the boy is mine

"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.”

"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.”

"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.

“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.

“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.

“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.