Malls

y/n can't recall the single moment she understood she was adopted.  instead, she can recall hearing her parents screaming at each other through the wall.  she remembers the booming sound of her father's fist against a table, a time so long ago she shouldn't have been retaining memories.  then she remembers her mother's screeching voice, which always seemed to operate at a frequency that made y/n instinctively cover her ears.  but even through her hands, y/n could always hear their argument circle back to one topic.

"this is your fault!"

"mine? how is this my fault?" cal's deep voice echoed through the drywall.

"you're the one who brought her here!"  y/n always imagined her mother pointing her bony finger at her father's chest during this bit.

"martha, she is our daughter," cal would always say.  the crack in his voice indicated more emotion than he let on.

"i did not choose to bring her into this world or into this house.  might i remind you, that was all you!  so no, she is not my daughter!"

"don't you dare say that.  she is ours!"

"then tell me why.  tell me why you had to bring her home."

it always went silent after that question.  there were a few seconds where y/n could only hear her own heartbeat, then the sharp slamming of a door.

y/n never brought up the arguments, or the fact that she remembered them so long after.  they stopped after the first few years, but martha's anger never really went away, it only changed shape.

her mom always made her school lunches and signed her permission slips and held her shoulder tight in the framed family photo like every mom did.  but living with her mom sometimes felt like living with a roommate: the affection was never there.

at times, y/n resented her mother for it.  she'd shut her eyes tight and imagine her birth mother was there instead.

she liked to imagine what she looked like: did they share the same jawline or eye color or skin tone?  were their smiles and laughs the same?  would her hands be soft and her eyelashes thick?  the mental picture was slightly different every time, but always beautiful to y/n.  she imagined her birth mother holding her tight, kissing her forehead, braiding her hair like moms did.

but on the days when she practiced a bit more grace, she began to understand her mother's perspective and how difficult it must have been to care for a child that you never wanted in the first place.

xxx

your fingers dance across the computer keyboard and your elbows dig into your mattress.  you recognize bella in your peripheral, swiveling back and forth in your desk chair as she hacks away at chemistry problems.  she always fidgets like that when she's losing focus, so you're not surpirsed when she swings around to face you with an exasperated look.

"y/n," bella whines.  she throws her arms down by her sides and slouches in the chair.

"bells," you say cautiously, still typing and keeping your eyes glued to your computer screen.  you're deep into your essay, and you'd prefer to get it done now rather than later.

"i'm tired," she says.  her head lulls back and falls over the head of the chair.  you want to roll your eyes at how dramatic she's being, but you're too focused on your character analysis of tess of the d'urbervilles.

"c'mon, just a little longer.  i'm almost done," you say absentmindedly.  it's a complete lie, but you'd say just about anything to get bella to focus.  "and i know you have to do those problems by tonight."

"dude, you sound like mom," bella groans.  you don't even flinch because you've heard that line too many times before.

she begins to swivel back toward the desk, and you think you've succeeded.  but halfway there, she whips back around so fast that she steals your attention.

"so i was thinking for the carnival-"

"bella!" you chastise her, smashing your hands down on the keyboard.  a mix of gibberish letters and symbols flash onto your screen.

"just give me a second!"  bella defends herself.  now she's sitting perfectly upright with a newfound sparkle in her eye.  you roll your eyes, but listen as always.  "i was thinking for the carnival, we should do a little double date, wouldn't that be so cute?"

"what?" you ask with a touch of annoyance.

"don't play dumb!  i know you and phoenix have been texting," bella says, attempting to wiggle her eyebrows but failing miraculously.

she was right, you had been texting him.  you almost forgot, and, now that you were thinking about it, you probably left him on read by accident.  still, he's easy to talk to and pretty interesting, especially because he's a nationally ranked basketball player.  that would make a lot of people assume he's a womanizer, but you like that he's an athlete.  you know firsthand that to be that good at anything, you need drive and passion and discipline.  those qualities are especially important to you, and they're requirements in a partner.  they also aren't exactly easy to come by these days.

bella is right when she says that he's a perfect match for you on paper, but she's still more interested in him than you are.  the seeds of a familiar feeling have already been planted themselves in the back of your mind.  it always starts small, but grows into an inescapable dread.

your phone flashes beside you.  you glance over and bella notices.

"ooh, is that him?" she squeals with pure excitement.

"uh, yeah," you say.  you reach for you phone and quickly flip it so the screen is face down.

"what're you doing? answer him!"  bella tells you, nearly jumping out of her seat.

"i'll answer later, it's—"

"y/n!  lock in!"  bella shouts, clapping her hands for emphasis.

you look at her.  you see how animated she is, and you realize she's not going to let this one go, being the most stubborn person you know.

"jesus, okay," you say, grabbing your phone.  when you turn it over and hold it close to your face, you see you have a few texts now:

hey come over my mom just left

you automatically scoff.  you've been to her house enough times that maddy's mom loves you actually, so that wouldn't be a problem.  you're not sure if her mom knows your last name, but you're sure she has no idea what you and maddy get up to in her room.  all that aside, it's easy to understand the meaning behind maddy's abrupt text.

you glance back up at bella.  she's beaming at you like a proud mother and you feel a pang of guilt in your chest.  you should tell her the truth.  you should tell her that you caved again, that you fell right back into maddy's grasp thanks to virtually no pressure.  but bella would not be happy about that, and you'd be on the receiving end of a very lengthy and angry lecture.  you know it's deserved nonetheless, but you don't want to deal with it right now.  maybe sometime in the near future, but not right now.

you bury your head back in your phone and type a quick response.

not rn i have hw

you imagine maddy rolling her eyes on the other end.

are u deadass think of a better excuse next time

maddy i'm serious next time

there's a long pause.  you think maddy is going to leave you on read, but right before you put your phone down, she replies.

whatever

it's exactly what you expect from her.  you drop your phone and turn back to your computer.

"so? carnival?" bella asks expectantly.

you look up at her and smile, not because of phoenix or the carnival, but because of how excited bella looks.

"yeah, i'm in."

"perfect!  i'll tell quen," she grins, immediately typing away on her phone, homework forgotten.

your smile fades as you attempt to refocus on your essay, but the words are all bleeding together.  you can't even remember the last time you lied to bella.

xxx

since they were first uttered, martha's words continued to ring in y/n's ears.

they got louder when the kids at school would look between her and nate with confusion, when they would ask: "so if he's your brother, why are you a different color?"  they got louder when people at the surrounding tables at her family's favorite restaurant would do double takes.

but y/n couldn't change the color of her skin or the bridge of her nose or the shape of her eyes.  she couldn't look like the rest of her family, even if, for simplicity's sake, she sometimes wished she did.

cal tried his best to shut down these intrusive thoughts when he recognized them.  nate and aaron even chipped in in the way that only protective older brothers could. they always reassured her that she was a part of the family no matter what.

y/n always nodded in response, pressing her lips together in a tight smile which hid her deeper feelings.  y/n wanted to scream sometimes: she didn't need to be told she was a part of the family, she knew that.  she just wished someone would tell the ugly, judgmental world that.

xxx

nate always got comfortable after maddy took him back.  maddy didn't notice it at first, but after a few rounds of breaking up and getting back together, she recognized the pattern.  he'd coast on his goodwill, granted to him by a grand gesture and expensive gift, while being a perfectly mediocre boyfriend.  but soon enough, he'd mess up again, maddy would lose her shit, and the whole cycle would start over again.  maddy was already noticing him start to slip.

it felt like every time maddy looked over, no matter where they were, his thumbs were typing away on his phone.  that was strange for someone who could barely respond to his own girlfriend's texts.  maddy had to snap her fingers in front of his face at lunch so he'd listen to her instead of staring down at his lap.

on the rare occasion that he wasn't texting, his phone was still blowing up.  while he was driving her home, she eyed his phone in the cup holder, constantly flashing and buzzing over her voice.  when she finally asked him who it was and if he wanted her to answer for him, he mumbled a quick excuse about his dad and tucked his phone under his leg.

obviously he was hiding something.  unlike nate, maddy was an expert at hiding things.  she also wasn't born yesterday.  maddy's first instinct was that her boyfriend was cheating on her, as would be the first thought of most girlfriends.

after nate drops her off, maddy sits alone in her room and thinks about it.  she thinks about him texting another girl, about them exchanging nudes and flirty, vomit-inducing texts.  she thinks about them even meeting up in person, of them fucking in his bed, the same one she'd laid in so many times.

maddy begins to feel the familiar rush.  it's the feeling of her blood starting to boil in her veins, the same way she felt when she saw nate at the party with his hands all over that random blonde.  that feeling slowly rises within her, building upon itself as it always does.  but before it reaches its peak, it dissipates.  her mind strays and the feeling dies halfway.

would she really be that angry if nate cheated?  of course, she would throw a fit unlike any other.  she'd publicly humiliate him, and probably herself in the process, so he knew how badly he fucked up.  but deep down, she wondered if it would truly tear her apart.  she also wondered how nate would feel if he knew she was cheating on him.

she felt the newfound urge to reach for her phone and tap on your contact name.  recently, that seemed to be the cure to every uneasy thought she had, even though most of the time you dodged her.  still, she hadn't been deterred yet.

but instead of texting you this time, she clicks on instagram.  she doesn't even need to search for your username as she already sees it at the top corner of her screen.  she clicks on your story, and sees the most recent picture you posted.  it's you in your cheer uniform on the sidelines of the last football game.  you're posing back to back with one of your teammates, pom poms in hand, makeup done to a tee, and teal ribbon dangling from your ponytail.

perfect, is what maddy thinks.  you always look perfect in a way that shouldn't be possible.  it's some quality in your beautiful smile.  it screams cheer captain.  golden girl.  everyone loves me. 

maddy's not sure how you do it, how you keep up this spotless image without ever letting it slip.  it must be exhausting, at least it would be for her.  but she feels a hidden pride knowing she's one of the only people that can peel back your mask and disassemble the person everyone thinks you are.

xxx

y/n's perspective started to shift when she was eleven.

she was sitting in the front seat of her dad's truck, feet dangling just above the ground, barely tall enough to see over the dashboard.  they'd gotten in the car a while ago, but cal never started the engine.

a random boy on the playground told her that her family wasn't her "real" family.  cal witnessed it and had to hold himself back from hurting a fifth grader.  instead, he turned toward his only daughter with an earnest look in his eyes.

"y/n," he said, more seriously than y/n had ever heard him speak before.  "don't let anyone tell you you're not apart of this family.  you are."  this was something she had heard many times before.  he paused, staring into her curious eyes which always seemed to dig the deepest truths out of him.  "you're the best of us, y/n.  don't ever forget that.  they'll understand it soon enough.  you're going to show them."

that was the exact moment when a different thought started to drown out the old one.

the best.  show them.

she sat in silence with her dad on the way home.  little did he know, his eleven year old daughter was having an epiphany, if you could even have one at that age.  she didn't need to look like a jacobs.  she needed to prove she was one.

xxx

in middle and high school, y/n excelled.  whatever she decided to do, she decided she would be the best at it.

she studied hard and maintained a perfect gpa.  she danced competitively and became a top-ranked dancer in the state of california, and later the youngest captain of her school's cheerleading squad.  she made friends easily.  she let go of what she couldn't control, and poured all her energy into what she could.

some would say she was a little too perfect, that she must have some bodies in her backyard or something else that she was hiding.  she didn't do drugs, not even weed, and she never drank past her limits.  she said "hi" to more people in the hallway than not.  she rarely missed a day of school.  she was blindingly gorgeous.  she talked to guys and had sex, but she wasn't a whore.  when her brothers knocked someone over in the hallway without sparing a glance, y/n helped them pick up their things. 

she was the perfect child, the type that other parents would compare their own kids to.  the type that other parents wanted to call their own, other guys wanted to have, and other girls wanted to be.  y/n jacobs.  suddenly, the color of her skin was the least interesting thing about her.

xxx

maddy kneels on nate's bed for another round of mediocre sex that leaves her feeling strangely empty inside.  she can feel his hand in her hair and the other on her hip, but she's focused on something else entirely: nate's phone, buzzing face down on his nightstand.

she watches it, even when nate folds over her, pressing his chest against her back to tell her "that was amazing."  not long after, he walks into his bathroom and turns the shower on, leaving maddy to sit on his bed and contemplate if going through his phone would make her a bad girlfriend.

she thinks it over for a minute, eyes flicking between his phone and the ajar bathroom door.  it's a golden opportunity, though probably unethical.  but maddy knows she's done worse things, and snatches the phone off the nightstand.

she swipes through his text messages and instagram dms, searching for incriminating evidence.  much to her dismay, she finds absolutely nothing.  it isn't until she checks his camera roll and scrolls back a bit that she finds something, albeit not at all what she was expecting.

"what the fuck," she mumbles under her breath.  there's so many dick pics, all of which are not nate's, that maddy's jaw literally drops.

she clicks on a few photos to make sure she's not seeing things and only gets further confirmation that none of these are nate's.  she stares at the screen, mouth still open as she begins to process this new information.

why the fuck would a straight guy need pictures of other guys dicks?  unless nate isn't...

the thought alone makes maddy recoil.  she quickly deletes all the tabs she's opened, shuts off his phone, and places it back on his nightstand.

nate isn't gay, obviously.  he sticks his dick in maddy practically any chance he gets.  but you could like boys and girls, right?  that must be true.

she gets dressed haphazardly and grabs her bag.  she plucks her lip gloss out and smears a generous coat over her lips.  she checks her reflection in the mirror on nate's wall, smoothing her hair back into place and ensuring her makeup hasn't smudged.

"my mom called, i gotta go," maddy shouts loud enough for nate to hear her over the water.

"okay, i love you, bye," he says back.

"love you too."

maddy slams the door shut behind her and exhales like she can finally breathe again.  the staircase is right in front of her.  she should walk down the steps and out of this hellish house and get in her car and drive home.  but her gaze darts to her right.  her eyes fall upon the white door just feet away from nate's.  she stares at it for a few moments, picturing the sight that lies behind it.  it magnetically pulls her closer.

she's been thinking about this opportunity ever since you sent her those pictures of your neckline tugged beneath your breasts and your fingers toying with your bottom lip.  she remembers the gut wrenching feeling of looking at those pictures for the first time and sneaking her own fingers beneath her waistband.

she places her hand on the handle without a shred of doubt and gently turns it.  she opens the door slowly, not for lack of confidence, only to prevent the loud creaking of the hinges.  before she can even see inside, she slips her body through the narrow crack and gently closes the door behind her.

your back is facing her.  you're staring at your reflection in the full length mirror hanging on the back of your bathroom door, combing your fingers through your hair.  you're wearing your dance clothes with a pair of baggy track pants on top.  that allows maddy a perfect view of your back muscles as you raise your arms to put your hair up, as if she needed another a reason to be here.

you catch maddy in the reflection, and don't bother turning around.  it's far from unusual to catch her sneaking into your room.

"maddy, i have practice," you say, trying to focus on gathering your hair into a ponytail.

maddy doesn't answer.  instead, she stalks closer, eyes sticking to all the places where fabric isn't covering you.  she's still not completely used to the overwhelming desire that conquers her body every time she's alone with you.  somehow, it's even worse when you try to fight it off.

"i have to leave soon," you tell her once she's right behind you.  her hands land at your sides, nails scraping along bare skin.  your back subtly arches at the feeling.

she stares into the mirror over your shoulder, her eyes now holding yours in the reflection.  before you can form a coherent though, her fingers are just above the elastic waistband of your pants.  you can barely find your words.  you reserve all of your strength for resisting your body's natural, unavoidable reaction to her.  "don't-"

"well, you don't have to leave now, do you?"  though phrased like one, it's not a question.  her warm palms press against your skin as her hands fully take hold of your waist.  she subtly pulls you back so your back is flush against her chest.  she hooks her chin over your shoulder, sparing you one daring look before she turns her head and presses her lips against your neck.  your head naturally lulls away from her and your eyes flutter shut.  maddy watches it all and smiles into the next kiss.

you're weak.  you know that.  you should still be mad at her.  you should listen to bella and forget all about her.  but maddy kisses you again and again, each growing heavier and climbing up your jugular until she's biting the skin just behind your ear.  a louder exhale escapes your lips, teetering on a moan.  you can't remember why it's good to be strong.

maddy's thumbs creep beneath your pants, catching on the elastic waistband.  she pulls them down over your ass, before letting them drop to the ground, revealing just tiny compression shorts underneath. 

once your pants are pooling around your ankles, her hands find your waist once more, this time snaking around to your stomach and firmly pulling you backwards, toward your bed.

"stay with me," she whispers, lips still barely removed from your neck.  she adopts that seductive tone that leaves you at her mercy.  it doesn't even matter what words are coming from her mouth—you're hers.

you drop your hair, which you previously held in a loose ponytail with your hand, and let her walk you backwards to your bed.  at the last second, she slides out from behind you, and pushes you backward with a firm a hand to your chest.

you softly gasp as back hits the mattress with a subtle bounce.  your head falls back, nearly tipping over the edge of the bed, and your hair fans out cinematically on the neat comforter.  you look up at maddy, lips slightly parted and hands resting lifelessly beside your head, like a sleeping beauty who's just awoken and seen everything in color for the first time.  you're surrendered to her and out of control.  that's what turns maddy on the most.

she places each knee on either side of your hips and straddles you on the bed.  she leans over you, letting her eyes soak up the sight, before she surges forward and presses her lips against yours.

you both realize it's been way too long since the last time.  you can't remember why you spent so much time being angry with her and she can't remember why she wastes any of her time with nate.  she devours you bit by bit, while simultaneously finding your open hands beside your head.  she interlaces her fingers with yours and you feel a sudden rush of a emotion and a confusing urge to cry.

maddy subconciously grinds her hips down against yours, already feeling warmer and wetter than she did with nate, mere minutes ago.  she can't remember the last time she's wanted something this badly and she can't believe she ever let this feeling fade.

maddy's impatience means she detaches her lips from yours, leaving a wet mess behind.  she pushes your thighs apart and shifts so she's kneeling in between your legs.  she sits back on her heels, just as out of breath as you are.  she watches as you reach for your sports bra and tug it up over your head, discarding it on the floor behind you.

"fuck, i missed this," she says, eyes glued to your chest.  you're not sure if she's talking to you, herself, or your breasts as she reaches forward and gropes you with one hand.  you arch into her touch, head turning to the side and cheek pressing against the comforter.

with her other hand, maddy reaches for your waistband and wastes no time in tugging it down.  you lift your hips to help her drag the tight shorts down your legs and onto the carpet.  just as she's about to duck down, your hand grabs at her top.

"maddy," you whine, pulling on the fabric of her blue halter top again.  she hesitates for a second, staring at your small pout while realizing how much she loves the sound of you and how it goes straight to her core.  then she listens to your plea.  she quickly pulls her top off, leaving her almost as naked as you.

she finally grabs the underside of one of your thighs and pushes it up and over her shoulder, before doing the one thing she's been aching to do.  she leans down and licks a long stripe agianst your slit.  you moan like clockwork even with such little stimulation, probably because no one's touched you since she last did two months ago.  your wetness coats her tongue.

she eats you out just like you taught her to almost a year ago, when she got tired of using just her fingers and wanted to taste pussy for the first time.  yours, specifically.  she keeps her lips closed around your clit while rhythmically sinking and curling two fingers inside of you.

she enjoys eating you out, but the best part by far, is the sounds you make when she does it just right.  your moans and whines stir something within her that only you have ever brought out.  she can feel her panties growing wetter the louder and needier you get, even as you cover your mouth so your brother doesn't hear next door.

"fuck, maddy, just like that," you whine when her tongue circles your clit just right.

she watches you closely, noticing how your eyes squeeze shut and your nails scrape against her scalp when she's doing extra good.  she thinks she could spend all day here, making you feel good and grinding against your mattress.

when you're not looking at the back of your own eyelids, you look down at maddy perez between your legs.  besides realizing how intensely beautiful she is, especially like this, you can't help but wonder how you've gotten so lucky to be wanted by her of all people.

you come on her tongue quicker than usual.  one of her hands holds your thigh over her shoulder, while the other holds your hips down as you desperately buck into her face.  you moan her name loud, but strained, like you're scared of somebody hearing you.  she licks and swallows all of you despite your sensitive whines, rising from between your legs with evidence of you all over her face.

"tastes so fucking good," she says, sucking the rest off of her fingers.  you could come again just from the sight of that.  "you should let me do this all the time."