CHAPTER 2
~Josh's POV~
Despite only 4 hours of sleep, I wake up refreshed at 5am the next morning. (Don't worry; I'm sort of shocked too.) I don't allow myself to think my early energy has anything to do with my hypothetical excitement for my trip with Donna... I mean business trip. Business. Trip.
I climb out of bed and turn on the coffee maker. Donna has tried dozens of times to show me how to set the autotimer, but much to her dismay, I usually stop listening somewhere around what happens after you add the water to the back of the machine. And that part I know how to do. So on the rare occasions that I am running ahead of schedule, I just turn the thing on and brew a basic pot of coffee sans timer.
While the coffee is brewing, I shower, shave, and dress. I go for jeans and an old Mets t-shirt. We won't be interacting with anyone of importance until after we go to the hotel, so might as well be comfortable on the transcontinental flight. I grab my wallet and phone, noticing a missed call by Donna. Must have been in the shower. I could call her back, but she's on her way anyway so might as well let her think I overslept.
By the time I'm dressed and ready, it's only 5:20am so I quickly pull out my suitcase and do my best to pack. Can't pack my own bag my ass... I am a MAN Donnatella! Just as I toss my shaving kit and boxers in the bag, I hear a knock at the door. I glance at my watch. 5:45… meaning it's 5:30. Right on time. Why am I not shocked?
I run to the door and pull it open to find a mountain of luggage.
"Ugh, Donna? Please tell me you got yourself an actual ticket and weren't planning on stowing away in your luggage? Though that is the only explanation I can fathom for why you would have this much of it," I say, laughing at the absurd mountain before me. She peaks her head out from behind the pile and rolls her eyes. "Why didn't you just use your key?" I ask. She's had her own set of keys since, well, I can remember. And she usually just lets herself in.
"Well Joshua, my hands were kind of full," she sighs, waving her hands at her luggage.
"Donna, we're going to L.A. for 4 days. And it's warm there. Which means, you know, less clothes required. What's all this?"
"Well Joshua, a girl needs options. I need to be able to be flexible with my wardrobe depending on the weather and mood of the event."
"Donna, it's LA. The weather is always sunny and 78. And as for the mood... what do you wear for 'annoyed'"? She squints her eyes and cocks her head to the side in that adorable little way she does and replies, "I don't know Joshua, but I'm prepared for anything, so I'm sure I'll figure something out."
"Ah-kay" I say as I grab a bag in each hand and hold the door open for her.
~Donna's POV~
I glide past Josh in to his apartment. As usual, it's in a state of what I like to call "tidy chaos". I must give him credit, for all the books, files, and folders that are constantly strewn about his apartment and on every surface, his place is completely Josh: disheveled and unorganized, yet warm, manly, and bearing an air of confidence and intelligence. Plus, he has a thing about spoiled food and smells, so he never lets the chaos turn to gross with dirty dishes or anything like that.
I set my bag on the couch, take off my coat, and throw it on top of my bag. I can smell coffee and considering I was too excited to get much sleep, the smell does wonders in awaking my senses. I walk to the kitchen and proceed to prepare myself a cup. I get a mug out for Josh as well, but we both know I am not making his coffee too. A minute later, he follows me in to the kitchen and fills his mug to the brim, adds the usual cream and three sugars, and stirs. He takes a sip, turns, and bends over to place the spoon in the dishwasher. I take this opportunity to revel in the fact that Joshua is wearing jeans today. Jeans that happen to frame the "best ass in politics" splendidly. Not a bad view at all. Plus he's got on his old Mets shirt that I used to wear to bed when I was camped out on his couch after Rosslyn. I know for a fact that that particular t-shirt is well worn and ridiculously soft to the touch. This may be trouble. As he straightens back up, I pull myself together and go back to sipping my coffee to hide the smile on my face that I can't seem to get rid of. I need to change the subject, even if the conversation is one sided and existing only in my own head.
"You didn't answer my wake up call," I say coolly.
"Yeah, sorry, I was in the shower when you called. I noticed the missed call when I was getting dressed but figured you'd be here in a few minutes anyway." Shit. Josh. Naked and showering. Sliding those jeans over that amazing ass. Not helping with the whole "change of mental subject" thing. I chalk these thoughts up to my prolonged dry spell.
I shake my head slightly as if that would actually help. He smirks at me like he knows what I'm thinking and likes it, but that's probably just me projecting. I smile back. Here we go with the eye contact thing again. At this rate, we'll never make our flight. Time to get my head on task. That is my job, is it not?
"Alright, well, I'll hurry up and pack your bag and we can head out."
"Done."
"What?"
He looks at me with pride. "Harvard and Yale Donna. I packed my suitcase already. It's on the bed awaiting your inspection. I wanted to prove I could pack my own bag so I anxiously await your confirmation of my success," he says while holding up his arm, signaling me toward his bedroom. I simply shake my head and roll my eyes before leaving the kitchen with Josh in tow.
We enter his bedroom and I am instantly overwhelmed with the scent of Josh. His whole apartment smells of him, but for some reason, it seems concentrated in this room. It smells clean and like his expensive cologne (CK 1... I know this because I may have suggested his mother buy it for him for Chanukah the last few years) and something that I can only describe as "Josh smell". I inhale deeply as I walk in the room and knowing Josh is behind me, allow myself only a nanosecond to enjoy the sensations. I then see the open suitcase lying on the unmade bed and walk over to begin my "inspection". I've got to hand it to him, he actually did pretty well. Even has his boxer briefs (when did he switch over from boxer shorts?) and shaving kit. Only one thing...
"Not bad Lyman, but you are missing one important thing," I drag out, tapping my finger to my bottom lip. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was staring at my lips now.
"Oh really? And what would that be? I have the a couple suits, shirts, and ties. Socks, shoes, pajamas, deodorant, shampoo, cologne, a few casual shirts and shorts just in case, and even boxer briefs and my shaving kit. I didn't pack my kitchen sink like you, but I don't see what I missed."
"Joshua, what is on the itinerary for Sunday?" For some reason, we've always used each other's full names something like thinly veiled terms of endearment, especially when bantering.
"Donnatella, what does that have to do with packing?"
"Joshua, answer the question."
"Ugghhh," he whines while thinking about it. "Pool party at the chairman's house. So what?"
"And what sort of clothing does one usually wear in a pool?" His dimple filled grin turns upside down as the realization hits him.
"Right. Swimsuit. Well, I can't remember the last time I wore one and wouldn't have a clue as to where I'd have stored it so I'll just have to figure something out in L.A. I have a feeling there won't be a lot of options for swimwear shopping at 6am on a Thursday morning in April in D.C."
I look down at my watch in semi panic. With all the bantering and the Josh in jeans situation I lost track of time. Time to go! "Nor the time to shop. We need to get to the airport. I'll find you something when we get out west," I say quickly while closing and zipping his suitcase. "I'll call the cab. Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah, all set. I'll grab us each a bagel while you get the cab. Oh, and Donna... I don't do Speedos."
This has me confused on two points. 1) He's going to make us bagels? That is both sweet and unexpected and makes me smile. 2) "Speedos?" I ask.
"Yeah, I like swim trunks. No man should wear a Speedo unless he's in the Olympics, and they even have those long suits now so that's questionable. No Speedos. So don't even think about it."
I won't lie, as hilarious as the look on Josh's face would be if I found him a little red Speedo to wear, I have to agree that no man should actually wear one.
"Agreed." I say simply. As much fun as the Speedo banter would be, I table it for the sake of making our flight to ensure we make it to the beach and/or pool at all. Josh seems to accept that, grabs his suitcase, and heads to make our bagels while I pull out my cell and call the cab.
~Josh's POV~
The cab pulls up just as I finish putting our bagels in a bag. Nice little detail there huh? Not only was I ready with coffee made and my bag packed (minus the swimsuit thing) when she arrived, I even managed to throw us together some breakfast for the road. I am "da man"!
From the door, Donna yells to hurry up. And I'm the one who is impatient and bellows? Well, I am, but I'm not the only one. Hah!
I meet her in the living room, put the bag with the bagels between my teeth, help Donna in to her coat, and grab my backpack and suitcase as well as one of Donna's bags. She leads the way out the door with her other two bags and I somehow successfully lock the door with my hands full. What can I say? I drink from the keg of glory.
I follow Donna out the front door and on to the steps down to the street. About half way down, my reign of glory ends as I slip on ice and end up on my ass at the bottom of the stairs with the bags strewn out beside me. We had a bit of a late winter storm overnight and it's starting to melt. Luckily, I managed to keep the bagels safe, but my pride is another story.
Donna at first looks concerned but when she sees I'm fine besides my wounded pride and ass, she puts her hand to her mouth and makes a very feeble attempt to hide her laughter. The cabbie has the decency to wordlessly pick up the luggage I was not able to save and busies himself with loading the trunk. I grown as I stand back up and wipe at the snow covering my rear end. Donna is still laughing as I remove the bag of bagels from my teeth and glare at her with a hint of a smirk.
"Think that's funny do ya?" She tries to reply but her mirth has gotten the better of her. She is now leaning against the cab laughing uncontrollably. I turn around and look back at the scene of the crime to ensure I didn't leave anything else behind in the fall. I see a bit of snow piled up on the offending stair, and have a wicked thought come to mind. I bend over pretending to stretch out my back and grab a ball of snow on my way back up. I quickly turn around and toss the ball of snow lightly at Donna's shoulder. It hits her softly but squarely in the left shoulder. The snowball explodes on impact and the snow covers her shoulder, neck, and chin. See... totally could have played for the Mets with aim and reflexes like that! The snowball hitting Donna surprises her out of her laughing fit and her face registers her shock. I begin to laugh hysterically.
"Joshua! What the hell?"
"Me?! You were the one laughing at my peril."
"You're peril? Josh, your clumsiness made you fall down the stairs with a bag of bagels in your mouth. It was funny and soooo not my fault. You hit me with a snowball. That's not fair."
"Fair? Not to sound cliché, but life is not fair Donna. What is fair is if you get to laugh at my clumsiness, I get to hit you with a snowball." Yeah, not sure about that logic either, but we're going to go with it.
"Yeah, well you hurt my arm!"
"Oh come on! I had to restrain my uncanny strength to ensure I threw it lightly so it wouldn't hurt. You're fine." She rubs her shoulder and pouts. I can't handle the pout. It's my kryptonite. I stop laughing and walk gingerly over to her. I somehow find myself taking over for her hand and begin rubbing her shoulder where the snowball hit. I whisper, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you" while continuing to massage her shoulder, noticing I'm dangerously close to skimming the top of her chest.
While my attention is otherwise occupied, I suddenly feel cold run over my head and down the back of my jacket. My hand freezes on her shoulder and I scrunch up in shock as Donna starts giggling again. Somehow, she managed to take advantage of my preoccupation, grabbed a handful of snow off the top of the cab, and smashed it on the top of my head, much of it falling down my neck. Her hand is still rubbing the snow in to my hair when I grab her wrist in mine and pin it against the car. With my other hand still frozen in place on her shoulder, I unintentionally have Donnatella Moss pinned against the cab, our faces inches from each other, breathing heavily in an attempt to catch our breath from laughing. We're both wearing silly smiles and I again find myself fighting to close the gap between us. No one makes me laugh like Donna. No one gives me shit just as good as I give it. No one looks this beautiful in the early morning light. Just as my resolve is hanging by its last thread, the cabbie slams the trunk shut, the sound knocking us out of our own little world. Damn cabbie! Remind me not to give him a tip. I drop my head and Donna turns hers to the right slightly.
"We should get going," Donna says softly. "Yeah", I agree, slowly dropping my arms and backing away. I turn to open the cab door for Donna, biting my bottom lip in frustration. She climbs in and I climb in behind her. Thankfully, Donna recites our destination to the driver. I don't think I have the capacity to communicate anything other than expletives at him at the moment.
I commence to stare out the window, replaying the events of the last 8 hours in my head. Two missed chances. Yes, I know that Donna and I kissing would maybe not be the smartest move for either of our careers, but lately, I've been realizing that this job is not going to last forever. And I've also been realizing that kissing Donna is not all I want to do. Stop! I don't mean that. Well, yeah, that too, but Donna is more than just someone I want to kiss. More than a one night stand. Donna is... well... she's everything. I know I'm an idiot and I know I let work dictate the majority of my life. Hell, I even enjoy that work dictates most of my life. But the job doesn't have the luster it once did and the immense joy I used to get out of the job now pales in comparison to the joy I get working with Donna, bantering with Donna, being in the vicinity of Donna. And we haven't even kissed. I can only imagine that joy would only be augmented by having something more with her than our current boss/assistant/friend relationship. And yes, I imagine that would be pretty damn great too. We are way too tuned to each other for that to be anything less than amazing.
The feel of Donna's thigh lightly touching mine, as we sit in the backseat of the cab and the early morning gray of DC flies by, brings me out of my reverie. I look down at our legs touching, and then allow my eyes to drift up to her face. She's looking at me with some concern. I can only imagine what is going through that beautiful, blond head of hers, but I somehow feel the need to reassure her. To somehow let her know that I'm not trying to shy away from whatever this is anymore. And hopefully, she feels the same way. I take a deep breath, psyching myself up a bit, and reach over to slip my gloved hand on top of hers resting on her thigh. Even through her gloves and mine, I can feel the heat emanating between our hands. I slowly look up at her face and see her earlier trepidation replaced with a soft smile. Her eyes are somewhat glossy and the look we share seems to communicate that we are indeed on the same page. Now I just need to figure out the rest I guess. Well, what better than 4 days away from the microscope of the White House to see if I can get my shit together? I return her smile and lean my head against the headrest, riding the rest of the way to National with our hands linked and a strange sense of comfort overcoming me. This is going to be a good trip.