Julian pulls open the packet of Fritos. I watch him curiously as he slowly tears the bag down the middle. Carefully he lays the now open bag flat on the floor.
"Clever," I comment.
He grins popping a chip in his mouth. I reach over and grab one. I'm seated cross legged in front of him, next to the window where I can hear the noise of the streets of New York. Here I am, on my first night in one of the greatest cities in the world, sitting in an apartment with zero possessions and eating Fritos.
What a great start, Sarah. Really, really wonderful. You go girl, the world is yours!
I smack away my sarcastic sub-conscience.
"I will marry a Fritos chip one day," Julian says suddenly.
"Is that so?"
"Yes." I watch as he stares lovingly at the chip in his hand before turning to me. "Wouldn't you?"
"Not my type. I prefer clean cut Lays."
"Oh so this is a race thing?" he looks offended.
It takes me a second to catch his joke. "I have nothing against barbecue alright. Lightly salted just turns me on."
We cackle like two hyenas at our metaphor.
"Why New York?"
I look at him and give him the same answer I gave my mother. "It's a fresh start and an escape."
"An escape? What are you? An ex-assassin?"
I roll my eyes. "Do I look like an assassin to you?"
"Looks can be deceiving," he points out.
"Well anyway no. I don't know, a lot happened last year and I just needed to clear my head, I guess," I shrug, biting into another chip.
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen," I reply, "You?"
"Twenty."
"How about you?" I ask and he looks at me confused before catching on.
"Oh. Well, I've just always wanted to live here. Anywhere in America really. So I packed up and left," he replies nonchalantly.
It sounds like it was so easy for him. "What did your parents think?"
His hand hovers over the last bit of Fritos left for a second, before he picks one but doesn't actually eat it. I smack myself internally.
"Sorry, I- You don't have to tell me," I apologize awkwardly.
"No, it's fine. I, uh, I don't have parents," he picks up the chip and nibbles at it. He looks at me cautiously.
"Oh."
I look away, an awkward silence descends. So he's an orphan. Or he was adopted. His parents have probably passed away. Or maybe he's lying. My imagination runs away with me.
"So. Do you know where you're going to find a job yet?" Julian asks, eating the last chip when I pass it up.
"I'm going to try looking for sales positions. Like a shop assistant or something. I did a one year course in management so hopefully it's enough," I answer him. I then remember that the only printed copy of my curriculum vitae was in my suitcase. Well, I hope whatever place I go to is fine reading my CV off of my phone.
He nods with interest. "I'm quite good with cars. I don't know. Maybe I'll find something to do with mechanics."
"It would be fantastic if you could get a job as a taxi driver," I joke.
YOU ARE READING
Questions (Julian Jordan Fanfiction)
Fanfiction"If this were a novel, it would be extremely predictable," he notes, twiddling his thumbs. I raise my eyebrows, confused. "How so?" "Two people in America, both Dutch, coincidentally both of these attractive people of the opposite sex are living i...
