“Yeah.” I shoot my gaze back to Ginnie’s. “A hot cocoa would be great, thank you.”
She turns and gets to steaming the milk in a silver jug. The hot steam makes loud hissing noises, then turns to a deep pressure gurgle that competes with the soft music playing through the speakers.
“Your name’s Soph?” I turn at his deep voice and meet curious eyes and a still-tilted head. “Like Sophie?”
“Sophia.” I pick up a long strip of bacon and eat because I truly am hungry, and though I wanted him to stop in and visit, talking seems to be a whole other game I’m not sure I’m ready for. “Sophia, because my great-great-great however-many-times-we-have-to-go-back grandma was born in Greece.”
He makes the little scoff noise through his nose, part laugh, part agreement, as he lets his dark eyes wander my lean body. “I see your olive skin. I don’t think it was too manygreatsago. Sophia… Sophia… Sophia…” He rolls my name around in his mouth and makes Ginnie smirk ten feet away. “What’s your last name, Sophia?”
“Ah… Solomon.”
He flashes a fast grin that makes my insides melt. “So Sophia is Greek and on your maternal side, and Solomon is your father’s side… Arabic?”
I chew my bacon and nod.
“Sophia means wisdom, and Solomon, peace. You have a good, strong name, Sophia Solomon. It’s kinda cool.”
“Ah… thanks, I guess.” Picking up my knife and fork, I work through my waffles and fill each square with syrup. “What’s your name?”
“John D. Hamilton.”
I turn my head and study his face. “Your name is John?”
“Uh-huh, but my friends call me J, you know, like my first initial.”
“Jay?” A secretive grin pulls up his lips and brings mine up to mirror. “Jay. Okay. I don’t know the origins of your name. I never checked.”
He barks out a fast laugh, which startles both me and Ginnie. “I did. It means joyful and lively. Kinda fits, I guess.”
He’s joyful and lively… I didn’t guess that.
“Cool.” Setting my fork down and wiping my palm on my jeans, I reach out and extend a hand. “Nice to meet you, Joyful and Lively Jay.”
His dark eyes twinkle with something, dare, challenge,joyfulness, I guess. “Back at ya, Wise and Peaceful Sophia.” He takes my hand, wrapping his around mine for a beat and sending lances of electricity racing through my veins. “Wanna eat with me? It’s cold as balls out there, and the snow’s getting heavier.” Releasing my hand, he pats the empty stool between us. “I’m gonna be here for the next hour, and you’ve only just started eating, so…” He shrugs.
“Sure… I mean… I guess.” I slide my plate along the countertop to fill the space next to his hands. Scooting from one stool to the next, I shiver all over again as the cold gets into my bones. When I get comfortable, I find our shoulders touch; his are so broad, they impose on my space until I have to lean against him and hide my smile.
“Here you go, honey.” Ginnie drops an extra tall mug of steaming cocoa in front of Jay, then another in front of me. Turning away, she comes back with a small plate heaped with mini-marshmallows. “Have the time of your life.” She laughs when he fists a heap and shoves them straight into his mouth.
Ginnie’s eyes come to me. “They were to share. But I’ll get you some more.”
“You live near here, Sophia Solomon?” As soon as Ginnie turns away, my eyes come back to Jay’s. He wears that beanie low over his eyes, but I know he has short, dark hair. He doesn’talwayswear a beanie. His eyes nearly lack color – they’re basically all black. His skin holds a similar olive complexion to mine, and though he’s covered almost from head to toe with clothes to stay warm, I see the tattoos that cover his hands, and when he turns at the exact right angle and his coat moves, I see the same ink stretch right up his throat to just beneath his ears.
He’s been coming in here since around Christmas, so he’s only ever worn winter clothes, but I know the ink covers him all over. I know he’s spent a lot of time and money in a tattoo parlor.
“Soph?”
“Yeah.” My stomach protests loudly, reminding me I’ve had a plate of food in front of me for more than five minutes, and I’ve hardly touched it. Jay continues to eat his marshmallows as I cut up more waffle and shove it into my mouth. “I’m on this block. In an apartment not very far from here.”
He chews his marshmallows, then with his mouth full, brings his cocoa up and sips. “That’s cool. Me too. I’m in the old Benson building.”
Pausing, I turn to him with suspicious eyes. “Me too…”
“Bullshit! Really?” He clangs his mug down and turns his entire body until his knees hit my thighs. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I live on the fifth floor of the old newspaper press. But now that I told you that – and you’re a stranger and all that – I’m regretting my life choices and considering moving.”
“Shit.” He laughs. “I won’t murder you in your sleep or anything, I promise, but I live on the floor below you. No shit; I’m on the fourth floor of the Benson place.”