Feel

Amy had finally grown the courage to submit two job applications: one to the Pittsburgh Times, and one to the Pittsburgh Oracle, which both included a sample of her written works. She had attached one of her favourite pieces to each, a little blurb on life in Pittsburgh. She was absolutely terrified.

She hadn't told anyone; not Paul, not Elizabeth... No one. She didn't need the extra pressure.

One of the awaited emails finally appeared in her inbox, seven days after her interview.

From: Pittsburgh Oracle

Amy took a deep breath before opening it. She closed her eyes, counting to ten before opening them.

Her heart sank at the first words.

I'm sorry, Amy.

She almost didn't continue.

I'm sorry, Amy, this isn't what we're looking for. It's a bit amateur for our company.

The words replayed in her mind, over and over. She was absolutely devastated. Too amateur for our company. What did that even mean? She had actually thought she had been good at something, and had finally given it a shot, only to be shot down.

Amy was a writer. All she wanted was to work with a newspaper; columns, articles... She'd be happy with anything. But it seemed nobody was happy with her. She knew she had another chance with the Times, but after receiving the first email, she felt sick. She was heartbroken.

She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling as small tears trickled down her cheeks, when she heard the doorbell ring. She felt like she had been lying there for hours. She groaned, knowing that she had to get up. Paul had told her an important package was coming in the mail, and she had to sign it if it came while they were out. She didn't want anyone seeing her in her current state, but she tried to convince herself that this was someone she would more than likely never see again. She headed down the stairs, wiping her eyes, and took a deep breath before opening the door. She immediately wished she hadn't.

"Hey."

She looked up into James' smiling face, and tried to smile back. But as soon as she mumbled a quiet hello and his deep blue eyes searched her face, her facade faltered and her voice cracked. She lifted her hand to cover her face as she began to cry again.

"Amy?" James sounded alarmed. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His arms were around her in a second, and he pulled her in flush against his chest without a second thought. Amy cried into James' chest silently. His sweater was soft against her cheek, and the warmth of his body was comforting. He rubbed her back soothingly, murmuring calming words against her hair. After a moment, when Amy had managed to calm herself down again, she came to a sudden realization. This was the closest her and James had ever been, physically. The thought made her heart race, and she gently pried herself away.

"Hey, what's up?" James gazed down at her. She let her eyes flicker to his for a moment, and all she saw was concern. She bit her lip, letting out a tiny hiccup of a sob before crossing her arms. She shook her head, trying to decide if she wanted to tell him or not. It was embarrassing.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment before James' hand reached around and gently touched her lower back. He guided her into the living room, his hand resting on her back the entire way. They sat down on the couch, and Amy took a deep breath. She stared at the floor, her vision blurred.

James finally spoke. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?" His voice was full of concern, and it tugged at her heart strings.

Amy looked down at the floor. Her knees were curled up onto the couch. As she tried to figure out if she wanted to tell him, she felt tears begin to well up again. She felt James' eyes on her face, and after a few seconds of keeping it together, she could feel her face begin to falter again.

James pulled her into him again automatically, his arms wrapping all the way around her. He didn't know if he was crossing boundaries, but he hardly gave it a second thought.

Her head was on his chest, and he rested his chin on top of her hair. She cried again, unable to stop, even though she was embarrassed. When she settled down, she sat up a bit, slowly. One of James' hands fell to his knee, while the other stayed wrapped around her. He pulled her in against his side, and they sat there in silence. The feel of James' arm around her made her feel fuzzy and warm and terrified all at once. As she leaned against him, she relished the feeling of his body beside hers. It was a strange comfort, having him so close. She was a giant, crazy whack of emotions, and she knew it.

"I'm sorry," she finally managed. James' only response was pulling her even closer. "Its... Complicated," was the best she could come up with.

James nodded. "You don't have to tell me."

Amy inhaled a deep breath, biting down on her lip. After a few seconds of indecision, the words began to tumble out of her mouth.

Instead of telling her she was incredible or that it "wasn't meant to be", James simply listened and held her close. When she finished, he scratched his jaw, shaking his head.

"Feeling like you're not good enough is the worst feeling in the world," was the first thing he said. And, strangely enough, that was all Amy needed to hear. That somebody understood.

***

"Why are we here?" James whined from behind her. It was a week or so after Amy's meltdown, and they were in Home Depot. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why. Amy merely rolled her eyes and kept walking, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to find what she was looking for. She beamed when her eyes fell on the object, and she turned to James triumphantly. He stared at her, eyebrow raised.

Amy grinned. "Okay. You know that empty space in the hallway by your front door?" James nodded, still not completely following. "Picture this table along the wall."

James' eyes moved from the girl to the long, wooden table in front of them. It was narrow and made of pure oak. He tried to envision what she had described, and his eyebrows raised, his lips pulling up into a smile.

"Yeah, I can definitely see it there."

Amy beamed triumphantly. "I was here the other day and I fell in love with it," she said as she walked over and ran her fingers along the wood. "I thought of that boring space right away."

James watched her, a smile on his lips. "Do you just daydream about decorating my place?"

Amy glanced back at him, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "You have a nice house, that's all," she muttered. James chuckled.

"Alright. Ready to go buy this thing?"

***

"How about here?" Amy stood on her tiptoes, holding a picture frame up against the white wall. She was at James' house a few days later; the table had just been delivered, and Amy was helping James finish the look of the wall.

She analyzed the frame, tilting the sides ever so slightly until she was satisfied that it was straight. She turned to James for his opinion, and found him staring at her. He hastily looked away, getting off the stool and nodding. Amy felt her cheeks heat up and turned back to the picture as he approached. "Um," she cleared her throat. "I was thinking just a bit higher up, though." She was painfully aware of how close he was behind her, and her mind instantly flashed back to the day he had found her crying.

James reached in front of her and gently took the photo in his hands. She moved over and he took her spot, stepping forward and holding the frame up a bit higher. "There?"

"Bit more." He glanced down at her, noting how cute she looked when she was thinking. This time, Amy didn't notice him staring.

***

A few days later, and the team was away on another road trip - while Amy awaited the second email from the Times anxiously. She didn't want to get her hopes up. James had been reminding her every day to just deal with it when it happened, but it was easier said then done. And when she did finally receive the message, it wasn't what she had been hoping for at all.

***

"Hello?" His deep voice rang through the phone, and Amy swallowed the lump in her throat. She was upset, but she was grateful that she wasn't crying this time.

"James?"

Pause. Amy bit her lip. He was probably confused as to why she was calling, and she waited until he spoke. "Yeah, what's up?"

She couldn't help but blurt it out. "I got rejected again." There was silence again on the other end of the line, and Amy began to ramble. "I'm sorry," she blurted, her tone desperate. "But nobody else knows. Please just... Just talk to me. Tell me about your day. Please." She inhaled a shaky breath. "Just talk. Or hang up. I don't..." Amy inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know. I'm sorry..."

How could she explain to him that he had been the only one she wanted to talk to? That simply hearing his voice made her day better? How could she possibly explain the way she was feeling?

James could hear the trembling in her voice. She sounded broken, and it pulled on his heart strings.

He thought for a second. "Did you watch the game?"

Amy was surprised at first at the change of topic, before she smiled a bit. "Yeah."

"That was one of the hardest games we've played this entire season," James explained. "I was so relieved when Geno tipped it in. Staalsy yelled so loud beside me on the bench I was sure I'd lost hearing in that ear."

She laughed, and James felt a smile grow on his lips at the sound. "It was a nice goal," she agreed. She could hardly believe how easily he could make her feel better. He couldn't fix her problems, but it seemed as though he knew just what to say or do to make her forget about them for a while. As she listened to him talk, she couldn't help but think of everything she felt towards the tall, blue eyed man.

And it terrified her.