Blindness

“I didn’t want to distract you…from the work you’re doing with Trevor.” I lie. It’s a good one, and I know it’s laced with guilt. And Cody feels it, sighing heavily in his seat and leaning forward to rub his temples.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. But I want to help you. Even if we weren’t…” he starts, but never finishes that part of his sentence. “Helping you is actually my job. Besides, if Trevor finds out I let you fail, he’ll kick my ass!”

He reaches over and pulls the quiz from my desk, flipping through the pages and shaking his head. He stands up and walks over to Dr. Rush. I try to busy myself, pretending not to listen. But I hear him ask if I can get a retake, and he actually gets me one for Monday morning.

Cody is smiling when he walks back toward me; it’s a cocky smile that I’ve only seen him wear once or twice, but it’s sexy as hell, and I’m feeling myself step over that invisible line just a little in my mind. I shake my head to get myself back over it the second he slaps my papers back on my desk.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re hitting the books this weekend—hard!” Cody says, and I open my mouth to tell him it’s okay, that I can study on my own, but he shooshhh’s me—actually holding his finger up and “Shooshhhhhhing!”

He leans over my desk, the ink and muscles of his arm exposed in the pushed-up sleeve of his black thermal. “No excuses. You know this stuff, and I’ve got nothing to do all weekend,” he says, biting his tongue a little as he stands up again.

I nod once and pack my things to walk out with him, my insides bouncing between nervous excitement and fear that I’m going to be alone with him. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.

“Oh, and so…I guess, I’ll pick you up at six for the show? I’ve got some work at the shop, so I’ll swing by the house,” Cody says.

I nod yes and give him a thumb’s up like the weak-willed loser I am. I can’t say no to Cody.

I don’t want to.

I’m pacing in the driveway, swinging my keys around my thumb, trying to get up the nerve to drive to the shop and cancel on Cody. I’ve actually put the keys in the car three times, and gotten back out each time, only to pace more. Meanwhile, minutes are ticking away, and now I’ve found myself at less than an hour until Cody’s coming to pick me up.

Jessie’s Volkswagen pops when she pulls up the driveway, like it’s announcing her arrival. Her car is loud and unapologetic, just like her. She pulls right up to my feet and stops her engine, getting out, her gum popping in her mouth, and her hands dangling from the pockets of the hoodie she’s wearing.

She pushes her toes right up to mine and then tilts her head, staring me in the face. “What are ya doin’?” she asks, twisting her neck to the side with a crack. She’s staring me right in the face, her chewing slow and methodical—like she’s trying to break me.

I don’t know how to answer her. Honestly, I haven’t a clue what I’m doing. I suck in air swiftly, and then blow it out slowly, my posture deflating along with the tiny bit of confidence I have left.

“I have no idea,” I say, my eyes tearing a little as I speak. I try to blink them away, but it only makes it worse, and within seconds, I’m actually crying in front of the toughest girl I’ve ever met.

“Shit,” she says, reaching for my hand and pulling me inside the house. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Come on, where’s your room?”

I lead Jessie upstairs to my bedroom, and once we’re inside, she shuts the door behind her. She walks around the room slowly, her face somewhere between a laugh and confusion. “You live here?” she asks, touching the dresser and running her finger along the bottom of a picture frame.

I shrug my shoulders, still recovering from my breakdown.

“It’s just…it doesn’t really look like you. Like…at all,” she says, and I know exactly what she means. It’s not me.

Jessie notices my desk finally, and she comes over to sit at it, tracing the dents with her fingers, just like Cody did. “Well, I take that back. This is you,” she says, a tight smile forming when she talks.

“That was my dad’s,” I say, letting out every last bit of air and tension when I do. “And you’re right. About everything.”

Jessie nods yes and pulls the gum from her mouth as she stands. “Trash?” she asks. I direct her to the bathroom, and she is in there for a few minutes, no doubt looking at all of the ornate fixtures and the oversized closet.