“So why don’t you show me those Black Phantom videos?”
I don’t hesitate, pulling out my phone to show her the videos I took from a concert a couple years back. I hand the phone to her—it’s easier with our height difference. Jessie’s head comes up to about my shoulder. It would be so easy to stand behind her, prop my chin on her shoulder, and hold her while we watch videos together, and the thought of doing all that makes my heart beat a little faster. I hold my hands behind my back, though, the model of self-control.
“Were you in the nosebleeds for this?” she asks, visibly confused.
“I was.”
She makes a surprised noise but says nothing, just watches the video, mouthing the words and bopping around a little. I stop looking at the screen and just watch her. The unfiltered joy on her face and in her movements is the kind of joy typically reserved for things like Christmas Day and birthday-party surprises.
The video ends and she hands back my phone. “Do you have more?”
“I have so many that eventually you’ll stop asking.”
“Never,” she says with the widest, most gorgeous smile.
“Here—I’ve got your favorite,” I say.
She claps her fingers together and jumps up and down a little. She is so cute. What I wouldn’t give to kiss her right now.
I find the video and hand her the phone. This time as I watch her I think back to the Halloween party, the feel of her beneath my hands, the electric current when we kissed. I want to feel it all again so bad.
But if we never talk about it, it could take a long time to get there. Plus, this is just a formality. She knew it was me. And when I tell her I was—what did she call him? Sexy Shakespeare?—she’ll laugh and say, “I knew that, silly,” and then I can ask her to go on a proper date with me where we sit across the table from each other and talk about nothing and everything.
“Jessie, I need to tell you something,” I say.
She looks up with wide eyes, concern stitched on her face.
“It’s not bad. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad.”
“Next!” the guy at the counter calls.
Fuck.
Somehow it became our turn without either of us realizing it. We step up and grab our drinks, plus another for Jade. Jessie digs into her purse to pay, but I’ve already handed my card to the guy.
“Mac, you didn’t have to…”
“You guys let me crash your hangout—it’s the least I can do. Should we grab Jade some nachos?”
“If we don’t, there’ll be a riot in the stands.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” I say with a smirk.
“Can you imagine the guilt you’d carry around with you if you were the sole cause of an actual riot? The body count, the blood on your hands… You’d never sleep again,” Jessie says.
“I’d have to become Catholic specifically to confess and atone for my sins.”
“There are probably worse reasons to become Catholic.” She takes a sip of her beer, peering at me over the edge of the cup.
“Such as?” I ask.
“To try to fuck the priests.”
I chose the wrong moment to take a sip of beer because my laugh is more like a snort, and somehow I inhale beer up through my sinuses, which causes me to sputter and spew my beer everywhere. Luckily, I snap my head to the side, where there are no people passing by. This causes Jessie to nearly spit out her own drink, and she covers her mouth, and then we’re both doubled over in stitches trying to regain control. We both eventually straighten and catch our breath. I finally wipe my face and give her an incredulous look.
“Jesus, Jessie!”
“You didn’t know I was funny?”
