Progress (Progress #1) (4 page)

“You want go someplace with me right now?” I asked.

Idiot. I’m such an idiot.

He walked back to me, contemplating, before hopping in my car. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest like a stubborn little boy.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” I murmured.

Welcome to the fucking Twilight Zone.

Chapter Four

Charlie

I sat in the driver’s seat. Not only was I debating where to take him, but I also wondered how the hell I’d gotten myself in the predicament. Next thing I knew, I’d be running off with him to join the carnival.

“You wanna go park with me?” I asked.

As soon as I saw the look on his face, I realized my mistake. “Holy shit!
To a
park. Go
to a
park. Outside of the car. With trees. And grass. A bench. No making out involved.” My cheeks flushed a bright pink, and I wanted to cry in mortification.

He snickered and kept his head down, giving me a sideways grin. “Yeah, Charlie, let’s go
to a
park.”

I shook my head, and pulled out of the parking lot, grateful again for the darkness that concealed my embarrassment. “Can we just start over? Hi, Jesse. My name is Charlie. And I have no idea why it’s so hard to talk to you,” I laughed.

He stared out his window momentarily, then faced me again. “I’m not big on apologies. But…if I made you feel uncomfortable back at the restaurant… Well, it’s not usually this difficult for me, either. I don’t know if it’s you, or me, or just the two of us together.”

I guess that was sort of an apology. But I still wasn’t sure if he owed me one. There was something charmingly innocent about him, boyish, without filter. Yet there was something else that was completely sinister.

The Christy thing was bugging me. She was too young and naïve. Jesse had better have a good explanation for what he was doing with her—otherwise he just came off as a pervert. But I didn’t want to bring it up too soon; our situation was already rocky at best.

After ten minutes of silence, I pulled into a parking lot close to my parents’ house. With a baseball diamond on one end, the park also had a small pond for ice skating in the winter and an array of playground equipment made of blue industrial plastic. The wooden sign was branded
Sky Sight Park
, and there was a great view of the Twin Cities beyond the tree line.

Jesse paused before opening his door. “Why did you choose this park?”

I hesitated, only because I didn’t know how it would sound. But the night couldn’t have gotten any weirder, so I thought
fuck it
.

“Well,” I began, “I was part of a volunteer group in charge of saving the wetlands here. They’re some of the only ones around that are home to four different frog and amphibian species close to making the Endangered Species List.”

“Frogs?” He dipped his chin, and his blond hair fell onto his forehead. “This park is sentimental to you because of frogs?”

“No. Not sentimental. I mean, I’m not an environmentalist or anything, but I like to help out where and when I can.”

“So did you save the frogs then?” he asked, opening the door.

I got out of the car and lit a cigarette, handing one to him. “Mostly,” I said. “I didn’t have to go door to door petitioning the locals, but I studied up on the species that resided here. I gathered a lot of information for their case studies.” I shrugged.

“You must really like frogs.”

I noted his sarcasm and smiled widely. “Not really. It was the principle.”

He nodded and we continued walking toward the pond.

“So are you some Little Miss Do-Gooder? Do you comb the local papers to see how you can become an upstanding member of society? Have you ever flown to Africa and fed the children dying of AIDS, or will you be doing laundry this weekend for a quadriplegic in your neighborhood all because he fought for our country?”

Was he making fun of me? “Excuse me?”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t miss a step. I, however, had stopped walking, and waited for him to respond.

When he realized I wasn’t following him, he turned. “What? It just seems like you’re trying to save something that might not be worth saving.”

My face flushed and I puffed out my chest indignantly. “Are you really this much of a prick, or am I just lucky? Who are you to judge which life is valuable and which isn’t? Are you saying the children dying in Africa and a wounded war vet aren’t worth saving?”

I don’t think he realizes what he says half the time.

“All life is valuable, Charlie,” he said, taking a few steps back to me. “But I’ve got too much on my own plate to have time to worry about someone else. That’s their problem. Let natural selection sort it out. If we don’t adapt, we don’t survive.”

I stared out over the pond listening to the chirping of those damn frogs. The moon shone brightly above, and the stars flickered in the dark blue sky. What Jesse said certainly wasn’t false, but it made me question my entire existence. If it weren’t for my compassion, I had nothing—barely a single redeeming quality.

“Never mind, Charlie. This night was a bad idea. I’m heading home.”

I stood up straight, and I was beginning to think that the wrinkle in my forehead was about to become permanent.

What is he going to do? Walk?

He strolled past me, brushing his fingers against my hand. I flinched at the contact.

But I didn’t think he noticed.

It wasn’t until he was almost to the sidewalk that I finally found my voice. “Are you walking away from me, Jess?” I shouted.

I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not, but he continued toward the road and sat down on the curb.

Okay, enough. Just let this go. My stomach hurts and this is proving to take a hell of a lot more patience than I have at the moment. I haven’t eaten in two days, and there’s a tub of Ben and Jerry’s at home with my name all over it.

His confliction was obvious, his mind tumbling with a mess of thoughts he couldn’t seem to find words for. What thoughts he
did
have words for were sharp and callous. Most people in his situation would’ve tried to explain themselves; I was used to that. I rarely had to pry information from people. There was a part of me that knew I’d consider myself a hypocrite if I left him all alone. What kind of compassion would that show?

But I was just as confused as he was.

He stayed on the curb, and by the time I reached my car I was only a few feet from him. His square chin and jaw lit up in profile from the streetlamps behind him. Smoke from his cigarette formed a white cloud above him, drifting away into the night air.

I was so caught up in watching him that I ignored the first honk.

But the second one came, and we both turned at the same time.

“Jesse!” I shouted, but he remained calm, taking another drag from his cigarette.

My heart raced with every second that he sat still. His feet were in the road, his cigarette hung loosely from his lips, and every swerving car solidified how reckless and careless he was.

The white smoke swirled over his head, and he raked his hand through his hair. He took another drag, exhaling another cloud of smoke through his nose.

Another car bellowed its horn and I ran to him, pulling him off the city street curb and onto the grass. “Are you crazy?” I shouted. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He smiled, resting on his back and looking at the night sky. I sat silently next to him, a strange sort of expression on my face; somewhere between
are you an idiot
and
natural selection, my ass
.

“Crazy,” he whispered, taking another pull from his smoke.

Turning his head toward me, he had the same goofy smile on his face. “You think I’m crazy?”

“I…” I started, but lost my words within his stare. When he looked away, the slow pressure that had been building in my chest eased slightly.

“What’s going on with you and Adam?” he asked, completely unaware that this wasn’t the time or place to bring it up. Not to mention completely off the beaten path from what we’d just been discussing. And Adam? Good God.
Why?

“Gross.”

He laughed. “Yeah, he is. Stay away from him.”

I found the entire scenario to be unbelievable. He was all over the place, jumping from one subject to another with hardly any connection. He didn’t seem to care what he said, or whether his words hurt. He threw out statements that were barbed and cutting, yet he had just chosen to spend the last hour with me. It didn’t make any sense.

“Not that I disagree with you,” I said, “but I’ll have you know that I received the same warning about
you
. People said you were trouble. So I’ve decided not to put stock into anyone’s word until I see for myself.”

“You were warned about me?” he asked, looking amused.

“Yep.” I smiled. “I was told you did a lot of drugs and hit on the underage hostesses.” I stood and wiped the grass from my jeans.

He laughed so hard that his entire body shook. Locking his fingers behind his head, he looked at me again. “Well, those are both true, so I guess that makes me a bad guy, doesn’t it? Or you could consider the source that told you, and realize they’re not much good for anything besides gossip.”

“Did you know that I’ve been friends with half the staff my whole life? A
trusted friend
gave me the information. Let me guess: you get in trouble for that mouth a lot?” I laughed.

“Not with the ladies.” He smirked.

I huffed. “Well then I guess I’m no lady, because I find you to be fascinatingly rude. Strange. And I just don’t think this…” I motioned between us, “…whatever this is, is going to work.”

Just as I was about to ask him if he wanted a ride, he stopped me.

“You give a shit?” he said.

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’m psycho, yet you just tried to save my life. Why do you give a shit if I live or die?”

“Just because you say some harsh stuff at times doesn’t mean I want you to die. Though the psycho part is still up for debate,” I added.

“Why?” He sat up. “No offense, but I wouldn’t care if you lived or died.”

“You’re on a roll.” My jaw dropped. “How girls can find you charming is beyond my scope of comprehension.” I took a few steps back toward him. “Unless you’re only choosing the young and insecure ones for that reason.” I raised a brow. “Do you really have sex with the hostesses?”

He groaned, wiping his hands over his face. Then he flipped to his knees, bounced to a stand, and straightened his shirt. “Not until they’re eighteen, Red. I won’t touch them until they’re eighteen.”

I snorted and bit back a smile. “I bet there are hundreds of fathers in this city thanking their lucky stars for that confession,” I teased. “But if I see you cruising near the elementary school by my house, I’m calling the police.”

He ignored me and walked toward the pond again.

I pulled my key out from the door. “Where are you going? Don’t you want a ride?”

“Nah. I’m going to stay here with the frogs. Seems they’re a success story, and I always root for the underdog,” he said over his shoulder as he continued out to the water.

Okay.
I slouched, watching his silhouette flicker in the darkness as he took long and deliberate strides away from me.

“You coming?” he yelled.

I didn’t trust anything about the person he presented himself to be. I never feared for my physical safety, but there was a small part of me that feared for
his
. Somewhere inside of him a familiarity flickered, and for how irrational and complex his attitude, I was completely drawn to the way his mind worked.

I considered my options. I could’ve left him there, alone with his erratic thoughts. Or I could’ve stayed, and found out a little bit more about why I was so intrigued with him. No one ever looked at me like he did, and there was a part of me that felt like he saw me for who I was and not just another number on a scale.

It was enough for me to follow him back to the pond with slight hesitancy.

Jess sat down on the grass and patted the spot next to him. “Saved a seat for you.”

“You’re so confusing,” I grumbled. Yet I couldn’t help but smile at his charm, his inability to communicate, and the contradiction between the two. Hot and cold was an understatement.

“I know, Red. Bear with me. I’ve never had a lot of friends.” He looked around the park and laughed. “But I guess that’s kind of obvious.”

I took in a deep breath and looked out at the pond. “It’s okay, Jess.” I nudged his arm. “We can work on it.”

We leaned back at the same time, stretching our legs out in front of us, and my hand accidentally landed on his. “Oops. Sorry,” I said, and scooted over.

“So what now?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want to talk some more?”

He blinked, and looked down in thought. “Nah. I’m talked out for the night. How about we smoke?”

I smiled and handed him my pack. “You’d better start buying your own cigarettes or I’m going to think you’re using me for my Marlboros.”

“I’ll buy you a pack tomorrow. Promise.”

We sat there through the night. I’d thought about asking him about the drums he claimed to play, or what kind of bicycling he did. But once we stretched out and lay flat on our backs listening to the noises of the night, I didn’t much care for small talk. And to be quite honest, I still didn’t trust why he was still there with me, or what would fly from his mouth next. So I didn’t ask any questions.