The man with the gloves [bucky barnes ff]

12

ISLA'S POV

Why does this city hate me so much? Whenever I wear something light or need to walk long distances, it rains. It's the middle of august. It shouldn't be raining. If I wanted to run from roof to roof with a heavy shopping bag in my hand and no umbrella I would've moved to England.

It's around ten thirty and my sleeping schedule has never been this chaotic. We hung out with the girls last night until like four in the morning and had to wake up three hours later for the second day of orientation. And instead of going home right after it finished, we went to help Gabby settle in in her college dorm and hung out there again with a few people from her floor and her roommate.

We already ate but I got hungry again so I went to buy some groceries before the stores closed instead of ordering takeout like I did the past couple of days. I really have to start organising my sleeping and eating schedule. When the elevator doors open, I walk to my apartment but stop midway when I see someone standing in the hallway.

"James?" What is he doing here so late? And why isn't he inside? "You good?"

"Hello." He greets me back. He's leaned against his door and starred down at his phone until he heard me.

"Are you okay?" I repeat my question and put the grocery bag down, leaning it against my door.

He nods. "Yeah, um... I forgot my keys inside."

"Inside your apartment?" That was kind of a dumb question. I mean obviously he forgot them in his apartment, what else could he mean with 'inside'?

He nods.

"Did you call the landlord? He has a spare key for emergencies." I explain. The landlord has his own apartment here as well but he barely stays here. He's usually in his house somewhere in Manhattan, at least that's what my aunt told me. She's close friends with him and he's a regular customer so she knows all of that.

"I don't have his number."

"It's on the rental contract," I state but realise what I said right afterwards, "which you can't look at since you can't get inside your apartment. Sorry. My sleeping schedule is a mess."

Sure, let's blame it on the sleeping schedule.

"How long have you been staying out here?" I fish my keys from my purse and unlock the door to my apartment.

"Half an hour."

"Did you plan on waiting here the whole night?" There's no way he was going to ask me for help. I lift the grocery bag and take a step in.

"Probably."

"Weird." I mumble not understanding why he didn't just ask any neighbour for help. They don't have that loving and personal relationship with each other here, I get that, but he could've at least asked for the landlord's number. No one would've minded. "Come on in."

"What?"

"I'll give you his number." I walk in and place the groceries on my counter. When I don't hear footsteps I turn around only to see him still standing in front of his apartment. "James, don't be prude. We can leave the door open if you feel more comfortable that way."

After all I am the one who should be worried since I am letting a stranger who could crush me in a second in my apartment. I really pray that all my fears and misconceptions about him are wrong and he's not actually a psycho or a serial killer who'll murder me in my own apartment.

"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Sweet." It truly is. "But I wouldn't have offered it if I felt uncomfortable with it."