Room Service
Chapter 9
"Wow, you look cheerful."
Mary's gaze lifts from the register on the desk, the smile on her face enlarging even more as her eyes land on Lily. "Hey! You're here!"
Lily laughs, rounding the counter, placing down her handbag. "What's the news, then?"
"What do you mean?"
She shrugs. "You just seem exceptionally pleased. Finally killed Potter, did you?"
"Now, why would I harm that lovely bloke?"
Having been halfway through slipping on her nametag, she practically pricks her finger on the pin in surprise, and whips around to stare at Mary with incredulity. "I'm sorry? Lovely?! Weren't you feeling particularly homicidal just yesterday because he pestered you with all his calls?"
"Well, that's only because he's so smitten with you, love. Who could blame him?" Mary chuckles, reaching out a hand and pinching her cheek adoringly. Lily blinks, still disbelieving. "Besides… that was before the fruit basket."
"The—what?"
"Check the lowest shelf."
After a prolonged second of silence, Lily bends to do as asked, almost apprehensive in her action. And there, inside the desk, sitting bright and happy next to Mary's purse, is indeed—a small fruit basket. More than a little bewildered, she pulls it out, places it atop the counter. Apples. Pears. A fucking watermelon. "This is… a literal fruit basket."
"I know!" Mary grins, and then cackles. "How ridiculous is he?"
Lily looks up, lips twitching. "I'm still confused."
"Potter apologized in the morning," she explains slowly, "Like, a lot. Enough that I was almost weeping to get him to stop. And then, if you'll believe this, the boy brought a bloody fruit basket for me on his way back from work, like we're farm neighbours or some shite. And then—"
"There's more?"
"He gave me this—" she pulls out a small, folded card from her pocket, and flips it open in front of Lily. "I'm kind of in love with him."
Mac,
Hope you like fruits.
If not, you can throw them at my head. I'll clear my schedule.
Sorry.
JP
"With a head that big, I think he might just survive the watermelon," Lily laughs.
"You have my blessings, by the way."
"What?" She turns to face Mary, grin still stretching over her mouth. "Blessings?"
"To shag him, of course."
Instantly, her face burns, smile gone. "Jesus, Mare, keep your voice down!"
But the brunette simply winks. "Like I said, who could blame him?" And with another pinch of Lily's cheek, she picks up her purse, lifts the fruit basket, pockets the note, and swaggers out of the hotel.
When the first call from Room 209 arrives around 10:30 p.m., only a little over half an hour after the buffet dining ends, Lily lets go of the foolish hope she's been holding onto since Mary's departure; the hope that James would have forgotten about his strange demand and her tacit agreement to it from yesterday in light of his exciting morning at reception.
"Good evening, Evans," he sing-songs, and she's immediately equal parts amused and exasperated—a reaction, she's come to learn, that quite commonly emerges within her around him.
"James. How can I help you?"
"Well, as it happens, I just missed dinner. So, I was hoping you could bring up something for me to eat."
Lily sighs, shaking her head as she pulls her notepad towards herself. "Yes, of course. What would you like to have?"
"You know what? I'll let you decide."
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to do that. I can simply take your order and get it prepared for you."
"Rest assured," his voice suddenly drops, "You're at the liberty to do whatever you want, as far as it concerns me."
"Potter…"
He laughs, the fucking prat. "I'm just teasing, Evans. Seriously, just get some Chinese or something. I'm not too fussy."
Truly unwilling to let her face steam and smoke any longer, something that feels utterly inevitable if she keeps talking to him over the phone like this, Lily decides it's better to just readily accept his words instead of feeding further into his amusement. "Fine. Fine, alright, I'll get you some noodles then. Are you allergic to anything?"
"Nope. Noodles sound great."
"Great. Give me fifteen to twenty minutes."
"With pleasure."
And with a final roll of her eyes, she slams the phone back down into its holder. The call to the Room Service department a few moments later is certainly one of the strangest she's made at work so far; a call that leaves her feeling far too flustered and red once it's done. The lilt in Benjy's voice as he asks after the reason behind her insistence to deliver to room 209 herself prompts Lily to give him the simple but highly mortifying truth: because James Potter wants her to. And with the hotel's strong branding on customer delight and satisfaction being what it is, he easily agrees with a quiet string of laughter.
Temporarily stationing Amelia Bones from Room Service at the front desk, Lily makes her way upstairs with a tray of food in hand close to fifteen minutes later. The steady thump of her heart transforms into a staccato beat just as soon as she steps onto the second floor, the breath in her lungs expanding anxiously—excitedly—as she eyes the long, carpeted, well-lit hallway to her right. But there's nothing to it; she squares her shoulders, rolls her neck, and starts walking.
203, she passes. 204, 205, 206…
A floor-to-ceiling length mirror stops her mid-step, and Lily, despite her every intention to do no such thing, finds herself turning to look at it, checking her reflection on the surface. Her skin still seems to carry some remnants of the blush that had overtaken her face downstairs, the greens of her eyes startlingly bright under the lights overhead. And while a few strands of red hair have fallen loose from her ponytail to frame her cheeks and jaw, the overall picture isn't too shabby.
She slowly rubs her lips together to even out the tinge of her lipstick, and almost the very next second, frowns deeply, chastising herself for caring how she looks when all she's going to do is drop off a tray of food and scamper from there. Feeling thoroughly brassed off at her own actions, Lily stomps down the hall with much more confident steps, until she reaches the designated room; the digits beside the door lit up from within in a fancy glow.
With a deep inhale, she presses down the doorbell switch, and waits.
Quite unsurprisingly, James appears on the threshold in less than five seconds, a crooked grin already pulled over his mouth as he looks at her, wearing simple joggers and a t-shirt. The strange wobbling of her insides disorients her for a beat, but Lily keeps her expression even as she inclines her head.
"Good evening."
"A very good evening to you too, Evans."
She isn't entirely able to keep her eyebrows from arching slightly at that tone. So fucking smarmy she could smack him. "I've brought you your dinner as requested."
"You're so kind."
"Well? Where would you like it?"
James leans forward slightly, one elbow braced against the doorframe, and Lily feels eternally grateful for the tray between them suddenly, because her body seems to be erupting in unacceptable anticipation at his nearness. He smells… so good. "Where would I like what?"
"Food," she chokes out, pushing the tray forward so that it digs into his stomach. James grunts softly at the impact, and she cracks her first proper smile. "Do you want it inside?"
He immediately opens his mouth, the delight on his expression unmistakable, but before he can go ahead and say something that sends a shiver running down her spine again, Lily glares at him, just daring him to try. James lets the corners of his lips tug up at the look, but doesn't say anything beyond a soft, "yes, please," as he lets her in.
She's been in identical suites a handful of times already since joining The Golden Stag over three weeks ago, but the intimacy of entering a room that's in use, that houses a large bed with the sheets rumpled, that includes several knick-knacks strewn about, that smells not of mild air-freshener, but rather headily of its occupant is an experience she hasn't remotely prepared herself for until now.
It's almost maddening how simply entering another room, another enclosure of walls, completely changes the tension coursing through her. Trying to breathe normally, Lily steps forward and places the tray onto the coffee table a few feet away, feeling James's gaze burning hot into the back of her neck even without having to turn around and confirm. A swipe of clammy fingers on the fabric of her trousers, and then she straightens, swallows down the dryness of her mouth.
"If you could sign this, please—" Lily turns, voice quiet as she extends the receipt of his order. It feels safer to keep her gaze trained on his hands as they take the pen and folder from her, quickly scratch on his signature in a loopy swirl that feels like it's been timed to sync perfectly with the swoop in her stomach. "Thanks. Have a good meal."
And there—she's walked past him now, sucked in some air, diluted the crackle of electricity in the room. But then he reaches out; a brush of his fingers over her knuckles.
"Lily, wait," he says, and that's all it takes for an embarrassing gasp to fly out of her lips, for warmth to go crawling up her face. The heat of that contact runs through her acutely enough that she feels the skin there buzz even after she's pulled her hand back.
"No," Lily says, turning around to look at him.
"What?" James breathes out a little laugh, hand rubbing the nape of his neck as his eyes flit between hers. It's only a slight consolation to notice that he's flushed too. "You didn't even hear what I have to say yet."
"Can't be anything good."
"Ye of little faith." He rolls his eyes. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to stay for a bit, have dinner with me?"
"I can't," she says, and hates the guilt that swirls inside when his smile flickers. "I mean, I really can't, James. I told you, this is not a part of my job in the first place, and I had to ask someone else to cover for me while I came up here. If McGonagall finds out—"
"Alright," he cuts her off. "I get it."
"You—alright? Really?"
"Yes, Evans, really." When she continues blinking like an idiot, he adds, "I'm disappointed, of course, don't get me wrong. But you look like you're about to pop a stress vein if I keep you up here any longer. So, I won't—" the flash of a smirk, "—at least not this time."
Lily scoffs, instantly turning on her heel to hide the grin that stretches across her lips. "Goodnight, Potter."
"Night, Evans!"