34: Double Meaning

Marie

     I hear a familiar voice as I walk up the stairs next to the bathroom at work. Jesse is here.
     I walk up to the bar itself in a very nonchalant way, say hello to Jones, and sign in to work. Then I glance up and see Erin has come to be with Bryce. Good.

     "Man, it is 'hot' today, isn't it, Bryce?" Jesse asks to my boss.
     "It is 'hot,'" he agrees. "Think I should turn the fans 'up'?" he asks, and I wonder why they stressed certain words in the way they did. I have to agree it's hot, but that is to be expected. In fact, that's why I was sure to put on this crop top and short shorts. They said it would be over a hundred Fahrenheit, and I guess that's hot.
      "How are you?" I quietly ask Erin.
      "I'm okay," she answers just as quietly. I can tell she's nervous, so I don't pester her.
      Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jesse deliberately go and sit at a table, saying something about finding cooler temperatures away from the bar.
       Great, I think sarcastically. Now he's my customer.
        I grudgingly walk over to him while he watches my legs. He's being obvious. Fine. He wants to play? I'll play.

        "Can I get you anything, Captain Gillespie?" I say with a marvelously straight face.
        I see him come up with several, possibly very varied answers from his expression. The one he chooses, however, mildly disappoints me.
        "Nothing right now, thanks. Still working on this one," he looks up and grins as he says, "How about I let you know, Marie?"
       I shrug and say, "Suit yourself." He just had to say my name! I turn around and walk over to help Jones with whatever.
       Hours go by, and I serve various patrons. Occasionally so he can't claim I was ignoring him, I ask Jesse if he needs another beer. He always says no.
       "That beer is probably way too hot now. Let me get you a fresh one," I suggest.
       "There are hotter things, I'm sure. No reason I should give up on it just because it isn't perfect."
       Hm. "Well, let me know if you change your mind."
        "I will," he says and stares at the top of his bottle.
       The sun starts to set, and Bryce tells me to go ahead and go home. I'm surprised, but he assures me it's fine since we're not that busy. As I walk down the stairs, I momentarily wonder why Jesse didn't insist he walk me home. He merely sits at his table quietly like he's brooding about something. Well, if he wants to get a fresh beer now, then he has to get it himself. I've only asked him twenty times today.

        I get about halfway to my apartment before I turn around to glance behind me. As I do, I see that Jesse is standing near the railing and facing my direction. He quickly turns away to try to make it not look like he was watching me. I find myself smiling as I continue on my way.

Jesse

     "What are you doing?" Bryce growls next to me. "Do you want me to serve her up to you on a silver platter? I let her off early for your sake."
       I answer him in a way that he won't expect. "I'm glad you sent her home. I don't think I could've taken much more of that." I turn to look at him with a serious expression. "I'm leaving her alone... as much as I can." Though the sight of her in that outfit... ungh!
      "What?" he whips out of his mouth.
      "Yep. Bugging the hell out of her didn't work."
      "After two days. Since when do you give up after only two days?"
      "Who says I gave up?" I ask him with a ridiculous grin that I can't hold back.
      "Oh there you are! I wondered where the hell my friend went." He scratches his neck a little before he says, "So, I gave my waitress the rest of the night off for nothing is what you're saying."
      "No. I couldn't take much more of her prancing around in front of me in that getup." I suddenly remember the beer in my hand. "I need a cold one, this thing is flat as piss."

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    The next day, I'm sitting at the counter at work trying to make sense of some irritating figures before the auditors pay me a visit when one of those sudden downpours hit. Five minutes ago, it was perfectly sunny, but now there's a huge storm raging.
      Well, that's going to drive the customers away, not that I had any anyway.

      All of a sudden, the door bursts open and in walks Marie of all people, drenched to the bone. Her wet clothes stick to her in all the right places, and I look my fill while she acts like she's getting water out of her ear. Then, I quickly plaster a smile on my face.
      "Marie!" I say like I'm still as happily surprised as I was a few seconds ago. "Hell of a weather change, huh?" I ask after she's whipped her head around in my direction. I'm... talking about the weather. I've been reduced to talking about the weather.
       "What are you doing here?" she asks.
       "I manage this place. What? You thought I didn't work?" Okay, this is better. Now I'm teasing.
       "I..." she stammers around, "didn't think about it actually." Ow.

     "Does it always do this? This all sunshine and then the rain comes without warning?" she asks, indicating the storm outside.
      "Sometimes. Especially if the day is really hot," I ever so slightly stress the 'h.' I love words like hot that have another meaning. "You're all wet." I say dryly. Another great word.
     "Yes, I'm soaked," she says in a mildly irritated fashion, and it's all I can do to keep from laughing.
     "Well, what are we going to do about it?" I can't resist saying as my imagination tortures me with different possibilities.
      I think she finally starts to catch on when her eyes narrow ever so slightly before she says, "I'll put up with it, I guess. Sometimes that's just what you have to do with annoying things."
      Arg. "Well, you don't have to. I sell a little bit of everything, and I can give you a discount. That's what I do for my friends, and we're friends, right?" I offer, not really wanting to have her change clothes, but I also can't help with the whole 'friends discount' thing. Hm. I don't sell underwear.

      "I suppose so," she says, and I'm momentarily confused as to whether or not she means we're friends or she'll buy clothes. I don't get a chance to make her clarify as she marches to the part of the store where we have a few things like touristy shirts and shorts. She quickly picks up the first shirt and pair of shorts she finds in her size. Then she looks at me in confusion like she doesn't know what to do now.
      I smile kindly and say, "Let me just have the tags. I'll ring 'em up and you can pay for them after you've changed. Let me get you a bag for your wet clothes." She hands me the tags, and I do as I said I would, wondering where her underwear will end up. Will she leave them on or take them off? If she leaves them on, then there's no point in putting on dry shorts.
       She doesn't take long to change, and when she comes out, her shorts are completely dry. She buys the clothes she has on while the rain continues. It only just now occurs to both of us that if she goes out in that again, she's wasted her time getting dry clothes. I stand here behind the counter and watch her to see what she'll do now.

        "How long does this usually last?" she asks.
        "It's rain," I say with a shrug. "It could be five minutes; it could keep raining into the night."
        A look of horror all of a sudden crosses her face. "No! I left my windows open at home!" She darts for the door.
         I quickly stuff away the irritating paperwork and say, "Hold up a sec! You're the only customer I've had all day, and this rain will keep them away anyway. I'll close up and drive you over there. You'll make it there faster, and you won't get soaked again." You can't argue with that. I stuff the register printout with the paperwork and walk around the counter with my keys in my hand.
       She lets out a little huff before she says, "Fine."

       We pull up in front of her place and she says, "Oh no!" She'd left her windows very open, and I haven't a doubt her apartment is getting rain all in it.
        "I hope you have a lot of towels," I say and race after her in the rain.
        She glances at me for a second like she's surprised I got out of the car, but then she focuses on unlocking her door. We both dash in, and she empties her linen closet while I go around and close all the windows.
        "Here," she says as she throws me a towel to start mopping up the water. I head to the one behind the couch and start trying to wipe up as much of the water as I can.
        "You need a dehumidifier," I say helpfully. "I think I have one somewhere."
        "What?" she asks like she can't hear me from where she is in the bedroom. I've done all I can do where I am, so I go and walk to her to say what I said again.

        However, once I'm in there I see that all she's doing is moving the water around. "No, not like that. You're not giving the rag a chance to soak up the water." I walk around her bed to kneel down next to her to show her what I mean. "Here. Like this." I watch as the towel sucks in the moisture.
        We're both crouched here on our knees, staring at the towel like it's the most fascinating thing on the planet for a minute or so when a loud crack rents the sky. A lightning bolt hits just outside the window on the lamppost on the opposite side of the street. We both make little scared noises and jump up to our feet.
       Our heads turn towards each other at about the same time, and when we realize how scared the other one was, we both start laughing. Then she looks down a little and realizes she'd grabbed fistfuls of my shirt in her fear. She, embarrassed, lets go and makes a small attempt to smooth out the wrinkles she made, not realizing how her hands press and rub my chest.
       I don't move a muscle, watching her eyes. I said I'd leave her alone... but she's so close! Once she's finished trying to fix my shirt, her eyes finally look up at mine and then widen as, I guess, she discovers how close we are. I want so bad to kiss her, but I wait and see what she'll do, wondering if she'll back away. She doesn't, so I move in a little more before pausing in a questioning way. I do this again, and she just stands her ground. I feel like it's been ages since the lightning strike across the street while I slowly cross this impossibly-huge distance to her mouth, pausing again very close to her.

       She still doesn't back away, so I close the tiny space left to her lips and finally press mine to hers while she stands there in silent shock. I don't know why she's shocked, but that's the emotion I get from her. Didn't I make this obvious? I think as I pull back a little and then kiss her again. This time she responds, and she shivers a little while I continue to coax more of a response out of her. Then she tilts her head some to the side and kisses me back. I find that during all this, my arms have wrapped around her, cradling her to me. Oh yes, Marie.

     I decide to take it a step further. They don't call it French kissing for nothing, right? Her hands lightly rest on my arms while I taste the inside of her mouth and caress her tongue with mine. She lets out a shaky exhale through her nose, and I can feel her shaking in my arms. I want to really go crazy and just kiss her until we're both gasping for air, but I don't because I can sense she really is scared. Why are you afraid of me? I think as I back off a little more, and she closes her mouth.
      She pulls away from me and says pleadingly, "Go. Just go. Please. Leave."
     What? "Why?" I ask quietly as I gently touch her lovely face. I'm not going anywhere without some kind of explanation.
       "Please. I can't. I just can't," she answers me by not answering me.

       "I have feelings for you, Marie, and I'm going to guess you feel the same about me. Why are you asking me to leave?" I say and ask, laying all my cards on the table, no more double meanings.
        "Jesse, you know why. I just can't."
       "All I'm asking is whatever you can give," I say, and I mean it, remembering my 'just hanging out' kind of date offer. I keep a light hold of her. I know she could break this hold if she really wanted to, but right now I doubt she will. This isn't the tough, black belt Marie I'm seeing. What I'm seeing is a very frightened almost-child.
      "I can give friendship. That is all."
       Bullshit, I think and debate kissing her again just to prove her wrong. Instead, I go out on a limb to ask what I'd thought earlier, "Why are you afraid of me?"
      "I'm not afraid of you!" she argues, and tough Marie is back in full force. She forces my arms off her and takes a step back.
      "Well, if you're not, then why are you asking me to leave?" I growl as I take a step forward.
      "Because this is my apartment!" She keeps backing up.
      "That's not a reason!" I keep moving forward.
      "Fine! Because you kissed me-"
      "You kissed me back."
      "- and this is getting out of hand."
      "Out of hand?" I ask. "How is this out of hand?"
      "I don't want this," she says and now stands in front of the entryway into her kitchen.
      "You could've fooled me," I say, and she gets quiet. We've both stopped in our tracks, staring at each other. I know I did not imagine her kissing me back, and I'm angry she won't own up to her feelings.
      "I need time," she finally says, and I know she's right.

       Damn it! "How much time are we talking here? Weeks? Months? Years? A decade? Give me some kind of timetable for you to need to dump all this shit you're carrying around with you. Or, how long are you planning on nursing your problems and giving them strength until that's all that you are?"
       "Get out," she says icily.
       "Fine," I snap and storm out of her house.

      When I get home, I look over to the passenger-side floorboard and see the bag that has Marie's wet clothes in it. She must've left it when she was more worried about dashing out of the car to get inside and mop up the water. I shrug and pick it up. I suppose I'll go ahead and wash the clothes before giving them back to her so they don't mildew... though why I want to do something as thoughtful as that for her beats me.
     As I pull the clothes out of the bag, I'm reminded of how they'd molded themselves around her, and the memory tortures me.
      She did take off her panties because here they are, I think and smile a goofy grin. And they're wet, I think now as I get a kick out of my double meaning.

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"But... what about what happens with the whole Bryce/Erin/Sean thing? Did they let Sean out? What did he do once they did if they did?" you ask? I'll get to that in the next chapter. I just wanted to put the Jesse/Marie bit all together. :)