Chapter Text
Chances are you'll find me,
Somewhere on your road tonight.
Seems I always end up driving by.
Ever since I've known you,
It just seems you're on my way.
All the rules of logic don't apply.
I watched him from under my lashes as I’d done for the past 2 years since he’d shown up in the shop the first time. All this time later, and he still managed to elicit the same response – my heart would feel like it was pounding in my chest, my breath would become more shallow. I was jittery without having had any coffee. My hands would shake. I’d self-consciously push my hair back, wipe my hands down my face and check the corners of my eyes for mascara crumbs – doing anything I could to look as presentable as possible should he notice me.
But he never noticed me.
Never.
Not in all the time I’d been working here, had he done more than give me a curt nod, the barest hint of acknowledgement that he’d noticed I even existed. He wasn’t rude, not by any stretch of the word. No, he was just politely dismissive. If that was even a thing.
He was methodical, very consistent. He always ordered the same thing: a large Red Eye with 2 pumps of dark chocolate syrup. To me, at least, it seemed very off for someone who presented as he did to order something like that. He was always so dark and brooding, so confident in his walk and stance. He seemed so serious, and at the same time so at ease with himself and his surroundings. To see him ordering anything with chocolate syrup just seemed odd. After he got his coffee, he’d walk to the small table at the back of the shop and sit, reading a newspaper for no more than 10 minutes. Then he’d throw away his cup, and off he went. Gone until the next day. And most everyday he showed up like clock-work, and always right after 9 am.
As luck would have it, I never was the one to get to make his order – the others always fought over his cup, whether he, or anyone else realized it or not. It was almost comical to see the other two girls scramble over him, and I’d even seen them making a schedule of sorts over who would take the register when he showed up. Part of me was grateful to never have to actually face him head-on like that, but deep inside I was incredibly jealous that they seemed to get his attention, no matter how forced –or how small– his smile was that he directed at them.
“Carrie!”
I nearly dropped the pitcher of water that I’d been filling for the past two minutes, so preoccupied with my thoughts of John. I shut off the water as I heard my name being bellowed again across the shop.
"Carrie! Register, please!” Derick, the store manager, jerked his head over at the register as he caught my attention.
Oh god. I looked around, frantically searching for the other two girls, and realizing for the first time that morning that neither was here.
Oh god. I was gonna have to do it today. Oh god.
Nearly tripping over my own two feet, I made my way to the front register, my heart hammering in my chest as I realized I was going to have to take his order. His order.
“Can I help you, please?” Even I could hear how pathetic I sounded. I stared at the center of his chest, my eyes trained on the dark, black button holding his shirt together.
“Large Red Eye, 2 pumps of dark chocolate syrup.” The deep voice stated calmly. I refused to look at him, instead did the whole watching from-under-my-lashes-thing-so-I-could-kinda-see-his- face-but-not-quite-enough-to-meet-his eyes. I was so slickkkkk…..
“Okay, great.” I punched in the order on my register, still not looking at him. “That’ll be $5.48, please.” I still managed to not look at the man as I reached and took the twenty he’d slid across the countertop towards me. I quickly pushed his change back towards him, feeling more relieved now that the transaction was almost over.
“Don’t you need my name? For the cup.”
“Oh, your name is John, I got it.” I blurted out without thinking as I pulled out my Sharpie and wrote his name on said cup. Realizing what I’d done, I finally looked up, my wide, brown eyes meeting his slightly narrowed, dark-brown ones. I could feel myself furiously blushing under his gaze, and I quickly looked away.
“You sure about that?” The man asked, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as my eyes furtively met his again. I’d swear on my meager paycheck that underneath that dark façade, he was laughing at me.
“I’m sorry. It is John, isn’t it?” I stammered out pathetically. This time, he did grace me with what could possibly be called a smirk. It wasn’t a smile, and it wasn’t a frown. It was something in-between and it was causing my belly to do some weird flip-flopping thing.
“Yes, Carrie, it’s John.”
If I could have died on the spot, I would have chosen that over standing here the way that I was. The way my name sounded coming off his lips, the assuredness with which he said it, I couldn’t handle it. And I was ninety-nine percent sure that John knew I was on the verge of passing out, right in front of him. I nervously fiddled with my register, not knowing what else to do as I waited for him to leave. Mercifully, Derrick came around with John’s drink, and handed it to him.
“Mr. Wick,” Derrick nodded as he handed John his drink.
“Derrick,” John nodded back.
Once Derrick had retreated to the kitchen area, it was John and me, alone again. Why hadn’t I just left when Derrick showed up?? I stood there, nervously fidgeting with my register, not meeting his eyes, and prayed that he would leave.
“You have a good day, Carrie,” John finally remarked as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. He made his way back to his usual table, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
12 hours later….
I stretched my back, using my knuckles to work out the kinks as best as possible. The other two girls apparently had the flu, so Derrick had asked if I wanted to pull a double, and being broke like I was, I’d agreed. My back and feet, however, were completely against the idea, and now after 12 hours, they were screaming in agony. With one last burst of energy, I lifted the trash bag and dragged it out back. I set it on the side of the door, knowing I couldn’t lift it into the dumpster. Derrick would have to get it tomorrow when he or whoever showed up. It was just me closing down the shop, and I was beyond ready to get home and take off my boots.
“Hello, Carrie.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at that deep voice calling from the shadows. John stepped out, revealing himself from his hiding spot behind the shop. He walked over, effortlessly lifted the bag, and quickly threw it in the dumpster for me. He turned back, a half-smile on his face.
“Mr. Wick. What are you doing out here?” I asked, suddenly chilled. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
“You’re scared.” It was a statement more than a question. I nodded in agreement. “Why?” John asked, stepping closer.
“You make me nervous,” I admitted, my eyes darting back and forth to him.
“That seems to be an unfortunate by-product in my line of work,” John frowned. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” John disagreed. “That was never my intention.”
“Why are you out here, Mr. Wick?” I asked again.
“Please, call me John. And I’m out here…often,” John stated calmly.
“What? Why?”
“You have some…disagreeable visitors…sometimes, and I feel the need to make sure you’re okay.”
“How do you know that?” I asked, wracking my brain to try to determine who he could be talking about. And did he just say he was going to make sure I was okay? What did that even mean? John stepped a little closer, almost too close, and I felt myself rock back on my heels just a little. He was much taller when I was standing so close.
“I know lots of things,” John stated calmly, looking down his nose at me.
“Like what?” I asked. What was that saying, curiously killed the cat? Why did I suddenly feel like a cat on it’s 9th life?
“I know you’ve been watching me.”
“How do you know that?” I breathed out, my cheeks flaming.
“Because I’ve been watching you. Watching me.” He was smirking again. Even in the dark, I could tell he was smirking.
“You have?”
“I have.” John nodded down at me as he stepped closer. He’d completely eclipsed the light of the patio area, his broad frame overwhelming my much smaller one.
“But why?”
“Why not? You’re beautiful. I like to look at beautiful things.” John stated matter-of-factly.
“What? Me?” I stepped back, tripping over my own feet again – that was two times in one day – but was saved from breaking my neck when John caught me by my arms and pulled me up against his chest. For just a moment, he held me there, his strong hands wrapped around my upper arms, and I let my muddled thoughts run amok as my chest was so tightly pressed against his. So this was what being held by John would feel like. Lord knows I’d imagined it more times than I was proud to admit…
“Yes. You.” He released me and stepped back. “Have dinner with me.”
It wasn’t even a question, but more of a request. One I didn’t feel I could say no to.
“I don’t even know you, Mr. Wick,” I protested weakly.
“Yes you do. My name is John. You’re Carrie. And we’ve known each other for about 2 years now.”
“You’re not some kind of murderer, are you?” I blurted out, still shocked at the turn of events.
John snorted, unexpectedly. “If I said it was something like that, but not quite, would that change your mind about having dinner with me?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, when deep down I knew that if John asked me to jump off a bridge, I just might do it.
“Then give me a chance. Have dinner with me.” He stepped closer again, bringing his hand up so that he could cup my cheek. “Just dinner, nothing more.”
“Okay,” I agreed, clearly not thinking.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into. No idea at all.