Chapter Text
The following double was scheduled for a week later. Silver linings, she should think, given that couple more doctors were gently ushered towards that. Physically speaking, Samira could totally use the rest. Hot weather was using her to redefine the concept of low blood pressure, and after getting dizzy mid-resuscitation, she decided to actually cook consistently.
Mentally speaking, though, she was restless. 12 hours off for someone who manages 5 hours of sleep at best means having a lot of time to think. And a significant portion of this reflection went back to Jack Abbot weirdly a lot. And it wasn’t easy to ignore, not since she picked up journaling and his name appeared on paper that many times. It was the adult version of the secret diaries she kept when she was young, a lifetime or two ago; when her father was still alive and she could to a really good job transposing pre-teen feelings on paper. Then her shoulders had to carry the weight of those emotions, she couldn’t stand her rage, her grief, her pain and her loss staring back at her from those pages. So, when she went to Jersey she found them hidden in a box, in her closet. She picked up the first, from when she was 12, smiling at how naïve her little self was. How major inconveniences were, in fact, the neighbour’s kid picking at her at school. She went through 4 pages before it became overwhelmingly obvious that she didn’t recognise herself in her pre-teen self. Part of it was, of course, natural. But there’s nothing natural about losing a (so she thought) healthy father that young. Or hearing her mother’s crying herself to sleep and not having the strength to be a functional adult. There was nothing natural in being that 15 years old that instead of saving up for prom dress, took a cleaning job to make ends meet. There was nothing natural in a 13 years old girl swearing to herself that she would do anything to prevent something like that happening to her father, that she wouldn’t let any other girl close her eyes at night to see her father’s hand caressing her cheek before dropping dead to the side of the bed.
It felt a little wrong, in terms of narration, to let there be a painless happily ever after. She finally felt the need to read about an updated version of herself. In a way that she could come back and understand what lead her to feel or see things in a determined way.
And so she started from that Wednesday night in Jersey, writing what she was grateful for. And among the ‘grateful for the 13years of happiness I got here’; ‘grateful for a roof overt my head’ and ‘grateful for all the memories’, at one point the pen wrote about how Jack Abbot’s texts enhanced that shift she was ready but not brave enough to embrace. And then Thursday.
And then on Thursday and Friday she was, among other things, ‘grateful for Cassie’s attempts at female friendship’ and ‘ grateful for Baran supporting my way of dealing with patients’ and also - ‘grateful for Pittsburgh who welcomed her even though she fought against it’ ‘grateful for whoever invented red velvet croissants’, she was also ‘grateful to be able to invest her trust on Jack Abbot with so little effort’.
And then it was things like ‘breakfast was good. Would’ve sacrificed a little more sleep to keep going’. ‘Jack trusted me with handling handoff. He said I should start to be in charge of these kinds of tasks more’.
When she went to write the night before, she quickly scanned the pages, to admire how consistent she was being in this activity. What she noticed, though, was how much Jack was impacting her life in every aspect. At work, at home, with herself. It was never pushy, but it was present in a way that gave her the support she needed to embrace all these changes. She also noticed, to her dismay, that it was sort of one-sided. She knows bits and pieces of him, knows his methods at work, his unconventional solution to medical problems; she knows he dropped his EMS gig and took up working on his backyard cause, apparently, her influence was enough to make him do so. She knows he enjoys Thai food but he’s not a big fan of Chinese. His guilty pleasure is pineapple pizza, or pizza in general, but he prefers to let others have it when there’s not enough slices left. She knows he goes to therapy cause he mentioned it to give her a funny explanation to that fucking bullet. So, of theoretical footing, she knows Jack Abbot. Anything deeper than that, however, seemed very out of reach.
How does he cope with his PTSD at home? He looks really put together, but is he, really? Is his mind filled with memories of walking with two legs and holding his wife’s hand? What’s in his mind other than that? What’s in his heart other than that?
If she had to guess, she would say first of all Affection, Surely for Robby and Dana, and for her also. And for Parker and Shen, of course, although he would rather die than admit it. Compassion and empathy, especially with patients. Deep care for those who are around him, to the point of sacrificing his time, his energy and – as he proved to her- his Money, to make the lives of the people around him easier.
In a way, they were very similar. Except, she never had the status, the money, or the village to really practice those actions.
Finally, it made her equally contempt and furious. She considers Jack Abbot the person to whom she’s the closest. On the other hand, she didn’t like that the trust she so easily poured into this relationship was not reciprocated. His gestures and words made her slip blindly into this, and her blindness prevented her to see that he was everywhere in her life while she was, at best, on one side.
She refused to become frustrated over something she was so grateful for, but the feeling in her chest didn’t completely subside. Never mind that she exposed herself to him so much that he would pick up any minor sign of discomfort. So, she got ready and headed to the hospital, secretly engaging in a battle. She would observe, and she would get to know him. Whether he wants it or not.
Reality is a different beast. An MVA at 6PM required her attention for two hours, and then wrapping up, cleaning up, charting, talking to the police, talking to families. It was 9:30 when she could breathe. Day shift left with a couple of good lucks thrown in the crowd, answered by furrowed brows and pleads of ‘don’t jinx it’-.
He approached the station to survey the situation of the ED, assessing. His back was to her, but she somehow acquired his laser stare cause he mumbled
“You could’ve slipped out with the rest of day shift, We would’ve understood after the carnage” he said
“Tempting, but no. It’s Friday and my upstairs neighbors have their scheduled fight” Samira said
“What?” He chuckled
“On Fridays, my upstairs neighbor welcomes his girlfriend. From what I could make, and it’s unfortunately a lot, she comes in enraged and jealous.” She explained. It wasn’t a lie, she hates them
“Free show every Friday, lucky you” he quipped
“Yeah, they fight a couple of hours then have… you know… sex.” She shivered in disgust- “I can hear their p…. Never mind, I grossed myself out” she said getting up and he laughed.
“You could’ve gone out. I heard Santos and Whitaker gathering people to Connor’s” he insisted
“I wouldn’t have been in the mood” she admitted, then she looked at him and understood she was -again- talking about herself, and he was the one leading her to her court.
“How about you?” She blurted out
“Ah this place needed some fresh force to get through the night” he said, in mock resignation
She logged off the system and got up “I’ll see if I can help clear up triage a bit”
“Mohan…” he called and she stopped “If you want to get some shut eye”
“You already know the answer to that, Abbot” She said without turning her back to look at him
1am brought too many drunken injuries. Some local tournament where one beer lead to another, and another, and another, in an effort to cool the bodies and loosen up.
10 patients arrived at the same time, and any possible chance of sitting down or a power nap were postponed indefinitely.
At 2:45, Samira looked at the board, then glanced at chairs, and understood that any chance at resting was now or never. Every patient was being either discharged or admitted, and so she sprinted to the door to the stairs.
She looked for a place quiet enough and, once she found it, she slid to the floor, limbs loose and back to the wall in an effort to touch the cool surface as much as possible.
“You’re here” he said after a while, coming down from the stairs.
“You too” she said, matching his obvious remark
“I take it Parker’s got it covered?” He asked. It was pretty rhetorical, he knew Samira would never leave the department if she was needed. She nodded, nonetheless.
He slid beside her with a little groan and a click of his prosthetic.
“How long are you advised to take it off?” She asked, waving at his missing calf
“Will you rat me out to my doctor?” He said, jokingly
“No, it’s all for my knowledge of you” She admitted, nonchalantly
“12-14 hours” he said, massaging his thigh – “And what else are you archiving about me?”
“Very little” she said and looked at him
“You know plenty about me” he said
“I know some” she said - “Not nearly as much as you know my shit anyway”
“Most people would consider themselves lucky for that” HE said, refusing to look at her
“Most people don’t have you as the closest person in their life” she said, turning her gaze ahead just as his head snapped to look at her – “and, if only for that, I wouldn’t define them lucky”
What the fuck possessed her to have this heart to heart conversation in the stairwell of the hospital in the middle of the night, she doesn’t know. What she needed to say it and he needed to hear it.
“I have quite the contenders. Parker was buying tickets to a concert?” He said, not giving in
“Yeah, I’m putting up a little village.” She said, chuckling- “And I know waaay to much about Ellis anyway”
He reflected for a second “What do you want to know and why”
“I don’t know the whats, but I know the why” she said, and he bumped his shoulder into hers to keep her going
“Not being used to let people in means I’m not used to be let in either. It’s not about giving back to you. But I came to trust you in a way that…that I don’t even know how I could reach. And trusting is the single most difficult thing to achieve for me.” She admitted
“Samira…”
“I guess I’d like to have you putting the same trust on me? Of course you don’t have to, man in my mind it made a lot more sense” - she laughed bitterly – “I don’t want to pressure you. I just want you to know that I’m here, for you. It doesn’t have to be a big problem, it just has to be whatever you feel like sharing.”
“I know, Samira”. He looked at her and prompted her to look at him- “I Know.”
“I’m sorry if this came out of nowhere” she continued “But I needed you to know. I’m so fucking grateful for you in life, I’m not sure how I would’ve cope with all that otherwise”
“You would have nonetheless cause you’re a fucking force of nature, Samira. Never doubt it. But I’m glad I’m able to witness you becoming, you know, you.” He said, his gaze so deep and so earnest Samira saw inside of him for the firsts time, and what she saw was something that neither of them could, or would, identify yet.
Their pagers went off.
“So, how about a breakfast burrito?” She said after handoff
“How about it?” He answered
“Hear me out” she said, as she didn’t perfectly know she had his undivided attention “I’ll offer breakfast as a peace offering”
“When did we fight?” He asked, confused
“We didn’t. But I have to ask your forgiveness for kidnapping you into my train of thoughts earlier and…”
“Samira…” he said
“And I have to make amends for leaving you dealing with Whitaker and Santos sibling-fighting on the day of the concert, which is also the same night John Shen will be back from his holiday” she said sheepishly
“You’re kidding me” he said groaning
“I’m not. But don’t worry, I’ll keep my phone with me so you can vent to me about them all” she said
They went to the restaurant in front of Connor’s, only this time he went by car and she followed on foot to call her mother before her flight to Florida to embark in her cruise. The talk was mostly meaningless, Samira recommending using sunscreen and making sure her mother got her medication.
“Samira… thank you for understanding” her mother said before hanging up
“I’ll wait for those fridge magnets” Samira answered, trying not to show her voice breaking “Maybe by the time you’ll give them to me I’m going to have a proper kitchen!”
“I hope you will, Samira”
“Have a good flight”
“Thank you”
She didn’t turn the corner before wiping the one tear that disobeyed her will and escaped her eye, cause she knew, - or at least she knows that much, he would not go inside without waiting for her. He was by the door, listening to a voice message with his phone in his ear, loud enough for her to recognise Baran’s voice.
“Everything ok?” She asked
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah” he didn’t articulate and so didn’t she
They went inside the restaurant and, from what she could see, the waiter was clearly onto something
“Excuse me, do you work at PTMC, right?” She asked
“Yeah, we do.” Jack answered
“Sorry I didn’t connect the dots last time, we’ve got 20% discount for Healthcare workers, apparently some of you guys saved my Boss’ ass.” She said
“You don’t have t” Samira started
“No, I insist! And to make up for last time coffee’s on the house” She said before picking up their orders
“Lucky day to be the one to invite breakfast” she said
“Not a chance Mohan!”
“Look, Connor’s hosting a mid-summer party” Samira said, with enough enthusiasm to surprise herself
“Yeah, most people from de Pitt are going, or so Baran told me” He said, shrugging
“Are you?” She asked, her enthusiasm watering down
“I’ll most likely be on shift” he said
“It’s Wednesday” Samira said, referring to the fact that he was usually off
“Yeah, I’ll probably offer to cover for someone” he said
The waiter brought their plates
“Your mother boarded?” He said, still unsatisfied from her earlier dismissal, especially after he noticed her eyes glistening
“Yeah, by the time she gets to Florida I’ll be asleep” – she explained begrudgingly –“She’ll text me before the cruise leaves the port. Still had some shopping to do”
“How are you feeling?” He asked, concerned
“I’m fine. Thank you” the last part referring to the waiter who brought the coffees
“Samira…”
“ I’m hungry” she dismissed him
It’s not like she didn’t want to talk about it. But she couldn’t figure out how to make him open up a little bit. He did it so easily it was automatic. Like when he used to ask her about symptoms and differential diagnosis and she had all the answers. It wasn’t working the other way around. He knew her, that much.
“I’m much better at listening” he admitted
“What?” She said, genuinely confused
“I talk a lot with my therapist. Cause I’m forced to not cause I want to. So outside of his office I do much better at listening to other people’s thoughts” he explained
“That I know” Samira said- “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you owe me your thoughts”
“You didn’t” he said
“I did. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know… You’re willingly sharing my burden, I feel like I’m not important to you the same way…”
His eyes widened
“Shit that didn’t come out right. Please hear me out. What I mean is… you are a fundamental part of my life.” — she said nonchalantly while his eyes widened — “It’s crazy, you’re kinda everywhere in my life, at work, at home. And you have no idea of how much your presence kept me from spiralling, all along the residency and even more in the past month. I just feel like I’m not…”
“ Returning the favour?” He asked
“Don’t put it like that, Jack” She said, defensively.- “I’m not being a good presence by your side cause I have no idea of what your thoughts are, I guess”
“There’s very little thinking process on my part”—- he sighed — “But the fact that you are here, and you come have breakfast with me, Samira. Believe me when I say I’m grateful for having you in my life this way”
She smiled quietly and went back to eat her breakfast, but with her free hand she reached for his. Not condescending, she would never do him the disservice, but understanding.
There was little to nothing left to say. There was some to think.
She didn’t want to force him into anything, but at the same time she craved for more. In a way that was frankly disquieting, but also in a way that she felt like she would know every little fucking detail and she would not get tired of learning.
She actually managed to pay because ApplePay on her phone allowed her to be quicker, and the only thing that eased his mind was that they got a discount and free coffee, so she wasn’t paying full price. Nevertheless, he insisted on giving her a ride home as a way to made up for it, and she accepted faking dramatically to be only humouring him.
They got in front of the building in silence, Samira actively fighting to stay awake and Jack pensively looking at the road. He parked the car and went to wake her up, convinced she’d already dozed off, but she was still – barely – awake-.
She opened the door and before going out she leaned his way, giving him a peck on the cheek
“Goodnight Jack” and hopped off. She went inside and the only rational thought of the last 10 minutes commanded to take the stairs. She robotically placed her scrubs in the laundry basket and headed to the shower, hitting her bed in just her panties and sports bra.
He stayed transfixed on her building’s door with his hands deathly gripping the wheel, until a car behind him honked. He turned the radio as high as he could bear to muffle the noise in his head, and the A/C on, in hopes to extinguish the burning sensation in his right cheek.
Four hours. Four fucking hours until the window of her bedroom started filtering the fucking midday sun, making the temperature close to the inside of a volcano and the light too bright to continue sleeping. With a groan and a refusal to open her eyes completely, Samira got up and headed to the living room with her pillow. She unrolled her yoga mat on the floor and tried to find a position comfortable enough, possibly with her limbs touching the cold surface of the floor. Sleep was trying to evade her, so Samira started to think about nice things that could help her relax enough to doze off. So the pastries Baran brought two days prior; the walk in the park with Ellis before she heads to work in the evening, breakfast with Jack -again.
The fuck.
She didn’t do it, did she?
Fucking weirdo
She had actually dozed off in the car and dreamed it
Yeah that’s entirely possible.
Samira’s eyes shot open and she got up in a rush, sleep pushed to the furthest corner of her mind. She went to get coffee, in hopes that the caffeine would give her enough clarity to understand if she, in fact, did it or not.
The answer, much to Samira’s dismay, was that she did kiss Jack Abbot on the cheek without a second thought.
She took out her journal, in a desperate attempt to justify what she did, and coherent words evaded her completely. She wasn’t even one of those people who rely on physical displays of affection, so what came to her mind was a mystery. She remembers staying awake during the ride home, although the music and his presence and his steadying driving completely relaxed her. And so when she actually had to hop out her body moved before her mind; or maybe the other way around. Facts are, that the part of her that was still riding on that complete bliss leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek.
And now she had to be embarrassed in front of the only person who doesn’t make her shy away. And that’s without even considering how he must perceive the situation.
Fuck.
She had to think. Quick. Her priority became almost immediately to safeguard their relationship. The best and the worst of it all? She had the day off and would be drowning in her overthinking for other 18 more hours.
At -13 hours she met with Parker for their power walk. Parker hated it but Samira was in no shape to take up anything stronger, so Parker self appointed as Samira’s Personal trainer. The only rule was no talking about work, which was good for Samira. At least usually. Today, any topic seemed really uninteresting, and she was being close to rude. But she couldn’t talk to Parker about the whole ordeal: first of all, Parker worked nights. And she would tease Jack endlessly. Second, she would laugh in her face. Third, she would make a dramatic oath of silence, treating it like a juicy gossip. She would not put herself, let alone Jack, in that situation. Even though Parker was indeed one of the most discreet people in the department.
They went home with a little complaint about the company from Parker, which was to be expected, and a promise from Samira to be a little more focused.
As Samira foretold, the wait until handoff was spent with increasing overthinking and crippling anxiety. She didn’t even consider the actual reality. He was completely, unnervingly, normal. His usual self. Jack Abbot in full swing. To the point that Samira almost convinced herself that she did, in fact, dreamt the whole thing. At least during the 15 minutes of handoff, before he all but sprinted out of the Pitt, instead of delaying his departure as usual.
So, all-in-all, Samira took that as a success and a sign that whatever it was could be easily archived. Her mood improved drastically throughout the shift, her pace quickened significantly and the next 12 hours passed in a blur.
Then, he came back for his night shift, freshly shaved and smelling like something familiar, heading to the break room to start the coffee machine. She immediately took the opportunity to make contact
“Did you use the after sun I recommended?” She asked and he almost jumped, surprised
“I… Yeah, Dr Mohan, you’re the one who did a dermatology rotation” he said, giving her credit
“Any more sunburnt?” She inquired
“No, luckily. I haven’t been able to work yesterday, and today was kinda cloudy” he said
“Was it? I haven’t been able to go outside” she said
“Yeah, used SPF anyway. Dermatologist’s order” he answered
“I’m hardly a dermatologist. After today? I think of myself as a urologist” she said, jokingly
“Do I want to know?” He said, pained to think about that kind of injuries
“I can only tell you I’ve been this close to fetch Dr Shen from his slumber and frag his ass here”
“That’s bad” he chuckled
“We…” she said, looking outside “We should head to handoff”
“Yeah we should” he agreed, pouring a cup of coffee
They started to walk towards the station, and Baran immediately beelined for him, head of day shift to head of night shift. She joined Parker and Shen and didn’t see him again for the rest of handoff. She gathered her belongings from her locker and headed out, passing from chairs, to a dark and breezy night.
“I must tell you I’m a little disappointed” Jack materialised leaning over the wall and she froze on the spot for a moment before turning to look at him
“About what?” She answered
“You see, Mohan. I was kinda expecting you to kiss me goodbye again” he said, cockily.
Her eyes widened, and he turned serious “I’m joking Samira. I just… if I know you, I think you’ve spiraled a bit over it. So I wanted to tell you I’m ok if you are”
Was she? Obviously not, and her brain shortcut cause she couldn’t form a coherent thought.
“I… I mean… I’m ok. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable” she finally managed to say
“You didn’t” he confirmed
“Good.” She said, before Lena peeked from the door to announce that they were expecting a GSW in 10 minutes and then went back inside complaining about the humidity outside.
“Goodnight” he said, stretching his arms before taking a deep breath and heading outside. She looked around scanning their surroundings.
He hadn’t even made a step when He felt her hand on his shoulder and turned. She pecked his cheek again, only this time deliberate, intentional, and most of all awake.
“Goodnight Jack” and smiled before pulling away. He held her hand on his shoulder and looked at her with an intensity that made her wonder if she’d been too forward.
Instead, he used her hand to get her closer and returned the peck on her cheek.
“Goodnight Samira” he said.
Samira didn’t expect this kind of reaction from him. He was ok the first time she did it, and that was the only invitation she needed to do it all over again. She felt the urge to repeat it, as if to reinforce the fact that half asleep or wide awake, she felt like doing it.
The way he held her hand, though, and then. He wasn’t returning the gesture; he was conveying the same message. It was still a little cryptic on both parts, but getting clearer day by day. At least for the part that says they’re healing themselves, together. The part in which they’re getting comfortable with each other to the point of being platonically intimate. To the point they were starting to realise the impact in each other’s lives is getting permanent, to the point of becoming inextricably linked.
“Trinity!!!” Samira exclaimed, still planted on the spot
“Yeah” Santos said, tiredly
“Fancy a drink?” Samira asked
“No. But I’ll go, nonetheless. Doesn’t happen everyday that Samira Mohan asks me out for a drink” she said.
They didn’t stay long, both too tired and with no intention of getting smashed, but it was a welcomed distraction for Samira, who could postpone her overanalyzing for a couple of hours.
For Jack, the distraction came from the endless stream of emergencies that characterized the entire shift. The few moments he had free, he realized after a while, he spent chasing the giddy feeling of giving her that peck on the cheek. It was impulsive, he knew that, but the deliberateness of her actions gave him the will to do it. And her pleasantly surprised face dissipated any residual doubts.
Over the next few days, handoffs were a blur and there was very little time for interaction, other than differentials and treatment planning. On Wednesday evening, however, things shifted a bit. Jack Abbot did not, in fact, found anyone to cover and was basically dragged to Connor’s midsummer’s party by Baran Al-Hashimi. The day shifters who stopped by had, remarkably, mostly tried to change from their scrubs. However, you could see in their faces the tiredness to which they usually lost the battle to.
Samira was sitting at one of the tables with Cassie McKay, listening to Whitaker talking about the delivery of a calf. She turned to see him and smiled brightly, before he turned to see that Baran had grasped his arm to drag him to the counter. He noticed, however, that Samira’s smile faltered a little, dimple on her cheek not deep as usual. When he sat on his stool and looked back at her table, she looked completely absorbed in whatever tale they were telling. But he knew better.
Samira wasn’t having fun. She wanted to have a good time, but the shift was shitty and the topics of conversation too. Literally. It certainly didn’t help that she was anticipating Jack’s arrival, Dana and Baran teaming up to make him show up. So she was looking forward to have him around outside of the hospital. Not that she minded. They silently made a point of stealing one of two minutes to chat in the break room, an occurrence for which she started arriving at 6:30 am, and he at 6:30 pm. But, on this occasion, it should’ve been less rushed than the usual borrowed time. Except, Baran had grabbed him by the arm. And he followed her to the counter. And she was getting irrationally pissed by this action. And she wanted to go home.
“If I hear more about cows or if she hints one more time to Garcia’s pelvic tattoo, I swear Samira” Cassie said
“I will never look at Yolanda without thinking of that” Samira confirmed – “Whenever you want, We can go”
“I thought you wanted to enjoy your evening” Cassie said
“I think I’d rather enjoy 6 hours of sleep before my next double” Samira justified herself
“Ah, I’ve been framed too. On Saturday” Cassie groaned
“What about Harrison?” Samira asked
“With my parents” Cassie shrugged “It was bound to happen sooner or later”
They stayed another 20 minutes before leaving with little to no commotion, basically sneaking out of the bar. Nobody saw them except Dana, who didn’t comment but did raise her eyebrow.
Samira woke up the next morning and immediately checked her phone. No texts, no calls. The usual. Except, she felt a pang of disappointment.
Heading to shift it was like a zombie apocalypse. The party continued till midnight, and the ED was the torture chamber for those who were nursing a hangover.
Baran looked bright as usual, business as usual. Just, the usual. Samira felt inexplicably drawn to overscrutinize her in search of something different. So far, she couldn’t find anything. Only mention of getting home a little before midnight, only because she had to work in the morning.
Obviously, being the previous night his night off, there was no jack waiting in the break room. Samira started the machine anyway and added some oat milk to her coffee instead of sugar. Then, she did what she does best. Focus on her patients and caring for them.
There’s very little one can do, however, when a patient who was fucking fine dies in the span of 10 minutes. There’s nothing she could do but declare the ToD in the ambulance bay, when a 17 yo was brought in for a fent OD.
Focus and frustration worked side by side for the rest of the shift. 6:30PM arrived before Samira could even only think of getting a grip. She saw from the security hold chamber, JackAbbot approaching the nurse station, and immediately engaging with Dana’s in their usual back-and-forth. Caleb arrived at 6:45 and required her to stay throughout the assessment, meaning the evening coffee was postponed.
Not that much anyway. Cause by the time she finished charting and checked the board, things were actually sailing smooth enough to catch a breath. Samira headed to the break room and took out of the fridge her rice, chicken and vegetables. Heated it up in the microwave and headed to the ambulance bay.
“So this is and extension of the cafeteria” he said, heading out
“and you can’t smell stale food” she agreed
He approached and sat down by her side
“You left early yesterday” he inquired
“I had to catch a ride with Cassie” not a lie. The fact that she wanted to go home just as much as her? An omission at most.
“I could’ve given you a ride” he stated
“I didn’t want to cut your night short” Samira declared
“I didn’t stay that long anyway” He confessed, and she felt lighter. She didn’t voice it
“I made a good call. Today sucked” she chose to say
“Hard day” He inquired
“You can say it” she confirmed
“How are you?” He insisted
“I’m… outside to remember I can put all this shift behind at one point” She said, earnestly
“That’s quite a good way to put it” Jack confirmed
“Too bad we should head back inside”
“One more minute?” He asked and she nodded. It was their golden minute, one last breath before resuming their tasks.
She sighed loudly at one point, gathering all her strength to get up.
She suddenly felt that urge again. She started to turn her face and could not register that he was leaning towards her cheek at the same time. So when she turned, Jack lips collided with hers.
It was a second of shock. They separated almost immediately
“I’m…I’m sorry” he said, turning red
She looked at him and thought that it was kinda cute. Her second thought was that they’d been lucky nobody saw them. The third? That she wanted more of that.
“I’m not” she said looking directly ay his face. Surprising herself with a determination that hardly belonged to something she didn’t even know until a couple of seconds before.
“6:30 Samira. I’ll be in the break room” He said
“I know. Me too”