Chapter 7- Steve
Laurel was trying to focus on the bar, but her senses were swarming with James and frankly she was getting rather irritated with her weakness for the blue-eyed man. She prided herself on being a good judge of character, but despite the fact that all of her instincts were indicating that James had way more issues than a healthy person should she was constantly feeling him invade her senses and encouraging her to ignore her doubts. Brushing a curl back impatiently, Laurel shook herself and turned back to the next patron. He was a tall handsome man with a classic, apple-pie look that Laurel had never found that alluring, but this guy pulled it off. She absently noted that he was about the same height as James, with the same if not more of a muscular build to him. She smiled politely and asked, "What can I get for you?" The man smiled at her, and said, "Do you have any water?" Laurel snorted and said, "I mean, I do, but you could get it cheaper a lot of other places. Not that I'm going to refuse your business, but you should know you're screwing yourself." Blondie laughed to himself and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm not much of a drinker," he smiled at her and she returned it while grabbing a glass from under the counter and filling it with ice and the cold liquid. She stuck a straw and slid the glass over to him, saying, "So why are you here?"
He took a drink of the water and looked at her appraisingly saying, "I'm looking for someone." For a brief second, Laurel's mind flew to James, but she dismissed that almost immediately because that was ridiculous. James didn't really seem like he had anyone looking for him, she mused. "Oh yeah?" she arched an eyebrow in question. "Who would that be?" The man standing in front of her paused and said, "Well, I can't actually tell you that."
Laurel smirked, "Oh, so it's a special lady?" The man laughed at that and said, "No, more like an old friend. Someone said they had seen him here."
Laurel nodded and said, "Well, I hope you find them. Let me know if you want to waste any more money on water okay?" She smiled at him and he returned it. She opened her mouth to reply when she saw a familiar broad-shouldered shape standing out on the dark street, but when she turned to look, there was no one there. The blonde guy turned to look where she was looking and Laurel quickly cleared her throat, trying to get his attention back to her.
"Just let me know if you need anything else okay?" He nodded and then walked down the bar a bit to sit at an empty stool. Laurel watched him carefully, and noted his wandering eyes and tense posture. He was still looking for his friend. Laurel stopped paying close attention to him after that, as the bar grew busier as the might wore on. Occasionally she would notice his blue eyes looking in her direction, but he would look the other direction as soon as she glanced his way. He was not the most subtle but Laurel had enough experience with staring and creepy people to tell it was a different kind of observation. One of casual curiosity with something lingering underneath, something that was a bit more intense.
At the end of the night, Laurel was locking the cash register when she felt a presence standing over her. Glancing upwards, her eyes met the eyes of the man from earlier. "Can I help you?"
He smiled and said, "I should probably introduce myself. I'm Steve." Here he paused and searched her face, maybe looking for a flicker of recognition, but the name wasn't ringing any bells for Laurel and she simply nodded at him to continue. "I told you I was looking for a friend, and I was wondering if you would let me know if you saw him."
Laurel raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Why should I? How do you know he'll show up here?"
Steve slid a small rectangle of paper over to her and Laurel picked it up, examining it. There was a small, plain, black set of numbers and she set it back down, shaking her head. "I'm not spying for you. Plus I don't even know who to look for or why."
Steve placed a hand over hers, which was still covering the card on the bar. "I can't tell you everything, but I really need you to listen. The guy we're looking for is in trouble with some pretty bad people, and we need to find them before they do. We have been trying to track his movements, and it's been hard, but we think that he'll end up here. He has some history here in this area."
Laurel arched an eyebrow and said, "Then if you know he's going to be here, why don't you just wait, or come back? I'm sorry, but I'm not going to get involved in your super-spy assassin or whatever this bullshit is. I'm just trying to survive and that really doesn't seem like the way to do it."
Steve hesitated but then nodded. "Okay. Well thank you anyway. Maybe I'll see you around sometime." Then he stuck his hands in his vintage leather motorcycle jacket and turned away to leave. Laurel watched him leave, and then glanced down at the bar and noticed that the white card still resided on the dented wood. Absentmindedly slipping the card into the pocket of her sweatshirt, she grabbed her keys and left the bar, carefully locking the door behind her.
Turning toward her apartment, she walked the few feet to her door and entered the stairwell. A dim flickering alerted her to the fact that the lightbulb was on its last leg and she was about to be plunged into perpetual darkness, as she already knew she would never get around to fixing it. Laurel was so preoccupied with watching the light flicker that she didn't even see James standing at the top of the stairs until she practically ran into him.
"Jesus Christ! You scared me!" She said, instinctively backing away from him. James looked tense and upset, and Laurel tried to remain calm as memories of his hand around her throat overwhelmed her senses. She took two cautious steps toward him and when he didn't react, her heart rate slowly returned to normal.
"Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?" His voice was low and dark and dangerous, and shivers ran down Laurel's spine.
"I don't know, his name was Steve. Wait, how did you even know that I talked to someone?" Trying to maintain a casual façade, she walked cautiously up the rest of the staircase and edged past him toward the door that stood open a crack. Entering the apartment, she noticed two plates spaghetti sitting on the counter. Temporarily forgetting her confusion in favor of indignation, whirling around angrily she snapped, "How come you didn't eat? I made that food for you!" She stepped back when she found James less than a foot away from her, until the cheap laminate countertop dug into her back. Suddenly it was hard for her to breathe, and meeting the electric blue eyes that were staring at her became increasingly difficult.
"You shouldn't talk to guys like Steve, you could end up getting hurt." Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his and her anger returned.
"Well, he was certainly more open than you're being right now. How did you know I even talked to him?" Laurel tried to push his muscular chest, giving her more room to think, but was fairly unsurprised when he didn't even flinch.
He gestured at the plates of spaghetti with his shining metal hand and said, "I brought one down to you because you forgot to eat, and I saw him. You two were talking."
"Well, yeah, I mean generally when you work with people you have to talk to them. And you should have just brought the plate in, I could have introduced you two." Laurel tried to get a handle on the swooping sensations in her stomach that had made an appearance when James said he was going to bring her food, chalking it up to a sudden hunger. She edged her way over to the plates, and finding them completely cold, carried them over to the microwave and stuck one in to reheat. She glanced over at James and noticed his hands had curled into fists.
"Hey, are you okay?" Laurel switched the plates and handed James the plate and a fork. He took it numbly and sat at the counter, staring blankly ahead.
He started slightly and said, "Yeah, he just reminded me of something from a while ago."
"Well, like I said, I'd be happy to introduce you if you want." James just shook his head vigorously, a few strands of his dark hair falling into his eyes, "I just thought I had more time," he muttered mostly to himself, and Laurel frowned, but chose not to say anything. Her mind went to what Steve had said before and Laurel attempted to push the sudden pit in her stomach aside.
Nodding, Laurel took the other plate of food out of the microwave and sat next to him. James's shining hand was still resting on the table as he voraciously dug into the lukewarm spaghetti and Laurel couldn't help staring at it. The way that the light from the dirty ceiling lamp reflected on the metal was mesmerizing and without really thinking, she was reaching out a hand to run her fingers over the shiny surface. Her fingers had barely brushed the top when the strong fingers clamped like a vise on her thin wrist and flipped her off her stool. Laurel landed on her back with a thud and curled up into a ball when the stool toppled over on top of her, landing right on her stomach. There was a ringing in her ears and for the second time in the span of a few days, she struggled to catch her breath. Dimly she heard James calling her name, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut in a valiant attempt to catch her breath and stave off the effects of the embarrassment that she was feeling.
"Laurel? Oh my god Laurel, are you okay?" She slowly opened up her eyes and was met with a concerned James leaning over her face. She nodded slowly and then tried to get up. James put a hand on her back and Laurel flinched automatically. His hand vanished and he stood, then walked to his backpack and jacket and picked them up. He slid the jacket onto his broad shoulders and swung the backpack up. Laurel watched helplessly from a half-raised position on the floor as he pulled his hood over his head and desperately Laurel whispered, "I'm sorry." She didn't want him to leave. He paused for a split second, but then left anyway, slamming the door behind him and leaving a swallowing silence in his wake.
Laurel spent another 3 minutes on the floor trying to regain her senses, and when she finally stood, she was stuck staring at the door. She knew it would be useless to go after him, but his abrupt departure had left her hurt and sulking. Numbly, she fixed the stool and cleaned the now abandoned dishes, then changed into her pajamas. Brushing her teeth, Laurel pouted at the perfectly working and leak free sink. She slid into bed, even though she wasn't really tired, it just seemed like the thing she should be doing. Eventually her eyes closed and Laurel slipped into some semblance of sleep.
Her door slammed open and Laurel jumped up with a start, clutching the pepper spray that was strategically placed on her bedside table. James strode into the room with a determined and slightly unhinged look in his eye.
"James, what the hell are-?" Laurel's sentence was cut off abruptly when James took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Laurel's mind shut down and her main awareness was the extreme temperature difference in the hands that were firmly placed on her cheeks and his lips moving against hers. Her entire body was tingling and she was trying not to melt. But as soon as it started, it was over and James pulled away, then ran a shaky hand through his hair. He backed away, his eyes wild and then spinning around on his heel, he left, shutting the door behind him.
Laurel stared at the closed door, listening to the apartment door open and close. Her mind had completely lost the ability to function, and she blankly said the first thing that entered her mind."What the fuck?"
Hey look, Chapter 7! It's finally here! I have no idea if anyone will even be as excited as I am that it's finally done, but I am very excited. Plus, the romance between Laurel and James is finally getting somewhere. If anyone has any suggestions, comments, or even ways to make the story better I would love to read it! Make sure to favorite and follow! Thank you!
kath
