"Elizabeth?" His hand rose to push a stray hair out of her face. When she didn't flinch away, he let his fingertips brush against the curve or her ear. Even touching her ear was better than not touching her at all.
"You know." It was a statement, not a question.
"You didn't want me to know?"
Her gaze stayed on the mirror like lake. "I didn't think you'd find out so soon."
"Elizabeth, I don't- I don't get it. Didn't you think I'd find out?" His eyebrows creased with confusion. "You could've told me."
She shook her head, "No, I couldn't. You were - are - my boss. I had hoped it could last just a little while longer." She let out a wry chuckle and shrugged her shoulders. "Guess not."
He turned to her, leaning his back against the pole with his right leg extended behind her. "Hoped what could last a little longer?"
She shrugged again, this time her back relaxed to let her shoulders sag in defeat. "I don't know what you would call it. I was having fun playing pool, drinking beer, riding on the back of your bike." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Weren't you?"
"If I hadn't been having fun, I wouldn't have asked you to come out here." He gave her a smile to reassure her he wasn't lying. "But I still don't get it, what's the problem?"
Her sigh was heavy with regret. "Now that you know who I am -- an employee of Corinthos-Morgan Coffee Warehouses -- I can't see you anymore. Not that I was seeing you to begin with." She dragged her feet up onto the pier, her heels planting themselves on the edge so her arms could wrap themselves around her bent legs. Resting her chin on her knees, her eyes closed against the gentle breeze that pushed it's way through her hair.
He could see the sadness invade her face and, more than anything, wanted to make it go away. "Elizabeth?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you here?"
"Because you asked me to come," she answered, her eyes opened and fixed on the bank of trees on the other side of the lake.
He chuckled. "No, I mean here, in Port Charles. Why are you so sad?" His hand automatically started to rise to her face, his fingers craving contact with her skin, but he dropped it back into his lap instead, waiting for her to answer.
Finally, she turned her head to look at him, resting it against her knees. "Why?"
"Because even thought you're an 'employee of Corinthos-Morgan Coffee Warehouses,' I'd still like you to consider me a friend." His voice was soft and comforting and flowed through her veins, coaxing her to tell him every last one of her secrets.
She studied him for a moment. The way his head cocked to one side, the right half of his face was cast in a shadow and yet, she could still see his eye sparkle. "Do you and Sonny treat all of your employees this way?"
Jason's eyebrows knitted. "Not all of them, no."
"Then why me?"
Jason shrugged and turned to look out onto the water. His restless hands found a fallen maple leaf and proceeded to tear it to pieces. "Honestly? I don't know. Sonny invited you to his penthouse for dinner, you should ask him."
Her eyes wandered over his profile; the stubborn jut of his chin, the strong line of his jaw, the funny way his nose seemed to come to a point, his broad forehead. "I will. But why you?"
"Can't two people just be friends without asking why?"
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
His head whipped back around to her, his eyebrow cocked, "Why?" Her sigh was inpatient, rough. From what, Jason couldn't even guess. "If you don't want to talk to me about it, fine. But talk to somebody about it, or it'll eat you alive."
"How would you know?" she spat out, each word dripping with acid.
"Fine, I guess I wouldn't know."
Before she could react, he was standing up next to her and about to head toward the motorcycle when her hand shot out to grab at his. He froze, not because her hand wouldn't let go, but from the heat of her touch.
"I'm sorry." The words came out hoarse, rough, and she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she repeated while he sat back down. "I've never actually had someone who cared enough to find out how I feel. Hell, I've never had someone really notice me before."
He was sitting closer to her than before, her hand still in his. His fingers massaging her palm, making it pliable, relaxed. "Tell me Elizabeth. It's ok. I won't hurt you."
She closed her eyes. I won't hurt you. Could she
trust it? Could she trust him?