WILD HEARTS.

.

❛ Uh– you know, like… Plant beef burgers, for vegetarians, ❜ she said a little more quietly. The choice to not eat meat was popular among the people she knew but not for everyone, she knew that. She would have recommended him the normal burger but she hadn’t actually tried them, so how would she if they were good? When the male the starter raising his voice at the cashier to hire Nadia, sha laughed a litrle and waved a hand in front of herself.  ❛ That’s fine, it’s fine. I have a job, ❜ she grinned, raising her brows for a moment. ❛ Thanks though. ❜

Nadia scrunched her nose a little. It didn’t matter if she wanted a Piña Colada smoothie, she could have that too, but she also needed real food. ❛ I need actual lunch but yeah… ❜ She let out a breathy laugh,a quiet snort mixed into it. Bringing her hand up she squeezed one eye closed and showed a small space between her fingers. ❛ Yeah, a little weird. ❜

,

Jack rocked back on his heels a moment. Either he just wasn’t funny or she simply wasn’t interested. And honestly? He couldn’t tell which one he liked least. “Their loss,” he said, tossing a glance at the guy behind the counter, who looked just as perplexed as he was sure she felt. 

He had to admit, though, he was kind of intrigued by this plant burger thing. He’d never heard of it, at least not in any serious sort of capacity. So he shrugged, lips pulling wide in a grin. “Follow-up, slightly-less-but-still-a-little-weird suggestion: I’ll buy a flower burger to split, if you want? That way the plant’s life wasn’t sacrificed in vain if it’s as weird as my brain thinks it is. And you can get your smoothie.”

Her nose scrunched at his laugh - not taking offense to it, but merely understanding how sad it seemed. She appreciated his attempt to relate, to give hers a silver lining. Harlow didn’t feel very much like a diamond, let alone a pule of them. The meaning felt to grand for her mousy behavior, or maybe her own insecurities. She’d changed so much over the past couple of years - following her dreams, asserting herself at work, working hard. At the end of the day, she was still Harlow Green - the sweet girl who cared far more about everyone else than she did herself. Diamonds felt like a stretch. A pile of rocks felt fitting. Harlow didn’t protest, only returned his boyish grin with a smile of her own.

His reasoning for being here seemed to strike a cord. Her mind floated away to her own lack of knowledge on who her biological father was. A family member I never knew about. Harlow found her curiosity peaking, perhaps similar to his own. “Do they know about you?” The question seemed intrusive, though it was rooted in her desire to know if her real father ever knew about her. Searching for answers in this strangers story was ill placed, but she’d never really known someone who could have a similar experience. Harlow glanced down, almost embarrassed the question escaped her lips before she could think it all the way through.

“Wetter. Less green more city.” Harlow shrugged. She missed parts of Crescent while she was gone - the ocean, the trees, the little houses that lined the streets on the way downtown. She missed the yellow house by the school with the mailbox shaped like a miniature version of the house.  Sometimes she wondered if she made Seattle her home, because it felt like she couldn’t come back here. “Oh.. my mom’s sick.” She spoke honestly.

.

The lightness in the air turned heavy with her question, the corners of his mouth pulling down. He sat back a little from where he’d been leaning in and cast his eyes around the place to spare himself a moment to collect himself again. “No,” he admitted, finding her eyes again only after he’d spoken. “They don’t. At least I don’t think so. So I don’t really know how to go about that, you know? It feels like I’m lying if I just get to know them as myself without telling them who I am, right? But it also feels like a punch in the face if I just introduce myself as an immediate family member they never knew about.” He raised his brows, surprised by how much truth he’d given her. God, he really was desperate for connection, wasn’t he?

He shook his head as if to clear it and forced a light laugh. “Sorry. Please don’t charge me at the end of this conversation. You’d put me in debt for life.” He grinned again, but it didn’t quite touch his eyes. 

And then it fell just as quickly when she answered his own question. If he’d thought it’d felt heavy before, now it pressed down on his chest with intention. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He’d just gone on like a whole asshole about a family member he might be gaining while she was sitting here with one she might be losing. The breath left him in a whoosh. He had questions and they formed on the end of his tongue. Never great at holding back before, he asked, “Will she be alright?”

“Yes, yes, you did say, but I grew up idolizing Nancy Drew so either you tell me now or I go digging through your dumpster and figure it out anyway,” she teased haughtily. She purposefully left out the part about making a career of mysteries - P.I.s could make people jumpy and she quite liked the atmosphere they’d built up already. She listened readily to his terms, smirking when he claimed to not know shame. This she could get behind - after all, her mother said the same thing about her on a nearly daily basis. She mock-glared when he stole a fry, but couldn’t deny there was something obnoxiously attractive about the smug look on his face. It felt like a challenge she was eager to rise to. 

“Sneaky, sneaky. Quick fingers, I see…” There were several avenues she could take. The obvious: his name, but that was just boring and felt like a gimme. The only slightly less obvious was the logical next step: What brought him to Crescent Harbor in the first place? She wanted to know, and that would certainly be one of her questions, but right off the bat? No, she had to be more creative than that. Which left only one other possible question, one that followed from that fast move and triumphant smile: “You ever been arrested?” There was a playful glint in her eye and a quirk of her brow that promised no judgement for his answer. It would be hypocritical anyways, considering all her brushes with the law.  

.

Jack ticked an playful brow, one half of his mouth pulling wide in a smirk. “’Dig through my dumpster’?” He narrowed his eyes as they danced with wicked amusement, pointing the fry at her before popping it into his mouth with a victorious snap of his wrist. “Is that a euphemism?” He only raised his brows higher when she said quick fingers, as if to further prove his point. 

Sitting back in his chair, he propped his feet up on the empty chair to his right, and crossed his arms over his chest. It was perhaps a too-put-upon look of nonchalance when, for the first time in his life, he actually had something to lie about. He studied her as she thought about her question, trying to read her, guess what she might be curious enough to ask first. Something simple, like his name? Something safe, like where he was from? He didn’t know a thing about her, but something told him it wouldn’t be something so predictable.

His eyes traveled along her features, wondering what he might ask her if the roles were reversed. He drew a lazy gaze from her mouth to her eyes. He’d ask something shocking, he decided, shake her up a little.

When her question finally came, he barked out a small laugh, lips pulling down fondly even as mischief danced in his eyes. “Once,” he admitted, licking his lips to hide a grin. “For the record, car sex in a deserted parking lot is not worth getting arrested for indecent exposure.” He tilted his head, considering. “It’s close, though.”

-

“It’s unique, I guess.” Harlow knew her mom picked it out for that reason. Her father would have never come up with something like it. Her mother was the one of the two with life, with creativity, with a love for something out of the ordinary. Her father existed by the books. “I looked it up once.. if it meant anything. I’m pretty sure it just means a pile of rocks.” She giggled softly. “Nothing too special really.” She shrugged, wondering if she shared too much useless information. A pretty name with a meaning like that felt fitting to her - all just a disguise for nothing really that interesting underneath.

“New Mexico?” Her brows knitted together. “What brought you here? How on earth did you find this little town?” Harlow wrapped her hand around the stem of the glass inching it closer to herself as her eyes settled on the red liquid within. She sometimes felt like Crescent Harbor didn’t even exist on the map - a little forgotten corner of the world. “Oh, I’m from here, though it doesn’t feel like it much anymore.” Her shoulders rose and sunk again. Her mother’s voice nagging in her head that shrugging was unlady like. “Lived in Seattle for 6 years, only just came back recently.”

.

Jack snorted and then clapped a hand over his mouth, waving the other in good-natured apology. “I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his lips together to stave off a smile. “Hey, at least your name means something. Mine literally means ‘son of Jack’. Joke’s on them, my dad’s name isn’t even Jack.” His grin was lopsided and boyish. “And, I mean, diamonds are rocks, right? From here on out, Harlow means a pile of diamonds.”

Her follow-up question probably shouldn’t have taken him by surprise. He should have figured that at some point, someone was going to ask him why he’d made his way to this sleepy little town. The smile slipped a little and he wondered how much truth he should share. It was possible she knew Ryder, right? It was a small town, that was sort of the motto. But god, he really did want to share with someone. He wasn’t used to being so alone. He wasn’t good at it. “I, uh. I recently learned that I have a family member I never knew about, and they live here. So I guess you could say curiosity is why I’m here.” There. That didn’t give away too much, right? Sure, maybe it sounded a little purposefully vague and maybe even suspicious, but whatever. It was fine. 

“Seattle, huh? Is it just as wet and green there as it is here? That’s probably been the most shocking for me. New Mexico is all... dry browns and reds. It’s like a different world sometimes.” He laughed, mostly to himself, and briefly wondered if that was part of the reason he felt so disconnected. “What brings you back here?”

She took a sip from her milkshake, savoring the chocolatey goodness as it spread across her tongue. She’d splurged to make it a malt, and it’d definitely been the right decision. “Too rich for the dumpster, but too poor for shitty beer. You better watch out, or I might have to think you’re giving out mixed messages,” she smirked. Was she flirting? There was very little difference between her regular banter and flirting - the only real change in the equation being the addition of an admittedly cute guy. She saw his eyes scan her features, and she cursed her fair complexion as she felt her cheeks heating. 

One of the downsides of living in a small town was that it was hard to escape a role once it’d been assigned to you. When most everyone already knew who you were, they expected you to stay fundamentally the same. For Phoebe, she had always been known as the youngest Winter and, at some point, being the baby had become one of her defining characteristics. She used that, largely, to her own advantage, but it was nice to meet someone new, who saw her only as the woman she was now. There was something exhilarating about the feeling. 

“I’ve got another proposition for you: less degrading than the dumpster, but hopefully just as embarrassing. 20 questions, and for every answer, I’ll give you a fry.” 

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“Maybe I’m just trying to be mysterious,” Jack countered with a boyish grin. With his eyes still on her, he watched as the pink-tinted hue kissed her cheeks. It was a good color on her, he decided, his grin widening. He thought better of pointing it out, though, content to let himself believe that it was because of him. 

Aside from his solo bike trip, he’d never been so starkly alone before. And it was strange that it was in moments like this-- in the small moments of contentment when banter came naturally and he found himself leaning in, intrigued-- that he seemed to remember the loneliness. But this, right now? It felt nice. So he leaned into it.

He waggled his brows a little when she told him she had a proposition for him before sputtering out a laugh at her suggestion. “I just said I was trying to be mysterious!” He said, throwing up his hands in mock exasperation, gaze still lingering before he let it slide to her plate of fries and back again. “But you drive a hard bargain. Deal. Two things, though. First, prepare to be disappointed because I don’t think I know the meaning of the word shame. And second--” He slid his hand towards her plate, trying to pluck a fry free before she had the chance to stop him, “--the first one’s free.”

**

She’d made the proclamation to no one in particular, said more for the sake of a dramatic entrance than anything else. That, and in response to the horrifically long line they were all currently stood in - the only thing that stood between her and the food she desperately needed. “Why is it men always assume violence? I could just as easily go crazy, strip down, and streak through the streets. You don’t know my life.” 

.

Jack’s lips pulled down at the corners, though amusement still danced in his eyes. He offered an open-palm shrug and a boyish grin. “Because we are uncultured, unevolved creatures. We’re doing the best we can. But point taken. You’ve inspired me to resolve all my future problems that way.” His grin widened. “Is this growth? It feels like growth.”

.

“It’s not too late for you to get the fuck out,” Leslie replied pointedly, shooting him an odd look. People who were born here, escaped, and made their way back she could sort of understand – especially being one of them – but transplants made her uneasy. If they chose to come here, something was wrong with them, and she didn’t know if she wanted to talk to one.

Unfortunately, she allowed herself to be roped into a conversation, and she just declined her own out. Her eyes lingered on her black phone screen for a second longer before she looked back to the kid. She picked up on the nervous edge to his words, which only made her suspicion grew. He was running from the law, she decided. Probably had a warrant out in Albuquerque, threw a dart at the map, and ended up here. It wasn’t any of her business, so she just nodded. “I guess this is better than fuckin’ Albuquerque,” she snorted. 

She was confused at his next words for a beat before she realized he was talking about the call she declined, which brought another odd look. In less than five minutes she had secretly apologized for fantasizing about doing him harm, figured out he was a possible criminal and decided it was his business, and he repaid her by being nosy. Kindness was fucking overrated. “If I wanted to answer it, I would have. I don’t subscribe to the whole being polite to people I don’t know thing,” she replied, her narrowed eyes taking a curious edge as she observed him. “Are you even old enough to order a beer?”

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“But it is too soon,” he countered, grinning. He got the impression she didn’t like him much, and honestly? That was fair. He was a lot-- too familiar, too loud, too unfocused. His knuckles knocked lightly against the countertop as jittery nerves threatened to sink their claws into him. He wasn’t playing this very cool. Maybe because he usually never had a reason to play anything before. He’d never had a reason to lie. 

So he latched onto something that didn’t require it. Or, at least, not in the same way. “Hey, Albuquerque is not that bad. It just has an incredibly high crime rate and an average summer temperature of like 316 degrees. That’s some real hot girl summer shit, you know?” His grin widened, though at this point, he figured it probably annoyed her more than it endeared her. He kind of liked something about that, to be honest.

His eyes fell to her silent phone for a moment and he held up his hands in a show of surrender. “Roger that,” he replied, mouth pulling into a half-smile. God, he really wanted to know how she well she knew Ryder, what their relationship to each other was. He was bursting at the seams to tell someone why he was here, to have someone to confide in. It hadn’t really struck him until this moment just how alone he was. Even on his solo bike ride around the entire freakin’ state of New Mexico, he’d had his parents to fall back on. Now he was dodging his mother’s incessant calls the way she was apparently dodging Ryder’s. He wanted to be included in a narrative not of his own making. He was scared to face this without anything to fall back on. He laughed, though it was a little stiff, as she spoke. “I’m twenty-seven. Don’t hate on my good genes. I may not be able to grow a beard, but at least I’ll look forty when I’m sixty.”

Ty could tell that this guy was very new here based on two things, one he hadn’t seen him ever before and two he looked about as lost as Dora the explorer in every single episode ever. His love for waffles was something he’d always brandish and brag about, something that reminded him of better times from his childhood when he’d wake up and always have a batch of waffles with fresh fruit in the morning. “You’ve never heard of it? Well then future lover you’ve certainly have not lived since that is the epitome of deliciousness. I can’t give it all, somethings I gotta keep for myself just so that I know I’ll be seeing you again. Young padawan.” he mused.

“Tiberius Emmett Rosales Corazon, resident princess beauty, and investigator. I’d say my pleasure, but then that would just give you the chance to say it will be later tonight, and don’t do that, I’m a lady.” he teased. “Still, this one thing I did mention last is the best thing in town, hopefully you’ll be here long enough to try it.”

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Jack’s eyebrows rose at the forwardness, amusement curling the corners of his mouth. “’Future lover’? I mean, I appreciate the boldness, but you’re not even going to buy me dinner first? I’m feeling a little cheap here. Where’s the small town hospitality?” He pressed a hand to his chest as though wounded, but his eyes danced, smile widening. 

It grew wider still, eyebrows rising. “Wow, that’s quite a resume. I’m impressed. I’ll be around for a little while longer, I think. I’m sure you’ll be able to find me, Magnum P.I.” 

Pun intended.

“Oh! Does that mean I’ll now be featured as one of the most helpful community members? I’m a proper local, too – born and raised, if you’d like to add that as a side note in your article. I’m sure it’d attract more tourists,” Flora joked along, thankful for the fresh breath of air that came with the stranger. He amused her and that was enough to keep her playing along.

With her elbows propped up on the table as she rested her chin on her folded hands, Flora’s expression shifted into something a little taken aback, a little more curious but she continued to follow his words. “So hypothetically you’d not make use of my hospitality at all but instead you’d probably end up spending more money so I’m not sure if I could accept,” Flora pointed out, a brow raising. “Though if your article would do well, you’d get paid and therefore you might just be fine, right?” She joked, lips turning into a smile. “Seriously though, you don’t have to do that. I’m happy to help if I can, you don’t have to buy me anything.” She laughed. “Coupons, remember? I can buy my own lunch.”

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Jack’s smile spread, eyes dancing as she played along. “I guess you’ll just have to wait to see it when it comes out. Don’t worry, I’ll use all the best adjectives: helpful, friendly, radiant. Things like that.” He almost winked, but he thought that might cheapen it. So he only smirked.

He watched in amusement as she poked very valid holes in his offer, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. He waited until she was done speaking, flashing his palms in a sign of retreat. “Hey, I did say hypothetically. Of course I wouldn’t take advantage of your hospitality. Just testing out the waters for when that article money does come in and I offer to take you to a real meal. No coupons. No hypotheticals.”

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Working at the diner offered a little bit of familiarity with the regulars, and some of the people in the town. Sure, there were people who passed through from time to time just stopping to get a quick bite, but new people always stood out. A regular pass with the coffee pot for refills, only to stop at the question posed. “Well, coffee refills are free, and it looks like you’re in need of a refill,” she said, flipping the clean, untouched mug over, and filling it up. “Depends on how broke you are,” she said with a sympathetic smile. She wasn’t exactly opposed to giving people free food, it wasn’t a common occurrence at least. “But, you should save your money, there’s probably other stuff you’ll need it for, right? How about you tell me what you want, it’ll be on the house. Apparently the burgers are really good? If you eat meat, that is. I usually get a veggie omelet or the veggie wrap. So, my recommendations are limited.”

.

“What are the scientific studies on how long one can survive on free coffee alone? Do we know those statistics? Is no one funding this? Seems like a waste.” He leaned back in his chair with a smirk and watched her fill up the mug. There was something about her that screamed delicate, like a fawn. Her smile was kind and while his instincts told him he could probably take advantage of that kindness, that wasn’t what he was about. Even in dire straits, he didn’t think he’d have it in him. Instead, he waved a hand. “I mean, I’m not going to say no if you insist, because I really am circling the drain here, but I might have been a tad bit misleading with the whole broke bitch comment. I have some money. But I also just moved here and I’m living in a way-overpriced shitty motel in Hemlock Docks at the moment and I don’t have a job yet so it’s gonna get dicey soon. But I can afford a burger.” He sat forward, propping up his chin. “Speaking of. I’m pretty sure you’re the second vegetarian-- vegan?-- I’ve run into in the span of, like, two days. Is that a Crescent Harbor thing or? Am I going to get jumped if I order meat? That’s not the way I want to go out, you know.”

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After two decades working in the same place, doing the same thing, just barely not making the same pay, Ryder should’ve been tired of it. He should’ve quit the moment he was old enough to recognize his other options – but he hadn’t. And after a certain amount of time passed, other options sounded like mythical storybook creations. A land where the days didn’t begin with charred coffee, the smell of rising tide, and a chorus of cranky old men. It was strange how accepting his job for what it was, no more and no less, had shifted into him almost liking it. He appreciated the monotony in it, the dependability. Not just as a source of income – it barely cleared that threshold – but as his constant. Everything else in his life had come and gone, but the docks stayed. The job stayed. It never changed, he knew there would never be a day when he showed up to clock in at dawn and find that it had up and gone. 

For that, he supposed, he was an easy person to track down. For nine hours a day, he was here. The other nine hours weren’t that hard to nail down, either, he supposed, with a glance over at the clock as he heard the voice. It was almost time to call it a day, and, inevitable, grab a drink or two at the Fear Knot. For all the little variables in the last year, the small changes, he had, for the most part, maintained his orbit. Until someone fucking threw it off.

“Depends on who’s asking,” Ryder said with an exhale, dropping the last crate and giving it a rather unceremonious kick off to the area he was meant to have unloaded it. Close enough. Part of him expected to be served for something – turn to see a cop with papers in hand. But he didn’t. He turned and saw a kick who looked like he was maybe 25, and even that Ryder wasn’t sure about. He squinted at him through the unforgiving sun glinting off the ocean, inclining his head slightly in a gesture to a more shaded area of the docks. He took off his gloves, tossing them to the side with all the care he’d given his shipment, and regarded the kid with a degree of skepticism that wasn’t entirely unfriendly. “If you’re collections or some shit, that dude quit like a month ago. If you’re not… well. Are you?”

.

He should have thought this through. For all the planning he thought he’d done, he felt wholly unprepared for this. Ryder was skeptical. Of course he was. And even despite that, despite his racing mind as he struggled for something to say, he couldn’t help but draw comparisons. They shared features, but even in the ones they didn’t, he could see his mom in Ryder’s face. Their mother’s face that he knew so well. Their mother, who, it seemed, he didn’t know at all. The realization squeezed like a vice grip on his heart. 

After maybe a beat too long, Jack laughed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “No, nothing like that. I’m--” The words died on his tongue, refused to form. I’m your brother. Just fucking say it. I. am. your. brother.

“I’m--” your brother, “looking for a job, actually.” Wow, nice one, idiot. “I just got into town a few days ago. You know, got a map, threw a dart, wound up here.” He shrugged, the lies tasting like bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down. “Someone told me to try here, said you might be hiring?”

**

Something about the man’s grin told her she was going to like this guy… “Hmmm.” She narrowed her eyes like she was assessing him more thoroughly, making a show of stroking her chin in thought. And then, as though her decision had been made: “Dumpster. Definitely your best best. The Country Club out in Sunstone, if you can talk your way past security. They have the best shit.” She’d never gone explicitly looking for food (she did have her parent’s house to fall back on), but it was by far the most immaculate trash she had ever gone through and she remember once coming upon a nearly entirely uneaten filet mignon. “That, or Fear Knot is doing $2 beers tonight. I’m on my way there next if you wanna tag along.” 

.

Jackson’s brows rose at her dumpster suggestion, lips parted in a grin as he waited for the punchline. ...Only to realize there wasn’t one. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that hadn’t been it. Jack hailed from a comfortably upper middle class family, dumpster diving had never exactly crossed his radar. Was this a new hard line? “If I could talk my way past security,” Jack repeated with an amused scoff. “Of course I can. Look at me, I’m charming.” His grin widened, eyes crinkling at the corners to nurture the façade. “But I don’t know that I’m Dumpster Desperate quite yet. I’ve got some money to tide me over for a few more days. But I’ll keep that one in mind.” He tapped his temple as if the action alone would cement the suggestion to memory.

His smile slipped a little at the mention of Fear Knot. He knew little about this little town-- he’d only been here a few days, after all-- and less about Ryder Irving. But what he did know was that Fear Knot was the likeliest place to run into his brother. And though it was the entire reason he was even here, he still wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

His eyes flicked back to her, studying the lines and planes and curves of her face. Maybe the risk was worth the reward. It wasn’t like Ryder knew who he was. “$2 beer, huh? I mean, that’s a bit rich for my blood, but I think I can swing it. Maybe I’ll even be a proper gentleman and buy the first round.”

-

Harlow listened, somewhat jealous of how he spoke with such ease. She always thought twice about what she was going to say, overthinking her every move, her every thought. He seemed to have no trouble speaking, joking with a stranger. Her eyes traced his hand as he pretended to scribble, drawing out a tiny laugh. “Oh he does bits.” She teased, causing a blush across her cheeks . That was perhaps as bold as she could be.

“And just so you know.. I’m terrible under pressure.” She pressed her lips together as she began to think. Harlow’s mind began to twirl - was he a sweet or a bitter kind of guy? There was so much that went into a decision like this. Harlow waited for the bartender to come back over. “I’ll have a glass of red wine. And he’ll have a Manhattan.” Truth be told she didn’t know alot about drinks either. She mostly stuck to red wine - it did the job.

.

Jack’s eyes widened, hand clutching his chest in feigned hurt. “Bits? I’ll have you know I take my job very seriously. And I’m afraid that’s going to lose you some points,” he tsked, pretending once more to scribble nonsense across an imaginary page before he finally put that bit to rest.

He watched, intrigued, as she tried to suss him out, and he sat a little taller beneath her gaze, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin. “I believe in you,” he said with a wink. And when she finally ordered for him, he nodded his head in approval. “Whiskey. Nice.” He flashed his ID to the bartender and settled back into his seat as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

.

She furrowed her brow at his answer – it was light hearted enough, but she was sure her tone was as friendly as physically possible for her. After a second of pause, however, she just shrugged it off. “Nah, the sunny disposition comes once you’ve been in this shithole long enough.”

Her phone screen lit up and the vibration made her eyes go to it, Ryder’s name and face illuminating the dim lighting of the bar. She hesitated, knowing she was late with their usual meet time, but her hand flicked out and she impulsively hit decline. He could wait a little longer. She raised her glass to her lips and looked over at the fetus next to her. “Where are you from?”

.

Jack’s lips quirked with amusement, some part of him wondering if this was a bit more than it was her actual personality. Either way, the sharper her words, the more entertained he became. “Oh, good. I’ve got time then. Haven’t even been here a week.” It’d been three days, in fact. Three days of tracking down Ryder and learning a couple of his haunts, of working himself up to just go fucking talk to him, and three days of chickening out every time. 

He hadn’t noticed it on purpose-- her phone lighting up and vibrating on the counter top-- his eyes flicking down to the screen on instinct alone. His blood froze in his veins as he traced the shape of the name and the accompanying picture. Startled nearly out of his seat, Jack dropped his gaze, swiveling in his chair to catch his breath. He knew the whole everyone-knows-everyone small town shtick was probably true enough, but this? Her question echoed through him and he snapped his head back up to meet her eyes. “Oh, uh. I’m from New Mexico. Albuquerque. It’s been a bit of a culture shock. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much green in my life.” The words were shakier than he would have liked and he worked his jaw a moment, gesturing towards the phone that was now quiet and lifeless beside her. He wanted to know, wanted to pry, but he didn’t really know how. “If you’re worried that I’m gonna eavesdrop, I’ll plug my ears.”

“You pose an interesting question there my good sir, usually I’d say you can never go wrong with waffles, my one truest love. But I know this place that makes super cheap puertorican food that’s delicious. If you’ve never tried mofongo you’ve never lived.” Ty mused, shooting the man next to him a wink before finally turning. “Other than that I’d say me, but I don’t know if you’re ready to bite into this just yet,”  teasing came as naturally to him as breathing, and it was nice that the guy was pretty cute in comparison to some of the other souls around town. 

.

It took less than half of the sentence to leave the other man’s mouth for Jack to decide he liked him. It was the kind of energy he could vibe with and he leaned into it, a lopsided smile blooming across his face as his stomach rumbled in response to the idea of waffles. It was the second bit that snagged in his mind, though, and he raised a brow. “I’ve never even heard of mofongo, but I’m into it. Give me all the trade secrets, I’m taking detailed notes.” He tapped his temple, knowing full well the words went in one ear and out the other. 

The teasing took him by surprise-- though he wasn’t sure why since it mirrored his own usual boldness-- and Jack snorted, eyes lingering on the other man for a moment before they slid back to the menu. “It’s funny, I didn’t actually see that listed. Must be one of those secret menu items.” Jack turned then, offering a hand and a mischievous smirk. “I’m Jack.”