Heart & Soul

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Good, Josie.

This had come to the point where I had to tell myself when and how to breathe. Mentally, I chuckled at myself, my stupidity, and my anxiousness all the same. I tugged down the sleeves of my shirt on impulse, something I had grown so accustomed to doing that I did it without even realizing. My sleeves didn't really need to be tugged down, seeing as they weren't leaving my skin anytime soon, as I'm sure it was already growing embedded in my soft flesh as the party went on, thumping bass note by thumping bass note. It was a long sleeved, tight fitted cheetah print v-neck that Bailey had dug out of the depths of my closet that I had purchased years ago in my college days. A bit more bold than my reserved style that I had adapted to over the years, but Bailey had insisted I wear something that would "make the kiddies drool".

I wasn't sure I was even capable of doing so anymore, a v-neck and a push up bra so far out of my element that sex appeal was a foreign language to my ears. Parties were not my scene, not my element, not my area of expertise; not anymore at least.

I still wasn't too amused or intrigued with the idea that this was actually considered a holiday, let alone something to have a party thrown for. April twentieth. I didn't see the significance, but at least the stoners and party animals did. It was known to them as "National Marijuana Smoking Day", and sure, I had taken a couple hits in my lifetime, but I surely did not see the importance.

But Bailey of course did. She had made sure to jump on my bed this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and told me that she was dragging me to a party whether or not my body and mind could handle it. "Vitamin D and socialization", as she had put it. Where she came up with these sayings, I wasn't all too aware of.

So here I sat in a foreign house, with foreign people, with foreign drinks and foreign pipes, and foreign lingo that I didn't have the slightest idea on how to encrypt. Bailey was long gone somewhere socializing with her boyfriend Vic, leaving me alone to ponder my thoughts, which I had all too much time to do at home as it was. I silently wondered why she dragged me out, seeing as the thing different about what I was doing was the atmosphere in which it took place. Instead of at our cozy apartment with my music playing in the background and my expensive medical school textbook openfaced and laying on my bed, it was in a stranger's home with heavy bass on a rap song I didn't care for blaring through speakers, kegs balanced on every possible surface, and liquor bottles and bongs and bowls adorning the hands of passerbys. Not my cup of tea.

I held a plastic cup in my hands, filled with only a splash of Grey Goose and the rest of orange juice to create a very weak screwdriver, but I wasn't looking to be three sheets to the wind tonight. I took sips from it here and there, even the small amount of tepid liquor that was in it burning my throat as it cascaded down.

I ran a shaky hand through my dark, long locks in hopes to untangle nonexistent knots, trying to remove my thoughts from the aura of this party. It wasn't particularly enticing. My right knee bounced up and down at rapid speed, something that my body did in an attempt to ease some of my strung up nerves in the slightest. Even the few hits off the bong that Bailey insist I take had not calmed me down. The only things that sounded soothing were a cup of hot cocoa (although it was April), an old paperback copy of a Hemingway novel, and a fuzzy blanket. All I wanted was the comfort of my home, seeing as I could not seek shelter in my own head for fear of what might occur.

A tall, medium build man passed by, stumbling and laughing in drunken and high stupor as he paused to try and make eye contact. My eyes quickly averted his attention by putting my head down. I saw him walk away out of the corner of my eye, and I sighed with relief. Crisis averted.

Once I knew the coast was clear, I peeked out of the shield my hair created so I didn't have to look at strangers, and quickly glanced my green eyes around the clusters of people that had formed. I decided I would get up and try and walk around a bit, maybe find Bailey and tell her that I wanted to leave soon, and that if she didn't want to that I would call a cab.

I walked with ease, seeing as I was sober for the most part. I aimlessly wandered through the clumps of perspired-covered bodies, squinting my eyes to see through the smokey, putrid skunk-permeated air. The haze was so thick that I could cut it with a knife.

Ten minutes later and I hadn't had any luck with finding my best friend and her boyfriend, yet I was still hopeful. I wandered down a hall, opening a door to what I was praying was a bathroom so I could splash some cold water on my flushed cheeks. I was correct when I presumed it was a restroom, but I was quickly sent right back out when I walked in on a couple in the missionary position on the tile floor. I awkwardly muttered my apologies and exited as fast as I could, shutting the door behind me.

As I focused my attention back on the small hall in front of me, I heard my name being called over the bassline by a familiar, high pitched voice.

"Jo! Over here!" I instantly found the face of my best friend, and for that I was thankful as I made my way through the masses of people towards her. She was stood next to a cluster of people hitting off the hookah. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" Bailey's slightly slurred words sounded.

"Funny, cause I've been in the same spot since five minutes after we got here..." I trailed off, but my best friend was long gone off of that topic.

"Isn't this party awesome?!" Bailey boomed, waving her arms so forcefully that some of her drink sloshed out of her cup and on to the carpeting beneath us. "Oops," she chuckled before quickly looking back to me. "Are you having a good time?!" She roared, thought I could clearly distinguish between her voice and the echoing song.

"Not really, I think I might-" I began, but I was quickly interrupted as Vic came over to Bailey side, handing her another drink and kissing her on the cheek. Needless to say, that held her attention more than my excuses to leave did.

"Hey Josie!" Vic smiled a brilliant smile, not looking intoxicated except for maybe a slight buzz from the alcohol. From what I knew, Vic wasn't a smoker.

"Hey Vic," I smiled, raising my cup up slightly to him in a feeble attempt to make it seem like I was having a good time.

"Have you seen my brother? He's around here somewhere," He asked me, and I furrowed my brows in response.

"To be honest, I never even knew you had a brother, let alone that he was floating around here somewhere, Fuentes," I admitted.

"Yeah, I ha-" Vic tried to formulate words but was cut short when Bailey burst something about seeing an elephant bowl and ran off looking like a kid on Christmas. Vic shrugged and gave a small smile and ran after his woman.

I groaned, lolling my head back in frustration about the entire night so far. Back to square one. I trudged back over to the black couch in the corner that I was sat in only minutes beforehand. I huffed, resting my back against the cushions and trying to at least get a little comfortable, seeing as I was most likely going to be here for quite some time longer. I set my mostly full cup of alcohol down on the glass table in front of me, and dug around in my bag for my pack of cigarettes and lighter.

I didn't normally smoke, only in situations where I needed to desperately redirect my attention. I found them after a bit of digging. I put the filter between my lips and brought the lighter to ignite the toxic tobacco. I sat for a minute, indulging in the haze that the cigarette created and enjoying the drags I took as it refocused my attention.

"Did you know that on average, smokers die ten years sooner than nonsmokers?" a male voice coming from my left broke me out of my reverie, somewhat causing me to become perturbed.

I took the cancer stick out of my mouth, but didn't look at the man who spewed cigarette statistics when I uttered my reply.

"Is that so?" I asked before shoving the cigarette back between my lips, taking another drag from it before making eye contact with someone I was afraid to do so. I couldn't help it at this point; whenever I heard a male voice, I tended to cringe, or my stomach dropped.

"Ah, it is indeed. And I don't think gorgeous girls like you should be losing that many precious years," I took a look to my left to meet the chocolate brown gaze of my Stats Man and had to mentally slap myself when my jaw hung agape for a moment.

Stats Man was of tall stature, with long limbs with slight muscle tone that peered out from a three quarter sleeve shirt and black colored skinny jeans. He was no doubt of Mexican descent, his dark eyes and hair to match a dead giveaway. A flat-brimmed hat sat atop his dark tendrils, some of which looked to have been shaved off on the side. He had a lip ring in the center of a supple bottom lip, and another that was a stud in the middle on his upper lip. Thick, dark lashes and brows enveloped his deep gaze that drank me in with curious eyes. Colorful artwork adorned the canvas of his visible body, the hues and tints bringing out a deep, tanned skin tone, the intricate detail on the work complimenting the beautiful color of his caramel flesh.

And to my amusement, when I looked at him, a lit cigarette rested in between his tattooed fingers.

My eyes flashed back and forth between the irony and the beauty of this man, both of which left me dumbfounded.

"While I have half the sense to formulate a thank you, I also have half the sense to comment on the irony of this situation. And to be honest, I'm not sure which to express," I gave a crooked smirk before flicking ash into a nearby ashtray.

"From my astounding amount of perceptivity, I would say you are far too modest to express your thank you, and that you are far too polite to comment on the irony. Reserved, well-mannered, and beautiful. You are the definition of a triple threat, m'dear," His brows raised with amusement, as I'm sure he was pleased with himself with his reply.

"Astounding amount of perceptivity, eh? Tell me, what is that I'm drinking?" Normally, I wouldn't be this brave with my words. I would be cowering in a corner like a puppy or a child who lost their mother in a department store while she was shopping. My words startled myself. Maybe the little amount of liquid courage I had consumed had done it, or maybe the few hits I had taken earlier had sparked a bolder side of me. Whatever it may have been, I, nor had anyone else, seen it in a couple of years.

He smirked, lips twitching as he brought the cigarette back to his mouth to take another drag. He exhaled before he replied, surely trying to ponder what was in my cup.

"My spidey senses tell me you're more of a classy wine lady, but you opted for the screwdriver because you either A) have class in the morning, or B) have work in the morning and you knew you couldn't have a hangover for either," By the end of his statement, he couldn't keep a straight face and slowly gave a small chuck to me as I exposed my teeth in a small smile.

"Your spidey senses have not failed you. Impressive, Peter Parker," I smiled before putting out the short in the ashtray. I would be lying if I said this man didn't pique my curiosity in the slightest.

"So which is it?" His grin did not fade as he spoke to me, and that was something that I was really fond of. I wasn't used to someone being interested in what I had to say. But for these few moments, it felt as if we were the only ones that sat in this room, despite the partying bodies that gathered around us to the pulsing bass. I hadn't even noticed, but my hands were no longer shaking, and my knee was no longer going a mile a minute, but rather completely at ease on the ground beneath my feet.

"Option B, I have work in the morning, to my dismay," I pulled my feet underneath me, getting more comfortable and giving off body language to let him know that I was interested in what he had to say. He could spew pointless statistics at me all night long for all I cared.

"Where might that be?" He questioned, tilting his head as he put out his own cigarette.

"A local bookstore," I replied nonchalant, hoping to move past the subject of my work area. I didn't know him, I didn't want to give away too many details.

"And if I were to go into that bookstore, and ask a coworker where they think the best place to take you out on a date is, what do you think they would say?" He questioned, clearly still pleased with himself. I played along with the idea, though I didn't know how many other girls he had done this to tonight as well, and I kept that in mind.

"They would say that I don't date strangers. Or anyone, for that matter," I raised an eyebrow, toying with the situation at hand. Though I was being serious, I didn't want him to get too many ideas.

"Hmm, emotionally unavailable?" he inquired, licking his lips after he did so.

"Not quite, Parker," I giggled, picking up my drink and taking a large gulp.

"Then is has to be emotionally unavailable's ride or die bitch, emotionally damaged. Cause there's no way in hell a girl like you is single for long," he nodded along with his statement.

"Something like that, minus the being single for long side note you stuck in there," I ran a hand through my long locks to keep them out of my face.

"I'm trying to figure you out, but you're a bit hard to read," the beautiful stranger admitted, scratching at the back of his neck to show his confusion.

"Ah, and that's the fun of it all, Peter Parker," I flashed my pearly whites at him once more.

"And what would one of your coworkers call you?" he asked indirectly.

"J. They would call me J," I shorted my name to the first initial, not wanting to ruin all the fun.

"Just J?" the man asked, confused.

"Just J,"

"So, Just J, what do you say; do you want to get a coffee sometime?"

"I'll tell you what, Peter Parker. If we ever happen to see each other again by some random occurrence, it's kismet. I will allow you to take me on all the dates your spidey-sense-tingling heart desires. Sound fair?" I didn't mean for it to sound rude, and I hope that it didn't by any means. By the smirk he still has plastered on his face, I feel like he didn't take it to heart. But I had to remain in my own comfort zone. I knew I wasn't ready to start dating again, and with this offer, it had to be mother fucking fate testing us if it actually happened. I felt it was a fair deal.

"Mysterious. It's sexy. You've got yourself a deal, little lady."