Captain America PJ's

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

I shoot upright, bleary eyed and groggy.

"Wassgoinon?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

Ding-dong.

It takes me a good two minutes to realise that the sound which invaded my sleep was in fact the doorbell. I glance at the clock on my nightstand before climbing out of bed doggedly. It's 11:43am – who could it be? I pull on my night gown to cover up my worn, slightly holey and oversized Captain America pyjamas, and slip on my fluffy bunny slippers. I take one look at myself in the massive wardrobe mirror and cringe at the dirty blonde nest I call my hair, before grabbing a bobble and yanking it up into some form of bun.

Ding-dong.

"Coming, coming! Jeez."

I hurry to the door, grabbing the keys hooked on a peg in the corridor. I peer through the eyehole to see who it is, and find a guy around my age. He's facing away from me, and seems to be communicating with someone. He has a toolbox in one hand, the other constantly running through his slightly shaggy, sandy blond hair. His torn flannel shirt is so big it almost reaches his knees, wafting around his paint-splattered jeans like a tent, and his hair is sticking up all over the place because of his non-stop hair messing. I remember my mother saying something about a builder or someone coming over to put together the rest of the furniture, but I wasn't expecting someone until at least the weekend and definitely not someone my age.

As I peek up at him, he angrily lifts the hand holding his toolbox and waves it around in a heated gesture. He moves slightly to the side while doing so and I spot a truck parked at the bottom of my drive, with Jones & Son printed on the side. The beefy, ruddy-faced driver is motioning at the guy on my porch with equally heated hand movements, and I blush as I realise my slowness is causing them to argue.

I can't remember his name but I'm pretty sure this is the guy my mom was talking about, so I shrug and open the door for him – or try to, anyway. The key doesn't seem to want to go in, and I find that there is some sort of chain bolting it closed on top of that. Great. Now he's going to think I can't be bothered to open the door. I squint through the eyehole again only to see that the guy is shaking his head irately at the driver and is stepping off the porch and down the path. Damn it.

"No! Hey! Wait…"

I bang on the door and when he doesn't turn (which means there's a high chance he's deaf because hello, my hands are all pink I was knocking on the door so hard) I run to the window next to it and rap my knuckles on the cool glass. His head snaps around like a little dog that's smelled a treat and I snort loudly, before he swivels around and my laughter dies in my throat.

Great. This is just great.

Any more hot guys I should know about? My neighbour, my builder guy, what next? My teacher? I feel myself getting flustered and mentally slap myself. Get a grip, woman.

He looks at me for a second and I see a faint pink colour tinge his (perfect) cheeks, and his fingers fumble around the toolbox for a second. I feel a jolt of surprise – did he fumble because of me? I suddenly realise that I'm wearing the oldest pyjamas I own, and that my hair is a complete mess, and my own cheeks colour in response.

I try not to ogle as he walks back up towards me. He calls over his shoulder at the driver, who rolls his eyes and drives away, probably to park somewhere down the road. As he walks back to the porch, I take a moment to admire him. Straight nose, tanned skin, obvious muscle beneath the billowing shirt; his hair reflects the sunlight and absorbs it at the same time, causing the strands to practically shimmer gold – not in a glittery vampire fairy way, mind you. His black Ray-Ban glasses make him look absolutely adorable, and he keeps pushing them up his nose, as if he's a little nervous. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

I hold up my finger as he approaches and he pauses, looking at me questioningly. I shake my head quickly and beckon him towards the window, and I quickly manage to unlock it and slide it up. I stand on my tiptoes and wait for him to come over, and he stops right in front of me, bending down to put the toolbox on the ground and then standing and looking at me, his eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

"Hey. I mean h-hi, hello," I say hurriedly. Hey?

He chuckles, a deep baritone sound which warms my toes.

"Hello," he smiles. "I'm here to put together some furniture and sort some stuff out for Mr and Mrs Morgan?"

"I'm Cammie." My smile freezes in horror. Why did I do that? Why did I do that?

"Nice to meet you, Cammie. I'm Adam." He chuckles again, bemused.

"I-I mean yeah, they're my parents, but they aren't here at the moment, it's just me, just me and you today."

"Okay, that's alright. Now, can you tell me…?" He leans forward slowly. "How come we're talking at the window?" He whispers this, eyes twinkling.

"Oh! Oh yeah." I laugh weakly. What kind of moron does he think I am now? "The thing is: I can't seem to get the key in the lock. I think it's blocked up or something. And I'm so sorry about the wait, I was, uh, asleep, and I didn't know I was expecting you…"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"How long were you… waiting? And what's with your driver? He seemed a little irritated." I bite my lip, suddenly awkward.

"Not that long," he smiles, and I know that he's lying. "And him, ha. He's just annoyed he had to work on a Thursday because it's normally his day off. But I sent him back anyway, I'm sure I can do you myself. Just need my toolbox." He nudges the box with his foot.

"Uh…" I smile uncertainly and he blanches, realising what he said and what it sounded like.

"Wait, no! Not like that! I didn't mean do you! I meant… your job, you know… the furniture…" He trails off, going pink and pushing his glasses up his nose. I giggle.

"I know what you meant, Adam." I smile at him, trying out his name on my tongue. He shakes his head in embarrassment and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Let me try the door again," I say, changing the subject. He looks at me gratefully and I tell him to wait there. I wiggle the key around for a good four minutes before it finally comes unstuck, and I open the door to let him in.

"Come on in."

He steps inside and I close the door behind me. I hear him mumble 'wow' and he makes to take off his dirty trainers, but I shake my head and wave him off.

"Don't worry about those."

I see him look at me sceptically but I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs, sliding them back on.

"Through here, all I need doing is the dining room: the table and chairs and that big cabinet, and do you think you could put up the mirror, too?" I ask hopefully.

"Sure thing," he smiles warmly. Opening his toolbox, he starts taking everything out and laying them on a cloth on the floor. I linger for a few seconds and he looks up, puzzled.

"Oh! I'll just, uh, go get dressed."

"Okay," he says, a little bemused. He pushes up his glasses and looks at the floor as I turn to go.

"Cammie?"

I stop and turn. "Mhm?"

"Nice... nice pyjamas."

xxxxx

I try not to let the fact that I have a boy in my house deter me from finding something to wear. I gather up my clothes and lay them on my bed before going to my bathroom for a quick shower, hopping over the mountains of half-unpacked boxes lying all over the floor. I let out a sigh of content as the hot, steaming water washes away the tiredness of the morning and I emerge from the shower in record time, wrapping a towel securely around me while steam clouds everywhere. I reach out to wipe the mirror, the squeaking sound shooting through my ears as I intently study the face staring back at me. Big, rather tired looking blue eyes, pale skin, slightly scraggly blonde hair. The longer I stare at my reflection, the worse my self-evaluation becomes - the few spots on my forehead become redder and larger, the dark circles beneath my eyes become more purple, more baggy. I shake my head, turning away. Looking too long at the mirror doesn't do anyone any good.

I walk out the bathroom and towards the clothes on my bed. Just as I'm about to drop the towel and change, however, I quickly look up. No way am I risking it.

I shuffle towards the window, tugging my towel up. Because I've broken the curtains, I have nothing shielding my room from… his. I grab the mound on the floor and carefully lift it, draping it over the half broken pole. It stays up and I breathe a sigh of relief. I might ask Adam if he can fix it for me. I blush at the thought of a boy in my room.

I get dressed at top speed. I pull on my t-shirt, emblazoned with the words 'Valar Morghulis', and my black skater skirt follows suit. I slip on my fluffy slippers again and put my hair back up into a messy bun because it's far too hot to leave it down, hoping he won't judge my obsession of all things nerdy. After a quick coat of mascara and a spritz of perfume, I'm ready to go back down.

I seriously can't believe I have a hot guy in my house. I'm finding it hard to come to terms with.

The sound of banging and drilling travels towards me as I go downstairs and when I go to the dining room I see him bent over the half-made table, hammering something in place. He's removed his glasses and is wearing safety goggles instead, and he's more than a little sweaty. He's taken off his flannel shirt to reveal a close-fitting white t-shirt underneath – what is it about white t-shirts?

"Hi," I give him a small wave.

I see his eyes travel up my body and I flush. Maybe wearing a skirt wasn't such a great idea. However, his eyes don't linger and they snap straight up to my own.

"Hey." He stands up, wipes his hands on a raggedy towel and then drags it across his forehead. He studies my face for a few seconds and looks a little pained. He finally speaks.

"Valar Dohaeris."

A smile spreads across my face. "You like Game of Thrones?" I ask excitedly.

"Who doesn't? It's one of the best freaking creations on this planet."

"Got that right," I laugh.

He pushes up his glasses. "Oh, uh… I'm almost done with the cabinet now. Took less time than I expected, actually. All I need to do is put the mirror up."

"Thanks," I smile. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Yeah, actually," he says gratefully. "That'd be perfect."

"Orange juice okay?"

"Great," he smiles.

"Be right back." I get him a glass of iced juice and he takes it, drinking it in two huge gulps.

"Thirsty?"

"A bit," he shrugs, a soft pink colour painting his cheeks again.

"Why don't you have a break? I'm sure the chairs won't miss you too much," I smile.

"Why not?" He sits on a clear piece of floor, taking off his safety goggles and putting his glasses back on, and I join him.

"So, when did you move? Are you going to Roseville High?

"I only got here yesterday, actually. And yeah, I'll be a senior. How about you? Do you go there?" I ask, hope blossoming in my chest.

"Yeah, I do." He doesn't sound too thrilled about it. "I'm going to be a senior this year too. So hey, classmate." He nudges my shoulder and I laugh.

"Is it… a nice school?"

He laughs.

"It isn't bad. But it's… how should I put it." He pauses and thinks. "The majority of people who go there are extremely rich." I shift uncomfortably. "And I don't have anything against that. But the students themselves… they're very selective on who they're friends with. Basically, every other girl is a Regina George and every other boy is a bigger asshole than the one before."

"Perfect," I sigh.

"But obviously, you're not every other girl, and I'm not every other boy," he winks.

"Duh." I chuckle. "You've seen Mean Girls?" I ask teasingly.

He looks away, embarrassed, and goes to push his glasses up again. "Possibly."

"There's nothing wrong with that!" I smirk.

"Shut up."

I laugh at his pink face, suddenly thinking of something - or someone - to ask him about.

"Hey… do you know someone called Zach Goode?"

His smiles slides of his face. "Why?"

"Um… He lives next door. I don't know anything about him and my mom wanted me to 'make friends'." I laugh but he doesn't join me.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make friends with him. He's a dick." He doesn't meet my eyes.

"Okay…" I say slowly. "Can I ask why?" For some reason I'm annoyed.

"He bullied me," he says shortly. "In middle school. He's not a good person - at least, he wasn't."

I look at him guiltily. "I'm sorry. Why did he do it? If you don't mind me asking, that is," I add hurriedly.

He pauses, sighing. Still avoiding my eyes, it takes a while for him to reply.

"Popular, sporty boys always make fun of the spotty, brace-mouthed nerd, Cammie. It seems to be a basic rule of high-school. What else would it be?" he says curtly.

I try to ignore his abrupt answer. "Huh. Well, I think it's stupid."

A somewhat forced laugh escapes his lips. "I don't care anymore, and he leaves me alone now... I'm still a nerd at heart, though, so don't you worry."

"We can be nerds together," I say jokingly, pretending to be relieved.

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Judging by your Captain America PJs, I don't doubt it."

A/N Hello! Wow, thank you for the amazing response on the first chapter! You were so positive and all the reviews were wonderful - it means so, so, so much. And aw, I love Adam! He's so adorable. What did you all think of his character? Please leave a review if you have time, and speculate all you will about Zach and Adam's 'history'.

Next chapter will hopefully be up on Sunday or Monday as I'm going on holiday for a week on Tuesday. And that one will be about the diner ;)

Now, time for the replies!

foodislifeyo: Thank you, and yes, her luck really was quite unfortunate! More drama will be coming later on muhaha, and don't worry, there will be LOTS of Zach ;) I'm glad you like the plot and characters!

fanficlover4602: Thank you :) and wow! Is this 'more' enough? :')

OhNobody: It's so relieving that you found it funny as I was worried it wasn't funny enough and I was the only person who found it funny or something :') and I hope this is a good update for you!

Sarah: Thank you so so much xx and you're welcome! Your review made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :) I'm so glad you liked it, and it does feel nice to be loved ;) love ya too, darling.

CammieBishop: I will most certainly continue :)

lovewords: You are way too nice, I'm blushing xx And I doubt anything could be as embarrassing as Cammie's little move there :') I hope this chapter is soon enough and thank goodness Zach was squealable! Hurry though, before he sees ya spyin through his bedroom window...

Guest: Glad you liked it!

TiggerMorgan: That's such a lovely thing to say! Thank you! It's not often my writing is called flawless :) And the pleasure is mine.

Guest: Thank you! I hope this one was worth waiting for...

BooksLover2000: Lul indeed.