. S O L A R I .

PAGE 17 . for someone whose career has been built under an endless spotlight, luna wears white with surprising ease.

the singer graces the cover of vogue korea’s annual bridal issue in a story that feels less like a fashion editorial and more like a quiet celebration of the woman she has become. across the spread, luna moves effortlessly through an enviable collection of couture, wearing custom dior, archival chanel haute couture, vivienne westwood bridal, elie saab, giambattista valli haute couture, oscar de la renta, schiaparelli, and miss sohee, each gown capturing a different interpretation of modern romance. one moment she’s wrapped in layers of delicate tulle beneath the afternoon sun, the next she’s standing barefoot inside an old european-style estate, dressed in structured vivienne westwood corsetry with a cathedral-length veil trailing behind her. rather than feeling like she’s trying on dresses, it almost feels as though the dresses were waiting for her.

“it’s funny,” luna laughs during the interview. “i’ve worn wedding dresses for photoshoots, music videos and other projects before, but this one felt… different.”

q. different how?

“i don’t know if it’s because of where i am in life now, but i caught myself smiling between takes without realizing it. everyone kept asking me what i was thinking about.” she pauses. “i guess i was just excited.”

naturally, the conversation turns toward the next chapter of her life.

the timing of the feature has only fueled speculation, especially with her long-awaited wedding to band member seventeen’s jeonghan drawing closer following his military discharge earlier this year. although luna carefully avoids confirming any specific details, she doesn’t exactly deny that the coming months will be busy.

“the next few months are going to be really special,” she admits with a grin. “there are a lot of things we’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

when asked whether wedding preparations have finally become real after nearly two years of waiting, luna lets out another laugh.

“i think we’ve been preparing in different ways for almost two years already. military service changes your timeline a little. you learn to be patient without really having a choice. so when he came home, it wasn’t like we were starting from zero. it felt like we were finally allowed to continue.”

she quickly catches herself before saying too much.

“i have to stop talking before i spoil something.”

one thing she has no problem discussing, however, is fiancé jeonghan’s involvement.

despite his notoriously relaxed image, luna reveals that her fiancé has been unexpectedly hands-on throughout the planning process.

“he’s very opinionated,” she says, laughing. “people think he just nods and lets me decide everything, but that’s absolutely not true. he notices tiny details i would’ve missed. sometimes he’ll send me pictures of flowers or table settings out of nowhere and ask, ‘what about this?’”

she smiles before adding, “he’s having just as much fun as i am.”

according to luna, the process has never felt stressful.

“i think that’s because we’re doing everything together. whenever one of us gets overwhelmed, the other reminds us why we’re doing it in the first place.”

when asked whether she has a favorite part of planning with her soon-to-be husband, luna thinks quietly before answering.

“i like the small moments the most. the conversations after meetings. driving home together. looking at ideas on the couch until one of us falls asleep. those are probably the memories i’ll treasure the most.”

of course, no bridal interview would be complete without asking about the dress.

or, more accurately…

the dress.

luna immediately shakes her head. “i knew you were going to ask that.”

q. can you tell us anything?

“only that i stopped changing my mind.”

q. so you’ve already chosen?

she smiles without answering. “let’s just say… i’m very happy.”

throughout the interview, luna remains careful not to reveal too much, often catching herself just before giving away another detail. more than once, she laughs and says, “you’ll know soon,” before steering the conversation somewhere safer. it’s enough to satisfy vogue, but just vague enough to leave everyone else guessing.

as the afternoon comes to a close and the final veil is carefully lifted away, luna takes one last look at herself in the mirror.

“i’ve always believed weddings are about more than one day,” she says softly. “they’re about everything that brought you there. every year. every sacrifice. every ordinary moment that quietly became part of your forever.”

she smiles again. “i think we’re finally getting there.”

whether that “there” is weeks away or months away remains anyone’s guess. if luna knows the answer, she’s keeping it to herself.

for now.

PAGE 18 . ever since completing his military service, jeonghan has quietly settled back into public life in the most jeonghan way possible: slowly, casually, and just often enough to keep fans guessing.

from surprise instagram uploads to spontaneous weverse posts and relaxed late-night lives, he’s been noticeably more active online, dropping in whenever he feels like it rather than following any sort of schedule. his most recent weverse live on july 15 was no different. lasting just under an hour, the broadcast felt less like a planned event and more like a conversation between old friends, with jeonghan chatting comfortably about his daily routine, life after enlistment, recent meals, catching up with the members, and adjusting to being back in the spotlight.

naturally, it didn’t take long before the questions everyone wanted answered began flooding the comments.

q. “have you been busy lately?”

jeonghan smiled before nodding. “very busy.” he laughed almost immediately afterward, as if realizing how suspicious that sounded. “i’ve been going out a lot more recently. there are a lot of appointments these days.”

q. “what kind?”

“i don’t think i can say.”

cue the comments moving approximately one hundred miles per hour.

reading them aloud, jeonghan could only laugh. “you guys really connect everything. i mean…” he paused, smiling to himself. “you wouldn’t be wrong to think the next few months are going to be busy.”

although he carefully avoided saying the word “wedding” even once, fans were quick to notice how often his answers naturally drifted toward the future. every time someone asked about travel plans, schedules, or upcoming projects, jeonghan answered in broad strokes, never revealing enough to confirm anything, but never quite shutting the conversation down either.

“we’ve been preparing for a long time,” he admitted at one point. “it feels nice that everything is finally happening.”

when another fan jokingly asked if he was talking about music, jeonghan simply grinned. “maybe.”

the conversation softened when viewers began asking about luna.

jeonghan’s expression immediately changed as he quietly answered, “she’s good.” he could have left it there, but instead added, “she’s been happier lately. i think waiting for two years teaches you to appreciate the little things.”

it was one of the most sincere moments of the evening, and fans immediately connected it to the nearly two years the couple spent waiting through his military service before finally being able to continue planning their future together. almost realizing he’d become a little too sentimental, jeonghan laughed to himself and covered his face for a moment. “i’ve already said too much.”

naturally, the comments only became more relentless. asked whether luna had been just as busy as he was, he nodded without hesitation. “very.” when fans pressed further, asking what exactly she’d been doing, all he would offer was a mischievous smile and a simple, “things.” even after hundreds of comments begged him for a hint, he refused to budge, laughing as he repeated, “i really can’t tell you… you’ll know soon.”

later in the broadcast, another fan pointed out that both he and luna seemed to be disappearing from the public more often lately.

jeonghan chuckled at the observation before clarifying, “we’re not disappearing.” after a small pause, he smiled and corrected himself. “we’re just… occupied.” naturally, the chat immediately demanded to know with what, but he only laughed again and replied, “i knew someone was going to ask that. i’ll let jiyeonie tell you when she’s ready.”

it was a simple sentence, but one that immediately reignited speculation online. coming just days after luna’s vogue korea bridal issue, where she similarly described the coming months as “very special” while carefully avoiding specifics, fans couldn’t help but notice how perfectly the two stories lined up. neither confirmed anything outright, yet somehow both managed to hint at exactly the same thing.

toward the end of the live, one final question caught his attention. someone asked whether he was excited for whatever was coming next in terms with his future with luna.

jeonghan didn’t answer immediately. instead, he smiled the kind of smile fans know all too well, the one that usually means he’s about to dodge the question. after letting the silence linger for just a moment, he quietly admitted, “i’ve waited a long time.” then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “so has she.”

with that, he thanked everyone for spending the evening with him, wished fans a good night, and ended the broadcast before anyone could squeeze another answer out of him.

he said plenty and he confirmed nothing.

naturally, the internet is calling it his most suspicious live yet.

████ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌. 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾.

████ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌, 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝗁𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇. . . 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾:

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: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - selఌ

Jack saw Shen before he saw the drink. That was his first mistake. Shen walking into the emergency department was not unusual. Shen walking into the emergency department with that particular expression on his face was.

Too calm. Too neutral. Too deliberately innocent.

Jack narrowed his eyes from the other side of the nurses’ station.

Then he saw what Shen was carrying.

For one brief and terrible second, Jack thought it was medical equipment.

Then he saw the ice. Then he saw the straw.

Then he saw your face light up like Shen had walked in carrying a diamond ring, a rescue puppy, and a winning lottery ticket.

“Oh my god,” you said, already abandoning your chart. “You got it.”

Shen set the container on the counter with the solemn care of a man presenting evidence in court. “Blueberry Cobbler Iced Latte. Forty-eight ounces.”

You pressed both hands to your chest. “John.”

Jack looked at the bucket. Then he looked at Shen. Then he looked at you.

“No,” Jack said.

You turned toward him, smiling. “You don’t even know what this is.”

“I know enough,” Jack replied. 

“It’s the bucket,” you said, like that explained anything.

“It is not a bucket,” Shen said.

Jack stared at him. “It absolutely is.”

“It’s a beverage vessel.” Shen corrected. 

Jack stared at him. “It has a handle.”

“That doesn’t make it a bucket,” Shen grumbled. 

You leaned over the counter and kissed Shen’s cheek. Jack went still. Shen went very still, too, but not because he was nervous.

No.

Because he knew.

Jack watched Shen’s mouth twitch once before he smoothed his expression back into something infuriatingly calm.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly.

Shen nodded. “Of course.”

Jack pointed between you and Shen. “Don’t love that.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“The cheek kiss,” Jack answered. 

Shen looked down at the drink. “It was a gratitude kiss.”

Jack’s eyes shifted to him. “Dunkin.”

Shen’s brows lifted. “Is that me?”

Jack nodded once, “It is now.”

You pressed your lips together. Jack knew that face. He loved that face. He also knew that face meant you were about thirty seconds away from making his life worse on purpose.

“Jack,” you said gently.

“No,” Jack said. “You don’t get to ‘Jack’ me when Dunkin just walked in with forty-eight ounces of sugar and got kissed for it.”

Shen glanced down at the container. “It does have two straws.”

“That makes it worse,” Jack replied. 

You picked up one of the straws with reverent fingers. “It’s for sharing.”

“With your boyfriend?” Jack said, jerking his head in John’s direction. 

You smiled. “With my work husband.”

Jack’s jaw tightened. There it was. Shen took one small, thoughtful step closer to you, like a man approaching a live wire just to see what would happen.

Jack watched him do it. He watched you notice. He watched both of you decide, silently and instantly, to be problems.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Your what?”

“My work husband,” you said, very seriously.

Shen nodded once. “It’s an administrative title.”

“Administrative,” Jack repeated.

“Very little romance involved,” Shen said.

Jack stared at him. “Very little?”

You touched Jack’s chest. “Jack, be fair. John and I have survived a lot together.”

“Long shifts,” Shen said.

“Bad coffee,” you added.

“Printer failures,” Shen said.

“The cafeteria meatloaf incident,” you said.

Shen’s expression darkened. “We don’t discuss that.”

You nodded. “Out of respect for the dead.”

Jack looked between the two of you and inhaled slowly through his nose. 

He was a grown man. A physician. A professional. He had handled trauma bays, impossible calls, mass casualties, and patients who thought WebMD had more authority than medical school. He was not going to let two adults and a container of dessert coffee dismantle him in the middle of his emergency department.

You slid the bucket toward Shen. “First sip goes to the provider.”

Jack’s head turned. “Provider?”

“He provided the bucket,” you said.

Shen took the straw with grave dignity. “I accept this responsibility.”

Jack watched him take a sip.

You leaned in, eyes bright. “Well?”

Shen considered it for a moment. “Sweet.”

You nodded. “Expected.”

“Artificial blueberry,” Shen said.

“But fun artificial?” You asked.

Shen took another sip. “Aggressively fun.”

You pointed at him. “That’s what I thought.”

Jack stared. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

You gave Jack a look, “I know John’s palate.”

Jack went still again.

Shen lowered the straw. “You walked into that one.”

“I did not walk into anything,” Jack said.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Are you jealous of John’s palate?”

“No,” Jack replied immediately. 

Shen tilted his head. “He seems jealous of my palate.”

Jack pointed at him. “You are on thin ice.”

“Appropriate,” Shen said, glancing at the bucket. “Given the beverage.”

You made a sound like you were trying not to choke.

Jack looked down at you. “Do not laugh at that.”

You covered your mouth. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Jack said.

You pointed to Shen and said, “I’m being supportive of my work husband’s humor.”

Jack stared at you. You smiled sweetly.

Shen leaned slightly toward you. “I feel supported.”

Jack closed his eyes.

Not yet, he told himself. It is too early in this shift to ask God for intervention.

When he opened them, you were holding the straw toward him.

“Try it,” you said.

Jack shook his head, “No.”

“One sip.” You implored. 

Jack’s brow furrowed. “I already know I’m going to hate it.”

“That’s not very scientific,” Shen said.

Jack didn’t look away from you. “Dunkin, I am not discussing the scientific method with you over a bucket of sugar milk.”

You lifted the straw another inch. “For me?”

Jack looked at your face. That was unfair. Everything about your face was unfair. He sighed like a man accepting his own execution, leaned down, and took the smallest sip possible. His face changed immediately.

You brightened. “Well?”

Jack swallowed with effort. It was worse than he expected. It was sweet in a way that felt personally aggressive. It tasted like someone had taken a blueberry muffin, drowned it in melted ice cream, panicked, and added more sugar.

Jack looked at both of you. “Well, that’s horrific.”

You gasped. “Jack.”

Jack grimaced, “It tastes like someone liquefied a blueberry muffin, panicked, and added more sugar.”

Shen took the bucket back and considered that. “Not inaccurate.”

You pointed at him. “Do not side with my actual boyfriend against me.”

Jack’s head turned. Actual boyfriend. That helped. He hated that it helped. 

He was not jealous of John Shen. He was not jealous of the drink. He was not jealous of the cheek kiss, the work husband title, or the fact that Shen apparently had a detailed working knowledge of your coffee preferences. Jack was simply opposed to nonsense.

That was all.

You smiled up at him. “Yes. Actual boyfriend.”

Shen lifted one hand. “Work husband acknowledges the hierarchy.”

Jack looked at him. “Temporary husband.”

Shen blinked. “I don’t remember agreeing to temporary.”

“You don’t need to agree,” Jack replied. 

Shen frowned, “I feel like I should.”

“You shouldn’t,” Jack said.

You took the bucket back from Shen. “For legal accuracy, the arrangement is currently suspended.”

Jack looked down at you. “The arrangement.”

You nodded solemnly. “Until further notice.”

“Or forty,” Shen added.

Jack’s gaze moved slowly back to him. “Excuse me?”

Shen took a careful breath, like he was about to present lab results. “If neither of us is married by the time we are forty, we’ve agreed to enter a mutually beneficial domestic partnership.”

You nodded. “For practical reasons.”

Jack stared at you.

“Tax benefits,” you said.

“Shared expenses,” Shen added.

“Emergency contact efficiency,” you said.

“Mutual tolerance,” Shen added.

Jack looked between you. “You rehearsed that.”

You and Shen said, “No,” at the exact same time.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. You smiled. Shen sipped the drink.

Jack looked toward the ceiling.

Dear God, he thought, then stopped himself. Not yet. He could still handle this.

“You’re not single,” Jack said.

You patted his chest. “I know.”

“So the pact is void.” Jack continued. 

Shen lifted one finger. “Suspended.”

Jack pointed at him. “Void.”

“Suspend—”

“Void.” Jack cut him off. 

You sighed softly. “This is a difficult day for the marriage.”

Shen nodded. “We’ll need time to heal.”

Jack stared at the two of you. “Marriage.”

“Future potential marriage,” you clarified.

Jack frowned, “Not better.”

Ellis, who had been pretending not to listen from two feet away, slowly lowered her chart.

“Do I want to know?” Ellis asked.

“No,” Jack said.

“Yes,” you and Shen said together.

Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him, bright and delighted and absolutely unrepentant.

Ellis’s eyes landed on the bucket. “Is that coffee?”

“Allegedly,” Jack said.

Shen lifted the container. “Blueberry Cobbler Iced Latte. Forty-eight ounces.”

Ellis blinked. “That sounds disgusting.”

Jack pointed at her. “Thank you.”

You gasped. “Ellis.”

Ellis glanced at Jack’s face, then at Shen, then at you. “Why does this feel like I walked in on something personal?”

“Because you did,” Jack said.

Shen shook his head. “It’s not personal. It’s a product review.”

Jack looked at him. “You announced a suspended marriage pact.”

Ellis’s face lit up. “A what?”

You waved a hand. “It’s not active.”

“Not active,” Shen agreed.

Jack’s eyes shifted to him.

“Void,” Shen corrected.

Ellis blinked. “Do you two have paperwork?”

You nodded solemnly. “A shared note.”

Shen added, “Reviewed annually.”

Jack looked at him. “You have annual paperwork?”

“To assess the health of the union,” Shen said.

“Coffee compatibility,” you said.

“Update emergency contact information,” Shen added.

“Long-term tax strategy,” you finished.

Jack stared at you. “You’re making that up.”

You and Shen said, “No,” at the exact same time.

Jack’s eyes narrowed.

Ellis looked delighted. “What else is in the paperwork?”

Jack pointed at her. “Do not encourage them.”

Shen cleared his throat. “There is the intimacy clause.”

Jack went completely still. Ellis’s chart lowered another inch.

“The what?” Jack asked.

“The intimacy clause,” you said, very seriously.

Shen nodded. “One night of passionate lovemaking per calendar year to maintain the marriage.”

Jack stared at him.

You nodded along solemnly. “For the health of the union.”

“And morale,” Shen added.

Jack’s head turned toward you. “Morale.”

“It’s important,” you said.

“Vital,” Shen agreed.

Jack pointed at the bucket. “Dunkin.”

Shen blinked. “Yes?”

“Never use the phrase ‘passionate lovemaking’ in a sentence about my girlfriend again.”

Shen considered him. “Would ‘annual intimacy maintenance’ be better?”

Jack looked at him, “No.”

You pressed your lips together. “Less romantic.”

Jack looked down at you. “You are not helping.”

“I’m grieving the clause,” you said.

Jack stared at you.

Ellis made a strangled sound behind her chart.

Shen took a slow sip from the bucket. “This is difficult for all parties.”

Jack closed his eyes. Dear God, grant me patience, Jack thought. Because if you grant me strength, Shen is not making it out of this emergency department.

Then Shen set the bucket down and hooked an arm around your shoulders. You did not miss a beat. You slid your arm around Shen’s waist and leaned into his side with a grave little nod. “Privacy would be appreciated during this difficult transition.”

Jack opened his eyes. Ellis’s mouth opened slightly.

Jack pointed between you and Shen. “Separate.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Immediately,” Jack said.

Shen looked down at you. "Our bond threatens him.”

“I am threatened by nothing,” Jack said.

You patted Shen’s stomach. “It’s okay. He’s processing.”

Jack’s jaw flexed. “You have three seconds.”

Shen’s arm stayed exactly where it was. “Before what?”

Jack smiled.

It was not a nice smile.

Shen removed his arm.

You removed yours too, biting your lip hard enough that Jack could see the fight not to laugh all over your face.

“Smart,” Jack said.

Shen picked up the bucket again. “For the record, that separation felt hostile.”

Jack looked at him. “Good.”

You let the moment hang for exactly one second. Then you slid right into Jack’s side, your body fitting against his like that was where you had meant to be the whole time.

Jack’s eyes dropped to you.

Your smile went soft and wicked at the same time. “Better?”

Jack held your gaze. He was still annoyed. He was still trying not to look pleased. He was still failing.

“Marginally,” he said.

You hummed and smoothed your hands over his scrub top. “Only marginally?”

His hand settled at your waist before he could pretend he wasn’t going to touch you. “You’re pushing it, sweetheart.”

You grinned. “Don’t worry, Jack. You’re hotter than him.”

Shen’s head lifted. “Rude.”

Jack didn’t look away from you. “Dunkin.”

“Yes?” Shen replied. 

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Drink your muffin soup.”

You laughed into Jack’s chest. His mouth twitched despite himself, and his hand tightened gently at your waist.

“Better,” he admitted, quieter this time.

Ellis finally gave up pretending she was working. “Can I try the divorce coffee?”

Jack’s eyes shifted to her. For the first time since Shen walked in, Jack looked almost pleased.

“Divorce coffee,” he repeated.

You brightened. “Oh, that’s good.”

Shen nodded. “Accurate, but emotionally painful.”

“It is not emotionally painful,” Jack said. “It’s legally clarifying.”

Ellis held out a hand. “So can I try it?”

“Don’t,” Jack warned.

“Yes,” you and Shen said together.

Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him, bright and delighted. Jack looked at the bucket. Then at Shen. Then at you. Then he exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Okay,” Jack said.

You blinked. “Okay?”

Jack nodded toward the other end of the nurses’ station. “You’re coming with me.”

Your mouth fell open, offended and delighted at the same time. “What?”

“I have been very patient,” Jack said.

“You have,” you said solemnly.

He continued, “I tried the muffin soup.”

“You did.” You agreed. 

“I tolerated the cheek kiss,” Jack added. 

You nodded, “You did.”

“I tolerated the work husband,” Jack said, almost with a grimace.

“Barely,” Shen said.

Jack pointed at him without looking away from you. “Temporary husbands do not get commentary.”

Shen nodded. “Understood.”

Jack looked back at you. “And now I’m taking my girlfriend ten feet that way so I can remember why I love her without Shen making tax comments.”

You glanced back at Shen, then at the bucket in his hand. Your face went dramatically mournful. 

“No,” you whispered. “My husband. My coffee.”

Jack went completely still. Ellis made a sound behind her chart.

Shen looked down at you with grave sympathy. “I’ll miss you.”

Jack’s head turned slowly toward him. “Dunkin.”

Shen lifted one hand. “Right. Sorry.”

You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking.

Jack looked down at you. “You are walking away with me, or I am confiscating the coffee.”

Your eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would,” Jack replied. 

You frowned, “You hate it.”

“I hate many things about this situation,” Jack said. “That has not stopped me yet.”

Shen hugged the bucket closer to his chest. “For the record, I object to seizure of communal property.”

“It is not communal property,” Jack said.

“It’s divorce coffee,” Ellis said.

Jack pointed at her. “Helpful.”

Ellis smiled. “Thank you.”

You slid your hand into Jack’s. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Jack’s fingers closed around yours. “Thank you.”

“But under protest.” You added. 

Jack nodded once, “Noted.”

“And I want visitation rights.” You said. 

Jack looked at you. “To Shen or the coffee?”

You looked genuinely torn. Jack’s eyes narrowed.

“The coffee,” you said quickly.

Shen nodded. “Hurtful, but wise.”

Jack tugged gently on your hand. “Move.”

You let Jack lead you away, still laughing under your breath. Halfway down the nurses’ station, you glanced back over your shoulder.

Shen mouthed, I miss you.

You coughed to hide your laugh.

Jack stopped walking. You froze.

He looked down at you. “What did he do?”

You replied quickly. “Nothing.” 

Jack turned. Shen looked immediately busy with a chart, one hand still wrapped around the bucket.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Dunkin.”

Shen did not look up. “Yes?”

“Do not make me come back there.”

Shen nodded, still not looking up. “Of course.”

Jack stared for another second, then turned back to you. You smiled up at him, innocent and hopelessly pleased. Jack shook his head, but his hand squeezed yours.

“You’re trouble,” he said.

Your smile brightened. “You love me.”

“I do,” Jack said.

You stepped closer, sliding your free hand up his chest again. “And I love you.”

Jack’s irritation loosened instantly. He hated how fast it happened.

No, he didn’t.

He loved it. Loved the way you could tug him out of himself with three words and one hand on his chest. Loved the way you smiled at him like he was exactly where you wanted to be, like Shen and the coffee and every ridiculous thing you had said were only funny because Jack was there to react to them.

“Even if John brings me forty-eight ounces of coffee,” you said.

Jack’s mouth twitched.

“Even if he’s my work husband.” You continued. 

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Former work husband,” you corrected.

Jack nodded once, “Better.”

You smiled and rose onto your toes, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re my actual everything.”

Jack went very still.

Behind you, Shen called, “Rude.”

Jack didn’t look away from you. For once, he didn’t even answer Shen. His hand slid more firmly around your waist, and his voice dropped low enough that only you could hear it.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Yeah.”

Jack’s expression softened completely. Then he dipped his head and kissed you, quick but warm, like he couldn’t help it. When he pulled back, he looked almost annoyed with himself for melting so fast.

You grinned. “Better?”

Jack exhaled, thumb brushing once at your waist. “Much better,” he said.

By the time the nachos hit the table, Jack already knew the night was going to become a problem. Not a real problem. Not a medical problem, a staffing problem, or the kind of emergency department problem that required gloves, pressure, and someone yelling for another unit of blood. A you and Shen problem.

Which, in Jack’s professional opinion, was often worse.

It was rare enough for the night shift crew to have the same night off that everyone had treated the plan like a minor miracle. No one was in scrubs. No one was holding a chart. No one had a pager clipped to their waistband. For once, the five of you were tucked into the back corner of a bar instead of circling the nurses’ station under fluorescent lights, loose-limbed and hungry and pretending you had not all checked the department group chat at least twice.

The booth was large enough for everyone to fit and small enough for everyone to steal from the same plates. Nachos sat in the middle of the table, already half-destroyed. A basket of wings had migrated toward Crus. Fries were scattered across three napkins, and the cheese curds were disappearing at a rate Jack found medically concerning.

Ellis had claimed the outside edge of the booth with a drink in one hand and a fry in the other, already looking too pleased with herself for anyone’s safety. Crus sat beside her, close enough to the wings to defend them and far enough from responsibility to deny involvement in anything that happened next.

Shen sat across from you, calm and composed, his sleeves pushed to his forearms and an espresso martini in front of him like he had come to the bar for hydration, judgment, and legally questionable caffeine.

You had one too.

Jack had noticed. He had also noticed the way you and Shen had ordered them at the same time without discussing it, which apparently meant something to Ellis, because she had stared at both glasses for a full three seconds before looking at Jack with open delight.

Jack ignored her. He was trying very hard not to reward the behavior.

You were tucked into Jack’s side on the opposite bench, your thigh pressed against his, his arm stretched along the back of the booth behind you. His hand rested near your shoulder, fingers loose and warm, not quite holding you in place. He did not need to. You had settled against him like you belonged there.

Jack liked that.

He liked it a dangerous amount.

Ellis pointed between your glass and Shen’s. “Do you two always order the same drink?”

“No,” you said.

“Yes,” Shen said at the same time.

Jack looked down at you. You lifted one shoulder. “We’re sluts for coffee.”

Jack closed his eyes.

Crus made a choking sound into his beer.

Shen considered the phrase. “Crude, but not inaccurate.”

Jack opened his eyes and looked at him. “Do not agree with her when she says things like that.”

Shen lifted his espresso martini. “I believe in precision.”

“You believe in making my life worse,” Jack said.

Shen paused. “Also accurate.”

You smiled into your drink and took a sip. Jack’s thumb brushed once against your shoulder, a quiet warning or a quiet admission that he was already losing. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. Across the table, Shen reached for a cheese curd at the same time you did. Your fingers bumped over the basket.

You both stopped.

Jack looked down.

Shen looked up.

You looked at Shen.

For one brief, terrible second, the two of you held eye contact like a treaty was being negotiated.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t,” he said.

You turned your head toward him, innocent. “Don’t what?”

Jack looked pointedly at your hand, still hovering near Shen’s over the cheese curds. “Whatever this is.”

Shen withdrew his hand by one inch. “Appetizer coordination?”

“You know that is not what I mean,” Jack said.

Crus leaned forward. “No, wait. Let them do it. I want to see where it goes.”

Ellis nodded, already smiling. “Same.”

You pressed closer to Jack’s side and stole the cheese curd first. “Nothing is happening.”

Shen picked up the next one. “Agreed.”

Jack looked between you. “That’s worse.”

You bit into the cheese curd to hide your smile. Ellis watched the three of you for another second, then set her drink down with purpose. “Okay. I have a question.”

Jack exhaled through his nose. “No.”

Ellis looked at him. “I didn’t ask it yet.”

“I know where this is going,” Jack said.

Crus grinned and dragged the wings closer. “I don’t. Ask it.”

Ellis leaned her elbows onto the table and looked between you and Shen. “I still don’t understand the work husband thing.”

Shen’s expression did not change. Yours brightened.

Jack felt it happen against his side. “No,” he said again.

You patted his thigh under the table. “It’s fine.”

“It has never been fine,” Jack said.

Shen folded his hands on the table. “That is subjective.”

Jack pointed at him. “Dunkin.”

Shen looked mildly resigned. “There it is.”

Ellis ignored them both and focused on you. “I need the timeline.”

“The timeline?” you asked.

“Yes,” Ellis said. “Were you two always like this, or did the ED do this to you?”

Crus lifted his drink. “Important question.”

Shen considered that. “The ED accelerated preexisting conditions.”

Jack turned his head slowly. “Preexisting conditions?”

You nodded. “Mutual stubbornness.”

“Poor sleep hygiene,” Shen added.

“Unreasonable confidence in hospital coffee,” you said.

“Poor emotional disclosure,” Shen continued.

You pointed at him. “That was mostly you.”

Shen looked at you. “You cried in a supply closet and called it allergies.”

Jack’s hand stilled behind your shoulder. For half a second, the table quieted.

Then you pointed your cheese curd at Shen. “That is privileged friendship information.”

Ellis’s eyes widened. “Supply closet?”

Crus sat forward. “Crying?”

Jack looked down at you, his voice softer than it had been a moment before. “You cried in a supply closet?”

You glanced up at him. “It was before you.”

That did not make Jack like it more. It only made something in his chest pull tight and quiet. Shen noticed. Shen noticed everything inconvenient.

“It was early in her night shift tenure,” Shen said, evenly. “She had been yelled at by three families, one drunk patient, and a man who tried to remove his own IV because he believed the saline was government tracking fluid.”

Crus nodded slowly. “Classic.”

You looked at Shen. “And the cafeteria had run out of fries.”

Shen nodded once. “A significant contributing factor.”

Jack’s mouth twitched despite himself.

Ellis looked between you. “So Shen found you crying?”

“I was not crying,” you said.

Shen looked at Jack. “She was crying.”

You turned back to him. “I was having a private emotional reset.”

“In a supply closet,” Shen said.

“Exactly,” you replied. “Private.”

Shen picked up his water. “It was a public supply closet.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Shen took a drink. Jack watched the exchange, his hand moving from the back of the booth to your shoulder. His fingers brushed there once, gentle and grounding. You felt it. He knew you did, because your body softened almost instantly into his side.

Ellis leaned closer. “What did you do?”

Shen set his glass down. “I needed gauze.”

Crus blinked. “That’s what you did?”

“I got gauze,” Shen said.

You rolled your eyes. “He opened the door, found me crying—”

“Emotionally resetting,” Shen corrected.

You pointed at him. “Do not use my words against me.”

Shen tilted his head. “Then use better ones.”

Jack looked at him. “Dunkin.”

Shen glanced at Jack. “She appreciates honesty.”

“She appreciates many things,” Jack said. “Choose another one.”

Your mouth twitched.

Shen looked back at Ellis. “I got the gauze. Then I got her water and vending machine pretzels.”

You lifted one finger. “Peanut butter crackers.”

Shen’s brow furrowed. “Pretzels.”

“Crackers,” you said.

“Pretzels,” Shen repeated.

You leaned forward slightly. “John.”

Shen held your gaze. You held his.

Jack looked between you again.

Then, slowly, Shen reached across the table, palm up. You put your hand in his with grave solemnity.

Jack looked down at your joined hands. “No,” Jack said.

Ellis covered her mouth. Crus whispered, “Oh my God.”

You looked at Jack. “This is a sacred friendship dispute.”

Jack pointed at your hand in Shen’s. “Release my girlfriend.”

Shen’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “We are honoring the origin story.”

“You can honor it verbally,” Jack said.

You squeezed Shen’s hand. “It was a difficult time for us.”

“It involved sodium,” Shen said.

Jack stared at him. “Release her.”

You sighed dramatically and withdrew your hand. Shen let go at the exact same time, calm as ever. Jack’s arm settled more firmly behind your shoulders.

Ellis looked like Christmas had come early. “This is already better than I hoped.”

Crus pointed at you with a fry. “So he brought you pretzels-slash-crackers, and that was it? Friendship?”

“No,” you said.

“Yes,” Shen said.

You looked at him. “No, it grew.”

Shen nodded. “Regrettably.”

You kicked him lightly under the table. He did not react, which meant you knew he felt it.

“It grew,” you repeated, looking back at Ellis. “He started noticing things.”

Shen looked down at his drink. “You were inefficient at self-maintenance.”

Jack’s eyes shifted to him.

You smiled faintly. “He means I forgot to eat.”

“I mean she forgot to eat,” Shen said.

Ellis’s expression softened. “John.”

Shen shrugged one shoulder. “Someone had to notice.”

Jack was quiet. The table felt it, but for once, no one jumped in to ruin it.

You looked down at your hands for a second. “And I noticed things back.”

Shen glanced up.

“You hate when people talk to you before coffee,” you said.

Shen nodded. “Most people.”

“You like the corner computer because nobody stands behind you there,” you continued.

“Correct,” Shen said.

“And if you go completely silent after a bad case, it does not mean you want to be left alone forever,” you said. “It means you want someone to sit nearby and not make it worse.”

Shen looked at you for a beat too long. Then he nodded once. “Also correct.”

Jack’s hand found yours under the table. You looked down as his fingers slid between yours, warm and steady against your palm. He did not say anything. He did not need to.

Crus cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with sincerity lasting more than four seconds. “Okay, so when did this become legally weird?”

Your smile came back all at once. Jack closed his eyes.

Shen picked up his glass. “The horrible date.”

Ellis gasped. “There was a date?”

“There was a man,” you said.

Shen considered that. “Barely.”

Crus put both hands on the table. “I need everything.”

Jack opened his eyes and looked at you. “Do you?”

You squeezed his hand beneath the table. “You’re doing great.”

“That was not an answer,” Jack said.

Shen took a calm sip of his espresso martini. “It started with a rescue request.”

Jack looked at him. “A what?”

You grimaced. “I texted John from the bathroom.”

Ellis leaned forward. “During the date?”

“I had to,” you said. “He said women in medicine were intimidating but hot.”

Crus made a face. “Oh, no.”

“It got worse,” you said.

Jack’s thumb moved once over your knuckles. “How much worse?”

You glanced at him. “He asked if my job made me too tired to be feminine.”

Jack went very still.

Shen looked at him. “That was when I was summoned.”

Jack’s voice went flat. “Good.”

You patted his hand. “See? This is why John rescued me.”

Jack looked at Shen. For one second, his expression was not annoyed. Not exasperated. Not territorial. Grateful.

Then Shen ruined it by setting his glass down and saying, “Your husband is here.”

Jack blinked. Ellis blinked. Crus blinked.

You groaned. “No, don’t start there.”

Shen looked at the table. “That is where the rescue began.”

Jack turned fully toward him. “You said what?”

Shen’s hands folded again. “Your husband is here.”

Crus stared at him. “To the date?”

“Yes,” Shen said.

Ellis slapped a hand over her mouth.

You dropped your forehead briefly against Jack’s shoulder. “He walked right up to the table and said it like a police notification.”

Shen’s brow furrowed. “It was effective.”

Jack looked down at you. “Your husband.”

You lifted your head. “In my defense, I was also alarmed.”

Shen nodded. “She recovered quickly.”

You pointed across the table. “Because I am adaptable.”

“You said, ‘John, thank God,’” Shen replied.

Crus was laughing now. “What did the guy do?”

“He said, ‘Husband?’” you answered.

Shen nodded. “With concern.”

Jack stared at Shen. “And what did you say?”

Shen took a fry from the basket, apparently needing nourishment before ruining Jack’s night further. “I said yes,” Shen replied.

Jack’s jaw flexed. You squeezed his hand. “Baby.”

Jack looked down at you. “I’m fine.”

“You look upset.”

“I’m grateful,” Jack said.

“You look grateful in a violent way,” Crus said.

Jack did not look away from Shen. “That happens sometimes.”

Ellis leaned toward Shen. “And then?”

Shen looked at you. You looked at Shen.

Jack’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Do not reach across this table.”

You leaned back into his side. “We weren’t going to.”

Shen paused.

Jack looked at him. “Were you?”

Shen picked up his water. “Not anymore.”

Ellis laughed into her drink.

You sighed and continued. “Then I grabbed my purse, told my date I had to go, and left halfway through dinner.”

“She had not eaten,” Shen said.

Jack looked back at you. “You left before dinner?”

“He had just explained that he preferred women who could be independent but not argumentative,” you said.

Jack’s expression went blank.

Shen nodded. “I paid for her appetizer.”

You blinked. “You did?”

“Yes,” Shen said.

You softened. “John.”

Jack watched that too. The softness. The surprise. The history sitting there between you and Shen, old and strange and real.

He did not hate it.

That was the thing.

He hated the words. He hated the paperwork. He hated the hand-holding theatrics and the fact that Shen could weaponize a neutral expression better than most people could weaponize a scalpel.

But he did not hate that Shen had shown up for you.

Jack’s hand tightened around yours.

Crus pointed at Shen. “So where did you go after the fake husband extraction?”

You and Shen answered at the same time.

“Her apartment,” you said.

“Pizza,” Shen said.

Jack looked up.

Ellis slowly smiled. “Oh, this is getting good.”

Jack looked down at you. “Is it?”

You took a careful sip of your espresso martini. “Depends on your definition of good.”

Shen set his glass down. “It was a productive evening.”

“It was the worst date of my life,” you said.

“Before the extraction,” Shen clarified.

Crus leaned into the table. “I need to know why you went to her apartment.”

Jack’s hand tightened around yours under the table. Not hard. Just there. You looked at him, but his eyes were on Shen.

Shen looked back at him calmly. “She had not eaten.”

Jack blinked. That, apparently, was enough of an explanation.

“She left before dinner,” Shen added. “The date had compromised the meal.”

Crus nodded. “Emotionally or physically?”

“Both,” you said.

Shen glanced at you. “Primarily emotionally.”

You pointed at him. “He ruined the bread basket for me, John.”

Jack’s expression went blank. “What did he do to the bread basket?”

You looked up at him. “He said carbs were why women got tired after thirty.”

Crus made a sound of pure disgust.

Ellis lowered her drink. “No.”

Shen nodded once. “That was when I paid for the appetizer.”

Jack looked at Shen again. Grateful. Still a little violent about it. But grateful.

Shen either did not notice or had the decency to refrain from reacting to it.

“So,” Ellis said, settling in with visible delight, “you rescued her from the date, then went back to her apartment for pizza.”

“Correct,” Shen said.

You nodded. “I changed into sweatpants.”

“She took off one heel in the entryway,” Shen said.

Crus frowned. “One heel?”

“The other was emotionally load-bearing,” you said.

Jack looked down at you. “That means nothing.”

You frowned. “It meant something at the time.”

Shen lifted his espresso martini. “She also said love was a scam.”

You winced. “I was processing.”

“You said romance was a marketing scheme created to sell candles and expensive pasta,” Shen continued.

Ellis stared at you. You shrugged. “I stand by part of that.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. “You do love candles,” he said.

“And expensive pasta,” you said.

Shen took a sip. “Contradictory data.”

You looked at him. “You were eating my pizza.”

“I paid for half,” Shen replied.

“You rescued me,” you said. “The pizza should have been included in the service.”

Shen tilted his head. “Rescue services and pizza reimbursement are separate categories.”

Jack closed his eyes. Crus pointed at him. “He’s doing really well.”

“I’m aware,” you said, patting Jack’s thigh beneath the table.

Jack opened his eyes and looked down at your hand. Then he looked back at Shen. “Continue.”

Shen set his glass down. “She sat on the living room floor.”

You leaned into Jack’s side. “Because the couch felt too formal.”

“And said she was going to die alone,” Shen finished.

Ellis’s smile softened at the edges. Jack’s thumb moved once over your knuckles. You glanced down at your joined hands and tried not to let the warmth in your chest show on your face.

“It was dramatic,” you said.

“It was inaccurate,” Shen replied.

You looked at him. “You didn’t know that.”

“I knew enough,” Shen said.

The table quieted for half a second. Then Crus, because he had the survival instincts of someone allergic to sincerity, lifted one hand. “Wait. Are we getting a flashback or a transcript?”

Shen considered that. “The transcript would be more accurate.”

“No,” you said.

Ellis nodded. “Flashback.”

Jack sighed quietly. “Of course.”

You smiled into your glass. And, because the night had apparently become an official oral history, you gave them one.

Your apartment had smelled like rain, takeout menus, and the vanilla candle you lit every time you wanted to convince yourself your life was under control. It was not under control. Not that night. That night, you had kicked one heel off by the door and left the other on because taking it off felt like a commitment to the collapse. Shen stood in your entryway holding a pizza box and a two-liter bottle of soda, his coat still on, watching you with the careful neutrality of a man observing a patient who might bolt.

“You can sit,” you told him.

Shen looked at the couch. You looked at the couch. Both of you looked at the single abandoned heel in the middle of the floor.

“I’ll stand,” Shen said.

You dropped onto the living room rug instead. “I’m going to die alone.”

“No,” Shen said.

You looked up at him. “That was very fast.”

Shen stepped around the abandoned heel and set the pizza box on your coffee table. “It was an easy correction.”

“You don’t know that,” you said.

“Statistically, it is unlikely,” Shen replied.

You stared at him. Shen stared back, apparently comfortable with being deeply unhelpful in your living room. “That is not comfort,” you said.

Shen glanced down at the pizza box. “Pizza might be.”

You held your hand out. Shen opened the box, lifted a slice onto a paper towel, and handed it to you with the solemn care of a man distributing medication. You took one bite and immediately felt worse because it helped.

“I hate that this is working,” you said.

“You were hungry,” Shen said.

You pointed the slice at him. “I was emotionally devastated.”

Shen sat down on the floor across from you, still too upright, still too composed, his shoes carefully avoiding the edge of your throw blanket. “And hungry.”

You chewed angrily. Shen picked up his own slice and folded it with clinical precision.

You watched him do it. “Why are you like that?”

“Effective?” Shen asked.

“Unsettling,” you said.

He considered that. “Practice.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself. Shen looked at you for a second, then lowered his gaze to his pizza. “You are not going to die alone.”

You looked down at the slice in your hand. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” Shen agreed. “But I know you.”

That made you quiet. You hated that too. The apartment hummed around you, the refrigerator too loud in the kitchen, the rain ticking against the window, the candle flickering on the coffee table like it had not just witnessed you declare love fraudulent in one heel.

You picked at the crust. “What if this is just it?”

Shen’s brow furrowed. “Pizza?”

You looked up at him. “Dating. Men. Love. All of it. What if I never find someone?”

Shen went quiet. That was when you learned one of the most dangerous things about John Shen. He was at his most alarming when he was trying to be helpful.

“Okay,” Shen said.

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay, what?”

“How about this?” he asked.

“No,” you said immediately.

Shen paused with his pizza halfway to his mouth. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“I know your tone.”

Shen set his slice down on the paper towel with care. “If neither of us has found a long-term partner by forty, we enter a domestic partnership.”

You stared at him. He waited. You kept staring. Shen added, “For logistical purposes.”

You put your pizza down. “John.”

“Yes?” he replied.

“Are you proposing to me over pizza?” you asked.

“No,” Shen said. “I am offering a contingency plan.”

You frowned. “That is worse.”

“It is more accurate,” Shen said.

“You’re trying to comfort me with tax strategy,” you said.

“Among other things,” Shen replied.

You blinked. “Among other things?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. You watched, horrified and fascinated, as he opened the Notes app. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Drafting,” Shen said.

You leaned forward. “Drafting what?”

“The contingency plan,” he replied.

You raised your brows. “Right now?”

Shen looked up from his phone. “You seem distressed by uncertainty.”

“I am distressed by men,” you corrected.

“That is less easily solved,” Shen said.

You pointed at him. “Do not be reasonable with me in my own apartment.”

Shen titled the note with his thumb. You leaned closer to read it.

Domestic Partnership Contingency Agreement.

You sat back slowly. “You are the least romantic person I have ever met.”

“It is not romantic,” Shen said.

“That is obvious,” you replied.

He shrugged. “It’s practical.”

“John,” you said, offended now. “If I am entering a backup marriage at forty, I deserve romance.”

Shen looked up from his phone. “Why?”

You gasped. He blinked. “Why?” you repeated.

“It was a question,” Shen said.

You frowned. “It was a terrible question.”

Shen looked back at the note. “Romance is not necessary for the stated objective.”

“The stated objective is not dying alone,” you said.

Shen nodded once. “Correct.”

“A girl needs to be wooed, John,” you said.

Shen’s thumbs paused. “Wooed is vague.”

You glared. “It is not vague to women.”

“It is vague contractually.”

You reached across the pizza box and grabbed the phone from his hand. Shen let you, which meant he had either accepted defeat or was gathering evidence.

You started typing. “Contractual romance.”

Shen leaned slightly forward. “That is not a standard category.”

You grinned. “It is now.”

“What are you adding?” he asked.

“Quarterly flowers,” you said.

Shen frowned. “Why quarterly?”

“Because annually is insulting,” you replied.

Shen looked confused. “Flowers die.”

“So do all of us,” you said. “Stay focused.”

Shen blinked once. “That was bleak.”

“I just survived a date with a man who blamed pasta for aging,” you said with a shrug.

He nodded. “Proceed.”

You typed again. “Monthly date night,” you said.

Shen glanced from your face to the screen. “In a non-romantic domestic partnership?”

You nodded. “In my non-romantic domestic partnership.”

“That seems contradictory,” Shen said.

“You offered to be my backup husband,” you said. “Suffer.”

Shen watched you type. “Birthday recognition cannot be limited to a text?”

“Correct.”

Shen frowned. “What if the text is thoughtful?”

“No,” you replied instantly.

Shen sighed. “What if it contains an itinerary?”

You looked up from the phone. “Especially no.”

Shen went quiet.

Your eyes narrowed. “Were you about to suggest a birthday itinerary?”

“It could be useful,” Shen said.

You pointed at him with his own phone. “This is why the clause exists.”

Shen took the phone back and read silently for several seconds. Then his brow furrowed. “No,” he said.

You lifted your chin. “Yes.”

He looked up. “Annual passionate lovemaking?”

You folded your arms. “For morale.”

Shen stared at you. You stared back. The rain hit the window. The candle flickered. Your abandoned heel lay in the entryway like a fallen soldier.

Finally, Shen looked down at the note again. “This is poorly drafted.”

You sat up straighter. “That is your concern?”

“Yes.”

You raised a brow. “Not the passionate lovemaking?”

Shen’s eyes stayed on the screen. “That is part of the drafting issue.”

You made a strangled sound. “John.”

“What constitutes annual?” Shen asked.

You stared at him. “Once a year.”

“Calendar year or year of agreement?” he asked.

You stared harder. Shen kept reading. “If the agreement begins in April, the obligation period requires clarification.”

“I cannot believe you are editing my sex clause,” you said.

Shen looked up. “I cannot believe you wrote one with no definitions.”

You sighed dramatically. “It was supposed to be romantic.”

Shen clicked his tongue. “It was vulnerable to interpretation.”

“Good,” you said. “Romance should be.”

Shen’s face tightened like that sentence had caused him physical discomfort. You smiled for the first real time all night. “There,” you said. “That’s the contract.”

Shen looked down at the note again. Then he typed something.

You leaned across the pizza box. “What are you doing?”

“Revising,” he answered.

“John.”

“Annual intimacy maintenance,” Shen read.

You stared at him. “Absolutely not.”

Shen kept his eyes on the phone. “It is clearer.”

“It sounds like an oil change,” you said.

“It defines the function,” Shen replied.

You reached for the phone. Shen lifted it out of reach.

You narrowed your eyes. “Give me the romance back.”

“You used the phrase passionate lovemaking,” Shen said.

You shot back, “You used intimacy maintenance.”

Shen glanced at the screen like the answer was obvious. “It is more precise.”

“It is more horrifying,” you said, reaching for the phone again.

Shen considered that. “Both can remain.”

You paused. He looked at you. You looked at him. Then, despite yourself, you laughed. Shen’s mouth did not move much, but his eyes shifted in the way they did when he was pleased with himself.

“Fine,” you said. “Both can remain.”

“Good,” Shen replied.

“But I want the record to show that a girl needs to be wooed,” you added.

Shen typed. You frowned. “Did you just write that down?”

He nodded once. “Yes.”

“As a clause?” you asked.

“As a note.”

You held out your hand. “Read it.”

Shen looked at the screen. “Addendum: a girl needs to be wooed.”

You nodded, satisfied. “Perfect.”

Shen saved the note. Then he handed you another slice of pizza. And somehow, impossibly, you did not feel like you were going to die alone anymore.

Back at the bar, Crus was staring at both of you as if you had just delivered congressional testimony.

Ellis had both hands over her mouth.

Jack had not moved. Not once. His hand was still wrapped around yours under the table, but his expression had gone very still in the way that meant he was processing too many competing feelings at once.

You squeezed his fingers. “You okay?”

Jack looked down at you. Then he looked at Shen. “I’m trying very hard to remain grateful,” Jack said.

Shen nodded once. “That seems appropriate.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Do not make me regret it.”

Shen picked up his espresso martini. “I rarely control that outcome.”

Crus let out a laugh and leaned back against the booth. “So let me get this straight. You wrote a backup marriage contract after a bad date and pizza.”

“Contingency plan,” Shen corrected.

“Contractual betrothal,” you added.

Jack immediately said, “Void.”

You looked up at him. “Suspended.”

“Void,” Jack repeated.

Shen looked at Jack over his glass. “Currently suspended due to Abbot.”

Jack pointed at him. “Do not say it like I’m a scheduling conflict.”

Shen considered that. “Due to your active romantic claim.”

“Worse,” Jack said.

You patted Jack’s thigh. “He means because I love you.”

Jack looked down at your hand, then back at Shen. “He can say that instead.”

Ellis was nearly vibrating. “I need to see the clauses.”

“No,” Jack said.

“Yes,” you and Shen said together.

Jack closed his eyes.

Crus lifted his beer. “I want to know more about annual intimacy maintenance.”

Jack opened his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

You leaned into his side, smiling sweetly. “For the record, the clause is obsolete.”

Jack looked down at you. “It is?”

You took a slow sip of your espresso martini. Then you looked up at him through your lashes.

“I’m getting more than annual intimacy maintenance now that I have you, Jack.”

The table went dead silent.

Jack stopped breathing.

Crus lowered his beer. “Oh.”

Ellis whispered, “Wow.”

Shen blinked once. “That does render the prior clause redundant.”

Jack turned his head slowly. “Dunkin.”

Shen looked at him. “I was agreeing with you.”

“Do not clinically assess my sex life,” Jack said.

Shen nodded. “Boundary noted.”

You smiled into your glass. Jack looked down at you, his ears pink now, his hand still locked around yours under the table.

“You,” he said, voice low, “are trouble.”

You leaned closer to him. “You knew that.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I did,” Jack said.

Shen lifted his glass. “For what it’s worth, the contingency plan was always unlikely to activate.”

Jack looked at him.

Shen’s expression stayed calm, but something in it gentled. “She was never going to die alone.”

Your smile softened. Jack’s did too, just a little.

Then Shen added, “But legally, I felt better with a backup.”

Jack pointed at him without looking away from you. “Void.”

Shen nodded once. “There it is.”

Crus was still staring at Shen like he had just discovered an entirely new category of person.

“So wait,” Crus said, setting his beer down. “Are you two actually best friends, or is this just a tax thing?”

You opened your mouth.

Shen set his glass down first. “That depends,” he said.

You frowned. “Depends on what?”

Shen looked at you. “Whether you are prepared to acknowledge the previous harm.”

Jack looked down at you. “What harm?”

You groaned. “No.”

Ellis leaned forward immediately. “Oh, absolutely yes.”

Crus pointed between you and Shen. “I want the harm.”

“You do not,” you said.

“I do,” Crus replied. “I very much do.”

Shen folded his hands on the table. “She once introduced me as her coworker.”

Jack blinked. You dropped your head back against the booth. “John.”

Shen did not look away from Jack. “Her coworker.”

Ellis gasped quietly. “Oh, that’s cold.”

“It was not cold,” you said.

Crus shook his head. “No, that’s cold.”

You looked at him. “You don’t even know the context.”

Shen lifted one finger. “The context was after the supply closet incident, the horrible date extraction, the pizza contingency plan, and the printer failure.”

Jack’s brows pulled together. “Printer failure?”

You pointed at Shen. “Do not add new lore right now.”

Shen glanced at you. “It is relevant.”

You frowned. “It is not relevant.”

“It was emotionally significant,” Shen said.

Jack looked between you. “A printer was emotionally significant?”

Crus leaned toward Ellis. “I believe it.”

Ellis nodded. “Same.”

You sighed and looked up at Jack. “It was a hospital fundraiser.”

Shen’s expression stayed flat. “A hostile environment.”

“You were standing in the corner silently holding shrimp,” you said.

“I had been abandoned,” Shen replied.

You stared at him. “I was talking to a donor.”

“You introduced me as your coworker John,” Shen said, deeply wounded.

Jack’s mouth twitched. You saw it immediately. Your eyes narrowed. “Do not.”

Jack looked down at you. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought something.”

“I did,” Jack admitted.

You sat up a little straighter. “You’re taking his side?”

Jack’s hand moved on your thigh, warm and apologetic. “On this? Yes.”

Your mouth fell open. Shen nodded once. “Justice.”

Jack pointed across the table without looking away from you. “Temporary alliance.”

“Noted,” Shen said.

Ellis was smiling so hard it looked painful. “Wait. What should she have introduced you as?”

Shen looked at her. “Friend.”

You looked across the table at him. For once, he did not say it like a joke. He did not even say it like a correction. He said it as if the answer had always been obvious. Something in your chest went soft.

Then Crus ruined it by lifting a wing and asking, “Best friend?”

Shen’s gaze shifted to him. You took a sip of your espresso martini. Jack looked down at you. You avoided his eyes.

Ellis’s smile widened. “Oh.”

“No,” you said.

Crus leaned in. “No, what?”

“You all have faces,” you said.

Jack’s mouth curved. “We do?”

“You especially,” you told him.

Jack’s thumb moved once over your thigh. “What face am I making?”

“The face that says you are about to be emotionally reasonable, and it is going to ruin my fun,” you replied with a frown.

Jack looked at you for a second. Then, very dryly, he said, “God forbid.”

Shen picked up his glass. “For accuracy, the designation is best friend.”

You turned toward him. “John.”

He took a calm sip of his espresso martini. Ellis made a delighted little sound. “Designation?”

“It was added after the coworker incident,” Shen said.

Jack closed his eyes. “Of course it was.”

Crus pointed at Shen. “To the contract?”

“No,” Shen said.

You nodded. “Yes.”

Shen looked at you. “It was not part of the domestic partnership contingency agreement.”

“It was in the same shared note,” you said.

“That does not make it part of the agreement,” Shen replied.

You leaned forward. “It was under Friendship Clarifications.”

Jack opened his eyes. “Friendship Clarifications.”

Ellis put both hands around her glass. “I need this note more than I need air.”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

“Yes,” Crus said at the same time.

You smiled at Shen across the table. Shen looked back at you.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Do not.”

You and Shen both reached for each other’s hands at the same time. Jack’s hand came down gently over yours, pinning it to the table.

You looked up at him. “Excuse me.”

Jack did not look away from Shen. “Preventative medicine.”

Shen glanced at Jack’s hand over yours. “You interrupted a historically accurate reenactment.”

Jack looked at him. “Use puppets.”

You laughed so hard you had to lean into Jack’s side. His hand softened over yours immediately, fingers slipping between yours.

Shen’s eyes flicked to the movement. Then he looked at Jack. For a second, the humor eased out of his face. “For clarity,” Shen said, “I am not competition.”

The table quieted. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough.

Jack’s thumb stilled against your knuckles. “I know,” Jack said.

Shen studied him. You stayed very still against Jack’s side.

“She was my friend before she was your girlfriend,” Shen said.

Jack nodded once. “I know that too.”

Shen’s gaze shifted to you, then back to Jack. “I took care of her.”

Jack’s hand tightened around yours. The pressure was small. Steady.

“I know,” Jack said again.

Shen folded his hands around his glass. “Dating you should not mean losing me.”

Your throat tightened before you could stop it. Jack looked down at you. His expression softened immediately.

Then he looked back at Shen. “It doesn’t.”

Shen’s face went still in that way it did when he had heard something more important than he was ready to show.

Jack’s voice stayed even. “I’m glad she has you.”

You stopped breathing for half a second. Across the table, Shen blinked once. Ellis looked down at her drink like she was giving the moment privacy. Crus, for once in his life, did not say anything.

Shen nodded, small and quiet. “Me too.”

Jack held his gaze for another second.

Then Shen added, “Seniority recognized.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Do not make me regret personal growth.”

Crus broke first, laughing into his hand. Ellis pressed her lips together, losing the fight almost immediately. You dropped your forehead against Jack’s shoulder and laughed, even though your eyes felt warm. Jack’s arm came around you at once.

Shen lifted his espresso martini. “I am simply acknowledging the timeline.”

Jack looked at him. “You are acknowledging nothing.”

“I was there first,” Shen said.

Jack’s hand flexed at your side. “I’m going to be there last.”

The table went quiet again.

You lifted your head and looked at him.

Jack did not look away from Shen at first. Then his eyes dropped to you, and his expression changed. Not embarrassed. Not uncertain. Just sure. Painfully sure.

“When you want that,” he said, quieter.

Ellis stared into her drink like it had suddenly become fascinating.

Crus whispered, “Damn.”

Shen took a slow sip of his martini. Then he set it down. “Future claim noted.”

Jack looked back at him. “Does that mean the previous claim is void?”

Shen considered him. Then, with great reluctance, he nodded. “Emotionally superseded.”

Jack paused. You looked between them.

Jack’s jaw shifted. “Acceptable.”

Shen nodded once. “Progress.”

You leaned back into Jack’s side, still holding his hand under the table.

Crus let out a long breath. “This is the weirdest dinner I’ve ever been to.”

Ellis shook her head. “No, this is art.”

Shen reached for a cheese curd. Jack watched him.

Shen paused with his hand hovering over the basket. “Appetizer coordination only.”

Jack stared at him.

Shen withdrew his hand. “Understood.”

You smiled into Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked down at you, his expression soft despite himself.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded against him. “Yeah.”

His mouth brushed your hairline, quick enough that no one else would have noticed if Ellis had not immediately made a sound.

Jack looked across the table. “No.”

Ellis lifted both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to,” Jack said.

Crus pointed at Ellis. “She absolutely was.”

Shen picked up his glass again. “For the record, the best friend designation remains active.”

Jack sighed. You smiled. Then Jack looked at Shen and said, “Fine.”

Shen stilled. You did too.

Jack’s arm stayed warm around your shoulders. “Best friend designation active.”

Shen stared at him. Jack pointed one finger across the table. “Contractual betrothal void.”

Shen’s mouth twitched. “Accepted,” he said.

Ellis slapped the table lightly. “I cannot believe I witnessed treaty negotiations over cheese curds.”

Crus lifted his beer. “To the best friend clause.”

You lifted your espresso martini. Shen lifted his. Jack looked at all of you like he loved you and regretted every one of his choices. Then, finally, he picked up his drink.

“To the void contract,” Jack said.

Shen’s eyes narrowed. “That was hostile.”

Jack’s mouth curved. “Good.”

The toast did not end the argument. It only relocated it.

By the time the five of you made it outside, Crus was still asking whether “emotionally superseded” had any real contractual weight, Ellis was insisting the shared note should be entered into evidence, and Shen was explaining, with the patience of a man who had never once considered simply letting something go, that the phrase had been chosen for precision.

Jack walked beside you a few steps behind them, his hand warm at your lower back, his thumb brushing there once every few seconds. The night air was cool after the bar, damp enough to make the streetlights blur slightly against the pavement. You tucked yourself closer to his side, and Jack’s arm came around you immediately.

Ahead of you, Shen said, “Emotionally superseded does not erase prior documentation.”

Jack looked over your head. “Void.”

Shen did not turn around. “Superseded.”

“Void,” Jack repeated.

You smiled into Jack’s shoulder. “You know he’s never going to give you void.”

“I know,” Jack said.

“You’re still going to keep saying it?”

Jack nodded once. “Yes.”

You laughed softly. Jack looked down at you, and whatever dry argument had been sitting in his face eased into something quieter. The streetlight caught the color in his eyes, turning them softer at the edges. You thought about him at the table, his voice calm when he told Shen it did not mean losing him. You thought about his hand around yours when he said he was glad you had someone. You thought about the way he had looked at Shen and said, with no hesitation at all, that he was going to be there last.

Your chest warmed all over again. “You meant that?” you asked.

Jack’s brow shifted. “Which part?”

You slipped your arm around his waist. “Being there last.”

Jack stopped walking. Because Jack never did anything halfway. He did not make the moment dramatic on purpose. He simply stopped beside you on the sidewalk, his arm still around your shoulders, his whole attention settling on you like everyone else had gone quiet and distant. Ahead of you, the others noticed. Ellis stopped first. Crus nearly walked into her. Shen stopped last, then turned with visible suspicion.

Jack ignored all of them. “Yes,” he said.

Your breath caught.

Jack’s eyes stayed on yours. “When you want that.”

You smiled before you could stop it. Soft at first, then a little wicked.

Jack’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Why did your face change?”

You blinked up at him. “My face?”

“That one,” Jack said.

You frowned. “What one?”

Jack sighed. “The one where you are about to make my life difficult.”

Crus leaned toward Ellis. “He knows her so well.”

Ellis nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

You ignored them and smoothed one hand over Jack’s shirt. “I just think it’s good that you’re already thinking ahead.”

Jack looked down at your hand, then back to your face. “I am.”

“I respect that,” you replied.

His mouth curved faintly. “Do you?”

“I do,” you said.

Shen’s voice came from several feet away. “That phrasing feels intentional.”

Jack closed his eyes. You smiled wider.

Then you looked up at Jack and said, “But if you are planning on making a formal replacement to the void contract, Shen needs to be consulted.”

Jack opened his eyes. No one moved. For one perfect second, the sidewalk went completely still.

Then Jack said, “No.”

At the exact same time, Shen said, “Yes.”

Jack turned his head slowly. “You were not invited into this conversation.”

Shen folded his hands in front of him. “I was invoked.”

Crus made a sound of pure delight. Ellis pointed between all three of you. “Ring committee.”

Jack looked at her. “Absolutely not.”

You leaned into his side. “He knows my taste.”

Jack looked down at you. “I know your taste.”

“He knows my ring taste,” you said.

Jack’s jaw shifted. “Since when?”

Shen adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. “There was a Pinterest incident.”

Jack closed his eyes again. “Of course there was.”

“It was extensive,” Shen added.

“Do not elaborate,” Jack said.

You patted Jack’s chest. “He should also be consulted on the proposal plan.”

Jack’s eyes opened. “Proposal plan?”

You nodded, solemn now. “A girl needs to be wooed, Jack.”

Shen nodded from the sidewalk. “Established clause.”

Jack looked between you and Shen. For a second, he seemed genuinely caught between wanting to kiss you and wanting to personally delete the Notes app from every phone in a ten-mile radius.

“I am going to regret allowing the best friend designation to remain active,” Jack said.

You tilted your head. “Are you?”

His arm tightened around you. Jack’s expression softened despite the glare he was still aiming in Shen’s direction. “No.”

Your smile went warm. “No,” he said again, quieter. “I’m not.”

Ellis made a tiny sound. Crus looked at her. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Ellis said immediately.

Shen looked at her. “You appear emotionally compromised.”

Ellis pointed at him. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Jack looked back down at you. “For the record, I can pick a ring.”

“I know,” you said.

“And plan a proposal,” Jack added.

You smiled. “I know.”

“And ask your best friend for input without giving him veto power,” Jack continued.

Shen lifted one finger. “Advisory authority traditionally includes—”

Jack looked at him. “No.” Shen paused. Jack’s voice stayed calm. “Advisory only.”

Shen considered him for a beat. “Strong advisory.”

“Advisory,” Jack repeated.

You slid your hand into Jack’s. “Maybe strong advisory.”

Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him. His jaw flexed once.

Then he looked back at Shen. “Limited strong advisory.”

Shen nodded. “Acceptable.”

Crus stared between them. “I cannot believe I just watched proposal governance happen in real time.”

Ellis wiped under one eye. “I can. This is exactly them.”

Jack ignored both of them and looked at you. “Anything else I should know?”

You pretended to think about it. “No public proposals.”

Jack nodded immediately. “I know.”

“No ring in food,” you added.

His brows pulled together. “Obviously.”

“No sports arena screens,” you continued.

Jack looked offended. “You think I would do that?”

“No,” you said, smiling. “But Shen would ask for confirmation.”

Shen nodded once. “I would.”

Jack sighed. You squeezed his hand. “And it should feel like us.”

Jack’s irritation softened into something else. Something private. “It will,” he said.

Your heart stumbled.

Shen, to his credit, did not interrupt that part. Not immediately. Then he said, “I will require a planning timeline.”

Jack did not look away from you. “You will receive what I give you.”

Shen looked at Ellis. “Hostile committee environment.”

Ellis nodded. “Noted.”

Crus lifted both hands. “I’m just happy to be here.”

You rose onto your toes and kissed Jack’s cheek.

His attention snapped fully back to you. “What was that for?” he asked.

“For being emotionally evolved,” you said.

Jack’s mouth twitched. “That’s what that was?”

You smiled. “And for accepting the best friend clause.”

His arm settled around your waist. “I accepted it under protest.”

You shrugged. “You accepted it.”

“I did,” Jack replied.

Shen lifted one hand from the sidewalk. “Best friend clause active.”

Jack looked over your head. “Void contract.”

Shen’s mouth curved, barely. “Active committee.”

Jack pointed at him. “Dunkin.”

You laughed and tucked your face against Jack’s chest. Jack kissed the top of your head, still glaring at Shen over you like a man who had just agreed to share classified information with the enemy. But his hand was gentle on your back. His mouth was soft against your hair. And when you held onto him, he held on right back.

“Come on,” Jack said, voice low near your ear. “I’m taking you home.”

You looked up at him. “Advisory committee approved?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. Then he glanced at Shen. “You objecting?”

Shen looked at you. Then at Jack. Then he nodded once. “No objection.”

Jack’s hand tightened around yours. “Good,” he said.

And this time, no one argued.

While having a chat in the breakroom with Jack, you accidentally made it very clear that you haven't lost your virginity yet. Your face was filled with embarrassment when he looked at you, shocked.

“How come a pretty girl like you hasn't lost their virginity yet?” Jack asked, his eyes looking you up and down. 

“I don't know?” You let out an awkward laugh.

Jack did that smirk that he always does, “Meet me at my car after our shift.” He winked at you before leaving the breakroom to go back to the chaos that was the Pitt.

You bit the inside of your cheeks. Why does he want to see you at his car after work? Was it because you told him you were a virgin? Was he implying that he was going to take your virginity? I mean, you wouldn't be mad if he did… he was disgustingly handsome, but you were scared shitless. 

“If this is about me saying I was still a virgin, you don't have to do this. I’m totally okay about being a virgin, I promise you it doesn't fuck with my head.” You walked up to Jack, who was leaning on his car.

“Are you sure?” He waited for a response, but you didn't give him one. “Besides, I want to do this.” He grabbed your face with his hands and kissed you like he was starving. “Only if you want me to.” His voice was low.

Shit, this was making you horny.

“Can we get in your car first?” You walked to the passenger seat. “Also, I don’t think I want my first time to be in a car.” You told him.

“I would never have sex with a girl in my car.” He started the car, pulling out of the parking lot and driving to his place.

“So… I’m assuming you've had experience with many other girls.” 

“Yeah, but that doesn't make me any less excited to have sex with you.” He smiled.

Your cheeks started to burn up. “You're going to be very disappointed.” Jack turned to look at you, “I could never be disappointed by you.”

God, every word that came out of his mouth was making you wet. 

It started the way it always did: making out. 

Jack’s hand traveled from your back to your neck as he kissed you, pulling you closer to him, his free hand squeezing your ass. Now and then, he’d let out a low growl.

He guided you to his bed, laying you down. “Do you want me to do this?”

You nodded your head. It was about time you lost your virginity, and the fact that it was Jack who was taking it made it a little less scary.

Jack smirked,  “You don't know how long I’ve been dreaming about having sex with you, and to take your virginity, fuck it makes me even hornier.” 

Hearing him say that made you want him inside you. “Really?” You asked endearingly. 

He nodded his head and moved his hands under your pants, circling his fingers over your clit, making you wetter than you’ve ever been. Of course, you’ve touched yourself before, but when it was someone else's hand instead of yours, it felt even better.

You moved your hips in the motion his fingers were moving, your head digging into the mattress as you arched your back. It felt so good.

“You look so beautiful.” Jack pressed his lips against yours, passionately kissing you while simultaneously pleasuring you, his fingers slipping inside you. 

You inhaled sharply, as your mouth opened, letting out a loud moan. He pumped his fingers in and out, watching you as your eyes rolled back. He picked up his pace, going faster and faster each time his fingers went in and out. 

“Fuck.” Your heart was beating rapidly. 

You were almost there until he slowed down. His fingers left your hole, leaving you begging for more.

“Why’d you stop?” You asked, watching him take off his pants and put a condom on.

“I want to fuck you so badly.” He pulled your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties down with them. His tongue licked your clit before finding its way to your mouth. 

You could feel his cock slap against your clit before entering you. You gasped a little, tightening your hands around his biceps as he pumped in and out of you slowly.

“I want you.” He kissed your neck. “I need you.” The slow pace at which he was going quickened. 

Every part of you wanted more and more, hoping he wouldn’t stop like before. 

“I need you to ride me.” He slowed down, taking his cock out of you– leaving you yet again wanting more.

You removed your pants from your ankles as he assisted you on top of him, inserting his cock inside you.

“I don't know–”

“You got this, do what you think feels good.” He told you.

“Okay…” You slowly moved your hips back and forth, his hands assisting you. You then started lifting yourself up and down, feeling his cock go in and out. 

A groan left his mouth as he shut his eyes and let you take full control.

“Is this good?”

“Mhm.” He said quietly as his breathing quickened. 

You started going faster, leaning your hands on his stomach. You were getting the hang of it.

Your eyes rolled back as his cock hit the right place, sending you over the edge. You kept going, even though your body begged you to stop. Seconds later, a loud grunt came out of Jack’s mouth, his hands squeezing your thighs tightly.

“Shit.” He panted.

You fell to the side of him, catching your breath as your body buzzed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good ever.” You admitted. 

“Me neither.”

divider — @cursed-carmine