***I've created a short playlist to listen to while writing this book, but it's only four songs long, so now I have the same four songs stuck in my head LOL***

***(Jay's POV)***

I have a feeling that if I don't get Nya to trust me soon, I'm never going to see her again after today. And that just isn't going to work.

I'm surprised she even agreed to come to my apartment, to be honest. I guess she realizes that anyone who returned her purse and made sure she didn't die in a train accident can't be that bad.

I finish bandaging up her wrists and give her elbow a pat. "All good."

"Thanks." She doesn't meet my eyes.

This is probably the point where I'm supposed to take her back to the café so she can get home and leave Ninjago City forever. I'm going to do everything in my power to stop that, though.

I clear my throat. "So..." I riffle through my list of conversation starters. "What movies do you like?"

"I typically don't watch movies or television," she admits. "When I'm not busy with work, I'm, uh..."

"Reading?" I help her.

"Exactly."

We both know she's also avoiding the police at every waking moment, but no need to dampen the mood.

I cough. "Speaking of reading, uh...would you...like to check out one of my books?" Not the one I wrote that's dedicated to her, but the other ones.

She shrugs. "Um, I really should be getting back home."

I scoff in mock offense. "I already called off work today for you. You're just going to leave me here with nothing to do?"

"You could do your homework or something. You were telling me about your midterm project earlier – the one about interviewing retired police officers. It wouldn't hurt to put in a few more hours on that, right?"

"I'm a chronic procrastinator." I shoot her my most winsome smile.

Her lips quirk a little, and she crosses her arms in front of her stomach. "I'm not the best company, Jay."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. I think you're really interesting, and I hate being alone, so even if you weren't interesting, we'd make things work. Uh, but the thing is, I just have a feeling you really are interesting – that was never in question for me – and...I guess I'm trying to say I'd like to get to know you better."

She gives me a skeptical look.

Well, I guess that came off well.

"What's so interesting about me, Jay?" she finally says, ending a tense silence. "Is it my life of blatant crime? I guess someone like you would find that very intriguing."

"No, no, no," I reassure her. "This – no, this isn't about that, Nya. I just – I really, really like you." I laugh nervously as the words pour out of my mouth. "And...I want to find out more about you." I take her fingers in mine, squeezing them.

Golly, I never thought I'd actually get this close to her. Nya's always lived in my fantasies, and aside from occasionally brushing her hand when I brought her drink to her at work, today's the first day I've ever touched her.

She looks down at our joined hands. "Why do you like me? We don't even know each other."

I want to spend the rest of my life figuring out who she is, though. "I just like you, Nya. I can't explain it." I give her one of my sweet 'I'm innocent' expressions that always works on my mom.

She blinks, then shakes her head, sighing and pulling away from me. "All right. I can stay for maybe an hour. Did you want to show me one of your books?"

"Oh, yeah!" I jump up off the couch, running over to my kitchenette counter and grabbing my laptop. "Thanks for doing this. Can I get you anything while I'm up?"

"Um, if you have bottled water, I'd love some."

"I don't buy it by the bottle – I'm not the best with finances, but I try to save a little where I can. Um, but I can get you a glass." I open my cupboard to pull out a glass for her, then fill it at the sink. I juggle my laptop in one hand and her beverage in the other as I head back over to the couch.

She takes the water from my hands, setting it on the floor beside her without another look. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I settle in next to her, grabbing a throw blanket and tucking it around my legs. I hold up the other end of the blanket for her, offering her a questioning glance.

She debates for a moment, then grabs a throw pillow, sets it between us, and pulls the duvet over her lap.

Well, she's warming up to me. But if I want to have any chance of seeing Nya again after this, she'll need to trust me a lot more by the end of our visit.

I sign into my laptop and pull up the latest book I was working on, then set my computer down between us. She has to lean in to see the screen, and though she's a bit wary at first, she relaxes when I tuck myself into the far corner of the couch.

"So, this is, um, something new I started." I scratch the back of my head nervously. "It's my personal favorite so far."

She squints. "It's written in epistolary style."

Oh, my gosh, I'm geeking out. "You know what epistolary style is?!" I exclaim.

"Just because I almost flunked out of school doesn't mean I didn't pay attention to what I wanted to hear. I was always a fan of literature class."

"Oh, I wasn't implying anything about your education by what I said," I rush to reassure her. "I was just excited. Most people don't know what epistolary style is. I don't think a lot of people even know there's a style for telling a story through notes or letters between characters."

"I do." She scrolls down on my laptop, silent as she reads.

She's freaking the heck out of me. I don't know what she's thinking. Does she like what I've written? Is it too classic? Not classic enough? I knew I should've written in Old English.

"Do you mind if I edit something really quick?" she asks. "You used the wrong form of 'your' here."

"Oh, yeah, of course." I swallow hard. "It's a mess, isn't it? I should probably go back and rewrite the whole thing. Or scrap the idea entirely – I mean, there are so many questions at the beginning, anyone who reads it is going to be confused, and..."

"No, it's good. It's not confusing, it's intriguing." She looks up. "Do you mind if I read it out loud? That way, I can comment as I go."

"Oh, be my guest." I breathe out a sigh of relief at her praise.

"Okay." She clears her throat and begins to read.

"October 22nd, 1993.

Dear Liz,

All I can say is that you're stupid."

Nya giggles. "Sounds like a romance to me."

"Oh, um, yeah." I chuckle, running my hands through my hair.

She smiles at me, then looks back at the laptop, continuing on.

"Dear Liz,

All I can say is that you're stupid. You're stupid for cheating on me, stupid for leaving, stupid for not telling me that your pregnancy test was positive. You're stupid for thinking you were justified in dragging my heart through burning coals. You're stupid for never apologizing, for thinking that I should be the one to apologize. And you're really stupid for what you put our baby through.

"But you're nowhere near as stupid as me, because somehow, I still love you.

"You left me with the aftermath of our relationship. I now see our six-year-old son off to the bus every morning and clean Cheerio crumbs out of the carpet before work. I trip over toy cars in the middle of the night. Have you ever heard of LEGO bricks? Ever stepped on one? It hurts almost as much as your betrayal.

"But the truth is, nothing can cut that deep.

"It's not all bad, you know? In fact, I'm glad I'm the one with our son. For one, you're actually crazy, and I'm thankful he's spent the past four and a half years with me instead of your dingy shack on the bad side of town. I'm sure he saw things no child ever should there, and because you never gave him the right attention, he's developmentally challenged.

"I mean, you were depressed, so I can't blame you for giving him up to me. I thank you for it. I'd much rather him be safe with me than...not safe with you.

"The second reason I'm glad for our son is that he's the sweetest, silliest, most lovable person I've ever met. I don't know where he got that from – it sure wasn't one of us. Everyone at the facility I take him for cognitive and behavioral therapy loves him. And let me tell you, he loves them just as much – especially when said love comes out in the form of candy or – "

Nya stops reading abruptly as I hear a knock on the door, her facial expression freezing.

She probably thinks it's the police coming for her.

I pat her arm. "I can't imagine it's anyone here for you, Nya. No worries. I'm sure it's just my landlord complaining about my junk collection again. I'll be back in a sec, okay?"

"It's fine." She looks back down at the story on my laptop.

I swivel my feet off the couch and rise, padding over to the door. I open the peephole, just in case it somehow is the police and I need to stall while Nya escapes.

Okay, so I'm a criminal justice major, but I'm on her side in this. I mean, I do plan on marrying her someday.

I look through the peephole and groan. "No, no, no. This – why now?"

"What is it?" Nya asks, on high alert.

"It's not the authorities," I sigh. 

 It might be worse.

 I swallow. "It's...my parents."

***Surprise! Ed and Edna have decided to pay Jay a visit. I wonder how THAT will go.***