Title: Chalk Marks
Author: Rainwater Tears
Rating: PG
Summary: She didn't know who he was, but maybe it was because he was somebody different. (Lit)
Author's Note: This is my last chance to write this before Jess returns, so even though it'll turn AU in a week, I'm putting it up. It's future lit, it's about starting fresh, and it's a one-parter (which I prefer, if only because it means I don't have to update).
Disclaimer: Yes, I do own Jess. He's fun to play with. Very cooperative.
___
Something changed when she woke up that morning. She opened her eyes to the knowledge that he was back.
She was not completely sure how she knew. Maybe it was the leer on Taylor's face as he swept in front of the market, maybe it was the Troubadour's choice of song, and maybe it was the stubbed out cigarette by the bus stop bench, but somehow she knew that when she walked into the diner he would be there. He may even be the one to take her order, and she would have no control over it. She had never had any control over it.
The bell jangled. It had not jangled since he left, it had not jangled before he came, but his presence made the sound ominous, or maybe that connection was made in his head. Neither really knew. Either way, his eyes did not look up at the noise, and hers did not search his out. They had closure, it had come in a phone call, a one sided phone call, and it had been forgotten, except for late nights of insomnia, where everything echoed and every memory came back to haunt them.
When she sat down at the counter he put his book down and grabbed the coffee pot. He poured her a cup without a word and returned to his pages. This week he was staying in one of Gatsby's guest rooms, she noted, as she pulled out her own book. The God of Small Things. A book of memories. Three pages in she put it back down. She stood up and walked to the end of the counter, where Jess was scribbling something in the margin.
"Could I have some chilli fries?"
"Sure." He called the order to Ceasar in the kitchen. "Anything else?"
"No."
The conversation was too civil, she mulled as she returned to her seat. It felt like talking to a stranger, and as she took a sip of her coffee she realized that they were strangers now. She had changed, he obviously had, too. Why would they still know each other? The thought bothered her for the rest of the day.
___
The next day was the same as the last. She ordered coffee and a donut this time, he handed them to her with nary a word, and they sat at opposite ends of the counter reading. He had moved on to On the Road, she was still pulling herself through Arundhati Roy.
Day after day they kept up their routine. He was just the coffee guy, she just the customer, but every morning they seemed to sit a little closer, and one morning she looked up from her book to find him sitting right next to her, engrossed in his own book.
"Banana split?" she asked.
He looked up from his book. "What?"
"Can. You. Make. A. Banana. Split."
"Oh, sure...Ceasar!"
"Yes?"
"Banana Split."
"Okay."
They went back to their books. She was getting uncomfortable, shifting in her seat, and she couldn't focus on the page in front of her. When Ceasar placed the banana split in front of her a few minutes later she jumped. He turned to face her.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Of course."
"Cause if you keep moving I can't concentrate."
"Sorry. I'll stop."
And she did.
She had been thinking a lot about this, about what she needed to do. She wanted to make things right again, wanted to be his friend. And she realized that maybe what they needed was a fresh start. Sure hints of the past would alway shine through, like the words that are never quite erased from the chalk board, but maybe they could find a common ground. She turned to face him.
"Hi."
"Uh...hi?"
She stuck out her right hand. "I'm Rory."
He smiled, not a big smile, but the smile that told her he understood. "Jess."
And that's how it began.
___
I don't know if this one's any good. It's pretty short, but I wanted to write something before he got back, but I guess I've already said that. Bye.
-Lizibit.
Author: Rainwater Tears
Rating: PG
Summary: She didn't know who he was, but maybe it was because he was somebody different. (Lit)
Author's Note: This is my last chance to write this before Jess returns, so even though it'll turn AU in a week, I'm putting it up. It's future lit, it's about starting fresh, and it's a one-parter (which I prefer, if only because it means I don't have to update).
Disclaimer: Yes, I do own Jess. He's fun to play with. Very cooperative.
___
Something changed when she woke up that morning. She opened her eyes to the knowledge that he was back.
She was not completely sure how she knew. Maybe it was the leer on Taylor's face as he swept in front of the market, maybe it was the Troubadour's choice of song, and maybe it was the stubbed out cigarette by the bus stop bench, but somehow she knew that when she walked into the diner he would be there. He may even be the one to take her order, and she would have no control over it. She had never had any control over it.
The bell jangled. It had not jangled since he left, it had not jangled before he came, but his presence made the sound ominous, or maybe that connection was made in his head. Neither really knew. Either way, his eyes did not look up at the noise, and hers did not search his out. They had closure, it had come in a phone call, a one sided phone call, and it had been forgotten, except for late nights of insomnia, where everything echoed and every memory came back to haunt them.
When she sat down at the counter he put his book down and grabbed the coffee pot. He poured her a cup without a word and returned to his pages. This week he was staying in one of Gatsby's guest rooms, she noted, as she pulled out her own book. The God of Small Things. A book of memories. Three pages in she put it back down. She stood up and walked to the end of the counter, where Jess was scribbling something in the margin.
"Could I have some chilli fries?"
"Sure." He called the order to Ceasar in the kitchen. "Anything else?"
"No."
The conversation was too civil, she mulled as she returned to her seat. It felt like talking to a stranger, and as she took a sip of her coffee she realized that they were strangers now. She had changed, he obviously had, too. Why would they still know each other? The thought bothered her for the rest of the day.
___
The next day was the same as the last. She ordered coffee and a donut this time, he handed them to her with nary a word, and they sat at opposite ends of the counter reading. He had moved on to On the Road, she was still pulling herself through Arundhati Roy.
Day after day they kept up their routine. He was just the coffee guy, she just the customer, but every morning they seemed to sit a little closer, and one morning she looked up from her book to find him sitting right next to her, engrossed in his own book.
"Banana split?" she asked.
He looked up from his book. "What?"
"Can. You. Make. A. Banana. Split."
"Oh, sure...Ceasar!"
"Yes?"
"Banana Split."
"Okay."
They went back to their books. She was getting uncomfortable, shifting in her seat, and she couldn't focus on the page in front of her. When Ceasar placed the banana split in front of her a few minutes later she jumped. He turned to face her.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Of course."
"Cause if you keep moving I can't concentrate."
"Sorry. I'll stop."
And she did.
She had been thinking a lot about this, about what she needed to do. She wanted to make things right again, wanted to be his friend. And she realized that maybe what they needed was a fresh start. Sure hints of the past would alway shine through, like the words that are never quite erased from the chalk board, but maybe they could find a common ground. She turned to face him.
"Hi."
"Uh...hi?"
She stuck out her right hand. "I'm Rory."
He smiled, not a big smile, but the smile that told her he understood. "Jess."
And that's how it began.
___
I don't know if this one's any good. It's pretty short, but I wanted to write something before he got back, but I guess I've already said that. Bye.
-Lizibit.