Page 39 of Jesse
Jesse drummedhis fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel. “So… when I asked where you wanted to go to celebrate, I didn’t expect you’d want to come back here.”
I glanced out the window. The festival grounds, now empty of bustling crowds, stretched out like a ghost town under the dim parking lot lights.
The faint hum of machinery from the few remaining food trucks was the only sound breaking the quiet.
“It’s not exactly romantic,” I admitted, “but I saw in the group chat that there’s a last-minute get-together tonight. You know, for everyone who didn’t make it to the next round. It’s kind of their send-off. I figured it’d be the last chance to talk to everyone and maybe see if there’s anything we missed, info-wise.”
Jesse turned to me, his brows knitting together. “Group chat?”
“Yeah.” I blinked at him. “You didn’t join it when the festival started?”
He shook his head. “What group chat?”
I tilted my head, studying him. “The one they set up during the briefing. It was mandatory, part of the festival rules. You know, for official announcements, schedule changes, stuff like that.”
Jesse shrugged. “Didn’t seem important. If I need to talk to anyone, I just go over to their truck.” He flashed a grin. “Group chats aren’t really my thing.”
I leaned back in my seat. “You forgot to join, didn’t you? Did you even go to the briefing?”
Jesse shot me a look, his grin faltering just a little.
“The group chat didn’t seem important. I’m in contact with most of the regulars anyway, people I see at other festivals or on the circuit,” he said, dodging my other question entirely.
“Circuit?” I echoed, unable to resist teasing him. “Wow, listen to you, all professional and worldly.”
Jesse’s ears turned pink, and he busied himself adjusting the rearview mirror.
“It’s what it’s called,” he muttered.
I chuckled, but something about his flushed cheeks made me pause.
He looked cute like this. Flustered Jesse was a rare sight, and I was starting to think I liked it more than I should.
“Well,” I said, shaking off the thought, “the group chat is mostly for official stuff. Tonight’s gathering is more of an informal thing, like a closing party. The winners are doing the cooking.”
I pulled out my phone and tilted it so he could see the message thread.
Jesse leaned in closer, the warmth of him brushing against my side. My senses sharpened in an instant, catching that familiar, comforting scent of his.
I wondered briefly if I still smelled like the kitchen. I’d scrubbed my arms twice to get rid of the lingering oil and spices, but maybe it wasn’t enough.
Jesse straightened, breaking the moment.
“We could still go somewhere nice to celebrate,” he said, his voice soft but earnest.
I hesitated, the weight of everything pressing down again.
Preston was still recovering at the clinic, and we didn’t have a single solid lead yet. Taking time off felt wrong.
But at the same time, I wanted this, wanted to spend time with Jesse, even if it was in the middle of a case.
“Let’s just check it out for a bit,” I said finally.
We stepped out of the truck and headed toward the area behind the festival grounds. The space felt entirely different from the daytime chaos. Now, it felt quieter, more intimate.
Fairy lights were strung up between the trucks, their golden shimmer adding a touch of magic to the scene. Had those been there before? I couldn’t remember noticing them.
Five food trucks were still running, their owners cooking up small plates for the attendees.
