Part 2 to Sweeter than Cake - you can read Part 1 here: https://ms-znodgrass.tumblr.com/post/182357384907/sweeter-than-cake
Thank you to the amazing replies I received from this, they were honestly so lovely and so I decided to bang this out.
Again, requests are open. Enjoy! (Gif cred not mine)
Following yours and Otis’ escapade on the night of his 17th birthday, you solemnly swore not to talk of it. Otis returned from his bedroom to see you attempting to clear up the living room area, you didn’t want Jean to return the following morning to a mess, and you felt as if you owed it to Otis. That, and the fact that there were was a giant elephant in the room and you were doing everything to keep yourself busy.
“Hi,” Otis mumbled softly behind you, “you don’t have to clean up.” He leaned against the doorframe, scratching at the back of his neck. You swallowed.
“It’s fine really, the table’s sticky,” you chuckled.
“Let me get a wet towel or something,” he said, shuffling out of the room before you could say anything. You breathed in, and out, and in again. The room had gotten a little more humid, something unexpected in mid-January.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t see Otis appear at your side, wiping down the table. You began picking up some cups left at the opposite end of the table. Maeve and Eric were still sleeping peacefully, much to your dismay.
“It’s nothing, you know, what happened. Don’t worry about me thinking any different I’m very much on the same page as you, completely, one hundred percent,” you sighed, seemingly oblivious to the cup behind your foot. You’d stepped into it, and sent it flying behind you. “Shit!”
“I was just gonna say be careful of the glass,” he mumbled, “don’t worry about it.”
“No, your carpet!” You squealed, face turning hotter and hotter without your approval. His eyes widened as he spotted the brown liquid seep further and further into the cream carpet. You scrunched up your face in horror.
“Throw me the flannel, quick!” You begged. He threw it as far as he could, which was still a few feet from you. You looked between him and the flannel, raising your eyebrows.
“I have weak arms,” he shrugged, stepping towards you as you grabbed the wet flannel and dabbed slowly at the stain.
“You’re meant to scrub,” he said.
“No you’re meant to dab,” you argued, seeing a slight improvement – but nothing special. You stood up and turned to him, once again noticing the close proximity between you. Simultaneously you both stepped back.
“I’m so sorry about your carpet,” you sighed, wishing more than anything that the stained carpet would swallow you up. He smiled reassuringly, his soft lips curling up at the corners. Remnants of your lipstick tinted them a little.
“It’s fine, we’ll just… put something over it,” he murmured, placing his hands on his cheeks and squeezing them. “Give me a hand with the sofa.”
He took one side of the couch, whilst you took the other, and lifted. It was a hard job, trying to move the sofa over the stain. Not only were you both relatively weak, and tired, but Eric was draped across the entirety of the sofa.
“There, that’s fine,” Otis laughed nervously, examining the crime scene. Again you apologised, hiding your face behind your hands.
“Y/N?” Otis asked, his words laced with curiosity and amusement. You were worried that he was going to bring up your previous outburst.
“Did you draw a dick on Eric’s face?” He chuckled, and you turned to see a poorly drawn penis on Eric’s cheek. Your finest work. You laughed with him, breaking the tension between you both.
“You should see the masterpiece on Maeve’s forehead.”
It was mid-May, the sun was warming the skin on the back of your neck, sending a tingling sensation down your spine. You were sat on a picnic table, talking with Maeve, Eric and Otis. It was a Friday lunchtime, and everyone was raving about the bonfire party occurring in the field of some rich kid’s farm that evening. Luckily, you four had received an invite.
“I can’t show up looking like an orange again, that’s for sure,” Eric sighs, pulling the crusts from his sandwich.
“You were a pretty sexy orange,” you wink.
“Oh I know,” he smirks back at you.
“She’s just being nice, people thought you shat yourself Eric,” Maeve interjects with a devilish smirk. Eric throws a piece of crust at her in quick retaliation, which hits her square in the forehead. You could practically feel the anger radiating from her body, and apparently so could Eric.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, please don’t kill me,” he squeals, clinging onto Otis’s arm, almost as if to use him as a shield.
“That’d be too easy, especially with Otis as your protector” she grimaces. You let out a chuckle, Otis catching your eye with amusement lurking in his.
“Speaking of the party, I was going to invite Ola,” Otis smiles, looking at his water bottle.
“Oh good, maybe you’ll get a bit of action,” Maeve jokes, wiggling her eyebrows. You and Eric laugh in unison.
“Thanks Maeve,” Otis replies sarcastically.
“Oh we’re just playing, maybe a public kiss this time, you know, go official,” Eric nudges him. Your head snaps towards Otis. This was new information.
“You’ve kissed Ola?” You ask inquisitively, “you didn’t tell me.”
“I forgot to mention it, it’s nothing,” Otis shrugs, pulled at the shoulder straps on his rucksack.
“Well when was this?” You ask.
“Two months ago?” He guesses after a quick thought. You look between Maeve and Eric, who are both avoiding eye contact.
“Wait, everyone knew except me? Really?”
“I thought you knew,” Maeve admits, looking over to Otis, “you didn’t tell her?”
“It’s really not that much of a big deal,” he tells you.
“I asked after you both so many times, I just assumed it would’ve been mentioned,” you tell him. He shrugs again. Ouch, that hurt.
“It’s only happened a couple of times,” Otis adds. Oh great, so this happened on more than one occasion? You couldn’t put a finger on why you were so angry about it, was it the fact that you were last to know? That you felt deceived? You couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason.
“You trained him well Y/N,” Eric winks. Wait, what?
“What?” You and Maeve sing. You look at Otis, who is burning holes into the side of Eric’s head. . Eric notices the sudden change in atmosphere, and shakes his head.
“Nothing! Nothing,” Eric shouts.
Maeve looks between you and Otis. “You’ve kissed? Oh my god, when?” She’s half chuckling, probably in disbelief.
“At Otis’ 17th!” Eric blurts out, covering his mouth with a hand.
Otis shoves him and looks towards Maeve. “It was nothing, it was nothing!” He repeats. The words roll over in your head, circulating through your mind.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Maeve laughs, elbowing your side.
“It was meant to be a secret… I was drunk and it just happened,” you told her, trying to act as if you weren’t furious.
“It was nothing,” Otis says again.
“Yeah! I think you’ve got that through to them Otis!” You say, standing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder. He looks up at you, his blue eyes wide and nervous. You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m going to class, I’ll see you all later,” you sigh.
Eric looks at you, confused. “But we’ve still got half of lunchtime left-“
“I’m going to class!” You yell, walking away before you explode with anger. How could Otis deceive you like that? And embarrass you in front of your closest friends with such ease?
You hadn’t noticed your cheeks were wet until you reached the toilets, and finally allowed the anger to seep from your eyes.
“I just don’t understand it, you offered to kiss him so he could get his first kiss out of the way?” Maeve asks. You nod, collecting your things. You were meant to meet the others at the party in fifteen minutes, but realistically, you weren’t going to be there for a least half an hour. You grabbed as much as you could, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before stuffing your keys and phone into your pockets.
“Yes, in short,” you sigh, your head all over the place. You barely had time to process your feelings, and felt as if your brain wasn’t yet caught up with your heart. Maeve sits, perched on the edge of your bed with one knee tucked into her chest.
“Do you like him?” She asks, chin on her knee, she watches you intensely and you can feel yourself breaking under her stare.
“No!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. You cross your arms, pacing the floor, “at least I don’t think so… I don’t know!”
“Oh this is getting good,” she says, lying back on your bed. “You could write a Netflix programme about this shit,” she adds, stretching her arms out. She peers up at you, “you didn’t fuck did you?”
“No! No! Just a kiss,” you sigh.
If it’s just a kiss, why do you feel so torn? You swallow, and look at her. “We need to go, we told the others we’d be there on time,” you sigh, clapping your hands and shooing her out of the room. She rolls her eyes.
“Stop tapping your foot,” she tells you.
You hadn’t noticed you were.
“I’m not!” You say, drilling your foot into the ground. Maeve inspects you.
“Look Y/N I need to tell you-“
“Maeve if it’s Otis related I don’t want to know. Please,” you plead, eyes becoming a little wet. She shuts her mouth and looks to the side.
“Maybe you need a drink,” Maeve proposes, “I mean you don’t have to, but one or two might make you feel better?”
You had rarely heard this soft tone from Maeve, and though her face showed no sign of emotion, you knew she cared. You smiled at her, thinking.
“Alright. Let’s have a drink before we go, but just one!”
Or two, or three, or four. You’d lost count after shot number six, and could feel your body begin to feel a little limp, a little more relaxed, a little more… fuzzy?
Maeve was laughing at you as you both attempted to walk along the yellow line on the side of the empty road. You weren’t doing too well, a few stumbles here and there, and the line seemed to be moving a little. “It’s not even straight!” You protested, squinting.
“I think I’m doing pretty well here,” Maeve called out in front. But as soon as those words left her mouth, her body met the floor. You almost peed yourself, you were in hysterics. Nothing else mattered apart from you, Maeve and the yellow line. That was until you arrived at Lawrence Fry’s farm.
“Fuck we’re here,” you muttered, looking across at Maeve.
“After you m’lady,” she chuckled, signalling for you to walk ahead. You took her hand and stumbled through the tall grass, both falling over unseen dips and molehills, each small blunder resulting in loud laughter. You could just make out a figure walking towards you: tall, blurry and wearing purple. Eric.
“Hey!” You yelled, walking towards him and greeting him with a hug.
“You’re swaying,” he says to you, “she’s swaying!”
“Nah, I think it’s the wind,” Maeve laughs. You turn and wink at her.
She retaliates with another wink, her eyes flickering between you and something behind you. She coughs, and widens her eyes. You turn, and step forward into a chest. Otis’ chest.
“Well hi there,” he chuckles, attempting to steady you by placing his hands on your arms. It doesn’t help much, the contact just causes your pulse to quicken. You look up at those blue eyes. His dark hair is pushed back into a quiff, held in place with the assistance of hair gel, and lots of it. He flashes a kind, white smile, the white t-shirt he’s wearing only making him look more… angelic.
That was when your head caught up with your heart.
“Hi,” you smiled, all anger dissipating from your being. It was almost as if he was the only person with you in a slight unpleasant smelling field of grass.
And… maybe not. A recognisable figure appeared next to him, “hi Y/N!”
“Hi Ola,” you smile, stepping back from Otis and seeing her smiling beside him. “You look pretty,” you say, and it was true. She did look stunning. You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you watch Otis place an arm around her waist.
“Thank you! So do you, as always,” she smiles. You step back again, deducing that the wind caught you off guard once again.
Maeve appears beside you, and pushes you back upright. “She’s a little drunk,” she announces.
“I’m a little drunk,” you echo, giggling. You catch Otis inspecting you, and can’t seem to read his mind.
Eric smiles at you and wraps an arm around your shoulder.
“Well, let’s get Eric on that level,” he smiles, walking you towards the crowd. You mouth a ‘thank you’ to him, to which he replies with a soft forehead kiss. He looks over at Maeve, “I can’t believe you both got pissed without me.”
Though Eric felt excluded previously, it didn’t take him long to reach your level. And before long, you three had all reached a pretty terrifying alcohol state. Thankfully, most of the other party-goers had too. You sat with Eric and Maeve around a giant bonfire situated in the middle of the field. The flames were hypnotic, and you couldn’t stop staring at them.
“Y/N I’m sorry if I embarrassed you earlier,” Eric slurs, tapping your leg lightly. “I just can’t help my mouth,” he laughs, leaning further and further back. You and Maeve have to pull him forward to stop him from falling off of the log. You shake your head profusely.
“It’s nothing! I’m glad I know you know,” you say, enunciating your words with equally poor diction. He smiles at you, and looks over at Maeve.
“At least I didn’t tell her they’ve done other stuff,” he tells Maeve. Her head turns towards you, an unreadable emotion lurking in her eyes. You blink.
“What?” You ask, nose tingling, eyes burning.
“That they’ve further explored their sexual healing, feeling, healing, whatever,” he murmurs, holding your hand. “He told you that right?” His eyes are half-closed, and he leans towards you to inspect your facial expression. Upon seeing your blatant shock, he gulps.
You clench your jaw, hurt from these constant lies, constant whispers.
“No, Eric. He didn’t even tell me about their kiss, of course he wouldn’t mention any other crap they’ve gotten up to!” You yell, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. Maeve hits Eric’s arm, flipping him the finger.
Noticing the exchange, you stand up and look at her, “you knew?”
“Yes… I knew. But I didn’t know you didn’t know until today, he told me in confidence and begged me not to discuss it with anyone. I thought he did the same to you. But then today I realised you weren’t in the loop,” she sighs, standing up too.
“You could’ve told me today!”
“I tried! But you didn’t want to talk about it,” she tells you. A couple of people around the bonfire look at you both, you hadn’t noticed how loud you’d gotten. Or that Otis had appeared behind Maeve. You look at him, a stray tear dripping down your cheek.
Perhaps you should walk away, perhaps you should scream in Otis’ face, or tell him how strong your stupid feelings are for him. Perhaps you should sober up before any further damage is done. You should. But you don’t.
Instead you walk up to Lawrence Fry and lay a big, fat kiss on his unsuspecting lips.
