Jake sat at the bar, fidgeting. Why the hell did he let Alex talk him into this? 'Go out to dinner, talk to her, get to know her.. it won't kill you'. Those had been Alex's words. It might not kill him, but as nervous as he was feeling, he might kill Alex. The restaurant was nothing special, just a grill outside of downtown. He was in a pair of jeans and a nicer shirt, a jean jacket over the back of his chair. Granted, he was early, but that didn't help any that Sasha hadn't shown up yet. Maybe she gave Alex a fit and said no, maybe she got cold feet and didn't come, maybe she saw him here and just turned around and left...
"Jake?" Sasche had been watching him for a few minutes. She thought it was kind of cute that his foot was bouncing off the step rail nervously.
Jake jumped up and turned around. Before him was Sasha, but she too was in a pair of jeans and a white silk blouse with a tank top underneath it. She even had a touch of makeup on, not that she needed any in his opinion. "I didn't think you'd come tonight."
"Why is that? Didn't you want this date?" She was beginning to feel nervous herself. Alex had told her that he said he wanted the date...
"No! I mean, Yes! I did. I just wasn't sure if you'd actually show up Sasha." He signalled to the waiter and took her arm gentleman-like. Father Michael would be proud of the display of manners. Of course, it just seemed to come naturally with her... "I guess I'm nervous about this."
The waiter pointed to the booth and smiled. Jake watched as she slid down into the seat. Those jeans were almost illegally tight across her derriere. She smiled up at him and tucked on leg under the other. Jake sat down across from her and took the menu.
"What made you say yes, Jake?" Sasche's menu was laying on the table and her hands were folded over it. She was looking up at him and her eyes were catching the light from the restaurant. It looked like her eyes were a velvety chocolate color.
"I... uhm.." Why did he say yes? She was beautiful, no dout about it. But if Alex hadn't convinced him to come...
"I thought so." Sasche laughed and picked up the menu. "Miss Cross twisted your arm. That's alright, she twisted mine as well.
The night passed quickly for the two of them. Other patrons came and went, but they were there for hours. Conversation was light and easy, laughter sprinkled in liberally. Sasche had a better time with Jake in just a few hours than she had ever had with her last boyfriend. Jake just seemed to be so much more fun than other people she knew.
Jake wasn't complaining either. Sasche had stories from all the places she'd ever lived. London, Isreal, New York, Paris, Madrid. She'd lived in all those places, searching for the right place to call home. He was beginning to find out that Sasche was a vibrant woman inside and out with a hellion streak a mile wide.
"After 6 months, I knew that it wasn't the right place. So I packed up and left." Sasche took a sip of the wine that she'd finally agreed to after a few hours of the waiter asking. "I mean, Israel is beautiful, but I just couldn't handle the constant bickering between the religions and terrorist factions. It just seemed that no one cared about dancing anymore. It was from there I landed in New York. Got a job with the New York Metropolitan Modern Dance Theatre and lived there until a few months ago." She stopped, glass in hand as she was setting it down.
"Sasha?"
She blinked and then smiled. Setting the glass down, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I lost my train of thought. Talking about New York lately has been anything but easy. I'm managed to skirt the issue until it slipped out just now. I guess I'm just so comfortable talking to you that..." Sasche paused a moment, then plastered a smile on her face.
"If you don't want to talk... " He could tell it was painful for her to think about it. Suddenly he hit on an idea. "Do you play football?"
"Football? As in American football or European football, more commonly known as soccer?"
"Football, football. The orphage where I grew up, I'm still in close contact with the Father there. Every year we have a charity event involving Flag Football. There is also a carnival and such. We have a lot of fun. Would you like to come?"
Football... "Do you expect me to play? I've never played football."
"I can teach you, it's easy enough. The players have a sort of handkerchief that they tuck into a pocket or a belt or the back of their hats, something. In regular football, there's tackling to the ground - like rugby." He smiled when she nodded. Apparently she'd seen football or rugby matches and knew what was what. "In flag football, there is no tackling. In it's place is the handkerchiefs. To 'tackle' someone, you take their flag from them and play is stopped. Otherwise, the scoring is the same and everything."
Sasche thought about it for a while. She'd never done anything like that. Not even in college. All of her education years were about the dancing and the academies. "When?" she finally asked.
Jake had thought maybe he'd said something wrong. So when she spoke up, he blinked, startled. "This Saturday. Day after tomorrow."
"I'd love to." She smiled brightly. This might be fun after all...
****
"Jake?" Sasche had been watching him for a few minutes. She thought it was kind of cute that his foot was bouncing off the step rail nervously.
Jake jumped up and turned around. Before him was Sasha, but she too was in a pair of jeans and a white silk blouse with a tank top underneath it. She even had a touch of makeup on, not that she needed any in his opinion. "I didn't think you'd come tonight."
"Why is that? Didn't you want this date?" She was beginning to feel nervous herself. Alex had told her that he said he wanted the date...
"No! I mean, Yes! I did. I just wasn't sure if you'd actually show up Sasha." He signalled to the waiter and took her arm gentleman-like. Father Michael would be proud of the display of manners. Of course, it just seemed to come naturally with her... "I guess I'm nervous about this."
The waiter pointed to the booth and smiled. Jake watched as she slid down into the seat. Those jeans were almost illegally tight across her derriere. She smiled up at him and tucked on leg under the other. Jake sat down across from her and took the menu.
"What made you say yes, Jake?" Sasche's menu was laying on the table and her hands were folded over it. She was looking up at him and her eyes were catching the light from the restaurant. It looked like her eyes were a velvety chocolate color.
"I... uhm.." Why did he say yes? She was beautiful, no dout about it. But if Alex hadn't convinced him to come...
"I thought so." Sasche laughed and picked up the menu. "Miss Cross twisted your arm. That's alright, she twisted mine as well.
The night passed quickly for the two of them. Other patrons came and went, but they were there for hours. Conversation was light and easy, laughter sprinkled in liberally. Sasche had a better time with Jake in just a few hours than she had ever had with her last boyfriend. Jake just seemed to be so much more fun than other people she knew.
Jake wasn't complaining either. Sasche had stories from all the places she'd ever lived. London, Isreal, New York, Paris, Madrid. She'd lived in all those places, searching for the right place to call home. He was beginning to find out that Sasche was a vibrant woman inside and out with a hellion streak a mile wide.
"After 6 months, I knew that it wasn't the right place. So I packed up and left." Sasche took a sip of the wine that she'd finally agreed to after a few hours of the waiter asking. "I mean, Israel is beautiful, but I just couldn't handle the constant bickering between the religions and terrorist factions. It just seemed that no one cared about dancing anymore. It was from there I landed in New York. Got a job with the New York Metropolitan Modern Dance Theatre and lived there until a few months ago." She stopped, glass in hand as she was setting it down.
"Sasha?"
She blinked and then smiled. Setting the glass down, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I lost my train of thought. Talking about New York lately has been anything but easy. I'm managed to skirt the issue until it slipped out just now. I guess I'm just so comfortable talking to you that..." Sasche paused a moment, then plastered a smile on her face.
"If you don't want to talk... " He could tell it was painful for her to think about it. Suddenly he hit on an idea. "Do you play football?"
"Football? As in American football or European football, more commonly known as soccer?"
"Football, football. The orphage where I grew up, I'm still in close contact with the Father there. Every year we have a charity event involving Flag Football. There is also a carnival and such. We have a lot of fun. Would you like to come?"
Football... "Do you expect me to play? I've never played football."
"I can teach you, it's easy enough. The players have a sort of handkerchief that they tuck into a pocket or a belt or the back of their hats, something. In regular football, there's tackling to the ground - like rugby." He smiled when she nodded. Apparently she'd seen football or rugby matches and knew what was what. "In flag football, there is no tackling. In it's place is the handkerchiefs. To 'tackle' someone, you take their flag from them and play is stopped. Otherwise, the scoring is the same and everything."
Sasche thought about it for a while. She'd never done anything like that. Not even in college. All of her education years were about the dancing and the academies. "When?" she finally asked.
Jake had thought maybe he'd said something wrong. So when she spoke up, he blinked, startled. "This Saturday. Day after tomorrow."
"I'd love to." She smiled brightly. This might be fun after all...
****