Secretive - Bucky Barnes

6 || Chardonnay

[Nova]
»I brought Chardonnay, by the way.« Taking the bottle of white wine out of my handbag, James lifts his head, smiling back at me and moving to the left high shelf in his kitchen, getting two wine glasses from within. Now the table is set fully and the lasagne probably half cold, we both start to eat.

If the skills with his lips were not enough, his cooking skills nail it. »Oh, my God. That is so delicious. Where did you learn how to cook like that?«

»Lost a bet and had to attend a two weeks course with Steve. Never thought it actually was advantageous for something.« Still smiling gently, his thanks wave over to me in it.

Before I can think further than this meaning he probably did not cook for any other girl before, I shoot another question. »You talk a lot about this Steve. Can I meet him some time?« I mean, the saying 'One knows a person when one knows their friends' does not exist for nothing.

»He's, uh, pretty busy these days, pretty into his job. But sure, I can ask him if he's up to it.«

»Great. Speaking of which; there's a party tomorrow and a friend celebrates his birthday there. Wanna join?« I shovel another full fork of lasagne in my mouth, its taste still overwhelming the gustatory nerves on my tongue. It is just the right amount of everything; noodle plates, sauce, meat, cheese.

»Thank you for the invitation, but sadly, I have work to do tomorrow.« he excuses and continues to eat.

I sulk, trying my best expression of puppy eyes. »Tomorrow's Saturday. Don't you have free time on weekends?«

Hesitating, he looks at me, shakes his head and smiles to himself again, somewhat sadly. »I'm sorry, but maybe I can manage to pick you up, if you want me to.«

My features grow from begging to stubborn and cocky within a second. »No, thanks. Lucas already offered.«

I relax right after realizing that it probably is not his fault.
He just is always so evasive concerning the friends-topic. I do not know any of his, and rarely hear another name than Steve's, and whenever I invited him to an evening at mine or in a bar, he excuses himself, mostly with work or having to work early the next day. I promise myself that one day, I am going to drag him to meet my friends, if necessary. They will not shut up about asking me out, wanting to meet the one man that conquered my stubborn and resisting heart eagerly, so easily. »How was work today, speaking of it?« I sip on the Chardonnay, hoping it will cool down my nerves.

Sighing, he tells me of an exhausting day full of both hard physical and mindful tasks. He never goes into the details, but now and then he talks about an organisation that gives him and his team a hard time.

When I want to ask him about it further, show him my real interest, the doorbell rings. Surprised, I watch him shrugging and walking out of the room to open the door by himself.

A woman's voice, deep and forceful, fills in the silence. They talk for a couple of moments, and despite my curiosity, I control myself. This is his life. He is allowed to know both women and men, just as I am.

If it just were not for him looking and pulling the other gender like Casanova himself.

I sit back calmly, until I hear him getting a little louder. Not yelling or shouting, but I am absolutely not used to him being irritable in a serious manner, that the next thing I know is me standing in the entrance of the kitchen, looking directly to the flat's door. James holds it open widely with his metal arm, standing in the middle like he desperately wants to hide the inside of his living place. Nonetheless, I can make out a red-haired, extraordinary pretty woman, her arms crossed and her gaze furiously looking upwards. Her blue eyes are the tiniest amount of shade darker than James's, and she wears a jogging jacket and blue jeans. »You can't just simply say no because you got a girl over. Send her home, this is far more important.«