trust
The crisp autumn air hot against your face as the white platform sneakers you wore made a small scuffing sound against the cobblestone – that was a sound you loved. It was a sound that made you feel alive and content and it was one of the many reasons you called New York home. Your Saturday morning checklist seemed never ending, it was the same as every other day, minus your flower duties – crawl out of bed, well more like drag yourself out of bed, shower, clothes, move on with your life and don’t think about Bucky. The last part has been your one goal for the last four days, forget about him. You weren’t sure why he had asked you out to begin with if he was just going to make up some stupid lie about being a mafia druglord just so he didn’t have to see you again. You weren’t stupid, you knew what guys thought of you, especially once they heard you stutter. He’d be just another down the line of men who’d disappointed you, or so you thought. You got dressed quickly after spending an ungodly amount of time in the shower, exfoliating every part of your body, shaving, and giving yourself a head massage while you lathered your hair with shampoo. It wasn’t as good as when your hairdresser did it, but it was enough to do the trick. You truthfully had no plans for your Saturday, all you wanted to do was get coffee from your favorite place The Blue Oyster and get fresh flowers from the farmer’s market. It was a simple enough plan, yet, as you thought back to how you stood in front of the mirror dressed in boyfriend jeans and a ramones t-shirt, all you could think of was him and why you weren’t good enough – why you never were. Before Bucky had come into your flower shop, you had been content with being the girl that no man would ever be interested in or stay long enough to get to know, but he had made you feel something and now all that remained was numbness. You quickly pushed the notion of him out of your head as you grabbed your purse and headed out the door of your brownstone. That’s how you had wound up here; walking down the sidewalk to your favorite coffee truck with your new least favorite person leaned up against the side.
“Hiyah, doll. Thought I’d find you here.”
He spoke in his brooklyn accent and it made you sick to your stomach. Was he trying to ruin your life? You made a point to ignore him as you waited in line.
“Are you going to look at me, sweetheart?”
He questioned you and you rolled your eyes, forcing them to stay strictly focused on the back of a blonde woman’s head that stood in front of you.
“I guess that’s a no. I’ll wait for you at the picnic tables.”
He muttered and you broke your silence, demanding that enough was enough.
“Why are you here, James?”
He smiled at the fact that you were still the only person who called him James besides his mother.
“I needed to see you, doll.”
You tightened your jaw, grinding your teeth against each other in an attempt to hold the scream within your throat before rolling your eyes and turning back around. It was your turn at the counter, after all.
“Hey, sweetheart. The usual?”
Your buddy Jorge, who happened to be a barista, asked and you nodded in response giving him a small smile. It took only a few short moments for him to hand you the white chocolate mocha that you ordered every single morning on your way into work.
“Thanks, Jorge.”
You replied with a kind small, resembling your thankfulness.
“Drink up, it’ll be the last cup you order. The owner sold the cart this morning and I’m not sure what the new owner will do with it? We’re closing shop tomorrow.”
He informed you sadly and your eyes went wide. You knew it was only a coffee shop but it made you want to cry that one of the things that made you feel grounded each day, that made you feel at home, was going to be ripped away from you without warning. You hated change, especially unwelcomed change.
“Who the hell would do that?!”
You exclaimed loudly.
“I would.”
Bucky chimed in and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. You quickly turned toward Bucky and dragged him to the picnic tables, not wanting to give Jorge a show and disrupt his line of customers.
“What are you trying to do, huh?! Ruin my life?!”
You exclaimed in question of his antics.
“No, doll. I bought it for you.”
He said, plastering a smile on his face. He was smug and you hated it, though you did appreciate the sentiment. No man had bought you anything before, let alone your favorite coffee truck.
“Why would you buy it for me, huh? You lied to me because you don’t like me and that’s fine, that I can handle. But, t-these mixed signals – I can’t deal with it, Bucky.”
You responded hastily.
“Is that what you think of me?”
He questioned, his brows furrowing as his face fell. You watched the interactions, confused about what exactly this could mean. Could he have been telling the truth that night?
“Well, James, what would you think if you were in my shoes?”
You questioned.
“Touche.”
He replied, smiling ear to ear again.
“Tell you what, doll, if you can dare to trust me for just a moment, I’ll take you to my offices, show you around, explain to you what I do and how I do it. But, I need you to give me a chance here.”
His proposition was interesting, you could admit that. You could admit that you had wanted to believe every word he said and maybe you would have if you had been dealt different cards.
“Trust you? I don’t even know you!”
You exclaimed in response.
“That’s the tricky twist, isn’t it?”
He replied, blush rising to his cheeks in anticipation of what your answer would be. Would you take his hand or tell him to go fuck himself? After an awkward amount of silence, Bucky turned ready to walk away embarrassed that you didn’t want him after all, but you stopped him, pulling on his wrist.
“One chance – you fuck it up, you leave me alone. Capeesh?”
You grunted out, though a glimmer of hope sat in your eyes.
“Scouts honor.”
He replied, placing his hand over his heart and reaching out his hand, making it yours for the taking.