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seenoversundown · 3 months

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Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 3

Sam x Willa (Fem OC) Warnings: Cursing and some light bickering, otherwise a lot of bad luck.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit lighter on the word count, but take it as the calm before the storm 😉 (next week may or may not be a long one)

Boston - Augustana "I think I'll go to Boston, I think I'll start a new life I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather"

My blaring alarm clock jolts me from my sleep. It should be illegal to need to be awake at 4:30 a.m.; even Penelope lets out a little “boof” in protest. I rub my knuckles across my lids, trying to wipe away the sleep.

“You and me both, Penny girl.” I whisper into her fur, gently petting her face, “Rest a little longer, and then you get to go see Uncle Daniel.” Alas, I have a train to catch. I can't take the chance of driving Edith all the way to Boston. I don't even think she’d make it to Portsmouth at this rate.

Lethargy is so heavy in my bones as I drag my body to the shower. The scalding water helps to wake me up, but not enough. God, I need coffee. Regret fills me as soon as the water is off and the cold air attacks me once again.

After I quickly get dressed, I hustle through the rest of my morning routine, trying to ensure I stay on time. Finally, I wrap my scarf around my neck and knot it before slipping on my coat. “Okay, headphones, bag, camera, keys,” I mumble out loud, mentally checking things off my list. “Time.” 5:02am. At least I’m on time, calling out “Penelopeeee” in a sing-song tone. She comes running from around the corner, jumping up on me. “Woahh, down, girl.” I hook her leash onto her collar and lead her out the door, closing and locking it behind me.

It's only a short walk to Daniel’s apartment, and the morning air bites at my face. I pull my scarf up a little higher to cover the lower half of my face. My breath heats the fabric, a small salvation. Piles of snow where it had been plowed into snow banks still present, the sun not yet strong enough to melt it this time of year. Let alone this time of day. Penelope stops to sniff just about every flower she comes across, delaying my trip.

I march up the brick steps, and the porch light flicks on, allowing me better vision. The sun won’t make an appearance for another hour or so. I wrap my knuckles against the wooden door a few times before Daniel opens it. The sight of him causing me to chuckle.

“Good morning, sunshine.” giving him a beaming smile. If looks could kill, I would definitely be dead. Sweatpants slung low on his hips, fuzzy socks on his feet, no shirt on, and curls in complete disarray. He shivers when the breeze crosses the entryway.

“Of course, this is the one time you’re actually on time,” he whines. “Did you honestly have to leave so early?”

“Unfortunately for us both, Daniel, yes. There was only one train into Boston that would get me there on time, and I can’t be late for this. Miss Penny has already gone to the bathroom, so that should give you a few hours at least.” I hand him her leash and she enters the house. “As much as I would love to stay and chit-chat..” trailing off as I turn to head back the way I came.

“Come on, Penny girl, at least we get to have a cuddle. We’ll get out of Daddy’s hair so he can join the world of the employed.”

“Very funny, Asshole,” I call over my shoulder, flipping him off.

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If I was smart, I would have started Edith before I left to drop off Penny, giving her time to warm up and the frost to melt off the windshield; apparently, I have chosen the path of idiot this morning. I sit in the cab, turning the key repeatedly, and she won’t start. Panic rises in my chest, listening to the sound of the engine refusing to turn over.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I grunt out, “not today, not today.” I pause and take a deep breath, exhaling through my nose, creating a cloud in the chilly air. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” I turn the key once more, and her engine roars to life. Breathing a sigh of relief, I rest my head against the steering wheel, “oh, thank god.”

I speed off toward the train station, not wishing to waste any more time.

When I arrive, the train is already stopped, and boarding. “Oh fuck” I breathe out. Grabbing my bag and rushing to the platform, I nearly slip on a patch of ice before I make it. But I do make it. Just before the crew member shuts the doors. I breathe out a sigh of relief for the second time and find a seat in the back of the economy car I paid for, a double seat. The closer we get to the city, the busier it will get, and I don't want to have to worry about sitting near a bunch of passengers.

Jesus Christ that was cutting it too close. I wait for the train to start moving before I pull out my AirPods and put them in my ears. I scroll through my playlists looking for the right thing for this trip. Finally settling on a song, I click play. The song sounding muffled when I realize that it’s playing from my phone, shit. I turn the volume down as quickly as possible, trying to keep my eyes on my phone as I feel everyone around me look over. What is in the air today? Letting out a sigh as I pull my AirPods back out and place them back into their case. I drop my head back against the seat, close my eyes, and just listen to the sound of the train moving.

I jolt myself awake with a small gasp. Please tell me they didn’t leave me on the train, and now I’m in Canada or something. I tap on my phone, 7:55 a.m., Thank GOD. Only a few more minutes and the train is slowing into the station.

I finally make it off the train, and I’m trying to hustle through the station until I see a Dunkin sign glowing at me. My stomach grumbles as I look at it; I can grab something.. I’ll definitely make it still.

“Can I get a medium hot caramel swirl latte with oat milk and the bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel.. But no bacon, please?” Met with a simple ‘mhm’ from the cashier. I pull out my phone to pay, and seeing 8:10 a.m., my stomach feels nervous again.

It only takes a couple minutes before my name is called. I grab everything and practically run through the station to find the exit. I finally make it outside and check my maps to see where I’m going, grateful that it’s not too far from here. I slide my phone back into my pocket; I only need to walk a few streets down. I carefully pull the sandwich out of the bag, excited to eat something after the morning that i’ve had. Fuck me; I see the fleshy piece of bacon sticking out as soon as I peel the wrapper away from the bagel. I stare at it for a minute, trying to decide if it’s worth the hassle of pulling the bacon out. Deciding against it, god forbid it makes my stomach feel worse while I’m here, I toss the sandwich at the next trash can I pass and take a huge gulp of my latte, hoping it fills my stomach a little. Thankfully, my drink is perfect, and at this point, I’m going to take whatever win I can get. For the love of everything holy, I need the rest of today to go smoothly.

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The building is easy enough to find. I thank the lucky stars that at least one part of this journey wasn't difficult. I open the heavy metal door and head up the steps to the main floor toward the elevator. A plaque sits between the two elevators above the recall buttons. “Boston Globe - Floor 4 Suite 213.” I take a deep breath and press the arrow pointing up. I can feel the nerves in my belly, like butterflies buzzing around. Little wings flapping, sending gentle ripples of unease through me. I can’t mess this up. I have to make a good first impression. Working in conjunction with two major newspapers in different states is a big opportunity. It would put my name in the minds of people who could help me break into this job market. One I’ve been trying to work my way into since I graduated. This has to be it. The elevator dings, and my heart skips a beat, setting my nerves on edge even further.

Once the elevator arrives on the 4th floor, I step out looking for the closest suite number to gain my sense of direction. I solidify my bearings and head toward the right. A few doors down is 213. I open the door and the first person I see is a petite blonde woman. I scan the room; everyone is staring at me. Oh, this feels awkward.

“Hi, Can I help you?” her voice is high like I expected, but much quieter.

“Uhm, I’m looking for James Boucher with the Boston Globe?” My eyes dart back and forth between her and the rest of the people still looking at me. I wring my hands together, trying to satisfy my uneasiness.

“Oh, Jimmy is down the hall. They moved his office, and it hasn't been updated downstairs yet.” Just another thing to go wrong this morning, naturally. She walks over to me, places her hand on my arm, and points me down the hall. “It's suite 222. Also Call him Jim, not James and it's ‘bou-shay’ not ‘bou-sher’. He’ll like you 10 times more if you can get his name right. You’re gunna do great.” She says sweetly, squeezing my arm. “Good luck!”

“Thank you”

I walk down the hallway, pulling my phone from my pocket and double-checking the time. Still early. Thank god. Knocking on the door and twisting the handle ,I greet the front desk girl with a wave. A pretty brunette smiles back at me. Does everyone who works here have to be pretty?

“Hi, I’m here to meet with Jim Boucher. Am I in the right place?” I say nervously.

“You sure are, sweetheart.” Her southern drawl makes her that much more attractive to me. “What’s your name? I’ll get ya checked in.”

“Samuel Kiszka.” I lean against the counter, glancing down at her nameplate. She clicks a few buttons on her computer and then rises from her chair.

“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.” She extends her arm pointing us in the right direction.

“Sam is fine. Daisy is a very pretty name, by the way. Like the flower?” I ask, smiling gently at her. A blush forms on her cheeks. She drops her head a bit, I can no longer see her dazzling blue eyes. She’s much shorter than I am, even in her heels. I shorten my stride so she doesn’t have to work so hard to keep up.

“Thank you. I was named after my grandma, and she was named after the flower. Mamaw Daisy was the sweetest, just like her pie. Oh, she made the best apple pie I’ve ever had.” She looks up at me then, eyes bright and hands clasped together.

“I’ve been trying to replicate her recipe and I think I have it close. Uh, just this way.” She instructs us to take a left; the windows on the right cover the wall nearly floor to ceiling.

“Well, maybe I can try a slice sometime.”

She stops then and looks up at me. “Uhm, this is it,” pointing to the door.

“Thank you for the escort, Miss Daisy. I surely would have gotten lost without you.” She giggles and opens the door. The room is smaller than I anticipated. A few tables are set up with chairs. There are already a handful of people here.

“Hi, Mr. Boucher. This is Sam Kiszka. He’s here with the Portland Press Harold, from Maine.”

“Thank you, Miss Thompson, that will be all.” He waves his hand, dismissively. Her face drops a bit in disappointment. Before she closes the door, her eyes find mine with a small smile, which I match.

He doesn’t acknowledge me at all. His eyes never rise from his folder. Am I supposed to stand here or take a seat? No, I should definitely introduce myself.. Right? First impressions and all.

I gently clear my throat. “Sir?” Once again, he doesn’t move. I wait. When he finally finishes what he’s reading he looks at me.

“Sam Kiszka, Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, which he takes, apprehensively. He’s a man of few words from what I can tell, so I do my best to convey my character through a strong handshake. He nods at me and juts his head toward a table, motioning for me to take a seat. I’ll take that as a win.

As soon as I take my seat, a familiar face enters. Her short, brown bob was perfectly tucked behind one ear. Paired with her petite stature, it gave her a bit of an elf-like appearance. She played with the proportions of her outfit to look taller, wearing khaki-colored high-waisted slacks for height along with brown heeled boots, and a tan button-up sweater tucked in. A delicate blue pattern across the top accentuates her chest and gold necklaces worn in tiers to finish it off. She looked beautiful. Why is she here?

I watch her as she introduces herself to Jim, who doesn’t really glance at her either, which makes me feel a bit better before she takes a seat on the opposite side of the room. At least it’s not just me. Daisy catches my vision, and I can tell she’s taken notice of me staring at.. Her. I offer her another small smile before I watch her close the door and disappear once more.

“Alright,” Mr. Boucher announces, grabbing everyone’s attention. “As you all know, since you signed up for it, The Boston Globe is partnering with a few newspapers in New England. We want to run a feature on what makes each state in New England special. That’s where you all come in. There are 2 candidates from each state. That’s your partner for this project, so get used to them.”

Oh god. This experience is about to go from amazing to horrific for her as soon as she finds out I'm here.

“Presentations will be on Monday, so you have a few days to do what you gotta do. We’re working with the San Francisco Chronicle as well, which means that the 3 teams that best represent their state will be flying out there Tuesday. So, if you have plans next week, cancel them.”

Looks like Jake will have to find someone else to help cover the bar this week.

“Ah shit, let me take attendance.” He grumbles, searching for the correct paper on his desk. “Here we go, let’s start from the top with Maine - Willa Clarke?” my eyes immediately shoot over to her. Willa is a pretty name. It suits her.

“Here, sir,” she raises her hand. She tilts her head to the side in anticipation. The red undertones of her hair catch the light when she moves. Okay, Sam? Calm down.

“Great,” glancing down at his paper again. “Willa, your partner is.. Samuel Kiszka?”

Clearing my throat, “Uh Here.” I raise my hand. Her eyes finally meet mine, and immediately narrow.

Annnnd, there it is.

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A few hours and a lot of paperwork later and I’m sitting opposite Willa at a table in the cafe downstairs. She’s been glaring at me over the top of her latte for 10 minutes without saying a single word to me. Slowly sipping. Intently glaring. Not speaking.

I wait.

And then give in.

“Are you stalking me or something?” narrowing my eyes back at her.

“Excuse me?” Her incredulous look is not surprising.

“I mean, I go to the farmers market and you’re there. Poking me. I go to my brother’s bar and you’re there. Then I show up here and.. Oh yeah.. You’re here. Logical explanation would lead me to believe that you’re stalking me.” Curiosity becomes me as I wait for her answer.

“I feel like you’re failing to take into consideration a key piece of information here, Salmonella,” She says, piquing my interest. I debate if I should be offended by her use of a nickname or not and settle on the latter. Why let her get under my skin when I can get under hers?

“Aw yeah? What’s that, darling?”

“Okay.. ew.” disgust paints her face as she waves her hand out in front of her. “You speak as if you’re interesting enough to stalk.”

“Ah, such a blow to my ego,” Rolling my eyes dramatically. “Someone who spends her time jabbing strangers and yelling at them when they try to help her doesn’t think I’m interesting. Whatever will I do?” She scoffs loudly and crosses her arms, turning to face her body to the side toward the windows. “I should just roll over and cease to exist right now.”

“Help me? How have you tried to help me?” She asks in disbelief. Of course, she wouldn’t view my actions on Saturday as helpful. Or nice or kind in any capacity. I swear she's incapable of thinking I’m nice.

“When I told you not to bother with Chad Von Doucher-son, which you yelled at me for. Or when I offered you a drink on the house when he ditched you. A peace offering, again which you yelled at me for.”

She huffs. “What about you then?” Raising her eyebrows at me. “ Since we’re in all the same places or whatever. Are you stalking me?”

“Oh, I’m simply incapable of giving you that pleasure.”

A wicked laugh escapes her. “I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve said that to a woman. How about you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours?”

“Yes because a project in which we have to work together definitely calls for staying away from one another. Can you not pretend to tolerate me?”

“Must you ask so much of me?” She frowns intently, grabbing her purse and standing to push her chair underneath the table.

“When our careers ride on it, yes. Now play nice. No more school-yard insults.”

“Okay. Truce.. For now.. Samsquatch.”

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The rest of the day was filled with more paperwork, tours, and individual assignments, according to each home-based newspaper company. At the end of the day, knowing I have some time to kill before I have to catch my train, I stop by the front desk.

Daisy is sat with her head down looking over scheduling for the following week. I tap the counter with the pads of my fingers, the soft sounds calling for her attention. She greets me with that same wide smile. Yeah, she’s cute.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Daisy. And thank you for your help this morning,” I hold my hand out to her, and she places her dainty one gently in my palm.

“It was lovely to meet you too, Sam.” She giggles and a blush forms.

“I’ll see you next week for the presentation.” I bend down to place a kiss on her knuckles, causing her cheeks to redden even further. As I straighten I can hear ‘oh god’ behind me. I turn to see Willa standing there, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t waste your time, he’s insufferable.” She says to Daisy and storms off. I cannot believe she would do that. I know she isn’t exactly my biggest fan, but to try and cock-block me because she dislikes me is insane. I really haven’t done anything to her. How can someone you barely know have that strong of a vendetta against you?

I look back at Daisy, “Would you excuse me one moment.” I let out an awkward laugh. Before fully walking away, I stop, “Next week, pretty girl,” and give her a wink. When I leave she has a smile on her face. Successfully recovered.

I walk quickly through the hall down toward the elevator to catch up with Willa. Just as the doors start to close, I catch it and force it back open, boarding the elevator with her. Turning to her with my eyebrows raised and my arms crossed, I clear my throat.

“Can I help you?” Her eyes are locked in her phone.

“Just because you have shit luck with dates, doesn’t mean you have any right to try and ruin my chances at one.”

“Oh, please. You cannot subject her to that.”

“Subject her to what?”

“Sam, it’s actually less painful watching teenagers flirt. I’m begging you, if I’m going to have to witness your flirting through this whole experience, the least you could do is practice in the mirror a bit.” She sneers at me.

“Ya know,” I take a step closer to her until my chest is pressed against her shoulder, “I could always practice on you.” The slight intake of her breath almost goes unnoticed, almost.

“Oh god,” She lunges toward the button panel, repeatedly pressing the open door button. “Get me the hell out of hereeeee.”

Checkmate.

<- Chapter Two ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Chapter Four ->

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