#borhap au

“You are such an asshole,” you said shakily. “Why do you even want to meet her? You signed away -”

“I didn’t do that by choice and you know it,” he cut across you. “It was part of our deal. Well, I’m striking a new deal.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the sob threatening to escape. You looked at Gwilym and his heart nearly broke at your helplessness. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. 

“When would we even be able to do this?” you returned. “I’m on tour right now.”

Gwilym shot you a horrified look that you were actually considering this.

“I know your last show is back in New York,” he said. “That’s when I want to meet her.”

“I need to think about this,” you said. 

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” he said. “Or I’m asking Stacy to marry me.”

“Are fucking kidding me?!” you cried. “You’d stoop that low just to spite me?!”

“You’re damn right I would!” he yelled back. “You think you’re so high and mighty now that you’re famous, but don’t you ever forget who you really are - just another bitc-”

You hung up on him once again. You looked over at Gwilym as your mouth began to tremble with the emotions flooding to the surface.

“What am I going to do?” you whimpered. 

“Say no,” he said. “You can’t let him use Stacy against you.”

“Don’t you see?” you said. “He’s made whatever happens to Stacy my fault. Because I could have done something. He’s put this on me!”

“What he does to Stacy is his fault - his choice,” he argued. “It’s nobody else’s.”

“I can’t let him do what he did to me to someone else,” you said. “I can’t.”

“You can’t protect everyone, Y/N,” he reminded you.

“You’re right,” you said quietly as more tears spilled out. “Turns out, I can’t even protect my own daughter.”

“Yes, you can,” he protested. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” you returned. 

“Y/N…”

“I know,” you said. “But it’s just one time and then we never have to see him again.”

Gwilym scooted closer to you and took your face in his hands.

“Y/N, please,” he said. “Please don’t do this.”

“He’s given me no other choice,” you said, pulling away from him. “And I’ll be right there with her. I’ll meet him in public, so he can’t start anything, and -”

“Hold on, are you saying you’re going alone?” he wondered.

“Well, yeah,” you said, blinking at him.

“Oh, no you’re not,” he said. “When’s your last day of tour?”

You told him.

“I’ll be in New York with the boys then,” he said. “I’m going with you.”

“No!” you cried, eyes going wide and grabbing his hands again. “No, I don’t want him to hurt you!”

He smiled at you. “He won’t, love. And I’ll think he’ll be even less inclined to try something with you if you have a man with you.”

You considered this. You really hated to bring anyone around Henry, much less the two most precious people in your life. Fear clawed at your heart. Henry almost always carried his gun and a knife on him. If anything happened, you could lose everything.

“I’ll negotiate some terms for this meeting,” you said. “Are you sure about this?”

“I cannot let you go alone,” he assured you. “I will not.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

You leaned towards him and rested your forehead against his. You held your face between his hands, wiping some fresh tears away with his thumb. You wondered how things had gotten so heavy. It was not quite so much of a burden with Gwilym to help.

A gasp left your mouth when you opened your eyes and saw the time on his watch. 

“Gwilym, you’ve got to go,” you said. “Your interview.”

He glanced at the time and saw it too. “Damn. I’ll come straight back, after.”

“Don’t worry about that, I have a show tonight,” you said. “Spend some time with the guys. I can handle this.”

“Alright, love,” he agreed, kissing your forehead. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” you returned.

He finally parted from you, leaving your skin itching for his return. He said a quick goodbye to Violet as well and then was gone. When the door closed behind him, you reached into the desk drawer to read his latest letter.

It was much the same as the others. A brief update on his emotional well-being, something about another book he’d read. He also mentioned you and something you’d said that stuck with him. He told Dear Friend how much she would like you. You chuckled to yourself. When you reached the end of the letter, it hit you. This was the first one since the first admission of love that he had not written “I love you.” Your brow furrowed. Had his feelings actually changed? 

You began to write a response, but you were having a difficult time. So much was on your mind now. Henry, Stacy, Gwilym, Violet. The huge web all of you were caught up in. For the first time, you didn’t feel like writing. With a sigh, you abandoned the letter for now and checked your emails. Your manager told you that he’d paid Stacy her final paycheck and they were looking for a new assistant, but since you only had two weeks left of tour, they would probably start when you returned to LA. It was a bit of a nuisance to be on your own, but you could manage.

That night, you let everything go as you got on the stage. It was a welcome relief to disappear behind your jokes once more and engage with a crowd for a while. You didn’t have to think much about Henry or Gwilym or anyone. It was just you and your audience. You could just have fun and laugh. It was nice.

After the show, you called Henry back. You were nervous but he picked up quickly and you told him you would meet him when you were back in New York.

“Some ground rules,” you said.

“I’m listening,” he replied.

“No weapons,” you told him. “Not your gun, not your knife, nothing that could hurt me or Violet.”

“So her name is Violet?” he asked.

“You didn’t know?”

“You never told me a goddamn thing about her, how was I supposed to know?”

“Whatever, do I have your word that you won’t bring any of your usual shit?” you pressed. 

“Fine,” he agreed. “Anything else?”

“This is a one time meeting,” you said firmly. “I am under no obligation to foster a relationship between you and her. If she wants to meet you again she may do so when she is eighteen.”

He sighed. “I’m her father.”

“Speaking of which, you aren’t allowed to tell her who you are,” you snapped. “She doesn’t have a father.”

“Are you serious?!”

“As a heart attack,” you said. “These are my terms.”

“Okay,” he said, but he sounded hesitant. “I won’t tell her.”

“And you will not trick me into this again,” you said. “Your next attempt to contact me will be ignored. My management team will know your name and will screen anything from you or anyone associated with you, including the whole fucking NYPD. Do you understand?”

“You’re getting ridiculous,” he said.

“Do you understand?”

“I understand,” he said irritably. “Fine.”

“Good,” you said. “I’ll text you when and where we can meet close to the date.”

“Whatever,” he said, and hung up.

You heaved a sigh. “This is gonna be a long two weeks.”

You could not have been more wrong. The next two weeks flew by. Normally, you were pretty pumped about the end of a tour, but you were dreading this one. The meeting with Henry loomed ahead like a cave with a wide mouth, but complete darkness inside. 

What made it worse was that you wouldn’t see Gwilym until New York either. You did eventually write back to his letter, but it felt shallow and empty. Completely devoid of any real meaning. But you wanted to send it as quickly as possible. Perhaps the reason he’d stopped saying “I love you” was because he felt the distance, even in the letters. Or perhaps he’d put the distance there himself as he got closer to you outside of them.

It was just after Thanksgiving and you were back in New York. The air was chilly with the threat of winter, but everything looked warm and festive. It was a relief that this would be over soon and you could move on with your holidays, just you and Violet. The draw back was that Gwilym was going back home, and you’d be further from him than you had been since before you reconnected. It broke your heart to think of it.

Gwilym arrived to pick you and Violet up from your room. You were staying in the same hotel this time, but you could hardly be excited about it. Your stomach twisted up in knots as the hour grew closer to confronting your ex-husband. You subconsciously grabbed the scar on your side from your last encounter with him. It felt like that wound was opening again.

“You alright?” Gwilym asked.

“No, honestly,” you replied. “I hate this.”

“I know, love,” he said, pressing a kiss you the top of your head. “It won’t be long. You can do it.”

“Don’t let go of me,” you said, like a little girl asking her dad not to let go of her bike when she’s learning to ride. Only, a lot worse than scrapes and bruises were at risk.

“Mommy, why are we meeting this man?” Violet asked. 

“I used to know him,” you explained. “And it’s important that I talk to him.”

“But you don’t like him?” she wondered.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t.”

“I don’t wanna go,” she whined. “I don’t wanna!”

You wished it was that simple. That you could stamp your foot and say no and get your way. But you couldn’t. Not with his threat against someone you knew. You regretted not talking to Stacy more, but you weren’t sure you could have convinced her to leave him. But if you only opened up to people, then they would know. Guilt washed over you. Had you doomed her by keeping your guard up? You couldn’t think about that now.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said to her. “But we only have to go once.”

You walked to the park where you were meeting Henry. The beauty of the city in this season was lost on you as your nerves made every shaky step harder and harder to take. If Gwilym and Violet were not holding your hands you were sure you would have collapsed already. 

You came around the corner to the park and you spotted him. He was not very tall, but he was bulky. He’d gained some weight since you last saw him, but you were sure he had not lost any of his old strength. He stood up from the bench he was on when he saw you coming. Every cell on your body was screaming at you to run. To get as far away from him as possible. You stopped walking to take a breath.

“Nearly there, Y/N,” Gwilym said gently. 

You nodded, inhaling deeply again and started forward. Henry was only feet away from you now. The places on your body where he’d done the most damage were lighting up with the memory of his strikes. Your left eye throbbed. The burn on your collarbone grew hot. The cut on your side stung.

“Y/N,” Henry said. 

“Henry,” you returned with a stiff nod.

Violet stood in front of you, but she backed up into your legs, looking warily up at Henry. He looked at Gwilym.

“Who’s this?” he wondered.

“Gwilym Lee,” Gwilym answered.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Henry asked.

“That’s not your business,” you interjected. “You’re here to talk to Violet.”

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. He went to kneel down to greet her but you stopped him.

“Hold it,” you said. “Show me your waistband.”

“Come on, I left my gun in the car,” he told you. “My knife too.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” you said. “Show me.”

He groaned, rolled his eyes, and then lifted his sweater and undershirt. You found no holster or knife clip. 

“Go ahead,” you said.

He knelt in front of her. “Hi, Violet. My name’s Henry.” He held his hand out to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and then looked up at you. “The bad man?”

Before you could answer, Henry sprang to his full height. You flinched.

“The bad man?” he repeated, practically spitting at you.

Gwilym wrapped his arm protectively around your shoulders, but you didn’t relax. Violet whimpered beside you and wrapped her arms around your leg. 

“That slipped out,” you said. The familiar need to protect Henry’s feelings and appease him arose in you. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you oughta be,” he said. “You’re already setting her up not to like me.”

“Why should she?” you blurted out.

“Hey, watch it with the fuckin’ attitude,” he warned, stepping toward you.

“Is that a threat?” Gwilym challenged, moving to stand between you and Henry.

“Mommy,” Violet said, tugging on your jacket and cutting the quickly growing tension. “I gotta go potty.”

“Okay, sweetie,” you said, taking her hand. “Let’s go find the restroom.”

“There’s a building just down the path,” Henry said, his shoulders relaxing. 

“Okay,” you returned. “We’ll be right back.”

Gwilym watched you disappear with Violet into the building Henry referred to. He felt tense now standing beside your ex-husband, who had caused you so much pain. He didn’t even know half of it, he was sure. Anger was boiling up inside of him, but he wanted to keep a cool head for your sake. You were anxious enough already.

“So, how do you know Y/N?” Henry asked. 

Gwilym blinked at him.

“We used to work together,” he answered shortly.

“So you’re just friends?”

“Sure.”

“And Violet, she likes you?”

“I would think so considering how often she hugs me.”

Henry sighed and toed the ground with his boot, stirring up some dust. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?” wondered Gwilym.

“It’s just shitty how it all worked out,” he said. “I hate this.”

Gwilym was shocked. Had Henry changed?

“If she hadn’t left, we could have been happy,” Henry said.

Gwilym couldn’t hold back any more. “Are you joking? If you hadn’t treated her like a punching bag, maybe she wouldn’t have left!”

“Hey, what the hell do you know?” Henry shot back. 

“Did it make you feel better?” Gwilym cried. “Burning her, slapping her around? Did it make you feel like a man? To force yourself on someone smaller than you and helpless?”

“She earned everything she got!” Henry shouted. “A good woman doesn’t talk shit to her husband!”

“Tell me, what exactly were you doing to be a husband worthy of her respect?”

Henry flared up and glowered at Gwilym. His hands balled into fists, which did not go unnoticed by the latter. 

“Going to hit me?” Gwilym challenged. “Or do you exclusively beat on people who can’t fight back?” 

“Hey, FUCK YOU!” Henry bellowed.

Gwilym laughed in his face. “Raise your voice all you want, Henry. You’re a tiny, pathetic little man, and you don’t scare me.” 

Henry swung at Gwilym who only leaned back to avoid the impact. But the former had put all his weight behind the punch, so missing threw him off balance, and he stumbled. Gwilym took this opportunity to shove Henry several feet back. He caught himself and re-centered, preparing to lunge at Gwilym again. 

You were drying Violet’s hands when you heard Henry curse loudly, and assumed it was directed at Gwilym. A nervous twinge went through you and you gulped. You wondered what had been said and if it was still escalating. 

“Come on, sweetie,” you said, taking Violet’s hand. “Hurry.”

You walked quickly outside, and you saw Henry throw a punch but miss. Then you saw him prepare to strike a second time. You took off running, hurtling toward Gwilym. Violet gave a surprised cry and followed close behind, sprinting beside you at a rate that was impressive, though you couldn’t even process it. You had missile lock on Gwilym as Henry raised his hand. 

“Don’t you TOUCH HIM!” you screamed, casting yourself between the men.

You faced Henry, arms spread in front of Gwilym. You glared fiercely at your ex-husband, surprised at his newfound hesitation. Violet caught up and hid herself behind Gwilym. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath.

Gwilym blinked, shocked at your sudden appearance and your ferocious defense of him. Your need to protect others from Henry’s cruelty became even clearer to him now. Even though you were smaller, weaker, and more afraid, you stood there in front of him, shielding him and your daughter. His admiration for you grew about tenfold. As did his love. 

You waited for Henry to strike. You could not allow him to get to Gwilym and Violet. Your whole heart stood behind you, and you would shield it with your life if you had to. Henry stepped closer, and you brought your hands forward and rammed both fists into his chest. He was so thrown off by it, he fell onto his back. 

“This was a mistake,” you said to Gwilym, but without facing him. You knew better than to turn your back on Henry. “Let’s go.”

Henry rolled onto his side and then scrambled to his feet. 

“Hold on, I’m not finished,” he said. 

“I am,” you retorted. “Deal’s off. Fuck you.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Violet again interrupted. 

“Daddy, hold me!” she whined. 

You and Henry both whipped around - you terrified, and he hopeful. But then you saw it. She was reaching up for Gwilym, ignoring Henry entirely. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and she was shaking. Your heart ached for her. You knew she must so scared and confused. Gwilym stooped down and lifted her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and let out a sob. 

“It’s alright, love,” he said, rubbing her back. “I’ve got you.”

You turned to Henry. “We’re leaving. Contact me again, and I’ll file harassment charges.”

“This is bullshit,” he said. 

“Get bent,” you returned. 

Gwilym approached. He had Violet on his hip, so he wrapped his free arm around your waist. You turned, feeling more secure now, and the three of you walked way. 

“Y/N!” Henry called. 

You ignored him. 

“Y/N!”

You flipped him off as you walked.

As you headed back to the hotel, Violet relaxed. She was not asking questions, just holding Gwilym around his neck and relying on him for comfort. You took her hand. 

“I love you,” you told her. “I’ll never put you through that again. I’m sorry, Violet.”

“I love you too, Mommy,” she returned. “I’m okay. You’re okay. That’s what matters.”

You smiled at her. Then she closed her eyes and rested on Gwilym. He looked over at you and smirked. 

“You were really amazing back there,” he told you. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

Your heart swelled at his praise. “Thanks!”

When you got back to the hotel, Joe, Ben, and Rami were all there in the lobby, clearly fretting over Gwilym’s return. When they saw him in one piece, they all sighed with relief. 

“How’d it go?” Joe wondered. 

“Fine,” Gwilym assured him. “Y/N set him straight.”

“Good for you,” Rami said, clapping you on the shoulder as you grinned. 

“Hey, would you guys mind taking Violet for a little while?” Gwilym asked.

You shot him a quizzical look. 

“I just want to talk to you,” he said. “Privately. Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Do you guys mind?”

“Not at all,” Ben answered. 

“What d’you say, Vi?” Gwilym asked her. “Wanna spend some time with your uncles?”

She looked at the three of them, a slow smile spreading across her lips. Joe made a goofy face and did a raspberry at her and she giggled. 

“Yeah!” she agreed. 

“Good girl!” Gwilym said, handing her off to Joe. 

You waved to her as Gwilym led you to the elevator. 

“Wait, are we going to your room?” you wondered. 

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s important.”

Confusion and a jolt of worry went through you. You feared - irrationally - that he was going to tell you this was all too much for him and end your friendship. It had to be about what happened with Henry. Was he going to scold you for trying to protect him? You really had no idea what else it could be. 

When you made it to his room, utterly lost at the purpose of all this, he quickly opened the door and almost pushed you inside. Where had this sudden intensity come from?

The door clicked shut and you looked at him, distressed. 

“Gwil, what’s going -”

Michaela blushed and bit her lip sheepishly. Joe took notice of this, eyes flicking down to watch her newly reddened and glistening lip. He swallowed roughly, wanting nothing more than to connect his own lips with hers.

“Okay you got me there, but despite being a blind ass bitch, my peripherals are on point. I saw you looking the whole time.” she smirked, turning her body slightly so that she was facing Joe more.

“And you chose to wait until the main characters started kissing to bust me...why?” Joe asked, also angling himself more towards Michaela, squeezing his hand together in a fist.

“No reason…” she said softly, barely audible, as her eyes focused in on Joe’s lips, which were slightly parted, and moving closer as Joe leaned forward ever so slightly.

“C’mon mate the game is about to start and I’ve got money down on--oh...sorry are we...interrupting something?” Gwil said as he and Ben marched into the living room decked out in their soccer gear, apparently waiting to watch the game.

Clearly they were interrupting something. “No, you’re fine, we weren’t watching a movie or anything.” Joe said through a pasted-on smile, begrudgingly backing up from the almost-kiss.

“I mean…” Ben looked from Joe to Michaela, as if weighing the pros and cons. “The movie will still be there later, but the football game is live, mate.” he said, almost wincing at his statement, essentially telling the two lovebirds to take a hike.

“Fine, great, we’ll just leave then.” Joe said, leaning back into the couch, exhaling angrily at the situation.

“No I really should be going anyway. Got a project I need to finish compiling for studio tomorrow. It’s fine.” Michaela said, smiling at the two other boys as she stood up and reached for Joe’s hand, pulling him off of the couch and down the small hallway to the door.

Ben and Gwil quickly occupied the couch and turned on the soccer game, with the crowd roaring at the start of the match.

“I’m really sorry about them,” Joe apologized as Michaela reached for the doorknob to open the door.

“Don’t be sorry, I still had a great time with you today.” she replied genuinely.

“Could’ve made it a better time.” Joe grumbled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor, disappointed that the moment had passed.

“There’s always next time…” Michaela said, rubbing Joe’s knuckles with her thumb while she still held onto his hand.

“Trust me, the next time I see you, I’m gonna rock your goddamn world.” Joe said, a spark igniting again in his eyes.

“Is that a promise, Mazzello?” Michaela answered back, matching his excited intensity.

“You better fucking believe it.” he said, raising his eyebrows with a devilish grin as he pushed up off of the doorway, and backed into his apartment, closing the door between them for dramatic effect.

“So...tomorrow night? Knock twice for yes.” Michaela projected through the door.

Two knocks came sharply, and she grinned, turning around and walking back to her car with a spring in her step.

---------------------

I took a deep breath and stepped up to the door of Joe’s apartment. Tonight was the night that Joe and I would probably kiss. It had been a week or so since we officially met in his kitchen. Since yesterday we hadn’t spoken much about what almost happened, only texted about the details confirming our plans for today. I was coming over for dinner, and to continue the movie we were cut short on yesterday. As well as the other thing we were interrupted on. I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to eat anything, my stomach was so full of butterflies. But I mustered up the courage and knocked twice. He was probably in the kitchen prepping for dinner, so he opened the door almost immediately.

“Hey baby,” he said, pulling me into a hug with one arm, as the other hand was holding a wooden spoon. I blushed at the nickname, which sounded so sweet coming from his mouth.

“What’s with the uh--” I gestured to the blue checkered apron that he was wearing, holding back a chuckle.

“Oh you know, didn’t want to get pasta sauce on my nice clean shirt. Plus, it makes me look sexy, no?” This time I let out the chuckle. He was wearing a nice white button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to avoid splash back from the tomato sauce.

“That’s quite a bold move, cooking sauce with a white shirt on.” I said, entering the kitchen, smelling the sauce bubbling on the stove.

“You’re right. I should just strip down now, much safer.” he said with a wink, making me blush once again.

“And she stepped on the ball.” Joe said, concluding his story, as we had moved to the couch after dinner.

“Wow, that sure is something,” I said in between laughs. “Thanks for the wine by the way. It really classes things up.” I sipped on my white wine, thankful that we had talked about alcohol preferences already when we were getting to know each other.

“Don’t thank me, thank Ben. It’s his.” Joe said jokingly. While Ben was the one who bought it, Joe specifically requested it for this occasion. 

“Thanks Ben!” I called to the apartment.

“No use, he’s not home.” Joe said, setting his wine glass down on the coffee table. “Neither is Gwil.”

I took a deep breath, also setting down my glass, though I really just wanted to grip onto it for dear life. “Well then, please make sure to thank him for me when he returns…” I said, voice quivering a bit.

“Oh I will.” Joe said, voice also different. It was about an octave deeper than I had ever heard it before. He inched closer to me, placing a hand on my thigh. This caused me to inhale sharply, looking up at him over the rims of my glasses. I bit my lower lip nervously. That’s when Joe leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. It was chaste and sweet, and when I didn’t react by getting up and running away, he pressed his lips to mine once again. His hand moved up my thigh, onto my waist, pulling me closer to him as he deepened the kiss, parting my lips with his tongue. I allowed him access, feeling our tongues running over each other’s, feeling his quickening breath on my cheeks. Suddenly, his other hand grabbed my far thigh, and pulled me into a straddling position on his lap.

“Wait, wait--” I said breathlessly.

“What? What’s wrong? Did I put too much garlic in the sauce? Is this terrible for you?” He asked, frowning comically.

“No, that’s not it,” I laughed, placing a hand on his chest and swallowing for a moment. His heart was pounding, as was mine. “It’s just...I’ve never...done this before.” I admitted, looking down, avoiding his gaze.

“Never done what, make out before? Well you’re pretty damn good at it.” Joe said, rubbing his hands up and down the outside of my thighs.

“No, I’ve...I’ve never had sex before.” I said, whispering the last part.

“Well honey, this ain’t it…” Joe laughed, trying to make eye contact with me, who was still avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah but...it’s getting there.” I said, placing my hand pointedly on the bulge in the front of his pants, which I was dangerously close to sitting directly on.

“Ooh, fuck, don’t start something you can’t finish now…” he inhaled sharply through gritted teeth, eyelids fluttering shut as his head lolled back a bit onto the couch.

“I know, I know,” I said, retracting my hand apologetically. “I want to, it’s just...it’s a long story, I just don’t exactly want to get into it right now…”

“Michaela, don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do.” he said sweetly, moving his hands up to my back, rubbing gently to calm me down.

“I mean...I want to do this…” I said, placing my arms around his neck, playing gently with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Well, let’s fucking do it then.” he said, leaning back in to kiss me once more, but stopped short. “I mean...make out, y’know. Not like, DO IT do it, I just mean, like--”

“Shut up and kiss me Joey.” I laughed at his nervous bumbling, before pulling his head forward and kissing his still parted lips.

---------------------------

I spent the rest of the class trying to think of ways to talk to him without seeming weird or desperate. 

When the professor called for the end of class, I watched dejectedly as he hurried to put his things in his bag and rushed down his aisle. Next time, I hoped.

I sighed, slowly shutting my own laptop and shoving it into my bag before grabbing my coat. It wasn't until I went to turn and bumped into him that I noticed Gwilym standing directly behind me.

“Oh! Sorry- sorry I didn't see you-” I apologized quickly, trying to calm my racing heart.

“No no! It’s my fault! I should have said something,” he apologized back. A British accent? I could swoon on the spot.

We both paused for a second and laughed and I watched as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck nervously. God, he’s hot.

After a pause, he offered his hand to me, “I’m Gwilym.”

“Nice to meet you, Gwilym. I’m Ella,” I greeted back, trying to smother the giant smile on my face. We shook hands for a few seconds longer than what would probably be considered friendly but I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand out of his. He has such nice hands, Jesus.

Gwilym cocked his head to the side. “What? No comment on my unusual name?”

I grinned back, raising my eyebrows at him. “What? No Rihanna mention about my name?”

He looked at me questioningly. 

I rolled my eyes before semi-singing the song I’d long gotten used to people associating with my name, “stand under my umbrella, -Ella -Ella, eh eh eh, under my umbrella, -Ella -Ella.”

I watched the smile on his face grow as he recognized the lyrics easily, my heart beating slightly faster and my face warm in embarrassment. 

“Ah, well I suppose I should have made the connection–can I walk you to your next class?” he asked, stepping back to let me pass him and exit the aisle.

“Sure! And honestly, it's refreshing that you didn’t, I hear it so often it might as well be my theme song.”

I relished in the chuckle he gave, warm and deep and settling over me like a warm blanket. 

“Well then, you’re most welcome, m’lady,” he bowed, waiting for me to exit the room before him before catching up quickly. I laughed. Cute and funny, I am so fucked.

“So, what did you think of the lecture today? I personally am really enjoying the whole paradox side of things but that’s me.”

I sighed and squinted ahead of me down the hall.

“I really just… hate philosophy,” I said honestly, turning to watch his reaction. 

“I suppose it’s not for everyone,” he laughed easily in return, eyes meeting mine. “I could try and tutor you if you want? Meet at this nice cafe just off campus-” he paused suddenly, cheeks tingeing the slightest bit pink. “Of course not like a date! I mean- not that I don’t- eh- well I mean I was originally just-”

“Gwilym?”

“Yeah?” he answered, scrunching up his face as if he was waiting for the rejection.

“Go on a date with me,” I stated before I could stop myself.

“Wh- what?” he stuttered, stopping in his steps to gawk at me like I had three heads.

“Yeah. Go on a date with me. Lunch date. At that cafe you mentioned. Pick me up at… noon on Friday. Does that work?” I asked, slowing down and turning but still walking down the hall while Gwilym stood there with wide eyes.

“Yeah… yeah! Friday is perfect!” he agreed easily.

“Great! I’m over in Chatham, 116. Can’t wait!” I called, watching with a wide grin as he just nodded seriously at the information. I turned back forward and tried to remember to breathe as I pulled out my phone and texted M and Sarah.

“Guess who’s got a date on Friday with (1) Gwilym Lee :)))”

--- --- ---

I stared in the mirror conflicted, Michaela laid on my bed on her phone as I tried on at least a dozen different outfits. After settling on some of my nicer jeans and a cute sweater I was debating shoes.

“M, boots or flats for this?”

She looked over the outfit and cocked her head to the side. “I think the boots look better.”

“Really?” I questioned unsurely. “SARAH!” I yelled in the direction of my open doorway.

There was a loud thump, some muffled laughing, and then a second later Sarah came out of her room in one of Ben’s shirts and his boxers. “You called?”

“Boots or flats?” I asked again, turning to face her. 

She bit her lip and looked me over for a few seconds, in which time Ben emerged from her room in a pair of sweatpants to wrap his arms around her waist from behind.

“Boots,” Ben answered easily. Sarah turned her head to look at him with a dopey smile. “They make you look taller.”

“Boots,” Sarah agreed, not turning her head from looking at Ben until he turned his to look at her and their noses brushed against each other sweetly. 

I tried not to imagine doing that later with Gwilym. Too soon for all that. I turned back to the mirror and nodded, yanking off my single flat and pulling on another sock and my left boot. 

“So who’s the lucky date?” Ben asked, words half muffled by Sarah’s lips against his.

I shook my head at their lack of self-control before standing back up and looking over my outfit in the mirror again. “His name is Gwilym, he’s in my philosophy class,” I stated coyly, watching Ben’s eyes shoot up.

“Lee?”

“Yeah, you know him? Really tall guy, looks too sophisticated for frat parties,” I joked.

“Are you just setting everyone up then?!” Ben questioned Sarah in response. 

“What?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing as Sarah glanced between me and Ben nervously.

“What?! No! I- What are you even talking about, Ben?”

Ben rolled his eyes playfully. “You know he’s my flatmate, and you already set up Michaela and Joe. Now Ella and Gwil?”

“I thought Joe was your roommate?”

“I have two, how do you think we afford a three bedroom?”

“What? I’m… so lost.”

“Come on, I know I’ve told you this before. Now you’re setting up all my flatmates, I know it,” Ben insisted with a small smile.

Sarah turned to me with wide eyes. “No! I’m- Ella tell him! I had nothing to do with it this time I swear!”

Ben looked at me, awaiting my answer. 

I just shrugged. “She wasn’t involved as far as I know.”

Ben blew out a breath and pressed a kiss to Sarah’s cheek before moving to leave my room. “Alright, whatever you say, love. I should probably be getting back anyway, he’s probably out of his mind trying to get ready himself.” He shook his head with a grin and walked down the hall, pulling Sarah’s door shut behind him. We all looked at each other with wide eyes before Ben popped his head back out of Sarah’s room with a sheepish grin.

“Love, you still have my boxers.”

--- --- ---

I took several deep breaths as I heard the knock at our dorm room’s door. Sarah and Michaela stood off to the side and made excited hand motions for me to open it. I turned the knob and was greeted by Gwilym in a nice button down with a sweater over it looking the epitome of adorable, and a single small daisy.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

For a few seconds, we just grinned at each other, smiles getting increasingly wider before I shook myself out of the trance his blue eyes put me in.

“Oh! Come in, please. I just have to grab my wallet and then I’ll be all set. I’ll just-” I reached out and accepted the yellow flower from him, feeling the warmth of his presence settle over my heart once more. I pressed my lips together to keep my smile from getting too wide. “Thank you. I’ll grab a glass for this.”

Michaela’s eyebrows raised up as she watched me pass her toward my room and I shot her a warning glance.

“So Gwilym,” She started, looking to Sarah who shared her questioning smile.

“What are you majoring in?” Sarah started.

“I’m majoring in fine arts with a minor in English literature,” he answered easily, moving his hands to rest in his pants pockets.

I paused in my room to listen to the three of them talking without me.

“Fine arts… are you in theater with Ben?” Sarah asked curiously.

“Yeah! That’s how we met actually. We bonded over that and well, ehm, missing home.”

My heart ached a little at the confession.

“Yeah, he keeps talking about going back for the summer,” Sarah spoke.

“Where in the UK are you from, Gwilym?” Michaela asked.

“Oh! Well, I was born in Bristol and grew up in a small town in Birmingham. It’s quite lovely in the summer actually.”

I set the daisy on my desk and promised myself to put it in water later before finally walking back out.

“Ready?” Gwilym asked with an easy smile once he saw me put my wallet in my back pocket.

“For you? Always,” I smiled back playfully.

He offered his elbow out to me and I tried not to swoon too hard as I rested my hand over the crook of his arm. A true gentleman, what are the odds.

“I’ll be back in a bit, don’t burn down the dorm okay?” I joked, watching Michaela and Sarah nod in faux seriousness, making all sorts of gestures once Gwilym had turned to open the door and lead me out.

Once we were finally in the hallway and away from their prying ears, he seemed to relax a bit more.

“I hope I passed their test.”

I looked up at him in confusion, trying not to linger too close to his inviting warmth while we walked down the hall and out the front doors. “What test?”

“Ben said they’d test me- or well, that Sarah would.”

I laughed as the realization dawned on me. “Don’t trust either of them, they’re troublemakers,” I advised, relaxing even further in his presence and leaning into his side.

“Oh don’t I know it.”

The rest of the walk was relatively quite and awkward, very first date-esque. Though it was less uncomfortable with being out and more both of us just flustered by the other until we arrived. The cafe was small and cozy, feeling much more like a home more than a business, with plush recliners set into a sort of circle in the back corner. I followed closely behind Gwilym, smiling at an older couple that passed us as they exited. We stepped up to the counter and he ordered first before turning to me.

“Okay, and for you, love?”

I tried not to blush at the pet name as I answered, “oh, you don’t have to get me anything,” I said politely, shaking my head at his offer.

“Oh, but I do. This is a date isn’t it?” He asked, smile getting increasingly wider. 

“Well, yeah but-”

“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t at least get you a drink?”

My heart warmed at the statement and his teasing gaze before I ordered, still holding eye contact with him.

“I’ll have hot cocoa, please,” I stated, finally turning my eyes to the woman behind the counter, “extra marshmallows if you can.”

Gwilym let out a small laugh before pulling out his wallet and paying. We walked over and sat at one of the tables near the back and for a minute the normal awkwardness of a first date started seeping back in.

“So…” Gwilym started, eyes on the table as he rearranged the little packets of sugar provided. “Hot cocoa?”

I laughed a little. “I just don’t like coffee all that much. Just… never got into it.”

He just hummed in understanding, slowly nodding as we fell into a comfortable silence until our drinks were brought to us. “Ben’s the one who got me to start drinking it. I hated it at first, thought it was gross. But it's grown on me the longer I’ve been here,” he explained, slowly blowing across the top of the steaming cup.

I couldn’t help the dopey smile that came over my face while I pulled my mug closer to my chest for the warmth. Gwilym seemed to notice and creased his eyebrows. 

“Are you cold?”

“Just a little, but it's fine. I’m always cold anyway,” I said dismissively, taking a deep sip of my cocoa and smiling, “This helps too.”

He seemed to pause for a second before offering his hand out on the table, palm up. I tried to calm the rushing in my veins as I switched my cup to my other hand and gently rested my hand over his. He took in a sharp breath, “Christ, you are cold.” 

We both laughed for a second and I tried not to drop my cup when his hand closed over mine gently, holding tightly to my chilled fingers. For a second we just stared at each other, waiting to see if the other would say anything. When neither of us did he flicked his eyes down and back up to mine before taking a long drink of his coffee.

“So, what other classes are you taking besides the dreaded philosophy course?”

--- --- ---

I laughed while Gwilym recounted the story of the first time he and Ben had gotten drunk, walking slowly down the street and swinging our joined hands in between us. 

“-and then he decided it would be a great idea to take my mother’s antique china tea kettle and-”

“No!” I laughed in disbelief.

“Yes!” he confirmed with another gasping laugh, “yes, he thought it would be a good idea to pour the rum into the kettle and- and drink it out of the spout!”

I tried not to trip over myself as I laughed, reaching over to grip Gwilym’s arm so I wouldn’t fall over.

“I can’t believe that! I don’t think I’ve ever seen him anywhere near drunk! And he just- man, that’s hilarious!”

Gwilym continued to chuckle, eyes watching me continue to crack up over the story. My heart clenched again as we reached the walk up for my dorm and we stopped, turning to face each other. 

“So…” I said softly, looking down and staring at where our hands were joined, watching Gwilym brush his thumb over the back of my hand gently.

“So…” 

I sighed and dropped my head forward in defeat, “I should probably get inside, we’ve got philosophy on Monday and there’s supposed to be some quiz that I am vastly unprepared for so… yeah.”

“Well, you had fun at least, I hope?” he asked, only glancing up at me through his long eyelashes nervously before turning his eyes back down to our hands.

I grinned at him widely, “probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

“Good, I’m glad I didn’t bore you then,” he paused, licking his lips and drawing my eyes to them momentarily before he continued. “Would, uh… would it be alright if I walked you to philosophy on Monday? It's on my way anyways because I stop by the cafe every morning for coffee,” he asked sheepishly. 

My heart leapt in my chest and I couldn’t contain the enormous smile that overcame my face at the thought of seeing him again. “Yeah! Yeah, that’d be great!”

We both laughed a little awkwardly and paused before looking back at each other again. Just when I thought I was going to have to be the one to say goodnight first he spoke up suddenly.

“Are you free on Friday night?”

I bit my lip to hide my wide smile, “I might be. What did you have in mind?”

“I, ehm… well, I’m in this… production. It’s nothing special, very small and, eh, not the best but I was wondering if maybe you’d come watch me in it and perhaps I could... take you out for dinner after?” he proposed hopefully.

“That sounds amazing, I can’t wait to see you in it!” I said honestly. “Why don’t you, uh-” I paused to pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up a new contact. “Why don’t you just put in your number and I’ll text you for the details.”

I watched with a smile while he typed, concentrated on the task before handing it back to me. I laughed a little when I saw he had just put his name as ‘Gwil’, making him look at me in question.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just... never thought of you with a nickname I guess,” I smiled. “You’re a very proper kind of guy, very professional.”

“Ah, see but you’ve never seen me drunk,” he pointed out.

“We’ll have to do that sometime too,” I laughed, “you’ll get to see how clumsy I really am.”

Another moment of silence passed and the now lowering sun was beginning to hit the treetops and spread shadows across the ground. 

I sighed deeply, not wanting to leave yet.

“I’ll let you get inside love, don’t want your roommates to get too worried I’ve stolen you off,” Gwil smiled sweetly.

“I guess you’re right...”

“Goodnight Ella, I’ll drop by Monday morning then,” he promised, bringing my left hand up to his lips briefly to press a sweet kiss against my knuckles. 

My heart fluttered in my chest.

“Goodnight Gwilym, I’ll see you then.”

I tried not to watch him leave too hard but as I slowly made the walk up to my dorm I couldn’t help but stare. God, he has such a nice ass.

I practically floated down the hall to the section I shared with Michaela and Sarah, not even registering putting my key in the lock or opening the door, too immersed in the fresh memories of my first date with Gwilym. When I finally came back to reality I was leaning up against the closed door staring off at the ceiling like an actress in some cheesy romcom.

“She’s back,” Michaela sang from her doorway, making Sarah dart around the corner to look at me as well.

“Well, look at you, you’re all… glowy and shit,” Sarah remarked, both her and Mic coming closer to look me over. 

I stood up straight and crossed my arms defensively, “I- I am not glowy.”

“Did you guys fuck?”

“Sarah!”

“What? It’s a serious question, I mean look at her!”

I blushed and laughed thinking of someone like Gwil fucking on the first date.

“No, we didn’t fuck, we just… we went out for coffee and-”

“You hate coffee,” Michaela interjected.

“I got hot cocoa instead,” I corrected, “and he told me that he used to hate coffee too until he and Ben came to America and Ben got obsessed with it.” I paused, thinking over the night again and grinning at all the dumb topics we talked about. “He touched my hand too, he was worried I was cold and I told him I always am so it's fine but he insisted on holding my hand the rest of the night to keep me warm,” I said wistfully, holding my left hand in my right and trying to remember the warmth.

“That is so fucking cute,” Sarah stated bluntly.

“He’s picking me up for class on Monday.”

“He is?!” Sarah and M asked in unison. 

I nodded. “And we have another date on Friday.”

“Look at you go, fucking get that dick,” Sarah praised, making me and M laugh.

“Hopefully at one point, but maybe I’ll just look forward to the second date first,” I grinned.

“That’s adorable,” M whispered under her breath while I passed them to get to my room. 

Finally, I closed the door and took off my boots, changing into some pajamas and then jumping and landing on my bed comfortably. For a while I just laid there, replaying the date over and over in my head. Just as I went to turn and pull my lamp cord something on my desk caught my eye and brought the smile back to my face.

My single yellow daisy.

--- --- ---

alright guys!! this is part 7 so its time to get into this mf series !!!!! we post about every week or so and this shit is getting good! if you wanna be tagged shoot any of us an ask or message and we’ll add you to the list! thanks for reading loves!!

“No, no. He’s a frat dude, Ella. You know that’s not my thing.” I finally tear my eyes away from cute blonde boy to focus on the task at hand: keg tapping. As I line the notches of the tap with the hole of the keg, a voice stops me.

“Need some help with that?” Some part of me hopes it’s cute blonde boy, but when I look up, that hope disappears. It’s not cute blonde boy, just another generic frat guy.

“Uh, no thank you. I can handle it.” Now go away.

“You sure? No offense but these things have a tendency to explode whenever a girl tries to tap it.” Jesus. Where the hell is Ella?

I scoff and contemplate punching him. Instead, I screw the tap into place and push down, sliding it into place. Grabbing a solo cup, I pour myself a pint and stare at this douchebag straight in the eye until the cup is completely full.

“Nope, I think I got it.”

“Wow, impressive.”

“Okay, I’m walking away now.” I manage to take about two steps before I feel his grip around my elbow.

“Whoa, whoa. Hang on a second.” He spins me around so I’m facing him again. Maybe I am going to punch someone tonight. This is truly the last time I come to a frat party.

“I have to go find my friend actually. She was right next to me a second ago.” My eyes scan the room, searching desperately for Ella who I may or may not need to come rescue me from this asshole.

“What’s your name?” He asks, ignoring my previous statement.

“Could you not grip my arm when you’re talking to me?” I try to twist my arm out of his grip but he’s unfortunately much stronger than I am.

“Someone ought to teach you some manners, sweetheart.” His lips are inches from my ear and I immediately push him off.

“You’re one to talk you fucking assho— “

“HEY,” Another voice chimes in, “Pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to you, mate.” Holy shit. It’s cute blonde boy. He’s stepped in between me and the jackass, arm held out in front of me as if to create some kind of protective barrier. A couple bystanders have begun to notice the situation and watch to see if these guys start throwing fists.

“Alright, whatever, she’s all yours.” The jackass walks away with his hands up in surrender. Thank God. If there had really been a fight I’m not sure what I would’ve done.

Once he’s gone, cute blonde boy turns around to face me.

“Hey, hear that? How kind of him to hand me over like that. We were really hitting it off too.” I say sarcastically. He laughs.

“You okay?” Whoa. He’s got a deep, British accent.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thank you for that. I wish I could say that’s the first or last time that’s bound to happen.”

“It’s not something you should have to get used to.” He sounds genuine. Interesting. “I’m not sure why I keep coming to these parties. All these guys are the worst.”

“You’re not one of them?” The plot thickens. He looks slightly offended at the question.

“Do I come off as one?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.” I can’t help it; I smile. “We just met.” He smiles back.

“Right, yeah. That’s fair.” He looks down and brings his fingers up to his bottom lip and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. Damn he’s cute.

“And you do have that classic frat look, you know? Kinda hot, kinda douchey.” He looks up again. Shit.

“So you think I’m hot?” Damn.

“And douchey, lest we forget that part.” I say as I accusingly point at him. He doesn’t respond, just laughs. His eyes are so green. I’m staring again. Okay, take a sip of your beer, Sarah.

“Eugh. That’s a little too lukewarm for my taste.” I say as I set the cup down on a nearby table. Which is partially true but mostly I’m just trying to keep the conversation going.

“Well, we could always go somewhere else.” He suggests.

“Uh, well I think this is pretty much the extent of the drink choices.” I say, gesturing to the disgusting table with various handles. Maybe I will just switch to liquor if I’m gonna spend any more time with cute blonde boy.

“Oh, no I mean we could get out of here. Leave the party.” He says casually.

“Whoa whoa, easy. I don’t even know your name.” He’s already asking me back to his place?

“NO n—I didn’t mean... like we can find a bar or take a walk or something.” He stutters through the suggestion, his cheeks turning a bit pink. I stay silent and smile at his slight embarrassment. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben. And I actually would love to leave this place.” Where the HELL is Ella? “Have you seen my friend though? She was standing with me earlier.”

“Earlier? Like when you were shamelessly staring at me playing beer pong?” His tongue sticks out of his mouth ever so slightly as he smiles and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. My jaw drops.

“Excuse me! I’m pretty sure it was you staring at me.”

“Sure, sure.” He mumbles.

“Plus you were barely even playing. Your friend seemed to be carrying most of the weight there.” I accuse him.

“Yeah, well I get bored at these things easily, hence my wanting to go somewhere else.”

“These parties do get old quick, I’ll give you that.” I pause, looking at him intently while wondering if I’m really gonna leave with a man I just met. He did just save me from a frat douchebag and for some reason I find myself trusting him.

“So, are you really up for ditching it?”

“I really am. Let me just find my friend first and let her know.”

We both do a quick scan of the room before finding her engrossed in a game of pong. She’s in her element. A couple of guys are watching her as she downs a beer like it’s no problem.

“Ella!” I walk towards her, Ben following behind me.

“Sarah! Be my partner! We could destroy these assholes.”

“You’re not wrong but I actually came to check on you. I think I’m gonna head out.”

“What?! You’re leaving?”

“Well,” I look behind me to make sure Ben isn’t too close. “Remember that blonde guy who was staring at me earlier? I’m leaving with him.” Her eyes widen. She steals a glance at him, standing a good length away talking to another one of his friends.

“Well, damn girl.” She looks at him again.

“Ella, stop! Don’t be obvious.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” She’s still looking in their direction. “Who’s his friend? I think he’s in my philosophy class.” I follow her gaze to see Ben talking somewhat intensely to another tall, dark haired guy who looks way too sophisticated to be at a frat house.

“I don’t know. He’s cute though.” I admit. She continues to stare at the friend, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’ll say.”

“Alright, down girl.” We laugh. “Are you good? Will you be okay without me?”

“Yeah! Go be with surfer boy.” She clears her throat. “He’s coming. Be cool.” We both adjust our stance so we’re standing up a little straighter.

“You ready?” Ben is suddenly right behind me, hand on the small of my back.

“Yeah let’s go.” I turn back to Ella. “Hey! Call me if you need me.” She nods and makes obscene gestures as I walk out with Ben.

“Her name’s Ella?” He asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“My mate was just asking me about her. Thinks she’s cute or something.” I laugh knowingly. Looks like Ella’s in for a good time tonight too.

“Wait, before we leave…” I stop him from walking any further.

“What?”

“Wait here. I’m gonna steal a handle.”

“You’re gonna—what?” His accent is so strong. Even the way he says ‘what’ is hot.

“Wait here!” I exclaim as I walk back onto the back deck. Tonight wasn’t the night to wear a velvet crop top. Looks like I’m gonna improvise. Doing another quick scan of the options, I spot a larger handle of Fireball on a small table in the corner. That’ll work, but how will I hide it? Can’t hide it. Alright, Plan B then.

Grabbing the handle as quickly as possible, I tuck it under my arm and speed walk to where I left Ben.. Grabbing his hand with my free one, I urge him.

“C’mon let’s go!”

“Wait wha—I—okay.” He stutters but follows my motions as we briskly walk out of the house as fast as we can without looking too suspicious. Luckily, it’s a mess inside the house so if anyone notices, they don’t stop us. We make it out the front door and he’s laughing in a confused manner, our hands still linked.

“Mission accomplished.” I say, holding up the Fireball as we walk down the street.

“Fireball? You smuggled Fireball.”

“The classics never go out of style, Benjamin.” I defend my liquor of the choice.

“It’s just Ben.”

“It’s not.”

“What do you mean it’s not?” His voice raises an octave but he chuckles.

“If we’re going to be friends you’re gonna have to get used to me calling you by your full name. It’s my thing.”

“You’re really gonna call me that?” He says in mild disbelief.

“Only in certain situations.” Now I’m laughing. This whole situation is weird. I’m walking down a random street, holding hands with a guy I just met, with a handle of Fireball tucked under my arm.

“You know I still don’t know your name” He points out.

“Uh... They call me Trixie on the weekends.” I joke, not sure if I should really give him my real name.

“Wait wh— “

“Yeah it’s a tough line of work but the money’s good.” I say as deadpan as I possibly can. He stops walking.

“Are you joking?” His eyes squint a bit as he asks. I take this opportunity to drop his hand and open the Fireball, taking a swig as I start laughing.

“Yes,” He shakes his head, “But you almost believed me, didn’t you? I like that. I’m Sarah.”

“I think I’m still gonna call you Trixie.” He’s still shaking his head but he starts walking again. “Pass that over.”

“I think I’m more of a Trixie, honestly.” I say as I hand him the bottle. I want to hold his hand again but that’s weird, right? Probably not a good idea. If I’m being honest what I really want to do is jump him right here in the street but that’s definitely weird. Don’t wanna come off too strong.

“I’m gonna hold your hand again, okay?” He declares, catching me completely off guard.

“Works for me.” I exhale as he links our fingers again. Thank God it’s so dark outside because I am absolutely positive I’m blushing.

“So, Trixie,” He drags out the name. I’m already regretting that bit. “Where to now?”

“Well I think we’re set on drinks,” I say motioning to the full handle, “So, let’s just keep walking? See what we find.”

“Works for me.” He almost whispers. How is one person’s voice so deep?

“Much better than a frat party, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. One good thing came from that party.” He smirks.

We’ve been walking down this random street for a while now and I’m extremely glad I decided to take an Uber to that damn party instead of drive. I’m also glad I wore converse instead of the uncomfortable flats Michaela suggested. It’s been about an hour and Ben’s managed to cover a fairly wide range of topics. He’s not in a fraternity, though one of his roommates, Joe, is, hence his attendance at tonight’s party and quite a few others. He’s studying acting and drama in school and he moved to the U.S. because he thought it would give him a better chance at being successful in the business, but he misses home a lot and travels back as much as he can. Despite being incredibly attractive, he doesn’t seem to use it to his advantage which means my first impression was wrong. He hasn’t let go of my hand nor has he made any attempt to take things much further. Refreshing and I guess kind of infuriating because the more he talks, the further I do want to take it. Damn the brits and their tendencies to be perfect gentlemen.

“Are you hungry at all?” He asks.

“I could eat, yeah.” Oh right, forgot to mention that I haven’t eaten since before the party and I’ve now drank a significant amount of Fireball. I’m playing it off though. I think.

“I only ask because you’re stumbling a little.” Okay, maybe not.

“Right, well this sidewalk isn’t paved very well.”

“I’ve heard Fireball can do that. Put cracks and bumps into pavement and whatnot.” He says sarcastically.

“Benjamin. Was that a joke? You’re making jokes at my expense now.” I accuse as I put my hand on my chest like a 19th century Southern woman. He shrugs.

“I’m just trying to keep up with you. Which is becoming easier because you’re, you know, stumbling.”

This is good, us bantering like this. Everything feels light and a bit less real so there’s no pressure. I find myself hoping we continue this for the rest of tonight. Maybe even tomorrow morning. Damn he’s already got me breaking my rules? Not good. Or maybe good? Ugh.

“Well if you would drink your share of the Fireball, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Sarah, it’s Fireball.”

“Oh god, sorry there were no mojitos for me to swipe.” His drink of choice, as I had learned. “I’ll make a mental note for next time.”

“Next time? You plan on stealing alcohol from a frat party again?”

“I think you could talk me into almost anything, Benjamin.” He blushes at this and stutters a little bit, like he’s thinking about what exactly he wants to talk me into. Good.

“Except I didn’t talk you into this! You did that all on your own.”

“Uh huh. Good luck finding someone to believe that. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite the troublemaker.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He shakes his head while smiling. Have I mentioned how much I wanna jump him? Damn I’m tipsy.

“You mentioned food. You have something in mind? Because I don’t even know where we are.” I admit. We’re definitely still in the same neighborhood as the frat house because all we’ve passed are houses but I’m hoping, since he apparently frequents that frat house, he has an idea of what else is around us.

“I know a place. Come on, drunky.” He pulls my hand in the other direction and I briefly lose my balance, using his shoulder to steady myself. We’re inches away from each other, his green eyes directly in front of my face. “Sidewalk trip you up again? Someone should really repave this.” Before I can even respond, he turns away and starts walking again.

I exhale shakily and follow him, weak in the knees for a brand new reason.

“A taco truck?”

It was another fifteen minute walk to get to our destination: a food truck that Ben apparently frequents after he’s been out all night. It’s parked in the middle of a nearby town center that I know I’ve been to before but never found a reason to go back.

“It’s really good, I promise.”

As we walk up to the counter, he lets go of my hand and puts it on the small of my back, leading me to look at the menu. To be honest, I’m not really that hungry but I know I should eat because I don’t want to stop drinking but I also don’t want to keep making a fool of myself.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” I say looking at the menu. He’s looking at me though, rubbing my back with his thumb. I can’t honestly be expected to be focused on food when he’s touching me like this. The fucker.

“You trust me then?” He asks innocently.

“Well you did save me earlier tonight so that means you’ve earned my trust.”

“I won’t let you down.” He winks. I go to grab the Fireball that’s in his other hand but he holds it away from me, just out of reach. “Oh, no. You’re eating first.” We’re standing face to face now.

“Stop teasing me then.” I whisper.

“Can’t handle it?” He whispers back. That’s it. I lift my face, about to kiss him.

“What can I get you guys?” The truck owner comes out of nowhere. We both jump back from each other. Dammit.

“Uhm.” Good. He’s flustered too. “Four chicken tacos and two waters, please.”

“Both of those waters are for him. He’s been drinking all night. Needs to sober up.” I say to the truck owner. Ben looks at me accusingly.

“I have not been--”

“C’mon Ben you’ve been gripping that Fireball for hours. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The truck owner laughs, glancing down at the half empty handle in Ben’s hand. I can see how bad he wants to deny it but he doesn’t. Just stares at me in disbelief as I remain completely stagnant. Keep teasing, baby. Two can play.

“Four chicken tacos, coming up.” The man says, still smiling as he walks back to the kitchen.

“Cheap move. You’re not getting away with that.” Ben says once he’s gone.

“I certainly hope not.” I say, stepping a bit closer to him, looking up at him through my lashes. I link my finger through his belt loop and pull him closer to me. “Do something about it.”

“Christ.” He curses, looking away. “We’re in public.”

“Aw. Can’t handle it?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he scoffs and bites his lip. He lifts his hand and cups my face, stroking his thumb against my cheek. His eyes flit to my lips and I swear he’s about to kiss me but again, he doesn’t.

“I can handle it.” He whispers. I swallow, trying to control my breathing.

My heart is slamming against my chest and I have to clench my thighs together. His effect on me is unbelievable but I know he feels it too. We’re inches away but I can’t bring myself to react. I just stare into his bright green eyes, quickly down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. His thumb is still rubbing my cheek and I contemplate bringing it to my mouth.

“Here you are. Four chicken tacos and two waters.” I blink repeatedly and step away from Ben, shaking my head trying to clear my impure thoughts.

“Thanks, mate. Sarah, will you grab them?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” I stutter. Ben smirks, knowing my inability to focus is because of what just happened. He pays the truck owner, telling him to keep the change.

“C’mon, let’s go.” I expect him to hold his hand out for me to take, but his are full and so are mine. Damn. Now how am I supposed to walk straight?

“Let’s sit here.”

After continuing to walk around for a while, Ben has led us to a local park in the neighborhood we were in earlier. We’ve managed to revert back into normal conversation and bantering, not acknowledging the turn of events at the food truck. We haven’t eaten yet but I can feel myself sobering up a bit, as I have to keep forcing myself to focus on the words Ben is saying and not thinking about what he’d look like between my thighs.

“You know this area pretty well. You bring a lot of girls around?” I joke.

“Ha, yeah. Deserted parks in the middle of the night are my go-to date spot.”

“It does have a certain ambiance, I suppose. If you’re, you know… a serial killer.” He sits on the bench and laughs pretty loud. The sound gives me that same feeling in my chest from earlier and I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

“I honestly don’t have a response to that.” He’s still chuckling. “But I’m definitely not a serial killer.”

“Good to know.” I say as I sit down next to him.

We sit in silence for a bit, both of us just eating our tacos and drinking the water. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. It’s serene, like we’ve known each other for years and are simply enjoying being near each other for the first time in a while. He looks out at the park ahead of us and I find myself staring at him again. My eyes wander from his sharp jawline to his full, pink lips to his messy blonde hair. He’s so goddamn beautiful and I’d bet anything he doesn’t even have to try.

“You’re staring again.” He finally speaks.

“Yeah I am.” I don’t even deny it. He’s gonna have to get used to it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, still looking away from me. Hm, to be honest or no? I could tell him exactly what I’m thinking right here and now. But no, it’s too easy.

“I’m wondering why you haven’t given me back the Fireball yet.” He laughs, again. Nope, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. He reaches down to pick up the fireball and hands the bottle to me. I unscrew the cap and take a fairly sizable swig.

“Alright take it easy, Trixie.”

“Well, you drink some!” I say as I offer the bottle back to him.

“I’m okay, babe, really.” My breath hitches at the nickname. “I do have a confession to make though.”

“Oh?” Is this it? I don’t know how I feel about fucking in the middle of a public park but hey I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“I smoke cigarettes and I’m feeling the urge to light one right now but I don’t want to if it’ll make you sick or uncomfortable. Do you mind?”

“Usually, yes but I’ll make an exception for now.” I really thought he was going to ask to fuck in a public park? Jesus. What’s wrong with me?

“Because I’m hot?”

“AND douchey. Will you let that go?”

“Never.”

He removes a carton of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket and takes out two, putting one between his teeth and the other behind his ear. It’s hot, but not as hot as his fingers expertly flicking the lighter and then him taking a long drag, blowing out the smoke as he exhales.

We sit in silence for a bit again. Him continuing to smoke his cigarette and me taking swigs from the handle. I’m torn between wanting to hear his voice again and wanting to sit in the comfortable silence. It’s impossible to look away as he continues to take drags from his cigarette. I know how bad it is but fuck if he doesn’t look irresistible doing it. If he notices, he doesn’t mind but the more I drink, the more antsy I get.

“How long have you been smoking?” I ask, deciding I want to hear his voice again.

“Too long.”

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Yeah, it’s not as easy as they say.”

“Well, here I’ll help you.” I take the cigarette out of his hand and take a drag from it. He watches in shock. I know he’s expecting me to cough but I don’t.

“You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” I admit, taking another drag.

“Holy shit.” He says under his breath. I then throw the cigarette on the ground and step on it, effectively putting it out. “Hey! That wasn’t quite done yet.”

“I know. I said I’d help you quit, remember?” He stares at me in disbelief.

“You’re…” He starts, not able to find the words.

“I’m… what?”

“Something.” He says finally.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Benjamin.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Never.” I repeat his statement from earlier.

Hours have passed and we’re still sitting on this damn park bench, talking about anything and everything. The craziest part is that I don’t think either of us ever made a solid effort to go home or get the other back to their place. No, the subjects have been limited to favorite movies, books, our families, an explanation of our tattoos, and even a brief discussion of male celebrity crushes. He’s put his hand on my knee a few times and I’ve found excuses to occasionally put mine on his chest and shoulders but still, we keep our hands to ourselves.

“What time is it?” I ask, finally coming to the realization that it’s starting to get light outside. He takes his phone out for the first time that night, which reminds me that I haven’t checked in with Ella or Michaela. Shit.

“Whoa. It’s 6:30. I have class in two hours.”

“Oh my god.” I don’t mean to say it outloud but I can’t help it. “We’ve been out all night?”

“Disappointed?”

“No,” I smile, “definitely worth it.”

“Let’s get you back then.” He stands and offers his hand.

He’s kind enough to order an Uber back to my place, having me dropped off before he goes to class. We’re riding in silence in the back of the car, his hand on my thigh the whole way back. I really might combust but it’s probably too soon to ask him to finger me in the back of an Uber.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for this. Seriously, between saving me from that jackass and feeding me when I’m drunk I had a really, really good time.”

“Me too.” He smiles, and squeezes my thigh. Seriously, is it too soon? I could move his hand a little further north and we’d be good to go.

“Here you are!” The driver announces. Ben gets out first, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. Such a gentleman. I can definitely work with that.

“One second.” Ben tells the driver, signaling him to wait and then walking me up to my door. “So...” he starts.

“So...” I respond.

“We should do this again.”

“This exactly?”

“Well, no.” He laughs. There’s a lull.

“I’d invite you up but--”

“I’d accept.”

“Skip class.” The words are out before I can stop them.

“Wow. You’re a bad influence.”

“Sorry.” I laugh. “I thought that had been established.”

“I wish I could but I can’t today. We’re doing monologues.”

“Another time then?” I know how needy I sound but I really can’t help it.

“Of course.” He brings his hand up and cups my face again. I decide that this time I’m not taking a chance, if he’s not going to do it then I will. I fist his t-shirt in my hand and bring him to me, crashing his lips onto mine. He’s still for a second, obviously surprised, but his lips slowly begin to work against mine until they’re moving in perfect synchronization. He moves his hands down to my waist as mine work their way into his hair, lightly fisting his blonde curls. And it’s perfect. All of it. His lips are so soft and his quiet moans are fueling my every movement, desperately trying to be as close to him as I possibly can. It’s so perfect that when he pulls away I actually, verbally whine.

“God, I wanna stay.” He whispers, still inches away from me.

“But you can’t.” He brings his hands back up to cup my face and kisses me quickly one more time.

“I want to.” He insists.

“I believe you.” I laugh. “Here, give me your phone.”

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to me. I put my number in under ‘Trixie’ and hand it back to him.

“Trixie.” He smiles at the name.

“Text me, okay?” I say as I start to walk into the doorway.

“Wait.” He stops me by grabbing my hand and kisses me again. He tries to make it quick but I put my hand on the back of his head, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth and it might be the one sound I love more than his laugh. His hands are around my waist again for one second until he pulls away. “Oh, I’m in trouble.” He sighs, his forehead resting against mine.

“Go to class.” I say lightly pushing his chest away from me.

“See you later, babe.” He winks as he walks away and gets into the Uber.

I close the door behind me and lean against it for a second, fisting my hair in my hands and shutting my eyes closed tight.

“FUCK.” I yell to no one in particular.

“Sarah?” I recognize Ella’s voice before I see her come out of her room. “Did you just get back?

“Yep.” I admit, my hands still in my hair as I exhale obnoxiously and smile.

“Damn, that good?” She asks.

“We didn’t fuck.”

“Oh... then... What’s up with you?”

I start from the beginning, telling her the whole story and leaving absolutely no details out. Of course, as soon as I’m finished, Michaela walks out of her room. She takes in the scene; me completely flustered and Ella literally on the edge of her seat.

“Um… What’s going on?”

“You are never skipping another party.” Ella responds.

“And he’s BRITISH? Like he’s actually British?”

“Yes, Mic for the 800th time he’s really, actually British. Or he’s an expert at faking accents.”

The three of us had moved to our dining room where I proceeded to tell Michaela the entire story. Ella gets just as excited as she did the first time, sometimes even stopping me at certain parts.

“THIS is the best part oh my god, yeah.”

“UGH I love this.”

“I still CANNOT believe he really did that, wow.”

So, yeah. It’s been an eventful morning of excited storytelling and obsessing over Ben’s teasing and British-ness. At some point, Michaela asked me for his last name which I realize I never got, but that doesn’t stop Ella from pulling out her laptop and trying to find him on social media anyway. Since she’s an expert who should probably work for the FBI, it doesn’t take her long.

“FOUND HIM.” She squints at her laptop screen. “Ben Hardy.”

“Hardy? That’s fitting, I guess.” I say as I pull my chair up next to hers. Mic brings hers to the other side, so we’re all collectively stalking his facebook page.

“Oh my GOD.” Mic exclaims. “THAT’S him?!”

Ella has his profile picture pulled up and yes, it’s a very good photo of him. I get that feeling in my chest again just looking at his picture. Damn him.

“Yes,” I laugh a bit. “That’s him.”

“Sarah, you are absolutely fucking with me.”

“I am NOT fucking with you! That’s really him!”

“He’s so HOT.” She emphasizes the last word. I put my head into my hands, hysterically laughing.

“I TOLD you.” Ella chimes in as she continues scrolling through his tagged photos. “Hey, that’s his cute friend I saw… and that’s his beer pong partner.” She points to a photo of four boys sitting very close in what looks like a dorm room, Ben on the bottom right.

“Did you end up talking to him?” I ask.

“No, I never got a chance to.”

“Oh, bummer. Ben said he thought you were cute.” I share. She stares at me accusingly.

“He what?! And you’re just now telling me this?”

“Well... I...”

“Who’s his beer pong partner?” Mic ignores us, pointing to the auburn haired boy in the photo. Ella clicks on the picture so the tags show all of their names.

“Oh, Joe. That’s his roommate who’s in the fraternity.” I repeat Ben’s words.

“He’s…” Mic starts but trails off. Ella and I look at her, wide eyed, waiting for her to finish.

“Cute? You can say it, M.”

“He’s… yeah. He’s cute, fine.” She admits, crossing her arms and huffing. Ella and I smirk knowingly at each other. “Oh, fuck off.” She curses at us.

“Gwilym.” Ella says out of nowhere.

“What?”

“That’s his cute friend’s name.”

“Who also thinks you’re cute.” I tease her.

“I’ll have to decide what I’m gonna do about that.” She flips her hair and smirks. Ella’s a master at her craft and I smile, excited to watch her work on this Gwilym. As for Joe, well I’m definitely hatching a plan to get him and Mic in a room together.

At that moment, my phone buzzes, breaking me out of my mental plan making. A text from a number I don’t have saved shows.

“I know she only works on Saturdays but is there any chance Trixie is available tonight?”

It’s Ben.

“Guys.” I get my friends’ attention and show them the text.

“TRIXIE, oh my GOD. I’m going to cry.” Michaela exclaims, causing me to burst into laughter once again. I’m so giggly at everything he says. How fuckin’ lame.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Ella asks.

“I think so.” I admit, trying to think of something to respond. I save his name in my phone as ‘Benjamin’ and type out:

“I suppose she can make an exception for this very special case. It just so happens I have mojito ingredients at my place.”

Since both of my friends are looking over my shoulder as I type, Ella chimes in.

“You’re gonna bring him here?”

“Should I not?”

“Well… you’re definitely getting laid tonight.” She accuses, sticking her tongue out. I look at Mic for confirmation and she shrugs.

“Not necessarily.” I try to deny it but I definitely knew what I was doing. “Is this bad? I’m a slut.” They both laugh.

“We been knew.” Ella says.

“I won’t make it too easy.” I defend.

“You better not be referring to my mojito ingredients.” Mic chimes in. I don’t respond because I definitely was but I’ll run out and get my own. Maybe. My phone buzzes again. He responds quick, I like it.

“Well, it’s hard to say no to that. I’ll come by around 7?”

I type out a quick confirmation and send him our address, just in case he didn’t save it from this morning.

“It’s a date. See you then, gorgeous. Xx”

I read his response and smile like a goddamn idiot. My friends ask what he said so I show them. Their faces light up the same way as mine.

“Use protection.” Ella warns.

“Or, you know… don’t.” Mic suggests.

“MIC!”