Page 56 of Light My Fire Three Times
“Yeah, a while,” I mutter, arms crossed, stepping back. “Long enough that I assumed you’d left town. For good.”
Her brow flicks up, a little challenge in her eyes.
“Gone?” She tilts her head. “Really? That’s what you think?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to keep my voice calm, but the tension in my jaw gives me away. “Yeah. Done. You have a new boyfriend. We stopped seeing one another. You left town. That’s life, Van.”
She shifts her weight, glancing at the grill and then back at me, a little too nervously for someone who’s usually all fire. “Listen… can I come in? Just to talk. I… I don’t want to do this on the porch like some weird neighbor spat.”
I hesitate. Every instinct screams no, but the polite part of me, hell, the part of me that remembers how she used to make me laugh, the way she could disarm me with a look, forces my hand.
“Fine. Five minutes. No longer. And don’t get comfortable.”
She steps inside, brushing past the threshold with that sway she’s always had. My chest tightens again, memories I don’t want to come back skittering along the edges. I gesture vaguely toward the kitchen.
“Sit. Not on the counters, please. And I swear if you touch the grill…”
“Relax, Jesse,” she says, grinning, dropping onto a chair. “I’m not here to start a kitchen fire.”
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, scanning her. She’s still the same Vanessa. Sharp, beautiful, infuriating. My pulse beats a little faster than I like.
“So,” I start, trying to keep it casual. “How’s life treating you? The new guy… you two still a thing?”
Her smile falters, just for a second. “Not anymore. We broke up a little while ago. It's… complicated.” She shrugs, but there’s a weight to it, something she’s not saying. “Anyway… I’ve been thinking about you.”
The words hit like a punch. My jaw tightens.
“Thinking about me?” I echo, trying to keep steady, but the heat in my chest rises.
She leans forward, soft now, coaxing. “Yeah. A lot. Since we… ended. I’ve been confused. Stupid. I realized maybe I didn’t… I didn’t appreciate what we had, what I had with you.”
I blink, gripping the counter, trying to force my voice into shape. “Vanessa… we were casual. It wasn’t some serious thing.”
Her eyes flash, half amusement, half challenge.
“Not serious?” she repeats, leaning back, tilting her head like she’s trying to read me. “Jesse, we went out alot. We didn’t just… text occasionally and grab drinks. You made time for me. You kissed me like you meant it. That’s serious.”
I laugh, bitter, trying to shrug it off, but it comes out more like a groan. “Van, it was fun. It was something. I liked you, yeah. But we didn’t… we didn’t do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. You were dating other people. I was… doing my own thing. It wasn’t?—”
“You were doing your own thing?” she interrupts, leaning forward now, eyes glinting. “Jesse, you were staring at me like I was the only one in the room every time we hung out. You think I didn’t notice?”
I take a step back, running a hand down my face, trying to control the heat in my chest. “Van… you’re twisting this. I wasn’t… look, we both knew where it stood. Casual, right? We didn’t put labels on it, didn’t… plan for forever.”
She scoffs, a teasing, dangerous smirk tugging at her lips. “Casual? You call that casual? The way you showed up for me,the way you made me laugh, the way you… Jesse, you were anything but casual. You’re full of it.”
I open my mouth, then close it, because I know she’s right. I did care more than I should’ve. I did show up. I did laugh, tease, and make her feel like she mattered.
But this… this “I want a second chance” crap, now? It’s the wrong timing, the wrong energy.
I know things are kinda messy, but this isn’t a good idea. No way.
Her smile sharpens, that dangerous curve I used to fall for. “Since when do you play safe, Jesse?”
Before I can answer, she moves fast. Two steps and she’s in my space, pressing close enough that her perfume fills my lungs. Vanilla, sharp spice, and memory. My pulse stumbles. I push back against the counter, but she just follows, her hand sliding up the edge.
“Van,” I warn, but she doesn’t flinch.
She tilts her head, eyes glinting as if I’m the one playing coy.
