Just Another Crazy Coincidence

Chapter 04:

As Natasha wipes down the last table in the dark bar, her eyes flicker up to the old clock on the wall. It is just after ten - she was supposed to out of work at nine, but of course she is not. Randoll has left her to lock up. Since there is no one left in the bar, she has locked the door, and most of her work was finished an hour ago, it was just waiting for the low lifes to get out that stopped her going home. She is able to leave the depressing place behind within the next fifteen minutes, but she has still been there for far too long and as always it has taken it’s toll.

Throughout the night, each time Natasha heard the door open, she had found her gaze snapping to the space to see who walked through. She didn’t really know what it was that she was looking for, but whatever it was, never came. Now that the end of the night has finally arrived she finds herself disappointed that it will not come at all.

Because Randoll has made her stay later than expected, Natasha misses the last bus that will take her home, unless she waits for an extra hour. It’s cold outside, and in her small skirt and think top, Natasha would much rather be moving than loitering in the cold at the bus stop. She is a sitting duck there, and there is no winning. So wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she turns her gaze to the footpath and begins her trek home. The streets are dark, and the lights above are doing a half-hearted job of illuminating the way. Natasha isn’t halfway home and has only been walking for ten minutes or so when the rain begins to fall down on her from above. She does not even flinch when the heavy icy drops hit her skin; of course it would rain, things can always get worse, and they always do.

As the rain gets heavier, Natasha picks up her pace until she is jogging. When she is a block from the apartments, she crosses the road. It’s her own fault really, she should have looked before she began moving across the tarmac, but she isn’t thinking and she is in the middle of the road when she looks up and see’s the headlights. There is enough time for her to rush out of the way, but had she been moving any slower, or had the lights not caught her eye, then that probably would have been the end of it for her. If she were anyone else, Natasha might have stopped once she was off the road and fallen over to regain herself. She should have been frightened, at least slightly shaken by the fact that she was only a second away from being hit by a car - yet she doesn’t even think of it again as she continues on her way.

Her hands are shaking and numb as she digs into her soaking bag to find her key. She pushes through the foyer doors, they don’t get locked until 11.30. Her room key is clasped tight in her hand as she stumbles out of the elevator and down the hall to her apartment. The first thing she does when she steps into the empty space is remove her wet clothes. Natasha can’t really afford to get sick, and so she does everything that she can to prevent it. She pulls on dry clothes and wraps her thin sheets around herself. She is too tired to do much but fall onto her dirty mattress and curl up in a ball. Unfortunately she has to put it off. Natasha ties the corners of her sheet together so she can move without losing warmth. She hangs her wet clothes on a string that goes across one wall in front of the rooms window hoping that tomorrow they will be wearable and not smell slightly mouldy. When she is done she sits on the floor, she could shower before bed, but the water will only be cold and she has just run through the rain so the effect is basically the same. The only other thing Natasha needs to do with herself before calling it a night is  eat something, but her supplies are running low and she has no appetite; what she has is best saved for another day.

When she collapses into her bed and let’s herself relax, a moment creeps to mind; one from the day before. The boy who slid into the bar stool, the boy with the burning curiosity, they boy with the sparkling blue eyes, the boy with the questions.

When Jacob’s fingers encase her hand, she tenses for the briefest of moments before a warm sensation spreads through her limbs.

“Do you like this?” He asks her, curiosity burning in his eyes and voice.