His Name Is Jake Saunders

No Cash, No Trash

"Will you stop playing with your nose," I said, smacking Jake's hand away.

"It looks weird," he muttered, analysing every detail of his reflection in the mirror.

I rolled my eyes, tossing my salad (like romaine; damn that song!). "It does not."

Jake straightened out of his hunch and turned around. "I think he messed it up pretty bad."

Jake's nose wasn't entirely damaged. The doctor had to fix him up pretty good though. And he had to walk around with his nose bruised purple and blue, with a strap of white over the bridge. Jake didn't even show for work for most of the time, and he avoided people with ninja-like stealth and skill. I'd never seen someone so vain in my life, but then again, was it really vanity or embarrassment?

Jake would probably rather it be embarrassment. Even though the Tin Man revealed to me that he did have a heart after all, he was reluctant to keep it 7-11 to me. I don't blame him; it's not like it's something that can be kept easily open for a long time. Baby steps, it's all I'm counting on now, baby steps.

"So what's the agenda for today," Jake snaked his fingers around my waist from behind, "after you make super-healthy food?"

I tried concentrating on the salad. There's little ingredients in the making of one so it was rather hard to focus; I did manage to slow down so it seemed like I had a lot more to do. "I was thinking we got out."

"In public?"

I chuckled. "Yes, Jake, in public."

Somehow, with all that's been going, Jake and I have been feeding off each other's own nervousness. Should Robert find out about our getting together, I was sure I'd be out on my ass. But Jake had his own reservations about revealing the veracity of our relationship in public. I mean, we live in New York City, but this guy was so sure that Robert would bump into us in the worst possible moment. Perhaps when our guard is down, too.

"Don't worry," I said, assuring Jake and cupping his face. "There's nothing to be nervous about."

"I know it seems kind of silly, but..." he shrugged.

"Hey, we can just say we're comparing notes. I'm sure he'd buy it." I smiled. Jake mirrored my own.

I felt a churn in my stomach at the thought of lying to Robert again. My boss. I don't want the lies to come easy. Then I'd know for sure I'm being a douche to Robert.

Jake leaned forward, lowering his head and pressed his soft lips against mine. It was a kiss I hadn't felt before between us; and I struggled, in the midst of the sweetness pulverising my every thought, what it meant. The kiss was really...gentle and enchanting. When Jake pulled back he remained stroking my jawline.

Why is he giving me that look? A look like he was hiding something from me; a cheeky secret that two kids hold, one forgets, the other remembers and teases the other until they pay up with ice-cream for even a hint. What was that look?

"Okay, let's go," he took my hand and pulled.

It was a bright, sunny noon. Women in dresses and skirts and hats and big, fat, fashion sunglasses too big for their faces stalking the vibrant, electric streets of New York City. I was walking beside Jake, on our way to Central Park, when about a couple blocks in I realised we were hand-in-hand. I blushed when I noticed, but I didn't say anything. Of course, my hand started getting clammy. I couldn't even hear what Jake was talking about, everything just began evolving into a blur. People around me turned into orbs of light, coloured by what they wore, brightened up by the rays of the sun; Jake's voice resounded with a beat so smooth and silky, so far off and distant. Coming closer, and closer, and closer, until...

...Suddenly, Jake snatched his hand away and I felt a push on my arm, jolting my body to the side into an alleyway and onto garbage. Miraculously comfy landing, incredibly smelly platform. Ick!

"Dad!" Jake beamed, staring straight. Then, he swiftly peered down at me, apologetic eyes, soft and rounded, and an imploring gesture with his hands, mouthing the words, "Sorry, so sorry." He quickly straightened up when, I assume, his father began speaking to him again.

I lay in the trash, legs fanned out and apart, my arms too, as if I were King Slob on the throne of Kingdom Garbage, watching Jake disappear off around the corner.

Yup, this day was too good to be true. Thanks, Universe!

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