Bright Skies Ch 1 Prt 2

***I am pretty new to writing novels but I've dedicated myself to transforming a dream I had into this story, so I hope you enjoy! Part 1 can be found at http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2091794-Bright-Skies-Ch-1-Prt-1 ***

"Hello...are you okay?"

How embarrassing. Straightening up in my chair I brush the tears off my cheek and do my best to clear my face of its previous emotions. He looks like a nice guy, I haven't seen him around before. Perhaps he's new. His face has slight bags under his eyes, the kind you get from stress or lack of sleep.

"Sorry. Yeah, It's fine, I mean I'm fine." I can't help but cringe at my own awkwardness.

"You didn't look fine a second ago." A half smile breaks across his face.

"Ha," his smile is a bit disarming, "yeah, I'm just kinda frustrated. I'll get over it." Turning from the window I busy myself shutting off the engine avoiding eye contact. I glance over to see he's moved from my door to half sitting half leaning on his car parked right beside mine. I take my time grabbing my things and opening the door. I catch him looking off at no where, his mind far off in some unimaginable place. He lets out a very controlled force of air, a specific sigh it sounds like he's done a million times before, this one's aimed in my direction.

"I need a drink," he says as such a declaration and a flash of amusement courses through me as I watch him run his hands through his hair in exasperation, "seems like you could use one too." Another half smile, "Care to join me?"

My lips start to form the word "no" before I stop myself. Why not? I don't know him. My red flags are always there in the background, ready to not trust. He seems harmless though, nice even. Today has been such a disappointment, it doesn't seem possible for it to get worse. Sure. Yes. I want to.

"Sure."

A full smile. Something lights up in his eyes that wasn't there before. I watch him stand up, look around, and spot the bar a block a way. "Is that place any good? I don't really know the area yet."

"Not sure, I've never been there," I don't want to see his excitement drop so I quickly add, "I've heard good things."

"Great! Uh..." He glances back at what looks like a computer bag and lunch box spread across his passenger seat, "let me take care of a few things. Do you want to meet over there? Let's shoot for half an hour or so."

"Works for me." I turn to lock up my civic.

"My name's Michael, I didn't introduce myself before."

"Jessica" I smile before turning to walk away, "I'll see you there."

"Great. See you."

I glance back over my shoulder to see him moving some things around in his car. A flutter of excitement moves through me as I walk up the stairs to my place. My place. My heart sinks a little as the feeling of despair fights for its place at the front of my mind. I throw my purse on the tile floor and collapse on my couch as soon as I walk through the door.

What a headache. I can't stay upset. Scratch that. I certainly can stay upset, but it'll do me no good. A solution. There's always a solution, but right now a better solution is have a drink with the cute neighbor and get this as far from my mind as possible.

I wonder what's happened in his day to put him in such a mood. There was a definite tenseness around him. Could be anything I suppose. The clock in the corner catches my attention and I make my way over to the closet to pick something to change into.

After rummaging through my endless piles of clothes for a good ten minutes I settle on zipping up a bright yellow sundress I bought a few weeks ago but never got around to wearing. I almost immediately regret my decision. Smooth skin transforms into frown lines in my reflection as nervous mixed feelings wash over me. It looks good, but that makes it look like I tried to look good. I don't want him to read into it. What if he takes it for over excitement? Desperation? Men are so difficult in the real world and I wonder for a moment what I was thinking by saying yes. I tend to over think these things like a game of chess that only I'm playing, only problem is I don't tend to win.

My door shudders as I close it harder than I meant to. I'm over thinking it by even thinking about it that way at all. I'm sure he just wants someone to complain to about his day. I can feel heat on my cheeks as I head down the stairs and I mentally chastise myself for letting my vanity make such quick assumptions about his intentions.

The sign for Platform looms in front of me. It's one of those places that looks like it's trying way too hard to be relevant with mild atmosphere lights and a falsely luxurious exterior that's about as high class as a plastic chandler. True Vegas style.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim illumination coming from oversized hipster lightbulbs hanging above the tables. The dining room is nearly empty and after a sweeping look over at the bar it appears my new neighbor is nowhere to be seen. Figures. The bartender gives me an inviting smile between wiping down dirty glasses, so I have a seat and order a glass of wine. A cool sip of Pino Grigio sends a familiar sense of calm through me. The taste is sweeter here and I can't remember the last time I had a drink outside of work. It's a lovely feeling to pay for my own drink and not have to pretend to be overly grateful.

I can feel a wave of hot air pass over me from where I'm sitting by the door. I turn to see my neighbor squinting at the dining room and watch as his eyes turn to catch mine. Their expression is slightly flustered and apologetic.

"Sorry I'm late, damn cat." He mutters the last bit as he takes a seat on the bar stool next to mine. "Apparently he hates my new place, he made a run for it as soon as I opened the door. Have you been sitting here for long?"

"Nope. I just started settling in. Here," I hand him the drink menu that I realize I'm still holding, "what's your cats name?"

"Terrance," he glances over the menu and flips it over to the beer selection, "he kinda looks like Garfield, only fatter." The bartender looks at him expectantly and he orders a Guinness.

"Terrance?" I flash him an amused grin.

"I didn't name him," he returns with a half smile, "he's kind of a relic from a past life of mine."