For the Love of the Game // Bucky Barnes

Part One

The cool wind of Autumn brushed past your face as you swung open the library doors. It had only been a month since the start of the semester, but the librarian greeted you with a warm smile and a familiar wave. Being on the pre-med track would do that to a person.

You made your way to the reserved study rooms, fixing the strap of your bag as it dug into your shoulder. It almost seemed silly to have reserved a room at this time—the library was desolate this late on a Friday—but Nat had been very adamant about you being out of the dorm for the evening, and you weren't about to take any chances with your chem exam coming up.

You mouthed the numbers of the small rooms as you passed them, some filled with groups of students, others completely barren. When you reached room nine, you paused and double-checked the reservation sheet, pushing open the door as you read.

When you glanced up, the flimsy plastic clipboard went crashing to the floor, disrupting the careful silence of the library. "What the hell?"

There, in all his glory and occupying your reserved study room, was James Buchanan Barnes. He was wrapped around some girl you had never seen before, pressing her up against the wall with his baseball uniform bunching up at the sides. He tore away from her at the sound of your voice, a sly smile forming at your incredulous expression.

"Oh hey, doll. You studyin' in here tonight?" He was out of breath.

"Am I—James, you knew I was going to be in here. Steve's in my dorm tonight and my name was literally on the door," you whisper shouted, arm jutting out towards the abandoned clipboard. "You can't pretend like you just so happened to stumble into the room I've had reserved since Monday."

"Jeez, doll, take it easy. Stephanie—" he turned to the girl in the corner "—see you around, yeah?"

She gave him a surprised look, but straightened out her hair and made a quick exit, bumping your shoulder on the way out. You blinked and shook your head in disbelief before letting your bag slide onto the table in the center of the room. "Okay, what's your deal, James?"

"What do ya mean, doll?" he asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"You know exactly what I mean. And how many times have I asked you to stop calling me that?"

"About as many times as I've asked you to stop callin' me James."

"It's your name."

"Yeah, but my friends call me Bucky."

You huffed out a dry laugh. "We're not friends, James."

"How do you figure that? I see you just about every day. Know how your classes are goin' and what you eat for breakfast."

"All of that is against my will. I'm almost positive that if Nat wasn't my best friend, you and I would have been lab partners freshman year, and then parted ways as complete strangers."

He narrowed his eyes at you and smirked. "Come on, doll, you don't mean that. Bet you had the biggest crush on me back then. If Stevie weren't datin' Nat, you would have found a way to follow me around campus all on your own."

"Follow you around campus? This coming from the guy who picked my study room to make out with his girlfriend when there are literally twenty others to choose from," you scoffed.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to offend you." Sarcasm dripped from your voice. Bucky shrugged and pulled a chair out from the table, sitting with his chest to the backrest. "What the hell are you doing?"