Run to Me

Insight and Irritants

We settled into a small booth by the window and waited for our food to arrive, exchanging small talk between sips of our drink. Jett was hard to read, his face was a blank mask for the most part, only revealing a small trace of emotion now and again. It was clear he was guarded, and I wondered just how much of the mystery I would be able to uncover.

I set my glass down on the dark wooden table and looked up at him, choosing to start simple and gauge his reaction, before diving deeper.

"How long have you lived in Springdale?" I asked.

He looked curiously at me for a moment, his blue eyes darkening momentarily as if he was trying to work out the significance of the question.

"Four years." He replied bluntly, clearly not willing to give much more information.

"Where did you move from?"

"London."

Well this wasn't getting far fast, I thought. But there was still something I was easily picking up from his responses, he was very guarded about his past. There would have to be a warm up to learning more there. I decided to cut my losses on that area of his life, for now, instead diverting to him as a person.

"Why a mechanic?" I said cheerfully, taking another sip of drink and looking at him over the rim of my glass.

He arched a brow and smirked at me.

"I could ask you the same thing."

I returned his smirk with a dazzling smile.

"You certainly could. Why don't you answer first, then you can give me a try."

He bit his lip, a look of lust passing over his face as I realised what I just said. It made my body tingle at the very idea of the thoughts that were possibly passing through his head. I gave him a knowing look, and was relieved at the slight rumble of laughter that emanated from him.

"My dad," he said, snapping me back to attention, "He taught us about cars growing up. It was something his father did for him too, I took a liking to it, was where I felt at home, where I felt calm."

I noticed the use of the word 'us' and judging from the way he said it, I assumed a sibling. I didn't get to ask before he continued:

"So, your turn. Why a mechanic?"

I chuckled and shrugged.

"There wasn't a lot of opportunities where I lived. I grabbed the first job I could. Cleaning cars on weekends. The guy who ran the garage, he became like a second father to me. Used to call him Uncle Jack," I smiled as I reminisced in my mind about the great man who took me under his wing and spent time teaching me the ins and outs of motors. "He taught me the trade, I grew to love it, he let me work up through the ranks, employed me full time after that."

"How come you don't still work there?" Jett asked me, leaning back into the chair, his bright blue eyes locking with my own.

"He died. Seven years ago now."

Jett's mask slipped and I saw the most emotion that he had given off so far, understanding, sorrow. It was a shocking contrast to how he had been all day and I found myself curious to why this was so intense for him.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't say more, but that was enough to show me more than words could. I could see the loss in his eyes, his body, hear it in his voice and feel it in the air between us. There was a familiar dull ache in my heart at the thought of Jack, but this wasn't where I wanted our chat to go. I shook it off, deciding not to pry and continued.