Soo.... I had this plot bunny (an idea that hops into your head and won't hop out until you do something about it) and the first person I thought of to play the part... was the lovely Niki!
His 4:15 Girl
Joe sat at his window and looked out on the street below. He was waiting, hands gripping the windowsill in excitement. His sixteen year old heart pounded, his legs jittered. He glanced at the clock. 4:14 PM. Any moment now.
Then she appeared, around the street corner on the left side of his street. Wow, he thought as his breath caught in his throat. She looked beautiful today. Chocolate brown hair loose, auburn highlights shimmering, with that smile beaming as always. A pale blue skirt and white top complemented her so perfectly… his eyes tracked with her every movement. He watched her walk and, as usual, counted her steps. Twenty-one across, then her hair swirled around her shoulders as she checked for cars in the street. A turn on her left heel, thirty steps across his street, turn to the right, twenty-three steps across, another left turn, and she disappeared around the corner. He was left breathless, heart aching, head spinning. He went to his journal, wrote down how she looked, her smile, how he felt, and went back to waiting for the next day.
Every day Joe watched the girl who walked by his house. She was precise, almost always coming by within one minute of 4:15. She was tall, probably only a few inches shorter than he was, with long, flowing chocolate hair that shone auburn in the sun, and the sweetest face he had ever seen. Every day she walked by, and every day he watched her. Twenty one steps, hair toss, left turn, thirty steps, right turn, twenty three steps, left turn, and vanish. He was enamored, starry-eyed, every time he saw her.
He knew nothing about her. Not her name, not where she lived or where she went, not even the sound of her voice. Yet he was sure, in his sixteen year old way, that he was in love with her. His days were spent waiting for 4:15, his nights dreaming of her hair and smile.
He watched her for a year, through summer, when she wore tank tops and pretty sundresses, and through winter, when she trudged through the snow in a heavy jacket, hair sparkling with snowflakes, cheeks rosy from cold, smile still bright. So many times he wanted to go out and talk to her. He wanted to get to know her better. But he always chickened out, terrified, with a thousand excuses running through his mind: What if she thinks I’m a creep, what if she changes her route and doesn’t come by here anymore? What if she just plain doesn’t like me? So he never moved from his spot at the window, only dreamed that one day he would hold her, that her brilliant smile would be for him.
During that year, he got his first kiss, but dreamed of the 4:15 girl, and not his girlfriend, when he lay down that night. Then, when that girlfriend had come and gone, and he turned 17, he and his brothers got a record deal and set out on tour, leaving their little Wyckoff home--and 4:15 girl--behind.
Another year went by. Joe’s fame exploded and he could have had any girl he wanted to date. He did date a few, but never dreamed of anyone but her. His brothers knew about her and teased him about his crush, but little did they know how deeply he longed for her, how much he missed his 4:15 dates with the window. He grew from a goofy, awkward teen boy into a shaggy-haired, steely-eyed rock star, whose voice melted millions and who simply waved his hand and caused shrieks and tears of joy.
Then, after a year, he went home to Wyckoff for the last time, to move his things out of his childhood home and across the country to L.A. He was taking a box out to the moving van when he glanced at his watch for the millionth time. Finally! 4:13, it read. He shoved the box carelessly into the van and stood still, waiting, watching the corner for her to come around it.
4:14.
4:15.
4:16. Joe’s heart stuttered in disappointment. His throat closed up and he fought back tears, even surprising himself with the strength of his reaction.
Then she was there. Later than usual, more stunning than ever. She was slightly taller and her hair was longer and, if possible, shone even brighter. Her smile beamed, her whole body glowed--to him, at least. Pulse racing, blood singing, Joe watched her walk by. She didn’t see him, tucked away behind the moving van. She strode away and he stared at her back, watching the girl he couldn’t forget walk away from him for the last time.
The realization hit him, like a brick wall. The last time. He would never see her again after today. Could he let her walk away? His heart answered before his head. “Hey!” He shouted past the lump in his throat, “Hey!”
She stopped where she normally turned left to cross the street, turned, and looked at him. For the first time, she looked at him. He jogged over to her, head whirling. “I--” Hazel. That was the only thought that filled his head. Her eyes are beautiful, beautiful hazel.
Those deep hazel eyes went wide. “Joe Jonas?”
He nodded. “I--I had to talk to you.”
Her brow crinkled in innocent confusion, and his heart nearly stopped even at such a simple movement. “Why?” Her voice was as sweet as her face and soft as her lips looked.
“I, uh…” Think, Joe! Tell her! Tell her what? How you feel! “You’re so beautiful.” Smooth. Real smooth.
A blush bloomed on her cheeks, quickening his breath. “Thank you.”
“What I mean is--I’ve watched you walk by every day.” There we go, getting closer.
“I’m going to work--you watch me?”
Joe nodded, gulping. “Twenty one steps, left, thirty steps, right, twenty three steps, left, and gone. For years.”
She looked shocked, more than a bit uncomfortable. “You count my steps?”
Joe saw everything tumbling downhill. “I don’t know your name, or where you live, or anything about you except what I’ve seen from my window. But your smile is amazing, and you’re so pretty, and I just feel like I know you. And--and I think I love you.” He saw the fright, shock, and insecurity flood her eyes and he stumbled on desperately. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, moving to L.A. for good, and I’ll be out of your life forever if you want it like that, like I never met you at all. But I’m begging you not to let that happen. I’ve dreamed about you for years and--”
“Niki,” she interrupted softly, “I’m Niki.” Then she looked him straight in the eyes through her bangs and stepped slowly into his arms.
As his embrace closed around her, Joe smelled her shampoo, felt her dry warmth soaking into his skin, and heart his heart thundering in his chest. He thought he should say something, but could think of nothing to express how he felt. Not even “I love you” could do it justice. He had never thought something could be more than perfect, but holding her proved him wrong.
After a long moment, she sighed softly, a sound that melted his heart, and said, “I have to go to work.”
Very reluctantly, Joe let his hands drop to his sides and stared at this beautiful girl before him, his long-time dream girl. “Niki, I--”
“Give me your hand.” He would have given her the world and his own life at that moment, so he held out his left hand to her. She took it in a soft grip and produced a pen. The tip tickled his palm as she wrote out ten digits: her phone number. “Call me later,” she said, “I get off work at nine.”
Joe twisted his hand to grab hers. “Wait. I don’t leave until tomorrow morning. Can I take you out for late dinner tonight?”
She blushed again and smiled. “Of course.” She stood looking at him, soft mouth smiling, hazel eyes making his heart ache.
He tugged gently on her hand and she came into his arms again without resistance. His face was so close to hers he could feel her warm breath on his chin. “I know you barely know me,” he said in a husky voice, “but can I--”
“Yes,” she answered, tipped her face up, and closed her eyes.
Slowly, careful to remember each precious moment, Joe placed his mouth gently over her sweet lips and kissed her, light as a breath of wind. Her arms went around his neck and she sighed. Against her mouth, through his tingling lips, Joe murmured, “I love you, Niki.”
She smiled against his mouth, threading her hands through his hair. She smiled and the smile, finally, finally, was for him.
Soo..... what do you all think? Review, review!
--Kat
