Dead Politician Society

Chapter 31: Jonathan

Jonathan reached for Jessica’s hand and pulled back before making contact.

Such a wuss.

But he couldn’t afford to screw this up.

“Do you really think churches should pay property taxes?” she asked. “Or is that what you think Dr. Easton’s opinion would be?”

He caught their reflection in an art store window. They looked like a couple. Both tall, both lanky. Both casually good-looking. He reached his hand out again, pulled away again before contact.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course churches should pay their own expenses. Why should taxpayers cover them?”

It was well past four, but the sun was still strong. It felt like they had all the time in the world before the speech on campus they’d agreed to attend together. It wasn’t exactly dinner and a movie, but in a way it was better. Their first date was about their shared interest of politics.

She flicked a strand of blond hair from her face. She was so pretty; he couldn’t stand to look at her sometimes. She wore almost no makeup, was always in jeans, and sometimes didn’t even brush her hair. Still…perfection. He reached again and pulled back quickly. How did other men do this? He should have gone on practice dates, with girls who didn’t matter so much.

“It’s not that I disagree with you, Jon. But I don’t see how it’s a Tree-Hugger concept. Can you amend your bill so the money from churches goes to fund conservation, or something?” She stepped aside to avoid walking over a grate.

“Are you afraid of something?” Jonathan asked with a grin. She wasn’t wearing heels, which was the only reason he could think of for avoiding the sidewalk grate.

“Yeah, I’m afraid of falling in, landing on a subway track, and being squished by the next northbound train.”

He laughed. “We’re nowhere near a subway line.”

“Okay. So I’m afraid of rats. I don’t know why—I’ve always avoided those things.”

He reached out again, and this time grabbed her hand. “I’ll protect you from the rats.”

“Thanks.” She squeezed his hand and left it there, holding his.

Damn, that felt electric. But now what? Were they supposed to walk along like this? He couldn’t believe he had never held anyone’s hand. Not since he was a kid crossing the street with his mom. Which—thank goodness—had never felt like this.

“So, um…” He faltered at conversation and finally blurted, “Your bill that you brought to class this morning seemed a bit deranged.”

Jessica frowned. He liked the way her lips curled down, like a child trying to solve a puzzle. “I guess I’m still too angry to make sense. But my dad would still be alive today—working to protect wildlife—if the hospital emergency system was actually set up for emergencies.”

“Oh, so that’s the tree-hugging connection? Your dad was a biologist. Because otherwise I’d say your bill is about as far away from our party’s mandate as mine is.” He said it with a lift in his voice, trying to keep things light. He pointed down Baldwin Street, where they were turning.

He steered Jessica around an old fish crate that was particularly smelly. “The aneurysm already took your dad’s life. Don’t let it take yours, too.”

Her pale blue eyes darted toward him. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

Yes, he did. But if he told her how long he’d been watching her, studying her, memorizing her class schedule, she would—maybe correctly—run the other way.