Glad y'all seem to embrace the changes I made to the story, I guess I made the right decision changing the names around (quite) a bit.
Posting this chapter, originally planned for publishing Sat/Sun, in advance as I'll be away during the weekend (and no interwebs, QQ).
Without further ado, let's find out who Emma ran into in that elevator, shall we? ;-)
"You're in quite the hurry. Running from someone?" A smile that reached all the way to his unexplainably blue eyes appeared on his face, his teeth as white as I remembered them.
"Killian." I was completely unable to get any other comprehendible word out of my throat.
"Miss Swan," he responded with a nod.
It was obvious he had intended to step out of the elevator as it had reached its destination floor, but for some reason he didn't. Instead, the doors closed behind us and I was too baffled to press any button. We just stood there, face to face, neither of us completely sure as to how to approach the situation.
"Odd location to run into you on a Friday evening." Killian was the one to break the silence. His breath smelled of spearmint.
"I've been doing some charity stuff with-"
The elevator doors opened behind my back.
"There you are Emma, thank god you didn't leave yet."
"With him, I take it," Killian added to my unfinished sentence.
"Not really," I mumbled quietly, barely audible even to myself, as I adjusted my body to face Jefferson.
Jefferson had found me. Not that I'd been hiding, more like escaping, but I had for a brief moment completely forgotten all about him and our disastrous 'business meeting'.
I sighed and rolled my eyes at the situation as he entered the elevator. There I stood, with a man I really wanted to get away from on my right, and a man I really did not want to get away from on my left.
"Please hear me out, will you?" Jefferson begged.
It's not like I had much of a choice, more or less trapped inside the elevator. "Shoot."
"I get why you're angry with me. And you have all rights to be. I overstepped and it was rude of me. I just hope you will be able to forgive and forget."
"Jefferson… Whatever, really. See you on Monday, okay?" I was still mad at him, but wanted to spare Killian from any further discomfort. And I wanted Jefferson to leave. Preferably, I wanted him to disappear in an instant in a cloud of smoke, like they do in the movies.
It had taken Jefferson a good minute to realize I had company. His eyes met Killian's as he excused himself and backed out of the elevator. The doors closed behind him.
"Well, that was -"
"Awkward," I interrupted Killian. "Sorry about that."
"Since when did people start calling dating 'charity stuff'?" Killian asked with a curious expression.
"Oh god, no. No no no. I am not dating that guy," I responded, cheeks blushing.
"Sure seems like he's got a different point of view," Killian sounded serious, and his playful smirk was nowhere to be seen. "I should get going. I've got some stuff to pick up."
"Need a hand?"
Fuck. Why did I choose those words? Did I give myself away, did he know I knew about his hand… about him?
"I'd appreciate that," he once again smiled.
I was obviously just being paranoid.
"Emma, what are you still doing here? I thought you left with -," Mary Margaret interrupted herself as she noticed Killian.
"Killian, you remember Mary Margaret?"
"How could I possibly forget?" He smiled charmingly.
Mary Margaret returned his smile with one that reminded me of that of a smitten teenager. I guess I wasn't the only one who found Killian attractive. Actually, the word 'attractive' didn't make him any justice. He was stunning - a dangerous trait in combination with his charms.
"I'm helping Killian collect some stuff," I said.
"I was unable to attend the auction personally, so I sent my…" Killian paused, as though he was carefully choosing his words. "…assistant to place some bids for me."
I faked an astonished expression along with a quiet gasp. And I probably overdid it, too. I wasn't at all surprised Killian had an assistant, but I had to pretend I was. Anything else would've seemed odd.
"I wanted to collect the items myself, to be able to personally thank the people responsible for the event," he added.
"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Mary Margaret responded. "Follow me."
She crossed the stage diagonally, her short heels making a tapping sound against the wooden floor, and approached its right corner.
"This should be all of it. I can't thank you enough for your generous contribution, Mr. Jones. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Please, call me Killian," he responded with a smirk.
"Emma, a word," Mary Margaret hissed in a whispering tone as Killian eyed his conquest, noticeably satisfied.
"What?" I asked as we entered a small room behind the stage. It was probably from there the stage's sound and lighting was monitored.
"What's he doing here?" She asked me, still almost whispering.
"He just told you," I stated the obvious.
"Yeah, of course. But what's he doing here with you?"
"Mary Margaret, I know what you're thinking, but I'm still not seeing him in that way. I'm as surprised as you are to see him again, and here of all places too," I explained.
"Why don't you?"
"Why don't I what?"
"Why don't you see him in that way? He's gorgeous, and it's totally obvious to anyone with eyes and ears that he's interested in you," she winked at me.
"You know I have some stuff to deal with before I'm ready to see anyone," I sighed.
"But a drink with your boss is okay?"
Was she mad at me because of that?
"I just wanted that painting," I reassured her.
"Yeah, right. Painting's the new synonym for penis?"
"Hey, that's very unfair of you! You know I'm working really hard with myself and there's nothing I want more than to be able to function as any normal person when it comes to relationships. Stop acting like a mother," I exclaimed, my eyes narrowed.
As my best friend, she was supposed to support me in my decisions, good ones as well as bad ones, not make me feel worse about myself.
"Emma… I didn't mean to go there. I am so, so sorry," she said with sincerity in her voice.
Obviously regretting her words, I forgave her without any hesitance, and we united in a hug.
"You should go help Killian," she reminded me. "I still have some stuff to do before I can head home. Call me later?"
"I will," I said as we re-entered the stage area.
Killian's assistant had been busy at the auction. Four paintings - all of them with an oceanic theme; an odd-looking compass; an antique, miniature globe; two black brass candelabra; and one big book with a worn leather cover was now stuffed into the trunk of Killian's scarlet SUV, which he'd parked directly below the forty floor building. The car looked new and expensive.
"How could this assistant of yours know that you wanted these particular objects?" I asked, the water vapor from my breath visible in the cold and dark night. Our only source of light came from lit-up windows, lampposts and the traffic on the streets.
"William's been working for me for several years. He knows me quite well by now."
"What do you need him for?" I asked with curiosity.
"I don't really need him," he laughed, "but I've grown so used to his assistance I couldn't see my life without him in it. He's doing all the boring and time consuming everyday stuff, like laundry and grocery shopping, which in return lets me focus on my business."
"And how does he feel about doing all the, as you call it, boring stuff?"
"Hey, must I remind you he's getting paid to do it?" He smirked at me.
"Point taken."
I might have known some things about Killian and his life, but there were still things left to uncover. Jefferson had been calling me secretive earlier, which was nothing in comparison to Killian.
And then, that awkward moment of goodbye's was yet again upon us. I didn't want to say goodbye. Not when not knowing whether or not I'd ever see Killian again.
Please don't leave me, please don't leave me, plea-
"Need a ride anywhere?" He asked.
Jackpot!
I had had my beetle parked just across the road all evening. It would survive there through the night as well.
"If you don't mind," I replied.
"If I did, I wouldn't have asked." That dangerously charming smirk once again appeared on his lips.
I couldn't help but curiously study Killian's hand as he opened the passenger seat door for me. He was using his right, perfectly fine, hand. I wondered if he had any fine motor skills at all in his left hand, with the prosthetic.
"Where to, miss Swan?"
He made an illegal U-turn as soon as I'd given him my address.
"So… You mentioned a business?" I asked him to break the silence.
"I sell boats," he responded.
"Sailboats?"
I had done it again. In this pace, I'd give myself away in no time. Why did I have to be so inquisitive?
"A little bit of everything, whatever my customers desire. But yes, mostly sailboats. I sometimes take on old ones, have my employees fix them up, make them high standard and resell at a profit," he said while looking at me more than he was looking at the road. "What about you, lass?"
"I work at a publishing office. Nothing fancy, I'm just the assistant of my boss, a boss which you by the way met earlier."
"Mary Margaret's your boss?"
"I wish," I laughed. "Jefferson, the desperate guy in the elevator."
"That makes sense. You had me worried for a second."
"Why is that?"
"You told him you'd see him again on Monday. Thought you were going on a second date with that jerk."
"Hey, what makes you believe he's a jerk?" I giggled at his observations.
"He had obviously managed to upset you for whatever reason. Not any of my business, though. Just happy you're not dating him."
"And why do you care so much?" I gave him a playful punch on his upper arm with my elbow.
"I just do."
He pulled over right outside of my building and followed me to the door. He looked me in the eyes as he took my hands in his. The black leather glove covering his right hand was warm from body heat - the left not as much.
Killian's touch, though trivial, sent shivers of pleasure down my spine - oh how I quietly and in denial had been longing for physical contact. The air in between us was charged enough for me to almost be able to touch it, and in the moment, I expected something more - anything - to happen.
What I actually got was a "thanks for the help", followed by a casual, friendly hug - a freaking hug - before he went back to his giant SUV. Confused and disappointed, I stood by and watched as he started its engine. Its lights lit up entire block before it, along with Killian, went out of my sight.
If Killian, like Mary Margaret had been so convinced about, actually was interested in me, then why didn't he just kiss me? It had been the perfect opportunity, perhaps a bit cliché, but still perfect. I had given him my best version of the 'do-me eyes', completely irresistible to anyone... But him.
Any normal guy would've taken my number a week ago by now. This, whatever it was, was starting to get to me. I felt frustrated. Was this what my future would look like; hoping to bump in to Killian at the most random places, just to part shortly after, unsure if I'd ever see him again?
I hovered between wanting to explore every inch of his body, and trying to forget his very existence. The uncertainty of it all drove me mad. I needed certainty and stability in my life, something Killian clearly wasn't going to offer me.
The cold air, its dense humidity making it feel much colder than it actually was, brought me back to reality. How long had I been standing there by my door, thinking, staring? The intense feelings I experienced on the inside had helped me ignore the fact that I was shaking violently, my teeth chattering behind lips almost the same hue as Killian's eyes.
I rarely bathed. Why would I, when showers were quicker and more convenient, anyway. And I disliked my bathtub. It didn't matter how much I scrubbed it with various detergents; its stains simply wouldn't dissolve, but that night I couldn't care less about whether or not I found the tub disgusting. Doing absolutely nothing while surrounded by hot water and white, fluffy foam seemed appealing. I was still freezing like mad from when I'd lost all sense of time and space outside of my front door.
I turned on the tub's faucet, one hundred percent very hot water emerging from it, and poured half a bottle of raspberry scented bathing foam in it. More is always more.
As I began to undress, I emptied the pockets of my jacket.
"Can't remember putting a post-it there", I thought out loud.
It was one of those regular, yellow ones, folded twice on the middle. My heart skipped a beat as I unfolded it.
Emma,
Dial this number once you're free.
Killian
I fidgeted the post-it nervously. Studied Killian's handwriting carefully. Some of the letters had cute, curved tails. Feminine, though not overly so.
When did he find the opportunity to place it in my pocket? And what did he mean with 'once you're free'? I wasn't exactly the busiest person in the world. I even had the time to do my own laundry and grocery shopping; it was more the matter of whether or not I wanted to do it. I preferred takeaway and bought new underwear instead of washing my used ones.
I was free now, if that's what he meant. I grabbed my cell and considered calling him straight away, but soon realized that would make me nothing but creepy. Instead, I remembered my promise to Mary Margaret, and selected her name from my Favorite Contacts list with my thumb.
"Emma! You're home earlier than I expected you to be."
"Who say's I'm home?" I said ironically. Mary Margaret didn't pick up on the irony.
"You're at his place?" She lowered her voice metaphorically, like it would matter through the phone.
"I wish. I literally begged for him to kiss me. I got a hug."
"A hug!? Are you being serious?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"He's either playing hard to get, or he's way too well-mannered. Perhaps he's waiting for you to take the first step?"
I sighed. "There are things you don't know."
"So, enlighten me?"
"It's not that simple. It's confidential information I found out, sort of by mistake, through a client. I can't tell you any more than that, but it changes things. In fact, it changes everything."
"Oh come on, you know you can trust me! Who would I tell anyway, Ruby?"
"I know I can trust you, Mary Margaret... but it's a question of work ethics. I'll tell you everything as soon as I possibly can, okay? For now, let's just say he's not the guy you casually screw and then forget to call back."
I could hear her disappointment and I regretted mentioning it in the first place. I knew knowing something's up but not knowing what was mortifying for her.
"He did leave a cryptic post-it in my pocket, though," I paused. "There's a number he wants me to call once I'm free. I've honestly got no idea what he wants me to be free from."
"Don't over analyze everything, it's a good sign! What guy would leave a note in your pocket if he wasn't interested?"
I knew she was right. I could definitely feel there was something between us. I just didn't know what it was, but if there was one thing I was going to do, it was to figure that out.
"How do you feel about him? Are you, you know, on the same page?" Mary Margaret asked.
"I know I want him." There, I'd been honest with both my friend and myself. "But I don't know why or how. There's something about him that affects me in a way I can't remember anyone having affected me before."
"Sounds to me like you're falling for Killian Jones!" I could hear the excitement in her voice. She wanted me to make as much progress when it came to those things as I myself wanted, if not more.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I gotta go!" I carelessly threw my phone on the couch.
I am sure Mary Margaret viewed my sudden goodbye as an excuse to avoid discussing the topic any further. Truth was, I'd forgotten all about the running water, and my bathtub had started to flood. Water was escaping from below my bathroom door and out to the hall. A lot of water.
Almost paralyzed, I watched as the water covered a larger and larger area of my floor, before I managed to collect my thoughts and react properly. I threw the bathroom door open and a smaller tsunami of warm water hit me, reaching all the way up to my waist.
As I turned off the faucet, my entire apartment was covered in two inches of water, and there was a white, fluffy foam all over my grey, tiled bathroom walls.
And that's why you don't bathe, Emma Swan.
Poor Emma. All she wanted to do was to warm up after that (in several ways) cool encounter with Killian.
Got any thoughts, comments, yay's/nay's, anything at all on your mind? Please do leave a review below, I enjoy every single one of them. Yep it's THAT easy to make me smile. :-)