Jae is slowly beginning to see that maybe she is worth this friendship. Only she is still very confused and very self-conscious about it. Thanks for the votes and all the reads and the comments. Much obliged!
I'm gonna move over to fight with my TWD story, Breath of Life, because man, do I pick the story lines that are just peachy, or what! I'm confused myself already and I need to sort the pieces I've written before I even want to start confusing anyone else.
Two days later Norman called to me feeling utterly embarrassed.
It was warm June Saturday afternoon and I was pretending to like to lie on a blanket in the sunny spot on the roof while trying to figure out what was wrong with the lyrics I had been writing for the past hour. I scribbled some notes to the side of the paper about the melody of the song, and returned to stare at the lyrics. This was going to be one pain in the butt with the band, and I already knew it. At the moment it was the pain of my existence.
Not the easiest one, boys, sorry! I wrote at the bottom of the sheet, and drew a little smiley face next to it. I was in the middle of something really stupid, which I quickly penned over, when he called. He apologized three times in the first sentence alone, and I had to stop him from going on for the fourth time.
“You were tired,” I said, trying to sound comforting when he groaned in protestation, “It happens.”
“Hell yes I was, but I wanted to talk to you!” he snapped out loud, probably harder than he had intended to, making me wince in the process. There was a sudden silence, and then he said cautiously, “Uh, wait, did you just make a reference to impotence there?”
“I - - uh, what? No?!” I slapped my hand over my mouth after I had shrieked out loud. I was extremely grateful that I had this own access to the roof, and that I was completely alone at that very moment, without any prying eyes and ears around me. When I blushed, it felt like water tumbling over the edge of the Victoria Falls.
If I had made such a thing, I certainly didn’t mean to. I was absolutely mortified, as I sat up, and blinked few times, realizing what I had actually said, “Oh, God. I d-did, didn’t I?”
He burst into laughter and made me blush even more. I buried my face into my palm and shook my head. Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed.
“Let me tell you that everything works just fine,” he said, full of manly pride and sounding just a tad snappy, feeling all huffy about such an implication coming from me.
“I’m sorry!” I blurted out and was so close to end the call right there.
It was horrible, I was horrible! I didn’t want him to think that I was insinuating I was thinking how his junk actually performed! I didn’t want to go anywhere near that area in the conversation, I was freaked out as it was, talking to him on a phone, let alone to think what did and did not work on his physique. Or what that working could and could not do with me. My whole body shuddered almost violently when I thought of that and I was immensely glad that we were just having this conversation over the phone and not in person or via Skype.
I heard him laugh out loud and I relaxed a bit.
“It’s alright, Sweetheart,” he said with a voice that was laced with milk and toast and honey.
I shuddered and out of a habit ducked my head down. I was still too shocked to say anything. I didn’t know what to say if there was anything to say. I was barely comfortable speaking how sexy and alluring my performances needed to be on stage with Jon, and here I was making impotence references at him and his working parts.
“You there?” he asked suddenly and I replied with sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he went on.
I kept quiet still.
“I’m sorry,” he offered again, and sighed then, “This wouldn’t have happened if I was in New York,” he growled, “Fuck!”
It woke me up from my mute coma and I tilted my head, “S-So you’re o-out of town?” I asked curious.
“I’m in Georgia, Sweetheart. I thought you knew,” he answered, amused, “I thought you were my Intense Researcher?”
“I’m - - I’m not,” I replied still mortified, and on the verge of tears, I didn’t want him to think that I spent all evenings on a computer just to find information about him, “T-Those were y-your words, n-not mine,” the answer was meant to be spikier, but the stammering, and my voice cracking all of a sudden took the edge out of it. After a moment, though, my brain caught up with me, and I remembered hearing that they did film the Walking Dead in Georgia during the summer. They couldn’t exactly have half-naked walkers roaming around in snow and freezing temperatures.
“That TV show, The Walking Dead,” I then stated, and made him laugh quietly as a reply, “Yup. Though, I’m coming back to New York this weekend, though. We’re taking a little summer vacation now. Thought you might wanna meet then, I could at least make up for falling asleep on you, and I still owe you that breakfast.”
I remembered that breakfast offer he had to back off last time I’d seen him. Even though he seemed to take it seriously, I hadn’t even considered it a possibility that I’d hold him onto that promise. And he certainly didn’t need to be sorry for falling asleep, he had been tired, and like I had said before he needed to remember to take care of himself.
“Y-You don’t owe me anything,” I mumbled shaking my head. I wish he could have seen it.
“Yeah, I do,” he stated and was about to say something, when I heard shuffling, like he switched the phone from ear to ear. He didn’t say anything more, and I frowned thinking the line had been cut.
“Sorry about that,” he said then suddenly, “I’m at the set; they want me to go back. How about if I call you a little later, you can think about where you wanna eat that breakfast, and I’ll oblige to that wish of yours.”
I was stunned and completely wordless, “I - - uh - - w-wait - -,” I stammered.
“Bye, Sweetheart,” he said, again his voice making my skin crawl when he called me ‘sweetheart’ to which I was now used to, but not at the way he said it now. I tried to come up with something to answer to him, but he was faster and ended the call with a lingering chuckle.
I swear if I had not been sitting down I would have keeled over.
* * *
On a very sunny and New York noisy Saturday morning I woke at 5:30 am promptly. There was warm sunlight streaming in through the upper parts of my three bedroom windows, and creating a playful display of shadow and light on the floor and the walls. I stretched and yawned, curling back to a ball and hugged my pillow and the fluffy blanket with all the love that only a ‘Saturday morning, no rush to anywhere’ feeling could bring out.
That was, until I remembered why I had to wake up so early. That breakfast he had been hounding me about. He’d called me again that evening, after he got home from the set very late on Wednesday, and said that he’d be driving back to New York on Friday. I had done my best to convince him I didn’t hold him to that promise about the breakfast. I had even tried to imply that he wasn’t obligated to hold onto anything about me anymore. I would have been just fine with the Twitter thing. But he either he was too stubborn to admit it, or too oblivious to hear it. So, a lengthy phone conversation later I had to admit my defeat and agree to meet him for breakfast on that particular Saturday morning. I had already made a mental list on places that were open at that hour and where we could get something to go.
I was nervous a certain extend, and not even sure why was that. I felt so contradicted about the whole thing that it was driving me up to the wall. I didn’t want to see him, and yet, I actually did not feel frightened like a little bunny rabbit in the middle of a road, and maybe even slightly eager to see him.
I sat up, tossing the warm blanket off of me groaning in objection and slid my feet down over the edge of the bed and onto the hard wood floor of my bedroom. The planks were warm to touch and I curled my toes for a while before I actually got up, just to feel the soft and warmth of the wood under them. My palms rested on either side of my thighs as I sighed deep my eyes closed and stretched my neck. I opened them and looked down at the floor and just sat there for a good while.
I knew I was more or less stalling, and I had to get up so I wouldn’t be late, I didn’t want to get into another long tirade about what was or wasn’t wrong with a breakfast among friends. I hurried into the bathroom, and slid my pajama bottoms and white top off, and decided to take a quick shower before going.
After the shower, I came about with the dilemma concerning the wardrobe. I went with a blue dress, my trusty brown leather boots and my leather jacket. I made a ponytail out of my unruly hair and dabbed some powder on my face, because why bother to do much more. Glancing at the clock it was already 7:05 am, and I knew I had to hurry. I ran to my backpack that I had already packed last night and quickly threw it over my shoulder, and then grabbing my keys I ran to the door.
* * *
I took me about 5 minutes to walk from my place to the corner of Hester and Baxter where I stopped and waited by the green mailbox that sat near the crossing. He wasn’t there yet, but I figured I was a bit early and succumbed to observe the people rushing past me and driving in their early morning rush to work. The street was pretty quiet unlike the street where I lived as it gave off more of a promenade feeling than an actually busy street.
I was so immersed in my own thoughts and looking at the people walking by that I didn’t hear him come to me. Like a complete cliché, I jumped nearly out of my skin, and shrieked out loud when I felt a hand gently touching my shoulder.
“Jesus! It’s just me,” I heard that husky voice, when I turned around and saw him standing in front of me now, wearing his Ray-Bans.
“Y-You s-scared the daylights out of m-me,” I whispered, holding onto my chest, like I’d had a heart attack. My knees felt like they were cooked spaghetti and I placed my left hand onto the mailbox to regain my composure.
“I’m sorry, I thought you’d figure it out,” he replied, “Are you alright?”
“I - - I’m f-fine,” I stammered, more than usual, and bit my lip. He didn’t seem to believe me, staring at me curiously, so I forced myself to stand up straight, even though I still felt like I was going to pass out.
“I’m f-fine,” I said with a halfhearted peppy voice that barely was just that.
“So, where do you want me to take you?” he asked, then, winking, “Breakfast is on my dime.”
“A-Anywhere is f-fine,” I whispered, not looking up at him, but glancing just a little towards his general direction. I wasn’t that picky with food, or drinks.
“You didn’t decide on anything? I thought I was just tagging along for company and payment,” he chuckled, spreading his arms and shrugging his shoulders and looking damn well pleased with himself after making such a comment.
“W-We can find a hot dog stand,” I offered, pointing down the street where I knew was a pretty decent hot dog stand, though it was doubtful if it was open at this hour.
“Okay, that’s just ridiculous, Sweetheart,” he shook his head, and brought his arm quickly to my waist guiding me to turn around. I slinked away from his hand, and he let it slide, obviously same thought coursing through his mind. Neither he nor I were ready to be plastered on any gossip bog, news site or magazine with the speculative heading about a female friend that may or may not be his girlfriend. He kept that distance between us as we walked and he kept his hands in his pockets. We were just two people walking towards the same direction.
We took our time, walking slowly and even browsing some display windows on our way. I didn’t talk much, but apparently that didn’t bother him. We had walked about fifteen minutes, and I had already lost my sense of direction having paid no attention to the world around us two, when he reached out and took a gentle hold of my wrist and pulled me inside the Cup & Saucer diner.
We walked to a table by the window near the back, and I couldn’t help but think if this was a conscious decision; he might not actually want to be seen around town with anyone. Breakfast could be so easily misinterpreted anyways. I already saw the possible headlines and shuddered out of disgust.
“What would you like to have?” his voice pulled me back to the reality and I wondered if I was actually hungry or not; I could have gone with just the coffee.
I told him I’d like a small breakfast plate and a cup of coffee with milk and sugar. He nodded, and waved the waitress over to our table. I watched carefully if she would recognize him, but she either didn’t or showed no emotion to it what so ever.
His order was almost the same as mine, but coffee black and the breakfast plate, large.
Again I was quiet and just observed as he toyed with his cell phone, thinking that it was probably stupid to have asked me to go for a breakfast. I felt like I had to say something.
“I told y-you didn’t owe m-me anything. We could have just bought some coffee,” I whispered, trying to amend the situation.
“I promised you a breakfast,” he insisted.
“I also to-told you - - that…,” I stammered, blushed and fell silent. He looked at me frowning, “Told me what?”
“That I wasn’t v-very g-good company,” I hiccupped, dutifully answering. I had to get it out in the open, because all of this - - was just killing me.
He looked at me, blinked and he actually looked a little hurt. He was about to say something when the waitress came over to the table and poured us coffee, she then walked away and he looked at his coffee mug, slowly twirling it in his hands.
“So, you - - don’t want to be friends, is that it?” he asked, looking down at the small frothy bubbles on the surface of his steaming hot, black coffee.
I gaped at him, feeling cold shivers, “Oh, no, I do,” I said hastily, “But I don’t see why you would.”
Again the conversation halted when the smiling waitress – Kirsten, according to the name tag – walked over to the table and placed two breakfast plates in front of us.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, tossing the ball right back into my court.
“Because…,” I started to say but there wasn’t really anything I could say that didn’t sound incredibly stupid when said out loud.
“Here’s an offer,” he said, reaching over the untouched breakfast plate, sliding his hand in mine, “Do you have any plans tonight?”
“N-No.”
“Good, then you can come with me to a party,” he said, winking, “You’ll get to meet some of my friends, and then you can tell me if and why I would want you as my friend. I don’t care that you’re shy, I’m shy. I don’t care that you can’t wear a seatbelt, I prefer to ride a bike anyways, and on the show I can do it without a helmet,” he explained, chuckling.
“You spoke to me like to a friend on Twitter. That’s why I followed you, that’s why I started to interact with you, and I really liked those songs. And, I can’t wait to hear what ever it is that you got under works.”
I stared at him, unable to answer, and tried to swallow back the lump I seemed to have in my throat. I felt like a slippery weasel, a rotten banana peel on the sidewalk, big pile of cow crap for trying to categorize him under the label of every man that ever wanted to get into every woman’s pants.
“Oh,” I mumbled, reaching for a fork and ducked my head. I cursed inwardly that I had put on a ponytail, and now my hair wasn’t falling down to cover my face.
He smiled, and took up his own fork, sticking it into the eggs on the plate.
“So, that party, what is it about?” I asked, not looking up at him, but pretending that I was in a heated battle with my bacon.
“Just some friends getting together. I can come pick you up at 8 pm, completely casual fun with bunch of crazy people,” he answered. He sounded calm but he looked like he had just won in the Olympics, received an Oscar and received the Pulitzer Prize and National Geographic’s Gold Medal Award for Photography all in one day.