#witchwyfe

Instead, he’s tip toeing around his bedroom, shoving things into his bag as slowly as he can.

You move in your sleep, sending Garrett’s heart hammering against his chest. He watches as you turn, settling onto his side of the bed. His breathing has slowed down by the time he slips into the bathroom.

He rushes through his morning routine as quickly as he can, moving carefully, even though the bathroom is down the hall and far enough away that you won’t—hopefully—hear any noise.

He slowly reenters his room, sliding the door open as slowly as he can manage when he spots you. You’re sitting up on his bed, sleep etched into your features as you roll your body over to the nightstand, reaching for your phone.

“Gar?” You murmur, letting your phone fall beside you in bed. “What’s wrong?” You’d fallen asleep early last night, right in the middle of Love Island, and he hadn’t gotten to tell you about the practice.

He’s at your side in a second, soothing you with a kiss at your hairline and a warm palm down your side.

“Nothin’s wrong baby,” He says softly, pressing another kiss to your head. “Saturday practice, Jensen said yesterday was a shit show.”

You nod in acknowledgement, groaning when he sits up. “Do you have to go now?” Your tone is stretched out, croaked with sleep as you whine.

“In a few minutes.”

“C’mere then.” You reach out your arms until he settles back down into his bed, smiling when you stretch your body halfway over his. His hand slips underneath the tee shirt you’re wearing—his—finding the warm skin underneath as he slides it up and down your back. Your leg hikes up, your pajama pants twisting as you hook your leg over his hip.

Your bliss is snatched up far too soon, Garrett patting your back as he tells you it’s time to leave.

“You gonna be here when I get back?” He wonders, pulling the blankets back up over you.

You nod sleepily, already reaching for his pillow.

“Good.” He leans down to kiss you once more. “I’ll make you breakfast when you get up.”

You greet him happily, leaning in to his touch. "Did you get my drink?" You wonder, suddenly remembering why he left you in the first place.

"Hmm, sure did." He nods, handing you an ice water rather than the vodka redbull you'd requested.

You don't seem to notice though, slipping the paper straw into your mouth and slurping it down happily.

"We gonna dance s'more?" You wonder, straw between your lips.

"We can't, baby," He says, smoothing a hand down the back of your head. "They're closing."

"Nooo!" You groan, throwing your head back.

"I know, I know," He soothes. "But we can go home and get some snacks and watch a show...?" He offers.

"Okay!" You're smiling once again, digging your fingers into his tee shirt.

"Finish your drink and we'll go home, kay?" 

You nod, bypassing the straw and tipping the rest of the water into your mouth, before handing your empty glass to Rafe.

You're not even that drunk, really just a little past tipsy but you're fine with letting Rafe handle everything and take care of you.

Suddenly his jacket is being draped over your shoulders, coupled with a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

"Thank you." You simper. You slide your arms into the sleeves and blink up at your boyfriend.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

You lead him out of the bar, arms shoved into the pockets of his jacket, while he has your little purse slung over his shoulder, your phone, his phone, and the keys all in one hand.

"How much farther?" You ask a few moments later, looking back at him.

"Not too much," He frowns looking out at the street. When the two of you arrived at the club, hours before, he'd had to park his car somewhat far due to the lack of space. "Your feet hurting, baby?"

You shrug a shoulder. "Yeah." You nod. "But it's just till the car then I'll take my shoes off."

"C'mere," He says, shoving both of your phones into his pocket.

"What?" You wonder, turning to give him a coy smile.

Your sweet boyfriend kneels down on the dirty sidewalk, taking your ankle into his hands so he can unbuckle your heel. You're flustered beyond words, heat rising on your cheeks while Rafe's rough palm softly works your foot out of your strappy shoe. 

"Stand on my foot babe, so I can take your other shoe off." He says, running his hand up your calf. 

Once both of your heels are dangling from his hand, he scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

"Are you sure, Rafe?" You wonder softly. "I feel bad, you don't--"

"You have nothing to feel bad about." He assures, lips at your temple. "Just let me take you to the car, okay gorgeous?"

"Okay." You hum happily, relaxing in his hold.

Your arms are sling around your neck and you have easy access to his neck if you strain a little--and you do--at least five times on the way to the car, so you can kiss his neck.

He pretends like he's not flustered by it, but you can see the rosy glow of his cheeks from the street lamps, the soft light making him appear ethereal and you have to shut your eyes for a second to remember he's real.

You’re still in a fond trance when he uses one hand to open the car door and gently deposit you into the passenger seat. He buckles your seatbelt and tugs on it, before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Love you,” You croon, leaning back against the seat to look at him. 

“Love you so much more.” He promises. “C’mere angel, gimme a kiss.”

"Please angel, we'll only do 9 holes and then buy you lunch after." Topper, ever the mediator, offers.

"You were gonna buy me lunch anyway."

Rafe rolls his eyes and you snicker, leaning back in the lounge chair you're resting in.

"I just don't understand why this how y'all want to spend your time. Kelce's internship and Rafe's study abroad start in one month, we're wasting our one month of summer by fucking hitting balls on grass."

You're met with three glares and simultaneous responses.

"Okay, you can't say 'we' if you haven't even been going."

"There is way more technique than just hitting balls."

"Hey!"

"And what would you suggest we do then, mamas?" Kelce asks, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. 

Your face warms at being put on the spot, three gazes stuck patiently on you.

"I don't know, shopping on the mainland, movie nights, brunch at the island club--"

"You can have island club drinks on the golf cart!" Rafe exclaims, throwing his arms up before slapping them at his sides. "And we'll get brunch afterwards."

You sigh dramatically. "9 holes? Not 18?"

Rafe smiles, knowing they've already won. "Of course."

Topper picks you up bright and early the next morning, Rafe and Kelce already packed into the backseat with one set of clubs, the other two in the trunk.

"Morning boys." You smile sarcastically, climbing into the front passenger seat.

"Good morning mamas." Kelce smiles. "Thank you for coming."

"Hm, y'all better make it worth my while." You joke.

"Getting to spend time with your best friends isn't worth it?" Rafe asks, feigning offense.

"Shut up," You groan. "You guys know I love you. Even when you make me golf."

They all made a big deal about your new Lululemon golf dress, and promise to take cute pictures of you in the golf cart, all by the time you pull up to the country club.

You juggle your sunglasses, phone, and water bottle once Rafe opens the door for you.

"Thank you Rafe," You smile, reaching up to pinch his cheeks. "You're such a gentleman."

You wait with Kelce while the other two go to get the cart. You let their clubs stay propped up against your legs so that don't fall to the ground.

Topper takes the purple Stanley--that he got you for Christmas--from your hands and sets it into the cup holder. You help them load up their clubs then you're making yourself comfortable in the front again.

"Do they sell cocktails at the beverage carts?" You wonder. "Or should I grab one now before we go?"

"Think they only sell beer, babe." Kelce frowns. "And they don't allow open cups on the course."

You groan, leaning your head back. Rafe digs around in his golf bag, brandishing a small bottle of champagne.

"Don't worry bestie girl, we didn't forget about you." He smiles, shoving the bottle back inside. "Gonna get you some orange juice from the bev cart and you can make a mimosa."

"Rafe!" You cry, throwing your arms around him. "You're the best!"

"I know, I know," He smirks. "Aren't you glad you came with us, now?"

"I guess," You grumble, playfully rolling your eyes.

You sit comfortably in the golf cart, while your friends play, sipping on the mimosa Rafe mixed you, scrolling on social media, and occasionally reminding the boys to reapply their sunscreen.

Kelce even dragged you out to take a swing and they all cheered you on when you failed miserably, taking a sloppy bow before skipping back to the golf cart.

Once you’re back at the club, seated at your favorite table, you’re lightly clasping your mimosa glass in your hand—this one prepared by your waiter and not Rafe with his Blender bottle.

“I think it tasted better when you made it, Rafe.” You frown, taking another sip anyway.

“'Course it did.” He grins smugly. 

You pull a lip gloss from the handy pocket in your golf outfit, coating a thick layer over your lips. You take your napkin and work it over the rim of your glass too, even though you'll get more gloss stuck to it on your next sip.

"You're just one of the boys, aren't you?" Topper teases, just to mess with you.

You cap your gloss and set it on the table, narrowing your eyes into a glare at Topper. "No, I am not."

 "Yeah, she's like our bratty little sister." Rafe pipes up, reaching over the table to steal a handful of your fries. 

"Yeah, I'm the bratty one." You smack Rafe's hand, grinning when he whines. "And I'm literally older than you, Rafe."

"By like two months!" He argues.

"Okay and?" You retort. "Still older."

He makes a point by stealing more of your fries.

"Brat. You know you're the one paying for those, right?"

The other boys love when you tag along to parties, because it means they get to see the softer side of Ice that he doesn’t usually show to them. It’s even better when you’re drunk, because he’s extra lovey to you, and the guys eat it up.

You’re sprawled out on Ice’s lap while he lounges on the couch. Much to his dismay, there was a frat party so that is where he’s spending his Friday night, rather than relaxing with you. 

His hand moves up and down your bare leg soothingly, distracting himself until you’re ready to leave. Your skin is warm under his palm, and he revels in the way you’ve gone limp in his lap, fully comfortable with—on—him. You’ve had about one seltzer too many, and Ice makes a mental note to grab you a bottle of water when you let him up. 

Your finger traces his jawline up-and-down until you get bored with that and shift in his lap. “Icey,” You whisper, leaning forward like you’re going to share a secret. 

He doesn’t even get a chance to answer before you’re placing your palms on either side of his face, squishing his cheeks, and forcing his lips to pucker. You press a sloppy kiss to his mouth, before releasing his face.

“What did you need, baby?” He hums, a fond expression taking over his features.

“Nothin’.” You mumble, suddenly shy. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

He laughs, warm and deep, running his hand over your back again. “Yeah?” He wonders. “You wanna do it again?”

You nod eagerly, falling even more into him when he presents his lips. They’re warm and gentle against your own, and you giggle into his mouth, hands curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’re so pretty,” You whisper when you pull away. 

“I have to tell you something.” He says, mirroring your tone. “You’re even prettier.”

A delighted shriek leaves your lips and you squish him in a hug again. 

One seltzer too many, turned into too many drinks entirely, in just a couple of short hours. You’d gone to the bathroom with one of your friends and came back drunker than you had been before, with a wasted Goose in tow, giggling at something you were whispering in his ear.

“Alright, I think you’ve both had enough.” Ice states, standing up briskly, and deftly slipping an arm around your side. 

“You mean we’re leaving?” Goose whines, resting his head on Ice’s shoulder.

“Afraid so, bud.” Ice nods. He pulls his phone out to text his team—double checking that no one else needs a ride home—before corralling you and Goose to his car. 

In anticipation of this happening, he’d parked as close to the run-down fraternity house as possible.

Ice man-handles Goose into the backseat so that he can focus fully on you. He’s bent at the waist, leaning over you to slide the seatbelt across your body. Once it’s clicked into place, he presses his lips to your temple, lingering for longer, before making his way to the driver’s seat.

He listens to you ramble on about a plethora of things, a fond smile on his face as he holds one of your hands in his. 

When he pulls up to the house he shares with the other members of his soccer team, Mav is standing, propped up against the side of the house, smoking a drunk cigarette. Ice has no idea how Mav beat him home, considering he was in the middle of a keg stand when Ice left with you and Goose. 

“Mav!” Goose is suddenly yelling, half of his body hanging outside the window that Ice didn’t even hear him open. 

“Jesus, Goose, get back in the car!” Ice calls, using the driver door access to close the back window when Goose heaves his body back inside the car. 

It’s a long journey from the car to the front door, especially with you leaning more than half of your body weight on your boyfriend, while Goose is tugging him by the hand, eager to get inside and eat a snack. 

Slider is inside—and sober—and Ice breathes a sigh of relief. He would’ve liked to have been the one to stay home, but right now he’s just happy Slider can help take care of Goose and Mav, and he can worry about getting you up to bed.

“Long night?” Slider jokes, wrapping his hand around Goose’s bicep so he can lead him into the kitchen. 

“C’mon Goosey, I’ve got pizza rolls for you and Mav.”

“Thanks Sli.” Ice smiles, nodding at his friend before focusing fully on you. Usually Ice loves his bedroom—the only one on the third floor of the old house—but right now he’s wishing it wasn’t so that it wouldn’t be as far for you to walk. You’ve got your arms wrapped around his torso now, head pressed into his chest.

“M’tired, Icey.” You whine. “Can we take an elevator?”

He chuckles into the top of your head. “We don’t have one, honey.” He shoves his phone into his back pocket, slings your purse into the bend of his arm, before crouching in front of you.

“Hop on, baby.”

“Really!?” You coo, with much more energy than you currently possess.

“Really.” He’s smiling but you can’t see it, and you clamber onto his back with a huff.

“Got it!” You cheer, nestling your cheek against his shoulder. He’s steady through two flights of stairs, not even quivering when he gently deposits you on his bed. 

“You’re so strong,” You coo happily. “Thank you for carrying me, Icey.”

“You don’t have to thank me honey,” He smiles, full and sincere. “Always gonna take care of you.”

You giggle, reaching up to lock your arms around his neck. You grin grows impossibly big when he plasters kisses to the top of your head.

“C’mon sweet girl, let’s get you ready for bed.”

He's on his laptop at the island, a textbook and notebook spread out in front of him.

"How was study group?" 

"Long." You sigh again, flopping down on the chair next to him. 

He frowns sympathetically, pushing a bowl of popcorn over to you. "You want some?"

"Sure, thanks Jake." You smile before grabbing a handful. You sit with him for a while, chin propped in your hand, before your eyes start fluttering closed.

"Shit," Jake hisses, palm coming out to stop your forehead from hitting the marble counter.

"Sorry was just resting m'eyes." You mumble groggily. You're about to crash again when Jake holds out both hands.

"You're so tired baby," He coos affectionately. The term of endearment falling from his lips with ease. It's not one he's ever used before not platonic enough in his opinion, but you don't seem to notice, too tired to notice much of anything.

"I was gonna take a nap anyway." He says with an earnest grin. "You wanna join?"

"Hm-mm." You hum. 

He leads you to his room, not that you haven't been in there countless times. 

He sheds his hoodie so he's in a t-shirt and shorts now, and he sets his blue-light glasses onto his nightstand.

"C'mere." He coaxes, somewhat nervous now.

You flop into his bed, nuzzled in half against his side and half on top of him.

"M'so tired." You whine sleepily.

"I know." Jake soothes, running a hand down your back. "Go to sleep, it's okay."

You nod, practically smushing your face into his chest.

His heartbeat quickly lulls you to sleep, soft exhales leaving you. Jake sighs and lightly runs his hand down the back of your head.

Once he calms down and feels less flustered, he's also able to drift off into a comfortable sleep.