A/N - Most of you last chapter: NOOOO LILY NOT FRIENDS!

Me: guys they still end up together we know it's going to fail

Room Service

Chapter 12

Despite all her best efforts and attempts at appearing nonchalant, Lily finds it near impossible to forget the curt nod of James's head and the easy acceptance that had fallen from his lips last night in that brightly lit corridor.

After having spent all these days in his company, she reckons she knows enough about him to read the light that had glittered in his eyes; it had been something new and strange, something not quite in the realm of acceptance. And the treacherous part of her mind, the part that isn't interested in being only his friend in the least, has taken to clinging onto that wordless expression of his with an obsession.

She comes to understand just how screwed she really is—just how bloody difficult this whole thing might really turn out to be—the very next evening, when James and Sirius both return from work and her gaze shoots up to land on them from across the lobby.

"Evening, Evans," Sirius greets with his usual half-amused smile. But before he can move towards the counter like they've taken to doing in recent weeks, James's hand reaches out and pulls him back with a tug on the sleeve of his shirt. The movement, so subtle and seemingly inconsequential, feels like a swift punch to her gut.

With an openly questioning look at his mate, Sirius continues on towards the elevator.

"Lily," James says, head inclining slightly, but he doesn't so much as look her way for more than a couple of seconds as he walks past. And though she manages to pitch a tight-lipped smile at him in response, the muscles of her face ache with the motion, her tongue glommed to the roof of her mouth, a boulder lodged, heavy, at the base of her throat.

Before she's even drawn in her next breath, he's already walked away.

It turns out, without a doubt, to be the most restless day she's ever spent at The Golden Stag so far. Even as she goes about her daily tasks and duties, Lily finds her ears constantly trained for the ringing of the phone, finds herself scrambling in her haste to pick up the handset whenever it does ring, and perhaps most damningly of all, finds her heart plummeting straight to her belly each time it's a voice that's not his on the other end.

Finally, about ten minutes before midnight, she seems to lose all sense of patience and pride, and pulls the telephone towards herself.

"Room Service. How may I help you?"

"Benjy, hi, this is Lily."

"Hi, Lily," he says. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to ask…" she inhales slowly, swallows down the embarrassment. "Have you received any calls from 209 tonight?"

"James Potter?" Benjy's smile is audible. "No, not yet, as far as I know."

"Alright. Can you, um—"

"I'll let you know if he does."

Lily bites her lip. "Thanks, Benjy."

"Anytime."

She forces herself to work without distraction after that, tries not to let her mind wander to the possibility of losing James's presence in her life entirely. Maybe it's foolish to feel so sentimental after having known him for less than two weeks, and even more so when she's been the one to push him away in the first place—but logic and should bes are having difficulty finding place within the sadness and disappointment each time she recalls his blank stare and toneless greeting when he'd entered the hotel.

It's around an hour later that Benjy calls her again to inform that James has placed a request for some water bottles. Mercifully, Lily doesn't have to voice what she really wants to say, for Benjy himself suggests that she can take it up for him if she wants. And that's how she finds herself making her way to James's room once more, feeling almost nauseous with nerves, arms laden with bottles of water.

When she reaches 209, her feet halt at the sight of the door standing slightly ajar. Breath slipping thick over tongue, she reaches out and knocks gently against the wood.

"Come on in, mate!" James calls from inside, and just that familiar depth of his tone is enough to make her heart thunder away rapidly under her ribcage. With a bracing inhale, Lily enters the room; quiet steps that lead her towards the table that sits in the middle of the space. "Thanks. You can just place them—oh!"

In tandem with his voice and the view she catches from her peripheral vision, Lily whips her head to the side, and promptly feels all the air filter out of her lungs in a single rush. James blinks back at her, hazel eyes wide behind the frames of his glasses, mouth parted softly in surprise, hand clutched around the white towel slung over his shoulders. She can't quite stop her own gaze from travelling a path down his neck and collar to his bare chest, to the slight dampness of his skin from his evidently recent shower. Lower still, the muscles of his abdominals and the narrowing of his hips disappear into a pair of plain black boxers, and when she realizes just where her eyes have stopped, Lily fairly jolts in her haste to bring them up to his face.

"Erm…" her voice scratches painfully.

"Fuck, shite, sorry—" He immediately turns around, fingers climbing up to grip onto the thickness of his hair. "I thought—I mean, I didn't think you'd—"

"No, no! It's my fault." She looks away, face burning something horrid as her hands hurriedly place the bottles on the table, all but upending them thanks to her scatter-brained state. "I should have said it was me before I entered. I mean, you didn't even call for me, I just assumed—"

"I didn't—ah, fuck, just give me a second." Lily nods her head, doesn't let her eyes stray to him again no matter how badly the heat bubbling in her stomach tempts her to. The sound of rustling clothes fills the silence between them, and she breathes slowly through her mouth to try and calm the pounding of her pulse, the roar of blood in her ears. After a few more seconds, James clears his throat, and she peeks around to see that he's at least thrown on a maroon t-shirt now. "I swear I didn't think it through when I called Room Service, Evans. To be honest, after yesterday, I expected that you wouldn't—that it wouldn't be appropriate for me to call you up here again."

"Right." She wraps her arms around her middle, feels something sink further inside her. Hollow. "Right, yeah, that makes sense."

"Lily." His brows arch gently. "You alright?"

"'Course."

"Coz you're the one who said—"

"I know," she says, perhaps a touch waspishly, and then winces at her own tone. "Sorry. It's just… I didn't think you'd completely shun me out because of last night. That's not what I expected, and… was kind of surprised when you just walked past me in the lobby, is all."

James folds his arms over his chest—unfortunately pulling her attention straight to how lovingly the cotton stretches over his skin—and studies her almost contemplatively. "Look," he sighs, "This is not easy for me, Evans, despite what you might think. I'm trying to—to keep my distance, not shun you out. I meant what I said yesterday—I'll try to be your mate. But I can't do that if I'm constantly near you, not like I was before. Hell, even standing here, now, just feet from you, is driving me fucking mad because I know I can't kiss you."

Her stomach flips. "James..."

"Bugger." He shakes his head, brows stitching in the middle. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's okay, no, I—I get it." Lily rubs her lips together, takes a step back. "And I suppose you're right. I'm no good at this either. Maybe some distance will help us both."

"Maybe," he agrees softly, conflict playing out on his face as his eyes dart between both of hers. Lily reads the uncertainty in the expression as plain as day, and knows and relates and understands. "Thank you, by the way. For the water."

She smiles, something rueful. "Only returning the favour from the other day."

"So, um—" he looks at her a little bashfully, "Goodnight, then?"

"Yeah." She turns around, allows one last sweeping glance over him that she's sure doesn't escape his notice. God, she's weak. "Goodnight, James."

A/N - There there. It'll get better.