family congregated to see me for the first time in a year. Did I leave that part out?”
“I think so.”
Jesse laughed. “Well, you know. Figured we’ve slept together, you might as well meet the family.” When I shot him a look, he relented. “I’m kidding. Honestly thought if you were still scared of me, you’d feel better in a room full of my overly affectionate relatives.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I said just as one of his aunts came by to grab his face, smash a kiss on his cheek and walk away. “Especially not after that.”
Jesse gave the obligatory groan though I could tell he was reveling in the love. “Do I have lipstick on me now?” he turned back to me.
“All over,” I lied as I watched him laugh and wipe angrily at his cheek with a napkin. It was odd seeing Jesse in such a normal family setting. I wondered where his mother was.
“Did I get it?”
I took the moment to study him as he looked up at me, his brow slightly crinkled. God, I couldn’t put a finger on it but he still did remind me of all my high school crushes. “Yeah, you got it,” I finally murmured as the waiter came by to pour me champagne. I was surprised when Jesse greeted him with a few quick lines of fluent Italian, but I had my expression neutralized by the time his green eyes returned to me. Lifting his glass, he gave a little tilt of his head.
“Cheers.”
“To what?”
He smirked as he scanned the menu. “You being so hot that Abram forgot how to be an assassin for a couple months. You’re a bona fide lifesaver, babe,” he said, taking a big swig of his drink. The girly sound that bubbled from my lips surprised us both. Jesse looked up from his menu, breaking into a slow but massive smile. “Christ, what was that? Was that a giggle? Make that sound again.”
“No.”
“Come on. That was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
I snorted. “Leave me alone.”
“Fine. But I’m gonna make you do it again before the end of the night,” he murmured, trailing off as he went back to reading the wine list. “I think we’re gonna go with the Barolo,” he said, running his hand over his close-shaved head, concentrating on his choice as if we were taking a test. I couldn’t help studying him. It was the same face he made when I knew him as Sean – when he was trying to remember the name of a skatepark. Was it the place in Baltimore where he cracked his head open or was it at Pier 62? He’d clawed at his then-shaggy hair as he tried to get the story right. I remembered every word of what he recalled because I’d loved the stories. My favorite had been the time he’d taught his niece how to “shred.” “She was doing really good but she’s a perfectionist, so she ended up losing all spirit after taking one bad spill. And I kept trying to tell her that every skateboarder falls but she wasn’t having it so I was like, ‘fuck it, I know what to do.’ Went twenty-five miles an hour over a stick, wiped the fuck out in the name of family. Four stitches on my face but she just landed her first ollie last week so guess it was worth it.”
I watched Jesse bite his knuckle as he studied the menu. “Were any of those even true?”
He blinked up at me. “What?”
“The day we slept together. You came over to say thank you for bandaging the finger I’m sure you cut on purpose to meet me, since you didn’t actually live across the hall. We hung out and drank and then you started telling me about how you got your scars. How bad you wiped out at Pier 62 and all these other funny stories. Were they even true?” I asked.
Jesse gave a short laugh. “Yes.” He paused, eyeing me with amusement as I tried to read his face for hints of lying. “Just so you know, the skater kid you met before you found out my real name – that was me. Still me. My general preference is to just chill and ride my board to the park
“I think so.”
Jesse laughed. “Well, you know. Figured we’ve slept together, you might as well meet the family.” When I shot him a look, he relented. “I’m kidding. Honestly thought if you were still scared of me, you’d feel better in a room full of my overly affectionate relatives.”
“I’m not scared of you,” I said just as one of his aunts came by to grab his face, smash a kiss on his cheek and walk away. “Especially not after that.”
Jesse gave the obligatory groan though I could tell he was reveling in the love. “Do I have lipstick on me now?” he turned back to me.
“All over,” I lied as I watched him laugh and wipe angrily at his cheek with a napkin. It was odd seeing Jesse in such a normal family setting. I wondered where his mother was.
“Did I get it?”
I took the moment to study him as he looked up at me, his brow slightly crinkled. God, I couldn’t put a finger on it but he still did remind me of all my high school crushes. “Yeah, you got it,” I finally murmured as the waiter came by to pour me champagne. I was surprised when Jesse greeted him with a few quick lines of fluent Italian, but I had my expression neutralized by the time his green eyes returned to me. Lifting his glass, he gave a little tilt of his head.
“Cheers.”
“To what?”
He smirked as he scanned the menu. “You being so hot that Abram forgot how to be an assassin for a couple months. You’re a bona fide lifesaver, babe,” he said, taking a big swig of his drink. The girly sound that bubbled from my lips surprised us both. Jesse looked up from his menu, breaking into a slow but massive smile. “Christ, what was that? Was that a giggle? Make that sound again.”
“No.”
“Come on. That was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
I snorted. “Leave me alone.”
“Fine. But I’m gonna make you do it again before the end of the night,” he murmured, trailing off as he went back to reading the wine list. “I think we’re gonna go with the Barolo,” he said, running his hand over his close-shaved head, concentrating on his choice as if we were taking a test. I couldn’t help studying him. It was the same face he made when I knew him as Sean – when he was trying to remember the name of a skatepark. Was it the place in Baltimore where he cracked his head open or was it at Pier 62? He’d clawed at his then-shaggy hair as he tried to get the story right. I remembered every word of what he recalled because I’d loved the stories. My favorite had been the time he’d taught his niece how to “shred.” “She was doing really good but she’s a perfectionist, so she ended up losing all spirit after taking one bad spill. And I kept trying to tell her that every skateboarder falls but she wasn’t having it so I was like, ‘fuck it, I know what to do.’ Went twenty-five miles an hour over a stick, wiped the fuck out in the name of family. Four stitches on my face but she just landed her first ollie last week so guess it was worth it.”
I watched Jesse bite his knuckle as he studied the menu. “Were any of those even true?”
He blinked up at me. “What?”
“The day we slept together. You came over to say thank you for bandaging the finger I’m sure you cut on purpose to meet me, since you didn’t actually live across the hall. We hung out and drank and then you started telling me about how you got your scars. How bad you wiped out at Pier 62 and all these other funny stories. Were they even true?” I asked.
Jesse gave a short laugh. “Yes.” He paused, eyeing me with amusement as I tried to read his face for hints of lying. “Just so you know, the skater kid you met before you found out my real name – that was me. Still me. My general preference is to just chill and ride my board to the park
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