The Ripper's Broken Heart

Chapter 2: Checkered Hair And Mad Stress-Surfing

I brought the warm mug of tea to my lips, savoring the taste of the sweet honey the barista had drizzled inside, while Jay looked as though he wanted to murder. I don't blame him.

When I had told him Levi and I's story, he went berserk- fuming and shouting rampaging orders at the baristas. One of them quit, throwing the tray she was holding on the floor, and I watched the mugs shatter. It was a shame: they were marvelous.

"Jay," I whispered soothingly, pressing my hand onto his and he visibly relaxed. "Don't worry about it. I dumped him, and he's long gone. And you brought me for coffee, not to watch you scare the poor employees."

Jay sighed. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I just can't figure out why he would put your life in danger. You wouldn't hurt a fly!"

I gave him a look. "I threatened to hang you."

He winced. "Okay, so maybe, but that still doesn't explain anything." He hesitated, drilling his eyes into mine. Oh gosh, they were beautiful, now that I can actually see them in the light- and, uh, when he wasn't furious. "I want to get to know you."

My heart warmed, and I couldn't breathe. Scratch that, I can breathe, but I forgot how. I gave him a genuine smile- one that I hadn't given anyone in the past year. "I want to get to know you, too."

He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his cup of warm milk and cinnamon. "Have you ever tried milk with cinnamon?"

I shook my head.

"You should try it sometime. It's even better with a drop of honey," he told me. Of course I'll try it. He suggested it, didn't he?

He wanted to get to know me. I had to impress him.

I eyed his clothing, my eyes landing first on his leather jacket. It suits him, really, but it makes him look like a skater. Is he a skater? Shit, he's a skater.

I dropped my gaze to my dress, quickly looking back at his jacket. I look like a frilly princess compared to him. He won't like this.

"So," he started. "Is your hair always in a ponytail?"

Think skater. "No," I said nervously, chuckling slowly. "I have blonde hair actually. With checkered pink dye! And I always let it down."

He seemed surprised- is that good or bad? "Your hair is brown."

I'm so stupid. Okay, calm down and think. "Well-" I paused for a second. "I'm wearing a wig!"

"You are?"

I nodded, gaining a little more confidence than I had begun with. "Of course! What kind of girl.. Doesn't wear a wig?"

I mentally slapped myself. What was I thinking?

He nodded. "Okay," he said, drawing out the word. "Uh, this is my natural hair color, and I don't wear a wig. I surf, you?"

He surfs. "Me too!" Lie.

"Really?" He seemed excited, so I figured I must be doing something right.

"Yeah!"

He grinned. "That's great! I always surf in the early morning. Around six. There are a lot of Swedish and German people there, too. I've always wanted to learn those languages. The people I surf with teach me. What about you? Do you speak anything besides English?"

"Funny you say that, because I speak Swedish and German, too! Also Italian."

"Man," he murmured. "You're beautiful and smart. And you surf! Speaking of which, you should go surfing with me tomorrow. Afterwards, we can go for coffee, and you can teach me Swedish!"