Jesse's Girl

Chapter 19

    "You're lying to yourself, Dear Aries. Don't let false judgment put your feelings to rest, since in reality, you've always been the stubborn type. Come to understanding, things change—"

    I slammed shut the computer screen with a jolt and sank back in the desk chair. "Oh, shut up."

    Lying to myself? Lying about what? Sure, I told Jesse that I liked him by telling a lie – as confusing and odd as it seemed – but it was easier to say it like that.

    Talking to Jesse might as well be the opposite of what I actually meant – I hate you was easier to say to him than anything else, because really, I'm used to telling him that. But nevertheless, I was dumbfounded at the fact that I actually lied about that. Only God knows how crazy he'll act now.

    Only to add to my idiocracy, I told a lie I wasn't even sure of. And to make matters worse, I didn't even know whom the lie was directed to anymore. Do I hate him? Or do I like him? By now, the second one seemed to be in the lead, judging by my actions – my poor, silly, childish actions...

    I kicked myself away from the desk, and let the desk chair glide across the wooden floor for a second. After sitting for a while and staring at nothing but the dark room, I got up, picked up my stuff, and walked out the door. While descending the stairs, I picked my hair up – disregarding the few strands that strayed away and fell in front of my eyes.

    Passing by the living room, my dad was still asleep – not odd to see that he was still sleeping, since he usually woke up later. But I hadn't been able to sleep at all, so I decided leaving at six in the morning – even while it was still dark – would be a good idea. Maybe I could drive around for a while, and maybe if I'm lucky, run over someone.

    You sound worse than a crazy person.

     I quietly opened and shut the front door, being careful as to not wake up my dad, and crossed my arms from the cold temperature outside. I swung my bag in the open door of my car once I got to it, and straightened up my jacket before I could get in.

    But then something screeched.

    I looked up and saw a cat running away from a falling trashcan. Once it fell, I let out a small laugh, anxiety coating the awkward sound.

    I looked down, getting into the car – but then stopped and shot my gaze back up.

    On the side of the road, the faint shadow of a car was there – black, small, two-door, and one of the oldest and well cherished cars I've seen. The Camaro was parked on my street.

    I shut the door to my car with wide eyes, and crossed my arms as I made my way to it. In the front of the car, I couldn't spot the key marks on the side of the door or the dried up residue of my mother's lipstick on the windshield – for a second, I started to think it wasn't even his car.

    Until I remembered that he took it to get fixed, come to think of it, it has been a couple of days with it gone.

    Walking over to the driver's side, I set a hand on the door, letting my fingers trail the paint. The car had been repainted surely, because not only was it as smooth and glossy as ever, but even in the lack of light, it still glinted from the barely working street lights.

    With adrenaline shooting up through my veins, I looked up at the dark houses throughout the block, and then down the road for any sort of shadow – any form of life, besides the dumpster cat that was creeping around.

    Someone sighed, and I immediately whipped my head around.

     No way.

      Jesse stood in front of the car, with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a dark hood over his head.