Memory Lane

Chapter Twenty Seven

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled." -Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Twenty Seven

Aluminum tins of takeout in hand, Jesse and I begin the short trek back to his truck from the small take-out restaurant, a tucked away gem that feels sacred to just the two of us.

Vermont does not mess around when it comes to the weather. It's as if Mother Nature resides in this state and we feel the blast of each change in mood that she has full-force. Just three days ago, it was warm enough for me to wear nothing but a crop top and jeans to a party. Tonight, it's so cold I'm strongly regretting choosing to snag only Jesse's hoodie to cover my body on the way out the door to the support group.

He said he didn't need it back any time soon. So I plan on extending its visit with me for a while. When he saw me in it earlier, he most certainly did not complain. He just smiled to himself and sat next to me as Combover Carl started the group discussion.

Despite the way the weather threw a curveball at the thermostat and forced it down about thirty degrees, the chilly air did not deter Jesse and me to continue our after-group ritual of sharing cheap takeout and decompressing in the back of his truck. Only this time, we will do so with red noses and slightly chattering teeth.

Knowing Vermont, though, tomorrow it may end up being sunny with a high of 70. You never can tell.

Jesse and I reach his truck and I instantly notice the addition. To offset the now cold weather, Jesse added a massive, seemingly home-made quilt along with his ridiculous throw pillows in the truck bed. I smile. It's made up of a bunch of different patterns and designs, each taking up a single square that fills the giant, fluffy quilt.

"School project?" I tease. My breath puffs into the dark, night sky and I clench my shoulders as I shiver.

Suddenly, I can't wait to snuggle into it. I wonder if smells like him.

"For my grandmother back in, like, 1957."

I hum, "Girls learned how to make quilts while the boys learned arithmetic?"

Jesse's mouth quirks up in the corner and he rolls his eyes, dropping the tailgate to help me up. We set our takeout down and Jesse wordlessly takes my hand in his, his warm skin caressing mine as he tightens his grip for me to step up onto the tailgate.

In an instant, I remember how that hand felt as it brushed the bare skin between my jeans and  top when he rushed me to the bathroom at the party. How it caressed my face as he kissed me. And how it felt wrapped around my body, holding me close.

An event that we still have not talked about.

Things haven't been awkward. That's the good news. It's almost like we both are acting like the kiss didn't happen. Almost. The stolen looks and hidden smiles we've shared over the past couple of days have hinted to each of us that neither can seem to get it out of their mind.

My issue is that I still have the internal, moral dilemma that kept me up all night on Saturday. So far, no conclusion in sight aside from the feeling of desire that ignites my entire body every time I see him.

Then, of course, comes the nagging voice in the back of my mind that sounds annoyingly like Allen.

If things progress the way you both want them to, then you can't keep it from him forever.

Is it so wrong to want to continue the progression and just put the little tidbit about my past on the back burner?

I shake away my thoughts as we both settle into the back of the truck, giving him a coy grin.