She’s rubbing her hands together and cracking her knuckles when she comes back into the room. I’m sitting on the end of the bed now, my feet folded up and my head slung forward.
“So? Where’s the ring?” she asks. I nod toward the drawer, where I’ve tucked it in its box. I don’t wear it when Trevor isn’t here. I tell myself it’s because I don’t like being flashy, and it’s a little uncomfortable. But I do it because I don’t want to rub it in Cody’s face. I know he notices, but he hasn’t said anything about it.
Jessie slides the drawer open and peeks inside the little black box for a few seconds. She doesn’t react at all when she closes it again and places it back in the drawer. She zips down the front of her hoodie and pulls her arms from the sleeves, tossing it on the bed just before she flops down next to me.
“It’s a nice ring,” she says, no inflection at all. She shoots her head to the side to look at me. “It doesn’t look like you—like at all.”
“I know,” I say, surprising myself at my honesty.
“Why’d you say yes?” she asks.
I shrug, and then flop down on the bed beside her. “I’m supposed to,” I say, knowing I’m only scratching at the surface of the reason I said yes to Trevor’s proposal.
“Bullshit,” Jessie says, leaning her arm into me.
I laugh at her reaction, mostly at how quickly she called me out. “It’s not bullshit,” I say with a nervous laugh. “Not totally, anyhow…I mean, I’ve been dreaming of marrying Trevor Appleton since the day we met. His asking actually happened right when I hoped it would. It’s just…”
She stops me mid sentence.
“It’s just that was before…before Cody,” she smiles softly and reaches for my hand to squeeze it. On instinct, I squeeze her back and let the tears fill up my eyes again.
“Jessie, what the hell am I doing?” I say, the tears coming on a little harder now.
“You’re playing it safe,” she says. I hold my breath to stop my crying and stare at her, trying to understand what she means. Am I being safe? Is that all Trevor is about?
I love him—I know I do. But maybe there are different kinds of love? When Mac died, a piece of me died, too. My fire. My energy. If anything happened to Trevor, I know I would hurt and struggle to recover. But if something happened to Cody? It would devastate me.”
“You should tell him,” she says, waking me from my thoughts.
“Huh?” I ask, not completely following.
“Cody. You should tell him how you feel,” she says, her face serious, but not threatening like before. She’s talking to me like a friend—a girlfriend—and it feels amazing.
I smile back at her words, but I don’t respond. I know that Cody’s biggest priority is saving his father’s shop. And I also can’t bear the thought of being the thing that destroys this new relationship he’s found with his brother.
I can tell Jessie senses my hesitation, but she decides not to push me. Instead, she pulls me to my feet and into the gigantic closet filled with my sad selection of clothing.
“Well, at least you’re going to a kick-ass show. Let’s get you dressed, so you can have a good time tonight, maybe forget about this mess you’re in for a few hours, huh?” she says, flipping through my hangers and scrunching her nose at most of my garments. “Fuck, Charlie. What are you, 45?”
I laugh at her remark, until I realize she’s serious—and then I realize how pathetic my wardrobe really is. I went from shy-high-school-shut-in, to college-brown-noser. The partying-coed never really made a stop with my style. My pulse is quickening, and I feel like I might pass out as I realize Cody’s going to be here in less than 20 minutes—and I might have to walk downstairs in a sweater vest and jeans.
Out of instinct, I start to chew my nails, only to have Jessie slap my hand away from my lips. “Stop it!” she scolds. “That’s a bad habit, and you do it all the time. Come on, pull your shoes off.”
I do as she says and notice she’s pulling off her black combat boots. She pulls my white cotton sundress out and tells me to pull it on. So, I do. Then she tells me to see if her boots fit me, and amazingly we’re the same size. I’m awkward in them, though, and I feel like I should wrap myself in a sweater to cover up my bare shoulders. Just then, Jessie drags me into the bathroom and comes back in with her hoodie.
“Here, wear this when you’re cold. But when it warms up, during the show, take it off. You look super cute. Trust me,” she smiles.