𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 / @feybled
so maybe there were some perks to this job, after all. besides the glorious lack of a nine-to-five schedule, and the fact that her home office meant pants weren’t always compulsory at the workplace, laying low like this meant drinks on the job. a revolutionary tax write-off, as far as she was concerned. plus, her mark ( former mark, that was; she’d dropped the offer on the second day of its existence ) wasn’t bad on the eyes. he carried himself with an ease that might’ve been intimidating if not for the fact that she knew his name for the porn-star tragedy it was. not that she had any room to talk. they could all thank her foster family for that.
“ miserable? i wouldn’t say that, ” she said, sliding on to the stool he offered, “ but if i did, i’d also say you make miserable work for you, so.. ” with a shrug, she gestured to the bartender for a refill, her expression warmer than it would’ve been were she still keeping herself company. there was no telling the rhyme or reason; she supposed laying low undercover simply offered a break from.. everything. from an apartment that always stunk of four-day-old takeout; clicking through the same five channels on days when the tv remote decided to work; and pretending that walking down the street, any street, didn’t make her feel sick to her stomach. the alcohol, at least, took the edge off. for a little while. “ hey, look at you, mr. observatory! yeah. you can just.. it’s jess. ”
turning to face him, she confirmed what she’d known all along: his eyes were prettier up close. “ gotta pull you up on one thing, though, wade.. it’s not you i’ve been watching the past week. ” it was her turn to slurp at her drink. “ i mean, i have been watching you. just.. more for recreational purposes. the guy i’m supposed to be watching left tonight, like, a half hour ago. ”
This was fun. She felt like fun. Or perhaps it was more something akin to fresh air? All Wade knew was that the musty smell of the bar seemed to have dissipated when she moved closer. Leather, cigarettes and something sweet that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, that’s what she smelt like. Maybe the sweetness was whatever flavour her chapstick was. Whatever it may have been, it cut through the damp smell of the bar and straight to his senses. All five of ‘em. Some would say perhaps leather and cigarettes wasn’t something to be exactly intoxicated by, but Wade could apparently beg to differ.
A gasp, brows raising and a feigned look of surprise was offered up, Wade’s hand coming to his chest to the vague area where his heart would be. “More for recreational purposes? Jess, if you’re using me to get your rocks off all you gotta’ do is ask.” Despite the rather vulgar words he’d thrown up between them, his eyes remained light and playful, appreciative that he could actually look into hers now, too. They were plain, but they were beautiful. Intriguing, really. He could feel the edges of his faked expression soften as his hand fell to his glass again as the corners of his lips seemed to fall, too. This time into something warmer, though there was still an air of cheekiness to them. “I’d even give you a good rate.” He winks. He’s preposterous and he knows it.
The glass meets his lips again, his mind briefly passes way too far ahead of himself, hoping he’d actually washed those dirty clothes that’d piled in the lounge room, or had he just moved them to another pile in his room? Shit. Had he cleaned out the rat trap on the fire escape? Or finally cleaned off that plate that had dried pasta stuck to it that was forever pushed into the ‘do tomorrow’ pile? Shit. Double shit. Fuck. If things went well here, he’d have to go to her apartment. Yup. Perfect. Wait, is that even where this was going? Wade you dumbass.
“So… next round on me then? Since y’know. You're so obviously in love with me, little miss recreational observer.” He calls the barkeep, gestures for another two of whatever their last round was. “Sound like a plan?”
