The Tension's Like a Fire

There were some days when Jay felt like he made his own luck—days when he felt genuinely in control of everything happening around him because it was his life and no one could take that away from him. He always heard the song Close to Me by The Cure those days, and his stride matched the rhythm of the song on the asphalt. But the day he walked through the Los Angeles street with no direction in particular that beautiful October afternoon his whole life changed.

It hadn’t been a special day; it was a twenty fourth, a simple day, simple Thursday, simple weather, simple people, and a simple girl who walked out hastily from the Starbucks he was about to enter, bumping harshly into him and falling backwards on her tailbone to the floor.

Jay had no time to react, really, it all happened so fast that he froze on the spot. The girl in front of him, lying on the floor, had her entire coffee—which looked like an expensive venti—spilled all over her sweater, tainting the white an ugly brown color.

She was a redhaired, obviously dyed since the color was too bright to be natural. A side fringe crossed along her forehead and contrasted against her surprisingly pale skin. She had a button nose but there was a small bump in it. Her eyes were a deep brown. Jay was about to offer his hand when she dropped her whole body to the ground, closing her eyes as she took deep and short breaths. At first he was confused—at least until he realized she was trying to calm down.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Jay offered after a moment, watching as she frowned.

She opened her eyes and Jay found himself staring into two chocolate orbs. “No. No, I’m alright. I—I give up. I’m just gonna lie here until I die.”

“I’m sure it isn’t that bad,” He offered a half-hearted smile.

“You don’t know half of it, Mr. British accent,” she sighed, sitting up and rubbing her face, her beanie falling behind her. “God, everything just came out so wrong today, I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“Everyone has bad days,” Jay grabbed her hat and crouched next to her, feeling guilt wash him down when she pulled her hands off from her features and found her eyes watering. “Bollocks, no, please, don’t cry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s just…” she sniffed and shook her head, covering her eyes again. “I’m such a wimp, I can’t even hold it until home.”

“It’s okay, really, come on, don’t cry,” he didn’t really know American etiquette, but he did know that Americans were very touchy feely, even with strangers, so he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, really, you don’t know how sorry I am.”

She didn’t stop crying, and it only made Jay feel worse. Biting his lip he decided to do the most polite and friendly thing.

“Hey, hey, look at me, yeah?” he begged, and she shook her head again. “What about I had you a shirt? My flat isn’t far from here and then I can treat you to that coffee I spilled you, yeah?”

She stopped the sobs, sniffing before uncovering her face, a little smile painted on her pretty red lips. He realized that she was beautiful, even after crying.

“You said flat,” she simply stated.

“What?” Jay frowned, then his eyebrows shot up. “Did that honestly make you laugh?”

“That and the fact that you said ‘yeah?’ around five times,” she smiled again. “But I have to admit that the sound of another coffee and a dry shirt seems nice.”

Jay didn’t respond, merely beaming back at her. He offered her the beanie she dropped and she grabbed it gratefully, a low thank you being whispered out from her lips. Her nose was already turning red, even though she had a scarf that partially protected her. Jay stood back and offered her a hand again, and this time she took it, cleaning the tear marks she had on her face.

“Jay McGuiness,” he introduced himself.

“Jodi Watson,” she responded.

“Isn’t Watson British?” he narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Isn’t McGuiness Irish?” she narrowed them back.

“That’s the beer,” Jay laughed.

“Well, Mr Irish Beer Jay,” she sighed. “I’m really sorry about bursting out on you, I feel really bad about that.”

“It’s alright, I’m guessing you’ve had a pretty shitty day.”

“More than you think,” she sighed.

“Coffee will make up for that,” he promised.

“How do I know that you’re not a killer who has run away from his country in order to get away from the police, uh?” she asked, although there was a hint of joking in her voice. “For all I know, you could suddenly push me into a deserted alley and cut my throat—and next thing I know, I’m six feet under.”

“Well, I just guess you will have to trust me, right?”

Jay shifted his weight on his other leg and offered his arm out to her, which she stared until she looped her own around it. She was shivering slightly, which made Jay winced—he felt awfully bad about spilling her coffee and getting it all over her. But whilst he walked with her in a silence that wasn’t awkward at all he couldn’t help but think that, had he had the chance, he wouldn’t have dodged her.