Lo

Squirmy, one of the Smee twins, was about to give a presentation in class. It was after lunch, so naturally the poor boy had managed to get something on his face.

By the time you or Hazel reached for a napkin, Felix already had one in his hand.

Another time, Red was searching for something while everyone was hanging out in her room at the Queen of Hearts' Castle.

She looked everywhere.

Under cushions. Inside drawers. Even beneath one of the tables.

She was so focused on finding her missing jewelry that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going.

Luckily that wasn't a problem with Felix around.

Without missing a beat, he quietly stepped closer and rested a hand beneath the edge of the table, directly above Red's head.

Almost as if he already knew what was about to happen.

"Found it!"

Red sprang upright in triumph only for her forehead to bump harmlessly into Felix's waiting hand instead of the underside of the table.

The impact isn't hard, but she still winces.

"Sorry!"

Felix simply shrugs.

"I just have an eye for things."

That's all he ever says.

And you believe him.

It's nice that he's so observant of the people he cares about.

It's just lately…

…you aren't sure what to think anymore.

Don't get it wrong, you have nothing against Felix.

He's genuinely just being nice.

But lately — when it comes to you — it feels like something more.

You love dressing up. Fashion is your favorite form of self-expression.

All of the VKs know that, so they're always happy to offer opinions.

"Tilt the hat a little."

"Lose the jacket."

"Those boots work better."

Usually, it's nothing more than casual advice.

Not Felix.

No.

When Felix notices something that could be improved, he simply fixes it himself.

He's buttoned your cuffs. He's undone the top button of your collar. He's straightened your hat. He's tucked in your shirt.

The list goes on.

Once, he even slipped one of the rings from his own hand onto yours.

"Looks better on you."

He'd said it so casually.

Like it wasn't enough to leave your heart doing somersaults.

You try not to think too much about it.

But every day he makes it a little harder.

Especially after he develops the habit of fixing your necklaces.

The pendant has been sitting crooked against your shirt all afternoon. No matter how many times you adjust it, the chain keeps twisting itself out of place.

You’re close to giving up, but then, another pair of hands gently stills yours.

Felix steps behind you before you can protest, gently turning you toward the nearest mirror.

"Hold still."

His hands are warm against the back of your neck as he carefully unclasps the necklace.

With practiced ease, he untangles the chain before fastening it again, making sure the gemstone rests perfectly in the center of your chest.

His eyes stay fixed on your reflection, checking every tiny detail.

The attention makes your face warm. You instinctively glance away.

Felix notices.

Of course he does.

He gently places a thumb beneath your chin, guiding your face back toward the mirror.

His hand lingers there for just a moment.

Your eyes meet through the reflection.

A familiar, toothy grin spreads across his face as he gives your appearance one final once-over.

“There we go.”

A beat. Felix smiles wider.

"You're perfect."

Your breath catches.

Your eyes widen.

Meanwhile, Felix doesn't seem to think he's said anything unusual.

Satisfied with his work, he gives your shoulders two gentle pats before wandering off to play cards with Luis...

...leaving you standing there, completely malfunctioning.

→ Hazel Hook

Hazel Hook has a habit of holding eye contact.

Given that Harry Hook is the man who raised her, you aren't surprised by it.

It suits her personality. She has the confidence to meet every encounter head-on, never once shying away.

It's what keeps the Smee twins in line.

You've seen the scoldings she gives the boys. Even though they tower over her, Hazel has no problem reminding them of their manners.

Still, she doesn't reserve that famous Hook stare just for them.

On more than one occasion, you've caught it fixed squarely on you. Usually, it happens when everyone is together.

Your usual group is spending the afternoon in Wonderland when Robbie somehow manages to get himself ensnared by an enchanted flower.

The VKs had already warned him not to get too close.

And yet there he is.

You meet Hazel's eyes as Luis and Chloe struggle to pry the vine away from Robbie. Hazel raises a single eyebrow at the scene.

You can immediately tell she finds the whole situation amusing. You can't stop yourself from laughing.

Of course, you still help by distracting the enchanted plant but that's when you begin to notice something.

Whenever something happens around the two of you, Hazel always looks your way.

Whether she's checking your reaction — or silently sharing her own — the two of you always seem to have a brief moment of understanding.

It's… nice.

From the exhausted look she gives you during a class assignment you both know will keep you awake all night...

...to the look of utter disbelief when an Enchantments teacher expects two descendants without magic to make a book fly...

...Hazel is almost always looking at you.

You've grown so used to having her silently on your side that you've started expecting it.

The habit isn't romantic.

Not really.

Though, it does feel strangely intimate.

Especially once she starts using it as a way to check on you.

Today has been long for everyone.

Late to class.

Group detention.

A soda spilled down the front of your clothes.

The VKs are now stuck inside a classroom, ordered to remain as quiet as mice.

You feel miserable.

Though, honestly it could be worse.

Hazel strolls over and drops into the seat beside you. Without warning, she hooks one foot around the leg of your chair and gently drags it closer to hers.

The sudden movement catches you completely off guard.

You stare at her with wide eyes.

Hazel says nothing. Detention’s rule.

Instead, she tilts her head slightly and looks directly into your eyes.

You already know what she's asking.

Are you okay?

No words. No grand gesture.

Just one silent question.

It's such a small thing.

Just a friendly check-in.

...

So why does it make your heart race?

Her unwavering gaze makes you feel impossibly warm.

Seen. Understood.

You quickly nod, trying your hardest not to let your flustered expression give you away.

Hazel gives one satisfied nod in return.

Good.

Question answered.

She settles comfortably beside you, draping an arm across the back of your chair.

A moment later, the familiar tap... tap... tap... of her hook echoes against the tabletop.

Without even looking at them, she's already warning the Smee twins to knock off whatever they're doing.

You're just grateful her attention has shifted elsewhere.

Otherwise...

...you have a feeling she'd notice exactly how hard you're trying to keep your thoughts in order.

→ Max Hatter

It all started because Max Hatter has always been soft-spoken.

Having grown up exiled on the Isle of the Lost alongside his father — and carrying the blame for things that were never truly his fault — Max didn't begin finding his confidence until he was older.

Although he's much more outspoken now, he still prefers being close when he talks.

It simply makes communicating easier.

So naturally, you've noticed…

Whenever Max walks over to talk with someone, he always ends up standing much closer than most people normally would.

You've watched it happen countless times.

He'll begin telling a story or explaining something that happened during his day.

Then, little by little...

...he drifts toward the center of the group.

His voice gradually lowers back into its naturally soft register.

Before anyone realizes what's happening, everyone has unconsciously leaned in around him just to hear what he's saying.

The group ends up packed together in a tiny huddle.

It's only when Pink — currently squished between Robbie and Luis — finally laughs and complains about the lack of breathing room that Max realizes what he's done.

"Oh- sorry!"

He immediately takes a step back and raises his voice a little.

It's a habit you've come to recognize. One he only seems to fall into when he's comfortable.

So you never point it out. You never ask him to give you space. It isn't like he bothers you.

If anything you find it rather sweet.

Unfortunately, that creates another problem.

Personal bubbles don't seem to exist in Max's world once he is comfortable with someone

The common room is especially crowded today.

Keeping a conversation going takes a little effort.

Max wants to finish telling you a story, so without thinking, he simply moves closer. You're already leaning against the stone wall when he casually steps into your space.

One hand comes to rest beside your head against the wall as he continues talking, completely oblivious to how close he is. As though this is the most natural thing in the world.

Then there's the Charming gala.

The AKs are busy making snide comments about you and the other VKs when Max suddenly appears at your side.

The unexpected movement startles you.

You jump. Instinctively, Max catches you by the waist to steady you before you can stumble.

"You alright?" he asks before leaning closer to whisper a sarcastic remark about the AKs.

You can't help laughing.

Though most of your attention is focused on the warmth of his hand still resting against your side.

Or the time you're halfway across the courtyard before Max catches you by one of your belt loops.

With one gentle tug, you're pulled against his side.

"Where're you going?"

"I forgot my homework."

He nods.

"Oh."

Then he lets go and carries on with his day as though nothing unusual happened.

Meanwhile you're left standing there, questioning absolutely everything.

You're just good friends.

Really good friends.

So there isn't anything to worry about.

...

...Right?

Lately, though, your heart doesn't seem convinced.

Then Luis and Max start working out together.

Good for Max. Not so great for you.

Especially not one random afternoon when your study group is gathered in your dorm.

Max wanders in late, still fresh from his workout.

He glances around the room.

Every seat is taken.

You assume he'll simply squeeze in beside Felix or sit on the edge of your bed.

Instead he walks over to you.

Without the slightest bit of effort, he slips an arm beneath yours, lifts you clean out of your beanbag chair, sits down in your place and settles you comfortably back down on his lap.

Your entire brain promptly stops functioning.

Meanwhile, Max doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“There.” He says, opening his textbook so casually.

"What chapter are we on?"

He really will be the death of you.

→ Smee Twins

The Smee twins are foodies through and through.

You didn't think Hazel was serious when she told you they needed to be fed every couple of hours. Then you actually started spending time with them.

She wasn't exaggerating.

Every time you see the twins, they're snacking on something.

And somehow, they always make it look like the greatest thing anyone has ever tasted.

It could be nothing more than bread and jam. Or a simple candy bar. Yet the pure bliss on their faces after the first bite is so euphoric that you'd think Queen Tiana herself had baked it.

They also take snack time very seriously.

Felix learned that the hard way.

One afternoon, he thought it'd be funny to hide one of their bags of chips.

You had never heard Felix Facilier scream quite so loudly. Nor had you ever seen the Smee twins look quite so… dangerous.

Fortunately, the chips were returned.

The twins immediately went back to happily munching away as though nothing had happened.

That day, you made a mental note.

Never interfere with snack time. Ever.

The Smee twins don't share food.

With anyone.

However, you seem to be a special case.

It happened during class.

You'd skipped most of breakfast, and it would still be a while before lunch.

Your stomach chose the absolute worst moment to remind you. The quiet growl echoed through the classroom.

You immediately wrapped your arms around your middle, hoping nobody had noticed.

Then you heard the unmistakable rustling of a snack bag beside you.

You glance over.

Squeaky quietly hands something to Squirmy.

Without saying a word, Squirmy places a granola bar on your desk.

You blink.

The twins simply give you matching thumbs-ups before happily returning to their own snacks.

You ask Hazel about it after class.

She only smirks.

"You must be special."

That's all she says.

From then on, you begin noticing it more and more.

Every chocolate bar is broken neatly into thirds. Every bottle of banana milk is bought in sets of three. Every snack they buy for themselves somehow comes with an extra portion… just for you.

You try telling yourself they're just being nice.

But Hazel's words refuse to leave your mind.

You must be special.

Special how?

You do your best not to dwell on it.

Really, you do.

But it's difficult when they only ever act this way around you.

It's even harder when ice cream is involved.

The twins' favorite dessert comes in a single bowl with two spoons.

The three of you are relaxing outside on a warm summer afternoon. The others are farther down by the water while you quietly read your book beneath the shade.

Without warning, a spoon appears in front of your face.

You look up.

Then blink.

Because it isn't just one spoon.

It's two. One held out by each twin.

Both of them patiently waiting for you to take a bite.

Refusing seems impossible.

So you lean forward and awkwardly accept both spoonfuls. Unfortunately, the ice cream has already begun melting.

Trying to eat from two spoons at once isn't exactly graceful.

Before long,melted ice cream has found its way onto your face.

You instinctively look around for a napkin.

The twins are faster.

"Oops! Sorry! Here—"

You assume Squeaky is offering you a napkin.

He isn't.

Before you can react, he casually wipes the melted ice cream from the corner of you mouth with his thumb then absentmindedly licks it clean.

"Sweet!" He grins.

Your brain completely stops working. Squirmy watches his brother for exactly one second.

“Makes sense.”

Before you can contemplate what he said or stop him, he does exactly the same thing as his brother.

His thumb brushes gently across your chin before disappearing into his mouth.

His eyes immediately light up.

Squirmy nods enthusiastically.

"That is good!"

Silence.

"What..."

You stare between the twins.

"...was that?"

They stare right back.

Looking just as confused as you are.

As if you were the crazy one.

“It would've gone to waste," Squeaky adds with a shrug.

"Mhm," Squirmy agrees with a firm nod.

Neither of them seems to think there's anything remotely unusual about what just happened.

After another beat of silence, they simply pull out two straws and happily finish the now-melted ice cream together...

The bright flourishing lights of the stage that flicker as a reflection in your eyes and also into your camera lens, the lightstick flashing different colors on and off along with the fire that bursts out on crescendos and lasers that move up and down your face gave you shivers down your spine and goosebumps on your skin. The lights that will change the way you look at life and even how you enjoy music were something you never thought you would see. But here you are, with barrier seats, at the Stray Kids Dominate Tour.

Going to a Stray Kids concert was something you had assumed you’d have to give up on going to, with your luck and your location. You live in a place where most K-pop groups don’t tour, which is a pain when you’re trying to connect with other K-pop fans and go to events. Most of your friends who listen to K-pop are online, so you can’t go to concerts with them or go shopping for albums together. It’s not like your town is low in population, just in popularity, which makes it a hard destination for idols. People went crazy when BTS went to Oakland for their Speak Yourself tour in 2018, though you were grateful they chose a less popular spot near you. You and other online people in the same area keep protesting for companies to bring their idols to your city. Some complied and brought their groups, but you didn’t stan them and wanted to leave your tickets to more devoted fans or, sadly, resellers.

But after graduating from college, you had saved up enough money to afford concert tickets. The only thing you had asked for at birthdays was money. People had been happy to comply, though, friends and family who didn’t know you as well were more than willing to just hand you cash. You had picked up as many shifts as possible, even grabbing the attention of your friend who pointed out your dark circles. You almost slapped her. Genuinely. But you knew she meant well. She had brought you lemon squares the next day as an apology.

Thank God, you won the Ticketmaster war. After trying many different locations, desperate to get anything, even nosebleeds, you did it. You had gotten pit 3, row 1. Like you had been living a dream, you pinched yourself. You’d be right in the middle, grateful for Stray Kids to even look your way. You didn’t manifest it per se, but you definitely prayed every night and fell asleep to a Stray Kids playlist in your ear despite being woken up a couple times to God’s Menu or Side Effects. Being awoken at 1:43 in the morning the day before tickets went on sale definitely helped you build up your confidence about getting tickets. You had done the same for other artists such as BTS, seeing the words BTS around town which made you think, in your delusional state, that you’d get a barrier. You did, so you decided to use the same logic for Stray Kids, because you wanted these tickets more than anything. They have been your ultimate group since you started liking K-pop. They were your home, your forever 8.

Months of planning online, searching thousands of pins on Pinterest, videos on TikTok and Instagram, and shopping through many online stores and in malls, you found the outfit that made you most confident and went with the black and red theme, matching your new lightstick. You knew that going with this outfit, you’d be comfortable and stylish, ultimately leading to a perfect concert night. Last concert you went to, you bought boots that were notoriously known for blisters, so you had to learn the hard way and walk home barefoot in the Las Vegas heat with bandages all over your feet. You almost had a stranger carry you back to Mandalay Bay, but you decided against it, risking injury over embarrassment. This time, you were unstoppable. Everything about you screamed hottie, and you had taken millions of photos before the concert even started. You even took a video of yourself to remember when you look back at concert videos.

“Today is the day of the concert! I wanted to look as cute as possible, just in case I see my soulmate. Not to make everything about him, but why do I travel if there’s no hope in meeting him?” You said into your phone camera, doing a small spin to show off your outfit. “This is my fit, I even made my hair and makeup as cute as possible. I practiced it frequently to get the look right, and now I never want to take it off. My clear bag is covered in buttons of all the members, and honestly, it’ll probably be filled to the brim with freebies, and I will keep them all forever,” you laughed at yourself.

This concert, just like many of the other trips, you were hoping to see a red string somewhere in the crowd. It was your biggest dream, a soulmate who also loves K-pop, it was a guarantee that they liked Stray Kids. You could nerd out for hours about the group if you wanted to, so why not have a soulmate that will actually participate in the conversations you had and maybe buy you bubble accounts? It was perfect in theory, the idea of finding someone here to call yours, but the last few K-pop concerts you had gone to in the previous couple of years, you were out of luck—no red string to lead you to the one. LA was about 400 square miles, and you needed to be within 25 miles of your soulmate to see the string. Your soulmate might live in LA, but be in the wrong place at the wrong time and you’d miss them. But maybe, just maybe, since this was your first stray kids concert, you’d be able to find the one. If they were in the stadium, you’d know. You had grown up not being able to see one and gossiping with your friends about who you assumed it was.

Stray Kids’ next stop was in LA, and you decided to take a road trip to save money, because plane tickets were basically a luxury for people fresh out of college. You had a stable job, but it's best to save your money for merch or other items around town. You chose to buy the cheapest tickets for the hotel closest to Sofi Stadium. Not only would you save some cash, but you’d also not need to walk as far on your way home from the concert. You were looking forward to the hotel breakfast buffet the early morning after the concert, one of your favorite traditions. Eating the mildly cold scrambled eggs with the sizzling coffee along with other side dishes like bacon, fruits, potatoes, pancakes, and yogurt was the best part of the post-concert depression. You've got to splurge on food without having to pay money for groceries, it’s how you enjoyed your time traveling looking for your soulmate without spending so much money.

Arriving at your hotel room, you flopped your bag onto the floor next to your twin XL bed. It was small, but the sheets were clean and tucked in. You expected no less from a hotel room you paid the least amount of money for. But it looked so soft. Driving so many hours made you want to pass out. Your eyes burned, begging to close. But you wanted to enjoy every second of your trip before the concert. Day 1 of the Dominate Tour in LA was that night, so you expected a lot of traffic around town. You decided to Uber instead of wasting money on gas. You've got to explore a little, checking out some museums to do a little Namjooning, along with a 3-story Barnes and Noble in the Grove. Everywhere you went had been expecting Stray Kids fans to arrive, so there were deals upon deals for travelers who were here for the boys. You even checked out a K-pop store hoping they’d be participating too, so you decided to buy a variant of your favorite Stray Kids album to get yourself excited. It worked. Pulling a Changbin photocard you hadn’t had left you excited to add it to your ever-growing collection. By the time you were done exploring the vast city of LA and taking photos, it had become dinner time. Eating somewhere fast to provide energy and more time to get ready, you headed back to your hotel room. Playing the Dominate Tour Setlist, you put on everything you needed, packing up your concert bag with your necessities. You wanted tonight to be perfect.

Walking to the stadium a little bit later than you had wanted to because you had gotten distracted listening to music in the shower, you wanted to take some photos of the view you had. You decided you would collect freebies after the concert or sometime during intermission. Reaching for your bag without looking away from the stadium, you lifted your phone in front of your face to snap a picture, when you saw it. A red string tied to your ring finger. Holy. Shit. This was it. This is what you had been daydreaming about since you were little, and especially since you started listening to Stray Kids. Your eyes followed where the red string led. It pointed you towards the stadium, where you had suspected it would be. Someone, out of maybe 70,000 people, was the one who completed the other half of your heart. Someone you’d stay with forever even when times got tough. You had cried to your mother when you were younger about finding your soulmate, especially since she hadn’t found hers. Not many people did. You dreamed about it every night, you saw him in your dreams. He was always just out of reach. You saw him around corners, you felt him linger behind you, but when you went to talk to him, he would disappear. You couldn’t even see his face, it was blurry. Every morning you woke up disappointed, you had hoped the next day would be different. But it never was. It never was. It was never your choice to settle down. Your parents had been close to pressuring you to. You were getting older, you had graduated from college, you needed to date someone. But you never let up, you never could. You wanted to save all your firsts for him.

Walking to your seat, which was way closer to the stage than you thought, you got a really good look at everyone in the crowd. And then at your red string. You looked around. It didn’t seem like anyone was in the audience, or else they might’ve found you by now. The red string kind of disappeared after a good 5 feet, so you only saw the general direction of where the string was going. It wasn’t anyone inside the stadium, it was coming from past the curtains on the floor. God, you hoped it was a staff member who worked at SoFi stadium, or even for Stray Kids. You’d be able to have a soulmate and someone who could get you access to Stray Kids tickets and albums. You started imagining your life with this guy, even though you had never seen him before. Going to the park on a sunny day and sitting on the freshly watered grass under a tree, enjoying fruits and sandwiches packed for you by him, sleeping on your soft couch under a blanket snuggled up against him after watching a scary movie, and not risking moving away from his warmth, meeting his parents and his family and being immediately welcomed into their daily routine and rituals. You had worried, from the time you sat in your seat to the moment the lights started dimming, about how you would navigate the language difference if he did work for Stray Kids or the JYP company. You didn’t speak Korean, and you barely passed Spanish in high school. How would you communicate with the love of your life? You would take the time to learn the language, but in the meantime, you would not be able to understand anything he said. Maybe meeting his family would have to wait. You were already late to arrive at the concert, and you didn’t want to miss the beginning of the concert, as stupid as it sounds, to meet your soulmate. If they had any idea of the premise behind the red string, they’d wait after to meet you.

Since the lights dimmed, you decided to quiet your thoughts down by screaming for the members. The biggest moment in your life and the people that helped you during your lowest were here. The people around you had matched your energy, swinging their lightsticks and calling out for their biases. You however, had been ot8 since you discovered Stray Kids. You could never choose anyone specific. You would never judge anyone for having one, of course, you had biases in other groups. You just appreciated everything about each one, and their duality. They were all so talented, kind, and also funny in their own ways, you were happy to receive any photocard and freebie at this concert. Being ot8, you could enjoy every vlog and 2 kids room. No matter where the members were on stage, you could enjoy whoever was close to you. Which, unbeknownst to you, would fill up your storage 8 times as quick than if you just had one bias or a bias line. You also spent 8 times as much money on merch. You have a Skzoo bias, of course, but you wanted to fully represent your love for each member, so you bought each Skzoo when they dropped and tried collecting OT8 photocard sets. Your wallet, if it was a person, would’ve probably killed you by now. Sorry wallet.

Fans started doing a fanchant, so you chanted along, swinging your lightstick to each member’s name. The chant eventually stopped and you heard a chrechendo of screams coming from the crowd. Being a kpop fan, and a music fan in general, that meant that the artist was coming on stage. The noise in your ear was almost unbearable. You didn’t want to miss a single thing from this concert, even if that meant your throat hurt in the morning, your eyes burned, and your ears were most likely permanently damaged from the noise. You joined in on the fan shouting, waiting to see each member on the big screen. Screams varied for each member, but you screamed just as loud for each of them. You had seen countless videos and fancams of the Dominate Concert to prepare you for this moment, but it truly wasn’t enough. Adrenaline was rushing through your body, preventing you from feeling the pain of standing in your boots for 3 hours. The members were just as pumped as you were. Maybe because it was LA, and people in LA were always going to be more energetic, but they were patting each other on the back, shaking each other's shoulders, and jumping all around. Much more energy than any of the TikToks you had seen before.

Stray Kids ran throughout the stage as they sang the first song, Mountains, to the crowd. Singing along, you wanted to enjoy the moment you had right now. You’d film the members later when they came closer to you. Once the boys started to disperse throughout the stage, your stomach dropped. You had been having such a good time, the neon-lit arena and the swaying crowd filled with reds and blacks giving you a euphoric, out-of-body experience. Hyunjin, who had been scanning the crowd, searching for fans with wild energy, had landed his eyes on you. He gave you a silent nod and a wink before turning away. You almost passed out, but realized one simple thing. The reds you had seen in the crowd, one of them was your string, disappearing about 3 feet in front of Hyunjin, his end of the string disappearing about 3 feet in front of you. You had tuned out your red string so you could focus on the concert, not realizing it would become the focus of the concert. He quickly turned his head back to look at you again. Shit. He knows too. He stared at his string, at yours, and back at you. Shit. Shit. This cannot be happening. You are not soulmates with Hyunjin, you cannot be. Your breathing was in short, small bursts, leaving you dizzier than you already were. Lasers flashed over your face as they scanned throughout the crowd, temporarily blinding you from the sight in front of you. Your once electric energy, along with him standing right in front of you, had quickly diminished. Forget about the language barrier you were worried about with staff, how would you manage the difference in fame, in money, in attractiveness? He was attractive, one of the more conventionally attractive members, and you were basic. You were pretty, sure, but standing next to Hyunjin, what would his members think? Or his family? The fans? You’d be torn to shreds online if he revealed you.

Skipping away like he didn’t see anything, but a smile clear on his face, he ran over towards Bangchan, who was a little bit further away. Hyunjin tapped on his shoulder and leaned into his ear, whispering something to the leader. God. Now Chan probably knows. The amount of fancams this moment will have will be astronomical, you wonder how many people will try to lip read his words. Bangchan quickly whipped his head over to you, but looking back at the crowd in front of him did not seem suspicious. Word quickly spread around the members, you could tell. They were all smiling wildly. When they weren’t doing choreography, they had all come over one by one sneakily to take a not-so-obvious look at you, pretending to interact with fans and sing their designated parts.

You had basically burned up into ashes at that point, with the amount of blush and embarrassment present on your face. Though you didn’t stop screaming for them, shaking your lightstick along with the fans beside you. Why would you make it any more obvious what they were doing? If fans knew they had all been looking at you, you’d be dead. Dead, dead. Like, sending those trucks with screens on them to your house and funeral bouquets that they do to protest groups, idols, or companies. But, one strange thing had been happening each time that a different member had approached your section. Your red string had no longer been following Hyunjin around on stage, like you had assumed. It was then following whatever member was in front of you. Changbin had been next to travel over, and his string and yours were close and following each other. Then I.N, Seungmin, Felix, Han, Bangchan, and then Lee Know. Each respective member, you had seen a red string that connected theirs to yours. Now you were actually freaking out. Was your string broken, or were you?

Once intermission started, you booked it out of your seat and into the bathroom to hide. Hide from the members or staff, but mostly from embarrassment. There had been a short line, but once you made it into a stall, you had stayed in there for as long as people would let you before knocking on the door. Splashing your hands with the cold water and throwing some onto your waterproof makeup, you managed to remove the red hue from your face and look presentable again. Stepping outside, the line had died down and you believed to be in the clear. Until a tap came from behind you.

“Excuse me?”

Turning around, you noticed a person dressed in all black with slacks and a button-up. “Yes?”

“I’m with JYP, they requested that you come with me,” he said in English with an accent that was barely noticeable.

You froze. That was probably the last thing you wanted to do. “I.. no,” you spat out, ruder than you wanted to.

“No?” He clarified, his eyebrows raising in surprise at your response.

“…Find me later. Or.. never’s fine too,” you said, holding your clear bag like it was the only thing keeping you from being buried 6 feet under. You immediately walked away, stiffer than you had ever been. He called for you, but you didn’t respond. Your knees were locked, your arms were tied in place, and your breathing was erratic. Any attempt to remove the red on your face had failed, it was all coming back. You couldn’t imagine how you looked to everyone else, like a sunburnt robot. God, you had never been more embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop enunciating that to yourself.

Once you got back to your seat, the girl who sat next to you noticed your ice-like behavior.

“Are you okay?” She asked, mustard-covered soft pretzel in hand that she probably got from a stand outside.

You didn’t respond, but you slowly nodded your head up and down. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the stage. Looking at said stage, you took a deep breath in and took off the member badges on your strap, placing them deep into your bag.

The concert went by quickly. The members, no matter how desperate they were to keep looking at you, almost entirely ignored that section to allow you some boundaries. They had heard from the staff that you didn’t want to meet them, so they wanted to make you feel comfortable. When they did come over to see fans next to you, they tried their best to avoid eye contact as much as possible. But the few times you both had accidentally, your face had become just as red. Why can’t you stop being like this? You were being weird in front of your soulmate.. or.. soulmates. Well, that's weird to say. But what else? You have confirmed to yourself that you had 8 soulmates. All 8 of them? Mega famous, mega rich kpop idols. Girls had pined over them for years, but you. You were their soulmate. The pit in your stomach had never gone away, even during your favorite songs and choreos. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, your first encounter with Hyunjin, them all coming over to you, and what the future would be like. The probability of this working out was low. How were you supposed to survive being the only woman in a relationship with 8 men who were already best friends? You hadn’t heard anything about people having that many soulmates. You had heard stories on the news about people having 2 soulmates, and one very rare case about someone having 3. But 8 men, and they all knew each other already? You could not wait to be the talk of the town. A joke. The next news article on dispatch and the hottest gossip on those “latest K-pop updates” videos with fancams of WonYoung in the background.

Once the members had said their goodbyes, giving you one last look before stepping off stage, the stage lights dimmed and the main lights came on, you took a sigh in and out. The concert you had once been so excited for, one that you knew you were going to get post-concert depression with, had ended, and you weren’t even feeling the emotions you thought you would feel. But now, you were shaking in what you couldn’t tell was fear of the future, or fear of what you had just experienced. Following the crowd outside the stadium, you were approached by a different staff member. It was a woman this time, but dressed in the same all-black outfit. Stopping you in your tracks to make sure your attention was on her, she reached for her pocket and pulled out a card. A business card.

“What was your name?” She asked.

“I… um… y/n y/l/n.”

Handing it to you, not saying anything, she nodded and turned away, back towards the stadium. Not looking at the card in fear someone might take it, though something inside of you wanted to rip it up anyway, you swiftly put it in your pocket. You did not want any other fans to notice the interaction that had occurred between you too, but it was dark enough and people were very tired from dancing and screaming all night to really notice. You lazily walked back to your hotel nearby, hyper aware of what you had on you like it was contraband. You kept the bag you had in front of you, just in case someone might pickpocket you, if that’s something that Stays would even do. Not before long, you had to take your boots off and walk back to your room barefoot, the pressure of what had happened tonight weighing you down, making your eyes droopy. You basically flopped right into bed when you unlocked the door with your keycard, throwing the belongings in your hands onto the floor as you snuggled under the blankets.

The sun had shown harshly through the windows facing east, shining directly onto your face. The curtains you had forgotten to close when you left the room for the concert were bunched together on one side. Getting up to clean up from last night, washing your makeup off and changing into presentable clothes after taking a shower, you had just over an hour to think about the night before. You wished the only thing you would think about was the concert itself. Seeing the members, singing the songs, and getting freebies, is normal concert behavior. But what actually happened that night was the only thing you’d remember that concert by. You hadn’t looked at your bag since you’d awoken, though, knowing you’d just get another pit in your stomach, larger than if you just thought about it.

In your travel bag, you packed some chia seed pudding inside a lunchbox and placed it in the fridge when you first arrived. Remembering this, you grabbed the pudding along with a small 13 dollar sparkling wine that was in there as well. You deserved it anyway. You still had a day or two in LA before you had to drive home, and you wanted to explore the city a little bit more. Taking a small sip of the drink and absolutely devouring your pudding because of your lack of food from the night before, you knew you wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of your trip unless you settled the problem you had. You were sure Stray Kids wouldn’t feel this insane about the situation, but you didn’t want to leave wondering what would’ve happened if you called.

Grabbing your concert bag from the night before, digging through the freebies you got and rifling through your hygiene care items, you found the card crumbled at the bottom. Unfolding it, some of the phone numbers were gone, being crumpled and destroyed as the paper fell off the cardstock. Shit! How could you have been so stupid? There was one number missing, but now you had to call 10 numbers just to make sure you had the right one. What tired you had done the night before, awake and slightly sober you had to deal with. You left all of your stuff on the table you were sitting at in your hotel room, and you went out onto the balcony to decompress and breathe in the fresh air. LA had a beautiful landscape, something you had only seen in photos before. It was not like New York, it had its own style. It was a very pop-culture and creatively filled urban grit metropolitan city. You chuckled to yourself at all the descriptive words you used to describe this city that was probably like any other. But you couldn’t say that. You knew LA was special, it was the city where you met your soulmate. A place you’d mark on a map and in your heart forever.

Finally picking up your cell phone to sit on the desk chair inside, you dialed the number on the card, typing a 0 where the missing number was. Nobody picked up. You groaned loudly, marking a cross on the first line of the notepad you had nearby to mark off what numbers you had called first. What if that was the number you needed but they missed a call? You decided to keep going through each number and hoped they’d call back or you’d call back later. You dialed the number with a 1. No answer. How many people weren’t going to pick up their phone? It made your search a lot harder. You dialed the number with a 2. This time, there was an answer.

“Hello?” The lady on the other end asked. She had a broad accent from somewhere you couldn’t place, but it was probably somewhere south.

“Hello.. I’m y/n y/l/n,” you responded.

“That’s great for you. Are ya tryna sell me somethin’? If so, ‘m not interested. Bye.” And just like that, she hung up. Great.

One things for sure, that definitely wasn’t Stray Kids or their manager. You decided to keep going down the list. Lots of people didn’t answer their phones nowadays, so that made the process a lot faster. Once you were done going through the list, if none of them was someone who worked for JYP, you’d go back down again, calling the numbers who didn’t pick up. Every time you typed in the full number, you hesitated pressing the call button. You had never been so scared of making a phone call before, even though you knew you had anxiety when it came to interactions over the telephone. You knew the call, if successful, would probably change your life. In so many ways. Thinking a little selfishly, you could finally get a stable job but not have to worry about when your next paycheck was going to be. You had spent so long saving up for these tickets, but you didn’t have to save up anymore. You had suddenly become hopeful for the future. Finally, after calling 5 numbers, you dialed one last time before someone on the other side picked up.

“Yeoboseyo?” A man had asked.

“Hi! I’m.. um.. y/n y/l/n,” you said, a little more nervous now that you knew it was the right person.

“One second,” he stated in a Korean accent, putting you on hold. The man had clearly left his seat. You could hear him get up and someone else sit in his chair.

“Hello, y/n y/l/n. I work with the entertainment company JYP. We understand that your soulmate string has connected with members of one of our boy groups and they wish to meet up with you. To ensure safety, we will provide the details in a text message and that you will delete the messages after. An NDA will be signed once you arrive. Thank you for your cooperation,” the man said. He had a deeper voice but a clearer English accent. He hung up after.

You dropped the phone onto the bed next to you. This was real. This was happening. All because of a stupid soulmate thing and your decision to ‘live life’ and go to a concert you could barely afford, your soulmate strings connected and you found your soulmate.

Almost immediately, you received a message from the same number with more information.

“To y/n y/l/n, we wish to respect the members’ privacy and safety as well as your own. To keep this from going public with the intent to hurt or damage the members’ or their public image, we will arrive at your hotel at 9:00 AM in a black 2021 Honda CRV with the license plate number 06BRJ72 on both the front and the back of the vehicle. It will have tinted windows and be ready at the back entrance. The members will be waiting at the location drop off, thank you.”

This was serious. You knew K-pop companies did their best to keep scandals and dating rumors at bay, but you didn’t know how serious it actually was now that you were directly involved with a group. You had a couple hours to get ready. You had already showered and your curls were still in place from last night, so you only needed to apply makeup and probably change your outfit. You had planned to wear this outfit with the intent of nobody seeing you or caring about what you looked like. You didn’t really have any other clothes, so you walked down to the lobby where some clothing shops were nearby. You didn’t want to waste loads of time picking out clothes you might not like, so you chose items that you knew would look good on you before trying them on. You purposefully picked items in colors that complemented your eyes and evened out your skin tone, while also giving you a little more confidence than what you had worn before. You decided on a look you had never really experimented with before, a little modern chic. The style was more expensive than you could normally spend up to, but you wanted to splurge a little bit more on this occasion. You bought some new earrings that you knew would turn green if you wore them too long (but you’d only be wearing them once, honestly) and a dainty necklace that went with the neckline of your shirt. The bag you had decided to bring matched the outfit, and your boots from the concert matched as well anyways. You actually had to look up the style meant, so maybe when you had some more money, you could start dressing like that. It fit your body type so well, and it made you feel so rich and lavish.

Arriving back at your hotel room, you took the time to look as pretty as possible, while also looking like you weren’t trying too hard. You didn’t know about the occasion, so you were unsure if you should have bought a dress or worn something more casual. You decided not to overthink it too hard, they were your soulmates afterall. If they didn't like you in an outfit you felt confident in, they didn’t deserve you at all. That’s what you thought if you knew they weren’t your favorite idols. You were too easy, you’d wear a trash bag every day if they asked you to. But you try to have a little more dignity than that. You were an adult, too. You had a job, you had an apartment, you had a cat, why would you not also be a respectable person in society, even if your favorite boy group was suddenly revealed to be your soulmate?

The clock had turned 9 before you even realized it. You spent so long thinking about where the afternoon would go, deciding not to listen to stray kids while you got ready, but music that made you confident instead. You headed down to where you presumed the back entrance was and entered a vehicle of the same description. There was a masked man in the front seat, who was silent while he drove you there, only giving you a nod when you came in and a nod when you arrived at your destination. It was The Little Door, a small, high-end restaurant that you knew allowed for private dining. You had never been expensive enough to eat there, but you passed by it enough on your walk to work that you could do a little more research on it. Walking inside, you could see it was dimly lit and very intimate, perfect for private meetings. It was almost like an enchanted garden oasis, with lush greenery, cascading lights, dim cozy nooks, and antique chandeliers. You knew the room that the members had rented out was probably fancier and more intimate than this, which made you a little nervous for your arrival. Being escorted into a separate room by another employee of JYP, they were huddled on one end of a long table, with the same decorations from the public area in this private lounge as well. They all stood up immediately, slightly bumping into each other as they stood there.

“Hi! Please, sit wherever you want. We’re glad you arrived. We were nervous you’d bail,” Bangchan had said, gesturing to any spot.

“I almost did, honestly,” you admitted, placing your bag on the seat back and sitting down in a seat equidistant from each member. “I want to apologize for running away so suddenly when I was asked to meet you guys during the concert.”

The members all shook their heads in disagreement.

“You don’t have to apologize. We understand your worry. When we found out we were all soulmates, it was a hard adjustment. Even for JYP as a company,” Bangchan said.

“Wait, you’re all soulmates, too?”

They nodded.

“But if I’m soulmates with all of you and all of you, each other, why were there not 8 strings?”

“Because it points to whoever is closest to you. Hyunjin was right in front of you, so you pointed to him. I’m closest to you right now, so yours is pointing to me. It makes it impossible to know how many soulmates you have. Which is kind of the whole point of the mystery,” Felix said, pursing his lips together into a tight line. “We were quite nervous to see you in the audience. We saw our red string light up again when you most likely arrived at the stadium.”

“The string disappears after you meet your soulmate,” Hyunjin elaborated. “Once you meet yours, it goes away. You know you have another one when the string shows back up. When I first joined JYP and met Changbin, and later Han, Bangchan, and the rest of Stray Kids, each lighting up again as I met each member.”

“Wow.” You were still trying to process what you had heard. “I don’t really know what to say. How do you guys handle daily life with that many soulmates?”

“It’s easier than you think. We’re just like.. friends anyway, so it’s just a bonus we get to cuddle and kiss sometimes,” Han said, shrugging his shoulders. “We would’ve lived together anyway as a boy group, soulmates or not, it’s just something that most people can’t experience.”

“It actually brings us closer as a group, and it helps us stay as a group together longer. It solves a lot of fights knowing the universe not only put us in a group together, but also made us soulmates,” Seungmin said.

“And you guys won’t feel uncomfortable now that I’m added into the equation?”

“Added into the equation? You’ve been a part of the equation the whole time! We always knew that something was missing, a small piece of the equation, but here you are.” Changbin reassured, with a bright smile on his face.

You took a deep sigh of relief. “I swear I’ll bring a lot to the table.”

The members laughed.

“Do you.. want to keep me a secret?” You asked, after a short, comfortable silence.

“A secret? Why?” Lee Know asked.

“They made me sign an NDA when I got inside and I rode here in a black car. They texted me the information about the meetup and made me delete the message afterwards,” you admitted.

“No! That’s just for our safety as an idol. If we could, we would never keep it a secret. We wished we could tell everyone we as a group were soulmates. It’s just for our physical safety as human beings. We swear we love you to the moon and back. We always will,” Bangchan said.

“That’s relieving, but I’m sorry you have to keep your love for each other such a big secret. I guess it is pretty taboo, especially for idols,” you shrugged.

“It is, but we swear we will appreciate you every day as a human and as our girl,” I.N promised, making the members nod their heads in agreement.

“What are you doing after this? Maybe we can show you around backstage and our hotel rooms. We could hang out a little before our concert starts,” Lee Know asked.

You thought for a second before replying. “I was going to get some of the food from the breakfast buffet before exploring town a little bit. But obviously that could wait.”

“Don’t be silly, we’ll come with you,” Hyunjin insisted.

As you all rode back to your hotel, the members had to cover up their faces and ask to rent out the buffet. You didn’t realize how much privilege they had as idols to rent out rooms like that, but it made you realize it was for the safety of the idols. After grabbing a plate or two.. or three, you headed back to where the boys were seated.

They stared at the amount of food you had grabbed. Not in a judgmental way, but in shock that you could be hungry enough for that.

“…the breakfast buffet is my favorite part of a hotel,” you said, shyly.

“Of course, we know the breakfast here is good. We had it yesterday morning,” Han said, eating some lightly salted eggs.

“Wait. Are you staying in the same hotel as me? How did the string not show up?” You asked.

“Based on what you told us about your trip so far in the car and our activities throughout the day, I don’t think we were ever close enough for our strings to reveal themselves,” Changbin guessed.

“You checked in in the morning, we checked in the night before. We had already been across town practicing and filming vlogs, and you were on the other side of town exploring. Then when we came back to the hotel room to chill and get ready, you were out eating dinner. We then left for the stadium, you were getting ready in the room,” Seungmin said.

Wow. He had done all of that in his head. You chuckled at his knowledge and took a bite of some toast and jam, along with a couple of pieces of fruit, a comfortable silence filling the dining area.

Your mom always liked to tell you the story of when your first soulmark appeared.

You hadn’t been born with a soulmark, which wasn’t uncommon by any means. Not only were there plenty of soulmarks that weren’t visible, but soulmarks didn’t appear until both people were alive. This meant if you had a soulmate who was younger than you, you wouldn’t get the mark until they were born.

You’d been less than a year old and she’d been giving you a bubble bath when she noticed something on your waist. Google translate wasn’t readily available at that age, but she was able to recognize it as an asian script.

You’d find out later that it was Korean, but she didn’t know that at the time.

That story was always paired with the shock your mother experienced when you got two more soulmarks, nearly back to back, two years later. There was the timer on your left wrist, and the date and time of someone's birth on your right.

The final mark came the following year when one of your eyes switched colors.

At least, that was the last physical mark. The others had been harder to figure out, but, by your count, you had a total of 8 soulmates.

You knew it was a large number. Sure, polysoulmates were a thing, but they were largely uncommon. Looking back, you were just grateful that your aunt was part of a four-way bond. She was someone who understood and normalized it, which passed to your parents, too. 

Your parents always told you it was a blessing to have so much love in your future, though they warned you of some who might be mad at you for having so many.

“Don't let them get to you,” your father told you, “They're just jealous and don't understand the blessing you have.” 

Your blessing included the fact that you were able to semi-communicate with 3 of your soulmates. One of them through your dreams, one by writing on your skin, and the last by looking in the mirror. 

The first time you'd gone into the bathroom as a kid and saw a young boy staring back at you had been quite a fright. You'd been convinced you somehow turned into a boy, but when your mother assured you she didn't see anyone, you eventually concluded it must be your soulmate. 

The second of the three that you found out about was the soulmate you shared your skin with. You'd decided to doodle on your hands one day while playing with markers and eventually felt a tingling sensation as you watched someone else write back. The two of you mostly communicated with drawings and colors, once you realized you didn't share a native tongue, but as you grew older you communicated better, too.

It was through your dreams that you finally pushed to learn another language. You were in elementary school when you first met the other boy. Once again, you didn't share a language, but it was still fun playing with him. When you told your mom about it, she determined that you needed a language tutor to help you out.

“The universe is giving you a heads up, it's okay to take this into your own hands so you can speak with your soulmates plainly,” she told you. She'd always been a big proponent of letting the universe do its thing, sharing stories of how she and your father met through happenstance. Their mark was one where their skin changed color the first time they touched. 

“I wouldn't trade that moment for the world,” she told you with a fond smile on her face.

It wasn't uncommon for schools to have connections with language tutors. This was primarily to help those children who had soulmates that spoke a different language than them. You were lucky to find a tutor that not only was able to teach you Korean, but helped you learn sign language, too.

That had been your idea when trying to think of ways to communicate with your mirror soulmate. The two of you had slowly discovered that you couldn't see anything the other person was holding, only the person and whatever clothes were on their body. Since you couldn’t hear each other, either, the only option left was sign language.

The soulmate that took you the longest to figure out had been your pain soulmate. 

Your mom said that as a kid you'd sometimes cry out or clutch onto different body parts despite not having any visible injuries. Most of it had been brushed off as growing pains, or you simply being unable to articulate what had happened to get you hurt.

You honestly hadn't even considered it could be soulmate related until one day you woke up clutching your leg in pain. It felt like you'd just slid across asphalt on your bare legs, but you'd been lying in bed, so that surely wasn't the case. Your friends asked you about it at school when they noticed you being ginger with your leg.

“Can't some soulmates feel each others’ pain?” One of your friends asked. 

So… 8 soulmates it was: reflection, first words, dreams, shared skin, date of birth, timer, pain, and switched eyes.

As you grew up, so did they. There were times when you'd been tempted to try and figure out exactly who they were, but you ultimately didn't want to. You and your boys had agreed early on that you wouldn't share any details that could let you find each other sooner.

“It's supposed to be fate, right? I don't wanna force this to happen. I want to meet when we're supposed to,” you'd explained to Changbin in a dream one night. 

He nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He smiled. “I'm sure fate will bring us together at the best time.”

Though, you'd all agreed that if you didn't meet before age 30, perhaps you could give fate a nudge.

You'd also been open and honest with them about having multiple soulmates. Turns out, all three of the boys you could talk with did, too. It made you feel better that they understood and weren't upset with you for it.

Plus, if you were lucky… maybe you were all connected. 

When you were in high school, though, something shifted. Chris, Changbin, and Hyunjin all admitted to having found some of their other soulmates. 

It was too close together to be a coincidence, but you didn't ask for more details, and they didn't offer them. 

It was what you agreed on. 

You knew Chris had talked about going abroad to try pursuing music, and he mentioned having to learn another language, too. 

You were happy for them all, you truly were, but as a teen it niggled at your brain.

Why did they get to meet their other soulmates first? Why did you have to wait? 

There were times when it ate at your self esteem. You weren't good enough yet. You didn't deserve them. All these thoughts swirled around in your head.

Hyunjin didn't write as much. You and Changbin rarely got to share dreams as it was but now it seemed even more sporadic. 

And you hadn't seen Chris in months. 

This was what fate wanted, clearly. 

Hyunjin suddenly asking you not to write in visible places anymore was what broke you.

“Are you trying to hide me from your other soulmates?” You wrote back furiously. 

“What? No! I promise,” he scribbled back.

“Then if you don't want to talk to me anymore you can just say so.”

“Y/N, I always want to talk to you.”

Before you could respond you felt the familiar tingle of more writing being added.

“I'm sorry I've been so busy. You told me you didn't want too many details but )): it's a big opportunity. I don't want to hide you, but I also need to be discreet now.”

You sighed. He was right, even though you'd both agreed upon it, it still hurt a little. 

“Okay, I'm sorry too. I miss you.”

“Miss you too )): I promise to write more, okay? You're my soulmate, too.”

And that had been the tipping point. Next time you saw Chris and Changbin respectively, you talked about it with them, too. They also apologized and swore they didn't mean to make you feel excluded.

“I'm sure there's a reason we haven't met yet,” Changbin said as the two of you sat in a park in your dreams. His hand was holding yours, thumb brushing over your skin soothingly. “I… I wish I knew why, but it's not either of our faults, ok? We're supposed to meet, so we will.”

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “I guess I'm just jealous. You and two of my other soulmates have now met some of your other soulmates and I'm just… here.”

You could practically feel Changbin thinking, but he didn't voice it. You didn't know the names of his other soulmates, and he didn't know yours. 

At this rate you didn't want to know. Not if they might all be together without you. 

Things got better after that. You focused on finishing high school, doing martial arts, and applying to colleges. Sometimes you felt bad that you did such a physical sport, considering your soulmate bond, but he definitely did a sport, too, if the pain was anything to go by.

You hoped it was a sport and not something worse. It had to be a sport.

When applying for colleges, a part of you had considered looking at Korea. You were fluent in the language, and it could bring you closer to your soulmates. But after much consideration and multiple applications, you ended up getting accepted into UCLA in their film program. 

Your parents were so proud, and even though you would be moving away from home, they were excited for the new adventure you'd be going on.

Your soulmates were also proud. They didn't know the specific school, but they knew how hard you'd worked to get into it.

As you continued with school, your focus ended up shifting into acting - specifically stunt acting. One of your professors found out you did martial arts and asked you if you'd ever thought about stunt work. It ended up being right up your alley, and you quickly fell in love with the career. It gave you everything you wanted. You loved film making, acting, and doing creative projects with others. Plus you got to feel like a badass the whole time you did it. 

School kept you busy, but you and your boys still talked when you could. It was nice, honestly. You found friends and were following your passions, and you knew it would lead you to them one day.

Of course, what you didn’t expect was that you’d end up finding out about your soulmates through an innocent music recommendation from a friend.

“Have you heard of Stray Kids before?” Lance had asked as he slid into the seat beside you in the mess hall.

You shook your head as you finished chewing your bite of your lunch. “No, but I have a feeling I’m about to.”

He laughed. “Come on, they’re this up and coming K-Pop group. Just check this out.” He passes you an airpod, which you dutifully slip into your ear as he opens up Spotify.

The song starts off slow, talking about being at rock bottom and walking alone through a dark tunnel. You find yourself bobbing your head along with it as it picks up. The group had great vocals.

As the chorus hits and they shift into English, “I’m on a Hellevator,” singing in your ears, Lance leans forward to interrupt your field of view. He has a big grin on his face as he nods excitedly.

“They’re good right? This is their recent compilation album, so it has some of their best hits on it.” He looks excited.

You laugh. “Alright, alright, I promise I’ll check them out more when I get home. Ya know, after I study for finals?”

Lance waves at hand at you dismissively. “Half of that is portfolio stuff, and you've already been getting onto sets. You’re fine. You don’t need to study.”

You stood up, pointing at him as you scooped up your trash from lunch. “I didn’t go to this school for nearly 4 years to flunk out right before the finish line, alright? So I’m gonna study.”

“Just make sure you check them out, too, okay?” He called behind you as you walked away.

You had one more class that day, and then an evening shoot that only lasted a couple hours. But with LA traffic, you still didn't make it home til late that night, the thought of Stray Kids far from your mind as you hurriedly showered and plopped down in your bed to study before crashing for the night.

You didn't have classes the next day, and as you were making your breakfast you found yourself humming Hellevator. You shrugged, typing in the band name on YouTube and deciding to see what you could find.

You were prepared to see some cute boys doing fun dances, what you weren't prepared for was recognizing two of the boys. 

You nearly choked on your cereal as you tried to calm yourself. You looked at the screen again and even decided to google the band, just to be sure.

Chris and Changbin were, indeed, a part of Stray Kids. One of the members was also named Hyunjin, which you knew, at this point, couldn't be a coincidence.

While you and the boys had agreed to not reveal anything directly to each other, this certainly was fate sliding the cards your way. Grabbing one of your skin safe markers, you hurriedly wrote a message to Hyunjin before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Are you in Stray Kids?” 

You knew it was fairly late in Korea. Since you'd realized a few of your soulmates were from there, you'd always been conscious of the time difference. Despite the time, you felt a tingling sensation as you got a reply.

“o_o yes. How did you find out?”

You snorted. “I'd say Fate but his actual name is Lance.”

You wrote more before he could reply. “He recommended Hellevator to me and then I looked up videos.”

“But wait, you haven't seen my face..??”

You hesitated for a moment before replying. “Chris and Changbin are also my soulmates. I've seen them before.” 

“!!!!”

You laughed at Hyunjin's excited response. He was quickly writing something else.

“Can I tell Chris and Bin?”

You were gonna tell them anyway, and you knew it'd be a while before you and Changbin crossed paths (since you'd just woken up). Chris was also hard to catch since it was just happenstance when you'd both be at a mirror at the same time.

“Sure :)” you wrote back before you could overthink it. 

He didn't reply again for a bit. You honestly assumed Chris and Changbin were asleep. You continued with your breakfast, the paused YouTube video staring you down.

Were the rest of them your soulmates, too? The numbers certainly added up.

Should you google it?? You could figure out who's birthday was on your wrist probably-

“Chan says go to the mirror?” Hyunjin wrote, interrupting your train of thought. You snorted at his confusion and just sent back a smiley face before heading to your bathroom.

The second you stepped into the sight of the mirror, Chris's gaze was on you. His hands moved rapidly as he signed to you.

“You know about Stray Kids?”

You nodded. “A friend recommended a song to me and I looked you all up. If that's not fate I'm not sure what is.”

He grinned. “So Changbin and Hyunjin too?”

You nodded again, matching his smile. “I recognized you, obviously, and then Changbin. Bin and I share dreams. Hyunjin and I share skin - we can write to each other. It was an educated guess because of you two and him having the right name.”

“Do you think…” he suddenly stopped, furrowing his eyebrows. “How many other soulmates do you have?”

“I have 8 total, so 5 I don't have names for.”

His eyes widened. “Is it…”

You knew what he was thinking. You shrugged. “I mean, honestly, probably, but I just figured this out so I haven't exactly thought about it much.” You glanced at your wrist, frowning slightly. “My timer for one of them still says like 2.5 years, so.”

Chris frowned too. “It just feels like you're so close.”

“You guys are literally across the Pacific.” You pointed out with a smirk. 

He scoffed. “Yeah, but… you know us now.”

You shrugged. “I mean, I still want to find you guys organically, as much as I can. I know, I want to meet you guys, too, but if it's supposed to be a few years from now…”

You saw him sigh. “I know. It's not like we aren't busy, too, but…”

“It still sucks,” you finished. “But we'll find each other when it's right.”

He gave you a small smile. “Yeah, you're right. I'm glad you know, though.” His grin grew. “Now I can tell you more about the boys and what we do next time.”

After talking with Chris before he had to go to bed for the night, you returned to your breakfast with a sigh.

You were graduating this year, and you already had some films you'd been helping on with more lined up in the future. There was so much you were excited for but glancing at your timer, the 2.5 years felt further away than ever.

.✦ ݁˖ SFW

max is a creature of habit. he loves waking you up with a kiss and a perfectly brewed cup of tea, but he’ll use the time to subtly brag about a goal he’s already achieved before you’ve even opened your eyes. it’s his way of seeking your validation

he loves that he doesn’t have to pretend with you. around everyone else he’s the chaotic, theatrical max hatter, but with you he lets the softer edges show. he’ll pull you into quiet corners just to steal a moment where it’s only the two of you. then, just as quickly, he’ll flip back to teasing, spinning you around and declaring to no one in particular that his princess is the only person who can keep up with him

he has a keen eye for fashion.he loves helping you pick out your outfits, not because he wants to control you, but because he views you as an extension of his own prestige. he loves it when you look stunning, but he loves it even more when he knows you're wearing something he picked for you

he thrives on making you laugh, on seeing that smile he claims is better than any magic in wonderland.and when the day winds down, he’s the one who pulls you close,fingers tangled with yours, quietly admitting he’s never been this happy pretending to be normal with anyone else

when he’s truly stubborn,he won’t fight with you—he’ll just give you that overly pleasant ‘hatter act’.it’s a psychological game. he waits for you to crack the moment you show genuine distress, his kind heart wins out and he’ll fold instantly, pulling you into a tight embrace

when he’s jealous he becomes incredibly possessive in a subtle way. he’ll slide his arm around your waist or start talking about a private joke only the two of you share, effectively marking his territory without ever raising his voice

max loves to play with your anticipation. he’ll lean in slow, his lips just a fraction of an inch from yours, holding the position until you're practically vibrating with need. just as you close your eyes to finally seal the gap, he’ll whisper a cheeky joke or a playful comment in your ear and pull away with a grin, loving the way you pout.

he has a habit of "stealing" things from you,just to get your attention. he won't hide them far, but he'll make you "earn" them back through a series of ridiculous challenges or by giving him a specific number of kisses

he is subconsciously driven by your praise. if you tell him how much you love it when he does a certain chore or how "amazing" he is at something, he will practically obsess over doing it even better next time. he doesn't just want to be the best in wonderland; he wants to be the absolute best in your eyes

while he’s generally playful and lighthearted,max has a protective side that surfaces the moment he feels you're being slighted. he doesn't necessarily get aggressive, but he becomes incredibly poised and sharp-tongued, using his charm and wit to shut down anyone who doesn't treat you with the respect you deserve

.✦ ݁˖. NSFW

because he spends his whole life trying to prove himself, hearing you tell him how good he is—specifically how well he's fucking you—drives him absolutely wild. a whispered "you're so good to me— so good max" will make him lose all his composure

in the bedroom, his ambition manifests as a need to dominate the experience. he loves being the one to dictate the pace, guiding your body exactly where he wants it. he enjoys the feeling of you completely unraveling under his touch, knowing he's the only one capable of making you feel that way

he’s fascinated by your reactions.he loves to push you to the edge of an orgasm and then stop abruptly, teasing you until you're begging him to finish. he treats your pleasure like a challenge, wanting to see exactly how much you can take before you break

he has a habit of leaving marks—hickeys on your neck or bite marks on your shoulder—specifically in places that are hidden by clothes. it’s his secret way of reminding you and himself that you belong to him, even when you're out in the world acting the part of the perfect couple

.✦ ݁˖ + he’d also say / do things like :

you catch the way max’s eyes light up the second you walk into the room, that signature grin spreading across his face like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. “ah, there she is… my princess has finally arrived.” he says it loud enough for everyone to hear, making a dramatic show of clearing a path with exaggerated bows and sweeping gestures. “everyone, please make way. the princess requires room to walk.”

he loves teasing you when you’re in a mood, leaning in close with that playful lilt in his voice. “oh no, the princess is unhappy? whatever shall i do?” it’s never mean-spirited—he’s already watching your reaction, ready to pivot into something softer if he senses even a hint of real annoyance. when he realizes he’s pushed it too far, he gets adorably awkward about it, suddenly offering you his favorite hat or pulling you into a clumsy hug while mumbling, “okay, okay, i’m sorry, princess… here, you can wear the hat. it looks better on you anyway.”

the more time you spend together, the bolder his playfulness gets.he’ll tug you into his lap without warning, arms looping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “i cannot believe i have to deal with you” he’ll groan dramatically, but there’s nothing but affection in the way his fingers trace lazy circles on your hip. other times he switches to pure compliments, whispering against your ear how stunning you look today or how your laugh is his favorite sound in all of wonderland

max acts like the most confident guy in the room—unpredictable, loud, always pulling some new trick out of his sleeve or hat —but you’re the one who sees how much he actually cares. he’ll pretend he doesn’t notice when you catch him being sweet “what? i just happened to be going this way,” he’ll claim with a shrug, but the tips of his ears turn pink every single time

⊹ ࣪ ˖⏱ ୭˚. ᵎ MASTERLIST

the girl wasn't the jealous type, and she didn't have anything against the mystery girl. but she did feel a sharp pain in her heart, every time she saw jameson leaving. because she knew that he was going to her. to meet avery.

every.

single.

time.

her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and the brown-haired boy walked in. he immediately went to lay down beside the girl, and snuggled into her - his hand around her waist, pulling her closer, and his head in the crook of her neck.

"what's up?" y/n's hand found jameson's hair, and she started to run her fingers through it.

"alisa had other plans for heiress, so we had to cancel our plans, and so the investigation will continue tomorrow."

a small 'hmm" was the only thing that the girl could reply with.

jameson had nicknames for everyone. but still, the sinking feeling in her stomach from hearing about avery couldn't leave her. not to mention how stupid she started to feel, that now when he's bored, he will waste some time with her because heiress has other plans.

she felt a light kiss be placed on ber neck, "don't think that."

"what?"

y/n y/l/n hated the fact that jameson hawthorne could understand what she was thinking and feeling. he was a game player - puzzles and riddles, to solve, were easy for him. and like a game, the girl, was easy to read for him, too.

he trailed soft kisses up her neck, towards her jaw, "you know what," he pulled back, as he gazed into her eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "you're my girl. my favorite girl. so, please, stop the thoughts infecting your gorgeous brain."

a small smile appeared on her face, as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to her lips, "how about this," he got up and grabbed y/n's hands, as he pulled her up, "if you guess the number i'm thinking, we'll do whatever you want... if you don't," he smirked, "i'll choose."

"hey," y/n stated with a smile, as she saw jameson grab a marker and a piece of paper, "i'm not good at this, like, at all."

"well, good for me," he caught her still watching him, "hey, no, cheating," jameson put a hand over her eyes. the girl rolled her eyes and smacked his hand away.

when jameson was done writing the number down, he hid it behind him and looked at y/n with a big smile, "i'll make it easier for you, love. the number is between 1 and 10," he glanced at her lips and then back to her eyes, "now the only question is, what is the number?"'

y/n y/l/n already knew she would lose. she hadn't grown up as the hawthorne brothers had. her grandfather didn't make her do puzzles and riddles or solve mysteries. but she took the time to think. and it was indeed hard when beautiful green eyes were gazing at her.

"seven."

"sorry, to be the one to say this," and the girl already knew, "but you have lost," jameson showed her the paper, "the right answer was three," his pretty big smile was annoying, "i guess the winner, once again, is me."

"yeah, yeah... so riddle boy, what will we be doing?"

a wicked smirk replaced the victory smile on the boy's face, "strip bowling."

"are you doing this on purpose!?" y/n frustratedly sighed as she saw the bowling ball once again land in the gutter.

since they had started playing, jameson has been poking her or pressing kisses on her neck and even whispering things in her ear, making her lose.

the boy smiled at the girl, who looked at him, "what me? and cheating? of course not, don't be funny, love," he walked towards her and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, "but you should take this off now."

"idiot," y/n murmured, as she took of her top that revealed her black bra.

the hawthorne boy pressed a kiss to her shoulder, "it's your turn," the girl said.

jameson just hummed as he continued to lay soft kisses on her skin, his hand pulling her closer by the waist, "later," he trailed his kisses towards her ear.

"but james-"

"god, woman," he sarcastically sighed, which made y/n let out a small giggle. he pulled back with a smile, looking in her eyes, "just let me love my girl."

"yeah, yeah," y/n stated and wrapped her arms around his neck, as she pulled him into a kiss.

and like that, the world disappeared. just them. no one else.

she sighed when she felt him pull her closer, her chest to his bare one. while her hand lightly tugged at his hair, his soft lips moved to her jaw, "i love you," he said in between the kisses, "never forget that."

missing his taste she turned her head and pulled him back into the kiss. his hands slowly started to go down from her waist to the back of her thighs, so he could lift her, but before he could do that, the door shot open.

"JAMESON DID YOU EAT THE LAST BLUEB- oh," xander stopped when he saw the scene in front of him.

y/n smiled, when she heard jameson groan, as he pulled back from the kiss, moving his hands away from her legs.

"you horny bastards should find a room... a private one."

"Alexander-"

"just saying," and with that the youngest hawthorne brother left the room, closing the room.

"so," the girl smiled, as she grabbed a bowling ball and handed it to her boyfriend, "it's your turn."

jameson groaned even louder, as he took the ball.

➜ lando norris

the second he hears your voice, he forgets he's in the car.

"wait, what?"

you giggle, talking into the headset again. "radio check, lando."

lando smiles, focus back on the track. "bit tacky but we can fix it during quali. also hi, love."

he giggles for the rest of the practice and refuses to listen to his engineers, asking to put you back on (they don't).

➜ oscar piastri

oscar takes a second. you hear him inhale quietly before answering. "radio check loud and clear. hi."

he's much calmer, full attention to the car and the track, but his ears are burning under his helmet and his face hurts from smiling so hard.

➜ george russell

george is locked in, annotating in his head everything he sees and feels from the car for his engineer until his radio goes off first.

"okay, and radio check please."

he blinks, doubting if he heard right or not. "that's... not my engineer."

he stays quiet for a second, going through a curve, then he speaks again with a little laugh, "radio is good. you're distracting me."

he sounds mean, but he was smiling under his helmet.

➜ kimi antonelli

with kimi there is immediate chaos.

"hold on a second... ITS YOU!"

his engineer takes the lead back and tries to get the boy to focus again. "kimi, radio check."

"yeah, yeah — radio works. tell y/n i say hi!"

when he's done with practice he goes up to you and asks if you can do it again. this definitely boosts him.

➜ lewis hamilton

lewis goes soft and sweet as soon as he recognizes your voice through the radio.

"radio loud and clear," he pauses for a second and then: "good to hear your voice, sweetheart."

he absolutely loved the change.

➜ charles leclerc

charles laughs quietly, breathy. he's professional but still affectionate at the same time.

"radio check is good. you sound lovely."

he's smiling like an idiot by the way.

➜ carlos sainz

carlos's brain reboots for a quick second.

"radio check—yes—perfect."

then, unable to resist te urge, he says: "careful there, cariño. you're making this difficult."

his engineer doesn't let you say more, but carlos drives like he's trying to impress you specifically after that.

➜ max verstappen

max reacts the least with his nonchalant personality, which for some reason means the most.

"radio clear."

a pause.

"you're not supposed to be on my radio, love."

he tries to be professional, serious, but his tone was light and you could hear the smile in his voice.

☆ ⠀⠀⠀ ⑅ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀⠀⠀◌ ⠀⠀⠀ ꕤ

Take Lewis Hamilton as an example: born in Stevenage, a small town north of London, England. He spent part of his childhood with his mother, and it wasn’t until he was ten that he chose to live with his father to focus on racing. At five, with a remote-controlled car, he was already making a name for himself, and at six, with a small used kart, he kept chasing it.

Years later, after countless hardships and difficulties, a legend emerged. Seven-time world champion, three teams in Formula 1, he now stands among the most remembered and respected names in motorsport history, not only for his skill, but for what he represents.

And it isn’t just him: Senna, Prost, Schumacher, Vettel, and so many others who shaped the sport into what it is today are remembered as symbols of determination, greatness, and pride for their fans and their nations.

For years and years, that was all Kimi Antonelli ever talked about.

You were never close to him, even though you studied at the same school. In fact, the only thing you truly shared was a photo from a recital you both took part in at five years old — the one where you thought it was perfectly appropriate to kiss his cheek and cause a chorus of “awww” around you.

But proximity was never the point.

You didn’t have to be part of his inner circle to know that Kimi Antonelli was in love with motorsport. Anyone who cared to listen had heard him say he would become a legend one day — just like those drivers.

For that reason, during the second-to-last year of high school, you weren’t surprised at all when he told the entire class he was going to Formula 1 the following year.

Kimi had already climbed the other steps. He had already been champion in lower categories more than once. There had been tributes to him on ordinary school days — celebrations of his talent and the pride he brought to both the school and to Italy. But Formula 1… Formula 1 was different.

It was big.

A step closer to the dream he had chased for so long: becoming one of the best.

And at that age, he was already considered a rising promise in the racing world. The golden boy. The next prodigy. It wasn’t just Formula 1, that alone would have been enough, but for Kimi Antonelli?

Kimi Antonelli would begin his first Formula 1 season driving for the Mercedes AMG PETRONAS F1 Team, personally chosen to take the seat of none other than sir Lewis Hamilton himself, a fact that earned him his own Netflix documentary.

So many good things followed that, if the announcements hadn’t been officially published, you wouldn’t have believed them.

Oh — and you had the biggest crush on him.

Having a crush on Kimi Antonelli was hardly absurd. In fact, at school it was the most normal thing in the world. After all, he wasn’t just famous, well-managed, and surprisingly intelligent, he was also kind to everyone and very, very cute. And, perhaps, just perhaps, you had occasionally caught yourself daydreaming about rebellious wavy hair that only behaved under a cap and an easy smile that gave his face that boyish look.

And his hands.

In a completely appropriate way, of course.

But that had only become a thing during the final year, when one of your best friends shoved her phone in your face to show you the photoshoot he had done with George Russell. The focus was very specific: Kimi putting on his helmet, his hands fully on display. You had never noticed them before. Naturally, you were completely normal about it.

Totally normal. Completely normal. Nothing unusual whatsoever. Just a normal boy with long fingers and prominent veins and…

Yeah. Right. Sure.

Now school was over. All of that (cute boys, inappropriate hands, endless books about subjects you never quite mastered) had been left behind. A great relief, if anyone asked you — and yet, now that it was over, you missed it too. Years and years with the same classmates, hearing updates to the same stories, walking through the same hallways had quietly created a sense of attachment.

You hadn’t really wanted it to end.

And some people might have wondered whether that feeling could, at some level, be related to a certain prodigy driver who, by a twist of fate, had studied alongside you since early childhood, but… life is strange. And it does even stranger things, because after everything — after the whole year had passed and Kimi Antonelli had traveled the world and become a rookie with two podiums in his debut season, making history — he ended up spending Christmas in your living room.

Because your sister had done you a great favor: she had said yes to becoming an Antonelli.

It was there, on December twenty-fifth, two thousand and twenty-five, that you discovered your sister was engaged — not to Kimi Antonelli, thankfully, but to one of his older cousins.

You didn’t even know she was dating anyone! That’s what happens when your sister decides to move to another country and forgets to tell you about her dramatic new relationship.

Anyway, you were happy for her all the same. And it happened. So… somewhere between plates that were never empty, constant hugs, and elegant clothes, Kimi Antonelli had his first proper interaction with you.

You stood near the Christmas tree, finishing adjusting the bow on the head of one of your younger cousins, who refused to stay still for more than a second. She kept talking nonstop about how badly she wanted to open the presents, and you had to keep reminding her that it wasn’t time yet.

With an exaggerated pout, she ran off, leaving you behind with a fond laugh lingering on your lips.

Beside you, however, with steps far too deliberate to pass as casual, Kimi Antonelli approached.

“I didn’t know your sister was dating my cousin,” he said, taking a relaxed sip of his drink.

He was talking. To you. As if that made perfect sense. And, well… technically, it did. Aside from a couple of his cousins, you were the only person there who was actually his age.

You smoothed a hand down the skirt of your red dress. Blink. Blink. Blink. An attempt at normalcy. You had to make a double effort not to stare at the ring resting on his index finger like a complete weirdo.

“O-Oh! Yeah. Yes. Well,” you said, a little awkwardly, your gaze drifting toward the couple. They looked comfortable, happy. Your expression softened. “I didn’t know either. But I think they really like each other. From what I can tell.”

What a stupid answer. My God. You sounded like you had never learned how to speak. Kimi didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he was just too polite to comment on your painfully obvious lack of composure.

“Yeah. I can see that too,” he agreed, his eyes following yours in the same direction. It didn’t last long, though. His attention returned to you. “We studied together.”

Yes, Kimi. We did. I know that. I know that very well.

You nodded, because words suddenly felt unreliable.

“That’s cool. And now we’re family,” he said, sounding so casual about it that it bordered on absurd.

It wasn’t normal. It was the complete opposite of normal. You hadn’t thought about it that way before, but… thinking about it now, he was kind of right.

You were going to faint right there.

Except you didn’t. You did something far more human — far more reasonable and, honestly, surprising: you smiled like a perfectly normal person.

“That’s crazy, right? It’s nice,” you replied.

You were actually quite proud of yourself.

He laughed softly and pointed toward the table with his thumb.

“Should we get dessert before it’s all gone? Maggie was planning to finish everything.”

You, who had fully expected the conversation to end after the first sentence, laughed quietly and followed him to get dessert, still not entirely convinced this was actually happening.

It had been a nice night — you had to admit that. Your sister announced her engagement, your nonna made your favorite dessert, your mother somehow won at karaoke, and two families met for the very first time. And you, somewhat shyly, allowed yourself to laugh until your stomach hurt at the silly things Kimi Antonelli kept saying, as if he were just a boy like any other.

When it came time to open the presents, the festive Christmas evening slowly drew to a close. It ended with him unwrapping the gift his mother had chosen for him — a plush version of himself dressed in his Mercedes race suit — which he immediately declared, laughing, “this one’s going into the collection,” before she handed him the actual present.

Nice. Very nice, actually. Something interesting to tell your friends, something that would absolutely blow their minds. You would see Kimi again at the wedding and… that would be it. A very interesting story to tell. Maybe you’d run into each other at another family event or a school reunion — both unlikely, considering his packed Formula 1 schedule — and life would simply move on from there. You were already happy with the night you’d had.

But the next day, he texted you.

“Okay, I have thoughts about your farm take.”

And the day after, he texted again.

“My mum says you’re exactly like your sister. I don’t agree with her, but that’s not a bad thing. Hear me out…”

And the next day. And the one after that. Always something new. Always a conversation that somehow wandered into unbelievable directions, music tastes, colors, dinosaurs, terrible internet jokes, about how much he knew about Formula 1 or motorsport in general, and that topic could go on forever. You had never imagined Kimi could talk that much.

The messages became so constant they turned into… normal. So normal that you forgot to ask how he had gotten your number, considering you had never given it to him.

Everything had gone completely off script, assuming there had ever been a script to begin with. So far removed from anything you had imagined that, on a random day in the middle of January, you somehow found yourself at his family’s house.

Because he wanted to show you his new helmet. The one he would wear for the entire racing season.

He had actually come back to town just for that.

Ah! You said house? No, no, no. Bedroom. You ended up in his bedroom.

“Wait here, I’ll grab it!” he said, already heading toward the closet.

And you waited, sitting on the bed.

During the three minutes Kimi took to grab the helmet and bring it back to you, you had enough time to look around and understand a little more about him. First, you needed to calm your racing heartbeat and the slight tremor in your hands. Then you noticed all the motorsport posters — and basketball?! — on his walls. There were some books too. Everything was organized in a way that suggested no one really lived there for long.

You knew Kimi didn’t actually live there anymore — he had his own apartment now, or so your sister had said. Somewhere else.

Kimi came back carrying the helmet inside a black case, holding it carefully with both hands. You had never seen a Formula 1 helmet in person before, so you hadn’t realized it was that big.

“Are you ready? I haven’t opened it yet. I don’t even know how it turned out,” he said, placing it on the bed as you stood up.

He hadn’t seen it yet? You frowned.

“Okay… show me,” you said, stepping closer. “I’ve never actually seen one before. It's my first time.”

“Hm, is it?” he asked, looking at you thoughtfully. “Alright. I’ll be gentle. No need to worry. It doesn’t hurt.”

Wait.

You blinked.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was barely holding back a laugh, and you immediately covered your face with both hands.

“Oh my God,” you groaned. “You are such a boy. Just open it already!”

And Kimi was laughing. Really laughing. Until he wasn’t anymore, and all that remained was a cheeky grin. He walked back to the bed and unzipped the helmet case.

“You got all flustered. The way your neck turns red when you’re embarrassed is really cute,” he said casually, taking the helmet out of its cover.

Your heart skipped a beat. Your brain didn’t quite manage to process his words, looping instead on a single thought — compliment, compliment, compliment. Much to Kimi’s obvious delight, you turned even redder. Your hands suddenly unsure of where to exist, and for one terrifying second, you forgot entirely how conversations were supposed to work.

Apparently, this was going to be a recurring problem.

You went quiet, didn’t answer, and honestly wouldn’t have been able to. If Kimi noticed, if he had been expecting a response, he didn’t show it. In fact, he picked up the helmet to examine it, now genuinely focused on the object. He turned it from side to side, running his hand along the inside to test the padding before lifting it over his head to look inside it.

“What do you think?” he asked, holding it out to you.

Stepping closer, you took the helmet carefully into your hands. The first thing you noticed was the weight of it. Heavier than you had expected, solid in a way that immediately made you adjust your grip.

You glanced up at Kimi instinctively, as if searching for confirmation that this was normal. Your eyes landed on his neck. Very… different… from a normal neck.

Right.

Neck training.

Mandatory.

Just a neck. But bigger. Nothing unusual.

That long voice message he had once sent you about G-forces. You knew about it, of course.

You swallowed and forced your attention back to the colors, and there were many. A very colorful helmet. Very Kimi.

“Doesn’t this one have stars?” you asked.

He tilted his head to the side.

“Stars?”

“Yeah, stars. Like those on last year’s helmet.”

Kimi raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. You looked up at him, confused.

“You know what my helmet looked like last year?”

Oh. Oops. You had just revealed that you knew an extremely niche detail about an object he used exclusively for work. Haha. So funny. You were very tempted to put the helmet you were holding straight onto your own head and disappear inside it forever, but you didn’t get the chance, because Kimi gently took it from your hands.

“You’re going to help me put it on,” he said.

Wait, what? A sudden flutter settled in your stomach.

“You don’t know how to put it on by yourself?” you asked, instinctively hiding your hands behind your back.

Kimi shrugged and pushed his hair back from his forehead with his free hand.

“I don’t have a balaclava. It’s harder,” he said, as if that explained everything, which it absolutely didn’t. His eyes drifted back to yours, like he couldn’t quite understand what was holding you back.

He adjusted his grip on the helmet and waited.

“Hm… you’re not coming over here?”

“Over there?” you repeated, still rooted to the spot.

Kimi tilted his head, a hint of amusement tugging at his mouth.

“Unless you have magical powers I don’t know about, I think you’ll need to stand a little closer if you’re going to help me adjust the helmet.”

“Right. Okay. I’m coming over,” you said.

“Okay.”

You took a step toward him. Kimi wiggled both eyebrows, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips. You rolled your eyes, glanced away, and threatened to take a step back. He clicked his tongue.

“The three longest steps I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Your arms stayed relaxed at your sides as you looked back at him.

“Could you put the helmet on so I can adjust it, please? You’re talking too much.”

Kimi let out a quiet laugh but lifted the helmet anyway, lowering it carefully over his head before looking back at you through the visor opening.

“You’re very bossy.”

You stepped closer, raising your hands hesitantly toward the sides of the helmet.

“I thought you wanted me to adjust your helmet.”

He tilted his head slightly so you could reach better, but instead of answering right away, his gaze lingered on your face, far too amused for someone supposedly focused on racing equipment.

“Oh, no,” he said softly, his voice muffled behind the helmet. “I just wanted you closer.”

Fuck.

Once again, there were no words in the world that could fully describe what had just happened. You were starting to lose all dignity at an alarming rate. You blinked once, twice, your gaze slipping away from his, even knowing Kimi was still watching you, dropping instead to focus on fastening the helmet strap beneath his chin. Without the balaclava, your fingers brushed softly against his skin.

When that happened, Kimi closed his eyes.

“Done?” he asked, voice low.

“Yes,” you agreed, taking a step back.

Kimi lifted a hand to close the visor and tilted his head slightly, testing the fit. Then he took a step back and turned toward you. Even with his eyes hidden behind the dark visor, you had the distinct feeling he was looking right at you.

“Is it good?”

At one moment, your eyes were on the helmet. You really wanted to say it was beautiful, that you loved it — the colors were vivid and cool. But your eyes had a habit of betraying you, and now they drifted slightly downward… his neck again… his shoulders… the movement of his arm as he lifted his hand to test the tightness of the strap. And his hands themselves. You’d already mentioned the hands, hadn’t you? The rings around his fingers and… well. Yes.

You cleared your throat.

“It looks good,” you managed, swallowing right after.

For one brief moment longer, the two of you stayed like that: the helmet visor lowered, Kimi standing still, and you not quite sure what to do with your own hands. The silence stretched just a little too long, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your ears. You tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing around the room as if searching for something to anchor yourself to — and your bag on the bed became the perfect excuse. You stepped toward it, grateful for the movement. When you looked back at Kimi, he was finishing taking off the helmet, unsuccessfully trying to fix his hair with one hand while holding it with the other.

“Are you leaving already?” he asked, setting the helmet carefully inside its case as he spoke.

“Yeah, I… have to help my mum with a few things.” You shifted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth either.

Kimi watched you, his gaze steady enough to make you suddenly aware of yourself. You straightened your posture without meaning to. His hair was a mess, his face slightly flushed from the helmet.

“I’m traveling tonight,” he said suddenly, glancing down as he adjusted the zipper of the case before looking back at you.

“I thought you were staying there until testing started,” you replied, fingers absently brushing the pendant at your neck.

“I was. I am.” He hesitated, one hand resting on top of the helmet case. “But I wanted to come here to see the helmet at home.” A small pause followed as his thumb traced the edge of the case. “I chose the details, so it felt fair that the first time I put it on would be somewhere important.”

For someone who had worn special helmets so many times before, he seemed to consider this new one something particularly meaningful. You still hadn’t decided why that was.

Your gazes met again, and you became fully aware of the soft shiver that ran down your spine. At last, Kimi let the helmet rest and stepped away from it, moving closer to you.

“I guess this is a goodbye, then. For now.” He said, cutting through the growing tension that had nearly become tangible. But there was something hopeful in the way he looked at you. “I’ll be back soon and, well, you can watch me through the pre-season testing cameras if you want.”

A little breathless, you nodded, and a second later remembered to smile.

“Yeah, okay. I will.” you replied, trying to match his enthusiasm.

Kimi let out a laugh, light and melodic, and then did something you would have never, not in a million years, imagined would ever happen to you: he lifted his arms, closed the distance between you, and pulled you into a tight hug, as if you were close friends who had known each other for years and not… Andrea Kimi Antonelli and, well, you.

Your face had never felt so warm before, so close to being mistaken for a fever. When you hugged him back, uncertain, trembling, hesitant, he destroyed whatever remained of your sanity:

“Thanks for coming. I’ll text you when I land.” as if it were unthinkable that you wouldn’t be informed of his safe arrival in another country.

You weren’t entirely sure how you made it to the front door. All you knew was that your heart was beating so loudly it could probably have been heard from the other side of the city.

That night, while Kimi was crossing continents, you stayed home, reading a book in bed, trying to decide whether you should ask your mum to take you to a doctor just to make sure you weren’t experiencing some kind of delusion or if you should look for someone specialized in the supernatural to confirm you hadn’t accidentally slipped into a parallel reality.

You knew there were plenty of movies like that.

There was that one… 16 Wishes, right? The one with Debby Ryan, where her character receives a box of candles on her sixteenth birthday that grant the wishes she had written in a letter as a child. Maybe that was what had happened to you, just by accident.

You set the book aside and threw yourself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. For a long moment, you simply lay there, stretched out and thoughtful, thinking that after spending so long liking a boy from afar, hearing him say sweet things to you should have felt like a dream coming true. Especially when the boy in question was him.

So why couldn’t you fully sink into the idea that someone like Kimi Antonelli was deliberately flirting with you because something about you had caught his attention?

The thought made you laugh.

You knew the kind of girls he was surrounded by. Not at school, outside of it. The kind of girls he had access to, the kind of girls other drivers dated. Beautiful women, models, actresses, famous singers. They all wanted to be with guys like them. So it was better to be realistic, because if Kimi Antonelli hadn’t been within the realm of possibility back when he was just a little boy dreaming of becoming a kart driver, how could he possibly be now?

But all of that, that entire spiral of thoughts, was a cliché too. Everything about this whole story felt impossibly unreal anyway.

You let out a childish little whine, pretending to cry as you rolled onto your stomach, burying your face in the pillow.

You remembered his scent.

That scent. God.

At the time, everything had felt so overwhelming that you hadn’t stopped to notice it properly, but your brain had kept it anyway. Even through the frenzy, you could still remember the smell of his cologne: something so unmistakably Kimi that you couldn’t even begin to describe its notes.

Oh, no. I just wanted you closer. Handsome, smug bastard. Pulling off something that smooth without a hint of shame. And you fell for it. Of course you did. Honestly, you’d fall for it again and again and again. He should stop saying things like that. Stop doing things like that.

But really, the most pathetic part of this entire situation was you treating it as if it meant more than it did. Honestly, what an exaggeration. Kimi flirted as naturally as he breathed, and now, as he had already made clear at Christmas, you were family.

Except he still hadn’t seen the finished helmet and had flown all the way there to see it with you. In a place that mattered.

And he hadn’t even needed to be there. It was the middle of his work week. Kimi had made the trip just to spend a single day in his hometown to see the helmet somewhere important, when he could, and probably should, have seen it with his teammate and the staff who would actually help him put it on properly, balaclava and all.

You switched off the bedside lamp and slipped beneath the covers as if you were trying to escape your own thoughts. It felt dangerous. Like a ritual, you whispered, stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking, and finally closed your eyes.

Falling asleep that night wasn’t difficult. What was difficult was stopping your brain from deciding to dream about WAGs and magazine covers where you were holding hands with your handsome driver boyfriend.

You liked the dream, of course. You would never admit that out loud.

Kimi really did send a message saying everything was fine. Except he was late. He texted two hours after landing and apologized for it.

Apologized. Right.

He said his mum had been worried sick and that he’d had to send her a photo with his engineer just to prove he was alive. Oh, yes he’d been late texting her too. Which, in all the unnecessary explanations he insisted on giving, basically meant he had texted you right after replying to his own mother.

You knew how much Kimi adored her.

You were trying not to let that go to your head.

The following days passed silently. You didn’t hear from Kimi as often because he had a lot to do: interviews, team videos to film, birthdays coming up that required him to record something thoughtful, photoshoots, and pre-season preparations in general. And you were busy in your own way too. University was coming up. You had to study twice as hard if you wanted to get into that specific one you had dreamed about since you were very young.

But he still showed up.

Kimi was there — in the messages you read a little too late because of the time difference, in the photos of odd little things he found around the paddock, in the selfies he sent covered in silly filters. And you sent things back too.

The bubble grew so comfortable that, before you realized it, you had settled into it.

With time, he became just… Kimi. Even from the other side of the world. Even knowing he was there, racing in one of the most expensive sports on the planet.

He called you two weeks later.

You were still asleep when you heard your phone ringing. Annoyed, you reached out to grab it and bring it closer to your face to see who could possibly be calling. And then you saw his name on the screen. You almost declined it. If it had been anyone else, you probably would have.

But you answered.

It was a video call. Kimi appeared in all his effortlessly beautiful glory, Mercedes cap on and that constant smile that seemed permanently etched onto his face. You, however, had your camera turned off — and he noticed immediately.

“Ehi, buongiorno! What is happening? Where are you? Why is the camera off?”

You let out an irritated groan.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“My God, your voice… I woke you up?” Kimi asked, his voice softening instantly.

“What do you think?” you muttered.

Kimi let out a laugh and glanced upward, away from the camera, answering someone nearby. It didn’t take more than two seconds before his attention returned to you.

“Okay, doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m about to get in the car for testing, and if I don’t see your face now, I’ll have very bad luck and the car will crash. The fans will know it was your fault.”

“They will? You’re going to tell them?” you asked.

He looked momentarily surprised by your answer. A good kind of surprised.

“You get quite mouthy when the camera’s off, don’t you?” he said, amused. “Let’s see if that attitude survives once I actually see your face. Come on.”

You rubbed your face and sat up in bed, yawning audibly. It took you a moment to fully wake up, running a hand through your hair until it looked at least somewhat presentable.

“You’re very annoying,” you said. A lie, of course.

He dragged his tongue slowly across his lips and nodded in approval. With a long sigh, you finally switched the camera on.

“There she is.” he said, his face lighting up at the sight of you. “I really did wake you up, look at you. Che carina.”

Your face turned red, and you buried it against the pillow beside you. Kimi burst out laughing. He was clearly having far too much fun with your reactions.

“Stop,” you said.

“Stop what?”

“That.”

“I’m literally walking toward the Mercedes motorhome. I can’t stop.”

“Very funny. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You looked back at his face, brushing the strands of hair away from your eyes only to be met with his smile again. You were starting to suspect this call didn’t actually have any real reason to be happening.

Your stomach flipped.

“Is Kimi talking to someone?” you heard a strong British accent ask from somewhere behind him — somewhere you couldn’t see.

He shot a quick glance toward the voice, but before he could stop whoever it was from approaching, an arm wrapped around Kimi’s shoulders and George Russell’s face suddenly appeared on screen, curious and openly amused.

“Oh! It’s a girl!” he announced. Not to the camera, but to the nearby team members. Then he turned back to Kimi, who quickly lowered the phone, leaving you staring at nothing but a section of his T-shirt. “Your girlfriend?”

“Mate, give me a second. We’ll talk later,” Kimi replied, his tone noticeably different from the confident one you were used to hearing.

He sounded… shy.

“Aaaah, so it is your girlfriend,” George teased.

“She’s not my girlfriend…” Kimi said, uncertainty slipping into his voice.

“Yet,” the voice called from farther away, as if George had already walked off.

The tips of your ears burned red when Kimi lifted the phone back toward his face. And it wasn’t just your ears that were red: Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s entire face was flushed too.

He cleared his throat.

“Sorry about him.”

“Oh, it’s okay.”

“He’s an idiot.”

You laughed.

“He seems nice, though.”

Kimi smiled.

“He is. He just likes to mess with people.”

Your laughter faded into a small smile, almost matching his. Then Kimi glanced away from the phone, finally coming to a stop, clicking his tongue softly.

“I should go. Duty calls.” His attention drifted back to the screen. “Are you going back to sleep?”

You shrugged, letting out a fake sigh of annoyance.

“I don’t know. Someone kind of ruined my peaceful morning.”

“Ah, mi dispiace.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

“Bye, Kimi,” you said, biting your lower lip to hold back your smile.

He looked at the screen for a second longer.

“Bye, carina,” Kimi said, then ended the call, leaving you with every butterfly in the world fluttering in your stomach.

Five minutes later, he sent another message:

Ah! I forgot to tell you. You and your sister need to stop by my mum’s house later to sort something out for the wedding. I told her I was going to call you, and she asked me to let you know.

You smiled to yourself in your room, your phone resting on your chest, because he had actually had a perfectly legitimate reason to call you and had simply forgotten.

Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Ugh, cute.

Somehow, in a way completely beyond your understanding, Kimi had managed to get time off from pre-season testing with only two weeks left before the first Grand Prix of the year just to attend his cousin’s wedding.

Before, you hadn’t realized what that truly meant. Now you did. For a Formula 1 driver, days reserved for family were almost a luxury, yet Kimi talked about it as if it had taken no effort at all to convince the people in the garage — as if being there had always been the obvious choice.

It was incredible.

You didn’t saw him when he arrived, even though you knew exactly when it happened because he had told you. You knew he was having a serious problem with his tie and that “you would be a great help in solving this situation, but he wasn’t going to force anything because you were busy being the bride’s sister” — his words. You knew when he made it to the reception, and just how handsome he looked, because he sent you a photo that nearly made you lose track of all your responsibilities that afternoon.

Only fifteen minutes before leaving the room where your sister was finishing getting ready for the best day of her life did you finally feel panic threaten to swallow you whole.

You stopped. Just… stopped. Your breathing came out uneven, your body refusing to respond the way it should. The anxiety was strong enough to make your stomach ache.

Through the mirror, your sister noticed you. She was already ready — spectacular, so beautiful you wouldn’t even know where to begin describing her — and definitely the person who actually had every reason to be nervous. And she was. Still, the moment she saw the slight tremor in your body, she stood up to help you.

“What is it, shorty?” she asked, cupping your face gently between her perfectly done hands.

Your eyes refocused and met hers.

“I think he’s waiting for me downstairs,” you admitted, biting the inside of your cheek.

The smile she gave you was so sweet it nearly gave you a sugar rush. Her laugh was just as soft, like she couldn’t quite believe that was your problem.

“You’re more nervous than I am, you know that? And it’s my wedding.” She sighed, her fingers brushing affectionately along the side of your face before settling on your shoulders. “Go talk to him before the ceremony starts. Kimi’s just a silly boy. I’ve seen him throw socks at the man I’m about to marry, a grown adult. They’re all ridiculous. Don’t let yourself be intimidated by those idiots.”

You let out a nervous laugh and lifted your hand to touch hers. The smile lingered as you thought about what your sister had said, turning her words over in your mind. Slowly, the smile faded, a small crease forming between your brows as you clearly drifted into thought. The sudden change made your sister’s expression shift into concern.

“What if he hugs me?” you asked, almost in a frightened whisper, as if that alone were something dangerous, something forbidden.

Her expression dropped instantly before she rolled her eyes. The hands resting on your shoulders turned purposeful as she spun you around and started pushing you toward the door. You let out a startled, “Wait! Hey!” but she had already grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

“You’re going to do me a favor and go talk to that boy right now! I need my own panic moment in peace. Go!”

Before you could protest, the door closed in front you with a soft click.

“She’s quite intense, isn’t she?” he said from behind, his voice lightly amused, a hint of laughter tucked into the words.

Oh, no. No. No. Oh my God, no.

You froze, still standing there with your back turned to Kimi.

“How much… um, how much of that conversation did you hear?” you asked, your fists clenched at your sides.

Footsteps. Getting closer. Oh no.

“That last part. The one suggesting there’s a boy you didn’t want to talk to… was that me?”

His voice was so close now. You could feel his presence behind you.

“No. It wasn’t you,” you answered quietly.

“Oh. So there’s another guy I should be worried about, then.”

“No! I mean… no…” You hurried to correct yourself, words tangling together. “It was you. Just… not like that.”

You didn’t see it, but the corner of his mouth curved into an amused smile.

Kimi took another step closer. Close enough now that you could feel the warmth of him at your back. Close enough that your heart felt one beat away from escaping your chest altogether.

“How was it, then?” he asked, more quietly.

You swallowed hard but didn’t answer. Kimi bit his lower lip, thoughtful for a moment, as if weighing a decision, and then he made up his mind. He placed his hands gently at your waist, and you felt electricity rush from your head all the way down to your feet.

“Can I turn you around?” he asked softly. “I want to see you. Your dress.”

You let out a shaky breath, worrying the skin of your upper lip between your teeth before finally nodding.

His fingers tightened slightly at your waist, and you instinctively closed your eyes. Slowly, carefully, Kimi turned you until you were facing him.

Your eyes stayed shut.

He laughed, a boyish sound, tipping his head back for a second in disbelief.

“You’re really not going to look at me?”

“No…”

“That hurts my feelings,” he said lightly. “Do you think I’m ugly?”

“No! No—”

A strand of hair had fallen across your face; he reached up and gently brushed it away from your eyes, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Then open your eyes,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

Slowly, you did.

Your knees nearly gave out.

Oh my God, he was beautiful. Truly, unfairly beautiful. His smile, his eyes, the softness of his cheeks. Those stupid eyebrows lifting again just to tease you.

You dropped your gaze almost immediately, but his hand moved to your chin, guiding your face back up until your eyes met his again.

“You’re torturing me,” you whispered.

“Oh, so you do think I’m ugly,” he said, the smile never leaving his face.

“Shut up.”

He laughed softly.

Then silence fell, charged, impossibly fragile as the two of you simply looked at each other.

His gaze flickered briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I could kiss you right now,” he said quietly.

Your eyes widened.

A beat passed.

“But I won’t.”

You weren’t sure whether you felt relieved or completely, hopelessly doomed — and he noticed.

His hand slipped away from your waist only to find yours instead, his fingers threading gently through yours.

“At some point tonight,” he said, “I’m going to kiss you. And it’ll be a surprise. You won’t see it coming.”

Still holding your hand, he stepped back slightly. His gaze traveled slowly from your head to your feet, and suddenly you became painfully aware of everything: the way you were standing, your dress, your hands, your breathing.

But he looked… awestruck.

Kimi drew in a deep breath and let out a quiet hiss.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s unfair.”

Then he tugged you gently toward the exit.

The wedding was ruined.

Not properly, of course. Everything unfolded exactly as it should: your sister was still the most beautiful woman in the room, and you cried appropriately (excessively, actually) when she finally walked down the aisle. The groom looked at her as if she were the only woman in the universe, exactly as he should, and the ceremony was beautiful.

While you stood at the front, Kimi was beside you, both of you witnessing one of the most important moments in their lives. He looked genuinely moved, repeatedly lifting a finger to his eyes to brush away falling tears, far more discreetly than you.

When it was over, your sister raised the bouquet for photos and was quickly pulled into a kiss that bordered on excessive. Everyone applauded, celebrated, and embraced one another — perfection. It was the most beautiful wedding you had ever attended.

And it would have remained perfect, just as it had been planned from the very beginning, if not for one small interruption: the memory of Kimi’s voice. At some point tonight I’m going to kiss you. And it’ll be a surprise. You won’t see it coming. The words lingered over every quiet moment, impossible to ignore — and having him standing right beside you did nothing to calm the feeling.

Before the two of you walked down to join the reception, you lifted your eyes only to find his already fixed on you. Warmth rushed to your cheeks. He smiled soft, knowing and headed downstairs ahead of you.

The dance began, and you stood beside a pillar with a stolen little dessert in hand, watching the newlyweds spin across the dance floor. Your sister looked so genuinely happy that you couldn’t help the soft smile resting on your face, your head tilted slightly to the side as you watched her.

She deserved to be loved like that — completely, devotedly, breathtakingly. Nothing could have made you happier than seeing her that way.

The music drifted softly through the room, warm and golden, wrapping itself around laughter, clinking glasses, and conversations that overlapped into a comfortable blur. For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply exist there — unnoticed, safe behind the pillar, watching love unfold from a distance.

You took another bite of the dessert, barely tasting it.

At some point tonight.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, eyes still fixed on your sister as she laughed mid-spin, her dress catching the light with every turn.

Focus. This isn’t about you. This is her day.

You cleared your throat, as if that alone could convince you that you were fully present, appreciating what you were supposed to be appreciating: the beautiful solemnity of witnessing a love so strong it had to be made official, announced to the world.

You liked weddings. A lot. You wanted to get married someday too. You just didn’t know when that would happen, obviously — especially considering you didn’t even have a boyfriend who could… you know… propose… or—

Your train of thought derailed completely.

Because somehow, your traitorous brain teamed up with your equally traitorous eyes, and together they landed on Kimi across the reception, laughing with his cousins on the other side of the room.

Kimi stood in the middle of a conversation he seemed deeply invested in. There were animated hand gestures, frequent nodding, a lot of “yeah, yeah, yeah” slipping into the discussion. You could tell he genuinely liked the people around him.

None of that stopped you from noticing other things.

His tie was slightly crooked, apparently still losing its battle. The subtle tension along his jaw whenever he clearly wanted to say something but was politely waiting for the other person to finish. And his eyes.

Which shifted focus the very next second.

Toward you.

When your gazes met, his expression changed instantly — as if he had been waiting for you to notice him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Not teasing.

Not smug.

Just… fond.

Your stomach flipped so suddenly you nearly dropped the dessert in your hand. When you lifted your eyes to find him again, Kimi was no longer there.

Oh, no. Oh, no. No.

Your gaze swept across the room, searching instinctively, as if spotting him first might somehow prepare you for whatever he was about to do. Without thinking, you set your plate onto a passing waiter’s tray and turned quickly to keep looking.

Thud.

Your hands collided with something solid — a firm wall of very well-trained muscle belonging unmistakably to driver number twelve. Perfect timing. Almost suspiciously perfect.

Your shoulders pulled inward as you instinctively stepped back, just one step.

But Kimi’s hand closed gently around your elbow before you could go any farther.

“I want to show you something,” he said simply.

“You do? What is it?” you asked, still trying to steady your breathing.

“The maze out back. The garden.”

You blinked. “You want to take me to the maze? Just you and me?”

He laughed softly, like the answer was obvious.

“That’s the idea.”

Oh, no.

You drew in a slow breath, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing.

“You look scared,” he observed, amusement slipping gently into his voice.

“Me? Scared?” you said, a little too loudly. “No. Uh-uh. We should absolutely go to this… this… maze. Just you and me.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly seconds away from laughing, his teeth catching his lower lip as he tried, and failed, to look serious.

Smug idiot.

Then he took your hand.

Smug. Idiot.

“You’re shaking a little,” he said, tilting his head, thumb brushing lightly over your fingers. “Cold?”

Smug. Idiot. He knew exactly what it was.

“Mm-hmm,” you murmured, barely parting your lips. Words were failing you at the moment.

Oh, God. He was leading you through the crowd, past people giving you that look — the unmistakable one that said they knew exactly what was going on and were fully rooting for it.

“Give me a minute,” he said casually. “I’ll warm you up. We just need somewhere a bit more private.”

Excuse me?! Your grip tightened around his hand, and Kimi laughed immediately.

“Wow, that came out terrible,” he said. “I meant my suit jacket. I’m lending it to you. I swear I’m normal.”

You took a deep breath. A very deep breath. This was actually happening. Andrea Kimi Antonelli was leading you by the hand toward the maze, his intentions suspiciously ambiguous, while your heart felt so tightly squeezed it almost hurt.

You hadn’t known it was possible to be this nervous.

As you passed beneath the archway, your eyes followed the leaves overhead. You had walked through there earlier in the day with your sister, seen the place in daylight — but it felt completely different now. Not just because of the lighting, breathtaking under the night sky, or the stone sculptures that gave everything a faintly mystical atmosphere, but because of the situation. Because of what the moment meant.

Kimi guided you toward the bench. Before either of you sat down, he loosened his tie, slipping it off without looking at you — his gaze fixed on the entrance as if making sure no one would interrupt. Then he turned back to you, tucking the fabric neatly into his pocket.

He smiled.

You blinked.

Oh.

Suddenly, you remembered school. Every time you had sighed when he walked past you in the hallway. All those chaotic mornings when he entered the classroom with his friends — loud, unmistakably boys, always seconds away from announcing something ridiculous.

The corners of your notebooks with his name written at the top. The silly games you and your friends used to play — who are you going to be happy with forever? — and every time it landed on Andrea Kimi Antonelli, you clapped like it was the revelation of the year.

You used to watch him from afar. The boy on the rise. So untouchable. So handsome. So… so many things.

You swallowed hard.

Kimi noticed.

“Hey. What is it?” he asked gently, draping his suit jacket around your shoulders.

His scent was everywhere now, and you needed an extra second just to steady yourself through it. God, you liked that smell.

“I… was thinking,” you admitted.

“Oh no,” Kimi said playfully.

You laughed, and a half-smile tugged at his mouth in response.

Then you looked up at him again. He waited patiently, giving you his full attention, ready to hear whatever you were about to say.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of getting my heart really, really broken.”

“Fair,” he said softly.

You hesitated, gathering courage you weren’t entirely sure you possessed.

“Because I’ve liked you for… for a very long time,” you said, your voice coming out small and fragile. “And if what we’re doing here is just… just this… you need to tell me.”

Your breathing felt uneven. Saying those words had taken everything out of you, and Kimi seemed to understand that. He watched you carefully, like someone choosing his next words with care.

“I don’t want it to be just this,” he said softly. “Really… I don’t.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I like you. A lot. I thought maybe I was being obvious, but… maybe not enough. And maybe I arrived a little late compared to you, but… I cannot stop thinking about it.”

His hand lifted, gently catching a single strand of your hair between his fingers, absentmindedly playing with it.

“But?” you asked, already bracing yourself.

Kimi shook his head.

“No but,” he said quietly. “It’s simple for me. I like what we have. I don’t want it to end. I don’t think I could just… go back to before.”

You swallowed.

“But you’ve seen my routine. You know being a driver comes with… things. And being the… girlfriend…” He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “The girlfriend of a driver, she has to deal with… Well, it comes with things.”

You nodded and stepped closer, closing the distance between you.

“I think… we could try,” you said softly. “Not everything right now. But we can start.”

You looked up at him.

“Okay?”

Kimi lifted his gaze to meet yours. He didn’t answer, but his eyes moved slowly across your face, as if mapping every detail. You didn’t interrupt him — you simply watched, feeling the anxiety begin to creep back in.

And then his lips were on yours.

Just like that. Sudden.

You didn’t even register the moment Kimi leaned in to kiss you.

It didn’t last long. He pulled back just enough to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Okay,” he finally murmured. “I told you I’d catch you by surprise.”

You laughed. Silly boy. The warmth of his lips still lingered against yours.

He lifted his hands, gently cradling your face just to look at you again — that soft, boyish smile you’d already learned you were helpless against. And then… he wiggled both eyebrows.

“Stop doing that,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him as if your heart wasn’t currently dancing wildly inside your chest.

He rolled his eyes playfully and pulled you closer by your cheeks.

This time, when his lips met yours, his arms slipped around your waist, drawing you in — and you finally… gave in.

Your eyes closed.

So did his.

Your hand found the back of his shirt before you even realized it, fingers curling into the fabric as if you needed something solid to hold onto. He pulled you closer in response, arms tightening around you as the kiss deepened, gently guiding your head to tilt toward his.

Would it be cliché to say it felt like fireworks were going off above you?

“Do you hear that?” he murmured against your lips.

You opened your eyes — only to gasp softly when you saw fireworks bursting across the sky overhead, actual fireworks, bright and undeniable, not just something your overwhelmed heart had invented.

“Oh my God. I thought that was just in my head,” you admitted without thinking.

Kimi pulled a smug little pout.

“Am I really that good at kissing?”

You rolled your eyes, ready with a comeback, but he kissed you again between a laugh before you could say a word. A warm, tender kiss — full of affection and the quiet promise of a happily-ever-after that had once felt unreal in childhood but somehow now belonged to you.

Andrea Kimi Antonelli might one day be remembered as one of Formula One’s next great legends. But there, on an ordinary night wrapped inside an extraordinary day, he was just your boy.

MELBOURNE, MEDIA DAY (Australian GP) — 2026.

No one knew you were there yet. Not even him.

All you knew was that the past few days had been chaotic — managing to secure paddock access much later than you should have, with tickets nearly sold out, scrambling to find a hotel and a last-minute flight, and still having to adjust to the completely unhinged time zone of that country.

It was a lot.

Even so, on the morning of media day, you had already landed — and after only a few hours of sleep, you were in an Uber on your way to the circuit, your anxiety growing with every turn the car made.

You kept wondering what Kimi would say. Would he be surprised? Would he be annoyed? How were you even supposed to introduce yourself? Were you his friend? Someone he knew? Or… could you actually say what you really were?

Had anyone in the garage even heard about you yet?

You had absolutely no idea.

When you stepped out of the car and thanked the driver goodbye, your stomach very nearly filed an official complaint.

You knew he was in the cafeteria having lunch, and you also knew you’d have to get past security to reach the Mercedes facilities. That part scared you too, because if you weren’t welcomed there, a very real possibility, your entire surprise plan would fall apart on the spot.

Still, you made it through the turnstiles with your paddock pass and suddenly… you were there.

There was so much to take in. So many colors, so much movement: drivers walking past toward their motorhomes dressed in their team merch, others stopped for interviews, surrounded by journalists carefully kept at a distance by security. The place buzzed with energy, crowded and alive in a way that made everything feel bigger than you had imagined.

For a few seconds, you fidgeted with the strap of your bag, turning slowly in place as you looked around, completely lost. There were no signs pointing toward the cafeteria or the Mercedes area, but you figured you’d just keep searching.

That was the problem with doing things without a plan.

A security guard approached, clearly noticing your confusion, stopping at a polite distance.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

You blinked, startled, then quickly held up your access pass.

“I’m looking for the Mercedes facilities. I…” you said, glancing around uncertainly. “I’m… acquainted with Kimi Antonelli.”

Ah, yes. Very convincing. Excellent delivery. Truly flawless.

Of course, he looked at you suspiciously, one eyebrow lifting. Maybe you should show him the photos on your phone? Would he even believe them? With AI these days, you doubted it.

“Yeah, alright. Sure. This way,” he said, already gesturing for you to follow him in the opposite direction.

“Hey! I am telling the truth!” you protested, hurrying after him.

He didn’t even spare you another glance, simply continuing forward while making sure you stayed close behind him.

For nearly an hour, they left you waiting in the public paddock courtyard — without your phone, without your bag, completely alone while they carried out the standard security check. Apparently, showing up at the paddock with a specific driver’s name on your lips qualified as a crime of the highest order and had to be handled with maximum seriousness.

On one hand, you were oddly relieved it meant Kimi was safe. On the other, it was incredibly frustrating to stand there unable to send him even a single message to explain the mess you had somehow gotten yourself into. At last, you were pulled out of your momentary trance when you felt a light poke just behind your ear.

“I think you let them take this,” a familiar voice said right behind you, your bag swinging lightly in his hand.

With an enormous, inevitable smile, you jumped up from the bench and threw yourself into his arms. Kimi let out a warm, surprised laugh as he hugged you back, dropping your bag onto the table beside him.

“What are you doing here?!” he asked, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands, as if he needed to make sure you were actually real.

But you didn’t say anything. You were too busy looking down at him — at the team kit, at the sight of him standing there in his Mercedes colors, dizzy from that unmistakable scent you were no longer satisfied experiencing only through the sweatshirt you had stolen from him.

You hugged him again, hiding your face in the curve of his neck.

“You’re so handsome. This feels like a dream,” you murmured, and he laughed softly once more.

Kimi gently ran a hand through your hair, resting his head lightly against yours.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you admitted, “but security didn’t believe me. Not even when I answered your favorite sock color.”

“That’s a very strange question. What kind of interrogation was that?” he said, amused.

You laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his chin.

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back, lacing your fingers together and picking up your bag so he could carry it himself, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Always.”

“Now let’s get you somewhere actually decent. It’s ridiculously hot out here.” He glanced at you, already guiding you forward. “And after media day, I’m having a word with that security guy. Nobody leaves my girlfriend waiting.”

Girlfriend.

Okay.

Hehe.

“I go on holiday for two weeks and of course that’s when everything blows up,” I exclaimed over the phone.

Avery was down the other end. I’d practically just stepped foot back in my house after fourteen glorious days in Europe and just about had time to fling my suitcase to the corner of my room before I straight away called her. How did I miss everything?! Pretty much as soon as the plane touched down back in America my phone practically blew up with messages and calls and news alerts. Suddenly my best friend’s face was all over TV and I had a billion DMs from people I’d never even talked to before.

“Timing is impeccable as always,” Avery laughed.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

Screw jet lag, this was way more important. We had the longest conversation I think I’ve ever had in my whole lifetime. She told me all about the will of this mysterious Tobias Hawthorne and the people involved. She explained how she’d been flown all the way out to Texas and was now required to live in Hawthorne house for at least a year where basically the whole family resided. Including four of Tobias’s scarily hood looking and intelligent grandsons.

“I can’t lie, this all sounds like it’s been plucked right out of a novel,” I said.

“42.6 billion dollars,” she confirmed, “what gets more fictional than that?”

“Ave this is crazy,” I replied, eyes as wide as saucepans.

“I can’t believe it,” she responded with a long sigh.

“You’re literally a billionaire,” I murmured. Saying it out loud made it even more real, even more shocking.

“I never thought I’d hear anyone say that out loud,” she said, then she sighed again,“I just can’t work out why I inherited it, I mean over his family it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well what did his grandsons have to say?” I asked.

“One thinks it’s a game of sorts, like a puzzle,” she explained, “their grandfather used to give them puzzles when they were younger and he thinks I’m the final one.”

“Are you okay?” I questioned suddenly, feeling guilty I hadn’t asked her right away,

“Yeah I’m fine,” she exhaled, “I’m a billionaire right?”

“No, I mean are you really okay?” I clarified, “because if it were me I know I wouldn’t be.”

“I think I’m okay,” she replied, hesitating a little.

“Avery,” I sang in an accusing tone.

She laughed a little and then, “I don’t know how to feel about any of this,” she sighed, “god I wish you were here.”

“Then I’ll come,” I blurted out, the instinct too prominent to ignore.

“What?” she gaped, as I pictured her with a hanging jaw.

“I’ll come to wherever you are, seen as you can’t come to me,” I replied, “that is if you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” she said, “but that’s a long trip for you and-“

“I don’t care about any of that,” I interrupted her before she went off on a selfless tangent, “seeing you is going to make whatever I have to do to get there worth it.”

“You’re an angel, a real life angel,” she whispered and I could hear the smile in her voice.

I laughed, “see you as soon as possible, I have a plane ticket to book.”

“Wait,” she told me suddenly, making me jump a little, “I’m paying.”

“Avery-“ I said, attempting to begin to decline.

“No, you can’t even decline because I’m a billionaire,” she snapped before I could even say no, “heck I could buy you the whole plane if I wanted.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” I pressed further.

“Let me buy the ticket, it’s the least I can do,” she said, “and I’m getting Oren to pick you up from the airport.”

My mind flicked back to her explanation, the name sounded familiar. It took a few minutes for it to finally come to me, “Isn’t that bodyguard?”

“He’s the only one I’d trust with your life,” Avery explained.

“God Ave, you make it sound like I’m going to get shot,” I attempted to joke.

“I really need to be cautious at the moment,” she said, warning in her voice, “this whole billionaire business is not as glamorous as it seems.”

“Oh Avery,” I murmured sympathetically, “I’ll be there to hear every last drop in a few hours, okay?”

“Thank you,” she said, he tone thick with gratitude, “you have no idea how much this means to me.”

***

Next thing I knew I was on a first class flight to Texas at three AM in the morning. I’d never flown first class before. It’s a shame I didn’t get really experience it, seen as I fell asleep for the entire flight, still exhausted from my previous travels. For the parts I was awake, it was beautiful and such a lovely smooth ride. When I’d finally made my way through passport control and grabbed my luggage I was in search of Oren. Avery had text me the number plate of the car ready to pick me up. Seemed she’d forgotten to mention it was a limo I was being picked up in. That information alone would’ve sorted me out just fine as there was only one limo at the pick up station. I walked up to the window and tapped on the blackout glass. It rolled down all of a sudden, making me jump. A man sat in the front, a flat serious expression on his face.

“Identification,” he said before I could even get a word out.

Identification? What the hell did that mean?

“y/n l/n,” I guessed, my name seeming like a viable option for a response.

“Physical identification,” he clarified.

“Can’t you see my face?” I asked, not really knowing what else he meant by physical identification.

“Do you want to get in this car?” he deadpanned.

Great! I’d gotten on the wrong side of Mr. Smiley now.

I wracked my brain for what he could mean by physical identification, “do you want my passport or something?”

“That’ll do,” he nodded sharply.

I fumbled around in my bag like an idiot until I find my passport. I handed it over as soon as I could.

He took it swiftly and analysed it for a good few minutes, “okay jump in.”

“Are you Oren?” I asked, swinging the back door open and putting my suitcase down by the seats.

“Most certainly,” he replied, as I slid in.

“Avery mentioned you,” I clarified, worried he might he starts speculating I’m an enemy imposter dressed up as Avery’s friend coming to commit a murder.

He gave me a thoughtful look as he began to pull out of the pick up station, “all good things I hope?

“Very good things,” I reassured him.

He smiled to himself, almost looking touched, “that’s nice to hear.”

We fell into an awkward silence. There was nothing more necessarily to be said but something hung in the air waiting to be said, but I don’t think either of us could work out what. Thankfully for me, it was Oren who broke the silence first.

“It is also nice Avery has a friend coming to stay with her but I hope you understand you won’t be able to have your normal coffee and catch up anymore, Avery’s life is so different now,” he said, his tone authoritative and serious.

“I know,” I nodded, “I understand how dangerous it all is. I’m just here to make sure she’s okay.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he replied, “you are a good friend.”

“This is the bare minimum,” I shrugged lightly, “and I know she’d do the same for me if ever I needed it.”

And that was true. She’d do anything for me in a heartbeat. Avery needed me right now, so that’s exactly where I’d be.

***

The rest of the car journey was relatively smooth. I conversed briefly some more with Oren, having the standard school and home life, getting to know me talk. I didn’t mind his company at all, he was a genuine man with a kind heart. I could tell as much from just that hour in the car. When we finally pulled up, sunrise is on the horizon. The house was a phenomenon.

I got out of the car and just stared up at it, my jaw dropped in pure shock. The exterior was huge and it looked like a castle crossed with a Manor House crossed with the worlds biggest mansion. Everything about it screamed prestigious. It reminded me of a historical palace I once toured when I was younger.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it,” Oren smiled, handing me my luggage.

“Oh thanks,” I nodded, “and yeah, woah. Avery owns the whole of this?”

“Every acre,” he nodded.

“Someone needs to pinch me, so I know I’m not dreaming,” I murmured, “it’s magnificent.”

“It truly is,” Oren agreed.

I stared up at the building again and attempt to take in the grounds. It’s so vast I can’t even see all of it. It expands for what seems like forever. I was so lost in thought when my name was shouted that I nearly didn’t hear it altogether.

“Y/N!” shouted a voice. It could only be one voice.

“AVERY!” I screamed, whipping my head around.

I spotted my best friend and suddenly discarded all of my luggage, it somehow seeming irrelevant at this time. We sprinted towards one another as fast as possible and collided. I flung my arms around her and squeezed her as tightly as humanly possible, it’s a wonder I didn’t suffocate her. She did the same, holding me so close that I heard the uneven thumping of her heart in her chest. I inhaled the comforting scent of her perfume as I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling at home in her arms. I didn’t even realise I was crying until we pull away from each other.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she laughed, tears also rolling down her cheeks.

“You better believe it girl,” I smiled, “thanks for the plane ticket, first class is gorgeous.”

“Get used to it,” she told me, with a little wink.

“No, I’m not becoming a gold digger friend,” I shook my head, putting a palm out, “I refuse.”

“We’ll see,” she said, with a graceful shrug.

“Nope,” I shook my head stubbornly.

“Let me show you the house,” she said, veering the subject elsewhere.

“I know you said it was big but you didn’t mention it was this big,” I gaped, my eyes glued to the structure.

She smiled sheepishly, “big was a bit of an understatement on my part.”

“You think?” I laughed, still trying to drink up the details.

As we walked up to the doorstep I became aware of movement coming from behind us, I turned around to see Oren walking around two meters behind us. Quickly I whipped my head back around to Avery, to avoid awkward eye contact with him.

“Does he follow you everywhere?” I asked, dropping my voice low.

“Most places,” she shrugged in reply.

I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s not as creepy as it seems, trust me,” she said, “he’s very subtle.”

“Okay,” I replied unsurely, tempted to turn around again.

“Just don’t think about it,” she told me as we approached the door.

I tried to, but it was impossible not to be aware of someone tracking your every move. I began to wonder if I’d been microchipped with cameras and microphones yet. Avery grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open to reveal what looked like magic.

It seemed even larger on the window with its towering central staircase and large windows. The corridors seemed endless and so did the rooms within them. The floorboards were wooden and glossy, clearly expensive. The carpeted parts were velvet, they must’ve been. I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that everything was embroidered with some sort of gold laced trim. A large, intricately crafted chandelier hung roundly from the ceiling, glistening with crystals. It was mesmerisingly beautiful. And my best friend owned it all.

“Ave…” I trailed off, at a loss for words.

“I know,” she nodded, beaming at me, “come in.”

“I feel like if I walk on the floors I’ll scratch them or something,” I scoffed.

“Don’t be stupid,” she grinned, yanking my arm so I practically fell in, “where should we go first?”

“Shouldn’t we pick up a map or something?” I joked, “is there a tour guide who can show us around?”

She giggled, “I’m your certified map and tour guide today.”

“Lucky me,” I winked, “where to first, oh noble one.”

“How about my room?” Avery suggested.

“Yes! I need a room tour!” I replied, excitedly.

“This way,” she said, grabbing my hand and cocking her head towards the large central staircase, that split into two.

***

I’d thought the house was beautiful but I couldn’t believe Avery’s room. Heavenly was an understatement. She had a queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, that looked so comfy just staring at it made me sleep. She had a chest of drawers and matching vanity and a massive bookshelf that I was green with envy of. I noticed two bifold doors on one side of the room, which confused me.

“Open them,” she grinned, as if reading my mind.

Slowly I curl my hand aground the edge and pried the two doors apart. I almost fainted at the sight. A walk in wardrobe. Of course I’d seen them in the movies but never in real life, in someone’s house. It was such a massive wardrobe, it reminded me of that scene from Barbie, where her wardrobe seemed endless.

“No way!” I gaped at her.

“Way!” she winked.

There were of course other species of furniture, like shelves, a desk and chair, a beanbag, bedside tables, an armchair and so much more. Anything could ever want or need was in that room. Like the huge TV or the mini fridge. There was a small door on the other side, which I presumed lead to an en-suite, as I caught a glimpse of bathroom tiles inside as the door was slightly ajar.

“It’s definitely an upgrade from the car,” Avery exhaled.

I looked at her sadly. I’d offered her to live with us for a while so many times, but she declined each and every time. I thought it was because she didn’t want to be a burden. She never deserved the life she had, she deserved this now. After all she’d been through, all she’d lost, all she’d worked for, she deserved this. And secretly I was glad a random dead billionaire left her in his will.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said quietly.

“What look?” I asked.

“The one where your eyes go all sad,” she murmured.

“My eyes go sad?” I said, almost laughing.

“You know what I mean,” she rolled her eyes, then sighed, “I wanted to live in my car okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled, unconvinced.

No one wants to live in their car, it’s something you’re forced to do when your home is no longer liveable. But I didn’t press the matter, those days were long gone now. Now she had this. She pulled me down onto the mattress beside her. We laid down staring up at the ceiling, my head resting on hers. We didn’t say anything for a good while and the silence was comforting, it was nice. It allowed us to breathe a little.

“This house is full of secret passageways,” Avery murmured after a while.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Nope,” she grinned.

“This just gets more and more like a mystery movie by the second,” I replied, wide eyed.

“I know,” she said, “I’m finding it a little mental.”

“A little?” I scoffed.

She laughed lightly, airily. It was a pretty laugh but not a proper one, if I’d been looking at her face, I was sure that the smile wouldn’t have quite reached her eyes.

I say up and she followed suit, so I looked into her eyes and asked her, “are you really okay?”

There was a long pause. Hesitation. It told me everything already but still I waited for her to respond.

“No,” she sighed. It surprised me that she said that. Avery wasn’t one to admit she wasn’t okay very easily, not even to herself. So the fact that she was admitting that to me out loud spoke volumes. She was really not okay. I didn’t say anything right away and let her carry on.

“This is a lot,” she exhaled, “and I know it makes me sound so selfish. I have everything and anything I could ever want but it’s just so much to adjust to.”

“You don’t sound selfish, you sound human,” I reassured her. She needed to know that her feelings were normal, if I were in her position I know I’d be a mess. But she was here, holding it all together or trying to at least.

“I have a helicopter, a freaking helicopter and there’s all these interviews I have to do, functions I have to attend,” she exclaimed, “I don’t know what to do with myself half the time. I mean it’s so obvious I don’t fit in, I wasn’t born into all of this.”

She took a sharp breath in and I decided I needed to let her rant and get these things off of her chest.

“School is like a living hell, most people hate me,” she groaned, “private school is not for me, I’ve got no friends there and everyone seems to be either shooting me weird looks or whispering my name. And it shouldn’t affect me and I know it’s pathetically stupid but it really does.”

“Hey,” I soothed, rubbing up and down her arms, “kids are stupid and you know they’re just jealous. Besides you won’t be in school for that much longer anyway. One, two years with these people and then you never have to see them again. And you’ve only just joined recently, there’s time to make friends if you want to. And I’m only a call away, no matter where you are, what time it is, we have phones for a reason.”

“Yeah,” she blew out a breath, “yeah, okay.”

“You can carry on,” I told her, “just get the weight off of your shoulders.”

“I don’t want to complain, it feels wrong,” she sighed.

“Nu-uh,” I snapped wagging my finger, “you’re a human with feelings which means you have every right to complain so shoot girl.”

“Thank you, really,” she said, her big hazel eyes deep with gratitude.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum, this is like getting you a spoon from the cutlery drawer when you ask,” I said, “now tell me, what else?”

“My life is apparently constantly at risk, I mean I have bodyguard who is standing outside this door right now,” she replied, “I could be killed. Literally killed. And people want to do that to me and that’s so hard-“

Her voice broke and she struggled ro pull herself together, despite how hard she was trying. I instinctively enveloped my arms around her and pulled her tight to my chest

“I’m sorry Avery,” I murmured, “that’s awful, absolutely awful. But you have Oren and you know he’s going to take good care of you, you have whole teams of people preventing that from happening.”

She mumbled an indecipherable response and let a few tears slip.

“And these stupid people aren’t making things any easier for me. All of them are so…” she trailed off, “I can’t find the right word to describe them. Grayson thinks I’m some sort of threat and I’ve inherited this money because I’m a scheming, lying, manipulative snake. Xander seems to live to confuse me, constantly throwing out weird phrases that just throw me off. Nash, well Nash is just very laid back, he doesn’t seem to care about me or my role in the will which is good, but I don’t like the way he looks at Libby. And Jameson…” she hesitated, “Jameson thinks I’m just a game, one left by his grandfather. And the worst part is I dont even know what I’m here and I can’t figure it out.”

“Yet,” I replied.

She titled her head, confused, “What?”

“I can’t figure it out yet,” I explained.

“That’s patronising,” she said, “are you trying to take me back to first grade?”

“It might help you,” I shrugged.

“First grade?” she laughed.

“An open mindset,” I clarified.

She doesn’t reply.

“These grandsons for the most part seem a bit snobbish if you ask me, you shouldn’t pay too much attention to them,” I said, “they’re not worth you at all. You’re not a snake, you’re not stupid, your sister isn’t a prize and you’re not a game. You know this, in here,” I press my palm on the left side of her chest, “don’t let them make you forget it.”

She smiled through glossy eyes,“what would I do without you?”

“Have a mental breakdown in the shower alone and pretend it’s all okay,” I guessed.

“I did that yesterday,” she told me.

“Damn it I didn’t get here fast enough,” I joked, my heart breaking at the thought of Avery sobbing all alone.

She cracked a weak smile, “you got here, you are here, that’s all I care about.”

“Just take a second and breathe, okay?” I said.!

“Breathing,” she replied. I could hear she was breathing in and out in a rhythmic, calming motion.

“Good, keep going,” I nodded in encouragement.

We fell into silence again but like most of our silences, neither of us felt discomfort. I let her breathe, I let her think, I let her have the moment to herself I know she’d felt to selfish to take since she got here.

“Better?” I asked after a while.

“Better,” she nodded her head.

“You’re going to get through this, it just all seems a lot right now because you’re not used to it and it’s all come at once,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied.

We wrapped our arms around each other, a warm hug acting as some sort of cocoon, excluding the outside world for mere moments. I breathed in her shampoo, the smell comforting. We stayed in each other’s arms for long time. We had both needed it.

“I’m really glad your here,” she whispered as we pull away.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” I told her.

***

“I still can’t believe you live here now,” I exhaled, the side of my cheek pressed on her head.

We’d gone back to talking, catching up on each other’s lives for a bit. It seemed we just never could stop talking. And it felt good.

“I know, it’s crazy,” she admitted, “me and Lib have just about got used to it.”

“Libby’s here? Now?” I asked excitedly.

Avery nodded.

“Please can we go and see her?” I asked, “I haven’t seen her in so long.”

“Of course,” she grinned, “I’m just going to ignore the fact that you love my sister more than you love me.”

“It’ll probably make you feel better,” I shrugged, teasing her slightly.

“Hey!” she laughed, slapping my arm lightly.

I’d forgotten how much I’d missed Avery’s company. She wasn’t just my best friend, she was part of me. Every time we were together I was just immediately elevated. I needed her.

“What? You said it,” I grinned, poking my tongue out.

“My best guess is that she’s baking in the kitchen, so we’ll look there first,” she explained.

“How comes she’s baking at nine in the morning?” I asked.

“She’s productive,” Avery shrugged.

I nodded as we exited her room. I followed Avery, presuming she would know where she was going. But after a labyrinth of corridors and a few smiling landmarks, I began to doubt her orienteering skill and decided we were lost.

“Ave I swear I’ve seen that suit of armour before,” I mentioned to her.

“There’s a suit of armour?” she asked.

“We’ve seen it like three times now,” I nodded, pointing to it.

She tilted her head and examined it, “we have not!”

“I’m telling you we definitely have,” I replied,

“You have walked past it four times actually,” a sudden voice said, making me jump out of my skin.

I turned around to see a boy coming up behind us. He was very tall, towering over both Avery and I. There was a bounce in his step and amusement in his voice, he was young, energetic and full of life. He had dark skin and a small grin planted on his lips. And there was a certain wistful sparkle in his eyes. I presumed he was one of the four grandsons, but I was trying to work out which one due to the descriptions Avery had given me.

“Have you been watching us?” Avery scoffed, arms folded,

“I just happened to notice you walking past four times,” the boy shrugged.

Avery narrowed her eyes at him, “why did you count?”

“I wanted to see how many tries it would take you until you realised you were lost,” he replied coolly.

“We’re not lost,” Avery insisted.

“Are you sure?” he chuckled, eyebrows raised.

“I call it non-purposeful wandering,” I piped up

He looked at me for the first time, his deep chocolate eyes meeting mine. His eyebrows now shuffled inwards and he tilted his head to the side, “I don’t recognise you.”

“I’m y/n,” I smiled, “I came to visit Avery.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he nodded, “did you only just arrive?”

“It was about an hour ago,” I shrugged in reply.

“Did you fly all the way out here?” he asked me.

“From Connecticut to Texas,” I confirmed with a short nod of the head.

“Now tell me,” he said, looking very serious, “do robots interest you?”

I side glanced at Avery and she subtly signalled for me to carry on conversation.

“I’ve never really thought about it before,” I said honestly.

“How have you lived your life without thinking about robots?” he gasped, looking somewhere between purely shocked and offended.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “should I start?”

“I’d strongly advise you to,” he said, “they’re most interesting.”

“Is that why you’ve got a singed eyebrow and oil on your sleeves?” I asked, not being able to suppress my mind’s curiosities.

“Observant,” he smiled.

“That’s what they say,” I replied awkwardly, knowing Avery would tease me about this later.

“Robots have a tendency to explode when you get them a bit wrong,” he explained, “if you can get past that, it’s great.”

“Explosions don’t really sound like my cup of tea,” I said, “but I suppose you never know until you try.”

“You have a good spirit,” he told me, “I think you would work well with robotics.”

“Thanks,” I replied, taking it as a compliment to mask my confusion over the whole conversation. I took him as someone who you just rolled with, no matter what. So that’s what I was attempting to achieve.

“Blueberry or lemon?” he asked me.

“Blueberry, no matter the context,” I answered without missing a beat.

“I like you,” he nodded, “Avery can we keep her?”

“For the time being,” she grinned, “unless she starts biting.”

“Can’t make any promises,” I winked then turned back to the boy, “you know your way around this place right?”

“Most of it, though I still discover a new secret passage way every now and then,” he shrugged, as if it were the norm to find secret passageways around your house.

“Do you know how we get to the kitchen?” Avery asked.

“And you said you’re not lost,” he teased her.

“She’s testing you,” I said,

“Is it because you got stuck non-purposefully wandering on your way there,” he smiled, using my precious wording,

“Precisely,” I nodded.

“Okay then,” he replied, “to get the kitchen you just need to follow these suits of armour and when they stop take two rights and walk down your closest set of stairs. You should find it there, if I’m not mistaken.”

My jaw hung slack, “you memorised that?”

“Sort of, thought I usually end up stumbling upon the kitchen by accident through a secret passage way,” he shrugged, “it’s an important room to locate.”

“I guess,” I agreed

He nodded, “Safe travels.”

“We’re not trekking across a desert,” I laughed.

“No,” he smiled, “this is much worse.”

And with that he turned and walked in the opposite direction. We watched him until he exited the corridor and went off elsewhere.

“That’s Xander,” Avery filled me in.

“The one who’s addicted to scones?” I asked, the blueberry or lemon question finally making sense.

“Yes, that’s him,” she confirmed.

“Yeah that figures,” I nodded, “I like him.”

“He’s nice, I mean he doesn’t act like he wants to kill me all the time so that’s a plus,” she said.

“Oh yeah, when do I get to meet the angel of a man who keeps wishing you death?” I grinned.

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” she grimaced

We finally made it to the kitchen, after a few wrong turns and a game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo. I spotted Libby from the doorway. She was piping vibrant blue icing, almost the colour of her hair, into a pink sponge cupcake. I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, tightly squeezing her closer. She let out a small gasp in surprise.

“Guess who?” I murmured excitedly.

“Is this real or does someone have to pinch me?” she asked, the smile in her voice.

“It’s real,” I assured her.

I let go of her and she spun around, cupping my face in her palms.

“Y/n!” she beamed widely at me, brining me in for a hug, “hi love, it’s been a while, huh?”

“Too much of a while if you ask me,” I mumbled into her.

“Glad to see you again,” she smiled as we break apart. The unspoken ‘make sure my sister is okay’ running through her eyes.

“Me too,” I replied, silently reassuring her of the reason I was here.

“I’m starting to think you prefer my sister to me,” Avery scoffed, scooping a little buttercream onto her finger tip and popping it into her mouth

“Sometimes I do,” I replied mischievously.

“Hey,” she complained.

I stuck out my tongue in reply.

“Ooo please taste this,” Libby said, quickly grabbing a couple of cupcakes and handing one to both me and Avery.

“Well it’d be rude not to,” I grinned, taking one gratefully.

“It would,” she agreed as Avery broke the half of the bottom off of her cupcake and put it into of the icing to make her little cupcake sandwich.

I stared at her in disapproval, “you are a monster for doing that.”

“You’re just bitter because it’s the smartest way to eat a cupcake,” she replied.

“When you eat a cupcake you shouldn’t be analysing how you eat it you should just eat it how it is,” I exclaimed passionately. We’d had this fight many of times and I would never stop backing my corner.

“I don’t want icing smeared up my nose,” Avery defended, “and this is the best way to prevent that.”

I shook my head and took a bite of my cupcake, like a normal person. The flavours tantalised my tastebuds, teasing them to crave more. The cake itself was airy and light, not too dry but not too moist. It was the perfect cake to icing ratio and nothing was over sweet or too artificial. It was like heaven on my tongue. I’d really missed these.

“So…” Libby asked, nervously, “what do you think?”

“How do you do it?” I replied, taking another bite.

“Good?”

“That’s an understatement,” I told her, “is there fairy dust in this or something?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” a new person entered, cutting off whatever Libby’s reply was. His accent was definitely Texan and I looked up to my surprise to find an older looking man. Well not old at all, just older than me. I presumed he was in his twenties. He wore a cowboy hat, titled slightly to one side and from under it I noticed his brownish-blondish hair. He had hazel eyes and a sharp jawline but what stood out to me was his nose. He had a similar nose to Xander which gave him away to being another grandson, but which one?

“What are you doing here?” Libby asked, annoyance in her tone.

It surprised me. I had never heard Libby talk to anyone with any remotely negative connotation. I widened my eyes and looked to Avery who only shrugged in response.

“Coming to check up on you and your crazy cupcake baking obsession,” he explained, walking further into the room.

“I don’t need checking up on,” she grumbled, turning back to her piping bag.

“Oh I know that darlin’,” he smiled. It was the kind of smile that you don’t see often, the kind of smile that shows everyone else in that room that the person who is being smiled at is the other person’s whole world.

No one had ever smiled at me like that.

I scooted closer to Avery and whispered, “Are they…”

“I don’t know, I’m 99% sure but it’s not official,” she explained quickly.

“Oh okay,” I nodded.

We watched as they bickered, back and forth for a little bit, unsuppressed smiles on both of their faces. They meant something to one another, even if they didn’t know it yet. They continued to argue until the cowboy noticed my presence.

“Who’s the new one?” he asked, nodding at me

“New one? She has a name,” Libby said sharply.

“I’m y/n. Avery’s friend and Libby’s practically adopted little sister, nice to meet you,” I introduced myself.

“Am I even relevant anymore?” Avery sighed.

“Nope,” me and Libby grinned simultaneously.

“Nash,” he nodded, shaking my hand, “nice to meet you too.”

“We’re going to get going now,” Avery said, “I haven’t shown her the bowling alley yet.”

My eyes widened, “bowling alley?”

“Catch you guys later,” she grinned, pulling me out of the kitchen.

“You have a bowling alley in your house,” I said, still in shock, “why didn’t you tell me already?”

“When’s the best time to bring up the fact you have a bowling alley, I mean it’s not exactly normal conversation,” she told me.

“Okay fair enough,” I responded, as we start walking again, “so are we meeting everyone like it’s a parody of sorts?”

“Seems like it,” she sighed,

“Tour of the hottie Hawthorne’s,” I joked, spreading my arms out to reveal an invisible sign.

She giggled, “hottie?”

“Oh please, you can’t deny it, they’re all gorgeous so far,” I said.

She looked around cautiously, “they could be listening you know?”

“Oh well I’m sure they know,” I scoffed, “besides you’re telling me that you don’t find at least one of them attractive?”

“Moving on,” she said quickly, brushing over the subject, with pink-tinged cheeks.

“Are you blushing?” I asked her.

“No,“ she replied bluntly, “shut up.”

“You’re blushing,” I sang, “which one is it? Oh please tell me Ave!”

“None of them,” she insisted, digging her heals in.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

She replied, “that’s because you have trust issues.”

“No it’s because I know you’re lying,” I told her.

She didn’t reply.

“You better tell me fast because I will attempt to make a move on one of them at some point,” I warned her, “Nash is already out of the question because he’s Libby’s, so which ones yours? I’ll pick between the other two.”

She laughed. It was the first time since we’d met up that I’d seen her properly crack a smile, her eyes fully lighting up, “pick whoever you want, no one’s mine.”

“You might regret saying that later on,” I warned her.

“Doubt it,” she shrugged, “just be careful, okay? These people, this family… just be careful.”

“I will, promise,” I nodded, “so who’s on stage next in ‘let’s meet the Hawthorne brothers’.”

“It’s a surprise,” Avery said,

I smiled, “oooo how intriguing!”

We turned the corner and I noticed someone approaching. Avery did too, as I noticed her breathing sped up a little.

“Speak of the devil and I mean the literal devil, here comes another,” she muttered.

Approaching us was a blonde. Like his brothers, he was tall, but not as tall. He was dressed in what looked to be a highly expensive suit and matching designer shoes. His face was serious and unemotional, like it was paralysed in a state of seriousness.

“Woah, hello jawline,” I mumbled, after catching a glimpse.

“Wait until he looks you in the eyes,” Avery murmured.

“Oh god he walks really fast,” I said quietly, as he approached closer and closer.

She grinned at me, “rich boy leg strides.”

I tried to smile but fail, “Why is my heart beating so fast?”

“He has that effect of people,” she shrugged, “intimidation.”

“Why does he look like he wants to kill me,” I said under my breath when he was about two meters away.

“That’s just his face,” she reassured me.

I began to ask another question, “Are-“

“Shut up,” Avery hissed and I understood why. The blonde had stopped infront of us and he was staring me up and down, as if he were scanning for some sort of hidden weapon I had.

“Who’s this?” Goldilocks snapped, his voice clearly portraying his dominance.

“A friend,” Avery replied curtly.

“A potential threat,” he said sharply.

Why did everyone in this place think I was some sort of axe-murderer. Was it common in Texas or something?

“She’s none of your business,” Avery grits through her teeth.

“We’ll see about that,” he replied walking away.

He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, though I couldn’t work out if it was because he felt I was too below him or he just didn’t feel a need to. Whatever it was, it was clear that there was a tension between those two, but I decided not to bring it up yet.

“What’s he going to do? Research me?” I scoffed.

Avery shrugged as we continue walking, “probably.”

“You’re kidding!” I laughed.

“I wish I was,” she said, wiping the smile off of my face.

“So I take it he’s the one that hates you for breathing?” I clarified, mentally ticking him off of my list of what Hawthorne’s I had met and what ones I hadn’t.

“Yep,” she nodded, “that was Grayson.”

“Yeesh, his jawline looked dangerously sharp,” I winced.

“Better not get on the wrong side of it,” she winked.

“I think I already am,” I blew out a breath, “I mean if looks could kill…”

“Oh we’d both be long gone,” Avery giggled.

“I get the eye thing now,” I groaned rubbing my eyes, “god, ouch, it burns.”

“Doesn’t the piercing grey just give you a headache?” she asked.

“It really does, have you got aspirin?” I said.

She shrugged, “somewhere in the maze of a house.”

“Was he wearing a designer suit?” I was dying to ask.

“Always,” she nodded.

“You’re kidding, all the time?” I gaped.

She sighed, “All the time.”

***

We spent the rest of the day in various different places. I adored the library and the dance studio as well as the karaoke bar and swimming pool. These people had everything. But something was playing on my mind. I’d met three of the four Hawthornes, which meant there was still one to go. I hadn’t seen the other all day, but I had stumbled across his brothers another few times. I found it odd. Avery only shrugged when I asked her about it and presumed he was drunk somewhere. Avery and I had also convinced ourselves Grayson had a murder club, consisting only of himself, and we were the first on his hit-list. We figured if we went, we’d go together so it’d be alright.

Somehow, after touring not even a quarter of the house, we ended up back on her bed again, me catching her up on old school drama. I’d forgotten that she’d missed the break up of the century with an added cheating scandal from the girl with the guy’s brother.

“Hey I just need to run and find Libby a minute, I’ll be back,” she’d told me, after she’d received a text in her phone.

“Everything okay?” I checked.

“Fine,” she nodded once, “I’ll be back soon.”

But soon didn’t feel that soon. It was a little awkward sat in someone else’s bedroom without them. I didn’t know what to do with myself. After a while, I decided I should look for Avery. I opened the door and smacked into someone and almost toppled over.

“You should really watch you’re going, heiress,” the person said.

“Maybe you should too,” I scowled, looking up to meet a pair of alluring green eyes.

“You’re not Avery,” he replied, looking very confused.

“Gee, you’re observant,” I rolled my eyes, then suddenly felt a pang of guilt, “sorry, I tend to overreact when I’m pissed off.”

“A quality we share,” he grinned slightly.

“I wouldn’t call it a quality,” I said.

I stared at him properly, he was tall with dark, unruly hair. He had a similar bone structure than his brothers but his face was softer than Grayson’s, his features warmer.

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” he smiled, a witty, mischievous smile, “Jameson Hawthorne.”

He extended a hand towards me and I took swiftly it. His grip was hard, strong I noted. Jameson, the brother I was yet to meet. And dare I say it, he was the best looking by far.

“So who are you?” he asked.

“I’m y/n,” I said, “I’m a friend of Avery’s, I’ve come to stay with her.”

“That’s nice of you,” he commented, a little awkwardly.

“It’s the least I can do,” I replied quietly.

He doesn’t say anything back but I don’t want him to. It was hard enough focusing on conversation when he was looking at me. He was gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. His whole face with was the picture of perfection. Symmetrical, but not harshly, it was more of a mellow, kind symmetry, that enhanced all of his features. His soft looking lips, his nice shaped nose and his eyes. God those eyes. They were a rich green like nature, glistening with intelligent thoughts.

“Well I suppose I’ll see you around then,” he said, pocketing his hands.

“I suppose you will,” I replied.

He walked away slowly and I realised that evening that my stomach fluttered whenever I thought about the Hawthorne with the green eyes.

***

That night I found it so hard to sleep. Avery was out in a mere few minutes but I couldn’t even shut my eyes. Tossing and turning and tossing and turning until I got so bored that I just slipped out of bed all together. I pulled a pair of socks on and left Avery’s room, beginning to wonder the dark hallway. I didn’t really think any of it through. Wandering in the dark, alone, in a house I didn’t know, surrounded by people I didn’t know.

“Midnight wandering are we?”

His voice made me jump but I didn’t let him see that. I turned around to see Jameson Hawthorne stood behind me. How long had he been there then? He looked so poised, so ready, like a big cat on the prowl. He needed to know I wasn’t his prey.

“Maybe,” I replied, a smile adorning my lips, “but even if I am I don’t know why that’s any of your concern.”

“Maybe I’m not concerned, just curious,” he said, “are you lost?”

“No,” I lied to myself and the world.

He waited a few beats.

“Maybe a little,” I smiled shyly, “this place is even harder the navigate in the dark.”

“Lucky for you I know it like the back of my hand,” he did, extending his hand towards me.

I stared at it, “do you want me to hold it or something?”

“No,” he shrugged, “I mean if you want to-“

“No,” I blurted out quickly, “not at all.”

He dropped his hand, a shadow of an expression I couldn’t read shifting across his face.

“Follow me then,” he said, shooting me a lopsided grin that I somehow manage to make out in the dark.

I walked beside him. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and slightly baggy pyjama pants. My cheeked heated up as I suddenly became horribly aware that I was dressed in my pyjama top reading ‘I need coffee’ and shorts decorated with cartoon coffee cups. I hoped Jameson wasn’t paying that much attention to me.

“So why are you awake?” he asked casually.

“I can’t sleep,” I replied bluntly. There wasn’t much more to it.

“Straight forward as that?” he said.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged, “why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” he replied, with a small smile.

“Copycat,” I teased.

“Am I stealing your thunder?” he played along.

“Very much so,” I said, folding my arms across my chest, with a pointed stare laced with banter.

“My deepest apologies,” he exaggerated.

“Not accepted!” I exclaimed.

He grinned, then shoved his hands in his pockets, “Where do you want to go first?”

“Where would you like to take me?” I countered.

“I respect people who answer questions with questions,” he noted.

“Good because I do it far too often,” I told him.

“We’re going to the games room,” he announced.

“Why?” I questioned, like a whiny child.

“Because it is where I’d like to take you,” he shrugged delicately, before picking up the pace with longer leg strides.

I struggled to keep up as I asked, “this isn’t going to be like one of those sadistic murders where you cook me alive and blame it on someone else is it?”

“How did you figure out my master plan?” he teased, with a joking expression.

“I guess you’re just too predictable,” I replied, with a laugh.

“So you watch true crime then?” Jameson said.

From that comment I gathered he was an analyser. Just like me. He analysed conversation and made educated assumptions about people. But what split us apart was that he had the courage to say it to there faces, I kept all my observations in my head. I didn’t care if they were unconfirmed. But Jameson did.

“I listen to a podcast now and then, not a fanatic or anything like that,” I replied.

“Should we play a game?” he said to me, changing the subject suddenly.

“I thought we were going to a games room?” I said.

He thought for a moment and then responded, “a pre-game game.”

“I’ve heard you and your family are quite fond of those,” I said.

“Oh really?” he joked, quirking a brow.

“Yes really,” I grinned back.

“I see,” he pondered “and do you like games?”

“Depends,” I replied.

“On…” he prompted.

“What I’m playing,” I told him, “who I’m playing it with and why I’m playing it.”

“Interesting,” he hummed, opting thoughtful tone, “the man who makes it doesn’t want it, the man who buys it doesn’t need it and the man who needs it doesn’t know it yet.”

“Is that a riddle?” I almost laughed. It was so out of the blue, so sudden asking me a riddle in the middle of a conversation.

“Is my last name Hawthorne?” he countered with a smirk.

“A coffin,” I answered briskly. It wasn’t difficult to work out.

His eyebrows flew to his forehead, “that was fast.”

“Your riddle was maudlin and far too simple,” I shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow, “too easy? Okay, let’s try another and see if you’re as cocky.”

“Not cocky, just honest,” I replied.

He paused for a moment, thinking, “how can you physically stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?”

“My father is dead,” I said. It was true. I don’t know he I suddenly felt the need to blurt it out. It just happened.

“Oh-“

“But we’d have to be standing back to back,” I replied quietly, “that’s the answer to your riddle.”

“Correct again,” he nodded, then hesitated, “and I’m sorry about your dad,”

“Oh it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” I shrugged lightly, “I was young when it happened.”

I didn’t remember much, just being told I wouldn’t see him ever again. I had asked why and they had said he was going to stay in the stars now. And when I asked them if he’d ever come and visit, they told me couldn’t. So I cried. During the most part of my childhood I despised the stars, I’d stare up at them with a tear streaked face and curse them for stealing my dad. When I got older I realised the only thief was death and that the stars were nothing but a metaphor to hold a memory.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

I shoot him a small smiled, letting him know I’m okay and that we can move on. He read my expression well and together we carry on. After a little while he stopped in his tracks outside a set of doors. I almost crashed into the back of him as he paused to abruptly. He swung both doors open at the same time, having a little ‘Elsa’ moment in let it go, as he walked through with his held high. I quickly followed, trying not to gape at the extraordinary components of the room.

There was a pool or was it a snooker table, there was air hockey, ping pong, table football, everything you could ever imagine. There was also a regular coffee table, surrounded by comfy looking chairs and a sofa. But what caught my eye the most was the games cabinet. It was a sight to behold. It covered an entire wall and reached all the way up to the ceiling. There was a ladder on the side that looked like it could slide across, like a book ladder. Within the cabinet laid dozens upon dozens of board games and other games alike were piled atop of each other, like books in an old crooked bookshop, all slanted and uneven in the most perfect of ways. There must’ve been thousands of games here. Jameson caught me staring.

“Ever played chess?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t live under a rock you know,” I deadpanned.

He cracked a smile, “good.”

He jumped on the ladder and swiftly pulled out one of the several chessboards from the shelf and placed it down on the little coffee table. I followed him there and we both sat down. He then began to set it up and I was quick to help out the pieces in place.

“How good are you?” he asked.

“Why? You scared?” I teased, attempting to psych him out before the game even started.

“Only curious,” he said, cool as a cucumber.

“I can’t say,” I shrugged, “how can I judge my own ability fairly, I’m biased.”

“I suppose,” he replied, “but you would know if you’re alright at it.”

“I’ve won before,” I said. Actually I’d won quite a lot before, many many times. I wasn’t exactly lying, just being vague to work in my favour.

The board is set up, “what colour?”

“You choose,” I told him.

He shifted the board so the black chess pieces are on his side. Secretly my preference was the white anyway. I did a quick analysis of the board and sketch out a rough game plan in my head. I didn’t spend to long thinking, this game could go anyway and I didn’t want to be thrown off, but knowing what you sort of want to do was a start. Definitely the first few moves anyway.

“You start,” he urged.

“Such a gentleman,” I joked.

“I can’t help it,” Jameson winked in response.

I picked up a pawn between my middle finger a thumb, surprised at how smooth the finish was. This was an expensive chess set. I went with my classic start move of two spaces forwards into the centre. He grinned and mirrored the move on his turn.

“Copycat,” I teased.

“I would apologise but you still haven’t forgiven me from earlier,” he shrugged in reply.

“And I probably never will,” I grinned.

“Is this the beginning of some Shakespearean vendetta?” he scoffed, with a playful undertone.

“It might be, we’ll have to see,” I shrugged, “I haven’t decided whether it’s a comedy or tragedy yet.”

“Pick comedy, I don’t want to die at the end,” he said.

“We’re all going to die at the end,” I told him.

He replied, “not what I meant.”

“I know,” I smiled.

“You’re getting in my head,” he observed, realising my tactic.

“Am I?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

“Yes you’re distracting me from the game,” he said sharply.

“Oh I hadn’t even realised!” I exclaim, doe eyed and innocent.

He narrowed his eyes at me, “your move.”

“Right,” I nodded.

We didn’t have much conversation after that. Actually the only conversation consisted of ‘your turn’ or ‘thanks’. Other than that only the sound of chess pieces being slid about the board could be heard as well as the dull silence that seemed like the loudest sound of them all.

Jameson had a lot of my pieces, the ones I didn’t need in my opinion. I let him have them, I want him to think I don’t know how to defend my pieces.

go on… my mind smiles, please. underestimate me.

I was deceptive and wanted him to underestimate me so I could surprise him, catch him off guard and steal the game from right under his annoyingly perfect nose. But Jameson Hawthorne wasn’t a big of a fool as I thought him to be. The few times I’d been forced to pull out critical moves, he noted them. He began to realise my talent for the game about half way through. He too was a talented player. His moves were swift but calculated, he was going to be a hard opponent to beat.

Move after move. Minute after minute. It was getting intense. Every move was critical, every second in between play was agonising. I found myself constantly self-consciously chewing on my bottom lip, captivated in my concentrated state.

He made his move and suddenly I realised what I can do. I could take a risk and bargain on what his next move was to trick him, but the tactic would only work if he moved the piece I needed him to move, otherwise it was checkmate for me. I sat there, weighing up my options. There was a chance he’d work it out and beat me, but there was also a chance he wouldn’t and I’d beat him. My eyes darted from left to right and back again until I impulsively took the chance. Praying my efforts had paid off, I watch his painstakingly slow next move. He shifted his knight diagonally by two. I wanted to stand up and scream in joy. I had him trapped. Brilliant. My calculated risk had actually worked. I kept a poker face as I realised he’d not yet noticed that I was a venus flytrap and he had crawled blindly towards me.

“Checkmate,” I smiled, leaning back.

His eyes were wide with surprise as his eyebrows shot up to his forehead. The reaction was so real, he didn’t have time to hide it. His jaw wanted to hang down but he was stopping it, I could see the clenched muscles.

“What?” I asked “didn’t plan on being beaten?”

“I was going easy on you,” he gritted through his teeth.

I grinned widely. So losing was a sore spot for Mr Hawthorne. Interesting.

“That would explain why you look so shocked that I won,” I said with a sweet victorious smile.

“Fine, rematch but this time we play Hawthorne chess,” he replied, as if it were a deadly game.

“Hawthorne chess?” I raised my eyebrows.

He only smirked in reply.

***

He explained the rules. It was a lot like regular chess but there were six boards to play over and a few added rules that confused me. It wasn’t long before Jameson had me cornered.

“Checkmate,” he grinned, nicking my king.

“I was going easy on you,” I teased, mocking his earlier comment.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned, looking very unamused.

“Is your ego mended now you have a win?” I asked.

“Not quite,” he replied.

“Shame,” I pouted.

“Another match?” he suggested.

I shook my head then rubbed my temples, “I can feel a headache coming on. It’s probably from my lack of sleep.”

“Do you want me to walk you to bed?” he offered.

I shook my head again, “I’m not tired. My head just hurts.”

“I know something that might help,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Fancy taking a trip the kitchen?”

“This is feeling very serial killer-y again.”

“I only snap into serial killer-y mode every third Wednesday,” he joked.

“Well now I know I’m safe!” I grinned back at him

***

We walked to the kitchen together and I noted it was a completely different route to the one I’d taken with Xander’s instructions this morning with Avery.

Once we got there Jameson leaned against the counter and asked me, “do you like hot chocolate?”

I nodded.

“Or would you prefer a coffee?”

His eyes were pinned to my pyjama set as he said it. I self-consciously looked down and blush a deep shade of scarlet, remembering the deign, as he snickered.

“Very witty,” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, “hot chocolate is fine.”

He fumbled around for a saucepan in the endless row of cupboards. I didn’t know how he knew which one to search in, they were all identical. He put it onto the hob and added some milk.

“Our cook goes home after serving dinner so I’ve gotten pretty good at midnight concoctions,” he explained.

“The way you say that makes me a little nervous there,” I told him.

“Maybe you should be,” he flashed a smile.

He put the hob on to heat up the milk and grabbed the instant hot chocolate powder, whipped cream, mini marshmallows and sprinkles.

“Are you five years old?” I laughed.

“Mentally,” he nodded, “is that an issue?”

“Not at all,” I said , “I’m with you there.”

“Nice to know I have a fellow person who had the metal capacity of five year old too,” he beamed, “our conversations will be incredible.”

“We’re having a conversation right now,” I stuck my tongue out, childishly.

“I’m describing the ones in the future,” he rolled his eyes, before returning my tongue gesture by poking out his own.

I smiled to myself as I watched him silently. Even at this time at night - or was it morning by now - he looked good. I wished I could see him like this every night and not feel like I was stealing glances at him.

“So what about you?” Jameson asked suddenly.

“What about me?” I chuckled.

“Well I don’t know much about you,” he clarified.

“You know my name,” I shrugged, searching for more information about myself, “I’m seventeen, Avery is my best friend, my dad’s dead, I like hot chocolate but I also like coffee, I find the rain relaxing, I used to play chess a lot, I like to read novels, I don’t like sleeping but I do all at the same time… now what about you?”

“What about me?” he tilted his head to the side, copying what is aid moments ago

“I gave you my information now you give me yours.”

“Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, I’m eighteen,” he began, “my best friends are my brothers, I don’t know my dad at all, my grandfather liked to give me games, I like hot chocolate and coffee, I prefer the snow to the rain, I have played chess since I could talk, I like to read too and I love sleeping but I don’t do enough of it.”

He’s countered all off my points and mirrored them with his own. It was interesting to compare us. We were similar but so different. I was about to reply but he cut me off.

“Woah!”

“What?” I asked.

“The milk!” He yelled, worry outlining his features.

I spun around to see the saucepan emitting in a thick blanket of steam.

“Why is it smoking? Can milk even smoke?” he shouted.

“It’s steam!” I rolled my eyes.

“Can milk even steam then?” he quipped.

“It’s a boiling liquid of course it can steam!” I exclaimed, for someone so smart, I did wonder how he was acting so stupidly.

“What do I do?” he panicked, the stress evident.

“Take it off the heat!” I cried out. I’d thought that was logical but no. Apparently it was not.

“Oh shit, yeah,” he said, almost laughing

He took the pan off of the heat and the steam began to die down. We made eye contact and started laughing like mad people, until our lungs couldn’t take it anymore and we had to get our breaths back, our bellies aching. We just seemed to fit, me and him. It was like we were the two missing pieces of a jigsaw that have been lost between the sofa cushions for years and now we’d finally been found and put together to complete the puzzle.

The milk turned out pretty much okay and we prepared the drinks a lot easier than we’d heated them. Jameson added every topping going excessively, which made me shake my head and laugh. When we were both done I took a sip, the warm liquid seeping through my body to the tips of my toes, making me feel a little less cold. It was delicious.

“Verdict boss?”

“S’alright,” I shrugged, “I’m kidding, it’s really lovely actually.”

“I agree,” he nodded, “maybe I should smoke my the milk more often.”

I laughed, “you didn’t smoke the milk, it just got a bit steamy.”

“Steamy,” he wiggled his eyebrows

“You really do have the brain of a five year old,” I sighed inwardly.

“Hey! I thought we already established that and moved on,” he said.

“I felt like we needed the conversation to resurface but we’ll put it to bed,” I sighed, then with a mischievous look on my face added, “for now.”

He grinned at me, taking another swig of his hot chocolate, this time getting whipped cream on his nose. I subtly rubbed my nose, hoping he’d mirror my body language or take the hint. He did. Silence hit us like a bus would hit an animal running across the road in the dead of night. Quickly. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but nor was it comfortable. It just was. The only sound was the occasional sip of our hot chocolates.

After a while, I became aware that he was looking at me, actually it was more like staring. It was an analytical look in his eyes, like I was some sort of science experiment rather than a person.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, trying not to squirm as he held his gaze.

“You’re a lot like Avery you know,” he replied thoughtfully.

The comment caught me off guard and I couldn’t work out why. It wasn’t exactly an insult but it hit me like one. Why was Avery on his mind? And why was she on his mind whilst he was looking at me?

“Our brains work in similar ways,” I hummed, “I think that’s why we’re so close.”

“I noticed that,” he nodded, “but I also noticed you’re quite different at the very same time.”

The same and different? Being cryptic, I’ve decided, is a Hawthorne personality trait.

“How so?” I said.

“There’s something about you that is…” he paused to find the right word, “bolder.”

Bold? Really? That was one of last words I would have described myself with.

“You’ve only known me for a day,” I scoffed, “and you haven’t exactly known Avery for that long either.”

“I know,” he replied, “but you’ll find I’m very observant.”

It was only then I noticed his smile. It was the same smile Nash had on his face when he looked a Libby. And I hated to admit it but he look beautiful. His eyes illuminated, sparkling, bright. He looked genuinely happy. It made my heart melt a little, I wanted to see that smile every day. There was only major problem. I didn’t know if he was smiling at the thought of me or the thought of Avery. He could have easily be thinking about either of us and I didn’t want to get the wrong idea.

“You think Avery’s some sort of riddle,” I stated, trying not to let the bitterness seep through my tone.

“And you don’t like that?” he observed, an eyebrow raised.

“Any person who values another as just another game doesn’t get my greatest sympathies, no,” I told him blatantly.

“And what if she is?” he challenged, defensive.

“Is that all she is to you? Just a game?” I asked, getting angrier by the second, “what happens when the game ends Hawthorne, ask yourself that.”

“Then the game ends,” he shrugged, nonchalant as ever, “there’s not much more to say.”

“So she becomes nothing if not a tool for your own wants and needs?” I asked, stating it as bluntly as a pencil that barely writes.

“I didn’t say that,” Jameson insisted, a mixture of feelings betraying the usual mask he hid behind.

“You’re implying it,” I hissed, my eyes overcast, darkened.

He didn’t deny it and that gave me the only answer I needed.

“Now I don’t know you very well, but from what I have to go off of, I didn’t pin you as someone who was selfish,” I told him, raw passion in my voice, “a little bit cocky and far too brave, sure, but not selfish,” I snapped, my tone sharper, “but you’re acting like it and it’s not fair.”

He didn’t reply. Instead he morphed into some sort of stone statue, unmoving, unemotional, unwavering. I felt like a mother scolding her reluctant child.

“And did you even consider how hard this has been for her?” I questioned him, “coming here, to this labyrinth of a house, her life now dictated by a will, forever changed. She’ll never be able to walk the streets again like a normal person without paparazzi bombarding her. She’s just about adjusting to living here, one of your brothers seems like he wants to kill her, you treat her as if she’s a game and she’s being bombarded by the media, I mean the poor girl doesn’t even know why she’s here. She didn’t ask for this and I don’t want her to have to put up with your ‘I’m a Hawthorne so I’m going to use you because I’m entitled’ shit.”

Again, I got no response. For someone so witty and poetic with his words it was odd that now he chose to be silent. He stood still and said nothing. I wanted to shake him until he made a sound but instead I chose to be diplomatic, I chose to carry on.

“You can’t think of her like that, it’s not fair. Not for her or for yourself,” I said, “if you go by your whole life thinking everyone and everything is a game you’re going to lose people, fast.”

“You sound experienced,” he finally said, not replying to a word of my rant just picking out who he thought I was.

“Yeah well maybe I am,” I laughed bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t realise what it might feel like from her perspective of things. I’m used to being in my grandfather’s world, a world full of games and tricks and puzzles.”

“People aren’t puzzles,” I snapped.

“I disagree with you there,” he said, “people shouldn’t be treated like puzzles but every person is a puzzle.”

“Am I a puzzle to you Jameson?” I challenged, taking a step towards him.

“You’re one of the most intriguing ones yet,” he whispered, moving closer to me.

“Funny, I think I could say the same about you,” I murmured.

My face was inches from his, close enough to see his beauty up close. It was even more breathtaking. He looked down at me, his eyes so tentative, so gentle. We moved closer into each other, like a magnetic force was reeling us in, we had no control. It felt natural, it felt right. Our lips were about to brush…

He cleared his throat and pulled away quickly. My face grew very flushed as my eyes darted to the nearest corner of the room I could focus on.

“Still not tired?” he asks after a few beats of silence.

“Not in the slightest,” I replied, our eyes connecting once again. The soft rolling fields of hypnotic emeralds once again speeding up my heart rate.

“Good because neither am I,” he smirked, “say, have you ever played strip bowling?”

Now this could get interesting.

a/n: again, I’m really sorry for how long this took me to write and I realise it’s not my most amazing work, so sorry 😔😔 I really wanted to portray a strong friendship with Avery as well as interest in Jameson but idk if that was achieved. anyways hope this was okay, thanks for reading <3

“I hate how long it takes popcorn to pop,” Xander groaned putting his head in his hands as he stared dismally brown bag of popcorn doing pirouettes in the microwave.

Jude laughed, shaking her head, “it’s like two minutes.”

“Two whole minutes,” he replied, eyes widened with hyperbole, “outrageous isn’t it!”

“You are funny Xand,” she sighed.

It was one of Jude and Xander’s classic movie nights, they were hosted at least once a month and were quite the occasion. But, as usual, Xander was being extremely impatient for his popcorn. If Jude had a pound for every time they had this conversation, she’d probably be richer than him.

“It wasn’t a joke I really think that-“ the ding of the microwave cut him off.

“You were saying?” she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in challenge.

“In theory,” Xander began, “two minutes always feels a lot longer than it seems.”

“Mmm sure,” she grinned playfully.

Xander had been Jude’s best friend forever now. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. He’d been there for so long he was automatically part of every thought she had, connected to her heart. They knew each other like the back of their hands, an interlocking history of stories shared between them.

“Let’s change the conversation topic,” he said quickly, averting his eyes.

Jude shrugged, leaning against the countertop behind her, “I don’t mind this one.”

“Well I do,” he countered, “let’s talk about you and Jameson.”

Jude’s stomach somersaulted at the sound of his name.

“Xander! Lower your voice!” she hissed, looking over her shoulders.

The kitchen didn’t exactly have thick walls. She’d never actually meant to tell Xander about her feelings for Jameson, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t tell anyone. But Xander was her best friend and there were only so many things she could keep from him. It turned out that birthday presents were significantly easier than crushes. Every second she tried to keep it, she felt like a liar, so eventually the truth was just revealed.

“Relax,” he shrugged, “he’s not even home.”

“Doesn’t matter, you promised me you wouldn’t speak about it,” Jude said, giving him a pointed look.

“So as your best friend you really expected me to say nothing about him to you?” he raised the one eyebrow that wasn’t burnt off.

“Well no but-“

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Xander asked, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“I talk to him every day,” she sighed, “we’re friends, remember?”

“Ouch,” he winced, “the friendzone.”

Jude laughed, “you sound like a documentary voiceover.”

Somehow Xander always managed to make her laugh. He had the rare quality to pretty much turn any situation into a positive light. Jude loved that about him.

“Maybe I should make a documentary about you guys,” he pondered, putting the voice back on, “the Jujubear backs away once again, retreading from the rare Jameson raccoon dog-“

“Raccoon dog!” she yelped, unable to stop herself.

“He gives those vibes,” he shrugged in reply.

“He does not!”

“I think you have an unconscious bias,” Xander grinned, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Nope I’m very conscious of my bias actually,” she stuck her tongue out, laughing.

Jude had liked Jameson for a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. Initially, Xander and Jude had been the two to click, best friends since the day Xander had found her lost doll, the one with her name engraved on the front. She remembered the moment distinctly, a little boy with intelligent eyes and a shy smile walking towards her. She’d been crying and was still a little bleary eyes, yet her expression totally flipped when he revealed the doll and asked her if it was hers. From then on they’d just been stuck with each other.

Jude had always been close to all of the brothers in her own way, growing up around them just naturally made them gravitate together. But with Jameson it had always felt that bit different, that bit more special. He made her feel free, like she could breathe, like the stress of life didn’t matter, like no weight was heavy on her chest anymore. She loved how she felt with him, how he made her feel inside.

“So have you made a move yet,” Xander asked her, a mischievous smile lacing his lips.

She stared at him, her face saying it all, “what do you think?”

“Jude!” he exclaimed, melodramatically throwing his head into his hands.

“It’s really hard,” she defended, arms up like a convicted criminal.

“You’re just scared,” he told her.

Xander was always honest, annoyingly honest. He didn’t even embellish the truth to soften the blow. Jude knew he had a point, she was scared of ruining over a decade of friendship with Jameson. It wasn’t exactly something she wanted to lose over her feelings. She’d rather be friends than nothing.

Still, she was slightly stubborn and didn’t want to fully admit that quite yet, “am not,” she countered.

“Are too!” Xander quipped, “and you can’t even admit it so you’re also in denial.”

“Eat your popcorn,” she grumbled, not looking directly into his eyes.

“Ahhhh so I am right but you can’t accept it,” he grinned, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “I see you Judesicle.”

“I swear to you Xander, I will steal all your blueberry scones if this conversation doesn’t end here,” she glared at him.

His face paled slightly and his jaw hung slack, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she said, with a dark smile.

Xander knew better than to mess with that face. He’d only seen it a couple of times but he recognised it always as a direct warning sign.

“Fine I’ll end the conversation,” he replied with a sigh.

Jude grinned, satisfied, before he flicked her forehead. She was more in shock than in pain but complained just as well. Xander teased her further but she could only smile. He was everything. A ray of sunshine. If she was drowning, he was her lifeline. He was always there, no matter what.

“You know I’ve decided something,” Xander said, popping another piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Are you finally going to properly grow your eyebrows out?” Jude guessed, “seriously I miss them.”

“What? No! Ouch!”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for her water glass.

“I’m going to get you two together,” Xander announced.

Jude almost choked, “what?”

“You and Jamie,” he shrugged.

“What happened to ending the conversation,” she exclaimed with wide eyes.

Xander only smiled, “you never said for how long!”

“Hawthornes and their loopholes,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Of course, the one time she hadn’t been meticulously specific with her words Xander had taken advantage.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he replied, “anyways I am committed now, to make this relationship happen.”

Jude knew that look in his eyes that stubbornly determined look that he often had when one of his experiments was constantly failing. ‘Failure is just success waiting to happen’, he’d once told her. It was safe for anyone to say that Xander was an optimist.

“No you’re not,” she shook her head, “you’re going to stay out of it.”

“You wish,” he pokes his tongue out, “think of me as your wingman.”

“Well can my ‘wingman’ stop meddling with my love life,” Jude deadpanned, folding her arms.

“That’s all a wingman is meant to do!” he yelled, exasperated, “you want to take away my destiny Jude? My one life goal, the desire and aspiration of my soul, the thing that makes my heart-“

“Fine.” she said dryly, “you can help-“

A wide grin spread across his lips, “I knew I’d make you crack.”

“But-“

“Why is there a but!” he pouted.

“On my terms,” she finished.

“Okay…” Xander said slowly, “but your terms can’t be ‘don’t help’.”

Jude made a face.

“You’re so predictable,” he teased, ruffling her hair, “you have to remember I’m the loophole master, you’re not getting anything past me.”

She rolled her eyes, smoothing down the hair on top of her head, “fine, but here are the terms so pay attention. Term one, don’t make it obvious because I swear Xand, if he finds out I’m going to kill you.”

“You know for you to get together he has to know you like him right?” Xander said.

“Yes but knowing you, he’ll find out way to early and if he doesn’t like me back-“

“Which I think he does,” he interrupted.

Jude groaned, she’d been in this cycle with him too many times, “stop feeding into my delusions!”

“But I’m your wingman!”

“Just!” she sighed running her fingers through her hair, “anyway, if he doesn’t like me back the it’ll get awkward so try and retain yourself.”

Xander saluted, “roger that!”

“Second term-“

“How long is this list?” he asked impatiently, somehow he had the attention span of three year old for conventional instructions but not for complex maths.

“You agreed to my terms remember so there’s as many as I like,” she beamed, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

He groaned. He’d missed a loophole.

“Second term: no grand schemes to noticeably leave us together,” she announced, “please try and be subtle.”

“Subtle is my middle name!”

“Xander,” Jude said flatly, “you’re about a subtle as an elephant doing a ballet routine on a pogo stick wearing multicoloured polka dots.”

“I thought you liked that about me,” he said, large brown eyes wide.

“I do,” she reassured him, “just not when it comes to me and Jameson.”

“Rewind,” he cut in, “isn’t term two the same as term one?”

“No, term one is essentially don’t reveal I like Jameson with your mouth,” she explained, “term two is don’t reveal I like Jameson with your actions.”

“What’s term three; avoid obvious body language?” he scoffed.

“Wow you’re picking this up faster than usual!” Jude teased.

“Hey!”

“No sneaky looks,” she instructed, “obvious eye contact, smirks or that wiggly eyebrow thing you do.”

“This?” Xander asked, pointing to his eyebrow and a half, wiggling them up and down.

“Exactly,” she said, “please don’t do that.”

His expression dropped, “but I love making my eyebrow wiggle!”

“Restrain yourself wingman,” she replied, patting his shoulder.

He gave a long and exaggerated sigh, “for the good of your relationship, I will.”

“There is no relationship,” Jude muttered, “don’t get my hopes up.”

“Yet… there is no relationship yet,” he corrected, “I’m not getting your hopes up, I just have a whole lot of faith that this is going to work out.”

She sighed, with a small smile silently questioning what she’d ever done to deserve a best friend with such a beautiful soul in her life.

“Okay,” she confided, “fourth term Grayson and Nash do not find out.”

Xander hesitated for a long second before replying. Jude’s chest seized in panic. No one else was supposed to know.

“Hate to break it to you,” he winced, “but I think they already know.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry but-“

“Why would you tell them!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes, her heart racing.

Part of her almost felt betrayed. It wasn’t like Xander to spill anything she’d told him, in fact he knew nearly all of her secrets. One side of her brain was telling her he’d never do that and the other was saying the proof is in the pudding. All Jude knew was that she was starting to get a headache.

“I didn’t say anything I swear,” he defended.

“I trusted you Xand!”

“I swear on my last blueberry scone I said nothing!” he said quickly, holding his hands in the air so she could see none of his fingers were crossed.

Jude knew then he was telling the truth. Not just from the uncrossed fingers or the fact he swore on his last blueberry scone, but from the earnest look shining through his eyes, that bled into his face. Guilt began to gnaw at her internal organs for assuming so quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to jump to con-“

“It’s fine,” he shrugged with no hint of offence, “don’t worry about it.”

“How do they know then?” Jude wondered aloud, confused.

Maybe they’d overheard one of her and Xander’s many conversation on this topic? Maybe she’d spoken in her sleep subconsciously? Maybe Grayson was a secret mindreader? She’d always suspected to last one anyway.

“Jude,” Xander sighed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, “has it ever occurred to you that you make it a teensy bit obvious?”

She giggled and shook her head, “I don’t make it obvious.”

He looked at her.

“Do I?” she murmured, anxiously.

“Let’s just say I think the only person who doesn’t know you like Jameson is Jameson,” Xander said slowly.

She stood still, paralysed, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could but as your best friend and newly appointed wingman-“ he paused to wink, “- I have to be honest with you.”

“This is so bad,” she groaned.

“Did you miss the part where I mentioned Jameson not knowing?”

“Of course he knows Xander!” she cried, “do you even know how perceptive he is!?”

“Not when it comes to girls, trust me.”

“I’ve messed everything up all over some stupid feelings for a stupid boy with really cute, get-lost-in-for-hours green eyes!” Jude said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You haven’t messed anything up, you’re overthinking entirely,” Xander soothed, putting an arm around her, “but can we keep fangirling over my brother to a minimum please, I do not need to hear that.”

“But you’re my wingman,” she teased, looking up at him.

“Touché Jude, touché,” he sighed.

“But fine I’ll keep it a minimum around you,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, “and I promise you Jameson has no idea you like him, trust me.”

She glanced over him sceptically, questioning his logic silently, as much as she did trust him, the signs pointed the other way.

“When have I ever let you down Jude? Have some faith in me,” he said.

He had a point. Xander had never let her down. Not in all the time she’d known him. No matter how big or small it was, he was by her side immediately. All his promises were kept, all the shared secrets, hidden.

“Okay then,” she told him, “I believe you.”

“Great,” he flashed her a grin, “now you go to bed whilst I go and work out phase one of mission:” he took a deep breath, “get-my-best-friend-and-brother-to-go-out-because-they’re-both-too-scared-to-make-the-first-move-which-is-totally-dumb- because-they’re-clearly-made-for-each-other.”

“Well that’s a bit of a mouthful,” Jude replied dryly.

“I shortened it to mission JJ,” Xander said, moving his hand across the air as if revealing a title.

Jude looked at him, head tilted to the side.

“Mission Jude and Jameson,” he clarified, “obviously,”

“Right…”

“Anyway I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” he said, “you need to get your beauty sleep.”

“Hey!” she yelled, whacking his arm, “and what happened to our movie night? There’s cold popped popcorn in that bowl for about six people.”

His eyes widened suddenly remembering their plans, “oh yeah.”

“And I made homemade brownies this afternoon per your request!” she said, “did I do that for nothing?”

“How could I forget!” he replied, “change of plans, movie night first, plotting mission JJ tomorrow.”

“I call first dibs on the movie,” Jude said before he could get there.

“No fair!” he whined.

“You snooze you lose Hawthorne,” she grinned, “besides I made the tray of brownies that were about to enjoy so surely I should get first pick.”

“But I’m your wingman,” Xander pouted, trying to win her over with the puppy dog eyes.

Luckily for Jude, she’d gotten good at resisting. It was certainly not an easy task, something about the pleading expression and longing face from his eyes reeled you in like a sirens song.

“Wingman shwingman,” she stuck her tongue out, “we’re watching ‘bones and all’.”

“No not this torture!” Xander protested, “not again! It’s like the fifth time this week!”

“Second actually,” she corrected him, grabbing the box of brownies, “and don’t lie, you secretly love it. “

“No I don’t,” he replied, “it’s disturbing Jude, utterly disturbing that you enjoy it.”

“It isn’t!”

“And you always cry at the end even when you know what coming,” he rolled his eyes, carrying the popcorn and drinks.

Jude gasped, “don’t judge me, you bawled it on Tuesday night!”

Xander didn’t look her in the eye and made his way to their movie room. Despite Hawthorne house making multiple movie theatres Jude and Xander had created their own. It had all begun when they were ten, making pillow forts and now it had become this. A large white screen sat towards the back of the room, a projector ready to play the movie. The room was adorned with fairy lights and was cozy and warm. The sofa was a mess of fluff and blankets, dozens of mismatched pillows and soft plushies sat there, waiting to be cuddled.

“Do you really want to cry again tonight?” Xander sighed, slumping down.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting beside him with a grin.

“Do you really want me to cry again tonight?” he asked, trying to play on her heartstrings.

“Brownies,” she sang, waving the box towards him, a little incentive went a long way with Xander.

He glared at her for all of two seconds before taking the box, grumbling, “fine.”

“See I knew you secretly loved this movie,” Jude beamed, pressing play.

“I do not but I love you and I love brownies so I’ll brace it,” Xander said, taking a bite.

“Good idea.”

***

The credits rolled across the screen, not that Jude could even read them, her eyes were too blurred with tears. How did it get her every time?

“It’s so beautiful,” she choked out.

No matter how many times she watched it, the feeling never got old.

“Don’t cry you’ll set me off too,” Xander said, clearly trying to keep it together, wide brown eyes glossy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t shed a tear at the halfway mark,” she exclaimed.

“I’m actually hardcore Judsicle,” he responded, “made soully of masculinity and weightlifting and football and…”

“And scones?” she raised a brow.

“Well of course I’m 98% scone,” he smiled.

“Naturally,” she grinned.

“Speaking of which you know what would be amazing,” Xander said.

The way he said amazing, made Jude question the next thing that might come out of his mouth, partly because she knew Xander so well it would be something utterly bizarre but equally wonderful that wouldn’t fail to surprise her.

“What?”

“If we cut a blueberry scone in half and put icecream in the middle,” he proposed.

“Like a scone icecream sandwich,” she asked.

“Exactly!” he clicked fingers, “that would be revolutionary.”

“I’ll stick to my brownies,” she laughed.

“Oooo ooo ooo,” he bounced excitedly, shaking her arm, “what if i sandwiched one of your brownies in a scone, now that would be-“

“Completely ruining a culinary masterpiece.”

Jude’s heart skipped a beat. It was only his voice that could do that to her. She shot a look at Xander that said ‘I thought he was out’ which Xander only shrugged in response to. Jude dared to look in Jameson’s direction and there he stood, loose tie, slightly messy hair, his top two buttons undone and blazer jacket slung over one shoulder. She noted the scratches on his patent shoes as well as the watch on his wrist which looked to be two minutes behind.

“Isn’t that right, Judy?” he grinned.

Butterflies attacked her stomach like an angry mob, hurling themselves at the walls. They fluttered around carelessly and bashfully. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from smiling right back like an idiot.

She glared at him instead, “don’t call me that.”

“Okay…” he paused, “…Judy.”

“You’re back early,” she commented, regretting saying the words as soon as they left her mouth.

Why was she being so obvious when she’d literally just lectured Xander in not being obvious? She knew she was going to replay this moment over and over tonight and drive herself mad over it.

“Got tired,” he shrugged.

Jude’s eyes fell over his attire again, scanning it for any clues. Jameson wasn’t one to leave places early, he liked a good party and a couple of drinks. But judging by his state he hadn’t had many, if any. Her eyes caught when they met his collar. A perfect red stain was printed on the white, a pair of round lips leaving their mark.

It felt like a punch in the gut, her heart just plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t think he liked her so why did it hurt so much to come to the realisation he actually didn’t. Why feel sad over something she hadn’t even lost?

Jameson caught her looking, his eyes growing wide with some sort of panic, “this isn’t what it looks like,” he rushed.

“I know you well enough now Jameson,” Jude laughed it off, burying the pain, “I’m not your mother, you won’t be in trouble for kissing a girl.”

“Like our mother would care,” Xander murmured.

She’d almost forgotten he was sat there, watching the whole thing play out. Tonight, Jude knew she’d definitely be asking him to analyse every detail of this conversation with her.

“Oh I didn’t kiss anyone tonight,” Jameson replied.

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head towards his shirt, “lipstick says otherwise.”

He sighed, “I spilt whiskey down my shirt after getting a little tipsy and it stained, shame really I liked that shirt, anyway some guy offered me a spare shirt, one catch was he’d worn it the previous night, I didn’t even notice the lipstick stains until I was on my way back.”

She stared at him blankly, betraying no emotion with her face.

“You don’t believe me,” Jameson said.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she replied, tilting her head to the side.

“That’s why it’s true,” he pressed on, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“Okay,” Jude said.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Jude smiled coyly.

Looking at his shirt now, it didn’t fit as well as his other ones. Usually Jameson’s clothes were expertly tailored to his body, this shirt hung too loose around his torso yet his arms made the fabric taut. All of the buttons were there, also uncommon for Jameson as he nearly always had one that was loose or had fallen off.

Still, leaving Jameson Hawthorne the mystery as to why she wouldn’t believe him was one thing that would surely play on his mind. And Jude wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of playing on his mind.

“Right I’m picking the next movie,” Xander announced, rushing to the movie box.

She groaned, “fine.”

“Don‘t give me that look I just sat through ‘bones and all’ for you,” he scowled.

“I love that movie,” Jameson grinned.

Jude look up at him, “you do?”

“I don’t,” Xander yelled from the corner.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I had no idea you liked it too.”

“Yeah I do,” she said.

“Maybe you two should watch it together sometime,” Xander said, plainly and simply, no weird signals or hidden messages, “it would save me from a few hours of torment.”

Jude smiled to herself. Maybe this wingman thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah maybe we should,” Jameson nodded.

Her heart leapt and began to race uncontrollably. He wanted to watch her favourite movie with her. She pinched herself just to make sure this moment was real.

“I’d be up for it,” she agreed.

“Soon then,” he said, “but now I have to go and shower, I don’t know what happened in this shirt and I don’t think I want to.”

She wrinkled her nose, “you should probably burn it after.”

He leant down, “you read my mind.”

Jude felt her cheeks burn.

“Enjoy your movie night,” he winked, “goodnight Judy.”

“Jude,” she snapped.

“Judy,” he sang, sauntering away.

She shook her head with a laugh and watched him until he was out of the door. Still, Xander and Jude were quiet until they were sure he was completely out of earshot.

“Well hello Mr and Mrs Flirty McFlirtison,” Xander exploded, bringing back the eyebrow wiggle.

“Xand!” she yelled, slapping his arm before burying her face into his shoulder to hide her blush.

“I mean I thought rom coms were bad but you two top that entirely,” he said.

“Oh shut it!” Jude tusked, “he wasn‘t even flirting.”

“Please,” he scoffed, “were we in the same room?”

“You’re totally making it out more than it is,” she rolled her eyes, “besides you saw the lipstick.”

“He explained it,” Xander defended.

“Likely story,” she sighed, sinking under a pile of blankets.

“You know it’s true, I saw you analysing,” he replied narrowing his eyes at her, “and usually I can always see through my brothers lying and my lie detector senses were not tingling.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not going to happen,” she said.

She needed to be real, honest with herself. The chances were slim, slimmer than slim. Maybe she could settle for just friends.

“Nu-uh I’ve started mission JJ now, it will be completed,” he replied a strong hard determination in his voice.

“Forget it Xand,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I have a talent for being annoyingly determined and persistent,” he sighed, “so sorry but no can do.”

She rolled her eyes, “what movie are we watching?”

He sensed the changed in subject and didn’t press her anymore. Another thing about Xander was his incredible ability to sense emotions and let things go when they needed to be let go.

“Finding Nemo,” he replied, “obviously.”

Jude looked at him for a moment. Time stood still and memories of their friendship played like a mini movie in her mind. Every movie night they’d had, every laugh they’d shared, every time he’d held her when she cried and every time she’d held him after his grandfather was horrible. Every moment, every second of her everything.

“Hey Xand,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I love you,” she beamed.

A large smile spread across his lips before he swiftly tackled her with a classic Xander hug.

“Love you too Jujubear,” he said, “now where are those brownies, I need to make my brownie-scone sandwich concoction: the scrownie as I like to call it.”

“Did you just make that name up now?” she asked him.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You,” she said, “are one of a kind.”

“Best way to be,” he poked his tongue out pressing play on the movie.

***

Jude woke up with her head on Xander’s stomach. His long limbs were sprawled out every which way. She almost laughed at the sight. Light streamed through the curtains, giving her a perfect view of the chaos. Pillow there, sweatshirt here, half eaten bowl of popcorn there, Xander’s sock here. She noticed someone had covered them both over with a blanket.

Slowly sitting up, she stretched out her stiff body before she covered Xander back over with another blanket. Jude sighed, wiping the sleep from her eyes before untangling a piece of popcorn from her hair. That must’ve been from the midnight popcorn war. She smiled to herself and glanced at the screen, the jungle book was playing quietly the background, though the last thing she remembered watching was little women.

Groggily, she stood up and despite stretching, her legs and hips still clicked. She made her way to the kitchen, craving a warm drink. As she walked in she hit something hard and stumbled back. Jude felt her stomach drop as she fell backwards, panic seizing her throat, keeping her from yelling out. Inches from the floor, a strong hand grasped the small of her back, saving Jude from what seemed to be an inevitable crash into the tiles beneath her. Reeling her upwards and setting her straight, she met the emerald eyes of her saviour.

“Good morning,” he smiled softly.

She just stared, unable to form a coherent sentence or even a simple thank you. Jameson Hawthorne was stood there, shirtless, his arm still around her waist. An electric feeling tingled deep within her chest, a spark of sorts. Their eyes clung to one another’s and for a moment everything stood still. The clock’s hands didn’t tick, the birdsong was silenced and their mouths didn’t breathe.

And then it passed. Then it was nothing again and she jerked away suddenly, realising where she was and who she was with. Her brain could only process one word as she stared. Abs. Abs. Abs.

“Holy cow!”

“Ouch,” he laughed, “I know it’s early but I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

The regret sunk in, she’d pulled away from his touch, his hands on her waist. She shook the feeling away.

“No you don’t look bad,” she rambled, “you look the opposite of bad, actually, which is good, which is an understatement, not that I think you look good good but I don’t think you don’t look good, but you just surprised me because-“

“Hey I was kidding,” Jameson chuckled, “do you want a coffee?”

Jude knew her cheeks were bright red before she felt the heat in them. She’d never felt so mortified in her life.

“Rather a green tea please,” she replied meekly.

He raised an eyebrow fetching two mugs, “I thought you were a coffee person?”

Jude’s heart palpitated as her stomach tied into yet another love knot. He remembered. Why did he remember? How did he remember? Had he noticed her always drinking coffee?

“I am…” she hesitated, “…well was, I’ve recently found a new love for green tea.”

“Nash got you into them didn’t he,” Jameson sighed.

She winced, “possibly.”

He wrinkled his nose, “that means I’ve lost another bet.”

“Bet?”

“I wagered,” he explained, “that Nash couldn’t convince another person green tea was actually good because it tastes like grass-“

“It doesn’t not!” she interrupted him, passionate for her cause.

He laughed, a sound melodic to her ears, “I seriously thought I had this one in the bag.”

“I can’t believe my love for green tea is now all part of a bet,” she sighed, resting her elbows of the counter to cup her face in her hands.

“Awww are you really surprised?” Jameson asked.

“Oddly enough,” she replied, “no.”

“Good,” he winked, sending a swarm of baby butterflies into her stomach, “now let me make you a nice cup of grass stew.”

She rolled her eyes, “it doesn’t tatse like grass.”

“Are you trying to convince me or you, Judy?”

“Shut up,” she groaned.

“How about, no?” he proposed with a smirk.

“You’re annoying,” she commented, jabbing him in the ribs.

He squirmed, ticklish there.

“No, I’m Jameson,” he poked his tongue out.

She laughed, tilting her head back a little as she did. From the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn his eyes were more fixated on her than the drinks he was supposed to be making,

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, turning on the coffee machine.

“Ish,” she shrugged, “Xander as a pillow did not work any wonders on my neck though. Did you sleep okay?”

“As well as I could,” he replied smoothly, “there was the occasional midnight wander.”

She grinned in reply, then swiftly changed the subject, “thanks for not letting me crack my head open on the floor.”

“No problem,” Jameson said, “it would’ve been a real hassle to clean up.”

“Glad you saved yourself the trouble,” she joked back.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “just watch where you’re going next time.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” she criticised.

He shook his head with a smile as he handed her a mug, “drink up your grass water.”

“It’s not grass water,” she snapped, her expression deadly serious.

“Keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it,” he responded, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Like how you keep telling yourself you’re actually funny,” she countered.

His eyebrows shot up, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and then back down. He cleared his throat, leaning down closer towards her, “you, Judy, are ruthless.”

“Don’t lie, you know you love it,” Jude teased, feeling a little bold.

“I do,” he said, not even denying it.

A golden hope blossomed in the left side of Jude’s chest. It burned with a fiery passion and glowed brighter with every little thing that happened between them. A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the two of them just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the presence of one another.

“I like those,” Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence.

So deep in her own thought Jude registered the comment later than she normally would’ve, “what?”

“Your pyjamas,” he cocked his head towards her pink pyjama set.

She almost choked on her green tea, looking down at her attire, “my pyjamas?”

He nodded, “they’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Is this a repetition game?” he deadpanned.

“No, sorry,” she laughed, “thanks.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It was horrendous Xander!” Jude exclaimed, on their walk, the air crisp and cold.

All the trees had shed their leaves, looking naked and icy on the pale winters day. Bleached of colour, a small layer of ice slush that you could just about call snow, lay on the ground. It was so bitter that you could feel the cold biting through your coat, tinting the tops of your ears and cheeks and nose with a warm red. Winter walks were a necessity to Jude, but on this one she needed to rant as well.

She’d finally managed to drag Xander from his slumber after many different tactics. Blasting alarm bell sound effects through speakers, pillow attacks and the good old temptation of food. Eventually she’d coaxed him out of the house to go on a walk to discuss the events of the morning. She explain everything to him in the exact detail she remembered it in, each part sounding worse and worse as she said it out loud.

“It doesn’t sound that bad,” Xander replied, pulling on his gloves after his hands had gotten too bored of sitting in his pockets.

“Ughhh and it was so embarrassing,” she groaned, “no, scratch that, it was mortifying!”

“You’re overthinking it,” he sighed putting an arm around her, “you have a tendency to do that.”

“Overthinking!” she exclaimed, “how is this overthinking?”

“Maybe he didn’t think anything of it,” Xander suggested.

“I can’t work out whether that’s better or worse,” Jude sighed.

If he didn’t think anything of it then it meant the moment he seen her and then caught her had meant nothing he if he did it meant she’d made an idiot of herself.

“Look I’m sure it’s fine,” he soothed.

“Easy for you to say,” she scoffed, “you didn’t humiliate yourself.”

“You didn’t humiliate yourself,” he sighed.

“I basically told him he looked good shirtless!” Jude said, with a dismal look.

“Hey you finally made a move,” Xander chuckled, attempting to get her to lighten up.

“Not funny Xand,” Jude deadpanned, “I hate the world.”

“No you don’t,” he laughed, pulling her closer into him.

“This is my second caffeine hit today!” she pointed out, waving her coffee cup in his face.

“Yeesh,” he coughed, “you’re really going through it.”

“It isn’t a joke Xand!” she said, “I just want the ground to just swallow me whole.”

“I know and it sucks,” he sighed, “but I have an idea.”

“Is this a Xander idea?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re going to do something to take your mind off of things?”

Jude furrowed her eyebrows, “like what?”

“How do you feel about a game of laser tag?”

***

“This looks questionable,” Jude murmured as Xander handed her a light up laser tag vest.

“Don’t you trust me Judesicle,” he tilted his head to the side.

She sighed, pulling the vest on, “to an extent.”

“Good enough,” he shrugged, moving to her side to tighten the straps.

Their roles reversed as Xander slipped his vest on and Jude helped him do his straps tight enough. He went through the basic rules of the game and how to work everything as well as showing her around the area so he didn’t have such an advantage. Of course, he’d played many times with his brothers so he had an advantage there but Jude was ready. She had too much feeling to not be.

“There’s me and you and of course the simulations of extra people that you can shoot or get shot by,” Xander finished his explanation, “there are three, one blue, one green and one red.”

“Perfect,” she nodded, having had absorbed nearly every word.

“See you on the other side old friend,” he nodded, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Does this game entail death,” she asked.

“No but it sounded like a cool line to drop right about now,” Xander’s face broke out into a grin.

“Okay, let’s get this started,” she said.

Jude shook his hand with a grin before they walked in opposite directions. The question was where to start. She wanted to be hidden and even though she was familiar with the place, Xander knew it back to front was an obvious hiding place was pretty much out of the question.

She eventually chose a flat, unassuming wall and pressed her back up against it, holding her laser gun waiting for the sound to tell her the game had begun. A sharp, crisp whistle like sound screamed through the empty air and the game had begun.

***

Jude’s face was red and her face sleeked with sweat, she was also a little breathless. She’d managed to hit the other players quite successfully gaining her some points but she’d also lost some from being shot herself. Breathing heavily she’d found a corner to hide in, waiting for someone to pass to shoot them.

As soon as she heard footsteps she knew it was Xander. He was also heaving, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible as he continued to run. Jude readied her gun and with one swift, well-timed pull of the trigger, Xander’s white light dulled to nothing. Xander looked up confused, until he saw Jude and screamed.

“Way to give a man a heart attack!” he yelled.

“It’s called tactics,” she winked, running off before his vest came back on and he could shoot again.

She ran across an opening, always a dangerous thing, but lucky for her, her lights still remained on. She made her way down a narrow pathway and twisted through walls and bends when she realised something. She looked down as her pink lights faded. Confused she looked around, getting a start when she saw Xander not three feet behind her, blowing the end of his gun as if it were a pistol.

“Did you follow me?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t prefer to say I tracked you,” he shrugged.

“How? I ran across the opening and no one followed,” she said.

“It was a combination of an epic floor roll,” he explained, “and very silent feet.”

The minute was up, her lights came back on, so she took the opportunity to shot first.

“Hey!” Xander yelled as she sprinted off, “you can’t distract me with conversation to beat me!”

“You snooze, you lose Xand,” she yelled back, running off.

She didn’t hear his reply if he did respond, she was too far away. Suddenly her lights faded again and in the corner of her eye she saw the blue simulation. She sighed, the whole game that blue one had been catching her out. She ran towards another set of jagged pathways with walls parallel to each other and slipped between them carefully, eyes on her target. The red simulation. Once her lights were back on she aimed.

Suddenly she saw a flicker of green approaching and knew she had to make a run for it. Mid-movement, she shot off the red, then turned to the green and managed to get it too. She noticed Xander trying to hide behind a wall so expertly aimed her laser gun around the corner to hit him too. The only one left was the blue simulation, but she wanted to hit it before the other’s lights came back on.

Her eyes darted from left to right until she caught it. The simulation seemingly sprinted down a different corridor, so Jude followed. Fearlessly running, she didn’t take long to catch up to the blue programmed player, and took even less time to shoot him. With a satisfactory smile, she watched as the lights dimmed and turned back to the other way to continue playing. She found Xander mid laser war with the green simulation. Dodging and shooting, dodging and-

A sound roared over all the chaos signalling the game was over. Breathless, Jude and Xander made their way to the exit and the simulations disappeared into thin air.

“Who knew laser tag could take it out of you huh?” Jude panted, taking her light up vest off.

“Daily workout checked off of my to do list,” Xander agreed.

Her eyebrows shot up, “you have a to do list.”

“Nope I have a scrambled mind full of things I’ve had to do in the past that occasionally come back to bite me,” he responded.

“I need to buy you a notebook,” she told him.

“Too conventional for my liking,” he wrinkled his nose.

“What if it played music whenever you opened it?” She proposed.

“I’m more intrigued now I must say,” he mused, making Jude laugh.

“So who won?” she asked him, shrugging off her gear.

“You,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed up to the point board, “you’re a natural.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” she laughed.

“Beat me and it’s your first go ever,” Xander shrugged, then his eyes sparkled, “I want to see you against Gray!”

“And risk my life?” she scoffed, “yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on Jude,” he sighed, “where’s your Hawthorne spirit?”

“I ran it over when you mentioned the possibility of competing against Grayson the Destroyer,” she replied smoothly.

“I forgot we nicknamed him that,” Xander contemplated wistfully.

“I’m still not over the scrabble incident,” she said, the game they had given him the nickname in.

“I’ll rope you into it one day,” he decided.

“Have fun trying,” she said with a stubborn smile.

“Race you back to the house!” Xander suddenly exclaimed.

“What?”

“Go!”

He took off before she even

“Hey!” Jude yelled, “get back here you cheat!”

And then she started sprinting.

***

She still beat Xander in the race, catching up to him easily. He was right, laser tag had been a good distraction, but what now? Now showered and in a fresh set of clothes Jude retreated to her favourite of the libraries in the house for a bit of quiet.

She needed some peace with her own mind and thoughts. Halfway through the second paragraph of the page, Nash sauntered in hands in his pockets and cowboy hat tilted forwards. Jude looked up to meet him, something about his eyes looked sad and hollow. That made her feel a little sad and hollow.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He sat down across from her, “you look tired.”

“Xander managed to get me to play three round of laser tag,” she replied, with a small yawn, “that might have something do with it.”

He chuckled softly, “only our Xand.”

Pain flickered across his face for the fraction of a second, if Jude had blinked, she would’ve missed it. She hummed in reply to his comment, eyes flicking between him and the page of her book.

She paused and shut the book, “are you okay Nash?”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, hoarsely, like something had caught in his throat.

“Are you sure?” Jude pressed on.

Nash nodded, “of course I am.”

He wasn’t. Everyone knew it. Ever since his break up with Alisa he’d been a mess. Obviously no one saw what a mess he was but they could feel it. It didn’t feel like Nash was walking into a room, rather a mass of mixed up emotions.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “were you looking for someone?”

“Not in particular,” he shrugged, “I like this library.”

“Me too,” she replied quietly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Nash surveyed the book shelves, his fingers running down spines of well loved books until the right one caught his eye.

“Try this,” he said, handing Jude a book.

She looked down, Amerika by Franz Kafka. Slowly she took the book from his hands and traced her hands across the cover.

“I believe it’s one of his first books,” Nash said, “you’ll like it trust me.”

“How do you know?” she wondered aloud.

“Because I have a tendency to observe people and based on previous reads,” he responded, “you’ll like this one.”

“Why’ve you been keeping such a close eye on me?” she raised her eyebrows looking at his quizzically.

“You’re my little sister at heart,” Nash told her softly, “how could I not?”

Jude’s heart squeezed. She’d always seen Nash as a role model, an older brother, but she’d never expected him to think the same of her.

“Thanks Nash,” she smiled.

“Don’t thank me kid,” he said, grabbing a book with an emerald cover and sitting in a leather armchair.

After a while she felt Nash’s eyes on her and looked up.

“What’s the question that you’re burning to ask me?” she shut her book, “just ask it.”

He sighed and paused for a long thoughtful while, “I’ll cut to the chase. Are you and Jamie a thing?”

“What? No!” Jude exclaimed quickly, too quickly, too defensively “I mean no, we’re just friends, just friends.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.

“Just friends,” she clarified.

He raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned.”

“You and Alisa broke up,” she blurted out, every compassionate, apologetic sentence she’d wanted to start with slipping through her finger faster than water.

“I know,” Nash said quietly, “I was sort of there.”

“Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Thanks kid,” he nodded sharply, inhaling unevenly.

Jude groaned and put her head in her hands, “that came out all wrong.”

“I figured,” Nash responded, cracking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She sighed. She knew she had to ask. She had a feeling she also knew the answer. As she looked him in the eye, he predicted what she was going to say, yet still let her ask.

“Are you leaving again?”

“For a bit,” he murmured, looking at his cowboy boots, “yeah, need space, air, these place suffocates me too much, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jude mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” he said sadly before he paused for a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Take care of him for me, okay?” Jude knew in an instant, he was talking about Jameson, “all of them.”

“Of course,” she said softly.

He took her small hands and clasped them between his calloused ones. Nash looked her in the eye as he told her, “you’re the strongest one of us, kid.”

“Nash,” she murmured, tears welling up, “will you ever come back?”

“I always come back,” he promised silently.

“So did you really come here to say goodbye?” Jude said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Yes and no,” he replied, as confusing as ever, as Hawthorne as ever.

“Bye Nash,” she whispered, her voice barely a sound.

“Goodbye J,” Nash said, pulling her into his arms, “I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” she murmured into his chest, inhaling his scent for the last time, she realised, in a while probably.

Nash was a constant, in a sea of madness, he was the rock that refused to erode. And now he was leaving because if he stayed he would break. He’d rather be broken far away and come back fixed than break here. Jude knew that. She wished she didn’t understand. Then she could be mad and this whole goodbye would be easier. But Jude had never been at goodbyes.

“Not possible, kid,” he said tenderly, kissing the top of her head.

He let her go, before squeezing her shoulders. With one final very cowboy nod, he began to walk away and she watched him with glossy eyes and a full heart.

“Oh and Jude,” he said spinning around.

“Yeah?”

“By the time I’m back you two better be going out,” Nash winked.

“Nash we’re just-“

“Friends,” he murmured, “I know.”

Then he left.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

She’d watched as the motorbike had pulled out of Hawthorne House and driven down the rode. She’d watched as he’d paused at the gate to take on final look behind. She’d watched as Nash, with a single bag and his cowboy hat had left. This was gong to be hard on all of the brothers, Jude knew that as well as anyone.

But still, the next day, a sadness weighed on her own chest. Nash was gone and might be for a while. The reality only just seemed to be sinking in. She slowly focused her attention to her book, not the one Nash recommended her but another. She wanted to save that one for when she needed Nash, so it would remind her of him.

“What you reading?”

It made her jump but she suppressed any reaction. She didn’t expect anyone to be there but she knew to voice all too well. It sent a tingle down her spine.

“A book,” she replied, not tearing her eyes from its contents.

“What book?” Jameson said from behind her.

“The metamorphosis,” she told him, closing it to reveal the cover.

“Franz Kafka?” He asked, walking around to sit next to her.

Her eyes lit up suddenly, “you’ve read it?”

“You sound surprised,” he laughed.

“Not surprised,” she said, “just shocked.”

“That’s a synonym of surprised,” he teased, ruffling the hair on the top of her head.

“Excited then,” she corrected, pushing his hand away, “now I have someone to talk about it to.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, an overcast of seriousness shadowing his expression, “Nash recommended him to me too.”

“How did you…” she trailed off, “why are you back so late anyway?”

“Detention,” Jameson replied.

Jude wasn’t exactly surprised that Jameson had gotten a detention, it wasn’t uncommon. She was more surprised that he actually went, something was up.

“You never go to your detentions,” she murmured, slowly pressing him to reveal what he was hiding.

He shrugged his shoulders, his face betraying nothing of his feelings, “I felt like it.”

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked softly, touching the top of his arm.

He looked down to her fingers, “what do you mean?”

He tried to play it off as if it meant nothing but she’d known him too long to fall for it.

“There’s something on your mind,” she said quietly, looking into his hurt green eyes.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, some note in his voice a little strained, almost hoarse.

“A few things,” she replied.

“What things?”

Jude raised an eyebrow, “you want the list?”

“Desperately,” he replied, the ghost of a smile tingling on his lips .

“Well, if you must know, your stance is different your weight was more forwards it’s usually slightly more upright, but when something bothers you, you hunch over in the slightest way. You keep fiddling with things, your own hands, the cushion, my hair, the hem of your shirt. Your focus is shifting from anything but your problem and you keep making mindless conversation with me to distract yourself, but it’s not working. You never go to your detentions and suddenly you turn up to one and…” she paused wondering if she should say it aloud, then channelled her inner Xander and recalled his life motto: yolo, “…and your eyes looked sad, hollow almost, it’s hard to explain, they just looked like you were in pain.”

“Very observant of you Judy,” he said, eyes pinned to hers, almost captivated by something. He was trying to keep up his usual banter but it wasn’t getting past her. She knew him too well.

She didn’t tell him not to call her Judy, like he wanted her to. Instead she got straight to the point. No more distractions, no more detours, it was time to face the truth.

“It’s about Nash isn’t it,” she sighed.

“That obvious,” he mumbled, forcing a small chuckle to push down the wave of pain.

“It was an educated guess,” she murmured, trying to make him feel a little better. That was a lie. She could see it on his face but he didn’t have to know that.

“It feels like I’ve lost a piece of myself without him you know,” he admitted, finding the material of the sofa far more interesting than looking directly at Jude for the moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, letting him continue.

“You can’t build a house without a foundation, it’ll collapse,” he sniffed, “and Nash is our foundation.”

“And he still is,” she reassured him, slowly interlocking her fingers into his, “just from a distance now.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, gripping her tightly in need of the comfort.

“You think if you needed him he wouldn’t be back in a heartbeat?” Jude asked.

“I know he would but I don’t know…” he trailed off, lost in a world of his own thoughts, “…I just hate it when he leaves.”

“He’s going through something,” she said, “he needs time.”

“I know,” Jameson muttered.

“And he doesn’t handle it like you or Gray or Xand,” she continued, “he handles it like this.”

“I wish he didn’t,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Do you?” Jude said softly, “wouldn’t it be more chaotic if he got reckless like you or shut down like Gray, hid it with a smile like Xand,” she sighed, “Nash knows how to manage his feelings, he needs to feel freer, this house hasn’t exactly always been a home to him.”

“You’re right,” he said quietly.

Jameson wasn’t one to admit that easily. Jude knew that. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes speaking volumes to him in the silence. She tried to read his face.

“But you’re still doubting something,” she picked up, almost immediately.

“How can you tell?” he asked, worming his way around the question first before answering it.

“I can just see,” she shrugged.

“I’m…” he trailed off, the words lodged in his throat. He didn’t want to say them out loud, it made them more real.

Jude waited silently until he was ready, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m scared he won’t come back,” Jameson finally said.

“He will come back,” Jude replied, her voice strong and sure, “he always comes back.”

“What if he doesn’t this time?” he asked, worry lines rippling across his face.

It almost scared Jude. She wasn’t used to seeing him so vulnerable, so emotional. It had shocked her he hadn’t done something utterly reckless yet, like sky diving or bungee jumping. Usually it would’ve happened by now, but instead he was here, with her, actually talking out his problems. What did that mean?

“You know Nash better than I do,” Jude said slowly, “you know in your heart he’s coming back, just like I do.”

“There’s always that bit of fear in me though, the dreaded ‘what if’ he decides not to,” Jameson replied.

“He wouldn’t abandon you Jamie,” she soothed, the nickname rolling off of her tongue naturally, “he loves you.”

Just like I do, she thought, but the words didn’t dare near her lips.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After talking to Jameson, Jude had checked on Xander who was also down about Nash leaving. He wasn’t in the mood for much. Seeing Xander so sad made Jude sad too. He wouldn’t even eat a scone which got to Jude the most. Eventually after a lot of coaxing and scone concoctions, she managed to get him to have one but usually it was a given he would.

It was strange. The whole thing. Hawthorne house was deadened without Nash, all the brothers had retreated to themselves and gone quiet. Grayson had disappeared to the music room playing emotional pieces on his violin, Jude felt it was best not to interrupt him in that state. He hadn’t come out in hours and the violin hadn’t stopped once. She wondered if his fingers were bleeding, so left him some food and water and a packet of bandaids outside the door, just in case.

The next morning she set her alarm to wake up early. She had a netball match, first thing. Part of her didn’t want to leave the brothers on their own but she realised she could only do so much when she was at the house anyway.

She figured they might want time to themselves or time to talk with one another about the situation. So she decided to play in her match. After a soothing, long shower, she did her morning skin care before slipping on her netball dress. She walked back into her bedroom standing infront of the mirror to begin on her hair.

***

Jude groaned in frustration, starting the braid again for the fifth time. Why wasn’t it working this morning? Of course it just had to go wrong the day she actually needed it braided out of the way.

“Let me braid it.”

She gasped softly upon seeing Jameson leaning in her doorway, silently watching her.

“What?”

“Let me braid it,” he repeated. She couldn’t detect any hints that he was joking about the prospect.

“How long have you been standing there?” she countered.

“Not long,” Jameson shrugged.

“That’s a little creepy,” she told him, looking back to the mirror as she ran her finger through her wavy hair.

“Well how else am I going to keep you on your toes,” he winked, “now are you going to let me braid your hair?”

“You know how to braid hair?” she folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows.

“I have a lot of free time,” he shrugged.

“You’re surprising me more and more every day Jameson Hawthorne,” she smiled gently.

With a smirk he stepped in towards her back, “well what else am I here for?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his reflection in the mirror stood in front of them both even when his breath tickled her neck.

“French or Dutch?”

She spun around to face him suddenly, “are you serious?”

He gave her a confused look.

“You know how to French and Dutch braid hair,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, “it’s like a pattern, a puzzle, something to solve.”

“Okay then,” she thought for a minute, “french.”

“Turn around then Judy,” he said, raising her arm above her head and spinning her around as if she were a ballerina.

“Jude,” she hissed, glaring at the mirror so he could see the reflection.

“Hairbrush,” he said.

“Is that a new nickname?” she batted her eyelashes, “very cute.”

“No, I need the hairbrush,” he rolled his eyes, holding his hand out.

She passed it to him before he gently picked up a piece of hair and began to brush it from bottom up. He took each and every section and handled it with the upmost care, like each stand of hair was made of glass.

“Your hair is really soft,” he commented, after he’d finished brushing it through.

She felt the heat rise in her cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, “you might want to sit down for the actual braiding part.”

She nodded and took a seat on the floor, just below her bed. He sat behind her and slowly began to pick up the first bits of hair needed. Carefully and neatly he twisted the pieces into place. Jude could feel that he was doing it exactly right, adding the right sections at the right times. She’d never thought of a braid a puzzle before, but now she supposed it was. The twists and turns of intricacy, one wrong move and the whole thing would lose its effect.

It was so relaxing for Jude, for someone else to do her hair. It was a nice change from her arms burning and her head aching every morning. Best thing was, Jameson knew exactly what he was doing and he was someone making it comfortable for her head. Usually she’d pull one strand too hard and it’d give her a headache but that hadn’t happened so far.

“Do you have a hair tie?” he asked, once he’d gotten to the bottom.

She passed him the one from around her wrist, before grabbing the ribbons on her team colours.

“Could you tie these in the bottom too?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, taking them and putting them into the bottom of the braid, “okay go and see if you like it, I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

She grinned walking into her mirror to admire the plait. It was near on perfect and it looked so much better than her five previous attempts put together. She walked back towards him.

“It’s amazing thank you so much!” she smiled, instinctively wrapping her arms around him to give a grateful hug without actually realising what she was doing.

Though when she did, she didn’t pull away.

“Careful,” he rushed, “we haven’t hair-sprayed it.”

“Is Grayson rubbing off on you?” Jude teased, with a giggle.

“Don’t insult me,” he deadpanned, “I just did your hair.”

“My humblest apologies,” she bowed, mockingly.

“Gratefully accepted,” he nodded at her, grabbing the hairspray bottle, “right, close your eyes.”

She did as he said before he sprayed her hair so it stayed in, setting his masterpiece in stone before she washed it out later.

“Perfect,” he smiled, as she opened her eye again, “you look perfect.”

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he coughed, “I meant your hair.”

Something sunk, it just plummeted right into her stomach. She felt heavy with disappointment and mentally scolded herself for it.

“Are you only saying that because you can credit yourself?” she played it off as a joke to mask her true feelings.

“Possibly,” Jameson replied, his face slowly breaking out into a grin.

She laughed sideglancing at the clock, “I need to make sure I’ve got everything before I leave, I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come to your game?” he asked suddenly.

She stopped mid step and spun around.

“You want to?” she said.

“Of course I do,” Jameson replied, as if it were an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly, “sure.”

He’d seen her play before, just not recently. Something about that made Jude nervous but more driven to win, not just for herself and her team but to make Jameson proud too.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

She laughed melodically, “you are such a gentleman.”

“What can I say Judy,” he replied with a wink, stepping closer to her.

“Jude,” she corrected him, stepping in as well.

“Judy,” he smirked back.

“Jude.”

“Judy.”

“You won’t win,” she whispered, fierceness in her eyes.

“Try me,” he murmurs back, mischief in his.

Their faces were so close, that their noses almost touched. His eyes looked down at her lips and flicked back up again. Before she knew it they were both leaning in. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, screaming to be heard. Was this moment really what she thought it was?

“We should go,” Jude cleared her throat, pulling away, “don’t want to be late,”

“Yeah,” Jameson nodded slowly, picking up her bags for her.

And Jude could’ve sworn his cheeks were suddenly a little rosy.

***

Jude cursed herself for pulling away and for the whole journey thought about what could’ve been. However when she got to the venue she had to put all those thoughts aside to play.

The match went well, better than well actually, her team won and her play was excellent. After she’d said goodbye to her teammates she met Jameson who enveloped her into a hug, picking her up and spinning her around, telling her how amazingly she’d played. Jude can’t remember a time where she’d felt more special. He always made her feel like she was the brightest star in an ebony sky.

On the car ride home, the two of them just discussed her game and he let her rant about all the things she felt she could’ve done better before he pointed out some of things she’d done excellently. By the time they got back to Hawthorne House, they’d pretty much dissected the whole game about a thousand times over. But Jude didn’t mind and from the smile of his face, neither did Jameson.

As soon as they got in the two of them went straight to the freezer to grab a well-deserved ice pop.

“Icepop berry for mon chérie,” he winked, with the most awful French accent Jude had ever heard.

She physically cringed, taking it from his hand, “that one was horrible, please never say that again.”

“It sounded better in my head,” he sighed, grabbing a blue raspberry one for himself.

“You butchered that accent,” she snorted.

“Leave me alone,” he complained.

“Hey you’re back! How was your game,” Xander asked walking in.

“Good,” Jude nodded with a smile.

“Good is an understatement,” Jameson scoffed, “Judy played amazingly.”

“It wasn’t that good,” she rolled her eyes, he made her sound like some kind of netball prodigy.

“Xand she was lightning fast,” he explained.

“I bet,” Xander grinned, helping himself to a cola ice pop.

“And her interceptions were killer!” he added.

“Not really,” Jude interjected.

“Passes were legendary,” Jameson just continued.

“He’s over exaggerating,” she rolled her eyes, “surprise, surprise.”

“The best wing attack to ever exist,” he said.

“Okay, that is a stretch now,” she laughed.

“You’re too modest,” he replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Her face glowed as she felt an electrical jolt when he touched her, a spark of sorts. She wondered if he’s felt it too, but if he had, he didn’t show it.

“We should celebrate,” Xander announced.

“I agree,” he nodded.

“Oh but would you look at the time!” His brother continued, eyeballing his watch as if he’d never seen it before, “I haven’t blown anything up yet today, off I go.”

Xander practically skipped out of the kitchen door, though just before he turned he snuck Jude a wink to which she almost face palmed right there and then.

“Just us then, I guess,” Jameson said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, eating some more of her ice pop that was slowly melting in her hands. It made her feel like a little girl again.

He looked down at her, staring for a little bit as his lips parted slightly, “want to go somewhere?”

“That depends,” she smiled playfully, “where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, “get changed and meet me down here in half an hour.”

“That smirk is saying all the wrong things to me,” she replied, “what are you planning Jameson Hawthorne?”

He shrugged and with a wink, left.