Page 9 of The Idiot

“Oh, my God,” he gasps, cupping his hand over his mouth. “Seriously?”

I nod, because fuck if I’m repeating myself again. He’s still here, though. That gives me hope.

“Like since when?”

“Since… forever.” I shrug, hoping the power of persuasion makes him think it’s no big deal.

“Foreverforever?”

Turning my head, I squint at him. “Is there any other kind of forever?”

He sputters like the usual sarcastic part of his brain is still in there firing and wants to laugh at my dig. His face says the gears are still turning, though.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He huffs. “How comenobodysays anything?” He adds, louder, throwing both hands up.

Excited Jesse has one volume—look at me.

“Because ofthis.” I gesture to him, heaving a breath. “Listen to you. You’re freaking out.”

“I am not,” he pouts.

I flash him a challenging side-eye. He presses his lips tighter together, refusing to admit I'm right. The stubborn ass.

This is awkward already. I fucking knew it’d be awkward.

Great. What happens now?

He’s gone quiet on me. What on earth is the hamster wheel in his brain spinning about now?

“Melissa Freewell—” he blurts excitedly, making me flinch.

No. He’s not…

If he’s going to run through the list of every woman he thinks I messed around with, I’m going to ask the bartender for an ice pick to stab into my eardrums.

Shaking my head, I stare at the game on the TV above the bar. “I dropped her off at home. She had a headache, and you were preoccupied with Tara Gibbons.”

Silence. Good. Maybe it sunk in.

“Elaine McCutchen!”

Seriously? Are we playing proof of gay?

“No.”

“Deana Forester.”

“Nope.”

I wait for another name, another accusation that I must just be fucking with him or… ‘confused.’ I don’t know what he thinks, to be honest. My head is starting to throb, though. I’m torn between feeling like I’m on trial and drowning in guilt over letting him think otherwise for so long.

“So, have you ever…”

“What?” I ask, glancing over when he doesn’t finish his question.

Wrong move. He’s doing the finger-fighting thing again.

“Would you fucking knock that off? Jesus!”

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