Raw [#Wattys2015]

Chapter 8

Have I mentioned that I am a complete coward? My level of annoyance with my lack of bravery is palpable right now. After texting Maggie to find out if James was home earlier today, I decided to stay for dinner with my dad after receiving her response of yes.

Yes, I stayed here for most of the day yesterday and yes I then stayed overnight using the excuse that I was homesick to my emotionally sodden father. I know, I'm completely ridiculous. Now, after dinner has been eaten, the kitchen has been cleaned, my car has been washed and I've officially and completely run out of excuses not to go home, I'm sitting in the driveway next to James' truck trying to work up the courage to go inside.

Deciding that fifteen minutes is a more than adequate amount of time to fret over whether or not James is in his bedroom or not, I finally emerge from the safety of my car and walk towards the house.

The light in the living room is on, providing a dull light shining onto the porch. Taking a long, deep breath I unlock the door and walk inside.

"Hey you!" James' voice crashes into me, pleasantly prickling every inch of my skin. "I was beginning to wonder if I needed to send out a search party."

Smiling through my nervousness, I turn away from him to shut the door. "I was with my dad. He isn't well."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is he okay now?"

Nodding as I walk through the living room towards the hall, I respond with a simple, "yes."

"Good. Hey, where you going?"

I stop walking and glance over at him. He has shifted towards the edge of the couch. "It's late, I was just going to go to bed."

The crease he makes between his eyebrows when he is confused is the most adorable thing. It makes me want to tell him more lies to confuse him just so that I can look at it, or perhaps trace it with my fingertips. "Rory, it's eight o'clock."

"Well, eight o'clock is late for some people," I argue. "Besides it's Sunday night and I have to work tomorrow."

"Do you always go to bed at eight o'clock?" he challenges.

I know what he is doing. He is reading me by my emotions, just like I do to him. He has caught me with my hand in the cookie jar and is calling my bluff. "Sometimes." I lie again, averting my eyes.

"So, if I ask Maggie if you go to bed at eight o'clock on work nights, is she going to tell me yes?"

I roll my eyes.

He smiles, realizing that he just won and will be getting his way. "That's what I thought. Go put down your stuff and come join me. I just rented a movie."

I cross my arms over my chest, in mock defiance. "Fine. What movie is it?"

"World War Z," he informs me, not bothering to hide his huge grin, probably assuming that I'm like every other girl and will hate watching a movie about zombies. He couldn't be more wrong because what he doesn't know is that I loathe chick-flicks with a serious passion and would choose a gory, horror movie over one of those horribly cliché films any day.

Smiling back at him, I keep my voice light. "That sounds perfect."

I turn and sprint down the hall before he can respond again, quickly throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. My mood has shifted from nervous to giddy during that sixty-second conversation and I'm suddenly eager to settle down on the couch next to him.

My fickleness regarding my feelings is going to wear me down eventually and I know that sooner than later I'm going to have to commit to one feeling or the other. But for now, I am going to continue whatever this is that is developing between James and I, ignoring the fact that we should probably talk about it and enjoy my night with him.