Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Tallula

M y internal heart "like" icon started flashing red when Jesse hugged me at the Coffee Loft and it hasn't stopped. I flop onto my bed, my thoughts loud. Aren't there noise ordinances around here? I should call in a complaint. But the moment I close my eyes. I'm asleep.

When I wake up three hours later, groggy and confused because it's light out—I've been waking up during the wee hours when it's still dark—it takes me a moment to place why I took a nap in the middle of the day.

From head to toe, I fill with warm fuzzies when I remember my date with Jesse later. Sure enough, that little heart icon remains lit.

After a long shower, I get ready for our "date." I'm not sure what to wear. It'll be late afternoon and we're well into October now. It's definitely sweater weather. I think back to that day I had detention. What was I wearing? Chances are something obnoxiously preppy. Nothing wrong with that style, but I tried so hard to be a good girl in every aspect of my life, including what I wore.

What does that make me now? Not a bad girl because chances are I'd pick that same outfit all over again. But maybe less obsessive about fitting a mold.

I bounce on my toes. I have a beige sweater and jeans I could wear that are similar to the ones from that day. A cute pair of ankle boots will finish the outfit. It's an upgrade from eighteen-year-old me, but also a little hug for the girl I was who tried so hard.

Speaking of hug... Did Jesse hug me or was that a dream?

I sniff the Coffee Loft shirt I had on earlier. Smells like coffee, cinnamon, and a subtle hint of...is that him?

Closing my eyes, I recollect. Yes. Jesse Lawson hugged me earlier. His arms were strong and heavy. Pleasantly weighted like a thick blanket. Like he could pull a tree up by its stump—or slug Peter if he ever dared take a swing at him again.

My ride on cloud nine stops abruptly when I recall how humiliating last night was. I wasn't kidding when I said my life is a mess.

But hasn't it always been this way? I'm just really good at hiding it by putting on a nice outfit, doing my hair, and pasting a smile on my lips. Pretending that everything is perfect.

Like an arrow released from a bow, another question races toward me and pierces me with truth .

What if I'm just myself?

Would that be so bad? What would happen?

Before I can arrive at an answer, there's a light knock on my door. Thelma's raspy voice sounds through the wood. "Tallula, there's a young man downstairs calling on you."

For a moment, the rollercoaster dip causes my stomach to plunge, but Thelma would've recognized Peter and not allowed him entry.

Of course, it's Jesse. When I still lived at home, my dates had to answer to my father. Since then, there have been numerous guys that were varying degrees of okay. But never has my stomach swung so solidly toward unfettered excitement as I anticipate meeting the man downstairs. Back on cloud nine, I practically float to the landing by the door.

Jesse's hair is combed and styled slightly like he may have zipped over to the salon and had Betsy clean it up. He's freshly shaved and wearing a button-down shirt with jeans. It's pressed and tucked in. Aside from the well-worn boots and the leather jacket slung over his shoulder and hanging off his first two fingers, everything about him says good guy—and he is. But that doesn't mean he's boring. The sideways smile on his lips tells me he's every bit as fun and funny as ever.

Holding a bouquet of pale orange roses, alyssum, and sunflowers, he offers them to me and says, "You look mighty pretty, Tallula."

"Thank you. You look rather sharp yourself. "

His lips ripple with a smile as if not accustomed to receiving compliments.

"Now, you two, no funny business, drive safely, and be home by curfew," Thelma says.

We both gawk.

"That's what parents say, right? I always wanted to try out that line. See if I could pull it off."

Jesse claps her on the shoulder, "Good delivery. Had I listened to authority figures when I was a teenager, I would've obeyed."

She smiles as if pleased. "All the same, have fun."

I can't be sure, but I think she mouths, For goodness' sake, just kiss the girl already.

Outside, Jesse opens the truck's passenger side door for me like a gentleman. "I thought we were taking a ride on your motorcycle."

"We are—just have to go get it."

"Do you remember how to ride it?"

He chuckles and rounds to the driver's side. Cranking the engine, he rolls both windows down. "It's, well, like riding a bike." Then he tells me about his weekend cruises through the countryside when he has time off.

As we cross Main Street, I say, "By the way, thanks for earlier. I needed a hug."

"I'm new at this. Haven't had too many opportunities to flex those muscles."

"On the contrary, your muscles are quite flexed." Unable to help myself, I squeeze his biceps.

The corners of Jesse's eyes crinkle with a smile. "I mean showing affection. That kind of thing. You having been married and all, I assume you're better at it than me."

"I was fake married," I remind Jesse because as far as I'm concerned, Peter doesn't get any more screentime.

With the late-day sun golden and the wind reminding me that chaos and order are two very different things, something I'll never be able to explain washes over me. For my whole life, I was trying to exert control by being the good girl, trying to fit myself into a box of what I thought that kind of person looked and acted like. When really, I wanted order—for my parents to deal with their problems rather than pretend they didn't exist. To not have to play the good girl so we seemed perfect.

I glance over my shoulder at the ribbon of road behind us. It's as if there's been a rope tied around me, holding me back, and it just now broke loose. Jesse is very much a part of this newfound freedom.

I can't say for sure whether there's a future with this man, but there is the time we have right now. I'm not going to pretend I'm anyone other than myself with him. Words tumble out of me. "Whatever happens is new for both of us."

"I like that plan," Jesse says, turning down a driveway crowded with live oaks and magnolia trees.

If I were with anyone else, I'd be afraid he was leading me to my demise. This would be the episode called, The One When She Goes into the Woods and Never Comes Out.

"I have a lot of work to do. Get this cleared out. Have the driveway graded. Maybe paved, but those are projects for later."

We emerge into a large clearing with a brick house with a hip-style roof in the center. Two dormers like a pair of eyes stare at us above a gaping front porch with pillars that remind me of jack-o'-lantern teeth.

I fight a shiver. "Is it haunted?"

Jesse chuckles. "Most certainly not. It's gutted. Fixing it up. Brick by brick. Literally. I've been repointing them, especially along the chimney there." He points.

"This is your place?"

"When I was a teenager, my answer would've been, unfortunately."

I can see why. The house is practically crumbling down, and the overgrown property isn't much better.

Jesse cuts the truck's engine but doesn't get out. I don't want to either.