One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,45

mean, you don't exactly seem the type to dye your hair,” I say, gesturing at his incredibly straight-edge jeans, button-down shirt, and hoodie.

Jess chuckles. “Yeah, not really,” he says. “I lost a bet.”

I wait for him to go on, but he doesn't say anything else. “Come on,” I plead. “We've got nothing to do but sit here for hours. Open up a little bit.”

He shrugs. “This girl at a party boasted she could twist a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue. I didn't believe her. I was wrong.”

Oh. “I can't believe she had you dye your hair black for that,” I say disparagingly, as if anyone could tie a cherry stem with her tongue. Although maybe I can. I can't say I've ever tried.

“Actually,” Jess says, grimacing. “It was supposed to be pink, but my hair was too dark and it didn't show. So she dyed it black.”

“You agreed to a bet where you'd have to dye your hair pink?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, sounding embarrassed. “It was a party,” Jess explains. “I was drunk. And, well…” he flushes. “I kind of wanted to sleep with her.”

Oh again. “So is she your girlfriend now?” I inquire casually.

“No.” Jess clears his throat. “It was just, uh, a one time thing.”

“So this is how guys try to get girls to sleep with them these days,” I muse. “By dyeing their hair pink. Or trying to. How very seductive.”

Jess snorts. “Yeah, well, it's better than Thom Derrek's technique.” There's an awkward pause, and I can tell Jess is regretting having made a joke about that. I don't care, but it seems like he's afraid I might. He gives me a sideways look. “I've been meaning to, uh, ask you about that whole thing. About how you're doing. Are you, you know, okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Jess looks hesitant about bringing it up, but it's clear from his worried expression that he's been thinking about it.

To be honest, I haven't been thinking about it. I haven't thought about Thom Derrek since…I don't know. It feels like weeks, but I haven't even been gone that long. And I know it was awful, I know I was really fucking scared, but somehow it feels so long ago, like some other life entirely. And even as I hunch my shoulders against the wind and watch the farms and cornfields whipping by, I know that I like this life much better.

“I'm fine. Really,” I assure him. “I was upset, obviously.” I bite my lip, remembering how I'd screamed at Thom Derrek and shoved him off of me. “It's why I ran out of the house and left without a change of clothes or money or anything—but it's not why I kept running. I mean, I would never have to see Thom Derrek again regardless, I know that—my father isn't that bad. It was just kind of the last straw. It was definitely the worst thing that my father has done, but it's not like it was the only thing. Does that make sense?”

Jess shrugs. “I guess. What else did he do?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Just…little stuff. Like I would go shopping with my friends, and he would call US Weekly so they could go take pictures—even though no one would care about me if he would just stop trying so hard to make them. I'm nobody, and I hate those people that are famous just for being famous. It was humiliating. I mean, I went to go buy my first bra, and the whole world knew about it. It got so bad that I stopped wanting to go out anymore, and I kind of lost all my friends. I get it, I was boring, plus my wanting to hide from the cameras all the time meant they wouldn't be photographed either, which they weren't too happy about.” I push my hands up into the sleeves of my sweatshirt and pull my knees up under the hem. It might be April, but it's really cold.

Jess wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in closer. “Come here,” he says. “I'm sure they'd pull over so you could ride inside if you want.”

I shake my head and smile at him. “No, I'm okay.”

“Didn't you ever try talking to your dad?” Jess asks. “Explain to him how you felt about that stuff? It's just—he's all you've got, Bee.”

“Of course I tried,” I sigh. “But he just couldn't understand it. It was completely outside the realm