Writing and Imagines: Requests Open

It had been, perhaps, the longest day in the history of forever.

The gray clouds overhead, residuals of a dissipating storm, seemed almost a bit too cliché given how you were feeling today. 

The day had started with three back to back to back meetings, was punctuated with a spilled cup of coffee, and ended with a fifteen block trek in the pouring rain without an umbrella. The precipitation had only begun to lift as you reached your destination. 

Though you had maintained a smile the entire day for the sake of your co-workers, the waterlogged socks on your feet were threatening to send you past the breaking point as you maneuvered the key in your hand into the keyhole. 

As you stepped through the doorway a sense of relief washed over you. It was later than you had intended for your arrival but at least the workweek was over and you could make an attempt at relaxing. The apartment smelled of a mix of food cooking in the kitchen and the candle lit in the living room - an almost intoxicating aroma given the day you had just had.

“Hello?” You called out.

A sudden crash followed by quiet swearing met your words. Only seconds later David appeared from the kitchen, an attempt at appearing relaxed painted over his features. It hardly mattered as the expression quickly transformed into shock as he took in your drenched frame. 

“You look like a drowned rat! What happened to you?” He asked, hurrying to your side to help you shed your coat.

“Wow, thanks. Can always count on you to brighten my day.” You muttered with an eye roll. 

“Sorry.” David relented. “Did you get caught in that storm?” 

You stood still for a moment, fixing him with a blank stare as he hung your coat on his coat rack, placing it just right so the coat had the best chance at drying before you went back to your apartment at the end of the night.

“No, I fell into my shower fully clothed.” You said sarcastically.

David shot you a disdainful look, his shoulders dropping slightly. 

“Yes, I got caught in the storm.” You sighed, no longer interested in the banter. “I had to help my boss with an errand and ended up ridiculously far away from my train stop.”

“Why didn’t you use an umbrella?” He asked, genuine confusion resting on his brow.

“I didn’t bring one today.” You admitted. “It wasn’t supposed to rain though!”

“It’s the summer. There’s always a chance of rain.” 

He shook his head as he made his way back to the kitchen to check on the dinner he was making, assuming you’d follow behind him to continue your conversation. Instead you stood still, collecting your thoughts as they raced through your head, your eyes trained on where your best friend had vanished around the corner.

Best friend.

This was yet another reason as to why your day - no, your week - had been a complete shitshow.

David had been the closest person to you for as long as you could remember. Everything between the two of you had always been second nature. Friends expected you to arrive at parties together and were never surprised when you left, your hand intertwined with his. They teased you, saying that you were both oblivious to the other’s real feelings but you always just laughed their words off.

“David is just a friend.” You’d insist. 

He was just a friend. 

And then a girl appeared. Her name was Anna? Or Amy? You hadn’t exactly spent too much time trying to memorize any details about her existence. Your awareness of her began one day when her name, adhered to an alert about a new text, popped up on David’s phone while he was making popcorn in the kitchen. He had left his phone beside you, expecting to only be gone a few minutes. You knew everyone in his life. He had introduced you to anyone that carried any sort of significance to him. 

But you certainly didn’t know her. 

“Who’s that?” You had asked when he finally returned.

David glanced at the name before locking his phone once more, placing it face down on the arm rest beside him and looking up to the television where your paused movie sat, frozen in place just like you.

“No one.” He had responded quickly. 

There had never been secrets between you and David before. 

But this certainly seemed to be a secret and its shadow was looming over the relationship the two of you had so carefully crafted.

As days passed (and David’s inability to keep anything hidden from you began to shine brightly) you learned this girl was a new friend. A friend he had gone to get drinks with the night after you first saw her name on his phone. A friend he had invited back to his place that very same night. 

A friend he had slept with.

A friend he had asked out on - as he put it - an official date.

You sat at his kitchen counter in one of the uncomfortable stools that had come with the apartment, your body feeling numb as he announced this. 

For as long as you had known David, relationships never got in the way. He had been in a long term relationship up until a year ago. Coincidentally, you broke up with your significant other only days after his girlfriend dumped him. 

But that’s all it was - a coincidence. 

Since then, neither of you had had the time or energy to get back on the market. When you weren’t working you were hanging out with one another and that had seemed to be enough. There hadn’t been anyone new to share him with. There hadn’t been anyone to take up his time. 

It had just been the two of you.

And so, the week had passed, and that was how you found yourself standing stock still in his living room, wet socks on your feet and drenched hair running down your back. When he texted you, asking if you’d like to have dinner at his place, you jumped at the opportunity to spend some time with him, to forget the nightmare of a life you had been muddling through. 

You heard David’s footsteps returning to where you stood, causing you to become painfully aware of how long you had been stationary. 

“You coming?” He asked.

“Shit, sorry. Yeah.”

He reached a hand out to you, as though helping you to bridge the gap between the entryway and the rest of his home. You stared at it for a second.

You had held his hand a million times before. He had led you back to his kitchen by way of palm to palm connection nearly every time you had come over for a hot meal. 

But, for whatever reason, this gesture felt different to you.

You looked up at his expectant, albeit confused, face.

You wracked your brain for reasons why you felt you couldn’t take his offer of physical connection. Was it because you had had a long day and everything seemed foreign and strange to you? Was it because you were certain he was seeing someone and this felt like a breach of boundaries?

He waved at you, breaking the spell of overthinking you had cast upon yourself. 

That was her hand to hold. Wasn’t it? 

Once more, he offered the opportunity to weave your fingers between his. 

Quickly, you took it, mentally shaking off the stillness you had found. The warmth of his skin against yours caused your heart to pump just a little faster. 

You tried to clear your head. He was just a friend and friends sometimes hold hands and there's nothing deeper to it. Even if there was, why would you want that? You didn’t want to date David.

Right?

You felt a newfound tension in your chest as you contemplated the question. 

You had never questioned your feelings for him. Everything had always been platonic and you were more than happy to keep it that way. Anything else seemed complicated and altogether unappealing.

But, if that was all true, and you really were happy with how things had always been, then why did you feel unmitigated dread when you considered his new girlfriend holding his hand just as you were now? Why did the idea of her cuddling him on the couch make you want to turn inside out?

You looked at David as you both entered the kitchen. You hardly noticed the extraordinary mess he had created in his pursuit for the perfect dinner. You were too busy feeling horror for a newfound concept that had only just become clear to you.

You were jealous. 

You tried to find ways to deny it or invalidate the thought but there was no way around it. That was the only possible explanation.

“How was your day?” Asked David, oblivious to the panic written over your face as he tended to a pot of boiling water.

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to act as normal as humanly possible.

“It was shit.” You grumbled, sitting on the stool you hated so dearly. “You need help with anything?”

“No. Just relax.” He shook his head, his eyes now trained on his phone, reviewing the recipe he was trying to follow. “Why was your day shit?”

“Just work and all that.” You offered vaguely.

David looked up at you, his eyes clear and sparkling, the smallest hint of a smile on his cheeks. “And all that? What’s all that?”

“Just, y’know, work. Life. So on. So forth.” You waved your hand in the air. “You sure you don’t need help?”

“Can you just talk to me about how your day went?” He asked, his smile deepening a fraction. 

You hesitated. You weren’t sure why he was so adamant. All the same, you launched into the story of your day, complete with every messy detail and direct quotes from meetings and water cooler chats. You thought you would make him regret asking for this narrative by being so detailed but he simply nodded along, smiling at your cynical jokes and frowning when he deemed a comment from a co-worker to be too harsh. 

He listened to every word, offering eye contact as often as he could to remind you he was paying attention. It made you trip over the syllables as you spoke them.

By the time you were done, David was draining the pasta into a colander and turning off the burner beneath his homemade sauce. He served himself and then you, offering your bowl of food to you with a flourish and a cheesy grin.

“I’m sorry.” He said as you both walked over to his kitchen table. “That does sound like a shit day.”

“Yeah.” You muttered.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from silverware scraping against ceramic. But then David’s head perked up.

“You only told me about work.” He said, as though he had just realized.

“And?” You asked.

“You said you were also having problems with life in general.” 

You shook your head fervently. “Don’t worry. It’s too much to get into.” 

“You can tell me.”

He was earnest and his face seemed genuinely interested in whatever you had to say.

You so desperately wanted to blurt out every single thought you had had in the last forty minutes but knew you couldn’t. There was no point in ruining a perfectly good evening with words that could absolutely nuke the most important relationship in your life. 

You bit your lip.

You would simply have to settle for screaming them into your pillow later, when you got home. 

“How’s that girl you’re seeing? Anna or Amy or whatever.” You asked, a poor attempt at changing the subject.

“Andrea?” He asked with a laugh, turning to you, almost surprised you hadn’t cared to remember her name.

“Yeah. Her.”

David’s smile persisted for a moment before dropping slowly off of his face as he turned back to his food.

“It’s fine.” He said softly.

It was your turn to pry into his life, an opportunity you were almost thankful for as the spotlight was quickly taken off of you. 

“That doesn’t sound fine.” You murmured.

David groaned softly, abandoning his efforts to eat in favor of rubbing his hands over his face. Concern grew in your chest as you realized he seemed truly bothered.

Sure, you had come to the conclusion you were jealous of this girl’s relationship with him. It didn’t mean you had ever wanted to see him hurt by her.

Carefully, you put your fork down and placed your hand on his arm, causing him to lift his gaze towards you. The smile that had gradually returned was a forced one. It was trying.

“I don’t think that it’s going to work out.” He finally responded.

“Ah, shit.” You rubbed your thumb in small, comforting circles over his wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He chuckled wryly.

“Yes I am!” You protested.

“You didn’t like her.”

“I did!”

“No. You didn’t.” He spoke with finality. At first you could’ve thought he was mad at you but then he began to laugh softly to himself. “You’re really not as subtle as you think you are.”

You hesitated. You came here this evening for comfort after a horrendous day. You hadn’t expected it to get more complicated as a result.

“I just - I didn’t - it was complicated.” You sighed. “It was hard to get used to a new person. That’s all. But I’m sure I would’ve sooner or later.” 

“No. I get it.” David nodded, understandingly.

“I didn’t want it to be something that broke you guys up.” You said softly, your voice almost getting lost between your bodies.

“No, no.” David reached out to place a loving hand over your arm. “Trust me. That wasn’t what broke us up.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head.

You looked back to your food that was likely beginning to reach room temperature. You didn’t think you could stomach it anyways. David’s eyes remained on you, as though he were trying to telepathically communicate something to you but couldn’t quite find the right wavelength.

You didn’t want to look back to him for fear your minds might actually connect.

“I’m sorry you had a shitty day.” He said.

You only shrugged. “At least I’m here now.”

“Yeah.” David paused before speaking once more. “Want to order ice cream? I know that always makes you feel better and we can-”

“Why did you break up with Andrea?” You interrupted.

David’s face went blank as he looked back at you. His eyes quickly dropped and searched the floor for anything resembling an answer.

“It just wasn’t working out.” He offered.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true!”

“That’s not the truth.” You retorted.

He pressed his eyes shut.

“There was someone else.” He finally admitted, his words a rush as they poured from his mouth.

The sentence was short. Only four words. It still took you off your feet. How could there be someone else? How could there be another person you hadn’t known about? 

Slowly, David opened his eyes and looked up to you, his face a grimace as though he were bracing for impact. 

All you could manage was a small nod. 

“Do I know them?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

You felt as though you were demanding answers now.

“Fuck.” He whispered, shaking his head from side to side as he pinched his brow.

“Who is it?” You pressed. Your tone softened slightly as you continued to speak. “You can tell me.”

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” He asked. “Like the living room?”

“Why do we need to talk in the living room?”

“It’s just easier.”

“Than the kitchen? I-”

“Can we please just talk about this in the living room?” He pleaded.

You opened your mouth to argue but couldn’t get past the insistent look in his eyes. You had to back down.

“Fine.” You nodded, pushing your seat out and away from the table.

David followed you to the couch. There was no hand holding this time as you crossed your arms over your chest. You feared if you were to allow him that liberty it would only make whatever he was about to say ten times more devastating. 

You sat with a huff and he sat beside you, his body far too close to yours for comfort. You didn’t move away, though. You let his knee press against yours, all the same.

“So, we’ve been really good friends for a while, right?” He started.

“Yes?” You asked, growing more confused and more agitated as he went on.

“And you and I spend a lot of time together, right?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “Where is this going?”

“Every relationship I’ve been in since meeting you -”

“All two of them?” You asked with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky smirk.

“All two of them.” He nodded. “In both of those relationships I was dumped-”

“Damn. 0 for 2, it seems.” 

David shoved you playfully, reveling in the brief levity your commentary added to what he was trying to say.

“Can you stop talking?” He asked, a smile betraying his words.

You waved your hand, signaling for him to continue with what he had been saying.

“In both of those relationships I was dumped because of you.”

This admission made your heart drop to your toes and leak out onto the carpet beneath them. Your waterlogged socks were now the least of your worries. Fear began to creep in as you could guess where these words were going.

“I thought it was just that first relationship. I thought that was an anomaly. She said she felt like I was dating two girls at once and couldn’t stand that you, more often than not, took precedence over her.” He explained. “But then Andrea said, quite literally, the exact same thing.”

The room was too quiet. Normally, you could hear city noises or some sort of ambiance due to noisy neighbors or construction but today was different. Today, all you could hear was the breath coming in and out of your lungs.

“What are you saying, David?” You asked, your voice small to avoid the warble you knew was hiding in your throat.

“I’m saying that you are the reason Andrea and I broke up.” 

Anger began flooding your chest. It was the least you could do to fight back the crushing tidal wave of sadness that loomed desperately in the background.

“So what? What does that mean?” You snapped. “Are you saying you don’t want to be friends?”

“No! That’s not-”

“That’s not what? You literally just blamed me for your relationships falling apart!”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You stood quickly, no longer interested in participating in this heart to heart - or whatever David wanted to call it - but a hand just as quickly pulled you back to the couch.

You looked at him, your eyes narrowed as you pulled back from his grasp. To your surprise, his expression was one of fondness. It was one of gentleness.

It was one of love.

“Can you sit down?” He asked, his voice calm and balanced.

“What could you possibly have left to say?” You argued.

“When I told you that Andrea and I broke up, I told you it was because there was someone else, right?”

“For fuck - just tell me who it is so I can go home! This isn’t some kind of game, Finlay!”

Before the words could all but tumble free of your mouth David spoke once more.

“I already told you who it was.” He said, as composed as anyone has ever been.

“No, you haven’t.” 

“You are the reason Andrea and I broke up.”

Once more a hush fell over the apartment. Your mind, for the first time all day, was completely empty, save for his words that rattled around your skull like a ping pong ball.

With slight trepidation that you might lash out again, David moved a hair closer.

“Me?” You asked.

“You.”

“I’m the other person?”

His brow furrowed as he tried to find the best way to formulate his words.

“I asked you over tonight so we could talk about this.” He said slowly. “I didn’t know how to though. And I probably did it wrong but I just really, really care about you. And when I’m with another person it just feels like I’m biding my time until I get to see you. At first, when I was still in that last relationship, I thought that was just because you were my best friend. And then when that all ended I didn’t have to think about it anymore because we were just always together. But then I started seeing Andrea and I felt the exact same way. I was just waiting until I got to see you. Which is really tough when you’re seeing someone else 24/7.”

A small laugh found its way from your chest. David smiled to himself, realizing he had gotten through the hardest part of the conversation.

“I don’t know how you feel and maybe you don’t feel the same but when Andrea broke up with me I hardly fought back because I knew I had to at least shoot my shot here. I couldn’t waste more time. Especially not if there was a chance for things to work out.” He continued. “So, yeah. We broke up because of you.”

You were quiet for a beat, taking your time to ingest everything that had been laid out in front of you. After a few minutes of staring at your feet you turned back to him.

“I guess I really have an impact, huh?” You finally offered, causing David to laugh softly.

“Yeah, you’re a real pain in my ass if I’m being completely honest.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.” You said softly. “I guess it’s my turn to talk about feelings, huh?”

“That’d be nice, considering I just bared my literal, entire heart to you.” David smirked.

“Yeah. I’ll be honest, I am glad you guys broke up.”

“We’ve established that.” 

“But it’s not because I didn’t like her. I didn’t know her. I didn’t have enough information about her to decide whether I did or didn’t like her.” With a deep breath, you exhaled your next words. “I’m happy because I was jealous of her.”

David paused to look at you, his eyes darting across your face for any signs of a lie or a joke but coming up empty handed.

“Jealous?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “I was jealous that she got to spend time with you that I didn’t get to spend. I was jealous that she got to, like, hold your hand and whatever else.”

A coy grin wrapped up in David’s cheeks as he began to relax. 

“What’s ‘whatever else’?”

“David.” You warned.

“No, tell me. I’m dying to know.”

You clenched your jaw defiantly.

“I was jealous she got to cuddle with you.” You grumbled. 

“You and I cuddle all the time. What’s ‘whatever else’ mean?”

“Do I really have to say it?” 

“Yes.” He was now grinning ear to ear in the most obnoxious display of shamelessness you had ever played witness to.

You balled your fists and shut your eyes, knowing there was no way out other than through.

“I was jealous she got to kiss you!” You blurted, leaving David in hysterics. This reaction earned him several hard swats on his arm.

“Ow!” He whined, continuing to laugh so hard his face turned red.

“Fuck this.” You muttered, threatening to leave once more but this time wholly knowing you were bluffing. “Goodbye! I’m leaving!”

You got as far as the coat rack before David sprang up, buying into your words, his face trying to regain composure.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He repeated as he placed a hand on either side of your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You sure about that?” You asked, your eyebrow arching into your forehead.

“Well… no.” He said sheepishly. “But can I make it up to you?”

“How are you going to-”

Before you could finish your sentence, David’s hand made its way to your chin, lifting it just a few degrees so you were facing him. Slowly, as though he were waiting for you to stop him, he leaned in. First, his nose brushed yours. Then, you could feel the warmth of his breath meeting your skin. 

Finally, he kissed you. 

His hand that had maneuvered your chin moved to gently hold the side of your face and the other moved to your lower back, pulling you in closer as though to not let you drift away. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like a couple eternities.

When he pulled back you smiled, his face still only a few inches from yours.

“Now, what were you saying about being jealous that she got to kiss me?” He asked.

“Not sure if I remember.” You shrugged.

Almost reluctantly, David put more space between your bodies, if only to make better eye contact with you. 

“There was never a reason to be jealous of anyone else. You always, always came first.”

His words were honest. There was no joking, no playfulness, no sarcasm. You curled your head down and pulled him back to you, embracing him. He kissed the crown of your head as though it were what he had always done.

“I think, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to maybe try being more than friends.” You suggested.

“I think that’s probably a good idea.” David agreed. “For us and the people around us.”

“Might save a few more people some time they’d normally spend breaking up with you.” You joked.

“I’m going to order ice cream and I am not going to get you anything.” He threatened, despite his arms never leaving your body.

You stood there a while longer. 

Your day had been awful, there was no doubting that. But you were thankful for how it ended. 

And as you reflected on the evening, laying on the couch, still in David’s arms, you realized it had to end this way. There was no other way for this to end.

It was intuition. It was instinct.

It was a normal Tuesday in the shop. The space was quiet, a few customers milling around, browsing the selection of hiking boots and carabiners. Locals hustled down the sidewalk outside, rushing through their lunch breaks, oblivious to the way the sun broke through the clouds, the way the light cast itself over the sides of the mountain in the distance.

Mel leaned over the checkout counter staring longingly towards those mountains, wishing the day would end and afford her the time to go for just one hike. Just one stroll through the trees, past the lake and into the hills.

By all accounts, it was a normal Tuesday.

And then he walked in.

He was unassuming, dressed just the same as any other customer. But there was something different about him, something intriguing. His hair was a shade of glittering blonde, half pulled back into a tiny bun. His shoulders were broad, his entire body sculpted by muscles. His glowing aura sucked Mel in, but she quickly shook herself free from its hold. She didn't have time to fall in love with every handsome nature bro that walked through the front doors.

He walked slowly towards her, a sense of confidence in his gait. Despite her better intuition, her heart began to beat wildly against her chest.

“Where might I find hiking boots?” He asked, leaning one arm against the countertop.

Without so much as a word, she pointed towards the racks of shoes against the far wall. The man stared at her for just a second too long and she felt sparks of electricity travelling down her spine. He looked to the shoes and then back at her before letting a gentle smile unwind across his face.

As he walked away and the distance between them grew she finally felt capable of taking a deep breath. She made a dedicated effort to keep her eyes focused on the computer in front of her as she checked on upcoming shipments and e-mail inquiries.

If she couldn’t see the man she couldn’t fall madly in love with him.

But the man had other ideas.

“Can I ask you a question?” He called over to her.

With a small sigh, Mel turned towards him. He was holding a shoe box in his hands but his face looked utterly confused.

“I hate to be that guy but I was wondering if you had the Salomon Xs in a size 11?”

His voice was soft and fully aware that his question was the bane of every retail worker’s existence. The gentleness in his tone was, in a word, disarming. Mel found herself forgetting the mental wall she had built so hastily upon first glance and warming up to him as she walked towards where he stood.

With her thumb pressed to her lower lip she studied the display of identical boots, quickly scanning over the boxes but not finding what he was looking for. She then browsed the surrounding displays, still coming up empty handed.

“It doesn’t look like it. What we have is what’s out here so we must’ve sold out.” She offered an apologetic frown.

“I get it. This is the third store I’ve tried today with no luck.”

They stood together silently for a moment before Mel pointed to a different stack of boxes. “You could try the new La Sportiva’s. They’re similarly priced and have a lot of the same features as the Salomons.”

The man walked towards the boots, picking one up in his hand and examining it from its different angles. Then he sat on a nearby bench, removed his current shoe, and tried the new one on. He stood and walked a few paces all while Mel watched on, blissfully unaware of any other customer in the store.

“How do I look?” The man asked, a goofy grin taking him over. “Think I could outrun a bear in these?”

Mel unleashed a sharp laugh before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. The man looked at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“I don’t know if you’d outrun a bear but I’m sure you’d be a very handsome dinner.”

Blush crawled over the man’s cheeks but Mel couldn’t see as she looked down at her feet, embarrassed by the words that had spilled free of her. A comfortable tension built itself up around them - the kind that appears when there’s an inkling within the back of the mind’s of two strangers that something special has just begun.

“Eh, I don’t know. I think I’ll keep looking for the Salomon’s.” The man finally spoke as he sat down to unlace the shoes.

Mel wandered back to her computer, reluctant to separate from his intoxicating presence.

“Y’know,” She called over to him as she scrolled through her invoices. “I could order them for you. If you don’t mind waiting a week or so, that is.”

The man looked up to her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

He stood from the bench and approached her. The tension returned and an unfailing smile permanently etched itself over his face. He studied her face for a moment before giving a playful shrug.

“That’d be awesome actually.”

Mel nodded, tearing a piece of receipt tape from its machine. “If you don’t mind, write your number here and I can call you when they come in. I’ll order them now and I imagine they’ll arrive this time next week, give or take.”

The man did as told, writing out a series of numbers, in what could only be described as chicken scratch, and then writing the name Tyler at the top.

“Tyler?” Mel read it out slowly, trying to make sense of the impossibly bad penmanship.

Tyler nodded.

Mel then ripped off another piece of receipt tape and scribbled the shop’s number down under her name before sliding it towards him.

“Mel?” He read just as slowly as she had, mocking her inability to read his scribbles.

Mel laughed quietly. “Yes. You can use that number to check in on the order if I forget to call you or something.”

Tyler paused for a moment, staring at the paper. “And what if I wanted to call to ask you to get a cup of coffee with me? Is there a number for that or am I allowed to use this one?”

The pounding of Mel’s heart returned at a rate that threatened to crack a rib. Once more, sentence structure was at war with the signal overload in her brain. She tried to form something coherent but her bashful smile was working against her.

“Uh, I- I think it’d be the same number.” She finally murmured.

“Great.” He tucked his head down in an attempt to hide his own shy elation. Carefully, he folded the piece of paper and slid it into the pocket of his shorts. “It was nice meeting you, Mel.”

As he walked towards the front door, Mel found her voice. “It was nice to meet you too, Tyler.” He threw a smile over his shoulder before exiting, back into the open outdoors.

Mel watched as he walked up the sidewalk, stopping at the windows that resided beside the cash register, stopping so he was nearly right next to her once more. His back faced her though and she assumed he hadn’t realized how he had positioned himself. He pulled the paper free of his pocket and stared at it for a moment before pulling his phone out.

Before she knew it, the shop phone was ringing.

She picked it up, giving the standard greeting, unaware as to the person on the other line.

“Hey, uh, this really cute girl that works at this shop gave me this number to call in case I needed to get in touch.” The voice coming through the receiver spoke with a tiny shake, nervous excitement betraying its stability.

Mel turned towards the windows to see Tyler now turned around, looking at her, beaming like a golden retriever.

“Did she now?” She teased.

“Yeah and she said if I wanted to ask her out for a cup of coffee I could use this number as well.”

“Mhm.”

“I kind of want to ask her out for a cup of coffee.” He spoke with finality, sighing quietly as though he were finally free of a mounting burden.

Mel gained her composure, never breaking eye contact with Tyler through the windows. “She’d be happy to accept.”

“Cool, cool. Let her know that I’m really excited and I’ll come in tomorrow to figure out the logistics of this date.”

“I absolutely will.”

There was a significant pause as the two gazed out to one another, enraptured by the others' existence.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mel.”

Tyler’s voice was a warm comfort, a new reality that she was more than happy to sink into. She no longer wanted to quell the way she felt about him. Today was meant to be different.

When Jay walked in you felt your pulse quicken, the shirt over your chest becoming just a little bit too warm. Two friends flanked his side, one saying something that caused him to let out a roaring laugh, his dark brown hair cascading over his shoulders. The smile that remained on his face afterwards was enough to drive your mind wild.

He surveyed the bar, clearly in search of an open table. His eyes briefly fell over you during his pursuit and, for just a moment, you could have sworn you saw him checking you out. But maybe you were imagining things.

He waved his friends towards the bartender, signaling that he’d save the open seats he’d found by the window. As he sat he shed his coat, balling it up beside himself. You found yourself tearing up a paper straw wrapper as you tried to mitigate your desire to stare at him all night.

A drinking buddy shook your arm, breaking you from your trance.

“Someone catch your eye?” One friend teased.

“It’s nothing.” You replied, a sheepish smile crossing your face.

“He’s looking at you, y’know.” Another friend nudged.

When you turned your head he was indeed looking in your direction, his eyes quickly averting back down to the phone in front of him. Maybe he was looking at one of the other girls at the table. Maybe he wasn’t even looking at your table at all.

But he was. You knew he was. And the butterflies in your stomach were not far behind.

You kept to yourself for a while longer, alternating between sips of gin and pervasive thoughts about whether his gaze was still at your back. Carefully, you turned your head over your shoulder and sure enough his eyes met yours, a small smile lifting his cheeks before directing his attention back to the friends that had returned to his side.

“Why don’t you just go talk to him?”

You waved your friend off.

“I can’t just go up to a random guy at a bar.” You mumbled into the side of your glass.

“He’s clearly interested.”

“I’m staying here.”

Anyways, you weren't dressed to meet someone. Not someone as handsome as him.

“He’s getting up.” A friend pointed out.

You kept your head down, focused on the woodgrain of the table beneath your highball glass. It wasn’t until you felt the brush of an arm against your back that you looked up.

It was him.

“Sorry.” He spoke softly, raising a hand in apology before continuing to the bar.

You felt your skin prickle where he had touched as though it were a chemical reaction.

He leaned over the wood counter, briefly chatting with the bartender before pointing out what he wanted to drink. Just as you found your line of sight magnetically drawn to him, he seemingly found his magnetically drawn to you.

“Just go talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He looked away from you, biting his lip and, once again, burying his head in his phone.

What was the worst that could happen?

Tired of the persuasion, you finished your drink and stood, an air of determination settling in your bones..

The first step towards him was the hardest one. The next twenty felt as though you were on autopilot, looking past him as he watched you make your way to the stool beside him. The guts you had to look directly at him had apparently been left at your table, sitting between your two best friends.

The bartender handed him a glass of brown liquor, a large cube of ice sticking out of it, before turning to you.

“Another?” He asked.

You nodded wordlessly.

You stared straight ahead at the rows of bottles that lined the back of the bar. His presence felt like a furnace, burning up your side and you couldn’t dare turn your head now.

And you didn’t need to.

Behind the rows of bottles sat a mirror with the bar's name emblazoned across it. He was looking at you and, as it just so happened, you had been looking at him.

He let out a small laugh, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Sorry for bumping into you earlier.” He murmured, a grin eating at his cheeks. “I’m Jay, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Jay.” You spoke with a small sigh, a nervous burden finally feeling lifted from your shoulders. “And its no problem. Not exactly a lot of room to walk.”

The bartender returned with your drink, condensation slipping down the sides of the glass. Jay traced a droplet guiding it back to the top.

“I saw you looking at me earlier.” He spoke, only looking up past his brows as the words fell from his mouth.

“I should say the same for you.”

“Sorry. I probably could’ve been a little more discreet.”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling braver than you had before.

“I was just wondering when you’d get the nerve to talk to me. I didn’t realize I had to come all the way up here to get a chance to meet you.”

With this, Jay let out the same, roaring laugh he had upon first entry. Your heart swelled knowing you had been the cause of it.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to get the nerve to talk to you.”

“Well I haven’t left yet, have I?” You answered with a smirk.

Jay’s hand traveled from your glass to your hand, tracing a finger over the base of your thumb as if lost in thought. Your mind went blank, wrapped up in his touch. You wanted to stand there forever but after a moment he pulled away, rapping his knuckles against the counter.

“You’re here with friends?” He asked.

You nodded. “I was going to head out after this drink though. I’ve had a long day.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and something inside of you lit up, craving the opportunity to know the sensation of wrapping your hands up within his dark mane. He leaned back, his foot propped up on the rungs of a stool.

“You come here often?”

Jay laughed quietly at your question. “Uh, no. Actually, its my first time. I’m new to the area-”

“And your friends over there decided to bring you to the stuffiest pub in town to show you a good time?”

Another laugh, this time louder, his cheeks causing the skin around his eyes to wrinkle slightly.

“It’s not bad here!” He protested.

“It’s just not exactly the pinnacle of the local nightlife.”

“And you would know this because you’re a local, yeah?”

You nodded, beaming with pride. “Yes, I am.”

Jay’s grin widened as he turned back to face you once more. His eyes studied you, freezing your body with their cool blue. You hadn’t known him longer than an hour but, for whatever reason you felt safe in his gaze. You felt comfortable and calm. You felt like you wanted to be the only thing he ever laid eyes on ever again.

“Alright, Ms. Local. If you know so much why don’t you show me where the real party is. I’m dying to find out.”

You thought carefully, pursing your lips.

“And you think we should just abandon our friends?” You asked, analyzing the way his eyes searched your face.

He looked at you as though you were the only thing in the room with him. You commanded his attention and he did nothing to hide that fact.

“I do.” He nodded. “If you’re okay with that.”

Your better senses told you not to go with him. But there, in the back of your mind, screamed a voice, louder than all the others, telling you you had one chance and to not mess it up.

“I think I could be.”

He bit his lip before taking one last sip of his drink and holding out his hand to you. You took it. Together you walked back to your respective tables, grabbing your coats and saying your goodbyes.

You stepped out into the world, suddenly a pair, no longer individuals. It was cold but you felt cozy underneath his arm. He pressed a small kiss to the top of your head and it felt so normal that you demanded your brain to figure out whether you had known this man before.

“This the place?” He asked, looking up at the sign over the door.

“Mhm.”

He gave you a smile that you felt burn itself into your memory, holding the door open for you.

And as you sat in that coffee shop, curled up on tufted couches, your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your body, his hand gently holding your waist, you felt a sense of peace. He told you about his job and home, you told him about the town and your favorite thing to cook on the weekend. He laughed at your jokes, and listened to your words. He liked the same movies you liked and he had grown up on the same television you had.

As the barista began wiping up the tables and you found yourselves suddenly alone in this public place, he asked for your number and offered to call you a cab. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you texted him the first text of many.

And once more you wracked your memory, expecting to find him somewhere hidden in its depths, expecting to find some proof of having met him previously.

But you hadn’t.

And you had.

“If we’re going to do this we’re gonna do it right.” You muttered as you lifted Jay’s hair up, wrapping a towel around his neck.

The smell of peroxide was pungent in the air. It filled the entire bathroom despite only occupying a small plastic mixing bowl. Jay had wrinkled his nose at the scent initially and you wondered if he’d really let you get close to his hair with it. He proved to be obliging, changing into a ratty old shirt from his highschool back home and allowing you to brush his tangled black locks into a more inviting arrangement.

“Do you have to be so rough?” He had whined while he sat on the bed, your comb snagging every knot on its way through his scalp.

You kissed the side of his neck gently with a smile. “I thought that’s how you like it.” You grinned through your words as he tried to swat at you.

You took small segments in your hand, placing a piece of hairdresser’s foil under the strands and brushing bleach over the ends. You felt a small twinge of guilt. The bleach would have to sit in his hair for such a long time to really make any difference, effectively frying the virgin hair. You always liked his dark hair. It was the first thing you had noticed about him when you met so many years ago. You loved the way it brushed against your arms when you woke in the morning and the way it felt as you ran your fingers through it.

Your arms grew tired after a while signalling a good time to take a break. Standing on your tiptoes, you tried to peek over Jay’s shoulder to see his face in the mirror. He offered a small smile, reaching back to pull his arm around your waist.

“You know what you’re doing - right?” He whispered into the crown of your head.

“Yeah.” You lied. “You’re gonna love it.”

The box had directions and you had painted before. His anxieties were probably misplaced. Probably.

The sun had started going golden in the sky as you finished up the first half of your endeavor. The bedroom was doused in late afternoon glow, dying the framed photos of you and Jay and friends a warm shade of orange. The chipped snowglobe he had gotten you in Auckland cast a lit up circle on the ceiling.

Jay paced around the room as you curled up in the armchair beside the bed.

“Sit. down” You scolded. “Just relax. You still have another half hour before you can wash it out.”

“How can I relax when you’ve put this stuff in my hair?”

You rolled your eyes. It was your idea you thought to protest. For the next thirty minutes, he alternated between asking if it was time to wash the bleach out and complaining about the burning sensation he was feeling. The constant barrage of displeasure only stopped when you leaned over to him and pressed a kiss to his lips, letting one hand run up his thigh, the other up his arm, causing goosebumps to form on his skin. Suddenly, he was silent, smiling through a furious blush.

After Jay washed the bleach from his hair and let his mane dry you set to work coloring it. The familiar ache returned to your arms leaving you desperate for some sort of relief.

“Can’t you just crouch?” You whined. “My arms are exhausted.”

“This is as far down as I can go.” He gestured to his slightly bent legs but the height disparity remained.

An idea chimed in your head. Carefully you put one foot on the bathroom counter, hoisting yourself up to a standing position. Jay quickly tensed up as you stood over him, a hand finding your leg.

“What in god's name are you doing?” He asked frantically.

“If you won’t bend I have to do something. My arms feel like they could break off.”

Jay couldn’t find it within himself to relax, keeping hold of you as you worked. The pressure on your leg was almost destabilizing but you wouldn’t back down. He had made this project difficult enough and the only way it would get done was if you stuck to your guns. Jay seemed to understand, relaxing ever so slowly with the consistent progress you made.

At least until your foot slipped into the sink, throwing your balance off.

“That’s it. You’re not standing up there.” He grumbled with finality.

You knew you wouldn’t win the fight so you took his hand as he helped you down. You looked up at him, his half dyed head of hair, and let out a heavy sigh. He brought a hand to your cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb. A smile played over his face as if he were amused by your frustrations. He looked from your eyes to your lips and back before leaning in and kissing you. It was a lingering kiss, the type that lets you savor the touch for a moment. Finally, he pulled away and you rolled your eyes, not letting him win with one tender gesture.

“Well, come on. We’ve gotta finish this.” You gestured towards the remaining patches of bleached hair.

“Here.” Jay started, walking towards the toilet and shutting the lid. He slowly brought himself to sit on the ground in front of it, waving you over to have a seat behind him. “I might break my ass sitting on the tile but at least you won’t have to reach up to me.”

You paused, assessing the plan before nodding. You sat, your legs resting against his biceps. He patiently waited for you to resume painting on the teal dye but something stirred inside of you. You leaned forward, placing two fingers under his chin, tilting his head back until he was facing you.

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice strained from the stretch in his neck.

You let the dye-soaked hair ruin your shirt as you pressed a kiss to his upside down lips. His hand met your forearm, gripping it lightly, sending chills through your body.

“Thank you.” You murmured.

It was a Sunday.

The living room saw the worst of it. That was where you pointed at the door and told Jay to get out of your house. That was where you grabbed any item of his that you could immediately identify - the books on the shelves, the wrestling trophy, the picture of the two of you that he had brought from his old apartment - and thrust them into his hands. You tossed the throw blanket he had brought from New Zealand over his shoulder and gave him his marching orders.

He didn’t have time to argue, and even if he did you wouldn’t have listened to reason.

You tore through the kitchen afterwards, sobbing dramatically as though you weren’t the one to suggest breaking up, as though you weren’t the one who had set fire to everything. Plates from dinner the night before still sat in the dishwasher, his water bottle nestled among the mugs he always used for tea. The fridge still held the meals he had prepped for the coming week, the french toast he had cooked for you two mornings ago. You sank down in a corner, your back digging into the lower cabinets.

He was everywhere around you and nowhere all at once.

He came by on a day you were out and packed up his things. When you got home his key was left on the console table, a golden epitaph for your time spent together. You marched upstairs, intent on finding that he had taken something that wasn’t his. At least then you’d have a reason to call him. This was stupid you’d say. Come back to me. The house is just four walls and a roof when you’re gone. He hadn’t taken anything of yours, though. He left behind the trinkets he had gotten for you while on the road and the cardigan you had stolen from him a week into your relationship. He left behind the pillows he had bought the day he moved in and the stuffed dog he had won for you in a claw machine game. He left behind a box of hair dye, toothpaste stains in his sink, and the scent of his absence embedded on his side of the bed.

You were in a ghost town of your own creation and it brought tears to your eyes.

The days got easier slowly but surely.

You tried to think about him less with minimal success. The leftovers in the fridge went bad so you threw them out. You cleaned the bathroom until the sinks reflected your sullen face. You washed the sheets and folded the cardigan, pressing it into the back of your closet, hoping only to find it when you were in a better place again. You occasionally saw him at the gym and the restaurant you had both grown to love but you stayed out of sight, a small part of you hoping maybe he’d see you and maybe he’d come back.

A year passed and you hoped your brain would heal from the wounds you had created on that one fateful night but you still sat up in bed, in the darkness of the early morning hours, playing back your favorite mixtape of your regrets and your mistakes. You missed his face beside yours on lazy Sunday mornings, waking up to him smiling at you. You missed his arms errantly wrapping around your waist at parties as his way of saying he was ready to go home. You missed the kisses he’d sneak, pressed against your neck as you cooked or did your make up. You missed how safe you felt when you were consumed by his touch or when his words melted into your skin or when he kept his eyes on you as you wandered too far away in a store.

You remembered screaming at him on the day it all came crashing down, that he never made time for you or cared for you or wanted to be around you. And, yeah, maybe it was because you had had a hard day or month or year and maybe you made everything up in your head but, even if you didn’t mean it, it didn’t matter anymore because he was gone.

It was a Friday.

You forced yourself into a dress and made your best attempt to look like a happy, functioning adult. You called an Uber in spite of every molecule inside your body telling you to just go back to bed. You met your friends at the bar and they dragged you to the dance floor although your high heels felt like cement boots. You wanted to go home. But home wasn’t even home anymore so you may as well make the most of your time.

One friend was yelling over the music about how happy she was that it was finally the weekend. She complained about work being awful until another friend tried to one-up her with a story about a particularly hellish shift she had just come off of. You smiled and nodded but you didn’t really care. Your eyes focused on the sea of people surrounding you before zeroing in on one head. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A girl was dancing with him. You couldn’t see his face but he didn’t seem all too interested. He looked like someone you knew. He looked like Jay.

The realization hit you like a sucker punch right to the stomach. You excused yourself from your friends, suddenly feeling too claustrophobic to continue enjoying yourself. You elbowed your way through the crowd until you found an oasis in the shape of a bar. The drink you ordered did little to quell your racing heart and tasted like the regret you felt coursing through your veins. The only solace you could find was simply that you were at least safe from the ghost you could’ve sworn you’d seen.

The thought to get a ride home crossed your mind but perhaps the only thing worse than seeing the ghost was returning to the graveyard.

So you sat. And you waited. And you sipped. You lost yourself in your phone, letting the thumping bass act as a hypnotist to your emotions. It worked for a while until a hand found its way to your shoulder and you whipped around with the intention to maim whatever drunken man was trying to make a pass at you.

But there he stood. Jay. His dark brown hair pulled back, a skate shop t-shirt hanging a size too big over his frame, the sunglasses you had always hated folded against the collar. He smiled at you, the same rosy cheeked smile that stole your heart the first time you met him. You smiled back.

“This seat taken?” He asked, gesturing to the stool beside you.

“Even if it were I’d tell you to sit in it,” you responded.

He ordered a drink for himself before turning to you. You had expected your reunion to be full of pitying stares and “too little, too late”’s but he still looked at you the same way he always had: with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and an expression of love over his face.

You spoke at length. He told you about work and you told him about anything but work. You told him about the new sofa you bought and he told you about his new apartment and how cold it gets sometimes and how he wished he had his cardigan back.

“You should buy another one,” you shrugged.

“That’s not the point, is it?”

His words stung but he wasn’t wrong.

You stayed at the bar that night until last call, hours after your friends had said their goodbyes and retired to their beds and their significant others. You stayed because Jay stayed and suddenly that bar was home. When Jay left, you left. And when you unlocked the front door, Jay walked through it beside you.

It was a new week.

The living room eventually was pieced back together. It took months to move his stuff back in. It started by accident. Jay decided to sleep on the couch the first few times he stayed over and woke up freezing every night and so the throw blanket from New Zealand returned. He didn’t like watching television on his days off and so the books returned to their rightful spots on the shelves. The wrestling trophy and the framed picture were not far behind.

The kitchen was once again restocked with meal prep containers that cluttered the fridge, leftovers from brunches on lazy weekends. Jay’s water bottle sat in the unemptied dishwasher, just like always, nestled between the mugs he’d use for tea every day. His kisses found their way back to your neck as you cut up vegetables for stir fry or sifted through the mail at the counter. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed the sound of him lurking over your shoulder.

Every night in bed he held you tight and every morning you’d wake up to his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. You wanted to slow the time down, savor every moment for as long as you could. You weren’t sure if he felt the same way as he slowly refilled his closet with the same shirts and pants, hung in the same order that they had been in prior to his departure. Occasionally, you would worry that he didn’t love you the same way anymore and you had to shake the fears from your head so as to avoid another self-sabotaging outburst.

One night, you woke up, a nightmare rattling through your brain. It was something about Jay not being around, vanishing into thin air the moment you needed him most. But as your eyes and brain adjusted to the sudden jolt back to reality, you felt his arm wrapped around your waist, his breath warm on your back as he slept. You rolled to face him. He was there, he was with you and he was peaceful. You calmed yourself and settled back down beside him. Careful not to wake him, you placed a kiss on his cheek before allowing sleep to return to your body.

It was just another day in the life of Switchblade.

“... Someone who lives on an entirely different plane to all of you.” He shouted as he performed another frantic post match interview. “You’re all beneath me.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. He was good - no one could deny that - but you found a small spot of humor in the way he could scream and shout about god only knows what when you could tell he was only minutes from passing out. He had run himself ragged the past few months. Rest days had become fewer and farther between and it showed in the dark circles that had branded themselves below his eyes. Sometimes you wondered if the far off look he got during interviews was a product of acting or a product of his less than healthy sleep schedule.

It wasn’t easy for you either. You and Jay had been together for a little over a year and, admittedly, you hadn’t known what to expect at first. You had worked with plenty of wrestlers and you were familiar with the grind but none of that had prepared you for actually dating someone in the profession.

You hadn’t planned for the periods of long distance or having to wait hours after big matches just to congratulate him. There were days when he’d be exhausted from working, too tired to manage to dial your number and give you a goodnight call. But those were also the days that he’d send you a single heart emoji to remind you he was thinking about you and that he would see you soon.

For as low as things could get from time to time, he had always made a clear point to remind you how much he cared. Whether it was big things like helping you fly out to Japan to see him on his days off or little things like coming home with your favorite bottle of plum wine in hand, he always tried to do what he could to remind you that his heart was yours and you appreciated the sentiment.

Tonight was no different from other nights. You had been in town for the week and you had been lucky enough to catch him on a winning streak. Comforting his bruised ego during losses was easy enough but you were thankful to not have to spend time doing that, instead using that time for more intimate ventures. Now that your time with him was coming to a close you were hoping he’d make quick work of his melodramatic post match tirade but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Jay had started walking in your direction from the interview, still mumbling under his breath about the New Japan Cup. You got excited, a tiny spark shooting through your heart, the same as it always did anytime he was near. He seemed to see you but quickly turned on his heel, shouting back to the cameras. He was a notorious talker and you respected that quality but you were becoming desperate for a little more alone time before your departure. It was, however, becoming increasingly clear that that alone time seemed like it may never come.

You rolled your eyes. You just wanted him to shut up, to come back to you, give you the nod he always gave that said “I’m ready to go home now”.

“The new Jay-Pan Cup. If I’m in it - maybe I won’t be in it. Maybe I’m going home? Maybe I’m staying?” He shouted as he slapped the sides of the flat archway before the hall where you stood. “Who fucking knows? Who knows?”

His voice trailed off to a simple mutter, shaking his head from side to side. He walked slowly towards you and you waited for him to stick his hand out for you to take. Then, he walked slowly past you and you felt your brain reset for a moment. Had you stood too close to where the camera could see you? Had you upset him somehow? He had won so he had no reason to be grumpy.

You stood in place, not really sure whether you were expected to follow or stay where he had left you. You watched him walk further and further down the hall before abruptly stopping. His head shot up as if suddenly having an epiphany. Just as quickly as he had walked past you he turned on his heel. His eyes connected with yours and he offered a small, sheepish smile. You returned the expression as he walked back to where you stood, holding a hand out as he got close enough to reach you.

“Got a little caught up.” He murmured quietly, his voice ever so slightly raspy from all the yelling he had been doing only moments ago. “Sorry about that, princess.”

He leaned in for a chaste kiss on your cheek before pressing a lingering one to your lips. His hand in yours felt like home, the one that found your waist felt like the purest form of love. You brushed a few fingers over his cheek, tucking a few loose pieces of hair behind his ear.

“It’s okay. How’re you feeling?” You asked quietly. No one was around but you wanted to match Jay’s volume.

“I’d like to go home.”

You always felt a twinge of sympathy for him when his voice was completely shot. He sounded so warm and soft in comparison to his performed volume. You nodded, kissing him briefly before giving him one more look over.

“Please don’t say anything about the beard-” He started, knowing your mind better than anyone.

You didn’t spare him your remarks. Not this time. “It’s gotta get trimmed, Jay. You look like a hostage.”

It was cold. You felt your body quiver in the wind as it whipped through your jacket, snowflakes tangling in your hair. Your dress fluttered at the hem sending horrible chills through your entire body. You knew you should’ve worn your thick coat. You knew you should’ve worn your fleece lined tights.

You knew you should’ve stayed home.

Tears began to burn at the corners of your eyes as you walked around the block a third time.

You could’ve sworn you hadn’t parked this far from the restaurant.

All you had wanted was a nice night out. After a horrendous month you thought you deserved as much. You had spent more time crying in bed and calling out of work than you had eating dinners or seeing friends and tonight was meant to be a reprieve from that. It was meant to be your way of treating yourself to good food and good conversation. It was meant to be your way of treating yourself to a little slice of happiness in a sea of misery.

It was meant to be your way of treating yourself to a distraction from utter heartache.

Maybe it was the dessert. Or maybe it was the second glass of wine. You weren’t sure but suddenly, standing in your old neighborhood, you felt turned around and lost, unsure as to where you had come from or where you had been.

You remembered this area only slightly.

It hadn’t been long since you had been here but you had worked so, so hard to forget it.

You had worked hard to forget the dark green couch you had dreamed about owning for so long. You worked hard to forget the way the plants looked as they hung in the windows absorbing the sunlight and the books that were stacked up against the exposed brick wall.

You worked hard to forget how it felt to wake up with your head on Jay’s chest, his arm wrapped around you as though they were protecting you from any worldly harm.

You remembered certain locations. There was a corner shop somewhere near here with the best cookies wrapped in saran wrap by the cash register. You knew you were close to the gas station you’d stop at before every road trip. You could see the main road with the grocery store you visited every Sunday while your clothes were cycling in the laundromat next door.

But you couldn’t find your car.

Pressing the panic button was useless. The battery in your key fob had died a year ago. Jay had pestered you to get it fixed but you never did.

“How will you lock the car?” He had asked.

“The key.” You stated as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What if you lose the car?” He had pressed.

The tears began slipping down your cheeks as you remembered the conversation. He had known you so well and maybe if you had stayed with him this wouldn’t be happening.

Of course it wouldn’t be.

He would’ve walked back from the restaurant with you. He would’ve put his arm around you to keep you warm. He would’ve remembered where the car was.

If you had stayed with him you wouldn’t be looking for the car in the first place.

You were certain you had passed the same house repeatedly, a lit up reindeer still in the front yard in spite of the holiday season having since passed.

You couldn’t keep doing this.

You were cold. You were scared. It was dark and you were alone.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

The word echoed in your head over and over again and you couldn’t shake it. A shuddering sob was torn from your chest, the snow that had accumulated acting as a sort of soundproofing. You didn’t even know how you’d get home at this point but, god, you wanted to be warm at the very least.

So you did the only thing you knew to do.

You fumbled for your phone in your purse, keeping an eye on your surroundings as you shamefully dialed the one number you had sworn to never dial again.

“Hello?” He asked, his voice sounding almost groggy.

“Jay?”

You did your best not to sound as panicked as you were feeling as you spoke into the receiver.

It didn’t work.

“Hey, hey. What’s up?” You heard him as though he were jumping into action, sitting up straighter wherever he was. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You warbled. “I need your help.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I can’t find my car.”

“You can’t find your car?” He questioned, an incredulous edge to his voice. “Where are you?”

“I’m not sure. I’m by the boutique on the corner of 24th.”

You listened as you heard the familiar sounds of him standing from a seated position.

“Come home and I’ll help you find it.” He offered without a second thought.

He didn’t realize how those words caused your tears to flow faster. There was no home. Not for the two of you. Not anymore.

“I don’t know how to.” You murmured without questioning the way he constructed his sentence. “I’m lost.”

He was quiet. He knew what he had said. He knew how he had messed up.

“I’ll come find you, okay?” He asked, sympathy laced in his voice.

“Okay.” You agreed.

You stayed on the phone with him as he started his search you. You barely spoke, only listening to his breathing as he worked his way through the bitter cold air. It was a comfort. It almost made you forget the way your knees chattered in the frosty temperatures.

When you saw him he was jogging slowly towards you. His heavy winter jacket was wrapped around him, a pair of joggers adorning his legs and some sort of a bundle under his arm. You walked quickly in his direction until you stood just in front of him.

He looked you up and down before extending his hand, the mystery bundle outstretched towards you.

It was a thick, knit sweater.

It was his favorite sweater.

“I figured you weren’t wearing a real coat tonight.” He sighed. “Guess I wasn’t wrong.”

You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to reduce the urge to cry but it was hardly effective. You pulled your jacket off and pulled the sweater on. It smelled of his cologne and of every good memory you had ever made with him. But it also felt like a farewell of sorts - something you wanted but would never have again after this night.

The jacket hardly fit over the sleeves but you didn’t mind looking a bit like the Michelin man for the moment.

“Thanks.” You muttered towards the ground.

“Hey.” He spoke gently as he lifted your chin with his thumb and his index finger. “What’s going on? Why can’t you find your car?”

“I’m sorry.” You spoke softly, the words threatening to carry away in the wind.

“I’m not mad.” Jay stated. “I’m just confused. Where did you go?”

“I went to dinner with some friends.”

“Friends that live here?”

“Yeah. Sarah and Anna.” You nodded.

“Did you park at one of their apartments?”

You shook your head. “I parked near the restaurant.”

“What restaurant?”

“The Taverna.”

“We’re, like, eight blocks from the Taverna.” Jay noted. “Let's walk back that way.”

You nodded. Jay turned on his heel and forged a path as you hung behind like a wounded puppy. You hadn’t seen this man in months, after what was an incredibly painful break up, and now you had enlisted his help in finding your car in the blinding snow.

You felt awful.

But he didn’t seem upset. Not even a little put out. Just a bit confused, if anything.

As he walked, and as you trailed, he looked back over his shoulder to you, making sure you were still in tow. Occasionally, he’d slow so you could catch up. You never had been good at keeping pace with him.

You found yourself back in front of the restaurant, looking left and right but to no avail. Your car wasn’t parked here.

Identification of motor vehicles was becoming more and more difficult as the snow piled up, inch after inch, on every hood and trunk and sunroof, but Jay persisted. He went up the next block, occasionally brushing white powder off of license plates with his bare hands in an attempt to try and find a match. He checked every Prius, Corolla, and Civic to find your beat up Accord.

But he found nothing.

“What if it was stolen?” You worried, your voice shaking as anxiety began settling in.

“It was not stolen.” Jay chuckled, wryly. “You used to live here, you know. With that same old car, no less. If no one stole it when it was a few years younger they’re certainly not stealing it now.”

You crossed your arms defiantly, still not ready to completely forget the idea that your car might be gone forever.

“You would have to pay someone to steal your car.” Jay continued.

“Its not that bad!” You protested.

“The poor thing is held together by duct tape, rust, and a prayer.”

“It’s a fine car.”

You turned down a block you recognized and not because you had circled it repeatedly tonight. You recognized the house with the modern wooden facing on its ground floor. You recognized the house with the lavishly decorated patio. You recognized the trees that took up 80% of the sidewalk.

This was the street you used to live on.

“You’ll be lucky if the engine even turns over in this weather.”

You could tell Jay was amusing himself, certainly not lost in the memories this street brought back to you. It had been the two of you walking this path thousands of times in the past. Usually you held hands. Sometimes his arm would be around your waist.

Every once in a while it was like it was today, at least a foot separating your bodies, a wall of tension built between the two of you.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever find the damn thing.” You exhaled, resolute in your unhappiness.

Jay stopped walking and turned to you. He reached out, his hand stretched in your direction. Cautiously, you took it, weaving your fingers between his, and he pulled you just a little closer. His eyes searched yours for only a moment before a small, endearing smile drew across his face.

“You will find it.” Jay stated, his voice soft and warm. “I promise.”

“It feels hopeless.” You exhaled.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you out here.”

Jay could only shrug. “It’s no big deal.”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

You braced yourself to hear something you didn’t want to hear. Saturday nights had been your movie nights. They had been your pizza on the couch nights. They had been the nights when Jay would fall asleep with his head in your lap after one too many garlic knots and you would find the utmost pleasure in gently finger combing his hair.

You couldn’t be sure he hadn’t continued that tradition with another.

“No, of course not.” He shook his head. “You woke me up from a nap but that’s all.”

“No big weekend plans?” You asked, quietly.

Jay studied you, a crooked grin and a cocked eyebrow resting on his face. “Are you asking me if I have anyone over right now?”

“I was just wondering.”

With only a laugh, he turned once more, heading down the sidewalk with your hand wrapped in his. Together, you walked slower this time. What once was a frantic, hurried pace had become a leisurely stroll and you couldn’t tell if it was because inches upon inches of snow had piled up and driving home was becoming a more futile pursuit or if it was something more than that.

You felt him tighten his grip on your hand the tiniest bit as he looked over to you.

“Did you have a good dinner?”

You nodded. “It was nice.”

“Was it just Sarah and Anna?”

You nodded again.

“Cool.” He murmured.

It was quiet as you approached what once was your shared home. The door was still painted an egregious fire engine red and the front garden had been all but consumed by snow. You remembered spring time and planting flowers and vegetable plants and how excited he got when the first blossoms began to emerge. You remembered the fall and how you would always almost slip on the leaves that fell on the front steps so he’d hold your hand tight as you walked from the stoop to the sidewalk.

You looked up at Jay as he stood in front of those very same steps, his face framed by what used to be.

“Well, we can start walking back towards the restaurant if you want. Maybe we can check the next few blocks over.”

“Sure.” You mumbled, shivering from head to toe.

Jay’s eyes examined you, staring at the snow that was beginning to seep into your heels and the sheerness of your stockings. He shook his head.

“You’re gonna catch your death.” He muttered.

“I’m fine.” You stammered, hardly making a convincing argument.

“No. You’re not.” Jay stated, enunciating every syllable. “C’mon. Why don’t you wait inside? I’ll keep looking.”

The building looked so large and ominous now that it was no longer your home. The lights were on but it felt hollow and empty. You knew if you went in there you’d surely never want to leave again.

So you shook your head.

“I don’t want you out here dressed like that.” He pressed. “You’ll get sick.”

You tucked your chin to your chest, relishing the softness of his sweater, relishing the comfort it gave you.

“We’ll find the car soon.” You replied.

“Just go inside. I’ll call you if I find it-”

“I can’t go up there.” You blurted out.

Jay’s face fell. He was taken aback by your sudden outburst, confused and seemingly hurt.

“Why?” He asked.

“You know why.” You grumbled.

“I don’t. You lived there for years. It’s more your home than wherever the hell you live now.”

You stood still, your jaw threatening to drop at his comment.

“That’s why!” You yelled in response.

It was silent. There was the gentle twinkling sound of snow falling onto snow and the clouds of your individual breaths mingling in the air, as close as the two of you would ever be ever again.

“I can’t go up there.”

Jay stepped closer, just enough for you to see a glimmer of something in his eyes.

“At least wait in the alcove. Just for a few minutes.” He murmured. “I’ll be quick.”

And you knew what he was saying. But you also knew what he meant.

You bit your lip and swallowed your protestations and nodded. He walked you up the stairs, your hand never leaving his, and he unlocked the front door. The alcove was dark but the rest of the house was bursting with warm light. You immediately felt the snow beginning to melt off of you.

“I’ll be quick.” He repeated as he shut the door.

You watched him begin to jog back down the street to the neighboring block. You didn’t dare explore the place you had once called home. You didn’t dare look at the things you both had once shared.

But the light emanating from the living room looked so cozy.

And like a moth to a flame, you kicked your heels off and tiptoed across the hardwood floor.

There were still books stacked against the brick wall but only half as many. A box of pizza sat open on the coffee table and a screensaver had taken up residence on the television. You held your breath as you walked around, hoping to not find evidence of a guest.

But what you found instead was almost, in some ways, more heartbreaking.

The green couch was gone. In its place was a couch the color of goldenrod or sunflowers. You wanted to cry but you knew better than to.

You wondered how much more had changed in your absence. The kitchen was still painted the same old shade of tangerine. The table was still the same beat up, wooden circle that he had gotten at a yard sale for $5. You peeked your head into the bedroom to find one side of the bed made up and one side sloppily thrown together. The same pictures still hung over the headboard.

In the window you could see the same plants still dangling freely but they looked sad and dry. You walked to the cabinet where you had always kept the cups and pulled a pint glass out, filling it with water from the tap. Carefully, you brought the water to the poor greenery and poured it in.

Jay never was very good at keeping them alive.

As you made your way back to the living room the yellow couch stared at you. It screamed at you. It was the proof. It was the proof you needed to know things would never go back to how they were.

You took the sweater off and folded it neatly. You pulled your jacket tight around your body and averted your eyes for fear an inanimate object might make you cry.

You hadn’t expected to see the door open so soon, just as Jay hadn’t expected to see you standing there in the middle of his living room. The smile on his face fell as he saw the sadness in your eyes.

“You okay?” He asked quietly, shutting the door behind him.

“Your couch is new.” You gestured towards the piece of furniture.

“Oh.” Confusion rested on Jay’s brow. “Yeah. I got it a few weeks ago.”

You nodded, raking your teeth over your bottom lip, willing your tears back behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if you wanted the other one.” He hurried to quell the emotions he saw running across your face but you only shook your head.

“No, no. It’s fine.” You waved him off. “It’s nice.”

Jay walked closer, not bothering to take his jacket off. “Hey, no, come on. I know how much you loved that couch. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I just thought you liked it too.”

“I did!” He exclaimed. “I really loved that couch.”

“But you got rid of it?”

You watched as he tried a million different times to explain himself in a million different ways. No words came out. Eventually, his eyes connected with yours, an apology written in the way he studied your face.

“I understand.” You nodded.

And you did. Because you would’ve done the exact same thing.

“I kept it for a while but I just - it wasn’t my couch, was it?” He sighed. “I couldn’t sit on it without you. And the hardwood floor really started hurting my tailbone.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

He took a step closer to you and you felt your heart rate begin to speed up. His head tilted slightly, hoping to catch your eye as you stared at the ground.

“New one is nice though.” He attempted to persuade. “You can go sit on it. It’s not as stiff.”

You shook your head.

“I really should get going.”

Your bodies lingered in the shared space for a while, the sound of melted snow dripping off of Jay’s coat becoming the only audible noise. You wanted to stand there forever. But before forever came, Jay’s eyes lit up and he turned on his heel walking back towards the alcove. He waved his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Speaking of.” He started, pointing his index finger perpendicular to the glass window of the front door.

You followed him and looked to where he was indicating.

There, just across the street from the front steps, under at least four or five inches of snow, sat your car.

“No.” You murmured in disbelief, shocked at your own ignorance.

You slipped your shoes on and hurried out the door, purse in hand. The key slipped easily into the lock and, before you knew it, you found yourself sitting in the car you thought you had lost forever.

“Yup.” He chuckled, following slowly behind. “Went two blocks down and came back to see it sitting there. Guess you really are a creature of habit.”

You had avoided this block out of spite. You had done everything in your power to not have to see the old house or the glow of the lights from inside or the garden. You had wanted to pretend this street didn’t exist. You swore up and down you wouldn’t have been so silly to park on it so there was no point in checking it.

But there you were.

“God. Thank you for finding it!” You exclaimed. You put the key in the ignition and turned it a few times before the engine kicked in, the lights illuminating the car in front of you. “I told you it’d turn on.”

Jay only rolled his eyes.

You sat in silence as heat filled the cab, quickly escaping into the world via your open door. You were thrilled to know you were one step closer to leaving this horrendous night and making your way home.

That excitement, however, wore off quickly as you realized you couldn’t see out the windshield. And even if you could, your little sedan was not going to make it more than an inch on the unplowed street. While you had relief in the form of knowing where your car was, anxiety returned as you realized you were still far from home.

Jay seemed to realize this at the same time as you.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to drive it.” He murmured, looking to his feet.

“I might be able to if I can just get to the main road.” You reasoned.

“I don’t think you should drive.” He finally stated.

There was no point arguing. He was right. You were stuck.

You removed the key from the ignition and stood from the driver’s seat, shutting the door as you exited.

“I could just go to Sarah’s.” You shrugged.

“You’ll get lost again.”

“Or Anna’s. She might be closer.”

“You’re going to freeze to death.”

“I think she’s just a few blocks up the street.”

“I think you should st-”

Before Jay could finish his thought, you held a finger to his lips.

“No.”

He took a step closer and you dropped your hand down, placing it against Jay’s chest. All you wanted was to create space before his proximity became intoxicating. Instead of backing up, he took your hand in his, squeezing it where it lay.

“Jay-” You started but his words came out quicker.

“Stay for a bit.” He exhaled before you could stop him again. “Just for a bit.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know I can’t.” You repeated, your voice beginning to crack.

Jay was so close now, snowflakes could hardly fall between the two of you. You felt the heat from his body keeping you warm. It could almost be considered a comfort were it not for the fact that it made you feel like you were on the brink of breaking down.

“You can.” He whispered. “I’m asking you to.”

And the tears began flowing, hot rivulets streaming down your cheeks. You tried to hide it but your body shook as every lost memory came flooding back. Between your shivers and each shuddering breath you felt as though your body were on vibrate.

And then there was stillness. And you felt Jay’s arms wrap around you, pulling you tight to him and, as if on instinct, you reciprocated the affection. Because he was the anchor you had needed. He was the calm in the storm.

“Can we go inside?” You whispered into his chest, finally ready to give in to your most basic need.

“Of course.”

Slowly, you made your way up the front stairs and past the front door. Jay helped you out of your shoes and your jacket. He walked you to the new couch and you curled up in his arms, your tears staining his shirt with mascara and eyeshadow. He pushed your hair away from your forehead and pressed a kiss to your freezing cold skin.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “You’re home.”

You brought your head to his shoulder.

“I’ve been going crazy without you.” You mumbled into his shirt.

“So I’m not the only one, then?” He laughed.

You shook your head gently.

“No.”

The crying eventually subsided to exhausted sniffles. You pulled his sweater - the one you had folded so neatly for him - back over your head and wrapped the blanket you had bought with him last October around your legs. He moved just enough so you could rest your head in his lap, his fingers absentmindedly raking over snow-drenched hair. He turned his movie back on and you smiled because it was the first one you had ever watched with him.

And when you fell asleep, clutching his leg, he woke you and led you to the bedroom as though it were any regular Saturday. And together you curled up under the blankets and the duvet, his hand finding your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. And he held you tight until the sun came up.

When light found its way to your eyes, bouncing off the fresh piles of snow, you were still pressed to Jay’s chest.

Slowly, he woke and squeezed you tighter.

“I should get going.” You whispered into his abdomen.

“You’ve been gone long enough.” He sighed. “I think you should stay.”

“If I stay I’m not going to leave.”

You felt solemn as you spoke, as though you were addressing an unavoidable fact. But Jay simply dragged a finger down your cheek and under your chin, lifting your head so you were facing him. Carefully, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. It was a different kiss. It was a new kiss. It was a kiss with beginnings and optimism laced into it.

“I really hope you’re right.” He murmured as he pulled away.

So you remained in bed. And time passed but you remained tangled up in one another. And when he made you coffee, he gave you his sweats to put on.

The streets were eventually plowed, the sun eventually warmed the snow until it melted. Your car was eventually freed from it’s wintery prison.

You had been up for hours.

After a full morning of setting up dressing rooms and backstage interview spaces you were collapsed in a back hallway, your head in your hands, your elbows propped up on your knees. Juice stood overhead, stretching, waiting for you to say something - anything at all.

“Heads up.” He nodded towards the distance.

You lifted your head and rubbed the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand to see a knight in shining armor drawing ever closer to you: David Finlay with an iced coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

“Here you are.” He sang, ducking slightly to present the drink with a flourish. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

You felt your heart flutter as his fingertips grazed yours in the exchange. His gaze washed over you and your cheeks went pink.

A small smile wound its way over his face as he walked quickly past you.

For the last year and a half, this had been the source of all your angst and all your stress. Cups of coffee on the fly. Lingering glances from a distance. Attention when you had least expected it.

It wasn’t always like this.

When you met Juice (however many years ago) things were normal - simple, even. But, you quickly found that David Finlay was tied to him at the hip. And so, trips to the mall would become trios lunches just as a trip to the gym would turn into a sparring session for the two men.

It wasn’t until you all ended up at the same party that things started to get a little hazy.

Juice had vanished to talk to some girl that had caught his eye and you had found your way to the kitchen, away from the chatter and thumping bass. You found a seat on the countertop, head in your phone and hand in a bowl of Chex Mix, when another body joined you.

David.

He walked up to you, leaning against the ledge to your right, a bright grin pushing his cheeks up.

“Having fun in here?” He asked.

“It’s too loud.” You gestured to the living room.

“You want me to leave you alone?”

You looked at him from beneath your brow, sizing him up before shaking your head playfully. A smile pressed through your pursed lips as you watched him pretend to be relieved.

“Thanks.” He murmured.

And he stood there in silence, simply happy to be beside you, picking from the leftover party snacks. Eventually, conversation came easily. You asked him about meeting Juice and he asked you the same question. You asked him about wrestling and he asked you about backstage work. You asked him if he had anything original to ask you and he only chuckled quietly to himself.

“Hmm…” He thought, rounding your side to stand in front of where you sat. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Green. Next question.”

“Okay.” His hands met your knees and a burning flush crept up your cheeks. “Favorite season?”

“Fall. These are too easy, Finlay.”

David furrowed his brow and leaned in a little closer. Maybe it was the second vodka tonic or maybe it was sheer courage but you mimicked his face and leaned in just as close until your foreheads were touching.

“If I gave you my number would you text me?” He asked.

Your heart threatened to race its way out of your chest and run itself all the way back home.

“Like how friends text each other? Of course, David. I’d love to make a new friend.” You teased.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He protested, stepping away while tossing his head back so the loose strands of his messy bun fell down his neck.

“How’d you mean it then?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“I meant if I wanted to text you and maybe, like, take you out. I don’t know!”

“I asked you for a difficult question.” You smiled.

“It’s not like you’ve answered.”

You didn’t have to. Instead you held your phone in his direction and he stared at it for a moment until you wiggled it around. He took it and added his phone number before sending a text to himself, thereby putting you in his contacts. He handed the phone back and returned his hands to the tops of your knees.

He leaned in towards you once more and you leaned in just as much. You wondered if he was going to kiss you. You wondered if you’d feel that lip ring against your lips or his scruff against your skin. And he lingered for just a second too long, convincing you the moment was imminent.

But then he pulled away. And he returned to the living room.

You had texted him but you had never spoken of that night ever again. It was your secret.

And now, there you sat, in the backstage hall, just outside of the locker rooms, David hurrying away with a suitcase rolling behind him and his own iced coffee in hand.

“Nothing for me?” Called Juice.

“I can’t have two Valentine’s!” David called over his shoulder.

Juice only shook his head, sliding down to a seated position beside you.

“What’s that about?” He asked.

“You shouldn’t even be drinking coffee before a match. You know that.” You shrugged.

But that was hardly the answer Juice was looking for.

“He talks about you a lot.” He muttered.

This caused you to lift your head towards your friend, confusion wracking your face. He looked perturbed by the fact.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“He’s always going on about something you did or something funny that you said.” Juice spoke, his brow furrowed as though he were confused. “Hell, he talked about getting you this coffee at least twenty times last week.”

You sipped your drink casually, hoping Juice wouldn’t put two and two together. He looked up to you and then back down at the tape around his wrists.

“Nothings going on with you guys, right?”

“No.” You quickly responded. “No, that’s silly.”

His loss for words was only furthered by your instant denial.

“I wouldn’t care, you know.” He spoke slowly. “I just feel like if my two best friends are together I should be aware.”

“Nothing’s going on. And, anyways, do you really think I wouldn’t tell you?”

Juice shrugged.

You reached over and ruffled his hair, causing his pensive expression to recede into a smile. He batted your hand away before standing back up.

And so the day continued. Juice and David had their match and you continued doing your job. You hardly saw the two aside from fleeting interactions as they walked from the locker rooms to the ring and back. Occasionally, you’d hear one or both of them laughing hysterically in the distance and you wished you could be there with them.

The show finished and the arena cleared, wrestlers and crew packed up and went home. You so badly wanted to be a part of the mass exodus but instead you found yourself in a nearly empty back hall, rapidly shoving items into your day bag. Nothing would fit and you were certain the last shuttle back to the hotel had already departed. Frustration and exhaustion began to mount as the urge to cry began to burn in the back of your throat.

You thought you had a handle on it. You thought you’d be able to hold off on crying until getting back to your bed.

And then you dropped a stack of folders, sending papers flying every which way on the dirty floor.

“Fuck!” You shouted, hot, flustered tears quickly rolling down your cheeks.

“Everything okay out here?” A familiar voice asked, appearing from the locker room.

There stood David, rolling suitcase in tow behind him and a sympathetic smile on his face. It only made you want to cry harder.

“Yeah.” You murmured, wiping your hands over your face in an attempt to hide any evidence of an emotional breakdown.

Slowly, he knelt down by your side and began gathering the loose sheets, stacking them gently into one pile and the now empty folders into another.

“It’s gonna take me ages to get these organized again.” You groaned.

You hoped a heavy sigh might mask the way your voice warbled under the weight of unhappiness but it was useless. David turned to you, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently.

“Hey. No use crying over spilled paperwork.” He quipped, a small grin lighting up his words.

“You don’t understand. This took me so long to get right in the first place.”

David stood, leaving you to sit alone on the ground. He placed the folders and papers on a table before returning to your side. With a finger under your chin he lifted your gaze to meet his, causing butterflies to ring through your chest, temporarily replacing the melancholy. His thumb dabbed a solitary tear away from the corner of your eye as he searched your face for something resembling peace.

“It’s all good.” He spoke softly, his warm words meant only for you in your time of need. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get it all put back together. I bet it's not even as bad as it looked.”

You found yourself nodding in response to his words. There was something in his touch that had calmed you almost instantly, something that comforted you immediately.

“Now, c’mon let's get out of here before they lock us in.”

David stood quickly, holding a hand out to you. You took it and he hoisted you to your feet. His fingers wove themselves between yours as you walked to gather your items and you wondered if he realized the sort of somersaults he was inspiring in your heart. When his grip on you tightened you knew he must.

He took your bag and your papers, you took the nearly finished coffee from that morning. He offered you a quick smile before gesturing towards the exit.

You both walked in silence for a bit. It was weird but, then again, things had been weird. You felt your brain insisting that everything had been easy at first - that it had been normal at one point. But now you found yourself desperate to remember what normal felt like, if only to make something resembling conversation.

Occasionally, he’d glance in your direction and you’d blush and you wondered if this was your new way of conversing.

“Got any plans for tonight?” He finally asked.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No hot Valentine's Day dates or anything?” He continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but let out a tiny laugh. “No, no. Just myself and those papers you’re holding.”

He nodded as you held the door open for him.

“I think I’ll have to call a cab.” You sighed, looking for a shuttle but finding nothing.

“Me too.” David agreed.

“Well, we’re going the same way. We could share one.”

David seemed to consider the offer for a moment before shrugging a sort of approval. Slowly, he lowered himself to a seated position onto a shallow stone wall, You called for the cab as he carefully flickered the edges of the paper in his hands. You watched him with the tiniest hint of a grin and when his bright, blue eyes caught yours it deepend into a beaming smile.

Once you hung up you became painfully aware of the silence in the air.

“They’ll be here in ten minutes.” You exhaled as you sat down beside him.

“Cool.”

The awkwardness finally hit its boiling point inside of you and you couldn’t stand it any longer. You turned towards David, catching him off guard, and swallowed all of the pride you had ever known.

“What’s going on?” You asked quickly.

David stared at you for a moment, blankness consuming his expression.

“Just helping out a friend, I thought. What do you mean?” He responded, his head cocked to the side.

“What do I mean? You’ve been weird around me for a while. Since the party.”

David waved a hand at you, brushing you off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were texting!”

“Your last text to me was to tell me it was raining and to make sure I’d bring an umbrella to the show.”

“Right! That’s not weird.”

“Juice was telling me you talk about me!”

You could see the panic register on David’s face as he realized his best friend had sold him out.

“That’s not-”

“Were you or were you not flirting at the party?”

David struggled as he deliberated between placing your papers and folders beside him or holding them tight to his chest. His face was a mixture of bashfulness and defensiveness as he tried to find the right words to send back in your direction.

Your voice quieted, suddenly feeling just a bit too shy.

“You can just say you were drunk.” You laughed, nervously.

“Well - I - you know what?” He started but backed down immediately, drawing into himself just enough for you to notice. “I’d be lying if I said that was why I asked for your number.”

The wind whistled between your faces, the tension of a schoolyard crush coming to light clogging up the air. He looked to you and you looked away, blushing far too hard to continue the conversation. He grinned before looking down at the fluttering sheets of white in his hands.

“I really think you’re cool.” He continued.

“Oh you think I’m cool?” You teased.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I think you’re really cool.”

“Not cool enough to have a Valentine’s Day date, I guess.”

“Is this not enough for you.” He asked, gesturing with one hand to the desolate arena you were sat in front of.

You locked your gaze on him as he watched the road for a car resembling that of a taxi. The strands of hair free of his ponytail holder fluttered in the wind as he squinted in the sunlight.

“So what about you? No plans tonight?” You asked.

He slapped a hand to his chest pretending to be taken aback.

“Wow. You’re just assuming I don’t have something going on?” He scoffed.

“Well you don’t seem to be in any sort of rush to get anywhere. You were the last one out of the locker rooms.”

“Maybe I’m just a laid back guy. Have you considered that?”

You raised your hands in surrender as he continued to put on his little song and dance. When he realized you had no more deductions he puffed his chest and lifted his chin just slightly.

“For your information, I do have a date tonight.” He announced.

Your heart fell to your feet. It was silly, but the Valentine’s Day coffee in your hand suddenly felt like an empty gesture - one you no longer understood. Certainly, Juice would’ve told you if there was someone else in David’s life. Certainly he wouldn’t have let you flirt with someone who was only going to hurt you.

“Do you now, Finlay?”

“Yeah. She’s just at work right now so I’m not in any hurry.”

“Are you guys doing anything cool?” You continued, doing your best to not let your voice shake.

“Nah. Not really. I’m hoping we’ll just hang out in my hotel room.”

Your mouth formed an “o”, no longer interested in any details he might be able to offer you. But still he persisted.

“She’s probably pretty tired after a day like today so I think we’ll just order some food, watch a movie.”

You nodded, digging your nails into the centers of your palms. You wanted nothing more than for your ears to simply stop working. You wanted him to stop speaking.

“She’s also got a lot of paperwork to sort through so I’ll probably end up helping her with that. Maybe not the most riveting first date.”

Your brain fell silent. It felt as though the wind stopped and the whole world went still. The only sound you could hear was David’s smug, self satisfied smile pulling its way across his cheeks.

“You’re a jackass!” You exclaimed.

“I had you going though, didn’t I.”

“Is that how you always ask girls out?”

“Depends on if you say yes or not.”

“You never asked me a question.”

David stared at you, mouth open, incredulous, for a moment before shaking his head.

“Would you like to hang out when we get back to the hotel?”

“Just hang out? Like two pals? Just two buddies spending some time together?” You pushed, knowing you were beginning to drive him insane.

He let out a heavy sigh before reformulating his question.

“Would you like to go on a date with me back to my hotel room?”

You inhaled a scandalized gasp, only pushing David closer to the brink of getting up and walking away.

“That’s a bit forward of you isn’t it, Finlay?”

David dropped his head back and exhaled a long, slow, groan. “Can you just say yes?”

Carefully, you pushed off of the stone wall and leaned in close to him, your forehead creased with concentration as you looked him over once and then twice. Once you felt you had sufficiently put him through the ringer, you gently kissed his cheek, eliciting a burning red flush from his face.

“Yes.” You murmured, through a pleased grin.

“Yes?” David asked.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me on a date since the party. You know, when you said you wanted to text me to ask me out on a date.” You rolled your eyes.

He chuckled with a small nod. “I meant to ask you sooner but we were both just so busy.”

“And you thought that the best time was twenty minutes after watching me cry about paperwork?”

“I didn’t want to do it in front of Juice.”

“You could've texted me.”

“I thought you might not see it.”

“What if I left before you?”

“I was hoping the coffee might make you stick around.” He shrugged. “Anyways, same hotel and all that.”

He wasn’t wrong. You had been invited to cut your shift early but you opted to stick around if only to thank him for the drink. And you were thankful your attraction to this man outweighed your desire to take a nap.

“It would’ve sucked if I left.” You sighed.

“I would’ve had to ask Juice for your room number. It would’ve been awkward.” He laughed, his voice trailing off. “But I’m glad you didn’t leave.”

A warmth spread over your cheeks as you shot your eyes to the ground. David’s hand found yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing your gaze back to his. He sent a beaming grin in your direction and you felt the gentle hum of a thousand butterflies awaken in your stomach.

Eventually, the taxi pulled up to where you sat. David stood first and waited for you to open the door for him. As the car drove down winding roads the skies became gray and a chill rippled through the air. But your fingers remained intertwined with his and that was enough for you.

When you reached the hotel he helped you drop your belongings off in your room before walking you up to his. He ordered you food and you laid on the bed, flipping through channel after channel. And when you accidentally fell asleep, curled up against his pillow, he did his best to try to organize your papers for you.

Eventually, your eyes blinked open and you found yourself beneath a blanket, comfortable and warm, David still sitting beside you.

“Good morning.” He chirped.

“What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Guess I’m not much of a date.” You sighed.

“You’re fine.” He smiled. “I’m still happy you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you up and down before confidently nodding. “Yeah.”

So you crawled closer, closing the gap he had intentionally left for your comfort, and wrapped an arm over his waist. You laid yourself on his chest and he gently kissed the crown of your head.

And you felt safe. And you felt at home. And it didn’t matter that you had slept through most of the evening.