𝓐𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼𝓞𝓷𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓜𝓮𝓷𝓭

a/n: ok. shit's getting real... and i'm not bullshitting you when i say the next chapter is right around the corner. I FUCKING SWEAR THAT SHIT.

as always, massive thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits + listening to every time i have anxiety over my writings <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person - forever + ever. <3 additionally, a BIG OL thank u to @builtbybrokenbells. you are a queen whose throne is one to be bowed at. always. you'll never understand just how much your help + friendship means to me... in this silly story, other stories, and in LIFE. ily more, canadian me <3 an ode to my wonderful pal @gretavangroupie for being my push to keep writing always, helping me in the final revisions and edits when i release my cry for help. you are a true friend + i hope you know how much i appreciate u <3 a shout out to my homie @gretavanmoon for being my daily partner in flipping shit over anything + everything jake kiszka. you're a fuckin' real one, babe. <3 and, finally, an ever-present thanks to my girl @alwaysonthemend. Thank you, my love, for always being just around the corner when i need you. you're a personal favorite of mine + you know this <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

"The covetous person lives as if the world were made altogether for him, and not he for the world." Robert South

When I opened my eyes, I turned to look at her again. 

And I found a woman who was far from who I’d left when I’d closed my eyes. No more tears. Nothing even close, actually. No, her eyes were completely dry and she didn’t look anywhere near sad. 

Thank fuck. That was all she’d wanted. . . Just the gender. That was all it had been. 

Y/n wouldn’t mind. Surely. Right? 

Fuck. I didn’t know. But it was too late now. 

“Now. . . That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Maya said, breaking into the silence that accompanied my still-harsh breathing. 

I simply blinked at her. The fuck it wasn’t. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. “No, not too bad,” I replied, a tight smile stretched across my closed lips. 

After a few moments of rather uncomfortable silence, she was speaking again. “Would it be okay if I stayed the night tonight?”

God. Why did her question make me want to scream? Shouldn’t one want their super hot girlfriend to stay the night? 

What in the fuck was wrong with me? 

I was a seriously terrible boyfriend. . . No two ways about it. 

How in the fuck was I supposed to let her down gently? I really didn’t want her around when I finally got to see y/n again. . . 

Not that anything would happen between us — considering the guilt over Maya that was eating me alive. . . But the idea of having Maya right there when I laid eyes on y/n again. . . Made me want to fuckin’ hurl.

Think, Jake. . . Think. . . I looked away from her (like the fucking coward I was) to process my thoughts.

After a minute, I had an idea that wouldn’t be too harsh, so I decided to just fucking run with it. “I really think it would be best for us to have a couple of nights apart,” I tried, trailing off and finally looking up at her. 

The way her face immediately drooped — from hopeful to heartbroken — it cut me. Fuck. 

Was I being selfish? I damn well felt like it. But I couldn’t help what I wanted. 

Luckily, the words that came out of her mouth next pissed me off bad enough that I was able to stand my ground. Firmly. 

Her dark eyes dug deep into my bones before she began. “Why is that, Jake? Is this about y/n and the mess–?”

“No!” I started, rather loudly, at that. Dammit! Too quick. Too sharp. Pick up the pieces, Jake. . . “Fuck, no. Sorry. I’m—I’m just tired as hell from the flights and I just need some time in my own bed. My body hurts from the hours of travel and shit. I don’t know,” I shook my head, at a loss for what else to say. None of it was a lie, really. . . Just wasn’t the full truth. 

Her features were still crestfallen, but she nodded in what seemed to be genuine understanding. How she’d switched gears so damn fast, I didn’t know. But I didn’t question it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. . ,” she said with one final nod of her head. Her eyes connected with mine over the armrest of her car, made of pristine tanned leather, between our seats. “I’m sorry. . .”

And the crushing guilt again. Why was she apologizing for simply wanting to be with me? And why in the goddamned world had I let myself get so annoyed with her wanting to simply be a part of my life? 

“Don’t be sorry,” I rushed out, questioning my idea to be away from her as soon as the words ‘I’m sorry’  had left her mouth. I needed to handle her with care and I wasn’t. What the fuck was wrong with me? The next words slipped out of my mouth, encouraging the idea I’d come up with, without a single thought for my supportive and loving girlfriend. “I can’t miss you if I’m with you, you know?”

Selfish. I was selfish. 

“Why do you need to miss me?” The frown on her face tore my heart the fuck up. Why I couldn’t just say the right thing, I didn’t know. It felt like everything that came out of my mouth was misconstrued and twisted. I wasn’t trying to make her feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. Being this tired, I didn’t think I could communicate anything effectively. “Wouldn’t it be better to just be with me instead?”

“It’s always better to be with you. . .But I also just want you to have some time to yourself, too, My,” I continued. “It’ll be nice to have a night to yourself before you have to deal with your mom and sister all day tomorrow.”

“Half sister, Jake. . . Only half,” she playfully smacked my arm, making me look at her with a raised brow. She was suddenly ‘okay’ enough to play around? “And praise god for that. . .”

“Yes. . .,” I chuckled at her antics, raising my brows. “Only half. She’s a lot for you to deal with, huh?”

“Yeah. And that’s putting it lightly,” she said, exasperated just at the thought of it. “You’re still thinking you can’t come to my mom’s with me?”

“I really need to be with Josh on Christmas day. Sam is going home with Danny,” I said, even though I’d explained this to her plenty of times before – when she’d asked me the same thing about going to her mom’s. “ Josh won’t have anyone and. . . I just. . . miss my brother. Twins can’t be apart for too long. . . I’ve tested it and it sucks if I don’t get to see him when my brain and heart are telling me I need to.”

“I get it. . .,” She conceded, giving a solemn nod. I knew she didn’t ‘get it’. But, I appreciated the way she was trying to understand. Hoping that was the end of this torturous conversation, I almost cringed when she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m sorry for everything that got dumped on you. . . . all of the shit from last night. . . I should’ve told you sooner and I’m sorry my dad had to be the one to do it.”

Yeah, I agree, I couldn’t help but internally respond. I’m sorry you handled it that way, too.

On the outside, though, I simply shook my head with knitted brows. “It’s okay, My, reall–.”

“No, Jake,” she shook her head to disagree, speaking to me as if she were a mother correcting her child. Real damn similar to how her father had spoken to me. “It’s not. I should have told you and I’m sorry I wasn’t better about that. Just hard to talk about, I guess. . .”

“Maya,” I started, gathering my thoughts so I could respond properly instead of with frustration. She had gotten enough of that tonight, and I didn’t want to keep giving her shit that she didn’t deserve. “It’s okay, babe. I’m sorry for my short response. Just a lot going on at once when I found out. I’m sorry I got quiet for the rest of the night,” I said, taking the opportunity to apologize for any behavior of mine last night. Just wanted to say sorry however I could – without telling her anything. “Just going through a lot of emotions lately and that’s not your fault. That’s on me.”

“It’s okay, Jakey,” Maya pushed a smile onto her face, but the tiredness from the past couple of days was starting to weigh very heavily on me. So much so that I had a seriously hard time telling if the smile was genuine or not. To make matters worse, I couldn’t even find the energy to care, let alone get to the bottom of it. 

All I knew was she had been acting strange. And, I couldn’t figure out if it was because I was tired or if she was in a tough place mentally. . . To be fair, the past several hours had definitely been emotionally taxing for her. Any woman with a heart like Maya’s would be struggling after all of that came to light.

Fuck, Jake. Just get inside, I counseled myself, watching Maya’s lips move as she continued on about something I couldn’t find the energy to listen to. Whatever this is with her, surely it can wait until the morning. 

Yes. Seriously. Waiting until morning sounded best. Ideal. I was too irritable at the moment, and her eyes were still so sad. . . It was hard to watch her like this. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen her express so much emotion. And normally, I would be eager to ease her mind, but right now I just wanted—no, needed–to see y/n. 

After all of the shit I’d done to her – fuck. Leaving her here, the texts, the pictures, leaving the phone call like an asshole, not speaking to her all day because I was in my damn head. . . Fucking selfish. I was such an asshole. And to do that to the woman carrying my child? Made me feel pretty goddamn worthless.

Then, there was my girlfriend. My perfect, stunning, beautiful girlfriend who was going through something. And, I couldn’t even find it in me to care. After everything, all of the shit she’d helped me with during and after the summer. . . Selfish, Jake. 

The guilt was eating me alive, but I still couldn’t seem to give her any more than I already was. Not at the moment, at least. With a quick eye at the stereo screen, I noticed the time. Past midnight. It was past fuckin’ midnight after a day of travel. And we were still sitting here. Outside of the complex. In her car. 

What more did she want? She’d spent the entire past two days with me, save for an hour and a half of me giving into overwhelming desires. Then, she’d forced me to tell her things about Lav, about our baby—not hers. I was just tired from all of it. 

More than anything, though, I was not sure if it would ever be enough for her. . . Not after witnessing the way her dad treated her. Like a goddamn princess. I couldn’t do that shit for Maya. Couldn’t treat her like a princess. In a few short months, I was going to have my own girl to treat that way. My baby girl. And I’d be damned if I gave that type of energy to my girlfriend before my daughter. 

Still, I sat in the car, not daring to move as her eyes threatened more tears. God, I just couldn’t take it. 

“You know, it’s just. . .,” she trailed off, another sniffle, another stab straight to my chest. “I gave up on the idea of ever having kids, even though I wanted them so badly. A shame, I think, that so many people can have as many as they want and treat them terribly, when I. . .,” she let out a shrouded sigh, likely trying to hide the quiver in her tone. “I would give anything to just have–.”

“My,” I tried, knowing I should reach over and touch her, even if it were just a reassuring hand on her knee, but I couldn’t. Didn’t want to touch her. So. Damn. Tired. My brain hurt, struggling to keep up with everything that had been thrown my damn way. 

“I’m happy for you, Jake. Really. So happy.” And there it was again, her voice had cleared and confidence had come back like she’d never cried at all. Another wave of guilt took over, making me realize just how hard she was trying to keep it together, so I wouldn’t feel bad. She was too good for me—especially this version of me. “I guess I never pictured it like this. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for me lately.” 

“Why ‘lately’?” I bit the tip of my tongue, holding back the sigh that was begging to escape. God, Jake, just listen to her. Let her talk. 

“Being so. . . Uninvolved. It’s difficult. Knowing that I’m going to be a mom–finally–but not actually getting to be a part of it. . .,” Another sniffle shuttered between us to show just how cut up she was about it, effectively tearing my heart straight from my chest. “And y/n is great. Seriously. Love her. . . but, I don’t feel like she wants me involved. I know it’s not you keeping this all from me, Jakey.” 

There was a fire lighting up in my chest for the briefest of moments at the idea that she was somehow insulting y/n. . . Why would she be insulting y/n? I knew way fuckin’ better than to think y/n would ever treat anyone badly.

Fuck, I felt defensive and I was not liking the way her name was about to fall off of Maya’s lips again – I saw it forming. So, I interrupted it. “She wouldn’t ever—.”

“It’s okay, Jake.” She cut me off again, wanting to make sure I knew she wasn’t attacking anyone, probably. But if she wasn’t, why had it felt that way? I knew she wasn’t, and she would never, but everything felt so different right now, so wrong. I was wrong for throwing her in the middle of this, and perhaps I was even more of an asshole for keeping her out of it. 

And I knew her dad would have said the same damn thing to me that I was telling myself. He’d put me down if he got the chance. Like he already fucking had. . . The man had known me for less than a day before he was tearing into my ass. All that had told me was how I’d apparently made a very bad first impression. Made me feel like utter shit that I hadn’t done better for Maya and her family. . . Too absorbed in my own musings. . .

It was really starting to feel like nothing I did was right, for anyone. Every time I turned my head, y/n was upset about something. And when she wasn’t, Maya was, now. I couldn’t fucking win. At least I’d learned y/n’s ups and downs. . . Maya had hardly shown me anything but ‘ups’, so I was still learning her ‘downs’. . . 

But. . . Was it even worth it? Was it worth learning another woman like that with the immaculate woman upstairs waiting on me. . .?

Fucking shit. I was not doing well. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep. 

“I’ve always wanted kids, and I know I’d be–I will be a great mom. It’s only. . .having no say in this situation has definitely made it more difficult, but I am excited too, Jake,” she leaned over to hold my limp hand in hers. “This is my only chance, so I’m sorry if I’ve been too. . . Pushy. I just—I don’t want to miss out on this experience, even if it’s not how I thought it would go or how I want it to go.” 

I had to close my eyes for a moment, taking in a long breath through my nose to calm my nerves. It wasn’t like that, and she knew that. I wasn’t trying to make her feel bad, or unimportant, or anything like that. And neither was y/n. Not in the slightest, actually. I wanted Maya around – wanted her involved. But, all of this stuff, everything about Lavender was just so. . .  Sacred. To me, to y/n, to us. 

Sometimes, it felt like that was the only part of us that was still right – that was never wrong. Lavender was like this safe, hallowed ground. . .

But I didn’t want to make Maya feel like shit in a situation she didn’t ask for. . . didn’t want to leave her out of things. It was just so damn difficult, all of the time. 

I felt so frustrated and guilty over so much shit. And now – it was a hundred times worse. Every time I looked at her after last night, guilt was the resounding emotion. And remembering what her dad had said. . . 

The insane reality was none of it mattered to me at the moment when I knew I was so close to. . . God. Fuck. 

And that made it a fucked up mess. I didn’t know what to do at the moment, and I didn’t want to try to know. Not right now, anyway. 

Just needed to get inside.

But, with a twist in my gut, I realized that even the thought of seeing y/n wasn’t even comforting me anymore. The thought was only adding more complicated feelings to the stack of guilt. And that made me want to crawl in a fuckin’ hole. 

I just wanted to go to bed, to forget about every part of this damned trip and especially this conversation. 

It wasn’t y/n’s fault. Not at all. It was all on me. I didn’t like the idea of going in there to face y/n, knowing I let the gender slip, knowing she would know something was wrong. It just wasn’t something I wanted to face right now. 

None of this fell into place with how I’d originally wanted to greet her after this trip. And I really hoped y/n wouldn’t be mad if she found out how I’d told Maya the gender. Things had just started to feel okay again. And I’d be damned before I let it go back to whatever the fuck it had been before November.

“I love you, My. Seriously. I hope you know this,” I said, forcing another smile. I just couldn’t talk about this anymore. I needed this night to be over. I felt sick with stress, and I just wanted to be alone. “I want you to be a part of this. I will make sure you’re a part of this. Okay?” 

“I love you, Jake.” And finally, I took some goddamn initiative and leaned across the console, giving her a quick peck on the lips to cheer her up. . . . also wanted to get her to stop talking. “Thank you for understanding my crazy head. I don’t want you to think that I’m upset or angry. . . Just a bit sad. I feel better, now, though . . . Thank you for letting me be a part of this at all. It just means so much to me.” 

This was becoming too much. . . Just needed to get out, to go upstairs and go to bed before I let her keep me in this car any longer. Her words were all twisting around each other in my head. Her eyes, so sad, I just felt so horrible. But her back and forth was confusing as shit. 

I just needed to be alone, and the longer I sat with her, the worse I felt. I needed to leave before I gave in and told her to come upstairs with me. I really didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to tell her to come upstairs. 

I just couldn’t take it anymore. 

I couldn’t spend another night with her. Not yet. Figuring out whatever the hell was going on in my head was priority number one. And right now, everything I felt would likely be fixed with a good sleep. In the morning, I would feel better. I wouldn’t be so. . . Apathetic, to whatever she was feeling. We could talk it out after the holidays, and we would be fine. At least I hoped so. 

I really needed us to be fine. At the end of it all, I couldn’t lose Maya. And I wouldn’t let whatever this was, whatever I was feeling, get in the way of being with her. I felt like shit that I’d spent my entire weekend away with her thinking of y/n. I used a lot of time that should’ve been dedicated to Maya, with y/n — whether it be on the phone or in my head. 

I’d ignored Maya — my girlfriend — and turned her into an idea more than an actual person I was supposed to be paying attention to. 

A girlfriend, who only deserved the best of me. . . Not leftovers from what I was giving to someone who’d torn me up so badly. Hell, y/n had hurt me so badly that I’d led myself back to Maya. Maya had picked up every piece. 

What. A. Mess.

My eyes were heavy as I stepped out of the car, and even if I was completely wiped, I spent an ample amount of time holding and hugging this dream of a woman who I got the privilege to call my girlfriend. 

After a while of standing beside her car, I felt as though I might’ve fallen asleep standing up. So, with a bit of hesitance due to the guilt still swimming in waves through my chest, I pulled away before holding her lovely face in my hands. Those deep pools of dark chocolate. Irises so dark, I could hardly ever see her pupils. . . Beautiful eyes. . . But, as I looked into them, I couldn’t help but wish they were someone else’s. . . The fuck was wrong with me?! I gave her a kiss, intent on feeling that spark with her. . . 

And, thankfully, it came when my lips touched hers. I sucked her bottom lip between both of mine, savored the taste of her. . . She always tasted like a mix of Wintergreen gum and cherries – a staple taste in her favorite brand of lipstick. . . Didn’t know lipsticks could taste good until Maya. Knew about chapstick and shit. . . but not lipstick. 

Maya was funny like that, though. Teaching me all about shit I’d never known before her. I really loved all of the things she taught me. . . She forced me into a version of myself I’d yet to explore before her. A man who was confident, but curious. All of the time. . .

As she drove away, I waved goodbye slowly and sleepily. The best smile I could muster was a tight one, close-lipped and slightly forced. I stood there a few moments after, watching to make sure she was safe while pulling out of the parking lot. 

But, while I did this, my duffel slung over my shoulder, I momentarily felt myself falling asleep. I had never felt so exhausted in my entire life. My mind and heart, tired. Conflicted in ways I fucking hated. Shouldn’t have even been conflicted. 

By the time I reached the front door, I couldn’t even think anymore. I couldn’t give either woman any more of me tonight – because I didn’t have any more to give. 

In the morning, it would all be okay. I knew it would be. It had to be.

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

The keys jingling in the door wouldn’t be heard by a normal person. 

But you were nowhere near normal at the moment. Lav’s kicks were still lighting up your palm and you knew Jake was supposed to be home soon. It had to be him at the front door. And while you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by being too excited after he’d openly ignored you for a day, you couldn’t help but get excited over him finally being home. 

The fact that it coincided with Lavender’s first movements you were able to feel – it made the largest smile you’d emitted in a long time brighten your features. It was simply too perfectly timed for you to slow down from opening your bedroom door as eagerly as you did. 

And when you saw him. God. 

He looked so damn good. 

You’d missed the fuck out of him, and to have him back home had you feeling whole. Like everything was clicking back into place after two days where things had felt slightly off while he’d been away. 

Granted, for the first few seconds of admiring him, it was his back facing you. 

But, still, you had to admire the way his long brunette waves fell over his shoulders and graced his upper back. His peacoat, hanging just right at his hips. . . And, while the back of him was incredible, yes, when he turned around. . . your mind blanked. 

So handsome. The most handsome. . . He was everything to you in that moment. Having him standing there in front of you felt like a pipe dream, but it was actually happening and you couldn’t believe he was back. . . The love you felt for him was inexplicably strong and you were coming to realize this more and more by the damned day. 

The emotion you felt at simply having him home again was unlike any you’d ever felt before Jake Kiszka. 

He just brought this fire out in you. Your heart, only ever beating this feverishly for him. His cheeks, red from the bitter cold outside. A whopping sixteen degrees and lower, all day long. Freezing temperatures to welcome him back to Brooklyn. 

The smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. . . And you noticed his eyebrows were scrunched, like he was deliberating something. . . Whatever it was, you were sure you could brighten his night with your news. This was the most idyllic way to welcome him back. . . His mood was bound to improve once you told him.

“Jake,” you breathed, the air around you buzzing with the cloud you were floating on. The elation over feeling her, rushing through your veins. “I have the best news. . . I just felt–.”

But, before you could finish, he was holding up a hand with a shake of his head. With this action, you were taken aback. Your face fell slowly, your own brows furrowing to sort of mirror this odd expression he was giving you. He wasn’t really frowning, but he definitely wasn’t smiling. His mouth was set in this straight line, unamused. . . 

Had you made him angry? Was there a reason he’d been ignoring you? One that you hadn’t caught on to?

This expression he was donning was one you’d seen before – when he’d be deep in thought after a serious conversation. 

Maybe he and Maya just talked about something serious. . . But. . . what about? Her? Him? Them? You? He had cut you off rather abruptly the night before. . . Had he realized it was a mistake he’d made? The shit in the shower, your bedroom, over the phone. . .? Had he told her about what had happened between you two? Or worse, had she found what was on his phone? 

You really honed in on the sight of his eyes. They were sunken and dull; held this incredibly vast emotion that you were struggling to pick up on in your state of delirium. The dark bags under his eyes told you that, at the very least, he was tired. 

But still, there was more. . . 

More that you were not too sure you wanted to try to figure out with the way he looked sort of corrective and dismissive of you. 

It all left a sour taste in your mouth. You’d put yourself out there for him: sent your first titty pic ever, called him to talk him through an orgasm, worked yourself up to an orgasm (with his help) in a public restroom (granted, it had been a single stall – but still). . . . The whole nine yards, only to be ghosted over the phone and now fully rejected in person. 

“I’m just not feeling the best and I need to go to sleep,” he said, voice raspy as ever. But his tone – it was off. He was off. What in the fuck had happened over the past twenty four hours? It was like the bathroom incident had never occurred. . . 

Understandably, you were very hurt. Your ego and heart, holding hands and equally bruised. But you did the best you could to play it off. Didn’t want to put any more on his shoulders. So, you didn’t bother him with it. Didn’t tell him. Even as you stood there, right across from him. Your hand, still on your tummy as Lavender was kicking away in your womb, waiting for her daddy to notice her. 

But her daddy couldn’t handle it tonight. And you weren’t about to push him any further over the brink of his very apparent weariness over whatever the hell it was. At this point, any person worth their salt would have been able to put two and two together. . . It was obvious to any one that it was you he was exasperated with. . . All of the signs pointed to it. 

So, you nodded your head with finality and did your best to smile as genuinely as you could. . . Worked to make the happy emotion seem real. . . Who knew how well it was turning out. All you knew was you didn’t want him tainting any more of this precious moment. You didn’t want this magical moment to be forever marred by the emotion he was carrying home with him from South Carolina. 

If only he’d stayed home. God. Fuck it all. Truly. 

“No worries,” you squeaked, clearing your throat to deepen your voice to sound more normal. “I know you’re definitely tired. Obviously. I’ll let you go to bed.” 

If you kept going, you would continue to ramble. So instead, you clamped your mouth shut and didn’t say a word as a grin stretched tight across your lips. Had to let him go to sleep. . . You could’ve screamed, though. You’d really fucking missed him. Didn’t want him to leave to go to bed when he’d just gotten home. . . But he wanted space from you. 

Since you were already up, you went ahead and moved to escape to the kitchen. You were thirsty and needed to fill one of your Stanleys – just not the one he’d purchased for you. 

The next words that left his lips shocked you, realizing he wasn’t ignoring you completely. It stopped you — right before you made it to the doorway of the kitchen. Hand still on your tummy to feel the flutters, but your ears, irresistibly in tune with Jake. 

“Hey,” he called after you, making you turn to face him with unmasked hope. Yet, he was already at his door, with it half opened behind him. That duffel bag strap, showcasing the strong shoulders you longed to wrap your arms around. “Merry Christmas.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’d closed the damned door, locking him and his shitty mood away in his bedroom. 

Really, you tried to be understanding. But you couldn’t help the wave of rejection that washed over you, making you want to hide away in your own room. At such a happy moment, too. 

Blinking away the tears brimming your eyelids (damn baby hormones), you tried your very best to just enjoy the moment, the milestone, the very thing you’d been waiting to feel for so long. You stood in place, hand on your tummy in the same spot Lav’s little feet were thrumming against you, even more so now. You wondered why she was so enthusiastic, what had woken her up and why she was so intent on letting you know she was there, too. Letting your palm rub slow, tedious circles on the bump that held your energetic, enthusiastic baby, your eyes stayed trained on Jake’s closed door. 

Could she have been kicking because of him? Did the sound of his voice cheer her up the same way it did for you? Could she recognize her daddy, even through your tummy? 

Feeling a tear escape your eye, you began filling your Stanley cup with ice, and most definitely not the one Jake had so graciously bought for you. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling, the fact that Lavender was healthy and happy, but it just felt like something was missing. The apartment felt emptier, lonelier now that Jake had come inside and closed the door on you. On you both. 

He was missing the biggest milestone yet. Willingly ignoring you, not giving you a chance to include him. 

You couldn’t help but feel slightly upset that he was so quick to walk away. . . Yes, walk away on you, sure. . . He had no reason to sit in the kitchen and talk to you, especially not after spending time with Maya and her dad. (You felt stupid, thinking he would be excited to see you after just leaving his perfect girlfriend. That was understandable, even if it hurt.)

But it wasn’t just you. Not anymore, anyway. 

You were hurt on behalf of the tiny one in your tummy.

The ice cold sip you took from your now-filled cup distracted you from the hurt for a moment, just because it was so damn refreshing. Pregnancy really took it out of a person. You wanted more of everything. . . Food, water, Jake. . . 

You wanted to knock on his door, to tell him to fuck off for missing this, but you didn’t. It wasn’t his fault, even if you were pissed at him. For the texts, for the phone call, for the ignoring, for the rejecting, and now for this. . .

Even if you were sad he was missing it, you should have just said something sooner, before he went to his room. Maybe if you had just gone for it, he would have stayed. You wanted that for her—not for you. Always for her, because she was most important. 

Yet, selfish as it sounded, you did want him to stay for you. And maybe that was why it hurt so damn bad. . . You were doing this to yourself, in the end.

Merry fucking Christmas to you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 25, 2022  

The sun shone in beautifully to escort the bright, cheerful winter day into its rightful place. 

Christmas. You were so damn ready for the joy the day never failed to bring with it. Last night had been a fucking drag and you didn’t want to spend an unnecessary amount of lamenting over it. It sounded most attractive to simply avoid the apartment at all costs. . . So, you knew getting ready for your grandparents’ Christmas was bound to take no time. 

You were past ready to get to their house and sink into their unwavering love. And, if you were being completely honest, you were also past ready to involve someone else in the unexplainable joy of Lavender’s kicks. She wasn’t doing it again (yet) this  morning, but you were seriously hoping that she’d do it again. . . Surely she would. But. . . you were trying not to overthink it. 

Before leaving your room to feed Stevie, you’d tentatively glanced in the direction of Jake’s room. You didn’t want to accidentally bump into him. Because, try as you might, your mind was stuck on a loop of the look he’d given you last night. How he’d dismissed you so easily. You saw it over and over. It was embarrassing as hell and you weren’t anxious to see him again after that. 

You were beginning to lose hope that he’d actually meant the shit he’d said before leaving for his little trip and on his trip. . . It was very possible he’d lost interest. And that broke your heart more than you cared to admit. You’d ghosted people before — acted short towards them to try and get rid of them. That was what it seemed like he was doing with you. Or, at least something similar. 

It was safe to assume he was appreciative of your body and what you were doing for his child. But, what you feared was that he didn’t think you were worth risking anything with Maya. . . 

So, it had been your lucky day when you peered curiously to his door and found it to be closed. And no other room was in use by him, from what you could tell. 

It was stupid that your heart fell at his lack of presence. 

Fuck your foolish heart. 

Majority of the time, it couldn’t be trusted when it came to him. But, you were coming not to care. You felt how you felt and there was nothing you could do about it. And you had more important things — like a literal baby — to worry about than controlling the natural way you felt for him. It was what it was.  

You just couldn’t have him. And that was that.

So, you went about your morning like normal. But, you did so quickly. You wanted to take advantage of the time he was still sleeping with his door shut. 

After feeding Stevie, a quick shower was necessary to wash your hair and do a quick shave. You hadn’t done either in the bath last night and you were enjoying still being able to shave. The inevitable was coming in a few months where it would be impossible to do so. No more reaching your legs or anything else below the waist once the belly got to a certain size. 

Thankfully, the no-no area wax was still holding up from the other night, so the shaving went fairly quickly after the hair rinse. You’d done the blow drying of your hair in the bathroom, not wanting to wake Jake from his sleep. 

As you’d dried your hair, you’d had time for your irritation to rev up at the idea of walking out and perhaps seeing Jake. Thinking about the idea that he could be ignoring you — or trying to avoid you — made you want to throw your blow dryer into the mirror. After what he’d done to lead you on in the days prior. God. If he was trying to get rid of you after pulling all of that shit, it really did make you want to scream. But you wouldn’t. 

He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Whatever floated his fucking boat.

 In fact, by the time you were wrapping the cord around the dryer, you’d decided you were glad he was ignoring you. Seriously. You didn’t need to see him and get all sad on Christmas Day. 

Once you were safely back in your room, with your still-sleeping roommate in his room, you put him out of mind. 

You focused on getting dressed and to your grandparents’. And once you were all dressed,  you took a minute to admire your outfit. It was really cute. Comfy. 

The mirror saw you looking at  your brand new lounge set from the TikTok shop. The prettiest cream color. Not see-through in the slightest (you’d been worried it would be flimsy material —TikTok shop and all that). You had to admit, TikTok shop wasn’t totally unreliable. . . At least when it came to winter lounge sets. 

Your bump looked adorable in the smooth, cashmere outfit and your ass looked incredible. In fact, you looked so damn cute — so good — that you weren’t even thinking about Jake. Or his attitude towards you only hours ago. 

With the lightest and easiest makeup on, you loaded up your oversized tote bag with your family’s presents. And once they were all packed up, you were ready to go. Had to get there to help Elsie get the food ready.

But, with a forlorn gaze, you eyed the two smaller flat presents, still sitting in the corner of your room. Wrapped in the same shiny red paper as the rest. You couldn’t help but feel slightly saddened at the fact that you weren’t sure you’d ever find the time to give them to him. . . Couldn’t be sure of jackshit when it came to him. 

At least not this morning. 

Nope. Didn’t matter.

You gave one final and reassuring swoop along Stevie’s back and promised her you’d be back that evening to feed her. Then, after swiftly grabbing your overnight bag, you were slipping on your long, black peacoat and aviators. You were ready to escape the suffocating feeling that encompassed your entire apartment. 

Making it down the exterior stairs of the building proved to be more of a feat with the additional bag, full of presents, on your shoulder and the overnight bag in your opposite hand. Gravity was something to become acquainted with again, the bigger you got. And additional baggage obviously didn’t help that. But, by the grace of god, you made it to the bottom step and were well on your way to your car within a few minutes. 

But, just as you were closing the back door, bags safely secured in the backseat, you heard a very familiar voice call out your name. 

The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy upon hearing him. 

And try as you might have wanted, you couldn’t resist looking up towards him. He was running down the stairs, his torn-up white vans hanging on by their singular thread as he was jogging towards you. He was wearing sweatpants that were haphazardly pulled on and the t-shirt he was wearing, the same heathered one, burnt-red in color, that he’d been wearing the night you first. . . . Damn.

But no coat. And it was frigid out.

“Jacob, where is your damn coat?!” You worried at him, not giving him a chance to say a word as he finally settled in front of you, breathless. 

“It’s not necessary,” he replied, the three words sounding more like harsh breaths than anything. “Goddamn, I am out of shape, huh?” He laughed, his hands settling on his hips as he briefly looked down, chest expanding to allow him a minute to catch his breath. 

Then, he was looking at you again. Whatever you wanted to say was trapped at the back of your throat. He was so handsome. His skin, ever-tan, glowing in the winter morning light. And the day’s new sunshine was doing the amber in the center of his eyes wonders. . . 

You almost forgot you were more than borderline mad at him. Almost. 

“What do you want, Jake?” You spit, blinking once with a roll of your eyes. The sunglasses that sat on your face were translucent enough that you knew he could see the motions of your irises. 

And, you were damn near elated at the thought that he could see your annoyance as you’d so blatantly seen his the night prior. 

He looked taken aback at your tone – yet, not surprised in the slightest, at the same time. 

“I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas,” he started, looking desperate for you to understand where he was coming from. . . That this was somehow more than a simple ‘Merry Christmas’. 

The sincerity in his eyes, with the traditional saying, was enough to make your knees weak. . . Though, it didn’t matter how sincere he was – or if he was trying to translate more than a holiday greeting. . . all that mattered was how your mind was still reeling from last night. 

So, you didn’t want to give in to any of the butterflies fluttering around in your belly. This time, you didn’t want their jittery, rousing influence. So, you stood your ground. Stayed mad at him. He’d rejected you last night. 

Rejected you — even after the (very) intense phone sex. . . After what had happened in the shower and your bedroom. . . After all of the shit he’d promised he’d do upon returning home. . . 

He hadn’t even stopped and taken a few minutes of time to hear you out. Hadn’t cared to. . . All while his baby had been kicking. For the first time.

It’s his loss, your brain echoed on a repetitive scream. And, at this moment, with your anger and hormones taking charge, you agreed. His fucking loss. He missed out.

“You already did that last night, Jake,” you clipped at him, resting your hands, subconsciously, on the small roundness of your belly. His suddenly-downcast eyes followed your movements momentarily, but quickly found their way back to your irises when you started speaking again. “You told me ‘Merry Christmas’ before you went to bed. Remember?”

“I—uh. . . Yeah, I know,” he rubbed the back of his neck, shifting nervously on his feet before he decided to tuck both hands in his sweats’ pockets. “I also wanted to apologize for that. How tired I was.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing for being tired? God, Jake,” you snapped the words, without even thinking. 

His head pulled back, once more, in shock. Those beautiful lips pursed, before he briefly chewed on them, his eyes wide as he looked to the side, shaking his head in shock at your tone. All of this, blatantly showing his growing irritation. 

But no. He had no right to be anywhere near irritated. 

It made you angry that he had the audacity to feel any sort of negative emotion. It was your turn to feel hurt. And it pissed you the fuck off that he was apologizing for being ‘tired’. 

Last night, in his eyes, you’d seen more than tiredness. There had been an unnamable, heartbroken emotion that you couldn’t figure out then or now. The way his expression had hardened and wilted, all at once. . . It was stuck in a loop in your mind. 

He’d been more than just ‘tired’. And, on top of you not being able to figure out why, he was now lying to you by omission. 

But you were starting to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t want him to see how it had affected you. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, you weren’t going to be honest with him. So, you straightened up and hesitantly stretched a forced gentle smile on your lips. 

“You had a long weekend, Jake. It’s fine,” you tried again, grabbing hold of your belt bag’s strap with one hand. The other hand, going to rest on your lower back. This dull pain in your lower back. . . It truly had been a persistent enemy in recent days. And you’d been standing in your flat-footed platform Uggs long enough, on the concrete, that your back was feeling quite ungrateful for the combination. “Thank you – so much – for apologizing. Means a lot,” you continued, semi-kindly, before your voice dipped to a tone that didn’t mask your frustration as well. “But, if that’s all. . . I’m gonna go. My back is killing me and I’m past ready to get to my grandparents’. Thanks for the Merry Christmas. ‘Preciate it.”

You never said you were going to be completely dishonest. . . Just dishonest about your feelings towards the situation. Your feelings towards him. Just as you were going to turn on your heel, he was speaking again. 

“Uh—yeah. Um. . . Of-of course,” he stuttered, stepping back with a shake of his head. “I just–I just couldn’t go the whole day without saying something to you about it.”

“Mm. I get it. Thanks,” you bitterly replied, eyes squinting a bit with a sarcastic smile. 

Without even taking another second to consider saying something else, you turned away from him. Before you could expose your heart any further. And, just as you got to your driver’s side door and opened it to get in, you turned to him once more. 

And. . . there he was. Majestic beauty, in human form – now standing before you. 

He got to be the rejected one this time. Rejected by you. You got your revenge. 

His stare was pointed at the ground and his eyebrows screwed together in a conflicted manner. He was then saying something silently to himself before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, afterwards running an open palm down his face.

He was unhappy. Whatever. He could get over it.

But— it was when the same hand went to fluff the hair on the right side of his head. . . The strands of chestnut, left skewed in the wake of the tousle. Still looked effortlessly beautiful, even with more than one hair out of place. Then, once more, he was doing it again. 

He was jittering – feeling unsure of himself, most likely. 

The doubled flustered motion made your heart sink in your chest. He was nervous. And you hated it for him. And you. For both of you. You didn’t want him to feel nervous around you. . . Hell no. Losing every bit of progress was not the goal. . . 

You were just upset. It didn’t mean you wanted to lose him if it was possible he could still care enough to stop you to tell you Merry Christmas – and apologize. Even if the apology didn’t encompass the complete truth and he was masking something else, you couldn’t knock him for doing it. For, it was something you’d done a million times before. . . 

And, pathetic as it was, even if he wanted you — just a sliver of how much you wanted him — you’d take it. The way your body and soul craved him was overwhelming. The desire to satiate it meant your morality and feminism suffered for it at times. . .

With one leg in your car, you decided you could tell him one more thing. Before you left. Just to make sure he knew your opinion on a particular matter at hand. Something he’d previously mentioned, offhandedly. 

“And, no,” you began. 

His head snapped in your direction, mouth forming an ‘o’ in surprise – surely not planning on hearing your voice again. Those handsomely thick eyebrows dipped before he lifted one in confusion. 

You continued. “You are the furthest thing from out of shape, Jake. I think I can confirm that much. . . Based on recent events and all. . .Yeah?” The lilt in your tone coincided with the blush in your cheeks. His lips quivered in satisfaction, just the slightest bit at your implication. You kept on, “Maybe it’s just a good idea to not bolt at full-fuckin’-speed down the stairs and across the lot.”

“I had to, though,” he said, his smile drooping just a bit to indicate his seriousness. With a gentle backwards jerk of his head, his brows still furrowed at you, acting as though it were supposed to be obvious that he’d been pulled to do it. He continued, “It wasn’t right for me to not hear you out when I got home. . . Real dickhead move.” 

Yeah, it wasn’t right, you mused internally. You are correct in that, Jacob Thomas. Thank you for seeing the truth of the matter.

Mentally, you were nodding your head to agree, but on the outside, you merely stuck out your bottom lip in contemplation before slapping on a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head, once again not being transparent in your emotions regarding the matter. 

“No, it wasn’t ‘fine’, y/n. And you know it,” he replied, trying to continue this conversation that you needed to end. 

“Jake. I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything. I survived. It did not affect me at all,” you lied, each word like battery acid against your tongue. Felt wrong. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Except that it was, an inner voice tried to remind you. A big ass deal, in fact. Your daughter had made it a big deal.

But you didn’t want to tell him right now. Not yet. Sharing the news would keep you in this parking lot longer and you were ready to leave. Needed some time to breathe. You could tell him next time it happened. He had no clue it had happened in the first place, so it didn’t matter anyhow. Ignorance was bliss. . . Right? 

“What was it?” He asked, stepping forward just a bit. It seemed he was letting the tender moment take over for him. 

You knew he wanted to continue this and for everything to be okay. . . But now wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t want that right now. Because, you wanted to continue being dishonest with him. You didn’t want to let the tenderness influence your actions. . . You’d already given in to it by turning to reassure him of what sort of ‘shape’ he was in.

“It wasn’t anything,” you said the same lie as before, just with different words that were laced with dishonesty. Needed to go. Seriously. There were quite literally people waiting for you. Elsie was surely counting the minutes until you got there to help with the Christmas meal prep. “I’m gonna go, though. . .”

You positioned yourself to get in the car completely when he cleared his throat to speak again. “What are you doing for Christmas today? Just gonna be with your grandparents and Elsie?” 

One of your feet was in the car, your ass nearly touching the seat. But you stayed slightly elevated to be polite. “Yeah,” you grinned, the thought of seeing them made your heart thrum. 

You truly loved your family. . . They were so damn special to you. They’d been with you through the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. . . You felt safe with them. 

But, what was strange was that you felt that safety with new people now. When, years ago, you didn’t think you ever would. . . Josh, obviously, had worked his way into your heart, yes. That had been a shock, all on its own. 

But. . . the man in front of you? He’d completely, unexpectedly, nestled into your heart further than any other person you’d ever known. It had resulted in you truly feeling safer with him than anyone else. Even with the amount of hurt that hung in the air between you, he brought a sense of calmness that no one else could. Peace. . . An unreal, inexplicably captivating amount. 

He was your Safe Place, after all. Your subconscious, completely uninhibited mind said so itself. 

You assumed it was all due to the sensation of being ‘in love’ with him. . . He was simply more than anyone else. Your love for him went to places it didn’t — couldn’t — for other people. Never had.

It took him a bit to respond, his gaze looking just as torn as you felt. “Cool,” he rasped, the smallest smirk on his lips as he took a step back. “Tell your grandparents I say hey.”

“Not Elsie?” You joked, winking his way. Continuing this interaction, against your better judgment. “I’m sure she has some stupid ass Urban-fucking-Dictionary thing to call what you’re asking me to do. . . Snubbing her and all,” you wrinkled your nose, feeling sort of cringy with your words. 

You continued rambling to stay in the moment with him. Being in his presence was what your heart craved. “Because, if this woman can’t be normal about the way she refers to human body parts and what stimulates them – something that none of us want to hear about, anyway – she sure isn’t going to be normal about other shit. . . She’ll be quite offended and I’ll have to suffer for it.”

He responded with a roll of his eyes that indicated he was in on your humor. The curve of his lips was becoming more prominent by the second. God, you didn’t want to leave him. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he responded with an intoxicatingly raspy half-laugh. “Best to not upset your sister. Tell her I said hi, too.”

He continued to back further away, out of the way. He was giving you space to get in the car. To drive away. To leave. . . And while you should have wanted to leave, you couldn’t. Didn’t seem like the right method of action now that he was apparently okay ending the conversation. Because, even if he was okay with leaving you be, you didn’t want it to be over.

No – what you wanted was for him to be at your grandparents’ with you today. . . 

So, without even thinking, you began. “Why don’t you just–?”

Fuck! No, y/n! What the hell? That is way too damn much to ask of him, the voice in your mind heckled you. Know your place, y/n. . .

Phone sex and his face between your legs was one thing. . . Inviting him over for ‘Christmas with the Family’? Another thing entirely. There was no way that wouldn’t freak him out, right? Besides, you had a feeling he already had plans with Maya. . . . It was safe to assume she’d already included him in some sort of festivity with her family today. . . .

“What was that?” He wondered aloud, a brow raising to encourage you. His tone was genuinely curious. . . And aggravatingly knowing in his question. 

You knew he knew what you were going to ask. 

But, you weren’t going to say it. Nope. 

“Nothing,” you replied with a gentle shake of your head, tucking some stray hair that had fallen behind your ear. “Merry Christmas, Ja–.”

“Wait. Before you leave–I have to ask. . .,” he began, his voice lowering a decibel that had your tummy flip-flopping. He rubbed at his chin in a way that you’d deem delicious in your increasingly hormonal state. Fuck. . . “Are you saying you don’t want to talk about stimulating body parts?” He grinned, the corners of his lips turned up. The dirty words, combined with his demeanor, was making your entire body light up. “Because. . . I’d beg to differ, babydoll.”

Babydoll. Shitfuck. The new pet name. The one that’d had your body keeling over and aching as you’d worked yourself up for him, not even forty eight hours ago. . .

Without any warning, the use of the name had you suddenly remembering everything you’d felt, holed up in that fucking family stall. . . How badly you’d needed him – needed him with you. The way your entire body had prepared itself for him. . . The mess of your release, all over the inside of your thighs. . . You’d been needy for him. All while he’d been hours away from you. . . 

Yet, now, he was right here. 

And, well, you still needed him. Badly. 

The flush in your cheeks took over as you stood before him, completely disorienting you for the time being. . . . . How long would it take for you to just go upstairs and let him. . . . .? God! No.

Christmas. Elsie. Grandma. Grandpa. Food.

So — before you could decide against it one more time, you shot him one more toss of your eyes and the tiniest smile. Weren’t going to be honest about how you felt about the matter. You’d made that deal with yourself already. Doing the same as him, and avoiding the full truth, was safest for the time being.

The blush in your cheeks absolutely gave you away, though. . . Unfortunately.

“Merry Christmas to you, Jake,” you said, stilling one final time and catching his eyes before you slipped completely inside of the Jetta. “And, yes, I will tell them all that you said hi.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Mostly, you were giving her shit when you said it. The wine had not been tempting to you in the slightest. But, the urge to give Elsie shit? That was very tempting. . . Especially as you watched her pour her glass of red and take a generous sip.

“You know how fucked up it is for you to drink that in front of a pregnant woman?” 

Elsie only rolled her eyes at your words with a swish of her wine before she took another sip. The pour, already nearly gone as she poured a touch more into the pretty holiday-themed glass. Her lips, the color of mulled wine, staining the holiday green and berries that decorated the glass. 

“You know how fucked up it is for you to say fuck on fucking Christmas?” She challenged back, setting the wine down to check her phone. 

With a little smirk, you went about finishing up the green bean casserole. When it was mixed to perfection, you opened the oven and popped it into the preheated chamber. Only a few spaces left for the rest of the food on the hot trays. You eyed the incredibly sized ham. The smell of it made your mouth water from its place on the bottom rack. 

Before your stomach threatened to fall to your feet from hunger, you shut the oven and wiped your hands. It was time to move on to the final touches of the sweet potato casserole, anyhow.

As you began peeling the boiled orange potatoes, you smiled upon hearing your grandparents’ laughter from their bedroom. It had become a tradition when you’d grown up and left the house that your grandparents wrap your presents Christmas morning while, respectively, you and Elsie would cook for everyone. 

As adults, you and your sister had insisted on making Christmas dinner for them. Both of you, finding it as a teeny-tiny way to pay them back for everything they’d done for you two over the years. A giant, delicious dinner to finish up every year – with all kinds of delicious foods, that showed gratitude to their unfailing, limitless love. A consistent love that you hadn’t known until living with them. Your mother had not even been close to being the one to ever show you the authenticity of an unconditional love. 

Which reminded you. . . Elsie still had no clue about your revealed memory. Mr. Morgan. Mom.

So, you decided you’d tell her. No better time like the present. And a little bit of fun talk for Christmas morning. . . . “You know how I’ve been doing EMDR?” 

“Yes!” She replied, looking up from her phone for the umpteenth time that morning. Thankfully, she was slipping it in her back pocket, not allowing it to be a distraction. “How’s that going? I’m sorry I’ve been shit at asking about it. Job change and the big move does have my mind a bit fucked,” she said, stirring the gravy before checking on the tenderness of the boiling potatoes that would soon become mashed. “From what I’ve read, that type of therapy can get pretty dark. . . Are you doing okay with all of that?” 

Though, as soon as she was saying her last few words, her phone was gaining her attention again, must’ve buzzed in her pocket. You thought you’d be lucky to have her attention, but you were quickly mistaken as she was checking her phone again. 

But it didn’t take her as long to answer this time, and she eventually sat her phone on the counter, giving you her undivided focus. 

Seriously. All morning. The texting.

Well. . . to be fair, it had started about an hour after you’d gotten here. The texting and/or simple act of checking shit on her phone had been nonstop. You assumed she’d been texting, though. You knew the way her mouth rested when texting. And the occasional blush on her cheeks, accompanied by tiny grins indicated it was most likely Josh on the other end. 

You caught a sly glimpse of the phone, since she’d actually set it on the counter this time. It had only been in her back pocket until now. But now that it was visible, your curiosity got the best of you. 

And, you were able to see the presumed perpetrator pop up on her screen. Three messages popping up under his name. One after the other. . . . And then a fourth, right before your eyes. Dear lord.

The man did not know how to send one concise text. . . One thought, never failing to be split into multiple bits.

Elsie had told you already that the curly headed twin would be coming later. You didn’t know where he was now — all you knew was he wasn’t there yet. You assumed he was spending Christmas morning – at the very least – with Jake and Sam. Even if Jake did have plans with Maya, you knew him better than to believe he hadn’t carved out time for his brothers on Christmas Day. 

Danny had mentioned going home for Christmas on game night, so you knew it was just the three brothers here in New York for the holiday. There was no way they hadn’t decided on doing something to celebrate.

Though, selfishly, you wanted Josh here with you; he was a comfort. And, Christmas mornings being more comfortable didn’t hurt. And, stupid as it was, on Christmas, you always began to miss your mom the slightest bit. . . The woman had more negativity associated with her than positivity – by a landslide. 

But. . . She was your mom. And she was gone. On Christmas. What was supposed to be the happiest day of the year. . . 

Although, (of course) the ‘missing’ always came with overwhelming resentment. . . so you only ever tried to block it out. But, with lovely EMDR, the feelings were much more prominent than usual – harder to block.

So, seriously. . .Warmth and comfort was a necessity. 

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be experiencing your favorite source of comfort any more today. . . In the form of Josh’s twin. Fuck Maya. Seriously.

“Well,” you began with a slight pause, shifting your mind away from his goddess girlfriend. To busy your hands, you decided on grabbing a Bubly from the fridge. A newfound staple drink in your Grandma’s kitchen. Cherry, specifically. You popped the tab and took a sip before continuing, going to stand next to the sink as Elsie went about draining the now-fully boiled white potatoes and placing all of the food you’d prepared on the island. “I haven’t had too many dark sessions of unraveling the shit from our past. But. . . I did see mom again,” you paused, giving her time to respond to the words. 

But, she didn’t respond. No, instead, she was checking her phone. Yet again. 

So, you went on, trying to emphasize the importance of the previous words with your next to get her attention. “The first time I’ve been able to fully make out her face in years. . .” 

Still, though. No response. Her hands were slightly shaky, but the small, secret smile on her face as she stared at her screen, said it was a positive sort of shaking. They were truly insatiable. Whatever. Good for them and their happy relationship.

You continued, essentially talking to yourself at this point, it seemed. “EMDR is intense, but it has seriously worked wonders for me. . . You know, remembering things that I’ve forgotten and need to remember. It’s been a lot — especially with all of the mom shit. . . but it’s been worth it.”

To your surprise, she actually gave a response. But it was barely a response. She’d only offered a gentle,  “Yeah. . . Sounds like it.” But, still. She hadn’t stopped for a second what she was doing. 

She just kept busying herself with the food and her phone. Food, phone, food, phone. . .

Then, she was taking the lid off the pan on the stove to check on the cranberry sauce your grandma had put on. . . The vinegary, bitterly sweet cranberry sauce was the one thing your Grandmother still insisted on making. And, after a taste, Elsie was adding a touch more of raspberry vinegar to the pan. 

Normally, you loved your Grandma’s cranberry sauce. And, the smell of the red fruit and vinegar combination usually made you feel excited for the taste on your tongue. 

This Christmas, however, it was much different. 

The smell of the additional vinegar with the lid off of the pot, was making your stomach churn. And, as Elsie stirred it to mix the vinegar, your stomach rolled as the potently sour smell wafted through the air. 

The suddenly upset tummy only told you one thing: Lavender was not a fan of vinegar. . . And, chances were, she wouldn’t love Grandma’s cranberry sauce like her Mommy did. 

So, you backed away from the stove, your nose saved as you held your breath. You decided it was best to go to the opposite side of the kitchen with your sweet potato supplies. 

And once there, with your back turned to the stove, you let out the breath you’d been holding and finished peeling them. 

Once that step was over, you were dumping them into another bowl before holding your breath to gather the brown sugar and syrup that you’d mix in with them, from Elsie’s side of the kitchen. 

And, once you were at your counter again, you let out a ragged breath, your lungs not able to hold air to the same capacity they once could. With a baby steadily growing and taking up space that your organs usually did, something as simple as holding your breath looked much different now. 

The bright orange vegetables were cooked to perfection, breaking up smoothly under the potato masher you were wielding. The brown sugar and syrup were measured by eye, and dumped into the dish soon, once the potatoes were mashed properly. As always, you were readily looking forward to this scrumptious casserole. 

This was your favorite holiday dish. And, a big part of the reason you loved it so much was because it would eventually be finished off with little marshmallows. . . Yum. 

Thankfully, Lavender seemed to agree with her Mama on this one. 

Your mouth was still watering, as usual, at the smell of sweet potatoes. Your tummy rumbled as you held your breath again to face the direction of the stove.  

You dumped the mixture into the casserole dish sitting on the kitchen island. The dish had patiently awaited the potatoes on the kitchen island. 

The island held a variety of salads, fruits, crackers, dips, and veggies — all of them, littering the surface. These items were always first on the list to prepare, since they were good to snack on and couldn’t ‘get cold’. 

Once the sugary potato mix was pristinely pressed against the glass pan, you took a healthy whiff of the food you’d been working on. Then, you made your way back over towards the oven with the potatoes. Mouth closed. Nostrils saved, your stomach not in peril.

When you got to the stove, Elsie was opening the oven door to check on the ham. And once you were bending over to place your food on the last available spot in the oven, you quickly realized your sister was damn near shutting the oven door on your arm. 

“Elsie! Careful!” You urged, eyebrows creasing at the way her body seemed to be buzzing beside you. “Goddamn, sis.”

“Sorry,” she said on a distracted breath as she poked at the ham with the thermometer. “Just trying to finish this shit up. I’m starving.” 

You ignored her, your skin heating with annoyance. And, not just at her refusal to listen to you. No, it was because, for the second time that morning, you were being fibbed to by someone you loved. First, Jake. Now, Elsie. You knew there was more to why her shoulders were quivering with some sort of pent up emotion as she moved away to give you space. 

Whatever she and Josh were discussing was distracting her to a point of oblivion. . . It was just lovely. But, for now, you’d give her a pass and let her live in her own little world of bliss. One of you should get to.

Yet, her nervous energy was translating to you in a way you couldn’t ignore. Your hold on the dish, a little too tight. And, too late, you realized your unwavering hold on the glass had your pinky briefly touching the oven rack as you placed it there. The searing heat was instantaneous in its sensations, all the way from your smallest finger to your elbow, you felt it. 

Dammit! 

“Mother of fuck! Fuck it all to damn hell!” 

That sharp, stinging, and blistering pain was already forming a welp on your finger as you carefully removed your hand fully and shut the oven. Fuck, it hurt! 

The previous slew of dirty words blurted out of your mouth a touch too loudly, alerting your Grandmother, all the way from her bedroom. “Y/n y/m/n!” The older woman screeched in a motherly tone from the other room. Curse her super hearing abilities. You’d been blessed with a grandma who could hear a damn pin drop. . . her ears, continuing to refuse aging. “Watch your damn mouth!”

“Mary Jane!” You heard your Grandpa scolding her, just the same as she had you. 

Even with the pain that was radiating up throughout your entire hand, you couldn’t help the tiny grin at her own slip-up. At the same time, you turned the kitchen sink to the coldest it could go as you waited for it to chill completely.

Your Grandma was not a typical elderly woman. And you loved her so much for it. Prim and proper and so clean cut – yes. She was beauty, she was grace. . . But her mouth had always been one to slip a curse word in – whenever she wanted, a dirty word or two was known to slip past her lips.

It was no shock to you when the older woman came racing into the room to check on you. It seemed Elsie noticed your pain at the same time that your Grandma was entering the room, the younger woman’s body sidling up beside yours at the counter. Just as you were putting your hand under the chilling sink water, your Grandma was popping up at the other side.

The cold water against your hot flesh felt like heaven and hell, all at once. 

“Y/n, honey, put your hand under the water,” your Grandma said, on a hurried breath, even as she watched you do exactly that from her new spot beside you. “Goodness gracious, Lord have mercy, y/n.”

“I am, Grandma,” you replied with a small, huffy laugh. “Calm down.”

“Is your heart racing?” Elsie asked shortly after you finished speaking, her voice a bit shaky still. “Are you okay?” 

Are you okay, Elsie? You internally bated her as you turned to her to give her a look.

“Yes, babygirl. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Your Grandmother asked at the same time as your vibrating sister.

“You two. . . I am okay. Baby is okay,” you replied with a small grin, glancing over at your Grandma before focusing on your finger. “Can one of you get me a towel though?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. I’ll get it. God,” Elsie responded instantly, seeming disappointed in herself. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she walked to do the task. “I’m sorry I’m so spacy. . .”

“You think?!” You hissed, though your mouth stayed curved in a smile. Staying mad at Elsie wasn’t easy.

“You’re spacy, Elsie Bug?” Grandma pondered from beside you, placing her hand on your back, the firm and reassuring touch floated soothingly  through your entire body. “What does that mean?”

“It means her head’s in the clouds, Grandma,” you said, on behalf of your bumbling sister. “Josh has her all weird and googly-eyed. Even over the phone. . . All morning and afternoon.”

Just as soon, Elsie was beside you again and slipping the tea towel under the sink’s freezing spray only briefly before holding it out for your hand. It took you a bit of time to oblige her, enjoying the feeling of the coolness against your burning flesh. Felt nice. 

But, the idea of the icy cold towel being snugly wrapped around your warm, persistently stinging finger sounded like a dream. So, turning off the water, you spun on your heel to face Elsie. Your back, now, to your Grandma. 

“You know why, Grandma,” Elsie insisted, shooting a look in the older woman’s direction, over your shoulder. “Remember what we talked about earlier? What I asked you about?”

“What does that mean?” You pried at her, brows drawn in with utter confusion. 

What in the fuck could she be hiding? And your Grandma knew about it, too? Was this why Elsie was acting so weird? She always got nervous and edgy when it came to surprises. . . 

After budging at her figuratively, you did so literally, with your elbow against her arm, as she attempted to wrap your finger tightly in the soft material. The movement of your arm took your hand from her grip momentarily, making her growl. 

“Y/n. Quit. Let me wrap your finger.”

“Elsie.”

“Oh! Yes! Our extra gue–.” But, before she could finish, she was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Well, lookie there! That must be them!” 

Them? What? Your mind was going a mile a minute. What were they implying?

It took almost no time for your Grandmother to race to the front door on her spindly legs. The woman was still rather fit for her age of almost 75. She’d taken her health very seriously, always. . . which you’d always admired about her.

It took less than a minute for her to get there, with the door to the house being on the other side of the wall. And, instantly, upon opening, you heard Josh’s rather cheerful voice through the wall. 

Elsie’s hand stilled on top of yours, mid-towel wrap. You looked at her curiously, her touch slightly clammy on your skin.

“Ms. Mary Jane!” He exclaimed familiarly, his voice quite actually reverberating off the walls of the house. “A very Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays to you, madam!”

Then, without any warning, he was very loudly singing “Mary Jane” by Rick James. . . to your Grandmother. Thankfully, he was leaving out the slightly explicit parts about Mary Jane turning him on and shit. Your eyes went to the wall, as if he could see your raised brow at the song choice.

While you were cringing at the song, it was only sending your Grandma into a fit of laughter. 

“Woo!” You heard your Grandma squeal from the entryway. “I wasn’t prepared for the dancin’, Joshua!”

Oh, Josh. . .

“Oh my god,” Elsie said to you, snickering under her breath. A little laugh left her lips as she rolled her eyes. “He is a mess.” 

The continued laughter that came through the wall made a smile fit to your lips. But you couldn’t let the moment pass without a comment about the song. With a tap against your hand, you noticed Elsie tying a bow with the small towel, leaving your now-wrapped hand. 

But, rather than running to Josh, she was checking on the ham – again. It shocked you that she wasn’t rushing to Josh. But, since she wasn’t, you didn’t. 

You also took notice of the fact that she wasn’t shaking anymore. . . Which relieved you. . . . But left you wondering what it meant. Had she just been dying for Josh to get here?

You stood in your place to joke with him, through the wall. Your voice raised slightly for him to hear you through the love song he continued to sing. “Rick James, Josh? Seriously?”

Just as soon as you’d asked your question, he was rounding the corner into the kitchen. 

But, the joke died on your lips – your mind completely blanking – as soon as the curly headed man made it into the room. 

 Because, trailing behind him was. . . Jake. 

You were pretty sure your heart stopped in your chest at the sight of him. The breath in your lungs, completely desolate from your chest with a single gasp. 

Oh, Jake. 

He looked so handsome in his all black attire. Black sweater, black jeans. And those worn, black Chelsea boots. . . The coins he’d started wearing, laying just right between his chest muscles. . . His long hair — various strands still damp from an apparent shower. . . Fuck. 

And his face, the most stunning part of all. He rivaled every other man you’d ever laid eyes on. No, didn’t rival — kicked them out of the ball park. He was immaculate, perfection in the most incredible form. 

Those features you’d studied for mornings and nights on end, nearly mirroring whatever expression you were making. A sort of stunned look behind his dark, deep set eyes.

You could see his apparent delight at the sight of you — in the loose grin that adorned his pretty lips. 

Though, rather than shock on his face (like you knew was painted on yours), he was waiting to see what your surprise entailed. It was as though he was waiting to see if you’d be more thrilled or upset by his presence. 

You observed his brown eyes, golden in the late afternoon sun shining in from the window behind you. Just like this morning. . . 

Those eyes, scanning your face, waiting to see how you felt about his arrival. And, rather than making the man suffer, you decided to show him. 

While you knew you couldn’t walk over to him and create a display, you knew you had to do something that would properly express the hope blossoming in your chest at the sight of him. The lack of display was upsetting, yes, but you were sure it would stun your poor Grandmother. The woman was oblivious to all of the parts and pieces of the ‘Jake and y/n puzzle’. 

Completely and totally oblivious.

You had to trust that your response would be fitting.

As he moved towards you, your heart plunged into the pit of your throat. He was coming up to you, just as Josh was to Elsie. He wasn’t touching you, but he was only a foot away, at best, as Josh and Elsie collided in a hug. 

He was still not as close as you wanted him, as he shuffled on his feet. But, he was as close as he could be. . . And the fact that he was near at all — in the same damned house as you — that was all that mattered. 

You let your lips rise in the most natural smile you’d felt since his initial return home last night. 

The same appreciation and whim that had been evident in your heart then was absolutely present now. Was this your second try? After all, he had come here. . . Though, had it fully been his choice? 

God, you didn’t know. And that was all it took for you to tone down just enough to stay in the reality of the situation. He was here, but he wasn’t yours. . . He wasn’t here as your boyfriend. He was here as Josh’s brother. 

But still, you didn’t hide the feelings swarming in your heart. You let your eyes communicate your unadulterated, contented bliss. . . 

And with the way his own eyes sunk into yours, you knew he understood — just enough. 

He knew that you were happy he was here. You could tell by the way his features softened.

And, that was all you needed at the moment. Just wanted him to know — ‘all was well’. 

“What brings you here, Jacob?” You asked with a bit of a teasing lilt in your tone. You had to remember you were being watched by an unassuming Grandma.

But, to your appeasement, she was soon escorting herself out of the vicinity. “I’m going to help Grandpa finish the gift wrapping! We are just about done,” she clarified. And, to not seem suspicious, your eyes went to watch her instead of the man who stood a few feet in front of you. “We’ll be ready to eat in an hour or so, girls!”

And, as she left, Jake came just the slightest bit closer. . . Enough closer that you could smell the vanilla laced with the sandalwood and amber in his cologne. . . Your favorite smell. 

“Just thought I’d join Josh on this excursion,” he clarified, his words authentic with the slightest bit of mystery hiding behind the phrase. “Sounded to me like this is the place to be. . .”

And, at the sound of his voice, you felt her. 

For the briefest of moments, for the first time since last night, you felt a little rustle in your belly that you now knew as a Lavender kick. 

And after the first, came another swift one, right where you’d felt her the night before. Her body was positioned in a way that you felt her little feet, right below your belly button. 

The timing was perfect for you to tell Jake about the kicks. He was right here this time. Right in front of you. And, you were just about to when he reached up to rub his chin. 

It was then, though, that you spotted a thick, dark silver ring on the middle finger of his right hand. . . Wasn’t wearing any of his other rings around this one. . . It was obviously a special piece of jewelry. 

This one, seeming to match the coins around his neck — that one-of-a-kind, antique silver that is unattainable unless you have money. . . A new ring that appeared to cost a lot of money. . .

You were hoping against hope that Josh had bought it for him. . . Or, maybe Jake had purchased it for himself? 

Surely Maya hadn’t. . . Right? It looked like an old, piratical relic. And last you knew, she couldn’t remember the difference between pirates and fucking mythology. . . Seriously, again — what in the fuck? Knowing that about the woman still got you.

So, really, you settled a decent amount. . . It was near impossible that it had been from her. 

Perhaps, he’d had it for a while, but had never worn it around you? Or you just hadn’t paid close enough attention to his wardrobe to notice? Yet, that was a fat chance. 

Maybe he’d bought it for himself with these new label paychecks. . . However, you knew the jewelry he gravitated towards. 

And, really, you paid very close attention to his wardrobe — perhaps more so now, than before. It was all your longing gaze had to torture you with. . . Concentrating on every Jake detail was the gospel for you. 

All of that to say, he had his ‘go-to’ rings. The same four or five silver rings — anytime he wore hand jewelry, those were his staples. So, truly. . . You knew this had to be a newer ring. One you’d yet to see. . .And, even if you hated the answer, you had to know who had bought it. 

Stupid, stupid idea. . . Why did you choose to do this shit to yourself? 

Whether you should have or not, you (foolishly) asked. “Who got you the fancy ring? Haven’t ever seen that one. . .”

The moment you saw the little twinge in his brows and the thoughtful purse of his lips. . . you knew you shouldn’t have asked. Fuck it all. His eyes glanced down at the hand he was, now, holding out at his waist between you two. Like it held all of the answers on how to respond to such a question. 

As if she’d sensed the new topic of conversation, and her mommy’s stress, Lavender began kicking harder. She was trying to gain your attention, it seemed. And while she absolutely had your attention, so did her father. . . Who you were still waiting on an answer from. 

After he’d taken a few too many seconds to deliberate an answer, and Elsie and Josh were seemingly in their own world, you decided you’d pry further. If they were distracted, you couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of your sister and your friend if Jake were to act annoyed with your additional prodding. 

You raised your brow at him. And, doing your best to ease any tension, you lightly tapped the top of his boot with a sock-clad toe. 

“Hey. . .,” you tried, leaning over a bit to get a better look at his face, which was now looking up from the floor. But, not at you. No way. He was very concerned with the window to Grandma’s garden behind you. Why had you asked about that damn ring? “Jake. You okay?” 

And, still, he didn’t respond with words, but he was at least looking at you again. All he did with his mouth was lick his lips; which, in turn, caused your insides to shiver with desperation for him. It made you feel even worse. This entire situation was so fucked. 

So, you back-tracked. Tried to save face. “Y-you don’t have to answer; I was just being nosy. It’s not my business to—.”

“You know who did, y/n,” he finally spoke, so quietly and with a tone that seemed too short for your taste. 

There wasn’t any way to stop the way your eyes leveled with his. You glared at him, hard. Right into those eyes. The same eyes you saw behind yours in every dream, the ones you wished to be the same to grace Lavender’s pretty face. . . 

But you weren’t feeling sentimental. Even as he seemed to soften, once again, under your penetrating, pinning stare. You weren’t having it. He’d made you mad. 

What was his problem with you simply asking a damned fucking question? You instantly took back feeling bad about asking. While it might not have been your business, it was a friendly conversation starter. 

And he was cutting you off mid-ramble, acting put out with you for asking about a motherfucking ring?

Lavender’s kicking continued on, growing feistier by the second. And with one particular jab to your bladder, you suddenly had no time to entertain Jake’s moody ass. Fuck him and his stupid ring, you suddenly had to pee. 

You were absolutely going to pee down your leg if you stood there a second longer. 

She was pressing so adamantly against you that the pain was sharp and dull all at once. You felt the buzzing throb, warning that your body would open with no chance of stopping if you weren’t quick.

Fuck. 

Without taking another second, you were shoving past him, taking out your frustration a bit while you could. Before you could leave the kitchen to get to the hallway bathroom, though, he was softly grasping your arm to make you pause. 

God. No, Jacob. Not the time.

He was already pissing you off. And now his daughter was insisting you needed to piss this badly, because of the bit of Bubly that you’d indulged in over the past hour. 

And, his surprise arrival definitely had you feeling all jittery and on edge. . . In a way you wanted to enjoy. But you couldn’t. He was making that impossible. With the blessed piece of silver on his finger and his snippy ass mouth. 

All of the fire you felt in your chest, you channeled to reflect in your irises as your eyes snapped to his. 

He looked apologetic. Good for him.

And, when he spoke again, his inflection proved the emotion emanating from his beautiful, amber-brown eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean—.”

Just as you felt his hand flex around your forearm, you yanked it from his grip, stumbling back a bit with the action. Which, of course, he reached out to help with instantly. 

“No, Jake,” you growled, holding both hands out to avoid his touch. Didn’t need his hands distracting you. Fuck him and his incredible hands. On top of that, a fucking tsunami was threatening to burst the dam of your body, lest you leave. “Not now.”

Seconds later, you were finally on your way out of the kitchen. And even as he tried to stop you again, calling your name once to stop you, you didn’t hear him. . . 

Because, all you could focus on was the heavenly hallway bathroom that finally came into view. The room that would offer you sweet, sweet relief. Relief of the heinous, painful strain of your damned bladder. . . 

As well as relief from the unexpected, aggravatingly delicious presence of Jacob fucking Kiszka. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Jacob?” Josh poked, raising his brow at the twin that stood behind you. 

He was right. His brother’s panties were, in fact, in a damn twist. 

For the past hour since they’d arrived and he’d pissed you off in the kitchen, Jake had become oddly quiet. 

You hadn’t gone out of your way to talk to him and ask him about it. . . Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. . . . Or so you tried to convince yourself. And, you were succeeding by playing oblivious to how your shitty response had turned into his now-shitty mood. 

It was annoying how you were still feeling in his presence, no matter how badly he made you want to punch a wall. Where Elsie had once been ridiculously jittery and weird, you now were. It felt juvenile. . . Felt like you were a preteen girl whose damned crush was hanging out with her for the first time. 

Every time you glanced his way, your heart quite actually twisted in your chest at the mere sight of how handsome he was. . . How damn good he smelled, attacking you, every time he came near to you. . . 

And, while you were finally (mostly) over the little fit concerning the ring, you didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable to him. You knew you couldn’t handle a conversation and keep face. Especially not one about how he was feeling. You were not going to ask if he was ‘okay’ again. Not right now. . . 

But. . . there was a conversation was coming. You could feel it.

“They’re not in a twist, Josh,” he growled with a huff, his voice close at your back. Goosebumps were persisting on your neck. He’d come to stand behind you a few minutes prior as he’d finished conversation with your Grandpa in the other room. 

He’d joined you immediately after his conversation, as you took photos of Josh and Elsie. “And panties?” He hushed at Josh, tone distressed, worried. “Really? In front of their grandparents?”

“They’re not even in the room, Jake,” Elsie said with a snort, snuggling closer to Josh for another picture. “And they’ve heard worse than panties. Scout’s honor.”

Jake scooted closer to you. He hadn’t been bold enough to come much closer until now. He’d kept a safe distance from a couple of feet away. 

But, not now. Now, he was inches away from your ass. You could feel how close he was, by the way his body heat radiated to your body. 

Deciding to just suck it up — and not able to resist the urge to tend to his needs — you looked up and over your shoulder at him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. You would never get used to how handsome he was.  

“Jake,” you tried quietly, immediately gaining his attention. His face softened as soon as he was looking at you. Josh and Elsie were in their own little world already, giggling with each other and having a tickling contest or some shit. Gross. “There’s no need to be tense or anything. Just relax and enjoy yourself. It’s Christmas.”

His jaw went loose momentarily, then it was flexing again, before his next words. “Yeah, but you haven’t been acting like yourself and I feel like it’s my—.”

“Rolls and cranberry sauce are finished!” Grandma was suddenly piping up from the kitchen doorway. 

It was time for Christmas dinner. . . And, as if on cue, you felt your tummy rumble a bit. 

Somehow, you’d been able to put off how insanely hungry you were for all of this food. . . As a constantly hungry pregnant woman, on Christmas, you’d ignored your hunger for the holiday food. Damn. That was saying something about your headspace when it came to Jake.

“Let’s eat, girls and boys,” your Grandpa added, coming up behind the white haired lady. His thick, black and gray eyebrows raised as he looked at you all, awaiting a response. “Gotta get this goin’. I’m hungry.” 

And, then, they were both disappearing from the doorway. You assumed they were on their merry way to find their own places at the table. Following in their lead was all you wanted at the moment, as your tummy tickled at you again for satiation.

“Let’s go eat,” you brought the phone down, clicking it shut to give your full attention to him. Both of you turned a little until you were fully facing each other. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You can sit next to me?”

The offer came on its own, your heart speaking for you. And there was that fucking vulnerability you’d been afraid of showing. 

He breathed, his chest visibly deflating with relief. A grin quirked his lips, his brows rising. “I would love that.”

“What about our picture?” Elsie whined from where she stood, now-behind you from where you’d turned to Jake. 

Jake’s loose, lopsided grin made butterflies swarm your chest and belly. You felt his emotion, throughout your veins. His eyebrows raised in amusement, as you rolled your eyes at Elsie’s continued bickering. 

You had to turn to her to show her your irritation, forcing you to turn your back on Jake again. . . Which only irritated you further.

“Come on, y/n. Please,” she huffed, literally stomping her foot. “I took too damn many of you the other night for you to not return the favor. And you were basically fucking naked! This is nothing.”

Jake’s throat cleared behind you and your cheeks blushed as crimson as your grandmother’s living room walls. “Elsie Mabel,” you scolded her. “Seriously?!”

“Oh my god, Hormonal Holly,” she sassed, narrowing her eyes at you. “Cut the shit, shut the fuck up, and just take one more picture. Goddamn.”

“It’s nice to be young and in love on Christmas,” Josh explained, unnecessarily. 

Seriously. What the fuck, Josh?

“It absolutely is,” Elsie reiterated, pressing against him and pressing her lips to his. 

O-kay. Dear God. You couldn’t take anymore of the cutesy couple-y shit. So, yanking the phone out again, you started snapping pictures. 

Whatever ploy this was, it was working to get under your skin just enough. 

And you had a damned good feeling you knew exactly what they were doing. . .

-🌼🌼🌼-

When the cranberry sauce was being passed at the table, two people away from you, you instantly stilled and closed your eyes. You really didn’t want to puke. . . So, you did your best to ignore the smell, holding your breath. 

Jake noticed, placing a gentle hand on your thigh under the table as soon as your body stiffened. Your skin heated at his touch immediately. The butterflies were flying rampantly in your tummy. 

Naturally, you leaned over towards him and away from your Grandmother on your right side. When you were facing him completely, you looked up and into his eyes. 

“You okay?” He asked, Amber-brown eyes wide and curious. 

“The sauce—,” you gasped momentarily, catching a brief whiff when you stopped holding your breath. 

Your stomach rolled, the nearer it came. His hand tightened on your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. So, you decided to not try to speak, instead, throwing your pointer finger over his shoulder and placing a hand over your mouth. 

He peeked behind him, seeing exactly what you were referring to. 

“Oh. . . Don't like cranberry sauce?” He quietly asked, grinning down at you. Both of you, in this little world with each other as everyone else rambled on about nothing around you. 

His hand was still comfortably on your thigh, his thumb creating soothing circles on the top of it.

Rather than taking the easy way out and just shaking your head, you decided to try speaking again. You opened your mouth, hushing the word, “Vinegar.”

Though, when the smell momentarily infiltrated your senses with the opening of your mouth, you almost hurled. 

Your eyes pinched shut to find a sense of calm, covering your mouth and nose with one hand. His thumb was now creating careful stripes against your cashmere pants. You blinked your eyes open at him again. A small grin settled on your lips as you went to hold your breath once more. 

The way he was looking at you had your skin growing warm. His irises held every bit of care the man could muster, you were sure of it. His own smile was secretive and it made you want to kiss him. . . So, so badly wanted to kiss him. . . Especially as his thumb went to move nearer to your inner thigh. His fingers, now nestled on the softer, inner part of your thigh, in the crease made between your legs. 

Your core was heating up at how near he was to where you needed him most. For a second, you forgot you felt sick at all. . . Your heart, thumping hard against your chest and distracting you from the momentary crisis. 

Then, he was speaking again. “I don’t like vinegar either,” he said with a wink, his hand held tight to your thigh. You were glad you were turned away from your Grandmother, not wanting her to be privy to this interaction that was making your skin catch fire. “Hate it, actually.”

Wait. . . . Your brows crinkled in wonder. . . .

Oh my god. . ., you realized, watching the sparkle of the dining room light flicker in his eyes. Is it because of him? Can babies inherit food aversions in the womb? 

You didn’t know, but it seemed like a logical assumption. Your heart leaped at the thought of her already inheriting his traits. It was at that same moment that he also let go of your thigh, coming out of the little world you two had created to address his brother. 

Josh was apparently speaking, trying to get Jake’s attention and effectively broke you two out of the little world you’d created for the past couple of minutes.

You were definitely upset by the loss of contact for a few seconds before you found reprieve in watching the back of his head. . . His gorgeous, long locks. . . Thicker than one might think, always taking so long to dry. Even though they’d been here for over an hour, you still saw a couple of damp strands from a shower he must’ve taken before arriving. . . . 

It was ridiculous that his hair was enough to make you feel better. 

God, you had it bad. . .  That was for sure.

You watched as he held a hand up towards Josh. Thank god. Because he was just about to pass the cranberries to Jake. . . . 

Oh, Jake, your hero. . . .

“Oh, yes. . .,” Josh said, snapping you completely out of your reverie. You turned back to face forward in your seat when you saw him pointing a finger towards his brother, whose hand now sat on his own thigh instead of yours. You admired the veins in Jake’s hand as it laid on his leg. . . His long fingers. . . . Those digits, so skilled. The sight and thoughts had your head spinning. 

The louder twin was turning back to Elsie with the sauce, where she held it, curiously eyeing you, not yet placing it back in the middle of the table. 

The curly headed twin decided to inform the whole table of what was happening when he spoke next. “Jacob, here, has an aversion to vinegar. . . Always has hated it.”

“Grandma’s one dish, Jake? Can’t even try it?” Elsie questioned, jokingly. She wanted in on it, but she was still silently questioning. 

She was still holding the bowl in her hands. Though, she was about to ask a follow up question — you could see it in her eyes. You had no idea what it was going to be, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it.

But, thankfully, Grandpa beat her to it with his own reassuring statement. 

“Eh, it’s alright, kid,” Grandpa said with a small smile aimed towards Jake. The gray-haired man was putting some mac and cheese on his plate before passing that ceramic bowl to your Grandma. “It is delicious, my MJ. . . Just can’t be everyone’s cup of tea, hm?”

“Of course not, Harold. No harm, no foul,” she agreed, looking over at Jake with understanding painted on her beautifully aged features. She truly did age so incredibly well. You could only hope you’d be so lucky. “I’m not offended at all, Jake.”

Grandma smiled at something Josh said. But, you weren't aware of what he’d said because you could only stare at Jake, as he turned towards your Grandmother. 

“I promise I’ll try anything else you cook, Ms. Mary Jane,” he said in response to her, giving her an easy smile. Your chest ignited at the sight of the dimple in his cheek. “It’s not you, swear.”

“I believe you, sweetie. You’re welcome here anytime to try any and all of my other cooking,” Grandma assured before she was tapping you with a graceful finger. “Y/n. . . I’m sure you want some of the mac and cheese? You make it so deliciously, honey pie.”

When you were turning from Jake to grab the bowl from her, your Grandpa was still carrying on with your roommate. 

“Oh, Jacob. . .,” your Grandpa started as he forked at his green bean casserole. “Y/n’s homemade mac and cheese, kid. . . Woo-wee! My little Sugarplum is a fantastic little chef when she wants to be. . . You’ve gotta try it, son,” he encouraged, before taking a bite of his green beans. 

“Of course I’ll try it, sir,” Jake responded, nudging your shoulder with his own. You blushed under his attention, trying to focus on the warm noodle dish in your hands. “I do a lot of the cooking at home. . . Never really give her a chance to cook for me. Guess I should sometime, hm?”

Fuck. That sounded domestic. . . Too domestic. You didn’t look at him, kept your head down with a little smile on your lips as you hummed a sort-of response. When you passed the macaroni his way, your Grandpa’s little giggle caught your attention.  

Yes, giggle. 

What the hell? 

Had he caught on to Jake’s couple-y remark? Shit.

You looked his way, seeing he’d swallowed his last bite and was taking a drink of water. Then, he was grinning. “There’s no vinegar in it, Jacob – don’t worry,” he grinned, winking at Jake with a twinkle in his eye. “Unless y/n slipped some in this year. . .”

Thank god. You were very relieved that no one had picked up on Jake’s previous statements. . . Didn’t need anyone thinking too much of anything.

“Oh, yes, Grandpa. . . Vinegar in macaroni and cheese sounded too damn good. . .couldn’t resist the urge,” you sarcastically responded. Shaking your head at the older man, you released your own little giggle.

Your Grandpa’s joy around Jake was something you really, really loved. . . You couldn’t blame the old man for brightening up around the younger one. Jake brought the same immense joy to you. He made your heart feel warm in your chest.

“Okay, are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room? We all know — well, besides the twins — how much y/n loves Grandma’s cranberry sauce. . . Don’t you want some, y/n?” Elsie piped up from where she sat at the round table. She was across from you, and you caught her eyes with a raised brow. 

Was she forgetting you didn’t get to call the shots with what you ate these days? 

There was a tiny human who did a lot of the deciding. “The baby doesn’t like it,” you told her, sticking out your bottom lip. 

And, to avoid more questioning or Jake saying something without thinking (again), you decided to say something to (kind of) change the subject. 

You’d go ahead and drop the news you’d been anxiously waiting to divulge to your grandparents for weeks now. . . . News that you wanted so badly to share – even more than the news of the kicking. 

. . .which you still hadn’t told anyone about. Because, the more you’d considered it, the more wrong it felt to tell anyone before Jake. . . She was his baby, after all. Yours and his. . . No one else’s.

“I’d rather not upset the baby girl,” you remarked, looking down for a second to play it off. 

But, you couldn’t help the temptation to look over towards your Grandma when you heard her fork clatter against her plate. Elsie’s flare for dramatics came naturally from the gene pool. Your Grandma’s face made yours light up. Her blue, glassy eyes were wide with excitement, her mouth hanging open. 

“Y/n y/m/n. . . What in the heavens did you just tell us, sneaky pants?” She remarked, her tone one of a wise, all-knowing parent. “Did I just hear that my great grandbaby is a—?”

“A girl,” your Grandpa finished, from where he sat beside Elsie. His voice was full of pride. And when you looked his way, you saw the tears glistening in his eyes. His face read nothing but grandfatherly pride, his lips shaky with a small smile.

Your own eyes filled with wetness. Seeing your Grandpa so vulnerable was something you truly treasured. All your life, you’d wished to know every part of the (more-than-slightly grumpy) old man. . . And the more he opened up in recent months, the closer you got to knowing more and more of him. It was a dream for you, quite honestly. You’d always felt an innate sense of closeness to him. . . An unspoken understanding.

Back in the present moment, you were momentarily nervous over something you hadn’t really considered. . . 

Jake’s very apparent lack of reaction. 

You were too afraid to check his face for fatherly pride. All for the simple fact that you didn’t want him to accidentally out your fling to your grandparents. Though, thankfully, the two elderly people at the table didn’t catch onto Jake’s reaction. . . Or, lack thereof. 

Here was what worried you: you knew it would make sense to your grandparents for Josh and Elsie to already know. But would it make sense for your roommate to know the gender before family? 

Fuck. You didn’t know. You’d never done this shit before. But, even considering the fact that they had no clue who the father was, they still didn’t seem too worried by Jake’s non-response. . . 

Chances were, they just thought a roommate might not care so much about such a thing. And they were probably right to assume that. An ordinary male roommate probably wouldn’t care. 

But he wasn’t an ordinary male roommate. . . 

Noticeably, you weren’t involving him at the moment. And you hated it. You felt really bad for not — but it wouldn’t make any sense to your grandparents if you did. . . 

Though, Jake had to know something was amiss. You knew he did. . . Your back was turned to him during this important moment concerning his daughter, for God’s sake. . . Completely closing him out. . . Like he wasn’t involved at all.

Guilt overtaking you, you sent the briefest of peeks his way, only to find him forcing a toothless smile as he stared down at his plate. It wasn’t natural, you knew that much. And his leg was bouncing under the table to indicate he was feeling strange. 

But, to make matters worse, you watched his next move. Saw it happening before it actually happened. The tousling of the long hair over his ear was enough to show you that he, in fact, was not doing okay. 

He was definitely feeling jittery. He wanted to say something, you were sure, but he wasn’t going to say anything without you including him first. 

And he, by god, was not going to look at you. His eyes were trained on his hand, which was fidgeting with his fork against his plate. 

God. You felt so bad. Why hadn’t you just told them? They were going to find out eventually. . . 

Well. . . You knew why. You didn’t really know how to confess to a friends-with-benefits situation. . . . . to your grandparents. 

And now was definitely not the time you wanted to divulge that information. You’d already given them enough big news for one evening. The gender was a big deal. Only you, Jake, Josh, and Elsie had known. . . And now, your grandparents were in on the secret. It was exactly how you wanted it for the time being. No one else needed to know yet. 

“So, if she’s a girl. . .,” your Grandma started from beside you, causing you to look over and blink a few times in her direction. “Does she have a name?”

“Yes . . .,” you grinned, skin heating and stomach swirling with anticipation under the dubious expression on her finely wrinkled face. 

More than anything, you wanted to turn to Jake and have him say her name. . . Wanted to give him something exciting to share. But you knew you couldn’t.  

And it fucking gutted you. Made you feel like shit. Because it was his news to share, too. . . 

But, with the questioning gazes coming from your Grandmother and Grandfather, you knew you had to be the one to say it. They wanted to know now. And, as much as you wanted Jake to tell them right now, you’d put yourself in this position. 

“Lavender. . . her name is Lavender.”

And, even with your Grandmother’s crushing hug and elated words over all things Lavender, your heart continued to sink. Your Grandmother and Grandfather began debating, right in front of you, which big item they wanted to purchase for the baby first. But. . . you weren’t thinking about that. 

No, all you were concerned with was the man beside you. And you truly couldn’t resist the urge to flick your eyes to Jake amidst the joyous moment. 

But, still, he wasn’t looking anywhere near you. His eyes were still pointed towards the table, his thumbs now twiddling underneath the table, anxiously. 

Everyone flipping shit over the baby, and meanwhile, the  man who helped you make the baby was being left out completely. It was ironic that the moment was happening now. . . considering it had all started with the fact that you couldn’t eat the cranberry sauce this year. 

And the only reason you couldn't was because the baby bouncing in your womb had inherited the distaste from him. 

That was how closely entwined he was with it. She was half of him. She’d already inherited traits of his. Yet, the older people at the table had no clue that he’d had anything to do with it. 

Saying that you were at a loss would be a massive understatement.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

A couple of hours later, saw you in a much better mental headspace. 

Considering you were elbow deep in gifts now, you were able to divert your thoughts from the evening’s earlier events. And, one good thing was, aside from the pure sadness that had transferred from Jake’s heart and directly to yours, the rest of dinner had gone well. 

The topic of conversation had moved away from Lavender quite quickly. You hadn’t been able to stand watching Jake’s heart break right in front of you for much longer. So, after watching him for less than a minute and not knowing what to say to him, you’d decided to change the table’s topic to how good the ham was this year. 

And, with said subject change, Elsie had jumped head first into accepting the compliment. . . Which had gotten things going, once again, in a good direction. 

Truly, everything tasted better this year. It seemed that every year, you and Elsie got the hang of things just a little more than the year previous. 

It hadn’t taken long, then, for Jake and your Grandpa to wind up talking like old buddies, over music. And for the rest of your time at the table, you’d admired Jake with little chance glances. Though, there’d been no glances from him in your direction. 

You couldn’t blame him. And you hadn’t wanted to push him too far by inserting yourself in a conversation about your shared favorite thing (besides Lavender, of course). 

More than likely, he was less than impressed by your method (or lack thereof) of involving him in the Lavender conversation. Still now, you had the feeling that he wasn’t happy about any of it. 

Even as they were still going on about the music, Jake had chosen to not sit close to you. He was sitting on the couch a few feet behind you, ignoring you for your Grandpa — who sat in his chair across the room. 

You’d never witnessed your Grandpa be so open and talkative with someone who wasn’t in the family. . . But it made for a rather harmonious and divine holiday. You could listen to them talk for hours on end and never tire of it. . . Even when you had a bad feeling Jake was upset by your choices. 

And, there hadn’t been any more Lavender kicks to bring any other sense of completeness to your heart. It was as if she wasn’t pleased with you either. You couldn’t blame her or her father.

In the present time, you were, yet again, seeming to go against what she wanted. . . Your back was screaming at you as you sat on your knees, something you had never experienced before pregnancy. The back pain was a real enemy of yours.

You’d done a good job of ignoring it for the majority of the present unwrapping, but now you were shifting, every so often to sit slightly differently. When you were on your second to last gift, you decided criss-cross applesauce would just have to do. You were the last kid unwrapping — per usual. Josh and Elsie had already opened theirs, by age, and Jake hadn’t had a single gift. At which, he’d made sure to emphasize to your worried Grandmother that it was ‘completely okay’ and that he ‘wasn’t worried about it in the slightest.’  

Josh and Elsie’s gifts were the only ones left for you to unwrap at this point. But, even with only two gifts remaining, you couldn’t do any more of your heels pressing into your ass. Sore ass fuckin’ body.

The paper they’d chosen was shiny, just like yours. It caught every glimmer from the tree’s twinkling lights.

And, even if Josh hadn’t labeled his, you didn’t even have to guess whose was whose. 

Elsie’s corners were tucked (more like untucked) in the familiar way they always had been. While Josh’s gift was wrapped exquisitely, Elsie’s was wrapped. . . Not so exquisitely. Then Josh’s, labeled with a ‘to’ and ‘from’ and Elsie’s, with your name, scribbled in the top corner of the present from her. Her script alone was a dead giveaway. 

Josh’s gift came first. Once unwrapped, you found it in a smaller, long, slim box. A shallow box that didn’t give much room for anything too flashy. Josh’s gifts were always very thoughtful. Always drastically different than the last. 

For example, your birthday gift in February, had been the soft, fluffy blanket you loved so much and used every day. And with this box, you knew it would be nowhere near a blanket of any sort. Not even a baby blanket. 

You had no idea what to expect. All you knew was when you opened it to find a gift certificate for a professional maternity shoot, you could safely say that had been the last of your guesses.  

“Oh my god. . . Is this why you were so insistent on me understanding there was nothing wrong with my body the other night?” You asked, raising your brow at him, where he sat behind Elsie. “Needed me to be prepared for your gift?”

His own brow quirked, a smirk fitting to his lips. “Nooo, mama. That was just something you simply needed to know—need to know. This was planned already. Figured you deserved to have some good, professional photos taken while you’re in this magnificent and majestic state.”

While you weren’t exactly sure what to think, you were definitely anxious to see what could happen with a professional shoot. All of the theming possibilities. . . You wondered what all the photographer could do with lavender. . . The flower and the color. You were getting more and more excited by the minute. 

“Well, thank you, Joshy. . . I’m sure I will love them,” you grinned, winking in his direction. 

And while you wanted to turn and show Jake the certificate, you didn’t. One: it would be weird to your grandparents for you to do so. And, two: you didn’t want to piss Jake off any further. You just eyed the certificate to get a closer look at the company and the service. 

Glimmer & Glow Portraits. . . And, from what it looked like, you were getting The ‘Lush’ maternity shoot. . . It sounded pricey. The weighty material of the certificate felt expensive, too. And the swirly, embossed font screamed fancy. But. . . you’d never heard of the place. 

“Glimmer & Glow?” You questioned, holding the certificate up for Josh to see, as if he hadn’t been the one to buy it in the first place. 

“I’ll send you some example photos I saved of her work. She’s magnificent. Talked to a few friends from film school and they hooked me up with one of the best,” he explained, scooting closer to Elsie and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind her. “She’ll set us up with a newborn shoot, too, I’m sure.”

As you watched your sister and Josh mindlessly nuzzle each other’s noses, you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness at the fact that you did not have what they did. You, on the floor. And Jake, dating someone else entirely, while also being a few decently measured feet away from you. . . 

Your fate was a twisted joke. You couldn’t even look behind you to gauge his reaction to the sweet gift, for fear of embarrassing yourself or some shit. Josh and Elsie didn’t even have to worry about that kind of stuff. . . 

Though, instead of being sad, you tried to focus back on the maternity shoot.

“Seriously. . . Thank you, Josh,” you started, eyeing the certificate closer and looking at the specifications for the shoot. So many exclusive features. . . There was no way this had been affordable. “But please tell me this wasn’t too expensive.”

“Sam and Danny pitched in a little,” he assured, dodging the question. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sure their portion was hefty,” Jake remarked sarcastically from behind you, on the couch. 

Hearing his voice had your tummy flip-flopping, made you feel jittery, all on its own. Though, what had you feeling the most overjoyed, was the fact that he was tuning in to what was happening with you. . . He wasn’t completely ignoring you. 

You wanted to look at him so badly, but. . . you refrained. All you could watch was Josh and Elsie in front of you, borderline absent from the room. It was depressing to watch, so you decided you’d move on to Elsie’s gift in the hopes of breaking up their display. 

“Elsie Mabel,” your Grandma tried, from her spot in the red armchair opposite your Grandfather’s chair. “Are you going to pay attention to your sister opening her gift?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Elsie groaned with irritation. 

But, you didn’t look up to see her presumed eye roll as you inspected the box carefully. It was also long, like Josh’s. But it was definitely more narrow, and not quite as flat. . . 

With a toss of your hair over your shoulder, you grinned at her. She was waiting for the question, a smile settled on her lips. “What sort of cry-worthy gift did you fit into this small box?” You quizzed her, genuinely curious. 

You were used to records or picture gifts. . . Sometimes a T-shirt with sentimentality backing it. The gifts from her were never dull — always thought out to the most specific extent. But you couldn’t remember the last time she’d gifted a small box. 

“You’ll see once you open it. . .,” she began with a purse of her full lips. “Don’t make me spoil the surprise yet, jerk.”

“Asshole,” you mumbled, beginning to pick at the paper. Slowly. You wanted to make her suffer in anticipation. 

“Oh, please. Go slower. I’d love that,” she mouthed off from beside you. 

“Girls. . .,” your Grandpa warned from his chair, like you were two hormonal, angsty teenagers all over again.

Ironically, you were still (very much) both angsty and hormonal. . . Just for slightly different reasons this time around. . .

As you snorted at the peculiarity of it all, you began to go a little faster to appease her and your own growing curiosity. Your Grandma provided background noise with conversation — as per usual. 

“Jake, honey. . . I haven’t even thought to ask you— how has it been with y/n’s pregnancy? Around the apartment? I’m sure she’s been a bit of a pill. . .”

Well, shit. Here we go again. . .

You froze your unwrapping, your eyes darting up to eye your Grandma, as inconspicuous as you could. She was right across from you. Not a white curl was out of place as she leaned, with graceful ease, against the arm of her chair to get a better look at Jake behind you. Her legs were stretched out, as they always were when she sat in her chair — and crossed at the ankle. Normally, the familiar sight would give you a sense of calm — but not right now. 

You felt your stomach drop, the present in your hands forgotten. You couldn’t see him, but you didn’t want to see him right now. You were worried. . . All you hoped was that this conversation didn’t lead to where it could potentially lead. . . But you had a bad feeling. . . . . 

Because, again, Grandma and Grandpa still didn’t know who the father was. And you got to win the fuckin’ prize for that wonderful decision.

“Oh, not at all actually. . . She’s been incredible,” he said, his tone lighting up significantly for the first time since he’d gotten to their house. God, you felt so damn bad. He continued easily, blissfully unaware of the torment in your mind. “It’s been nothing. I’ve more than enjoyed helping her. . . For whatever she needs, I try to be there. . .”

Whatever you needed was right. 

He trailed off on that one, and you couldn’t control the blush radiating in your cheeks as you looked down at the partially picked-at gift in your hands. You studied the gold of the paper in your clutch, noting every detail of it. From the scuffs on the paper, to the way the reflective material of the wrap danced with the tree lights. 

“Well, I’m darn glad she has you, honey pie,” Grandma replied, voice warm with sincere gratitude. She cleared her throat as she constantly did. And, again, it was not a comfort. It was nails on a chalkboard. . . Because you knew she was gearing up for more. “Truth of the matter is, you shouldn’t even have to deal with any of it. Considering you’re not the father. . .”

Fuck. You knew it was coming. Your body was tense, your heart thumping in your chest. . . notifying you of emotions you couldn’t show. 

You had a feeling, in the back of your mind, that she’d be the one to say something. It had been inevitable that words would be said, with how much your Grandma talked. 

If you were being completely honest, you were shocked that it had taken so long. It was nearing seven p.m., you’d discussed the goddamned gender, and they were just now mentioning the father.

Still, you were feeling, admittedly, really shitty about them not knowing who he was. Especially right now — like you’d felt earlier, but worse this time. It was completely clear now that they didn’t know. 

Josh’s eyes darted behind you, to where Jake sat. You could tell your friend was trying to be inconspicuous. . . And your grandparents likely wouldn’t notice his shift in attention to Jake as anything alarming. After Josh’s glance in Jake’s direction, you heard the latter twin uncomfortably clearing his throat from behind you. 

Goddammit. He was upset — had to be. And, he had every right to be. It would seem to anyone that you hadn’t said anything to them out of shame or embarrassment for who the father was. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. You just didn’t know how to tell them. 

All you were aware of at this moment was that you were a moron for not telling them sooner. That much was obvious. It was just. . . an uncomfortable subject matter to discuss with your grandparents. So, due to that, you were putting it off as long as you could. 

If you’d known he was coming today, though, you would have thought of a way on the spot to tell them before his arrival. But now. . .? How the fuck would you just throw that into conversation now?

The act of worrying over Jake and any possible internal or emotional reaction he could have to this was taking a decent amount of mental energy. So, you tried to simply zone completely in on the gift you were unwrapping. . . You could do that. . .

But your confidence in that shook when your Grandpa began talking.

“We just hope the guy is helping out a little,” the old man sighed, disappointment painted in the words. “Not leaving it all on the damn roommate,” your Grandpa grunted from his seat. You looked over at him, trying to feign any emotion besides the worry stirring in your gut. You found him adjusting his hands over his stomach before reclining back into his chair. “I mean, we can only trust the guy so much. . . We’ve yet to meet ‘im.”

God. Why were they being like this about it? So obviously hateful about the father? Though, with your Grandma’s next words, it all clicked. 

“The girls lacked a true father in their lives. . . He was only around for a bit before he was gone. . . Left their mother to do all of the work. . .,” she trailed off, the mention of your mother made the room still for a bit. 

Your mom was never mentioned — whether she was their daughter or not, you and Elsie were their girls. And, because they knew she’d caused you both immense pain — enough that they’d had to save you two —, they didn’t speak of her. Hardly ever.

So. . . Why all of this now?

“He was a deadbeat, MJ. . . Just say it,” your Grandpa emphasized the rude (but true) word, venom dripping from his tone as he spit it. “He refused to acknowledge his role as a father, but still stayed around long enough to make two girls he should have been better to. He missed out. . . Plain and simple. We can only hope Lavender’s father won’t make the same foolish decision.”

Your gut was rolling. The urge to vomit, suddenly lurking at the front of your racing mind. The mention of your mom and the reminder of your absent father made you feel even shittier. For a variety of reasons, you were feeling the most uncomfortable in this home than you had for a long time. 

Mostly, you were kicking yourself for not giving Jake the paternal credit he deserved. You couldn’t give two shits about your terrible parents and what they’d done (or hadn’t done) to and for you. All that mattered was Jake’s heart in this matter. And you knew how Jake was as a father. . . Completely opposite of your parents — both of them — in every way.

He was the ideal father. Helper. Co-parent. Already. 

But, only God knew how your grandparents would react to the news of Jake. Would they be angry that he was just now coming to a family gathering after so long? Would they be disappointed in you for not including him better? Would they automatically assume that he didn’t want to be a father and make assumptions before you could defend him? 

At this moment, it was impossible to tell them anything. . . And it was impossible to imagine how it would go if you tried. 

And, you were not going to make this Christmas any more uncomfortable than it already was at this very moment.

The only idea you could come up with was opening Elsie’s gift. You could get the room focused on something else. . . Anything else was better than this. 

Your fingers tore the messy corners of the paper with a much mightier speed. There was intention there that hadn’t been present before. Though, just before you could open the box, you heard Jake’s voice. 

You wanted to show him respect by waiting to hear him out. . . Whatever he wanted to say. . . (Also. . . you were admittedly curious how he would respond to all of that. . .) 

“Yeah. . . I mean, I never saw a guy traipsing through the place,” he started, his voice lacking any real depth. 

The pressure of your teeth against your lip was hardly noticeable as you kept your hand stilled on the lid of the box. At the moment, you didn’t even care if it looked suspicious that you were so focused on the sound of his voice.

He was trying to distance himself from the situation, trying to play aloof. You respected it, but it caught you off guard. What could he say next?

 “Well, there was one — is one — that she studies with every week. . . But there is no way it’s him,” he laughed sardonically under his breath. You imagined he was shaking his head. “Y/n wouldn’t ever lower herself to that standard of man. . .” 

“She has been rather picky through the years,” Elsie chimed in, from your right. You looked over to her, as she sent a grin your way that said ‘I’m right here. Don’t worry.’ “The baby’s daddy has to be an upstanding guy.”

Jake continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. His voice was clipped — you realized this. To anyone unassuming, his tone wasn’t strange. But to you? You knew he was pissed. 

“For all we know, the man was a mistake, Elsie. . . Who knows? A one night thing, perhaps?” 

Oh. . . So he was accusing you of one night stands in front of your grandparents?

“Jacob, she doesn’t venture down those paths. . .,” Josh tried, playing it off as a slight joke. “You know that.”

You were grateful for his quip, nodding towards him, in agreement with his statement. His brow was raised, though, when he caught your eye. . . He was questioning you. . . probably curious, as well, as to why you hadn’t clued your grandparents in on his brother’s role. 

Yes, again. . . you felt like shit about it.

Though, it landed on deaf ears where Jake was concerned. He clicked his tongue, his tone raising a bit to play off of a lighter feel. But you knew better. 

“I don’t know. . .,” he responded, presumably, to Josh. “She doesn’t really talk to me about anything. I found out about the baby by mistake, actually. . . She hasn’t been real big on telling people. Even those she lives with. . .,” he literally tacked on a huff of a chuckle to the end of his words. 

Nice. Hashing that instance out, too, was he? 

“It was shocking to find out, since I’d never seen anyone around. So, I don’t know. . .,” he finished with the curious words, just as he’d started. 

He was at a loss of knowing how to continue, it seemed. And so were you. His words were cutting straight to your heart. All of them. 

And, while he was obviously hurt (you knew him), he was playing it off strangely well. It just meant to you that he was really trying to put on a front for your grandparents. Knowing Jake, he didn’t want to cause any discomfort for them either. 

“Maybe she’s still feeling off about the idea of telling him,” Jake suddenly continued, apparently still having more to say. “Maybe she never will. . . And, yeah, maybe some would say she should give him the chance. . . But. . . that’s up to her.”

Fuck. Was that a backhanded thing? An emphasis on you not giving him a chance to your grandparents? Or were you just overthinking? God only knew. . .

“Oh, absolutely, Jacob,” your Grandma agreed, automatically. She was buying all of it. Jake was covering better than you could have begun to try. He was shielding your ass, even while ripping your heart to pieces with the hurt you’d inflicted on him. “I mean, I have to trust her. After all, I did raise the girl. . . And I believe she’ll do whatever she believes is best for her babygirl.”

“I agree. She’s already a fantastic mother,” Jake replied, a sad smile laced into his raspy timbre (you knew those little indicators in his tone). On your own face, you felt a watery smile form. If your grandparents noticed it, you didn’t care. His words were sweet, regardless. And, his next words caused the smile to become shakier. “I just hope if she does tell him, the guy isn’t a deadbeat. . . Y/n deserves better than that. The baby deserves better than that.”

Your baby, Jake. . . And that baby does have the best of the best. . .

The sniffle that escaped your nose was unstoppable, as was the single tear that trickled down your cheek onto your hand. You had to say something to that. 

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, turning your head to the side to acknowledge him. Though, you were not daring looking at him. You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t completely break down, thus exposing something on accident.

“It’s true, y/n,” he said, tone softer than you deserved for putting him in this situation. You were lying to your grandparents, not giving Jake a chance to be involved, yet again. . . And, still, he was being so kind. “You are an incredible mother to her.”

Goddammit. Your shaky hand that reached up to stop more tears was your savior.

“Well, I’ll be. . . You seem to have just as much to say about this as you do music!” Grandpa laughed, slapping his thighs. The sound made you jump, looking over at the man, from where you’d apparently zoned out on the air between you and Jake. Your Grandpa’s copper skin, freckled with dark specks; his cheeks were pressed with genuine dimples. He was obviously elated with Jake’s responses. “If only you were the father, son. . . We wouldn’t even be stressin’ this!”

“Harold!” Your Grandma scolded him, laughing at him all the same. “You quit that. Don’t want to make the poor kids uncomfortable.”

Oh, yes, Grandma. . . We wouldn’t want that, now would we? The thoughts were instantaneous as you closed your eyes with a shake of your head. 

When you opened your eyes, your attention was visually trained on her. But, your thoughts weren’t concerned with her. No, all you felt was the stare that was heating the skin on the back of your body. Your entire backside was hot with the fact that Jake was right behind you. You felt him. Your mind was swimming with him. Everything he’d said. . . 

And, considering he had said all of that, you hated how very silent he was suddenly being. . . 

. . .Or did you? 

What was better for you at the moment? What would not make your supposed POTS — whatever heart issue — go into overdrive? You knew both reactions would have you overthinking to incredible heights. 

Honestly, you were just glad he hadn’t found a reason to ask Josh if they could leave. . . Or maybe he was just waiting until the presents were all unwrapped to ask his brother if they could dip out. 

Your heartbeat was thumping in your ears at the prospect of him leaving.

Because, one thing you did know: you did not want Jake to be away from you. You’d missed him and needed to keep him close. So, you needed him to stay long enough that you could explain yourself. Had to make sure he understood why your grandparents were still in the dark. . . 

Though, did you even understand why anymore?

a/n: when do you think her grandparents will find out? and, um... how do you think the rest of Christmas will go?... hm... the possibilities are endless, one might say ;)

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

Taglist (continued in reblog):

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles, @jennyraye20

------------------------------

It was the sound of birds that drew you from sleep that morning. They were chirping loudly outside the window on the far wall. You blinked, trying to flush the sleep from your eyes as you took in your surroundings. It was light outside – probably around 8AM if you were to guess, and Josh was still fast asleep next to you. He was on his back, his head turned to face you. His hair a complete mess, and soft snores fell from between his parted lips. You couldn’t help but to stare. He looked beautiful like this, soft and warm in bed. The two of you had moved closer to each other in your sleep – close enough that your thighs were pressed together and you could feel the soft little puffs of air as he breathed slowly on your skin. You felt bad waking him, but there were things to be done and people to be faced  and you definitely didn’t feel like doing it without him. You brushed some of his messy curls from his forehead, reveling in the moment for a moment longer before trying to wake him up. 

“Josh?” You said, placing your hand on his warm chest and shaking him slightly. He grumbled, but didn’t wake. “Josh.” You tried again, louder this time. 

“Wha-?” He cracked his eyes open and you watched as the confusion on his face bled into a soft, sleepy smile. “Oh.” He sighed. “Mornin’.” 

“Good morning, sleepy head.” You giggled, leaning up on your elbow to look at him more closely. He looked far more rested now than he had the night before. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” He sat up too, leaning back on the headboard and yawning – extending his arms above his head and closing his eyes again. You fought to keep your eyes on his face, trying to ignore the tan skin of his chest as the muscles in his stomach rippled as he stretched. “You only woke me up once.” He giggled, cracking his eyes back open to look at you. 

“Did I kick you? People always tell me that I move my legs around a lot.” You said, red painting your cheeks. 

“Yeah, you did.” He laughed. “You shoved your freezing cold feet underneath me.” 

“Sorry.” You said, feeling bad for disturbing his much needed rest. 

“Nah. You’re fine. I run warm, so glad I could be of service.”

The two of you fell into silence and you suddenly felt awkward. Memories from your shower the night before clouded your thoughts. You rose from the bed, suddenly embarrassed to be next to him – like he could read your mind and see the thoughts you’d had about him. 

“Do you want to get ready first? I hogged the shower last night, so you can go this time.”

You walked to the foot of the bed to dig around in your suitcase, not looking for anything in particular but hoping to hide the blush that you could feel spreading across your face. 

“Sure. I need to shower and brush my teeth. I feel gross.”

He rose from the bed and you kept your eyes trained on the floor, not daring to look up at him – no matter how much you wanted to. He pulled what you assumed was his outfit for the day out of his bag and exited the room, turning the corner towards the bathroom. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and shook your head. Get a grip, y/n.

Not bothering to change yet, you made your way down to the kitchen in search of some caffeine to knock the fog from your brain. You heard the shower start as you descended the stairs and tried not to imagine the sight that was waiting behind the bathroom door. 

You walked into the kitchen to see your dad sitting at the table, coffee cup in hand, looking out at the backyard. He smiled as you entered and made your way over to the coffee pot. 

“Good morning, y/n. Your mom’s still asleep.”

“Morning, Dad.” You said, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and pouring yourself a healthy amount. You took a seat in the chair across from him. He smiled and there was a wetness to his eyes as he looked at you. 

“What?” You asked, taking a sip and closing your eyes at the warm liquid. 

He shook his head and smiled. 

“I just missed you, that’s all.” 

“I missed you too, Dad.” You sighed. “I’m sorry I’ve been so terrible at keeping in contact, I just…” You trailed off. You didn’t really know what to say. 

“I know. You and your mom have got some issues. I understand. She isn’t always the easiest to be around.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“You could say that again.” 

“In her mind, she thinks she’s helping you. She just wants what’s best for you.” 

“Well,” you said in an angry huff. “I’m an adult, and all she does is belittle me any chance she gets. That’s not what I would consider doing what’s best for me.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m sorry.” He looks back out the window. “So.” He says after a beat of silence, mischief glinting in his eyes, “Josh, huh?” 

You smiled shyly and looked down. 

“Yeah. Josh.”

“He seems like a great guy.” 

“He is.” You say honestly. “He’s the best.” 

“He’s sure in love with you. That’s more than enough for me.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked up sharply at him. 

“What?”

Your dad looked at you in confusion and you smoothed over your shocked expression the best you could. 

“We haven’t really gotten to that point yet.” You clarified, praying that he bought the lie. He smiled, and you mentally slapped yourself for reacting like that. 

“Well, the way he looks at you,” He shook his head and smiled, “He’s definitely in love. He wouldn’t stop talking about you last night.”

You blushed and looked down. You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to believe it – believe that Josh might be in love with you too. But you know better. He’s just selling the part – he’s an actor at heart, afterall. He’s just really good at leaning into the role. You should be thankful for him making this whole charade seem believable. You tried to come up with something to say in response but thankfully, Josh broke the weird silence – saving you from having to come up with something. 

“Good morning!” He exclaimed cheerily, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing another pair of khaki pants – these ones a shade darker than the ones from yesterday, coupled with a deep green button up top. White mala beads completed the look, along with his usual silver hoop earrings and an ear cuff. You couldn’t help your jaw falling open slightly, momentarily speechless by his appearance. You tore your eyes away from him only to be met by the amused eyes of your father as he watched your reaction. You blushed and looked down. 

“Good morning, Josh. I hope you slept well.” Your dad said, grinning from ear to ear in amusement at your obvious embarrassment. 

“I did! Thank you!” Josh said, coming to lean against the back of your chair. He reached down and took your coffee cup from your hands and took a large sip. 

“Hey!” You said, making grabby hands for it back. Josh grinned at you and took another sip. 

“Payback for your corpse feet waking me up last night.” He said with a smile, earning a laugh from your dad. 

“She’s always run cold.” He said, taking another drink from his own cup. The two of them laughed and you rose from the table, putting your cup down loudly. 

“If you two are finished,” you said in mock annoyance, “I’m going to go get ready.”

Josh giggled. 

“Sorry, babe.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze. You just shook your head and gave him a small smile before walking out of the kitchen to go back upstairs. 

Babe. 

You really wished he would stop calling you that. 

Today, all you had to do was attend a luncheon with your mom. All the women in your family would be meeting at some little restaurant downtown around 11:30 for a little pre-wedding gathering. Sadly, you knew it was going to be awkward. You hadn’t spoken to anyone in your family other than your father and your aunt Carol within the last few years, so you knew that it was going to be slow going and weird. You wished you could convince your mom to let you bring Josh along, but you knew she would say no. It was supposed to be a girls only type of thing. 

You sighed. 

Just one lunch and then you were free to spend the rest of the afternoon with Josh – away from everyone else. He’d asked you to show him around your hometown since he’d never been before. 

You pulled a flowy sundress from your suitcase for your outfit for the day. It was supposed to be warm, so you slipped on a pair of strappy sandals as well. You walked over to the vanity in the corner of the room and stared at yourself in the mirror – trying to decide what you wanted to do with your makeup. With it being so hot, you decided to forego any foundation and instead decided on a light coating of mascara and a little highlighter on your cheek bones. You styled your hair the way you usually did and gave yourself another once over in the mirror. Not half bad, you thought. Finally, you applied just a little bit of lipstick to complete the look. You could hear your mom speaking downstairs so you figured you should probably make your way back down. 

You enter the kitchen to see Josh had taken your earlier seat across from your dad and your mom was already dressed and moving around in the kitchen. Josh was in the middle of animatedly telling your dad something when he looked up to you as you re entered. He stopped, mouth open, and stared for a moment. You smoothed your hands over your dress, suddenly self conscious. You didn’t often wear dresses, and this was one he probably had never seen before. It was a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d recently been trying to branch out in your wardrobe choices. 

“Y/n,” Josh said, standing suddenly, “you look… really nice.” He finally said, and it seemed like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. 

“Oh, really?” You asked, looking down at yourself and smiling. “Thank you! I’ve never worn it before.”

“Yeah. It’s, um. It looks good. On you.” He said and it was almost like it was painful for him to get the words out. 

You stared at each other for a moment. It was weird. Your mom cleared her throat and for once, you were thankful for her presence. 

“So, y/n, I figured you and I could leave here a little early and go pick up some things?” 

“Yeah! That sounds good!” You said, before turning to look at your dad and Josh. “What about you two? What are you guys going to do while we’re gone?”

“We’ll find something to do, I’m sure.” Your dad said, walking over to where you and Josh were still standing awkwardly. He clapped Josh on the shoulder. “We’ll try and stay out of trouble.” 

You laughed, and the tension from earlier slowly bled away. Bless your dad. 

“Yep! We’ll be just fine here.” Josh agreed, smiling at you. “You two have fun!” 

—

The two of you did not in fact have fun. Well, your mom did – she lived for outings like those. But you on the other hand despised them greatly. You’d sat mostly silent, wishing that the floor would swallow you whole in order to avoid the inevitable awkward questions about what you’d been doing and why you hadn’t been in touch with anyone since the last time you’d visited home. Your answer had been the same to each family member who asked – merely stating that work was very busy and that you’d just lost track of keeping in touch. Responses to your claim had been with tight smiles and doubtful eyes, and you’d promised each of them that you’d do better at keeping in touch. You’re  pretty sure they all saw it for the lie it was. 

By the time you climbed back into the car to ride home you were drained from all the socializing– and not to mention your mother had been frosty with you the entire time.

“Something you want to say, Mom?” You’d asked as the minutes of silence ticked by as she drove. 

“Hm?” She’d asked, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been silent for about 15 minutes now… figured there might be a reason.” You snarked, crossing your arms and looking out the window. Was it petulant and childish? Yes, you knew it was. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, even as your fathers words from earlier that morning drifted through your thoughts. 

“Oh no, nothing.” She said simply. 

You waited a beat, saying nothing. 

“I just wish you would actually talk to your family, y/n.” She continued. There it is. “It’s embarrassing for me. You’ve always been so selfish with stuff like this.”

“Maybe I would reach out more if you all weren’t so judgemental of me and my life all the damn time, Mom. Ever think of that?” 

“We just want what’s best for you. Is it a crime to be concerned for you?” Her tone was bleeding into bitchy but you didn’t have the energy to match it. 

“Whatever. I’ve got my life under control. I don’t need all this.” You said simply, still watching the trees breeze by outside the car window. 

“Sure you don’t.” 

It was a bait – one she used often. She’d say something like that to get a rise out of you, to provoke you into yelling so then she could play the victim later on. You didn’t give her the satisfaction and the rest of the drive went by silently. 

You arrived home and you practically sprinted inside, desperate to be rid of the awkward tension. Your father and Josh were sitting together in the living room – your dad in his usual chair and Josh sitting on the sofa. They were watching M*A*S*H reruns and you smiled at the sight of them. 

“Hey!” Your dad said upon seeing you walk into the room. 

“How’d it go?” Josh asked, rising from his place on the sofa to come and greet you. 

“About as well as to be expected…” You said, lacing your fingers with Josh’s as he extended his hand towards yours in a frustratingly natural manner. “Awkward as hell.” 

“I’m sorry.” Your dad said honestly, giving you a sympathetic smile. “We’ve just been relaxing here. Watching TV, shooting the shit. Josh said you promised to take him out tonight?” 

You nodded. 

“Yeah. Figured I’d show him around since I have the chance.” 

You looked at Josh and he gave you a smile so sweet it physically hurt to look at. 

“I’m ready to go whenever you are. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to relax for a while first.”

Just as he spoke the words, your mom entered the living room. She narrowed her eyes at you as she breezed past. 

“Nope!” You exclaimed, tugging him towards the front door. “Let’s go. See you guys!”

You heard your dad call a goodbye as you and Josh walked out the door. You let it slam closed behind you. 

“Jesus Christ.” You said, dropping his hand from yours. 

“That much fun, huh?” Josh asked, rounding towards the driver side door of his car. 

“You wouldn’t believe.” You collapsed into the passenger seat as Josh climbed in. 

“Where to, m’lady?” 

You giggled. 

“I was thinking we could just drive around a bit? I can just point out the interesting stuff when I see it.”

He smiled. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Your home town wasn’t the largest, so most areas you were still able to recognize and navigate easily – despite the many years that had passed since you were last here. You took the opportunity to point out as many things as you could to him as you drove. You pointed to your old middle and high school, to your childhood best friend’s house, and all of the other little places that held some sort of meaning to you. Josh was mostly silent, listening intently to your words and stories, occasionally interjecting responses or laughing as you told a funny story from when you were younger. Before you knew it, the sun was beginning to set and your voice was tired from speaking so much. 

“Here, turn right up at this light.” You pointed, interrupting your own story. Josh obliged and you pointed towards a little playground nestled on the corner of two neighborhood streets. “Park here. This used to be where me and my friends would come and hang out.”

Josh parked the car close to the curb and the two of you tumbled out. 

“This way!” You called, happily skipping over to the old swing set that you used to frequent so much when you were a kid. Josh chuckled and followed, and the two of you took a seat on the swings. There was comfortable silence between the two of you for a long moment as you both watched the orange sun set. 

“Thanks for listening to me ramble for so long.” You said with a sheepish grin, a blush overtaking your cheeks. 

“Thanks for telling me so much.” Josh answered honestly, giving you a smile. “I love hearing about your childhood. You’ve never really talked about it all that much before. I like getting to know this part of you.” His words were genuine, and you couldn’t help the flutter that your heart did at his words. 

“Never really felt the need to – especially with my relationship with my mom being what it is. It just brings up unwanted memories.” 

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.” And he really couldn’t. His relationship with his own mother was one that you couldn’t help but envy. They were so close – a closeness that you could only dream of having with your family. You’d only met Karen and Kelly a few times, but you had quickly been able to see that the love that they had for their children was immense. 

“It is what it is, I suppose. I’m just glad you’re here with me. This would be a lot more miserable if you weren’t here.” The words tumbled from your lips before you could really stop them. Though they were the truth, you felt embarrassed saying them out loud. A sentence like that coming from Josh was normal; but from you – given how much more closed off about your emotions you tended to be compared to him, the words sounded more intimate than you meant them to be. 

“It’s my pleasure, y/n. You’re an amazing fake girlfriend to have.” He threw his head back as he laughed loudly, and you did your best to push down the sting of his words. 

“Aww thank you, babe.” You said, finally huffing out your own laugh – small and unsure as it was. “Thanks again for agreeing to do all this for me.”

Josh just smiled and shook his head. 

“Really y/n,” he said, voice becoming a little more serious, “it’s no problem coming here with you. It’s my pleasure to help you out. Besides, by the day after tomorrow we’ll all be home and things will be back to normal.”

It was like he’d dumped a bucket of ice cold water over your head. Back to normal. The phrase cut into you sharply, dampening the good mood that had settled over you. None of this was real: the pet names, the small smiles – none of it. You knew  that his words had meant to be a comfort, but they’d done the exact opposite. They'd simply reminded you that Josh Kiszka was not (and would never) love you the way you loved him.You’d come to accept that a long time ago, but you’d allowed this trip to cloud your mind with false hope and you needed to get a grip.

“Well,” you said, rising abruptly from your swing, “I guess we should head back. Are you hungry? I’m still full from lunch but if you’re hungry we can stop and get you something. My parents have probably already eaten.”

Josh’s eyes widened momentarily at your sudden change in mood but he didn’t let his shock last long before he smoothed over his expression. 

“Nah, I’m okay. Your dad and I had a late lunch and I ate way more than I should have.” You nodded once before making your way back to Josh’s car. He followed behind you, not saying a word. 

The ride home was silent – different from the silence that usually fell between the two of you. This one was awkward and tense, and you were overjoyed when the car pulled into the driveway. The two of you entered, still silent, to see your parents cleaning up from dinner. 

“Welcome back, lovebirds!” Your dad exclaimed happily. You had to fight back the wince that wanted to overtake you at his words. 

“I just put the leftovers in the fridge if you two want anything.” Your mom says, probably in an attempt to move on from your earlier argument. 

“I’m okay for right now.” Josh said, giving them a lopsided grin. “But thank you.” 

“I’m too tired to eat. I think I’m gonna turn in.”

You didn’t wait for a response before you turned on your heel and ascended the stairs. You entered your old bedroom, grabbing your pajamas, and darting quickly into the bathroom. You didn’t feel like facing Josh. 

As soon as you entered the bathroom, shame and anger filled you as you remembered what you had done the night before when you’d allowed yourself to come apart with Josh’s name on your lips. You shook your head and turned the water on. 

By the time you made it back into your room, the lights were off and Josh was asleep. His back was turned away from your side of the bed. You sighed and climbed in next to him, shutting your eyes and trying to shut off your swirling thoughts. 

—

You were awoken by something, you just didn’t know what. It was still dark, the moon casting pale beams of light through the open window. You shook your head, trying to clear the cobwebs before looking around to try and figure out what had woken you up. Josh had turned onto his stomach in the night, and he’d kicked the covers down to pool around his thighs. He was wearing nothing but boxers and a plain white t-shirt. It was silent and you furrowed your brows in confusion. 

And that’s when you heard it. 

A tiny, breathy whine fell from Josh’s lips. He was still asleep, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut as his chest rose and fell. You stared at him in the dark, just watching. 

He did it again, this time a little louder and your eyes widened at the sound. There was no mistaking the noise this time. He was dreaming – a particularly nice dream if the noises falling from him were anything to go by. 

He was silent for a long moment and you felt bad for staring; for watching him like this without his knowledge. You were going to lay back down and pretend nothing had happened when a tiny little shift of his hips caught your attention. He sighed again as he delicately rocked his hips into the bed, and you felt dizzy as your core flooded with heat. This was so so wrong to watch him, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he rutted into the bed next to you. His hips picked up speed slightly and he moaned again, this time seemingly loud enough to wake himself from his sleep. 

His eyes snapped open and immediately locked onto you, staring at him in the dark. Panic overtook you as you realized there was no way you could play off what had just happened. 

“Jesus, I’m so fucking sorry.” Josh said, voice still rough with sleep and husky from the remnants of his dream. “My God, this is so embarrassing.” He turned over onto his back, drawing his body away from you as he shook his head. Even in the dark you could see the flush overtaking his cheeks. 

“Do you want me to help?” His eyes snapped to yours and your own eyes widened. You had no idea where your confidence had come from, but it dropped from you just as quickly as it had arisen. “I mean- that looks… uncomfortable.” His eyes tracked your gaze to the noticeable bulge in his boxers. “I could help.” You reiterated, adrenaline coursing through your entire body and wetness flooding to your core at just the thought. 

“Do you… want to?” He asked you, voice quiet and unsure. 

“Yes. If you’d like.” You breathed out. 

The two of you stared at each other in the dark for a long moment – so long you were afraid he was thinking about how he could run away without hurting your feelings. You opened your mouth to apologize but he silenced you with a single nod. 

“Sure.” He said. Your jaw dropped. “If you want.”

“Okay.” Your voice was hardly more than a whisper. 

You sat up, settling your weight on your knees before you reached over to dip your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. You flicked your eyes to meet his, giving him one more chance to change his mind and tell you to get lost. He didn’t. He was staring at you with dark eyes and he only nodded to you again. 

Steeling yourself, you slid his boxers down, just low enough to allow his cock to spring free. He was still hard, and the head was shiny with precum in the moonlight. Your mouth watered at the sight of him. You should have known that a man as pretty as Josh would have a pretty cock, too. You wrap your fingers around his length, smearing the precum over him to make him slick before you pump him slowly. 

You watch in stunned silence as he throws his head back, exposing the hollow of his throat and you want desperately to lick the sweat that’s gathered there. He bites his lip as you pick up your speed, trying to hold in the moan that wants to tumble from his lips. Seemingly on its own accord, your other hand slips into your own panties, and you swipe the pad of your finger through the wetness that’s gathered in your folds. You begin to circle your clit in time with each pump of your other hand on his cock and a quiet moan slips past your lips. 

Josh’s eyes snap open to look at you when he hears it, and his mouth parts and his breathing picks up even more when he sees what you’re doing. 

“Jesus, y/n.” He whimpers, as you pull your hand off him. You crawl over to settle in between his legs, your hand never once leaving your own heat, before you stare up at him through your lashes. Your mouth hovers just above his head and you wait. 

“Do it, baby.” He whispers, and you swallow him down. 

He groans and your cunt pulses at the sound, need coursing through you at the sight and sound of his pleasure. He’s big, and his tip nudges the back of your throat mercilessly as you suck him off, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks.

“Oh, sweet Jesus.” He all but whines as you blow him, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening as you continue to circle your clit. 

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.” Josh utters, eyes screwed shut and face contorted in pleasure. He tries to pull himself from your mouth but you stop him, using your free hand to press his hips into the bed with your forearm. You need to taste his release so badly you could scream. 

“Give it to me, Josh.” You whisper, releasing his cock from your mouth with a lewd ‘pop.’ He stares, slack jawed and wide eyed at you. “Let me taste you.” 

He nods and you descend back onto his dick, taking him as deep as you possibly can. Tears leak from your eyes and your jaw aches around him but you don’t stop. Moans and expletives fall from his lips like prayers as you lead him closer and closer to his release, and your finger circles relentlessly on your clit. It doesn’t take long before you feel his cock twitch on your tongue. 

“Fuck.” He whines and that’s all the warning you get before his release fills your mouth. You swallow him down, drawing a groan from him as you milk him for all he’s got. The sight of his face flushed with pleasure the noises falling from his pretty lips sends you hurtling into your own climax. You moan around his softening cock and your eyes screw shut as you work yourself through it. 

When you finally come down from your high, you release his length from your mouth and fall backwards, landing heavily on your back next to him. 

“Jesus.” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” He looks utterly fucked out and you know you probably look the exact same. 

Tiredness overtakes the both of you as Josh pulls the covers back up and over you both. You want so badly to reach over and hold him close to you, but his exhaustion takes him over before you can work up the courage to ask. His soft snores signal that he’s out and you’re shocked to find yourself slipping back into the arms of sleep as well – the sound of his breathing lulling you back into slumber. 

—

The next time you wake up, it’s light outside and Josh is already awake – this time, he’s the one staring at you. You sit up, the events from the night before flashing through your mind. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

“Josh, about last night-” You begin to say, but he interrupts you quickly. 

“It was a mistake.” His words were sharp – not necessarily unkind, but blunt in their nature. No sugarcoating over them to soften the blow of his rejection. 

You can feel your bottom lip wobble as you fight to hold back any signs of hurt, unwilling to show him that it had been anything but a mistake for you. 

“Yeah. You’re right.”  You finally answered, your voice sounding surprisingly steady for how upset you were on the inside. 

“I’m sorry for letting us get carried away.” He said, and he really did sound like he was sorry. That hurt even more. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Sorry you don’t feel the same. Sorry it was a mistake for you. Sorry it wasn’t a mistake for me – all the things you want to say, but you don’t. You just stare at your hands, willing the tears starting to brim in your eyes to go the fuck away. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” He says, extracting himself from the bed and walking over to his suitcase to pull out his clothes. You don’t answer and he exits the room quickly. 

You sit there, staring at nothing, for what feels like forever. It feels as if your entire life has just imploded before your eyes. And in a sense, it has. You already know that your friendship with Josh is never going to recover from this. You can’t just give your best friend a blow job in the middle of the night and then act like it never happened. Tears make their way slowly down your cheeks but you don’t make a sound – you don’t have the energy to. You wish suddenly that you could go back in time; go back and take back your bold words from the night before, take back asking Josh to pose as your boyfriend, take back the stupid phone call that started this whole mess. You almost wish you could take back ever meeting Josh – because there’s no world in which you meet Josh and don’t fall in love with him. You’d rather the two of you had never met. Anything was better than this.  

The thought of having to show up at that god awful wedding later today makes you sick to your stomach – having to hold hands and keep up the ruse that you’re together when in reality, you’d just shattered your friendship with him. It’s all too much. You hang your head, tears still streaming down your face. There’s no coming back from this. 

-----

Taglist:

@takenbythemadness

@aintthatapity

@kiarraaldarondo

@gvfmelbourne

@rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

@hi-hi-hello11

@gretnavannfleet

@radmads-gvf

Jake One Shots

Edible @gretavangroupie

Heartbreak Hot Seat @builtbybrokenbells

Gemini @garbagevanfleet

Cabin In The Woods @gretavanlace

Decorum and Refinement @spark-my-nature

Call And Response @gretavanlace

Smile Pretty @devilat-thedoor

Smile Pretty 2 @devilat-thedoor

Lavender Shampoo @jakescaravel

Classical Conditioning @tripthedharmadivine

Last Minute Changes - Jake Kiszka’s Version @sparrowofthedawnsworld

Roommates @daisyful-gvf

Benchwarmer @broken--stardust

As You Wish @jake-kiszkas-smirk

Like A Virgin @moonlightisdancing

Crimson Lace @meetingthestarcatchers

Love Me Like You Don't @alwaysonthemend

Scarlet Flavor @jakescaravel

Led Zeppelin @gretavanfleetposts

In Your Fantasy @leviathanlazarus

Breña @gretavanlace

Golden Suprise @gretavanbear

Whole New Way @miradors

Backstage Baby @stardustvanfleet

Honeymooners @tripthelightfandomtastic

Rain @fleet-of-fiction

After Midnight @joshsindigostreak

Friendsgiving @concreteburialplot

Jake Series'

Valor @gretavangroupie

Lazarus @garbagevanfleet

Kismet @gretavangroupie

Vigilance @gretavangroupie

The Ripe and The Ruin @gretavangroupie

Sugar @gretavanlace

Cream & Sugar @sacredthefran

Bluebird Lane @gretavangroupie

Skin Deep @streamingcolors-gvf

Poppins @gretavanlace

Behind Closed Doors @anthemofgvf

Josh One Shots

Show & Tell @its-interesting-van-kleep

Valtava @gretavanlace

Just Friends @sirjaketkiszka

Dance For Me @gretavanfleetposts

Feather Light @tripthelightfandomtastic

Double The Trouble @earthlysorrows

Danny One Shots

Summer Nights @watchyoubloom

Time Of The Season @devilathedoor

Sammy One Shots

Exposure @gretavangroupie

Carried Away @ageofnations

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / minors dni / typos, probably / cussing / unrequited love (but not really) / p in v sex / unprotected sex / fluffy smut / jake being amazing

Word Count: 7k

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There was really no one to blame but yourself. 

No matter how many times you had tried to logic your way out of this being your fault… well. You always came back to the same conclusion. This was entirely, irrevocably, and utterly your own fault. 

Holidays have never been the easiest for you – seasonal depression coupled with a healthy dose of loneliness has never been a mixture that makes the Christmas season particularly enjoyable for you. Not that you weren’t learning to be okay with being single; not at all. In fact, you would much rather be alone than settle for someone who doesn’t treat you right. But something about the holidays just seems to make all that hurt and loneliness more powerful than usual. 

Christmas day had been alright – you had spent the day with a few loved ones and exchanged gifts and shared a meal. Looking forward to seeing the people closest to you had been what got you through the dreary, cold days leading up to Christmas. But now that the day has come and gone, now that you’re stuck in the weird in-between of Christmas and New Years, you find yourself particularly lonely. 

So, when you had received an invite to a company New Years party, you had been less than thrilled at the thought of spending another New Year with nosy coworkers who cared more about getting to know someone for gossip than actual friendship. You were even less thrilled at the prospect of yet another New Year of being single. In fact, you’d been quite content with skipping the event entirely, but you’d made the mistake of mentioning the affair to your best friend Jake, who had been helping you with some home renovations the week before. He had promptly scolded you for being a spoilsport, insisting on an alternative way to spend your New Years Eve. 

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“I don’t want to go alone.” 

Jake grins and rolls his eyes playfully at you. “So dramatic. Just come with me to my family’s get together, then.”

“Oh Lord no.” You exclaim. “That’s even worse! I don’t know most of them, other than Josh. I can’t just invite myself to a family function.”

“You’re not.” Jake quips, plopping down beside you on your sofa. “I’m inviting you to my family function.”

“Absolutely not.” 

Jake looks at you unimpressed, narrowing his eyes the way he does when he’s thinking. “There’s only one alternative, then.” Jake continues to stare, waiting for you to ask what he means. When you don’t give him the bait he’s looking for, he continues on anyway. “I come to your office party with you, then.”

“How is that the only alternative? I do my thing, you do your family thing. That’s the alternative.” You can feel yourself growing frustrated the longer this argument goes on – Jake may mean well, but he’s like a dog with a bone sometimes and just doesn’t seem to know when to quit… and right now seems to be one of those times. You don’t want to go to someone’s else’s family function; you don’t want to go to a stupid office party – let alone by yourself; you would much rather just be alone at home. 

“I can’t let you spend New Year's Eve at a shitty office party or alone here. That would make me the worst best friend ever.” Jake leans backwards onto the sofa, dramatically tossing his head back to rest on the back of the couch. “Besides, it’s in the contract.”

“Jake, nothing is in that damn contract. You made it up.” The Best Friends Contract was something that he had announced was in existence a few years ago in order to explain away his reasoning for always paying for your food when the two of you hang out. “The Best Friend Contract states that a good best friend must never turn down being paid for when the other is more than happy to cover.” You’d called bullshit on the first utterance but it has unfortunately stuck as his go to excuse for anything he did that you tried to argue with him about. 

“Don’t you disrespect the contract like that.” He reaches up and pinches a bit of your hair at the ends with his fingers and tugs a little. “It clearly states in the contract that a best friend never lets the other spend New Years Eve alone.” He tugs again just to be a little shit and then grins widely at you. “I don’t make the rules, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you literally do.” You swat his hand away from your hair, fighting back a smile of your own. “And besides, even if you did show up at my office party, it would end up being awkward.”

“Elaborate.” He demands, reaching up to mess with your hair again and then pouting when you smack his hand away for the second time.

“You know how nosy my coworkers are. They’ll all be asking all night if we’re dating and I’ll have to explain: no, he’s not my boyfriend; no, he’s just my best friend; and yes, he’s a guy and yes, he’s still my best friend.” You huff dramatically – you’ve dealt with it all before with him at parties or events where people can’t seem to understand that a man and a woman can be best friends without it meaning more. “It’ll be awkward and annoying for everyone involved, Jake.”

“So we pretend.” He replies simply, shrugging as if it’s an obvious conclusion. “Just say we’re together and no one will be the wiser.”

“Jake… how on Earth do you think that will be less awkward?”

He just shrugs in answer, still grinning like an idiot at you. “It’ll be fun. Like a game.” He leans in closer, his grin turning a little wicked. “Unless you're scared.” 

“Of what?” You demand, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing back flips when he looks at you like that. 

“Dunno.” He leans back, looking completely innocent again. “You tell me.”

You sigh, knowing that he’s already won. “Fine.” 

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The thing is, you don’t know his siblings or the rest of his extended family very well, but you know how much Jake loves them. So why on Earth would he rather come with you as a fake boyfriend to a shitty office party instead of spending time with them? You’d asked him as much… demanded, even, why on Earth he wanted to skip spending the night with his family. He just smiled at you like he’d been doing for the entire stupid argument and said it was in the contract – a best friend never lets the other spend New Years Eve alone, even if it means pretending to be a significant other.  

So here you are, waiting anxiously for him to come pick you up. You had chosen a long dress for the occasion – just a little too tight in certain areas that you normally don’t like to draw attention to, but it was a little too late now to find something else. You’d styled your hair the way you normally do, though you had added a little more makeup than usual and a glossy lip to top off the look. You’ve been ready for the better part of an hour now since you always tend to start getting ready early when you’re nervous. 

I have no reason to be nervous, you keep telling yourself, it’s just Jake. But that last part is exactly why you’re nervous. You still have no idea why he’s so willing to do this for you – why he’s content with being a fake date at an office party where he doesn’t know anyone instead of spending a fun night partying with his family. Not to mention, the thought alone of Jake in a nice suit makes butterflies erupt in your tummy.

What if he’s only doing this out of pity? What if he’s miserable the whole time? What if it’s awkward pretending to be together and he regrets ever agreeing to this? What if-

The questions swirl through your mind at such a constant rate that you’re quite sure you may vomit from the nerves before he ever even arrives. You’re moments from texting him and calling off the whole thing but then comes the knock at the door – and you know that he’s the only person it could be. 

Steeling yourself and resolving to act like a big girl, you rise up from your seat on the sofa and open the front door. 

“Wow.” The word slips from your lips without your brain being able to fully process, yet you can’t think of anything else to say. Jake has always been attractive – going from being a cute young man when you first met to the handsome one standing before you right now. The all black outfit suits him; black always does. His hair is freshly washed, the ends delicately curling against his shoulders. His usual necklaces adorn his neck, with a few extra bracelets and rings added to the ones he usually wears. 

Chocolate eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles, his head tilting just barely to the left as he regards you. “I hope that was a good “wow” and not a bad one.” He glances down, a tiny hint of shyness to the action. 

“No. It-” you clear your throat, “it was a good “wow.” You look very handsome.” You’re quick to recover, mentally shaking yourself. 

“And you look wonderful.” His eyes give you a once over, making you feel both emboldened by your choice of dress and slightly embarrassed. “I’m a very lucky man to have you as my fake boyfriend.”

The joke breaks the slight awkwardness of the moment and you laugh softly. He’s always been good at that. 

“And I’m a lucky fake girlfriend.” You grab your bag from the hook on the wall and step out into the chilly night with him. He hovers beside you as you lock your door and then the two of you walk side by side to the warmth of his waiting car. 

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Your pulse is racing as you and Jake enter your office building. It only gets faster still as the two of you get onto the elevator. 

“Nervous?” Jake asks as you press the button for the correct floor. The doors closing feels like a curtain call of doom.

“A little.” You shrug, but Jake’s concern for you is written all over his face. “Some of my coworkers can just be a lot.” You explain, hoping that will be enough explanation for him and he won’t go digging further into your other fears for tonight. 

“I’ll just use my natural boyish charm.” Jake grins and loops his arm with yours as the elevator dings. 

“Boyish? You’re almost 30.”

Jake gasps dramatically and then tugs you off the elevator and towards the party that’s already been started for a good 30 minutes. One of the TVs on the wall has been turned to a countdown for midnight. You recognize many of the guests, though there are several that you don’t – likely other people’s plus ones that you’re sure they’ve been dying to show off. Though there’s one woman that stands out… the one woman that you absolutely didn’t want to see tonight. 

“Who are you death staring at?” Jake murmurs into your ear, startling you a little. When did he move that close? 

“Her name’s Jess. And she’s a stuck up bitch.”

“Woah.” Jake's eyes widen at your harsh words and looks back towards her, his eyes giving her a once over. “She’s definitely, um..” Her dress is skin tight and short, barely covering anything. Big hair and high stilettos makes it so that she sticks out like a sore thumb. “She’s definitely got a style.” 

You giggle a little at his attempt to be nice – in all the time you’ve known him, you can’t think of a single time when he’s ever insulted a woman’s appearance or choice of dress, even when it’s totally warranted. 

“Aaand she’s walking over here.” Jake supplies, making you scowl at him. 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ noticed.” You say lowly, clenching your teeth in what you hope is a convincing smile. “Jess! Hey.”

She smiles widely at you, flashing her overly white teeth. “Y/n! I didn’t think you would show tonight.” Her perfume is so strong you’re pretty sure you’re already getting a headache by the time she makes it to you. You begin to explain that Jake wanted to come but she’s quick to interrupt you as soon as her eyes land on him. 

“Well it’s certainly lovely to meet you.” She purrs, stepping closer to him and practically turning her back to you. “I’m Jess.” She extends her hand, which Jake shakes just barely before dropping it again. 

“Jake. It’s nice to meet you as well.” His smile is tight, mostly forced, but she either doesn’t care or is too stupid to notice. 

“Now tell me how you managed to snag this handsome young man, Y/n?”

Already your heart rate is starting to pick up, anger and hurt at her apparent disbelief that you’re dating him making you want to reach up and rip her obnoxious strip lashes off her eyes. Even though it’s the truth, your brain not-so-kindly reminds you. 

“Well, I-”

“We’ve been friends for years.” Jake interrupts you, taking a side step closer to hook his arm with yours once again. “Naturally, I fell in love with her the very first time I met her.” Those chocolate eyes find yours, a comforting warmth in them that instantly makes you feel better. “But I only recently managed to work up the nerve to ask her out.” 

His tone is sickeningly love-struck, so believable that you have to stop yourself from openly staring at him in shock as he speaks. You find yourself nodding along, more than happy to play along that you’re both in love with each other. 

“Of course, I had feelings for him the whole time, too.” You squeeze his arm a little. “Just never thought he felt the same. Turns out we were both oblivious.”

“But here we are.” Jake turns to look at you again as he speaks, those warm eyes making you feel all melty and gooey inside. 

“Here we are.”

Jess, for her part, manages to seem utterly crestfallen as the two of you speak, as if she had known Jake for years and been in love with him, too. Eventually, she turns her nose up in the way she does when she feels offended and plasters a saccharine smile onto her painted lips. “Well how sweet is that?” She asks, though gives no time for either of you to speak further. “Well, there’s still plenty of people for me to see tonight so you two enjoy yourselves.”

She’s gone before either of you can reply, disappearing and leaving nothing but the smell of her sweet perfume. 

“See?” Jake asks, tugging you towards the refreshments. “Not so bad.”

“Sure.” You scowl but gratefully take the cup of punch that he offers you. 

– 

A few other coworkers come to say hello, with the two of you giving the same performance each time you get asked how the two of you met. It gets easier, and each time it happens you can almost picture the story that the two of you weave – Jake shyly admitting he’s been in love with you, you declaring you love him back, you kiss, happily ever after, blah blah blah. It’s too easy to imagine and you find yourself wishing that you were anywhere but here with anyone but him. 

Jake glances towards you, probably noticing that you’re standing there as stiff as a board, trying to look romantic and in-love while sipping punch like it’s a secret weapon against the sheer discomfort you’re feeling. 

“Hey,” he nudges your shoulder with his, “at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.” 

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes at the teasing grin that awaits you. “I don’t know how you’re doing this. This is a nightmare.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s funny watching people try to act like they’re nicer than they are.” Your heart warms a little – Jake very rarely ever complains, no matter how shitty a situation, so of course tonight is no different. His suit is a little wrinkled now from almost an hour of milling about and mingling, and his tie slightly askew in a way that’s almost charming, but also makes you want to reach up and fix it. You hate that you notice things like that about him. “Besides,” he continues, taking a sip of his own punch, “you have plenty of practice with being around these people. You should be used to it.”

You snort at him. “Yeah, well, there’s a difference between working with people and pretending that we’re, you know, in love around them.”

Jake laughs a little. “I think you were doing just fine. But our little charade has become a bit lackluster.” He grins a little, the mischievous one that he does when he’s up to nothing good. “Maybe we could work on a kiss or something. You know, really sell it.”

Your eyes widen as you choke on your punch. “I– what?”

“Okay, maybe not a kiss.” Jake adds on quickly after your reaction. “But we’re barely convincing anyone right now. You look like you’re getting ready to ask me about the office coffee order, not like you want to whisk me away for a midnight kiss.”

Okay, so maybe he’s a little right on that one. You glance around, trying to think of anything other than kissing Jake, when your eyes land on the makeshift dance floor. 

“Come dance with me.” 

“Um.” Jake answers eloquently, “I don’t dance. You know that.”

“Actually,” you begin, already tugging him forward by the arm, “I’m pretty sure that it’s in the contract that you have to dance with me.” Jake opens his mouth to say something but you speak before he can. “And don’t say it’s not. You make shit up about the contract all the time. It’s my turn.”

Jake groans. “Fine.” He mutters, scowling at you as you tug him through the people who are already dancing with their significant others. It’s only 11 minutes to midnight now according to the countdown so you figure everyone is gearing up for the big New Year’s kiss. “But only for you.”

Your stomach does stupid little somersaults when he says that but you ignore them. The room had been filled with the chatter of voices but as soon as you press closer to Jake they grow silent, as if the world beyond the two of you completely disappears. Jake stands awkwardly, his hands hovering just barely above your waist, unsure of where to land. His gaze maps out every inch of your face except your eyes and a tiny blush dusts his cheeks. 

“Are you blushing?” 

Jake scoffs, his palms finally settling fully onto your hips. “No, I’m not blushing.” He stage whispers at you, though you’re pretty sure no one is paying enough attention to have heard him. “I’m nervous. I don’t dance.”

Although you feel equally as flustered – probably more so than Jake, you feel oddly at ease this close to him. You choose not to examine that feeling too deeply at the moment. “I can tell…” you tease, taking one of his hands off your waist with your own. “We hold hands with this one.”

“Oh.” He mutters softly, his gaze flickering to your shoes. He offers his hand for you to take, looking as if he was offering a fragile gift. 

Hyper-aware of every minute rise and fall of his chest with each breath and every flutter of your own heart, you take his hand. “Right.” You answer, smiling a little at him, noticing every single detail – of his warm fingers, of their roughness, of how perfect his hand feels in yours. 

The music shifts to something a little more lively as the countdown hits 7 minutes now, though you and Jake have yet to actually start dancing.

“So, um…” You begin softly, trying to fill the silence that is quickly becoming awkward. “I guess we just… move around a little?”

Jake’s eyes find yours, comedically widened and you can’t help but laugh at the fact that this is what finally has broken his cool demeanor. 

“Right. Moving. Moving is good.” Jake’s voice is a little higher than normal and it makes you feel better about your own nerves. “We can, uh, move.”

“You lead.” You remind him, starting to move slowly back and forth with him. “Right? You’re the guy.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He answers dryly, making you giggle. 5 minutes to midnight. “I thought you were the one who knew how to do this…”

“I do!” You answer, a bit more enthusiastic than you’d meant. “I mean, I do know how to dance. But I’m not… you know, leading.”

He takes a breath, his hand sliding down a fraction to hover over your lower back. You stiffen for just a second before your body relaxes into the contact. “Okay. Leading. I got this,” Jake mutters, his voice carrying an unexpected determination.

Your movements start out a little awkward and timid, but soon the two of you find rhythm with each other, the nerves melting away bit by bit until it feels as if the rest of the world grows muffled – the two of you in your own little universe. 

“Not so bad, right?” You ask him, glancing up into those chocolate eyes of his and trying not to get lost in them. 

“Nah. Not bad.” He smiles at you, then glances at the countdown on the wall. “Three minutes.” 

You nod, your mind suddenly filling with thoughts of what this would feel like if it was real… what it would feel like to kiss him to bring in the new year. It makes your chest squeeze to think about so you say instead, “Thanks again for coming with me to this. I don’t know why you did it… but thank you.”

“Told you… the contract.” He grins but it softens after a moment. “But really, I’d rather be with you, anyway.” 

His answer gives you pause. He doesn’t mean… right? Surely he doesn’t mean anything other than that he just enjoys your company as friends. You want so desperately to believe that it could be more. “I feel the same.” You reply quietly. “I mean that- that I would much rather be with you, too. Even at a stupid New Year’s party.”

Jake smiles, a tiny huff of laughter escaping him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your face, smell his cologne. His eyes lock with yours and you can’t do anything but stare back. “Speaking of New Years.” His eyes cut to the countdown and then back to you. 

Everyone around you begins to count down from ten, their voices blending together – becoming muffled as you once again lose yourself in his gaze. 

9…. 

He wouldn’t be here tonight unless he really wanted to be. 

8…

He chose to be here. 

7…

With you. 

6…

His hand tightens its grip on yours.

5…

Your heart is pounding – so loud it’s like a drum pounding in your ears. 

4… 

The damn contract… years of wanting him. 

3…

God damn it, you’re tired of being afraid and he doesn’t move at all when you lean in. 

2…

His eyes flicker to your lips. Fuck it. 

1..!

Your lips hit his cheek as he turns his head at the very last second. Stunned, you pull backwards, whipping your hand from his. He looks just as surprised as you do – perhaps even more so. For a moment, neither of you move. The people around you cheer, their excited movements blurring as everything around you moves in slow motion. 

“Y/n, I-” Jake cuts himself off as you shake your head, taking a step back from him. Then another. The shame and embarrassment hits all at once, stealing your breath. “Y/n, wait-”

“No!” You shake your head again, walking backwards from him even further. “I- I can’t-” The words won’t come. Nothing you say could ever fix this. Letting instinct take over, you do the only thing you can think of – you turn and run. 

People complain and shoot glares as you shove through them, though you pay no mind to anything except getting as far away as possible from him. Distantly, you can hear him call your name again but you don’t look back. The elevator doors open and you practically throw yourself into it, pressing the close button over and over again as you see Jake making his own way through the crowd. In what you can only imagine is an act of pity from the universe, the doors close before he makes it. 

–

You manage to hold the tears in until you reach the dark street outside. Fireworks boom in the distance and you can still hear the excited chatter and whoops from inside. The hot tears burn as they run down your face, no doubt ruining your makeup. You must look a mess, but you don’t care. You glance around at the deserted street. He drove. You don’t have a car. But you can’t spend another second with him. 

“Y/n!” The building doors slam open and out he comes, his eyes wild and frantically scanning around until he sees you. “Y/n, please!”

You take off running down the pavement. Well… you take off running the best you can in the heels that you had spent so much time picking out because you wanted to impress him. Like a fucking idiot, you think bitterly. 

You barely make it 15 feet before his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you backwards and stopping you from going further. He looks so upset, so affected that you almost fall for it. Almost. “What?” You bite out, tugging uselessly at his grip. 

“Y/n… please. Give me just one fucking minute to explain.” His voice sounds just as wrecked as he looks. 

“There’s nothing to explain. It was a stupid mistake. I don’t- I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”

“Just one minute.” He begs and you feel your resolve crumbling. Of course it does. It’s him. 

You nod. “One minute.”

“I—” His voice breaks, cracking under the weight of his own panic. He runs a hand through his hair – the way he does when he’s stressed or upset. “I don’t know how to—god, I’m just—I don’t know how to say this.”

“I’m an idiot. And I—I’m in love with you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been stuck in his throat for years and now that they’re coming out too fast to control. “I know it—god, I don’t know why I never said it before. I don’t know how to… to keep pretending I’m just your friend when every time you laugh, or make a stupid joke, or chew on your lip when you’re thinking… it kills me because you’re my best friend and I’m not supposed to love you. But I can’t stop it. I can’t. I’m just—fuck, I’m in love with you.”

What feels like millions of emotions and thoughts hit you all at once, each one slipping away before you can pull a coherent thought together. “Then why… why did you do that?” Confusion, hurt, doubt – each one digging its fingers into the little tiny seed of hope in your chest and throttling it before it can form. 

“Because I’m an idiot.” He stresses again, his fingers tightening on your wrist. Without even thinking, you step closer to him, as if your own body is betraying you. “Because I’m scared of fucking this up or of losing you and I can’t-” he rubs his palm over his face with his free hand, his expression scrunching up in frustration. “I didn’t know what it meant. I’d made that stupid joke about us kissing and… and when I realized what was happening I panicked.” The chocolate of his eyes is dimmed, glazed over now with unshed tears. “I was afraid that maybe it didn’t mean anything. And I couldn’t- I wouldn’t survive kissing you and it not meaning anything.”

“But it did!” You insist, finally breaking free from his grasp. “It meant everything.” You wrap your arms around yourself, the chilled breeze finally starting to get to you now that you’re standing still.

“I know. I knew it as soon as I saw your face after and I knew that I’d fucked it up. I knew I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life because it would have meant everything to me, too.” His hands drop defeatedly at his sides, shoulders hanging low – the perfect picture of a man heartbroken. “Let me make it right.” The words are more of a plea, his eyes so sad that you want to reach out and comfort him. “Tell me I can make it right.”

There’s a part of you that wants to keep hiding it forever, to keep burying it deep in your chest where it can’t hurt you. But the louder part of you is tired of waiting, tired of burying it, tired of being afraid. 

“I forgive you,” you take a step towards him, closing the gap that had felt like it stretched out for miles, “and I understand why. And I- I love you, too.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips find yours at last, his hands finding your hips and guiding you closer to him. You can feel the heat of his skin, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. You can taste the fruity punch from earlier on his tongue, coupled with the taste of him. And you want more of it – more of everything. You want to touch every inch of his skin in the way you’ve always wanted but never been allowed. 

He pulls away after what could have been minutes, hours… you can’t tell. All you can focus on is the feeling of him. “I will spend a lifetime making up for what I did to you tonight.” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “I will spend a lifetime making sure that I never see that look on your face ever again – by my own actions or someone else’s.”

“A lifetime?” You ask, loving the feeling of the word on your tongue. A lifetime. A lifetime of him, said so simply – as if he cannot fathom any other ending after this. 

“Two lifetimes,” he continues, “three, even. As many as it takes.” His grin turns a little wicked. “Starting with tonight?” 

The sudden wave of desire that hits you almost makes you dizzy – you feel yourself nodding, you feel the heat rising from between your thighs and spreading throughout your body like a wildfire. Years of waiting, of wanting. And now you have him. “Take me home, Jake.” 

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Your heart is pounding as the two of you tumble through the front door of Jake’s home, both sets of hands exploring each other as his tongue explores your mouth. The ride here is hazy, nothing but a blur as Jake kicks the front door shut behind you. You’ve been to his house plenty of times before so you pay it no mind as Jake starts leading you further into the house and towards the stairs, knowing that his bedroom lies waiting for the two of you upstairs. 

You both stumble at the top of the landing, nearly falling over and making you giggle. Jake grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards his room. He kicks that door shut, too – and then he’s on you once more, gently pushing you back to the wall. His body cages you in, the feel him pressed so closely making you feel weak in the knees. 

“Is this okay?” He asks lowly, his fingers delicately tracing your skin at the tops of your thighs, just barely dipping underneath your dress. Compared to the kiss the two of you just shared, it’s an innocent action, but it feels even more overwhelming because it’s him doing it. At your nod, Jake’s hands continue to explore, his rough fingertips moving higher up and hooking in the elastic band of your panties. “And this?” You nod again and he tugs them down your legs and you step out of them. “Tell me what you want.” Chocolate eyes, almost black, lock onto yours. 

“I want you.” You answer him, finding yourself just as breathless as a teenager during her first time. 

“As much as I’ve dreamt of hearing that,” he murmurs, “more specific.”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, the words that want to spill out seeming crude in such a delicate moment. But the unbridled want in his eyes makes you say them anyway. “I want you to fuck me.” 

He growls a little, a deep rumble in his chest, at that. His hands find your waist and he guides you away from the wall, gently pushing you to the bed. The edge of the mattress presses into the backs of your knees and he guides you to sit. 

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” He answers, sinking down to his knees on the floor in front of you. Deft fingers wrap around your ankle as he lifts your foot slightly and begins to undo the straps of your heels. “But I won’t be doing that tonight.” He lifts your other foot and you glance down at him in confusion. “There’s a million things I want to do to you,” he continues, both shoes now off and placed neatly by the nightstand. “Kiss you, taste you,” he rises, stepping between your parted thighs, “but I won’t be fucking you. I don’t want to do that to you tonight. Ask me what I want to do to you.” He demands softly. 

“What,” you can’t help but stare at him, your heart beating so fast you fear it may burst from your chest, “do you want to do to me?” He grins like a kid in a candy store. “I want to make love to you.” He slips his fingers beneath the straps of your dress and slides them down off your shoulders. “Is that okay?” 

Lifting your hips as he helps you out of the dress, you nod. “More than okay.” Summoning every ounce of bravery you have, you reach out and slide his jacket off his shoulders. It falls to the ground alongside your dress. You grab his tie and haul him closer, crashing your lips to his. Frantically, you help him undo the buttons of his shirt, then his slacks, leaving both of you in nothing but your undergarments. 

“Let me look at you a minute.” He breaks the kiss and pushes you backwards onto the bed. You do your best attempt at scooching backwards in what you hope is a graceful, sexy way, but he pays it no mind. His eyes roam your skin, lingering on your bare breasts, then down to your exposed pussy. You want to cover yourself, to hide yourself away from his piercing gaze but he stops you from moving away with his palms settling on your knees. “Don’t do that,” he whispers, spreading your thighs further, “don’t hide from me. You’re perfect. Stunning.” 

Jake lowers himself between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs and pulling you closer to him. His eyes lift to yours. “Let me taste you? Please?” He begs, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

It’s the “please” that gets you, slick dripping out of you even more. You nod your head. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then the other side. Then a little higher. Hips squirming, you mutter his name. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” Another kiss, this one closer to wear you want him, but still too far. “I’m taking my time. I want to remember every second.” 

Finally, his tongue laps against your aching clit and you cry out, one hand fisting in the sheets and the other reaching down to tangle in his hair. Jake moans against you, his eyes closing in concentration as he circles your clit, toying with you, seeing what movements make you squirm the most. His brows furrow as he dips lower, his tongue pressing just barely into your entrance before swiping back upwards to your clit. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever done before – he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever had before. He’s paying attention, finding what makes you tick and using it to coax the warmth in your lower belly to spread. 

You feel yourself arching upwards, grinding your soaked pussy against his mouth. He groans into your heat, two fingers now prodding at your entrance as his tongue never lets up. His fingers press in deeper, stretching you out as you climb higher and higher to a peak that you know you won’t return from. Cracking your eyes open, you peak down at him again, and you can barely stand the sight that awaits there. His eyes are still closed, his brows drawn together with determination. His mouth attached to your clit and his fingers hidden inside you, curling so deliciously. But what really gets you – the final nail in the coffin that sends you so deep into pleasure you fear you’ll never return, is the way his hips grind desperately into the mattress, as if the very act of bringing you pleasure has rendered him unable to wait for his own. 

“Jake, I’m gonna come.” You warn him, and he only nods his head in answer, his tongue working harder and his fingers faster at your broken warning. Your orgasm is a steady build, starting deep in your belly and working its way outwards, engulfing every nerve-ending with white hot pleasure. Distantly, you hear him moan as your thighs tighten around his face, as your walls clench around his fingers. 

Your body is trembling when he finally pulls away, his fingers then instantly being brought to his mouth. He sits up, his eyes closing again as he licks your release from them before they open again and find your dark gaze. He gives you a lazy grin, his chest and face flushed. “I knew you’d taste sweet.” He tells you, climbing his way upwards towards you to kiss you. You can taste yourself on him and you already want more of him. 

“I need you inside me.” You demand, your hands mapping out every inch of his skin that you can reach before hooking in the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down. 

Every inch of him is just as perfect as you’d imagined it to be. A perfect length and mouth-wateringly thick. His swollen head is flushed and glistening with precum. Slightly bashful, he leans down and kisses you again. 

You reach between your bodies and wrap your fingers around him. He draws back and whines, his body going tense as you work him a little, smearing his precum over his throbbing length. “Fuck, Y/n.” He mutters, placing his forearms on either side of you. After a few pumps, you guide him between your legs, lining him up with your entrance. He starts to press in slowly, his lips wrapping around your left nipple and sucking softly as he sheaths himself inside of you. Both of you cry out softly, your quiet, panting breaths mingling with the other’s. He fills you perfectly, the stretch so delicious you never want to be without him inside you again. “You feel…” He never finishes, instead moving over to suckle at your other breast. 

“Move, baby.” You beg and he instantly obeys you, drawing out from you and then pushing back in, his pace slow but pointed and powerful. Your hands grip his shoulders, sliding down to hold tightly at his biceps as he rocks into you. 

He pulls away from your tit to look down at you, his pupils so wide his eyes look black. The bed frame creaks with each powerful thrust of his hips. “I won’t last with you looking at me like that,” he murmurs, seizing his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” You fight to keep your eyes from fluttering shut – you want to see his face, to see the way it contorts and twists in pleasure. 

“You feel even better.” He brings his thumb up to your lips, dragging it across your bottom lip before pressing into your mouth. You suckle at it, moaning around it. He moans too, then pulls the digit from between your lips and drops his hand to rub your swollen clit in time with his thrusts. “Need you to come first, angel. Wanna feel you squeeze around my cock.” 

You can feel your second orgasm building, your body starting to tremble as he starts to move faster, his cock twitching inside of you as you both near the edge. His lips part, desperate little groans filling the air between you as he fights back his own release. “Please, baby.” He urges, and that’s all it takes. The band inside your belly finally snaps, your vision going white around the edges as your orgasm rocks through you. He thrusts into you frantically, working you through your release before pulling out of you, ropes of hot cum painting your lower belly as he finishes. 

Both of you are left panting, the meaning of what just happened and the weight of what’s been confessed tonight settling over the two of you like a weighted blanket. 

“I love you,” Jake offers, pressing his lips to yours for another kiss, “and I’ll keep kissing you as many times a day as you’ll let me to make up for the one I didn’t give you at midnight.” 

You can’t help but grin up at him, already knowing that no one could ever hold a candle to the man who’s gazing down at you with nothing but reverence in his eyes. “I love you, too.” 

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Fin

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Warnings: 18+ ONLY / minors dni / typos, probably / cussing / unrequited love (but not really) / p in v sex / unprotected sex / fluffy smut / jake being amazing

Word Count: 7k

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There was really no one to blame but yourself. 

No matter how many times you had tried to logic your way out of this being your fault… well. You always came back to the same conclusion. This was entirely, irrevocably, and utterly your own fault. 

Holidays have never been the easiest for you – seasonal depression coupled with a healthy dose of loneliness has never been a mixture that makes the Christmas season particularly enjoyable for you. Not that you weren’t learning to be okay with being single; not at all. In fact, you would much rather be alone than settle for someone who doesn’t treat you right. But something about the holidays just seems to make all that hurt and loneliness more powerful than usual. 

Christmas day had been alright – you had spent the day with a few loved ones and exchanged gifts and shared a meal. Looking forward to seeing the people closest to you had been what got you through the dreary, cold days leading up to Christmas. But now that the day has come and gone, now that you’re stuck in the weird in-between of Christmas and New Years, you find yourself particularly lonely. 

So, when you had received an invite to a company New Years party, you had been less than thrilled at the thought of spending another New Year with nosy coworkers who cared more about getting to know someone for gossip than actual friendship. You were even less thrilled at the prospect of yet another New Year of being single. In fact, you’d been quite content with skipping the event entirely, but you’d made the mistake of mentioning the affair to your best friend Jake, who had been helping you with some home renovations the week before. He had promptly scolded you for being a spoilsport, insisting on an alternative way to spend your New Years Eve. 

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“I don’t want to go alone.” 

Jake grins and rolls his eyes playfully at you. “So dramatic. Just come with me to my family’s get together, then.”

“Oh Lord no.” You exclaim. “That’s even worse! I don’t know most of them, other than Josh. I can’t just invite myself to a family function.”

“You’re not.” Jake quips, plopping down beside you on your sofa. “I’m inviting you to my family function.”

“Absolutely not.” 

Jake looks at you unimpressed, narrowing his eyes the way he does when he’s thinking. “There’s only one alternative, then.” Jake continues to stare, waiting for you to ask what he means. When you don’t give him the bait he’s looking for, he continues on anyway. “I come to your office party with you, then.”

“How is that the only alternative? I do my thing, you do your family thing. That’s the alternative.” You can feel yourself growing frustrated the longer this argument goes on – Jake may mean well, but he’s like a dog with a bone sometimes and just doesn’t seem to know when to quit… and right now seems to be one of those times. You don’t want to go to someone’s else’s family function; you don’t want to go to a stupid office party – let alone by yourself; you would much rather just be alone at home. 

“I can’t let you spend New Year's Eve at a shitty office party or alone here. That would make me the worst best friend ever.” Jake leans backwards onto the sofa, dramatically tossing his head back to rest on the back of the couch. “Besides, it’s in the contract.”

“Jake, nothing is in that damn contract. You made it up.” The Best Friends Contract was something that he had announced was in existence a few years ago in order to explain away his reasoning for always paying for your food when the two of you hang out. “The Best Friend Contract states that a good best friend must never turn down being paid for when the other is more than happy to cover.” You’d called bullshit on the first utterance but it has unfortunately stuck as his go to excuse for anything he did that you tried to argue with him about. 

“Don’t you disrespect the contract like that.” He reaches up and pinches a bit of your hair at the ends with his fingers and tugs a little. “It clearly states in the contract that a best friend never lets the other spend New Years Eve alone.” He tugs again just to be a little shit and then grins widely at you. “I don’t make the rules, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you literally do.” You swat his hand away from your hair, fighting back a smile of your own. “And besides, even if you did show up at my office party, it would end up being awkward.”

“Elaborate.” He demands, reaching up to mess with your hair again and then pouting when you smack his hand away for the second time.

“You know how nosy my coworkers are. They’ll all be asking all night if we’re dating and I’ll have to explain: no, he’s not my boyfriend; no, he’s just my best friend; and yes, he’s a guy and yes, he’s still my best friend.” You huff dramatically – you’ve dealt with it all before with him at parties or events where people can’t seem to understand that a man and a woman can be best friends without it meaning more. “It’ll be awkward and annoying for everyone involved, Jake.”

“So we pretend.” He replies simply, shrugging as if it’s an obvious conclusion. “Just say we’re together and no one will be the wiser.”

“Jake… how on Earth do you think that will be less awkward?”

He just shrugs in answer, still grinning like an idiot at you. “It’ll be fun. Like a game.” He leans in closer, his grin turning a little wicked. “Unless you're scared.” 

“Of what?” You demand, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing back flips when he looks at you like that. 

“Dunno.” He leans back, looking completely innocent again. “You tell me.”

You sigh, knowing that he’s already won. “Fine.” 

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The thing is, you don’t know his siblings or the rest of his extended family very well, but you know how much Jake loves them. So why on Earth would he rather come with you as a fake boyfriend to a shitty office party instead of spending time with them? You’d asked him as much… demanded, even, why on Earth he wanted to skip spending the night with his family. He just smiled at you like he’d been doing for the entire stupid argument and said it was in the contract – a best friend never lets the other spend New Years Eve alone, even if it means pretending to be a significant other.  

So here you are, waiting anxiously for him to come pick you up. You had chosen a long dress for the occasion – just a little too tight in certain areas that you normally don’t like to draw attention to, but it was a little too late now to find something else. You’d styled your hair the way you normally do, though you had added a little more makeup than usual and a glossy lip to top off the look. You’ve been ready for the better part of an hour now since you always tend to start getting ready early when you’re nervous. 

I have no reason to be nervous, you keep telling yourself, it’s just Jake. But that last part is exactly why you’re nervous. You still have no idea why he’s so willing to do this for you – why he’s content with being a fake date at an office party where he doesn’t know anyone instead of spending a fun night partying with his family. Not to mention, the thought alone of Jake in a nice suit makes butterflies erupt in your tummy.

What if he’s only doing this out of pity? What if he’s miserable the whole time? What if it’s awkward pretending to be together and he regrets ever agreeing to this? What if-

The questions swirl through your mind at such a constant rate that you’re quite sure you may vomit from the nerves before he ever even arrives. You’re moments from texting him and calling off the whole thing but then comes the knock at the door – and you know that he’s the only person it could be. 

Steeling yourself and resolving to act like a big girl, you rise up from your seat on the sofa and open the front door. 

“Wow.” The word slips from your lips without your brain being able to fully process, yet you can’t think of anything else to say. Jake has always been attractive – going from being a cute young man when you first met to the handsome one standing before you right now. The all black outfit suits him; black always does. His hair is freshly washed, the ends delicately curling against his shoulders. His usual necklaces adorn his neck, with a few extra bracelets and rings added to the ones he usually wears. 

Chocolate eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles, his head tilting just barely to the left as he regards you. “I hope that was a good “wow” and not a bad one.” He glances down, a tiny hint of shyness to the action. 

“No. It-” you clear your throat, “it was a good “wow.” You look very handsome.” You’re quick to recover, mentally shaking yourself. 

“And you look wonderful.” His eyes give you a once over, making you feel both emboldened by your choice of dress and slightly embarrassed. “I’m a very lucky man to have you as my fake boyfriend.”

The joke breaks the slight awkwardness of the moment and you laugh softly. He’s always been good at that. 

“And I’m a lucky fake girlfriend.” You grab your bag from the hook on the wall and step out into the chilly night with him. He hovers beside you as you lock your door and then the two of you walk side by side to the warmth of his waiting car. 

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Your pulse is racing as you and Jake enter your office building. It only gets faster still as the two of you get onto the elevator. 

“Nervous?” Jake asks as you press the button for the correct floor. The doors closing feels like a curtain call of doom.

“A little.” You shrug, but Jake’s concern for you is written all over his face. “Some of my coworkers can just be a lot.” You explain, hoping that will be enough explanation for him and he won’t go digging further into your other fears for tonight. 

“I’ll just use my natural boyish charm.” Jake grins and loops his arm with yours as the elevator dings. 

“Boyish? You’re almost 30.”

Jake gasps dramatically and then tugs you off the elevator and towards the party that’s already been started for a good 30 minutes. One of the TVs on the wall has been turned to a countdown for midnight. You recognize many of the guests, though there are several that you don’t – likely other people’s plus ones that you’re sure they’ve been dying to show off. Though there’s one woman that stands out… the one woman that you absolutely didn’t want to see tonight. 

“Who are you death staring at?” Jake murmurs into your ear, startling you a little. When did he move that close? 

“Her name’s Jess. And she’s a stuck up bitch.”

“Woah.” Jake's eyes widen at your harsh words and looks back towards her, his eyes giving her a once over. “She’s definitely, um..” Her dress is skin tight and short, barely covering anything. Big hair and high stilettos makes it so that she sticks out like a sore thumb. “She’s definitely got a style.” 

You giggle a little at his attempt to be nice – in all the time you’ve known him, you can’t think of a single time when he’s ever insulted a woman’s appearance or choice of dress, even when it’s totally warranted. 

“Aaand she’s walking over here.” Jake supplies, making you scowl at him. 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ noticed.” You say lowly, clenching your teeth in what you hope is a convincing smile. “Jess! Hey.”

She smiles widely at you, flashing her overly white teeth. “Y/n! I didn’t think you would show tonight.” Her perfume is so strong you’re pretty sure you’re already getting a headache by the time she makes it to you. You begin to explain that Jake wanted to come but she’s quick to interrupt you as soon as her eyes land on him. 

“Well it’s certainly lovely to meet you.” She purrs, stepping closer to him and practically turning her back to you. “I’m Jess.” She extends her hand, which Jake shakes just barely before dropping it again. 

“Jake. It’s nice to meet you as well.” His smile is tight, mostly forced, but she either doesn’t care or is too stupid to notice. 

“Now tell me how you managed to snag this handsome young man, Y/n?”

Already your heart rate is starting to pick up, anger and hurt at her apparent disbelief that you’re dating him making you want to reach up and rip her obnoxious strip lashes off her eyes. Even though it’s the truth, your brain not-so-kindly reminds you. 

“Well, I-”

“We’ve been friends for years.” Jake interrupts you, taking a side step closer to hook his arm with yours once again. “Naturally, I fell in love with her the very first time I met her.” Those chocolate eyes find yours, a comforting warmth in them that instantly makes you feel better. “But I only recently managed to work up the nerve to ask her out.” 

His tone is sickeningly love-struck, so believable that you have to stop yourself from openly staring at him in shock as he speaks. You find yourself nodding along, more than happy to play along that you’re both in love with each other. 

“Of course, I had feelings for him the whole time, too.” You squeeze his arm a little. “Just never thought he felt the same. Turns out we were both oblivious.”

“But here we are.” Jake turns to look at you again as he speaks, those warm eyes making you feel all melty and gooey inside. 

“Here we are.”

Jess, for her part, manages to seem utterly crestfallen as the two of you speak, as if she had known Jake for years and been in love with him, too. Eventually, she turns her nose up in the way she does when she feels offended and plasters a saccharine smile onto her painted lips. “Well how sweet is that?” She asks, though gives no time for either of you to speak further. “Well, there’s still plenty of people for me to see tonight so you two enjoy yourselves.”

She’s gone before either of you can reply, disappearing and leaving nothing but the smell of her sweet perfume. 

“See?” Jake asks, tugging you towards the refreshments. “Not so bad.”

“Sure.” You scowl but gratefully take the cup of punch that he offers you. 

– 

A few other coworkers come to say hello, with the two of you giving the same performance each time you get asked how the two of you met. It gets easier, and each time it happens you can almost picture the story that the two of you weave – Jake shyly admitting he’s been in love with you, you declaring you love him back, you kiss, happily ever after, blah blah blah. It’s too easy to imagine and you find yourself wishing that you were anywhere but here with anyone but him. 

Jake glances towards you, probably noticing that you’re standing there as stiff as a board, trying to look romantic and in-love while sipping punch like it’s a secret weapon against the sheer discomfort you’re feeling. 

“Hey,” he nudges your shoulder with his, “at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.” 

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes at the teasing grin that awaits you. “I don’t know how you’re doing this. This is a nightmare.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s funny watching people try to act like they’re nicer than they are.” Your heart warms a little – Jake very rarely ever complains, no matter how shitty a situation, so of course tonight is no different. His suit is a little wrinkled now from almost an hour of milling about and mingling, and his tie slightly askew in a way that’s almost charming, but also makes you want to reach up and fix it. You hate that you notice things like that about him. “Besides,” he continues, taking a sip of his own punch, “you have plenty of practice with being around these people. You should be used to it.”

You snort at him. “Yeah, well, there’s a difference between working with people and pretending that we’re, you know, in love around them.”

Jake laughs a little. “I think you were doing just fine. But our little charade has become a bit lackluster.” He grins a little, the mischievous one that he does when he’s up to nothing good. “Maybe we could work on a kiss or something. You know, really sell it.”

Your eyes widen as you choke on your punch. “I– what?”

“Okay, maybe not a kiss.” Jake adds on quickly after your reaction. “But we’re barely convincing anyone right now. You look like you’re getting ready to ask me about the office coffee order, not like you want to whisk me away for a midnight kiss.”

Okay, so maybe he’s a little right on that one. You glance around, trying to think of anything other than kissing Jake, when your eyes land on the makeshift dance floor. 

“Come dance with me.” 

“Um.” Jake answers eloquently, “I don’t dance. You know that.”

“Actually,” you begin, already tugging him forward by the arm, “I’m pretty sure that it’s in the contract that you have to dance with me.” Jake opens his mouth to say something but you speak before he can. “And don’t say it’s not. You make shit up about the contract all the time. It’s my turn.”

Jake groans. “Fine.” He mutters, scowling at you as you tug him through the people who are already dancing with their significant others. It’s only 11 minutes to midnight now according to the countdown so you figure everyone is gearing up for the big New Year’s kiss. “But only for you.”

Your stomach does stupid little somersaults when he says that but you ignore them. The room had been filled with the chatter of voices but as soon as you press closer to Jake they grow silent, as if the world beyond the two of you completely disappears. Jake stands awkwardly, his hands hovering just barely above your waist, unsure of where to land. His gaze maps out every inch of your face except your eyes and a tiny blush dusts his cheeks. 

“Are you blushing?” 

Jake scoffs, his palms finally settling fully onto your hips. “No, I’m not blushing.” He stage whispers at you, though you’re pretty sure no one is paying enough attention to have heard him. “I’m nervous. I don’t dance.”

Although you feel equally as flustered – probably more so than Jake, you feel oddly at ease this close to him. You choose not to examine that feeling too deeply at the moment. “I can tell…” you tease, taking one of his hands off your waist with your own. “We hold hands with this one.”

“Oh.” He mutters softly, his gaze flickering to your shoes. He offers his hand for you to take, looking as if he was offering a fragile gift. 

Hyper-aware of every minute rise and fall of his chest with each breath and every flutter of your own heart, you take his hand. “Right.” You answer, smiling a little at him, noticing every single detail – of his warm fingers, of their roughness, of how perfect his hand feels in yours. 

The music shifts to something a little more lively as the countdown hits 7 minutes now, though you and Jake have yet to actually start dancing.

“So, um…” You begin softly, trying to fill the silence that is quickly becoming awkward. “I guess we just… move around a little?”

Jake’s eyes find yours, comedically widened and you can’t help but laugh at the fact that this is what finally has broken his cool demeanor. 

“Right. Moving. Moving is good.” Jake’s voice is a little higher than normal and it makes you feel better about your own nerves. “We can, uh, move.”

“You lead.” You remind him, starting to move slowly back and forth with him. “Right? You’re the guy.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He answers dryly, making you giggle. 5 minutes to midnight. “I thought you were the one who knew how to do this…”

“I do!” You answer, a bit more enthusiastic than you’d meant. “I mean, I do know how to dance. But I’m not… you know, leading.”

He takes a breath, his hand sliding down a fraction to hover over your lower back. You stiffen for just a second before your body relaxes into the contact. “Okay. Leading. I got this,” Jake mutters, his voice carrying an unexpected determination.

Your movements start out a little awkward and timid, but soon the two of you find rhythm with each other, the nerves melting away bit by bit until it feels as if the rest of the world grows muffled – the two of you in your own little universe. 

“Not so bad, right?” You ask him, glancing up into those chocolate eyes of his and trying not to get lost in them. 

“Nah. Not bad.” He smiles at you, then glances at the countdown on the wall. “Three minutes.” 

You nod, your mind suddenly filling with thoughts of what this would feel like if it was real… what it would feel like to kiss him to bring in the new year. It makes your chest squeeze to think about so you say instead, “Thanks again for coming with me to this. I don’t know why you did it… but thank you.”

“Told you… the contract.” He grins but it softens after a moment. “But really, I’d rather be with you, anyway.” 

His answer gives you pause. He doesn’t mean… right? Surely he doesn’t mean anything other than that he just enjoys your company as friends. You want so desperately to believe that it could be more. “I feel the same.” You reply quietly. “I mean that- that I would much rather be with you, too. Even at a stupid New Year’s party.”

Jake smiles, a tiny huff of laughter escaping him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your face, smell his cologne. His eyes lock with yours and you can’t do anything but stare back. “Speaking of New Years.” His eyes cut to the countdown and then back to you. 

Everyone around you begins to count down from ten, their voices blending together – becoming muffled as you once again lose yourself in his gaze. 

9…. 

He wouldn’t be here tonight unless he really wanted to be. 

8…

He chose to be here. 

7…

With you. 

6…

His hand tightens its grip on yours.

5…

Your heart is pounding – so loud it’s like a drum pounding in your ears. 

4… 

The damn contract… years of wanting him. 

3…

God damn it, you’re tired of being afraid and he doesn’t move at all when you lean in. 

2…

His eyes flicker to your lips. Fuck it. 

1..!

Your lips hit his cheek as he turns his head at the very last second. Stunned, you pull backwards, whipping your hand from his. He looks just as surprised as you do – perhaps even more so. For a moment, neither of you move. The people around you cheer, their excited movements blurring as everything around you moves in slow motion. 

“Y/n, I-” Jake cuts himself off as you shake your head, taking a step back from him. Then another. The shame and embarrassment hits all at once, stealing your breath. “Y/n, wait-”

“No!” You shake your head again, walking backwards from him even further. “I- I can’t-” The words won’t come. Nothing you say could ever fix this. Letting instinct take over, you do the only thing you can think of – you turn and run. 

People complain and shoot glares as you shove through them, though you pay no mind to anything except getting as far away as possible from him. Distantly, you can hear him call your name again but you don’t look back. The elevator doors open and you practically throw yourself into it, pressing the close button over and over again as you see Jake making his own way through the crowd. In what you can only imagine is an act of pity from the universe, the doors close before he makes it. 

–

You manage to hold the tears in until you reach the dark street outside. Fireworks boom in the distance and you can still hear the excited chatter and whoops from inside. The hot tears burn as they run down your face, no doubt ruining your makeup. You must look a mess, but you don’t care. You glance around at the deserted street. He drove. You don’t have a car. But you can’t spend another second with him. 

“Y/n!” The building doors slam open and out he comes, his eyes wild and frantically scanning around until he sees you. “Y/n, please!”

You take off running down the pavement. Well… you take off running the best you can in the heels that you had spent so much time picking out because you wanted to impress him. Like a fucking idiot, you think bitterly. 

You barely make it 15 feet before his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you backwards and stopping you from going further. He looks so upset, so affected that you almost fall for it. Almost. “What?” You bite out, tugging uselessly at his grip. 

“Y/n… please. Give me just one fucking minute to explain.” His voice sounds just as wrecked as he looks. 

“There’s nothing to explain. It was a stupid mistake. I don’t- I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”

“Just one minute.” He begs and you feel your resolve crumbling. Of course it does. It’s him. 

You nod. “One minute.”

“I—” His voice breaks, cracking under the weight of his own panic. He runs a hand through his hair – the way he does when he’s stressed or upset. “I don’t know how to—god, I’m just—I don’t know how to say this.”

“I’m an idiot. And I—I’m in love with you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been stuck in his throat for years and now that they’re coming out too fast to control. “I know it—god, I don’t know why I never said it before. I don’t know how to… to keep pretending I’m just your friend when every time you laugh, or make a stupid joke, or chew on your lip when you’re thinking… it kills me because you’re my best friend and I’m not supposed to love you. But I can’t stop it. I can’t. I’m just—fuck, I’m in love with you.”

What feels like millions of emotions and thoughts hit you all at once, each one slipping away before you can pull a coherent thought together. “Then why… why did you do that?” Confusion, hurt, doubt – each one digging its fingers into the little tiny seed of hope in your chest and throttling it before it can form. 

“Because I’m an idiot.” He stresses again, his fingers tightening on your wrist. Without even thinking, you step closer to him, as if your own body is betraying you. “Because I’m scared of fucking this up or of losing you and I can’t-” he rubs his palm over his face with his free hand, his expression scrunching up in frustration. “I didn’t know what it meant. I’d made that stupid joke about us kissing and… and when I realized what was happening I panicked.” The chocolate of his eyes is dimmed, glazed over now with unshed tears. “I was afraid that maybe it didn’t mean anything. And I couldn’t- I wouldn’t survive kissing you and it not meaning anything.”

“But it did!” You insist, finally breaking free from his grasp. “It meant everything.” You wrap your arms around yourself, the chilled breeze finally starting to get to you now that you’re standing still.

“I know. I knew it as soon as I saw your face after and I knew that I’d fucked it up. I knew I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life because it would have meant everything to me, too.” His hands drop defeatedly at his sides, shoulders hanging low – the perfect picture of a man heartbroken. “Let me make it right.” The words are more of a plea, his eyes so sad that you want to reach out and comfort him. “Tell me I can make it right.”

There’s a part of you that wants to keep hiding it forever, to keep burying it deep in your chest where it can’t hurt you. But the louder part of you is tired of waiting, tired of burying it, tired of being afraid. 

“I forgive you,” you take a step towards him, closing the gap that had felt like it stretched out for miles, “and I understand why. And I- I love you, too.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his lips find yours at last, his hands finding your hips and guiding you closer to him. You can feel the heat of his skin, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. You can taste the fruity punch from earlier on his tongue, coupled with the taste of him. And you want more of it – more of everything. You want to touch every inch of his skin in the way you’ve always wanted but never been allowed. 

He pulls away after what could have been minutes, hours… you can’t tell. All you can focus on is the feeling of him. “I will spend a lifetime making up for what I did to you tonight.” He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “I will spend a lifetime making sure that I never see that look on your face ever again – by my own actions or someone else’s.”

“A lifetime?” You ask, loving the feeling of the word on your tongue. A lifetime. A lifetime of him, said so simply – as if he cannot fathom any other ending after this. 

“Two lifetimes,” he continues, “three, even. As many as it takes.” His grin turns a little wicked. “Starting with tonight?” 

The sudden wave of desire that hits you almost makes you dizzy – you feel yourself nodding, you feel the heat rising from between your thighs and spreading throughout your body like a wildfire. Years of waiting, of wanting. And now you have him. “Take me home, Jake.” 

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉

Your heart is pounding as the two of you tumble through the front door of Jake’s home, both sets of hands exploring each other as his tongue explores your mouth. The ride here is hazy, nothing but a blur as Jake kicks the front door shut behind you. You’ve been to his house plenty of times before so you pay it no mind as Jake starts leading you further into the house and towards the stairs, knowing that his bedroom lies waiting for the two of you upstairs. 

You both stumble at the top of the landing, nearly falling over and making you giggle. Jake grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards his room. He kicks that door shut, too – and then he’s on you once more, gently pushing you back to the wall. His body cages you in, the feel him pressed so closely making you feel weak in the knees. 

“Is this okay?” He asks lowly, his fingers delicately tracing your skin at the tops of your thighs, just barely dipping underneath your dress. Compared to the kiss the two of you just shared, it’s an innocent action, but it feels even more overwhelming because it’s him doing it. At your nod, Jake’s hands continue to explore, his rough fingertips moving higher up and hooking in the elastic band of your panties. “And this?” You nod again and he tugs them down your legs and you step out of them. “Tell me what you want.” Chocolate eyes, almost black, lock onto yours. 

“I want you.” You answer him, finding yourself just as breathless as a teenager during her first time. 

“As much as I’ve dreamt of hearing that,” he murmurs, “more specific.”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, the words that want to spill out seeming crude in such a delicate moment. But the unbridled want in his eyes makes you say them anyway. “I want you to fuck me.” 

He growls a little, a deep rumble in his chest, at that. His hands find your waist and he guides you away from the wall, gently pushing you to the bed. The edge of the mattress presses into the backs of your knees and he guides you to sit. 

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” He answers, sinking down to his knees on the floor in front of you. Deft fingers wrap around your ankle as he lifts your foot slightly and begins to undo the straps of your heels. “But I won’t be doing that tonight.” He lifts your other foot and you glance down at him in confusion. “There’s a million things I want to do to you,” he continues, both shoes now off and placed neatly by the nightstand. “Kiss you, taste you,” he rises, stepping between your parted thighs, “but I won’t be fucking you. I don’t want to do that to you tonight. Ask me what I want to do to you.” He demands softly. 

“What,” you can’t help but stare at him, your heart beating so fast you fear it may burst from your chest, “do you want to do to me?” He grins like a kid in a candy store. “I want to make love to you.” He slips his fingers beneath the straps of your dress and slides them down off your shoulders. “Is that okay?” 

Lifting your hips as he helps you out of the dress, you nod. “More than okay.” Summoning every ounce of bravery you have, you reach out and slide his jacket off his shoulders. It falls to the ground alongside your dress. You grab his tie and haul him closer, crashing your lips to his. Frantically, you help him undo the buttons of his shirt, then his slacks, leaving both of you in nothing but your undergarments. 

“Let me look at you a minute.” He breaks the kiss and pushes you backwards onto the bed. You do your best attempt at scooching backwards in what you hope is a graceful, sexy way, but he pays it no mind. His eyes roam your skin, lingering on your bare breasts, then down to your exposed pussy. You want to cover yourself, to hide yourself away from his piercing gaze but he stops you from moving away with his palms settling on your knees. “Don’t do that,” he whispers, spreading your thighs further, “don’t hide from me. You’re perfect. Stunning.” 

Jake lowers himself between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs and pulling you closer to him. His eyes lift to yours. “Let me taste you? Please?” He begs, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

It’s the “please” that gets you, slick dripping out of you even more. You nod your head. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then the other side. Then a little higher. Hips squirming, you mutter his name. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” Another kiss, this one closer to wear you want him, but still too far. “I’m taking my time. I want to remember every second.” 

Finally, his tongue laps against your aching clit and you cry out, one hand fisting in the sheets and the other reaching down to tangle in his hair. Jake moans against you, his eyes closing in concentration as he circles your clit, toying with you, seeing what movements make you squirm the most. His brows furrow as he dips lower, his tongue pressing just barely into your entrance before swiping back upwards to your clit. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever done before – he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever had before. He’s paying attention, finding what makes you tick and using it to coax the warmth in your lower belly to spread. 

You feel yourself arching upwards, grinding your soaked pussy against his mouth. He groans into your heat, two fingers now prodding at your entrance as his tongue never lets up. His fingers press in deeper, stretching you out as you climb higher and higher to a peak that you know you won’t return from. Cracking your eyes open, you peak down at him again, and you can barely stand the sight that awaits there. His eyes are still closed, his brows drawn together with determination. His mouth attached to your clit and his fingers hidden inside you, curling so deliciously. But what really gets you – the final nail in the coffin that sends you so deep into pleasure you fear you’ll never return, is the way his hips grind desperately into the mattress, as if the very act of bringing you pleasure has rendered him unable to wait for his own. 

“Jake, I’m gonna come.” You warn him, and he only nods his head in answer, his tongue working harder and his fingers faster at your broken warning. Your orgasm is a steady build, starting deep in your belly and working its way outwards, engulfing every nerve-ending with white hot pleasure. Distantly, you hear him moan as your thighs tighten around his face, as your walls clench around his fingers. 

Your body is trembling when he finally pulls away, his fingers then instantly being brought to his mouth. He sits up, his eyes closing again as he licks your release from them before they open again and find your dark gaze. He gives you a lazy grin, his chest and face flushed. “I knew you’d taste sweet.” He tells you, climbing his way upwards towards you to kiss you. You can taste yourself on him and you already want more of him. 

“I need you inside me.” You demand, your hands mapping out every inch of his skin that you can reach before hooking in the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down. 

Every inch of him is just as perfect as you’d imagined it to be. A perfect length and mouth-wateringly thick. His swollen head is flushed and glistening with precum. Slightly bashful, he leans down and kisses you again. 

You reach between your bodies and wrap your fingers around him. He draws back and whines, his body going tense as you work him a little, smearing his precum over his throbbing length. “Fuck, Y/n.” He mutters, placing his forearms on either side of you. After a few pumps, you guide him between your legs, lining him up with your entrance. He starts to press in slowly, his lips wrapping around your left nipple and sucking softly as he sheaths himself inside of you. Both of you cry out softly, your quiet, panting breaths mingling with the other’s. He fills you perfectly, the stretch so delicious you never want to be without him inside you again. “You feel…” He never finishes, instead moving over to suckle at your other breast. 

“Move, baby.” You beg and he instantly obeys you, drawing out from you and then pushing back in, his pace slow but pointed and powerful. Your hands grip his shoulders, sliding down to hold tightly at his biceps as he rocks into you. 

He pulls away from your tit to look down at you, his pupils so wide his eyes look black. The bed frame creaks with each powerful thrust of his hips. “I won’t last with you looking at me like that,” he murmurs, seizing his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” You fight to keep your eyes from fluttering shut – you want to see his face, to see the way it contorts and twists in pleasure. 

“You feel even better.” He brings his thumb up to your lips, dragging it across your bottom lip before pressing into your mouth. You suckle at it, moaning around it. He moans too, then pulls the digit from between your lips and drops his hand to rub your swollen clit in time with his thrusts. “Need you to come first, angel. Wanna feel you squeeze around my cock.” 

You can feel your second orgasm building, your body starting to tremble as he starts to move faster, his cock twitching inside of you as you both near the edge. His lips part, desperate little groans filling the air between you as he fights back his own release. “Please, baby.” He urges, and that’s all it takes. The band inside your belly finally snaps, your vision going white around the edges as your orgasm rocks through you. He thrusts into you frantically, working you through your release before pulling out of you, ropes of hot cum painting your lower belly as he finishes. 

Both of you are left panting, the meaning of what just happened and the weight of what’s been confessed tonight settling over the two of you like a weighted blanket. 

“I love you,” Jake offers, pressing his lips to yours for another kiss, “and I’ll keep kissing you as many times a day as you’ll let me to make up for the one I didn’t give you at midnight.” 

You can’t help but grin up at him, already knowing that no one could ever hold a candle to the man who’s gazing down at you with nothing but reverence in his eyes. “I love you, too.” 

✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉༝✧✧༝┉˚*❋ ❋*˚┉

Fin

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The two of you were inseparable from the moment you met some twenty years ago now. Two peas in a pod, as everyone would say. He’s been your favorite person in the whole world for the better part of your life. You can’t even recall a time that he wasn’t there – life before him just doesn’t exist to you anymore.

It wasn’t until your junior year of high school that things…changed. You began seeing him in a new light – he started to look different to you. Different in a good way, of course.

That was the year he started to grow into the man you’d find yourself falling deeply in love with, the man you knew you were destined to spend the rest of your conceivable days with. 

Three short years later, his was the face you’d see as you walked barefoot along the soft grass, littered in pink rose petals. Your hands held a small bouquet of the same roses that matched the petals at your feet, mixed with a few baby's breaths that you’d also braided in your hair. 

An intimate ceremony in early Spring was all you truly wanted. Just you, Jake, and a few people whom you both loved the most. Essentially an elopement – you just never felt the need to plan a ceremony of grandeur. It simply didn’t suit the two of you; it was never a show for you and Jake. It was simply you and Jake. He was your person. As long as you had him, a big celebration wasn’t necessary to you. Becoming his wife was the celebration.

You only had two stipulations for the decor; as many pink roses as your small, combined salaries could muster, and the Laramie mountains of Wyoming that you both grew up hiking together. The wildlife, peaceful and welcoming, served as beautiful additions to celebrate your matrimony. 

Your dress was made by your grandma's own two hands, woven entirely in delicate lace. The sleeves draped gracefully from your shoulders, and the small train that dragged behind you gathered pieces of the earth as you walked toward your love, though you didn’t mind the stains at all. Just the same, you never bothered to remove them. The earth and its gifts were just as much a part of the day as the wedding dress was.

As you made your solo walk down the earth's aisle, everything around you was a blur. Jake, the most handsome man your eyes had ever been given the pleasure to gaze upon, was the only thing clear to you in that moment. His hair, wind blown to beautiful perfection, and his skin, smooth and kissed by the sun. The white linen shirt he wore was left open around his chest, the mix of silver and gold charms decorating his skin, catching the rays from the eventide sun. 

You shared your first kiss as one at dusk, with the sun falling carefully below the mountains that proudly stood behind you. A sea of monarchs flew over the two of you, as if Mother Nature herself was celebrating your union, stamping her very own approval. 

There was nothing else in the world that mattered in that moment as you gazed into your new husband's eyes – his eyes that the golden rays themselves paled in comparison to. You both understood, from the instant your lips met, that your lives had truly just begun. 

The wedding was as near perfect as any could be. Picturesque, serene – the air felt fresh, anew. Your husband swayed you in his arms as you danced to nature's music, dancing until the sun closed her eyes and gave way for the moon to bathe you in her light. 

Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka — never was there a title you were more proud to wear. With the most delicate and dainty golden band around your ring finger, your bond was at last sealed.

Without the funds to take a proper honeymoon, you instead spent a quiet week in a secluded cabin in those very same mountains that joined you for your wedding day. You don’t remember leaving the little log home once during that week. Each day was spent just the two of you – no television, no intrusions from cell phones, no internet, just you and Jake. As it was always meant to be. You made love more times that week than you dare count, practically never bothered to put clothes on the whole time. You both knew they would be stripped off before you even had the chance to properly get dressed. 

It was the best week of your life, for reasons that are invaluable to you. Not only did you spend every second of that time loving your brand new husband, but the love from that week resulted in the creation of the very thing that represented the earth shattering adoration you shared for one another. 

The pregnancy came a little earlier than you had truly wanted. And it’s not that you weren’t over the moon excited for the addition, though the two of you certainly weren’t as prepared as you wish you would’ve been. 

But, then again, is one ever truly prepared for such a thing?

It was scary. Terrifying, even. Jake doted over you in every way imaginable, taking care of your each and every need as they came about. Everything became about what was best for the baby, including scrounging to find a new place to live. The one bedroom studio just wasn’t going to cut it for your soon-to-be family of three. Though you’d always dreamed of a beautiful home with acres and acres of land on the outskirts of Casper, where you could gaze at the mountains from your own backyard, you just didn’t have the time or the money you needed to acquire such a thing. 

The old home you found in the city was beautiful, but your finances weren’t sufficient enough to sustain a mortgage just yet. Let alone all the things necessary for a newborn baby, your little girl, who was due to arrive in only a matter of months after you moved into your mostly unfurnished home. The stress eventually led to financial tension in your marriage. Jake had no choice but to take up a few jobs, along with his freelance photography, while you worked from home as much as you could. Your marriage was being tested early on, tested in ways neither of you were equipped to handle at the time. 

You still loved each other. God did you love each other. But even a love so profound and seemingly limitless wasn’t enough to endure each strain tossed your way. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t see eye to eye on, well, most everything.

But, of course, the number one priority was the baby. The only things you could agree on at that time was anything that had to do with her. The theme of her nursery, which you both decided should be mountains. The two of you spent weeks painting the same ranges that were a symbol of your love on her walls. Everything in her room depicted the very place she was conceived, and the place you vowed to love your husband for the rest of your life. 

Her name hadn’t been decided just yet, but when the moment was right, it came naturally. Though your new marriage was experiencing an upheaval, her name was something that didn’t require a second thought from either of you.

Laramie Rose Kiszka. 

Laramie, after the mountains that oversaw your union. Rose, representing the ones you held, the ones that led a path to the man you’d always loved. The only man you’d ever loved.

Every marriage has its hardships, though neither of you were expecting them to occur so soon. There are many things that happened during that time that you’ll always question. But one thing you undoubtedly knew then, and what you still know now –

The love in your heart for him, in spite of it all, has never wavered. 

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She was born at the very beginning of the year, on the coldest January day you’d ever known. Flurries of snow spit from the sky as she entered the world, covering the entire town of Casper with its sparkling blanket of white. Your labor was anything but easy, lasting for nearly thirteen hours. The most painful thing your body ever experienced, yet the most beautiful thing came from it.

Jake was by your side every second of it. Holding your hand that was squeezing the life out of his, wiping the sweat from your forehead, placing a cool washcloth against your skin when you needed it. He was your strength in that moment, when you felt you’d all but lost yours as your body struggled to bring her into the world. 

And then, when she was ready, she came. The moment you heard her first cry, all the pain in your weak body subsided, replaced with a warmth that you can only describe as pure love. As the nurse handed her to you, when you looked into her eyes for the very first time, it was as though the last thirteen hours of painful labor no longer existed. You were healed the instant you saw her. 

“Welcome to the world, my sweet Laramie Rose,” you whispered to her as you held her against your bare chest for the first time. Her eyes held the entire world. She was everything beautiful and perfect that could ever be offered to you, in her tiny six pound body that you held safely for nine months. 

“My gorgeous girls,”  Jake said as he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, then your baby girl on her tiny forehead. “My family.” 

Tears fell from Jake’s eyes as he held her for the first time, the smile of a brand new, proud dad worn across his quivering lips. You’d never seen anything more pure in your life, and everything that had transpired over the last nine months just didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was Laramie, and the desire to protect her at all costs, with Jake by your side to ensure she’d have the best life both of you could give her. It was no longer about the two of you; it was about the three of you. 

Everything felt right in that moment. It was as if, at last, everything had all fallen into place exactly as it was always meant to. It felt as though Laramie was the very thing the two of you needed to get back to the root of it all, back to the way you felt the day you said ‘I do.’ She gave you a reason, a purpose. One that you weren’t prepared for, but one that you were so grateful for.

The first few months were hard, being thrown into the throes of parenthood before you were truly given the chance to enjoy being married. But, she was worth every second. Watching her grow and change, seeing her smile for the first time, admiring her innocent view of the world around her – you just couldn’t believe that you and Jake had a hand in creating something so perfect. 

It wasn’t easy, sure. But it was, and still is, the greatest joy of your life – to be her mother, and Jake to be her father. 

However, while your tiny girl was the sweetest, happiest baby, you and Jake were struggling to find your footing. The bills continued to pile, and Jake just couldn’t manage working more than one job any longer. It was a miracle when he landed a spot with an incredibly renowned photographer as an assistant, finally able to get his foot in the door with his craft. 

The money was good. It was great, actually. His first paycheck alone paid up all of the bills, including the late fees. The job made it possible for you to be a full-time, stay at home mom. Something you and Jake both agreed was the best thing for Lara. 

With the money Jake was making, you truly thought that the problems in your marriage would solve themselves. The stress of finances was the biggest problem between the two of you, and when that was no longer a hindrance, you felt your marriage would heal itself in no time. 

But, that wasn’t the case. 

Arguments, though petty and utterly pointless, soon became a daily occurrence. Multiple times a day, at that.

It was always the same things — he was gone all the time for work so you felt like you were parenting alone, and he felt his every effort to take care of his family was lost on you. 

None of it was true, but both of you were far too stubborn to admit to any wrong doings. The arguments resulted in awful things being said to one another. Your frustrations would cause your lips to utter things neither one of you meant – things you didn’t mean, at least – and that caused you to heavily resent one another. 

But, the biggest fight occurred when Jake proposed the idea of moving away. All for his job. He swore that it would be the best thing for your family, that he wouldn’t have to travel so often. A promising studio, located just east of Los Angeles, offered him a position for more than double the income he was bringing in. He essentially accepted the job before ever uttering a word about it with you. 

And that was your final straw. 

You felt betrayed in the worst ways, and the idea of leaving Casper, of leaving the place that held so much history for you and Jake, leaving the mountains…that wasn’t something you were willing to budge on. Up until that moment, you thought you were both in agreement that raising Lara here was what was truly best for her. 

At that point, you both knew what needed to be done.  

It wasn’t an easy choice to make, but it was the right one. The only one, in fact. Not what either of you wanted, but what you knew you needed. It was the hardest lesson of ‘want’ and ‘need’ that you’ve ever learned. 

Neither one of you wanted to raise your daughter in an environment like that, with parents who just weren’t equipped for what being married meant. Living together was simply too difficult for you and Jake. You were the same in so many ways, yet completely different when it truly mattered. It ultimately boiled down to consistent disagreements that were beyond repair.

So, when Lara turned a year old, you both decided that, for the sake of being the best parents you could be to your precious girl, splitting was the best thing you could do for her. And for yourselves. 

The divorce seemed to come as naturally as the wedding did. For the first time in over a year, there were no arguments, no words spoken out of anger. It was a seamless transition, but one that left a scar on your heart. 

It was Jake’s choice for you to keep the house, and it only made sense given the nature of his job and the chance he’d move away. And it was that very reason you were initially granted full custody of Lara. You were able to offer her a stable home that the judge felt needed prioritized. Jake pleaded with the judge, promised he wouldn’t leave if that’s what it took to see her more. But, the judge wouldn’t hear it. The pain in Jake’s eyes as he dutifully agreed to the arrangement still haunts you most everyday. 

But, none of it sat right with you. As far as Lara went, Jake had done nothing wrong. He was – is – the perfect dad. You didn’t want his time with her to be limited to a week or two in the Summer when your schedules would allow. That wasn’t good enough for you, for Jake, or for Lara. 

She needed her dad just as much as she needed you. 

It took some convincing, but the judge eventually agreed to split the custody evenly, so long as Jake didn’t move so far away. And you made it known that you would settle for no less than that. The problems with you and Jake were only between you and Jake. That custody agreement would’ve been a punishment for Lara just as much as it would’ve been for Jake, and that wasn’t okay with you in the least. You saw no purpose in taking away most of his parental rights, keeping your daughter from her dad, all because the two of you were incapable of living together. 

Because of your insistence on keeping Lara in Wyoming, Jake sacrificed a lot to ensure he’d seen her as much as possible. He didn’t make the move that he could’ve easily made without being married to you to keep him from doing so. 

He chose to stay close by, a promise he made to your baby that he’d always make her a priority. Living separately, but within close proximity of one another, was the best and only option the two of you found some common ground on. 

Jake kept his job as an assistant photographer, but was made the lead photographer within months of your split. He leases a lovely studio apartment, only a few miles away from your house. You found work as an editor for The Lantern, a small publication that features free-lance writers from all over the country. The job, being something you’ve always had a passion for, made it possible for you to work from home. In spite of it all, after hitting endless bumps in the road, the path eventually smoothed out and led you both to lives of harmony with one another. 

And while you and Jake couldn’t live together, you soon discovered that you could work seamlessly as the perfect co-parenting team when apart. You couldn’t love her – or each other – properly while together, but god, how the two of you shower her with endless, thunderous love on your own. The love you had for one another has transformed into an even deeper love for her, the one that deserves it the most. 

Though it was painful in ways beyond your sweet Lara, the way you and Jake had chosen to raise her was truthfully much better than forcing yourselves to try and sustain a marriage. One that just wasn’t meant to work. A hard pill to swallow, but one that allowed for healing and, most importantly, the promise of the best life you could offer your daughter. 

To be continued

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a/n: the rest will be posted on new years eve 🤍

i do have a taglist for this that i will include when i post the rest, but be sure to let me know if you’d like to be tagged if you’ve not already filled out my form! 🤍