When I got to my room, I saw that Jesse was already up. He doesn't usually pay morning visits. On the other hand, I don't normally sleep for thirty-six hours straight, so I guess neither of us were really sticking to the schedule.
In any case, I hadn't expected to see him there, and so I jumped about a foot and a half and quickly hid the hand carrying his miniature behind my back.
I mean, come on. I don't want him to think I like him or anything.
"You're awake," he said from the window seat where he'd been sitting with Spike and a copy of Abby Hoffman's Steal This Book that I happen to know he'd stolen from my mother's bookshelf downstairs.
"Um," I said, sidling over to my bed. Maybe, if I was quick enough, I could thrust his picture under my pillow before he noticed. "Yes, I am."
"How do you feel?" he asked me.
"Me?" I asked, like there was somebody else in the room he could possibly have been asking.
Jesse laid the book down and looked at me with another one of those expressions on his face. You know, the kind I can never read.
"Yes, you," he said. "How do you feel?"
"Fine," I said. I made it to the bed. I sat down on it, and quick as a mongoose - I've never seen one in action, but I've heard they're pretty fast - I thrust the check, the letters, and the miniature under my pillow. Then I relaxed.
"I feel great," I said.
"Good," he said. "We need to talk."
Suddenly I didn't feel so relaxed anymore. In fact, I sprang to my feet. I don't know why, but my heart started beating very fast.
Talk? What does he want to talk about? My mind was going a hundred miles a second. I suppose we should talk about what happened. I mean, it was very scary and all of that, and I nearly died, and like Paul said, I do have a lot of questions -
But what if that was what Jesse wanted to talk about? The part where I nearly died, I mean?
I didn't want to talk about that. Because the fact is, that whole part, that part where I nearly died, well, I nearly died trying to save him. Seriously. I was hoping he hadn't noticed, but I could tell by the look on his face that he totally had. Noticed, I mean.
And now he wanted to talk about it. But how could I talk about it? Without letting it slip? The L word, I mean.
"You know what," I said, very fast. "I don't want to talk. Is that okay? I really, really don't want to talk. I am all talked out."
Jesse lifted Spike off his lap and put him on the floor. Then he stood up.
What was he doing? I wondered. What was he doing?
I took a deep breath, and kept talking about not talking.
"I'm just - Look," I said, as he took a step toward me. "I'm just going to give Cee Cee a call and maybe we'll go to the beach or something, because I really ... I just need a day off."
Another step toward me. Now he was right in front of me.
"Especially," I said significantly, looking up at him, "from talking. That's what I especially need a day off from. Talking."
"Fine," he said. He reached up and cupped my face in both his hands. "We don't have to talk."
And that's when he kissed me.
On the lips.