Getting the Date Isn't Hard, It's Sticking the Landing

Coming out of the beach-side locker room was Jason Sange, pulling his tank-top over a torso defined with muscle. The neckline went past his light brown hair and as it slipped down below his eyes he squinted against the brilliant red glow of a setting sun. The light was low enough that although it was bright to look at, all of the actual illumination seemed to be caught behind the world, backlighting the scant people remaining on the beach and throwing long shadows down across the sand. Jason shook his head, throwing droplets and forming a small mist above his hair. His feet buried into the sand as he walked toward the promenade. On the promenade he left a sandy trail leading toward the wooden snack shack. There was a two-sided staircase with a landing in the middle. Jason came up the left side and there on the deck he leaned against the railing, looking out toward the sun. It was now dipping its lower quarter into the ocean, so it seemed.

Jason was excited. He had a grin that he couldn't seem to shake. He was in his last four months of law school, a sure graduate, and Pop had promised to show him the benefits of following the family trade. Pop had been clandestine about it, but Jason wasn't surprised. Pop had a sense of humor, and a streak of mischief at times. Knowing that it wasn't going to be worth trying to pry more information out once Pop had clammed up, Jason had just nodded in understanding and patiently held his peace. Behind his immutable grin and apparent excitement was a nervous giddiness that was just as impossible to quell. It was probably some doubt, deep down, that he didn't understand. That wasn't good, to have those unknowns, and it worried him. Maybe he'd need to contact his psychiatrist. They'd had a personal one for the family to ensure that they, Jason and Pop, knew themselves. Sun Tsu had made a good point when he wrote about it.

A thump interrupted Jason's reverie. A girl coming up the steps, carrying a pair of roller blades, had tripped on the slippery boards and dropped, tossing her blades and banging her shin. She was still sucking in a breath through her teeth when Jason approached. "Hey," he said with evident concern, taking her gently by the elbow. "Are you alright? That looked painful."

The girl rose, using him as a brace, her free hand slapping atop her helmet like she was afraid it was going to fly off. "Yeah," she said. It sounded like she was talking to herself, but then her eyes came up and she saw Jason's face. Whatever seemed to have had her distracted fled instantly, replaced with stark focus. "Oh." She sized him up with darting eyes. "Yes. I'm good."

Jason held her gaze for a moment. She was pretty. Tanned face, big amber eyes. She had a look on her visage like a combination of amusement, confusion and intrigue. Jason said, "Excellent." He turned to grab her skates that had skittered across the landing when she fell. "I'm just glad you weren't wearing these when you came up those steps." He held the roller blades out for her and she laughed as she took them. She said, "I'd probably be waiting for an ambulance if that were the case." She looked up at his eyes, pointedly. "Thanks for helping me out."

The body language was there: The one bent knee, an arm over her stomach, head tilted to the side, direct eye contact. "Of course," Jason began. "Now that I've saved your life, I think you owe me a favor." He kept his tone light, and made sure he was standing so that she had the freedom to move in any direction if she wanted to do so.

"Oh?" She said, easing around him. "What sort of favor?"

"Lunch. Tomorrow. Say, around twelve." Don't ask, tell. No one likes someone who's indecisive or timid.

She edged closer to the steps on the other side. "I've got classes until 3."

Jason took a chance. "So do I."

She paused an instant, one foot down on the first step. Jason was suddenly resisting the urge to hold his breath. Would she like the danger? or would she consider him too much of a risk? Jason wasn't normally the type to be a truant. He was aware of this break in character for himself, but there was something about her that made him heedless, even reckless.

The girl said, "We'll see."

"Meet me right here on this deck, then."

She sized him up again, slowly, then bobbed down the steps and started along the concrete walkway. Jason watched her go. Shorty-shorts, cut-off shirt, short blonde hair sticking out of her crash helmet. Thank you, Ma'am. Occasionally she'd glance back coyly, and Jason had no problem openly ogling. That's what she was hoping to see, after all.

When she was out of sight, consumed by the darkness that seemed to have crept in unnoticed, Jason Sange turned and leaned his elbows against the wooden railing. Then he threw his head back and laughed. It was good to be alive.