Jaime Elizabeth Davies (finder) wrote in instorm, @ 2017-07-08 22:28:00 |
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She'd started out with friends on her blanket. She'd brought one of her big fall quilts out - the thin one that was easier to shake the sand off of - and laid it out on the beach above the water line but not up near the grass. So it was definitely sand. Someone had brought out a boom box that was playing the local station which would later be playing music to go along with the fireworks. Right now though it was just a mix of pop and rock and classic rock. Down toward the left was a bonfire, burning low, and given that it was only 7:30, the sun hadn't yet started to set. That was almost an hour off, but the fireworks would be starting shortly after that. Someone was grilling and handing out hot dogs and hamburgers, and a couple someones had kegs. There were various coolers on the beach as well - soda and juice for the kids, alcohol for the adults. She herself had planted a wine cooler in the sand beside her, though the bottle was nearly empty and she was feeling fairly chill. As the time rolled on by, she was content to watch the people, watch the waves, to listen to Jake's laughter somewhere up behind her. As evening drifted off toward dusk, she realized that her blanket-sharing friends were now on another blanket further to the right, with other friends. Well ... all right. It wasn't like she ever minded being alone. Standing to stretch, smoothing her skirt over her thighs, Jaime wandered over to get a beer before wandering back to her blanket. Given that they'd opted for beach rather than bleachers, she'd dressed appropriately - the skirt was really more of a beach coverup than a skirt-skirt, and she hadn't bothered to put anything on over her bikini top. It was warm enough and there was a nice breeze off the water that stirred the dissipating heat of the sand. She sipped her beer, and watched the fire further down the beach, letting her thoughts drift. She knew from Jake that Damon was supposed to show up, but she didn't think it'd matter much; he was probably going to find somewhere near Jake rather than by her but ... that was okay. Jake was his friend and she wasn't anyone even on his radar. As far as she knew, anyway. Besides, if he did sit up near Jake, she could pretend he was looking her way now and again, even if he never even glanced at her. One of these days, she thought, she might have to say something. One of these days, for sure. Drawing one leg up, she rested her cheek against her knee, her half-closed eyes on the fire, a contented smile on her lips. To no one’s surprise, the Diner had been busy that day. It had been filled with a constant stream of people off work on the 4th wanting to eat before rushing off to whatever holiday festivities they might have planned. Damon had come in at around 10:30 to prep for lunch and ended up not leaving until a quarter after seven. He was a person who didn’t mind when his workplace was busy, because it passed the time. Some people might not think being a cook at a diner was any great shakes as a job, but hell, he had a job. He was proud of that, given his background. He’d been planning to go to the fireworks after, and normally he might have gone directly from work… but he felt coated with a fine film of grease this evening. Home for a shower first it was. He knew Jake was expecting him to show, so he shot off a quick text as to the delay, hoping his friend wouldn’t make any smart comments about him cleaning up. They were grown-ass men, and he didn’t know why he felt self-conscious about that, but he did. Maybe it was the little bomb of knowledge Jake had dropped on him the other day about Jaime’s possible interest in him. Damon didn’t usually consider dating people, and he didn’t know that he was considering it now, but if he saw her, what would it hurt to talk to the girl? He didn’t tend to go for the girls like Jake’s sister, who spent a ton of time on their makeup and outfits and did their nails and gossiped. Glossy little pretty things who didn’t seem very substantial. Not that Jaime wasn’t pretty, but he’d never gotten the idea that she was that sort of woman. Off to the shower he went, and when he was done he changed into swim trunks, a t-shirt and flip flops, fully aware that everyone was going to be hanging around on the beach. Why get sand in actual pants and shoes? Damon was low maintenance, and he was out of his trailer again in fifteen minutes or less, driving to the beach area where the fireworks would be held and parking. He left his car unlocked and the keys hidden in a compartment in the rear passenger door. No pockets, and nobody would try to steal his beater of a car anyway. Once he was on the beach he quickly found Jake, because the guy had a laugh like no one else, and spent a few minutes talking to him and his friends. Their blanket was fairly packed and he wanted a beer, so he went off to find one. There was still a good supply of alcohol, so he took the opportunity to drink down one beer and take another to go wherever he ended up. It was almost full dark now, and he headed in the direction of the fire and then nearly stumbled over the edge of someone’s blanket. Not even on purpose, of which Jake would probably accuse him if he’d seen it, because Jaime was sitting there. “Hey,” he said, using one foot to straighten it out and looking mildly sheepish. Jaime glanced over at the sound of the voice, managing to open her eyes. “Hey,” she replied. It occurred to her in a sort of abstract way that if she’d had less alcohol in her, she would’ve been … well, weird around him. Like she was pretty sure she was being lately. Maybe not though. Maybe it was all in her head, and she spent entirely too much time mentally reviewing conversations that he’d barely given a thought to. Which was probably the case. Still, somehow the crush seemed safer than trying to move it past that. It was a limbo, sure, but it was a nice enough one. She saw him, talked to him, it was all casual, and later she went home and imagined how things could have gone differently. As it was though, she was buzzy enough that she wasn’t thinking about much other than how nice the night was, and looking forward to the fireworks. Him being here was … interesting, and she glanced around. Had he meant to come over here, or had he gotten lost? With it being darker and the fireworks soon to start, the beach had crowded up some. So, sure, he’d turned down the wrong row and wound up over here. Made sense. “How … are you?” she asked, sliding her foot across the blanket to unbend her knee, shifting her position so she was sitting up and turning a little so she could face him. Well, he was here; she may as well see if he felt like chatting. So she made a vague ‘help yourself’ sort of gesture in case he wanted to sit. She figured he had a blanket somewhere else with Jake or whomever, but it was just an offer in case he didn’t. When Jaime glanced around, Damon did too and happened to catch Jake’s eye. He lifted his eyebrows and then looked away, not wanting the dude to make him bust out laughing-- which Jake was very good at doing. “I’m hangin’ in there,” he said when asked how he was doing. “Had work all day, but I didn’t wanna miss the fireworks.” There were still too many dudes crowded onto Jake’s blanket, and he’d look awkward if he left while they were having a conversation. “Thanks,” he said to the tacit invitation to sit down and seated himself, propping his beer on his thigh. “How’re you?” he asked once he’d gotten himself situated. He might have been raised with no sense of manners or decorum, but he’d proven to be a reasonably fast learner. Some of it was only the negative reactions he’d gotten when he’d been younger to his rough around the edges manners and conversational style and some of it had come from growing up and learning how life worked and what was expected. He wasn’t a huge talker most of the time, but he could usually hold a conversation with no problems. She nodded slightly. She was actually probably a little more aware of his usual work schedule than a non-stalker might be, but she supposed if he'd noticed her semi-frequent presence it was just that ... she liked the food and it was near-ish to where she worked. She did try not to act like a stalker, but she usually only went if he was working. And she was very careful not to show up every time he was working because that was just ... well, obvious. And ridiculous. She thought about mentioning he didn't smell like a diner but that was weird, awkward, and implied she was smelling him. Which she could but he just smelled clean, and like him. At least she hadn't had enough to drink that her filter had slipped completely; another beer or so and it'd be gone and words would come out. Words she'd been so far successful at keeping mostly to herself. Except for that one instance of unfortunate timing when she was pretty sure Jake might've heard something. "Mmm," she replied to the question. "Content," she decided. "It's a nice night, it's festive, you're ... there's people here," she continued, glad it was probably dark enough the blush wasn't going to be super noticeable. They were far enough away from the fire she didn't think it was throwing light enough. She couldn't see his face well enough to see shades so she hoped the same proved true for her. "I have to work tomorrow but not until late," she continued, lifting one hand to rub absently at her cheeks before a faint frown curved her lips. "And stop by the barn after. I dunno how Rocket does with fireworks, so I should make sure he's okay." She figured he'd be all right, but sometimes even animals that seemed super solid were ... well, not, about certain things. "You doing anything after?" She imagined most people were heading home - it'd be late-ish on a week night and most of them had work tomorrow - but ... didn't hurt to ask, right? Damon had noticed that she frequented the diner, but he would have never attributed that to him being there. Even if he did say so himself, the Vale Diner had awesome food, and they had a ton of regulars. If he hadn’t worked there, he certainly would have been one. He took a long pull from his beer as he listened to her answer and then nodded. “It’s a great night,” he said. It had taken him well into his adult years to be able to really appreciate the subtleties of weather, be it good or bad, but he was definitely into being on the beach, listening to the water and feeling the wind ruffle his hair. “Very festive.” He didn’t really notice her slipping the word you’re into what she was saying, but then he’d never been one to grasp nuances quickly. “I don’t have any plans after this,” he said, unable to imagine what he’d be doing on a weeknight, really. He didn’t have to work early; he was on a closing shift the next day, but no one he knew had mentioned doing anything else. He smirked at her. “Have you found some wild party spot the rest of us don’t know about?” She nodded to his answers, turning her gaze over the water. The music drifting over had paused for the announcement that the fireworks would be starting soon, and that made her smile. She knew it was just color and gunpowder, essentially, but it was just nice to watch all the same. “No,” she laughed quietly to his question. “No … I didn’t figure anyone was getting up to much,” she continued. “Definitely not going to haunt a party. Figure if anyone’d know about wild party spots it … wouldn’t be me.” Not that she was antisocial, but she’d rather stay in with one person than stay out late with a bunch. Not that she didn’t go out - she’d head over to Jacksonville some weekends but that was pretty much for the exclusive purpose of clubbing and finding someone to spend the night with. No way was she going to engage in that sort of thing in town where rumors flew. She was less likely to be spotted miles away. “Besides, if I knew about a secret party spot, I’d make it exclusive. Only people I really wanted there.” Which sort of made her wonder who she’d really invite because she’d feel selfish if it was just people she liked if they had other people they’d like to be there so … probably not really that exclusive. Oh well. Rolling her bare shoulders, she took a little sip of her beer before she regarded him for a silent moment before turning her eyes back to the water. She really felt like she was bad at conversations, but she was also kind of content to just … sit quietly with him, too. Who needed to talk? "I guess it wouldn't be me, either," Damon said of knowing about wild party spots. He'd been too focused on surviving in his younger years to waste a lot of time partying; there'd been a living to make and a strong need to make sure he didn't turn out anything like the rest of his family: shiftless, lazy, useless. He also went out on occasion, maybe picked someone up at a bar, but as a rule he wasn't about that life. "Cassi, maybe," he added, smiling at the thought of his friend's younger sister. Anyone who'd ever spent much time with Damon got used to occasional silences. He'd known people who were so anxious about making conversation that they babbled, the words falling over each other, and people who were so aloof that they barely spoke at all. He fell somewhere in between. He could talk, but if there happened to be nothing to say for a short time, he was fine with it. He drank down the rest of his beer as they sat there waiting for the fireworks to start and carefully settled his can into the sand so no stray drops of beer would get on her quilt. That being done, he actually noticed the quilt on which he was sitting, brushing his fingers over the design. "This is nice," he said. She chuckled. "Probably. If not, she'd know someone who knew something," Jaime replied. She didn't think she could handle that kind of social life these days. Nothing against people, but she preferred select company - and her animals - to big crowds. Maybe she was getting prematurely old. For a moment, she misunderstood, and a pleased smile briefly tugged her lips before she realized he was talking about the quilt. Oh. "Bed Bath," she said with a slight smile. "It was on sale," she added which was utterly irrelevant but it was something to say to cover up her ... what? Disappointment? Sure, she'd go that way. Or embarrassment, even if it was only in her head. It wasn't like she'd said anything out loud. With the radio announcing the start of the fireworks, Jaime shifted to lean back on her hands so she could better see the sky. Eventually she figured she'd wind up just laying down entirely, but she was also moderately self-conscious about doing so with him nearby and her barely dressed. Still, she wasn't interested in putting a shirt on over her bikini - it was warm enough even with the breeze off the water. With the sound of the first rocket being fired, she smiled a little. At least there'd be distraction in the sky, and it was nice to be watching the fireworks with him, even if it wasn't with him. Damon tended to think that other people had a lot of family heirlooms; he’d wondered if maybe the quilt was something from her family. But on second thought, why would someone bring a quilt that was special to them out to the beach and get sand all over it? Sometimes he was surprised when he caught himself thinking that way. Maybe being over thirty meant that he was pondering settling down somewhere in his subconscious. Who knew? “Bed Bath,” he repeated. “Haven’t been there in a while.” Then he mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Wasn’t he a fabulous conversationalist tonight? It actually was nice sitting here with her as opposed to being squeezed onto Jake’s blanket with a bunch of dudes, but Damon wouldn’t have thought to say that out loud. Once the fireworks started, he kicked off his flip flops and glanced at the amount of room on the quilt and then decided to lie back, hands behind his head and knees propped up. Some of the people around them who had sufficient room on their blankets were doing that, and really it was nice to watch the fireworks that way, comfortable and relaxed. A quiet laugh crossed her lips. “I dunno, I can’t really see you in there at all,” she teased lightly. She guessed he had to buy sheets and towels same as anyone but for some reason Bed, Bath, and Beyond struck her as a more … housewife-y sort of store. She stopped in there occasionally when she wanted something nicer than what Walmart had to offer, but she didn’t do the brunt of her shopping in places like that. Shaking her head slightly, she glanced over to him and thought about … doing something. Making some sort of statement of interest, but she was stymied by her insecurity, and her self-doubt. Still, she reached out and lightly brushed the fingers of one hand over his shoulder before resettling her hand behind her hip, leaning her weight back on it again as she tipped her chin skyward to watch the bursts of colors. Most of the beach conversations had gone quiet, and someone had doused the bonfire, so all that she heard was the exclamations as each explosion lit the sky. In true Stormvale fashion, they weren’t simply sparks and waterfalls of color, but shapes and elaborate pinwheels. She imagined the finale was going to be as big and brilliant as it was every year, and she was looking forward to that. Eventually though, she did shift to lay down beside him. One arm draped over her middle, but the hand between them rested on the quilt, one finger idly tracing patterns on it. “They got some cool gadgets,” Damon said. When he’d taken over the trailer, he’d had to replace everything or move it from his old place, because he wasn’t about cooking or eating off of anything mice had shit in. Walmart was fine for most things, but once in a while he wanted something extra. When Jaime touched his shoulder, Damon looked over just in time to see her looking up at the fireworks illuminating the sky. He turned his attention back to them too, smiling a little. Guess Jake wasn’t lying. He hadn’t really thought his friend was, but maybe he hadn’t been paying attention before due to his belief that someone like Jaime would never be interested in him. The ambient light dimmed due to the bonfire being extinguished, and he devoted himself to watching the fireworks, idly noticing the shift in the quilt as Jaime lay down and got comfortable too. It felt like they were someplace else, a space in time where everything was chill. Damon enjoyed that sensation, letting everyday real life fall away once in a while. The night air was cooling around them. After several minutes of silence except for the fireworks exploding above them, he glanced in her direction and said, “Better than last year’s, you think?” She nodded thoughtfully. “That they do,” she agreed. “Most of it’s cheaper on Amazon though,” she murmured. While she wasn’t an obsessive price comparison shopper, unless she needed something immediately (or the next day), she’d usually order it online for less than the mall marked it up. Her eyes reflected the lights in the sky above them. “On par,” she said after a moment, watching something that looked like a reasonable mockup of an alien ship outlined in green and purple drift across the sky. “Wonder how they do it,” she murmured. “You ever watch the ones on TV even from like … Boston and New York and LA and stuff, and it’s never … anything like ours? Not nearly so elaborate. Wonder if they make them here or have some top secret underground fireworks lab they make them in that no one else can get any from.” Not that other places had horrible or puny displays - they were always nice - but nothing was so awe-inspiring as the works in their town. Damon wouldn’t know about that, because he didn’t generally order things online. He didn’t even have a computer, making do with his smartphone’s data plan when he needed to get online for whatever reason. Maybe one day he’d decide to get into that, but he hadn’t yet. “I usually end up watchin’ the New York ones on New Year’s Eve, if I’m home,” he said. “Or someplace there’s a TV.” Given the fact that he’d never dated much, he didn’t think he’d ever had a New Year’s Eve date, so he was either hanging out with friends or home. “Theirs are always big and flashy, but ours are better.” He wondered if it was one of those peculiar things happen that nobody can explain or understand deals. Why not something to make the fireworks exceptional? He considered most of the stuff that went on around here to be perks, not negatives. Not that he thought he’d ever know, but it was fun to speculate sometimes. She nodded. “We saw some up in Boston one year, live,” she murmured. “When I was younger. It still wasn’t … the same as these. Like ours here are on some other level of firework,” she murmured as she watched the display, listening to the music that went along with the lightshow. “We should go to New York some New Year’s,” she laughed softly. She didn’t really mean it, she didn’t think - crowds like that, of strangers, wasn’t usually her thing - but all the same the idea of it was sort of nice if one excepted the crowd bit. She was sure there were hotel room windows that they could see them from just fine, and be that much warmer. Which was a train of thought she didn’t really need to be exploring right now. “You want to go for a walk after?” She asked idly. “The parking lot’s going to be a zoo for half an hour anyway,” she murmured. “I’ve just seen ‘em on TV except for here,” was Damon’s comment. He’d never spent much time traveling; his childhood hadn’t included things like family vacations and once he’d become an adult he’d gone on a few short trips with friends, but nothing all that special. “It’d be cool to see New York sometime.” He figured her comment was more daydreaming out loud than anything. He didn’t mind crowds that much ordinarily, but being in that massive of a crowd didn’t sound terrific to him, either. He huffed out a sigh at the thought of the parking lot after the fireworks were over. “Took me half an hour to get out last year,” he said. “I should’ve walked.” He released one hand from behind his head to stretch his arm, put it back and then stretched the other one out. “Yeah, a walk would be nice. Let’s do that.” This seemed to be going well. It was probably the longest conversation he’d had with Jaime in a while; he didn’t have a problem with talking some more. Jaime nodded to his statement, because it would be cool to do that. Maybe some year. Seemed a shame to go somewhere else when fireworks happened here, too, especially if she wasn’t going to go down and do the whole crowd thing. Well … she’d see where things went. The year was only half over, after all. “I think about that every year. Walking instead of driving but … across town is far away,” she laughed. “And it seems to take longer if you get a ride with a bunch of people,” she murmured. “So it’s easier to kill some time and wait for the flood to slow down before … trying to get anywhere.” She nodded and tried not to read anything into his agreement. Because there was probably nothing to read. It was … killing time, simple as that. Content enough to lapse into silence, Jaime kept her eyes on the sky until the fireworks had concluded, until the announcer was back on the radio and the music was gone and all that was left was the wisps of smoke left drifting away, blown by the wind over the water. As the crowds around them started to get up and pack up, she sat up and reached for her shirt to pull it on. She figured she’d fold up the quilt and just … carry it. It wasn’t that bulky and while she doubted anyone would swipe it, why take the chance? “I’m a little closer, but it’d still be a long walk,” Damon said. Not that he couldn’t walk it, but why? Summertime + long walks equaled a sweaty and cranky Damon. In wintertime he definitely would have done it, because it didn’t get too cold for him, but not in July. He was thinking Jaime had the right idea in not rushing to get out, because why get aggravated about everyone jamming the parking lot exits at the same time? The grand finale of the fireworks was grand indeed, but then it always was. Somehow, the smell of the smoke was satisfying to him, and he breathed in deeply as he fully stretched, arms and legs extended, toes and fingers pointed, before sitting up and then standing to put his flip flops back on. People were milling around now, and he took a second to wave to Jake before turning to pick up his empty beer can since there was a trash can nearby. “Want me to take yours?” he asked, nodding to the spot where she’d left her empties. She giggled a little as she watched him stretch before she stood up and rolled her shoulders. Nodding to his question, she reached for the pair of bottles, taking a sip of the beer before handing both of them over. There was some beer left but it was a little warmer than she cared to drink it. While he was taking care of that, she set about shaking out and folding up the quilt until she could fit it comfortable under one arm. She didn’t have shoes on but she’d left them in the car; from where she stood, the less she had to catch sand in, the less she’d track to her car, and there was a little shower thing close to the cars she washed her feet off in. She didn’t like driving in bare feet, but she could walk just about anywhere that way. Something her father had shaken his head at more than a few times, but Jaime wasn’t all that concerned. Dirt washed off and so did germs or whatever else. “Which way?” She asked as she glanced up to him. There was a rocky cove area with tidepools and little alcoves to the left but a straight stretch of beach to the right that eventually met up with a wide stream that fed into the ocean. She didn’t much mind either way since it was just a walk but she was kind of curious all the same which way he’d pick. The idea of leaving the bottles where they lay wasn’t one Damon was okay with. He was so scrupulously neat that it irked him a little to see bottles further up the beach that others had left, but not so much so that he had to go retrieve them. He simply shook his head slightly and headed back to where Jaime was folding up her quilt. When she asked him which way he wanted to go, he paused for a moment to consider the question. Really, for him it was an easy answer. “That way,” he said, gesturing to the right and then beginning to walk. He figured if she’d wanted to choose the way herself, she wouldn’t have asked him and she’d be fine with what he picked. The first time he’d ever seen the ocean, he’d been captivated, and that remained to this day. The roar of it, the power of the waves, the sense of being small in a vast universe was never more profound than when he stood in front of it. A little smile played briefly across her lips before she nodded to his choice. Not that she supposed he saw since he was already walking. Tucking the quilt up under one arm, she followed along after him, weaving through the departing groups until they were closer to the waterline and free of the worst of it. Drifting toward the water, she strolled along the wet sand, close enough to the tideline that the incoming waves could wash against her feet. She thought if the weather wasn’t miserable tomorrow, she’d take Rocket out here again. Ever since she’d discovered he liked to swim, it had gotten kind of fun to take him out riding into the water - only this time she’d do it without her saddle. She was getting kind of tired of cleaning it. “You ever go riding?” She called after him, lightly kicking a spray of water back toward the ocean as a wave broke over her foot. She was aware it was infinitely more likely she was going to gouge her foot open on something sharp in the dark, but … well, it was a small price to pay, right? Damon took off his flip flops and held them in one hand, liking the feel of damp sand on his feet. Whenever he did this, he tended to think about places he might go one day, things he might see. When it was dark like this, the beach could be anywhere. There was a smile etched on his lips as he felt the cool night air blowing his t-shirt around and ruffling his hair. He kept pace with Jaime, hanging only slightly behind her, not flinching at all when the cold water washed over his feet. It felt amazing. “Horseback?” he asked rhetorically, although he figured she didn’t mean motorcycle riding. He knew from Jake that she had a horse. “Nah. I was never really around any horses.” He didn’t dislike them, nothing like that, but his childhood had never consisted of being taken for pony rides, exactly. His answer didn’t really surprise her, but she nodded all the same. “You should come meet Rocket some time,” she decided, a faint smile on her lips. While she meant the invitation, she doubted much he’d take her up on it. Still, it’d be cool if he did come meet her horse some day. “I promise not to make you ride him,” she added with a quiet laugh. Though if he was interested, she’d be more than happy to give him the basics. The thought of beach riding with him was nice. But then, the thought of doing pretty much anything with him was nice. Biting at the inside of her cheek, she lapsed into silence as they strolled along. While she’d like to read a million things into this walk, him being out here with her, she did her best to remember it was all just … silly chance and nothing more. She glanced briefly up-beach but it still looked reasonably crowded from here, and it wasn’t like she was in a rush to bring this to an end. “Tell me something about you,” she prompted as she sidestepped a clump of seaweed on the sand. “Anything,” she added in case he was going to ask ‘like what’. Damon didn’t figure that was a real invitation, just something people said when they were talking. He imagined riding a horse was more complicated than TV and the movies made it look, but who really knew? “How’d you name him?” he asked. Maybe because he was fast? There was all kinds of logic for animal names; he himself had named the stray hounds that had hung around his house growing up One, Two and Three because he hadn’t been able to think of anything better. As they walked along, he was idly thinking about what Jake had said, turning it over in his mind. The issue was taking risks, and Damon wasn’t great at that when it came to interpersonal relationships. People he met in bars out of town weren’t risky at all, because he might never have to see them again. Trying to kindle something with a friend of a friend, who was best friend to said friend’s brother… yeah. All kinds of risk. He turned his head to glance at her when she asked him to tell her something about himself. He had all kinds of stories, many not fit to share. Anything was fairly broad, but he thought he’d start with something safe. “I actually like to cook,” he said. “I guess that’s good, since that’s what I do at the Diner.” There was no fancy fare at the Vale Diner, just solid, wholesome food, but that was all right. Everything needed a foundation to build on. He raked his fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to get it out of his eyes. “Sometimes at home I try out stuff the Diner wouldn’t serve, when I’m not too lazy.” She laughed quietly to his question before shaking her head. “Rocket Raccoon,” she admitted. “I happened to kind of be on a Guardians of the Galaxy kick at the time since the second movie was coming out and … I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those things that’s going to stay stuck even if it wasn’t my best decision ever.” Not that there was anything wrong with Rocket - it wasn’t like she’d gone with Fluffy or Sparkles or something like that. But it was definitely going to be a name she was going to start thinking up alternate answers for the inspiration behind his name. Or she’d just start calling him Rocky and say it was short for Rocking Horse. “Well, it’s good to like what you do. I really like rubbing people’s backs,” she added even if he hadn’t returned the question. But why not? She could volunteer information, and she figured she may as well be chatty before her slight buzz faded and she got all twitchy and weird and awkwarded up the moment. Her lips parted to suggest that he could cook something for her some time before she closed her mouth. No, probably better to just … keep it casual and not make it awkward while they still had walking to do. “What kind of stuff?” She asked instead, sidestepping again around some debris on the beach, bumping a little against him as she did. “Sorry,” she apologized as she shifted back toward the water to regain the distance between them. Even if she would rather have no distance between them. Damon smiled when she told him the origin of Rocket’s name. “I like it,” he said. “Creative, for sure.” Since he’d grown up, he’d had no desire for a pet, something to take care of-- it took all his energy to take care of himself. A horse might not be the usual pet, but more power to her. Maybe she’d grown up riding. He knew Jaime, but he didn’t know a great deal about her childhood. And vice versa, thank God for that. He’d been going to ask her to tell him something, to keep the conversation going, but she volunteered information first. His brow furrowed. “Massage therapy, right? Seems like I remember Jake or Cassi telling me that.” He’d probably gotten a lot more details on Jaime than he’d realized from the two of them. “S’okay,” he said when Jaime bumped against him, reaching out one hand as if to catch her. Thinking about her question, he added, “I’ve done lamb chops, chicken carbonara, pesto shrimp. I mean, nothing that would make the cut at some fancy place in New York or wherever, but kinda impressive for a guy living in a trailer park.” Soon he’d have the trailer decent enough to have company over. Jake and Charlie had been there before, but they’d known him so long they didn’t count as company. “How’d you decide on massage therapy?” he asked. “Or something a twelve year old boy would name his first pony,” she countered with a soft laugh. No matter. Rocket didn’t seem to mind his name and she doubted he would even if he had any idea what it was about. All he probably knew was that she took care of him and brought him carrots. Horses were probably pretty simple that way. She nodded, and had a horrifying moment of wondering what else Jake or Cassi might have mentioned. She trusted Cassi not to tattle, but she also knew Cassi had a thing for trying to hook people up. And Cassi was probably the only person who actually knew about her intensified-as-of-late crush on Damon. But she wouldn’t say anything. Right? “Yeah,” she said finally. “That’s what I got into,” she agreed. “If you ever wanted to cook for someone, I eat,” she offered with a laugh, like it was a joke. So it could be if he thought it was weird. But she pretty much meant it; if he wanted to make her dinner, no one would have to ask her twice. To the question though, she shook her head. “I don’t know? I looked at colleges, and … nothing really struck me. I would’ve tried journalism or something but … everything seemed like too much work, or super pointless, or not a career I wanted. And I like backs,” she shrugged. “So it seemed like if I was going to do something my whole life, might as well be something I like. And there was a spa right in town, so … it made sense at the time. It’s worked out pretty well,” she added, and before she could overthink it too much, she added, “I sometimes need people to practice things on if you were ever interested in being a massage Guinea pig.” Yeah, that was a lot of words, and she lapsed back into silence, sort of waiting for the inevitable thanks but no thanks, or I’m not interested, or wow seriously are you high … or something along those lines. Mostly because she was pretty sure she was really bad at this. “People eating is one of my requirements in cooking for ‘em,” Damon said, grinning at her in amusement. “Least you might not laugh at me like Jake probably would if I tried to feed him chicken cordon bleu or something.” It really wasn’t a bad idea, although it wasn’t something he’d initiate until he got his place done. He had no idea how much Jaime knew about his situation; he didn’t really think that Jake would have told her the whole hoarder mother trailer story. Jake knew when to keep his mouth shut, which was a great quality in a friend. He nodded along when she told him how she’d gotten into what she did, finding it completely plausible. “I feel like it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you like it. I guess some people might think bein’ a cook isn’t any great shakes, but I don’t hate going to work every day. Sounds like you’re the same way.” He tried raking his hair out of his eyes one more time and then gave up. Way too windy for that shit. “I never had a massage,” he added when she said he could be a guinea pig. “Might take you up on that.” She might not be serious about it, but he didn’t want her to think it was something he wouldn’t consider. “Or could do a double-header. I cook dinner, you massage.” Again, might never happen, but the possibility was out there. “Yeah, it’d be a shame if you … made the food and found out they didn’t eat,” she murmured. “Or didn’t like … whatever it was.” She wasn’t a generally picky eater. She had some dislikes sure, but she’d at least try things. “I doubt he’d laugh. He eats too. I’m pretty sure,” she added with a slight grin. Though maybe it wasn’t the same if he cooked for a guy. But it wasn’t like he was cooking for her as a date thing. She didn’t think. She guessed if it ever passed from theory to reality she’d … … double check or something. And no, she really didn’t know much about Damon’s past. She pretty much knew him from school and from hanging out; Jake definitely hadn’t spilled anything. She knew Jake and him had been friends early on but that was really about the extent of it. “Don’t hate it,” she agreed. “And I’m senior enough I can turn away clients that piss me off,” she added. Which was highly unprofessional to say but she doubted he was going to spread the word. “Some do. Or they’re like … super gross and don’t shower off before they get on the table so there’s like … sweat and oil and ew …” She made a slight face. “So I get to say no thanks to the ones with bad hygiene or the ones that’re like … yappy dogs and talk their way through it. Like I don’t get how that’s relaxing for them. Unless it’s … a whole unburdening. If I were into gossip, that’d probably be great for me but … I’d rather everyone just be quiet.” She didn’t mind some conversation, but the ones who talked at her instead of to her… no. And the ones that hit on her … also no, but those didn’t get a second chance without an apology and a big tip. “Never, huh?” She glanced over at him, but wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t the usual type. No medical issues, no sports injuries, not a high stress business man, or a pampered pet … so no, not the type that usually made use of the spa. “We could do that,” she agreed. “You … can cook in my kitchen or I can bring my table to your place. Either way.” Which made her wonder about what level of serious they were being, and she really hoped it wasn’t just idle talk. Because that sounded sort of almost date-y, which was both exhilarating and terrifying. “Jake laughs at everything,” Damon said, his tone fond. He thought it was a good way to be. “I’ve never been a picky eater, so I guess I don’t think of that when I’m getting ready to cook something.” He’d eat anything, even if there were things he didn’t prefer. For instance, was there really a need for brussels sprouts? He didn’t tend to think so. He smirked when he heard her list of don’ts. “Good to know ahead of time,” he said. “I’ll be sure to wash and I won’t yap.” Not that either one would be anything unusual. He was scrupulously clean about his hygiene and he wasn’t a person who had to be talking every minute. It was probably all hypothetical anyway, but it was something nice to think about. He definitely wasn’t into pampering himself and he’d never felt the need to start getting massages, but he felt sure it would be something he’d enjoy if he ever did. Water swirled around his ankles, and some might think it was too cold but for Damon it was perfect. The colder the better. “My place isn’t fit for company yet,” he said. “I’ve been fixing it up. I’d be fine with cooking in someone else’s kitchen though.” He couldn’t decide if he thought this would pan out or not, but that was okay. If it did, maybe he’d make pasta and show her his boiling water trick. That was always fun. Jaime smiled slightly. "Not in a bad way though," she murmured. Though at times it kind of felt like he really couldn't control it. "He'd probably laugh at a funeral," she added thoughtfully. She shook her head slightly, glancing over to him briefly. "Me, either," she admitted. "I guess I never thought to be." Then again, she'd been raised on a lot of take-out food once she was old enough to not need a baby sitter. Still, food was nice. "Yeah, you never struck me as the yappy sort," she agreed with a grin. "Or the dirty sort." If she'd paid more mind to him in their elementary years, she might've had a different opinion, but she didn't really start noticing him until high school. And then she sort of never really stopped noticing him. "Okay," she said. "Maybe this ... weekend. Or whenever," she hurried to add. Maybe he wasn't being serious. Maybe it was just walk-talk and not anything he planned on following through on so maybe she shouldn't act like ... it was a thing they were really planning. "I have things to cook in though if you did want to try some time," she added. Well. She had some things. She might pick up a few more things just to be sure; her kitchen was minimal outside of pots, pans, and utensils used for baking more than cooking. She baked. She wasn't much for cooking beyond super basic things. When they reached the place where it started to be more grass than beach, she stopped and gazed across the water. "Want to head back or ... go across the river?" She asked with a grin. She doubted it, and if he called her on it she'd decline; she wasn't interested in driving home wet, and the river more than knee deep. Most people forgot things that didn’t necessarily relate to their lives, and Damon hoped it was that way for anyone who remembered him from his childhood. Sometimes it made him cringe that Charlie and Jake would remember that side of him, but he tried not to dwell on it. They were his friends, and nobody with any maturity would hold a past one had no control over against them. “Right on both counts,” he said of not being yappy or dirty. “That could work,” he said to the possibility of the weekend. “We could see what we feel like later on in the week.” She would probably need to wash her hair or whatever current excuses women gave for not making plans. Probably best to leave it open-ended. Damon wasn’t a big fan of counting on things so he wouldn’t be disappointed if they didn’t happen. When she asked if he wanted to head back or cross the river, he gave her a wry look. “Guess we should head back,” he said. “I didn’t bring a towel.” It wasn’t that he’d say no to night swimming in some circumstances, but he didn’t much want to drive home wet, either. See what we feel like. Wasn't that the guy brush off? Like he was going to have something else to do? Well. That ... was fine. She was a pro at self-entertaining at this point in her life. Still, she was a little surprised at how much it stung. Okay probably not really that surprised but ... she'd gotten her hopes up. Foolishly, she guessed. It wasn't like one walk was going to change anything. It wasn't like it meant anything. "Well. Keep me posted. If something better crops up, no worries." She was sure he'd have plenty of other things to do. God she was bad at this. The arm not holding the quilt wrapped around her middle as she turned to head back the way they'd come, her eyes downcast a little as she mentally berated herself for pretty much sucking at everything. Still, she could at least pretend it might happen, right? "My phone's in my car," she said. "If you walk me there I can get your number," she began. "You can even have mine, too," she added with a glance over to him, a little smile on her face. Because if they were going to make plans, they should have a way to get in touch with each other, right? And while Jake had both their numbers, it seemed ... better to get his number right from him. It felt less shady and underhanded that way. I doubt it will. Damon almost said the words but didn’t as he realized they might be taken the wrong way. He didn’t want it to seem like the thought of spending time with her was the last thing he’d want to do, and sometimes he didn’t measure what he said well enough before he said it. He hadn’t meant anything negative by saying they could wait and see, he just hadn’t wanted to pin her down if she didn’t want to be pinned. Metaphorically. Anyway. It was possible that he was horrible at this, too. “Okay,” he said of her plan of walking her to her car. “My phone’s in my car, so maybe you could text me when you get my number so I’ll have yours.” Damon wasn’t like the early twenty-somethings with their phones either in their back pockets or in their hands at all times. That just seemed foolish to him. Nobody needed to be that tied to a device. She nodded, somehow unsurprised. While she’d seen plenty of phones out, the beach just didn’t really seem like the place for it for her. Maybe if she’d brought a beach bag, but she hadn’t. So she had no pockets. And no real need; everyone was at the fireworks anyway and she didn’t doubt pictures would be circulating soon if they weren’t already. Content enough to stroll in silence, she glanced up to him now and again as they drew closer to the parking lot. She wasn’t eager for the walk to end, silence or no silence, but she should go make sure all was well at the barn before she headed home. Strolling up the beach when they neared the planks in the sand that served as a walkway, she nodded toward her car, though she did stop to wash the sand off her feet before shaking them off and heading carefully across the parking lot. Granted, she picked up more sand on the way, but … so what? Crouching down, she reached under her rear bumper and pulled out her key to unlock the trunk so she could drop in the quilt, and then she moved to unlock the door to pull her phone out. Navigating to the add a contact screen, she offered him the phone so he could punch in his number. It was a relaxing walk, maybe even more so because there wasn’t the need to chatter about nothing, Damon thought. He always appreciated people who didn’t have to fill every second with words. The crowd on the beach had died down, and he didn’t think they’d have any trouble getting out of the lot at this point. He took a few seconds to rinse off his feet after Jaime did hers and then put his flip flops back on, ready for the short drive home. Once they were at her car, he dusted off his hands on the bottom of his t-shirt before reaching for her phone when she handed it to him and punching in his number. After he had it saved, he sent himself a text. “Okay, all set,” he said, placing the device back in her hand, his fingers brushing hers as he did. “Now I won’t lose track of you.” It was a joke, of course, since anyone could find anyone in a town this size if they really wanted to. Jaime glanced to him as he typed in his number before she glanced around the lot. Yeah, it was pretty well cleared out, which was almost a bummer - no excuse to prolong the encounter. Maybe there'd come a time she wouldn't need an excuse, but right now ... she was still uncertain. She smiled a little as he handed the phone back, and while she wanted to read a lot into the touch, she figured it was just ... a casual handoff that happened to result in a nice touch. "Isn't that something only stalkers worry about?" She teased. And maybe it had been an accident and maybe it meant nothing, but the lingering warmth on her hand made her a little brave. Reaching out with her free hand, she tugged lightly at the sleeve of his shirt. "So, Friday?" She prompted, gazing up at him. "Unless you find a better offer than making dinner and getting a backrub," she added in the off-chance there was actually a need for clarification. It would give him time to find plans if he needed to back out, and she guessed if he did, she'd at least be able to maybe climb past the ridiculousness of this crush. She hoped he didn't back out though. If nothing else, they could at least ... talk. Get to know each other. See if any sparks were there. And if the evening happened to lead to naked sweaty things, so be it. “I dunno, I’ve never been a stalker,” Damon shot back, deadpan except for the mischief that glimmered in his eyes. The tug to his sleeve was definitely a girl-flirt thing, and despite knowing that, it made him smile a little. There was a feeling inside that he wasn’t used to, due to his general casual approach that usually only amounted to hooking up. Was it anticipation, maybe? The prospect that something different could actually happen? Maybe. “I doubt there could be a better offer than that,” he said. He took a split second to try and remember if he was scheduled Friday… breakfast shift, yeah, that was it. He’d be done hours before evening. “Friday,” he agreed with a nod. The actual making of plans had happened, so he figured she hadn’t just been idly talking. “I’ll text you to make sure we’re still on, Friday morning I guess?” “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” she teased back. She nodded slightly to his words, wondering a little if he meant them or not but … it was nice to hear them all the same. Nicer still when he agreed. So maybe it hadn’t just been talk. “Sounds good,” she agreed. “So I’ll … see you then,” she murmured, reaching out to snag his hand briefly, squeezing it lightly before she tilted her head back toward her car. She really should head over and check on Rocket. Of course, there was still every chance he’d text instead to say something had come up, but … she’d rather think positive. She’d see him Friday night. He’d make dinner, if everything was fine after that, she’d give him a massage and … see how things went. Hopefully things went well. |