witchwyfe's library

"Seriously, you could probably charge a touron like 20 bucks for that."

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving at him. He traps your hand against his chest, interlaces your fingers with his, and then brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

When he's done, he doesn't let go of your hand, it swings with his as you continue on the beach.

It's a chilly morning, cloudy and early before the vacationers crowd up the beach. You don't mind, it's just easier to find shells on an empty beach.

Rafe takes a sip of the iced coffee that you're sharing before holding it up to your mouth.

"Good, sweetheart?"

You nod, licking the drink off your lips. He's gotten so used to your coffee that he orders it for himself now.

Rafe let's go of your hand for a second, rushing a few steps ahead to grab something, fingertips digging into the sand.

"Look!" He comes back to you, beaming. "Look how pretty it is."

He holds out a white, creamy shell, the underside almost an iridescent pink.

"Wow Rafe," You smile, running your finger over the bumpy surface. "It's so beautiful."

"Just like you."

"Stop."

"M'serious." He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Maybe Wheez can make it into a necklace for you. She's been crafting a lot lately."

You smile again. "That's a good idea."

You walk farther along the beach, the only sound the waves crashing a shore and the wind whipping through the air.

You find a couple more shells when you look down, a sand-crusted black shell, and a caramel colored one. You go to pocket them when Rafe sticks his hand out, large palm facing up.

“Here, I got ‘em.” You drop the shells, looking even smaller in his hold.

“I can carry the shells Rafe, I have pockets.” You point out, tugging on the pocket of your denim shorts.

“So do I.” He grins, smug and handsome, shoving the shells to join the other ones in his pocket.

You stare out at the water for a few moments, long enough that Rafe has appeared at your side again and took your hand in his.

“You know that little jewelry box you have for your rings?”

“Mm-hm.” He nods.

“Can I cover it in shells?”

“Sure baby,” He squeezes your hand. “You can do whatever you want.”

“I think it’ll look super cute.” You tell him, starting to walk along the shore again. “Sarah did it with a hairbrush and it was so pretty.”

“Just what I want, for all my stuff to be super cute and pretty.” He teases, but can’t fight the earnest smile on his face.

You scoff. “Whatever you love it.”

He nods.

“We’re gonna need more shells.”

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

“Maybe that’s not the best idea.” Jake says gently. “I’ll call the landlord.”

“Okay.” You nod. “You want some tea?”

“Sure.” He watches you shiver, and you sigh.

“Am I imagining it, or does it already feel colder in here?”

“Here, lemme get you a sweatshirt.” Jake says, darting off to his room and choosing to ignore the fact that you have plenty of sweatshirts in your own closet.

You slide on your smiley-face slippers and make your way out into the kitchen, pulling the kettle and two mugs out. Jake comes in with a flashlight and one of your favorite hoodies of his—not that you’ve ever told him.

“Here,” He hands it to you awkwardly, thankful that the lights are out and you can’t see how pink his face is.

“Thanks Jake.” You smile, accepting the sweatshirt and sliding it over your head, reveling in the warmth it brings you. You let your face linger in the fabric, flooding your senses with Jake.

After your tea has been made and candles have been lit, you’re settled into the couch, sitting closer to Jake than you usually do. Luckily his iPad was fully charged and now you’re watching a random movie on it. With each minute that passes, your eyelids feel heavier. You’d pulled your duvet from your bed and wrapped it around you and Jake, and it’s like he senses that you’re growing tired, because he moves closer, so that your head can rest on your shoulder.

“You gettin’ tired sweetheart?” He murmurs softly, warm breath hitting the side of your face. You nod, nuzzling farther into him. His heart rate has picked up by a tenfold and he hopes you’re too tired to notice. His hand slides up and down your side, the slight contact even through your—his—hoodie making you feel warm and fuzzy, almost like you’re floating.

Pretty soon you’re out cold and Jake isn’t far behind you. He moves his iPad to the coffee table and settles in, reveling in the way you seem to melt into him, in your sleep. Your breath passes softly through parted lips. Your eyelashes flutter minutely with each exhale. Jake feels lucky that you’re so comfortable with him—on—him.

Jake continues watching—less than half paying attention—until he feels his arm go numb. He lets it stay that way for a while until he worries about how your current position will affect you, he doesn’t want you to hurt your neck. Mentally he runs over his options. He would just carry you to his bed and get in with you, but he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Maybe he can move the couch cushions so there’s more room. Or maybe he can—

“Jake?”

“Hey, hey darlin’,” He murmurs softly. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Can we go to bed?”

We? His heart flutters.

“Sure, can darlin’, you need help getting to your room?”

You scowl, features crinkling up in a way that makes Jake want to laugh. “Can we go to your room?”

Jake swallows roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “You want to?”

You nod sleepily. “S’too cold to sleep alone.”

Jake lets you unwrap yourself from the blankets and shuffle to his room, his warm hand at your lower back, just in case.

He pulls back his dark green duvet, letting you get tucked under the sheet before he straightens the rest of the covers on top of you. Sliding in next to you, his heartbeat quickens. He’s a respectable distance away, when you curl into him, arm slinging over his torso, like there’s a magnet on your bodies keeping you from being too far apart.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake's been preparing for your arrival all night. Your pajamas are folded nicely on your side of the bed, water bottle full of ice and water, and a bottle of Aspirin sitting on your nightstand.

He likes doing things to take care of you, but he also misses you. Ever since the two of you moved in together, the long days at work feel ever longer, and the nights you don't spend together last an eternity.

When the car stops, you're pushing at your seatbelt and yanking at the door handle before anyone can get out to help you.

"I'm fine!" You whine, when you feel a hand around your waist.

"Hush." Natasha laughs, dragging you up the lawn. "Let's get you safely inside so you can see lover boy."

You cheer, speeding up the last few steps to the door, almost causing Natasha to trip.

"Easy tiger," She chuckles. The second the door opens, you're flinging your body through the threshold and onto Jake.

"Jake!" You coo against his neck. One hand gently rests against the back of your head, the other one on your lower back, pulling you closer.

"Hi baby doll," He presses a kiss to your forehead. You're squirming in his grasp, trying to get closer.

He meets Natasha's eye over your shoulder, giving her a knowing look.

"Thanks Tash." He smiles. "I'll see you on Monday."

Once she leaves, Jake locks the door before gathering you into his arms. 

"C'mere baby, you wanna go upstairs?" 

"You nod against his neck."

"I've got your stuff upstairs and some snacks too."

"Thank you, Jakey."

He sits you down carefully on the bed before crouching down to take off your shoes.

When he sits up, you're on him again, arms slung around his neck.

"Thank you, thank you." You coo, peppering his face and neck with kisses.

"You're so cute!" You whine, smacking your lips to his cheekbone. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, baby." He smiles, seemingly unaware to all the lipstick you're stamping onto his skin.

In typical hangover fashion, you awake to a pounding head and uneasy stomach.

You're groaning loudly, loud enough to wake Jake if he wasn't already up. He'd already gotten up, showered, and went out to your favorite coffee shop to grab drinks.

"How ya feelin' champ?" You can hear the amusement in his voice and you frown.

"Not good."

He chuckles. “Yeah I figured.” He sets your coffee and a brown paper bag on your nightstand, right behind the bottle of pain-killers. 

“Thank you.” You say pathetically. 

“You’re cute when you’re drunk, ya know that?” He wonders, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “And when you’re hungover…and sober.”

“Stop!” You whine. “You’re not allowed to be this cute when I feel like shit.”

“Sorry darlin'.”

You crack an eye open to look at him, before making grabby hands at him. He carefully slides on top of you, the pressure of his body warm and comforting on yours.

You’re fussing with his face and hair, when you notice a smear of red lipstick on his neck. 

“What’s that?” You wonder, thumbing at the stain.

His face blooms almost as red as the shade swatched on his neck. “Shoot, I must’ve missed a spot.”

“From what?”

“Why don’t you get your phone, sweet girl?” He runs a hand over the back of your head. 

Brows furrowing, you open your phone, clicking on your most recently used app. 

A plethora of selfies fills your screen, your lips pouted, face squished against Jake’s, who has red lipstick marks all over his skin.

“Whoops.”

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.

Something like this being, for your autumn break trip to a cabin, sleeping arrangements are all girls together, and all boys together. Despite the fact, that the trip is made up of some of the soccer team, and their girlfriends. Mav even thought it would be funny to have whoever caves first, buy everyone dinner on the last night.

You sigh loudly, ignoring Carole’s chuckle from the driver’s seat. Her and Goose finally got their shit together, and they’ve been happily dating since summer. 

“And of course you won’t crack, because you love to win.” You whine pitifully, more to yourself than your boyfriend. “I’ll see you when we get there.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your purse, leaning your head against the window, watching a flurry of orange as you pass a multitude of trees.

Not much more time passes before you’re pulling up at the cabin, clearly the last ones there, if the amount of cars shoved into the dirt driveway, is anything to go by.

Ice, Goose, and Slider are quick to come out and help with the bags in the back of Carole’s trunk.

“Hiya honey,” Goose greets, before dipping Carole in a dramatic kiss. You turn to see Ice, and pout, before falling into his arms.

“Hey baby,” He murmurs, pressing a kiss at your hairline. 

“Icey,” You whine. “Missed you.”

“Pretty girl.” He coos. “I missed you too.”

Following a week of mid-terms, you’d barely gotten to see your boyfriend. Both of you had stacked schedules with exams and papers, and Ice had a big game right before break began. You were looking forward to a long weekend with him, snuggled into his arms while you sleep, the way you hadn’t been able to. 

His arms squeeze easily around your waist, and he lifts you a bit until you can’t help but smile. You fist your hands in the material of his sweatshirt. 

“Was lookin’ forward to sleeping with you this weekend.” You tell him quietly. “I didn’t sleep well last week.”

“I know, me too.” He says, lips at your temple. “I’m sorry angel.”

“Not your fault your friends are stupid.”

He chuckles, squeezing you one more time before setting you down. He grabs your duffel bag and purse, waiting for you to shut your car door, before heading inside.

“Carole and I are sharing a room, I think,” You frown. “That’s what Marcy said in the group chat.” Marcy, Slider’s girlfriend, was also very upset about the sleeping arrangements, had coordinated which room everyone is staying in. Your boyfriend nods and continues in, before stopping at a room and gently setting your bags down.

You notice two beds, neither much bigger than a twin, but still an upgrade from the college dorm bed Ice had snuck in, to share with you countless times the previous year. 

“Look baby,” You whine. “We could totally fit in here, you always cuddle up anyway.”

“I know, sweet girl,” He soothes with a kiss to your temple. 

Carole comes in a second later, Goose rolling her suitcase while she spouts similar complaints that you had.

“Just because Mav isn’t getting any, doesn’t mean he has to ruin it for the rest of us.” She huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. Goose barely bites back his snort, throwing his head back in laughter before Carole sticks a withering glare on him. 

You nod in agreement, turning towards her. “That’s what I was just telling him, I mean why did anyone invite him anyway? He’s fucking annoying.”

“Okay,” Ice warns softly. “Not that I don’t currently share the sentiment, but Mav’s room is right down the hall and I’m sure he can hear us.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, leaning into him. “Are we allowed to sit together on the couch at least?”

You packed everything you need for your night time routine and to sleep. Your face is washed, teeth are brushed, and now you’re scrolling on your phone, trying to chill before bed. Carole had long snuck out of your room and into Goose’s—you wish your boyfriend didn’t take everything so seriously. Goose laughed in Mav’s face when he proposed the competition—so it’s too quiet and you don’t have anyone to talk to. Right in the middle of your scroll through Tik Tok, your phone buzzes with a text.

I miss u

You smile, imagining your boyfriend curled up in his bed, missing you enough to send you text. 

Come in

You respond.

Carole left. We can push the beds together :) 

He sends back:

We don’t need that much room.

Less than a minute later, your door is being pushed open and your boyfriend, clad in boxers and an old crewneck is suddenly sliding in behind you, arms circling your waist. 

“Missed you.” He mumbles into your neck, the tip of his nose cold against the skin. 

“You’re not allowed to agree to any of Mav’s dumb bets, ever again.” You grumble. “Last time you had to bleach your hair and now this.”

“I know baby,” He coos. “No more, I promise.”

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 harsh 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.”

And even though she doesn’t show it, Natasha knows exactly what you’re going to say. She could be upset, as your best friend, that you never told her about your feelings for Jake, but she knows that its hard and that you’ve also been trying to lie to yourself about said feelings.

“Jake.” You whisper. “He’s not Jake.”

“Oh, honey.” She simpers, pulling you into her arms. “I know.”

“You know?” 

She nods, patting your back. “Just like I know that he feels the same way.”

You scoff, a thick watery sound. 

“I’m serious. It’s obvious.”

Hours later, you’re coming back to your apartment. You’d considered staying at Natasha’s but would rather go home to your own place. Jake’s sitting on the couch when you walk in, sporting a frown that you’re not used to seeing. 

“Where were you?” He asks, southern accent sneaking into his words a little more than usual. It seems to do that when there’s more emotion in his words, but you don’t even stop to think about that right now. 

You’re in a foul mood already, a combination of crying, and trying to find a reason to tell this other guy that you won’t be seeing him again. Jake’s irritated expression just adds to it already and you find yourself rolling your eyes.

“Don’t see why it’s any of your business.” You scoff, sliding your shoes off and leaving them in the foyer just to piss him off. You know you aren’t being fair, but neither is he. 

“I just think it’s considerate to let your roommate know when you’ll be back.” He laughs humorlessly. “Forgive me for caring about your safety.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t tell you where I was. Didn’t know I had to, Dad.”

“Oh my god is it that hard to believe that someone cares about you?” He growls. “You don’t have to act like such a brat.”

“I’m not being a brat; you’re being a dick.” You spit. “I don’t have to tell you when I’ll be back. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I—,” He cuts himself off to sigh. “I know that.”  He adds in a much softer tone. “I just hadn’t seen you all day and I missed you.”

Your heartbeat picks up by a tenfold. “Well, you’re not my boyfriend Jake. Sometimes people don’t see each other all day, deal with it.”

“I know that. I just—” 

“And I don’t care if you missed me. That gives you no right to be rude to me.”

“I know! Jeez darlin’, I’m trying to apologize. His southern twang slips through a little more, once again. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and it wasn’t fair of me. 

“You’re right it wasn’t fair.” You retort. “And don’t call me that.” You scoff, and with a sharp turn of your heel, you head for your bedroom, before he can see the fresh tears leaking down your face.

Jake watches you walk to your room, firmly shutting your door behind you. He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. He feels like an asshole. He knows he has no right to question you about your whereabouts. Yes, the two of you consider each other a close friend, but you didn’t deserve his frustration. He hates to admit it to himself, but the thought of you on another date, especially one that evidently went so late, had him fuming, and an envy induced pit in his stomach. 

He hates seeing you upset, and you didn’t look happy when you walked in—before he spoke to you—so maybe your date didn’t go well. He selfishly hopes that it didn’t, but also the thought makes him sad for you. Roommates fight. Friends fight. Both of those are true, but that’s not what’s going on. Jake doesn’t give a shit how late you come back to the apartment. He does want you to be safe but the real thing that bothered him was that you were out on a date.

Both of you sleep terribly all night, but neither of you seeks out the other like you normally would. 

You have a minute. One beautiful, peaceful moment before everything from the night before comes crashing back into your memory. You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes and groan loudly. 

You blindly reach for your phone, bringing it to your face with a wince. It’s barely eight am and you hadn’t slept well—tossing and turning all night. 

A click of the power button on your phone tells you that you have two new messages—neither from Jake. 

One is from Natasha checking in, and the other from Brent, just affirming what you talked about last night—that you’re definitely better off as friends. 

You leave both not responded to for now and push yourself out of bed. A quiet travel into the kitchen informs you that your roommate is out, his keys missing from the hook by the door. 

You padder over to the coffee machine, and start brewing a pot, before pulling out a glass and a mug. Despite having forced him to try it with ice many, many times, Jake still prefers it hot and in a mug. 

You’re just swirling milk into his coffee when the front door swings open, Jake balancing a pink bakery box as well as his keys and phone.

“Hey.” You say quietly, busying yourself with pulling out a straw for your drink.

“Hi.”

After an awkward moment passes, you both speak at once.

“I don’t like when we fight.”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

You smile despite yourself. “You go first.”

“I don’t like when we fight either.” He responds to your statement first, looking you in the eye. “And I know I was being unfair last night. I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess I’m just so used to us spending time together that it felt weird to not see you all day. I’m sorry for how I behaved.”

“Thank you.” You say genuinely. “I was overacting too. I was in a bad mood, and I should’ve just asked for space rather than getting short with you. Thank you for caring about me.”

“Of course.” He whispers.

“Are we okay now?” You wonder timidly. 

“Course we are darlin’.” He grins. “You want a donut?”

You nod. “Can I have a hug too.”

“Yeah, you can.”

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

"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 promised 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 justice 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?"

Instead of your usual chatter and occasional banter, Rafe is glued to his phone, a frown etched onto his lips. You glance over once, at a red light, but he doesn’t appear to notice. 

“So,” You start, somewhat awkwardly. “How was your day?”

Rafe clicks his phone off, looking up as he clears his throat, the sound husky as it reverberates throughout the car. “My day?” He coughs, red rising on his cheeks. Your foot pushes against the gas pedal so you don’t notice the blushing boy beside you. “Was okay. Worked with my dad.”

You grimace on instinct, wrinkling your nose in a way, Rafe doesn’t want to admit, is cute. “Was he nice to you?”

He laughs half-heartedly. “He was okay. Just the usual.” You frown again and lean over to pat his shoulder, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge in your arm as you bend it back.

“S’fine.” He shakes his head. “Seriously, nothing I can’t handle.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.” You murmur, more to yourself than him, but he catches it anyway.

“Well, enough about me.” He pauses to shift in his seat, swallowing down the hesitation that engulfs him. It’s such a simple question—one you’d already asked him—but he can’t help but feel how domestic it is, how sweet that you care enough to ask, to ask and mean it, rather than throwing out a meaningless sentiment. “How was your day?” He croaks out, covering it up with a cough that does nothing to stop more heat from rising on his cheeks. 

“Pretty good.” You smile. “Better now. I get so lonely during the summer, I should’ve gotten a job or something. I did go shopping though, on the mainland, had to get up early.” You frown. “Sorry for talking your ear off.

“You’re not!” He expresses immediately. “I like hearing what you have to say.” He could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored, you could say the same sentence a hundred times and he wouldn’t mind, he’s sure your sweet timbre would make it more than bearable.

“Oh,” It’s like the heat has spread from his cheeks to your own. “Thanks Rafe.” 

“D’you find a new duvet?” He inquires. “I know you said you wanted a new one before you go back to school.”

“Yeah, I-I, did.” You smile, swallowing over the stutter in your words. “Didn’t realized you remembered.”

“I do actually listen when you talk, ya know?” He teases.

“Could’ve fooled me.” You retort, giggling when he gasps in mock offense.

“Oh right, because you totally listen to everything I tell you.” He argues, playful sarcasm tinting his words.

“Shut up, I do!” You’re laughing again when you pull into the beach parking lot and see Rafe’s pout and crossed arms.

“Oh yeah?” He challenges. “What game was I telling you about yesterday?” He taunts.

You’re silent for a few seconds before he’s shaking his head in disappointment. “See, I knew it!”

“S’not my fault Rafael!” You shriek in attempt to defend yourself. “Baseball’s so boring, I was listening but I forgot.”

“Oh, you forgot?” He eggs you one. “Nice try, sweet girl.” 

He processes the nickname two seconds after it fell easily from his lips. You don’t seem to notice so he doesn’t make a deal about it. Seem is the key word, because you didn’t think it was physically possible to want someone so badly, a simple term of endearment sending you into a frenzy. It’s different than the princess, he’d always called you, even now that you’re friends. This wasn’t a tease or a nickname you give to bother someone, it’s sincere and real. 

“Okay whatever,” You sigh, reaching into the backseat for the lunchbox and the large beach blanket. “I promise, next time you talk baseball, I’ll take notes so I don’t forget.”

“Gonna get you into baseball someday!” He sing-songs, sidling up to you as soon as you’re both out of the car. “Want me to hold on to your stuff?” He wonders softly, noticing your lack of tote bag.

“Hm, yes please.” You murmur, handing him your wallet and keys. “Thank you.”

The beach as is crowded as you expected, late evening in early August, still hot but cooled just a bit for the incoming sunset. Rafe helps you lay out the blanket before settling right beside you on it. 

You pull out two cans of Diet Coke and Rafe’s eyes light up. Surprisingly, you and him also shared an obsession for the soda. He cracks a can for you, then one for himself. You take a generous sip, the crisp carbonation sliding down your throat, deliciously. 

As the sky melts into orange and pink sherbert, snacks and diet cokes demolished, you and Rafe sit silently, shoulder to shoulder, his body heat radiating against your skin, even through his t-shirt and your crewneck. 

You sit, gathering your nerve, wanting, needing to say something, anything.

“Hey Rafe?” You wonder softly, clearing your throat. 

“Hmm?”

“Is it gonna be different?” You’re spitting words out before you can even think of what you mean but you keep going. “Like, since we’re friends now like, are we—“ You cut yourself off with a sigh. “I guess what I mean to say is, will it still be like this when I go back to school?”

“Like, us hanging out? And talking?” He wonders slowly and you nod.

“I just, I’ve had a really good summer with you and I don’t want it to end just because I’m leaving.”

He nods knowingly. “It doesn’t have to.” He assures. “I’ve had a great summer too, and you know, UNC isn’t that far, we can hang out whenever we want.”

You nod. “Cool.”

He nods again and the silence returns, this time charged with something different, unfamiliar, something that’s been building the entire summer, finally enough that you can feel it.

“And one more thing,” You start, building your nerve. When he turns to you, you set your hands on his shoulders and press your lips to his, just once, soft, and delicate.

“Fuck,” You hiss, eyes widening as you search his expression. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed, we can just act like it never happened and—“

There’s a magnetic pull between your lips and his, a sigh of relief leaving you when his mouth finally covers yours. Your fingers scramble for purchase on the collar of his crewneck, before dancing up to thread through the hair at his nape. His hands are on fire at your sides, skimming underneath your sweatshirt, rough palms meeting smooth, soft skin. 

“That was more than okay, sweetheart.” He grins crookedly when you pull back, lips wet and swollen. “Long time coming I think.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, curling into his side. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

“I’m gonna visit you.” He promises with a kiss. “As much as you want. You’re going to be sick of me.”

“Not possible.” You shake your head. “I think I had enough of that the last ten years of my life. I want to get as much of you as I can.”

“You have me sweetheart, all of me.”

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.”

Mickey thought it would be fun to go to club, rather than the usual hangout at the Hard Deck, and everyone else was on board.

Jake's out of uniform tonight, in a satin-y black shirt and well-fitting jeans. You're dying to run your hands down his chest, before yanking his clothes off, but you've kept your distance this evening. You're irritated that he's been avoiding you, even though you specifically told him you didn't want any of your friends to know about your arrangement.

You met Natasha at a hot yoga class and you two became quick friends. Once the two of you were close enough, she introduced you to her squadron. Not even a few hours after she brought you to the Hard Deck and introduced you to all her friends/coworkers, you'd hooked up with Jake in the bathroom. Even though you swore it wouldn’t happen again, it did, a lot.

So it became a regular thing, that you conveniently didn't mention to everyone else. A good old fashioned friends with benefits. He didn’t seem the type to be in a relationship and you weren’t looking for anything serious. 

Problem is, both of you get jealous but neither of you will admit it, or ask for something more.

You take the tequila shot that Natasha slides in front of you, reveling in the burn down your throat. You're one shot past fun, buzzy, tipsy, and entering a pouty, crabby tipsy. You want nothing more to sit at the high top table, with your arms crossed and bottom lip popped out until Jake comes and gives you some attention, but instead you force a smile, and pull Natasha out to dance.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake has had an eye on you all night, and know that you've moved to dance, closer to his perch at the bar, his gaze is locked on your form.

The tight dress you have on accentuates your form and Jake almost wipes drool from his mouth when he see's you dancing against Natasha. Your ass rolls against her front, her hands loosely on your hips. You’re both giggling, your head thrown back against her shoulder. 

Song after song, you dance with Natasha, until you feel like you can no longer stand up on your own, feet aching in your heels. You wobble over to the table, simultaneously jealous and in awe of the way Natasha seems to gracefully strut to the table, even after four tequila shots.

Jake is back at the table, he must’ve lost the woman he was talking to, because she’s nowhere to be found. You’re still sporting a frown though, facial muscles taut. Jake is studying you carefully, but you don’t even notice, reaching for Natasha to ask for another shot.

“Why don’t I get you some water, sweetheart?” He cuts in, hand reaching for you. You step away from his hand, face pulling into a scowl, but following in his direction nevertheless. His hand hovers over your lower back, not actually touching you, but you can still feel the heat from his appendage. 

“I missed you.” He says quietly, once you’re far enough from the table.

You snort, giving him a cold look. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His brows furrow, a pout that you would find cute any other time, tracing his lips. “I don’t understand, I thought we weren’t telling anyone?”

You roll your eyes with a huff, crossing your arms. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Jake.” 

“Then, please, enlighten me, darlin’,” He whines, not a trace of sarcasm in his tone. 

You sigh heavily. “If you missed me so much, like you said, then why were you talking to other girls?” You wonder, eyes narrowed.

“Baby, are you kidding me?!” He exclaims, ignoring the sharp look you give him—whether its from the baby or his volume level, he doesn’t know. “My favorite girl was ignoring me, I—“

“No Jake, I’m not ‘kidding you’.” You snap, abruptly cutting him off. “What the hell am I supposed to think? You spend the whole night, not speaking to me, but you’re fine with talking blondie’s ear off all night? I wasn’t ignoring you, I’m trying not to make it obvious to our friends that we’re sleeping together, but you could at least acknowledge me!”

“Are you jealous?” He blurts, he can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him, even when he thinks he see’s smoke come out of your ears.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hiss.

“No need to be jealous baby,” He sidles right up to you. “You’re the one I’m goin’ home with, pretty girl.”

“Well she doesn’t know that.” You grumble.

“You’re the only that needs to know it.” He rasps, calloused palms sliding gently over your cheeks, before warm lips land on yours. 

His tongue is practically down your throat when you finally push him off, feigning an appalled expression. Your cheeks warm under his gaze, but you also can’t deny how good it feels to be the only person he’s looking at right now. 

“Take me home then.” You dare, locking your eyes on his. 

“Gladly.” He smirks, sliding his arm around your shoulders. He walks you both by your group, dropping enough cash on the table, to cover all of your drinks, before leading you outside.

If your friends didn’t know before, they definitely do now. 

His familiar scent wafts up, wrapping you and your senses in comfort. You make your way to the kitchen, smiling when you realize Jake left coffee in the pot for you, and set a cup out for your drink. 

You’re fixing up your coffee the way you like it, when he comes in from the small laundry area. A disgruntled look is on his face, eyebrows furrowed until he see’s you.

“Morning sweet thing.” He smiles. “D’ya get your coffee?”

“Sure did.” You hold it up as proof. “Thanks for setting it out.”

“Course.” He pauses for a second and scratches the back of his head. “Have you seen my hoodie?”

“Gonna have to be more specific Jake,” You grin, cocking your head slightly. “You have a lot of hoodies.”

“That one.” He says, pointing right at you. You freeze, heart dropping to your stomach until he speaks again. “Well, mine. I know we have the same one.”

“Yeah,” You answer dumbly. “I uh, haven’t seen it. Could you have left it somewhere maybe?”

He sighs. “Probably. I let Javy’s little brother borrow it last week, but I swear he gave it back to me.”

“Maybe I’m wearing yours?” You offer up shyly, feeling guilty, but also not wanting to give yourself away. 

He shakes his head. “It’s fine darlin’. It’s probably just in my room somewhere.”

You nod. He turns to grab his water bottle off of the counter when he spots the familiar stain on the right arm of his hoodie. It’s syrup from when he, Bradley, and Javy went to Waffle House hungover, after their first party as freshman. Try as he might, he’s never been able to get the stain out. You must not have noticed the stain, because he knows your sweatshirt doesn’t have one.

“Actually, I’m going to wear a different hoodie today.” He tries to hide his smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Now it’s creeping past one am and Natasha’s roommate already came to pick her up, and Melanie is drunkenly snuggling Bradley in the recliner you’d helped them move into the place when they bought it. People are slowly starting to clear out, but there’s still a good handful of people lingering. 

The wine has gone to your head a little, and you stumble over to where Jake is shoved into the corner of the couch, talking to Bradley, who’s got Melanie in his lap while he rubs her back.

“Jake,” You whisper, tripping over a set of feet next to him. He’s quick to steady you, grabbing you by your waist and deftly pulling you into his lap.

“Hey darlin’,” He greets with a smile. “You all right?”

“Hm-mm.” You nod, a dazed smile on your face. “Came over to say hi, and I tripped.”

Jake glares at the unsuspecting owner of the feet you happened to trip over. “You wanna hang for a bit, or you ready to go home?”

Home. The fact that he says it, and his familiar tone settles nicely in your chest, sticky warmth spreading throughout your body.

“Stay for a little?” You wonder. “Then go home and watch tv?”

“Whatever you want.” 

You nod, pleased, cheeks warming when you realize you’ve been staring at Jake’s smile for a little too long. You move to slide off his lap, and before Jake even realizes what he’s doing, his hands fly to your waist, squeezing gently. 

“No," He starts, tugging you even closer to him. "You can stay. I don’t mind.” 

You smile, leaning farther back into him, shoulder against his chest. He’s rubbing the back of your head and you’re starting to drift off before you even know it. 

Jake’s too busy watching you to realize he never went back to his conversation with Bradley. And when he looks up, said man is giving him a smirk, raising an eyebrow. Jake simply flips him off and returns his attention fully to you.