Author's note: Okay. So, yes. I wrote a 'Fast Sofa' fan fiction, and I wrote it in one day. I did it this way becaue I was afraid that, if I stopped writing for longer than a few hours, I would a)lose interest and/or b)actually realize what the hell I was doing. But I didn't want to do that, so I just churned it out. The reason that I wrote it in the first place is because I was so dissatisfied with the anticlimactic end of the film. I mean, the whole movie was pretty pointless, except for Jules, but it just really bummed me out. This is my main reason for ever writing fan fiction: justification. I wasn't okay with what happened, so I fixed it in the only way I knew how. I hope you can overlook the blatant Mary-Sue-ness of this (because really, could I have done it any other way?) and extract some modicum of enjoyment from it. Good luck!
Jules awoke drenched in cold sweat, the sound of a hawk's cry ringing in his ears. He sat up and looked around the dark room, eyes darting every which way. There was no sign of the hawk, or anyone. He was alone.
He'd just had the strangest, most real, most frightening dream that he could recall, since his early childhood. He used to dream of being trapped in a large room full of birds of prey, and he was their prey. That was before he'd really known much about them, or replaced his fear of them for the respect he'd cultivated over the years of observing them.
He found it so strange that he could dream about people he'd never met before, people who, in all likelihood, didn't even exist. What was that all about? Had he known them in a past life, perhaps? Had he seen them somewhere before, and his subconcious just took the person's face and created a reality for them in his dreams?
Like this one, for example. The details were fuzzy, and the more Jules tried to concentrate on them, the more they eluded him. There had been a blond man, rather large, and the most crude man Jules had ever encountered, either in dreams or in the waking world. Still, he'd felt a kind of comraderie with him, despite the painfully obvious fact that the man was the exact opposite of himself. He recalled that he was rather tactless, sex-obsessed, and not terribly intelligent. But there was something about him that attracted Jules in a non-sexual, purely platonic way. It didn't make any sense, but then, it was a dream.
There were various women, cars, fights, and a red-tailed hawk thrown into the strange mix. What he could remember the best was the part of the dream just before he'd woken up. He'd been driving a car very fast down a dark road. There were other cars, but their headlights were blurry, far-away seeming. It was like they existed on a seperate plane from him and the car, and there was only the road in front of him. He was driving at an incredible speed, it felt so much like flying. He'd never before felt so free. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he jerked the wheel violently to the side, and the car smashed into something. Jules felt the sensation of flying through the windsheild upon impact, but his eyes sprung open before he hit the pavement.
It was so unnerving that Jules decided to forego his plan to venture out, to take the bus to the local aviary, and simply stay at home, where it was safe and there was no sign of surly blond men or fast cars. The trip could be put off till another day. He was so disturbed, so shaken by the realness of the dream that he didn't feel up to doing much of anything other than bird-watching through his livingroom window. He aimed his binoculars at the patch of foliage out in the scant yard and just sat, waiting for the little birds who frequented those shrubs to appear. But they never did.
Puzzled and disappointed, Jules decided to make his bed, and them prepare a light lunch for himself. He'd awoken rather later than usual, and the time for breakfast had alreayd come and gone while he slept. Handling food gave him the idea to go out and sprinkle seeds near the bushes in an attempt to attract birds. He was running out, but there was still enough to scatter some for the birds.
He left his sandwich half-made on the counter and went out with his nearly empty bag of bird seed, whistling softly to himself. The birds at the aviary always seemed to pay attention to him when he whistled, cocking their brightly-coloured heads and ruffling their feathers, as if trying to comprehend where this bird-like sound was coming from, when all that stood before them was this tall man with a notebook. It was really the only place other than his home that he felt truly comfortable. He didn't like going out in public overmuch, only for the bare necessities. When he grocery shopped, he did so in bulk so that he wouldn't have to go out more that was absolutely crucial to his existance. It wasn't that he disliked people, he just preferred birds. Birds never asked him silly questions or made comments about his outfits, his eye, his peculiar behavior. He was often disappointed with his attempts at interaction with other human beings, so he mostly kept to himself these days, living for the birds, as he always had.
Jules had forgotten about his sandwich, and was now sitting in a ricketly lawn chair on his sad excuse for a front porch, his binoculars in his lap, the now empty bag of bird seed sitting beside his chair. He sat back, waiting and reminiscing about one sunny day in his youth when he'd gone out and simply sat in the back yard, perfectly still, with bird seed all over and around him. It was in his hair, on his shoulders, in his lap, and in the grass surrounding his unmoving form. He didn't know how long it took, for he didn't dare move to glance at his wristwatch, but it felt like forever. The sun hung in the sky directly above him, and he'd ended up with quite a burn on his fair cheeks and nose. There was no wind, barely even a breeze on those mid-summer days, to offer relief from the relentless rays. He was nearly alseep, his eyelids having grown heavy from the hot sun and his inactivity, when suddenly, he heard a fluttering of wings and felt a slight weight on the top of his head. The wieght shifted, and he could feel little pecks where he'd sprinkled the seeds. His face errupted into a huge grin. He had to fight to contain his excitement. He didn't want to frighten the bird away.
Soon, more had come, coaxed down from the nearby tree by their companion which sat happily feeding atop his coppery head. One situated itself on either of his shoulders, one on his leg, and a couple more, less daring ones began gingerly pecking at the ground around him. He didn't know what heaven was like, or if there even really was one, but if there was, he imagined it would be something like this. He felt like he was in a Disney movie, and half-expected other forest creatures to come to him, but wasn't disappointed when they didn't. He was perfectly happy then, with the little birds pecking and hopping and chirping sweetly as he sat perfectly still.
After a time, the amount of food dwindled, and the birds grew disinterested and flew away. Jules felt only a little empty when they left, but he was mostly still so happy that he'd been lucky enough for them to come and eat practically out of the palm of his hand.
Jules was startled out of his reverie by a loud bang. Any birds that had been attracted to the bushes immediately fled in alarm. It sounded like it was coming from some ways up the road. He hurried out of his chair and walked down his short gravel drive to the street just in time to see a car limping over to the shoulder. It appeared as though someone had gotten a flat tire. His father had taught him when he was a teenager how to properly change a tire, so, intent on offering his help, he hurried over to the parked car and knocked on the window.
There was a girl in the driver's seat, slumped over the steering wheel. She brought her head up when she heard the knocking, clearly startled by both the noise and the strange appearance of the person standing there. She hesitantly rolled down her window, hoping this guy wasn't as weird as he looked.
"Hello," he said in a voice higher than she would have expected for a man. One of his green eyes was looking at her while the other wandered off to the right. It was unsettling. She tried not to stare at it.
"Hi..." she said, trying not to be completely impolite.
"I was sitting on my porch when I heard what I know now was your tire blowing out, and I thought I would come to investigate. I think that perhaps I could be of some assistance. Do you have a spare and a jack?"
The girl shook her head of dishevled brown hair.
"Oh, dear. Well...I'm afraid that I am, myself, without an automobile, so I've no need of possession of those things. I do, however, have a phone. If you'd like to come in and use it, you may do so."
Warning bells immediately went off in the girl's mind at the seemingly innocent invitation. She'd gone without any kind of trouble from strangers thus far, and she wasn't about to let herself fall victim to some freaky guy with a lazy eye and bad fashion sense this far down the road. She was tempted to speed off and leave the creep standing there, flat tire or no. But she didn't. Her cell phone had died several hundred miles ago and she lacked any place to plug in her charger, or she would just ask him to bring out the phonebook so she could call an auto repair shop. But that wasn't an option. So far, her options were either take this weirdo up on his offer, or just sit there, melting in the sun.
She decided to take her chances with the weirdo.
"Okay. Thanks," she said, opening the door and stepping out onto the warm pavement. The man nodded and smiled. The action reminded her of a bird bobbing its head. Even his nose was rather beak-like. What a dork. She hadn't seen anyone so awkwardly built since highschool. He was tall and lanky, and his movements were rather odd, though he carried himself surprisingly well for being as gangly as he was. She wasn't exactly a small girl, herself, and as she followed the strange man up to his house, she made herself feel better by reassuring herself that, if need be, she could kick his ass fairly easily. This thought and it alone would have to compensate for the can of pepperspray that she didn't have.
"So, do you reside in this area?"
She shook her mop of dark hair, not wishing to encourage any conversation unless it was absoultely necessary.
"Where are you from, then?" he pressed.
She wanted to ask why it mattered, but decided that, for the moment, she would be nice.
"Nevada. North-eastern corner."
"I see. That's quite a distance from here, isn't it? Their state bird, if memory serves, is the mountain bluebird...i-is that correct?"
She shrugged. Why the hell would she know that? They taught kids things like that in elementary school, but she'd barely been able to retain any knowledge from highschool, and that had only been four years ago. What she'd learned in school wasn't really what had been taught, anyway.
The house was small, single-level, and in some serious need of painting. She tried not to be too judgemental, but this decrepit dwelling combined with his odball way of dressing and talking was a little off-putting to her. Whatever. She'd just use his phone, get a tire from somewhere, have him change it for her (it would be way too expensive to get it done professionally, and he'd already offered his services), and she'd be on her not-so-merry way.
"Well, here is the phone, and the accompanying book where you can find what you're looking for, hopefully," he said, holding out an olive-drab phone with a thick, spiralling chord out to her in one hand, and the phonebook in the other. She took it both of them and sat down in a nearby chair, opening the book onto her lap and paging through it. She didn't bother asking him to reccommend anything to her, since he'd already clarified that he didn't own a car.
She dialed the number of the first auto service came across. The line was busy. She waited a while, scanning the page for other places, but there only seemed to be the one. After about five minutes of pretending to study the pages, she tried again. A man answered in an unpleasant, irritated voice. She hated when places treated their customers like they were some kind of inconvenience, like they weren't getting paid to service people. She'd had days like that, herself, where she just hadn't wanted to deal with anyone, but she'd always been good at forcing a smile and being very obliging. Always, until all the crap with Jason had started. Then she'd just kind of let herself go. It had been just the push she needed. She packed all that she could fit into her car, cashed her severance check and left town.
"Hello?"
"Oh, sorry," she said, apparently having gotten lost in her thoughts. She did that a lot, lately. "I was wondering if someone could come out and bring me a tire."
"What's the make and model of the vehicle?"
"Uh...it's a '95 Toyota...Camry."
"Will you be needing someone to change the tire?"
"No, I can do that, I just need the tire. And a jack."
"Well, we don't loan out equipment, but we can have someone change the tire for you." She rolled her eyes. Why did things always have to be so complicated?
"Where are you located?" She asked Jules for the address and repeated his answer into the phone.
"That's pretty far out there," the man replied. "And we're very busy so, it'll take about...four hours to get out there."
"Four hours?" she replied incredulously. "That's...that's fucking ridiculous." It was a good thing she was here in this house, and not simply sitting around in her car waiting. Maybe. She wasn't sure if she'd prefer sweltering solitude of the car or this strange man's company.
"It's the best we can do, miss."
"Fine," she said after a pause. "How much will that be?"
Too much. Way too much. More than she had to spare. Maybe more than she had, at all. She wasn't exactly sure.
Frustrated and disgusted, she slammed down the phone into the cradle, making Jules jump.
"So...uh, I could probably discern from your disposition that the results of the conversaition were not terribly satisfactory. Still, I must satisfy my curiosity by asking...what happened?"
"It's too expensive..." She let the phonebook slide from her lap and land on the floor with a thud. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't afford to get the car towed anywhere, either. Driving it any significant distance was out of the question. It would be terrible for the wheel and would seriously mess up the alignment. She hadn't been entirely prepared when she'd decided to get up and go. She'd been sleeping in her car to save money she otherwise would have spent on hotels. Food and gas was using up most of her money. She was almost at her destination, but at this rate, when she got there, she would be completely broke. What good was that?
She buried her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her wind-tangled hair.
"Fuck," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She wanted to scream and throw a tantrum, but, out of courtesy for the man and his things, she decided to keep a lid on her anger, hoping that it wouldn't boil over.
"I..I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do. I'm not especially well off, financially, or I would..."
"Don't worry about it, it's not your problem," she said, standing abruptly and causing the chair to scrape unpleasantly against the worn wooden floor.
"Yes, but... Where are you going?" Jules asked, following the girl as she walked briskly toward the door.
"I don't know," the girl wailed, turning suddenly and landing in a slump against the wall beside the door. "I don't know," she repeated, her voice choked by the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
Jules wasn't sure what to do. He felt sorry for the girl, but it was clear that he couldn't do anything to help her. He stood there, a few feet away from her, clenching and un-clenching his fists as he watched her fall apart in his doorway. Should he comfort her? Should he try to distract her? He didn't know.
Eventually, she stirred from her puddle of misery, fished in her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She was going to smoke in his house. He opened his mouth to protest, but didn't have the heart to deprive the poor girl of that simple comfort. At least they were by the door, and it was open. He just hoped the smell wouldn't linger. It suddenly occurred to him, as he watched the cherry on the end of her cigarette grow, that she would need something to catch the ashes, and was somewhat dismayed when he realized that she'd intended to simply ash on his floor. But she was distraught. Things like consideration for other people and their property were probably the furthest from her mind. After some thought, he went into the kitchen, brought out a dinner plate and set it gently on the floor beside her. That would have to do. He would just be sure to wash it very well before he used it again. She didn't give any indication that any change had been made, though she did use the plate as he'd intended her to. He was greatful for that.
After what seemed like ages of awkard silence, broken only by the sound of her sniffling and exhaling smoke, Jules got the idea to offer his guest something to drink.
"What?" she asked, looking tearily up at him.
"I asked if you would like some lemonade. It's fresh. I just made it, last night."
The girl sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Sure."
"Alright, good. Oh, and, here you go," he said, taking a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and offering it to her.
"Thanks," she said, taking it and blowing her nose loudly while Jules left to go get her drink. He seemed like a pretty nice guy. Still, she wasn't completely convinced that he wasn't some kind of murderer or rapist. She wasn't very good at trusting people, these days, but she didn't have much of a choice, now. She felt slightly less on the edge now that she'd smoked, but she was still far from being "okay".
Jules returned moments later with a full glass of cloudy yellowish liquid, a solitary cube of ice clinking against the glass as he bent to give it to her.
"Thanks," she said again through a puff of blue-grey smoke, though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to drink it. It looked like that fresh-squeezed stuff which in her experience had always been too sour. Still, her throat was dry from so much crying and smoking, and she didn't want to seem ungrateful. She took a tentative swallow. It wasn't too bad. It could have used a bit more sugar, but she wasn't going seem rude by mentioning anything.
"I...hope it's not too sour. My tastebuds seem to be slightly out of order when it comes to certain tastes. I think sour is one of them. What tastes a certain way to me is likely to taste a completely differently to someone else."
"It's fine."
"Oh, good. Uh. Would you care for anything to eat?"
"No, that's okay." She was starving, but she hated being a bother to other people. It made her feel childish and weak. She spent most of her time and energy trying to prove to people, and to herself, that she was the opposite of those things.
"Are you certain? I can make you a sandwich or something similar without any inconvenience."
She thought about it. Her stomach hurt from being so empty. The acid in the lemonade was only making it worse.
"If you would...?"
"Sure. Of course. What would you like it to consist of?"
"Well...you don't have to make it for me. I'd prefer to do it myself. You could just like, set out all the stuff on the counter and I'll get what I want."
"Ah, like a buffet."
"Yeah, I guess," she said and crushed out her cigarette on the plate.
"Very good," he said and made for the kitchen a little too enthusiastically for the girl's tastes. He was definitely strange, though he seemed pretty harmless. She stood on wobbly legs and followed him, clutching the sweating glass of lemonade in one hand.
"It has just occurred to me that we've not been properly introduced," Jules announced as he pulled plasitc baggies of meat and cheese from a compartment in his fridge. He'd been so flustered by the girl's sudden arrival and subsequent breakdown that he'd forgotten all about introduction. He set the items down on the counter beside his own unfinished sandwich and offered his hand to the girl. "I'm Jules Langdon. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance...even under such unfortuitous circumstances as have befallen you."
"Julie," the girl said, using the hand not holding the lemonade to weakly grasp Jules' and shake it once before dropping it like something she didn't want to touch. She was still reeling from the mouthful he'd just thrown her way when he spoke again.
"Haha, what a coincidence. Jules and Julie...interesting." Julie could only nod and think, iSo what? It's not like we're dating or getting married or something./i
"Here are all the materials you'll require for constructing your sandwich. If you need anything, don't hesitate to make an inquiry."
She nodded slowly and took another sip from her glass, wishing it contained something alcoholic. This guy was a trip. Why did he talk like some kind of robot? His vocabulary and the way he always took the longest, most verbose way possible to say even the simplest of things reminded her of that pale guy with the contacts on iStar Trek: The Next Generation/i. He acted like he'd swallowed a dictionary or something. She was torn between being impressed and confused. She decided on being vaguely intriegued, but at a safe distance.
Jules wedged his narrow hips into the sharp angle where the counter top met the sink and simply watched as the girl, Julie, made her sandwich. He had questions that he wanted to ask her, topics he would like to discuss with her, but was hesitant to do so, as she'd displayed a rather stand-offish and indifferent attitude towards him since they met. Still, most people treated him that way, so he didn't hold it against her. And she was in a bad mood, besides. Maybe she wasn't opposed to conversation, just not sure what to talk about with him. He could understand that. He decided to try initiating a conversation, hoping that he wouldn't mention anything that would cause a repeat of what had happened in the doorway.
"So..." he began slowly, choosing the words carefully in his head before letting them exit his mouth. "What brings you down to this end of the West Coast?"
All he received in response was a shrug as Julie slathered mayonnaise onto a piece of bread, obviously not wishing to discuss it.
Jules bit his lower lip and looked down, searching for something else to say. He hadn't tried this hard to socialize with another person in a very long time, and would have just not bothered, except he wasn't too sanguine on the idea of sitting in complete silence with her. Some people were just hard to reach, until you struck a chord. For him, that chord was birds. He wondered what it was for her? He studied her closely, hoping to find something that would clue him into her personality, her interests, something that she would talk to him about, but found nothing. He couldn't even compliment her on anything without seeming lewd. Her clothing was nothing spectacular. Her jeans were faded and torn at the knees, her shoes were new-looking but dusty, and her t-shirt was black and form-fitting. A little too tight, in his opinion. She wasn't unpleasantly proportioned, but her love-handles would have been easily concealed had her clothing been just a little baggier. Jules wasn't really one to comment on anyone's fashion sense. He knew that people liked what they liked, and it was their business. Still, he thought it was a shame when pretty girls wore unflattering clothing.
"What's your favourite kind of cheese? I'm rather partial to provelogne, myself. It doesn't always have a very pleasant odor, but the taste more than compensates, I feel." He knew it would probalby sound fairly random, and he didn't really care, but he just wanted isomething/i to fill the silence. At least it was kind of related to what she was doing.
"I dunno...cheddar I guess."
"Oh. I'm sorry I don't have that."
"No, this is fine."
More silence.
When she was finished assembling her sandwich, she turned around and leaned back against the counter and began eating it. Jules watched intently, noticing how she was taking very big bites, chewing them quickly and swallowing, barely pausing between bites. She was obviously very hungry and yet, when he'd first offered to make her something to eat, she'd refused. Sometimes she would take a sip of lemonade before taking another bite to wash the food down. When she was nearly finished eating, she noticed that he was staring at her and called him on it, making him immediately embarrassed and apologetic.
"I'm simply interested in eating habits," he tried to explain. "How they differ from person to person...the duration between bites and how long the process of mastication lasts...it's fascinating to me."
"Oh-kay," she said, tempted to face the other way to finish her sandwich. She definitely didn't appreciate being scrutinized, especially not by weird people. She hoped that when he said "interested" he didn't mean that it was some kind of fetish of his. Her eyes flicked to his crotch, just to be sure. She couldn't see any evidence of an erection beneath the tan and black houndstooth, and was satisfied. For the time being.
Once he'd mostly gotten over his shame, he continued to watch her as she ate, though not so closely as before, lest he be caught again. She had a pleasant face. It wasn't anything remarkable, but she was fairly attractive. She wasn't wearing any make-up, and her complexion wasn't the best in some areas of her face, but Jules preferred that look to some of the girls he saw that caked make-up on so that they looked like prostitutes. Her skin wasn't pale, but it wasn't quite tan either. The only things that stood out from the rest of her rather nondescript appearance were the piercings, three in each ear and one in her lip.
"Uh, were those at all painful to receive?"
She looked at him uncomprehendingly, and only understood what he meant after he touched his own ear and lip.
"Oh. The ears weren't really, but they take a really long time to heal. And I sleep on my sides, so it gets really annoying. But my lip hurt like a bitch."
"I would imagine so. It's a very tender part of the body. Well, so are the ears, of course, but there are far more nerve endings in the lips..." he said, trailing off as he often did at the ends of his sentences.
"Yeah well, it probably wouldn't have hurt as much if I'd been expecting more pain, but I went into it with the attitude of "it'll probably be like my ears", but it wasn't. So it hurt more. It was--"
"Psychosomatic."
"Right." That iwas/i the word she was going to use, if he'd given her the time to say it. He seemed like an otherwise polite guy, she didn't know why he'd interrupted her like that. She studied him for a while, his expression and mannerisms, and decided that perhaps it was because he was simply excited to be talking to her. He probably didn't get out much, but she couldn't just naturally assume that. Maybe he had a D&D group, or something equally dorky. But something told her that he didn't really have any friends, and that the simple fact that she'd agreed to talk to him wasn't something to be taken lightly. It was kind of endearing, in a pathetic sort of way.
"So, it got infected, and I had to clean it at least twice a day, but I was paranoid of it getting really bad so I cleaned it pretty compulsively. Eventually it just got better, and I don't even really have to clean it, anymore."
"That's fortunate." He wasn't really sure what else to say, never having had anything pierced, himself. He was afriad that his time with her (and who knew how long that would be) would be one dead-end topic after another. He wished he weren't so socially inept; something that rarely bothered him, but was now brought into sharp relief by the girl leanding against his counter.
"I don't mean to pry into personal matters, but how do you intend to solve this particular predicament?"
Julie blinked. She had been trying not to think about it, because she really had no fucking clue.
She shook her head slowly and took her cigarettes out again. This time, there was no ventilation such as there had been by the door, and he had to say something.
"Pardon me...but, I would prefer that you not smoke in the house. The only reason I didn't object earlier is because you were right beside the open door."
"It's cool, you should have just said something if you don't want me to smoke in your house," she said, a cigarette dangling from her lips as she walked out of the kitchen and towards the front door.
"I did just say something..." Jules mumbled under his breath as he followed her. He'd completely forgotten about his sandwich, by now.
The girl settled herself as best she could into the old chair on the porch and lit up. Jules stood in the doorway, watching silently, wondering what was going through her head. He was curious and wanted to ask her, but ultimately thought better of it. She seemed like a pretty private person, and he wanted to respect that as best as his naturally inquisitive nature would allow.
She was really fucked, now. She hadn't even considered that this was a possibility. She hadn't actually considered much as she was rushing out the door of the apartment she and her now ex-boyfriend had shared. She just knew that she needed to get the fuck out. She'd always wanted to go to San Fransisco more than anywhere else in the states, and now was her chance. The fact that she had very limited funds and no spare tire hadn't even crossed her mind. She cursed herself for being so stupid and impulsive. She usually wasn't. She usually considered things very carefully, weighing the pro's and con's before making a decision. This time she hadn't, and now she was fucked.
She supposed it could be worse. Though he was strange, Jules wasn't as creepy or gross as he could be. And he seemed pretty young, and not at all perverted. Rather gentlemanly, really. You could never really tell with these types, what exactly was going on in their heads, but at least he was polite, generous and kind. He didn't seem to want anything in return for his kindness, which was always a plus. He genuinely seemed to enjoy conversing with her, though they didn't really have much to say to each other.
Yes, things could definitely have been worse, but that didn't make her feel any better. She still had no idea how she was going to get a new tire. She didn't really have any ways of making money, or at least none that she would let herself do. Though she pretty much hated herself lately, she still had enough self-respect not to resort to sundry ways of obtaining money. She hoped things would never come to that.
Maybe going to San Fran wasn't such a good idea, after all. If she got there and things hadn't improved, she thought it was rather likely that she'd just end up jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Maybe she should just scrap the whole idea and call her mom. Her mom was always very sympathetic toward her only child, and probably wouldn't mind the idea of Julie moving back in for a while, at least until she could get back on her feet. But she couldn't bring herself to make the call, not now. She was ashamed of letting herself be played, of getting herself fired, of being so stupid and making this trip, at all. On top of that, she really didn't want to inconvenience her mom, who would have to drive all the way out to get her. That just wasn't something Julie wanted to deal with, no matter how understanding her mom could be. She knew what it was like to feel used, and she hated the idea of doing it to anyone else.
She took a long drag on her cigarette and threw a glance over her shoulder at Jules, who was still standing in the doorway. His head snapped up and he looked straight ahead when he saw her look at him, and she smiled. She knew he'd been looking at her. She wondered exactly what he was looking at. She was curious, but didn't think it was her place to ask. She always hated when people asked her what she was thinking. It was her own damn business, and if she chose to share it, that was her deal. Sometimes, silence spoke louder than words. She was pretty sure that this guy knew and respected that.
"How long have you been living here?" she asked, figuring she may as well strike up some kind of conversation. She wanted to get her mind off of her myriad problems.
"Well, not in this specific residence, no. But in this general vacinity, yes. I've never been outside state borders."
"I didn't really go much of anywhere until recently. I was sick of feeling stuck in the same place. I was afraid to leave for a really long time, but eventually I just said "fuck it", spread my wings and took off."
Jules smiled at the analogy, but she didn't notice.
"Yeah, and here I am," she said, her tone suddenly turning sour. "But whatever. Change is good, right?"
"I don't know. That's what they say, but I don't usually prefer to make any change. I'm relatively content remaining fairly stationary the majority of the time."
"Not everyone has a wanderlust. Even fewer people ever actually act on it, if they do have it. I guess I should be proud that I finally did it, or something."
"Certainly," he said, not acknowledging the note of sarcasm in her words. "It sounds as though it had been a bit of a problem for you before you decided to embrace your freedom. Are you simply letting the wind blow you where it will, or did you have a set destination in mind?"
"The latter," she replied, trying to show that she had some book-learning as well, even if it wasn't so extensive as his. "I wanted to go to San Fransico."
"Interesting. I've never been there, myself, but I've heard very interesting things about it."
"Yeah, same here." Her cigarette was nearly gone. How sad. This brand was infamous for its supposed longevity, but she hadn't noticed any difference between them and regular cigarettes. Maybe her sense of time was just whacked, lately.
"I'm actually thinking of becoming a lesbian. I hear there's a huge gay community in San Fran."
"Uh, you believe that it's possible to simply change one's sexual preference at will? Because if this is so, I must disagree."
"I was kind of joking. I don't believe that, at all. People who do are ignorant. No, I'm mostly straight, though I've been with girls before. I just think that I'm through with men, at least for a while. I'm sick of their bullshit."
"I see. You sound as if you've had a particularly unpleasant experience with a member of the opposite sex, recently."
"I'd say so," she said, stubbing out her cigarette on the grey wood of the porch and taking another one from her purse. She had a full pack in the glove compartment, so she was being particularly generous to herself. Or cruel, depending on the way you looked at it. Either way, she felt like satisfying her oral fixation-combination-nicotene addiction, and she could afford to do so, so she did.
"Would you care to elaborate? I don't presume to be intrusive, I simply wish to inform you that I wouldn't object to listening to anything you'd like to impart."
iYou could've just said, "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen." Silly./i
"I'm not sure," she replied. She hadn't talked to anyone about Jason yet, and wasn't confidant in her abilities to do so without breaking down, which was not something she wanted to do again.
"Very well. Just don't hesitate to bring it up in future converstation. I really don't mind."
"Okay. Thanks."
She decided that was enough talking for now. She leaned back and just smoked and looked around the yard, if it could even be called that. The road wasn't too busy, which was good. She didn't have to worry too much about someone trying to steal her stuff or her car getting wrecked. She counted approximately two cars about every five minutes or so, she couldn't really tell. It was nice and cool in the shade, and every once in a while, a pleasant breeze washed over her, ruffling her messy hair. She reached up and satisfied an itch on her head and was disgusted by how greasy her fingers felt, afterwards. She was filthy. She hadn't had a proper shower since she'd left home. She'd been washing her hair in public bathrooms. It was unsatisfactory, to say the least.
"Um..." she began, really hating what she was about to ask but not enough not to ask it. "I'm really dirty. Do you think I could take a shower or a bath, if it wouldn't be too much trouble?"
Jules blinked. No one had ever used his shower before but him, and especially no one female. Naturally, his mind began to wander against his will. He began picturing her naked body, covered in soap, the water from the spout hitting her in all the right places. He'd never seen a naked girl, before, not in real life. He never really watched movies or anything, so it was a very rare occassion indeed when he came across the female form au naturale. It was mostly in art, which he didn't find so much arousing as it was beautiful. Yet, as these thoughts rushed uninvited into his head, he felt himself growing warm. His collar seemed to become tighter, and he felt a strange sensation in his nether regions.
"Hello...?"
Her voice snapped him out of his fantasy and he felt his cheeks flush crimson. "I'm sorry," he said, mentally kicking himself for even allowing the presence of such unwholesome thoughts in his mind. "That would be fine."
"Awesome. I'm gonna go get a change of clothes and my toiletries from my car."
"Alright..."
He took a few deep breaths and braced himself against the splintered doorframe to try and calm himself. Feelings such as these hadn't really plagued him since puberty, and he had no desire for them to suddenly return. He refused to let himself further objectify poor Julie, even if it was only in the privacy of his mind. It was wrong. If he allowed these thoughts to continue, she would likely begin to sense it, and would probably want to leave. Jules didn't want her to leave. He hadn't experienced the company of another human being in such a long time. It was nice, and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it.
Due to the content in the next chapter, I'm not allowed to post it here (bow-chicka-bow-wow!) so, here's a link to the second part:
http://community. crispinglover/ 278940.html#cutid1 (remember to omit the spaces)