pip.

When your opener had to cancel on you for your San Francisco show, you really couldn’t blame him. He was a young singer, modeling his image and sound on the crooner styles of the last decade. When his label suddenly booked him a bigger, solo gig in Pasadena, he was apologetic to you, but of course couldn’t decline the offer. 

The frustrating thing was that your show was in two days, which left you almost no time to book anyone else.

“I mean, we could just push back the start time, no opener,” Martin suggests.

“Ugh, I hate that,” you mumble. “It’s hard without an opener.”

Jack watches you from his perch by the window, sticking his cigarette out of it between puffs. You’re in Martin’s office, discussing the game plan for the show before you leave tomorrow. 

“And it’s the Fourth of July show,” you reason. “People will be getting there early. There’s no one we know that can take it?”

“The label keeps them booked!” Martin sighs. “We’ll figure something out, kid, I just–”

“Wait a minute,” you say, sitting up suddenly in your chair. “What about Eric?”

“Eric?” Martin repeats dumbly.

“Eric and The Strangers,” you clarify. “They’re playing a show in San Francisco that weekend, if the label could offer to put them up for the extra two days, I bet they’d be willing to come up early.”

Jack takes another drag off his cigarette and ducks down towards the open window to exhale. 

“At a moment’s notice?” Martin asks skeptically. “I mean, we can try–”

“Please,” you insist. “Can we just call their manager?”

San Francisco is hot but breezy, allowing just the perfect amount of slightly sweaty summer heat to sit in the air.

You’re due to go on in about six hours, at eight o’clock. You’re nervously wandering around backstage when the sound of four British accents chattering and arguing back and forth catches your attention. You turn around the corner to see them holding their bags and guitars, awkwardly elbowing each other as they bound down the hallway.

“Eric!” you shout, your face illuminating at the sight of the shaggy haired rockstar. 

“Hey, love!” he chirps. You rush over to him and he folds you into a hug, dropping his things to the ground. He smells like cigarettes and something you can’t place. You can feel your feet lift off the floor slightly as he pulls you tight.

“Ugh, get a room,” Teddy teases.

Eric gently sets you back down and you pull away from him slightly.

“Thank you again for agreeing to do this,” you gush.

“F’course, love,” he replies. “I mean, I don’t know how much these American girls are gonna wanna see a couple of British blokes at their lit’le ‘breaking-free-of-England’ party but–”

You giggle.

“Truly,” you repeat. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he assures you, all the boisterous humor in his voice replaced with sincerity. 

“Honey, have you– oh. Hi,” Jack says, rounding the corner. You catch the way the boys just slightly snicker at Jack’s little pet name for you and your cheeks flush.

Eric holds up a hand in greeting.

“Hey, mate,” he says.

“You, um,” Jack stammers. “It’s time for your soundcheck.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” you reply. This venue is huge; you’re even a little nervous to take the stage while the seats are still empty.

“They need you now,” Jack insists with a huff. His tone sends a pang of guilt through you, and the guilt slowly smolders into anger.

“I said I’ll be there in a minute,” you retort.

“Sounds like you need t’go,” Eric offers gently, trying to give you an out. “I’ll come find you before our half-hour, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, irritated at how you’ve been cut short. You spin on your heel and walk quickly past Jack towards the stage. He follows behind you, trying to keep up.

After your soundcheck, you again stomp into your dressing room, not slamming, but quickly closing the door behind you. Jack pushes the door open seconds later.

“Knock!” you scream, recoiling from the door. Almost on instinct, he retreats into the hallway and knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you relent. He steps through the door and shuts it behind him. For a second, he stares at you. 

“What’s going on?” he asks evenly.

“What?” you counter hotly.

“Stop,” he says firmly. “Honey, I’m not playing right now. Why does it feel like you’re actually mad at me?”

“You know, Jack, maybe if you’re going to be so jealous about me just thanking Eric for agreeing to such a last minute show, maybe this little arrangement is a bad idea,” you snip, trying not to betray how hurt you are. The idea that Jack wouldn’t trust you alone with Eric, that he had to separate you as soon as you started speaking to him…it stings. You sit down at your vanity and pretend to busy yourself with organizing your make up brushes.

“What?” he asks gently.

“You can’t say it’s okay to play with him and then get mad at me the second I talk to him,” you respond, barely disguising the quiver in your voice. “That’s not fair.”

“Honey, I wasn’t mad at you,” he explains. “They just…they actually needed you for the sound check,” he chuckles softly. He comes up behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. He sighs. “I’m sorry…it’s still a little…new to me, to have to think about you with someone else. But I’m really not trying to be jealous, honest.”

You bring your hand to rest over his and meet his eye in the mirror. Jack leans down to your ear.

“Let me make it up to you?” he whispers playfully.

You sigh in bliss as he massages your shoulders and nips at your ear.

After Jack gives you two orgasms on his fingers, you go to find Eric again.

You find the door to the band’s dressing room and knock politely. Eric opens the door, and a haze of smoke lingers in the room behind him.

“Oh, hey love,” he coughs. “I was jus’ gonna come find you.”

“Oh, I hope I’m not bothering you,” you falter.

“No, no, come on in,” he says, stepping to the side. You enter their dressing room. It’s a decent size. Teddy and Wes sit on a small couch while Donovan has one long leg thrown over the side of the armchair he’s occupying. Donovan’s sipping some kind of dark liquor out of a rocks glass. Wes and Teddy are smoking, and this time, you know it’s not a cigarette.

Another couch sits adjacent to the one Teddy and Wes are on, and you wander over to it. Your body still feels electrified from Jack’s touch, and you hope none of the boys notice the way your legs shake slightly as you sit down.

“Y’nervous?” Eric asks as he perches on the arm of the couch next to you. His gaze at this angle makes you blush; you’re not sure how much of your chest he can see from above you.

“A little,” you admit.

“Ah, you’ll be fuckin’ incredible,” he assures you. Wes passes him the joint and he takes a drag. He coughs on the smoke slightly as he exhales. “You smoke ‘fore a show?” he asks you, offering it.

“N-no, thanks,” you reply. “But, um…actually, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” he nods.

“Do you– I’m not trying to like, mooch off you guys or anything, but–”

Teddy leans forward towards you, holding out a perfectly rolled joint.

“Here, on the house,” he grins. You blush. You take it from him and hold it delicately.

“Have you…smoked before?” Eric asks, studying you now with a quizzical eye.

“Um, no…but I was wondering if…maybe after the show…?” you lilt.

Eric chokes on the inhale this time, pulling the joint from his lips. The boys snicker.

“Y-yeah, f’sure,” he mumbles. “Y’got a hotel room or somethin’?” he asks, leaning into you in an attempt at privacy. The others pretend not to be watching the two of you.

“Yeah,” you breathe quietly. “Can you, um…there’s just…there’s something I want to…ask you,” you insist. 

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, f’sure.”

“Thirty minute call!” the third stage manager barks, knocking on the boys’ door and startling all of you.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eric pipes up. You stand up from the couch.

“I’ll let you guys get ready,” you say coyly. Eric’s eyes wander up your legs until he hits the hem of your skirt, then snaps his attention back to your face.

“Sure,” he says in a daze.

“Come find me after the show?” you offer, drifting towards the door.

“Sure,” he repeats, still in a dreamy stupor, that’s really only partially due to the pot.

You smile and excuse yourself, heading back to your own dressing room to finish getting ready.

The boys all burst into laughter a few moments after you leave the room.

“What?!” Eric demands, blushing.

“Ooooh, Eric’s got a crush on a pop star,” Teddy taunts him.

“American girl, that could be good for your image,” Donovan smirks.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna do weird sex stuff with her and the bodyguard,” Wes laughs.

“Wh-fuck off,” Eric spits. “She’s just invited me over, she’s not shaggin’ the bodyguard.”

“Mate…” Donovan says solemnly.

“She is not!” he protests again.

“You saw ‘er stomp off after the soundcheck,” Wes reasons. “Then she’s with ‘im in the dressin’ room for an hour, she comes back, grinnin’ like she’s in a cigarette commercial, and invites’ you ‘round after the show? C’mon.” 

The room laughs at him one more time. Eric just takes another hit from the joint.

“Fuck off,” he chuckles finally.

You were a little nervous about the boys opening for you. Their sound was admittedly not quite the thing your typical audience would be into.

Their performance quickly assuaged any fears you’d had.

You watch them from a screen in your dressing room, not unlike the first time you’d met.

“Thank you!” Eric shouts into his microphone. Your fans, mostly young women, are going nuts for them. “We really appreciate you ‘aving us, on today of all days,” he jokes. 

“We’ve got one more song f’ya,” he shouts over the applause. As the cheering settles down, he drops his voice. “This next one is new. It’s about a girl…it’s called Honeybee.”

The boys launch into a boppy, bouncy song you’ve never heard before. Their guitars sound bright and bubbly, but Teddy’s drums still add their signature bold sound.

“Honeybee, feels like you were made for me,” Eric sings. You watch them dance and stomp around the stage, riling up the crowd.

“She’s drinkin’ sweet nectar from my flower,” he continues. Your cheeks feel hot at the suggestive lyrics of the song– and at the thinly veiled allusion to your nickname from Jack. “Can’t keep my hands off her, not for an hour.”

The song continues, and you and Jack watch the band on your small television. Wes and Eric start their usual routine of stage nonsense, circling and getting too close to each other.

“Honeybee, flyin’ free in my sunshine,” Eric continues, sweat dripping down his temple as he strums his guitar. “Please, baby, just say you wanna be mine.”

When the song concludes, the crowd erupts in cheers. The boys smile and wave to the audience, Teddy playfully jumping on Eric’s back. They stumble off stage, the crowd still cheering for them. 

Something inside of you does like performing after them; they bring a certain energy to the stage that you love chasing after. They push you to be the best performer you can be in those moments.

You have about 15 minutes before your set, as the roadies quickly break down the band’s instruments and set up for you. You can hear the boys whooping and laughing down the hall as they pass by your room. Your eyes dart over to Jack, whose cheeks are the faintest shade of pink.

“Well, they are good, I will admit,” he says quietly.

Back in your hotel room, you and Jack sit on the bed while Eric sits in an armchair across from you.

“Well I, um,” you start, unsure of what exactly to say. “I do like you. But this wouldn’t be romantic, it’s not really…um…”

“It would be purely sexual,” Jack clarifies, his tone completely neutral. Eric sits, stunned, eyes darting between the two of you.

“It’s just that, you. You know, you…”  You can’t quite put words on it.

“If you agree to it,” Jack clarifies, “It would be very controlled. Very clear, firm boundaries, to keep things comfortable for everyone.”

“What…what exactly does that mean?” Eric asks.

“It means the two of you could have a sexual relationship without it bleeding over into our romantic and sexual relationship,” Jack tries to explain.

“A ‘sexual relationship’…?”

“There’s only a few things we feel okay with, between the two of you,” Jack clarifies. “You can kiss her. You can touch her.”

“Touch her?”

“Where would you want him to touch you, honey?” Jack asks you, gently rubbing his thumb in circles over your shoulder. His gentle, grounding touch makes your brain feel functional again.

“You can touch my chest,” you squeak. “And…and you can touch me…down there, too.”

Eric’s cheeks turn bright red.

“Outside or inside, baby?” Jack muses.

“Both,” you reply, your own cheeks getting hot. Eric’s mouth feels dry hearing your request.

“How rough do you want him to be?” Jack prompts you again.

Rough? Eric thinks, his brows shooting up.

“Not too rough…” you start. “You can move me around, though.” 

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes on Eric. It’s so hard to ask for what you want.

Jack makes you go down your usual list with Eric, clarifying what’s allowed and what’s not: slapping, no, pinching, no, spitting, yes, restraint, only if we’ve already talked about it. 

After a few more minutes of negotiation, Jack feels better about the proposal. Eric’s jaw is still hanging slack with shock. Jack explains his conditions, too: right now, he wants to be present whenever you play with Eric– but he only wants to watch. 

“I don’t want to touch you while he’s touching you, okay?” Jack says softly. You crinkle your brows in confusion– and hurt. It stings a little bit. Jack doesn’t want to touch you? “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Jack coos. “I just– it’s just a boundary for me right now.”

He rolls his thumb over the skin on your knee. You nod. 

“Tell him your codeword,” Jack whispers to you.

“We use, um. Codewords. For if we want the other person to stop,” you explain. “Mine is Romeo.” 

Eric chuckles, the tension in the room finally getting to him.

“And what, yours is Juliet?” he asks Jack. Your eyes quickly dart over to Jack, who says nothing. Eric looks between the two of you.

“Well, call me Mercutio, fuck,” he says through nervous laughter.

“Well it’s actually not from–”

“Sure,” Jack replies. “That works.” He’s a little impressed that the young rockstar has enough knowledge of Shakespeare to make the reference. Jack clears his throat. “Are you interested?”

“Am I interested in shaggin’ your girlfriend–”

“Fiancée,” you correct.

Eric sits in stunned silence.

“Again,” Jack repeats, trying his best to stay level-headed and professional in the absurdity of the situation. “It wouldn’t really be romantic so much as it would be just…physical. I get that that’s…unconventional,” he continues. “But…you know. If you two like each other…I really don’t see any reason why we can’t…make something work.” 

Eric’s eyes dart between the two of you: Jack, his hand resting gently on your knee, his thumb pressing soft circles into your skin, and you, with your huge, pleading eyes, looking so devoutly at Jack…and then turning your gaze on Eric. 

His heart melts.

“Yeah…yeah, I mean…I could try it,” he says softly. “If y’think it won’t…y’know…be weird f’you.”

Jack glances at you. You look happy. 

“No,” Jack insists. “We want this.”

You look at him. He’s doing this for you. 

You lean up, wrap your arms around his neck, and kiss him sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Love you,” he whispers back. He leans back– as far as he can to put a little space between the two of you while your arms are still gently crossed behind his shoulders, tying him to you. “You want me to get her started?” Jack asks Eric. Eric blinks.

“Can I, uh…can I smoke in ‘ere?” he stammers. His accent is especially cute when he’s flustered.

“I don’t mind,” you pipe up. Jack raises his eyebrows as he glances at you. You watch as Eric’s trembling fingers dig out the crumpled carton of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one between his teeth and lighting up quickly. 

“Oh?” Jack counters lightly, in a tone that tells you he’s playing. “Did you know my dolly smokes cigarettes too?” he muses, rising to his feet. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out his silver cigarette case. He removes one and flips it between his fingers, offering it to you. You take it between your lips while Jack puts his case away and takes out his lighter. Eric takes a long drag of his own cigarette as he watches Jack light yours. 

Jack takes his time putting his lighter away, making you hold the cigarette for a just slightly uncomfortable amount of time. You stifle a cough before he reaches down and takes the cigarette from you, your lipstick painted in a bright red ring around the orange filter. Eric exhales a pointed stream of smoke at the sight of Jack taking the cigarette between his own teeth. Jack’s eyes land briefly on Eric and he grins before inhaling deeply.

“Thank you baby,” Jack coos, running a hand from the top of your head down the side of your face and cupping your chin gently. “You wanna see another trick she knows?” he asks Eric. 

Eric sits in silence, his breath coming and going quickly in the quiet room. He nervously ashes his cigarette in the ashtray on the small dresser next to him.

You sit on the edge of the bed, gently digging your toe into the carpet underneath your feet, eagerly awaiting Jack to give you a command. He smiles at you.

“Open,” he says plainly. You obey, dropping your jaw and sticking your tongue out, your eyes fixed on him. Eric inhales sharply. 

Jack grips your chin then leans forward and spits on your tongue. He doesn’t have to tell you to swallow.

“Fuck…” Eric mumbles. He heaves a breath and looks away, afraid he’ll go insane if he keeps staring at you. He ashes his cigarette again to have something to do.

“She’ll do anything you tell her to…isn’t that right, baby?” Jack teases you.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, nodding. 

“Are you ready to play with Eric?” Jack asks gently. Eric swallows. You nod. Jack turns his attention back to the rockstar. “Do you feel okay taking over?” he asks him. Eric nods this time and stands. Jack turns back to you.

“I’ll be right here the whole time, honey,” he tells you sweetly. He pats your knee gently, then steps back, looking at Eric. You turn your attention to him as he stands over you at the foot of the bed.

“You’re sure you want this?” he asks you in a hushed tone. You nod again, your cheeks warming slightly. He takes another drag off his cigarette as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“Yes, please,” you say in a tone so docile it almost makes him faint.

“Honey…” he breathes, thick smoke floating out between his lips.

“Eric,” you sigh, your breath lighter than a feather. You sit up on your knees and connect your lips, reaching up for him. You rest your hand against his hip to support yourself, and feel the vibration of him groaning against you.

“Baby,” he gasps when he finally pulls back. “You always this needy?”

“Tell me what to do,” you beg him gently. His gaze is hazy as he looks at you.

“Do?” he questions, stepping back to put out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Tell me what you want,” you press him. He still looks confused as he steps back to the bed, but he chuckles when you bring your hand back to his belt buckle. 

“God damn,” he grins. “How does your lit'le soldier boy keep you busy?”

You kiss him again, electrified from finally tasting him and from knowing that Jack is watching you. 

“God, feels so good jus’ kissin’ you,” he breathes, an earnestness in his voice straddling the line between affectionate and pathetic. He leans forward and kisses you again. You love how soft and warm he feels.

“What should I do?” you whisper between the kisses he’s still showering you with.

“Just lie back f’me, yeah?” he muses. He kneels on the bed as you lie down, then throws one knee over your midsection so he’s straddling you. “Good job.”

You blush. Eric leans down and kisses you again before bringing his hands to your chest and squeezing. You gasp against his mouth. He slowly strips you, unbuttoning your blouse and then your skirt. You shimmy it down your legs as Jack watches, still smoking his cigarette. The smoke feels good burning his lungs. He watches you blush and turn away as Eric presses a soft kiss to your tummy.

“Y’so sexy, love,” Eric mutters, discarding his own shirt. You roll your hips up towards him. “Y’want me t’touch you?” he whispers. You nod.

“Y-yes, please,” you beg. He brings one hand to your cunt and rubs you over your panties. You whine at the feeling of someone else, of Eric, touching you. It makes your heart flutter, especially knowing that Jack is standing just steps away from you, watching you squirm for him.

“Y’sound so pretty when y’make those lit’le noises,” he pants. “God, how are you so perfect?” 

Eric dips his fingers below your panties and finally, finally makes contact with you. He chuckles.

“Damn, y’always get wet this fast?” he teases gently. You can’t say anything as his touch catches your breath in your throat. He rubs torturously slow circles over your clit, already slick with your need.

“Er-Eric,” you pant. “C-can-mmph-can you–inside…” you beg.

A mischievous grin lights up Eric’s face as he helps you shimmy your panties down your legs. Jack watches, his whole body electrified from the look on your face as you choke on a moan while Eric pushes two fingers into you at once.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Eric huffs.

“D-don’t stop,” you cry. Eric brings his other hand back to continue playing with your clit.

“This whole time, this is what gets you off, love?” he chuckles. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment– but it feels good coming from Eric. “This is what you wanted, my fingers inside’a you while he watches?” he grins, nodding towards Jack.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers in desperation.

“How many can y’take?” he asks you breathlessly.

“Y-you-ah-you can p-put one m-ore,” you stutter.

Eric adds a third finger to your cunt and the sound that fills the room makes you turn your head away from him.

“Oh, look’a that,” he beams. “Good job, honeybee,” he purrs.

You cry out as Eric taps that spot inside of you over and over that has your head going fuzzy.

“You’re right on the fuckin’ edge, babe, ‘member?” he says, his voice syrupy sweet as he plants a kiss on your mouth. You whimper, your hips desperately chasing his touch. “Say it.”

“I’m-agh! I’m right on the fucking edge,” you whine.

“Can I make you cum?” he whispers to you. 

“Puh-please!” you sob. Eric turns over his shoulder, tossing his sweaty hair from his eyes, looking at Jack.

“Can I make her cum?” he asks breathlessly. Jack takes a long drag on his cigarette and nods silently as he exhales.

Eric continues his movements, pumping his fingers in and out of you with that same wet noise that makes your cheeks burn. You can’t believe it. You met him about a month ago, and now he’s making you cum on his fingers.

“Betcha sound pretty when you cum, honey,” he encourages you. “That gorgeous voice sounds just as good when you’re screamin’, huh?”

You’re breathless and panting when he kisses you again. You grab onto his shoulders as you cry out, your legs shaking as Eric continues the relentless pace of his fingers. Jack can feel himself getting hard as he watches you cum.

Eric slowly pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean. He hums, satisfied.

“Taste so good, too, baby,” he smiles at you before bringing his hand back down to your folds.

Jack watches your face contort in overwhelming pleasure as Eric continues to rub you. He loves seeing you all squirmy and bothered, and the sensation is somehow elevated by being a third party observer to your pleasure.

A moan gets caught in your throat and dissolves into a gasp.

“Ja-aaaack,” you whine.

“What is it, honey?” Jack muses, taking a step closer to you. You reach out for him.

“C-can, can I have a kiss?” you whimper.

“Not while you’re playing with Eric, sweetheart,” he says in a level tone. Eric slows his motions, watching Jack carefully.

“Why not?” you pout.

“Yellow, honey,” he whispers to you, crouching down by your face so he’s eye level with you. He can see the transfixed, far off look in your eye. “Come back to me now…”

You blink yourself out of the deep haze that’s settled over your mind just enough to feel present again. Jack sees your attention shift, sharpen.

“Don’t fight me on a boundary…okay?” he asks you quietly. There’s not a touch of anger in his voice; just clarity. You nod.

“You, then…can I have you?” you pant. You know it’s not the full thought. He’s still going to make you clarify that you want him to hold you and kiss you and call you a good girl. But for now, those are the only words you can get out.

Eric started to back off the second Jack knelt down, removing his hand from your center and instead just running his hands along your inner thighs soothingly.

“You can have me, baby,” he tells you gently. “But you have to tell Eric what you want, too.”

You nod and turn back to the sweaty, shirtless rockstar standing between your legs. His hair, damp with sweat, is partially covering his eyes.

“Can we…take a break?” you ask, still breathless. He grins and nods at you.

“Course, love,” he says gently. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Mmhm,” you nod. “I’m just– it’s a lot,” you pant.

“I know it is, love, I know,” he says soothingly. “Did so good, darling.”

He gently cups his hands around your knees and supports your legs as you weakly bring your knees back together. Being stretched for so long has made your thighs feel like jelly, and you’re grateful that he helps you close yourself off a bit, offering a type of ending to the scene, before he steps back from the bed. 

You turn back to Jack and he leans in and gently kisses you. 

“What is it, honey?” he coos. 

“Can you hold me?” you whisper. Jack chuckles and stands, walking around the bed to get in with you. He wraps his arms around your waist as you wiggle closer to him. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“What is it, baby?” he asks you. “Everything okay?”

Your heart flutters hearing Jack’s voice so soft in your ear. You nod.

“Mmhm,” you mumble. “Just wanted you for this part.”

He laughs again and rubs a hand down your back. Eric has stepped out onto the fire escape, and the faintest hint of his cigarette drifts back into the room. It feels good to hold onto Jack, to feel grounded by him.

“You ready to be done?” he dotes, his hand still stroking your back with a soothing repetitiveness. 

“Mmhm,” you nod again. 

“Okay, baby, we can be done,” he comforts you. “You did so good, honey.”

You smile contentedly.

“How did you like playing with Eric?” he asks you softly.

“I liked it,” you admit quietly. “But I…I really liked knowing that you were here, too.”

Jack hums.

“Did you like…watching?” you whisper.

“I did,” he says in a low voice. You sigh as he holds you a little tighter. It feels so good to be close to Jack, folded in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body.

“Do you think…we could keep doing this?” you ask in a small voice.

“I think we could make this work, honey,” Jack muses. You smile and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. “I think we could make this work,” he repeats.

You drift off to hazy memories of Jack’s arms and Eric’s lips. One of them gets you a glass of water. You’re not sure who it is. Your body is still exhausted from the show, not to mention the activities of the last hour. 

At some point, you stir, rolling over towards the hotel window. Jack and Eric are out on the fire escape, talking quietly and smoking. Jack looks over his shoulder at you, and you pretend to still be asleep. His words echo in your mind.

We could make this work.