“I’m Jessie.” She holds out her hand to Bobby, who gives it a vigorous shake.

“Bobby.” He’s grinning like the fucking Cheshire Cat, looking between Jessie and me.

“Nice to meet you.”

An awkward silence surrounds the three of us. Take the fucking hint, dude.

Bobby leans closer to me and whispers, “Nice.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I grind out. My friends are fucking idiots.

Jessie’s eyes snap closed and she lets out a loud, self-conscious laugh. I grab her hand and tug her toward the car.

“Your putters,” Bobby calls to my back.

“Keep ’em,” I growl, opening the passenger’s-side door for Jessie, and she slides in.

“Nice to meet you too, Jessie.” Bobby gives her a stupid finger wave. She holds up a hand, pink surging on her cheeks. I slam the door and shoot Bobby a death stare.

Jessie is creepy quiet the whole way to her place. She’s never quiet. I feel like shit. I fucked up, but I’m not good at apologies. I glance over at her. She’s watching the world pass by, an empty look on her face.

I clear my throat. “Bobby’s an asshole.”

“He’s not the only one.” Her voice is soft, but her words are brutal.

“Excuse me?” I grit out.

“You heard me.” She doesn’t waver, her tone easy and aloof. She’s fucking pissed.

She turns to face me, eyes boring into the side of my face for asking a fucking stupid question. I keep my gaze locked out through the windshield, trying not to squirm under her angry glare. Silence engulfs us. I love silence. Quiet is my peace, but this isn’t that. This is torture. I’m used to her constant chattering. Teasing or seducing—she’s always talking. Except now. Now I’m not worth her words and it’s a knife to my fucking gut.

She’s opening her door and jumping out before I’ve even come to a complete stop in front of her house. I turn off the engine and chase after her ass. By the time I make it to her, she’s got her keys in the door. Something tells me that if she makes it across that threshold, I’m not going to see her again. A few hours ago, that was the goal. I was trying to chase her way. Mission accomplished. Let’s throw a fucking party. Now I care enough to fight with her.

I wrap an arm around her waist and brace against the doorframe to keep her from pulling us forward. From pulling away.

“Sorry. I fucked up. I didn’t think we’d get caught,” I say into her soft hair.

She crosses her arms. Her back is straight and her body is tense. I squeeze her tight, silently asking for a response.