Author's note: Sorry about the extreme absence everyone. I won't lie, I definitely lost some of my motivation to write this. Thank you for leaving comments and favouriting/following this story. I'll try to hang in there until the ending. - strike
The silence is heavy, awkward, uncomfortable, and I hate it. He hasn't spoken since we got into the car—not even to ask me where I live now. I guess he got the information from my CTOS profile, but I wish he'd ask me anyway, just to give us something to talk about.
Normally he'd drum his fingers on the wheel or turn on the radio, but he hasn't made any move to lessen the tense atmosphere at all. Not even a single complaint about traffic.
As we idle at a red light watching a young couple make their way across the street, I finally clear my throat.
"I live just up ahead in that glass building."
The light changes to green and he makes a left turn instead, taking us westward.
"I know." He replies. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.
"Where are we going then?" I raise an eyebrow, and he glances over at me coolly before returning his eyes to the road.
"Aren't you going to ask how I got your address?"
"I figured working for Blume means they gave you access to CTOS." I shrug, "You checked your phone when we got in the car. I assume you were checking my profile."
He doesn't respond, and I'm desperate to keep hold of the conversation before it melts back into awkward silence again. I only wish I'd thought more carefully about the next words that come tumbling out of my mouth.
"I have access too. To CTOS."
He silently clenches his jaw, and I immediately regret bringing this up. When Jay is in a bad mood, he's what you might call an erratic driver. I know better than to start an argument when he's behind the wheel. I'm not keen on dying tonight.
"Dedsec gave it to you?" To my relief, his reaction is more subdued than I expected. He sounds oddly calm.
"No, I didn't ask them. There are a lot of other hackers in the city, you know," I avoid his gaze, "I just had to reconnect with some old acquaintances. I didn't tell them I was looking for you."
"So? Now they know you're back in Chicago. You didn't need the system access to find me, Amber. I'm a public performer, for fuck's sake. Half the city knows I play the Ambrose on weekends. You said it yourself. I'm not that hard to find." He raises his voice slightly, but it's not anger—not yet—just annoyance.
"Defalt is a public performer. How was I supposed to know if that was really you and not some poser?"
"You thought I'd give up on hacking after Dedsuck kicked me out?" He scowls, the disgust evident in his words.
Yeah, I guess a part of me did. That part of me ignored the much higher possibility that it really was Jay behind the successful DJ career, the digital trips, and the impressive online reputation. It was stupid of me to assume that he'd let pain, grief, or failure stop him. It clearly hasn't stopped him from pursuing Raymond Kenney.
If anything, it makes him more determined.
"Chicago's not what it used to be. You should have stayed away." He grumbles, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
I'm halfway through a sigh when he cuts me off.
"Still… I'm kind of glad you came back."
What, a change of heart?
I'm dumbstruck by his admission, but he merges onto the road leading northwards to Pawnee, and I recognize where we're going before I have time to formulate a response.
As we drive through the district's narrow, quiet roads, the nostalgia comes back to haunt me. This is the last place we met, the very last time I saw him.
I didn't tell him I was leaving at the time. I played it off like it was just another day.
Sure enough, he pulls into a lot just in front of the marina, and turns off the ignition. He doesn't even wait for me to follow him; he's already out of the car and heading to the docks. I lament my choice of footwear as I struggle not to twist my ankles walking in heels on the grass.
The dark water gurgles quietly, barely audible over the sounds of laughter echoing from a nearby pub. The mood here feels far more relaxed than the tense air between us. Even though it's past midnight, it doesn't feel that way; the dockside lamps cast a golden glow on everything, and the smell of a late supper wafts by on the cool summer breeze.
For a long time, I stare out at the bright Chicago skyline across the bay, glittering like a man-made arrangement of stars on the water.
Damn, it's so hard to believe that the last time I saw this view was three years ago.
This city is where I was born, where I grew up… where we met.
When I finally look over at him, I find him staring back at me. I'm perplexed by the quiet reflection I see in his face, where only moments earlier there used to be an irritated scowl.
If he wants closure, if… if he wants to break up, how do I have any right to deny him?
I wait for him to say something, anything to explain the reason we're standing here at 12:41 AM on a Saturday night.
He finally glances away, kicking a small pebble into the water.
"You wore that dress the first time we fucked."
It's such a simple observation, and yet it catches me completely off guard. So much so, that I let out a laugh. Here I was waiting for some serious, philosophical comment to suit the mood, and he blindsides me with his bluntness.
"You don't have to look so surprised." He rubs the back of his neck, frowning, "Is it weird that I remember?"
Now he's embarrassed. Lord, save me from this precious boy.
"You told me it was your favourite before, but I didn't think you'd remember that specific time I wore it." I smile.
"How can I not remember your dad threatening to kill me for the first time?" He humours me with a smirk.
"Yeah, I guess that might've contributed to the salience of that memory." I take one of his hands in my own, and he pulls it out of my grip almost immediately.
"Jesus, your hands are cold." He begins to unzip his sweater.
"Jay, I'm fine-"
He ignores my protests as he shrugs his arms out of the sleeves and hands it to me.
I take the sweater from him reluctantly, slipping it on. It's warm. It smells like him, and also faintly of AXE body spray—a fact that fills me with immense disappointment. I thought I taught him better than to wear that abomination.
"What's another one to add to the 3 million other sweaters of mine that you still have?" He jokes.
"Oh please. More like 3. You can come by and pick them up whenever you want, you know." I smile, and he steps closer, until we're just centimetres apart. He presses his forehead against mine, wrapping his arms around me.
It feels like everything else-the pub laughter, the cool breeze, the smells of late supper—has faded away.
"That's a fucking trap, and you know it." His breath tickles on my face.
"So is this." I plant a pert kiss on his lips and he chuckles lightly, slipping his arms beneath the unzipped sweater as he pulls me into an embrace that erases what little space had been between us.
"Who's trapped now?"
He kisses me then, his mouth capturing my lips without warning. I smile as his tongue presses for entry, letting my hands rest on his broad shoulders as I lean into his embrace. He controls the pace as he dominates my mouth, igniting a fierce fire in my stomach that lets me do little else but keep up with his roaming tongue.
His grip on my hips becomes firm as my fingernails graze the nape of his neck. He shudders, and I wonder if it's because of the breeze or my touch. I feel no chill, but whether it's because of the warmth of his sweater, his embrace, or the heat eating away at my insides, I don't know.
I let my fingers trail into his hair, my other hand following the line of his collar bone to the base of his throat. Before my fingertips even touch his Adam's apple, he breaks off the kiss.
"The fuck are you doing? Don't make me jump into that lake." He levels a critical gaze at me, his voice betraying him with its husky overtone.
I smile, moving a loose strand of hair out of my face, trying to look less affected by that bout of passion than he was.
"It's your punishment for wearing AXE."
"I had to keep the ladies off me somehow." He shrugs, a coy smile playing on his lips.
"I bet." I raise an amused eyebrow.
"You don't believe me?"
"I believe you. I'm sure there are a lot of Camilas in the world eager for a chance with a hotshot like you."
His smile disappears, and I kick myself for stupidly bringing the real world back into our intimate moment.
"Yeah, well… she'll have to settle for the Sam Chos of the world." He steps away, look back at the parking lot.
Just as I begin to feel like I've wrecked the entire evening, I feel his grip on my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. My breath catches in my throat.
"I should get you home."
