Jake Kiszka Enthusiast

Sam knows, Josh too, Danny even. They all know, and neither of you will let up. You're both too stubborn.

So incredibly, terribly, stubborn.

So stubborn, you don't even classify each other as friends. A month in, a month of hanging out when you can, looking forward to seeing each other, texting late at night, smiling when you see the messages, and still, “not friends”.

So stubborn, that when you are out with everyone else, you won't talk to each other, you won't let others see you interact like that. There was something mildly awkward about it. Everyone knows and is expecting it, yet you won't give it to them.

Part of you thinks it's nice, wanting to stay private with Jake, not wanting to showcase a friendship like that. But, at the same time, it's weird. Especially when everyone is waiting for it. Because everyone knows.

And you just won't admit it.

"It would be so much easier if you just admitted you're friends."

Jake settles back into his chair, looking out into the evening sky with his beer in hand. It was normal for him to space out, get lost in a thought and think deeply about it. He'd been doing it a lot lately, and his mind often became filled with you.

Josh sits nearby with his cigarette, puffing it and flicking the ash. He noticed early on how smitten Jake had gotten, how he almost seemed to have softened a little. A happier look in his eyes, brighter glow on his face. How he looks on stage sometimes, he looks that way a lot now. Particularly so after a meeting with you.

Josh adjusts his position and sits up, leaning in so his elbows are resting on his knees and looks seriously up at Jake, quietly asking, "Are you two hooking up?"

Immediately he's snapped back to reality, frowning deeply at his brother and fiercely shaking his head, "What the fuck? No?"

Josh leans back with his hands up in defense, "I don't know, sorry I asked. You two seem like an item but refuse to be friends so..."

"Fine, we're friends." Jake mutters, sipping from the can and setting it down, "Just get the 'told you so's over with, please."

He chuckles at that, shaking his head and putting the cigarette out, "Not going to do that. But, if you really are friends, I wanna see you actually talk to her next time we go out. Or do you all have some pact that forces you to stay a certain amount of distance from each other in public settings?"

Come to think of it, there was really no discussion about this with you. No agreement to still avoid each other in front of everyone else. It just sort of happened on its own, and Jake's realizing that it is pretty weird. Are you really friends if you're embarrassed about it? Maybe that's why neither of you will admit it. He frowns to himself, thinking it all over.

Are we even really friends then?

He thinks it over, thinking of all the normal friendship things he can. Talking often, seeing each other, enjoying each other's company, telling each other anything and everything. Maybe that last one is a best friend thing, and you two aren't quite at that level yet. That's where you and Sam are.

Except, you haven't been telling him exactly everything lately. He asks about what you and Jake do and of course you tell him, but certain bits are left out. Like, how when he took you bowling a week back, he made you play in the arcade afterwards and won you Betty Boop plush from the claw machine. Or, at the bar, when you ordered a margarita and the tender was generous with the tequila, so he stole your straw and had a sip. Then there was when you went record shopping and you shared the headset to listen to a Stephen Stills record together. Leant in closely, your hand holding one muff while his held the other, and the backs of them pressed together while Love the One You're With played.

How on earth could you tell Sam any of that? How could you tell anyone any of that?

So you don't.

A tiny secret bubbled up inside of you. All those sparks and butterflies fill it up and sometimes you're certain it will burst. There have been close calls, but you're good at keeping it undercover.

"So, you and Jake." He says and it makes you groan every time, "I'm just wondering..."

"We are friends okay. We get along." You huff, standing in line outside the venue.

He scoffs, "I would have never guessed it from the way you all act in front of everyone."

You both step forward as the line flows in, "What d'you mean?"

"Oh, I mean..." he trails off, crossing his arms and looking away from you before glancing back and looking quickly away again. You get the picture, and it makes you shove his arm lightly.

"Yeah, alright, whatever."

"It's like you all are fuckin’ scared of each other now," he laughs, holding his arm where you hit him, "you're allowed to look at him, at least."

You mumble, "I know." That's the problem. You can never just look at Jake anymore. You know there's a gleam in your eye now, one of admiration. You don't even deny your small liking of him, one that's more than just a friendly like.

"So why don't you?" He asks.

"I don't know." You shrug. "He doesn't look at me."

"That's not true." He frowns and shakes his head, stopping with you when the line pauses. You look up at him as he continues, "If anything, he looks only at you."

You blush, so you look away, and he smirks, but he leaves it at that. No need to downright embarrass you. But, for the rest of the night, you remind yourself of that phrase.

Only at me? Well, that just can't be true. Can it?

That following Friday you meet Jake outside the jazz club he suggested you check out together. The truth is he's been here before, and he likes it, and he has his fingers crossed that you will too. When you walk down the sidewalk, he doesn't recognize you for a second, and his eyebrows raise when he realizes that it's you in the tight, black, midi dress and heels walking towards him.

"Whoa," he holds his hands out, looking you over.

You swat your hand at him teasingly, scrunching your nose at his reaction, "Shut it, no compliments. I got far too many on the walk over here."

He smirks as you move some of your hair out of your eyes, your makeup flawless, and even your nails done. He cleaned up nice for tonight too. A fresh shave and his hair tucked into a neat knot at the base of his head, hidden beneath one of his wide brimmed hats which matches his blazer. Even for a formal event, Jake leaves a few buttons undone to showcase his necklaces, and he's still not too good for a pair of jeans.

However, you both look good. You both look good together.

"We make a pretty pair," he smiles, taking your hand in his and not giving you time to react as he swiftly leads you to the entrance, "a pretty late pair at that. You fashionably late?"

"Traffic," you murmur, adjusting your hold on his hand, letting yourself enjoy the warm yet rough feel of it for a moment, "plus, I can't drive in heels."

"I could have picked you up." He hums, leading you down the dimly lit hall, the sounds of saxophone and bass humming through the walls.

This all feels so casually romantic, like you two have spoken like this, touched like this, forever. Even that tone from him is one you have never heard from him before. Casually romantic. Maybe that's what this is...

"And spoil your surprise?" Well that came out differently than you expected.

He looks back at you with an open mouthed, boyish smile of shock, stopping to turn, repeating back, "Surprise?"

His face gives away his thoughts, which cannot be just friend-friendly.

You swallow thickly, staying as cool as you can while you remove your hand from his and flick your hands down your figure, as if to showcase yourself. You were alluding to your recreation of Sandra Bullock's slow-motion walking in Miss Congeniality for him on the street, and it makes a smirk spread on his lips.

He steps forward, being bold with the few inches that separates you two, and quietly asks, "Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?"

You almost lick your lips, then remember your lipstick and stop yourself, staring back into his brown eyes as your chest rises and falls with your uneven breaths. Finding your voice, you shake your head and breathe your reminder back, "I said no compliments."

"Right," he nods, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes study you.

You realize he has the thickest eyelashes and the prettiest pair of lips. He's so close, you can count sun-stained freckles and see faint acne scars from his adolescent years, a time you didn't know Jake Kiszka but you're sure even in your youth you would have dammed yourself by choosing to hate Jake first before loving him. You're so close to him he can see the shimmer on your eyelids, can smell your perfume. It's a new one, he's sure, perfect for the summertime heat. Fresh, citrusy, spicy. It could draw him in if he closed his eyes and forgot that you're standing in the middle of the hall.

And so he continues to lead the way after softly murmuring, "We're already late enough anyway."

Even though he didn't say it, it leaves you blushing. Just the question itself, asking you if he'd told you that you're lovely. In of itself, that's a compliment. He thinks you look lovely tonight; he told you within the question.

But there's nothing else exchanged, he just leads you into the bar and finds a table for two near the back that you claim as yours. Like a gentleman he pulls out your chair and you sit down, and he then softly touches your shoulder and heads over to grab some drinks. You find yourself watching him order rather than the band. Watching isn't the right word though. Your hands clasped and being used as a rest for your chin, a simmering smile on your lips and your chest growing warm. This is admiring.

It isn't until he begins walking back, you stop yourself, and pretend that you've been absorbed in the pianist's solo the entire time. He felt your eyes on him though, and he sets the drink he picked out in front of you. You look at it, then up at him with a raised brow, watching him settle into the chair across the table.

He looks back at you with a smirk as he sips the brown liquor in his glass, undoubtedly whiskey of some sort. You lean forward and ask jokingly through the music, "This isn't spiked, is it?"

"It's literally just an alcoholic beverage, Y/N." He murmurs back into his glass.

You roll your eyes, hand grabbing your glass and bringing it to your lips as you ask, "Well, yeah, but you didn't poison it?"

An older man nearby, with a funny tie and receding hairline, glances back at you with a glare. You sink sheepishly into your chair, silencing yourself with a sip. Jake frowns at the grump as he turns away and then decides to stretch his leg over to hook his ankle around the leg of your chair. Then, effortlessly and silently, he tugs you and your chair over to him and smoothly drapes his arm across the back of it, the two of you facing the small stage together.

"It isn't poisoned, by the way." He speaks low, only loud enough for you to hear.

You smile into your glass and nod, whispering back, "Figured."

You look down at his hand holding the whiskey glass against his inner thigh, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. Then, turning, you look down at where his free hand dangles off the back of your chair. So close to touching you but not. Part of you wishes he would.

"Now we can talk without getting noise complaints." His voice calls you back.

You smile, looking downward at your lap then up to him, "Maybe we should just listen to the music."

He watches you as you look back up to the lit stage, and he doesn't look away for a few seconds. His hand, the one dangling to your left, contemplates touching your shoulder. It lifts and stalls, his fingers stretching then curling into his palm, before he decides to set it back down. He turns his head and looks at the floor, then lifts it up and gazes at the band, doing as you say, and listening to the music with you.

He's been here before, seen this band before, but tonight, for some reason, the music sounds especially good. He decides it's because he's there with you.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him tap his foot to the beat, his head nodding along just barely. It makes you smile, subconsciously tilting your head towards his, leaning closer to him. Jake can never sit still in general, put him in a room with music though and all efforts fly out the window. You can't deny a good beat either though, and your hands clap with the crowd after a mean trumpet solo that leaves you with goosebumps. Jake brings his fingers to his lips and lets out an appreciative whistle before laying his arm back on your chair, his hand brushing your shoulder, before finally resting there.

Like a pair of kids, you both flush and bite back smiles, over the moon that he's just touching you, and you're letting him. And like angsty teens you both act like it's no big deal. And like adults, you slowly look over at each other, and share a smile.

Mature, grown-ups. It's as if there never was a grudge to begin with.

The show comes to an end, and the venue stays open all night with more sets and bands and acts, but the two of you head outside. It's only 9 o'clock, and Jake could stay out all night, but he knows you prefer nights in anyway, how you enjoy yourself better one-on-one rather in a large crowd or a group. Early on he discovered that when he's with you, he likes it just being you and him. No pressure, no eyes, just you with him, and him with you.

"What did you think?" He asks, leaning back against the brick of the building. Jazz enthusiasts make their way inside as he digs into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out a pack.

You nod with a thoughtful smile, "It was cool. Never expected you to be so into jazz."

He shrugs his shoulders, pulling a cigarette out and placing it between his lips. Looking up at you, he raises his brows and shakes the package, silently offering you one which you shake your head at. A smirk appears on his lips, tucking the cigarettes back into his pocket and fishing out a lighter. You watch him silently as he takes a puff and exhales the smoke away from you.

"You know what Josh asked me the other day?" He asks, his eyes looking down at the sidewalk. Your eyes linger on his cigarette, so he extends his two fingers out to you and you hesitantly take it, taking a drag from it.

"What?" You blow the smoke past your lips as you reply, taking another inhale before giving it back.

His lips crack into a grin that makes your stomach flip, voice deep with a chuckle, "He said this, okay? Not me."

"What is it?" You step forward with your own interested smile.

Josh says a lot of things, you wonder what crazy idea or thought popped into his head this time.

He bites his lip, telling you, "He asked if we were hooking up."

Your eyes widen and out of nervousness, you let out an unattractive cackle. Head tilted back, eyes shut, mouth hanging open, you hope that your display of amusement disguises your shock. He breathes out through his nose in a laugh, bringing his cigarette back to his lips and sucking on the end of it, watching you laugh.

When you look back at him, catching your breath, you sigh out the one word, "Never."

Ignoring the gentle pang he feels in his heart, he nods along, "Well that's what I said."

God why does that make your own heart chip?

You go along with it, "Why would he even ask that? I mean, we're friends."

He shrugs, "He doesn't think men and women can just be friends, I guess. Which makes no sense... he also said something about having never seen us interact in public." You stick your hand out, silently asking for the cigarette which he raises his brow at and tilts his head, "Don't get greedy with it now."

Your nose scrunches up and he finally passes it back to you, and you softly mumble, "Why does he have to see us interact?"

"He's a psycho." Jake mumbles, making you giggle and place the cig in your mouth. He watches your lips pucker and the smoke float out past your lips. He wets his own lips with a swipe of his tongue before saying, "I may have also agreed to give him exactly what he wants though."

Your eyebrows pull together, "Which is?"

"An interaction."

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." you mutter, turning away from him with the cigarette.

"Hey," he follows, stepping around you so you're face to face again, his hands reach out and hold your upper arms, "it's not a big deal."

"I know it's not," you sigh, looking down the street at the headlights on cars that pass, "it's not a big deal for us, it's not a big deal in general. It's just the fact that it's a big deal to him."

"I figured if we just go ahead and give him what he wants, we can shut him up," his hands fall from you just as you finish off the cigarette, "he loves to tease."

"So does Sam." You mumble and drop the butt to the sidewalk and like a gentleman he steps on it.

You think back to the night you went out with him, how he looked at you with knowing eyes. So much like Jake's, but so different.

"What does he say?" He asks, and you shrug.

"He's just... very observant." You decide is the best way to describe him, "Your brothers have perceptive eyes."

"And what does he observe?" His voice is low, smooth and soft. Warm. Tender. Sweet. Etcetera.

It makes you cheeks warm and you look to him before away once more, "He says we act like we're scared of each other. At least when we're in a group."

"I'm not scared of you." He shakes his head, stepping forward.

"I know," you hum and finally, actually, look at him, "but apparently that's how we behave."

"So," he steps back, crossing his arms and leaning his weight to the side, "we are terrified of each other while simultaneously sleeping together?"

You laugh, and overhead thunder softly sounds but neither of you notice it, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Apparently."

He smiles and returns closer to you, it's like your laughter is a magnet, and he says with a softened voice, "We don't owe anyone anything, but let's just try next time we all go out together, yeah? Prove them wrong."

"Oh, anything to debunk Samuel."

The two of you end up lingering outside together a little longer. The conversation revolving around how you're going to stage this interaction and when as clouds gather overhead. He makes you laugh, coming up with obnoxious scenarios such as what you should do if Willie Nelson shows up or if perhaps it starts to snow ice cream.

"What flavor?" You joke along.

He pretends to think it over, "Mint chocolate chip."

"Oh right, of course."

"You know," he sighs contentedly as he leans back against the lamppost behind him, "we have really good conversations."

You can't help the laugh that escapes you, "Yes, our talks about ice cream snow are super intelligent."

He rolls his eyes with a smile dangling on his lips and he waves you off, "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" You tease once again.

You do though. You know exactly what he means. You can have these talks with Jake that will leave you buzzing afterward. That will cast a semipermanent smile on your lips for the rest of the day. That will make you get in your car and instead of playing music, you just replay the conversation over and over in your mind.

He grunts as he pushes himself away from the post and comes forward, "I don't know. I feel like when we talk, we talk for hours, even if it's just a few minutes. And when we get done talking, I don't want it to stop."

Your lips part as you look up at him. You'd laugh out of nervousness if you could, but it's those same nerves are causing you to stand there silently. Slow thunder rolls again and it goes ignored just as the first time.

"Oh," you nod, taking in how close he is to you, "yeah. I get that."

His mouth hooks upward as he stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, "I also wanted to talk to you about something."

You're slightly lost in a Jake Kiszka mist, his eyes making your brain dance all hazy, and you let out a soft, "Mhm?"

"Are you busy next weekend?"

You shake your head.

"You don't have to say yes or anything, but, I've been wanting to go up to the cabin. I remember how much you enjoyed it that one time with all of us, you wanna go again?" He asks, a hopefulness in his voice, his bottom lip caught between his pretty teeth.

You weren't expecting that, honestly, but it makes your eyebrows raise with excitement, and immediately you nod your head, "Yes. Oh my gosh, yes. I love the mountains."

You recall the spring before last, when you made the trip to the smokies with your group and how much fun you had. Despite Jake being there, you two kept your distance that time, but now you're sure it will be even better. With all your friends, him included. You could hardly wait.

"Everyone else will be there?" You ask, watching as he scratches the back of his neck and looks down at his shoes.

He mumbles under his breath, "...No."

"Oh," you speak like a bubble being burst. Quick. Light. Popped. Oh. "Wait, so, just us?"

He shrugs, and slowly nods his head, "If you're okay with that."

"I just," your head moves side to side as you search for the right words to say, "I mean, I am, but what will everyone else think?"

"They don't have to know." His words come out in a hushed whisper, as if to prove his point of this being a secret.

It makes you smile, how impossible this sounds. You both being out of town at the same time. Jake at the cabin and you... where? What will the lie be? And when you get back how will you cover it up? Not to mention, what will occur on this weekend tucked away in a wooden cabin with just Jake?

You tilt your chin up to him, "Do you have a plan?"

"I do, actually." He grins.

"What's your plan, Jake?" You hum.

He likes your voice when you talk like that. Quite a lot.

Sucking in a deep breath, he tells you, "I'll be going to a guitar convention, and you'll be visiting family."

"How convenient we'll both be out of town for the same amount of time." You can't help but giggle at the madness of it all, "And what if we get caught? What if Josh or Sam decides to pay the cabin a little visit? Hm?"

"Then we're caught," he shakes his head as he talks, "they'll catch just two friends spending time together in the mountains. Nothing more."

Nothing more.

He's right. It really is nothing more than that. So you begin to nod in agreement then slowly tilt your head to the side. The eyes you give him make his heart thump, why must you look at him so sweet? You're both so caught up in your conversation that you don't realize raindrops have begun to sprinkle here and there.

"So, if we're friends, we really shouldn't have to come up with a lie then, right?"

Wind passes through you two as he nods and says, "They'd never believe us anyway."

Because who would? People passing by right now probably wouldn't even guess that you two are just friends. Just friends don't dress up and go to jazz bars. Just friends don't stand so close on the sidewalk. Just friends don't look at each other how you're looking right now. And just friends most definitely do not run off to the mountains alone together for a weekend.

So yes, you can claim you and Jake are friends, but are you really?

Yes, we are. You're determined to prove them all wrong. He is a friend that I have a crush on.

He watches your eyes turn. Once starry, full of admiration, now stubborn. He wonders what you're thinking about.

However, all thoughts, both in your mind and his, come to a halt when fat, cold drops of rain splatter on your arm, and by the time you both look up, a downpour has occurred. The two of you start to walk down the sidewalk, but quickly pick up the pace to a jog as lightning flashes and rain soaks you.

He goes to turn into the parking lot behind the building, but you keep going straight, so he stops, "Where are you going?!"

You turn to him, squinting through the thick rain and yelling back over the sound of it, "To my car?"

"Get in mine." He grabs your wet hand in his, pulling you into the parking lot. "You had to park down the block, huh?"

You jog in step with him, hands still interlocked, "Two blocks actually."

He wheezes out a laugh, and you look over at him. His hat helps him out immensely, but everywhere else he's soaked. You on the other hand, have no protection, and your makeup and hair are ruined. The wind picks up, the fabric of your clothes sticks to your bodies, and Jake's hat flies off into a puddle. You let go, and chase after it.

"It's just a hat!" He in turn chases after you now.

"It's your hat!" You laugh, totally unbothered by the fact that your clothes are soaked down to your skin.

You pick it up and turn back, running with him the rest of the way. He quickly unlocks his car and opens the passenger side door for you, slamming it shut once you're sat down. Sitting there in the silence, you listen to your panting breaths and the sound of rain hitting the car's windshield and roof as you watch him jog around the front. You look down at the hat pinched between your fingers and try not to think too hard.

It takes everything in you not to look at your reflection in the sun visor mirror. Takes everything in you to ignore the way your dress hugs you even tighter now.

The sound of rain hitting pavement bursts through the doorway as he gets in and shuts the door behind him, slouching in his seat and sighing out as his eyes shut. You look over at him, subtly admiring his profile. How... sensual he looks. Soaked, hair sticking to his scalp and the side of his face. Water droplets stream down his cheeks and neck, disappearing beneath the material of his shirt. His lips are parted so he can get his heavy breaths in and out easily. The sound of his panting...

You press his hat against his chest, and it makes him open his eyes and look down at it with chuckle. It makes you smile, the deepness of it, and your hand tingles when his fingertips brush over the back of it as he takes the accessory from you. Sitting back, you expect him to place it in the backseat, but instead, he sets it on your head, running his fingertip along the brim of it and sitting back. Taking his time admiring you.

"There we go." He murmurs, looking you over shamelessly.

You know you don't look as put together as you did earlier, but you can tell that he doesn't mind. In fact, maybe he even likes how you look now better. Skin shiny from the water, makeup runny, hair damp beneath his hat, and the slight chill in the air causing goosebumps to rise. His eyes should warm you up, with how they are just blazing over every inch of you, but if anything, it makes a shiver roll up your spine. You notice when they linger at your chest, and of course it's because your nipples have hardened in the cold.

"You don't want your hat?" You whisper, though you don't know why.

You should speak up with the rain clanging against the metal, but you don't. It's as if you don't want to raise your voice in a moment like this. So close to him, yet not close enough. Close enough to whisper, but not for a kiss.

"It kind of suits you." He hums, "Like a crown."

Your lips twist in an effort to hide your flustered smile. What a vague way- or maybe just a Jake way- to call you a princess, or perhaps a queen. Queen is what he's going for, he knows he would have said tiara if he wanted to compare you to a princess. To him though, you look regal. Something close to a fearless leader that just got done with battle. There's a softness to it too, it's your gentle smile and shining eyes.

"Well, I won't steal your finest helmet, Sir Jacob. Perhaps you can loan me an aged one instead." You take it off, much to his dismay, and set it carefully in your lap.

He smirks at your show of a cockney accent, nodding softly, speaking just as soft, "I'll see what I can spare."

While waiting out the rain, the two of you sit and talk about dumb stuff. A new sushi house that opened nearby, how your favorite grocery store rearranged everything so you can't ever find what you need, what eyeliner he's been testing out for the stage. You tell him you'll help him practice and he says he'll hold you to it. You hope he does. Then, the rain lets up, and it slightly disappoints you both, because you know that means your talking time is over.

While he drives you drag out the conversation as much as you can, and he smiles and nods at every word you say until he slows and stops beside your car. You sigh and look over at him.

"I know what you mean, what you said earlier." Your blink softly at him as you lean your head back against the headrest.

"What?" He hums.

"How when we get done talking, I don't want it to stop. I wish I could talk to you forever sometimes." What the confession.

His lips twitch, and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes, "Just me?"

"I said sometimes." You sit up, unbuckling your seatbelt, running a hand through your knotted hair as you joke, "Don't let your ego skyrocket."

"Oh, my heart," he sets his hand on his chest as you open your door with a laugh, "it hurts. You broke it."

You glance over your shoulder as you get out, "Bye, Jake."

"Hey," he says just before you shut the door, making you look back with a confused stare. He leans his elbow on the center console and looks up at you with a toothy grin, slowly saying with his voice deep and soft, "you look beautiful."

You snort, making his grin widen, "I said no complimenting," and add in a teasing, airy voice before shutting the door, "stop hitting on me Kiszka."

He watches you through the rain-streaked window as you get in your car and wave goodbye to him through yours. He smiles and waves back, before driving off. How he's going to last two whole days alone with you? Fuck if he knows.

And these are the moments where you wish someone else knew. You wish you could call someone as soon as you're alone in your car and squeal into the phone with excitement. You wish you could have them sit on your bed as you pack your bag for the weekend in the mountains. To share that excitement with someone, that's all you want.

But this is a secret, and it has been for a while.

So instead you drive home with the biggest grin on your face, listening to your favorite music, and skipping up the steps to your front door. Your neighbors must think you're insane, dancing as you unlock the door in your soaked dress and wet hair. As soon as you're inside, just like in the movies, you close the door, lean back against it and slide down to the floor with a happy sigh.

Next weekend couldn't get here soon enough.

Packing was relatively easy, you imagine you'll go hiking, so comfy clothes is a must. From your sock drawer, you toss a few pairs into your duffel, and then a sports bra before your eyes linger towards the back of the drawer. Silk and lace and chiffon. Tiny scraps of fabric that are strictly reserved for those especially special moments. Is this weekend special?

No. Because he is your friend. This isn't special, this is normal. It feels so wrong to call anything you do with Jake not special, as if it's unimportant. This weekend is so important to you, time with Jake is always important. He is important.

You slam the drawer shut and turn away from it, zipping up your packed bag and setting it on the floor at the foot of your bed. How are you ever going to prove to Josh and Sam that you're just friends if you're contemplating packing a matching set for Jake?

That night you can hardly sleep though, thoughts of Jake and the excitement in your stomach for this weekend keeping you awake. In the morning, you're greeted outside by Jake and his car, and a coffee in your cup holder.

"Thank you." You sigh, sinking into your seat as you click your seatbelt and take a sip.

He grins over at you as he puts the car into drive and starts down the road, "Thanks for agreeing to be locked up with me for a weekend."

"Hmm, you act like we aren't obsessed with each other." Your lip catches against the lid of your to-go cup. "This weekend is going to be fantastic."

He smiles softly as he keeps his eyes ahead of him, both hands on the wheel, careful with you in the passenger seat. You take note of it too, how he obeys all traffic laws, uses his turn signal, slows down at the turns.

"Cross your fingers for good weather," he says pointing a finger towards the overcast sky, "might rain a little."

You shrug, because honestly, you could get snowed in and you'd be fine with it, because you'd be snowed in with Jake. You couldn't think of a more perfect position you'd rather be in honestly. Hours alone with him, ages to just talk and talk and talk. That's all you've ever wanted to do with him, talk late into the night without a worry about having to put it to an end.

In the couple of hours it takes for you all to get there, you do just that: talk. Chatting about whatever has been going on recently, music, work. You point out interesting sights you see out your window, he reads all the weird bumper stickers he sees out loud. Even climbing up the mountain, you softly talk about random things. Then, he pulls onto the gravel driveway outside the log cabin and parks the car.

"Well that was fast." You breathe out a laugh, not even realizing it had been roughly two hours on the road.

"I need to bring you on tour with us," he jokes, opening his door and stepping out, of course jogging around to your door and opening it before you get the chance to do it yourself, "talking with you makes road-trips feel like teleportation."

You scoff as you stand up and he shuts your door. However the thought of you going away, further, with him, it makes your stomach turn. You'd love it, you'd love to see Jake in a new city, out of his element, somewhere far away. You probably wouldn't even feel homesick, as long as he's at your side.

He retrieves both your bags as well as his guitar case, refusing to let you carry your own, because of course he's a gentleman even to his friends, and gives you the honor of unlocking the front door. When you do, you step in and open the door fully for him, and he sets your bags down by the door which swings shut.

The cabin is just as cozy as it's always been. Nothing too extravagant, a quaint little place with the best view. You always took the bedroom off the back of the cabin so when you wake up you would see the mountains, and you plan on dropping your bag off in there later. But right now, the two of you walk towards the back balcony so you can check out the sight together.

He sets his palms on the banister, taking a deep inhale and exhale as he scans the landscape. Mountains for miles, now uncovered from their foggy mist in the afternoon. Normal people would be enjoying the view, you can't take your eyes off him though.

"Is there something on my face?" He asks, catching you in the act of staring.

"No? No." You look away quickly, pretending to absorbed by the range. You should be, this is gorgeous. But Jake Kiszka is gorgeous too, so then again, what makes the mountains so special?

He doesn't really mind your wandering eyes, honestly. Actually, he quite likes the attention.

In the distance, you spot the darkened clouds Jake warned you about earlier, and it makes you straighten your posture and nod towards them. He looks and sees them too, giving you a small nod of acknowledgment.

"Seems like we almost always get rained out." He chides softly.

You nod, looking at the balcony, the rocking chairs out here, the small table for two. You picture yourself drinking coffee out here in the morning, and in the vision, Jake is sitting there with you.

"Maybe it won't last long."

Soon after, you retreat inside, because the torrential downpour begins. While you stare out at the rain, watching the fog roll in with it, Jake steps around in the kitchen, whipping something up for lunch. You get mesmerized by the white clouds that appear, so close you could almost touch them if you stretched your arm out enough. Thunder makes you step away from the glass, and instead join Jake at the counter.

There are worse places you could be, and you honestly couldn't imagine a better situation to be stuck in. Rained in by a storm just with Jake. It makes you think back to last weekend when he grabbed your hand and ran with you to his car, how he looked at you in his passenger seat and watched you through rain-streaked car windows.

Using the back of his finger, he slyly slides a plate in front of you, grabbing your attention that was staring out the window above the sink. Sam had told plenty of times that Jake is a fantastic cook, and Jake himself has prided himself in that too, but always thought they were over exaggerating it. Looking down in front of you though, you're pleasantly surprised by the dish presented.

A neat sandwich on some sort of fancy looking bread, is that brioche? Then beside it, a small, finely cut selection of fruits. Strawberry, kiwi, mango, and grapes. You look over to him with a small smile, and he sheepishly keeps his eyes away from yours.

"You spoil me." You say, hands moving down to grab your plate, "Can we watch the rain while we eat?"

He looks up and nods, grabbing his own, leading the way towards the two chairs by the window with the side table in between them. You both lean over your arm rests as you eat together, eyes trained on the rain. It isn't going to be stopping any time soon, in fact, it's coming down harder and harder. The wind howls, thunder booms, rain pounds against the roof.

"Sorry it's keeping us cooped up." He sighs after finishing off his lunch, slouching into his seat.

You wave it off, "Rain up here is different from rain in Nashville."

He nods, then asks, "You're not tired of me yet?"

You breathe out a quick laugh, shaking your head as you stand and take his plate, setting it on top of yours, "No, are you kidding?"

He sits up, watching you walk away. It was fun being with you here, just with you. It was... interesting watching you walk around. Bare feet padding against the wood floor, in comfy shorts and an oversized t-shirt, talking to him so casual, taking his plate for him after he made lunch for you. He wants to make dinner and breakfast for you too, eat it with you, maybe even surprise you with a tray in bed.

Domesticity, it's something he's never set his sights on for too long. But with you, like this, with him, he doesn't want to imagine life any of their way.

After setting the plates in the sink, you look at him over your shoulder, "I'm gonna go claim my bedroom."

"Claim?" He scoffs, now standing up to grab his own things from the doorway.

"Yeah, I have my favorite room."

"The room off the back."

You look up at him as you bend down to grab the handles of your bag. Then, holding eye contact, you slowly stand up straight and nod your head.

He remembers, because before you came along to their friend group, that was always his room. Josh and Sam teased him relentlessly for it, how Y/N stole his bed, but Jake would never confront you about it. It seemed unnecessary, and honestly you never talked to each other anyway, so he had no idea how to bring it up. However, now, well, now he can do something about it.

"You don't want the master?" He asks.

You shrug, raising a brow at him, "Don't you?"

"Well, I do like the view in that one room..."

Both your eyebrows raise, "Jake, don't tell me you want to take my bedroom."

"Yours?" A grin crawls across his face, the right side of his mouth hitched up higher than the left, "I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, dear."

Your face softens as you come to the realization, that's not your room. It never was, but Jake let you have it for some reason. Now, it seems, he wants it back.

Also, dear? You'd answer why that makes your pulse quicken, but you know why. It's a mixture of his voice and smile and eyes. His eyes, looking at you. His smile, beaming at you. His voice, talking to you.

"You can take it." The way your voice comes out almost breathlessly pitched leaves you embarrassed, but it's a good thing that you're already heading down the hall anyway.

It's convenient that the master bedroom is just across the hall from your usual spot, Jake's old usual spot. When you get inside you shut the door, just needing a half a second of privacy to catching your breath as you flop face down onto the mattress. He let you take his fucking bedroom this whole time, and you didn't even know.

You take your time laying there, assessing it all. How slightly embarrassing it, how slightly irritating it is. Because, yes that's his room but shit you love that view. Hey, at least you have the en-suite bathroom! You lift your head and look over at the door leading to the shower and toilet before dropping it back to the quilt.

How would you feel a year ago, hell even a few months ago, about that? Knowing you got excited to sleep in the room that was deemed Jake's, knowing you slept in that bed that was his. You wonder if all the times they came up here without you, he still took that room, or did he see it as tainted by you?

He walks into his bedroom, setting his bag down and looking around. Immediately, he steps toward the window, placing his hands on the sill and gazing outside. While you lay in contemplation, Jake admires the view without a second thought. It wasn't as big of a deal to him for some reason.

Rolling over onto your back, you reach your hands over your head and stretch, blinking at the ceiling before sitting up. Might as well get a few things tidy in here for the evening, who even knows what the rest of today will hold. When you're finished setting everything away and giving yourself a mini pep talk in the mirror, you head back out to the living area.

The sound of light strumming draws you in close, and as you step into the room, you spot Jake hunched over his acoustic guitar. You approach him from behind as he sits on the couch, playing some melody, you're not sure what. Perhaps a new song, or something that just popped into his head.

As you round the couch, he lifts his head and smiles when he sees you. His strumming doesn't even stumble for a second, keeps playing as though nothing as interrupted him at all, and it nearly puts you in a trance. You sit down at the seat diagonal from him, watching his wrist move up and down, and then flicking your vision over to his left hand. His fingers move skillfully over the strings, not a single flinch from him. You know your fingertips would be screaming, but he does it all so effortlessly.

How? Literally, how?

He grins, "Enjoying the serenade?"

You nod your head, then tilt it with a coy smile, "Don't you have to be singing in order for it to be a serenade?"

He purses his lips to the side with a shake of his head and a shrug, "No, I don't think so. I don't sing."

"Not even for me?" You hum in a teasing tone, but there's a hint of a hopeful lilt in it.

Truth is, you would love to hear Jake sing. Josh of course was blessed with the vocal cords of an angel, but you'd imagine Jake would bestow that talent as well. Even just a little humming, you'd enjoy.

He licks his lips, contemplating it for a second, then shaking his head and wrapping up the guitar playing. You pout softly when it's finished and he sets his guitar aside, you've never seen Jake play like that before. Just for you.

Wondering when you'll get to experience it again leaves you disappointed in its absence, so you get up and join him on the couch.

"What now?" You ask, watching as he glances out the window and back to you.

He smiles softly, "I guess our options are limited."

"What, no hiking in the monsoon?"

He shakes his head at you, grin widening, "I didn't pack my rain boots."

You take a sigh and lay your head back, "Looks like we're stuck." Slowly, you turn to look at him, softly adding, "I don't mind though."

He hopes you can't also feel his heart skip a beat, or maybe he does. Maybe he wants you to know... do you know? Does he... know? His face grows hot, and spreads across his entire body to the point where he's sure he looks a little red.

You notice the blush, and it makes you wonder yourself. Does he?... There's no way. There has to be no way, because you're friends.

The couch is too small. The room is shrinking. Everything is too close, and you can't get away. You're not sure if you necessarily want to, but, it's Jake.

"Do you..." his voice trails off and he finds himself stumbling over his own feet as he stands, walking quickly to the kitchen, "uh, I'm getting water."

"You do that!" You breathe out a laugh before getting up and speed walking down the hall, "I have to use the bathroom! Haha!" You basically slam the door shut behind you, your breathing uneven and your face flushed. "What the fuck?"

With both his hands planted on the counter he stares down the drain in the sink, mind racing. She does, she has to. She... likes me? But then come those other thoughts, the same thoughts you're having now in the bathroom, but what if I'm just overthinking it?

Simultaneously, in an effort to snap out of it, you both splash water onto your faces and gasp for air as you stand up. Thunder rolls, and the lights flicker, once, twice, gone.

"Shit!"

"Hey, hey Josh. I said hi. Hello?" He paces back and forth over the rug in the now dimly lit living room, and you can't help but watch with a smirk. This was all so ridiculous. "Yeah, no. Yeah I can hear you. Wait, no I can't. Hold on..." he looks at you with a frenzied grin and slips out onto the balcony, hoping that he'll get better service there, but it seems to not do the trick. You watch him through the windows as he pulls his phone away and end the call, setting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath.

So badly, you just want to go out there with him, place your hands in his tense shoulders, and relax them. Wind your arms around his waist from behind and hold him to you, feel his hands touch yours and press your ear to his back, listening to him let out a deep exhale. You want him to tell you all his worries, all his thoughts that stress him. Want to know all his secrets until there are none left and it's just him. Until you just know him and love him for all he is.

Wait, what?

"No connection?" Your voice hardly wavers when he returns, as if you were just daydream of what his love feels like.

He nods and sets his phone down on the coffee table, it being deemed useless now with no service. "Guess we're too far up. It's okay. Electronic free weekend I guess."

Your lips twitch at that, "We're really committed to this mountain people bit, aren't we? No light, no electricity."

He chuckles, sitting with you, rather close. You shift in your spot but try to be discreet about it. It was one thing to like Jake, and know you like him, are attracted to him. But it's a completely separate thing to know he likes you back. You're not even positive about that part, you have no real proof or evidence, just a hunch. Give you an inch and you'll take it a mile though, that flushed face wasn't one of embarrassment or shyness, it was one of liking. Longing.

"Shall I start a fire? Go hunt for our dinner?"

He's grown very fond of the sound of your laugh over the course of your freshly bloomed friendship, but now he loves knowing he's the one that makes that laughter occur. He'd do anything he can to make you laugh. All for that sound, all for knowing he caused it. It's a sense of praise, if you will. Let's him know that you think he's funny. Reminds him that you like him.

You do like him.

It's only early afternoon, you've still got an entire even then another day and a half with Jake. You make the decision rather quickly that you don't want the tension to ruin this trip.

"Fire sounds nice actually," the rain brought a chill with it despite it being summer, "keep ourselves entertained like the cavemen."

It's his turn to laugh, causing pride to bloom in your chest the same way it does for him. So while he gets up and messes with the fireplace, you wander around the cabin a little, looking for something to keep you occupied.

There is the liquor cabinet... it’s pretty sparse though. Plus, you can't justify drinking so early, even locked up with nothing else to do. Old board games with half the cards or pieces missing sit abandoned on a shelf. Books, and lots of them, decorate bookshelves, and you end up spending a good five minutes reading their spines, taking ones down to read the back, and collecting an armful.

You're not sure if Jake is a bookworm like yourself. Surely, he's into biographies or pirate tales, so you grab a novel on John Denver and a fantasy one involving knights and far off kingdoms. However, you take the romance supply, which is slim pickings. One book set in the 1800s about a farmer and a wife having an affair, and the other is Priscilla Presley's Elvis and Me.

Well, there's nothing else to do.

When you return the fireplace is aglow and Jake has taken back to picking his guitar. You walk up to the coffee table with your stack and set them down. He looks up, still mindlessly fingering the strings, and lifts a brow at the tidings you bring.

"Went exploring?"

"Something like that," you sigh, looking between your two options and ultimately deciding to learn more about Elvis and Priscilla's infamous relationship. Coming to the opposite end of the couch, you sit and make yourself comfortable with your novel of choice, "you have a wide range of terrible books here."

He sits up, looking at the selection you brought him, "You think I'm going to read?"

Flipping to the first page you look at him with eyes that make his blood flow race, and shrug softly, "I am. How else are we to stay occupied?"

He could think of a couple of ways.

"I dunno," he looks over his shoulder then back to you, "check the bar cart?"

"I did," you hum, voice so sweet it tempts him to lean over and taste your lips, "decided drinking should be our last resort for entertainment."

He watches you turn the pages and begin reading. Lost in the words, becoming absorbed by this book, despite how random and so not your style it is, you still make an effort to try. He admires that about you, your optimism, willingness.

"How can you even see the words?" He asks, eyes glancing about at the burning fire, "Go sit by the fire, you'll see better."

"I'm good." You say, eyes stuck on the page before you. Truth is, you aren't really reading. It's hard to pay attention with Jake right there, incredibly difficult to even comprehend words at all by his side. Maybe you should go over to the hearth, create some distance between you two.

"You're straining your eyes," his guitar playing slows and softens.

He cares about you and your vision. Awww.

You look up at him and narrow your eyes teasingly, "You're interrupting my reading."

"You really want to read about..." he tilts his head then, reaches over, snatching the book from your hands which earns him a 'hey!' from you as he analyzes the cover, "seriously? Elvis and Me?"

"Like I said-!" You reach forward to get the book back but he tosses it behind him so it lands on the floor. You sit back with a glare and grumble, "terrible book selection."

"Stop reading and talk to me." He says. It's almost whiney.

"What should we talk about?" You ask, crossing your arms, waiting for him to pick a topic.

With your full attention on him, he says and ends up looking away, out the rainy windows. "I don't know."

You scoff, turning your body and laying your head back on the arm rest, stretching your legs across the cushions of the couch. He looks at your long limbs, how soft and smooth they look, wanting to run his fingers over the expanse of them, spread them apart. He sits up straight, trying to push those thoughts out of his brain. That's no way for him to think of a friend, a friend who may or may not like him and think the same thoughts about himself.

Sometimes you wish you could see inside his mind, wander around his thoughts. Jake so often never truly says what he feels, dances around questions with big, fancy words that you look up in dictionaries later. You want to know what he feels.

"Tell me a story," you finally say in the sweetest voice, "one from tour."

"I..." he searches his brain, but it's taken up by you, "uh, in... Atlantic City, I think, Josh got locked out of his hotel room in just a bath towel."

You laugh at that, lifting your head to look at him, "Sammy told me that, I got a long, overly detailed text from him about how you stole his towel?"

His smirk widens, "Chased me naked down the hall."

You laugh some more at the very idea, "Hopefully he doesn't try calling me. If I don't answer... he'll probably assume we're together."

"They already assume that," he looks away, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, "it's unavoidable."

You nod. You wish it was avoidable. It was so... limiting. Pressurizing. This thing you have for Jake, you want it to grow authentically. You want it to bloom naturally. Expectant eyes don't help with it, makes it feel forced in a way.

Like, if you tell Jake how you feel, you'll just be giving the others what they want. But if you don't, they'll think you're lying about being friends anyway. Also, if you don't, you'll be forcing yourself to pretend you don't feel anything for him. And you do, you feel so much.

"Okay," you bend your legs at the knee and claps your hands together, "continue with your storytelling."

"I don't know what else to tell you." He chuckles.

"What are your preshow rituals?"

"Drinking."

"Oh, wow." You let out flatly.

He grins at you, loving the reaction, and defends himself in a pitched-up voice, "Helps with the nerves!"

"But like," you sit up, "do you have a routine? Like what must you do before ever show for good luck?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I..." there he goes trailing off again. It's hard to get all his thoughts in order, you're his best distractor. Finally, he thinks of it, "I have to walk around the venue. Have to. Of course I walk around the stage but, I gotta go out onto the floor and into the seats, all the way to the furthest one back. I like to sit there and just look at it all. It's weird to think about."

He's really opened up now, and you try to keep your smile undercover as you ask, "About what?"

"That someone would sit in the very last row at our show." His eyes meet yours, "I wouldn't really think we'd be worth it."

Your eyebrows raise and you move to sit on your knees with a gasp, "You're so worth it."

His lips tilt into a surprised, open-mouthed smile. Say it again, he wishes to whisper, but honestly, he's too shocked. Those words from you mean so much to him.

"I know that I, in the past, was a bitch, but, when I went to your shows, I mean it was undeniable even then, Jake," your voice softens and he leans in to hear you better, "you're incredibly talented. You have this insane gift and it's mesmerizing. You capture everyone's attention, tell a story just through your playing, it's captivating."

"Thank you," his voice comes out nearly in a whisper.

"You're welcome." You nod.

All of the sudden, he knows that if he doesn't get away from you now, he might do something regretful. He hates that kissing you might be a poor decision but doesn't want to dwell on it for too long, because you're like a magnet for him. So, he stands up and leans the guitar against the coffee table.

"I need a drink." He turns and begins to make his way to the liquor selection, "You too."

"Not really." You hear him open the cabinet and grab too crystal glasses, "But if you're gonna make me a drink make sure it's not a disgusting one."

"You're not a whisky girl?" He teases.

Only if it's on your lips.

"You know I'm not." You cackle. Whenever you go out for drinks, he pokes you for your choice of sweet cocktails that taste nothing like alcohol.

He knows enough about you, but some things are missing. You want to pour everything out to him. Like a backpack, full of random, miscellaneous items, you just wanna dump it all out for him to flip over and take into his hands and look at. He knows you, but you want him to understand. You want him to know every little thing, just as you want to know every little thing about him.

When he returns, he hands you your glass and watches you take a sip. It's surprisingly delicious, making you give it a thoughtful nod and you look up at him. He extends his glass towards you for a cheers, and you tap yours against his with a grin.

"Wait, before you sit," you stop as he begins to walk around the couch, "we need pen and paper."

"For what?" His brow furrows.

"I have an idea for a game we can play. Are you feeling brave?"

He looks down at the brown liquid in his glass then to you with a shrug, "Probably will in a few. I'll go grab some paper."

When he returns for a second time though, he ends up distracting you with a tour story he thought up while looking for pens. Something about fans wanting an autograph and all four of them ending up signing a bald man's head. It leaves you gasping for air as you laugh, and the conversation takes off from there. More drinks are poured, and by the time you've remembered your game idea, you're on your third glass.

"Wait, the paper." You tap his knee and move to grab the sheets, handing him his which he thanks you for, "You ready?"

"What exactly is this game of yours?" He licks his lips and clicks his pen.

"Write down three questions you've always wanted to know about the other. Make them juicy and bold. The other has to answer truthfully." Your words pop like bubbles with giggles in between.

He smiles questioningly at you and asks, "Okay, well, what if I don't want to answer?"

"Then you need to drink up and then answer." The simple response makes him snort and shake his head at you, watching as you number your paper and begin writing.

"Something tells me you've had this idea for a while now."

"Well, to be fair, I wonder a lot of things about you Jacob, so..."

He glances at you, and now understands why you want to do this. As much as you want to learn about him, you want to know what he wants to learn about you. That's half the fun, finding out what the other desires to know. He makes sure to take another sip before he begins to list his questions.

It takes you both a good ten minutes to make your decisions on what the other will be asked. Three is such a small number, there's so much he wants to ask you, so much you want to ask him. But, the alcohol really begins to catch up as you finish off your drink, and you finish up your questions, waiting for him.

In the quiet, all that can be heard is the rain and the crackling fire, you watch him. He bites the end of his pen, staring at the paper thoughtfully. You wish to peek over and spoil it for yourself, wanting to know what he wants to know so so badly. What's he curious about? What does he wish for you to reveal?

"Okay." He scribbles his last question then sits back, "Who goes first?"

"You."

Your answer comes without hesitation, and he lifts a brow at it, "What if I wanted you to go first?"

You look down at your questions, then to him, "You want me to go first?"

"Yeah."

"Fine," sitting up, you turn to face him on the couch and clutch your paper, "what was Frankenmuth like?"

He looks at your skeptically, unimpressed with your first question, "Really? That's what you're gonna ask me?"

You sigh heavily and raise your hands, palms facing up with a shrug, "Sam never tells me about it. I wanna know, did you like Christmas capital USA?"

"Yes and no," he hums in that deep voice that makes the hair on the back of your neck raise, "yes in the sense that it was a small town that gave me room to grow, no because it was fucking Bavarian Christmas central."

"You kiss a lot of farmers daughters?" You ask.

His smirk widens and he glances at you with a tease in his voice, "Why? Would that make you jealous?"

"Yes and no," you tease back almost scandalously. What a bold response, but you barely give him time to process it, "Your turn," you stretch your leg so you nudge his thigh with your toe. He reaches down and grabs your foot with a smirk, making you quickly pull it free and grin at him.

"Alright, Y/N, tell me your biggest fear." He murmurs.

You take a breath, "Dying alone."

"That's fair," he nods, "nothing you'll have to worry about though, I'm sure."

"Oh you think so highly of me," you sigh, getting up and walking towards the kitchen with your empty glass, "so much faith, I appreciate that."

"I'm serious!" He chuckles, watching you pour another drink, "Tell me, have you been seeing anyone recently?"

You pour the liquor, then you pour a little more. This conversation, this game, even though your idea, is going to require intoxication. You just know Jake's questions are going to be better than yours.

"No," your reply is quietly reassuring for him, and you continue as you finish mixing your drink, "I don't have the time for dating." I'm far too infatuated with you anyway. "It never seems to last in Nashville. Waste of time."

He understands what you mean all too well. The lack of variety. It's either date this wanna-be country singer or the other. Barely any options, everyone's all the same.

"I thought you were seeing that one guy," he says, snapping his fingers to remember his name, "um, Marcus? Max?"

"Matt." You correct and he hums in remembrance, nodding and watching you come back to him. Your face is pink, neither of you can tell if it's from the alcohol, questions, or sitting so close to him. Maybe it's a mixture of all three. "We ended that like, ages ago, Jake. How do you even remember that?"

"Just like my brothers, I'm very perceptive." He crosses his legs at the ankle, eyes on you as you sit, trailing over your legs when you tuck them beside you. "Tell me about that. All I remember was his love for snakeskin boots."

You almost retch at the memory of his very questionable fashion choices, then you fake a gag, and it causes Jake to laugh.

"What do you wanna know? There's so much." You sigh, taking a long swig from your glass. "He always had something to say about my makeup, hair, my outfits. Constantly compared me to other girls to my face. He always let me know I wasn't the prettiest in the room and would point out who was. And when we got home, he'd pretend none of that ever happened, that he loved me, and would guilt trip me into bed."

His eyes harden, frown forming. What do you mean he did all that? His next question is going to be what's his address so he can beat his ass, but you sigh and it pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Basically, he was a dick, and Sam talked me out of seeing him. So I left." You slowly look up to him, slightly embarrassed from the suddenness of your confession, "We're you expecting that?"

"I was not," his voice is low. He rests his arm on the back of couch as he looks at you, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never noticed."

You shake your head at that, "There was no way you could have because I shut you out."

"Yeah but," he shrugs, feeling guilty for something he had no control over. "I still wish I could have helped you."

"Remember the party? When you walked in on me and that one guy?"

His lips press into a firm line as he recalls that night. At the time, he didn't care, you potentially hooking up with someone. That wasn't his business, and as much as he disliked you back then, he could have cared less about you sex life. Now though, looking back on it and hindsight and knowing that's not what you were doing, he hates it. He's glad he helped you then though.

"You saved me then."

"I know I did." He whispers.

"So don't beat yourself up over something you had no idea about." Your voice is firm, "Look at me." He listens, moving his eyes to your face. "Don't burden yourself with regret over it, okay? We came to each other when we did and that's what matters now, right?"

"Right," it's a shaky breath from him.

"And I appreciate you for that."

"I'm so glad," he laughs lightly at himself, "not to get all sentimental or anything, but I'm just so happy we put our differences aside, you know?"

Of course I know. You know I'm literally falling for you, right?

"I know." You nod, staring thoughtfully at him. He stares back, that same fondness in his eyes. "Me too."

God, you love him. You love him so much it hurts almost. The desire to just toss everything aside and crawl over there to him, to curl up next to him, rest your head on his shoulder. This is the perfect time, right? Lights out, fire burning, rain pouring. When will you ever have this opportunity again? If you don't do it, maybe you'll never have the chance.

"Okay," he stretches his arms, "your turn."

Oh, screw this dumb game. You should have suggested spin the bottle instead.

"Um," you look down at your paper, eyesight a little dizzy from the drinks, but once they've focused, you read your second question, "did you ever have any groupies?"

He lets his head drop back with a laugh. How did you guys go from a heart-to-heart to this? You blush from your choice of question, blush from his laughter, and reach over to take another long sip, awaiting his question.

When he catches his breath, he nods and sighs, "Yeah, like right in the beginning of it all. When we openers for the bigger bands, God. There'd be a few, and they'd wait by the back door, pretending to be out there for a smoke. Sam would always find them first, of course, and he'd invite them back to the hotel."

"Wow," you push your jealousy down. They don't exist anymore, why should you care? "Did you ever...?"

"Yeah," he nods, discreetly gauging your reaction. He can tell you don't like the thought of it, and he likes that you don't. Just confirms that you want him to yourself; he likes that. "There was this one time, it was just me and two of them, everyone went back to their own rooms, and they were so insistent on having a threesome-"

"Okay, that's enough." You cough, another long sip from your beverage. Jesus, you're already halfway through it.

"No, let me tell the rest," he snickers, scooting closer, "they kept on asking and asking and I'm like, I think I was 21 at the time, totally down. We go back to my room and they're all over me," he continues and you're hot with envy, hot with hatred for these random girls that only exist in his mind when it comes to this tale, "and I'm down to just my underwear and so are they and when I'm laying back they both just start making out with each other. At first, I thought it was just for show, ya know, but then they don't stop, and they just forget about me. I'm sitting there watching these two girls all over each other, waiting my turn and it never comes." You can't help but smile at the story, raising your hand to cover your lips. He smiles too and shakes his head at the memory, "So I got up and left. They did god knows what in there while I went to the hotel bar."

"You're kidding," you breathe out a quick laugh.

"I'm not. We banned groupies shortly after that, one ended up stealing Sam's wallet."

"Sam's never told that story." You hum, sitting back, your anger cooling off until it's completely gone.

He notices a shift in your attitude, and again, confirms even more for him. "Ask him about it next time you see him."

You nod, "Ok, ask me your next question."

"Speaking of Sam..." he looks at you with half lidded eyes, a little tipsy from his own drink, "plus you said to be bold," you sit up a little straighter, awaiting this next one, "have you guys ever hooked up?"

"No!"

"Okay! Just wondering." He wheezes.

"Oh my god..." you slouch back and cover your face, bringing your knees up to your chin as you shake your head, "please, get that image out of my head. Ew."

"Have you ever thought about doing it with him?" He asks.

"No, Jake!" You keep your face hidden as you answer, "Never."

"Josh?"

"No," you breathe out, uncovering your red face to him and staring into his eyes, telling the truth. Your voice turns smug as you relax back, "I can't speak for them though." You hope your suggestive tone will work him up in one way or another, and it does.

First, that voice. He wants to hear you speak like that all the time, perhaps saying some other types of words. But also, what you're suggesting doesn't necessarily sit well with him. His brothers have come to an agreement that you are quite pretty, beautiful, and he's sure that the thought has probably crossed their minds at least once. The thought crosses his mind, and he pushes it out as quickly as it comes.

He grunts out, "Ok, next."

Concealing your smirk, you check your last question then set the sheet aside, "What do you think of onstage? Like, when you play?"

"I think of the song."

"Ok, maybe I should ask it differently," you sit up, "why do you play like that?"

"Like what?" He raises and eyebrow, avoiding the question.

In a whisper back, you say, "You know how."

You're talking about how it looks like he's fucking onstage.

He smirks to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Well, it's partially because I just get so into it, you know? When the music is too good, you just lose all sense of everything else. Sometimes I forget I'm even onstage until I open my eyes again and I just see them."

You nod and then mock their facial expressions, "Like this?" Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as you look up at him with a dreamy stare.

He grins and nods back, "Yup. That's it too. I know they love it, so why not just give it to them?"

"So you're a tease." You hum.

He shrugs, not agreeing or disagreeing, "Just giving them their money's worth." Running a hand through his hair, he takes a breath then adds, "It's everything, it's the band and the music, it's knowing that I'm playing just right and then hearing all of them cheering me on, watching them go wild. That energy, it builds up."

"So, you have to hump the guitar?" You try to stifle your laugh, but it comes out a bit at the end.

He rolls his eyes at you with a lopsided, shy, smile, "Okay, whatever."

"I guess," you shrug and nod with him, "you'd rather move around than stand up there frozen still."

"Exactly," he gestures a hand out to you with a singular nod before drawing it away to rest on his stomach, "that wouldn't be very much fun. Standing up there, playing but not feeling."

It makes him only that much more attractive. The way he's talking about music, how it's this thing that can be transcribed and understood and felt. How it penetrates the soul and changes lives forever. It's changed his. It's admirable.

"Alright," you huff, "I'm outta questions. Your turn."

He looks doesn't to his page. Technically, he has four written down, but one is crossed out, and for half a second, he considers it. Beneath the scratched-out ink, he reads his first third question. You said bold, and it is, but when his eyes glance at you, you're taking a sip and humming out contentedly, already crossing the line of tipsy to drunk. It's not a question he'd like to ask you when you're in that headspace.

So, he asks the one that isn't scratched out.

"What made you hate me? Like, in the very beginning. What was it that I did?"

Licking your lips, you set the glass away and sigh, "I don't even know. That's stupid, isn't it? That I just decided for no reason to have his opposition against you?"

"There had to be something." He shakes his head.

"Jake," you just shrug, "I can't remember. I think you said something, a punchline to a joke, and I just didn't like it. So I decided from then on out I wasn't going to like you, which is stupid. Childish." You both fall quiet, and you look over at him, hesitantly asking, "What- what about me?"

He shakes his head, "Honestly, I didn't hate you at first, and, again, I don't think I ever truly did. When I first saw you, I was... enamored," your heart beats faster with every word he speaks, "I wanted to impress you so bad because you just seemed so damn cool, Y/N. But you seemed uninterested, and then I realized that you didn't like me, so I should just run with that instead: become someone so unlikable to you."

"It worked there for a while." You tease, making him smile a little bit, "Can I ask then, what made you want to put everything aside?"

"Same reason as you: I was over it." He shrugs, turning his body inward to face you, "We're big kids now, we don't have time for grudges like that anymore."

"Yeah," you chuckle, tucking some of your hair back behind your ear, "but I mean I was ready to give up. I ran off at first and you chased after me. You were more willing."

"We wouldn't be here, right now, if it weren't for both of our cooperation." He leans closer, "Friendship is a team effort."

He's right. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself about this. After all, you ended up working with him and now here you are. If it weren't for that, your willingness to make this work, nothing would have come from it.

"I chased because if I knew I didn't, I'd regret it." He confesses softly, "I didn't want to just let you go."

"Jake..."

You hate that you shut him out for so long. Hate that it took you two forever to finally see eye-to-eye. But this conversation you're having now, well you couldn't be happier having it. This was something you needed to discuss, it was a conversation bound to happen, and it did.

"Okay, no more sappy shit." He laughs, standing up, crumbling his paper into a ball and tossing it onto the coffee table, "Refill? Not sure if you need one but..."

He ends up getting you a new drink, and you're properly drunk as the evening turns to night. Giggly conversations ignite between you too, your laughter booming louder than the thunder, crackling softly like the fire. You're unsurprised when you find yourself laying on the floor in front of the fireplace, Jake sitting nearby on the floor with you.

Your face is turned toward the flames, letting it heat up your skin before it gets to be too much and turning away. He watches you, your hands stretched up your head, hair strewn about beneath you, shirt ridden up just a bit to show off your stomach and navel. What a perfect opportunity to crawl over top of you and press his body against yours.

And truthfully, you want that. From him, right now. You would want that.

But he won't do it. Even when you slowly sit yourself up and crawl over to him, no, he won't. Because he knows you're drunk, and he doesn't want to take advantage of you.

"Oh, don't be like that," you whine, forcing yourself onto his lap, "I want you so bad. You don't have to worry I promise, I need you, Jakey."

"Hey," he cups your face in his hands and shakes his head firmly, "not tonight. You're hammered, Y/N, seriously. I don't want you like this."

You pull your face out of his hands with a pout, slowly removing yourself from his lap, ashamed. Rejection from Jake felt like a puncture to the heart. He takes your hand and stands, helping you into your feet, and hooking his arm around your waist as you walk, or try to, down the hallway to your rooms.

And your dizzy mind can't remember much past that. He helps you into your room, you think, and then into bed. Maybe he helped you change into your comfy shirt, maybe he convinced you to brush your teeth. You just can't remember.

In the morning though, all those memories prior come racing back like a slingshot. You wish you had a hangover, so you would maybe have some sort of excuse to hide away in here, but you feel surprisingly fine. Remembering the little bits of what was said and what you did last night though, it causes you to groan and hide your face away into one of the pillows.

And now you have the whole day that you're going to have to spend with him. Great.

With your face smushed into the pillowcase, you slowly allow yourself to think back to last night's moments. His questions, just talking to him the way you did, the confessions. The floor, crawling onto him, him holding your face and telling you no. It was embarrassing, sure, but, at the same time, reassuring.

Would you have regretted sleeping with Jake last night, or even kissing him in your state? Honestly, yes, and you're glad he kept you in check.

However, even though nothing happened, you're going to have to face Jake today. Either way, it's going to be a shameful morning.

You creep out of bed, tip toeing and pausing every few steps thinking you hear him up. In the bathroom you get ready for the morning, and once you're dressed, you slip out into the hall, down to the kitchen. It's a little messy after last night's activities. Glasses litter the counter, plates sit at the table, your books and papers are scattered in the living room.

Quietly, because you assume Jake is still sleeping, you tidy a few things up and start a pot of coffee. As it brews, you pull two mugs from the cupboard and wander over to the living rooms messy. Picking everything up, you pause a moment as you reach the coffee table, bending over to pick up your sheet. You shake your head at yourself, Re-reading the questions. Your eyes find the crumpled paper ball that Jake left behind, and you pick it up, slowly smoothing it out so you can read his handwriting.

However, footsteps grow louder, and you shove the papers in your pocket just as he walks out into the space.

You turn and smile sheepishly at him, which he returns with a kind smile of his own. Dear god, don't let today be painfully awkward, please.

"Good morning," he says, voice raspy from sleep.

"I made coffee." You reply back softly, and he looks and nods and walks over to the machine where you left the two mugs. You come over to him, trying to make your own cup but he doesn't let you.

"Ah ah ah," he shields the coffee cups with his arm, "go outside to the rocking chairs and wait for me, 'kay?"

It feels like he wants to talk to you about something, like he's sending you away to gather your thoughts, and he's going to meet you there when he's ready. Your eyes meet his, and you stare at each other for moment before you slowly nod your head and break away. You can feel the heat of his stare as you walk away and step out onto the balcony.

Facing the mountains, you close your eyes and take a deep, deep breath. Then, you let it out, and let it go. Nerves explode in your tummy, you're not ready to hear what he has to say. You wish last night never happened. Because now it's tomorrow, and you suffer with the consequences.

At least it's a clear sky. You lean against the rail as you gaze out at the view, admiring its beauty. Lost in the sight, you almost don't hear Jake sneak out onto the balcony, but the click of the door alerts you and makes you turn around. He stands there with your mug and his, he knows just how you like your morning coffee.

"Thanks," you step forward and cup the mug in your hands, bringing it up to your lips for a sip.

"Of course," he watches you and takes a sip of his own before moving over to the rocking chairs. He sits down then beckons you over with a wave of his hand. It's like that wave casts a spell on you, because your feet move without you giving a second though, and you're rocking in the chair next to his. He looks out to the mountains, speaking into his mug, "Look at that view."

You nod, soft in reply, "Wish I could see this every morning. Look at the mist."

He nods, his foot planted firmly on the floor so he can rock his chair evenly. Your eyes end up drifting back over to him. His hair is messy from sleep, his clothes wrinkled, eyes sleepy. Did he even fall asleep last night? Or did he stay up into the early morning hours?

After he closed the door to your bedroom, he stalled out in the hallway, trying to make up his mind. You requested his help in getting ready for bed, aiding you in changing into your sleep shirt and he stayed and watched you brush your teeth because he was scared you'd choke on your toothbrush somehow. But after that, when you were tucked into bed, he didn't want to leave you. He wanted to crawl in beside you, hold you close, wake up with you in the morning. But he can't.

It kept him up, the thought of you. The memory of you on top of him, touching him, whining for him. I need you, Jakey. He laid in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to forget your voice, but it kept ringing in his ears until he trailed a hand down his body and gripped himself through his boxers.

"Sleep well?" You ask quietly.

He turns to look at you and nods his head, "You?"

You shrug with a quick laugh, "I was pretty much knocked out. I guess I drank too much?"

He chuckles softly at that and nods some more, "Yeah, yeah you did." He lowers his eyes, so he doesn't hold your gaze when he says, "About last night..."

"Can I be honest?" Your mouth moves before you can speak, and when looks at you again, you breathe out in a forced laugh, "I don't remember a thing." What a lie. "I apologize for whatever I did, drunk Y/N is a character." A desperately horny one at that. "We can just... forget about it, okay?"

"You don't remember anything?" He asks, slightly unbelieving. Sure you were drunk, but not that far gone, right?

You shrug again, trying to sound as believable as possible, "No. I don't. What, did I do something bad? Commit a crime?"

He doesn't know why his heart falls, no actually, he does. He wanted you to remember, he wanted you to blush and confess first but you don't. You don't remember, does that mean you never meant any of it in the first place?

He shakes his head, but he doesn't laugh or even smile at your joke, "No. It's okay, we can forget it."

He can't just forget about though, and neither can you.

"I'm sorry for whatever happened." You mumble, slowly sitting up and whispering just to sell your lie, "What happened?"

He looks over at you, and he believes you. He really thinks that you don't know. But he wants to save you both from the embarrassment, so he lies right back.

"You," he stalls for just a moment but is quick on his feet, "spilt your drink everywhere and broke a glass."

You most certainly did not, and you know you didn't, and you know he's lying right back to you right now. And for some reason, it makes your stomach uneasy. Like you're going to be sick. Because neither of you are brave enough to acknowledge the truth. It's right in front of you both and neither of you are acknowledging it.

Maybe Jake doesn't actually like you. Maybe you read it wrong, and he doesn't feel the same.

"Oh," you sit back and close your eyes, leaning your head back in hopes of ridding the dizzy feeling. Maybe you are hungover. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he laughs it off, noticing your slight distress, he sits up, "hey listen, it's fine. I'm serious. It's okay, Y/N.”

"Mm-hmm," you nod your head with your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. It's really not okay to you.

He feels bad for even bringing it up, and now is unsure how to go about the rest of it. Clearly, you're upset. How does he settle that?

"Do you want breakfast?" He asks, "You know the pancake house nearby?"

Slowly you open your eyes and look to him. It seems as if nothing happened, as if he's completely unfazed. As long as you pretend that you don't know anything about the night prior, you should be fine, so you promise to yourself to try to keep the act up for the remainder of the trip.

"Yeah," you weakly smile at him, sitting up, "wanna go?"

"I'm starving." He chuckles, standing and holding his hand out for you to grab.

You take it, and just holding it is enough to make you catapult to last night so when you're steady on your feet you let go. The two of you head inside and freshen up a little so you're presentable for going out, and while you wait for him at the door, your hand twitches to pull out his paper that's tucked away in your pocket still. But, he reunites with you and together, you make your way to the mountainside diner.

The design hasn't been updated probably since the 70s, only slightly renovated to accommodate proper A/C and stay up to date with food regulations. It really just looks like a massive, cartoonish house, a huge sloping roof with a pale yellow exterior. On the inside, it's a classic dinner with cherry red and sky blue booths, a radio jukebox at each table. Jake insists that you all listen to some Johnny Cash that morning, and you say only if Dolly Parton can be played next.

It feels like the way it did at the jazz show, except softer. Almost mundane, but sweet mundanity with Jake is just as special as a scandalous night out on the town. You'd listen to jazz with him, classic country, heavy metal, anything just as long as he stays by your side. Music with Jake is better to you.

"No other pancake compares." He sighs around a mouthful, making you giggle in your spot across from him.

In the thirty minutes that you've been outside of the cabin, your tension has slowly faded away. It has to be beside you're not trapped inside by the rain; it has to be this fresh air and strangers surrounding you. This is exactly what you needed to help with the awkwardness.

"So, what do you wanna do today? It's perfect outside." You bite a piece of bacon and look over to him.

He lifts an eyebrow, "How are you not hungover? I mean we are up in the mountains, that has to get your drunker. The air pressure and all."

"I don't know," you roll your eyes and kick his shoe beneath the table, making him send you a mischievous grin, "but I want us to go out and have fun today, so what are we doing?"

"Wanna hit a few trails?"

You nod, "Yeah. Let's do it."

With perfect timing, his phone begins to vibrate on the tabletop, and Josh's contact flashes on the screen. Your eyes flit up to his face and he presses his lips together, acknowledging that his brother is trying to get ahold of him, but not wanting to answer. Instead of declining the call, he lets it ring until it stops, then looks up to you. You would say something about it, but you don't.

"Ready for a hike?"

After heading back to the cabin and getting changed, you both spend the majority of the afternoon trekking through the wooded mountains. Surprisingly, for a weekend, it isn't crowded while you're out, so you're able to wander leisurely and walk side-by-side. The entirety of your hiking is full of light chatter and jokes. It feels like nothing ever happened between you two, and you love it. You love that feeling of normalcy with Jake, not having to pretend.

In all honesty, you'd rather it stay like this forever. A friendship full of genuineness rather than a pining that leaves things stiff. You'd choose friendship with Jake over a relationship as long as it stays normal, comfortable. Lost in your thoughts, you flinch when Jake gasps softly and places his arm in front of your body to stop you.

Frowning, you look up at him and open your mouth to ask why he stopped you, but lifts a single finger to his lips to silently shush you. Your face relaxes, and you watch him use his finger to point to the right of you, off the trail and into the trees.

Slowly, you turn your head, and it takes you a minute to notice, but then you see what he sees. Two deer nearly blended in with the brush, staring straight back you and him. They stand perfectly still except for their twitching ears, staying alert for any nearby predators.

Your mouth curls into a smile, and Jake lowers his arm so it rests beside his body. The back of his hand brushes over yours softly, and if it weren't for the nature connecting with you right now, you probably would have noticed and looked at your hands. But you don't, because you can't.

They watch you carefully, the one in front taking a few curious steps forward. It's black eyes pierce yours, connecting with you in a way that is deeper than humanly possible. It's like they are trying to tell you something, that they are trying to communicate in a language only they know. What are you try to tell us?

But then, a twig breaks in the distance and echoes through the forest, causing the deer to startle and trot off. You and stand there silently, hoping they'll come back after a few moments of stillness, but they don't.

"Wow," he whispers, looking at you.

You beam up at him, "That was amazing. Did you see it step towards us?"

"Yeah," he nods, "they looked so curious."

"Think they were trying to tell us something."

"Yeah? Like what?"

He's staring down at you so fondly, eyes full of love almost. How are these the eyes that looked at you through the dark last night, in his car, in the pouring rain?

"I don't know," you whisper, licking your lips, "they know something we don't, I guess."

Like your connection. Like the tension you both ignore. But, then again, you both know that, don't you? It's just acknowledging it. Maybe that's what they were telling you, to just accept it. Accept each other.

He lifts his eyes to the branches and leaves above you, how they almost block out the sky. Instead of the blue, all you can see is the lush greenness. The trees tops sway in the wind, and for a moment you can almost hear the whisper it carries. Another secret, something neither of you know. Maybe something not meant to be heard but discovered on your own.

"Wanna keep going?"

"What?" You break out of your thoughts.

"The trail?" He nods ahead of you two, "It's not that much further to the overlook, if you wanna check it out."

"Oh, yeah. Of course, let's go."

You ignore what the mountains trees try to tell you the rest of the way, and when you make it to the clearing, you breath deep. Walking to the edge, right up to the barrier, you close your eyes and breathe out your long exhale.

He watches you as you do, smiling softly at your sense of liberty. Clearly letting go of something as you release that breath. He wonders what. He could ask, but he doesn't want to. Whatever it is, it's yours, it's your feeling, it's your relief. Plus, he doesn't want to speak in a moment like this, when you seem so at peace, so calm. So fucking beautiful.

When you blink your eyes open, you turn and look to him, letting out an awkward giggle he returns it with his own, stepping back before turning to the overlook. He's overcome by a wave of awareness, staring out at the huge mountains, the miles and miles of trees that cover them, all the creatures that live there. He's minuscule in comparison, just one man amongst the thousands of trees. Him and his problems, worries, they cease to exist when there is so much more amongst this place, world, universe.

"Damn..." he mumbles under his breath to his own self-discovery, but also at the beauty of it all, of everything. This revelation, moment, scene.

And you're there with him. He knows some of this comes back to you. In a world so big, with so little time, and some of that time already lost, why are either of you just avoiding this?

"I know right," you chuckle, thinking he's talking about the glorious view, "I can't even look away, it's so beautiful."

He nods, mind still on his other thoughts as he simply replies, "It is."

You're not sure how long the two of you stood there, but you took your time. Soaking it all in, silently beside one another. Reflecting on everything, processing all your thoughts, letting go of a few things. This is the perfect place to do all of that.

"Think there will be an echo?" He asks softly, shifting his weight as he spreads his stance.

"I'm not sure-"

He brings his hands up to cup around his mouth and as loud as he can, shouts, "HELLO!"

The two you lean your ears toward the air and sure enough, the voice faintly echoes back a 'hello... hello... hello...'. He boyishly grins at you, and it makes your smile stretch as he judges you with his elbow.

"You go. Shout something." He says.

You shake your head, "Nah..."

"No, go on. Say something." He insists with a slight whine in his voice.

"Okay, uhhhh," you shrug and shake your head as you cup your mouth and try your best to shout, "hi!"

"That was pitiful," he laughs, and you blush, trying to shove him but he steps away before you can. He mimics your tiny voice, "hi!"

"Ugh," you groan at his teasing, turning back to the overlook with determination as you stand tall and shout, "HELLOOOOOOOO!"

"Yeah! There ya go!" He laughs, quieting down almost instantly to listen your voice echo back.

It makes you both break into little giggles, him slinging an arm over your shoulders, you planting a hand on his chest. When you both calm down, slowly looking to each other, you stand there for a second in each other's embrace. And then, slowly, detach yourselves from the other, much to your shared dismay.

"So," you scratch the back of your arm and look downward at the dirt beneath your shoes, "now what?"

"Hmm," he thinks for a moment, choosing not to make this anymore awkward than it needs to be, and suggests, "late lunch?"

You both end getting to-go orders from a nearby burger shack and he insists on making it a picnic. So, amongst all the mountains have to offer, you both find a picnic table at a park and hunker down for lunch. Who knew hiking and screaming at the top of your lungs and trying to avoid your romantic love for your best friend could work up such an appetite?

"You said this earlier but I gotta repeat it," he moans, taking a bite of his burger, "I just wanna wake up every day and do this. Eat burgers after hiking in the most beautiful mountains with you."

You crack a smile at that, popping a fry into your mouth, "Yeah? What about playing shows and making music?"

"Hmm, you're right. Okay, this is a close second though and when I say close, I mean like," he lifts his hand to showcase his finger and thumb almost pinched together, "this close."

"You're so stupid." You chuckle, picking up another fry and dipping it in ketchup. He grins at you as he continues eating, and you say, "You know, I'd love to go see you on tour again, like, go out and see you in some cities."

He picks up quickly on how you just say him. Not the band, not 'you guys', just you.

"Yeah?" He tries to remain cool about it, but inside, his heart is leaping and doing flips, "Well, you know we are leaving soon for tour."

"I know," you hum, "I was kind of hinting at something there, Jake."

He burns at his lack of awareness, his expression slowly flipping to one of realization, "Oh, well, yeah. Yeah, I can arrange something like that for you."

"I don't want to invite myself though." You find his flustered reaction cute but try your best to bite back a smile.

He shakes his head, "No, I'm inviting you now. You're invited. Just, let me know your schedule and we can get you to a few weekend shows maybe, like..." he wracks his brain for one of the dates, "oh, Vegas. Yeah. You're coming to Vegas."

"Hah," you audibly laugh at that.

"I'm serious. It's a Saturday show I'm pretty sure. Plus, you love Elvis so..." he shimmy's his shoulders as he belts out in a low, Presley-esque register, "vivaaaaaaa Las Vegas."

"Jake Kiszka, you're so stupid." But I love you for it.

He just winks at before quieting down. Your eyes spot his hand resting on the table, how badly you wish you could just reach over and take it in yours. Have him hold your fingers loosely and bring the back of it up to his mouth. Now you're eying is lips how soft and pink they look, you're dying to peck them with your own.

"Did you ever call Josh back?" You try to get your mind off of your friend with the perfect face sitting across from you. It's almost as easy as watching television with your eyes closed.

He sighs and shakes his head, "No. he's been texting me though. I'm pretty sure he knows I'm lying. He always knows when I'm lying."

They are twins after all. Josh knows Jake better than anyone, and vice versa. It would have been so much easier to not keep this trip a secret, but then of course you'd be teased for days. Why that matters so much to either of you, you're still not sure.

"What are you gonna say?" You ask.

He shrugs, "I don't know. What do you think I should say?"

He's asking you, and you know what you want to answer with, but the words are trapped. Just tell them, tell them that we are friends and there's nothing more to it. Or, just tell me. Tell me you like me back. You're adults right? You're big kids? Don't mature grown-ups accept their feelings and talk to one another about it?

No, you're both just as bad as a pair of angsty teenagers.

"I think you should just deny."

He laughs softly. He was kind of hoping you'd tell him to tell everyone the truth.

As the day carries on night begins to fall, and you both reel back into the cabin. It was like you both knew once you went back there, once you were behind closed doors, the mood would shift. So, you avoided going back for as long as you could, until the sun began to sink behind the mountains and you had no other choice.

The power is at least back on now, so you both wind down in the living room in separate chairs, watching some cheesy movie that's on tv. It feels wrong to be sitting in silence with Jake, feels wrong to have your attention on something other than each other.

"This sucks," he groans, grabbing the remote and turning it off, "I mean, what kind of garbage are they making and calling film these days."

"You sound like Josh." You laugh and he shoots a fake glare at you which makes your laughter grow before you quiet down. You're not sure what time it is, but you do know it's late, so you fake a stretch and yawn, "You staying up?"

He shrugs, "Probably. You know me."

"Ok, I'll stay with you."

"No, you don't have to. Get some sleep."

"It's our last night here though." You say, getting up and standing in front of him, "I wanna spend time with you."

He blinks up at you, a look in his eye that says he has an idea. When his smirk grows you get curious and plants your hands on your hips, silently asking what he's up to. He just holds a single finger up and disappears down the hall, before returning with a surprise.

He reveals a little kit, and you look at him skeptically, immediately knowing what it is.

"Wanna get high?" He asks.

Your face twists into a giddy grin and nod, trying to look casual about it. He leads you out onto the balcony, the sun just providing a purple glow in the sky now. He sits and rolls the joint and you watch him, leaning against the railing. His fingers catch you off guard, how agile he is, precise, great at rolling. He holds it up with a proud smile and hands it to you for inspection.

You pinch it between your finger and thumb and thoughtfully examine it with a nod of approval, and when you look at him to hand it back, he's already standing with a lighter in hand. He holds the flame out for you, giving you the honor of starting it off. You lick your lips, glancing to his eyes and he nods for you to go ahead, so you set it in between your lips and let him light it, taking a few puffs before inhaling and exhaling. He pulls the lighter away and watches you when you take a full drag, watches the smoke float out of your mouth and you look down at the paper in your hand.

You hand it back to him, and he takes his own drag. He tries to ignore the way the paper is damp from your lips, tries not to overthink about how this was in your mouth and now it's in his, because how adolescent is that?

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, "This weekend?"

"I did," you smile, taking the joint back when he extends it to you, "thanks for inviting me on this trip. I mean, I love it here."

"I know, I remembered how much you enjoyed the other trips and I'd been meaning to escape Nash for a while so," he shrugs, eyes trained on your lips around the stick, "seemed like a perfect opportunity for both of us."

"Mmhm," you hum with your mouth closed, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you part your lips and exhale the smoke out. He wants to step forward and kiss the skin of your neck, suck little marks to it, but instead averts his gaze to the moon slowly beginning to rise.

"So you had a good time too?" You ask.

"Yeah," he breathes as the two of you pass the joint back and forth, "I really needed this. Thanks for coming along."

"Anytime." And you mean it. Anytime Jake wants you just to himself, he can have you.

Instead of talking, the two you just watch nightfall. Sometimes words don't need to be said. Right now, here with you by his side in the silence, that's enough for him. It's enough for you too. You wish he'd put his arm around you though. That would make this moment perfect, if you could rest your head on his shoulder and feel his arm around your waist.

Slowly, the weed hits, and you both turn a little giggly and retire to the rocking chairs. Jake is always beautiful but right now, with your watery eyes and foggy brain, you find him especially gorgeous. His eyes are a little red, smile lazy, head tilted to the side. You want to see all versions of Jake, stoned, drunk, happy, sad, mad, confused, all of them. You're sure they're all beautiful. You know you'd love them all even if they aren't.

"God, I'm so glad we are friends." He sighs, letting his head rest back against the wood, "Can we stay friends forever?"

You look over at him, and for a second, you're back on earth, and a tiny lump forms in your throat. Forever and ever, across every lifetime, in every universe no matter what, you'd love to be Jake Kiszka's friend. He's thinking the same thing about you.

"Forever." You whisper back and he smiles over at you.

Then, lost in each other's stares, it's just you two. No one else in the world exists, just the two of you.

You're not sure what time it is when you both filter back inside, but he said something about bears that made you panic slightly and realize you're basically in their territory. So, back to the couch it is, and the movies on television are now slightly better than they were an hour or so ago.

As the credits roll you finally feel slightly centered again instead of drifting around, and Jake seems to be on the same level too. His eyes are droopy though, looking like he could pass out any time now. And of course, you take that as the perfect moment to admit something.

"I know what I did last night." You whisper, loud enough for him to catch and turn his head. His tired eyes look a bit more alert now, and you take a breath before continuing, "I'm sorry about it, Jake. What I did was wrong."

"You were drunk," he brushes it off with a light chuckle, "it's okay, Y/N."

The corner of your mouth twitches, and quietly reply in a pitiful voice, "Okay." He reaches his arm over to you and pats your knee, rubbing it softly before withdrawing his hand. Where he touched you leaves a sting, not because he hit you or anything but because it's him, and Jake has left this mark on you for a while now. And despite everything, literally everything, you can't wipe away his stain. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"That sounds like a good idea, actually." He stretches, glancing at you and noticing your stiffness. "You okay?"

You nod, feeling far away from him and everything else, lost in your thoughts. But he leaves you be, walking with you to your respective bedroom doors and turning to face each other before you call it a night.

"I meant what I said, out there on the balcony," he murmurs, "I never don't want to be your friend, Y/N."

You just feel like you could cry, because you feel the same way but also, there's something more. That longing, yearning for more from Jake, it almost eats you up. But, in an effort to keep your tears away, you step towards him and wrap your arms around his waist in a hug.

"I meant it too." Your tiny voice cracks as you speak into his t-shirt, squeezing your eyes tight. He envelopes you in his arms, rubbing his palm over your back and leaning his head against yours.

You both hesitantly pull away after a minute, looking at each other and noticing that something is definitely different now. Something has changed. But neither of you say anything other than 'goodnight' before slipping into your rooms and shutting the door behind yourselves. Jake stands on the other side of his door, fingertips touch the knob as he stares at the floor with his head hung.

What am I doing?

You walk across the floor to the bathroom, immediately trying to distract yourself with your night routine. Brushing your teeth, washing your face, hair care. Then, you slip on your oversized t-shirt of the night and go to get beneath your covers when you notice it. The tiny, crumbled ball of paper you stuffed in your pocket earlier.

Before you know it, you're picking it up and finally unwrapping it, smoothing out the wrinkled paper and reading Jake's handwriting. Your fingertips brush over the ink as you do so, as if you're touch the hand that wrote them in the first place.

- biggest fear

-Sam?

-What made you hate me?

But in between the bottom two, scratched out and laying beneath black ink, sits one extra question he bailed on last night.

-how do you really feel about me

Your fingers curl into the sheet, hands griping it so hard you might make holes or rip it in half. Your heart picks up, and heat takes over your whole body, across your face, over the top of your head and down your back and chest to your feet. Your mind is racing, unsure of what to do or even what it means but you know one thing. You know for certain exactly how you feel about Jake Kiszka.

And you're ready to ask him that question.

Your feet are moving you before you have the chance to think, and you're stepping across the room, opening your door and walking across to his closed one. You raised your fist, about to knock your knuckles against the grain, but, like he had been standing there the entire time, he opens the door and raises his eyebrows when he sees you there. And the paper in your hands.

Blinking up at him in the silence, you gather your thoughts and steady your breath, eyes wide and wistful, desperate, wishful. Please let this be true, don't lie to me again and I'll never lie to you.

"How do you really feel about me?"

Honey - Boy Pablo "Baby, you are really something else, 'Cause I don't think I've smiled like this before, When I spend my time with you it tends to stop."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Waking up before him was a rare thing; the man never sleeps. So, lying here next to him as he’s still sound asleep is a treat. Moving the loose strands of hair out of his face, it’s hard not to stare at him. He’s so beautiful. His eyelashes against his cheeks, the perfect little slope of his nose, and the way I just want to kiss the tip of it every chance I get. His lips, the way they pout when he’s asleep, I’m obsessed with them usually, but good god, they look even better now. 

Resisting the urge to kiss him, I settle for just lightly running my thumb over his cheekbone for a minute. I could watch him sleep forever. I lightly traced my finger down the bridge of his nose. Letting my hand run over his cheek again before settling on holding his jaw. My thumb barely grazed his top lip; something about his cupid's bow will always be my favorite. He gently kisses my thumb before his arm pulls me closer to him, slotting my leg between his and scooting my head over to his pillow, our faces a breath apart. He plants a kiss on my forehead, wrapping his arms around me in a hug; his whole body is warm, keeping me tucked into him. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I tell him, muffled since I’m trapped inside his arms. 

He lets out a long breath, “Not the worst way to be woken up,” his morning voice sends a little shock through my system. The rasp in his voice when he’s freshly awake is so sexy.  

“Remember when you said we should quit our jobs?” I ask, laughing as the question comes out. Listening to his giggle as his chest vibrates against me. 

He tilts to look at me, “Oh, now you’re on board?” 

“It’s never too early for pirate references, huh?” 

“Never.” 

Leaning in, finally getting to kiss that cute little pout of his. I can’t help myself when I whisper, “Well then, can I get you some coffee, Captain?” 

Once I was able to get away from him, approximately forty-seven “one more” kisses later, I started the coffee pot for us. Pulling out another mug and making sure it’s clean since I’m the only one who’s been here in a while. I stand there staring at it as the coffee slowly trickles into the pot. 

His arms slide around my waist, tucking his face into my neck as he hugs me. He’s such a gentle boy, a type of affection I’m certainly not used to. His muffled little voice told me, “Didn’t want to wait for you to come back.” 

My heart swells at his words, holding onto his arms as he sways us slightly. 

“Your parents aren’t just going to walk in, right?” He asks, still muffled. 

I giggle at the thought, “No, babe, you’re safe.” 

“I don’t think they would wanna see my half-naked ass in their kitchen.” His sweet laugh is in my ear, knowing he’s absolutely just in his boxers. 

“That would be a first impression for sure,” I tell him. 

We slowly made our way into the living room with our coffee. I drape a throw blanket over him to keep him warm, which really is a bummer for me. I could stare at him all day long, selfishly. 

“Quinn asked if I wanted to go over for a little bit,” I tell him. “I guess Mel and Iris are going to be there too.” 

He quietly asks, “Are you gonna go?”

“It sounds fun.”

“Oh good,” he says, leaning over and leaving a kiss on my cheek. “I’m glad you’ve found friends in all of them.” 

I glance over at him, letting out a quiet, “Me too.”

“I know it’ll never be the same as Cass,” he says, his hand sliding into mine. “But they’re all really good people, and I’m glad you have more people to lean on.” 

Jacob, oh my god. 

“I’ll cry if you keep talking,” I force a small laugh to try and stop the way my throat just tightened up on me. 

His thumb rubs along mine, “I’m just happy for you.” 

“Jacob, seriously,” I laugh, looking up at the ceiling to try and force the tears back in. He only makes it worse, pulling my hand up and kissing the back of it. The smirk that grew on his face was devious; I could feel it. 

He leans back over to me, kissing my cheek a few times and whispering, “You’re so beautiful, honey.”

“Jacob,”

“What?” 

“What are you trying to do?” 

“I'm just being nice to you!”

My eyebrows pull together as I stare at him. He’s fighting a laugh, so I know there’s something floating around in his head. I mumble, “That smirk is telling me otherwise.”

The laugh that came out when he threw his head back. I wish I could have that on a twenty-four-hour loop; I love seeing him so happy. 

“I don’t wanna say it,” his face goes red as he looks at me. 

“Ohhh,” I coo, squishing his face with my hand. “Now you have to tell me.” 

His eyes look between mine and my lips for a moment before he finally whispers, “Just like hearing you say stuff, I don’t know.” 

“That’s all?”

“Well,” he clears his throat before rambling out, “I just um—“

I raise my eyebrows, quietly asking, “What is it?”

“I like knowing I can make you yell my name,” his sweet face is still red, like he doesn’t whisper foul things to me during sex. 

“Mmm,” I hum. Deciding just to tease him a bit, “You’re good at it too.” Sliding my hand up his thigh as I look at him. 

“Char, you’re playing with fire,” his voice low. 

I lean in closer to him, “I don’t have to clock in yet.” 

“Well, in that case—“ he giggles, wrapping his arms around me as he falls back onto the couch, pulling me on top of him.

I can’t stop the small yelp that sneaks out, “Jacob!” 

He flashes me a smile that would have my knees giving out, pulling my face in for a kiss before mumbling into me, “I know you can be louder than that, honey.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Spending my mornings with him has quickly become one of my favorite things. I just get to sit with him while we both try to wake up and listen to him tell me things that he needs to get done before opening the bar– which, for most people, probably sounds incredibly dull, but even just hearing his voice is refreshing. 

Though we don’t always end up in compromising positions, we do tend to fall into them. I can’t lie; it’s usually me starting it. But when he’s just walking around like that, how am I supposed to keep it together?

He spent a few hours with me before he needed to leave, and every time we leave each other, we get increasingly more dramatic about it, to the degree of me lingering outside his car, trying to give him at least ten more kisses before he left. I honestly don’t know what’s come over me. 

Nevertheless, the drive to Quinn’s apartment feels reminiscent of when I would drive to Cass. The closer I get, the more I start to recognize, which is nice and simultaneously weird. They may have been almost neighbors at this rate. The weather this time of year makes for many empty trees, and if there’s no snow on the ground, it’s just a bit sad. 

Once I find where their apartment is and confirm that I’m not parked in someone’s spot, I find my way to their door and knock a few times. 

“It’s unlocked!” I can hear Quinn yell through the door. So I let myself in, sliding my shoes off so I don’t track dirt everywhere. Finding them in the kitchen, pulling something out of the oven.

“I’m so glad you decided to come over!” They giggle, dropping their oven mitts onto the counter and prancing over to hug me. “Mel should be here soon, too.”

“It’s been a minute since I had any semblance of a ‘girl’s’ night,” Making sure to toss some air quotes in there. “It’ll be nice to just laugh with you guys for a bit.” 

Mel showed up not too long after me, having Iris say hi to Willa and me before letting her cling to Quinn. It’s really adorable how much she loves them. The three of us find ourselves on the couch, just catching up about work.

“Do you like working at the bar, or is it terrible?” Willa asks her, looking over at me for a second. 

Mel laughs at her question, “Oh, it’s not terrible. It’ll be nice once Jake realizes that I do know what I’m doing.”

“He does hover quite a bit, doesn’t he?” I chime in, giggling because I’ve called him out for it a few times. 

Mel’s laugh fills the room before spitting out, “Like a helicopter mom!” 

We all fall into a fit of giggles at her comment, which is undeniably true.  

“Since we’re on the topic–” Quinn’s eyebrows pop up a few times when they ask. “So.. what are the updates with our friendly pirate?”

“What do you wanna know?” I giggle quietly. 

Mel quickly shouted, “ANYTHING.”

“We just need to know if things are progressing!” Willa chimed in right after. 

“Well.. we did basically go on a date,” I tell him shyly. “We just kind of didn’t acknowledge that it was a date.”

The instant squeal from everyone made me laugh. It’s cute how excited they are over it. 

Willa can’t hold it in anymore, “DETAILS GIRL!”

“I made him dress up with me a little,” I started. “And then we got dinner, and we went to a different bar afterward, and both of us got a little drunk..”

“What?!” They all yell at the same time. 

I laugh, asking, “What?”

“Jake almost never drinks- let alone gets drunk,” Quinn tells me. 

Mel reaches over, grabs my arm, and asks, “Is he still wild?”

“Oh- he was so goofy and giggly,” I can feel my face heating up as I talk about him. “Also, he was so, so, sweet. I don’t think he went more than a minute without making some sort of contact with me.”

Quinn let out a quiet,  “Oh, my heart.”

“He also started singing to me and made me dance with him.” 

“EW,” Willa yelps. 

I hide my face in my hands, mumbling, “I know.”

“How do you feel about him?” Quinn asks timidly. 

That really is the question, isn’t it? I can feel them all staring at me, waiting for my response. 

“Uh, I don’t know,” I say nervously, knowing they won’t buy it. 

Mel quickly piped up, “Don’t lie! We won’t say anything, don’t worry.”

“I mean.. He’s just.. He’s so nice and caring and..”

“And?” Willa’s eyebrow shoots up. 

I let out a laugh while admitting, “God, he’s so hot.”

“Tell me to shove it if this is too much but.. Have you considered just.. Actually dating him?”

I haven’t really thought about it, but being able to call him mine makes my heart feel weird. 

“Well, um”

“What’s making you doubt it?”

“Or what’s holding you back? Maybe that’s a better way to say it”

My job. Living up north. The fact that I’m scared that this is a fluke because I met him when I was so sad. But I can’t tell them that.. 

“I guess I don’t really know,” I lie. 

Quinn asks, “Have you guys like.. talked about that before?”

“No, we kind of just got into this situation and then left it at that.”

“Well, how did that conversation go?” Willa follows up. 

I sigh, “Naturally, he said whatever I'm comfortable with, so… everything is up to me.”

“Are you worried that he won’t be into it?” Mel asks quietly. 

“Honestly, no, not really. The way he treats me and talks to me tells me that he would be willing to work with whatever.” 

Quinn finally belts out, “LOTTIE— JUST TAKE THE CHANCE.”

But what if I don’t feel like I deserve him? I lied to be able to hang out here longer than I needed to. I’ve inconvenienced him for the last couple of weeks and probably stressed him out by never telling him his paperwork was good to go.  

“Yeah, girl,” Mel starts, “I would just maybe try to slip it into a conversation with him at some point. You’ll literally have the sweetest boyfriend on the planet; what’s there to lose?”

Him.

I hesitate,  “Um.”  I swallow hard, looking down and not knowing what to say. 

Quinn says, “Okay, okay, we can stop, but just.. perhaps think about it?” 

“Yeah, a different note,“ Willa starts, “I have this shoot coming up.”

Thankful that Quinn segued the attention off of me, but now my brain is all over the place. I don’t even know how to begin having that conversation with him. I quietly nod my head, listening to Willa explain the shoot that she has. I know I live only a couple of hours away, but would that make him not want to actually date?  I can’t imagine him giving this up that easily.. Feeling Iris tap my leg, I look down to see her precious little face. I pull her up to sit on my lap, and she leans into me. 

“Oh, how sweet,” Mel coos at the sight of it. 

I glance down, smiling at her, quietly laughing, “I’m glad she’s comfortable.”

“Must be something about you that she likes,” she tells me. Well, if my heart didn’t hurt already, now it does. I was watching her play with the bracelet I had on, thoroughly distracting me for a few minutes. 

“So, Lottie, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

Forcing myself back to reality, “I have to go back up North and hang out with my parents and sister, unfortunately.” 

“Oh! I forget you don’t just live down here.”

Yeah, me too, apparently. 

“What are you guys doing?” 

“We’re,” Quinn starts. “Going with the boys to their parents’ Airbnb. It’s going to be interesting  since it’ll be the first holiday with everyone.”

I can see Jake’s face in my mind, the way he looked so sad that he would be the only one there alone. 

“It’s already overwhelming just being around the three of them, and from what I’ve gathered, their mom is basically the same as Josh.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” 

“Quinn, you don’t have to suck up to him.. He’s not here.” 

“I’m not! I’m just going to have a positive mindset about it. I’m sure she’s great.” 

They bicker like an old married couple. 

Mel finally chimed in, “I’ve met them, and they’re wonderful, but yes, Josh is a carbon copy of her, so Willa strap in.” 

I wonder who Jake is more like. 

“I think Danny and I are going to hang out with my Dad for a bit, but then probably make it over to the Kiszka’s because he’s basically part of their family,” Mel tells us. “Plus, it’ll be nice to see them and let Iris meet them since I spent a good amount of time around their house before they moved.”

“Oh, that sounds so fun,” I let out. 

Willa adds, “It’s too bad you won’t be there with us.” 

“Well! Are you going to come by the bar Wednesday night?” Quinn asks. “I think everyone will be there at some point.” 

“Oh, yeah, I figured I’d at least stop in before I head up North.” 

Quinn was excited right away, “Yay! Okay, good! We can all have a drink together before you go!” 

“I’m sure Jake will be happy to see you before you disappear for the weekend, too,” Mel slips in.  

I know, I’m dreading it. 

“We already agreed to bug each other all day since I’ll be bored at home, and he’s the only single one going to Thanksgiving,” I tell them, though it feels like I should have maybe held that in. 

Willa’s face contorted as she said, “Ugh, you two are so cute already; it’s disgusting.” 

“Stooop,” I laugh quietly. 

“I know we said we’d stop talking about it,” Quinn says. “But you guys are honestly precious together.” 

I know it’s probably going to cause a scene, but I ask, “Have you seen the pictures we took in Salem?”

“THE WHAT?” Willa about screamed. 

I bark out a laugh at her reaction, “Hold on, I’ll show you.” 

I slide my phone out from under my leg, swiping through to get to the photos and then handing it over to them to look through. The sounds alone had me laughing, but the way they would all gasp when Willa would swipe to the next photo. 

“Look at how he’s looking at you, oh my GOD.”

“Charlotte– WHY DIDN’T YOU SHOW US THESE SOONER??”

Willa flips the phone around to see the photo of us looking at each other. “GIRL.” 

“What?!” I can feel the heat in my face. 

She turned the phone back to herself, zooming in and then turning it back to me. She zoomed in a little on Jake’s face, his smile, full-on teeth smile, as he looked at me. 

“Be so for real, Charlotte,” she says, letting out a laugh. 

Mel’s eyes flit between my phone and my stare, “Girl, that man l–  adores you.” 

 He WHAT? There’s no way. I mean, I definitely have a crush on him. Maybe a little more than a crush. Okay, I don’t know how much I actually like him. 

“Oh, you both look so happy,” Quinn’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. 

Willa hands my phone back to me, and Iris is still sitting on my lap. She sees the photo before I lock it. 

She points at it, looking at Mel and signing something to her. 

Mel signs back, speaking under her breath as she does, ‘Yes, baby, that’s Uncle Jake.’

You have to be kidding me.  I swipe through the photos as she beams at them, giggling at him for a moment before she looks over at Quinn and starts to climb off my lap. 

We all sat around chatting about whatever came to mind for a while. My phone lights up, looking at it, fuck, and it’s my boss. I look over at Quinn, pointing at the call and then nodding towards the door and quickly hustling outside, dreading the call preemptively. 

“Hello,” I answer, trying to sound confident. 

“Charlotte, we gotta chat,” he says matter-of-factly. 

I know I have to sound terrified when I finally say, “Okay.”

“I have been trying to stay flexible with you,” he starts. “But considering your lack of response the past few days, I’m going to be very real with you.” 

I try to interject, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy and forgot to reply-” 

“I’m sure you have been, but,” he says, unfortunately, he isn’t willing to hear me out. “You need to be in the office again on Monday. Otherwise, we’re going to have a problem.”

I start to add, “But I–” 

He cuts me off, “No, you’ve had enough time. If that bar is struggling so badly, fixing it is not your job. Your job right now is to show up Monday morning.”  

I stare at the ground silently, fighting the urge to cry.

“You still there?” he asks. I wish I weren’t. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” 

He sighs, “I really don’t want to see you get let go, Charlotte.”

“Wait.. I would be fired?” the panic lacing my voice is unmistakable.  

He hesitates to respond but finally replies, “I’m not going to say for sure, but I can’t say that some of the other higher-ups are thrilled with this situation right now.” 

“Oh… Um okay. I’ll be there Monday,” I let out, my voice timid.  

“Wonderful. Have a great weekend and happy Thanksgiving.” 

I quietly say, “Yeah, you too.”  

I swallow hard as I hang up, locking my phone and staring at the ground. My mind is already racing with conflicting thoughts. 

Well, shit. 

Now, isn’t this the consequence of your own actions?  

But.. Jacob. 

Your job is more important, Charlotte. 

How do I tell him? I don’t think I can just let go of him. 

Well, you’re going to have to; you can’t just throw your career away. 

Maybe he wouldn’t care that I can only visit over the weekend.. 

Literally, you told him friends with benefits; this is your own fault. 

I can’t end it with him. I’ll break his heart. I can’t do that. 

You should have considered that when you decided getting laid was more important.  

I didn’t plan to fall for him. You don’t choose that. 

You chose to fuck with your job and his feelings.  

I just wanted to be happy. 

The thought sits in my mind; he makes me happy. Haunting me, I never anticipated it. Cass, what am I supposed to do? I found him, but I think I messed up. My throat starts to tighten. No, I can’t cry right now. Feeling the sting in my eyes, I look straight down at the ground, blinking the tears out. My breathing picks up as I stand here, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. I can’t do this right now. Taking a deep breath, I wipe my eyes carefully. 

“You just need to get through the rest of tonight,” I whisper. 

I slip back into the apartment, sliding my phone into my pocket as I grab my drink from the counter, looking over at Quinn.  

“Lottie… what’s wrong?” Quinn whispers to me.  Shit. 

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyes look like you were crying, babe..” 

I lie, “Oh, it’s just chilly out, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? Did we say too much?” They ask, grabbing my arm gently. 

I choke out a laugh, “No, no, I’m okay, I promise!” Forcing a smile before continuing, “The cold air just got me good, I guess.” 

“As long as you’re sure,” they look at me a little concerned but squeeze my arm a few times, padding back off to play with Iris. 

I sit on the couch, sipping on my drink. My phone vibrates against me, and I want to ignore it so badly, but I don’t. 

Jacob: i know youre at quinns but im bored without you 

Me: Miss me already? 

Jacob:  i may 

Maybe they’re all .. right? 

Me: I miss you too baby 

Maybe he is what I need.. 

Charlotte.. 

I’ll figure it out. I don’t want to lose him. 

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Once it was close to Iris’ bedtime, I took Mel’s lead and decided to head home. I start the drive, not even realizing the music isn’t playing through my speakers because I haven’t stopped talking to myself in my head. 

I can’t let him go. I haven’t felt like this before, and I don’t want to ruin it. The visual of him pulling me into his arms in his office plays in my mind. The quiet ‘oh honey’ that came out of him, basically choosing the pet name for me at that moment. He kept me in his arms until I was ready to be done. He does everything right. 

The look in his eyes when he watches me talk—the way he always reaches for my hand when we’ve done things. Something about him just draws me in, and I can’t figure out what it is. The pet name he chose, ‘Honey,’ feels so personal as if he only uses it for me. He always wants to pay for things or bring me places without hesitating. Maybe I do want more with him. My eyes fill with tears over the thought of him, oh, my precious boy. 

I pull my phone out once I’m parked and see his name already sitting on my lock screen. 

Jacob: i know youre driving but

Jacob: i hope you had fun with everyone. let me know when you make it home 🖤

I wipe my eyes before replying. How is he like this? He can’t be real. 

Me: I did! I just got home 🥰

Jacob: good :) i’m glad you had a good day 

I wish it were a little better. I pace my kitchen, and my hands shake as I try to think of what to say to him. It would probably be better if I just told him the truth. You should have started with the truth. I didn’t know I’d like him this much. 

I looked back down at my phone, staring at our messages. His little contact photo is sitting at the top, one of the pictures we took in Salem together; his smile was so genuine, and he looked so happy.  

Me: me too. How’s the bar tonight? 

Jacob: honestly, it’s not very busy so i’ll probably head up soon. Tomorrow will be hectic enough lol 

Oh my god. The bar’s anniversary is Wednesday. My heart starts to race as I remember that. I can’t tell him tomorrow. He’s already going to be busy, and I don’t want to do that. Then, the anniversary day. And then the holiday weekend and then I’ll be.. I’ll be back home and–

The anxiety coursing through my body as I try to figure out how to untangle this mess I created. I don’t think he’ll be mad, right? He said whatever I’m comfortable with, and maybe we can figure something out. What if he doesn’t want to deal with that?  

A new wave of panic sets in. What if he doesn’t..? No, there’s no way. The thought of him just calling it quits on everything because I don’t live close makes my chest ache. I feel like I know him better than that.. He would be sad, but I think he would tough it out.. Right? Questioning everything I think, every option starts to make me second-guess myself. 

I finally just stopped. Standing in the middle of my kitchen, it hits me all at once. My ears feel hot, and pain starts to form behind my eyes. I swear I can feel the blood coursing through my veins. I slowly squat down, setting my phone on the floor before dropping my face into my hands. 

“What did I do?” I whisper, my throat feeling tight as it comes out. I feel the tears start to sneak out, fuck. Finally sobbing out, “Cass, why aren’t you here?” 

I can’t hold back the sounds that come out after. I need her to tell me what to do or talk me off a ledge—something because I don’t know how to handle this anymore. I fully sit on the floor, feeling incredibly pathetic as I loudly cry into the quiet of my house. I can hear Jake’s voice in my head telling me to breathe; he’s always so good at handling things like this. 

After a few minutes, I picked up my phone and saw another notification from him.

Jacob: i think i’m sneaking out of here in like 10 mins and then i’m gonna shower but i’ll be free after that 

Jacob: if you want company 

Wiping my face, I stand up, grab my keys, and let the front door slam behind me. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I turn my music up loud this time; anything that’ll drown out the noise in my head. I focus entirely on the road until I reach a red light, looking at my phone quickly to see if he’s sent anything else. The thirty-minute drive felt like nothing. 

Me: are you out of the shower now?

I send him as I walk up the stairs to the apartment.  

Jacob: mhm literally just got dressed 

I knock on his door a few times, sliding my phone into my bag. The door creaks when he opens it, and his eyes widen when he sees me. He’s standing there in just his sweats, his hair still soaking wet from the shower, and just seeing him makes my heart slow down a little. 

“Hi,” I chirp out. 

He looks all over my face, “Is everything okay?” No. Everything is actually really terrible right now. 

“Just—” I hesitate. Don’t say it, just lie. Now is your chance to come clean, Charlotte. I know I should, but I–  “I found something of hers at the house, and I…” 

He grabs my hand, tugs me inside, shuts the door behind us, and pulls me into a hug. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers; the sound of my pet name makes me want to crawl into him. “Do you need anything?” 

I shake my head, tucking my face into him. Tears prick my eyes when I whisper back, “Just you.” 

“Well, you’re in luck then,” he tells me, kissing the side of my head. “I’m all yours.” 

God, I hope you still say that once I tell you everything. 

He tugs me along, bringing me to his room and grabbing a comfy sweatshirt from his closet before we crawl into bed. 

Quickly curling myself up into him, and let my face rest against his skin. The smell of his cologne is almost calming; he always smells warm, like cinnamon. Which feels fitting for him; he’s such a warm person, so comforting. 

It stayed quiet for a while, and we enjoyed each other’s presence as he ran his hand through my hair, and I traced shapes around the freckle on his stomach. 

He finally breaks the silence when he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, but also no. 

“No, it’s okay,” I tell him, glancing up at him. “Just not being alone is nice.” 

He tilts his head slightly, resting his lips against my forehead, pressing a kiss into me, and then mumbling, “Whatever helps hun.”

My throat tightens, and I try to take a deep breath subtly.  Just feeling his lips against my skin, his little breaths, and how he’s holding me, my heart starts to race again. 

I can’t lose him. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Twenty-One

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

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You check your watch as you run hurriedly into the elevator, almost tripping as you make your way inside. The doors start to close and you take a breath. Your eyes find the little numbers starting to go up and the elevator stops when you reach the third floor.

You pull out your phone to avoid the usual awkward elevator encounter and you see the shoes of a man as he enters and takes his place beside you. What catches your attention however are the familiar brown chelsea boots. You feel a familiar lump appear in your throat everytime you run into your apartment crush. It's the stupidest thing really, this thing you have for a man who you’ve only ever seen in passing. To be fair, he's one of the most attractive people you have ever seen, and he has this way about him where he'll look at you like he's in love even if he doesn’t know you. It's captivating to say the least.

You finally force yourself to look up, praying that no garbage spews out of your mouth as you do so. You take him in inch by inch. His blue jeans, one hand tossed loosely into the pocket and a sailors knot bracelet tied around his wrist. He wears a black button down which ties together dangerously low by only a single button and you swallow as you notice his perfectly tanned chest with a single coin necklace hanging down it. His chestnut hair falls in loose curls around his shoulders and his lips are pursed as he glances at his own phone, but when you finally get to his perfect chocolate eyes, he turns to meet yours. You quickly turn away with your heart thumping embarrassingly in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of that stupid smirk of his as he shakes his head, returning his attention to his phone.

Focusing your attention away, you return to the number. Three then four. Only two more floors until you make it home to your cat who desperately needs to be fed. You check your phone again, an anxious habit, and see that the time is 10:23pm. Not the latest you’ve been home this week, not the worst.

The elevator jolts a little and you look up to see Jake’s similar puzzled expression. You weren’t on the next floor already, right? Your heart drops into your stomach and you feel the panic start to set in as you realize that you are not indeed at the next floor, but rather stopped in between them.

It feels childish to say, but this is quite literally your worst fear and one of the main reasons you debated moving into this apartment at all - the lack of stairs. Suddenly the 4 metal walls feel like they're closing in on you and the reality that you're trapped inside them starts to send you into full blown panic. 

You should be acting like such a baby, you think. Elevators stop between floors all the time, in a couple seconds it should be moving again and then you’ll get home at a reasonable time to feed your cat. Or you’ll be stuck here for hours, or worse, the metal chords holding you inside of this death box could snap and you’ll plummet to your death next to the man you were too embarrassed to even talk to.

As you try to steady your breathing, you start frantically searching your bag for a water bottle. You must be practically heaving when you can’t find it because you feel Jake’s presence shifting to face you.

“Hey Y/N, are you alright?”

His words seem to glaze over your head. Part of you has heard them, but you can’t seem to generate words as your whole body feels like it’s shutting down. You force yourself to nod and you realize your hands are shaking and are covered in sweat as you lift them from your bag. You can tell he knows you’re bluffing and he takes a step closer.

“I’ll just press the help button. This has happened to me before, it's really no big deal.”

He smiles at you and your eyes meet him for the briefest second sending a warm chill up your spine. His hand reaches for the button to press for help and your eyes travel to his arm, the strong muscles under the rolled up sleeves.

You manage to nod your head and close your eyes trying to steady your breathing. You feel your chest rise and fall heavily and you step backward to lean your body on the wall. You stay there, trying to silence your breathing, but doing so only makes the problem worse and you can even hear yourself practically heaving for air.

It feels like the world might end and your chest starts to hurt as Jake turns to you again, this time looking much more concerned. 

“Really are you okay? It looks like you’re having a panic attack.”

You nod your head aggressively, unable to say much more.

“Okay how can I help?”

You try to speak, your words coming out broken and rushed, “I-I don’t know I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay. Take a deep breath okay? I’ll do it with you.”

He reaches his hands out and places them on your arms. 

“Is this okay?”

You nod your head slowly, allowing yourself to take a deep breath while his touch soothes you.

“Okay just breathe in with me, alright Y/n?”

You nod again and watch as he inhales slowly then exhales. You follow his breathing and close your eyes and after a few minutes, you feel your heartbeat finally slow. A minute later you open your eyes to find him smiling back at you. He removes his hands and takes a step back.

Taking one final deep breath you say, “that was fucking embarrassing.” You try to play it off with a laugh but he shakes his head.

“My sister used to get them. Panic attacks I mean, so I'm used to them, and helping people out. Really you have nothing to be embarrassed of, not with me, I promise.”

“Okay.” You whisper, smiling at the man in front of you. “Um how do you know my name?”

He looks down, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he laughs. “Sorry I realize that might be a bit creepy. Well, the actual answer might still be creepy. I um- you live across the hall from me right? And I just see your mail sometimes, so, sorry…”

“Oh no it’s okay! I don’t think it’s creepy, I was just wondering. I know your name too, Jake, if that makes you feel any better.”

You both laugh together, meeting eyes for just a second before casting yours downward. Something about his stare feels so intimate, so knowing, like you’re long lost friends.

“So you said this has happened before?” You ask biting your lip and pulling off a tab of skin, an anxious habit.

“Yeah a couple times, but usually it gets moving after a couple seconds.. so I’m afraid we might be stuck here for a bit. I’m good company though I swear.” 

He smiles again and you huff out a nervous laugh. You look up again at the number, stuck in between floors. You reach out to press the help button again.

“Isn’t this supposed to make some sort of sound? Like an alarm?” 

“I honestly have no idea.”

“My cat is supposed to get fed.” You pinch your brows together, shaking your head at your own carelessness. “I should have just gotten home earlier, if only I had just-“

Jake cuts you off with a question. “What’s your cat's name?”

You giggle a little at the innocence of his question. If there’s one thing he’s doing well is keeping you from panicking.

“Her name is Lily, and she gets nervous. Just like I do I guess.” You laugh again, looking down at your feet.

“That’s a nice name. You have a nice name too by the way. Y/n. It flows off the tongue nice.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Your blush deepens. 

Jake looks around at the floor for a moment before shrugging and taking a seat with his back leaning against the wall. 

“If we’re gonna be here for a while we might as well get comfortable.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” 

You sigh as your reality for the next however long sets in. At least you’re stuck here with Jake, although he does make you slightly nervous just by being him. You walk over and take a seat to his right. You sit and place your bag on your lap as you lean your head back. 

You hear him rummaging in his own backpack and you turn to see him pulling out some sort of bottle. You laugh out loud when you realize what it is- tequila.

He’s laughing too and says, “I just realized I had bought this on my way home, you know, just to have, but I can’t think of a more appropriate moment.”

“You’re right, that is kinda perfect.” You let a warm smile stretch across your face and you see a similar look on his.

His teeth are so perfect you notice, and his smile lines are sculpted so nicely. His eyes as well bring you some comfort in this moment, and you watch his strong fingers untwist the cap.

“Alright. This won’t be fun.”

Jake scrunches up his face and takes a quick swig from the bottle. He pulls it away coughing and contorting his face. He hands you the bottle wordlessly and you grab hold of the handle to take a long swig.

You do so almost reactionless and his mouth drops open. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as he chuckles.

“Damn girl, I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“Unfortunately after discovering the cure for anxiety I've gotten pretty good at using it. I’m not like… an alcoholic or anything though.”

“No, yeah I understand. It’s impressive is all.”

In the next few minutes the two of you take turns passing the bottle around until you feel the familiar burn settle low in your stomach and the dangerous loosening of your tongue.

Before you can stop yourself the words tumble out of your mouth, “So do you have a girlfriend?”

Your forwardness takes him by surprise and he blushes, laughing slightly. “Um I don’t, no. How about you? Making some guy really lucky?”

Now it’s your turn to blush and you cast your eyes downward as you realize what you’ve said, but of course you can’t find it in you to care.

“No, I'm very single.”

“What’s very single?”

“I don’t- I shouldn’t.” You pause, looking at him and he gestures with his hand for you to continue.

You take another quick drink from the bottle. 

“I haven’t gotten any in a minute, I'll leave it at that.”

Jake turns his head away, laughing into his hand.

“You’re funny Y/n, I can’t believe it's taken us getting trapped in an elevator for us to talk to each other.” 

“I know right! We’re friends now right? Because it would be weird if we went on after this to never speak again.”

“I think we’re friends, that is if you’ll have me of course.”

“Yeah of course Jake.” 

You both smile at each other for a beat too long before his gaze becomes too strong and you turn yours back to the wall. 

“How long do you think we’ll be in here for?” He asks.

A deep sigh escapes you and you turn to him feeling as though your head is light as a balloon.

“I don’t know Jake, I like talking to you so no offense, but I hope not much longer.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“How are we gonna pass the time?”

Jake thinks for a moment, taking another large swig before answering.

“I have an idea.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Alright, close your eyes.”

You giggle and close your eyes. You sense something, heat coming towards you and a second letter you feel something soft touching your lip.

Your lips instinctively part and Jake takes your bottom lip in his, kissing it slowly. You tilt your head and kiss him back, breathing into his mouth while your hands find their way around his shoulders.

Your reaction is delayed and you pull away quickly, looking into his opening eyes with a heaving chest.

“Jake, what about cameras?”

He lets a smile graze his face. “You worry too much Y/n.”

You smile and pull him closer to kiss him again. What were soft gentle kisses turn into heated ones and you allow his tongue to slip past your lips. His hands come up to your cheeks, pulling you even closer into his parted mouth. A small moan is exhaled from him and a whine from you before he pushes away for a moment just to whisper, “I’ve had a crush on you since I moved in.”

Every set of your being is set on fire, a need for him overtaking you. 

“Me too Jake. I want you, please.”

“Now that’s the most sure you’ve seemed about anything since we’ve been talking.” He huffs a laugh. 

“Shut up.” You giggle, closing your eyes to let his lips meet yours again.

His hands slide down to your neck, then down your body over your chest to your waist. Jake stands to his knees and crawls in front of you, trapping you against the wall as you part your legs to make room for him. 

He pulls away for a second. “I don’t know if this is what you were thinking, but I don’t have a condom on me.”

You think for a moment. 

“That’s okay, just touch me, please.”

You watch his smile turn to a smirk as he brings his lips back to yours. His hands touch your thighs, sliding upward towards the bottom of your skirt that you realize was the perfect thing to wear today. You straighten out your legs and his hands reach the tops of your thighs. You can feel yourself pulsing in two places as Jake’s hand cups over your center. 

His tongue licks into your mouth through a moan and you start to rock against his hand, chasing the small bit of friction. With one hand on your thigh to steady himself, the other pulls your panties to the side and slides through your slit with his fingers. Your breath hitches through the kiss and you break it to look down at his hand.

The veins bulge out of it as he slowly pushes a finger in. You tilt your head back and close your eyes as he curls it inside of you, pulling it back to push another one in. You look back at him to watch as he too stares down at where his hand touches you. He curls both fingers into you and you whine his name into the small room.

Jake tucks his lip under his teeth, and you can hear his own breathing pick up as he starts to push and pull his fingers into you. A second later he brings his thumb up to your clit, dragging it across every time he moves his other fingers. Your legs begin to squirm, and your toes curl in your sneakers as you near your release. 

Your stomach tightens and you bite your lip harshly as the sensations wash over you. It’s at this moment that the absurdity of your situation kicks in, even through the swirl of tequila in your system, and you laugh, startling Jake. He tilts his head as if to ask what’s wrong, and you shake your head.

“Wait Jake, stop.”

He pulls his hand away immediately, looking concerned, and you reach for his belt. You look up at him innocently, trying to hide away your smile as you push it through the loop and unbutton the button and unzip the zipper. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper, the smile stretching wider across your face.

He breaths out a curse and nods his head, his eyes clouded with lust. He watches your hands pull down the pants and he helps you. Soon he's only in a pair of plaid boxers and you let your hand roam over his already hard bulge. Your fingers tuck into his waistband and you pull down until his cock springs free, bobbing in front of your face. 

You want to take it into your mouth, feel it shoved down your throat, but you also want his hands on you again, so you lean back and grab him, stroking his length up and down. He exhales loudly as you run your fingers over his tip and back down to the base. Your eyes catch on his pubic hair, matching the color of his wavy brown locks, you smile to yourself.

You make a show of spreading your legs for him, hiking up your skirt in the process so he has a good view. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers, letting his own head fall back momentarily while your hand gives him a little squeeze.

He brings his fingers back to your entrance, thrusting them forward with a pressure that reminds you of where you left off, and with his thumb circling your clit once more, you already feel halfway there.

In the small metal box, the heat rises as your bodies move in sync with each other, chests rising and falling rapidly as your hands work each other towards release. Every once in a while your lips will reconnect, tongues searching for one another desperately. He tastes like tequila and honey, and you moan into his mouth, waiting to feel him even more, if possible.

You let your hand pick up speed and he matches your tempo, bodies both eager to cum. You look down at the tendons in his arm flexing as he moves. You can feel his strength too in the way his fingers curl boldly with power. 

Through heavy breaths, Jake chokes out, sounding desperate and needy, “Come on Y/n, give it to me, pretty girl.”

His words hit you just right and soon your walls are tightening and you’re gushing his hand as your legs tremble and close around him. His name rolls off your tongue and your eyes roll back while his hand continues to move inside of you.

All it takes for him is the feeling of you cumming all over his fingers and he rushes out, “Where do you want me to cum?!”

Without thinking, you lean your face forward, mouth open. You bring his tip to your tongue and jerk him with your hand until he's shooting hot white spurts of cum all over your mouth. His hand slows and his cock twitches wildly in yours. He grunts with every exhale, whining finally as your mouth sucks around the tip of his cock, cleaning off any remaining cum.

You look up at him while you do so and watch as he brings his own cum covered hand to his mouth. He sucks on his fingers through a smirk and then leans down to kiss you once more. You both taste yourself on the others tongue, humming through the slow kiss. You can hear it too, the wetness of your mouths on each other.

You break away and stare into each other's eyes for just a moment. It feels intimate in a way that almost scares you. You both wait for the other to speak before something unthinkable happens. The elevator starts to move upward. A panicked look appears on both of your faces and you scramble to grab your bag and fix your appearance. Jake rushes to pull his pants back up, tucking his cock away while you smooth over your skirt and hair and turn towards the doors of the elevator.

To make matters worse, when the doors open, three firefighters are standing outside. The next few minutes are a blur, but the two of you finally finish talking to the men and explaining what happened, (them obviously sensing something weird between the two of you), before walking away.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You repeat, finding yourself once again captivated by his stare.

“Crazy night huh?”

You giggle and nod along with him while you walk down your shared hallway.

“Listen, I’d love to meet Lily sometime, if you’ll have me, but I think I should sleep off this tequila and get ready for work tomorrow.” “I’d love to have you over Jake. Just knock, literally… just knock, I’m always home.” You chuckle.

You quickly type your number into his phone and he kisses you one more time on the lips while you blush. You turn and enter your apartments simultaneously, smiling and blushing at each other until the moment the doors close. You turn to your apartment, finding an angry cat meowing in front of you. You laugh and go to feed your cat, thinking still of the charming man in the elevator. 

.

.

Your belly was still heavy at your front, but everything else felt so loose. Weightless. It was nice.

Josh had decided afterwards that it was a good plan to get a couple of smoothies. And who were you to argue that? It was even more tempting since he’d offered to buy them.

The drive to and from all of your ventures had been nice. You two had listened to music most of the car ride – enjoying the soul music you’d both bonded over several years ago. 

But, as soon as “You’re All I Need To Get By” came on the shuffle, you quickly reached forward to skip past that one. And, it must have been your lucky day because as soon as that one was out of the way, the other song from that morning on the living room floor was playing. 

"(You Make Me Feel Like) A (motherfucking) Natural Woman", to your lovely surprise. Because why not?

The only songs you’d skipped and, of course, Josh had noticed. 

He’d snorted at you, making you glance in his direction. “What did Miss Aretha do to you?” 

“Nothing,” you shook your head with a lip stuck out. “Just didn’t feel like listening to those songs, I guess.”

I imagine your brother stark naked, inside of me, when I hear those songs, if you must know, you thought with a skip to your heart at the memory. And that’s just not what I need at the moment, Joshua.

And, with absolutely zero surprise, you were back in that damn living room. No point in skipping the songs, it seemed. The gray morning, rain pittering against the windows. The stupid idea you’d had, forever haunting your association with the Queen of Soul.

You’d just sat up on your elbows to watch him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

And, as he’d searched through the albums, you’d just let your mind wander, right along with your eyes. . .

His body was a work of art. Always would be. Your favorite work of art. 

His thighs, ever-muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. 

That perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. 

And his broad shoulders – strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he’d turned a bit towards you, you’d been given an image you’d never forget. His eyes, quickly scanning the back of a vinyl. And as he did so, your eyes had instantly found his straining dick. 

And, in the current moment, right next to his goddamned twin brother, you had to cross your damn legs at the thought of Jake’s dick. Fuck everything. Even if you shouldn't, all you wanted was Jacob Kiszka. All. You. Wanted. It was stupid to ever think you could convince yourself out of that particular desire. 

You could still imagine every detail from the morning. His tip, swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched in current time at the thought, remembering how he'd still glistened from your dripping center. 

He’d turned to you fully, the Aretha Franklin vinyl in his grip – her Greatest Hits. You’d found his eyes. They were questioning, but you hadn’t been able to focus entirely on his glance. No, you’d looked away from his eyes to admire your most favorite parts of his body. 

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck. They made you fucking weak.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. 

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura would always be compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling amber-brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks – even longer now than then – and his sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. 

(And control you with a simple snap of his fingers.)

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of.

And, in moments from the past, like the sacred one you were remembering. . . you remember wishing everyday – more than anything – that he was yours. Still wanted him to be yours. You could remember thinking. . . no matter how bad you could be for him, your selfish wants had you constantly feeling pulled towards Jake.

But. . . he wasn’t yours. Not then. Not now. 

And that bitter thought had helped to snap you out of your trance on that simplistic, perfect morning. You'd finally looked at him to answer. 

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

Your thighs pressed even closer together as you tapped out the beat of the current song on your thighs. A Minnie Riperton song. Just focus on Minnie. Tried to remember the moment you were currently in. . . But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Wait. Minnie. This song. You focused for a second. Was fucking "Memory Lane" playing? O-kay. Your life was truly hilarious. (Meaning, it was, in fact, not hilarious in the slightest.)

You tried to tune her out, rejecting the lyrics that hit far too close to home for your taste. But all that happened when you tuned her out, was Jake repeating the statement about your body. . . You could only hear those words from his mouth on repeat when you squeezed your eyes shut, so tightly.

With a gentle touch, you placed a hand to the bottom of your tummy to hold it. Your body now was nowhere near the same as it had been then. . . 

How the fuck would he talk about your body now? You knew how he felt about some of your newer assets. But. . . how would it feel now to hear him say things like that about your body? During sex? His dick, impossibly hard and leaking for your current, swollen body? Your belly, your bigger breasts? Your fuller thighs. . . Would he look at you the same during sex now? 

Fuck. Why were you even thinking like that?! You were imagining things that were only breaking your heart. . . Getting your mind in a dangerous space it did not need to be in.

Realizing it was slightly safer in your memories, you leaned back against your headrest to feel the rest of the moment.

You’d flushed at the words then. Even going the extra mile to roll your eyes. Tried your best to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Ridiculous attempt. With a peek briefly at the record, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He’d turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew he’d made the right choice. This record was something else.

And now, the Greatest Hits vinyl held your heart in ways you could’ve never imagined on that rainy morning.

You could remember how it felt to watch him – the intoxicating combination of seeing him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit. (If you know, you fucking know.)

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he’d said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. So near to you and ready to resume sex with you. There'd been no constraints. No girlfriends. No ugly voice in the back of your head telling you how terrible you were for him. Things were still perfect. 

You’d smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

God. You felt tears climbing your throat, right next to Josh, as you thought of his sweet face. The smile on his lips that could have cured every single piece of trauma ever. . . If you would have let it. He was so goddamn perfect. And you were. . . well. . . you.

Then, he’d come back to you. Laid on his back for you as you angled your body to straddle him, sinking onto him.

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He’d always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your center that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . 

But, in moments like this one, with one hand holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world had always tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like the one from many mornings ago. . . Those moments had never failed to make a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. 

And, as you’d listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

The song had perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had once been the bane of your existence, was now a light on your darkest days. 

And, in the present time. . . the father of your baby. Fuck.

As you’d glanced down to watch him, his hips had begun to move on their own – never failing to make you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

Having him around made you feel . . . whole. Without even knowing or trying, he’d helped you find missing pieces to your puzzle. Found hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good pieces. Some bad pieces. But all necessary pieces of you. Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. And by simply being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you’d continued riding him, you had leaned down on your forearms to get close to his face. His handsome, handsome face. You’d given him a long kiss. A kiss that you’d hoped, then, was able to say thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. 

But when you’d separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you’d found the deep pools of his eyes that held so much of your world in them. And you’d known then that you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you’d whispered, hoping he’d understand as new tears had clouded your vision. Your hips were moving languidly at the perfect pace, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You’d been holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the beautiful, now-special song.

He’d held your gaze for more than a few moments, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You’d studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match the longing in your heart. Both of you had stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. 

You’d kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you’d focused on finding a release for you both. 

That hadn’t even been “You’re All I Need To Get By”. . . Not yet. No, that song, that blissful melody from your memory, was “You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman)”. . . And that he did – he made you feel like the melodies of that song. Always would. He was every lyric of that song, sealed forever in your heart that way.

But the next song. . . When you’d fallen apart on top of him. And him, just barely pulling out in time, to finish onto your tummy. . . All while the song had been surrounding you, enveloping your senses. . .

“Y/n!” Josh’s voice called to you from the current moment, his fingers making you jump a bit, your eyes hurriedly blinking open as he continued to snap in front of your face. “Earth to y/n!”

Fuck. How were you going to explain getting lost like that? Thankfully, your eyes had been closed almost the entire time. You could just say you’d been sleeping. 

“I was just sleeping, Josh,” you lamely explained, looking to your right, hoping you were already at the cafe.

And, for once, fate had worked in your favor, as he’d just parallel parked at Jungle Juice. Perfect timing. Avoid avoid avoid.

You hadn’t missed the curious look in his eye after your barely-there explanation or the way he’d opened his mouth to begin to question you. But as soon as he’d parked, you were hopping out of that Jetta. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were just sitting down, pomegranate smoothie in hand, at a table inside. Josh was still at the counter, you having instantly put distance between the two of you. As you sat, your mind briefly drifted to the mundane task of taking a seat. You noticed how much easier than normal it was to simply sit comfortably, thanks to the yoga. 

Soon, Josh was sitting down across from you. And, after he took one tiny drink of his smoothie, he pushed it ahead of him with a huff. His fluffy mess of curls flowed around his head with the noise. 

There should’ve been no surprise when he didn’t drop what you'd started in the car. His ass had practically just touched his booth bench when he was asking you. “What the fuck is it with those songs?”

“What?” You crinkled your brow at that. He hadn’t ever been around before for you to skip past those songs. For all he knew, you’d literally fallen asleep after the relaxing yoga class. “Just didn’t feel like hearing them today. And I got tire–.”

“Jake gets weird when they come on, too. . .,” he interrupted with a raised brow, trailing off as if lost in thought while addressing you. “Specifically “You’re All I Need”,” he mumbled, sort of to himself as he looked down at the table. Then his eyes flashed back to yours. “And, no. You were not sleeping. Faker.”

Damn. Yeah, there was no explaining your way out of this one. Were you really going to have to be honest with him? It did not feel like the time – for more reasons than one. But you decided you’d say what you could. . . Maybe you could make him uncomfortable enough to move on. . .

“Jake and I just had some incredible sex to those songs,” you began, eyes not once leaving his. He held firm, even after that blatant statement. Okay. Second try. But you had to look down for this part, too embarrassed to look at Josh as you said it. “Got really close to making the baby that morning rather than the night we got high. He pulled out just in time to aim it on my bell–.”

“Noooo thanks,” the curly-headed twin stopped you, holding up a hand with his lips turned down. “That’s enough. Truly. Thank you, I now know what I need to know.”

You raised a brow, a tiny smirk on your lips as a laugh squeaked past your lips. “Joshua. You didn’t need to know any of that.”

“Well. . . maybe you’re right,” he surmised with another small sip from his green drink. 

“I usually am,” you answered, relieved that he’d gotten all he wanted – no, needed – to know. “So, how are things going with–?” “Also, you are not ‘usually right’, my dear,” he corrected you, air quotes and all. His nose twitched with his own grin as he watched you narrow your eyes in his direction. “I can tell you that right now. Your little speech from last night. . . You and Jake both. Fuck,” he snorted before taking another drink. He covered his mouth with a silent laugh before smoothing the hand down the side of his face. “Both of you are the worst liars to ever live.”

The breath you should’ve been breathing got stuck in your lungs. Where was he going with this? This had the potential to be an extremely embarrassing and awkward conversation you weren’t in the headspace to have. “What are you talking about, Josh?” 

“You and my twin, claiming you were ‘nothing’,” he began, lips quirked with a close-lipped grin and the air quotes coming out to play again with the word you’d both used to describe your situationship. “That all your relationship was was one night of meaningless sex that resulted in my niece or nephew.”

Niece, you silently added. You suddenly wanted to tell him really badly. But you would let Jake do that. Made a note to tell him he could do that whenever he was ready. 

“I just find it funny,” he finished, his mouth still curved into a smirk. “I’m pretty sure we all knew that you were lying out of your asses. Well. . . except for that Theo guy. He’s kind of a moron.”

How did you even respond to this? Did you lie? Confide? Half-heartedly agree? Completely avoid it and tell him you didn’t want to discuss it? Fuck if you knew. 

So, you just began talking. 

“How are you so confident in this assumption that we were lying about it being nothing?” You quizzed him, taking a drink to hide a little. “You didn’t even know that we were doing it while we were doing it. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you didn’t know because it was nothing more than sex?”

“Oh, y/n. How in the world can you begin to question my empathic tendencies? You know I’d sensed the difference in Jake,” he reminded you, noting back to your day of the first OB appointment. “And, the more I thought back on it, I remember there being a rise in your spirits during the summertime as well. . . Only towards the end of it did you get all mopey. When, I can only assume, you started doubting yourself and Jacob. Enough so that Jake wanted to host a night to raise your spirits. . .,” he trailed off, taking another drink before tapping a finger to his chin, sitting the cup on the table.

“But, yes. You were nothing, mhm,” he continued with a sardonic nod, closing his eyes briefly with a mischievous grin before he was looking at you again. “You both were noticeably different – good different. And he noticed every shift in your mood. . . You got emotional way back on the day of that first ultrasound when I brought up his relationship with Maya. . . Um, what else? Oh! The motherfucker takes you to therapy! Of course he does, because you feel safe with him. Big fucking deal, by the way. And, yes, I know all of this, y/n – I’m watchful. Don’t you argue that fact with me,” he pointed at you with a raised brow and a slight smile. “. . .But. You were nothing. Okay.”

Well. “I–.”

“And then last night,” Josh giggled, taking a sip of his smoothie before placing his hands on the table in excitement. “Jake had his hands up your shorts, touching you. . . like that in front of everyone–.” 

“It was a card he was playing, Jo–.”

“. . .Whispering in your ear, your fuckin’ body reacting to it. His bodily reaction to it – I mean, with an unfortunate glance downwards, anyone was privy to that situation in his pants,” he outwardly cringed, lips turned down as he shook his head at the thought. He’d been that noticeably hard? Fuck. “And then, going to the bathroom to relieve himself with everyone in the living room!” Josh couldn’t stop his wail of a laugh at the end of the last line, attracting multiple eyes from fellow customers at the sound. 

“Josh, be quiet–,” you tried to intervene, once again getting stopped with his rambling.

“Well, not everyone, per se. I wish Elsie could have experienced that shit,” he shook his head again, but this time with a laugh as if remembering a fond memory. “She would have gotten a kick out of the free porn!”

Free PORN?! Josh.

“Joshua!” You were stunned, his voice still a higher decibel than it should have been for a proper establishment like Jungle Juice. Voice hushed, you leaned towards him. “Please quiet the fuck down.”

He observed your expression, still cackling. But soon, it calmed down. Calmed down enough to where he was still letting out little huffs of laughter, but his eyes bulged a bit. He seemed to remember at that very moment that it wasn’t just the two of you. Face set straighter than before, he turned, looking around to hastily address the people near you with an apology. 

Meanwhile, your cheeks were positively burning at everything he’d said. How in the hell did you even begin to address that shit? And why was it always on you and never Jake? 

When he was facing you again, you decided to try that line. Just to gain your bearings. “Are you going to quiz Jake like this? Or is it only the emotional pregnant lady who’s getting the heat?”

“Oh, he got it first. I actually crashed his and Maya’s morning this morning,” he replied, waving it off. Your stomach dropped at the thought of them in bed together, like you knew it shouldn’t. “Well. . . if I can even phrase it as such. Maya was getting completely ignored by him. He’d separated himself as much as possible from her, his body was practically pushed against the wall. I know she noticed how far detached he was, though. . . She was looking his way when I barged in, a sad look on her face and everything. Poor thing. Didn’t take much for me to make her leave.”

The way you snorted at that was unstoppable. He what? “Josh! You made her leave?”

“Well, again – if I can even phrase it like that,” he shrugged, one hand waving nonchalantly in the air with a roll of his eyes. “Like I said, she was already awake when I went in. I think she’d just woken up to notice he’d pulled totally away from her,” he grit his teeth, baring them with a hiss as he shook his head. “So it didn’t take much more than me asking if I could please talk to my brother for her to leave. She was already kind of pissy, so she readily agreed. I’m sure she thought I was going to confront him about blatantly cheating on her in front of us all.”

Blatantly cheating. Harsh words. True words. You felt guilty at them. Because, yes, you’d completely joined in on Jake’s antics – helped him be unfaithful to her. To be fair, you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried. . . Hence your new determination to be nothing more than a friend. 

As much as it sucked.

“Did you? Confront him?” Was all you could croak out. 

“I did confront him about it, yes,” he nodded assuredly, his tone stern. Damn. Was he actually super pissed? Why had he been all giggly if he was so angry? 

So, you started apologizing. You felt really bad and you didn’t know what else to do. 

“I’m sorry, Josh. I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t–.”

“Help yourself?” 

You blinked with a nervous gulp. “Yes. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, of course not,” he replied, intonation light once again. You blinked again, this time in shock at the change in attitude. He continued before you could question it. “He couldn’t either, it seemed. There was no other reason for him to act so rashly in front of all of us.”

It was silent for a few seconds, your brain blanking on what to even respond to that. You were curious what he’d said to Jake. What Jake had responded. But you were scared to ask – didn’t want to make even more of an ass out of yourself by prying. 

Thankfully, Josh kept on before you could consider it any longer. “So, I told him this morning,” Yes! He was going to divulge. You tried not to look too interested. He cleared his throat, his eyes finding yours seriously, your stomach dropping at what he could have said. “I told him that if he’s going to do that shit, he needs to keep it out of Maya’s sight. Because, while I don’t condone cheating, I do condone my brother being happy. And hopefully, she’ll be out of the picture soon anyway, so the cheating won’t even have to be a thought. Keeping it out of her sight and all - won’t be an issue.”

Stunned. You were stunned. What the fuck?! Josh had told him what?!

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Your eyes, wide and expression shocked. The way your mouth hung open would have been more embarrassing had you been more aware of how much it gaped. But before you could give it much more thought, you were talking without thinking. 

“Excuse me?” You responded, rather loudly, you must say. "You told him what?!"

“Y/n!” Josh laughed, eyes bugged, pointing towards you before waving his hands theatrically around the restaurant. “‘Please quiet the fuck down.’”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: I, personally, value Josh's opinions on the matter...... what about you? ;)

also. free porn. l m a o.

Taglist:

@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

Jackie And Wilson - Hozier "I need to be youthfully felt, cause God, I never felt young- She's gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“I’ll see you later, right?”

Her smile beamed at me, her hands pressed against my chest, and she giggled, “Yes, babe. I promise.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you go then,” I tell her, moving my hand to hold her jaw. “Actually–  wait, one more.” I pull her in, keeping the kiss for as long as I can. 

“Baby,” she laughs against my lips, her hands tapping me as I pepper her face with little pecks. Anything to hear her laugh. “Okay, okay, okay!” Her hands grabbed my face and pushed me away, but the way she was looking at me made my insides want to explode. 

She sits in the driver’s seat, looks back up at me, and cuts me off before I can even spit out anything. “Yes, I’ll text you when I get there.” 

“Drive safe, Hun,” telling her as I push her door shut. I was slowly wandering back to the bar, just scrolling through emails and hearing the chime ring, when I pulled the door open. 

Tossing my phone onto the counter and going to the back room to grab a few things, I hear the back door open. 

“Goodmorning!” Josh’s voice sings into the hallway. 

Walking out to find him, an arm full of beer, I see him making his rounds throughout the tables. 

“Well, good morning to you too,” I chuckle, watching him fight with one of the chairs as the feet are puzzled in with the table leg. 

I’m stocking beer and checking to see what else we need when I feel his presence behind me. 

“How’s Charlotte?” he asks, and I can hear the smirk on his face. I should have known that it would come up; I’ve been distracted lately, so we’ve not had a chance to discuss it. 

“Uh, she’s good,” I let out timidly. He’s aware of the agreement she and I made originally, but I haven’t really said much about how I’m feeling to him yet. “How’s Quinn?” 

“They’re great—,” he says. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together, huh?” 

Shit. I glance over at him, fighting the urge to smile, humming, “mhm.”

Grabbing a towel and starting to wipe down the bar top, I feel him grab my shoulder, making me look at him. 

“I haven’t seen you this happy in a while,” he pauses for a second. “It's refreshing.”

I guess I hadn’t realized that my mood, in general, was different.  The smile creeps onto my face as we look at each other, “It really is.” 

“Are you still just ‘friends’?” He asks, adding the quotes for emphasis. 

I nod reluctantly, “Mhm.” 

“You know, you’re lying to yourselves, right?” He laughs loudly. 

Yeah, but I don’t want to scare her away. 

I look over at him, “I’m just letting her call the shots, and if she doesn’t want to claim it’s something else, then..” 

“Oh, you lovesick little puppy,” his head falls to the side as he looks at me. “She’ll come around. From what Quinn’s said, she definitely enjoys you.” 

My heart shakes at the thought; I really hope she does. 

The door chimes as a supplier walks in, distracting us finally from my weird love life situation. But just because Josh and I stopped talking does not mean my brain did. 

What if she doesn’t come around? Maybe she really is just in it for the sex while she’s here? There’s literally no way that she needs to be still training Mel at this point.. Josh was done in like two days when I had him take the certification. Oh..oh my god? Wait– it’s an online thing, why is she..? My thoughts run rampant with what ifs and why’s, making my hands shake as I sign for the delivery that just came in. I need to figure out how she’s feeling, but I can’t do this with Josh. The idea hits me.  

Me: hi so I need some … help.

I text into a group chat, hoping that they’ll be receptive and not make it worse. 

Quinn: are you okay??? 

Willa: 👀 what kind

Mel: oh??

Me: just girl related help and I can’t ask my brothers. 

Me: will you come get coffee to make this easier? 

Quinn: I THOUGHT THE DAY WOULD NEVER COME

Mel: I just have to drop Iris off real quick

Willa: OMG SAY LESS 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I wait out front of the coffee shop down the street until I see them coming up. 

“You didn’t have to wait for us,” Willa says as they get closer. 

I prop open the door for them, gesturing for them to go first, “Oh, I don’t mind.”

I followed them all up to the counter and gave them a second to look at the menu before asking, “Do you know what you want?”

A resounding ‘yes’ came from them, so I walked up, ordering first, and then nodded to the rest of them. They ordered whatever they wanted one by one, and I quickly handed my card over to cover it. Listening to all three of them quietly yell at me for paying, but knowing they are taking time out of their day to come listen to my woes, it’s the least I can do. 

They all let out a ‘thank you’ of some sort as the girl handed my card back to me. 

Once everyone was situated and we found a comfortable spot, they just stared at me, waiting. 

“Alright, kid, spill,” Quinn pipes up as they go to sip on their drink. 

“Well… I sort of don’t know what to do about Charlotte,” I admit. The nerves hit me immediately when it came out. 

Quinn quickly asks, “What do you mean?” There’s no way they don’t know.  

“Uhh.. I just.. she and I have been… um,” I hesitate to say it, but Willa cuts me off before I can. 

“Been what? Spit it out!”

I can feel the heat in my face, asking, “You guys really don’t know?” 

I watch as they all look at each other, but nobody is really reacting. How? 

“There’s no way you don’t,” I mumble as I side-eye them.  

Quinn caves first, “Okay, yes, we know.” 

“But, tell us how you feel, though!” Mel chimes in right away. Oh, that’s a loaded thing to ask. 

“I mean, she’s incredible,” I start, but I can’t stop. “She’s so sweet, even if it took a little while to open up. She’s secretly so funny and nerdy, and my god, she’s beautiful. I just–” 

Willa stopped me mid-thought with a loud “OH.” They all glance at each other again; I hate this. “We knew you two were sleeping together, but–”  

My face is absolutely bright red at this point, and I reluctantly ask, “I’m assuming she’s told you about that, then?” 

“Nothing.. Crazy..” Quinn’s voice trailed off, glancing over to Willa. 

She chimes in with, “Obviously just the normal stuff..” passing the look over to Mel. 

“Girls have to share stories sometimes, you know?”  

My hands run through my hair as I watch them beat around the bush about it, letting a small ‘oh no’ slip out. 

Quinn quietly says, “Don’t get too stressed about it, Captain.” They’re hitting me with a wink after they say it. FUCK. I hide my face in my hands for a second, listening to the three of them giggle at my pain. 

I can’t stop the “Well, shit” from coming out. I should have known. Quinn naturally would hang onto that just to torture me. 

“All outstanding reviews, though. Don’t worry,” Willa says, her eyebrows raised as she sips on her coffee.  

My head whips up to look at her, “Really..?”

She nods quickly, as do the other two. 

“What does she– no, that’s not important,” I stop myself from getting distracted.  “I just don’t know.. how she feels, and it makes me feel a little insane.” 

“Wait, what else are you feeling?”

“Yeah, give us more details.” 

I sighed before starting, “She just makes everything better. She pushed me not to check my phone when we went to Salem so I could enjoy the day off, and it was.. great. She can distract me enough from everything else going on that I forget about being stressed out. I’ve never slept better than when she stays the night with me. I mean, I just..” 

“Oh,” Quinn lets out, looking at the other two. Mel’s hand flew up to cover her mouth, and Willa’s shit-eating grin was plastered across her face. Oh god, that’s not good. 

“What?” I ask, knowing I might regret that.

“Jake…” Willa starts before whispering, “You love her.” 

My hand finds comfort on the back of my neck, and the blood rushes back into my face when I stumble over my words, “I.. haha.. Um..”

Quinn laughed, “Oh, I might cry.”  

“Don’t- if you start, I will too,” Willa joins in.  

“I just don’t want to mess up whatever’s going on, and I want to figure out how she feels because I don’t know if I fucked up by letting myself fall for her,” I admit.  

Mel finally chimes in, “Jake- you didn’t fuck up. You can’t control who you fall in love with.”

In love. 

“There’s no way that she isn’t at least on kind of the same page as you,” Willa immediately tried to help, which naturally was followed up quickly by her counterpart. 

“We see how the two of you interact. Even if she isn’t maybe as far down the rabbit hole as you, she’s at least sitting on the edge of it blushing and kicking her feet,” Quinn says. God, they really do spend too much time around Josh.  

“Okay. I think I’ve just been too in my head about it. I also hadn’t really processed the feeling, but then the other night, I don’t know what was different,” I can’t stop letting out little truths. 

“It’s okay to be scared, Jake,” Quinn says quietly, rubbing my arm. 

I shake my head subtly, “I know, and I just-” Mel’s voice playing in my head again, in love. 

Mel speaks up before I start to spiral, “If she doesn’t feel the same way about you, she’s dumb as hell.” 

“Honestly!” Willa chimes in quickly. “And Jake, just because she isn’t outwardly saying how she feels about you doesn’t mean it isn’t in there.”

They’re all right. It’s normal to be scared. There’s a chance she feels the same way. I can’t control it. 

“Thank you,” I let out quietly.

Quinn speaking up again, “Do you feel better?” 

I nod before sipping on my coffee again, unable to fight the urge any longer and asking, “So.. what did she say about me?” My eyebrow raises, looking amidst the three of them. I’m still a man at the end of the day, and knowing she told them about our sex life.. I need to know. 

They all laugh at the question, but naturally, Willa is the first to say something. 

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” she says, making us all laugh. “You’re so quiet and unsuspecting; when she told us I almost didn’t buy that it was you.”

I can feel the heat rushing back into my face, almost regretting the decision to ask, but it’s interesting to hear what she would have said to them. 

“Also– is it just ‘captain’ or does she call you other things too?” Quinn asks. 

I about choke when I hear it, quietly saying, “I’m not going to answer that.” I scratch the back of my head as I’m trying to avoid eye contact. 

The three of them almost scream at the response. No, maybe I do regret asking. 

“I mean, she must also be something if it’s bringing that out of you,” Mel says, wide-eyed 

I shake my head at the statement, “You have no idea.” Thinking of the fact she initiates a lot of what we do, the way she just takes control, she’s comfortable being in charge or letting me throw her around. “If you thought, I was deceiving, holy shit.” 

“Stop!”

“No?!”

“I’m so serious, she’s..” I pause, not really even sure what word to use. My eyes just go wide trying to come up with a good word. 

“That good huh?” Quinn taunts, making me laugh. I lean back into my chair, covering my face, why am I embarrassed? It’s not that big of a deal. 

A collective ‘OOOOO’ from the peanut gallery makes me laugh harder, knowing that they’re eating this up. I am grateful to have a handful of people in my life that I can at least bring this up to; there’s no way I could have had this conversation with the boys. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough torture for today,” I try to cut them off. We all sit there for a little bit longer, just talking about the plans for Thursday, since basically all of us will be with my parents anyway. Danny usually joins us at some point because my mom loves him like her own, so I’m sure Mel and Iris will be hanging out with us, too. Which is completely fine and I’m not at all jealous. It’ll be nice to spend the day with everyone and not be at the bar, I hope. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After we all left the emergency meeting, I came back to help Josh out for a bit and make sure everything was put away and written down. It distracted me for a bit but, once I was almost done, it hit me. She hasn’t said anything. I tap my phone and see my lock screen empty. Glancing around the bar, I’ll just make sure she’s good; I toss my phone into my pocket and then find Josh to let him know. 

The cold air hits me as I walk out into the alley behind the bar, pulling my phone out and tapping on her name to call her. I know she’s realistically okay, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling nervous. 

“Hi,” her sweet voice rings through my phone. 

The instant relief of hearing her– indescribable. 

“Hey, you. How are you?” 

“I’m good? Why are you-” she starts to ask, but then a little gasp leaves her. “Oh my god, I didn’t realize how late it was.”  I can’t help but laugh at her being shocked. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me! I was working and apparently was very focused on it.”   

I choke back another laugh at her scolding me, “I’m sorry, honey.” 

“You don’t sound sorry,” She mumbles; I can see the scowl she probably has on her face in my head.                  

Dramatically holding over my heart for the effect and pulling out my English accent to really drive it home, “Oh! I am so so sorry, my dear Charlotte. I would never laugh at you for such a responsible and honorable act!” My heart swells at her laugh; I want to listen to that forever.  

“Okay, now I believe you,” she giggles. “I can leave in a few minutes to come back.”

The bar isn’t that busy since it’s .. Sunday.. Josh probably wants the money anyway. 

“I can come to you,” I ramble out quickly. She always comes here, and it’s the least I can do. 

She’s quiet for a second, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I tell her. “You drive here enough. Just send me the address.” 

Her voice gets small when she says, “Okay.” 

“Do you want me to bring you anything? Do you need food?” 

“No, I’m okay,” She tells me through a little laugh.  “Just bring yourself; that’s enough.” 

My chest feels weird when she says it, I’m enough. I hate that she makes me so nervous. I stumble over my words, “Uh, I can do that, definitely.” 

“I’d hope so,” she laughs. “Let me know when you’re about to leave?” 

“Of course.”

“Good.” 

We both pause, and the silence feels deafening. The urge to let it out, I love you, is so strong, but I choke it back.  

Opening the back door to the bar, I clear my throat semi-uncomfortably, “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay,” her voice is soft. “Drive safe.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I quickly find my way back behind the bar, standing close to Josh when I ask, “Hey, you’re fine closing tonight, right?”

“That is what I’m scheduled for,” he chuckles to himself.  “Do you have plans?” 

“I may have made some.. Like two minutes ago,” I tell him quietly, rubbing the back of my neck. He knows me a little too well. 

“Yes, I can close the bar,” he says, turning to look at me.  “Go get laid!” 

I laugh and shove his shoulder gently, “That’s not why I’m going!” 

“Are you trying to tell me it isn’t going to happen?” His eyebrow may as well be touching his hairline with how high it’s raised. 

I hesitate for far too long, he’s right. Finally letting out, “..Touche. Have a good night.” Patting his shoulder a few times before saying, “Love you bub! Thank you!” and scurrying down the hall, pulling my phone out to let her know. 

Me: I’m on my way

Charlotte: okay drive safe baby 

The drive isn’t terribly long but, long enough for my mind to wander. They have to be right. There’s no way that we’ve hung out and spent so much time together, that she doesn’t at least have some feelings for me. The visual of her smiling at me in Salem as we went to take a picture together sits in my mind. She looked so happy, her hand gently sitting on my stomach, the way she looked at my lips to get me to fully smile for her. Maybe I am lovesick, Jesus christ. 

The way she’s started just calling me pet names rather than ‘Jacob’ all the time, makes my stomach turn. Always calling me ‘baby’ and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing it. Anything if it keeps her around. 

I run my hand over my face, looking down at my phone, seeing I only have a few minutes left. I turn the volume up on my music to try and just focus on driving for a second before I let her infiltrate my every thought again.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

As I pull into her driveway, I see her standing outside at the top of the steps. The grin was already plastered on my face as I quickly parked. 

“Hiii,” her sweet voice rings quietly as I walk up to her. Her arms stretch out as I get closer, leaning into me before I can climb the three steps to meet her. She wraps her arms around my neck in a hug, snuggling her face into me immediately. 

“Why are you out here?” I mumble into her. 

Her voice was muffled when she said, “I missed you.” 

“Ohhh,” I coo. “Honey, I missed you all day.” 

It feels ridiculous to say that it’s the truth, but it is. I’ve been so spoiled with her presence so much the last week that spending any amount of time away from her feels like torture. Lifting her off the step, she wraps her legs around me with a slight giggle in my ear. I tighten my arms around her; nothing feels close enough. 

She leans back, looking down at me, her sweet little smile as she stares at me. Beautiful girl, I could stare at you forever. Taking a few steps up before mumbling, “Let’s get you inside. It’s too cold for this.” 

She walks me through to the living room, where her laptop is still open on the coffee table. Crawling back into her spot, she pats the cushion next to her for me. 

“I’m sorry. I just have a few more things I wanted to try and finish,” she tells me, sounding guilty for working. “It shouldn’t take that long.” 

“You watch me work almost daily,” I laugh out. “Do what you need to; I’m happy to just keep you company.” 

She spends a few minutes just clicking on different things and then copying and pasting things into emails before I finally break the silence between us. 

“Okay, it is a little weird to watch you work like this,” I whisper as I watch her speedily reply to an email. My arm stretched behind her on the couch; I couldn’t stop myself from fiddling with some of her hair. Though it’s odd to see her so focused on her work, I could absolutely just sit here in comfortable silence with her. 

Her soft laugh as she looked over at me, “It's a little less exciting than your job.” 

“I can make it more exciting,” I tell her. It benefits me, too. Her eyebrow raises while she looks at me. 

“How are you doing that?” 

I can’t fight the smirk, “How many more emails do you have?” 

She scrolls through quickly and looks back over at me, “Only three.” 

I reach over, pulling her face to me. I pressed my lips into her bottom one, pulling it back slightly before going back in for another kiss. 

“I’ll give you another one once you’re done with another email,” I whisper against her lips, feeling her smile. 

I watch her frantically open another email, her eyes scanning it at a ridiculous pace. I relax into the couch more, watching whatever movie she has on the TV. 

Did I selfishly decide to play this little game with her? Maybe. But also, she seemed disappointed that she had to work, so at least if I do this maybe she won’t feel like I’m upset with her. 

It only takes a few minutes before her little voice chimes, “Done!” She turns to face me, this time her hands reaching out for me. She pulls herself closer, planting herself against me. 

The way she’s always kissing my top lip makes my head spin. Her mouth moved against mine slowly, fighting every urge to deepen the kiss. She still has more to respond to. 

I pull back, kissing the tip of her nose. Her eyes are still shut, and I swear I can’t breathe. The visual of her eyelashes against her cheeks, the little trail of freckles over her nose, those lips. 

“Two more?” 

She nods quickly, and we repeat the process. I watch her, typing at the speed of light until she looks over at me, ready for her reward. Letting the kiss last longer since she only has one email left. 

Once she starts writing the last email, I lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She has to feel similarly about me, right? She wouldn’t be so okay with this if she didn’t. My thoughts run rampant until I hear the sound of her computer shutting. 

Before I can sit up, she’s crawling over me, lowering herself to kiss me a few times. She giggles in between, making my heart rattle against my chest. 

“You have all my attention now,” she murmurs against me. “Actually, let me grab you a drink.” Climbing off of me, she disappears into the kitchen. 

I look over to see a book on the coffee table with a bookmark hanging out of it. Reaching over and grabbing it, I look at the back cover. 

Friends with benefits is written right into the description. My face heats up at the thought of her reading this and realizing that it was an option. I carefully open it to see where she is in the book without moving the bookmark. My eyes go wide when I skim through a paragraph. 

‘The headboard slams against the wall, matching the rhythm of his—‘ 

The sound of her fridge shutting startled me; I closed the book and slid it back onto the table. Oh my god. No wonder she’s a little spitfire in bed if that’s what she’s reading. She was worried about me, but good god— I feel like I’m the one who should be scared. 

“All I really have is water; I hope that’s okay,” her voice gets louder as she comes back. I sit up, watching her set it on a coaster beside her book. I just nod as she plops down next to me. She quickly pulls me closer to her, which gives me a better idea. 

I pat her leg a couple of times, “Lift up for me?” As she does, I slide my hands underneath her, holding her up as I move into her spot, bringing her back down onto my lap; she curls herself into me right away. Smiling against me and pressing little kisses into the side of my neck. 

“You’re so warm,” she mumbles. Nerves will do that. 

I grab the throw blanket next to me, pulling it over us, “There you go. Trap all the heat in there for you.” 

“You’re so nice.”

“So I’ve heard,” I giggle, raising an eyebrow at her. 

She pushes my chest lightly, “You can’t use that against me!” 

“I’m just stating what I was told,” I laugh out. 

She tries to pout but is failing miserably when she says, “I didn’t know what else to say! Plus, you are way too sweet to me.” 

What are the other reasons, then? If that was just the one she wanted to admit.

“Well,” I start. “Are there other things you would’ve said?” 

Her face turned a little pink at the question, pulling her bottom lip in slightly with her teeth. “Maybe,” she lets out. 

“Anything you want to tell me?” 

“It could be partly because I think you’re sooo..” her voice trails off. “Handsome.” Her giggle after tells me that isn’t the word she wanted to use. 

“Oh, is that right?” 

“God, yes,” she breathes out. “Everything about you— your outfits, your hair, your hands.. you’re soo.. mmm.” 

My head falls back onto the couch as I laugh at her, can’t say I’ve had someone spiral like that before over me. Lingering on the fact she mentioned my hands, I can’t help myself, “So.. my hands really do it for you, huh?” 

Her face is bright red at this point. “I mean, I just-“

Gently, I grab her chin, making her face towards me, and press a kiss against her pouty lips. “I think it’s cute.” 

“Good, because I’ve been staring at them since we met.” 

That must be why her eyes light up when I wear rings. 

“Anything else you wanna share? Or was that tortuous enough?” I ask. 

“Mmmmm,” she hums. “I can’t give away all my secrets at once.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

We lay there watching whatever Hallmark Christmas movie is on, slowly sinking into the couch. I can feel her drifting off, her breathing slower as she does, but flinching and waking herself up. 

“Do you want to go to bed, hun?” I whisper, not to scare her more. 

She just nods, moving the blanket off of her and getting up. She looks back at me, reaching her hands out towards me. 

“Will you stay?” her tired voice melts my heart. 

I kiss the back of her hands before looking up at her, “Of course I will.” 

She pulls me along to her room, flipping the lights off as we pass the switches. Watching her slide her leggings off, crawling into bed in just her sweatshirt and thong. Jesus Christ. 

I text Josh to let him know that I won’t be home before setting my phone on her dresser and starting to undo my belt when I feel that I have an audience. I glance through my eyebrows as she’s watching me from the bed. 

“Take it off, baby,” she quietly cheers, letting out a small ‘woooo!’ I try to fight the smile but can’t when she’s acting like that. I slide my pants down, folding them and setting them with my phone, but as I’m facing away from her, she pipes up again, “There it is.”

I whip my head around to her, wiggling her eyebrows at me. Her giggle rings through the room when I slide into the bed with her. 

“You are a monster when you’re tired, huh?” 

She scoots herself close to me, her hands sliding up my chest, her eyes hardly open as she looks at me, “I’m sorry, you’re hot, okay?” 

I’ve never had someone compliment me as much as she does. 

I let out a quiet ‘mmm,’ pulling her into me. Every night, I fall asleep with her, which only makes my feelings for her worse. It’s hard not to fall for her when she attaches herself to me, kissing every inch of skin she can get to. I’ve never felt this kind of love before if that’s even what this is.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The feeling of her turning over wakes me up, but I’m certainly not upset by it. My hand sneaks around her waist, pulling her against me, sliding my leg between hers and letting my hand slide down her leg and bring it back up to her hip. 

“Mmm, hi baby,” she mumbles, turning her head to try and look at me. 

I lean forward, kissing her cheek and letting out a small ‘hi honey’ before stretching to give her a small kiss. Her hand reaches up, holding the side of my face, letting her thumb rub against me gently. She presses her ass into me a little more, wiggling slightly. 

I run my hand up her stomach, sneaking it underneath her sweatshirt and lightly running my thumb over her piercing, grazing her nipple slowly. It’ll always be hot that she has them pierced. Moving my hand, cupping her breast, and letting my thumb repeat the process until she lets out a quiet ‘mmm.’

Her hand moves from my face, and she snakes it behind her to slide down my stomach and into my boxers. She wraps her hand around me, slowly stroking as I’m lazily pressing kisses into her neck, just enjoying the feeling. 

I move my hand to her hip, letting my hand trail over the round of her ass. Sliding the fabric to the side, my middle and ring fingers slip into her, matching the speed of her hand. Her face turns towards me again, so I push myself onto my elbow to hover over her a bit. Our lips moved against each other slowly, feeling her breath, listening to the mix of how wet she was and the quiet whimpers she was letting out into my mouth. 

I feel her pushing on the waistband of my boxers, and I carefully lift myself so she can push them down. Her fingers tapped my wrist and then pulled my hand away from her gently before she brought her hand back to my cock, lining me up with her. I move my hips forward a little, pushing into her. She lets out an ‘Oh’  as my hips make contact with her ass, and I just sit there for a second, enjoying the warmth, feeling so close to her. 

She starts grinding herself against me, still at a crawling pace; nothing about this sex has been rushed. Her hand found the back of my neck, pulling me back in, leaving kiss after kiss on each other, our tongues dancing between us, anything to feel as close as possible while my hips lazily thrust into her. 

I lift her leg, draping it over my hips as I slide my hand down between her legs. Letting my hand just hold over her for a moment before lightly adding pressure to her clit. My hand tiredly rubbed against her, not wanting to rush anything. The way she moans into my mouth would make my knees weak. 

“Baaaby,”  she moans against me. “You’re so good.” 

My heart pounds as she tells me, and I can’t contain the quiet moan that falls out at her praise. 

“My sweet boy,” she says, moving hair out of my face for me. She mumbles, “You’re so beautiful.”  

My breath catches as she says it, never having anticipated having someone call me that. Someone who looks like her, no less. I stare into her eyes for a second, even if it feels like hours, until it finally slips out, “Oh, honey.”  Her lips pressed into mine, her tired smile making my heart throb. I love you, is all that I want to tell her. Endlessly, over and over, until I’m blue in the face. 

Our hips start to move a little quicker against each other, so I let my hand move faster against her clit, pulling a string of moans out of her. Her back arches as I thrust into her, watching her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. I press my arm against her, sliding myself underneath her more so she’s lying on top of me, her head landing perfectly on my shoulder. 

I turn, letting my lips graze the shell of her ear, “Does that feel good, hun?”

She just nods in response as my hips are thrusting up into her. 

“Mm mm, use your words,” I hum out. 

“Yes, baby.”

The pet name made me smile against her. I could feel the way my voice was affecting her, which made me want to keep going. 

“We’re all alone, Char,” I start. “You can let it all out.” She immediately groans, her hips shifting, meeting my thrusts. “Do you need more?” 

She whimpers, “Please.” 

“Sit up for me,” I tell her, helping her get there with my free hand. I nudge her arm before telling her, “Touch yourself.” Her hand slides down, taking the place of where mine had been. I grip her hips before thrusting up into her, listening to the moans that are falling out of her. 

“Oh my god, babe,” she lets out. “I’m so close, Jake, please.” Her head falls back as she moans my name, making my hips move faster into her. The sweet sounds of her moans as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm only encourage me to try harder. 

“Come on, honey. Let me have it,” I tell her, lowering my voice. I can feel her tense up before she lets out any sounds. Her shoulders go forward as her petite frame shakes on top of me; my name litters the air as she rides out her orgasm. 

She climbs off of me, getting comfortable next to me again, leaning up, pressing a slow kiss against my lips. She curls herself up, laying her head against my hip and wrapping her hand around me again. Feeling her head shift, her lips wrap around the tip of my cock, letting her tongue swirl around me for a second. She moves a little further down, still stroking me with one hand and barely bobbing her head, but god, everything she’s doing feels incredible. 

My hand rests on her ass, lightly grabbing it when she moves her head more. Her hand starts moving a bit quicker, and I can feel it building up. She slides more of me into her mouth, letting her lips drag up the length of me. 

“Oh god.” fell out of me; my hand gripped her tighter, which made her moan around my cock. The vibration from it made my head spin, and my whole body started to feel warm. “Char, don’t stop.”

She takes me fully into her mouth, bobbing her head a few times before I was gripping onto anything I could. Her lips slowly made their way up, and then pressed a small kiss against my stomach before looking up at me with a smile. 

She slips back into bed after cleaning herself up and curls back up into me. 

“3 a.m. sex was worth it,” she giggles. 

Brushing loose hairs out of her face, I look at her, “Well, you started it, so I would hope.” 

“Hey! You were into it,” she whisper-yells at me. 

I choke back a laugh before saying, “A beautiful girl basically asking me to rail her? Yeah, like I'm gonna turn that down.”

“JACOB!” 

I can’t fight the laugh when I ask, “What?” 

“You started off so cute, and then Jesus Christ,” she laughs. “Also- I hardly think that counts as getting railed.” 

She giggles against my lips, pressing a few kisses into me. “I rode your ass, if anything,” she taunts me quietly. 

“Hey now, I was still doing things,” I tried to defend myself. 

“Yes, you were, and you did a good job, baby.” 

A smug little smile grows on my face, mumbling, “Thank you.”

“You’re allowed to be a pillow princess sometimes,” she whispers. 

I bark out a laugh, “Oh my god. I know you like being in charge anyway; don’t act like you're mad about it.” 

“It is cute when you beg me,” her eyebrows pop up a few times. 

I let out a sigh, “Annnnnd, we’re done. Okay, good night!” I pull the blanket over her, blocking her face from seeing me. Thank god it’s dark because I can feel how red my face probably is. 

“BABE,” she laughs out, pulling the blanket away from her face. “Ohhhh, is someone embarrassed?” teasing me once she gets a good look at me. 

My eyebrows pull together as I shake my head, “Absolutely not.” 

“Good, because I think it’s sexy that you’re comfortable with that stuff.” 

Oh? I didn’t know that was something that would help, but I’ll take that win. 

“I’m glad you think so,” I tell her. 

She just nods, “Mhm. I feel like most men are too shy or uncomfortable to let their guard down on things. It’s nice that you don’t seem to mind.”

“Helps that you’re hot when you’re bossing me around so,” I tease. She pushes my chest as she laughs at me. 

We lay there for a while longer, just talking about whatever came to her mind, even if I was fighting sleep the entire time. I’d listen to her talk forever if she’d let me.  Eventually, she drifted off to sleep, tucking her face into me as she did. I could feel her breath get slower against my skin. I kiss the top of her head before resting my cheek against her. 

God, I love you.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Twenty

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⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Jake’s point of view;

I waited far too long. 

I had every intention of telling her—the plan was already in place. 

All I needed was to wait for the perfect moment to ask her to come with me. I knew she wouldn’t say yes right away, so I had to take the time to craft the right words, to convey the way her very essence softened my hardened heart. 

Goddammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of what has transpired with her over the last few months was meant to happen. 

But fate would have it otherwise. And I knew mine was sealed when she chose the seat next to mine on the first day of class. I thought I’d never have to see her bewitching face again after I so callously bumped into her in the hallway. But when that very same, beautiful stranger walked in late through the doors of Movack’s lecture hall, I knew I had to take every measure possible to fend off any infatuations that I felt could arise. 

But, as though it were predestined, we were paired on a project she was just as passionate about — if not more — than I was. 

I suppose I thought the film would be the best way to keep my distance from her while also keeping true to our commitments to the project. I surmised the addition of my family would keep us from having to be alone, having any real conversations to get to know one another. 

I didn’t want to get to know her. Not because of her, because of me. I gathered immediately that she was far too wonderful for the likes of me, far too easy to fall for. Her beauty and complexity, the most exquisite and intrusive storm to my hardened heart. 

She truly was too good for me…still is; utter perfection encompassed in the ethos of her femininity. 

That fact was all but confirmed on that first day of class. When she checked my ego over a question I should’ve known the answer to, I knew I was utterly fucked. Intelligent, full of the wit necessary to challenge me. I was a fucking dick to her from the outset. But I had to keep my own feelings in balance. 

Jesus — who the fuck am I kidding? 

I didn’t ask her to help with the film to keep her away — I wanted her to play opposite me. I wanted her to play my fucking wife. I wanted the chance to act on the feelings that were already amassed, without the risk of her thinking they were anything more than for the sake of the film.

But Josh fucked it all up for me. The script wasn’t what we agreed on, no matter how much he’s fought me on that fact. His idea to shift the focus on infidelity, specifically her infidelity with fucking Lancelot was unadulterated bullshit. And when I had to watch her share so many scenes with Sam, scenes that should’ve been with me, the fire it ignited under my crawling skin told me that my attempts at keeping my composure about her were failing. Miserably failing. 

Stacy was my escape. She had wanted me for years, and I knew she would be the perfect distraction from my growing feelings for Y/n — and from the agony of watching my brother touch her in ways I could only dream of.

But, fate wouldn’t hear of it. It didn’t fucking work. Stacy doesn’t hold a candle to Y/n; she’s nothing more than a flicker next to Y/n’s radiance. Wasting my energy with someone as dull-witted and mindless as Stacy only made me yearn for Y/n all the more. 

Y/n’s mystique, her grace, the very aura she strides with…she’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever set my eyes upon. It took only a few weeks to memorize every minute detail of her face. Her sweet nose that crinkles when she laughs, her glittering eyes that hold the weight of a thousand beautiful lifetimes, her eyelashes that are as dark and full as a ravens wings, her crooked smile, succulent lips…she’s more elegant than any painting the most adept artist could ever render. As though her outward beauty wasn’t enough to lure me in, her endearing accent, the one that instantly told me she was miles away from her birthplace, charmed me even further. 

I hadn’t found a single reason to stay here, a reason that made London feel like a poor decision until she infiltrated my existence, when her earthy, vanilla aroma inundated me with lust and desire. 

And though she tried to hide it, I could tell she was looking at me with the very same eyes I saw her through. 

The only thing I could do at that point was push her away, and keep pushing her until she despised her every thought of me. I couldn’t risk what I was afraid it could turn into. 

It felt like knives tore through the inside of my throat when I said some of the most revolting words I could think of to her in class. I felt like the biggest piece of shit when her incredible eyes became glassed over with tears, when her round, rose lips downturned at what I had said…and I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word of it. She didn’t deserve to hear such horrid things. 

I fucking hurt her. And that was what my thoughtless self wanted. 

I wanted it so I wouldn’t get attached, so she wouldn’t get attached. I’ve needed to get out of this fucking city — this goddamn country — since nearly every person I’ve ever loved died in the places I’ve called home. Other than my brothers, there’s been nothing to keep me here after my time at the U of M is up. And I swore there’d be no way in fucking hell I’d let some girl change that. 

But what my imprudent ass couldn’t accept was that Y/n has never been just some girl. I’ve always known it, and I’ve been utterly terrified by it since I let myself watch her — observe her. All it took was one class period for the horror to sink in that she is different from any other woman I’ve ever beheld. She even surmounts every woman in fucking literature. 

She’s magic.

And she’s broken me. She’s torn down every wall I’ve built since the death of my parents, then proceeded to destroy the ones that came up after I lost my grandparents. No one that isn’t my own twin brother has been able to see me the way she does. 

I mean, Christ, I played guitar for her. Only her. I practically gave her my vulnerability, placed it in the palm of her open hand and closed her delicate fingers over it. I’ve shown her parts of myself, piece by tiny fucking piece, that a mere handful of people have borne witness to. 

I assumed she’d be like every other girl I’d known, but the moment I held her for the first time, I realized just how profoundly wrong I was. From the first touch, the first taste, the first time I fucked her... 

I can’t explain what she does to me, or how she does it. But she brings forth an animalistic side of myself, engulfed with pure desire for everything that she is. 

I knew she was beautiful from the moment I laid my eyes on her, but when I discovered what she was hiding beneath her oversized attire, I felt longing anew. It was a cruel irony for Josh to make my room her dressing quarters. If I knew my brother at all — which I do, better than anyone — the little shit did that on purpose. 

He knew of the risks. I knew them — what might happen if I were to open my bedroom door. And it did happen — the day she was trying on her costumes, and though I knew what I’d possibly be walking in on… I wasn’t the least bit prepared for the sight my eyes would behold. 

As if Josh hadn’t fucked me over enough with the entire ordeal, Malachi added to my misery by choosing costumes for her that only served to enhance her allure that already held me captive. 

That black lace number she was in when I opened my door left my knees weak — my face, numb. I could see every outline of her form, every beautiful part of herself that she’d hidden in my short time of knowing her. The buds of her perfectly shaped breasts were peeking through the embroidered netting, the curve of her exquisite ass was just visible beyond the exaggerated slit of the gown. And her skin, glowing in the dim light, freckled and pristine. 

I stood completely still — in awe of her. I wanted to fall to her feet at that very moment, and I suppose I would’ve if it wasn’t for Natalia. I knew it was wrong to stare at her, but no living mortal would’ve been able to avert their eyes from such an ethereal vision. 

How fitting that she wore that very gown when I at last got to feel her, glide my tongue over every goddamn inch of her sweet skin, mark her so my brother knew who she really wanted…

I’ll surely never forget the way she melted under my touch that night, the way her skin became littered with goosebumps in the wake of my fingers. And when I discovered her little secret, the sexy scarlet colored ink beneath her breast, it left me stunned at first. Yet somehow, it didn't entirely surprise me. It suits her enchantment, her mystery. And it’s enormously tantalizing. 

I simply became intoxicated by her. I needed more, and my futile attempts at withholding my true desires, of delving headfirst into something I knew I’d never be capable of coming back from, would inevitably fail. 

Fuck. She made it so difficult. And it didn’t help when I realized how badly she needed it as well. How could I continue to deny her any further when I myself could no longer resist what we both wanted? 

I chose to tread slowly, to take the time to learn her body and the ways in which she longs to be pleasured. I knew she was losing patience with me, but I had to wait until the perfect occasion. 

I nearly gave in the night she wrapped her gorgeous, velvet mouth around my cock as I drove. I discovered the limitless desires she had been harboring, giving me all she had, keeping her promise of taking care of herself to the thought of me. 

The birthday party felt like the opportune time to at last allow ourselves a true taste of one another, but when I discovered her little lie about the tattoo, my adoration for her burst out of my body like ten foot waves slamming against the oceanside. 

I was angry. But more than that, more than anything, I just wanted her. And I didn’t want to give her a single reason more that she should find herself choosing the affections of Sam over me. 

Fucking her for the first time… nothing in the world could come remotely close to the feeling. And when she’d told me she wished I’d do it — wished I’d fuck her — my heart had catapulted to a place it had never ventured before. Knowing she wanted it so badly… there had been no stopping that shit.

The feeling of her body… No other woman could ever compare — will ever compare. No matter where I venture in the world, there will never be another like her. She's the everlasting dream. My dream. 

Every curve of her body — each time her gorgeous cunt would clench around my dick, her falling apart so gloriously at my touch… I found myself transcending space and time as I knew it.

That night was the one of the most glorious experiences I’ve yet to share with another living being, second only to last night. 

And when I had her in the library…

Jesus Christ. I just need her. In every way that I possibly can. 

And I hate how much I fucking need her. This is a new realm for me. I’ve always been my own unit, seeking the company of others only when it felt necessary. I’ve never known someone who could turn my lonely world upside down and inside out in the ways she has. 

But it wasn’t until Natalia confirmed my fears that Y/n hadn’t been taking proper care of herself that I truly realized the possible breadth of my care for her. Something wholly new to me.

I felt the longing threads of my heart rip to tattered shreds. How could a woman of her magnitudinous beauty be so blind to it? How could she ever doubt the effect she has on unsuspecting souls by simply gracing a room with her charm? It shattered me inexplicably when I learned of the way she views herself. And that—that  was when I truly realized the depths of my affections for her. 

God, the depths… deeper than the vast expanse of the ocean. 

I then sought out ways in which to help her, and the one thing I was certain would bring her peace was having her lend me a hand in preparing a home cooked meal. I had to suppress the rising flood of tears when I watched her eat it, seeming to have no more doubts in her mind as she did so. I saw the very same thing at The Whitney; Not a single burden behind her eyes as she nurtured her beautiful body. 

God. She’s evoked feelings from me that I never thought could be mine to feel.

But I just can’t stay here. I can’t bear it any longer, and she has to understand that. It’s what she did herself when she chose to move here, to say a final farewell to the town that bore her own pain. 

It isn’t her damn job to have to carry my pain, though. By every measure, I’m a failure. In the truest sense of the word. 

I fell for her when I swore to myself I wouldn’t allow for it. I’ve hurt her repeatedly with my pure bullshit. The worthless tries at denying my heart.

And I’ve hurt her yet again by dragging my feet, letting her find out in the most careless of ways by leaving the evidence in her fucking book. And in turn, I’ve hurt my own goddamn self. 

God knows how hard I tried to talk to her this morning, but she had already decided to hell with me. I can’t reproach her for it. I just wish she’d listen to me, I need her to hear me. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be accepted to Oxford. Fuck — her mind, so wondrous and brilliant. I want her there with me. I’ve suddenly found myself unable to take this trek across the sea without her. But I fear my time to present that to her is nearly up. 

And it’s all my fault. Every bit of it. 

But this morning…she chose to twist the metaphoric dagger in my already bleeding chest.

She went to Sam. Immediately chose him, as though no second thought was needed. As soon as I’d betrayed her trust, she’d gone to Sam. She could’ve at least asked Josh to take her home, though her and I both knew that Sam was the more obvious choice. The choice she knew would hurt me just as much as I had hurt her. 

But what she doesn’t know is how much I’m already fucking hurting. By my own hand, no less. I never intended for this, and yet, here I am, feeling things I’ve yet to allow myself to feel over a woman, a woman that walked into my life only months ago. 

And now, thanks to me, she’s held in the arms of my younger brother, shedding her tears into his chest right outside of my bedroom window. 

Is she wearing his fucking slippers? Jesus Christ. 

I could wring his goddamn neck for this. It’s not his fucking place. His bed wasn’t where she laid last night. His body wasn’t the one taking care of hers. 

Though, I suppose I can’t fault him — I wouldn’t be able to gather the strength to turn her away, either. Not ever again, if the truth should be told. 

I just…I’ve wanted so much more with her than this. So much more. But I must now accept the chance that I’ve fucked it all up. Perhaps I fucked it up from the very start; The fact that she ever wanted anything to do with me after the way I treated her is a remarkable wonder. 

My nerves are engulfed in flames as I have to witness her getting into Sam’s car now. Him, shutting the door behind her, racing around to the driver's side so she’s not alone for too long, wiping the last of her tears with the cuff of her sleeve. 

Tears that I fucking caused.

I’ve been through immense pain in my life, the kind of pain that feels like shards of glass slicing at my skin at the reminder. But this kind of pain, watching him drive her away because she couldn’t bear the thought of me doing it, it’s brand new to me.

I’m crossing over into untouched realms of misery, of torment. 

I can’t let things with her end in this way. I won’t stand for it. As much as I wasn’t prepared for this to begin with her in the way it did, I’m not equipped to accept it ending like this. 

I cannot leave for London knowing I was never given the chance to properly fight for her.  

But if she won’t listen to me, I fear the choice will no longer be mine to make.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

a/n: do we think he'll be able to talk her into going with him? or, do we think she'll to stay for other reasons? & what do we think will happen with Sam? 🫣

the rest of the chapter will be yours very soon. 🤍

as always, i owe a massive thank you to @jakeyt for being my favorite editor, second set of eyes, & the best advice/idea giver. love you so so so much.

Le Morte d’Arthur Masterlist

taglist:

Everyone thinks you're lying when you say you don't hate the younger Kiszka twin, but it can't be a lie. The two of you are certainly not the biggest fans of each other, maybe he hates you, but you've always told yourself that you're a lover, not a hater. No matter how cheesy it is.

Maybe you do hate him and you just don't know it, then again, you'd still never admit to it. Because admitting that you hate Jake, well he'd just enjoy that too much.

He already loves watching you get irritated by him, loves knowing that he can get under your skin. But as long as you don't feed into it, as long as you fake a smile or pretend nothing is wrong, you have the upper hand.

You wish you could say that you find enjoyment in that, but honestly, it's a bit exhausting.

You chuckle into your plastic cup, sipping the drink he made for you in the makeshift bar of the kitchen of whoever's house this is. Sam has been, for the most part of this year, trying to clear things up between you and Jake. He doesn't even know what started it, this unofficial grudge between you.

For you, it was when he said something about Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks that rubbed you the wrong way. For him, it was when you rolled your eyes at his Stevie Nicks joke and walked away. So basically, since the very first night you met. This turmoil as been persistent since the beginning.

Was it immature? Yes. Do adults act this way? They shouldn't. Will you and Jake ever see eye to eye?... debatable.

"I agree," you shrug, holding your cup between two hands. Sam's eyes peer over at you as you scan the crowded house. He's waiting for you to admit it. A smirk flashes across your features, "but then that would be a lie, wouldn't it?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Would it make it easier if I told you that he already hates you?"

You frown and shake your head, "I know that, I've known that for a while now. It's like, painfully obvious."

Now, you don't hate him (or so you say) but you do know that he hates you. To be hated by someone so arrogant around you, so proud, so douchebag-y, and to just treat it with nonchalance, in your eyes you've already won.

You don't care that Jake hates you, because you simply don't give a shit about him. You're indifferent towards him.

There's something so sweet about that. Like holding a treat right above his head where he can't reach. I don't hate you, I don't care enough to do that.

You tell yourself it's fulfilling.

Who your eyes are searching the party for, you're not entirely sure. But, when they land on Jake, it's as if a question has been answered. So he is here tonight... you make a mental note to avoid him at all costs.

The thing is, if you really hated Jake, wouldn't you want to argue with him? Wouldn't you go out of your way to bicker and snarl at him, to irritate him back? You never found the idea of that satisfying, so you've never quarreled with him. There have been those moments, after a party or an outing or a dinner you were invited to that he of course was at too, when you're in the shower or the looking in the bathroom mirror or fixing yourself a snack alone in your apartment where you'd play out this scenario in your mind. It consists of just you and Jake, sometimes an audience but most of the time not, and in this scenario you tell him off. You yell and point fingers at him and call him all the names you've never really had the courage or desire to call him in real life to his face. When you exit your daydream and back to reality, there's always this hum in your bones, in your chest. You always ignore it and move on.

You watch Jake, hoping the lights are dim enough to disguise where your line of vision lies. He looks around, over his shoulder, then pulls something out of his back pocket and turns, leaving the room. Your chest deflates. You decide the feeling is relief, but there's something else there. Is it disappointment? No, certainly not. Why would you ever be disappointed by Jake leaving?

You turn to look at Sam, but he stands up straight with his arms widened and steps towards someone he knows. You check their face, and it's a stranger you have never met. He introduces you to him, and you politely nod and smile, then you're excluded entirely from the conversation. Words like 'working on' and 'finishing up' are exchanged, clearly this is someone Sam works with.

Sam has countless work buddies, producers and musicians and lyricists. People who went to Berklee and Belmont, who wear funny clothes with funnier names. You stand back, quiet, not listening to anything they have to say because, honestly, it could be a foreign language. A minute goes past, still ignored. Another minute, and now you're bored. So, you leave.

Down the hall, back to the kitchen, you pour yourself a fresh drink, heavy with the tequila. No one seems to judge, no one seems to really pay attention. With a simper your take your concoction and head out the back door, out onto the back deck.

It's a big house, a nice one. Part of you wonders if the owner is one of those fancy friends of the band, but you take a sip of your drink and the thought fades away. Whoever lives here is lucky. The deck is huge, with warm colored string lights hanging overhead, well manicured yard with beautiful landscaping. You head over to the rail and gaze out into the darkness.

The buzz of the party penetrates the walls. Voices of guests are heard, the music playing is muffled. There are a few stragglers outside, a couple over by the steps, a loner with his cigarette, a drunk group of friends giggling out in the grass. You watch them for a minute, smiling at their shenanigans, then take another sip.

"Well well well..."

You turn at the voice, greeted by a wide, genuine Kiszka smile. Josh comes forward and gives you a hug, his cheek pressed against yours and a happy hum coming from his chest. You hug Josh back, the corners of your lips lifting almost instantly. It was instinct to smile whenever your eyes found Josh, impossible to hate him.

It was so odd, how you could love one twin so much over the other. Sometimes, you forget Josh is a twin at all...

"Hi Josh." You murmur, pulling back with rosy cheeks.

"How are you?" He asks and you just shrug. He shrugs back, "Figured I'd ask since you're playing solo out here."

You chuckle and shake your head, looking down at your boots. When you look back up with a gentle sigh, "I don't fit in with your friends."

He steps backward, looking you over. High waisted blue jeans with a flare at the boot, cute belt with a chunky buckle, a cropped muscle tank top because of the summer heat beginning to set in. It's true, you don't fit in, you stick out in the best of ways.

He waves your words off, "Half of them are colleagues, I wouldn't want to lump you in with them anyway, Y/N."

You have to appreciate that, even just a tad.

"What're you buttering me up for?" You hum under your breath turning so you can look back out into the yard.

He comes up beside you, ignoring your question, and instead taking the conversation in a completely different direction, "Sometimes I wonder how you and Sammy are such good friends when I'm right here. Look at us, sharing a cigarette," he pulls out a pack from his pocket, "talking into the night. And where's he?"

"Talking to whoever Scott is." You shrug.

"Oh fuck," he chuckles, putting the stick between his teeth, "guess I'll be staying out here a little longer.. don't wanna run into him. You know, if I'm at a party, why talk work? I wanna forget about work for an hour of my life, ya know?"

Josh Kiszka, you have maybe the best job in the world...

You just nod, watching him with a smile. Josh was your pick me up, Sam is your rock. Josh keeps things light, Sam stays realistic. You watch him as he lights up, taking a drag and exhaling away from you.

"Thought you quit that." You judge him.

He takes another inhale with a shrug, "Yeah. Turns out vaping only makes me wanna smoke more."

You roll your eyes, holding your fingers out to take the cig. He passes it to you with a smile, watching as you take a drag of it yourself and exhale the smoke. Your eyes catch his, and for a split second all you see is Jake. Imagination takes hold, you wonder what it would be like to smoke with him instead, and then you grimace, giving him the cigarette back.

He chuckles at you with a tilted brows, "What? You don't like Spirits?"

"No, no it's not that," you shake your head with a light laugh, taking a swig from your cup, then mumbling, "it's stupid."

"Now you have to tell me." He gives you a dopey grin, and when you shake your head he persists, "What? I love stupid, tell me."

You sigh, holding the cup against your chest. It feels cold, the cup is sweaty and the condensation leaks through your shirt, dampening the material.

"I just pictured myself sharing a cigarette with Jake."

He looks at you with a tight smile, his cheeks pushed up so his eyes squint slightly, and lets out a laugh that just really sounds like a quick 'hm' before turning and facing the yard himself now. You're both quiet for a moment, and you're about to defend yourself, say something like 'well, you wanted to know' but he speaks first.

"That would be quite the pairing." Is all he says before going quiet again, cigarette in his mouth.

You swallow, watching him and acting like the phrase doesn't bother you. It was full of amusement, pleasure, just a little condescending.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looks at you from the side of his eye, "You know what it means."

"You're so fucking annoying."

He laughs, loudly and carefree. A little deep, kind of bubbly. He laughs because you know what he's alluding to.

"You all feed off of my irritation, that's it, isn't it?" You shake your head.

He shrugs, his laughter dying down, "I'm annoying?"

"Yeah," you nod.

He scoffs, "You're annoying."

You stop and stare at him, expecting a joking smile, a sarcastic look, but his face is aimed at the yard, and for the most part reads serious. Taking a breath, you look away again and let the silence take over.

You know the turmoil between you and Jake isn't necessarily enjoyable for everyone else. You're constantly annoyed by him but you can only imagine how irritating it is for the people around you two.

He finishes off the cigarette, mumbling, "All that I said was that you and Jake would be an interesting pair because you guys have never once been seen remotely near one another."

"There's a reason for that." You grumble back.

"I wish there wasn't."

You want to roll your eyes, because when you got invited to this party you weren't expecting anything sappy. At parties you're supposed to be happy, right? Why the hell is Josh, of all people, ruining the mood?

A sigh comes from you, and your words come out before you can even think through them, "You want me to make an effort? Want me to talk to him?"

This makes him look to you, eyebrows raised with surprise. There's a sense of disbelief in his eyes, like he doesn't think you will.

His voice is doubtful and flat, "You'd really be willing to do that?"

You just shrug. Willingly talk to Jake? Never. Willing to to just move on and make your friends happy? Sure.

"I..." you shake your head at yourself, lifting your hand before dropping it as if to bring in your thoughts, "I'm over it. I know it bothers you all so, I just want to stop avoiding him constantly."

Josh's lips turn up, softly smiling at you. Suddenly, he looks hopeful, trusting. God, now you really have to follow through with this.

He nods, "I just hate that I can't be in the same room as both of you. It's hard, my twin hating my friend. Vice versa."

"I don't hate Jake." You huff, defensive immediately.

"Yeah yeah yeah, okay." He chuckles, not even bothering to argue with that. He knows what you always says anyway.

We're indifferent.

That's a lie in itself though, isn't it? You claim to be indifferent towards Jake, but you certainly cannot speak for him. You know he doesn't feel indifferent towards you, you know that he hates you. Right?

Your eyes slide over to Josh.

"I'll talk to him tonight, okay?"

"I don't know about that." He shakes his head, "He uh..." Josh chuckles with his head down before continuing, "he was sort of advised by Sam to keep his distance from you."

You frown.

"He didn't want any trouble between you two tonight."

You stand silent for a few seconds, thinking. When was the last time you interacted with Jake anyway? You hardly saw him at last weeks get together at Danny's, he didn't so much as look at you when you joined the group for bowling last month... This feeling of guilt and shame begins to swallow you up.

Jake's basically been the bigger person this entire time.

Your hands start shake, body heating up with anger. Why wouldn't Sam just tell you? Why would he want you to admit something you don't believe instead of having you and Jake make amends? Why is he separating you when what really need to happen is a unification?

"Don't go find him tonight, Y/N, please." Josh sighs, turning so his back is leant on the rail.

"No, no I won't, but if I run into him I can't promise there won't be an apology." You say back, keeping your voice even, "Believe it or not, I really don't want unnecessary malice between me and your twin."

"I never said I didn't believe that." He smiles.

Your eyes meet his, quietly asking, "So, you believe me?"

"I believe in you." He nods once.

You swallow, looking downward, then away from him. The unofficial promise of talking to Jake eventually, not necessarily tonight, and ending this "indifference" was intimidating. You haven't spoken to Jake in forever, the last time you talked could have genuinely been when you first met each other. All words exchanged between the two of you since then have been entirely indirect.

How would you start it? Should you just ignore all past interactions, perhaps start new? Or do you apologize? Oh, the very idea makes your blood boil, apologizing to Jake for nothing you did. You've done nothing wrong.

Josh watches anxiety mixed with fire wash over you, "Don't overthink it."

"M'not."

"You are," he chuckles, "I'd just tell him how you feel."

"What if he doesn't care?" You ask, looking to him then away because fuck is that embarrassing. It sounds like you care. Maybe you do...

He shrugs, "Then that's his own damn fault, and you tried. I can tell you mean well, that you really want to do this. Not for Sam, not for me, for you and Jake. It says a lot."

Your face burns and you try give him a casual nod. It's really just a stiff jerk of your head, your entire body feels tight, mouth is dry, neck is hot. You care, of course you care. You always have unknowingly cared, thats just who you are.

He pats your arms and stands up straight, "Alright, now I gotta go inside and find someone to woo for evening."

You chuckle, dismissing your mortification as swiftly as you can, "What, did I bore you?"

He rolls his eyes with a laugh, "Did I woo you?"

You tilt your head side to side, before shaking it. He laughs once more, turning and heading back inside, not without a wink back at you before the door closes behind him. You stand alone on the deck, thinking about what was just discussed, everything he told you, what you had told him.

The scenario of speaking to Jake turns your stomach into knots. You hate that it does. Why is it doing that? You're not supposed to care. You're supposed to be indifferent.

It shouldn't matter what Jake thinks. It shouldn't matter if he cares or not. This is for you. It's for your own sake, talking to him, hopefully putting an end to this childish behavior. But, the fear of him being unwilling or even worse, dismissive towards patching this up worries you still. You think it's just because it would be extremely embarrassing to be the first one to give in, but deep down you really want it to work.

You look down into your now empty plastic cup.

I need another fucking drink.

Back inside you go, to the counter with the alcohol, mixing yourself your newest drink of the night, and finding yourself getting lost in this house. You try to decide who is the owner. Is it the man wearing the wild, neon colored button down? Surely not, this place is so... industrial, farmhouse, slightly bohemian. Your eyes find a girl in harem pants giggling with a guy who has a long beard and thick glasses, perhaps they live here. She keeps twirling her car keys in her left hand though, telling you otherwise.

Either way, your feet lead you to the outskirts of the crowd, beside the walls. You analyze the decor, the books. So much about music and travel. Band biographies, thick guides about the French countryside. You reach the staircase which is surprisingly secluded, making you wonder if the second floor is off limits. Slightly inebriated you seem to care less right now though, and ascend the oak staircase.

You reach the top step, looking back down as a two girls curry past the staircase, then look back in front of you. It's so much quieter up here, darker. You slowly walk down the hall, looking at the patterned rug beneath your boots, wondering if you should take them off up here out of respect for the owner. There's a door halfway open at the end of the hallway, and instead of peeking in every room along the way, you head straight toward the one door that seems to call your name.

Carefully, you open the door further, and step inside. It's dark, only the light from the moon outside lighting the room in cool tones, showing you just enough.

A desk with books and papers and journals scattered around a laptop. Guitars of all shapes and sizes and types litter the far side of the room. You spot a keyboard off in the corner, an easel in the other corner. Curiosity fills you to the brim.

This one little room tells you so much about whoever is hosting, and you're so drawn to it all. Whoever it is, is fascinating. Incredibly skilled, a person of many talents. You step further inside, eyes looking over all the stringed instruments, some, you discover as you approach, are not even guitars. The desire to find out who it is that can play all of them is massive.

You glance over at the easel. It holds a canvas with just a rough outline of a painting yet to come. In the darkness you can just barely make out the outline of a landscape piece, a field with a lonesome tree.

Then, the desk. Part of you wants to get closer, to read the pages, to get a better hint at who could be the one that's in here all the time, but your feet don't move. This is already such an invasion of someone's privacy.

I need to go.

You turn to leave, but someone in the doorway startles you.

"Sorry," he says, holding his hands up to show you he means no harm, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," you breathe out, squinting slightly to see who it is.

You've never seen him before. Short, dark hair, angular face, piercing eyes. Maybe this is the owner...

"I promise, I'm not stalking you," he lets out a nervous chuckle, "I saw you outside, I wanted to talk to you, but you left before I got the chance."

You nod, soft smile on your face as you jokingly ask, "So you followed me?"

He shrugs shamelessly, "Guess I did."

You stop and look at him through the dimness of the room, deciding whether or not you should talk to him or not. After a few seconds, you turn your head, looking for a light switch.

"Is there a light in here we can turn on? I... it's just so dark." You mumble, glancing around the room, spotting a lamp on the desk as well as a chest of drawers nearby the door.

You turn on the desk lamp while he flicks on the other, and the room is washed with an orange glow, allowing you both to get a better look at each other. He wears round glasses that frame his blue eyes, his tan skin sprinkled with freckles, stubble coating his jaw and chin and upper lip. He looks friendly, seems friendly.

He looks you once over slowly, and when his eyes meet yours, a smile spreads across his lips, "You're beautiful."

You hate that you blush, but you do, and wave him off with a chuckle, "Thank you,"

"I'm Kyle, by the way." He says, and you tell him your name in return, to which he smoothly replies with, "Pretty name, fitting."

"You better stop." You shake your head at him, turning your face away as if to hide it, and when you look back he's come closer.

At first, you don't notice that the door has been shut, because you're captivated by his eyes. But, when shuffles to the left, you note that no longer is it open. You don't overthink it much either, thank the alcohol for your easiness this evening, otherwise you'd be pacing the entire estate. That's what this place is, isn't it? Big enough to be one at least. You really should've asked Sam who's place this is.

"Or what?" He hums, the smug smirk on his face reads as playful, the tone in his voice teasing in a flirtatious way.

Is that how he sees it? You didn't necessarily plan on romancing tonight, but who are you to decline? He's good looking, seems like a nice guy, did follow you up here, but you'll take the light stalking as a form of flattery.

Your smile softens as you look back at him, "I'm terrible with compliments, I can never seem to return them."

He chuckles at that, shrugging as he boldly takes your hand in his, "Sounds like you're terrible at giving compliments. Does that mean you're used to receiving them?"

Your lips part as you search for an answer, your eyes moving up to his cap as you think. The front of it reads a production company, beneath the logo in smaller lettering reads WGA. You nearly begin to smirk, discovering why it seems like this guy has a line for everything. He's a writer, half of what he's saying probably is or will be in a sitcom one day. God forbid this very moment gets written into short film.

The pixie dream girl would reply with something witty, wouldn't you like to know perhaps, or can't say this isn't my first one. You don't give away your lines though, instead just offer a shy shrug because honestly, you don't know what to say, and slip your hand from his grasp. You don't know this guy at all aside from the little information his cap is giving you.

"You have to be." He inches closer.

These lines might have worked on people in the past, but not you. There's something about him now, it makes you uneasy. You don't want this you only came up here to get away from everyone for a moment and he followed you. Suddenly you're stiff, suddenly you're backed up to the wall, and suddenly he's leaning in and you can't get the words out.

Get away from me, your mind screams, but your voice stays caught in your throat. You tell yourself to move your arms up, to push him away from you, but you don't react. He comes in closer, pushing your hair off your shoulder and tracing his fingertips down your arm, touching your waist. His mouth finds your neck, kissing you tenderly and making you cringe. You make no effort to reciprocate this touch, standing there with your arms at your side and your eyes wide open.

You sigh and look away as you let him have his moment, to the wall on the far side, with the stringed instruments. Most electric, different makes and models. All beautiful.

A shiny black one with a wide, curved body. A smaller white one with a poplar wood pick guard. An amber colored one with that same curved body, mahogany neck. There's a space in the center, an empty rung, and you wonder where the missing guitar is. Your eyes follow down toward the two stands on the floor, supposedly where the most played instruments go to rest, and you frown softly.

An acoustic, black with some design surrounding the sound hole, besides a burgundy colored electric. Wait... you've definitely seen these before. The beat up electric guitar, with distinct scratches and dents, and that black acoustic with the birds and branches... you rack your brain.

Who has the same guitars as Jake?

Like a light switch being flipped, you suddenly realize who's study this is. Your breath gets caught in your chest and your legs go numb a little. This is Jake's fucking house.

"Oh my gosh..." you whisper to yourself, trying to move but he's got you pinned with his body. "We need to go."

"No we don't," he says back, ignoring your words as he tracing his lips over your skin, "we're good here. No one will find us."

It's not that. You don't care about him or being alone with him it's where you are. You're at Jake's house, in his study, without him knowing.

You're about to open your mouth and say something else, but the door opens, and you watch someone step in. Someone with long, messy hair and a beat up pair of boots to match his old blue jeans.

It's Jake.

He looks puzzled, probably wondering why the lights are on in here, and then spots you cowered against the wall. His brows raise and he immediately takes a step back, unsure of what to do with himself. Confront the two of you in his studio, or exit and pretend like he saw nothing.

His eyes lock with yours, unable to read the panic on your face that you feel in your entire body, so he begins to turn away, and that's when you say it.

"Jake." Your voice is barely there, but he hears it perfectly clear, and stops mid-turn and looks at you once more.

Fuck, you're in trouble. And as much as he dislikes you, he will not leave you here alone with whoever this is.

The man chuckles, breath fanning over your neck as he gives you a clueless reply, "No, Kyle, remember?"

Jake clears his throat, and that's when he finally backs off. Turning, he's surprised to see a third person in the room and frowns, looking back at you, then to Jake again.

"Yeah?" He asks, completely unaware.

Jake scoffs, looking him over and nods his head back to the door, "Get out of my house, man."

You can't see Damian's face, but you're sure it's a mix of offense and shock. He glances back at you once again but your eyes are trained to the floor. You listen to his footsteps as he leaves and his feet pound down the staircase. You don't look up even when he's gone.

Jake watches you closely, quietly asking, "Are you okay?"

With a nod you whisper back, "Yeah."

He doesn't believe you, but he won't push it. He doesn't want to not push it, not necessarily. He wants you to be okay, but, it almost feels like he isn't supposed to ask you stuff like this. It almost feels wrong to help you in general. How fucked up is that?

"Alright," he nods slowly, stepping back again with his hand on the doorknob, "do you need a minute?"

Your jaw sets as you blink, heat spreading up the back of your neck, curling around to the front and up to your face. You're so embarrassed, mortified. You just had to ask Jake for help and he did and you can't even look up at him. You can't even bring yourself to thank him.

Taking a deep breath, finally your eyes look up and you nod softly, "Yeah."

He nods, going to close the door, "Okay, I'll just..." he begins to leave and, still in your antsy state, you hold your hand up for him to stop.

"Wait, I-" you what? You're not sure, but then you say, "don't go."

He pauses and stares at you. Jake has always been impossible to read, and even right now you can't tell what he's thinking. He's shocked though, even though his face says nothing. His heart for some reason won't stop hammering in his chest, maybe it's because he wasn't expecting this. Wasn't expecting to see you in here, let alone with some guy. Wasn't expecting to hear your voice say his name and wasn't expecting to kick a guy out tonight. The only reason he came up here was to get away from everyone. Now he's staying up here with you, of all the people. You.

His hand is still on the door and you're halfway expecting him to leave anyway, but he doesn't. His hand lets go and he steps back in, cross his arms and standing a good few feet away from you. He doesn't ask why, it's like he already knows.

Right now, the last thing you want is to go back to the crowded downstairs. But also, you don't want to be left alone either. So, he stays.

It's silent between you two, and you try to catch your breath and reel in your thoughts but it's so difficult. He's standing right there and saying nothing, not even looking at you. It's like he's waiting for you to let him go, and it would be easier if you did but you just can't.

You shake your head softly, bringing a hand up to your face and swiping some hair out of your eyes, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

He doesn't acknowledge your apology, even though it is unnecessary. You shouldn't have apologized, this wasn't your fault. But instead, like a jerk, he changes the subject.

"You know, I was told not to interact with you tonight." He says, voice deep and slow, like Sam is around the corner and at any moment could see his brother breaking his promise.

You sigh, "I know-"

"So let's just leave it at that." He mutters under his breath and turns to go.

Your eyes look up and brows furrow together, watching him storm towards the door. Taking a step forward you say, "God, why do you hate me so much?"

Expecting him to leave with out another word, he surprises you when he abruptly stops and turns back. Dark eyes, stern face, a scowl of sorts. He's not happy.

"I could ask you the same damn thing."

You roll your eyes, starting, "I don't hate you we're just-"

"Indifferent?" He cuts you off with a mocking voice, and it would be a lie if it didn't hurt a little. It hurts even more when you look up and see his smirking face.

His face softens when he notices yours, that sad, offended look on it. You shake your head, wondering why you even tried, why you even wanted to fix things between you two because clearly it's too far gone. Clearly it's so messy that there is no chance of recovery now and you and Jake will always and forever hate each other.

You hate Jake Kiszka.

That lump in your throat, ache in your chest, turns into a burning, angry heat that covers your entire body and you look up with a frown and frustrated tears. The shine of your eyes makes his heart drop, sorrow and regret filling him up immediately. He opens his mouth to say something as you stalk toward the door, storming past him and out of the room, pounding down the stairs, pushing through people and out onto the front porch. His front porch.

God, this has been his stupid house the entire time and you didn't even know it.

Catching your breath alone outside, you childishly kick a potted plant and let the clay pot shatter before walking down the steps and to the sidewalk. Pacing back and forth, pulling your phone out, debating who to call or text. You try Sam, but after two rings hang up, deciding not to bother him. If anything, right now you shouldn't see him either. Then you try Josh but it goes to voicemail as do most of your calls to him. Stopping in your tracks, you groan and turn towards the street, finally giving in and just booking an Uber home.

It's when you get in the backseat, after the small chatter with the driver, when you stare out the window silently, just with your thoughts, a tear slips out, then another. A steady, silent flow of defeated tears.

Because, yes, you've come to the conclusion that you do hate Jake Kiszka, but also that he hates you back. And for some reason that hurts so much worse than it did when you convinced yourself this was just indifference.

Finally you're home, and you decide to take a shower hoping that stripping your clothes from the night and washing your skin will rid the memories of it. You find yourself replaying him coming in and staying and then breaking your heart.

Breaking your heart? That can't be right. How can someone you hate break your heart?

You get out, dry yourself with a towel, and slip into bed. Going to turn your bedside lamp off, your phone begins to vibrate, and assuming it's either Josh or Sam returning your earlier call, you answer without checking it.

"Hello?"

"Where'd you go?"

It's a voice so much like Josh's, but lacking that bubbly tone, sounding more solemn, apologetic almost. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pull the phone away to reveal the random number you never felt the desire to save in your contacts because you never thought you'd ever be having a phone call with Jake. With your mouth hanging open and your eyes wide, you instantly press the end call button and shut your phone off completely.

Shaking, from the adrenaline, whether caused by anger, sadness, or both, you turn over and hold your pillow tight. You don't bother turning the lamp off, because your eyes refuse to close, your body refuses sleep. You don't rest well that night, just stay awake, thinking of him, and wondering why he called.

Eventually, you do fall asleep, and when you wake it's with a startled gasp and a pounding sound coming from your front door. Looking around disoriented, you rub the sleep from your eyes and try to wake yourself up, kicking your covers off and halfway awake, stumble to the door.

"Hold on!" You grumble out, voice scratchy from sleep. You get to the door and peek around the curtain, exhaling when you see Sam standing there with his arms crossed and worried look on his face. You unlock the door and open it. "I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"Are you kidding me?" He exhales, exasperated. You think he knows about what happened between you and Jake last night, but as he steps in and pulls you into a hug, he says, "You scared the shit out of me! Why didn't you answer your phone?"

You shake your head, pulling away from him, "I turned it off last night."

He huffs again, pulling out his phone to text Josh, letting him know you're okay, "I was looking everywhere for you last night after you tried to call me. Josh tried reaching you, I even asked Jake if he knew where you were but he said he didn't see you at all last night."

Oh. So Jake didn't tell anyone.

It relieves you and disappoints you simultaneously.

You yawn and shrug trying to ignore the sting that comes with knowing Jake didn't try to help them find you. Like he doesn't care. He probably doesn't care, but you have to care a little if you hate someone, right?

"I'm sorry, Sam."

"I was so worried." He stresses, "You're lucky I didn't come here last night."

Jake calmed Sam down enough to convince him to sleep last night and check on you in the morning. As soon as he woke up he headed straight over here, which explains his messy hair and wrinkled t-shirt.

"Did you even brush your teeth this morning?" You laugh lightly, closing the door and leading the way towards your kitchen.

He follows, "Can I just have some coffee please? You kinda owe me right now. I could hardly even slept last night."

That makes two of us.

The coffee is brewed strong. Sam is generous with the cream and sugar. You keep it light. You need the wake up.

Sam tries his best to get to spend the day with you, but you won't allow it, telling him to go out and do something more productive. All you really want to do is crawl under the covers and sulk on your Saturday.

You hate that you're so upset over this. You wish you could just say 'so what?' and move on. So what he saved you from that guy last night? So what he stayed with you afterward? So what he called you and asked where you were? So what he did all of that and yet he hates you? So what?

You find your phone where you left it last night, and temptation wins you over. You press the power button, waiting for the screen to come to life, and when it does, you check the notifications. There are multiple missed calls from Sam as well as texts. A few texts from Josh asking the same thing Sam was. Then, there's that same number from last night. A single text.

Call me back. We should talk.

You stare at it, debating whether or not this is a good idea. You tried last night, and it didn't work. What's the point of giving it another shot? It's hard to convince yourself there is no point in this, because there is. To repair a bridge that burnt down too early that connected you to Jake. You need to rebuild it before any more damage is done.

You're so scared though. Last night it was different because you had that liquid courage flowing through your veins. Now, completely sober with the affects and memory from last night, you're so hesitant to reach out. Without a tipsy pep talk and shared cigarette from Josh, you're unable to confront his twin.

So you turn your phone off and set it out of reach, grabbing one of your favorite books instead and burying your nose in it. Hours pass, morning turns to afternoon, and then evening comes. You've spent the entire day in bed, absorbed in between the pages of your book, unaware of anything else. But, it's like as soon as you close the book and set it aside, reality sets in.

With a heavy sigh you get up and get dressed at 5 pm, figuring better late than never. Spotting the clothes from last night in a pile on the bathroom floor, you wear your favorite midi dress rather than anything similar to last nights outfit. You want to get as far away from last night as possible. It feels like no matter how much time goes by, you're still there in his house.

Deciding it'll do you some good to get out of the house, you grab your keys and bag and head to your favorite restaurant for some take out. You call in your order on the way, and pay when you get there, and wait nearby for your food to be ready.

You stand there on your phone, scrolling mindlessly, listening for your name to be called out.

"Jake?" Someone from behind the counter calls out.

Then name makes you look up slyly, because how perfect would it be for him to here at the same time you are? It's crazy how coincidental that would be. Because he can't be here. Right?

Your breath catches softly, watching as none other than Jake himself walk up and take the small paper bag from them. He smiles softly and thanks them, placing a tip in their jar and turning away. You don't mean to stare, and he can feel your eyes on him, so as he moves he catches you, and it's too late. You try to look away, thinking he maybe won't recognize you if you pretend you never saw him. But of course he recognizes you, how can he not? Your face is practically engrained in his mind.

To make matters worse, your name is called for your order. But you don't move, you can't. Jake waits for you to walk up, a smile of amusement spreading on his lips. He isn't moving until you do.

"Excuse me? Miss?" The girl behind the counter looks at you expectantly, holding your bag out for you to take.

"M'sorry," you mumble, quickly walking up to her and taking your food and turning back to leave.

Your wishes to avoid Jake seem to have been answered because when you move around, expecting to see him there still, he's gone. He must have left, and you let out a sigh of relief, calmly exiting the restaurant. You thank the stranger who holds the door for you and pull your keys out for your car and start toward the parking lot.

"Hey," a voice from behind stops you.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Your shoulders drop and your close your eyes, taking a breath before giving up and just turning around. He stands there, faded blue jeans and a black button down, hardly buttoned in true Jake Kiszka fashion. You always found it douchey, why is it oddly attractive now though?

"What do you want?" You exhale, looking away from him.

He licks his lips and steps forward, "I want to talk to you."

Flicking your eyes back to him, you spot the genuineness on his face, how willing he is right now. You press your lips together in a thin line, thinking it over. Your mind is telling you two things at once: run away immediately and stay and listen. You can't tell which is the best decision.

While you stand there silently, he lifts his bag and raises a brow, "Maybe we can talk over dinner? Do you have anywhere you need to be?"

You could lie, you could say you have plans for tonight but you don't. The only plans you had were to go home and mope into your BLT.

How was it so easy for him to get you here? Sat at one of the tables on the patio of the restaurant. You slouch childishly in your chair, refusing to take your food out. Jake digs in freely, totally unfazed by all of this. You're too on edge to eat, too stubborn. God forbid you share a meal with the man you hate.

"You bought food just to not eat it?" He speaks around his sandwich.

Your roll your eyes and cross your legs, "I didn't plan on eating with you."

"Well, don't let it go to waste," he shakes his head, waving his hand to the bag, "eat before it gets cold."

"Don't tell me what to do." You spit out coldly, narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, shaking his head at you with an unamused look, "Whatever."

You sit there silently for another few minutes, watching him eat. He says nothing to you, and you groan in frustration.

"You're making me stay but you won't even talk to me? What do you even want?"

"I'm not making you stay at all," he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, looking out to the parked cars, "you made the decision to stay with me. I said talk over dinner. You're the one who agreed and is unhappy with it."

You frown, standing up abruptly, making the metal chair scrape loudly against the ground and say, "Okay, then I'm leaving."

"Come on," he rolls his eyes at you, as if you're the one being dramatic.

"I'm not gonna waste my time. Bye Jake." You brush him off, walking to your car as he sits there watching you.

He knows he should do something, knows he should get up and chase after you, stop you. But he doesn't. In all honesty, he doesn't know how. He's never chased after a girl, let alone you. He doesn't know how he would even go about it, so it's best he just stays put. That's what he tells himself.

It's when you're halfway home, and your stomach growls, you look over to the passenger seat only to find that your food has been accidentally abandoned with Jake. You whine to yourself in frustration, a pout on your lips the rest of the way home, thinking about your order just sitting on the table, growing cold and soggy.

At home you shuffle to the pantry, prepare a dinner of boxed macaroni and wine, and slouch on your sofa, putting on the first romantic comedy you can find. You had the hugest crush on Cameron from 10 Things I Hate About You when you were younger, but for some reason now when you watch the movie, you just see yourself playing Kat, and Jake, Patrick.

Around 8:30, mid-romance-movie-marathon, your door bell rings. You frown and pause the film, placing your now third glass of wine down and getting up to see who it is. You peek through the blinds, but no one is there. Opening the door, you look out, and whoever was here left just one piece of evidence behind: a small paper bag on your door mat.

You squat, checking the receipt on taped onto the front, reading the same order you had placed earlier only with Jake's name at the top of it. How does he even know where you live? Your stubbornness nearly convinces you to leave it on the step, you can't possibly eat this food he got for you. But your tummy growls again, and the writing at the bottom of the ticket catches your eye.

I'm ready to talk whenever you are.

You scoff as you snatch the bag, bringing it inside with you and crumbling the receipt, devouring your favorite BLT on the couch and resuming your movie. Glancing at your empty wine glass, then your phone, you sigh, grab it, and send him a text message.

You want to talk? Come back tomorrow with wine.

It's crazy how fast he replies, almost instantly. Almost like he was waiting for it.

Whatever you say princess.

You roll your eyes, but this time, a smile is tugging at the right side of your mouth.

"This is seriously the only way to get you to talk?"

He holds up the bottle of rosé, a choice you weren't expecting from him, as he climbs your front porch steps and you hold the door open for him.

You give him a cheeky shrug, "Maybe."

He scoffs as he steps inside and makes his way toward your kitchen, asking over his shoulder, "Was the food not enough?"

You shut the door and follow after him, snatching the bottle from his hands and heading towards the drawer where you keep the corkscrew. Placing it on the counter, you look up as he comes over to face you and places his hands on the countertop, watching you with hard eyes.

You begin to unscrew it, giving a snarky reply, "Do you want me to talk or not?"

He tilts his head as he watches you, replying in a deep voice, "Wanted you to talk yesterday. But you stormed off."

"Wasn't ready for a chat with you, honestly." You huff, pulling out the cork and fetching two wine glasses.

He oddly enjoys the way you move around in here, how comfortable you're acting, how comfortable he feels. Maybe it's because you're both in your house, maybe that's why you aren't so tense. But then why isn't he? Shouldn't he feel out of place? Why doesn't this place seem foreign to him?

"So you're ready now?" He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You pour yourself a glass, sliding the bottle to him, then lifting the glass by the stem and taking a sip, "Now I am."

The two of you end up sitting on your back porch, you felt like the fresh air would make it easier to breathe. The bottle sits on the small table between you two. No stalling occurs tonight.

"So," he says, crossing his legs at the ankle and looking over at you, "Friday night."

"I don't know who that guy was, he followed me up there." You mumble, your voice sounding deep and echoey in the glass as you take a sip.

His eyebrows pull together in a frown, "Followed you?"

You nod as you swallow and close your eyes. He watches you closely, watches the way your throat looks, the way you lick your lips, the way you slowly flutter your eyes open. He ignores that tripping feeling in his stomach as he waits for you to continue.

"I was outside with Josh. He told me he followed me upstairs. I don't know... I think he thought I wanted more but I just wanted to be alone." You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you think it all over again. Your eyes slowly look up to his, and you softly say, "Thanks for helping me. I don't know if I thanked you."

You didn't, but he doesn't say anything about it. Because instead of thanking him that night, you apologized, and looking back on it now, that upsets him. You had nothing to apologize for.

He shakes his head with a shrug, "I couldn't just leave you there. Then what?"

You shrug, "I don't know. Guess you'd prove my point."

"And what's your point?"

You lick your bottom lip then bite it. Your point is that Jake Kiszka is a dick and he hates you, but it seems irrelevant now. Because now he's sitting here with you and you're actually talking to one another and it seems like you both are making an effort here.

You shake your head, "The point now is that my point has been proven wrong."

"But what was your point to begin with?" His mouth lifts at the corner.

You blink at him, taking your time with your response, "That you hate me."

He grins, "And what about you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't hate me?" There's a sense of hopefulness in his voice that both of you detect easily but choose to ignore.

"I said I don't know."

He sits back and stares at you, taking a long sip from his wine glass. You mirror him, but instead look out into the yard, watching birds fly back to their nests, tress sway softly in the wind, the sky turn dusty purple as the night rolls in.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" He chuckles, looking down at his shoes, "I mean, just say what you feel, Y/N."

Naturally, you glare at him, "How do you know what I feel?"

"I don't," he shakes, narrowing his brown eyes at you, setting his glass down and lifting his hands with a shrug, "but you always skip around the questions. It's always 'I don't know' or 'maybe' or..." he licks his lips, grinning as he looks away again and mumbles, "feeling indifferent."

The wine has gotten to your head quicker than his, so it makes sense why you have lost control over your tongue before he has. You sit up to the edge of your seat with a sharp gaze zeroed in on him.

"You know what conclusion I came to on Friday night when I got home?" You hiss.

He watches you like an interested cat, perched in its spot, too lazy to pounce but wanting a show none the less. His voice is low, nearly a whisper, slowly shaking his head as he says, "Tell me."

You take a quick, deep breath in, and says, "I hate you, Jake. And you hate me."

He clasps his hands together and steadies his feet on the porch, looking at you with excitement in his eyes, "So you finally confess it."

"But," you hold up a finger, slowly tilting it until it points at him, "in order to hate something, you have to care about, it just a little."

You're expecting him to frown or sit back defeated or stare at you puzzled, but he doesn't. In fact, his grin transforms into a devilish smile and he comfortable leans back in his seat, looking at you no differently.

"Oh, I already knew that." He twitches an eyebrow upward, brings his hand up to stroke over his upper lip and chin, "I also know something else, but I don't know if you want to hear it tonight."

With blazing cheeks and gritted teeth, you murmur, "What is it?"

He puckers his lips with a smile and looks away, shaking his head, "Nah. I think we should save it for our next session."

"Just," you sigh, sitting back and bring your fingers to your temples, softly saying, "tell me what it is, Jake."

"The opposite of to hate is to care. But the opposite of being indifferent, which is what you have been saying we are this entire time, is to be curious. To be excited." Now he sits up and leans his elbows on his knees, staring at you with lowered eyelids, "So, Y/N, tell me. Do I pique your curiosity? Do I excite you?"

You look appalled, shaking your head and immediately responding, "No."

It's so easy to see through your lie. A lie you've been telling yourself this entire time that now you can finally tell isn't true.

"Not even a little?"

"No, Jake." You're too quick again, but your voice is softer. He's still smirking, and when you look up at him, you say, "Stop."

"Come on," he whispers, adjusting himself in his seat so he's more comfortable, "you have to work with me here."

"I want to work with you in a different way." You sigh, cross your legs and stare downwards, "Believe it or not I don't want this to not work, I want us to be able to tolerate the other."

"Well, believe it or not, I want it to be better than just that." He mumbles back.

He means it. And it would be a lie if he said he wasn't curious about yourself. Who you are, really, and if what his brothers tell him is true. You're more alike than you are different, and if you could just grow up, a friendship will be revealed. He wants that. He wants to befriend you.

"We have to work together, Jake." You say, "This isn't a me adjusting to you or you adjusting to me thing. I won't work with you if you don't work with me."

He nods in agreement, "Okay, yeah."

You nod with him and after a breath, ask, "So, how do we do this?"

"Wait what?" Josh and Sam's jaws drop in sync.

"Don't make this a big deal." Jake sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he tugs his boots on.

Josh shakes his head, cautiously approaching his supposed brother. Who knows, maybe this is a look alike, or someone in a costume. Because what does he mean by this all of the sudden?

"I'm not, I'm just-"

Sam cuts him off, "You're hanging out with her?"

To be fair, it's a valid response. Just last week, literally, you hated each other. And now, here he is getting ready to go see you.

"Yes." He grunts, getting the other boot on and standing up, passing by Sam with a pat to his arm, "What? Are you jealous?"

He's playing it off as best as he can. His uneasiness, nervousness, excitement. He's all three right now, which is kind of weird but he can't deny the exhilaration he feels, going to see you, of all people. There are so many ways tonight can play out, and he has no idea which route you're gonna take.

He tells himself he doesn't care how tonight ends. In reality though, he's leaning toward the one with a happy ending rather than a tragedy.

Sam shakes his head as he watches Jake move to the kitchen, pouring himself a shot, "No... are you nervous?"

He shrugs, taking it back and swallowing it down, "Cut me some slack, I've never hung out with her before like this."

"Like this?" Sam's incredulity grows.

"What else have you been hiding from us, brother?" Josh hums, coming over, taking the tequila and pouring himself his own shot just for fun.

Jake looks at Josh and shrugs again, "We saw each other on Sunday, this is how we planned this."

"You mean, this was both your ideas?" Sam asks.

"Please stop acting so goddamn shocked." Jake rolls his eyes.

Sam raises his hands in defense, "To be fair, you have always said you hated her. So, yeah, I'm gonna be a little shocked."

Josh waves him off, pouring another shot in the glass and bringing it over to Sam, asking Jake as he does so, "Where are you going?"

"This is so lame."

"What happened to working with each other?" You lift a brow at him and approach the front desk.

He said you could choose anything. Literally anything. A movie, restaurant, concert, hiking, snorkeling, skydiving, a fucking couples massage session. And you choose pottery.

Because of course you choose something that neither of you have ever tried. Of course you want to make this slightly uncomfortable for him.

The man at the desk explains to you where to head for the beginners class and the two of you head down the hall together and enter the room. Large tables are spread evenly throughout the room and multiple potters wheels sit in the back. There's a decent sized group here this evening, everyone interacting and chatting before it begins.

You walk in and look around, soon enough being sucked into a conversation with the people around you. Jake ends up talking to a man with rounded glasses and a Pink Floyd t-shirt on. The shorter girl with long brown hair that he came with talks to you.

"Me and my boyfriend came tonight too," she chuckles, then nods over to where Jake and her boyfriend are.

"Oh, he's not..." you glance back at Jake, his hair tied back in a low knot and his sunglasses perched on top of his head.

The man gestures to you, making Jake look back and catch your eyes. He smiles at you. Not a smile out of politeness, or a tight lipped one just for niceties. A genuine, warm smile. It makes your mouth instinctively curl into its own smile, and you wave softly over at him to which he nods at before turning away.

"Sorry, what was that?" She asks, making you look back to her.

You shake your head, laughing it off and continuing, "We're just both excited is all."

When the instructor comes in, the girl says goodbye, and you turn to face where he stands. Whale reappears by your side, which he really didn't have to do, but for some reason it brings you comfort that he did.

"Good evening everyone, so glad you could make it," the instructor begins by introducing himself with a thick Australian accent.

You glance over at Jake who looks down at you and widens his eyes ever so slightly, making the acknowledgment that yes, he hears the pattern too. You look away with a soft smile. In a room full of strangers with Jake Kiszka, you feel like you've known him forever, and that nothing has ever separated you two.

After the quick introduction and directions on the basics, he tells you what tonight's lesson will be.

"A simple bowl. Or a pot. Easy, and I'm sure with a bright group like yours," the instructors eyes linger on you for a second longer than everyone else, "I'm sure you can handle it. Alright, let's get your clay!"

Jake scoffs and leans down to murmur, "Looks like someone has a crush on you."

"Please shut up." You roll your eyes with a smile as you walk over to find an apron and cut your clay.

Jake follows, grabbing the last one from the hook where they are provided, and groaning. You turn to him with confusion as you slip yours over your head.

"What's wrong?"

He looks at you with the apron in his hands still, the front facing him, and a pleading look on his face as he says, "Please switch with me Y/N, please."

You smirk proudly as you tie up your apron and plant your hands on your hips, voice haughty when you say, "Oh, I like you begging Kiszka."

His begging face drops into a serious one, realizing you will not be switching. So, he begrudgingly slips it on and begins trying to tie it in the back. Thankfully enough chatter has filled the room to cover up your burst of laughter when you see the front of the hot pink, frilly apron surely someone's gag gift at one point or another. Behind dried on clay it reads in big bold print "stand back mommy is cooking".

Through tears, you pull your phone out, "Please," it's a gasp through your hiccuping laughter as you tap on the camera app, "don't move. Stand right there."

"Oh my god..." he doesn't even try to fight it, standing there with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Halfway finding the situation funny himself, but also loving the sound of your laugh.

Still in a fit of giggles you move over to the blocks of clay out on the tables and cut your portions. Then together find two potters wheels beside each other and follow the instructors directions.

"Now make sure you clay is centered because if you don't..." he slams his clay on the plate slight off center and tries to mold it, but begins jiggling around, "this happens."

The group chuckles lightly, getting the picture and one by one people begin to center their clay. You smash your clay onto the plate then watch Jake do the same. He gives it an extra smack for good measure which you shake your head and chuckle as you wet your hands in the bucket of water and start spinning the wheel with the pedal.

Jake follows your lead really, looking to you when he's struggling, copying your movements, despite you being a beginner too. He trusts you though, which is why he is constantly checking to make sure his looks like yours.

After a few failed attempts of pulling up your clay with a hollowed center, the instructor spots you and comes over.

"Oh no dearie, like this, slow down your wheel." Jake watches as he leans over you from behind, lightly touching your outer knee for you to let off the pedal slightly. His eyes narrow on their own when he places his hands on either side of yours, "There you go, keep your hands firm. Yes, like that. Good!"

He steps away and Jake watches as he backs off, unsure of what to do with himself. It was almost like he just watched that one scene from Ghost right in front of him real time, but maybe he's over exaggerating. While distracted by what just occurred, his clay caves in on itself and he pulls his hands away.

"Shit." He mutters to himself, shaking his head and wiping his slimy hands on the front of his apron.

The instructor comes around and nudges Jake's shoulder gently, "Ah, you'll get the hang of it mate."

He walks off and Jake's frown deepens as he looks up. Looks like he isn't getting pointers like you were. When he looks back over at you, you're stifling a laugh at his failure of a pot, and when he spots your smiling eyes, it makes his mouth twitch. Then, you stick your tongue out at him and focus back on your work.

He chews the inside of his cheek, watching you zone in and concentrate deeply. Leant over with your sleeves rolled up, short pieces of hair falling out from the bandana you wore tonight and in front of your face. He thinks you look kind of pretty, and as soon as that thought enters his mind he snaps out of it.

"You know," he slows his wheel down, leaning toward you on his stool and murmuring softly with his eyes down, "you should make a flower pot, to replace the one you kicked off my doorstep."

Your heart drops and your eyes widen, the cup you were molding crushing in your hold. You stop your wheel and look at him with red cheeks. You had honestly forgotten about the immature moment you had the night of the party. Letting your anger win you over.

Swallowing thickly with a dry mouth, you stammer, "I- uh, I... how'd you know it was me?"

He chuckles and shrugs, "Lucky guess."

You roll your eyes, scraping the clay off and starting over, "I'll get you a new one, okay?"

"You don't have to." He shakes his head.

"You brought it up, and now I feel bad," you felt bad afterwards too, "so I'm getting you a damn flower pot."

He chuckles again, getting back to his own wheel.

Eventually, after many struggles, you both come to terms that your bowl shaped pottery will just be shitty looking. You both take pictures of each other with your artwork (if you can even really call it that) and a fellow potter volunteers to take a photo for you two. Leaning into one another, you both beam with your pieces. She hands the phone back and you're both still leaned in together, looking at the picture with your heads almost touching.

You both look at each other with soft smiles and slowly back away, moving to place your clay out to dry. While you wash your hands the instructor explains that in two days you can come back to glaze your pieces and that he'll fire them after that, and you and Jake look at each other questioningly.

"Are they even worth keeping?" He asks.

You chuckle, "Yours? No. Mine? Duh. I'm like Picasso."

"Picasso was a painter," he points out with a laugh, taking off the horrid apron he was stuck with.

You just nudge him teasingly with your elbow and go put your own apron away, moving to grab your things. He follows, and as everyone clears out the instructor says goodbye at the door. When you leave you're stopped, and Jake doesn't notice until he is halfway down the hall.

He watches as the instructor speaks to you, smiling and complimenting you. You smile back, but not in the same way. You smile back politely, not the way you smiled at Jake earlier. It puts his panic to ease, sensing that the instructor is flirting and you aren't feeling the same. It's funny how Jake is so relieved when you shake your head, politely declining the chance to go out on a date with an artist. The instructors nods his head, respectfully accepting your decline and letting you go.

Your walk turns into a light jog as you catch up with Jake, walking with him back into the parking lot.

"Why'd you say no?" He quietly asks, walking you to your car.

He's afraid it isn't his place to know why or why not, afraid that maybe he stepped to close, crossed a boundary.

But you just shrug, simply saying back, "Kinda rude to be asked out on a date while you're on one, no?"

His brows raise with surprise as he looks down at you, "So, this was a date then?"

Unlocking your car and stopping when you reach it, you chuckle back, "You know what I mean, Jake."

He doesn't at all though. To him, you are so damn confusing, but it only draws him in more. It only makes his curiosity grow.

When he gets in his car he sits for a second, thinking over the night, finding himself smiling at the moments throughout. He pulls his phone out, looking at the picture you took together, sending it to the group chat he shares with Josh and Sam.

Sam replies wow it looks like you guys actually like each other.

Josh's is a simple cute.

Jake locks his phone and sits back a moment longer before putting his key in the ignition and starting his drive back home.

His choice comes a week later.

Now, you don't know much about Jake. But, there are a few obvious things to your knowledge, such as: Jake plays guitar. Jake is good at playing guitar. He likes to play guitar. He likes to talk about guitars. Oh, and he may or may not still hate you.

You can't believe that might be added to the list of things you don't know about him. Forever you were positive that he hated you. Now, you're not so sure. Why would he take a person he hates here?

"I come out here by myself a lot," he says, walking out onto the field with you.

It was weird seeing him in something other than his usual button down and jeans. It's weird how even still, wearing gym shorts and sneakers, he looks just as much as a rockstar. He had told you to wear something similar, making you wonder if you would be participating in a hike or some other form physical activity. When he revealed the soccer ball in his backseat to you, it all made sense.

There is one other thing you do know about Jake Kiszka (courtesy of his brother): he grew up playing soccer. Turns out he still plays.

"Really?" You ask, finding it a little surprising.

He just shrugs, "It's a fun way to get my energy out. You know, if I'm mad or whatever."

"Just kick the ball around?" You simper.

He tosses it to the grass and plants his foot on top of it, looking at you with a smirk, "Pretty much."

"You enjoy playing with your balls, Jacob?" You tease.

Normally he'd find the jest annoying, or take offense to it. Now, however, he sees the lightheartedness, knows that you don't mean any harm by it.

He ignores it, but you know he heard you from the way he looks away with a short, dry laugh, then says, "So I was thinking some one on one? Your goal down there and mine here?"

You shrug, "Whatever you say captain."

You make some makeshift goals out of sticks and rocks and your claw clip and his sunglasses. Not a full fields distance away from each other, he wants to go easy on you. Agreeing to rock, paper, scissors for who gets the ball first, you end up winning and standing with the ball at your feet.

"Go easy on me." You mumble, toeing at the ball, noting all the scuff marks on it. He really does do this often, meaning he is probably gonna plummet you during this match.

He jogs backward, giving you some space and calling out, "Well, you gotta kick the ball first!"

You roll your eyes, taking a breath and starting, rolling the ball with your feet, heading towards the goal he's protecting. You try your best to find the smartest course of action, deciding to go right and aim as best you can, but of course he steals it from you. Easily too, like it were the simplest thing on the planet.

He takes it down the field with his feet, making you chase after him. Your efforts to steal the ball back are unsuccessful.

Through your panting breaths, you groan, "This would be so easy if I could use my hands."

He laughs heartily, breathing just as heavy as you, "That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? Europeans call it football, you have to use your feet."

You grunt in response, trying to kick it out from under him. He's too damn good though, and even when it does slip from his hold, he brings it back quickly. He laughs softly, watching your attempts, finding your struggle amusing.

Then, he kicks the ball backward so it rolls behind him and spins, taking it around you and scoring instantly. You sigh, leaning forward till your hands rest on your knees, and catch your breath. He runs after the ball, walking back and letting it drop to the ground. His hands come up to form a 'T' for timeout, and then his fingertips touch your shoulders and guide you to stand up straight.

He keeps his hands there as he says through labored breaths, "You gotta block me too. You can't just try your luck at swiping the ball from my feet over and over."

His words make it easy for you to ignore the way his hands feel on you, and you roll your eyes, responding, "Oh, so you're coaching me now? This is practice?"

He removes his hands, which slightly disappoints you, then says, "No, but I know you want to beat me. If you take my advice you'll have a better chance of doing that."

You stare at him for a second, using the back of your arm to push some stray hairs that have begun to stick to your forehead back. He pushes his own loose strands back with his hands, his biceps flexing. You glance at them for a second then look back to the ball.

You tell yourself to focus. Remind yourself how great victory against Jake will taste. However, how nice is it to also talk with him, to just look at him even... He steps away from you, lifting the hem of his shirt upward to wipe the sweat from his face and your breathing stutters.

Concentrate.

You've got the ball now, and decide that maybe you can try to outrun him instead. He proves that incorrect, catching up to you quickly and taking the ball back again. You take his advice, chasing after him, defending your goal as you try to steal the ball back. And it works, it's in your possession, and you kick it back down to his goal, aiming for your shot, and earning a point.

You throw your hands in the air with a celebratory jump, looking back at him with a grin.

There's that feeling again, the same one he felt when he watched you leant over your assigned potters wheel last week. When he realizes how pretty you look right now, he doesn't dismiss it. He invites it. Let's himself look over the glow of your cheeks and gleam of your smile. The way your hair tied back allows him to see all of your jaw and both ears and down your neck. If it were acceptable he would have come over and given you a light, congratulatory hug. But it's not acceptable, is it? It's far too soon, too intimate.

It wouldn't surprise you if he was glaring at you or shaking his head at himself in embarrassment, but he isn't. The smile on his face warms you and he pats your back softly as he passes by to go after the ball. You tuck a hair back behind your ear as you try and catch you breath. Your heart won't stop hammering though, even when you rest. It's still thumping hard against your ribcage.

You watch as he walks back up, passing the ball back and forth between his hands and throws it up in the air. He comes closer, elbowing you softly before setting the back to the ground.

"See what happens when you listen to me?" He grins as he murmurs the words, getting ready for the next round.

You scoff it off and roll your shoulders back, getting ready to play again, "Just kick the ball, Jake."

You both agree that whoever makes it to five points first wins. Right now you're both tied, sweaty, and panting at four. It appears you're both fluent in trash talk too, so whoever loses tonight surely won't ever hear the end of it afterwards.

It's your turn with the ball, and you're determined as ever to beat him. Throughout the hour you've been playing, you've learned his strategies, studied his moves, memorized his approach. Intentional or not, he likes hand to hand combat, lots of pushing and moving against you, and as much as it made you blush in the beginning, you got used to it quickly. His touch isn't alien, in a sense it'd be weird if he distanced himself now. Awkward.

Though his panting, he looks up at you with lower lip dropped, spotting your winning grin as you bite on your tongue with concentration. He tries to steal the ball from your other side as he gruffly speaks, "Don't think you're actually going to win this."

"Oh, I already have." You quip back, turning with the ball still yours, "You tire quickly. Need to work on that."

He lets out a 'psh' and follows you closely, "I have tons of stamina, Y/N, don't be fooled. I've been going easy on you this entire time."

"Yeah?" You breathe back, sweat coating your hairline and down the back of your neck.

He bites his lip, not letting up with a soft, "Uh-huh." He blocks you swiftly when you try to aim for his goal, and luckily you have time to recover, taking it further back and creating some distance between you and him. He follows you, a few feet in front, "This is easy. Do you need it harder?"

The whimper you let out is unmistakable as you ignore his words as best you can and try to outrun him closer to the goal. He chases you, his defense impeccable, but you don't let up. He presses against you and you push back which should surely be foul play but neither of you say anything about it. His skin sticks yours, shirts damp, breaths loud. You try and push him off again but he doesn't budge.

Then you give him a rough shove, and he just barely moves away, giving you a clear shot. You wind back your foot, stepping forward with perfect form, gliding into the kick. But, he's quick to recover, coming back swiftly to block you, but too close, resulting in a trip.

A yelp slips from your lips as you collide into him, causing a hiss to sound from him, and almost in slo-mo, you both fall. He grunts, his back coming in contact with the ground, you landing on top, chest pressed against his. Actually, he broke your fall entirely, and your body is now laying directly on top of his. Slowly, you open your eyes and plant your hands on either side of his head in the grass, looking down with startled eyes. With his brow furrowed, he blinks his eyes and squints up at you with a face of distress.

When you finally breathe again, you whisper out with sincerity, "Are you okay?"

He nods his head stiffly, letting out a quick, pained, "Yep."

"I'm sorry." You breathe out, frozen on top of him still. Your body won't let you move for some reason. It's like you're paralyzed.

He looks up at you, his hands holding your waist, making your breath catch and eyes widen slightly. But, all he does is move you off of him and lay back with a sigh.

"It's okay," he grunts, adjusting himself.

"Do I need to call an ambulance or something?" You ask, anxiety taking over as he continues to just lay there.

"No, no," he laughs softly, relieving your fears, blinking up at you with a smile on his face and those sweet, chestnut eyes, "just knocked the wind out of me. I need a sec."

Your hand instinctively touches his arm as you kneel beside him, rubbing it comfortingly. Maybe he hit his head when he fell, and that's why he sees a pair of angel wings behind your shoulders, a glowing gold halo above your head too. Or maybe he's just wrongly accused you as the devil this entire time, and now, finally now, he realizes that's not you at all. You're an angel.

Slowly, he sits up with you, and you pull your hand away. "Better?"

He nods, licking his lips then smiling, "Yeah."

You nod back, slowly pulling your eyes away and gasping when you spot it. Your ball, right in between the stick and pair of sunglasses, AKA Jake's designated goal. He turns and sees it too, letting out a laugh as you scramble to your feet and hop around in celebration, doing your victory dance.

"Oh yeah!" You whoop and holler, pumping your fists in the air with every jump, the biggest smile he's ever seen painted across your lips. "Eat it, Kiszka!"

His grin widens, leaning back on his palms and stretching his legs out as he watches you twirl with excitement. Tilting his head to the side, he admires you in the warm glow the setting sun casts on you, how you shine in the light. The tips of his fingers and toes feel numb, and he wiggles them both to clear away the sensation, but then his stomach flips as you look down at him, leaning over in your laughter before jogging off to retrieve the ball.

He looks down at the grass, his brow tense, mind racing. The realization hits him before it does you, just exactly how he feels. It should be a mistake, surely, there's no way in hell this is a false alarm. He's been called a hopeless romantic before, falling for a girl prematurely, or thinking that he likes someone when he really doesn't. But this time, it's different.

It's so different, because it's you.

The ball rolling up to his legs pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to spot you approaching with his shades.

"So, loser buys drinks?" You suggest with a playful smirk.

He plays it off cool, pretending that he wasn't lost in a daze about you, getting to his feet and kicking the ball along with him as you both walk back to your cars, "That was never apart of the plan..." but then he realizes that he doesn't actually want to pass up the chance of grabbing a drink with you, so he agrees, "but alright. Let's go. I'm thirsty anyway."

this is how you fall in love - Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler “You are the reason I never think twice, wherever we go, what glitters is gold, You’ll be my best friend until we grow old.”

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It’s beyond me how this man is always awake early when he goes to bed so late. I crawl out of bed and pull a sweatshirt out of his closet. It’s just long enough to cover everything; I forget that he’s not incredibly tall until these moments. 

“There you are,” I let out, walking into the kitchen as he’s making coffee for us. He’s still just in his boxers, a feast for the eyes. Well, mine, at least. Sliding my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. 

“Good morning,” his voice still slightly husky from sleep. “I was gonna bring this to you– go get back in bed.” 

My face still pressed against him as I giggled, “We can pretend I didn’t ruin the surprise.” He rubs my arm for a second before I force myself to go back into the bedroom. Crawling back into my spot in bed, it’s not long before he comes in, pushing the door shut with his foot. 

“Thank you, baby,” I tell him as I’m stealing my coffee from him. He slides back into bed, pulling my legs over his.  “Mmm, wish we could just do this all day.” Resting my head against him for a second. 

“Hear me out.. We both just quit our jobs,” he says, giggling quietly. 

I look at him, my eyebrow cocked as high as it can go, “You’d never give up the bar, don’t lie.” 

“You’re right, but I also make my schedule so.. I could just not work,” he says. “You, on the other hand.” His side-eye was astronomical as he took a big sip of coffee. 

The last thing I need is for him to realize I’ve been fucking around with my job. 

“How long do you have to be there?” I ask. 

He sets his coffee mug on his nightstand, mumbling, “Josh is closing tonight, so whenever he tells me to leave.” 

“…so we could go out?” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Anything where we can dress cute and not be in YOUR bar,” I smirk, batting my eyelashes at him a bit. 

His little smile creeps onto his face, “Mmmm.. maybe we can grab dinner then?” 

“Ooo, yes!” I can’t contain my excitement, not fully expecting him to agree that easily.  “You don’t mind dressing up with me?” 

He laughs before saying, “I can clean up once in a while.” 

“More handsome than usual? I’ll have to fight the girls off you.” I giggle, handing him my coffee to set on the nightstand for me. 

He turns back to me, pulling me onto his lap. He chuckles to himself, “I don’t think you’ll have to be doing all that,” he leans up to kiss me, mumbling against my lips. “But it’s cute that you would.” 

I lean forward, laying against his chest and tucking my face into his neck; I’ll never get over how cozy he is. He pulls the comforter up to cover me, wrapping his arms around me. Closing my eyes and breathing him in, enjoying the feeling of him gently scratching my back. 

“Maybe you were onto something with quitting our jobs,” I said into him with a laugh. 

Feeling his chest vibrate when he laughs makes my heart flutter a little; I shift, trying to make myself a little more comfortable. My hips pressing into him slightly. 

“Hey you,” his voice low. “I can only control what happens so much if you’re gonna be doing that.” 

I sit up to look at him, fully letting my hips grind into him, “What do you mean?” I quietly ask him, pretending I can’t already tell what’s happening. 

“Char-” 

“Yes, Jake?” I smirk, my hands settling on his stomach, toying with the waistband of his boxers. Watching his eyes flit between mine and my lips as I sit here. “You already know if I start something, I’m more than happy to finish it.”

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Leaving him today proved more difficult than I expected. Granted, deciding to try and just give him head turned into early morning sex. Not that I’m complaining; it was lovely, but it definitely slowed down the getting-out-of-bed process a bit. 

Once I made it back “home,” I found myself rummaging through the clothes I had in the closet. I pulled out a pair of light-wash jeans. I couldn’t tell you the last time I wore regular jeans. The idea finally hit. I pulled out one of my body suits, slipped it on, and looked in the mirror. The neckline is deep; I readjusted it a little so the cleavage looked a little better. 

I sit in front of my mirror, dragging my makeup bag closer. Maybe just a little extra won’t hurt. I pick up my phone, turn on some music, and check my texts before I actually start. 

Jacob: time is going by so slow this is painful   

Me: Oh, are we feeling clingy today? 

I giggle, setting my phone down and starting to work on my makeup. It’s always been a therapeutic thing for me. I’ve never been one to wear a ton of it, but the process of getting ready was always lovely. It’s probably something to do with routine. Nevertheless, even if it’s just me fluffing up my eyebrows and mascara, the few moments with some quiet music always comforted me. 

Mindlessly, I sat there, listening to whatever came on shuffle while intermittently replying to Jacob. I love it when he sends me random thoughts or just wants to have a little conversation when I’m not in his presence. It feels nice having someone just want to talk to you. 

Though, I have been very fortunate since meeting him. After introducing me to Quinn, Willa, and Mel, I suddenly feel less alone. Even if Cass did just recently pass away, and I’m still trying to handle that on my own, it really is lovely just to have a handful of friends who are there to just chat about whatever and giggle like she and I used to. I’ve never been one to have many friends, so having a little group of us now is fun. 

Part of my problem was living so far north; there were just not many people growing up, and unfortunately, my family situation wasn’t necessarily ideal. My sister is thirteen years older than me, so we didn’t have that close sisterly bond that a lot do. We’re more friendly now that we’re both adults, but I wouldn’t have considered her like a friend to me growing up. I spent a lot of my life as a makeshift only child because she moved out when I was six. 

My parents are also quite a bit older and were deep into their careers while I was growing up, which is probably part of why I get too invested in my job. I love them, but it made me grow up a bit faster, and I ended up not having many friends because of it. I didn’t relate to the kids around me, and there were only so many to begin with. 

I had never been more relieved than when I met Cass, and she clung to me, regardless of how annoying I can be sometimes.  

I’m quickly pulled out of my thoughts when I realize my music stopped. Looking over to my phone, oh no. My boss’s name sits across the screen; why right now? I stare at it as it rings, watching it go back to my lock screen, and the music starts playing again; taking a deep breath and continuing to get ready. 

What are you doing? Why wouldn’t you answer it? 

He’ll leave a voicemail, and then, at least, I can figure out what to tell him.

You’re really playing with fire here, Char. 

Once I’m happy with how my lipstick looks, I tend to nitpick it; I grab my phone nervously. Staring at the notification that my boss had indeed left a voicemail, I hesitated to click on it. 

“Hey Charlotte, I was hoping to catch you real quick to chat, but if you could just call me back when you get a second, that would be great. Thanks.” 

The nerves die off a bit after listening, not too bad, okay. He definitely didn’t sound happy, but it could have been worse. It will be worse if you don’t just call him back.  I will just.. Not right now. I sat there staring at my phone for a second before doing the only thing I knew would make me feel better. 

Me: I’m excited to show you my outfit soon 

Jacob: you’re gonna give me a heart attack aren’t you? 

His response made me laugh; it’ll never make sense how he’s never managed to keep a girl around. He truly is such a lovely man; I’ve never had someone make me feel like he does. I’m sure he’s tired of being told how sweet he is, but I don’t know if there’s a better word to describe him. I’ve never met someone like him who wasn’t on the pages of a book I was reading. 

Plugging in my curling iron, I pick up my phone, scrolling through emails to see what I should reply to before I leave—quickly answering some that don’t require much brain power before taking the time to curl my hair. I’ll clock in for a little bit before I go just to see how much I can get through. Plus, he might want a few minutes to change and whatnot anyway.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I spent a while working before I finally left. I definitely didn’t need nearly as much time to get ready as I thought. The drive back to Portland felt like forever, likely because I’m actually excited to be here tonight. I pull out my phone to text him as I walk up the stairs. 

Me: I’m here :) 

Jacob: the doors unlocked 

I sneak into the apartment, and I can hear him shuffling around; why am I nervous to see him? 

The sound of his boots against the wood floor echoes through the space as he comes around the corner. His eyes rake down my body, and I feel warm just seeing him. 

“You look–” he says, grabbing my hands, still fully looking me up and down.  “God, you’re so gorgeous.” Feeling the blood rush into my face. I don’t think I’ll get used to him complimenting me. 

I finally got a full look at him; he was in all black, his button-up hardly even buttoned, with a jacket on top. His black jeans ripped at the knees, with his nicer boots. His necklace sits pretty against his chest; his watch and the few rings he added made my mouth water. 

“You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I tell him, leaning in closer to him. “Glad I get to stare at you all night.” 

“You and me both,” he says, his hands holding my waist. “Are you sure you want to go out? We could just.. stay here..” He gives me a slow, lazy wink as he leans in, pressing his lips against my cheek. 

Running my hands up his chest, fiddling with his necklace, “If I weren’t starving, I’d consider.” 

“So later?”

“With you looking like this,” I giggle, patting his bare chest. “I’m going to say absolutely yes.”

His eyes light up at my answer, and with a smirk, he says, “Well, we should probably head out if you’re starving. Definitely not to get to the other part or anything.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I’d say the best part of him living in the Old Port is that anything we do is typically within walking distance from the bar. It’s not a super common thing in Maine to be able to walk to whatever you want, so it’s definitely a perk of the area. 

He immediately grabbed my hand once we started our walk to grab food, lacing his fingers through mine. I wonder if he’s thinking of this as a date. It’s kind of hard to deny at this point, but we just didn’t say the word. My stomach turns at the thought. Maybe I like him a bit more than I planned, but it’s okay. It’s fine. Right? 

His voice pulls me out of my thoughts when he asks, “Have you been to Pai Mein?” 

“No, Cass and I pretty much only went to bars out here,” I tell him, looking over at him. 

“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” he says,  meeting my stare. “Sam convinced me after he talked about it a million times, and unfortunately, he was correct. It's so good.”

I laugh at his disappointment but squeeze his hand a few times, “I’m excited.” 

We spend the rest of the walk quietly pointing out things in the shops we’re passing, and I’m trying to ignore our reflections in the window when we stop for a second to look at something a little closer. However, getting a glimpse of him in his going-out fit just reminds me of how good he looks tonight, and I could just take a bite out of him. 

He pulls open the door to the restaurant, letting me through first. I gently grab his hand as he talks to the hostess. Following behind him to our table, which ended up being towards the back of the small space. He carefully pulled out my chair for me; why was that kinda..? 

We sat quietly for a minute, browsing the menu after ordering our drinks. Everything here sounds good; this is awful. I look up, watching him as he reads through things. It’s hard not to get distracted by him, even when he’s genuinely doing nothing. He fidgets quietly, gently picking at his bottom lip as he reads. Finally, looking up when the server comes back with our drinks to mumble a small ‘thank you.’ 

“It’s cute in here,” I tell him, glancing over at the kitchen which is exposed. 

His lips pull into a soft smile, “I had a feeling you’d like it.” 

It’s only a few minutes until the server is back to take our order, stealing the menus back from us, and now there’s nothing else to look at besides him.

“So, the bar was terrible today, huh?” I tease him.

He leans forward a little before saying, “Awful, actually.” His little giggle followed it, which only made the butterflies worse. 

“Well, at least,” I start, but hesitate when I feel his hand graze the back of my calf. He leans into his other hand, elbow propped up on the table as he lightly runs his hand up and down my leg. I don’t think I realized how close we were until just now. “Um, at least you’re free for the evening.” 

I don’t know what’s worse, the way he touches me constantly or the way he stares at me when I talk. 

“Mhmm,” he hums. “I’d be sitting in my office if you didn’t want to do something, so I appreciate it.”

Of course, he would. “You know you’re allowed to just leave the bar if you don’t need to be there?” 

His hand found its way up to hold my knee, and I snaked my own under the table, playing with the two rings he had on. 

“I don’t even know what else I would do,” he admits. 

I tap the back of his hand a few times, “It sounds like you need a hobby.”

“I could read more,” he says quietly. “Maybe I can actually read one of those books you seem to enjoy so much.” 

The cough just sort of happened, so I grabbed my drink quickly. Oh my god, he would be lethal if he had more ideas on how to be perfect. 

“I definitely meant to bring you one,” I let out a small laugh. “You just have to promise you won’t make fun of me if you hate it.”

“Hun, my favorite movie is a rom-com. You really think I’m going to laugh at you for reading romance?” 

I can feel my face start to turn red, “Yeah, but there’s.. smut.. in them.” 

“Yes, and,” he whispers back. “If anything, it could just benefit you.” 

I clear my throat, “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” 

“Why afraid?” he questions, but thankfully for me, our server walks up with our food in time, so I do not have to explain that to him.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Something about him makes the silence comfortable, in this case, just the silence as I may as well have inhaled my food. Sam is correct– they have incredible ramen. He told me about some things that happened in the bar while he was “trapped” there today– his word, not mine. Mindlessly, I found myself with my foot hooked around his leg until he was done eating, and he quickly dropped his hand down to hold the back of my leg again. 

No matter how many times I’ve witnessed him pay for something, it makes my head spin when he does. Something about him being confident enough not to look at the bill makes me sweat; I think because he’s so quiet and unassuming, it's a little shocking whenever he does something to that degree. 

I followed his lead back outside; he held his hand back for me, and I immediately laced my fingers into his. 

“Should we.. grab drinks? Since we’re already out,” he asks.  

I look over at him; he’s so close. I let out a quiet, “Where are you thinking?” 

“Wherever you want,” he says, tugging me closer. 

“Wait, really?” 

He leans in, leaving a sweet kiss on my lips, mumbling, “Really.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

We wandered around, finding ourselves in another older bar. Posting up on some barstools towards the end of the bar, we both order drinks. Hearing him order whiskey makes me wish we hadn’t left the apartment. I was a bit surprised when he suggested drinks, and honestly, curiosity got the best of me. 

Watching him actually enjoy himself and have drinks was such a treat for me. I was prepared for him to drink a little too much after meeting him the first time, just owning a bar at a younger age. I’ve been around bar owners enough to know that it’s a slippery slope, and many of them tend to slide down it. 

So, when I realized that he was actually not a big drinker, it was relieving. Obviously, the black-out drunk underage story did clear up some things for me; even if it wasn’t his best moment, it was still precious to see. It’s nice seeing him be a normal person sometimes. 

We sat there sipping on drinks for a while, talking about whatever came to mind. Something about how he speaks, I could just listen to him read the dictionary. Maybe my drink is also starting to kick in. 

He is full of stories about him with his brothers, and their family just seems so fun. The way he laughs during almost every story about them is so adorable; I love that he loves them so much. Sitting here, I notice the pink in his cheeks slowly creeping in. 

After the last couple of weeks, I definitely have noticed little things that he does, whether he’s aware of it or not. He admitted right away to be a physically affectionate kind of person, but I don’t think I anticipated what that meant besides sex, obviously. 

He has a way of just making contact with me– subconsciously. Lightly grabbing my hand or my arm randomly while telling me something. He’ll leave his hand on my thigh while I’m talking, gently scratching or tapping his fingers against me. The little touches are something I wasn’t necessarily prepared for, but now I crave them when I’m around him. 

“I’ll be right back, hun,” he mumbles, kissing the side of my head before scurrying off to the bathroom. I turn to watch him walk off, not that I’m necessarily proud of that, but he looks so fucking good, it’s hard not to. 

After a few minutes, I feel his arms wrap around me, tucking his face into my neck, secretly pressing a few little pecks into my neck.

 “Mmm, hi,” his little mumbles were barely loud enough for me to hear.

“Are you a little tipsy, Jacob?” I ask quietly. 

His smile gave him away, “Who’s to say?” 

“Oh, I think I’m to say,” I giggle. “I was hoping I would get to meet him at some point.” 

His laugh flooded my brain, “Well, eat your heart out, honey.” 

We moved to a little table off in the corner, both of us sitting in the booth seat together. His arm propped up on the back of it as he turned to face me a little, with his drink in the other hand. I can see in his eyes that the alcohol is definitely hitting, and I shouldn’t be as excited as I am for it. 

“So, I know they told you about my failed attempts at dating,” he says, taking a small sip of his drink. “Who has been lucky enough to take you out?” 

My face warms at the thought of admitting that I would usually have never picked someone like him, “Ohhh.. haha, well.” 

“It’s only fair,” his eyebrow raises. I hate that he’s right. 

“Just very clean-cut, shitty finance guys,” I sigh. “They were always just.. boring.” 

He giggles at the comment. 

“Not that my job on paper sounds exhilarating, but–” I try to justify myself a little. 

He chimes in quickly, “No, but the fact you asked for bourbon the first time I met you definitely made me curious.” His voice lowers slightly before asking, “How did you go from clean-cut, boring men to .. us sleeping together?” Oh, what a good question, Jacob. 

“You were just .. so— nice,” I tell him, which isn’t a total lie.  

“Me being nice is all it took? Honey, get higher standards,” he laughs, his eyebrows raised. 

If he only knew that, he is so incredibly far above the standard for men. 

“I mean, you were also so humble,” I start. He deserves to have his ego stroked. Leaning close to his ear to whisper the rest, “I knew the dick had to be good.” 

His hand grips the top of my thigh tighter as he quietly laughs. He turns his face, hovering his lips over my ear when he mumbles, “Bet none of them made you come, huh?” 

“You’d be correct,” I tell him. “And if I did, it was because I took care of it.” 

His eyes drifted from my eyes to my lips, “You deserve better than that.” 

“All I’m gonna say is,” I start, letting out a small laugh. “I don’t want to know how you got so good in bed, but I’m not going to complain.” 

His eyes light up at the subtle compliment, “You think I'm that good?” 

Great. Fantastic. Super. Wonderful. Outstanding. Riveting. Incredible. Deserves a standing ovation. 

“You could say that,” I say before sipping on my drink and watching him pull his lip in with his teeth for a second. The way this man looks at me at any given moment makes me a little nervous, but adding alcohol has only made it worse. 

“Don’t be shy now,” He teases. “You already know the bulk of my past with women, but I’m not afraid to admit that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had.” 

Grabbing his chin, I pull him close, pressing a couple of small kisses against his lips. He tastes like whiskey. The butterflies when I open my eyes quickly, seeing how his eyelashes sit against his cheeks. His expression is so soft; he really is the sweetest boy.

“The feeling is mutual, babe,” I mumble against his lips, feeling the smile before I could see it. His hand rubs my thigh as we sit there with our faces a breath apart. I had never been with someone where I felt like I couldn’t stop myself; something about Jacob was different. So.. maybe I have a bit of a crush on him.. But how could I not?  The cute little smile on his face when I call him ‘babe’ will never get old. 

He’s intoxicating; he has an aura about him that just makes me want to crawl into his skin. Something about him short circuits my brain a lot of the time: the way he looks at me and always seems to want to take care of me– in a few different ways. 

“Are you excited for Wednesday?” I ask, forcing myself to focus on him. 

His eyebrows pull together, “What do you mean?”

“It’s the anniversary of the bar being open, isn’t it?” I start to second guess myself. 

“Oh, yes, it is.” His voice sounded surprised. Running his hand over his face, “Shit, that’s soon.” 

“Quinn mentioned something about it,” I tell him, trying to see how he reacts.

He laughs uncomfortably, “Yeah if there’s ever a celebration, assume they and Josh are behind it.”

Why does he seem nervous? I finally ask quietly, “Do you not want a celebration thing for it?”

“No, it’s okay, I just-” He hesitates a bit. 

“You worked hard; you deserve your moment.”

“I mean–”

“No, you shut up,” I cut him off, poking his chest lightly with a small laugh, “Mr. ‘I-can-hardly-leave-the-bar-without-checking-in-every-two-minutes,’ you deserve the attention.”

He moves closer to me, “I only want your attention.” I could throw up. 

I tap the tip of his nose a few times, “Don’t try to suck up to me right now; this is about you.” 

“Will you be there?” He asks, his eyes flit between my eyes and my mouth. 

“Do you want me there?”

“Mhm,” he nods. 

“I’ll hold your hand if you get nervous.” 

“Mmm, perfect,” He mumbles. “Actually, I’m a bit nervous now if you wanna get a jumpstart,” he pops his eyebrows a few times. 

He holds out his hand for me, sliding mine into it. Nodding his head towards the bar, I follow his lead. With a tight grip on mine, his hand pulled me through people who were getting up to the bar quickly. Ordering more drinks for the two of us, he turns to look at me as we wait; his thumb is rubbing against mine. He hands my drink to me before grabbing his. 

He starts to walk back over to the little table we were sitting at when he stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at me. 

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s Bob Seger!”

I can’t help but laugh at how excited he gets. After a second, I can hear it through the chatter of the bar, the sweet sounds of Bob ringing through yet another bar. He slowly walks backward toward the table, sipping on his drink for a second before the chorus hits.

He pulls our hands close to his mouth as he sings, “And those Hollywood nights, in those Hollywood hills,” pretending my hand is the microphone. I pull him to the side so he won’t trip over a chair in the process, but that doesn’t stop him. He’s adorable. 

“She was looking so right, in her diamonds and frills,” his raspy little voice still going strong. He holds my hand up, spinning me in front of him before pulling me in close. He wraps his other arm carefully around me and sways the two of us together; he can’t be real, my hand still in his as we rock back and forth. His eyes are soft as he looks at me, and I swear, even in the dim lights of this bar, I can see them sparkle. 

“All those big city nights,” he sings next to my ear. “In those high rolling hills.”

Backing into the table we had been at, he spins us around, letting me sit down first. He sets his drink on the table before sitting next to me. I just watch him sing the last lines of the chorus and sing the guitar parts when there are no words left. I love it when he is just.. himself. I could spend forever watching him have fun. 

Once his karaoke moment ends, he sits back against the booth, quietly staring at me with his eyebrows pulled together. 

“What’s going on in there?” I smooth his brow with my thumb. 

“What am I supposed to do next weekend?” He asks, sipping on his drink. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’ll be the holiday weekend, and I assume you will be with your family,” he says, sounding a bit sad. 

Shit, I didn’t even think about that. 

I force out a quick, “Oh, that’s true..” 

“Mhmm,” he lets out a little sigh, “And I’ve been spoiled with seeing you all the time.” His hand ran down the back of my head gently. 

“Ohh,” I taunt. I have to tease him a little, asking, “Is someone going to miss me?” 

He pouts his bottom lip, “I fear I just might.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” I coo; my hand holds the side of his face, running my thumb over his cheekbone as he stares back at me. 

He leans into my hand and sighs, “Mmm, I know.” 

“Well, maybe,” I start, tracing my finger along his jaw. “We can play that little game again while I’m home.” 

“Mmm, what game is that?” His eyes focus more on my lips than my eyes, which honestly is okay with me. 

“You know.. where you tell me all the terrible thoughts in your head,” I whisper, leaning closer to him. “And I’ll send you a photoshoot in all the lingerie that I own.”

“All?” His eyebrows raised. 

I giggle to myself, pressing my lips into his. 

“Mhm. Whatever your heart desires, baby.”

He tucked his face into the crook of my neck, and I could feel how warm he was. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“Why are you hiding?” I say through a laugh. 

He double pats my leg, mumbling, “You.” 

“Me!?” 

Sitting up a little, he leans close to my ear, “Sometimes you just say things, and I have to fight demons not to let very specific things happen.”

Oh! I guess I do forget that he’s still a man sometimes. I slid my hand over his lap, and a shitty little smirk laced my lips as I did it. He grabbed my hand insanely fast, making me laugh as he looked at me with his eyebrow perked up. 

“Char– I swear,” his voice lowers. “I’d throw you over my shoulder and run out of here if I could stand up right now.” 

I lay my head against his arm that’s propped up on the back of the seat, looking up at him through my lashes, “I wish you would.”  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After one more drink and Jacob composing himself, I watch him glance at the time on his watch.  His English accent made an appearance, “Shall we head back, darling?”

“I think so,” I giggle at him. He holds out his hand for me, keeping my hand in his as we go up to the bar for him to close his tab. 

He let go of me for all of ten seconds, but watching his hands as he signed the bill, sliding his wallet back into his pocket- my mouth was watering. He can be so smooth sometimes, I think, as he slides his hand back into mine. 

“Ready?” 

I nod quickly, “Lead the way, babes.”

We stumble around giggling, hand in hand, and I can’t get over how silly he is when he’s drunk. The smile on this boy is brighter than the sun. His arm drapes over my shoulders, and I can’t help it when I slide my hand into his. 

He grabs my face, turning my head and leaning in for a kiss or two. Giggling when I ask, “What are we gonna do with this drunken sailor?” 

“Put him in a long boat til’ he’s sober!” 

My jaw drops before the laugh comes out, not anticipating him to sing a sea shanty in the middle of the Old Port. I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised, considering who we are working with here. 

“Now, is that the only option?” I ask– yes, I know the song. 

“Put him in bed with the captain’s daughter,” his sweet voice sings, wiggling his eyebrows at me. 

He’s so cute; I can’t stand him. 

“Let’s stick with the long boat tonight, Sailor,” I grab his hands as he looks at me, “I like calling you ‘Captain’ too much– I don’t wanna ruin that.” 

He pulls one of my hands up, kissing the back of it and then my knuckles, staring at me the entire time; his little grin kills me as he says, “Every time I think I have my sea legs around you, you say some shit like that.” 

Amid our giggles, he pulls out a cigarette, carefully lighting it. Watching him hold it between his lips as he covers the flame with his hand, preventing the wind from messing with it. I shouldn’t enjoy this like I do. I can see him inhale, and how he breathes out the smoke makes my knees weak. Maybe it’s just the alcohol talking. 

His laugh brought me back to earth, “What?” 

“I– um,” I hesitated, looking down quickly, not necessarily sure of how to tell him that I was just drooling over his bad habit. I look back at him as he’s about to inhale again, but as soon as his hand drops back down, I don’t know what came over me. Stepping in front of him, my hands pull his face to mine, breathing him in as we kiss. My lips encouraged him to just.. exhale into me. I feel his smirk against me. 

He mumbles, “I didn’t think you liked.. that.. kind of thing.”

“Me either.”

His eyebrow raises at my response, “Oh?” 

I laugh at myself before finally caving, “You just look so fine when you do; I guess I don’t mind it.” 

“You think so, huh?” he says smugly, his hand pulling me close to him and settling on my lower back. He mumbles, “Here.” Pulling the cigarette back up to his lips, he takes a small drag before leaning in. His lips slightly parted, breathing the small amount of smoke into me, humming a small ‘mmm’ against my lips as he pulled away. I look to the side, breathing out the little bit of smoke left. 

“Um,” sneaks out of me as I look back at him. The cool air makes the tip of his nose a little red, mixing with the alcohol that has his cheeks tinted pink, his eyes practically twinkling in the dim glow of the moon and a distant street lamp. My heart pounds in my chest as we just stare at each other for what feels like an hour, even though it was maybe a few seconds. Maybe.. this is a little more than a crush. 

His hand moved from my back, sliding down my forearm and into my hand, his sweet little voice mumbling, “Come on, honey. Let’s go home.” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I plop down on the couch, watching him wander around in the kitchen. He finally makes his way over to join me, holding out a glass for me.  

“Trying to keep me drunk, are you?” I ask, taking the glass of what I can only assume is bourbon. 

He giggles as he sits down, “Not drunk, just relaxed.”  

“Mmm, I’m sure,” I raise an eyebrow but still take a sip. “So, what do you guys do for the holiday?” 

He lets out a little sigh, “Well, my parents will be here. They always come up and stay in an Airbnb nearby.” 

“Is that.. bad?” 

“No, not at all. They always get a place big enough so we can all go over and spend the day together,” he says, his tone sounding off. What about that is bothering him? “Sometimes we end up sleeping there; it just depends on how much everyone has to drink or if my mom convinces us to stay there.” He smiles a little, but something just doesn’t seem right about it. Reaching my hand over and running it down the back of his head, playing with a little section of his hair. 

“Is something wrong?” I ask, my eyebrows pulling together as I look at him. 

He sips his drink before answering, “I mean.. no.” 

“Wanna try that again, sailor?” I can’t stop the smirk that grows on my face, and watching him smile back at me made it worth it. 

“I’m just being a little dramatic about it,” he giggles, the most incredible sound I could hear right now. “I know Willa and Quinn are coming this year, and I guess I’m just.. a little bummed about– seventh wheeling.” 

I can’t help but laugh after watching him count in his head to figure it out. I wish I could go with him so he didn’t have to be alone. I mean, I– oh no. 

“Well,” I start. “I will be bored out of my mind with my parents and sister, so I’ll at least bug you throughout the day.”

He turns his head, kissing the palm of my hand before looking back to me, “You’re so sweet. We can be bored together.” I scoot a bit closer to him, letting our legs bump into each other. 

We sit there for a little bit, slowly sipping on our drinks and laughing about random things together. His hand found comfort on my leg, per usual. The fact he put rings on tonight made it hard for me not to want to touch his hands– sitting there twisting them slowly, these need to stay on forever. 

Standing up, he drinks the last of his bourbon and quietly sets his glass in the sink. I watch as he slowly walks off, stopping kind of abruptly once he realizes I’m still sitting here. 

“You comin’, love?” his English accent laid on thick, one eyebrow raised, when he hit me with a wink. My thighs clenched at the sight of it, which he definitely noticed because of that stupid smirk on his face. 

I stand up, wander over to him, and quietly ask, “Where are we going?” 

He leans down, scooping me up in his arms, bridal style, which makes us both laugh, as he starts walking to his room.  

“The real question,” he starts. I hate that the accent is kind of hot. “What do you want to do with this drunken sailor?”  

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Nineteen

FDOG Master Post | Masterlist | Playlist

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That was one of his perks when it came to performing and hitting the road. He could quite literally stay on stage all night if he wanted to, he actually may have done it a few times right when he was breaking out on the rock scene. While others tired around midnight, he only became more awake.

You had grown used to the late night calls from the road, from cities you honestly didn't even know existed. Middle of nowhere Kansas for example at three in the morning so he could tell you about a new riff he came up with in the middle of a show. Most would get annoyed by his random phone calls, you adore them.

However, he doesn't have to call anymore, at least not right now. His latest tour just ended, so he's back home. When Jake wants to talk, he just crawls in bed and whispers in your ear now. Not last night though, in fact he actually went to bed with you, claiming he wanted to fix his sleep schedule. By 10 p.m. he was laying beside you, but when you woke up for glass of water at midnight, he'd snuck off back to his in-home studio.

Some dogs you can't teach new tricks.

"What time did you come up?" You ask softly, pushing some stray hairs away from his eyes. His hair is always a mess when he first wakes up.

He stretches his legs and rubs the sleep from the corners of his eyes with the palms of his hands, "Three, I think."

You can't help but tease him lightly, "That's pretty early."

"It's pretty early right now." He yawns, covering his face, then peeks from behind his fingers, "What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

"Fuck."

You grin as he turns inward to you, snaking an arm around your middle and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His lips press against your skin where you can feel the lightest hint of a smile on them, his warm breaths puffing against you as they slow and even out.

"How tired are you?" You ask softly, shifting beside him.

"Why?" He asks.

"I dunno."

"Oh, I see." He chuckles and pulls away, "Playing shy with me."

"Don't go," you whine softly, scooting yourself closer and gazing up at him, the covers pulled to your chin creating an adorable scene, "the bed gets cold when you leave. You're like a space heater."

"Cute." He mumbles, peeking under the covers, "That's why all your clothes go missing by the morning?"

This time you push away from him, rolling on your side so your back faces his direction. His laughter is raspy from sleep as he tries to pull you back to him but you manage to sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the mattress. Last night you didn't lose all your clothes, you wake this morning clad in just a pair of underwear though.

A single calloused finger traces down the line of your back, swirling at the base of it, "You've got goosebumps. Come back and I'll warm you up."

He was right, little bumps cover your skin. It's unknown if it's from the chill of the room or his finger however.

"It's too early for your teasing." You peek back at him over your shoulder. He's laying on his back, one arm lazily resting above his head while the other is stretched out to you, still sketching invisible designs onto your skin.

The faintest feeling of a capital J is being traced over your hip.

"Won't tease," he says, then holds his pinky finger up in promise. That smile he loves so much crawls across your lips as you turn and crawl back into his arms, hovering over him as he smiles up at you, murmuring softly, "There's my girl."

Your face is so close to his, his sleepy eyes have gone crossed, but you don't say anything about it out of fear that he'll move away. So you stare at him a moment longer before laying down and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrap snug around you, palm rubbing up and down the expanse of your back, venturing lower and lower each time his hand smooths downward. After a moment longer, you sit up and straddle him properly, cupping his face in your hands. His cheeks are tinged pink, he's always slept hot, and his five o'clock shadow from yesterday has turned into morning stubble today.

"How can you look so sweet yet provocative at the same time?" Your finger traces down the side of his jaw as he studies you over with gentle eyes, peeking through his long lashes at you.

Licking his lips, he replies back in a husky voice, "The same way you're an angel and a minx wrapped into one, I guess."

You smile bashfully, tucking your chin downwards towards your chest as if to keep your blushing face hidden. He can still see you through your hair though, it seems to make you all the more enchanting. Your eyes flicker to his hands, once planted on your thighs they have begun to creep upwards, to your hips where they fiddle with the elastic of your panties for a second before higher and higher. Up your sides, over your ribcage until he's delicately cupping the underside of your breasts. You bite your lip through a smile, gazing at him with excitement.

"It's only nine and we've already sinned." He sighs, as if so disappointed in yourselves. "Our lust will send us straight to hell if we continue on with our ways."

"I was damned the second we met, Kiszka." You psh at him, leaning over him with a look so sultry in your eyes it could make ice melt. "Also, no sinning yet, we haven't even kissed, we've only touched."

He crosses that off the list the very instant you've finished your sentence, pecking your lips with his own. It only takes but a single strike of a match for a flame to catch, and you crash your lips into his when he lays his head back against the pillow. Oh, how perfect he is. And oh, how in love with him you are.

Whatever else was on the to-do list this morning has been tossed away without a second thought or a care in the world. For this moment is far more important than any other chore, errand, or task you had planned for the day. Jake had a talent for flipping your schedule with just a kiss on the lips.

When you pull away for a breath, he doesn't let it last long, making you gasp for air when he places his firm hand on the back of your neck and pulls you back in for another passionate caress. You hum into his mouth as his tongue ventures out over your soft lips, your soft sounds, like a gentle melody almost, causing his hips to search upward for your own and his mouth to break out into a perfect smile. It makes it harder to continue on with your kisses, but that's what makes it so much fun.

A delicious throb has begun to pulse between your thighs, so you can't help but push yourself down against him. His light grunt slides into a groan, arms wrapping around your body to pull you closer, to keep you as close as he possible can. With your chests pressed tight together, it's almost as if your hearts have morphed into one beating organ.

The kisses have slowed, desperate passion fizzling to its first end. Surely there will be plenty more beginnings and ends today, let alone this morning.

His lips pucker against yours lazily, smacking softly over your bottom one, to the corner of your mouth then up to your cupids bow. It feels like a dance, with its own steps and rhythm, as if a spell is being cast upon you.

He pulls away an inch, craning his neck back to look at your face up close. You grin, brushing your nose dearly against his, causing him to smile back.

He asks in a low tone, "Coffee first? Or sex?"

Laughter bursts from your chest, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you shake with giggles. His chest bounces with his own silent chuckles, hand coming up to smooth over your head.

"Ugh," you sigh, relaxing against him, "I'd like to say sex first but I think I'll need coffee for energy."

"Stay here," he murmurs, flipping you gently so your back is now pressed to the mattress, kissing your temple as he rolls off of you and pads across the bedroom in just a pair of boxers, "I'll brew us some." He knows exactly how you take yours. "Omelets after?"

"Ohhhh you know me so well," you stretch, feline like, watching him lean against the doorway, watching you in the morning light, "it makes me so horny."

He rolls his eyes and subtly adjusts himself before turning and sauntering away, "Settle down, I haven't even made it downstairs yet."

You smile to yourself as he vanishes into the hallway, letting the steady padding of his feet down the staircase lull you. The house is big, but not too big to where you can't hear him opening cabinets and placing two mugs down on the counter. You can hear him click the buttons on the coffee maker and the sound and smell of the roasted beans floats up to you, making your eyes shut softly.

Sharing a bed with Jake has made sleep come easy to you. His smell has stained the sheets and pillowcases, when he first went away on tour you feared when the sun went down and you crawled into bed alone. But, it went smoother than you thought, clutching his pillow to your chest, laying your head where he usually lays his and sleeping in his spot night after night. It's as though the sheets are his arms and you're wrapped up in them till dawn. The sound of him just down the stairs though makes dozing all the easier. Knowing that he's right there and not across the sea, in a different time zone where the sun is going down while you're getting up, it comforts you on an entirely different level.

Sleep has just begun to consume you, starting at your head and working its way down, until the bedding slowly slips off your body and someone has begun to travel up it.

"I was gone like five minutes and you're already asleep?" He teases with a growl in his voice, his lips brushing up the skin of your chest and shoulder to the shell of your ear.

You inhale deeply through your nose and smile sleepily, chest arching upwards to him as he retraces his way back down your body, lips tickling kisses onto your tummy and each of your hips.

"Sorry," you exhale, humming in content and widening your legs as you gaze at the ceiling, feeling his adventurous lips kiss your inner thighs, "it's so easy to sleep when you're home."

"I know what you mean." He nods, hair tickling your skin as it brushes over you. His eyes glance up to you as his breath fans over your clothed center, watching as you stare patiently yet expectingly at the ceiling. What an angelic view it is.

"Do you miss me when you go away?" You ask softly as if to fill the silence.

You've never been one for complete silence and staring, though Jake enjoys it quite a lot. He compares it to looking at art.

He smiles to himself, readjusting his position on his forearms and rests his chin softly on your lower tummy, "How crazy is it that I missed you just now downstairs in the kitchen?"

You lift yourself onto your elbows, grinning down at him with messy hair. He smiles back at you, the tops of his ears turning pink when you tilt your head to rest against your shoulder. With softened, fond eyes, you reach a single hand out to push his hair back from his face, combing your fingers through it and gently cupping his cheek as you admire him.

"Crazy, but sweet." Your voice is tiny. He loves it.

It makes him feel all warm and gooey inside, like a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie. He leans into your touch, then rests his head against your thigh. You lick your lips then bite the lower one, patience wearing thin. The smell of coffee invites you both downstairs for a cup, but you both know neither of you will be getting up for anything at all anytime soon.

"Lay back." He says, moving to sit on his knees and moves his hands straight to the sides of your underwear, hooking his fingers beneath the fabric and pulling them off as you let yourself fall back into the sheets and lift your legs for easy discarding. He tosses them aside, sliding his hands down the outsides of your smooth legs before pressing against the insides and spreading you out for him. With a growl and leans down and puts his mouth on you, hands gripping your thighs and moving to cup your ass.

Airy sighs and soft mewls leak from your lips as you tip your head back and clutch the sheets beneath your body. He keeps his lips on you, running his tongue through your wetness and suckling just enough to send a jolt through your body and make your thighs twitch. His hands move, one coasting up to roll your hardened nipples between his finger and thumb, and the other joining his mouth, drawing tight circles with the pad of his thumb over your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck you," it's a hiccuping gasp that makes him smile into your core and flatten out his tongue, your mess smearing across his cheeks and chin. You don't really mean it in the griping, irritated way. You mean it in the Jesus Christ you know me so well, better than I know myself, you know me just as you know how to play all your other instruments way. That's why he pulls away right when you're about to tip over the edge and kisses your knee delicately.

"A bit mouthy this morning." He comments with a smirk as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

As you lay panting, you rest your bare foot against his shoulder in a playful, albeit exhausted, shove as you breathily respond, "You kiss yours with your own?"

His fingers circle the arch of your foot just as you've gone to set it down, and brings it upward so he can press a gentle kiss to the inside of your ankle. Your eyes fall closed, feeling him touch and love you was enough, watching him do it to you seemed too much. It's why you often end up throwing an arm over your eyes as you carelessly moan beneath him.

"Look at me," he says as he shuffles, kicking off his underwear and sliding the head of his cock through you.

I can't you want to whisper back, but end up cracking an eye open anyway. He's staring at you with dark eyes, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. He's so ready, and so are you, but the moment before is almost better than the moment. Your hand reaches for his perched upon your hip, and his fingers interlace with your own as he slowly pushes into you.

"Ah..." he shudders, sinking in further as you lay back with an open mouth, nothing leaving it as he stretches you out pleasantly. "Tight thing. Wound up so tight for me." He huffs, only half way in.

Your walls contract as he looks at you, then squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling. Your breath stutters as he goes another inch, hand squeezing his own. He squeezes back.

"I love you," you whisper at a volume so low you're surprised he can hear you at all.

But he does, and he leans down and pushes in to the hilt, ripping a satisfied, dragged out moan deep from your chest as he licks into your mouth, "I love you too."

He slowly drags in and out, thrusting at an even pace to get you adjusted to the feeling. And when your hand lets go of his and to join the other to claw at the muscles of his back, he takes it as a sign to move a bit faster and with determination. Pants and moans and profanities fill the room, sheets ruffling and the bed frame creaking too, all sounds you've become addicted to since Jake got back.

"Is this a good morning for you, baby?" He murmurs against your heated skin, his voice as steady as can be, as if he's asking you if the weather was nice enough to have breakfast out on the porch.

You laugh through your pleasure, sighing back with a nod, "This is a great morning."

"How do you feel?" He asks again, this time his voice deeper, more sensual.

Jake and his questions. He always waits for an answer.

You swallow thickly, brows coming together as that feeling in your tummy grows heavier and heavier, "Jake-"

"Tell me," he insists that you speak in a voice that is as warm as whiskey, "I want to hear you."

"Good," you whimper, crying out as he brushes against that sweet spot inside of you, "so good."

His head drops, smile laced on his lips, and his hair curtains your faces together. Your breaths intermingle in the little space between you, hardly an inch away from the other. Not only can you hear every little sound he makes, every hitching exhale, every minuscule whimper, but you can see it all too. His thick eyebrows pushing together, creating a crease between them as he concentrates. When his tongue darts out to swipe over his pink lips, wetting them before he pulls the bottom one between his teeth to stifle another sound. Nostrils flaring and eyes squinting before readjusting every time you tighten up. It's all a beautiful show, and you're front row. Actually, you're the plot line.

"Pretty," he pants out, kissing over your hairline, "little thing. Doin' so well."

"Please, don't stop." You sigh, eyes rolling back, especially so when his hand drifts down to gently press a palm into your lower tummy. A high-pitched mewl rips from you as your arms hook behind his neck, "Jake!"

"Don't stop this?" He asks devilishly, though he is just as desperate as you are, his pumping hips faltering every so often. A cry of pure bliss falls onto his ears, one that makes him shiver and cradle you closer to him. You're so close, and so is he. "I won't stop for you, you close? Oh, I can feel you baby."

"Shhhh," you clench your teeth together, eyes squeezing shut as your climax builds, "just fuck me right now. No talking."

"Then just take it," he huffs into your ear, readjusting his position, pushing one leg up higher with his hand holding the back of your thigh as he begins to rock into you, "take it like a good girl."

A delicate noise trembles from your chest as your brows dip and eyes shut, hips moving on their own accord as you try to fight off your release a little longer.

"Oh?" He teases you, hands coming down to grip your hips, keeping you still in his hold, "Don't ignore it, invite it."

"You sound like my yoga instructor." You breathe just enough air to scoff at him before you're buried beneath your moans again.

He chuckles at it though, watching you from the new position on his knees, gritting his teeth together every time you tighten and draw him in. It isn't intentional anymore, you can't help it at all. Blissful cries leak from your lips as you search out for him, holding his arms to ground yourself.

"Jake-" you warn, turning your head, face twisting into a look of such intense pleasure it could be mistaken for pain.

It isn't though, far from it. Your arm moves to shield your face, but he pins them both down, making sure you can't hide from him.

"I know baby," he nods you on, his voice tender as he encourages you, "come on, do it for me. Gonna let go like a nice girl? Just for me?"

"Only-" you gasp and jolt as it creeps up on you, correcting yourself oh so sweetly, "always for you."

He smiles and nods at you, "Let's see it then. Feels so good, yeah? What's it feel like?"

It's too much for 9 a.m. Quite preposterous actually, and if you were both still having those sleepovers where he'd come and visit you for a night at your apartment, it'd be over by now because of a neighbor pounding on a shared wall. But that's not how it is anymore, and it hasn't been that way in quite some time, and it won't ever be like that again. You both know that.

So what does it feel like? Nothing short of heaven, you're sure.

But you can't phrase that right now, you can hardly think. Usually he'd make a comment about how he's fucking you stupid but lack of sleep and coffee is keeping his smug commentary at bay. All together, it's sweet morning sex. Vanilla for the two of you.

How lucky you are.

"I'm coming," you rush out, blinking up at him and opening your mouth to say one last thing, but nothing comes out because it crashes over you like a tidal wave.

He smiles, eyes sleepy and fucked out but his grin is bright. It always is.

"That's it," he murmurs his praises as you let go, spasming around his length and shaking beneath him as he comes down and speaks into the kiss he gives you, "there you go..."

He follows right behind you, letting go of your arms to draw you near and hold you against his chest as he lets go. Soft sounds of love mingle in the room a little longer as he keeps his hips moving to ride you both through it. Slowly, you come down from the high, and he stills, just keeping you in his arms a little longer.

The stillness of the morning, the feeling of him so close, the only noise now being your relaxing breaths. The after of it all is nearly just as perfect. You're unsure if you'll ever want to actually let go of this moment, let alone him.

"Good morning," he hums, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before he barely moves his lips to pucker against it.

A breath leaves your body in a laugh as you turn your head to look at him, "One of our best. I think this has been my favorite morning ever, actually."

The right side of his mouth hooks upward as he quietly tells you, "I've missed mornings like this."

You cup his cheek, his softened eyes making your heart warm and quite possibly grow ten sizes, "Me too."

Another minute of silence goes by. It's funny how right now you enjoy and allow it to soak in.

He pushes himself up onto his forearm, looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, "Let's clean up, then coffee?"

a/n: I'm back and I missed you all so incredibly much. Now, onto the downward (or upward?) spiral of our beloved Covet! The rollercoaster ride is far from over... ;)

as always, big 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. <3

an additional thank u to @allof-ourlove, @alwaysonthemend, @builtbybrokenbells, and @welightthefire. Thank you, my loves, for always having the right words to encourage me amidst life’s stresses. I love you guys so much.

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

-🌼🌼🌼-

"To the covetous man, life is a nightmare. And God lets him wrestle with it as best he may."

Henry Ward Beecher

-🌼🌼🌼-

Late July, 2022

You were not able to contain the huge grin that stretched across your lips. The giggle that escaped as you brushed your teeth was unstoppable. 

Thankfully, you were able to aim your pasty, minty spit in the sink, done with brushing, as the sound bubbled up. 

Jake had brushed his teeth just before you’d bombarded his morning routine time, purposely invading his space. 

What? You couldn’t get enough of him. It was undeniable and you’d decided to just live in the moment. 

And the moment had ended up becoming you, watching him pee as you followed his lead in brushing your own teeth. 

You’d woken up in his arms this morning. No sex the night prior, and none after you’d awoken. Just wanted to sleep with him the night before. Sleeping in his cozy bed was better than sleeping in yours. Being in his strong, sure arms was unlike anything else. He was so warm, safe— equal parts hard and soft. . . 

God. You truly couldn’t get enough. 

Which was why you didn’t leave the bathroom when he inched his pajama pants down just a bit to pee. The top of his ass, peeking out above his waistband. 

You wanted to blame it on the fact that you couldn’t leave due to brushing your teeth. . . but you knew that task could easily be finished in the kitchen sink. You’d done it enough when Elsie had lived with you, always hogging the bathroom. 

But. . . That wasn’t what you’d wanted though. Didn’t want to brush your teeth at the kitchen sink.

The domestic feeling surrounding you was what you wanted. You liked this. No worries or cares, complete comfort in the presence of another person. 

It was different than anything you’d ever had before. 

You had never experienced such a wonderful companionship with someone. Someone you could have world-ending sex with, just to witness that same person using the bathroom. No shame on his end and there was absolutely no shame on your end either. 

It just felt right. 

But, when you glanced over to your bathroom partner and actually got a good look at him peeing, the little spurt of a laugh that trickled from your lips as you spit. . . It came naturally. It was more than humor that came with the laugh, though. 

It really wasn’t because you found it to be a funny moment. The laugh hadn’t come at all from feeling humorous. 

It came smoothly, softly. And strangely. . . appreciatively. You appreciated this moment — appreciated all that came with Jake. 

“What, Miss Toothbrush?” He questioned with a jokingly accusatory tone. His whiskey colored irises peeked at you briefly before he leaned forward to flush and close the lid. He was tucking himself back in his pants, now, and your eyes refused to leave the sight. “Have you never witnessed a guy peeing before?” 

Actually. . . Hm.

“No, I haven’t,” you responded, still quietly smiling at the whole situation, your own eyes flicking to his face. Your brows crinkled. “I’ve just. . . I’ve never had this with anyone else. Never felt this good with anyone but you.”

“Oh?” He asked, eyebrows raising as he adjusted himself in his pants. “And what do you mean by that, my fair maiden?”

What did you mean by that? Shit. 

You moved back from the sink, thoughtful and worrying at the words that’d just spilled from your lips. Meanwhile, you swiped the same washcloth across your mouth he’d used to wipe his. Didn’t bother you at all.

Your steps led you to sitting on the toilet seat.

As the cold, ceramic lid touched your bare ass, you realized. . . It felt completely natural and right to use the same damn towel, too. Fuck. 

Why did everything feel so right? So natural? This hadn’t even been going on long enough for that. You’d only met him a couple of months ago, for God’s sake. 

And all this arrangement really was, was just two roommates who liked to fuck. . . If you could go so far, you’d even say two friends who liked to fuck who also happened to live together. 

That was why you felt good. Because of the incredible sex. . . Right?!

As he went about washing his hands, you clutched the small towel in your hands. You squeezed it so tight, your knuckles turned white. But you had to hold onto something. You weren’t sure what you were feeling and it stressed you the fuck out. 

Though before your mind could spiral any further, the sink was shutting off and Jake was placing his freshly dried hands on your bare legs, slowly coming to squat in front of you. The way his purposeful hands squeezed right above your knees in reassurance, it made your nipples peak beneath the t-shirt you wore. 

You were wearing one of his t-shirts. Truly enveloped by all things Jake. On theme with the whole damn morning. 

Fuck. 

“Y/n,” Jake began, your lost stare snapping to him. He was suddenly eye-level with you. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were concerned. “What’s going through that pretty head, baby?”

I don’t know. I don’t fucking know, you mentally responded, worriedly. I’m feeling too much and that’s dangerous. 

“Nothing,” you responded, your voice faltering just enough to make him raise a brow. You cleared your throat, sitting up straighter in front of him. Avoid avoid avoid. You were just overthinking. That was all. “Seriously.” 

With a glance at the shower, you got an idea. 

Perfect distraction. Imagining it already had you shivering with want. 

“You know. . . We haven’t christened the shower yet,” you proposed, looking at him from the corner of your eye. 

His mouth was slightly ajar, having been about to say something. 

Just ignore me, Jake, you pleaded internally. Let it go. 

He wasn’t wavering. His gaze was heavier than normal, trapping you in the moment with him. Wanted you to confess to more emotion. But you decided you needed him to meet you where you were. . . now. Needed him to drop this. 

It didn’t matter.

So, you moved forward to sweetly kiss his lips. His lips, ever so soft against yours. The kiss started innocently enough, but you’d been intentional with it, helping you to deepen it seamlessly. 

Your body opened up to him, your knees parting to welcome him between them. His hands moved up naturally, going to grasp your hips in a strong grip. You moved forward just enough that your core touched his midsection. 

The groan that blossomed from deep in his throat was enough to make your panties dampen. Your change in position caused him to graze his hands up your sides. His calloused thumbs brushed across your tight nipples. You breathed a needy moan, pushing yourself into him. 

Still kissing you and going to fully massage your left breast, he removed the other hand from you to reach over to the shower curtain, yanking it open in one take. The sound of the metal curtain rod interacting with the metal hangers made your clit twitch with desperation. Yes.

When he pulled away from you, his lips were so swollen and pink, freshly kissed. You could’ve cried at the loss of contact, and the way his hungry eyes drank you in. But before long, his gaze moved from you to the shower handle, turning it on with one sure twist.  

As the water heated up, he stood and started stripping himself of his own t-shirt, removed his pajama pants. His thick cock sprang freely from the waistline of them, causing your mouth to fill with saliva. You needed him on your tongue.

Swallowing in anticipation, you began to take off your own shirt. Your eyes trailed up his torso to his face. When you looked up to observe him, he was combing one hand through the front of his hair, tousling it as his eyes stayed on you. 

You felt your warm, bare skin hit the cool yet humid air of the bathroom, watched him as he slowly rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip. A smirk dragged across his full lips. 

Watching as a dimple dipped his cheek, you rose from your position on the ceramic seat. And as you made quick work of your underwear, kicking them to the side, he didn’t move. The tip of his thumb stayed on his bottom lip, his smirk becoming secretive in a way that wasn’t mischievous. 

It was secretive in a way that confused the hell out of you. The look that spread from his dark eyes, all the way down to his mouth. . . it made your skin heat with an unnamed emotion. 

It only took a few seconds of standing naked in front of him to feel the pull to walk to him. After a couple of steps, you met him, wrapping your arms around his waist. With your naked fronts touching one another so intimately, his hands found your face, thumbs delicately tracing your cheekbones. 

“I’ve never felt this good before, either,” he said, voice toned down just for you to hear, against the  rush of water in the shower to your right. “This is. . . more than anything I’ve ever experienced. All because of you.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

The nerves dissipated a bit as you observed the perky, pretty blonde tech who walked you to the back. She was a good distraction with her high, swaying blonde ponytail and chipper attitude. 

The first thing she did was send you to pee in a cup with your name on it, to check your sugar and protein levels. Then, as you made your way to the bathroom, she also told you that she was going to weigh you when you came out. 

“And after all of that, I’ll be able to take you to the exam room,” she explained, high-pitched and waving her hands around as if she was a cheerleader. “Yay!”

So, after peeing in a cup and placing it in a window to get checked, you took off your bag and shoes to step onto the old school scale. The mechanism squeaked, showing its age, as you adjusted awkwardly on it to get weighed. Oh, the sacred scale. . . Every woman’s favorite part of a doctor appointment, right? 

Though, your favorite part of the entire experience was the way she was obviously undressing Jake with her eyes as you stood on the scale. Her now-extremely flirty tone as she spoke with him made you want to roll your eyes all the way into the back of your skull. 

The woman wasn’t paying you, the patient, any sort of proper attention. You were convinced she hadn’t even noticed you coming out of the bathroom from peeing in the blessed cup. 

No, instead, she seemed to be solely focused on getting a healthy dose of Jake as you stood and waited on her to notice you. Real cute and professional. 

To your relief, it seemed Jake didn’t notice her flirting. . . or just didn’t care that she was being flirtatious. He appeared to be disassociating from her behavior so he didn’t notice you waiting. He was trying his damndest to keep friendly conversation with her, much like Josh would do (although, you took note of how Jake was quite toned down in comparison to his twin). It seemed difficult for him, though, with how tuned out of it he was.

You really loved listening to Jake talk. You could spend endless hours listening to him ramble on. What you didn’t love was watching the little tech’s eyes trained on his face, the way she bit her lip as her eyes twinkled. She watched him so damn carefully with every word (not many, mind you) he spoke, as she ignored you. 

It was not about to be on you to weigh yourself. And you weren’t about to stand on the scale for a second longer. You weren’t here for Little Miss Blondie with a Body to drool over Jake. It was especially grating to watch as you stood on a fucking scale with a bigger number than you were used to seeing, glaring back at you. 

To put it simply: you were already feeling fat thanks to the unavoidable body changes, you didn’t need to feel vastly unimportant right now either. You could only take so much vulnerability in this state. Clearing your throat with plain annoyance evident on your face, you waited for her to get the fucking clue as you continued to stand pointlessly on the scale. 

“Oh my god, yes!” She squealed. “Silly me. I’m supposed to be getting your weight, aren’t I, hun?” The tech gave Jake a little embarrassed smile that he didn’t see, his eyes instantly coming to set on you. 

He didn’t notice her tiny, ‘pick me’ grin, as he was already walking over to check on you. She was left to trail behind him, still going on about how ‘silly’ she was. Dear God.

“Don’t call me hun,” you replied sharply, done with her little cutesy act. “Pretty sure you’re the same age as me or younger. So, please. Stop that shit.” 

Jake snorted a laugh at your attitude. A hand covered his mouth inconspicuously, fingers tapping against his lips that held a humored grin. Watching her with squinted eyes was all you did as she adjusted the pieces to figure out your weight. And finally, she wrote down your numbers on her chart. 

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, backing up as if burned by your vicinity to her. “I, um, think we’re good to go to the exam room now.” 

After stepping off the scale, you smoothed your sweater, slipped on your white Chucks, and grabbed your belt bag from the table beside the scale. You gave a side eyed glance to Jake, who was waiting on you and watching you with a little sparkle in his eye. He was amused. And at that, you had to smile a little, too. You even offered him a little wink before looking ahead to where the tech stood, waiting to lead you to the exam room.

When you looked forward and saw the pretty blonde a few steps ahead of you, you caught eyes with her. She now looked slightly dejected after the minuscule exchange between you and Jake, that she’d apparently witnessed. Her eyes fluttered down when you looked at her. 

Dear Lord, girl, he’s literally here with a woman carrying his child, you reasoned for her silently, scoffing internally at the tinge of disappointment on her fairy-like features. Have some sense; he’s probably not at a fucking OBGYN office to find a girlfriend.

Not that you were his girlfriend. . . A very upsetting truth. But she didn’t have to know that. 

“Well,” you tried, voice a little lighter with sympathy for her. You understood. . . He was a catch. A handsome catch that you couldn’t have, either. “I think that sounds great. Let’s get a look at the baby, hm?”

At your encouraging smile, she seemed to perk up a bit and even turned with a little pep back in her step to lead you further to a room.

But you didn’t notice much more than that as Jake came up to walk in step next to you, resting a hand at the base of your back. His gesture worked very well at distracting you and dissipating your irritable nerves. 

Fearful of ruining the moment, you kept your eyes forward and walked in good enough time to stay in line with him. Losing his touch was the last thing you wanted.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thankfully, the tech didn’t stay in the room for long. She checked your blood pressure and other vital signs quickly as you sat on the exam chair, legs dangling.

But, you noticed she lingered on your heart for a while. . . She took her time to check on that. The excessive time spent on observing your heart health helped you to know that your chart had definitely been updated since your ER stint. 

Eventually, she was done and you were able to breathe easier. She made you nearly gag once more when she bounced out of the room, offering a dainty wave and a sugary fuckin’ sweet ‘bye, bye’ (mostly directed towards Jake, of course). 

“Good God,” you groaned, soothing the wrinkles on your forehead with a stiff hand. “She had a little crush,” you commented with a smirk, still trying to mask just how annoyed you truly were. “A lot like Kaia. You’re a damn babe magnet to all these poor women who can’t have you.” 

And don’t I fucking know it, you grumbled internally. Want you and can’t have you.

Jake just sat back in his seat and rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore your jest. But then he leveled you with a contemplative stare, brows furrowed. “Speaking of babe magnets. . . Are you still talking to that guy? Study Buddy?”

Oh shit. How did you even begin to approach that? Were you talking to Theo? Not regularly, by any means. . . But he was always sitting on the back burner in your mind. You made a mental note to reach out to the jock at some point.

Theo sat on that back burner as you waited to make your next move. You still needed to execute your plan of distracting yourself from Jake. It felt necessary. If you were with someone else, it put a  blocker up to prove to yourself that you could be fine with Jake being with someone else. The more time went by, the more ridiculous it sounded. . . But you still wanted to roll with it. 

So, you answered as though you were doing such. 

“Yeah, actually,” you half-lied, looking down to pull your sweater over your hands. Nervous habit. “I actually need to reach out to him and plan our next date.”

“Study Buddy isn’t reaching out to you to do that?” Jake scoffed. “He’s a fucking catch, y/n.”

You imagined him shaking his head in disbelief. And when you looked up, he was doing just that as he crossed his legs. Then, his arms over his chest. But he had no room to judge. One, it wasn’t his business. And two, you just didn’t want him judging. Wanted him to just fuck off with the subject. You didn’t want to think about stupid ass Theo and dates right now. Didn’t want to agree with Jake that yes, Theo wasn’t the best catch. You knew that. But you didn’t want to talk about that with Jake of all people.

So, you backfired. 

“His name is Theo, Jake. Quit calling him Study Buddy,” you rolled your eyes at the ridiculous nickname he’d started that night so long ago. Theo, in your bedroom waiting on you as Jake had you wrapped around him in the bathroom. “The nickname is stupid. Makes you sound jealous. And I know you’re not.”

“And if I am?”

Don’t say that. 

“You have a girlfriend, Jake. A fucking perfect one at that. You shouldn’t be jealous of another man in my life when she is as perfect as she is,” you tried to reason, but the compliment had you near gagging. You were just in complete shock. Why was he being like this? It was confusing the hell out of you. 

“Why are you implying that you’re not—?” Jake started, cutting himself off. He rolled his eyes, ruffling the front of his hair while leaning forward, then back again in his seat. “Fuck, y/n. I know I shouldn’t be. Of course I know that. I can’t fucking control it,” he gruffly stated, running a hand through his hair as his other hand gripped the opposite bicep. His black boot tapped the ground, semi-anxiously for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

When he opened his eyes, he was crossing his arms again, biceps still distracting you as his hands gripped them so tightly through his button down. His voice had calmed down to near-normal next time he spoke. “Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like imagining you. . . with him. I don’t like imagining you like that with any other man. Much less a fucking prick on a football scholarship. By the way—seriously, y/n? Football?”

“How do you know he has a football scholarship?” You questioned, avoiding the glaring topic at hand. Avoid, avoid, avoid. He simply couldn’t be jealous if you choose to not acknowledge it.

“Context clues. He’s always wearing that fuckin’ Pratt football shit. Shorts, shirts, sweats, hats. . . Fuck.” He rolled his eyes once again. When he looked at you again, his eyes became deeper, showing he was earnest in what he had to say. “You can do better, y/n. Could get anyone you want. As much as I don’t want to see you with anyone, you can still do better than—.”

You were steaming angry. Because he was wrong. You couldn’t get anyone you wanted. The only one you wanted was completely unattainable. Minor recent hiccups in the kitchen and car aside. You knew he wasn’t a possibility anymore. How dare he put you on the spot like this?! Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Goddammit, Jake! Stop!” You snapped, no longer listening and cutting him off. “You’re in a relationship. You lost the right to counsel my dating choices the moment you started dating someone else.”

Someone else. . . As if he’d ever actually dated you. 

And you’re the one who initially let him go, y/n, a serene voice reminded you. Sounded too much like something your damn sister would say. Don’t forget he didn’t want anyone else. You forced him into it.

Not. The. Fucking. Point. You refused to hear the sense of that at this moment.

“I don’t want your opinions on any man I bring into my life. Not your place. I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it,” you argued, pushing the sleeves of your sweater up, suddenly feeling very warm with emotion. He made you so damn angry. “Keep them to yourself. Never once have I judged you for being with Maya. And I’m the one carrying your baby — having to watch you—. Dammit.” You felt hot tears growing in your eyes and swelling in your throat. Fuck. Not now. 

And still, against your will, you felt a stray tear drop to your cheek. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake drop his hands and stand up, already making his way to you. “Y/n—.”

You turned your head from him, telling him you didn’t want him to try to comfort you. You were angry. And hurt. (And truly wanted him to hold you so badly you couldn’t stand it.)

With a sniffle, you kept on, saying things you definitely shouldn’t have been saying as you kept eyes on the light pink vinyl of the exam chair. “For the past several months, I have had to think about you fucking her and bringing her around. And having to think about that shit while I have a baby inside of me that we made together?” You paused, making sure to emphasize that point to him. Because it truly sucked ass to have to experience Jake and Maya anyway, but while pregnant with his kid? 

“So you have no fucking right to bring up who I’m seeing. Not your damn business, Jake. And Theo has done nothing but show that he’s a good man. I haven’t ever judged Maya, because she’s a good person,” (slight lie — you’d definitely judged her, but whatever). “So don’t you dare start with all of the jealousy and shit. I, the overly hormonal one, have sucked it up, so you can, too.”

He was closer now, standing right next to you. You could smell his enticing cologne and could feel his presence. Almost touching you, but not quite. He seemed scared to make a move. Good. 

But, really, not good at all. You wanted him close. Whether it was close enough to hug him or slap him, you weren’t sure. Probably more the former, which had you wanting to slap yourself. You were supposed to be mad. But the two more tears that sadly trailed down your cheeks and onto the exam table proved to you that you were mostly just. . . Heartbroken. Plain old heartbroken over not having him. 

“Y/n. . .,” Jake tried again, coming just close enough that his thighs touched your knees, bent to hang off the table. And then his hands were coming to sit on the very end of your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh through your pants. “Can you look at me?”

You huffed, irritated more with yourself than anyone. But you wanted to blame it on him as much as you could, so you honored his wish and your eyes floated up from the table. Wanted to really make him feel bad.

But, when you found his beautiful brown eyes giving you a sympathetic look, you tried to glare. . . Though, you knew you looked more broken and slightly (very) pathetic. Stupid.

“What, Jake?” You sniffled, one more tear betraying you, trickling down your cheek. 

But before the tear could make it to your jaw like the others, Jake was reaching out to stop it. His thumb swiped gently at the soft skin of your cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, desperate for you to believe him. His eyes searched yours, which stared blankly back at him. “Y/n, I. . . I—.”

The knock on the door was enough to make the two of you part, Jake even moving back a couple steps. You readjusted yourself on the table, stretching your legs out on it, sitting up in the chair. Tucking the heel of your hand into the sleeve of your sweater, you wiped carefully under both of your eyes as the doctor entered. 

“Hello, hello! How’re we feelin’ today, Mama?” You heard Dr. Rose before you looked over at her. When you did, you first saw her beautiful naturally black hair done in a half-up, half-down. It looked sloppy and intentionally styled all at once.

And, of course, her bright smile showed immediately as she looked over at you. Her bright red lipstick, making her entire look pop, right along with those mid-century-esque black-rimmed glasses. The smile that tugged at your lips was effortless as you engaged in her soothing aura. 

“Feeling good, Dr. Rose,” you responded, keeping your eyes on her back as she prepped the equipment. Jake had chosen a vantage point, leaning against the wall next to your chair. “What about you? How’s life been treating you?”

She looked over at you, momentarily paused with a slightly surprised look on her face. But she recovered quickly with a response. “Y/n, you are just too darn precious. Clients rarely ask me how I’m doin’. Means a lot, babygirl,” she grinned, turning on the monitor. After washing her hands, she grabbed a pair of plastic gloves from the box of them hung on the wall. “As a matter ‘a fact, I’m doin’ great, honeybun. And I can’t wait to see what’s goin’ on with your sweet baby. You feelin’ any better since that visit to the hospital?”

The blush that painted your cheeks at the mention of your visit was unstoppable. Why the hospital escapade embarrassed you, you weren’t sure. It shouldn’t, but it did. Just. . . kind of made you feel weak.

“Y-yes,” you coughed to clear any discomfort from your tone. “I’m just glad we were able to start figuring a few things out that night.”

Dr. Rose hummed in response, motioning you to lay back. And, so you did, as she reclined the seat backwards for you as much as she deemed necessary. Not too far back, leaving you with a really nice view of the screen.

Jake moved slightly, you caught it from the corner of your vision. And you couldn’t stop your eyes from flitting over to him. His eyes, laser-focused on everything happening in the room. And, as if he could sense it, his eyes found yours as you watched his expression change from one of wonder to his own bit of embarrassment that you’d been watching him. 

Or so you assumed that’s why his cheeks flushed. Neither of you cared to tear your eyes away from the other, your gazes locked as Dr. Rose went about her business. Though, when the doctor cleared her throat, both sets of eyes shot over to her quickly, as if you’d been caught. 

You noticed the equipment was ready to go, the monitor completely on as Dr. Rose kept a hand on the transducer, waiting patiently with a smile on her face, ready to begin. 

“I’m also relieved you’ve started findin’ some answers, sweetie pie. Your chart has been updated, thanks to the hospital’s communication with us,” she mentioned, placing a fist on her hip as she stood waiting to start. “So, if you don’t want to, you won’t have to give me any details. But if you want to fill me in on anything,” she dragged the word want out in her Southern twang. “I’m all ears, honey bug.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, the grin lopsided and easy. But your jitters to begin the ultrasound were at the forefront of your mind. “I’m just excited to see the baby.”

“Well, then. I’m excited, too. Let’s do it,” she assured, but just as she picked the instrument up, she put it back. “You know what–I almost forgot the darn jelly! Silly me,” Dr. Rose laughed quietly to herself, shaking her head as deep dimples pierced her cheeks. “While, I grab it, though. . . wanna introduce me to our newbie?” Her eyes shot over to Jake, as she opened a cabinet, turning towards you, her brow raising with a secret grin, aimed at you. 

Your tummy flipped at the realization that you’d, once again, be introducing Jake as the baby’s father. You quickly glanced over at him, and when you did he was already watching you. The way your lips curved up with an unnamed emotion was quick and of its own volition. His expression seemed to match yours.

“This is Jake,” you answered her, with your eyes still on him. But just as soon, you glanced over to her to finish your statement. “He’s the other half of the baby.”

“Oh yes,” the doctor nodded slowly, taking it in. “I remember you mentionin’ him on the phone,” she remarked before momentarily giving him her full attention. A million-dollar smile lit up her features as she stripped her gloves, throwing them away. Stepping forward a few steps, her stilettos clicked against the linoleum before she outstretched her hand to greet him. “Happy to have ya, Jake. Hope to see you at more appointments to come. Were ya busy for our first?” 

She didn’t sound judgemental at all. But the idea of him not being there for the very first appointment made guilt bubble up in you again for not telling him sooner. 

You felt the need to admit to her your mistake of not having told him yet. “He didn’t kn—.”

“Yeah,” he responded quickly, cutting you off. Your eyes flitted over to him. The smile on his face reassured you, a little grin being thrown your way before he addressed her again. “I've been working a couple of different jobs that were holding me up that day,” he covered with a lie. “Worst timing ever and couldn’t get out of it.”

His sincere eyes traveled to you for a second, seemingly letting you know you shouldn’t feel bad. He knew you. A tiny grin found your features at his attempt to make you feel better. His eyes were back on her before you could give him a bigger smile.

“I hated that I couldn’t be here,” he continued, voice faltering as he covered his mouth with a fist. He cleared his throat. The small grin you’d been wearing fell from your face. 

He shook his head and then moved his fist to wave off his words, though, still only looking at the doctor. He hadn’t seen your reaction to his words. “However, my twin got to come in my place, so that’s gotta count for something, right?” 

As Dr. Rose and Jake shared a laugh over a few more words exchanged about identical twins and ‘so-called telepathy’, you couldn’t help but feel a twist in your gut. You knew he was telling the truth that he hated that he hadn’t been able to be there. He could reassure you all day long, and you knew he wasn’t holding it over your head. . . That wasn’t who Jake was.

But. . . It didn’t change the fact that he’d still missed that first appointment and the first chance to see the baby you’d created together. All because you’d been so concerned to keep a secret. A secret he’d absolutely deserved to be privy to. 

“Well then,” Dr. Rose cut in, clapping her hands. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

You gnawed at your lip, chancing a look at Jake. He was waiting for you, sending a private wink as the doctor had turned her back. He shook his head. “It’s okay,” he mouthed the words, arms crossing once more over his chest as he came to stand closer to you.

You blushed; he knew. 

Dr. Rose was washing her hands as he continued to move nearer to you. He stopped once he was leaning against the exam chair, laying an arm against the back of it. Your eyes were glued to every action of his. The way his shirt raised the slightest bit when he stretched his arm out behind you, showing the bottom of his firm stomach. The exposed tanned skin, tempting you with how close he was to you. 

Not to mention, with his arm behind you, you felt deliciously surrounded by him. And you got the most incredible whiff of his cologne. Amber, sandalwood, suede. . . Made you feel so warm and secure.

You didn’t even realize you were staring at his abdomen until the doctor cleared her throat. Caught again. Your cheeks heated. Dammit! What in the hell? Weren’t you just mad at him?

“So, you two. . .,” Dr. Rose spoke, bringing your eyes to her. She was just finishing with washing her hands, drying them on a stiff, white paper towel that she quickly deposited into the trash. “I always have to ask— what are we hopin’ for? Boy or girl?”

She browsed the cabinet farthest left, locating the jelly with no trouble at all, obviously, and placed the tube on the counter before pulling on another pair of gloves. 

“Um,” you started, leaning on your elbows, sitting up a bit to give an answer. “As long as the baby is healthy. . . that’s all I care about.”

Dr. Rose made a noise of acknowledgement, but she flashed you a look. “Not the first time I’ve heard that one,” she winked at you, swiping the jelly from the counter on her way back to you. “But what if I told you you got to pick. I feel like everyone has just a bit of a preference.”

Wrinkling a brow, you thought about it for a second. You honestly didn’t have a preference. All you cared about was the baby having Jake’s eyes and smile (and every other feature of his, if possible). Was that something you could say out loud? 

“I know what I’d want,” Jake chimed in from behind you, still leaning against the back of the chair. 

You peeked at him over your shoulder, hair flipping in the process. For some reason, the action made you feel pretty. And when Jake caught your eye briefly, you saw his lips lift a bit more. His expression was soft as he observed you. 

He was looking at you, but addressing Dr. Rose when he spoke next. “I’ve told y/n the entire reason, but I won’t get into it right now for time’s sake,” he began, hip leaning into the chair enough that he touched your arm. He was right there with you. And you liked it that way. “I just know if I could have my pick for the first one, I’d say a girl would be fun. But, y/n is right. . . All I really care about is if the baby is doing okay in every way possible.”

First one. . . Again, referring to more than one child. You eyed him curiously for a moment, making his eyebrows scrunch in response — as if he were asking ‘what?’. But you just shook your head in response.

“Well, alrighty then,” the doctor responded. 

Both of you looked over to her, and you saw her lifting a brow before she flashed her perfect teeth towards the two of you. Her signature red lipstick, an assurance of some weird sort. You barely knew the woman, but she just made you feel good. Then, after uncapping the ultrasound gel, she aimed it above your tummy. “And I just want to make completely sure – you are wanting to find out the gender today?”

Without even looking at one another, you both simultaneously answered. “Yes.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she responded warmly, winking towards the two of you before taking her spot next to you and the machine. “Lean back and lift your shirt for me, babygirl. And, Jake, if you don’t mind switchin’ off those lights, sweetie. I like to have ‘em off for the gender reveal.”

You both did as you were told, but as soon as your bare tummy felt the cool air of the room, you realized. . . This would be the first time for Jake to see your round belly without anything to cover it. In the dark, mind you. But still. . . 

Though, at the prospect of him seeing your naked belly, you weren’t nervous. Not at all, actually. . . it just made you feel all jittery and excited. Then, without any warning (you’d done it before, so she needn’t warn you), she was squeezing the gel onto your stomach.

Just like before, it wasn’t as cold as you’d expect. No, it was still warmer than movies might try to convince you. You felt nerves wrap around you, just like last time, as soon as she lifted the transducer from its spot. Suddenly, you worried that the baby wasn’t going to be okay. That the heartbeat wouldn’t be thumping like last time. . . . That the screen would have sad news rather than happy.

You lifted one hand to your chest, to cover your heart monitor – just waiting for the phone to go off in your belt bag. The anxiety was making your head spin and she hadn’t even touched the transducer to your stomach yet. Your mind was literally going a mile a minute – the heart under your palm, daring to go just as fast.

Then, you felt a familiar hand come down to touch your other hand – the one still laying at your side, nearest him. And when you looked up, two Amber-brown irises met yours in the dark, silently consoling you. The monitor lit up the room just enough for you to see him mouth something towards you. Your skin warmed at the feeling of him being so sensitive towards you. 

“Everything will be okay,” he silently assured, mouth moving just right for you to pick up the words. 

At his words, tears threatened to spill. You couldn’t completely conceal the emotion as one tear slid down your cheek. You didn’t care too much, though – just reached further for his hand, wanting to fully grasp it. Eyes still holding his, you didn’t worry about any repercussions. Considering, there was definitely much worse you’d done than holding his damn hand. The Jeep. The kitchen. 

But right now, you desperately needed someone – needed him. And this was how you needed him. It took no time at all for him to lace his fingers through yours. And it was the most euphoric feeling you could think of at that moment. Holding his hand was making your heart melt in your chest, and the way it soothed you was unlike anything else. Your palms comfortably met, at the same time you felt your heart slow down and your breaths become a tad more even.

When you were safely holding onto him, you felt brave enough to look at the screen. It was awaiting you, just like Dr. Rose. When you made eye contact with her, she was watching you with care. 

“It’s goin’ to be okay, sweetheart,” she reassured you, accent thick. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you gasped, before sniffling once and shaking your head out to rid yourself of the worries. 

Jake squeezed your hand a little tighter. You did the same back. It was heaven. And next thing you knew, the wand was touching your tummy, connecting with the jelly. And as she moved the device over your stomach, she pressed in just a little. But it all felt seamless and gentle with the smoothness of the gel. It was an odd feeling, but nice all the same. 

You were feeling hopeful. It’s going to be okay. The screen lit up with the gray static and the black spot in the middle of it all, that showed the inside of your tummy.

And, as Dr. Rose adjusted the transducer just a little more, pushing just so against your tummy, you started seeing your baby. Right there, in front of you, you started seeing little pieces of your baby’s body. What you saw on the screen was unparalleled. The tiny, exquisite, flawless human. . .

“Would ya look at that!” Dr. Rose exclaimed, her tone doing very little to mask how enthusiastic she was to see what she saw on her screen. “Those arms and legs are lookin’ beautiful. Perfect in length on both of  ‘em.”

She checked a few more things, moving the instrument around on your abdomen a fairly decent amount. Then, as she took a few pictures and drew a few lines on the baby, she mentioned the essentials. Size of the baby. The position of the baby and placenta. The umbilical cord’s normality. And, finally, the amount of amniotic fluid. You heard the entirety of what she took notes on, but you only listened to what you needed to as you continued to watch the love of your life move around in your womb. Your eyes were glued to the moving wonder inside of you.

“Everything seems absolutely exemplary from what I can tell,” Dr. Rose encouraged, from her spot, where she stood at the machine. She clicked a few buttons as you continued to watch the screen in amazement.

Your eyes drew tears and you felt Jake’s hand wrap even tighter to yours. His thumb gave gentle circles to the back of your hand, catching your attention. But when you looked up at him to see if he needed you, he was mesmerized by the screen. You knew there was no taking his eyes from the monitor. And you didn’t want to. 

In fact, your own eyes instantly sought out the screen again when you knew he didn’t need you. You could watch the happenings on the screen for hours on end, the way the baby seemed to move around in your womb. 

“You’ve got a very active little one,” your doctor giggled, moving the instrument around a bit on your tummy. The little circles she made with the transducer at the bottom of your tummy gave you a perfect view of your baby’s movements. 

The way your heart pressed to your chest was unlike any other emotion you’d ever had. The only thing comparable to the feeling you had at this moment was how you felt to see the little bean alive in you the first time. You knew for a fact that the way Jake was feeling right now was unique to anything else he’d ever experienced. You’d been just as transfixed your first time. But, watching your baby, bigger then before, do a little womb dance on the screen was. . . even more exciting. So, truly, you knew Jake was feeling the full range of positive emotions. 

“Are babies always this active?” You laughed, tears pricking at your tear ducts at the wiggle worm on the screen. The wetness sat in your eyes, blurring your vision until you blinked, a couple falling down the side of your face. 

“The happiest, healthiest ones give ya more of a jig,” Dr. Rose noted with pride in her tone. “That means your little one is living a satisfactory life already. You’re taking proper care of your little angel.” 

Suddenly, you felt a tear hit the top of your hand. And when you looked up, you saw Jake’s eyes doing the same thing as yours. In steady time, you saw at least four tears trickle down his cheeks. His other hand was laid across his mouth in astonishment before he took the same hand and brushed it through the front of his hair. 

With a sniff, he pulled his eyes from the screen for the first time and looked down at you, removing his hand from his mouth. His eyes were full of something akin to adoration, a shaky, close-mouthed smile on his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his expression and you gave him the same one back. 

“Thank you for taking care of our baby so well,” he said, voice raspy with emotion. With a sniffle, he wiped under his eyes with his free hand. “You are already the most incredible mom. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”

You couldn’t stop the few tears that leaked from your eyes onto the chair. Those were undoubtedly words you would cherish for a long, long time. You could feel those words slide right into your heart from his lips. 

There was nothing more you could say to that other than three of the truest words you’d ever spoken. “She’s worth it.”

She? Now you were referring to it as a girl. And, in that moment, you realized how very ready you were to know.

“Oh, now. . . it seems Mama might be leanin’ towards a girl, hm?” Dr. Rose cut in, making your eyes float from Jake to her and then immediately back to the screen. Your beautiful, bouncing baby. . . Yours and Jake’s. Together. 

Your eyes continued to follow every single movement of your baby’s when you asked her your next question. “I know it’s stupid to ask because the baby’s mov–.”

“Nothin’ is stupid to ask in here, babygirl,” Dr. Rose reassured you. “This is your baby. Every question is an important one.”

“Thanks,” you said with a gentle smile, pausing your mesmerization for a second to look at your kind doctor. She was holding the instrument to your tummy, but had paused with her eyes waiting for your question. “Is–is the heartbeat normal? Are we going to be able to hear it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she adamantly agreed. “It’s time for me to hear it and note it anyhow.” Then, her wide, deep brown eyes looked over at Jake and your line of sight followed. “Ya ready to hear that heartbeat for the first time, daddy?”

Daddy. 

“Oh hell yeah,” he said, voice still wet with emotion, zero hesitation in the answer. 

He cleared his throat as the doctor clicked a button and instantly, you heard it. Clear as day. The steady whooshing thump of your baby’s heart rang through the room. It was enough to make you clasp your free hand to your mouth and grab Jake’s hand a little tighter. 

Surprisingly, the tears didn’t fall, but you felt them bubble up in your throat. However, you felt a couple more tears from above you, hitting the top of your hand. 

“Let’s zoom in here,” Dr. Rose encouraged, clicking a few more times to see the baby’s image become even bigger. And when she did, you saw it. The little flickering of the baby’s heart in its chest. “Healthy, healthy heart in this little one. We’re gettin’ about 144 beats per minute. And that’s what I like to call ideal.”

You could have sung a thousand praises for your child, but you didn’t. Instead, you looked up to see Jake’s reaction. And this time, he felt your stare and slowly turned his head to find your eyes, welling with tears. Just like his. It was a moment straight out of a dream. The baby’s heartbeat, echoing throughout the room; Jake’s hand gripping yours with undeniable reliability and comfort; and your eyes, matching one another’s deep level of trust and admiration. 

In that moment, you felt the most connected to him you could’ve ever felt. The screen fulfilled every wish you could imagine, a healthy baby you’d made together – equally and perfectly – him and you. You wanted to trap this moment in time and never, ever leave it.

“Y’all ready to know that gender?” Dr. Rose questioned, a little thrill in her tone. 

The two of you looked over at her after a few more quiet moments of gazing towards one another. “Yes,” you both said, once again, in unison. 

With a smile that seemed to fill half of her face, she nodded. “Alright. You’re going to hear the heartbeat stop, but it just means I turned the sound off. It doesn’t mean anythin’ is wrong with your little babe.”

“Okay,” you readily responded with a warm smile, your heart racing at the prospect of knowing if your baby was a boy or girl. 

In seconds it seemed, the transducer made a few magic moves after she’d clicked the sound of the heartbeat off. Because, suddenly, she’d found a spot that she paused the screen on to take a picture. And, after getting a few more angles of the same spot on the baby, she told you. 

“Looks like Daddy is a little psychic,” Dr. Rose noted with a wink towards Jake, her knowing smirk made your lips widen. No way. “You two are havin’ a girl.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were on your way home from the appointment when Josh called Jake. 

The groan you and Jake released was nearly identical. The two of you, having just stared at the Apple CarPlay screen for the first couple of rings. As rude as it may have seemed, you didn’t want to answer. Because, even though you loved Josh, now was not the time you necessarily wanted to talk to him. 

He’d completely interrupted you and Jake recounting almost every detail of the baby. But, when you did hesitantly answer, the curly headed twin was demanding that your little group get together for a night of ‘revelry and good laughs’. And, thankfully, having been in the Jetta, you’d gotten to partake in the twins’ conversation. 

“Plus, Sam could really use some time with the whole group. It’s been a tough week for the little guy,” Josh tacked onto the end, stopping for emphasis. 

The handsome, long haired twin didn’t answer his curly headed counterpart’s request. Instead, he looked over at you with a look that said ‘it’s up to you.’ So, you took control answering all of the questions that Josh asked, Jake gladly letting you take the floor.

“That’s doable,” you paused. “And ‘Little Guy’? Josh, Sam easily has like three or four inches on you, babe.”

“He will always be little. I am older, therefore he is little. Rules are rules,” Josh snarked back, ticking his tongue. “Jake, how do you feel about this woman’s accusations? Being the same height as me and all. . .”

“I’m not the same height as you,” Jake argued, turning on the blinker to exit off the highway. 

“You have an inch on me at best, fucker. That’s nothing,” Josh reasoned, his scoff being heard through the speaker. “Y/n, what are your thoughts on Jake being a snarky ass?”

It took you no time to join in on the jesting. You were enjoying it enough that being part of it sounded even more fun.

“Jake is easily bigger than you, Josh,” you remarked, sending a smirk in Jake’s direction. Jake glanced your way with a wink that made your cheeks go warm and pink. “As is Samuel.”

“Y/n,” Josh started with a gasp, put-on horror in his tone. He was obviously enjoying this, too. “I'm asking about Jake’s height, not his size.”

“Josh!” Jake interrupted before he could say anything further, swerving a little as both of you sat in semi-shock. 

All that ran through your mind was how bold it was for Josh to make a statement like that. . . He was still relatively new to knowing about you knowing about Jake’s — as he put it — size. But. . . the more you thought about it and let Jake chew him out over the phone, the more you realized, it would’ve been like this if Josh had known before. Because, well, it was Josh. 

And nothing was too taboo for Josh Kiszka to discuss. Including the size of his twin’s dick, apparently. 

“Josh,” you started, stopping his rant from the other end of the call. The huff you heard from Jake’s nostrils and the way his skin had become a shade of light red made you regret getting lost in thought. It had made you miss out on something that had Jake blushing hardcore.

Hm. Jake, angry and blushing. It made your own face feel hot and your nipples press a little harder against your bra. You crossed your legs, giving Jake one more side-eye. Fuck, he was so hot. His lips pursed as he tousled a hand through his hair. You crossed your arms over your breasts, creating some sort of pressure to avoid any uncomfortability for the duration of the drive. 

Damn hormones.

You shook your head, remembering you had something to say, facing the road as Jake stopped a little too late at a stop sign. What had Josh said? “Josh. I have only ever seen one of you in that way, so your remark doesn’t even make sense,” you said your piece, giving one more quick look at Jake before your next words. He was still trying to drive straight, lips tightly together. “And I think I can make a good assumption that Jake is bigger anyway.”

“Y/n!” the twins said in tandem, tones worlds different. Josh, praising your grit and Jake, completely startled at the statement. Jake’s face reddened further and he once again ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t necessarily seem upset. Not at all, really, just. . . Flustered and frustrated. 

Hm. . . 

“Now that y/n has completely flabbergasted us both,” Josh started from the other end almost immediately (thankfully avoiding any awkward silence), “Let’s get back to planning. Good on you, y/n. I quite like the boldness. It suits you.”

If only you knew how bold I’d been recently, Joshua. . ., you thought, mind going directly to the night in the Jeep.

You looked over at Jake once more before getting into the planning. For a second, you really worried you’d made him angry. A trauma response of yours, one might say. But, when you regarded him once more, you caught him. 

He’d stopped at another stop sign, and had his eyes glued to your body. In fact, he was so entranced by you that he didn’t even notice you looking at him. His eyes traveled between your breasts and legs. Your clenched thighs, which squeezed together of their own accord at his attention. His stare was fire on your skin. Felt it everywhere. Your arms crossed tighter to your chest, needing more of his attention than his eyes.

A car honking behind you both made his eyes snap directly to the road, never noticing your attention to him. Your face was hot as fuck when you shook your head, playing it all off. The conversation had become too much in that capacity and you needed to plan a damn get-together. You now knew you should probably not spend the night alone in the apartment with Jake. 

Without another thought, you continued planning the event with Josh. “Okay, so. Tonight. Our place. All of that’s been settled. What are you wanting to eat?” You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, choosing to focus on the sonogram pictures as you placed the hand from your hair on your round belly. “Rather, what is Sammy wanting to eat? Since his week hasn’t been the best, he should probably choose right?”

“Well, let me think!” Josh started, suddenly yelling as if on speaker phone. His voice just a little too loud over the speakers.  

Jake looked over to you at the same point you looked at him, both of your eyes huge at the way his voice truly boomed through the speakers. 

Without a second thought, Jake reached a hand out to turn it down. The tension settled considerably as you cracked a smile at your roommate. Him turning Josh down was pretty fucking funny, you had to admit. But he just kept turning it down, Josh continuing to talk on the other end as Jake turned him completely silent. 

“Oh, now that is nice,” Jake sighed, leaning back. His fingers, still sitting lightly on the volume wheel. “Just how I like Josh. Not talking. Silent.”

You couldn’t help but burst with a laugh, slapping his hand out of the way as you continued to giggle at his action. When you did, you caught a tiny glance at his crotch, which he was trying very hard to cover. He quickly splayed the volume hand over it to hide the noticeable stretch at his zipper.

“Hey, now!” Jake quickly argued, at you making him move his hand. He sounded genuinely worried. Your eyes snapped up to his face, your cheeks red at being caught. Thankfully, though, his eyes were still on the road. Safe. 

You sighed yourself, hand still on the volume knob to hold onto some sense of stability in the otherwise stuffy car.

“I haven’t had a damn moment of peace since the moment I was conceived thanks to that curly haired motherfucker,” he sighed deeply and dramatically. A little grin tweaked his lips, revealing his playfulness. “And now you’re wanting to torture me further with his voice speaking to us over a stereo system? It’s hell. Hell, I tell you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snorted, a bigger laugh threatening to burst from your own little grin at his dramatics. It was pretty fucking hilarious, you couldn’t lie. But you had no clue what Josh was saying and you needed to (to slice the tension surrounding you, at the very least), so you reached forward to turn it back up.

And, of course, Josh was still talking as you turned the volume up. Not quite as loud this time, though. “. . .and Jake, you’re a fucking moron. Just because you turn me down doesn’t mean I can’t hear you! Fuckass,” Josh griped from the other end of the phone, additionally verbally tsking Jake from what you could hear. “You’re just too distracted by each other to think about sense.”

Fuck, Josh. Quit. You did not need to play into that, so instead. . . you chose the path of least resistance and defended yourself. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

“I’m sorry Jake turned you down, Josh,” you offered in response, looking over to see Jake’s devious smirk. It made your own lips raise; he really was pretty funny. “Now. Both of you quit this fucking twin banter because it is impossible to keep up with.”

Josh’s sigh from the other end rattled the speakers, causing Jake to dramatically cover the ear facing you. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the laugh that trickled from your lips. Still looking at your driver, you spoke to Josh again. “Let’s just keep talking about tonight’s plan before he gets the urge to shut you completely off.”

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Jake’s hair looked so fucking pretty. The length. The styled mess of natural waves, the longer it grew. It was harder everyday to not watch him. And his hair was the lethal weapon, flowing around his shoulders with every action, always pushed over just so at the front. It suited him better than any hair you’d ever seen on anyone.

And you meant that shit. Running your fingers through his long locks sounded blissful as fuck. You bit your lip as you watched the way he’d tucked it behind one ear. But, knowing you couldn’t do that. . .you decided to focus on something else. It was slightly depressing to face the reality of him not being yours, so avoiding it seemed the only key.

Your eyes scanned his form from the back, noting his outfit. Same thing he’d worn today to the doctor’s office, the white linen button-down, your favorite piece. Not anything special or out of the ordinary, but it didn’t have to be. Not if he was wearing it. When he shifted some weight onto a hip, your eyes couldn’t drift away from the way his black skinny jeans hugged his tight ass so well. 

Also, since when was it fair for a man to have such a perfectly round ass?!

Josh’s voice snapped you out of your daze momentarily. You could hear him from the living room as he and Sam argued. You assumed they were arguing over something petty, but you weren’t paying attention whatsoever. 

No, your attention had stayed primarily on Jake as he busied himself around the kitchen. He was putting finishing touches on his (apparently infamous) homemade pizzas. Per Sam’s request, that was what the menu had on it tonight.

You’d opted to stay in the kitchen with Jake as the three others found games to play and records to listen to. So, it was just the two of you, chilling in the kitchen. You had claimed to be helping. . . But you definitely weren’t. Your eyes were betraying you, distracting you with the view of your sexy ass baby daddy. 

The only thing that could distract you was the blessed heat emanating off the oven. The oven was obviously in active use, making the kitchen quite warm. And, being more and more pregnant by the day, you overheated too easily these days. It was aggravating. You’d already changed into goddamn Soffe shorts and a T-shirt (which used to fit normally, and now hugged your belly and boobs a little tighter) in the middle of winter. 

But. . . you were still too warm. Though, you refused to leave the kitchen. The view was just too lovely. So, as Jake worked on dicing some tomatoes, you moved to the kitchen window, opening it quickly to get some air circulating. But, in your rush to open it, you didn’t pay proper attention to the lavender, knocking it over in your haste. 

The precious lavender, which had only ever sat in that windowsill. Mindless, careless mistake. Clumsy fucking ass. You damn well started to tear up, more than a little distressed at the mishap. Pregnancy hormones were elevating everything and you felt like shit for destroying one of your favorite gifts ever. The most sentimental peace offering you’d ever received. 

As you fully registered the clatter, you realized Jake had as well. Coming back to the situation in front of you, you noticed him coming towards you quickly. A worried expression on his face and an offer to help, hands extended. But it was too late. You were near sobbing (again, thanks for the added dramatics, baby hormones). There was floral devastation in your wake. Nothing he could do.

Your eyes trailed to the remnants of the beautiful white pot you’d picked out together on a lazy day in early August, on your way home from the B&G. He’d picked you up. And after, exchanged the terracotta for the small, textured piece. The piece, now lying shattered below you — the pot, once intricately molded on every side to look like lavender. 

Just wonderful. To your extended dismay, you witnessed some of the ceramic scraps of the pot falling into the garbage disposal.

Your lack of care for your surroundings had caused the plant itself to fall at a very rapid speed, right into the sink. While the pot was sad, the possible destruction of the precious plant was making your heart cramp even worse in your chest. 

This little plant—it meant so much to you. For so many reasons, you cherished its presence. It reminded you of happier times, opening up to a man you’d hesitantly let in. The same man you’d ended up caring for more than so many others. . . Someone who changed your life forever – baby or no baby, he’d changed you. Helped you.  

Jake first grabbed your hands to check for cuts and scratches. He’d find none. You hadn’t touched the plant with your hands, only knocking it over with your arms. Was your body really becoming so huge that you were even more of a clutz than usual? God, you hoped not. 

Once he’d done his check on your hands, he quickly dropped them. You assumed he was might’ve been fearful of repeating the kitchen incident with the water. . . and the touching of the boobs. Not that you’d mind repeating it. But, right now, you were so emotional over the lavender pot, today’s doctor appointment, and everything else – that you feared if he touched you, you’d lean into him in ways you definitely shouldn’t. Especially with company right in the other room. 

“Well, fucking fucker,” you muttered, wiping furiously at your cheeks to keep tears away. You stared hopelessly at what was left of the pot in the sink. The plant and its soil, still clinging together in one piece despite the damage. 

Hm. . . In spite of everything, the plant clung together, despite the damage. The sight shadowed a metaphorical song in your head about your own life. Oddly familiar. For some reason, that part of it helped your blood to stop boiling. It offered some bright hope to the otherwise sad moment. The plant was okay. It had been protected. It was still salvageable. No matter what. And that was what mattered most. 

“It’ll be okay,” Jake reassured you, his hand coming up to hold your shoulder delicately. His thumb soothed tender circles into your skin through your t-shirt.

This week really had been worse than any other with getting hot easily. Which, Dr. Rose had said was normal as she’d reviewed current possible symptoms and questions with you. This week you’d just constantly been warm. Your hands found your tummy subconsciously, finding comfort in the bump.

“Yeah, it will be,” you replied quietly with a sigh. Turning slightly, you looked him directly in the eyes. It wasn’t hard, as Jake’s stare had already been focused on you. Your heart fluttered. “Thank you for that plant, by the way. I’m not sure if I have or haven’t said that yet, but still. It deserves a thank you again. . . especially now that I’ve destroyed it.”

“You haven’t destroyed it,” he said with a grin and kind eyes, as his hand dropped from your shoulder. “And no need to thank me. It was the least I could do after being such an asshole.”

“I didn’t need a gift.”

“In my opinion, it wasn’t really a gift, y/n. It was more than that,” he grinned, a hand reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. His hand, coming to rest against your neck, making featherlight circles against the skin there. Bliss. “But whatever it was, it was the absolute bare minimum of what you deserved after my act. And in general.”

“Jake—.”

“French Lavender’s elements are essential to one’s internal peace,” he continued, going to cup your cheek. You knitted your eyebrows, confused. But, he didn’t pause, hand still holding your cheek. “It smells good. It’s a beautiful color. Survives in any indoor climate.” 

“What are you–?”

“And it has the highest vibrational frequency of any plant that’s–.” 

No. Way.

“. . .known to bring good fortune,” you finished, remembering this exact explanation. The same spot in this kitchen, but with Josh rather than Jake. 

Game night. So long ago. And somehow, you remembered it. And Jake did, too? How? He hadn’t been–. Wait. “You spied on us that night. I remember!” You laughed, stunned. “Were you listening the entire time?”

A quiet smile lit up his handsome face, the recurring mustache that was only stubble this week moving with the smirk on his lips. “I wasn’t spying. That makes me sound like a fuckin’ creep,” he chuckled under his breath.

The little grin that came with a twinkle in your eye matched his peaceful energy. You felt this moment with him. “Well. . . if the shoe fits, honey.”

Now you were the one saying honey. Today had been a day.

He was once again bringing the hand from your cheek to your neck, tenderly holding the side of it. His thumb skated behind your ear. “Not creepy. Just observant.”

“That you are,” you agreed quietly, leaning into his touch, even reaching up with your own hand to grab his wrist. You made your own little shapes against his wrist with your thumb. There was a minute or more spent just standing there, letting him hold you in the soft, serene moment. The world’s noise was muffled around you. After a little bit, your brows crinkled again as you saw his eyes travel to your lips. “How did you remember it so well?”

“Everything you’ve ever said is important enough to remember,” he plainly stated. “Simple as that.”

“I don’t know about that,” you shook your head, flushing. With the action, his hand moved. And, rather than letting it drop, you caught it in your hand on its way down. Didn’t want to lose his touch. 

Rather than freezing for a second at your touch, he didn’t make it obvious that your action had deterred him. No, his eyes still read the same and his lips still sat in a secret smile. “I do know about that, baby.”

Baby. You could crumple in tears again at the name. . . How you missed it coming from his lips, only for you. . .Again, you just stood there, appreciating the moment. It was as though nothing had changed. So, you kept talking. As if it were still summertime, the world still made special for you and him. 

“Well. . . do you agree?” You muttered, soft enough for only his ears to hear.

“About?”

“French Lavender? Lavender? Its elements?”

Jake’s eyes traveled above your head and his lips pursed, pondering. He squinted slightly in thought before coming back to you, meanwhile maneuvering the hand you’d caught so he could easily hold yours. Your fingers laced together effortlessly. 

“I’m not sure,” he started, eyes going from your hands to your belly, then your lips, your nose, and finally your line of sight. “It might have been partially the lavender that brought me peace because I truly believe in its aid to human consciousness. But. . . I think the reason I felt better was because of you. I decided to get over my shit and pursue something with you before the lavender ever touched our apartment. You made me see the light. The plant just helped you see me for me. And not the dick I’d been to you at the beginning.”

“I always knew there was more hiding underneath,” you somehow managed past your lips, stunned at his words. “Your eyes are a window, Jake. I could see you. That’s why you pissed me off. Because you wouldn’t let me see you. But—you’re right. . . the lavender helped me see you. When you gave me the plant, that’s when things started opening for me. When you started opening,” you explained, reaching your free hand up to touch his face. 

The thumb that traced his growing facial hair couldn’t be stopped. He closed his eyes at the soft action – but only briefly before he opened them to watch you as you continued to speak. “But I do understand,” you started, brows knitted. “Not trusting. Trusting someone new is hard. Trust is hard. And then I broke yours.” The following words slipped from your lips all on their own. “Worst fucking mistake.”

His hand squeezed yours, fingers still entwined. “Not broken,” he said lowly, the words honest from his chest. 

And, without taking any time to consider it, you knew you needed him to touch you in one special place. Slowly, you moved your tied hands to your tummy. You unlaced your fingers from his, and used the hand to place his open palm on your round belly. The little belly that held a part of him inside. Your breath caught in your chest as you watched tears form in his eyes as he took in the sight of his hand on what you’d made together. His lips formed a shaky smile, eyes finding yours. This time, though, his eyes were different. It was as if something had awoken inside of him and his eyes looked desperate to share it with you. 

He backed you up until your back lightly brushed the counter that faced away from the living room. It was private. You could tell he wanted privacy. To hold your belly? 

You soon realized why he wanted the little nook, away from eyes. Before you could register what was happening, his lips had connected with your neck. He lazily gave open-mouthed kisses to the same place he’d been holding earlier. You shook at the pillowy plushness of his lips on your skin again, your eyes closing on their own. The sigh that brushed past your lips caused his thumb to move against your tummy. The digit, sure in its motions as he rubbed soothingly against your belly, tracing something into it. 

You naturally rolled your neck to the side, giving him better access as he went to nip at your earlobe. His thumb repeated the pattern he’d begun. The same combination of shapes every time. What was he–?

It was difficult to pry your eyes open amidst the feeling of relief that washed over you. But, still. You did. You had to know. “Jake,” you started, his name a breath on your lips. “What are you–?”

“Jacob!” Sam squawked from the other room, with an urgency and rush of anxious energy. 

It took absolutely no time for the two of you to separate, realizing you would soon no longer be alone in the sanctuary of the kitchen. He went to lean against the same counter he’d been using to prepare the pizzas and you stayed put in your spot against the counter. He ran a hand through his hair and ran his palm over his mouth and chin, refreshing the best he could as he looked down, shaking his head. 

Then, he wiped his lips with the pad of his thumb. Your heart hurt at the motion, but you understood. You had to stop doing these things. Letting them happen. Initiating them. Both of you. Had to stop. 

Ignoring the ridiculous train of thought, you fixed yourself, too. You fluffed out your hair, laying it against your shoulders to cover your neck. The pieces you tucked behind your ears, simply to fight against the onslaught of heat you were feeling from the kitchen and now Jake. Thankfully, the open window helped bring in a cool, crisp, wintery breeze. Shit. The window. The plant. You needed to clean up your mess in the sink.

“Y/n, baby,” Jake stopped you as he saw you move, staying in his spot. You looked over at him, raising a brow in his direction. “Not the broken pieces. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Jake,” you argued, bending to grab a Walmart bag from the snake that hung in the cabinet below the sink. The task was harder than need be with a belly in the way, but not impossible. It took you a bit to figure out how you were going to bend. . .

Apparently noticing the struggle, Jake lunged in front of you before you could get all the way down. He grabbed a bag for you, shutting the wooden door to the cabinet before you could try to out-stubborn him by getting another bag. 

He handed you the bag, to which you rolled your eyes at him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead still watching the doorway to the kitchen before turning to place a pizza he’d just finished before your mess, in the waiting oven. 

Bag in your hand, you started collecting the ceramic shards. You were grateful they were bigger pieces, avoiding the prospect of nicking yourself. Jake did have a point at you possibly getting hurt. You’d give him that. Then, as you heard Sam’s bare feet slap against the kitchen floor, you looked over your shoulder in the direction of the sound. In your peripheral, you saw Jake’s head snap in the direction of the kitchen doorway as well.

“Jacob Thomas!” Sam screeched, his face equally serious and joking. His eyes were bright, but his tone was sharp. “I have a bone to pick, brother.”

“What, Samuel?” He asked, eyebrows bent in at the rushed, borderline accusatory tone that had come from his baby brother. “Why the full name?”

Josh and Daniel were hot on Sam’s tail, both walking into the kitchen with exhausted expressions as they followed his ass. They both seemed flustered and grumpy. . . And with the way they stayed close to him, obviously not letting him talk to Jake alone, you wondered if them being near had to do with whatever it was he had come to report to Jake.

Sam was oblivious to the exhaustion and didn’t let their presence stop his huff as he stood firm in his place. He was slightly wobbly as he grabbed onto the counter you’d just been leaning against to stay upright. “Woah,” his eyes bugged at being unsteady. His body weaved as he stopped for a second to offer one of his signature vibration-laughs at himself. “Well dammit, I think I’m drunk!”

“Oh, no, Sam. Really? Wouldn’t have guessed,” Josh chided him from the fridge, where he stood behind Sam.

Sammy’s cheeks were balled up and bright pink from the amount of alcohol he’d had to drink. He ignored Josh altogether, staring straight at Jake when he hastily addressed him. “Where is your damn phone, brother?”

Jake felt at his pockets. “Oh, fuck. In the car, I think. What’s going on? Is it mom? Dad? Veron–?”

“It’s not even close to that serious, Jake,” Josh chimed in, trying to soften Sam’s theatrics. 

“Josh. Shut up,” Sam instructed, still looking at Jake. “And, Jake, if you must know, Maya called. That’s what. Perfect, beautiful, gorgeous goddess Maya. She told me she’d reached out earlier around the end of the appointment. Told me you didn’t answer then either,” Sam loosely informed Jake, standing a bit wobbly, yet effortlessly sassy with a hand on one hip. 

He seemed genuinely frustrated with Jake’s lack of communication before he took a swig from the red solo cup in his other hand. The one sip took long enough that the rest of you were exchanging looks at Sam’s behavior. Your expressions were all very similar: wide eyes, squiggled brows, and shaky grins that switched to pursed lips off and on. He was on his way to being completely gone and it was only 6 pm. All of you, seeming equal parts concerned and amused. 

The twins seemed irritated. Josh, concerned, but more frustrated. Jake, annoyed with Sam’s spiel. Neither one, here for Sam’s antics and it was clear as day.

When the youngest brother finished his long sip, his wide eyes were back on his brother, no longer judgemental. A miracle. Apparently tonight, all it took was a quick drink to flip the switch. “She was just really excited to hear about the appointment. Wanted to know how it went. Curious over the gender.”

“Oh,” Jake plainly responded. He seemed unbothered. It made you pause, but he kept talking before you could question it. “Well, we’re not telling the gender yet. She should understand that. It’s common sense,” he explained, brushing some hair behind his ear, his jawline exquisitely accentuated with the motion. “And I can’t help that I forgot my phone in the car. Shit happens. We used it for directions to and from the clinic and my mind was in other places when we got home.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You appreciated how firm he’d been about the gender not being revealed to anyone but the two of you. That was hot. And, he still wasn’t jumping to go get his phone or anything. 

“Well, whatever,” Sam rolled his eyes dramatically, snorting. “I told her to bring her sweet little ass over here and join the party!” Sam exclaimed, Jake scoffed at his brother, shaking his head. His eyebrows settled momentarily, giving the younger brother slightly more attention. “I told her you’d mentioned it to me. That you wanted her here.”

And, Jake’s expression was stern once more. “I didn’t ever mention it, Sam,” Jake griped back.

“I know, I know. But I’m sure you were going to,” Sammy spouted back like a noncompliant child. “Because you loooove her, Jake. I’m sure you were going to invite your girlfriend to this. Just be glad you have a good one, Jake.” He cracked the ‘k’ sound in Jake’s name, sticking his lip out. “Feel like I have to appreciate her for you sometimes. You don’t understand what you hav–.”

“I understand how incredible she is,” Jake interrupted, cutting the younger brother off. He seemed aggravated, but his words still hit your heart unpleasantly. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. He thought she was incredible. “Thank you for inviting her, Sam,” Jake finished, seeming done with the conversation entirely. 

Was he actually thankful she was coming? You couldn’t tell. Either way, your stomach felt as though it had fallen to the bottoms of your feet. The heaviness at the idea of Maya being with all of you tonight was making you feel sick. Your eyes snapped for a glimpse over to Jake, and he was doing the same towards you at the exact same moment. You’d felt him looking at you, perhaps gauging your reaction. But, even though you were feeling it all, you were not showing a whole lot. You were working on it. Every single day, you worked on not letting it show how much you despised her presence.

“She’s on her way,” Sam cut in again. Your ears were ringing.

 But before Jake could say anything, Josh hopped in. “Y/n. How about you invite that guy over? The one from your classes? Heard you’ve been hanging out with him. . .”

You really didn’t want this night to turn into anything. Didn’t want Maya here. Definitely didn’t want Theo here. And you already knew you would be putting on some sort of show if Theo were to show up. You’d try to force things. For your experiment.

Tonight, though, you didn’t feel like forcing anything. Not after such a special appointment like today’s. Not after what had just happened in the kitchen, only moments ago. You wanted time with your friends after an incredibly special day spent with Jake. All you’d wanted was a night with the guys. Just like it had been before. You wanted a comfortable, calming evening.

The more you’d thought about it, it’d honestly seemed like perfect timing when Josh had called earlier. A wondrous cherry on top of a beautiful day. God, why had Sam invited her over? You knew it was most likely because of his drunkenness. But. . . why did he have to be so drunk at 6 pm? You still didn’t know why his week had been shit.

Wait. Hold up. Josh had brought Theo up as a possible guest. How did he–? How did Josh know about your current situation with Theo? You hadn’t talked to him about. . . Oh. 

You peeked over at Jake, who was suddenly turning in the complete opposite direction of you. HIs back to all of you as he went back to the pizza. He had to be to blame. Right? Someone had been complaining to his twin. You were sure of it. How else would Josh know you’d been talking to Theo? And why did Jake care about it so much? When he had his girlfriend, who was seemingly perfect? What the two of you had. . . it wasn’t solid anymore – had it ever been? And what he had with her was concrete.

Did Jake really care so much about Theo as to tell Josh? You’d meant what you told him earlier: he shouldn’t care. He should not care. There was only one girl he needed to care about (well, not including the one in your belly) and he was dating her. Maya. Not you. Damn it all to fuck. You were wired to hell over all of it. And Maya was on her damn way. 

The reason it sucked the most was because it was you getting slapped in the face with reality again. All it did was remind you that Jake was not yours. You’d have to spend all night watching them. Real enjoyable.

Josh’s voice pulled you back. “You’ve been seeing him, why not invite him?”

You know. . . He was right. Why the fuck not? As much as you did not want all of the extra people over, you couldn’t stand the thought of watching Jake and Maya being all cuddly while you sat miserably single and pregnant with his baby all night. It was the perfect opportunity to get your mind off of Jake. Even after a perfect day like today. But, today. . . it wasn’t real. It was just a bunch of emotions stacked on one special day about the baby. Not you and Jake. Today was a fairytale. 

Yet, even as you tried to delegitimize it all, your neck burned with the shape of his lips. You wanted more. But more wasn’t yours to have.

All this did was remind you. It reminded you that you still needed to test your theory of falling for another guy to prove something to yourself and to Jake. You didn’t need Jake to be happy. Truly. Seven months ago, you hadn’t needed him. You could get back to that. He was the father of your child. Nothing more.

You could’ve laughed at that fucking lie. Nothing more. A complete falsity, that statement.

You didn’t laugh about it, though. No, instead, you looked at Josh straight on. Your lips quirked the best they could with a plain smirk, “I will, actually. Thanks for thinking of that, Joshy.”

“Well, yeah. You deserve–.”

“You deserve to get your freak on, y/n!” Sam cheered, bringing up his red solo cup filled with God knew what. “All of those pent up baby hormones. I’ve heard about those and goddamn, Dragon. I can not imagine how you’re doing it while being so sexy and single as a pring—!”

“None of that was even remotely close to what I was going to say, Samuel,” Josh cut him off, motioning at him blatantly to zip his mouth. His hand cut a firm line in the air, still as could be. He was serious. Josh’s face was stone still and his mouth was in a straight line, completely void of laughter. He was very angry with Sam for opening his mouth.  You could tell that much. 

“Josh, it’s fine–,” you attempted, getting cut off by the drunk and rambling baby brother.

“Well who cares. Because I’m drunk,” Sam seemed to reason, with nobody and everybody all at once. He looked over at his curly-haired brother, who was raising a frustrated brow in Sam’s direction. “Josh, I’m going to put some music on the record player. If you wanna beat me to it, I suggest you–.”

And, it seemed, Josh was suddenly better again at the mention of music. It took him no time to sprint out of the kitchen, brushing past Sam. You watched Sam laze about after Josh. And you knew Josh was sure to get his first pick. Sam followed slowly out with a dramatic wave, foot over foot. His drink, sloshing over the cup as he simultaneously took a drink.

Then, he was gone. Ruckus over. For now.

“Holy fuck. He is in for a long ass night, huh?” Danny commented, still leaning against the frame of the kitchen’s entry. He’d barely said a word before, keeping a safe place at the back. 

You smiled over at the tall man, feeling sympathy for Sammy and his friend who was trailing behind, cleaning up his messes. Right before you could ask why Sammy was so drunk, Jake started talking.

“Damn fuckin’ straight,” Jake agreed, making your head turn in his direction. He was creating the next pie with a variety of vegetables, with his back turned to you. “Ironically enough, I’m making this damn veggie pizza for him as we speak. Sure fuckin’ hope he’s not so wasted he can’t enjoy it. Working my ass off.”

“He will definitely enjoy it. Promise you, dude. Your pizzas are unrivaled,” Danny reassured.

Unrivaled. You were suddenly intrigued, remembering you’d never tried Jake’s pizzas. In the past, whenever pizza was chosen as the meal for you and Jake, it had only ever been ordered. Did he make pizza for Maya all of the time? Because she was special? Or did he order pizza with her too? Why did it matter?

“Why’s he drinking so much anyway?” You piped up, digging yourself out of the slump your mind was creating. Leaning a hip against the fridge diagonal from the kitchen entryway Danny stood in, you crossed your arms at your chest. 

“I mean, I know it’s fun to just get drunk sometimes. I get it. I’ve done that before. But. . . he seemed a little emotional when he started talking about relationships.” You stopped talking to look down and pick at your nails. The feeling of being a bad friend to Sam was making your heart sink. You were sad that you had no clue what was going on in his life. You didn’t know what was going on in anyone’s lives. 

You felt really selfish. Selfish. Fuck. The word came flashing back through foggy memories, hearing it big, loud, and without any warning. Only hearing it in your mom’s voice. . . Way deep down in your chest you felt how she’d once said it. You remembered the way tears would gather in your throat, too scared to cry. You were made to feel selfish at every turn as a child — even the act of crying. Looking back now, that was fucking ridiculous. 

But your mom was always the first to comment on your selfishness. She’d remind you how selfish you were at every turn — how much of an inconvenience you’d been to her. The words made your gut twist with unknown memories attached to them. You couldn’t locate those memories right now and you were glad you couldn't. Even without knowing what they were specifically, they frightened you. Terrified you. 

Veering away from the unknown, pitch black trenches of memories, you thought back on your mom. How she always told you that everything you did for others was only going to serve you in the long run anyway. She never let you believe for a second that you thought of anyone but yourself. 

And how you’d acted after she left? Towards Elsie? Maybe she’d had a point all of those years ago. Was there any good in you? You felt that term at the pit of your stomach now, weighing you to the fridge. Selfish.

Back to the subject, y/n. Come on, girl. Not the time.

“I’m kind of out of the loop these days,” you surmised, chewing the inside of your cheek with a frown.

“Sammy was actually talking to a girl. Got pretty serious for a few months there. Same chick from the AirBnb, actually. You guys met her. A little off and on for a bit, but they kept in contact long enough. So, for the past few months or so, it’s been everyday,” Danny’s eyes widened as he blew out a breath, taking a sip from the beer bottle he’d been nursing since he got to the apartment. “Been spending all of their time together. It’s been everything to him. They’ve been in each other’s beds almost every night, talking about pets and Christmas family gatherings but. . . She texted him last night with this long winded excuse as to why she couldn’t be with Sam because she had to go back to her boyfriend of like ten years that she’d broken up with right before Sammy,” Danny swiped a hand over his forehead, shaking his head side to side. His long black hair, waving around him with the motion. “So. . . She basically used Sam as a rebound and it’s hitting him in the heart.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you breathed, repulsed on Sammy’s behalf. He was such a sensitive and carefree guy and this girl had used that. . . Was that what you did with Jake? Did you use him too frequently? Still?

God. Stop it, y/n!

“Yeah . . . He was a ball on Josh’s bed last night, only wanting his big brother to talk him down from it. He really liked her. Probably actually loved her. You know how much Sam feels for others.”

“Feels everything,” Jake noted, sprinkling some seasonings on the pizza in front of him. “Maybe it’s a genetic trait ‘cause I’m right there with him.” 

Danny huffed a laugh, raising a brow at that. He took another healthy swig. “Maybe.”

And then Sam was calling Danny’s name from the living room, begging for ‘back-up’ against the ‘Evil Elf.’ You couldn’t help but snort at the term Evil Elf. You heard Josh raise his voice at Sam’s insulting nickname. But your snort quickly turned into a belly laugh as you heard him repeatedly spouting it at Josh in response. Knowing him, he was probably flicking Josh’s forehead or some shit to emphasize it. 

Damn. . . He was bound to be the fucking enter-tain-ment for the night. You hoped he would be a good thought diverter. 

“You better help Josh in Sam’s attack against him,” Jake encouraged Danny. “I would, but. . .,” Jake motioned at the pizza he was preparing as he finally turned. “I’m on the last one.”

When you caught a glimpse of his face, you saw some of his own amusement at the ordeal. His teeth weren’t showing, but his dimples were present in his cheeks as he gave Danny a loose grin. 

“No, I got it, dude,” Danny responded without another thought on the matter. “You’re busy.”

And, within seconds, Daniel was gone. Leaving you alone with Jake. Jake, who was back to looking at his damn pizza. His strong back, facing you. Those broad shoulders, mocking you. 

You decided not to follow Danny, wanting to stay with Jake as long as you could. Even if he wouldn’t look at you, his presence comforted you. Though, not wanting to be completely distracted by his aura, you tried to busy yourself with an activity of your own. 

Oh! You could make dessert! 

Quickly checking the built-in pantry to the right of the fridge, you saw some brownie mix and a box of yellow cake mix sitting in the baking goods section of a shelf. And without any thought or question, brownies won the battle of what sounded most delicious. 

Brownies suddenly sounded positively scrumptious to you. So, reaching forward, you grabbed them out and placed them on the island. When you turned to place them there, Jake still had his back turned to you. Goddamn. He was doing a stand-up job at ignoring you completely. The silence between you was deafening.

You didn’t even acknowledge him. This would be good. It would be good to ignore him. You just went about your business getting all of the ingredients out and your hand mixer. . . but you needed a bowl. 

When you went to grab one, you noticed the mixing bowls were just a tad bit too high for you to reach. And even though Jake wasn’t the tallest man ever, he was still taller than you. He would be able to get what you needed for you. Perfect.

Ugh! No! The whole point of busying yourself was to ignore him!

Not wanting to give in to the urge to ask him for help, you tried your damn best to just do it yourself. Standing on your tiptoes, you stretched a hand way up for that one clear mixing bowl you always used when you baked. . . So close, yet just out of your reach. A lot like someone–.

“Dammit, y/n, let me get it.” His beautifully raspy voice was suddenly in your ear, but he sounded a little perturbed. All the sound did was make your cheeks grow warm and pink. “Just ask for help.”

He was right behind you, his front side completely pressed to your backside, making you dizzy. And as he placed one hand on your hip to balance himself, you thought you were going to buckle immediately. The feeling of his searing hot hold on the bit of skin at your hip, peeking out from your t-shirt, made you shiver.

His fingers were so close to the bump, but not quite touching it. As he pushed himself into you a bit further, you felt him against your ass, right through the thin material of your black Soffe shorts. He wasn’t completely hard. Not yet. But he would get there before too long if this continued like it had before Sam’s intrusion. You knew him. 

Back in the moment, you noticed his other hand reaching up for the bowl. And, of course, he grabbed it with no problem at all, being tall enough to grab the dish that had been too difficult a job for you. Ugh. You needed him. Even if it were just for a fucking dish. 

When he placed the bowl on the counter, you reached to touch the bowl at the same moment he went to move his hand. And for a brief bit of time, your hands grazed each other. It happened for long enough that you both stilled your hands, appreciating the feeling. . .

He didn’t move from his spot behind you. 

He laid his palm flat on the counter, grounded himself. Boxed you in with his body — the sandalwood, vanilla, and suede in his cologne made your head swirl. You gripped the bowl tighter, enjoying the fact that he’d stayed behind you, but wanting more. His hot breath continued to bathe your already warm neck in the most delicious wisps of air. Naturally, you leaned into him just the slightest bit. Couldn’t help it.

Once more, his enticingly gravelly voice was in your ear. “Was Sam right?”

You turned your head to speak to him more directly, but kept your eyes downcast to maintain some sense of stability. Lowly, you questioned him right back. “Was he right about what?” 

“Are you going to mess around with Theo?” He hushed, breath fanning over your cheek. He spoke Theo’s name as if it were laced with poison. “You wanna take out your baby hormones on him?”

“That’s not your business, Jake,” you breathed back, shakily taking in some air to fill your tight lungs. You moved your hand on his, watching the movement. You gently traced your fingertips down his long digits. His strong hand fidgeted, flexing at the action. Slowly, you went to rest your palm on the top of his hand. 

But when you went to move your hand, he stopped you. His hand quickly turned the other way around to grab yours in a sure grip — seamlessly lacing your fingers. 

“Do you really want him?” he posed the question heatedly, placing a breath of a kiss on your temple, lips brushing your skin. 

“I don’t fucking know, Jake,” you hissed under your breath, pushing your ass into him as he brushed your hair to the side, once again pressing his lips to the column of your neck. 

Before you could think of another thing, he was spinning you around, your back smoothly pressing to the side of the fridge nearest to you. Your breath was heavy enough to emit a gasp at the motion. Just out of view from the guys, Jake kept you hidden, pulling you away from the fridge just a bit and closer to him.

His grasp on your hand let up a little, his palm pressing against the small of your back the best it could with your hand in the way. At the same time, he pressed his hips into yours, showing his reaction to you. Oh.

He kept hold of your hand at your lower back, his arm wrapped close around you. His strength held you in a secure grip, making you feel so safe and at home. . . Just like the lavender field. . . 

Your stomach was pressed into his, there was a sliver of skin where your belly was exposed at the hem of your t-shirt. Your warm skin brushed up against the buttons of his shirt and the soft material. The cottony linen of it felt like a dream against your skin, so close to him. And, wrapping one hand at the curve between your neck and the base of your skull, his soft lips made home on your neck, placing wet kiss after wet kiss on the skin there. His tongue, peeking out only slightly to touch you with every nip from his lips.

He used his hold to position your neck just right, to get the angle he wanted. Your body ignited with heat and desire for him. The way your head fell back and your neck loosened with the tiniest sigh from your lips was unavoidable.

“You keep doing this to me, baby,” he groaned against your neck. Slowly, he lifted his mouth from you, his tongue had been so close to running over your pulse.

But he’d stopped.

“Doing what to you, Jacob?” You grit back, pulling your head up lazily to stare at him. There was fire in your eyes as you peeked up at him from under your lashes. Your chest lifted in heavy breaths.

“I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help but look at you and— and. . .,” he trailed off, gently moving his hand to run a thumb over your cheekbone. His shoulders, sturdy, and curved in to keep you to himself. “I just look at you and want to bend you over and remind you that you can do better than him.”

Your thighs squeezed together, you were aching for him to do what he described. . . Yet, as much as his words made you eager to do just what he wanted in the middle of this kitchen right this second. . . he’d said something you both needed to remember. It was wrong. Though, it was odd. . . Just as much as it felt foolishly wrong, it felt completely right.

But, right now, the wrong was what hung over your shoulders. The guys could walk in at any moment. Maya could arrive (thanks to Sam’s lovely invite) and catch you both. Wrapped up in each other. Goddammit.

“Jake,” you sighed, sadly and resolved to the decision to break up whatever was going on at the moment. “We shouldn’t– we shouldn’t be doing this. We aren’t together. This is–. You have Maya and I have to. . :,” you trailed off, unable to finish.

He didn’t take his eyes from you for several seconds, studying your face. You hadn’t moved. You didn’t want to be the first one to move. His eyebrows drew together in deep concentration. His amber-brown irises showed that he understood when he nodded hesitantly, backing away. You immediately missed the contact. His shoulders were tense and bunched up before he stood up straighter to roll them out. 

But, you could tell how upset it made him, eyes downcast until he was leaning against the island across from you, putting his hands out to grab hold of it when he was near enough. Across from you, he looked up at you with conflict ghosting over his features. He understood the levity of the situations you kept putting yourselves in, but what he understood about it made him angry. Or, at least you assumed. You’d spent several months observing every little (and big) emotion Jake felt, you had a pretty good inclination on how well you could read the man. Most times.

Besides, you felt the same exact way, so you could sense it billowing off of him in waves. 

“I know,” he sighed, his body rigid and eyes emptier than they’d been moments before. He slapped on a smile that stretched a little too tight across his lips. “Just–go rest. I need to wait in here for the pizzas to finish.”

“But I need to make the brown–.”

“I will make them.”

“Jake–.”

“Do you want to make them?”

“Yes, I want to eat some, so—.”

“But did you truly want to make them, or can you just let me do that for you?”

You stood there, at a loss over much more than the brownies. Without any other idea of how to respond, you just placed your hands on your hips, shrugging. In the end, preparing and baking them had just been a distraction.

If you weren’t going to allow yourself to be in the same room as Jake, all you really wanted to do was sit down and rest your feet after the long day. But damn. . .you’d made yourself want those brownies. . . The picture on the box was calling your name. . .

Jake huffed the smallest laugh, but his face was still void of any one emotion.“I know you don’t want to make them, but you want to eat them. Let me make them for you.”

You almost agreed. But, you looked over to the sink. You hadn’t finished with the lavender. You’d gotten distracted.

“The plant. I need to put it in a new–.”

“I’ll get it,” Jake said, his eyes the slightest bit brighter, even though his mouth still held a smile that didn’t look completely real. “You need to sit down. It’s been a long day. Go talk to my brothers or something. I’m sure you’d love to do that and they fucking love you, so.”

Well, it was settled, then. He was correct in all of that.

“And call your boyfriend,” he suddenly said, turning his back to you, tone too friendly. It sounded as though he was suddenly okay with Theo. And you knew damn better than that. 

But you couldn’t question his sudden change in attitude with his back turned to you once again. And why was his sudden shift in attitude pissing you the hell off? Stupid ass shit. It shouldn’t even matter — it just threw you for a loop. You were still so angry and he was just. . . Fine? Not fair.

Ugh. If anything, it should have made you glad that he wasn’t being so hostile about Theo. . . But instead, you missed the way he inflamed at the mention of your study buddy. You missed the heat from moments ago.

You clenched your fists at your hips, digging into the flesh before you decided to pull down your shirt a little to cover your whole tummy. Even if it was only a couple inches of skin, it made you feel exposed and you were not in the mood anymore. 

To test him just a little, you fought back. “He’s not my–.”

“Well, he’s on his way to being it, so might as well start calling him that,” he responded, a little sharper. His broad back still to you, as he went about grabbing the rest of the ingredients.

You stood there for a moment, contemplating what to say – if you should say anything. But when he avoided any and all eye contact, you decided to just leave the room. He was a pro at pissing you the fuck off. And you didn’t want to argue with him over something so stupid and trivial. 

You didn’t make a sound as you turned on your heel and made your way to the living room to be with the boys. Sam, and his loud signature cackle, bouncing off of the living room walls to greet you.

As soon as your ass hit the couch cushion, you were texting Theo. Because, well. . . fuck Jake. Suddenly, you were very curious to see how Jake might react to having him around all night.

Theo took almost no time to respond. 

Theo, 6:23 p.m.: Sure thing! I’ll be there :) Thanks for thinking of me, beautiful!

The term of endearment made your heart leap in your chest, your cheeks blushing as a little grin fit to your lips. Beautiful. Every girl liked being called beautiful by a cute guy. You might as well fucking enjoy it. He was coming for you tonight. Only you. No one else. 

He only wanted you. You were special to Theo. Jake couldn’t say that. There was at least one woman more important than you and he made that clear by continuing to be with her. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were relieved for it. . .

In your heart, you knew that your graveyard of a past was not something he was responsible for. He didn’t need to be the one picking up the pieces. You’d rather him be with a woman who brought him nothing but joy. You brought doom and destruction. Right? You always had.

You were momentarily distracted as you watched Sam uselessly trying to put his hair in a high bun. Danny was rolling his eyes and soon coming to his rescue. He really was such a good friend. Everyone needed a Daniel Wagner in their life.

Then, as you were texting Theo back with a slightly flirty text, you wondered what the night might entail for you. Playing this damn game was ridiculous and petty, but you had a point to prove. To Jake and to yourself. You didn’t need him. 

Who knew if he cared to realize it. . . But you did. In all reality, you knew Jake really didn’t even care that much. It was more about the baby than you anyway, you were sure of it. So, you contemplated. 

Should you take it a step further? Force yourself out of Jake Mode? You hadn’t been with anyone else for a long-ass time. . . It could be really good for you. Even if it felt a little strange doing that with someone else while Jake’s baby moved around (apparently quite a bit) inside your belly. You couldn’t feel her yet, but Dr. Rose had assured you that it would be coming sooner than later. 

What would it be like when you could feel her? Would that make sex with someone else even more awkward? 

You rolled your eyes at that thought. Duh. It would be like your baby giving you a piece of her mind for giving anyone but her Daddy attention. Well, too bad her Daddy wanted to give someone else attention. And too bad you were too fucked up to give yourself to her Daddy. 

Damn, even though you’d just been pissed at Jake, referring to him as Daddy in your head was doing something to you. Something Jake couldn’t be the one to help you with. Because you were done with the foolish moments.

You knew you’d end up needing help alleviating some of that pent up tension. All of the. . . moments with Jake recently weren’t doing your over-excited sex drive and hormones any good. You were on the verge of going absolutely ballistic if you didn’t do something to ease the pent up energy.

And you were not about to give Jake the idea that he would be the one to help (as much as you wanted it). Not anymore would you give that idea to him. Not when he was so quick to turn you on and just as soon turn his back. 

Fuck that.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

“I call the hard liquor!” Sam excitedly declared as he started fast walking towards the kitchen. 

“Dear God,” Josh grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer. “Please, God no.”

“Um, absolutely not,” Danny replied, already following closely behind. 

Theo quickly got up to follow the other two, acting like he was somehow part of the inside joke. It was awkward to watch, but you were glad he was up and away from you for a little bit. His arm had been around you all night and it had been suffocating the air around you. Claustrophobia was definitely real. After a few seconds of feeling the relief, it dawned on you what Sammy had said. Liquor. You Laugh, You Drink. This was a drinking game. Duh.

“Fuuuck,” you groaned. For some reason, you’d totally forgotten about the whole drinking part of the game. Even though it was literally part of the title, you’d just skimmed over it. Pregnancy brain.

“What, love?” Josh inquired, brows knit in concern. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you drew out the word with a sad smile and a shake of your head. “I just remembered it’s a drinking game.”

“Oh no,” Maya chimed in, her naturally whiny voice getting right under your skin. It was obvious she was trying too hard to act like she cared.

She sounds like a goddamn Kardashian, you thought with an internal roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, y/n. Fuck. Do we need to find a different game?” Josh wondered aloud, doe-eyed and totally willing to uproot the one game Sam wanted to play. It was Sam’s night and you weren’t about to rain on his already-depressing parade. “We can total–.”

“No, Joshy,” you swatted the idea away with a wave of your hand. And with a hand to your belly, you leaned back, a wider grin gracing your lips. “I’ll just sit here and watch. It’ll be just as fun.”

“No it won’t,” Josh argued, shaking his head. “I want you to participate. Let me think. . .,” He sat there for a second, on the ground, legs crossed in front of him. He had his thinking face on as he tapped a finger to his chin. His eyes lit up after a few seconds, apparently coming up with something. “How about none of us drink and we just get out if we laugh?”

“The drinking adds to the hilarity of the game,” you replied. “Seriously, Josh. It’s o–.”

“How about. . .,” Jake suddenly chimed in to your left, having taken up the arm chair with Maya. Your skin heated at hearing his voice. You hadn’t looked his way since he’d come to sit in the living room an hour or so ago.

You’d been rude enough to not even say thank you for the delicious pizza you’d all devoured. Or the unbelievable brownies that he’d ended up baking for you, swirling caramel in with them and everything. He’d done more than he had to, but you didn’t want to think about it. But, you decided to finally show him a little respect by turning your head in the direction of his voice. 

“How about I don’t drink either and you and I can just play the game by getting out if we laugh,” he paused, probably assuming you’d turn all the way to look at him better in response. You didn’t. “Um. . . Everyone else can drink. It’ll still be funny that way and we don’t have to break Sammy’s heart by taking away the drinking.”

Why was he being so sweet? You hated how kind he could be. It did your heart very little good.

“Jake, no. Don’t do that. I’ll be–,” you began, finally letting your eyes flit over to him. But, he wasn’t looking at you. No, he was watching Josh who’d started clapping. 

Apparently Josh liked the idea. “Great thinking, Jacob!” Josh applauded him from his spot on the floor, across from the three of you. The curly headed twin languidly rose from his spot next to the record player, brushing his khaki pants before pointing towards the kitchen. “If that’s all settled, I’m going to grab a White Claw and assist Daniel in herding Sam back in here.”

Without any time to protest and Josh already on his way to the kitchen, you were out-voted. No drinking for you or Jake, apparently. 

“Well. . .,” Maya dragged in her valley-girl twang, placing a hand on Jake’s arm that you immediately turned your head at seeing. “I won’t drink if you don’t, babe.” 

Your stomach lurched at her acting like she could save the day by not making Jake do something alone with the pregnant lady.

“No. . . it’s okay,” Jake said in return, trying to use a honeyed little voice to reassure her. 

You could’ve puked on the spot. 

“I don’t want you to feel alone, though,” the gorgeous dark-haired woman offered. You were glad you’d been avoiding looking at them all night. You’d watched her walk in and claim the chair. Your chair. Aaand that had been enough. You hated watching her and Jake and it was honestly aggravating how perfect she was in her statuesque beauty. 

“I won’t be,” he reminded her in the same sugary tone. “Y/n isn’t drinking either.”

There was a pause where it seemed like Maya was weighing whether or not that was a valid response. You decided it didn’t even fucking matter to you what she thought. And at T he perfect time, you heard Stevie approach your legs with a meow.  So, you took advantage of her seeking you out and lifted her to sit in your lap. Of course, the cat relaxed easily against your crossed legs (because, thankfully, you could still do that – well, barely). 

But when you heard a hushed voice coming from Maya and Jake’s direction, you obviously had to peek over. Were they whispering about you? 

When you looked their way, you realized it was only Maya doing the whispering. Jake sat there, leaned forward towards you, on the ottoman. His hands, clasped and elbows sitting on his thighs. His eyes were cast down as she said whatever she was saying in his ear, his brows scrunched as if thinking critically over what she was saying.

You squinted at her with her mouth so close to his ear, her hair draped over her shoulder, body turned almost entirely towards him as she edged closer to him from her spot in the armchair. You could see her incredible cleavage from this vantage point. God. As you further observed, you noticed her hand was up to cover her mouth, too. Little fucking secret keeper. This was your fucking apartment – if the bitch had something to say, she needed to say it out loud. 

So, with a clenched jaw and slanted eyes, you addressed it. “You know, May–.”

“It’s fine, babe,” Jake spit out before you could say anything, his eyes flicking over to yours as if to say ‘It’s not worth it.’ “I don’t care that much. You have fun. I promise I’ll still have fun, too. Have you met my brothers? They don’t need alcohol to act like idiots. Y/n and I will get to stay in longer anyway. . . No one will even notice if we laugh,” he tried to joke.

Maya’s eyes were downcast as she rubbed Jake’s arm, squeezing his bicep. You watched her finally come over to him and drape herself over his lap, slowly going to get up for alcohol. One ass cheek sat on the ottoman next to him, and the other practically on top of his lap as she went to get up. But, before she could, you watched in horror as she rubbed salt in the wound. She cupped both hands around his cheeks and brought him over to her. And, sitting there, still petting Stevie, you got to gloomily witness Maya wrapping her lips around his. It was in the most sultry manner (or was that just her?) – laying her claim on the man whose child you held inside of you. 

Being the person on the opposite side of this made you want to fucking puke. His eyes, closing in appreciation of the kiss was icing on the damn cake. And the way his line of sight found you mid-kiss and clung to you until the end of the mini makeout . . . That was hell. The deepest, most fiery crevice of hell.

But, you didn’t fail to notice. . . he hadn’t put his hands on her during whatever that had been.

And he went to look at his phone as she left, settling back in the arm chair. He hadn’t even cared to watch her curvaceous body leave the room.

Strange.

-🌼🌼🌼- 

The giggle that erupted from Josh as he drew his card was so loud, you were certain the neighbors could hear as it echoed. He’d knocked out more than a couple of White Claws — and drank them much faster than he should have. He shook his head, full head of curls bouncing around. His hand cupped his mouth to muffle yet another boisterous laugh as he read again to himself.

“Elmo can’t believe this!” He exclaimed, chuckling afterwards as the rest of you shared tiny grins and wide eyes. Was he imitating a Sesame Street character?

And, when he started singing Elmo’s World, your theory was confirmed. You had to admit it was. . . alarming how perfectly he mimicked the red, furry character. Almost as if the puppet lived inside of him.

The theme song clashed horribly with the Earth, Wind, and Fire record Josh had chosen. You squinted at your curly haired friend, cringing just a bit at whatever he was doing. But with another impossibly high note of the song, the room broke out in snorts and snickers. All of you, trying to hide your laughter. Your cringing loosened with your body at the funniness of Josh’s theatrics.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Sam snarked, confused and clearly lacking any patience with his brother's antics. 

The rest of you were caught in a fit of giggles as Josh continued to say things as Elmo, in third person and everything. Though you were also confused as hell, you were equally impressed by his spot-on impersonation. The youngest brother leaned forward to try to nab the card from Josh, but Josh hastily brought his hand back to himself.

“My card, Sam!” Josh shouted, slapping his younger brother's hand away, still wheezy laughing. Then, he shook his head, pretending to dust off the front of the card. “What an imbecile,” he mumbled, a bit more serious to imply his annoyance with Sam.

The roll of Sam’s eyes was the most dramatic display of exasperation you’d ever seen from him, and that was certainly saying something. You tried so hard to hold back your laughter, fearful that any more pressure on your tummy would cause you to pee right on the spot. (Thanks, pregnancy.) 

“Then shut the hell up and read it,” Sam spat, impatiently waiting to move along with the game.  

“Okay, okay,” Josh started, holding his card in front of his face, pretending to adjust the invisible monocle that was (not) sitting over his left eye for an added dramatic effect. “You’re a tickle me Elmo,” he cleared his throat, attempting to hold whatever his persona was, but cracking yet another laugh after he read the words aloud. “. . . And you insist that the target tickle you, and if they do, get furious at them.” 

The room resounded with a collective “Oh!” once you all discovered the true reasoning behind his little (and terrifyingly accurate) impression. 

He held the card down just enough that his eyes peeked over the cardstock, his right eyebrow cocked as his eyes flitted around the room. “Who shall be my playmate?” He joked as he placed his hand on the bottle, spinning it with a graceful tap, just enough to land on the person sitting right beside him: Samuel.

“That’s not fair!” Sam protested, still drunk, but thankfully having been cut off from the hard stuff as soon as he’d tried to claim it at the beginning of the game. “You didn’t spin hard enough, Joshua! Not a fair spin. Do it again.”

“The bottle chooses who it chooses, brother,” Jake called from his spot, where you refused to look. 

You just settled back into Theo’s arm that was slung across the back of the couch, trying your best to be comfortable. Fake it till you make it. And when Sam straight up pouted for thirty seconds straight, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Samuel Francis,” you said his name flatly. “Just play the goddamn card with Josh. Jesus. There is definitely worse. You’re just lucky he’s not–.”

“Naming every part of my body while touching it,” Sam interrupted, locking eyes with you as he raised a brow. A mischievous grin rising under his mustache.

And as your mind rushed with the memory, you couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking to Josh’s. Of course, he was already looking at you. He knew now was not the time. You knew he knew, no matter how much he’d had to drink. And from your peripheral, you saw Danny looking at you as well. And when you looked over towards him, he was giving you a look that said ‘don’t listen to him’, which you waved off with a swat of your hand in the air and a shaky smile. 

Don’t think about it, y/n, your inner voice counseled you. Sam’s just drunk and doesn’t hold enough stock in what he’s saying for you to take it personally. Just ignore him.

“Sam.” You heard Jake sternly say his name, close to you from where he sat snugly in the armchair to your left. The seriousness in his tone made you freeze.

And this time when he spoke, you let yourself look at him. Instantly, you regretted it, seeing his arm around Maya’s shoulders. Her face, pink from how much she’d had to drink. Bitch liked to fucking laugh, apparently. 

But you just focused on how his eyes found yours for a solid ten seconds, full of fire and a sort of protection. Your heart leapt in your chest at the same time he trained his eyes, once again, on Sam. “Fuck right off and go tickle Josh,” he grit at his younger brother, eyebrows set in a straight line. “Suck it the hell up.”

-🌼🌼🌼- 

The night continued on after Sam tickled Josh’s (very creepy) version of Elmo.

After that one, you got to witness a few more hilarious rounds. You’d belly laughed at Sam imitating a bird and pecking endlessly at Josh with his nose. The way your sides hurt when Danny got to be Nicholas Cage while searching for the Declaration of Independence (Jake had been the Declaration of Independence) was incomparable. And you tried hard to not cringe when Theo had been Mickey Mouse going through withdrawals and looking for drugs that his target had (that lucky target had been Sam, once again).

Thankfully, you’d had to pee at the perfect time and got to skip your turn. But when you came back, it was Jake’s turn. It seemed as though they’d waited on you. He had just picked his card as you worked to make yourself comfortable on the couch. As comfortable as you could be, at least. It took you a moment to find the right spot, sighing with relief as you finally settled. Theo, of course, didn’t offer any help. He was oblivious to your pain, ignoring it altogether as he sat on the cushion next to you, still all giggly over his (terrible) impression of Mickey Mouse. 

But, Jake noticed your discomfort. You knew he did, you could feel him watching you. And it was confirmed for you when he spoke up, asking if you were okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said to him with a shake of your head, glancing in his direction, avoiding looking at him for too long. You knew it would hurt if you offered more than that, with the way Maya had herself wrapped around him. “Just a little hard to get comfy these days.” 

Except, when you’d heard the soft timbre in his voice as he’d moved to lean forward, over the chair’s arm to quietly check on you. . . you were, in fact, not fine. Hearing his concern for you had made it as though there were no Theo or Maya or anyone in the room. For a moment, at least.

When you broke your own little rule and looked over again, you watched as he untangled himself from Maya. And within a moment, he was situating to face you and the rest of the room on the chair’s ottoman. 

He read the card to himself, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he giggled under his breath. His beautiful teeth, on full display in a wide smile. Then, his face was suddenly serious. He was putting on a persona. You looked at him with wide eyes and a smirk, waiting for whatever this was. One of his eyebrows raised as he flourished a gesture with one hand.

“Oh, fuck no,” Josh groaned from his spot across the room. “Not the Johnny Depp. Please.”

“You’re a pirate, and your map shows where the buried treasure is,” he read aloud, using his best Jack Sparrow accent, flailing his arm and slurring together his words as though he had just downed the last sip of rum. “The bloody problem is. . . it’s in your Target’s. . .,” he paused, presumably for some sort of dramatic effect. His brow, raised, hand out in the air with a wave.

For some reason, you felt nervous. You knew, more than likely, that you two wouldn’t be partners again. Just because it was the same game as all those months ago, didn’t mean it was going to play out the same. But. . . you just had this feeling that something was about to happen. 

With a huff, you readjusted once again as your baby leaned in a way that had your back suddenly killing you. You focused on her and worked to prepare yourself for whatever this card said. (But, as you were about to discover, there was no preparing for this one.)

“There is no way the card said ‘bloody problem’,” Daniel jested with a laugh as your heart skipped a beat in odd anticipation.

“A Jake treat, as one might say,” Josh added, your pulse quickening at all of the possibilities. “The one not being me.”

You just let your eyes roll, playing off your anxiety. You repositioned your body once more. You were feeling very overheated all of a sudden, sweat accumulating in your armpits. And the most recent change in position had already begun to cause aches and pains (thank you, squirmy baby girl). 

“The treasure is in. . .,” he said again, a bit firmer for emphasis and with a glare towards the two mocking brothers. (The glare wasn’t any good for your comfortability, by the way. The irritation painted on his handsome face made your skin heat even further.) “Your target’s. . . . pants,” he finished. The room shot off in laughter, while you nervously scratched at your scalp. You were silently panicking inside your mind.

Fuck. 

He held the card between his middle and index fingers, then flicked it across the room before reaching his hand to the bottle. (Why was that so fucking sexy?) You clenched your fists, your jaw, everything as the bottle was spinning, slowly contemplating the fate of the soul it would choose as Jake’s victim. 

Please no. Please no, you thought, looking away from its slowing spin. The idea that not watching it would somehow deter it from landing on you, asinine. (As if it fucking worked that way.)

But, when you heard the glass slide to a stop, and heard the collective gasp from everyone in the room, you fucking knew.

When you turned back to the bottle, in all of its glory, you found it pointing right at you.

It could’ve landed on anyone else. Literally anyone, but it chose you. Wonderful. 

“Looks like you’re up!” Sam teased, thankfully breaking the tension in the room, the gasps turning into little laughs from the others. 

But there was no laughing for you. . . . not for Jake, either. You both sat still as statues, you watched him contemplate the card as his fingers messed with the hair at the back of his head. Then, they switched to flicking at his nose, and after that, smoothing out an eyebrow. 

He seemed just as nervous as you were at what this card implied. When his eyes caught yours, you felt them silently asking you if you were okay with this, as though he could sense the same nerves that brewed inside of him, brewing inside of you, too. 

Part of you wanted to break the rules, make him spin the bottle again to land on someone else. But when you glanced over to the dark haired beauty sitting next to him, you felt a red hot anger take hold. Your body felt heavy with it as she leaned up to read the card over his shoulder, her chin perched there, holding his thigh tight in her grip, from behind him. And, well, you decided to hell with it. 

“Take it away, Captain,” you responded with a courageous sense of finality (albeit a little nervously). You let your eyes float from her to him and his waiting eyes.

A shiver ran down your spine when his eyes darkened at once, just enough for you to notice. You’d seen him just like this so many times before – confident and spurred on by you. He slowly stood up, hands pushing on his thighs and smoothing down them as he cocked his chin at you. And then, he was sauntering toward you with his Jake walk that, if you were standing, would’ve surely made your knees buckle. 

Thankfully, he threw his little Jack Sparrow impression in there as he came closer and that alleviated some of your stress. For the time being.

“Permission to seek the treasures hidden in yonder trove?” He requested in the same drunken pirate voice, standing before you as you were still seated on the couch. You cracked a smile at him, finding him very funny and even more endearing. He was truly the most endearing person you’d ever met.

Then, as if he were Captain Jack himself, he held out a hand, his body wobbly and perfectly imitating the beloved character. (Oh also – this character was, unashamedly, turning you the fuck on. Or was it just Jake?)

“Permission to seek a kiss on the hand of a fair maiden, m’lady?” He slurred, eyebrow popping up, lips in a loose grin to resemble the charismatic pirate he often chose to imitate. 

You placed your hand in his, used it as leverage to begin to stand. However, before you could scoot your ass completely off the couch, he was motioning for you to stay sitting with a shake of his head. 

“You’re comfortable,” he quickly noted seriously as Jake, not as Captain Jack. He dropped your hand to point a finger down towards you and the couch. “Stay there and I’ll come to you.”

Not needing to be told twice and knees slightly shaky at the command, you looked down at your lap and decided to sit there and wait for what he had in mind. But, as you readjusted just a little, bringing your ass closer to the edge of the couch to better his. . . access to you, you heard him speak up.

“Y/n. Don’t move.”

“I’m not, Jacob,” you argued back, looking up at him. “Just getting situated.”

He huffed, his jaw tightening. You looked back down at your lap, trying to not focus on the sudden, uncomfortable quietness of the room. All night, there had been noise from his brothers, but at this moment? There was not a fucking peep. You fanned your hands out on your thighs several times, flexing your fingers against the soft skin there.

And, after a breath, he was slowly lowering himself to your level. You tried not to watch, focusing instead on your black fingernail polish. But, after a cough from Josh’s side of the room and the smell of Jake’s cologne truly encompassing you, you felt his breath fan across your forehead.

Apprehensively, you peered up to look ahead. And when you did, you were looking right into his amber-brown eyes. Your breath caught in your throat at his closeness. . . and at the fact that you were being observed by a room full of people – including your date and his very serious girlfriend. 

You prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t make you become some animalistic version of yourself. Prayed to control yourself and that he would have enough sense to control himself. He wouldn’t truly risk what he had with Maya for a silly little game and his oversensitivity for your pregnancy, would he? 

Logically, you knew it would be best to just stand up and feign sleepiness to avoid whatever this could turn into. But, realistically, you knew that would make things even more awkward and might even hurt his feelings. . . Although, you doubted that possibility as much. He wouldn’t be that seriously hurt, would he? With the way he’d switched his emotions on and off with you? 

You just stayed put – didn’t want to make anything seem too obviously weird. This was a game. 

But then — he was leaning in. 

Leaning in so surely and steadily that you feared what he was about to do. When all he did was push your hair behind your ear and put his lips close to your ear, you should’ve breathed a sigh of relief, but you couldn’t. Because you felt the eyes of everyone else as he did this. You also felt every breath from his mouth against the shell of your ear. It was making you feel light as air and heavy as a brick house all at once. 

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear, the words feeling dark against your neck. 

And when he pulled back, he was winking at you as if you were the only two in the room. Yet again, paying no mind to his girlfriend who was only feet away. He definitely wasn’t considering your guest who was even closer. Goddammit, Jacob. 

“Be careful,” you mouthed, your eyes which held his, leaving no room for disagreement. 

All he did was smirk in response, pulling himself back just enough that he could sit on his knees before you. And before you knew it, his palms were flush against your thighs. Simultaneously, he was gripping the smooth skin and caressing it, working his way upwards until he met the crease between your thigh and hip on both legs.

And — his hands were under your shorts. Under your motherfucking shorts in front of Maya, God, and everybody. The way the pads of his calloused thumbs traced the gentle crease there set your skin on fire. You knew you were blushing – felt it from your face all the way down to your chest. Without any control over yourself, you aided in his journey, spreading your legs apart for him. 

At that, you heard his breath hitch and you glanced up at him, catching his dark irises in a steely stare of your own. His eyes were blazing with the intensity of the moment – he looked like a man starved. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You were just waiting for your fucking monitor to alert you of a spike in your heart rate. To break this up. But, from what you could hear, it hadn’t made a single beep. Shocking.

The way his thumbs continued to apply pressure to the semi-secret place between your hip and thigh made your head spin and your panties wet. You tilted your head to the side slightly, felt your core flexing around nothing, throbbing for him and his touch. You breathily sighed through your parted lips as the pads of his thumbs edged closer and closer to your center. 

At their own will, your hips lifted off the couch, your body, not allowing you any grace, and begging for his touch. His thumbs hesitantly grazed the seam of your underwear, the only thing preventing his fingers from going where you desired them most. 

Another cough from Josh’s side of the room. 

Fuck it all. Not here. Not here. Not here. 

Why had no one laughed? To stop this? Whatever. You’d do the best you could to get both of you in the right state of mind. Didn’t know how well it would work with your brain all fuzzy, but you’d try.

“Jake,” you began, his name coming out as a moan more than the authoritative tone you intended. So, you tried again. “Jake.”

Suddenly, he was frozen, his hands halting their movements as you caught one another’s eyes. You stared him down until he understood – you had to stop. Like. . . What the actual fuck? What was the point in stopping the kitchen escapade earlier if you were just going to do it, on purpose, in front of everyone?! Thankfully (or not-so), after a few seconds, he removed his hands as if he’d been burnt. Where was Josh’s saving laughter?! God.

Before you could grieve the loss of his touch too heavily, his fingers were back on your legs. So he wasn’t going to completely stop. He did have a task. And you knew damn good and well he intended to finish it with the way he’d been attracted to your body as of late. He began by gripping the middles of your thighs, coming towards you to whisper in your ear yet again. 

“They’re all drunk anyway,” he reassured so very quietly, his words fanning over your ear, hair still tucked behind your ear from before.

Then the calloused tips of his fingers began their venture back up towards the treasure trove. Your shorts. He still had a damn treasure to find. In your pants. 

This time, he began by grazing the waistband of your shorts, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index for a moment. You gasped when they made unexpected, gentle contact with the skin of your round, pudgy lower tummy.  Your eyes flew to his, which were watching your face carefully.

He chuckled breathlessly at your response, his eyes not quite as dark. They were wide and genuine as he lopsidedly grinned at you, lips once more at your ear for a brief moment. “I love this belly – love our baby who’s moving inside.”

The tears that sprang to your eyes were inevitable at the talk of your tummy and his baby. One little tear dared to fall, and you reached one finger up quickly to catch it, so as not to make this any more than it needed to be. Tears would indicate you were feeling more than a game called for. To balance yourself, you quickly placed the hand behind you to brace against the couch once more. 

Then, his nimble fingers were traveling lower. Your legs were still spread wide enough for him to have proper access. You couldn’t utter a word when his thumb purposefully brushed your lower tummy once more, the other four digits of both hands creeping just the slightest bit into the waistband of your shorts at your hips. You looked down, then up to him — catching his eyes still meeting yours. The proximity was close, close enough that you could’ve kissed him easily without needing to lean down more than an inch. 

It was at that moment you felt the air leave the room. When his fingers crept low enough that you felt them graze your bare hips and ass, grabbing at the skin there the best he could. He was underneath your damn underwear. He wasn’t fucking playing around with this treasure. His thumbs stayed near the front of your shorts, the best they could with your little belly in the way.

You wanted so badly to forget this fucking game and lead him somewhere more private, away from peering eyes. His face was suddenly coming towards you again, lips brushing your ear. “Miss your body so much, baby.”

Your lids lowered at those words, a huff brushing past your lips. Every single word resonated. You missed him. Your body needed him.

It also came to your realization that he hadn’t used the piratical voice once since getting on his knees. Every time he’d whispered in your ear, it had been simply Jake. It wasn’t about the game any longer. Hadn’t been this whole time, you’d bet. His lips stayed against your ear as his fingers continued to massage the flesh at your hips and the crest of your ass, shaky breaths exhaling against you as you kept your breathing in time with his. 

And it was almost as if he’d forgotten about the game altogether when he slipped his thumbs much lower to match the other fingers’ placement. The pads of his thumbs now resting against your underwear. He wasn’t going to go underneath where you wanted him underneath most, apparently. Fucking tease.

Though, he didn’t let the underwear stop the gentle movements of his thumbs. His thumbs were playing dangerously close to the spot he’d been nestled so many times before. You gasped, the sound turning into a tiny moan as he began tapping his thumbs just the slightest bit at your clit over your thong. Your breath caught in your tightening throat, and when he looked up at you, full smirk and a glimmer about his eyes, your body started to tremble, every inch of you heating in a very familiar way. 

Was it beginning to go too far? Absolutely. But if you were truthful about it, you just didn’t care. Not anymore. The room had gone silent moments ago – you knew everyone was watching, and you hoped to fuck that Maya was watching. But you also knew how wrong that was. How wrong it was that you didn’t care the way you should’ve, how wrong it was that this was happening in the first place. 

He placed his mouth on your ear once more, a groan escaping him at the same time you felt your sensitive nub pulsate against his finger. “X marks the spot?” He heatedly spoke against your ear, in a whisper that only you could hear as his thumb pressed just so. So close.

The sigh you pushed past your lips with the crinkle of your brow made you believe a certain something was very near, your core grasping at nothing as your clit hardened familiarly. 

Just then, Josh made an obnoxiously loud and unnatural display of clearing his throat. It was quickly followed by an overly boisterous cackle – an obvious attempt at putting an end to this.  

Your body jolted, but you couldn’t move as your breath came out in short puffs. Jake hadn’t moved an inch, steady, mouth still at your ear. You were so close. So fucking close. The slightest bit of release trickled into your panties, but not enough. Not what you needed. Not the precipice you longed for. Only a teasing little gesture from his knowing fingers to your wanting body. 

Jake’s eyes found yours one more time, begging you to feel what he was feeling. His irises were nearly covered by his pupils, so dark. Only seconds before both of you jumped at the next interruption.

“O-KAY, I’d say you found it, Jacob!” Josh blurted. At this, you forced yourself back to reality. You shook your head inexplicably at the same time that Jake removed his hands, placing them instead on his thighs where he was still kneeling in front of you. 

The loss of his touch reminded you where the fuck you were. The nasty slap of reality – the reality of the game. And worse. . . the mocking reality that Jake was not yours. Lest your round never stop.

“NEXT?” Josh shouted once more, and just as swiftly, Jake was shooting up from his spot, also having been yanked back to the real world. 

Jake shuffled away from you and didn’t dare go anywhere near Maya before he was jetting off to the bathroom. He’d been basically a blur before all of your eyes, barely giving a second thought to it all.

When Josh got up to (awkwardly) pass the deck to Maya for her turn (the last one to go), you kept your eyes trained on Josh (who hadn’t looked at you yet). You were not going to look at Maya. You hated how you felt just as guilty as you did deserving. But the guilt was definitely crawling up your spine. He’d just had his hands down your pants with his girlfriend sitting right there. Who wouldn’t feel bad?

Looking over with worried eyes to the room’s other guests, you saw Danny and Sam simply looking at you with their mouths hung wide open in shock or amazement or both? Fuck. You must’ve given a damn show. Their eyes cleared slightly when you looked at them and their gaping mouths turned into uncomfortable laughs as they looked at each other with a little giggle and raised brows.

Before you could look to see Josh’s expression, you heard Theo clear his throat beside you. And, you suddenly remembered just how close he’d been to witness all of. . . that. And you felt more than a little rude for doing that in front of him when you’d invited him over tonight. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, you still had. You’d extended an invitation he’d been very excited about. Then, right beside Theo, you’d let another man work your body like his goddamned guitar.

Ashamed as you were, you still worked up the courage to scoot back and next to him once again. He was sitting stock still, hands clasped tightly in his lap as he stared down at them. His foot, tapping uncontrollably. You observed him for a minute, contemplating what to say (Maya, still not saying what card she’d drawn – probably waiting for Jake). Ultimately, you went with a basic apology – didn’t know what else to freaking say or do. 

“Theo,” you spoke quietly to him, placing an uneasy hand on his thigh. He flinched under your touch, but didn’t move. You stared at his profile, willing your voice to express genuinely. “I’m sorry you had to– I’m sorry that–the card. . .,” you trailed off, suddenly blanking on something to say. Fuck. 

Because, honestly, it really had been the game. Yeah, you’d both taken it too far. But it was a game, ultimately. And did Theo deserve an apology for that? Were you so much of a bitch that you were beginning to question if he deserved one? Damn. How did you say sorry for someone else’s actions and the card he’d pulled, not of his own choosing? To someone who wasn’t your boyfriend?

The actions were his choosing, an annoying voice lulled in the back of your mind. But you were the one who readily responded and fucking moaned. 

“I’m just– sorry, I guess,” you ended up saying, hand still sitting atop his thigh. Sorry you guess?! When had you become such a bitch? “Seriously,” you tried to add. “I’m sorry that the card was what it was.”

And, it worked. Because his eyes immediately found yours after the words. And, although he still looked like he’d been stung, his lips curved into a smile. 

“The card wasn’t your fault,” he said semi-easily, using a hand to brush it off. Though, he was still fidgety, moving to hold your hand in his clammy one. As much as you didn’t want to hold his hand at the moment, you let it happen. Figured it was the least you could do. Fake it till you make it. “It was just. . . a lot to see. But, things happen. It’s just a game,” he said, more to himself than to you, nodding his head in reassurance.

You did the same, a tiny smile perking your lips. He could be pretty sweet when he felt like it. You were grateful for how he was responding to it all. It helped your shoulders to release the tiniest bit of tension. . . because there was still someone in the room who’d been too quiet since the. . . occurrence. There would be no surprise if she was pissed at you (granted, she should’ve been angrier at Jake, but that wasn’t how brains worked – it was always the other person who took the heat). So, when you finally got the gall to look over, you found her staring straight ahead. Her legs, easily crossed due to no pregnant belly and arms also crossed. Her new card was sitting in front of her, face down, waiting to be read. 

She was nowhere near ready to play it, though. Not with how her freshly manicured fingers harshly lilted against her arm and how her tongue worked side to side angrily in her mouth, bouncing from one tense cheek to the other. Her perfectly full lips, pursed and freshly chapstick-ed. 

And Jake was still not out of the bathroom yet. 

Going in completely blind at what you should say, you just started speaking. Hoped something good would come out. “Um,” you began, turning the slightest bit to face her. You tucked one foot under your thigh, trying to find a good position to be comfortable and confident. She still wasn’t looking at you as you continued. “I’m– I don’t know what that looked like, but–.”

“It looked like I was about to witness that baby being made for the second time over,” she bit out, her lips still pursed tightly and her fingers squeezing tight on her biceps. Still wasn’t looking at you. 

Your teeth ground together at the way she’d referenced your baby. ‘That baby?’ The tone she’d used when she’d spoken of the tiny girl you held safely inside of you every damn day. . . Uh-uh. You were not the one. 

But, you tried, once more, to be kind. For Jake. “It wasn’t anything. Jake and I–.”

“Were ‘just friends’ who got ‘fucked up one night and had sex that resulted in a baby’?” She scoffed, flipping her hair to the side, arms crossing once more after her air quotes. She turned in her spot to look at you. 

Her eyes were fiery, but you’d beg to differ that yours carried even hotter flames. Fuck this bitch.

“Wait– Jake– Is he–?” Theo tried to question, but Maya cut him off.

Thank God, honestly. You didn’t want to explain all of it to him right now.

Maya’s eyes scrutinized you – in your home. “Yeah. . . y/n. Don’t try,” she sighed, annoyed with you. Her nose flared as her lips, fuller due to (presumably) incredible injections, puckered. “Jake already fed me that shit. But what I saw tonight? I’m taking that ‘just friends’ line as utter bullshit.”

Well. What in the hell could you say that would even remotely get her off your damn case? The entire room was dead silent. The complete silence was how you knew Jake was done in the bathroom – you’d heard him washing his hands and you heard the exact moment he walked back into the room. You could literally hear his feet padding back into the living room. It was that quiet. 

You watched him, his view downcast as he ran a hand through his hair. He flicked at his nose, smoothed his brow. And in the same few seconds, he was once again nudging his nose before quickly wiping at his left eye. He was jittery. Nervous. Upset. And he wasn’t looking anywhere near you. It made your heart break and your eyes water.

“Maya, babe. I don’t know what the fuck just happened,” he began to say, finally looking at her. He went to sit back down on the ottoman, facing her. “I don’t want you to think—.”

You decided to drive the point home yourself. “It was nothing, Maya. Jake and I. . . we were nothing,” you broke in, thankfully gaining her eyes once more. As you looked directly into her eyes, you did your damned best to not look at Jake. Didn’t know how you’d do with looking at him at the present moment.

You wanted to say your piece—have the upper hand. Before he could say anything even the slightest bit hurtful. Your heart was getting pulled side to side. It didn’t matter at this point how true what you were going to say was. 

Someone just needed to diffuse the fucking tension before it tore the entire room in half. Also, you had to fucking pee again. And you weren’t about to not have the last word. Fuck Maya. Truly. Fuck her. But you were still determined to say one more thing. For Jake — to save what he had with the stunning woman. 

You continued on, your voice surprisingly serious and indescribably stable. “It was just a stupid mistake one night that resulted in a beautiful life. Whatever the fuck just happened was for the game.” Then, you got an idea. Perfect explanation. “Jack Sparrow is a ladies man, as we all know. Jake was just playing up the part. He doesn’t actually want me like that.”

Why you cared so much to save a relationship that made you want to simultaneously punch a brick wall and lay in bed rotting all day. . . you didn’t know. You just knew it was for Jake. He was happy with her. He had been happy with her before he knew about the baby and you weren’t about to ruin that for him. You’d done enough damage.

Even if he was the one that had just done. . . that in front of everyone. The truth was: you couldn’t be together, but you ached for him. You wanted to be more. You just couldn’t be. He needed Maya’s stability. Not your irrationality and baggage. You were giving him a child. That was it. It had to be. 

“. . .And I don’t want him like that,” you stated plainly. Strong. “We share a baby. That’s it.”

And as the terrible words slipped past your lips, all you could think was no. That wasn’t fucking ‘it’. You wanted it all. And he seemed so oddly transfixed by you – was it just because of pregnancy? The fact that you were having his baby? Was it something else? You didn’t fucking know. Didn’t need to know. 

All you knew was that you cared for him so much that you had to make him think he’d meant nothing to you. He still needed to move on from the idea of you. Needed to stop the touches, the laying in bed together, the talk of jealousy. . . stolen moments in the car, in his bedroom, in the kitchen, and apparently now in front of people. 

A group of people that had included his girlfriend. Godammit, it needed to stop. You had to be the level head. Fucked up that the overly hormonal pregnant woman who cried at the drop of a hat had to do the hard work of denying it. . . But. . . Someone had to.

“She’s right, My,” Jake mumbled, trying to keep it private between the two of them. But, considering the dead silence, everyone else was privy to the words. And you were aware of the hardness in his tone, like he wasn’t sure he believed what he was saying. But, he was saying it. So he at least wanted to mean it. 

You looked down, not wanting anyone to see the tears brimming your eyes. Just in case one might fall, you wanted to immediately catch it. Tears wouldn’t do anything for you. They were just annoying – made you bare your emotions in a way you hated. 

“We were never anything. Still aren’t,” he let out a cough, breaking out into a ridiculous fit of them for a few seconds. It was enough to make your head raise with concern, watching him carefully as Maya patted at his back, trying to help him steady himself. You wanted so badly to help him. Why was he choking up?

“I believe you, babe,” she muttered as he gained a breath – finally. “It was just the character. I should’ve assumed. I know you better than to think you’d still be hung up on all of it.”

“There’s nothing to be hung up on,” he let out, coughing one last time, covering his mouth with a fist. And it was then, as he raised his head, you realized the coughing had perhaps been a cover. You’d bet money on it. His eyes were threatening to spill tears, too. They were already red-rimmed. You hadn’t even noticed. . . had he been crying in the bathroom? Over her? Over you? Both? The baby? Dammit, Jake. “Y/n and I aren’t a thing. Never have been, never will be.”

Fuck. It was a damned stab to the heart. Your skin fucking crawled at the words, throat tightening. You had to leave the room as soon as possible before you revealed your own level of emotion to everyone, just as Jake’s eyes revealed his if anyone looked close enough. Your eyes were still leaking, your fingers (surprisingly) catching every single tear that came – and there were many. But you still needed to pee and you wanted to cry where no one could see you. 

Just then, you heard Sam let out a loud honk of a laugh to your right, making your skin turn hot and you sniff the tears away the best you could to momentarily look over at him. You were grateful for the interjection as it assisted in bringing you back to the present time.

“I understand,” she laughed, playing like she hadn’t been worried for a second. So self-assured. And then, she was speaking again. To you. “Oh, and y/n.” 

Quickly, you sniffed once more and found her haughty glare. Bitch. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you only lifted your brows with a hum to show her you were listening.

“It’s really whatever. I overreacted. I need you to know. . .I know it doesn’t go past the baby for him. I was just. . . in shock,” she casually responded, her voice all Valley again. As she checked her nails, you knew she was being way too nonchalant for the way her face had transformed during the game. She was covering. Faking, and acting like a cocky bitch while she did it. “It was shocking to see, that’s for sure. Considering. . .,” she trailed off, pushing jet black hair behind her ear with one hand while the other gestured to your tummy. “Sex made baby – even if it was only one night, you guys have had sex, so. . . Just made me a bit uncomfy, hun.”

Hun. Again? Fuck off, bitch. 

Jesus. You were over plastic women for the day. And this one you couldn’t get rid of like you could the nurse. The scoff and roll of your eyes had been stark and apparent. Even if you were going to carry on with the lie that you and Jake had only had sex once (laughable), you were not okay with her speaking down to you. Fuck that shit. 

Thankfully, Danny broke in, making it a conversation rather than an awkward personal confrontation in front of a group. “The game is very sexual. . . Guess I’ve never realized,” Daniel added. He was really trying to lighten the mood you were sure he felt taking over the room. . . everyone felt it. The air was so tight it could’ve been popped with a pin. “Just makes things look like they’re not,” he assured both Maya and Theo. You didn’t miss the quick look he threw your way, his kind eyes focusing on you for a breath. Danny wasn’t stupid. He understood. But he was assisting in the little white lie to help all parties involved. Took Maya’s eyes from you, you noticed as you glanced her way. 

When you looked over at Daniel again, he was cracking a smile with his last words, “Think of it this way: that could have easily been Sam doing that shit to me.” 

“I wish!” Sam drunkenly responded, laughing so hard his already-drooping body collided with Daniel’s side, making the taller one fall slightly. Both of them were woozy – Sam much more-so, but Danny wasn’t all there anymore. Danny did the best he could to sit both of them up straight with a shake of his head and his own chuckle.

“The point of the game is literally just to embarrass each other,” Josh tried. “It’s not about sex entirely.”

“Of course it is!” Sam encouraged, using his hands to billow out around him as if he were making an imaginary rainbow. “Everything is sex and we’d be idiots to think we aren’t surrounded by the concept of sex all the fucking time. I mean, pregnancy itself is a reminder that sex is more than a social constru–.”

“Just because we’re surrounded by it–because you know I believe that shit,” Josh quickly broke in, saving the room from going down that path again. Thank you, Joshy, you sent a quiet smile his way and he just winked at you as Danny had. He continued, “It doesn’t mean we need to play games intentionally putting people in these types of scenarios.”

“Especially with couples involved, guys,” Theo added. His words made you duck your head again, squeezing your eyes shut. Did he think you were already a couple? Why did that idea make you nauseous? It made you want to hide in a fucking hole. “It’s not okay to play a game that forces couples into awkward situations. We all just want to have fun. Do something we all enjoy.”

“It was Sam’s night,” you quietly spoke up from your hunched position, leaning up a little to say more. “We played it because Sam loves it.”

“Maybe next time we choose something else,” Theo said in a belittling tone, as if explaining a foreign concept to a toddler. “Think of others,” he glanced over at Sam. 

Next time? And why the fuck did he think he had the right to talk down to Sam? He barely knew him and it was public-fucking-knowledge that he was feeling down tonight. 

“Well,” Sammy started, looking over at Theo with a raised brow and a dry smirk. “What do you propose we do for the rest of the night, new guy?”

“Mm,” your date started, tapping his chin. Then, he cheesily held a finger up, getting an idea. “Maybe a movie?”

Okay. You’d officially decided this conversation could be handled without you. So, standing shakily, you had to put a hand on the arm of the couch to balance. As you were looking down, you noticed a hand reaching out to offer stability. A familiar one. One wearing a hair-tie ring on his middle finger. 

But you ignored it, instead sniffling once more and making your way to the bathroom. With a baby pressing down on your bladder, there was rarely time for more than a couple stops. And you’d waited a damn long time to get through that confrontational-discussion-thing  already. Pee was just daring to drip down your legs and you were not about to add that to the list of shit from tonight. 

Once you were there, you wasted no time shutting and locking the door and sitting on the toilet as soon as your shorts were down. Your hands floated to your tummy as you sat there contemplating it all. There was simply too much to put into words. All you knew at this moment was that the baby girl inside of you was a little piece of joy. And before she arrived, you were going to begin trying your best to focus on positives. 

So, with one more sniffle and a blow of your nose into toilet paper, you came to the conclusion that you had to try. And a tiny good start was that someone had replaced the roll of TP with a brand new one, rather than having you have to grab for one. A positive.

Though, when you went to throw away the piece of toilet paper you’d blown your nose into, you double-glanced at what you found in the trash can. The reason you’d had a new roll of toilet paper. Because, well, the extensive amount of toilet paper in the trashcan, covered in. . . release told you exactly what the fuck Jake had done in here only minutes ago. 

And that thought alone got in the way of the joy train. Had he been thinking of you when he’d–? He had to have been, right? But then he’d come out, so ready to deny anything ever being more between the two of you. 

You did it, too, y/n, a small, soft voice reminded you at the back of your mind. Maybe he was scrambling for a lie just like you were.

You just hated the lying. The games. The touching. The wanting. The needing. The crying over it all. The thoughts prompted by his used tissues had you sitting against the bathtub before going back out. Sitting against the bathtub while sniffling again, losing more tears, and blowing your nose into a tissue one more time. 

What in the fucking hell had your life become?

-🌼🌼🌼- 

You didn’t know what the fuck you were thinking when you ended up walking Theo back to your room. Truly. The whole fake it till you make it bullshit was leading you into territory you weren’t sure you liked.

The only explanation you could conjure up was that he’d had his arm around you all night, after you’d come out of the bathroom all vulnerable. And, well, you’d done your damn best to only focus on all things Theo after the mini emo-episode in the bathroom. 

You’d had to force yourself to focus on other things. And, it seemed now you were going the extra mile to force a feeling. You had to try this. Just to see if this one last resort could take your mind off of Jake. It had been a plain impulsive act to take Theo to your bedroom and try it as soon as everyone had finally dozed off. 

And, honestly, your body had still been (obviously) thrumming with adrenaline from your challenge with Jake during that blessed game. You’d had no relief with Jake (thankfully – that would have been embarrassing as fuck). It had all ended terribly. But, all night, any time you thought of Jake’s thumb tapping and circling over your clothed clit, you’d focus on the man who had his arm around you. Just tried ridiculously hard to channel every single bit of that tense energy into imagining Theo on top of you rather than Jake. 

It was hard to do, but it was healthier that way. For all parties involved, Theo was the option that made moral sense. 

Though, at this moment, with his fingers between your legs and his lips on your neck. . . you completely regretted the idea of coming to your room. You didn’t want this with Theo – especially with Jake’s baby in your belly. The thought actually made tears spring to your eyes. (Shocking, right?)

But, you were determined to keep trying to have a nice time. You were trucking on until you could at least fake an orgasm. You knew for damn sure it wasn’t going to turn into any more than this tonight, though. 

The whole thing felt like a scam to you. You felt like your body was a hollow shell around you, the only thing keeping you grounded was the baby you shared with another man. A man who was polar opposite than the one currently fingering you. Once the orgasm had been faked, you knew you’d be ready to fall asleep. You were carrying a human life, after all. And your effort to keep up an act had you fading fast anyhow. 

You also really hated the fact that you were stark naked. Theo seeing you this way didn’t get you all hot and bothered. Made you feel pretty gross, honestly. But he’d been very keen on stripping you of all your clothes as soon as your door had latched closed behind him. At the same moment, you’d still been excited – leaping towards him for an open-mouthed kiss (you’d been really desperate for this little experiment to work). 

It hadn’t taken long to figure out the biggest reason why he’d wanted your clothes off. Not with the way his hands had immediately found your engorged breasts. . . . You couldn’t blame him – the big boobs that accompanied your pregnant body were pretty easy to look at. 

He’d paused at the small heart monitor piece on your chest. But you’d just given him a shrug and said, without a shred of patience for his hesitance, “I’m tracking my heart right now. Take me or leave me.”

You didn’t care enough about him to care what he thought. And you didn’t want his hands on you if he was going to be weird about it. But, he’d just shook his head in return, not saying anything before pulling you closer. At first, Theo’s hands holding your ever-aching boobs felt okay – a little better than okay, actually. Even if they hadn’t felt like what you needed, they’d done the trick for a small while. 

But at this point? It had been a long, grueling twenty minutes of him holding them. Fondling them. Non-stop. One hand bounced back and forth between your boobs, while the other worked real hard to get you off with alternating pointer and middle fingers. Right off the bat, you’d had to stop him from playing with your nipples – it didn’t feel right at all for him to do that. But you’d let him play with the rest. 

Goodness gracious – you couldn’t help but wince with one particular twist of the football player’s meaty finger. His fingers were really thick. . . like, uncomfortably thick. They were on hands that truly belonged to a college athlete. 

Your specific preference was a guitar player’s fingers. . . . They just felt nice. There was no comparison to the way those purposeful, calloused fingers made you feel. . . they were a stark contrast to the way these sausage fingers had you clawing at your bedsheets for some sort of relief. You wanted to enjoy this. . . So badly, you wanted to enjoy this. This needed to work so it could be a distraction from your baby daddy. 

But God – the feeling of his one, too-big finger was absolutely grating. . . He kept spitting on your folds, trying to keep you wet. But everything he tried was to no avail. He hadn’t tried well at all to get your body to open up for him. So, at this point, your body continued to jostle, dry and sore, with his eager motions. He was very big and muscular, which made him handle you like a bit of a rag doll. (That had been the only hope of turning you on in all of this.) 

“Oh, yes, Theo,” you exaggeratedly sighed as he continued to pump his finger, running your hands down your cool sheets. Everyone was asleep, it didn’t matter how loud you were – and you needed to sell it.

You had to admit that at the moment, you were working on getting nominated for a damn Oscar with your sounds and facial expressions. Despite his terrible talent in bed, you were doing a really incredible job at convincing him you felt good. You even threw in a little sigh and moan every now and then. 

If you were him, you were sure you’d be convinced that you were doing a damn good job. 

“Yes,” you encouraged half-heartedly, sleepy and anxious to be done. “Just like that. Juuust like that.”

At your words of affirmation, he went a little harder. The tips of his fingers kept connecting with your cervix in a most uncomfortable way. It was making your stomach twist in pain and your eyebrows furrow with discomfort. Yeah, you were not going to fake it through that. You couldn’t.

“That-that hurts,” you mumbled, gripping his thick blonde hair. 

When you said that, he slowed to a much more acceptable pace and gave your cheek a little peck. Afterwards, going back to kissing and breathing way too hotly on your neck. Your neck that was barely sweaty, not being worked up in the slightest anymore. As he continued his little rotation of terrible patterns, you continued to hold onto his head. It added to the effect. 

You kept him close, but all you truly wanted to grab onto were long, wavy locks of chestnut brown hair. The ends of Jake’s  long hair would have surely clung to his tanned, broad shoulders – sweaty from exertion. 

Theo’s hair was still perfectly styled, his scalp not sweaty from hard work in the slightest. He wasn’t doing nearly enough – he was just pushing really hard and twisting in the wrong ways. He also kept trying to add another finger that just did not belong inside of you. It was like your body kept closing up every time he tried. 

Good looking out, body, you thought with a cringe as he tried yet again. 

“Just one finger,” you tugged on his hair. His hair, shorter than Jake’s and not quite as full as Jake’s either. 

God, why did you keep thinking of Jake?! Correct, this wasn’t enjoyable at all, but it didn’t mean you needed to be wistfully thinking of Jake at the same time. Jake and Theo were two completely separate people. Totally different in more ways than you could count. 

Their talents in bed are definitely different, your subconscious picked. We know who does a better job at this for sure.

You could have flicked the little devil in your head to the side, but the voice did have a point. What you were experiencing right now was nothing compared to the miraculous shit that had gotten you into your life-bearing predicament in the first place. That otherworldly sex was undoubtedly leaps and bounds beyond whatever Theo thought he was doing for you. 

Speaking of which, he was making his way back down your body. Now, facing your pussy. Most probably about to spit on it again. You kept a hand laced in his hair as you continued to fake breathy moans, even going so far as to groan his name. 

“You almost to the finish line?” He grunted the words from where he’d positioned himself at your raw, sahara-dry center. “Seems like you take a while to get there, babe. ‘S a lotta work for one guy. Almost done?”

‘A lotta work’? ‘Almost done’?! The ‘finish line’?!

What the fuck kind of conversation was this to be having? And why was he saying it like he was just shooting the breeze? Your legs were wide open, pussy fully exposed in front of his face. And he was complaining. Also. . . ‘babe’?! What the fuck.

This fake orgasm needed to happen soon. You were so done with whatever was happening between your legs. Without caring to respond, within seconds, you started amping it up. Your first act was grasping the sheets below your hands tighter. Your toes curled against the sheets as you brought your legs closer together. Your head, thrown back as you moaned louder than before, breathily exclaiming his name in tandem with the pace of his fingers.

You worked to clench your core around his fingers, continuing your praise of him with scattered, urgent ‘yes, yes, yeses.’ 

And, as soon as you sighed with finality and let your body relax, he removed his fingers. The minute he did that, you were ready to grab a giant t-shirt from your dresser and some underwear. You needed to go pee first. But as soon as you could, you were going to come back to bed and let sleep find you. He would just have to understand.

“I have to pee,” you said, moving as quickly as you could to the edge of the bed. 

Thankfully, the bulky man had enough sense to move out of your way, flipping onto his back on the opposite side of the bed. And, when you made it to your dresser to put clothes on, you did not like what you saw in the mirror to your dresser. Theo, with a too-proud smirk on his face as he watched you from his spot in bed. 

Ugh. No. You did not want that. You wanted Jake in that spot, like he’d been before. Jake, lying there naked under your covers – the most beautiful reflection for your mirror. Your stomach tangled at how Jake had eyefucked you that morning, as you’d attempted to put on clothes. 

You’d just found a pair of black panties, slipping them on hastily before yanking on a pair of pajama shorts that had been laying on the ground. Your hair was next, getting tied up into a quick ponytail. Then, you’d made the mistake of looking in the mirror. The bed was perfectly placed in the mirror’s path, and the sight from the bed had made your breath catch in your throat.  

Jake, in your bed, his long hair, still messy from sleep and sex. . . his deeply set, tired eyes. . . tanned skin, the perfect shade of brown after hours spent in the summer sun. The sight that had reflected back at you made your heart race. You’d caught your breath, taking in a sharp breath. One elbow, holding him up, while the other worked under the sheets. . . his eyes, lust-filled and appreciating your exposed thighs. 

Quickly, you’d abandoned your hair, deciding to not ignore the need that thrummed between your thighs, making your heart beat wildly in your chest. With him laying there looking like that, how could you refuse? His defined pecs and tight biceps had flexed with each pump of his fist. His dick, disappointingly hidden by the covers. 

In the blink of an eye, you’d been on top of him, as he’d deliciously stretched you, opening you up for him.

Fuck it all. You could’ve slapped a hand to your forehead. Your life was a damn joke. In the present time, you averted your eyes from the mirror, not wanting the image of Theo, in the same spot as Jake, in your mind. 

When you got your underwear up your legs, you decided shorts were a good idea. Didn’t want him looking at your body anymore. Then came the giant t-shirt. Hide hide hide.

You heard a groan of upset from your bed, but he was smart to not say anything. If he opened his mouth right now, you didn’t know what you would say. Because, well, you were pissed at life. This was not the reality you wanted, but it was what you’d been so graciously gifted. 

You chose this, y/n, your voice of sense reminded you. You brought this on yourself.

Seriously. Your life was one giant laughing stock.

The tears that sprung to your eyes were definitely expected with the night and the hormones. But, you really weren’t so sure anymore that all of the tears could be blamed on the hormones. Even if you didn’t have the hormonal parade inside of you, you were pretty sure you’d be just as sad. Just as angry. Equal parts angry and sad. All of it was enough to make any ‘normal’ girl cry. 

You made sure your back was to Theo and face out of the mirror when you let the first teardrop fall. There weren’t many of them, but a few easily slid down your cheeks as you went to open your bedroom door. But, hand on the knob, you hastily wiped at your face with your free hand. You didn’t want anyone seeing you like this. Especially one person. . . the last thing you wanted was Jake’s pity. Granted, Jake was probably asleep, Maya most likely wrapped in his arms.

Today had started off so well with him. . . but the way you’d ended it? Stupid stupid stupid. 

Before you left your room, your stomach dropped. What you’d just done. . . it just made you feel icky. Bad. Disgusting. Like a damned fraud. You honestly detested that you’d done it. To your utter dismay, you knew it was safe to say this little experiment of yours was already blowing up in your face. There was no convincing yourself that Theodore was who you wanted. Not at-fucking-all.

Not when Jake Kiszka existed.

“Hey, y/n,” Theo called to you from the bed, louder than you wanted him. 

You turned around to him, eyes big with a finger pressed to your lips. “What?” You whisper-spoke back. “Be quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head with his brows furrowed, sitting up a bit better, balancing on his elbows. You noticed when he’d shaken his head, his hair stayed in one place due to being a shorter length. Disappointing. “Um. . . tonight. Maya said. Um,” he trailed off, trying to subtly flex his too-big arms. You were proud of yourself that you hadn’t rolled your eyes at him yet. “Is Jake. . . is he. . .? The baby’s–?”

There was no point in hiding it anymore. You shouldn’t have in the first place anyway. That’d been childish and ridiculous. “Yes,” you shortly responded in a whisper, twisting the knob to your door. “The baby is Jake’s, yes.”                                                                                                                      

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Jake’s POV 

The moment I woke up from the fitful nap I’d fallen into, my neck hurt like hell from leaning wrong and all I knew was. . . I had to fucking piss.

There was no way I wasn’t going to pee down my leg if I didn’t get to the bathroom. 

The only problem was: Maya was sprawled out on me. Her breasts, pressed against my chest and one leg draped across my hip while the other laid on the other side of my opposite leg. She even had an arm wrapped around my torso, making it that much more difficult to move quickly. I looked around the dark living room for the one person I cared to check on first thing. It was hard to adjust my eyes, the room lit only by the menu screen from the movie we’d been watching. 

Shrek. A childhood favorite to get Sam’s spirits up. Every single person in the apartment had surely seen the movie dozens of times, so we’d all passed out rather quickly. 

But, as I scanned the room for y/n, I noticed she was absolutely nowhere to be found. And neither was her new–. 

“Oh, yes, Theo.”

What the fuck?

“Just like that. Juuust like that.”

Fuck me. What in the hell had I done to deserve hearing this?!

Well, for one, the angel on my shoulder chimed in. Forcing her to hear you with your girlfriend wasn’t the most fair thing you could’ve done. . . It was only in due time that she’d be—.

“Just one finger.” Y/n. Again. Moaning through the walls. And now I knew enough to know exactly what the prick was probably doing. 

What he was doing to the woman who who was carrying my child. His hands were on her, in her. . . He was doing things to her perfectly growing body while I was out here. Having to listen.

Now you know how she felt, the angel (who was sounding more like a devil) continued. Doesn’t feel great, huh?

The little, reasonable voice didn’t reassure me whatsoever. It just made me feel so fucking foolish and utterly disgusted at what was going on behind her door. It was my damn fault. I knew it was. And the moans and cries from y/n’s bedroom. . . Those sounds had me wanting to take back every single action I’d committed to lose her any more than I already had that day in the kitchen. Fuck.

The need to pee had vanished. Now all I felt at the current moment was anger. Spitting anger. The desire to punch a my fist hard against a fuckin’ smug-ass blonde athlete. 

Then it was another voice. It was hard to make out what he was saying, but the quietness of the apartment helped me to hear a bit of it. “. . .take a while to get there, babe. . . lotta work for one guy. Almost done?”

Babe?! And a while to get where? If he was talking about her sweet pussy— he was a goddamn moron. It never took her that long with me. And if it did by chance, I thanked God I got to worship her for just a while longer. Got to discover more ways to please her.

She was so ethereal and goddess-like. . . It was the best game—figuring out how to get her to the edge. It was the pinnacle of sexual endeavors. And he was asking if she was almost done?! God. My blood was fuckin’ boiling. As if I needed any more confirmation, I officially knew the guy was a fuck-ass idiot. 

I shifted my weight completely away from Maya, brushing an angry hand through my ever-growing hair. Needed it away from my face, which just kept getting hotter by the second. My body felt like it was on fire. My pulse was electric under my skin.

As I moved even closer to the edge of the chair, Maya snuggled up against the arm rest I was getting away from. She seemed fine. She’d be fine. But what the fuck was I even moving to do? I didn’t really have to piss that bad anymore, but I had to do something. Guess I’d fucking try to go anyway. Something to get my mind off of what was going on in y/n’s bed. Fuck that shit. Seriously.

All I could think about was her soft body falling apart at the hands of this dimwit of an asshole. Her tits, full of milk for my baby, in another man’s hands. Her belly, my baby girl, in the middle of whatever the fuck was happening. 

I couldn’t help the fire that once simmered, now burning in my chest at the thought of it all. Before heading to the bathroom, I decided on a whim to check on the lavender. One more thing to focus on. A seemingly happy thing. 

Sam had requested the twinkle lights in the living room be on for the movie, so they were an aid in seeing the plant once I got to the kitchen. There was just enough of the yellow light flooding in from the living room to the kitchen.

I’d put it back in the original terracotta, not knowing a better solution than that one. We’d kept it under the sink the same day we’d bought the white vase. And for some strange reason, seeing it in the original pot I’d given her just made my heart twist in my chest. I longed for y/n daily. Day in, day out, she was the woman I awoke and fell asleep thinking about. So badly it hurt, I felt this pulling desire for her. Before knowing about the baby, but especially now that I knew about the baby. 

What sucked, though, was I still hadn’t the faintest clue where I stood. Where she stood with me. It was all such a convoluted fucking mess. It didn’t matter what kept happening, I was so confused. I couldn’t keep up.

And so much had changed since the day so long ago when I’d given her the lavender. For one, I just kept falling for her. More and more by the day. I’d now experienced things with her that I couldn’t have dreamed of back then. 

She was my muse–the hope that had shone when I’d felt hopeless. She was the woman whose body I wanted to watch rise and fall – whether it be above me, on top of me, below me, how-fucking-ever she wanted – every single day for the rest of my life. Her body was the only temple I wished to enter endlessly. Over and over again. 

And, of course, she was the mother of my child. . . She held the light to my world in her soul and in her belly, now. And the lavender I stood before, it resembled the beginning of us for me. . . The beginning of a chapter in my life that I had to close much too soon. A chapter I never wanted to close.

After making sure the plant was thriving, I decided it was due time for me to try peeing. Getting up had kind of helped the urge to come back anyway, so. The one part I was dreading most was walking past y/n’s room to get to the bathroom. What the fuck would I hear this time? Being so close? I was about to swear to every ‘Higher Being’ – if I had to hear the bed springs squeak as I passed, I’d erupt.  

. . .Right before I could begin my begging, though, her door opened. Right as I was coming up to it to cross to the bathroom, it wedged open a bit. Just enough for y/n to slip out without her belly grazing the doorjamb, her eyes down and avoiding any sort of contact with anyone. 

I was far enough back that she was able to come out undisturbed. But as soon as she stepped fully out, she was only inches away from me and staring at my chest. Almost instantly, her eyes fluttered up to look at me. It was as if she’d been caught. 

The twinkling lights from the living room were a god-send right now as my eyes pored over her angelic face. Her eyes glowed magnificently under the splash of light from the living room into the hallway.

Though, even with the warmth in my chest at seeing her pretty face under the lights, my heart sank. Her hair was a mess, she was adjusting the big t-shirt over her body, still pulling at the collar. She’d just put on clothes. I knew my face said I was stonewalled. My jaw was tight, clenching as I let my eyes scan her exquisite, gentle features. Her plush lips, slightly agape. And her jewel-like eyes, wide and wondrous. Her long lashes fluttered, enticing me.

At the moment, all I wanted to do was read her. But, I was too concentrated on doing everything in my power to not look pissed off. It wasn’t even that I was pissed off — well, yeah. I was. Definitely. I was livid. But not at her. I didn’t want her to think I was mad at her. 

No, all I really felt was this hole in my chest screaming over conflicted emotions. I knew what I wanted — who I wanted. But we’d both fucked up our chance with the other and now we were having to hide anything we did. The sad truth was, we’d actually always hidden it. I never got to show how deeply I felt for her out in the open. 

Though for her and Theo, she could walk out of her bedroom with her hair a mess and no one would ask any questions. Even though everyone now knew that it was my baby inside of her.

What was my fucking luck in that? Had it been for our good to not work out? Were we only meant to be co-parents?  And if so, why did we keep ending up in compromising situations? 

Her wet tits in my hands in the kitchen. My instincts, going into overdrive at the thought of her hurting herself on the water and glass. The way she’d hardly seemed to think about it when she’d leaned over the console to wrap her pretty mouth around my throbbing, hot dick. 

Then there was every time I’d ended up with her in my arms, my mouth on her skin. Her eyes always seemed to observe me, wide and curious eyes, always seeming so deep in thought. She’d chosen me to take her to therapy. The care she had about hearing Maya and me fuck — obviously more than platonic annoyance. Right?

Or was I imagining that part? Did she truly only want me as a friend? Was she only acting on her desires because she was pregnant and horny? 

It was when I finally let myself get out of my own head that I realized her magnificent eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Fuck. Was she okay? Had he hurt her? Was it what had happened during the game? What was going through her mind? How was she feeling at this very second?

“Why are you awake?” Y/n whispered towards me, voice wet and bringing me out of my swirling thoughts. 

I ignored her question, instead asking her my own. “Are you okay?” I softly responded, letting my face relax just enough to let her know I was worried about her. “Why does it look like you need to cry? Did he hurt–?”

“No,” she quickly shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, right under her chest. Her nipples were hard. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Obviously. But the thought of him touching–. No. Focus, Jake. “He didn’t do anything wrong to me. I’m just–. I just. . .,” she shook her head. Her eyes were suddenly downcast. They stayed that way for a while, her gaze glued to our feet. 

It was like she was questioning every possible descriptive word to give me an inside look to her soul. So, rather than making her feel as though she had to tell me anything, I decided to carefully lift her chin with the lightest touch of two fingers underneath. And what I saw when her eyes connected with mine made my heart tear in half. 

Her cheeks, flushed with emotion and her eyes still shimmering with the same sort of longing I felt when I stared at the lavender in its original pot. How I’d felt tonight with her quivering under my hand. I’d felt that. Felt her harden for me, desperate to fall apart. It had turned me on at first, but then – it had just made me feel. . . Melancholy. 

She showed the exact same now in her eyes, the dimples at the tops of her cheeks coming out as her lip shook. A shadow of the past washed over her soft features as a few more tears traveled down her even softer cheeks. I didn’t hesitate to reach a hand up, using my thumb to stop the tracks at the apple of her left cheek, right below a dimple. 

She sniffled once, her body relaxing at my touch. Her wide eyes stayed connected with mine, her brows matching the crinkle in mine as she concentrated on me, just as I did her. I realized just how tense her shoulders had been as they relaxed with a calming breath pushing past her pretty lips. 

There was a flash of something behind her eyes, but she looked away again before I could analyze it. So, rather than standing around in her space any longer, I decided to go to the bathroom before I overstepped or bothered her any further.

But I couldn’t take more than two steps to walk away before she launched herself at me. Her arms wrapped comfortably and surely around my waist, tucking under my arms and palms resting between my shoulder blades. The way her head nestled against my exposed chest was almost too much to bear. Almost.

She’d done her best to bring herself as close to me as she possibly could. Her belly, the baby, was nestled so securely between us. Right where she belonged – not anywhere near the dickhead in her bedroom. 

The way she let her head rest against my chest was like a puzzle piece clicking into place. And it felt even better when I brought one hand up to cradle the back of her head, a few more of her tears dampening my skin and the fabric of my shirt. I let my fingers slip through the strands of her hair as my other hand massaged her scalp. Her hair was like silk between my fingers.

The way I felt her breathing even out beneath my touch and against my body made my heart skip a beat and pick back up to a pace that felt like coming home. 

But too soon, she was pulling away from me and shaking her head like she wasn’t sure about what she’d just done. I could see the wheels turning, her eyebrows creased tightly before her hands came to her face and furiously wiped at any leftover tears. Thankfully, she didn’t waste time looking at me again. I assumed my expression matched hers pretty well – conviction glazing over our eyes. I felt it at the feeling of being so close and how it felt so fucking right. It felt more right than wrong and that was scary as fuck. 

I was in a relationship with someone else and I couldn’t even bring myself to care. And the bullshit I’d fed Maya tonight? Did I believe that? Did y/n believe what she’d said? So, I locked eyes with her, pleading for her to hear my heart wrenching thoughts. To answer my questions for me. My chest felt like it had completely caved in on itself with how I felt at this moment.

I want us to work this out. Please, I searched her eyes, wishing she could understand. The way her eyes brightened a bit gave me hope that she understood to an extent. Please – somehow, some way. I need more with you again. I don’t give two fucks that my girlfriend is sleeping in the other room – she isn’t you. 

But she didn’t respond to it with anything other than a shake of her head, her fingers smoothing each of her eyebrows, one at a time. Her arms were getting tucked under her tits again, crossing tightly there. I tried not to stare. I knew she was trying to center herself and she needed the moment without me fucking gawking at her to do so.

God – it would make things so much easier if I could just open up my head and heart and let her look inside. Because, unfortunately, I didn’t know how to say the shit that had me all fucked up. But now wasn’t the time anyway. Since, yes, my girlfriend was sleeping in the next room over and her boyfriend thing was behind the door we were standing in front of.

“Why are you awake, Jake?” She tried her earlier question again just as quiet but the slightest bit clearer. But my mind was in a daze, just watching her lips move. Admiring the gentleness of her breaths, rising her chest. I definitely didn’t answer right away, which had her clearing her throat. 

When I blinked a few times, I let my eyes refocus on the here and now. “I had to pee,” you whispered back, words plain and void of any heavy elements of emotion. I didn’t want to get in my head and stick my foot in my damn mouth. 

I kept doing that, it seemed. I just kept fucking things up. And not just with words – going beyond words with foolish actions. So many actions. Actions I didn’t regret nearly as much as I should have.

“Oh,” was all she pushed through her lips, barely a breath of the word. She’d started nervously rubbing her bicep, eyes going down to look at my chest and abdomen before trailing right back up to my face. 

“What are you doing awake?” My eyes evaluated her figure, sensual in every way – she didn’t have to try. Her body was perfect in every way and I’d appreciate it while playing dumb to her goings-on. I didn’t want her to know that I’d heard any of it – the reason she was awake. Not yet anyway. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped at me in her little hushed tone. The way she’d bit it out, it was as if she was scolding me. No way. She didn’t get to do that when I caught her every fucking day staring at my body the exact same way. Not when she’d called me motherfucking Captain earlier in the evening, practically begging me with her eyes and spreading her legs for me in front of God and everybody. 

My line of sight instantly found hers again, one brow raising at her and a small smirk on my lips to try her. “What’s wrong with me looking at you?”

“I don’t want you to,” she said, all too quickly. 

“Hm,” I hummed, scanning her face for any sign of hesitancy. It was painted all over her features – she didn’t believe what she was saying either. I could especially tell by the way her eyes followed mine and how she bit her lip. She wasn’t anywhere near angry – at least not with me anyway. She was simply conflicted. 

Join the club, baby. 

“Don’t test me, Jacob,” she cautioned, her arms increasing their pressure under her breasts. 

So, I did. Test her.

I let my eyes immediately go to where she’d applied pressure, her tits accentuated with the way her arms pushed them up. Even with the big t-shirt on, I could see as her nipples hardened under my stare. The thought couldn’t even cross my mind to try to prove her right as I saw it happen. My mouth was too busy watering, my dick starting to twitch in my pants. Her chest was rising and falling at such a rapid rate, I just wanted to know so badly what it would look like to see her chest without the hindrance of clothing. I could only imagine what her tits looked like now. 

Fuck. I bit my lip and tucked my hands in my front pockets to stretch the front of my jeans enough to distract from what I felt happening in them. The second time she’d gotten me like this in one evening. The poor toilet paper, half of a roll completely used, having to catch all of my desperate release. My stupid fucking tears as I did my best to aim into the tissue, with a whisper of her name on my lips. As she’d sat in the living room, having to explain my thoughtless actions. 

Had they been thoughtless, though? Or had it been a sort of plan to force Maya to see something she needed to see? If that were the case, I’d let that plan crash and burn to the ground. But it was hard to consider the actions thoughtless. Not with how her body had called out to me, the game card working in our favor – allowing me to show the world how well we matched. How her body moved in perfect time with my hands. Trembling underneath me, right out in the open.

Oh, her body. I bit my lip as my eyes trailed down to her thighs. Her hips, where I’d had my hands placed purposefully as long as I could. Wanted to hold her so tightly by the hips, her belly situated so wonderfully for my thumbs to trace it while holding her. Then, my sights landed on the gentle way her toes wiggled against the carpet. And, slowly, I worked my way back. Over her thighs, hips, and to her belly. 

The thought of her voluptuous, pregnant body lived comfortably in my dreams. But I wanted to see it in person – actually see what she looked like underneath her clothes – wanted to fucking study her beautifully stretching skin. Wanted her completely bare for me and my eyes only. Her body was getting fuller in ways my brain couldn’t keep up with. It was fuckin’ heaven to watch her grow – her tits, ass, thighs. . . that precious belly that held my baby.

I let my eyes trail back up to her chest. Still rising and falling so steadily – like I’d seen so many times before when she’d lay naked under me, panting just as hard as her with my release trickling down her belly, between her breasts, anywhere I could get in time. It was truly ironic how hard we’d tried to be safe. Kind of funny, actually.

Now wasn’t the time for humor though. Not with how badly I needed to touch her naked body again. Even to only see it again would satisfy my raging, tempting curiosity. I wanted to see her new body naked – pregnant and growing everyday with my baby.

Quickly, my half-hard dick was no longer a worry as I remembered just who got a bare look at her before me. And that got the fuck under my skin so quickly, that I glanced back up soon enough to catch her biting her lip and keeping track of my gaze with a hazy one of her own. And when she realized I’d caught her, her mouth was falling open and closing just as quick. She licked her pink lips once, at a loss.

Neither of us said anything for a long, tense moment. I let my head fall as I tried to not think about what had transpired in her bedroom. Not when I’d just had her to myself tonight. I didn’t know the details of what she’d done with him and every single second I kept imagining it in ways I did not fucking want to. The hand I let rub over my face was in an effort to fix my expression. 

Get out of your damn head, Jake, I coached myself, mentally slapping the sides of my head to clear it. You’ve done the same fucking shit to her, asshole. Made her listen. It was past time you had a taste of it.

That was enough to snap me back to reality. My thoughts landed on the golden woman standing in front of me who I continued to get heated with for things she was doing – people she was seeing. A bunch of shit that I was holding over her that I’d done plenty of times before. It was not my place. Right? 

The only thing that I was hung up on was that she was the one with the baby inside of her. I felt this intense, almost carnal protection over our little girl in her womb. Did I get a say in what y/n exposed her to? Was that my right? Damn. . . shit was maddening as hell.

“Well,” she said, her voice raspy before she cleared her throat just as she had earlier. I adjusted my sights on her again, opening my eyes to find her biting her kissable lips. Once again, there was something behind her eyes. Her eyes, bright and wide and waiting for me to come back to the present. My head was cleared instantly of all conflict now that I held her eyes. “I’ll let you go to–.”

“Stay with me,” the words fell past my lips without any thought. 

“Um,” her brow raised, a slight cough escaping her. The hint of a grin came to rest on her features. “While you go. . . pee?”

What was I implying? Was I telling her I wanted her to go with me while I peed? What the–?

Wouldn’t be the first time, my thoughts jested at me. The idea of the past made a small grin land on my lips. Strange request, but it had already happened before – peeing in the bathroom back to back, sharing our morning routine. Was it okay to do that now though?

Fuck it. Did I even care if it was okay? 

“Like you haven’t seen me pee before?” I replied, the hint of a laugh on my lips as my smile widened. My head was clearing. I’d be fine. Just had to concentrate on the here and now. On her. Right in front of me. 

Her expression was past the point of staying stony, her lips stretched to show a wide smile now. But she did seem to contemplate it for a minute. So, I rushed to retract what I’d said. “You don’t have to if it’s weird since we’re–.”

“Sure,” she responded, voice still a whisper to match mine. “I need to go too, anyway, so.”

“Do you want me to wait outside while you pee?”

“Why would you do that?”

Her question shocked me. She was alright with me being with her while she pissed? That seemed all the more significant than her being with me while I did it. And how in the fuck had this all started with me needing to pee? And now it was turning into a sort of group pissing session with y/n? The ludicrous nature of it all was enough to make my teeth show with a quiet laugh. 

“I want to respect your priv–.”

“If you’re okay with me being with you while you pee, I’m fine with you being with me,” she reasoned, her hand coming out to graze my arm for a second. Too short of a moment for me to make anything of it. She was simply being a friend. I liked it. Even though I wanted more, I liked it. Being her friend was an incredible gift on its own. It just sort of hurt to think of–.

No, Jake. Not now, a voice corrected me, sounding like Josh. This happened from time to time, my inner voice chiding me while sounding just like his voice. The fucker’s advising voice lived rent free in my head. Just go fucking pee.

I motioned for her to lead the way, but she motioned for me to do it at the same time. And when she refused to move, I knew she wouldn’t start walking until I did. Stubbornness was one of her defining traits and I was used to it. Something that pissed me off, but also made her who she was and I loved who she was. 

She quietly followed me to the bathroom, her soft steps padding behind me in a way that made my heart feel whole. 

As soon as we made it to the bathroom, I made sure she knew she had to enter first. Holding the door open for her, my feet planted on the ground as I motioned for her to go inside. Surprisingly, she didn’t hesitate. Instead, she was rushing in, forcing me to follow her lead and remember she was pregnant and needing to pee wasn’t a joke. 

I shut the door, and as soon as I did, she was pulling down her pants. Hastily, I decided that I wasn’t going to watch her pee, trying to respect her privacy at least a little bit. When I heard her start to go with a heavy sigh, a relieved grin reached my mouth. Although, until that moment, I hadn’t realized I was feeling the urgency with her enough to feel relieved for her–with her. 

The way she gently sighed though – it brought on some serious guilt. Because, yes, she was pregnant and had come out of her bedroom to pee. I shouldn’t have let her lag in the hallway. Even though I didn’t like it, I knew she’d been doing shit with Theo. And peeing after sex was already necessary, and on top of being pregnant? 

“I’m really fucking sorry I made you wait,” I said, a touch louder than the hallway since we were now behind a door. 

She huffed a little giggle, the melodic sound leaving her lips at the same time I heard the toilet flush. “I’m the one who forced you to tell me why you were awake. It’s my fault,” she excused, the sink already turning on behind me to tell me she was washing her hands. Once more, I heard a little giggle escape her. “My pants are up now. You’re in the clear.”

I turned around, only to find myself staring in the mirror and her staring straight at me. She was smiling so wide it made my insides feel weak. 

My own lips stretched to share a laugh with her. “I didn’t want to disrespect you by watching you take a piss.”

“Jake. Be so serious,” she smirked, the sink flicking off before she gently towel dried her hands. 

“I am being serious!” I clarified, half smile still resting on my lips. 

She only shook her head, still grinning. I pushed my hair back over my forehead before I lifted the toilet seat. And without even thinking about it, I started unzipping my pants. The action made her turn around herself, her cheeks pink before she was facing the same wall I had been looking at only a minute before. Her shoulders were shaking a little with her fit of giggles before I turned to pull my pants down enough and focus on my aim. 

As much as I wanted to stare at her ass, making a mess while taking a fuckin’ piss would be embarrassing as hell. 

I couldn’t think of much more than how good it felt to pee as soon as it was happening. The need apparently hadn’t gone away once, contrary to my belief, because my bladder was definitely less tight as I flushed the toilet myself. But whatever the fuck I’d woken up hearing was enough to apparently make the urge disappear, while still definitely being there. 

Stupid ass life. My life as a whole had honestly become a comedy club. Whatever. It didn’t matter. 

“You can turn around,” I repeated her words, trying my best to not think of her naked and underneath him as I closed the seat and tucked myself into my pants. 

Fuck – the sounds had conjured up this image that wouldn’t leave my brain. His hands on her belly. The same image I’d had before of them spread across the island. But this time, it was in her bedroom. And it was based on reality. Something I’d actually heard. I wanted to openly retch at the idea of him holding onto her full tits which I knew were sore as hell, due to what they were growing to provide. I’d done so much fucking reading on all of it – I didn’t need her to tell me for me to know. But the night in the kitchen. . . how she’d been so relieved for me to touch them. Had it been like that with him? Her body relaxing with contented sighs at him holding her heavy breasts?

I grit my teeth and washed my hands quickly, suddenly needing to get out of the tight space of the bathroom. All I wanted to do was sit her on top of it and pull her panties down. And as much as I could convince myself not to, I was going to regret if I did it and regret if I didn’t do it. The inside of my head was a fuckin’ storm. I just wanted to sleep. 

But. . . if I went to my room, it meant she’d go back to him. Was that truly what I wanted? No. It was-fucking-not what I wanted.

It doesn’t matter, that Josh-like voice started again. You don’t get to choose what she does. You’ve told her yourself that it doesn’t work like that. Suck it up, Jacob.

Looking up from how I was furiously washing my hands, I saw her watching me from behind. She was surveying me, thinking deeply. I could tell by the way she was chewing the inside of her lip. Something I don’t think she even knew she did. But I knew. I noticed every tiny thing she did. Every fidget.

“You washing your face?” I asked, briefly glancing down to turn off the water and dry my hands. I was trying to let common sense take over and train my mind back to sane places. 

When I swiveled on a foot to face her once more, her eyes were back to being a bit more hollow. The swirling studious reflection in her eyes from before had washed away. She was centered. She was able to tame her thoughts while I was failing miserably at it. 

“Not tonight,” she shook her head. And then she was chewing the inside of her cheek once again. “I’m tired. Long day.”

“Yeah,” I nodded slowly, a smile unable to stay off my features as I thought back to the appointment. It had been the best part of my day next to having y/n falling apart at my barely-there touches during a motherfucking game.

I’d experienced heaven at that doctor’s office. Watching our baby girl, learning her already. I had a name for her stowed away already. I’d traced it on y/n’s belly in the kitchen earlier in the evening, but I was waiting to see if she had any ideas of her own before I launched mine. Didn’t want to cloud her thought process with my own. I needed to give her space and that was one small way I could. 

“Well, let’s go to bed, then,” I said, voice hushing once more. Even with a somber feeling fogging up my brain, I still managed to smile enough for it to reach my eyes. For the precious woman in front of me that was selflessly carrying our child. “You lead the way this time.”

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Theo had been waiting for you at the bedroom door. Leaning against the doorframe like a fucking impatient child – or a mother worried sick about her child. It had been horrendous timing. Jake had almost made it to the bedroom door to drop you off. 

You hadn’t even realized Theo was leaning against the doorframe until he was clearing his throat before you. 

You’d been too consumed in Jake to notice. Consumed truly being the only word you could think of to describe the feeling. The walk back to your room had been so wonderful. You’d shared the smallest, quietest laughs about nothing and it had been bliss. He’d kept in perfect time as you walked beside each other. Your hands had grazed a couple of times, shoulders bumping maybe too frequently. The butterflies had been going ballistic in your tummy.

But, when the motherfucker had given that little cough to alert you of his presence, you’d both looked up from the other to see him. He’d been standing there, so self righteous. You’d felt Jake’s body tense beside you – didn’t need to be touching him to know he was fuming over the interruption.

“Wondering where you went,” the blonde had started, his eyebrow raising as if he were teasing you. “Missed you.”

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? Dammit. You hated the way he was talking to you and you’d hated even more the way his stupidly thick fingers had felt inside of you. 

Quite frankly, you didn’t want to respond, but you knew he wouldn’t go back in your room until you did. “Just had to pee. Told you that,” you answered semi-honestly. “Ran into Jake in the hallway. We were talking about apartment things.” A lie. Didn’t need him knowing what you were talking about. And you weren’t about to tell him you missed him back – you hadn’t missed him. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten that he’d been waiting for you. 

Your voice was louder than it should have been with the living room full of sleeping people, but it was impossible to give a proper answer without being a bit louder. You didn’t even want to be giving these explanations, though. It was your home. You were allowed to say and do what you wanted when you wanted. No matter who was waiting in your bedroom for you. Why couldn’t he have just stayed put?

“Will you be much longer?” He wondered aloud, his voice louder than it should have been as well. 

You shushed him, a finger to your lips and everything, just like before. The jock smirked and winked as if it were an inside joke. Ugh. This was fucking annoying and you knew Jake was already making assumptions based on Theo’s stupid little response. 

“No. And be quiet. Please,” you urged, with an expression lacking any sort of humor to match his. “There are people sleeping. Just go wait. I need to finish talking to Jake about a few things.”

The second wink the football player gave you made you want to bend over and hurl. Why? Because. At that moment, you wanted to be a heinous bitch and straight-up tell him that the way Jake used to finger you was worlds better than the sad little trick he’d performed in your bedroom. Wanted him to know his place and humble himself.

Would it have even mattered to Theo, though? Probably not. He’d gotten over the situation in the living room fairly quickly. . . he was too cocksure for it to matter. He was overconfident when he really shouldn’t have been. You’d easily learned that the guy was kind of an asshole who said and did whatever he wanted. Yes, he was cute. . . but almost everything else about him turned you off. He made your insides squirm in ways you detested. And the fact that he’d just had his fingers inside of you –. Yeah, you wanted to hurl.

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied, tone too flirty for your suddenly queasy stomach. 

Then, he was looking at Jake. Fuck. Wrong move, Theo.

Chancing a quick look at Jake, you saw the muscle in his jaw flex. And from your peripheral, you noticed a motion at his side. You glanced down to your side, and noticed Jake clenching a fist between the two of you. For a moment, you looked once more at Jake’s face. Wanted to get him to see you so he could relax. 

But, there was definitely no way Jake was going to look at you. He was too busy glaring at Theo, while simultaneously trying to school his features. He was failing miserably at seeming calm and collected.

You simply willed the football player to not say anything too dense, eying him carefully as he spoke. “Don’t keep her from me for too long, buddy,” Theo smugly remarked. “We’ve got a good time to finish.”

Thankfully, after those dreadful words were spoken, he was gone. He’d slipped through the door and clicked it shut behind him before Jake could even respond. With the way Jake’s harsh, choppy breaths could be heard in the quietness of the hallway, you didn’t want to know what Jake would have responded. Especially with the way he'd avoided Theo all night, being the only one who hadn’t spoken a word to your. . . date. 

Slowly, you turned on your heel, ready to give Jake a look that would let him know that you were just as annoyed as he was. But when you locked eyes with him, his jaw was still locked tight. His lips were pursed. You were contemplating how you were going to finish the night easily with him when he spoke. 

“How long have you two been fucking?” He whispered, folding his arms across his chest. 

Goddammit! Your mind halted at that, cheeks instantly reddened. Had he heard us? Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Stupid to bank on everyone being asleep. 

The fire that settled in your face, all the way down to your toes fueled your next words. Although, you couldn’t tell if you were more mad at him or the bumbling idiot behind your door. Or, maybe, you should’ve thanked Theo. You’d finally been able to give Jake a taste of his own damn medicine.

“Jacob,” you spit, whispering still, taking a step towards him, pointing a finger at his chest. “It is not your business. We’ve been over this. I’m tired of it.”

“I happen to think it is my business when you’re carrying my child,” he measured, taking his own step in your direction. 

Your fingertip grazed the warm skin of his arm. But before you could think anything of it, you placed your hands on your hips. Well, more like the back of them since you had a belly in the way. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew he had a point. It was the same reason you’d been apprehensive of doing anything with anyone. There was someone in your belly that you shared with someone else. How did one handle that? 

“It’s my body, Jake,” you decided on spitting back. Although, the defense felt as though it were missing a few parts. 

“I know. And I respect that. You know I do. But now she – a part of me – is inside of you,” he responded, his tone switching from irritated to. . . defenseless. With his next words, he stood up a little straighter and used one hand to point a finger at your belly. He didn’t touch it. . . even if you wanted him to. “You’re carrying a part of me, so it is my business.”

You hated that you actually agreed with him. You got it. It didn’t feel right to be with someone else. You couldn’t force your brain to fully adjust to the idea of someone else. Was it because of the baby? Or was it because you just wanted him? You weren’t totally sure. But you did know that he had a point. He wasn’t completely wrong. And, seriously – you hated it. After a minute of silence and nostrils flaring at the other, you’d found words that you truly did actually believe in. Words that definitely contradicted him. Gave you some ground.

“You don’t get to lay claim on me because of that,” you argued, pushing his hand away that was still pointed at your belly. 

You regretted the action because it caused him to back away slightly. And that was the last thing you wanted. However, you appreciated the way his body seemed to relax slightly at the words of sense you’d just stated. He took a deep, steadying breath, eyes closing. When he opened them, though, the fiery look in the dark irises still pierced your heart. And made your heart race all at once.

“I know I don’t, baby,” he replied, the pet name falling off of his lips without a pause. Your heart leapt at him calling you that. He shook his head before brushing a hand through his hair. The way he beheld you from his new position, eyes honed in on you, digging into you and making your skin lick with heat. “But that’s not what I fucking mean and you know it.”

Rather than agreeing, you decided to challenge him. Put him on the spot. “Do I?” “Yes. You do. I know you do. Quit acting so fucking obtuse, y/n,” he countered, pushing a hand through the front of his hair to tousel it. For what must’ve been for the eightieth in a single night.

Doing your best to not be distracted by him, you instead braced yourself on the willpower to keep at him. Wanted to get under his skin until he was forced to be irritated enough to leave you alone. Or, push you up against your bedroom door. No, y/n. No.

You didn’t want to think about how he had a point. It just made you feel hopeless that you would never have a chance to move on from him. Not that you wanted to – you just knew you had to. You weren’t good for him and he had Maya. 

Good job sucking his dick and throwing a wrench in things, by the way, y/n, the little devil on your shoulder reprimanded you. It was a daily occurrence that the inner voice reminded you of that shitty decision. Now you’ve made things harder for you and for him. Real nice.

The negative voice wasn’t completely gone with the therapy, just smaller and quieter when it would come around. Normally, the voice made you want to crawl in a deep, dark hole, but with this lovely reminder it kept giving you, you just wanted to punch a wall. 

There was a definite truth in what it was telling you. Whatever. Situation at hand. The voice could fuck off for now. Jake deserved to be called out for being a fucking child about Theo. You were not the only one acting ‘obtuse’. No, he’d had his fair share of being on the stubborn side of things as of late.

“Oh,” you blinked, your eyebrows set in a straight line at him as your own jaw clenched. The finger you pointed at yourself was to emphasize your point. Get him to listen. “I’m acting obtuse?”

“Yes,” he plainly stated, cheeks red under the hue from the living room lights, his deep set eyes, ablaze. Then he grabbed your hand, keeping it steady in his. The feeling of his hand wrapped around yours made your heart thump a bit harder in your chest. “You are. You’re being hard headed and refusing to hear me.”

“Yet. . .,” you began, taking a step closer to him, but ripping your hand from his. The whole point of this was making sure he knew you had your own ground to stand on. He didn’t have to know you felt shaky about it. “You are the one who – all fucking day – has been making sure to let me know how absurdly jealous you are of me and Theo.”

“You think I’m jealous of him? That floundering fucking moron?”

“Jacob. You quite actually said so yourself,” you rolled your eyes, placing your hands on your lower back. “At the clinic today being one specific example.”

He sighed, his eyes lightening a bit at you calling him out. “Okay. Yes, I did say that. Of course I hate that he gets to have you,” he admitted, his arms coming up to cross his chest but brushing against your breasts in the process. Fuck. You did your best to cover yourself, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice the mishap. His eyes were lasered in on yours. “He just fucking wishes he could have you like I got to have you.”

Without thinking twice, you said something you knew would get him. Still whispering, you spat the next words at him. “Well he’s the one who just had his fingers inside of me and has you all up in arms over this shit. So who’s fucking winning this stupid ass game, Jake?”

He simply stood there for a moment, his chest muscles were tight. He was so tense that even his chest was flexing. The sight was bad for you. His pecs had always made you weak. Your eyes honed in on his perfectly toned chest; it was easy to appreciate, with the way he wore his button down shirts. You’d never stop thanking God for how he wore his shirts. 

You watched his chest steadily rise and fall with each heavy breath. The space between his pecs, where a couple of his piratical necklaces laid, and the muscle that rounded out his strong chest. . . distracting. Your eyes trailed to his face. In the dim hue of the twinkle lights, you could see the red flush taking over his face and chest. He ran one stiff hand through his hair and took one step towards you, his lips still pursed and his jaw, so fucking tight. 

“Fine. I just don’t want to have to hear it, y/n,” he grumbled at you, his eyes darting over every inch of your face. One more step towards you. You quickly moved your arms away, just so his chest could land against yours. Needed to feel him. “I told you that.”

“And I told you that,” you hissed at him, taking a step even when you didn’t have to, flush against him now. Your sore breasts against his solid chest felt akin to a cool breeze on a summer day. “When you first moved in, Jake. And did that stop you? Back then, you broke the rule. And don’t you forget what the fuck you did when you started dating Maya. I had to see it, Jake. You didn’t give a shit what I’d told you.”

When you stepped towards him, his narrowed eyes slowly trailed from your pleading ones – to your touching bodies. His eyes observed long enough for you to know he liked it just as much as you did. Then, he was looking at you again, biting his lip. But he still hadn’t said anything.

“Exactly,” you said in finality, taking that as your opportunity to have the last word. Hm. You fucking won.

Or so you thought. You should’ve known better.

“But I stopped,” he reasoned, still quiet. His breath fanned over your face with how close he was. “After our talk the other night. I fucking stopped. Out of respect for what we’re going through. I understood where you were coming from. And you’re the one who brought it up to me – who created the damn rule in the first place. So does that mean you’re the only one who has the right to break it? Doesn’t seem very fucking fair to me, baby.”

A couple of minutes passed, your eyes never leaving the other and your bodies close enough to breathe in time with the other. Not to mention the way his hot breath continued to fan over your face, making your body feel more alive than it had since the game. Fuck. The game. His fingers. On you. In your underwear. Outside of your underwear – where you needed him most. 

You were, yet again, silenced. But not for long.

“The point is,” you began, straightening your posture and jutting your chin out at him. His face was tight, brow raised to consider your point. “If I want him to fuck me, Jake,” you took the last step you could take, his back brushing the wall with how close you were. Your body, responding to him in every way it possibly could. “Then he’s going to fuck me.”

Jake’s lids went heavy as he studied you, his mouth held inexplicably still. But, he didn’t have time to respond. Your worst imaginings, coming to fruition as you heard Maya call for him from the living room. Faster than light, you jumped back from him. You did not need her on your case twice in one night. Fuck that shit.

Without having to communicate as to why it seemed a better position, the two of you hastily traded spots. Him, no longer against the wall. You, beside your door. It made things look platonic. Because things were platonic. Though, the looks being exchanged between you were nowhere near the word.

You just thought of his words tonight. Your words. You had to live up to them. Whether you liked it or not. No matter how badly it hurt you to hear the words over and over in your mind. And now, sans talking, you were able to reflect, yet again, on what he’d said to her earlier. 

“Maya, babe. I don’t know what the fuck just happened.” “Don’t want you to think. . .” “We were never anything. Still aren’t.” “There’s nothing to be hung up on.”  “Y/n and I aren’t a thing. Never have been, never will be.”

Tears were, once again, gathering in your eyes. The words had magically escaped your spiraling thoughts until this moment. You'd done such a good job avoiding all of it once you'd come out of the bathroom. But now you had to remember. . . you’d started the blunt statements. You hadn’t meant them. You couldn’t truly mean them. Had it been the same for him? Had he just been trying to cover your asses? 

Before you could say or even think another thing, you saw her tight, shapely body traipse up behind him. Instantly, wrapping her arms around his torso, at which he tensed. You wrapped your arms subconsciously around your own torso, suddenly very insecure at your pregnant pudginess. You did your best to not pay them any mind. Your eyes, trained down at the floor, your toes, tucked into the carpet. 

“I’m ready for bed, Jakey,” Maya squeaked, sounding as though she was ready for a highlight reel on E!. She wasn’t from the fucking Valley. Why did she sound like that? While your thoughts frenzied at her ridiculous dialect, your flesh prickled at her calling him Jakey. You loved the nickname, but detested how it sounded coming from her lips. “Babe?”

At her calling him that, you looked up. He wasn’t paying attention to her at all. He was still watching you, his eyes fixed on your face. Fuck. He wanted to keep talking to you. You could tell – his eyes, equal parts frustrated at being stopped and desperate to continue. He looked as though he was a man racing against time. You understood. Completely. You wanted to continue as well. And you simultaneously, silently wondered what it could’ve led to. But. . . she was waiting. 

“Your girlfriend is ready for bed, Jake,” you reiterated, voice too-sweet from the irritation that lingered in your veins. Not with him. Not really. You just wanted to keep talking to him. No matter the case. Because, for some reason, no matter how you spoke – angrily, sensually, flirtily, kindly, jokingly, confusedly, even – a piece of an imaginary puzzle clicked into place. Every. Single. Time. 

The same conflict that swam timidly in his eyes surely swam laps in yours.

“Jakey, baby. Come on,” she whined again, tugging at his sleeve. God. You wanted to throat punch her. Did she not realize he was obviously upset over something? Why was she not caring to take a second to pay attention? Fuck tiredness. Jake was worth understanding, no matter how badly she wanted to sleep. “Let’s go, babe,” the black haired beauty at his side tried once more.

Your face was glowering at her. But she wasn’t concerned with you, her eyes stuck to his profile. He still hadn’t turned to receive her. She hadn’t even tried to figure out why he hadn’t moved, just continued to beg him to do what she wanted. Begging him like an incompetent toddler. Why was he with someone who didn’t care to figure him out? He deserved someone who took the time to know him, read him – inside and out. 

Finally, he turned his head towards his back, where she still stood. One arm, still tight around his waist. He tapped the arm signaling for her to move it, shaking her other hand off of his sleeve. She squeaked in disappointment, while you stood there confused. Your brows, drawn together. 

His eyes scanned you once more, determination set in his irises, before he looked to the side to address her. “Just go wait for me.” Then, he was looking at you yet again. Your cheeks heated at his rapt attention to you. “I’ll be there in a second,” he spoke to her, eyes never leaving yours. 

Somehow, even after the night’s events, Maya didn’t take too long to agree. After moaning and groaning a couple of times, she settled on a pout before she leaned up to give him a kiss. You looked away, a little too slow. You’d accidentally let yourself see her grab the back of his neck, turning his head in the process.

But, thankfully, you didn’t watch it happen this time. He didn’t watch you as it happened. You didn’t let him. Instead, you placed two gentle hands over your tummy, (not-so) patiently tapping out an Earth, Wind, and Fire rhythm as you waited out the kiss. Her humming, the barely-there moan as she explored his lips made you want to gnaw at fucking bone. 

“Okay,” you heard him declare, seemingly finished. But, you kept your line of sight trained down, still. “I’ll see you in a minute. Go get some sleep.”

“Don’t take too long,” Maya said in a sexy way that rivaled phone sex operators. 

When you felt you’d waited long enough, you looked towards the door. You’d waited just long enough, witnessing his door shutting. And, as soon as the door closed, you turned back to him. And him, you. 

“Why didn’t you go with her?” You quietly questioned, any previous bitterness, gone.

“I’m not finished with this conversation,” he simply stated, shoulders squared and sure. His hands tucked into his pockets as he took a stride towards you, close enough again that you could reach up and touch him if you wanted. 

“Why not?” You hushed, averting your eyes from his. He was so near and he’d just chosen you – you couldn’t trust yourself to look at him. Timidly, you let a heavy breath touch his skin, so close. 

His fingers, calloused yet delicate, lifted your chin to meet his gaze. You felt your eyes create moisture at the gentle act. “Because,” he began earnestly, his eyes searching yours. “This is important to me.”

“More important than her?” You questioned in a barely-there whisper.

“I know it might be hard for you to understand just how important you are to me,” he pressed closer, just enough that your chests were once again touching. Your breath was caught in your throat as he leaned down to better address you. “But it’s been this way for a long damn time and I don’t see it stopping anytime soon. Especially now that you’re pregnant with my baby.”

You offered a few shaky breaths before you decided you needed to say something in return. Intending to somehow wrap up what the two of you had started. “Like I said,” you continued, his hand still under your chin. Your eyes, floating between his amber-brown irises. “That doesn’t mean you lay claim on me.”

“I know, baby,” he countered, sighing with a heaving breath and a twinkle in his eye. “But, I am half of what is in here.” He gently touched your belly, attempting to remind you once more that the baby was his. 

Your first instinct was to lean into his touch, let the moment carry on. And, you did lean in – just enough that he noticed. But, you quickly decided against it. It wasn’t morally sound. This intimate moment. It was not fucking right. You let your eyes dig deep into his, begging him to feel the irresponsibility in this with you. You two were getting carried away. Time and again.

His brows drew in, following every movement of your gaze. When he drew his head back a little, you knew he was feeling something similar to you. You saw the realization dawn on his features. 

You’d both taken the time to apologize for the shit in the living room, and acting like this was going against your word. Your character was now coming into question. His character. Saying one thing and doing another. Fucking terrible. Selfish. The word rang once again in your ear, in that same nasty tone from times’ past. Dark, filthy, decrepit times. 

No longer could you make these reckless, selfish decisions. Not while you carried a baby inside who needed you. Already, you had to try to be an example. You couldn’t keep bouncing from incident to incident with Jake. It was all becoming too much for your heart to keep up with. So, with a giant step backwards, Jake’s hand was left hanging in the air where you’d just been standing. You’d made a strangely abrupt decision that you decided necessary to stand by.

He wasn’t attainable. Simple fact. You thought back to the bathroom, finding the tissues in the trash can right after you’d decided to focus on positive things for your little girl. You had to be selfless and let go of the one person your heart helplessly hoped for. . . You had to try to figure your shit out before there was a baby involved.  

All this thing with Jake did was make your heart pinch sadly in your chest. Each of you had people waiting for you in your bedrooms, for god's sake. No matter who they were, you had to quit this to show a morsel of respect towards them, yourselves, and ultimately your baby girl.

Giving it a second of thought and nothing more, you decided to curtly respond. You measured the words in your mind, briefly chewing on them, deciding if they were cutting enough to resonate with him. Had to end the moment. Would you end up regretting this? At the moment, you were too exhausted to care.

“Doesn’t mean you’re entitled to know a damned thing about my life,” you said, the words feeling false on your lips. Shaking your head, you smoothed your hands down the front of your t-shirt, distancing the two of you enough that you were almost leaning on your bedroom door. Him, across from you, now several steps away. It hurt to be far apart. “The baby, yes. Not me. You need to understand that,” you bit the words at him. 

And, without a thought, you knew the final nail you had to plunge into the coffin. These words felt sticky on your tongue. You didn’t want to speak the words, but felt you had to. It was best for the baby. “And things like tonight. . . they cannot happen, Jake. The little times here and there, those haven’t been smart. And I’m sorry for my part in those. . . But tonight?” You raised your brows, your tone a pitch higher as you thought back to the intense moment shared between you. “In a room full of people, Jake. We have to stop being so irresponsible. For her,” you placed a hand gently on your tummy, your eyes peering up at him, begging for support. “We need to find a stable ground for her to land on. The back and forth is not good for a baby. It’s unpredictable and scary.”

He stood in front of you for a second, obviously processing your words. But it didn’t take too long for him to respond with a nod of his head. And, for some reason, you wished it had taken him longer. “Okay,” he coolly responded, his face opening just the slightest at the word. His posture suddenly eased as the tiniest grin formed at his lips. 

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Jake’s POV

“Okay,” she nodded in response, her face flashing with doubt. Just for a second. “Goodnight, Jake,” she breathed, her chest no longer close enough to mine for me to feel. Her eyes, the most incredible pool of color, scanned my face once more before she was reaching up. For some delusional reason, I thought she was about to touch my face.

She never did, of course. Why would she? She was obviously upset and I’d been the one to make her that way. I watched the hand, as she used it to tuck hair behind her own ear.