FIC "Electric Dreams"

[newbiepoet.livejournal.com]

 Title: Electric Dreams 

Author: moi: newbiepoet/hazey_jane_i - whichever username you wanna call me.

Pairing: Greg/Jen (but of course)

Chapters: 8 in total, this is 5-8

Rating: PG-13. language.

Word Count: 12,059 total. 7,632 in this section.

Notes: Credit to Emma Garrard, the lovely jennipie1993, for the plot bunny.

Apologies for posting such a large piece at once, but i'm going away for two weeks, so rather than drag it out for that long i decided this was a better arrangement. Also hence i might not reply to any comments for several weeks, sorry! :)

 

Summary: Does fate exist? Or are events merely coincidental? 

Chapter 5

 

They had arranged to meet at a little Italian restaurant of Jennifer’s choosing, (”you pick, seriously, ladies choice”) and she was to wait outside, red rose in hand, (“I know it’s a cliché…” “No, I like it!”) As Jennifer nervously touches up her make up, even though she doesn’t need it, she contents herself with dreaming up ‘G’, eager to meet him. She smiles softly, trying not to build up too much of an expectation. She knows he’s clever, that much is clear, and witty too. He likes the same things as her. Even if he’s ugly they could at least be friends. She sighs slightly, warning herself silently to not get too ahead of herself.

“He’s not here yet Jennifer.” she breathes to herself, tugging her black coat tighter, tapping the heel of her shiny stiletto apprehensively.

 

 

Greg mops up the last table, tugging off his apron. His mind had been on meeting mystery J all day. What did she look like? What did she sound like? He chews his lip nervously, stomach flipping at the thought. He rolls his eyes at himself as he turns to leave.

“Proops?!” He froze.

“Yeah…?” he asks, cringe in his voice as he turns to face his irate and exasperated boss.

“I need you to fill a spot tonight.” Greg’s eyes widen.

“You what?” he stammers.

“I need you to fill a spot, my guy cancelled.” Greg bites his lip glancing at the clock.

“But I have to be somewhere-”

“Well that somewhere will have to wait Proops No performance tonight, no job tomorrow” Greg stares at him. This was his only club, his only place where someone would actually let him onstage, where he gets exposure.

“Proops! Now!” The boss calls. Grudgingly he steps onto the stage, into the spotlight that for once he doesn’t want, pulling the mic towards him and beginning J’s Police material with particular vengeance, thinking of her all the time, praying he‘ll catch her in time. 

 

The sun fades slowly, the darkness descending over the streets of San Francisco, the cool breeze turning harsher. Jennifer tries to keep the tears from her eyes as she glances at her watch again.

She stares down at the rose as a teardrop lands on the petal, before slowly sliding the delicate flower into the black trashcan. “Goodbye G. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” She sniffs as the sharp wind catches her cheek like a slap, tugging at her hair and snapping up the autumn leaves around her on the sidewalk. Slowly, jerkily, she turns, eyes on the squares of concrete in front of her. Such a stupid idea…to fall for someone who probably was never real in the first place… Who probably had no intention of ever meeting her. She steps slowly, avoiding all the cracks, heart breaking a little more with each step, not even sure her feet will let her stay upright all the way home. All of a sudden she squeaks, stumbling backwards.

“Oh shit…fuck…are you alright?” she hears the familiar voice ask, followed by “Hey! Coffee girl!” and gentle but strong hands lifting her up. She gazes up, finding herself staring into the dark chocolate eyes of coffee guy.

“Y-yeah I’m alright…” she stammers, “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this” she quips with a slight smile. He smiles back, but peers over her shoulder eagerly. Greg glances around, heart sinking as he spots the rose poking out of the trashcan, knowing he is too late, the scarlet petals clear even in the dim light.

“Um…sir…?” Jennifer says tentatively. Greg jumps, gazing back at her.

“It’s Greg sweetie, Greg.” He says gently, giving her a charming smile.

“O-ok…Greg, you’re still holding onto me.” she points out quietly. Greg blinks at her before beginning to laugh. Jennifer laughs too, his snort infectious.

“Sorry pookie” he says, gently releasing her from his sheltering embrace, the wind immediately whipping at her hair and coat. “Fly away home little blackbird” he jokes fondly as Jennifer is nearly carried off in a gust.

“I’m Jennifer” she says as she smiles, holding out her hand to him. Greg takes her slender fingers protectively in his own.

“Pleasure to meet you Jennifer, or is it Jenny?” he asks, curious.

“Jennifer” she replies firmly. “I hate Jenny” Greg chuckles at her insistence. Jennifer smiles back up at him.

“Tell me Jennifer not Jenny, what’re you doing out here at this time of night all alone?” Jennifer sighs, shaking her head,

“Being stood up.” She says sadly. Greg frowns slightly, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the notion. He smiles, hedging his bets and taking a gamble. He could apologise to J later, give him time to think up his grovelling technique.

“Well…would you like to have dinner with me?” He watches her hazel eyes flit around nervously; worried he’s pushed it too far too soon. He bites his lip as she scrapes her windswept waves back from her face, staring as she nods tossing all her cares and thoughts of G into the wind as it pulls at her.

“Yes, yes I would Greg” she says, turning to face him with a clear smile. Greg beams relief flooding though him.

“Great!” he beams brightly, holding out his arm for her. She smiles, linking her arm in the crook of his elbow and they head inside off the dark, cold street, both pushing back the thought of their could-have-been date.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6

 

Greg seats Jennifer before himself, smiling across the table at her. She catches his eye, returning the smile bashfully, blushing faintly and trying to comb out her tangled hair.

“Your hair looks lovely Jennifer” he says, almost tentatively, toying with the shiny silver cutlery at his sides. Jennifer looks up, bright smile cracking her lips, eyes glinting in the candlelight.

“Oh…thank you Greg” she says. Greg gazes at her, taking in her entire demeanour: her pale face and soft lips, pointed chin and sharp nose. But what he finds most captivating is her hazel eyes, sparkling with eager intelligence and mystery. Jennifer looks down at herself nervously, and back to him.

“Is something wrong? Do I not look right?” she asks, panicky. Greg shakes his head,

“No…you’re perfect…” he says without thinking, blushing almost as pink as Jennifer. She gazes across the table at him, unable to help admiring his features; wild biscuit curls, smooth skin, firm jaw line, and his eyes, dark chocolate and twinkling at her.

“Your not so bad yourself” she says quietly. Greg beams in disbelief, not daring to challenge her for fear she’d then agree.

 

The spell breaks as the waiter appears to take their orders. Greg chuckles softly as Jennifer orders, grinning. Jennifer scowls slightly,

“What?” she asks, defensive.

“Sir?” the waiter asks, pencil poised above his notepad.

“I will have the same please, the prawns and the grilled sea bass.” he grins at Jennifer, who immediately smiles back. The waiter nods, “Oh and a bottle of house white” he says, handing his menu over, “if that’s ok with Jennifer” Jennifer nods, taken aback at being asked her opinion. The waiter smiles and disappears. Jennifer runs a hand through her hair nervously again, picking up the silver spoon, examining herself in the back of it. Greg reaches over and gently pulls it out her hand, shivering as their fingertips brush.

“I told you, you look lovely Jennifer. Stop worrying.” he smiles kindly at her, sitting back again. Jennifer returns the smile, looking more relaxed, sliding off her thick coat. Greg blinks as her slender figure becomes clear from behind the jacket, but decides not to say anything for fear of embarrassing her more. 

 

“So Jennifer, besides serving coffee what do you do?” He asks, curious. “Wait, let me guess…” he frowns slightly, gazing at her. “Musician?” Jennifer laughs, shaking her head,

“Close, I’m an artist.” Greg starts, the word artist triggering a bell in his brain.

“Oh, wow. That’s brilliant. What do you paint?” he enquires, sitting up straighter. 

“Various things, anything I can think of really, I do a lot of symbolic work and abstract. I do some realism stuff too.” Greg beams, amazed at her. “I love to paint but sadly I don’t get much money from it, hence the coffee job” Greg nods, knowing from experience the frustration of not making money. They look up as the waiter appears, holding up the bottle. Greg gestures for Jennifer to sample it, Jennifer looking more surprised as he does, but tasting it anyway.

“Its lovely, thank you.” she says with a nod. The waiter tops up their glasses, leaving again with a smile at the couple. They sit in companionable silence for a moment, sipping their wine and taking in the calm atmosphere; the quiet music and soft lighting.

“I love this restaurant…” Jennifer sighs happily, “They cook their food to perfection.” Greg frowns slightly again, remembering J saying this was her favourite restaurant. He shakes his head, pushing the possibility from his mind. No way.

“So tell me Jennifer, how did you start painting?” Jennifer smiles sadly,

“My dad, he encouraged me all my life.” Greg beams,

“That’s so lucky sweetie, bet he thinks you’re real talented.” Jennifer nods,

“He did yeah” Greg pauses, detecting the past tense.

“Did…oh golly sweetie I’m sorry. That was tactless of me.” Jennifer shrugs,

“You weren’t to know.” Greg reaches over the table taking her hand comfortingly, stroking over her elegant fingers with his own. Jennifer looks up, smiling gratefully at him for not questioning.

 

They jump apart as their starters arrive, blushing profusely at each other.

“Bon appetite” Greg says with a smile, digging into his meal.

 

As the evening progresses and they chat amiably about different topics, each finding the other to be the ultimate in dinner company; charming, witty, interesting. Yet every time Greg closes his eyes the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind awakens. There is definitely something familiar about her. Jennifer meanwhile buries any lasting thought of G deep down, freezing the hurt over until she can deal with it alone, attention rapt on Greg.

“That’s amazing!” She exclaims as Greg bashfully admits he is a stand up comedian. Greg beams, “May I hear some?” she asks, “Just one joke?“ she pouts playfully. Greg chuckles and nods.

“Who could say no to that?” And so he begins apprehensively with his best material, J’s Police notes. He watches her very carefully for any sign of recognition. “I mean, what is with that Jamaican accent?” Jennifer laughs softly, puzzled, she’d told someone that the other day…. Well surely people can have the same opinion as her, and if they do all the better. She shakes her head at her own ridiculousness, sinking into the swear fest soliloquy that is Greg’s stand up material, more and more amazed his opinions marry with hers completely.

“I think your very talented Greg.” she says softly, as he finishes his music set.

“Thanks.” he squeaks, heart hammering “though I had a little help from someone on that set.” Jennifer frowns slightly, before snorting to herself, ignoring the possibility, not wanting to think about G after earlier. Greg catches this, mind reeling. Could it be…?

 

****

 

Greg sets down his coffee cup as carefully as he can with a sheepish grin.

“I’m trying not to spill my coffee like I did in the café, I saw you blush on my behalf. I’m not so good at the elegant thing, not like you.” Jennifer snorts,

“I’m so not elegant Greg; I make such a mess of everything.” Greg raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I do! Really. You should see my apartment, it’s a state.” Jennifer falters suddenly, “Not that…you know…that’s not an invitation or anything…” she sighs, trailing off, “put the spade down Jennifer” she mutters. Greg laughs loudly,

“You’re adorable when you’re nonsensical” he says kindly. “I know what you mean, of course it wasn’t sweetie.” he reassures her calmly. Jennifer nods shyly, feeling foolish now.

“Guess we’re even now huh pookie? I did spill coffee all down myself.” Jennifer laughs and nods. She glances at her watch, eyes widening,

“Oh my… it’s nearly 10pm. We’ve been here for 3 hours!” Greg gazes at her, best three hours of my life…but instead he says;

“Oh? Well we’d best get going I think, don’t want you being late for work again Jennifer.” She nods in agreement as Greg calls over the waiter.

“Greg, let me” Greg smiles, placing his hand over hers,

“Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a beautiful lady like you pay for dinner?” he grins cheekily, handing the waiter his card. 

 

Jennifer smiles softly at him as they stand, Greg reaching out to slip her jacket back over her shoulders.

“Thank you.” she says with a beam, and Greg’s heart lifts. They stroll out into the cold night air, Jennifer grateful the wind has died down now. Greg pauses, facing her with a nervous grin.

“So…can I walk you home Jennifer? Just walk.” he says, biting his lip. She nods.

“Yeah…I’d like that.” she replies, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and accepting his arm happily. Greg beams in disbelief, walking contentedly along the sidewalk with her. He gazes down at her, chuckling slightly as he sees her lost in her own little world, singing to herself. Listening carefully Greg’s eyes widen; she was singing J’s favourite song. His step falters slightly, earth shattering realization rushing though him. J…Jennifer.

“Shit…” he breathes. Jennifer looks up,

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing, Jennifer, I just realized something I gotta do.” Jennifer smiles politely, holding his arm a little tighter. She stops reluctantly outside her apartment.

“This is me.” she sighs, meeting his eyes with a sadness Greg returned at the thought of parting.

“I had a wonderful time Jennifer, really.” she nods, blushing, tucking her long hair back behind her ear from where it decided to spring forwards,

“So did I.” she replies, licking her lips, looking up at him expectantly. Greg swallows, kissing her cheek. Jennifer casts her eyes to the pavement, disappointment flowing through her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Jennifer” Greg says gently, kissing her nose and brushing a hand through her silky hair with a warm smile. Jennifer smiles back forlornly as she leaves his warm embrace all too soon.

 

Slowly Jennifer goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, clicking on her computer out of habit, some small spark of hope still in her heart. Greg…that just…worked. So why didn’t he kiss me? And G, I guess he never cared. She sighs sadly, accepting the fact her love life would never come to fruition. She curls up under her covers, slipping to sleep before she even realizes.

 

Greg waves her inside before thrusting his hands in his pockets, mind in turmoil. J…Jennifer. What were the odds the woman you fell in love with is fucking real and fucking incredible. She really did wait, and she binned the rose in hurt. She thinks you stood her up. And then, some time later as he unlocked his door and stumbled inside, still dazed, you didn’t kiss her you moron. You owe her one fuck of an apology. And with that, a confused and disorientated Greg collapsed on his bed, falling straight to a fitful sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

Greg awakens as the fragile sunlight winks at him in the early hours of the morning. He groans, rolling over in his bed with tattered sheets, in the hope of sleeping some more before a thought strikes him.

“Oh buggery fuck fuck Jesus shit…” he mutters a stream of fluent blasphemies as he stumbles out of bed, cocooned in his duvet, tripping to the computer through the assorted junk on his bedroom floor.

 

Dear J,

Please forgive me. I wanted to arrive on time, I really did, I got held up at work…

 

Greg scowls, “She’d never believe that.” He growls to himself, quickly deleting the text, the flashing cursor mocking him at the top of a blank email.

 

Dear J,

 

Greg sighs, staring at the screen again. “Dear Jennifer, you’re simply amazing…” he breathes, giving in and shutting the pc back off, clambering into bed and into a dream filled sleep.

 

Jennifer sighs, stacking up coffee cups, bored as always with work. Outside the sun shines bright through the colourful city, and Jennifer wishes she could join it. Perfect day to share with someone, she thinks sadly. Two days and not a word from G, nor had she seen a glimpse of Greg. Jennifer re-scrapes her waving, unkempt hair into a ponytail, heading back to the front, stopping in her tracks as she sees Greg in the queue.

"Hey Dave, I’m back" Jennifer says softly, "Your turn for a break" David nods, trading jobs, stepping back from the till and into the back room. Jennifer smiles nervously at the expectant customer, serving them all quickly in her eagerness to talk to Greg. Quickly Jennifer tries to neaten her uniform as Greg approaches the counter. He laughs softly, goofy grin on his boyishly charming face,

"So Miss Canaga, how've you been keeping?" he asks, smiling softly, trying to be Mr Cool when on the inside his heart is hammering. He'd been deliberating it for the past two days, considering and cross matching every detail he knew of J and Jennifer, now almost positive that they are the same person. The concept sends shivers down his spine, making his heart ache with something ranging between joy and depression. After getting over the initial mind blowing concept that is. Now he'd no longer have to choose. He was in love with two separate women who are one and the same.

"Fine Greg, just fine." She says curtly, "Your regular?" He nods,

"Make it two, there's someone joining me." Jennifer's eyebrows rise immediately, unable to hide the annoyance her heart hammering.

"Who?" She snaps a little too bluntly. Greg chuckles slightly.

"You." he answers, grabbing the coffee cups and throwing down the money.

"But-" Jennifer tries to hide the excitement from her eyes, reminding herself she’s meant to be angry with Greg.

"No buts, come on! There’s only 5 minutes left on your shift, it won’t matter." Greg says, grabbing her hand and whisking her out the door, coffees shoved in his bag. Jennifer stumbles after him, apron flapping around.

"Greg, no! I have to go back to work!" she panics, making Greg laugh, holding her hand.

"You said to me you didn’t care about what your boss said. Don't make me carry you" he half-jokes as Jennifer tries to tug away from him. Greg turns as she stops.

"You wouldn't dare Proops." she says, and Greg nods.

"I would Miss Canaga, don't underestimate my powers of abduction." and with that scoops her up in his arms. Jennifer squeals, clutching onto him. Greg grins at her, carrying her along the street through the brilliant sunshine. Finally she relaxes into him.

"Where are you taking me Greg?" she asks with interest. He smiles softly,

"I'm taking you...to my place" Jennifer looks puzzled, her heart immediately beginning to pound.

"What for?" she asks, nerves showing through her voice.

"Nothing bad I promise. Just...to hang out, maybe have dinner again." He carries her up the stairs to his apartment, unlocking the door. "Sorry about the mess sweetie" he says sheepishly, opening the door to his scruffy apartment, setting her down gently. She smiles slightly

"I love mess, its just like mine." she explains, taking in the scuffed paintwork, the scattered shoes and littered coats around the hall. "It's homely, lived in." Greg smiles with relief

"Well thank fuck for that" he says, and Jennifer laughs, pulling off her coffee splattered apron, hanging it over the back of a chair. "Make yourself at home Jennifer" Greg smiles kindly, gesturing her to the sofa, flopping beside her as he slides off his shoes, motioning her to do the same. She does, falling into the old squashy, beat up sofa beside him.

"Coffee?" he offers, holding out her take away cup.

"Why thank you Mr Proops" she says, accepting the Styrofoam cup. “So this was your great plan? Kidnap me and take me to your apartment to drink take away coffee?” Greg laughs sheepishly,

“Pretty much. I thought…well, if you like, we could go out again” He says quietly, gazing at her. Jennifer tries to hide how enthusiastic her beam is, shrugging.

“Yeah, I mean sure, if you like…” she says nonchalantly, irrepressible grin spreading over her face. He beams back, and they sink into companionable silence, before she hears him stutter nervously.

“Um…actually, I was hoping you’d agree…so I booked us a table at a restaurant.” Jennifer turns to look at him, her eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed.

“You were so confident I would say yes, you mean?” she says haughtily. Greg grins again,

”No, simply hopeful. Don’t you wanna know what restaurant we’re going to?” she shrugs, clearly irritated with his assuming she’d say yes. “Restaurant a Proops.” He says, smirking, watching Jennifer’s irritation dissolve into surprise.

“You? You’re cooking?” Jennifer punches him “You are so annoying!” she exclaims, “You keep making me think you’re a prick!” Greg cracks up, laughing loudly ending in a classic Proops snort.

“Oh honey its not me controlling you, you’re just too quick to judge” he grins innocently. Jennifer hisses at him, folding her arms.

“Still your fault.” She mutters, making Greg chuckle more.

“And thus,” he says, “the reason I kidnapped you was because…” a bell dings in the background “dinner is ready.” He offers her his hand,

“Mademoiselle?” Jennifer smiles, taking his hand and letting him lead her to his dining room.

 

 

Jennifer gasps at the set table, the wine cooler and glasses, the napkins and polished cutlery, the table itself surrounded by all Greg’s assorted junk.

“Yeah, had nowhere else to put it all, it usually lives on the table, kind of an atmosphere killer I guess” Greg explains, shaking his head as he pulls out a chair for Jennifer. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Jennifer sits, frantically raking her hair, wishing she’d thought to pick up her bag from the lounge to check herself over as Greg disappears to the kitchen. She jumps up, grabbing her bag and quickly looking for the bathroom, peering around different doors with a chuckle at the turmoil of Greg’s apartment. Finally she finds the bathroom, mercifully clean and relatively tidy, and sets to work making herself presentable. Jennifer rapidly applies her make up, (her essentials of foundation, mascara, eyeliner and Vaseline never far away), before dragging a brush through her hair, wincing quietly as she hits tangles.

“Jennifer?” Greg calls.

“Coming…I, uh, had to pee” She blurts, tossing her hair over her shoulder, unfastening her top button of her blouse. “That’ll have to do…” she mutters with a disdainful scowl at her appearance, turning to head back to the dining room. Greg looks up as she wanders in, beaming at her.

“Well well, Miss Makeup” he teases playfully, making Jennifer blush profusely under her newly applied foundation, “You didn’t need to, you look gorgeous without it. But I appreciate the clothing modification” Jennifer snorts, sitting opposite him.

“Shut up. I’m just grateful your bathroom is hygienic.” Greg grins,

“Ah yes, I cleaned it earlier on. I hear women like cleanliness so thought I’d have a go at it” he jokes, making Jennifer laugh.

“This salad tastes really good Greg” she compliments,

“Well I’m glad, at least that’s one thing that’s edible on tonight’s menu” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Wine?” he offers, holding the bottle out.

“Yes please. White, are we having fish?” she asks, curious,

“Let’s hope so.” Greg grins, pouring them a glass each, lifting his. “To chance meetings” he says, and Jennifer nods, sipping from her glass, gazing at him for a brief moment before ducking her head to eat.

 

Jennifer and Greg eat in companionable silence, every so often catching eyes over the table as they lift their separate gazes in sync to become one. Greg jumps up to clear the starter dishes away with a nervous smile, “Here’s hoping my culinary skills are up to this next dish” Greg says with a hopeful smile, “I’ll be right back pookie” And he disappears back into the kitchen. Jennifer smiles softly gazing around, noting Greg’s apartment consists mainly as a storage place for his books and record collections. She stands up heading over to a set of shelves which contain a large volume of assorted vinyls, nosing through them.

“You like Velvet Underground?” she asks, spotting the tell tale Andy Warhol banana cover. She moves along the records, spotting a solid block of Heart vinyls, a light flicking in her mind, somebody else said they liked Heart…G? A spike of annoyance pangs her at remembering being stood up.

“Yeah, I do. I know that most people don’t but you know…” Greg wanders through, two plates of food in hand, “Dinner” he says apprehensively. Jennifer turns, beaming and sitting back down in her chair.

“Grilled sea bass?” she enquires, and Greg nods. She beams,

“I love sea bass! It’s such a good fish to cook. I usually put a little lemon and coriander over it before I grill, adds that extra little spice” Jennifer says happily, watching Greg’s face pale slightly,

“Are you…into cooking? Well shit, because I’m terrible at it. Hang on a second will you?” He asks nervously, sampling his meal with relief before Jennifer can, incase it tastes awful, “Ah good it’s still edible.” He mutters, and Jennifer laughs and nods

“Yeah I am, I love to cook, you’re doing well Greg” she encourages, eating her own meal happily, the fish cooked to perfection despite Greg’s novice level, the flavours different from the ones Jennifer would usually create.

“Something tells me by the things you just said there about lemon and coriander that you’re much better at it than I am. This is the first time I’ve cooked fish successfully with other people around” he admits, “I’m kind of an idiot in the kitchen.” Jennifer giggles, smiling fondly at him.

“I love cooking, its something I always thought about doing for a living, but there’s other things I’d set my heart on. I guess if they fall through chef is an option.” Greg looks at her curiously,

“What was the first choice? Clearly not a job for life in coffee retail” he jokes,

“No. Artist.” Jennifer’s head snaps up as she hears Greg’s cutlery clatter, and loud spluttering coming from his side of the table. Greg coughs loudly, having choked on a mouthful of fish in shock, the confirmation he needed right there in front of him. They are the same person. Jennifer jumps to her feet, patting him on the back firmly.

“Better?” she asks as his coughing fit subsides into raspy wheezing. Greg nods, involuntary tears streaming from his eyes.

”Yeah!” he squeaks, sipping his wine gratefully and wiping at his dark eyes with the napkin. Jennifer settles herself back in her seat,

“Honestly Greg you’d have thought after 25 years you would have learnt to eat and breathe properly.” Greg nods, cheeks red with the effort of coughing, catching his breath slowly again, before gingerly resuming eating, mind whirring. Now what was he going to do? They are exactly the same woman, his suspicions from days past confirmed.

 

“Greg…why are you staring at me?” Jennifer blushes, feeling paranoid, “Is there something on my face?” Greg jerks out of his trance-like state, shaking his head. He had been staring at her the past ten minutes, just watching her, seeing how she acts, taking careful mental notes as if studying a rare and exotic creature. So this is J, he thinks, caught by her elegant nature.

“No, no. Sorry. I was just…watching” he ends lamely, shrugging apologetically. Jennifer smiles shyly.

“Oh…well…” she mumbles, unsure where to go with her sentence, making Greg beam at her, charming the words from his lips.

“You’re beautiful Jennifer.” Greg blurts, gazing at her sincerely. Jennifer’s cheeks flush, surprise caught on her face before she can hide it.

“N-no I’m not Greg…I don’t- I mean-“ Greg smiles softly at her flustered behaviour, though saddened the surprise is genuine.

“People don’t tell you that often enough.” Greg says firmly, standing up to take their dishes away, leaving Jennifer to spin in her own confusing thoughts, principally; so he does like me after all? Jennifer gazes around the dining room again, this time with a keener eye, noting the stack of papers lying around, marked with untidy headings and scrawls, some scribbled through entirely. She smiles slightly at the photograph lying nearby, a tall, thin middle aged man with dark sparkling eyes and glasses, holding the hand of a smaller, slightly older looking woman with long curly hair, both laughing brightly. Gently she picks it up, flipping it over to read “Mr. and Mrs. Proops – 1982” in a matching untidy scrawl. “My parents” Greg says, appearing at her shoulder. Jennifer jumps slightly, his tread silent. Proops was his surname then.

“Oh…they look so happy” she says softly, hint of loss in her voice and eyes. Greg nods,

“Yeah, they are.” Greg beams, before looking at her sadly, remembering what she said about her father. Greg instinctively slips his arms around her, cuddling her. “Poor baby” he breathes gently, stroking her hair, but still not demanding a full explanation from her. Jennifer smiles slightly up at him, glad to have someone she doesn’t need to explain her life to, someone with whom she can just …Be. 

 

Greg grazes his knuckles along her jaw line tenderly, making her shiver, locking her eyes with his. Slowly Greg leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, tentative and careful. Jennifer’s eyes flutter closed, butterfly wings batting on her cheeks as she kisses him back. Gradually she slides her arms around his waist as they relax into each other, Greg cupping her cheeks, thumbs brushing her cheekbones lightly as they deepen their kiss, becoming familiar with each other, Greg always keeping a steady and gentle touch. Jennifer pulls back from him, gazing at him silently, her hazel eyes sparkling, drawing him in. Greg smiles softly at her, twisting a tendril of silky hair behind her ear for her. In one smooth movement they draw their lips back together, moving in perfect unison as one, each feeling an identical and undeniable rush neither had experienced before…

 

Jennifer rests her head on Greg’s chest, closing her eyes. Greg smiles softly, playing with a strand of her long hair as they sit cuddled on Greg’s sofa together.

“Jennifer…” he breathes softly in her ear as he presses his fingers up to his mouth, still tingling from their kiss, his lips searing with the brush of Jennifer‘s on his own, almost as if they’d been burnt.

“Mmm…?” she mumbles absently, turning her shining eyes upwards to him. He smiles and presses his mouth to hers again, needing her soft lips like a hit from a joint

“You are so addictive…” he whispers, making Jennifer return his kiss eagerly, rewarding his compliments to her. He pulls back again after a moment, hands grazing her sides. “I really like you Jennifer” Greg admits shyly, watching her face nervously for a reaction. When it comes he doesn’t know why he was so apprehensive to say how he felt, the smile he’s given brighter than anything he’d ever seen, like lighting a candle in an empty room.

“I like you Greg, a lot” she replies as their delighted eyes meet, explaining silently all the emotion they can’t quite own up to yet, too daunting, too grand and overwhelming to be uttered by mere human beings. Saying them would only diminish the sentiment to tacky on par with plastic cupids, fake red roses and shop bought generic love cards. He kisses her tenderly, stroking her sides affectionately, not wanting to ruin it.

“You best get home soon….” he breathes reluctantly between kisses, hands tangled in her hair, “Don’t want you going home… in the dark…” Jennifer nods, pulling away slowly

“Yeah your right.” She stands, and Greg can’t help but admire her figure as her t-shirt rides up when she stretches showing her smooth tanned stomach. Jennifer catches his gaze with a grin, leaning over to kiss him deeply, chuckling as she pulls back and sees his bewildered expression. He jumps up, walking her to the door reluctantly.

“See you soon Jennifer” he says quietly, kissing her one last time, chocolate eyes warm and affectionate towards her, waving as she heads out into the night, seeing the last dying orange embers of the sunset fade into purple night sky overhead.

 

Quickly Greg bounds into his bedroom, head and heart in the clouds, tripping over various boxes as he goes. Greg flops by the dusty old pc, now positive what to write to J - to Jennifer, he quickly begins to type, grin on his face.

 

Jennifer waltzes through her apartment, unable to remember the last time she felt this happy. Tossing down her bag and kicking off her shoes she grabs her paintbrushes and palette and begins to wipe dust off an unused blank canvas, then stops; the dust is part of the story. Quickly and deftly she begins to create her masterpiece, working the canvas into her own tale of reawakening, of the world turning around, of being free again.

 

 

Chapter 8

 

Jennifer yawns, opening her eyes reluctantly, for a moment unable to remember anything - as is tradition with the foggy morning mind. Grace period over the mist lifts and a smile flourishes on her pale features, the usual fact it’s her day off is not the only reason to smile about as she remembers the previous day in its entirety.

“Greg…” she breathes to herself happily, his name tasting sweet on her lips, a new kind of treasure for her. Slowly she shuffles out of bed, duvet tight around her as she pads through her apartment in search of tea and hopefully some sort of food item. On returning, milky tea in a paint speckled hand, she places it down carefully at the edge of her scruffy desk, clicking on a record. The only real way to wake up, Jennifer thinks to herself as she settles down in front of her computer, having not checked her emails in several days. She taps her foot as the drums of The Stooges beat out behind her, Lust For Life an accurate piece for the day, waiting for the machine to start up properly.

 

“Come on, stupid thing” she mutters, sipping her tea with an impatient scowl. Abandoning her plan she jumps up, tossing her duvet back over her bed in a semi-neat manner, wandering around in search of clean clothes. Maybe she could go and see Greg today? Surprise him? Or would that be too needy…? She chews her lip, mulling it over as she clutches her tea between her slender hands, staring blankly at her wardrobe. Hearing a bleep behind her she turns and pales, eyes widening. Her email inbox flashes up with only 1 unread message.

“Oh god…please don’t let it be him…” she breathes softly, setting down her cup and grabbing her duvet again, wrapping herself up protectively inside the spotted quilt as if it possesses calming qualities for her fluttering heart and shaking hands. Slowly she lowers herself into her chair, clicking the unread button, groaning inwardly. She knew it.

“No, no, no,” she sighs, “not now. Why now?” Jennifer jumps up, ignoring it for now, the irritating 1 still blinking at her as she turns her back, resuming trying to pick an outfit. She scowls, feeling the number 1 burn into the back of her, goading her to answer it. She slams down her empty mug, stalking off to the bathroom to shower, growling under her breath.

“Fucking G.E.P. Why did he have to write to me now? Ugh!” she scrubs at her hair, frustrated. He stood her up, and not one word of apology or explanation to follow. Why would he want to speak to her now? And, for that matter, what makes him think that Jennifer, in her right mind, would want to hear what he has to say?! She washes her hair vigorously, irate at the very thought of the email winking at her from her inbox. She stamps back out the shower, roughly towel drying her hair with a squeak of pain, but too angry to stop, still muttering darkly to herself. Wiping away steam from the bathroom mirror with a vicious swipe of her hand, an animal scratching at its prey, she glowers at herself,

“I know exactly what I’ll say to him…” she hisses, grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste, ramming the brush in her mouth, scrubbing with jerking movements as she continues to rabble angrily at her reflection. “I’ll tell ‘im that ‘e ruined every’ing,” she spits out the paste, brandishing her toothbrush, pausing “But…if he hadn’t stood me up…I wouldn’t have Greg…” she says suddenly, all the fury floating out of her like a lead balloon. “Ah fuck.” She sighs, resigning to the fact she cannot shout at him before hearing his reasoning at least. Jennifer scowls, knowing she now must read his email. After all, wouldn’t want to stoop to his level.

 

Wandering back to her bedroom she finally makes a choice of what to wear, sliding on underwear and a baggy off the shoulder grey top and her favourite black leggings. Painting clothes. Hesitantly Jennifer curls herself in her chair, clicking on “Read” with a shaky finger…

 

Darling J,

I haven’t an excuse for my missing out dinner, I can only say that I am so sorry and I hope you had a pleasant evening without me. I do hope you can forgive me, so what I say next is not tainted in any way.

 

I love you. I’ve only known you a short while but to me it is timeless.

 

Please meet me outside the coffee house on 4th at 12 noon. Please?

 

Yours,

G.

 

Jennifer stares at the screen before bursting into tears,

“What the fuck?!” she squeaks though her sobs, slamming her hands onto her old wooden desk, wincing in pain as she catches the side of her hand on the edge of the desk, “Ow…” she mumbles, glancing at her alarm clock. 10. 50 Am. One hour to decide whether to meet him.

 

****

 

Greg paces nervously, feeling restless. His email seemed like the right idea yesterday, but now…what if she doesn’t show up? What if she does?!

“Stupid man, you could’ve just told her” he scoffs at himself. Ah yes, goads his inner voice, but where is the romance, where is the mystery and excitement in that huh? He nods reluctantly, his brain has a point.

 

Greg watches the clock like a hawk; the minute hand is surely slow, it feels like it’s dragging even more than usual. He sighs, trying to write something, anything funny. He needs new material; the crowds will be expecting more of Jennifer’s comedic gold. Greg pushes his glasses onto his forehead, rubbing his eyes before sliding them back to the bridge of his nose, scrambling disjointed praises across his notepad. After a while he pauses, trying to read back the jokes, realizing he has no clue what he has written.

“No use” he scowls, scrunching up the sheet and tossing it in the direction of the trash can, watching it bounce off the rim.

“Don’t pretend like you thought that was going in!” he hears Jennifer’s voice, echoing from the night before and his last failed attempt at paper toss. He snorts with laughter at the memory, rolling his eyes at his own pathetic throwing skills.

“Hey! It was!” he had said, indignant. Jennifer had just smirked and tossed her own napkin square into the can.

“Consider yourself upstaged Proops.” Touché. She is right, he does have shit aim.

 

He swallows suddenly, finding his throat dry, coughing.

“Moron…” he mutters, “what the fuck are you gonna say to her today?! This isn’t like an improv where if you fuck up. You can’t just change the scene. Mike and Forrest aren’t here to save your ass…” Finally unable to stand it any longer he pulls his notepad back towards him, beginning to write.

“Darling Jennifer, I guess I have a lot of explaining to do….”

 

****

 

Jennifer chews her lip, tapping her foot, cigarette balanced between two thin fingers. It isn’t often Jennifer grants herself permission to smoke tobacco, but under the circumstances of an internet stranger telling her they are in love with her; it seems like an appropriate occasion.

 

It had taken her 45 minutes to get from her chair to the spot outside the coffee shop where she is now standing, jittery and tense and eyeing every man who passes her. It had taken the same amount of time to accept the fact she was going to end up here no matter what her mind said, because in her heart Jennifer knows she has to be here. This has to happen, but the reason why is entirely lost on her, even though now she still maintains she is here against her better judgement. 

She had sat, paralysed for 20 minutes, shaking her head.

“I’m not going out there, why go when I don’t feel anything for him. I’ll just email him back, say I have a lovely boyfriend now, I am sorry but I think we should just leave it there and go our separate ways from now.” With that decision firmly in mind Jennifer had risen from her chair, pulling her top back over her head, just to change it, because suddenly she decided she didn’t want to wear it any more. As she picked out a smarter one she shrugged, maybe she wanted to look nice today, doesn’t mean she was going out anywhere. Might as well brush her hair she reasoned, combing it out carefully in the mirror before grabbing her make up bag. So she wanted to put a little colour into her face, so what? Sliding on her heels she grabbed her coat.

“I just need a little air, a little walk and some inspiration.” She said to herself, leaving her apartment. It was only when Jennifer stopped outside the shop itself, lighting her cigarette she realized all along she would end up here.

“Fuck sake…who is it?” she mutters, gazing around with wide eyes, mind flitting through all the possibilities, her heart pounding like hammer on silk inside her chest, sure everyone else in the street can hear it. She dips her head as she watches the amber end of her lit cigarette glow and burn, not even wanting it any more as she admires the pale grey smoke swirl around her.

 

“J…?” Oh god, it’s him. Jennifer’s head snaps up in slow motion, heavy, like pushing through treacle. What feels like an age passes to actually manage to see the man before her, and when she does the half smoked cigarette falls from her slack fingers in shock, ash scattering on the sidewalk as she stands, open mouthed staring silently ahead, mind melding at the sheer unlikely certainty of the situation at hand.

“G-Greg?” she whispers.

 

Jennifer places a hand to her aching head, leaning back on the wall. “Whoa…wait…it’s you? You are G? How…What…Did you plan this?” she glares at him, suddenly suspicious. Greg shakes his head, dark eyes soft and honest.

“No…I was late to our dinner, and when I saw it was you who had binned the rose I knew. I thought you wouldn’t say yes if I owned up to it, so…I didn’t.” Jennifer stares at him, everything fitting together, all his mannerisms, his sayings, even the initials G.P. It was him, all him.

“You love me.” She states. Greg nods. “You love me. You love me!” she repeats, astonished. He nods again, unsure of what to say, his notes proving completely useless after all. “Why the fuck would you love me?” she demands, not sure how to be acting, aggressive seeming a good safe choice for the moment.

“You are unlike any woman I’ve ever met. You’re talented, clever, beautiful…perfect. And when I kissed you I knew, it felt right.” He says softly, stepping a pace closer, worried she might lash out, Jennifer looking just like a startled deer. “And yes, I love you.” He finishes, gazing at her solemnly. Tentatively Jennifer steps forwards, closer to Greg.

“I…I don’t know what to say Greg…” she breathes, her hazel eyes shining, “I wasn’t even going to come, but I somehow ended up here without my own consent. What am I meant to do now?” she asks him, looking up at him apprehensively. Greg slides his arms carefully around her slender waist.

“You look like a lost kitten” he says gently, smiling softly. “Just say what’s in your heart.” And so Jennifer swallows hard, closing her eyes, listening properly to her inner self allowing her heart a say for the first time in years.

“I’m glad it’s you Greg…” she admits, throat dry, “Because I love you.” She replies quietly, “I do, I really love you.”

 

G, Greg lowers his head, pressing his lips to J’s, Jennifer’s. Again the exhilarating rush, better this time because they are free, honest people. In their hearts, even through both will never admit to it, “Load of nonsense” Greg will say, and Jennifer will nod “We found each other on our own” she’ll insist, sometimes there is such a thing as destiny, and on occasion, dreams can come true.