Emergency Medical Dad

XXIX: november, past

note: if you live in chicago, shush, i know the public transit reference isn't right but google didn't want to work with me and kept trying to put me on a freight train. 

(also, mentions of sexual pressuring/harassment)

JESSIE

I waited. There was too much, too often, too all over the place, too everything. I needed it to shut off. Emma said this would make it shut off. Evan said this would make it shut off. People say it's good, they say it calms your nerves, makes you feel nice. Everyone else had tried it. Why not me?

I waited through my classes and through my Mom until Friday night, until I walked out of the building and down a block, until the figure cloaked in a black denim jacket with ribs bleached into the back of it picked up his head to look at me, until those stunning eyes under heavy eyelashes rested on my body approaching him.

"Hi," I peeped.

"Hello," his voice was still melancholy soft, a touch of discomfort. "Are you okay?"

"Okay enough."

He breathed out, "is anyone going to be around while you do this? Emma?"

I shook my head, "she's got something to do."

"Are you planning on doing it tonight?"

I pulled in a breath, watching his legs shift ever so slightly, "my parents work late."

He pulled his lips between his teeth, thinking about it, then opened his mouth again, "lead the way."

"What?"

"You're not doing this alone. I'm coming with."

"W-why?"

"Just in case you have an adverse reaction, plus, without Emma you're probably not even going to be able to roll one right. I'm coming."

"Oh, I-"

"Unless you don't want me to but then I'm not giving it to you," he stepped away, both his hands slipping into his pockets. "I'm already not that comfortable selling to you."

"Why?"

"Because you're Jessica Kingston, why else?"

I pushed my hair back away from my face, fighting the urge to tug on it, I was sick of it. I was sick of being Jessica Kingston, goody two shoes, Jessica Kingston that let everyone push her around, Jessie this, Jessie that, Jessie Jessie Jessie.

"This way," I grumbled, leading him forward and toward the bus stop.

He followed like a scary dog behind me, hands in his pockets, maybe three or four feet back. For once, I wasn't entirely afraid of people looking at me because I knew I had a huge guy in all black behind me that would do a good job of keeping them quiet.

"You're making me go on the bus," it's more of a statement than anything else.

"I'm- I can cover it if you-"

He shook his head, "it's seventy five cents, Jess."

I zipped my lips, heart fluttering at his shortening of my name.

"I'm just surprised you don't have a car or something."

"My mom thinks it's dangerous."

"And public transportation is better?"

"I carry a knife."

He sighed, big and heavy and making his shoulders sag, "alright."

We were just in time for the bus I'm normally 15 minutes early for. I slid on, waving at the driver who I know by now. Jorgen filled the door behind me, flashing a student ID and slipping three quarters into the box.