Charmed Life

“He got you an iPhone?” Hayden is in awe as he drives me to work from campus. I’ve had the entire week off, thanks to Josh. School’s been so hectic that this is the first time that I’ve seen Hayden. I am trying to give him my number, but he keeps trying to play with the phone while driving.

“Yeah,” I answer, keeping my eyes on the road since Hayden is failing to do so.

“The five or four? I wanna compare them. Lemme take out my four –”

“That’s not the point,” I snap, giving him a dirty look. “The point is that he’s treating me like some charity case and –”

“No, Alayna,” he interrupts me. “You’re the one who doesn’t see the point here. This is better than what we thought before. I mean, charity case is much better than mail-order-bride or live in sl–”

“I get it!” I cringe at his terms. “But still. The fact that he’s using me is a little insulting.”

“I doubt he is. I mean, he is helping you out. Nothing wrong with helping him out a little in return.”

I roll my eyes. Hayden has warmed up to James quickly. He swears it’s because James has taken me out of a crime filled neighborhood and now Hayden doesn’t have to worry about me getting raped anymore. But I have a feeling it’s more because James gets him center ice seats to any game he wants.

“Wow,” I gush. “Thanks for the support.”

He just grins, and finally returns his gaze to the road ahead.

…..

There’s a game on tonight, so I’ve been running around, delivering beers and cocktails and wings. It’s weird, seeing James on television like everyone else, knowing I’ll go home tonight and see him for real, without the helmet and uniform. I’m proud every time I hear his name, and I have to hide the smile that plays along my lips. I like to think that the breakfast I cook in the mornings has something to do with his performance during games.

But then I remember him telling a complete stranger about me, and I try to block out the cheers and whoops that rocks the restaurant when James scores yet another goal against the Bruins.

Finally, around ten, Josh lets me take a fifteen, and I sink gratefully into a chair in the break room. Amanda soon joins me, putting both her feet up on the table even though Josh hates it.

“So how’s the new living arrangement?” She jumps right to it. Besides Hayden, Amanda is the only other person who knows about me living with James. It’s kind of hard to keep something like that from her, since she’s noticed him picking me up quite a few times.

After she told me what she thought was going on, I figured it was better to tell her the truth.

“I’m a charity case,” I start, and tell her everything that happened a couple nights ago.

She shrugs. “Maybe he was jealous you were going on a date?”

“Why would he be jealous? He’s probably got a phone full of numbers.”

“Guys are territorial like that. Who knows.” She shrugs again. “But your date went well?” She’s giddy and excited, and I can’t help but join her as I tell her about my night with Noah.

At one, I am thankfully done, and the second I step out on the street, James pulls up in his black sedan. I make my way to the passenger seat before realizing that someone is already there. Instead, I climb into the black.

James glances at me in the rearview mirror and grunts an almost inaudible ‘hey.’

Marc-Andre Fluery twists around in his seat and gives me a toothy grin.

“Hey, Lanie,” he greets cheerfully in his thick accent. “Guess whose car got towed again?”

I grin. “Where’d you try to park this time?”

“I was in the handicapped spot for all of two seconds! I tried to bribe the cop, but he was a Caps fan! Can you believe it? A Caps fan in Pittsburg!” He shakes his head incredulously as James rolls his eyes and pulls out into the traffic.

“You tried to bribe a cop?” I repeat, laughing. “After parking in a handicapped spot?”

“Like that’s such a foreign concept,” James chime in, and I glare at him from the backseat as Marc looks on in confusion.

After we drop Marc off, I move to the front seat, but don’t talk to James. He doesn’t try to engage in conversation, and I don’t either. Finally, when we’ve pulled into the garage, he turns to me and sighs.

“What’s the matter?” He asks slowly, his tone sing-songy.

“Nothing,” I reply. I get out, grab my bag, and head into the kitchen.

“Oh, come on,” he teases as I drop my bag on the counter and grab a glass from the cabinet. “Like you’re ever this quiet. You mean to tell me no old guys hit on you tonight? And you didn’t spill a single drink?”

“Nope,” I reply, popping the ‘p.’ I pour a glass of orange juice, down it, and wash the glass as James watches, dubious. I head upstairs, and to my surprise, he follows me, all the way down the hall and to my room.

I open the door and head inside my room, and he stops at the entrance, but doesn’t leave. Closing the door, I undress and wrap myself up in a towel. Opening the door, I find James exactly where I left him. James is in the master bedroom, which has it’s own bathroom. There are two other bedrooms, one of which is mine, that share a bathroom located at the end of the hall. If I didn’t need to shower so bad, I would just stay in my room and ignore him.

But after working almost ten hours, I stink.

“What crawled up your butt and died tonight?” He frowns, pausing to eye me before taking a step back as I push past him and make my way towards the bathroom.

“You really wanna know?” I finally snap, turning to face him from inside the bathroom. He’s still standing in front of my door, at the opposite end of the hall.

“No, I don’t,” he replies sarcastically. “I’m following you around because I thought we were playing follow-the-leader.”

“Ugh!” I grunt in frustration. He never takes me seriously! “Forget it!”

“Fine!” he grunts back, throwing both hands into the air in frustration.

I slam the bathroom door and throw off my towel angrily. He is maddening sometimes.

If I wasn’t so desperate. If the alternative wasn’t living in a run down apartment. And if he wasn’t so nice most of the times….

I start with my hair, washing it a little harder than I normally do because I’m still mad. The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

What the hell did he mean, my situation? And why did he care whether I thought Kate was pretty or not? Why was he being such an ass all of a sudden? Was Amanda right? Could he be jealous?

I scoff out loud, because no way is James Neal jealous.

What he is, is oblivious. And he wasn’t being very nice at the moment. And if we’re going to be roommates, and (though it’s a stretch), friends, then we need to be able to talk things through.

I jump out of the shower, wrap a towel around myself, and storm down the hall and into James’ room, my hair dripping water onto my back. He’s not there, but I hear the water running so I crash into the master bedroom’s bathroom.

“Hey!” he exclaims in surprise from inside the shower. “Knock much?!”

Fuck. I should really think about my actions before I act them out. What if he was using the tub that I once occupied?

Thank goodness he’s in the glass shower, which is fogged with steam from the hot water. He is a blurred shaped behind the glass. But that doesn’t prevent me from seeing the shape and size of him. His dark hair and…

“What the hell are you doing in here?!” he yells at me.

I’m brought back from my reverie. Right.

I ask, “What did you mean, my situation?”

The shower shuts off with a squeak and the glass door opens, letting a whoosh of steam out that curls and disappears. James sticks a hand out, and for a minute I think he is going to step out naked, but then he grabs a towel hanging on the rack next to the shower and then his hand retreats.

I see his silhouetted form wrap the towel around his waist and he steps out of the shower, his hair dripping.

We stand facing each other, both in those super soft, plush white towels that I love so much.

He studies me for a second. “What situation?”

“The situation you so kindly told Kate about?”

Realization alights his face and he shrugs. “I told her about you, that’s all. Why wouldn’t I? How else do you explain me living with a twenty-one year old female?”

“But why did she look like she felt sorry for me? What did you say?”

He shrugs again. “Why does it matter? I took you in. I’m the good guy here.”

I frown. “So… what? I’m a charity case you’re using to get laid?”

“If it works, it works.”

“You’re an asshole,” I conclude, turning to leave.

“Oh, please,” he calls from behind me. “Like living with me doesn’t have its perks?”

“No one knows!” I argue, my voice rising as I whirl around to face him again. It’s hard to talk and make my points. His towel is entirely too low on his hips. “Noah liked me before he knew!”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“There won’t be a problem unless you keep using me to get girls into bed!”

“Listen, just because you’re jealous of Kate for having boobs when you don't, doesn’t mean you should take it out on me.”

“I’m not jealous!”

I am huffing and puffing, and we are definitely not talking things through like I had wanted. I just want to shut him up, and turn that stupid smirk on his face upside down. I do what I do next because it’s worked before, and because I’m not really thinking about my actions, hence how I ended up in James’ bathroom in only a towel in the first place. Not that it’s the first time, either…

Before I can change my mind, I un-tuck the corner of my towel and let the top half fall, revealing my chest to a wide-eyed James.

“I don’t know what they call these where you’re from, but in these parts, these are breasts,” I say as calmly as I can, though my heart is beating a million miles a minute. He can probably see it, too, considering he could see, well, everything.

I just stand there as he stares, brows raised, not even bothering to look away.

He clears his throat, then puts both hands up, like he’s surrendering. “Okay, fine. You’re right. Those are definitely breasts.”

Even though he says I’m right, I don’t feel like I’m right. He’s surrendering, which means I win, but somehow, it feels like he won.

I mean, he's grinning.

Yeah, okay. If his expression is any indication, then he definitely won.

I give up.

Sighing and resigned, I reposition the towel and leave without another word. I hear him padding barefoot after me. It reminds me of the first night, when he chased me through the house in much the same situation.

“Why can’t we ever have a civil conversation?” I wonder out loud, mostly mumbling to myself as I make my way out. “Without anyone, namely me, running away. And I’d like to be fully dressed, just once. Is that too much to ask?”

He chuckles at my rant. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry,” he appeases, rushing to block my path, both hands out on the doorframe. He sure doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds amused. I stop, just at the door to his bedroom. I don’t have a choice, since he’s right in front of me, not more than two inches away. “It wasn’t right to use you like that. Why don’t we all hang out? You guys can come to the game tomorrow night, keep Kate company. Right behind the player’s bench.”

What?

Where the fuck did that come from?

I cut to the chase and narrow my eyes up at him. “What are you trying to pull here, Neal?”

“Nothing,” he replies. “Honest. I’m just trying to keep the peace in this house.” His wet hair is dripping water into his eyes, and he shakes it away, little drops landing on me. It's distracting.

“Right,” I say, not buying his spiel at all. “Thanks, but I think we’ll pass.”

“Come on, do it for Noah. He’d like to go to a game, dontcha think?” He smiles invitingly, and my heart speeds up even though I’m trying to seem indifferent.

“Okay…” I say slowly, still suspicious. “Fine, we’ll go.”

James beams, and I think my heart stops for a second. “Cool! It’ll be great. We can go out afterwards, get to know each other… It’ll be a blast!”

“Mmm, I’m sure.” I give him a sarcastic little smile before ducking under his arm and escaping to my room.

Closing the door, I lean on it and breathe a sigh of relief. I'm freaking out because my heart hasn't stopped beating, and I'm trying to convince myself that it's not because James was only in a towel, and looked damned good in it. I'm also kinda wondering what he looks like without the towel on, and that isn't really helping.

I tell myself my heart's beating because I ran to his room, probably, and I'm not a runner.

But I'm doing kind of a bad job, though. Convincing myself, I mean.

Actually, I'm doing a pretty crappy job.

This is just fantastic.

Double date with James and Kate.

I. Can’t. Wait.