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

Chapter III

"I don't even know where to start." you said, placing your cup on one of the tables in the café. "From the beginning." he prompted. So, you did. You told him about the day your father told you he wanted you to meet a guy, about that first date. Andrew had been a gentleman, holding doors for you and insisting on paying. You had a nice time. He talked a bit too much about himself, but it wasn't that much of a deal breaker. You were used to being surrounded by people like that. You told him that, at the end of the night, he kissed you lightly before calling you a cab, that the kiss was nice. You told him about your first and only fight, if you could call it that, about how you were probably being annoying and ruining such a nice date at that expensive restaurant. You told him about how, when he asked if you wanted to go to his place that night, you said you didn't feel well. And then the next time, after he insisted and you found yourself sitting on his couch, he had tried to unbutton your blouse and you had stopped him. You told him that, once you had admitted that you didn't feel ready to take that step yet, he had said he could tolerate that. You told him that he had never tried anything after that. He was a good boyfriend, you told him, and you weren't sure why you couldn't bring yourself to be happy about that damned ring.

While you ranted, you kept your eyes on the steam floating over your coffee, which is why you didn't notice how Bucky's face had changed. He had felt jealous once he saw that ring, but he didn't have any right to. Sure, he would have liked to ask you out, but he wasn't delusional. He had seen you once, three weeks before, and you were already taken. He could just offer you a coffee, support and, maybe, friendship. Then, after you told him about that fight, he frowned. When you said he would "tolerate" your needs, his lips parted in shock. What truly made his jaw dropped, though, was the way you talked about this guy. As if he was such a sweetheart for keeping up with your bullshit. As if you were a burden and he was a saint for bearing it.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I talk way too much." you said once you saw his face. Bucky had been so kind with you and you, as always, had been so annoying. Still, he shook his head. "No, no, you didn't. I'm just... surprised." he said, pausing sip his coffee. You did the same. "Did you ever talk about this with your friends?" he asked. He was basically a stranger and didn't want to sound rude and criticise your relationship, but someone must have told you what he was thinking before. "I don't really have any. It's hard when you skip grades and stuff." you mumbled, and Bucky's heart broke for you. Your shitty fiancé acted like that and your father didn't seem to notice. You hadn't mentioned your mother, so he assumed she wasn't in the picture, and you had no friends. He could only imagine how lonely you felt. He had been lucky enough to have a big family and Steve to count on for all his life. You probably didn't feel lonely, he thought. You must be used to it. That didn't made him feel any better.

"It ain't much, but I could be your friend." he said, smiling softly. He wasn't in any position to give you his advice- to dump that scumbag's ass, mainly- and make you feel judged right now, but maybe he could help you like that. You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, I already feel better. That's enough about me, though. Tell me about you." you said, resting your cheek on your palm. Adorable, he thought. "What do you wanna know?" he asked. You thought about it for a moment, then you said: "What's Bucky stand for?".

"Short for Buchanan, my middle name." he replied. "Like the president?" you giggled, and then, once he smiled and nodded, you continued, "Are your parents history nerds?". Bucky laughed softly. "My dad was." he said. "Oh, I'm sorry." you blushed. Typical of you to insult someone's dead parent while trying to be funny. "It's fine. It's been a while. I like talking about him." he said, reaching out to hold your hand to reassure you. "Then tell me about him." you replied.

"Man, he was such a character. He wasn't home a lot, worked like a dog to give us kids and my Ma all we would ask for, but he made up for it when he came back. He must've been tired as hell and he still played with us after dinner, he wouldn't even let Ma do the dish 'cause he said she worked too much between the house and us kids. He died when I was fifteen. Heart attack, they said." he told you. You nodded. "Must've been a great man, the way you talk about him." you said. He nodded, smiling.

"How 'bout yours?" he asked. "He worked a lot too, still does. I used to live with my mom before she died. I knew him before, he visited sometimes, but he was busy. Him and my mom had just hooked up, I guess. I never really asked about it. He took me in, then. I was seven. Still, he was a good dad, even if he wasn't always there. He pushed me to be the best I could be, always gave me whatever I needed. I don't remember my mom that much." you explained.

The conversation flowed naturally. He told you about his sisters, about Steve. They had met in kindergarten and you almost couldn't believe someone could stay friends for that long. When he told you his age, you almost choked on your coffee. "You're thirty three?" you asked, your voice pitched so high that you wondered if your mug would shutter. "It was a bit of a shock when you told me you were nineteen too, you know." he laughed. "You look so much younger, though!" you exclaimed, "I don't look older." James shook his head. "Yes, you do." he though. "I kinda feel guilty I like you so much, now." he wanted to say. Instead, he shrugged. It didn't really matter, anyway. It's not like he could ask you out. When you felt your phone vibrating in your purse, you reached for it. Andrew was calling you. You couldn't help the guilt you felt in that moment, even though there really was no reason for that. You looked at Bucky, who gestured for you to go ahead and take the call. "Hey, Andrew." you said. James' suddenly frowned. "I've been trying to call you for ages, why didn't you pick up?" Andrew asked, clearly annoyed. Now the guilt you felt was justified. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I had an accident with the car, I'm fine, but I'm getting it fixed." you said, leaving out the part where you were having coffee with another man. It wasn't that important, you thought. "We were supposed to go to The Plaza thirty minutes ago. Your father had to call in many favours to get us a spot in the spring and you didn't even come!" he raised his voice. "God, I'm so sorry, you have no idea, I'm getting there as soon as possible, I swear." you said quickly, looking back at Bucky with an apologetic smile. He shrugged as he tried to smile, failing miserably. He didn't catch all of that conversation, but the heard that tone. He really wanted to give that guy a few words. "You better." Andrew scoffed and hung up.

"I'll drive you." Bucky offered. You probably thanked him a thousand times on the way back. "Stop that, baby, it's no problem at all." he responded the last time. You blushed. Andrew never called you that. You never called each other anything but your names, really. Once you were a block away from Andrew's place, you asked Bucky to drop you off there. He looked at you, a clear question in his eyes, but complied. You didn't want to think about why you didn't want Andrew to see him giving you a ride. It was totally platonic.