Pause

by CJ Adler

  I sigh and back away from Max, tired of pretending for a day. My attention snaps to beside me, as does everyone else's, when an ear-piercing, screeching noise is to be heard. Jay stands up, having purposely scraped his seat back against the tiles.

  He looks over at me in indifference. “I'm done. This is just too weird for me,” he speaks up before sauntering off.

  I, of course, use him as a scapegoat and chase after him, needing to be free from this situation.

  Max calls after me in desperation. “Okay, then, sweetie, I'll just pick you up at six for our date!” He chuckles nervously, fretful that we'll be discovered as 'fakers'. “Don't go running out on me with another man, you hear?!”

  He's still trying to sell our relationship to the public. I'm pretty certain everyone has just realized how fickle we are. There's no point anymore. I ignore him and keep walking.

  Jay stops upon hearing a noise. He turns to see who it is that is following him out of the cafeteria. He grins slightly when he sees that it's just me. He even goes as far as to wait for me to catch up.

  Thankfully, the hallways are empty because most are in the cafeteria, having just witnessed that bizarre occurrence. I honestly believe that an extraterrestrial landing wouldn't be as intense as what just happened in there.

  “That was...” Jay, as if reading my mind, trails off in search of the right words, “…intense.”

  I nod, agreeing. “I think from now on, I'll just join you at my tree for lunch.”

  “You mean, my tree,” he corrects, sensing that I called it 'my' tree just to annoy him.

  “I'm pretty sure it classifies as my tree seeing as I have a picture of it,” I say, defending my point of view.

  “Objection. I'm in that picture too. Doesn't mean to say that you own me,” he states in a matter-of-fact way. He changes the subject before I can object to his statement. “Wanna tell me why Montry, a.k.a. pretty boy, kept casting eyes at you?”

  He noticed? I'm impressed.

  “Pretty boy?” I question before realizing that it's the nickname Mason has earned from some of his female fans. “Honestly, I have no idea.” I go on to add, “And he's not pretty!”

  This causes Jay to crack a sly grin. “Mhmm,” he mumbles in response and walks on ahead of me.

  “Hey! Get back here!” I yell at him. “What does 'mhmm' mean? What are you trying to imply?”

  “Take what you want from my 'mhmm'. I'm not implying anything.” He commits to his lie.

  “Mhmm,” I answer with a cruel smile of my own, copying him.

  He chuckles, his next sentence taking me by complete surprise. “You're not half bad, Aqueela Lawson.”

  “You say that like you previously presumed me to be a 'bad' person.” I point out.

  He shrugs, a subtle smile playing at the corner of his lips.

  “You're not so bad yourself,” I mumble to myself.

  “What was that?” he asks, having vaguely heard me with his incredible supersonic hearing.

  “Nothing.” I grin up at him mischievously. “Nothing at all.”

  He nods and responds with another 'mhmm'.

  “Stop 'mhmming' me!” I shout just as a smirk forms on his lips.

  We soon fall into a peaceful silence as we walk alongside one another to my tree with my Jay, because, just like he pointed out oh so cleverly, both are in my photo.

  Chapter 14

  Don't Knock Him 'Til You've Tried Him

  “Please stop. I've literally resorted to begging. That's how desperate I am.

  Please quit it,” Jay pleads from beside me as we walk to the bar.

  I ignore him, increasing my pitch as I skip along. “I've got the magic in me! Every time I touch that track it turns into gold! Everybody knows I've got the magic in me! When I hit the floor the guys come snappin' at me!” I sing loudly to the tune of the melody.

  I begin to raise my hands only for Jay to swat them down when bystanders give us strange looks. I ignore Jay and begin to clap anyway. “Everybody now!” I say aloud and then begin again, alone. “I've got the magic in me! Everybody knows—”

  I'm cut off from singing any further when Jay slaps a hand over my mouth. He gives me a challenging stare as if to say “just try that again”, and so I do, much to his misfortune and much to my own amusement.

  “I only agreed to show you my job because you begged me. Our agreement didn't include you not shutting that mouth of yours. My ears are bleeding. I don't pity deaf people anymore. Your singing is atrocious and that's putting it lightly. Now shut up,” he insults me, trying to come off as intimidating.

  “Buzzkill,” I say aloud and follow him into the bar.

  “Jay, you're late.” The one whom I assume to be his boss, and apparently his friend, appears before us, unimpressed.

  Jay shrugs and motions to me as if that is answer enough in itself.

  His boss, muscular with tattoos here and there, nods in understanding. “Is this the crazy girl you always going on about?” he asks knowingly, shooting Jay a look.

  My mouth falls agape as I turn to Jay for an explanation, only to be met with a sheepish grin and another shrug. As pleased as I am that Jay actually talks about me — well, complains about me — I do not appreciate being called crazy.

  I turn back to the boss with narrowed eyes. “And you must be the nobody that I've never heard of because Jay never talks of you. At all. Never. Never ever. ” I emphasize the facts, trying to make him jealous, but failing miserably. Maybe if he were female it would have worked better.

  The boss chuckles, mouthing the word crazy to Jay. Jay nods, mouthing I know back to him.

  “Well, did you know that I can see you two mouthing insults to each other about me?” I ask aloud, annoyed.

  “We know. We just don't care,” Jay retorts casually.

  The boss laughs at my reaction, amused. He waves the matter off, motioning to Jay to take his shift and get to work. I watch as Jay takes his place as the bartender at the front of the bar and starts preparing drinks like a pro.

  I sit on the bar chair and watch him work. It's quite fascinating really—like seeing the beast operate in his natural habitat. I also notice his predators crowding around again, by that, I mean the females flocking about in order to get his attention.

  I quickly write this vital piece of information down on the notepad in front of me.

  I watch on intently as one blonde twirls a curl around her finger. “Hey, Jay.”

  She smiles sweetly up at him, seeking one-on-one time.

  He brushes her off with iciness.

  I jot this down in my notebook too. It is critical and relevant to the documentary on the life of Jay Taylor.

  “Can I get you your usual, Sophia?” he asks blandly, not even bothering to spare her a smile or a second glance.

  Her face falls. “Yeah,” she says, looking glum at having received the cold shoulder. If she only knew that he's just trying to make ends meet.

  “Okay,” he replies, turning his back on her to make the drink.

  Sophia sighs and glances my way in dejection as if giving up on Jay and his unwillingness to give her the time of day. I grin at her, offering her a tiny wave with my fingers. She scoffs, rolling her eyes at me as she waits on Jay.

  He finishes mixing the drinks and hands her the finished product before sending her off on her way. His gaze strays to me. He quirks an eyebrow at me when he realizes that I'm staring.

  “Not interested?” I question.

  He simply shakes his head.

  I grin at this and add it to my notes.

  A loud bang on the bar counter alerts me of his proximity. I jolt upright in my bar chair, nearly falling off of it in fright.

  I look up to find Jay's hand grabbing at my notebook with a look of scorn in his eyes. “Would you stop writing about me in your notebook like I'm some kind of animal?! It's irritating. This isn't Animal Planet.”

  “With that attitude, it might as well be,” I mutter inconspicuously.
<
br />   His eyes flicker over my notebook as he skims over the words. I try to snatch it back from him, but he merely continues reading, using the hand not holding my notebook to push me back on the forehead with little effort as if I'm nothing but a meddlesome fly.

  “Observing the beast in his natural habitat?” He reads aloud in a sharp tone before glowering at me accusingly. I shrug innocently. He glances back down to read more before lifting his face to me a second time. “What the hell is this?” he asks, point-blank.

  “Paper,” I answer wittily.

  His eyes fume with rage as he slams the notepad down before me, not startling me in the least; I expected it this time. “I know it's paper! I meant—” he sighs in defeat, “—forget it, there's no winning with you.”

  “Hey, you said it, not me,” I point out with a graceful smile much to his budding irritation.

  “Could you at least take the glasses off ? It doesn't make you look any more like a journalist,” he says, pointing to the thick rimmed spectacles that I purposely wore when I started my thesis on him.

  “Yes, it does!” I snap. “And I'm not a journalist. I'm a professional reporter and you're the rare specimen that I am documenting,” I clarify, annoyed at his misconceptions.

  He doesn't say anything. Instead, in the blink of an eye, he reaches forward and grabs my specs, pulling them right off of my face.

  “Hey!” I yell out in anger and reach forward to get my glasses back.

  Jay responds by flicking me on the forehead, unfazed by my interference. “These don't suit you,” he says calmly, glancing at me. “You look so much better without glasses.”

  “Don't tell me what to do. I do what I want.” I scowl at him as he holds the glasses up in front of his face as if to inspect them.

  “You're not SpongeBob SquarePants.” He dangles the specs before me tauntingly. “You can't work these.”

  “I can so too!” I argue, offended.

  “Fine.” He shrugs carelessly. “When you have them on, you look just like that stupid square head.”

  “Resembling SpongeBob was kind of the aim, so thanks for acknowledging it.” I wink at him just as his boss comes around to check on his progress, or lack thereof—he's been distracted by my feminine charm.

  The boss guy glances at the spectacles in Jay's hands. He shakes his head at him in response, misreading the situation. “No, Jay. Just no. It won't suit you.”

  “It's not mine!” Jay snaps in shame as he flings the glasses into a nearby trash can.

  Wasn't it him who told me to respect other people's stuff ? Something about it being a felony destroying someone else's property, as in my SpongeBob spectacles? Then again, call us even because I damaged two of his infamous leather jackets.

  “Sure it isn't,” I say sarcastically, adding to his humiliation. “Don't hide from us, Jay.”

  The boss bursts out in laughter as a result and I smile, satisfied.

  “Even if I did, you'd somehow find me,” Jay retaliates, in turn, much to my own amusement. He's not wrong.

  I turn to the boss for assistance. “Boss Man, I'm technically still a customer here and Jay won't see to my orders,” I lie, having not ordered anything yet.

  Jay's fury filled eyes snap to mine accusingly.

  His boss grins at me, setting me straight. “You do know that my name isn't actually Boss Man, right?”

  “Why bother?” Jay asks him. “Not like she'll listen anyway, Greg.”

  Ding, ding, ding! Right again. We have a winner. It's me!

  Boss Man turns to face Jay, immediately reprimanding him. “Stop being rude and just take the order, Jay. It's protocol. Follow our rules or I'll have to follow our disciplinary procedures,” he says in warning before leaving to check on the rest of his customers.

  “You heard him, Jay,” I repeat, spinning around in circles on the bar chair, “stop being rude.”

  “I can't.” He defends himself with a smirk. “It's part of my nature. It's who I am. Can't be changed.”

  “Anyway—” I change the topic, bored, “—I'll take a Tequila.” I add in a demanding voice, “And make it snappy!”

  “No way,” is his polite and courteous reply.

  I grab my spectacles from the empty trash can and place them back on my face to punish him further. I begin speaking in a British accent, “Well, poppet, if you do not comply and get me my cup of tea then I will have no choice but to inform your manager.”

  “You didn't order tea,” he says quietly, restraining himself from lashing out.

  He sends me a deadpanned stare, waiting for me to break. I shrug and stare back at him, both of us waiting for the other to break first. It's an intense competition and I'm afraid to even blink in fear of losing to him.

  “Cave, cave, cave, cave, cave!” I chant repetitively.

  Eventually, he sighs and does exactly that. He gives in. “I hate you, Aqueela Lawson.”

  “Love you too, JT. Now get my drink,” I reply, showing off my pearly whites in a grin of victory.

  I spin around on the bar chair, facing the other customers, and begin to sing at the top of my voice, enthusiastically beating my fist through the air. “Jay's got the magic in him! When he hits the floor the girls come snappin' at him.” I raise my hands, encouraging them to all join. “Everybody now!”

  “Have mercy,” Jay groans as people begin to sing along.

  ***

  “Are you satisfied with yourself ? You saw my work and successfully destroyed my rep,” Jay lectures me as we walk side-by-side to the ice cream store—I thought I deserved a treat after that incredible performance.

  “What rep? Jay, your only reputation is being mean. You ignored all those poor girls,” I state, pointing out the obvious as I happily skip down the path beside him, my energy not quite diminished as of yet.

  “Maybe it's because I'm not interested,” he replies solemnly. “Now, I beg of you, take those damn glasses off already.”

  I did give him a hard time at his work today, especially when half the customers began to sing “Jay's got the magic” too. To say that I embarrassed Jay would be an understatement; in fact, I'm surprised that he's even still talking to me.

  “Alright. Fine. I'll let you win, just this once, so don't get used to it,” I say and remove the glasses.

  He lets out a sigh of relief. “So much better. Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome, sir,” I respond in the same high-pitched British accent that I had used earlier.

  “And do me a favor and drop the tone…and the accent…and the voice altogether. In fact, just stop talking,” he orders, entering the ice cream store before me. “Stop breathing,” he adds under his breath, meaning for me to hear.

  Well, I have no idea what's gotten him so cranky. No, wait, I do. It's me.

  Well done, me!

  I quickly enter after him and catch up with his long strides.

  “Jay!” Simo belches out in excitement upon seeing him.

  “'Sup, my man,” Jay greets casually, holding out his fist to the big guy.

  Simo all too eagerly fist bumps him, in turn, a big grin on his face, as always.

  I raise an eyebrow in question. “When did you two get so cozy?”

  “Since the guy bought me a new jacket after this idiot I know ruined my last two,” Jay reminds me with a pointed glare.

  I tap my chin in mock thought. “Who was that legend again?” I ask and then laugh at Jay's angry facial expression. “Oh, right,” I say giddily. “It was me.”

  “You're so annoying.” He shakes his head in disapproval. “Simo.” I nod curtly, addressing him courteously.

  “I said, drop the British accent!” Jay complains.

  I burst out laughing at his expense, that is until Simo opens his mouth and ruins it all, “Sprinkle!”

  My head snaps to the easily excitable puppy in warning. “Shut it, Simo. I know you know my name!”

  “Sprinkle! Sprinkle! Sprinkle!” He hums all too happily to himself, doing a
joyful jiggle here and there.

  “I have to kill you now.” I sigh in aggravation, reaching over the counter to strangle him, only to be pulled back by Jay before I can get my hands on him.

  Jay takes me aside, against my will. “Go easy on the guy. If it isn't obvious enough, he has a thing for you. Don't ask me why. I can't come up with anything that is remotely appealing about you.”

  I mimic him like a child in response to his insult.

  “I'm serious,” Jay says. “For some reason beyond me, he likes you, so cut out the cocky attitude. Alright?”

  “I will when you do.” I push him away from me, not wanting him in close proximity anymore. “And how do you know this?”

  “He loves to tease you because he enjoys seeing you worked up. He calls everyone by their names except you. Plus, he is constantly smiling when you're around,” he answers, opening my eyes up to the truth. He poses some valid points. “He favors you over the rest of us, hence the special treatment.”

  Says the one who got a brand new jacket from him.

  “Simo always smiles!” I stomp my foot like a kid in determination, refusing to believe it. The thought just doesn't sit well with me.

  He shakes his head. “Not when you're not around. He was frowning the other day when I came by. You've never seen him stop smiling because all it takes is you and suddenly he is the happiest guy on the planet.”

  “Kind of like our situation then.” I grin, already knowing the response that I'd get.

  “No! Nothing like our situation,” Jay answers, infuriated, just as expected. I watch, entertained, as he storms off to go order ice cream.

  “Jay, I want ice cream and I don't have money on me,” I whine, following after him.

  He closes his eyes before sighing in frustration. “I'll pay for you,” he eventually says, opening his eyes to look at me.

  I smile in gratitude when he buys me bubblegum ice cream without having to ask what flavor I want. He hands me my ice cream and I practically snatch it out of his hands, eager to devour it.

  “A 'thank you' always suffices,” he mumbles and heads for the exit.

  I act on instincts, grabbing him by his arm to stop him from leaving. “Thank you,” I say without warning, moving past him to throw my arms around his neck. When he stiffens, I regret it and quickly release him before I get another lecture on personal space like the last time I did something impulsive.