Smash!

•T W E N T Y T H R E E•

Long chapter. Seriously had no chill writing this
Riley's POV

"What's your favorite thing to do?" I question, leaning over the counter at Jamie's job to get a better look at her rump as she bends over to refrost a mushed cupcake.

"That's a question out of the blue. Why are you asking?" Green eyes gleaming with shock, Jamie pops up from behind the counter, clutching a frosting bag so tight it hazardously shoots out.

"Thought you were a pro with that thing." I dryly grumble, getting hit with a ropey blast of yellow frosting right in the face. Muttering an apology, Jamie hands me her apron to wipe my face clean. "We live together. Can't I ask?"

"Only if I can too." Immediately my jaw clenches at Jamie's words, something in me closing up. It's as if something caved in, shutting every opening with huge obstacles. But Jamie's green eyes bore into me with a soft look that's ready to morph into harsh disappointment. She's waiting for me to push her away, she's desperately steeling herself for impact for when I smash into her heart with all my jagged problems. A sickening feeling makes my heart throb hard like a broken bone as I wonder why Jamie just takes that impact, and how she stays standing for the next.

I don't want that for her.

"Fine." I force. "Ask away." A stunned look contorts Jamie's face. A look of sheer astonishment that leaves her eyes bulging, and her mouth hanging open in a mute shout of joy.

"What is your favorite thing to do, Riley?" She excitedly questions with a bright smile.

"Off the top my head," I stall, loving that anxious look on her freckled face. "I have to say clubbing. Or partying. Anything exciting or with a thrill, good music, and booze." There is nothing like the energy of a mass of happy people, every damn person just having the time of their lives. All the noise, all the euphoria; nothing can go wrong for hours when every minute is raging.

"Your turn, Jamie." I jab my chin in her direction. Her freckled face scrunches up as she thinks up an answer. A long minute goes by. Then two. Then five. Then nearly ten.

"I worked so much that I forget what I did for fun." Jamie admits, her green eyes clouding up.

"That's so sad I can't bring myself to joke about it." At my words Jamie gives me an unamused look.

"I worked a full time job, with over time everyday. Meanwhile, domestic life is just as demanding. Dust accumulates twice as fast, and three times thicker when it knows you don't have time to clean it." Jamie sighs, wiping the counter clean a bit to hard. She's not over exaggerating. After picking Jamie up from a brutal full shift, Jamie has mustered up strength to cook meals and make our apartment spotless. I can't even cook an egg. I learned the hard way how difficult it is create something delicious the other night when I failed miserly at dinner. "Don't get me started on self accounting." She adds.

"Think of the funnest thing you can think of. If you could do anything what would it be? Go bowling and get a strike on each turn? Set off fireworks? Find a drunk with the highest tolerance in a bar, and try to drink them under the table? Paint nude portraits?" I list off some good, wild weekends I've had.

"... Were you the painter or the model?" Jamie asks knowingly. Smirking, I convince her she doesn't want to know the answer.

"So, what it would it be, Jamie?" I press, leaning forward across the counter.

"Theres something I've always wanted to do as a kid." Jamie starts. Egging her on, I'm expecting an answer like try every flavor of Ben and Jerry's. "Those indoor playgrounds for kids birthdays.... With ball pits, bouncy castles, and sky tubes. My grandma never let us have birthday parties there, so I would die for the experience." Jamie admits sheepishly, watching for my reaction. I fight to keep every face muscle from betraying me, but holy crap, all I want to do is laugh.