Sam cut his eyes away from the illuminated sheet of paper on his desk for the first time in hours. He’d lost track of time, per the usual. Save the soft sounds of some classic rock ballad drifting from the stereo across the room, and the sounds of pen to paper, Sam hadn’t realized how silent the room was. Her voice rang through the quiet like gentle bell and kissed his ears in the familiar way that sent shivers down his spine.
Setting his pen down (and choosing to wipe his ink stained fingertips), Sam couldn’t help but indulge in the chuckle rumbling deep from within his chest. He leaned back in his chair and turned to face the woman in the doorway, who, as usual, shot him a look of pure annoyance and crossed her arms over her chest.
Crossing his fingers behind his head, Sam smiled softly, “Hello to you too, Darlin’. How ya been? I’ve been fine, thanks for asking.
She dropped her arms to her sides and allowed her expression to soften just a bit.
“Hi, Sam.”
Allowing the door to close behind her, Mercedes stepped further into the tiny apartment. Her heels clicked domineeringly against the hardwood. Sam involuntarily licked his lips, making a mental note of the stark contrast between her presence and the simplistic decor behind her. His eyes fell to the white fur vest on her shoulders, and the way her dark curls swept across the elegant material. He noted the way her blouse fit snug against her chest, but seemed to float around her waist and hips. Her dark brown eyes burned into him with an intensity that he’d faced before, but not so recently that he’d grown used to it.
She looked so out of her element, a fact that slightly unsettled him. It was just even more of a reminder that she didn’t belong here. Nor did she really belong with him, yet here they were, face to face. And they’d been here multiple times before.
Choosing to sit at the stool by the island across the room, Mercedes rested her hands in her lap, then peered around the room as if searching for words.
So he broke the ice.
“To what do I owe this honor, Cedes?”
Her eyes locked on him and widened, almost as if she was surprised to see him still sitting there across from her.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a girlfriend? Well, two.”
Author's Note: I started writing this for Still Star Crossed Appreciation Month, but got side tracked and fell off because adult responsibilities. If I wrote everything I wanted to, it'd be miles longer.
Rosaline cursed at her cousin’s grave on the day of her funeral.
The clouds rolled in, dark and heavy with impending rain. The cold air nipped at her ankles through her pantyhose. She frowned at the lowering casket, guilty that she couldn’t protect the girl and angry that she wouldn’t listen. Aunt Giuliana dropped onto her knees in the grass beside the grave, and wailed as she reached aimlessly for her daughter’s ivory casket.
“Let me be with her! Please!” She cried as her husband knelt beside her and held her shaking form close, “They took my baby! Those bastards took my baby from me!”
He whispered something to her, but it was no use. She struggled against him, trying to pull him off of her.
“Let me be with my baby!” She screamed, “My Julie! My baby! I can’t do this without her!”
Livia turned away as a fresh pool of tears rolled down her cheeks, stifling a sharp gasp from the emotion bubbling in her chest. Rosaline stood firm, jaw clenched, staring down at the grave like it was the barrel of a smoking gun. She swallowed the lump in her throat, steeling herself for the public.
She told Juliet a thousand times to leave the boy alone. He was nothing but trouble, and her family wouldn’t accept them.
Everyone knew that she was there when Juliet was found. Nobody had the guts to ask her what happened. Maybe they were afraid of how she’d respond. Or maybe they were cautious enough to not get on the Capulet family’s bad side. Nonetheless, Rosaline remained firm in her silence. Even when Giuliana threatened her with violence. Even when she lost sleep and spent hours smoking on the fire escape of her tiny apartment. Even when she stared out into space and lost track of what she was doing. The days leading up to Juliet’s funeral melted into one another, becoming a long blur of gray and pale white and the occasional flash of guilty red splattered on the walls of her living space.
The ride back to the Upper East Side from Long Island was a quiet and tense one, save the occasional sniffle from Giuliana and the low whispers between Silvestro and his scary looking, scar-ridden associate. Rosaline and Livia sat side by side in the uncomfortable front seats beside the colored driver, making their status in the family apparent to everyone in the car. Rosaline wasn’t entirely sure Giuliana wouldn’t suddenly snap and lunge at her if she so much as glanced in her direction, so she was partially grateful for the distance. Instead, Rosaline leaned against the car door, watching the first few drops of the oncoming storm race down the window. She felt Livia slip her hand in hers and give it a small squeeze. Her younger sister had a knack for understanding when she was needed, but she never pried or pushed which made a huge difference. Livia was kind and forgiving in ways that Rosaline wasn’t. She was sure it was why her aunt was relatively nicer to her, and maybe even preferred that she was the new heir to the Capulet fortune. She was inclined to agree.
Anyone with sense could tell that this was a burden Rosaline didn’t want. The resentment towards Juliet for leaving her with this crept up the back of her neck and sat heavily on her shoulders, joined by guilt for being mad at a child for acting the part of a child.
“Could we listen to the radio?” Livia asked the driver, sweetly, “You can play it low, if you like.”
Moments later, jazz filled the tense car, cutting through the thick energy like a white hot knife. In the window’s reflection, Rosaline watched Livia close her eyes and allow herself to get lost in the melody. No doubt she was imagining being whisked onto a dancefloor with a handsome boy of high social stature. Rosaline wasn’t much of a dancer, but was a happy spectator whenever Liv managed to get her out at night. It was Livia who introduced her to Jazz. She became fast friends with their parents’ old Cotton Club peers and the up and coming musicians playing in the exclusive parts of the city. Despite what Liv said, Rosaline was inclined to believe these spirited men were filled to the brim with unrealistic optimism. Livia was determined to believe they were destined for fame and fortune, falling for one after the other with hopes of being some lucky musician’s ingenue. Everyone thought they were the next Cab Calloway. They couldn’t all be famous.
“For CHRIST’S SAKE, turn that off!” Giuliana spat from the back of the car, “We’re mourning my child’s death, not drinking gin in a run down alley!”
All three front seat occupants exchanged glances before the driver fidgeted with the dial, choosing to stop at a classical music station.
“Aaah...” Silvestro sighed, “now this is music. It reminds me of our trip to Vienna after the war. What year was that, honey?”
“‘24.” She mumbled, barely hiding her disinterest in the conversation.
“Mmm, yes. 1924. We were staying at Count Weiss’ estate. And his wife...uh...Jacqueline was it? She was there. We went to that wonderful little salon where the band played that one song. How did it go…?”
He hummed some nondescript tune that Rosaline didn’t recognize. Rosaline risked a glance over her shoulder. Of course he was drunk. At least he was a pleasant drunk.
She shifted her gaze, accidentally locking eyes with her uncle’s associate. He licked his lips at her.
She felt her eye twitch in disgust as she quickly faced the front of the car again.
--x--
Rosaline wasn’t surprised when Giuliana decided that she had to find her own way back home from the townhouse. It was dark, and the air was damp and cold from the late-autumn rain. People passed with their heads hiding beneath large umbrellas or soggy, heavy trench coats. The result of her hot comb treatment was devolving into a depressing mess of thick hair shrinking around her shoulders, as the wind turned her umbrella inside out.
Her aunt knew that she hated taking the train at night. This was punishment. She considered hailing a taxi, and then remembered her location. There was no way one would stop for her. The only other option was to walk across the width of the park. Her heels clicked across the slick pavement as cars passed, nearly splashing her every time they got too close to the curb. By the time she arrived at her apartment, she knew she looked like a drowned, miserable rat.
After stripping the soggy clothes off her cold skin, and bathing the filth of the day away, all she wanted to do was lay in bed and disassociate. Instead, she hung her clothing up to dry on the radiator, and climbed out onto the fire escape in one of her mother’s old long nightgowns. The rain finally stopped, but Rosaline was still careful to not get her clothes wet as she looked out at the passing cars below. It was well after midnight on a Sunday, and people were still out and about as if they had all the time in the world. She was almost jealous.
Rosaline held a Lucky Strike between her lips, and struck a match, shielding it from the breeze. She hadn’t had a smoke all day, and she’d convinced Livia that she kicked the habit. Something about the quiet of the night made her feel unbearably lonely.
Loneliness often led to past behaviors showing up like an old friend.
One of her father’s Jazz records played quietly from her bedroom. It was a low, melancholy song by a woman with a raspy voice. Nothing she recognized. But it was probably about love, or losing love, or never having love. She swallowed hard as she watched a gray plume of smoke escape her lips and float into the night sky.
“You know, you really shouldn’t smoke,” a voice called out from below, “It’s unbecoming for a woman of your magnitude.”
Rosaline groaned, and rolled her eyes. Not him. Not now.
“I suppose I should take up some other vices then. Maybe liquor and women?” She shot back.
Benvolio Montague grimaced, acknowledging the hypocrisy of his words. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched her from the sidewalk, “There’s that unwavering Capulet wittiness.”
“What do you want?” Rosaline said, clearly annoyed by his presence, “Don’t you have some shady characters to mingle with somewhere else?”
“I just…” something crossed his features, but he quickly pulled it back, “I’m sorry about Juliet. I heard the funeral was today. I would’ve come, but...you know.”
Rosaline took another drag from her cigarette and leaned up against the fire escape railing, “Yeah, I know.”
There was an awkward pause as they searched for the right words to say.
“I always did kind of like her,” Benvolio admitted, feebly, “She was a good kid. Kept her head in the books, unlike the rest of us. She didn’t deserve that. What happened, I mean.”
Rosaline said nothing but watched him carefully for a moment, trying to assess the situation.
“Thank you for your condolences. I’m sorry for your loss, too. But what’s the real reason you’re here? You don’t normally trek all the way uptown without a motive. Not when this could’ve been a telegraph.”
Benvolio tapped the side of his head and let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“There you go, being astute,” he sighed, “We gotta meet with Cal.”
Fuck.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Can’t it wait? I’ve just settled in for the night.”
“Yeah, sure. Let me just ring him up and let him know you’re a little drowsy. I’m sure he’d be obliged to move the meeting to whenever you’re available, Princess.” And there he was. The Ben she knew, all awkward pleasantries pushed aside. The normalcy was comfortable. “No, it can’t wait. Another fight broke out with one of your uncle’s men and one of my uncle’s men. Cal’s not fuckin’ happy. It’s makin’ his place look bad.”
She put out her cigarette, annoyed that she didn’t have time to light another before she got dressed, “Does Silvestro know?”
“No. Apparently Cal called him to get you, but the old man was drunk. My uncle told me, I figured I’d just come get you. You’re welcome, by the way.”
She rolled her eyes, but inwardly felt a sense of disappointment that Cal didn’t come get her himself. All things considered, she didn’t see why he’d avoid her. She licked her lips and stepped away from the railing.
“Let me get proper. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Hurry up. Cal’s already mad, we don’t want him to kill us.”
She almost argued that he would never kill anyone, but that was a bold statement that she wasn’t 100% confident in.
--x--
Escalus’ club looked different when it was empty. When the dancers were done, and the liquor was put away, and the tables were stacked and shoved in the corner, it looked nearly menacing. With the ornate sconces out for the evening, the low overhead lights cast shadows along the walls, making Cal’s men look much larger and more intimidating than usual. In comparison, the young man looked much more like a novice. It was a fact that he was well aware of, as he had to take over his father’s club and businesses after his untimely death. Rosaline could remember a time when there was a softness to his face and hands that made her stomach flip in place when she saw him. In a little over a year, she watched as his features sharped and his hands became dusted with bruises and scars.
When she entered the room and his eyes softened, she saw a slight hint of that boy she knew as a kid. It immediately hardened again when Benvolio sidled up beside her and his eyes flickered between the two. Either he knew something they didn’t know, or he was making a very strong assumption.
“Huh…” he gestured to them with his chin, “What’re the odds of you showing up together?”
Rosaline opened her mouth to protest, but Ben beat her to it with a snort.
“It was a favor. She had no way to get here. It was the least I could do, y’know? After today…” he drifted off and shoved his hands into his vest pockets.
Escalus eyed her carefully as if trying to find the right words, and took a deep breath.
“My condolences...to you both. It was awfully crummy what happened to those kids. And I’m not gonna pass the buck. It was fucked up. I should’ve been more on top of things and I wasn’t doing my job. I should’ve been taking care of y- of things.”
Rosaline caught his gaze and held it for a moment, before he swallowed hard and forced his eyes to sweep the room full of goons. They came from both families, some of whom Rosaline recognized and some she didn’t.
“That’s why I called you all here tonight. This shit has gotta stop! You are messin’ with my business,” he continued, his voice thick with authority. Rosaline bit her lower lip, surprised and mildly turned on by the bass in his tone, “and when you mess with my business, you mess with my money. And when you mess with my money, I get mad.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Rosaline saw Benvolio’s uncle slip in between the double doors, and stand beside his men.
“Ah, so you did decide to show up,” Escalus said, staring pointedly at the new arrival.
“My apologies, sir,” Damiano removed his hat and bowed his head, “I had some...stuff to take care of back home.”
“This,” Escalus motioned to him, “is more important than whatever cockeyed business you’ve got. Your men are out of control, and clearly Benvolio is the only one taking this seriously, considering he had time to swing by and get Rosaline before you even got here.”
“Well that’s hardly fair. Silvestro isn’t even here,” Damiano mumbled under his breath. In a flash Escalus was across the room and nose-to-nose with the elder man.
“Did I ask where Silvestro was? Nah, buddy, you’re only accountable for yourself and your men. When your shit goes belly up because of these yucks, you only have yourself to blame.”
Benvolio raised his brows, clearly as surprised by Escalus as Rosaline was.
“My deepest apologies, sir. I didn’t--I won’t speak out of turn, again.”
Escalus sized him up for a moment before backing off and returning to the front of the room, “Yeah. You might want to consider who funds your business ventures the next time you decide to do that,” he cleared his throat and readjusted his suit jacket, “Where were we? Right. Your family is giving me bad press. I can’t have classy parties interrupted by your interfamily troubles. Not when I have people to impress and goals to meet. It’s ruining my reputation.”
Rosaline didn’t see how this was her issue. She tried to stay out of Capulet business. Despite her rite to leadership by blood, the Capulets made it clear that she wasn’t exactly included in their affairs now that her father wasn’t around to advocate for her. And good riddance. She took the opportunity to glance over at Benvolio as Escalus scolded the group at large, and he looked to be deep in thought. His sharp jaw worked and his thick brows furrowed. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing: What did this have to do with either of them? Benvolio had been known to get into a few brawls. But since Romeo’s passing, he’d been a recluse.
“And so, after consulting with both heads of the family, I decided…” Escalus clasped his hands together, pulling Rosaline out of her stupor, “we’re gonna have a wedding.”
There was a long silence. No one really understood where he was going with this. Rosaline’s heart stopped at the thought of him being engaged to another woman so quickly after…
“I’m sorry,” Rosaline said, shaking her head, “whose wedding?”
Escalus forced a smile on his face that looked more like a grimace, “Yours. To Benvolio Montague.”
“Absolutely not!” Rosaline felt the lump in her throat grow, and her stomach dropped, “I never agreed to any of this! Neither of us did!” She turned to Benvolio for back up, but he continued to stare at the ground with a clenched jaw, “Benvolio did you know about this?!”
“Of course not,” he replied sharply, refusing to meet her eyes, “This is the first I’m hearing about it. Same as you.”
The men in the room whispered among one another at the news, and Rosaline looked around the room for a sympathetic face. Any sympathetic face. Silvestro caught her gaze and frowned, but stiffened his back.
“It’s for the good of the families,” he said, firm in his stance.
“Yeah…” Benvolio mumbled half-heartedly, “The good of the families.”
“This is madness!” Rosaline spat. Her panicked eyes found Escalus and fury built in her chest, “It’s nineteen forty-eight, god damn it! How dare you marry me off like it’s the Middle Ages? I deserve to have a say! I’m as important as any of you bastards. Don’t I matter? Doesn’t what I want matter?”
Escalus squinted at her. “Don’t be hysterical,” he spat, “It’s on my dime. You get to stay home. You don’t gotta work a day in your life. Benny boy here gets to look over both companies, and you just gotta relax. If anything, I’d say Benvolio’s getting the short end of the stick.”
Escalus knew. He knew she wanted to go to school and work at the library. He knew she had plans for her life. She watched as every dream she had vanished in front of her eyes. Benvolio said something in her defense, but it sounded like white noise. Her vision started to spin, and her lungs tightened. She turned on her heels and rushed from the room as fast as she could.
Summary: Bryce and Aurora get to know one another, which pushes our boy into unknown, cavity-inducing territory.
A/N: My number one rarepair that no one else ships. I wrote this because I was bullied by @thecapturedafrique into writing something. I haven't written anything for choices in quite some time, so this is... that something.
Bryce always believed that fawning--real, genuine, starry-eyed awe--was goofy. He could count on one hand the number of times a partner left him speechless, which was quite a feat. It wasn’t that he believed he was above it; he could never quite understand the position someone would have to be in to feel that way about someone else. But that damn Aurora Emery and her silent but deadly studious stare could bring any man to his knees. He told her as much. Multiple times, in fact. She’d laugh it off as just a huge joke, but Bryce needed her to know that he was being legit. It was important to him that she knew that about herself. Maybe she could reel it in and let him have control over himself for once.
There wasn’t a name for what they were--a fact that Bryce was okay with. At least he thought. Right now they were just comfortable in one another’s company. It’s not that he didn’t want more...the question crossed his mind more than once. But Aurora never once hinted at the fact that she was looking for anything more than companionship. She was blunt. If she wanted something serious, she definitely would’ve said so. Unfortunately, Edenbrook was filled to the brim with nosy fucks. And though he wasn’t necessarily one for hiding his attraction, he knew for a fact that the attention made Aurora uncomfortable. On more than one occasion, he had to tell people to back off when they made comments about “thawing the ice princess.” He would do anything in his power to protect her, if he could. He spent two months of Fridays with her, a ritual that just kind of happened without much planning. They’d talk for hours, and more than once he’d woken up in her bed, with his arms wrapped around her and her head on his chest.
So when Aurora texted him that Friday afternoon about a change of plans, curiosity plagued him.
Bryce: Change of plans, huh? What’s up?
Three bubbles popped up. And then:
Aurora: I wanted to do something different. Same meeting place?
Bryce: Always.
Bryce: Am I allowed to know what that something different is? Or is it a surprise?
Aurora: It wasn’t a surprise.
Aurora: But now I think it is.
Bryce: You’re killin me. Do you know what you do to me, Rory?
There was a long pause as she typed. And then stopped. And then typed again.
Aurora: Where have I heard that before? ;)
And there it was. That boldness that seemed to show up at the most inopportune times and sent a rushing wave of warmth through him. It climbed up the back of his neck and made him huff out a sigh in the middle of the cafeteria.
Bryce: Careful, I might have to take you for a ride in the parking lot. Again.
Aurora: Don’t make threats you can’t follow through with, daddy.
Despite the bravado, Bryce was clearly flustered. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to out-Bryce him. But here he was: red faced and shifty-eyed in the middle of a crowded room. He placed his phone face-down and took a long sip from his water bottle, willing his blood to return to his brain and away from his head. When he was sure that he could resume the conversation without hunting Aurora down for sport, he picked the phone back up.
Bryce: Alright, Miss Emery. I’ll play your games. See you later?
Aurora: xxoo
It was all so corny, he thought to himself. Reading and re-reading her texts, or scrolling through her Instagram to see her even when she wasn’t around...these were actions that he had NEVER considered remotely Bryce-like. Yet there he was, spending his free time thinking about what he’d say to her when he saw her at the end of the day. Thoughts of her were interrupted only when he needed all of his attention to keep people’s organs in place. Or when he needed to write a report. But when all was said and done, his thoughts drifted right back to her. He blinked, and it was the end of the day. He felt his hands shake, and wondered what the fuck he had to be nervous about.
They’d spent so much time together. They were practically together. Weren’t they?
“God damn it,” he muttered to himself, as he ran his fingers through his hair and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. It always looked good, but for some reason--today of all days--it wouldn’t cooperate, “You are Bryce Fucking Lahela. You don’t get flustered. Jesus.”
He shook his arms out, rolled his shoulders, and took a deep breath.
“Alright,” he sighed, “Let’s go see our woman.”
Aurora looked amazing leaning against the hood of his car. She was dressed in black jeans and a simple tee shirt, with her hair in a bun. But he wanted to kiss her right there in front of everyone, PDA be damned. Her face lit up when she noticed him, and he nearly tripped over his feet as he walked across the parking lot, causing him to pause his steps. Her brows furrowed in concern.
God she was so cute.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking in an attempt to save face. Because of course he did.
“Are you alright, Lahela?” She asked, raising a hand to his forehead, “You’re clammy.” Bryce gently grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it absentmindedly, resulting in a slow grin gracing her pretty features.
“I’m good. I just showered, so my hair is a little wet,” her fingers intertwined with his, and his voice caught in his chest. He cleared his throat, “I-uh...I didn’t want to smell like...well you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She bit her lower lip and glanced over his shoulder before leaning up to place a small peck on his lips. It’d been something she’d done numerous times before. But today it felt different. He couldn’t place what the difference was, but as she pulled back from him, he leaned forward to kiss her again. She smiled against his lips, and placed a hand on his chest.
“Down boy,” she laughed, “save some of that energy for later on.”
His first thought was to say “fuck later on” and take her on the hood of his car. The louder second thought reminded him that she wasn’t going anywhere. That this was different. And he nodded, taking a mental step back.
“So what’s the surprise?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
His hands snaked around her and he rested his forehead on her shoulder. The action was surprisingly intimate, all things considered, “I hate when people say that.”
“You’d think it’d make you ask the question less, then.”
“Hardy-har, smartass.” When she reached up to scratch the back of his head with her nails, he groaned involuntarily and squeezed her, lifting his head to look up at her, “We need to get out of here, and fast.”
Something flashed across her features, and she raised a brow.
“Alright.”
The drive to this supposed secret was a long one. Using Aurora’s GPS directions, the trip led them down numerous winding roads, across a bridge, and through some trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess she was leading him to his own demise. Maybe she was softening up by holding his hand while he steered. And badly singing along to some 90s pop song was just a plot to let his guard down. It was working. She could brandish a knife, and he wouldn’t even notice.
The final destination was a large clearing filled with parked cars, and a large screen projecting some early 00s movie trailers. People milled around, drinking and eating large buckets of popcorn.
“Well shit,” Bryce grinned as he pulled up to an empty spot between two standing speakers, “You brought me to a drive-in?”
Aurora was already unbuckling her seatbelt, “You said you never got to have a normal high school experience. So, I figured we’d make up for lost time. Only if you want to. If you think this is corny, we can do something else.” She paused and turned to him with wide eyes, “You don’t think this is lame, do you?”
Bryce cupped her face in his hands and pressed a loud smack of a kiss on her lips, “Rory, this is perfect.”
As they stood in line waiting to order movie snacks, he looked over at Aurora to find her deep in thought. Her brows were furrowed as she read the menu, and her lips were slightly pursed just begging to be kissed. She muttered something about the prices staying the same for 10 years, completely unaware of the effect she had on him just by existing. Knowing he had a preference for slashers, Aurora brought him to see a double-feature of Scream and I Know What You Did Last Summer which were both favorites of his. He was surprisingly touched that she remembered. He assumed that she may have forgotten those throwaway comments he made. After all, he wasn’t used to people remembering the small details of his life, and he didn’t mention them often. He’d been working so hard for her trust that he didn’t even realize she’d been working to earn his as well, in her own Emery kind of way.
“Caramel corn?” She suddenly said, and he blinked at her in confusion.
“What?”
“Do you want caramel corn? Or kettle corn? I know you like mixing the salty and the sweet. So I’ll get cheddar,” she pointed at the menu, “And you can get the caramel. And we’ll just…” She made a weird gesture, insinuating mixing the two in a bucket. He randomly felt a pang in his stomach and he had to stop himself from doubling over.
Oh.
“Caramel is perfect,” Bryce said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer, “We can do whatever you want.”
Oh no.
She threw him a funny look, but shook her head and chuckled softly, “Okay then.”
Bryce followed her back to the car like a lost puppy, carrying the popcorn while she carried the slurpees, and he felt the pang in his stomach turn into a dull flutter. Seeing Aurora out of her element was something he had to learn to get used to. Within the walls of Edenbrook, she was perpetually serious. You’d be hard pressed to find her laughing or shaking from nerves. She remained calm and level-headed, always logical, and rarely sentimental unless she was with a patient. The first time he saw Aurora lighten up was when she was among their friend group. Though she seemed partially guarded, in hindsight, it was the first time Bryce saw her fully smile. He recognized that she was beautiful, even then. But there was something about the way that she had a smile reserved especially for him that made that smile pale in comparison. There, in the car, she shook the popcorn in a bag vigorously with the dorkiest grin on her face. He wondered if anyone else ever had the chance to see her like this, and he hoped to God they hadn’t.
“You’re gonna tear the bag, Rory,” he said, laughing along with her, “I’ve never seen someone so violent with popcorn. You should’ve just let me do it. With these arms,” he flexed and she rolled her eyes, “It would’ve taken a lot less time.”
“There’s a method to this,” she shook it one last time for good measure, “You don’t want a pile of one flavor at the bottom. It has to be evenly distributed, come on. You should know this.”
She unrolled the bag opening and tilted it in his direction, “See. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re the genius here.”
“Thank you.” She popped a piece of caramel corn in her mouth.
One thing Aurora failed to share with him was that she was afraid of slashers. She clung to his arm during the tense scenes, hiding her face in his shoulder and jumping when people were killed. During the low moments, Bryce would pull her close and whisper film facts to her, hoping that the realism would make the movies a little more palatable. As the time passed, she relaxed, leaning back into the seat and only slightly jumping when someone died. Her hand slipped into his, and he could feel her pulse race. By the time I Know What You Did Last Summer was over, and Scream was about to begin, half of the popcorn was on the floor from Aurora constantly jumping.
“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t like these? We could’ve seen something else, Aurora,” Bryce asked.
She shrugged, scooping small handfuls of popcorn and throwing them out of the open window, “I work in a hospital. I thought I could handle it. Plus, I know you like them...I just wanted to do something fun.”
“I don’t think watching you freak out over a killer in a fishing village is fun,” Bryce half-joked, “Even though I did like having you curled up under me. That was a plus.”
She playfully hit him on his arm.
“I’m serious though,” Bryce said, turning to her, “next time, we can do something we both like.”
“I promise, it’s not that serious,” she shrugged, “I did this all the time in high school. It’s par for the course.”
He felt the uncharacteristic sting of minor jealousy, but quickly pushed the feeling away.
“So you just brought cute guys to the drive-in all the time? I didn’t know teen Aurora was such a player.”
She snorted and shook her head, taking a large sip from her slurpee, “Never that. I was in the science club and boys scared me. I came here with my friends. Maybe my parents.” There was a moment of pause and she swirled the straw around in her cup, “You’re the first guy I’ve ever been here with. So I guess this is like a high school redo for me, too. So...thanks for coming here with me.”
Her voice sounded so soft, and he realized she was sharing more about herself without him having to reassure her that it was safe to do it. Without thinking, Bryce leaned across the passenger seat and kissed her, pulling a soft gasp from her lips. His large hand cupped her chin, and she walked her fingers around the back of his neck. She tasted like Blue Raspberry syrup and smelled like sweet coconut and vanilla shampoo. When she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, she smiled at him and pushed some loose hair away from his face.
“What was that for?”
“I just felt like it. I don’t know. I…” he swallowed hard and shut his eyes, “I think…”
Fuck.
He opened his eyes to see her watching him with a concerned expression on her face, “You think…? Did I do something--”
Summary: Dionne spends some quality time with a new friend and reevaluates her morals.
A/N: I have a type. And it’s jocks with a heart of gold.
——————————————————————
Dionne learned quickly that Carter Jackson didn’t have one malicious bone in his body.
When he knocked on the door of her room at 1 in the afternoon on a Saturday, she expected the worst. And, honestly, she kind of deserved it. Before her arrival to Belvoire, Carter probably had a very easy time with Poppy and his friends. All it took was a very public smooch and a dance routine to make it all come crumbling down.
She expected fireworks. Maybe even fire and brimstone.
Instead, she opened the door to find the 6’2 football star staring at his feet like a punished Dickensian orphan. The corners of his mouth were pulled into a deep frown, and his brows remained pinched as if he was in deep concentration. She couldn’t help but find the expression adorable, but kept her inappropriate opinion to herself.
“Carter?” She questioned, leaning against the door, “What’s going on?”
“Am I stupid?” He asked, finally looking up to meet Dionne’s eyes.
She instantly remembered an excerpt from a book she read as a child about how people with good thoughts had the loveliest faces. Carter was no exception. He radiated a softness in his eyes that made Dionne’s heart melt.
Not completely. But just enough to make her want to hug him. Instead, she mirrored his frown and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Of course you aren’t stupid. Why would you say that about yourself?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, choosing to focus on his feet once again, “I don’t know. Poppy always said I was when she got mad at me. I know she was just mad, and she probably didn’t mean it. But she’s not the only one to ever say it. And...I don’t know, Di, this time I think I really fucked up.”
If Dionne was heartless, she would ask why he was coming to her with his existential crisis. If anything, she was the last person he should be seen with after Poppy’s post-game meltdown. But, against her better judgment, Dionne stepped back and allowed him a way to pass into her dorm room.
“Come sit with me, I’m about to make some lunch,” she offered him the warmest smile she could, letting Carter know that he was safe in her space. The minute he crossed the threshold, his eyes lit up.
“Hey, it smells good in here. Like sugar cookies.”
He looked around the decorated living room, searching for the source of the scent before Dionne pointed at the candle on the counter.
“It kind of reminds me of my grandmother’s house,” she explained, a more genuine smile gracing her features, “A nice scented candle makes any place feel a little more comfy.”
Carter eyed the large Yankee Candle with raised brows, “The Alphas could totally use that in the bathroom!” He paused, “I hope one of us doesn’t get fucked up and try to eat it though.”
At this, a giggle bubbled out of Dionne that she would be ashamed of under other circumstances. It was the kind of giggle you give when you’re 12 and the person you like makes a terrible joke. Was Carter’s comment that funny? No. Was he trying to be funny? Dionne wasn’t sure. But damn it she was going to giggle anyway. The sweet smile that spread across his face made the nauseating gesture worth it.
But it was time to get to the meat of the problem. She sat on the kitchen barstool and patted the seat across from her, “Let’s chat, Jackson.”
He blinked as if waking up from a daze, “Right, I did come here for that reason.”
Sitting across from Dionne, Carter shifted a bit uncomfortably and shoved his hands back in his pockets.
“Now,” Dionne crossed one leg over the other—not for any particular reason—and noticed his eyes flicker down to her thighs before focusing back on her face, “What makes you think you’re stupid? You do well in class don’t you?”
He sucked his teeth and shrugged, “I do alright. But what if they’re just passing me to keep me on the team?”
“Well, what if they’re not?” Dionne gently challenged. The look he shot her screamed “Are you kidding, Di?” and she continued on, “I’m serious. What if you’re actually doing well?”
Carter laughed bitterly, “Poppy has a point, sometimes. She talks about things—finances, social stuff—I don’t always understand it. I want to. But...” he drifts off, as if shuffling through his thoughts, “I’m used to being called stupid. But this time I think Poppy actually meant it. I know I sometimes get things wrong, but this time I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Dionne listened carefully as Carter sorted out his thoughts, and laid them out on the table for her. She was angry at the ways people made him feel mentally inferior, while banking on his body for social and financial gain. He concluded with a deep, tired sigh.
After some thought, Dionne finally responded in a gentle, measured tone, “Carter, there’s more than one way to be intelligent. What you’ve just expressed to me is a deep sense of emotional intelligence that most people take their whole lives to figure out. Your teammates love and respect you. Your brothers respect you. You’re a natural leader and an honest person.” She smiled at him, “Professor Kingsley even told me that they really enjoyed your time in their class.”
Carter’s eyes widened, “They said that?”
She nodded. It was half-true. Kingsley admired that Carter was so easy to get along with, and seemed to genuinely enjoy learning even if he found it difficult. He maintained a C-average in that class, but she wasn’t going to bring that up now.
There was a brief silence between them as Dionne daintily picked at her chicken salad. She wanted to devour it, but she kind of hated eating in front of people. She doubted Carter would really care, but...
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and suddenly much closer to her now than he was a few moments before. She fought the instinctual urge to raise a questioning brow, as he still seemed lost in his own thoughts and completely unaware of the action.
“I don’t know why Poppy doesn’t like you,” he said, locking eyes with her, “But you seem really cool. Like someone I could talk to. Zoey, too! But mostly you.” He twisted back and forth on the swivel chair, “Sometimes, it gets super hard being one of the few black people on this campus. Like, I love my bros. They’re the best. But it’s really nice having you around.”
“Well,” Dionne began, “Maybe I’m not as cool as you think I am. Maybe I’m just as bitchy as Poppy is, and you just don’t know it.”
She was half-joking, but he seemed surprised by the statement.
“Poppy really isn’t that bad,” he returned his hands to his pockets and leaned away from her. Back in defense mode, she guessed, “She might be kind of mean sometimes. And she yells a lot when she’s stressed. But when she’s chill and not mad, she’s actually really fun to be around. She just doesn’t really handle anger well.”
Understatement of the century.
Considering how much Poppy tore down this guy’s self esteem, it was wonder why he was so willing to jump to her defense. Would she do the same for him? Every time she saw them together, she was more focused on maintaining her dignity than enjoying the people she surrounded herself with. It had to be a lonely experience for both Poppy and Carter.
“Do you love her?” The question slipped out before Dionne could stop it, and she regretted it immediately when another frown pulled at Carter’s lips, “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. You don’t have to answer that.”
He shrugged and fidgeted with something in his pocket, choosing to avoid eye contact, “I think I do...My parents do. Everyone says she’s good for me. I think I’m good for her too.”
Dionne was probably about to step onto a land mine, but it was a risk she was willing to take.
“Someone who makes you doubt your worth in the world isn’t someone who’s good for you,” she stated, slowly.
“But what if I’m not much better than she is?”
She smirked, “Copying my lines now?”
He returned another half-hearted chuckle, “I mean it, Dionne. If Poppy is as horrible as people say, and I love her anyway, what does that say about me?”
She considered this for a moment. If Carter could see the way Poppy spoke to people, and still chose her over and over, what did that say about him? Did he ignore it if it wasn’t directed at him? Did he make excuses?
“It says that you’re human, I guess,” she finally responded. She noticed his soft sigh of relief, and made a mental note for later, “Sometimes, when you love someone, you’re willing to overlook the flaws because you want to see the best in them. You know?”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience?”
Dionne stiffened and avoided his gaze, which now seemed determined to burn a hole through the side of her face.
“No,” she quickly stated, “I’ve never loved anyone.”
“You’re telling me you can give me this advice without any experience,” he chided, “and I’m supposed to believe you?”
“I’ve never been in a relationship,” suddenly her salad was super interesting. She bit into a crisp cucumber slice as Carter considered her answer.
“Hmm...that’s surprising,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, “I mean, I think you’re really cute and really smart. It’s hard to believe you haven’t been with anyone at all.”
It was true. Dionne was cute. Anyone with eyes could see that. And she had her reasons for remaining single. But the gentle earnestness in Carter’s words and expression made the heat rise in her cheeks. He seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on people, Dionne specifically. It made her feel...things.
She didn’t like it.
She cleared her throat and shrugged, casually, “I have standards.”
Just as Carter opened his mouth to respond, his phone vibrated dully in his pocket. He quickly glanced at the message, and his shoulders slumped, “Damn. I gotta head out, I forgot I had to meet with the coach before practice. Can we pick this up again, later?”
“Sure, of course,” Dionne nodded her understanding, “let me walk you out.”
As they walked side by side to her front door, she could admit to herself that this conversation made her feel something akin to guilt. Maybe. Here he was, being so sweet to her, after she used him just to get under his now ex-girlfriend’s skin. That wasn’t her initial intent. Kissing him and asking for his help was simply a means to an end, but she never considered how he’d become collateral damage. And she definitely didn’t factor in this slowly blossoming fondness for him.
As he passed through the doorway, she reached for his arm, “Wait.”
He raised a brow at her, “What’s up?”
“I just wanna say sorry,” she swallowed, “For everything that happened.”
“What happened?”
“You know...kissing you. Asking you to help. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’m sorry it ended up this way.”
He stared at her for what felt like an absurdly long period of time before opting to lean against the door frame, “Dionne, you have nothing to be sorry about. I may not be Professor Einstein or whatever, but I know that everything happened because I wanted it to. Do you understand?”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
She studied the intensity of his face—that goddamn face—in complete silence. For once, she was at a loss for words. She nodded, latching her teeth into her lower lip. His eyes followed the action, and he grinned at her before pushing away from the door.
“I’ll see you around?” There he was again. Sweet Carter. Golden Boy Carter. Maybe he wasn’t entirely ignorant of the effect he had on her. That made him a problem.
Rating: M (Drug Use, Substance Abuse, Violence, Self-Inflicted Violence)
Characters: Dark!Liam Rys x Dark!Lyra Frasier (MC) x Dark!Drake Walker
Summary: Fresh out of school and trying to figure things out, Lyra Frasier spends her weekdays going to a job she hates and her weekends in a drug fueled haze. And then she meets golden boy Liam. Lyra soon realizes that the violent underbelly of New York City’s elite may be more than she can handle.
Author’s Note: I haven’t updated this thing since uh......last year? I’m bad at making a writing schedule for myself. I think, the way TRR has been going as a series, I just haven’t had the motivation. But when I separate this world from that one, it helps a bit more.
Honeymoon Series
ooo. Prologue.
oo1. Honeymoon.
oo2. Midnight City.
--x--
oo3. C.R.E.A.M.
It was bad enough that Liam’s father was ill; he also had to be stubborn as fuck.
Liam winced as his ailing father lifted the shaking glass of whiskey to his lips, determined to keep drinking despite what the doctor and his wife told him about the effects on his body. Liam cleared his throat, earning a single passive glance from his father across the desk.
“Oh come on,” Constantine groaned, licking the droplets of liquor from his chin, “Not you, too. I don’t need anymore shit about what I do in my free time.”
Unwilling to take advice from those he deemed inexperienced, Constantine was an unwavering force in a world of deeply complicated decisions. Liam patiently rested his folded hands in his lap, training his expression to convey as much stoicism as he could in the given circumstance.
“You don’t seem to understand that this,” he motioned towards the glass, “is the reason why Sebastian Clark was able to fly under your radar for so long? What would’ve happened if Walker and I hadn’t figured him out? Who knows what he could’ve gotten away with--”
“That rotten, coked out fucker,” Constantine spat with a wave of the hand, “Good riddance. I didn’t need him poisoning my ranks with his bullshit.”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Liam leaned forward in his seat, speaking slowly to emphasize his next point, “We don’t know that he hasn’t. And the fact that he was in your ranks for as long as he had should be worrisome. Who knows what else is going on that we don’t know about.”
“My men are loyal to me,” Constantine stated plainly, “One bad apple doesn’t always spoil the lot.”
At the age of 67, he’d been away from the action for quite some time. Evidence of a hard youth decorated his face and body in the form of scars and bones that didn’t quite heal correctly. Liam couldn’t remember a time when his father didn’t look tired. If he hadn’t seen a photo of a young Constantine with his own eyes, he’d believe the man just came into this world with a shock of white hair and bloodshot eyes. His stepmother half-joked that Liam’s older brother, Leo, caused their father to gray prematurely with his gambling and sex addictions.
On the other hand, Leo had to get it from somewhere.
Liam watched his father struggle to take another sip from his glass before averting his gaze to a family photo on his father’s desk. Teenage Justin and Liam sat side-by-side, unsmiling, with neatly pressed suits on in front of their equally serious fathers. Why Constantine kept that particular photo on his desk, Liam never understood. Nothing about it exuded warmth.
“Did Justin ever talk about a girl around you?” Liam suddenly asked, refocusing on his father who swirled his whiskey in deep thought.
“A girl?” He repeated in thought, “Once or twice. Usually he was asking advice on how to keep them tamed, you know?”
Constantine attempted a conspiratorial smile that Liam didn’t reciprocate.
“Did he mention any specific names?” Liam pressed on, “Or descriptors?”
Constantine raised a brow and sat the sweating glass on a wooden coaster, “What is this about?”
What was this about? Liam wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the girl, Lyra, that intrigued him. How was she able to dip in and out of their world so easily without leaving any footprints behind? Who did she know?
After dropping her off back home the previous afternoon, Liam did some quick research into who she was. Aside from a few high school choir competition press reels, she was an otherwise ordinary woman.
“Well I...” Liam chose his words carefully, “ran into Justin at the bar, talking to a girl. You know we never really see him with anyone. So I was just curious.”
There was a brief pause between the two men, and the grin returned to Constantine’s face, “A hot piece of ass, huh? Thinking of getting in there?”
Liam said nothing, but fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. His father wasn’t technically wrong. But god damn if the wording didn’t make him feel like the grossest piece of shit.
He decided to drop the subject for another time.
“Sorry to push us off topic, Dad,” Liam quickly corrected, “But, back to my original point...how do you know for sure Clark was the only shady one in the group?”
Constantine considered this, tapping his pen on the wooden desktop, “What reason would I give them to turn their backs on me? I’ve been with these men for well over 30 years, I fed them,” he counted on his fingers, “clothed them, put their kids through school, made them dukes in their own respects. They made their names on my back, and they think they’re gonna fuck me over!”
The sudden exclamation caused the man to cough violently into his arm and then into a handkerchief. Liam instinctively jumped to his feet, and rushed across the room to fetch a glass of water for his father.
“I’m fine!” Constantine croaked, attempting to catch his breath, “I just got a bit overexcited.”
Despite his protests, Constantine took the glass and sipped from it slowly. It hurt Liam to see his father deteriorating so quickly. A part of him felt like Constantine believed himself to be invincible. A smaller part of Liam felt like his father was simply just giving up. He had to put on an air of confidence, as he was at the top of the pyramid and could not show weakness. But as he grew older, cracks in the foundation began to form. Cracks that Liam had been working to seal.
Liam loved his father. There was no doubt about that. But every day the work grew more difficult. Liam could almost envision the empire crumbling at his father’s feet, all because he was too stubborn to fix the loose bricks.
As if reading his mind, Constantine sat the glass down and looked over his son, “You do know that I love you, right, kiddo?”
There was a faraway look in his eyes, a look Liam saw once in a while. And he always wondered where Constantine went when that happened.
“Yeah, I know, dad.”
Sadness darkened his father’s features, “Despite the issues that your mother and I had,” he cleared his throat, “I did love her. And I think you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m always going to be proud of you.”
A pit formed in Liam’s stomach and he reached across to grab his father’s hand, “Hey, what are you not telling me?”
And just like that, Constantine switched the darkness off, a confident grin returning to his face. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“A man can’t tell his kid he appreciates him, anymore? Lighten up, Liam.”
--x--
Liam sat in the garage of his apartment building to smoke and attempt at shuffling through his thoughts. Maybe it was counterproductive. An hour after leaving Constantine’s office, Liam learned of another potential fuck up in his father’s ranks. Someone was making trade deals on the low, and informing a rival company of some arms delivery pick up spots before they arrived for a cut of the profit. He passed the message along to Drake, who responded with the same concerns regarding Constantine’s failing leadership.
Liam was only one man. Though he was sure he didn’t feel an ounce of the pressure his father did, the stress he felt nearly crippled him sometimes. He briefly allowed his mind to wander to Lyra and what she was doing. Did she know how much he envied her life? She didn’t answer to anyone, she could leave the city if she wanted to, she never had to constantly look over her shoulder. Lyra carried herself with the air of freedom he could only dream about. Clutching his phone in tatted knuckles, he almost considered texting her. But truly, what would he even say?
“Hey, I know we only spoke once and you gave me your number because you wanted to pay me back for the gas (which you still don’t have to do). But what does freedom feel like?”
Right now, Liam imagined she was laying across the secondhand sofa in some old college sweatshirt, watching YouTube, her mind a thousand miles away from him. He’d never even seen her apartment. But he had a feeling she had a lot of plants and a collection of decorated whiskey bottles on her kitchen counter. She seemed like the type. He caught himself chuckling at the thought and frowned. Ideally, he’d just let her go. He could never bring her into this world, she was too good for it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could grow to like her.
The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, sharply pulling him from a moment of escapism he didn’t even know he needed.
“Hello?” Liam answered, attempting to mask his disappointment.
“Idon’tknowwhathappened! Idon’tknow!” A shrill voice cried on the other end between sobs. Liam pulled the phone from his face, and realized it was his father’s assistant, Penelope, calling from an unknown number. Alarm bells went off in Liam’s head, and he turned the ignition in his car.
“Pen, what happened?” He asked, sitting up in his seat.
“I just came in and he was....! I don’t know what happened, Liam! I was gone for an hour!”
“What. Happened?” Liam asked, again. His heart began to thud in his ears, and he gripped the steering wheel, “Just fucking tell me. Spit it out-”
Characters: Dionne Hughes (MC) vs. Poppy Min-Sinclair
Rating: T+ (mild crude humor and swearing)
Summary: Dionne Hughes arrives late with Starbucks. (canon divergent)
Authors Note: I thought the character’s backstory and introductory chapter was played out, and so I changed it. Because reasons. It’s the best I could do after two chapters.
------------------------------
Dionne immediately clocked the lack of diversity on campus, and inwardly cursed her father for not talking her out of applying. Of course they’d throw all the brown kids on the cover of the university booklet. And, of course, she didn’t bother to look up the statistics. She was blinded by the fancy dorms and the state-of-the-art AV Studio. It was far too late to turn back now. Her parents were already headed back to Westchester, and all of the transfer papers were finalized.
Stupid Dionne. Stupid, Stupid Dionne. She should’ve just kept her ass in community college.
The late summer sun beat down on her skin, and she could feel the sweat rolling down the back of her neck from the heat. Or the nerves? Probably both. After trudging her luggage from the registration building and across the quad, Dionne paused to catch her breath.
“Okay,” she sighed, “Where is this building?”
Belvoire’s campus was the perfect mix of regal and modern with the buildings modeled after beautiful classic European architecture, with elements of Silicon Valley sprinkled throughout. And while her former college wasn’t exactly broke, she recognized the huge jump in quality.
After wrapping her braids up in a bun and basking in the feel of the breeze on her neck, Dionne scrolled through the details of the move-in process.
“Are you lost?” A sugary sweet voice asked, before she felt a sharp tap on the shoulder. Peeling her eyes from her phone, Dionne was face to face with a tall, slender blonde woman dressed head to toe in expensive looking, bright pink clothing. On her right was another blonde, shorter than the first, in an almost identical outfit in blue. On her left was a woman with blue hair dressed in all black, chewing gum and tapping away at her phone.
“Uh...yeah,” Dionne responded after giving the trio a quick once-over, “I was actually looking for-”
“The projects?” The blonde interjected, a smile still plastered on her face, “You seem very confused. The Bronx is actually across the river.”
The shorter blonde giggled, “Nice one, Poppy.”
“Yikes,” the one in all black merely raised her brows, choosing to keep her eyes trained on her phone.
Of course her name was Poppy. She looked like a Poppy.
Dionne dropped her hands to her sides, exasperated that she had to smack someone within her first 2 hours on the campus.
“So this is how you want your first impression to be?” She asked, shoving her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “You don’t even know me.”
“I know all about you, new girl. I know you don’t belong here. Clearly the admissions process is getting far too lax,” Poppy eyed Dionne from head to toe, and frowned, “Can you even afford to be here? You don’t look like it.”
What the hell was her problem?
“Listen, Popcan...Poptart...whatever your stupid name is,” Dionne waved the name away like a bad smell, “I don’t have time for your bullshit. I just wanna get settled, and we can pick this up at a later time, okay?”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Poppy sized her up, and the action caught her off guard. She didn’t expect this skinny rich girl to invade her personal space. Poppy definitely seemed like the type to let others fight her battles for her, “I can make your life easy or I can make it a living hell, so watch what you say to me.”
For a second--a millisecond maybe--Dionne felt a bit of fear. The two girls at Poppy’s side didn’t look the tiniest bit surprised, and she could feel the eyes of passing students watching the scene from afar. Was this normal? Did this girl regularly terrorize students on campus? Even those she hardly knew? Dionne simply stared, confused about this sudden onset of aggression that seemed to stem from an unknown, deep-rooted place.
Poppy smirked, “Nice meeting you, New Girl. It’s going to be a great year.” As she shoved past, she threw over her shoulder, “And try working on your enunciation, maybe you’ll fit in here.”
Dionne Hughes should’ve kept her mouth closed.
Maybe the rest of her junior year would’ve gone on smoothly.
Maybe she could’ve flown under the radar.
Maybe all eyes wouldn’t have been on her.
But as she watched Poppy walk away after insulting her speech, manner of dress, and race, Dionne chose to bite the bullet.
Calling out to her retreating form, Dionne shouted across the quad, “I could fuck your dad and make you my new step daughter...that seems like an easier way to fit in!”
Characters: Jasmine Archer (F!MC) x Beckett Harrington
Warnings: Uh….
Authors Note: “Why?” You ask as you read this. Because I can, and because I want to. And this is a birthday treat to myself.
Word Count: 1.5K
--
There were few things in the world that made me nervous.
Well...”few” is a lie. There were numerous things that made me nervous, but very few made me feel the way Jasmine did. I shoved a sweaty palm in my pocket, straightened my back, and strode across campus with an air of confidence my family name should’ve provided me. I could remember the shock, disappointment, and slight relief I felt when I told her my name and she quirked that cute eyebrow of hers in confusion. For once, I thought, I could just be Beckett and not exist in the shadows of my family. She saw me for who I was, and still chose to be around me.
It didn’t matter that the others didn’t really know me, all that mattered was that she did. Sometimes, she would sit with the group, deep in conversation, and turn to smile at me. It was a smile I knew she reserved specially for me. Her nose would crinkle, and her brown eyes would send waves of warmth melting the coldest corners of my soul. The rest of the conversation was redundant, I just wanted her to keep looking at me. Talking to me. I wanted to take care of her.
Then other days...
Other days she would sit next to the meathead and smile at him instead. Granted, they weren’t comparable to the ones she gave me. She was probably just being nice. After all, she was naturally kind to most--a fact I loved about her. But when the jock threw an arm around her or pulled her close to whisper in her ear, I could feel my temple throb with disdain. She had to know what these actions were doing to me. Bitterness made me distance myself from the group, because I couldn’t bear to see them together. I knew that was what the jock intended: to get me out of the picture so Jasmine would have no choice but to concede to his wishes.
Or she was just using Griffin to make me jealous. And it was working.
As I approached Jasmine by the fountain in the center of the quad, my step faltered when I noticed Griffin standing by her side with an arm around her. Damn it to hell.
I considered turning around and going back the way I came. But this was a test. Jasmine was testing me to see if I’d finally make a move. Damn it, I was going to pass.
When I was close enough to smell the floral perfume resonating from her soft, curly hair, I reached out and nervously tapped her on the shoulder. The smile she gave me in return radiated a brightness and radiance so intense, I chose to avert my eyes in a futile attempt to collect my thoughts. After a deep breath, I soldiered on.
“Good afternoon, Jasmine,” I briefly glanced over at Griffin, “May I please speak with you, in private?”
“Sure, Beckett!” Jasmine gently nudged the jock with her shoulder, “I’ll catch you later?”
He raised a brow at me before whispering something in her ear and kissing her on the cheek. As he swaggered away, I felt my stomach clench. I hoped the disgust wasn’t evident on my face. He couldn’t know he had the ability to get under my skin. I took Griffin’s place beside her at the fountain’s edge, trying my best not to fidget with my hands. Confidence was key. She would never say no to a confident man.
“What’s going on?” She asked, now giving me her full attention. For a moment my mind went blank and I couldn’t put words together. This was Jasmine, she cared about me. This should be easy.
Out with it, Beckett.
“I was thinking about...us...” I watched her carefully for any hint of anticipation on her face, but I was met with confusion. I wasn’t being clear enough, “Well, I was thinking about you. And me. And we spend a lot of time together. I know you’ve been waiting for me to take the lead on this, as you often do with most things. I just want you to know that I find you most tolerable, and that you are comparable to me in ambition and intelligence--a fact I find very attractive. I would be honored if you would accompany me to dinner tonight?”
There was a long pause. Maybe she didn’t expect me to ask so soon. It was the first time I’d rendered her speechless, and I nearly pat myself on the back until I saw her expression shift into one of intense discomfort.
“Beckett,” she began slowly, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “I don’t know what to say--”
“We’ve been close for a while now,” I reached out and grabbed her hand, and for a moment I felt her tense up. But it had to be nerves, “And you don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Pretend?”
“I know what you’re doing. With Griffin, I mean--”
“Beckett--”
“You don’t have to do this, anymore, Jasmine. I see the way you look at me, and I know you don’t feel anything for Griffin. I know you were waiting for me to make a move, and that I took a long time. I apologize for that. But I’m here now. You can stop this charade with him,” I smiled at her.
She didn’t smile back.
I gently squeezed her hand in concern, “Jasmine?”
Slipping her hand from my grasp, she took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, “I’m not pretending to do anything. I don’t understand where this is coming from.”
“You think I don’t notice the way you glance my way when you’re with him,” I rushed to close the space between us. I needed her to see the sincerity, she was just confused. She needed clarity, “I know you, Jasmine. I know you better than him. Better than anyone. Better than you know yourself--”
“Hold on--” She raised her hands to my chest, and I saw the fire dancing behind her eyes. The desire and burning passion.
“You need someone like me. Someone on your intellectual level. You have to know that, Jasmine,” I held her close, borderline begging her to let go of her fears and let me in. She was made for me, she knew it, she was just afraid to love me. Afraid to let go of the norm and try something new, “Don’t be blinded by popularity, you’re worth so much more than that shallow nonsense.”
“One, you don’t know anything about him. Two, I don’t like you in that way,” Jasmine snapped through gritted teeth, “And, three, you’re out of your goddamn mind-”
“DON’T...talk to me like that, Jasmine,” I caught myself before I scared her off.
This wasn’t going the way I wanted it to go. She stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. Sparks of light reached from her palms in a defensive stance, and I felt the tingle of heat against my skin through the fabric of my blazer. Is this what it was like to be passionate? Deep down, there was a hint of something, otherwise the fire between us wouldn’t be there. For a moment, I wondered if sparks of light would emanate from her skin when we made love.
No...I have to take my time. I didn’t want to rush her into anything. She was a good girl. Better than the rest. And she didn’t deserve to be treated like a common whore--even if, at the moment, she was making poor decisions.
“Please, Beckett,” Jasmine whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you. But I will if you don’t take your hands off of me.”
I felt myself tremble, already seeing her slipping away from me. What hold did he have on her? What did he tell her to make her turn on me? Now people were looking at us. Watching us argue like lovers. I held her shoulders, rubbing small circles along her skin before releasing her. “You’re just confused. He told you something to make you change your mind about me. And I’m going to resolve this. I promise.”
Jasmine stepped sharply out of my arms, and brushed past me without another word. For a brief moment, I felt her fingers touch the back of my hand.
There it was.
A sign that she wanted me to fight for her. She wants to know for sure that I’ll go through fire for her. I thought of Griffin and all the ways he had my Jasmine confused and afraid of me. Who was he to stake a claim over her? Mr. Popularity, getting all the points and the girls, and the friends. All because of his looks in this shallow sham of a university. Jasmine was my last bright spot in this cesspool, and he took her from me too. But I was determined to fight.
I watched her briskly stride across campus, curls bouncing against her back, and her head held high. She was too good for him. I would show her. Soon she’d understand, too.
Rating: General (aside from a little swearing here and there, it’s pretty tame)
Authors Note: Here’s a one shot for a ship that no one asked for. Because I love a challenge, and I’m bored.
Tags: @nikkisha16 @bi-outta-cordonia
-----x-----
“How can I help you, Mr. Lahela?” Aurora crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway, trying her best to give off an air of relaxation, despite the day-long onslaught of thoughts that seemed to push at every part of her brain.
The corner of his mouth twitched at the formality, and he let out a short laugh, “God, with the inflection and the tone, you sound just like your aunt.”
She didn’t know much about the surgeon outside of what her roommates and Harper told her. Everytime she saw him, he always seemed to be posing for something with that stupid smirk on his face. He had all the makings of an overconfident airhead, but she knew better. In fact, before she ever met him, she was mildly envious of his relationship with her aunt. She would go on and on about his talent, hinting at the fact that she wished Aurora would’ve been a surgeon like him. The constant comparisons alone made her carry a hint of animosity. It wasn’t very fair to him. He hadn’t done anything to her, and the few times they’d spoken he’d been nothing but cordial to her. It’s not like he knew Harper was on her ass behind closed doors, and she couldn’t hold it against him.
Aurora felt herself tense, and she swallowed hard, forcing a smile on her face, “So I’ve been told,” she shifted her weight on her feet, suddenly anxious for some ungodly reason, “Looking for Valerie?”
“Well how do you know I didn’t come here to see you?” Bryce leaned in towards her, another stupid smirk pulling at his mouth, “Maybe coming here to see Valerie was just a cover.”
Aurora fought the urge to roll her eyes, “She’s not here, she got held up with the diagnostics team. Don’t you guys ever text each other?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Sometimes. Other times I just like to--you know,” he made an odd motion with his hands, “Be spontaneous.”
At this, Aurora couldn’t help but snort. She could see why her roommates found him charming, she supposed. Would she ever admit it to his face? Probably not. He didn’t need any more of a reason to be cocky.
He raised a brow at her in surprise, “Was...that a laugh? Miss Super Serious knows how to laugh?”
Aurora sucked her teeth, “Are you here to be annoying, or do you actually have any other reason for being here?”
“I actually wanted to see if the rest of the group was here?” Bryce glanced past her and stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, “But it looks like they’re M.I.A. too.”
They’d gone to the movies without her, and she felt a pang of hurt at the fact. Granted, they’d gone before she even got home, and they saw some nerdy movie she had no real interest in seeing. But it would’ve been nice if they’d asked her if she wanted to go. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do what she was about to do. Maybe she was bored. Maybe she felt a little lonely, because she wasn’t all that close with her roommates yet. She took a step back, pushing the door open a bit wider for Bryce.
“Would you like to come in and wait for them? I’m sure they’ll be back soon, and I’m about to cook dinner.”
He gasped dramatically, clutching imaginary pearls, “What? Cooking dinner for me? You sure do know the way to a man’s heart.”
Aurora couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth, and she rolled her eyes, “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“So do you have any other friend groups?” Aurora asked, stirring the lobster ravioli in the large pot of simmering tomato sauce. Bryce sat across the kitchen island from her with a glass of red wine, and it felt like he was studying her movements intensely. She continued, “I remember Harper saying that you were a pretty dedicated person. I know from firsthand experience that it doesn’t really--”
“Leave room for friendships?” Bryce finished for her, finally meeting her gaze for what felt like the first time since he entered the kitchen. The action caught Aurora off guard, and she dropped her eyes down to her pasta concoction, “Not really. Which...I guess I expected that, coming in here. I don’t mind it that much. Friendships can get messy.”
She considered this for a moment. At one point, Aurora felt the same way. Friends were a distraction, and most were temporary anyway. If they weren’t trying to get something from you, they were only around until something better or more interesting came around. She never really imagined that Bryce would be lacking in that department. After all, he was here, waiting on a group of friends that he apparently knew well enough to just show up whenever he felt like it. She brought that fact up to him, and he shrugged, taking another sip of his wine.
“Don’t get me wrong, I value the friendship I have with this group. It’s a nice change of pace, especially since we work in different fields,” he swirled his drink around in his glass, “But it’s still...I don’t know. A bit distant. We might be friends, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as close to them as they are to each other. You know?” There was a pregnant pause between them, and Bryce let out a nervous laugh, “I don’t know what you put in this wine, but I guess I feel like being super honest tonight.”
Aurora kept silent for what felt like ages. She turned the heat down on the pasta, before returning the lid back to the pot. His words hit close to home. Maybe a bit too close. She bit her lower lip and cleared her throat, choosing to rest her elbows on the counter, “It’s funny that you can get both rewarded and punished for wanting to be the best at what you do.”
Bryce grimaced, “Funny how that works, huh?”
---
Aurora watched her guest curiously as he took his first bite of her food, and his eyes lit up.
“Well shit, that’s pretty good!” He exclaimed, immediately going in for another bite. She tried to push down the feeling of satisfaction that bloomed in her stomach, knowing that it stemmed from the overwhelming desire for validation of any kind.
“I’m glad you like it,” she muttered, choosing to make work of putting the dirty dishes in the sink, “It would suck if you stuck around all this time for food that ended up being gross. I’d feel kinda bad.”
There was another brief pause as he ate, and she took the opportunity to begin washing the used pots and pans.
“Why did you invite me in?” He suddenly asked.
Aurora felt her hands still in the warm soapy dishwater, and she felt her shoulders tense. She hoped to all the gods she believed in that he wouldn’t ask her that. Maybe it was stupid to assume he would just accept the free food and wine without question. But Bryce seemed to be super intuitive, and she should’ve known that he wouldn’t let it go.
She chose her words carefully, scrubbing in small, slow circles.
“I don’t know,” her voice sounded like it was a thousand miles away, “I just thought I’d do something nice.”
It was kind of true. He’d come all that way to see his friends, and she wasn’t doing anything really. It was her day off, she spent the day alone. And being alone wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; it gave her time to self-reflect.
“Huh,” he responded, “well thank you.”
Aurora let out a silent sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t push further. She glanced at him over her shoulder, shooting him a slow smile.
“No problem,” something about Bryce made her feel comfortable. Maybe it was because they were more similar than she initially thought. And despite his reputation, he didn’t come off as obnoxious. She considered apologizing for the assumptions, but instead she returned her attention back to the dishes. “I’m just glad you liked it.”
She didn’t hear him get up, nor did she hear him walk around the counter, but she nearly jumped out of her skin when Bryce popped up beside her with his plate and glass in hand.
“JESUS-”
“SORRY-”
“Give me a warning, Lahela!”
“My bad…” He smiled sheepishly, holding up his dishes, “I was just gonna ask if you needed help.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at the small stack of dishes left over in the sink, then returned her gaze back to him. Bryce towered over her, but radiated so much warmth that it felt protective rather than intimidating. She inwardly cursed at herself for that stupid intrusive thought, “You can, if you want. I-I don’t have very many left. I can probably manage on my own.”
He simply rolled his eyes and brushed past her, taking her place at the sink and nudging her away.
“C’mon, stop being stubborn,” he groaned, “you cooked. It’s the least I can do.”
She made an attempt to nudge him back with her hip, which proved futile, considering how much heavier he was. He laughed at her, which made her want to try harder to push him away from the sink.
“You don’t have to do this. It was my choice to cook,” she huffed, “And you won’t do it right. I have a method.”
“I’m an adult, I’m sure I can wash dishes.”
“You’re not acting like an adult!”
Bryce, flipped the tap on, filling the basin with more warm water, “What was that? I can’t hear you over the sink.”
Aurora sighed heavily, “Fine. At least let me put the dishes away. Since you don’t know where they go.”
He grinned widely at her and rolled up his sleeves, “Deal.”
They fell into a rhythm: he washed, she dried, she put them in their respective cabinets, and he helped her when shelves were too high. It was quiet, but she didn’t mind. It was the kind of comfortable silence that didn’t need to be interrupted by empty conversation. She recognized the huge difference between silence with companionship, and silence in solitude. Bryce was no doubt someone that loved to talk, a fact she’d learned in the brief time they spent together. As someone who didn’t really mind listening, Aurora found it to be a welcome change.
After putting away the dishes, they moved to the living room and sat on the couch, watching the blinking lights of the Boston skyline. He told her about his hometown: a small neighborhood in Kauai, not too far from a gorgeous hiking trail that leads through a thick rainforest. He told her about his brief phase of collecting leaves in a scrapbook. He labeled them by name, where he found it, and what its identifying features were. As he described his youthful adventures, she could almost smell the fresh sea breeze and the thick, warm air of the forest. He described the vivid colors and smells, the sounds of the birds, the feel of the refreshing rain on humid days.
“You miss it don’t you?” Aurora asked gently, “Massachusetts is a huge change from Kauai. That sounds like paradise in comparison.”
For the first time since she let him through her door, Bryce tensed up, looking away from the window and working his jaw.
“Sometimes I do. But it was for the best.”
Catching on that she may be crossing a boundary, Aurora shifted to face him fully. “I’ve never been to Hawaii before,” she suddenly said, intent on shaking the negativity from the conversation, “the furthest west I’ve ever gone is California. My parents used to take me on some work trips with them, but they were never really anywhere too interesting.”
He relaxed a bit, a small grateful smile returning to his features. She could admit to herself that he had a pretty smile when he was being earnest about it.
“What did your parents do?” He asked, watching her like she was about to reveal the secrets of the universe. It was a bit intimidating. Her eyes flickered out of the window, then back to him.
“They’re tech people,” he opened his mouth and she raised a hand, “Don’t ask me what kind of tech. I never really bothered to ask. It all seemed kind of confusing to me, no matter how many times they explained it to me.”
Bryce chuckled and rested his arm on the back of the couch, “Do you have any siblings?”
“No, it’s just me,” she said, with a shake of the head. Not for lack of trying. Her mother’s inability to have another child destroyed her parents’ marriage. They didn’t want her to know that, but teenage Aurora was too attentive for her own good. She shifted uncomfortably, “It meant that there was a lot of pressure on me to succeed. Being the only one...I don’t ever really remember a time when I wasn’t killing myself trying to be the best of the best.”
She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. It’s not like it was any of his business, but the way he seemed to hang onto her every word made her want to spill every little detail about herself. She continued to fidget, adjusting the bun on her head and crossing her legs under her, “I’d like to think my parents would be proud of where I am right now.”
“You don’t know?”
“We haven’t--I don’t talk to them right now.” Bryce eyed her carefully, and she could almost see the words rattling around in his head as he searched for the next thing to say. She smiled sadly at him, “You don’t have to say anything, it’s okay.”
“I just--” he frowned slightly, “I get it.”
There was another heavy pause between them, and they glanced out the window, wondering how long it’d been since they’ve been that vulnerable with another person.
“So you said you’ve been to Cali? California is pretty dope, by the way,” he blurted out, running a hand through his hair, “I’ve been there a couple of times for games and stuff.”
Aurora raised a brow at him, “Games?”
“Yeah. I used to play college basketball,” After noticing her deadpan expression, his face lit up and he let out a lighthearted laugh, “Don’t look at me like that.”
Shaking her head, Aurora rested her chin on her hand, “Why am I not surprised that you were a jock in college?”
He mirrored her position, resting his chin in his hand and leaning in closer to her, “Are you judging a book by its cover, Miss Emery?”
He knew what he was doing, and Aurora was a dumbass for falling for it. She leaned back on her hands.
“Excuse me for not being surprised that someone who clearly works out was an athlete in college.”
This time, Bryce raised his brows at her, and that stupid smirk returned to his mouth, “‘Clearly works out’?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“That...thing you’re doing,” she motioned at him, “That Lahela thing.”
“What Lahela thing?” He shot her an innocent look, cocking his head to the side, “I’m just repeating what you said.”
“You know what I meant,” Aurora sighed in exasperation, “you’re just built like an athlete. You know...tall and stuff…”
“What does my height have to do with how much I work out?” This time, Bryce had a glint of mischief in his eye. Aurora pushed herself from the couch, attempting to put as much distance as possible between them before she did something stupid.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” she mumbled, striding towards the door, “It’s time for you to go.”
“Hold on,” Bryce hopped off the couch, and in a few long strides, he was directly behind her, “You said I could stay until the group came back! You fed me pasta. We washed dishes together. It was magical!”
“I changed my mind,” Aurora simply stated with a shrug, making a move to unlock the door, “I have things to do.”
“What kind of things?”
“Important things.”
“Wait! Aurora...I get it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things weird,” he placed his hand on the back of the door and she heard him sigh deeply behind her, “It’s really difficult to not be ‘on.’ You know? You kind of make me nervous.”
Aurora faltered and dropped her hand from the doorknob, “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he pulled away from the door, and she became hyper aware of his absence behind her, “You’re really easy to talk to and it freaks me out a little.”
Aurora laughed humorlessly, and finally turned to face Bryce who stood a good three feet away from her, “That’s the first time I’ve ever had anyone say that to me.”
“I’m serious,” and this statement was evident in his expression. His hands remained shoved in his pockets, and he seemed...antsy, “You get me. I feel like I get you too, even if you’re reluctant to admit it. And it’s scary, because I’ve only spoken to you for a little over two hours, and you’ve already made me spill more of my guts than I’ve ever done with someone in the allotted time.”
Aurora said nothing but stared at him curiously, really wondering if he was telling the truth. She leaned back against the door and swallowed hard, “What makes you think you get me?”
“Just a feeling, I guess,” he took a step towards her, “sometimes you just say things and it feels like you’re reading my thoughts. Other times feel like I understand you way more than you let on. Sometimes you give me these looks like you know exactly what I mean. We get each other, and I know you know that...Am I wrong?”
It was a challenge. He was challenging her. How could Bryce Lahela, resident cocky asshole, claim that he understood her? He didn’t know her as anyone other than Harper’s niece. She didn’t know him as anyone other than Harper’s protégé. She could hear her heart thumping in her ears, and she felt her eyes sweep across his form. She didn’t actually want him. She was just lonely. And he was there, staring at her like he could see right through her. She wanted to push him and tell him to stop looking at her like that. She wanted to tell him to stop being so handsome and charming, because she wanted to hate him so badly.
She shook her head slowly, dropping her eyes to her feet, “No. You’re not wrong.”
After what felt like minutes, Aurora peered up at Bryce to see him watching her.
“What are you thinking?” He asked, the smallest hint of concern in his voice.
“I’m thinking...that you really freak me out, Bryce Lahela,” Aurora admitted, pushing herself away from the door.
An expression flashed across his face. It looked like pain...or maybe confusion. Maybe a mixture of both.
“I can go if you--”
It was as if her body moved at a breakneck speed, independent of her overactive brain. And before she could register what was happening, she was pulling him down to her level for a deep kiss. She could taste the wine on his lips, and the warmth of his body overwhelmed her senses, causing her brain to short circuit. It was only when he made a noise that Aurora pulled back from him, embarrassment and shock replacing the warmth that flooded her brain just a mere few moments ago.
“Oh my fucking God,” Aurora covered her mouth with a shaking hand, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m--it’s...that was so disrespectful, I should’ve asked! I should’ve asked if that was okay!”
Bryce pulled her back to him and pressed her up against the door. He ran a hand up her arm, leaving goosebumps along her skin.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He gently cradled her cheek, and brushed against her lower lip, “You’re just...really short. I was getting a neck cramp. It’s like making out with a smurf.”
Aurora blinked at him for a moment, attempting to register what the fuck was going on. Finally, she cracked a grin and playfully hit his arm, “Do you ever stop being an asshole?”
“Aurora Emery, I’ll stop being an asshole when you stop liking it,” with his free arm, he hoisted her up to eye-level, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed a slow kiss to her lips, groaning in satisfaction and gripping her waist with need. He leaned back, meeting her fiery gaze, “Much better.”
