This story will be either two or three parts. I have posted a picture of "my" Emily on my tumblr.
…
He was gone for two weeks before he appeared again.
He went to sit down on his usual stool and by the time he got there, she was already placing his usual Coke down. He looked at her and she wasn't sure why but she lingered for a moment longer than she would have. She normally got away from him as quickly as she could whenever he was there.
"Cheesecake?" She asked even though that was what he always got and it never changed.
He grunted and didn't say anything and she went to go get him a slice.
It was just the two of them in the diner that night and she did her best to keep her heart from beating so hard. It was okay. He had been coming here for months and he had yet to do anything. He just sat there and ate his cheesecake and always left her a generous tip. And beat up her boyfriend because he had slapped her. She had never brought that up to him and she knew he certainly wasn't going to talk about it. She still didn't know how he had even found Justin and why it had mattered to him so much that he had beat him so badly as if in a retaliation of sorts, Justin had nearly had to make a trip to the hospital.
She actually didn't know if it was Happy who had beat him so severely and yet, she didn't really have to ask. She just knew. Who else could it have been?
She set the plate down in front of him. "Anything else?" She asked.
He shook his head, already reaching for his fork, and she went back to her anatomy textbook open on the opposite counter. The only sounds were his fork clanking softly against the plate and the sound of the motor in the soda fountain kicking on. She would glance over every few minutes and when she saw his drink almost empty, she went and got him a refill, placing it down in front of him and taking his other glass away, putting it in the bin for dirty dishes.
When he was finished, he dropped his fork on the plate, alerting it to her, and she left her book to come back to him.
"Anything else?" She asked, taking the plate.
He shook his head, standing up. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ten as he always did and handed it to her. She wasn't sure why she did but she hesitated for just a moment before taking it from him, giving him a slight nod of her head. He didn't say anything and without even another look, he turned and left.
And as always, when he was gone, she felt as if she could breathe a little easier.
…
He wasn't a very handsome man – at least in her opinion. She could imagine that there were girls who probably though she was nuts; the girls attracted to the biker types. She had never been one of them. She supposed she liked "pretty" boys, the sort who worked at a store who hired their employees simply based on their looks. They weren't the brightest bulbs. She and Justin didn't have anything in common but at least the mere sight of Justin didn't terrify her.
Happy was older than her, probably pushing forty if not already. He had a shaved head and his body was absolutely covered in tattoos. He even had a few on his scalp. There had been a time when she had thought of getting a tattoo – just something small where few people would ever see – but for wanting to be a nurse, the idea of having so much contact with a needle on her skin freaked her out a bit.
She was his complete opposite in every way. Short and pale and just twenty.
One night, her friend, Natalie, came to the diner and Happy just happened to be there. After he left, she nearly gushed for an hour about how hot he was and how she would give her right arm to ride on the back of his bike.
She hadn't said anything; hadn't agreed with a word said about him.
"Don't you think he's scary?" She asked.
"Totally," Natalie than said, letting out a dreamy sigh.
…
Her shift ended just after dawn and with her first class at ten, she was able to go home and sleep for a few hours. She ran on fumes most days but she was used to it.
Her car had been giving her trouble and she had left it at the nearby auto garage, leaving her to take the bus for a few days. After her shift, she stood at the bus stop at the street corner, tightening her coat around herself as she waited. She heard a roar of a motorcycle coming up the street and she felt her heart pause in her throat. He hadn't come into the diner during her shift that night and she knew he wasn't the only person to own a motorcycle in the world and yet, she knew it was him.
She quickly turned her head, looking up the street, praying the bus would suddenly arrive before the motorcycle could get there but it was so close now and then it started to slow down.
She sighed softly to herself and turned her head to see that it was indeed him, sitting there astride his motorcycle beside the curb, his dark eyes staring at her. His eyes were what scared her more than anything. She had never seen such cold, dark eyes before and even if he had never been cruel to her directly, they still made her think that he was an evil man.
"What are you doing?" He asked her with a frown.
"Clearly just standing here," she retorted, not sure why she had made herself sassy to him of all people.
He stared at her, clearly not amused. "Isn't safe," he said.
She shrugged, not responding.
"Get on," he then all but ordered to her.
She could feel her eyes widen as she looked at him. "No way."
"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said and he sounded as if he was losing patience with her; as if he had any towards her to begin with. He then looked at her as she looked at him, her arms crossed over herself, as if hugging and protecting herself from him. He sighed then and his hand twisted one of the handles, the bike revving. "It's not safe," he then said, his eyes penetrating hers.
She knew he was telling her something without actually telling her anything. There was a reason he had told her twice now that it wasn't safe. Not safe for who? She had lived here her whole life and had never felt overly unsafe at any time. He was staring at her and she stared back and she felt her throat grow dry. Even around him, he scared the crap out of her and yet, she knew that he wouldn't harm her. She didn't know how she knew that yet it was something she didn't question. He had been coming to the diner for months and after the initial first few times, even with her nerves around him never dying down, he knew he wouldn't hurt her.
"You don't have a helmet," she heard herself blurt out.
Without a word, he took the helmet from his head and handed it out to her. She frowned. That wasn't exactly what she meant but she found herself reaching for it. It was as if she no longer had any control over her body and she didn't understand what she was doing. She always tried her hardest to keep her distance from him and now, she was about to climb onto his motorcycle and tell him where she lived?
Again, she looked up to the street, hoping the bus would arrive and rescue her. Instead, there was a roar of a motorcycle in the distance and he whipped his head around at the sound, eyes studying the direction where the sound had come from through slightly narrowed eyes. He then looked at her.
"Get on," he growled.
She shivered but she didn't protest further. Something told her that she should be more frightened of the nearing motorcycle than of him right now.
She had never been on a motorcycle and she wasn't sure what to do but she straddled the seat behind him as she fastened the helmet tightly on her head, trying not to look down at the pavement and think of how nothing was there to protect her if they crashed.
He revved the bike again and she knew what he was waiting for her to do. Hesitantly, she sat a bit closer behind him and slid her arms around his waist. He was a hard body, all muscle, and he smelled like cigarette smoke. The instant he felt her holding onto him, he took off, shooting like a bullet flying from a gun, and she instantly snapped her eyes shut, her arms reflexively tightening around his waist.
She felt the wind against her face and whistling in her ears and with her eyes closed, she felt like she was flying. She only realized after they had been riding for a few minutes that she hadn't told him where she lived and he had no idea where to take her. When he stopped them at a red light, she shifted behind him.
"Dover Street!" She shouted into his ear and he nodded, taking off again when the light turned green and her arms tightened once more.
When the bike stopped for a second time, she opened her eyes and saw they were at the corner of Dover Street. She didn't give him her address. She didn't want him to know specifically where she lived. She climbed off the bike, her legs unsteady for a moment, and she stood there, allowing herself to get right with the world again. She took off the helmet and handed it back to him.
She looked at him and he looked at her but she didn't wait for an explanation. He wasn't going to give one. She knew that. Without a word, she turned and began walking up the sidewalk and she didn't look back when she heard the motorcycle rev to life again before he shot down the street.
…
Three months later, he came in and she was already setting his Coke and cheesecake down at his stool when he entered, she having heard his motorcycle approaching.
He glanced at her as he sat down but then he picked up his fork and began eating without a word. When she brought him his second Coke, she noticed that the patch that had said "Nomad" had been replaced with one that said "Charming". She said nothing about it. It wasn't any of her business and she didn't really care.
But as he was leaving, coming to hand her his money for the bill, she looked up from her Physical Examination and Health Assessment textbook.
"So, you're in Charming now?" She asked and he looked at her as if he wondered how the hell she knew that. She pointed to his patch. "You're not a Nomad anymore? Whatever the hell that means."
He grunted what she assumed was a reply.
"Guess that means you won't be coming around here that much anymore," she said.
He stared at her for a moment and she stood there, wondering why she had just said that to him. He didn't say anything and the more he stared, the more she wanted to take a few steps back from him. Her stomach knotted a little and she wondered if it was too late to apologize – for what, she didn't know but she could imagine she wasn't the first one to apologize to him for no reason.
But then, he broke out into a smirk but his relaxed stance only made her more nervous. He shook his head slightly at her and dropped his ten dollar bill onto the open pages of her book.
"You'd like that," he stated.
"Yes," she said, seeing no point in lying to him, not caring that he might do something to her but she was never the sort of person to lie.
"Tough luck for you then," he said, his dark eyes penetrating into her, the smirk staying in place. "I like the cheesecake here."
"No one likes the cheesecake," she shook her head.
"Maybe I like looking at your sweet ass then every time you run away from me," he said. "Emily," he then said her name and her back stiffened.
He had never said her name before and it sounded so rough coming past his lips. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood ramrod, her heart beating wildly in her chest as they stared at one another.
"How's that boyfriend of yours?" He then asked.
Somehow, her back stiffened even more.
He just kept smirking and even when he left, leaving her alone, she still felt like she couldn't breathe.
…
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