things."
"Well, I dunno what mailing list you're subscribed to, but it ain't mine."
"You're straight edge?" She cocked her head to the side, a chip in her fingers dripping melted cheese into the bowl.
"Alcohol, yeah," I said. "But, I've never done a drug in my life."
"Really? Smoked?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Because a sick sad part of me doesn't want cancer?" Her questioning my life choices like that kinda annoyed the hell out of me. Like I couldn't live unless I've been off my face on E that'd been cut with laundry powder? Fucking hell.
"I didn't mean anything by it," she said quietly. "It's just you don't meet many people who haven't at least tried something once or twice."
"I'm old fashioned, I guess."
"You take care of yourself," she declared. "I like it."
We ate in silence for a while, neither of us seeming to know how to continue. All those things I'd thought about asking her just pissed off somewhere else and I couldn't think of anything. Her eyes were on her plate, so I stared at her, willing something to come to mind.
"Why'd you move to New York?" She looked up, her eyes widening for a moment and I wondered if I'd asked the wrong question.
"The same reason everyone moves there," she said. "To chase a dream."
"What's your dream?"
Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she let out a long sigh. "I'm not a musician like you. I wanted to have that kind of life, though. I think about music much the same as you do. I can't live without it. The only other thing I could've done was be a music journalist or work at a label. So, I managed to get an internship and here we are."
"Just like that?"
"Well, that was the condensed version, but yeah."
"Do you want to be a marketing manager?"
She laughed wryly at my question. "Sounds boring when you say it like that, but it's not really a nine to five job."
"Not really," I grinned thinking of the stuff we got up to touring and recording.
"What about you? Was the band always your dream?"
"Yes." There wasn't anything else to say.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." Seemed like we both knew exactly what we wanted in life and that turned me on more than I knew it would. Jessie seemed very driven and focused on her career, so much so it was a little intimidating. "What's your tattoo?" I asked, letting my eyes run over her arm.
"Flowers," she said. "Honeysuckle and butterflies."
"And the other one?"
She fingered the collar of her shirt, pulling it aside so I could see, sending my body into overdrive. "It's a skull and cross bones," she laughed as I took in the ink over her heart. "Very original. What are yours?"
"Sugar skulls, pinups, stars, spider webs. You know, bloke tattoos." She laughed at my abrupt description. "What?"
"I like how you say, bloke . You sound very Australian when you say it. Bloke. " She tried to mimic my accent without much success. She just sounded more French, which drew me in even more.
I felt a grin spread across my face. I liked her. I really fucking liked her. It was way more than a physical thing and I found myself hoping that she felt it too. Who cared if she lived in New York and I lived in Melbourne? Who cared. I'd make it work for a girl like Jessie.
"Oh, shit," she said, looking at her watch. "It's getting late and I have a meeting tomorrow."
"Oh." I tried not to sound disappointed. I wasn't ready to let her go yet. It felt like I'd hardly scratched the surface.
I paid for dinner and walked her to her door like the gentleman I was and I was about to say goodnight and sneak a kiss on her cheek when she came out with a cracker.
"Why'd you ask me out?"
She was looking at me with her big beautiful eyes and I just had to say it.
"Because," I waved my hand between us. "There was something there."
"Was?"
"Is."
"Oh." She fumbled for her keycard and slid it into the lock, the little light flashing green. Before it closed behind her she gave me a small smile. "Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome."
The door closed between us and I
"Well, I dunno what mailing list you're subscribed to, but it ain't mine."
"You're straight edge?" She cocked her head to the side, a chip in her fingers dripping melted cheese into the bowl.
"Alcohol, yeah," I said. "But, I've never done a drug in my life."
"Really? Smoked?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Because a sick sad part of me doesn't want cancer?" Her questioning my life choices like that kinda annoyed the hell out of me. Like I couldn't live unless I've been off my face on E that'd been cut with laundry powder? Fucking hell.
"I didn't mean anything by it," she said quietly. "It's just you don't meet many people who haven't at least tried something once or twice."
"I'm old fashioned, I guess."
"You take care of yourself," she declared. "I like it."
We ate in silence for a while, neither of us seeming to know how to continue. All those things I'd thought about asking her just pissed off somewhere else and I couldn't think of anything. Her eyes were on her plate, so I stared at her, willing something to come to mind.
"Why'd you move to New York?" She looked up, her eyes widening for a moment and I wondered if I'd asked the wrong question.
"The same reason everyone moves there," she said. "To chase a dream."
"What's your dream?"
Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she let out a long sigh. "I'm not a musician like you. I wanted to have that kind of life, though. I think about music much the same as you do. I can't live without it. The only other thing I could've done was be a music journalist or work at a label. So, I managed to get an internship and here we are."
"Just like that?"
"Well, that was the condensed version, but yeah."
"Do you want to be a marketing manager?"
She laughed wryly at my question. "Sounds boring when you say it like that, but it's not really a nine to five job."
"Not really," I grinned thinking of the stuff we got up to touring and recording.
"What about you? Was the band always your dream?"
"Yes." There wasn't anything else to say.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." Seemed like we both knew exactly what we wanted in life and that turned me on more than I knew it would. Jessie seemed very driven and focused on her career, so much so it was a little intimidating. "What's your tattoo?" I asked, letting my eyes run over her arm.
"Flowers," she said. "Honeysuckle and butterflies."
"And the other one?"
She fingered the collar of her shirt, pulling it aside so I could see, sending my body into overdrive. "It's a skull and cross bones," she laughed as I took in the ink over her heart. "Very original. What are yours?"
"Sugar skulls, pinups, stars, spider webs. You know, bloke tattoos." She laughed at my abrupt description. "What?"
"I like how you say, bloke . You sound very Australian when you say it. Bloke. " She tried to mimic my accent without much success. She just sounded more French, which drew me in even more.
I felt a grin spread across my face. I liked her. I really fucking liked her. It was way more than a physical thing and I found myself hoping that she felt it too. Who cared if she lived in New York and I lived in Melbourne? Who cared. I'd make it work for a girl like Jessie.
"Oh, shit," she said, looking at her watch. "It's getting late and I have a meeting tomorrow."
"Oh." I tried not to sound disappointed. I wasn't ready to let her go yet. It felt like I'd hardly scratched the surface.
I paid for dinner and walked her to her door like the gentleman I was and I was about to say goodnight and sneak a kiss on her cheek when she came out with a cracker.
"Why'd you ask me out?"
She was looking at me with her big beautiful eyes and I just had to say it.
"Because," I waved my hand between us. "There was something there."
"Was?"
"Is."
"Oh." She fumbled for her keycard and slid it into the lock, the little light flashing green. Before it closed behind her she gave me a small smile. "Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome."
The door closed between us and I
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