Please, Take Me Home

"I hate this job, I hate this smock, I hate this book, I hate my job, I hate my boss, I HATE EVERYTHING!" I gritted out sardonically, through clenched teeth. I was stocking shelves in the back of the shop. For some reason the air back here was 30% muggier, and 100% hotter than anywhere else in this hellhole of a perverts haven bookstore. In between each floppy, erratic, overly-priced romance novel, I was shoving my thick hair off of the back of heater-burned neck.

"I hate you, and you, and you…" I berated each of the book, equally of course, I hate them all the same I assure you, I wasn’t one to choose favorite's with sleezy romance novels.

After a particularly excited rant to a yellow book displaying a steroid-pumped man and his extensively curly hair, holding a scantily dressed woman to his hip- a decapitated laugh came from behind me.

"I know they're unrealistic, but honestly what did they ever do to you?" The voice was joking.

"A false sense of hope." I retorted, throwing the last 5 in without stacking them. No one would notice if they weren’t straight.

"Then we should burn them too, along with 100 calorie packs and children programs.

I turned around to face the person, who was so blatantly teasing my stocking habits.

I didn’t expect her to be so short. From my stance of 5"5 I could see clear over her coppery red hair. She had her lips pursed in an amused expression, along with her scrunched up blue eyes.

"We should." I smiled deciding she was okay, when she let out a hiccup of a laugh.

"Jane." She held out a hand with silver rings on all of her fingers.

"Sally." I shook her hand briefly, before grabbing the empty trolly. I smiled one more time before wheeling it to the front.

"I haven’t seen you around here before." She said, following me closely.

"That sounded like an over-used pick up line." I said, without thinking. Oops, was that rude?

She laughed in that almost hiccupping way again.

"It kinda did. Never fear, you're a little too short for me."

I glanced at her over my shoulder.

"I'm too short?"

She didn’t catch the sarcasm, she just smiled, revealing teeth that were maybe a little to big for her mouth. I let it slide.

"This isn’t my usual shift."

"Ahh, makes sense now." She picked up a magazine full of those lies; like that Bush was keeping the secrets of greek mythology from us. The National Inquirer was crazy.

"Well I have to go- I'll be back tomorrow, 'specially for this tasty bit." She poked the magazine.

"Just take it." I replied, sitting on the stool behind the cash register.

She shook her head furiously, her red locks hitting her in the face. "I didn’t bring any money"

"No ones gonna notice." She looked skeptical, "I'm the manager, and I don’t care." I shrugged, tossing it to her. She glared at it, determinely putting it back on the shelf next to the magazine that proudly displayed a woman with no top on.

"That’s bad, I'll be back. Bye!" She waved, walking away without looking as she waved.

She was odd.

~

"Saaaaaally." Jack drew out my name, strumming his fingers on the table in a rhythmic pattern.

"Huh?" I looked up from the cereal box, I was trying to figure out where Fantastic Sam hid the froot loops this time.

He looked slightly annoyed, as he pinched the smooth skin on his chin. We were sitting in my bare kitchen on the counters, I was eating cereal and he was drinking coffee, black, no sugar, like usual.

"You haven’t come over in a while." He sounded thoughtful as he said this, but I knew. He was being accusing. I hadn’t been to his 5th floor apartment in 2 weeks. (I hadn’t spent the night in a month. )

"You're here, why do I have to walk all the way up there?" I was avoiding it, and he knew it.

His eyebrows rose. I looked back to the box. I prayed my cheeks would stay neutral.

~

"You need to stop buying so much." I grumbled, dropping the brown bag on his cluttered table, on top of a stack of blue papers.

"Maybe you should stop eating so much."

"I NEVER eat your food! You eat MINE!"

"Potatoes, potatoes." He said in a not-so-hushed voice. I rolled my eyes for his benefit, a corner of his mouth rose, as his thin hands started neatly placing the canned goods in the cupboard.

I leaned against the fake grain wood, watching him. I was too afraid to help, he had an order that things had to be in and a certain place for them. I might have gotten my head bitten' off for so much as putting the diced tomatoes left to the crushed ones, they OBVIOUSLY go to the right. (pfft)

He finished, leaning elegantly across from me. There wasn’t much room in the 3X5 kitchen, he was roughly a foot away, his arms folded loosely.

"I'm bored." He drawled, leaning his head back to the wood-looking cover.

I glanced at him strangely, that wasn’t a very Jack thing to say.

Then I saw his stance- he was up to something. His shoulders were tense and his feet spaced apart, even over the faux relaxed position his neck was in.

On skinny arm came towards me, pushing my hair over my shoulder. A collective shiver erupted through me, I bit my tongue.

He leaned forward, resting his head on my shoulder, his nose touching my neck. I held very still, blinking in surprise.

"How have you been?" He asked with a hoarse quality to his voice. That wasn’t very Jack like to say. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

He's up to something.

I guess I can play along…

"Fine…you?" My voice was desperately trying to shake, but I held out, sounding a little more high pitched than usual.

"Little Sally, JUST fine?" He attempted a teasing tone, it just sounded bitter, like dry swallowing a pill to just have it get stuck in your mouth.

He traced one finger along the profile of my face, stopping on my bottom lip. I jerked back. His sharp eyes bore into me, as he stood to his usual graceful slouch, which I know is an oxy-moron, but it was just what it was.

"Jack." I warned, pressing my back further into the sharp counter's edge, trying to lengthen our distance.

"Sally." He mocked, placing two warm hands on my neck.

I bit my top lip, tugging it painfully.

From my arched position he had a clear view of my under-jaw. His smooth lips pressed coolly to the very edge of my jawline.

"Jack."

"Sally." He repeated, I could feel him smirk.

He kept going, tracing the contours of my face, slowly, softly. He knew. He knew and he kept doing it.

"Jack stop!" I whispered flustered. My hands were balled into fists on either side of me, and my face was growing redder by the millisecond.

"Why?" He asked, lacing his hands in my hair, pressing his starved figure against mine fully.

"What the fuck?"

Both of heads swiveled fast, to find Dave standing there in his boxers. His hair was sticking up on one side, and his eyes were still a little squinty from sleep.

"Dave? What's wrong, did you find Jack?" A feminine voice, asked worriedly. (Ditz.)

Hannah's honey colored head poked around the corner. I stood, now stark white, a look of dread on my face. Jack was glaring like a murderer at Dave.

Her mouth dropped, before her face scrunched up like a hand under water.

"Jack! Wha-How- HER!?!"