guys hypothetically if i lived in the USA and wanted to watch the second half of the other bennet sister rn, HYPOTHETICALLY, what would I type in my address barâŠâŠ.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Word Count: 1.4k
Category: angst, hurt/comfort?
Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me)
A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :)
Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday
You never enjoyed running.
Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.
To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.
In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.
"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.
You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.
"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.
"You can't look at me, or you can't-"
"Neither. Both."
As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.
This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.
"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.
"Figure what out?"
"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"
To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.
"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"
"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.
His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.
"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"
"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."
You found yourself stumbling over your words.
"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."
You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.
"I don't want to get my hopes up."
There was it. That was the truth.
You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.
Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.
So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...
And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.
Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?
He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.
"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"
Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."
You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.
You took a deep breath through your tears.
"I don't think I can keep doing this."
Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?
"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"
Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.
"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"
"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."
"No, you-"
He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.
"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."
You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.
"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."
"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.
"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"
"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."
"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"
And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.
"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"
"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"
"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"
"Please."
And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.
By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.
A/N: Gigantic, massive thank you to @gretavanmoon and @builtbybrokenbells for endlessly encouraging me with this one and daydreaming with me. I hope you all enjoy chapter one of what will be a sweet little mini series. Thanks for reading!
âGod I hope this one works,â you groan, hitting your blinker as you make a right turn. The AC is cranked up to ten in an effort to combat the Nashville heat, but right now, in the heat of the day, it was a losing battle.
âThis will be what? The fourth, fifth one youâve toured?â Blake asks, her voice filled with laughter.
You shake your head as a smile passes your lips, âItâs not funny, Blake, and yes. Fifth, and this one has to work. Itâs my favorite one and it's the last one that's in my price range.â
âDamn, did that other one fall through?â she asks, sounding sympathetic from the other end of the phone.Â
âYes, my application was denied and they didnât even tell me why. The others never even bothered to call me back. If this one doesnât work out I donât know what Iâm going to do. I donât want to do another year in an apartment,â you say, feeling your heart rate start to pick up as you get closer to the house. âI cannot bear the hour commute for a minute longer, and I have thirty days until I have to be out of my apartment now.â
âThereâs nowhere else?â she asks.Â
âNot in my price range thatâs close to work and has space for a little gardenâŠâ you answer, knowing that the last part isnât the most important.Â
She laughs because she has listened to you talk about starting a garden for the last two years,âSo what is your plan, then?â
âIâm going to go to this open house, make sure it looks like the pictures online, and if I like it, Iâm going to see if they will let me do the application right there. Like, this is the one. Itâs right by my office, itâs close to everything, and itâs right in the sweet spot of my budget.â you answer, chewing the skin on your bottom lip as you pull up to the curb. A nervousness washes over you as you lay eyes on the old house, âOkay, Iâm here, please wish me luck. I have to get this, Blake.â
âSendinâ up prayers to the big man as we speak,â she giggles, âCall me after, let me know. Iâll be sitting on my couch stalking my ex's new girlfriend.â
âBlakeââ you start, listening to the line beep as she ends the call. You let out a laugh and shake your head, taking a deep breath as you look over the outside of the house. It truly is perfect, the sweetest little historic cottage youâve ever seen. You felt drawn to it, even from the photos online. You knew it was your last chance at a house before you signed a new lease on an apartment you didnât want.Â
You gather your courage and step out of the car, taking in the sights of the quaint neighborhood around you. Most of the houses on this street looked similar, in various states of aging. This one, however, looked well kept and cared for. The black numbers on the front porch post read â19â, and for some reason you just knew this house was meant to be yours, that is, until you heard the sound of a car door shutting behind you.Â
Out stepped a guy, dressed fairly nice with a pair of dark sunglasses perched high on his nose. His hair was long and hung over the shoulders of his dark blazer. You knew it was an open house, but you didnât expect others to be here when you got here. You felt a twinge of competition spark within you, and you found yourself thinking that you would do whatever it takes to get this house instead of him.Â
The porch light was off and the front door was shut. You knew the open house didnât start for another few minutes so you didnât dwell on the fact that the realtor wasnât there yet. You took the time to walk around the yard, taking inventory of the current landscaping and seeing if you recognized any of the well established plants. Much to your surprise you were able to spot a flourishing blue hydrangea bush, and some creeping Ivy on the side of the house. There seemed to be decent shade from the giant Oak tree that hung over the house, setting the perfect scene for your new garden. You could already picture the vegetables you would grow here, and prepare in the little kitchen inside. You were absolutely dead set on this house, and as you stood in the shade of the Oak tree admiring the greenery all around you remembered him.Â
He made his way to the side of the house, not caring at all about the plants the house was surrounded by, but looking at the foundation of the home instead. He crouched down at the crawl space entry, taking a closer look. You felt your eyes cut towards him, already feeling possessive over the home you wanted so badly. He shouldnât even be here, this house was for you. His eyes flick over to you, noticing you watching him with your arms crossed across your chest.Â
âCute place,â he says, peering up at you over his sunglasses. He seems smug, you arenât sure if you like this guy too much. It doesn't help that he is mysteriously attractive.
âSure is,â you answer shortly, not wanting to give him any inkling about you or your intentions.Â
You both snap your heads towards the road as you hear a car door shut, knowing the realtor must have arrived. You start to walk towards the front of the house seeing an older man make his way up the front porch steps and into the house, shutting the door behind him. You find yourself walking a little faster up to the front door in an effort to beat the man behind you, really wanting to make the first impression with the realtor.
In a huff you knock on the front door first, stepping back a few inches as you clutched your purse to your side nervously. The man finally joins you on the porch, standing a few feet away from you with both hands in his pockets, waiting for the door to open just the same as you are. You can smell his cologne wafting off of him, and while you can admit it did smell good, he was your competition right now, and you werenât giving him the time of day.Â
Make a good first impression. This is your last chance at your own place.Â
Finally, after what felt like way too long, the front door swung open, revealing the sight of the older man in a pair of pressed blue jeans and a white t-shirt. A trucker hat sat atop his head, and a warm friendly smile was on his face.Â
âWell, hello there,â he said, waving the two of you inside, âI reckon youâre here for the open house, is that right?â
âOh, um, yes sir,â you answer, looking suspiciously behind you at your competitor.Â
The older man flicks his eyes from you to the man behind you and grins, nodding his head as he hobbles further into the house.Â
âWell, alright then, sorry I kept you two. Iâm Ralph, and this is 19 Bluebird Lane. Got two bedrooms and one bathroom, decent little kitchen to do your cookinâ, and a nice family room. Yardsâ just big enough to make yaâ sweat when you cut the grass, and the grocery store is just a few minutes up the road.â
You stand in the empty family room, taking a quick glance at the house and finding it has original wood flooring and vintage fixtures. Your heart swells as you imagine your things filling the space, and how you would decorate for holidays. Itâs everything you ever imagined for yourself, and you have no doubts in your mind that this is the house for you. Your competitor walks around the house, the echo of his boots on the floor almost abrasive. He doesnât say much, the occasional sound leaving his lips as Ralph continues to talk about the house. You try not to stare at him, but you canât help it. You are hoping he will find it outdated or tacky and leave. You can only hope.Â
âYou know Ralph, I have had my eye on this place for some time. Always caught my eye when I drove by, and when I saw it up for rent I knew I needed to come check it out. Hard to find these old Craftsman style houses in such great condition. What was it, built around the thirties Iâd say?â The man asks, and you suddenly feel stupid. You could never even guess what year this home was built, and now his praise has gotten the leg up on you.Â
âSure was son, built in 1931.â Ralph answers, positively beaming at the man's words. âI did my best to take care of her, put a lot of work into it years ago, and still today.â
âIt definitely shows, itâs an amazing place.â the man says, sending you a smirk.Â
Ralph leads the two of you down the small hallway towards the bedrooms, gesturing towards the master bedroom and the guestroom. The bathroom for the home sits across the hallway from the two with floor to ceiling baby blue tile and a matching tub. A small window lights up the bathroom in the late evening sun, and if you close your eyes you can almost picture yourself doing your makeup at the sink, soaking away in the vintage tub, or opening the windows to listen to the birds chirp early in the mornings.Â
âRalph, can I ask why youâre renting instead of selling it outright?â the man asks, rubbing his fingers over his chin.
âWell, son, because I have to pay for my new apartment. I donât need this place all to myself and I know to sell it, it would need a lot of work that I donât think I will be able to do by myself. I fixed a few things here and there, but I think renting is probably my only hope,â he answers, his features falling into a gloomy expression.Â
âI see,â the man says, âWell, Iâm sure glad you are. This place is fantastic. I love that itâs all original fixtures.â
Shit. This is not going how you hoped.
Your eyes flick to Ralphâs, the smile returning to his face as he listens to the man speak kind words of his home again.Â
âWhat if you had someone who was willing to buy it as is, all cash?â the man asks, and suddenly you feel the blood drain from your face. He wants to buy it⊠You look at him with panic in your eyes, and you feel the hope of your dream house slipping through your fingers.
âIt would have to be the right buyer. I ainât gonna sell this to just anyone.â he pauses, âThe developers have tried to buy me out of this place for years. Want to build condos just down the street and I wonât do it. âM afraid if I sell it to any old Joe Schmoe they will tear it down, and I canât let that happen,â he says. âWe sure did love this place. Forty years we lived here, and my parents before that,â he continues, reminiscing on times past.Â
âYou and your wife,â you ask softly, confirming with him.Â
âYes, my Gail. She loved this place. Said she never wanted to live anywhere else. We sure did fill this place with memories, but I have to tell you itâs just not the same without her. The memories hurt a little without her to share âem with,â he says, twisting his hands together.Â
âTo be quite honest with you two, it was her dyinâ wish that this place would be home to another couple like us. I promised her I would try, and for several weeks now I have been havinâ people come view the house, and none of âem was ever a couple. It never felt right. I made that promise, ya know? I was startinâ to lose hope on it, then you two showed up at the door.â he says, letting his eyes meet yours.Â
You look over to the man standing next to you, seeing that he is just as perplexed as you are. You arenât a couple. You donât even know this manâs name. You decide that the best course of action is to tell the truth, âOh weââ
âYou know Ralph, we really do love the place,â the man interrupts, looking over at you with an indecipherable look in his eye. You recoil slightly, realizing that the unknown man next to you is playing into this poor manâs fantasy.
âA place like this is meant to house love. Thatâs all itâs ever known,â Ralph pauses, nodding his head. âIâll tell you what, if you two like this place, I would be more than happy to rent it to you. Rent is twenty-one hundred a month, with the utilities.â
âThatâs amazing, Ralph,â the man smiles, âActually, would you mind giving us just a moment to talk about it?âÂ
A smile crosses his face as he looks at the two of you, âSure thing, Iâm gonna go take a sit on the porch, you two just come find me when youâre ready,â he says, turning and making his way to the front porch. You hear the front door close and you turn to the man, practically fuming with anger.
âWhat are you thinking?â you scold, not even able to begin to process what could possibly be going through his mind.Â
âIâm thinking we both want this house,â he says matter-of-factly.Â
âArenât you going to try and just buy it from him?â you ask, pouting a little.Â
âAhh, you know, coming into this, yeah. I think so, but Iâve had a sudden change of heart. I can see you have your heart set on it, and to be honest, so do I.â he pauses, starting to pace around the room. âHeâs made it pretty clear he isnât wanting to rent the house to a single renter, and I get that, so this is about the only option.â
âI donât even know your name! Why would Iâ What are you, insane?â
A smug smile crosses his lips, âMy apologies, Iâm Jake.â he answers, peering at you through the lens of his sunglasses.
You cut your eyes at him a bit, trying to decide what to say, âDâDo you always wear sunglasses inside?â
Again, he smiles and nods his head, âPretty often, yes. They are prescription.â
âOh,â you squeak, suddenly feeling rude for asking.Â
âAnd your name is?â he asks, his voice a little deeper and more sincere.Â
âY/N.â
âWell, Y/N, do you want to live in this house?â he asks, leaning back onto the wall.Â
âI mean, yeah. I do, but I wasnât planning on having a roommate,â you answer truthfully.
âWell lucky for you I'm practically never home,â he says. âWould only be here from time to time to sleep and do laundry.â
âAnd why is that?â you ask, as if itâs your business.Â
âIâm in a band, we travel a lot.â
âSo why are you doing this?â you ask, genuinely curious.Â
âBecause, like I told him, I like this house, I always have. Itâs close to my office and my brothers and itâs not some cookie cutter new build. Itâs what I want, but I know itâs what you want just by the look on your face when I talked about buying it from him. He doesnât want to sell. He wants to rent it to a couple, and Iâm pretty sure that since we both showed up alone, neither of us fit that bill.â
âSo youâ you want to just lie to that sweet old man and tell him that we are together?â you ask.Â
âEssentially, yes.â
âYou donât feel bad?â you question, your brows furrowing together.Â
A small laugh leaves his chest and a bright smile parts his lips, âOf course I do, but Iâm trying to make this work for both of us.â
âYou said youâre in a bandâŠIs that your only job? Are you sure you can pay your part of the rent?â you ask accussingly.Â
An even larger smile fills his face, âYeah, sweetheart. I can afford my share of the rent.â
âAnd youâll clean up after yourself?â
âYou wonât even know Iâm here,â he nods.Â
For a moment you consider running out of the house. Running out and signing the lease on the shitty apartment across town and never looking back at this insane proposition. But something about the way he has presented this has you considering it.Â
âCan I think for a second?â you ask, pacing around the room.Â
âBe my guest,â he says, gesturing into the air.Â
You step out of the bedroom and walk into the kitchen, letting your mind play through various scenarios to try and come to a decision. Truthfully, you donât really have another option. You had been ghosted on every other property you looked at. It was this or the apartment you didnât want. This way you get the house you want, and the garden space you want, but for less money and half of the responsibility.Â
It seemed like a no brainer, but you were still feeling hesitant. Maybe you should keep looking. Maybe you should just let him have the house.Â
You open a kitchen cabinet, seeing a few old recipes still taped on the inside door, where they have sat for twenty years at least, and you feel your heart drop. You know you will feel awful lying about being with Jake, but at the same time, you know this place is the one and you canât keep second guessing it.Â
You decide right there in that perfect little kitchen that youâre going to do it. You would rather live with a stranger than in a shitty, loud apartment for another second. With a deep breath you walk back into the bedroom, finding Jake taking a look out the window.Â
âHow do you know Iâm not a serial killer or something?â you ask, quirking a brow at him as he turns to face you.Â
He chuckles a little and shakes his head, âWell, I donât. But I'm willing to risk it. Serial killers donât typically seek out homes in the center of town while admiring the flower bushes...â
You suck in a deep breath, and let it go, licking your lips before answering him. âOkay.â
âOkay you want to do it?â he asks, stepping closer to you.Â
âI donât really have another option.â you admit.
âYou wonât regret this, I promise,â he smiles, stepping forward and offering you his hand to hold.Â
Your eyes flick down to his outstretched hand before flicking back up to his face, âWhat are you doing?â you ask, a bit taken aback.Â
âI was hoping we could go tell Ralph the good news,â he smirks. âKinda have to pretend to like me if we are going to sell this.â
You feel your blood run cold. You hadnât considered that part until this very moment. It was just for a few minutes. You could do that, right? You placed your hand in his, letting him wrap his warm fingers around yours as he smiled, leading you out of the bedroom and towards the front door.Â
âJust follow my lead, okay?âÂ
You nod and step out onto the large wrap around porch finding Ralph sitting in a rocking chair.Â
âDid you two come up with a decision?â he asks, working hard to pull himself up out of the chair.
Jake pulls you closer to his side, never letting his hand leave yours, âWe sure did, Ralph. We would love to rent this place from you. I promise we will take great care of it, isnât that right, sweetheart?â
You feel a tingle in the pit of your stomach as the pet name washes over you, his eyes locked on you, urging you to answer his question.Â
âUm, absolutely. We both love it. Itâs exactly what we wanted,â you agree, tilting your head to rest on Jakeâs shoulder. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, and you swallow nervously.Â
âMy Gail would be so happy. Thank you both so much,â he smiles, fighting back the tears coming to his eyes. âWe can do the paperwork and I reckon you can move in a few days once the money is sorted.â
âI can write you a check for first and last month's rent and the security deposit today, if youâd like?â Jake offers, and you feel a twinge of shock. No wonder he laughed when you asked him about rent earlier.Â
âThat would be fantastic, son. Boy you sure are makinâ this easy for me.â
âThat was the goal, sir,â he smiles, following Ralph back inside as he pulls you along behind him.Â
â
You spend much of the next hour filling out the renter paperwork and sending the documents to the appropriate places. Jake definitely took the lead in all of this, writing the checks and getting the information to transfer the utilities into his name. You knew the two of you would discuss all of this later, but for now you just let him.Â
Ralph led you both out of the house, practically beaming as he walked towards his car. âI sure am glad you two came by today. I can tell that you two are perfect for this place. I will get all this paperwork sent off and get some keys made and be in contact with you by the end of the week.â
âThank you so much Ralph, we canât wait!â you smiled, waving as he got into his car and drove away.
Jake immediately drops your hand, and for some reason you feel a twinge of sadness at the sudden loss of warmth.Â
âWell, we did it,â he grins.Â
âI canât believe he bought it,â you laugh.Â
âI can, youâre a great actress, I even believed it there for a minute,â he grins, giving you a subtle wink.Â
âSoâŠNow what?â you ask, quickly remembering that things were not just that simple.Â
âNow, we figure out logistics I supposeâŠâ he answers, looking down at the watch on his wrist. âShit,â he grumbles. You take notice of the shiny silver wristwatch, wondering what he is late for. You stand awkwardly trying to figure out what to do next.Â
âI have to run, but we need to talk everything through. I know Ralph said he will call me when the paperwork goes through and the check clears, so Iâd give it a day or two until I hear from him.â he says, pulling his phone from his pocket.Â
âOkay, so am I just supposed to wait to hear from you in the meantime?â you ask, feeling a little left out of the loop.Â
âYeah, I mean, I can call you as soon as I hear from him, and I know we need to figure out the money stuffâ actually, letâs just exchange numbers really quick, then we can figure all this out. I can call or text or whatever you prefer.â
âOh, okay yeah,â you answer. You pull your phone from your bag and open your contacts, handing it to him as you reach for his. You quickly type your number in deciding to be a little cheeky as you add your name in as âGirlfriendâ.
âI sent myself a text to make sure it goes through,â he says, placing your phone back in your hand. You smile and nod, locking your phone and putting it back in your purse. You hand his phone back to him, watching him shove it into his pocket as he turns to head towards his car.Â
âIâm really sorry, I hate to run like this but I am running really late to this thing, and really I donât even want to go I justâSorry, anyway, I will text you here in a little bit to see if we canât figure some of this stuff out.â he says, walking alongside you to your car.Â
âNo worries, I will start making arrangements for this weekend tentatively?â you ask, wondering if that's too soon.Â
âYeah, I think that sounds good, I will do the same, and I can help you with whatever, just let me know.â he says, reaching for his car door.Â
âAlright, well, um thanks⊠for this, I will talk to you soon, I guess?â you giggle.Â
âYeah, you will,â he smiles, lifting his hand to wave as he gets into his Jeep.Â
You wave as you get into your car, shutting the door behind you and letting out a breath. âHolyfuckingshit.â you breathe out. You had done it. You got your dream home. Maybe not the way you planned, but some way, somehow, youâd done it.Â
His tail lights lit up your face as he started his car, pulling away from the curb as you started your car. Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline of it all, and you knew you still had to call Blake to fill her in.Â
You turn your head to look at the house, the yellow porch light glowing in the dusky night, warm and inviting. Your heart lurches in your chest as you realize that is your new home, and though itâs not exactly how you thought things would go today, you couldnât have asked for a better outcome.Â
You both turn your separate ways, and as your car hits the freeway you hit the speed dial to call Blake. The call rings out twice before you hear her exasperated breath on the phone.Â
âHello!?â she shouts, clearly feeling a bit concerned.Â
âYes, helloâŠâ you answer.Â
âWhat the hell! I thought you got kidnapped or something!â she continues, âYou couldnât text me or something?!â
âWell, things took a dramatic turn when I got there!â you laugh.Â
âWhat kind of dramatic turn?â she asks.Â
âWell when I got there there was another guy there to see the house at the same time. We ended up touring the place with the guy selling it, who is just the sweetest little old man named Ralph, and he was telling us all about his wife and how they lived their for forever, and at the end of the tour he basically told the two of us that he was hoping a couple would want to rent it because it was his wifeâs dying wish or somethingâŠâ
âShit, so you didnât get it, now what?â she asks.Â
âNo, actually, see⊠I did get it. Well, we kinda got it.â
âHuh?â she yells.Â
âSo the guy, his name is Jake, totally hot, youâd be obsessed with him, anyway, he wanted the house like, just as bad as I did. When Ralph said that to us he basically offered to buy it from him in cash and Ralph said no he wanted to rent it. So Jake kinda looked at me for a second, then when Ralph walked away he told me that he would be willing to rent the house with me if I wanted to.â
âY/N, no. Oh my god, no?â
âI know, I know, itâs actually fully insane, but Blake what other option did I have?â you question.Â
âWait so how?â
âWeâŠkinda just pretended to be a couple. Ralph thinks we are together. Offered it to us on the spot. We accepted. Did the paperwork and all that. Thatâs what took so long.â you answer nervously.
âOh my god, Y/N. Who even is this guy? He could be a murderer!?â
âHeâs not. I donât think... His name is Jake, he is in a band and they tour a lot apparently. Said he will hardly be around. It sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me,â you say. âHe also fronted all the money for the thing. We are gonna talk about it soon I think. We exchanged numbers.â
âSo right now youâre telling me that you are going to be sharing a house with a guy that you donât know at all, donât know his last name, donât know a thing about him other than he is in a band and has a little moneyâŠâ
âYeah, sounds like it,â you laugh.Â
âAnd youâre not nervous about this, like at all?â she questions.Â
You laugh a little, âI mean, no. Something about him was oddly comforting. I could just tell he is a good person.â
âDo you know how insane this is?â
âYes. But, I really had no other choice. I decided right then and there that I was not getting another apartment. Now sharing this house is going to be even less of a financial burden because it will be split in half. This is the best case scenario for me, Blake.â
âI know. And as crazy as it sounds you have the best intuition of anyone I know. I know youâre smart. You also sound really happy soâŠI guess I am happy too.â she says, the smile audible in her voice. âSo, tell me about this guy, you said heâs hotâŠâ
âOh, Iâm going through a bad spot! I will call you tomorrow! Love you!â you say, tapping the red button on the screen and ending the call. You toss your phone to the passenger seat as you switch lanes on the highway, making the hour drive back to your apartment. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, so glad to finally be rid of that place. This time next week you would be moved into your new place, enjoying the quaint neighborhood and the peace and quiet, and you were hopeful you wouldnât regret the decision to take on an unexpected roommate.
â
JAKE POV
The gravel crunches as you pull into the parking space, throwing your car into park and twisting the keys in the ignition. You were late, really fucking late. You jump out, throwing the car door shut behind you as you sprint into the front doors of your office. Itâs pin drop silent except for the sound of Joshâs voice echoing from the conference room.Â
âFuck,â you mumble, knowing you arenât going to hear the end of this.Â
You quietly make your way into the conference room, seeing Josh sitting across from the laptop on the table, listening as the interviewer speaks. He cuts his eyes to you as you shut the door behind you, placing your keys and phone on the chair by the door. He silently tells you to âhurry the fuck upâ as he turns back to the interviewer, making a joke about your untimely arrival.Â
You take the seat next to him apologizing for your tardiness and taking the brunt of the rest of the interview. You spent the next thirty minutes talking about the plans for the second half of tour and the excitement you held about making stops in Japan and Australia for the first time in several years. You finished out the interview on a positive note, knowing that as soon as the call ended you were going to catch some heat for being late.Â
Of course, as expected as soon as the call ended Josh turned to you with a sour look.Â
âWhy the fuck do we schedule these meetings around your day if you canât be bothered to show up at the time you fucking choose!?â he shouts, standing up from his chair.Â
âLook, I know. I was just down the street. I fully expected I would be here on time, itâs my mistake.â
âWhere the fuck were you? You know I hate doing this stuff alone.â he asks.Â
âI finally got into that house over on Bluebird,â you answer, shrugging your shoulders. He knew the house, youâd spoken of it often since your arrival to Nashville a few years ago.Â
âOh, yeah?â he softens, âItâs for sale? You gonna buy it?â
âWanted to, the owner doesnât want to sell. Offered cash, too.â you pause. âToured it and signed the lease just now. Thatâs why I was late. Probably moving in this weekend.â
âShit, really? Thatâsâ Okay.â
âYeah, butâŠâ you pause, swallowing nervously. âI seem to have acquired a roommate in the process.â
âIâm sorry?â
âSomeone else was at the showing. She wanted that house as bad as I did.â you nod, rubbing your hand over your chin. âSomething about her⊠I just couldnât take it from herâŠâ
âA girlâŠâ he asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise.Â
âYeah, seemâs sweet. Super gorgeous. Her name is Y/N. She has no fuckinâ clue who I am, which, is even better.â you laugh. âThe catch was that the owner wanted to rent it to a couple. His wifes dying wish or something⊠So, I talked her into pretending we were together so he would rent it to us. Kinda works out, she will be there to watch the place when weâre gone and she works so she wonât be around during the dayâŠfelt kinda, I donât know. Just felt like the right thing to do.â
âJake, you are moving into a house with a stranger.â he states.Â
âYes,â you answer plainly. âBut she is cool, I promise.â
âThis is a bad idea,â he says, beginning to pace the room. âShe couldâ I donât know, I thought you wanted privacyâ she might tell the whole worldââ
âShe wonât,â you interrupt. âI can tell. She wonât.â
âHow do you know sheâs going to pay her share?â he asks.
You laugh and shake her head, âBecause the first thing she asked me is how Iâm going to pay mine.â
He tilts his head in agreement, âFair enough.â
âItâll be good. Just trust me. I have a good feeling about it.â you urge. âI donât know much about her, at all actually, but I know youâre going to like her.â
âWill be the first roommate you have had that isnât me,â he smiles.Â
âAnd a girl,â you laugh, âBut it will be fine. I want that house and if this is how I have to have it then so be it.â
âWhatever, man,â he sighs, âBut definitely has nothing to do with the âsuper gorgeousâ girl, right?â
You smirk and shrug your shoulders, âYouâll see. Youâll get it.â
âWhatever, hey you wanna grab a bite?â
âNah, actually, I need to uhâ I need to get home, have some things to take care of.â
âAlright, see you tomorrow?â he asks, opening the door of the conference room.Â
The two of you walk towards the doors, shutting off the lights in preparation to leave, âYeah, yeah, Iâll see you then.â
âOn time.â he points, opening the door.Â
âFâcourse,â you smirk, knowing damn good and well you will be late to that too.
â
Two hours later you found yourself on your couch, watching highlights with a box of leftover Pad Thai. You couldnât help but let your mind wander as you thought of your new place and how easily it fell into your hands. Though, you also found yourself feeling thankful for the girl who just so happened to arrive at the same place at the exact same time that made it so that things could fall into place.Â
You reached forward, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and settling back into the couch cushions as you unlocked the screen. You scrolled through your contacts looking for her name and to your surprise you came up empty. You felt a wave of panic wash over you as you looked again, still not finding it.Â
You sat up a little, trying to figure out what was going on until you remembered sending yourself a text from her phone. As you open your messages you smile, shaking your head as you see her contact, not labeled with her name at all, and instead, âGirlfriendâ. You tap the thread, seeing your message to yourself as you type into the box to reach out for the first time.Â
You
8:13PM: Girlfriend, huh?
Girlfriend
8:17PM: It felt only appropriateâŠ
You grin to yourself that she answered so quickly, and you wonder if maybe she was thinking about you, too.Â
You
8:18PM: Suppose youâre right, we made a deal after allâŠ
8:19PM: Obviously I havenât heard from Ralph yet, but I figured we could maybe figure out our end of things if you arenât busy?
Girlfriend
8:20PM: Yeah, sure that works for me.Â
You glance at the time realizing it is kind of late, and you know she likely is working tomorrow.Â
You
8:22PM: You sure? I didnât realize the time.
Girlfriend
8:23PM: Yeah totally! I was actually thinking about it earlier, and if you want I can just venmo you my share of the rent and utilities every month, that way it comes from just one of us and he wonât get suspicious?
You
8:25PM: Actually yeah, that would be perfect. I can just let you know how much when I get the bills?
Girlfriend
8:27PM: Yeah! Sounds good to me!
You
8:28PM: Also just so you know, in about three weeks I am leaving for tour and I will be gone for about two months. I will obviously still pay my half of everything, but you will have the place to yourself. Just wanted to give you a heads up.Â
Girlfriend
8:29PM: Oh, wow, thats barely enough time for you to get moved in and settled lolÂ
You
8:30PM: Unfortunately that is just kind of how my life is, never can get too comfortable anywhere before its on to the next place.Â
Girlfriend
8:31PM: Whatâs your band called? Have I heard of you?
You laugh a little at her message, wondering if you should rip the bandaid off now, or later. But as your fingers type your answer you wonder if this conversation is better suited to a phone call.Â
You
8:32PM: Would you be opposed to a phone call? I feel like I could explain better than I can over a text.
Girlfriend
8:33PM: Thatâs fine!
Shit, okay. You didnât think she would say yes. Alright, itâs fine. Youâve talked about this a thousand times. So why are you nervous?
You clear your throat and tap the phone icon, listening to the line ring out twice before she answers.Â
âHi,â she answers, her voice soft and attentive.
âHey, um, thanks for letting me call, I just feel like itâs a lot to explain over a text,â you laugh, swallowing down your nerves again.Â
âNo, itâs fine I get it,â she giggles, âI mean, we kind of have to get over the formalities now that we are going to be roommates.â
You smile, thinking about how different your life will be in just a week's time, âYeah, yeah, youâre right.â
âOkay, so your band. What kind of music is it?â she asks.Â
âAlright, well, itâs rock music. Itâs my brothers and I. Weâve been doing it for quite some time now, just moved to Nashville about three years ago, touring all over the place before that.â you pause, feeling your heart rate pick up as you dance around the answer. You donât understand why you feel nervous to tell her, but something about her knowing that makes you feel like she may think differently of you.Â
âOkay I have google pulled up, Iâm ready to research,â she laughs.Â
âNo, no you donât have to do that actually,â you say, âItâs just going to tell you a bunch of shit that they have been saying since we started the damn band.â
âThe name, JakeâŠâ
âRight, itâs Greta Van Fleet.â you answer, holding your breath a little.Â
âOh, interesting name, completely different from what I was expecting.â
âWhat were you expecting?â you smirk, crossing your feet on the coffee table.Â
âI donât know, something, umâŠmore hardcore, I guess?â
âNah, we arenât hardcore rock,â you say, âCommon mix up.â
âOkay google says you are like, really famous.â she says, her tone suddenly sounding serious.Â
âI told you not to do that!â you urge.Â
âOh gosh wait there you are! Those are you brothers? Oh my gosh how cute. Sick eyeliner, JakeâŠâ
You feel a warmth creep to your chest, just the thought of her searching your band had your heart twisting up. âClose it, Iâm begging. Iâd rather you just ask me instead of the internet.â
âFour million monthly listeners on Spotify, holy shit.â
âOkay, yeah, we are doing pretty well,â you tease.Â
âYeah I would say so! Oh my god, why are you moving into this house with me? You could buy like ten houses!â
âI donât want ten houses, I want that one. And I never really planned on having a roommate. It justâŠkind of happened.â you say truthfully.Â
âI feel like I need to listen to one of your songs?â she says, and you can hear her typing on her computer.Â
âWait, can you justââ you are interrupted by the sound playing through her computer speakers, âAlright.â
âI think I know this actually!â She sounds excited as she hears the riff of âHighway Tuneâ play through.Â
âYeah, that one is uhâ yeah that's a popular one,â you smile, just letting her have her moment. You suffer through it, knowing if you interrupt her she will probably make you listen again.Â
âOkay, I get it now.â she says, pausing the song.Â
âGet what?â
âYour vibe,â she says matter-of-factly.Â
âDo you?â you ask, genuinely curious how that song in particular has told her anything.Â
âYeah, kind of like old school rock and roll. I like it. I really like it.âÂ
You feel a spark in your chest, and a smile crosses your lips, âYeah, thank you. Iâ I really love what I do.â
She is quiet for a minute, âSo youâre the guitarist I see.â
âI am, yes...â you answer hesitantly.
âSo youâre going to keep me up all night playing,â she teases.Â
âI can neither confirm nor deny that. I do tend to keep late hours and I do like to work on stuff during those late hours, but I will do my best to keep my noise to a minimum,â you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.Â
âAlright, fair enough.â
âOkay so what about you, then. You know what I do, what do you do?â you ask, letting your head fall back to rest on the couch. The sound of her voice is oddly soothing, and you let your eyes close as you listen to her speak.
âIâm a massage therapist,â she says, âI work at a little clinic near the house, which is why I wanted it so badly. I have been driving an hour to and from work for a few months now waiting for my apartment lease to be up.â
âAn hour? Shit,â you groan.Â
âThat house was actually my last hope. It was also my favorite one. I canât even tell you how relieved I am that by some miracle it worked out.â
âSeems like it was meant to,â you say, feeling thankful. âSo massage therapy, how did you get into that?â
âActually my entire life I swore up and down that I was going to be a journalist, but when I found out I am a terrible writer I had to make some quick adjustments. I had a really long exam one day and scheduled a massage for the next day, and when I walked out of that massage I knew that it was what I wanted to do. I went to school, worked at a few different places until I earned my chops and ended up here. I got a job at Lotus Room a few months ago and everything just clicked. I know I am where I am meant to be and I look forward to going to work everyday.â
âWow, thatâs incredible. I have had my fair share of massages the past few years, playing guitar is actually a lot more strenuous than you may think.â you laugh.
âNo I fully believe you, most of my clients these days are musicians.âÂ
You raise your brows in surprise, âOh really?â
âDefinitely, maybe I can give you a roommate discount,â she jokes, laughing into the phone.Â
Her laugh brings a smile to your face, and you canât help but laugh too. âI feel like a girlfriend discount would be better.â
âOh it is, but you arenât ready for that. And itâs not a discount, itâs a special.â You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, and you catch a hint of playfulness in her voice. You have no right to even let your mind wander with that one.
You decide you need to change the subject, keep things professional, âSo, letâs talk about furniture.â
âOkay, yeah, I have a shitty couch and a coffee table, my bedroom furniture, and a small kitchen table and chairs.â
âSo, I have mostly everything because I am in a house already, but I will leave the decision up to you since I can throw my stuff in a storage unit.â you say, hoping not to stress her out.Â
âI am going to go out on a limb and say that your stuff is probably a lot nicer than mine,â she laughs. You can hear that she is walking around her apartment, her voice softening as she sits down.Â
âMy couch is pretty nice, I think it will fit well in the house, too. If you hate it we can do something else. Iâm going to kind of leave things up to you since I wonât be around too often.â
âThatâs generous of you, Jake.â
Something about the way your name sounded falling from her lips has you squirming on your couch.Â
âYeah, no problem. I will send some pictures over to you and you can decide,â you say.
âPerfect. Anything else I should know about you as a roommate?â she asks, her voice sounding a little more tired.Â
âNot that I can think of. I am a pretty clean person. I try my best to clean up after myself so you wonât have to worry about that. As I said earlier I am kind of all over the place with the times I will be around. I like to cook, so that's a plus I think.â
âOh, that is good to know. I like to garden, so maybe you can benefit from that.â she answers. You feel another spark in your chest at the thought, but you donât let yourself linger on it for too long.Â
âWell, I donât want to keep you. Thanks for letting me call, I feel like this was good. I will let you know when I hear from Ralph, and I will send those pictures over sometime tomorrow.â
âYeah, this was nice. I actually do have to go, I have a lot of listening to do before I go to bed since I am now suddenly roommates with some famous guitar guy.â she taunts.Â
âI hear he is overrated and kind of an ass,â you add.Â
âI guess I will be the judge of that,â she says playfully, letting a quietness fall between the two of you.Â
âAlright, well Iâll talk to you soonâŠâ Some part of you doesnât want to hang up. You shove that part back down.Â
âTalk to you soon, Jake! GoodnightâŠâ
âGoodnight Y/N.â you say, ending the call and tossing your phone to the couch next to you. You run your hand over your face as you stare up at the ceiling, sitting in the silence as your mind replays the conversation and the sound of her laughter.Â
You know itâs only a matter of time. You know itâs inevitable. In fact it may already be too late.Â
That feeling in your gut told you so. Twice. You know you will fall for her. Your fate was sealed the minute you saw her admiring the flower bushes. The minute you signed those papers. You would have never offered the idea of being roommates if you didnât intrinsically know your own fate.Â
You may be going into this as roommates, but you wouldnât be coming out of it that way. Of course, that was still to be decided, but if you had it your way, you know what you would choose. Â
my fave is when u go on a fanfic bender and read an ungodly amount of content in a short period of time and when u finally finish u donât remember which plot was which or what even happened because it went in one ear and out the other but boy was it a thrill when it was happening !!!!!
listen I read manacled years ago and somehow I successfully blocked almost all of it from my memory (perhaps itâs all the trauma !) and Iâm rereading it rnâŠâŠ.. truly Iâve never felt so insane in my life the way Iâm practically gnawing on my phone screen at every sentence. somebody better do a clinical study on me and the rest of us freaks
what was the first media that you can consciously remember scaring the piss out of you and giving you nightmares (examples listed are specific to me I was a cowardly ass child)
horror movie you should not have been watching aged fucking eleven (the shining)
horror show your uncle let you watch (buffy, x files)
legitimate children's horror (goosebumps, etc)
adult horror comedy (Beetlejuice, little shop of horrors, etc)
kid show parody horror episode (hash slinging slasher)
"scary" scene from an adventure movie (Jumanji, princess bride, Indiana jones)
I could see why a kid would be scared of that (monsters from sesame Street)
weird commercial that made you scared
not remotely scary comedy (look who's talking, osmosis Jones, etc)
your best friend's older brother's vague description of a horror movie he watche
A/N: Thank you so so so much to @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine for beta reading this part and offering feedback! If it werenât for her, this would be a spelling/grammatical nightmare. If you have any questions, concerns, or constructive criticism, please let me know! Thanks for reading!
Part: 3. Read part 2 here.
Summary: Questions are asked, answers are given, and discoveries are made. The night at the cabin ensues, and the days that follow hold the results.
The question comes from your lips and lingers in the space between. In all honesty, there is way too much space between you. And by now you should be chest to chest, lip locked, in a hold of overdue passion. But you're waiting for his response. You'd wait forever.
His hands grip the door frame, as though to keep himself steady. He knows he's still a little high because you look soft around the edges, but if he wasn't he knows he'd be panicking right now. Instead, he's calm, he's ready. He's ready to tell you.
In a soft breath, he drops his hands and takes a small step towards you, whispering out the words, "I'm falling for you. Completely."
Your chest squeezes, and then, you can finally breathe again.
In an instant, the paper is dropped, floating down to the wooden floor beneath your bare feet and you're stepping forward to hook your arms behind his neck. When his hands touch your waist, your lips crash against his, and it is the best feeling you have ever experienced.
Finally, it's like you've been waiting forever for this moment and here it is happening. You want to remember it all, want to feel everything so when you think back on this, when this moment is but a distant memory, you can be transported back. You melt into him, and he holds you closer, moving his lips in perfect sync with yours. Sparks don't fly, time doesn't freeze, but the unsettled, unsure feeling that's been lingering in the pit of your stomach for ages finally goes away. And that's better than anything.
No apprehension, no regret, no feeling of oh god what am I doing? None of that. You know this is right, this is how it should have always been. How has it been any different than this? You can't imagine a time before this, you don't want to.
You pull away, just for a second to smile and whisper into his mouth, "Completely?"
"Yes," he closes the gap again, mumbling against your lips, "completely."
With that, you're stumbling into his room, and he's turning your bodies so he can lay you back on the mattress, then slowly crawling over you. Your hands cup his face, and he cradles your body, just losing yourselves in the other and not caring about anything else. Right now, he's all that matters. You're all that matters. This is all that matters.
Knowing that he feels the same, that it wasn't just your mind tricking you, that after waiting, you're getting what you want, it makes you choke up. His lips coast up your jawline, to your ear and temple, brushing over your tear-streaked cheek. His eyes open and he looks down at your smiling face and misty eyes.
He whispers your name in confusion, a hand comes up to touch your cheek, wiping away your tears there.
"I'm just so happy," you chuckle wetly in explanation, running your fingers through his hair, "I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same."
"I've always felt this way," he kisses your forehead, then rests his against it, "I think since the ceramics class."
"Me too." You speak so softly.
He smiles, kissing you lightly once more, "And I'm never gonna stop kissing you." Another peck to the corner of your lips, "So get used to this."
"Oh, I will." You sigh with a swollen lipped smirk and settle beneath him, fingers massaging against his scalp as you comb through his tresses.
Truthfully, you feel that there is no better feeling than this right here. Laying beneath Jake Kiszka, in his bed where the sheets already smell like him after one night, and his warm lips are just roaming across your skin. They start at your lips and peck around your face, then towards your neck where he doesn't bother being as gentle, sucking little marks where he can, nibbling gently to hear your soft whining. His mouth wanders up to your ear, teething over the lobe before whispering into it.
"Are we only kissing tonight?" The innocence in his question makes you moan and smile, spreading your legs and hooking one around the back of his hips, drawing him closer.
He turns his head and looks at you, grinding himself down against you. His arm holds him up just enough, but his body is nearly completely flush to yours. Pressed almost entirely to you and not a scrap of clothing missing. Jake even has his socks still on.
"I like to hear words." He murmurs, fully grinding against you now and making you gasp when you feel him, feel it. "So, let me hear that pretty voice, please."
You go to open your mouth, but no words come out, just a burning red blush to heat up your face. Why does he have to hear you say it? Can't he read your mind by now?
"No," you sigh, shifting your hips up against his, "I was expecting more."
"Oh, so hugging too?" He teases, and to further your quick laugh, he wraps his arms around your body and flips onto his back, pulling you along with him, a mess of giggles.
In a moment like this, you could never see yourself ever parting from Jake. It feels like no one has ever known you so perfectly, has held you with such affection. All other men fade away to nothing when he's with you. Even when he's not with you too, it's only him.
With you on top of him, the sound of your laughter and breath filling his ears, he is sincerely content. If this is all the evening holds consider him the happiest man on earth, look no further for him. He is right here, lying under you.
Slowly, you push yourself up onto your knees and gaze fondly down at him. If he could spend the rest of his life being seen by you, and looking back into your own gleaming eyes, he'd live a life content.
You straddle his lap, tracing your fingers down his frame. Starting at his shoulders, down his chest to his abdomen, and then his hips. He watches you with a bitten lower lip, his heart thumping against his ribcage and mind begging you to lean down to him.
"I've always loved these shirts." You tug at the collar of the more than halfway unbuttoned top he wears, a dark navy-blue color that contrasts with his summer tanned skin.
Your fingers drift to the bottom two buttons (the only ones buttoned) and undo them, opening his shirt to showcase his torso. He hums as you rest your hands on the mattress on either side of him and lean down very slow to press a kiss in the middle of his chest. He sighs as you do so, and you can hear the exhale from his nose as well as feel his chest rise and fall deeply. It feels like being kissed by an angel.
He wishes he could come up with some sultry responses of his own right now but he's at a loss for words. With your wet kisses trailing around and down, lower, lower, lower, lower, lower, his brain is lost. What are words when you're there just beside him? Nothing honestly. So, he just hums very softly and quickly. It makes you smirk nonetheless.
"Can I kiss you here?" You whisper as you peck his hip. He gives you a fast 'uhhuh' response and you grin, switching to the opposite hip. "And here?" You repeat the action, and he closes his eyes, only to jolt up when you press your lips lower along the skin above the waistline of his jeans.
"Oh, f-fu-"
"Sorry," you sit up with him, eyes wide, "are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just," he swallows and runs a hand through his hair, looking you over. How unbelievably turned on and hot you look right now, as if he doesn't let you do something, or he doesn't do something to you, you'll fall over and die. "I'm not used to... I mean I'm used to it but not... with you?"
You chuckle understandingly, lightly setting your hands on his shoulders and leaning in, "Are you nervous?"
"Yes.
"You're not a virgin, right?" You joke and he throws you a stare that makes you giggle. His face softens from the sound, and he wraps his arms around you as you sit in his lap. "I'm nervous too." Your confession puts him slightly at ease, and he looks up at you when you ask, "Why are you nervous?"
"I don't know," he leans his head to the side and leans upward, casting kisses where your skin shows from beneath the collar of your t-shirt, "it's you. That's why. You."
"Should I leave?" You tease.
His hands find your hips and grip them, "No."
"Good," he can hear the smile in your voice, he loves it when you talk like that. You pull yourself away from him and lay back against the mattress, waving him to you, "Here."
That sense of being in control, you figure it will help with his nerves, and it does. He takes a grounding breath and moves over top of you, tucking his head back down to kiss your lips. Your kiss is full of reassurance, it calms him down immediately.
"You make me feel so safe." He says in a hushed voice once your mouths disconnect.
You smile, "Really?"
"Really," his fingers skate up beneath your baggy t-shirt, touching over just the sides of your waist, "I feel so understood with you. I don't even have to say anything, you just know." He looks down at where his hands have disappeared beneath the material, and you wonder if he can feel the goosebumps he is creating from his touch. "I don't know. You make me nervous and calm at the same time."
"I think that's called having a crush." You wrap your fingers around his wrists and prompt them to explore further.
His eyes look to yours as his hands move up your ribcage. His voice is full of faux nonchalance, the teasing tone makes you smirk, "Yeah? Probably. Something like that."
A crush is exactly what he's had on you for the past month and a half now, as juvenile as it sounds. Plainly put, it's true. And in true adolescent fashion, you both avoided each other's feelings for as long as you could.
"I really really like you, Jake." You say, smoothing his hair back.
He smiles, "Yeah? I like you too."
It's so... amateurish. So innocent. That simple admitting, finally coming to terms with it. That's all either of you needed to do.
You lick your lips, your voice coming out wispy as you say, "I want you."
His smile curls back into a smirk, his voice warm like whisky, "You have me." His hands slowly cup your breasts, closely watching your reaction as he slowly massages them in his hold, and he softly asks, "Can I have you?"
Nodding, you reach for the hem of your shirt and whisper back, "Please."
He'll be gentle with you, he decided early on. To touch you like this is sacred. Your body is beautiful and even the tiniest dent to your perfection would be entirely improper. You are to be handled like art, admired and loved like a fresh oil painting. And when your shirt slips over your head easily, you are Venus herself laying in his wake.
He pulls his hands away, sitting back and looking you over. A starved look is in his eyes, desperate and wild and just a tad bit hesitant. Your eyes and your entire body for that matter scream touch me! over and over. It's improper to touch the art though, right?
"Jake?" Your hands find his and intertwine your fingers firmly. "You're getting lost inside that head of yours."
"You're just so fucking beautiful." He sighs with a dreaminess to his voice.
You blush, and it spreads from your cheeks down your neck to your chest. His eyes roam the expanse of your skin before his lips come down to touch it, starting below your navel. You sigh and let go of his hands so he can hold himself up, trailing wet kisses up your stomach, the valley of your breasts, across your collarbones and throat then back down again. Your teeth catch your bottom lip as he sucks over one, licking over your nipple, then switches to the other. Tiny, whispering moans escape your lips, letting him know you like this. A lot.
"You were always so pretty," he whispers with his teeth grazing your delicate skin, just enough to make you whine. His hand makes sure to replace his mouth as he switches sides, and he continues mumbling against you, "Prettiest girl at every party, every show, everywhere all the time I swear. Every time I looked away from you, I just wanted to check one more time, get one more look."
"Shhh," his compliments stir you up but knowing that he's always been attracted to you, despite every other feeling before, it makes your head spin.
He shakes head, kissing the tops each of your tits once before sitting up and pushing them together. His eyes linger there, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, then he lets go and looks back up at you.
"You're the only person I want to see," he whispers, "I don't ever want to go back to the way it was before." And you know what he means, and it makes you smile, because neither do you.
"Me neither," you raise your hips in hopes of finding some friction, and he helps by pressing himself downward and grinding slowly against you, pulling a gasp from your lungs. "Jake."
He comes down lower, murmuring against your temple, "Say my name, baby."
Your voice is so shaky as you exhale his name once more, your hands coasting up his back. He pulls away slightly when you look down between the two of you, your hands holding the collar of his shirt and panting at the sight of his rolling hips. He watches your eyes darken and licks his lips, coming back down to kiss you intensely.
"Jake," it's a quick, surprised gasp from you, cupping his jaw with one hand and burying the fingers of your other one into his hair. "Please."
One of his hands grips your hip, fiddling with the material of your underwear there, pulling it and letting it snap back against your skin. Your legs fall open further for him, inviting him, and his curious hand wanders inwards. A stifled moan breaks free from you as he cups you over your panties, lifting his bowed head to watch you sink further back into the pillows. As his hand shifts over you, he notices the dampness, and it makes his hard-on grow.
"Shit," he practically wheezes out your name, looking at your underwear and seeing the wet spot on the front.
His forefinger hooks into the material and tugs it aside, revealing yourself to him. The air hitting your bare center makes you press your lips together and shut your eyes, partially because of excitement, partially because of nerves. God, is this really happening right now? Is it really Jake touching you like this, kissing you this way, looking at you with those eyes? Seeing you? Your hand grabs his wrist and pulls it away, grabbing his whole attention.
"What-"
"Sorry," you shake your head as you spot his concern, "I'm just... overthinking."
Are you though? This is Jake. The same Jake you met and decided to hate. The same one you ignored and avoided for months and months. The guy you grew to enjoy spending company with, and slowly became fond of him as a person. The one who made you fall like a teenager all over again.
"We've got so much in common." He grins, his warm eyes settling on you. "Tell me what you're thinking about."
You smile up at him. He may be unable to read minds, but he can calm you down just like that.
"Like," you stall for a second, especially when he comes down closer to you, tilting his head and giving you his entire focus. You take a deep breath, and he nods at you as silent encouragement, remaining patient. Finally, you just ask what's been on your mind the whole time: "Will we still be friends after this?"
The corners of his lips pull up into a smile, and he comes down to brush his lips over yours as he casually says, "We never really were friends."
You bring your hands up to his face and press him even closer into the kiss, deepening it and pulling moans and whines and sighs from each other. Your thighs hug his waist as his hand wanders around your body, and as it ventures lower and lower you let it.
His fingertip traces over the hem of your underwear, and you nod into the kiss, letting him slip his hand beneath. When his fingers slip through your wetness, you pull away and sigh, then let out a drawn-out whimper feeling those fingers spread you and run slowly through. It's relaxing, almost, that languid repetition, so when he gives you a quick circle around your clit, your gasp isn't overdramatic. You'd gotten lost in the haze and there he is to yank you out of it.
"Good?" He asks and you nod, eyebrows knitting together and jaw dropping when he plays with your bundle of nerves again. "God, you're gorgeous."
"Keep talking," you say in between breaths, "just, never shut up."
He grins, "Yeah? What is it? Is it my voice that does it for you?"
Especially that nonchalant tone he uses. He knows exactly what he is doing too when he hums the words as if he could care less. He cares though, so much. With you there he cares, so he keeps it up for you. And you just keep squirming and moaning for him like he knew you would.
"Yes," you confirm even though he didn't need it, your body gives you away completely. Your dewy skin, blown out eyes, wetness gathered between your soft thighs.
"Is it the things I say?" He asks but doesn't wait for a response, "Like, when I call you pretty. Because you are, such a nice, pretty girl. Or, when I ask you what you want... which by the way, what do you want?"
"You," you pant, and buck your hips as his finger circles your entrance, "please, Jake."
Holding your gaze he slips a single digit in, letting you grab his shoulders and gasp as he does so. This effect he has on you, he'll never get over it. How obsessed you are, how needy, desperate, and just captivated you are by him. The lightest brushes, the sweetest kisses, the most intimate caresses, it all leaves you wanting more. From, of all people, him.
How did we end up here? You both wonder.
"Oh my god," you stifle your noises with a bitten lower lip, tipping your brows upward and gazing at him as he curls his finger, pumping it slow and deep.
"Aren't you just an angel." He murmurs, watching your expressions of bliss, "Pretty baby."
"M-more," you squirm, dropping your hands from him and spreading your legs even further, submitting fully to him, "oh, Jake, please."
"Another?" He asks, and instead of teasing, gives it to you immediately because it's what you deserve. If you want it, he'll give it to you, he wants you to have whatever you desire. A squeak of surprise breaks from your lips as a second finger joins his first, his movements languid and perfectly timed, building you up steadily. "Oh, that's nice, you like that?"
"More." You gasp, moaning softly and glancing down at his drenched hand.
"Don't get greedy, pretty girl." He chuckles, kissing over the skin of your chest, continuing to trail his lips down and down and down... "How about I give her a little kiss, hm? So pretty, I just wanna..." he cuts himself off when he settles his shoulders between your legs and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your swollen clit.
"Jake!" It comes from you scandalously.
He hums into your wetness, lapping it up as he fingers you gently. A consistent build to get you right on the tipping edge. The noises you make, the way you move, how hot your skin has turned, it all encourages him to get you there.
"You are heaven," he sighs, kissing over your most sensitive, intimate area and pulling airy sighs from your lungs. Only a devil like him would be able to make you sing so holy right now.
It's been a long while since your last hook up, even longer since someone has gone down on you. And Jake is willingly doing it, happily lying between your thighs. Your heart beats faster and faster, and in some sort of effort to brace yourself, your fingers dive into his long hair, weaving between the tresses to get a good grip. The tugging and pulling from you seems to be good encouragement though, as he continues to hum into your core with every pull you give.
"You're gonna-" you cut yourself off with a whine, using one hand to push yourself up, looking down at him working his mouth over you. Unprepared moans spill from your lips, sensing that lovely feeling beginning to bloom all throughout you, a sign for what's about to happen. Your tone is warning as you push his hair out of his eyes and cry, "Jake..."
"Do it," he speaks into you, speeding his fingers up to a merciless pace, "Do it for me, baby."
All the touching and hearing and feeling and watching, you can't take it anymore. With a gasp, your other hand dives in his locks and you throw your head back, keeping his head in place and crying out when you finally let go of your breath.
You fall backward as he helps you ride it out, his tongue continuing to work over you and his fingers easing in and out of your soaked center. The sounds dripping off your lips feed his desire, telling him to keep sucking and lapping at you until your fingers softly push against his forehead for him to stop. His eyes flicker up to your face, glowing post-orgasm, and he delivers one last kiss to your clit before sitting up.
You hum softly, feeling him pull his fingers out and when you finally open your eyes again, you catch him sticking them in his mouth. A pulse is revived at once, your cunt throbbing from what just happened as well as desiring it once more. You want it again. You want more. You want it all.
"Fuck," you giggle out, making him smile and crawl up over you, "damn, Jake."
"You liked it?" He teases, hovering over you and kissing your cheeks.
"I did, very much."
"Wanted to do that ever since the jazz club." He admits, kissing your temple and hairline.
Your heart flutters, "Really?"
He pulls back and tilts his head side to side before mumbling, "Okay, maybe it's been longer than that."
You swat his shoulder, pretending to be scandalized, "You're a perv."
"Only for you." He winks, then comes forward, mumbling as he begins to connect your lips, "Now don't act like you don't wanna kiss me, your pussy is saying otherwise."
"Shit..." you hook your arms behind his neck, accepting his mouth on yours. It heats up rather quickly.
His tongue slips in against yours, teeth clashing together, biting your bottom lip. It draws sighs and moans from you, causes your body to roll up against his, your hands start to wander.
"Take this off." You tug the material of his shirt off his right shoulder.
"Thought you liked it?" He teases with a grin as he strips it off. It's getting far too hot in here anyway.
"I do, I just-" you swallow thickly, trying to even out your breaths when he presses his bare chest against yours and cradles you in his arms, "I like the way you make me feel."
He wasn't expecting an answer, but likes it nonetheless. He grins, nodding at you, then asking, "How do I make you feel?"
"Incredible." You smile back, cupping his face in your hands, "Special. I've never felt like this before. Never felt this."
It's called love. This is how it feels to be loved by someone.
"You're special, and amazing, and perfect. You're all of it." He leans his face forward and kisses you softly, "You're everything."
Your throat tightens and your eyes sting, you shut them to stop the tears and focus on his lips against yours. You've never wanted something more, from anyone, with anyone. You want this with Jake, you want it now. Breaking the kiss, you breathe in and look up at him with big eyes.
"Are we...?" You trail off.
His mouth hooks up higher on one side than the other as he replies, "I was hoping. Didn't want to assume anything though."
He's only joking with a wink, and it makes you chuckle softly. His eyes wander down your naked body, admiring you and everything you have to offer. How beautiful you are, how fucking lucky he is.
"You didn't happen to pack a condom, did you?" You bite your lip, crossing invisible fingers.
"I brought some." He breathes out, pausing and looking at you before pushing himself up and basically tripping over to his duffel bag.
"Were you planning this?" You giggle to hide your nerves.
After crouching he stands up and walks back over, a laze of a smirk on his mouth as he returns and kneels at your feet. Your eyes catch the shine of the foil, and then you meet his.
He shrugs, "You never know what to expect. Always come prepared, right?"
Your knees knock together as you look up at him, because honestly you aren't all that used to lying naked in conversation with Jake.
"At least one of us is," you smile lazily, recalling the moment of indecision in your bedroom, "I was going to bring something prettier for you, but didn't want to overpack."
He bites his lip, tucking the package between his first and middle fingers before setting his hands on your knees and spreading them apart again. Your shy eyes meet his between your legs, and he takes his time looking you over, lingering in certain areas.
"You're already perfect like this," he tells you, then looks back up with a sly wink and adds, "just wear what you had planned for next time," oh, the promise of a next time is enticing as ever. He shifts a little closer on his knees, "what... did you have planned?"
"Red," you hum, watching the gears in his head turn, a smirk growing on his face, "lace," you add softly, dramatically throwing onto the end, "tiny. I haven't worn it in ages."
"Next time." He suggests, tossing you the condom package, which luckily you catch, before he gets up and removes his briefs.
You watch with your head turned, swallowing thickly as he kicks them away before turning to you. You do your best to keep your eyes on his, but it's impossible. He fights his shyness with a grin, taking a deep breath and getting ready to get back on top of you, but you move and crawl over to him, still just staring at his length.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, you raise your hand, then lift your eyes up to his, "Can I touch you?"
It's just barely a whisper past your pretty lips. He nods, expecting you to wrap your fingers around him, and you do, but what makes a choked moan slip from him is your tongue lapping up against the silken head of his cock.
"Oh, fuck," he looks down at you with tilted brows, pulling your hair back into a fist as you lock your eyes with his, "baby... oh..."
You would have never expected Jake to be so whiney, so winded. He's already beginning to pant, his hips starting to buck out of instinct. You don't mind it when he pushes deeper, when his tip taps the back of your throat, because he doesn't mind when you gag softly and pull back a little before going deeper.
"Fuck, fuck," his eyes close, then he blinks them open and shakes his head, "s-stop, sweetheart," oh a new nickname, you like it, "I can't, I won't last. Shit..."
You stop bobbing your head and gently pull off him, tilting your head up to see his face. Pink cheeked and darkened eyes, he reaches his hand down to cup the side of your face, stroking his thumb along your chin. He brushes over your lips, pulling your bottom one downward, then letting it snap back.
"God, you're perfect." He whispers, coming forward and making you lay back.
"Please stop saying that." You chuckle softly, letting him crawl over top of you.
"Perfect face, body, mouth, cunt," he breathes it, his hand blindly searching over the sheets for the condom, "and a heart to match."
How does he speak such sweetness and filth simultaneously? In your daydreams, you pictured him just like this, but you never thought it would be so pinpoint.
"Come on," you whine softly, glancing at the shine of the package, nodding to it, "I can't wait."
"So eager." He grins, holding himself up on his forearm and holding your chin as he kisses you slowly, "I want to make this last."
"I know," you exhale, "and it will, so let's start."
With a nod and an extra peck, he pulls away and sits back on his heels, tearing open the package. You watch him slip it on over his length, which, to be honest, is well above average. You bite your lip, looking up at him when he lets out a soft sigh and moves up onto his knees.
"You ready?" He asks, guiding himself to your entrance.
You nod to him, catching his eyes with yours, "Yes."
There's no going back, there never really was. But this is the last moment before everything changes, forever. You don't ever want to go back though, you wouldn't have it any other way.
A quiet gasp breaks from you when he sinks the head in, and slowly fills you inch by inch. He grits his teeth together, coming down to you and placing his mouth on yours. Hushed moans come from past your lips, your hand bracing yourself on his bicep, nails creating half crescents in his skin.
It's a delightful stretch, that burn of pleasure that widens your legs further. You welcome him, and he takes it, sliding in to the hilt, and pausing once he's bottomed out.
He pulls his lips away and looks down at you with a gaping mouth, breathing in and out deeply. Your eyes are shut and your brows are tensed, adjusting to his size. He brushes his mouth over your skin, your shoulders and chest and neck, whispering the sweetest of words one can offer.
"You're so good," he says, a light rasp in his voice, "take your time baby, there's no rush." You nod and lick your lips, trying to relax in his hold. He groans softly when you tighten around him, just from the way he kisses and speaks to you. "Calm down for me honey."
"Trying," you squeak out, finally opening your eyes and looking at him. Your eyes are so dark, you already look fucked out. You sound like it too when you breathlessly say, "you know, it's been a while."
"I know," he nods, cupping the side of your face, "I'm gonna go slow, okay?"
"Thank you," you smile weakly, gasping when he shifts slightly, "oh, fu..."
You're just the tiniest bit sensitive from earlier too, that high hasn't fully faded away. With Jake, you're unsure if it ever will.
"Sorry-"
"No, no keep moving." You grasp his shoulders, "Oh my god, Jake. You're fucking huge."
He grins, running his tongue over his teeth and grunting as he winds his hips back and slowly pushes back in, "Feeding my ego..."
"Shut up," you breathe a chuckle, your smile faltering as he grinds into you. You turn your face into his cheek and whimper softly into his ear, making his hips buck and his eyes close.
"God damn," he keeps himself as close to you as possible, and seems to talk to himself as he whispers, "tightest little thing..." It causes you to clench around him again, pulling sweet sounds from his chest.
His strokes are evenly full, pulling almost all the way out before pushing deep back in. Your head tilts lazily back against the pillow, hands smoothing over every inch of his soft skin, hands pushing against his lower back in encouragement, even drifting lower to give a cheeky squeeze.
He grins, running the tip of his nose against the side of yours, deeply murmuring, "Well hello there."
"Hi," you play innocent, rolling your hips up against him.
He pins yours down with his own, his words are quick whispers through the air, "You're quite pretty like this."
"Am I?" You ask, tucking his long hair back behind his ears as he nods. Cupping his face, you whisper back, "You should see yourself then." Then, softer, add, "Prettier."
He shakes his head, beads of sweat decorating his hair line and upper lip, grasping your hip with one hand, and grunting out, "I am nothing compared to you, Y/N."
You're about to rebuttal that statement- because how untrue is that? - but he shifts to his knees, taking your other hip and winding back his own. The yelp that flies past your lips surely echoes, and the moan that follows behind it should leave you red faced with embarrassment. However, you could really care less, especially when he slams back into you again, building his thrusts up to a heavy pounding.
"Yeah? Yeah, you like it?" He asks, a growl in his voice.
You're so used to the soft and smoothness of it, you're taken by surprise, but it makes your desire grow. Words can't form on your tongue, so you offer a nod and a cry, arching your back when he hooks his elbow around your leg and pushes it upward.
"Taking me so well, look at that," his eyes cast downward between you two, watching your wetness spread everywhere. He slows for a second, watching him slide in and out smoothly before looking back to you. "Like such a good," he snaps his hips with each word, "fucking," your eyes roll back and your hands fist around the bedsheets, "girl."
Your body tenses for a moment, quick as lightning, and you take a breath, opening your eyes to see that he's stalled. Purposely too. He lifts your leg higher, resting it on his shoulder, and kisses against your inner ankle, up your inner calf. You sigh out, letting go of the sheets.
"Were you close?" He mumbles against your skin, already knowing the answer.
You stay silent, not sure why you blush, but you do, and it gives you away. With that shit-eating grin he leans forward making a quick wail hiccup out of you. He goes even deeper at this angle. Fuck, Jake, how are you so good at this?
"Oh, you were just right on the edge, huh?" He kisses the corner of your mouth lightly, "Hold it just a little longer baby, it'll feel so good."
"Jakey-" you whine quietly, pinching your brows together, looking up at him with a pout.
It takes a lot to resist that look. If you started begging with words, surely he'd give it to you.
He licks over your lips, smiling when you lazily kiss him back, unable to refuse his kiss. Mumbling into your mouth, he suggests, "Let's slow down, okay? Take it nice and slow," he pumps his hips agonizingly slow, just drawing sighs and whines out of you like there's an endless rope of them, "yes, just like that. Oh, it's good? Is it good for my girl?"
His girl.
"Yes," you speak without thinking, like he has a spell on you. Because if you could have it your way, he'd be fucking you hard into this mattress, but because it's him whispering all this to you, then of course it's good. It's fucking perfect. "Thank you."
"I like your decent manners." He chuckles, continuing that oh so soft pace as he lifts his chin and looks down at you, "Say yes sir."
"Yes sir."
His cock throbs, you can feel it twitch. You can't help it when you giggle, squeezing him and watching his mouth fall into an 'O' shape. His thick eyebrows knit together, eyes squeeze shut.
Oh, what do we have here?
You hum it sweetly to him, "Thank you, sir."
He presses his lips together into a tight line, chuckling through them, opening his eyes to look at you. His free hand comes to grip your throat, thumb slipping up and down over it. There's no real pressure, you can breathe in and out just fine, but it's that feeling of possession, that hold he has on you, that's what does it. You bite your bottom lip to hold back all the desperate sounds you're embarrassed to let out.
"You better settle down," he speaks, "I can't fuck you like a whore on our first night, even if it's what you deserve."
"Jakey..." your thighs twitch to squeeze shut, and you gasp when he picks up his thrusts just a tad. "Oh, fuck.
"Won't do it on our second night either." He seems to be rambling on, but when you peek up at him, he's staring right at you with even eyes. His chest rises and falls as he speaks, "You deserve to be fucked just like this. Just like a good girl."
"Don't stop." You whisper to him, watching as he wets the pad of his thumb and brings it to your clit. Sexual sounds and profanities drip from your tongue, adding fuel to the fire.
"Sweet and slow," he breathes, barely getting the words out, "you gonna cum for me all sweet, baby? Gonna get off on a slow fuck?" He crams himself all the way inside and grinds his hips, causing you to stare at him with unfocused eyes and tiny cries tumbling out of you. He doesn't stop drawing tight circles on your clit with his thumb, doesn't stop encouraging you with filthy words, "Yeah, I can feel it. I'll let you have it this time, cum for me. Let it go."
You swallow thickly up at him, that burning coil in your tummy just winding and winding. He gives you a little mercy, thrusting into you at an average pace, a perfect clip in each movement. Your leg falls from his shoulder as he comes down to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes. Filled with absolute lust, both your eyes are so dark you hardly recognize the other. Soft "uh"s hiccup out of you with each stroke, each bounce of your body.
When your fingers grab his shoulders and pinch into his skin, he knows you're there, and he nods, telling you, "Do it, right now. Fucking cum for me, baby."
Tightening up like lightning in a bottle, finally you burst. Sparks tingle through every inch of your body, your vision going white, complete and utter ecstasy taking hold of you, coursing through your veins. You're not sure what spews out of you, because your ears are ringing, but Jake is loving it.
He's done a great job holding himself together so far, but now, especially now, he can't hold back. When you do regain your sense of sound, just barely descending from your haze, you can hear him whining and groaning back to you. A constant sound of pleasure flows out of you like a leaking faucet, every exhale, a satisfied sigh.
You moan softly, grabbing his hand away from your bundle of nerves and intertwining your fingers. He looks to your hand, letting your leg fall from his shoulder as he takes your other, interlocking your fingers as he fucks you through the aftershocks, ultimately getting him to his high.
"Oh, baby," his eyes are half lidded and glossy, "I'm almost there. Almost there, sweetheart."
"Come on, Jake," you encourage him softly, squeezing his hands and biting your lip, "do it for me, please. I want it."
"God..." he lets go of your hands, sitting back on his knees and hauling you up into his lap. You let out a yelp of surprise and a long moan at the switch in positions, also still sensitive from your second orgasm of the night. It doesn't stop you from hooking your arms behind his neck and rolling your hips against his. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he pants, "Got another for me, baby? Can you give me one more?"
"Jake..." you whimper softly, unsure of yourself.
"Nice and easy baby, give me one more," he whispers softly, his hips losing control and fucking up into you, "atta girl, cum. I see it in your eyes. One more sweet girl, just for me."
"Only for you." You muffle your words against his lips, clenching around him like a vice, making shaky moans fall from him. Your hand comes to grip his shoulder as it comes over you once again quickly, "Jake-!"
He tugs you back against him and lets out an animalistic groan, spilling into the condom as you reach your third climax. All sense between you two is lost, your cries intermingle in the air as your bodies sink into one another.
"Yes, yes, yes," he sighs as he lets go, hands pressed against your lower back as you slowly come to a stop, slouching into him.
Fuck. What just happened?
He moves to lay you down, and your arms tighten around his shoulders, "Stay. Don't move. Not yet."
He nods, resting his head on your shoulder, letting you relax in his lap, his voice thick in reply, "Okay."
And he holds you there, feeling you rest against him, smiling to himself. Nothing has felt better than this, nothing has mattered more than this moment, and he doesn't want it to ever end. He cherishes the way your fingers comb softly through his hair, how your lips pucker over the shell of his ear, how your breathing grows softer and softer.
"Are you tired?" He asks, finally breaking that comfortable silence, hand running over the expanse of your back.
You nod lazily, turning to whisper in his ear, "Can I stay here with you tonight?"
He lifts his head and smiles at you, coming to lean his forehead to yours, whispering back, "Please, stay."
So you do.
When you wake in the morning, there's that view you love. Yes, mountains, when you look down, past your blanket covered feet, out those great windows you see them. But, also, when you turn your head just to the left, there he is with you.
You find yourself looking over at him more than you do the mountains.
Completely unaware, there in his sleeping state. So trusting, feeling so safe. Your lips turn upward as you think about what he told you last night. His thick eyelashes kiss the tops of his cheeks, hair still messy from your hands the night prior, pink lips parted just barely.
You slowly turn onto your side, not wanting to wake him just yet. Admiring him like this was so special, you've never seen Jake like this. Hair has begun to grow on his upper lip and chin, the scar on his septum shimmers in the morning light, above the pink of his cheeks are his summer freckles, speckled here and there, just barely beginning to fade.
Would it be wrong to lean over and kiss him now?
If not for waking him, but because it's too soon?
He shifts and you sink back, closing your eyes and burying half your face into the pillow beneath your head. As you feign sleep, he wakes up. With your eyes shut, you can feel his on you, walking over your figure beneath the sheet. The mattress dips and he gets up, and you listen to his footsteps pad around the room, clothing slipping over his skin.
He rounds the bed to the other side, and he leans over you from behind, warm hand resting on your hip. His lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice warming you up as he whispers, "Come out to the balcony with me."
He kisses your temple and drags his fingertips up your waist before slipping away. Your eyes fly open immediately, and you turn, but he's already left the room.
A giddy smile washes over your features, and you bring your hand up to touch where he just kissed you. The smile stays on your face as you take a deep breath and lay back for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling, then out those windows you love so much. The view, for some reason, looks better when Jake's at your side.
Swiftly, you get up, retrieving last night's underwear as well as stealing Jake's corduroy shirt. It smells like him, and it warms you right up despite your lack of pants. Then, tiptoeing down the hall, you catch him at the coffee maker, watching the dark liquid drip drip drip.
He knows you're behind him, so when your arms slip around his bare waist, he isn't startled. He knew you were awake the whole time. His hands hold your arms, and he peeks over his shoulder at you, greeted by your sweet smile. To wake up and see you every morning, that would be heaven.
"Hi there," he smiles back, his sleepy eyes shine, slowly turning to face you.
"Morning." You blink up at him.
His smile widens when he realizes what you're wearing, "Like that on ya. Keep it."
"No." You shake your head, "I like it on you."
"So then take it off and give it back." He winks teasingly.
"But it's cooold." You fake a shiver, then snuggle up closer to him, pressing the tip of your nose against his pulse.
It thumps with excitement. How is it that you can get his heart rate going at such an early hour?
He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you, leaning his head down against the top of yours. His hands don't wander until you begin to suck kisses to his skin, then he assumes it's a fair fight, so they move downward to squeeze your ass.
"How was it for you? Last night, I mean." He tries his best to keep his voice steady, but it's difficult when your teeth graze his collar bone. He decides to crack a joke to keep things light, "You talk in your sleep, by the way."
"I do not." You scoff pushing yourself closer to him and leaning your head back just enough to look at his smile, "Perfection, though. Everything was perfect."
He looks at your lips when you talk, asking, "All of it?"
You smile softly, looking away with a blush as you nod, "Mhm."
"You sure know how to feed my ego." He chuckles, walking you backwards. Back, back, back, until you reach the edge of the table, then up onto that. He whispers as his mouth skates across your neck, "You should know better."
You smile to yourself, leaning back on your palms and tilting your head as he stands between your legs. He kisses you delicately, as if to not disrupt any part of you right now, to touch you without leaving a trace. He did a good job leaving you fairly unmarked last night, he's not so sure about this morning though.
His hand grips the outside of your thigh, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin, "I need you, Y/N."
He grinds his morning hard-on against you, and you almost roll your eyes at how needy he is. However, that would be quite hypocritical considering the fact that you want nothing more than for him to flip you over and take you right there on the table.
"Again?" You huff a laugh, then gasp as his other hand cups you over the front of your panties. You try to play it off with in a lowered voice, "Such a desperate boy."
"Fuck, please," he begs as if he's not the one in control. Jake is very much in control though; he just knows you like that little taste of power. He likes it too. Only a little though.
"What about our coffee?" You hum out seductively. He wonders how it's possible for someone to sound so sexy when uttering about coffee.
"It'll be there after." He pulls your panties to the side as he hastily pushes his briefs halfway down his thighs, "Won't take me long."
"I know it won't take much for you but what about-" you gasp, and your arms buckle, your strength wavering as he slips inside easily. You're so wet, practically dripping onto the table.
"You were saying?" He grins, finally coming forward to kiss you.
You let out a dreamy sigh, fully laying back as he begins to thrust evenly, managing to get out right before you get lost in the haze, "You better pull out."
He nods his head in promise, quickly unbuttoning his shirt on you, and picking up the pace as he begins to pant. It really didn't take that long, and you should be embarrassed by that, but neither of you are. He wipes your stomach clean with a paper towel from the nearby roll, and when he comes back after throwing it away, he peppers kisses up your torso, between your breasts, along your throat till he reaches your lips. You can't help but giggle into his mouth.
"Coffee?" He mumbles, handing you his shirt as he breaks away. He's going to conveniently "lose it" by slipping it into your bag before you leave later today.
You slip it on with an exhale, "Yes please."
He watches you saunter away, out onto the balcony, and it isn't until his coffee cup begins to overflow that he realizes he's been staring. With a muffled curse he flinches and stops, rushing for more paper towels to clean up his mess.
You share a seat with him, curled up in his lap and sipping from your mugs. The fog slowly clears away until the sky breaks through, and you watch the mountains come to life with your head resting against his.
"Wish we could hide away up here forever," he whispers, turning so he can secret it into your ear, "I just wanna keep you all to myself."
"Don't lock me away in a tower, please." You joke, your lips stretching into a smile at the feel of his lips spoiling over your cheek, "My hair isn't that long." He breathes out a laugh through his nose, hiding his face into the side of your neck, you whisper back to him, "Me too though. We should just stay."
"C'mere." He turns you in his lap so you're straddling it, and his lips are on yours.
It's slow, deep, and lazy, and you're incredibly addicted to it. His taste and feel, how soft his lips are and how gentle his hands touch over you. Not a care in the world, no time limit, no worry for any onlookers. Just love, so much it trickles over the brim and washes over both of you.
The words 'honeymoon phase' whisper in your head, and that little phrase warns you that this maybe won't last as long as you're hoping it will. You push the thought away and kiss him harder, getting lost in him instead of your mind.
He pulls away with a smack, making you take a deep inhale to catch your breath and sit back on his thighs. He seems breathless too, lightly holding onto your hips, but only to circle his thumbs over you. His eyes trail over your figure leisurely, soaking you all in.
You're not sure what he's thinking now, why he's staring so hard. What's going on in that head of his?
"God you're just," his hands smooth over your waist then your arms and clasp your hands, "gorgeous."
It feels like a romance movie, that's what scares you just the slightest bit. When you leave, reality will set in, and it will hit hard. What happens when you get back to Nashville? What will happen after this weekend? You wonder...
"No m'not," you let the sleeves of his shirt slip over your hands and bring them up to shield your face from him. It makes him smile and tilt his head, waiting for you to peek out behind your hands.
"Yeah. You are." You just barely hear him speak but catch the way his lips move.
You both fall silent. You, trying not to let looming thought after looming thought fill your mind. Him, he's just becoming absolutely enamored by you, willingly too. He was falling for you, and now he's fallen, and it's an endless pool of you. You, you, you.
Staring into each other's eyes doesn't last too long, suddenly Jake's phone begins to vibrate, and he lifts it to see who's calling. He rolls his eyes with a sigh.
"Of course," he turns his phone for you to see the contact, and it's Josh.
He can't seem to go very long without a phone call from his twin.
He rolls his eyes with a smile, signaling with a pointed finger that it will only take a moment. You nod and let him take the call.
Raising it to his ear, he sighs, "Hello?"
You watch his face as it contorts from tired irritation to confusion, then worry. He sits up and your heart drops, especially when he silently asks you to stand so he can get up. You watch him frown and listen intently to everything Josh says.
"Is everyone alright?" He asks, and your chest squeezes.
What happened?
"Ok, well that's good," he nods, his body relaxing. He glances back at you, sending you a tight smile. You lift your brows back, wishing you could hear what was being told. Instead you stand there silently. Jake turns with a hand on his hip, "No, Josh, just go ahead and tell me, it's okay."
He stands there silently, his face going blank. He starts to zone out, listening to whatever Josh is telling him and absorbing it all. Getting back in that head of his, thoughts all at once hitting him with rapid fire. The rising and falling of his chest picks up, his eyes seem to burn red.
"God, you're fucking kidding," he lets out, his voice perfectly calm and even. It's almost scary how he says it. His eyes fall closed, and his nostrils flare with a deep breath as he exhales, "yeah, I'll be back today. Leaving here pretty soon." He nods his head to something Josh says, "Yeah. Okay, just, I guess keep me updated. Alright, love you too."
He hangs up the phone and looks out into the valley. You stand there, watching him, afraid to make a sound, afraid to even move. So you wait until he does, and he faces you.
"The studio," he shakes his head with a hopeless shrug, "it got broken into last night. They stole a bunch of stuff."
"Oh, Jake." You take a step forward, at a loss for words. From the look on his face, you can tell he's not finished, so you stay quiet.
He takes a breath, then tells you, "They took the Gibson. My first one."
Your mouth falls open in shock, and the back of your throat burns. He looks away, and the tiniest tremble of his lower lip catches your eye. All you want to do is pull him into your arms and comfort him. Should you? Does he want that?
"Oh my god," your feet move before you have a chance to think, and your body makes the decision for you. You pull Jake into your arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Jake."
He weakly wraps his arms around you standing tense in your grasp. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to hug him right now, maybe he doesn't want to be touched after this devastating news. But you couldn't help it. Your need to comfort him took over, you hated seeing him in such distress.
And even though it isn't as intense as the way he is feeling, you're upset too. For him. He doesn't deserve this, none of the guys do.
"I think I'm just gonna..." he pulls away, taking a step back towards the door, trying to gather his thoughts. It's not like he wants to leave you now, but he's not sure what else to do. "I'm gonna go shower."
He needs to collect his thoughts. Alone.
So you let him go.
The shower helped him, so did being alone for a moment. When you reunited with him, he was the one to pull you into his arms, and he let out a big sigh as you rubbed your hand up and down his back. When he pulled away, you noticed his reddened eyes, and softly caressed the side of his face.
It soothed him, your touch. It's why he lets you rest your hand in his on the ride home. The drive is quiet, music is a constant in his car though, so some mellow folk plays softly in the background as you cruise down the road together.
He pulls onto your street and slows to a stop outside your place, parking his car. Your turn to him, sad smile on your face.
"Thank you for this weekend," you say softly, cocking your head to the side and holding his hand in both of yours, "I'm sorry for how it ended.
"It'll be alright." He shakes his head, dread taking over him knowing that he'll be heading to the studio after this.
In all honesty, he just wants to stay with you. Or you go with him. Either way, he doesn't want to part with you. Like he said, you make him feel safe.
"I'll see you soon?" You ask, hope coloring your tone.
He grins, "Of course," saying it like it's obvious, then leans over to peck your lips, "do you want me to walk you up?"
"I'll be fine," you decline sweetly, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb over it softly, "you should get to your brothers."
"Let me get your bag out for you at least." He says and doesn't give you a chance to reply because he opens his door and heads to his trunk. With a soft sigh you follow him, and he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Thank you, Y/N.
"Stop acting like I'm leaving and never coming back." You giggle into his chest.
What nonsense that would be. You can't imagine leaving Jake ever, especially now.
"I'll see you soon." He pulls back, then leans forward to capture one last kiss before he heads off. You smile into it, feeling on top of the world.
It hurts more than you expect, when you grab your stuff and head inside, standing at the doorway to watch him leave. He waved to you, and you wave back, and then he slowly pulls off, driving off. You watch until he turns the corner, and that's when you can finally hear the silence. Constant Jake for a weekend filled you to the brim with joy. Now you're alone, and it feels so wrong.
The day drags on, time goes by so slowly when Jake isn't around for you to spend it with. He stays on your mind all day, and you wonder if you're on his... Not only that though, you also keep thinking about what's coming up on Saturday, how you're supposed to prove them all wrong with Jake. Convince them you're friends.
We never really were friends.
So then how do we prove this?
It weighs on you, like a ton. All day, into the evening, then night. And you haven't spoken to Jake since that morning. Not that you haven't noticed, you've noticed his absence the entire time.
You felt empty without him, terribly bored. Your small townhouse of an apartment, how you love it, is extremely spacious with just you inside of it. Nothing seems to catch your attention, or keep you entertained.
You need company over.
You only miss a certain someone.
Your efforts to ignore your phone fail, and you snatch it from your countertop. God, how is it already 9 o'clock? It makes you feel guilty, calling so late after already spending the entire weekend with him and the shit he's gone through with the break-in. He can't be asleep though, Jake's always been a night owl. It's too late though, the dial starts, and you lift your phone to your ear.
One ring. Two rings. Three. Four. Five...
"You've reached the voicemail box of..."
You pull it away and hang up, setting it facedown. He's tired. It's been a long day for him. He's just tired.
You've just inched into that overthinking mindset of yours when your phone buzzes with a text message. It's Jake.
Hey sorry I didn't have my phone on me
Why'd you call?
You're quick with a reply.
Bored
He's just as fast. He must be bored too.
Ah how can I assist?
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and stare at the screen. There are many things Jake can do to keep you entertained, it just depends on how daring you are.
You could come over...
You send the text after staring at it for far too long. It was just suggestive enough. He could come over. Now, what happens after he does... well that's a mystery to find out.
You regret your choice of words when he takes a little longer to respond, and go to type another message until his text comes through.
You know I wish I could
I'm at Josh's rn
You scoff when he sends you an emoji rolling it's eyes.
Alrighttt
If it isn't too late afterwards could you swing by?
Miss me that much princess?
You feel your cheeks blush.
Yes
He sighs discreetly, running his fingertip over his lips as he reads your messages. If only he could pay you a visit. His eyes flicker to his scotch on Josh's dining table before his thumbs fly across the screen, typing his response.
I miss you too
Your heart flutters.
But there's no way I'll be driving tonight or even leaving Josh's. He broke out the whiskey.
You chuckle. Of course they're drinking on a Sunday night. Only rockstars can.
I would say come and get me but that would blow our cover, wouldn't it?
You deflate a little, walking back into your bedroom as you read his message. Yes, it would. Unfortunately. Even though you aren't just friends, you still must convince them that you are friends. For some reason...
You'd get into it with him if it weren't so late. Instead you flop back onto your mattress.
I guess so
He looks around to see if Josh is anywhere near, but he's absorbed in making himself something to eat, so he sends you another text.
I wish I could hear your sweet voice
See your pretty face
Touch you
Your legs squeeze together, tighter with each message. What is he playing at?
You play innocent.
Is this the whiskey talking?
Then, abandoning your phone with a giddy giggle, you jump up and race over to your dresser. Opening that sock drawer and digging out the red piece you'd contemplated packing, the one you described to him last night. Slipping it on quickly, you dive back for your phone, reading his answer.
If the whiskey were talking, it would be much filthier darling
Your stomach flips and you clutch your phone to your chest with a sigh before opening your eyes and tapping on the camera app. Sure, you have a few old scandalous photos lost somewhere far back in your camera roll, but you figure Jake deserves something fresh. Something in his favorite color.
You take a few pictures from different angles. Some with your face, others without. Showcasing your bra, your panties, twisting to show off the back of what little there is of it. You settle with your results after taking a few cheeky snaps, ones with a winking eye and puckered lips.
When you open your conversation with him again, he's sent you another text that makes you laugh softly.
It would have a British accent too most likely
Whatever that means. Alter-ego perhaps? You'd love to meet this side of Jake, whoever it is with a cockney accent.
Jake reclines in his chair, half listening to his twin go off about the pros and cons of queso and salsa with tortilla chips. He's enjoying this text conversation with you far too much to give Josh all his attention for another one of his silly tangents. The bubble with three flashing dots pops up and he grows excited. You took your time with this reply, he wonders what you have in store for him.
Well, as much as I'd like to see you and you'd like to see me, I'll settle for a lonesome night of your memory. Maybe these can tide you over till our next meetup?
He frowns softly at your words until three attachments follow, and his jaw drops, all the air leaving his lungs in a wheeze.
Please do not share with your brother
<3
He mumbles under his breath, "Fuck me..."
"What?"
His eyes snap up, and he suddenly remembers he is not alone. Josh stares at him with a plate of homemade nachos in hand, one eyebrow lifted higher than the other. Jake stares back like a deer caught in headlights, slowly shielding his phone screen by pressing it to his chest.
"Who are you texting?" Curious Josh asks, coming closer.
Jake locks his phone, setting it on the table, "No one."
"Bullshit," he rolls his eyes, setting the plate down close enough to share with Jake, "tell me."
"I wasn't texting anyone, okay?" He looks at the food but doesn't take any, shifting in his seat, trying his best to ignore his growing erection.
Of course you had to send him those now... were those taken tonight? Were those taken just now? The thought of you at home just in that tiny little set by yourself makes him itch for his car keys. He knows better though. Josh knows better too than to let his brother leave like this.
Josh stares at Jake, knowing it's an obvious lie but not pushing any further. He knows when to give up, and with Jake it's best to start early.
Shrugging, he changes the subject, "'Kay, so," he grins and points to the cheese with a quick laugh, "hah, queso," he chuckles to himself and manages to crack a smile on Jake's stone-cold features too before continuing, "you ready for Saturday? I'm still not entirely convinced about this you and Y/N being friends thing. I mean you hated her for so long."
"Things change," Jake says. Things do indeed change, they can change quite a bit actually. He's not fond of being reminded of his hatred either, in fact, he almost hates himself for how he once felt about you. So, he adds, "I don't hate her."
Jake's phone buzzes. Josh's eyes flicker to the cellphone laying facedown then to Jake who seems unfazed. He's actually dying to see what it is, hoping it's another picture from you. Josh looks to Jake once his phone vibrates a second time, watching to see if he checks it. He sits there, pretending not to notice it.
"Your phone went off." Josh informs him.
Jake waves it off, "It's nothing."
"Nothing?"
"It's an email."
"An email?"
"You know," Jake stands, swirling the rest of the brown liquid in his glass before downing it and setting the glass back down, looking at Josh, "I'm calling it a night. Thanks for chatting with me."
Josh smirks and shakes his head, "So many secrets... how do you manage to keep them all? Do you not tell anyone?"
Jake grabs his phone, slips it in his pocket, and saunters away from the table. Of course he talks about this secret, with the one he's keeping it with. You.
"Goodnight!" He chirps, walking down the hall.
"Alright, I'll just be out here watching Mona Lisa Smile all alone..." Josh grumbles, getting up with his nachos and heading to the living room. He pauses, calling back to Jake as he departs, "We're having a meeting about the break-in tomorrow, don't forget."
"How could I?" Jake grumbles back at the reminder.
Once he reaches the guest room, Jake peeks down the hall before softly clicking the door shut, locking it too. He checks his phone, and sure enough, two more messages, both from you.
I'm off to bedCall me in the morning
He's fucked. This is all fucked. But right now, he doesn't care.
When he wakes Josh's house is silent, and his jeep is gone from the driveway. Alone in his twin's house, Jake snoops around for the coffee and brews a pot that he'll only drink a fourth of. Then, with mug in hand, he dials you up.
"Hello?" You tuck your phone between your ear and shoulder as you pull on your loafers.
"Good morning," he murmurs warmly, "were those pictures taken specially for me?"
You smile, standing up after you've got both shoes on your feet. You're running late for work, you overslept because you were up practically all night thinking about him. He was thinking about you too.
"Mhmm," you hum so sweetly, walking to your mirror and fixing your clothes, touching up your hair, "did you like them? I never got a reply."
"Loved them," he licks his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek, "what're you doing today?"
"Well, it's a Monday. Most of my Mondays are spent at my desk where I am employed." Your voice drops in sarcasm and for some reason he just absolutely loves the sound of it.
"Hey..." he whines softly at your teasing, making you giggle.
"Did you just wake up?"
"Maybe..."
You smile, taking your phone and walking down to your kitchen where your purse and keys reside, "Well, I have about 10 minutes to get to work and it's a 20 minute drive," he can hear you lock your front door and walk down the path, unlocking your car and getting in it, "and I'd love to keep chatting but really need to focus."
"Am I that big of a distraction?" He hums.
"Yes, yes you are." You laugh, starting the car and sitting back in your seat for a second, "You know I contemplated calling out because I just wanted to see you, how bad is that?"
"Hmmm, not as bad as me contemplating taking an Uber to yours in the middle of the night." He grins.
"Oh, that's bad." You muse.
You both know you're just stalling to make this conversation last longer. You don't want to hang up. He doesn't want to either.
He finally speaks up, "Can I see you later? I have to meet with the guys and security and some other people about the break-in but maybe after that? Lunch?"
You smile softly and nod, "I get my lunch break at 12:30, is that good?"
"Yes," you can hear the excited smile in his voice, "I'm craving a BLT."
"You wanna meet at the diner?"
The plans are made, and finally you hang up and get to driving, all with his face and voice lingering in the back of your mind. At work you daydream about him, and the hours seem to pass impossibly slow. How is 60 seconds the longest period of time ever?
Then, finally, you get off for your break, the first one in the elevator, the first out of the building, and the first at the diner. You grab a table for you and Jake, one at the window so you can wave to him when he gets there, and you wait as patiently as possible, gazing out into the parking lot.
Only, five minutes ticks to ten, then fifteen, and the server keeps coming over to ask if you're ready.
"Um, just a few more minutes please. Sorry."
You check your phone, but there's no text from him. You call, and it goes to voicemail. You text and receive no response. Your break is almost over when you finally hear from him.
Cant make it today
You slouch in your seat, rereading it over and over, waiting for a second text. An explanation, a reschedule, an apology. Worry blooms inside of you. Did something happen? Is he okay? Did I do something wrong? Does he not like me?
Okay! No worries!
Hope everything is fine
He doesn't reply.
When the server comes back around you order your sandwich, and you end up taking it to-go. It sits untouched in the box, growing soggy, and you return to your desk, still just as distracted as before, only differently now.
He told you he had to meet with the others about the break-in. This isn't about you, you tell yourself that. You did nothing wrong, or did you?
Did you move too fast? Was he bothered by the pictures? Was he annoyed by you? After all, he spent the entire weekend with you...
I need to get out of my head.
Finally you get off and head straight home, still without a text from Jake. Your fingers itch to text Sam, to ask how his day is going, but you hold yourself back. They're busy, I shouldn't bother them.
Once back at your apartment, you slip inside and kick off your shoes, unbuttoning your blouse as you swiftly move to the kitchen, pulling out a wine glass. Normally you don't do this, normally wine nights are reserved for later in the week. You almost feel ashamed for pouring yourself a glass on a Monday evening, but fuck you got stood up at lunch today. By Jake. Your... friend?
A bath is what you need. With lavender Epsom salts and candles lit for lighting. Oh and a book, preferably a steamy romance. That's how you find yourself, warm in the tub, nose deep in a hardcover and rather tipsy. And at first it helps. You're relaxed, flipping the pages as you breeze through the first few chapters as you sip away.
However, now, you're barely reading the words at this point, every word spells out J-A-K-E it seems.
"Jake Jake Jake Jake, Jake." Said Jake.
Wait, did I read that right?
Shortly after, you give up on the book, altogether, tossing it aside and sinking lower into the water. Lower lower lower, contemplating dunking your head under when your chin taps the surface of it. You swirl your finger in the water, watching the suds float in a circle, and then you swirl the letters of his name in the water.
Is he even thinking of you? Why are you thinking of him then?
Oh dear, what am I doing?
You sit up, noticing your pruned fingertips and decide you've been in here for far too long. Trapped in the tub with the memory of Jake isn't a clever idea after all.
Tying your robe to your body, you drain the tub and blow out the candles, abandoning your book but not your wine glass. Another round won't hurt. You pass your foggy mirror, catching your glossy eyes and rosy cheeks.
In all honesty, you hate that you feel so lonely. You hate that everything is too quiet now that Jake isn't beside you to hum random tunes or whisper jokes to you. You want to hold his hand as you sit on the couch. Listen to him strum guitar. Go out to the city with him, catch a random bands gig at the bar.
You don't recognize the girl in the mirror. You haven't seen her like this in quite a while. Hopelessly love struck. And nearly drunk.
A flash of embarrassment takes ahold of you, but you brush it off, fetching another glass.
Before you know it, you're on the couch renting Elf and laughing your ass off.
"Have you heard from Y/N lately?"
Sam raises his head from the keys and looks over at his older brother.
"Oh, you mean my friend you stole?" He lifts an eyebrow at him, playing a few chords lightly.
He rolls his eyes, "I guess that means no."
"No I haven't heard from her in a bit," he sighs, removing his fingers from the piano. His annoyance fades into concern as he stands and steps to Jake, "why? Have you?"
Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He'd understand if you're mad, but he figured if you're mad, you'd let him know. Right?
Sam pulls out his phone.
"What're you doing?"
"Calling her up." He lifts it to his ear.
"Don't bother her." Jake stands and moves to him.
"What could she possibly be doing right now that I would interrupt-?" He silences, his mouth hooking upward in a lopsided smile at the sound of your hiccupping voice, "Hey! Are you... drunk?"
Jake moves closer to get a chance at hearing your voice.
"Yep!" You chirp back with a giggle, now watching Home Alone. In July.
Sam shakes his head at you, smirking at Jake then saying, "I'm here with Jake. Why don't you talk to him for a bit while I get my shoes on?"
"Shoes-?" Jake frowns shaking his head at the phone, "No, Sam-"
"Oh, I don't wanna talk to him..." you huff with a frown, and your furrow deepens when you hear him speak into the receiver. Sourly, you reply, "Hi."
"You've been having a fun night?" He cracks a light joke, watching Sam leave the room for his shoes.
"You stood me up today," you grumble, "I didn't know what happened, I was worried."
"I'm sorry," he speaks soft and earnestly, "we got caught up at the studio. Police reports, assessing damage, the cost of it all..."
"Next time don't make promises you can't keep." You snap, your lower lip trembling, "I thought you missed me."
"I do!" He breathes out a laugh, "I hope you understand."
"I miss you too." You whisper back.
Lovesick puppies, that's what you both are.
"Can you come over?" You ask, "Please?"
He chews on his lower lip when Sam reenters the room, glancing at him. He doesn't know what to say, what to do. How would it look to Sam for him to leave and head over to yours, especially this late at night? It would surely blow the cover.
"I..." he can't find an explanation, an excuse, or an apology.
"Jake?" You curl your legs up beside you on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you
"I can't." Is all he says before handing Sam's phone back to him and exiting down the hall, to the bathroom where he locks the door and splashes cold water on his face.
When Sam talks to you, it's muffled. It sounds like all the blood has rushed to your ears, you're so upset, so hurt, so confused. Robotic, one-word replies are what you offer back to him, and after enough time, the phone call ends and you hang up, staring blankly at the screen.
There comes a time when all that is left to help is sleeping, and that's what you end up doing. Trudging back to your bedroom and crawling beneath the bed sheets.
Jake too called it a night with Sam, quietly ushering him out of his house so he could spend a night alone in his despair. I'm doing this to myself, he thinks to himself, I'm doing this to her. She doesn't deserve this. So, in a flash of courage, he grabs his phone and calls you.
And you see your phone go off, you read the contact's name, and instead of doing what your heart wants, what he wants, you send it to voicemail. You don't deserve this.
For some reason you told yourself you'd wake up and feel different. You'd have a clear head and fresh thoughts, that in your sleep you would have forgiven Jake and moved on. It helped lull you to sleep. Thinking he would feel the same when he woke up. That he maybe would have shown up on your doorstep with flowers or coffee and an apologetic smile.
You're so naĂŻve.
When you wake up, your head is cloudy, all with yesterday memories looming. The morning call, the diner, the wine, and the evening phone call that left you clinging to your pillow and hot with anger. And all that causes a dull ache in your brain. It doesn't help that you're running late yet again this morning.
So you zip around getting ready. While doing so you think back to last night.
Why couldn't he come to see you? Why was he acting so ashamed? Why does this have to be a secret? You didn't understand. You and Jake are friends- wait no we aren't.
"I can't do this." You huff to yourself, rushing out the door, shoes in hand. Locking up, you walk down the path until- "Shit! Sam!"
"Sorry!" He raises his hands up in surrender, looking you over, "Um, good morning?"
"I'm running late to work." You grumble, walking past him and opening your car door and tossing your things inside before slipping your shoes on, "Why are you at my house at 8 in the morning?"
"Wanted to see how bad the hangover is." He smirks, then steps forward with a to-go coffee cup, "I guess not too bad since you're yelling at me."
"I'm not yelling I'm just-" you take a deep breath, looking at the cup then up to him with apologetic eyes, "sorry.
"Take the damn coffee." You follow his instruction, "Now go to work."
"Do you want to do something later?" You ask.
"I've got something this evening," he waves off your offer, "but remember, Saturday. We're all going out." He points at you, and you nod as you watch him head down to his car, "And you better be there with Jake-"
"Oh god..." you bring a hand up to your forehead and shake your head, forgetting all about that stupid plan. Just the sound of his name makes you nauseous.
Sam's brows lift and he scoffs, "Yeah, that's not helping your claim to friendship."
"We are friends, we're just," you nibble on your bottom lip as you search your head for the right word, "in the middle of a tiff."
"A tiff?" He leans forward, as if he's misheard, staring right at you in bewilderment. "Over what?"
You simply don't answer, because, "I have to go to work." Also, because there's no tiff. There's been a rift. A crack in the foundation that's frankly been shaky from the start.
"He was worried about you last night, you know." Sam says, making your eyes flit up to his face. He watches you closely as he continues, "Hadn't heard from you in a while, that's why I called." Your eyes lower as he talks, "I don't know what you said to him, or what he said to you, but he seemed upset afterwards."
You let out a discreet sigh. He's upset, so you're upset. But you're also upset because what is going on? Why does this all have to be so complicated? Why can't he just love you for everyone to see?
He loves you, right? He's falling, he told you. And if he hasn't fallen completely in love yet, he's well on his way. Or at least he was.
You ignore the pang in your heart and look up to Sam again, trying to think of a response.
"Also," he tilts his head to the side, "I looked up the convention Jake said he was going to." You hold your breath, "The same weekend you went out of town too." His lips upturn at the corners, "Funny how that convention ceased to exist."
Fuck.
"I..." you're at a loss for words, caught red handed, and it's not even worth it because Jake isn't by your side. This isn't how you wanted to be caught, did you ever want to be caught to begin with? You realize that yes, you wanted to be caught so bad this entire time, if only Jake wasn't so embarrassed of this. That's what it is to him, embarrassing. "Sam, I have work."
"Yes, you do." He hums knowingly, leaving it at that. There's nothing more to say. Your timidity confirms everything for him.
"See you," you turn away, red faced, saying to him over your shoulder, "thanks for the coffee."
"Saturday! Don't forget it!" He tells you one last time before you both get in your cars.
And just like the day before, you're at your desk thinking about him. You wish you weren't. You wish there were someone, something, anything else you could focus your mind on. Like the tasks you're supposed to be completing for your job, but you can't. Typing seems to be extremely difficult today, reading and sending emails is overly complicated, the simplest of assignments leaving you compromised.
But luckily, somehow, some way, you survive Tuesday, then you manage Wednesday. Thursday goes by and Friday, finally, you feel free. Then you wake up the next morning, and to greet you is a text from your friend.
See you tonight?
Clenching your teeth this early cannot be good for your dental health, and a text from Jake this early cannot be good for your mental health, so instead of sending a nasty reply, you turn off your phone and toss it away from yourself. He doesn't get an answer. He probably only wants to go over the "plan".
Fuck the plan. Fuck all of it actually.
We are not friends Jake Kiszka.
In fact, we never have been.
You manage through the day, distracting yourself by making breakfast then tidying around, going for a walk, and picking up a book you haven't touched in a while. Every little thing you can do to keep your mind off of you-know-who, you do it. And the morning leaks into afternoon, which becomes evening, and then you're trapped getting ready for the bar.
Standing in the mirror you contemplate it. Yes, you could produce an excuse, back out of tonight and stay home where you can avoid Jake Kiszka without even trying. But then, that would be like losing. You want to show up, and you want him to regret all he did. Of course, you don't want to try too hard, and of course you end up overthinking that as you look over yourself. Ending up swapping your shirt several times before settling, then changing out your earrings, then your boots.
You're stalling, and you know you are, and you can't help it.
The question is, do you really want to do this? Tonight, do you want to do this? Show up to an outing the same way you did months ago and glare at him from across the room, avoid him for the night? Is that how you really want to spend your evening?
Then again, do you really want to forgive him? Do you want to just pretend with him forever and hide from everyone what really is going on? Do you even have a choice?
He's ignored you for the past three days.
You can't imagine Jake is having this much trouble getting ready for tonight, so you force yourself out the door and to the bar. If he doesn't care, then why should you? Just because he was worried that one night with Sam doesn't mean it's eating him alive like it is with you.
Just pretend that weekend at the cabin never happened, pretend that kiss, confession, night, drive back home and the night following didn't happen. It didn't happen.
You blast Joan Jett on the way to the bar, aiding in your much needed confidence boost, and when you strut into the bar, all eyes seem to land on you. Normally you would shy away, but right now you love it. This entire week you've lacked attention from a certain someone, so whoever is willing to give you some, you'll take. You flash a sweet smile to a few guys who watch you make your way to the bar, and immediately you order a drink. If Jake's coming by, you know you'll need at least two, and maybe a shot for good measure.
"Look who made it." Sam slings his arm over your shoulders, and you lean into him, snaking your own around his waist. "You beat your friend here."
The mention of Jake leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but luckily the bartender brings your margarita back around so you can wash it off your tongue.
Turning to him with a smile, you ask, "Where are the others?"
He smiles back, "We got a booth. Follow me."
Sam leads the way through the decent crowd, you know it'll only grow as the night carries on. When you reach the table, you're greeted with big grins from everyone who came out tonight. Danny's eyebrows raise at you, a lopsided smile twitching into his lips, and Josh stands to approach you.
Your name comes out with a low whistle from him as he stands in front of you, "You look stunning, dear," he looks you over, his eyes flicker up to yours, brow lifted, "love that look on you."
He's referring to the smoky eye makeup you decided on for the night.
"Yeah," Sam agrees, sipping his can of beer, "like... you look like if 'don't fuck with me' was a person."
Josh nods, "Mhm, very Princess Diana revenge dress-esque."
That makes you tip your head back laughing, and when you catch your breath you nod, "That is exactly what I was going for!"
Josh grins and raises his brows, "Really? Who are you plotting revenge against then?"
You open your mouth for a quick, witty rebuttal. But nothing comes out because a familiar hand pulls you in for a warm side hug. Looking up, you catch the long hair, and that damn hat that you now find so stupid, and his sunglasses, on inside, and you want nothing more than to push him away from you. But he's holding you, and not letting go, lifting his hand that's holding a bottle of beer and waving to the group with his fourth and pinky fingers.
You can't help but settle into his side, but you don't hug him back. Your brain is in a battle with your heart. Hug him back, or remain strong?
Remember the more you try, the less he cares?
You keep your hands to yourself and look down at your drink, stirring the straw.
"Hey," he smiles with all his perfect teeth, "what did I miss?"
"Not much," Josh tries to hide his astonishment. Sam isn't as good of an actor as his eldest brother though and can't stop staring at where you and Jake touch. However, both notice a sense of tension, which throws them off a little.
He nods at him then looks down at you, "How'd the meeting go?"
Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, and you're about to ask what meeting? but then you see what he's doing. He's putting on a show for everyone, trying to make this look real. Like he keeps up with and cares about you, like how he used to before the trip. And you're meant to play along.
"Fine," you scoff, detaching yourself from him, "it was fine."
Jake looks down at you, and despite his sunglasses covering his eyes, you know there's a sense of sternness in them. It's the way he holds his mouth tense, the way he tilts his head just slightly to the right. He's wanting you to play along with him, but also expecting you to put up a fight.
He stalls for a moment, unsure of what to say next, how to make this look natural. With your resistance, it won't be easy. You both can feel their eyes on you, and when you glance over, you suddenly remember Sam bringing you coffee that morning.
It's impossible to pretend to be friends with Jake in front of him, since he already has an idea of what is really going on. It's impossible to pretend after what happened.
"You want a drink?" Jake asks, to which you lift a brow at and hold up the cup you have been holding for the past 15 minutes. He nods at it in acknowledgment, the space growing incredibly awkward.
Things would probably be so much easier if you just gave in if you cooperated.
What's the point though? What's the point of any of this?
"Hey!" Danny speaks up as he stands and approaches Jake, "I believe you owe me a rematch at the pool table."
"A rematch?" Jake removes his sunglasses and hands them on the collar of his shirt, "You couldn't handle losing the first time?"
In any other circumstance this would make you smirk, you'd find their gentle banter entertaining, but now it only irritates you. The two end up heading over to the pool table, leaving just you, Sam, and Josh.
Sam speaks up first, "Still having that tiff?"
You swallow, looking between him and Josh. Does Josh know about the fake convention too? You wish you could just ask...
You meet Sam's eyes, "I guess so."
"What tiff?" Josh asks.
"It's nothing we just..." you glance over at Jake and Danny, your heart aching at the sight of him laughing and smiling. How is so easy for him to be happy right now? Does he not feel this slightest bit or regret? Sadness? "There was some miscommunication."
"What happened?" He asks.
You look back, taking a deep breath, "We were supposed to grab lunch on Monday, but he didn't show up."
Josh's jaw drops and Sam's eyebrows raise.
"He stood you up?" Sam guffaws.
You roll your eyes at the memory, how heartbroken you felt that entire day, "I don't really care, okay? I just want an apology."
You hate how much control he has over your feelings and emotions; how different this has caused you to become. Jake has changed you entirely, in so many different ways over the course of these months.
Josh glances back at Jake, then to you, "I'll make him apologize right now, if you want."
Finally, a weak smile breaks on your lips, and you shake your head, declining his offer, "That's not necessary. Thank you though."
Jake from his place across the way spots your smile just as he goes to shoot the cue, his arm slipping causing him to scratch. Danny let's out a boisterous laugh at his mistake and Jake shakes his head as he stands up straight again, tearing his eyes away from you. He can't help but look back at you though, watching you talk with his brothers, how they make you laugh softly, how you make them smile back. You look so relaxed, nothing like how you looked when he was by your side.
His stomach drops. He hasn't made you smile like that since-
"Jake, come on man." Danny nudges him with his elbow, letting him know it's his turn.
"Sorry," he mumbles, moving around the table to line up his next shot, shaking the memories of you from his head.
Tonight we are just friends.
So it doesn't matter that you're laughing with someone else. It doesn't matter that he doesn't address the elephant in the room. It doesn't matter that you've begun to wander the crowd. It doesn't matter that he is acting this way. And it certainly doesn't matter that you're leant against a table, shamelessly flirting with a stranger just for the hell of it.
Because you are just friends.
"Dude, you are so distracted." Danny chuckles as he sinks another ball, down to his last one before the eight ball.
It's because you're perfectly in his line of sight, and he can see you lean into the guy across from you. How you laugh and lick your lips and bat your lashes. When you reach across to brush his elbow and bite your lip. This shouldn't matter, so why does he feel so pissed?
Danny sinks another, and then calls the pocket for the eight ball, winning the game. They analyze the felt green table, half of the stripes Jake called still lying there. Danny looks over to Jake, unsure if he should celebrate his victory or not. This seems to have been an unfair match.
"Well done, Daniel," he offers his hand for a shake, letting Danny take the win.
Danny stares at him with an inquisitive look, ignoring his extended hand and replying, "What's going on? Something's off."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Jake replies with a light chuckle, trying his best to seem natural. Danny continues to stare at him as he takes a sip of his beer. After he swallows, he shrugs and shakes his head, "It's the break-in, I'm still... assessing it all. That's it."
It was a fairly good excuse, and not necessarily a lie. However, the weight of this distraction comes heavily from you. It takes everything in him not to look over at you and the stranger, he can see you from the corner of his eye.
Danny shrugs it off, not entirely sold, and turns to set the pool table again for whoever plays next. That's when Jake glances over at you, and, albeit, he shouldn't have, because he catches sight of you right when the guy leans down to brush your hair back and whisper something in your ear. Something that makes your lips spread into a smile and a giggle break from your chest, makes you lean into his voice.
Jake abandons the pool stick, taking long strides towards you. His feet move before he can think, he doesn't know what he's going to say or do when he reaches you, but he knows he's going to put a stop to whatever is happening.
You're startled by Jake's presence when you pull away from the guy you've just met, and he frowns when he looks down at Jake, who is ignoring him completely, his eyes are only on you.
"Hey," he breathes out, "can we talk?"
"Jake," your eyebrows pull together as you shake your head and glance at the stranger before stating the obvious, "I'm already talking to someone right now."
He glances at him, offering a curt nod of acknowledgment, "Hi," is all he says before looking to you again, "please, Y/N. I need to talk to you."
"Listen, man, we're talking right now and if she doesn't want to, she doesn't have to."
Jake ignores him, looking only at you, "I know what you're playing at."
"And what's that?" You narrow your eyes with a devilish smirk. It's working him up, it's exactly what you wanted to happen. The less you care, the more he does. How convenient. "It's only payback, Jacob."
His lower lip drops, his chest rising and falling quicker, eyes blazing.
"We are supposed to be-"
"Friends?" You finish his sentence.
He shuts his mouth with the clench of his jaw, biting his tongue. He's afraid he'll say something he'll regret.
Neither of you have felt this way in a while. That feeling you felt right at the end of May, when you and Jake were still indifferent. When you despised each other and couldn't stand being in the same room, couldn't talk to each other not even for a second. That feeling comes rushing back, and neither of you like it, but its familiarity is hot, and you welcome it all the same.
The stranger grows confused and uncomfortable with the situation, swiftly abandoning you with Jake. Not that you care anyway. It doesn't really matter; you've elicited the reaction you wanted from Jake. Him coming over proves he cares, but just how much?
"I thought it was like you said," you lean in with darkened eyes, "we never really were friends."
He stands there silently, assessing the situation, trying to come up with a solution. This is not how tonight was supposed to go. Tonight was supposed to be the night where you proved your friendship to the others and then they'd finally leave you two alone. Tonight was supposed to put an end to the never-ending doubts and skepticism because you were friends this whole time.
But that trip to the mountains, that changed it all. If only it hadn't happened.
He shakes his head, "No, we aren't doing this. Not right now."
"What?" You hiss, your frown deepening.
"We can do this another time, okay? Tonight we are here to prove something, and you aren't cooperating." He says, glancing back at your group then to you, "Work with me."
"Why should I?" You scoff, turning away from him and beginning to walk in the direction of the doors, "You don't deserve my cooperation, my friendship, none of it. You don't deserve me."
He follows you, "Don't go."
"Stop following me," you stop and glare at him, "I'm leaving, okay? I will not play this game of pretend with you just to please everyone else. I won't "prove" our "friendship" that never existed in the first place."
You storm off, past the doors and out into the parking lot. Jake glances back at the booth, locking eyes with his brothers who stare back at him with shock. They couldn't hear either of you, but they know an argument is brewing. Sam's eyes tell him to stay, Josh's are demanding him to follow. He turns away and rushes out of the bar.
"Y/N!" He calls after you as you quickly walk through the lot, "Y/N, please stop. What're you doing?"
"What am I doing!?" You halt and spin to face him, face flushed with anger, "What are you doing? Pulling me in like you care about me then spitting me out and ignoring me for days!"
"It was not on purpose, okay, the break-in-"
"Is just so convenient for you because that's your excuse to just forget about me now." You scoff, crossing your arms, "That's all you wanted, huh? To trick me into getting in bed with you, making me fall for you so you could have a quick fuck. Do you get off one breaking every girl's heart, Jake?"
His eyes blaze, "I'm sorry, I don't find stolen equipment and instruments rather convenient." He steps towards you, "Don't dismiss that. Don't act like I'm doing this on purpose, like I planned for that to happen."
"Then what the fuck was that in there?" You stomp your foot in frustration and point back at the building, "Why are you so fucking ashamed of me? Why do I have to pretend I'm your friend when you said-"
"Because!" He cuts you off, then shuts his mouth, taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes. You let him calm himself down, even though he doesn't deserve it. You should just walk away, but you are eager to hear what he has to say for himself. You want to know what the next excuse will be. "Because I'm not ready."
"Ready for what?" You demand an answer, staring him down.
His eyes lower to the ground like a shameful child, and he remains quiet. You patiently wait for his answer.
"This," he says, then, "us." He raises his eyes to meet yours, a pleading look in them as he steps forward and says, "Just give me a little longer, okay? Let the album release and the tour start and I promise-"
"I don't believe you." You shake your head. "You've proven nothing to me other than the fact that you'll never be ready. That you'll keep me waiting, time and time again. I don't deserve that, Jake." You turn and continue walking.
"What are you doing?" He asks, irritation coloring his question, "Seriously? What is this?"
"What is this?" You frown, stepping forward with a stomp of your foot, "I don't know! You tell me! What is this, Jake?"
He turns his head and looks away, taking a deep breath, seeming to gather his thoughts. But he never replies, just stands there. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to reply.
"I texted you, and you didn't respond till today, and you ignored all that I said." You speak calm and evenly, "You don't get to show up when you want, you don't get to tell me how to act so I can help you prove something to your brothers, okay? I don't want to pretend like we're just friends, because we aren't, and you fucking know that."
"I'm not... ready for this." He weakly repeats what he told you earlier, as if now it'll change your mind.
Your stare hardens, and when your vision grows blurry with tears, you start to laugh. He looks up at you with a frown as you laugh, clapping your hands while you take a step back, creating some space between you two.
"I should have known." You shake your head. "I mean, it's obvious. You only flirted with me for months and took me to that cabin and confessed your feelings just to not be ready for this." You step back, lowering your voice and looking him dead in the eyes, "People normally don't do those things when they aren't ready."
"Y/N-"
"You tricked me." You choke out, cutting him off because you don't care about what he has to say now. "Was that what it was for you? Did you just-" you cut yourself off with thick, hurt laughter, then continue, "did you see me as some sort of... of... challenge? Something that you could check off and complete for your own personal satisfaction?"
He shakes his head, slowly moving to you, "No, no Y/N."
"Oh yeah, sure," you nod still laughing sarcastically with tears choking you, "get the girl who hates you to fall for you just so you can break her fucking heart. Classic."
"It wasn't like that at all, Y/N." He shakes his head, "I really like you."
"But you're embarrassed of me, after everything we did. You made me keep it all a secret with you because you're ashamed."
"I am not ashamed."
"Then why do you act like it?"
"I don't-" he lets out a breath of defeat, shaking his head at himself, "I don't know."
"I wanted to tell everyone, I was ready, and you just ignored me."
"Why do we have to tell people?" His eyes narrow as he frowns, "I mean, it's not that serious anyway, is it?"
Your heart chips
"What?" Your voice cracks, "I don't know..." Your thoughts are scrambled now because you certainly weren't expecting that. You feel numb, completely. You gave yourself to him that night, you were vulnerable, and he saw you like that. Touched you, held you, kissed you. Loved you. Right?
Have you been reading this all wrong? The whole time? Has all of this just been for fun for him?
"Just tell me what your intentions were, and I won't ask you again." You say, tears threatening to spill over, "Just tell me and I won't bother you anymore."
"I don't know." He breathes out.
"Jake-"
"I said I don't know, Y/N."
You stand there silently, looking at him. It was pitiful, all of it. The way he can't even look up at you, just keeps his head lowered in shame. He should be ashamed, but it hurts that he won't acknowledge you, acknowledge what happened between you two.
And what hurts the most is that he doesn't have an answer for you. He just doesn't know.
"You don't know what any of this was the whole time?" You frown, feeling a hot, single tear slip down your cheek to your chin. "Because I thought it was real."
"It was." He finally meets your eyes.
"No it wasn't," you scoff, "because if it was you would fucking care about it."
"No, you can't say that." He shakes his head at you.
"It's true! You just slept with me and dropped me off, forgot about me like I was nothing." You shake your head and turn, "You don't care about me."
"I don't?" He laughs bitterly, rubbing a palm over his face and turning away, like he's about to walk off. Then he quickly turns back, "Who took care of you that night you got shitfaced then, huh? Or, let you in their car when it was pouring rain?" He starts pacing back in forth in an effort to keep his intense emotions at bay, but can't, and he blurts, "Who drove to your place after that party to make sure you got home okay? Not just because Sam was worried sick, but because I was worried too."
You stare at him, brow tensed but eyes softened. His gaze drops, embarrassed by his sudden confession.
"You did what?"
"Because I fucking care about you, Y/N, okay?" He sighs looking up at you with hurt expression. His broken voice punches you in the gut when he tells you, "I love you."
You freeze at the sound of those three words.
You want to say it back so badly, all you want to do is rush back to him and have him take you in his arms. This shouldn't be how he tells you. It should be during a tender moment of love, when you aren't arguing out in a bar parking lot. But he's said it, and instead of feeling elated, you feel sick to the stomach.
"No. No you don't." You mumble, turning around and beginning to walk away.
He grows hot, taking a step forward, "I have a lot going on at the moment you know." You bite your tongue, continuing forward until he spits out, "And if you really cared you would work with me here, Y/N."
You stop in your tracks, your jaw dropping and your heart racing. Gritting your teeth you turn back around, speaking without thinking, "I hate-" you cut yourself off, voice coming to a complete halt as you stare at him wide eyed. It nearly slipped, and you can't believe it because you didn't even think about it. It just came out.
You don't, you never have, and yet here you are. Now, after everything, now is when it's true. Because you learned him just as he learned you, and now that closeness has been ripped away, and you wish you never even studied an inch of Jake Kiszka. You wish you'd never agreed to go out with him or sleep in his bed, even though at the time that's all you wanted.
"Say it," he spits out at you, voice like venom, "say it like you really mean it, Y/N."
His voice, his face, his eyes, you don't recognize any of them. It makes it all the easier for you.
"I fucking hate you."
âż âż âż
Cue the sad Hannah Montana musicâŠ
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
Itâs the way that she writes like nothing Iâve ever seen. Thereâs no reason I should be crying over a fic like this????? Everything is so tender and realistic and for once I feel like I could be YN lol anyway Iâm an emotional wreck
Warnings: Cursin', Smokin', Drinkin', Allusions to Drug Use. Angst: Struggle and Poverty, Emotional Manipulation, Cheating, Abandonment, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Mentions of Death, Allusions to Suicide, Allusions to Shady Activities. Smut: Kissing, Allusions to Sex.
Valor Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify
A new project in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.
HER POV
You could hardly see out the back window, your entire life piled up to the roof of the car. You were thankful on days like today, that you had a car big enough to fit it all. Your every worldly possession, reduced down to a handful of boxes and trash bags, now occupying your backseat. You shifted into reverse and turned your body to look out the back window of your old â73 Scout. Your eyes peeked through the visible sliver of the rear window, but not before catching sight of the dress you were slated to wear just 3 months from now. That, however, was the reason you were packed into this car in the first place.Â
âGo ahead and try to leave. Youâll be back when you realize Iâm as good as it gets for you.â his words still echoing through your head as if they were being played through a loudspeaker. âYou need me. You have nothing without me. Youâll never make it on your own.â And thatâs exactly what he wanted you to believe. Heâd told you that so often you wondered if it was himself he was trying to convince instead of you.Â
You were set to marry Peter the second week of July. The plans were made, invitations sent. But as you stopped by his office to deliver his plate lunch, what youâd walked in on was not the scene of a man ready to be greeted by his soon to be wife. No, it was a very different scene, straight from one of those Playboy magazines you could buy at the Quik-Stop on Douglas.
You can still hear the sound of the ceramic plate shattering against the terrazzo floors. The gasp of air that left the lips of his new bookkeeper, sprawled out across his desk. You can remember the way the peas scattered across the floor in every direction and the way they felt smashing under your shoes as you fled his office.Â
You waited for him to come home that night. Your things were already packed away in bags and boxes by the time he finally meandered through the front door of the apartment. Then came the excuses. The begging and pleading that quickly turned vicious and accusatory. The âmaybe if you put out more, I wouldnât have had to look elsewhereâ lines, that you knew to be a load of shit. You knew Peter wasnât one to shy away from clearing his conscience at someone else's expense. Your mind was made up before he ever came home. You knew you couldnât stay here, not with him. Not after this.Â
You arenât sure why you brought the dress with you. You could have easily left it at your mothers, letting it hang in her guest room closet to collect dust and rot until the end of time. But you didnât, you knew that bringing it would give you that reminder of why you were leaving. So with fifteen dollars of gas in the tank, and your Bruce Springsteen 8-track, you and your things began the trek towards Atlanta, ready to start again. Ready to live a life uninhibited. Ready to find an adventure.Â
â
The chorus of âState Trooperâ played through the fuzzy car speakers as you popped a cinnamon hard candy into your mouth. Your eyes caught sight of the welcome sign as you crossed the Iowa-Missouri border in a blur. It had been quite a few years since youâd been back to Missouri. Actually, you hadnât visited since your family moved in the third grade. It was an abrupt move, your parents pulling you from school midway through the year with little to no explanation. You were placed in the back of your parents' Taurus and the life that you had known flashed by in a matter of the five minutes it took to make your way from one side of town to the other. You liked Iowa though. You made friends there, had a life and were active in school extracurriculars. Itâs where you met Peter, and fell in love, though now that part didnât exactly fit the narrative of your happy story.Â
As the song began to fade out into the next track, you heard it. The metallic grinding beneath the hood. The hell is that? You spun the volume knob down to zero, listening again for the noise, wondering if maybe you had just run over something on the freeway. As you passed mile marker 22 you heard it again, louder. Whatever it was had your heart pounding in your chest. You didnât know the first thing about cars, definitely not enough to fix anything. Then it became more frequent. Persistent. Something was really wrong.Â
In a panic you pulled off the road into the overgrown grass of the shoulder, pulling out your roadmap and unfolding it across the steering wheel. You tried to get a sense of your surroundings, knowing youâd crossed the border not too long ago. You pinpoint your location in search of the next town youâd come across in what you knew to be a collection of nearly abandoned mining towns. A bead of sweat collected on your forehead, the wind dying down as the sun began to set. The impending darkness adds another factor of stress to an already stressful situation. As your finger traced a line up the interstate, you saw the familiar name. The place just on your mind mere minutes ago. You donât remember too much about Joslyn, but what you do remember of it, is that there was an auto repair shop, and you were in desperate need if you were going to make it to Atlanta. With an estimated thirty miles to Joslyn from your current spot, you started your car back up, and pulled back out onto the road, praying you would make it there without doing anymore damage.Â
The metallic noise seemed to stay consistent, but with every mile that passed you knew the dollar signs were adding up. Of course you took the money stashed away for the wedding, he didnât get to keep that. Why should he? Consider it severance. However, car repairs was not how you wanted to spend that money. You planned to use it for a deposit and first month's rent on an apartment, hoping it would be enough to tide you over until you found a job.Â
You knew you had plenty of useful skills, you were near the top of your class in school. You planned to work with Peter at the accounting firm after you married, and you hoped youâd be able to find a similar position in your new city. You were snapped from your daydreams as you saw the sign welcoming you to Joslyn, however, the old decrepit sign, about twenty years past needing to be replaced, sent a cold chill down your spine. The way it barely hung on to the wooden stakes made you feel anything but welcome, and your instincts told you to turn back. As you limped your car further into town, you realized that the vibrant city you left all those years ago had been in steady decline ever since. Homes abandoned and pillaged, with broken windows and spray painted siding. Cars sat deteriorating in driveways that were barely visibly under the overgrown grass and trees. You had no sense of âhomeâ despite this being the town you were born in. You barely recognized it, until you saw Louieâs.Â
Knowing you would find answers there, you pulled into an empty parking space, almost afraid to pull the key from the ignition, wondering if it would turn on again when you got back inside. You grabbed your fringed purse from the passenger seat, and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head as you jumped down from the driver's seat. The gravel crunched beneath your feet as you walked towards the front door of the diner, seeing a few older patrons lining the bartop and scattered through a few booths through the large windows.Â
The bell rang as you pulled the door open, alerting everyone of your presence. Ten heads turned to look at you all at once, and suddenly you felt like a spectacle as you stood there in your halter top and waist hugging jeans.Â
âTake a seat anywhere yaâd like, hun.â a lady in a pink apron called out from across the room. Her voice was gruff and far deeper than it should be for a lady, you thought. You made your way towards an empty bar stool, leaving a space between you and an older man in a newsboy cap, sliding his fork through a piece of cherry pie. You gave him a curt smile as you settled on the stool and placed your bag on the counter. It smelled good, and you felt a small rumble in your stomach as you watched plates being sent to the window. If youâd had more time youâd probably enjoy a late lunch, but you didnât, so you couldnât.
The same woman approached you, handing you a laminated menu and gesturing a coffee cup towards you in silent question. You nodded your head and smiled, placing the menu down on the counter.Â
âWhatâll ya have, sugarâŠâ she asked, pouring coffee into your mug from the yellow stained carafe.Â
âOh, Iâm great with just the coffee for now, thank you.â you responded, seeing her eyes rake over you with curiosity.Â
âJust passinâ through?â she asks, placing the carafe back on the counter.Â
âSort of. Iâm on my way to Georgia, but I think I need a mechanic to look at my car. Started knocking when I hit the border. This was the first town I thought might have one.â you answer.Â
The ladyâs eyes flash over to the man next to you. He looks over at you and looks back at her giving her a slight nod. âYeah we got one.â he says, twisting his stool to face you. âYouâll have to try and get it down to Aceâs, well Jakeâs now I reckon. But he should be able to get ya fixed up.âÂ
âWould you be able to give me directions?â you ask, digging into your purse in search of a pen. You grab a paper napkin from the dispenser, and click the end of your pen on the countertop as he nods his head.Â
âYeah, so youâre gonna take a left out of the lot here, go down âbout 2 miles âer so, youâll see a Church of the Nazarene and take that left there. Go up that hill âbouta ânother mile and youâll see a dirt road on your right. His shopsâ at the end of the drive there. Can tell him Bubba sent âcha, and heâll help out a pretty lady Iâm sure of it.â
You quickly scribble down his directions, and toss the napkin and pen into your bag. âThank you. IâI really should be going, Itâll be dark soon and Iââ
âShould finish your cup there at least.â the lady says, leaning onto the counter. âYou sure youâre not from âround here, honey? You look awful familiar.â
âNot exactly.â you say, cutting the conversation short. You place a few dollars on the counter and grab your bag, âThank you. For the directions. I appreciate it.â you say, watching the man tip his hat to you as you make your way out of the diner and back to your car. Jumping into the front seat you send up a quick prayer that sheâll start and as you twist the key you hear the engine roar to life.Â
With the napkin sitting on your leg, you pulled out of the parking space heading further into town. The clock on the dash read 4:43, and you hoped youâd catch them before they closed up for the night. You saw the church he spoke of up in the distance, what was probably once a pristine white building, was now showing wear and tear with no one to fix it up. You took the left, the metallic clicking beneath the hood growing louder as you pressed forward on the gas pedal to climb the hill. With the windows down the sound was deafening, the cool breeze blowing through the window alleviated the sweat forming on your neck. In the dissipating sunlight you saw the orange dirt road and hesitantly turned to travel down its short path. A multitude of old abandoned cars littered the premises, and you wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one. You slowed your speed to a crawl, the clicking from your engine announcing your presence as you pulled closer towards the building.Â
Your headlights lit up the front of the building, an old gray sheet metal building, flash rust covering most of the sign that read âAceâs Garageâ. Two men in old rotted patio chairs stood slowly as you put the car in park. You shut off the engine and took a deep breath as you jumped out onto the dusty dirt road. Â
âHi, Iâm sorry, am I too late? I know itâs close to closing.â you murmured, stepping around to the front of the car. They both just stood there in their faded blue coveralls that looked like they hadnât had a washing in some time. The taller man had his unzipped and the sleeves tied around his waist. A dirty white t-shirt beneath concealed what seemed to be a plethora of ink adorning his body. Neither of them jumped to respond to you, and your eyes searched theirs for any sort of answer as the shorter man begrudgingly flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his dirty boot. âClosed at 4:30.â he says.
âShut up Jake. No. We heard you coming âbout a mile away.â the other, taller man said with a curt smile. His dark disheveled curls were tied up in a messy bun that hadnât been touched since he put it there this morning. Wisps of hair surrounded his head in a halo of sweaty dark strands. âDoesnât sound too good. Sounds like youâve got something going on under the hood.â
âIt just started doing it about an hour or so ago. Right after I crossed the border. Never heard it before, and I have a long trip ahead of me so I figured I should probably get it checked out.â you reply, twisting your hands around the strap of your purse.Â
âCould be a number of thingsâŠâ he pauses, stepping over towards your car. He places a grease covered hand on the hood of your baby blue Scout and turns to look at you. âThese Scouts are pretty good little cars, but they are notorious for having engine issues. Afraid to say you might be a victim of that. Though, maybe itâs just a bad wheel bearing.â
âNah.â the other man, who you now know as Jake, says suddenly, stepping forward slowly with his arms crossed across his chest. He doesnât say much, just places his hand under the hood and opens the latch. He steps up on the front bumper, and takes a look into the engine compartment, resting his tattoo covered hands on either side of the frame. After a few quiet minutes he steps down, and closes the hood staring at the taller man. âCollapsed lifter, but thatâs the least of her issues. Camshaft is fucked.â
âWhen did you say it started doing this?â the curly haired man asks.Â
âAbout an hour ago. I know itâs bad but, whatâs that mean?â you ask nervously.
âMeans you better call your husband to come pick you up.â Jake said, looking out towards the field in the distance.
âHusband?â you question, seeing his eyes travel to the diamond on your left finger. You quickly flip it around and look back to him. âOh, Iâm not married. I donât have a husband. I donât live here. I was just passing through.â
âShit place to get stranded.â he quips, turning on his heel and making his way towards the door of the car. He spits towards the ground as he pulls the door open and climbs inside.
âStranded?â you blurt out, catching the eyes of the taller man.Â
âDaniel, get her out of the fuckinâ way.â Jake says calmly, leaning his head out the window as he starts your car.
He grabs your arm and ushers you out of the way as Jake pulls your car forward into the empty bay beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights. He nods, motioning for you to follow him towards the garage, the air dusty as your tires kicked up dirt. The car shuts off and he jumps out, his boots making a loud thud as they land on the dirty concrete floors. As you follow Daniel into the garage he stops, placing his hands on his hips as he watches Jake lift the hood once more. This time, he grabs a ladder and a work light, hanging it from the inside of the hood. You look around at the garage, noticing the side you occupied was slightly more messy than the bay on the opposite side. Tools scattered about but in a way that you could tell they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
As you turned further you noticed a tan cover hanging loosely over a car parked between the two bays, you didnât pay much mind to it, as your brain was bouncing from object to object. Your eyes caught Jakeâs as he peered up from the engine compartment, quickly flicking them back down as he examined the condition of your motor. You let out a sigh and leaned backwards, resting your weight on the covered car. Daniel snapped his head in your direction seeing you before looking over at Jake. He quickly turned back to you, and pulled your arm to stand up again. âProbably donât want to lean on that one. Here, letâs go find you somewhere to sit.â he said, walking you further into the garage. You looked over to Jake again, seeing him concentrated on his task, a single strand of brown hair hanging long in his face.Â
You followed Daniel as he led you to a plaid nylon folding chair, similar to the ones they arose from earlier. The once white fabric was now a dingy, dirty gray, stained with oil and grease. He offered you a sorrowful smile as he gestured for you to sit. âThanks.â you squeaked, checking your wristwatch for the time.Â
Daniel walked back over towards the car, peering in as Jake inspected the damage. You watched his back muscles flex as he placed his hands on the open hood, his white t-shirt pulling tightly against his back. You could see the shadow of a dark image through the white cotton of his shirt, a large tattoo must be under there and you couldnât help but wonder what it was. It was almost as if he could feel your eyes on him as he turned around to meet your gaze as he continued talking to Jake. Jake turned around too, catching your sight and you knew that the news they were about to deliver was probably not what you wanted to hear.Â
Jake unhooked the work light, and closed the hood, stepping down off the ladder and wiping his hands on his coveralls. He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow as he looked over towards you again. They both began walking over towards you, stopping short as they reached you. You stood to meet them, watching as Jake shoved his hands in his pockets.
He was the first to speak, âI can fix it, but I will have to order the parts. Donât see too many of these come âround here.â
âOh, so itâs an easy fix? Good, maybe I wonât be here too long.â you said cheerfully.
âNo. I didnât say that.â he bites back. âI said, I can fix it.â
You furrow your brow at his harshness and turn to Daniel.Â
He rolls his eyes and looks at you, âWhat he is trying to say is that you need some major work done. We donât have the parts we needâ he needs, to be able to do it, so he will have to order them. Only problem is that the delivery truck only runs on the 15th of the month.â
You look down at your watch seeing the tiny â2â in the window. âAnd today is the secondâŠâ
âRight.â he says, kicking his shoe against the floor.Â
âI can call and order the parts tomorrow when the supplier opens, can give you a proper estimate then, but Iâm gonna warn you that this ainât no cheap fix.â Jake says, flicking his eyes up to yours. There is a smudge of grease on his cheek that catches the light. Your eyes travel down his face seeing a scattering of tattoos that decorate the side of his neck, disappearing down into the zipped coveralls.Â
âI have the money.â you sigh, fiddling with the strings on your purse.Â
Jake nods his head, âRight, well, see you tomorrow.â he says, turning to head towards a set of stairs at the side of the garage.Â
âJake. The fuckâŠâ Daniel shouts, causing Jake to stop and turn around.Â
âWhat.â he answers, slowly walking back towards you.Â
âWhat do you mean, what? Youâre gonna have to drive her down to Wandaâs.â he says, âI canât take her on the bike.â
âNo.â he says, far too quickly.
âJake, what else is she supposed to do?â he says, throwing his hands into the air.Â
âDunno. Figure it out I guess.â he scoffs, trying to retreat again, before Daniel grabs his arm.Â
âItâs Wandaâs or here. Make your choice.â Daniel growls.
âWhy do you care?â Jake barks back.
âHow about you quit being a prick for a minute? Youâre going to take this nice, paying customer down to the Motel, so that tomorrow she can come back and pay for those parts, and you can fix her car, hm?â he seethes into his ear.Â
Jake rips his arm from his grip, and walks over to the dirty, stained wall, snatching a set of keys from a hook. âFine. Letâs go.â
You scurry over to your car, attempting to grab the few things youâll need for a few nights stay at a motel, before quickly jumping down and looking around for Jake. You hear an engine roar to life outside the shop, seeing Danny pointing towards an old, Green Ford truck. His headlights flash on, practically blinding you as you start to walk towards them, turning to thank Daniel for his kindness as you run off towards your ride.Â
â
The ride to the motel was silent for the most part, the sound of the static coming across the radio the only noise filling the cab of the truck. You sat shotgun while Jake rested his wrist on the steering wheel of the old Ford, the sullied fingertips of his opposite hand rubbing across his unkempt mustache as he slowly made his way back through town.Â
âYou can ask me.â He finally spoke, his eyes dashing quickly back and forth from the rear view mirror and the road.Â
You cleared your throat, suddenly surprised he spoke. âAsk you what?â
âWhere you know me from. I can tell you wanna ask.â He answered, his voice only a tiny bit louder than the rumbling engine.Â
Damn, he was right. He did look familiar to you, and so did Daniel. But your mind was so frenzied with the anticipation of finding out what was wrong with your car, and then the news that the damage was far worse than you thought, that you pushed the thought far from your mind.Â
âI mean, you do kind of seemâŠâ
ââŠfamiliar? Yeah. I remember you.â He mumbled, his eyes still never traveling your way. âYou went to St. James Elementary, right?â
âYesâŠâ
âSo did we. Probably why you recognize us.â Jake turned the wheel a hard right, forgoing a blinker as he flicked his eyes to the rear view again.Â
Ah, that makes sense. You had started the first grade here many years ago, and made it to the third before your parents ripped you away and set off toward Iowa. But the more you thought about it, the more you remembered them. Both of them. But that was over twenty years ago, how the hell did he remember you now?
âShit, thatâs right.â You glanced to the floor, trying like hell to stretch your mind back to the tiny hallways lined with lockers, and the playground out back where many of your earliest memories were made. âI remember now, you were what, a year older than me?â
âYeah. Dannyâs a few years behind me.â Jake reached in his front pocket and pulled out his half-empty pack of Lucky Strikes, patting the box on the heel of his hand before he pushed the lighter into the dash, waiting for it to heat.Â
âSo wait, you were the one that climbed to the top of that old Sycamore that day at recessâŠcouldnât get back down when the bell rang so you jumped down and broke your armâŠâ your memory probably didnât serve you all the way right, but you couldnât have made up the tall-tale.Â
The lighter finally popped free, and Jake raised his left knee to steer the truck while he grabbed the handle, shielding the wind to light the butt of his cigarette. You watched as he inhaled, then cranked the window the rest of the way down to let the smoke filter through.Â
âI didnât climb all the way up. Just halfway. And I didnât jump, I fell.â He tapped his cigarette in the tray of the dash, not caring one bit that the residual ashes fell into the floorboard. You watched them flutter down before fizzling out completely.
You laughed at the memory, finding it hard to believe that youâd found yourself here again, remembering things about your childhood that you hadnât even come close to thinking about in years.Â
âIt wasnât funny.â Jake said stoically, puffing the cigarette again.Â
âSorry. No, it wasnât. But, I remember being glad you didnât get hurt worse than you did.â You replied, hoping to warm up his ice-cold composure.Â
âThis is you.â He mumbled as he pulled into the lot of the old motel, the truck lurching forward as he put it into park. You popped the door open and slid out of the old bench seat, slamming the door behind you as you rounded the side of the truck to grab your suitcase from the bed. Jake didnât get out of the truck or offer to help you with your bags, but after his less-than-happy attempt at making cordial conversation, you didnât expect anything less.Â
You perked back up to the open passenger window, seeing that Jakeâs eyes were still darting from side to side out the windows. Why was he so paranoid?Â
âThank you for the ride, I really appreciate it. Youâll let me know when the parts get ordered, and I can give you the cash?â You asked, really not knowing any other way to go about this.Â
He nodded his head, biting his cheeks in.Â
âOkay, let me go check in, and Iâll come back and tell you my room number so you can phone me.â You said, walking toward the check-in office.Â
âIâll just call and ask for your room.â He muttered, throwing the gear shift into reverse.Â
âBut, you never even asked me myââ
âI remember your name, Y/N.â He spat, spinning his head around to check his surroundings before he whipped the truck from the parking spot, kicking up dust as he flew back down the road.Â
ââ
Upon entering the check-in office, your eyes had to do little to adjust, as there were barely any lights on at all. The stench of the room itself was like must and rotting wood, with just a hint of Borax and lemon-scented cleaner. You glanced to the large counter that spanned the room, leaving your suitcase behind while you approached it. After a minute or two of waiting, you let your palm gently tap on the bell that sat on the desk, âRing for Serviceâ written on an old note underneath it.Â
âHi, hello. Could I get a single room for the next week, please?â You asked the gruff woman that finally limped her way from the back room.Â
âHUH?â She all but yelled, squinting her eyes as she held her hand up to her ear. She must be hard of hearing.Â
You cleared your throat to speak a bit louder. âIâd like a room for the next seven nights, please.â You spoke loudly, mouthing the words clearly as you watched her read your lips.Â
âOnly room I gotâs a double efficiency.â She barked, grabbing a pen as she lifted the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck to rest on her nose. You snarled your nose up in confusion, remembering that you only saw another one or two cars in the lot.Â
âI donât need something that large, itâs just me, if you want to put me in something smalleââ
âDouble efficiency.â She said, writing down some number into her oversized ledger book. âItâs $35 a night. I take cash upfront for the whole stay. Fresh linens every other day.â
âThirty-five a night? Maâam, isnât that a bit high?â Your voice was raised on its own now, out of pure surprise at the price.Â
âEither that or you ride down to the new Ramada an hour and a half South, and seeinâ as how Jake brought you here, itâs lookinâ like the double efficiency for yeh.âÂ
You seethed as she scribbled the math into her book, her jaws gnawing together as she chewed on nothing. âTwo forty-five rate plus sixty-seven tax gives usâŠâ she tapped away loudly at her printing calculator. âThree hundred twelve for the week.â
You felt like throwing up. That took a good chunk from the cash you brought along, but thankfully didnât drain you completely. Luckily, the money youâd saved up for the wedding was well above what youâd need to survive on, so it didnât hurt too badly as you begrudgingly counted out the bills from your wallet.Â
âWrite your name and date here, signature here.â She pointed in her book for you to sign next to room number 7. She smiled a large grin as you laid out the bills for her, her mouth showing no more than a few teeth. As she gave you her best fake smile, you noticed her right eye was almost completely glossed over with a blue sheen. âNeed a receipt?â
âNo, thank you.â You chirped, wanting to get the hell away from this eerie woman and into your double efficiency as quickly as possible.Â
âIâll bring fresh linens day after. No guests. Hereâs your key, donât lose it, I only got the one. Shower takes a good five minutes to heat, and donât be smokinâ none of that grass in the room. Stinks up the place.â She said at a high volume while she wagged her finger toward your face.Â
You raised your eyebrows at the irony of the smell of the place, nodding her way as you grabbed the key from the countertop. She turned away, taking your wad of cash with her back to the room she came from. âNameâs Wanda if you need anything.â
It was getting to be dark outside now, the dull streetlights barely illuminating the sidewalk enough for you to see the room numbers on the front of the doors as you passed.Â
âFiveâŠsixâŠseven.â You whispered to yourself as you dropped the heavy suitcase beside you to fish the key from your pocket. As you slid the key into the slot and twisted the old knob, you were immediately met with the same stench as you were in the lobby. Old and grimey.Â
You brought your bag inside and quickly turned to lock the door behind you, sliding the hanging chain into place. You inspected the room, seeing the two beds with old brown comforters laid across them, a nightstand in between, and a single TV on the chest of drawers in the corner. Itâll do. The bathroom wasnât much better, and it looked as though the calcium and lime deposits on the shower head could kill a man.Â
You sighed a deep sigh as you listened to your stomach rumble, your decision to forgo a late lunch at the diner earlier now seeming like a bad idea. The apple you had stashed away in your bag would have to suffice.Â
After unpacking a little bit of your clothing from your suitcase and hanging a few things in the closet, you decided to turn on the television and tuck in early for the night. You twisted the knob, watching as the light on the screen came to life, the high-pitched squeal of the staticy screen making your skin crawl. You adjusted the antenna, trying your best to get a better picture of what looked to be the evening news, but it was no use. But, some sound was better than no sound.Â
You slipped your top and jeans off and folded them neatly over the bed, planning on wearing them again tomorrow to save on any kind of laundry youâd end up needing to do. An old t-shirt from an old high-school boyfriend would have to be your choice of pajamas for the night. You flicked off the light, and climbed into the starchy sheets, the pillow feeling rock hard under your head. You shook your head as you looked at the ceiling, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this mess.Â
This was supposed to be an adventure. A period of regrowth. A time to just live, find yourself again. Maybe join up with a new tribe of people, try new things, see where the wind would blow youâŠ
But no. Youâre here in your old hometown in a sticky motel, with a broken-down car, and no dinner. On the first day of your escape. You crossed your arms across your chest, allowing yourself a second to pout. For a split second, you contemplated going back to Iowa, back to your motherâs, back to the comforts of home, but youâd never return to Peter. Not in a million years, the scumbag.Â
You twisted up your nose as your legs rubbed across the hard mattress and scratchy sheets, wondering who the hell the last people to sleep here were, or worse, if Wanda had actually even washed them when they left.Â
â
The sound of three quick knocks on your door awoke you from what must have been a light sleep, the noise making your heart immediately pound. You hopped up, snaking across the floor quietly and peeking out of the peephole. You half expected to see a murderer standing at the door, but then, why would they have knocked?Â
Must be Wanda.Â
No, she doesnât care about anyone but herself, apparently.Â
You squinted your eye to see a ruffle of dark curls in the pale light, standing and swaying back and forth while he waited for you to open the door.Â
âDaniel?â You whispered, pulling the door open wide enough that the chain lock pulled taut. âWhat are you doing?â You pulled the chain free, opening the door all the way.Â
His eyes popped out of his head as he took in a quick breath, the look on his face completely surprised, and a little embarrassed.Â
âHey, umâŠIâm sorry, IâŠâ he muttered, pulling his arm behind his head.Â
âNo, itâs fine, you just surprised me, thatâs all. Is everythingâŠâ you pause, noticing he wasnât shying away from his awkward stance. You suddenly felt the breeze blow across your almost completely uncovered lower-half.Â
âShit!â You yelped, pulling your t-shirt down as far as it would go over your legs. You bounced back into the room, pulling the comforter from the bed to cover yourself. âIâm sorry, I completely didnât evenâŠâ
âNo no, Iâm sorry.â Danny admitted from the open doorway. âI just came toâŠâ
You wrapped the linen around yourself, a complete cocoon now as you waddled like a mummy back over to him with a shy smile on your face.Â
He laughed, his bright white teeth a contrast to the dark complexion of his skin. You felt the pit of your stomach fall at the sight.Â
âI just came to see if you wanted to grab a late dinner with me, seeing as how you canât drive to get anything, and thereâs no such thing as room service in a place like this.â He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.Â
âOh, no, Daniel, thatâs awful sweet of you to offer. But, I had an apple, so IâmâŠall setâŠâ you admitted, the pit of hunger in your stomach getting bigger as the minutes ticked on.Â
He furrowed his brow. âYou canâŠcall me Danny, if you want. We arenât complete strangers.â
You felt your eyes sparkle at him. Stop it, Y/N.Â
You swallowed. âOkay, DannyâŠâ
âAn apple? Thatâs all youâve had all day?â
âYeah. And well, a few sips of coffee earlierâŠâ you admitted, waving him off. âTruly, Iâm just fine.â
He stood and stared at you a few seconds longer, his eyes slipping past you and into the empty room behind you. The light of the static-snowed screen reflected off his features, accentuating his face, his jawline, his lipsâŠthe tattoos that crawled up his neckâŠ
âOkay, well. Iâll see you around then?â He stated more than asked, before turning on his heels and disappearing down the sidewalk.Â
Shit. You were starving. And bored. And not sleepy anymore. And, after letting your eyes wander a little too long on himâŠyou feltâŠ
âDanny!â You called back, seeing him turn with anticipation. âLet me put some pants on?â
He grinned again, and began making his way back toward your door as you popped back inside to re-dress yourself. You quickly pulled your jeans and halter on, and took a second to fluff your hair without him seeing. You grabbed a light jacket and pulled it over your arms, and made sure to slip your room key into your purse before throwing it over your shoulder.Â
You stepped back outside the door, catching Danny leaning against the wall smoking. âThat was quick.â He said, blowing smoke into the air. You noticed it smelled different than what Jake smoked, it was sweeter and not as rancid.Â
âDid you walk here?â You asked him as you locked the door, noticing that there were no new vehicles in the parking lot.Â
âHell no.â He chuckled. âI brought Ruby.â
âWho?â
As you rounded the edge of the building, you saw what he was referring to. An early model motorcycle, a little rusted and definitely dirty, but you could see the red paint peeking out from underneath the dust.Â
You watched as he lifted his leg and straddled the seat, pulling his weight over to kick the stand up. He turned the key and revved the engine, walking it forward just a bit as you watched. He motioned with his head for you to hop on, of which you quickly denied.Â
âNo no, Iâll walk, itâs fine.â You muttered, the engine drowning out the sound of your voice. You backed away, crossing your arms nervously. No way you were going to hop on the back of a motorcycle with a man you hardly knew. In the dark in a strange town, much less.Â
âAh come on, itâll take you twenty minutes to walk there.â He yelled over the purring, again tilting his head back for you to climb in behind him. He slowly pulled the tie from his hair, letting his elbow-length waves fall before re-gathering it, and twisting at his neck again. He gave you another side smile, raising his eyebrows as he playfully revved the engine again.Â
Fuck it.Â
You bashfully stepped forward, hiking your leg up over the seat to fit right in behind him, the seat forcing you to press against his back a little more closely than you were comfortable with. And to make things even more awkward, you werenât sure what to do with your hands. You let them drop to your thighs as he walked the bike forward a little again, turning it before he caught pavement and took off down the road without warning.Â
You squealed loudly, your unfamiliarity with riding on the back of a motorcycle startling you completely. Without hesitation and in fear of falling off, your hands wrapped around Dannyâs torso, and your feet fell in behind his on the racks.Â
âOh shit!â You yelled as he took off down the road, your arms gripping him tighter as you tried to get your balance. You were positive if you let go for even the tiniest second, you were going to eat rocks.Â
âYou alright back there?â He asked, turning his head slightly.Â
âNo, not really! I feel like Iâm gonna fall!â You admitted, the wind whipping your hair in all directions.Â
âYou wonât fall, I wonât let you.â His left hand came down to grasp your fists gathered across his chest, and slowly pushed them downward toward his stomach, instantly making you feel leveled out, and a ton more balanced. He patted your hands there, telling you to leave them.Â
Then his hand found your thigh, running his hand along the outside seam of your jeans from your knee to right below your asscheek. What the fuck? Before you could slap the hell out of him, he gripped up under your leg, jerking your forward on the seat to press your chest hard against his back.Â
Instantly more centered.Â
âIs that better? Still feel like youâre gonna fall?â He asked through the wind.Â
You gulped, the rush of the past 13 seconds making your head spin. But he was right, you no longer felt like you were going to topple over.Â
âNo, yesâŠitâs betterâŠâ you choked out as he began to pick up speed.Â
âGood. Hang on.â He ordered, speeding up significantly as you barreled down the dusty pavement. And hang on you did. The wind across your face was literally taking your breath away, and making your eyes water. You blinked away the tears as you focused, truly getting your bearings and relaxing your body against Dannyâs to get a feel for the bike beneath you. You took a breath and let your body fall into his back a bit more, the motions of his flexing back muscles pressed up against you as he lifted his foot to switch gears.Â
What the hell are you doing? What is happening?
After a whirlwind two or three minutes, you were slowing down and pulling into the parking lot of Louieâs, the same diner you had stopped into earlier for directions. Danny slowed the bike to a crawl and walked it forward before lowering the kickstand. You instinctively pulled your feet to the ground too, only the tips of your toes reaching the dirt below them.Â
âDonât tell me that was your first motorcycle rideâŠâ he said as he leaned his body weight to one side, standing all the way up on solid ground. You followed his action, letting your shaky legs hop off the bike with the help of Dannyâs strong hand.Â
âYeah, uh. It was.â You tried to sound nonchalant, like it was no big deal, while on the inside, your body was screaming with nervous adrenaline. You patted your hands over your hair to calm your flyaways, trying your best to keep your cool girl composure.Â
âNo shit? Well, if Iâd have known that I wouldnât have taken off so quick. You felt like a natural once you got your balanceâŠâ he flitted his eyes your way as you began to make your way to the door.Â
You gave him a shy smile back. âAre they um. Are they still open? Itâs getting lateâŠâ you glanced at your watch, finding it to be 9:20pm.Â
Danny swung the glass door open, frowning as you walked inside before him. âOh, yeah. Theyâre open âtil midnight. And itâs pork chop night, I never miss pork chop night.â
You walked inside the now neon-lit diner, finding many of the same shady-looking characters as you had seen earlier in the day. You nodded toward the man who gave you the directions to Jakeâs, of which he returned with a curt smile.Â
âBubba!â Danny exclaimed, forcefully throwing two hands to the back of the manâs shoulders, startling him from his coffee. âSave any pork chops for me?â
âTheyâs a few back there, Iâm sure. Ainât too many people in today.â He answered, turning back to his coffee. âGeraldine! Dannyâs here for his special!â The man yelled across the bar, moving sideways to see if he could see in through the opening in the wall to the kitchen.Â
Just then the same woman in the pink apron waltzed through the double-swinging saloon doors, putting on a giant smile as soon as she saw you and Danny. She made her way around the bar, taking Dannyâs face between her hands and squeezing his cheeks. âEveninâ, honey.â Her gruff voice said as she swatted his face.Â
âEveninâ, Geraldine.â He answered, obviously this was a woman he respected. She turned and found her place again behind the bar, reaching into her apron pocket for her pen and order pad. You and Danny walked to a booth in the middle of the restaurant, and you moved to sit down before he stopped you.Â
âHmm-mm, let me sit there. Wanna see the door.â He said, grabbing your shoulders to scoot you sideways to the opposite booth.Â
âOkayâŠwhat for?â You questioned.Â
âI recognize this one from earlier today, hardly touched her coffee. You make it to Aceâs, honey?â Geraldine interrupted without making eye contact with you as she scribbled something down on her order pad.Â
Danny cleared his throat and looked to you, raising his eyebrows.Â
âOh! Me! Yes maâam, I barely made it, but uh. Got it there before it could die on me. Theyâre going to fix it right up.â You answered, feeling silly for having to practically yell your business across the diner to answer her. You watched the man you now knew as Bubba turn in his stool, holding the same flat smile as he did when you first came inside.Â
âThe normal, Danny?â Geraldine asked.Â
âYes please, thanks.â He replied, poking his wrapped silverware onto the tabletop.Â
âAnd for the lady?â She went on.Â
You looked down to see no menu in front of you, so you decided to go with your gut. âUm, Iâll have what heâs having?â Your tone was questioning.Â
Geraldine smiled. âPork chop in gravy, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas, sweetie.â
âOh, perfect. All but the peas, please.â You replied, watching as Geraldine nodded and made her way back into the kitchen.Â
âWhy donât you like peas? Theyâre good for you.â Danny said, stretching his arm across the back of the booth behind him. You swallowed hard, recalling the memory of the peas rolling across the floor of Peterâs office. The smell of them smashed against your shoes, still fresh in your mind, and easily makes your stomach turn just from the thought.Â
âNever been a fan.â You answered, resting your chin in your hand.Â
Danny pursed his lips together, leaning in now across the table toward you. You watched as a tiny strand of hair fell in front of his eye, his tongue stuck to the back of his teeth as he inhaled. âI wouldâve eaten your peas, Y/N. Tsk tsk.âÂ
You looked at him in amused confusion, unsure of what his angle really was. After being around him only a grand total of maybe an hour the entire day, you gathered that you could hardly tell if he was joking or serious at any given time. But his overall demeanor was kind, and playful, and he had invited you here tonight, so you intended on learning him better.Â
Just while you were here, of course.Â
Suddenly two steaming black coffees were placed in front of you, the aroma bringing your senses back to life again. âCream, sweetie?â Geraldine asked, placing a tiny metal pitcher full of the milky liquid in front of you and turning away before you could answer.Â
You poured the cream in, stirring it together until it was mixed, and you blew on it before you took a slow sip, Danny watching your every move intently.Â
âSomething I can help you with?â You asked him, commenting on his unwelcome stare.Â
He snarled his top lip as he shook his head and readjusted in his seat. You took a second to look at him, hoping to maybe intimidate him right back. His dark waves still balled up at his neck, the loose strands falling as curls in front of his face and behind his ears. His tightened jaw and cocked eyebrow letting you know he was still sizing you up. His old black Ford Motors t-shirt stretched tightly across his buff chest and arms, the worn holes around the collar letting you know it was well-loved and worn-in.Â
âSo. Elementary school. You were thereâŠâ he finally spoke up, lighting another sweet-smelling smoke.Â
âSt. James, yeah. I think you were a couple of years behind me.â You answered, sipping your coffee.Â
âMhmm.â He hummed, taking a puff. âYou left in the middle of the year.âÂ
âHow do you remember that?â You asked, realizing he would have only been in the first grade when you left.Â
âBecause suddenly we didnât have enough people to have even teams for kickball. You left and we were a man short. Had to ask Willie Addams to play and he couldnât run for shit. Had the coordination of a fuckinâ baby giraffe.âÂ
You giggled at him, almost spitting out your coffee. âOk, how do you remember that?â You pressed. âYou were like 6.â
He shrugged his shoulders. âJake says I have the memory of an elephant, whatever the fuck that means. Anyway, enough talk about zoo animals. Where were you really headed, Y/N? Before you got stuck here with usâŠâ He leaned again, and you noticed his eyes began anxiously darting around, just like Jakeâs had done earlier.Â
You purposely waited for him to make eye contact with you again, finding it rude that he was looking everywhere but at your face after asking you a question. When he finally did, you answered.Â
âI was heading to Atlanta. From Salvation, Iowa.â You replied honestly. âWhy?â
âPeople donât normally just casually cruise back through their hometown unless theyâre looking for something.â He said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. The white ceramic mug looked tiny in his giant inked hand.Â
âWell Iâm not people. I wasnât looking for anything, I justââ
âSo you were running.â He raised his eyebrows again, knowing he had struck some type of gold from the obviously surprised look on your face.Â
You stayed silent for a beat. He laughed through his nose.Â
âI wasnât running, I wasâŠjust, getting away. Itâs different.â You tried to dismiss his prying questions, wanting nothing more than for Geraldine to bring you a heaping pile of mashed potatoes so you wouldnât have to go on about your wasted adventure with a man you hardly knew from Adam.Â
âBut you left home for a reason, right?â He went on. âIf people plan to move, they usually bring along more than a couple suitcases and their old wedding dress, Y/N. Youâre telling me you left your makeup vanity and trunk and sofa at home?âÂ
Fuck. You didnât wanna talk about this.Â
When you stayed silent again, he laughed in satisfaction. âYou were running.â
You leaned in close. âLook, if you want to know every detail of my life, youâre gonna have to do a little more than invite me to dinner, Daniel.â You spat.Â
âWhat if I already planned to do a little more?â He inferred, sitting back against the booth and running his hand along his slicked-back hair.Â
You choked back. âThatâs an awfully forward thing to say to someone you just met.â
âI didnât just meet you. I knew you in the first grade. And I know I was upset when you werenât there to play kickball any more.â His eyes began scanning the windows again, jumping back and forth as he spoke. Your heart began racing at his words.Â
âWhy do you care, Danny? About what Iâm doing here?â You asked, truly wanting to know.Â
He shrugged, taking another draw of his smoke. âYou seem like a fun little challenge. I like challenges. Mysteries. Cracking codesâŠâ
You scoffed. âWell, you sure as hell ainât cracking anything of mine.â
âYeah? Weâll see about that one.â The side of his lips curled up as you caught onto his flirtation. Danny let his smoke hang between his lips as he rubbed his hands together, his fingernails still dirty from the workday.Â
You were simultaneously turned off and turned on by his strange way of coming on to you; you knew that was what he was doing, but in some odd way, it was charming. You felt safe with him, even if his way of flirting was nothing like anything youâd ever seen before.Â
In the nick of time, Geraldine brought your plates over, setting them in front of you with harsh thuds. âAlright one sans peas, one extra peas. Refill of coffee, and Iâll be back in a bit to check on ya.âÂ
âThank you, maâam.â Danny muttered.Â
You held his deep gaze as you unrolled your silverware from the tight napkin, and dug directly in to the mashed potatoes without hesitation. He licked his tongue across his teeth as he followed your motions. The two of you ate in silence, and you let yourself enjoy the hot meal in front of you, wondering if Danny would let you forgo the motorcycle ride, and just walk home.Â
After a basically wordless and slightly awkward meal, Danny sat and watched as you finished off your coffee, still pushing a pea around the plate with the end of his fork.Â
âGood pork chops, right?â He finally asked.Â
âMight be the best ones Iâve ever had.â You replied honestly. But you had been so hungry, you mightâve thought shoe leather sounded appetizing had you waited any longer. That apple was long gone.Â
âI wouldnât steer you wrong.â He growled, another sly smile creeping to his face. He stretched his neck, the thin lines of the spider web tattoo bulging over his artery. âWhat are your plans for the night?â Â
You placed your napkin and silverware on top of the empty plate, pushing it back a bit to fold your arms across the table. âSleep.âÂ
âWell that doesnât sound like any fun.â He laughed, and if you didnât know him any better, you wouldâve thought he really didnât believe you.Â
âWhat? Thatâs really all Iâm doingâŠwhat else would I do?â You asked sternly. âI donât know anyone, I donât have a car, this podunk town doesnât have much to offer, Danny.â
He sighed as he put his elbows on the table, the sleeves of the tight shirt pulling against his biceps. You took a second to glance at his arms, tanned and bronze from the sun. The black-lined and barely-colored tattoos that covered his arms instantly piqued your interest, but you couldnât let him know you were looking. In your three-second glance, you noticed the set of dice on the inside of his wrist, some type of messy writing along the inside of his forearm, and a tigerâs face peeking out from under the short sleeve of his shirt. And that was only the few your mind comprehended.Â
âYouâre right. Ainât much here. But it can be a good time if you know what youâre looking for.â He raised his eyebrow in question.Â
You shook your head. âNot me, thanks. Iâd rather not have my face hanging on missing posters around town next week.â
âWhy would you say that?â He was taken back.Â
âBecause you havenât stopped darting your eyes to the door and out the windows since we got here. Your body language is forcibly relaxed, youâre a little on edge, and I think youâre kind of paranoid. I donât know why, but you donât seem like you feel safe in your own town, Danny.âÂ
He huffed an exasperated laugh. âOf course I feel safe here, why would I live here if I didnât?â He said defensively.Â
âHow did you know what room I was in?â You asked, craning your neck sideways. âJake left before I checked in today. Did you ask Wanda so you could keep tabs on me?â
You clicked your tongue as his eyes bulged from his head at your words. âThatâs what I thought. Oh, and you have a switchblade knife stuffed in your boot.â
âHow do you know that?â He muttered.Â
âSaw it when your pants hiked up when you got off the motorcycle.â You pushed the plate a little further back on the table, and grabbed your purse to make your way to the cash register. You pulled a few crumpled dollars from your wallet and tossed them onto the table. You stood and came to the edge of the booth, leaning down close to Dannyâs face to whisper. âIf I didnât know any better, itâd seem that youâre the one whoâs running, Danny.â
You gave him a displeased look and turned, snaking your way through the empty tables to pay Geraldine for your suppers. âThank you, sweetie. Yâall have a good rest of your eveninâŠâ Geraldine said as the cash register dinged closed. You gave Bubba another nod before making your way to the door. You glanced back to Danny, who was still sitting stunned in the wooden booth.Â
âYou takinâ me back to the motel, or what?â
ââ
This time, finding your balance on the motorcycle was easy, like youâd been doing it for a hundred years. Danny hadnât said a word since you left the diner, only offering Bubba and Geraldine a quiet âgoodnightâ. You pressed your front against Dannyâs back, leaning into him as you wrapped your hands around his lower abdomen and sturdied your feet behind his. You let the shyness from earlier drift away, feeling more confident now that youâd spoken your piece to Danny.Â
As he picked up speed down the busted pavement, you let your mind wander a bit.Â
Ha, he thought he had you pegged. Thought you were another dumb female he could trick into his bed. Pshh. Asking you your plans for the night⊠please. Though going back to your room alone sounded less than exciting now that your stomach was full. And you were more awake than everâŠand he had kind of offeredâŠ
No. No way. You didnât know Danny.Â
âIt can be a good time if you know what youâre looking forâŠâ
No. Horrible idea. Sleep.Â
Shower, and sleep.Â
Just as you made your mind up, you felt Dannyâs hand run along the outside of your leg again. What is he doing? He wasnât cautious, he was confident. Like the motion was the most natural thing heâd ever done. You could feel the heat from his hand radiating through the denim of your jeans, and though his touch was unwelcome, you let it happen. Why were you letting it happen?
He didnât need to pull you forward into him like he had earlier, you were already pressed against him as far as you could get. You watched as his shoulder flexed as his arm reached back and down to your leg, his fingers gliding lightly over your thigh while he steered with his other hand. Shit, the heat of his touchâŠ
You let your chest press into him just a little closer, and the contact made your nipples instantly stand at attention. Your choice to not wear a bra tonight was silently working against you. But damn, you couldnât denyâŠthis man was attractive. Very attractive. And you already couldnât deny the physical chemistry between you, his hand so nonchalantly petting your thigh while his other gripped the handlebar.Â
You felt him take a deep breath, his grip tightening on your leg muscle. You realized your other hand had been resting gently on his stomach, holding on tightly as he navigated the bumpy streets. In an act of pure confidence, you let your thumb drift a few inches down, and loop into the hem of his jeans, your other fingers gripping onto his leather belt. With your motion, his hand tightened again, his thumb swiping back and forth as he let his hand drift further back.Â
Your mind was frenzied, suddenly your stomach felt tightly wound with an unknown and unwarranted anticipation. Danny removed his hand from your thigh, and kicked his right foot a couple times to shift the bike down. He gripped the bars and turned, and suddenly you were in front of your motel room door. Damn, you hadnât even noticed you were here already.Â
He pulled the kickstand down as he shut off the bike, and you quickly pulled your hand from the way-too-intimate place near his groin. He stood and stepped off the bike, and you followed behind. You cleared your throat as you resituated your purse on your shoulder, suddenly feeling exposed. You pulled your jacket over your chest, and reached into your bag to find the room key.Â
âThanks for the ride.â You purred.Â
âThanks for dinner, I was supposed to pay, you know. I invited you outâŠâ
âNo, no. Itâs my pleasure, seeing as how you thought of me, and all.â You answered, making your way to unlock the old doorknob. You felt Danny follow behind, walking you to the door. He had shoved his hands in his pockets, and his closed-off demeanor returned, quite the opposite of the confidence he dripped on the bike.Â
You unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the light inside. Danny stood in the threshold as you dispensed your purse on the table.Â
âYou were right. I did ask Wanda what room you were in. And before you get freaked out, it wasnât because I was trying to keep tabs on you. Not in the way youâre thinking, at least.â He said, glancing side to side down either way of the sidewalk before he stepped inside the room just a little. âY/N, look. Youâre right. This town can be dangerous. It ainât a five-star city. There is a lot that goes on behind closed doors here. So yes, I wanted to know where you were becauseââ
âYou want to keep an eye on me. I get it. I owe you and Jake money, still.â You quipped, unsure of how to feel about that.Â
He nodded slowly, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe as he crossed his flexed arms. âWell, yes, butâŠItâs more for your well-being, Y/N. Thatâs all. There are someâŠshady creatures here.â He mumbled, stepping a little further inside.Â
You slowly sat down on the bed, feeling the stiff mattress squeak beneath you. His steps were heavy as he came further inside, slowly, his eye contact making you feel like you were going to forget how to breathe. You leaned back on your arms, the gritty brown comforter rough under your fingertips. âAre you one of thoseâŠshady creatures?â You asked, barely above a whisper as you found him standing almost directly between your legs.Â
He lifted his almost completely-inked hand and pushed away a tiny strand of hair that had fallen across your forehead, brushing it back to join the rest of your hair. Your heart rate picked up at his subtle touch, his calloused and dirty fingertips just barely grazing the side of your face. âGuess it depends on who you askâŠâ his words were slow, his bottom lip biting slowly into his mouth as he spoke.Â
Your breath caught in your throat, and you instantly felt the same chemistry as earlier begin to ravage your body again. He was towering over you so close, your legs pressed apart by the outsides of his. His knees touched the edge of the bed, and you could tell his hands were arguing with his brain about touching you again. Somewhere. Anywhere.Â
He pushed your hair back again, drifting his hand down your cheek and finally to your chin, his thumb and pointer working as a team to slowly crane your neck up to look him in the eyes. Your hands were begging you to rake your nails up underneath his tight t-shirt, just to get a feel of what was beneath it. But you didnât.Â
âYouâre different, arenât you, Y/N?â He finally whispered.Â
âMmm, what do you mean?âÂ
He furrowed his brow as he lightly squeezed your chin between his fingers, his eyes studying every detail of your face.Â
âI dunnoâŠyou just have something about you. Canât quite put my finger on it yet.â He bit his lip again. You felt a ragged breath escape your lungs, and you hoped to god your body language wasnât reflecting how you felt right now.Â
âBut, I intend on figuring you out.â His thumb drifted up a bit, barely ghosting over your bottom lip. It took everything in you to not pull it into your mouth, reach your tongue out and taste him, but you stopped yourself. Canât go there tonight, as much as you really wanted to.Â
Against every coherent thought, your knees pressed in toward each other, searching for some type of relief, causing Dannyâs body to move in a bit closer to you. A low laugh left his chest as he continued to brush his thumb over your lip, pressing a little harder when you made him fall into you. âA fuckinâ gem, arenât you?âÂ
You swallowed, unsure how to answer. Or how to think, for that matter. This gorgeous man standing between your legs in your hotel room, you barely know him at allâŠbut already you felt like you could grip the soft cotton of his t-shirt and yank him down into the bed beside you, and have your way with him until the sun came up. Because, what do you have to lose?
âWill have a ride for you tomorrow. Get some sleep.â He muttered, his eyelids hooded over his deep brown eyes as he peered down to you. You watched his Adams apple jerk as he swallowed, regaining the same composure you were begging yourself to find. He stepped back and turned to exit through the still-open door. âLock this behind me.â
And before you could gather even the simplest thought, he was gone.Â
â
You stood naked in front of the scratched and lopsided hanging mirror in the bathroom, waiting the long five minutes for the shower to heat, just as Wanda had said. Your skin was still flushed from the close intensity from Danny just a few short minutes ago, and your heart rate was just now slowing from the interaction.Â
Shit. You arenât supposed to feel these thingsâŠyou just left Peter. You were on the search to enrich your life, go wild, not add drama and danger to itâŠ
But, you had set out in search of an adventure, could this be it? Could this strange, gritty, already confusing mechanic be your ticket to letting loose? Youâd never had those young years to explore yourself and sow your oats; Peter was one of your very first serious boyfriends ever, and one of only a handful of partners youâd had before that. Half of your mind was terrified from Dannyâs words of warning, and the other half of you said fuck it, chase it. Why not? What do you honestly have to lose at this point?Â
You stepped into the now steaming shower and began to suds up the plain white bar of soap that was wrapped up on the countertop. You let the hot streams of water calm your muscles and your nerves as you ran over the events of your crazy day.Â
âWill have a ride for you tomorrowâŠâÂ
What did that mean? You chalked it up to he would probably be picking you up again in the morning to go back to the garage to give a down payment, or something. Either way, youâd wake up to a new day, and you were already hoping itâd be just as eventful as today.Â
ââ
The growling sound of an engine outside the motel startled you from your daydream as you watched the picture on the television blur and scatter back and forth. A glance at your watch told you it was 10am exactly, and you walked to the peephole to see who had pulled up.Â
It wasnât the person you expected to see. You unlocked the door and swung it open, the still misty morning air chilling your face.Â
âJake, morning. What are youââ
âYou ready to sign your quote? Iâm ordering the parts today.â He interrupted as he slammed his truck door shut.Â
âYeah, yeah. Just let me grab my bag.â You stepped back inside, slightly confused; you fully expected to see Danny pull up on his motorcycle to whisk you away again.Â
You stepped outside and locked the door behind you, and you and Jake both hopped up into the truck. Jake was silent again, and you were coming to realize he didnât speak unless it was completely necessary, or unless spoken to. He was a man of few words, but you gathered that he probably wasnât being outwardly rude, just was his nature to be quiet. You hoped, at least.Â
He reached down and cranked his window, the air blowing his freshly-showered scent around in the cab of the truck. The scent of Brut after-shave tingled in your nose; youâd know that smell anywhere. It made you look his way, seeing that his skin was actually visible now that he wasnât covered in grease and dirt. His hand gripped the tree, shifting it to third as his speed leveled out on the road.Â
His hands were completely covered in tattoos just like Dannyâs were, and they crawled up his wrist and forearm, all the way to his shoulder and into his neck. His cutoff t-shirt exposed his chest and side, also covered in a swirling piece of art that was laced with deep reds and blues. There were hundreds of them. And you were willing to bargain that each and every one had a story.Â
His ever-present cigarette hung between his lips as he stayed focused on the road, his shoulder length locks whipping around in the wind. You hadnât seen him like this yetâŠclean, natural, and normal. His demeanor was the same as it was yesterday, straightforward and no-nonsense.Â
âThatâs yours, if you want it.â He gestured between you on the bench seat, pointing to a large biscuit wrapped up in wax paper. âI couldnât eat two.â
âOh, thatâs nice of you. Thanks.â You began to unwrap it and tear off little pieces, bringing them shyly to your mouth. âDidn't poison it, did you?âÂ
He huffed what you think was a laugh through his nose. âNo. If you died Iâd have to steal the part money from your purse, and I donât want to do that.â Was that his attempt at a joke?
You giggled, again unsure how to take him.Â
âWhereâs Danny? I figured heâd be the one scooping me up after last night.â You asked, taking another bite of biscuit.Â
His head shot your way, his eyes narrowed. âLast night?â
âYeah, he picked me up on his bike, we got some food at Louieâs. Said heâd be back today.â Now that you thought about it, he never actually said he would be the one picking you up, just that there would be a ride for you here today.Â
âAh, so he took you on a date.â Jake muttered, his voice low again over the radio.Â
âNo, it wasnât a date. He just invited me to eat with him. Knew I shouldnât walk through town to get food by myself. He was being thoughtful.â You suddenly felt defensive of Danny.Â
âThoughtful. So, a date.â Jake responded, blowing smoke out the window before flicking the cigarette onto the road.Â
âSo what if it was?â You decided to play along. âWhat would it matter?âÂ
He shook his head with a mock laugh. âDanny is a nice guy, but he doesnât take women on dates. That I can assure you.âÂ
You felt offended. âSo, what, just a one night stand kind of guy?âÂ
Jake let a one-syllable laugh fall from his lips as he raised his eyebrows, shifting back down to make the tight turn up the hill to the shop. âGuess you could say that.âÂ
Why was he always so vague?Â
Just as you were nearing the shop, Jake reached his arm across the bench seat and across your lap, leaning almost all the way onto you to crank the window all the way down. He rolled the handle quickly, his bicep muscle flexing hard right in front of your eyes.Â
âOh, sorry, I could have done thatââ you sputtered.Â
âItâs a son of a bitch to roll, requires a little bit of elbow grease.â He said before throwing the truck in park and shutting off the engine. âIâve got your paperwork ready, all you have to do is sign for the total and put half down. Rest will be due when itâs fixed.â
He was halfway out of the truck and still talking, so you clambered your way out, too, to make sure you caught the tail end of what he was saying. The two of you walked into the shop, vehicles already pulled into the bay with the hoods popped. Loud music was coming from an old radio on a high shelf, an old Johnny Cash song bouncing off the walls.Â
âDaniel, can you please turn that fucking shit down? Jesus Christ!â Jake yelled.Â
You watched as Dannyâs curls emerged out from underneath an old Cadillac, his feet pushing him out as he laid on a creeper. He gave you a quick tiny smile when you made upside-down eye contact.Â
âWhen you open the shop on time and get in here when youâre fuckinâ supposed to, maybe Iâll consider your goddamn propositions, Jake. I mean shit, we live here.â He rolled all the way out and stood from the creeper, watching as Jake slowly ascended the old metal stairs on the side of the building. âIâve been the only one here since fuckinâ 7:00. Why the fuck would I turn my music down if Iâm the only one getting my fuckinâ hands dirty?â Danny spat.Â
You looked up onto the lofted area of the shop, watching as Jake topped the steps and walked across, flipping Danny the bird from above before looking to you and switching his middle finger to his pointer, signaling for you to âcome hereâ, and follow him up the stairs.Â
You hopped into action, making your way to the staircase to follow Jake to the top. When you got up there, you looked around to find this was the office area. Tons and tons of old papers stacked away in messy piles, collecting dust and dirt. Boxes that held forgotten parts, shelves filled to the brim with old 3-ring binders, dusty photos on the wall, and in the center of it all, an old wooden desk with a chair that had seen better days. You watched as Jake pulled the string hanging from a single fluorescent light, plopping into the chair as the light buzzed to life.Â
He pulled on a pair of thin wired readers, peering down to a ledger that looked similar to the one Wanda took your room reservation in. He was fingering through a parts manual and double checking his work on a calculator, so you took a second to look at a few of the black and white photos hanging framed on the wall.Â
One, a larger photo, hung right in the middle of the rest. It was a man in a white tank top, dirty as can be, a pair of old slacks pulled up to his belly button. He was leaned with his back against an old black Chevelle, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He wasnât smiling, just standing stoically with his arms crossed across his chest. He looked strikingly exactly like Jake, except the photo must have been taken when the man was a bit older than Jake is now.Â
âJake, this man looks just like youâŠis heââ
âWas. My father, yes.â He said, voice flat.Â
âHandsomeâŠâ you muttered. âWas this his shop before it was yours?âÂ
He nodded, still looking to his ledger. âYeah. Ace.â
You pulled your eyes from the photo, walking slowly back to the desk. âAceâŠAceâs garage. How long has heâŠbeen gone?â You wanted to put the words right back into your mouth as soon as they left it. It wasnât any of your business.Â
âHe died the day before my eighteenth birthday. You wanna come sign here?â Jake said, extending a pen out for you.Â
Damn, Jake. Thatâs heavy.Â
You walked over to take a look at the estimate, seeing that the price was actually not as much as you thought it would be. âSo half now, half when itâs done?â You reiterated, signing your name across the slip of paper.Â
âYep.â He responded shortly.Â
You reached into your purse and pulled out the white envelope of your cash, counting it out in hundreds and fifties. As you slowly counted out loud, you took special care to run your fingers over the stiff new bills, making sure none stuck together. In the middle of them all was an old fifty dollar bill, a giant red âXâ drawn across the Presidentâs face.Â
âSomeone didnât like Grant, I guess.â You laughed, trying to break the awkward silence as he watched you count.Â
When you were finally finished, you gathered the bills up and handed them to Jake in a nice neat stack. âThanks.â He said, taking the cash and stuffing it in a till box before shoving it in a safe.Â
âThank you. Hey, think I could use your restroom really quickly?â You asked, feeling like your bladder was about to burst with shitty motel room coffee.Â
He threw his glasses down onto the table and pulled the light off, giving you a funny look before leading you back toward the stairs again. âOnly bathroom here is mine and Dannyâs, probably ainât the cleanest.â He said as he quickly jumped down the steps.Â
âItâs no problem.â You answered. How bad could it be?
He led you underneath the loft and through a door, into a dark hallway with multiple doors. âLast one on the left.â Jake hit the wall with his palm before walking back into the bay.Â
This must be the part they live in. As you passed by the other doors, one was closed, and the other was cracked open to reveal what looked to be a messy bedroom. A mattress on the floor covered in disheveled blankets, liquor bottles on the makeshift nightstand, and clothes strewn about.Â
When you finally reached the bathroom door, what you found inside was nothing short of disgusting. Although he had warned youâŠ
One light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the sink full of hair and stained black from the grease off their hands, a completely black toothpaste tube that didnât have a lid, flattened toothbrushes that were missing half of their bristlesâŠ
The list went on as you looked around in utter disgust. Men are so gross. Â You were positive the place had never been cleaned.Â
You swallowed and held your breath as you opened the broken toilet lid, finding it less-than-desirable with a ring in the bowl. You shuddered at what you were about to do, but if you didnât pee right now you were going to have to resort to the woods out back. Would probably be cleaner out there, actuallyâŠbut at least there is toilet paper.Â
You tried not to think too hard about it as you quickly relieved yourself, using a small piece of toilet paper to touch the lever handle to flush.Â
âEw ew ew ew.â You mumbled, deciding to not even wash your hands at the risk of dirtying them further. But even if you had, your drying options were toilet paper or their stained to hell bath towels hanging over the rod.
You were entirely grossed out, and decided to get back out to the bay as soon as you could. You flicked the light switch and reentered the hallway, noticing that the closed door across the way was opening at the same time.Â
To your surprise, a woman emerged from the room, slowly closing the door behind her. She had to be about ten years your senior, at least.Â
âHey, Sug.â She murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she turned to face you, you noticed what she was wearing.Â
Dannyâs black Ford Motors t-shirt he had on last night.Â
Your stomach dropped, suddenly it hit you exactly why he wasnât the one picking you up this morning.Â
You gave her a tight smile and a simple âGood morningâ as her keys jingled in her hand. Her makeup was definitely left over from last night, and she was carrying a pair of red high heels.Â
âI havenât seen you âround here beforeâŠâ she said, her voice still raspy with sleep.Â
âOh, IâmâŠIâm a customer. Theyâre fixing my car. Just wasâŠusing the restroom.â You explained.Â
âOh honey, no oneâs ever just a customerâŠâ She winked, before leading the two of you back out into the bay.Â
Whose room did she just come from?
â
JAKE POV
Fuck this god damn piece of shit Chevrolet.Â
Two weeks youâve been working on this fuckinâ truck, and in those two weeks you had gotten barely anything accomplished with rebuilding the motor. And now you had another to do on top of it.
Isnât it supposed to be Fords that have engine trouble? American muscle my ass. Theyâre all shit.Â
You stepped up onto the step ladder and peered back down into the belly of your newest arch-nemesis, cursing at its guts with every turn of your wrench. You look down to the floor spitting before turning your attention back under the hood.
Come on Ace. What is wrong with this son of a bitch? Help me outâŠ
You glanced over to Danny, watching as he walked outside to empty his stomach again after the late night heâd had. Out all night drinking with his latest piece, stumbling back into the shop at 3am. Then he was back up at 7? You werenât sure where he got his staminaâŠmaybe he just didnât sleep at all.Â
As you compiled the list of parts youâd need for Y/Nâs engine last night, Danny swung by your office to tell you he was leaving, only to peer over your shoulder and see her name at the top of the Quote sheet.
âSheâs a fuckinâ smokeshowâŠâÂ
âCan you please try not to sleep with this one? She seems like a decent human being⊠You donât have to sleep with all of them you know.â youâd joked.Â
âJesus, Jake. Iâm not that bad of a person. Cut me some slack. Just cause you havenât gotten laid in few months doesnât mean you have to shit on meâŠâ
Youâd pushed up from your chair and slammed your hands into his shoulders, pushing him back against the wall behind you, but his height was no match for you.Â
âFuck you, Daniel. JustâŠlisten to me. I saw her making eyes at youâŠDonât fuck this up for us.â you said.Â
âDid you really?â Youâd watched as his gears began to turn. âWhat was her room number?â
âI donât fuckinâ know, Danny. Youâre not going to her motel. Just leave her be.â You tried your best to warn him nicely. âLike you told me, sheâs a paying customer. We need her to pay usâŠâ
He sighed when he realized. âShit. Youâre right, damnit. Okay, okay. I wonât go.â
But, from the conversation you had with Y/N on the ride in this morning, you realized the fucker lied to you. He went anyway and she was clearly all about it.Â
You wanted to warn her. You tried to tell her that Danny was a one night stand type, that he didnât wine and dine like the regular guy would, but apparently she didnât listen, either. Â
As a bolt finally popped loose, it fell into the engine, tipping you over the edge of insanity.
Fuck! This! Truck!
You jumped off of the ladder and went over to the fridge under the loft, grabbing a cold Budweiser from the dirty shelf. You held the neck of the amber bottle on the edge of your toolbox, smashing your fist down on the lid, effectively popping it off. You tilted it back, letting the cold beverage run down your throat as you swallowed. Nothing like a breakfast beer.Â
Just then, you heard the shop door close and two sets of footsteps making their way out. All you could do was watch as the perfect storm brewed right in front of your eyes. How the fuck was he gonna explain this one... Y/N, Danny, and whoever his woman of the night was, all waltzing into the middle of the bay at the exact same time. As you caught sight of the woman you let out a scoff.Â
Fuck, Danny.Â
Tanya. The woman that lived in that house down on Robertson, hardly any personality at all, great tits, and apparently she was a panther in bed. Or so youâd heard. She was nice enough, and Danny always ended up bringing her around every couple of months. You didnât dislike her, but you sure as hell didnât want to be her friend, either. You didnât trust her as far as you could throw her, and last you heard, she was involved with some folks you didnât need to be associating with.Â
You paused with your beer in hand, sticking the other in your pocket as you watched the scene unfold. Your fingers twirled around a lug nut as your eyes followed Tanya, walking directly up to Daniel, wrapping her long skinny arms around his neck, and pulling him in for one last long, and especially involved, goodbye kiss. This wasnât her typical goodbye, and you knew she was marking her territory in front of Y/N. Which is why you laughed, knowing that she wouldnât hear from Daniel for at least a month. However, it wasnât lost on you, the tense nature of Danielâs body as she kissed him. His eyes open wide and looking across the bay towards Y/N.
Your eyes drifted directly to Y/N, watching as her face fell into utter disbelief. Her jaw fell slack for a second before she clamped it shut again, obviously feeling something unexpected from the sight in front of her. Whatever little daydream she had dreamed up between the two of them had all just come crashing down.
You noticed she suddenly felt out of place, bringing her embarrassed eyes to meet yours in question. You smirked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your beer as smugly as you could. You shrugged your shoulders and raised your beer bottle in the air towards her as you watched her face flame red.
Hate to say I told ya so, baby.Â
â
HER POV
You have got to get out of here.Â
But where the hell are you gonna go?
You let your feet carry you out the bay garage door out into the heat of the day, wanting to be anywhere but inside that damn building right now. Why did it matter? Why did you care?
The moment you and Danny shared last night was anything but fantastic, but it was still there. It was intimate, though he had done nothing but skim his fingertips across your face.Â
You didnât care. Itâs no big deal.Â
But why did he look at you while he kissed her? And why was Jake so amused by it?
You stomped across the dirt parking lot to your Scout, flinging the door open to dig around and find anything that could offer up a distraction. You unzipped a suitcase, finding all of your clothing still neatly folded and tucked away. Underneath a pair of old ratted bell bottoms, you pulled out your ticket to diversion from Danny for the rest of the day: Maya Angelouâs complete collection of poems.Â
Perfect.Â
The book was worn around the edges, you had read it so much as a kid. You practically had every poem memorized.Â
After replacing your folded clothing neatly back in the suitcase, you decided you had to make your way back inside at some pointâŠyou knew they had a full workday ahead, and it would be rude to ask for a ride back to the motel at this point.Â
You slammed the door shut, shielding your eyes from the bright sun directly above. The shadowy silhouette of Tanya was walking toward you as you walked toward the building, still barefoot and wobbly as she crept across the dirt and gravel toward the road. You swallowed hard, knowing an interaction was unavoidable at this point.Â
âCatch ya around, sweetcheeks.â She said as your paths crossed. She let her body come close to yours, her shoulder bumping into your chest as she stumbled. âAnd just so ya know, the tall, dark, and handsome one?â She pointed her finger tip into her own chest. âMine. Got it, Iowa?â
You snarled your nose up to her at her display; you could still smell the liquor on her breath from last night. Her eyes were hazed and obviously still high on whatever it was she was doing the night before.Â
âNo worries on my end.â You said blankly, wanting to get the hell away from her while simultaneously wanting to punch her in the face for assuming you wanted Danny.Â
You kept walking past her back into the shop, walking on the other side of the truck Jake was working on to stay as far away from Danny as you could. You didnât want to risk him noticing that you even cared.Â
You sat down in one of the ratty, dirty lawn chairs alongside the wall where Jake was working, getting as comfortable as you could before opening your book. You wanted to get lost in the words, letting them bring you back down to earth in a way only poetry could.Â
You glanced to Danny as he stepped up on the wall of shelves on his side of the bay, reaching high above his head to turn the knob on his radio up to a higher volume. He hopped down, a giant cheesing smile across his face as âFortunate Sonâ blared from the speaker. Jake slowly raised his head from under the hood of the truck, shaking it from side to side as he stared Danny down. You realized then thatâs why Danny put his stereo up so high, so that Jake physically couldnât reach it.Â
You flipped the pages of your book for the next half hour or so, letting Mayaâs words take you to another planet entirely. You listened to the sounds of their socket wrenches and power tools as they worked away, providing a surprisingly relaxing background sound.Â
âWhatcha reading?â Jakeâs voice was barely audible over the loud noises around you. You closed the book cover, holding your fingers between the pages to keep your spot.Â
âMaya Angelouâs poems. Kinda corny, I know. Butââ
âThe caged bird sings with fearful trill
of the things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.â
Your jaw fell open as Jake finished reciting Mayaâs most famous poem to a tee, not faltering over any word and pausing at the most perfect times for the poem to hold its structure.Â
He hadnât pulled his focus away from what he was doing until he realized you didnât respond, then grinned a smile so big it made your heart stop.Â
âHow did youâŠ? You know Ms. Angelou?â
âMy mom loved her. Read me her poems as a kid before I could even walk. I donât remember the sound of my momâs voice, but those words stuck with me.â He said, only glancing up to you every few words as he kept focused.Â
You were floored. This was not something you expected from Jake, let alone for him to open up about his explanation as to why he knew of her work. You felt a warmth in your stomachâŠmaybe there was something sweet under his tough exterior after all.Â
After a bit, the shop telephone started ringing. You looked to both of the guys as they worked, realizing neither of them even noticed it was ringing. Maybe the phone doesnât work? A couple minutes later, it started again, ringing and ringing off the hook for so long the shrillness started to irritate your ears.Â
âDo you want me to go get that, or what?â You asked. Jake scoffed an exasperated sigh, hopping backwards off his step stool as he pulled his red towel from his back pocket of his coveralls. He wiped his hands as best he could as he rushed up the steps to answer it.Â
You glanced to Danny, watching as he leaned over the hood of the car he was working on, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. You hadnât made eye contact or spoken since Tanya left a while ago, and you had to admit, it pissed you off a little. After last nightâsâŠmoment⊠he at least owed you something, right?Â
Once he noticed Jake was all the way upstairs, he confidently walked over your way, twirling his own towel in his hands. âYou gonna let me buy you lunch today?â He asked.Â
âWhy should I do that?â You answered blankly, not looking up from your book.Â
âBecause Iâm hungry, I know youâre hungry, and you bought dinner. Itâs only fair.â He was so matter of fact.Â
âAre you not meeting back up with Miss Red High Heels for lunch today?â Shit. Your attitude ended up getting the better of you.Â
âWho, Tanya?â He asked, pointing his thumb behind him. âFuck, no. Sheâs justââ
âA good lay?â You inquired, pulling your eyes up to him finally, flicking your eyelashes in the most sarcastic way you could.Â
He let his arms fall to his sides in defeat. âListen, Y/N. Just let me take you to lunch, please? I promise Iâll be the perfect gentleman.â He finished the end of his sentence with a smirk and a wink, instantly making your insides swirl. What the hell is he doing to you?
âAlright, I guess. But only because Iâm hungry, not because I want to hang out with you.â You gave him a side smile as you agreed.Â
You watched as he leaned his elbows down on the side panel of the truck Jake was working on, resting his chin in his hand.Â
âMmm, I bet you do want to hang out with me though, especially if you let me a little further into your motel room afterâŠâ
âWe gotta close up.â Suddenly Jake was bounding down the stairs, his steps heavy as he barrelled toward you and Danny. âClose it up, letâs go.â He slammed the hood of the truck down as soon as Danny had backed off of it enough.Â
You stood from your chair in surprise. âWhy, whatâs wrong?â
You watched as Danny shoved his towel into his pocket, his expression immediately turning into alarm.Â
âFuck, was it Teddy on the phone?â He asked Jake as he ran around, closing the lid on his tool box and wheeling it under the loft.Â
âYeah, it was fuckinâ Teddy. Hurry up.â Jake hastily walked to the bay door, pulling on the long chain to lower the large garage doors down to the ground with a slam.Â
âWhatâs going on? Who is Teddy?â You asked in a panic as they ran around you like chickens with their heads cut off.Â
Danny closed all the doors on the vehicles in the bay, and threw a large black tarp over the motorcycle he had propped up on a block. They tossed all the rogue tools into the appropriate boxes, shutting the lids as they did so.Â
What the fuck is going on?!
Anxiety began to creep into your chest as you watched them rush around in a panic.Â
After a few minutes of fury, they met in the middle of the bay, in a fit of panted exhaustion and sweaty skin. They stood with their hands on their hips, looking around the shop. Jake pulled his Lucky Strikes from his pocket, nervously lighting one up with a zippo he pulled from his pocket.Â
âFuck!â He muttered as the smoke left his lungs. âDid we miss anything?â He asked Danny rhetorically.Â
âNo, how long do we have? Do they want a game?â
âYeah, they want a fuckinâ game. Theyâll be here at sunset. Shit.â Jake answered, both of their eyes still darting around in shifted motions.Â
Finally, at the same time, their eyes landed on you standing before them in complete and utter shock.Â
âHave her help you set up, then take her back to my bedroom. Lock the door.â Jake finally commanded Danny.Â
âNo, are you fuckinâ stupid? Iâm taking her back to the motel, sheâll be safe there.â Danny argued.Â
âNo, god damnit! Sheâs staying here where we can keep an eye on her, the last thing we need is fucking free collateral, Danny. She stays here and hides.â
âHides?! Wait, what the fuckââ your heart began pounding.Â
âIf sheâs here, theyâll know weâre hiding something, Jake! They arenât stupid! If sheâs back at the motel at least sheâs far enough awayââ Danny was raising his voice to Jake now in opposition, their chests almost touching as they spat in each otherâs faces.Â
âDaniel, are you fuckinâ mental? You know Wanda isnât trustworthy anymore. And Tanya was just here! You know Bubba found out who sheâs been hanging around. And she saw Y/N! You think itâs a coincidence that two hours later, we get a call from Teddy?! Are you fuckinâ stupid?â Jake slammed a screwdriver across the floor, letting it bounce and glide across the concrete until it hit the wall. He stepped away from Danny, walking toward the back of the bay to continue what he was doing.Â
âI told you to stay away from that fucking crowd, and what did you do? Bring one of them back with you to fuck into the mattress all night.â Jake yelled, and you watched as Danny lurched his way toward him.Â
But before Danny could make it, Jake turned and held his elbow out, catching Dannyâs body across the chest. âDonât fucking come up on me like that Daniel, I swear to god. Go set up the fucking table, or get the fuck out of my shop. Take your pick.â Jake spat into his face.Â
Danny begrudgingly backed away, his hands balled into fists. âIâm not leaving you here alone.âÂ
Jakeâs demeanor instantly softened. âYou better fucking not.â He mumbled, licking his lips. Jake motioned with his eyes for Danny to retreat to the back, just like he had asked.Â
Danny breezed past you as he walked, catching your arm and pulling you along as he did so.Â
âCome on, need your help.â He muttered.Â
You ripped your arm from his grasp, flinging it away with as much force as you could muster.Â
âDanny! Tell me what the hell is going on or I am leaving!â You yelled in his face, purely enraged that they were leaving you 100% out of the picture, while deciding what to do with you.Â
He sighed, eyes darting around again. âI promise you, I will explain everything soon. And I promise, I will take you on that lunch date.â His hand came up and brushed your elbow, while the other pulled your hair away from your face. His touch was so gentle, while he had just been seconds away from a brawl with Jake. His eyes bored deep into yours, somehow soft while yours were filled with fear.Â
âWeâre gonna keep you safe. Iâm not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me?â He was gripping hard at your shoulders now, talking like he was hyping himself up instead of you. âI need you to trust me. Do you trust me?â
âDanny⊠IâI donât even know youâŠâ you mumbled, your fight or flight beginning to kick in as the sounds of Jake banging loud things together in the bay echoed off the walls.Â
âYeah you do, you know me. You knew me a long time ago.â His eyes shot to Jake again, still loudly throwing tools into containers. Suddenly his face was close to yours, his grip on your arms now almost an embrace.Â
âIâm not a bad guy, Y/N. I swear Iâm not. Iâm justâŠâ he winced as he searched for the words. âListen, I like you, and even though youâve only been around a day or two, youâve been the only thing on my mind since the minute you pulled up at the shop, okay? You...you make me nervous. And people donât make me nervous.â He licked his lips as his hands gripped the sides of your head. âBut right now, Iâm asking you to trust me. If not completely, just until tomorrow, okay? Please?â He pleaded.Â
Fuck, did you have a choice?
You threw all caution to the wind as your mind fought against every red flag presenting itself. You nodded quickly. âOkay. Okay, shit.â you finally agreed.Â
Dannyâs expression fell straight to relief as he gripped his large, grease-covered hands over yours, pulling you back to their living quarters in a hurry.Â
âThen letâs go. We donât have much time.â
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