“Hey, if nothing happened, there’s nothing to worry about.” I feel desperate and lost. He leans close to my face, tucking a curl behind my ear. Our eyes lock. He wants what Cole can’t. Jesse breathes, “I’ll cover for you. I can tell them how we met that day on the beach. There were other people around. If you say that me and you are together, and deny your relationship with your boss, they should let it drop.”
“I can’t have you lie for me,” I say, not looking away, not putting more space between us.
“It’s not a lie,” he says lifting his hand to my cheek. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I keep checking my phone, hoping you’re over him—and calling me.”
I feel so lost, so alone. I need Cole, but that will just make it worse. The entire relationship with him made everything worse, including me. I want something with him that he won’t give. I want his whole heart, but he won’t let me in. Loneliness and fear mingle together and I can’t stop looking at Jesse’s lips. He pulls me to him slowly, gently pressing his mouth to mine. It’s like last time. The kiss is sweet and chaste, asking me if I want him.
Indecision flashes through my mind. I could try to hold onto whatever I have with Cole, but there’s nothing there. Correction, there’s friendship there and nothing more. We traded sex secrets and he didn’t even look at me last night. I thought I meant something to him. The way he cradled me in his arms felt like I mattered, but I went to sleep alone and woke up alone. Cole didn’t see me off this morning and didn’t say anything else last night. Was it cheating to continue this kiss?
There’s nothing between you and Cole, so how are you cheating? The voice inside my head snaps at me like I should know better.
Jesse’s breath is warm, and the feeling of his hand on the side of my face is strong and perfect. He lingers by my lips, his lashes lowered, looking—waiting for me to push him away. But I don’t. I lean into the kiss, feeling a rush of emotions race by as I plummet off an emotional cliff and obliterate any chance of being with Cole.
Jesse’s tongue slips past my lips and into my mouth. He strokes me slowly, like he’s thought about this since the first time we met. I want to lean into him. I want to feel nothing, to let go of the weeks I’ve spent with Cole, but I can’t. I break the kiss and look down. Jesse’s hands remains splayed on my cheeks, cradling my face. I can’t look at him.
“Sorry. I just can’t...” my voice is shaky and trails off.
He touches his forehead to mine, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, Anna.” When he leans back, he drops his hands to his lap. He smiles at me sadly, “I wish I had better timing. I wish I found you first.”
I glance up from my hands, and try to smile, but I can’t. Everything is pressing down on me, making me feel like a claustrophobe trapped in a coffin. I can’t stand it. I want to nod at Jesse and act like he doesn’t affect me, but he does. I stand and he does the same.
“You okay?” he asks, trying to catch my eye.
I mean to look up and nod, but a sob catches in my throat. Tears fill my eyes as I nod and cry, “Yeeees.”
“I think you mean no.” He steps toward me and says, “Come on. Let’s go grab an early dinner.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’d rather be your friend than nothing at all. Besides, it seems like you could use a friend right about now, anyway.” He keeps his distance, occasionally brushing against my arm or directing me by my elbow, as we walk across campus and emerge onto the jammed streets. It’s rush hour. He takes me into the first place he sees and we grab a table in the corner.
I dab my eyes with a tissue and look up at him. He’s the only one who seems to want me, and I keep telling him no. What’s wrong with me? Jesse is my age, my type, and I’m pushing him away because I want something I can’t have—Cole Stevens.
“So, you want to talk about it?” he asks, leaning his arms on the table.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened with me and Cole. Nothing’s happened the entire summer.”
“But you wish it did?” he says.
I nod. “I thought there was something there, but I was wrong. When we talked about it last night, he pretty much told me no.”
Jesse’s face twisted with confusion. “Then where’d the complaint come from?”
I shrug. “No idea. It’s a slap in the face after last night. Honestly, you got further with me than I got with him.”
Jesse smiles. “Did I?”
I nod and look up at him. “If I met you a few weeks ago...”
“I know,” he says. “Listen, if things fall apart, you risk not graduating. We need to focus on that. That’s the main problem right now.” I nod, agreeing with him. “Let’s assume that they find you guilty.” My spine goes rigid as my mouth falls open.
“But I didn’t—”
“I know, but say things go to hell—worst case scenario. You’ll need another internship. Something where you can jump in and wrack up a ton of hours fast. Did you have a fallback?” I nod. Sophia ended up being my second choice. “I’d contact that person if the shit hits the fan and the university scratches your hours, especially if that studio showed any interest in you. It’s the fastest way to fix it.”
I think about that for a second. I’d be back where I was in the beginning, except Sophia would know I’d chosen Cole over her. I wasn’t sure how she’d do with that. I nod and look up at Jesse across the table. I wonder why I can’t let Cole go for him. I wonder if I do this to myself—pick guys who are defective to prevent having a real relationship with them. It seems like a double strikeout, first with Edward and now Cole. Meanwhile there is a perfectly hot guy sitting in front of me, who seems genuinely interested in me. I sigh and lower my gaze to the table. I’m such a head-case.
“That’s really the only option I have, right? Go back to Sottero and beg?” I look up at Jesse to see him nod.
“Do you have classes in the fall?”
I shake my head. “No, I finished everything early by taking short courses last year. Usually people have their internship over the summer, come back and complete their classes. The dean let me flip them around so that I could walk in graduation at the end of August.”
“So that’s your best bet. Go see the dean, deny the whole thing and hope it was just some jealous guy spewing crap. Maybe it won’t go anywhere.” Jesse waves at the waitress and she refills our glasses.
Sipping my soda, I ask, “You think someone did this to me on purpose?” Who would do that?
Jesse shrugs, “Maybe. Or maybe something just didn’t look right. Is there anything that would have made someone think you were together?”
My face flames. “Ah, well that answers that question. Listen, Anna.” He leans forward in the booth and pats my hand to get my attention. “Think of it as just another hurdle to jump over before graduation. No big deal. It’s your boss that’s going to catch hell for it, not you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s against university policy to have a sexual relationship with your intern. Period. If they think he did it, well, I’m not sure what they’ll do, but since it’s Cole Stevens I don’t think it’ll just get swept under the rug. Tabloids have been following him around for the past couple weeks. It’s like they sniffed out something brewing below the surface with him.”
As Jesse speaks I think about the woman in the red gown, his lawyer. Something bad was coming. Something Cole already knew about. My stomach twists and I wonder if he already knew about the accusations, if that’s the reason why he won’t touch me. Hope and dread flood through me, making me feel sick.
Jesse sees me pale. “Listen, you can handle this. Keep acting like it’s nothing. Don’t react until it hits the fan, okay?” He squeezes my hand. I look up at him and nod slowly. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that it already has and I’m the last to find out.
CHAPTER 4
“Anna Lamore is here to see you,” says a woman twice my age. She looks up at me with judgment in her eyes.
The intercom buzzes back, “One moment.”
“Have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.” She gazes at me briefly and then returns to tapping the keys on her computer. I slip into a seat and wait. Students come in and out, scheduling their appointments to make last second changes to their fall schedule.
The commercial carpet on the floor is pristine. It must be new. The walls are lined with commercial art -- if you could even call it that -- of large flowers in ugly vases. The pale mint green paint does nothing to add any warmth to the room either.
The big brown door in front of me cracks open and the dean walks out. Dr. Grillo is a vertically-challenged man, close to fifty years old with a dusting of grey scattered through his remaining hair. He wears a brown suit with a pair of loafers that have seen better days.
“Miss Lamore,” he calls my name and holds the door open. He doesn’t smile at me the way he usually does and my stomach drops into my shoes.
