Chapter Text
He didn't come here to pick up girls.
Well, girl. A girl.
The girl.
Where did that thought come from? She wasn't even looking at him. And girl was hardly an apt description. Woman. Goddess.
Oh for heaven's sake...pull your shit together.
James buried his nose back into his book, trying to quell the strange feeling that had taken hold of his body the instant she had walked through the door. The warm, beaming smile she had given the man across the table as she sank into the seat next to the lucky bastard had turned his stomach into a gold medal gymnast. And he had become consumed by one thought. How could he get her to smile like that at him?
He groaned and prayed to the gods of science fiction, of which there were many, that the leader would start the group soon. The sooner they started, the sooner he could leave. And never come back. He had joined the book club as a last ditch effort to be social. Something his therapist had suggested two weeks ago, some nonsense about work interactions not being enough. Apparently, the ten year anniversary of his parents death was "triggering a relapse".
He shifted irritably in his seat. This was supposed to be a distraction, not--the blonde laughed at something the man beside her had said, the light sound effectively derailing his thoughts. He watched her from above his book still raised in the air, under the pretense of reading but studying her instead. Her hair was a soft honey color, but judging by the darker shade of her eyebrows it wasn't her natural shade. She had amber eyes that he felt could pierce into his very soul if she would only look his way. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her full pink lips. He flushed and hid behind his book.
Come on, James. You aren't sixteen, stop it.
Maybe he would get lucky and she wouldn't show up next week. Science Fiction didn't really seem like it would be her genera anyway.
"If I could have your attention please," a feminine voice cut across the chatter of the group of fifteen or so.
James looked up, curious.
The blonde was smiling, looking around the group. Her eyes locked with his and he felt his world narrow to nothing but her.
"My name's Rose. Rose Tyler. I'm the head of this book club."
Shit.
If he knew what was good for him, he should run. Run for his life.
Too bad that was one aspect of his life he never could get a handle on.
.....
The week in between meetups had been spent haunted by her laugh and her smile. His coworkers had given him odd looks as he had a one sided argument with the office printer. Mr. Mott, his therapist, had caught on to his distracted behavior quickly. James remained silent as to the cause during the entire session. Mr. Mott's mischievous smile and "have fun at book club" as James had left his office told him that the old man somehow knew anyway.
Pacing outside the window to the bookstore where the book club was scheduled to meet in five minutes, he was still arguing with himself as to whether or not he should go inside. Spinning on his heel to begin his next pass, he collided with something small and firm. Books fluttered and tumbled to the pavement. His hands shot to the waist of the woman he had accidentally plowed into, trying to keep her upright, as her hands tightly gripped his biceps.
Woman?
Blinking rapidly, his vision finally focused on the person whose hips were pressed firmly into his. He swallowed hard, entranced by her long lashes as she did the same. Her eyes sharpened and then lifted to meet his. A slow smile bloomed across her face. His heart stopped beating and he was frozen to the spot.
"Hello," Rose said, her voice breathy and soft. A tremor ran down his spine.
"Hello," he repeated, unable to stop himself from grinning goofily back at her. They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Her eyes this close were mesmerizing, flecks of gold sparkling in the light as if she carried stardust in her soul.
"Excuse me miss, is this yours?" A polite teenager with acne spots dotting his face was holding up one of the books that had been a casualty in their collision.
James and Rose pulled apart, detaching little by little like the slow drag of a zipper. Hands trailed over forearms, fingers brushed absently against each other as if their bodies were loathe to separate.
"Yes! Thank you!" Rose responded to the youth, taking the book from his hands.
James shook himself, remembering where he was.
"I'm sorry. I am so sorry," he blurted, stooping to pick up the rest of her dropped items so she wouldn't have to. After creating a lopsided stack with the remaining books, he shot to his feet to quickly for his blood flow to keep up. He squinted, trying to fight the wave of dizziness and continuing to mutter apologies.
She giggled as she took the books from his outstretched hands. "It really is ok."
"I'm normally not that clumsy," he rambled as he ran a hair through his hair, making it stand on end. "Well, when I say normally, I mean I'm not usually...er...out and around people. So I don't know that you can really--"
"Hey," she interrupted gently, placing a hand on his chest, "I promise it's alright. No harm done. Besides, it's not everyday I find myself in the arms of someone gorgeous."
He felt his jaw drop to the pavement. Surely she wasn't talking about himself? There was no way she meant him. No, no, no.
"See you inside." With a wink and a pat to his chest, she walked around him and into the building.
"Yup," he muttered to himself, running a hand over his hair in attempt to calm it, "Still got it."
Although, “what” exactly he still had...he didn't really know.
.....
A month went by and James still went to the book club meetings every week. The group had picked the first book in the Weaving Through Time series to read over the course of the next few months. He’d already read the book, of course, and was completely caught up on as far as the series went to date. But he decided to keep that information to himself. He didn’t have to participate in the discussions. He could just sit back and listen. Although he did pipe up now and again to avoid looking like a complete nutter.
Rose proved to be not only exceptionally personable but also far more knowledgeable about Science Fiction than he had initially given her credit for. So he couldn't understand why people were slowly beginning to not show up.
…..
When he showed up the following week and it was just the two of them, James was sure she was going to cancel the whole thing. The sinking dread had burst into pure joy when she had simply shrugged her shoulders and said, "I'm game if you are?"
He was very much game. He just didn't think she was playing the same game he was.
Come the end of the meeting, two hours after they usually ended, he was no longer sure that they were playing different games. Not only had she given him the same smile that had ensnared him from day one, he had also discovered another, even better smile. Which honestly shouldn't even be possible. But the way his heart stuttered in his chest every time her pink tongue peeked out between her teeth was telling him otherwise.
They had spent the three hours discussing almost every sci fi author under the sun instead of going over the reading. Not only was Rose Tyler drop dead gorgeous. She was extremely intelligent. Maybe not always in the book smart ways that he was, but she had insight into stories and people that he knew he would never have. They had differed on opinions a few times, yet their spirited debates had left him feeling refreshed and amused. It had taken them no time to figure out how to push the other one to the point of mind blowing frustration, only to say something the next moment that dissolved the argument in a fit of laughter. He had left the meeting in high spirits, his heart soaring far beyond the clouds.
He was smitten, but refused to admit it.
.....
"So who is this girl?" Mr. Mott inquired, his tone irritatingly neutral.
"What girl?" James deflected while trying to resist the urge to tug on his ear. He had worked with the older man long enough that he knew all his tells, probably better than he knew them himself.
"The girl who's had you in such high spirits the past few weeks."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." James crossed his arms, leaning back in the plush brown chair.
"Especially this week," Mr. Mott pressed on. "There's a light in your eyes that hasn't been there since before your parents died."
"There is no girl," James spat through clenched teeth.
"Alright, alright." The other man shook his head of short white hair and held his hands up. "No need to get hostile. I'm an old man and your therapist. I'm allowed to be nosy."
James released the breath he had been holding, chuckling softly while rolling his eyes.
"All I'm saying is that she, or he, not my place to judge, is doing you some good is all." He smiled fondly at James then looked back down at his notepad, scribbling something on the paper.
James scrubbed a hand down his face. The old man was right, of course he was. He knew that Rose had become an important aspect of his life, a constant he looked forward to each week. Right now he was adamantly telling himself that all he wanted from her was friendship. And if that was the only way to keep in his life until the day he died, then that's what he would do. He just wasn't sure he trusted himself not to muck up the whole bloody thing.
.....
At the next meeting, James and Rose found themselves to be the only two who showed up.
Again.
He had walked in ten minutes early and grabbed a seat. He was impressed with the way he was able to smile broadly at her as she plopped in the chair next to him a mere five minutes later, despite his frantically racing heart. They made small talk while waiting to see if anyone else would show up (he hoped they wouldn't). It wasn’t the kind of chit chat that rotted your mind or felt stiff and uncomfortable. It were as if they were lifelong friends, merely passing the time. Truth be told, that’s how James felt about her. As if his soul had known her throughout its existence and had just been waiting to find her again. There was no way she would feel the same.
He brushed off the painful thought as Rose checked the time on her phone.
“Hmm,” she said, frowning as she looked back at him. “Seems like we’re the only ones again.”
“I don’t mind,” he answered honestly.
She gave him a half hearted smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head and looking down at her hand still fidgeting with her mobile. “Let’s just--”
“Rose,” he injected gently, reaching out to grasp her hand on some odd impulse. A jolt shot up his arm and he had to swallow before speaking again. “What’s wrong?"
She stared at their hands but made no move to pull away.
“You can tell me,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.
“Do you think people stopped coming...because of me?” She looked up at him, worrying her bottom lip.
He willed himself to keep looking at her eyes. “That’s nonsense.”
“I’m being serious, James.”
“So am I. That is complete and total rubbish. Well...wait...no, maybe not.”
“I knew it." She yanked her hand away and rose from her chair.
“No!" He grabbed her elbow, gently imploring her to wait, while gesturing frantically with his other hand. "I didn’t...that’s not, I mean...not like that.”
“Then what?” She shook his hand off, but sank back into her chair with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“Just that..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, "people might find you, um, intimidating.”
She laughed bitterly. “Me? Intimidating? That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it isn’t. I was intimidated by you initially. Well, still am sometimes to be honest," he admitted nervously, tugging on his ear.
“How? How could I possibly be intimidating? Look at me.” She used one hand to indicate the length of her body as best she could while sitting down. James couldn’t help the way his eyes raked over her, following the motion.
“Exactly,” he mumbled. His eyes snapped back up to hers, wide and fearful as he realized he had spoken out loud. Her cheeks were flushed and her jaw hung slightly open. “Um, what I mean is...not only are you kind and compassionate, you are very intelligent and...beautiful.”
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “I am not.”
“You’re breath taking,” he blurted before he could stop himself.
She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by the loud rumbling of her stomach. She covered her abdomen with both hands, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for being hungry.” Truth be told, he was thankful for the diverson.
“I didn’t get to eat before hand like I usually do.”
“Need to go grab something from the cafe?”
She looked over her shoulder at the in store cafe, her nose wrinkled adorably as she turned back to him. “No, I’ll be ok. Anyway, if I’m gonna eat, I want to eat.”
“Well, it is just the two of us...we could go some place to eat?" He drew in a deep breath, panic already setting in at having been dumb enough to ask. "If you want," he quickly amended, shrugging his shoulders and making a face that he hoped conveyed indifference. Inside he was screaming in fear. Fear that she would say no and leave him feeling like the bloody idiot he was. And worse, fear that she would say yes.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Um." Shit. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He suggested the first thing that came to mind. "There's a really good chippy just down the street?”
“Deal.”
They stood from their seats, James grabbing Rose’s books off the table, insisting he carry her things.
“Just so we’re clear, this isn’t a date," Rose informed him as she walked out the door he held open for her.
“Of course not,” he replied with a mock salute and an overly serious face. She giggled and shook her head.
As they headed down the street, Rose slipped her hand into his and threaded their fingers together.
James nearly tripped over his own feet.
They walked hand in hand down the street towards the chippy. She swung their clasped hands between them, occasionally bumping his shoulder with her own. She had said it wasn’t a date. He kept repeating that in his head like some sort of mantra. But the way she kept touching him, and the way she kept looking up at him, and the looks people they passed on the sidewalk kept giving them...it felt like a date.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.
The only thing that made it not feel like a date, was when she insisted on paying for her own order of chips. Which he let her do, of course. Even though it had felt like a little jab to his heart. They stood at the counter and made idle talk while waiting for their food, James keeping a smile plastered on his face as best he could.
With steaming baskets of chips, they found an empty booth in a back corner near the window. Rose had carried his drink since he still had a hold of her books, which he sat down on one side of the table before sliding himself into the opposite side. She set his drink down then looked around, frowning, before snatching a bottle of vinegar from a nearby table.
James choked on his first bite when she seated herself right next to him, their thighs touching even after he moved to give her more space.
“You alright?” she asked, giving his back a few pats before running her hand in wide circles between his shoulder blades.
He nodded while taking a long sip of his drink. The ice cold water soothed the burning in his throat, but did nothing for the heat searing through his veins.
Not a date. Not a date.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back so that she could continue rubbing his back. It was stupid and he should tell her to stop. But he couldn’t. It felt bloody brilliant. And not in a sexual way. Well, not just in a sexual way.
“Next time let them cool off a bit, yeah?” she teased, pulling her hand away and reaching for her stolen bottle of vinegar.
He had to look at her with an arched eyebrow to keep from pouting. She didn’t notice anyway.
Rose was busy poking around at the chips with her fork, searching for the perfect one. She speared one then held it up, peering at it closely, before popping it into her mouth. Her shoulders relaxed and her eyes closed, groaning around the fried morsel in obvious appreciation.
He had a flash of her with her hair tousled and lips swollen, lying beneath him, making the same sound.
“These...are…gorgeous,” she purred after a moment.
James shoveled chip after chip in his mouth, to cover up the way it had been hanging open. He focused on the way his tongue tingled in protest as burn marks formed on his tastebuds, praying the pain would push the inappropriate image from his mind.
Notadate, notadate, notadate.
Rose ate another two chips then turned slightly to look at him, her knee pressing firmly into his thigh. “So...James. How do you know about this place?”
“Oh, er,” he cleared his throat. “Stumbled upon it by accident really. Well, maybe not accident. Was only a matter of time to be honest. I live in the building just across the street.” He leaned back, the arm nearest her wedged on to the back of the booth between them, and pointed out the window. “Can see my window from here. Third floor. Flat 39-B, that’s me.” He had been grinning proudly, his finger pressed against the glass, when it hit him that he had probably revealed something she didn’t want to know. His stomach tightened in a knot. Blimey, he was a rambling idiot. “Not that you needed…” he trailed off as he turned back towards her, caught off guard by her new position.
She had pushed his basket out of the way in order to lean across the table and peer out the window, inches from falling right into his lap. He sucked in a breath and stretched his arm out along the length of the booth, gripping it tightly with his fingers. She looked up at him, face slightly lower but mere inches from his, and his heart floundered in his chest.
“Er, to know that,” he finished awkwardly, barely above a whisper as if afraid of scaring her off.
She broke out in a slow smile, hindered only by the fact that her white teeth dug into her bottom lip. He tried not to fidget under her intense stare. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sat up slowly, never breaking eye contact, and reached for his drink. Her tongue darted out to guide the straw into her mouth before her lips closed over it.
His mouth went dry and he vaguely remembered her insisting that she wouldn’t need a drink when they had placed their orders.
“Never know when I’ll need a place to crash.”
Minx.