Jack, in the meantime, had finally noticed the existence of the corn chips and salsa and was stuffing them in his face like they were going out of style. Risa daringly rescued one from the terrible fate of Jack's stomach, only to drown it in chunky tomatoes and onions and crunch it to pieces herself. Briefly, she wondered if the salsa was made on-location – it was good.
Eventually, the waiter (who Risa noted with a twinge of anger hadn't bothered to wear a name-tag that day) returned to their table, pen and notepad in hand. “Are you guys ready to order?”
Jack went first; Risa was too busy trying (but not particularly hard) not to stare. “Yeah, uh, I think I'll have the chicken enchiladas.”
The waiter nodded, scribbling something onto the notepad before turning to the faux redhead and waiting expectantly.
Dumbstruck, she gazed up at for a second; a kick from under the table helped her get past the mental block of Can I just have you? For definitely not the first and probably not the last time that night, she shot Jack a glare before clearing her throat. “I'd like a bowl of the black bean soup, please.” It was generally the safest bet; she could always go with the vegetarian burrito but sometimes rather than just the standard beans-cheese-sauce, places like this would feel the need to stick things like broccoli and carrots into the mix. Not that she had anything against broccoli; she just wasn't a fan of it in her burritos.
The man nodded to her, scribbling her order down and taking the menus that had been set aside back to the kitchen.
Meanwhile, the foot that had kicked her a moment ago was rubbing against the spot now. It would have been sort of cute if it wasn't so... weird.
“Are you really doing this right now?” she asked incredulously.
Jack shrugged, eating another chip. “Nope. It's all part of your imagination.”
She rolled her eyes. “Smart ass. Isn't footsie for old people and awkward teenagers?”
He caught her gaze in his and blinked his brown eyes slowly, deliberately, unnervingly. “Tell me to stop, then.”
“Stop!” she cried a little too forcefully, instantly regretting it as soon as she saw the flash of surprised hurt on the man's face. Clearly, that wasn't the response he was expecting; he pulled his foot from hers quickly and preoccupied himself by cleaning out the contents of the salsa bowl rather than looking at her.
The food couldn't come quickly enough.
When the waiter finally returned with their orders, Risa breathed a quiet sigh of relief, thanking the man and hoping the food would somehow re-instigate the conversation.
It didn't.
They ate in silence, Risa hoping that it was just because that the food was keeping their mouths preoccupied from talking but shifting uncomfortably in her seat anyway.
The food itself was delicious; or at least hers was. Really, it was hard to mess up black bean soup, but it had been so long since she had eaten real cheese and real sour cream, and the vicinity of the cheese factory made the dairy seem that much fresher even though it was probably completely placebo and possibly not even the right brand.
“Um... how's yours?” she asked tentatively, stirring the beans around in her bowl and mixing in the sour cream and melted cheddar.
Jack grunted, mouth full of seasoned chicken and tortilla.
“I'll take that as 'good', then,” she murmured quietly, looking down at her food and taking another bite.
He nodded, swallowing. “It is.”
She smiled at him, glad he had decided to talk to her again. “Want some of mine?”
For some reason, she loved sharing food with Jack. She didn't even know how much he really appreciated it, but she felt the need to invite him to try most everything, no matter the likelihood that he would actually enjoy it. She was much the same way with music, but while music was sustenance for the soul, physical food had much more tangible effects.
It wasn't as though the dish was all that exotic, either; when Risa made Mexican food at home, she generally used black beans, and when she was too lazy to prepare everything she had been known to just eat a can of the legumes by themselves. She offered him a spoonful from across the table, complete with real dairy for once (something the male would probably appreciate greatly), and he took the bite straight from the utensil.
“Not bad,” he said after a moment, imitating a food critic as he made a show of mulling over his words. “Could use a little more dead animal, though.”
She glared at him again, biting her lip to hide the smirk that was threatening to show. She was well-accustomed to his 'needs more MEAT' jibes at her choice of cuisine. If she didn't know better, she'd say he actually liked her food and was just saying it to fuck with her.
“Ya want some of mine?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Yeeeeeah.... no.” The woman couldn't hold back her grin anymore and she giggled into her glass of water.
Of course, as soon as it seemed as though they had made amends, the waiter had made his way over to their table again.
She honestly felt bad for what she had done earlier, and she wanted to make it up to Jack, who was yet again glaring at the male server, chewing his final bite of enchilada like it was the man's head. Really, she had no idea what would be worth doing around here though, especially now that probably all of the stores and most of the restaurants were closed. They could always go to one of the bars, but they did that enough at home; they should try to find something that they could only do here.
“So, what do you like to do around here around this time of night?” she asked the server, who was collecting their plates and resting them on his arm. It was a completely innocent statement, but Risa's good intentions were lost in the alternate implications of the question.
The server seemed to take it at face value, though. “Oh, well... I know this will sound really cliché, but I actually really like to walk down along the beach. It's definitely nicer when you're with someone else, though.” He flashed her another grin, and she looked up and smiled back despite herself. The man was so cute, it really was a shame...
Even the waiter's smile couldn't distract her from Jack's next actions, though: standing up, he pulled out his wallet and flipped a crisp twenty dollar bill onto the table. “That should cover it,” he said evenly, walking out without any further explanation.
Risa stared after the man dumbly for a moment before looking down at the bill and up at the waiter. What had just happened?
She wasn't sure, but she wasn't waiting around to find out. “Um, keep the change,” she murmured, standing up, glancing around to make sure she wasn't leaving anything, and dashing out after the brunette man.
It didn't take her long to catch up. She latched onto his arm for dear life, resisting his attempts to shake her off. “Where are you going?”
He looked down at her and made one last halfhearted attempt to free his arm. “I told you I wasn't going to sit around and watch you flirt with Fernando all night.”
“I... but...” she paused, trying to figure out how to best put what she was trying to say. “That guy definitely wasn't a Fernando.”
Or, when in doubt, snark.
Jack sighed, all too used to her quips by now. “That was definitely not the point I was trying to make, here.”
“I was just trying to find something – thing, not one – to do around here. Y'know, because we're stuck here for the next thirty-six to forty-eight hours. But I forgot you can mack on anyone you want but if I do something productive I'm the asshole.”
“Hey!” He looked down at her, shaking his head. “Getting laid is very productive.” He paused for a moment, before smirking and adding, “In more ways than one.”
“You're horrible,” she snorted. It was nice to know she was not the only person around with the maturity level of an eight-year-old. Not that she would admit that.
“If I'm so horrible, can I have my arm back?”
She looked down the street, at the empty sidewalks and lines of pastel-colored shops with little closed signs hanging in the doors and windows. She looked up at the sky, a cerulean, post-sunset blue in the west that faded to almost complete darkness in the east, while the first stars began to twinkle and the moon hung low to the horizon. And then she looked back at him.
“Nah.”
They walked a little more slowly than usual, strolling through the little stretch of town without much conversation and not making eye-contact lest the scene seem too sappy for their jaded, cynical sensibilities. The close proximity of the ocean meant the air was cooler than what she was used to; Risa was rapidly beginning to regret not bringing a sweatshirt of her own, reasoning with herself that she was clinging to the brunette male more for the body heat than anything else. She was aware of the alternate implications of their little walk and she couldn't help but feel bad for what could easily be called a lead-on, but, at least at the moment, he didn't seem to be complaining. They made it across the road and up the stairs to their room without much incident save for Risa's occasional shiver.
The redheaded woman reached for the doorknob, but Jack had gotten there first. He froze for a second, returning her bemused look with his own steadfast gaze.
“Risa,” he began, letting her name hang in the air and nursing his lip rather than continuing.
“What?” She raised her eyebrows at him, trying to decide if he actually had something to say or if this was just another manifestation of his penchant for the dramatic. Stupid boys and their stupid theater arts degrees.
If he did have something to day, he decided against it, instead shaking his head quickly and mumbling “Nothing,” before turning the knob and pushing the door open. Finally, she dropped her arm back to her side.
Two pairs of surprised eyes met them as they walked in; Clark and Taylor had returned from wherever it was that they had disappeared to and were curled together in their own bed with the TV playing a movie the woman didn't recognize. Despite the attempts to be nonchalant, Risa noticed with a sort of grim amusement how the two guiltily pulled away from each other and redirected their attention to things besides whatever they had been in the middle (or beginning) of. In an effort to minimize the awkwardness of the four of them stuck in a single room together, they had made a pact on the drive down that there were to be no hook ups by any party in the motel room. It seemed a little odd given the very nature of the lodging, but it was best for everyone: Risa had no desire to watch the object of her affection with another man; Jack had no desire to watch his brother with another man, and neither Clark nor Taylor particularly wanted to walk in on Jack and Risa getting it on, be it with each other or anyone else for that matter. Risa was certainly thankful for the deal now.
“Where have you guys been?” Taylor asked the pair; his ebony-haired lover was not so interested and immediately turned his attention to the TV screen.
“Psh. Could ask you the same thing,” Risa retorted. Jack just shrugged and made his way across the room, ducking below the TV screen and flopping onto his side of the second queen-sized bed, furthest from the entrance. Risa followed a few seconds behind, sitting on the inside edge of the bed and facing her roommate, crossing her legs under her and leaning in slightly to hear over the blare of the television.
“Oh, um... we walked down the street and bought bowls of chowder, and then we walked to the beach and watched the sunset,” Taylor explained, his cheeks reddening a little. Risa doubted that 'watching the sunset' was the only thing the two men had done while they were unaccompanied.
She nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. “We just walked around for a while and ate some Mexican.” She paused for a moment, adding, “Food.” to the end of her statement.
From over her shoulder, she heard a dry “Oh baby.”
“Ah,” Taylor said, his eyes glancing over to his brother for a moment before returning to Risa. “Was it good?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It only occurred to me after we got here that I can't eat vegan, though. So I had real cheese and stuff...”
“Yeah, because you don't cheat all the time when we're at home.”
It was her turn to look over her shoulder and shoot a glare at the brunette man. “I don't remember asking for your opinion,” she said pointedly, to no response.
Rolling her eyes at the man, who had decided that staring at the painting hanging up on the far side of the room was a better alternative than answering, she turned back to his younger, redheaded and generally more amiable brother.
Taylor frowned. “I'm sorry, I didn't even think about that before we left...”
“Nah, it's fine,” Risa said quickly, cutting him off. “This trip's about you, remember? I'll be fine. At least it's just some dairy and not the wholesale slaughter of baby lambs or something.”
“Well... That's true, I guess... you're not going to get sick or anything though, are you?”
“Don't worry about me, jeeze!” She couldn't help but smile at him. Taylor was so nice, and sweet, and caring...
And, as a jealous arm was quick to remind her of, taken. “Look, here comes the best part,” Clark cooed, cupping his hand on Taylor's cheek and turning his head from his roommate and towards the television.
“Oh, uh... what are you watching?” she asked tentatively, glancing up at the movie and searching for some hint of what the title might be.
“I have no idea,” Taylor admitted, “But apparently this is the best part.”
Taking the recommendation of sorts from the dark-haired man, Risa watched the screen for a few seconds, but found whatever was going on in the film to be completely incomprehensible to someone coming in halfway through. Black and white characters viewed from 'artistic' angles murmured to each other in what sounded like French; she read the subtitles for a moment but found herself rapidly losing interest.
Sighing, she fell back onto the bed, her left hand fishing around blindly through her bag for her iPod, to listen to something aside from dialogue she didn't understand and to distract herself from the couple lying in the bed next to hers. As she pushed the earbud into her ear though, it seemed as though the melancholy song that her playlist had been stopped on was only making the whole situation worse. She bit her lip, stealing a look over at Taylor and Clark and immediately regretting it. Somewhere in her head she knew she should be happy that her roommate was happy; that the neurotic, socially awkward man had found someone to love and care for, and wouldn't be stuck watering a plant three times a week at the same time for the rest of his life. But at the same time, she couldn't help but think she should be the one on that bed, arms wrapped around him and content with the world. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and rolled over, burying her face in the motel pillows.
After a moment, she felt the bed shift under her ever so slightly, one of her earbuds pulled out by rough but gentle fingers, and warm breath whisper into her ear.
“Maybe we should trade sides.”
She rolled her head over to find the owner of the voice, and he pulled back from her slightly to give her some personal space. For being a complete ass, every once in a while Jack managed to surprise her with a small but genuinely nice gesture, and then it was never to be spoken of again. She shook her head though, rejecting his offer with a faint half-smile as her overdyed red hair fell into her eyes. No, she could deal with this; she needed to deal with this.
He frowned at her, reaching his hand towards her face but freezing and letting it drop back to his side instead; she bit her lip, trying to decide what she wanted to do next.
Slowly, she reached for his hand and pulled it back to her, pressing his palm to her cheek and nuzzling it gently as her eyes fluttered closed. It was terrible of her to do to him, she knew, but she couldn't help it; she wanted the affection, even if it was coming from the wrong brother. And Jack was so warm, she wanted to scoot closer and pull his arms around her like they would do at home when no one else was around and they weren't nearly as drunk as they pretended to be. She couldn't bring herself to do it while Taylor was so close, though; the thought of him seeing her with someone else was absolutely terrifying, as though as long as he thought she was free there would be a chance that he would somehow come to his senses and choose her instead. If he saw her with anyone else, especially his own brother of all people, that chance would be ruined.
However, a rather conspicuous glance in the redheaded man's direction made it clear that she may as well go for it, as at this point a riot could have broken out in the motel room and he would have been too preoccupied to notice. Her grip around Jack's hand tightened, and she felt him shift again to figure out what she was looking at, a faint cluck of disapproval coming from over her shoulder when he realized.
Risa wasn't all that pleased with herself either, stuck on the scene playing out before her with a sort of sick fascination. Clark and Taylor were abiding by the rules they had laid out earlier that afternoon, but it was obvious to all that probably wasn't going to last for much longer as fingertips brushed down bodies and featherlight kisses were left on bare skin. It felt so forbidden to her, like she was some sort of Peeping Tom in the room she had booked and helped pay for, but she couldn't pull her eyes away.
The hand, her only hold on reality, pulled out of her grasp, and she felt the mattress shudder with movement once again. “I need some fresh air,” she heard Jack announce, as fingers wrapped around her wrist. “And you should come with me.”
She looked up at him, bemused. “Why?” she asked, eyes darting back over to the couple on her left, who seemingly hadn't even noticed the man's declaration. “You're a big boy, you can go alone, can't you?”
He looked down at her seriously, giving her a slight shake of his head and tugging on her wrist in an attempt to get her to stand up. “Nope, I can't. Come on.”
Grudgingly, the woman pulled herself to her feet, only to be dragged off the bed entirely by the suddenly overzealous brunette. Before she had a chance to grab a sweatshirt or even say anything to the other men (though in hindsight she doubted they would have appreciated the interruption), they were out the door and practically sprinting down the stairs.
“What the hell was that all about?” She snapped, more confused than angry.
Jack's pace slackened once they reached the bottom of the staircase, his fingers loosening from around her wrist and casually sliding down to wrap around her hand. “I didn't want to sit around and listen to two dudes bone, or almost bone, or whatever, and I couldn't tell if you were going to go slit your wrists in the bathroom or ask to join.”
She glared up at him, pulling out of his grip entirely and crossing her still-bare arms across her chest. “Have I ever mentioned you're an asshole?”
He sighed, stretching his own arms out behind his head. “Takes one to know one. Next time I'll just let you wallow in your misery for a while.”
Short(ish) story using the characters from Millennials. Unlike the last sectioned piece, this was written in order, and is just really fucking long.
