Jesse had about as much control over her temper as she had over the weather. And no, she wasn't a witch or a rainmaker. Any wrongdoing could set her off, from having a random passenger in her car diss the music she had selected, to finding only half-fresh mushrooms at the grocery store.
She understood the implications of her weakness, including alienation, poor friendship retention, and the label that started with a b and rhymed with witch. Secretly, she longed to be cool and collected, she even went so far as to study people who were of an even temperament. But she could not find the switch inside her mind that turned off her explosive fuse.
Bobby liked Jesse. He thought the curve of her neck could not be more perfect, that her eyes almost glowed with their grey hue, and that her smile had a touch of wickedness that filled his mind with impure thoughts. The only obstacle between him and the act of asking Jesse out remained her temper.
Bobby was not a strong man, nor a self-confident one. He simply existed, and on a plane that most days did not involve interaction with the opposite sex. Want as he did, he could not move towards the getting, only the yearning existed.
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