Into Sparks

I don't care if we suddenly,

The thing was, it didn’t seem particularly strange. I’d be somewhere, and I’d just walk right into him (once literally), we’d exchange a few words and then be on our way. We didn’t live near each other either – that would’ve been an easy explanation, but we didn’t. I only ever saw him if I was miles away from home.

I didn’t see him often enough for it to be something I actively thought about either. A couple times a year at most. For the first few times it was really awkward. After that first time of us being temporary friends, almost, the times after seemed bizarre.

It wasn’t until the fourth time we met that I found out his name. I was seventeen and having dinner with my family at a restaurant. I was also in the men’s toilets. They were nice, thick black marbled counter tops. It was a fancy sort of place, and the line for the ladies was insane. There was no one else in there, so what did it matter?

I pulled at the lace collar of my shirt, and cleaned the line of my lipstick in the mirror. The door opened, and I tried to keep a straight face, I knew it was going to be embarrassing - a guy coming in to have a piss, and there’s some girl doing her lipstick, I could practically picture it.

“Should you really be in here?” he asked from the doorway. I was all set and ready to duck my head and run out. At that point I had no idea who it was, and I don’t think he knew it was me either.

“Have you seen the queue for the ladies?” I replied, and then I turned around.

“Oh,” we both said in unison.

“This is crazy,” I leant back against the sink, “I feel like I should be saying, ”We have to stop meeting like this!” or something.”

He smiled – he was definitely a smiler, there were laughter lines etched around his mouth – and nodded. “We do have a habit of bumping into each other.”

And just like that, it wasn’t awkward. He walked into the room properly, and I dabbed on some more lipstick.

“So what’s your name then, stranger?” I asked into the mirror, scrunching my nose up.

“Jack,” he replied, “You?”

“Ally.”

The corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smirk, but they dropped again a second later. From this close I could see that he obviously hadn’t shaved this morning. I made a guess at his age, thirty? Maybe, I wasn’t sure. That was also kind of exciting. I was seventeen, didn’t know any better, and didn’t care either way.

“S’not very exotic,” he mumbled, and my eyes shot up.

“Pardon?”

“Well, err, your name,” he cleared his throat, “it doesn’t really match you.”

“So you think I’m “exotic”?” I raised an eyebrow, and secretly enjoyed watching him squirm.

“Well, I guess,” he said, but it sounded like a question.

“Jesus Christ,” I laughed, “I’m not a fucking bird of paradise. I’m half Korean.”

“And you’re married now?” I said as my eyes flicked down to his hands. Last time we met, about three months before, he definitely wasn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” he swallowed, “I’m here with her tonight actually.”

“Congrats,” I smiled even though I didn’t want to. Even though I felt stupid, and I didn’t know why.

“She’s nothing like you,” he said under his breath, but I heard. I couldn’t tell what he meant by it from his tone so I let the words fall to the floor without stopping them.

He was dressed up, a nice suit and matching tie. She probably picked it out for him. I didn’t really care about her, and that was odd too. I knew that I should, but I just didn’t.

“I should probably go. My mum’ll go nuts and send my brother to find me if I’m much longer,” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I thought my lace top was fancy, but I felt drab next to Jack in his charcoal suit.

“You’ve got a brother?” he asked, taken aback. It was probably just a bit too real. Talking into a stranger was one thing, but bumping into someone you know by name with a brother, well that’s different.

“Yeah.” I stepped forwards towards him and stood straight, chin up towards him because he was miles taller than me. “Alex is fourteen, and I have an older sister called Mary, she’s twenty and she doesn’t live at home.”

I was touching distance away from him when I stopped. I laughed, scanned down the length of his tie, and said, “Uncomfortable enough yet? Or do you want my whole family tree?”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “She’s called Claire, my wife,” his eyes flicked down to my lips, “just so we’re even.”

“Don’t you need to piss, Jack? That is what toilets are for.”

He leant down, turning my cheek to whisper, “I saw you earlier, across the room.” And I could’ve sworn I felt his lips brush my ear. The air conditioning buzzed above us.

I blushed. Maybe it was a little more complicated than I’d first thought.

“Give Claire my best,” I stepped back, “see you around.” I crossed my arms over my chest to stop my hands from shaking, and walked back out towards my family. I felt completely off, like I was about to get head rush.

Luckily for me, I’d have a while to recover, because the next time I saw him was a year later. I was eighteen and he was still married, and somehow, we ended up spending the night together.

But probably not in the way you’re thinking.
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Once I've finished the whole thing, I'm going to redo it a little bit. I'm not sure where I'm going to end it with is all, but I didn't want to write it as a big clump and post it all together.