Chapter 3

The first thing that struck Isabella as she pushed the heavy wooden doors open was the heavy smell of beer in the air. It seemed to stick to every surface and made her feel sick at first, before she got used to it. The unwelcome reminder of her own home back in Forks was the real trouble. Rock music poured out of the speakers and filled the room; Isabella could not identify the band to tell if it was even obscure or popular. The people in the bar seemed to be enjoying it though, as she saw several people bobbing their heads along to it, or clapping their hands against their knees to the beat. The whole room seemed to be focused on the small platform that stood off to the left in the dark, and she wondered what could be drawing such interest. She was sure Jasper had told her he didn't start until 9 o'clock…

Isabella checked her phone just in case.

Just then the bartender called out to her. She was dressed all in black and wore her platinum blonde hair tied up in a bun.

"What's your poison?" she inquired with a crooked grin.

"Just the house red for me, please," she replied. With that, the woman turned away to get her drink. Isabella quickly approached the bar and chose a stool conveniently placed beside her. She began to rifle through her bag for her purse as the bartender was returning, but before she could find it Jasper was there handing her a $10 bill.

Isabella looked up at him with a smile. "Thanks, Jasper." She pulled a $5 note out of her purse and held it out to him.

"Keep it. My treat," he smiled. For that Isabella stood and gave him a hug. "It's not as if I can't afford it, is it?" he laughed.

"This is true!"

"So what do you want?" he asked her as she took a sip of wine. "Nachos? Skinny fries?" He gestured for the bartender to come back, who he called by name as Erin.

"Oh, I already ate. Sorry!" Isabella's expression was truly apologetic.

"Ah, no worries… Can I get a Budweiser, please?" he said, speaking to Erin.

"So how was your day?" was Isabella's next inquiry. It was a Saturday, so they had not met that morning on the subway. She did not have much of an idea of how he spent his weekends; she supposed this was a good opportunity to find out.

"Mine was good, I just met up with a couple of friends who I haven't seen for a while—not since I lived in Texas."

"You used to live in Texas?" She had not detected any kind of southern drawl that people joked about (dreamed about) in Washington.

"Not for fifteen years. You wouldn't know I had ever lived there at all from my accent… You look somehow disappointed, Bella," he said with a half smile. At that point his beer arrived and he handed Erin the other half of the $10 bill.

"I'm not disappointed, just surprised. Under all of that New York is actually a southerner."

"You make it sound like a dirty word!" he exclaimed with a laugh, jokingly punching her in the arm. She pretended to rub her arm in pain.

"It's not meant that way, honestly." Her smile was genuine enough, so he chose to believe her. She took another sip of wine.

"So where are you from? I have revealed my southern roots—now let's hear about your own roots."

"I come from a very small town in Washington called Forks."

"Forks as in… the cutlery?" he laughed. There was something in his face that made Isabella think this was not the first time he had heard of it though. But she did not want to pry, and chose to move on. He must have a good reason to pretend, she thought.

"Yep. There's even a restaurant there to prove it."

"How quaint," was Jasper's joking murmur into his sip of beer. Now it was Isabella's turn to look offended.

"It is quaint actually, very quaint." She punched him in the arm to make his good. "So what town is it you're actually from?"

"I am from Houston, actually."

"Such a big city?" Jasper nodded. "You fit right in New York then," she chuckled. "Moving to New York, for me, was a big shock. I had never seen a Gap store when I got here; that's how small Forks is. I had never been among so many nationalities, so many cultures; I hardly knew how to deal with it all." Jasper raised his eyebrows at this. The wine was beginning to make Isabella slur her speech a little. Obviously she was not a regular drinker.

"That must have been difficult," Jasper replied. "The move to New York for me was not as odd, I'm sure. But it was still different. Different atmosphere, different weather, different shops—just not quite the same jump in size as it was for you." Isabella smiled at this.

"I'm afraid that I'm not used to drinking wine, Jasper, I feel a little fuzzy." In a tribute to his good nature, he simply laughed and said:

"Then that better be the only glass you have, there's still a half hour till I go up." He took a gulp of his beer as she drank the last few drops of her wine.

"So why do you love playing the guitar so much? I was always terrible at trying to play instruments; I would either trip over them or break the strings or something would go wrong. So it was just eventually given up when I turned eleven…" Isabella trailed off there, a memory from the back of her mind coming to the forefront again. She squinted for a moment, and then it passed.

"There were two things I was good at as a kid: music and numbers. The way I saw it, I had to pick one for a career and one to sit on the side. My dad always said it was useless trying to become a musician: there was no money in it, it was impossible to crack the industry—all of that stuff, you know the deal. No-one in my family had gone to university before, either. So there was all that encouragement coming from my parents and grandparents, aunts and distant great uncles, even the damned dog it seemed like. Economics was a good way to go for that, considering I had never failed a Math test in my whole life. And then there was the fact that my dad knew someone who knew someone who knew someone else, who could save me a place in his firm. Which is where I work now. I just had to get the degree.

"Music is my thing though. It keeps me sane and human. I don't mind that I never had the chance to try and make it in the business. At least I make enough money to support my hobby." Isabella was leaning on the bar now, her head resting on her arm on the countertop. Some might have said she was gazing into the heavens.

"That's so brave. Standing four years of hard university work that you didn't even enjoy? For your family? That takes a lot of determination, Jasper." He shrugged off her compliments.

"It wasn't really that bad…" Isabella pressed a hand to his face.

"Don't try to be all macho," she smiled.

"It honestly wasn't though. It was fine. Straight forward. Easy. And I made a lot of good friends while I was there."

"Where did you study?" Isabella asked with a furrowed brow.

"New York University. Not major."

"But you majored in Math, didn't you?" Jasper closed his eyes in mock anguish at the bad joke. Isabella laughed evilly.

"That was truly awful," he replied with a grin.

"I know!"

A loud voice came over the speakers: "This is the last song before Jasper comes to set up, so enjoy!"

"Oooooh, not long now till I get to hear you sing!" Isabella was in fact really excited; this was no mockery. Just then Wicked Game came on the speakers.

"No way!" Jasper exclaimed. "I haven't heard these guys in years!" Isabella of course had no idea who he was talking about and quirked an eyebrow to illustrate this. "It's HIM."

"HIM?" she inquired, pointing to a man standing away from them.

"No, that's the name of the band," he laughed. "I admit it's an odd name, but they used to play really good stuff. Listen." He gestured to the speakers above their heads.

"What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you…"

"Isn't this a cover of Chris Isaak?" Isabella mumbled. Jasper shrugged.

"Possibly."

"I barely recognise it, but the lyrics are familiar," she trailed off, her mind elsewhere.

They continued to stand there listening until the last chords played out and Jasper was called up again.

"See you in a minute, Jasper! Break a leg!" The grin she gave him made him want to kiss it away, but he resisted the urge. There would be the perfect moment another time, and he wanted to take it. For the mean time, he was content to befriend her and hang out.

Soon their time would come.

A/N: Now there really will probably be a bit of a wait. haha Hope you enjoyed this much shorter chapter though, nonetheless. :)