glass door opens, and the noise is so loud, it startles both of us. I’m not sure who breaks apart first, but the result is the same: One second there is no space between Jesse and me, and the next I’m staring at him from across the tub. We turn at the same time, finding Mike waving at us from the deck entrance.
“I forgot my room key,” he says, slightly dejected.
My heart pounds against my ribs. I need Mike to leave. I need to know what happens next between Jesse and me. I need it right now.
“Are you guys going to bed, too?” Mike asks.
No, I scream inside my head. There’s still heat pulsating sweetly at the base of my stomach, coiling tight inside me.
No, we’re staying here. We’re finishing this.
But Jesse says, “We were about to,” and lifts himself out of the tub.
I stare at the way the water trickles down his chest and thighs, and it definitely doesn’t help things. He finds his glasses and slides them on in a
gesture that by now is so recognizably Jesse, I…Have I ever found someone this attractive? “Here.” He holds the bathrobe out to me, never meeting my
eyes.
“Thanks.”
Look at me, I order him silently. Just—look at me. We can continue this upstairs. We can talk about it. We can do whatever we want.
Jesse nods, walking toward the glass door. “I’m gonna stop by the kitchen and get some water first. See you guys tomorrow.”
“Good night,” Mike tells him, strolling closer to me, waiting for Jesse to be out of earshot before adding, “Hey, sorry for leaving you guys alone. It didn’t occur to me until now that you were stuck with some dude you barely know, alone, in the middle of the night. It was such a dick move.”
“No. No, it’s fine.” I take a deep breath. Massage my temple. Force myself to get out of the tub. “I trust Jesse.”
“Okay. Good. I thought so, he’s always been a great guy, but I mean… They all are until they aren’t. You never know when people will turn creepy.
You weren’t uncomfortable, were you?”
I shake my head, closing the lapels of my robe as the cold seeps once more inside my bones.
