#jackmaynard

WHY DOES THIS LOOK LIKE JOECK ?!!!!!

-Y/N is Conor’s best friend and has a crush on Jack-

-I was just bored and decided on writing this, hope you all enjoy, please send in requests-

----------

“Y/N, you’re really not gonna like this one!” Conor says trying to hold back laughter. 

You were over at Conor’s and Jack’s apartment to film a video with Conor. You were told it was a dare video full of submissions from his fan base. You were a little nervous because you know its hard to predict the internet and their ideas.

“What is it this time??” You groan at all of the possible answers you didn’t want to hear. 

Conor had always been your best friend, and you never looked at him as anything more, he would laugh with you and stand up for you when you were sad, but the two of you had an unshared agreement on having no interest. Jack, however, was a different story. Whenever Jack was around, the two of you always shared quick glances that always left a questionable tension between you. When you were alone, you would both share jokes with each other but there was almost a longing stare that followed after either of you laughed. You knew you had the hots for him, you just didn’t know what to do about it. 

Conor’s laugh brings you back to reality, “It’s too bad Jack’s out, he would’ve loved this one!” You glare at his laughter until he shares your fate, “you have to drink a fridge smoothie!”.

Terror reaches your soul as you let out a fake gagging noise; a fridge smoothie is a smoothie that is made of 3 different condiments that are from your fridge, and unfortunately the choices aren’t yours. 

Conor sees your pain and begins to laugh more as he jumps up to grab some items from the fridge. “Ive got you a smoothie that is made up of, mayo, mustard, and tabasco sauce!” Conor grins at you. 

Summary- You meet Jack and his friends in a club and things get interesting.

a/n- I wrote this ages ago and forgot to post! Hope you enjoy. Feel free to send requests not just for the buttercream squad but for the Dolan twins too!

--

"Omg y/n look its Jack and Conor Maynard with all their friends!" Your best friend, Olivia squealed as she pointed over to a group of rather attractive guys.

You were out at a club called Drama having a bit of fun with all your friends. You didn't know much about this group of boys your best friend was currently basically hyperventilating over but you'd heard their names and been shown their videos once or twice by her.

"We've got to go talk them they're so hot! Oh my god, we're in a club with celebs!"Olivia screeched.

"Sure but I call dibs on Joe!" Your other friend announced.

"If they're as famous as you guys say why are they gonna want to talk to us-" Before you fully finished your sentence Olivia grabbed your arm and dragged the group over to them.

You were trying to act uninterested but as you got closer a blond boy with piercing blue eyes caught your attention.

Your friends rushed over to talk to them and ask for photos but you lingered at the back.

While Olvia and your other friend were gushing over two boys with curly brown hair the blond was slowly made his way over to you.

You looked down at your drink pretending like you hadn't noticed him.

"Hey, are you with them girls?" He asked, looking you up and down; you felt his eyes linger on your body.

"Yeh, I am" You smiled up at him.

"Don't want a picture?" He winked.

"Not to be rude but I don't really know who you are"

"Wow I am so offended" He said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, he nodded over at the bar "Come to get a drink with me?"

You hesitated for a minute but mentally said fuck it and followed him over to the bar.

"So I am Jack and you are?" He asked.

"Y/n and you're famous for what?"

"I'm a YouTuber, and my brother's singer."

"Ohh so you're known for having a famous brother and being hot?" You teased.

"Woah well I would be offended but you called be hot so I'll let you get away with it" He chuckled.

You two continued talking for a while, he was funny and easy to talk to. The way he watched you as you spoke made your stomach fill with butterflies and every so often you'd notice him biting his lip. You could already tell he was quite a flirt.

Awhile later your friends came over with each with a boy with his hand wrapped around their waist.

"Aye mate we're all heading back now," Said the one next to Olivia how you thought might be Conor, Jacks brother.

"Have a good night" Said the one next to your other friend, you presumed he was Joe; he looked over at you and winked.

You all said your goodbyes as they got in cabs, leaving you and Jack standing outside together.

"Want to come back to mine?" Jack smirked.

"Mmh okay but don't get any ideas!" You joked making him laugh.

Jack called a cab and you stood in the chilly weather waiting for it, you shivered.

"You look cold," He said as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

"What a gentleman" You giggled "Thank you'.

Finally, it arrived and Jack held open the door for you to get inside and then got in.

You were rather excited to be going back to his apartment, he was a celeb after all and well he was .. attractive to say the least.

He sat close to you in the taxi, his knee gently brushing against yours every so often. You were pretty sure he was doing it on purpose.

When you got to the apartment Jack ordered pizza and you sat on the sofa eating it.

"Jesus have we really been out that long," He said and pointed towards the window.

There were deep orange colours beginning to appear on the horizon. You got up and rushed over to it.

Jack was watching, thinking how pretty you looked a the glow from the sunrise hit your face.

"Come, look at how beautiful it is!" You called.

"Sure the views pretty but you're prettier" He joked, causing you to laugh.

He turned you to look at him and tucked the hair that was on your face behind your ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to yours. He lingered for a moment as if checking to see if you were going to stop him, you didn't.

You thought he was going to kiss you but instead, he planted kisses up your neck and just under your ear. You pushed your body close to his, closing what little space there was left between you. As you tilted your head slightly you crashed your lips into his.

The kiss got heated as he ran hands down your ass and grinded his hips into yours. You two ended up making out more on the sofa.

And let's leave the rest to the imagination shall we, hah.

--

High school drop out, living in a crammed, deteriorating apartment in one of London’s tougher areas, broken family and too much baggage. Jamilla hates these labels, so when her Tinder hookup seems to become something more than just sex, she dreads him finding out... she just wants to feel normal, for once.

—

He was a year older, lived in London and looked cute enough from his profile picture. Honestly, Jamilla wasn’t thinking too hard when she swiped right on the match - it was a stressful week, she was sick of bickering with her younger brother, sick of her two jobs, sick of that bitch hassling her on Instagram... she deserved a night where she could enjoy herself and “Jack” seemed alright. When he proposed she meet him at a decent South London club she was sold. Alcohol, sex and some sleep sounded like the ideal night’s activities.

Under the coloured lights in the club, his eyes shined and his smile was breathtaking. Jamilla was impressed at what she’d pulled, surprised she hadn’t recognised just how... beautiful he was from the selfie on his dating account. She pushed it to the back of her mind, tugging at her second-hand party dress and giving him a friendly wave.

It wasn’t that awkward between them. She felt comfortable enough, he spoke respectfully although his tone was somewhat flirtatious, and wasn’t shoving his hands up her skirt like a sleeze. A plus, she guessed. He was slightly tipsy, she could see that, but nowhere near drunk enough to jump into a meaningless fuck. He bought her drinks which she consumed hungrily, continuing their small talk until it disintegrated into slurred sentences and hysteric laughs. The alcohol coursing through her made her buzz, and soon Jamilla had her hands on his thigh, lips beside his ear and a suggestive smirk painted on her mouth...

“Let’s get out of here?” Jack spoke huskily. “My place or yours?”

The idea of her shitty apartment almost sobered her up for a second. She pictured the bleak reality she was hiding from, as well as the disgust Jack would feel at her living state and shook her head wildly. “Yours.”

—

She woke up the next morning before he did, slipping into her clothes as the sun filtered pale light through the cracks in the blinds. Jack was buried under the warm quilt, blonde tips splayed across the pillow and a muscular arm cast beside him. She admired the tattoos she had barely noticed last night and smiled, for a moment losing herself in a daydream of comfort, belonging, love... imagine if waking up like this could be normal.

Jamilla blinked, breaking the trance. She was too busy for serious shit like that, too selfless and too stubborn to believe for a second that something that perfect could happen to her. Hurriedly she took her phone from the bedside table and picked her shoes up from the ground, all the while contemplating whether it would be inappropriate to leave a note... she’d enjoyed last night, he was charming and much better company than previous matches. What was the harm? The worst scenario was she’d never hear from him again

Enjoyed your company x If you’re up for it again, text me.

**********

Jamilla

—

Jack texted her just over a week later. Jamilla had let it float to the back of her mind, other areas of her life forcing themselves as priorities. But when he texted, it sent a cheeky grin to her lips.

They met several times across a few months, hitting the club and then heading to his becoming almost a ritual. His company became one she looked forward to at the end of a chaotic day - not just the sex and the alcohol, but everything in between that. It was comfortable, familiar. Maybe that’s not what hookups were supposed to become, but Jamilla was happy with it. There were no strings attached but a mutual connection between them. It was okay.

“My brother gets home tomorrow morning, any chance we can go to yours?” Jack inquired one night as they left the club, his hand pressed to the small of her back as her guided her through the crowd. Jamilla felt his hot breath on her ear, the risqué edge to his words. She couldn’t invite him to hers even if it wasn’t a shitheap and an embarrassment as her three siblings and uncle lived there. “I live with my family.” She hissed back, feeling the guilt pool in her stomach at always going to his and not hers. “Sorry.”

“Fuck,” Jamilla watched as he ran a hand through his growing hair, worried she’d ruined the night. After a moment of consideration he glanced at her again. “Fuck it, his flight will probably be delayed anyway.”

His lips found her neck as they tumbled into an Uber and she couldn’t help but smile, pushing any worry away.

—

Jamilla stirred at what felt later than her normal hour, smothered under Jack’s arm and comforted by his warmth. She was almost tempted to snuggle closer into him, let her eyes flutter closed and drift back into a calm slumber, but knew better. Wiping away the sleep from her eyes, she rolled over to grab her phone. Fuck, it was several hours later than she usually woke up when she stayed overnight. Thinking back, she hadn’t slept well at all that week - she was probably catching up on sleep while she was comfortable.

She didn’t notice Jack lifting his head beside her, bleary eyes squinting at her sitting beside him, so she jumped a little when he addressed her. “Hm, you’re usually gone by the time I wake up. Please don’t tell me it’s sparrow’s fart or something.”

As Jack rolled onto his back, Jamilla huffed a reply. “Nah it’s later, I must have slept in, sorry.”

“No, no problem!” The boy hurried out, voice husky from sleep. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you.” She murmured back. It might not seem like much but his offer was touching, it showed a human side to him that she sometimes missed when they were caught up in a whirlwind of lust and intoxication.

Jamilla pulled the covers off, wincing as she was greeted with frosty air. “Shit it’s cold.” She swore. To find some temporary heat she wrapped her arms around her body which was protected only by undergarments, as she searched for her jeans and top from yesterday.

“Fucking hell, it is.” Jack grumbles as he clambers out of the bed himself. She watched as he pulled a hoodie over his torso, occupied for a moment before focusing her attention elsewhere, mulling over bus timetables and her sister’s whereabouts.

“Here,” Jamilla glanced up in time to catch the jumper he threw her way. “You must be freezing.”

It smelt like him, she observed as she tugged it on, murmuring a thank you as he headed towards the door with phone in hand.

Jamilla followed him out, recounting the many times she’d done this walk alone and enjoying his presence. He shot her a smile over his shoulder as he recounted some sort of joke he’d been talking about last night. I couldn’t help but laugh, loudly, feeling at ease.

“Jack?”

That was an unfamiliar voice, she thought, slow to process. Fuck, his brother. Her brain finally caught up and she caught Jack’s eye. He grimaced.

“Motherfucker, I forgot he was here.” Jack said quietly.

Jamilla shrugged. “Oh well. I’m leaving anyway.”

With a sigh, Jack traipsed into the main living area, expression somewhat sheepish. “Hey, Conor, forgot you were back.”

Conor was perched on a bar stool Jamilla discovered as she walked through the doorway, wringing her hands together out of nervous habit. “Hi. Uh,” he flashed her a quick glance, uncertain. “Did I miss something? I’ve only been gone for two weeks.”

“No! Tinder date.” She jumped to correct him quickly in an effort to save Jack some embarrassment.

Conor had a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Ah, right. Sorry.” She chewed on her lip. What should her next move be? Should she say something? Just leave? Was that rude?...

“Well, there’s coffee if you guys want to help yourselves.” Conor piped up again before his attention was once again captured by his phone. Jack and Jamilla shared a quick glance.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, pondering her words. “I should get going.”

Jack’s blue eyes found hers and her breath caught for a moment, Jamilla didn’t know quite why. “You should stay, for breakfast.” Jack’s words surprised her a little and she can’t hide her confused expression. “If you want. You’re not in a hurry, right?”

“No,” she breathed out. “I guess I could stay. Coffee sounds good for my hangover.”

Surprisingly it was Jack’s brother who hopped up from his seat and walked to the kitchen. Jamilla sensed there was a moment of brotherly telepathy between them as Jack cocked an eyebrow and Conor smiled back as he grabbed the brewing coffee.

“Thank you.” She said brightly when he handed her the steaming mug, black as she requested. “No problem...”

“Jamilla. Sorry, I didn’t even say did I?”

Jack slid into the stool beside me, wedging me between him and his brother. “How was Dublin?” That was directed at his sibling.

Conor perked up at this as Jamilla wracked her brain remembering that he was some kind of musician. “It was cold, but the shows were good. I met up with Chris and we got some writing done.”

Their interaction was worlds away from what she’d have with her family, but the genuine conversation between brought back memories of better times for her. It was, heartwarming almost, being a part of a calm, genuine morning conversation between the two. Maybe she didn’t belong here but she felt... alright.

“I saw the video you posted, man, Mikey really copped it.” Conor laughed, Jack joining in. Although clueless as to what the topic was, she smiled along, sipping at her almost empty coffee. A Tinder date was most definitely not supposed to conclude like this. But, fuck the system, hey? This was good.

—

She didn’t have much time to think about treating herself to a night out that week. It was downright horrid, filled with work issues, extra shifts, back pain and family arguments. Jack hadn’t texted her and she was glad she didn’t have to turn him away. She just felt like shit.

Jada was her closest friend, living at home with her parents after become a single teen mother. They didn’t see each other enough because of conflicting schedules, but she was always there for her through a text. Jamilla opened her phone to vent her problems.

Jamillla: fml! bro started another fight at school and got suspended. seriously I’m sick of his shit. plus, got laid off work today bc pubs closing down. where tf am I going to get enough money to cover rent? 🤬

She sent it with a sigh, realising too late that it was to completely the wrong person. Of course it fucking Jack. Fuck.

Jamilla: shiiiiit that wasn’t meant for you sorry!

Jamilla hoped he wouldn’t get the wrong idea, praying he’d just leave her on read so she didn’t have to negotiate any strange conversations. But her wishes weren’t granted, with only minutes later her phone vibrating against the bed.

Jack: Ahah that’s okay. But shit, that sucks ☹️I’m sorry to hear that.

He came across sympathetic in his texts even though she knew he wouldn’t think she had it this bad. Nevertheless, her heart swelled at his care for her before she shook it off as absurd. Her phone buzzed again.

Jack: You know, if you want to destress or forget hmu 😉

Fuck. Normally she’d kill for a way to run away from her problems, to relieve her storm of stresses. But she felt awful, too lethargic and drained to bring herself to want to do any of that. She’d be honest with Jack, she guessed, he deserved that much.

Jamilla: Normally I’d jump on that but I’m not feeling it at all. Honestly just feeling too shit. Sorry x

Jack responded to my message within moments.

Jack: Don’t be sorry, if ur not feeling it ur not feeling it.

Jack: If you want you can come over anyway. I have wine and Netflix and I love gossip.

Jamilla had to read that message twice. What? Was he inviting her over to hangout and drink and watch TV? No sex involved? Was he hoping she’d change her mind...? He wasn’t like that, though.

Tinder, she sighed. Sex, not friendships.

Jamilla: R u hoping to get lucky? Bc seriously, not in the mood.

Her text was snappy, to the point and probably rude but she sent it before she even thought it over, her muddled brain thinking too many things at once.

Jack: I swear to god that is not my intention. I know we’re just hookups or whatever, I just thought you might appreciate some company after ur shit day. If it’s too weird nvm.

Jamilla stared at her phone for a minute. She considered just leaving him on read and going to sleep, but now her mind had latched onto images of ranting it out to Jack, drinking wine, chilling out and chatting, his familiar touch...

Shit, she was in too far. But it was just what she needed, she thought, so screw it being weird. She needed someone to lean on.

Jamilla: Fuck it I’ll be there in 15. Don’t drink all the wine without me.

—

Knocking on Jack’s door was a new thing. So was showing up here so early, and by herself. Jamilla felt uneasy for a second before the door swung open.

Soon she was swaddled up on his couch, glass of red wine in hand and legs stretched out across the sofa. Jack sat close, arm stretched out along the top of the sofa behind me.

“Tell me your drama, your problems!” He exclaimed brightly, his white teeth making an appearance.

Jamilla cast her gaze down. She couldn’t tell him she was barely scraping by as it was, lower class and looking after a family. Shit, she didn’t want this - whatever this was becoming, sex, friendship? - to end right here. She was too ashamed to admit to what her life was.

She shrugged as she swished about her drink. “I don’t know, where do I even begin?”

“Are you seriously not going to be able to pay rent?” Jack asked. She felt a sense of dread flow over me, thinking maybe this was a mistake, coming here. “I thought you lived with your family?”

“I do, I mean I was being a bit dramatic.” Jamilla attempted to cover up the extent. “I won’t be able to cover my share of the rent. I chip in.”

“Ah,” Jack sighs, taking another sips of his drink. “That still sucks, getting laid off.”

“You know all about it huh?” She teased back with a cheeky smile. “Youtube kicking you out?”

“Fuck off.” He laughed back. She liked this. She really liked this and she really liked him, Jamilla thought as they continued their conversation.

Soon they were several glasses in, tipsy and full of giggles despite the frustration behind Jamilla’s stories. And fuck, she’d accidentally just blurted out that she was a high school drop out. Fuck.

Despite the alcohol in her system she felt a sense of shame rush through her mind. Jack looked at her unwaveringly, not judgemental but Jamilla couldn’t help but feel nervous. “Sorry, not too attractive is it?”

Jack, whose knee was now pressed against her thigh, somehow shuffling closer during the extent of our talking, tilted his head slightly. “I wouldn’t think any less of you.” He admitted candidly, not tearing those blue eyes away from Jamilla. And then, fuck, before she can even think or react, Jack slides his arm around her shoulders, bringing his face close and pressing his lips to hers.

They’d kissed before, Jamilla had enjoyed it, but this was different - not lust driven, rushed and feverish. No, this was gentle, sweet and fucking hell she swore it melted her heart in places. Shit.

It made her feel warm, secure, bubbly... she felt so right yet she pulled away.

Jack looked guilty, removing his hand from her body. “Damnit,” he sighed “sorry, it’s habit.”

Jamilla laughs it off. But fucking Jesus Christ, what has she got herself into... is she getting too attached? Is this fucking fair? What does she want from it... and why does she feel so good when she’s with him?

—

Her neck was cramped when she woke up, and she winced in pain as she turned her face on the pillow. But it definitely wasn’t her pillow she realised as she opened her eyes. Shit. She was at Jack’s.

Jamilla sat upright on the couch, pulling the blanket away from her. She couldn’t recall the last moments of her evening, only remembering watching some Netflix show with a funny name? Some guy shooting some one and...?

She must have dozed off during it. Fucking hell, what was she doing? At this rate she’d spend more time at his then at her own home. She’d look like a real gold digger if he found out her situation.

Throat dry and feeling dehydrated, Jamilla walked to the kitchen, filling a glass with water from the tap and sculling it eagerly. She almost dropped it though when two hands landed on her shoulders.

“Shit, Jack,” Jamilla cursed when she spotted the perpetrator. “That gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. His hands brush across bare skin for a moment, distracting. She sighs.

She felt bad for staying over, a arrow of concern stabbing at her know what this looked like... but maybe his bed was comfortable, his Wifi worked and he had a supply of food and drinks, but she didn’t come for that. It was him, she fucking swore, she liked his company and not his possessions.

Jack of course made no fuss about it, not appearing even mildly worried about her spending time here. “Whenever you need it.” He smiled, and for a second Jamilla worried he knew, knew she was poor and on the verge of losing her flat. Fuck, don’t be dumb, she thought, of course he didn’t. He was just being kind.

Jack Maynard was... shit. She was smitten.

—

She found her thoughts shifting to the Brighton boy more times than she’d like to admit that week. She pictured him teasing her about her black coffee when she got up each morning, laughing at her clumsiness, the way he’d listen to her stories attentively unlike that dumb coworker. She wanted to detach herself, yet she couldn’t stop him popping up in her minds. In her lunch break - barely half an hour - Jamilla even hacked the Wifi and went to his YouTube channel and holy sheezus he had 1.5 million subscribers. That terrified her, not quite aware he was that popular. Shit. She considered maybe letting it simmer for a bit, having a few weeks off seeing him - but on Friday a reminded pinged on her phone saying otherwise.

Jack Maynard: DJ Set @ London Club

Time: 8.00pm, Saturday the 4th

Shit. Jamilla had some feint recollection of discussing his work, a memory somewhere of him saying he had a show... she didn’t know he entered a fucking reminder in her phone.

Later that evening she got a text.

Jack: Be there or be square? 😊

Jamilla would have to go straight from work, onto the bus across town to make it just at eight. Her uncle probably wouldn’t be too impressed but she was 22, she deserved to let loose right? To have friends and go to events? And Jack seemed so excited... she couldn’t even begin to think of a disappointed Jack before she’d made her decision.

It was epic. She’d got there just on the dot of eight, rushing to the ticket booth praying she had enough cash or else it’d be embarrassing. When she slid her ID over the gateman pushed it back. “You’ve got a pre booked ticket, paid and everything mam.”

That bitch, Jamilla grumbled, taking the ticket nonetheless and heading inside. The beats were sick, the sweaty people jumping up and down in the same mood as her - hyped, excited, energised - and watching Jack’s face while he worked made her heart throb. He thought he spotted her, eyes falling on hers but she couldn’t be sure. She smiled anyway.

Jack: Thx for coming. Meet me backstage?

Jamilla receive this message from him just as the show had ended, unsure what to make of it. A booty call? A chat?

She went anyway, the couple of security guards seeming to know she was all good to come through. Jack was just striding into the dressing room when she entered.

“Jamilla, hey.” He grinned widely.

And then his kissed her, out of nowhere, his hands pressed against her jaw, her waist, kissing her deeply. This was no fucking mistake, no ‘habit’ and oh Jesus fuck.

She couldn’t help but reciprocate at first - it was intoxicating, drawing her into him - but she pulled away after a minute.

“Are you trying to get me in bed?”

Jack seemed stunned by her words. “No, no.”

He was fucking getting attached, like she was getting attached to him. This was bad, this was what wasn’t supposed to happen from a tinder date. Hookups not relationships and - she was going to have to walk away, more for his sake than hers.

“Shit, Jack,” she began, hand tugging at her hair. “This was supposed to be a hookup and the fuck knows how we screwed it up so bad. Look, I can’t really do seriously commitment stuff, I’m not up for that and I think we’re both getting too attached. This isn’t... right, I’m not right for you anyway. I think...” she watched his eyes scan across hers, betrayed, puzzled. God damn you Jack Maynard. “We should probably leave this here. You’re show was awesome, thank you.”

And she turned on her heel and exited into the hallway, her lips still buzzing from their kiss and a loud curse echoing down in the distance. Jamilla let a single tear drip from her eye before sucking it up. Walk away.

—

Jack called the next day. Jamilla let it ring out and was grateful he didn’t leave a voicemail. He did text though.

Jack: Jamilla can’t we even talk about it? You don’t have to cut me off completely.

She felt guilty but wouldn’t let herself reply. It was over - the sex was good, he was good, but it was never going to work. Yet that lunch break she found herself watching one of his videos on his channel, watching that smile, his Brighton accent, the shine in his eyes and she knew she was in deeper than she’d thought, that’d it’d hurt more than maybe she expected. There was some dull throb somewhere that ached, longing, missing, regretting.

He called a few times over that week - sometimes while is was at work, others at home which she left unanswered anyway. Her sister Greta even saw it one time, almost answering it before Jamilla called out to leave it. Her younger sibling smirked at the heart next to his name so she deleted it. It was over. But it was like each time he called it made her more emotional, know, shit, he actually cared about me. He actually cares.

She was going well, she was going strong for almost a month? when she finally cracked. It was after anything fucked up day, she was just finished screaming with her brother about staying in school and searching the house for loose coins, her boss wouldn’t give her more shifts and her uncle was late home, meaning she had to cook. And she was so angry, so emotional, that she walked off down the almost desolate urban streets to clear her rage. But when he called, tears already threatening her eyes, she snapped, sliding her finger across the answer button in a quick, fiery motion.

“What do you fucking want Jack? What the fuck do you want from me that you keep calling for, huh? I think I made myself clear.”

There was a pause on the other end - fucking hell, he was probably more than baffled by her sharp, angry voice. “Uh, shit Jamilla. I didn’t know we ended on such bad terms, I must have read the fucking situation wrong again.”

There was some malice to his words, probably riled up by her uncalled for, spitting tone. Fair enough, in hindsight. She knew he was hinting at something, not subtlety, such as him playing him along.

Jamilla rebutted with no lapse in her fury. “Maybe you did, Jack. But what do you want me to say, huh? What do you want to hear?”

“I just want some fucking answers, I want to know why you just cut it off, cut everything off after... it was fine. Don’t you get why I’m confused?”

“I gave you fucking answers!” She spat back. “I gave you plenty of fucking answers - we were getting too attached for a goddamn hookup, I don’t fucking do relationships and that’s what it was becoming... I’m not even good enough for you. Isn’t that enough Jack? Or would you like to hear the detailed fucking truth and not in so many words? Do you want to hear that I’m a fucking sleaze, a high school dropout with two minimum wage jobs about to loose the drug dealer flat I live in with my fucking family? That I work too many hours, that I try every fucking day to keep my siblings in school so they don’t end up dirt poor like we are, that my uncle is has depression because he works too much and I put more stress on him everyday I can’t get a better paying job? That I drink too much to fucking forget and I bitch to my one friend because my life’s so fucking hard? Do you fucking want some poor scum, some shitty gold digger of a girl in your fucking life? For Christ’s sake, Jack, do you want me to be so fucking selfish that I throw it all away to make myself happy?”

She was out of breath when she finished. There were salty tears slipping from her eyes but she was too exhausted to stop them. She’d given up on hiding tonight, her emotions had control and her feelings had been laid bare.

Before he could say anything she hangs up, finding her way to a graffitied park bench and letting herself drown in her overwhelming stream of thoughts and emotions.

Her phone rang beside her. She hadn’t expected him to call back right away, she thought she would’ve scared him off for a little longer maybe. But fuck, she let out a sob when she saw his name across the screen in a matter of seconds. She answered with no thought.

“Yes?” Her voice has a softer, subdued sound to it now, the anger long disappeared into the night.

“Jamilla,” Jack spoke, strained but laced with a whisper of something else. “Jamilla, you’re so strong. You’re so strong - it doesn’t matter that you’re poor, it doesn’t change anything, not to me. You’re not poor because you-you don’t work hard... it’s because you’re in a shitty situation, that’s all. How could I judge you on something so far out of your control? Jamilla, you’re so busy worrying about other people that you- you’re allowed to do things for yourself - it’s not selfish, it’s fucking self-care. ...isolating yourself isn’t okay, you need people, you need support, you need friends... everyone does, Jamilla, it’s normal. I want to be there for you. Please...”

Fresh tears pricked at her eyes, the Brighton boy on the other end of the phone speaking something so genuine and meaningful, touching. As he trailed off she wiped at her sticky tears.

“... just think about it, okay? Call me anytime. Please don’t cut yourself off again. I’m here.”

“Thank you.” She whispered back.

—