My blood approves

Jack arrived promptly at six-thirty, washing away any feelings of guilt or trepidation. Normally when I wait for someone to pick me up, I turn into a neurotic mess and I’m positive they’re going to stand me up. For some reason, I didn’t feel that way at all. As soon as I saw him, I just felt at ease and vaguely contented. There was definitely something drawing me towards him, something I couldn’t explain.

“Hey,” Jack smiled broadly at me when I hopped into his car.

“Thanks,” I replied. “For all this.”

“All what?” Jack looked confused as we pulled away from my house, speeding quickly down Washington towards the club that The Matches was playing at.

“The ride, the tickets, saving my life,” I elaborated, and he laughed his amazing laugh again.

“Oh, that,” he teased. “It’s really not a problem. Trust me.”

“Just because it wasn’t a problem for you doesn’t me that I’m not grateful,” I pointed out.

“Fair enough,” Jack allowed. “Well, you’re welcome then.”

Parking downtown should’ve been impossible, but he managed to find a spot half a block away. It was obvious that he could walk much faster than I could, but he kept his pace to match mine, making me feel guilty for holding him up. It was almost seven when we reached the door, and I knew part of the problem was because I was slowing us down. I started to apologize, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

By the time I saw the crowd of kids inside, I had already resigned myself to being unable to catch sight of the band onstage. Girls gaped at him, and the crowd almost seemed to part for Jack. He took my hand to weave us through the people that hadn’t really moved, and there was something very odd about his touch. His skin was neither hot nor cold. It just felt… temperature-less. Although his skin was tremendously soft, it reminded me of a lizard. The way they can’t regulate their temperature at all, so they’re always whatever temperature the room is or whatever’s touching them.

We made our way up pretty close to the stage, but thanks to my height, it did me little good. When the band came out and the crowd rushed forward, I ended up with my head smooshed into the yellow tee shirt of the guy in front of me. Somehow, Jack managed to stand his ground, creating a little pocket of unmashedness. He immediately noticed my predicament, and rather deftly, he scooped me up and put me on his shoulders, so my legs were straddling his neck. Suddenly, I became very conscious of the fact that I weighed something over a hundred pounds (the exact amount is irrelevant) and that had to be heavy. Hell, fifty pounds sounded heavy when its sitting on your shoulders, but Jack had lifted me like I was a small child and dropped me easily onto his shoulders.

“Let me know if I get too heavy,” I shouted near his ear to be heard over the music.

Initially, I considered demanding that he put me down, but I was kind of excited to be able to actually see a concert for the first time. Plus, I had a feeling he wouldn’t comply, especially since he’d been able to lift me with such ease.

“You won’t!” Jack yelled back, and I knew that was true.

I could actually feel his muscles under my legs, and while they didn’t seem all that impressive, he was somehow incredibly strong. I thought back to the night we had met, and the way he had appeared to blur with speed. The hooligans chasing us had looked like they were being thrown in the air, but these had been guys that were much larger than Jack. At the time, I had assumed that my eyes were just playing tricks on me, but when Jack picked me up, it was as if I weighed nothing. Either I had greatly underestimated his strength, or there was something else going on here. Jack was very quickly become one giant enigma.

Throughout the entire show (which was spectacular) he never faltered or even hinted at putting me down. When the crowd started to disperse, I was still on his shoulders, and I could feel his urge to carry me out. Instead, carefully, he lifted me up off his shoulders and set me on the ground.

“Holy cow!” I exclaimed after he’d put me down. “You must eat like a double dose of Wheaties every day!”

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, looking at me like I was insane.

“You’re super strong!” Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his bicep, trying to feel some massive amounts of hidden muscle, but honestly, it felt pretty ordinary.

“You’re just really light,” Jack shrugged. He started walking away, attempting to end that line of conversation, but I hurried after him.

“What’s your angle?” I asked, trying to sound more playful than demanding.

“Isosceles,” Jack quipped.

“What?” If Milo had been there, he probably would’ve understood the reference, but geometry wasn’t my thing.