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James showed up to the second date in a clean and pressed t-shirt. He was meeting his blind date in the starboard lounge, which was so much worse. Anyone on the ship could walk in on him in mid-date. And he wouldn't put it past the people setting him up to do just that, just for the fun of watching him squirm.
He waited at the bar with a drink, trying not to sweat through his t-shirt. Why was he so nervous? Because there were only a small number of people this date could be—and one of them was Shepard herself.
No. That was loco thinking. Gina Shepard would never look twice at someone like him. And he wouldn't want her to, he told himself. That woman was crazy. Sexy as hell, that was a given, but crazy. And terrifying. No. Of all the people James might be willing to fraternize with, Shepard was the bottom of the list.
Come to think of it, he wasn't sure who was on the list, so he was completely unmoved when his date finally showed up. Bethany Westmoreland, one of the guards of the War Room. James had heard her chatting it up with her fellow guard on the rare occasions he'd gone with Shepard through into the War Room, but he'd never paid much attention to either the talk or the two women.
"Hey," he said easily enough as she took the seat next to him at the bar.
"Hi." She seemed nervous.
They sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before James remembered his manners and jumped up. "Looks like I'm playing bartender tonight. What can I get you?"
"Oh. Uh … white wine?"
"You got it." He dug around behind the bar, grateful for the opportunity to do something with his hands. Finding the wine, he uncorked it and poured a glass, then returned the bottle to its place. "Here you go."
"Thank you." Westmoreland took a sip. "Um … so, do you, uh, do this kind of thing often?"
James shook his head. "Not in a long time. You?"
"Well … on Earth I had a boyfriend, but he—" She swallowed hard.
"Oh. I'm so sorry."
"Yeah."
They were silent for a bit, James casting around in his mind for something to say to lighten the mood that wouldn't seem rudely flippant, but he had nothing. "So, how do you like the food?"
"The food?" Westmoreland frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
"You know, the chow. The mess hall. How do you like it?"
"Oh! I guess … I guess it's fine." She took a sip of the wine, then suddenly finished the glass and stood up. "I'm really sorry, Lieutenant. I thought—I thought maybe I was ready for this, and you know the commander, how persuasive she can be …"
The commander? Shepard had picked out Westmoreland for him?
"But I just can't. It's—it's nothing personal."
"No, I get it. I really do. I'm not sure I'm ready, either," James admitted.
"Okay, then. So no hard feelings."
"None."
Westmoreland nodded and left the room, leaving James alone at the bar.
But not for long. The door slid open again and Gina Shepard walked in. She sighed, seeing James standing there staring out into space, beer in hand. "I was afraid of that."
"What?"
"That she wasn't ready."
"Ah." James nodded. "Your pick, then."
"I thought it would be good for her. Get her started thinking about moving on with her life."
"Can't say I've ever noticed her much, other than in the War Room."
"That's because she never leaves her quarters. Doesn't take her meals in the mess, doesn't come into the lounges. I wasn't even sure she knew where this was. I had to order her to go on this date." She gave James a little smile. "She meant no offense."
"I'm not taking any. I've been there, so deep in what you've lost that you can't see what's in front of you."
"Are you seeing that better now, James?" Shepard's brown eyes searched his face, and for reasons he didn't care to consider too thoroughly, he blushed.
"Maybe so, Lola. Maybe so."
"Good. Now, how about offering your commander a drink?"
James grinned, tossing a bottle in the air and catching it just before it smashed on the floor. "Guess that move needs some work. The rest of my moves, now, those are primo."
"You don't say. Maybe I'll have to see those someday."
Her voice was throaty and warm, practically a purr, and James nearly dropped the bottle again, meeting her eyes, wondering suddenly if she was actually flirting with him. But no. She was Gina Shepard, who could have anyone she wanted at the snap of her fingers, and he was just a random grunt who had gotten stuck on the Normandy when it left Earth. He was barely worthy of pouring her drinks.
"I don't know," he said lightly. "I don't show just anyone my moves." And he waited to see what she would do.
Her eyes lit with humor, warm and wicked, and she gave him that slow smile that he thought he could easily become addicted to. "Neither do I, Lieutenant." The comm link in her collar chimed just at that interesting moment and she left without a backward glance, leaving James very confused, very conflicted—and far more turned-on than he was comfortable admitting to.