Day 2: 4, 016 words and the introduction of Matthew Knies... I mean Jake Kneiss

I wrote from the road yesterday to great effect. By that I don't mean that I wrote something great-- I wrote the required word count. 

Anyway, here is the love interest: Matthew Knies. I mean... Jake Kneiss. 

“What happened here?” a man’s voice broke through her mental walls. She turned to look up at the man who was towering over her as she sat on the bench. 

She was immediately stunned by the man’s handsome face. His blue grey eyes were piercing, like the view of Lake Huron from the dock on a quiet morning. His hair was a light brown, and brushed back mid-way down his neck. He was wearing dark blue jeans, fashionable sneakers, and a white cotton henley. 

He was stunning. Stunning in a very familiar way. 

“Jake?” Scottie said, shocked to see him in the flesh after so many years. Jake Kniess, from high school. Jake Kniess, her perpetual crush who she had the amazing luck of being paired up with as a dissections lab partner in grade 11 biology. Jake Kniess, who actually hadn’t been a dissections lab partner because he was playing for the London Knights, the Ontario Hockey League team. Jake Kniess, who had been drafted by, and had played for, the Toronto Maple Leafs. Jake Kniess, who Scottie knew had gotten injured two years ago and had left the game to coach for his hometown London Knights instead. 

She hadn’t seen him since high school, unless you counted the many Toronto Maple Leafs games that she had attended over the years. Unfortunately she wasn’t rich enough to sit close enough for the ice for Jake to notice her. Not that she had ever had that specific thought or anything. 

Jake looked at Scottie for what felt like a million seconds, clearly trying to place her. She could have cried with relief when a flicker of recognition passed across his face. 

“Scottie,” he said, a wide smile breaking out across his face. She was relieved that he still recognized her, after all this time. Her face had changed in the fifteen years since she had graduated high school, although she still firmly believed that she was spry for her age. 

Scottie did a mental check of her appearance, hoping that today happened to have been a day where she made herself presentable. Fortunately, the fact that she had gone into the office earlier that day meant that she was dressed fashionably in navy slacks, light brown loafers, and a white linen sleeveless top. Her dark brown hair was curled past her shoulders, and had stayed that way because the summer humidity hadn’t hit yet. 

“If I told you that there had been a fire in the Wortley Road Café, would that be new information for you?” Scottie smiled back. 

“It would not,” Jake said, visibly surveying the team of fire trucks and firefighters still milling around. “I know that you carried me as a lab partner in high school biology, but I don’t think I was that bad,” he laughed. 

Scottie laughed along with him. 

“Did you manage to pick up any other details? Perhaps some less obvious ones?” he asked. “I just got home from work. Saw all the rescue vehicles and thought I should come and make sure things were okay. Things aren’t okay, not really, but I’m glad the fire is out.”

“Yeah, they were able to put it out pretty quickly, fortunately. I was here when the fire started, but I don’t think I saw anything important or helpful,” Scottie said, playing the details over in her head yet again. “I was out for a walk, and was standing right about here when I started to smell burning. Then smoke started pouring out of the café, and I started to see flames. I called 911, and firefighters were here a few minutes later. I didn’t see them bring anyone out. I don’t think anyone was in there. Thank god.”

“It was closed,” Jake said, more to himself as reassurance that everything was okay than as information for Scottie.

“It was,” Scottie agreed. They both surveyed the damage from the fire. The fire had been brief, but it had moved quickly. The café had blessedly not been connected to any other restaurants or shops, like many of the establishments along Wortley Road were. It was unrecognizable from what it had been just an hour before. It wasn’t completely razed, but it would clearly all have to be rebuilt.

“I had just gotten coffee there this morning,” Jake said, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“So you live around here?” Scottie asked. 

“I do. Just moved back. I’m over on Askin,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction that both of them knew Askin Street was. 

“Oh really?” Scottie said, pretending that she didn’t know everything about his hockey career and where he had been living for his entire career.

“Are you still here?” 

“No, I’m in Toronto. Been there since university.” 

“I used to live in Toronto,” he said, rubbing his hands along his jaw. She could hear the quiet sound of his fingers sliding along his short stubble, one of the biggest differences on his face from when she used to try not to stare at it in biology class. His sculpted jaw was a work of art. To say that it was chiseled felt wrong, because it would imply that any man-made tools could create something so beautiful. Maybe you could say that it was chiseled by gods who broke the mold after they perfected jawlines. It was so sharp, it looked like you could use it to slice some cheese to make a nice polenta lasagne. 

Scottie was reminded once again how important it is to have a filter. She was glad that she hadn’t said any of that out loud—especially the part about the polenta lasagne.

 

“I really hope that I don’t sound like a creep when I say that I know that you used to be in Toronto,” Scottie laughed. “I think that everyone knows that. Go Leafs go.” 

“Fair enough,” he said. “I try not to assume that people know things about me. It’s easy to get a big head when you’re in the NHL, especially when you’re in Toronto and you can’t get on the subway without people taking pictures of you and posting them online.”

“I can’t relate, but I believe you,” Scottie reassured him. “Do you like being home?”

...

“I’m here for work, actually. Would you believe that I’m here to write about the three—now four—fires in Wortley Village?”

“Well it sounds like you’ve had a front row seat.”

“It’s been a little too exciting, to be honest.”

Being on the scene for yet another suspicious fire in what could now definitely be defined as a string of suspicious fires was certainly exciting. Not to mention seeing her high school crush and former Toronto Maple Leaf Jake Kneiss in person. People often say that a pair of pants are doing someone a favour, but that sentiment didn’t feel quite right. His ass was doing the pants the favours, no question. 

“A little excitement never hurt anyone,” Jake replied, throwing Scottie a wink.

A wink. She was floored. 

“Unless that excitement is a fire,” Scottie shot back, grinning.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. Of course you’re right,” Jake’s ears turned a little red. “The fact that the best coffee shop in the neighbourhood just burned down isn’t going to help me to be any sharper,” he lamented. 

“You’re doing just fine. And you weren’t a bad lab partner, either,” Scottie said, winking back. 

She couldn’t believe that she winked. She had never unironically winked at anyone. 

“It was nice to see you, Jake. Take care.”

“I hope the rest of your trip is boring,” Jake said, heading towards where Scottie now knew that he lived. 

Scottie had a feeling that this trip was about to be anything but boring. 

And she was right.