Chapter Eighteen
Jason pulled off his gloves as he entered the diner, making sure to pull the door shut behind him. Everyone else was already asleep and he quietly made his way toward the kitchen.
The little diner was nice and warm tonight; his aunt always kept the heat somewhat high, just like she did at the Brownstone. Running a hand through his wind-tousled hair, Jason dropped his jacket atop one of the stools and prowled around in search of something to eat. It had been a long day and he was famished, dirty, and tired.
It didn't take long to fix up a number seven – no onions, of course – and he made sure to put everything away before he pulled himself onto the counter to scarf down his extremely late dinner. He had gotten up early that morning to sort through the plans for his almost-completed garage; even after construction was done, there was still all the wiring to think of, plus a million other details that were weighing down on his shoulders.
Then it had been a full day in the kitchen, trying to get food out to the customers and after that he had gone out to the garage site again to see how things were going. He had only spoken to Max two or three times since he came on the job; the Italian foreman was usually tucked away somewhere, working with the rest of his crew. But the other men were pleasant enough and told Jason everything he needed to know. After spending several hours there, he had managed to drag himself to his bike and drive home.
It had been one whole day since his fight with Elizabeth, and it was driving him crazy.
The little brunette had ignored him all day today, simply grabbing the plates of food from him and racing off to the customers. And as soon as her shift was over, she had flown out of the restaurant as if her pants were on fire, no doubt to find safe refuge in her studio.
To be honest, he didn't know what he was expecting or what he was hoping for. Maybe recognition instead of the stoic, blank look in her hard eyes; maybe a few angry barbs tossed his way as she practically wrenched a number two with extra pickles from his hand. At least if she was furious with him, she still felt something. He knew Elizabeth well enough to know that the little woman was never silent – and that was why he totally felt out of sorts with the silent treatment she was bestowing upon him.
Jason wiped his hands on his jeans and slid off the counter, grabbing his jacket and beginning the arduous trek up to his room. No doubt Elizabeth was camped out in her studio. He climbed wearily until he reached the landing, and a little yellow piece of paper attached to his door caught his eye.
Frowning, Jason tore the post-it from his door and squinted down at it in the darkness.
I am very mad at you.
He sighed and let his eyes trace over her loopy handwriting before crumpling the paper and tucking it into his pocket. Yeah, he wasn't too thrilled with himself either.
Elizabeth sighed and looked out her window before turning back to the canvas once more. There were few things in the world she hated more than having to paint without any inspiration to guide her strokes. And that was just what she was forced to do right now. Cavenaugh's project was due right before graduation, and her dancing couple wasn't looking right. The first painting had come out too soft, too…blah. There was no passion, no spark. It was dull and lackluster and though her classmates thought it was great when they all painted at the studio hall at PCU together, she still hated it. Absolutely hated it. Hopefully, this one would be better.
But she doubted it. It was a waste of time to even pick up the brush, and she never would have dreamed of doing so if graduation wasn't a mere week and a half away.
Ten days. Ten days and she'd be walking out the doors of Port Charles University for the last time with an Art History degree in her hands and a whole bunch of naïve, pretentious ideas about her future that would all come crashing down around her when she realized just how hard life as an artist cum ballerina was. Yeah, whoopee. Happy days were just here to stay.
She swirled her brush around in the red paint she had mixed earlier – a splash of metallic gold had made the color much richer and more fiery, and she hoped it would help convey the mood she wanted. Passion. Love. Trust. Complete and utterly unbreakable confidence in the partner.
She just wished she felt the same way in her own world, far removed from that of the canvas in front of her.
With a sigh, Elizabeth scraped the excess paint off her brush and left it and the palette on her workbench. Her ballet-style furry crimson bedroom slippers scuffled over the tiles as she walked over to her couch and crawled on top of it, unlatching the window screen. Pushing it out of the way, she wiggled out onto her balcony and slowly made her way to the railing, gripping it tightly with her hands as she stared up at the sky. Coming out onto the balcony usually helped her when she was stuck, and she hoped it would help her now.
The stars twinkled down from their lofty position in the heavens, utterly unconcerned with a trivial little thing such as her. Thinking better of it, Elizabeth sank down onto her knees and sat on the cool metal, letting her feet dangle out into the alley below that led to the docks. The water sparkled at her, dark inky waves lapping at the wood. Small golden lights adorning the adjacent buildings cast a soft if not somewhat eerie light on the waterfront. Beyond that lay the streets of Port Charles, their motionless tranquility interrupted by the occasional late-night motorist.
It looked like a picture – good enough to paint.
Still, that wasn't inspiration enough.
Elizabeth tucked her chin into her hand and stared at the building right by the docks. Kelly's diner. The lights were all out in the windows that she could see; everyone was fast asleep. Looking at the brick building made her scowl, so she quickly trained her gaze back onto the dark water of the lake.
Two days. Two days since her fight with Jason, and it was driving her crazy.
Nothing worked right. She couldn't even get through her stretches on the bar without thinking about him; studying didn't seem to do the trick either because she could still hear him yelling at her. Asshole.
But that was the last thing she wanted to think about; after all, she had thought about it enough as she went through a pint of Death by Chocolate ice cream while listening to her Carmen soundtrack for the millionth time. Enough was enough. It was supposed to be simple; Jason was just supposed to be her way back into the game. For some reason, she had decided to play the part of the good girl that was always home by curfew and never let any young punk put his hands all over her. For some reason, she had held out for hope that the whole thing about that one guy was the real deal – that the one guy was out there, waiting for her, and she'd do her part by waiting for him. That had been a load of crap. Her good-girl ways had gotten her nowhere; she was still the black sheep as far as her parents were concerned and she was alone. She had to get into the swing of things sometime – there had to be some guy that would have to be her first fling – and for a while, that guy had been Jason. But then things had gotten complicated. And now, she was angry, disappointed, humiliated, and still alone.
It was times like this that really made her remember her childhood wish of being able to retreat into her paintings. There was a reason that Mary Poppins had always been her favorite movie as a little girl – that scene when Bert, Mary, Jane, and little Michael jumped into that vibrant chalk painting and spent a glorious day at the carnival really spoke to her. As a small child with a brand new pack of shiny, beeswax crayons, she had really believed that if she wished hard enough, she could jump into her drawing and spend a day at the zoo with her stick-figure friends. As she had grown older, she had looked back on her favorite scene and seen it for the metaphor that it was; by fully exploring and utilizing her own creativity and imagination, she could create an entire world of her own and invite her audience to come enjoy it with her.
But there were still those moments when the little girl inside her would pout sadly and wish to be transported away to a land of rich, warm colors of her own making.
The stars weren't of any help tonight, so Elizabeth abandoned them just as they had abandoned her. Climbing back into her studio, she drew the blinds and shuffled wearily back over to her painting. The paint on her palette was beginning to crust at the edges and she wet her brush once before swirling it in the rich red color again.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, the brunette lifted her brush to the rough canvas and picked up where she had abruptly left off. It just wouldn't do to let her mind wander. Especially when she had her doubts over whether the guy it always wandered back to was worth it or not. He had been as cold as ice for the past two days – he really was a living block of frozen concrete, as she had only half-jokingly told him on that fateful morning in the kitchen at Kelly's. Not a word, not a glance, no indication whatsoever that he cared one way or another. Remembering back to his little promise to leave her a note if they ever fought again, Elizabeth had decided on a hasty, bitter whim to beat him to it. After spending eight hours straight without even exchanging a single civil word, she had stomped up to her room, grabbed her things, and left a post-it on his door letting him know that she didn't in fact have laryngitis – she was just really pissed off.
The red paint glistened under the masterful strokes of her brush and Elizabeth bit her lip, concentrating hard as the painting began to come into view. Her vision was before her, and since inspiration didn't seem likely to ring the doorbell any time soon, she'd just have to take it into her own hands. The painting would be finished, one way or another.
Emily Bowen-O'Brien's emerald eyes followed her best friend as the brunette walked briskly across the diner with two orders of hamburgers. Next to her, her husband was on the phone with one of his assisting editors. The paper came out the following day and naturally, there was a problem at the printers'. It never failed.
Jason came out of the kitchen just then and Emily's eyes fell on him. She watched as he reached for the coffee pot and put it on before mopping down a small spill on the counter. He looked ragged, tired, and irritable. No shock there. Kelly's was a little short-handed tonight; two of the waitresses had called in and so the remaining ones had to double up. Across the diner, Elizabeth looked just as tired and surly, a striking contrast to her normally sunny disposition.
Johnny finished up his call and set his phone down, crossing his arms over the table as he watched his wife frown silently at her best friend. He nudged her affectionately with his shoulder and she started for a moment before offering him a small smile. "What's goin' on?"
"Take a look for yourself," she shrugged, jutting her chin at Elizabeth and Jason, who stood at opposite ends of the diner with their backs to each other. "Someone call JFK – we've got another Cold War on our hands."
Johnny's green eyes fell on Elizabeth as the young woman jotted down an order. "I thought things were working out – what happened?"
His wife shrugged wearily. "They fought."
"About what?"
"Let's just say that Jason chose the wrong time to get jealous," the redhead muttered under her breath, leaning into her husband's side. "He went off on her right after she found out she didn't make the program."
Johnny's eyes widened. "Poor kid."
Emily nodded sadly and picked at the rip on her jeans. She and Johnny were the only two people Elizabeth had told about the rejection and though she had always respected her best friend's penchant for privacy, she personally felt that if she just let Jason know why she had been so upset that night, he'd bend over backwards immediately to make her feel better. Because from what Elizabeth had previously told her about the mechanic, Jason was just that kind of guy.
"It's all just a big misunderstanding," she sighed, resting her head on Johnny's broad shoulder. "And they're both just too stupid to do anything about it."
"How long has it been?" her husband wanted to know as he took a sip of her diet soda.
"Three days."
He quirked a dark brow at her. "Huh. Elizabeth's never been mad at anyone that long – well, except her parents, but that's a given."
"I know," Emily nodded, leaning back in her seat. "I mean, remember that time at my bachelorette party? We both sat in jail for the whole night with the girls and she was mad at me for two days, tops."
Johnny just shook his head and took another swig from her glass. He had to hand it to his wife – she really lucked out when it came to friends. Any other person would have run for the hills a long time ago, but Elizabeth was still around. He knew how important she was to Emily – hell, she was important to him, too – and he hated to think of her being hurt in any way. That was why he had announced his plans to personally castrate any of his interns that got fresh with her during Operation: Make Jason Jealous, but that was another story.
The petite brunette had just finished jotting down the latest order and now strode across the diner to the counter, behind which Jason was fixing himself another cup of coffee. The mechanic's head snapped back to look at her when she ripped the piece of paper out of her pad and slammed it down on the countertop before spinning around and walking away to refill more sodas. Emily watched as the older man rolled his eyes and scowled, snatching up the paper and disappearing into the kitchen once more.
Huffing with irritation, the redhead grabbed her glass of soda from her husband's hand and took a sullen sip before whirling around to face him. "What the hell is wrong with them? What the hell happened to 'oh, Em, he's such a great guy and I can talk to him about anything'? Huh? What the hell happened to that? They're both…ugh! I can't even think of a word to describe them! They're…"
"They're idiots," came a voice from behind them and both husband and wife looked over their shoulders to see Bobbie Spencer shake her head to herself before disappearing once more behind her newspaper.
Jen and Lisa opened their bedroom doors at the same time, both bleary-eyed and groggy. Mornings blew chunks. Penny and Seth were both in the hallway already, fully dressed and looking way too alert for either twin's liking.
Muffling a yawn with the sleeve of her purple terrycloth robe, Lisa shuffled over to her friends and Jen followed suit, pulling her long hair back into a ponytail. Joining the pair, they managed to catch the tail end of the conversation.
"Hey, what's up with Lizbits?" Seth wanted to know as Penny helped him fix his tie. "I stole the last of her apricot scrub last night and she didn't even hit me. She feelin' okay?"
"See, how can you expect to be caught up on everything when you spend so much time at work?" Penny demanded, jerking the knot and tightening the silk noose around his neck.
Seth shrugged. "I know you gossip whores will keep me up to speed."
Lisa smirked and elbowed her half-conscious sister who appeared to be trying to sleep against the railing. "Hey, it's six-thirty in the morning and we've already been called whores. That's gotta be some sort of record."
"Can I sleep against the wall while you kick his butt for that?" Jen inquired, scrubbing a hand over her face as her twin rolled her eyes.
"Seriously, what's wrong with the pipsqueak?" Seth demanded as Penny finished working on his tie.
At that moment, Jason's bedroom door flew open and Penny's piercing eyes told Seth to keep it quiet for the next two minutes or until Jason was safely out of earshot. Next to them, Lisa elbowed Jen and her sister snapped to attention, standing by awkwardly as the older man hurriedly zipped up his jacket while trying to lock his door at the same time.
Seth quirked an eyebrow at the girls when the bathroom door opened to reveal Elizabeth dressed in her silky robe with a towel wrapped around her head. Jason looked up, surprised, then turned back to his lock with a scowl. The little brunette ignored him completely as she dried her hair and slipped into her bedroom, letting the door slam shut behind her. Within seconds, Jason was tumbling down the stairs and a minute later, they heard his bike roar to a start before he sped off to the garage.
Penny quirked a brow back at Seth. "Still need an answer to that question?" she asked blandly.
The dark-haired reporter straightened his tie and tipped his head at Elizabeth's closed door. "Trouble in Paradise?"
Jen and Lisa glanced at each other and then the door. "Four days and counting."
Her painting sucked pond scum.
Staring at the canvas in front of her, Elizabeth scowled. She wanted to take her knife and rip it to shreds. It was just that God-awful. The colors she had thought seemed warm and rich just looked flat and garish, slathered on the rough canvas like lipstick on a prostitute. The dancing couple would have been lost in the sea of obscene color – but they weren't. Instead, the couple that was supposed to be her subject looked as if they were squaring off, two darkened figures in a mesh of red, orange, yellow, gold. The arms that were raised to accept the other in a perfect embrace looked as if they were lifted to strike; the vibrant colors that were supposed to be a soft haze enveloping the lovers looked more like fuel added to a burning, angry, spiteful fire.
The painting sucked pond scum.
Elizabeth scrubbed her hands wearily over her face and abandoned the easel. Moving slowly on her bare feet, she managed to flop down on the couch and lay there for a few long moments, just staring at the ceiling. First, she didn't have enough spark. Now, she had so much spark that the dancing couple looked like a pair of street fighters. Forget the happy medium.
But she was almost relieved that there wasn't time to redo the painting; she didn't think she could do it anyway. Graduation was the upcoming Saturday, and her project was due on Thursday. She'd just hope to talk it off as two different takes on a dancing couple – flat and platonic, and fiery and vengeful. That would have to work, because that was all Cavenaugh was getting.
There was a crack in the ceiling that earned itself a dark scowl, and Elizabeth angrily flopped over on her stomach. This studio was driving her crazy. Hell, everything was driving her crazy. Her own bad mood was driving her crazy. And to think that she was in such a funk all over some stupid guy was just…bah. She needed to get out.
Glancing at her watch, Elizabeth sighed and pushed herself up off the couch. It was April's birthday today and since her fellow-waitress still had to work at her part-time bartending job at the PC Grille, she had thought she'd go cheer her up with some homemade brownies later. But sooner was looking better than later, especially since she was liable to drive herself crazy if she just stayed in her studio.
Picking a long brown skirt from her closet, Elizabeth grabbed a thin crimson sweater and quickly changed. A pair of knee-high leather boots completed the outfit and she grabbed her little Tupperware container of special birthday brownies and headed out the door.
Jason cut quickly across the docks, his leather jacket open and flapping against him with each step. After a long day at the diner and then the garage, he was completely exhausted. If he was lucky, Luke would have saved some chili or something for him in the refrigerator, and he'd scarf that down as quickly as possible so that he could go upstairs and collapse. The way he was feeling, it would be a miracle if he didn't fall asleep halfway up.
The water lapped against the docks as he continued to stride across the planks and inevitably, his gaze strayed up to the window of Elizabeth's studio. It was late and he was expecting her to be asleep, which was precisely why he was greatly surprised to see the light on. The shade was pulled down and he could make out her silhouette. Pausing, Jason stared up at the pale block of golden light. It was her, all right – he'd recognize that figure anywhere. She was outlined perfectly against the drawn shade and he could see her jerky movements; she was furiously lifting her arm up and down, twisting from side to side, and succeeding in completely alarming him.
Forgetting their feud, Jason leapt to action and ran across the planks, his boots thundering over the wood. He took the stairs three at a time and cut through the alley that led to the rear entrance. It didn't take him long to get inside and once he was, he raced up the stairs with incredible energy, breathing a sigh of relief when he reached her floor. Three large steps had him right in front of her door and he rapped insistently on the metal. No response came so Jason balled his hands into fists and practically pounded it away, mentally giving her ten seconds before he picked the lock.
In the end, he didn't even have to wait that long. The door flew open and Elizabeth stared up at him curiously. Her hair was down and mussed and she was barefoot, coming up barely to his chin. Jason could only gape down at her. The little brunette wore a long brown skirt that fell past her ankles and pooled on the floor, and her snug crimson sweater fit her like a glove – except for the fact that several of the top buttons were undone and gave him a generous view of her cleavage and just a glimpse of her matching scarlet bra. He was so busy wondering if she was wearing the matching thong that he had seen in her shopping bag a long while ago that he almost missed the half-finished bottle of tequila in her hand.
"Whaddaya want?" she demanded, glaring up at him with the most adorable pout he'd ever seen. "Go play in traffic, Morgan. I'm busy."
He winced at the blaring music – some Italian operetta. Only Elizabeth would blast an opera at top volume. "Doing what? Driving every dog in New England out of its mind?"
Scowling, Elizabeth whirled around clumsily and almost tripped over her skirt. "Go 'way." Her less than graceful movements prompted his concern and fortunately for her, Jason was able to grab her right before she crashed to the floor. "Hey! When I say 'go 'way', I don't mean that you should feel me up. Leggo!"
"Elizabeth, you're drunk," he sighed, wrapping his hands around her tiny waist and struggling to support her kicking, squirming body.
"I am not," she denied vehemently. "Not yet, anyway. And trust me, boy, you'd know it when I was drunk! Oh, would you!"
Letting out a gruff sigh that sounded more like a growl, Jason kicked her door shut with his heel and scooped her up off the floor. Her skirt twisted with the movement, baring a strip of creamy skin and two dark red straps. Ha – he'd been right. She was indeed wearing the red thong.
"For your information," she huffed, squirming and wriggling against him so much that he almost dropped her on his way to the couch, "this bottle was already open. I haven't had much. And I'm not sharing, so you can just go soak your head."
He cradled her in his arms and braced one foot on the armrest of the couch to further support the wiggling minx, arranging the cushions before he gently laid her down on them. As soon as he had withdrawn his hands, Elizabeth indignantly scooted back and sat against the far end of the couch with her knees pulled up against her chest, holding the bottle of tequila protectively and glaring darkly at him as if he was going to take it from her.
Jason backed off a step and shrugged out of his jacket, prompting Elizabeth to glower at him.
"Hey! Whaddaya doin' that for?" she demanded, not noticing that the slit of her skirt was now twisted around to her front, baring a lengthy expanse of her shapely legs to his smoldering gaze. "I told you to get lost, Morgan. So, go."
He ignored her, his blue eyes sweeping around her studio. There were puddles of paint on the floor and her brushes were strewn haphazardly all over the place. He jabbed the power button on the stereo and noticed that the stretched canvases that she always kept stored in neat piles in the corner had been kicked all over the place, and the painting on her easel had been slashed almost beyond recognition. Squinting, Jason could make out the dark blues and blacks that comprised nothing other than his bicycle – it was the painting that had allowed both of them to camp out under the stars for hours with nothing but warm coffee and the crickets to keep them company.
She was picking at her fingernails with a hint of a pout on her lips when Jason finally looked back at her. Feeling his gaze come to a rest on her, Elizabeth reluctantly raised her eyes to his. The mechanic tilted his head to the side and just looked at her.
"What happened?"
His voice was soft, unassuming, even tender and despite her best attempts, it cracked through her defenses. Sticking her bottom lip out a bit, Elizabeth ran her fingertip over the rim of her tequila bottle.
"Men are assholes."
The tears in her voice damn near broke his heart and Jason raked a hand through his tousled dark spikes. "Present company included."
The corner of her mouth quirked up at the reference to their late-night conversation at Kelly's when she had all but fallen asleep in his lap. Instead of replying, Elizabeth lifted the bottle to her lips and threw her head back, taking a big gulp. "Well, present company better kick my ass the next time I think about going to the Grille."
That was mumbled under her breath and Jason blinked down at her, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?"
She rolled her eyes and shifted, tucking her legs underneath herself but remaining completely oblivious to the fact that her sweater was almost halfway unbuttoned. "Nothing."
"You went to the Grille?"
She bristled now under his words, her mood sufficiently darker, and Jason was already sliding over to sit on the armrest on the opposite side of the couch from her when Elizabeth directed a dark glare squarely at him. "I don't want to talk about this, okay?"
Her behavior was setting off all kinds of red flags, and Jason frowned. "Elizabeth-"
"Damn it, Jason-"
"No," he cut her off smoothly, sliding off the armrest and moving to the cushions right next to her. His hand curled into the red fabric and he stared firmly right back at her. "Elizabeth, if something happened that-"
"Nothing happened, okay?" she burst out, throwing her hands in the air and sloshing a little tequila onto the couch. "What, all of a sudden you actually care? I'm fine, Morgan – just fucking fine. Nothing happened, so get over yourself and get lost."
His eyes hardened and Jason pursed his lips. "Elizabeth-"
"God, will you stop saying my name?" she exclaimed, exasperated. With a shake of her head and a huff, the little brunette rose from the couch and hastily tugged her skirt into place before stumbling a few steps toward the door. "I-I can't do this. I have to go."
"What?" She was in no condition to go anywhere and Jason was instantly on his feet and moving after her. "Why?"
Elizabeth spun around to face him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. "Because I'm not going to cry in front of you again, goddammit!" she yelled, covering her mouth to hide the quivering lip that gave her away.
Furious with herself, the little brunette swiped at her eyes to remove the liquid humiliation that pooled there as Jason stared at her in shock. She tried to reach for the door but the mechanic instantly shook himself out of it and lunged for her, grabbing her by the waist and yanking her back. The quick movement almost jerked her off her feet and Elizabeth crashed into his chest, trying to glare daggers at him while keeping her glistening eyes lowered.
Wordlessly, Jason cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her silky hair, and pulled her close. She resisted at first but then stopped, pressing her face hard into his chest. He heard her sniffle against his shirt and let out a harsh cough, refusing to indulge in a sob.
One strong arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her firmly against him and Jason gently rubbed her rigid back with his hand. She refused to relax against him and he slowly leaned down, wrapping her up in his arms. The young woman whimpered and Jason lowered his lips near her ear.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth." Forgetting himself, he let his lips brush over the shell of her ear before he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry."
And that was all it took for the dam to break. Her dainty fingers curled tightly into his t-shirt, the polished nails digging into his skin. She melted against him, her breath coming in short gasps as she hiccupped and sobbed against him. Elizabeth clung to him fiercely, accepting the warm comfort he offered, and Jason kept his lips pressed hard to her temple.
When she had calmed down, he gently smoothed a hand up and down her back. His nose tickled the smooth skin at her temples as he rocked her gently in his arms. "What happened?"
"I'm through."
Jason's sandy brows furrowed. "Through with what?"
"Through with men." She scratched her nose against his t-shirt and didn't notice his surprise.
"W-Why?" he asked, praying all the while she wasn't serious.
"Horny, arrogant assholes."
The first word caught his attention and Jason placed his hands on the little brunette's shoulders and peered down at her with alarm. "Elizabeth – did something happen? Did someone-"
She rolled her eyes and pulled out of his grasp, retreating once more to the safety of her couch and tequila. Stunned, Jason stood still for a moment before whirling around and following her. He was afraid that she wouldn't tell him – that whatever had her in this funk was too terrible to recount – and his heart was already racing like a jackhammer.
"Standards at the Grille aren't what they used to be," the young woman mumbled around the neck of her bottle. "They'll let in any slick-haired prick in a cheap suit." He waited for her to continue and she did – after another small sip of her drink. "Today was April's birthday – did you know that?" Jason shook his head and Elizabeth frowned. "Typical guy. Anyway, I made her brownies and I took them to the Grille because she had to work today – on her birthday! Imagine that."
He scooted closer to her on the couch, trying his hardest not to look at her smooth calves as they poked out from under her skirt. "We were at the bar because she was taking a five minute break, and then I think her manager called her back." Elizabeth stretched languidly as she spoke, and Jason blinked in surprise when she threw her legs lazily across his lap. But he knew better than to say anything and instead settled one large hand over her ankles.
"This guy with greasy hair comes up to the bar and sits down next to me." She was scowling at her bottle and didn't notice how Jason's eyes slowly grew stormy. "First, he tried to buy me a drink and when I said no…" He steeled his jaw but managed to keep quiet. "He kept insisting. I guess I might have been flirting around with him a little in the beginning so he thought… I don't know. Ric – I think that was his name - he just got in my face. When I tried to leave, he stood and kinda blocked me-" The brunette shook her head and whisked her hair back from her face, missing the way Jason's fingers curled into tight fists. "Tom was on duty and he got that prick out of there. Then I came home."
Some of the tension seemed to leave his body, but Jason was still seething inwardly. In the end, her date from the last week seemed to prove more useful than that Drew loser; at least he made sure that asshole was taken away.
Elizabeth shook her head and took another swig from her bottle. "See? I told you – no big deal."
He glared at her, knowing that she was just bluffing but unable to contain himself. "It is a big deal, Elizabeth – no man has the right to…Dammit, if I had been there-"
"Spare me the dramatics," she replied, still surly. "I don't need you around to protect me, Morgan."
His icy blue eyes softened and Jason just tilted his head at her, letting his hand close lightly around her narrow ankles. "I want to be around to protect you."
It must have been the tequila that made her entire body fill with warmth. He was just sitting there, his fingers tenderly dancing over her ankles, his arm stretched out across the back of the couch towards her. There was an emotion that shined through his intense eyes, an emotion she dared not put into words, and suddenly it was impossible to be angry with him.
"I want you around, too."
Her voice was quiet and soft, but it sounded like a rumble of thunder in the silent room. Neither of them said anything more; words just didn't seem to be needed. Elizabeth was still playing with her bottle of tequila when Jason reached out and grabbed it from her, setting it on the little table behind him. Frowning, she scooted forward, practically into his lap, in her attempt to retrieve it.
"Hey, give that back!"
He chuckled and managed to keep her just out of reach of the desired beverage. "Why do you need tequila when you've got me?" he teased.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and continued her futile attempts to lunge for the bottle even as Jason wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled them further toward the other end of the couch. "Please – I bet you don't taste nearly as good as that stuff does."
She was clearly a little too buzzed to understand the innuendo in her words, but poor, sober Jason wasn't. He groaned and pulled her back more firmly, plopping her back on the cushions and glaring at her when she tried to move.
"Fine," the brunette huffed. "I'll wait until you leave."
Jason just smirked. "I'm not going anywhere, Elizabeth." He frowned when she huffed with disbelief. "I'm not."
Her slim legs were thrown over his lap once more, and Elizabeth kicked her heels on her yellow afghan. "Everyone leaves, Jason; I wouldn't blame you if you did."
His rough fingertips swept over her cheek, tucking her silky hair behind the delicate shell of her ear, and Jason gently took her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. "Nothing you do or say could make me leave, Elizabeth."
The brunette stared back at him blankly. "I didn't get into the ballet program."
Jason blinked. "What?"
"The ballet program. The one I was supposed to start in the fall if I got accepted." She whisked her hair out of her eyes and stared at him. "I didn't."
The mechanic let out a controlled breath, scrubbing his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry."
Elizabeth hunkered down in place, leaning against the back of the couch. "Me, too. That was my whole plan – graduate in a week, work full time over the summer, head to Albany and take it from there. Well, I botched that one up good. Just one more tally mark on the ol' Failure Chart."
His thumb absently swept over her temples as he combed her hair back. "When did you find out?"
"Five days ago."
Jason winced when it occurred to him what else had happened five days ago. "And I wasn't much help, was I?"
Elizabeth shrugged, lifting one shoulder dejectedly. "Doesn't matter now."
A muscle in his jaw ticked and with a sigh, Jason wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "C'mere." She scooted forward willingly and curled up against his side, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have seen how upset you were before I jumped on you."
She sniffled and squirmed against him, pressing her cheek hard to his solid chest. "Why did you?"
Yeah, now definitely wasn't the best time to admit that he had been jealous and bitter. "Just…in a bad mood."
"I…What you said about…about Tom and the others…"
Jason cringed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I know. I had no right to go off that way on you."
She nibbled on her lower lip and made sure to avert her gaze. "It really hurt, Jason. I'm not that kind of girl."
His heart almost broke right there, and Jason was sure to call himself every single foul word he could think of. "I know, I know you're not, Elizabeth. I didn't mean it the way it came out. I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm sorry that I did."
She nodded, accepting his apology and the soothing feeling of his fingers combing through her hair. "Well, it doesn't matter now anyway. I'm done. Done with men."
There it was again – that troublesome declaration. "What do you mean?"
Elizabeth snorted. "What do you think I mean? I'm done with…with dating and guys and all this crap." And she meant it – she fully intended to quit her dating spree and tell Johnny that while it meant a lot that he helped out, she didn't need him or his flirty interns anymore. "I'm so tired of waiting for the right guy, if there is such a thing. I mean, I've been dating since I was fifteen – where the hell is he?"
Jason didn't exactly have an answer, so he settled for resting his head lightly against her soft hair.
"Is it too much to ask to just win once?" she wanted to know, wishing she had her bottle of tequila again. "You try to be the good girl and sit around and wait for Prince Charming, but he never comes. And then you just try to get back in the game and be a normal person and that doesn't work either – you either meet really sweet guys that you're just not attracted to or horny assholes that you want to call the cops on. There's no happy medium." She sighed forlornly and curled into him again, as if trying to hide from the world. "There's got to be something wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Elizabeth," Jason cut in smoothly and firmly. He was not about to let her wander down that path – ever. "You're perfect."
That last part was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but thanks to her mild tequila buzz, Elizabeth didn't pick up on it as she might have if she had been sober. "You have to say that," the little brunette informed him, poking him hard in the chest with her index finger. "You're my best friend."
Jason's sandy brows shot up; that was the last thing he had been expecting to hear from her mouth when he was running down the docks to her studio. "What?"
"What?"
He blinked down at her. "I'm your best friend?"
The sleepy brunette beauty frowned up at him. "Don't you want to be my best friend?"
Aw, hell. There was no way to tell her that he wanted to be more than that, so Jason settled on just rubbing one hand up and down her back. "I thought Emily was your best friend."
She yawned against him and nodded. "Who says you gotta have just one?"
"You're right." He chuckled to himself and rested his cheek against her dark hair. It felt so natural, to be sitting curled up on the couch with her like this. "When did that happen?"
She was barely paying attention, and her eyes were beginning to droop. "Huh? When did what happen?"
"When did I become your best friend?" he whispered into the chocolate locks, his voice low and rough.
Elizabeth squirmed until she was comfortable again and rubbed her eyes with one hand. "I dunno." He waited until she finally continued. "Mm. I'm just comfortable with you, Jason. You're nice, you make me feel good about myself, you always listen to me and I can tell you pretty much anything. And I always feel safe when I'm with you."
His soft voice cut through the light haze she had slipped into, jarring her awake. "You're my best friend, too, then."
She smiled despite herself. "Good to know."
There was a long pause and he was almost certain she had fallen asleep until she spoke up.
"Jason?"
"What?"
"Let's not do this again."
"Not do what again?"
"Fight."
She pressed her forehead against his neck and he settled his hand possessively over her smooth knees. "Okay," he agreed softly. "No more fights, no more angry Post-Its. Can you handle that, Webber?"
"No more angry Post-Its," she repeated, smiling against him. "What about sardonic Post-Its? Those allowed?"
"No."
"You take the fun out of everything."
A long, comfortable silence stretched out between them like a blanket once more. A light breeze drifted in through the open window, rattling the shade, and Jason stretched languidly on the couch, thoroughly enjoying her weight on his body.
"Jason?"
"Aren't you asleep yet?"
"Mmphth."
"What is it?"
"I ruined your bike."
There was unmistakable sadness in her voice and Jason glanced down at the torn canvas that lay in shreds on the floor.
"It's okay."
"No, it's not – I ruined your bike."
He held her tightly, squeezing her shoulder for a moment before relaxing his hold. "Nothing that can't be fixed, Elizabeth."