The One He Never Stopped Looking For

Chapter One - The Girl Nobody Knew

Series: Chapter 1 of 5

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For six years, everybody knew Jude Bellingham had a girlfriend.

Nobody knew who she was.

There had never been an official post. No carefully staged birthday tribute. No red-carpet debut with his hand placed neatly at the small of your back.

There were only traces.

A woman laughing somewhere behind the camera during one of his interviews. A second suitcase reflected in the glass of a hotel window. A delicate gold bracelet wrapped twice around his wrist before an important match.

Once, after scoring, Jude had run toward the family section and pointed at someone just beyond the frame.

The clip had been analysed for weeks.

Fans enlarged reflections in windows, compared handbags, examined shadows and tried to identify the female voice that occasionally appeared in the background of his brother’s videos.

They never found you.

That had been intentional.

You had met Jude long before the world began treating his private life like an unfinished puzzle.

Before the enormous stadiums. Before Madrid. Before his face appeared on buildings and buses and the sides of shops.

Back then, he was simply Jude.

A boy who stole chips from your plate even after insisting he was not hungry. A boy who became unbearably quiet before important matches. A boy who would leave training exhausted and still travel across Birmingham just to sit beside you for half an hour.

You had grown up together.

You had become adults together.

And somewhere between teenage kisses and long-distance flights, you had started believing that love could survive anything as long as it was strong enough.

You had been wrong.

It had not ended because either of you stopped loving the other.

That would have been easier.

It ended because eventually every conversation became a negotiation.

When would you see each other?

Who would travel?

How long could you stay?

Could he call after training?

Could you rearrange your work schedule?

Could he please, just once, be the one to come to you?

You worked as a social worker in Birmingham, supporting teenagers who were leaving care or struggling to remain in education. It was not glamorous. Nobody photographed you entering your office. Nobody waited outside to ask what you were wearing.

But it mattered to you.

The young people mattered.

Your life mattered.

And somewhere along the way, you had begun living as if it did not.

The final argument happened in Madrid.

You had travelled there after working a full week, arrived late on Friday and spent most of Saturday alone because an unexpected training obligation had come up.

Jude returned after midnight.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter in one of his old shirts, your untouched dinner cold beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

You stared at the dark window.

“It’s fine.”

He stopped.

You had said those words too many times.

“It’s not fine.”

“No.”

Jude placed his keys on the counter.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’ve been waiting?”

You gave him a tired smile.

“What else would I be doing?”

His expression tightened.

“I told you training might run late.”

“You said an hour.”

“I couldn’t leave.”

“I know.”

“You don’t sound like you know.”

You looked at him then.

He was exhausted. You could see it in the way he held his shoulders and the faint shadows beneath his eyes.

For years, the sight of his tiredness had been enough to make you swallow your own feelings.

That night, something inside you refused.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Jude stared.

“Do what?”

“This.”

You gestured helplessly between the untouched plates, the empty apartment and the suitcase you had barely unpacked.

“Travel across countries to spend twenty minutes with you.”

“You knew I had training.”

“It isn’t only tonight.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s everything.”

His jaw tightened.

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“You don’t call when you say you will. You cancel plans, and I pretend it doesn’t hurt because I know you’re busy. I use almost all my annual leave to come here, and you keep telling me it will calm down after the next match or the next tournament or the next season.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do know. Say it.”

You looked at him.

“I want you to notice that I’m unhappy without me having to beg.”

“I know you’re unhappy.”

“Then why hasn’t anything changed?”

“Because I can’t change my career!”

“I never asked you to.”

“You keep acting like football is something I’m choosing over you.”

“It feels like it is.”

Jude took a step back as if you had struck him.

“You knew who I was.”

“I knew who you were. I didn’t know I would eventually disappear inside your life.”

Silence filled the kitchen.

You could hear the hum of the refrigerator.

Jude looked away.

“Move here.”

Your chest tightened.

“We’ve discussed this.”

“You can work here.”

“I have a job.”

“You could find another one.”

“And my family? My friends? The young people I work with?”

“You’d have me.”

The words were meant to be romantic.

They only made you feel more alone.

“That isn’t enough.”

Jude’s face changed.

You regretted it immediately.

Not because it was untrue, but because of the way he looked at you.

As if you had just taken six years and reduced them to nothing.

“You’re saying I’m not enough?”

“I’m saying I need a life that still belongs to me.”

“I never stopped you.”

“No. You just built a life so big that mine had to fit into the spaces you left.”

He stared at you for a long time.

Then he turned toward the window.

You wanted him to argue.

You wanted him to promise everything would change.

You wanted him to cross the room, hold your face and tell you that losing you was not an option.

Instead, he said, “Maybe you should go home.”

Your heart broke so quietly that he did not seem to hear it.

You packed before sunrise.

At the door, you looked back.

Jude stood by the same window.

He did not turn around.

Neither of you said goodbye.

Four months later, photographs appeared of him with someone else.

Her name was Sofia. She was beautiful in a way that looked effortless even when you knew it could not be. She wore tailored coats, moved easily through cameras and smiled as though she had never once questioned whether she belonged beside him. Within weeks, she was sitting with his family at matches. Within two months, she attended an event with her hand looped through his arm. Everyone knew her name.

The world had spent years searching for you. It found her instead.And perhaps that should not have hurt as much as it did. ou were the one who had wanted privacy. You were the one who had always stepped out of photographs and avoided public entrances.

Still, watching another woman stand openly in a place you had occupied quietly for six years felt like being erased from your own history.

You stopped attending matches. At first. Then Jude was injured.

The second you saw him go down, your entire body went cold.

You stood in front of your television with one hand over your mouth, whispering his name as if he might somehow hear you.

That was when you understood that ending the relationship had not ended the love.

It had only removed your right to show it.

So when his mother sent you a ticket to an England match eight months after the breakup, you went.

You told yourself it was closure.

You did not believe yourself.

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“You can still leave.”

Your friend stood beside you outside Wembley, holding two coffees and looking at you with the deep concern of someone watching an avoidable disaster unfold in real time.

“I’m not leaving.”

“You’ve been staring at the entrance for six minutes.”

“I’m mentally preparing.”

“For what? Football?”

You took the coffee she offered.

“For seeing him.”

“And her.”

You gave her a look.

She raised both hands.

“I’m only acknowledging the extremely elegant elephant in the room.”

People streamed around you in white shirts and England scarves.

Some were singing.

Some were already filming themselves.

The stadium rose above all of you, bright against the evening sky.

Your stomach twisted.

“I’ve seen photographs,” you said.

“That’s different.”

“I know.”

“Does she know who you are?”

“I have no idea.”

“Does Jude know you’re coming?”

“No.”

Your friend looked delighted despite herself.

“Oh, this is terrible.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean emotionally. Narratively, it’s fantastic.”

You tried not to laugh.

The family section felt like walking into a former life.

You recognised nearly everyone.

Parents, siblings, childhood friends, partners you had met at birthdays and dinners.

For a few seconds, nobody noticed you.

Then Jobe turned around.

His entire face changed.

“You came.”

Before you could respond, he crossed the row and pulled you into a hug.

It was immediate and fierce.

You closed your eyes.

“I can’t breathe.”

“Good.”

“Jobe.”

“You disappeared.”

“I replied to you.”

“You sent me a thumbs-up.”

“That counts.”

“It counts as emotional neglect.”

You laughed into his shoulder.

When he released you, he kept both hands around your arms, looking at you as if he needed to make sure you were real.

“Mum’s going to cry.”

“Please don’t announce me.”

Too late.

Denise saw you.

Her hand flew to her chest.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

The hug that followed nearly undid you.

You had prepared yourself for Jude.

You had not prepared for everybody else.

For the people who had loved you alongside him.

For the painful comfort of familiar perfume and voices and hands.

“We’ve missed you,” Denise whispered.

“I’ve missed you too.”

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright.

“You look beautiful.”

“So do you.”

“Are you all right?”

You nodded because anything else would have made you cry.

Then you saw Sofia.

She sat two rows below you.

Her hair fell in smooth waves over the shoulders of a fitted cream coat. She was speaking to another player’s girlfriend, smiling occasionally at something on her phone.

She looked exactly like the photographs.

Perhaps even more beautiful.

Your chest tightened with a jealousy so sharp it embarrassed you.

Your friend leaned closer.

“She’s very polished.”

“Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything mean.”

“You were thinking something mean.”

“I was thinking her hair looks insured.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

Sofia glanced back at the sound.

Her eyes moved over your face.

For one moment, you looked directly at each other.

There was no recognition in her expression.

Only polite curiosity.

You looked away first.

The players entered the pitch for warm-up.

The stadium erupted.

You found Jude immediately.

Your body recognised him before your mind did.

The familiar way he adjusted his sleeves. The roll of his shoulders. The slight bounce on the balls of his feet.

You knew every movement.

Or you used to.

He jogged toward the far side of the pitch, listening to one of the coaches.

Then his attention shifted toward the family section.

He looked at his parents.

At Jobe.

At Sofia.

Then at you.

Jude stopped moving.

The ball rolled toward him.

It struck his ankle and continued past.

One of his teammates said something and laughed.

Jude did not respond.

His eyes stayed on you.

The noise around you faded.

Eight months disappeared.

He looked exactly as he had the morning you left Madrid.

Hurt. Angry. Unable to look away.

Your friend touched your arm.

“He looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

You forced yourself to breathe.

Jude finally turned away, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

He did not look toward the family section again during warm-up.

During the match, however, he looked constantly.

Whenever play paused.

Whenever he stood waiting for a corner.

Whenever another player was receiving treatment.

You felt his gaze like a physical touch.

England scored in the first half.

Jude scored in the second.

The stadium exploded.

His teammates surrounded him, grabbing his shoulders and shouting.

Jude’s eyes went immediately toward the stands.

Toward you.

You rose with everyone else.

For one reckless second, you forgot everything.

You forgot Sofia two rows below.

Forgot the breakup.

Forgot all the careful reasons you had stayed away.

You smiled at him.

Jude’s expression softened.

Then Sofia stood and blew him a kiss.

The happiness drained from you so quickly it made you dizzy.

Jude looked at her.

Only for a moment.

But you saw it.

Of course you did.

You had spent six years noticing every tiny change in his face.

He smiled.

A small, automatic smile.

It was enough.

You sat down.

Your friend squeezed your hand.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not.”

But you were.

To Sofia.

To Jude.

To yourself.

After the final whistle, the families began moving toward the hospitality areas beneath the stadium.

You remained seated.

Jobe appeared at the end of the row.

“He’s looking for you.”

Your stomach tightened.

“He has other people to look for.”

Jobe followed your gaze toward Sofia, who had already left with several others.

His expression became cautious.

“She knows he had a serious ex.”

“Does she know I’m the ex?”

“I don’t think so.”

You stared at him.

“That seems like important information.”

“Not my relationship.”

“Convenient.”

Jobe sat beside you.

“He misses you.”

“Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss you.”

“It should.”

Jobe looked at you for a long moment.

“He’s not himself.”

You swallowed.

“That isn’t my responsibility anymore.”

“No.”

The answer was gentle.

Somehow, that hurt more.

Your phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

Are you still inside?

You knew the number instantly.

You had deleted his contact months ago.

You had not forgotten a single digit.

Another message arrived.

Please don’t leave.

Your heart began beating faster.

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Series Navigation

Previous: Masterlist Next: Chapter Two - Ghosts

Your eyes widen dropping the cup on the table next to you. "Shut up" you mumble.

Lily rolls her eyes "No need to be jealous, sweetheart. Everyone knows he's yours, practically walks around with 'property of y/n' stamped on him"

"Listen here, Red" you start "I'm not jealous, got it?" you say pouring yourself another drink

Jealous pfft why would you be jealous? You are in a perfectly secure relationship with the most loyal man in the world, how could you be jealous?

The others brows raise in response, "Surrre you're not" Remus says taking a puff of his cigarette.

"I'm not! Who would I be jealous of huh? Blondie over there? The one who's been eyeing James from across the room the whole time? The one who had his quidditch number on her cheek during the game? The daft, dense, mindless little tart who is currently trying to make a move on my boyfriend" you let out with a sarcastic smile "Puhlease, I am totally unbothered"

"Riiight" Sirius is the first to speak the rest looking at you amused. "Well then good thing you're unbothered because looks like she's getting comfortable over there"

In an instant you're out of your seat, heading over there. Leaving behind a smirking group of friends.

"Anyone got popcorn?" Peter asks leaning back in his seat, ready to watch the event unfold.

---

James had just wanted a drink, now he was stuck with some random Hufflepuff girl whose name he couldn't be bothered to remember. Molly? Polly? who cares?? She was becoming way to touchy for him to care.

"Uh yeah" James nodded agreeing to whatever she had been saying whilst trying to shift away.

James' sense of discomfort eases when he sees you making his way over to him. His lips parting as he takes you in. You looked really fucking hot. You were wearing his extra jersey which, with the help of magic, you had made bigger and cinched in all the right places to create a dress. A dress that left James drooling the moment he saw you this morning, not only did it accentuate your curves but it brandished his name. Everyone knew you were his girl and Merlin did he love it.

"Hi darl-" he was cut off but your lips pressing into his. Your fingers threading through his hair tugging softly, whilst pressing closer to him. James hummed in delight pulling you into him his hands travelling down to your ass, paying no mind to girl awkwardly watching the scene. This was not the greeting he was expecting, but who was he to complain?

When you finally pulled away you giggled at his dazed state, straightening his glasses and wiping the lip gloss from his lips as he looked at you with glossy eyes.

The girl coughed, turning your attention to her “Oh sorry! did I interrupt something?” you exclaimed in faux surprise, smiling at the obviously irritated girl.

“Yes actually” she scoffed “Me and Jamie were just making hogsmeade plans, weren’t we?” she pouted looking towards him, only to find him watching you with wide eyes and a stupidly adorable smile.

Jamie? The. Fucking. Audacity.

“Oh were you?” you smirked stroking the back of James’ head “Is that true, my love?” you sent him a soft smile.

“Huh?” he murmured letting his eyes trail over your body.

You couldn’t help out but let out a laugh watching the girl scowl.

“Jamie” you gained his attention cupping his cheek.

“Yeah”

“It’s rude to not respond baby, she’s asking you something”

“Oh” he blinked “ What was the question?” he asked keeping his eyes on you.

“Whatever” The girl scoffed walking away.

James payed her no mind, pulling you back into him kissing over your face.

“You. Look. Fucking. Ethereal.” he emphasized kissing you after each word

“Mhmm could’ve seen me in something better if you weren’t distracted” you teased, pouting as you trailed a finger down his chest.

James’ head filled with ideas of what that ‘something better’ his breath catching before he caught up with your words.

“Distracted?”

“Mhm with that girl” you say eyes drifting to the Hufflepuff, who was still watching, complaining to her friends.

James smirked as he saw the look of disgust on your face. Were you jealous?

"Find something amusing?" you raised a brow, pulling away "Were you having a nice time her?"

"With Polly?" James chuckled "I couldn't give a shit about her, love."

"I thought her name wa-"

"Who gives a fuck?" James deadpanned pulling you back into him "Why would I care about her when I've got all this" he reasoned running his hands over your body. "As if she could compare to my sexy goddess of a girlfriend"

You couldn't help but smile all your worries washing away, you leaned up whispering in his ear "Yeah well your sexy girlfriend has a present for her champion boyfriend" kissing under his ear before continuing "A red lacy present"

James groaned, his pants tightened as he burrowed his head into your neck. "I should make you jealous more often"

" 'm not jealous" you roll your eyes

"Whatever you say princess"

You locked eyes with the girl over his shoulder, smirking as he kissed at your neck.

Dating Dodge and working at the same job certainly wasn’t for the weak.

You’d started working at the Dot’s diner as a summer job, something to keep you out of the mess that was your house. Earning money made you feel secure about yourself, even if you didn’t make that much.

Dodge did it all. He served, cooked and cleaned. So when you came in for an interview he could finally let out a breath of relief. The manager hired you in a heartbeat, she could tell that Dodge couldn’t possibly handle everything by himself. He was glad you could help him out.

He didn’t plan to fall in love with you in the process.

It all started very quietly and shy. That’s how it was with Dodge, he always kept to himself. You were a reserved person too so you appreciated his behavior towards you.

He started by making you coffee whenever you had your morning shift, or by stealing some food for you even if you had made it abundantly clear that you had already eaten.

After months of pining and teetering teasing you both finally gave in. Your first kiss happened in the back of the diner while you were both having your smoke break. It was sweet and tender, you can still recall the smokey taste of his tongue twirling with yours while you gripped tightly on his apron.

After that the situation went out of control.

Smoking breaks turned into sex breaks. Wherever you could find some privacy, you’d go at it until you had to go back to work. Adjusting your hair and clothes as you didn’t have Dodge’s cum dripping from your hole at every step you took.

Dodge was a reserved person it’s true, but during sex he seemed like a totally different person. The way he had control and manhandled you as he wanted turned you on more than it should.

Your few co-workers were tired of the constant PDA but you couldn’t help it, every time you were close your hands burned and ached to touch each other. You hoped that the manager hadn’t caught up on that because one of you (or both) could seriously get in trouble and you didn’t want that,especially for Dodge.

Dodge needed his job, he had to work to help out his mom and sister bring some food to the table. You on the other hand were only doing it to get out of the house more, your family was stable financially but you wanted to feel more independent. Plus it kept you out of the constant arguments your parents involved you in.

Working with Dodge was a breath of fresh air. It was tiring, very tiring, but somehow the burn of your feet seemed to dissipate whenever he glanced at you with a smile, or when he’d signal you to sneak outside to kiss your tiredness away.

It was almost perfect, almost.

Dodge was a looker, you knew that. The majority of your costumers were girls trying to get his attention. Short skirts and deep cut shirts flooded your nightmares. They all bought his mysterious loner guy act and he never did anything to clear that title up, you guess he enjoys it.

Most of the girls begging for Dodge’s attention don’t know about you, none of them think a guy like him could be taken,so every single one of them tries to shoot their shot. He is way too nice in declining so they keep coming back.

It’s not like your relationship is a secret, everyone in the diner knows about you two and you make it abundantly clear to let those girls know too,whether it’s by squeezing his side or by hugging him from behind. They simply don’t seem to get the fucking hint.

Your co-workers always tell you when something’s up with Dodge and some girls who won’t leave me alone. Today is one of those days.

Dodge’s taking an order from this red head who won’t stop flattering her eyelashes and touch his arm. She laughs at every word he says and you can feel rage boiling in your stomach as you watch their interaction behind the counter. You torture your bottom lip with your teeth when he comes back with the order.

He talks to you but you can’t hear, you still stare at her like your eyes could burn a spot on her head.

“Y/n? Baby?!” you blink a few times when he waves a hand in front of your face, confused of your behavior “Yes?”

“I said we need to get started on the order for table 4” he repeats putting his pen away in the pocket of his apron “Is that the redhead’s table?” you nudge at her “The-“ he looks at where your attention is fixed on “Yeah, that’s the one”

“You can get her order ready yourself since she enjoys talking to you so much” you cross your arms under your chest as you keep looking at the back of her head, rage fueling your veins. Yes you were being a brat but you couldn’t help it. When it came to Dodge you simply couldn’t control yourself.

You’re jealous of how good she looks under the diner’s lights, when you’re covered in stains and probably smell like stir fry.

Dodge looks at you, the hint of a grin almost spreading on his face “Baby it’s my job to talk to costumers” he’s already having fun watching how jealous you get, which of course makes you even more enraged.

“You think this is funny?” you tilt your head and your ponytail swings with your movement. He bites back a smile and shakes his head “No ma’m. Just doing my job”

“She’s flirting with you…is that also your job?”

Dodge lets a laugh escape his mouth and you glare at him. He coughs and straightens his back “She- I wasn’t”

“Storage room, now” you tell him turning away and walking towards the locked storage room. It’s not time for your break but today’s pretty slow in the diner except for that girl getting in your way and some usual costumers.

Dodge gulps down and looks around him before following closely behind you. You unlock the door and you both get inside. Dodge locks the door behind him before turning to you “Baby we’re not on break we could get in trouble” he walks towards you, the way he backs you to the desk shows no intention of actually going back to work.

“You’re already in trouble” you point out and he smirks “Oh am i now? What exactly did i do to get myself in it huh?” he grabs your chin and tilts your head up staring hungrily into your eyes.

“You’re so fucking oblivious when girls try to flirt with you” you scoff. He bites his lip and hums “I’m oblivious because i don’t care… i only have you in my mind” he places a kiss on the corner of your mouth but you don’t let his words charm your head.

“You’re telling me you don’t ever think about reciprocating?” you ask tilting your head, your quick glance to his lips weakens you for a moment. He immediately shakes his head, pressing his body into yours and holding your hips firmly.

He lowers down his head to your neck, nipping at the soft skin below your ear that makes you squeeze a portion of his large bicep with your hand. He is not getting out of this so easily.

You try to back away but he hovers above you in a way that’s impossible for you to break free. His large hands keep you in place as you squirm “What are you doing?” he asks huffing a laugh and backing away so slightly to look at you.

“I’m still mad” he brushes his thumbs on both of your sides,making you shiver. You hate how your body betrays you so quickly when it comes to him “Let me make it up to you,okay?” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he keeps looking at you with that look you know far too well.

Dodge kneels between your legs, resting his head on your womb as he circles his arms around you. Then he looks up at you from there, his eyes glossy, his lips slightly parted “Sit on the desk” you’re way to mesmerized by how hot and submissive he looks to talk back right now, so you sit on the edge of the desk, your legs automatically spreading to invite him in.

He touches both of your covered thighs with his palms, shifting up and down soothingly until they stop to unbutton your jeans. He slides them down with your help. You can’t believe you’re giving in to his praises.

Or maybe this will help you shake off the nerves crippling on your skin, maybe you should keep advantage of this.

You untie your apron and throw it away in a corner of the room. Dodge’s fingers ghost above the fabric of your panties. He breathes in your scent before sliding them to the side to see you, glistened and swollen.

Your hand goes into his hair, gripping it and pulling him closer as your breath gets heavier and heavier. He teases your folds with his tongue and you whine “Really? Are you trying to make me more mad?”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating in your insides “I wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart” he flaps his tongue on you, licking a long stripe that makes you shiver. You keep his head steady by his hair as he sucks on your clit, eyes closed and lost in the motion. The moans that escape you are so sweet they make Dodge’s hips buckle against your leg.

Dodge looks up at you to se your face, your cheeks are starting to tint and your lip is trapped between your teeth. He smiles at the sight and he can’t help but grind again against your leg. You can feel his erection brushing against you and you take advantage of it, moving your leg against him.

He moans while he eats you out, desperately rocking his hips against your leg like a dog in heat. His tongue enters your hole and you gasp as it hits all the right spots that make you squirm. He holds your thighs, spreading you open as he keeps humping your leg shamelessly.

Dodge keeps thrusting his tongue into you and you start to clench around it, the sensation almost too much to keep your orgasm from clashing over you. He starts to pant, you hear it and his tongue gets more sloppy. He’s close, you can tell “You taste so good” he whines “So perfect for me”.

You can’t stop the whimpers coming out of your mouth and you start riding his tongue reaching your release in no time. Your orgasm coats his face and he licks you through it until you stop shaking. His hips continue to buckle up against your leg and he starts to moan louder, his chest moving heavily as you look down at him. The friction almost unbearable to him.

It turns you on how desperate for your touch he looks right now “Are you close?” you ask, he nods eagerly. You lean in and kiss his swollen lips, tasting your release on his tongue. He kisses you back and holds tightly on your leg. When he starts to gasp, you know he’s close so you decide to pull your leg away, robbing him of his orgasm.

Dodge looks at you in shock, frustrated with you “What? Baby please i’m- i’m so close” he whines trying to reach you. You shift away knowing that if he catches you there’s no way you can escape him again.

“You’ll never learn your lesson if i go easy on you” you tell him putting your jeans back on “But- i can’t go back to work with a hard on! Baby please i’ll be good i promise!” he walks towards you on his knees, begging you to touch him “That’s not my problem” you take your apron back from the floor and tie it back on. He stares at you from where he’s kneeling, trying to win you over again with his puppy eyes.

You look down at him “Get up” he quickly does so, his hands finding your hips immediately. His jeans are visibly tented and you laugh “You’re lucky we have to wear aprons” he groans leaning his head against your shoulder.

“How was work?”

Soap's response was muffled as he spoke from the doorway.

“It was alright. The team and I are heading out for drinks if you want to join.”

You tried your best to mask the disappointed tone in your voice.

“Oh…”

You knew who ‘The team’ included. You figured that out a while back when his phrasing switched from ‘The lads’ to a more gender-neutral term.

You still joked about his 'work girlfriend' from time to time. Still pretending that it was just that... a joke. But, some nights, you barely felt like you were pretending at all.

You considered the question. You had been enjoying your night and were content with it, but his question caused anxiety in your stomach to resurface.

The thought alone irritated you, going out with his friends that you hardly knew, being a third wheel to your own boyfriend and some other girl.

“No thanks, I think I’d rather just stay in tonight.”

You responded, looking back down mindlessly at your phone.

Soap pushed off the doorway and shuffled around the room, getting ready. Your thoughts flooded in and you looked up blankly at the wall in contemplation.

Finally, you got up from the couch, following him to the room to get dressed yourself.

"Actually, I will go."

You said, opening your closet. Soap smiled.

"Alright, good."

He seemed glad you changed your mind.

You didn't feel like going out to the bar tonight but, sitting home worrying about what was happening in your absence would feel much worse than the jealousy of watching another girl practically flirt with your boyfriend.

At least if you were there, you'd know nothing was happening. It was important for your sanity that you avoid the scenarios your mind would drag you through all night. Besides, whether you go or not, the cozy night in was long gone.

You brushed out your hair, changing into one of your best outfits, at least in your opinion, You wanted to feel confident in an otherwise uncomfortable situation. If you put your best foot forward maybe you could keep Soap's attention on you instead.

As time passed and Soap was about ready for the both of you to head out, your mind went on a self-loathing spiral. Suddenly, your hair wasn't cooperating no matter how much you messed with it, your outfit was itchy and not looking as good as you'd originally thought, and irritation consumed you as you desperately tried to fan the thin layer of sweat on your forehead with your hand.

Nothing felt right. Everything was uncomfortable.

Of course, Soap never failed to see the changes in someone he held so close to his heart.

He had noticed your distance in the past weeks. And how your mood shifted on days when she was brought up. At least, that’s what he assumed this was about, the new girl at work. It was evident in how your jaw clenched when you listened to him talk about his day. And then there was the joke. His 'work girlfriend'... a ridiculous title.

Soap was far from dense when it came to reading you. And despite his best effort to keep a cheerful front, he knew something was bothering you.

He’d kept quiet about it, still battling his uncertainty about whether she was really the issue, hoping you’d come to him yourself when you were ready. You normally did.

But, as days passed and the mental torment continued to plague you, Soap knew this wasn’t something you were going to open up about. Not without a nudge.

He began to wonder even, what was it that had you losing sleep? He couldn’t recall any of his interactions with her drifting into cheating territory… and sure she was pleasant enough… Soap thought to himself as he noted her features. Pretty face and slender figure… A part of him, buried deep within, would admit that she was attractive. But that same part immediately reminded him that she didn’t hold a candle to you.

That’s why as he pulled the car into the parking lot, he didn’t move to unbuckle his seatbelt or get out. Instead, he turned the keys to cut the engine and left them dangling in the ignition.

Soap had had enough of this. Your avoidant glances, loud troubled sighs, the heaviness in your shoulders. Clearly, this problem was weighing you down and it was his duty to unload the burden before potentially bringing you to hang out with said 'problem'.

You paused with your hand on the car.

“Aren’t we going in?”

You asked, not understanding why he hadn’t gotten out.

“Not yet, Lass… we need to talk.”

You hesitated and leaned back in your seat.

“What about?”

The tone of your voice suggested you already knew but, part of you held out hope that you were wrong. It wasn’t like you wanted to stuff this all down. The swirling of anxiety that constantly sat in your abdomen was the hardest thing to deal with each day. But how could you bring up something so ridiculous?

How could you look him in the eye and complain about his behavior with another girl when he’d done nothing wrong? It only made you look worse than you felt.

“I know there is something on your mind… So, we aren’t leaving here until you talk to me.”

His voice was sweet and gentle… just as it always had been. With a sigh, Soap placed a hand on yours rubbing his calloused palm comfortingly over the back.

You were prepared to deny it... to remain stoic and pretend that you didn't feel this way but, it was Johnny, and as always something in the way his skin felt on yours caused your stubborn attitude to crumble without much hesitation.

“I don’t know… it’s stupid.”

Something you often said to diminish your own feelings and brush off the conversation.

“Talk to me.”

His concerned tone was genuine, inviting, and warm. He always knew how to make you feel safe and welcome to open up. He gave you no reason to doubt that you would be met with anything less than love and understanding.

“I guess… I’ve just been feeling a bit insecure… and jealous,”

You admitted,

"Of her."

Johnny looked at you attentively. He didn't speak, or change his expression, just listened and waited for you to continue.

"She's everything I'm not. And I just can't help but feel like you would make a much better couple than you and I. She could be someone you could keep by your side without shame and embarrassment. Someone you could be proud to call yours."

For a moment, Johnny was quiet. He turned away thoughtfully before speaking.

"Sure, she's pretty. So what? I've already found the one I want to wake up next to for the rest of my life. You aren't just some girl, Lass... You're funny, kind, beautiful. You show me love like no one else ever has. And more than anything... you're mine. Yeah, maybe I could have had a hundred other girls at my side. But, none of them are you. You're the love of my life. And no one's ever going to change that."