Chapter 16 Liana

James' apartment was exactly as Liana had expected: neat and organized, but still somehow warm and inviting. She briefly wondered if Mary Grace had lived here, and if so, how much her influence extended to the design choices, but Liana made herself shut down that line of thinking. Somehow she suspected that James was responsible for the decor, all shades of white and ivory, with navy accents, blonde wood, and boucle dining chairs. The effect was trendy but still classic. She hadn't expected James to live in a dirty bachelor pad, based on what she knew of him so far, but this level of design taste was still impressive. He was just different: a man from another era, maybe, who didn't live the way people expected him to based on his looks and privilege.

James hung Liana's handbag on a hook on the wall, then led her to the kitchen. A pretty curvy woman in her early twenties sat on a stool at the kitchen island, her legs tucked under her and headphones on, watching something on her laptop.

"Kels?" James prompted. When the woman didn't seem to hear him, he tapped her shoulder. "Yo Kels, Liana's here."

She jolted upright and removed her earbuds. To Liana's surprise, the woman broke into a wide smile, bounded off the stool, ran to Liana, and embraced her in a tight hug.

"Ohmygod, hiiiii," she gushed. "I've heard so much about you! Welcome! I'm so happy to meet you!"

Liana was on the back foot; Kels clearly knew more about Liana than Liana did about her, just as it had been in Liana's conversation with Isaac. It seemed that James talked about Liana quite a bit with his friends.

"Okay, okay," James said, "let the woman breathe, Kels." Kels took a sheepish half-step back.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm a hugger."

"It's cool," said Liana. "It's great to meet you, too."

James rubbed his hands together. "Introduction time. Liana, this is my roommate, Kelsey. Kelsey, this is Liana. Obviously," he added, with a half roll of his eyes.

"Don't worry," Kelsey said to Liana. "I'll stay out of your way today. I'll be in my room. I mean, I might pop into the kitchen for a snack, but I can be super stealthy. You won't even know that I'm here. I'll, like, shield my eyes as I walk past the living room so you two can have your privacy."

"Kels," James shot his roommate a warning look. "Be cool."

"I am being cool. I'm being the absolute best wing woman right now. I'm being, like, the opposite of cock blocking for you, while also being super feminist for Liana." She turned to Liana. "James thought you'd feel more comfortable at his place if a woman were here, too. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that he'd never pressure you to do anything you don't want to do, but I'm here in case you feel uncomfortable and want to yell for help or something. But if you're screaming for another, sexier, reason…" she smirked, and then mimed zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key.

"For fuck's sake, Kels!" James threw up his hands, exasperated.

Liana smiled. She was secretly enjoying James' discomfort. Plus, she very much wanted to have sex with James, and was searching for any indication in his reaction that he wanted to also. But she couldn't tell either way.

Liana turned to Kelsey. "Thank you for offering to stay here and keep me safe, but I don't want to inconvenience you at all. I feel plenty comfortable with James. I'd hate to think you were throwing away your Sunday just because you feel like you have to stay here with me."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" Kelsey replied. "I love James — I love him like family, I mean. Not love love. You've got nothing to worry about from me. He's like an older brother to me. I would do anything for him." She beamed at him, seemingly delighted that she'd been asked to perform an important role in James's life by staying home to meet Liana.

"Besides," Kelsey continued, "I'd be here anyway, regardless of what you and James are doing. I'm actually in law school right now, so my social life is non-existent. 1L year. It's hell. My Sundays are always spent locked away in some room or another so I can study."

"That's awesome that you're in law school," Liana offered. "I've heard 1L is tough, but then it gets easier."

She whistled. "That's what they say, anyway. I've made it more than halfway through second semester, and then I have an internship lined up in New York this summer. Big law!" Here she added in jazz hands.

"Amazing. Congrats!" Liana glanced at James and saw the clear look of brotherly pride on his face. Liana felt a rush of warmth.

James gave Kelsey a playful knock to her shoulder. "She's going places, our Kels. She'll be a litigator in no time. I'm sure you couldn't tell, since she's so quiet and unassuming," here James cracked a sarcastic smile, "but she wants to argue in court. She will be one hell of a courtroom presence."

Kelsey stuck her tongue out at James in response. "Before you so rudely interrupted my studying, I was nearly done with my reading for class tomorrow." She gathered up her laptop and a few papers. "I'll just be over here in my room. Oh, and Liana," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "your safe word is ‘orange.' Just scream ‘orange' really loud if you need help. Otherwise, I'll ignore any screaming and assume any noise I hear means you're just having a good time." She had the nerve to wink.

James looked as if steam were about to spout from his ears. "Get. Out. Now," James grimaced, ushering Kelsey out of the room. Turning back to Liana, he groaned. "Sorry. She's… a lot. Just… ignore half of what she said."

"I like her," Liana said honestly. "She's funny. And she clearly worships you as a big brother. It's great."

"Yeah, I've always looked out for her, ever since we were at the same tennis camp, when I was 9 or 10 and she was 7, I think. She played high school tennis here in Miami at Swift High, then got a full ride to the University of Tennessee, but she knew she was never really going to make it pro and decided law was more her thing. We've stayed really close for more than 15 years now."

"That's awesome. I can tell you really value your friendships."

"I do. Anyway, back to our plan for the afternoon." He gestured to the island, which was covered with an Instagram-worthy spread of food, including what appeared to be half of a roast chicken, two different kinds of smoothies, and several different types of bread and crackers. On the stove, she noticed two different pots simmering on low heat.

"Oatmeal," James pointed at the first pot, "and this one is chicken soup. I made it myself. Just chicken broth, carrots, a tiny touch of onion powder and salt, and then shredded rotisserie chicken. No noodles, because I wasn't sure if you would want them. But if you want to add rice, I've got a rice maker right here, and it'll make perfect rice in 20 minutes flat."

"Please don't make rice!" she said quickly. "Once again, you've done way more than you needed to, but once again, this is perfect. Exactly what I need. Thank you. I feel badly that you spent all of this time cooking, though. It's way too much."

"Nah," he replied easily. "I love cooking. I like having someone to cook for. I actually cook dinner for Kels and me most nights. It's nice to have someone else here to cook for today; cooking for two is tough."

"Well, I think you've cooked for about 40 people today," she laughed.

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair. "Fair. Anyway, can I get you anything? Or do you want to start a movie first? We've got all of the streaming services. Literally, all of them. That was the one condition Kelsey made me agree to before she would live with me. I'm talking, Paramount Plus, Peacock, Prime Video, Apple TV, Hulu without ads, and Netflix of course. Kelsey's greatest fear is that the TV gods will suddenly move Love Island USA to a new streaming service that we don't have."

From behind a closed door, Kelsey suddenly shouted, "Ohmygod, Love Island USA ! I'm obsessed! Do you watch it, Liana?"

"Headphones, Kelsey!" James yelled. "Jesus. I'm regretting this whole situation already."

"Sorry," Kelsey squeaked. "Headphones going on now. Okay, headphones are on. I can't hear a thing. Seriously. Hello? Are you talking? I can't tell."

When James groaned, Liana decided to steer the conversation back on course. "Thank you, James." She stepped closer to him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her, causing butterflies to jump in her chest. "I'm really happy to be here. I'd actually love a bowl of oatmeal."

"Perfect. That sounds good to me, too. Why don't you get settled in on the couch over there, and I'll make us two bowls. What do you want in your oatmeal? Brown sugar or honey? Any fruit?"

"I know you're going to tell me I have serial killer vibes again, but I actually like my oatmeal completely plain. Not sweetened. No fruit. No sugar. Nothing."

He shook his head in mock disgust. "You're lucky I like you, Abrams. I'm willing to overlook your serial killer tendencies. Okay, two bowls of oatmeal coming right up. One with sugar, like a normal person, and one psychopath style."

She laughed and ambled over to the living room, where a white cloud couch was piled high with blankets and pillows. She took off her shoes, pulled the fluffiest-looking blanket to her, and settled into a corner of the U-shaped sectional. She grabbed the remote and started scrolling through the TV options.

A ball of gray fluff suddenly jumped out of nowhere onto her lap and settled comfortably on top of Liana. "I'm guessing this is your cat?" Liana called out to James.

"Oh, you met Harry?" James poked his head around the corner. "Yep, that's him. You see that little lightning-shaped scar on his forehead? He had it when we got him, so we decided to name him after Harry Potter. Daniel Radcliffe version, of course. Harry is a total sweetheart. They say cats are assholes, but Harry just wants to be loved. I see he likes you already. I forgot to ask: are you okay with him sitting on your lap?"

"Totally," she enthused, scratching Harry between the ears and eliciting a soft purr. "He's so cute! I've always wanted a cat, but my mom doesn't like them. Not that I'm complaining. We had a dog growing up, and I loved him more than anything. Anyway, sorry for interrupting you while you were getting things ready."

"You're not interrupting," James assured her. "I'll just finish preparing the oatmeal, and then I'll be right in to join you."

After a minute, James appeared, carrying a TV tray laden with two bowls of oatmeal and two glasses of water, which he set down on the coffee table.

"Room for two under that blanket?" James asked. In answer, Liana peeled the blanket back and patted the spot next to her. James settled in and pulled her into his side. She let her body sink into his chest and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Tell me," she asked after a moment, "what would you be doing on this fine Sunday if not snuggling under the blanket here with me?"

"First of all, there's nowhere I'd rather be than right here with you."

"That's sweet. But I'm curious." She traced two fingers down his chest. "I want to know more about you. Your hobbies. Your job. I mean, I know pickleball, obviously. And your charity work. I guess I just want to know more about you."

He hummed. "The feeling is mutual. I want to know everything there is to know about you. About me… where to start? Well, I actually kind of have three part-time jobs."

"Damn. That must keep you busy."

He shrugged noncommittally. "It ebbs and flows. I teach five classes per week at the PHCC, and they're all on Wednesday or Thursday, which leaves me the other five days of the week for my other stuff."

"What are your other part-time jobs?"

"I'm using the word ‘jobs' loosely here," he said, making air quotes. "One doesn't really pay me, but the other does pay me — more than I deserve for it, really. The mostly unpaid one is professional pickleball. The paid one is working at my family's charitable organization. My mom runs it, so you can see why they pay me the big bucks."

"Right, you mentioned you work for your family's foundation. That's what you're organizing the PHCC event for, right?"

"That's right. My main work for the charitable fund is organizing two events per year: one in April, which I told you a bit about, and then another get-together around Miami Art Week in December."

"The April one is the pickleball tournament?"

"Yes, it is."

"What does the art week one involve?"

"It's a fundraiser for the U Miami hospital system. We sell artwork, all made by kids who have been hospitalized. Most are kids in the cancer ward. We set up all of the art in a gallery on the first floor of a building my dad owns in Wynwood. It's right near a bunch of other art galleries, so we get a ton of foot traffic, in addition to the invitations we send out. When my mom first pitched us the event, I thought we shouldn't compete against Art Basel and should do it another time of the year. But it turned out my mom's instincts were right. Apparently you can never have too many art week events."

"Well, there are never too many crypto bros in Miami ready to attend those events. Not to mention the finance bros who fly in from New York for Art Basel just to make the traffic around here hell."

"Very true," he agreed.

"Do you like it? The charity work?"

He looked into the distance, considering. "Yes and no. The work itself, I love. I sit with those kids a lot of the time while they draw and paint to prepare for the art week show. I leave every day sobbing but also fulfilled."

"I'm sure."

"So of course the art event is super fulfilling, but in its own way, the PHCC event is my favorite time of the year. I actually love running an event, I think because I love planning. I love details. And now that I've combined event planning with pickleball? It's kind of a perfect combination for me."

"That's awesome. You said you like your work and you don't. What don't you like about it?"

He sighed, and she was quick to add, "You don't have to tell me. We can talk about something else."

"No, no," he shook his head. "I want to tell you. I just don't want to bring down the mood."

"You forget our conversation over PB quite the opposite. She would wait as long as he needed, and would like nothing more than to spend every waking second with James in the meantime.

"I want to try this oatmeal," she said, deciding to sit on the ground in front of the coffee table. She had a feeling James might be a little hesitant to have people eat on his white couch, though she figured he'd also be too polite to tell her so.

She picked up a spoon and scooped a bit of oatmeal. Savoring the first bite, which had just a hint of salt, the way she liked it, she hummed in approval. "How did you make this oatmeal taste so good?"

"Oh, so you admit plain oatmeal is usually bad?"

"I admit no such thing. I just said this is especially good. Plain oatmeal is superior to sweetened oatmeal. I will die on this hill. Just oats and maybe a splash of milk. A pinch of salt. That's all you need. In fact, even savory oatmeal is superior to sweet. If you haven't added a runny egg to your scalding hot oatmeal, so it just cooks through and gives the oats a delicious creaminess, you're missing out."

"A few weeks ago, I would have said I'm out on that, but with you?" He shrugged. "I'm down to try it. Next time. I've already added brown sugar to this deliciousness, and before you try to convince me that I should also add an egg, and maybe an onion or broccoli or some shit, I'm going to eat my sugar porridge in peace."

"Fair enough. What movie do you want to watch?"

"Lady's choice. What kind of movies do you like?"

"Action movies always. Anything loud and with big explosions. And/or anything made in the 80s, the true forgotten golden age of cinema." She scrolled through some options. "How about The Terminator? "

He laughed in disbelief. "That's one of my top three movie franchises of all time. I think you're literally my dream girl."