Smash!

•E I G H T•

Jamie's POV

"Jamie, what do you do around here for fun?" The mysterious guy asks, spread out on my couch. His feet hang off the edge of my white Ikea sofa, and one hand clutches a frozen bag of peas to his bruised eye.

Fun? I guess it depends how you define fun.

"Nothing." I shrug from my spot on the floor, "I'm to busy for fun." I answer, my bills spread out across my small coffee table. I chew on my pen anxiously, numbers buzzing around in my head.

"No way." He scoffs. "You're ten years to early for grey hairs, and boredom." He says, sitting up. Glancing up from my expenses I catch the disappointing look he's aiming at me from behind the bag of frozen peas. My hands fly up to inspect my red hair, searching for grey strands. I wouldn't be surprised at all if I had premature greys.

"You're fine." He catches my wrist, his fingers cool against my skin. "Do you really do nothing? Nothing? No TV? No reading? Painting? Knitting? Long walks on the beach? Anything?" He questions. That sounds more like a dating profile than a realistic life.

"I do stuff..." I start, "I work, cook, and clean." I answer. Plus grocery shopping, and balancing my checkbook is time consuming. Frozen peas forgotten his dark eyes stare me down, stare right through me. He sees me. No one sees me, but this complete stranger who tried to mug me sees me.

And it's scary. My head twists away, my heart unsteadily beating in my chest.

"Jamie, you need a life." He states, dropping my hand, and shoving the bag of the peas back onto his bruised eye.

"How exciting is your life?" I ask, seeing the defensive fire light up in his dark eyes. He won't even tell me his name, I know this question just gets him frustrated.

"When I'm not trying to rob bakeries, and corning red heads in allies I'm actually a Hollywood stuntman. Every Wednesday evening I compete in a roller derby league as Blood and Beyond. I like to spend my mornings going to parks, and racing squirrels. Despite my action pack life I'm actuality a softy who likes to binge watch Patrick Swayze movies in a cape." He barks. Gawking up at him silence settles over us like a sheet falling over our heads.

Then I laugh. I laugh a full laugh that leaves me breathless, and warm. It feels spectacular, like a mini adrenaline rush. I haven't laughed in so long, this feels incredible. A snort catches my attention, and even the mysterious stranger is chuckling into his hand. The sight of his toothy grin sends my stomach fluttering, and into another set of giggles.

"Blood and Beyond. That's really clever." I manage between laughs.

"I'm actually a magician who sells out shows in Las Vegas at night, but during the day I own a hipster food truck, and tour Star Trek conventions. Every weekend I sneak into ball pits at kid parties." I sprout. Although that last idea about the ball pit sounds fun. The two of us exchange bright grins that makes my cheeks ache, but feels wonderful all at the same time.

"In five years I'll travel the entire globe on a hot air ballon, and try every taco possible." The guy continues our fun game. The magical idea sounds like music to my ears. I can see it in my mind, flying like a bird to a new place every night with the biggest, brightest smile on our faces. I straighten a little from shock. I included myself in his fantasy. Feeling stupid for tagging along I feel my guard and defensiveness settle back, and I'm not the only one.

The mysterious stranger's smile is nowhere to be seen. Deep in those dark eyes I can see a wishfulness that tires him out, leaving behind a heartbreaking frown. I wonder what he's thinking about. The impossibility of an air ballon traveling across the seven contents? A lack of funds? What is he dealing with that leaves someone looking so broken?

"I like to believe in five years I'll own my own bakery." I admit a secret wish I have only whispered to pennies right before I tossed them into fountains, and no one else. His dark eyes meet mine over the coffee table, and does that thing again. He's seeing me. My skin tingles under his gaze, and sends my heart into a painfully uneven pounding. It almost hurts to be noticed, but it seriously hurts when they make you think you're noticed, then remind you that you don't matter.

"I like to believe that I'll get out of this nowhere shit hole of a city." He says lowly.

"I like to think that too." I admit, my heart racing. I feel like a complete moron for saying my dreams out loud, like I'm in that nightmare where I take a test naked, and fail. "I like to believe that the world will be a nicer place one day soon." I admit. This isn't my nightmares, and he isn't judging me.

"I like to think that too." He agrees, making my stomach do flips."I like to pretend I'll be loved." He says under his breath. Feeling like I've been punched in the face I try to keep the shock off my face. That sentence alone answers a dozen question about him, and leave me asking hundreds more. I want to know who broke his heart, and why.

"I like to think I'll be happy one day." I admit in a hushed tone. He opens his mouth to say something, something I needed to hear, but he's cut off by a shrill ring. Whatever this bonding experience was, its over. We're strangers again. He's a robber who won't tell me his name, and I'm just a nobody who lives on the top floor in a run down building. The real world is calling our attention.

"What?" He snarls into his cracked phone. An obnoxiously loud accent yells out of the phone. He's stiff as a board, he looks annoyed and miserable. Who ever he's talking to sounds like they're ruining his life.

"I'm on my way now, Nate." He mutters, his voice tight and fake. It's that Nate guy again. How late is it if he's getting those mysterious calls? I catch a bright two and eleven flash on his phone as he hangs up, and swallow down a small gasp. It's already two in the morning! How long have we been talking?

"Was that Brad Pitt needing a stunt double?" I try a joke, despite feeling disappointed.

"Late night roller derby match actually." He jokes, but his voice flat and tired. I try a smile, but my lips won't move from my heavy frown. He's leaving to do gods knows what. I can only imagine the worse.

"Stop with those puppy dog eyes." He sighs, getting to his feet. I can't just cease my worrying, so I redirect my sad green eyes to the floor.

"You're not going to tell me why you're always running out in the middle of the night, are you?" I ask.

"You don't need to know." He grunts, beelining for the door. That doesn't settle my nerves, it just worsens my worries.

"Be careful." I say.

"Don't tell me what to do." He says half heartedly, leaving me alone with my bills, and worries.