Where the spirit meets the bone. (Book 1 of the Illicit Affairs Series)

Chapter II

You soon discovered that Bucky had been right: you would see him soon. Specifically, three weeks later. And it was your fault. In your defence, you were as tense as a guitar string. It all started a week after your encounter.

That evening, Andrew's family had invited your and your father to dinner at their mansion. That should've been the first red flag. Then, you were told to wear something formal. What finally tipped you off on what was about to happen, though, was Andrew. Throughout the meal, he had been mostly silent, which was extremely weird considering the fact that he usually talked so much during these events that you were barely able to get a word in. His blonde hair was slicked back like it always was during important occasions. He kept fidgeting with his fork, hitting it rhythmically on his plate. The constant clinking was tolerable while his father talked business with yours.

Clink, clink, clink.

Then, the maids served your dessert and the room grew quiet. Mrs Barnett shot a pointed look at her son, and the clinking grew faster.

Clink, clink, clink.

Andrew stilled his hands before placing them on his lap and clearing his throat. "Y/n," he started, to which you nodded while taking a bite out of the tiramisu, "I have spoken to my parents and to your father and we've agreed that it's time.". His voice was deep, the tone resolute. It was the same one he had used that time you told him you wanted to take a sabbatical.

It had been a year ago, when you were eighteen and he was twenty four. It was your fifth date. "So I told him to- What's wrong?" he had asked, interrupting a story you were frankly not listening to, and you were surprised he had noticed how tired you looked. You were eating your appetiser, you wouldn't have expected him to focus on anything but himself until the dessert, at least. That made you think you looked worse than you felt, and it had made you break down. You told him about how you wanted a break from overworking yourself. People your age would just be starting university while you had already graduated and were about to start business school. You  had been trying to follow your father's footsteps, graduating high school at fifteen, then enrolling at NYU to study economics. You couldn't stop your tears from falling on your cheeks while you ranted about how hard it was, how you just wanted to be normal, to experience what people your age should have, how you were sleeping for a few hours every night to keep up with school. When you started feeling too exhausted to go on, you took a sip of water from your glass. You didn't know what you were expecting him to do. Maybe he would hug you, help you calm down you, say that you deserved a break. Maybe he would take your hand, reassure you, tell you that you were strong enough to do the exceptional. Instead, he had looked at you with disdain and asked, with that very same tone: "Are you done?". You opened and closed your mouth, too shocked to do anything but nod. Then, he resumed. "So, I told him to..."

"Time for what'" you asked, and you probably should've stopped eating, because you almost chocked at his next words. "Time for us to get engaged."

Clink.

Only this time, it was you who made the sound by dropping the small silver spoon you were holding. You stared at him, dumbfounded, as he kept going on. "As soon as you graduate, we will get married and buy that attic I told you about. My apartment is too small for us, let alone that place you live in." he scoffed. "A nice spring wedding, what do you think, honey? Oh, wait until you see the ring! My boy has great taste." his mother giggled, and you suspected she felt like she was planning her own wedding. "I, well, uh..." you stuttered, looking around the room. Both your father and his had that smug expression one has when closing a business transaction. Andrew's mother was smiling so hard that, had you not been so distracted, you would have wondered if her cheeks were hurting. Your boyfriend, or perhaps fiancé, looked as if he had just said something completely ordinary, in his eyes a hint of confusion about your hesitance. You had though about it before, you knew it was coming. You and Andrew had been dating for a year now, your families's companies had been doing business together before you were even born and your parents had been elated to know that the date they had set up had evolved into a relationship. You looked around the room again, locking eyes with your father who simply nodded. It was a done deal. "Yes." you said, offering a small smile.

Now, you were cursing the moment you said "yes", the evening you went on your first date, the day you were born. You kept trying to remind yourself that you wanted this, you had known it would happen. Yet, you couldn't help but feel unprepared. You were so young, but most people would argue you were far more mature than anyone your age was. You had been dating for a year, but it wasn't that short of a time. The real reason was something else entirely and probably more important than any of those. Still, it was a done deal. You couldn't admit it to yourself now.

So, when you hit a street light pole, you blamed the stress. When you avoided calling your dad or your Uncle Jim and preferred to use that card you had been keeping in your wallet, you blamed the shock. When a thrill shot up up your spine at the "Hello, Barnes and Rogers Garage, what can I do for you?" on the other end of the line, you blamed the October weather. 

"Hi, James. It's Y/n, I was there three weeks ago for-" you started, but you were interrupted. "I remember, doll. How could I forget?" he said, and you could almost picture his cheeky grin, "You called to ask me out?".

"I just crashed my car." you sighed, not in the slightest bit amused.

"Damn, didn't think you liked me that much." he replied, and this time you actually laughed. "Send me your location and hold on, I'll send Steve."

This time, Steve spoke to you. Bucky wasn't there to threaten him, not that you would have known. You just thought he was shy. Once your car had been hoked to the truck, the two of you got in. "It doesn't look too bad." he said, noticing how you kept fidgeting and bouncing your leg. "Certainly hope so." you mumbled. The rest of the ride was silent.

Once you got to the shop, you dropped on the same couch as last time. If Steve had warned Bucky about your mood, he didn't listen. "The bodyshop is wrecked, but that's all. It should be done in two weeks, tops." he said, sitting next to you. You groaned, not even bothering to raise your head from the palms of your hands. Without even thinking about it, Bucky brought his hand to your knee and stroke it lightly. That made you look up at him.

"There she is." he smiled softly and you did too. "This ain't about the car, uh?" he asked, his thumb now drawing circles on your lower thigh. You sighed and shook your head. "I guess you could call it relationship drama. Or family drama, even. Everything drama, really." you responded. He nodded silently. Then, after a few moments, he looked at your left hand. "Relationship drama with that ring on your finger?" he asked. "More like relationship drama because of that ring on my finger." you said, looking at it, "Didn't think you would notice." 

"That rock's kinda hard to miss." he murmured. It was true, the ring wasn't subtle at all. "Yeah, I guess that's the point." you said. "You wanna talk about it?" he offered. You did, and you needed to. Still, James was working, and that's what you told him. "I own this place, I make the rules." he said, "Let's grab a coffee."