the friendship of you and geneveive has been going strong since you were teenagers, living in LA and being reckless. she was always quick to involve you into the activities the jacksons would cook up so when she called three weeks ago, screaming into the phone about inviting you to another family vacation, you were not surprised.

you remember, sitting on your bed with your bonnet on and listening to some music, painting your toe nails messily when she called and said: “girl, the whole crew is going! we rented this private villa in the bahamas, white sand, infinity pool, ocean views for days. jaafar, jermajesty, even marlon jr is coming. and you know they said you’re family. pack your shit, it’ll be like old times!”

your heart swelled at the mention of old times and your mind drifted to the thoughts of the days you tagged along with the jackson on their unique trips. most importantly your mind drifted to the thought of jermajesty and how it’ll be the first time seeing him in a while, half of it is your fault other half is his for not reaching out but at the same time your could’ve called.

but it has been a while since you seen him and since you seen the family, actually. you were so embedded in you studies . the family missed you and most importantly jermajesty missed you, unbeknownst to you. the last memory of you spending time with the jacksons was the first big family barbecue when you were nineteen and he was twenty, tall and quiet with that nerdy build and the softest brown eyes. every family event since holidays, premieres, random sunday dinners, you’d catch yourself staring at him.

but only god knew his gaze would always find you in a crowd or even in a room where it’s just him and his siblings, if you were there, you’d be the first thing he sees. you had a crush on jermajesty so deep it felt like dna. and you were almost positive he didn’t feel the same way but it was just a stupid little crush, nothing too serious.

within those three weeks of getting ready for the trip, you were able to book a hair appointment and nail appointment which was a first, considering how booked you thought everyone would be due to it being summer. you didn’t know why you felt the need to buy new bikinis even though you had tons from the previous trips but you felt like you needed something new or maybe it was to impress jermajesty, or even get him to bat a eye. you double checked your luggage tons of times, making sure you wouldn’t leave anything important even though you were used to stealing using genevieve’s stuff in case you forgot something but reassurance wasn’t the reason you felt the need to check your bag , it was nerves. you were nervous to see jermajesty after all this time, then you began to wonder-you wondered if he grew into his looks and how he looks as a man and not the boy that would chase you down with worms in his hand that he had found when playing in dirt, even though you’re pretty confident he would do that now. you also wondered if he remembered you, remembers your looks or the way your laughs sounds like.

you didn’t know why you and jermajesty never happened. it was either nerves or just the simple fact that neither of you could come forward and say the words that were bottled up for so long or maybe it was when you found out he had gotten into a relationship. the jackson family literally voted you and jermajesty most likely to get into a relationship, you could recall mama katherine giving you two know looks your whole life. you start to think that it was the sole reason you kept your distance for a while, yes you had exams but you still could’ve reached out to say hello or ask how everything is going but instead you locked in all semester, locking yourself away in the process.

now its summer and the semester has ended, so you couldn’t lock yourself away anymore according to geneiveve.

on the plane, it was buzzing with familiarity. jaafar sat next to his mom, like the mama’s boy he is. jermaine and randy jr sat next to each other and then jermajesty sat alone, headphones on. geneveive had saved you seat next to hers, near the front and her seat next to the window of course, she always managed to get the window seat before you. you sank into the soft leather with a relieved sigh, your curls bouncing as you got comfortable. you outfit screamed, comfy, oversized grey hoodie from aritzia engulfing you and your grey sweats to match. you applied light makeup, gloss and mascara. you didn’t know who you were trying to look good for, knowing all the other times you tagged along with the family you didn’t care what you looked like but this time it was different, very different.

genevieve was already chattering about villa plans and how excited she was to have you back with the family, you would laugh and lean into the conversation about bikinis and hairstyles, glad for the easy familiarity with everything.

down from the aisle across from you, you caught a glimpse of jermajesty . he really had grown up to be a young man, young handsome man. those chubby cheeks he once had formed into a defined jaw line and adam’s apple. his lips looked full and soft with a hint of his goatee covering his upper lip and some on his chin which made him look sexy.

your phone buzzed after take off, casually you lifted you phone making the screen light up to show you have gotten a text from jermajesty.

big head🥸: hey, i’m glad you came. i missed you.

i missed you.

not a we missed you, a i missed you. the text contained vulnerability and sincerity which surprised you a little bit. yes, jermajesty had always been chalant when it came to feelings and relationships especially friendships so you don’t know why you felt surprised, i guess it was just the simple fact he could text you so easily after all this time but you could barely bring yourself to pick up the phone and call.

you phone buzzed again, which was quick.

big head 🥸: why did you never reach out, jellybean?

your stomach did a little flip. jellybean. your heart squeezed at the thought of the nickname . he’d always teased you growing up whether it was playful jabs or comments at family events, one day when you five and jermajesty was six, he dared you to eat a whole container of jelly beans and bring you were never the one to back down from a dare you obliged which resulted to you getting terribly sick and vomiting all over you mother’s white fur coat which was laying on the couch next to both of you. that day jermajesty gave you name jelly bean behind fits of giggles and moans and groans coming from your lips. to your dismay, the nickname stuck and it became the main reason for your annoyance but this time you didn’t feel annoyed you felt something else and what ever it was it made your lips curl up.

you stared at the text longer than intended. what you wanted to say was ‘it’s my fault you forgot about me and got a girlfriend’ but that would’ve been weird so you came up with some bullshit.

sorry college had me locked away

the bubbles appeared in less than seconds.

big head🥸: bullshit.

you bit your lip to hide a smile and realized his intuition he had for you never faltered.

It’s not bullshit, maj. some of us doesn’t have the luxury of a famous last name.

once again, he started to text back fast.

big head🥸: still sounds like bullshit. you disappeared on us. on me. missed my jellybean

the tingle hit harder this time. you shifted in your seat, pressing your thighs together under the blanket. who knew a harmless little nickname could have you in shambles.

dramatic much? I didn’t disappear, I just… got busy. family stuff gets complicated sometimes.

big head🥸: yeah not like that but it’s nice seeing u tho. you cleaned up nicely

you chuckled at his attempt to compliment you.

big head🥸: nah but in all seriousness, you’ve always been beautiful.

you didn’t know what to say next. you try to look for any playfulness or tease in his text but you couldn’t find any, it was genuine. you tried to play it cool.

yea well you cleaned up nice too :)

you looked at your text, hoping you didn’t come off as dismissive. after that jermajesty didn’t reply which made you feel like you had fucked up . you wished you had just told him how you felt or something equivalent to that but you had to be nonchalant and bottle up your feelings like all the time.

about halfway through the flight, when the plane lights dimmed and most people had dozed off, genevieve included, headphones on and blanket pulled up, your phone buzzed again.

big head🥸: come sit over here, bean.

you heart pounded. you stared at the text for a long moment, nerves fluttering in your chest. It’s just sitting. he’s probably bored. you took a slow breath, calmed yourself, and quietly slipped out of your seat. genevieve didn’t stir.

you moved down the aisle and slid into the empty seat beside him. he immediately shifted closer, his knee pressing against yours under the shared blanket the attendant had left. “what do you want, big head.”

now it was your turn to say nicknames, earning a laugh only you could hear. his eyes traced your face, your braids, the way your hoodie had ridden up a little. “nothin just missed you bean, thas'all .”

you laughed softly, trying to ignore the feeling of his leg brushing against yours. “i missed you too, jay jay.” you cooed.

he smiles. “been wanting to hear that pretty laugh for a while now.”

“ouu careful, what would maj’s girlfriend say?”

“maj’s girlfriend wouldn’t say anything cause’ maj doesn’t have one.”

questions instantly crowded your head.

when did this happen?

did he break up with her or did she break up with him?

“oh maj, m’sorry. that’s terrible m- what happened?” you acted like you cared even though should’ve but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel even the slightest bit of sympathy, that’s bad and you know it but you didn’t care.

he shrugged. “it was time, plus my mind was elsewhere.” you still had tons of questions but kept them to yourself. you shifted in your seat, letting yourself relax into the plush seat as jermajesty watched you with a certain look on his face.

“what about you, has anyone scooped you up yet?”

you grinned at the thought. “nope, never had any time to date.” time had nothing to do with it, i mean yeah there were plenty of guys that wanted to hook up within the dorms but you were saving yourself for someone that you trusted. of course you know what pleasure feels like, you had a fair share of vibrators and pathetically performed masterbations when you felt like you were going to cum but never actually cum (sounds excruciating).

your answer led to another question. “has anyone.. y’know” you were taken aback by the vulgarity. you never heard him talk like that but it kind of made a buzz spark in your stomach, the conversation was no longer innocent. unconsciously, your thighs clenched together as you felt the weight of this conversation on you.

“no uhm, im a virgin.”

you suddenly think of a memory about you and geneveive when you two were teenagers, talking in her bedroom drinking soda and painting each other’s nails.

“i’ll probably lose my virginity in high school, what about you bean?”

“uhmm probably high school too.”

looking back, you didn’t know why you were so confident because the plan obviously didn’t go as planned but genevieve had the luxury of a 6 foot tall boyfriend in high school who she dumped once she got tired of him.

your answer led to jermajesty raising a brow.

you immediately wanted to hand the microphone back to jermajesty. “you?”

“yes.” he blinked. “but if I could take it back and do it was someone I actually loved, I would.”

silence fell over you two, letting the his words process in your head.

“well it was nice catching up.” you say, abruptly. jermajesty watched you stand up and start to head back to your seat but stopped you.

“so that’s it?” he chuckled, brows furrowed at the sudden change in your demeanor.

“i have to go sit with gen.”

“bullshit.”

“boy, i’m getting enough of you saying everything i say is bullshit.”

jermajesty just grins, a glazed expression of tease on his face. you narrowed your eyes, letting out a grumble as you walked off and plopped down in your original seat.

you didn’t want to meet his eyes but you knew jermajesty was looking at you, laughing. this reminded you that even though he grew up he still was every bit of the little boy he was but the ache between your legs reminded you every bit of the man he became.

the rest of the ride was infused with melatonin for you. every time you got up to stretch or use the bathroom, you felt the weight of slumber come over you along with the weight of jermajesty gaze, tracing your hips and the curve of your ass in those leggings. he kept texting and you kept ignoring, wanting the rest of the ride to be peaceful.

by the time the plane started its descent into the bahamas, you deep slumber. you didn’t know how you fell asleep to easily, especially with the thought of jermajesty on your mind, you thought it was going to be impossible to sleep but a couple of humorous conversations with geneveive paired with the rain forest sleep music spewing from your airpods did the trick.

some moments later, you felt two taps on your shoulder. “wake up, sleepy head.” you grunted as you felt yourself slipping away from your sleep, eyes opening ever so slightly to see a familiar silhouette.

“we’re here,” genevieve murmured close to your ear, voice low and warm. “almost time to land. you slept the whole way.”

you blinked awake, disoriented and still carrying that low tingle from his texts. He was leaning over the aisle divider, eyes soft but intense as they traced your face, your messy braids, the way your hoodie had ridden up a little in your sleep.

the landing was smooth. customs was quick for the group. vans waited on the tarmac to take everyone to the villa. genevieve in the row ahead chatting with alejandra, leaving you and jermajesty in the back. his knee pressed against yours the whole winding drive along the coast. neither of you said much, but the silence felt heavy with everything unsaid.

the villa was stunning, sprawling white walls, private beach access, ocean views from every window, multiple wings for privacy. everyone claimed rooms quickly and crashed hard after the long travel day. you and genevieve took the beautiful corner suite with two king beds. she was asleep within minutes, not saying one word which made you wonder how she’s able to sleep so easily, in all your years of knowing her she never had a hard time slipping into bed and falling asleep. at that moment, you were jealous. you would’ve been in a deep sleep too if it wasn’t for a specific person, that person being a boy and that boy being jermajesty jackson .

you didn’t know if it was the smell of his sandalwood—aphrodisiac of a cologne that made your head spin or the warm brush of his knee against yours during the plane ride or the simple fact you had confessed to him that you were a virgin. what it was, it had you sitting criss cross on the bed with a pondering expression on your face.

suddenly a soft knock pulled you from your thoughts.

jermajesty stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, holding a brand-new lego set—some big, spaceship or iconic building he’d grabbed from the gift shop near the airport. he looked a little shy in his gray sweatpants and simple tee, hair still messy from travel—goatee fuzz against his chin and upper lip.

“hey… couldn’t sleep,” he whispered, stepping inside quietly and closing the door behind him. “saw this and thought maybe you’d wanna build it with me? like old times.”

you smiled despite the late hour, sitting up in your thin, brandy melville tank top and shorts, braids loose and a little wild from sleep. “you’re still such a lego nerd, huh?”

“always.” he grinned softly. “come on, jellybean. let’s go to the living room. we can keep it quiet.”

you said yes without hesitation. the two of you moved to the floor of the living room, spreading the pieces out between you. “how long do you think it’s gonna take for us to finish this one?”

jermajesty grins at the thought, “I don’t know, maybe a couple of months.” he shrugs whilst fiddling with one of the lego pieces—beginning to build the pieces on top of each other. the lego bricks clicked softly as you built, knees occasionally brushing his, the kind of comfortable closeness you’d missed so much.

it seemed the more you sat there the more nervous you got—hoping the nervousness was only on the inside and not noticeable on the outside. after a comfortable lull, he spoke:

“so… why don’t you have a boyfriend ?”

you blinked. “um i’ve just been focusing on myself lately.” you shook your head, continuing to snap legos together—not bothering to lift your head and look at him. “why?”

once again the room is filled with silence. concerned, you finally cock your head at him. the air thickened between you. then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was soft at first—hesitant, sweet, like he’d been holding onto this moment for years. his hand gently cupped the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw. for a heartbeat you froze, surprised, the remaining spark you felt on the plane came back to play, instead this time you felt it even harder.

he pulled back, slowly after a second, eyes searching yours, lip still lingering on yours. you didn’t know what to say. the words wouldn’t come. your heart was racing, lips still tingling, that ache from the plane suddenly burning hotter between your thighs.

jermajesty’s face fell. “shit… i’m sorry. that was stupid. i thought—” he stood up quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i should go. my room’s just down the hall. forget that happened. night.”

your eyes followed him as he slipped out before you could find your voice, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

you sat there on the floor surrounded by half-built lego, fingers touching your lips, body warm and confused and wanting. the kiss changed everything.

the ache only got worse.

before you knew it, it was the next morning—you barely slept after the kiss you jermajesty shared last night, you kept replaying the events in your brain—the soft flesh of his lips pressing against yours, the way his hand had gently cupped your neck, the nervous look in his eyes when he pulled back. you tossed and turned, all night which resulted in your bonnet slipping off in the middle of the night, braids messy against the pillow, body warm and aching between your thighs. by the time the sun rose you were still thinking about it, heart fluttering, a low persistent throb reminding you how badly you wanted more.

not even the slightest press of your thighs could conceal the ache.

frustrated, you eventually got up freshened up quickly, and went downstairs for breakfast with the family. the villa’s open kitchen and dining area overlooked the ocean. genevieve was already there, waving you over to the seat next to her. jermajesty sat directly across from her—which meant directly across from you.

you slid into the chair beside your best friend, trying to act normal and nonchalant. “morning, everyone.”

jermajesty’s eyes met yours the second you sat down. that same soft, intense look from last night. he gave you the tiniest smile, the kind only you would notice, the smile that hoped you forgot about something he knew you didn’t forget about

breakfast was full of family chatter —jermaine cracking jokes, alejandra making sure everyone ate, jaafar and marlon jr. talking about jet skis. but underneath it all, you and jermajesty kept stealing glances.

every time you looked up, his eyes were on you—tracing your face, your lips, the way your braids fell over your shoulder. you’d look away, cheeks warm, only to feel his gaze again a moment later. once, when you reached for the fruit bowl, your fingers brushed his as he passed it to you. the spark was instant. he held your eyes a second longer than necessary.

genevieve was right there chatting away, completely oblivious. “so, beach day today? m’ thinking we do some cute photos for insta first, then swim. you in?”

“yea, definitely,” you said, forcing a smile while jermajesty’s

you tried to focus on your plate, but the ache from last night was back—stronger now. every shared glance made your thighs press together under the table. he knew exactly what he was doing.

when breakfast ended and everyone started getting ready for the beach, the tension only built. you changed into that sage green string bikini, the one that looked sinful on your deep brown skin. the top barely contained your full breasts, one false move and your dark aerolas would slip out. the bottoms sat high on your hips and disappeared between your ass cheeks. you threw on a sheer white cover-up and headed down with the group.

you met up with genevieve in the main living area. she was in a cute yellow bikini with a matching cover-up, smiling brightly.

“ready, bestie?” she asked, linking her arm with yours.

“ready,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart was racing.

the whole family walked down the private path to the beach together— jermaine and alejandra leading the way, chatting about the ocean views, jaafar and marlon jr. joking loudly behind them. you and genevieve walked side by side in the middle, but you could feel jermajesty’s eyes on you the entire time.

he walked just behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him. every now and then his hand would brush the small of your back “accidentally” as the path narrowed, sending little sparks up your spine. you kept glancing back, catching his gaze, and he’d give you that same soft, hungry look from breakfast.

the beach was perfect — white sand, turquoise water, and enough space that the family spread out naturally. genevieve wanted to take photos first, so she wandered a bit farther down with her camera. that was your moment.

You turned to Jermajesty, heart pounding, and grabbed his hand.

“come with me,” you whispered, pulling him away from the group toward a cluster of large rocks that gave just enough privacy.

“look, bean. m’so sorry about last n- mm!”

the second you were out of sight you pushed him against the warm stone and kissed him—hard.

he groaned into your mouth, hands immediately gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. the kiss was desperate, sweet and filthy at the same time. his tongue slid against yours, deep and hungry. one of his hands slid down to squeeze your ass, the other tangled in your ponytail, tugging just enough to tilt your head how he wanted.

“so y'not mad about last night?,” he panted against your lips between kisses.

you moaned softly, shaking your head—pressing your body tighter to his, feeling how hard he already was against your stomach. “you kissed me and just left… I couldn’t stop thinking about it-”

he cut you off with another deep kiss, walking you backward until your back hit the rock. his hand slipped between your bodies, fingers pushing the bikini bottoms aside and sliding through your soaked folds.

“shit, baby—you’re dripping,” he groaned, circling your clit with two fingers, pussy juices coating his goatee. “all this from when I kissed you?”

“mmmh—yes—touch me—” you whimpered, hips rolling against his hand. your braids brushed your shoulders as you tilted your head back. “don’t stop kissing me—”

he kissed you harder, fingers slipping into your tight, wet pussy while his thumb rubbed your clit. you were grinding on his hand, toes digging and curling in the warm sand whilst moaning into his mouth, the ocean waves covering most of the sound.

“fuck—your fingers feel so good—right there—ahh!” you gasped between kisses.

“my fingers feel so good?” he repeated, faintly against your cheek—lip between his teeth as he admired your expressions.

then—

“y/n? where you at?” genevieve’s voice called from closer than you expected.

you both froze. jermajesty’s fingers stilled inside you, but he didn’t pull them out. his forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.

“fuck,” he whispered, stealing one last quick, filthy kiss. “later. i’m not done with you.”

he slipped his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while looking you dead in the eyes. then he adjusted your bikini bottoms, gave your ass one last squeeze, and stepped back like nothing had happened.

you smoothed your cover-up, heart racing, pussy still throbbing, and stepped out from behind the rocks with a casual wave.

“right here! just taking some pictures with maj.”

genevieve huffed. “she’s my model, maj. go take pictures of jaafar.” she shooed jermajesty away before tugging you to the shore. you caught a glance of jermajesty walking towards the boys not failing to give you a wink while genevieve pestered you to pose for the camera.

from that moment forward you knew this trip was going to be like no other.

the rest of the beach day was pure torture.

you and jermajesty kept stealing glances, brushing hands “accidentally,” and finding little excuses to be close. every time genevieve turned her back he’d lean in and whisper something that was sweet but had lustful undertone like— “can’t stop thinking about you, bean” or “you look so good.”

by the time the sun went down and everyone headed out for drinks. you made some stupid excuse saying ‘my throat is a little sore n’ I don’t want to get you sick’ genevieve instantly understood, giving you the green light to stay at the villa alongside jermajesty who told a little white lie.

when everyone finally started heading to the bar, you and jermajesty went back to your suite.

you quickly escorted jermajesty inside, closing the door quietly behind him. he didn’t say a word. he crossed the room in two strides, pulled you up into his arms, and kissed you like he’d been starving for it all day.

you moaned into his mouth, hands fisting his shirt as he walked you backward to your bed. he laid you down gently but urgently, stripping your bikini and cover up off while kissing every inch of your deep brown skin—your neck, your nipples, your stomach, your thighs. he then stripped his shirt off as well—along with his swim trunks, cock flying feed and slapping his stomach.

“been thinking about this since breakfast,” he whispered against your skin. “since the plane. since that kiss last night. fuck, i need you”

he dropped to his knees between your legs, pushed your thighs wide, fingers coming up to spread your pussy lips before diving in. his tongue was filthy—long, slow licks through your soaked folds, sucking your clit hard while two thick fingers slipped deep inside you.

“ohhh fuck—yes!” you moaned, hand flying to his curls. “maj—please—your tongue feels so good—ahh!”

he groaned against you, fingers curling relentlessly while he sucked your clit, spit covering the achy bud—sounds of gush sloshing against your pussy from his mouth. you came hard within minutes, thighs shaking around his head—mouth hung open at the orgasm riding throughout your body.

right after that, he climbed up your body, cock thick and hard, and slid into your soaked entrance in one smooth thrust.

“fuuuuck—so tight and wet for me,” he groaned, starting a deep, steady rhythm. “this pussy feels even better than i imagined all these years.”

you wrapped your legs around him, nails digging into his back. “harder—please—maj!”

he fucked you deep and sweet at first, then harder, whispering filthy-sweet things in your ear the whole time—how pretty you looked taking him, how long he’d wanted this, how he was never letting you go again.

“oh my god! fuck! why are you fucking me like dis?” you cried, voice shaking as your body shook up and do with the thrusts of jermajesty’s hips.

“why am I fucking you like this?” he repeated your question, thrusts getting more harsh. “cause’ i love you. that’s why.”

his confession really fueled you and just like that you began to cum around him, moaning and whaling into the air. you were leaving a thick white ring around his cock, fingers digging in his biceps as your toes curls tightly—forming cramps in your muscles. your head thrashes to the side, letting jermajesty chase his high while you laid there. jermajesty came soon after you, pumping thick ropes of cum into you—hips stuttering and chants of your name pouring into your chest.

you held him as his thrusts faltered, letting his hips buck into you a couple more time before pulling out, making his hot load trickle from your your cunt to between your ass.

afterward he cleaned you up with a washcloth and helped slip your pajamas on. “I love you, big head.” you confessed.

she had been texting you all day and night. you sent an apology, for a reason unbeknownst to you. she said it was never going to be your fault, and if she were to blame anyone then it would be riri. 

“every athlete got a bump in the road, i’m just glad it’s not a torn acl.”

man, whatever. 

you knew better than to mess with something that took away from your studies. you knew better than to fuck with athletes. you knew better, so why didn’t you do better?

“if you keep scrolling through twitter you’re going to get a brain bleed. especially reading tweets about that girl’s suspension.” kami says, taking a bite out of her fry while holding your phone in the other. 

“i don’t know how to stop when it’s flooded my whole feed on every app. it’s like my phone knows i did some fuck shit.”

“um!” kami quickly puts a finger to your face, “it’s not what you did. it’s what she did. sure, it sounded like one hell of a kiss. shuri knew the repercussions of getting caught and you didn’t. how can you be blamed for something that you didn’t even know a rule about? stop letting that girl get in your head.”

you lower your head into your hands.

“it’s hard to do that when she keeps wanting to see me. i keep giving her random excuses instead of just telling her i don’t want to be involved in whatever her and riri got going on.”

“then just say that.”

you raise your head again to look at your friend. she was right, you could always just be a big girl and use your words. a part of you was being selfish beyond it all though. shuri was nice to you and clearly wanted to get to know you beyond the surface. but, was it real? or were you just the basketball being dribbled in some ultimate game of riri v.s. shuri? all you knew was that right now you were right where shuri wanted you. in her palms, as she pushed you back and forth, feeling the leather brushing against her fingers. 

really, all you wanted was to be one of the balls put up on one of the racks. nah, you were lying. you loved the chase, the attention of a star wanting to be all up on you. the fact that it may be fake was being shielded by the intense kiss the two of you shared. which was already a red flag considering she barely knew you.

can someone call a referee in, preferably not kami?

“you’re right, i guess i should just tell her that it’s best we don’t communicate anymore.”

kami smiles, and nods approvingly. she hands you your phone back and watches you intently as you stare at the last few messages between the two of you.

yesterday, 3:26 p.m.

shuri : “i have a game tomorrow, i hope you pull up.”

yesterday, 5:17 p.m.

shuri : “i got you the courtside tickets. one for you and your friend.”

today, 10:42 a.m.

shuri : “you been ducking? don’t worry your pretty little head about the basketball shit, fr. i don’t want it to affect what we got going on.”

just when you go to pick up your fingers to type, you feel a finger poking on the top of your shoulder. you can’t help but jump a little, scared of the sudden contact from a mysterious person.

your head lifts up to meet the eyes of the person who was attempting to grab your attention.

riri.

“hey.” she says, hands now in both of the pockets of her hoodie. she looked shy, almost embarrassed to be talking to you. which was the stark contrast to everyone else around the two of you looking too starstruck to move. 

“hi?” you say back, almost as if it were a question. 

“do you mind if i talk to her for a second?” riri says, turning to face kami. it amused you that she was asking your friend, and not you.

“i don’t mind if she doesn’t mind.” kami says, looking to you for a response.

“it’s fine.” you meekly say.

“i’ll meet you out front whenever you’re done. just text me.” kami says, gathering up her stuff.

“you wanna talk here?” you ask riri, noticing that her braids are out of the bun and flowing down her back. 

“nah, i was in a private study room and saw you down here. we can go in there. i booked it for a couple hours.”

oh, she’s a great player and she’s a scholar.

“okay, lead the way.” you say, standing up from the chair. you reach out to grab your backpack that was hanging from the back of the chair when she stops you.

“i got it.”

riri grabs the bag with ease, despite the heavy books and laptops in it. your back had been screaming all day carrying it around to all of your classes.

“thanks.” 

“it’s the least i could do, after the bullshit riri and i put you through the other day.”

you go silent, not really wanting to talk about what has already happened. however, clearly riri was taking you to the room to talk about the instance. from the way she walked, and talked, she was almost scared of you. 

it was a shyness she hasn’t felt in a long time. being around you was probably the first time she wasn’t angry in a long time too. it wasn’t like she understood the effect you had, i mean you two had just met. she just had a feeling that you were too nice. too nice for shuri, too nice for her.

she takes you to a hall in the union you had never been to before. 

the both of you stop in front of a door with windows along the walls that had been frosted to just barely see the inside. a student id is quickly whipped out from where she had been resting her hand in her hoodie. you get a quick look at the picture, noticing she clearly hadn’t updated it since freshman year. 

“ladies first.” she says, holding the door open for you from the outside, instead of the inside like shuri did. 

it was the little differences between the two girls that made your head spin.

you take a seat in the one opposite from where she was clearly working. your backpack moved from around her shoulder and onto the floor beside you. she set it down gently, as if it were a newborn. 

she seemed aggressive on the court, but really riri was just as soft as any girl.

“i know you probably don’t want to talk about this,” she starts, as if she was reading your mind, “but i got some things i need to get off my chest.”

“i’m listening.” 

riri leans over in the chair opposite to you, her face getting closer so that her voice travels better. 

“i want to apologize for how i handled myself around shuri. not that it’s any excuse, but this is my last year to get a ring. i know how to handle a ball, schoolwork, sponsorships, everything but her.”

you raise an eyebrow, curious to see where you come into play with this speech.

“my anger gets out of control when i see her doing dumb shit. the shit she was doing with you was dumb. the shit we were both doing about you was dumb. that should’ve never been a conversation had in front of you.”

“riri, honestly, i don’t want anything to do with whatever y’all got going on. i have shuri texting me, notifications about her suspension blowing up my phone from people i don’t even follow, and then i got you pulling me away to talk about something i don’t even want to be thinking about.”

she furrows her brows, not expecting that response.

“clearly i don’t know how to handle you either.” she says, pushing one of her braids back behind her shoulder. “i don’t want to waste your time with this mess. i just wanted to let you know that i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i said that stuff in front of you, i’m sorry for what she said if she hasn’t apologized already. most of all, i’m sorry for not even acknowledging your presence. i just got so angry and sometimes i don’t know how to stop it from boiling up.”

you two sit in silence for a moment. her words came out of her like a fountain, unable to stop and they sped up with every syllable. you’re shocked you can even make out what she’s saying at the end.

“say something, please?” she looks at you with these dark puppy dog eyes, completely different from the ones she’s showed you before.

“i don’t know what to say.”

she sighs, “okay, i’ll tell you this.”

you nod your head.

“if you come to the game tonight, i’ll know you accept my apology. hopefully we can move on from this and if shuri is what you really want i won’t get in y’alls way.”

huh? get in the way? what could that even mean, considering she without a doubt is the one that got shuri benched. 

“if you don’t come, then i’ll leave you alone. i’ll make sure shuri leaves you alone too. i won’t come at her crazy, i can keep it professional.”

“i’ll think about it, okay?”

a slight smile appears on her full lips, “good enough for me.”

you give her a smile back. you just can’t help it, seeing as her’s is just as contagious as shuri’s. it’s just a different kind of smile though.

for some reason you found yourself sitting in the student section. cuddling up in your skims set as you attempted to still fight off the cold in the southern air. kami wasn’t attached to your hip this time, saying that this was something you might need to think about on your own. she had given you more than enough advice, and this is where you ended up. 

the game was more lively than the last one. the school was facing it’s number one rival and we were down 15 in the third quarter. halftime had just ended, a show was put on by a dog that could ride bikes as his owner directed him where to go. watching them work was the first time she smiled all night, maybe even all day. 

despite the body of students you locked eyes with both girls. shuri was sitting on the bench, anticipating a hopeful return as her coach was looking for any sort of savior. riri was panting, listening in on what everyone was saying at the bench but keeping wide eyes onto you. 

she smiled when she first saw you, but it’s not like you saw anything as you settled into the crowd.

riri had been putting up most of the points, shooting from anywhere and everywhere in a desperate attempt to get a lead on the team. her ball hogging shared advantages and it’s problems when one of the girls was wide open and she went for a three, completely missing it and catching a foul for the other team in the process. 

“udaku, you’re lucky we’re losing,” the coach said, getting deep in shuri’s face. “get your jacket off and get the hell on that court when the whistle blows.”

and she did exactly that. 

the crowd erupted as their savior ran joyfully onto the court. she blew a kiss to the student section and they roared even louder. 

of course, you stood when everyone else did. however, cheering wasn’t going to fix anything that’s happened so far. 

the ball is in their court. riri is playing point guard as she shuffles down the court, telling her other teammates what plays to make with her fingers and hand motions. shuri was towering over the girl beside her, attempting, and failing, to box her out. 

riri, unhappily, passes the ball to shuri, who automatically makes a three from the outside. 

damn, she was talented.

only down 12.

the other team fumbles, losing the ball off their foot and right into the hands of another girl. she passes it off to riri so she can reset the court. they reset it perfectly, landing another three from udaku.

by the end of the fourth quarter they pulled off a miracle, staying down up until the last five minutes. by this time both coaches had subbed players in and out. riri and shuri remained in the same positions, considering it had been working so well. 

down to 5 seconds.

ball is in riri’s hand as she frantically looks around. shuri makes a hand motion, and riri knows exactly what to do. 

the tinier girl barrels down the court. a player attempts to intercept, only to run straight into shuri’s strictly positioned body. 

1 second.

riri lets the ball escape from her fingers, praying to whatever god there is that it makes it in the rim.

it makes it to the rim, but it rolls around. the ball had a decision to make and the entire audience goes silent.

buzzing fills the room.

then finally, the net moves as the ball makes it in.

tigers win!

the crowd erupts into cheers and everyone runs onto the court. for some reason, so do you. an inescapable smile fills your face, showing off every dimple you may have. your face finds riri’s first, and she sees you. the star player pushes past the crowd of people congratulating her and wanting to celebrate.

her arms find your waist as she hugs you from all the excitement. 

you go to hug back, till youre pulled away by the waist. your eyes meet the face, and of course it’s shuri. 

as if no one was in the room, she kisses you. 

shit. 

you can feel the eyes, the lights from the cameras flashing in your face as the two of you lock lips. what had to have been a peck turned into something long as time slowed. you couldn’t find yourself pulling away, bombarded by the environment around you. the feeling of shuri’s soft lips couldn’t even take away the feeling.

you open your eyes the minute the two of you pull away. 

she smiles at you, lifting you into the air in celebration.

you can’t find it within yourself to smile, coming face to face with riri, who has disappointment written all over her face.

hey, atleast we’re making it to the playoffs.

deanna holds your chin in her hand as she wipes a cold washcloth along your cheeks. the three of you migrated to the bathroom from the deck shortly after they wiped your tears and gave you a pep talk. 

“this is real corny,” you fake sigh, looking past deanna’s hand to stare at yourself in the mirror. you meet elisa’s eyes briefly from where she stands with both arms around your waist and head on your chest. 

elisa says, “bitch shut up” at the same time as deanna rolls her eyes and says, “just say it.”

taking a deep breath, you meet your own eyes in the mirror once again, and repeat them. “i am whole on my own, and i attract people who honor that wholeness.”

“damn right,” deanna nods before she continues, “‘my energy is valuable, and i will not waste it on people who don't value me.’”

you repeat. “my energy is valuable, and i will not waste it on people who don't value me.”

“‘i am not responsible for the mistakes, lies, or disrespect of others.’”

“i am not responsible for the mistakes, lies, or disrespect of others.”

elisa chimes in this time, “‘i have a thick, juicy fatty.’”

and if her goal was to pull a laugh out of you, she succeeds. you double over in giggles, over exaggeratedly pushing her off of you in the process. “girl, move.”

“you’re so unserious.” deanna joins in laughing before tossing the washcloth on the counter. she turns back to you, “you good now? you ready to go back out there?”

you take a breath, glancing at yourself in the mirror one more time. your eyes are still a little puffy but the tear tracks are gone. your face is clean and you look… composed. and honestly? you feel composed– almost lighter. like the weight that was pressing down on your chest earlier is shifted. it’s not gone, but it’s more manageable. you can breathe again without that burning in your throat.

“i’m good,” you state,  turning to each of them. “deadass don’t know what i’d do without y’all.”

“we love you!” elisa sings, slinging an arm around your shoulders as the three of you head toward the door. 

you walk through the villa slowly, your shoes clicking softly against the tile. the sun is still high in the sky and all the islanders are scattered around– some by the pool, some on the daybed, some play games around the kitchen.

your mind is clearer now. focused. you’re done crying over situations you can’t change. from now on, you’re choosing you– consequences be damned. and part of choosing you means doing whatever the fuck you want.

you spot cairo almost immediately, lounging on one of the daybeds to the side, one arm thrown behind his head, the other resting on his stomach. his eyes are closed, his face tilted up toward the sun. he looks so peaceful. without speaking, you climb onto the daybed beside him, settling into the space next to his body. he cracks one eye open, glancing down at you, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“was wondering when you’d come find me.” he says, his voice quiet and warm.

“here i am,” you joked, wiggling both of your hands around your face. “you were waiting for me?”

“always,” he says simply, like nothing else was an option for him. you don’t respond; just shift closer, letting your body mold against his. he adjusts immediately, his arm coming around your shoulders to pull you in. you rest your head on his chest.

for a while, neither of you say anything. you just lay there, soaking in the sun, the sound of the pool water lapping gently against the edges. you can feel the exhaustion creeping around the edges, nearly asleep when his voice makes your eyes creep back open. he asks you something random and you answer before flipping the question back to him. 

you trade stories and observations as you lay there– nothing beyond surface level; but he keeps you genuinely entertained with every side comment he makes and you find yourself smiling without realizing it. 

when your conversation fades and your eyes close, you can feel yourself slipping again, dancing on the edge of consciousness. you don’t know how much time passes before your body jumps and wakes you. cairo attempts to hide his laugh, but he isn’t very successful.

“you sleep okay last night?” he chuckles.

you roll your eyes playfully, leaning your head up to meet his gaze. “not really. did you?”

“nah, i’m not too used to being here yet. kept looking around wondering where i was at.” cairo’s eyes trace your face, looking from your nose to your lips, to your cheeks to your eyes, and right back to your lips. “don’t fall asleep, cause i might too.”

you’re silent for a few heartbeats as you watch him watching you, and you slowly smile when his eyes catch on your lips again. you run your tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters, and your smile grows when his eyelashes flutter in return. “i know something that might wake us up a lil.”

it’s almost too easy, the way his eyelids grow heavy as he looks between your eyes and your mouth again– the way he leans in when you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. before you can blink, he has an arm around your waist, pulling you close enough to bring his lips to yours.

this kiss is soft. timid. cairo’s lips are smooth and he tastes like the fruit he had earlier; he doesn’t rush or push you for more. he just lets you lead, lets you set the pace. and technically, it’s nice of him. but it’s not what you want at all. you kiss him harder, while leaning back at the same time, using the hand at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. he responds immediately, hand tightening on your waist as he angles his head to deepen the kiss.

you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your eyes searching his. he’s looking at you in a way you don’t want to analyze– so you kiss him again, more urgently this time. your hand slides down from his neck to his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. he groans softly against your mouth and you block the sound from your mind.

your hand moves even lower, fingers brushing against the waistband of his shorts and grabbing at the fabric to pull him towards you; on top of you. he comes willingly, shifting his weight so he’s hovering over you, one hand braced beside your head and the other still resting on your waist. 

for a flicker of a second you think back to your first few days in the villa, how jermajesty read you so easily– how he knew you didn’t like nice from observing you in conversations with other islanders. you think about how every kiss with him was different from this because he knew where to put his hands, knew how to grab you, knew how to bend you to his will.

where cairo was sweet, jermajesty was fire.

and it pissed you off to no end.

you wrap one leg around cairo, pressing the heel of your foot into his back to force him closer– kissing him deeper to drown out the thoughts.

that night, a challenge text is sent to sarah’s and ruben’s phone simultaneously; reading ‘islanders, the villa and casa amor will go head to head in tonight’s game ‘temperature rising’.’

both the main villa and the casa amor villa gather at their respective firepits and sit, waiting for instructions. there’s a large red circular platform set up in front of both the casa amor and villa firepits, as well as two bars with a heart on top on either side of it. one heart is blue and labeled ‘casa’ and the other is pink, labeled ‘villa’. 

only in the main villa stands a machine meant for mixing things–in this case balls, allowing for a random draw. each ball has the chance of being labeled kiss, tickle, dance, lick, suck, or nibble.

once again, both isaac and deanna’s phones simultaneously chime, reading: ‘you will be going head to head with your partner who’s currently in the villa. first up, deanna versus isaac.’

they’re told to choose a partner to compete with– deanna picks a boy named avan and isaac picks sarai, and deanna proceeds to pull ‘kiss’ from the machine. what follows is a competitive blur of heated exchanges, both firepits growing louder and more rowdy. you watch the pink bar closely as deanna and avan take their kiss a step further– doing some kind of fucking acrobatics, resulting in two bright pink lights appearing on the villa bar. the casa bar only shows one blue light.

back and forth it goes– something earns the villa a third pink light, while another thing earns casa two blue lights. everyone in the villa jumps up when the pink bar is illuminated all the way to the heart at the top. the villa wins. a chant is started in the villa as the islanders in casa groan and sit back down, dejected.

the second round is with elisa and keem against deon and kami, and it’s nibble. you feel bad for them– though you don’t know why you would ever doubt elisa, because she pulls another win in for the villa.

the third round is with sarah and cj against ruben and nia, and it’s tickle. casa takes the win this time, though the two groups were neck and neck for what felt like hours. 

when your phone chimes in your pocket, you jump– not expecting to be next. you pull it out, already knowing what you’re about to see. you clear your throat, “‘next up, (name) versus jermajesty.’”

and of course, you call cairo up to be your partner. he kisses your cheek before you walk over to the machine– where you pull ‘lick’. you wave the ball around, sticking your tongue out and doing a dance in place. you’d pulled the one you wanted.

when you get the okay to start, you don’t waste any time. cairo stands in front of you and you drop to your knees without hesitation– the villa immediately erupting in shock screams when you place your hands on his calves for balance, lean in close, and drag your in a deliberate line up his pants. your round becomes a blur of movement and heat. the two of you take turns pushing and pulling each other up and down, him licking a trail over your collarbone as you arch into him, escalating with every passing second. 

the adrenaline is pumping through your veins, making you laugh breathlessly under the screams and stomping that sound out around you. cairo guides you onto your stomach on the ground and grabs your ankle. you feel the wet heat of his tongue at the very tips of your toes, following a path straight up your calf, to the back of your knee. his tongue trails over one thigh while his hand mimics the path on your other thigh. he reaches the small of your back and continues up… and up… and up. 

you hear it before you see it– the shouts, cheers, followed by all of them standing and jumping. you push yourself up onto your hands and knees, breathless, and cairo helps you to your feet. you’re both laughing on your walk back to your seats, and you chance a glance back to the red circle platform and the score bars on either side.

the pink bar– the villa– is lit all the way to the top, the heart flowing bright. when your eyes shit over to the blue bar, you stop in your tracks.

because the casa bar hasn’t moved. not a single light.

you blink, staring at it, smile faltering. did jermajesty…

did this nigga just throw the competition?

in casa amor, jermajesty sits after taking his turn, ignoring the annoyed looks from half of the casa girls as well as deon. he pulls his phone out when it chimes, and reads loud: “‘(name) and cairo win the round for the villa.’”

a round of groans ring out around him, but all he can focus on is the phone in his hand. he rubs his free hand down his face before closing the phone and shoving it back in his pocket, mumbling, “cairo? fuck kinda dumbass name is that?”

isaac gives him a look as if to say ‘really?’ before the text alerting them of the next round comes through.

back in the villa, alexis and aaron are up against brandon and zara. you lean back, right up against the arm cairo has resting on your seat, as you watch them pull ‘suck’ for their category. 

cairo rubs at your arm and leans down, whispering into your ear, “our round was the best by far. we got so much chemistry– i can see you and i winning this whole thing for real.”

“wait, what do you mean?” you smile, slightly confused and half distracted as you glance over at him.

“what?” you watch something flicker across his face and disappear just as fast. “oh, i mean this challenge. i could see the villa winning.”

you don’t reply; going back to cheering for aaron and alexis– because despite wanting her to go to hell, it was still a point for the team you were on.

when the challenge ends and the villa is declared the winner, you’re absolutely riding the high of it– agreeing when cairo pulls you to the photobooth. once you’re both inside, you can barely wipe the smile off of your face as you direct him to sit. you stand, back facing the camera, and move both of your hands to rest under your ass. you grin over your shoulder when cairo catches on and leans forward, one hand on your hip as he opens his mouth– pretending to take a bite out of your ass. 

the flash goes off and you move to sit next to him as he’s still laughing from your first pose. you mumble, “cute shit this time” as you raise your hand in the shape of half a heart. he mimics you, connecting his hand to yours and you both cheese as the flash goes off again. 

he pulls you into his lap before you can move, and you adjust yourself as quickly as you can– throwing an arm around your shoulder and sticking your tongue out at the camera. his fingers are spread on your waist as he mimics you as the flash captures the moment again. 

“last one,” you murmur, still on his lap.

cairo turns his head until you’re nose-to-nose, lifting a hand to the back of your neck. before he comes any closer, he whispers, “you good with this?”

the devil on your shoulder is jumping for joy. “mmhm,” is all you can reply before he presses his lips to yours. you wait for the final flash to go off before you stand, grabbing the photo strip when it prints. you show it to cairo, not really paying attention to what he says before you look over at him, “c’mon let’s get ready for bed.”

you walk ahead of him, smirking as you hold the photo strip tight in your hand. you were positive you would find the perfect home for it.

the competitive energy in the villa is carried into the next day. 

it’s mid-afternoon as majority of you are stationed at the ping pong table– you and avan go up against asia and simon while everyone else acts as the audience and refs. the score is tied, which means you trash talk a tiny bit more and constantly point straight ahead in attempts to get the other team to look behind them and miss their shot.

when it finally works, you double over with laughter as asia throws her paddle down dramatically. “fuck outta here!” she groans, moving as another casa boy takes her spot. 

“undefeated.” you place a kiss to your muscles as you ‘flex’.

“alright run it back–”

“girls… girls!” alexis’s voice cuts simon off, sharp and urgent. you glance over your shoulder and squint, seeing alexis near the entrance of the villa, waving her arms frantically. the other girls– sarah, elisa, and deanna– immediately drop what they’re doing and sprint toward her. even asia starts to jog from her place next to you.

but you don’t move yet.

instead, you watch as they crowd around alexis, all of them leaning in to see whatever she holds in her hand. their reactions come in waves– gasps, hands flying to their mouths, and a chorus of “oh my god”, “what the fuck”s.

you don’t know whether you want to let curiosity carry you over or if you want to pretend you never saw anything, turn around, and continue playing.

“what’s going on over there?” cairo asks from his spot in a chair a few feet from you.

“i don’t know,” you whisper, eyes still locked on the group. you’re just starting to turn back to the table when you see elisa.

she’s standing at the edge of the girls, now the one holding whatever alexis had. her face crumbles as she stares down at it– slowly at first, then all at once– and she covers her mouth with both hands as tears stream down her cheeks. you drop your paddle and break into a jog, holding the mic pack attached to your bikini as you weave through the villa until you reach the group.

“what happened?” you ask once you reach them, wrapping your arms around elisa immediately, pulling her into your chest. she buries her face in your shoulder and you feel her body shaking with quiet sobs. 

sarah, now holding whatever it is, holds it up for you to see– her hand shaking slightly. it’s a postcard with six pictures and one line of cursive scripture: ‘with love, from casa amor’. your eyes scan the pictures quickly, taking in each image.

isaac is kissing a girl– though it must be from last night’s challenge because from the angle you can see the red circle under him. you glance at deanna, seeing she looks more annoyed than anything else.

shaun and brandon are mid-kiss with casa girls in their photos– and there's no doubt it's outside of a challenge. asia, possibly the most unbothered person you’ve ever met, is only shrugging and saying that “she’s been doing the same”. you don’t care to look at alexis.

deon is also mid-makeout with his shirt off, and it makes your lips curl up in disgust, holding elisa tighter and running your hands through her hair.

ruben’s picture is innocent, no physical boundaries crossed.

and jermajesty…

he’s mid-laugh, head titled back slightly, that angelic smile on his face. it makes your heart ache just a little. there’s a girl sitting in the chair beside him, though they’re seated a respectable distance apart. no touching. no closeness, nothing that screams anything more than a conversation. but it still hurts to see him growing closer to a girl that isn’t you.

you dismiss it quickly, as if you’re brushing dirt off of your shoulder.

“come on my love, let’s go sit,” you guide elisa to a couch off to the side– asia and deanna following you. “you’re gonna be okay, baby, i promise.”

in casa amor, jermajesty flips through sheets and covers on his bed, searching for the phone he knows he left in the bedroom. he’d gotten up later this morning than usual, because he’d been distracted by the pictures in his photo album. when he finally found it tucked inside of his pillowcase, he heard the noises coming from downstairs.

voices. loud, overlapping, rising in volume. he jogs down the stairs, phone in hand, and immediately spots nearly everyone huddled near the middle of the villa. their shoulders were pressed together, heads bent low.

jermajesty approached cautiously, not really thinking anything of it. “the hell is happening?” he called out as he got closer. no one answers. they were too busy passing whatever between them, varying degrees of irritation and surprise on their faces.

when jermajesty finally reaches the huddle, deon is laughing as he hands what looked like a postcard over. “look at this shit. they moving crazy over there.”

“on god, if they can do all that then we can too.” brandon shouts, using his arms and hands for extra effect. “they’re kissing on other boys and we’re supposed to sit here loyal?”

his stomach tightens hearing that last sentence. he has an urge to rip the postcard in his hands before even looking at it, but he swallows and looks down anyway; scanning the images quickly. 

and he didn’t mean this offensively, but he didn’t give a fuck about the other girls. didn’t care what deanna, asia, or elisa were doing, nor did he care what alexis and sarah were doing. there was one girl he was looking for, and one girl only.

jermajesty found your picture in the bottom right corner, under the cursive reading: ‘with love, from the villa’. his breath catches in his throat, seeing you laid out on a daybed, underneath the weight of someone who wasn’t him. was this cairo?

despite wanting to throw the postcard to the ground, he can’t stop himself from leaning closer and analyzing every inch of the photo; his heart racing and blood rushing in his ears so loudly that every other person around him fades into the background. your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer– so close that your bodies leave no space between. both of your eyes are closed and you’re wearing his favorite lip combo– you knew that. you had to know that, you had to have been doing this on purpose.

your thigh is raised, but the angle of the camera cuts it off so he can’t see where your leg is exactly. if it’s wrapped around cairo, if it’s being held by cairo. but he didn’t need to see it, his mind was already filling in the rest.

the air left his lungs in a violent rush, like someone had punched him square in the chest. his hands tighten around the edges of the postcard, knuckles going white, and for a movement he can’t breathe– can’t think– can’t do anything but stare at the image in front of him.

your face looked so peaceful, content. like you wanted that– you wanted another nigga on top of you. 

jermajesty knew that you were both hurting, that you hadn’t left on the best terms but you left on better terms than you were and he thought that meant something– hoped that meant something. hoped that you were both in the same place, same mindset. that you were both trying to figure out how to get back to each other and that casa amor was just a test to survive before he could fix things.

but this? he didn’t think this was a test. it looked like you were moving on.

his stomach turns, a wave of nausea rolling through him so hard he has to swallow it down. his throat burned, his chest felt tight, his vision blurred at the edges. he wanted to scream when the someone–he couldn’t see who– takes the postcard from him to look at for themselves; but he doesn’t know if he wants to scream from frustration or from gratitude for taking the postcard from his line of sight.

maybe from frustration, because when he blinks hard, the image is still staring back at him– burned into his mind. your arms around cairo’s neck. your lips parted. your bodies pressed close.  

“yo, maj– you good, bro?” isaac says, placing a hand on jermajesty’s shoulder. but he can’t answer.

his jaw was clenched so tight it hurt, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breath. this was his fault. he’d kissed alexis and lied to you. pushed you away even when it wasn’t his intent at all. and now you were doing exactly what he deserved.

“if she’s moving like that, you might as well do the same, bruh.” deon shrugs.

the voices around jermajesty blend together, overlapping, laughing, joking, shouting. his eyes stung, hot and sharp, and he blinked hard, refusing to let anything show. not here, not in front of the people around him.

he turned, his movements stiff and mechanical as he walks and walks until he finds a quiet corner. he sits heavily on the edge of a chair– his elbows resting on his knees and clasped hands brought up to cover his eyes.

here, he let’s himself truly feel it. the weight of it crashing into him all at once– the realization, the devastation, the guilt– it was so overwhelming that it made his hands shake. he couldn’t stop imagining the conversations the two of you could be having. did you get along more with cairo than with him? did he make you happier? he’d hoped even if you were angry that you would still hold on for him– and was that selfish… toxic of him to wish for?

but that picture… it looked like you weren’t coming back.

BEACH HUT (CONFESSIONAL)

jermajesty sits again with his elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together. the producer off camera asks questions in an attempt to get him to talk about the situation. “how am i feeling?” jermajesty repeats, voice low and rough. “i mean, i thought… i thought we were both in the same place. i fucked up and i know that, and things got messy. and no excuse i have can take away from that fact. but i want to fix it. no one will ever amount to her for me. i think about her every second of every day, and i’m not just sayin’ that to say it. but seeing that picture… seeing her with him like that, it just–”  his voice breaks and he pauses, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds. the producer off camera asks if jermajesty feels like you’re moving on. “i mean… yeah, what else am i supposed to think? she’s holding someone else close… i just hope i’m overthinkin’ this shit, that this isn’t really it for her, or for us–” his voice cracks again and he can’t stop the tear from falling this time. his breath comes faster, more shallow, and he moves his hands to cover his face– leaning back against the couch and covering his eyes with both of his arms. “fuck!” the camera keeps rolling, but the confessional stays silent besides the breaths that fall from jermajesty’s lips.

-

You’re not sure what set it off. Maybe it was the way Marlon’s arms lined with veins, the aggressive tone in his voice when he gets mad at one of his friends, or maybe it was ovulation.

Either way, you needed him and now.

You let out a huff of frustration, standing on your feet. Marlon’s eyes were trained on the violent game, not noticing you walking over. In your head you felt like a lion reaching its prey.

You draped your chest across his back, rubbing on his arms. His familiar scent filled your nose and your eyes practically rolled back. God, you were feral. “You okay, ma?” He asked.

You couldn’t bother to respond, you rather use your energy doing something else. You planted soft kisses on his neck, taking your sweet, precious time.

The warmth in your tummy only got hotter as your tongue lightly trailed against his neck. “Baby…,” he started with a light giggle, shifting his head away from you. “I gotta focus.”

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. His game was the least of your worries. Your hand trailed down his body, landing on his print. His breath hitched at the sudden pressure.

“I need you.” You whispered in his ear and you felt the small shudder of his body. Marlon felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He was in an intense match, almost on the verge of securing victory but his very beautiful girlfriend is begging for him. Before he could come to the final conclusion, you stood up straight.

“Just stay right there, baby.” You told him, walking to his side. He glanced at you quickly, trying to balance his attention between you and the game.

You dropped to your knees, crawling to the middle of his legs and his stomach flipped. He knew exactly what you were about to do, and it is about to be hell for him.

He muted his mic, “Ma, I can’t focus like this.” He told you with a sigh. “Yes you can, you got it.” Your nails glided up his covered thighs, stopping at the waistband of his sweats.

He exhaled out of his nose, feeling the rise of hard-on. You were perched comfortably between his legs, looking up at him as he tried to keep his composure.

You were practically drooling to see his dick, and wasted no time to tug them down. As much as he acted like he didn’t have the time for this, he sure did lift his hips to help.

An airy laugh left your lips seeing his eagerness. His dick finally came into view, and you licked your lips from pure desire.

You wrapped your hand around him and he let out a shaky breath. He felt hot and heavy, excited to feel him inside of you. But you wanted to torture him a little. “Turn your mic on.” You demanded.

A sliver of fear ran through his eyes and your hard stare let him know you were serious. You were extremely stubborn—to the point you were going to get what you want one way or another.

A shaky hand came up to his headset, turning the mic and attempted to lock back in. Your tongue lolled out and you swirled it around his tip.

The screams and laughters from his friends were heard from inside the headphones but Marlon couldn’t even focus on that. You sucked him into your mouth, trying to go as far as you could.

He had to fold his lips inwards to hold back a moan, and his hands stopped. He couldn’t play like this, “yo, Marlon, you good?” One of his friends asked noticing the silence and lack of movement from his character on screen.

“Yea bro, I got distracted.” He mumbled taking a deep breath to start back up. You continued to suck him up, coating him in your spit creating a mess between his thighs.

His eyes blurred from the suction and sloppiness of your mouth. His stomach caved in, and his fingers trembled against his controller. “M-ma,” he whispered, trying to alert his friends.

You took no notice to his words, using your hand to twist the base of his dick while you licked and sucked on the tip. His eyes rolled back, and his palm landed on the back of your locs.

He took his headset off and flung it across the room, overwhelmed from the pleasure to care about the game. His hips rocked into your mouth as he moaned. “Fuckkk, just like that.”

You hummed around his dick, sending vibrations through him. “You gon’ let me nut in your mouth?” He managed to get out. You pulled off of his dick, drool coating your chin and looked up at him with hazy eyes.

Your hand continued to stroke all of him, paying extra attention to the tip creating a slick slimy sound. “I want you in me.” You told him, biting your bottom lip.

You looked like pure sex right now and he needed that so bad. “Shit, get on top of me.” He said. You wasted no time, standing and tugging off your bottoms and panties before situating yourself over his soaking tip.

You both stared down where you two were about to meet anticipating the feeling. You slid yourself down and you both moaned at the feeling. Your warm walls clenched around him while his dick stuffed you full.

“Oh shit,” you mumbled, dropping your head into the crook of his neck. Your legs trembled from his size, and you tried to slow down your breathing but he felt too big and way too good.

You jolted after he laid a smack on your ass, “I thought you needed me, ma, go head and ride that shit.” He continued to palm your ass, one hand gently grasping your locs to bring you into a messy kiss.

Your tongues explored each other’s mouth as he distracted you from what he was about to do. Before you knew it, he thrusted inside of you causing you to break the kiss with a moan as he brushed against your g-spot.

“Nggh—Marlon,” You placed your hand on his chest as he continued thrusting into you. The force of his hips made you bounce up, dropping right back to the base.

You were about to lose your mind. Noticing your fucked out expression, he grabbed you by your ass, fucking you onto his dick. “You like this dick, mama?” He questioned with a tilt of his head, listening to the wet sounds of your pussy getting pounded into.

“Fuck yes,” you cried. You practically felt him in your stomach. “You want your nut?” He asked and you quickly nodded. “Bounce on it.” He stilled his hips, resting in the gaming chair to let you take control.

You prepared yourself, gripping onto his shoulders, shifting in his lap. You lifted yourself to the tip, slowly moving back down just to get used to it.

Marlon’s heavy lidded gaze made you feel hot, and you finally started to pick up speed. The sound of your ass dropping into his lap made your eyes roll back.

His hand reached down, pressing a thumb to your clit rubbing it in tight circles. “Wet ass pussy. You takin’ that shit so well.” He mumbled.

Your pussy repeatedly clenched around him, and your fingers tightened against his shirt. “You gon’ cum for me?” He asked, leaning in to kiss and suck on your neck.

“Y-yes.”

Marlon decided to help you both and thrust up, matching your pace. The collision made it feel like he was digging in your guts.

“FUCK!” You cried out as you began to cream on him. “Mhm, make a mess on it, mama.” He smacked your ass once again, not stopping his administrations.

“Shit, I’m bout to nut.” He said. Instead of fucking up into you, he stood up making sure to keep you planted on his dick. He carried you to the bed, laying you down to put your legs on his shoulders.

“D-deep.” You whimpered feeling him kiss your cervix with his tip. He pounded into you as he chased your orgasm. “Take that dick, baby, you got it.”

He groaned into your ear, thrusts getting relentlessly fast. The skin slapping filled the room along with your moans and whimpers. “I’m ‘bout to fill up that lil pussy.” He muttered.

“Please, please, please.”

Your pleas went straight to his dick as he spilled inside of you. He continued to pump his cum inside of you making sure none spilled out.

“Damn, girl.” He said, pulling out. Your legs were slightly shaking as you tried to catch your breath.

Your eyes closed, body finally coming from the high. Across the room you heard screaming and laughter from the headphones.

“Mar….did you turn off the mic?” You asked sitting up.

Marlon’s eyes widened, turning his head towards the headset on the floor.

“Oh, shit.”

Tags:

when you’re finally freed from production and casa officially starts for the girls, you and alexis sit on complete opposite ends of the firepit and pretend one another don’t exist. ariana completes her introductions and brings in twelve new bombshells– telling all of you that you’d gotten double the amount that the villa boys got. 

you barely register ariana’s voice as she introduces them one by one, lost in your thoughts. you glance over every so often– names and faces blurring together. you’re not cold; you say ‘hi’ in return and ‘thank you’ when necessary; but your mind is still replaying the clips from earlier in the morning. still hearing jermajesty admit to someone other than you that he’d lied. still thinking about how easy it was for him to disrespect you.

when you glance up again, scanning the line of boys standing in front of the firepit, your eyes catch on something. someone. he looks away when your eyes meet and you mirror him, focusing once again on overthinking your existence on this island. 

it turns into a game of eye tag within seconds, your skin pricking and goosebumps rising in the warm summer sun– just for you to look up and catch him staring at you. and every single time a shy smile appears as he breaks eye contact immediately, turning to ariana or to the boys beside him. and every single time you notice something different about him.

deep bronze complexion.

warm, kind eyes.

buzz cut. 

one of the tallest in the lineup.

by the time ariana leaves the villa with warm regards and advice–to mingle and be open– the villa is erupting with movement and conversation. you get pulled into a chat with deanna and four boys. maybe it’s the picky side of you, or maybe it’s something completely different, something you don’t for the life of you want to name, but you dissociate the entire time. every comment and question they throw your way goes through one ear and out the other– the same with your replies. you can’t remember even one of their names; nor can you remember an initial. 

some time later you find yourself lounging on a beanbag near the pool, sunglasses in place. you’re sure it looks like you're asleep– you hadn't moved an inch from the moment you sat down– but you’re far from it. you watch the villa silently, observing who’s getting along and who sits off to the side like you. which is why you see the exact moment he starts to head your way. 

your eyes trace him as he approaches– his steps never slowing or hesitating. he may be shy, from the way he’d been looking away from you in the introductions, but he obviously knew what he wanted. you lift your sunglasses over your hair when he comes to a stop in front of the empty beanbag beside you and asks, “is this spot taken?”

with a mostly fake smile, you shake your head ‘no’ and gesture to it. “it’s all yours, uh…?”

“cairo,” he introduces himself, picking up on your question seamlessly. you mumble back a soft “hi, cairo” as he settles into the beanbag,  leaning back to mirror your relaxed posture. his entire body is turned to face you, you take note of it, as a surprisingly comfortable silence falls around you two.

“is it too bold to say i’ve been wanting to talk to you? i was thinking about it the whole boat ride over.” cairo expresses.

“oh, really?” you tilt your head slightly, the way you knew drove jermajesty crazy, a small smile playing at your lips. “and what were you thinking about, exactly?”

“honestly? i was tryna figure out how to come up to you without sounding like every other guy who’s tried already.”

“mmm,” you hum, turning your body to face him fully. pulling your knees up, you start to fidget with your sunglasses– holding the temple tip between your teeth before you continue, “and did you figure it out?”

“nah,” he admits easily, laughing a little. “i’m winging it right now.”

you can’t help the genuine smile that breaks through.  “at least you’re honest, cairo.”

“you got a nice smile,” cairo says suddenly, looking down sheepishly after; as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. 

now it’s your turn to look down sheepishly, slightly thrown off by the compliment. much to your annoyance, it makes you feel guilty– like you were cheating, which makes you feel even more annoyed because why couldn’t he feel like that a few days ago? “thank you, you’re really sweet.” and in an attempt to shift the conversation, “so, what made you want to come on love island?”

“ahh, i was over the dating scene back in atlanta. people moving hella weird, playing games, not being real about what they want. figured if imma put myself out there, might as well do it somewhere i can actually see a person’s true colors.”

“and you think you can see that here? might need you to teach me the ways.”

“i think it’s easier to see who people really are when they can’t hide behind their phone and friends and shit.” he leans forwards slightly, squinting like he was reading fine print across your face. “like right now– i can tell you’re not fully sold on me yet. and that’s cool. i’m not expecting you to be, you got a lot going on right now.”

you blink, caught off guard by how direct he was being. “how can you tell that?”

“you’re guarded as hell,” he states, no judgement in his tone. “but i’m not here to rush you or pressure you into anything. i just wanna get to know you. whether we end up being friends or if it turns into something… more, well i’m good with it.”

for the first time since he’d sat down, you feel your mindset shift just slightly– feeling relief from the reassurance that nothing had to be forced. it makes you drop your guard, makes you want to share more and inquire more. “what do you wanna know?”

“alright, this is gonna be the most important question you answer today: what do you miss the most from home?”

you laugh, not expecting that basic of a question. but, you take the time to really think about it; comparing things you have here to things you had back in california, thinking about your day-to-day life. there’s one answer that jumps out at you, circled in flashing lights in your mind. “i’m a foodie at heart so being here has been rough, okay? i miss my sister’s cooking like crazy. she would make this curry goat and call me to get some every time.”

“curry goat?” his eyes light up. “my mom’s jamaican– i grew up on that shit.”

“ohh, so you think you know about it, huh?” you tease.

“i know i know about it.” cairo shoots back, grinning. “matter fact, when we get out of here, imma take you to my moms crib, she’ll cook for you and everything.”

“already planning dates outside the villa? you’re confident.”

“just optimistic. i think there’s something worth exploring here. and if there’s not? then at least we had good conversation by the pool.” he replies easily. there’s a brief pause as you let his words settle over you. he starts again shortly after, “alright, (name), tell me about california. what’s it like down there? besides crazy expensive.”

and just like that, the conversation flows. you tell him about your city, your family, and all of your favorite places. you can’t stop the memory of telling jermajesty about your spots too, and his promise of going there together, from popping up in your head– but you push it aside immediately after, re-focusing when cairo begins to talk about his city. he tells you about his younger sisters and friends. the banter is easy, natural, and you continue to talk until ariana madix walks back into the villa.

jermajesty missed you. a lot.

he’d barely said two words since arriving at the casa amor villa, and he was pretty sure those two words were “i’m jermajesty”. while the other boys were mingling, laughing, getting to know the six bombshell girls, jermajesty had found a corner near the outdoor daybed–identical to the one in the villa that you loved to throw yourself onto– and planted himself there. arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes covered by sunglasses.

in simplest terms, he wasn’t interested.

the bombshells all noticed immediately. and they tried–god, did they try– to pull it out of him, to get him talking, but every attempt fell flat. and i mean, flat.

so they tried again. two of them, a girl named milene and another named sarai, came to sit by him in his isolated corner. 

it lasted maybe five minutes before they realized it was pointless. 

“so, jermajesty, what do you usually do for fun back home?” sarai asks, leaning in with an overly bright smile. she runs both hands down her hair, and for no reason, because he doesn’t glance at her a single time.

“i don’t know. music mostly.” jermajesty shrugs, sunglasses still on and arms still crossed. “(name) and i been talking about going to this studio back in the city when we get out. she never been in one, but she’s a creative at heart so i think she might love that shit.”

sarai is deadpan, staring at him in disbelief. had he really just said that? “oh. that’s cool.”

“yeahhh, she got good taste in music too. we got three of the same artists in our top five.” it gets him thinking about late night drives with you in the passenger seat, no clear destination. the hint of a sad smile on his lips.

milene tries next. “do you have any tattoos?”

“nah, i been thinking about getting one somewhere on my arm or back,” jermajesty starts. 

milene’s smile grows wider, thinking she’d finally gotten his mind away from his situation back at the villa. away from you. “oh really, what would you–”

“i’m more nervous now though. (name) has one on her spine and was tellin’ me how much it hurt. it might not be for me.”

and it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. in fact, he hadn’t even picked up on the fact that he was. within this last week his mind had just done a complete 180. 

he’d only watched one season of love island–his dad had forced him prior to coming to fiji— and he’d thought that the couples who only focused on each other were idiotic. weak. faking it. he’d thought the whole point of love island was to explore, to keep your options open, to see what else was out there… at least until you reached a certain day/week in the show. 

but now? after following that thought process, pulling the shit he’d pulled, and as he’s sitting in a new villa with six girls rotating through his space, all he could think about was you. 

because when you found something real– something that made you feel seen in a way you had never been before, in a way that was past the bright and shiny things that came with your last name– what was the point of looking anywhere else? what could some other girl possibly offer him that would compare to the way you laughed at his jokes, showed the same interest in him that he showed in you, and gave him space to be vulnerable? what would compare to the way you were so sure of yourself, to your magnetic personality?

nothing. the answer was nothing.

he’d been so focused on not being the ‘weak, stupid’ character to someone watching on their couch, so focused on keeping his options open that he’d nearly closed the door on the one thing that actually mattered– on the only girl he wanted.

“maj?” milene waves her hand in front of his face and, despite attempting to hold it back, he physically cringes at the nickname. nose crinkled, lips slightly curled– though he reels it in quickly, because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt an innocent person’s feelings. 

“my bad, i don’t really mess with that nickname. you can just call me jermajesty.”

and as milene and sarai glance at each other, coming up with an excuse before walking away from him, they roll their eyes in perfect sync. because prior to them coming in as casa bombshells, they’d watched you call him “maj” and “majy”... and watched him give you the same large and dorky grin every single time.

BEACH HUT (CONFESSIONAL)

“he’s in too fucking deep! he’s literally impossible to talk to.” casa girl one. “right? i asked him what he likes to cook and somehow i’m hearing about how he wants to learn this recipe that (name) loves.” casa girl number two. “he’s so closed off. i’ve never seen someone so uninterested in their life. it’s a lil frustrating.” sarai, casa girl number three. “i think he’s just guarded. like he’s protecting himself, maybe? i think he’ll open up.” casa girl number four. “girl, he’s not opening up shit. i tried to talk to him earlier and he just looked at the wall behind me and said ‘oh yeah, that’s crazy.’” casa girl number one, again. “what did you say to him?” milene, casa girl number five. “bitch, i asked what part of california he’s from.” casa girl number one, again. they all laugh before casa girl number six ends with, “well i’m not giving up on him just yet. i think he just needs the right person, and maybe that’s me.”

back in the main villa, only six of the twelve casa boys remain– decided unanimously by all of you girls– and ariana has all twelve of you gathered by the firepit. she announces that it’s time to turn up the heat with a little challenge and continues to explain that each casa boy will get to kiss two girls of their choosing. there’s a chorus of ‘oooh’s and some nervous laughter, mostly from the girls. to no ones surprise at all, you have mixed emotions.

once the boys are lined up, ariana calls up the first– one who’d been chatting up asia and sarah all day. he picks both of them and the kisses are quick and playful. nothing too serious. the rest of the villa cheers and whistles, the energy light and fun.

the second boy goes. then the third. for a brief second you wonder if the other villa has done this yet; if they've broken the touch barrier. if someone has gotten to touch jermajesty in this way, again.

the fourth boy calls out yours and deanna’s name and you have to pretend like this isn’t your least favorite part of being on love island. it’s a little awkward, maybe only to you, as he walks over to you and brings his lips to yours. 

the kiss is fine. soft, brief, and nothing that makes your stomach flip. you kiss him back, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and you smile when he pulls away, because that’s what you're supposed to do.

but you find yourself comparing it all to him. 

the fifth boy calls alexis and, again, your name– and this time you’re pulled up from the couch and pressed to his body as he delivers the same forgettable and empty kiss as before. if this was jermajesty, your face would've been cradled; his hand would've found a way to caress the skin on your hip. the thought of it makes you yearn for him so suddenly that you find yourself angry. and at no one but yourself.

cairo is the last boy to go.

“i’m picking (name),” he states. his eyes find yours across the fire pit. “just (name).”

is this what you need? for someone else to choose you and only you? did you need to push all of the bullshit to the side and throw caution to the wind?

you have only a split second to decide when cairo reaches you, pulling you up onto your heels for the second time. 

fuck it.

“lay down,” you mumble, right before his mouth can meet yours. his breath fans your lips as his lips part in confusion.

“what?” he whispers quickly.

you grab his hand and tug down, hinting at what you want as you verbally direct him once again. “lay down.” he’s flat on his back within seconds and you meet his eyes from where you still stand, giving him a sultry smirk and running a nail along your bottom lip. 

and once again, the villa erupts when you join him on the floor, knees caging him between and under you as you lean down, cup his jaw, and kiss him– pouring every emotion into the moment and pushing every thought of jermajesty out.

the challenge, if you could even call it that, ends shortly after and you find yourself lounging in ‘say less’ with cairo– you on your back with your head resting in his lap, and him playing with the ends of your hair. one conversation fades into the next, until the two of you are surrounded by the twinkling of the stars in the night sky. 

cairo, after your laughter fades and a comfortable silence fills the space, looks down at you. “...so i know you have a situation back in the villa… jermajesty, right? how has it been going with that?”

you frown, but wipe it away fast, picking at your nails as you feign disinterest. you meet cairo’s eyes. “oh that? yeahhh, it’s dead.”

“really? what happened?”

“you really wanna talk about it?” you eye cairo suspiciously, hoping he says no– because you’d done a great job at not thinking of him for over ten minutes now.

“nah, not gonna lie.”

“good, me neither.” you sigh and close your eyes, urging the pinpricks behind them to disappear. “let's talk about something else.”

“lucky for you, i've been wanting to ask this since we sat down,” he chuckles. when he doesn’t continue you let out a questioning hum, meeting his eyes again. “is anyone in your bed tonight?”

this is necessary, this is necessary, this is necessary, plays on repeat in your mind– allowing the flirtation to seep into your expression, lips curving into a small smile. “yeah,” you say softly.

“really? who?” 

“you.”

he meets your smile with a grin of his own, and the two of you stay like that for a while longer before heading inside. 

that night, cairo’s arms are wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm and steady against the nape of your neck. he’s comfortable. solid. objectively, there’s nothing wrong with the way he’s holding you.

but your body knows the difference.

it knows the weight of jermajesty’s arm draped over your waist is heavier, more possessive. it knows the way jermajesty pulls you closer in his sleep, like even unconsciously he needs you pressed to him like a second skin. it knows the soft noises he makes in his sleep, the tickle of his curls against your back when his unruly sleeping has the top half of his body in the middle of the bed instead of the top.

the body next to you now isn’t the one you’ve gotten used to sleeping next to for weeks. it’s almost as if you’re in fight or flight the whole night. every time you realize your muscles are tensed, you relax them… just to repeat the process over and over. you have to physically prevent yourself from leaving the bed to go stand outside, near the wall where you can see the other villa lit up miles and miles away. 

you close your eyes and will yourself to relax again. will yourself to just fucking sleep.

but you can’t. because every time you start to drift, your mind fills in the gaps: phantom grip against your waist, sleepy and soft snores in your ear, unconscious protests from him whenever you shift even an inch away.

the hours drag deep into the night. you manage maybe an hour of sleep as the sun starts to rise, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange. 

you hate your life when the shades rise and you’re all woken up to start the day. cairo shifts behind you, his arms sliding away as he stretches. “you up?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

“no.” you reply, keeping your eyes closed.

he only laughs as he gets up and leaves the room, heading down to the kitchen. when you’re sure he’s not coming back, you sit up yourself, attempting to shake off the exhaustion clinging to you. you feel like you’re moving through water as you go through your routine in the bathroom and walk to the makeup room, settling into your spot and doing the most half-assed hairstyle possible. 

you’re barely halfway through bringing out all your makeup when deanna pops up beside you.

“come outside real quick,” she says, tone leaving no room for argument.

and with no energy left in you, you sigh and follow behind her.

the deck is quiet, morning sun warm against your skin. deanna and elisa settle on the bench and you sit to the right of elisa, sliding your sunglasses on. at this point they were your comfort item.

deanna exhales, long and heavy, leaning back against the wooden railing. “i miss my man so much,” she says, with a sad eye roll. “like… i know it’s only been a day, but i just–” she pauses, shaking her head. i miss isaac. i miss talking to him. i miss him.”

“have you been talking to any of the boys here?” you ask, bringing your knees to your chest.

“girl, not for real. i’m just going through the motions at this point. casa is not for me, i’m a lover girl and i don’t want to love on any nigga but isaac.”

elisa nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “yeah, i feel you. keem’s been great,” elisa mentions the casa boy she’s been talking to, “but i miss deon’s dumbass.”

you stay quiet, staring out at the water farther out. there’s a burning in your throat that won’t go the fuck away.

“what about you?” elisa asks, turning to look at you. “how’s it been with cairo? that kiss was somethin’ serious.” 

you force a smile and swallow, but the burning in your throat stays. “it’s great. he’s really sweet, honestly. a real catch.”

deanna narrows her eyes immediately. “... and jermajesty?”

your stomach swoops. “fuck him,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes purely for show– forgetting your sunglasses covered you anyway. “m’not thinking about him at all…”

but your voice cracks on the word ‘all’ and your next breath hitches. your bottom lip starts to wobble and you press your lips together as you look away from them, blinking rapidly.

but it’s too late.

a tear slips down your cheek, and another follows shortly after.

“oh, baby–” deanna starts, but you shake your head, waving them off and wiping at your face with the back of your hand. elisa and deanna ignore it, already moving to wrap their arms around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it makes your chest ache even more. they give you the space to break.

“i’m try–ing so hard,” you choke out, your voice cracking as the tears start to fall faster. “m’trying but i can’t, i-i can’t stop comparing everything to him. and i’m serious, cairo is so sweet, but it’s not– it’s not maj. and i hate that. and i keep replaying everything in my he-ad, like–” you press a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath. “we were so good together. everything was so natural with him. i didn't have to think about what to say or how to be, i just was, and he got me.”

you wipe at your face but the tears don’t stop. elisa brings a hand to the back of your head and gently pushes until it rests on her shoulder. 

“and it was him,” you continue, your voice raw and shaking. “the second i walked into the villa, it was him. nothing could’ve made my head turn from him at any point, let alone make me dis–disrespect him. it was always gonna be him for me.”

as if your body is trying to push every tear out now, the clips you watched replay in your mind. “he had so many chances to stop, he could’ve pushed her off and told her no. i wasn’t even a tho–ught in his mind. i didn’t matter–”

“shhh,” deanna hushes you as she switches her seat so that you sat in the middle. she wraps her arms around you again and the three of you sit there for what feels like hours– them holding you tighter, letting you cry and break and release everything you’ve been holding in.

-

you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."

the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?

"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."

you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."

he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.

"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"

you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."

he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"

your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."

"mm. no other reason?"

you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."

"exciting... how?"

you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."

"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."

you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."

he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"

you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."

he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.

"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.

you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."

he smiles. "you really don't."

-

the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.

your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.

he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.

"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.

you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.

"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"

you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.

he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.

he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."

"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.

you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"

he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.

your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.

"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."

you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.

your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.

"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."

you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.

he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.

"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.

he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.

"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."

you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."

he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."

-

it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.

there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.

he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"

he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.

next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.

"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.

he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.

"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.

you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.

his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.

you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.

"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.

-

you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.

he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."

you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.

he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"

you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.

you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.

you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "

"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."

your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.

he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.

"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.

you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."

you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.

"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.

"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."

"fuck! baby slow down, ahn, we're gonna get caught mmfuck, please!"

"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.

" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.

his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.

within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.

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"First of all, whoever said my lace is lifting in the back...your mama is a man."

You leaned in closer to the ring light, squinting at the chat flying across your iPad screen. The tiktok live was currently sitting at eighty four thousand viewers, and every single one of them had decided today was the day to choose violence.

"I’m serious," you muttered, parting your freshly installed 30 inch bustdown middle part. "Don't play with my stylist like that. She glued this down with the tears of my enemies. It’s sitting. It’s melted. It’s giving scalp but you bitches are just blind."

User38492: Not the wig defense protocol 😭 Kayla_From_The_Block: GIRL forget the hair, who was that tall shadow in the background of your vlog yesterday?? TeeTee_Bandz: Wait hold on because I saw him too! Tall, broad, and moving like he own the place. Mya.M: SPILL THE TEA SIS. WHO IS HE?!

You paused, your edge brush frozen mid swoop.

Damn. You thought you had cropped that clip perfectly. It was a three second transition in your "Spend the Day with Me in LA" vlog- just a quick aesthetic pan across your living room to show off the new sofa. But the internet FBI apparently had 4K vision and a magnifying glass.

"What shadow?" you asked, trying to keep your face deadpan. You went back to swooping your baby hairs, acting like your heart didn't just do a little skip hop drop. "Y'all are hallucinating. That was probably just the coat rack. Or a ghost. This apartment is old as hell, I keep telling y'all."

Breezy_B: A coat rack in a designer Balenciaga hoodie? Chile, please. NoName90: And the coat rack got shoulders like a linebacker? Okay. RealRecognizeReal: Is she blushing??? OH SHE BLUSHING.

"I’m not blushing- black people don’t blush!" you yelled, laughing despite yourself and covering your face with your long, acrylic french tips. "Y’all are so nosey! This is why I don't show y'all my business. Can a girl just live? Can I just have my little apartment in peace without a whole interrogation committee?"

The truth was, you did have a man. And not just any man.

You had been lowkey seeing Jermajesty Jackson for the last six months. Yes, that Jackson. The legacy, the boy with a name so grand it sounded like a decree issued by a medieval king. He was sweet, incredibly fine, ridiculously tall, and, much to your amusement, absolutely obsessed with you.

Up until this point, you guys had kept things strictly on the low. You weren't hiding, but you definitely weren't broadcasting. In the influencer world, once you show your relationship, it belongs to the public. You weren't trying to have tiktok tea pages analyzing your man’s micro expressions to see if he secretly hated you.

"Anyway," you tried to pivot, grabbing your lip gloss. "So, I’m thinking about doing a closet sale next week because..."

The apartment door clicked open.

You froze. The chat froze- or rather, it started moving so fast the text became a blur of vertical light.

You heard the heavy, unmistakable thud of size 12 designer shoes hitting the hardwood floor. Then, a low, melodic hum. He was singing. Because of course he was. The man couldn't walk into a room without sounding like a three part harmony.

"Baby?" his voice boomed from the hallway. "I got the tacos from that spot you like. They was packed but you know I got us taken care of."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Jermajesty, please, not right now, you prayed to the heavens.

"I'm on Live, baby!" you called out, trying to sound casual while throwing warning daggers with your eyes toward the doorway.

But Jermajesty was already halfway into the room.

He stopped dead in his tracks just on the edge of the camera’s peripheral vision. He was wearing a black hoodie, with some black sweatpants, and his hair was perfectly curly. He looked down at his hands, holding a massive brown paper bag that smelled like heaven, then looked at you, then looked at the glowing ring light.

"Oh," he said, his eyes widening slightly. "My bad. I didn't know you was tapped in."

"It's fine," you laughed nervously, waving your hand to dismiss him. "Just set it on the counter, I'll be done in a minute."

But it was too late. The chat had officially lost its collective mind.

Keisha_D: BABY??? Tink_88: HE GOT THE TACOS??? TheGhettoGourmet: HOLD ON THAT VOICE. WHY THAT VOICE SOUND SO FAMILIAR? BadLilThing: Show him! Show him! Show him! DripOrDrown: Girl if you don't turn that camera to the left right now I’m unfollowing

"They want you to show your face," you murmured, looking up at him with a helpless grin. "They think you're a shadow demon."

Jermajesty chuckled, a chesty sound that probably made half the girls in the chat weak in the knees. He stepped closer, leaning his hip against the edge of your vanity desk. He wasn't shy, you don't grow up with the last name Jackson and fear a camera, but he respected your boundaries.

"They wanna see me?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don't know, baby. I ain't got my makeup on. My skin might not be camera ready for your millions of fans."

"Boy, stop," you laughed, hitting his hip with your hand. "Your skin is clearer than my future. Quit playing."

"Let me see what they saying," he said, leaning down over your shoulder to look at the iPad screen.

And just like that, his face entered the frame.

The chat went dead silent for approximately one second. Then, it exploded like a firecracker in a trash can.

SpiritualGhetto: WAIT. Lexi.K: IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS??? NoWayJose: JERMAJESTY??? BaddieOnABudget: GIRL YOU GOT A JACKSON?! Mimi_Monroe: Not Jermajesty! Oh you eating good fr Nene_T: HE IS SO FINEEEEE LORD

Jermajesty saw his name flashing repeatedly on the screen and raised an eyebrow, looking down at you. "Damn, they recognized me quick. I thought I had a disguise on with the hoodie."

"You are literally six foot something, looking like majority of your family, Maj. There is no disguising you," you said, tossing your hair back and finally giving in to the chaos. You turned your chair slightly so the camera captured both of you. "Alright, y'all. Yes. This is my man. Satisfied now? You can stop spamming the chat about the Balenciaga coat rack."

Jermajesty looked directly into the camera, waving with a charming, easygoing smile. "What's up, everybody? I'm the coat rack. Nice to meet y'all."

"Don't encourage them," you warned, though you couldn't stop the massive smile spreading across your face.

"Nah, they cool," Jermajesty said, eyes scanning the comments. "They saying you bagged a prince. I don't know about all that, but I definitely bagged a queen."

"Oh, brother," you groaned, covering your face as the chat went into a full cardiac arrest.

Chrissy_Pooh: HE IS A SMOOTH TALKER OMG LoverGirl: The way he looked at her...I’m throwing myself in traffic Didi_100: We need a Q&A! Right now! Turn this into a couple's stream! YeezyTaughtMe: Q&A! Q&A! Q&A!

You looked up at Jermajesty. He looked down at you, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

"You got time before the tacos get cold?" you asked him.

"For you? I got all the time in the world," he said, pulling up a rolling stool from your vanity and sitting right next to you, his frame completely taking over the screen. "Let's give the people what they want."

"Alright, keep it respectful in the comments," you warned, pointing a manicured finger at the screen. "Because I will block a bitch. Do not try me today. Keep it cute or get booted."

"Yeah, keep it cute," Jermajesty echoed, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely too comfortable. "I’m sensitive, y'all. Don't hurt my feelings."

"You are not sensitive," you laughed, nudging him.

"I am! I’m a libra. We feel things deeply," he protested, putting a hand over his heart with dramatic flair.

User9028: How did y'all meet? Who shot their shot first?

"Oh, this is a good one," you said, pointing at the comment. "Because he likes to tell a whole lie when people ask this."

"A lie?" Jermajesty gasped, looking genuinely offended. "Excuse me? I am a man of integrity. I tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Okay, go ahead then. Tell 'em how we met," you challenged, crossing your arms.

Jermajesty cleared his throat, looking directly at the camera like he was about to deliver a monologue. "Alright, so look. We was at this private party in the Hills. Very exclusive, very lowkey. I’m standing by the bar, minding my business, looking majestic as usual-"

"See, lying already," you cut in, rolling your eyes.

"Let me finish! I’m standing there, and I see this beautiful, radiant black woman walk in. She was wearing this orange dress-"

"It was rust colored."

"Orange, rust, whatever, it was fire. And she was walking like she owned the whole villa. I said, 'Hold on. Who is that?' So I did my little walk over. I gave her the look. I said, 'Excuse me, miss, but I think you dropped something.' And she looked at me and said, 'What?' And I said, 'Your standards, because you ain't talking to me yet.'"

You stared at him, completely deadpan, before turning back to the camera.

"Y'all, please do not believe this man," you said, shaking your head. "This is not what happened at all. First of all, he was not 'standing by the bar looking majestic.' He was standing by the buffet table eating chicken like he hadn't eaten in three business days."

"Hey! The catering was fire, I wasn't gonna let it go to waste," Jermajesty defended himself.

"Secondly, he did not use that corny ass pickup line. What actually happened was, he accidentally backed into me while trying to take a selfie with his cousin, and he spilled half a cup of ginger ale down my back."

"It was an accident!" Jermajesty protested.

"He ruined my dress, y'all. I turned around ready to cuss him out- and I mean, I had the words lined up in my head. I was ready to give him the full treatment. But then I looked up, and he was looking down at me with this big, goofy, puppy dog face, saying, 'Oh my god, I’m so sorry, please don't beat me up, I'll buy you a new dress, I'll buy you ten dresses.'"

"And did I lie?" Jermajesty asked triumphantly. "Did I not get you the dress?"

"He did," you admitted, a soft smile slipping through. "He literally followed me around the rest of the night making sure I had water, napkins, and dry cleaning contacts, and even gave me his jacket so I didn’t look a mess. By the end of the night, he asked for my number so he could 'verify the dress delivery.' Smooth, but goofy."

"Hey, it worked," he said, leaning over to kiss your temple. "You here, ain't you?"

Jasmine_Rose: OMGGGG that is so cute! He was sweating! Tasha_T: Not the ginger ale 😭 he was nervous! Kiara_D: He was folding under pressure

"I wasn't folding!" Jermajesty argued, though he was smiling wide. "I was just being a gentleman. My mama raised me right."

LaToya_S: Does Ms. Katherine know about her? Has she met the family?

The chat went wild at this question. Meeting a famous family is one thing, but meeting the Jacksons is a whole different level of pressure.

"Oh, they wanna know about the family," you said, looking at Jermajesty.

"Oh, they love her," Jermajesty said instantly, without a second of hesitation. "My mama loves her. My aunts love her. My grandma...man, grandma wanted to keep her at the house last Thanksgiving. I had to tell her, 'Grandma, she gotta come home with me, stop trying to adopt her.'"

"It’s true," you laughed. "I was so nervous, y'all. You have no idea. When he first told me he wanted me to meet his family, I almost booked a one way ticket to Ghana. I was like, 'Nope, I’m changing my identity, I cannot do this.' I was practicing my posture in the mirror, trying to make sure I didn't say anything too outta pocket."

"You was tripping for no reason," Jermajesty said, shaking his head. "You walked in there and had everyone laughing in five minutes."

"Because I was masking my terror with humor- that’s how I cope!" you shouted. "But no, they are literally the sweetest people. His mom is so gorgeous, and she made me feel right at home. She actually gave me some old family recipes."

"Which she still hasn't cooked for me," Jermajesty pointed out, giving you a look.

"Because you eat too much! If I cook that big pot of peach cobbler, you’re gonna eat the whole thing in one sitting and then complain about your stomach," you shot back.

"I have a fast metabolism," he argued. "I burn it off."

"You burn it off by playing video games and yelling at fifteen year olds on the game," you retorted.

The chat was eating up the banter, the viewer count now climbing past one hundred thousand.

User4820: Who is more clingy?

"Him," you said immediately.

"Her," Jermajesty said at the exact same time.

You both looked at each other.

"How am I clingy?" you asked, offended. "I am a strong, independent woman. I have my own bag, my own apartment, my own schedule."

"Baby," Jermajesty said, leaning forward and looking at the camera. "Let me tell y'all something. This girl right here? If I don't text her back within five minutes, she starts sending me tiktoks of women saying 'If he wanted to, he would.' She starts playing sad SZA songs in her stories."

"That is a lie!" you screamed. "That is a complete fabrication of the truth!"

"It is not!" Jermajesty laughed, enjoying your reaction. "And then, when we sleeping, she gotta have her whole leg wrapped around me like a koala bear. I’m hot, y'all. I’m like a human radiator, and she’s there clinging to me like she’s trying to survive an ice age."

"First of all, your apartment is cold," you defended yourself, pointing a finger at him. "Secondly, you love it. Don't act like you don't pull me right back if I try to move."

"I gotta keep you safe," he said softly, his tone suddenly dropping into that warm, sincere place that always made your heart melt. He looked at you, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of your track behind your ear. "Even if you do kick me in your sleep."

"I do not kick you," you mumbled, looking away, suddenly shy under his gaze.

"You do. You got some strong legs, baby. I think you be running track in your dreams."

The chat was practically sobbing.

Aaliyah_99: I am crying in the club rn Renee_Baby: They are so real for this FineAssGirl: No but why are they actually perfect for each other? LoveLies: Jermajesty is down BAD. Look at his eyes!

"Alright, alright, next question," you said, trying to clear the air before you got too mushy. "We aren't trying to do a whole romance novel on here."

BigDrip_12: Can he do your hair though?

You read the comment out loud and immediately looked at Jermajesty with a devious smirk. "Ooh. Now this is the real test. Maj, do you think you can lay my edges?"

Jermajesty looked at the pink edge brush and the jar of edge control sitting on your vanity. He looked back at the screen, then at your hairline.

"Lay your edges?" he repeated. "Like, swoop them? The little wavy things y'all do?"

"Yes. The swoop de swoop."

"Oh. Easy," he said, puffing out his chest. "Give me the brush."

"Oh lord," you laughed, handing him the brush and opening the edge control. "If you ruin my hair, we are breaking up. I’m telling you right now. This is a high stakes situation."

"Trust the process, baby," he said, taking the brush with absolute confidence. He leaned in close, his face just inches from yours. He put one hand gently on the back of your head to steady you, and his touch was so warm and gentle it made your breathing stop.

The chat slowed, everyone watching intently.

Jermajesty dipped the tip of the brush into the gel. He looked at your forehead like he was Da Vinci looking at the Sistine Chapel.

"Alright, so you gotta do the wave, right?" he muttered, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. He placed the brush at your hairline and made a tentative, shaky swoop.

"Ow, not so hard!" you laughed, wincing slightly. "You're scraping my skin, not painting a fence!"

"My bad, my bad," he whispered, softening his touch. He used his thumb to smooth down the gel, just like he’d seen you do a thousand times. He actually didn't do a terrible job, managing to create a decent, slightly thick, swoop near your temple.

"Hold on," he said, looking at his work. "Wait a minute. I might have found my calling. Look at that! That is a masterpiece."

You looked in the mirror and laughed. "Maj...it’s literally in the middle of my forehead."

"It’s a modern art swoop," he insisted, waving his hand. "It’s avant garde. You don't understand the vision."

"It’s giving 'I fell face first into some grease,'" you teased, but you didn't wipe it off. You looked at him, his face still close to yours, his eyes bright with laughter.

"You love it," he murmured.

"I love you," you whispered back, before you could even think to stop yourself.

Jermajesty’s smile softened into something incredibly warm and private, completely forgetting about the hundred thousand people watching. "I love you more, baby."

The chat exploded into a final, chaotic frenzy of hearts, crying emojis, and caps lock keys slamming.

"Alright, y'all," you said, turning back to the screen with a flush on your cheeks. "We gotta go eat these tacos before they get soggy. Thank y'all for tapping in! Say goodbye, Maj."

Jermajesty leaned over, waving at the screen. "Bye, y'all! Keep supporting my girl, she’s the best to ever do it. Peace!"

You blew a kiss to the camera and hit the 'End Live' button.

As the screen went dark, the quiet of the apartment settled back in. Jermajesty immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

"So," he murmured in your ear. "The whole world knows now."

"Yeah," you said, looping your arms around his neck. "They do. You ready for the crazy?"

"With you?" Jermajesty smiled, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "I’m ready for whatever."

“Was never too good with cars myself. Harold did all the fixin’ when he was still around. You got somewhere to be?”

“Job interview,” you mumble, the leather digging into your brow; you’re trying not to focus on the sweat soaking through your best shirt, or your growing anxiety over your fast-approaching interview time. Donna shifts the basket to her other hip.

“Could try callin’ on Bucky. He works at Rogers’ garage down on Miner Street. It’s Sunday, so he should be home.”

Your forehead peels away from the sticky wheel. “Who’s Bucky?”

Donna nods toward the other side of the park. “Bucky Barnes. White trailer with the boots lined up all neat outside the door.”

“Have I met him?”

“Doubt it,” she replies. “He works mean hours, leaves before sun up, comes back when it’s dark. But he’s always ready to help a neighbor out when he’s here. Real sweet guy.”

You blow a stray hair out of your eyes. “You think he can fix whatever’s wrong with my car?” you ask, your doubt as strong as your hope.

Donna smiles like she knows something you don’t. “Bucky can fix anythin’ he gets his hands on.”

You turn in your seat, spotting the white trailer with the boots out front. It looks devoid of life, like it was plopped onto that spot of land by a strong gust of wind rather than by human design. The curtains are drawn, vines creep up the paneling, the gate on the far side of the yard swings in the breeze, but there’s a rusting brown pickup parked in front of it. Promising enough.

“Okay,” you say. “Bucky Barnes. Mechanic. Got it.”

“Good luck,” Donna says with a grin, tapping your arm before walking away.

You step out into the scorching heat of the late July afternoon and make your way across the park, stepping over discarded children’s toys and overgrown flower beds. As you near the trailer, you see the pairs of boots your neighbor spoke about lined up with military precision, all well worn but still taken care of, not a speck of dust or dirt on them, which is rare in a place like this.

You knock three times on the plain brown door before taking a step back, holding your breath. Grasshoppers hum, the wind whips; you don’t hear anything inside the home for an agonizing amount of time, enough time to double the sweat pooling on your lower back. You’re about to try knocking again when the door finally creaks open.

Out steps a mountain of a man.

Big arms and bigger shoulders, broad chest and long, thick legs. He wears boots identical to the ones outside, blue jeans that are in desperate need of a wash, and a black henley that offers an intimidating glimpse into what those arms are capable of. His dark hair is a mess on top of his head, sticking up in all different directions, and underneath it is a face so unexpectedly handsome, you’re not sure how it ended up in a rundown park like this instead of somewhere on a billboard advertising cologne. Sun-kissed, weathered, and deadly serious, but striking in a way you could never forget, triggering a blush on your already flushed cheeks. And then you meet his eyes: electric blue and narrowed at you under furrowed brows, raising the hairs on the back of your sweaty neck.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, voice low and gravely. It scrapes against your spine.

“Hey,” you say quickly with a 1000-watt smile, showing off your nerves. “Hi. Uh, Bucky, right? I’m your neighbor. I live—“ You hook your thumb over your shoulder. “—back that way. The one with the pink door. Um…I was hopin’ you could help me out. My car, it’s — well, it won’t start. Makes a clickin’ noise every time I try turnin’ it over. Donna said you’re a mechanic and might be able to help.”

His expression doesn’t change. He stares unblinkingly at you.

“I, um—,” you can feel yourself faltering, your heart rate rising as the seconds tick by, “I don’t mean to barge in on your Sunday, but I’m pretty desperate. I have an interview in, like, twenty minutes, and I really need this job. Do you think you could take a quick look?”

He eyes you up and down, assessing. You try not to smile wider in case it leans too close to deranged. “You live here?” he demands. You nod.

“Moved in about a month ago. Sorry we’re only meetin’ now, I should’ve introduced myself sooner.”

You offer your name and stick out a hand. Bucky ignores this, staring past you in the direction of your trailer. You watch as his eyes narrow, like he’s weighing the honesty of your words.

“Look, I can pay you, if that hel—“

“Is it the little silver thing?” he cuts you off.

Your lips part. “Uh, yes. Yeah.”

Bucky grunts and turns back inside, shutting the door behind him. The shock of it leaves you frozen in place, reeling, until he reemerges as fast as he left, carrying a toolbox half the size of you; he holds it easily in one hand like it weighs nothing, but you can hear the stock of heavy tools clanking around inside.

“Let’s go,” he mutters, stepping past you. You struggle to keep up with him as he stalks toward your car, like a man on a mission that he’s already running late for. You sneak glances at him while trying not to trip on the cracked walking path, noting the faded scars on the back of his hands, the ticking jaw underneath his beard, and the very tip of a dark tattoo peaking out from beneath his collar. A feeling churns in your gut.

Everything about him screams rough. Rude. Even potentially dangerous — from his imposing figure, to his curt words, he seems like the furthest thing from what you would call ‘sweet.’

But regardless of Donna overselling his altruism, beggars can’t be choosers, and you’ll call him sweet all day long if it gets you to your interview on time.

Bucky lets out a heavy breath when he sets the toolbox down next to your car. He nods at you.

“Try it again,” an order, not a request.

Your limbs twitch into action like a bee flew under your skirt. Sliding into the hot leather seat, you turn the key in the ignition and are met with the same low ticking noise from before. The lights flicker on your dashboard in protest.

“Terminal clamp.”

You jump, finding Bucky almost cheek-to-cheek with you while he leans through the open door. He’s close enough for you to smell dirt, sweat and something heavier on him.

“Shit,” you hiss in surprise, but he’s already pulling away and moving toward the front of the car.

“Pop it,” he calls out.

You exhale slowly and do as you’re told. Sweet, your ass. Bucky lifts the hood and locks it in place before bending over the hot engine, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt.

You step out of the car, hovering near the door but craning your neck to watch. “Terminal clamp?” you repeat.

Bucky takes a moment to respond, long fingers moving deftly through the cables and wires and plugs and bolts. He unscrews something, and steam leaks out.

“On your battery,” he grunts. “The part that connects it to the wires. It’s rusted down. Look.”

He beckons with two oily fingers crooked in your direction. It’s borderline crass, and you find yourself hurrying over without argument. Bucky’s mouth is set into a hard line as he watches you gaze down at the engine, looking without really seeing.

“There,” he points impatiently to a black box near the front. Your eyes catch on the rust growing over the top of it.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he imitates you, high-pitched and sharp; your eyes snap back to him. He’s clearly not amused by your answer. “When was the last time you had your battery checked?”

“Haven’t had the time lately,” you answer, crossing your arms indignantly over your chest.

“Your daddy don’t check it for ya?” he prods, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans before opening his tool box. Irritation rears up inside fo you. Something about his tone, bitter and mocking, makes you think about hitting him over the head with one of his wrenches.

“My daddy hasn’t been sober enough to tell a battery from a brick since 2009,” you snap.

Bucky pauses while rifling through his tools, but only for a moment. “Batteries need replacin’ every four years. How old’s this one?”

You chew your lip, still thinking about the wrench. Bucky pulls out a small metal plate and a brand new cord, along with a screwdriver that looks like it’s seen better days. When he turns to you, his eyebrows lift expectantly.

“It’s…old,” you relent. Bucky snorts and leans over the car again.

“Define ‘old’ to me, princess.”

A zip of electricity runs down your spine at the pet name, angry and hot. “I don’t know,” you grumble. “It came with the car and I bought it five years ago. And don’t call me princess.”

A ghost of a smirk crosses his face. “Whatever you say, kid.”

You glare at him while he unscrews the rusted plate from the battery. Despite your growing frustration, and the nearing interview time, and the heat pressing down on you from all sides, you quickly become entranced with the way his hands move expertly with the replacement parts. It’s obvious he’s well-versed with the inside of a car.

“This will hold for a few days,” Bucky says, attaching the new cord to the engine. “But you need a new battery. Forget it, and you’ll be needin’ a new car. Am I makin’ myself clear?”

Something about the sternness in his voice creates a pressure on your chest that feels foreign and strange. “Yeah, new battery, got it,” you mumble.

He glances at you but says nothing, screwing in the clean plate. As he finishes up his work, you look back at your trailer, the paint on the front door peeling, the screens torn in most of the windows. You clear your throat. “Donna says you fix a lot of stuff for the folks around here,” you begin. Bucky makes a noise of acknowledgement. “You ever, uh…fix any showers?”

He pauses to look back at you, blue eyes sharp. “That a line?”

“What? No!” you sputter, cheeks on fire. “No, it’s — my shower pressure. It’s shit, it’s…not a pick up line. I’m askin’ if you can fix that, too.”

He grunts, satisfied with his finished product, and closes the hood with a snap. You step back, watching as he tosses the screw driver back into the box and wipes his hands on his jeans again. When he turns to you, his face is closed off, stoic.

“I’m busy,” he says, blunt and to the point. The rejection stings like a child daring to touch the point of a needle for the first time — sharp and surprising and oddly shameful. The embarrassment pulls your eyes away.

“But if I find some time, I’ll let you know.”

His gaze is steady and unreadable when you meet it again. You nod quickly.

“That’d be amazing,” you gush, hands clasped together, “thank you—“

“I haven’t even fixed it yet, save your thanks,” he cuts you off.

“Still,” you reply, taking a step toward him, “I’d owe ya big time. Oh, you’d be doin’ me a huge favor ‘cause I need all the help I can get on this place—“

“What’d I just say, kid?” He glares are you, hands on his hips. “Now go on before you start wastin’ any more of my time,” he snaps, jerking his chin toward the car. You hesitate with your hand on the door, the smile on your face flickering doubtfully.

“Is it…safe?” you ask slowly.

Bucky scowls, mean and dark. “Don’t insult me.”

That gets you scampering into the seat. You twist the key, and after a breathless moment, the engine roars to life, the vents blasting you with hot air, but air nonetheless. You let out a whoop and pat the steering wheel proudly, the hope creeping back in. When you look out the windshield, you see Bucky’s already packed up his tool box and is making his way back to his trailer.

“Hey!” You scramble out of the car. “Hey, wait!”

He doesn’t turn around, just lifts his free hand over his head.

“Thank you!” you call out. He doesn’t respond. You watch him as he rounds his truck and disappears into his home. Then your phone buzzes.

“Shit—“

You’re peeling out of the park in seconds, leaving behind a cloud of dust and two blue eyes that watch you go from the safety of his trailer.

You take the keys out of the ignition and lean back in your seat, the smile on your face still as big as it was when the owner announced you got the job. In that moment, it was like the sun had broken through the clouds after years of rain.

It isn’t anything special, just a serving job at one of the many roadside diners in this small town, but what it stands for is more than you’ve had most of your life. Independence, stability, roots — everything you’ve been chasing after for the last few years now finally within your reach. No longer are you relying on the kindness of so-called friends that kick you out when it becomes inconvenient for them, or the generosity of low-life boyfriends that expect indentured servitude for a bed to sleep in; no longer are you couch surfing your way down highway 70, wondering what your next meal is going to cost you, or if your mother will pick up the phone when you’re too low on cash for gas. Just by getting the job, by finding your own little place to call home, you’ve broken free of the chains that have held your pitiful family lineage captive for years.

That’s worth celebrating.

You grab the six pack off the passenger seat before climbing out of the car. Thankfully, the evening air is much cooler now, and settles gently on your skin. Crickets chirp their congratulations, the breeze pats your back, and the light left on inside your trailer welcomes you home.

You sigh as you take it in, a soft smile on your face. Just this morning, you found the peeling front door, weedy garden and crooked paneling daunting; now it looks like a project you want to dive headfirst into, an opportunity to create something beautiful out of nothing, much like your own life.