Chapter Sixteen

It had been a week since her date with Drew, and Elizabeth had been taking it very easy with her volatile co-worker. Jason's choleric mood after the first excursion – which had been a resounding success – was enough to make her feel guilty and back off, even though Emily told her she'd be sure to make more headway if she kept at it until the mechanic's head exploded. But Elizabeth had quickly brushed off that suggestion, thinking that her best friend was most certainly overestimating Jason's feelings for her. He was probably being territorial of his new 'friend' and she could kind of understand that if she tried.

But still, she had eased up on the dates – her second one was with one of Johnny's interns and she taken a rain check on that one until further notice – and resumed the whole buddy-buddy bonding thing. After all, that seemed to show a glimmer of effectiveness; either Jason was slowly seeing her as more than a co-worker, or he was in full on Big Brother mode. She could only pray that it was the former and not the latter.

She turned her stereo up a little louder and slouched back in her chair, crossing both her legs across her handsome wooden desk. Studying sucked pond scum, and Baudrillard sure was a boring old sonofabitch. This was how she had spent the last three nights – holed up in her room with the music going, dressed in her pajamas, trying to wade through French critical theory. But, hell, the stuff was still better than American theory, so she probably didn't have much of a right to complain.

The minutes ticked by slowly – very slowly – and Baudrillard's explanation of the hyperreality that surrounded them began to blend in with the Les Miserables soundtrack she was listening to. It was so cruel – time flew when she was painting or dancing or hanging out with Jason, but when she was in school or doing her homework, it barely managed to limp along.

Presently, there was a knock on her door. Elizabeth ignored it until she heard it again, harder and more urgent this time. "Elizabeth is not home!" she called out, glaring down at the text that stood braced against her thighs. "I'm her exotic, well-trained new pet parrot! Be forewarned – I'm on Atkins so I don't want a cracker, and if you call me Polly, you die!"

"Elizabeth, you hate birds. They scare you ever since you saw that one Hitchcock movie."

Jason's gruff voice made her smile, and Elizabeth slid her legs off the top of the desk and went to open the door. Sure enough, there he stood, wearing that dark pair of jeans that she swore was a godsend. The mechanic quirked a brow at her and she rolled her eyes, not noticing how his eyes trailed over her slender form. It hadn't yet crossed her mind that she was wearing only her pajamas – sky blue silk boxers with a matching blue camisole, trimmed with pale tan lace – and that in all actuality, she should be reaching for her robe.

"Fine, Surly McGrouchster, I'll turn my music down." He smirked at her and Elizabeth mimicked the little grin. "What? Isn't that why you almost broke down my door? Please, Jason, I'd like to think that I know you fairly well by now and am quite familiar with your profound dislike of anything cheerful or French. Fine, I'll turn the music down."

He just shook his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and braced one hand against the frame of her door. "Get dressed."

She blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"Get dressed." Man, he couldn't believe he was saying that. She looked completely delectable dressed in those silky pajamas, with her curly brown hair tied up in two cute little pigtails. He wouldn't mind taking that to bed every night, that was for sure. It was the same pair of pajamas he'd seen in her little shopping bags, and he offhandedly began to wonder if she had gotten around to wearing that pink nightie. That was the main reason he regretted ever seeing the contents of those bags; every time he looked at her now, he found himself mentally undressing her and wondering what kind of underwear she wore. And that was not a healthy habit – for him, his right hand, or the cold water supply at Kelly's.

Elizabeth looked up at him like he had lost his mind. "Why?"

Jason rolled his eyes and leaned his hip against the threshold of the door, crossing his feet at the ankles, and didn't notice how she cast an appreciative glance at the denim that now stretched snugly across him. "Because we're going out."

The brunette frowned at him, not liking the way he was taunting her with the promise of fun and merriment when she had to study at all. "Jason, are you crazy? I can't go out – I have to get through this Baudrillard crackpot by noon tomorrow!"

He tilted his head, practically daring her to defy him. "I said, get dressed. We're going out." The little brunette had been cloistered away in her room all week and he wanted to get her out of the cramped diner for a little while.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Didn't you hear me? I can't go anywhere until I understand this hyperreality junk, and right now, I still have no fricking clue!"

This time, it was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. "The hyperreal is the result of a real without origin or reality – Prisons are the best example. We create prisons to distract from the fact that we're all in prison; we're just hiding the fact that the real is no longer real, but hyperreal. There – now get dressed, because we're going out."

She could only stare after him as he left her doorway and returned to his room to get his jacket. Finally forcing her mouth to work, Elizabeth poked her head out of her room and called out to him. "How the heck did you know that?"

"I read," came the simple answer as the older man disappeared into his room. "Better grab a jacket or sweater or something – it's going to be windy."

The brunette just stared at him before softly closing her door and searching for her jeans. She had absolutely no idea what Jason Morgan was planning, but she'd be lying if she said that the idea didn't excite her. Whatever he had in store, she'd trust him and follow his lead.

Jason grinned at Elizabeth's bubbly laughter as he slowed to a stop and flipped down the kickstand. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach and he could feel her shaking behind him.

"I can't believe I've never been on your bike before!" she squealed excitedly. "I mean, seriously, how did I live? Oh, Jason, we were going so fast I couldn't see a thing! It was amazing! You have to take me out riding again sometime – I love it!"

The young woman was still laughing and squealing as he slid off the bike and took off his leather gloves, sticking them in his pocket before offering her his hand. She took it easily, naturally, and let him help her off. He could only watch with a little smile as she struggled with the clasp of her helmet before getting it off, and Jason quickly dropped it in the cab.

"Where are we?" Elizabeth asked, looking around eagerly. "Where do those steps go?"

"It's called Vista Point," he told her, slipping his keys into the pocket of his leather jacket and placing one hand gently on the small of her back to guide her up. "I come here a lot just to think."

She insisted on taking the steps up two at a time, bounding ahead to the top as Jason strode quickly after her. Reaching the final landing, Elizabeth was completely unprepared for the gorgeous view that lay at her feet. "Oh, Jason…"

A small smile ran across his lips as he appeared at behind her, looking over her head at the entire town that lay slumbering underneath them. "Yeah."

"It's so beautiful," she sighed, softly, clasping her hands together as she peered over the railing. "Wow, I've never been this high up before – I've never seen the town this way. It's hard to believe that's Port Charles, you know?" Her gaze fluttered from the office buildings to Harborview Towers in the distance, then finally to the docks and the inky sparkling water of the lake. She could feel the heat from Jason's body behind her and she knew he was close; but what she didn't know was how he stood with his hand poised to fall on her shoulder, then withdrew it at the last possible moment and clasped his hands behind his back. "It's so gorgeous. Like we're the only two people in the world."

She was so close that he could smell her hair, that unique scent of her coconut shampoo and rose conditioner. It would be so easy to wrap his arms around her belly and pull her against him. It would be so easy to stand that way for the rest of the night. But his hands remained clasped safely behind his back and Jason forced his eyes to turn once more to the spectacular view.

"Yeah. It's nice."

Elizabeth turned those wide, magical sapphire orbs upward, peering at him and noticing for the first time exactly how close he was. "You come here often?"

Jason's nod was almost imperceptible. "Yeah, when I need to think." He'd been coming up here a hell of a lot more often since he had befriended her, that was for sure.

"It's peaceful." She smiled softly down at the city. "It's perfect."

"Yeah, it does look nice from up here."

"No," she smiled softly, shaking her head as a light blush stole across her cheeks. "I mean, tonight – it was all perfect. The bike ride, this – how'd you know I needed to get out?"

He shrugged easily, once again sorely tempted to fold her up in his arms under the starlight. "You looked like you could use a break – like you could stand a little freedom."

"Mm," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself as the city twinkled sleepily beneath her. "I like freedom – I like being free."

Jason's smile was small but quick. "I had a feeling you would."

Elizabeth turned those starry midnight blue eyes up to him once more. "Thank you."

He nodded once, slowly, and could feel himself getting sucked into her. "T-There's another landing up there – up that flight of steps – with those binocular stands. We can go up there if you want."

But the brunette shook her head at him with a content smile before turning back toward the city. "I like it right here."

"How'd that project of yours go today?" Drew Hunter shifted his grip on the armful of canvases he carried as he and Elizabeth climbed the stairs up to her studio.

"Not too bad," the brunette replied, praying that she could keep her grip on her textbooks, bag, and painting supplies long enough to make it to her door. "Cavenaugh loved my still life's – said I chose interesting subjects and not the standard fruit or flower vase."

"What did you pick?" her friend wanted to know.

"Uh, let's see, this stack of travel books, with the top one opened to a picture of the Piazza in Venice," she started, remembering how she had burst into Jason's room and raided his bookshelf for that one. "A pair of blue jeans crumpled up on the floor next to two empty beer bottles, and…oh, yeah, a motorcycle standing behind Kelly's at night."

"Quite a repertoire you got there, Liz," Drew replied, thanking the Lord when they finally reached her floor.

She smiled at that, thinking to herself that all the still life paintings she had done were somehow related to Jason. She had stolen his books and set them up on her own desk; she had spent two days hanging out in his room studying a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor. A small blush painted her cheeks as she remembered how Jason had camped out all night with her under the starlight just so she could paint his bike in the dark. "I do what I can."

"Hey, I meant to ask you," he started, beginning to feel the loss of circulation in his fingers. "Are you and the girls doing anything for the community fair?"

"The one for the community center?" she asked. "Yeah, Emily and I are manning the bake sale and Renee was saying something about a kissing booth. Why?"

"The guys and I are one of the acts scheduled," he replied proudly. "We got a couple other acts from L&B to take a day off and jam for charity, too, so it should be pretty cool."

"Oh, hey, that's great – so I'll see you there," she smiled happily just as they rounded the corner to her studio. Drew was about to respond affirmatively, but his eyes caught movement nearby and the young man stopped cold, his feet glued to the ground.

"Drew-" Elizabeth frowned at him but as soon as she faced forward once more, the frown slipped off her face and her lips formed a round 'o' of surprise. "Jason!"

The mechanic stood by her studio door dressed in his baggy jeans, scuffed motorcycle boots and leather jackets, and he was glaring daggers at a very pale Drew who had retreated to several steps behind her. Elizabeth glanced back at him and then stepped toward Jason, noticing that the muscle in his jaw was ticking.

"Jason? What are you doing here?"

He directed a scowl in Drew's direction before turning to her and extending his hand. Elizabeth immediately recognized one of her carrying cases tucked under his arm. "Penny said you left this at school – she thought you'd be at Kelly's and I was on my way out, so I thought I'd drop it by." Each word was tense and clipped and as soon as he had spoken his piece, Jason once again turned a harsh glare at a very uncomfortable Drew.

"Oh, thanks," Elizabeth smiled in relief, her mind racing as she tried to figure out the best way to ease the situation. Only one solution came to mind: to get Drew as far away from Jason as possible. "Drew was just helping me get my stuff up here – thanks, man-"

The mechanic didn't wait for her to finish and prowled toward the younger man. Drew could only blink as Jason abruptly grabbed the paintings from his arms, not even flinching under the cumbersome load. "I'll take it from here, Drew."

"Uh, sure," he stammered, thankful for the way out as he began backpedaling toward the stairwell. "You got it. I'll see you in school, Eliz-" Another dark glare from Jason. "Er, no, I won't. Bye!"

And with that, he was off, disappearing safely around the corner. Feeling a bit more relaxed now that the situation had been contained, Elizabeth managed to wrestle her key into the lock and push open the door. "Come on in, Jason." He followed her and set the paintings on the table where she motioned. "Welcome to my studio."

After making sure the canvas wouldn't fall off the bench, Jason turned around to survey her abode. The studio, as she called it, was actually quite spacious. It boasted a tiny bathroom, a little stove and refrigerator, and a well-lit area where several easels with half-finished paintings sat. The area then opened up into a hardwood room with mirrored walls that he immediately took to be a little dancing studio. He could just picture her stretching at the bar, dressed in a snug-fitting leotard and shimmering tights.

Elizabeth noticed the direction of his stare and smiled. "Yeah, that's where I practice my ballet. Johnny and a couple of his friends put it up for me back when he and Emily were dating – I think he was just trying to get in good with me," she giggled. "It took them forever to get the bar up, and Emily kept marching around and yelling out orders. It was hilarious."

She motioned to the easels and the benches, one of which he'd set her work upon. "And this is where I paint. Don't look at that stuff, though – it's not good."

One painting in particular caught his eye, and Jason ignored her and walked over to it. "What's this?"

Elizabeth appeared at his side and began to nibble on the nail of her index finger. "That's, uh, a project that I'm supposed to be working on. It's not right – I have to start over."

"What is it?"

"Well, it's supposed to be a couple dancing." Her fingers moved gently across the canvas as if caressing the rich colors. "See this blue, and the streak of black? That's the man. And this pink thing that looks like a fluttering dress? That's a woman. I didn't bother painting the floor; I wanted to make it look like they were dancing on air, completely wrapped up in each other, so I put lots of yellow and orange and red around them to make it look romantic and…I don't know, fiery. I kind of like how it turned out."

He nodded, slowly beginning to see what she was talking about. "If you like it, then why do you have to start all over?"

The brunette sighed heavily. "Well, see, my goal was to paint it so that it looked like they were…you know, lovers. Like they just had to have each other, like nothing else in the world existed except them and this dance and this passion. But…" She was troubling her bottom lip again. "It just looks like they're hugging. That spark isn't there – you know, the passion. I'm going to do it over, and get it right this time."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed how she was concentrating on the painting. Elizabeth really knew what she was doing, and he had no doubt that she was very talented, even though he himself didn't have the ability to judge that one way or another. She herself was very passionate about her work, and it would only be a matter of time before she put that passion down in paint.

"You want something to eat?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "Or drink? I don't have any beer, but I've got juice. Oh, and chocolate milk."

Jason chuckled and reached for his gloves. "It's okay – I have to go, actually."

She actually pouted up at him. "So soon? You just got here, and I haven't seen you in forever – you've been working at the garage so much."

He nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, that's where I'm supposed to be right now. But how about we do something together later? I can drop by here around eight, if that's fine with you."

Elizabeth's grin was quick and brilliant. "I'll be waiting."

Jason had just finished a shift at the diner and had handed his apron off to Luke when Elizabeth finally appeared after a long day of classes. They had been missing each other for a couple days, and hadn't spent much time together since the night he took her out for another bike ride after talking to Max about the garage.

He was just about to take off when he turned to see her coming up the cobbled walkway. Her messenger bag was slung over her shoulder, her spring jacket was folded over her arm, and she held some sort of foil package in her hands, the contents of which she was greedily wolfing down.

"Hey," she smiled, licking away a dollop of yogurt with a flick of her tongue.

Jason just frowned at what she held in her hands. "What the hell is that?"

"A shawarma," she replied defensively, drawing the food away from him as if he'd reach out and snatch it from her. "It's good."

"You barely know what's in it – I don't know how you're actually eating it."

The brunette pouted up at him. "I do too know what's in it." Jason quirked an eyebrow at her and her frown deepened. "Okay, fine, I don't, but I trust Joy."

"Joy?"

"Joy's Shawarma Shoppe," she replied. "That's where I got it."

Jason did his best to suppress a smirk. Instead, he folded his arms solidly across his chest and fixed her with his most intimidating glare. "And you think this Joy is going to feed you better than I do?"

She couldn't help but laugh out loud. "She might – she's actually much nicer than you. And prettier, too."

"Really?" he teased, lunging for her, and he was rewarded with another squeal of laughter. "Maybe you should ask her to make you pancakes from now on."

That troubling thought sobered her up instantly. "I don't think she'd be too good at that."

"No?" he asked, only the twinkle in his eyes belying his serious expression.

"No," she replied, her lips twisting into a frown. "In fact, I think the only thing that girl knows how to make is shawarmas." She wrapped her fingers around the foil packet and lifted it up to him. "You want a bite?"

Jason blinked down at the proffered food. "No, thanks."

"Oh, come on, take a bite."

He gave in and Elizabeth lifted it to his lips, watching him take a bite that equaled two or three of hers. Jason chewed slowly and she noticed a glob of yogurt on the corner of his mouth. With his hands still on her waist, Elizabeth rose on her toes and swiped her thumb over the yogurt, pressing the digit to his lips and letting him lick it away. Jason was sorely tempted to pull her entire thumb into his mouth and show her what his tongue could really do, but somehow he managed to resist.

"What do you think?" She was peering up at him eagerly.

"Not bad," Jason replied slowly, swallowing the last of it. "Looks like I've got competition."

Elizabeth laughed at that and untangled herself from his arms. "What, you and your pancakes? Never." Patting his shoulder, she slipped past him through the open door into Kelly's. "Go take care of your garage – I'll see you later, Morgan."

Bobbie Spencer cast a quick glance around Kelly's to make sure all was in order before she turned off the lights and flipped the sign to read Closed. Luke could be heard shuffling around in the kitchen as he put his favorite Chef's hat away and grabbed his jacket. Even though the nights were becoming much warmer and spring was most definitely upon them, her best friend just couldn't go anywhere without his favorite corduroy jacket. "Luke! You coming?"

"One minute, Barbara," he called back. "I'll be right out."

"I'll be outside," she replied, pushing open the door and stepping into the warm night. Bobbie just stood there for a minute, inhaling the warm, misty air that carried with it the fragrant scent of approaching summer. In the faroff distance, she could hear singing, and as she stood and waited, the singing grew louder. Confused, Bobbie turned around and almost instantly came face-to-face with her young nephew as he strode up the cobbled walkway to the diner. "Jason!"

He stopped in his tracks, his wide eyes falling on his aunt. "Aunt Bobbie – what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," she replied pointedly, tipping her chin at the young woman he carried over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. The girl was still singing – something about minks – and her bare feet swayed to the beat. Her sandals, blue flip-flops, dangled from Jason's fingers.

"Skinamarinkie dinkie dink, skinamarinkie doo," she sang, sounding suspiciously like Elizabeth Webber. "I! Love! You! Doo doo doo doo - Skinamarinkie dinkie dink-"

Bobbie's eyes widened. "Elizabeth? Is that you?"

Jason's quick, terse nod confirmed it, and he motioned for her to take it easy. He had thrown the petite brunette over his shoulder as if she were a doll, and Bobbie could only gape at how comfortable and unconcerned the singing young woman was in her nephew's arms.

"Jason, what happened? What did you do to her?"

He lifted one shoulder in reply, shrugging lamely. "We went out to shoot a few games of pool, had a couple drinks…"

"You ever walked on stilts, Jason?" the brunette interrupted loudly, shifting her little bottom and clapping him once on the back. "It's not that great."

The older redhead was surprised to hear her nephew chuckle as he gently patted the small of Elizabeth's back. "You've told me that several times now."

"Well, you can't hear it enough," she informed him in a slurred voice. "Short people shouldn't ever use stilts." A brief pause. "Were you ever short, Jason? I don't think so. You couldn't have been. You're too tall to have ever been short."

He grinned at her warped logic and shrugged once more, feeling surprisingly guilty under his aunt's glare. The woman was looking at him like he had gone out and gotten Elizabeth plastered on purpose.

"How much did she have, Jason?"

Bobbie frowned when her nephew rolled his eyes. "It couldn't have been more than three beers, Aunt Bobbie – she's a total lightweight."

"Who are you talking to?" the brunette demanded, kicking his thigh lightly with her pink toes. "Ooh, is it that hobo that looks like Ross Perot? God, I love that guy. He thinks my name is Molly. Good man."

Jason's chest rumbled with laughter and he gently shifted his hold on Elizabeth, bringing her down from his shoulder and cradling her in his arms. "You remember my aunt Bobbie, right, Elizabeth?"

The redhead rested her cheek in her hand as the brunette's unfocused eyes met hers. The young woman was clearly drunk, and it was all her nephew's doing, she was certain. Her hair was open and cascaded freely in waves of chocolate silk, and her porcelain skin was lightly flushed. She was dressed in simple blue jeans and a thin white sweater which made her look quite young, and Bobbie had to admit the little brunette looked very comfortable indeed from her lofty perch in Jason's strong arms.

"Hi!" Elizabeth sang out gaily with an exaggerated wave. The alcohol had clearly done away with her depth perception because she just narrowly missed swiping Bobbie in the face. Doing her best to suppress a chuckle, the older woman grabbed the small hand in her wrinkled one and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I like your hat."

Jason smirked when his aunt frowned and patted her red hair. She wasn't wearing a hat.

Luke Spencer chose that moment to come sailing out of the diner, and the old man stopped cold behind his best friend when he saw who had joined her out front. His bewildered gaze traveled from Jason to Elizabeth and then back again, and the mechanic shifted his weight from foot to foot under the older man's suspicious eyes. "What's going on here?"

Elizabeth craned her neck in the direction of his voice and then excitedly turned her face into Jason's, smacking him on the chest. "Oh, Jason, it's Luke! I love Luke!"

"What the fuck did you do to her, Morgan?" the old man burst out, quickly stepping past Bobbie and cupping Elizabeth's cheek. "Jesus Christ – she should be lying down on a sponge!"

"I'm not-" Her indignant sputter was stopped short with a hiccup. "-drunk. I'm…what was the word again, Jason? Oh, yeah – trashed. I'm trashed. Whoo."

Luke could only shake his head at his favorite little waitress. "Darlin'-"

"And it's all Jason's fault, too," she announced loudly, wrapping one arm around his neck. "He's a bad boy, Luke – I don't think you should make him any of your chili. You'd better give it to me instead."

Jason was smirking down at her as Luke shook his head. "Get her upstairs and make sure she drinks plenty of water," the older man instructed sternly, wagging his finger in Jason's face. The mechanic almost laughed aloud when Elizabeth, fascinated by Luke's rapidly moving digit, tried to grab it and failed repeatedly.

"I will," he assured both his aunt and the overprotective cook. "Goodnight."

Bobbie pursed her lips as Jason reached for the doorknob while trying to maintain his grip on little Elizabeth. The way her nephew handled her wasn't lost on the older redhead – around the brunette, Jason was tender and light-hearted. She put a smile on his face with her little antics and Bobbie could practically see him puff out his chest when she was around, unofficially marking himself as her protector. She knew there was something more going on between the two of them, even if they were too stubborn to realize the same.

The little brunette dug her chin into Jason's shoulder and let one hand fall limply at his back. Her eyes fluttered half-closed as Bobbie watched Jason open the door and prop it with his foot. "Why do people worry so much about stuff, Jason? – It's all gonna work out."