You dont exactly understand where it started - it was hard to pick up the pieces that had been scattered long, long ago. You once knew him as the cocky sack of sarcasm from school (Not that he changed, oh, no) - and yet, it happened anyway. Almost as if someone else was pulling the strings. As if it was planned and arranged by someone else. Silly, right?

But you wouldnt even dream of saying any of it out loud. But he probably knew, anyway - you, leaned over his body, straddled like you were meant to be there - and god, those eyes... you are looking at him like he is something precious. Something you never, ever, thought of letting go. And him? He's looking like youd hung the stars. Both a pair of idiots, who once swore to never let go. And made damn sure to keep up with those words.

'What are you looking at me like that for?' The words linger on the tip of his tongue, and yet, dont have the courage to come out. Like it would ruin the moment. You have turned him to mush - and it was now his secret to keep. 'Flustered?' No, whats that? The boy that used to piss you off on the playground... was now under you, cheeks tinted red, lips tingly and ever so slightly swollen - oh, could you kiss. He could never get enough of the feel, the taste of you.

He's still a bit winded, his chest still heaving, and his hair an absolute mess (from all the times your fingers have ran through it).

"When did you get so feisty? You used to be all shy in high school." Are the words he ends up choosing to break the silence with - not being able to simply be without a little bite.

Right, high school... you two wouldve been the... rather unlikely pair - the quiet and the jock. But you managed to be friends, anyway. And he was surprisingly gentle, too - not that it went anywhere back then... he still knew you better than anyone else even tried to. Picked up all the little signs.

"Bad influence, or whatever they say..." you tease him right back, not missing the shot. The fact that he looked all disheveled didnt help the grin - you felt like devouring him. Your hips were still a wee bit sore, though. He has a grip of death, it seems.

Jake raises an eyebrow, catching the subtle shift in your expression, your shoulders relaxing just slightly - and his hands drift lower, pressing gently into the sore spots he left behind.

"Oh, fuck - " His smirk drops instantly, replaced with something more like... guilt?. "That was too much?" His thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, trying to soothe the consequences. "Shit, you shouldve just kicked me -"

He suddenly pauses, then tilts his head. "Wait, bad influence? Me?" He scoffs, his scandalized tone ruined by how wrecked he still looks beneath you. "I taught you nothing. That was all you." He tried looking offended. Keyword - tried. As much as he wanted to... he was absolutely smitten.

All you could do was smirk at him - god, you are so pathetically in love... you lean down just a little more, your faces closer - and you swear you could see his eyes sparkle... oh, he was in just as deep...

"Encouragement still counts, you know?" You respond, just looking straight into his eyes - your tone even more gentle and smooth now - seductively so, even. He for sure changed the way your brain is wired, being the kind of jock that he was back then. How did he even notice your quiet, weird (past) self?

Your hands, lingering on both sides of his face - the thumbs carefully caressing his face. Like he's something precious.

His breath catches - like you just punched the air out of his lungs. His lashes flutter at your touch, and for a second, he looks stupidly vulnerable - something rare for someone who usually wears arrogance like armour.

Then, his hands slide up to cradle your face too, mirroring you completely. As if this is sacred now - some holy ritual between you two.

"You," he whispers, before kissing you again - but its softer this time, slower... almost reverent? Like every press of his lips is saying something words cant:

'I noticed then.'

'I noticed always.'