Unscripted - Nicole Kronzer Page 0,71
in his back pocket for it but still held it out of reach. “But first—”
I rolled my eyes again.
“How does your stomach feel?”
I wanted to jump up and down and be excited—I really did. But— “It feels . . . worried.”
“Worried?”
“Look. I’m here for improv. And Ben—”
“I hate that guy.”
“I know. You’ll hate him even more after I tell you what he did to my script.”
Will just growled.
“Apparently, I have terrible instincts when it comes to guys.”
“Z—”
“Ben is awful, but I liked him. I wanted him to touch me. To kiss me. Well, at first. Until I realized I was terrible at kissing—”
“I told you—”
“I know, I know. At the very least, jury’s out. But what’s not to say Jesse’s terrible in some terrible way? Clearly, I can’t trust my instincts. So, what do I trust?”
Will closed his eyes. He exhaled and opened them again, smiling. “Look. You knew Jonas liked me before I did. Those are instincts.”
“So, I have them about other people but not for myself.”
“Maybe it’s easier to see these things for other people. While I couldn’t see that Jonas liked me, I knew Ben was bad news. And I have good feelings about Jesse. Maybe this is what siblings are for. To clearly see the things the other person is too close to see.”
I glanced at the flowers. I’d noticed the small, bright yellow ones, and the kind with the long, dark coral petals in the fields around camp. But somehow, they were even lovelier together.
“You have two jobs before you come to this bonfire,” he said. “In this order: One, make a list of the ways Ben is an asshole. Two, read Jesse’s note. That order. Promise me.”
I nodded and lay the flowers on the dresser. He handed over the note.
I immediately unfolded it.
“Zelda!”
“I’m my own woman, and you can’t tell me what to do!” I pushed him out of the cabin, swung the screen door closed, and locked it.
He laughed and yelled, “Please do the other thing!”
“I will if I feel like it!”
“Fine.” Smirking, he shook his head and disappeared.
I threw my bag onto Mattress Island, kicked off my shoes, and somersaulted into a spread eagle. Then I rolled over on my stomach and smoothed out Jesse’s note.
Hey, Zelda—
The disappointment is not all yours. Don’t be selfish. Unfortunately, I’m not free tomorrow night because we have a very cult-y, all-camp ceremony. Will says you don’t have a scheduled practice tomorrow morning, but that Ben has been playing pretty fast and loose with the calendar. If you find that you’re free, I’m on rock cairn duty, and I’d love to show you a new hike. I’ll wait at our big rock around 11:30 for a little while and hope you can make it.
Don’t worry about bringing food—I’ll make us each a sandwich for lunch. If you can’t come, I’ll just eat your sandwich.
You know, I usually wish I’d brought a second sandwich, so maybe I’ll just make myself two sandwiches—three sandwiches total. Unless you want two, too? Tell you what—I’ll bring four sandwiches. Don’t feel pressure to eat two, you can just eat—
(Your brother has just told me to knock it off with the sandwiches already. I am deferring to his better judgment.)
I’ll also be at the gate Monday night at 7. We can try for that night walk again. Or you can send your brother with excuses. (Now he’s telling me to wrap it up. He’s very funny, btw. I can tell you’re related.)
Reclaiming my half of the disappointment,
Jesse
I closed my eyes. How did my stomach feel? Like it wanted to flip over. Like it wanted to gush and analyze every word of this note. Like it wanted to beg Will for all the details—how long did it take him to write it? Did he chew on the back of the pen when he was thinking? Bite his lip?
Maybe I should run over to the Boy Scout camp and find Jesse now. Tell him I got out of rehearsal early.
Make active choices.
Running to Boy Scout camp at night, though. That was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I scrambled to my feet and dug around in my bag for The Scene Must Win, opening it at random. Okay, Jane. Should I go and try to find Jesse?
“It can be very tempting to reach for the cheap, base joke,” the book declared. “Bodily functions can certainly be funny, but they rarely serve as solid foundation for a scene.”
I frowned. That didn’t really fit my situation. I closed my eyes.