Coffee on a Sunday

Author's Note: Random title for some random drabbles. I borrowed the drabble challenge from the JC boards- the object is to post a one hundred word drabble, no more, no less, based on each of the five prompts each week. This will probably be a lot of Wade/Zoe with some other characters thrown in, too. Please enjoy! :)

Week One: Zoe/Wade

Beginnings

His infuriating smirk lingered in her mind, provoking a never-ending chorus of why am I so stupid? Refusing to show her the fuse box, and oh, everyone knows Old Man Jackson memorized the eye chart. And now, there was no way he was going to let her forget her very wine induced lack of judgment (why am I so stupid?). She'd love to tell him just where to stick that smug, cocky attitude of his.

As if getting stuck in Bluebell wasn't bad enough already, of course she'd get stuck with the arrogant, generic beer swilling, electricity-stealing buffoon next door.

Middles

She couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes at his lopsided grin, his obvious enthusiasm.

Heat did not equal throwing caution to the wind. There was no such thing as a 'free pass'. In the real world, actions have consequences. Clearly, he didn't live in the real world, but a world of his own- probably full of generic beer- without caution or consequence.

She knew better.

Her heart beat a little faster, watching him. She studied the curve of his crooked smile, remembered the last time she'd felt that smile against her lips.

This was ridiculous. She knew better.

Ends

She had no idea.

The flash of concern across his expression, the way his arm darted out when his father- his father!- threatened to topple over the edge, all hiding behind an irritated eye roll, or one of those trademark lopsided grins.

She remembered the story she'd shared, used as an argument- and with him, of all people- a vision of her own mother after a few too many – or a lot too many- cocktails.

She studied his face. His arms were tense, his jaw hard, working with the melody, the rest of the crowd singing along, casual and nonchalant.

First

This was ridiculous. She was stuck hundreds of miles from home, living in a house- more like a shack- that would have made her mother cry, eating grits and everything fried, and now it was hardly 8:30 and she had no power.

Her life had spiraled so far out of control that she was going to be denied modern convenience? No chance.

Especially when the gatehouse was lit up like a Christmas tree, music- noise- pouring out the windows.

His lopsided grin, tousled hair and casual manner fueled her mood. This country cowboy's charm would not be working on her.

Last

She smothered a rising sense of guilt in her chest, focused on the cracks in the wallpaper, forcing her thoughts away from the quickening of her heartbeat as she daydreamed about his lips against hers, of his warm arms cradling her close.

She didn't allow herself these daydreams; the idea of them was absurd. Him, of all people…

And yet…there was the way he stayed with her through the night, the way he never failed to sing his father down from precarious rooftops each month. Had she written him off? What else was there about him that she didn't know?