#playboy!jake

“And now you got arrested for trying to break through security, and I missed my plane because I was busy getting your ass out of jail. Great job, Ryder -- real genius plan. Now you’ve got time for about 8 hours worth of goodbye kisses because that’s how long it is until the next direct flight to New York. Better make it good.”

“Nobody can cry a whole freaking ocean, Ryder, they’d have to be a person the size of like Jupiter to pull that off. Would you just stop being crazy for a second and talk to me? I know that you’re pissed that I came back without saying anything, but just hear me out.”

“Oh.” Jake’s voice was flat when he spoke up. He should have been happy -- for the first time in forever, he actually felt like he really cared about somebody else. It was terrifying, but also cool as hell, in its own way. Spending time with Ryder made him happy, and he even cracked a few smiles in the other guy’s presence. And for someone who was such a goody goody about not hooking up with the other employees just because he was bored, he was definitely a better kisser than like 99% of the slutty bunnies. 

Ryder was the first person Jake had even thought about wanting to get serious with, but the timing was terrible. He couldn’t be this guy’s everything -- Jake hadn’t even told him everything about himself. Especially the one big thing that was going to throw a wrench in their plans.

Ryder looked at him expectantly; he kept fidgeting, like he was nervous and regretting even saying anything in the first place. And it was a dick move, to not admit that he cared, too, or that he was as into this as Ryder was. But Jake shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I’m leaving in like 2 months. To go to Juilliard.”

“You say that like you had any choice in the matter. You don’t get to decide my life for me, Ryder. I decide what I do. If I stay, I stay. If I go, I go. It’s not up to you. If you wanna come and leave behind a good job so you can come bum around in New York, then that’s your call, but I’m going back whether you come or not.”

“We? Dude, technically I’m not the one that knocked over Santana’s giant flatscreen TV. You’re the one that can’t follow dance instructions well enough to not punch electronics. Just suck it up and tell her already. It’s not like she doesn’t have millions of dollars lying around, and you’re cute. Shit, I mean -- she thinks you’re cute, she likes putting you out there for the customers to see. She’ll get over it.”

[MSG]: Aw, look. Lynn’s all grown up and attending his first underground Playboy Party. [MSG]: Just don’t do something stupid like paint a dinosaur on your chest if you want to actually hang out with me.

“Dude, no one’s saying you haven’t. Okay? If anyone here’s got a job because of luck, it’s me. I’ve got the freaking Puckerman name attached to me, I was basically a shoe in. But -- don’t you ever want something better than this? Being a playboy bunny’s not exactly a real in in the acting community. It might get you a gig as a model or something, but you’re wasting your time here, dude. And you’re better than all this shit Santana expects you to do at fancy parties. I met this dude last week at the club who’s an actual director; let me give you his number. Time to man up and stop hiding here because it’s comfortable, Ryder. I’m leaving soon for Juilliard, time for you to get your ass in gear and get out of here while you can, too.”

[text] Sorry, new phone. Who’s this?[unsent] You’re not supposed to miss me, Ryder.