Chapter 25
I’ve been to two other windows, but this is the only one with a sliver of light peeking out through the cracks. I don’t try to see inside, that’s just too stalkery, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. But there’s nothing wrong with tapping on windows at eleven o’clock at night, calling out someone’s name, right?
“Bess, it’s me,” I say a little louder, hoping she’s on the other side listening. “Please talk to me.”
I lean forward, my weight pressing on my toes as I stare at the window, hoping to see the curtains move, the blinds lift up, and Bess, standing there with a smile on her face.
I wait a few seconds and consider knocking again. I’m pretty sure she would have heard me by now. There are no other cars in the driveway besides her own, so I’m guessing she’s alone. At least I hope she is. My hand hovers in the air as I decide to either knock again or just walk away.
To my left, the front door swings open with a creak and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Oh shit,” I breathe, as I stumble back from the hedges near the window. “You scared me.”
Bess stands there in black leggings and a white T-shirt that has a big cat’s face across the front. “Josh,” she says slowly, articulating the word just like my teachers used to do when they were mad at me. Her hands open wide, gesturing to the doorframe. “This is a front door. It’s normally considered the entryway to a home. And do you see this?” she says, pointing to the mat just outside of her door. “It says ‘welcome’, which is a common term used to welcome visitors into a home.”
“Yeah,” I say sheepishly as I walk through the grass and toward her front porch, shoving my hands in my pockets. “I’m aware of that.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “So why didn’t you knock on this damn door instead of my window?”
“I’m—uh,” I say, stumbling over my words. I can’t possibly tell her I thought it was kind of romantic now, that she’s standing here all pissed off. My shoulders lift and fall. “I guess I’m an idiot.”
“I almost called the cops on you, Josh. I was two seconds away from it when I heard your voice. I was scared someone was about to break in and murder me.”
“God, I’m so sorry,” I say, dragging my hand down my face. “I’m an idiot. I only wanted to talk.”
“Maybe I should sign you up for reading lessons at the local elementary school because I thought I told you in my text that I didn’t want to talk.”
“Yeah, okay. You did, but—” I begin, only to be cut off by her hand slicing quickly through the air.
“But you didn’t care because you’reJosh Grahamand you get anything you want andanyoneyou want and you have absolutely zero respect for anyone’s opinions unless they match with yours, right? You knew I didn’t want to talk to you and you came over here and forced me to talk against my will because you just don’t care about anyone else but yourself.”
“Whoa.” I step backward, feeling as though her words just kicked all the air out of my lungs. “That’s . . . I’m sorry.” Every rational thought in my brain is telling me to apologize, turn around and leave, but my heart steps up to the plate and takes charge for one last round.
I peer up at her and run a hand through my hair. “Bess, I’ll go, I just need to say one thing.”
She heaves a sigh, her lips pressing together, but she doesn’t tell me to leave, so I keep talking. “I’m not trying to be a selfish prick by bothering you, I swear I’m not. I’m just crazy about you, okay? We met and you’re adorable and sweet and smart. I want to get to know you. I’m sorry for taking you to that stupid party tonight when I should have taken you out somewhere nice. Forget that fuckwad Bryce, because he’s no longer my friend after that shit he pulled. Please don’t send me away, Bess. I am crazy about you.”
Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “You barely even know me.”
“I know enough to know I want you in my life.” I feel like a desperate man on the edge, making one last ditch effort to win over the girl of his dreams. The look she’s giving me right now isn’t helping my situation. Her lips press together and she glances behind me, probably at my truck that’s parked on the other side of the road, and then her chest rises with a deep breath. “You can come in,” she says after an agonizing moment of contemplation. She steps to the side and motions for me to enter, which I do quickly before she changes her mind. She closes the door behind us and locks it. “But only for a minute.”
“Okay,” I say, the relief evident in my voice. “Thank you.”
The living room is small and smells like potpourri, with pastel furniture and little crocheted doilies everywhere. I remember that she said she lives with her grandmother, and that’s pretty obvious now. Still, there’s a homey feeling in here, welcoming and inviting. I find myself wondering if her grandma would like me if she ever gets the chance to meet me.
Bess leads me down a narrow hallway that’s lined with photos of herself through the ages. In her bedroom, she has a matching white furniture set with a Victorian flare to it that my little sister would probably love.
“Nice room,” I say, looking around at everything in its place, except for a desk in the corner that’s covered with colorful papers, glue, and scissors that remind me of being in kindergarten.
“You’re not here to look at my room,” Bess says, closing her bedroom door behind us. She hesitates and then twists the lock. Turning back to me, she says, “Grandma will be home soon and I can’t have her knowing you’re here.”
“No boys allowed?” I say, a grin playing on my lips.
She shakes her head. “Actually, I don’t know what the rules are about that, but I kind of talked shit about you when I had her pick me up tonight so if she sees you now she’ll probably have even harsher words than I have for you.”
“Ah.” The urge to bolt out of here before coming face-to-face with her grandmother is only overshadowed by my need to get back in Bess’s good graces. She sits on the end of her bed and looks at me, arms crossed. I choose to sit in her desk chair.
“Thanks for letting me in.”
She shrugs. “I don’t think we should be friends.”
