Friendly Affections

I touched the lipstick to my mouth and delicately took my time filling in places that lacked enough of the deep red color. I was the definition of girl-stalling-in-the-bathroom-because-her-date-sucks and it must have been apparent to the other woman as they all washed their hands and fluffed their hair. Hell, maybe a few them were doing the same thing.
Lucas. Lucas McCall. An associate of my sister, Kate. One she insisted was attractive, riveting and destined to end my past two months of terrible dates. Yet he had done no such thing as the night wore on and I felt myself slipping back into old memories and old daydreams. Ones were Mark was suddenly rushed home and back into my arms. Ones were he never left. Even ones were he bought a ring and proposed. Improbable ones, that is. The sort I created in earlier hours of the morning while I lied in bed lonely and craving a physical connection.
“Shit.” I murmured, as tears pooled in my eyes. My mascara. I did my best to blink the tears back and clean the few escapees off my face without smudging my eye make-up. I attempted to leave my pathetic feelings behind me as I pushed open the bathroom door.
After only a few steps, I felt the urge to cry harassing me even stronger so I turned back to the bathroom, ready to reenter and sob. I collided with someone and muttered an apology while he caught my arms to prevent me from tumbling to floor. Wanting my bathroom sanctuary, I pulled away, blinking through tears and running mascara. “Excuse me.” I tried to step around him and into the bathroom, but he stood steady.
“Are you okay?” I peered at him through soaked eyelashes that clung together, meeting his concerned, or maybe just curious, gaze.
I nodded my head and tried to steady my tears. Was I okay? I was overreacting. I had imagined myself in my wedding dress—the white one hanging in the back of my closet? – and it made me want to curl into a ball on a public bathroom’s floor and sob. I felt like at twenty five I was ready to get married and settle down, but I had been deprived of that. Yet still, all hope was not lost, only misplaced for a little while. So yes, I was okay. Or would be okay, eventually. “I just need in there.”
He didn’t move, he only stared. Feeling self-conscious from my running make-up and sniffly nose, I looked back to where Lucas sat. His head was bent over his phone as he typed furiously and I could only imagine what sort of reply he was texting to someone: i’m at lunch with a crazy emotional bitch, so not much. what are you up to?
I knew I couldn’t survive the rest of the lunch and forcing Lucas who was a great, great, guy to put up with my sorry ass was rude and unnecessary. It got the point where no matter how much sass and charm I could dish out on a good day, not even getting to be around me at my best was a worthy exchange for being around me at my worst.
“Do you need help or anything? Is something wrong?” The blonde man who blocked my path asked.
I slowed my tears and took a few deep breathe. “Do I need help? Is something wrong? Ha, yes I do, lots of it, some probably psychiatric. And many things are wrong, like global warming and the world’s imminent end, but well what’s a girl to do? I can’t solve all of a nation’s problems on my own.” I babbled for a moment, avoiding his expressive and connective eyes that bore into me.
His face was puzzled by my sarcasm and then it broke into a sincere smile. “Hey, I think you’re going to be alright.”
“Ew, stop being so...sincere. How does a person get to be that sickeningly sincere anyway? Are there classes or something? Online course, maybe?” I was upset and he was only worsening it. Or maybe he was making it better by infuriating me about something else. I wasn't sure why I had let our conversation continue to the point of crippling sarcasm.
“Yeah, actually. Indiana is known nationally for having the best sincerity classes in the US.” He sassed right back stupidly, both of us knowing I deserved it.
I let out a watery laugh, spewing more insults. “That is probably the stupidest response I've every heard. And you’re from Indiana, ooh, scary. What are you, some basketball obsessed hick?”
“Hockey,” He answered. “Not basketball, hockey. And what, Ohioans are so much scarier? Aren’t we all hicks just the same?” He leaned back into the bathroom door and I could tell this talkative stranger still had a good amount of height on me, so using physical force to bust past him was out of the question. Not to mention his bulging biceps and tight tee-shirt that promised a toned body beneath it.
“I’m from Northern Ohio, we’re more like Michiganders than Ohioans. And everyone knows how bad ass Michiganders are. I mean Hell, they’ve got Detroit.” I answer him, indignant.
He shifted slightly as a playful grin crossed his face and I could tell he had the perfect response. “I went to college in Michigan, U of M. So does that mean I’m slightly bad ass?”
“No. You weren’t born there, so no.” I glanced around the restaurant for Lucas, hoping to catch his attention and that he was gentlemen enough to rescue me. But, alas, no luck.
The stranger, disregarding our odd conversation, extended his hand. “I’m Jack.”
“That’s nice.” I answered, shaking it briefly, which caused him to chuckle. He was seemingly unaffected by my sarcastic, curt responses. It was almost as if he enjoyed them, the masochist.
“Not very friendly, are you?” He asked, with a cock of his eyebrow. I spared a glance in his direction only to be startled by the look he was giving me. It was one that made me wish I had a shell, like a turtle, that I could pull over every inch of my body. He was looking clean through me like he knew something about me not even I was aware of.
I pursed my lips. “Look, Jack, it was nice meeting you and sassing you, but I have to go. I’m going to be late for meeting.” I lied smoothly as I turned from him, already moving towards the front door to the restaurant my steps swift and determined.
“Okay, ‘bye!” I heard him call after me and I rolled my eyes praying I would never ran in to him again—and yet secretly, subconsciously, hoping I might.