Charmed Life

He had a fist raised, like he was about to knock, but when I opened the door, he took an automatic step back. He took a moment to register the situation. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Gee. Who knew James Neal was so observant? “How rude of me,” I replied dryly. “Clearly, it’s your only one,” I waved a hand at his half nakedness.

“And here I thought you only took orange juice.”

“I’m borrowing it, I didn’t bring any shirts,” I snapped.

“But you packed?” He faked sincerity, frowning a little.

“Not very well, it turns out.”

He regarded me carefully. “I came to get a shirt. That one, actually. But since you’re wearing it, I guess I’ll have to pick another one.” He had that same, I-know-I’m-cute cocky grin on his face. Like he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t be doing.

I looked down at the plain grey shirt that barely reached my thighs. Then I looked back at him. Even in the dim light, I could make out the lines that separated his torso and chest. His white mesh shorts hung low on his hips, creating a V that pointed south of where I should be looking.

Quickly, I found his eyes and frowned. I didn’t like the trail my thoughts were traveling down. Or the trail my eyes were following.

Without saying anything, I turned around and headed for the closet where the drawers were with all of his tees. Just before I reached the door, I pulled the shirt up and over my head. I was in nothing but my tiny boy shorts, and normally, I’d be super self-conscious. But I didn’t care. I wanted to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. I didn’t look back, but I knew that did the trick. I quickly found another shirt and slipped that on.

Coming back out, I picked up the grey shirt and made my way back to him. Wordlessly, I held it out to him, and he took it. He put it on, not taking his eyes off of me, and I didn’t break eye contact with him. I was a little sad to see the shirt on, but his silent surprise and wide eyes were priceless.

“Happy?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Anything else?” I raised my eyebrows, expectant.

“Yes, I was going to go get breakfast, and wanted to know if you wanted to come with.”

“Breakfast? You go out for breakfast?” Geez. That seemed more like a hassle than a luxury.

“Well, no, not really. I walk next door, and Paul… um… cooks me breakfast,” he answered slowly, frowning as he admitted his morning habit.

“You walk over to your friend Paul’s house, and he cooks you breakfast?” I repeated.

He got defensive. “He’s a teammate! It’s like a ritual. Besides, he always makes too much anyway!”

“So you’re helping him? By going over there for breakfast?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

I shook my head, incredulous.

“Wait a second.” I closed the door and pulled on my jeans, tugging his loose shirt in front. When I opened the door, he was still there.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” I declared. “I’m sure I can find something edible in your fridge.”

“You would know,” he called, following me. “You’ve been in there.”

…..

I sat on the kitchen stool, fiddling with my too long hair and watching James shovel the last of his breakfast into his mouth. I’d just used his phone to call Hayden, and now I just had to wait.

“So what are we going to do about this?” He asked after a huge gulp of water.

“We’re not doing anything,” I answered. “I just called my friend, and he’s picking me up.”

James frowned. “Where are you going to stay?”

“With that same friend,” I replied, almost shuddering at the thought of Rebecca’s reaction to this very recent development. “Until I find somewhere else to live.”

“My offer stands, you know?” James said casually, setting his glass down. “I’ll even accept breakfast and stuff as a form of payment.”

I rolled my eyes. “And stuff?” I asked. I knew he was kidding from his nonchalance, but underneath it was an actual offer.

James shrugged. “Like lunch?”

There was a knock on the door then, and shaking my head at him, I got up.

Hayden did not look pleased to see me, and after very curt and too polite introductions, I thanked James and left.

Hayden barely let me put my seat belt on. “What the hell were you doing in his house?”

I thought about this question. There was no way I could leave out the part about me getting arrested without implications of why I’d spent the night at James’. Hayden was upset enough about me breaking into James’ house. But if I didn’t, then Hayden would think I was there by choice, and not because of my lack of one.

I decided to stick to the truth. It was supposed to set me free, right?

“I got arrested and James helped me out.”

“You WHAT?!” Hayden exploded, glaring at me from the driver’s side.

Shit. If this was what free felt like, then I sure as hell didn’t like it.

“It was just a big misunderstanding and if it weren’t for James, then I’d probably –”

“Misunderstanding?” Hayden repeated incredulously. “A misunderstanding is autocorrect changing duck to dick or… or… Rebecca thinking I read Fifty Shades of Grey because you left it at my place. Getting arrested is not a misunderstanding!”

“Calm down, Hayden. Okay? James came and bailed me out and it’s not even that big a deal...”

Hayden scoffed. “Not that big a deal… Unbelievable.” He pulled up into a parking spot in front of the posh townhouse that he lived in. The student townhouses were about five minutes from campus, and Hayden shared his with two other guys, all of whom were in his band. Living with them, no matter how temporary, would prove to be a constant ruckus.

I sighed. “Thanks for taking me in, really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I reached across my seat and gave him a hug that he reluctantly returned.

“Let’s be honest, you’d be in jail,” he responded.

I laughed. “It honestly wasn’t that bad.”

Hayden looked worried all of a sudden. “Well, not as bad as Rebecca’s gonna be when she finds out.”

We piled out of the car and I grabbed my bag, which I’d repacked after stopping by my dinky apartment on the way here.

I let out a deep breath as we made our way up the steps. “Can. Not. Wait.”

…..

“Lanie! How’s your mic?” Hayden snapped at me. I’d been thinking about James constantly for the past several weeks, and I still couldn’t make my mind up about him. Hayden’s voice brought me back to the present, and I tapped my mic as the feedback squealed noisily.

I glanced back at the other members of Hayden’s band. Chris was on the piano, and he smiled reassuringly at me. Eric tapped his foot absentmindedly as he winked at a row of girls sitting close to the stage. This was their first ever gig, courtesy of me. It was the least I could do, since they’d pretty much let me live with them rent free for the past two weeks.

It wasn’t easy. I’d given Josh a demo and I’d had to beg like crazy, but he eventually agreed, as long as they only did covers and left out original songs about “bitches and booze.”

“But that’s, like, all of our songs,” Eric had argued when I repeated Josh’s conditions.

I just shrugged, taking a seat on the overstuffed love seat in the basement, also known as the Music Cave. The boys were all in their position. “Josh doesn’t think the customers would appreciate it.”

“That’s bullshit, Lanie. Bitches Love Booze is a classic,” Eric said adamantly. He shook his floppy brown hair out of his eyes and set his drumsticks down.

“Yeah!” Chris chimed in, starting to sing. “Booze booze bitches booze booze bitches…”

“Okay, okay, hold on guys,” Hayden interjected. “Josh was nice enough to let us play, so I think we should just do covers… for now.”

I frowned at Hayden. No way he’d give in that easily. He had to have something planned.

“Man, don’t give in to the system!” Eric whined. I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. I did. Because they’d all been so nice to me. But I had to agree with Josh on this one.

“See, what I was thinking was…” Hayden continued. Here we go. “… was that Josh loves Alayna, and if she sang some of our songs, then he’d be okay with it.”

“Oh no…” I snapped. “No, no, no. I refuse to sing any songs with either ‘booze’ or ‘bitch’ in the title. Sorry boys, but no can do.”

That caused a cacophony of noise from them, and I knew I’d already lost that argument.

“It’s fine,” I answered Hayden, strumming the borrowed bass. He stood next to me, his own guitar in hand, smiling at the crowd. His blonde hair and blue eyes did more for the band than his actual musical abilities. We were all on stage at the back of The Grille. I didn’t know why I had agreed to do this. I was going to make a fool of myself.

Yes, I do, actually. It’s because they’d been so nice to me. Besides Rebecca, I’d felt more than welcomed at the townhouse, and if I had to sing a song about 'fucking and acquiring currency', then I’d do it.

It didn’t hurt that I was getting paid even though I wasn’t waiting tables. After I did a cover of “A Thousand Miles,” I was feeling good and confident. Everyone cheered and clapped and I didn’t sound half bad.

And then he walked in.

I hadn’t seen him since the night I got arrested, but here he was now. He had on a light grey tee and dark jeans that sat just right. A Pirates hat hooded his eyes, but he looked up and caught mine, and I swear my stupid heart missed a beat. Either that or I was suffering from a myocardial infarction.

He sat alone at the bar, nursing a beer and chatting with Ben as I covered a Lifehouse and then a Yellowcard song. The crowd cheered, but I was watching James, who was watching me.

“Alayna!” Hayden hissed. “Bitches in the Club, okay?”

I nodded without taking my eyes off of James.

Fuck. I couldn’t do it. Not in front of him. There was no way in hell.

“Hayden, I cant. You do it!” I hissed back, and then I sprinted off the stage and headed for the kitchen. I heard the beginning twang and thrum of the song, and knew Josh would be out in a hot second to stop them.

Grabbing a rag and Windex, I headed to the downstairs bathrooms. After wiping all the mirrors and ignoring everything else, I headed out of the women’s bathroom and found James waiting for me by the stairs.

“Hey,” he greeted, taking a step forward.

“Hi,” I replied cautiously, stopping in my tracks.

“How’s living with your friend?” He asked, nodding towards the next floor, both hands in his pockets. I could hear Josh yelling and Hayden screaming something incoherently.

Did James get better looking since I’d last seen him? Some people grew on you the longer you knew them, but he looked… different. Better than that first night, and better than that last night that I’d gotten arrested. If that was even possible.

“It’s good,” I answered quickly. “Besides the band practicing till one in the morning. And the psycho girlfriend…”

“Psycho girlfriend?”

“Long story,” I mumbled.

James took a deep breath, and then launched into what sounded like a very rehearsed speech. “I was thinking, you should just live with me, and pay rent and everything, if you want. But you don’t have to. It sounds like you’ve worked really hard for everything you have, and I just want to help.”

His grey eyes searched mine earnestly, and I frowned. He really just wanted to help. I could see it. What was the harm? We’d just be roommates.

It wasn’t like he was interested. He had plenty of opportunities already. If anyone was going to try anything, it was me. I blushed at the memory of my indecency while taking his shirt off.

If this happened, then I’d have to be careful.

“I can pay rent?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, as if appeasing me. “How’s 50 a month?”

“No way,” I argued. “200.”

“Fine.”

“No, wait, 100.”

He chuckled. “100 it is.”

“And housework.”

“Light housework. If you feel like it.”

I smiled, sticking a hand out. “Deal.”

“Deal.” He said, and shook my extended hand.

“You're the worst negotiator ever.”

He grinned, shrugging. “You drive a hard bargain.”