#preoutbreak joel

[wardenparker]

Ten Years Later

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18k Warnings: Old secrets. Characters were lied to and manipulated by someone they cared about. Insecurities. Arguing. Fingering, cum eating, vaginal sex, protected sex. Summary: Tommy convinces Joel to attend his ten year high school reunion, forcing his brother to take some time off. Little does Joel know, his old flame will be there too. Notes: The poll for which character would get a story this week was a tie between Joel Miller and Marcus Pike, so I let @absurdthirst choose! Here is a little 'one that got away' with our boy Joel.

"You're going." Tommy crosses one arm over the other and leans against the archway to the kitchen, frowning at his older brother.

Coffee cup halfway to his lips, Joel shoots him a glare and shakes his head. "Haven't got the time." He grunts, wincing slightly as he slurps down a sip of the scalding brew. "Gotta bid in on another project, plus we have the Miller project to complete." The irony of having a job with his own last name isn't lost on him, but it was definitely a family from another tax bracket. No kin of his. "And there's Sarah."

"It's four days. A long weekend, Joel. That's all." With eyes narrowed on his brother, Tommy tilts his head. "The project bid will be over before Friday anyway, and the Miller project is right on schedule." He huffs a breath and shifts his weight again. "Sarah and I will be fine for a few days. We'll watch movies you hate and I'll teach her the fine art of grilled cheese. Uncle-niece bonding."

"I don't need to go to a ten year reunion." Joel snorts. "What the hell is that? I thought it was only done at twenty?"

"You need to have some damn friends again." Tommy contends. "See people that aren't employees, clients, or Sarah's friends' parents." Abandoning the wall, Tommy comes and sits down at the table with Joel and picks up his half-drunk orange juice. "Plus?" He shrugs through a gulp of the sunny liquid. "I already RSVP'ed for you and paid. So you're going."

"Goddamnit, Tommy." Joel closes his eyes and sighs, setting the cup down and pinches the bridge of his nose. "How much was it?" Even though the business was slowly growing, money was always tight, especially when he has a little girl that seems to outgrow her clothes every few months.

"You'll never know." Smirking triumphantly, Tommy leans forward in his chair and steals an abandoned bite of toast from the edge of Joel's plate. "I used my own money, it didn't bankrupt me, and you're going."

“Fuck.” Joel hisses and shakes his head. “Tommy.” He groans in warning.

"Take a few days to just relax, would you?" He pushes out of his seat to start loading the breakfast dishes into Joel's dishwasher. "Come on, old man, we gotta work. And when we get home tonight you're gonna pack." Tommy point a finger at his brother and grins evilly. "Because if you don't, I'm gonna pack for you. Speedos and Hawaiian shirts. And nothing else."

“Fuck.” Joel snorts and shakes his head. “I would never wear speedos.” He reminds his brother. “They never fit right.” His own grin flashes. “Not enough room.”

******

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" It's the fourth time this hour you've asked, but you still look to your sister with wide and beseeching eyes. Packing your suitcase for this reunion getaway is proving far more stressful than you expected and you reach for the cocktail sitting on your nightstand. "How did I let you talk me into this?"

“Because you deserve to have a good time, away from everything.” She grins as she reaches for the bathing suit you had taken out of your bag. “You need this.”

"The hotel might not have a pool," you argue, although you can't imagine a resort in Texas not having a pool. Or even more than one. "And I do have a good time! I go out on the weekends and everything!"

“You go out to the same sad little bar, order one dirty martini - which is disgusting by the way – have their Greek salad and come home.” She snorts, rolling her eyes and shoving the two piece into the pocket where all your panties and bras are. “You need another one.”

"They make my martinis exactly the way I like them." It's a lame defense, but it's all you have at the moment, and you frown at her deeply. "This is going to be four days of painfully awkward mingling with people who didn't even like me growing up."

“You had friends.” She huffs. “You just…stopped talking to them when you went off to college.”

"My best friend decided to start dating the guy I was in love with, and then completely cut me off," you remind your older sister quietly. "And it's not like Mom and Dad had enough money to fly me home from college all the time just so I could hang out with half-assed friends. I had to stay in Boston." The fairly recent return to your hometown came on the heels of your father's death, and the decision to stay was a difficult one. "I'm sorry, I just...being home has been weird. And this is going to be weird, too."

“I know.” She softens, knowing how difficult this has been for you and she pulls you in for a hug. “If nothing else, get some vitamin D, drink some cocktails and read the three books I know you will shove in the front pocket.”

Your frown transforms into a pout, and you glance guiltily at your living room bookshelves through the open doorway before looking back at her. “I’ll probably bring four,” you admit, shrugging slightly. “Since the thing is four days long.”

There’s a guilty look on your face and she laughs. “So worst case, you get to read four books while relaxing and not working. Sounds like a good reason to vacation to me.”

A long groan escapes your throat, but you tip your head back and sigh. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this.”

“You’re gonna have so much fun!” She squeals, happy that you are giving in and going.

"I'm going to drink cocktails and read books," you correct, giving her a good natured stink-eye. She means well, and she's right. You haven't had so much as a tiny vacation since you started your professional career right out of college, six years ago. "Get that bathing suit out of my suitcase or I'm changing my mind again."

“Nope.” She picks up a big straw hat and tosses it in. “Because you need to sit by the pool and read while you drink cocktails. You can’t do that in business wear.”

“Mean sister,” you grumble, but sigh and turn to your closet to find some kind of coverup to put over your swimsuit by the pool. This reunion will be best if you speak to no one, so that’s what you’re planning on doing: Just sun, books, and booze all weekend.

******

“Fuck.” There’s nothing wrong with this place, it actually looks amazing, but it’s also the last fucking place Joel wants to be. Looking around, he expects Tisha to pop out from behind a fucking bush like the boogeyman. Nervous because he knows people will be asking questions, wanting to know what happened and he doesn’t have the mental energy for that shit.

“Checking in, sir?” The cheery young woman behind the desk asks, ready to be snipped and sniped at by another member of this class reunion party, judging by the attitudes she’s seen so far and this man’s approximate age.

“Yeah.” He frowns slightly, for a second wondering if Tommy put the reservation under his name or Joel’s. “Uh, Miller.” He tells her quietly. “Joel? Or it could be Tommy? My brother set this up.” He admits, looking a little sheepish.

“I do have a reservation for a Joel Miller.” She takes his license and clicks through the computer, frowning after a moment. “It appears the room has been double booked,” she admits, worrying her lip between her teeth. This large event was the kind of thing that unfortunately sometimes led to errors and the reservation was initiated by one of the newer employees. “Unless…you aren’t traveling with anyone, are you Mr. Miller?”

"Uhhhhhh, no." He shakes his head and looks around. "Not that I'm aware of, but I wouldn't put it past that fucker." He adds under his breath, wondering what the fuck Tommy had done. "Who is it?"

She says the name carefully, searching his face for a reaction. “I have you booked into one of the cabins.”

"Not a room?" He asks, frowning slightly because he knows a cabin has to be more expensive than a room. Cursing Tommy again for backing him into this corner and making him come.

“No sir, a queen cabin. There’s a dozen of them of varying sizes on the property. Very coveted. It’s an excellent reservation, but as I said…it seems to be double booked.” She can see two credit cards and two names on the reservation. The new employee must have thought it could be split like the larger, two bedroom cabins.

"Well, hell..." he contemplates just turning around and going home but he knows Tommy will have his ass. Especially since he enlisted Sarah to telling him off on how much he needed a vacation. His eight year old girl being her bossy self. "I don't need a cabin. Give it to the other guy and I'll just take a room." He offers.

“I’m afraid we’re fully booked, sir.” The desk agent fidgets and shifts her weight under the desk. Out of sight. “The reunion has booked the entire facility for this weekend. But you do have the cabin. If you would like it.”

"And who is that going to leave without a room?" Joel asks, not wanting to take the cabin from someone who would actually want it.

The other young woman at the next computer over clears her throat gently and politely whispers something in the ear of the agent checking in Joel. A few near-silent whispers and a few nods between them and the woman a few feet away from Joel at the desk fidgets.

“It’s…um…I think it’s us who got double booked.” And you’re instantly sick to your stomach at the thought of it. You’re absolutely going to murder your sister when you get home.

Joel hadn't noticed anyone else coming up to the counter but he recognizes that voice right away. Turning his head as your name comes out of his mouth, he is a bag of mixed emotions as he sees you after ten long years. Twelve if you count the fact that you just suddenly stopped talking to him in tenth grade. Ignored him like he didn't exist even when he was standing beside you.

“Hi Joel.” It’s such a lame ass sentence. Two words with no meaning whatsoever. But they’re all that you can force out of your mouth when he’s standing there next to you looking perfect.

"Hi." He shifts and frowns slightly. "Uh, so we are the two lucky one, huh?" He asks, snorting slightly and wondering how the hell he had gotten into the mess. He is going to kill Tommy when he gets home. His chuckle sounds a little dry to his own ears and he shrugs, motioning to the desk. "Why don't you take the cabin?" He offers. "I didn't really - uh, Tommy pushed me to come anyway."

He didn’t want to come. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t plan this as some big gesture. The exhale you can manage feels crackling and dry. “Can you just send extra pillows and an extra blanket to the cabin? I can sleep on the couch.” This isn’t the desk agent’s fault. They’re both just doing their jobs. But you are going to kill your sister for talking you into this. “I made Evie a promise. To stick this weekend out,” you tell Joel, stricken with the inexplicable need to be honest. “I’ll stay out of your way. Just go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

Joel frowns, still reeling by the idea that you are acknowledging his existence. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He automatically argues. “Because there’s no way I can go home. Sarah will kill me.”

“Sarah?” Glancing behind him to look for some sign of Tisha proves futile, and now you don’t really know what to expect at all.

Joel looks at you in confusion for a second. “She didn’t even fucking mention her daughter when she fucked off to see you?” He snorts, that familiar feeling of soul crushing disappointment burning in his chest.

Taking the key from the desk agent with tense, sharp movements, you shove the little piece of plastic in your pocket and immediately regret the decision to share space with him. “I haven’t seen or heard from Tisha since graduation.” You inform him briskly, and walk away.

Joel closes his eyes and sighs. “Shit.” He hisses, regret curling in his gut and he takes his own key from the worker and bites his lip. “Sorry.” He offers quietly before hustling to catch up to you.

“I’m sorry she seems to have turned out to be as awful to you as she was to me,” you bite out, facing resolutely forward as you stalk toward the other side of the lobby.

“Wait.” Your pace doesn’t even falter a single step and he starts to jog to catch up to you as he pants your name. “Please?”

It takes a hell of a deep breath and a slight waver when you stop short, but you finally pull to a halt and turn around. Thankfully no one else in the lobby seems to be paying too much attention to you. It’s still too early in the arrival process for people to be excited about drama.

He almost runs into you, reaching out and catching your shoulders so he doesn’t bowl you over. “I- I’m sorry.” Joel murmurs quietly, dropping his hands and sighing. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

"Why don't we get out of the lobby before people start getting interested?" You suggest, shrinking away from his touch more than you're proud of.

“Yeah.” He sees the way you react and he steps back to give you more space. “Sure.”

The path to the cabins is well-marked when you get outside, and the tree-lined path helps protect from the afternoon sun. If you weren’t so fucking upset right now it might even be pretty.

“Listen, I’ll just go.” Joel murmurs from behind you, “I’ll go get a hotel somewhere and just tell my asshole brother I had a great time. You can have the cabin and you don’t have to worry about seeing me.”

Like some edict from the universe, your phone goes off at that exact moment — and rather than ignoring it like you would usually do, you pull it out of your pocket to see what the text says.

From Ivy: Talk to him.

Oh you are absolutely going to murder your sister when you get home. “Joel—” It takes every ounce of discipline in your body not to growl or huff or fuss. Just to say his name. The name of the boy who broke your heart when you were sixteen and you haven’t spoken to since. Until today. “…wait?”

He stopped when you turn around, making sure to keep a good two feet away from you. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He promises. He doesn’t know what caused the rift so many years ago, why you dropped him and your best friend, but it’s obvious you don’t want to be around him.

“It’s…” It feels so immature. So ludicrous. And so wildly past the point of mattering. But you still finish the two word sentence with your eyes trained on your shoes in the dirt path. “…Complicated.”

He huffs quietly, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “Okay.” He doesn’t know what’s complicated or why, but he doesn’t argue with you.

“Let’s just go to the cabin,” you say, although your nose is quickly back in your phone when you turn around to type a hasty reply to your sister.

To Ivy: Your death will be slow and painful. XOXO

Joel sighs and nods. Walking towards the cabin while you type away on your phone. He’ll listen to whatever you have to say, hand you his room key and get out of dodge. He hadn’t wanted to come anyway and he damn sure didn’t want to hear about how well Tisha was doing without him or the child she apparently never mentioned.

Cabin 3 is only a few yards down the path, set back from the walking route by a trail of flat stones and lively flowers. It would look romantic and picturesque if you didn’t feel like you were walking to your death, and as it is you tap your keycard to the lock and shove the door open with a swallowed sigh.

Joel follows you inside, but he doesn’t go father than the little inside table. Dropping the key on it and waiting for you to tell him off in private.

“You said your brother sent you on this trip?” You’ve barely taken your hand off your suitcase, not even put down your purse. But the door has shut behind him so at least this is private.

“Yeah.” Joel snorts. “Said it would be good for me to catch up with people.”

"Yeah." A vague nod of your head belies the knots in your stomach. "My sister said the same thing. And then sent me a text telling me to talk to you. So I have a sneaking suspicion that our siblings may be...meddling."

“Why?” He asks, looking confused. “You haven’t talked to me since tenth grade.”

"Hell if I know." You cross one arm over the other across your chest. "You're the one who decided to spread a rumor all over school that I gotten the clap from Coach Jenkins. Why don't we start with that fun memory?"

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He growls. “I never fucking said that. Never fucking believed it.”

"It's been twelve years," you huff, trying not to seem as hurt as you are. As you have been for all of those twelve years. "Just be an adult and admit it, please."

“Is that what you think of me?” Joel is sixteen again, hurt and angry by the way that his friend had turned away from him. You had told your mom that you didn’t want to talk to him when he called your house after the rumors started. You avoided him in school. He had been bewildered and Tisha had just assured him that you needed to deal with some things and you would come back around, that you weren’t talking to her either. Or any of the people you hung out with. You don’t say anything and Joel nods. “Got it.” He snaps, jaw clenched and his eyes narrowing. “Good to know.” He picks up his bag. “Well, this hasn’t been fun. Enjoy the next twelve years and tell my bitch ex-wife that my daughter never asks about her.” He growls, turning around and snatching the door open.

"I told you, she hasn't spoken to me." Not since all the bullshit started. Not since sophomore year. Not since the rumor that made all of your friends turn their backs on you and left you virtually entirely alone for the last two years of high school.

“Well that’s funny to me, because the day she fucking left, she said she was going to you.” Joel grunts, looking over his shoulder with the door open.

"Then obviously she was lying to you." It's your turn to feel small again – teenaged and immature and naïve but convinced you were old enough to do every single thing in the world yourself. "Look, I– I'm sorry. I don't really–" Pushing out a sigh, the best you can do in this moment is shake your head and swallow back the threat of tears that is cracking through your voice. "Never mind."

You’ve always had the ability to pull on his heart, it’s why your complete icing out had hurt. He sighs and turns around, the door still opened in case you want him to leave and he searches your face. “Tell me.”

"Tell you what?" Shuffling in place makes you feel just as pouty as you probably look, and your sister's text message flashes in your mind again just to make your shoulders sag even more. "Tell you that that rumor ruined the rest of my high school year? I spent two years as a pariah. No one would talk to me, teachers were afraid to be in a room alone with me, and my parents kept me under lock and key at home because even they believed it."

“I didn’t.” Joel snorts. “There’s no fucking way you would have looked at Coach Jenkins. Man was an asshole. But you wouldn’t even fucking take my call when I wanted to tell you that.” There was more to it than that, but you never gave him an opportunity to get to that point.

"Then why did everyone say it came from you?" The decade-old heartache of having him stand here in front of you and call you a liar is something altogether different, but you dig the toe of your shoe into the rug rather than look him in the eyes.

“I don’t fucking know, but I swear on my daughter’s happiness, I didn’t start that rumor.” He insists. “Why would I when–” he breaks off, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter, but I didn’t say it.”

"When what?" Needling him may be slightly immature and more for personal satisfaction, but you're still hurt after so many years, so you ask anyway.

It doesn’t matter now, the past is behind both of you and nothing can change it. He shrugs, “when I had planned on asking you out that weekend.” Joel admits.

"Oh, bullshit," you huff, shaking your head and all but throwing up your hands. "That was right when you started dating Tisha. You don't have to lie to me, Joel."

“I went out with Tisha that weekend when you wouldn’t take my calls.” He reminds you. It was petty and probably a little hurtful, but he had been so hurt by your refusal to even talk to him and the rumors were swirling, so he had taken Tisha up on the offer to go out together. And the rest was history.

“But you…” There is a feeling in your mind like all of your memories are short circuiting. Like things have been out of order with jagged edges and sharp spines and had always been too dangerous for you to touch — but now they start to slip together like a puzzle. “You were just calling to taunt me…?” Wide eyes come with the feeling of being sick to your stomach and you swear you swallow bile in your throat.

"No, I wasn't." Joel sighs and turns to close the door, wanting to at least clear the air before he leaves. "I was calling to check up on you. To tell you that I didn't believe that bullshit rumor and to see if you wanted to go down to the lake. Get away." The lake back then was much more remote and more of a local hangout than it is now. He huffs in amusement and looks around the cabin. "Didn't have these fancy places here back then."

“You were going to…?” The way your mind just about short circuits is comical.

“Yeah.” He sighs softly. “So why would I start that rumor?”                                                  

“But Tisha said…” You shake your head as though it might shake a screw loose, and in the process only make yourself all the more confused. “You hated me. That…you were only pretending to be my friend to make fun of me behind my back.” Obviously the thoughts had festered. Had followed you. And though years of therapy had helped you to realize that your teenage years could not define your entire life unless you let them, this hurt had stuck with you deep in your soul. Because Joel Miller was the first boy you ever loved. And because your best friend had known that. “She said…she was doing me a favor…being honest with me…?”

Joel closes his eyes and sighs. “Tisha lied.” His tone is flat and almost emotionless. The weight of the revelation sucking any kind of life from him when he realizes how cold his ex-wife was. “She was jealous of you. She hated you. I realize that now.”

“She was my best friend from the time we were like four years old…” It’s almost too much to wrap your head around, but it’s starts sinking in at your shoulders first. Tisha was the one person you confided in entirely. Including when you both had crushes on Joel in middle school. She had gone on to date someone else during freshman year while you stayed focused on the older Miller brother, and…had she really been so hateful the entire time? So jealous? And how had you been so blind to it?

“I don’t know.” Joel could never figure out Tisha’s motivations. “The day she left me, she said she was going to you.”

“She didn’t.” A lie. Another lie. Which hits you so hard that your knees buckle and threaten to give out altogether. Was all of it a lie?

He shrugs slightly, not able to change events that were so long ago and he has stopped caring about what happened to her when it became obvious that she wasn’t coming back to her infant daughter. “I don’t know where she is, then.”

“I’m sorry.” You wobble again, needing to sit down and collect yourself, and stumble one step backward to the nearest chair. “I’m…I’m so sorry…”

He notices your near collapse into the chair and he frowns. “Why are you sorry?” He hates Tisha even more, the flare of anger reigniting for the woman who had abandoned him when he was a fucking kid with a kid. Leaving him to figure everything out on his own. He had barely known how to change a diaper when she left. Apparently, she had done even more damage than he had thought.

“Because I blamed you…for twelve years.” Just when you thought this whole situation had devastated you enough — when you thought you had internalized and worked past all of it that you could — it feels like your heart is breaking all over again. “But she…she did worse to you than she did to me.” And you wish you had been there for him, like the friend you had claimed to be to him for years.

Your breathing is short and shallow, almost panting. Something that he recognizes from Sarah’s overstressed moments. His guard drops along with his bag to the floor and his frown turns into one of concern as he moves over in front of you. Crouching down eye level and looking into your devastated eyes. “Breathe for me.” He instructs you calmly. “In and out. Breathe baby girl.” He uses the same soothing tone he would use for his daughter, reaching around your body to rub your back. “It’s okay, but you gotta breathe.”

Even in a panic you recognize the term of endearment and feel nauseous. You don’t deserve it. Or his attention. He ought to scream at you and walk out the door for how you treated him. For how you believed her words over his actions. But…you were only a kid. And a naive, trusting kid at that. “I’m sorry,” you manage to murmur again, sucking in a shaky breath with your eyes so wide that the world is fuzzy gray around you.

For a split second, he thinks you’re going to faint. Reaching out and cupping your face in both hands, he shushes you. “Breathe for me.” He instructs. “Come on. Innnnnnnn.” He inhales a deep breath. “And oooooout.” You can talk about all this shit later when you calm down.

It takes a full minute or two for you to calm down, and by that time you have tears streaking your cheeks and not enough presence of mind to do anything about it other than be ashamed. “I can’t believe it…” Is really the only coherent thought you can manage to voice.

“Shusssssshhhh.” He murmurs, shaking his head. “We can talk about all this later.” He promises.

“You should hate me.” The realization makes you sink further into yourself, though you breathe deeply when he guides you through it.

“Why would I hate you?” He asks. “Because you believed a lie Tish told?” He snorts. “Sweetheart, I believed all her bullshit too.”

“But I was awful to you.” That might be what is so unforgivable. Not that you believed the lies — no, you know how gullible you are. You’ve known for years thanks to therapy. It’s that you believed them strongly enough to disappear into a mire of hating a boy you had once adored.

“Because you stopped talking to me?” Joel frowns and shakes his head. “I hated losing you, but you weren’t awful to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur again, sitting up in your chair and wiping your hands down your face like you’re trying to wipe the whole slate clean. “This is…not what you needed today, I’m sure. Just give me a minute to collect myself and I’ll get going. You can enjoy the cabin for the weekend and relax.”

“You should stay.” He murmurs. “If you’re worried about people talking shit, I’ll set the record straight.”

“People will always talk shit.” Finally feeling a little more under control, you drop your forehead into your own upturned palm and sigh. “I care what you think.” You admit after a moment. “Not them.”

It’s odd that you would care about what he thinks after so long. Especially if you believed that he had said those things about you and ruined your reputation. “I think you should stay.” He tells you quietly. “You deserve to stay.”

“I don’t deserve shit.” Of that, you are more than certain. But you do shrug a little, and end up sighing again with a groan. “Especially not you being nice to me.”

“That’s not true.” Joel snorts. “I’m not fucking nice, I’m an asshole.”

“You were always nice to me.” A fact which makes you feel enough shame that your stomach churns. “Even when I thought you weren’t, you were actually just a sweet guy that I was being shitty to.”

“I was nice to you because I–” it wasn’t love. He hadn’t been close enough to you to love you, but it was almost love. He probably would have been in love if you had gone on that date with him. “I cared about you. A lot.”

“I—” Looking up, you still avoid his eyes by squeezing your own shut tight for a long moment. “I cared about you a lot too.” And the problem is — you never really got over him.

“So when Tish told you that I started that rumor….it made me seem like a complete fuckwad.” He understands, he really does.

“And the fact that the two of you got together after…” Crossing your arms over your chest again is almost like caving in, but at least you’re not crying or hyperventilating anymore.

“I was upset you wouldn’t talk to me.” Joel admit, shrugging slightly “She told me that I needed to get my mind off it. I had told her that I was trying to ask you out, so she told me that we should go on that date.”

That expression of crestfallen heartbreak crossed your features again, but this time instead of shock There is a resignation there that you hadn’t expected at all.

She did this. She did this entirely. And she did it knowing full well what it would do to you.

“She knew…” You manage, shaking your head and all but throwing up your hands in utter dismay. “She knew how I felt about you so of course she asked you out instead.”

“How you felt about me?” He frowns, unsure what you mean by that. He had thought you liked him before everything went to shit, but after you refused to talk to him, he hadn’t been sure.

It’s been well over ten years at this point and you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, so you just flail your hands again and throw in the proverbial towel. “I was completely in love with you…for years. And she knew I was too shy to do anything about it.”

Joel sighs softly, thinking about what you are telling him and it clicks into place. The missing piece of the puzzle. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s not your fault.” It isn’t either of your faults. The only person in the wrong here is the woman who fucked both of you over and then disappeared. “She did far worse to you than she did to me.”

“She just made your fucking life miserable to get a guy she didn’t actually care for.” He huffs.

“And left you with a daughter to raise all on your own,” you point out. It’s needless, and you aren’t saying he doesn’t love his little girl, but she sure fucking did leave him in the lurch.

Joel nods. “But I think the best thing she did was leave.” He admits. “But I’ll never forgive her for leaving Sarah.”

“She doesn’t deserve her.” The assertion leaves your lips automatically, making you fluster. “Just…if Sarah is anything like you…she’s far too good for Tisha.”

“Sarah is better than I could ever hope to be.” That part is true, and his face shifts to a small smile. Paternal pride radiating from him when he thinks about her. It’s hard raising the little girl by himself, but with Tommy’s help, he thinks he’s getting by.

“Then she is far too good for Tisha.” You can say that with the utmost certainty, especially now.

He bites his lip. “You should stay.” He urges you again. “Listen, I didn’t want to come because I didn’t want to run into Tish.” He shrugs.

“Same.” The admittance comes with a soft, incredulous laugh. “Although…I didn’t know you’d split. It was more like I didn’t want to have to see both of you, and happy together.”

“I asked her once why you stopped hanging around her, and I got my ass jumped so bad I never asked again.” Joel sighs. “She was never happy with me. That’s obvious looking back.”

“I don’t know if she was ever happy at all.” Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was the issue all along. But you’re starting to understand that maybe the problem was hers and not to do with you or Joel specifically. “Maybe she was just never content with anything.”

“And if she knew that you wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with you….” Joel sighs. “She decided she would get in the way of that.” He shakes his head, unable to imagine the blackness of his ex’s heart to do that to the girl she had claimed was her best friend in the entire world at one point.

“Well…” The layer of inky awfulness that feels like it is settling into your skin makes you long for a shower or a soak or something, and you’re nominally grateful that your sister made you pack that swimsuit after all. “Maybe we could both stay?” You offer meekly. “Catch up a little?”

For the first time, Joel looks around the cabin and notices that there is a couch in the little sitting room, the studio layout showcasing the bed behind that. “Will you be comfortable with me here?” He asks seriously. “It’s been ten years.” He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to share a space with him.

“Unless you sleep walk or have violent nightmares or something, I think we’ll be okay.” And even if he did, you know in your heart you wouldn’t do anything but try to help him. “Unless…you’re not comfortable with me here?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not uncomfortable.” He promises softly. “We can stay here. We’re both adults.”

“So does this mean we’re not killing our siblings for forcing us here?” Your sister will consider that a win, but you’ll hardly tell her so yourself.

Joel snorts. “Tommy’s still going to get his ass beat, but that’s just for GP.” He jokes.

“Fair enough I guess.” An actual smile cracks through the gloom and you look up at him. Joel Miller has been tucked away in a dark, aching corner of your heart for so long that it feels almost self indulgent and fantastical to even look him in the eye. “I’m glad you’re okay. And that your daughter is too.”

He nods, not sure if he's okay, but he's muddled his way through fatherhood. It's easier now than it had been when she was a baby, that's for sure. "How have things been going for you?" He asks, wondering what path you had taken after being out of his life for so long.

“I’m an architect.” There is no real story to tell in terms of family or close relationships, but that is the choice you made along the way. Your inability to connect to another romantic partner is something you’ve started talking to your therapist about, though it isn’t going well. “For my degree and started working at a firm in Boston, but my dad died a couple of years ago and I came back to Texas to take over his firm instead.” Following in your father’s footsteps is the thing that you’re proudest of, even if moving back home had been a tough choice under a worse circumstance.

Joel's brows shoot up in surprise. "Followed in the old man's footsteps, huh?" He asks, smiling at the thought. He had been interested in architecture at one point until he realized college wasn't in the cards for him. He didn't have the money for that and being a single parent had completely changed the course of his life. While Tommy was off in the Army, he had started working in construction and when he had come home, Joel had actually ventured out and started his own company. "How's that going?"

“Not bad.” There is a brightness in your smile that comes with his praise that you can’t deny but you also don’t want to examine too closely. “We have some really good contracts right now. I’m designing a couple of houses for families around Austin and my partner has some businesses in downtown he’s working on.”

He nods. "That's good." He hates that he wants to ask about the partner, but he doesn't really want to know if it's just business or if it's something more. "The housing market is in a boom right now. Building is up and thank God the price of lumber is staying reasonable."

You tilt your head at him, smile curling slightly into the corner of your mouth. “Don’t tell me we picked the same career?”

"Oh no." Joel shakes his head quickly. "I build the houses, I don't design them." He snorts. "Didn't have the money or time for college." He admits. "Had a baby to feed and take care of. My first construction crew boss let me bring Sarah to the jobsites." He smiles when he thinks about how crazy it looked with a tent erected over a playpen with a sleeping baby inside while the sounds of hammers rang all around her. That crew had helped him become a fucking good dad, steering him on the right path and giving him life saving advice for when he was at home with her.

“I bet she can sleep through anything now.” Having been to enough job sites to know how loud they are, the image of sleeping baby next to an active construction site makes you smile even more.

"Yeah she can." He snorts. "I told her that she could sleep through bombings or the end of the world." He jokes. "Running the vacuum at midnight is not a problem."

“That’s got to be handy, at least.” It’s comforting to think that he’s happy, even if things had been hard. Even if you aren’t the one to make him that way. “My sister and I are backing living in the house we grew up in. It’s too much for two people but it was left to both of us to share.”

"That's a good thing, right?" He asks, wondering if the memories of the past were haunting or helping you.

“I guess so.” You bob your head in acquiescence. “Pretty soon I suspect she’ll want the guy she’s seeing to move in and then I’ll go apartment hunting. It’s the circle of life.”

Joel chuckles quietly. “I bought this shitty starter home. Needs a ton of work, but I’m slowly redoing it on the weekends.” He shrugs. “The neighbors are good.” He thanks God the Adlers watch Sarah after school until he gets home. It's a comfort knowing she can get off the bus at home.

“Neighbors make the difference.” Shuffling slightly in place, you look around the cabin again and move a step inward. “I’ll take the couch,” you insist, putting your small suitcase next to it. “It sounds like you barely ever have a chance to relax and you could use a couple of nights sprawled out.”

“Not a chance.” Joel snorts, shaking his head. “I might be an asshole, but there’s no way I’m going to let you take the couch.”

“I thought we established you weren’t an asshole?” At least not to you. At least not intentionally and not directly. For the last two years of high school after he’d accepted that you weren’t speaking to him, he’d left you alone.

“Yeah…but I really am.” He promises, flashing you a quick grin. “Just ask Tommy.”

“Your brother’s opinion doesn’t count. Just like my sister’s opinion doesn’t. Siblings are too close to the source.”

“Then I’ll have to track down the guy I cut off on the interstate.” Joel jokes. “I’m sure he knows I’m an asshole.”

"Oh, well sure." You grin, smothering a snort in the middle of laughing. "That guy has all the facts."

“Seriously.” He nudges you towards the bed. “Sleeping on the couch won’t kill me. I do it plenty at home. Damn fine naps on the sofa.”

"If you say so." It seems selfish, but he's insisting, and you shift your suitcase over toward the bed hesitantly.

“You haven’t lived until the baby is asleep on the floor in the most awkward position known to man and you can catch a fifteen minute Power Nap.” He chuckles, picking up his own bag and setting it on the chair you had vacated.

"I'm looking forward to finding out." That, at least, is honest, and a soft smile graces your face effortlessly.

“So no boyfriend or fiancé?” He frowns slightly and feels bad because he’s hoping you say no.

"None at all." For now you'll try to ignore the way your heart clenches hearing him ask that question, and you'll probably stew in it instead of sleeping tonight, but at least you're not fighting or yelling at each other any more. That's a positive. "Did you...ever date? After Tish?"

“No.” Joel shrugs slightly. “I was too busy raising her to think about dating and now….” He sighs. “I don’t want women coming into her life if they aren’t going to stay.”

“That’s fair.” And something you wish your own father had abided by, but that’s not worth getting stuck on thinking about. “She’s lucky to have you looking out for her.”

“Somebody has to.” He reflects, wishing that she had two parents, but she had never complained. She had asked questions when she was younger, but had accepted his answers on why she didn’t have a mother like most kids.

“And I’m sure you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.” Having wandered over to the bed, there is a reunion itinerary in the nightstand that you pick up and wave slightly in his direction. “Looks like there are activities for us this weekend.”

“Oh yay.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “I had just hoped to sleep by the pool and drink beer.”

“I brought four books,” you admit with a sheepish grin. “I had no intention of doing too much socializing once I let my sister talk me into coming.”

“Nice to know we had the same plan.” He unzips his back and pulls out a set of swimming trunks. “Why don’t we go lay by the pool then? You can bring your book and I’ll doze while getting sunburned?”

“I bet you didn’t even pack sunscreen.” You did, out of an abundance of caution, but the thought of going out to the pool with Joel and lounging makes you want to wrap yourself up in your cover up and hide in a very teenage sort of way.

You would be wrong and Joel smirks as he grabs a bottle of it out of a side pocket. “Are you kidding? Sarah loves being in the pool and I’ve got to even out my construction tan.”

“No blatant white lines across your arms?” You tease with a grin. “How disappointing.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m so sure.” He snorts.

“I’ll just go in the bathroom and change.” Your swimsuit is in the corner of your suitcase and you pull it out discreetly, wishing you hadn’t let your sister talk you into packing the more revealing of your suits. She had sworn you would be grateful for the tan, but now you disappear into the cabin’s bathroom wondering if you’re about to embarrass yourself.

“Well shit.” Joel glances around and peels his shirt off after tossing down his swimming trunks and the sunscreen. “I guess I’m changing too.” He hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself when you come out on your suit, it’s been a long fucking time since he’s been on a date or gotten laid.

The second you’re behind the closed bathroom door, you pull out your phone and hit your sister’s contact info with a ferocity rarely seen outside devouring popcorn on movie night.

It only rings once before she picks up. “I’m going to kill you.” are the first words out of your mouth.

“No you aren’t.” Your sister cackles and hums. “So I take it that you have received your surprise. How does he look?”

“How?” You demand to know, hissing into your phone as you start to change your clothes. “How the hell did you do this?”

“Tommy found me on MySpace.” She singsongs down the line. “I asked him if Joel pulled that shit back in high school and he swore he didn’t. But you’re so hardheaded, you wouldn’t believe it unless you heard it from the horse’s mouth. So we decided to set this little meet cute up.”

"Oh my goooood." The mortifying part of being so obviously seen through comes with the fact that your sister had known full well how much of a crush you had on Joel previous to everything happening. "Which one of you assholes had the idea to double book us in a room?"

“That was Tommy’s idea.” She admits with a snort and then pauses to hear you curse her out. When you don’t, she sighs. “Joel still has a picture of you up in his living room.” She hisses. “I don’t think that there’s a downside here.”

"I'm sure that's not true." Carefully setting your phone down on the edge of the sink, you tug your shirt over your head and jeans off your legs in turn before glancing over at the swimsuit she packed for you. "You really had to pick my skimpiest suit, didn't you?"

"It makes your figure look amazing." She scoffs. "No, seriously, Tommy told me that there this photo of you, Joel, Terry, Tisha and Shelia all in the science lab. Joel has his arms around both you and Tish." He had said that Joel claimed it was to keep a picture of Tisha up for Sarah, but she had pictures of her mother and she never looked at them.

“So it’s an old photo,” you reason, hating the way your pulse picks up with hope. “With his ex in it. That’s not up because I’m in it.”

"There are no other pictures of Tisha up in the house." She argues. "Sarah wanted to take that one down, but Joel said no. He wanted it up. Now why would that be?"

“How would I know?” Your sigh as you trade your panties for bikini bottoms is audible. “Maybe Terry and Sheila got married and asked him to be their best man?”

"Just.....talk to him?" She asks softly. "If he's not the same man you've built up in your teenage mind, you can finally move on."

“Well…we’re about to go be boring by the pool.” Tying on your suit top takes a little extra twisting but at this point you’re trying not to look at yourself in the mirror on principle. It will just make you more nervous. “When this inevitably goes south, I will come home early and talk it over with my therapist at length.”

"But what if it goes right?" Your sister asks softly. "Even if it's not exactly what you had dreamed of in high school, being able to close this chapter will be good for you."

“I think the best possible scenario is leaving this weekend with a promise to get together again soon that we both politely forget about when we get home.” You sigh again and stretch, gathering up your clothes in your arms and pick up your phone. “I’m gonna go, Ivy. I’ve been in this bathroom so long he probably thinks I’m trying to climb out the window.”

Joel glances at the door to the bathroom and wonders if you are regretting letting him stay. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, turning when the door opens and you appear in the doorway. He freezes for a second, eyes fixed on you and he knows that he's in deep shit, his mouth watering when he sees your bikini. "Uh," he drops his hand, hovering over his head and shuffles to cover the fact that his cock is hardening. "Ready for fun?"

“Towel, sunscreen, and a book,” you confirm, moving back over to the bed and dropping your clothes in favor of the little stack of necessaries you put together. Your cabin is close enough to the main hotel area that the pool isn’t more than a dozen yards away, and you glance down at your phone in your hand and swallow. “Apparently our siblings were conspiring,” you reveal, deciding not to keep anything from him.

“I figured as much at check in.” Joel admits, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” The offer is mostly just a platitude, he can’t really be angry at Tommy for this. Especially since he knows now what you had thought of him all this time. “How pissed are you at them?”

“I’ll hold it over Ivy’s head for a while.” Bundling your things against your chest is basically just an effort to do anything but stare at him. Joel isn’t all defined muscles and six pack abs, he’s broad planes and sculpted shoulders and endless hours of physical labor making him strong as well as soft. He’s mouthwatering. “I’m—” Clearing your throat gently, you avert your eyes and move toward the door. “I’m not upset to be able to clear the air, though.”

He nods, understanding that sentiment. “Still, I say we don’t tell them anything for at least two weeks.” He poses, flashing you an evil grin. “Whadaya say?”

The sweet playfulness of it is enough to make you nod your agreement, even though you know there won't be much to say. But you'll go back to your life after this weekend with less of a hole in your heart, so that will be something to be grateful for if nothing else. "Alright. You're on."

His feet are in the flip flops he had dug out of the bag and he grabs his sunglasses. “Do you want to get your sunglasses?” He asks, knowing it will be hard to read without squinting out in the summer sun.

"Right!" Too distracted by looking at him – or trying not to look at him – you had forgotten to grab yours out of your purse. Now you double back and dig into the deep bag, only to frown...keep digging...dig more...and groan. "Shit," you huff, letting your head drop to your chest momentarily in annoyance. "Looks like I forgot them. That's going to be annoying as hell."

It’s not often Joel gets to feel like a knight in shining armor. Mainly reaching something from the top shelf at the grocery store for a shorter woman. Now he gets to be a little more valiant. He hands them to you. “Take mine. It’ll be hard to read without them.” He adds when it looks like you are going to protest.

"It's okay." Any sort of kindness from him seems like more than you deserve considering you had believed him capable of spreading an awful rumor for more than ten years. "I'm sure there will be some kind of shade out there."

He chuckles, “as long as I can throw a scrap of fabric over my eyes, I’m good.” He almost makes a joke about your top, but it’s not like you’ve been on the best of terms for the past twelve years. He might have said that before you stopped talking to him, but he has more couth now.

"I wish I was ladylike enough to carry a handkerchief or something," you joke, knowing how stupid it sounds but maintaining that it would be a nice, genteel gesture to make. "I'd offer it to you in exchange."

He hums as you both come out of the cottage. “That’s alright. I’m sure there’s also towels at the pool.” He feels a little jittery and he tries to keep his steps light.

There are a hell of a lot more people around now then there were earlier. Your old classmates are swarming the patio and the back of the hotel with drinks, chatting away and filling out nametags, mingling on the other side of the pool.

“I think a drink is needed.” Joel grunts as he eyes the group of people. “Wanna open a tab on the room? We can settle it later or I’ll pay for it.”

“Our siblings paid for the room,” you shoot him a grin. “They can pay for our drinks, too.”

Joel smirks, figuring it serves them right for being meddling assholes. “You’re right.”

“Should we get something grossly overpriced to start out with?” All hotel pool bars have specialty and high priced cocktails, and that’s the least Ivy and Tommy owe you right now for trying to force you and Joel into bed together.

“Can you see me drinking a ‘Sex on the beach’?” He asks, almost embarrassed by the name when he says it out loud. He’s not a prude but it was better than the Buttery Nipple shot advertised below that.

The menu looks fairly standard but you catch a glimpse of a bright blue cocktail floating by on a tray beside a tiki glass that clearly holds a Mai Tai inside. “Are the Blue Hawaiians glittery?”

“Yes madam.” The bartender behind the pool side bar is shirtless and obviously in his early twenties. “Would you like one? They are delicious.”

“Why the hell not?” You shrug your shoulders and give him your room number. “Let’s drink some glitter.”

Joel chuckles at your decision and lifts a shoulder himself. “Might as well make it two.” He tells him. “If I’m going to drink girlie cocktails, might as well piss glitter.”

“That’s the spirit,” you agree, smothering a giggle.

He rolls his eyes slightly and turns to lean on the bar while the order is being filled. Glancing out over at the pool so he doesn't stare at you. "Is that Brian?" He asks, narrowing his eyes slightly as he asks. His sight is not as good as it could be, but he refuses to go to the optometrist.

“Brian Turcotte?” Swiveling on the spot, you glance across the pool to see one of Joel’s old baseball teammates with a woman you don’t recognize. “Yeah, that’s him. Less hair, but that’s him.”

"Huh." He snorts in amusement and rolls his eyes. "Glad to see that he is just as fucking loud as he was back then."

“Guess he found someone to put up with him, though,” you say, nodding to the woman beside him as she wraps her arm around his waist.

"Good for him." He hums and considers the old adage that there is someone for everyone. "Look, there's a couple of chairs." He points out. "Do you want to grab them and I'll bring the drinks over?"

“Sure.” But you point to the drinks being made and then to him. “Remember, those are billed to the room.”

"Oh, absolutely." Joel promises, crossing his heart playfully.

“Good.” With a nod, you make your way around the pool to the chairs he pointed out in the other end of the patio.

It only takes a few more minutes to get the drinks and they are very glittery. Signing the bill that charges the drinks to the credit card on the room, Joel smirks as he adds a generous tip and nods to the bartender and turns to take the drinks over to you and the chairs you have been holding.

"Shiny." You grin, reaching for the hurricane glass of swirling blue drink with gold glitter whirling about inside. "What should we drink to?"

Joel straddles the chair and leans back into it. He thinks about it for a moment and then offers his drink up. "To rekindling old relationships." He offers.

"One hundred percent." The clink of your glasses is welcome, and you take just a moment to hope that he doesn't notice the way you fluster before taking a sip of your drink. "Ooo," your eyes open wide. "That is good."

He takes a sip and is actually surprised by the fruity, smooth taste of it. He is still more of a beer drinker, but doesn't mind this at all. "Not too bad." He agrees. "So what book are you reading?"

"Something irreverent." Holding up the black and white paperback in your hand so he can see the cover, you recite the full title from memory. "Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It came out a couple of years ago and I really like Terry Pratchett's stuff."

“Don’t think I’ve read that.” He admits easily. “Any good?”

"I like it so far." Almost as much as you like this drink, and you take another sip with a happy hum. "It's...hard to explain. But it's funny and introspective. Which I appreciate when I spend most of everyday staring at charts."

He snorts. “No, staring at blueprints that make no fucking sense, is the best part of my day.” Joel jokes. “Seriously, this one asshole designer has every door opening backwards and the windows off center.”

“I hate lazy work. Most of my apprenticing years were spent cleaning up senior architect’s bullshit and I hate it.” It has seemed like twice as much crap as any of the other recent graduates had to deal with, but you were the only woman in the office so you took it as a miracle that the partners didn’t want you taking minutes at meetings and fetching coffee.

“Yeah.” Joel nods. “Half the time when I order headers for a project, I have to go back to the plans and call the company to ask if they really undersized the structural support. The engineers have to be called in and it’s a goddamn mess.”

A warm, naive, hopeful part of you wants to suggest that Joel should start taking contracts from your firm instead, but that’s far too intimate of a suggestion for someone you just reconnected with after twelve years. He would think you were crazy. Or worse, think you were flirting and back away from it. From you. Apparently those feelings you always had for Joel Miller really are imbedded firmly as hell in your psyche. “Thank god somebody understands,” you say instead, raising your glass in a friendly salute to him.

“To talking shop on vacation.” Joel snorts. “Our siblings will kill us.” Your laugh makes him smile and he sips the drink again. “I know you wanted to an architect like your dad, but do you like it?” Now that you are talking to him again, he wants to know about the last twelve years. Still finding you just as beautiful as before, maybe more so since you have seem to grow into your skin and wear it more confidently.

“It’s gratifying,” you admit, a touch flustered to find him paying such steady attention to you, but you hope you aren’t showing it. “To be able to look at a building and know it all works and stands and will lay because I designed it just right? That’s…It sounds silly but it’s kind of a rush. Like it makes me wish I could get out there with the contractor teams and actually help build, but I am not good at the practical applications.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t.” Joel hums. “You just need to work with a contractor you trust and respects you enough to show you around the site without being a dick about it.”

“Well,” you feel brave and warm and ever so slightly cheeky having him sitting here with you. “Maybe one day I’ll work with you, and you can be the magical unicorn contractor who doesn’t look down on female architects.”

“Gotta girl on my construction crew now.” Joel admits with a small shrug. “I’ll work with you, no problem.” Of course you could just be paying lip service to the idea, but it’s an idea that Joel wouldn’t mind at all.

“I’d like that,” you hum, finding your cheeks warm and the butterflies in your belly flapping to life.

He watches you fluster slightly and tilts his head. "Maybe we can find a project to work on together." He shrugs. "If you like my work. You probably need to see it first."

“I have a feeling I’ll love it.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them and you fluster all over again.

Joel smirks slightly but he doesn’t say anything, just taking a sip of the glittery drink that is fast growing on him.

A slight moment of hesitation comes with a press of your lips, but you take another sip of your drink and decide to ask out of an abundance of good memories. “Are you still playing guitar?”

“Less now.” Joel admits, although the guitar is still sitting on its stand in his living room. “Not as much as when I was trying to get Sarah to sleep and she liked the sound.”

“That’s so sweet.” The mental image sticks in your chest and settles inside like it’s giving your heart a hug. “I bet she would still love to hear you play.”

“Only sometimes.” He chuckles, smiling at her sometimes bossy demands for him to play. “But she thinks my music is ‘too old’.”

“That seems like your right as a father.” You lean back in the patio chair and set your forgotten book in your lap. He is far more compelling than the novel anyway. “Old music and embarrassing jokes.”

He snorts. “She’s already got a sassy sense of humor.” He admits proudly, “her and Tommy play off each other on who’s gonna annoy me most.”

“Sounds like a pretty ideal childhood if you ask me.” He didn’t. You know that. But it sounds like he’s putting every ounce of himself into raising his little girl, and if that doesn’t make you a little misty-eyed over the man all over again, nothing will.

“Oh yeah.” He sighs. “I just hope that she doesn’t hate me for being too corny.” His tone is morose but he’s smirking.

"She'll have some years of hating it, I'm sure. But that's the beauty of it. When she comes around again she'll cherish it." Without realizing it, you have almost reached the end of your drink already. It's just a warm day and the cold, sweet drink has hit the spot – not to mention it gives you something to do with your mouth besides embarrass yourself in front of Joel.

He might be a little alarmed that you’ve sucked the drink down, but his own is almost gone and he waves down at roaming server. “Hey, can we get another of those glittery drinks?” He asks. “For both of us, please?”

“I swear I’ll switch to water after, you grin, not wanting him to think that you’re here to party or be irresponsible or anything like that. “That was just so much tastier than I expected.”

“All things considered?” Though you don’t explicitly say it, you mean the rumor that circulated about you during school. “I’d rather not add to the gossip at all.”

“Yeah.” His grin slips and he frowns slightly. “You think she started the rumor? Just said it was from me?”

“The more I think about it?” You frown and shuffle backward in your seat. “Probably.”

“That’s fucking shitty.” He doesn’t want to make you think about bad shit all weekend, but he had been thinking about it since finding out that you had thought he had started those rumors.

“It is.” You can’t deny that, and to him you wouldn’t. Tisha did shitty things to both of you and that is an odd sort of bonding point.

“I wish we had this conversation twelve years ago.” Even if you wouldn’t have trusted him enough to date him, he hated you being so heartbroken over the lies. Losing Tisha since you would have seen it as a betrayal that she was dating the boy who ruined your life. Even if he would never wish Sarah away, he wishes you had talked.

“I do, too.” The pit in the bottom of your stomach says you know you should have, and now it’s too late now. Too late to get him back into your life in the way that you want him. In the way that he apparently used to want you.

Both of you seem lost in your own thoughts until the next round of drinks are brought over and Joel signs for them. Handing you the fresh one and taking your empty glass to give to the server.

The lull in conversation seems to be where you both falter, and luckily or unluckily for both of you this is exact time that former class president, class reunion organizer, and all-around busybody Serena Sorenson chooses to butt into the small bubble that you and Joel have created for yourselves.

“Well heeeeeeeeeeeey.” Joel tries not to wince at the almost ear piercing greeting. It seems that over the years that her voice has gone higher, instead of coming out of the baby pitch she had used in school. “I couldn’t imagine I would run into you two getting cozy.”

"Time heals all wounds," you offer, trying not to cringe at the ear piercing tone of her voice. "Isn't that what they say?"

“Is that what you are doing?” She tilts her head curiously, obviously delighted to perhaps get some good information out of this little meet up. “Burying the hatchet?”

"Something like that." It isn't any of her business, and despite having a very strong drink in your system you're not inclined to give away details to someone you wouldn't even trust in fetching your mail.

Joel could almost giggle at the way that she seems to deflate but she turns towards him. “I’m surprised Tisha isn’t here.” She hums. “What is she up to these days?” He huffs and takes a nonchalant sip of his drink before he answers her. “Dying.” He answers dryly.

When she looks positively stricken and confused by that answer, you swallow a snort and look up at your former classmate innocently. "We're all dying a little from the day we're born, aren't we?"

“That’s not funny, Joel Miller.” She hisses but his answer does the trick because she immediately spots someone else to talk to and rushes off.

That suppressed snort comes out full force when she scurries away from you by the pool and you're shaking with otherwise silent laughter when you look back up at Joel. "Well I thought it was funny."

"I thought it was too." Joel laughs himself and shrugs. "Maybe we just need to stand up and make announcements?" He suggests. "I tell them that Tisha ran off to join a cult or whatever the fuck she did when Sarah was four months old and you tell them that they can all kiss your ass if they think you would have slept with that prick."

“Let none of us forget the man was thirty years old the year this rumor hit,” you huff, but shake your head and simply brush it off as best you can. It was a long time ago and you can see now the level of malice and jealousy in what was said.

"So yeah, wouldn't he be like the Crypt Keeper now?" Joel jokes, wrinkling his nose playfully. Sarah already tells him that he's old and he's around the same age as the coach would have been when those rumors started.

“By Sarah’s terms I’m sure he’s older than the universe,” you joke, picking up on his line of thought.

"Ancient." He snorts and shakes his head. "Although she wants a sibling." He huffs. "As if I'm not too old."

“You’re not.” At the mental image of Joel cradling an infant in his arms with his older daughter by his side, your heart seems to clench and your eyes soften to give you an unintentionally dreamy expression. You used to daydream about being with him. Growing up with him and becoming an adult version of yourself with him. A couple. With a home. Marriage. A family. All of it. Now it’s like your foolish heart is making up for lost time. “Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

He doubts that, he's often tired and churlish when he's been working too hard, which is too often lately. Sarah can pull him out of his funk, but it's been so long since he's been in a relationship, he wouldn't even know how to go about one. "I don't—" He turns towards you and sees the almost day dream look on your face, wondering what you are thinking about. "—know about that." He murmurs.

“The Joel Miller that I was friends with would have made a great partner,” you contend, although you nearly mumble it out of flustered embarrassment. “You’re still him. Even if it’s not the Joel that’s in the surface anymore.”

"Now you're just trying to make me blush." Joel huffs, secretly pleased that you would think of him so favorably. "Doing a damn good job of it too."

“I’m just being honest,” you mumble, but you really are just telling him the truth. The fact that the truth makes you feel fuzzy and light is an extra. “Booze makes me honest,” you tell him with a shrug.

"Yeah?" He smirks slightly and leans over towards your chair. "So tell me something else that's honest."

Every single one of your nerves lights on fire when he comes closer to you, and you’re not sure how much of your second drink you’ve had but you’re feeling much more intoxicated than just one or one and a half cocktails should make you. Is that cedar in his cologne? It Smells like a campfire in winter. “You grew up really fucking good,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Joel's eyes hold your gaze, his smirk growing a little wider, daring. "Yeah?" He asks gruffly. "Single construction worker dad does it for you?" He asks, looking down at your lips before back up into your eyes.

“Guess so.” Joel Miller is still what does it for you, apparently. Even after a decade of thinking he believes the worst in you. And you were too gullible to think anything except what you were told. But now? Now with him looking at you like that? You could melt all over again.

"Good to know." He winks at you and somehow manages to make taking a sip of his drink both alluring and ridiculous as he sucks on the straw.

“Christ, Joel,” you chastise, all but huffing at him even though you’re doing it out of attraction rather than annoyance.

Joel chuckles, feeling a little more lighthearted than he had been before he arrived. Nothing will happen right now, he wont let it, not when you are tipsy. Still, it feels good to flirt with you, to be honest with it. "I'll be good." He promises. "For now."

“For now.” The huff is still thick in your voice, but the grin on your face is almost giddy. “Is that a promise?”

"Depends." Joel laughs and shrugs. "All depends on how drunk we get."

“Well…it’s all on Tommy and Ivy’s dime,” you joke and make yourself shrug. Just in case he means the only way he would ever let that happen with you now is intoxicated. Because that’s not going to happen. Not for you. It’s full and enthusiastic sober consent or nothing at all, in your book.

"Yeah." Joel looks down at his drink and decides that he's had enough. He sets it down next to the chair and glances back at the pool. "You know, this place has really changed." He muses, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning back in the lounger.

“I don’t know that I was ever here before.” Just like you were never able to trace the distinct plane of his bare chest and stomach before, either. But you sure as hell can right now, as long as you don’t get caught staring.

“Sure you did.” Joel snorts. “Don’t you remember that weekend we went water skiing in tenth grade?” It was before the rumors started, so you had been with them. “With the upper classmen?”

“Was that here?” To be honest you hadn’t gone looking for any water beyond the pool, so it’s a shock to realize that he’s right as you swivel your head to look around the resort.

"Yep." He hums and closes his eyes. "That was a good weekend, wasn't it?"

"It was." You had sat with him at the bonfire that night, wearing his sweatshirt and wishing and hoping that he would kiss you, but it never happened. The disappointment was heart wrenching for a young teen, but you had survived by the sheer joy of being close to him for a while.

“I thought about that night a lot.” Joel admits, his eyes still closed. “I was too much of a fucking wimp to kiss you like I wanted to.”

"Yeah?" The hope in your eyes must be obvious, but you're not sure you care. It was a long time ago. A time that feels like a whole other life. But that teenage girl is still locked somewhere deep inside you and she is so, so hopeful for that dreamy and romantic moment she never got.

“Yeah.” Joel sighs softly. “I never regret my daughter for a second, but…”

"But." You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "What if?"

“Does that make me a bad dad?” Joel asks, opening his eyes and looking over at you seriously.

"I don't think so...not really." Somehow, without meaning to or even realizing it, your hand has ended up right next to his on the arms of your side-by-side chairs. "You're not saying you wish Sarah was different. You're saying...I think you're saying...that you wonder what about her might be different. If...you know..."

“If she was our kid.” Joel finishes the unspoken comment and nods. “Yeah. I love everything about her. She’s perfect. But I wonder sometimes how amazing she would be, if.” He chuckles. “I guess I hate that I saddled her with a mom who walked away.”

“It’s okay to wonder.” Your pinkie touches his and you wonder if you’re being too forward. “Just as long as you don’t get the wondering mixed up with reality. Keep on loving her just as she is.”

“Never a chance of anything else.” He promises, the proud smile curving his lips. “She’s sweet and kind, funny and sassy.” He laughs. “Amazing smile. Sings pretty good too.”

“Sounds like you have nothing to worry about, then.” The place where your hands touch is warm and welcoming, and feels like a promise somehow. “She’s just like you.”

Joel doesn’t look down, but he turns his hand over and offers it to you. “She’s better than me in every way.” He promises. “She’s made me the man I am today.”

"Too far. Got it." An understanding nod and a wave of your hand are the way you try to brush the sentence away, and you wrinkle your nose, wishing you hadn't said it at all. "Forget I said anything. Go back to triceratops."

“No, nooooooo.” Joel shakes his head and swallows. “No going back from that one.” He would never stop thinking about it. Ever.

"I was just being honest." And vastly oversharing, but you studiously avoid meeting his eyes just in case he can read how much you want him in those orbs. You've already made things awkward enough as it is.

“Yeah?” He abandons the movie and shifts to turn towards you, finding it absolutely cute that you won’t even look at him after admitting something so…personal. “Only certain things or would anything do?” He asks, dying to see how embarrassed you get and to fuel the fantasies that will no doubt be front and center in his dreams. “And how did you discover this particular kernel of knowledge?” He props his elbow on the back of the couch and leans his head against his fist, grinning.

"Certain things," you huff, groaning and dropping your burning hot face into your hands in dismay. "Fuck, Joel, stop looking at me like that before I burst into flames."

“Like what?” He huffs innocently.

If you're honest with yourself, you're actually not entirely sure how he is looking at you because you're too afraid to look up. You just know that if he looks into your eyes you're going to give yourself away. "Like that."

“I’m not looking at you any kind of way.” He’s lying, but he’s dying to know about this sudden revelation more. “I’m just curious.” He confesses.

"You're naughty, Joel Miller," you accuse playfully, finally too curious to not take a teeny, tiny peak at him. He's grinning at you like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream and you know you've been utterly caught out but you just can't bring yourself to care when you see how giddy his expression is.

“Never said I wasn’t, but pot? Meet kettle.” He cackles. “I apparently have nothing on you.”

"I am a modern women and entitled to like whatever I like." It's such a poor excuse for an answer, but it's more like you're trying to do your best to figure out if he's excited by you feeling that way or just any woman feeling that way.

“Completely agree, but did you just wake up one day and decide you wanted to try anal?” He asks, leaning closer. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

"Inquiring minds, huh?" You really can't help but laugh at this point. It's a very male response to be so interested in the fact that you admitted to liking anal sex, but you can't begrudge him being curious when you're the one who opened the door to the conversation. "My ex," you admit with a little shrug. "Was very big on wanting to experiment."

“And you were surprised to find out you like it?” He asks.

"I was actually." At the time you had agreed out of sheer curiosity, when your boyfriend-at-the-time had begged you to try it with him. The results were, as Joel says, surprising. "I liked it a hell of a lot more than he did, which was even more surprising."

Joel hums and pokes his lip out, impressed. “Good for you.” He smirks. “He’s lucky you didn’t want to give him the same treatment.”

"Nah," you shake your head and end up laughing under your breath. "Turned out he was more squeamish than he thought. And I'm never gonna push someone to do something they're not fully on board for."

He nods, "I can agree with that. Let me guess, he didn't think about the actual realities of anal?" He can't say that he's ever wanted to have anything inside him, but at least he understood that if something like that happened, there would be stuff to deal with.

“Let’s just say research and forethought were not his strong suits,” you agree with a smirk.

"Fun." He says dryly, even as he's sharing that grin and he wonders how you would react if you knew he wasn't as experienced as you in that department.

“Yeah, well…” one tiny shrug of one shoulder is just a way to brush off the whole thing, but the expression on your face never falters. “He’s an ex for a reason.”

"How long ago was that?" He asks softly, wondering how long it has been since you were with someone. He knows his own history is woefully bare, but he would tread carefully if you are fresh out of a relationship.

"About..." It takes a second to think back, digging through the history in your head. "Three years ago. Boston. Before Dad died."

"I'm sorry about your dad." He had heard, but he hadn't thought his presence would be welcomed at the funeral. He didn't like them anyway, they were for the living. The dead were already gone. "He was a good man."

"He liked you." It seems like such a small commendation to say it out loud, but your father was an excellent judge of character if nothing else. "When...when everything happened and you weren't coming over anymore and I wasn't taking your calls...we actually fought about it. He was so sure I was wrong and that you wouldn't have started any kind of rumor about me." Your heart clenches, regret filling your lungs so you have to take an extra deep breath just to get a little air. "I should have listened."

"You were told a lie by the person you should have been able to the trust the most." Joel sighs softly. "I'm sorry that you fought because of me. I'm not worth that, sweetheart."

"Yes you are." Of that, you have absolutely no doubt. Not anymore. Even just a day with him as an adult has reminded you of every good thing he ever did for you as a friend. Every good thing he ever said. "You're worth a hell of a lot more than either of us ever gave you credit for, I think. And that's my own fault. Because there was a time when I knew you were worth the world."

"Don't worry about that." He doesn't want you to feel anymore guilt or shame for the past. It isn't worth it. "We are mending things now."

"Yeah." He's still leaning in close to you, and you nudge him slightly in an affectionate gesture. "We are. Sorry to bring the mood down."

"Nothing to apologize for." He snorts. "We are just covering all the topics today."

"Apparently so." You try for a laugh, falling a little short and coming out with a soft huff.

"Anything else?" He asks with a grin. "I'm getting old, you don't want to shock me too much. Might have a fuckin' heart attack."

"If talking about anal didn't do it," you tease, shoving him slightly as if in admonishment, "Then I'm sure you're safe."

"Not like I've done it…" Joel shrugs casually, pretending like he's not giving you a lot of new information. "So yeah."

"Never?" You ask curiously.

He snorts. "No way Tisha would do that." He reminds you, even as a teenager, she had been very vocal about being against that kind of sexual activity. "And it's not like I've dated a lot since. Couldn't imagine asking the few one night stands I've had if I could fuck their ass."

"Fair enough." When he puts it like that, it's obvious. Tisha was never one to do anything but what she wanted. Never willing to try anything that wouldn't immediately benefit her somehow.

He hums and looks back at the movie, less interested in that than the current conversation between the two of you but he also doesn't want to act like a creep.

Even if you hadn’t seen the movie a half dozen times before, you still wouldn’t be too interested in watching it now. Now that you’ve actually talked about sex and no move has been made at all, you’re starting to think you were entirely wrong that he had flirted with you at all.

Joel honestly doesn't know what to say. He thinks it would be really shitty to just ask you if you want to have sex, it would be that sleazy kind of move that plenty of men pull, but he's not most men. But he doesn't know how to move past the end of that conversation. He smirks when he sees the raptor push her head through the brush. "Clever girl." He hums along with the character right before he is killed.

It breaks the spell of tension beautifully, making both of you laugh. When you shift slightly on the couch you end up leaning closer to him by accident, but his arm is right there, stopping you from moving away again.

"You don't have to move away." He offers, turning and giving you a smile. "Spread out."

“You don’t mind me in your space?” You ask quietly, a little awed by the offer.

He almost says something sarcastic, but your expression is hopeful so he just shakes his head. "Not at all." His voice is a little raspy, but he doesn't think you notice.

A small adjustment has you leaning shoulder to shoulder, and you kick your legs up onto the couch to spread out like he suggested. It’s nearly intimate like this, and a warm feeling of anticipation settles over you where the tension used to be.

Joel relaxes as much as he can with you pressed against him. The ache in his groin one that's hard to ignore, but luckily you haven't noticed that he's hard as a rock. Your little blanket thrown over his lap as well as yours, hiding it.

That’s it for concentration as far as either one of you is concerned. It’s all shot to hell but in the most individual and silent ways, dowsing you both in pure torture as the movie ends. If you have one more vivid and detailed thought about shoving the throw blanket aside to swallow his cock you’re going to explode, and he deserves better than your horny nonsense. If only you knew how very similarly he is thinking.

"Break before the next movie?" Joel asks, almost a little desperate. Even if he had jerked off in the shower, he might need to rub one out again if he's going to have you leaning against him for another movie.

“Sure.” Your breakfast was finished hours ago, and you need something to do to take your mind off how badly you want him, so you pop up from the couch immediately and hope like hell your shorts don’t have an obvious damp spot at the crotch where you’re so slick that you’re basically a damn waterfall. “Popcorn?”

"Sounds good." He chokes out and stands quickly. "I'm gonna— bathroom." He makes sure that he doesn't turn back around so hopefully you didn't see the way his basketball shorts were tented out in a very obvious way.

“Get your shit together,” you huff at yourself out loud as soon as he’s left the room. “Fucking hell woman…”

Once the door is closed, Joel hisses, reaching down and squeezing his cock. "Get your shit together." He hisses to himself, annoyed that he is acting like a fucking teenager. This isn't like him, he normally jerks off a few times a week, ignoring his sex drive because of his responsibilities. He closes his eyes and thinks of bills or the goddamn jobsite that is driving him crazy, anything to make his cock go limp. Sighing when he can move over to the toilet and take a piss.

The second movie is just starting when he comes out again, and you’ve assembled cold drinks with your movie snacks in front of the sofa. A quick inspection in the long closet mirror proves that you haven’t made the damp spot in your shorts that you feared and you swear to yourself that you’re going to be calmer for the second movie of the day.

"Sorry." He hates that you have set everything up, while he was trying to get control of his hormones in the bathroom.

"Don't worry about it," you promise him. You've shifted four times on the sofa already, wondering if you're still allowed to lean against him this time, too.

Joel throws his arm back on the edge of the sofa, inviting you to lean against him if you want and looking like he's sprawling out himself if you don't. Wondering what the fuck you are wearing that smells so damn good.

It's worth the chance, you decide, shifting closer to him and tucking yourself into his side to get comfortable. The warmth of him is immense, almost to the point where you shuck the little blanket altogether, although you know the two have nothing to do with each other.

When you settle against him, Joel slides his arm down to your shoulder. Curling you closer to him as he chuckles. "Sarah loves this movie." He admits quietly.

"The second one over the first? Really?" That makes you chuckle softly. "So she's a dinosaur kid, then?"

"She likes the fact that Kelly doesn't look like her dad." Joel admits, shooting you a self conscious smile and shrugging one shoulder.

"Nah." You shake your head slightly, comfortable and settled under his arm. "You're better looking than Jeff Goldblum."

"High praise." He barks out a small laugh. "I have it on good authority that Jeff Goldblum is 'kind of hot', God help me."

"Oh, he absolutely is." Taking a chance, you glance up at Joel and offer him a half-smile. Self-conscious, perhaps, but hopeful and honest. "You're still hotter."

His grunt is surprised and he can't help but look down at your lips. "Am I?"

"Yeah." The heat rises all the way up your body when you realize where he's looking, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. "Without a doubt."

Joel licks his lips and edges closer to you. "Is that right?" He's humming the question but he really doesn't expect an answer, too busy praying that he's reading these signals right.

"Absolutely." It's a miracle you can even hear him over the way your blood in pounding in your ears and your heart is throbbing in your chest, but somehow his words cut through everything. Even through the blossoming fuzzy quality to your vision as you narrow your sights between his eyes and lips. "Cross my heart."

He doesn't pull back, leaning closer and he can feel the slight exhale of your breath against his lips. So close to you and he decides to just go for it. "Good to know." He murmurs right before he presses his lips to yours.

The electricity in the room snaps and crackles as the tension between you pulls so tight that it finally brings you together. Your hand flies up to steady you, fingertips digging into his t-shirt and holding on tight as the kiss deepens without hesitation.

His head fills with you, your scent, your taste. How you feel against him. His other arm comes around you, pulling you closer and dragging you onto his lap.

It all happens fast, but the swift movements are fluid. The blanket hits the floor, your leg swings over Joel's lap, your fingers find purchase in his short curls, and your hips rolls down on his as you deepen the kiss and sweep your tongue through the moan he lets out when he opens up to let you in.

You are aggressive. Not that Joel minds in the slightest. He actually loves that, his hands slide down your back and grip your ass firmly as he twitches against your covered core. "Fuck." He gasps when you pull back slightly.

“I—uh—did I hurt you?” You ask, panting for breath and anxiously searching his eyes to see if you did something he didn’t like

Joel is panting, trying to catch his breath and all he can do is shake his head and grab the back of your neck to drag you back down for another kiss.

Good enough for you, you think wildly right in the second before all coherent thought leaves your head besides the moan in your throat when Joel’s hands squeeze your ass again.

He can't touch enough of your, grunting in frustration when your shorts are too tight for him to get his fucking hand down the back of them. Taking it out on your mouth and applying a little aggression of his own when he bites your bottom lip and tugs on it gentle. "Take your fucking pants off." He hisses against your lips before he kisses you again.

You’ve never taken an order so fast in your entire life. As quickly as you possibly can without breaking the hungry kiss for too long at a time, your shorts and panties are blindly discarded somewhere across the room without ever having to leave his lap.

Groaning, Joel grabs handfuls of your bare ass and moans into your mouth. You are hot, your skin literally hot to the touch and he rocks you on the very prominent hard on under his shorts.

“Yours too, fuck.” You have just enough presence of mind to find the waistband of his shorts when you reach down, groping blindly and shoving your fingers inside his boxers to wrap your fingers around the cock that you swear wasn’t this hard a minute ago.

Joel groans, his head flinging back against the sofa and he rocks up into your grip. "Fuck."

“In a minute,” you admonish, playfully tutting at him like he’s just given you an order instead of groaning out loud.

He manages a breathless laugh, eyes fluttering closed and he shakes his head. "I— fuck, I wasn't planning on this." He confesses. "I don't— I don't have any condoms."

“I don’t either—” But your head tilts as you look down at him, fingers stroking the velvet skin of his cock slowly and watching the way his eyes flutter when you give it a little extra pressure. “But I’ll bet you anything our siblings packed them for us.”

His jaw clenches, stomach heaving and he throws his head back again. "I- probably." His fingers dig into your hip and he manages to slide his hand between your thighs to start stroking your clit. Wanting to give you as much pleasure as you are already giving him.

The way your legs quake at the contact doesn’t escape him, but you’re feeling far too good to even tease him about the sly grin on his face when your head drops forward and you moan sharply into the empty room. “Fuck. We—we should look. Because I need you so damn badly right now.”

"We should." But he doesn't pull his hand away. Instead he is sliding two fingers deep into your pussy and curling them back to make your mouth drop open.

“I—fuck—Joel—” You fall forward in his lap so your forehead presses into his shoulder, holding on to his thick bicep for dear life with one hand while your strokes and his start to find a rhythm together. “Fingers are so fucking thick, oh my god—”

"Pussy's just tight." Joel growls out, cock twitching in your grip as he pants out your name. "You— you gotta let go of my cock if you want me to fuck you." He reasons, even as his fingers continue to pump into your body with the singular goal of making you see stars.

“Under protest,” you admit, huffing a laugh in between moans before putting all of your focus into riding Joel’s fingers and using your now free hands to tear off your shirt and bra. Your tits are gorgeous and Joel has always been a tit man. Lunging up, he captures a nipple in his mouth to start sucking as he finger fucks you until your thighs shake.

The room becomes a jumble of sounds — pants and whines, groans, creaking sofa coils, and the slick wetness of Joel’s fingers being sucked in and out of your pussy at a tempo so furious that you can’t be entirely sure his arm isn’t going to give out. The full effect has your eyes rolling back in your head and your head then falling back, pushing your tits even more toward his face and locking down him entirely as you start to drench his hand in cum.

You are gorgeous when you cum, shaking in his arms and making him groan and feeling like he's about to cum even though you are not even touching his cock.

“Fuck…” The repeating of the word only proves how limited your vocabulary is right now, with your whole world narrowed down to the man underneath you as you float back down to earth in his arms.

He slows his fingers, the slickness of them making him eager to taste your cum and he withdraws them to smirk at your dazed expression as you try to catch your breath. He slips his fingers into his mouth and groans at the tangy sweetness.

The sight of it makes you whine, as though you’re protesting the fact that only your cum is in his mouth and not some other, more substantial, part of you.

"You taste good." He hums, popping his fingers out and smirking at you. He's a little calmed down now, but he still wants to be inside you.

“I’m going to find out how you taste later.” It’s a promise to both of you, and you shiver slightly making it. “First? We need to see if we can find some condoms.”

"You gotta get off my lap, sweetheart." He reminds you.

“Right.” Standing on wobbly legs isn’t easy, but you back off of him and cross the room to where you have your suitcase open on a stand beside the large, comfortable bed.

"Fuck." Joel tears through his own bag, sure that Tommy didn't sneak in some condoms since he hadn't been in the room when he had packed.

“No need to growl, gorgeous.” You hum from behind him. Turning around, you have a full box of condoms in one hand and lube in the other. “My sister either thinks very well of you or somehow knows I’m kinkier than I seem.”

"Thank fucking God." Joel closes his eyes in relief and quickly pulls his shirt off over his head so he is just as naked as you are.

"Thank fucking God," you agree, letting your eyes rake over him hungrily.

He chuckles and he nods towards the bed. "You want to fuck in the bed, or go back to the couch, sweetheart?"

"Bed." Taking a step back to see if the invisible string that attaches you will make him step forward, you grin when your hunch is correct. "We have a hell of a lot more options over here."

"Yes we do." Joel watches you as you back up towards the bed, not turning your back on him. He smirks slightly, enjoying the view and the game as he follows you.

"How do you want me?" The condoms and lube go down on the nightstand beside the bed after you've broken the seal on both items so Joel won't have to waste time fucking with opening the packaging.

"Right now?" He twitches as his cock sways as he moves. "On your back." He chuckles. "Face down ass up is for round two."

"Gladly." In seconds you're up on the bed, tugging a pillow under your head to get comfortable on the bed that had been far too large just last night. Now, Joel's looming frame made it seem just barely big enough.

Reaching for the box, he pulls out a string of condoms and rips one off the length and tosses the rest aside. "Fuck." He groans, watching your thighs part for him. "You are so goddamn gorgeous."

“Been waiting years to hear you say that,” you admit, without even a hint of shame. Everything you had felt for Joel as a young teen was fully justified and you are not going to be shy about making up for all that lost time.

He hums as he opens the condom and enjoys the hungry gaze of your eyes as he pinches the tip of the prophylactic and rolls it down his cock. Squeezing the base and pumping himself lightly. "Been waiting years to say it." He promises as he slides into your welcoming arms.

"Need you, baby." It feels like hours ago that he had his hands on you instead of minutes, and you're already craving him so badly you moan simply at having him near again.

He doesn't answer you, he's too busy settling into the cradle of your thighs and pushing his arms under your back to pull you close as he lines up. "Have me." He promises, pressing his lips to yours right as he starts to push inside you.

If you thought his fingers were thick, it’s no wonder you’re contemplating reach for that lube after only a few inches of his cock. All of Joel is broad, all of him overwhelming in the best sense, and you whine in deep pleasure as he seats all of himself inside you. It makes all of your senses fuzz over and invades every thought, but that is entirely welcome after so many years of missing and wanting him in the depths of your heart.

"It's okay, sweetheart." He murmurs softly, pressing his lips to yours again as he gives you a moment to adjust to him. "I've got you." He kisses around your mouth and down your chin.

“I know.” Lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist feels like coming home in a way you never knew you needed, and you put everything you have into kissing him back. “I’ve got you too.”

"Yes you do." He groans softly, smirking slightly against your lips. "Feels fucking perfect."

“Bet it’ll feel better when you move,” you tease, feeling lightness and joy swell in your chest.

He rolls his eyes and pouts at you. "So I was just supposed to wreck you the first time?"

“Joel Miller,” you smirk at him and roll your hips. “You can wreck me anytime you want.”

He snorts and leans in to kiss you softly before he grins against your lips. “Okay.”

Despite meaning it, you’re grateful when he starts slow, rolling his hips against yours before pulling back just a little at a time with each thrust. You could drown in his kisses, loving having his lips on yours or on your skin the whole time, and start to match his rhythm with the roll of our own body.

You had told him he could wreck you, but he doesn’t like to start out rough and furiously thrusting like he’s running a race. Especially when this is a moment that is years overdue for both of you.

Instead it’s a slow build up to a pace that works for both of you, letting you indulge in long kisses and long strokes of his cock scrubbing against the walls of your sensitive cunt with every thrust. It’s indulgent. Luxurious. And you hope it never ends.

“Glad I didn’t jerk off in the bathroom again.” He pants, chuckling against your pulse as he holds you close and rocks into you. “Would have been embarrassing if you had pressed against me and I wasn’t responding.”

“So glad.” You can agree to that instantly. “You feel so fucking good baby.”

“You feel good.” Joel groans. “Perfect, just like I know you would be.”

“So fucking good—” That gorgeous repetition drips from your lips with a deep moan as his pace increases.

Joel rocks into in a slow, steady pace that makes both of you feel every second of the slide. He’s thankful for the condom, because if it was any more intense, he wouldn’t be able to last to make sure you cum. “Do you need more?” His voice is raspy and hot in your ear. “Can you cum like this or do you need your clit rubbed too?”

“S’good—perfect—” You feel almost dizzy from it, but the way he grinds down into you with every thrust is hitting things inside you that you didn’t even know where there. “Fuck Joel—”

“So you can just cum on my cock?” He loves the way you respond to his voice in your ear, even if it’s just a grunt, you clench around him. Obviously you like to be praised and talked to in bed. “You’re so good to me, sweetheart. Tight little pussy squeezin’ me. Gonna make me blow my load if you don’t stop.”

“We’ve got all—all fucking weekend,” you remind him through gasped pants. And you fully intend to spend the rest of it naked in his arms if he’s up for it.

He chuckles and his hips snap forward with a sharp thrust. “You read my mind, baby.”

When you can think a coherent thought later, you’ll write yourself a note to buy your sister a beautiful souvenir in the hotel’s gift shop. Right now you’re just focused on hanging on to Joel for dear life.

Gradually the pace had moved from slow to needy. The insistent push of his hip giving away the fierceness of his craving for you and his kisses turn to tiny nips of your skin with his teeth.

When you cum the second time it rolls in like a hurricane, washing over you and rocking through your body like it’s about to rearrange your DNA. You know his teeth on your skin have left bruises under the skin, just like his fingers digging into your hip to hold on tight. You know and you absolutely could not care less as you cry his name into the quiet afternoon.

Joel shudders, a shiver racing down his spine when you body bucks and heaves under him, around him. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as he feels his own orgasm rocket that much closer every time your walls flutter around him.

“Come on, baby,” you moan into a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip since he seems to like to nip and bite. “Cum for me.”

"Goddamn." He groans, hips stuttering and he pushes deep, your name falling brokenly from his lips as he fills the condom in a better orgasm than he had this morning.

“Fuck.” A sigh and groan of agreement passes your lips with that word, and your head drops back against the pillow which such a solid thunk that you can’t help but giggle.

"We just did that." There's a smile in his voice, his head buried against your throat. "If you're demanding more, you gotta give me a little bit."

You bury your nose in the crook of his shoulder, muffling a snort, and kiss his sweaty skin when you start laughing again. “Smart ass,” you tease, altogether too fondly.

"Got an ass right here." He huffs. "Think you might have dug your claws into it, you she-cat." He's teasing, having loved ever time your nails dug into his skin, urging him on.

“You liked it,” you remind him, not missing the way he bit and nipped and scratched right back.

"Damned right, I did." He kisses your chin and groans because he has to move, has to pull out of you.

“I say we don’t get dressed,” you propose, accepting his silent offer to cuddle closer when he rolls over onto his side and opens up one arm to you.

"That sounds good to me." He admits, having secured the condom before laying back down and he tosses it on the nightstand to discard later.

“Perfect.” Dusting kisses along his bicep, you rest your head on his arm and sigh happily.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[elliespuns]

Pre-outbreak Joel's arms appreciation!

[wardenparker]

At the Ballet

Joel Miller x female reader A PedroStories Secret Santa Gift!

Rating: General audience, but please remember that this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Cursing, one that got away, slight angst from yearning. Summary: When Tommy's girlfriend gets tickets to the ballet, Sarah is excited to attend. But Joel never could have expected who he would find there, or that he would find himself grateful for a night at at the ballet. Notes: Happy PedroStories Secret Santa 2024 to @pascalispretty! I hope your holiday season is lovely and bright, and that you enjoy your story! Swan Lake was one of the first ballets I ever saw, so that really stuck in my mind, and I loved the idea of Joel finding his way to the arts because Sarah loves them.

“I don’t understand why the hell we’re doing this.” Joel grumbled, inspecting himself in the mirror as Tommy tossed his well-loved plaid flannel back onto the bed and put a sports jacket into his hands instead.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.” Tommy reminded him for the fourteen time.

“Okay, fine.” Joel huffed. He rolled his eyes at the jacket and hung it on the nearest piece of furniture, wondering if he even had a clean button-down shirt in his closet. “I don’t understand why I’m doing this.”

“Because you’re my fucking brother.” Tommy shot back. He’s actually got a real tie on, not a clip on or a bolo, and he’s trying so damn hard for this girl. “And because Sarah is excited to go. So finish getting dressed, you grumpy ass, and I’ll buy you a drink at the theater.”

“You should have led with that.” He’s busting his brother’s chops, but it’s worth doing. Tommy’s girlfriend has been around long enough that she’s been introduced to Sarah and started coming over for dinner semi-regularly, and she had somehow gotten ahold of four tickets to the ballet. Sarah had been thrilled at the news and immediately started planning what she was going to wear and begging her Dad and uncle to take them all out to dinner as well.

And, well, Joel Miller has never been able to deny his daughter anything in the world.

It’s with that in mind that Joel is begrudgingly cleaning himself up tonight. Because his little girl is down the hall putting on a dressed and doing her hair, and she looked so damn much like her mother when he had passed her room earlier that it had made his heart ache. Anything for Sarah. Anything at all.

Ballet Austin is a little bit of a drive away since they live on the edge of the city, but he doesn’t mind. Of anything, Joel actually does like driving. It gives him a sense of peace. Or at least it usually does – right now Sarah, Tommy, and Tommy’s girlfriend Sonja are chatting animatedly about the show that they are all going to see. Swan Lake apparently has a hard plot to follow, if he’s overhearing this right. Or maybe it’s just that ballets have no dialogue. Either way, he doesn’t really care. He’s going for all of them to enjoy themselves, not to understand what the hell is going on onstage.

At least, that was what he thought.

He had never expected to open the program in his seat and see you there. Clear as day, though, your photograph and name with the character name Odile were listed right there on the page listing principal dancers.

Suddenly, Joel is the biggest ballet convert in the world.

There is plenty of good reason for it, though. More than just being you, the dancing is gorgeous. Not that he doesn’t remember what a good dancer you were when you were younger. Teaching him how not to embarrass himself at the homecoming dance. Doing the choreography from Footloose and goofing off instead of playing whatever sport was supposed to be the assignment in gym class.

He knew you had taken dance classes, but he had never really bothered to find out more. To ask what kind. To pay some damn attention and get to know you better. He should have been so much better. He knew it even then, which is why he could do nothing but kick himself in the pants when Alex Draper asked you out at the beginning of junior year of high school before he could summon up the courage.

That was the year Sarah’s mother had moved to town, and he had started dating the new girl instead. The whole thing stank of what might have been.

******

Sarah begs Joel to take her to the stage door after the show, hoping to meet some of the dancers and tell them how amazing their performance was. She’s always liked theater and this wouldn’t be the first time that he took her to a stage door, but the chance that he might run into you has him smoothing his shirt and straightening his tie and practically thanking Tommy for forcing him to dress nicely.

“What’s got Joel so self-conscious?” Sonja whispered from the top of the alley where she and Tommy waited and cuddled in the dim streetlight.

“You accidentally managed to lead him right to the first girl he ever loved.” Tommy whispers back, chuckling quietly into her shoulder as he leaves a kiss on her neck. “One of the dancers that Sarah wants to meet so desperately.”

“And we’re back here?” Sonja huffs. She smirks and nudges Tommy, obviously trying to point him down the alley. “Joel Miller as a boy in love? I gotta see this.”

Sarah is, in point of fact, the only fan at this stage door tonight. And while Joel hates that on principle because it means that she doesn’t really have anyone to share her unbridled enthusiasm with, he’s also glad. Her presence there is delighting the dancers and every single one of them is stopping to sign her program and take a photo with her, all of them giving her a big hug in the process.

The young woman who danced Odette is lingering, seemingly waiting for something or someone, or maybe just enjoying the attention, when the stage door opens again, and you walk through.

“Sweetie, come over here!” Odette calls, waving you over. This is what she was waiting for, apparently, and her smile beams as she introduces young Sarah Miller to the dancer she became so enamored with during the show.

It really isn’t too often that you’re asked to sign programs, and you are beyond flattered to have Sarah ask for an autograph and a photo. You stand and chat with the young teen for a few minutes before even registering that she is young enough that she should have chaperones nearby, and that is when you look up to find him staring at you.

“Joel?” It has been almost fifteen years since you saw him last. Since your high school graduation day. But you would still recognize him anywhere.

“Hey.” His hands are in his pockets, but he still has that lopsided grin and perfect single dimple that made all the girls swoon. He still aims it like a weapon, always able to make the whoever he was talking to feel like the only person in the room.

“Hey yourself.” The warmth in your cheeks is unmistakable, and for good reason. Joel Miller didn’t just grow up good, he grew up damn sexy.

“Dad, you know her?” Sarah wheels around with a bright, excited look on her face.

“Dad?” Your eyebrow is raised, but you do remember hearing about Joel getting married shortly after high school, and something vague about him having a kid. Your mother had given you the news she heard while out grocery shopping one day. Just the same way that she had given you the news a year or two later when that same habit of grocery store eavesdropping yielded the news that Joel was now single again after a nasty divorce.

“This is my daughter, Sarah.” He introduces her proudly, both hands on her shoulders and a puffed up chest saying more than simple words ever could about how much he adores his little girl. He introduces you to Sarah next, explaining you used to be friends in school. “She—we— really loved the show tonight.”

“Well, thank you. Everyone in the cast is just incredible.”

“Yeah, you are!” Sarah chirps, her eyes wide as she looks between you and her father. “Dad! You should invite your friend to come have ice cream with us!”

Joel’s smile grows, tucking into the corner of his mouth like a secret, but he lobs that fastball of an offer back to you politely. “I’m sure she has other things to do tonight, honey. Maybe another time, sweetie.” He doesn’t want to say no. He can feel his heart hammering out of his chest and he wonders how you managed to get even more beautiful when you were already the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his whole life.

Looking back to your friends, you lend them a quick smile before facing Joel again and shaking your head. “Not at all,” you tell him – both of them, technically. “Free as a bird.”

Your smile grows, and Sarah matches it. “Free as a swan,” she insists.

“Right.” Joel joins in that laugh, air rushing out of his chest as he gets nervous all over again. “Free as a swan.”

He’s not going to fuck it up this time. He’s not. He’s not going to let you slip through his fingers a second time…