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The guys devolve back into a circular argument as I notice Jesse heading out to the patio. We lock eyes for a moment, and then the door shuts.
“Maybe,” I say, eyes still on the door. “Just ask yourself what Oprah would do. She’d give everyone a turn. You get the golden thong. You get the golden thong. Spread it all around, like… a golden shower.”
Maddox and Carter both burst out laughing.
Carter puts a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head. “I’m not sure that means what you think it means, Andi.”
I’m still distracted, so I mutter some excuse, set my drink down, and head out after Jesse. I hear Maddox and Carter laughing as I leave.
The air outside is bitter cold. I regret not grabbing my coat, but I see Jesse leaning on the balcony. He has brushed off enough snow to lean without getting his arms wet. He glances over his shoulder, then runs his forearm across the balcony to clear a spot for me to lean.
“Hey,” I say, teeth already clattering.
“Where is your coat?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He strips off his big, bulky jacket and puts it around me, then drapes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his warmth. The simple gesture feels like everything after days of distance between us.
“Sorry,” I say, even if I’m not particularly sorry at the moment since it led to this.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” he says. “I kind of panicked. It’s like I didn’t realize I hadn’t fully closed the door on the Sarah thing until she showed up, but then I couldn’t slam it shut fast enough. Then it felt like you wanted me to double down on us. I…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I want to make it up to you. Maybe a dinner date tomorrow night. Somewhere nice?”
“Really?” I ask. My heart is pounding, even though the prospect of a dinner date shouldn’t feel so groundbreakingly exciting. It does, though. It’s like a symbol–as if we’re taking a step closer to the thing we’ve been skirting around and pretending not to feel. I also feel a touch of guilt, because maybe he’s right. Maybe I was being needy and I really did want him to double down on us after he talked to Sarah.
“Really,” he says. “Me and you.”
“Jesse?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not having doubts about ending things with Sarah, are you? Is that why you’ve been distant? You’re thinking about whether you want to go back to her and don’t want to hurt my feelings?” So much for not being needy. But I also don’t want to have doubts. I want it all in the open. I want honesty between us, even if it means asking uncomfortably blunt questions.
“No,” he says quickly. He cups my face in both of his hands, which are somehow warm despite the cold in the night air. “No,” he says again, more softly this time. “I think… Sarah was the easy out, maybe. She was the door that I hadn’t figured out how to completely close. It wasn’t that I wanted to go back to her. It was that I kept thinking of what happened as a mistake I’d made–like something good I’d screwed up and lost. But none of that is why I’ve been distant.”
I wait, because I feel like whatever he’s about to say is going to shatter me into a million, happy little pieces.
“The time we’ve spent together made me see her differently. You’ve been showing me what it’s like when it’s good. Really good.” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he looks off into the trees and moonlit, snowy hills below the balcony. “It’s like if you only ever ate chocolate that tasted bitter and stale. Everybody else says it’s amazing, so you kind of convince yourself that it’s not so bad. Maybe you have to force it, but you can kind of see what they’re talking about if you squint real hard. And then you came along.”
I put my hands over my heart, melting on the inside. “Jesse Prince. Are you about to tell me I’m your first bite of sweet chocolate? Because that is so romantic.”
He laughs. “Something like that.”
I hug him tight. “I’m the high calorie treat you are trying not to over-indulge in. That is so tragic.”
“You may be taking the metaphor a bit too far,” he says, humor lacing his words. “I just… I’ve seen what all the fuss is about since I met you. And closing that door on Sarah made me finally come face to face with some important questions. Questions about where I want to go from here. I needed time to think, maybe.”
“What did you decide?” I ask, pulling back enough to look up at him.
“To take you on a nice dinner date. Not tomorrow, because the guys have a game and I want to be there. But we’ll go the night after.”
I grin. “That is an evasive answer.”
“Yes, it is,” he agrees.
I go back to hugging him. Partly, it’s because he’s warm and I’m cold, even with the big jacket. But mostly, it’s because his words have filled me with something that feels an awful lot like hope. Hope for us. Hope for my future. Hope for everything.
It’s an amazing feeling, so I close my eyes and listen to the muffled sound of laughter and music from inside the cabin behind us. I think about the sparkling lights all over and the soft snow making the night so supernaturally quiet. I think about maybe, just maybe not going back to New York when all this is over.
I squeeze him a little tighter and smile.
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