Eve's mouth curls in embarrassment as her car slows to an attention-seeking halt, the pitchy squeak screaming from somewhere in its belly goes heavily detected by everyone in the vehicle's immediate vicinity, much to her dismay. She leans back in her seat, head tossed back against its rest and hands flattened against her face at the sheer humiliation of it all. For a while now, her car had made questionable noises whenever she drove it, so much so that she'd grown deaf to the fact. It wasn't until she found herself acquainted with Morgan the baker and her trusty mechanic of a boyfriend, that she was informed how clinically insane she must be to hear her car crying out for help and ignore it.
After his definitive insistence and a few minutes of scolding, Sullivan managed to convince Eve to bring her car into the shop, and ever since, that eery squeaking has rung louder in her ears than ever, to the point she now finds herself wondering how she ever missed it.
Eve presses her foot gently against her gas pedal yet again, wincing at its cries of pain as she rolls down the narrow strip between Bill's Barber and Abbey's Café, whose fumes almost completely overpower the distinct stench of grease. Once she's as far in as space allows, she deads the engine and clambers out of the car. Guerrero's sounds closed but the lights are on and the doors are pulled wide open. She decides against wandering inside. Rather, she pulls her phone from her pocket and dials Sullivan's number. Once, twice, thrice, but to no availâsuddenly, she wishes she'd stayed at home.
"Can I help you, miss?"
Eve shoots upright from where she'd been lazily lounging against her car, and spins in the direction she'd been addressed. Her response is fixed and ready to be spoken, until her eyes meet another's, and she quickly finds herself rendered speechless. She stares at the adonis of a man looming over her, shoulders squared and glare-set features sewn together in sublimity. Eve is by no means unfeeling, but never has she caught herself so easily enamoured by someone's looks alone. She only spares a second away from his face, to read the name tag pinned to the nipple of his wifebeaterâJahseh. Something twitches in his face as she looks up at him and he looks down at her, yet Eve is sure it's the furthest thing from a smile.
In fact, his deadened stare brings her hurtling back to their awkward reality, where she'd replied to his question with shameless ogling.
"Sorry."
"For what?"
"Uh..." Eve trails off, because she too is confused at herself. "Is Sullivan here? He said I should bring my car in."
Jahseh's eyes narrow, as if he doesn't believe a word she's saying, "He stepped out."
"Oh. I'll... Go. I'll go and then come back," Eve says, clasping her hands together in a way so animated it makes her insides shrivel up like raisins immediately afterwards. Jahseh doesn't respond, or Eve doesn't give him a chance to. She scurries back into her driver's seat, slams the door behind her and sparks her engine back to life. She stalls for a moment as she eyes Jahseh through the windshield, he eyes her right back and then begins his retreat back into the shadows.
That is, until the drum-splitting shriek of Eve's brakes sends a quake through his skeleton. He pivots, raising a firm hand. With raised brows, Eve stops, winds down her window, pokes her hand out and waves.
"I'm not saying bye, I'm saying stop," Jahseh says. Eve's mouth falls into an o, aggressively overcome with embarrassment. He approaches the vehicle with purpose in his march, Eve subconsciously dabs at the corner of her mouth in fears of her drool, she tucks her hands into her lap and tries to recall anyone as fine as the man before her. "Come out the car."
She does, and obediently so. Eve presses her back against the wall and watches on as Jahseh gets to work. Time forsakes her as she leers after him, meanwhile he moves her car and then begins to skilfully take it apart until his empty hands are toting the most diabolically shaven brake pads he's ever had the displeasure of coming across all his years working on cars. He turns towards Eve, whose hands are cuffed behind her back as she cluelessly watches over him.
Eve glances between the metal parts in his hands, nameless to her mind, and frowns slightly, "Are you taking those out? Don't I need them?" Jahseh bites back a million smart-mouthed responses, especially at the innocence of her questions.
"You're missing about half an inch off these."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if Sully didn't have you bring it in, theseâ" Jahseh raises the worn pads better into her view, "âwould've had you pancaked on the M25."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh," Jahseh chuckles beneath his breath, as he busies himself with the pads' disposal. Eve eyes him until he leaves her field of vision, and then she presses her eyes shut for a moment. The emotional burden of her lack of friends in the area has been significantly snuffed out by the company Morgan and Sullivan lovingly force upon her, yet it's never without a reminder that if she wants to meet people she has to actually meet people. And where, if not in chance situations like this one?
Upon his re-entry into the space, Eve clears her throat with feigned confidence, "So... Jahseh, right?" Jahseh glances towards his tag, his legible name scribed across the length of it, and back to Eve, who can only purse her lips in response. "Are you from around here? I just moved to the area."
"Why?"
"Oh, you see that little rec centre under the overpass? By Harrow Manorway? I boughtâ"
"No, why are you asking? What's it to you?" Jahseh questions. Now, in his mind, his words are rid of malice but to anyone with two ears and a tendency to overthink, his questioning comes off far from friendly. Jahseh realises this, as he watches Eve's body practically recoil into its shell.
"I was, uh... Sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Eve mumbles. "I work out of the rec centre now."
"Hm."
"Yeah. It's a youth outreach program. I actually run it," Eve rambles and presses her hand against her chest, anxiety at the wheel. "And I realise you never asked but I'mâ"
"Eve."
A silence ensues between the pair, Eve surprised by more things than one. For instance, the solace that rears itself upon her shoulders as her and Jahseh engage in a mutual gaze. Maybe the heat of their silence, and the novel ease she discerns within it. That, and the fact he knows her name. Or rather, the way it rolls off his tongue like silk, careful and wispy. Like wind through a troupe of leaves, or pellets of rain against the canopy of a tree. He says her name, breathless and all, with a softness that rivals the spartan persona he'd introduced her to.
Say it again.
"How..." Eve's words escape her, and then she's soon distracted by the purring of an engine from beyond the garage. She glances in its direction, but when she looks back to Jahseh, he's already removed the stained cloth once draped over his shoulder. He takes several grudging steps backwards, swabbing his hands clean of dirt and apparently their conversation.
"Sullivan'll get that for you, miss," Jahseh calls out, nodding his head towards his brother's inbound figure, before he turns around and returns to whichever work of art he'd crawled out of. Eve eyes the muscles in his back as he retreats, the whole ordeal feeling more like a fever dream if anything.
Even after he's nowhere to be seen and Sullivan unwittingly takes his place, her mind is consumed in every respect by all that is himâJahseh.
Meh, I don't like it as much but it's something. I should probably save this but who cares? Don't get used to daily updates though, #lol.
They finally meet, love that for us. I hope Jahseh doesn't come across too nice because he's not.
Eve was loving him offffff, dfkm.
I know it's not much but tell me what you think (please)!