#samfkiszka

I couldn’t escape Sam Kiszka if I tried. Our families were so intertwined within every aspect of one another, it was impossible. At one point I thought I might have liked Sam. We were friends for as long as either of us could remember, but that changed last summer. I don’t hate him, per se, but I hated that night and having to pretend we were still friends to save face.

The annual Kiszka camping trip had become a tradition of our own. It was nice being around others considering I’m an only child. Except last summer Sam and I got a little… too much around one another, one could say. We waited until the fire died down and everyone nestled into their tents before sneaking out. We snagged a couple beers from the cooler and jumped into the bed of Kelly’s truck with a blanket. What started as two teens stealing some drinks turned into kissing and feeling on one another. Nothing more, nothing less. I felt so wrong afterwards. Like when school started up, somehow everyone would know I let Sam Kiszka squeeze my boobs as I kissed his neck. We never talked about it, instead trying to go about life normally as if anything was still normal.

This year’s camping trip will be the first time I’ve spent time with him since our joint graduation party. He’s been touring with his brothers, they offered me to come along but I found any excuse not to. I remember when Jake invited him to join the band, and by invite I mean shoved the bass in his lap after the previous player failed to show up.

I managed to avoid him most of the night, successfully setting up my tent. This is the first camping trip I embarked on without my parents, meaning I only had myself to worry about. Josh checked in a few times here and there, the only ones to talk to me were Kelly and Karen.

I ran back to my car to get a couple things I forgot. Blanket, pillow, portable charger. As I shuffle around the passenger seat of my car, my elbow bumps something. Well, someone.

“Hey,” Sam awkwardly leans against the car.

“What?” I snap, straightening my posture.

“I just…” He starts, his fingertips accidentally grazing my leg as his hand falls to his side. “I just miss you, Y/n.”

I can’t bring myself to look at him. I haven’t for the better half of a year unless I absolutely needed to. I try focusing on the music blaring by the fire pit to wash him out.

“Y/n, please just say anything?” He pleads, sighing deeply.

“Sam,” I start, struggling to find my words. I’ve never been one to tread lightly, but for him I try. “What happened was… It was a mistake.”

“That’s- that’s fine, Y/n. We can forget it ever happened, I miss my friend.”

I don’t like how hurt he sounds when I call it a mistake, and I don’t like how he calls me friend. Part of me danced with the idea of being more one day, but the awkwardness that entailed that night shoved that thought to the back of my mind. All the time we spent together over the years, I genuinely thought I might have liked him. I liked how his lips felt on mine with his hands on my body. I liked watching his soccer games or band practice. He’s far from ugly, he’s one of the prettiest people I have ever laid my eyes on. I think that’s why it hurt so much. I don’t think he ever liked me, I think it was simply because our families were tight-knit.

I don’t answer him, turning on my heels and slamming the car door shut. As I spin, I drop my pillow on the forest ground and before I can pick it up, Sam comes to the rescue. I don’t tell him not to follow me, I want him to. A smile tugs the corner of my lips as he trails behind me, tossing my pillow into the tent almost aggravatedly.

“Listen, can we just-“

I shove past him to head back to my car. I was so distracted, so flustered, by his presence that I hadn’t grabbed the actual cord to charge my phone with. I hear him follow behind me and again I don’t tell him to go away. I don’t know that I want him to go away. I open the door, leaning across the passenger seat to grab the cord from the center console.

“Y/n, we can’t keep doing this, whatever this is… We have to talk about it.”

“Why? Why are you so persistent about it, Sam?” I raise my eyebrows and wave my hands.

“Because, Y/n.”

“Because isn’t an answer. We’ve been making it work, eventually you won’t even be around so why is it so important to you?”

He doesn’t answer me, just stuffs his hands in his pockets and rummages around before presenting a blunt and a lighter. He’s an asshole for that, using one of my very few weaknesses against me.

Sam and I would smoke by the dock whenever his brothers forced us to go sailing with them at the lake. It was the only way to get past the nausea I got from being on the water, same for him. I hate how much we’re alike, it makes everything harder.

Sam raises his eyebrows and nods his head towards my car as he reaches for the handle of the back seat. Hesitantly, I slide in and he does the same. I watch as he presses the blunt between his lips, the flame from the lighter kissing his features in warmth. All of a sudden I’m seventeen again in the bed of his fathers truck with nothing but a blanket and a dream. My heart pulls in every direction, that feeling I’ve tried so hard to repress attempting to resurface. I look past Sam, fixing my eyes on the bonfire where his entire family sits wishing mine were there, too. I can hardly see them as the sky has grown dark. Sam taps my knee to get my attention, handing off the blunt. His fingers graze mine as I grab it, bringing it to my lips and trying to ignore his hand still on my knee.

We smoke until there’s nothing left, I’ve inched closer to him and we still have not said a word to one another. If the silence could be this easy, then we’d never have to talk about anything.

“You know,” Sam starts, turning his head to face me. “You calling it a mistake really hurts, Y/n.”

“Isn’t that what it was?” Even being virtually in his lap, I still can’t look him in the face.

“Never that. You asked me why it was important to me, do you want an answer?”

“If you even have one,” I shrug and finally find it in me to look at him while he talks.

“Because I liked you, Y/n.”

“Y-you liked me?” The words feel foreign coming from anyone, but especially Sam.

“Shit, baby, I still do.”

The weed is definitely kicking in, his words becoming less sharp and his hands wondering.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Just thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I know we only kissed but fuck, Y/n, I wanted to do so much.”

My cheeks grow pink and warm with his admission. I’d spent more time than I’d like to admit wondering how it would have felt if his hand wandered down my chest and into my pants that night.

I’m so high, I can’t think straight. The more I think about him, the more my body yearns for his touch. My body aches for his fingers and my clit throbs between my legs, desperate for attention.

“I like you, too. I just,” I take a deep breath before moving to straddle Sam’s waist. He places his hands on my hips and my brain can no longer form thoughts outside of him.

“Just what?”

“I was just scared.” I bring my arms around his neck, my fingers twirling the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Scared of me?”

“Uh-uh, you’re not a scary Sammy,”

“Then what am I?” He prods, rubbing his palms up and down my thighs.

“Pretty.” One word was all I could muster up, but one word was all it took. I can feel his length growing beneath me as it rubs against my center. I press down gently and desperately.

“Can I kiss you?” Sam brings one hand up to my face, cupping my jaw as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. Unable to speak, I nod and lean in.

His lips are as soft as I remember, but he tastes different now. He tastes sweet, slightly like butterscotch discs and the residue from the weed. This wasn’t like last time, which was done in a drunken ferver. Sam wasn’t eagerly grasping at my breasts or kissing me fast. He was taking his time, kneading my thigh with one hand as the other pulled my neck closer to him.

He’s getting somehow harder, nearly doubling in size of the bulge I sat on just minutes ago. We’re still kissing, whining and whimpering into one another’s mouth like we both want more but won’t dare ask. I roll my hips against him, eager for relief.

“Fuck, just like that,” He whispers as his head falls back. Both of his hands are resting on my ass, grabbing at the supple skin beneath my shorts as he guides me to grind against him quicker.

Sam starts rutting his hips into me, adding more pressure where I’m not sure I can even handle it. He runs his hands under the hem of my shorts until he reaches my underwear, taking the lacy edge between his fingertips. I fist his t-shirt in the palms of my hands as he firmly grabs my ass and kneads my supple skin. His fingertips dig into my flesh as he presses me into him harder. My clit aches, growing increasingly more sensitive to the touch.

He glides his hands up, perching them on my hips as he helps guide my movements. I open my eyes to his desperate whines, eager to see how his features will match only to be met with brown doe eyes looking back. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips against his again. I can feel myself getting closer to the end, him moaning into my mouth only bringing me there quicker. He moves his hands once again to push up my shirt, cupping my breast in his palm over the bra. It isn’t long before he slides his hand beneath the fabric and reveals one of my breasts to himself, leaning forward to take my nipple into his mouth. Sam circles his tongue around my nipple before suctioning his mouth over it.

“Fuck, Sam…” I manage, quickening the pace of my hips as he continues his actions.

For the final time, Sam moves his hand back to the hem of my panties, tucking his fingers under the lacy edge as he rests them at my entrance. Initially they don’t enter much, but he doesn’t push them inside. Instead he allows me to lower myself onto his fingers each time I push my hips back. The added sensation of his fingers stretching my desperate pussy combined with his hard cock against my clit pushes me over the edge. White heat strikes me and courses through my veins as my head falls into Sam’s neck. I gently suckle the tender flesh behind his ear as I cry out his name, his hips picking up the pace when mine fails.

“Fuck, baby, keep it goin’. You feel like heaven.” He mumbles into my hair, followed by a series of grunts paired with his hips jerking against mine. We hold one another in silence for what feels like eternity, Sam being the first one to break.

“I meant it when I said I like you earlier,”

“I meant it, too, Sam.”

“So, who are we to deny ourselves this pleasure forever?”

He’s snoring in the passenger seat two minutes into your drive home. You’re relieved he’s not awake to make small talk because your nerves are shot. You hadn’t thought about how he would react until the moment you walked out of the bridal suite with Sam, and now you’re sweating bullets trying to figure out how to clean up the mess you made. 

You park and pull him out of the car, tossing his arm over your shoulder and holding him around the waist. You walk side by side up the path to his house, taking extra caution on the steps. 

“Careful,” you say gently as he nearly misses one. He just grumbles in response, the wind blowing his hair in front of his eyes. 

You unlock the door and usher him in, deciding the stairs are simply too much for his drunken state. The couch is the safest option, so you lead him to the living room and get him situated, gently peeling off his suit jacket while he unbuckles his belt and leaves the entire suit crumpled on the floor. He flops onto the couch, his half unbuttoned dress shirt and briefs, his eyes open just a sliver.

It would be cruel to leave him without encouraging him to drink water or setting out some Advil for the morning, so you breeze through the kitchen and bathroom grabbing him two glasses of ice water and a bottle of medicine.

“Here, drink.” You hold the glass straw to his lips and he accepts, chugging half of the first glass. You place it on the end table and move to cover him with a blanket. 

“Staaaaaay,” he lets out in his hoarse, drunken Oliver Reed voice. 

“I can’t.” You talk to him like you’re talking to one of your students. The slight sadness laced through your tone when a 5 year old asks a question but you simply cannot give them the real answer. 

“Thought you wanted to.” Your heart breaks, because you do. You did? You’re not sure. 

“There’s not enough room for me on the couch,” you say gently, pushing his hair out of his face. “Go to sleep and text me to let me know you made it through the night.” You stand and grab your keys, tucking in his feet sticking out from the blanket. Before he has a chance to ask again, sleep takes him, and you sneak out of the front door. 

-oOo-

The week flies by as you prepare for opening night on Friday. When the show ends and the lights come up, you spot Sam and Josh a few rows back participating in the standing ovation as your kids run off the stage to find their parents. You’re dressed in all black with a fish headband to camouflage your big head popping up and miming the dance moves to the little fish onstage. Sam approaches and immediately pulls you into his arms, squeezing you so tightly your feet lift off the ground.  You hold on to his steady shoulders, laughing all the while. 

“I’m so PROUD of you!” he says, gritting his teeth from the amount of pressure he’s using to squeeze you until you pop. 

As soon as he lets you down, Josh pulls you in for a tight hug with a mile wide smile, rubbing your back affectionately.

“That was simply the greatest thing I have ever witnessed. The singing, the lights, the costumes? Bravo.” Josh and his over the top compliments make you laugh as you wave around him at the children leaving the auditorium. Sam absentmindedly fixes a strand of your hair under the headband you’re wearing, and it takes everything in you not to lean into his touch or grab his hand to hold it close.

“Thank you, Josh. I’m really glad you guys could come.” It’s hard not to feel warm and fuzzy from the outpouring of love from these two. The conversation is briefly interrupted by a group of kids running up to hug you around the waist. 

It’s difficult to listen to them all at once, questions occasionally popping out at you. “Did you see my spin?” overtop of a noisy, “CAN I KEEP MY COSTUME?” while a whiny, “I’m gonna miss you, can we do it again?” comes through. The one that makes all of your ears perk up, though, is from the short girl standing between you and Sam, looking up at him with a relentlessly scrutinous glare.

“Is this your husband?!” she asks, her tone implying she’s utterly shocked. You can’t help but burst into laughter, sharing a glance with Sam. 

“No, Lily. This is my friend Sam!” He crouches down and offers her a hand to shake, and she accepts it like they’re about to make a business deal. 

“Hellooooo Lily,” he says, glancing up at Josh who is snickering behind his wrinkled program. You watch as she softens, unable to resist his smile and boyish charm. 

“So do you want to grab a late dinner?” Josh asks as an aside, pulling you from watching Sam interact with your kids, letting the other children swarm him and continue with the intrusive questions. 

“I honestly think I’m gonna just head home. I have to be here super early for the matinee tomorrow, but maybe we can get together during the week?” Sam finally stands and brushes off his knees, looking down at the camera hanging from his neck. 

“Get together,” he says, gesturing for all the kids to surround you for a photo. You crouch and put your arms around them, smiling brightly. He counts to three and takes the photo, quickly winding it again. 

“Fish faces!” he shouts from behind the lens, and all of the kids giggle excitedly, putting on their best fish lips. You suck in your cheeks and he takes a second one, smiling at you all once he lowers the camera. The children eventually start to scatter as you both say your goodbyes. 

“She’s skipping dinner. She’s gotta do all this again tomorrow,” Josh says, gesturing up at the stage animatedly.

“Oh yeah. You should go home and get some rest,” Sam says passively, not at all interested in trying to convince you to come. You glance at him with suspicion, not quite sure why he was so quick to let you off the hook. Josh looks to him as well, furrowing his brow at his strange behavior. “We should get going. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic.” You raise your eyebrows in surprise, nodding as Sam pockets his program and starts inching toward the door. Josh is watching between the two of you, now suspicious.

“Alright. Um, thanks for coming. I’ll see you guys around!” you say, already being pulled into another conversation with the crew cleaning up the stage. You offer a wave before they’re heading off, talking to each other while they ascend the auditorium ramp to the exits. You barely have a second to think about it before you’re off tying up loose ends after the show. 

-oOo-

Everything becomes clear when you approach your apartment to see Sam lounging across your stoop in the moonlight. He stands as you jog over to him, immediately pulling him in for a kiss. It’s only moments before you’re rushing to unlock the door and scurry into your apartment, all giggles and roaming hands. 

You realize he’s never been inside before, so you drop your belongings and pull him lazily by the hand to your bedroom. 

“I thought you were avoiding me,” you muse as you walk. He speeds up a few of his steps to catch you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling into your neck.

“By lying to my brother so I could get you all to myself?” he asks as you open the door to your bedroom. Once you’re inside, you turn to face him and kiss his lips you’ve thought about almost constantly for the last week.

“You’re sneaky,” you whisper against his lips with a giggle. The kiss quickly turns needy and sloppy, signaling Sam to walk you backwards towards your bed. Before you sit, he gently removes your shirt and bra, taking in every inch of you. You blush under his gaze, just now realizing this is the first time he’s seeing you- the last time he hadn’t bothered taking off your gown. 

A gasp leaves your lips when he latches onto your nipple almost immediately, his mouth warm and soft and so, so gentle. You weave your hands through his hair, back arching into his embrace. He lets out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“Sammy,” you sigh into him, feeling your cheeks heat and your thighs clench. 

He doesn’t respond, no need to ask what you want. You capture his face in your hands and pull him in for a slow, deep kiss. 

“Missed you,” you whisper, playing with his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “So much.” Your hands find the waistband of his shorts, fingers deftly sneaking underneath the elastic against the warm skin of his belly. Sam lets out a quiet groan, finally losing some of his composure. 

“Fuck,” he lets out under his breath before you fall back onto your bed, pulling him with you. He kneels to pull his shirt over his head, then descends upon you again, kissing your stomach as he unbuttons your black jeans. Once he peels them off of your legs along with your underwear, he’s kissing you again, his body nestled between your legs. Your body betrays you, your hips bucking and searching for friction against him as soon as he’s close to you, a broken moan falling from your lips.

He hums quietly, reassuring you as his middle finger slips into you with ease, testing the waters. He pulls it out slowly, and the next time he slips inside you there are two, Sam letting out a quick breath at the feeling. Your jaw drops as he curls his long, strong fingers forward, the sound he works out of you so raspy and desperate you’re almost embarrassed.

He’s breathing next to your ear, his cheek pressed to yours as you let out more pathetic moans, moving your hips against him, your body pleading for more. He hums as if he’s thinking, and you hum back, wordlessly asking what he’s up to.

“Want to taste you,” he breathes, his voice breaking. “Just for a second. Then I’ll fuck you. Promise.” He’s pushing up onto his knees, his fingers still inside you, and you can’t help but watch as his hair falls around his face. He pushes it out of the way with his unoccupied hand before moving down the bed and lowering his face to lick a broad stripe between your legs with his flattened tongue. He spoils you for a moment with his warm mouth unceasing, and you can’t help but watch. He looks up at you, his eyes determined, filled with mischief. 

You let your head fall back to the pillow, thinking about the difference between him and his brother, though you know you shouldn’t. It’s hard to forget the way Jake would look up at you- the glassy, fucked-out gaze he would give you, his lids heavy, eyes rolling back in his head as if he was drinking from the fountain of life. Sam looks up at you, deep brown eyes focused and affectionate, his only mission on this earth to please you. He blinks, his mind turning, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to make all the right moves and get you to cum at his hands. He squeezes them closed occasionally in concentration, burying himself deeper in you.

You can’t resist much longer, between the meticulous way he’s cataloged the way you like his tongue being used against you, and the ease in which he coaxes cries and obscenities from you with his fingers. He doesn’t ask you if you’re going to cum, he doesn’t tell you to cum, he doesn’t make you beg for it. He’s racing towards your orgasm with you, desperate to make you feel euphoric at only his touch without the answer key. You fall over the edge of your orgasm, squeezing around him, tugging gently at his hair as he slows his mouth and relaxes his fingers. 

When he once again stands to his knees above you, he’s smiling. He leans over you for just a moment, reaching to your nightstand to take your scrunchie from where it’s sitting next to the lamp.

“That was cool,” he says, putting his hands on his thighs. You can’t help but giggle at the boyish comment, catching your breath. Once he’s caught his own, he hops from the bed with impressive agility and abandons his shorts on your bedroom floor. Then he’s pulling you closer by the ankle before resting said ankle on his shoulder, his big hand wrapped around your thigh. 

“Wait. Aren’t you tired?” he asks, pausing, reaching to your face to rub the apple of your cheek affectionately. “When do you have to be up tomorrow?” His concern for your wellbeing is so endearing, but it’s not the time.

“Can you please fuck me before worrying about setting my alarm?” you quip with a smirk, wrapping your free leg around his calves, and needing him closer to you. He gives you a soft smile before turning his head to kiss your calf, nuzzling against it. 

“Just checking,” he says sweetly, positioning himself at your entrance. He slides in just barely, watching your face, making sure you have time to adjust. You can’t help but circle your hips, wanting more- wanting all he can give you. When he realizes you’re okay, he looks down to where your bodies are meeting, pulling out slightly before he thrusts back in slowly, this time a little deeper, and you barely catch it: he lets out a quiet huff of your name. You watch his plush lips fall open, his brow furrowed and upturned in the middle.

The only hairs left to hang in the way are the two strands that frame his face, not long enough to reach the bun in the back. You watch as they dangle, moving with him as he picks up a slow pace. 

“Sammy, please,” you beg, moving your hips to meet him. He shushes you in response, running his hand down your leg, still resting on his shoulder, and he grabs your hips. He buries himself into you deeper than you think you’ve ever felt anyone before, and the air is knocked from your lungs.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, his voice strained. He carries on at his torturous pace, kissing at your leg once more. “Just relax. You’ll get there.”

You trust him- how could you not? Instead of chasing after your orgasm, you let your head rest and look lazily up at him, realizing that yeah, maybe you are tired. But fuck, does he feel good. You’re not panting, not struggling to keep up, not on the verge of tears. You’re just enjoying as he pleases you, watching him take all of you in as he worships your body. 

Feeling you, being in tune with you, knowing you need more, he looks down the bridge of his nose atr you as he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, asking for entry. Your lips part, tongue darting out to swipe against the pad of his thumb. You mourn the loss as he slowly pulls it from your lips and drops his hand down to where your bodies are meeting. You blossom at his touch, staring up at him with wide, submissive eyes. You’re completely at his mercy despite his gentleness. He has you so close to cumming and isn’t anything but eager for you to do so. You shake the thought of Jake and the constant power-struggle between the two of you out of your head, refocusing on Sam. 

Before you can tell him, Sam lets your leg down and leans down closer to you, his extended range of motion sending him even deeper inside you. “You’re close,” he whispers, and you nod, mouth open, unable to form a complete sentence. 

“Mmm. Gonna cum with you,” he almost whines in your ear. You pull his face gently to yours, your tongue finding his and kissing him deeply. He reacts, his hips snapping so fiercely it brings you to your end, gasping before letting out the most desperate wail that’s ever left your lips. The buildup was well worth it, making you cum harder than you think you ever have. You orgasm for so long you feel him twitch inside you, chasing his own high within you. When you eventually relax, your legs loll to the side as you release him gently, but he stays, resting comfortably on your chest for a few minutes before he breaks the silence.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. I’m gonna give you an impossibly fast tour bus shower, then it’s straight to bed,” he says, smiling down at you.

You make your way into the bathroom with him, starting the water as he grabs towels for the both of you. You slide in and wet your hair before he enters the bathroom. He gently slides in and you make room for him, letting the water hit him over your shoulder. 

“Holy fuck, do you boil yourself like a shrimp every time you take a shower?” he asks, shying away from the stream. You double over with laughter, reaching for the knob to turn the temperature down. 

“Sorry, sorry!” you say through giggles as he jokingly shoots you a glare, faux fear of you in his expression.

“Jesus. Feels like I’m in the pits of fucking hell,” he laughs, and you swat gently at him. His hands find your hips as you scrub some shampoo into your hair and rinse, watching you contently. When it’s his turn, you can’t help but laugh at the way he faces the shower head and puts his entire head underneath it. His brashness compared to the way you and most women you know tilt their heads under the water was so incredibly Sam to you, all you could do was watch and smile and take a second to store the little uniqueness about him in the back of your mind.

When you’re all cleaned, dry, and cozy in your bed, you lay on your belly with your chin on his chest, looking at his sleepy face.

“What are we gonna do about Jake?” you ask, a sad tone to your voice. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and really have no idea how he’s going to react.”  Sam sighs at the heavy thought, rubbing your back gently. 

“Give him some time. I don’t think we have to tell him right away.” He kisses the top of your head before continuing. “Not that I want to keep you a secret,” he begins, but you shake your head gently, sleep beginning to take you.

“I know Sammy. It’s complicated. I’m sorry.”  You slowly drift off to sleep in his embrace.

-oOo-

You wake in the morning and rush to get ready, making it on time but just barely. It was hard to leave Sam in your bed; his tan figure spread across the mattress, the sheets artfully draped over him leaving his chest, hips, and one long leg exposed. It truly took all you had to walk out the door.

It’s a long morning as you prepare for the show, but the afternoon matinee comes and goes soon enough despite you yawning through it. You’re relieved when the lights come up and the applause begins. It’s a bittersweet feeling as you say goodbye to your kids and thank their parents, kneeling to take pictures with them in their costumes and accepting the flowers and handmade cards. You’re more than ready to enjoy what’s left of your summer, but there’s no doubt you’re going to miss these little fish.

You walk around backstage, making sure to gather all of the belongings left behind and lock the doors. As you’re walking through the wings, you hear one of the big metal doors to the auditorium open, and you already know it’s a relative that got the show time wrong. You jog out onto the stage to let them know they missed the performance, but when you look out into the auditorium, it’s not a grandparent. You see Jake standing in front of the door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He starts to walk down the ramp once he sees you.

“You missed it,” you say weakly from the center of the stage, confused as to why he’s here. “I thought you were out of town.” He walks down past the rows of seats, his chelsea boots tapping quietly against the berber carpet. 

“I changed my flight. I hoped to catch the end but… fate is cruel and apparently had other plans for me. Traffic was fucked.” He stands at the edge of the stage now, offering the bouquet up to you. “How was it?”

“Adorable and exhausting, but it was worth it.” You sit down on the edge of the stage and accept the flowers, looking at the arrangement wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, avoiding his eyes. “These are beautiful. Thank you. I’m glad you caught me, I was actually just about to head out.” 

You hop down from the stage and Jake reaches out to steady you. 

“You should come back to my place. You can take a nap and we’ll order takeout.” His voice is light and sweet, his disposition hopeful. You’re plagued with overwhelming guilt in this moment. His hand slides down your bicep and forearm, then he hooks his finger in the belt loop of your jeans. You sway as he tugs you closer, taking the flowers from your hand. You give him a playful side eye, knowing what he’s up to.

“I missed you,” he says, and you’re transported back to the very moment last night when you were whispering those exact words in his brother’s ear. Jake’s hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer, and your muscle memory takes over as you’re wrapped up in him, hands around his neck.

“Jake,” you say, looking into his eyes sadly. Before you can reject him, he leans in to kiss you- gently. 

“Don’t say no,” he says against your lips. You accept the soft, slow kiss, knowing you shouldn’t. 

“We can’t keep doing this.” You’re trying to stay strong. He’s so familiar, so warm, so Jake. He kisses you again and you’re feeling your defenses melt away.

“Why not?” he asks, barely a whisper. This time it’s you that reconnects your lips, unable to help how drawn you are to him, figuring you’re already in deep enough. 

“You can’t give me what I want.” Your voice is shaky as he kisses your neck, palming your ass and pulling you closer.

“I can give you what you want right now,” he says, his tone bold and flirtatious. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning all of your self control and bravery before you step back from him, gently pulling his hands off of you.

“I’m… I’m going to start seeing other people.” The silence is deafening as he stares at you, a slight frown forming on his face as he plays with his lips absentmindedly, like he always does. Your heart feels like it’s being torn in two. “I just… I know I’m going to keep getting sucked in and be stuck on you forever. It’s not fair.” The crack in your voice gives you away, communicating just a fraction of the anguish in your heart over this.

He sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. He rocks back on his heels, looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“You’re right. I know it’s not fair to ask you to wait for me.” You’re comforted only slightly when you realize he’s hurting too. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” 

Quiet falls between the two of you, neither sure of what to say next. You reach for the flowers on the stage and hold them close to you, gently picking at the leaves, arranging the smaller pieces to occupy your hands. 

“Walk me to my car?” He nods in agreement, stepping aside so you can go ahead of him. You grab your backpack and keys from a seat in the front row before he falls in line next to you, exiting the auditorium into the cool summer afternoon. You load your belongings into the trunk as he watches, leaning on his own car.

“I don’t want to stop hanging out with you guys,” you say, fiddling with your keys. “Don’t ghost me.” 

He smiles softly at that, nodding. “You’ll be getting e-vites from Josh for the rest of your life, don’t worry about that. He’s happy to have someone to sing showtunes with.” He pauses for a moment, his expression slightly sad.  “I think we’re all glad we met you.” He doesn’t understand how true the statement is, and you secretly hope he doesn’t for a while. 

“I’ll see you soon?” you ask, opening the door of your car. He starts to walk around to the other side of his own. 

“Actually, we’re playing a small show in LA in two weeks and we had our team set some tickets aside. If you still want to come. That’s where I was.” He explains while pulling his keys out of his pockets now, preparing to leave. He’s trying to be as casual as he can, but the underlying weirdness will take a while to dissipate. 

“I’ve never been. I think it sounds like a nice way to finish off my summer,” you say, smiling softly. “I’ll see you there.” 

@reesetrippingthelight@samstopochico@jordie-gvf-admin@jakesgrapejuice@spark-my-nature@gvfcinema@joshysgirl@hellowgoodbye@ageofwagner