Due to a strong foundation of trust and a willingness to share, a situation which would normally be catastrophic, seems to turn out to be quite rewarding.
Pairing: danny wagner x f!reader, jake kiszka x f!reader
Word Count: 20.4k (i am so sorry)
Warnings: SMUT 18+, threesome, unprotected/protected sex, rough sex, anal sex, double penetration, oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), face fucking, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk (lots and lots of dirty talk), choking, biting, name calling, praise, slight impact play, daddy kink, dom/sub, voyeurism, degradation, jealousy, mentions of cheating/thoughts of infidelity, arguing, asshole/shit disturber Jake, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!
this is pretty much pure porn. plot at the beginning, but mostly just sex. took a break from gdw for a little while just to straighten my thoughts with it, and came up with this idea and could not stop myself from writing it. it’s super long and very lightly edited, so I do apologize for that. please don’t judge me too hard for this one 😭 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!
also! italics are the memories/past, everything else is present! thought I’d try something new this time 😁
The chime of the bell above the door signalled the entry of the newest patron of the bar. Normally, you would have eagerly greeted whoever walked in, but tonight, you were caught up in the chaos of the already crowded room. Dollar bills were waving in front of your face, hands raised in the air to catch your attention, and the occasional shout from an impatient customer filled the already loud atmosphere. Beer bottles were flying across the sticky wooden countertop in exchange for cash. Margarita and shot glasses were lined before you, only empty for a moment before they were shoved in the proper direction, too. You were working faster than you could comprehend, barely hanging on but surviving from the thought of your coworkers starting shift in a few minutes.
You took the early shift, thinking that you could breeze through the night with minimal stress and effort. For the most part, you were correct in thinking so. Unfortunately, when the clock struck eight, the city’s nightlife took a dramatic turn. As a result, the bar was quickly overrun with guests desperate for a buzz. Some were understanding, kindness oozing from them as long as they had a drink in their hand. Others were not, but you couldn’t blame them. There were far too many people in the bar for only a single bartender, and that wasn’t really a management issue, either. You were an establishment that was plagued with long time regulars and middle aged men in search of companionship. Every now and then a group of older women would check the place out, but rarely anyone under 30. So, you were confident in saying that it was unusual for you to house so many people in a single night, let alone all at once.
You rushed through your last few customers, serving everyone who had been waiting in hopes that they would still be generous enough to leave a tip. For the most part they were, and for that you were thankful. When the last person retreated, happily sipping on their beverage of choice, you took a moment to breathe. With both hands planted on the countertop and your head towards the floor, you took a much needed minute of rest. When a body presented itself in front of you once more, you thought you might shed a tear just at the thought of fixing another drink. “What are you drinking tonight?” You asked, aiming to sound as cheery as possible.
“You don’t know by now?” At the sound of the familiar tone, your head snapped up in surprise. “I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t hurt.”
“Shut up,” you landed a playful smack on his arm, your first genuine smile of the night fighting its way on to your lips. “Of course I do.” The words fell from your lips as you reached under the counter for a glass. You scooped a few ice cubes into the cup, the sound ringing nicely to his ears. You turned, grabbing a whiskey bottle from the top shelf, wasting no time pouring a double shot over the cubes. “Top shelf whiskey, always. Doesn’t matter the price, as long as that’s where it’s from and it’s a double.” You smirked, turning to place the bottle back in its place. “Three or four ice cubes. Not enough to water it down, but enough to keep it cold.” You continued, reaching for a citrus peel neatly arranged into a spiral from a plastic container beside the glasses. “And something to make it look pretty, as long as it doesn’t change the taste.” You arranged it neatly on the rim with a hint of cockiness seeping through your pores. “And served with a smile, because that’s what makes it taste the best.” You placed it in front of him, paired with the sweetest smile your cheeks could adorn and a soft wink.
“You really do know me, trouble.” He picked up the glass, swirling it around so the ice could cool the liquid. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
“You should be, Jacob. I wouldn’t be a very good bartender if I forgot my favourite customers’ order.” He took a small sip, fighting the urge to dish out another compliment. He knew better, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted.
“Busy spot tonight,” he noted, looking around at the bustling room. The booths and tables were so full that people had taken to standing by the walls, content with being seatless and lost in chatter with each other. “Suppose you actually had to work, not just sit here and look pretty.”
“Nothing wrong with doing both.” You reminded. “Although I don’t think you’d know too much about the working class.”
“Right,” he chuckled, taking a seat on one of the stools. “But I do know a thing or two about looking pretty.” You gave him a shrug, not willing to play into his ego.
“Where’s the rest of your company tonight?” You changed topics, careful not to tread too deeply. “Not like you to stag it.”
“On their way. I’d give them about ten minutes, then I’ll worry.” He assured you. “Maybe I just wanted you all to myself for a night.” He posed the theory as if he had never divulged in the glory of seclusion with you. You ignored him, unwilling to admit that you didn’t mind him on his lonesome.
“What can I get for you, darlin’?” You asked, barely looking up from your hands.
“Whiskey, top shelf. You can pick.” The voice rang through you as if it was blessed with the grace of god himself, settling in your chest and warming your soul. You finally broke your focus from your lime cutting, curious to see if the face matched the beauty of the voice. As if it were some kind of sick joke, the sight of his face seemed even more heavenly than the sweet tone of his words. “Only a couple ice cubes, though. Don’t want to water it down too much.”
“Top shelf?” You asked for clarification. Normally, nobody even eyed the liquor that far up in fear that it would break the bank.
“Price doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Quality does.” As beautiful as he was, he did seem a tad cocky. You supposed you could brush it to the side unless it became a real problem. You scooped a few ice cubes into the cup, turning to the wall of liquor to pick his poison. You used the step stool to reach for a bottle on the far left. You brought it down with caution, returning to him with a raised eyebrow. He glanced at the label and gave a nod of approval.
“Single?”
“Always a double.” You could hear a smile hidden in his tone. You poured the whiskey over the ice, the crackle striking him with curiosity. “Ice usually goes in last, does it not?”
“Been doing this a long time,” you chuckled “tastes better this way.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He hummed. As you turned to place the bottle back in its original place, you could feel his eyes burning into you. When you turned back to him, your suspicion was confirmed. He seemed shameless about his unwavering stare. “Got anything to make it look pretty?” You let out a sigh, pondering what you could add to it. You pulled out a citrus twist, showing it to him. “Will it change the way it tastes?” He smirked.
“Unless you’re planning on eating it, no.” You teased, garnishing the rim with it. “Probably wouldn’t be very pleasant if you did.” You passed it to him, smiling at the peculiar interaction.
“That smile will make it taste even better, though.” He noted, eyes still glued to you. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Y/n,” you said, feeling a hint of a blush plaster your cheeks. “What about you? Never seen you around here before.”
“Sweetheart suits you better.” He noted. “I’m Jake.” He replied, taking a sip of the beverage. He gave a nod of approval paired with a little smile, one that stole the air straight from your lungs. “Just moved here, thought I’d check the place out.”
“Satisfied so far?” You weren’t shy in admitting your question was laced with filthy undertones. You were certain you would let him take you right then and there with no guilt at all. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, and his interest in you was very apparent.
“Incredibly,” he let out a small laugh. “What about you, trouble?”
“What about me?” You shot back, thankful that the bar was nearly empty. You thought it would be worse than torture, having to cut your conversation with him short.
“Are you satisfied, sweetheart?”
Jake was the devil in disguise, and that you were certain of. His charm was like no other, but his intentions were his downfall. He would do anything for a night of fun, but that’s where his involvement ended. He was quick with a joke, always trying for a laugh. Compliments were steadily flowing, and his gaze was always the same; attempting to undress you with his eyes alone. You were sure Jake could make a great friend if you allowed him to get that close, but it was much too risky for you to entertain. You had fallen victim to him once, and had never fully recovered. To step in time with him was assurance of certain death, and that was something you could never forget. Although beautiful, his love was not something desirable. Despite knowing that, you seemed desperate to convince yourself of the fact every time you were near him.
“Aren’t you always trying to get me alone?” You chuckled, hearing the door chime once more.
“Always trying, never succeeding.” He shrugged, taking a long drink from his cup. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I wonder why that is, Jacob.” You rolled your eyes. The conversation came to a halt as soon as the words left your mouth. Danny, Josh and Sam had joined you two at the bar, taking a seat beside their brother while still amidst their own conversation.
“I wonder, too.” Jake said, always needing to get the last word in. You clenched your jaw, already finding yourself annoyed with him despite only being in his company for a short time.
“That’s it, beautiful. Just like that.” His desperation was evident, heavy breathing sounding through the room and staining the walls with sin. It was a sin you would never be able to forgive yourself for, one that was made in a moment of weakness and left an air of suffering in its wake. “Does that feel good?” His fingers were knotted in your hair, laced around the strands like a snake settling in for a kill. No verbal response could compare to the vulgarity of your moans. “Tell me how good it feels, baby.”
You broke your stare from his face, feeling a wave of indignation washing over you at the vile memory. It was something that plagued you, seeming to poison every pleasant thought and ruin it indefinitely. To him, it seemed like a typical Sunday afternoon activity. Jake was always dripping with sex appeal, and sex was his favourite pastime. It was a horrendous pairing of traits. He had no remorse for his actions, none at all for making you fall for him and then disappearing as if he never existed at all. You were a one night stand, and he left your apartment that night with no intent of ever speaking to you again. You were a fool for him, in love by the first touch, and you were nothing more than a conquest to him, a challenge with little significance, and you were one he proved so easily forgettable.
You never wanted to see him again, almost happy he had vanished after the initial shock wore off. You vowed if you were to see him again, you wouldn’t even cast a glance in his direction. You did well; the first few times he came back around the bar you barely even acknowledged his existence. That struck a nerve in him you didn’t even realize he could have. Emotion was very low on Jake’s list of priorities, but you seemed to invoke every single one in him. It bothered him so much that he refused to return to the bar you worked at for many months in fear of facing rejection again. He avoided you just long enough for you to meet a fantastic person, one who seemed very willing to give you the love you were looking for. One that found himself sitting in the same bar seat Jake had once sat, staring just as longingly at you as Jake did. This time, the patron was in it for more than a hookup, and had fallen for you far beyond anything Jake could ever comprehend feeling.
It was fantastic; a dream come true, even. Someone who loved in the same way you did, adorned the same outlook on life, and had the same morals and passions. It was so fantastic that it seemed too good to be true. “Hey, beautiful.” Danny leaned over the counter, placing a kiss to your cheek as you sat a beer bottle in front of him. “I missed you.”
Correction: it was too good to be true.
“I missed you.” You smiled, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.
“Ten more minutes and you can join us on the other side.” Sam joked, eyeing the clock.
“Oh, I know. I’ve been counting the seconds.”
Jake had done such a good job at disappearing that he had dug his own grave. Instead of mustering the courage to confront you, to apologize and make amends for his actions, he gave you ample opportunity to fall in love with his best friend. As if it was some type of sick joke, a repercussion for the sins you committed with him, you had no idea that they were so close until it was far too late. You were already falling fast for the curly haired boy who appeared to be the exact opposite of Jake Kiszka. You were so desperate to purge Jake from your life that you failed to realize Danny was a sure way to allow him right back in.
“My friends are gonna join me, tonight. Is that okay?” Danny was nervous, that much was obvious. But, he was cute when he was nervous, and you couldn’t imagine why meeting his friends would cause any kind of problem.
“F’course it is, handsome.” You smiled, handing a bottle to him after ridding it if the cap. “You know, draft would be much cheaper. And better for the environment.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, finding it impossible to stop admiring you. “They can be a lot, sometimes. I just don’t want them to scare you away.” He chuckled.
“I like you, Daniel. I’m dating you because I like you, not because of your friends. Besides, crazy never really bothered me much. I work at a bar, so I’m sure I’ve met worse.” He laughed, nodding along to your words.
“Suppose I can’t argue that.” He agreed. “If you like them, we can properly hang out sometime. I just thought that if you didn’t, you could pretend to be busy with something else.”
“Thoughtful, but not necessary. I’m sure I’ll love them.” You leaned over and placed a kiss to his cheek. “You worry too much.”
“I like you, what can I say?” He smiled, appreciative of your attitude. “Plus, they keep pestering me about coming here all the time. Figured I couldn’t keep you a secret much longer.”
“Oh, so I’m a secret?” You teased, sending him a wink.
“Not like that,” he rolled his eyes, but he was laughing as he did so. “If I could, I’d keep you all to myself for the rest of my life. What if you like one of them more than me?”
“Impossible.” You assured him, sending look of finality to show him you were serious. “I’m going to clean off the booths, give me a shout when they get here, okay?”
“For a kiss,” he smirked.
“That just comes with the service.” You giggled, leaning forward and capturing him in a moment of sweetness. “That better not count as my tip.” You joked as you pulled away.
“I’ll give that to you after work.” He assured you as you shuffled out from behind the counter.
“I’m counting on it!” You replied, already busying yourself with clearing away empty bottles and glasses. By the time you finished the line of booths, your tray was full to the brim. You hummed along to the music playing over the sound system as you returned to your post, barely noticing your surroundings as you discarded the tray full of clutter. When you swung around, you noticed there were more people at the bar than there were previously. Danny had a smile stuck on his lips as he found himself in mindless conversation with his company. You even found yourself smiling, too, looking over the new faces in attempt to familiarize yourself with them.
The first two looked strikingly familiar, both showcasing features that were not only perfectly suited for their face, but also had an air of similarity. You figured they must be brothers. You and Danny had yet to discuss much other than each other, as the relationship was quite new. You were certain in its strength, but meeting friends was a huge step forward in the process of loving each other. You didn’t stare for too long, realizing that there was another friend you had yet to see. Your head turned down the line of boys, landing on someone who had already made quick work at staring at you. Your stomach dropped, quickly understanding the reason for the other boy’s familiarity. You felt like the ground was stolen from underneath you, that the universe was wrapping its cold fingers around your neck and slowly strangling the life from you. Your palms were sweaty, head spinning with no sign of stopping.
“Remember my order, sweetheart?” He murmured, glancing to his side to make sure Danny hadn’t noticed your volatile reaction.
“Of course I do.” Your words were paired with a scowl, at a loss for ideas on how to dig yourself out of the hole you were in.
You threw your apron in the laundry bin, counting out the cash tips to mark them down in the book. Once it was recorded, you let your hair down from its elastic, running your fingers through the mess of knots the nights stress had created. Once you were able to rid yourself of the aura of darkness that was looming over your head, you managed to force yourself back out into the bar. The noise was immediately overwhelming, seemingly much louder now that you were on the other side of the counter. “Whiskey sour, please.” You gave your coworker a smile, silently thanking them for showing up on time.
“You staying?” He asked, immediately springing to action at your words.
“Guess so.” You sighed, placing the change on the counter. “As if I’m not here enough.” You grumbled. “Danny thinks we should spend our free time here, too.”
“At least try to have fun,” he laughed at your grim expression. As soon as the drink was in front of you, you took a long sip.
“You too.” You chuckled, turning your head to scan the crowd. You noticed that the boys had claimed a booth in your time away, settling in with little hesitation. You walked over, grabbing a chair from a table and placing it at the end of the booth.
It had been years since you and Danny had started dating, and it had been phenomenal. You didn’t have a single complaint aside from Jake, and neither did he. A year or so prior, you had even moved in together. You adored him, and he was your whole world. You had no doubt in choosing him as a life partner, but you did wish that you had never given in to the temptation of Jake. Because even years later, he still looked at you the same way he did that first night he showed up at the bar. Even with no hint of success, or an idea that he would ever have you like that again. He was relentless, and it was excruciating.
Even as in love with Danny as you were, you couldn’t lie and say that Jake was not attractive. You had fallen into bed with him once, and for good reason. You had no desire to be with him, no need for him in any way that mattered, but he was like a parasite, begging to leech life directly from the source. He flirted as if you weren’t practically married to his best friend, as if he didn’t care about hurting him in the crossfire. You shot him down most of the time, but even the best of people had their moments of weakness. There were some nights, albeit few and far between, that you found yourself tipsy enough to entertain him for a moment before the crushing guilt took over.
Danny was not ignorant to what happened between you and Jake. In fact, he was quite aware of Jake’s intense infatuation with you. It would be untruthful to say that it never caused any issues, but there was no world in which it wouldn’t. Danny was quite trusting in you, confident in your love and knew you respected him enough to never stray. That was wholeheartedly true, and being unfaithful to him was never a thought that crossed your mind. Sex with Jake, even as mind blowing as you knew it was, was not worth risking a lifetime of love with Danny. It was futile, and you knew that one night with Jake would always be just that. He hated the thought of commitment, and would never settle down. It was not worth losing everything that Danny gave to you.
“We have to tell him!” You spat, palms landing flat on his chest and pushing him backwards. You were not one for physical violence, but Jake always seemed to bring out the worst in you.
“Fine, then tell him!” He barked back, neither of you caring about your volume or presentability. “Why does it have to fall on me?”
“Because you’re the one who started it! You finally got me to have sex with you, and then you left! You disappeared! You got what you wanted, like always, and now look at the problems it caused!” You exploded. “I’m not risking losing him over someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” He chuckled, looking at you with a fierce shield of carelessness, as if your words hadn’t cut him deeper than a knife. “Fine, we’ll tell him. I’ll go in there and tell him just how good you look from behind, or how beautiful those slutty little noises sound, especially when my name was stuck on those pretty lips. I’m sure he’d love to hear about all of that.” He smirked, lighting a fire in you like no other.
“Fine, I’ll go in there and tell him how you spent weeks getting me to fall for you. Came in here every night so desperate for attention that you couldn’t leave until we kicked you out. You wanted me so bad that you drank us out of liquor, and when you finally had me, you broke my fucking heart. Would you like me to tell your brothers, too? ‘Cause I can talk all night about how terrible of a person you are.” His eyes changed; the defensive nature he previously held was obsolete. He knew he had done wrong, but he had no idea how badly he truly hurt you. He was at a loss for words, so he said the only thing he believed held any meaning.
“I’m sorry.” He muttered. The cold air of the night was nipping at the tip of your nose, but the wind hitting you was unable to compete with the slap of his pathetic apology.
“Fuck you, Jake.” You shook your head, grimacing at the thought of him being apologetic about his actions. “I’m telling him. I really like him, and he deserves the truth. Dishonesty isn’t really my thing, even if it is yours.”
And tell him, you did. It was a tearful confession, an admission of guilt for something you didn’t really need to be ashamed of. He was almost too understanding, showering you with comfort when you felt like he should have walked out. It did sting for him to hear, but he was not willing to blame you for a choice you made months before ever knowing him. His willingness to accept you as is was more than enough for you to fall in love with him. He appreciated the truth, and from there on you two had built a loving life with each other. The thought of Jake was less daunting and more manageable. For the first little while, Jake backed down with the understanding that he was in the wrong. He allowed you to live your life, pretending as if he never knew you until Danny introduced you to each other. It was the amicable thing to do, but unfortunately Jake had no idea how to maintain that outlook. It only took a few months before his insufferable personality made its inevitable return.
“You’re quiet, tonight.” Danny nudged you, sending a soft smile your way.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It was a long shift. I’ve never seen it this busy in here.” You said, taking a long drink from your glass. It was nearing the end, and you were itching to go for another one, just to escape Jake’s burning stare for a moment.
“That’s okay,” he placed his hand on your knee under the table, sending a jolt of comfort through you. “We don’t have to stay out for long.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, placing your hand atop of his. “We can do whatever. I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you.” He gave you a lingering stare, one that told you he felt the same way, but he wasn’t sure if he completely believed you.
You weren’t certain as to why Jake was bothering you so much more as of recent. Bothering was not the proper term, really. He never bothered you; his advances were not uncomfortable or troublesome. Infuriating by times, yes, but he was harmless in every sense of the word. He was affecting you more, and that was a strange feeling. You had spent the last few years managing to ignore almost every sly pass or risky comment. It had become routine, Jake capturing you in a moment of seclusion and doing his best to make your loyalty falter. It was always the same story; a few eye rolls, a scoff, and maybe even a playful shove that had incredible amounts of hidden frustration behind it. Jake was the master at flirtation, and you had mastered rejection. It grew increasingly easier over time, and now it was barely a chip off your shoulder. The beginning proved tough, but you persevered to a point where it barely bothered you in any way that mattered. Lately, it seemed like it was more impactful than your typical game of cat and mouse. His touches held more emotion, lingering for a moment too long. His eyes held unspoken words, and his moves were no longer meant to maim; they were aimed to kill.
You found yourself playing into him more, entertaining the idea before ultimately shutting it down after the crushing guilt took over. You would never do that again, and even more so, you would never do that to Danny. You repeated the mantra in your head until the words seemed to bleed from the walls. As firm as you were on your stance, Jake had a devastatingly intoxicating attitude, and you weren’t a stranger to his temptation even long after his initial strike all of those years ago.
“Making drinks even on your days off?” The dulcet tone caught your attention, unexpected and causing you to stutter with your movements. The bottle of vodka moved off target and caused a small spill on the table. You didn’t look up to the perpetrator, no need to see him to know who it was.
“You know me, live to work instead of work to live.” You chuckled. It was true; you were so invested in working that a social life had never been a priority for you. Money was a wicked motivator, and even if the bar was not typically bustling, your regulars were quite generous with their tips. You’d been working at the same bar since you had moved out of your parents house and you had no imminent plans to leave. The owners were nice, they had given you a promise of a manger’s position if you ever wanted it, and you thoroughly enjoyed your coworkers company. The wages weren’t awful and the tips were great. You saw no issue with working, and made it a point to do it as much as you could.
“Makes me think that you don’t want to be at home.” Jake theorized, taking a step closer to you as you swiped away the spilled alcohol. “Is everything as fantastic as you make it seem, or is being tied down not all it’s cracked up to be?” He was beside you, now. His charm was radiating from him, inviting you in without you even noticing how badly it burned. You could feel the warmth from his body slowly surrounding you, a feeling that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You finally looked towards him, trying to maintain some semblance of passiveness with his advance.
“I’m quite content, Jacob.” You said, holding his stare with no intention of backing down. “Makes me think that you’re projecting.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at your need to argue.
“Was just a thought, sweetheart.” He looked towards the table. “Is it such a terrible thing to be worried about a friend?”
“Considering you and I are far from friends, and I know you’re not worried about anything other than sex, yeah.” You also looked to the table, pouring the mix into the three glasses before you. You placed straws in each of them, giving a slight stir as you did.
“I didn’t know it was a crime to enjoy sex.” He shrugged, a smirk toying at his lips.
“It’s not. Think lots of people do.” You snipped, looking towards him. “It’s a crime to want it from your best friends girlfriend.” He chuckled, shamelessly enjoying the fire in your tone.
“Not if I had you first,” he reminded, thrilled by the shift in your expression. Talk of what came before Danny had been strictly forbidden, and you both had done well adhering to it after the initial blowout of the truth. His hand slipped to your waist, fingers dangerously dancing close to parts of you he was no longer allowed access to. The tips of his fingers settled just near your ass; not close enough for an offence, but clearly toying the line between right and wrong.
“That never happened, Jake. Remember?” You prompted him to recall the harsh boundaries you had put in place months prior.
“Oh, I remember,” he smiled, pulling you in to him a little closer. “I think about it all of the time. How could I forget?” It was clear that the two of you were not speaking about the same memory. There was no space left between your bodies, your chest pressed to his and his lips hovering over your own. “Do you remember?”
“Jake,” you warned, knowing that this was far beyond any level of comfort for anyone. He was pushing every possible boundary, and you weren’t sure if it was because he wanted you, or if he just wanted to see you crack under the pressure. Most of the time, anything Jake did seemed more like a punishment or a test rather than anything positive. You wanted to believe he was genuine, but you knew him to be sly and willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. You could feel him pulling you in despite both of you being as still as possible. It was just how he was; his eyes were inviting, as was every other physical aspect of him. The only deterrent was his personality, and even that wasn’t completely horrible by times. But it was a trick, as it always was, and as much as your body wanted to fall for it, you knew it was more than wrong. It was despicable.
When his nose was touching yours, brushing together with a million sparks of electricity, you finally came back to reality. You raised your hand, pressing it flat to his chest and pushed him backwards. You were livid at yourself for allowing him to get so close, but even angrier at him for trying so hard to make you fall for it. “What’s wrong, sunshine?” He smiled. The air was still laced with notes of whiskey. It radiated off him as if he used it as holy water. At one time, the scent was alluring, deadly when mixed with his cologne. Now, it seemed repulsive. “Not even once, for old times sake?”
“Never again.” You snapped, unwilling to believe that he truly thought you would agree to his request. “You’re hammered.” You noted, feeling the choke of tears in your throat. “Go home.” The regret for even allowing him near you was debilitating.
“All alone?” The smirk he held was infuriating.
“Go home, Jake.” A third voice broke through the tension in the air. You both turned to the entryway of the kitchen, seeing Danny standing with his arms crossed. He didn’t seem angry, more like he just wanted to put an end to the chaos and move on. Jake raised his hands in surrender, casting one more sideways glance at you before shuffling towards the door.
Sam sat a third drink in front of you, prompting you to utter a small thank you for his kind gesture. You were already tipsy, before you even joined them for a drink you could feel your head swirling from exhaustion. Alcohol certainly did not help you wake up, nor did it help the incessant memories from the past. You wasted no time bringing the straw to your lips in attempt to wash down the bitter aftertaste of remembering. You closed your eyes, desperate to focus on anything other than the ache of knowing Jake in any other way than surface level. Even the burn of the whiskey was preferable to the burn of him.
“Maybe you should slow down, baby.” The concerned tone was less of a comfort and more like a stab to an already open wound. You set the glass back on the table, eyes flickering to your boyfriend. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to focus on him and him alone. You could feel Jakes eyes searing into the back of your skull, begging you to look at him instead. Had it been a battle for affection, a challenge of courtship, you could be more sympathetic for the boy, but everyone was painfully aware that Jake was not after you with intentions of marrying. Sure, he liked you, but it was in a way that only Jake could comprehend. To everyone else, it seemed like he viewed you as a conquest, thinking he would have gratification like no other if he was able to steal you back for just one more night. It was vile, and no matter how much you tried to stop it, it only seemed like he was even more mesmerized by you.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.” You nodded, fidgeting with your hands on your lap. You looked guilty, even if you had nothing to be guilty about. There was never an instance between you and Jake that Danny was unaware of. He was the first to know, and he knew it all. Perhaps your guilt was not accredited to your night spent with Jake, but rather your deepest desire for the chance again. It was horrendous to even consider it, but Jake was unlike anyone else. Again, you had no desire to be with him in any way that mattered, and in truth, sex did not necessarily matter. At least, not in any way worthwhile. You knew that you were undeniably attracted to Jake, and you likely would jump at the opportunity to have sex with him again, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else. Knowing that it was implausible to invite Jake in without disaster, you shoved that idea as far down as humanly possible. For a long time, it never seemed to resurface, but every time he attempted to ignite the old flame, it seemed to push forward a little more. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.
By times it seemed like guilt was the only emotion you knew how to feel. Guilt for past mistakes before Danny ever came in to your life, and for being in his life after said mistake. Guilt for giving into his temptation, even if it was just slightly, and even more so for rejecting him while knowing you would accept if the circumstance were different. There was no possibility you could bring the idea up to your boyfriend, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to. The desire was strong, but not nearly enough to risk losing everything. Instead, you opted to suffer in silence. It was always better that way, anyway. A problem could only be true once it was spoken into existence.
You knew you were incorrect about all of your conclusions, but you chose to continue on the path, anyway. It didn’t matter if you kept it silent; Jake Kiszka was very much a problem, and that would never go away unless it was dealt with directly.
Perhaps it was the decade of friendship that made the predicament so troublesome. You would never bring the situation to an ultimatum, mostly because it was wrong to make him choose between you two, but a small part of you was afraid that you would not win that battle. Your relationship was strong, and had been since the very beginning, but you were unsure if you could compete with a lifetime of friendship, nor the bandmate bond. Jake was going to be a part of Danny’s life indefinitely, and not just in a social setting. They were family, coworkers, and friends. You knew that if you wanted to be in his, too, you would have to learn how to cope with the reality.
“You okay, trouble?” Josh smiled, pointing his gaze at you. You gave a nod, trying to look as pleasant as possible. Even the sound of the nickname made your stomach churn, even if Josh used it in a much better way than his brother did.
“Oh, yeah. Think I just need to get out of the work zone and into the fun one.” You chuckled.
“So what’s with that, anyway?” You asked, handing the whiskey glass to the boy in hopes that you would be lucky enough to brush fingers with him. Any contact was worth the world, even if it was minuscule.
“What?” Jake grinned, doing just as you hoped he would. As he received the glass, he let his fingers rest on yours for just a second too long.
“Why do you call me trouble?” You laughed, unsure of where his nickname originated.
“Oh, I forgot your name. Had to think of something on the spot.” He joked, taking a sip of his drink and watching for a reaction. You rolled your eyes, knowing very well that it was a lie. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” He sighed, leaning in a little closer.
“I would appreciate it.” You gave him a sweet smile, coaxing the answer from him.
“It’s my indirect way of saying I like you, sweetheart.” He hummed, eyes never leaving your face. He was revelling in the blush that dusted your cheeks. “Plus, a girl as beautiful as you is nothing but trouble.”
“Don’t flatter me, Jacob.” You brushed him off, but felt yourself leaning closer to him over the bar top.
“But it’s my favourite thing to do.”
“I’m going to grab another drink.” You announced, standing as you looked over the table. “Anyone else?” All of the boys put in their orders, thanking you for the offer. Just as you were about to turn, Jake stood, too.
“You’ll need someone to help carry them,” he said in response to your pointed stare. Without argument or agreement, you turned and walked towards the bar. You didn’t have to see him to know he was following; you could feel it. You took post at the bar, waiting for the bartenders to come to you. Jake joined you, wasting no time placing a light hand on your back. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?” He asked, voice low enough so only you could hear him.
“I’m just peachy, Jake. No need to worry.” You grumbled, pulling out your card to pay for the order.
“For some reason, I don’t think that’s true.” He also pulled out his wallet, ready to race you for the bill. “Usually you already would have threatened to throw a drink at me. Tonight, you won’t even look at me.”
“It would be a waste of a perfectly good drink.” Your response was short and sweet, clearly showcasing your desire to end the conversation.
“Have I got you that bothered, tonight?” You could hear the smirk in his tone before you even looked at him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you scoffed, finally looking over to meet his eyes. The sight of his face was enough to make your heart skip a beat, so beautiful that it was almost haunting. The parallels of the two universes were debilitating when you thought about them for too long; one in which Jake would trip over himself to flatter you, and one where you would kick him to the ground before he could try.
“Don’t have to; you do that for me.” His smirk turned into a smile, his hand still lingering on your lower back.
“How many times do I have to tell you this is never going to happen?” You sighed.
“When you actually mean it.” He chirped back, wasting no time.
“I think I’ve been pretty clear.” You argued. “You know, like the the million other times I’ve told you.”
“Right,” he nodded, but mischief was dancing in his eyes. “So you don’t like it when I stop by to see you before everyone else? Or when I tell you how pretty you look?” He chuckled, already knowing the answer. “I think that you do like it, just not when Danny’s around.” And he was correct, as disgusting as it was. You had said a million times that you didn’t care for his antics, but he could see the dishonesty as if it were written all over you and stamped on your forehead in big, red letters.
“I think that you should learn how to listen, Jacob.” Even as you spoke, you could feel yourself leaning into his side ever so slightly, wordlessly inviting his attention and touch.
“I’m listening, y/n.” He assured you, mouth leaning in closer to your ear. You were enveloped in a cloud of alcohol, both of your inhibitions lowered and the primal pleasure from the touch was undeniable. “I’ll listen to you all night, if you’ll let me, but I don’t think you’ll be doing much talking.”
“Jake, I’m in love with your best friend.” You reminded.
“I’m not asking you to be in love with me.” He said, lips barely hovering over your ear now.
“This is wrong. You have to stop.” You muttered, but the warning was feeble, barely any strength behind it. He had finally gotten ahead, and he was relishing in his victory. “He’s your best friend, Jake. This is despicable.”
“Fine,” he seemed like he was going to bargain, but knowing Jake, his bargain was not worth the time or energy. “If you won’t let me take you home, you can go over there and bat your eyes, give him a sweet little smile, and ask him if he’ll let me join.” The idea struck you like a blow to the gut, settling in your bones and engulfing any existing thought in your brain. It seeped under your skin and into your veins like poison, diluting any healthy rationale and suffocating any moral. You had been so volatile at the thought of Jake that it had never even crossed your mind to think of that possibility. He could see it in your eyes, the flash of excitement at the suggestion. “See? I knew you didn’t mean it, trouble.” He tightened his grip on you slightly as he watched the elation deflate from your eye. He wasn’t suggesting it, he was only offering the idea to prove his point. “You want me, but you don’t want to hurt him.”
“Yeah, because the only use I have for you is sex. I’m in love with him.” You snapped, furious that he had played you in such a way.
“That’s all I wanted to hear, sweetheart.” He grinned. “But, if you do want to ask him, I don’t mind sharing.” He hummed. “I’d do anything to have you, again.”
“Fuck you,” you brushed off his comment, turning to the bartender and ordering the list of drinks that the others had requested.
“You’d like to,” he teased, paying for the order before you could even think of doing so. He gave you one last smile before grabbing two glasses from the counter and making his way over to the table. You tried to satiate the bubble of anger as you waited for the rest of your order, but it proved nearly impossible. You walked back to the table with a sour taste in your mouth and an overwhelming urge to go home. Worse than anything else, when you returned, the distant pained look in Danny’s eye made the interaction all the more disturbing. He knew, like always, and there was no way to hide it. When you looked to him, he averted his gaze towards Sam, who was sitting on the other side of him.
“I don’t know what to say, Danny!” You exploded, tears prickling your eyes. “I love you, and I want to be with you. Always have, and I’ve known that from the minute I met you.”
“I feel that way too, so I just don’t understand what’s so special about Jake! If you want to be with me, and you love me so much, why does it seem like you cling to the attention from him?” He ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to be upset with you but having no other way to express his feelings.
“If I could have it my way, I’d never speak to him again! I never wanted to, and then I started dating you and he magically appeared!” You tried to word your frustration as best you could. “I’m not trying to entertain him, but it gets a little hard to ignore him when he’s always around and doesn’t want to leave me alone!” You took a seat beside him at the table, silently begging him to look at you. “Danny, you have to know that I would never do that to you.”
“I know!” He snapped, causing you to recoil from the harshness. He finally looked up at you, remorse evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry, y/n. I know you wouldn’t.” He assured you. “Do you have feelings for him?”
“No, baby.” You reached out for his hand. It was not a lie; you did not have any romantic feelings or anything of the sorts when it came to Jake. You were attracted to him, and you knew that he knew as much. You didn’t have to remind him. “I only feel that way for you.” You assured him.
“It’s just hard, y/n. He looks at you sometimes and I wonder… I just wonder when the day will come when he finally grows up and realizes that he wants to settle down, because I know you’ll be the only person he’s looking at.”
“Jake will never grow up.” You shut that idea down, both of you quickly realizing how blasphemous it sounded. “And it doesn’t matter if he’s looking at me, because I don’t want that with him. I had feelings for him a very long time ago, and he hurt me really bad. There’s no part of me that feels like that way for him, now. I fell in love with you, and fell for a reason. I want you to know that you’re the only one who has my heart.”
Danny was fidgeting with his hands, a sure sign that he was upset. You couldn’t blame him; if it were the other way around, you would be, too. You wished you knew how to ward off Jake for good, and in turn suffocate any of the remaining sexual desires for him. You hated that amidst the struggle, Danny felt hurt enough to doubt your love for him. Of all the things that you have felt, or imagined about Jake, they didn’t hold a candle to Danny. Under the table, you reached out for his knee. You rested your palm on his leg, thumb gently running over the fabric of his jeans. You could feel him relax under your touch almost immediately. His eyes flickered towards you, seeing the sincerity in your face almost immediately. He leaned back in the booth and slipped his hand atop of yours, a silent show of affection.
You motioned your head towards the door, pleading with him for a moment alone. He nodded, standing first and allowing you to lead the way. You both headed outside, hand in hand with no regard for anyone else at the table. When you broke out onto the patio, the cool evening stung your skin. You were almost nervous to look at him, unsure of what to say. “I know you’re attracted to him, y/n. It’s not a secret.” The words weighed you down as if you were buried in cement.
“I don’t love him, Danny.”
“No, but you do feel something for him.”
“Not in any way that matters.” You took a step towards the wooden fence of the entryway. He followed, looking down at you as he took your side. “Not in any way that compares to you.”
“I know.” He assured you. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” He shrugged.
“I know.” You felt your chest ache at the proclamation of pain. That was something you never wanted to cause him. “I don’t know what to do. He’s… persistent.”
“Yeah, always been that way.” Danny explained. “Guess it didn’t matter as much before because I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you.” You looked to the ground, the weight of shame making it impossible for you to look at him. “Look, I’m not mad at you.” He said, his hand snaking around your waist. “I knew that this would always be an issue, but I love you enough to work through it.”
“I don’t think that’s fair, Danny.” You sighed, closing your eyes at the feeling of his touch. It was the most comforting thing to ever exist.
“Listen, you’ve never actually done anything with him, have you?”
“Of course not.” You shook your head, unable to imagine betraying him in such a way.
“He’s a dog, and I’m sure you know that. I’m not really worried that you’ll leave, or anything like that. I think maybe in the beginning I was, but I know that after this many years, if something was going to happen, it would have happened already.” He pulled you into him, allowing you to rest your head on his chest without actually having to turn to look at him. “I don’t think you slept with him and then got with me as revenge. If so, you’ve played a fantastic game.” He laughed, and you did too. “You’ve told him him to back off, and I have, too, but I don’t think he would have stuck with it if he didn’t believe there was a chance.” You closed your eyes, bracing for the impact of a breakup. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. “It’s okay to be attracted to him. You’re human, and it’s a normal human thing. I also know you enough to know that you wouldn’t have gotten with him at all if you never felt anything for him.”
“It doesn’t make it right.” You were fully willing to take blame, to understand that this was a despicable thing for you to be feeling.
“No, but what I’m saying is, I continued to date you knowing the history. Still do. You were always honest with me. You’ve never lied to me, and I respect that more than anything else. I see you two together; I know that spark is there. I’m not going to punish you for that because you’ve never tried to hide it or lie about it. It’s normal for you to be attracted to people, and it’s normal for me to be hurt about it. But I think our spark is a hell of a lot bigger, and I love you far too much to not try and work this out.” You finally felt a tear slip from your eye as you wrapped your arms around him.
“I wish I never met him. I wish I could have met you, first. I don’t want to feel this way.” Your words were muffled from your face being buried in his chest, but he got the message. He held you to him, placing a kiss to the top of your head.
“I know, and part of me does, too.” He whispered. You both sat there, holding each other in hopes that it would take all of the bad away. “I think that you need some sleep, because I can see how tired you are. We can figure out how to get through it, and I know we can, but it should be in the morning.” He said, cupping your cheek in his hand and guiding your head up to look at him. He swiped away the tears with his thumb, giving you a small smile to let you know he meant everything he said.
“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled, completely lost in his eyes. The more you stared, the more things seemed to feel better. He was home, and he always would be. He was the love of your life, and you were more certain of that than anything else. “I’m sorry that I caused this. I wish I could go back in time and make some different decisions, maybe we wouldn’t be here.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t know you at all.” He theorized, and that was the worst thought of all. “It’s been four years, bug. We can make anything work. I know you love me, and I trust you; I always have.” he leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips, the feeling more soothing than any words shared.
“If it means I get to keep you, I’ll never look at him ever again.” You swore to it, knowing deep down that when it came to your relationship with Danny, you would go to the ends of the earth to salvage it.
“I don’t think we’ll have to go that far.” He chuckled, placing another kiss to your lips. “And you do deserve me. I know that you do, because after four years, you’ve never given in to him. If he flirted with me like that, I’m sure I would’ve cracked by now.” At the thought of it, you both dissolved into a fit of laughter. “Jake has always been Jake. I think he feels like he lost, and he never really got over it.”
“He did lose,” you laughed “if it were ever a competition between you two, he wouldn’t have even made it to the starting line.” You leaned up for another kiss as you finished, so incredibly grateful to have someone so understanding. Danny was the best in every sense of the word, and you had known that long before that night.
“I think after so long of you brushing it off and telling me it was okay, it was just routine. At first, him and I had plenty of words and none of them were polite. After a while, I saw that you could handle your own, and you always told me not to worry or fight with him. I trust you, but I probably shouldn’t have been so passive about it.” He explained. “If I ever thought he pushed it too far, or if he had made you uncomfortable, I would have killed him. Still would, actually. But you always seemed to laugh it off. Every time I mentioned it, you never seemed to care about him flirting, just about hurting me. I think we’ve all known for a long time, and I think that it just became so normal that we chose to ignore it.”
“Jake never bothered me.” You shrugged. “He’s harmless, and I know that. Think everyone else does, too. He just loves to flirt, and he loves attention. Sometimes, it’s actually kind of funny to see him try so hard and make a fool of himself. I care about Jake as a friend, and I do quite like him for company, but I guess I never wanted anyone to fight about it because I knew he could never be you. I think we all just let it go too far without talking about it.” You said, allowing your fingers to dance with his. Your eyes scanned his face, noticing how beautiful it looked in the dim moonlight. You felt stupid for ever having a shred of attraction for Jake, because Danny was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, inside and out. You had the world in your hands, and you took it for granted. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. You’re the most important person in my life, and I love you with every ounce of my being.”
“I love you, and I know you love me. I know we love each other enough to make anything work.” You knew he was right, because there was nothing you wouldn’t do to keep him by your side.
“Thank you for being the best.” You whispered. “And for wanting to work it out. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I know you will.” He placed a kiss to your head. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.” You rested in his arms for a moment, and the longer you spent there, the more things seemed to look up.
“I’m gonna head home. I think I need to go to bed.” You told him, pulling back slightly.
“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, looking down at you with concern.
“No, please stay and enjoy the rest of your night. I ruined it enough already.” You shook your head. “I’m just going to take a shower and go to sleep.”
“I’d enjoy it with you, too, you know. And you didn’t ruin anything.” He told you, looking more serious than he’d ever been.
“I know, baby.” You assured him. “I’ll be okay. Go in and have a few drinks, and have fun. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to come to bed.” You smiled, standing on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you.” He hummed, stealing one last kiss before you made your departure. “Call me if you need me, or even if you just want to say hi.”
“You know I will.” You gave his hand one last squeeze before taking a step away. He blew you a kiss before you turned out of sight, and as always, you pretended to catch it. He only went back inside once you were out of sight.
Luckily for you, your home wasn’t too far away from the bar. You normally walked to and from work, and it was almost your favourite part of the day. It allowed you a few moments of peace, and you could decompress from any of the day’s excitement. As you made your way down the street, you felt the weight on your shoulders lift. You felt better knowing that Danny was aware Jake was no more than a guilty pleasure, and that he was the love of your life. Part of you still felt dirty for even feeling as such, but the knowledge that you were both willing to work through it was more important than anything else. As you tumbled up your porch stairs, you wasted no time unlocking the door and bustling inside. You were eager for a shower to wash the stress of the day off, and your stomach was begging you for a bite to eat.
You kicked your shoes off and immediately went to the kitchen. You rustled around in the fridge before you found leftovers from last night’s dinner. As you warmed it up, you unbuttoned your jeans and slipped out of them. You placed them on the back of a chair and made a mental note to throw them in the laundry basket later. You ate in silence, enjoying the sound of nothing after hearing the constant buzz of a bar for hours on end. You threw your dishes in the sink and made your way upstairs to the bathroom. After you showered, you felt like a brand new person. You took extra time to do your skincare routine, and blow dried your hair before climbing into bed. The sheets were welcoming, still lingering with the scent of Danny’s cologne. When you nestled your head in the pillows, you were surrounded by the smell of his shampoo. It was the epitome of comfort, and you wished you never had to leave. It didn’t take too long until your eyes grew heavy, and the thought of sleep was too tempting to resist. You pulled the blankets up to your chin and drifted off into a slumber.
When you woke, it was still dark outside and the bed was still very much empty. You thought it was strange, figuring Danny would be back and asleep long before then. You rubbed your eyes, looking to the alarm clock on your beside and noticing that it was well into the night, now. You figured that Danny was the safest with his brothers, and you need not worry about someone over a foot taller and much stronger than you. You were about to close your eyes and fall back to sleep, but you heard the distant shutting of a door and muted chatter. Danny must have invited the boys over, which he so often did. You figured now that he was home safe, you could sleep soundly.
You settled back into the pillows, lax against the mattress and welcoming of any slumber that was willing to come to you. The sound of the same chatter began to fill the hallway, striking you as something even more strange. If you were sleeping, Danny aimed to keep the house as quiet as possible. It was unlike him to be speaking so loudly, especially so close to the bedroom. You sat up again, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Before you could even think to speak, or stand and confront the disturbance, the door of the bedroom creaked open. The chatter was obsolete, now, and the hallway light pooled in through the opening. You saw Danny, immediately prompting a smile on your face. Once he saw you were awake, he took a step inside. “Hi baby.” You crooned, excited that he was home. He didn’t respond, just took another step further into the room.
Behind him was another body, one that you couldn’t recognize through the darkness. When he turned and the flash of light reflected off the walls just right, your stomach dropped. “Hello, trouble.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.
“What’s…. What’s up?” You looked between the two boys, unsure of how to react to the situation.
“Mind if we turn a light on?” Jake asked. “Hard to see your beautiful face when it’s so dark in here.” The words settled in the pit of your stomach, making you unable to form a coherent response. Even in the simplicity of the statement, the tone of his voice alone sent a rush of arousal straight to your core. You were too close to sleep to have any inkling of right or wrong.
“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking to your boyfriend for an answer. Even in the minimal light, you could sense an air of mischief on his features. You shuffled around, searching blindly for the lamp on your nightstand. Once you located the switch, you flicked it on. A soft yellow hue decorated the walls, illuminating both boys in all of their beauty. “Better?”
“Much.” Jake smiled, but it was all but genuine. You weren’t sure if you were in a dream, mind crazed from the days whirlwind of events and fabricating some sort of twisted narrative that you wished was real. Although you seemed awake, the haze of dream and imagination nowhere in sight, the situation seemed too odd to be true. You watched the two, curious as to what they were doing, and even more so about what they were thinking. If you were in reality, they were acting more out of character than they ever had before. “Did you get some sleep, sweetheart?” Jake questioned, eyes lingering everywhere except for your own. He looked as if he was already imagining what lie beneath the mountain of blankets.
“Yeah,” you nodded, figuring the best way to find out what was happening was to play along.
“That’s good,” Jake nodded, looking to his counterpart. “You’re definitely going to need it. Long night ahead.” He gave another smile, but this one radiated excitement. You looked to Danny, silently pleading with him for an answer.
“What?” Danny asked, tone only moderately harsh. You could tell the softness was dancing behind his eyes, waiting to be seen. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” He took a step towards the bed.
“What is this?” You pried, unable to answer without more information.
“Come on, sweetheart. You’re smarter than that.” Jake urged you to answer your own question. You looked between them, studying each of their expressions for a moment. When you did, your eyes widened, mouth slightly agape in shock. You recognized both expressions far too well, and one was something you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “There you go.” Jake gave the small utter of praise, happy you were on the same page.
“I figured if you want him so bad, I’ll let you have him, but I’ve gotta have my fun, too.” Danny murmured, also looking at you with a hunger in his eyes you had only seen a few times. You were gazing at him in wonder, as if he’d given you the gift of life, unable to imagine a better way to rid yourself of the horrendous things you were feeling about Jake. “That sound okay to you, baby?” He asked, moving to your side. He looked down at you, the streak of dominance that he had a tendency for was incredibly apparent. As he waited for a reply, there was no doubt in your mind that he was more than serious. It was grievous, the fire dancing in his pupils. There would be no backtalk, no bargaining, nothing of the sorts. He was kind enough to let you have a taste of your own guilty pleasure, but it was under his authority. He was in charge, and you didn’t have the power to be anything other than obedient.
“Yes, daddy.” You spoke, in utter awe of the power he had over you. Jake looked to Danny, his expression showing nothing short of elation at the sound of your words. Danny took a glance over at him, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You could smell the alcohol from both of them, understanding that within their drunk ramblings, you must have came up in conversation. In attempt to settle the score, this was their conclusion.
“I told you.” Was all he said.
“Told him what?” You squeaked, almost embarrassed at your own willingness to submit to him.
“I told him all about you, baby.” He assured you. “Told him how well you listen, and all about how much of a whore you can be.” The ache between your legs was growing more intense by the second, still unable to comprehend the situation you had found yourself in. “But he’d know all about that, wouldn’t he?” His comment was snide, but you didn’t let it bother you. Your eyes flickered to Jake, a nervous jitter rushing through you. You were quite familiar with Danny’s character, and when the whole thing was over, he would go right back to the sweet boy you saw most of the time. He reached out, grabbing your chin in his hand and guiding you to look back at him. “I’m talking to you, not him.”
“Y-yes,” you nodded, agreeing with his statement. “He does.” You felt no shame in it, now. What was usually the elephant in the room was now nothing more than a driving force for the nights events.
“It was so good that you’re still thinking about it, yeah?” You nodded against the force of his hand, a small noise of confirmation sounding from your chest. “Better than I can make you feel?” He raised an eyebrow, but in no way were you willing to engage in his trap with both of them holding so much authority over you. “He’s going to get you off, and then we’ll see if you can give me an answer.” Your cheeks burned red, now nervous at the thought. You knew that Danny and Jake had likely discussed this in depth before coming home to you, but you weren’t sure if Danny really knew what he was getting himself into.
“I-I don’t-“
“What?” He snapped. “Been inviting him in for years, but now you’re too shy?” He taunted. “All talk, no action?” He could see the spark of indignation in your eye, happy that he’d pressed the right button. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my turn, too. So, you just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re fucking told.” He said, no debate about the matter.
“Okay,” you agreed, eyes never once straying from him. Although you had desperately wanted a moment like this with Jake, you still seemed to be plagued with guilt over the matter even with Danny’s explicit permission. He noticed it in your eyes as he moved to sit on the chair you had placed beside the bed. When you put it there for the intent of reading, you surely never thought it would be used for such a vulgar showing.
“It’s okay.” He assured you, his tone much softer than it was a moment before. “I’m okay.” You were both locked in a staring contest, but as he uttered the profession of comfortability, your worried gazed turned into a silent profession of love. Under the hard exterior, he let a loving smile peek through. You let out an exhale, content with knowing he was okay. With that, you turned to look at Jake, unable to deny the flutter of excitement in your belly. When he saw the hopeful gleam in your eyes, he couldn’t help but smile down at you, too.
“Never thought I’d get to see you like this again, trouble.” He stated, taking a step towards the edge of the bed. You sat patiently, waiting for an order from him. Although long ago, your night spent with him left you aware of his love for control, too. “Are you going to be good for me, too? Listen to me just like you do for him?”
“Yes, sir.” You nodded, entranced by the thought of him touching you again. He took a deep breath, the sound of the words washing over him like a shower of relief. He was more than thrilled that you had remembered him so well, thrilled that after so many years the experience for you was still so memorable in your mind.
“Come here, angel.” He beckoned you towards him, expecting immediate action. You slipped out from under the blanket, rising to your knees and moving towards him on the bed. When you were within arms reach, he cupped your cheek in his hand, peering down at you with adoration. He wasn’t shy to admit that he was elated to have you again. As much as his tirade was about mischief, the need to make you admit you wanted him, it also had a lot to do with his own need for you. He leaned down, wasting no time in pulling you into a kiss. It was hungry, desperate to make up for years of abstaining from the feeling. His other hand found your hip, fingers inching under the t-shirt that was covering you.
The sensation was unexplainable, the pleasure derived just from kissing him was overwhelming. Paired with the feeling of his hands on your skin, it was driving you insane. He used his wrist to hold up the fabric as his palm drifted towards your ass, he let his hand rest there, the cool metal of his ring he adorned on his finger sending a shiver through you. His grip was tight and showcased exactly how excited he was for the ability to have you again. He broke from you but didn’t move too far away. His nose was still ghosting over yours, almost as if he was scared you would disappear if he moved too far away. “Seems like you were waiting for us,” he noted, his finger slipping under the thin material of your underwear. “Were you hoping that we would come and take care of you?” He cooed, his sympathy clearly false as his lips drifted towards your jaw.
“G-god yes,” you let out a shaky sigh as his lips ghosted over your neck. He was making it a point to show you how well he remembered the sensitive spots, finding them with ease in hopes you might let a moan slip past your lips. He’d been yearning to hear it for so long that he wasn’t sure he could wait any longer.
“Let me take this off, angel.” He hummed, letting his hands snake under your shirt. As if the realization truly hit you as to what you were doing, you froze at the request, quickly looking to Danny with a hint of panic in your eye.
“It’s okay, baby.” He said, noticing your worry. He was sitting in the chair, observing the sight without a worry in the world. “This was my idea. I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable.” He said, hoping to crush your fear once and for all.
“Let me take care of you,” Jake said, also attempting to ease your worry. You looked back to him, giving a slight nod. With that, you allowed him to slip your shirt over your head. The cool air hit you immediately, but Jake was quick with his hands to warm you back up. His thumb brushed over your nipple, the light touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see you like this?” He asked, taking a moment to admire the sight before him. You bit the inside of your lip, nervous about being on display for both boys at once. “It was terrible, only being able to dream about it.” He muttered, leaning forward for another kiss. Perhaps it was because of the incessant need for him that had been eating away at you for months, or maybe because you were finally realizing that he wanted you just as bad, but you were a mess before he even took your clothes off, and you were desperate for him to keep going. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting down as his hand continued to explore your breast. The friction from the pad of his thumb was delightful, even if he was barely touching you. You let a small moan slip into his mouth, immediately sending him into euphoria.
“Did you miss me?” His fingers trailed down your torso, ticking the skin as he familiarized himself with you.
“Yeah,” you admitted, all sense of shame disappearing long ago. He moved back slightly, ridding himself of his shirt.
“Let’s get rid of these, okay?” His fingers slid under the side of your underwear, pulling it back and releasing his hold so it snapped back against your skin. You nodded, laying back on the bed and removing the flimsy fabric from your body. Jake moved towards the side of the bed, casting a sideways glance at Danny as he did so. “If you ask him nicely, do you think he’d give us some alone time?” Jake smirked, raising an eyebrow at you as he asked. “You always seem to get your way.”
“Watch it.” Danny warned, clearly not a fan of his joke.
“Just thought I’d try.” Jake said, brushing off the harsh reaction.
“Can’t perform under pressure?” The snide comment was used for show, Danny making it a point to let Jake know that he was not the one in charge of the situation.
“Feeling left out, Daniel?” Jake asked as he undid his belt buckle. “Jealous, maybe?”
“Haven’t really seen anything to be concerned about, yet.” The argument only proved that Jake was invited over solely for the sake of you. After four years of strictly monogamous dating, Danny never seemed to have an interest in sharing you with anybody. You knew he would never do anything that would put a strain on your relationship, or anything that he was blatantly uncomfortable with, but you were certain he was likely struggling a little bit with the situation. When you turned to look at him again, his eyes didn’t seem angry at all; he was relaxed, sitting as if this was a normal occurrence. You realized then that Danny wasn’t worried at all about competing with Jake, because he knew there was no need. He just wanted Jake to know that the situation was reliant on his generosity, and he could put an end to it if he wanted to do so.
When you looked back, the comment seemed to spark a flame in Jake’s eyes. One that spoke loudly about his love of competitive sport, and to him, this was exactly what the situation was. He opted not to respond, instead climbing into bed on the opposite side of you, ensuring Danny had a perfect view of what was coming next. You watched your boyfriend for a moment, searching for any signs of discomfort, but he was perfectly pleased with watching you fulfill your fantasy. You assumed it was because he knew that Jake would only have you for a moment, and he was promised a lifetime. Danny was never one for jealousy, and it was evident that not even in this situation did it bother him. The conversation you both shared earlier had allowed him to settle any fear and open his mind to possibility. Jake and Danny had shared an in depth discussion before even uttering the idea of him joining Danny. Rules, boundaries, and the knowledge that if someone was uncomfortable at any point, it would be over. The harmless banter was inevitable, but they were both on the same page; they were in it to please you, and that was it.
Jakes hand slipped between your legs, his fingers immediately running through your folds to gather the arousal he’d been causing you. As if it was something he did so often, something he knew so well, his fingers immediately found your clit. He traced circles into the sensitive bud, sending a rush of emotion through you. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten how fantastic it felt to be touched by him. He kept the pressure light, but his motion steady. He barely had to do anything to pry a moan from your lips. “Just like that?” He asked, looking over your face with a distant longing behind his eyes. “Does that feel good?”
“So good,” you breathed, eyes fluttering closed. You could feel his erection strained against his jeans, begging for any type of relief. You were eager to touch him, almost more so than you were for him to touch you. From what you remembered, Jake was not one to take things slow, but you wondered if he was pacing himself in fear of crossing any boundaries. He had spent years pining after you, always being shot down and eventually he had to understand that he would never get an opportunity to be with you again. Now that you were here, with his hands on you, and his name rolling so beautifully from your tongue, he wanted to savour it.
He increased the pressure, gaze never faltering in hopes to sear the memory into his brain forever. You let a gasp out, your hips raising from the bed to meet the movement of his thumb. He gave you a small smile, content at the reaction. “Give him a show, sweetheart. Make some noise, thank him for being so kind.” Jake purred, eyes flickering up to Danny for a moment. Your eyes followed the same direction, catching your boyfriends gaze just as Jake slipped a finger inside you. You held his stare, feeling a moan rise in your throat. You weren’t sure if it was from Jakes movement, or the carnal desire that was written all over Danny’s face. His jaw was hard set, chest heaving with his breath, but his eyes were not angry; they were half-lidded, clouded with enjoyment from the sight.
Jake gave a slight curl of his fingers as he began pumping them into you, his thumb drifting over your clit each time. The feeling was intense, only made worse when he leaned down to pull your nipple into his mouth. Your pleasure was impossible to hide, the work Jake was doing was intensified because you had the opportunity to watch Danny. With his eyes locked with yours, you felt a great need to reach out and touch him. You thought he looked quite lonely, and you were overwhelmed with the desire to have him, too. He noticed the look you were giving him, quite elated at the knowledge you still wanted him even with Jake so accessible to you. You saw him palm himself through his jeans, clearly worked up and desperate for relief, too.
Jake let his teeth sink into your nipple, just slight enough to catch you off guard. Although he would never admit it, he did feel a spark of jealousy upon noticing your disengagement from his actions. He sped his fingers, pulling you back into a cloud of euphoria. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head resting back on the pillow as your mind swirled with the threat of an orgasm. Abruptly, he stopped his movements, violently tearing you away from the dream-like state. You turned to look at him, barely catching his eye before he was slinking downwards on the bed. He settled between your legs, guiding one over his shoulder. You let a sigh of delight out as he brought his mouth to your cunt, running his tongue through you to get a taste of his own hard work.
“F-fuck,” you gasped, his tongue making quick work at circling your clit. Your hand instinctively reached for his hair, fingers tangling in the roots and giving a slight tug every time he hit a particularly pleasant spot. He added his fingers to you, resuming his earlier pace. You were thrown into a whole new dimension of bliss, already close to a climax with little effort. His tongue was just as devilish as his personality; every move was calculated, aimed for maximum impact. He was desperate to get you to an orgasm, needing it more than he needed water to survive. His own enjoyment was almost overshadowing yours, every now and again he would let out a moan against you just to show you how happy he was to be of service to you. “Jake, m’gonna cum.” You warned.
“Look at me.” Danny spoke, now. The order ran through you, his voice sending a new type of pleasure through you. You let your head fall to the side, more than willing to follow the order. The look of longing in his eyes was stronger than you’d ever seen from him before. It was strong enough that it immediately sent you over the edge upon noticing it. Your climax hit you hard, all of your muscles tensing as you let out a slur of moans and curses. The walls were decorated with your sounds of pleasure, the memory sinking into the foundation with intent to stay forever. The obscene display was almost too much for Danny to sit through, his need for you too great to be ignored.
“Taste even better than I remember, sweetheart.” Jake’s voice echoed in your ears, but you were too far gone to cognitively understand what he was saying. You barely had time to come down before Danny was on his feet, barking an order at Jake to get up.
Your head was spinning, trying to focus on something other than the residual energy of your orgasm pulsing through you. At Danny’s request, Jake stood without argument. Your orgasm was glistening on his chin, adorned like a trophy of his most proudest moment. Without another word, Danny stripped himself of his clothes and took the position that Jake had previously held. He wasted no time, immediately placing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs in attempt to convey his love for you. Danny was not jealous of Jake because he was pleasuring you; he was just eager to do it himself. “I told you I’d get my turn, baby.” He mumbled, lips still ghosting over your skin. Jake was watching you, almost seeming unsure of what to do with himself. “Do you want me, beautiful?” His fingertips grazed the outside of your thighs, selling on your hips in a firm hold.
“Yeah,” You nodded, reaching out to cup his cheek with your hand. You let your thumb drift over his cheek, showcasing the love you had for him in the small gesture. He turned his head slightly, placing a kiss to the pad of your thumb.
“I want to hear how bad you want it,” he muttered, his voice low and his order clear.
“Please, daddy. I need you. I need you so bad.” Your shameless begging was put to good use, as usual. Danny was always willing to give you what you wanted, but there was a few things he liked hearing. You were never one to deprive him of his desires, mostly because they were few and far between. He let out a hum of satisfaction, pleased at the sound of your words.
“Okay, baby.” He sighed, as if your begging was tireless and brutal. He was so quick to give in to you that it even bothered him, sometimes. “You know I’ll always give you what you want.” He was inches away from you now, so close that it was near painful to wait any longer. “But you have to take care of him, too, since he was so good to you.” Without looking up, Danny nodded his head towards Jake. The thought was thrilling, to be used by both boys however they wished. You thought that there was no better idea in the world. Your eyes fluttered towards Jake, looking expectedly at him, as if you were waiting for him to tell you what he wanted. The expression was crippling for him, the innocent aura engraved into your face tainted with your willingness to do whatever he pleased. “Show him what a good little whore you can be.”
“Yes, sir.” You breathed, nearly vibrating with excitement at the thought of Jake taking the rest of his clothes off.
“She always been this obedient?” Jake asked, a hint of humour in his tone.
“Took a while,” you could hear the smirk in Danny’s voice without even looking at him. “But I think it paid off.” You bit the inside of your lip, holding back any snide comments you wanted to convey about his jabs. You knew better, and in truth, he wasn’t lying. It was very rare for you to talk back in the bedroom, and even more so for you to contest his authority in any way. Danny was so kind and catering in every aspect of every day life, but during sex, his kindness was limited and his word was final. You learned quite quickly that if you chose to challenge him, it only made it harder for you to get what you wanted.
Jake hummed an agreement, an unspoken praise for Danny’s work. As he unbuttoned his jeans, Danny prompted you to shift closer to the edge of the bed. Jake kicked the rest of his clothes to the side, uncaring about where they landed. The sight of him naked began to form another knot in your belly, promoted without any touching at all. Jake was gorgeous, and it seemed like he had only gotten more so over the years. “Open,” he commanded, stepping closer to you. You did as he asked, turning your head to the side and opening your mouth, welcoming him to do as he wished. At the same time, Danny lowered his mouth to your cunt, resuming what Jake had been doing earlier. Jake wasted no time thrusting into your mouth, immediately letting out a hiss of pleasure. He started at a slow pace, not wanting to push you too far too soon. You let out a moan, muffled by his cock in your mouth. It was your way of telling both boys you were more than content with the current situation.
Danny slipped his fingers into you, curling them to hit the spot he’d grown so familiar with. Jake was phenomenal, but it was no comparison to your boyfriend. He had spent nearly half a decade memorizing every like and dislike, and undoubtedly had the power to bring you to an orgasm in seconds. Both sensations were equally intense, Danny’s tongue was focused intently on your clit and sending waves of pleasure through you, while the knowledge of pleasuring Jake was euphoric all on its own. Jake let out a groan, unashamedly admitting his enjoyment as he began to move his hips a bit faster. You closed your eyes, aiming to keep your breathing steady and your body relaxed.
“Fuck, y/n.” Jake hissed, his head falling back as he spoke. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His words sent another rush of arousal through you, seeing every nerve on fire. The praise was heavenly, so good that you realized you could survive off the sound alone. The position you found yourself in was more than just unexpected, but something you never would have imagined possible. Although your processing of the information was difficult, it was incredibly welcomed. Just because you had never thought it possible did not mean you hadn’t dreamed of it a time or two. You almost felt in debt with Danny, knowing that his permission and kindness had given you something so fantastic. You weren’t sure if you could ever thank him enough.
You let out another strangled moan as Danny’s fingers hit the perfect spot, sending another wave of pleasure throughout your body. Paired with the feeling of his tongue, you were dangerously close to the edge once more. You couldn’t verbally warn him, but he knew the signs all too well. His fingers were searing into your hips, holding you to him as he let out a hum, just to let you know that he knew you were close. It was a permissive gesture; he had no intention of stopping or withholding anything from you. Jake was lost in his own world, barely able to comprehend the feeling of fucking you again, even if it was only your mouth. He was hoping you would finish soon, just so he wouldn’t have to pull away first. Danny felt you tense under his hold, now speeding his movements in hopes to bring you to an orgasm. Although he didn’t find himself jealous that Jake was touching you, he did find himself envious that he wasn’t the one behind the moans falling from your lips. He was eager to please you, wanting the gratification of your orgasm like he needed it to survive.
“Are you gonna cum, angel?” Jake managed the words out through gritted teeth, still blissfully lost in the feeling of your mouth. You looked up to him, both of you knowing that you couldn’t respond. He smiled down at you, liking it much better that way. Instead of tormenting you further, he continued to fuck your mouth so you couldn’t get the chance to speak. You watched his face, in awe at the beauty of his expression. Although the scene was far from graceful, he managed to encase gracefulness despite the lack of it within the room. You felt the knot in your belly tighten to a point of no return, and without further warning, another orgasm washed over you. Your muscles tensed as your eyes squeezed shut, and your moans, although silenced, filled the room. Both boys were elated at your performance and were more than ready to move on to the main event.
Jake pulled back from you, letting out a sigh of discontent at the loss of the feeling. “Good to know that you can use your mouth for more than just back talk.” His voice was hoarse, strained by his own need for you. He was eager to fuck you, so much so that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.
“You want him to fuck you now, baby?” Danny asked, mouth still hovering over your cunt. If he could have his way, he’d stay between your legs all night. If it were any normal day, he would have. Your eyes flickered towards him, unsure of how to answer. “It’s okay, you can say it.” His gruff tone made him seem more confident than he truly was; in fact, this was the part he had been dreading all night. Everything that had happened so far was fine, and he was more than willing to admit that he didn’t mind sharing you at all. In the previous context, at least. He’d been struggling with the idea of Jake fucking you, and he was nervous about the possibility of you enjoying it more than you enjoyed him.
“C-can…” you trailed off, looking between them both. You were anxious to speak, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings. That was the last thing you wanted to do, especially after both of them being so good to you.
“It’s okay,” Jake said, joining in on the conversation. “Whatever you want.” You nodded, knowing that it was likely painful for him to say that. It was vicious, Jake’s need for control in the bedroom. You’d only been with him once, but you remembered it well. For Jake to take the lowest rung of the ladder and realize he had the least important opinion was likely very hard for him to comply with. But it didn’t seem like he had any disdain on his face, nor any trouble with accepting it. In truth, it didn’t bother him at all. He was just elated to be there.
“Can you fuck me?” You asked Danny, a hopeful gleam in your eye. His fear of being obsolete was diminished within a second, the question settling over him like a warm embrace.
“That’s what you want, sweet girl?” He crooned, fighting back a grin.
“Yes, please.” You assured him, the corner of your lips turning upward into a soft smile.
“We can do that,” Danny breathed, rising to his knees. “Come here.” He held his hand out for you. You took it, making a move to sit up. You shuffled to your knees and he immediately brought his hands to you, fingers dusting across your skin as he pulled you into a kiss. He was ecstatic at your question, but he didn’t have to say it for you to know. He was worried that you would rather fuck Jake, but the whole ordeal had only seemed to make you fall in love with him more. He was a phenomenal partner, one that loved with his entire heart and soul. You had nothing to ever complain or worry about with him, and the fact that he was willing to potentially risk his own comfort to give you something you wanted was something you could never expect from him. But, he had done it valiantly and with no hesitation, and he seemed to be enjoying it, too. Your guilty pleasure had opened your relationship to a whole new world of possibilities.
He pulled away, moving to the other side of the bed. “Come here,” he beckoned you towards him. You didn’t need instruction to know what he wanted from you. You kneeled in front of him with your back to him. You placed your palms on the edge of the bed, giddy with excitement. His hands took to your waist, and you looked up a Jake with a hopeful expression. The look alone could have sent him to his knees. “Are you going to be good for us, baby?” Danny asked, lining himself up with your entrance.
“Yes, daddy.” You were quick with a response, eager to continue. “So good, I promise.”
“That’s my girl,” his words came out in more of a growl. Jake took a step towards the bed, gently grabbing your face in his hands.
“You tap my leg if you want to stop.” His order was firm. “Even if you just want me to slow down. I want you to be comfortable.” His eyes showed heaps of concern as he spoke. You barely knew Jake to be caring, but perhaps in the years of lusting after you, he had grown quite fond of you. You thought it would be hard not to, even if you were a heartless creature. You wouldn’t describe Jake as heartless, but definitely careless. His affection was much different than a typical persons, but it was still phenomenal, nonetheless.
“Yes, sir.” The words sent a shiver down his spine, thrilled at the thought of fucking you again. He didn’t even care about penetration; he was more than content with the idea of your mouth for the rest of his life. Danny and Jake shared a look, both agreeing that they could continue. Without any further hesitation, Danny pushed himself into you. You let out a groan, already overwhelmed by the feeling. You didn’t have time to think much about it, because Jake had snaked his hand toward the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. He held your head in place as he brought his hips forward, resting the tip of his cock on your lips as he waited for you to open your mouth. You didn’t make him wait; your lips fell open, an invitation for him to continue as he pleased.
Danny started slow, his thrusts steady but not powerful. Jake was the same, both of them wanting you to get used to the feeling before pushing you any further. Their caution was endearing, but you were too far gone to care for it. You pushed yourself back on Danny, a silent show of your desire for more. A fire flashed in his eyes, the movement sending him into a state of ferocity. His grip on you tightened, and the power behind his hips increased. You let out a moan, the tip of his cock slamming against your cervix as he fucked you. The vibration from your moan sparked the same reaction in Jake. Both boys quickly realized that you were perfectly happy being used by them, and they were happy to utilize it. Jake held your head steady as he set a pace with his own hips, the first moment of sweetness quickly replaced by primal desire.
Jake hit the back of your throat, the feeling coming as a shock to you. Your throat constricted around him as you fought back a gag, but it only drove him further. Danny was lost in you, unable to find any more worry. He brought his hand up and landed it with a sharp smack on your ass. The lingering sting from the impact was irritating, but pleasurable all at once. Your fists were gripping the edge of the mattress, holding on tightly as you bounced back and fourth between the two. “Such a good little whore,” Jake hissed, his grip in your hair tightening further. “God, you take it so well.”
“Feel so fucking good, baby.” Danny agreed, the praise from both sides almost too much to bear. Danny reached around your waist, bringing his fingers to your already sensitive clit. He traced circles as he fucked into you, holding you firmly with his other hand so you could keep your balance. The speed at which Jake was thrusting into your mouth was almost too much to keep up with, but the beautiful sounds that he was singing were all the motivation you needed to keep up with him. Tears were stinging your eyes, falling and making a mess on your cheeks. Every so often, the urge to gag was too strong to hold back, but you persevered mostly because of the pleasure you were receiving from your boyfriend. Your skin was tingling with the threat of another climax. The release you needed was urgent, but you had no way to express it to him. Instead, you let out a slur of muffled noises in hopes that he would recognize the message.
Thankfully, Danny knew you well enough to recognize any message you were trying to convey; he could read you like a book, even in his sleep. “Cum for us, baby.” He demanded, but he was pleading with you. He couldn’t keep up the pace much longer either. His own orgasm was close, too. Jake was on the same page, noticing the state of both of you and recognizing it was similar to his own.
“Cum all over his cock, angel. Show him how good it feels.” Jake joined in on the fun of encouraging you. They had stopped viewing the night as a competition, and rather as a team effort. His words settled in your stomach like iron, the weight too heavy to withstand. He slowed his hips slightly, respectful enough to let Danny take over for a moment. Danny noticed his withdrawal, taking the opportunity to pull you back on him. As he did so, Jake pulled out of you entirely, wanting to give you two the moment of intimacy. Now, with the freedom of your voice, you let out a cry of pleasure. The moan tore through your chest, coating the walls like an obscene decoration.
“Fuck, Danny.” You croaked, unable to find the energy for anything more than that. Within seconds, you descended into another orgasm. Your limbs were trembling, threatening to give out from underneath you. Danny held you up, making sure you knew you were secure as you rode out the high. When the intensity began to fade, he slowly withdrew from you. His chest was heaving, but less from lack of oxygen and more from his carnal need for you. He caught eyes with Jake, sharing a silent thank you for his kindness in letting you two share each other for a moment.
“His turn, baby.” He spoke lowly, now understanding that he would be more than selfish to deprive Jake of an experience like that. His fear was satiated, no more anxiety about losing you or being forgotten. He was aware that there was never a need for the worry to begin with, but your performance and enjoyment spoke louder than any verbal reassurance. Jake looked to Danny as if he granted him the opportunity of a lifetime. Before anyone moved, Danny quickly glanced towards the table by your bedside. He moved towards it, rummaging through the drawer before finding a condom. He flashed it towards Jake, who reached for it with no hesitation. You were all under the same knowledge that Danny called the shots, and you were both more than willing to comply.
Jake slipped on the condom, immediately taking to you to help you stand. With his assistance, you steadied yourself on your feet. He guided your chin upwards and brought you into a kiss. Your hands landed on him, holding him to you in hopes the moment would never have to end. Years worth of pent up frustration and desire was all fizzling away to a dramatic end. When you had imagined the lifetime of torment to be over, you never thought it would be in such a fantastic way. No guilt, nor shame. It was the best possible outcome for a normally grievous situation. He parted from you, but ultimately leaned in for one more kiss. The temptation was too hard to resist. Once he managed to will himself away from you, he took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Danny moved to join you both, standing in front of you in anticipation for the next move. Jake guided you backwards towards him, slowly bringing you down to meet him on the bed. He lined himself up with you and used a hand on your shoulder to pull you down on him. Immediately, he let out a sigh of satisfaction. He had no way to express his gratitude for being granted the opportunity to have you again, so he opted to show you, instead. He used his hands on your hips to set a pace, prompting you to eventually take over. “That’s it, angel.” His mouth was just next to your ear, his breath tickling your neck. “Waited so fucking long for this.” He purred, happy when you continued to grind your hips down on him. “Be good for him, sweetheart. Treat him the same way you did for me.” He ordered, placing a kiss to your shoulder. “He’s been so good to you, letting you be a little slut. Thank him for it.” He let his teeth sink into the same spot his lips were kissing you.
The position was much more gentle than the last, allowing you to recover from the roughness. You looked up to Danny, giving him a smile that was all but sexual. It was your way of saying I love you without having to speak it. Your eyes told him all he needed to know. Danny brought his hand to your face, wiping away any tears still littering your skin. He gave you the same smile, both of you caught in a wordless conversation that was dripping with affection. Jake slipped his one of his hands to your front, fingers settling on your clit. He traced slow circles, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. His other hand came up to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it like a snake going in for a kill. You gave Danny a few innocent bats of your eyelashes, inviting him in with vulgar intent. You opened your mouth as Jake’s grip on your neck tightened. Danny moved forward, and you bent down slightly to meet him.
Danny let you set the pace, understanding that as bad as he wanted you, there was a lot of stimulation on you. You brought him into your mouth as you moved your hips on Jake. You took him as far as you could, feeling him slide down your throat. The pressure from Jake’s hand made it all the more pleasurable for Danny, the already constrained space becoming all the more apparent. Danny let out a groan as you bobbed your head down on him, gradually increasing your speed as you worked. Jakes fingers were working tirelessly at your clit, his own moans filling the air as you came down on him. He had his forehead rested on your back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he attempted focus his attention to his hands.
Jake shifted slightly underneath you, allowing him to reach a little deeper into you as you gyrated your hips. The new sensation caused a moan to tear through you. The vibration caused a stutter in Danny’s slow movements, the sensation almost bringing him to an orgasm. All three of you were desperate for a release, but both boys were aching for relief. As much as they loved pleasuring you, they were dangerously close to the edge. Your head was swimming, swirling with lack of blood-flow, which only made the pleasure all the more intense. Jake could feel you tense against him, your walls constructing around him, the feeling sending him into a frenzy. He let out a raspy moan, the sound shooting through you as motivation. You had never once imagined Jake could sound so desperate, so needy for someone or something. To know that it was for you was one of the best feelings in the world. His fingers tightened around your neck once more, the blood supply cut off completely. Danny took it upon himself to pick up his own pace, a slur of curses falling from his mouth at the tightness of your throat.
Without warning, another orgasm took hold, seizing every inch of your body. You wanted to cry out, to scream in response to the overwhelming amount of pleasure, but it was as if your brain short circuited. You couldn’t focus on a single thought; you were completely lost within both of them. Jake let out a growl, finding it near impossible to stop himself from orgasming at the sight of the state you were in. He held on just long enough for you to regain your mind, and he loosened his hold on your neck. Danny pulled back, also dangerously close to cumming. The two boys looked at each other, sharing one single coherent thought. They had no idea how they were going to end the night, and they weren’t sure if they even wanted to.
“What do you want, angel?” Jake said, holding your hips so you wouldn’t continue your movements. “How do you want us to finish?” Danny was appreciative that Jake asked, because they both knew it was in their best interest for you to decide. You lifted your head, a mess of spit decorating your chin and more tears prickling your eyes. You looked exhausted, barely able to hold yourself up, but you knew you wanted them to finish, and you knew exactly how to do it.
“I want…” you trailed off, taking a long inhale to slow the spinning in your head. “I want you both.” The boys shared a look, wide eyed and in shock at the idea.
“B-both of us?” Danny stuttered, unsure if he heard you right. “Like, to fuck you?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, unable to speak from the sheer excitement of the thought.
“Are you sure, trouble?” Jake’s comment proved that he had been yanked out of the cloud of sex, his rationality returning to him momentarily. “Don’t do it just because you think that’s what we want.”
“Im sure,” you nodded “that’s what I want.” A rush of excitement ran through both of them as they glanced at each other. Danny immediately went back to the night table, grabbing a bottle of lube from the drawer. With a small smirk on his lips, he tossed it to Jake.
“You heard her.” He said, knowing that you would never suggest it if you weren’t comfortable.
“Has she… I mean, have you?” Jake asked, still processing the request. Danny gave him a nod, answering any questions that he had with one swift motion. As if he wasn’t shocked enough, the thought settled in his bones like lead. After a few seconds, a smirk began to grow on his lips, too. “Kinky little thing,” he noted “sounds like I really missed out.” Danny’s apprehension of Jake’s smart comments had completely disappeared. This time, he found his words almost comedic. Jake helped you to your feet once more, immediately prompting you into Danny’s arms. “Guess we have to give the lady what she wants.”
Danny leaned down, placing a kiss to your lips. As he did so, he placed his hands on the back of your thighs and scooped you up as he straightened his back. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, holding on to his arms for support. Jake moved closer, his chest pressing against your back. You leaned into him, accepting his presence with warm welcome. “I’m going to go slow, okay? Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” He explained. You gave a nod, already aware of the process. After four years, you and Danny had grown quite experimental in the bedroom. The only shock was that it was somebody other than him doing it. Jake placed a few kisses to your exposed neck, starting his exploration with his hand. He started with his finger, slow and cautious in fear of making you uncomfortable. The feeling was new, something you didn’t experience all that often, but it was enjoyable. You let out a whimper, closing your eyes and eager for him to continue. Jake locked eyes with Danny, both sharing a silent agreement of comfortability.
With Jake’s support, Danny slipped his arms under your thighs as you leaned back into Jake. When Jake felt you were comfortable enough, he moved his hand to allow himself access to you. Danny used one hand to line himself up with your cunt, and Jake did the same with your ass. “Ready, baby?” Danny asked.
“Yeah,” you sighed. Danny moved first, slowly pushing inside of you. Jake was more hesitant, but gently brought his hips forward. When he didn’t hear a single utter of discomfort, he continued. When both boys were inside of you, you let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of fullness.
“This is what you wanted, angel?” Jake murmured, already victim to the pleasure. “You just wanted to be a whore for us? Let us have you however we wanted?”
“Yeah.” You gasped, pivoting your body slightly to wrap an arm around Jakes neck. Your other hand was holding Danny’s shoulder, keeping yourself anchored in place as they began to move.
“Is it everything you dreamed of, baby?” Danny asked, matching his movements with Jake’s. They weren’t moving fast, but they were pulling you down on them as they moved, increasing the pressure building in your belly.
“God, yes.” Your head fell back, lost in the feeling of both of them inside you.
“It feels so good, doesn’t it?” Jake growled, his fingers digging into your hips. “Tell us how good it feels.”
“S-so good.” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut. The feeling was transcendent, more powerful than anything you had ever experienced. “It feels so fucking good.” You couldn’t contain your moans any longer, every sound that was begging to come out did just that, painting the room with sin. It was pornographic, the scene absolutely vulgar, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The obscenity was fantastic, and you never wanted to leave the moment. If you could, you would have stayed there and fucked them for the rest of your life, just like that.
Both of the boys had been teetering the line of their own orgasms for the entire night. They had no idea they would enjoy the evening as much as they did, and they too were dreading the inevitable end. As much as they wanted to climax, they weren’t willing to do so without one last orgasm from you. “Can you give us one more, sweetheart?” Jake hissed, picking up his pace. Danny followed suit, using his strength to pull you down on them.
“You can do it, baby. I know you can.” Danny encouraged you, hopeful that you could do as they were asking. Most of it was due to his need for you to be fulfilled, but some of it was because he was scared he couldn’t hold himself back any more. “You’ve been so good for us, just keep it up for a little bit longer.”
“So proud of you, angel. Doing such a good job. Taking it so fucking good.” The combined praise was exhilarating; you had never felt so appreciated by anyone in your entire life. “One more, beautiful. I know you have it in you.” Jake pleaded.
“Fuck!” You exploded, the word followed by a guttural scream of pleasure. You couldn’t bite back the sound; it tore through you with a ferocity you had never felt before. “I’m gonna,” you assured them, a long jumble of curses flowing from your mouth, following the statement. Jakes hands were burning into you, Danny’s grip on your thighs tightening even more. They aimed to keep their movements synchronized, not wanting to jeopardize your ability to climax. The muscles in your abdomen tensed, your grip on them growing stronger as the burning in your belly reached its peak. You let out a shriek of euphoria, every nerve in your body ablaze with the relentless pleasure. You felt like you were ascending to another dimension, completely unaware of anything other than the feeling of them inside you. Your body was exhausted, and your mind was, too. You were completely fucked out, and they knew that. Before you came down, they both let go, too.
The room was filled with filthy sounds, swearing and slurs of names. The climax was intense for everyone, nobody could comprehend the emotion of the high. You all floated back to reality together, sleep calling to you before the bliss even came to an end. Euphoric was not a strong enough word to describe the feeling lingering throughout your body. After a moment of rest, both boys carefully withdrew from you. You all shuffled to the bed, Danny laying you in the nest of pillows and blankets, his body radiating with an air of love. They shared a look, scared that they might have pushed you too far, but after a moment, a smile began to creep on to your lips.
“How was that, angel?” Jake asked, hand resting on your thigh as a loving decoration.
“It was… phenomenal.” You breathed, finally able to sort your thoughts. “Just… yeah. Phenomenal.” You reiterated your point. They both let out a chuckle, happy that you were content and feeling the same way. “So, did you guys just decide this at the bar? Friendly talk over a few beers?” Their light chuckles turned into full laughter at your question.
“Think the thought was bouncing around for a while. Time was finally right.” Danny said, collapsing beside you.
“Saw that look in your eye when I brought it up, earlier. Couldn’t really resist that.” Jake added, thumb brushing over the skin that was littered with finger shaped bruises.
“I don’t mean to sound greedy… but was that a one time thing, or…?” You trailed off, finally opening your eyes to look between the two. Jake looked to Danny, knowing that he had the ultimate say in the matter. After a moment of silence, Danny gave a shrug.
“Suppose we could try it again, sometime.” He smirked. “If it would make you happy. You know I’d do anything to make you happy.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.” You confessed, a smile breaking out on your lips. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, adding a touch of humour to what would normally be an awkward moment. The aftermath should have been dripping with an uncomfortable nature, but it seemed perfectly right. There was no discomfort present at all. You rested your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. You reached your other one out to Danny, lacing your fingers together.
“I do think it’s bedtime, though.” You stated, feeling a yawn start to surface.
“Right, we did interrupt, didn’t we?” Danny asked.
“Glad you did.” You hummed.
“So, what now? Do I get to sleep in bed, too?” Jake joked.
“Not a chance.” Danny shook his head, paired with a laugh. “Sorry, man.”
“Have some hospitality,” Jake feigned offence, but his smile told the joke for him. “Couch?”
“Definitely.” You and Danny mumbled, already feeling sleep settle in your bones.
“Understood.” He stood, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Hope you’re not too sore in the morning, trouble.” He said before gathering his clothes and disappearing into the hallway. Once he was out of sight, Danny pulled you into his arms.
“I love you,” he mumbled.
“I love you.” You said, relaxing into his hold and resting your head on his chest. “More than anything.” You placed a gentle kiss to his chest. “Thank you, baby. I don’t even know how to tell you how fantastic you are.”
“Like I said, bug. Anything to make you happy.” And he meant it; if allowing you access to Jake every now and again meant that he could keep you happy and have you forever, he would. It was something he could learn to live with, because he knew deep down that Jake was just a guilty pleasure, and he was the love of your life.
A/N: Please read the warnings before starting, and please read part one before you read this part! Please please please excuse all my spelling and grammar mistakes I’m sure there are lots! My inbox is open for any thoughts, questions, concerns, or constructive criticism. Thanks! Oh and don’t skip to the end.
Part: 2. Read part 1 here.
Summary: "I meant what I said, out there on the balcony," he murmurs, "I never don't want to be your friend." or the one where… Determined on both sides, you and Jake try to put an end to your turmoil. However, something blooms in the midst of your efforts.
Word count: 19k+
Warnings: smoking, weed, alcohol use, strong language, allusions to sex, pining pining pining, slight angst, miscommunication, etc.
✿ ✿ ✿
Avoiding it was difficult. Admitting it was just as hard.
Sam knows, Josh too, Danny even. They all know, and neither of you will let up. You're both too stubborn.
So incredibly, terribly, stubborn.
So stubborn, you don't even classify each other as friends. A month in, a month of hanging out when you can, looking forward to seeing each other, texting late at night, smiling when you see the messages, and still, not friends.
So stubborn, that when you are out with everyone else, you won't talk to each other, you won't let others see you interact like that. There was something mildly awkward about it. Everyone knows and is expecting it, yet you won't give it to them.
Part of you thinks it's nice, wanting to stay private with Jake, not wanting to showcase a friendship like that. But, at the same time, it's weird. Especially when everyone is waiting for it. Because everyone knows.
And you just won't admit it.
"It would be so much easier if you just admitted you're friends."
Jake settles back into his chair, looking out into the evening sky with his beer in hand. It was normal for him to space out, get lost in a thought and think deeply about it. He'd been doing it a lot lately, and his mind often became filled with you.
Josh sits nearby with his cigarette, puffing it and flicking the ash. He noticed early on how smitten Jake had gotten, how he almost seemed to have softened a little. A happier look in his eyes, brighter glow on his face. How he looks on stage sometimes, he looks that way a lot now. Particularly so after a meeting with you.
Josh adjusts his position and sits up, leaning in so his elbows are resting on his knees and looks seriously up at Jake, quietly asking, "Are you two hooking up?"
Immediately he's snapped back to reality, frowning deeply at his brother and fiercely shaking his head, "What the fuck? No?"
Josh leans back with his hands up in defense, "I don't know, sorry I asked. You two seem like an item but refuse to be friends so..."
"Fine, we're friends." Jake mutters, sipping from the can and setting it down, "Just get the 'told you so's over with, please."
He chuckles at that, shaking his head and putting the cigarette out, "Not going to do that. But, if you all really are friends, I wanna see you actually talk to her next time we go out. Or do you all have some pact that forces you to stay a certain amount of distance from each other in public settings?"
Come to think of it, there was really no discussion about this with you. No agreement to still avoid each other in front of everyone else. It just sort of happened on its own, and Jake's realizing that it is pretty weird. Are you really friends if you're embarrassed about it? Maybe that's why neither of you will admit it. He frowns to himself, thinking it all over.
Are we even really friends then?
He thinks it over, thinking of all the normal friendship things he can. Talking often, seeing each other, enjoying each other's company, telling each other anything and everything. Maybe that last one is a best friend thing, and you two aren't quite at that level yet. That's where you and Sam are.
Except, you haven't been telling him exactly everything lately. He asks about what you and Jake do and of course you tell him, but certain bits are left out. Like, how when he took you bowling a week back, he made you play in the arcade afterwards and won you Betty Boop plush from the claw machine. Or, at the bar, when you ordered a margarita and the tender was generous with the tequila, so he stole your straw and had a sip. Then there was when you went record shopping and you shared the headset to listen to a Stephen Stills record together. Leant in closely, your hand holding one muff while his held the other, and the backs of them pressed together while Love the One You're With played.
How on earth could you tell Sam any of that? How could you tell anyone any of that?
So you don't.
A tiny secret bubbled up inside of you. All those sparks and butterflies fill it up and sometimes you're certain it will burst. There have been close calls, but you're good at keeping it undercover.
"So, you and Jake." He says and it makes you groan every time, "I'm just wondering..."
"We are friends okay. We get along." You huff, standing in line outside the venue.
He scoffs, "I would have never guessed it from the way you all act in front of everyone."
You both step forward as the line flows in, "What d'you mean?"
"Oh, I mean..." he trails off, crossing his arms and looking away from you before glancing back and looking quickly away again. You get the picture, and it makes you shove his arm lightly.
"Yeah, alright, whatever."
"It's like you all are fuckin scared of each other now," he laughs, holding his arm where you hit him, "you're allowed to look at him, at least."
You mumble, "I know." That's the problem. You can never just look at Jake anymore. You know there's a gleam in your eye now, one of admiration. You don't even deny your small liking of him, one that's more than just a friendly like.
"So why don't you?" He asks.
"I don't know." You shrug. "He doesn't look at me."
"That's not true." He frowns and shakes his head, stopping with you when the line pauses. You look up at him as he continues, "If anything, he looks only at you."
You blush, so you look away, and he smirks, but he leaves it at that. No need to downright embarrass you. But, for the rest of the night, you remind yourself of that phrase.
Only at me? Well, that just can't be true. Can it?
That following Friday you meet Jake outside the jazz club he suggested you check out together. The truth is he's been here before, and he likes it, and he has his fingers crossed that you will too. When you walk down the sidewalk, he doesn't recognize you for a second, and his eyebrows raise when he realizes that it's you in the tight, black, midi dress and heels walking towards him.
"Whoa," he holds his hands out, looking you over.
You swat your hand at him teasingly, scrunching your nose at his reaction, "Shut it, no compliments. I got far too many on the walk over here."
He smirks as you move some of your hair out of your eyes, your makeup flawless, and even your nails done. He cleaned up nice for tonight too. A fresh shave and his hair tucked into a neat knot at the base of his head, hidden beneath one of his wide brimmed hats which matches his blazer. Even for a formal event, Jake leaves a few buttons undone to showcase his necklaces, and he's still not too good for a pair of jeans.
However, you both look good. You both look good together.
"We make a pretty pair," he smiles, taking your hand in his and not giving you time to react as he swiftly leads you to the entrance, "a pretty late pair at that. You fashionably late?"
"Traffic," you murmur, adjusting your hold on his hand, letting yourself enjoy the warm yet rough feel of it for a moment, "plus, I can't drive in heels."
"I could have picked you up." He hums, leading you down the dimly lit hall, the sounds of saxophone and bass humming through the walls.
This all feels so casually romantic, like you two have spoken like this, touched like this, forever. Even that tone from him is one you have never heard from him before. Casually romantic. Maybe that's what this is...
"And spoil your surprise?" Well that came out differently than you expected.
He looks back at you with an open mouthed, boyish smile of shock, stopping to turn, repeating back, "Surprise?"
His face gives away his thoughts, which cannot be just friend-friendly.
You swallow thickly, staying as cool as you can while you remove your hand from his and flick your hands down your figure, as if to showcase yourself. You were alluding to your recreation of Sandra Bullock's slow-motion walking in Miss Congeniality for him on the street, and it makes a smirk spread on his lips.
He steps forward, being bold with the few inches that separates you two, and quietly asks, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"
You almost lick your lips, then remember your lipstick and stop yourself, staring back into his brown eyes as your chest rises and falls with your uneven breaths. Finding your voice, you shake your head and breathe your reminder back, "I said no compliments."
"Right," he nods, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes study you.
You realize he has the thickest eyelashes and the prettiest pair of lips. He's so close, you can count sun-stained freckles and see faint acne scars from his adolescent years, a time you didn't know Jake Kiszka but you're sure even in your youth you would have dammed yourself by choosing to hate Jake first before loving him. You're so close to him he can see the shimmer on your eyelids, can smell your perfume. It's a new one, he's sure, perfect for the summertime heat. Fresh, citrusy, spicy. It could draw him in if he closed his eyes and forgot that you're standing in the middle of the hall.
And so he continues to lead the way after softly murmuring, "We're already late enough anyway."
Even though he didn't say it, it leaves you blushing. Just the question itself, asking you if he'd told you that you're beautiful. In of itself, that's a compliment. He thinks you look beautiful tonight; he told you within the question.
But there's nothing else exchanged, he just leads you into the bar and finds a table for two near the back that you claim as yours. Like a gentleman he pulls out your chair and you sit down, and he then softly touches your shoulder and heads over to grab some drinks. You find yourself watching him order rather than the band. Watching isn't the right word though. Your hands clasped and being used as a rest for your chin, a summering smile on your lips and your chest growing warm. This is admiring.
It isn't until he begins walking back, you stop yourself, and pretend that you've been absorbed in the pianist's solo the entire time. He felt your eyes on him though, and he sets the drink he picked out in front of you. You look at it, then up at him with a raised brow, watching him settle into the chair across the table.
He looks back at you with a smirk as he sips the brown liquor in his glass, undoubtedly whiskey of some sort. You lean forward and ask jokingly through the music, "This isn't spiked, is it?"
"It's literally an alcoholic beverage, Y/N." He murmurs back into his glass.
You roll your eyes, hand grabbing your glass and bringing it to your lips as you ask, "Well, yeah, but you didn't poison it?"
An older man nearby, with a funny tie and receding hairline, glances back at you with a glare. You sink sheepishly into your chair, silencing yourself with a sip. Jake frowns at the grump as he turns away and then decides to stretch his leg over to hook his ankle around the leg of your chair. Then, effortlessly and silently, he tugs you and your chair over to him and smoothly drapes his arm across the back of it, the two of you facing the small stage together.
"It isn't poisoned, by the way." He speaks low, only loud enough for you to hear.
You smile into your glass and nod, whispering back, "Figured."
You look down at his hand holding the whiskey glass against his inner thigh, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. Then, turning, you look down at where his free hand dangles off the back of your chair. So close to touching you but not. Part of you wishes he would.
"Now we can talk without getting noise complaints." His voice calls you back.
You smile, looking downward at your lap then up to him, "Maybe we should just listen to the music."
He watches you as you look back up to the lit stage, and he doesn't look away for a few seconds. His hand, the one dangling to your left, contemplates touching your shoulder. It lifts and stalls, his fingers stretching then curling into his palm, before he decides to set it back down. He turns his head and looks at the floor, then lifts it up and gazes at the band, doing as you say, and listening to the music with you.
He's been here before, seen this band before, but tonight, for some reason, the music sounds especially good. He decides it's because he's there with you.
From the corner of your eye, you can see him tap his foot to the beat, his head nodding along just barely. It makes you smile, subconsciously tilting your head towards his, leaning closer to him. Jake can never sit still in general, put him in a room with music though and all efforts fly out the window. You can't deny a good beat either though, and your hands clap with the crowd after a mean trumpet solo that leaves you with goosebumps. Jake brings his fingers to his lips and lets out an appreciative whistle before laying his arm back on your chair, his hand brushing your shoulder, before finally resting there.
Like a pair of kids, you both flush and bite back smiles, over the moon that he's just touching you, and you're letting him. And like angsty teens you both act like it's no big deal. And like adults, you slowly look over at each other, and share a smile.
Mature, grown-ups. It's as if there never was a grudge to begin with.
The show comes to an end, and the venue stays open all night with more sets and bands and acts, but the two of you head outside. It's only 9 o'clock, and Jake could stay out all night, but he knows you prefer nights in anyway, how you enjoy yourself better one on one rather in a large crowd or a group. Early on he discovered that when he's with you, he likes it just being you and him. No pressure, no eyes, just you with him, and him with you.
"What did you think?" He asks, leaning back against the brick of the building. Jazz enthusiasts make their way inside as he digs into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out a pack.
You nod with a thoughtful smile, "It was cool. Never expected you to be so into jazz."
He shrugs his shoulders, pulling a cigarette out and placing it between his lips. Looking up at you, he raises his brows and shakes the package, silently offering you one which you shake your head at. A smirk appears on his lips, tucking the cigarettes back into his pocket and fishing out a lighter. You watch him silently as he takes a puff and exhales the smoke away from you.
"You know what Josh asked me the other day?" He asks, his eyes looking down at the sidewalk. Your eyes linger on his cigarette, so he extends his two fingers out to you and you hesitantly take it, taking a drag from it.
"What?" You blow the smoke past your lips as you reply, taking another inhale before giving it back.
His lips crack into a grin that makes your stomach flip, voice deep with a chuckle, "He said this, okay? Not me."
"What is it?" You step forward with your own interested smile.
Josh says a lot of things, you wonder what crazy idea or thought popped into his head this time.
He bites his lip, telling you, "He asked if we were hooking up."
Your eyes widen and out of nervousness, you let out an unattractive cackle. Head tilted back, eyes shut, mouth hanging open, you hope that your display of amusement disguises your shock. He breathes out through his nose in a laugh, bringing his cigarette back to his lips and sucking on the end of it, watching you laugh.
When you look back at him, catching your breath, you sigh out the one word, "Never."
Ignoring the gentle pang he feels in his heart, he nods along, "Well that's what I said."
God why does that make your own heart chip?
You go along with it, "Why would he even ask that? I mean, we're friends."
He shrugs, "He doesn't think men and women can just be friends, I guess. Which makes no sense... he also said something about having never seen us interact in public." You stick your hand out, silently asking for the cigarette which he raises his brow at and tilts his head, "Don't get greedy with it now."
Your nose scrunches up and he finally passes it back to you, and you softly mumble, "Why does he have to see us interact?"
"He's a psycho." Jake mumbles, making you giggle and place the cig in your mouth. He watches your lips pucker and the smoke float out past your lips. He wets his own lips with a swipe of his tongue before saying, "I may have also agreed to give him exactly what he wants though."
Your eyebrows pull together, "Which is?"
"An interaction."
"Oh, Jesus Christ..." you mutter, turning away from him with the cigarette.
"Hey," he follows, stepping around you so you're face to face again, his hands reach out and hold your upper arms, "it's not a big deal."
"I know it's not," you sigh, looking down the street at the headlights on cars that pass, "it's not a big deal for us, it's not a big deal in general. It's just the fact that it's a big deal to him."
"I figured if we just go ahead and give him what he wants, we can shut him up," his hands fall from you just as you finish off the cigarette, "he loves to tease."
"So does Sam." You mumble and drop the butt to the sidewalk and like a gentleman he steps on it.
You think back to the night you went out with him, how he looked at you with knowing eyes. So much like Jake's, but so different.
"What does he say?" He asks, and you shrug.
"He's just... very observant." You decide is the best way to describe him, "Your brothers have perceptive eyes."
"And what does he observe?" His voice is low, smooth and soft. Warm. Tender. Sweet. Etcetera.
It makes you cheeks warm and you look to him before away once more, "He says we act like we're scared of each other. At least when we're in a group."
"I'm not scared of you." He shakes his head, stepping forward.
"I know," you hum and finally, actually, look at him, "but apparently that's how we behave."
"So," he steps back, crossing his arms and leaning his weight to the side, "we are terrified of each other while simultaneously sleeping together?"
You laugh, and overhead thunder softly sounds but neither of you notice it, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Apparently."
He smiles and returns closer to you, it's like your laughter is a magnet, and he says with a softened voice, "We don't owe anyone anything, but let's just try next time we all go out together, yeah? Prove them wrong."
"Oh, anything to debunk Samuel."
The two of you end up lingering outside together a little longer. The conversation revolving around how you're going to stage this interaction and when as clouds gather overhead. He makes you laugh, coming up with obnoxious scenarios such as what you should do if Willie Nelson shows up or if perhaps it starts to snow ice cream.
"What flavor?" You joke along.
He pretends to think it over, "Mint chocolate chip."
"Oh right, of course."
"You know," he sighs contentedly as he leans back against the lamppost behind him, "we have really good conversations."
You can't help the laugh that escapes you, "Yes, our talks about ice cream snow are super intelligent."
He rolls his eyes with a smile dangling on his lips and he waves you off, "You know what I mean."
"Do I?" You tease once again.
You do though. You know exactly what he means. You can have these talks with Jake that will leave you buzzing afterward. That will cast a semipermanent smile on your lips for the rest of the day. That will make you get in your car and instead of playing music, you just replay the conversation over and over in your mind.
He grunts as he pushes himself away from the post and comes forward, "I don't know. I feel like when we talk, we talk for hours, even if it's just a few minutes. And when we get done talking, I don't want it to stop."
Your lips part as you look up him. You'd laugh out of nervousness if you could, but it's those same nerves are causing you to stand there silently. Slow thunder rolls again and it goes ignored just as the first time.
"Oh," you nod, taking in how close he is to you, "yeah. I get that."
His mouth hooks upward as he stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, "I also wanted to talk to you about something."
You're slightly lost in a Jake Kiszka mist, his eyes making your brain dance all hazy, and you let out a soft, "Mhm?"
"Are you busy next weekend?"
You shake your head.
"You don't have to say yes or anything, but, I've been wanting to go up to the cabin. I remember how much you enjoyed it that one time with all of us, you wanna go again?" He asks, a hopefulness in his voice, his bottom lip caught between his pretty teeth.
You weren't expecting that, honestly, but it makes your eyebrows raise with excitement, and immediately you nod your head, "Yes. Oh my gosh, yes. I love the mountains."
You recall the spring before last, when you made the trip to the smokies with your group and how much fun you had. Despite Jake being there, you two kept your distance that time, but now you're sure it will be even better. With all your friends, him included. You could hardly wait.
"Everyone else will be there?" You ask, watching as he scratches the back of his neck and looks down at his shoes.
He mumbles under his breath, "...No."
"Oh," you speak like a bubble being burst. Quick. Light. Popped. Oh. "Wait, so, just us?"
He shrugs, and slowly nods his head, "If you're okay with that."
"I just," your head moves side to side as you search for the right words to say, "I mean, I am, but what will everyone else think?"
"They don't have to know." His words come out in a hushed whisper, as if to prove his point of this being a secret.
It makes you smile, how impossible this sounds. You both being out of town at the same time. Jake at the cabin and you... where? What will the lie be? And when you get back how will you cover it up? Not to mention, what will occur on this weekend tucked away in a wooden cabin with just Jake?
You tilt your chin up to him, "Do you have a plan?"
"I do, actually." He grins.
"What's your plan, Jake?" You hum.
He likes your voice when you talk like that. Quite a lot.
Sucking in a deep breath, he tells you, "I'll be going to a guitar convention, and you'll be visiting family."
"How convenient we'll both be out of town for the same amount of time." You can't help but giggle at the madness of it all, "And what if we get caught? What if Josh or Sam decides to pay the cabin a little visit? Hm?"
"Then we're caught," he shakes his head as he talks, "they'll catch just two friends spending time together in the mountains. Nothing more."
Nothing more.
He's right. It really is nothing more than that. So you begin to nod in agreement then slowly tilt your head to the side. The eyes you give him make his heart thump, why must you look at him so sweet? You're both so caught up in your conversation that you don't realize raindrops have begun to sprinkle here and there.
"So, if we're friends, we really shouldn't have to come up with a lie then, right?"
Wind passes through you two as he nods and says, "They'd never believe us anyway."
Because who would? People passing by right now probably wouldn't even guess that you two are just friends. Just friends don't dress up and go to jazz bars. Just friends don't stand so close on the sidewalk. Just friends don't look at each other how you're looking right now. And just friends most definitely do not run off to the mountains alone together for a weekend.
So yes, you can claim you and Jake are friends, but are you really?
Yes, we are. You're determined to prove them all wrong. He is a friend that I have a crush on.
He watches your eyes turn. Once starry, full of admiration, now stubborn. He wonders what you're thinking about.
However, all thoughts, both in your mind and his, come to a halt when fat, cold drops of rain splatter on your arm, and by the time you both look up, a downpour has occurred. The two of you start to walk down the sidewalk, but quickly pick up the pace to a jog as lightning flashes and rain soaks you.
He goes to turn into the parking lot behind the building, but you keep going straight, so he stops, "Where are you going?!"
You turn to him, squinting through the thick rain and yelling back over the sound of it, "To my car?"
"Get in mine." He grabs your wet hand in his, pulling you into the parking lot. "You had to park down the block, huh?"
You jog in step with him, hands still interlocked, "Two blocks actually."
He wheezes out a laugh, and you look over at him. His hat helps him out immensely, but everywhere else he's soaked. You on the other hand, have no protection, and your makeup and hair are ruined. The wind picks up, the fabric of your clothes sticks to your bodies, and Jake's hat flies off into a puddle. You let go, and chase after it.
"It's just a hat!" He in turn chases after you now.
"It's your hat!" You laugh, totally unbothered by the fact that your clothes are soaked down to your skin.
You pick it up and turn back, running with him the rest of the way. He quickly unlocks his car and opens the passenger side door for you, slamming it shut once you're sat down. Sitting there in the silence, you listen to your panting breaths and the sound of rain hitting the car's windshield and roof as you watch him jog around the front. You look down at the hat pinched between your fingers and try not to think too hard.
It takes everything in you not to look at your reflection in the sun visor mirror. Takes everything in you to ignore the way your dress hugs you even tighter now.
The sound of rain hitting pavement bursts through the doorway as he gets in and shuts the door behind him, slouching in his seat and sighing out as his eyes shut. You look over at him, subtly admiring his profile. How... sensual he looks. Soaked, hair sticking to his scalp and the side of his face. Water droplets stream down his cheeks and neck, disappearing beneath the material of his shirt. His lips are parted so he can get his heavy breaths in and out easily. The sound of his panting...
You press his hat against his chest, and it makes him open his eyes and look down at it with chuckle. It makes you smile, the deepness of it, and your hand tingles when his fingertips brush over the back of it as he takes the accessory from you. Sitting back, you expect him to place it in the backseat, but instead, he sets it on your head, running his fingertip along the brim of it and sitting back. Taking his time admiring you.
"There we go." He murmurs, looking you over shamelessly.
You know you don't look as put together as you did earlier, but you can tell that he doesn't mind. In fact, maybe he even likes how you look now better. Skin shiny from the water, makeup runny, hair damp beneath his hat, and the slight chill in the air causing goosebumps to rise. His eyes should warm you up, with how they are just blazing over every inch of you, but if anything, it makes a shiver roll up your spine. You notice when they linger at your chest, and of course it's because your nipples have hardened in the cold.
"You don't want your hat?" You whisper, though you don't know why.
You should speak up with the rain clanging against the metal, but you don't. It's as if you don't want to raise your voice in a moment like this. So close to him, yet not close enough. Close enough to whisper, but not for a kiss.
"It kind of suits you." He hums, "Like a crown."
Your lips twist in an effort to hide your flustered smile. What a vague way- or maybe just a Jake way- to call you a princess, or perhaps a queen. Queen is what he's going for, he knows he would have said tiara if he wanted to compare you to a princess. To him though, you look regal. Something close to a fearless leader that just got down with battle. There's a softness to it too, it's your gentle smile and shining eyes.
"Well, I won't steal your finest helmet, Sir Jacob. Perhaps you can loan me an aged one instead." You take it off, much to his dismay, and set it carefully in your lap.
He smirks at your show of a cockney accent, nodding softly, speaking just as soft, "I'll see what I can spare."
While waiting out the rain, the two of you sit and talk about dumb stuff. A new sushi house that opened nearby, how your favorite grocery store rearranged everything so you can't ever find what you need, what eyeliner he's been testing out for the stage. You tell him you'll help him practice and he says he'll hold you to it. You hope he does. Then, the rain lets up, and it slightly disappoints you both, because you know that means your talking time is over.
While he drives you drag out the conversation as much as you can, and he smiles and nods at every word you say until he slows and stops beside your car. You sigh and look over at him.
"I know what you mean, what you said earlier." Your blink softly at him as you lean your head back against the headrest.
"What?" He hums.
"How when we get done talking, I don't want it to stop. I wish I could talk to you forever sometimes." What the confession.
His lips twitch, and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes, "Just me?"
"I said sometimes." You sit up, unbuckling your seatbelt, running a hand through your knotted hair as you joke, "Don't let your ego skyrocket."
"Oh, my heart," he sets his hand on his chest as you open your door with a laugh, "it hurts. You broke it."
You glance over your shoulder as you get out, "Bye, Jake."
"Hey," he says just before you shut the door, making you look back with a confused stare. He leans his elbow on the center console and looks up at you with a toothy grin, slowly saying with his voice deep and soft, "you look beautiful."
You snort, making his grin widen, "I said no complimenting," and add in a teasing, airy voice before shutting the door, "stop hitting on me Kiszka."
He watches you through the rain-streaked window as you get in your car and wave goodbye to him through yours. He smiles and waves back, before driving off. How he's going to last two whole days alone with you? Fuck if he knows.
And these are the moments where you wish someone else knew. You wish you could call someone as soon as you're alone in your car and squeal into the phone with excitement. You wish you could have them sit on your bed as you pack your bag for the weekend in the mountains. To share that excitement with someone, that's all you want.
But this is a secret, and it has been for a while.
So instead you drive home with the biggest grin on your face, listening to your favorite music, and skipping up the steps to your front door. Your neighbors must think you're insane, dancing as you unlock the door in your soaked dress and wet hair. As soon as you're inside, just like in the movies, you close the door, lean back against it and slide down to the floor with a happy sigh.
Next weekend couldn't get here soon enough.
Packing was relatively easy, you imagine you'll go hiking, so comfy clothes is a must. From your sock drawer, you toss a few pairs into your duffel, and then a sports bra before your eyes linger towards the back of the drawer. Silk and lace and chiffon. Tiny scraps of fabric that are strictly reserved for those especially special moments. Is this weekend special?
No. Because he is your friend. This isn't special, this is normal. It feels so wrong to call anything you do with Jake not special, as if it's unimportant. This weekend is so important to you, time with Jake is always important. He is important.
You slam the drawer shut and turn away from it, zipping up your packed bag and setting it on the floor at the foot of your bed. How are you ever going to prove to Josh and Sam that you're just friends if you're contemplating packing a matching set for Jake?
That night you can hardly sleep though, thoughts of Jake and the excitement in your stomach for this weekend keeping you awake. In the morning, you're greeted outside by Jake and his car, and a coffee in your cup holder,
"Thank you." You sigh, sinking into your seat as you click your seatbelt and take a sip.
He grins over at you as he puts the car into drive and starts down the road, "Thanks for agreeing to be locked up with me for a weekend."
"Hmm, you act like we aren't obsessed with each other." Your lip catches against the lid of your to-go cup. "This weekend is going to be fantastic."
He smiles softly as he keeps his eyes ahead of him, both hands on the wheel, careful with you in the passenger seat. You take note of it too, how he obeys all traffic laws, uses his turn signal, slows down at the turns.
"Cross your fingers for good weather," he says pointing a finger towards the overcast sky, "might rain a little."
You shrug, because honestly, you could get snowed in and you'd be fine with it, because you'd be snowed in with Jake. You couldn't think of a more perfect position you'd rather be in honestly. Hours alone with him, ages to just talk and talk and talk. That's all you've ever wanted to do with him, talk late into the night without a worry about having to put it to an end.
In the couple of hours it takes for you all to get there, you do just that: talk. Chatting about whatever has been going on recently, music, work. You point out interesting sights you see out your window, he reads all the weird bumper stickers he sees out loud. Even climbing up the mountain, you softly talk about random things. Then, he pulls onto the gravel driveway outside the log cabin and parks the car.
"Well that was fast." You breathe out a laugh, not even realizing it had been roughly two hours on the road.
"I need to bring you on tour with us," he jokes, opening his door and stepping out, of course jogging around to your door and opening it before you get the chance to do it yourself, "talking with you makes road-trips feel like teleportation."
You scoff as you stand up and he shuts your door. However the thought of you going away, further, with him, it makes your stomach turn. You'd love it, you'd love to see Jake in a new city, out of his element, somewhere far away. You probably wouldn't even feel homesick, as long as he's at your side.
He retrieves both your bags as well as his guitar case, refusing to let you carry your own, because of course he's a gentleman even to his friends, and gives you the honor of unlocking the front door. When you do, you step in and open the door fully for him, and he sets your bags down by the door which swings shut.
The cabin is just as cozy as it's always been. Nothing too extravagant, a quaint little place with the best view. You always took the bedroom off the back of the cabin so when you wake up you would see the mountains, and you plan on dropping your bag off in there later. But right now, the two of you walk towards the back balcony so you can check out the sight together.
He sets his palms on the banister, taking a deep inhale and exhale as he scans the landscape. Mountains for miles, now uncovered from their foggy mist in the afternoon. Normal people would be enjoying the view, you can't take your eyes off him though.
"Is there something on my face?" He asks, catching you in the act of staring.
"No? No." You look away quickly, pretending to absorbed by the range. You should be, this is gorgeous. But Jake Kiszka is gorgeous too, so then again, what makes the mountains so special?
He doesn't really mind your wandering eyes, honestly. Actually, he quite likes the attention.
In the distance, you spot the darkened clouds Jake warned you about earlier, and it makes you straighten your posture and nod towards them. He looks and sees them too, giving you a small nod of acknowledgment.
"Seems like we almost always get rained out." He chides softly.
You nod, looking at the balcony, the rocking chairs out here, the small table for two. You picture yourself drinking coffee out here in the morning, and in the vision, Jake is sitting there with you.
"Maybe it won't last long."
Soon after, you retreat inside, because the torrential downpour begins. While you stare out at the rain, watching the fog roll in with it, Jake steps around in the kitchen, whipping something up for lunch. You get mesmerized by the white clouds that appear, so close you could almost touch them if you stretched your arm out enough. Thunder makes you step away from the glass, and instead join Jake at the counter.
There are worse places you could be, and you honestly couldn't imagine a better situation to be stuck in. Rained in by a storm just with Jake. It makes you think back to last weekend when he grabbed your hand and ran with you to his car, how he looked at you in his passenger seat and watched you through rain-streaked car windows.
Using the back of his finger, he slyly slides a plate in front of you, grabbing your attention that was staring out the window above the sink. Sam had told plenty of times that Jake is a fantastic cook, and Jake himself has prided himself in that too, but always thought they were over exaggerating it. Looking down in front of you though, you're pleasantly surprised by the dish presented.
A neat sandwich on some sort of fancy looking bread, is that brioche? Then beside it, a small, finely cut selection of fruits. Strawberry, kiwi, mango, and grapes. You look over to him with a small smile, and he sheepishly keeps his eyes away from yours.
"You spoil me." You say, hands moving down to grab your plate, "Can we watch the rain as we eat?"
He looks up and nods, grabbing his own, leading the way towards the two chairs by the window with the side table in between them. You both lean over your arm rests as you eat together, eyes trained on the rain. It isn't going to be stopping any time soon, in fact, it's coming down harder and harder. The wind howls, thunder booms, rain pounds against the roof.
"Sorry it's keeping us cooped up." He sighs after finishing off his lunch, slouching into his seat.
You wave it off, "Rain up here is different from rain in Nashville."
He nods, then asks, "You're not tired of me yet?"
You breathe out a quick laugh, shaking your head as you stand and take his plate, setting it on top of yours, "No, you kidding?"
He sits up, watching you walk away. It was fun being with you here, just with you. It was... interesting watching you walk around. Bare feet padding against the wood floor, in comfy shorts and an oversized t-shirt, talking to him so casual, taking his plate for him after he made lunch for you. He wants to make dinner and breakfast for you too, eat it with you, maybe even surprise you with a tray in bed.
Domesticity, it's something he's never set his sights on for too long. But with you, like this, with him, he doesn't want to imagine life any of their way.
After setting the plates in the sink, you look at him over your shoulder, "I'm gonna go claim my bedroom."
"Claim?" He scoffs, now standing up to grab his own things from the doorway.
"Yeah, I have my favorite room."
"The room off the back."
You look up at him as you bend down to grab the handles of your bag. Then, holding eye contact, you slowly stand up straight and nod your head.
He remembers, because before you came along to their friend group, that was always his room. Josh and Sam teased him relentlessly for it, how Y/N stole his bed, but Jake would never confront you about it. It seemed unnecessary, and honestly you never talked to each other anyway, so he had no idea how to bring it up. However, now, well, now he can do something about it.
"You don't want the master?" He asks.
You shrug, raising a brow at him, "Don't you?"
"Well, I do like the view in that one room..."
Both your eyebrows raise, "Jake, don't tell me you want to take my bedroom."
"Yours?" A grin crawls across his face, the right side of his mouth hitched up higher than the left, "I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, dear."
Your face softens as you come to the realization, that's not your room. It never was, but Jake let you have it for some reason. Now, it seems, he wants it back.
Also, dear? You'd ask why that makes your pulse quicken, but you know why. It's a mixture of his voice and smile and eyes. His eyes, looking at you. His smile, beaming at you. His voice, talking to you.
"You can take it." The way your voice comes out almost breathlessly pitched leaves you embarrassed, but it's a good thing that you're already heading down the hall anyway.
It's convenient that the master bedroom is just across the hall from your usual spot, Jake's old usual spot. When you get inside you shut the door, just needing a half a second of privacy to catching your breath as you flip face down onto the mattress. He let you take his fucking bedroom this whole time, and you didn't even know.
You take your time laying there, assessing it all. How slightly embarrassing it, how slightly irritating it is. Because, yes that's his room but shit you love that view. Hey, at least you have the en-suite bathroom! You lift your head and look over at the door leading to the shower and toilet before dropping it back to the quilt.
How would you feel a year ago, hell even a few months ago, about that? Knowing you got excited to sleep in the room that was deemed Jake's, knowing you slept in that bed that was his. You wonder if all the times they came up here without you, he still took that room, or did he see it as tainted by you?
He walks into his bedroom, setting his bag down and looking around. Immediately, he steps toward the window, placing his hands on the sill and gazing outside. While you lay in contemplation, Jake admires the view without a second thought. It wasn't as big of a deal to him for some reason.
Rolling over onto your back, you reach your hands over your head and stretch, blinking at the ceiling before sitting up. Might as well get a few things tidy in here for the evening, who even knows what the rest of today will hold. When you're finished setting everything away and giving yourself a mini pep talk in the mirror, you head back out to the living area.
The sound of light strumming draws you in close, and as you step into the room, you spot Jake hunched over his acoustic guitar. You approach him from behind as he sits on the couch, playing some melody, you're not sure what. Perhaps a new song, or something that just popped into his head.
As you round the couch, he lifts his head and smiles when he sees you. His strumming doesn't even stumble for a second, keeps playing as though nothing as interrupted him at all, and it nearly puts you in a trance. You sit down at the seat diagonal from him, watching his wrist move up and down, and then flicking your vision over to his left hand. His fingers move skillfully over the strings, not a single flinch from him. You know your fingertips would be screaming, but he does it all so effortlessly.
How? Literally, how?
He grins, "Enjoying the serenade?"
You nod your head, then tilt it with a coy smile, "Don't you have to be singing in order for it to be a serenade?"
He purses his lips to the side with a shake of his head and a shrug, "No, I don't think so. I don't sing."
"Not even for me?" You hum in a teasing tone, but there's a hint of a hopeful lilt in it.
Truth is, you would love to hear Jake sing. Josh of course was blessed with the vocal cords of an angel, but you'd imagine Jake would bestow that talent as well. Even just a little humming, you'd enjoy.
He licks his lips, contemplating it for a second, then shaking his head and wrapping up the guitar playing. You pout softly when it's finished and he sets his guitar aside, you've never seen Jake play like that before. Just for you.
Wondering when you'll get to experience it again leaves you disappointed in its absence, so you get up and join him on the couch.
"What now?" You ask, watching as he glances out the window and back to you.
He smiles softly, "I guess our options are limited."
"What, no hiking in the monsoon?"
He shakes his em head at you, grin widening, "I didn't pack my rain boots."
You take a sigh and lay your head back, "Looks like we're stuck." Slowly, you turn to look at him, softly adding, "I don't mind though."
He hopes you can't also feel his heart skip a beat, or maybe he does. Maybe he wants you to know... do you know? Does he... know? His face grows hot, and spreads across his entire body to the point where he's sure he looks a little red.
You notice the blush, and it makes you wonder yourself. Does he?... There's no way. There has to be no way, because you're friends.
The couch is too small. The room is shrinking. Everything is too close, and you can't get away. You're not sure if you necessarily want to, but, it's Jake.
"Do you..." his voice trails off and he finds himself stumbling over his own feet as he stands, walking quickly to the kitchen, "uh, I'm getting water."
"You do that!" You breathe out a laugh before getting up and speed walking down the hall, "I have to use the bathroom! Haha!" You basically slam the door shut behind you, your breathing uneven and your face flushed. "What the fuck?"
With both his hands planted on the counter he stares down the drain in the sink, mind racing. She does, she has to. She... likes me? But then come those other thoughts, the same thoughts you're having now in the bathroom, but what if I'm just overthinking it?
Simultaneously, in an effort to snap out of it, you both splash water onto your faces and gasp for air as you stand up. Thunder rolls, and the lights flicker, once, twice, gone.
"Shit!"
"Hey, hey Josh. I said hi. Hello?" He paces back and forth over the rug in the now dimly lit living room, and you can't help but watch with a smirk. This was all so ridiculous. "Yeah, no. Yeah I can hear you. Wait, no I can't. Hold on..." he looks at you with a frenzied grin and slips out onto the balcony, hoping that he'll get better service there, but it seems to not do the trick. You watch him through the windows as he pulls his phone away and end the call, setting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath.
So badly, you just want to go out there with him, place your hands in his tense shoulders, and relax them. Wind your arms around his waist from behind and hold him to you, feel his hands touch yours and press your ear to his back, listening to him let out a deep exhale. You want him to tell you all his worries, all his thoughts that stress him. Want to know all his secrets until there are none left and it's just him. Until you just know him and love him for all he is.
Wait, what?
"No connection?" Your voice hardly wavers when he returns, as if you were just daydream of what his love feels like.
He nods and sets his phone down on the coffee table, it being deemed useless now with no service. "Guess we're too far up. It's okay. Electronic free weekend I guess."
Your lips twitch at that, "We're really committed to this mountain people bit, aren't we? No light, no electricity."
He chuckles, sitting with you, rather close. You shift in your spot but try to be discreet about it. It was one thing to like Jake, and know you like him, are attracted to him. But it's a completely separate thing to know he likes you back. You're not even positive about that part, you have no real proof or evidence, just a hunch. Give you an inch and you'll take it a mile though, that flushed face wasn't one of embarrassment or shyness, it was one of liking. Longing.
"Shall I start a fire? Go hunt for our dinner?"
He's grown very fond of the sound of your laugh over the course of your freshly bloomed friendship, but now he loves knowing he's the one that makes that laughter occur. He'd do anything he can to make you laugh. All for that sound, all for knowing he caused it. It's a sense of praise, if you will. Let's him know that you think he's funny. Reminds him that you like him.
You do like him.
It's only early afternoon, you've still got an entire even then another day and a half with Jake. You make the decision rather quickly that you don't want the tension to ruin this trip.
"Fire sounds nice actually," the rain brought a chill with it despite the summer, "keep ourselves entertained like the cavemen."
It's his turn to laugh, causing pride to bloom in your chest the same way it does for him. So while he gets up and messes with the fireplace, you wander around the cabin a little, looking for something to keep you occupied.
There is the liquor cabinet... pretty sparse though. Plus, you can't justify drinking so early, even locked up with nothing else to do. Old board games with half the cards or pieces missing sit abandoned on a shelf. Books, and lots of them, decorate bookshelves, and you end up spending a good five minutes reading their spines, take ones down to read the back, and collecting an armful.
You're not sure if Jake is a bookworm like yourself. Surely, he's into biographies or pirate tales, so you grab a novel on John Denver and a fantasy one involving knights and far off kingdoms. However, you take the romance supply, which is slim pickings. One book set in the 1800s about a farmer and a wife having an affair, and the other is Priscilla Presley's Elvis and Me.
Well, there's nothing else to do.
When you return the fireplace is aglow and Jake has taken back to picking his guitar. You walk up to the coffee table with your stack and set them down. He looks up, still mindlessly fingering the strings, and lifts a brow at the tidings you bring.
"Went exploring?"
"Something like that," you sigh, looking between your two options and ultimately deciding to learn more about Elvis and Priscilla's infamous relationship. Coming to the opposite end of the couch, you sit and make yourself comfortable with your novel of choice, "you have a wide range of terrible books here."
He sits up, looking at the selection you brought him, "You think I'm going to read?"
Flipping to the first page you look at him with eyes that make his blood flow race, and shrug softly, "I am. How else are we to stay occupied?"
He could think of a couple of ways.
"I dunno," he looks over his shoulder then back to you, "check the bar cart?"
"I did," you hum, voice so sweet it tempts him to lean over and taste your lips, "decided drinking should be our last resort for entertainment."
He watches you turn the pages and begin reading. Lost in the words, becoming absorbed by this book, despite how random and so not your style it is, you still make an effort to try. He admires that about you, your optimism, willingness.
"How can you even see the words?" He asks, eyes glancing about at the burning fire, "Go sit by the fire, you'll see better."
"I'm good." You say, eyes stuck on the page before you. Truth is, you aren't really reading. It's hard to pay attention with Jake right there, incredibly difficult to even comprehend words at all by his side. Maybe you should go over to the hearth, create some distance between you two.
"You're straining your eyes," his guitar playing slows and softens.
He cares about you and your vision. Awww.
You look up at him and narrow your eyes teasingly, "You're interrupting my reading."
"You really want to read about..." he tilts his head then, reaches over, snatching the book from your hands which earns him a 'hey!' from you as he analyzes the cover, "seriously? Elvis and Me?"
"Like I said-!" You reach forward to get the book back but he tosses it behind him so it lands on the floor. You sit back with a glare and grumble, "terrible book selection."
"Stop reading and talk to me." He says. It's almost whiney.
"What should we talk about?" You ask, crossing your arms, waiting for him to pick a topic.
With your full attention on him, he says and ends up looking away, out the rainy windows. "I don't know."
You scoff, turning your body and laying your head back on the arm rest, stretching your legs across the cushions of the couch. He looks at your long limbs, how soft and smooth they look, wanting to run his fingers over the expanse of them, spread them apart. He sits up straight, trying to push those thoughts out of his brain. That's no way for him to think of a friend, a friend who may or may not like him and think the same thoughts about himself.
Sometimes you wish you could see inside his mind, wander around his thoughts. Jake so often never truly says what he feels, dances around questions with big, fancy words that you look up in dictionaries later. You want to know what he feels.
"Tell me a story," you finally say in the sweetest voice, "one from tour."
"I..." he searches his brain, but it's taken up by you, "uh, in... Atlantic City, I think, Josh got locked out of his hotel room in just a bath towel."
You laugh at that, lifting your head to look at him, "Sammy told me that, I got a long, overly detailed
text from him about how you stole his towel?"
His smirk widens, "Chased me naked down the hall."
You laugh some more at the very idea, "Hopefully he doesn't try calling me. If I don't answer... he'll probably assume we're together."
"They already assume that," he looks away, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, "it's unavoidable."
You nod. You wish it was avoidable. It was so... limiting. Pressurizing. This thing you have for Jake, you want it to grow authentically. You want it to bloom naturally. Expectant eyes don't help with it, makes it feel forced in a way.
Like, if you tell Jake how you feel, you'll just be giving the others what they want. But if you don't, they'll think you're lying about being friends anyway. Also, if you don't, you'll be forcing yourself to pretend you don't feel anything for him. And you do, you feel so much.
"Okay," you bend your legs at the knee and claps your hands together, "continue with your storytelling."
"I don't know what else to tell you." He chuckles.
"What are your preshow rituals?"
"Drinking."
"Oh, wow." You let out flatly.
He grins at you, loving the reaction, and defends himself in a pitched-up voice, "Helps with the nerves!"
"But like," you sit up, "do have a routine? Like what must you do before ever show for good luck?"
He shrugs his shoulders, "I..." there he goes trailing off again. It's hard to get all his thoughts in order, you're his best distractor. Finally, he thinks of it, "I have to walk around the venue. Have to. Of course I walk around the stage but, I gotta go out onto the floor and into the seats, all the way to the furthest one back. I like to sit there and just look at it all. It's weird to think about."
He's really opened up now, and you try to keep your smile undercover as you ask, "About what?"
"That someone would sit in the very last row at our show." His eyes meet yours, "I wouldn't really think we'd be worth it."
Your eyebrows raise and you move to sit on your knees with a gasp, "You're so worth it."
His lips tilt into a surprised, open-mouthed smile. Say it again, he wishes to whisper, but honestly, he's too shocked. Those words from you mean so much to him.
"I know that I, in the past, was a bitch, but, when I went to your shows, I mean it was undeniable even then, Jake," your voice softens and he leans in to hear you better, "you're incredibly talented. You have this insane gift and it's mesmerizing. You capture everyone's attention, tell a story just through your playing, it's captivating."
"Thank you," his voice comes out nearly in a whisper.
"You're welcome." You nod.
All of the sudden, he knows that if he doesn't get away from you now, he might do something regretful. He hates that kissing you might be a poor decision but doesn't want to dwell on it for too long, because you're like a magnet for him. So, he stands up and leans the guitar against the coffee table.
"I need a drink." He turns and begins to make his way to the liquor selection, "You too."
"Not really." You hear him open the cabinet and grab too crystal glasses, "But if you're gonna make me a drink make sure it's not a disgusting one."
"You're not a whisky girl?" He teases.
Only if it's on your lips.
"You know I'm not." You cackle. Whenever you go out for drinks, he pokes you for your choice of sweet cocktails that taste nothing like alcohol.
He knows enough about you, but some things are missing. You want to pour everything out to him. Like a backpack, full of random, miscellaneous items, you just wanna dump it all out for him to flip over and take into his hands and look at. He knows you, but you want him to understand. You want him to know every little thing, just as you want to know every little thing about him.
When he returns, he hands you your glass and watches you take a sip. It's surprisingly delicious, making you give it a thoughtful nod and you look up at him. He extends his glass towards you for a cheers, and you tap yours against his with a grin.
"Wait, before you sit," you stop as he begins to walk around the couch, "we need pen and paper."
"For what?" His brow furrows.
"I have an idea for a game we can play. Are you feeling brave?"
He looks down at the brown liquid in his glass then to you with a shrug, "Probably will in a few. I'll go grab some paper."
When he returns for a second time though, he ends up distracting you with a tour story he thought up while looking for pens. Something about fans wanting an autograph and all four of them ending up signing a bald man's head. It leaves you gasping for air as you laugh, and the conversation takes off from there. More drinks are poured, and by the time you've remembered your game idea, you're on your third glass.
"Wait, the paper." You tap his knee and move to grab the sheets, handing him his which he thanks you for, "You ready?"
"What exactly is this game of yours?" He licks his lips and clicks his pen.
"Write down three questions you've always wanted to know about the other. Make them juicy and bold. The other has to answer truthfully." Your words pop like bubbles with giggles in between.
He smiles questioningly at you and asks, "Okay, well, what if I don't want to answer?"
"Then you need to drink up and then answer." The simple response makes him snort and shake his head at you, watching as you number your paper and begin writing.
"Something tells me you've had this idea for a while now."
"Well, to be fair, I wonder a lot of things about you Jacob, so..."
He glances at you, and now understands why you want to do this. As much as you want to learn about him, you want to know what he wants to learn about you. That's half the fun, finding out what the other desires to know. He makes sure to take another sip before he begins to list his questions.
It takes you both a good ten minutes to make your decisions on what the other will be asked. Three is such a small number, there's so much he wants to ask you, so much you want to ask him. But, the alcohol really begins to catch up as you finish off your drink, and you finish up your questions, waiting for him.
In the quiet, all that can be heard is the rain and the crackling fire, you watch him. He bites the end of his pen, staring at the paper thoughtfully. You wish to peek over and spoil it for yourself, wanting to know what he wants to know so so badly. What's he curious about? What does he wish for you to reveal?
"Okay." He scribbles his last question then sits back, "Who goes first?"
"You."
Your answer comes without hesitation, and he lifts a brow at it, "What if I wanted you to go first?"
You look down at your questions, then to him, "You want me to go first?"
"Yeah."
"Fine," sitting up, you turn to face him on the couch and clutch your paper, "what was Frankenmuth like?"
He looks at your skeptically, unimpressed with your first question, "Really? That's what you're gonna ask me?"
You sigh heavily and raise your hands, palms facing up with a shrug, "Sam never tells me about it. I wanna know, did you like Christmas capital USA?"
"Yes and no," he hums in that deep voice that makes the hair on the back of your neck raise, "yes in the sense that it was a small town that gave me room to grow, no because it was fucking Bavarian Christmas central."
"You kiss a lot of farmers daughters?" You ask.
His smirk widens and he glances at you with a tease in his voice, "Why? Would that make you jealous?"
"Yes and no," you tease back almost scandalously. What a bold response, but you barely give him time to process it, "Your turn," you stretch your leg so you nudge his thigh with your toe. He reaches down and grabs your foot with a smirk, making you quickly pull it free and grin at him.
"Alright, Y/N, tell me your biggest fear." He murmurs.
You take a breath, "Dying alone."
"That's fair," he nods, "nothing you'll have to worry about though, I'm sure."
"Oh you think so highly of me," you sigh, getting up and walking towards the kitchen with your empty glass, "so much faith, I appreciate that."
"I'm serious!" He chuckles, watching you pour another drink, "Tell me, have you been seeing anyone recently?"
You pour the liquor, then you pour a little more. This conversation, this game, even though your idea, is going to require intoxication. You just know Jake's questions are going to be better than yours.
"No," your reply is quietly reassuring for him, and you continue as you finish mixing your drink, "I don't have the time for dating." I'm far too infatuated with you anyway. "It never seems to last in Nashville. Waste of time."
He understands what you mean all too well. The lack of variety. It's either date this wanna-be country singer or the other. Barely any options, everyone's all the same.
"I thought you were seeing that one guy," he says, snapping his fingers to remember his name, "um, Marcus? Max?"
"Matt." You correct and he hums in remembrance, nodding and watching you come back to him. Your face is pink, neither of you can tell if it's from the alcohol, questions, or sitting so close to him. Maybe it's a mixture of all three. "We ended that like, ages ago, Jake. How do you even remember that?"
"Just like my brothers, I'm very perceptive." He crosses his legs at the ankle, eyes on you as you sit, trailing over your legs when you tuck them beside you. "Tell me about that. All I remember was his love for snakeskin boots."
You almost retch at the memory of his very questionable fashion choices, then you fake a gag, and it causes Jake to laugh.
"What do you wanna know? There's so much." You sigh, taking a long swig from your glass. "He always had something to say about my makeup, hair, my outfits. Constantly compared me to other girls to my face. He always let me know I wasn't the prettiest in the room and would point out who was. And when we got home, he'd pretend none of that ever happened, that he loved me, and would guilt trip me into bed."
His eyes harden, frown forming. What do you mean he did all that? His next question is going to be what's his address so he can beat his ass, but you sigh and it pulls him out of his thoughts.
"Basically, he was a dick, and Sam talked me out of seeing him. So I left." You slowly look up to him, slightly embarrassed from the suddenness of your confession, "We're you expecting that?"
"I was not," his voice is low. He rests his arm on the back of couch as he looks at you, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never noticed."
You shake your head at that, "There was no way you could have because I shut you out."
"Yeah but," he shrugs, feeling guilty for something he had no control over. "I still wish I could have helped you."
"Remember the party? When you walked in on me and that one guy?"
His lips press into a firm line as he recalls that night. At the time, he didn't care, you potentially hooking up with someone. That wasn't his business, and as much as he disliked you back then, he could have cared less about you sex life. Now though, looking back on it and hindsight and knowing that's not what you were doing, he hates it. He's glad he helped you then though.
"You saved me then."
"I know I did." He whispers.
"So don't beat yourself up over something you had no idea about." Your voice is firm, "Look at me." He listens, moving his eyes to your face. "Don't burden yourself with regret over it, okay? We came to each other when we did and that's what matters now, right?"
"Right," it's a shaky breath from him.
"And I appreciate you for that."
"I'm so glad," he laughs lightly at himself, "not to get all sentimental or anything, but I'm just so happy we put our differences aside, you know?"
Of course I know. You know I'm literally falling for you, right?
"I know." You nod, staring thoughtfully at him. He stares back, that same fondness in his eyes. "Me too."
God, you love him. You love him so much it hurts almost. The desire to just toss everything aside and crawl over there to him, to curl up next to him, rest your head on his shoulder. This is the perfect time, right? Lights out, fire burning, rain pouring. When will you ever have this opportunity again? If you don't do it, maybe you'll never have the chance.
"Okay," he stretches his arms, "your turn."
Oh, screw this dumb game. You should have suggested spin the bottle instead.
"Um," you look down at your paper, eyesight a little dizzy from the drinks, but once they've focused, you read your second question, "did you ever have any groupies?"
He lets his head drop back with a laugh. How did you guys go from a heart-to-heart to this? You blush from your choice of question, blush from his laughter, and reach over to take another long sip, awaiting his question.
When he catches his breath, he nods and sighs, "Yeah, like right in the beginning of it all. When we openers for the bigger bands, God. There'd be a few, and they'd wait by the back door, pretending to be out there for a smoke. Sam would always find them first, of course, and he'd invite them back to the hotel."
"Wow," you push your jealousy down. They don't exist anymore, why should you care? "Did you ever...?"
"Yeah," he nods, discreetly gauging your reaction. He can tell you don't like the thought of it, and he likes that you don't. Just confirms that you want him to yourself; he likes that. "There was this one time, it was just me and two of them, everyone went back to their own rooms, and they were so insistent on having a threesome-"
"Okay, that's enough." You cough, another long sip from your beverage. Jesus, you're already halfway through it.
"No, let me tell the rest," he snickers, scooting closer, "they kept on asking and asking and I'm like, I think I was 21 at the time, totally down. We go back to my room and they're all over me," he continues and you're hot with envy, hot with hatred for these random girls that only exist in his mind when it comes to this tale, "and I'm down to just my underwear and so are they and when I'm laying back they both just start making out with each other. At first, I thought it was just for show, ya know, but then they don't stop, and they just forget about me. I'm sitting there watching these two girls all over each other, waiting my turn and it never comes." You can't help but smile at the story, raising your hand to cover your lips. He smiles too and shakes his head at the memory, "So I got up and left. They did god knows what in there while I went to the hotel bar."
"You're kidding," you breathe out a quick laugh.
"I'm not. We banned groupies shortly after that, one ended up stealing Sam's wallet."
"Sam's never told that story." You hum, sitting back, your anger cooling off until it's completely gone.
He notices a shift in your attitude, and again, confirms even more for him. "Ask him about it next time you see him."
You nod, "Ok, ask me your next question."
"Speaking of Sam..." he looks at you with half lidded eyes, a little tipsy from his own drink, "plus you said to be bold," you sit up a little straighter, awaiting this next one, "have you guys ever hooked up?"
"No!"
"Okay! Just wondering." He wheezes.
"Oh my god..." you slouch back and cover your face, bringing your knees up to your chin as you shake your head, "please, get that image out of my head. Ew."
"Have you ever thought about doing it with him?" He asks.
"No, Jake!" You keep your face hidden as you answer, "Never."
"Josh?"
"No," you breathe out, uncovering your red face to him and staring into his eyes, telling the truth. Your voice turns smug as you relax back, "I can't speak for them though." You hope your suggestive tone will work him up in one way or another, and it does.
First, that voice. He wants to hear you speak like that all the time, perhaps saying some other types of words. But also, what you're suggesting doesn't necessarily sit well with him. His brothers have come to an agreement that you are quite pretty, beautiful, and he's sure that the thought has probably crossed their minds at least once. Then thought crosses his mind, and he pushes it out as quickly as it comes.
He grunts out, "Ok, next."
Concealing your smirk, you check your last question then set the sheet aside, "What do you think of onstage? Like, when you play?"
"I think of the song."
"Ok, maybe I should ask it differently," you sit up, "why do you play like that?"
"Like what?" He raises and eyebrow, avoiding the question.
In a whisper back, you say, "You know how."
You're talking about how it looks like he's fucking onstage.
He smirks to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Well, it's partially because I just get so into it, you know? When the music is too good, you just lose all sense of everything else. Sometimes I forget I'm even onstage until I open my eyes again and I just see them."
You nod and then mock their facial expressions, "Like this?" Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as you look up at him with a dreamy stare.
He grins and nods back, "Yup. That's it too. I know they love it, so why not just give it to them?"
"So you're a tease." You hum.
He shrugs, not agreeing or disagreeing, "Just giving them their money's worth." Running a hand through his hair, he takes a breath then adds, "It's everything, it's the band and the music, it's knowing that I'm playing just right and then hearing all of them cheering me on, watching them go wild. That energy, it builds up."
"So, you have to hump the guitar?" You try to stifle your laugh, but it comes out a bit at the end.
He rolls his eyes at you with a lopsided, shy, smile, "Okay, whatever."
"I guess," you shrug and nod with him, "you'd rather move around than stand up there frozen still."
"Exactly," he gestures a hand out to you with a singular nod before drawing it away to rest on his stomach, "that wouldn't be very much fun. Standing up there, playing but not feeling."
It makes him only that much more attractive. The way he's talking about music, how it's this thing that can be transcribed and understood and felt. How it penetrates the soul and changes lives forever. It's changed his. It's admirable.
"Alright," you huff, "I'm outta questions. Your turn."
He looks doesn't to his page. Technically, he has four written down, but one is crossed out, and for half a second, he considers it. Beneath the scratched-out ink, he reads his first third question. You said bold, and it is, but when his eyes glance at you, you're taking a sip and humming out contentedly, already crossing the line of tipsy to drunk. It's not a question he'd like to ask you when you're in that headspace.
So, he asks the one that isn't scratched out.
"What made you hate me? Like, in the very beginning. What was it that I did?"
Licking your lips, you set the glass away and sigh, "I don't even know. That's stupid, isn't it? That I just decided for no reason to have his opposition against you?"
"There had to be something." He shakes his head.
"Jake," you just shrug, "I can't remember. I think you said something, a punchline to a joke, and I just didn't like it. So I decided from then on out I wasn't going to like you, which is stupid. Childish." You both fall quiet, and you look over at him, hesitantly asking, "What- what about me?"
He shakes his head, "Honestly, I didn't hate you at first, and, again, I don't think I ever truly did. When I first saw you, I was... enamored," your heart beats faster with every word he speaks, "I wanted to impress you so bad because you just seemed so damn cool, Y/N. But you seemed uninterested, and then I realized that you didn't like me, so I should just run with that instead: become someone so unlikable to you."
"It worked there for a while." You tease, making him smile a little bit, "Can I ask then, what made you want to put everything aside?"
"Same reason as you: I was over it." He shrugs, turning his body inward to face you, "We're big kids now, we don't have time for grudges like that anymore."
"Yeah," you chuckle, tucking some of your hair back behind your ear, "but I mean I was ready to give up. I ran off at first and you chased after me. You were more willing."
"We wouldn't be here, right now, if it weren't for both of our cooperation." He leans closer, "Friendship is a team effort."
He's right. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself about this. After all, you ended up working with him and now here you are. If it weren't for that, your willingness to make this work, nothing would have come from it.
"I chased because if I knew I didn't, I'd regret it." He confesses softly, "I didn't want to just let you go."
"Jake..."
You hate that you shut him out for so long. Hate that it took you two forever to finally see eye-to-eye. But this conversation you're having now, well you couldn't be happier having it. This was something you needed to discuss, it was a conversation bound to happen, and it did.
"Okay, no more sappy shit." He laughs, standing up, crumbling his paper into a ball and tossing it onto the coffee table, "Refill? Not sure if you need one but..."
He ends up getting you a new drink, and you're properly drunk as the evening turns to night. Giggly conversations ignite between you too, your laughter booming louder than the thunder, crackling softly like the fire. You're unsurprised when you find yourself laying on the floor in front of the fireplace, Jake sitting nearby on the floor with you.
Your face is turned toward the flames, letting it heat up your skin before it gets to be too much and turning away. He watches you, your hands stretched up your head, hair strewn about beneath you, shirt ridden up just a bit to show off your stomach and navel. What a perfect opportunity to crawl over top of you and press his body against yours.
And truthfully, you want that. From him, right now. You would want that.
But he won't do it. Even when you slowly sit yourself up and crawl over to him, no, he won't. Because he knows you're drunk, and he doesn't want to take advantage of you.
"Oh, don't be like that," you whine, forcing yourself onto his lap, "I want you so bad. You don't have to worry I promise, I need you, Jakey."
"Hey," he cups your face in his hands and shakes his head firmly, "not tonight. You're hammered, Y/N, seriously. I don't want you like this."
You pull your face out of his hands with a pout, slowly removing yourself from his lap, ashamed. Rejection from Jake felt like a puncture to the heart. He takes your hand and stands, helping you into your feet, and hooking his arm around your waist as you walk, or try to, down the hallway to your rooms.
And your dizzy mind can't remember much past that. He helps you into your room, you think, and then into bed. Maybe he helped you change into your comfy shirt, maybe he convinced you to brush your teeth. You just can't remember.
In the morning though, all those memories prior come racing back like a slingshot. You wish you had a hangover, so you would maybe have some sort of excuse to hide away in here, but you feel surprisingly fine. Remembering the little bits of what was said and what you did last night though, it causes you to groan and hide your face away into one of the pillows.
And now you have the whole day that you're going to have to spend with him. Great.
With your face smushed into the pillowcase, you slowly allow yourself to think back to last night's moments. His questions, just talking to him the way you did, the confessions. The floor, crawling onto him, him holding your face and telling you no. It was embarrassing, sure, but, at the same time, reassuring.
Would you have regretted sleeping with Jake last night, or even kissing him in your state? Honestly, yes, and you're glad he kept you in check.
However, even though nothing happened, you're going to have to face Jake today. Either way, it's going to be a shameful morning.
You creep out of bed, tip toeing and pausing every few steps thinking you hear him up. In the bathroom you get ready for the morning, and once you're dressed, you slip out into the hall, down to the kitchen. It's a little messy after last night's activities. Glasses litter the counter, plates sit at the table, your books and papers are scattered in the living room.
Quietly, because you assume Jake is still sleeping, you tidy a few things up and start a pot of coffee. As it brews, you pull two mugs from the cupboard and wander over to the living rooms messy. Picking everything up, you pause a moment as you reach the coffee table, bending over to pick up your sheet. You shake your head at yourself, Re-reading the questions. Your eyes find the crumpled paper ball that Jake left behind, and you pick it up, slowly smoothing it out so you can read his handwriting.
However, footsteps grow louder, and you shove the papers in your pocket just as he walks out into the space.
You turn and smile sheepishly at him, which he returns with a kind smile of his own. Dear god, don't let today be painfully awkward, please.
"Good morning," he says, voice raspy from sleep.
"I made coffee." You reply back softly, and he looks and nods and walks over to the machine where you left the two mugs. You come over to him, trying to make your own cup but he doesn't let you.
"Ah ah ah," he shields the coffee cups with his arm, "go outside to the rocking chairs and wait for me, 'kay?"
It feels like he wants to talk to you about something, like he's sending you away to gather your thoughts, and he's going to meet you there when he's ready. Your eyes meet his, and you stare at each other for moment before you slowly nod your head and break away. You can feel the heat of his stare as you walk away and step out onto the balcony.
Facing the mountains, you close your eyes and take a deep, deep breath. Then, you let it out, and let it go. Nerves explode in your tummy, you're not ready to hear what he has to say. You wish last night never happened. Because now it's tomorrow, and you suffer with the consequences.
At least it's a clear sky. You lean against the rail as you gaze out at the view, admiring its beauty. Lost in the sight, you almost don't hear Jake sneak out onto the balcony, but the click of the door alerts you and makes you turn around. He stands there with your mug and his, he knows just how you like your morning coffee.
"Thanks," you step forward and cup the mug in your hands, bringing it up to your lips for a sip.
"Of course," he watches you and takes a sip of his own before moving over to the rocking chairs. He sits down then beckons you over with a wave of his hand. It's like that wave casts a spell on you, because your feet move without you giving a second though, and you're rocking in the chair next to his. He looks out to the mountains, speaking into his mug, "Look at that view."
You nod, soft in reply, "Wish I could see this every morning. Look at the mist."
He nods, his foot planted firmly on the floor so he can rock his chair evenly. Your eyes end up drifting back over to him. His hair is messy from sleep, his clothes wrinkled, eyes sleepy. Did he even fall asleep last night? Or did he stay up into the early morning hours?
After he closed the door to your bedroom, he stalled out in the hallway, trying to make up his mind. You requested his help in getting ready for bed, aiding you in changing into your sleep shirt and he stayed and watched you brush your teeth because he was scared you'd choke on your toothbrush somehow. But after that, when you were tucked into bed, he didn't want to leave you. He wanted to crawl in beside you, hold you close, wake up with you in the morning. But he can't.
It kept him up, the thought of you. The memory of you on top of him, touching him, whining for him. I need you, Jakey. He laid in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to forget your voice, but it kept ringing in his ears until he trailed a hand down his body and gripped himself through his boxers.
"Sleep well?" You ask quietly.
He turns to look at you and nods his head, "You?"
You shrug with a quick laugh, "I was pretty much knocked out. I guess I drank too much?"
He chuckles softly at that and nods some more, "Yeah, yeah you did." He lowers his eyes, so he doesn't hold your gaze when he says, "About last night..."
"Can I be honest?" Your mouth moves before you can speak, and when looks at you again, you breathe out in a forced laugh, "I don't remember a thing." What a lie. "I apologize for whatever I did, drunk Y/N is a character." A desperately horny one at that. "We can just... forget about it, okay?"
"You don't remember anything?" He asks, slightly unbelieving. Sure you were drunk, but not that far gone, right?
You shrug again, trying to sound as believable as possible, "No. I don't. What, did I do something bad? Commit a crime?"
He doesn't know why his heart falls, no actually, he does. He wanted you to remember, he wanted you to blush and confess first but you don't. You don't remember, does that mean you never meant any of it in the first place?
He shakes his head, but he doesn't laugh or even smile at your joke, "No. It's okay, we can forget it."
He can't just forget about though, and neither can you.
"I'm sorry for whatever happened." You mumble, slowly sitting up and whispering just to sell your lie, "What happened?"
He looks over at you, and he believes you. He really thinks that you don't know. But he wants to save you both from the embarrassment, so he lies right back.
"You," he stalls for just a moment but is quick on his feet, "spilt your drink everywhere and broke a glass."
You most certainly did not, and you know you didn't, and you know he's lying right back to you right now. And for some reason, it makes your stomach uneasy. Like you're going to be sick. Because neither of you are brave enough to acknowledge the truth. It's right in front of you both and neither of you are acknowledging it.
Maybe Jake doesn't actually like you. Maybe you read it wrong, and he doesn't feel the same.
"Oh," you sit back and close your eyes, leaning your head back in hopes of ridding the dizzy feeling. Maybe you are hungover. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he laughs it off, noticing your slight distress, he sits up, "hey listen, it's fine. I'm serious. It's okay, Y/N."
"Mm-hmm," you nod your head with your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. It's really not okay to you.
He feels bad for even bringing it up, and now is unsure how to go about the rest of it. Clearly, you're upset. How does he settle that?
"Do you want breakfast?" He asks, "You know the pancake house nearby?"
Slowly you open your eyes and look to him. It seems as if nothing happened, as if he's completely unfazed. As long as you pretend that you don't know anything about the night prior, you should be fine, so you promise to yourself to try to keep the act up for the remainder of the trip.
"Yeah," you weakly smile at him, sitting up, "wanna go?"
"I'm starving." He chuckles, standing and holding his hand out for you to grab.
You take it, and just holding it is enough to make you catapult to last night so when you're steady on your feet you let go. The two of you head inside and freshen up a little so you're presentable for going out, and while you wait for him at the door, your hand twitches to pull out his paper that's tucked away in your pocket still. But, he reunites with you and together, you make your way to the mountainside diner.
The design hasn't been updated probably since the 70s, only slightly renovated to accommodate proper A/C and stay up to date with food regulations. It really just looks like a massive, cartoonish house, a huge sloping roof with a pale yellow exterior. On the inside, it's a classic dinner with cherry red and sky blue booths, a radio jukebox at each table. Jake insists that you all listen to some Johnny Cash that morning, and you say only if Dolly Parton can be played next.
It feels like the way it did at the jazz show, except softer. Almost mundane, but sweet mundanity with Jake is just as special as a scandalous night out on the town. You'd listen to jazz with him, classic country, heavy metal, anything just as long as he stays by your side. Music with Jake is better to you.
"No other pancake compares." He sighs around a mouthful, making you giggle in your spot across from him.
In the thirty minutes that you've been outside of the cabin, your tension has slowly faded away. It has to be beside you're not trapped inside by the rain; it has to be this fresh air and strangers surrounding you. This is exactly what you needed to help with the awkwardness.
"So, what do you wanna do today? It's perfect outside." You bite a piece of bacon and look over to him.
He lifts an eyebrow, "How are you not hungover? I mean we are up in the mountains, that has to get your drunker. The air pressure and all."
"I don't know," you roll your eyes and kick his shoe beneath the table, making him send you a mischievous grin, "but I want us to go out and have fun today, so what are we doing?"
"Wanna hit a few trails?"
You nod, "Yeah. Let's do it."
With perfect timing, his phone begins to vibrate on the tabletop, and Josh's contact flashes on the screen. Your eyes flit up to his face and he presses his lips together, acknowledging that his brother is trying to get ahold of him, but not wanting to answer. Instead of declining the call, he lets it ring until it stops, then looks up to you. You would say something about it, but you don't.
"Ready for a hike?"
After heading back to the cabin and getting changed, you both spend the majority of the afternoon trekking through the wooded mountains. Surprisingly, for a weekend, it isn't crowded while you're out, so you're able to wander leisurely and walk side-by-side. The entirety of your hiking is full of light chatter and jokes. It feels like nothing ever happened between you two, and you love it. You love that feeling of normalcy with Jake, not having to pretend.
In all honesty, you'd rather it stay like this forever. A friendship full of genuineness rather than a pining that leaves things stiff. You'd choose friendship with Jake over a relationship as long as it stays normal, comfortable. Lost in your thoughts, you flinch when Jake gasps softly and places his arm in front of your body to stop you.
Frowning, you look up at him and open your mouth to ask why he stopped you, but lifts a single finger to his lips to silently shush you. Your face relaxes, and you watch him use his finger to point to the right of you, off the trail and into the trees.
Slowly, you turn your head, and it takes you a minute to notice, but then you see what he sees. Two deer nearly blended in with the brush, staring straight back you and him. They stand perfectly still except for their twitching ears, staying alert for any nearby predators.
Your mouth curls into a smile, and Jake lowers his arm so it rests beside his body. The back of his hand brushes over yours softly, and if it weren't for the nature connecting with you right now, you probably would have noticed and looked at your hands. But you don't, because you can't.
They watch you carefully, the one in front taking a few curious steps forward. It's black eyes pierce yours, connecting with you in a way that is deeper than humanly possible. It's like they are trying to tell you something, that they are trying to communicate in a language only they know. What are you try to tell us?
But then, a twig breaks in the distance and echoes through the forest, causing the deer to startle and trot off. You and stand there silently, hoping they'll come back after a few moments of stillness, but they don't.
"Wow," he whispers, looking at you.
You beam up at him, "That was amazing. Did you see it step towards us?"
"Yeah," he nods, "they looked so curious."
"Think they were trying to tell us something."
"Yeah? Like what?"
He's staring down at you so fondly, eyes full of love almost. How are these the eyes that looked at you through the dark last night, in his car, in the pouring rain?
"I don't know," you whisper, licking your lips, "they know something we don't, I guess."
Like your connection. Like the tension you both ignore. But, then again, you both know that, don't you? It's just acknowledging it. Maybe that's what they were telling you, to just accept it. Accept each other.
He lifts his eyes to the branches and leaves above you, how they almost block out the sky. Instead of the blue, all you can see is the lush greenness. The trees tops sway in the wind, and for a moment you can almost hear the whisper it carries. Another secret, something neither of you know. Maybe something not meant to be heard but discovered on your own.
"Wanna keep going?"
"What?" You break out of your thoughts.
"The trail?" He nods ahead of you two, "It's not that much further to the overlook, if you wanna check it out."
"Oh, yeah. Of course, let's go."
You ignore what the mountains trees try to tell you the rest of the way, and when you make it to the clearing, you breath deep. Walking to the edge, right up to the barrier, you close your eyes and breathe out your long exhale.
He watches you as you do, smiling softly at your sense of liberty. Clearly letting go of something as you release that breath. He wonders what. He could ask, but he doesn't want to. Whatever it is, it's yours, it's your feeling, it's your relief. Plus, he doesn't want to speak in a moment like this, when you seem so at peace, so calm. So fucking beautiful.
When you blink your eyes open, you turn and look to him, letting out an awkward giggle he returns it with his own, stepping back before turning to the overlook. He's overcome by a wave of awareness, staring out at the huge mountains, the miles and miles of trees that cover them, all the creatures that live there. He's minuscule in comparison, just one man amongst the thousands of trees. Him and his problems, worries, they cease to exist when there is so much more amongst this place, world, universe.
"Damn..." he mumbles under his breath to his own self-discovery, but also at the beauty of it all, of everything. This revelation, moment, scene.
And you're there with him. He knows some of this comes back to you. In a world so big, with so little time, and some of that time already lost, why are either of you just avoiding this?
"I know right," you chuckle, thinking he's talking about the glorious view, "I can't even look away, it's so beautiful."
He nods, mind still on his other thoughts as he simply replies, "It is."
You're not sure how long the two of you stood there, but you took your time. Soaking it all in, silently beside one another. Reflecting on everything, processing all your thoughts, letting go of a few things. This is the perfect place to do all of that.
"Think there will be an echo?" He asks softly, shifting his weight as he spreads his stance.
"I'm not sure-"
He brings his hands up to cup around his mouth and as loud as he can, shouts, "HELLO!"
The two you lean your ears toward the air and sure enough, the voice faintly echoes back a 'hello... hello... hello...'. He boyishly grins at you, and it makes your smile stretch as he judges you with his elbow.
"You go. Shout something." He says.
You shake your head, "Nah..."
"No, go on. Say something." He insists with a slight whine in his voice.
"Okay, uhhhh," you shrug and shake your head as you cup your mouth and try your best to shout, "hi!"
"That was pitiful," he laughs, and you blush, trying to shove him but he steps away before you can. He mimics your tiny voice, "hi!"
"Ugh," you groan at his teasing, turning back to the overlook with determination as you stand tall and shout, "HELLOOOOOOOO!"
"Yeah! There ya go!" He laughs, quieting down almost instantly to listen your voice echo back.
It makes you both break into little giggles, him slinging an arm over your shoulders, you planting a hand on his chest. When you both calm down, slowly looking to each other, you stand there for a second in each other's embrace. And then, slowly, detach yourselves from the other, much to your shared dismay.
"So," you scratch the back of your arm and look downward at the dirt beneath your shoes, "now what?"
"Hmm," he thinks for a moment, choosing not to make this anymore awkward than it needs to be, and suggests, "late lunch?"
You both end getting to-go orders from a nearby burger shack and he insists on making it a picnic. So, amongst all the mountains have to offer, you both find a picnic table at a park and hunker down for lunch. Who knew hiking and screaming at the top of your lungs and trying to avoid your romantic love for your best friend could work up such an appetite?
"You said this earlier but I gotta repeat it," he moans, taking a bite of his burger, "I just wanna wake up every day and do this. Eat burgers after hiking in the most beautiful mountains with you."
You crack a smile at that, popping a fry into your mouth, "Yeah? What about playing shows and making music?"
"Hmm, you're right. Okay, this is a close second though and when I say close, I mean like," he lifts his hand to showcase his finger and thumb almost pinched together, "this close."
"You're so stupid." You chuckle, picking up another fry and dipping it in ketchup. He grins at you as he continues eating, and you say, "You know, I'd love to go see you on tour again, like, go out and see you in some cities."
He picks up quickly on how you just say him. Not the band, not 'you guys', just you.
"Yeah?" He tries to remain cool about it, but inside, his heart is leaping and doing flips, "Well, you know we are leaving soon for tour."
"I know," you hum, "I was kind of hinting at something there, Jake."
He burns at his lack of awareness, his expression slowly flipping to one of realization, "Oh, well, yeah. Yeah, I can arrange something like that for you."
"I don't want to invite myself though." You find his flustered reaction cute but try your best to bite back a smile.
He shakes his head, "No, I'm inviting you now. You're invited. Just, let me know your schedule and we can get you to a few weekend shows maybe, like..." he wracks his brain for one of the dates, "oh, Vegas. You're coming to Vegas."
"Hah," you audibly laugh at that.
"I'm serious. It's a Saturday show I'm pretty sure. Plus, you love Elvis so..." he shimmy's his shoulders as he belts out in a low, Presley-esque register, "vivaaaaaaa Las Vegas."
"Jake Kiszka, you're so stupid." But I love you for it.
He just winks at before quieting down. Your eyes spot his hand resting on the table, how badly you wish you could just reach over and take it in yours. Have him hold your fingers loosely and bring the back of it up to his mouth. Now you're eying is lips how soft and pink they look, you're dying to peck them with your own.
"Did you ever call Josh back?" You try to get your mind off of your friend with the perfect face sitting across from you. It's almost as easy as watching television with your eyes closed.
He sighs and shakes his head, "No. he's been texting me though. I'm pretty sure he knows I'm lying. He always knows when I'm lying."
They are twins after all. Josh knows Jake better than anyone, and vice versa. It would have been so much easier to not keep this trip a secret, but then of course you'd be teased for days. Why that matters so much to either of you, you're still not sure.
"What are you gonna say?" You ask.
He shrugs, "I don't know. What do you think I should say?"
He's asking you, and you know what you want to answer with, but the words are trapped. Just tell them, tell them that we are friends and there's nothing more to it. Or, just tell me. Tell me you like me back. You're adults right? You're big kids? Don't mature grown-ups accept their feelings and talk to one another about it?
No, you're both just as bad as a pair of angsty teenagers.
"I think you should just deny."
He laughs softly. He was kind of hoping you'd tell him to tell everyone the truth.
As the day carries on night begins to fall, and you both reel back into the cabin. It was like you both knew once you went back there, once you were behind closed doors, the mood would shift. So, you avoided going back for as long as you could, until the sun began to sink behind the mountains and you had no other choice.
The power is at least back on now, so you both wind down in the living room in separate chairs, watching some cheesy movie that's on tv. It feels wrong to be sitting in silence with Jake, feels wrong to have your attention on something other than each other.
"This sucks," he groans, grabbing the remote and turning it off, "I mean, what kind of garbage are they making and calling film these days."
"You sound like Josh." You laugh and he shoots a fake glare at you which makes your laughter grow before you quiet down. You're not sure what time it is, but you do know it's late, so you fake a stretch and yawn, "You staying up?"
He shrugs, "Probably. You know me."
"Ok, I'll stay with you."
"No, you don't have to. Get some sleep."
"It's our last night here though." You say, getting up and standing in front of him, "I wanna spend time with you."
He blinks up at you, a look in his eye that says he has an idea. When his smirk grows you get curious and plants your hands on his hips, silently asking what he's up to. He just holds a single finger up and disappears down the hall, before returning with a surprise.
He reveals a little kit, and you look at him skeptically, immediately knowing what it is.
"Wanna get high?" He asks.
Your face twists into a giddy grin and nod, trying to look casual about it. He leads you out onto the balcony, the sun just providing a purple glow in the sky now. He sits and rolls the joint and you watch him, leaning against the railing. His fingers catch you off guard, how agile he is, precise, great at rolling. He holds it up with a proud smile and hands it to you for inspection.
You pinch it between your finger and thumb and thoughtfully examine it with a nod of approval, and when you look at him to hand it back, he's already standing with a lighter in hand. He holds the flame out for you, giving you the honor of starting it off. You lick your lips, glancing to his eyes and he nods for you to go ahead, so you set it in between your lips and let him light it, taking a few puffs before inhaling and exhaling. He pulls the lighter away and watches you when you take a full drag, watches the smoke float out of your mouth and you look down at the paper in your hand.
You hand it back to him, and he takes his own drag. He tries to ignore the way the paper is damp from your lips, tries not to overthink about how this was in your mouth and now it's in his, because how adolescent is that?
"Did you have a good time?" He asks, "This weekend?"
"I did," you smile, taking the joint back when he extends it to you, "thanks for inviting me on THSI trip. I mean, I love it here."
"I know, I remembered how much you enjoyed the other trips and I'd been meaning to escape Nash for a while so," he shrugs, eyes trained on your lips around the stick, "seemed like a perfect opportunity for both of us."
"Mmhm," you hum with your mouth closed, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you part your lips and exhale the smoke out. He wants to step forward and kiss the skin of your neck, suck little marks to it, but instead averts his gaze to the moon slowly beginning to rise.
"So you had a good time too?" You ask.
"Yeah," he breathes as the two of you pass the joint back and forth, "I really needed this. Thanks for coming along."
"Anytime." And you mean it. Anytime Jake wants you just to himself, he can have you.
Instead of talking, the two you just watch nightfall. Sometimes words don't need to be said. Right now, here with you by his side in the silence, that's enough for him. It's enough for you too. You wish he'd put his arm around you though. That would make this moment perfect, if you could rest your head on his shoulder and feel his arm around your waist.
Slowly, the weed hits, and you both turn a little giggly and retire to the rocking chairs. Jake is always beautiful but right now, with your watery eyes and foggy brain, you find him especially gorgeous. His eyes are a little red, smile lazy, head tilted to the side. You want to see all versions of Jake, stoned, drunk, happy, sad, mad, confused, all of them. You're sure they're all beautiful. You know you'd love them all even if they aren't.
"God, I'm so glad we are friends." He sighs, letting his head rest back against the wood, "Can we stay friends forever?"
You look over at him, and for a second, you're back on earth, and a tiny lump forms in your throat. Forever and ever, across every lifetime, in every universe no matter what, you'd love to be Jake Kiszka's friend. He's thinking the same thing about you.
"Forever." You whisper back and he smiles over at you.
Then, lost in each other's stares, it's just you two. No one else in the world exists, just the two of you.
You're not sure what time it is when you both filter back inside, but he said something about bears that made you panic slightly and realize you're basically in their territory. So, back to the couch it is, and the movies on television are now slightly better than they were an hour or so ago.
As the credits roll you finally feel slightly centered again instead of drifting around, and Jake seems to be on the same level too. His eyes are droopy though, looking like he could pass out any time now. And of course, you take that as the perfect moment to admit something.
"I know what I did last night." You whisper, loud enough for him to catch and turn his head. His tired eyes look a bit more alert now, and you take a breath before continuing, "I'm sorry about it, Jake. What I did was wrong."
"You were drunk," he brushes it off with a light chuckle, "it's okay, Y/N."
The corner of your mouth twitches, and quietly reply in a pitiful voice, "Okay." He reaches his arm over to you and pats your knee, rubbing it softly before withdrawing his hand. Where he touched you leaves a sting, not because he hit you or anything but because it's him, and Jake has left this mark on you for a while now. And despite everything, literally everything, you can't wipe away his stain. "I'm gonna go to bed."
"That sounds like a good idea, actually." He stretches, glancing at you and noticing your stiffness. "You okay?"
You nod, feeling far away from him and everything else, lost in your thoughts. But he leaves you be, walking with you to your respective bedroom doors and turning to face each other before you call it a night.
"I meant what I said, out there on the balcony," he murmurs, "I never don't want to be your friend, Y/N."
You just feel like you could cry, because you feel the same way but also, there's something more. That longing, yearning for more from Jake, it almost eats you up. But, in an effort to keep your tears away, you step towards him and wrap your arms around his waist in a hug.
"I meant it too." Your tiny voice cracks as you speak into his t-shirt, squeezing your eyes tight. He envelopes you in his arms, rubbing his palm over your back and leaning his head against yours.
You both hesitantly pull away after a minute, looking at each other and noticing that something is definitely different now. Something has changed. But neither of you say anything other than 'goodnight' before slipping into your rooms and shutting the door behind yourselves. Jake stands on the other side of his door, fingertips touch the knob as he stares at the floor with his head hung.
What am I doing?
You walk across the floor to the bathroom, immediately trying to distract yourself with your night routine. Brushing your teeth, washing your face, hair care. Then, you slip on your oversized t-shirt of the night and go to get beneath your covers when you notice it. The tiny, crumbled ball of paper you stuffed in your pocket earlier.
Before you know it, you're picking it up and finally unwrapping it, smoothing out the wrinkled paper and reading Jake's handwriting. Your fingertips brush over the ink as you do so, as if you're touch the hand that wrote them in the first place.
- biggest fear
-Sam?
-What made you hate me?
But in between the bottom two, scratched out and laying beneath black ink, sits one extra question he bailed on last night.
-how do you really feel about me?
Your fingers curl into the sheet, hands griping it so hard you might make holes or rip it in half. Your heart picks up, and heat takes over your whole body, across your face, over the top of your head and down your back and chest to your feet. Your mind is racing, unsure of what to do or even what it means but you know one thing. You know for certain exactly how you feel about Jake Kiszka.
And you're ready to ask him that question.
Your feet are moving you before you have the chance to think, and you're stepping across the room, opening your door and walking across to his closed one. You raised your fist, about to knock your knuckles against the grain, but, like he had been standing there the entire time, he opens the door and raises his eyebrows when he sees you there. And the paper in your hands.
Blinking up at him in the silence, you gather your thoughts and steady your breath, eyes wide and wistful, desperate, wishful. Please let this be true, don't lie to me again and I'll never lie to you.
"How do you really feel about me?"
TO BE CONTINUED
Extra A/N: You know how I said this is going to be a two-part series? I LIED.
Jake tag list: @serendipiti @partycatt @indigostreakmorgan @gretavangroupie @anythingforjtk @writingcold @gold-mines-melting @Suzi107 @diditallforyouu
Indifferent tag list: @i-choose-the-road @profitofthedune @way-to-go-lad @sinarainbows @literal-dead-leaf
A/N: Hi guys… yes this is a two part Jake series (I’m sorry). Shout out to the anon that said the words “enemies to lovers” and mentioned Jake. You’re the reason why Indifferent exists! I know you didn’t ask for two parts… that just kind of happened on its own. And sorry, no smut in part one (you’ll get fed eventually don’t worry). Please excuse any grammatical or spelling mistakes. If you have any questions, requests, or constructive criticism my inbox is open! Look out for part two!!!
Summary: “…the opposite of being indifferent, which is what you have been saying we are this entire time, is to be curious. To be excited." … "So, Y/N, tell me. Do I pique your curiosity? Do I excite you?" Determined on both sides, you and Jake try to put an end to your turmoil. However, something blooms in the midst of your efforts.
Word count: 14k+
Warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking, strong language, slight angst, probably some incorrect terminology revolving around clay throwing and soccer (lmao), etc.
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"It would be so much easier if you just admitted that you hate him."
There's definitely some truth to that. Because, if you hated Jake Kiszka, you wouldn't have to deal with his annoying attitude, wouldn't have to constantly ignore him everywhere, wouldn't have to fake pleasantries. It would, in fact, be much easier. But, if you truly hated Jake Kiszka, then you definitely wouldn't be Sam's friend, which is a price you aren't willing to pay.
Everyone thinks you're lying when you say you don't hate the younger Kiszka twin, but it can't be a lie. The two of you are certainly not the biggest fans of each other, maybe he hates you, but you've always told yourself that you're a lover, not a hater. No matter how cheesy it is.
Maybe you do hate him, and you just don't know it, then again, you'd still never admit to it. Because admitting that you hate Jake, well he'd just enjoy that too much.
He already loves watching you get irritated by him, loves knowing that he can get under your skin. But as long as you don't feed into it, as long as you fake a smile or pretend nothing is wrong, you have the upper hand.
You wish you could say you find enjoyment in that, but honestly, it's a bit exhausting.
You chuckle into your plastic cup, sipping the drink he made for you in the makeshift bar of the kitchen of whoever's house this is. Sam has been, for the most part of this year, trying to clear things up between you and Jake. He doesn't even know what started it, this unofficial grudge between you.
For you, it was when he said something about Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks that rubbed you the wrong way. For him, it was when you rolled your eyes at his Stevie Nicks joke and walked away. So basically, from the very first night you met. This turmoil has been persistent since the beginning.
Was it immature? Yes. Do adults act this way? They shouldn't. Will you and Jake ever see eye to eye?... debatable.
"I agree," you shrug, holding your cup between two hands. Sam's eyes peer over at you as you scan the crowded house. He's waiting for you to admit it. A smirk flashes across your features, "but then that would be a lie, wouldn't it?"
He scoffs, rolling his eyes, "Would it make it easier if I told you that he already hates you?"
You frown and shake your head, "I know that, I've known that for a while now. It's like, painfully obvious."
Now, you don't hate him (or so you say) but you do know that he hates you. To be hated by someone so arrogant around you, so proud, so douchebag-y, and to just treat it with nonchalance, in your eyes you've already won.
You don't care that Jake maybe hates you, because you simply don't give a shit about him. You're indifferent towards him.
There's something so sweet about that. Like holding a treat right above his head where he can't reach. I don't hate you; I don't care enough to do that.
You tell yourself it's fulfilling.
Who your eyes searching the people of the party for, you're not entirely sure. But, when they land on Jake, it's as if a question has been answered. So, he is here tonight... you make a note to avoid him at all costs.
The thing is, if you really hated Jake, wouldn't you want to argue with him? Wouldn't you go out of your way to bicker and snarl at him, to irritate him back? You never found the idea of that satisfying, so you've never quarreled with him. There have been those moments, after a party or an outing or a dinner you were invited to that he of course was at too, when you're in the shower or the looking in the bathroom mirror or fixing yourself a snack alone in your apartment where you'd play out this scenario in your mind. It consists of just you and Jake, sometimes an audience but most of the time not, and in this scenario, you tell him off. You yell and point fingers at him and call him all the names you've never had the courage or desire to call him in real life to his face. When you exit your daydream and go back to reality, there's always this hum in your bones, in your chest, similar to the feeling of getting turned on. You ignore it and move on.
You watch Jake, hoping the lights are dim enough to disguise where your line of vision lies. He looks around, over his shoulder, then pulls something out of his back pocket and turns his back, leaving the room. Your chest deflates. You decide the feeling is relief, but there's something else there. Is it disappointment? No, certainly not. Why would you ever be disappointed by Jake leaving?
You turn to look at Sam, but he stands up straight with his arms widened and steps towards someone he knows. You check their face, and it's a stranger you have never met. He introduces you to him, and you politely nod and smile, then you're excluded entirely from the conversation. Words like 'working on' and 'finishing up' are exchanged, clearly this is someone Sam works with.
Sam has countless work buddies, producers and musicians and lyricists. People who went to Berklee and Belmont, who wear funny clothes with funnier names. You stand back, quiet, not listening to anything they have to say because, honestly, it could be a foreign language. A minute goes past, still ignored. Another minute, and now you're bored. So, you leave.
Down the hall, back to the kitchen, you pour yourself a fresh drink, heavy with tequila. No one seems to judge, no one seems to really pay attention. With a simper you take your concoction and head out the back door, out onto the back deck.
It's a big house, a nice one. Part of you wonders if the owner is one of those fancy friends of the band, but you take a sip of your drink and the thought fades away. Whoever lives here is lucky. The deck is huge, with warm colored string lights hanging overhead, well-manicured yard with beautiful landscaping. You head over to the rail and gaze out into the darkness.
The buzz of the party penetrates the walls. The voices of guests are heard, the music playing is muffled. There are a few stragglers outside, a couple over by the steps, a loner with his cigarette, a drunk group of friends giggling out in the grass. You watch them for a minute, smiling at their shenanigans, then take another sip.
"Well well well..."
You turn at the voice, greeted by a wide, genuine Kiszka smile. Josh comes forward and gives you a hug, his cheek pressed against yours and a happy hum coming from his chest. You hug Josh back, the corners of your lips lifting almost instantly. It was instinct to smile whenever your eyes found Josh, impossible to hate him.
It was so odd, how you could love one twin so much over the other. Sometimes, you forget Josh is a twin at all...
"Hi Josh." You murmur, pulling back with rosy cheeks.
"How are you?" He asks and you just shrug. He shrugs back, "Figured I'd ask since you're playing solo out here."
You chuckle and shake your head, looking down at your boots. When you look back up with a gentle sigh, "I don't fit in with your friends."
He steps backward, looking you over. High waisted blue jeans with a flare at the boot, cute belt with a chunky buckle, a cropped muscle tank top because of the summer heat beginning to set in. It's true, you don't fit in, you stick out in the best of ways.
He waves your words off, "Half of them are colleagues, I wouldn't want to lump you in with those folks anyway, Y/N."
You have to appreciate that, even just a tad.
"What're you buttering me up for?" You hum under your breath turning so you can look back out into the yard.
He comes up beside you, ignoring your question, and instead taking the conversation in a completely different direction, "Sometimes I wonder how you and Sammy are such good friends when I'm right here. Look at us, sharing a cigarette," he pulls out a pack from his pocket, tapping the top of it with his palm, "talking into the night. And where's he?"
"Talking to whoever Scott is." You shrug.
"Oh fuck," he chuckles, putting the stick he pulls between his teeth, "guess I'll be staying out here a little longer... don't wanna run into him. You know, if I'm at a party, why talk work? I wanna forget about work for an hour of my life, ya know?"
Josh Kiszka, you have maybe the best job in the world...
You just nod, watching him with a smile. Josh was your pick me up, Sam is your rock. Josh keeps things light; Sam stays realistic. You watch him as he lights up, taking a drag and exhaling away from you.
"Thought you quit that." You judge him.
He takes another inhale with a shrug, "Yeah. Turns out vaping only makes me wanna smoke more."
You roll your eyes, holding your fingers out to take the cig. He passes it to you with a smile, watching as you take a drag of it yourself and exhale the smoke. Your eyes catch his, and for a split second all you see is Jake. Imagination takes hold, you wonder what it would be like to smoke with him instead, and then your grimace, giving him the cigarette back.
He chuckles at you with a tilted brow, "What? You don't like Marlboros?"
"No, no it's not that," you shake your head with a light laugh, taking a swig from your cup, then mumbling, "it's stupid."
"Now you have to tell me." He gives you a dopey grin, and when you shake your head he persists, "What? I love stupid, tell me."
You sigh, holding the cup against your chest. It feels cold, the cup is sweaty and the condensation leaks through your shirt, dampening the material.
"I just pictured myself sharing a cigarette with Jake."
He looks at you with a tight smile, his cheeks pushed up so his eyes squint slightly, and lets out a laugh that just really sounds like a quick 'hm' before turning and facing the yard himself now. You're both quiet for a moment, and you're about to defend yourself, say something like 'well, you wanted to know' but he speaks first.
"That would be quite the pairing." Is all he says before going quiet again, cigarette in his mouth.
You swallow, watching him and acting like the phrase doesn't bother you. It was full of amusement, pleasure, just a little condescending.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He looks at you from the side of his eye, "You know what it means."
"You're so fucking annoying."
He laughs loudly and carefree. A little deep, kind of bubbly. He laughs because you know what he's alluding to.
"You all feed off of my annoyance, that's it, isn't it?" You shake your head.
He shrugs, his laughter dying down, "I'm annoying?"
"Yeah," you nod.
He scoffs, "You're annoying."
You stop and stare at him, expecting a joking smile, a sarcastic look, but his face is aimed at the yard, and for the most part reads serious. Taking a breath, you look away again and let the silence take over.
You know the turmoil between you and Jake isn't necessarily enjoyable for everyone else. You're constantly annoyed by him, but you can only imagine how irritating it is for the people around you two.
He finishes off the cigarette, mumbling, "All that I said was that you and Jake would be an interesting pair because you guys have never once been seen remotely near one another."
"There's a reason for that." You grumble back.
"Wish there wasn't."
You want to roll your eyes, because when you got invited to this party you weren't expecting anything sappy. At parties you're supposed to be happy, right? Why the hell is Josh, of all people, ruining the mood?
A sigh comes from you, and your words come out before you can even think through them, "You want me to make an effort? Want me to talk to him?"
This makes him look to you, eyebrows raised with surprise. There's a sense of disbelief in his eyes, like he doesn't think you will.
His voice is doubtful and flat, "You'd really be willing to do that?"
You just shrug. Willingly talk to Jake? Never. Willing to just move on and make your friends happy? Sure.
"I..." you shake your head at yourself, lifting your hand before dropping it as if to bring in your thoughts, "I'm over it. I know it bothers you all so, I just want to stop avoiding him constantly."
Josh's lips turn up, softly smiling at you. Suddenly, he looks hopeful, trusting. God, now you really have to follow through with this.
He nods, "I just hate that I can't be in the same room as both of you. It's hard, my twin hating my friend. Vice versa."
"I don't hate Jake." You huff, defensive immediately.
"Yeah yeah yeah, okay." He chuckles, not even bothering to argue with that. He knows what you always say anyway.
We're indifferent.
That's a lie in itself though, isn't it? You claim to be indifferent towards Jake, but you certainly cannot speak for him. You know he doesn't feel indifferent towards you, you know that he hates you. Right?
Your eyes slide over to Josh.
"I'll talk to him tonight, okay?"
"I don't know about that." He shakes his head, "He uh..." Josh chuckles with his head down before continuing, "he was sort of advised by Sam to keep his distance from you."
You frown.
"He didn't want any trouble between you two tonight."
You stand silent for a few seconds, thinking. When was the last time you interacted with Jake anyway? You hardly saw him at last week's get together at Danny's, he didn't so much as look at you when you joined the group for bowling last month... This feeling of guilt and shame begins to swallow you up.
Jake's basically been the bigger person this entire time.
Your hands start shaking, body heating up with anger. Why wouldn't Sam just tell you? Why would he want you to admit something you don't believe instead of having you and Jake make amends? Why is he separating you when what really needs to happen is a unification?
"Don't go find him tonight, Y/N, please." Josh sighs, turning so his back is leant on the rail. He knows how your stubborn determination works sometimes.
"No, no I won't, but if I run into him, I can't promise there won't be an apology." You say back, keeping your voice even, "Believe it or not, I really don't want unnecessary malice between me and your twin."
"I never said I didn't believe that." He smiles.
Your eyes meet his, quietly asking, "So, you believe me?"
"I believe in you." He nods once.
You swallow, looking downward, then away from him. The unofficial promise of talking to Jake eventually, not necessarily tonight, and ending this "indifference" was intimidating. You haven't spoken to Jake in forever, the last time you talked could have genuinely been when you first met each other. All words exchanged between the two of you since then have been entirely indirect.
How would you start it? Should you just ignore all past interactions, perhaps start new? Or do you apologize? Oh, the very idea makes your blood boil, apologizing to Jake for nothing you did. You've done nothing wrong.
Josh watches anxiety mixed with fire wash over you, "Don't overthink it."
"M'not."
"You are," he chuckles, "I'd just tell him how you feel."
"What if he doesn't care?" You ask, looking to him then away because fuck is that embarrassing. It sounds like you care. Maybe you do...
He shrugs, "Then that's his own damn fault, and you tried. I can tell you mean well, that you really want to do this. Not for Sam, not for me, for you and Jake. It says a lot."
Your face burns and you try give him a casual nod. It's really just a stiff jerk of your head, your entire body feels tight, mouth is dry, neck is hot. You care, of course you care. You always have unknowingly cared, that's just who you are.
He pats your arms and stands up straight, "Alright, now I gotta go inside and find a girl to woo for the evening."
You chuckle, dismissing your mortification as swiftly as you can, "What, did I bore you?"
He rolls his eyes with a laugh, "Did I woo you?"
You tilt your head side to side, before shaking it. He laughs once more, turning and heading back inside, not without a wink back at you before the door closes behind him. You stand alone on the deck, thinking about what was just discussed, everything he told you, what you had told him.
The scenario of speaking to Jake turns your stomach into knots. You hate that it does. Why is it doing that? You're not supposed to care. You're supposed to be indifferent.
It shouldn't matter what Jake thinks. It shouldn't matter if he cares or not. This is for you. It's for your own sake, talking to him, hopefully putting an end to this childish behavior. But the fear of him being unwilling or even worse, dismissive towards patching this up worries you still. You think it's just because it would be extremely embarrassing to be the first one to give in, but deep down you really want it to work.
You look down into your now empty plastic cup.
I need another fucking drink.
Back inside you go, to the counter with the alcohol, mixing yourself your newest, and strongest, drink of the night, and finding yourself getting lost in this house. You try to decide who is the owner. Is it the man wearing the wild, neon colored button down? Surely not, this place is so... industrial, farmhouse, slightly bohemian. Your eyes find a girl in harem pants giggling with a guy with a long beard and thick glasses, perhaps they live here. She keeps twirling her car keys in her left hand though, telling you otherwise.
Either way, your feet lead you to the outskirts of the crowd, beside the walls. You analyze the decor, the books. So much about music and travel. Band biographies, thick guides about the French countryside. You reach the staircase, which is surprisingly secluded, making you wonder if the second floor is off limits. Slightly inebriated you seems to care less right now though, and you ascend the oak staircase.
You reach the top step, looking back down as a two girls curry past the stairs, then look back in front of you. It's so much quieter up here, darker. You slowly walk down the hall, looking at the patterned rug beneath your boots, wonder if you should take them off up here out of respect for the owner. There's a door halfway open at the end of the hallway, and instead of peeking in every room along the way, you head straight toward the one door that seems to call your name.
Carefully, you open the door further, and step inside. It's dark, only the light from the moon outside lighting the room in cool tones, showing you just enough.
A desk with books and papers and journals scattered around a laptop. Guitars of all shapes and sizes and types litter the far side of the room. You spot a keyboard off in the corner, an easel in the other corner. Curiosity fills you to the brim.
This one little room tells you so much about whoever is hosting, and you're so drawn to it all. Whoever it is, is fascinating. Incredibly skilled, a person of many talents. You step further inside, eyes looking over all the stringed instruments, some, you discover as you approach, are not even guitars. The desire to find out who it is that can play all of them is massive.
You glance over at the easel. It holds a canvas with just a rough outline of painting yet to come. In the darkness you can just barely make out the outline of a landscape piece, a field with a lonesome tree.
Then, the desk. Part of you wants to get closer, to read the pages, to get a better hint at who could be the one that's in here all the time, but your feet don't move. This is already such an invasion of someone's privacy.
I need to go.
You turn to leave, but someone in the doorway startles you.
"Sorry," he says, holding his hands up to show you he means no harm, "I didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay," you breathe out, squinting slightly to see who it is.
You've never seen him before. Short, dark hair, angular face, piercing eyes. Maybe this is the owner...
"I promise, I'm not stalking you," he lets out a nervous chuckle, "I saw you outside, I wanted to talk to you, but you left before I got the chance."
You nod, soft smile on your face as you jokingly ask, "So you followed me?"
He shrugs shamelessly, "Guess I did."
You stop and look at him through the dimness of the room, deciding whether or not you should talk to him or not. After a few seconds, you turn your head, looking for a light switch.
"Is there a light in here we can turn on? I... it's just so dark." You mumble, glancing around the room, spotting a lamp on the desk as well as a chest of drawers nearby the door.
You turn on the desk lamp while he flicks on the other, and the room is washed with an orange glow, allowing you both to get a better look at each other. He wears round glasses that frame his blue eyes, his tan skin sprinkled with freckles, stubble coating his jaw and chin and upper lip. He looks friendly, seems friendly.
He looks you once over slowly, and when his eyes meet yours, a smile spreads across his lips, "You're beautiful."
You hate that you blush, but you do, and wave him off with a chuckle, "Thank you,"
"I'm Damian, by the way." He says, and you tell him your name in return, to which he smoothly replies with, "Pretty name, fitting."
"You better stop." You shake your head at him, turning your face away as if to hide it, and when you look back, he's come closer.
At first, you don't notice that the door has been shut, because you're captivated by his eyes. But, when shuffles to the left, you note that no longer is it open. You don't overthink it much either, thank the alcohol for your easiness this evening, otherwise you'd be pacing the entire estate. That's what this place is, isn't it? Big enough to be one at least. You really should've asked Sam who's place this is.
"Or what?" He hums, the smug smirk on his face reads as playful, the tone in his voice teasing in a flirtatious way.
Is that how he sees it? You didn't necessarily plan on romancing tonight, but who are you to decline? He's good looking, seems like a nice guy, did follow you up here, but you'll take the light stalking as a form of flattery.
Your smile softens as you look back at him, "I'm terrible with compliments, I can never seem to return them."
He chuckles at that, shrugging as he boldly takes your hand in his, "Sounds like you're terrible at giving compliments. Does that mean you're used to receiving them?"
Your lips part as you search for an answer, your eyes moving up to his cap as you think. The front of it reads a production company, beneath the logo in smaller lettering reads WGA. You nearly begin to smirk, discovering why it seems like this guy has a line for everything. He's a writer, half of what he's saying probably is or will be in a sitcom one day. God forbid this very moment gets written into short film.
The pixie dream girl would reply with something witty, wouldn't you like to know perhaps, or can't say this isn't my first one. You don't give away your lines though, instead just offer a shy shrug because honestly, you don't know what to say, and slip your hand from his grasp. You don't know this guy at all aside from the little information his cap is giving you.
"You have to be." He inches closer.
These lines might have worked on people in the past, but not you. There's something about him now, it makes you uneasy. You don't want this you only came up here to get away from everyone for a moment and he followed you. Suddenly you're stiff, suddenly you're backed up to the wall, and suddenly he's leaning in, and you can't get the words out.
Get away from me, your mind screams, but your voice stays caught in your throat. You tell yourself to move your arms up, to push him away from you, but you don't react. He comes in closer, pushing your hair off your shoulder and tracing his fingertips down your arm, touching your waist. His mouth finds your neck, kissing you tenderly and making you cringe. You make no effort to reciprocate this touch, standing there with your arms at your side and your eyes wide open.
You sigh and look away as you let him have his moment, to the wall on the far side, with the stringed instruments. Most electric, different makes and models. All beautiful.
A shiny black one with a wide, curved body. A smaller white one with a poplar wood pick guard. An amber colored one with that same curved body, mahogany neck. There's a space in the center, an empty rung, and you wonder where the missing guitar is. Your eyes follow down toward the two stands on the floor, supposedly where the most played instruments go to rest, and you frown softly.
An acoustic, black with some design surrounding the sound hole, besides a burgundy-colored electric. Wait... you've definitely seen these before. The beat-up electric guitar, with distinct scratches and dents, and that black acoustic with the birds and branches... you rack your brain.
Who has the same guitars as Jake?
It’s when your eyes land on the harmonica sitting on then chest that a a light switch seems to be flipped in your mind, you suddenly realize whose study this is. Your breath gets caught in your chest and your legs go numb a little. This is Jake's fucking house.
"Oh my gosh..." you whisper to yourself, trying to move but he's got you pinned with his body. "We need to go."
"No we don't," he says back, ignoring your words as he traces his lips over your skin, "we're good here. No one will find us."
It's not that. You don't care about him or being alone with him it's where you are. You're at Jake's house, in his study, without him knowing.
You're about to open your mouth and say something else, but the door opens, and you watch someone step in. Someone with long, messy hair and a beat-up pair of boots to match his old blue jeans.
It's Jake.
He looks puzzled, probably wondering why the lights are on in here, and then spots you cowered against the wall. His brows raise and he immediately takes a step back, unsure of what to do with himself. Confront the two of you in his studio, or exit and pretend like he saw nothing.
His eyes lock with yours, unable to read the panic on your face that you feel in your entire body, so he begins to turn away, and that's when you say it.
"Jake." Your voice is barely there, but he hears it perfectly clear, and stops mid-turn and looks at you once more.
Fuck, you're in trouble. And as much as he dislikes you, he will not leave you here alone with whoever this is.
The man chuckles, breath fanning over your neck as he gives you a clueless reply, "No, Damian, remember?"
Jake clears his throat, and that's when he finally backs off. Turning, he's surprised to see a third person in the room and frowns, looking back at you, then to Jake again.
"Yeah?" He asks, completely unaware.
Jake scoffs, looking him over and nods his head back to the door, "Get out of my house, man."
You can't see Damian's face, but you're sure it's a mix of offense and shock. He glances back at you once again, but your eyes are trained to the floor. You listen to his footsteps as he leaves and his feet pound down the staircase. You don't look up even when he's gone.
Jake watches you closely, quietly asking, "Are you okay?"
With a nod you whisper back, "Yeah."
He doesn't believe you, but he won't push it. He doesn't want to not push it, not necessarily. He wants you to be okay, but it almost feels like he isn't supposed to ask you stuff like this. It almost feels wrong to help you in general. How fucked up is that?
"Alright," he nods slowly, stepping back again with his hand on the doorknob, "do you need a minute?"
Your jaw sets as you blink, heat spreading up the back of your neck, curling around to the front and up to your face. You're so embarrassed, mortified. You just had to ask Jake for help, and he did, and you can't even look up at him. You can't even bring yourself to thank him.
Taking a deep breath, finally your eyes look up and you nod softly, "Yeah."
He nods, going to close the door, "Okay, I'll just..." he begins to leave and, still in your antsy state, you hold your hand up for him to stop.
"Wait, I-" you what? You're not sure, but then you say, "don't go."
He pauses and stares at you. Jake has always been impossible to read, and even right now you can't tell what he's thinking. He's shocked though, even though his face says nothing. His heart for some reason won't stop hammering in his chest, maybe it's because he wasn't expecting this. Wasn't expecting to see you in here, let alone with some guy. Wasn't expecting to hear your voice say his name and wasn't expecting to kick a guy out tonight. The only reason he came up here was to get away from everyone. Now he's staying up here with you, of all the people. You.
His hand is still on the door and you're halfway expecting him to leave anyway, but he doesn't. His hand lets go and he steps back in, cross his arms and standing a good few feet away from you. He doesn't ask why, it's like he already knows.
Right now, the last thing you want is to go back to the crowded downstairs. But also, you don't want to be left alone either. So, he stays.
It's silent between you two, and you try to catch your breath and reel in your thoughts but it's so difficult. He's standing right there and saying nothing, not even looking at you. It's like he's waiting for you to let him go, and it would be easier if you did but you just can't.
You shake your head softly, bringing a hand up to your face and swiping some hair out of your eyes, mumbling, "I'm sorry."
He doesn't acknowledge your apology, even though it is unnecessary. You shouldn't have apologized; this wasn't your fault. But instead, like a jerk, he changes the subject.
"You know, I was told not to interact with you tonight." He says, voice deep and slow, like Sam is around the corner and at any moment could see his brother breaking his promise.
You sigh, "I know-"
"So let's just leave it at that." He mutters under his breath and turns to go.
Your eyes look up and brows furrow together, watching him storm towards the door. Taking a brave step forward you speak before you think, "God, why do you hate me so much?"
Expecting him to leave without another word, he surprises you when he abruptly stops and turns back. Dark eyes, stern face, a scowl of sorts. He's not happy.
"I could ask you the same damn thing."
You roll your eyes, starting, "I don't hate you we're just-"
"Indifferent?" He cuts you off with a mocking voice, and it would be a lie if it didn't hurt a little. It hurts even more when you look up and see his smirking face. It’s that one look that lets you know everything.
His face softens when he notices yours, that sad, offended look on it. You shake your head, wondering why you even tried, why you even wanted to fix things between you two because clearly, it's too far gone. Clearly, it's so messy that there is no chance of recovery now and you and Jake will always and forever hate each other.
You hate Jake Kiszka.
That lump in your throat, ache in your chest, turns into a burning, angry heat that covers your entire body and you look up with a frown and frustrated tears. The shine of your eyes makes his heart drop, sorrow and regret filling him up immediately. He opens his mouth to say something as you stalk toward the door, storming past him and out of the room, pounding down the stairs, pushing through people and out onto the front porch. His front porch.
God, this has been his stupid house the entire time and you didn't even know it.
Catching your breath alone outside, you childishly kick a potted plant and let it shatter before walking down the steps and to the sidewalk. Pacing back and forth, pulling your phone out, debating who to call or text. You try Sam, but after two rings hang up, deciding not to bother him. If anything, right now you shouldn't see him either. Then you try Josh, but it goes to voicemail as do most of your calls to him. Stopping in your tracks, you groan and turn towards the street, finally giving in and just booking an Uber home.
It's when you get in the backseat, after the small chatter with the driver, when you stare out the window silently, just with your thoughts, a tear slips out, then another. A steady, silent flow of defeated tears.
Because, yes, you've come to the conclusion that you do hate Jake Kiszka, but also that he hates you back. And for some reason that hurts so much worse than it did when you convinced yourself this was just indifference.
Finally you're home, and you decide to take a shower hoping that stripping your clothes from the night and washing your skin will rid the memories of it. You find yourself replaying him coming in and staying and then breaking your heart.
Breaking your heart? That can't be right. How can someone you hate break your heart?
You get out, dry yourself with a towel, and slip into bed. Going to turn your bedside lamp off, your phone begins to vibrate, and assuming it's either Josh or Sam returning your earlier call, you answer without checking it.
"Hello?"
"Where'd you go?"
It's a voice so much like Josh's, but lacking that bubbly tone, sounding more solemn, apologetic almost. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pull the phone away to reveal the random number you never felt the desire to save in your contacts because you never thought you'd ever be having a phone call with Jake. With your mouth hanging open and your eyes wide, you instantly press the end call button and shut your phone off completely.
Shaking, from the adrenaline, whether caused by anger, sadness, or both, you turn over and hold your pillow tight. You don't bother turning the lamp off, because your eyes refuse to close, your body refuses sleep. You don't rest well that night, just stay awake, thinking of him, and wondering why he called.
Eventually, you do fall asleep, and you wake it's with a startled gasp and a pounding sound coming from your front door. Looking around disoriented, you rub the sleep from your eyes and try to wake yourself up, kicking your covers off and halfway awake, stumble to the door.
"Hold on!" You grumble out, voice scratchy from sleep. You get to the door and peek around the curtain, exhaling when you see Sam standing there with his arms crossed and worried look on his face. You unlock the door and open it. "I'm sorry I'm sorry-"
"Are you kidding me?" He exhales, exasperated. You think he knows about what happened between you and Jake last night, but as he steps in and pulls you into a hug, he says, "You scared the shit out of me! Why didn't you answer your phone?"
You shake your head, pulling away from him, "I turned it off last night."
He huffs again, pulling out his phone to text Josh, letting him know you're okay, "I was looking everywhere for you last night after you tried to call me. Josh tried reaching you, I even asked Jake if he knew where you were, but he said he didn't see you at all last night."
Oh. So Jake didn't tell anyone.
It relieves you and disappoints you simultaneously.
You yawn and shrug trying to ignore the sting that comes with knowing Jake didn't try to help them find you. Like he doesn't care. He probably doesn't care, but you must care a little if you hate someone, right?
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"I was so worried." He stresses, "You're lucky I didn't come here last night."
Jake calmed Sam down enough to convince him to sleep last night and check on you in the morning. As soon as he woke up he headed straight over here, which explains his messy hair and wrinkled t-shirt.
"Did you even brush your teeth this morning?" You laugh lightly, closing the door and leading the way towards your kitchen.
He follows, "Can I just have some coffee please? You kinda owe me right now. I could hardly even sleep last night."
That makes two of us.
The coffee is brewed strong. Sam is generous with the cream and sugar. You keep it light. You need the wake up.
Sam tries his best to get to spend the day with you, but you won't allow it, telling him to go out and do something more productive. All you really want to do is crawl under the covers and sulk on your Saturday.
You hate that you're so upset over this. You wish you could just say 'so what?' and move on. So what he saved you from that guy last night? So what he stayed with you afterward? So what he called you and asked where you were? So what he did all of that and yet he hates you? So what?
You find your phone where you left it last night, and temptation wins you over. You press the power button, waiting for the screen to come to life, and when it does, you check the notifications. There are multiple missed calls from Sam as well as texts. A few texts from Josh asking the same thing Sam was. Then, there's that same number from last night. A single text.
Call me back. We should talk.
You stare at it, debating whether or not this is a good idea. You tried last night, and it didn't work. What's the point of giving it another shot? It's hard to convince yourself there is no point in this, because there is. To repair a bridge that burnt down too early that connected you to Jake. You need to rebuild it before any more damage is done.
You're so scared though. Last night it was different because you had that liquid courage flowing through your veins. Now, completely sober with the affects and memory from last night, you're so hesitant to reach out. Without a tipsy pep talk and shared cigarette from Josh, you're unable to confront his twin.
So you turn your phone off and set it out of reach, grabbing one of your favorite books instead and burying your nose in it. Hours pass, morning turns to afternoon, and then evening comes. You've spent the entire day in bed, absorbed in between the pages of your book, unaware of anything else. But, it's like as soon as you close the book and set it aside, reality sets in.
With a heavy sigh you get up and get dressed at 5 pm, figuring better late than never. Spotting the clothes from last night in a pile on the bathroom floor, you wear your favorite midi dress rather than anything like last night's outfit. You want to get as far away from last night as possible. It feels like no matter how much time goes by, you're still there in his house.
Deciding it'll do you some good to get out of the house, you grab your keys and bag and head to your favorite diner for some take out. You call in your order on the way, pay when you get there, and wait nearby for your food to be ready.
You stand there on your phone, scrolling mindlessly, listening for your name to be called out.
"Jake?" Someone from behind the counter calls out.
Then name makes you look up slyly, because how perfect would it be for him to here at the same time you are? It's crazy how coincidental that would be. Because he can't be here. Right?
You gasp softly, watching as none other than Jake himself walks up and takes the small paper bag from them. He smiles softly and thanks them, placing a tip in their jar and turning away. You don't mean to stare, and he can feel your eyes on him, so as he moves, he catches you, and it's too late. You try to look away, thinking he maybe won't recognize you if you pretend you never saw him. But of course he recognizes you, how can he not? Your face is practically engrained in his mind.
To make matters worse, your name is called for your order. But you don't move, you can't. Jake waits for you to walk up, a smile of amusement spreading on his lips. He isn't moving until you do.
"Excuse me? Miss?" The girl behind the counter looks at you expectantly, holding out your bag for you to take.
"M'sorry," you mumble, quickly walking up to her and taking your food and turning back to leave.
Your wishes to avoid Jake seem to have been answered because when you move around, expecting to see him there still, he's gone. He must have left, and you let out a sigh of relief, calmly exiting the restaurant. You thank the stranger who holds the door for you and pull your keys out for your car and start toward the parking lot.
"Hey," a voice from behind stops you.
Fuuuuuuuck.
Your shoulders drop and your close your eyes, taking a breath before giving up and just turning around. He stands there, faded blue jeans and a black button down, hardly buttoned in true Jake Kiszka fashion. You always found it douchey, why is it oddly attractive now though? That thought alone is repulsive and you shake it away immediately.
"What do you want?" You exhale, looking away from him.
He licks his lips and steps forward, "I want to talk to you."
Flicking your eyes back to him, you spot the sincerity on his face, how willing he is right now. You press your lips together in a thin line, thinking it over. Your mind is telling you two things at once: run away immediately and stay to listen. You can't tell which is the best decision.
While you stand there silently, he lifts his bag and raises a brow, "Maybe we can talk over dinner? Do you have anywhere you need to be?"
You could lie, you could say you have plans for tonight, but you don't. The only plans you had were to go home and mope into your BLT.
How was it so easy for him to get you here? Sat at one of the tables on the patio of the restaurant. You slouch childishly in your chair, refusing to take your food out. Jake digs in freely, totally unfazed by all of this. You're too on edge to eat, too stubborn. God forbid you share a meal with the man you hate.
"You bought food just to not eat it?" He speaks around his sandwich.
Your roll your eyes and cross your legs, "I didn't plan on eating with you."
"Well, don't let it go to waste," he shakes his head, waving his hand to the bag, "eat before it gets cold."
"Don't tell me what to do." You spit out coldly, narrowing your eyes.
He scoffs, shaking his head at you with an unamused look, "Whatever."
You sit there silently for another few minutes, watching him eat. He says nothing to you, and you groan in frustration.
"You're making me stay but you want even talk to me? What do you even want?"
"I'm not making you stay at all," he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, looking out to the parked cars, "you made the decision to stay with me. I said talk over dinner. You're the one who agreed and is unhappy with it."
You frown, standing up abruptly, making the metal chair scrape loudly against the ground and say, "Okay, then I'm leaving."
"Come on," he rolls his eyes at you, as if you're being dramatic. Maybe you are.
"I'm not gonna waste my time. Bye Jake." You brush him off, walking to your car as he sits there watching you.
He knows he should do something, knows he should get up and chase after you, stop you. But he doesn't. In all honesty, he doesn't know how. He's never chased after a girl, let alone you. He doesn't know how he would even go about it, so it's best he just stays put. That's what he tells himself.
It's when your halfway home, and stomach growls, you look over to the passenger seat only to find that your food has been accidentally abandoned with Jake. You whine to yourself in frustration, a pout on your lips the rest of the way home, thinking about your order just sitting on the table, growing cold and soggy.
At home you shuffle to the pantry, prepare a dinner of boxed macaroni and wine, and slouch on your sofa, putting on the first romantic comedy you can find. You had the hugest crush on Cameron from 10 Things I Hate About You when you were younger, but for some reason now when you watch the movie, you just see yourself playing Kat, and Jake, Patrick.
Around 8:30, mid-romance-movie-marathon, your doorbell rings. You frown and pause the film, placing your now third glass of wine down and getting up to see who it is. Peeking through the curtains, but you find that no one is there. Opening the door with confusion, you look out, and whoever was here left just one piece of evidence behind: a small paper bag on your door mat.
You squat, checking the receipt taped onto the front, reading the same order you had placed earlier only with Jake's name at the top of it. How does he even know where you live? Your stubbornness nearly convinces you to leave it on the step, you can't possibly eat this food he got for you. But your tummy growls again, and the writing at the bottom of the ticket catches your eye.
I'm ready to talk whenever you are.
You scoff as you snatch the bag, bringing it inside with you and crumbling the receipt, devouring your favorite BLT on the couch, and resuming your movie. Glancing at your empty wine glass, then your phone, you sigh, grab it, and send him a text message.
You want to talk? Come back tomorrow with wine.
It's crazy how fast he replies, almost instantly. Almost like he was waiting for it.
Whatever you say princess.
You roll your eyes, but this time, a smile is tugging at the right side of your mouth.
"This is seriously the only way to get you to talk?"
He holds up the bottle of rosé, a choice you weren't expecting from him, as he climbs your front porch steps and you hold the door open for him.
You give him a cheeky shrug, "Maybe."
He scoffs as he steps inside and makes his way toward your kitchen, asking over his shoulder, "Was the food not enough?"
You shut the door and follow him, snatching the bottle from his hands and heading towards the drawer where you keep the corkscrew. Placing it on the counter, you look up as he comes over to face you and places his hands on the countertop, watching you with hard eyes.
You begin to unscrew it, giving a snarky reply, "Do you want me to talk or not?"
He tilts his head as he watches you, replying in a deep voice, "Wanted you to talk yesterday. But you stormed off."
"Wasn't ready for a chat with you, honestly." You huff, pulling out the cork and fetching two wine glasses.
He oddly enjoys the way you move around in here, how comfortable you're acting, how comfortable he feels. Maybe it's because you're both in your house, maybe that's why you aren't so tense. But then why isn't he? Shouldn't he feel out of place? Why doesn't this place seem foreign to him?
"So you're ready now?" He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.
You pour yourself a glass, sliding the bottle to him, then lifting the glass by the stem and taking a sip, "Now I am."
The two of you end up sitting on your back porch, you felt like the fresh air would make it easier to breathe. The bottle sits on the small table between you two. No stalling occurs tonight.
"So," he says, crossing his legs and looking over at you, "Friday night."
"I don't know who that guy was, he followed me up there." You mumble, your voice sounding deep and echoey in the glass as you take a sip.
His eyebrows pull together in a frown, "Followed you?"
You nod as you swallow and close your eyes. He watches you closely, watches the way your throat looks, the way you lick your lips, the way you slowly flutter your eyes open. He ignores that tripping feeling in his stomach as he waits for you to continue.
"I was outside with Josh. He told me he followed me upstairs. I don't know... I think he thought I wanted more but I just wanted to be alone." You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you think it all over again. Your eyes slowly look up to his, and you softly say, "Thanks for helping me. I don't know if I thanked you."
You didn't, but he doesn't say anything about it. Because instead of thanking him that night, you apologized, and looking back on it now, that upsets him. You had nothing to apologize for.
He shakes his head with a shrug, "I couldn't just leave you there. Then what?"
You shrug, "I don't know. Guess you'd prove my point."
"And what's your point?"
You lick your bottom lip then bite it. Your point is that Jake Kiszka is a dick and he hates you, but it seems irrelevant now. Because now he's sitting here with you and you're actually talking to one another, and it seems like you both are making an effort here.
You shake your head, "The point now is that my point has been proven wrong."
"But what was your point to begin with?" His mouth lifts at the corner.
You blink at him, taking your time with your response, "That you hate me."
He grins, "And what about you?"
"I don't know."
"You don't hate me?" There's a sense of hopefulness in his voice that both of you detect easily but choose to ignore.
"I said I don't know."
He sits back and stares at you, taking a long sip from his wine glass. You mirror him, but instead look out into the yard, watching birds fly back to their nests, tress sway softly in the wind, the sky turn dusty purple as the night rolls in.
"Why do you have to be so difficult?" He chuckles, looking down at his shoes, "I mean, just say what you feel, Y/N."
Naturally, you glare at him, "How do you know what I feel?"
"I don't," he shakes, narrowing his brown eyes back at you, setting his glass down and lifting his hands with a shrug, "but you always skip around the questions. It's always 'I don't know' or 'maybe' or..." he licks his lips, grinning as he looks away again and mumbles, "feeling indifferent."
The wine has gotten to your head quicker than his, so it makes sense why you have lost control over your tongue before he has. You sit up to the edge of your seat with a sharp gaze zeroed in on him.
"You know what conclusion I came to on Friday night when I got home?" You hiss.
He watches you like an interested cat, perched in its spot, too lazy to pounce but wanting a show none the less. His voice is low, nearly a whisper, slowly shaking his head as he says, "Tell me."
You take a quick, deep breath in, and says, "I hate you, Jake. And you hate me."
He clasps his hands together and steadies his feet on the porch, looking at you with excitement in his eyes, "So you finally confess it."
"But," you hold up a finger, slowly tilting it until it points at him, "in order to hate something, you have to care about, it just a little."
You're expecting him to frown or sit back defeated or stare at you puzzled, but he doesn't. In fact, his grin transforms into a devilish smile and he comfortable leans back in his seat, looking at you no differently.
"Oh, I already knew that." He twitches an eyebrow upward, brings his hand up to stroke over his upper lip and chin, "I also know something else, but I don't know if you want to hear it tonight."
With blazing cheeks and gritted teeth, you murmur, "What is it?"
He puckers his lips with a smile and looks away, shaking his head, "Nah. I think we should save it for our next session."
"Just," you sigh, sitting back and bring your fingers to your temples, softly saying, "tell me what it is, Jake."
"The opposite of to hate is to care. But the opposite of being indifferent, which is what you have been saying we are this entire time, is to be curious. To be excited." Now he sits up and leans his elbows on his knees, staring at you with lowered eyelids, "So, Y/N, tell me. Do I pique your curiosity? Do I excite you?"
You look appalled, shaking your head and immediately responding, "No."
It's so easy to see through your lie. A lie you've been telling yourself this entire time that now you can finally tell isn't true.
"Not even a little?"
"No, Jake." You're too quick again, but your voice is softer. He's still smirking, and when you look up at him, you say, "Stop."
"Come on," he whispers, adjusting himself in his seat so he's more comfortable, "you have to work with me here."
"I want to work with you in a different way." You sigh, crossing your legs at the ankle and staring down at your shoes, "Believe it or not I don't want this to not work, I want us to be able to tolerate the other."
"Well, believe it or not, I want it to be better than just that." He mumbles back.
He means it. And it would be a lie if he said he wasn't curious about yourself. Who you are, really, and if what his brothers tell him is true. You're more alike than you are different, and if you could just grow up, a friendship will be revealed. He wants that. He wants to befriend you.
"We have to work together, Jake." You say, "This isn't a me adjusting to you or you adjusting to me thing. I won't work with you if you don't work with me."
He nods in agreement, "Okay, yeah."
You nod with him and after a breath, ask, "So, how do we do this?"
"Wait what?" Josh and Sam's jaws drop in sync.
"Don't make this a big deal." Jake sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he toes his boots on.
Josh shakes his head, cautiously approaching his supposed brother. Who knows, maybe this is a look alike, or someone in a costume. Because what does he mean by this all of the sudden?
"I'm not, I'm just-"
Sam cuts him off, "You're hanging out with her?"
Too be fair, it's a valid response. Just last week, literally, you hated each other. And now, here he is getting ready to go see you.
"Yes." He grunts, getting the other boot on and standing up, passing by Sam with a pat to his arm, "What? Are you jealous?"
He's playing it off as best as he can. His uneasiness, nervousness, excitement. He's all three right now, which is kind of weird, but he can't deny the exhilaration he feels, going to see you, of all people. There are so many ways tonight can play out, and he has no idea which route you're gonna take.
He tells himself he doesn't care how tonight ends. In reality though, he's leaning toward the one with a happy ending rather than a tragedy.
Sam shakes his head as he watches Jake move to the kitchen, pouring himself a shot, "No... are you nervous?"
He shrugs, taking it back and swallowing it down, "Cut me some slack, I've never hung out with her before like this."
"Like this?" Sam's incredulity grows.
"What else have you been hiding from us, brother?" Josh hums, coming over, taking the tequila and pouring himself his own shot just for fun.
Jake looks at Josh and shrugs again, "We saw each other on Sunday, this is how we planned this."
"You mean, this was both your ideas?" Sam asks.
"Please stop acting so goddamn shocked." Jake rolls his eyes.
Sam raises his hands in defense, "To be fair, you have always said you hated her. So, yeah, I'm gonna be a little shocked."
Josh waves him off, pouring another shot in the glass and bringing it over to Sam, asking Jake as he does so, "Where are you going?"
"This is so lame."
"What happened to working with each other?" You lift a brow at him and approach the front desk.
He said you could choose anything. Literally anything. A movie, restaurant, concert, hiking, snorkeling, skydiving, a fucking couple's massage session. And you choose pottery.
Because of course you choose something that neither of you have ever tried. Of course you want to make this slightly uncomfortable for him.
The man at the desk explains to you where to head for the beginner's class and the two of you head down the hall together and enter the room. Large tables are spread evenly throughout the room and multiple potters' wheels sit in the back. There's a decent sized group here this evening, everyone interacting and chatting before it begins.
You walk in and look around, soon enough being sucked into a conversation with the people around you. Jake ends up talking to a man with rounded glasses and a Pink Floyd t-shirt on. The shorter girl with long brown hair that he came with talks to you.
"Me and my boyfriend came tonight too," she chuckles, then nods over to where Jake and her boyfriend are.
"Oh, he's not..." you glance back at Jake, his hair tied back in a low knot and his sunglasses perched on top of his head.
The man gestures to you, making Jake look back and catch your eyes. He smiles at you. Not a smile out of politeness, or a tight lipped one just for niceties. A genuine, warm smile. It makes your mouth instinctively curl into its own smile, your heart flutter a little, and you wave softly over at him to which he nods at before turning away.
"Sorry, what was that?" She asks, making you look back to her.
You shake your head, laughing it off and continuing, "We're just both excited is all."
When the instructor comes in, the girl says goodbye, and you turn to face where he stands. Jake reappears by your side, which he really didn't have to do, but for some reason it brings you comfort that he did.
"Good evening, everyone, so glad you could make it," the instructor begins by introducing himself with a thick Australian accent.
You glance over at Jake who looks down at you and widens his eyes ever so slightly, making the acknowledgment that yes, he hears the pattern too. You look away with a soft smile. In a room full of strangers with Jake Kiszka, you feel like you've known him forever, and that nothing has ever separated you two.
After the quick introduction and directions on the basics, he tells you what tonight's lesson will be.
"A simple bowl. Or a pot. Easy, and I'm sure with a bright group like yours," the instructors eyes linger on you for a second longer than everyone else, "I'm sure you can handle it. Alright, let's get your clay!"
Jake scoffs and leans down to murmur, "Looks like someone has a crush on you."
"Please shut up." You roll your eyes with a smile as you walk over to find an apron and cut your clay.
Jake follows, grabbing the last one from the hook where they are provided, and groaning. You turn to him with confusion as you slip yours over your head.
"What's wrong?"
He looks at you with the apron in his hands still, the front facing him, and a pleading look on his face as he says, "Please switch with me Y/N, please."
You smirk proudly as you tie up your apron and plant your hands on your hips, voice haughty when you say, "Oh, I like you begging Kiszka."
His begging face drops into a serious one, realizing you will not be switching. So, he begrudgingly slips it on and begins trying to tie it in the back. Thankfully enough chatter has filled the room to cover up your burst of laughter when you see the front of the hot pink, frilly apron surely someone's gag gift at one point or another. Behind dried on clay it reads in big bold print "stand back mommy is cooking".
Through tears, you pull your phone out, "Please," it's a gasp through your hiccupping laughter as you tap on the camera app, "don't move. Stand right there."
"Oh my god..." he doesn't even try to fight it, standing there with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Halfway finding the situation funny himself, but also loving the sound of your laugh. “At least help me tie it, please.”
Still giggling, you come behind him and lace the apron. You look up, studying the back of him. How is it possible for him to be attractive on the front and the back? You step away and move over to the clay and cut your portions. Then together, you find two potter's wheels beside each other and follow the instructor's directions.
"Now make sure you clay is centered because if you don't..." he slams his clay on the plate slight off center and tries to mold it, but begins jiggling around, "this happens."
The group chuckles lightly, getting the picture and one by one people begin to center their clay. You smash your clay onto the plate then watch Jake do the same. He gives it an extra smack for good measure which you shake your head and chuckle at as you wet your hands in the bucket of water and start spinning the wheel with the pedal.
Jake follows your lead really, looking to you when he's struggling, copying your movements, despite you being a beginner too. He trusts you though, which is why he is constantly checking to make sure his looks like yours.
After a few failed attempts of pulling up your clay with a hollowed center, the instructor spots you and comes over.
"Oh no dearie, like this, slow down your wheel." Jake watches as he leans over you from behind, lightly touching your outer knee for you to let off the pedal slightly. His eyes narrow on their own when he places his hands on either side of yours, "There you go, keep your hands firm. Yes, like that. Good!"
He steps away and Jake watches as he backs off, unsure of what to do with himself. It was almost like he just watched that one scene from Ghost right in front of him real time, but maybe he's over exaggerating. While distracted by what just occurred, his clay caves in on itself and he pulls his hands away.
"Shit." He mutters to himself, shaking his head and wiping his slimy hands on the front of his apron.
The instructor comes around and nudges Jake's shoulder gently, "Ah, you'll get the hang of it mate."
He walks off and Jake's frown deepens as he looks up. Looks like he isn't getting pointers like you were. When he looks back over at you, you're stifling a laugh at his failure of a pot, and when he spots your smiling eyes, it makes his mouth twitch. Then, you stick your tongue out at him and focus back on your work.
He chews the inside of his cheek, watching you zone in and concentrate deeply. Leant over with your sleeves rolled up, short pieces of hair falling out from the bandana you wore tonight and in front of your face. He thinks you look kind of pretty, and as soon as that thought enters his mind, he snaps out of it.
"You know," he slows his wheel down, leaning toward you on his stool and murmuring softly with his eyes down, "you should make a flowerpot, to replace the one you kicked off my doorstep."
Your heart drops and your eyes widen, the cup you were molding crushing in your hold. You stop your wheel and look at him with red cheeks. You had honestly forgotten about the immature moment you had the night of the party. Letting your anger win you over.
Swallowing thickly with a dry mouth, you stammer, "I- uh, I... how'd you know it was me?"
He chuckles and shrugs, "Lucky guess."
You roll your eyes, scraping the clay off and starting over, "I'll get you a new one, okay?"
"You don't have to." He shakes his head.
"You brought it up, and now I feel bad," you felt bad afterwards too, "so I'm getting you a damn flowerpot."
He chuckles again, getting back to his own wheel.
Eventually, after many struggles, you both come to terms that your bowl-shaped pottery will just be shitty looking. You both take pictures of each other with your artwork (if you can even really call it that) and a fellow potter volunteers to take a photo for you two. Leaning into one another, you both beam with your pieces. She hands the phone back and you're both still leaned in together, looking at the picture with your heads almost touching.
You both look at each other with soft smiles and slowly back away, moving to place your clay out to dry. While you wash your hands the instructor explains that in two days you can come back to glaze your pieces and that he'll fire them after that, and you and Jake look at each other questioningly.
"Are they even worth keeping?" He asks.
You chuckle, "Yours? No. Mine? Duh. I'm like Picasso."
"Picasso was a painter," he points out with a laugh, taking off the horrid apron he was stuck with.
You just nudge him teasingly with your elbow and go put your own apron away, moving to grab your things. He follows, and as everyone clears out the instructor says goodbye at the door. When you leave, you're stopped, and Jake doesn't notice until he is halfway down the hall.
He watches as the instructor speaks to you, smiling and complimenting you. You smile back, but not in the same way. You smile back politely, not the way you smiled at Jake earlier. It puts his panic to ease, sensing that the instructor is flirting and you aren't feeling the same. It's funny how Jake is so relieved when you shake your head, politely declining the chance to go out on a date with an artist. The instructors nods his head, respectfully accepting your decline and letting you go.
Your walk turns into a light jog as you catch up with Jake, walking with him back into the parking lot.
"Why'd you say no?" He quietly asks, walking you to your car.
He's afraid it isn't his place to know why or why not, afraid that maybe he stepped to close, crossed a boundary.
But you just shrug, simply saying back, "Kinda rude to be asked out on a date while you're on one, no?"
His brows raise with surprise as he looks down at you, "So, this was a date then?"
Unlocking your car and stopping when you reach it, you chuckle back, "You know what I mean, Jake."
He doesn't at all though. To him, you are so damn confusing, but it only draws him in more. It only makes his curiosity grow.
When he gets in his car, he sits for a second, thinking over the night, finding himself smiling at the moments throughout. He pulls his phone out, looking at the picture you took together, sending it to the group chat he shares with Jake and Sam.
Sam replies wow it looks like you guys actually like each other.
Josh's is a simple cute.
Jake locks his phone and sits back a moment longer before putting his key in the ignition and starting his drive back home.
His choice comes a week later.
Now, you don't know much about Jake. But there are a few obvious things to your knowledge, such as: Jake plays guitar. Jake is good at playing guitar. He likes to play guitar. He likes to talk about guitars. Oh, and he may or may not still hate you.
You can't believe that might be added to the list of things you don't know about him. Forever you were positive that he hated you. Now, you're not so sure. Why would he take a person he hates here?
"I come out here by myself a lot," he says, walking out onto the field with you.
It was weird seeing him in something other than his usual button down and jeans. It's weird how even still, wearing gym shorts and sneakers, he looks just as much as a rockstar. He had told you to wear something similar, making you wonder if you would be participating in a hike or some other form physical activity. When he revealed the soccer ball in his backseat to you, it all made sense.
There is one other thing you do know about Jake Kiszka (courtesy of his brother): he grew up playing soccer. Turns out he still plays.
"Really?" You ask, finding it a little surprising.
He just shrugs, "It's a fun way to get my energy out. You know, if I'm mad or whatever."
"Just kick the ball around?" You simper.
He tosses it to the grass and plants his foot on top of it, looking at you with a smirk, "Pretty much."
"You enjoy playing with your balls, Jacob?" You tease.
Normally he'd find the jest annoying or take offense to it. Now, however, he sees the lightheartedness, knows that you don't mean any harm by it.
He ignores it, but you know he heard you from the way he looks away with a short, dry laugh, then says, "So I was thinking some one on one? Your goal down there and mine here?"
You shrug, "Whatever you say captain."
You make some makeshift goals out of sticks and rocks and your claw clip and his sunglasses. Not full fields distance away from each other, he wants to go easy on you. Agreeing to rock, paper, scissors for who gets the ball first, you end up winning and standing with the ball at your feet.
"Go easy on me." You mumble, toeing at the ball, noting all the scuff marks on it. He really does do this often, meaning he is probably gonna plummet you during this match.
He jogs backward, giving you some space and calling out, "Well, you gotta kick the ball first!"
You roll your eyes, taking a breath and starting, rolling the ball with your feet, heading towards the goal he's protecting. You try your best to find the smartest course of action, deciding to go right and aim as best you can, but of course he steals it from you. Easily too, like it was the simplest thing on the planet.
He takes it down the field with his feet, making you chase after him. Your efforts to steal the ball back are unsuccessful.
Through your panting breaths, you groan, "This would be so easy if I could use my hands."
He laughs heartily, breathing just as heavy as you, "That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? Europeans call it football; you have to use your feet."
You grunt in response, trying to kick it out from under him. He's too damn good though, and even when it does slip from his hold, he brings it back quickly. He laughs softly, watching your attempts, finding your struggle amusing.
Then, he kicks the ball backward, so it rolls behind him and spins, taking it around you and scoring instantly. You sigh, leaning forward till your hands rest on your knees, and catch your breath. He runs after the ball, walking back and letting it drop to the ground. His hands come up to form a 'T' for timeout, and then his fingertips touch your shoulders and guide you to stand up straight.
He keeps his hands there as he says through labored breaths, "You gotta block me too. You can't just try your luck at swiping the ball from my feet over and over."
His words make it easy for you to ignore the way his hands feel on you, and you roll your eyes, responding, "Oh, so you're coaching me now? This is practice?"
He removes his hands, which slightly disappoints you, then says, "No, but I know you want to beat me. If you take my advice, you'll have a better chance of doing that."
You stare at him for a second, using the back of your arm to push some stray hairs that have begun to stick to your forehead back. He pushes his own loose strands back with his hands, his biceps flexing. You glance at them for a second then look back to the ball.
You tell yourself to focus. Remind yourself how great victory against Jake will taste. However, how nice is it to also talk with him, to just look at him even... He steps away from you, lifting the hem of his shirt upward to wipe the sweat from his face and your breathing stutters.
Concentrate.
You've got the ball now and decide that maybe you can try to outrun him instead. He proves that incorrect, catching up to you quickly and taking the ball back again. You take his advice, chasing after him, defending your goal as you try to steal the ball back. And it works, it's in your possession, and you kick it back down to his goal, aiming for your shot, and earning a point.
You throw your hands in the air with a celebratory jump, looking back at him with a grin.
There's that feeling again, the same one he felt when he watched you leant over your assigned potter's wheel last week. When he realizes how pretty you look right now, he doesn't dismiss it. He invites it. Let's himself look over the glow of your cheeks and gleam of your smile. The way your hair tied back allows him to see all of your jaw and both ears and down your neck. If it were acceptable, he would have come over and given you a light, congratulatory hug. But it's not acceptable, is it? It's far too soon, too intimate.
It wouldn't surprise you if he was glaring at you are shaking his head at himself in embarrassment, but he isn't. The smile on his face warms you and he pats your back softly as he passes by to go after the ball. You tuck your hair back behind your ear as you try and catch your breath. Your heart won't stop hammering though, even when you rest. It's still thumping hard against your ribcage.
You watch as he walks back up, passing the ball back and forth between his hands and throws it up in the air. He comes closer, elbowing you softly before setting the back to the ground.
"See what happens when you listen to me?" He grins as he murmurs the words, getting ready for the next round.
You scoff it off and roll your shoulders back, getting ready to play again, "Just kick the ball, Jake."
You both agree that whoever makes it to five points first wins. Right now you're both tied, sweaty, and panting at four. It appears you're both fluent in trash talk too, so whoever loses tonight surely won't ever hear the end of it afterwards.
It's your turn with the ball, and you're determined as ever to beat him. Throughout the hour you've been playing, you've learned his strategies, studied his moves, memorized his approach. Intentional or not, he likes hand to hand combat, lots of pushing and moving against you, and as much as it made you blush in the beginning, you got used to it quickly. His touch isn't alien, in a sense it'd be weird if he distanced himself now. Awkward.
Though his panting, he looks up at you with lower lip dropped, spotting your winning grin as you bite on your tongue with concentration. He tries to steal the ball from your other side as he gruffly speaks, "Don't think you're actually going to win this."
"Oh, I already have." You quip back, turning with the ball still yours, "You tire quickly. Need to work on that."
He lets out a 'psh' and follows you closely, "I have tons of stamina, Y/N, don't be fooled. I've been going easy on you this entire time."
"Yeah?" You breathe back, sweat coating your hairline and down the back of your neck.
He bites his lip, not letting up with a soft, "Uh-huh." He blocks you swiftly when you try to aim for his goal, and luckily you have time to recover, taking it further back and creating some distance between you and him. He follows you, a few feet in front, "This is easy. You want it hard?"
The whimper you let out is unmistakable as you ignore his words as best you can and try to outrun him closer to the goal. He chases you, his defense impeccable, but you don't let up. He presses against you, and you push back which should surely be foul play but neither of you say anything about it. His skin sticks yours, shirts damp, breaths loud. You try and push him off again, but he doesn't budge.
Then you give him a rough shove, and he just barely moves away, giving you a clear shot. You wind back your foot, stepping forward with perfect form, gliding into the kick. But he's quick to recover, coming back swiftly to block you, but too close, resulting in a trip.
A yelp slips from your lips as you collide into him, causing a hiss to sound from him, and almost in slo-mo, you both fall. He grunts, his back coming in contact with the ground, you landing on top, chest pressed against his. Actually, he broke your fall entirely, and your body is now laying directly on top of his. Slowly, you open your eyes and plant your hands on either side of his head in the grass, looking down with startled eyes. With his brow furrowed, he blinks his eyes and squints up at you with a face of distress.
When you finally breathe again, you whisper out with sincerity, "Are you okay?"
He nods his head stiffly, letting out a quick, pained, "Yep."
"I'm sorry." You breathe out, frozen on top of him still. Your body won't let you move for some reason. It's like your paralyzed.
He looks up at you, his hands holding your waist, making your breath catch and eyes widen slightly. But, all he does is move you off of him and lay back with a sigh.
"It's okay," he grunts, adjusting himself.
"Do I need to call an ambulance or something?" You ask, anxiety taking over as he continues to just lay there.
"No, no," he laughs softly, relieving your fears, blinking up at you with a smile on his face and those sweet, chestnut eyes, "just knocked the wind out of me. I need a sec."
Your hand instinctively touches his arm as you kneel beside him, rubbing it comfortingly. Maybe he hit his head when he fell, and that's why he sees a pair of angel wings behind your shoulders, a glowing gold halo above your head too. Or maybe he's just wrongly accused you as the devil this entire time, and now, finally now, he realizes that's not you at all. You're an angel.
Slowly, he sits up with you, and you pull your hand away. "Better?"
He nods, licking his lips then smiling, "Yeah."
You nod back, slowly pulling your eyes away and gasping when you spot it. Your ball, right in between the stick and pair of sunglasses, AKA Jake's designated goal. He turns and sees it too, letting out a laugh as you scramble to your feet and hop around in celebration, doing your victory dance.
"Oh yeah!" You whoop and holler, pumping your firsts in the air with every jump, the biggest smile he's ever seen painted across your lips. "Eat it, Kiszka!"
His grin widens, leaning back on his palms and stretching his legs out as he watches you twirl with excitement. Tilting his head to the side, he admires you in the warm glow the setting sun casts on you, how you shine in the light. The tips of his fingers and toes feel numb, and he wiggles them both to clear away the sensation, but then his stomach flips as you look down at him, leaning over in your laughter before jogging off to retrieve the ball.
He looks down at the grass, his brow tense, mind racing. The realization hits him before it does you, just exactly how he feels. It should be a mistake, surely, there's no way in hell this isn't a false alarm. He's been called a hopeless romantic before, falling for a girl prematurely, or thinking that he likes someone when he really doesn't. But this time, it's different.
It's so different, because it's you.
The ball rolling up to his legs pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to spot you approaching with his shades.
"So, loser buys drinks?" You suggest with a playful smirk.
He plays it off cool, pretending that he wasn't lost in a daze about you, getting to his feet and kicking the ball along with him as you both walk back to your cars, "That was never a part of the plan..." but then he realizes that he doesn't actually want to pass up the chance of grabbing a drink with you, so he agrees, "but alright. Let's go. I'm thirsty anyway."
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