"For the Love of Jasper" One-Shot Contest
Title: More Than A Feeling
Pen name: Profmom72
Existing work: (Title of work or "N/A"): N/A
Primary Players: Jasper/Alice
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters.
To see other entries in the "For the Love of Jasper" contest, please visit the C2:
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/For_the_Love_of_Jasper_Contest/72564/
I would rather trust a woman's instinct than a man's reason
-Stanley Baldwin
"Oh come on, Jasper," Peter begged. "You haven't gone out in weeks. Charlotte's out of town. Come have a few drinks with me."
Jasper tapped his pen urgently on his desk. He knew Peter meant well, but going out simply didn't interest him. Though Peter tried to steer clear of the topic of his girlfriend, sometimes it just slipped out. It was the nature of casual conversation. These days, it didn't take much for any talk of love to put Jasper in a bad mood.
He glanced at his calendar as Peter continued his persuasive tactics. Whether it was to get him off his back or because he really needed a break, he finally interrupted. "Fine. I'll go, but you're buying."
Jasper pulled a file off the stack on his desk. His next patient was a young man who believed he could read peoples' minds. Jasper shook his head. The patient was an otherwise high functioning, very successful man, but his belief that he always knew what people thought left him emotionally stunted and unable to develop serious relationships.
In his line of work, the ability to read minds would probably come in handy. On many occasions, Jasper wished he could just jump into his patients' heads for a second to better know how to treat them. And contrary to this patient's philosophy, he wished he'd had that ability with his ex-wife. Maybe, things would have been different if he could have just figured out how to make her happy.
As a psychologist, he should have known better. He'd assumed that he'd learned enough to make any relationship work. He never thought divorce would be an option for him. The way that Maria sought him out should have been warning. She was so aggressive. Within months, she'd taken over his whole life, making all decisions for him from what to wear to who he should socialize with. He didn't protest. He hadn't wanted to. He loved her and was more than willing to change for her. He woke up one morning and caught sight of himself in the mirror. It had been years since he'd taken the time to look. The image that greeted him was startling. It wasn't the haircut or the goatee; he couldn't put his finger on it.
He snuck down to the basement where all of his old pictures and mementos were housed—way in the back in dilapidated cardboard boxes. The pieces of the man he'd thought he was were stacked neatly, but when he opened the first one, he saw that the stacks were a façade. They were as much a mess on the inside as he was. He'd been in such a hurry to pack his things that he hadn't bothered to organize them. It took him almost an hour to find the pictures. He carried a few back up to his bathroom to compare. The side by side images of the mirror and the picture revealed that the change wasn't physical. It was internal. He could see it around his eyes.
He made changes slowly, calling his friends, making plans with his family for Thanksgiving, buying a pair of Levi's from a thrift store. He just wanted to feel like himself again. He assumed his wife would love him unconditionally, would accept him even without the uncomfortable clothes and the strange facial hair. Maria did not go gently into that good night. She fought him every step of the way, tightening the reigns. They fought in ways Jasper didn't think a man of his intellect or experience was capable of doing—yelling, playing dirty, kitchen-sinking, throwing things.
He tried. Longer than he would have advised any patient to try. Too long for there to be no lasting damage.
In the end, he had to drag himself away from a love that was just too volatile to survive. To get as far away as possible, he got in his car and drove up to see Peter in Philadelphia. They'd been friends since college, and Peter had been trying to convince Jasper to visit for years. He never left. He decided a clean break was what he needed. Whether it was luck or fate, someone was retiring at a local private practice group, and he was employed within a few weeks. He fit right in; even Peter's friends welcomed him to the fold.
Now Peter's friends, who had become his friends, tried to set him up a new woman every week. Told him a year was long enough. It was time to move on, but he wasn't ready to risk giving up any part of himself again when he was just figuring out who he wanted to be. He begged off on many invitations because it was a reminder or because he thought there was an ulterior motive, but he was actually looking forward to a night with Peter.
True to his word, Peter didn't let Jasper pay for a single round all night. They plowed through two pitchers, countless rounds of Cricket on an antiquated dartboard, and hours of conversation about music, movies, and television—safe subjects.
He's promised himself they would leave early. Around midnight he thought they should leave, but Peter laughed him off. "It's way too early, old man."
"I'm kind of hungry. Maybe we could hit an all night diner or something."
"Wuss. I'll go grab you a bag of chips or something."
He came back with another pitcher, and Jasper didn't have the heart to refuse him a final round of darts. He'd always been sensitive to others like that—it was probably why he'd let himself fall into Maria's web.
An hour later, Jasper felt good. It was the perfect buzz. Just drunk enough to have a good time, but he knew a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water would prevent a hangover. That's when he knew it was time to leave. They began the walk back toward Peter's loft. Peter had offered to let Jasper crash so neither of them had to worry about driving.
They were still laughing, and Jasper was feeling grateful that there had been no talk about "moving on" or "when are you going to get over her" when he saw the blinking sign of a café. Half of the lights were burnt out, but the ones that remained created a flashing yellow arrow pointing right at the building. The place was clearly a dive, but they were always good for middle of the night breakfast.
"Feel like stopping?" Jasper nudged Peter and motioned toward the restaurant.
"Are they still open?"
"Light's on."
As it turned out, someone must have forgotten to turn off the outside sign, because when they got closer, all of the interior lights were off. Chairs were stacked on top of tables. Inexplicably, Jasper's pace slowed. Peter followed suit, though neither of them knew why. Almost imperceptibly, Jasper steered closer to the front door, and when he got there, he suddenly stopped.
"What's up?" Peter asked.
"I don't know. A little bummed. I could really go for some eggs right now," Jasper said. He glanced at the door, feeling more dejected that he would have expected. There was a small sign near the handle that said, "Hours." He squinted and noticed that the place had closed at one. He exhaled as if he hoped the breath would clear the haze of disappointment that had settled in the air.
"I've got eggs at the loft. I can whip them up. No need to get emo about it," Peter teased.
Jasper shifted his gaze back to his friend, and they began to walk away.
"Sure. That would be great." He kept looking back while they waited at the cross walk. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, but he could help but think if they had just left when he thought they should, they would have made it in time. For some reason, he had a feeling he really would have liked those eggs.
The light was taking too long to turn, so Peter jabbed Jasper and suggested motioned for them to cross without the walk sign. It wasn't a busy street, so Jasper shrugged. They were halfway through the crosswalk when a car came barreling from the alley behind the restaurant. It swerved sharply to avoid them as they began to run for the other side. Peter flipped the driver off, and Jasper yelled, "Watch where you're going!"
"Fuck you!" the woman in the car yelled not really to the men on the street, more to the world in general.
Alice kept her composure has she skimmed past them. She kept her speed up despite being scared shitless until she was two blocks away, well out of eye sight. Then she made a quick turn and pulled off to the side of the road. Her heart was pounding. She could feel its effects in her fingers as the gripped the steering wheel. The pulsing was almost soothing. She took deep calming breaths.
She couldn't believe she'd been so distracted she almost hit two people. It didn't matter if the light was green, she should have seen them. She felt completely turned around and mixed up all for what? A feeling she had when she got up this morning? A blip in her horoscope telling her something big was coming today? One of these days she had to learn to stop reading the horoscope and checking her numerology every morning. Sooner or later, she'd figure out that listening to these "feelings" of hers wasn't worth it. After all, where had they gotten her so far? She was no fortune teller, no matter how many times she pulled out the tarot cards. She didn't have to look any farther than her own life to know that was true.
She had been convinced she was supposed to be a cosmetologist—had visions of herself as the next great makeup artist to the stars, but a year at the makeup counter at the mall was enough to convince her she needed something else. So she went back to school to be an esthetician, figuring adding the science behind it might lend credibility, at least to her parents. But six months later she found herself ripping the hair off middle aged women's hoo ha's, and she knew that wasn't how she wanted to spend the rest of her life.
That was the point her parents kicked her out. Her dad said, "You need to grow up, Alice. You need to commit to something!"
"But Dad," she'd complained, "I KNOW I'm supposed to be doing something else with my life. I can just feel it."
"Well then you can do something else somewhere else. I'm not funding it anymore, and I'm not going to sit back and watch you throw your life away. I didn't raise you to be a gypsy."
She'd wanted to argue with him that she'd never lived anywhere other than Biloxi so she could hardly be considered a gypsy, but it wasn't the most opportune moment. She went out partying that night, assuming things would blow over and he'd forget he was mad. But when she stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning, she'd found her bags packed at the bottom of the stairs along with an envelope titled "wedding fund." Her hands shook when she reached out an opened it. She dropped it instantly when she saw all of the hundred dollar bills. This was meant for a beginning, for a future, but it had come to signal the end of her relationship with parents.
How she ended up in Philadelphia was utterly ridiculous. Her last meal in Biloxi was a "Philadelphia Cheese Steak" that she only managed to eat two bites of before thinking she was going to get sick. She lamented the lack of anything real in her life and decided to hell with it why not get a real cheese steak. Her car was packed already, and she had the money in the envelope in her purse.
She really hadn't intended to stay, but something happened when she started seeing the signs. She got that "feeling," It didn't matter how many times that feeling had failed her, she still wanted to believe it meant something. Even on a night like that one when nothing eventful at all had happened. There didn't' think her feelings had anything to do with staying late at work to clean up the puke some drunk bastard had left as a gift in the men's room urinal.
Almost committing vehicular manslaughter was the icing on the cake. Still when given the choice, Alice always chose optimism. After all, what was the point of the alternative?
By some great stroke of scheduling genius, despite closing the night before she was supposed to be at work at nine the next morning. She'd been too worked up to sleep when she got home, so she'd messed around on the internet for hours, trying to figure out where she should go on her next great adventure. She knew something better was out there for her, that she could find a place that felt like home. Philly was a pit stop to a grander destination; she just didn't know where it was yet. She finally fell asleep so late that when the alarm broke her sleep, she couldn't help but hit the snooze four or five times in a row.
"Shit," she groaned when saw the clock. She would be late for work, but if she hurried, it was possible no one would notice. She had showered the night before to get the grease off, so she fluffed her hair and brushed her teeth. No time for a Southern girl's approach to her face, but she wouldn't be caught dead outside without a little color on her cheeks and lips.
She chugged orange juice out of the container and decided a run through Starbucks was in order. She could get the coffee free at work, but she needed a more intense jump start. That was the beginning of her problems. Fifteen minutes late wouldn't have been a problem, but anything more would weigh on the other two waitresses, in addition to putting a damper on her tip money. Starbucks was packed, and she had to wait longer than usual for her Venti skinny mocha. She took a sip, scalded her tongue, threw her change in the console next to her, and hit the gas pedal only to slam on the break seconds later when a pedestrian darted out in front of her on his way to his car.
The sudden jerk sent her mocha flying out of her hand. Thankfully, the lion's share missed her uniform and landed on the passenger seat next to her.
"Fuck, what is up with people these days. Does anyone watch where they're going?" and for good measure she added. "Damn it! I didn't need this shit today."
Despite being late, she pulled into the car wash just down the street from the strip mall that housed the Starbucks. She tried to vacuum up the stain, but it was pretty much pointless. She dabbed at it with her napkin and water from a half empty bottle that had been in her back seat for ages.
Her phone rang and she knew it would be work.
"Where the hell are you?" Maggie asked. "We're swamped."
"I'm on my way."
"Well hurry up, you already missed out on two hot guys sitting in what would have been your section. You don't want to miss any of the after church rush either."
She was right—not that she cared about the hot guys, but she needed the tip money.
She managed to hit every light along the way. It was Sunday, and there were no cars coming. She sat tapping her fingers on the steering wheel every time the light turned red. She was seriously tempted to run a few, but she couldn't afford the ticket or the karmic justice.
She rushed in through the back door after having to drive around the block three times to a place to park. She punched in, and grabbed an apron from the hook. Maggie walked in to take a hit off a cigarette she left burning constantly.
"Finally. Jeez, take you long enough?"
"Complications."
"Whatever."
"So where are the hot guys?" Alice said in order to distract Maggie from any talk of her tardiness.
"On their way out," Maggie said exhaling a cloud of smoke.
Alice breezed past her, and walked through the double doors to the dining room. She could see two tall, well built men heading out the front door. Stupidly, her heart started racing. She hadn't had a date in forever, but it wasn't like she expected to find Mr. Right while working the Sunday morning shift at the diner. One of the guys turned back to grab a toothpick out of the holder next to the cash register, and her heart slowed down. He was cute, but not enough to get worked up over. Plus she caught the glint of a wedding ring when he put the toothpick in his mouth.
She shook her head out of the fog and looked around at the tables in her section to see what her first order of business should be. She heard the bell jingle as the door closed behind the man with the toothpick. She didn't know why, but the click of that door felt ominous.
Jasper began to think he was going crazy. He woke up convinced he needed to get back to that diner. It didn't seem like much of a stretch.
"Hey Peter, wanna grab a bite before I head home?"
"Sure, Charlotte won't be back until this afternoon, and I sure as hell don't feel like cooking."
Peter did give him a sideways glance when he mentioned the diner from the night before, but it wasn't entirely illogical. It was close, and the food was likely to be predictable fare.
If he'd gotten off easy the night before, Peter made the morning more of a challenge.
"So, I know we haven't talked about it lately, but um, have you talked to her?"
"Maria?"
Peter nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"Nah, but I hear things through the grapevine, you know? Like she's engaged."
"How does that make you feel?"
"Less poor," Jasper answered. He knew the alimony would end at five years anyway, but if she got married sooner, he'd be off the hook, not just financially.
"Jasper," Peter admonished.
"I'm okay, Peter. I don't harbor her ill will, and I hope she's happy."
"But what about you?"
"Oh crap, were you left with instructions?"
Peter laughed. "Can we just do an obligatory run through the conversation so I can say I tried?"
Jasper rolled his eyes, but he smiled in agreement.
"Why aren't you dating?"
"I've told you. I'm just not ready. It really knocked the wind out of me, and I can't put myself out there like that yet."
"What scares you? "
"Who said I was scared?"
Peter raised an eyebrow. There was no use denying it. Peter often used Jasper's profession against him.
Jasper inhaled drawing in all the energy of the diner. He thought he had a reason to be here, but he kept looking around the room, and nothing made sense.
"I don't know. I guess. I lost so much in that whole deal—mostly parts of myself. I think it's a personality flaw. I get so invested in other peoples' emotions and trying to make them happy that I think I'm likely to end up in the same place again."
"Uh, you know you sound kinda like a girl."
"Fuck you," Jasper teased.
"Putting your inner chick aside, you know it isn't always like that right? I mean I'm not saying I have changed because of Charlotte, but it's because we've both grown together, not because she forced me to be someone I didn't want to be."
The diner was getting busy, and their plates were empty. The waitress who'd been flirting with them both since they sat down kept offering to refill their coffee mugs. Jasper was pretty sure she was just trying to keep them there longer. He didn't mind. He was still trying to figure out why he thought he needed to be there.
Conversation began to drag, and Peter grew restless wanting to get the house back in order before Charlotte got home. He began tapping his foot and frequently checking the time on his phone. Jasper picked up on it quickly and caught the waitress's attention to get the check.
Jasper was glad to get to his apartment. He was really a homebody at heart. His apartment wasn't much, but it was his. He'd picked it out; he'd chosen the furniture. He hadn't even spent the night away since Christmas when he went back to Texas to visit family. He kept meaning to get out more. He was within driving distance to so many places he'd always wanted to see, but going alone just didn't appeal to him. There were moments like that where he thought maybe Peter was right; maybe it was time to open up more.
He spent the afternoon on menial tasks: working up a sweat lifting weights, laundry, and updating patient files. At around five he realized he hadn't gone to the grocery story, and his refrigerator was seriously lacking in options. He opened a few cupboards hoping he could just wait until the next day after work, but he didn't have anything that could pass for a meal besides saltines and Cheez Whiz. A sniff of the milk carton was the final nail in the coffin.
While he appreciated the convenience of the small gym and onsite laundry, the large complex was a pain to get in and out of; he had to park too far away from his door. It was one of the reasons he came to despise grocery shopping.
The store was fairly empty, and he was happy not to have to play bumper carts every time he turned down a new aisle. He stuck to his plan of picking up just enough staples to get through the week and he was at the checkout in record time.
The bagger was fast, and he barely had the cart unloaded before the total came up on the credit machine. He fumbled for his wallet and nearly had a heart attack when he noticed his debit card was missing. He'd been placing it in the same spot since the first time he ever got a card, but he still rifled through every slot in his wallet. The casher announced the total again clearly getting impatient. The person who was next in line huffed, and he noticed there were a few more people behind him, but they were just a blur.
"Shit," he whispered pulling out the credit card he only liked to use for emergencies. He worried about canceling his account and was concerned he might have to deal with identity theft, but it was weird because nothing else was missing. The cart was filled with bagged groceries and he was wheeling them to his car when he remembered that he'd used his debit card at the diner earlier. Surely, he had gotten the card back. He could remember the waitress setting it down on the counter after he signed, but did he pick it back up? "Shit," he repeated to himself because now he knew he had to drive down there. He hated wasting time. No ice cream, so he figured he was safe to run down there now before unloading his car.
It never even occurred to him that a place like that didn't stay open late on Sundays. He was just annoyed with himself for having to make the drive down there when all he wanted to do was become one with the recliner and the remote. When he pulled up and saw no cars, he groaned. He didn't give up hope and he still got out and walked to the door.
"Shit," he said to himself once again. They closed at five. What was up with this places always closing just before he got there? He leaned against the door and tried to get unpissed. He resented the time wasted already and began to lament the loss of more time the next day. He turned around and peered in through the class to see if it was sitting on the counter. He knew it wouldn't be, but he had to check. He looked around for a phone number so he could call before wasting another trip, but he didn't see one. He did, however, enter their hours into his phone so that at least he wouldn't make that mistake a third time.
With nothing left to do, he got back in his car. He pulled away quickly and was going to slide through the yellow light but had to slam on his breaks when he caught a car barreling at him from the left with no intention of stopping. He honked at the car, and all he caught was a tiny hand flipping him off as it whizzed past.
What was it about that intersection? He decided after he got his debit card, he'd be perfectly happy never to see the diner or this corner again. He pulled away, more slowly this time.
"OH FUCK ME!" Alice screamed. She was really having issues now. A second day which could only be described as total fail. Her head was somewhere else. She'd been driving too fast and completely ignored the fact that the stoplight was coming up. She couldn't have told you what color it was if the other driver hadn't honked at her. She gave him the finger just for being there, just to feel right. She made a hard turn into the alley, and rushed up the back steps, key in hand.
She had almost done something she wasn't very proud of, and she was in a hurry to erase it from her memory. She was convinced if she put the evidence back and closed the drawer that her stupidity would go with it.
She was shaking so hard it took a few times to get the key to go in straight.
Alice walked quickly to the front of the diner. She pulled the card out of her pocket and held it at the edge, trying to touch as little of it as possible.
Earlier that day, she hadn't minded getting her hands all over it. When the toothpick guy and his friend left the diner, she put them out of her mind completely. She went about a very typical day. Nothing remotely "feeling" worthy came her way until closing time when she began to clean up the area around the till. Moving aside a newspaper that had been left behind, she was startled to see a credit card laying there. She picked it up eagerly, though she wasn't sure why.
She stared at the name on the front. Jasper Whitlock.
She liked the sound of that. She tried to imagine the old man it likely belonged to, and it made her laugh. She turned the card over to look at the signature on the back.
The handwriting was impeccable. Very old fashioned. Not unlike her own. She grabbed the pen off the counter, and pulled her order pad out of her apron pocket. She turned a page over and scrolled the name. Her eyes went wide. It was a near match on the first try.
She quickly glanced around her. There was only one other waitress working, and she was in the back. The man hadn't called today; she would know. It would be so simple. No one else had any idea the card was here. Her heart raced and her mind filled with possibilities.
The card was in her pocket before she let her mind consider the consequences.
She cleaned, and she made lists of things she needed, things she wanted. She was tired of just getting by, sick of scraping up just enough to cover rent every month. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Philly was supposed to be better.
When she finally got in the car and had to decide where to go, reality hit. She couldn't go to anywhere with lots of cameras, and a big ticket item would most likely cause more suspicion than smaller ones. She couldn't pay a bill. She thought about trying it out at a cash machine and taking a guess that the guy had something like 9999 or 1234, but then there was that camera thing again.
Most small stores didn't have anything she wanted, or they were closed. Whatever she did would have to be right away. Hell, it might already be reported stolen.
She decided to take a risk but not one so big that it would overwhelm her guilty conscience, or so she thought. There was a small grocery story not too far from her place. They had a couple of cameras, but she was pretty sure that they didn't face the checkout lines because she was there once when a guy pocketed 4 candy bars, and no one noticed anything.
She loaded her cart up with things she hadn't been able to afford in years. It was overflowing. This was good, she kept saying to herself. She needed food, and stealing food was more justifiable than anything else. There was only one line open, and she looked up to see the cameras trained away from it. She breathed a sigh of relief but felt herself tensing when she saw the small line. The asshole at the front of was having some sort of issue. Probably forgot his wallet or something.
She tried to crane her neck, but the guy in front of her was too big, and a magazine rack was in the way. "Oh hurry up," she begged. But the longer she had to wait, the antsier she became, and the more she hoped the line would never end. By the time it was her turn, she imagined she must have looked like a zombie. She could barely move forward.
"Um, I just realized I forgot my wallet," she squeaked.
The cashier rolled his eyes, and she bolted. She ran out the door, never looking back. She hit the accelerator and paid no attention to anyone or anything in her path.
"I'm sorry, Jasper Whitlock," she whispered when she placed the card under the tray in the cash register. "I lost my mind for second there, but I'm a good person. I really am."
She sat down on the floor and cried. After a half hour she announced, "Enough."
No more feelings. No more floating. It was time to grow up and make things right. She had skills she could use even if she didn't love them, and it had to be better than this.
She was scheduled to work the morning shift, but her heart wasn't in it. She began scanning the want ads whenever she had a second. She started to look forward to giving her two week's notice. She was in a good mood. Not because she woke up believing something good was coming her way but because she woke up knowing she was going to make something good happen.
She was smiling when she answered the phone, "City Diner."
There was a pause on the other end, and Alice was about to ask if anyone was there when she heard his voice for the first time.
"Hello, my name is Jasper Whitlock, and I think I left my debit card there yesterday."
Alice let out a little gasp. "Um, let me check to see if it's here."
She took a deep breath and pretended to search for it. "Oh here it is. Jasper Whitlock you say? Interesting name."
He was nervous. Something about this conversation had him on edge.
He chuckled lightly. "Yeah, it's a Southern thing."
"Well, Mr. Whitlock, when you get here, ask for Alice. Mary Alice Brandon. It's a Southern thing," she returned, letting herself feel just a little more Mississippi than she had in a long time.
It was his turn to inhale sharply.
"I'm planning to pick it up at lunch time. Will you be there then?"
"I'm here until five."
Neither of them wanted to hang up. It seemed crazy to feel that way about a stranger's voice, but there was nothing else they could say.
Alice had a hard time for the next hour. She broke two plates, and she kept forgetting to listen when a customer placed an order. She was too busy watching the front door.
Jasper missed more than half what his 11:00 client said. He nodded appropriately and asked, "How does that make you feel" a few times, but he was anxious to get his debit card back. That's what he told himself anyway.
He had intended to go during lunch, but he had an emergency. A client called with an emergency, and he really couldn't say no. Lunch was the only time they could coordinate schedules. When he felt disappointment, he checked himself. He was being stupid, and his patient's needs were far more important than his own.
The rest of the day was packed, and there was no way he could slip out. His last client was scheduled for four o'clock, and he knew that meant he'd miss the woman with the voice, but he wasn't going there to meet a waitress. The last thing he was looking for was a date. He just needed his debit card.
He cut the session off at ten to five, thinking maybe he could still catch her. He knew it was a long shot; it was at least twenty minutes drive, but he decided to try anyway.
For the third day in a row, he pulled up in front of the diner. Each time he'd been in this spot, he'd been filled with anticipation of one kind or another. The way he felt about this diner was inexplicable. For some reason, his palms were sweating a little. He rubbed them on his pants and glanced at himself in the mirror. And then he laughed at himself.
Mary Alice Brandon was probably a fifty year old woman with hair dyed bright orange. She likely wore ruby red lipstick, and he was checking himself out in the mirror. Plus, with the traffic, it was now pushing 5:30.
Alice found her feet very heavy the closer it got to noon. Lunch. Probably sometime between noon and one, he'd be there. She ran to the back room to put lip gloss on every fifteen minutes. She popped a mint in each time.
One o'clock came and went, and she figured he must have a late lunch, but by three, she felt deflated and decided she was truly losing her mind. Thievery and insanity in twenty four hours had to be a new low for her. She tried to put Jasper Whitlock out of her mind for the rest of her shift.
By five, she wasn't sure how to feel. She wondered why the guy hadn't come to get his card, but then she wondered why she cared. He probably wore a silly cowboy hat and a big ass belt buckle. Still, she dragged out her shift change. Taking a table she didn't need to take, offering to fill the sugars and the napkins. At 5:20 she went into the bathroom to change. She needed to clear her head, so she figured she'd catch a movie before going home.
She fluffed her hair, and threw on some deodorant.
Five minutes later she plopped down at the counter with a cup of coffee which was meant as a pick-me-up. She sipped it while perusing the want ads one more time.
She heard the front door bell jingle, but she didn't look up. She'd practically forgotten the real reason she was still there.
"Excuse me, I believe you have my debit card," a voice spoke.
Alice turned slowly to see the back of a tall man ask Maggie. She hit a button on the cash register to open it.
"What's your name?" Maggie asked.
"Jasper Whitlock," he answered. She read the name on the card and looked up at him.
"Well it's your lucky day. Here you go," Maggie chirped, handing him the card
"Thanks."
Maggie assumed he'd be on his way, so she turned to head back to her tables.
"I'm sorry. Um, Alice isn't still here is she?"
She sat there smiling, staring right at him even when Maggie pointed to her. Jasper rotated to catch her gaze. Their eyes never left each other's. The rest of the diner might have disappeared. They didn't hear the dishes clanging or the drone of conversation. He heard her footsteps coming toward him, though he thought they were too slow. She heard him take a breath and exhale it slowly.
She kept walking until she had to tilt her head up to maintain eye contact.
"Hi Alice," he said.
"Hi Jasper," she said back.
There was a pause while they got to know each other's eyes.
"I have a feeling I'm supposed to meet you," Jasper admitted tentatively.
Alice nodded in agreement. She knew all about that feeling. "You've kept me waiting a long time."
She held out her hand to shake his, but once her tiny hand was in his grasp, he lifted it to his lips instead.
When he kissed the back of her hand, she smiled.
Then, Jasper ducked his head and said "I'm sorry ma'am."
E/N: I was helping Jackbauer/staceygirl brainstorm ideas for the contest, and this one came to me. Themes of luck and fate are so very "me" I had to write it. Much love to laviepastiche and ElleCC for hosting the contest.
I had three people give me great insight on this little one shot, so thank you to daisy3853, hmonster4, and jackbauer.
Hope you had fun. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and voting.