chapter four
James wants to shake his hand. Wants to introduce himself.
Wants to… well, do a lot of things, really.
James’ lips curl in an involuntary smile, ever so polite, because he is nothing without his manners. “You’re perfectly fine.”
And does he lie, really?
The stranger laughs. His teeth are shockingly white. James wonders if he uses some special kind of whitener. Or maybe he brushes his teeth often.
“What are you doing here so early in the morning?” The stranger asks, tilting his head.
“I was up early for work. Grabbed coffee on the way.”
“I see.”
“And—and you?” James gestures to his sweatshirt. “Do you go to school around here? Out for a run, or something?”
The stranger raises a brow. “Do I look like someone who runs?”
To be fair, he does. Strong and lithe, the strangers looks like he could run circles around the average person. Not James, who had been through the grueling police training, but certainly someone who hadn’t. Sensing the joke, James says, “Good point.”
“This is where I used to go, yeah,” the stranger says, fidgeting with the sweatshirt, “but I graduated a couple of years ago.”
“Congrats. What did you study?”
For a moment, James is fully aware that he is standing in the middle of the park path with a random stranger, simply chatting. He cringes at the thought. He is used to this. Sirius calls it being “overly friendly.” James thinks it crosses over into “annoying.”
However, the stranger doesn’t seem to mind.
“Psychology,” he replies, easily. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a kid. The wonders of the human mind.”
“It suits you.”
The strangers hesitates. James realizes he’s made a huge mistake.
It suits you? What the fuck? James scrambles, casting around for something to say. “I mean—you just—psychology majors are usually smart, and you look pretty smart, is what I meant.”
There is a pregnant pause.
It is then that the stranger laughs again. His dimple on his left cheek is prominent, and James can’t take his eyes off it.
“Thanks. I’m certainly glad I don’t walk around looking like a dumbass.”
“I do,” James says. “I would like to say I look like a proper dumbass right about now.”
“How so?”
James spreads his arms. He gives him a flat look. “I’m in my pajamas in the middle of the park. At six in the morning.” And then, James is brave. He sticks out a hand. “I’m James, by the way.”
“Everyone calls me by my middle name,” the stranger says, “and it’s horribly long, so you can call me Reggie.”
“Okay.” James shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Reggie.”
They walk, and they talk, and James can’t help but think that fate had come in to give him a nudge in the right direction.
Reggie leaves him by the park entrance, patting his pockets for his phone. “I’m really sorry, I have to go,” he says. His nose wrinkles with disgust. “My roommate wants me home.”
James feels his stomach churn. With a start, he realizes he is quite disappointed. “Oh. Get home safe.”
Reggie goes to leave.
And then he turns back.
He presses a notecard into James’ hand, squeezing gently. “Here. It’s my number. Talk to me sometime, yeah?”
“Sure.” James isn’t sure he could get more words out if he tried. Sure, angelic, handsome stranger.
Reggie leaves.
James practically runs back to the office, high on something suspiciously like ecstasy.
Remus calls him once James is in the elevator. James doesn’t even say hello when he picks up.
“I’m coming. For fuck’s sake, Remus—”
“We need you, James. Now.”
“What is it? Has Sirius really set something on fire?”
“No.” Remus’ voice is low. His throat his scratchy, thick with feeling. It sends James’ blood to ice.
“He struck again, James. He’s still in England.”
James presses the button for their floor. He wants to scream.
His chest tightens, his head clouding with thoughts of wrong, wrong, wrong.