#cfb blurb

Easter morning in the Manning house is loud. It always has been.

There’s no such thing as a quiet holiday when you’ve got siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and at least three people arguing over who burned the biscuits. Arch is used to it, the chaos, the overlapping conversations, the constant movement.

What he’s not used to is watching someone else fit into it like they were always meant to be there.

He leans against the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand, barely even aware that he hasn’t taken a sip yet. Because his eyes are stuck on you.

You’re standing at the island with May and Heid, laughing about something, he doesn’t even catch what. May’s showing you how their mom decorates Easter cookies every year, and Heid is trying (and failing) to sneak frosting off the tray without getting caught.

“You’re definitely the troublemaker,” you say, nudging Heid lightly.

Heid grins. “You caught on quick.”

“And you’re the favorite,” you add, pointing at May.

May gasps dramatically. “Finally, someone sees it!”

Arch huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

It’s easy. That’s the first thing he notices.

There’s no awkwardness. No hesitation. You’re not trying too hard, and you’re not holding back either. You’re just being you. And somehow, that works perfectly here.

Like you’ve known them forever. Like you belong here. His chest does something weird, tight, but not in a bad way. More like something settling into place. His mom walks up beside him, following his line of sight.

“She’s doing alright,” she says casually.

Arch nods, a little too quickly. “Yeah. I mean-yeah, she is.”

His mom hums, clearly noticing more than she’s saying.

And Arch looks back at you just in time to see you laugh again, head tilting back slightly, sunlight catching in your hair through the kitchen window.

And it hits him, soft, but undeniable. This feels right. Not in a big, overwhelming way.

A thought that slips in without asking: She could be part of this. For real.

He exhales slowly, finally taking a sip of his coffee. And for the first time that morning, everything feels…steady.

Y/N POV:

I was nervous. Like, really nervous.

Meeting your boyfriend’s family is one thing. Meeting this family, big, loud, close-knit, and very much involved in each other’s lives. Is something else entirely.

But somehow it’s not as scary as I thought it would be.

May is easy to talk to. She’s funny and welcoming and immediately pulled you into helping with breakfast like you’d been doing it for years.

And Heid? He’s exactly the kind of brother you expected Arch to have, teasing, a little chaotic, but sweet underneath it.

“You’re gonna need to learn how to dodge questions,” Heid tells you, leaning closer like he’s sharing a secret. “Our Aunts get intense.”

You laugh. “Good to know. I’ll stay near you for protection.”

“Smart choice,” he says, nodding seriously.

May rolls her eyes. “He’s the worst person to rely on.”

“I’m offended.”

“You should be.”

I laugh again, feeling the last bit of my nerves fade.

Because this feels good. Normal. I glance across the room and catch Arch watching me from the doorway, my smile softens.

He looks quiet. Not in a bad way. Just observing.

I raise an eyebrow slightly and mouth what? He just shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, like he doesn’t even have the words.

And something about that makes my heart flip.

Arch POV:

The Easter egg hunt is chaos.

Kids running everywhere, bright plastic eggs scattered across the yard, someone already arguing about who found the most and it hasn’t even been five minutes.

I stand off to the side with my uncles, half-listening to whatever they’re saying.

Because, again, my attention is somewhere else. Y/N.

One of my younger cousins, Caroline, grabs Y/N’s hand and tugs her toward the far end of the yard.

Y/N POV

“Come on! You have to help me!”

“With what?” I ask, already letting her drag you along.

“The good eggs! The ones with money!”

I gasp dramatically. “Oh, those are serious. Okay, yeah-we need a strategy.”

Arch POV:

I chuckled under my breath.

Of course you’d take it seriously.

But then it becomes something more.

She crouches down next to Caroline, pointing toward a cluster of bushes. “Okay, if I were hiding eggs, I’d put them somewhere sneaky but still findable. Like…there.”

Y/N POV:

Caroline narrows her eyes. “You’re good at this.”

“I like winning,” I whisper.

She grins. “Me too.”

And then we both take off running.

Arch POV:

I watch her as she helps the kids, not just Caroline, but a few of the younger ones who start following her around like she’s been assigned as their official team leader.

She’s laughing, cheering them on, clapping when they find eggs like it’s the biggest accomplishment in the world.

Y/N POV:

At one point, one of the little girls asks me to do a cartwheel. And I don’t hesitate.

I hand my basket to one of the kids, step back and do a perfect cartwheel across the grass.

The girls lose it, cheering and immediately trying to copy me.

“Okay, okay arms up first!” you say, helping one of them position her hands.

Arch POV:

I felt something in his chest hit harder this time.

Not soft, not quiet.

Clear. Loud. Certain.

I’m not just noticing how well you fit anymore. I’m seeing how she shows up. How she care. How she gives your attention fully, like nothing else matters in that moment.

She’s not doing it to impress anyone. She’s not even looking around to see if anyone’s watching. She’s just there for them.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The laughter. The ease. The way she walked into my family and didn’t try to change herself to fit, she just did.

And somehow, that made everything fit around you instead.

My mom nudges me. “Arch, you've done nothing today but stare at her.”

I can’t even speak because the only thing running through my head is ‘That’s her. That’s the girl I’m gonna marry.’

Y/N POV:

I’m out of breath by the time the egg hunt slows down.

I end up sitting in the grass with a few of the kids, helping them count their eggs and trade candy like it’s some kind of high-stakes negotiation.

“I’ll give you two chocolates for that one,” Caroline says seriously.

“That’s a bad deal,” I whisper. “You can get at least three.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Trust me.”

Arch walks over just in time to hear that.

“You’re teaching them how to hustle now?” he asks.

I look up at him, smiling. “I’m teaching them confidence.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

There’s something different about him, though.

Softer. But also more focused.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Can I steal you for a second?”

I nod, standing up and brushing grass off my jeans.

“Don’t let anyone scam you,” you tell Caroline before walking away.

“I won’t!” she calls.

I follow Arch a little further from the group, my heart picking up slightly.

“What’s up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me. And for a second, I feel that nervousness creep back in.

“Arch?” you say softly.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“I-uh…” He laughs a little, like he doesn’t even know where to start. “You’re really good with them.”

I blink. “The kids?”

“Yeah. But also, my family. All of it.”

I smile gently. “I was nervous, you know.”

“You were?” he says, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. I just didn’t want to mess anything up.”

He shakes his head immediately. “You didn’t. You-” He stops, exhaling again.

And then he just says it.

“You feel like home.”

My breath catches.

The world around you fades a little, the noise, the laughter, everything.

“You…what?” I ask softly.

He steps a little closer, his voice quieter now.

“Watching you today, it just…clicked. Like…this is it for me.” He pauses, searching your face. “You’re it for me.”

My chest tightens, emotions rushing in all at once.

“Arch…”

“I know it sounds fast,” he says quickly. “I’m not-I'm not trying to rush anything. I just…needed you to know.”

I don’t even realize I’m smiling until he relaxes slightly.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Okay?” he repeats.

“Okay,” you nod. “Because…for what it’s worth” I take a breath, steadying myself, “it kind of feels like that for me too.”

His shoulders drop, relief and something brighter flooding his expression. And then he laughs, quiet and disbelieving.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah.”

And just like that, everything feels settled.

Arch POV:

Later that afternoon, I found my mom in the kitchen, cleaning up. I lean against the counter.

“She’s special,”  my mom says before he even speaks.

I let out a short laugh. “That obvious?”

“Arch,” she says, giving me a look. “I raised you.”

I nod slowly.

“Yeah,” I said. “She is.”

My mom watches me for a second.

And then soft, but sure-

“Well,” she says, turning back to the sink, “we’ll find her a nice ring.”

I freeze immediately.

“Mom-” I started, half-laughing.

The test is still on the bathroom counter. I haven’t moved it, I haven’t touched it.

Like if I leave it there long enough, it’ll disappear on its own, like it’ll fix itself, like it’ll turn into something else.

One line.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

Instead. Two.

Bright. Unmistakable. Permanent.

My hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles white as I stare at it like it might start blinking or apologizing or explaining itself.

“Okay,” I whisper, but my voice is barely there. “Okay… okay…”

It doesn’t feel okay. It feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room. Like everything is suddenly too loud and too quiet at the same time.

I drag a shaky hand over my face, pacing the small hotel bathroom. The tile is cold under my bare feet, grounding me just enough to keep from spiraling completely.

“This is just bad timing,” I murmur to myself. “That’s all this is. Just… really, really bad timing.”

Because tomorrow- no.

Today.

Today is the national championship.

The biggest game of his life. The biggest moment.

I press my lips together hard, my eyes flicking back to the test.

“I’m pregnant,” I say out loud.

The words land heavy. Real. Too real.

A laugh escapes me, but it cracks halfway through. “Cool. Great. Awesome. Love that for me.”

My reflection stares back at me, wide-eyed and pale.

“You cannot tell him before the game,” I say firmly, pointing at myself like I need the warning. “You cannot do that to him.”

Because he’ll choose me. That’s the problem.

He’ll choose this, this moment, this news, me, over everything he’s worked for, even if he says he won’t.

And I can’t let that happen. So I nod to myself, swallowing hard.

“After,” I decide quietly. “You tell him after.”

I don’t sleep. Not really.

Every time I close my eyes, my brain starts running again, what ifs, worst-case scenarios, flashes of a future I’m not ready to picture yet.

So by the time morning comes, I’m running on nothing but nerves and adrenaline.

Which, honestly, matches the energy of the entire stadium.

It’s loud. So loud. The kind of loud that vibrates through your chest, rattles your bones, makes everything feel bigger than it already is.

I should be focused on the game, on him, on the moment.

Instead, my hand keeps drifting to my stomach like there’s already something there to feel.

It’s stupid. It’s early. There’s nothing but still, my fingers press lightly against the fabric of my hoodie.

We’re having a baby.

The thought hits differently every time.

Sometimes it feels terrifying. Sometimes it feels unreal.

And sometimes it feels like something warm, something fragile, something I don’t fully understand yet.

“Hey,” someone says beside me.

I blink, snapping out of it.

One of the other girlfriends drops into the seat, grinning. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I force a laugh. “That obvious?”

“Championship nerves,” she says knowingly. “Same.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Nerves.”

If only that was it. My eyes drift back to the field.

He’s there, moving through warmups, completely locked in, but somehow still him. Confident, focused, calm in a way I don’t understand.

And then like always, he looks up straight at me. My breath catches.

It’s like everything else fades for a second. The noise, the crowd, the pressure, none of it matters in that moment.

Just him. Just us. He gives me that small, familiar smile. The one that’s not for anyone else. I lift my hand automatically.

But something twists in my chest because now there’s something between us that he doesn’t know about.

Something big. Something life-changing.

And I hate it.

By halftime, I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my own skin.

We’re down.

Not by much, but enough to make everything sharper. Tenser.

The crowd is restless. My thoughts are worse.

Tell him.

Don’t tell him.

Tell him.

Don’t-

I stand up abruptly.

“I’ll be back,” I mumble to no one in particular, already moving.

I don’t even fully decide to go to the tunnel. My body just takes me there. Like it knows I can’t hold this in any longer.

The tunnel is chaos.

Players rushing past, coaches shouting, equipment clattering, it’s loud and fast and overwhelming.

But somehow, the second he sees me everything slows down.

“Hey, hey!” he calls, weaving through people until he’s right in front of me.

His hands land on my arms immediately. Warm. Solid.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brows pulling together. “You look-”

“I’m fine,” I say too fast.

His expression doesn’t change.

“You’re not fine.”

“I am,” I insist, but my voice betrays me.

He studies me for a second, really looking. And then his whole demeanor shifts, less player, more him. More mine.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly.

I shake my head quickly. “You need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nando-”

“No,” he says, softer this time, but just as firm. “What happened?”

My chest tightens. This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this, because he’s like this, because he cares like this, because he won’t just walk away.

“I took a test,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

He stills.

“A test?” he repeats carefully.

I nod, my hands trembling now.

“What kind of test?” he asks.

I swallow hard.

“A pregnancy test.”

Silence. Not the loud kind.

The heavy kind. The kind that presses in around you.

“And?” he asks.

I let out a breath that feels like it scrapes on the way out.

“It was positive.”

Everything stops, not the stadium, not the world.

Just him.

His eyes flick over my face like he’s trying to piece it together, like he’s waiting for me to laugh or say just kidding or something.

But I don’t because it’s real.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

His hands drop slightly from my arms, not letting go, just loosening, like he forgot how tight he was holding on.

“Pregnant,” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

A beat passes. Then another.

I brace myself.

But instead of panic he exhales slowly.

Then runs a hand through his hair, letting out a short, almost disbelieving breath.

“Okay,” he says.

I blink. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats, nodding like he’s trying to anchor himself.

“That’s-” I shake my head slightly. “That’s all you have to say?”

His eyes snap back to mine, softer now.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then he steps closer again, like distance isn’t an option.

“Say something else,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Please.”

His expression shifts immediately.

“Hey,” he murmurs, cupping my face gently. “Hey look at me.”

I do. And there’s a lot in his eyes, shock, yeah, and confusion, but underneath it?

Something steady. Something grounding.

“We’re gonna figure it out,” he says.

My breath catches. “We are?”

“Yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “We are.”

A shout echoes behind him, his name. He glances back for half a second, then back at me.

“I have to go,” he says.

“I know.”

Neither of us moves. His thumb brushes under my eye, catching a tear I didn’t realize fell.

“You didn’t want to tell me before the game,” he says suddenly.

It’s not a question.

I shake my head. “I didn’t want to mess this up for you.”

His brows pull together instantly.

“Mess this up?” he repeats.

I shrug helplessly. “This is your moment.”

His jaw tightens slightly, not in anger, but something close.

“You’re my moment,” he says quietly.

That hits harder than anything.

“Fernando-”

“I mean it,” he adds, softer now. “This doesn’t take anything away from that. If anything-”

He stops himself, shaking his head slightly like he doesn’t have time to finish the thought.

“Hey,” he says instead, leaning his forehead against mine for just a second. “I’m still going out there to win.”

A small laugh escapes me through tears. “Good.”

“And then I’m coming straight back to you.”

My heart stutters.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He presses a quick kiss to my forehead.

“Okay,” he echoes.

Then he’s gone.

The second half feels unreal. Every second stretches, every play feels heavier, because now it’s not just about the game.

It’s about everything.

And when the final seconds tick down, when he throws that last pass, when the crowd erupts, I’m already crying before I realize what’s happening.

They won.

He won.

The field is chaos. Confetti everywhere, people screaming, celebrating, cameras flashing, and somehow, through all of it, he finds me. Like he always does.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t slow down. He just pulls me into him, lifting me off the ground in one smooth motion.

“We did it!” he laughs into my hair.

“You did it!” I shoot back, gripping onto him like I might float away otherwise.

He sets me down, but his hands stay on me, like he needs to make sure I’m still there.

Then, quieter

“We did it,” he repeats.

And I know exactly what he means.

I swallow, looking up at him. “We really did.”

He grins, then leans in slightly.

“Still pregnant?” he murmurs under his breath.

I laugh through tears. “Yeah. Still pregnant.”

“Good,” he says instantly.

I blink. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Feels like we won twice.”

My chest tightens so hard it almost hurts.

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m serious.”

His hand drifts down for a second, hesitating just above my stomach, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, then he rests it there carefully. And something about that completely undoes me.

“Hi,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself.

I laugh, wiping at my eyes. “It’s like… the size of nothing right now.”

“Still,” he says, not moving his hand.

Then he looks back up at me.

“We’re really doing this, huh?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. We are.”

A beat passes. Then he smiles again, different this time. Not just happy.

Certain.

“Okay,” he says.

Y/N

There’s something uniquely exhausting about almost being someone’s.

Not in a situationship way, no, it’s worse than that. Because Arch isn’t distant. He’s there all the time. Texting me first. Walking me to class. Sitting too close, like there isn’t enough air between us unless his knee is pressed against mine.

He just hasn’t said it.

No label. No “you’re mine.” No “I’m yours.”

But everything else?

Yeah. That’s there.

Which is why I don’t feel guilty when I don’t move away as fast as I probably should when Tyler leans against the wall outside of class, smiling like he’s been waiting for me.

“Hey,” Tyler says, casual, easy. “You going to the game Friday?”

I shrug, pretending to think about it. “Maybe. Depends who’s asking.”

He grins. “I am.”

And I laugh, soft, teasing, because it’s harmless. Because I can.

Because I’m not taken. Right?

I feel it before I see him. That shift in the air. The tension. I glance up and there he is.

Arch.

Leaning against the wall a few doors down, arms crossed, jaw tight. He’s not interrupting. Not saying anything. Just watching and if looks could kill, Tyler would be dead on the floor right now.

Arch

I knew I shouldn’t have come into the communications building at this time. I knew it the second I saw her and him.

He’s too close, too comfortable, like he has any right to stand there, leaning in, making her laugh.

God, that laugh.

That’s mine. Or it should be.

My jaw tightens before I can stop it. I cross my arms, trying to look casual, like I don’t care. 

I care. I really, really care.

I watch the way she tilts her head when she’s listening to him, the way her fingers tap against the wall behind her. I know those habits. I know her.

And he doesn’t. But he’s trying to and she’s letting him. Something ugly twists in my chest.

Because technically?

I don’t have a single reason to walk over there and pull her away. 

No title. No claim.

Just a hundred little almosts that don’t mean anything on paper but they mean everything to me.

Y/N

Tyler’s still talking, something about the game, about meeting up after, but I’m not really listening anymore because Arch hasn’t moved and I can feel his eyes on me. Burning.

“Y/N?”

I blink, snapping back. “Sorry, what?”

Tyler chuckles. “I was asking if you wanted to go together.”

Together.

I hesitate.

And I don’t know why but I glance at Arch again. Big mistake because the second our eyes meet, something shifts.

His expression hardens, like he’s daring me to say yes. Like he’s already pissed and I haven’t even answered yet. 

And suddenly, I want to push. Just a little.

“Yeah,” I say, turning back to Tyler with a small smile. “That could be fun.”

Arch

She says yes. She actually says yes. And I swear something in my chest snaps.

It’s quiet, no one else would notice, but it’s there. Sharp. Immediate. I push off the wall before I even realize I’m moving.

I don’t think. I don’t plan. I just walk straight toward them.

Tyler notices first. Of course he does. His posture shifts, like he suddenly realizes he’s standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Good.

“Arch,” he says, like we’re friends.

We’re not. I don’t even look at him. My eyes are on her.

“Can I talk to you?” I say.

It’s not a question.

Y/N

Oh. Oh, he’s mad. Not annoyed. Not slightly irritated. Mad.

And the worst part?

A tiny, traitorous part of me likes it.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, pushing off the wall.

Tyler looks between us, clearly confused. “I’ll, uh catch you later?”

I nod, not even really registering him leaving because Arch’s hand wraps around my wrist the second we’re alone enough.

Not rough but firm. Possessive. He pulls me a few steps down the hallway, away from everyone else before letting go.

“What was that?” he asks.

His voice is low. Controlled. Dangerously controlled.

I blink at him. “What was what?”

His jaw tightens. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

I cross my arms, mirroring him from earlier. “I was having a conversation.”

“With him.”

“Yes. With him.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You said yes.”

“To going to a game,” I say. “Not exactly a marriage proposal, Arch.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” I snap.

And there it is. The real question.

Arch

She’s looking at me like I’m the problem. Like I don’t have a reason to be losing my mind right now.

“You know what the point is,” I say.

“No, I don’t,” she shoots back. “Because last time I checked, I’m single.”

That hits harder than anything else because she’s right. God, she’s right, but I hate hearing it.

“I see you every day,” I say, my voice tightening despite myself. “We talk all the time. I-”

I stop because I don’t know how to finish that sentence without saying too much.

Without saying everything. Her expression softens, but only slightly. “You what, Arch?”

I shake my head, frustrated. “You can’t just go out with other guys like that.”

She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Because you’re mine. The words sit right there, on the edge of my tongue, but I don’t say them because I haven’t earned the right to. So what comes out instead is messier.

“Because I don’t like it.”

Y/N

I stare at him. Waiting. Because that’s not enough.

“You don’t like it,” I repeat.

“Yeah.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

His frustration spikes again. I can see it in the way his shoulders tense.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe don’t say yes to other guys?”

I let out a sharp breath. “You don’t get to ask that of me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you haven’t asked me for anything else!”

That lands. Silence stretches between us. His expression shifts just slightly. Like something’s clicking into place or falling apart.

“I’m here,” he says, quieter now. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” I say, just as quiet.

And I mean it.

Arch

That one word, no. It hits worse than anything she’s said so far because I thought it was enough. I thought showing up, being there, choosing her over and over again without saying it out loud, I thought she’d understand. But she doesn’t. Or maybe she does and she just wants more.

“You’re really going to go out with him?” I ask.

She hesitates. Just for a second.

“Maybe,” she says.

That jealousy flares up again, hotter this time. Stronger. I step closer without thinking.

“Don’t,” I say.

Her breath catches slightly, but she doesn’t back away.

“Still not your call,” she murmurs.

I know. I know it’s not but god, I want it to be. My hand comes up, almost brushing hers before I stop myself because if I touch her, I’m done for.

“Then tell me what is my call,” I say, voice low.

Her eyes meet mine. And this time, there’s no teasing in them. No deflection.

“Decide,” she says.

One word, but it says everything.

Y/N

He’s so close now. Close enough that I can see the conflict all over his face, the hesitation, the fear, the want.

“Decide,” I repeat, softer this time.

Because I can’t keep doing this halfway thing. Not with him. Not when it feels like this. His jaw clenches again, but differently now. Not angry, determined.

And for a second, I think maybe. Maybe he’s finally going to say it.

Arch

I’m standing right on the edge of it, of saying it, of fixing this, of making her mine in a way that actually means something. All I have to do is say the words.

But they feel bigger than anything I’ve ever said before. Heavier. Riskier.

Because if I say them, there’s no going back. And if I don’t I already know what happens. She walks away. Maybe not today.

But eventually. I exhale slowly.

“Don’t go with him,” I say.

Her expression falls just slightly and I know immediately that wasn’t enough.

Y/N

I search his face. Waiting for more. For anything else. But it doesn’t come. And that tells me everything I need to know. I nod slowly, stepping back.

“Okay,” I say.

And this time, my voice doesn’t shake.

“Then I guess I’ll see you around, Arch.”

Arch

The second she turns to leave regret hits me like a punch to the chest. Because I know I just messed up. Badly.

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that he’s not next to me. Which is weird because Arch always wakes up after me.

I squint against the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, rolling onto his side of the bed. It’s still warm, but empty, the sheets slightly wrinkled like he slipped out quietly.

Suspicious. 

I push myself up, pulling his oversized t-shirt down my thighs as I step into the hallway.

“Arch?” I call, my voice still thick with sleep.

There’s a pause.

Then, from the kitchen-

“Stay right there!”

I blink.

“…why?”

“Just don’t move,” he says, and I can practically hear the grin in his voice.

Now I’m smiling. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms, trying to look patient even though curiosity is eating me alive.

There’s a clatter. A muttered “oh shit-” followed by what sounds like a drawer slamming shut.

I bite back a laugh. A minute later, he appears around the corner and my heart does that thing. That stupid, ridiculous, traitorous thing.

Because he’s standing there in gray sweats, hair messy like he ran his hands through it a hundred times, holding a slightly uneven plate of pancakes with a candle stuck in the middle.

“Happy birthday to me,” he says, deadpan.

I laugh, covering my mouth. “Oh my God, you made your own birthday breakfast?”

“Correction,” he says, stepping closer. “I made our breakfast. But yes, I did it on my birthday, because my girlfriend is apparently incapable of waking up before noon.”

I gasp. “It is not noon.”

He raises an eyebrow. I glance at the clock. 11:47.

“Okay, first of all,” I start, grabbing the plate from him, “I had a plan.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, leaning against the counter, watching me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room. “What was the plan?”

I take a bite of pancake, buying time.

“to wake up earlier than you.”

He laughs and it’s warm and easy and so him that I feel it all the way down to my chest.

“Great plan, babe. Really executed it well.”

I roll my eyes, stepping closer to him. “You’re 22 now. Be nice to your girlfriend. It’s like, a maturity thing.”

He tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. Nah.”

I shove him lightly, but he catches my wrist, tugging me into him and just like that, everything softens. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel his heartbeat through his chest.

“Hey,” I murmur, looking up at him.

“Hey,” he echoes, quieter now.

For a second, neither of us says anything.

And then I smile.

“Happy birthday.”

Something shifts in his expression just a little. Like it hits him deeper than he expected.

“Thank you,” he says, softer.

I reach up, brushing my fingers through his hair. “You feel older?”

“Yeah,” he says immediately. “My back hurts. I think I need to retire.”

I snort. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It’s a problem.”

I shake my head, but I’m still smiling as I lean in and press a kiss to his lips. It’s slow and soft. The kind of kiss that doesn’t rush anything.

When I pull back, his hands tighten slightly at my waist, like he’s not ready to let go yet.

“Okay,” I say, stepping out of his hold before I get distracted. “Now that you’ve successfully made your own birthday breakfast-”

“You’re welcome by the way.”

“I have a surprise.”

His eyes light up immediately. “Oh?”

“Go get dressed.”

“How dressed?”

I narrow my eyes. “Arch.”

He grins. “Just asking for clarification.”

“Normal human amount of dressed,” I say, pointing toward the bedroom. “And don’t take forever.”

He salutes me. “Yes ma’am.”

An hour later, we’re in the car.

He’s still trying to guess.

“Are we leaving the state?”

“No.”

“Are we skydiving?”

“No.”

“Is this legal?”

“…mostly.”

He turns to look at me. “Mostly?”

I grin, keeping my eyes on the road. “Relax. It’s your birthday. I wouldn’t get you arrested.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s close enough.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath, but he reaches over anyway, lacing his fingers with mine across the center console.

And something about that, something so simple, makes my chest feel full because this is it. Not the big moments. Not the parties or the attention or the pressure that follows him everywhere.

Just us.

When we pull up, he frowns slightly.

“A lake?”

“Get out,” I say, already unbuckling my seatbelt.

He follows me, still looking confused as I grab a bag from the backseat.

“Okay, explain.”

“Not yet,” I say, dragging him toward the dock.

And then he sees it. The small boat. The one I rented. Decorated, badly, with a couple balloons and a crooked “22” banner.

He stops.

“…you did this?” he asks.

I suddenly feel shy. “Yeah. I just thought, since things are always so crazy, and you never really get like quiet time”

My voice trails off.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. And then he pulls me into him so fast I barely have time to react.

“Are you kidding me?” he murmurs into my hair. “This is perfect.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, smiling against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

We spend the afternoon on the water. No phones. No distractions. Just music playing softly from my speaker, the sun warm against our skin, his arm draped lazily around my shoulders as we sit side by side.

At one point, he leans his head against mine.

“Best birthday I’ve had in a while,” he says.

I glance up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing me a little closer. “No expectations. No pressure. Just you.”

My chest tightens. I tilt my head, looking at him properly now.

“You deserve more days like this,” I say quietly.

He watches me for a second and then his expression softens in a way that makes everything feel still.

“I’ve got them,” he says.

“How?”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

“As long as you’re there.”

I lean in first this time, kissing him slow, steady, like I’m trying to memorize it. The warmth, the quiet, the way his hand comes up to hold my face like I’m something fragile and important at the same time.

When we pull apart, we don’t move far. We never really do.

“Happy birthday,” I whisper again.

He smiles and this time, it’s softer.

Y/N POV

The first time Arch asked me to come to one of his games, I said no. The second time, I said maybe. The third time, he showed up at my apartment with coffee and a schedule.

"You have no excuses left," he informed me.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You're annoying."

"So I've been told."

Violet looked up from her coloring book.

"I wanna go."

Traitor. Absolute traitor.

Arch grinned.

"See? V gets it."

The problem wasn't the game. The problem was everything that came with it. The people. The cameras. The attention. The fact that everyone seemed to know who Arch was.

Meanwhile, I was just a college student trying to survive classes, work, and raising a four-year-old.

The thought of sitting with his family made my stomach hurt.

What if I said something stupid? What if I didn't fit in? What if they realized I didn't belong there?

"Mommy."

I blinked. Violet was staring at me from the couch.

"You're doing the thing again."

"What thing?"

"The thinking thing."

I sighed. Apparently even my four-year-old could tell.

Game day arrived much faster than I wanted it to. The stadium was already packed when we arrived. The sound hit me first, music, announcements, thousands of people talking all at once.

I immediately wanted to turn around.

"Wow."

Violet's eyes were huge.

"Look at it!"

Meanwhile I was trying not to throw up. 

Arch had already gone ahead with the team, so it was just me and Violet making our way inside. Every step made me more nervous. By the time we reached the suite where his family was sitting, my palms were sweating.

I stood outside the door for a second.

Maybe I could fake a sudden illness.

Maybe-

The door opened and Ellen immediately smiled.

"Well there you are."

Before I could even respond, Violet launched herself forward.

"Hi!"

Ellen laughed.

"Hi, sweetheart."

Just like that, Violet walked right inside like she owned the place. 

I wished I had half her confidence.

The suite was full. People talking, laughing, watching warmups on the field below. My chest tightened immediately.

Too many people, too much noise, too much everything.

I suddenly felt completely out of place. Everyone looked so comfortable. So familiar.

Meanwhile I was standing awkwardly near the doorway trying to figure out where to put my hands.

"Y/N."

I looked up.

May had noticed. Of course she had.

"You okay?"

I forced a smile.

"Yeah."

She gave me a look.

The kind that said she absolutely did not believe me.

Then she gently guided me toward an empty chair.

"Sit."

"I'm okay-"

"Sit."

I sat. 

"There we go."

My face warmed.

"I don't really know what I'm doing here."

The confession slipped out before I could stop it. She looked surprised.

"At the game?"

I nodded.

"With all of you."

For a moment she just stared at me. Then she smiled softly.

"Oh honey."

Instantly I wanted to disappear.

"You think we're judging you?"

I didn't answer. Which was apparently answered enough. She reached over and squeezed my hand.

"You're here because Arch wants you here."

My throat tightened.

"And because Violet wants to be here."

As if on cue-

"LOOK!"

We both turned. Violet was standing against the glass, practically vibrating.

"THAT'S ARCHIE!"

The entire suite laughed. Because yes. The giant quarterback warming up on the field below was indeed Arch.

"That's him!" Violet repeated.

As if we might miss him.

The game hadn't even started and she was already obsessed. Every time Arch appeared on the giant screen, she gasped. Every. Single. Time.

"Mommy!"

"I see him."

"Mommy!"

"I still see him."

"Mommy!"

"Shockingly, yes, that's still Arch."

The people around us were trying not to laugh. I wasn't succeeding. 

Then something happened.

Arch looked up.

All the way toward the suite.

And somehow, he found us.

Or rather he found Violet.

His face immediately lit up. Violet squealed. Actually squealed.

"HE SAW ME!"

She started jumping up and down.

"He saw me!"

The people around us laughed.

"He definitely saw you," someone agreed.

Because honestly?

It would've been impossible not to.

The game finally started. And Violet became the most invested football fan in history. Not because she understood football. She absolutely did not.

But because Arch was playing. That was enough.

Whenever he completed a pass?

She cheered.

Whenever he ran?

She cheered.

Whenever literally anything happened?

She cheered. At one point she turned to me.

"Is he winning?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Then she went back to watching.

As the game went on, something unexpected happened.

I relaxed.

Slowly. Little by little. The knot in my chest loosened.

The people around me weren't judging me. They weren't analyzing every little thing I did.

They were just kind.

They shared snacks with Violet. Explained plays she didn't understand. Included me in conversations. Made room for us without making it feel forced. 

For the first time all day, I stopped feeling like an outsider.

Late in the fourth quarter, Violet climbed into my lap. The excitement had finally worn her out. 

She rested her head against my shoulder.

Still watching the field.

Still watching Arch.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah?"

Her voice was sleepy.

"I like his games."

I smiled.

"Me too."

She watched him for another minute.

"I think he likes us."

My heart stopped. Just for a second.

Because she sounded so certain, so safe, so loved.

I kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah, baby."

Across the field, Arch celebrated another big play. The crowd erupted. The suite exploded with cheers.

And for the first time since we'd arrived, I didn't feel overwhelmed. I felt like I belonged. After the game, we waited near the family area.

The second Arch appeared, still sweaty and exhausted, Violet took off running.

"ARCH!"

His entire face broke into a grin. He scooped her up effortlessly.

"Hey, bug."

"We won!"

"We did."

"You were amazing!"

He laughed.

"Thanks."

Then his eyes found mine over her shoulder. Softening instantly. The same way they always did.

"You okay?" he asked.

It was a simple question. But somehow he knew exactly what he was asking. Not about the game. Not about the crowd. About all of it. I smiled. A real one.

"Yeah."

His expression relaxed immediately.

"Yeah?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

And for the first time, I meant it.

I knew I was getting sick the moment I woke up.

Everything felt heavy. My head throbbed, my throat burned, and even just blinking felt like too much effort. I groaned softly, rolling over and burying my face deeper into the pillow, hoping maybe if I ignored it, it would go away.

It didn’t.

“Baby?”

Arch’s voice was still thick with sleep, low and warm behind me. I felt the mattress dip as he shifted closer, his hand sliding gently over my arm.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I shook my head against the pillow. “No. I feel awful.”

That was all it took. Within seconds, he was fully awake.

I felt his palm press to my forehead, then linger there a second longer than usual. “You’re burning up,” he said, concern instantly threading through his voice.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, even though I very clearly wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he said softly, not believing me for a second. “You sound real convincing.”

I let out a weak huff, too tired to argue.

“Stay here,” he added, already pulling the covers up around me before slipping out of bed.

I didn’t even try to protest.

The next time I opened my eyes, the room smelled faintly like tea. Arch was back, sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray in his hands, tea, medicine, a glass of water, and something that looked like toast.

“You made me breakfast?” I croaked.

He gave me a small smile. “I made you something you might actually be able to eat.”

I pushed myself up slightly, immediately regretting it when my head spun.

“Hey, hey, slow down.” He set the tray aside quickly and slid an arm behind my back, helping me sit up against the pillows. “I got you.”

The way he said it, so simple, so certain, made my chest ache in a completely different way.

“I don’t deserve you,” I mumbled.

He snorted softly. “You definitely do. Now take this.” He handed me the medicine first, watching me carefully until I swallowed it.

I made a face. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, handing me the tea, “it’ll help.”

I took a small sip, letting the warmth settle in my chest. It actually helped a little.

Arch reached up and brushed a piece of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek. “You scared me this morning,” he admitted quietly.

“It’s just a cold,” I said.

“Still,” he shrugged. “Hate seeing you like this.”

By midday, I had migrated to the couch, wrapped in about three blankets like a burrito.

Arch had declared it a “rest day,” which apparently meant he was in charge of everything. Which also meant he wasn’t letting me do anything.

“I can get it,” I said weakly as he walked past with a bowl.

“Nope,” he replied instantly.

“It’s literally just water.”

“And you’re literally sick,” he shot back, setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “Sit. Don’t move.”

I crossed my arms, pouting. “You’re bossy.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

I tried to roll my eyes, but it came out half-hearted. A few minutes later, he sat down beside me, gently lifting my legs so he could tuck himself underneath them. His hand rested on my knee, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles.

“What are we watching?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” I mumbled, leaning into his side.

“Okay, dangerous answer.”

He grabbed the remote and scrolled for a second before settling on something light and easy. I barely paid attention to the screen though. My focus was on the steady rise and fall of his chest next to me, the warmth of him, the comfort. After a while, I felt his lips press softly to the top of my head.

“You need anything?” he whispered.

I shook my head, snuggling closer. “Just you.”

His arm tightened around me immediately. “Good. I can do that.”

At some point, I must’ve fallen asleep. When I woke up again, it was darker, the TV still playing quietly in the background. I shifted slightly, and Arch noticed right away.

“Hey,” he murmured, looking down at me. “How you feeling?”

“Better,” I said honestly. “Still kinda gross though.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, that part takes time.”

I tilted my head up to look at him. “You’ve been taking care of me all day.”

“Obviously,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You didn’t have to cancel everything.”

He frowned a little at that. “Yeah, I did.”

I blinked. “No, you didn’t-”

“Yes,” he interrupted gently, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “You’re my priority. Always.”

That shut me up real quick. My heart did that stupid fluttery thing I could never control.

“C’mere,” he said softly.

He pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead, lingering, careful, like I was something fragile.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And as I curled into him, wrapped up in warmth and soft blankets and him, I realized something.

Being sick still sucked but having Arch take care of me?

Arch

I last exactly six hours. That’s how long I make it before I completely lose my mind.

By midnight, I’ve replayed that hallway conversation so many times I could recite it word for word. Her face when I didn’t say enough. The disappointment in her eyes before she walked away.

And the worst part?

She was right.

I wanted all the benefits of being hers without actually risking anything myself.

I’m staring at my phone in bed, thumb hovering over her contact.

Text her.

Don’t text her.

Text her.

Don’t-

Then a notification lights up my screen.

Kendall posted a story.

I almost ignore it.

Then I see her.

Y/N.

Standing in someone’s kitchen, laughing at something off camera. Wearing that tiny tank top I love. Hair down. Barely any makeup.

And Tyler is right behind her. Too close.

His hand is on her waist.

Something hot and vicious tears through my chest.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Before I can think better of it, I’m already grabbing my keys.

Y/N

I shouldn’t be here. That’s the truth.

This isn’t even really a date. Tyler invited a bunch of people over before the game tomorrow and I said yes mostly out of spite. Mostly because Arch looked at me like I’d committed a crime for speaking to another man.

And because some pathetic part of me wanted to see if he’d finally do something about it.

Which is embarrassing. 

I’m leaning against the kitchen counter while Tyler talks to me about something I’m barely listening to when my phone buzzes.

Arch: where are you

No hello.

No punctuation.

Just immediate aggression.

My stomach flips anyway.

I stare at it for a second before typing back.

Me: busy

The typing bubble appears instantly.

Arch: with him?

I shouldn’t smile. I do anyway.

Me: maybe

Three dots appear.

Disappear.

Appear again.

Then:

Arch: send me the address

My breath catches.

Oh.

He’s mad mad.

Arch

She sends the address. Which means one of two things. Either she wants me to come or she wants to torture me.

Probably both.

I drive way too fast the entire way there, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. Every possible scenario keeps replaying in my head.

Him touching her. Her laughing at him. Him thinking he has a chance.

By the time I pull up outside the house, I’m already pissed off enough to start a fight.

The second I walk in, my eyes find her automatically.

Like they always do.

And there she is. Across the room. Looking right at me.

Her expression shifts immediately, surprise first, then something softer. Something almost nervous.

Good. 

Because she should be nervous.

Tyler’s standing beside her.

Too close again.

I barely register the people around us staring as I walk straight toward them. Toward her. Tyler notices the look on my face and visibly straightens.

“Hey, man-”

“Move.”

I don’t even raise my voice. I don’t have to. The room goes weirdly quiet.

Tyler blinks. “What?”

“I said move.”

“Arch,” Y/N says quietly, warningly.

But I’m past caring. Because Tyler’s hand brushes her lower back again and something in me snaps completely. I step between them.

Fully between them.

Blocking him from her. Mine.

The thought hits hard and immediate.

Mine.

Y/N

Oh my God.

He actually came and he looks furious. Not annoyed. Not jealous in a cute way. Possessive. Like he walked in here already ready to drag me out by the hand. The tension pouring off him is insane.

“Arch,” I say again, quieter this time.

His eyes flick to me instantly. And every ounce of anger on his face changes into something worse. 

Want.

Relief.

Obsession.

“You really came here with him?” he asks.

I cross my arms, trying to ignore the fact that my pulse is going insane. “I came to a party.”

“He brought you.”

“So?”

“So?” He laughs once, sharp and disbelieving. “You’re kidding, right?”

Tyler steps in then, clearly uncomfortable. “Dude, I think you should chill-”

Arch turns slowly.

Terrifyingly slowly.

“No,” he says flatly. “I think you should stop talking to her.”

The entire room goes silent. My eyes widen slightly. Because wow.

Tyler scoffs. “She can decide who she talks to.”

“I know,” Arch says immediately. “And I’m deciding I don’t like you talking to her.”

“Arch,” I hiss.

But secretly?

My stomach flips violently. Because this is insane behavior. Absolutely insane. And I love it.

Arch

I know I sound possessive.

I know I sound jealous.

I know I sound completely unhinged.

I genuinely do not care anymore.

Because she’s standing there looking at me in that tiny top, lips parted slightly, cheeks flushed, and all I can think about is the fact that some other guy thought he could take her out.

Like she wasn’t already mine.

Tyler looks at her. “Y/N?”

Like he expects her to say something and suddenly I can’t take it anymore.

“Tell him,” I say.

Her brows pull together slightly. “Tell him what?”

“That you’re done entertaining this.”

The room feels too hot. Too small.

She stares at me for a long second before saying carefully, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I know.”

“Then stop acting like my boyfriend when you aren’t.”

That one lands directly in my chest. Hard.

And something finally breaks.

“Fine,” I snap.

Then I grab her hand. And pull her with me.

Y/N

The entire room audibly reacts when he grabs my hand. But Arch doesn’t care. At all. He drags me through the house, out the back door, onto the quiet patio. The second the door slams shut behind us, I yank my hand back.

“What is wrong with you?” I whisper-yell.

He turns toward me so fast I almost step back.

“What’s wrong with me?” he repeats incredulously. “You’re here with another guy!”

“I’m not with him!”

“You were going to be!”

“No,” I snap. “I was waiting for you to finally get your shit together!”

Silence. Heavy silence. His chest is rising hard now, eyes locked on mine.

“What?” he asks quietly.

And suddenly all my frustration spills out at once.

“I’m tired of this!” I say. “You act like I’m yours until it’s time to actually say it. You get jealous, you touch me like I belong to you, you look at me like-like-”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in love with me!”

The words hang between us. His expression changes instantly. Not shock. Not denial.

“Because I am.”

My breath stops.

Arch

There. It’s out. Finally. And the second I say it, there’s no taking it back.

“I’m in love with you,” I say again, stepping closer. “Obviously I’m fucking in love with you.”

She just stares at me. Completely still. So I keep going because apparently once I start talking, I can’t stop.

“You think I can stand there and watch some guy flirt with you?” I say. “You think I can watch him touch you and act like it doesn’t make me insane?”

Her breathing stutters slightly.

“I tried,” I admit. “I tried to play it cool because I didn’t want to screw this up, but I can’t do it anymore.”

I step even closer. Close enough that if she leaned forward even slightly, our mouths would touch.

“I don’t want anyone else taking you out,” I say quietly. “I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you.”

My hand slides to her waist instinctively.

Firm.

Possessive.

“I want you with me.”

Y/N

I can barely think because this is all I wanted and he’s looking at me like he might actually lose his mind if I say the wrong thing.

“You’re unbelievable,” I whisper.

His hand tightens slightly on my waist. “Yeah?”

“You wait until you’re having a jealousy-induced breakdown to confess you love me?”

A tiny, breathless laugh leaves him.

“I was busy spiraling.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling now. And he notices immediately. His entire expression softens.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

I try to look innocent. It fails instantly.

His jaw drops slightly. “You were.”

“Maybe a little.”

“A little?” He laughs in disbelief. “Y/N, I nearly committed a felony in that kitchen.”

I burst out laughing. And before I can say anything else, his expression changes again. Softer this time. Almost overwhelmed.

“So be my girlfriend.”

Not a question. A plea. A demand. Everything at once.

My chest aches.

“Okay,” I whisper.

The relief on his face is immediate.

Then his hand slides up to my jaw and he kisses me like he’s been holding himself back for months.

Arch's POV

The front door clicked shut behind Y/N. 

I looked down at Violet. She looked up at me.

For about five seconds, neither of us said anything.

Then she smiled.

"So..."

"So..." I echoed.

"We're in charge."

I laughed.

"I guess we are."

Beside us, Heid clapped his hands together.

"This is going to be the best day ever."

I should've known that sentence was a warning.

The first hour actually went surprisingly well. We cleaned up breakfast together.

Well...

Violet "cleaned."

Which mostly meant she carried one spoon from the table to the sink and proudly announced she was "helping."

Heid high-fived her.

I loaded the dishwasher.

Easy.

See?

This wasn't hard.

I had no idea why Y/N was always so worried.

Watching a four-year-old?

I had this.

"Can we bake cookies?"

I looked at the clock.

"...It's nine in the morning."

"So?"

I looked at Heid for support.

He shrugged.

"I mean... cookies are good any time."

I sighed.

"Fine."

Big mistake.

Huge.

Somehow, five minutes into making the cookie dough there was flour everywhere.

And I mean everywhere. The counter, the cabinets. the floor, my shirt, Heid's hair.

I stared at the kitchen.

"...How?"

"I sneezed," Violet answered matter-of-factly.

Heid immediately started laughing.

"I don't think that's all that happened."

"It definitely isn't."

Violet looked between us.

"...Oops?"

I couldn't even be mad.

She looked way too proud of herself.

"Okay," I said.

"New rule."

"No more flour fights."

"I didn't throw flour."

"You absolutely did."

"I shared flour."

Heid nearly fell over laughing.

An hour later the cookies were done. Somehow. A little burnt, slightly lopsided, but edible. 

Violet held one up proudly.

"I made this."

"You did."

"It's heart-shaped."

"It is."

"It wasn't supposed to be."

"...I noticed."

"Can we go outside now?"

"Absolutely."

Fresh air sounded amazing.

We made it exactly eighteen minutes at the park. Violet found another little girl her age almost immediately.

Within five minutes there were six kids playing together.

Within ten those same six kids had decided I was the official monster.

"GET HIM!"

I barely had time to react before tiny sneakers started running toward me from every direction.

"No, no, no-"

Too late. One kid grabbed my leg, another climbed on my back. Violet was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Heid?

Absolutely no help whatsoever.

He was filming.

"HEID!"

"What?" he laughed.

"This is hilarious."

"I'm being attacked!"

"You'll survive."

"I don't know if I will!"

By the time we left the park I was sweaty and exhausted.

And somehow carrying three stuffed animals that definitely hadn't belonged to us when we arrived.

"...Why do we have these?"

Violet shrugged.

"They're my new friends."

"...I don't think that's how borrowing works."

"Oh."

Back at the apartment, I checked the time.

Still three more hours until Y/N got home.

How was that possible?

It felt like we'd lived an entire week already.

"Movie time!" Heid announced.

"Yes," I said immediately.

"A calm activity."

That lasted about twenty minutes. Then Violet got bored.

"Can we play princesses?"

Heid gasped dramatically.

"Oh my gosh, yes."

I should've said no.

Instead I made the mistake of asking, "What does that involve?"

Forty-five minutes later, I was wearing a plastic tiara, a pink feather boa, and approximately thirty-seven sparkly hair clips.

Heid was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. I don’t get why he doesn’t have to wear any of this stuff but I do.

"You look beautiful."

"I look ridiculous."

Violet shook her head.

"No."

She climbed onto the couch beside me and adjusted the tiara.

"You look like a prince."

"...I'll take that."

Eventually, princesses became tea parties, tea parties became coloring, coloring somehow became building a blanket fort, the blanket fort turned into "camping."

And before I knew it the apartment looked like a tornado had passed through.

Blankets covered every inch of the living room, stuffed animals were everywhere, crayons littered the coffee table, half-finished puzzles sat on the floor.

I looked around slowly.

"...Y/N is going to kill me."

Heid looked around too.

"...Yeah."

"We should clean."

"Definitely."

Violet nodded.

"I'll help!"

Perfect.

Except helping with a four-year-old takes a while. Every toy she picked up reminded her of another game, every blanket became another fort, every stuffed animal needed a hug before being put away. I checked the clock again.

"We have an hour."

"We're fine," Heid said confidently.

Five minutes later he yawned.

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

Another yawn.

"I think all the princessing wore me out."

Violet climbed onto the couch between us.

"I'm sleepy."

I smiled.

"Come here."

She curled against my side without hesitation, clutching her favorite bunny.

Heid stretched out on the other end of the couch.

"We'll just rest for a minute."

"One minute," I agreed.

Then we'll clean. Definitely. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, just for a second.

The next thing I knew something soft landed on my face.

I frowned blinking slowly.

Then I realized it wasn't something.

It was someone.

Violet.

Completely asleep. Curled half across my chest with one tiny arm wrapped around my neck. My arm was still around her. 

The TV was quietly playing some animated movie we'd never finished.

The blanket fort was still standing.

The apartment, still looked like a toy store had exploded.

I reached for my phone.

4:57 p.m.

"Oh no."

Y/N would be home any minute. I carefully tried to move without waking Violet.

Nope.

The second I shifted, she mumbled sleepily and snuggled even closer.

Well.

Guess I lived here now. I smiled to myself, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She looked so peaceful. I couldn't bring myself to wake her.

Not even to clean.

So I leaned my head back against the couch again. Just for another minute.

The front door clicked open.

I heard Y/N before I saw her.

"...Hello?"

She stopped. The apartment was silent.

Except for the TV still playing quietly.

Then-

"Oh...my..."

I opened one eye.

She was standing in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, still in her work clothes, staring at the disaster in front of her.

Blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, crayons, cookie crumbs, a princess tiara sitting upside down on the coffee table.

It looked like a tiny tornado had come through. Her eyes slowly moved to the couch. 

Heid was asleep on one end, hugging a decorative pillow. Violet was sprawled across my chest, clutching her bunny with one hand and the edge of my T-shirt with the other. I looked down at myself. The tiara was somehow back on my head. I had absolutely no memory of putting it back on.

Y/N pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. I whispered, careful not to wake Violet,

"...I can explain."

She looked around the room again.

Then back at me. One eyebrow lifted.

"Can you?"

I glanced at the living room.

"...Not well."

She finally laughed, the kind that made her shoulders shake. It was my favorite sound. She walked over quietly, kneeling beside the couch.

"You all look exhausted."

"We fought a very brave battle," I whispered dramatically.

"Against what?"

I looked down at the little girl sleeping peacefully on my chest.

"A four-year-old."

Y/N smiled so softly it almost hurt to look at. She reached over and gently fixed my crooked tiara.

"I'd say she won."

I looked at Violet, then back at Y/N.

Without even thinking, I smiled.

"Yeah," I whispered.