THE LEFTOVERS

72. The Answer

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling as James' hands trailed up between your legs, fingertips ghosting over your skin. The heat between you was palpable, his breath warm against your lips. The anticipation, the tension—it was electric. His fingers traced slow, teasing circles, testing, tempting. You sucked in a breath, your body already responding, hips tilting slightly toward his touch. James smirked, sensing your need, and just as he was about to slip his fingers beneath the fabric, your phone buzzed loudly in your pocket.

James groaned in frustration, his forehead dropping onto yours with an exasperated sigh. "You've got to be kidding me." His voice was low, husky, still heavy with everything he wanted to do to you.

"We can never get a minute alone, can we?" James huffed.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, shaking your head as you reached behind you, trying to fish the phone out of your back pocket. At this point, it was almost comedic how often the two of you got caught up in moments like these, only to be interrupted. Some cruel joke from the universe, playing with your patience. Your fingers fumbled for a second before finally freeing the device, and when you saw the caller ID, your breath hitched.

Your eyes snapped up to James, wide in shock.

"It's the specialist job at the library," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Your heart hammered against your ribs, anticipation and anxiety warring inside you.

James' brows lifted, a grin already curling at his lips. His blue eyes gleamed with excitement. "That's great. Pick up." He nudged your hand encouragingly, his fingers warm against your wrist.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, tangible and heavy. This job—it was your dream job. The kind of opportunity that felt like a make-or-break moment, even though logically, you knew it wasn't. People applied to hundreds of jobs before landing the right one. Some never even got the chance. But you wanted this. Badly.

Your stomach twisted as doubt crept in, insidious and unwelcome. "What if I don't get it?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

James caught it anyway. His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression softened, his touch gentle but firm. "Hey," he murmured, voice steady, reassuring. "You'll never know if you don't take the call."

You swallowed, nodding.

"And no matter what happens, I'm here," he added, his thumb brushing over your cheek, grounding you in his quiet confidence.

That was all you needed.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the call, pressing the phone to your ear. You placed a hand on James' chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and gently pushed him back as you stepped into the middle of the room. You needed space to think, to breathe. He didn't argue, just watched you with that unwavering confidence, as if he already knew you'd succeed.

"Hello?" You forced a smile, willing your voice to sound poised, professional.