Jack pulled onto the parking lot of an old fashioned diner that looked like it was straight out of an old movie. It was a gleaming silver and neon beacon to hungry people everywhere. They followed a hostess across the black and white checked flooring to a booth with red leather padded bench seats and a little jukebox affixed to the wall.
"So you're an art major?" she asked skeptically after the waitress had taken their order and walked away.
Jack crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a little glare. The muscles of his surprisingly thick arms strained against the fabric of his sleeves. Her mouth watered a bit. Shit! Paying attention to his response was not an easy task. Now she knew how men felt when a woman crossed her arms and it pushed her boobs together. You had to look. You just had to.
"I am an art major." He cocked his head. "Why is that so hard to believe?" he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
"I don't know. I guess I think of the artsy folks as the ones who constantly have paint spatters on their clothes, or their fingers are black from drawing. They're the sculptors in their smocks and goggles. They're the ones with multi-colored hair and piercings. You're so . . . clean and put together." She finished and his look of disappointment made her squirm.
"You sound just like my dad. ‘You'll never get anywhere with an art degree, Jackson. There's no future in that shit, Jackson.'" He deepened his voice and adopted an angry visage, as if imitating his father. When he returned to a normal tone the warm presence that had radiated from him since he first wrapped his arms around her was gone. He looked resigned and saddened. "I love my art. It may not be the classic form of art you're imagining, but it is art all the same. I'm studying graphic design and web design. I won't apologize for it."
Okay. She'd obviously struck a nerve. But she wouldn't let Jack lump her in with his father. She didn't think it was a bad choice. She only wanted to understand his choice. She was curious by nature and thought she was opening up a conversation, not starting a disagreement.
"Hold on just a minute." She put up her hands like she was soothing an animal. "I didn't mean that as an insult and I certainly don't think you need to apologize for anything. I didn't say anything about art not providing a viable career. I was just curious about what made you choose art. I'm a business major. It's all about the numbers for me. I need a plan of action to follow," she tried to explain. He grimaced at her words. She pointed at him. "You see, that sounded like a shit idea to you, didn't it? Obviously, the idea of spending your days working toward a bigger bottom line does not sound like a good time to you, does it?" she challenged.
"Fuck no! That sounds boring as shit. Spending day after day counting beans and stacking them in nice neat piles sounds like an early death to me." He replied with a wrinkled nose. Well, damn, he did have to put it that way? Now she was offended.
"That's my life, Jack, my future. That's my love. You may not get it but can you respect it?" she asked.
"Of course I can." He nodded. "If that's your thing and it makes you happy then I totally respect you working toward that goal."
"My point exactly, sir. I wasn't questioning your choice of majors, I really just wanted to know exactly what kind of art you practice and why, but I see this is a sore spot for you. Damn, I'm sorry I asked." She looked away from his deep blue eyes as the waitress brought them their drinks. Had his eyes been that blue earlier? She didn't think so.
Grace wanted to be annoyed by his description of her as a bean counter, but she couldn't when he looked so sullen. Damn it! Was he pouting? She couldn't handle the pouting.
"And you may not understand my piles of beans stacked in neat and even rows, but they are logical and orderly fucking piles of beans that I need to function!" she shouted just as the waitress appeared with their food. The poor waitress looked afraid to come any closer. Jack busted up laughing, and a man behind the counter moved around the counter like he might have to step in at any moment. Great, she meets a totally hot guy who seems to like her and proceeds to insult him and shout at him about beans and the order they belong in, all within an hour. Stellar job, Yates, just stellar.
"Pardon me," she told the waitress, "I happen to be passionate about beans."
Jack was damn near rolling on the floor with laughter by this point. The waitress dropped the plates off and ran. Grace did her best to ignore Jack as she moved exactly half of the French fries from her plate into the carryout container she'd requested. Jack's laughter calmed as he watched her. She removed the onion from her burger and began to cut the burger into four equal pieces. She placed two pieces in the carryout container with the fries and closed it. When she looked up Jack was struggling and failing to hold back another round of hysterics. His eyes were bright and shining once again with the warmth she'd chased away with her question about his major.
"What now?" she asked, feeling annoyed.
"What the fuck are you doing with your food?" he wiped tears from his eyes and examined her plate. "Do you need to dissect it first? How do you know you won't eat it all?"
Now he was going to make fun of her eating habits? First she nearly falls and he has to save her, she insulted him, then the fucking beans, and now her burger. She always ate this way. Grace needed her food in sections, just like everything else in her life. Not to mention that she'd been overweight in her youth. Saving half her food was a trick she used to keep herself from overeating. Her face reddened and tears threatened. She really liked this guy, so far anyway, and he was laughing at her. Grace was mortified. She stood up and walked away from the table.
Jack followed her, "Hold on a minute, Gracie. Don't be pissed. It's just that you're so fucking cute." He was still laughing. Asshole. She kept walking.
Jack grabbed her elbow and gently pulled her to a stop. "Come on. I'm sorry about vomiting my daddy issues all over you. I spoke to him earlier and that is never a good time. I didn't mean to take it out on you. And I wasn't trying to make fun of you. Not really. Let's start over." He extended his hand to her, "Hi. I'm Jack Landry, art major with a focus on graphic art and digital media."
Grace rolled her eyes. She didn't want to be charmed again, but she was, damn it! Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulder and they returned to their booth. The rest of the meal passed without either of them insulting the other. Jack told her about his most recent project. It was a group effort in which his team was building a website. Each person got their own page to design and the home page was a collaboration of the team. He was struggling to allow the other students to do their part. He preferred to work alone, because as he'd demonstrated earlier, he had a tendency to steamroll people. Letting others have a say on work he'd be graded on was tough for him, but he was getting through it and the project was nearly done and looking very good.
Grace told him about her family and the pressure she felt to do her parents proud. She soon realized they were alike in as many ways as they were different. If this buzz of chemistry between them went anywhere she could see they would butt heads regularly.
Jack hadn't made any further advances and she was beginning to fear she was the only one experiencing the instant attraction that had her sweating and trying to be interesting, more interesting than a bean counter. Somewhere between talk of Jack's brother who was a Marine and their father's pride and joy, and Grace telling him what life as an only child was like, Jack reached across the table and captured her hand. His much larger hand enveloped hers and it shouldn't have been a big deal but she knew it was and sensed it was for Jack as well.
The conversation had fizzled out and they were just sitting there holding hands. She was trying not to overthink this crazy turn of events. Jack was handsome and he had a great sense of humor. He even made her laugh at herself, which is something she never did. Grace took herself and her studies in particular very seriously. She was enjoying his company and to be honest, it was the first time since she entered college that she found herself really into a guy. She wanted to see where it could go and judging by the sparks that were leaping between them, she thought it would go straight to the bedroom. The man was charming, intelligent, and sexy as hell with his thick biceps and wavy sandy locks.
Grace's cell rang in her jacket and she answered the call from her very concerned roommate. Jack smirked at her from across the table and drew circles on her palm while she tried to explain to Jessie that she'd simply forgotten to mention that she was leaving the game with a guy she'd just met. She was getting the third degree from Jessie and Jack was enjoying the show. She told Jessie yes, he was very handsome. No, he didn't look like a serial killer. Yes, she liked him, and no she hadn't told him that yet because they just met. Jack looked smug as he listened. The jerk was too cute as he preened under her praise on the other side of the table.