Smash!

•F O U R•

Jamie's POV

I'm covered in frosting, and sprinkles. Every step I take up to the top floor of my apartment building leaves behind a trail of flour like I'm a ghost from Scooby Doo. I can't help the tired sigh that deflates my sore body when I reach the top step of the many, many flights of stairs. Each step is worse than usual after a long time shift at the bakery.

The cool metal of my keys feels good against my aching fingers as I twist them in the lock, only for it to dully yield in the deadlock. It's unlocked? My heart lurches into a panicked rhythm, paranoia taking over my mind. I never forget to lock my door, never. I reel away from the door, someone broke in! Breaking out into a cold sweat I fight not to make a sound, and alert the intruder I'm right on the other side of the door.

Holy crap!

The most logical thing to do is to call the cops, but I can't afford a cell phone on my tips from the bakery alone. With shaking hands, I pull out my wallet, digging through it for quarters to use on the payphone by the bus stop. Every cent I have flies out of my shaking hands and clatters sharply against the floor. The door swings open with an ear ringing creak, and out pops a head of dark hair and a bruised eye.

"It's just you." I breathe, my shaking hands clutching my chest in a effort to cease my anxious, pounding heart. The mysterious mugger from last night rolls his brown eyes and scoffs.

"What? Expecting Zac Efron?" He sarcastically growls.

"No," I start, dropping to my knees to gather up the change. "I thought someone broke in." I finish. "And Efron is kinda of overrated in my opinion." I add, straightening up.

"I did. I had to pick the lock since you locked me out." He explains. My mouth opens to protest, but it shuts when I have to much to say. He just stormed out in the middle of the night, what does he mean I locked him out? I didn't invite him back. I didn't even get to say goodbye to him when he just up and left last night.

"You look like a donut mugged you." He points out with an amused note in his voice.
Ironic coming from him since just last night he cornered me, and try to rob me.

"I finished my shift at the bakery." I say, as I pass him to get into my small studio apartment. I silently debate if I should kick him out. It's the most logical thing to do, but my heart clenches up in my chest at the idea.

"Why did you try to rob it last night?" I ask him, looking up into his angry dark eyes. His hands curls up into tight fists, and his face knots up into a fuming look.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to." He growls.

"I do want to know." I don't give up. He glares me down, but I don't cower. Instead, I match his glare with a simple look, no malice or spite in my green eyes.

"Why do you think?" He hisses lowly. He's fuming.

"I don't know you. So, I don't know why you tried to rob me in a dark alley." I insist.

"What? Do you think I'm a gold hearted guy down on his luck or some bullshit? No, I'm not a good guy. I was going to take your wallet, and all the damn money in the register. Even the tip jar. At any means necessary."

"Why didn't you?" I ask. No, that can't be it. I saw it in his eyes last night, I know there is more here. I know it.

"Because you pepper sprayed me!" He barks.

"Then why did you come back?" I ask, my voice soft and yielding. Kicking myself silently, I try to find the strength to keep my voice steady. He looks taken off guard, like I unexpectedly kicked him in the shins. It's a good question. If I was really just a mugging gone wrong, then why did he come all the way back to a crappy apartment on the top floor in a run down building? I'm just an ordinary girl with no social life. Why did he come back?

"Because I need a place to crash." The mask of anger is back in place, and glaring me down. I stare back at him, my heart pounding in my ears for a long minute.

"You broke in to sleep here?" I ask.

"And for the shitty water pressure, and crappy food." He adds, stuffing his hands into his pockets. That's it. He accidentally gave me the answer. He's homeless isn't he? That's why he was going to mug me, and rob the bakery. He needs money, he needs shelter, he needs a friend.

"... This is probably a bad idea... Just for one more night." I give in. That mask of anger gives way, all that's left in its wake is a bright look in his eyes, and the smallest, tinniest grin he tries to hide. He's relieved, he'll die before he admits it, but he's happy he can stay.

I walk off into the bathroom eager to wash off the flour and overwhelming feelings.

"Jaime." He calls out, catching me before I disappear into the bathroom. "You're right." He states.

"Right about what?" I ask, my face scrunching up in curiosity. He stares me, stares me like this is the last time he'll see me.

"This is a bad idea." He elaborates. "A really bad idea." He adds solemnly. His words strike through me, nearly shaking me up. I know what cliche line comes next; am I going to regret this bad decision? But I don't ask it, and he doesn't say it, but it hangs between us.

"Okay." I just nod, because there's not insurance for regret.