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CHAPTER 1
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Ginny woke up to the sounds of the shower running, and the traffic outside her apartment. The sounds were like an ice pick, right in her eardrums.
Honestly… New York City was the worst place to wake up with a hang-over in.
After flopping over with a yawn and a massive stretch, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up, trying to rub the headache from her temples. She shivered when the cool air, flowing in from the window, hit her skin- she wanted to crawl back into the warm little blanket cocoon she had formed, but instead she just padded her way over to the mirror that hung across from the bed.
Yawning again, she reached up to muss her own curly hair- already completely out of control this early in the morning- and squinted at her naked form. She was short, compact, with millions upon millions of freckles covering her pale skin. She turned to the side, running her hands over her small bust, her not-quite-flat stomach- she wasn't fat by any means, even if she did often feel that way around all those skinny little twig models running around at the magazine.
Sighing, she turned around and was immediately face-to-face with one James MacArthur. Well, face-to-pectorals, anyway. She was short, after all.
James grinned widely- that famous grin that Ginny knew for a fact had melted many a woman's heart. She had, of course, just done a whole four page spread on the model/singer/songwriter.
In Ginny's opinion, James had a crap voice- it was nasally, whiny almost. And all his songs were thinly-veiled allusions to his own good looks and sexual prowess. But…
He certainly was a good model- even though, she supposed, you couldn't actually really mess that up. He was just supremely good-looking, with his chiseled features and dark hair and dark eyes and absolutely divine body…
And, even though his songs were stupid… the 'sexual prowess' part had a bit of truth to it, as Ginny had found out the night before.
Not that she could actually remember a whole lot of it. She had drank a lot of wine at the party to celebrate James's spread that previous night, and could only vaguely remember asking him back to her place, much less the activities that had ensued afterwards.
"Hey there," James said, trying to wrap his arms around her- Ginny, however, just shrugged away, moving over to the chair across the room to pick up her robe. James didn't seem to notice this brush-off, though, or, if he did, he ignored it. "You want to go get some breakfast, or something?"
"Not really," Ginny said, slipping into the robe, knotting it tightly around her waist. She noticed that James was wearing one of her towel- her nice, decorative towels, nonetheless- slung low on his hips.
Yes, he certainly was nice to look at, but right now Ginny just wanted him gone.
"Oh…" James said. Ginny was sure this was the first time a woman had denied him anything. "Well, we don't have to go out, or anything. I mean, we could stay here-"
"I'm not much of a breakfast person, you know?" She sighed, rubbing her temples some more. This headache was killer! "I really just want to take a shower and then go back to bed."
James grinned that grin again. "Ahh… I think you want some company, then." It wasn't a question. He let his towel fall to the ground.
Ginny grabbed his clothes off the floor and pushed them into his arms. "Actually, I think I want you to put some clothes on."
James, she could tell, was confused at her refusal- no one, after all, had ever accused him of being a genius. All he knew was (1.) being pretty and (2.) having sex. And now that (1.) wasn't getting him (2.), he just didn't know what to do with himself.
Confused or not, he began putting his clothes on- and for this, Ginny was eternally grateful. She didn't think her eardrums could handle an argument right at that moment.
Fully dressed now, he just shoved his hands into his pockets. "So, uh… do you want my number, or something? Or to give me yours?"
Persistent, this one.
Ginny placed her hands on his back, pushing him gently out of the bedroom. She led him towards the door. "I know you're number, James."
"Ah. Right." He turned around for one last try. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay-"
"I'm sure, James," Ginny said. She opened the door. "Buh-bye, now."
James's good-bye was only half out of his mouth when the door was shut in his face. Ginny, on the other side, groaned and leaned back against it. She waited for the sounds of James leaving before she made her way to the bathroom.
After a nice, long shower- where she discovered that not only had James used one of her decorative towels, but he had also liberally used her shampoo- she flopped back onto her bed. She looked at the clock.
Nine twenty.
She rolled into a ball and snuggled back into her blankets for a quick nap before she had to go into the office.
"I need a vacation," she sighed.
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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think!!!!
