For those of you who has read through my main James&Emily work - first of all: thanks. This is just a one-off, an alternate version of what could have happened between them. Because, just imagine what would've happened if they'd taken different choices. What if Emily had never let slip on the phone how much she missed him? What if James had never jumped on a flight to Norway?
To put it into a timeline-perspective compared to the original story, this story would happen right after James came home from Africa. Emily and James has known each other for about 16 months, and Emily has lived in London for about 14.
Ringing the doorbell I felt nervous, and I hated myself for it. I shouldn't feel nervous, not here, not about this. Coming here had always been something I looked forward to, it had been a place where I laughed and had fun, a place where I felt relaxed and safe. But that was then. And I knew it was my own damn fault that I had lost that, I could blame no one but myself. No matter how much I pretended to be in charge of my own emotions, how wise and sensible I had tried to seem, fact of the matter was that I had let my heart completely run away with me. My solution had been to pull away, to avoid him and hide, because being with him was just too painful. Whenever I was with him I ached to tell him what I felt, to touch him and hold him. Being around him, my feelings and longing for him was all I could think of, it was so incessant it completely consumed my consciousness. It had gotten so bad I could barely keep up a conversation with him. Staying away from him made me feel miserable because I missed him dearly; I missed talking to him, spending time with him, hearing his laugh, but it was still better than the alternative – being with him was more painful than being without him. At least the way things had been between us. We had been so close to each other, but I could never come as close as I wanted to, so I stayed away.
The door opening tore me out of my preoccupied, nervous thoughts. Picking my eyes up from his front doorstep I first saw his worn light jeans, his grey t-shirt with some obscure carburettor-brand on it, his grey-streaked long hair standing every which way. He had a hand shoved into his pocket like he often tended to do, a big wristwatch on his arm.
“There you are! I thought you'd forgotten the way here!” He smiled. I forced myself to return his smile, trying to make it as warm and sincere as his had been.
“Yeah, no, I know, sorry, I just... Had to work an hour overtime, then the tube was mad, you know, Friday afternoon, then my phone died so I couldn't text you...” I rambled.
“Don't worry about it, I'm just glad you made it,” he waved, taking some steps back to let me into his house. Entering his hallway I suddenly felt awkward. At one point I had been so at home here I would have just knocked twice and barged in. Now, because of having kept my distance and the fact that I was never here any more, I felt reduced to a guest again, bound by politeness and etiquette. There was something sore and sad about that thought. While I took off my jacket and shoes James disappeared into the kitchen. I trailed after him but stopped in the doorway between the hallway and kitchen, leaning against the door frame, hesitating a little.
“For crying out loud, come in will you? Since when did I have to ask you into this house?” He huffed. I blushed a little at how he could see straight through my awkwardness. Why couldn't he see everything else going on in my head too?
“It's been a while since I was here...” I shrugged apologetically, taking a few tentative steps into the kitchen.
“I know it has!” He agreed. “Listen, I know I said we'd just order in, but I am so bloody fed up with take-out I think I'll be sick if I have another meal that comes out of a cardboard box. So I decided I'm making food,” he announced. Before I could reply he raised his hands, showing his palms. “Now, I know you've been at work since some ungodly early hour, so I thought that while I was making food, you could just sit here...” he said, taking hold of me by the shoulders and steering me towards a barstool by the kitchen counter. His strong hands on my shoulders, him towering over me as he took control of me made my heart flutter in my chest. Having placed me on the barstool he turned around, snatched up a glass of wine and handed it to me, before finishing his sentence. “.. drink wine, relax and talk to me.” He grinned brightly at his own suggestion, raising a quizzical eyebrow at me.
“Aw, aren't you thoughtful, thank you,” I said gratefully, accepting my glass of wine.
“Well, I remember you told me about wearing a pedometer at work once. How many steps did you take in a shift? About 10,000?”
“Yeah, something like that,” I nodded.
“See, I don't walk that much in a week. You've deserved to sit down a little,” he continued as he started pulling various items of food out of his fridge.
“So, what are you going to make?”
“Steak, roasted potatoes, veg, red-wine sauce. Simple, but good. Hopefully,” he added, rolling his eyes as he glanced at me quickly.
“Oh, I'm sure it'll be edible at least,” I teased, and James chortled. He had a quick sip of his wine, then set about chopping up potatoes, throwing them into a big roasting pan. I couldn't deal with silence, not in this situation, so I rummaged through my handbag and found my iPod, then slipped off the barstool to plug it into the little stereo on the shelf. Then I stopped in my tracks, remembering that I was guest here again. “Can I put on some music?”
“You know the deal – as long as it isn't stuff that makes my ears bleed, like black metal or bloody... Kesha, you have free access to my stereo.”
“Oh, I thought you loved Kesha?!” I guffawed. He gave me horrified, bewildered look. “Oh yes, mister, I saw you on Graham Norton, feeling her up, plying her with alcohol...”
“I did not 'feel her up', I was quite the gentleman!” James said firmly, pointing at me with his knife. “Her outfit was terrifying, I was sure I was going to hurt myself on it. And her music if bloody awful.”
“Pff, she isn't wearing anything David Bowie hasn't worn before her.”
“At least he made decent music while he wore it,” James retorted, sounding personally offended by the choice of clothing of musicians today. Or maybe he was more offended by the music they made.
“Touché,” I snorted and turned on the music.
“And this is?”
“Florence and the machine. Now, even I would feel her up, that woman is a bloody goddess,” I said as I sat back down and returned to my glass of wine. He chuckled a little, concentrating on not chopping his fingers off. Tossing the last of the potatoes into the pan, he started on the veg.
“Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever heard you play anything with a female singer in it,” he commented.
“You're probably right. I tend to not like female voices, they just.. gnaw in my ears. There are a few female musicians I like though; like Patti Smith, Janis Joplin, Tori Amos...” I babbled, sipping my wine. James just nodded as he listened to me talk. Finishing cutting the veg he threw it in the pan with the potatoes, then picked up his wine glass and turned around to face me.
“You know, It's been such a long time since we did this. I've missed it. Having you here, just... spending time with you. When was the last time you were here?” There was no accusations in his voice, just kindness and a trace of sadness.
“I don't even remember, to be honest. Not long after the Top Gear summer party, I think?”
“That was July,” James observed.
“Bloody hell, was it?” I gaped, stunned over the fact that I hadn't set foot in this house for three months.
“I think that sounds about right,” he said. “I haven't seen or heard much from you lately,” he added, trying to keep the disappointment in his voice to a minimum. I heard it anyway, and felt my heart sink in my chest.
“I know, I'm sorry, I haven't... seen much of anyone lately, I've just been working my arse off,” I mumbled a little ashamedly.
“Yeah, I've noticed how busy you've been. Sure you're not wearing yourself out, going at that pace?” Mild concern flitted over his face as he looked at me over his glass, and I felt a painful jab in my heart at the sight of it. Setting his glass down he went back to making food, adding seasoning to the roasting pan.
“Possibly, I don't know... I've been thinking I should maybe slow down, but the wages for nurses in this country is an absolute fucking joke, sometimes I think I have to work this much just to get by without having to eat noodles every day,” I complained.
“I see your point. As noble as your choice of profession is, they really do pay you a pittance,” he said sympathetically. “But you're doing okay, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved. “I have food in the fridge and a roof over my head. But I've been wondering if it's worth it.”
“If what's worth it? Working as a nurse?”
“No, I...Working as a nurse is the only thing I know, I think I'm good at it and I like being one. I like my job, I can't quit that. But I've been wondering if working as a nurse here is worth it.” James wiped his hands on a cloth and looked at me for a moment before putting away the roasting pan and starting on the sauce.
“What would you do instead? Do something else?” He asked over his shoulder.
“No, I... I wouldn't know what to do. Like I said, being a nurse is all I know. I've been thinking about moving back to Norway, maybe...”At this James froze in his tracks, turning around to look at me.
“Really?”
“Yeah.. I mean, I could potentially make eleven to twelve thousand pounds more a year, working less than I am here. I mean, I didn't chose this profession to get rich, the level of nurse's wages in Norway are far from great compared to other jobs, but...”
“Yeah, that is a huge difference, I understand why that seems tempting. I... I thought you really liked living in London, though,” James said quietly.
“I do, I always have, you know that... it's just getting hard. Life just feels harder than it has to be. This was never meant to be a permanent thing, I came over here to take that course, and maybe work for a bit. I was horrified when I realised I've lived here for fourteen months now, I thought I wouldn't be here much longer than a year at the most. So maybe it's just.. time,” I sighed sadly.
“But.. you have friends here, people who care about you, who will miss you...” He pointed out. I couldn't help noticing that he didn't include himself in that sentence, and I was dying to ask if he'd miss me. But I didn't.
“Maybe, I guess you're right... Hopefully I still have some friends left in Norway as well. And all my family is there, I sort of miss them and feel very out of touch with them.”
“You haven't handed in your resignation yet, have you?” James said with a worried expression.
“No, I haven't. I keep procrastinating. I've been thinking maybe I should try to just... take it easier for a while, relax a little... It can be a bad idea to make big decisions like these when you're as run down as I feel right now. You lose perspective, and everything just seems worse than it really is.”
“I think you're right about that. Probably isn't a bad idea to takesome time to think about it,” he agreed.
“What about you and work, then?” I asked, wanting to take the focus off my own life for a while.
“Me? Oh, not as overworked as you. And definitely not as underpaid! I'm fine, I'm doing the usual, Top Gear, a bit of writing, other bits on the telly, you know... I just came home from Africa, though!” He added.
“Aha, that explains it. I thought you looked oddly tanned for a Londoner in mid-October. What was it, another special?”
“Yeah. And I didn't crack my head open this time!” He exclaimed happily. “It was great, actually, we drove through Uganda, Rwanda...”
“Uganda? You sod! That's my country! I am so, so... utterly jealous!” I squawked, gaping at him.
“Well, I can see why you liked being there, they're amazing-looking countries.”
“Please tell me you had fresh passionfruit juice?! Oh, and chapati!” My eyes misted over as I walked down my own memory lane.
“Yeah, yeah, tried all of that,” he waved. I narrowed my eyes, scowling at him.
“I hate you a little right now.”
“You'll love me again when you have this food,” he smirked.
“Oooh, he's confident!” I laughed. “Come to think of it, have you actually made food for me before? Didn't we always get take out?”
“Yeah, most of the time I think we did. We made pizzas once, though? But that was more of a joined effort. When was that, about a year ago?”
“As crazy as that sounds, you're probably right. Time flies...” We kept talking as James continued with dinner, catching up, laughing and poking fun at each other. By the time we sat down to eat, I was surprised at how calm and happy I felt, considering what a nervous wreck I'd been when I had rung the doorbell. The wine had made me feel at ease, along with James' mild, gentle presence and the effortless conversation that flowed between us. It felt almost like old times, just as natural and fun as it once had been. Dinner turned out to be excellent, and I berated James mildly for not having made me food before. After dinner we dove into our second bottle of wine, and James settled on the sofa with my iPod, getting ready for what we once had dubbed “shuffle Russian roulette”. It was a sort of ritual, or a game that had developed during our evenings of spending time together. One of us would hit shuffle, and the other had to explain why whatever came up was on the iPod at all, depending on whose iPod it was. Most of it we agreed upon and we just ended up talking about why we liked that particular artist or music, or talking about something completely different. But more often than I liked to admit, I had to defend whatever came up with tooth and nail. And if I failed, it got deleted. It was an effective way of keeping your playlists tidy. The wine disappeared way too quickly, and we both made pouting faces when James tried to pour himself another glass and only a few drops came out.
“Crack open another one?” he asked, his eyes glittering and his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol.
“Oh god, I won't even make it home if we start on the third bottle!” I said, shaking my head.
“Pff, you don't have to. I have a spare room, you know that!” He argued. Wine had made me easy to persuade, and right now the last thing I wanted was to stop drinking and leave James' company.
“Oh all right, go on,” I sighed, giving in. “I apologise in advance for the horrible wine -hangover I am going to have in the morning,” I said as I accepted a freshly poured glass.
“I nursed you through pneumonia, I think I'll manage a hangover,” James waved happily, not a care in the world. We returned to the game of shuffle roulette, but eventually we forgot all about it, we were too distracted with talking.
“So, hows the love life?” I blurted out in a dip in the conversation, instantly fighting an urge to punch myself in the face. Why did I ask about that? It was none of my business for one thing, secondly it was the last thing I wanted to know about in his life. But my curiosity had gotten the better of me, I had to know.
“Love life? Oh, her. That's over,” he shrugged casually.
“Oh..?” I gaped stupidly at him for a second, then I remembered my manners. I was supposed to be his friend, a little sympathy was probably expected. “I'm... sorry.”
“Oh, don't be,” he shrugged. “It wasn't really... We weren't very serious, you know, we were never going to last, it was just...” His voice trailed off.
“What?” I prompted.
“I can't think of a single thing to say now that doesn't make me sound like an absolute knob-head,” James admitted with a little chuckle, shaking his head at himself.
“Oh come off it,” I scoffed. “I think I know what you mean, though. Sometimes you're with someone just because... it's better than not being with someone, it's just company, a way to make yourself feel less lonely, or less bored. Not all relationships have to be that incredibly deep and meaningful. I've had relationships like that.”
“That's a good description, that was exactly what it was like. I just... was worried I'd sound incredibly shallow or callous if I explained it like that,” he admitted, fiddling with the stem of his wineglass.
“You were with her for quite a while, though?” Inwardly I cursed myself, why did I keep asking questions about this?
“Yeah... Far longer than I had meant to, really, I never meant it to last for nine bloody months,” he sighed.
“Things never work out the way we want too,” I observed, knowing he'd never pick up on the hidden meaning in that sentence. “And by the way, I don't think having a relationship like that has to be neither shallow nor callous, not as long as you're open about it, honest about your intentions. If one part had fallen in love and wanted something more out of it, while the other part knew that and still just... wanted to have fun – that would've been shallow and callous. There's nothing wrong with wanting some fun and some company, as long as you play with your cards open.”
“Yeah...” James nodded, agreeing with me. “I was honest about it, we both were. Anyway, it's over now,” he sighed and straightened up, obviously done with the subject of his love life. “What about you then? Have you met someone?” The question caught me completely off guard even though it shouldn't have. I had opened this can of worms and should have expected the question, still it surprised me so much I nearly choked on my wine. I have no idea what came over me when I said:
“Yeah, I have, actually.” It was James' turn to gape, he was completely unable to hide the surprise in his face; he had obviously not seen that one coming.
“Oh yeah?” He asked, frowning a little.
“Yeah, he's... a good mate, probably my best mate actually. But I don't know how he feels about me, and I haven't dared talk to him about it,” I continued.
“Why not? I mean, knowing you... You're open, you're honest, I wouldn't think you'd have trouble talking with someone?” James challenged, raising an eyebrow at me.
“He's.. He makes me laugh, we always have things to talk about, being with him just feels natural. And he's so kind and thoughtful, supportive, and I'm not used to having friends like that. What if I'm just mistaking his friendliness for something else? He might not have those kinds of feelings for me, maybe all the nice things he says and does to me are just... him being who he is? I'm scared that if I talked to him, I'll just be rejected, and I'm not sure I'd be able to cope with that, not... from him. And I'm terrified that if I talk to him about it, and he doesn't have those kinds of feelings for me, I'll end up losing my best mate and I'm not sure I could deal with that, either.” When I had finished talking I watched James intently, looking for any signs that he might have realised who I was talking about.
“How long have you known him?” He asked interestedly, giving no sign that he had any inkling of what I was on about.
“Oh, not that long, really. But it feels like I've known him all my life.” After a moments thought James spoke.
“Well, first of all; if he rejects you.. he's a prat.” He said simply, looking straight into my eyes. I blinked and blushed a little, averting my eyes. Then he continued. “And even if he does... If he's your best mate, and so thoughtful and all the rest of it, he should be able to handle it and still be your friend?”
“Hmm... maybe. But I don't know if I would,” I mused.
“Well, that is up to you,” James said sagely as he leaned back against the sofa, getting more comfortable.
“Ugh, feelings are so... complicated!” I huffed, running my hands through my hair and messing it up. “Talk about something else, yeah? This is getting me depressed.” James obliged and changed the topic. What I had told him seemed to have taken him a little by surprise, and he hadn't asked who it was or how I knew him. But he didn't seem to have any suspicions as to whom I could have been referring to either. As intelligent and sharp as James usually was, sometimes he could be unbelievably thick.
By the time the third wine bottle was empty, it was getting rather late and I was yawning widely.
“I'm sorry, James, but I might have to throw in the proverbial towel. I'm... knackered...” I said, launching into another yawn.
“No, that's okay, I don't blame you. You started work at what, 7 this morning?”
“6.30,” I corrected him.
“And you've had a bottle and a half of wine. And you're still coherent. I'm impressed. You're entitled to be exhausted,” he said.
“Listen, I didn't bring anything, could I just.. borrow a t-shirt or something to sleep in?” I asked.
“Sure,” he nodded. I trailed after him upstairs, then hovered in the doorway to his bedroom as he rummaged in his closet and threw me a grey one that said 'don't panic' and 'dad's army' on it.
“Ooh, thanks! I love this one!” I blurted out. I had always adored how James looked in that shirt, and I felt myself blushing a little. “I'll try and.. you know, not leave boob marks in it,” I added, trying to brush it off and hide it behind a joke.
“Emily, look at me,” James said dryly, gesturing tiredly to himself. “It already has boob marks in it.” He said it so matter-of-factly I broke out into a right laughing fit that lasted for so long James went from being amused to a little offended. “All right, that's enough, it was meant to be funny, but not that funny,” he mumbled, causing me to laugh even more.
“Sorry...” I said as I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to stop laughing. James followed me to the spare bedroom, and lingered a little in the doorway, leaning against the door-frame with both hands shoved into his pockets. I ended up standing aimlessly in the middle of the room, clutching his shirt. “Thanks for a really good evening, James. The food was great. I've had a really good time.”
“Me too,” he said with a little smile. “Hope you'll have a good nights sleep. You deserve it. Feel free to take a shower or something if you want to, there's towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. There's paracetamol in the kitchen cupboard of plenty, if you should need it.” I chortled a little, nodding gratefully.
“Thanks, James.”
“I'll go away now,” James said, taking his hands out of his pockets. All of me was screaming that I should run to him, wrap my arms around him, hug him tight, but I couldn't move from the spot. All I could get myself to do was nod weakly.
“Okay... Night night, James.”
“Good night, Emily.”
I closed the door behind him as he walked off, listening intently to his steps as they disappeared downstairs. Quietly I banged my forehead against the door in drunken frustration. I couldn't do this any more. I had to get away, move home to Norway, I couldn't keep doing this to myself. And I obviously wouldn't just 'get over it' and learn how to deal with it either. I tore off my clothes and shoved on the t-shirt. Looking down myself, seeing myself in his t-shirt, which was too big and long for me, just made me even more sad and frustrated. It made me feel close to him, intimate in some way, without ever having been so. The closest I had ever been to him was that night when I had been very sick with pneumonia and he'd slept next to me. With tears stinging in my eyes I flopped down on the bed and buried myself under the duvet, fighting with my feelings. I couldn't break down crying, not here, not in this house, what if he heard me? God knows how long I stayed under that duvet, biting my lip, letting silent, hot tears slide down my face. This was really it, I was moving back. Come Monday I would just quit my job and get out of London. For a while I lay there, unable to sleep, thinking about all the practical things I would have to sort if I was moving back home, mentally planning and organising to occupy myself. Realising that I was incredibly thirsty, and that drinking lots of water probably wouldn't be a bad idea considering the amount of wine I'd had, I got out of bed. I had no idea how long I'd been lying there, but I reckoned that James would've gone to bed by now. Still lost in my mental organising I padded downstairs in just my knickers and the t-shirt, which barely reached the middle of my thighs. Just as I noticed that James was still awake, and sitting by his kitchen counter on the bar-stool I had occupied earlier in the evening, he looked up and spotted me. Inwardly I swore loudly, knowing that it was too late to turn around now.
“Is the music too loud?” James asked as I entered the kitchen, making me aware of it.
“What? No, I didn't even hear it from upstairs,” I said hurriedly, which was true. If I had, I probably wouldn't have wandered down into the kitchen in practically my underwear. My voice was gruff from crying, and I hoped he'd think it was from sleeping.
“Can't sleep?” He was still in his clothes, his iPad and a glass of whiskey on the counter in front of him.
“No, I just... wanted a glass of water,” I said quietly. “I thought you would've gone to bed by now,” I admitted.
“Just didn't feel like it yet...” he mumbled, flicking his finger across the screen. I padded on bare feet over the flagstone floor to where I knew the glasses were, took one down and turned on the tap.
“Emily?” James' voice called from behind me.
“Mm?” I said, not turning around to look at him. I had a few fingers under the running water, waiting for it to get properly cold.
“That bloke you were talking about earlier, the one you met... Who is he?” He asked when I had filled my glass and turned to look at him. I nearly dropped my glass in sheer surprise.
“Oh, he's... um, why?” I asked guardedly. He spoke timidly, as if he wasn't sure he really had a right to ask the question that was on his mind.
“Well, I... It's just that we used to spend a lot of time together, you and me, and... I'm not presuming I knew everything that was going on in your life back then, and I certainly don't know now, but I never heard you mention anyone...” His voice trailed off. My heart stopped, I felt backed up in a corner. What would I do now? Make someone up? Lie? Say it was some bloke he'd never met, someone back in Norway maybe? Wasn't this the reason why I had told him what I had earlier in the night? For the chance that somehow maybe I'd be forced to tell him?
“Because it was you,” I mumbled quietly, staring into my glass of water. As the words fell out of my mouth, my stomach swooped to floor and I thought I was going to be sick.
“...What? Me...?” He said, frowning, looking confused.
“Because I was talking about you, you daft, poor old sod!!” I said loudly, frustrated now, fed up with him being so infuriatingly dimwitted. The silence following this little outburst was absolute, I swear even the music turned itself off. James stared at me for a minute, then stared into space, blinking dazedly as the cogwheels whirred in his brain. It had felt nice to shield myself behind frustration and annoyance, so I decided to stick with those feelings. The silence was killing me, I needed to break it, to get him to say something. “And if you're trying to think of how you're going to tell me 'thanks, but no thanks, I don't have those kinds of feelings for you', then just do me a favour and save it. Just keep your mouth shut and I'll get out of here and go to bed,” I continued angrily, marching across the kitchen floor heading for the stairs and the safety of the guest room upstairs. As I reached the doorway I felt James' hand close around my wrist, holding me back, forcing me to turn around and look at him.
“Emily, wait!” His voice was as angry as mine had been, making me nearly jump a step back with surprise. “I am trying to figure out how to tell you how mad I am about you, so will you just shut up and give me a minute, woman!” He roared. My heart stopped dead in my chest. Whatever anger or frustration I'd felt evaporated as suddenly as it had flared up in me, and all that was left behind was embarrassment and confusion. My face was burning as I stood aimlessly on the middle of the floor, staring stupidly into the glass of water I was still holding. I couldn't look at him. My mind was racing furiously, and I was breathing so shallowly I was getting dizzy. What had I just said to him. And what had he just said in return? Had I even heard him correctly? I was so lost in the shock of our little exchange that I didn't even hear him as he took a step closer. The glass I was clutching suddenly became oddly light and floated away. James gently took the glass from me and placed it on the kitchen counter. He was standing right in front of me, towering over me a little, and I couldn't bring myself to look up at him, but kept staring at my own, now empty hand. It was as if I was watching from somewhere outside my own body when I saw James' hand touch mine, gently and nervously. I stared unblinkingly as his hand closed around mine, caressing it tenderly with his thumb. Goose-bumps blossomed up my arm, then spread to the rest of my body, and for a moment I was worried I was going to start crying again. James used the hold on my hand to pull me closer. I took a step forward, walking into his arms, nervous and insecure. His arms closing around my shoulders made me braver, and I leaned a little into him, snaking trembling arms around his waist. As I felt his arms close even tighter around me, it was as if I remembered how to breathe again. With a sigh I buried my face against his shoulder and neck, taking in his smell, the feel of his warmth, his body against mine. James' hands were caressing my back, encouraging me to wrap my arms even closer around him and caress him in return. I had hugged him before, but never like this. We were holding each other tight, standing as close as we possibly could, caressing each other, breathing together. For a moment James buried his face in my hair. It was as if we tried to convey all the things we'd never dared to tell each other through that embrace. I don't know how long we stood there, as far as I was concerned we could've stood like that all night, I could've fallen asleep in those arms. Still holding me close, James broke the silence.
“I am such a twat, really had no idea you were talking about me...” he admitted, sounding apologetic and a little embarrassed. I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent and just hugged him tighter, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I just asked you who it was because... maybe I would be able to hunt him down and punch him in what I imagined to be his very handsome face,” James added. At this I threw my head back and burst into laughter, feeling how I let go of all my tension and nervousness. Finally I felt like I had the courage to look into James' eyes. Kind, warm eyes met mine, they glittered as he watched me giggle. For a moment we could do nothing but stare at each other, it felt like we were seeing each other properly for the first time in months. James cleared his throat a little, shuffling his feet. “Listen... Would you want to come upstairs with me?” Instantly he shook his head and let me go to hold his palms up in a disarming gesture, realising what it had sounded like. “I mean, not to... That came out wrong, I mean, nothing has to happen, I didn't mean it in that way, I just really want to... Lie next to you, to hold you and have you close,” he finished in an awkward mumble. I couldn't help but giggle a little at him as he rambled and squirmed.
“I'm sure that whatever you're trying to ask me, the answer is probably yes.” James blushed furiously, looking like an embarrassed little schoolboy as he averted his eyes and looked at the floor. I ran a hand down his arm, then squeezed his hand comfortingly. Just being able to do this simple act of adoration made my stomach swoop with feelings. Reassured by this he dared to look at me again, if only for a fraction of a second. Still holding my hand in his, he walked me out of the kitchen, stopping briefly to turn off the music and switch the lights off. Trailing after him up the stairs I already missed his arms around me, and I had to fight the urge to stop him mid-stairs just to hug him again. Reaching his bedroom there was a horrible moment of awkwardness as we both looked at the bed and then at each other. None of us had the slightest idea of how to act or what to say, and the moment was so absurd we both started giggling.
“Oh god, I just had a horrible flashback to when I was fifteen,” James complained, covering his eyes with his hands, and we laughed some more. Deciding to ignore my awkwardness I crawled into James' bed while he got out of his jeans. He gave me an awkward, shy look before he also crawled into bed, coming to rest a little distance from me. James looked at me through the light of his bedside table, and just seeing his face made me smile widely. Emboldened by my smile he wordlessly inched closer and wrapped an arm around me, caressing my hair and the back of my neck. My heart exploded in my chest, my breath was ragged from nerves and happiness as I closed my arm around him again. Finally finding myself as close to him as I wanted, I couldn't stop staring at him, studying every minute detail of his eyes, his lips, his mouth. I was trying to take in the fact that this was actually happening, that I was actually here, in his arms. That now, he knew. James caressed the side of my face lightly with his fingers. I closed my eyes to his gentle touch for a moment, smiling serenely. In return I cupped his face and ran my thumb over his cheek, feeling the rough skin that would have a stubble by morning under my fingertip. After a while I realised I was just gawking at him, grinning like an idiot, and the realisation made me blush furiously and giggle like a little girl. Feeling incredibly embarrassed I buried my face against his neck and shoulder again, hiding my bright red face from him. Chuckling quietly, James ran his hand over my hair reassuringly, letting me hide against him. Lying there I felt like I could never get enough of this, I just wanted to cling on to him forever. Neither of us pulled back, I just remained there in this tight embrace, face nuzzled against his neck and shirt. Goose-bumps erupted all over my body again when I felt him kissing my temple lightly. Reacting on pure instinct, needing to feel his skin under my own lips, I moved my head upwards a little and kissed his cheek, daring to let my lips linger a little longer on him than his had on me. We didn't move from each other, neither of us wanted to, so we remained like that, lying cheek to cheek. I could feel his breath on my skin, ragged and warm. James moved a fraction, and I sensed his lips against the skin of my cheek, not kissing, just... staying still. I could barely breathe. My heart was pounding so wildly in my chest I swore he would be able to hear it, even feel it through our shirts. All I could think of was the fact that his mouth, his warm, soft lips were inches from mine, maybe less. My only comfort was that his breath seemed just as nervous and shallow as my own. Achingly slowly, James' lips moved, trailing over my skin, blindly searching for my mouth. When our lips found each other, we both stopped, as if none of us dared move in case we'd break some spell. I felt his breath on my mouth, his lips against my bottom lip. Almost trembling, he pressed his lips against mine, stiffly and nervously. I couldn't remember ever having been this tentative, this nervous, this fumbling and excited about a kiss. Almost holding my breath I gave his top lip the lightest of kisses. Encouraged by this, James opened his mouth a little, taking my bottom lip in a soft, tender kiss. I kissed him back, slowly and deeply, properly, for the first time, and it took my breath away. As James' confidence grew, his kisses deepened and he buried his hand in my hair, holding me as close as he could. I sensed something slightly desperate in his kisses, something frantic and intense that he was trying to keep control over. He gave me one last, lingering kiss before pulling away reluctantly. He didn't pull back further than he had to, just enough so he could see my face.
“I can't believe I finally got to do that...” He said softly, smiling at me. I kept quiet, just looking serenely at him, I had no words to express what I was feeling anyway, and I sensed that he had more to say. “You know, I was sitting in the kitchen just now trying to drown myself in a bottle of whiskey because I was upset,” he admitted.
“Upset?”
“Yes, I... I really thought you had met someone, someone incredibly dashing and amazing, and probably very successful and rich as well. And I thought that I'd never stand a chance now, and I'd never get to... do that.”
“It never really occurred to you that I was talking about you earlier?” I asked, looking at him with amused exasperation, running a hand over his cheek.
“What? No...” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You and I, we... Spent a lot of time with each other, doing things together, calling each other almost every day. And then... We spoke on the phone less and less, and then I never saw you any more, and I wondered why, if it was something I'd said or done... I missed you a lot. And when you said you'd met someone, I thought that seemed like a good explanation for why you'd been so busy, why you seemed to just... slip away from me.” He looked down as he said so, the trace of his sadness flitting across his face.
“Oh, James... I haven't been busy. Well, I have been busy, I've been working a lot, but... Honestly, I...” My voice trailed off, and it was my turn to look away. I didn't know how to tell him, suddenly I felt guilty for having stayed away, I felt like a coward and a wimp.
“Tell me?” He asked, so kindly that I knew I wouldn't be able to deny him.
“The truth is, I hardly saw you for three months because I... was avoiding you. I was just so bloody... taken with you, and you were with whats-her-face...” I hissed the last word, and James tried to bite back a laugh at my tiny, sudden flash of jealousy. “And I kept... thinking and wondering and hoping, driving myself mad. In the end it was just... less painful to stay away then to spend time with you. I thought I just had to stay away. And I missed you too, so bloody much.” While I had talked I had been avoiding James' eyes, studying his neck and the collar of his t-shirt. Pulling myself together I lifted my eyes to meet his. “I'm sorry...” As James saw the regret in my eyes he hurriedly shook his head and caressed my back.
“You don't have to say sorry... I thought maybe you were just sick of me, or bored of me, or.. like I said, that I'd done something wrong or you'd met someone. As absurd as it sounds, your explanation actually makes me feel a little better,” he said comfortingly. I smiled at him, feeling relieved, glad to have told him the truth. Seeing my smile, James' face lit up. “You know, when you smile, my heart always does this stupid flutter-thing. Ever since the first time I met you, it's done that. That can't be healthy, can it? It's like having... permanent heart arrhythmia...”
“Good thing I'm a nurse, then?” I muttered, staring at his lips as I leaned in to kiss him again, slowly and tenderly.
“Now I think it just stopped...” James whispered, his face only an inch from mine. Losing all self-restraint for a moment I threw myself over him, pushing him onto his back, burying both hands into his hair while kissing him passionately, letting out all my pent-up feelings for him. For a moment James froze in surprise, then he wrapped both arms tightly around me, kissing me back with the same furious passion. His hands ran down my back and slipped underneath my t-shirt, his t-shirt, and when I felt his fingers on the skin of my lower back the breath nearly hitched in my throat, his touch felt electric. Finally I managed to snap out of it and stop kissing him.
“Sorry, I just... Had to get that out of my system,” I said, shooting him an innocent, somewhat apologetic smile.
“That's... quite all right,” James said weakly, looking dazed. “I hope there's more of those in your system, though?”
“Yeah, there is a pretty much inexhaustible source of those in there,” I retorted, giving his lips another nip, and he hummed appreciatively. Having the freedom to be able to do this now, to be close to him, to flirt and kiss and caress him whenever I felt the urge to was amazing. With a sigh James pulled me down next to him and I came to rest against him with my head on his shoulder, cradled in his arms. Feeling safe and comfortable I felt the need to make some confessions on my own.
“James?”
“Mm?” He mumbled, absent-mindedly caressing my arm.
“You know, right before I came down into the kitchen earlier... I was really upset too, I had decided to move back to Norway. Just quit my job and... leave.” At this admission James pulled back a little to look at me.
“Because of me?” He asked me incredulously.
“Yes. I love London, I felt at home the first time I set foot in this city, and I didn't really want to leave, but... Everything in London reminds me of you now, and I just decided I couldn't put myself through that any more. London didn't feel like home any longer, it wasn't if I couldn't be with you. And I thought you didn't... That we'd never... So I gave up,” I sighed sadly.
“But then you came into the kitchen,” James reminded me. “And shouted at me.”
“Just a little... I had to, you were being incredibly thick. And you shouted back.” James rolled his eyes good-humouredly. A little, comfortable silence fell between us. James was still caressing my arm while I stroked his chest lazily.
“So... The reason you never said anything because you thought I didn't have any feelings for you? That I'd reject you and then you'd lose me as a mate as well?” James asked, trying to recap what I had said earlier that night.
“Weeell...” I droned, hesitating. “That's the essence of it.”
“Could I have the long version?” He asked. I raised myself up on one elbow to look at him.
“Really?” I looked at him incredulously, wondering if I'd ever had any man ask me to elaborate on my feelings and thoughts before.
“Yes! I've wanted to talk to you about... all of this for a long time, about you and me and... and now we're finally talking, so talk! Please?” He urged me.
“Okay, okay...” I nodded slowly. “At first, when we were getting to know each other, I was just... insecure. Scared. I tried so hard not to get feelings for you, to not get attached.”
“Why?”
“Many reasons. Because I never thought you could be interested in me. Or that anyone could, for that matter. And because growing attached to anyone always seems so terrifying to me, like too much of a risk. I've lost the important people in my life too many times. Whatever I felt, I just tried to ignore it.” James just kept quiet, looking at me with mild interest, waiting for me to continue. I drew a deep breath before I continued. “When I admitted to myself that I'd failed, that I had grown attached to you, I found out you were with someone. And as long as you were, I told myself I was never going to say anything, I mean, what was the point in that, you were taken and that was the end of it. So then I tried to just... live with it, shove it down. That didn't work very well either, so that's when I started... being very busy,” I finished.
“You know, I wish I hadn't stayed with her for as long as I did, I shouldn't have done that,” James began. “Staying with her was very unfair on her. And on you. You were on my mind most of the time I was with her, anyway. I didn't even realise at first, you just kept.. cropping up in my head more and more often, I couldn't stop thinking about you, wondering what you were doing. It was you I wanted to spend time with and be with.” He ran his hand over my hair as he talked.
“Why did you stay with her, then?” I asked mildly. Not to be mean or accusatory, but because I was genuinely curious.
“Because... Like you said, being with her was better than not being with someone. Better than not being with you. So I just... stayed with her, like a gutless idiot. Until I just... couldn't keep doing that. But by then I hardly ever saw you any more.”
“But why couldn't you just have... said something?” I huffed, nudging him a little playfully. It frustrated me to think of all the time we had lost, all the misery and longing he could've spared me, and himself, if he'd just said something.
“Well, you didn't either!” He pointed out, nudging me back. “You're not the only insecure person in the world, Emily... I was thinking that you wouldn't want to be with someone like me. And I never knew quite where I had you, you were so... guarded, I guess. But sometimes you let your guard down, let me come close, and I thought maybe there was something there. And then you seemed to realise just how close you'd let me and pushed me away again.” I couldn't argue with that, I knew he was right. Every now and again I had lost the ongoing battle I had with myself, I had let the walls crumble and let him in, only to curse myself for it after. So I decided not to argue, or defend myself, but ask a question that was burning.
“But... Why didn't you think I'd want someone like you?” I frowned.
“Like I said, I'm insecure. Jezza and Hamster did nothing to help, either. You know, when you and I were spending so much time together... They did nothing but take the mickey, like a pair of teenage boys, constantly pointing out how old and fat and boring I was, and how you'd never go for a sad old spaniel like me. In the end I just... believed them,” he said with a sad little shrug.
“Well, they're idiots. And more importantly, they're wrong. You're not old, you're not fat and you're definitely not boring. Now, the spaniel-bit I can't argue with, though. But I'm a dog person,” I added with a smirk, running my fingers through his half-long hair and he chuckled quietly, but the insecurity lingered in his eyes. “All right, I'm aware of the age difference between us, but... When I'm with you, it never crosses my mind. When we spend time together I just... enjoy being with you, and the fact that I can just be myself and have fun. James, you have no idea how wrong they were. I do want you, I want to be with you. Okay?” I gazed meaningfully into James' eyes, trying to reassure him that I had really meant what I said. Not entirely convinced that he believed me yet, I cupped his cheek with my hand and kissed him as lovingly as I could. He tangled his fingers into my hair and kissed me back. Then it was as if he suddenly remembered something, he froze and pulled back a little.
“I want to be with you, too, you got that, right?” He said hurriedly, as if he was worried that I could've misunderstood him somehow. I couldn't help but laugh a little at him, nodding as I did.
“Yeah, I was hoping you meant that...! But I love hearing you say it, I could listen to you say that over and over...” James decided to take my request literally.
“I want to be with you, it's all I want, because I'm bonkers about you. I want you so fucking much,” he said sincerely before pulling me close, taking my lips in a needy kiss. I rested against him, kissing him back, losing myself in the feeling of being close to him, being kissed and held by him. For a long while we remained like that, quiet, just kissing and nipping at each others lips, gazing into each others eyes, being close. I caressed James' chest through his shirt, but I wanted to get even closer. After a moment's nervous hesitation I cleared my throat and tugged a little at his t-shirt.
“Can I take this off...?” I asked timidly.
“If I'm taking mine off, you're taking yours off,” he challenged with a cheeky look. Suddenly I saw some of the playful side of James that I loved so much, and even a hint of confidence. What I had told him must've made him feel better, less insecure.
“Okay...” I nodded with a shy little smile. While James was busy taking off his t-shirt I quickly tore off my own and hastily pulled the covers up to my chin, wrapping it tightly around me. James discarded his t-shirt and turned to look at me, surprised to find me hiding under the covers.
“Why so shy all of a sudden?” He asked kindly as he laid back down next to me. The duvet still wrapped around me I inched as close as I could, before wrapping the duvet around both of us. I buried my face against his neck and shoulder as I had done so many times already tonight, wrapping an arm tightly around him. The feel of his bare torso against mine, my breasts against his chest made me erupt with goose-bumps and my heart sped up.
“Because I'm not wearing a bra...” I whispered, blushing.
“Oh, right..!” He said as realisation dawned on him. I shivered a little when he wrapped an arm gently around me and caressed my now naked back. “You didn't have to take the shirt off if you didn't want to,” he said kindly, kissing my forehead. I pulled back from him a little so I could see his face.
“No, I wanted to,” I said, smiling shyly again.
“I'm not sure I've ever seen you shy before,” James observed, looking amused.
“I've never been nearly naked with you before!” I pointed out.
“Fair point,” he chuckled and he gave me a quick kiss. He laid down on his back and pulled me with him. I came to rest half on top of him, an arm and a leg draped over him and my head on his shoulder. Gentle, feather-light fingers caressed my back over and over.
“I might fall asleep if you keep doing that,” I mumbled drowsily. “That feels so good.” I felt completely relaxed and at home in his arms.
“That's okay if you do, you were up very early today,” he whispered quietly, kissing my forehead. His fingers kept caressing my back. I gave his shoulder a lazy kiss, then let myself be carried off to sleep.
