ADDICTED | j.p x oc

65

El did end up speaking to Peter and decided, for James' sake, to forgive him, by the time it reached mid February, her anger and almost entirely faded, now having actually forgiven him. He became a lot more present in their lives, after several months of only seeing El and James a handful of times. It had gotten to a point now where people were coming and going from their flat so often it was almost never empty at any given time of the day.

One of the times the place was blissfully empty was February 14th after a late night at the pub, El emerged from the bedroom far later than James—the perfect prick and his immunity to hangovers. He was cooking in the kitchen when she came in, humming to himself.

"Someone's cheery," El commented, massaging her forehead.

He turned, smiling, "what're you doing today?" he walked towards her, kissing her forehead and thrusting a cup of coffee into her hands.

She sipped the drink, "nothing. Why?"

"It's Valentine's day," he said simply.

"I know, i own a calendar. When was the last time i celebrated Valentine's day, James?"

". . .Never, but there's a first time for everything," he smiled. "I got you something," he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out several packages wrapped in red paper.

"James—"

He held up a hand, "i know you didn't get me anything, don't worry about it," he shrugged. "I'm the one who keeps ripping your clothes anyway."

El tore the paper away, dropping it on the floor so she could see what the gift was. He had bought her several pairs of bell bottoms, a few dresses, a new sketch book, and a photo frame containing a picture she wasn't even aware had been taken but recognised instantly. It was from last summer when they had all gone camping, El was sat on James' lap, the pair snuggled together tightly, talking and laughing with each other, illuminated only by firelight.

She looked down at the frame, expression impassive as always, though the corners of her mouth were subtly upturned. "Thank you," she leaned into him.

"So. . .tonight?"

"I'm not going out tonight, James," El said stubbornly.

"Why not? Please? It will be nice," he pleaded.

"I hate Valentine's day. Every restaurant will be filled with couples all disgustingly in love. It's gross and cringe and i don't wanna go," El took a gulp of her coffee and walked away, sitting down on the sofa.

"El—"

"Why can't we just order pizza, have sex and go to sleep?"

"Because we do that all the time. Stop being a moody arsehole."

"S'not my fault— it's genetic," El shrugged.

"Terrible excuse," James laughed, lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips, then chucking the pack in El's direction. She took one and lit it, exhaling the smoke out the side of her mouth as she watched James continue his cooking.

"You wouldn't know, your parents were angels."

"Guess that's where i get it from," James smirked.

El scoffed, "oh fuck off."

There was a knock on the door, "can you get that?" James asked—his attention on the pan of bacon.

El rolled her eyes, standing to open the door, coffee in one hand, cigarette between her lips. Now standing in front of El was a short, plump woman dressed in an aggressive shade of pink. She looked El up and down, toad-like face making no effort to hide her disgust.