summary: you're on a late-night outing with Jameson.
warnings: not proofread :)
“Get down! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”
“Do I get brownie points if I pretend that I care?!”
I stay quiet, trying to think of a reply. This guy is actually psychotic. I knew that I shouldn’t have agreed to take ‘just a walk’ with him. Now he’s up on a wall that’s on the verge of falling apart, 70 feet in the air.
“If you fall and break something, I ain’t taking any accountability!”
“You’re going to fall, you moron!”
Jameson’s foot slips and I squeeze my eyes shut. When I don’t hear a loud thud, I look back up to find Jameson grinning at me. “You’re not funny. Get down!”
“Uhh your life?” I fold my arms. “At least until you do something like this again.”
“I didn’t come with you to watch you die, you know!”
“Then why are you still here?!”
“Good question, Jameson! I’m leaving!” I turn around. “Goodbye, see you in hell!” I throw a wave at Jameson before I start walking again.
He’s such an idiot. I really don’t know why I decided to come with him. I guess he didn’t want the cops to know that it was a self-inflicted death. Screw him. Now I have to walk home. Idiot. Moron. Bastard.
“Stupid.” I kick a rock as I step foot out of the broken-down warehouse.
“I sure hope you didn’t mean me.”
I jump at the sudden voice behind me. I turn around and I swing, but Jameson catches my hand before it hits him. “Now, now. That’s not nice.” He drops my hand with a smirk.
“You scared me, you buffoon.”
“You should watch the way you speak to and about others, you know.” The smirk doesn’t leave.
“And you should leave me alone.”
“Now why would I do that, my darling?”
“If you say so, grumpy cow.”
Jameson’s smirk grows. He grabs my hand and he drags me behind him. I try to pull away, but it’s no use. He’s not letting go anytime soon. “We need to get you home before it’s too late.”
I chuckle. “You’re so funny.”
Jameson throws an amused, but strangely serious, look over his shoulder. “Oh, you were serious.” He continues to walk, not giving me a reply. “You know it’s like three 'o'clock already, right?”
“I know. Still have to get you home.”
“Uhmm, my dad’s sleeping.”
Jameson looks at me when we finally reach his motorcycle. “Okay?”
“Do you want me to sleep outside?”
“Don’t you have a spare key outside?”
“No.” I fold my arms across my chest when a cold breeze brushes past us.
“Why?” Jameson’s confusion brings me joy. There is stuff on this planet that he doesn’t know. So much for him thinking that he knows everything.
“Cause he’s a paranoid old man, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Why is he a paranoid old man?”
“Beats me. He doesn’t talk about why. And I don’t ask.”
“We can break open your window.”
“Worth a shot.” He shrugs his shoulders, grabbing the helmet resting on the front of his motorcycle. “Here.” He hands me the helmet, and I pull it over my head. My heart starts to race with the cover over my face, but I force myself to calm down. I lift the visor, taking in a deep breath.
“I hate these things.” I grumble, fumbling with the straps.
“So do I. Why do you think I don’t wear one?”
I give him a look. “Totally not because you have some kind of death wish.”
Jameson snorts and he swats my hands away, and he tightens the traps for me. My eyes flash down to his lips, and I subconsciously lick mine. And I suddenly wish I wasn’t wearing this stupid helmet. I look back at his eyes, and at the same time they flash up from the straps. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
He leans in to place a kiss on the helmet. I know he’s teasing, but what if I didn’t want him to? What if I wanted him to really kiss me? I click my tongue and I push him away. His chuckle sounds muffled through the helmet, but it’s still enough to make me smile.
“Come on, let’s go. I need food,” Jameson hoists himself onto the motorcycle and I follow suit, almost falling. “And alcohol. Or maybe just alcohol.” I roll my eyes at Jamesons’ antiques.
“Maybe food first.” I feel like I should yell so that he can hear me properly. He turns to me with a raised brow. “What?”
“I’m not screaming!” Jameson pulls back, rubbing his ear.
“You’re going to be the reason for our hearing issues when we’re thirty.”
I snort, jabbing him playfully in the ribs. “Just drive.”
Before I could properly get a hold on something to prevent me from falling, Jameson starts driving. Fast.
My arms go for his waist and I hold on for my life. Literally. He swerves around the corner, and I have to try really hard not to scream like a little girl. But sooner than later, adrenaline runs rampant in my veins and I loosen my grip around Jameson’s waist.
When we reach the highway, I place only my hands on his waist. But that doesn’t last long because Jameson grabs one of my hands and he leads it to his stomach, doing the same with the other. He yells something, but I can’t hear with the wind whipping in my ears.
I try to pull back again, but this time, Jameson grabs my hand and he holds it in his. I can feel the heat from his hand radiating through his glove and it sends goosebumps up my arm. I lean into him and everytime we swerve too much to the left or too much to the right, I tighten my hold on his waist.
He slows down a bit when we take the left off of the highway. We drive for about ten more minutes before he finally stops. I wait for him to get off the motorcycle before I scoot forward to get off in an easier way. I wait for Jameson to help me to loosen the straps, but he takes his time.
“Why are you taking so long?”
“Maybe it’s because I enjoy being this close to you.” His voice is down to a whisper, and I don’t know if he’s joking anymore. I think about the way he grabbed my hand on the highway. Because he cares. He was afraid of something happening. I gulp, turning my head away. I can’t look him in the eyes right now. Not with this bubbling of butterflies in my lower belly.
But that made Jameson’s job harder, so he grabbed the bottom of the helmet, pulling it towards him and forcing me to look at him. “I’m not quite done yet.” His face is inches away from mine. If it wasn’t for this stupid helmet, I would probably feel his breath on my face. I gulp again, my eyes flashing down to his lips.
I try to pull my eyes away from his face to see where we stopped, but his broad shoulders keep me from seeing what’s behind him. I also can’t turn my head.
When Jameson finally steps back, I feel how warm my face is. My breath is also fast, and I suddenly don’t want to take my helmet off. “All done, my darling. You can take it off now.” Jameson takes his gloves off, shoving them into his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
When I finally take the helmet off, I look down, trying to avoid his gaze. I hold the helmet against my body with my elbow and I pull the gloves off.
“Give me the helmet and your gloves.”
I hang the helmet on his outstretched hand and I place the gloves on top of it. He shoves the gloves into the side bag of his backpack, and he places the helmet on the front of the motorcycle. He makes sure it’s secure before he lets go. “Come on. I’m going to die of starvation.”
I finally snap out of my daze and I follow him into the small, homey but expensive looking restaurant. “Haven’t you eaten?”
“No. I just had an apple for breakfast.”
Jameson gives me a side glance. “What’s it to you, Princess?”
I glare at him. “Don’t call me princess.”
“I was late for my INBDE.”
“Oh.” I go quiet for a few seconds. “I didn’t know you wanted to become a dentist.”
Jameson shrugs. A waiter takes us to a table somewhere at the back of the restaurant, somewhat away from the few people there. “First of all, I cannot afford to eat at a place like this, and second of all, it’s like three ‘o’clock. Why is this place still open?”
Jameson pulls my chair out for me before answering me. “You’re not paying. And this place isn’t still open. It opened like,” He glances down at his watch as he sits down. “Twenty minutes ago. It opens at three 'o'clock. For all the night owls, ya know?”
“I want to pay for my food. And it’s strange that you know about this place. Do you come here often?”
“Good morning, Mister Hawthorne.”
Well I guess that answers that.
The waitress hands each of us a menu and she gives Jameson a huge grin. “Morning Sophia.” Jameson greets without looking up. He grabs his menu, paging through to the drinks.
“Do you know what you’ll be drinking, Mister Hawthorne?”
“Two minutes.” He still doesn’t look at her.
If that grin was directed at me, I wouldn’t want to look at her either.
When Jameson does decide to look up, it’s to give the waitress a questioning look. “I said two minutes. Why are you still standing here?”
“Yes. Of course. My apologies, Sir.” He glares after her as she walks away. He clears his throat and he gives me a smile. “They have this kick-ass Jameson milkshakes. You should taste them.” His smile turns into a grin.
I roll my eyes in return, resting my head on my hand. “Do you like it because it has your name in it?”
“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Jameson rests his elbows on the table and he folds his hands under his chin. “But no. It really is good. Haven’t you ever tasted the whiskey?”
“Nope. My parents were always against alcohol, so all I ever drank was beer and the cheapest vodka, because that's all that I could afford.”
“That’s quite sad, you know.”
I snort in turn. “I don’t know though. I kinda want a cappuccino.” I open my menu, looking at the different coffees I can choose from, trying to avoid looking at the price tags too much.
“No. I refuse to buy any sort of coffee.”
I pull my nose up in disgust. “I still can’t believe that you don’t like coffee.”
“I can’t believe that you like it. It’s disgusting.”
“Well it’s a good thing you like disgusting things then.”
I choke on air at his ridiculous, but smooth statement. He smirks when I finally regain my composure. “Are you alright?”
Jameson smiles before calling a waiter closer so that we can order something to drink. “Yo. Jamie, what’s up?”
The guy gives Jameson that weird handshake that men usually give each other. “Hello, Devon. Where’ve you been?”
“Just uni. You know how it goes.” The Devon guy rolls his eyes and taps boredly on his waiter pad with his pen.
“You know my offer still stands, right?”
“Yes, I know. So does Grayson’s, but I’d rather get there myself.” I should remember to ask Jameson about who Grayson is. And how him and this Devon guy became close enough to greet each other in this way.
“That’s your choice man.” Jameson lifts his hands, as if surrendering.
“Well hi there, beautiful.” Devon greets me with a wink.
“Hello.” I’m not interested. He is attractive though. Maybe it’s his light brown skin and his green eyes complimenting each other. Or perhaps it’s the curls sitting atop his head. Or maybe it’s his length. I’ve always liked tall guys.
“What can I get you guys?”
“Two Jameson milkshakes, please.” Jameson answers before I can even start saying the word coffee. Devon snorts and shakes his head.
“Did the beautiful lady choose that, Jamie, or did you?”
“I did, obviously.” Jameson rolls his eyes, earning a snicker from me.
“Okay. Would you like your usual meal, or do you want something else?”
Jameson gives the menu a once-over before answering. “You can bring me my usual, but Y/N would probably like the creamy chicken pesto with baby marrows, but can you add extra marrows?”
“Yes, we can.” Devon writes everything down. “Will that be all for now?”
“Okay, perfect. Five minutes on the drinks.”
When Devon leaves, I contemplate bringing up the fact that he remembered that I love baby marrows. I want to bring it up, but I also don’t want to break the comfortable silence. Devon comes back with our milkshakes, but he doesn’t stay to chat.
I look up to find Jameson’s eyes already on me. “You remembered.”
A soft smile creeps onto his face. “Of course I did.” I smile back before taking a sip from my milkshake.
The taste of the whiskey hits my throat and I fight back a cough. The second sip is better, but by the third I think I might actually get another one. “I told you.” Jameson smirks again. He leans forward, keeping eye contact. “And that’s not the only Jameson that tastes good.”
My head snaps to the side and the blush on my face is making the room feel smaller. Get your mind out of the gutter, Y/N.
I hear Jameson snicker. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but I was talking about the toffee adaption of the whiskey.”
I throw a glare in his direction, and he chuckles. “I’m sure that is what you meant.”
hello hello lovies. i was in the mood to write this, so i did. i kinda like it.
do y'all want a part two???
@elysianwayy77 @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @i-too-enjoy-blog @no1bookgirl @merylovesbooks @eternallybri @nothankyou3333 @miicellaneous @thecircularlibrary @mafiasliege @imaseabear @narkissistikos @lanterns-and-daydreams @eternal--dream
