Jesse is changing. Ever since he agreed to take the probation deal, he’s aloof, withdrawn, a million miles away from me, and I don’t know how to bring him back to me.

Every time I mention his moving in with me or ask him about job interviews, he changes the subject. Plus, he’s being secretive. The other night when I got back from my class he was talking on the phone, and when he realized I was there, he quickly ended the call. Odd, but not totally suspect. But the next day his phone rang three times and he declined every one and made some lame comment about it being a wrong number.

Now, before any judgments can be made, I’ll cut right to the chase: I’m still a bit insecure when it comes to Jesse’s and my relationship, especially after everything that has happened. Crazy, I know. We’ve known each other forever, but I’m still trying to find the balance between friend and lover.

After Jesse’s basketball practice tonight we made plans to chill. The past few weeks have been stressful, and I think we both need the downtime to reconnect. The plan is to order pizza and binge watch Pretty Little Liars—I asked, he agreed—so I’m completely taken off guard (and a little pissed when) I receive a text from him around 8:00 p.m.

Jesse: Going out for a few drinks.

I read the message three times to be sure that I didn’t misunderstand. What happened between now and two hours ago that caused him to change his mind? Furthermore, he’s unemployed, facing assault charges, and about to start probation. He honestly thinks that now is a good time to go to a bar? I don’t think so.

Fuming mad, my fingers stab the keys.

Riley: Are you serious?

Once I start the messages, I can’t stop.

Riley: Jes, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Riley: Jes.

Riley: Hello?

Riley: Why aren’t you answering me?

Riley: Call me.

Riley: CALL. ME.

Every message goes unanswered, and by the time I crawl into bed at ten-thirty, I’m livid. If he comes to my apartment after the bar, if he even thinks about crawling into bed with me, I’ll…cut off his dick. Okay, maybe not, because I seriously love his dick, but you get the point.

As I toss and turn, my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I jump up and grab the phone, hoping that it’s Jesse, but at the same time cursing myself for even caring. My heart deflates when I see a number I don’t recognize. I silence the call, but not even a minute later my phone buzzes again.

My brow furrows. It’s the same number as before. My voice is almost a whisper when I answer. “Hello?”

“Hello.” I can barely hear the voice over the background noise. There’s loud music thumping a strong bass line and lots of people talking.

“Hello?” I say again. “I think you may have the wrong number.”

“Is this Riley?” the voice questions louder. I identify the caller as female, her tone light and cheery. A bubble gum voice, and I half expect to hear the telltale sound of gum cracking.

“Yes?” My voice rises at the end. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who this is, but now really isn’t a good time.” I sneak a glance at the clock. It’s twelve in the freakin’ morning.

But Bubble Gum cuts me off. “There’s a guy here. Jesse. Told me to call you.”

My blood turns cold. “Jesse? Is he okay?

“Umm…” She pauses and my heart beats faster. “He’s not hurt or anything. But he’s in rough shape.”

The coiled spring wound tight inside my stomach explodes and I fall back against the headboard, allowing it to support my weight. Rough shape. I knew exactly what she meant…he’s drunk.

Bubble Gum’s voice pulls me out of my head. “Hello?” And then I hear her address someone over the din of music. “I’m talking to her now.”

“Riley.” I hear Jesse’s voice slur. Son of a bitch.

“Where is he?” I twine the loose thread from the duvet cover around my finger. Round and round, then let it unwind. Start again.

“Danny’s Place. Fifth and Broad.” She smacks her lips.

I know the place. “I know the place.”

“He’s pretty trashed. I snatched his keys from the bar when he went to the john. He’s freaking out. It’s either you or the cops.”

Please, don’t call the cops.

I force a strong exhale through my nose and close my eyes. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

“Riley.” Jesse eyes widen in delighted surprise when he sees me standing in the doorway of the bar. “I love this girl,” he says to no one in particular. “I fucking love her.” He slurs again.

He ambles over, leans into me, and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I shift away from him.

“Get in the car,” I say, trying to keep my voice even and authoritative. He blinks once but doesn’t move. “Jes,” I say, more forcefully. “Get in the car.”

I don’t wait to see if he listens before I walk over to the bar. I nestle between two barstools and signal to the bartender— Bubble Gum—and she nods in acknowledgment as she finishes pouring a beer.

“Hi.” She approaches and reaches underneath the bar before handing me Jesse’s keys.

“Thanks.” I slip them into my coat pocket. “Does he have a tab?”

She shakes her head. “No, I closed it out right before I called you.”

I nod. “Thanks for calling.”

I turn to walk away, but her voice stops me. “Hey!”

I turn to face her.

“I’m not sure what your deal is, but that guy really loves you.”

I nod rather than say aloud what I’m thinking: Then what the fuck is he doing here?