Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t have time for friends, socialising or relationships further than one night stands, hell she barely has time for them. So she most certainly does not have time for the flirty amnesiac who just moved in across the hall (no matter how attractive he is).
She did show him the movie, and another, and another, until pretty soon it was a regular occurrence. Although she was uncomfortable with it at first, she’d soon gotten used to him barging into her apartment with rum,
(“Do you drink anything else?”
“Everyone has a favourite beverage; besides, it never hurts.”
“Tell that to your liver.”
“Do you want the free alcohol or not, Swan?”)
And a new movie he wanted to watch. Or, she’d call him during the day, demanding he bring food as she’d discovered another film in her cupboards somewhere. One day, however, she was a little too eager:
“Jones!” she ratted on the door. “Open up! I’ve got a movie here that you’ll probably like.”
The door swung open and he stood there, sweatpants riding low on his hips (damn), blue shirt (unbuttoned of course) that matched his eyes, dark hair ruffled like he’d just rolled out of bed (‘Bitch, I swear to god, stop picturing it’) and an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“Well then, by all means, come in. Did you bring refreshments?” he stepped aside.
She blushed slightly, “No, I guess I figured we’d use your rum.”
Damn that grin, “I told you, love, I’ll make a rum-lover out of you yet.”
It All Starts With a Dance 