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“You don’t have an accent.”
He sips at his steaming coffee, his face going blank. “I left a long time ago.”
“Did something happen back then?”
A corner of his mouth curls up. “Didn’t know you cared, Embers.”
“I don’t.”
“I know. I was just joking.” His hand clenches on the table.
“Sorry. I’m not good at getting jokes.”
He laughs, and I just stare at him flatly,
daring him to make fun of me about this.
“You’re serious,” he finally says, his eyes narrowing.
I shrug. “My parents used to tell jokes at the dinner table, explaining them to me, until I caught on. It’s much better now, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t get them.”
“How come? You’re not stupid.”
I chance a smile, my chest warming at his comment. “Yeah. I’m a bit dyslexic, though.”
His pupils widen. “That sucks, I guess. Had trouble at school?”
“Some.” My throat closes up and my smile falls. I take a sip from my coffee. “I’m not good with words. Never was.”
“Kids tease you for it?”
I nod.
“Fuckers,” he says, and he isn’t smiling anymore, either. His eyes flash with strong emotion, and I watch, fascinated, as his grip on the handle of the mug turns white-knuckled. “Wish I was there to punch their teeth out.”
Whoa. I shouldn’t like him as much as I do right now, but I can’t stop the smile returning to my face.
We sit for a while in silence. No sounds yet from Kayla’s room. I can hear the pipes groaning in the apartment above.
Anything to avoid looking at him. But of course I can’t help it. For the first time I notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired.
As if to confirm my suspicion, Jesse puts his mug down and stretches his arms over his head with a yawn.
“Damn, I’m beat.”
“Your T-shirt is, too. It’s coming apart.” I point at the seam along his side through which I can see firm, tanned skin wrapped around sinewy muscle.
So much for not staring.
“Oh fuck.” He lifts his arm again, twists to have a look, and the seam tears wider, showing a good chunk of his flared ribs. “And it was one of my newer shirts.”
I lick my lips, transfixed. “This is new? Looks as old as you are.”
“Dammit, Embers.” He locks his hands behind his head and sighs. “I’ve got nothing to wear at Asher’s wedding. I really need to go shopping.”
“Yeah? You make it sound like a trip to the ninth circle of hell.”
“It is. Sorta.” He lets his arms flop down at his sides. “I hate shopping. Kinda like you and parties, ya know?”
