Kaya didn’t really appreciate the laugh she was given when she identified the man that had bumped into her. A little huffily, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure whether she was mimicking her son or if he’d learned this from her whenever he didn’t get his own way (ie, when she served up cake instead of carrot sticks for dessert - her baby boy was a weird one, that’s for sure). It did occur to her that calling him a jerk face hadn’t been her brightest move and maybe she should be grateful that he was laughing instead of yelling, but Kaya was used to men laughing at her and she still had trouble differentiating between good-natures chuckles and mocking cackles.
“What?” she cried, her eyebrows shooting up. “No, Billy and I are friends.”
It wasn’t the time or place to start second guessing every single interaction she’d ever had with the owner of The Writer’s Stop but her mind began running rampant anyway. She was friends with Billy, right? True, she’d made friends with Harry first when the retriever had taken a liking to her bandana at the park and went up on his hind legs to try and get it. But any friend of Billy’s dog was surely a friend of Billy’s, right? Maybe he did like this donut thieving man better though…
“Hmph,” was all she said, too scared to lose the argument that she didn’t bother pursuing it, up until the man’s voice turned genuine and her defenses dropped a little. Oh, he was being really nice now. Kaya was a sucker for nice people (read: anyone could plaster a kind smile onto their face, fake or not, and Kaya would accept it as the genuine thing). Time had given her cause to grow a little wary, but her mood was already wobbly and she didn’t have it in her to muster together the pitiful dregs of a confrontational nature she possessed.
“I believe you didn’t do it on purpose,” she said eventually, nodding in acknowledgment. At his words, her bottom lip wobbled a little, her chin dimpling in that odd way it did whenever she was fighting back tears
“No, no you can’t say that!” she warned him, rocking up onto her tiptoes so she could frantically wave a hand in front of his face in an effort to silence him. “If you say anything about me looking like I’m going to cry then I will start crying, so shh!”
Falling back to the flats of her feet, she let out a sigh and tiredly ran a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes at herself. She knew she was being ridiculous. “I’m sorry. You were in line for the donut first. It’s just been… a day, you know?” she wrinkled her nose and gave him a soft smile, figuring that like any normal human being who had their off-days then he did know.
Grimacing at the feeling of cupcake crumbs making themselves at home in the ridges of her sneaker soles, Kaya almost missed the man’s question. When his words caught up to her, she automatically waved a hand at him. “Oh no, you’re - well, actually…” she caught herself then tipped her head to the side in consideration. “I could do with someone holding my punch bag for me. Most of the other guys around here aren’t willing to help.”
The batting of her eyelashes made her words sound completely innocent, but her smile said something different.
Try as he might, JP couldn't fight the smirk that was flitting its way onto his face. He tried to keep his features neutral: to nod along sincerely as she spoke, and to not appear as though he were mocking her in any way. 'Cause, hey – JP was a whole damn lotta things, but he was no bully. He didn't take any kind of joy in other peoples' misfortunes, even if he did get a kick out of ribbing his buddies from time to time. Hell, he and Beau had spent years of their childhood playing pranks on one another and working their asses off trying to best the other. It was all good natured stuff, though. He'd never actually make fun of somebody if he figured they were uncomfortable. But, he couldn't deny the humour in his current predicament. The girl before him was cute as all hell, and the way she pouted up at him, her forehead crinkling in frustration at her fallen friend (read: the cupcake), well... it was weirdly endearing. And he was bummed about having ruined her snack, so there was nothing insincere about his apology, and it was clear as day that that same very fact was causing her a huge inner conflict.
He watched as the metaphorical cogs turned in her head, as she huffed at his apology, realising that there was no means for an argument, and that he wasn't going to pick a fight. Besides, JP didn't wanna be presumptuous, nor did he wanna judge her by her tiny frame and downright adorable Care Bears shirt, but he figured she probably wasn't looking for a quarrel either. He was about to point out to her that she was right, he hadn't done it on purpose, when he noticed her bottom lip wobbling, his own words catching up to her as she stuck her chin out in defiance.
Confused, he cocked his head to the side to study her. Had he said something rude? Had he managed to upset her? Her next outburst only further confused him, until she helpfully explained her situation and he huffed out a gentle laugh, a sigh of relief at not having managed to offend her.
“Aight, well, don't cry. Keep poutin' at me if it helps, yeah?” he teased, trying to keep his tone light. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do if she burst into tears, but he didn't really wanna find out.
JP didn't like to think of himself as one of those guys that ran at the first sign of a wobbly lip or crinkled forehead, nah, those guys sucked. He'd long since overcome any feelings of toxic masculinity and own self loathing – he'd left those days behind him in high school, with Grant Morley and his pack of bigots – and thought it perfectly normal for anyone, no matter gender or identity, to express themselves however they saw fit. Crying was a natural response in any instance, and JP liked to think he adapted well enough to know how to behave depending on the person. This girl, though, she was a total stranger. If she cried, then what? Would she want him to hug her? Would she be offended if he did? He had no idea.
It didn't matter, in the end, as she eventually heaved out a sigh and shrugged, throwing up a metaphorical white flag in surrender, allowing JP to let the tension he hadn't known he was carrying in his shoulders to melt away. He stared down at her as she accepted defeat – if you could even call it that – and admitted that he'd beat her to the donut fair and square. He hadn't meant to worsen an already bad day for her through, and he offered her a sympathetic smile.
“Well, I'm sorry y'had a crummy day an' I made it worse,” he apologised, hoping that the two of them could start anew now that Baked Goods Gate was seemingly behind them. “Y'kna, if you want, we can share that donut after we're done workin' out. Split it half way, or somethin'. A truce?”
He shrugged, before eyeing her curiously when he heard her request. It was pretty simple, really. He'd spent many a time in the weights section spotting for his teammates, just as he was well accustomed to holding the odd bag here and there for some of the other guys he trained with. He couldn't see what would be so hard about doing so for the girl in front of him, so he merely shrugged and nodded in return.
“Sure thang, yea. They ain't shit if they can't handle holdin' a lil bang e'rry now an' again,” he laughed. Then, with a teasing lilt, he chided, “'Sides, you seen these bad boys, huh?”
And, with that, he flexed his biceps for her. He knew fine well the way his muscles often bulged through the thin fabric of his t-shirts, even having caught Terry drooling once or twice. He knew of Gaston and the way everyone around town, Izzy included, seemed to be tripping over themselves just to catch a sight of those weedy twigs he liked to call his arms, but JP knew damn well he put on the best show in town – even if he wasn't quite so narcissistic to announce it from the rooftops.
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