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seenoversundown · 4 months

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The Caravel Tavern Series : Prologue

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, sibling banter, fluff/wholesome/good vibes.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The opening of Caravel Tavern was a dream come true for Jake. With the help of his best friends and brothers, naturally. In a small city in New England, it's rare to come across new faces. (or even run into some from the past)

A 4 Book interconnected series where they find love in the most unexpected ways. The bar was Jake's dream, but somehow is helping everybody else's dreams come true as well.

Rom-Com • Enemies To Lovers • Love At First Sight • Rekindled High School Sweethearts • Workplace Romance • AU - Boys x OCs

Night Moves - Bob Seger “When you just don't seem to have as much to lose Strange how the night moves With autumn closin' in”

Two Days until Open

Flipping the heavy lock and hearing the door chime has become my favorite way to start my day. After six long months of fixing up this place, it’s only days from officially opening. I’ve spent countless hours cleaning it up, with the help of my brothers, obviously. But it has come together and finally feels like mine.

“Goodmoooooorning!” Josh sings from across the room.

“Good Morrow!” I can’t help the slight accent that comes along with it.

Josh has been helping me decorate, thrift, and create things to match the aesthetic here. Deciding to develop a piratical vibe with a touch of retro themes felt right. We’ve spent hours finding the perfect pieces to hang, and thankfully, Josh has a good eye for all that. Red neon signs adorned the walls, with my favorite “Sinners Welcome” sign hanging behind the bar.

“I think we are getting close to finishing with the decor,” Josh says, turning to make eye contact with me.

“If you’re happy with it, then I’m happy with it,” I said, smiling back at him. “Just let me know what I can do to help. Otherwise, I’ll be organizing until the cows come home.”

The door chimes ringing as Sam, our younger brother, walks through the door, Daniel quickly following behind.

Daniel has practically been part of our family since we were kids, so he is treated like a brother. He and Sam went to school together and instantly attached at the hip, so he was at our house often throughout the years. When the time came, he chose not to go away for college, and I helped him get a job with me at the Shipyard. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a glamorous job, but it’s one of the better-paying options— at least it wasn’t a factory.

“Okay, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, we come bearing gifts, and by that, I mean, I hope you like these coffees,” Sam announces as he makes his way to the bar, “black– because I texted both of you and neither replied, so it’s your fault.”

“Some of us have jobs, Sam,” I said back.

Josh pulls out his phone, and I can see him click around for a second, “Oh yeah, there it is.”

Sam abruptly set the coffee on the bar in front of us with a shit-eating grin.

“Mental note, keep coffee creamer,” Josh mumbles and Sam holds a bag out to him before taking a sip.

“I didn’t forget your caramel cold foam whipped cream bullshit that you put in your coffee.”

Josh’s face lights up at the sight, “Wow, you do care about me,” putting on the dramatics per usual, “Also– I better not be Tweedle Dum.”

Sam let out a sinister laugh with an exaggerated shrug, “Guess we’ll never know!”

Since Sam got home from college, he’s been helping Josh and myself get everything done for the bar. Often, he’s reluctant or tries to make it seem that way. I can tell that he likes to be a part of everything. He’s been offering to take pictures of the bar. We have all the beer available, so we can post them on our Instagram, which I’m glad he understands is part of the business because I do not.

“Thank you, Samuel,” I say. “Lucky for you, I always take my coffee black.”

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“I think if I have to look at another beer can today,” Sam starts, “I’ll lose my mind completely.”

I giggle as I continue to track what we have in stock, “The worst is almost over, bud.”

I’m sure opening the week of Thanksgiving seems like a terrible concept, and, to be frank- it’s overwhelming. I hope the six months of bickering with everybody will prove it was worth it.

“Hey, boss,” Daniel starts, “is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

I’m not exactly proud of how much he startled me. I should be more used to how quiet he is by now, but I don’t think I’ll ever be.

“Jesus Christ,” I stop to process the question. “No, buddy, you can go home. It’s getting late, and we all probably could stand to get some rest before actually opening.”

With no hesitation, I hear Sam ask from the other room, “Does that include me also?”

“Yes, go home!” I shout over to him.

The door chime rings suddenly, causing Josh and me to laugh, walking over to find whatever he is working on. Carefully tapping the frame to ensure it’s centered on the nail, he looks incredibly focused.

“We can also be done for the night,” I tell him, putting my arm around his shoulders.

“Well, even better news, that was the last thing I needed to hang.” He says.

“You’ve outdone yourself, really.” I compliment him.

Patting my hand a few times, he tells me, “Did it up just right, and it’s all for you, brother.”

We stare at each other silently for a second.

“I’m just elated to see you finally going for your dreams.”

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Opening Night

The room glows in red from the neon signs we’ve hung, making everything feel real suddenly as I look at the locked door. We decided to open a little later in the day so the ambiance would be there. Also, who opens a bar on their first day at noon?

“How are you feelin’?” Daniel asked, squeezing my shoulder to wake me up from my nervous state.

“I’m not well.”

He laughs at my response. “It’s going to be great, Jake.”

I spent a moment trying to crack my knuckles before letting out the breath I had been holding. Listening to the quiet, jazzy riff that Sam is playing on the piano, tucked into the corner.

“You think so?” turning to him for a bit of reassurance.

“Absolutely. I think you’re onto something great, buddy,” he tells me.

My hands shake as I turn the jukebox on for the first official time, hearing the music start playing throughout the bar; we all look at each other for a second with smiles plastered across all our faces.

“Okay, it’s time,” I say as I turn the deadbolt. Seeing Josh pull the little chain on the ‘Open’ sign in the window makes my heart thump even louder.

The moment feels like slow motion as the door opens, and it isn’t one of the four of us who have been working here. I had hardly taken two steps back when the chime went off.

“Oh, sweetheart,” my mom gasps, stepping over the threshold, “This is wonderful.”

She immediately pulls me into a hug; all my nerves disappeared in a simple gesture.

“You did the damn thing, now didn’t ya bub?” Dad finally speaks up, giving me his signature side hug.

Before I knew it, Josh was already toting our parents around the bar, showing them all the decor he was proud of finding. A few customers who weren’t family had started to trickle in and sit at the bar.

“I actually made Jake meet me after work so he could help me pull this out of the dumpster,” Josh explains, louder than I wished he would. A collective “oooh” followed his statement, realizing that a handful of customers sitting close to the tour were also listening to him now.

“I painted this for him,” he continues, pointing at his framed artwork. He’s always been artistic; his imagination was incredible.

A miniature painting of Queen Anne’s Revenge sat in a gold frame. He’s always known that I love everything about pirates and their history. That was one of the first things he made for the bar when I told him I would officially buy it.

“That’s beautiful,” our mom gasped, leaning in to look at the little details even closer. “You really did that, Sunshine?!” Her voice raises excitedly, causing even more customers to glance over. Covering my mouth with my hand, I try to contain the laugh. Josh really did turn into Mom over the years, huh?

“You obviously know that Jake loves his pirates,”

“Oh, I sure do,” Mom says, “Remember when he would cry because his favorite pirate ship jammies needed to be washed?”

“Alright, alright. Mum, we don’t need to bring it up,” I chime in, “ again,” shaking my head at the trip down memory lane.

My dad finally snuck away from the Grand Tour, found a seat at the bar, and started to make conversation with a few people.

Glancing over to the door as it opens, Old Man Chuck strolls in, immediately making eye contact. He makes his way over to the corner stool at the bar.

Without asking, I slide a beer over to him.

“Ya did a hell of a job, kid. Place looks wicked good,” he mumbles.

“Thank you, Sir,” I matched his volume, “that one’s on me.” He gave me a subtle nod.

Old Man Chuck wasn’t a man of many words, and I respected that. He took a chance to sell me the bar; I’ll always be grateful. It probably helps that I have spent plenty of nights here when he still owned it, but where else am I supposed to go when my apartment is only two floors above?

As the night goes on, people start trickling in. Living in Portland for so long, you realize everyone knows everyone. Considering we were rapidly approaching Thanksgiving, many people were home for the holidays and in need of a break from their families.

I scan the bar to see if anybody hasn’t been tended to when I see Sam trying his hardest to converse with Chuck, and it’s not working. I walk over, touching his shoulder to get his attention.

“Sammy boy, can you just do a quick round and make sure everyone in the booths is good?” I quickly ask him.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

I watch as he makes his way to each table, collecting empty glasses and making occasional small talk with some of the groups.

“Everyone good over here?” I could hear him asking from behind the bar.

Even though he would complain daily about helping out, I could tell he didn’t mind doing this part as much. I could never say to him because it would go straight to his head, and I’d never hear the end, but I’m incredibly proud of him. Poor kid hasn’t worked a day in his life, and I’ve been putting him through it for the last few months.

“Oh, you sell things at the farmer’s market too?” he asks. “What’s your Instagram? I’ll follow you real quick!”

He’s always been comfortable talking to people; he usually seems carefree. I’ve always admired how sure of himself he is. I don’t know if it’s the amount of time he spends outside or that he got a few years away from us, but he’s gotten much more comfortable with himself.

“So.. do you have a boy-“

All of that to say, he has absolutely no game with the ladies.

“Hey bud, I told you to check on everyone,” I glance over at the girl and back at Sam, “not harass them.”

“Jake, what are you doing?” he spits out, “I’m so sorry- uhh”

I give him a quick double pat on the back and nod towards the bar.

“Are you kidding? I was trying to–” Sam continues as I stroll behind the bar. “Do you actually hate me?”

“You were not about to win her over, Sam,” I laugh. “She’s been making eyes at Daniel all night.”

I watch him deflate, putting the dirty glasses he brought back in the bin beside me.

“She doesn’t seem like your type anyway.”

“And you know what my type is?” He questions with a smug look on his face.

“She clearly wasn’t feisty enough to put up with your stubborn ass,” I quip back with a smile.

Unimpressed with my response, he goes back to mingling with customers. I find myself watching him as he makes small talk.

I probably shouldn’t step in on his attempts at flirting, but I could see that one imploding a little too quickly.

I don’t have the best of luck with women myself. I haven’t been on a date in God knows how long. The bar has kept me so busy I don’t even consider it. There are too many things I need to think about constantly, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to do that to someone.

Scanning the room, I notice a couple sitting together in one of the booths, his arm draped over her shoulders. The way she looks at him, gazing at him like he created the moon. Cradling his face with her tiny hand and pressing her lips to his cheek, a smile erupted across his face. Maybe one day.

“Come back to earth, honey,” followed by a few snaps, pull me out of my own world.

“I’m sorry, Linda,” I laugh, “I’m happy to see you here.”

Linda Graves, a sweet older lady, will quickly become one of our regulars. She runs a stand at our local farmer’s market and quickly became buddies with Sam. Her husband had recently passed when he first met her, but she was slowly making her way back out into the world. She’s an eccentric girl and, honestly, reminds me of Josh often.

“Where’s the big guy?” she asks, making her bright red glasses bounce up and down suggestively.

“You know he has a name–”

“I’m trying to play hard to get Jake. You’re supposed to be my wingman,” she whispers, gently smacking my arm, “Did I use that right?”

Throwing my head back with a laugh, I said, “Oh god, you’re right!”

Gesturing to Linda to give me one second, I find the man of her dreams, who is conveniently walking out of the bathroom as I turn into the hall.

“I have a lovely little lady who would like to see you,” choking back the laugh.

“Is it who I think it is?” Daniel asks, following me towards the bar, “Ahhh– there she is.”

He’s a good sport about most things, which is a refreshing outlook to have around, considering who my family is.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he starts, and I watch her melt into a puddle over him.

“Now, Lin, you know I’m gonna have to check your ID if you want to drink tonight.” He tells her with a little wink.

“Oh, Danny. You make me feel so young,” Linda tells him.

“What do you mean, sweetheart? You ARE young,”

“You cut it out now,” She giggles like a schoolgirl, “I look like a bag of bones. I think we both know I’m old.”

“You don’t look a day over 21.” He leans forward, holding himself on the bar. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making his arm muscles flex a little while he listens to her talk. I watch Linda taking little glances at his biceps while he talks.

I see the towel he has sitting over his shoulder starting to slip, and I lean forward to catch it as it falls. Tossing it back over his shoulder, he gives me a slight nod since he is mid-sentence.

“Good save,” Linda quips.

“Thank you, thank you,” I send her a warm smile.

I turn around immediately, bumping into Josh, his teeth on full display, giggling to himself. I haven’t seen him this happy in a while.

“Having fun?” I ask.

“Of course! I’m drunk!”

“I- uh- you’re what?” The panic lacing my voice is intense.

“Jake,” he says while grabbing my shoulders, “I’m kidding.”

Dropping my head back in relief that it was a joke, I’m disappointed I fell for it.

“What a little shit you are,” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.

“Who are you calling little? I’m five minutes older than you, bub.” He calls back over the music.

I roll my eyes and walk off. He’ll never let that die.

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“Excuse me.”

I turn around to find a petite older lady sitting at the bar.

“Oh, I’m sorry, how are you this evening?” I ask.

“Well, it’s much better now,” she batted her eyelashes at me.

“I’m so happy to hear,” I hold in a laugh, “What can I get you to drink?”

“Do you have any Moscato or Rieslings?

I smile as she asks, “Of course I do. Hang on”

Turning around to the fridge where we store our white wine, I giggle quietly.

Looks like I’ve gained my own Linda.

I grab a glass and turn back to her, setting the glass in front of her.

“I don’t know if you know this..” I pause, “I’m sorry, I never got your name?”

“Eleanor”

“Well, Eleanor, I save this specific bottle of Moscato for only the sweetest of girls,” I tell her as I pour the chilled wine into her glass.

“Oh, you stop,” She bashfully waves her hand toward me.

I glance at her with a smirk cemented across my face.

“Here you go, darling,” I slide the glass across the bar to her.

I give her a second to take a sip, and I can hear the quiet hum telling me that the wine is what she was hoping for.

“Actually,” I start, “I’d like to introduce you to someone. I think you would get along a little too well.”

I look over to Linda, who has taken a break from flirting with Daniel for a moment so he can get some work done. Waving her over, she grabs her bag and downs the rest of her drink before walking around to Miss Eleanor and me.

“Linda, this is Eleanor.” I introduce them and watch as they start to make small talk.

I found out that they both are into crafting and that Eleanor has been known to make the vases for the Flower Truck that goes to the Farmer’s Market. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Where are my boys?” Mom asks loudly.

Somehow, we all heard her over the chatter of the bar. Sam was already closest to her, so he wrapped her up in a hug first.

“I’m getting too old to be out this late, Buttercup,” she tells him.

“Ma, it’s only 10 PM,”

“I know, I know,” she says, patting his chest gently.

Reaching out for Josh, who’s coming in hot for a hug. Wrapping her tightly and rocking her back and forth.

“I love you,” Josh spoke with an inside voice. Something about our mom brought him down to earth.

“Oh, I love you so much, Sunshine,” Mom leans back, holding him at arm’s length, “You did a fantastic job decorating.”

“Thank you, Mama,” he mumbles, pulling her back for another hug.

“Alright, where’s my extra son?” She looks around for a moment before making eye contact with Daniel. She waves him down, watching the smile creep onto his face as he approaches her.

“Oh, my sweet little dumpling,” She has always had a soft spot for him, “I would never leave without a big hug from you.” She pulls him into a bear hug, rubbing his back a few times.

“Missed you so much,” He can’t help the giggle that comes from him at the pet name he gained as a child.

I stand there watching my brothers both say goodbye to our Dad, giving him quick hugs per usual. Dad was never one for the emotional situations, but he’s loosened up over the years. Looking over at me, he gestures for me to go to him.

“I know we’ll see you guys in the morning,” he starts, looking down at the floor with his hands tucked in his pockets, “But I just want you to know. I really am proud of you, kid.”

He looks back up at me, and his eyes look like they’re struggling to fight the emotion.

“Thank you,” Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around him.

He pats my back a few times before pulling away from the hug, “I can tell how much this place means to you, and I’m just so happy for you.”

He points behind me, letting out a small laugh.

I can hardly turn around before being bombarded by my mother.

“I’m glad you made it for the opening night,” I whisper.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss this,” She whispers back, pressing a few kisses to my cheek, “Can’t tell you enough how proud I am,”

I place a kiss on the side of her head, “I love you, Mum.”

I let Sam walk our parents out, returning to my place behind the bar. Happily watching Josh mingle with customers, it’s nice to see him existing in an environment that suits him. He just beams when he gets to be social and himself; Josh is much too loud and animated for his current job, and he needs something like this.

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“We’ll be back for sure!” rings through the bar as the last patrons walk out.

Pulling the doors shut and locking us in, I spin on my heels to face Josh, Sam, and Daniel. We all just stare at each other for a few seconds, even though it feels longer, and we cannot contain the laughter of disbelief. We did it… I did it.

Josh quickly closes the distance between us, pulling me into a hug. Being twins has created a very different bond; he’s my best friend. I don’t think I would have had the courage to purchase the bar if it hadn’t been for him in my ear reminding me that I could do it.

“I just want you to know that,” Josh starts, “I’m so proud of you, and I will always be here to help you, even if you don’t want to ask for it,” his voice shakes slightly.

“Thanks, bub. I love you,” squeezing Josh one more time. I hope he knows I’m always ready to do the same for him.

“I think this calls for celebration, don’t you?” Daniel asks, walking over to us holding beers.

“Cheers!” I holler, raising my beer for everyone to join. We all share a well-deserved celebratory moment after the last six months.

I grab a towel from behind the bar, walking back to one of the tables where Sam collects cans and glasses.

“Isn’t this what Dad used to play all the time in the car?” Sam asks while I’m wiping down the table. I listen a little more closely, realizing it’s absolutely one of our dad’s favorite songs.

“I was a little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds,”

We sing along as it plays, laughing hard as I whip Sam with the towel. He flips me off before walking away with a few glasses in his other hand.

We all slowly cleaned and serenaded each other, which made us giggle like a bunch of little kids.

“Workin’ on our night moves,”

Josh sings dramatically, holding his half-drunk beer like a microphone.

“Mmmm, in the sweet summertime”

This time, he leaned over to me so we could sing together, just like we used to as kids in the back seat.

“We were just young, restless, and bored,” Daniel sings as he walks from the back room.

Suddenly, the piano starts ringing through the bar, and we all find Sam playing along with the jukebox. I’ll let it slide since he was incredibly helpful today.

“And we'd steal away every chance we could

To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods.”

I finish gathering all the trash and tossing the bags near the back door. Josh still plugging away, cleaning all the glasses while serenading us all.

“And I waited on the thunder,” I sing, turning to point at Josh, knowing that he will absolutely know what to do next.

As expected, Josh belts out the line, “Waited on the thunder.” he always had a way of making the entire room laugh.

“When you just don't seem to have as much to lose.”

I prop open the back door to bring the trash out. A robust and crisp breeze envelopes me. It smells like it could snow.

“Strange how the night moves

With autumn closin' in”

I take a deep breath. The cold air is refreshing after a long night. After tossing the trash, I walk back inside to the sound of hysterical laughter. The three of them bent over in a fit of giggles as they all yelled the backing vocals.

“(Night moves) I remember, I remember, I remember, I remember.”

In the moment, I think to myself, If you can’t beat em, join em. I drape my arm over Josh’s shoulders as I shout with them. Giving him a double pat on his chest as we all laugh together.

“Alright, boys, let’s go home,” I tell them in my finest English accent.

I make my way over to the door, holding it open for them to file through. I took one last glance over to make sure we took care of everything.

“I remember, I remember,” I sing under my breath, flipping the lights off.

Caravel Tavern Master Post | Masterlist | Taglist

Sparrow Of The Dawn Chapter One

Book 1 of the series; Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust, @peaceloveunitygvf, @myleftsock,@imleavingyoufornewyork,@threadofstars,@mindastreamofcolours,@dont-go-home-without-me,@literal-dead-leaf,@lizzys-sunflower,@ourlovesdesire,@mackalah,@klarxtr, @edgingthedarkness, @i-love-gvf

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stageworthy · 6 years

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Julia Nish-Lapidus & James Wallis of Shakespeare BASH'd

JULIA NISH-LAPIDUS Julia is an actor, director, and producer, as well as a Co-Founder and Co-Artistic Director of Shakespeare BASH'd, where she has produced all of the company's productions. She has worked as the Managing Director of Common Boots Theatre and is now part of the team at The Theatre Centre. For Shakespeare BASH'd, Julia has directed The Comedy of Errors, and assistant directed The Changeling. She has also performed in many BASH'd productions, including The Taming of the Shrew, Romeo & Juliet, Macbeth, The Merry Wives of Windsor, Hamlet, Twelfth Night, and Volpone (staged reading).

Selected Additional Credits: Talk to Me Like the Rain and Let Me Listen and This Property is Condemned (Director, The Playwright Project), Modern Love (Co-Creator, Next Stage), As You Like It (Text Coach, Theatre By the Bay), and as an actor OVER, See Bob Run (Theatre Caravel), reasons to the pretty (The Labute Cycle), The Forest (Red One Theatre Collective), Dublin Carol (Fly on the Wall). Julia is a member of the Advisory Board for the Canadian Stage GYM program and a graduate of the joint acting program at UofT and Sheridan College.

JAMES WALLIS James has been a Shakespeare fan all his life, having performed with Resurgence Theatre Company as a teenager and again as a professional later in his career.

After graduating from Ryerson Theatre School, James jumped right into the big bad world of commercial work and film & television acting. He has been seen in a number of national commercials, including spots for Boston Pizza, Honda, and Expedia. Also, he has appeared on The Jon Dore Show, XIII: The Series and in a number of feature films including: And Now A Word From Our Sponsors and The Movie Out Here.

In 2010, James co-founded Shakespeare BASH’d with his wife, Julia. For the company, James has directed staged readings of Romeo and Juliet (2010), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (2011), Edward II (2015), and Volpone (2017), as well as the full productions of Romeo & Juliet, Love's Labour's Lost, Macbeth, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and Twelfth Night. He played Petruchio in the company's Best of Fringe winning production of The Taming of the Shrew in 2012 and the remount in 2015, and played Benedick in their sold-out production of Much Ado About Nothing in the 2013 Toronto Fringe. In addition, here are some of James’ selected theatre credits: A Midsummer Nights’ Dream, Shakespeare’s Magic, and The Taming of the Shrew (Theatre by the Bay), Danny, King of the Basement (Roseneath Theatre, US Tour), Sleeping Beauty (Sudbury Theatre Centre), Paradise by the River (Shadowpath Theatre).

James just completed his second season at the Stratford Festival as part of the Michael Langham Workshop for Classical Directing. There he has assistant directed Macbeth, Bunny, and Romeo and Juliet.

Shakespeare BASH'd presents Richard III by William Shakespeare

February 6-11, 2018 at the Monarch Tavern (12 Clinton St)

Shakespeare's epic drama about a powerful villain manipulating his way to the crown is given a barroom staging by Shakespeare BASH'd. You don't want to miss this bare-bones, visceral, and all too relevant production.

Tickets on sale now at www.shakespearebashd.com $20 online $25 at the door (pending availability)

SHOWTIMES: Tuesday, February 6 - 7:30pm Wednesday, February 7 - 7:30pm Thursday, February 8 - 7:30pm Friday, February 9 - 7:30pm Saturday, February 10 - 2:00pm Saturday, February 10 - 7:30pm Sunday, February 11 - 2:00pm

Directed by Julia Nish-Lapidus

Featuring: Cosette Derome, Jade Douris, Jennifer Dzialoszynski, Suzette McCanny, Shalyn McFaul, Drew O’Hara, Trevor Pease, Catherine Rainville, James Wallis, Kelly Wong, Joseph Zita

Associate Director: Megan Miles Stage Manager: Christopher Brackett Fight Director: Nate Bitton Movement Coach: Brad Cook Marketing Design: Kyle Purcell

Website: www.shakespearebashd.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ShakespeareBASHd/ Twitter: @ShakesBASHd Instagram: @ShakesBASHd

Stageworthy: http://www.stageworthypodcast.com Twitter @stageworthyPod Facebook: http://facebook.com/stageworthyPod

Check out this episode!

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seenoversundown · 4 months

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Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 3

Sam x Willa (Fem OC) Warnings: Cursing and some light bickering, otherwise a lot of bad luck.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit lighter on the word count, but take it as the calm before the storm 😉 (next week may or may not be a long one)

Boston - Augustana "I think I'll go to Boston, I think I'll start a new life I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather"

My blaring alarm clock jolts me from my sleep. It should be illegal to need to be awake at 4:30 a.m.; even Penelope lets out a little “boof” in protest. I rub my knuckles across my lids, trying to wipe away the sleep.

“You and me both, Penny girl.” I whisper into her fur, gently petting her face, “Rest a little longer, and then you get to go see Uncle Daniel.” Alas, I have a train to catch. I can't take the chance of driving Edith all the way to Boston. I don't even think she’d make it to Portsmouth at this rate.

Lethargy is so heavy in my bones as I drag my body to the shower. The scalding water helps to wake me up, but not enough. God, I need coffee. Regret fills me as soon as the water is off and the cold air attacks me once again.

After I quickly get dressed, I hustle through the rest of my morning routine, trying to ensure I stay on time. Finally, I wrap my scarf around my neck and knot it before slipping on my coat. “Okay, headphones, bag, camera, keys,” I mumble out loud, mentally checking things off my list. “Time.” 5:02am. At least I’m on time, calling out “Penelopeeee” in a sing-song tone. She comes running from around the corner, jumping up on me. “Woahh, down, girl.” I hook her leash onto her collar and lead her out the door, closing and locking it behind me.

It's only a short walk to Daniel’s apartment, and the morning air bites at my face. I pull my scarf up a little higher to cover the lower half of my face. My breath heats the fabric, a small salvation. Piles of snow where it had been plowed into snow banks still present, the sun not yet strong enough to melt it this time of year. Let alone this time of day. Penelope stops to sniff just about every flower she comes across, delaying my trip.

I march up the brick steps, and the porch light flicks on, allowing me better vision. The sun won’t make an appearance for another hour or so. I wrap my knuckles against the wooden door a few times before Daniel opens it. The sight of him causing me to chuckle.

“Good morning, sunshine.” giving him a beaming smile. If looks could kill, I would definitely be dead. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, fuzzy socks on his feet, no shirt on, and curls in complete disarray. He shivers when the breeze crosses the entryway.

“Of course, this is the one time you’re actually on time,” he whines. “Did you honestly have to leave so early?”

“Unfortunately for us both, Daniel, yes. There was only one train into Boston that would get me there on time, and I can’t be late for this. Miss Penny has already gone to the bathroom, so that should give you a few hours at least.” I hand him her leash and she enters the house. “As much as I would love to stay and chit-chat..” trailing off as I turn to head back the way I came.

“Come on, Penny girl, at least we get to have a cuddle. We’ll get out of Daddy’s hair so he can join the world of the employed.”

“Very funny, Asshole,” I call over my shoulder, flipping him off.

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If I was smart, I would have started Edith before I left to drop off Penny, giving her time to warm up and the frost to melt off the windshield; apparently, I have chosen the path of idiot this morning. I sit in the cab, turning the key repeatedly, and she won’t start. Panic rises in my chest, listening to the sound of the engine refusing to turn over.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I grunt out, “not today, not today.” I pause and take a deep breath, exhaling through my nose, creating a cloud in the chilly air. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” I turn the key once more, and her engine roars to life. Breathing a sigh of relief, I rest my head against the steering wheel, “oh, thank god.”

I speed off toward the train station, not wishing to waste any more time.

When I arrive, the train is already stopped, and boarding. “Oh fuck” I breathe out. Grabbing my bag and rushing to the platform, I nearly slip on a patch of ice before I make it. But I do make it. Just before the crew member shuts the doors. I breathe out a sigh of relief for the second time and find a seat in the back of the economy car I paid for, a double seat. The closer we get to the city, the busier it will get, and I don't want to have to worry about sitting near a bunch of passengers.

Jesus Christ that was cutting it too close. I wait for the train to start moving before I pull out my AirPods and put them in my ears. I scroll through my playlists looking for the right thing for this trip. Finally settling on a song, I click play. The song sounding muffled when I realize that it’s playing from my phone, shit. I turn the volume down as quickly as possible, trying to keep my eyes on my phone as I feel everyone around me look over. What is in the air today? Letting out a sigh as I pull my AirPods back out and place them back into their case. I drop my head back against the seat, close my eyes, and just listen to the sound of the train moving.

I jolt myself awake with a small gasp. Please tell me they didn’t leave me on the train, and now I’m in Canada or something. I tap on my phone, 7:55 a.m., Thank GOD. Only a few more minutes and the train is slowing into the station.

I finally make it off the train, and I’m trying to hustle through the station until I see a Dunkin sign glowing at me. My stomach grumbles as I look at it; I can grab something.. I’ll definitely make it still.

“Can I get a medium hot caramel swirl latte with oat milk and the bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.. But no bacon, please?” Met with a simple ‘mhm’ from the cashier. I pull out my phone to pay, and seeing 8:10 a.m., my stomach feels nervous again.

It only takes a couple minutes before my name is called. I grab everything and practically run through the station to find the exit. I finally make it outside and check my maps to see where I’m going, grateful that it’s not too far from here. I slide my phone back into my pocket; I only need to walk a few streets down. I carefully pull the sandwich out of the bag, excited to eat something after the morning that i’ve had. Fuck me; I see the fleshy piece of bacon sticking out as soon as I peel the wrapper away from the bagel. I stare at it for a minute, trying to decide if it’s worth the hassle of pulling the bacon out. Deciding against it, god forbid it makes my stomach feel worse while I’m here, I toss the sandwich at the next trash can I pass and take a huge gulp of my latte, hoping it fills my stomach a little. Thankfully, my drink is perfect, and at this point, I’m going to take whatever win I can get. For the love of everything holy, I need the rest of today to go smoothly.

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The building is easy enough to find. I thank the lucky stars that at least one part of this journey wasn't difficult. I open the heavy metal door and head up the steps to the main floor toward the elevator. A plaque sits between the two elevators above the recall buttons. “Boston Globe - Floor 4 Suite 213.” I take a deep breath and press the arrow pointing up. I can feel the nerves in my belly, like butterflies buzzing around. Little wings flapping, sending gentle ripples of unease through me. I can’t mess this up. I have to make a good first impression. Working in conjunction with two major newspapers in different states is a big opportunity. It would put my name in the minds of people who could help me break into this job market. One I’ve been trying to work my way into since I graduated. This has to be it. The elevator dings, and my heart skips a beat, setting my nerves on edge even further.

Once the elevator arrives on the 4th floor, I step out looking for the closest suite number to gain my sense of direction. I solidify my bearings and head toward the right. A few doors down is 213. I open the door and the first person I see is a petite blonde woman. I scan the room; everyone is staring at me. Oh, this feels awkward.

“Hi, Can I help you?” her voice is high like I expected, but much quieter.

“Uhm, I’m looking for James Boucher with the Boston Globe?” My eyes dart back and forth between her and the rest of the people still looking at me. I wring my hands together, trying to satisfy my uneasiness.

“Oh, Jimmy is down the hall. They moved his office, and it hasn't been updated downstairs yet.” Just another thing to go wrong this morning, naturally. She walks over to me, places her hand on my arm, and points me down the hall. “It's suite 222. Also Call him Jim, not James and it's ‘bou-shay’ not ‘bou-sher’. He’ll like you 10 times more if you can get his name right. You’re gunna do great.” She says sweetly, squeezing my arm. “Good luck!”

“Thank you”

I walk down the hallway, pulling my phone from my pocket and double-checking the time. Still early. Thank god. Knocking on the door and twisting the handle ,I greet the front desk girl with a wave. A pretty brunette smiles back at me. Does everyone who works here have to be pretty?

“Hi, I’m here to meet with Jim Boucher. Am I in the right place?” I say nervously.

“You sure are, sweetheart.” Her southern drawl makes her that much more attractive to me. “What’s your name? I’ll get ya checked in.”

“Samuel Kiszka.” I lean against the counter, glancing down at her nameplate. She clicks a few buttons on her computer and then rises from her chair.

“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.” She extends her arm pointing us in the right direction.

“Sam is fine. Daisy is a very pretty name, by the way. Like the flower?” I ask, smiling gently at her. A blush forms on her cheeks. She drops her head a bit, I can no longer see her dazzling blue eyes. She’s much shorter than I am, even in her heels. I shorten my stride so she doesn’t have to work so hard to keep up.

“Thank you. I was named after my grandma, and she was named after the flower. Mamaw Daisy was the sweetest, just like her pie. Oh, she made the best apple pie I’ve ever had.” She looks up at me then, eyes bright and hands clasped together.

“I’ve been trying to replicate her recipe and I think I have it close. Uh, just this way.” She instructs us to take a left; the windows on the right cover the wall nearly floor to ceiling.

“Well, maybe I can try a slice sometime.”

She stops then and looks up at me. “Uhm, this is it,” pointing to the door.

“Thank you for the escort, Miss Daisy. I surely would have gotten lost without you.” She giggles and opens the door. The room is smaller than I anticipated. A few tables are set up with chairs. There are already a handful of people here.

“Hi, Mr. Boucher. This is Sam Kiszka. He’s here with the Portland Press Harold, from Maine.”

“Thank you, Miss Thompson, that will be all.” He waves his hand, dismissively. Her face drops a bit in disappointment. Before she closes the door, her eyes find mine with a small smile, which I match.

He doesn’t acknowledge me at all. His eyes never rise from his folder. Am I supposed to stand here or take a seat? No, I should definitely introduce myself.. Right? First impressions and all.

I gently clear my throat. “Sir?” Once again, he doesn’t move. I wait. When he finally finishes what he’s reading he looks at me.

“Sam Kiszka, Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, which he takes, apprehensively. He’s a man of few words from what I can tell, so I do my best to convey my character through a strong handshake. He nods at me and juts his head toward a table, motioning for me to take a seat. I’ll take that as a win.

As soon as I take my seat, a familiar face enters. Her short, brown bob was perfectly tucked behind one ear. Paired with her petite stature, it gave her a bit of an elf-like appearance. She played with the proportions of her outfit to look taller, wearing khaki-colored high-waisted slacks for height along with brown heeled boots, and a tan button-up sweater tucked in. A delicate blue pattern across the top accentuates her chest and gold necklaces worn in tiers to finish it off. She looked beautiful. Why is she here?

I watch her as she introduces herself to Jim, who doesn’t really glance at her either, which makes me feel a bit better before she takes a seat on the opposite side of the room. At least it’s not just me. Daisy catches my vision, and I can tell she’s taken notice of me staring at.. Her. I offer her another small smile before I watch her close the door and disappear once more.

“Alright,” Mr. Boucher announces, grabbing everyone’s attention. “As you all know, since you signed up for it, The Boston Globe is partnering with a few newspapers in New England. We want to run a feature on what makes each state in New England special. That’s where you all come in. There are 2 candidates from each state. That’s your partner for this project, so get used to them.”

Oh god. This experience is about to go from amazing to horrific for her as soon as she finds out I'm here.

“Presentations will be on Monday, so you have a few days to do what you gotta do. We’re working with the San Francisco Chronicle as well, which means that the 3 teams that best represent their state will be flying out there Tuesday. So, if you have plans next week, cancel them.”

Looks like Jake will have to find someone else to help cover the bar this week.

“Ah shit, let me take attendance.” He grumbles, searching for the correct paper on his desk. “Here we go, let’s start from the top with Maine - Willa Clarke?” my eyes immediately shoot over to her. Willa is a pretty name. It suits her.

“Here, sir,” she raises her hand. She tilts her head to the side in anticipation. The red undertones of her hair catch the light when she moves. Okay, Sam? Calm down.

“Great,” glancing down at his paper again. “Willa, your partner is.. Samuel Kiszka?”

Clearing my throat, “Uh Here.” I raise my hand. Her eyes finally meet mine, and immediately narrow.

Annnnd, there it is.

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A few hours and a lot of paperwork later and I’m sitting opposite Willa at a table in the cafe downstairs. She’s been glaring at me over the top of her latte for 10 minutes without saying a single word to me. Slowly sipping. Intently glaring. Not speaking.

I wait.

And then give in.

“Are you stalking me or something?” narrowing my eyes back at her.

“Excuse me?” Her incredulous look is not surprising.

“I mean, I go to the farmers market and you’re there. Poking me. I go to my brother’s bar and you’re there. Then I show up here and.. Oh yeah.. You’re here. Logical explanation would lead me to believe that you’re stalking me.” Curiosity becomes me as I wait for her answer.

“I feel like you’re failing to take into consideration a key piece of information here, Salmonella,” She says, piquing my interest. I debate if I should be offended by her use of a nickname or not and settle on the latter. Why let her get under my skin when I can get under hers?

“Aw yeah? What’s that, darling?”

“Okay.. ew.” disgust paints her face as she waves her hand out in front of her. “You speak as if you’re interesting enough to stalk.”

“Ah, such a blow to my ego,” Rolling my eyes dramatically. “Someone who spends her time jabbing strangers and yelling at them when they try to help her doesn’t think I’m interesting. Whatever will I do?” She scoffs loudly and crosses her arms, turning to face her body to the side toward the windows. “I should just roll over and cease to exist right now.”

“Help me? How have you tried to help me?” She asks in disbelief. Of course, she wouldn’t view my actions on Saturday as helpful. Or nice or kind in any capacity. I swear she's incapable of thinking I’m nice.

“When I told you not to bother with Chad Von Doucher-son, which you yelled at me for. Or when I offered you a drink on the house when he ditched you. A peace offering, again which you yelled at me for.”

She huffs. “What about you then?” Raising her eyebrows at me. “ Since we’re in all the same places or whatever. Are you stalking me?”

“Oh, I’m simply incapable of giving you that pleasure.”

A wicked laugh escapes her. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve said that to a woman. How about you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours?”

“Yes because a project in which we have to work together definitely calls for staying away from one another. Can you not pretend to tolerate me?”

“Must you ask so much of me?” She frowns intently, grabbing her purse and standing to push her chair underneath the table.

“When our careers ride on it, yes. Now play nice. No more school-yard insults.”

“Okay. Truce.. For now.. Samsquatch.”

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The rest of the day was filled with more paperwork, tours, and individual assignments, according to each home-based newspaper company. At the end of the day, knowing I have some time to kill before I have to catch my train, I stop by the front desk.

Daisy is sat with her head down looking over scheduling for the following week. I tap the counter with the pads of my fingers, the soft sounds calling for her attention. She greets me with that same wide smile. Yeah, she’s cute.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Daisy. And thank you for your help this morning,” I hold my hand out to her, and she places her dainty one gently in my palm.

“It was lovely to meet you too, Sam.” She giggles and a blush forms.

“I’ll see you next week for the presentation.” I bend down to place a kiss on her knuckles, causing her cheeks to redden even further. As I straighten I can hear ‘oh god’ behind me. I turn to see Willa standing there, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t waste your time, he’s insufferable.” She says to Daisy and storms off. I cannot believe she would do that. I know she isn’t exactly my biggest fan, but to try and cock-block me because she dislikes me is insane. I really haven’t done anything to her. How can someone you barely know have that strong of a vendetta against you?

I look back at Daisy, “Would you excuse me one moment.” I let out an awkward laugh. Before fully walking away, I stop, “Next week, pretty girl,” and give her a wink. When I leave she has a smile on her face. Successfully recovered.

I walk quickly through the hall down toward the elevator to catch up with Willa. Just as the doors start to close, I catch it and force it back open, boarding the elevator with her. Turning to her with my eyebrows raised and my arms crossed, I clear my throat.

“Can I help you?” Her eyes are locked in her phone.

“Just because you have shit luck with dates, doesn’t mean you have any right to try and ruin my chances at one.”

“Oh, please. You cannot subject her to that.”

“Subject her to what?”

“Sam, it’s actually less painful watching teenagers flirt. I’m begging you, if I’m going to have to witness your flirting through this whole experience, the least you could do is practice in the mirror a bit.” She sneers at me.

“Ya know,” I take a step closer to her until my chest is pressed against her shoulder, “I could always practice on you.” The slight intake of her breath almost goes unnoticed, almost.

“Oh god,” She lunges toward the button panel, repeatedly pressing the open door button. “Get me the hell out of hereeeee.”

Checkmate.

<- Chapter Two ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Chapter Four ->

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early.

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close.

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked.

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to.

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is.

Birdie.

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?”

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me.

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie.

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?”

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.”

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker.

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The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project.

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her?

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me.

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail.

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her.

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We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year.

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always.

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me.

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers.

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye.

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight.

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff.

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head.

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her.

“Mhmm.”

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly.

I smile wide, now looking down at her.

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out.

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us.

She pulls out her phone, tapping away.

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection.

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her.

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste.

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me.

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?”

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.”

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.”

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before.

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.”

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.”

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach.

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?”

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.”

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question.

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?”

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face.

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp.

“How can you possibly drink that?”

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.”

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids.

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch.

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all.

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over.

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches.

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search.

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable.

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on.

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink.

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small.

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs.

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud.

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film.

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips.

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’.

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Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together.

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner.

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.”

“Jeremy Allen White?”

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone.

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom.

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low.

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her.

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine.

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time.

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get.

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern.

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again.

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now.

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out.

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone.

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot.

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh.

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion.

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly.

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk.

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.”

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.”

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me.

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front.

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck.

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window.

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs.

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair.

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in.

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet.

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes.

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him.

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic.

The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one. He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?”

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?”

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth.

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more.

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes.

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip.

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table.

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?”

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing.

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.” I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.”

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff.

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch.

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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