Burning Red

Busy Streets and Busy Lives

"Again, I'm so so sorry. I really need to watch where I'm going," she laughed nervously.

He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Like I said, it's no big deal. You sure you're good?"

He was asking her if she was okay after she had been the one to slam into him. She smiled. "Yeah. I think I'm good. Have a nice day!" she said with an awkward wave before ducking out of the shop, clutching her now half-empty and squished paper coffee cup. Something about the stranger's voice tugged at a memory suppressed far in the back of her mind. He seemed so... familiar? Nothing about it made sense though. She didn't know a single person in Seattle.

Actually, that was lie. She knew one. But they hadn't seen each other since high school, and texted once a year to tell each other happy birthday. They had corresponded a little more over the past few weeks, as he'd offered to help her get acclimated to life in Seattle, suggesting restaurants and grocery stores for her to visit, but other than that, she knew no one.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─

POV: Jack

He showed up at the station five minutes late and partially drenched in that poor girl's coffee. Caramel-something, by the smell of it.

"Look who decided to show up," Captain Herrera drawled when he entered the station's kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping coffee out of a chipped mug. Jack rolled his eyes endearingly, knowing Andy was only teasing him.

"I had a bit of an incident on the way here," he said, grabbing a plate of leftover scrambled eggs and sitting down at the table.

"Jeez, you smell like a walking Starbucks," Vic said when he sat down. He peeled his navy uniform shirt away from his chest, sticky caramel and milk residue stuck to his skin. Gross. Oh well, he'd been covered in worse. Firefighters were also paramedics, which meant dealing with anything from smoke to bloody vomit.

"Does the fact that you smell like a basic white girl drink have anything to do with your incident this morning?" Travis asked.

"Yes, Montgomery, it does."

"Did you fight a barista?" Andy teased.

"Twenty bucks says he lost," Maya Bishop added in, her head in the refrigerator as she dug around looking for something.

"A pretty girl spilled coffee all over me this morning," he said sheepishly.

Montgomery's brows shot up. "Oh snap."

"Jack's making moves," laughed Herrera.

"So did you get her number, or..?" Vic's voice trailed off. Jack laughed and shook his head. "No guys, sorry to disappoint."

"What the hell, Gibson," Maya said whirling around and slamming the fridge shut. "Rule number one of dating women: Ask. For. Their. Number."

"She was in a hurry!" he protested, recalling her frazzled expression and stumbling speech. Still, something about her was hauntingly familiar. He chose to ignore it.

Luckily, before he could be subject to anymore playful harassment from his crew, the alarm went off. They jumped up and raced to put on their turnouts, plates and cups left strewn about the kitchen.

"Gibson, you're on desk duty!" Herrera called.

"What? That's not fair!" he threw his hands up.

"You snooze you lose!" Vic teased, running past him.

Jack made his way downstairs as the fire truck sped out of the barn and off to whatever address the call had come in from. The rest of the station was either on a different call or off today, leaving him alone behind the desk. He had a love-hate relationship with desk duty. On one hand, it was nice if he was tired. On the other hand, it gave him way too much time to become lost in his own thoughts, and he was missing out on all the action. Everyone had to do it though, and today just happened to be his day.

Pulling out the chair and settling in, he took out his phone to see two text messages.

Jack, I'm calling you later tonight.

Seattle is crazy. Nothing like Texas. Pls send help 😭

He liked her message and sent a reply, giving her a time to call him. He wasn't one to turn down an old friend in need of help, even if they hadn't seen each other in a decade and texted once a year.

The girl he remembered from high school was probably unrecognizable now, and he knew that if he ran into her on the street he'd have no clue who she was. There was something unsettling about being in contact, in the same city, yet having no clue what either looked or sounded like ten years later.

Still, he didn't mind.