Chapter 2
After James went bankrupt, he ended up renting a tiny room in a run-down part of the city.
He wouldn't let me in, so I just squatted outside his door, playing the pity card for all it was worth.
The neighborhood was a jumble of all sorts of people, with folks constantly coming and going, checking me out like I was some kind of spectacle.
Suddenly, the door behind me swung open, and James grabbed my arm, yanking me inside.
"Get lost!" Before shutting the door, he gave the old man outside a frosty look and snapped.
James had just come out of the shower, still steaming, and had just thrown on a pair of sweatpants.
He didn't even seem to feel the cold.
"So you're that desperate to throw yourself at me now?" He scoffed, his tone full of sarcasm.
"What if I am? Would you come home with me then?" I teased, refusing to back down.
"Which home?" he shot back, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"Mine," I replied, not missing a beat.
He let out a mocking laugh. "Still not giving up, are you?"
Okay, fine. I wasn't.
His gaze slowly shifted, like he was starting to see me in a whole new light.
But then my stomach growled, loud and embarrassingly clear.
I hadn't been eating right these days, too busy running around trying to find him. Now I was totally running on empty.
"I'm hungry," I said, just putting it out there.
He got up with a resigned look and started rummaging for something to eat.
"Only instant food," he muttered.
"You don't cook?" I asked.
I opened the fridge—just booze, nothing else.
He used to be so picky about food, always making sure every meal had a good balance of meat and veggies. It was hard to imagine him living on instant food.
"I don't want that. I want real food," I insisted, refusing to settle for instant food.
"Take it or leave it," he shot back, his tone icy.
He turned to walk away.
I grabbed onto him for dear life, almost climbing onto him.
Annoyed by my persistence, he finally pulled out his phone and started ordering delivery for me.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked, sounding resigned.
"Fried chicken," I said right away.
Once he'd placed the order, I sent him 300 dollars.
He was flat broke, and here I was making him splurge on something this expensive. This one meal probably cost more than what he ate in days.
"What, you trying to keep me now?" he snapped, his voice sharp.
"Not happening," he said, shutting me down.
Of course. He still wouldn't take the money.
Then the takeout arrived—enough food for an army. James sat down to eat with me.
"Bet this is the best thing you've eaten in weeks, huh?" I teased.
"Just eat," he shot back.
James shoved a drumstick into my mouth before I could say another word.
I took my time, stretching the meal out until it was past one in the morning.
"Oh no, it's so late. And I'm a girl, you know. Is it really safe for me to go home alone right now?" I said, playing up the damsel-in-distress angle.
James just gave me that look like he saw right through me, but didn't call me out. He tossed me a shirt.
"The bed's yours. But you're out of here first thing in the morning," he said, his tone icy.
He thought he could just kick me out? Fat chance.
No way I was making it that easy for him.