They both let out a small laugh, looking at each other in surprise.
"Quincy," she said, acknowledging him standing before her.
"Harrison," he replied, shaking his head in the twist of fate that lead them both to the same street corner at 2:30 in the morning.
"You stalking me or something?" she asked with a grin.
"Oh yes, after five years, I suddenly decided to track your every move," he replied with a smirk. They stood in silence for another couple of moments, still stunned by their offbeat encounter.
"So…" Jude started, not knowing where to begin.
"So…" Tommy repeated, also sensing the unease with the situation. He sighed and looked at her fidgeting with the edge of her sweatshirt uncomfortably. "Okay, this is weird, right?"
"Very weird," she agreed, releasing the breath that she had been holding.
"We haven't talked to each other in five years and then we see each other twice in one day. That's bizarre, right?" he questioned.
"That's beyond bizarre. It's…it's…" Fate, she couldn't help but think, "It's a fluke."
"Definitely," he agreed. "So, where are you heading?"
"Home, actually," she replied. "I've been walking for about an hour, so I figured it was time to head back."
"Where's home?" he asked curiously.
"Right over there," she pointed across the street to a mid-size building with a green awning.
"No way," he muttered quietly, following the path of her finger.
"What?" she asked, hearing his faint reaction. "What is it?"
He turned back around and looked at her, his jaw slightly agape. "Well, I live over there…" he said quietly, pointing to the opposite corner on the next block.
Her jaw dropped looking at how close they lived. "Are you serious?"
"Totally serious. I've lived there for about two years now."
"Wow…" she said, totally in shock, glancing back and forth between the two locations. "You mean that we've been living one block from each other and only ran into each other today?"
"Looks like it," he responded distantly, dazed from all of the coincidences they were experiencing. "I think we're officially moving from bizarre to just plain shocking."
"Agreed," she said quietly.
"So…do you feel like maybe grabbing a cup of coffee?" he asked hesitantly.
"Now?" she responded, her reaction coming off a little sharper than she had intended.
"Well, if you're tired, we can do it another time," he said quickly. "I just thought since we keep bumping into each other, maybe we should actually sit down and catch up."
"No," she said promptly, still flustered but struggling to recover, "I mean—no, I'm not tired actually. I was just heading back because I thought I should…but coffee…yeah…that could be good." She gave him a small grin as full acceptance of his offer and they quietly started walking down the street towards the 24-hour diner.
"A writer? Really?" he asked in surprise.
"Yeah…I mean, it's more like journalism, not really creative writing. I interview bands and artists for monthly features in Mix Magazine."
"So no music? No recording or singing?" he asked, a trace of disappointment in his voice. "Nope," she said quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed by her response.
"Why? I mean, you're entitled to your decisions, but…when did you decide this?"
"Awhile ago actually," she replied hesitantly, sipping the hot coffee in her mug. "It just didn't feel right anymore."
"So your third album? That was your last?"
"Yep," she agreed, hiding her face behind the mug. "That was it. I don't think I've picked up a guitar in years."
He slumped back in the booth and scratched his head, trying to comprehend what she was saying.
"That's too bad…honestly, I always thought you'd continue breaking album records, performing in packed stadiums. I guess I never thought that it wouldn't be what you wanted," he uttered, seeing her troubled reaction.
"Things change," she mumbled with a shrug.
He faintly nodded, still trying to understand, but continued. "So, do you like working at Mix?"
"Yeah, it's okay, I guess," she said somewhat apathetically. "I majored in writing in college, so this job seemed like it would be a really good combination of music and writing."
He nodded in agreement. "I'm sure it is. I never would've pictured you in the corporate world."
"It's not really corporate," she replied a little defensively. "We're writers, we oppose structure."
"Right," he said with a grin.
"So what about you? What are you up to?" she asked optimistically, hoping to change the subject.
"Well, I'm doing some work for a friend over at Innovations Records," he answered.
"Still producing?"
"Still producing," he confirmed. "Although it's not quite the same as it used to be. No one knows who I am here, which has actually become a good thing. No preconceived notions about me or what kind of music I'm into."
"Yeah, I understand that," Jude muttered softly in response, sipping her coffee again.
He sat back in the booth again and stared at her for a brief moment, deeply sighing. The conversation grew quiet as she looked up at him and felt the intensity of his stare.
"What?" she asked, scrutinizing his expression.
"Nothing," he said quietly. "I just…this is all so strange…seeing you twice in one day after five years of not seeing you at all."
"I know," she agreed.
He leaned forward, resting his weight against the table between them, and looked into her eyes.
"Jude? I have to know…what happened to make you stop singing?"
She felt herself immediately blush as she scooted further back on the seat, looking away from his gaze. "I told you, it just didn't feel right."
"But why? The Jude Harrison I know would never have given up music. Music and singing were her life."
"Well, I've grown up, Tommy," she said shortly, looking him right in the eye. "A lot has changed over the last five years."
"I know," he began, staring up at the ceiling, "But to lose interest in the music? That just doesn't make sense."
"Tommy…" she started, trying to stop him from asking any more questions.
"You lived and breathed making music. I just can't believe that you could just give it all up—"
"Tommy—" she tried again to cut him off.
"Where did that fire go? That passion when you created a song? How could you just—"
"It's gone, Tommy! That passion, that love of music, it's gone. It left when you did!" she shouted, as he stared at her in disbelief. She suddenly realized that her voice had echoed throughout the restaurant and the few other patrons had turned to look at her. She slumped down into the booth and shielded her face with her hands. Softly, she murmured, "I lost my inspiration."
A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but if you like it, then I'll post the next one really quickly (like hopefully tomorrow, as long as I'm home). Thanks for the reviews!