Jess stood outside Port Authority, back against the rough brick wall, sharply inhaling on a freshly lit cigarette. He was surrounded by the people and noise and movement of New York, but all his senses were focused inside his head where he played and replayed the scene he was sure was taking place behind the wall. The giant steel carriage's engine starting, wheels movement slowly increasing, pulling out of its neatly aligned place in the rows of others like it, taking her away from him. He exhaled.

"Because, you didn't say goodbye"

When he closed his eyes he saw her face. Her perfectly shaped mouth, light pink lips that blended seamlessly into her flawless skin. Her eyes, deep pools of light blue water, washing over him, giving him butterflies and goose bumps and breathtaking light-headedness, none of which he would ever admit to, or even acknowledge. He shifted his weight and bit his bottom lip. The more he thought of her the more the crushing pain in his chest increased. He couldn't breathe, he was restless. His feet were glued to the cold silver pavement but burned with desire. The desire to take hold of her, to capture her and keep her with him, away from everything, away from Dean. She'd belong to only him. He'd studied her often, he had her features, her walk, her smell, her beautifully light voice burned into his mind, but he wanted more. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to explore every part of her body. Damnit. What was he thinking? She was gone. Or rather, he was gone. He left. Damn her for coming here.

Jess shoved his hands into his pockets as he pushed himself off the wall and began walking back towards the park.

********

He was sitting on the same bench, reading the same Tom Wolfe book, in the same position he was in before she found him earlier that day, but Jess was entirely different. He couldn't focus on the words he was reading, something that rarely happened to him. His mind was spinning with thoughts of her. He couldn't believe that less than an hour ago she was right there, within arms reach. It felt like a dream. The whole encounter was now a hazy blur of words and sounds and tastes and smells. He kept wishing she would walk up behind him again. That he could do the day over, completely different. This time he'd tell her exactly how he felt, how she made him feel. He'd pull her aside and grab her delicate face between his hands and kiss her until she couldn't breathe. But she didn't come. And instead he sat there, his eyes staring at words, trying to find meaning in them, trying to remember how to read.