Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t h i r t y - o n e ≈

"More like from being in my presence," chuckles the coloured girl. "Glad to have you back. I appreciate you more than the substitute."

"Wasn't as hot as me?"

"More like she was so gorgeous she wasn't sure what to do when a foxy black girl started hitting on her," sighs Renée, shaking her head. "I'll send over your papers to your office. It's only ten right now, but I'm sure we'll get everything you missed covered in a few hours."

Once Renée had brought all the collected information from the past week on James' desk, she spent a few hours working through some of the reports before heading out for her break. "Call me if you need anything!' she reminded him, already out the door.

A couple hours after opening, James patiently mulls over the bill payments when the smell of coffee steals his focus. A sharp knock barely allows him to sprout a hasty, "Come in!" before the door opens.

He doesn't fight off the smile on his face when he immediately recognizes the small frame. "Oh, the smell of the only love of my life. Coffee."

"I'm hurt," says Janice as she sets out a few small packages on his table, "but not as much as you can expect from whatever's in this box will do to you."

James grimaces. "Do I have to ask?"

"Tax papers. They made us resend them because the substitute made some calculation errors. Brielle was supposed to help but" —Janice looked over her shoulder, as if expecting Brielle to pop up— "I think she's out."

James nods, already prying away the brown packaging paper. "She and Renée are on break. Tiffany's looking over some it right now. Did you just get in?"

"I braved the cold to get you this cup of mocha," says Janice, "and that's all you say in gratitude?"

James shrugs, gulping down the sweetened drink. He hadn't realized how much the energy shock was needed until he'd drank more than half of the cup. "Does asking you to help me with tax papers seem good enough?"

"You sure know your way around women," Janice sighs, before wiggling her eyebrows. "How's it going with green hair?" She'd stuck to dubbing the guy who'd been mistakenly led awry by James' kindness this since he'd told her.

"I think it's actually a crime that I'm too kind," James says, "but you don't understand; his hair was seriously dope. Like it went to the side and brought out the grey in his eyes—" He gestured with his hands to emphasize his words.

"You looked into his eyes long enough to know it went with his hair?" gaped Janice.

James mouth twitches. "Staring? Staring would be a strong word. More like admired from a distance. Besides, I notice things! Like your hair goes spectacularly with your... skin!"

"Flattered," Janice deadpans.

"See," James repeats fiercely. "I'm just too kind for this world."

Rolling her eyes, Janice picks up the loose uniform off the hanger in the back and ties it on, fingers struggling to get a knot secure.

James jumps up with his hands outstretched. "Want some help?"

His hands are already tying the string, prodding and leaving behind a cute bow tie. She could feel James' lean body, feeling oddly warm despite the room's chilly temperature. James concealed a smirk. Janice is too distracted by holding her breath.

She lets it go slowly when James takes a step back, beaming. "Too kind, I know. It's my thing."

Swatting the older boy with the palm of her hand, Janice awkwardly heads out the door to see whether Tiffany needed any help with customers. She stops at the door, turning to see James already settled back at his desk. "Are you going to be cooped here for the rest of the hour?"