It's Friday night, and I'm heading to the pub. I'm really fucking frustrated that Jonah is actually good at adulting, and I'm also frustrated because I still have no information on the plan. Honestly, I might not be going to the pub for Jonah, I'm probably just going there because I need to drown in my sorrow with more alcohol.
I enter the loud building and immediately sort of regret it. I'd much rather watch the sunset and lose my mind because being peaceful is boring than most likely see Jonah and use all my energy to try and get something out of him.
I trudge to the bar and, what do ya know, I see Jonah sitting on a stool, a cup of alcohol in one hand and his phone in the other. I try to be sneaky and go behind him, trying to get a glimpse of what he's doing but he shuts his phone off and turns to me so quickly I almost curse and blame his policeman senses.
"Oh. Tony." He says, slightly more relaxed now that he's learned I'm the one trying to invade his privacy. I give him a small greeting smile before slowly reaching for his drink. He doesn't stop me, just sorta watches as I chug his beer and sit next to him. "Rough day?" He asks me. Yes. Yes, Jonah Clayton, it is a rough day because you haven't fallen in love with me yet so I can't use you to help my mates and save their lives.
In reality, I just nod, sighing down into the empty glass. I pass on the refill the bartender offers. Jonah nods back, letting me have some silence for a moment until he says, "Hey, listen. I'm sorry for urging you out of the police station yesterday." I glance at him, slightly spaced out. When I don't respond, he continues. "It's just--I wasn't expecting my hook-up to arrive at my work and request me, y'know?" I smile a tiny bit, nodding. "You heard me?"
"Yeah, the coffee machine is right in front of the entrance to the office. And those walls are pretty thin." He says, and that makes me chuckle. "I'm sorry. For requesting you, I mean. We're just hook-ups to each other, and that's a mutual thought, so . . . Didn't mean to barge in there and be an embarrassing wife."
"No, you're fine. I should be the one apologizing."
I turn to face him completely. "You already have."
There's a pause where we just stare into each other's eyes, trying to figure each other out. I want to know the plan or just any dirt on Jonah, to feel that satisfaction knowing that he isn't the complete opposite of me. But Jonah? I don't know what he's looking for. He's a fucking mystery. And I hate mysteries.
"How's your work?" I ask, looking away from him and back down to my empty glass.
"Oh, uh--" He clear his throat, "It's--it's fine. Typical police officer business, nothing much happening. What about you? What do you do?"
I roll my lips into my mouth, thinking of a quick lie. I don't have a job besides the mafia and being an expert heist-committer, but if I say that to him I'll be banged, and not in a good way.
"Oh, you know. My own little thing. Don't really have a name for it." I say as casually as I can. He seems to take it, nodding once as he checks me out. "Must be something fancy for you to wear a suit every time we meet." He remarks, smiling. I find my lips doing the same. "Would you prefer I wear something more casual?"
"No," he says softly, cupping my cheek, "what you wear is completely fine with me." He leans in for a kiss and I do the same. This smooch isn't much like last time's, which is oddly more enjoyable and sentimental. It's brief though, so I don't get to bask in the sweetness for long. But one thing's for certain: Jonah's lips are really fucking nice! To the other people who've gotten kisses from him before, you should fucking cherish every fucking chance you get to kiss him, like, damn!
As Jonah pulls away, we share more awkward smiles and a chuckle or two. But now, with that delicious moment done with, the frustration comes seeping its rabies-infected teeth back into my soul and I can think of nothing else but how much I'm fucking up.