..,and his eyes.
I wanted them on me
all the damn time.
-Tiffany Simone
Clarice was on the edges of sleep when she heard the sound of someone trying to open the door, eyes flying open as she slid off the couch in the living room and hurriedly tiptoed to the kitchen to grab the first thing she could get her hands on: a frying pan.
Lauren, her roommate of only a semester, warned her of a creepy ex that might be coming by.
Considering whoever it was was picking the lock in the middle of the night, Clarice felt safe in assuming they weren't welcome and since she'd had the landlord change the locks just last week, she figured it was someone who had a old key…
The door opened quietly and before the person could turn the light on, she swung.
The metal rung out as it struck their head, collapsing to the ground with a thud.
Clarice walked around the unconscious form and turned on the light.
Shit.
"Clarice? What's going on?"
"I heard someone picking the lock and I though it was your ex so when they opened the door…"
Lauren walked around the counter, "That's not Nick."
Clarice ran a hand through her hair, "Yes, I'm aware."
"So who is it?"
She set aside the pan and crouched down, brushing the dark hair back. Clarice pushed down the fluttering in her stomach when she took note of the strong lines of his face. God, he was gorgeous…"I…I don't know."
"He looks familiar, though, doesn't he?"
She frowned, running her gaze along his body. "He does."
He was wearing faded jeans and worn leather jacket, the canvas duffle bag on the ground behind him. His distinctly Native features formed a blurry image in the back of her mind and only added to the feeling that she'd seen him somewhere before. She knew him…
What was his name?
Lauren ran her fingers over his scalp before she sat back on her heels. "Help me move him."
"I thought we weren't supposed to do that."
"Just trust me, Clarice."
She pulled the bag away, resting it by the door, before she helped roll the man on his back as slowly as they could manage. Then she and Lauren both took an arm, pulling him towards to the direction of the living room and carpeted floor. "Jesus, he's heavy."
Lauren let out a breathless laugh, "I thought you like you guys with some muscle."
Clarice very nearly dropped him, sputtering as her face went bright red. She tried to ignore the feeling of said hard muscle under her hands as she glared, "Really, Lauren? You're trying to play matchmaker with the guy I knocked unconscious with a frying pan?"
"Yeah, just like Tangled."
"You and your princess movies."
Lauren grinned, "You liked those princess movies if I recall."
"Not Rapunzel." She nudged the coffee table back with her foot, "Too cheery."
"Figures." The girl hummed thoughtfully as they lowered the man onto the ground, grabbing a throw pillow off one of the chairs and propping it under his head. She went to pull the blanket off the back of the couch. "You have a type."
"Oh?" She looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, "Care to share with the class?"
"You're into the more strong-and-silent types."
"Lauren…"
"Like that night you hit on Marcos and Lorna."
Clarice groaned, "I was drunk…Why do people keep bringing that up?"
Lauren laughed, "Because it was hilarious."
"Glad my embarrassment amuses you." She turned to lay the blanket over the man when her eyes paused at the dog tags gleaming in the light. Setting the blanket aside, Clarice knelt down. These things always had the person's name on it… She flipped them over, running her thumb along the first two lines of raised letters.
Proudstar
J.M.
She dropped them, nearly falling back, "Shit!"
"What? Clarice, what is it?"
As if on queue, the phone in his pocket started ringing.
Her hand was on auto-pilot, reaching in and pulling out the phone.
Marcos calling…
Double shit!
She looked at John, Marcos' childhood friend who'd been overseas for nearly a year, then at the phone then back at John. Only she could take out a freaking soldier with a frying pain. God, how did she always end up in these situations?
Lauren was looking at her strangely, "Clarice?"
And the embarrassment continues…
Taking a deep breath, she answered the phone.
"Hey, brother. You get a cab yet?"
She cleared her throat, "Not exactly."
"Clarice, what…why are you answering the phone? Where's John?"
"Currently unconscious on my living room floor."
The background noise quieted, Marcos' voice tight with concern, "Did I hear that right?"
"That you did."
"What the hell happened?"
"What happened?" Her voice cracked as she stood, pacing the length of the kitchen, "What happened is that Soldier Boy here decided it would be a smart idea to sneak into the apartment at three in the freaking morning!"
"So you knocked him out?" A heartbeat of silence passed before Marcos busted up laughing.
"Yes…what- this is not funny Marcos!"
"Oh, yes it is. John heard about Dawn and he wanted to surprise her and Lorna when he came home. He must've…been trying to surprise her ahead of time and the apartment you're in now was Lorna's until you took over the lease and he didn't know we moved…"
"What about me hitting me over the head is so damn hilarious?"
"Because I haven't been able to sneak up on the guy since I've known him. It's like he's got freaking eagle eyes in the back of his head…and that was before he joined the Marines. Yet you meet him for the first time and knock him out?" He chuckled a little breathlessly, "God, I wish I could've seen it."
Clarice frowned, "Wow, you sound real concerned."
"He's got a thick skull, he'll be fine."
"You sure about that?"
"I'm sure." There was a commotion in the background that sounded a lot like cheering. Marcos sighed, sensing her concern, "Look, I'll be over in a bit with Lorna, alright? Think you'll be good until then?"
"I think so, but when-"
"See you soon."
"You've got to be kidding me." She stared down at the phone when the call disconnected, looking up when Lauren cleared her throat. Clarice sighed, setting the phone on the coffee table as she knelt on the floor again. "Marcos will be by with Lorna."
"When?"
"No clue."
Lauren pursed her lips, "So what are we supposed to do with…"
"John. And I guess we just wait 'til he wakes up."
The girl nodded, "I would stay up, but I have a presentation in a few hours-"
Clarice waved her off, "You're okay I knocked him out so it's only fair I stay up with him."
Lauren smiled, motioning to her and John, "Let me know how this goes?"
"Trust me, I will."
She watched Lauren return to her room, the familiar sound of nails scrapping over linoleum alerted her to Zingo's arrival, the shy dog sniffing curiously at the unconscious John and it wasn't until she started licking his face that Clarice went to pull her back, "Zingo, no. Leave him be."
John grimaced, bringing a hand up to push Zingo away.
"Damnit." Clarice muttered, scooting back as the man pushed himself up.
He put a hand on the back of his head, looking over at with confusion for only a split second before what could only be described as embarrassment replaced it as he gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't mean to-"
Her stomach did another flip, "It's fine. I'm just glad I didn't kill you."
"Yeah, me too." He grimaced as he felt the back of his head, "What did you hit me with?"
"Frying pan." She stood, "Did you want an ice pack or…?"
"Yeah…" he got himself onto the couch, "Yeah, an ice pack sounds good."
She padded over to the kitchen, grabbing a clean hand towel from under the sink. Clarice tried to ignore the feeling of his gaze on her as she pulled out a sandwich bag and filled it with ice, but couldn't help but wonder if he was using those "eagle eyes" that Marcos spoke of... She shook her head, wrapping the bag in the towel before turning around and the words got trapped in her throat.
He'd shrugged off his jacket, the black t-shirt stretching enticingly across his chest and over his shoulders as he rested his head in his hands. John looked up, pushing back hair as it fell in his face, and smiled, "You going to actually give me the ice pack?"
She cleared her throat, "Uh, yeah…here you go."
He took with an almost amused smile, "Thanks, and I'm sorry about-"
She shook her head, hating how off-balance he made her and Clarice had no doubts he'd noticed her wandering eyes. Some first impression she was making… Clarice pulled the coffee table back to its original place, sitting down across from him, "You're good. Marcos, he uh…he explained the mix-up."
"Ah." John sat up, "He tried to call me, right? See if I'd landed?"
"Yeah. He said he'll be by with Lorna in a bit."
"I'm sure he found this whole thing hilarious."
"Oh he did." She leaned back, "Almost couldn't talk he was laughing so hard."
He smiled, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, I haven't gotten your name."
"Clarice…Clarice Fong."
"You're Lorna's old roommate…the one going into social work?"
"Yeah, that's me."
He hummed, "That's a tough profession."
"Says the soldier."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean…"
"No, you're not wrong." He adjusted the ice pack. "Just making an observation."
"Still…I'm sorry. I get a bit touchy when people…"
"Get personal." He smiled softly, sympathetically. "It's fine. I get it."
Her fingers itched to smooth out the lines of concern in his face, hands curling over the edge of the coffee table instead. "Well, it still was unfair of me to snap at you so soon after I knocked you out."
"I broke into your apartment, Clarice. Self-defense is warranted."
She grinned, "It was a good hit though, wasn't it?"
He hummed, a small smile forming, "Sure was. You play softball or something?"
"Nope, but I have been told I have a mean right hook."
"I guess this'll teach me never to get on your bad side."
Clarice looked up at the warmth and teasing in his voice and she watched as his expression shifted almost infinitesimally. Her hands uncurled from the table and she found herself moving closer to him to see if she was just imagining his wandering eyes…
"Knock, knock."
Marcos' voice snapped them both out whatever spell they'd been under.
Lorna threw herself on John with an excited squeal, very nearly toppling him off the couch as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took her a moment to register his pained groan, the green-haired woman pulling back and slapping him on the shoulder, "That's what you get for trying to surprise me, dumkopf."
He laughed, "Love you too, shilah."
She glanced at Marcos, who only watched the exchange fondly.
Lorna pulled back, "I told you you'd like her, didn't I?"
Clarice sputtered as the woman's raised eyebrow.
John chuckled, "She sure is something."
Her face went bright red as she turned to look at him, her stomach dropping to the floor at the sheer intensity in his eyes…the heat in those dark, fathomless depths staring right through her and promising so many things…
God, she was so screwed.
Translations:
dumkopf- Yiddish for "dumb person" or "idiot"
shilah- Western Apache for "sister"
