Day Eleven: Cupid
A/N: This is a companion piece to obsessivedaydreamer's "Be Mine," Chapter 11. You don't need to have read it to understand the premise, but you should go read it! On AO3.
Juliet was surprised when Jack asked her out to lunch. She hadn't realized he'd been interested in her in the months that she'd known of him. But he'd ducked his head like a nervous teenager, pulling her aside during their shift at the hospital, and asked her to lunch. He was cute, successful, charming… She'd had no reason to say no.
Now here they were, at a nearby Mexican restaurant on their break, and Juliet couldn't help but feel the awkwardness in the air between them. They had very little to talk about other than work, and even then, their disciplines were so different, it was hard to find something in common there, either.
Jack, for someone who seemed to take nerves in stride, given his profession, talked most of the time. Which was fine. Juliet was content to listen. She laughed at his occasional joke, offered condolences when he brought up the strained relationship with his father, and even offered small nuggets of her own when appropriate. She told him about her sister, her nephew, her favorite books. It disappointed her to learn that Jack wasn't much of a reader. But they couldn't all be perfect, right?
Their lunch was fine, their conversation typical for any first date. She didn't get any flutters in her stomach, but it was still early, wasn't it? It wasn't like real life was like a fairy tale, where love at first sight struck like lightning, deep in your belly, lighting you on fire from the inside out. That kind of thing only happened in the movies, or romance novels. Juliet tried to remind herself of this when she found herself bored of Jack's company after only one hour. She didn't want to analyze it too closely - the fact that she'd rather be at work with her patients.
She offered to split the bill - go dutch - and Jack agreed. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. He hadn't even tried to fight her on it. But, she'd been the one to offer, hadn't she? Perhaps he felt like he was being more of a feminist this way.
After they paid their check, they stood to leave. Jack excused himself to the restroom, and Juliet tugged on her jacket.
"Hey Blondie!" she heard from behind her, and she turned on instinct. But she wasn't sure why. No one she knew called her that.
Smiling over at her was perhaps the most handsome man Juliet had ever laid eyes on. His shoulder length, dirty blonde hair was shiny and almost blowing in an impossible wind. (They were indoors. Was he standing under the air vent?) Juliet's eyes traveled down, across his leather jacket and dark jeans, and then back up again to land on his perfect white teeth and eyes that were the same color as the sunlight sparkling off the Mediterranean.
He was gorgeous.
"Hi," she said, and pushed the hair off her face. She could feel her heart quickening, like she'd been shot with Cupid's bow. It felt so damn impossible to be feeling what she was feeling: her palms were sweating, her stomach was swooping with butterflies.
This only happened in the movies. This didn't happen to her.
"I'm James," he said, and extended her hand.
Somehow, Juliet knew that if she took his palm in hers, her life would never be the same.
She only hovered there in her own indecision for three heartbeats before she confidently stuck out her own hand.
"Juliet," she replied, and a huge grin lit up his face.