femininomenom

it wasn’t like you were proud of the little situation you had gotten yourself into, messing around with the schools biggest fuck boy wasn’t exactly your greatest accomplishment, nor was it on brand for you. besides, accomplishment was a big word considering how many other girls had also accomplished just about the same thing.

you were the typical ‘head in a book’ type of girl, always focussed on your grades and making sure you were making your parents proud. a boy climbing through your window at 11.30 at night wasn’t exactly something you would’ve expected in your life. at any point.

“your house is a fucking pain to get into.” chris huffs, climbing into your room clumsily.

“maybe that's because you're climbing up a two story building, and using a window.” you retort from your position at your desk, not moving or even glancing his way as you speak, focussed on the work infront of you.

“well maybe, you should let me in through the front door.” he remarks back, slightly annoyed about the way he has to come in. he shuts the window behind him, fiddling with the curtain as it gets caught.

you turn in your seat, frowning as you watch him struggle slightly. he then gives up, turning round to meet your gaze, a nonchalant expression on his face as he tries to act like he didn’t just fuck up the curtain slightly. “it's just uh-” he looks down at the caught fabric. “it’s fine-”

“leave it chris.” you sigh, resisting from rolling your eyes. “yeah ok.” he huffs, slightly embarrassed as he moves to sit on the bed, looking around your room observantly. he'd been in here a few times now, some encounters in the evening, others after school when your dad wasn’t home yet.

you get up, opening the window enough to fix the stuck curtain before you close it again, turning to look at chris with an unamused expression. you then go to saunter back to your desk, hoping to reside in your homework.

he catches you by the hip as you move past him. “why don't you take a break?” he asks softly, the suggestion heavy in his voice.

“chris, c’mon.” you huff, making a small attempt to move away from him despite the firm grip he has on you, holding you in place. you look down at him, a slightly pleading expression on his face. “don't look at me like that.” you grumble, removing his hand from your hip so that you could move out of his grasp. “we have a bio exam tomorrow- if anything you should be revising.” you say in an almost accusatory tone as you make your way back to your desk.

he scoffs dismissively, falling back on the bed as soon as you move away. “for all you know i've been revising.” he retorts, his tone slightly sassy.

“have you revised?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you flick through your textbook, looking for a specific page.

there's a silence between you as soon as the question leaves your mouth. “no.” he mumbles in response, preoccupying himself by fiddling with the tassels of the blanket on your bed.

you smile to yourself, although you knew the answer before you’d even asked the question. he takes note of your cocky expression, sitting up on the bed with a frown on his face. “so what if i haven't?” he huffs. “school isn't everything y’know?” he mumbles, obviously taking a little dig at you.

you ignore his little comment, focussing back on your work. furiously writing notes as your eyes scan over the copious amounts of reading. “can you like, not ignore me?” he says, the frown still evident in his slightly annoyed mood.

“m’not.” you hum, although your attention suggests otherwise.

“then why aren't you speaking t’me?” he huffs, feeling bored and annoyed. “because you haven't said anything to me.” you respond softly, your eyes still fixed on your work.

“yeah, because i feel like i’m talking to a fucking wall.” he huffs, clearly frustrated with your undivided attention towards your work. yet again you don’t respond. he groans in annoyance. “seriously, what the fuck.” he complains, throwing his arms up.

“what?” you giggle slightly at his frustrated tone, this time turning to look at him, sitting on the bed looking all grumpy. “don't get your panties in a twist.” you mock, playing with the pen in your hand.

“i'm not-.” he huffs, not even wanting to repeat your words. “just want you.” he mumbles, looking all gloomy and sad.

the words make your stomach flutter, but you ignore the feeling for better judgement. “give me five minutes, and i promise i'll come hang out with you.” your words turning into a mocking baby voice as you swivel on your seat to face your desk again.

“can you like, not do that.” he grumbles, frowning over at you. “nope.” you respond with a pop, fiddling with your pen as you read over your work.

chris lets out a sigh, falling back onto the bed to look up at the ceiling. there's a silence in the room as you concentrate on your homework and he lays there, staring up at the ceiling while fiddling with the drawstrings of his black hoodie.

“can the five minutes be done now?” he asks, clearly getting bored of waiting. you roll your eyes, finishing up before putting your pen down. you stack some of your books, making specific piles for organisation.

he leans up, holding his weight with his elbows. he watches as you particularly organises your shit. he finds it fascinating. you bring over a stack to your bag that's on the floor at the end of your bed. “the fuck you doin?” he questioned, his brows furrowing and his mouth tugged into a small smile. mostly of amusement.

“packing my bag for tomorrow.” you respond as you put all your stuff into the bag a certain way. he shakes his head slightly. “are you just trying to waste my time?” he questions.

“no.” you stifle a small laugh as you continue to basically tidy your room. he leans over, lying on his side now so that he can observe you. “what?” you question innocently, looking up at him. “m’not.” you mumble, going back to what you were doing.

“can you get up here.” he huffs, fed up of waiting. you nod a little, continuing your task. “c’mon.” he mumbles, getting antsy with you. “m’already hard.” he says, almost too quietly for you to hear.

you roll your eyes at his words, a smile of disbelief on your face. “how?” you question, shaking your head slightly as you zip up your bag.

“from watchin you prance around in your sexy pyjamas.” he mumbles, his gaze very obviously hazy with lust.

“well that's a you problem because these aren't even sexy pyjamas.” you say matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow at him as you stand up to face him.

he shifts to sit up, a frown on his face. “what d’you mean ‘aren’t sexy’?” he questions, running his hands over the side of your hips. “chris.” you tilt your head, looking down at him. he looks over your outfit, a grey vest and some low waisted navy bottoms that curved over your ass perfectly.

“okay, they ain’t lingerie- but still.” he admits before his hand travels to squeeze your ass. clearly a motion to support his point.

the movement brings you closer so you’re now stood between his parted legs, your hand on his shoulders to hold your weight upright. he grins up at you, his hand shifting to your lower back to pull you even closer. “c’mon, y’know you look sexy.”

you smile, unable to hide the effects of his compliment. but you shake your head in disagreement, closing your eyes for a second.

he makes a fake shocked face as his other arm wraps around you to bring her closer, their faces almost touching as you let yourself lean down. “you're crazy.” he mutters before pressing his lips onto yours.

as soon as your lips connect, it's a domino effect of your bodies getting impossibly closer. he lies back on the bed, bringing you with him. with your body on top of his, you shift to comfortably straddle his lap all whilst you kiss.

one of his hands travels up to cup your face, while the other stalls at your lower back, feeling the soft exposed skin.

you continue to kiss like you always did, the both of you comfortable and confident like this. your hands are either side of his head, keeping you up. eventually he slides his own hand from your lower back up to your shoulder, before going down your arm to gently wrap around your wrist. you take the hint and remove the weight off your arms to move your hands to cup his face.

he adapts to the new position, now both of his hands going to your lower back. he's hesitant to grab your ass, not because he never does or because it's too much, but rather because he'd end up pushing your hips down to grind into him, and he didn’t wanna push you to do that.

instead he keeps his hands on your bare skin, waiting for you to grind your hips against his. you pull away slightly, catching your breath as one of your hands travels up to rake through his hair.

“have you got a new aftershave?” you ask curiously.

chris gives you a funny look. “you stopped kissing me to ask that?” he says judgmentally. you shrug, sitting up slightly to put some space between your bodies waist up. “no. i stopped to breathe.” you say, catching your breath as you spoke.

“your staminas bad.” he comments with a lazy smile, looking up at you, his hands resting comfortably on your upper thigh. “no.” you frown, shutting down the accusation. “your face was squashing my nose.”

he grins, sitting up so that you’re face to face again. “my face was squashing your nose?” he repeats with a questioning look and a sly grin. “yeah. it was.” you say back, a stern look on your face.

“oh really?” he raises his eyebrows, nodding as he speaks. “it was squashing you-yeah.” as he speaks he moves closer, his voice fading to a whisper as he goes back in to kiss you desperately.

in this new position your hands travel up to his hair, pulling at the strands. he lets out soft grunts between kisses. you knew he loved it.

in the motion of kissing chris, you begin to move your hips back and forth, a slow pace, almost torturous for him. that's until his hands finally find their way to your ass, squeezing the flesh through your pyjamas before he gently pushes you to grind into him harder.

your mouth falls open, a mix between a gasp and a whine falling from your lips. “they're really thin.” you whisper, looking down at your pyjamas. he follows your gaze, realising. “does it feel good?” he asks, his voice hoarse as his eyes meet yours. you nod, and he goes back to kissing you instantly, his hands never leaving their position on your ass.

you let out soft breathy moans between kisses, your thin pyjamas allowing you to feel his rough jeans against your heat, as well as the faint hardness of his dick underneath.

his lips leave yours, making a trail across your jaw and down your neck, sucking on the skin in order to find a sweet spot. “don't leave any marks chris.” you whisper, although it comes out as more of a whine. “i won't.” he mumbles against your skin, never taking his lips away.

his grip on your ass softens as he notices the way you’re grinding against him at your own accord. so he lets his hands trail up your sides softly, grazing the small slither of skin between the bottom of your top, and the top of your bottoms.

one of his hands slips under your top, his fingers dancing across your rib cage before his thumb traces your underboob.

sexually speaking, you hadn't done much because you were very cautious about how far you were gonna go with chris, especially considering the situation. a guy whos fucked more girls than you know, and who you’re not in a relationship with. and it's not like they were gonna build up to a boyfriend girlfriend status, chris didn't do relationships and you knew that.

he keeps his hand there, only going further with his thumb as he brushes it over your hardened nipple. you moan out, your fingers gripping his hair tighter to keep his mouth on your neck.

he'd had his hand up your top like this before, but now with the arousal clouding his judgement, he began to ruffle the bottom of your top up, eventually pushing it past your tits.

your grip in his hair loosens as you feel your top lift up. he pulls away from your neck, looking up at you with clouded eyes, practically begging you. you nod ever so slightly, and that's enough for chris to trail his kisses further down, over your collar bones before skipping past your bundled up vest and over your tits.

his kisses are delicate on your boobs, like he's gracing the skin. the anticipation is only making you more horny and needy, which is probably why he was doing it. it was no shock that he knew how to pleasure a woman, that should be the bare minimum considering how much practice he gets.

then he looks up at you with his sexy blue eyes, wrapping his lips around your nipple with a smirk plastered on his face. you want to make a comment, but the feeling of him sucking on your sensitive nipple before flicking his tongue over it is too much. so much that you let out a string of gasps and moans, having to bite down on your bottom lip.

once you get used to the new pleasure, your hands return to his hair and your hips begin furiously grinding against his.

you’re in ecstasy, and yet they’re hardly doing anything. for chris he's more centred on your pleasure right now, knowing that you wouldn’t do what he needs you to do so desperately for him. but making a girl squirm under his touch was just as satisfying to him than his own pleasure, your reactions going straight to his already overly-inflated ego.

he pulls off, looking up at you with a cocky grin. “feel good?” he asks, running his fingers over both your nipples as he spoke.

“shut up.” you breathe out, ignoring his cocky remark as you continued to grind your hips against him.

“c’mon, answer the question.” he coaxes, gripping your hips to still your movements. you groan, desperate to move again. “don't be a prick chris” you whine, practically drunk on the pleasure he was giving you.

there's a smug grin on his face as he feels triumphant, looking at you squirm on his lap. “can i finger you?” he asks, the grin still on his face.

you pause, thinking for a second. he takes note of your hesitation, his hand travelling down so that he can teasingly hook his finger into the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. “c’mon.” he coaxes, pressing soft kisses to your neck in order to persuade you.

you sigh at the feeling of his lips on your neck. “okay.” you hum, grabbing his wrist to push his hand into your underwear. “don't go inside though.” you whisper.

“what?” he questions, a curious, amused expression on his face. “don't.. properly finger me.” you say nervously.

his curiosity peaks at your nervousness, you usually spoke so confidently. “why?” he questions. you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance at his pestering comments. “just don't, okay?”

his eyebrows raise a little, an amused grin on his face. “yes ma’am.” he mocks, before his hand ventures a little further, his fingers taking no time to find your clit.

you can't even make a snarky comment back, your mouth falling agape as soon as his fingers are on you. he rubs slow circles on your clit, drawing out soft moans. he hesitates to go back to kissing your neck, instead watching as your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure.

“you look so pretty right now.” he murmurs, his voice slightly hoarse. “shut up.” you breathe out, your hands gripping into his hair to pull his lips back to your neck. he lets out a small chuckle against your skin before he sucks at your neck again, simultaneously speeding up the movement of his fingers.

he temporarily removes his hand, shifting to rub your clit with his thumb instead. the more comfortable position allows him to be more deliberate with his touch, creating a faster more consistent rhythm against your bundle of nerves.

“holy shit.” you whine, your body tensing in pleasure as you drop your head onto his shoulder. “you sure you don't want me to finger you?” he whispers in your ear, smirking to himself.

you shake your head, “why not?” he pouts, looking up at you. you look down at him, “i've just never, y’know-” you say quietly, slightly embarrassed by the fact.

“you've never fingered yourself?” he questions, eyebrows raised as he's slightly taken back by the information. his gaze shifts down to where his hand is, down your trousers, watching his own movements as he gently circles your clit. then his eyes meet yours again. “is it bad that i find that hot?” he mumbles, although he's not expecting you to answer.

you roll your eyes at his comment, of course he would find it hot that no one had ever touched you there, not even with your own fingers. “can you just shut up and keep doing what you were doing.” you huff, annoyed at all the interruptions.

“you're so bossy.” he states, enjoying the way he annoys you. “and you talk too much.” you respond, connecting your lips with his to stop him from continuously talking.

the kiss is desperate and messy now that you’ve picked up the pace, his thumb moving faster on your clit to match the energy of your kiss.

he's painfully hard right now, gently rocking his hips up for some friction against your ass. his free hand moves up to grope your boob, gently massaging the flesh as he occasionally brushes his thumb over your nipple.

your hands are in his hair, tugging at the strands. they venture further, cupping his face and grabbing at his hoodie to pull him closer.

“i'm close.” you mumble out against his lips. previously you never would've gone even this far, but with the overwhelming pleasure, you couldn't care less right now.

“where d’you want m’mouth?” he whispers, face a few centimetres from yours as you both catch your breath.

“neck.” you respond quickly, rutting your hips forward to get back the pleasure of his thumb on your clit. the movement of your hips makes you grind against his hard cock. he lets out a gruntled moan as he begins to suck at your neck again.

it's only a few minutes later of his thumb moving at a ridiculous speed, whilst he nips at your neck, his tongue occasionally darting out to soothe the skin. “oh fuck.” you whine, your hips rutting forward in the rush of the moment as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

he shifts his neck to watch as you come undone, your body shaking as you grab onto him, drawing him closer. you let out breathy moans as he continues to rub your clit, continuing to stimulate you as you ride out your high.

once your body relaxes, you flinch away at the overstimulation, dragging his hand out of your underwear by his wrist.

“you look sexy when you cum.” he mumbles, so turned on it was impossible to think about anything else other than his throbbing dick.

you chuckle a little, smiling at him in your orgasmic haze.”thank you.” you whisper, looking down at him endearingly as you run your hand through his hair, evening out your breathing.

“you okay?” you ask softly. he settles his hands on your thighs, softly rubbing them up and down. “uh yeah. just ridiculously hard.” he chuckles out in a breath, looking down at the bulge in his jeans.

your gaze follows him as your teeth naw at your bottom lip. “could i just grind on it?” you mumble out, going a little red at the awkward wording.

“mhm, yeah.” he nods, not wanting to push you to do anything. he leans back on his elbows, giving you the space to do it.

you grip onto his shoulders as you begin to roll your hips across his. he lets out a soft sigh, mostly of relief. after a few minutes though, it begins to feel uncomfortable, the denim rubbing against his sensitive dick.

he sits up a little, gripping your hips to stop you. your face turns to confusion. “sorry- just hurts a little.” he groans, shifting his hips under you to get rid of the discomfort.

you move your hips back so that there's no weight on his dick anymore, then you move your hand down to unbuckle his belt. “oh.” he sighs in surprise and excitement, watching your hands as he lets you.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans, opening them to reveal the vivid outline of his hard cock behind his boxers. you shuffle his jeans down far enough for them to not be covering his dick anymore, ignoring the way her mouth waters at the sight.

“shit.” he hisses under his breath, watching tour every move in anticipation, letting you do what you want. you then shift forwards again, your weight back on his dick. “mmgh.” he groans at the new sensation.

“better?” you ask, rocking your hips back and forth in fluid motions. “mmh, yeah-fuck.” he moans, lying back on the bed as he lets his mouth fall open.

he can almost feel your pussy against him, only thin layers of material between them. his hands wander to your hips, reaching round to squeeze the flesh of your ass.

he lets out breathy moans as his head falls back against the mattress, giving into the feeling of your body against his. every time he feels the heat of your core rubbing against his throbbing dick, it makes his stomach turn, bringing him closer to the edge.

“i’m gonna cum like this.” he groans, his words catching in his throat. as he feels his orgasm approaching, he shifts under you, pulling the waistband of his boxers down enough for his dick to spring out.

you watch with wide eyes, shifting back onto his thighs. he doesn't notice your startled, curious expression, only thinking about the pleasure as he wraps his hand around his dick. he pumps himself, lips thinning as he concentrates. his face contracts, scrunching up as he furiously rubs his cock, desperate to cum.

“oh fuck.” he groans, using his free hand to lift his hoodie up slightly. “fuck, fuck-” he moans, head falling back as his face relaxes into pleasure.

you watch curiously as ropes of cum spurt out of the tip. you’ve never seen a dick in front of you like this, the erotic scene turning you on more than you’d like to admit.

“shiiiiit.” he groans, pumping the last of his cum out. it's a mess, all over his hand that's now loosely wrapped around his half hard dick, the rest on his lower stomach, slowly running down.

“fuck- could’ya get a tissue or somethin?” he mumbles, snapping you out of your trance. “uh, yeah, yeah.” you mumble under your breath, scrambling off his lap to get some toilet paper from your bathroom. you return with the entire roll, ripping off a bunch and handing it to him.

he takes it from you, cleaning up his hand before attending to the mess on him. he wipes it all off, requesting some more to which you quickly respond, ripping more off and handing it to him all scrunched up.

“thanks.” he sighs, finishing up. you nod a little, returning to the bathroom to put the toilet paper back.

once you return, he’s tucked his dick away, doing up his belt. “sorry bout that.” he apologises, looking over her bed to make sure none of the mess made it’s way there.

“s’fine.” you mumble, standing in front of him. he stands up, fixing his hoodie and his trousers to look presentable again.

“uh, m’gonna go.” he says, pointing towards the window. “m’kay.” you nod, your bottom lip settled between your teeth.

“you okay?” he questions, raising an eyebrow as he gently rubs your upper arms. “yeah, yeah. i'm good.” you reassured him with a soft smile.

“okay, i'll see you tomorrow.” he nods, cupping your face and pressing a soft kiss to your head. he then moves away, opening your window. “bio exams tomorrow.” he says as a reminder, although it was obvious that he was just remembering and reminding himself.

“yep.” you chirp, watching as he climbs out onto your roof. he sends you a sly grin before shutting the window behind him and leaving your house.

you stand there for a second, thinking about what just happened before you push it all out of your mind, settling back to your desk to revise. sitting there like nothing had even happened.

----

"Come on, baby. Just once. Just let me feel you."

It had been Rafe's favorite thing to beg for since the start of your relationship. His obsession. His mission.

Every time he had you underneath him, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his hands gripping at your waist or your wrists or your throat—he'd ask. He'd plead. He'd run his lips over your ear, whispering filthy promises about how good it would feel, how much better it would be, how you’d never want to go back.

And every time, you told him no.

You liked making him work for it. You liked the way his jaw clenched, the way his grip got tighter, the way his frustration seeped into every rough thrust. Because Rafe Cameron didn’t lose, and telling him no? That made him desperate to win.

But tonight?

Tonight, you felt mean.

Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night, the way his hands had barely left your body, like he was starving. Maybe it was the way he pulled you onto his lap the second you got to his house, hands palming your ass, lips dragging along your jaw. Maybe it was the way you wanted to ruin him.

So, when he kissed you breathless and muttered against your lips, "Please, baby, just once," you smirked.

"Fine."

Rafe froze. His pupils dilated so fast you thought he might pass out. His lips parted, brows pulling together like he was trying to process what he just heard.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "You heard me."

And then?

He lost his fucking mind.

The second his cock pressed inside, with nothing in between, he let out a sound you’d never heard before. Like an actual, feral groan, deep in his chest, his body shuddering against yours as he bottomed out.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping his head to your shoulder. His hands gripped your thighs like he wanted to bruise them, like he needed to ground himself. "Fuck. You feel—Jesus."

His breath was hot against your neck, his whole body shaking with restraint. Like he wanted to ruin you, but he was trying—failing—to keep himself together.

"You good?" you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

Rafe let out a low, humorless laugh before he pulled back to look at you. His blue eyes were dark, wild, possessive.

"Oh, baby," he rasped, voice dripping with something dangerous. His hand slid up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat, tilting your chin up. "You just fucked up."

Rafe didn’t move for a second. He just stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him. Like he was already dreading the moment he had to pull out.

“Holy shit,” he rasped, voice all shaky and breathless.

You smirked, just a little, running your hands up his arms. “What? You’re not gonna punk out on me, are you?”

That snapped something in him.

Rafe let out a choked laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way he gripped your waist. “You think I’m gonna tap out? Oh, baby.” His fingers dug into your skin, holding you down. “I’m just trying not to bust the second I move.”

You laughed, but the sound cut off when he rolled his hips—just once, slow, deep.

His whole body shuddered. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing into yours, his jaw clenching like he was physically fighting his own body.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts, and his grip on you only got tighter. “Oh my God, this is—this is so much better—”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, dragging your nails up his back. “C’mon, baby,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “I thought you were dying for this. Don’t tell me you can’t handle it.”

That did it.

Rafe’s hands jerked your hips up, making you gasp, making you feel just how hard he was struggling to keep it together.

“You love running that mouth, don’t you?” he gritted out, glaring down at you. “Think you’re so fucking funny.”

You smirked up at him, dragging your fingers through his hair. “You begged for this, Cameron. If you can’t handle it, just say so.”

That was the final straw.

Rafe let out a sharp breath, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still talking, still teasing him when he was this close to fucking losing it.

“Okay,” he muttered, half to himself, like he was officially done playing nice. His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you into the mattress, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes when he said—

“Don’t fucking move.”

Then, he pulled out—all the way—before slamming back in, forcing a gasp from your lips as he stretched you again.

Rafe let out a broken groan, his body shuddering as he tried—tried—not to let it get the best of him. But you were so tight, so fucking warm, and there was nothing, nothing, in between.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Baby, I swear to God, I can’t—”

You laughed, breathless. “Already?”

His grip tightened around your throat in warning. “Shut up,” he muttered, voice shaking.

You did, but only because you were too distracted by the way he was trembling above you, holding himself back, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw popped.

You could feel how desperate he was. You could see the way his abs tensed, his muscles flexing as he fought for every ounce of self-control he had.

He wanted to ruin you. He needed to.

But he was so close, and it was killing him.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, glaring down at you. “I hate you,” he muttered, his voice all breathless and wrecked.

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

And then, you moved. Just a little. Just enough to make him jerk inside you, to make his whole body seize up.

My brother Baylen has been home for all of five minutes before we’re already at each other’s throats. Nothing major—just the usual biting remarks, the passive-aggressive tension that’s existed between us for as long as I can remember. It’s not like we have some tragic backstory; we just don’t get along.

So, I use this project as an excuse to get out, even if it means stepping into enemy territory.

Matt’s house is clean but has a certain emptiness to it. The walls are bare, the furniture simple and unassuming. There are no candles, no decorative pillows, no family photos—nothing that gives off any sense of warmth. It’s functional, but it lacks a motherly touch, and for some reason, that sits with me more than it should.

Matt opens the door, nodding in greeting before stepping aside to let me in.

“No Chris?” I ask, scanning the space as I drop my bag near the couch.

Matt shakes his head. “He’s out, probably with Trevor.”

“Good,” I mutter under my breath, though a tiny part of me isn’t sure if I mean it.

Matt leads me to the dining table, where our books and notes are already set up. We work in comfortable silence, his presence easy to be around despite how little he speaks. He isn’t overly friendly, but he isn’t cold either—just somewhere in between.

I watch as Matt bites his lip, staring down at his phone with his face scrunches. 

“What’s up?” I ask. 

Matt shakes his head, letting out a sight as he runs his hands through his hair. “It’s–um…nothing, I just, ugh.” He brings his hand to his mouth, chewing on his nails. “It’s this girl, she’s, uh–I wanna ask her out, but I just don’t know… how?” 

My heart pulses as I look at his flushed cheeks. He’s so sweet. 

“What’s holding you back?” I ask, placing my hands in my lap as I give him my undivided attention. 

How are Matt and Chris even related? Matt’s so nice and Chris is… 

Well, Chris. 

“Do you know Mia?” I shake my head at his question. Mia didn’t sound familiar. “Well, I really like her and I’m just–-I’m not very good with girls, I guess.” 

My eyes widen with disbelief, my hand slapping over my mouth as I hold back a laugh. 

Matt squirms in his seat. “What’s so funny?” 

He’s so clueless. 

“Matt,” I huff, licking over my lips as I hold back a smile. “You’re great with girls. You’re sweet, you’re thoughtful…just–just ask!” I exclaim, placing my hand on his shoulder. 

His cheeks flourish with a more vibrant hue of red. “Thanks. But, how do I even ask?” 

“You like her?” 

He nods. 

“Well, make her feel special. Ask her on a date you know she’d like and be yourself because, trust me, that’s enough,” I direct. 

Matt’s body slumps with a relaxing breath. “Thank you, I think I’m just overthinking this shit,” he smiles, letting out an airy laugh. 

I lower my hand back down to my lap. “Anytime. I overthink too, it’s okay,” I joke. 

“What about you?” he asks. 

What about me? 

Noticing my confused expression, Matt explains more. “Any guy–or girl troubles?” 

My fingers intertwine with each other, fiddling as I stare back at my computer screen. “I, um, not really. The only guy troubles is my brother.” I huff. 

Matt rolls his eyes. “Trust me, I get that.” 

The conversation dies down as we settle into a comfortable silence. Clicks of fingers typing on keyboards echo as we direct our attention towards the class work. 

After about twenty minutes, the front door opens, followed by the familiar jingling of Trevor’s collar. My body tenses instinctively before I can stop myself.

Of course.

Chris strolls in like he owns the place, his sharp eyes immediately landing on me. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a beat too long before kicking off his shoes and heading toward the kitchen.

I ignore him, focusing on my notes. Or at least, I try.

“You’re back,” Chris finally says from across the room.

I roll my eyes. “Observant.”

Matt sighs. “Chris.”

“What?” Chris leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “I just wasn’t expecting her to voluntarily step foot in this house again.”

“Trust me, if I had another option, I’d take it,” I shoot back, gripping my pen tighter than necessary.

Chris smirks, the kind that makes my stomach twist in the most annoying way. “Must be bad if you’d rather be here.”

I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response, turning back to Matt, who’s clearly used to this dynamic but looks vaguely tired of it.

We continue working, but Chris doesn’t leave. Instead, he makes himself comfortable, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets as if he’s trying to be a distraction on purpose.

Trevor, traitor that he is, trots over and plops down near my chair, his tail thumping lazily against the floor. I reach down to scratch behind his ears, fully aware that Chris is watching.

“You two fight like children,” Matt mutters, flipping through his notes.

Chris and I both turn to glare at him, which only seems to amuse him more.

“You should’ve been an only child,” Chris quips.

Matt hums. “Believe me, sometimes I wish I was.”

I smirk. “Smartest thing you’ve said all day.”

Chris shoots me an unimpressed look. “Hilarious.”

For a while, it’s mostly quiet, aside from the scratching of pens against paper and the occasional shuffling of notes. Every so often, I can feel Chris’s gaze flicker to me, though I pretend not to notice.

Then, without warning, he plops down in the chair directly across from me, arms resting on the table.

“You two are boring,” he announces.

Matt doesn’t even look up. “Then leave.”

Chris ignores him, his eyes on me instead. “You always this serious when you work?”

I raise a brow. “You always this much of a pain in the ass?”

Chris smirks, drumming his fingers against the wood. “Depends on who you ask.”

I scoff. “Let me guess—if I asked Trevor, he’d say you’re insufferable.”

Chris leans back in his chair, grinning. “Oh, he loves me. He’s just playing favorites right now.”

Trevor, as if on cue, sighs contently from his spot at my feet.

I smirk. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Chris exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Matt finally sets his pen down, rubbing his temples. “Are you two going to do this the whole time?”

Chris and I exchange glances before I shrug. “Probably.”

Matt sighs. “Great.”

We manage to work for another hour, though Chris remains an infuriating presence. Every so often, he throws in some sarcastic comment, just enough to get under my skin but not enough for me to take the bait fully. It’s like he enjoys testing my patience, and unfortunately, I have a limited supply.

By the time we wrap up, my head’s starting to ache from the sheer force of keeping my annoyance in check.

As I gather my things, Chris leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “So, same time next time?”

I scoff. “You wish.”

Chris smirks. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need to wish.”

I shoot him a glare, stepping past him with Trevor at my heels.

Matt shakes his head as he follows me to the door. “You two exhaust me.”

I roll my eyes, stepping outside. “Then get better endurance.”

Chris snorts. “Doubt he’ll survive us.”

Matt mutters something under his breath before shutting the door behind me, leaving me standing on the porch with Trevor looking up at me like he expects me to stay.

I sigh, giving him one last scratch behind the ears. “See you later, buddy.”

From inside, I hear Chris call out, “Don’t encourage the betrayal!”

I laugh under my breath, shaking my head as I walk down the driveway.

This is going to be a problem.

And I’m not sure if I hate or like that.

As I reach for the handle to open the door, Trevor suddenly stands up, his tail wagging energetically as he trots over to me. He nudges his head against my legs, an oddly insistent gesture that I can’t quite place.

"What's up, cutie?" I mutter, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, but Trevor doesn’t seem satisfied. He sits at my feet, then looks up at me with an almost mournful gaze, like he’s trying to get my attention.

I chuckle, thinking maybe he just wants more love, but then, with surprising tenderness, he leans into my side, resting his head against my shoulder. It isn’t a normal gesture for him—he’s always playful, a little too energetic, but this is different. It feels… intimate. Protective, almost.

I freeze, my fingers halting mid-scratch as I stare at him, confused by the sudden shift in his behavior. Trevor’s never been this affectionate, at least not in a way that feels so personal. It’s as if he’s trying to comfort me, but I can’t understand why.

I feel a shift in the air—a presence that isn’t quite right. My gaze flicks up toward the door, and I catch Chris standing there, watching us. His posture is stiff, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. His jaw is set, his eyes a little too focused on Trevor and me. His lips part like he wants to say something but can’t.

Then Trevor does something I hadn’t expected. He nuzzles his face against mine, nudging my cheek with the same gentle pressure he’d shown when he leaned into me earlier. It feels different this time, like it carries an extra layer of tenderness, something that goes beyond a simple gesture of affection.

Chris's eyes widen, and for a moment, his expression falters—almost like he recognizes something. A brief flicker of emotion flashes in his eyes before his face hardens, and he turns away, muttering something under his breath.

“Shit,” he curses softly, his voice a mixture of frustration and something else I can’t place.

I don’t know what just happened, but the atmosphere suddenly feels heavier. Chris shakes his head as if trying to shake off whatever thoughts have crossed his mind. Without saying anything more, he walks quickly past us and out the door, his steps sharp and deliberate.

I watch him go, still processing what just happened with Trevor. There’s a strange, heavy silence between me and the dog as I stand up. Trevor just sits there, looking at me with those big, trusting eyes like nothing’s amiss. But I can tell something has shifted in the air, something I don’t fully understand.

"Matt?" I call softly, turning toward him. He’s standing by the table, his arms folded, looking between me and the door Chris just exited.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice quieter now. "Trevor’s never acted like that before. Why did Chris—"

Matt cuts me off before I can finish. “Forget it.” His voice is calm but firm, the kind of tone that doesn’t invite more questions.

I frown. “Forget what? What’s going on?”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he gathers the loose papers on the table. “It’s nothing. Trevor’s just weird sometimes.”

That’s a lie. I know it. And Matt knows that I know it.

I open my mouth to push further, but he beats me to it. “Did you finish the notes on chapter five?”

A deliberate subject change. Deflection at its finest.

I hesitate, glancing toward the door where Chris disappeared, my mind still turning over the strange energy in the room. Trevor’s unusual behavior. Chris’s reaction. The look on Matt’s face now—calm, unreadable, but a little too controlled.

Something is off.

But I can tell Matt isn’t going to give me anything. Not right now.