Like Fire & Gasoline

The scraping of forks against glass was all that was heard in the Thomas household, along with the occasional crunch. James fought to keep the silverware in his clammy palms as he focused on the pasta in front of him. Bridgette watched him from across the table, not quite sure whether to laugh or fear for her boyfriend’s life. She took a sidelong glance at her father, who was sitting stiffly in his seat, attacking the noodles with the fork.

As Bridgette caught James’s eye, she attempted to give him a reassuring smile. His attempt to return it ended up as more of a grimace. Bridgette gnawed on the inside of her cheek, before turning to her mother with a desperate glance. Adele cleared her throat, which broke the unbearable silence.

“So, James, we don’t know much about you. Have you lived here your whole life?” she asked, and Bridgette thanked her silently. Lucas eyed James, waiting for the response. James swallowed painfully before speaking.

“Well, I was actually born in New York, but I was raised here in California, near San Diego,” he explained slowly. Bridgette gave him a thumbs up, and he relaxed just a bit. It didn’t last long, because Lucas’s gruff voice interrupted briefly after.

“So are you going to school? Where’s your future taking you?”

“Daddy,” Bridgette warned, a stunned tone in her voice. Adele was watching him with a sharp look, but James cleared his throat.

“It’s fine, Bridgette. Actually, I’m an actor.” Lucas nearly choked on his water, and Bridgette leaned across, patting his back as he coughed.

“Absolutely not, Bridgette,” he said sternly. She rolled her eyes, looking at her mom for help.

“Honey, calm down,” Adele scolded, before turning warmly to James. “I thought I recognized you. Aren’t you on a billboard downtown with some other young men?”

“Yeah. It’s for our television show and band.”

“I suppose the show’s filled with violence and drugs, as are the lyrics,” Lucas said disapprovingly.

“Dad, honestly,” Bridgette grumbled, burying her face in her hands.

“Actually, sir, it’s on Nickelodeon. It’s more of a comedy for kids and teens.”

“So your some teenybopper?”

“Lucas!” Adele chastised, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Oh my god, this isn’t happening,” Bridgette mumbled to herself, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s okay, honestly,” James said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Bridgette gave him an apologetic glance before throwing an enraged one at her father.

“Why don’t you tell my dad how we met, James,” she suggested, an edge to her voice, which was directed at Lucas. He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair a bit. He cocked an eyebrow expectantly, and James set down his fork, scratching his head before starting.

“Well, I was getting a bite to eat with my friends, and I left early to go over some work for the next day. I was walking down the street when I heard Bridgette. She was yelling at some guy who wouldn’t take a hint and leave her alone. He was more than slightly intoxicated.

“I rushed over to see what was wrong. I told the guy to leave her alone, and then I walked her back over to the main street, where it was safer. It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” he said humbly, but Bridgette looked up at him with a soft look in her cerulean eyes.

“Yes it was. Who knows what that guy would’ve done if you hadn’t stepped in,” she countered.

“How brave of you James,” Adele gasped, her fondness of the chestnut-haired boy growing. A rose flush crept upon James’s cheeks as he took a sip from his glass.

Bridgette turned her attention to Lucas, who was now slumped down in his chair. A defeated look was on his face, and she had to fight the urge to stick her tongue out. He opened his mouth once, but closed it. There was nothing negative he could say about that story or James’s action.

“I’m going to bed,” he grumbled, pushing away from the table. Bridgette covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide the giggles threatening to burst from her lips. Adele looked at her husband strangely, before allowing her eyes to flicker to the grandfather clock in the corner.

“Honey, it’s only six,” she said, feigning bafflement. He muttered something inaudible before disappearing up the staircase. As soon as he was out of earshot, Adele and Bridgette started laughing. James just looked between them and the staircase, his face a mask of puzzlement.

“What did I say?” he asked. The genuine confusion on his face only made them laugh harder. When Bridgette caught her breath, she shook her head, curls moving with her.

“It’s not you, James,” she assured him, grabbing his hand from across the table.

“But he—“

“James, he’s just mad because he can’t hate you. You rescued his only child, only daughter, from who knows what. There’s no smart-ass comment he can make following that story,” Adele explained.

“Why do I feel like he hates me even more now?” James asked cautiously, his voice low. Part of him feared Lucas would hear the conversation, even from upstairs. That man was truly intimidating.

“He doesn’t. He wants to, but he can’t,” Bridgette countered, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah, that was a look of love he gave me as he stormed from the room,” he retorted. Adele laughed, reaching over to pat James’s shoulder.

“I like this boy,” she said blatantly, winking at her daughter. Bridgette pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.

“Okay Mom, why don’t you go see if Dad’s okay?” The words came off as more of a demand instead of suggestion, and Adele held her hands up defensively.

“Okay, I can take a hint. Have a good night you two,” she said before departing.

“You’re okay, James. Trust me. He likes you.” James looked up at her incredulously, and she widened her eyes. “I’m being honest. The last guy I brought home left in tears.”

“I don’t blame him.” Bridgette walked around the table, wrapping her arms around James from behind.

“Don’t let my dad get to you. He’ll warm up, I promise.”

He grabbed her hands, stroking them with his thumb. He turned to face her, kissing her lips softly. He pulled away quickly, but Bridgette felt herself smiling. She had a feeling he was still afraid her dad would pop out from around the corner and beat him to a pulp. The kiss had been chaste and sweet, but it was perfect.

“You better be right. I don’t wanna end up like the last guy,” he whispered.

“Hey, are you still here?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

“Of course I am,” he said slowly, confusion creeping into his voice.

“Then you’re nothing like the last guy. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Neither do you. I’m not going anywhere, Bridge.” He pulled her into his lap, kissing her gently again. When they pulled apart, she nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“Good. ‘Cause then I’d be heartbroken, and my dad really would kill you,” she teased. James gulped over dramatically, and Bridgette giggled against his skin.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me,” he sighed, brushing some hair out of her face.

“Oh, rats,” she joked, and he jabbed her in the side. She nearly fell of the chair, but his arms were wrapped tightly around her.

“You aren’t getting away that easily,” he said, the double meaning obvious to the both of them. She nodded, gazing deeply into his eyes as her arms wound around his neck. They didn’t say a thing, but the silence between them buzzed with words both understood.