Jesse's Girl

Chapter 34

I opened the front door quietly as I entered my house, and then fell against it once I was inside. It shut behind me with a fairly loud click, and then I sighed as the quietness in the house settled over me.

       That was, you know, until my dad popped out from the kitchen archway.

       "Are you hungry, brat? Your mom and I were doing a cooking challenge while you were gone and I beat her ass yet again."

       I couldn't help the slip of my smile when a recipe book suddenly flew through the archway. My dad threw himself against the wall of the arch, staring at the book with wide eyes when it landed on the floor beside him, missing him by an inch. He relaxed after a short moment and glanced back in the kitchen before turning back to me. "She's taking the loss pretty hard."

       "I had this! I put in all of the right ingredients! You must have cheated! You had to have cheated, you piece of sh—oh, hi, honey! How was school?"

       I set my bag on the counter in the kitchen, rounding it to see the aftermath of my mother's cooking. I took a piece of chicken that wasn't burnt from her skillet, shrugging as I brought it to my mouth. "School was school," I answered her.

       "And how's Katrina? I haven't seen her around lately."

       I froze.

       My mother was too distracted to notice my reaction as she poked and prodded the chicken in her pan. I couldn't say the same for my dad though. He leaned against the counter beside me and nudged me after a second, obviously curious.

       "Uh..." I struggled. For obvious reasons, I didn't feel up to delving into the conversation I'd had earlier with Katrina. But more specifically, I didn't feel up to explaining to my parents that Katrina was cutting off all ties with me while I was with Jesse. "I uh, I haven't really talked to her a lot these past few days."

       The sad thing was that it was the truth.

       "Why not?" My father. Ever the inquisitive one.

       I shrugged again. "I don't know."

       A long moment passed, and all the while I could see both him and my mother trying to figure out why. My mom was the first to take a guess - a wrong one that I didn't have the energy to correct. "Don't tell me you like a boy that she likes?"

       "Oh." My dad peered around me to look at her. "That one."

       My mother paused her chicken inspection to look at him too. "That one?"

       "The one that touched her,"—my dad poked a finger at my cheek—"here."

       I closed my eyes, embarrassment making my face flush.  

       I recalled all those mornings ago when Jesse had first succeeded in kissing me—or rather, the first time I'd actually allowed him to succeed. He'd cornered me against his car outside this very house, and when he left, I'd retreated to my own car only to discover that my parents had watched the entire scene play out from the front windows.

       My eyes remained closed even as my mother gasped, remembering the kiss just as I had. "What was his name again? Something with a J..."

       "James—"

       "No, it was Johnny—"

       "Jesus Christ."

       "That's not right, Carson. I remember his name being Joel—"