Warnings: swearing, smoking, drinking, mild drug use, insinuation of traumatic events.
A/N: Oh my gosh I can't believe we are finally back! It feels so good to be writing and posting again, starting off hot with Golden Oaks. This story will have plenty of ups and downs and twists and turns that you know we love to write. As of right now there is no set posting schedule as we both have very busy lives, but rest assured we are actively writing and will be posting as frequently as we can. We hope you stick around for this one, you won't want to miss it.
A glorious collaboration with my bestie and cowriter @gretavanmoon.
Listen: Apple Music
JAKE POV
The Catskill Mountains, 1987
‘You’re back with KROQ 106.7… The Catskills hottest spot on the dial for today's biggest rock, pop, and everything in between. I’m your girl, Jojo Marigold and I’m here to make your summer not only sound, but feel like you’re livin’ in dreamland, baby.
It’s finally Friday, it’s a scorcher out there guys, 90 degrees and the temperature is only rising as the weekend approaches. So you know what that means… Gentlemen, lose the t-shirts, and ladies… Ohhhh ladies, we know you’re already out there in your bikinis ready to throw on that suntan oil and soak! It! Up!
We’ve got the phones lit up and the request lines are open for the next hour, so give me a ring at 1-800-845-KROQ…that’s 1-800-845-5765, and I’ll spin whatever gets your weekend rockin’. Don’t touch that dial… you’re riding into summer with Jojo Marigold on KROQ 106.7!’
“Shut up…” you mumble, barely loud enough to count as words. You reach over and turn the dial down without looking, keeping your other wrist loose on the wheel. The joint between your fingers has burned to almost nothing, sending a thin thread of smoke toward the cracked window.
You kick it into third as the road bends, and the sign for Golden Oaks Mountain Resort drifts into your peripheral. Hand painted and slightly sun faded, Est 1942. Same as it ever was.
Jojo Marigold was right about one thing, it is hot. Even as the day is creeping towards five o’clock, the sun still burns through your windshield as if it is ready to fry you right there on the dashboard. The Trans Am’s AC had given up somewhere around the Pennsylvania border, which meant the last three hours had been you, the open windows, and a Springsteen tape that kept threatening to eat itself.
By the time you’d crossed into the Catskills proper your shirt was half unbuttoned, your hair was doing whatever it wanted, and the tension you'd been carrying on your shoulders since February had slipped out the window somewhere along Route 17. You take one last, long, slow drag and pitch the roach out the window as you push your new wayfarers up higher on your nose.
‘What time is it, baby?! It’s quittin’ time, 5:00. And I don’t know about you, but here at KROQ, we’re ready to parrrrty! Here’s our first request, ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ buy the ever-lovely Ms. Cyndi Lauper… so enjoy this one to get the weekend rolling!’
“No no NO! Not that shit–” you slap the dial all the way down until you hear static, then silence. Good.
The staff parking lot opens up ahead, a wide patch of gravel hemmed in by a row of old pines. You check your mirrors, and back the Trans Am in clean between the lines on the first try. She's only been yours since March– a ‘79, Red on Black, with a Firebird hood decal that the previous owner almost removed. Thank God he didn't. Eleven hundred dollars and a handshake from a mechanic in Flint who'd needed rent money more than he'd needed a car. Best deal you'd made in years. Maybe ever.
You kill the engine and the quiet rushes in. The cicadas, a lawnmower somewhere far off, the faint sound of someone's radio drifting down from the cabins above.
“Damn, Jake.” You hear her before you fully register the voice. “A Trans Am? When did that happen?”
You already know it’s Joy. You’d know that bubblegum pop anywhere. She’s leaned against one of the old picnic tables near the Welcome Center, arms folded across her chest, her tan already deep and holding, and her smile thin and sly— she knows exactly what she's doing. And though your current appearance is a bit worse for wear, she has decided to do it anyway.
“Happened when you started minding your business, Joy,” you say, swinging the door open as you step out in one easy motion, letting it close behind you with a solid slam.
“Ok, jerk,” she works her gum around her finger. “You get your balls in a bunch all winter or what?”
“Every winter.” You reach back through the window for your folder of paperwork. “You should know that by now.”
“You’re the worst,” she informs you.
“You say that every year, sweetheart.”
“And every year I mean it a little more,” she huffs.
You tuck the folder under your arm and cross the gravel lot towards her, your Sperrys crunching with each step. You pull your sunglasses up to sit on top of your head, and you lean in close. Close enough to smell her perfume, something sweet and summery. You look at her, making sure she's paying attention. “But as far as your question is concerned, you wanna take a feel and settle the matter?”
Her cheeks turn a deep pink and she turns on her heel. “Get a fuckin’ life Jacob. Or I'll throw your paperwork in the garbage before you can even sign it.” She's already moving towards the Welcome Center door, but the way she's walking tells you everything. “...Be like you were never even here. Never even showed up.” She’s mumbling with one hand flipping through the air. You’ve pissed her off just enough.
“Ah, come on, Joybird–” You follow her inside, grinning at the back of her head. “Don’t give me a hard time, now. I barely just got here.”
The lobby swallows the heat the moment you step through the door. It’s never had air conditioning, and probably never will. But the ceiling fans turn slowly in every corner, and the thick plaster walls hold in the cool air from the night before, so entry always feels like a reprieve.
Nothing here has changed, nothing ever does. That is, in fact, the whole point of Golden Oaks. It exists in a deliberate stillness, slightly outside of time. The carpet is the same deep green it was the first summer you walked through those heavy white doors. Nineteen years old, with nothing but a lifeguard certification and just enough sense to keep your mouth mostly shut.
The walls are still clean, the furniture still stiff, and vased pink zinnias sit on every available surface– the desk, the tables, the window sills. The walls are lined with photographs of golf pros mid-swing, tennis players at the net, framed commendations and ribbons dating back to 1950.
Best Mountain Resort. Best Mountain Resort. Best Mountain Resort. You’ve memorized every plaque.
Joy steps behind the front desk and you settle against the counter, watching as she works through a towering stack of manila folders. You wait a beat or two, and make a show of checking your wrist, which is bare.
“Alright, alright,” she mutters, not looking up.
“Any way you can move it along, Joybird? I’ve got beer to drink… new staff to impress.” You tap the face of your nonexistent watch. “Y’know how it is.”
“Cool your jets, Kiszka. I’m lookin’.”
“Not like I haven’t worked the same job here for almost a decade. You’d think there’d be a Jake pile by now.”
“I said cool it!” she barks. “You’re the last one of your brothers to get here, ya know,” she goes on, unbothered, finally pulling your employment file.
“Oh?” You take the pen from her desk cup without asking. You never ask. “Doesn’t surprise me.” You quickly flip through and sign all the necessary paperwork, making sure to not even read a single word of your yearly contract.
“Ya,” she pops her tongue. “Wasn’t sure you were comin’ back this year.”
You take a long sigh as you push the completed paperwork to her, meeting her deep brown eyes for the first time since last season.
“I always come back here, Joybird. You know that,” you mutter, licking your lips as your eyes unapologetically scan from her face down to her chest.
She grins, her fingers slowly gripping at the stack of papers. “Good,” is all she manages.
You clear your throat, shaking away the dirty thoughts that have already made their way into your mind. She makes it easy, though, the way her chest is already slowly heaving. “You going to the Haven tonight? Heard Doyle got a few kegs, couple bottles of something expensive. Gonna be good first night…”
“Uhm, I’ll be there a little later,” she mutters as she settles back onto her stool. “Don’t get off till ten.”
“Ten, things should be uh… heating up by then.” You press your palm flat to the counter, not a goodbye, more of a to be continued. She fully notices your deliberate and direct eye contact, and with another breath, you head for the door.
“Hope they are,” she says behind you, and you feel it follow you out.
“Wait, Jake! I forgot,” you hear Joy spout just as your hand reaches the knob. “You’re gonna have a couple newbies this season, they’re first years.”
Fuck. You turn back around, a look of disgust painted all over your face. Way to ruin the good vibe you had going. “Teenagers?! You’re shitting me… Where is everyone else? Where are my guys?”
“They’ll be here, don’t get so twisted up. You’re just gonna have to train a few new kids, that’s all.”
Your fingers tap the doorknob. “Am I getting a raise for that shit? I already trained these guys, I don’t need any more green help.”
Joy’s face flattens. “Yes you do, Jake. You know you need more help. Especially after what happened last ye–”
“Don’t, Joy.” You scoff, turning the knob once again. “I’ll see you later.”
The breeze cuts through the heat of the day, but not much. You climb back into your car and start the engine, ready to race to the top of the mountain to your cabin. Out of habit you crank the radio again, letting the music carry you up the dusty, winding road.
“I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun…”
You sing it without deciding to, half under your breath, the way you only do when you're alone and moving. And there it is, that feeling. The one that comes every summer on this exact stretch of road. Three months. Three months at the best resort in the Catskills. Three months of easy work, late nights, and the very specific pleasure of being known by the right people in a small world. The money is almost beside the point and has been for years. This has never felt like a job. It has never felt like anything except the particular and lucky thing that it is.
But there is the other thing, too. The new thing that has been sitting in your chest since you locked the door to your apartment. Whatever is coming, whatever quiet thing the universe has apparently decided is overdue, you've found yourself wanting it.
You're on the downhill slide of your twenties. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe this is just what it feels like to understand that a life you've loved, exactly as it was, cannot stay that way forever. That something is always in the process of beginning, whether you're ready for it or not. Or maybe it's going to be a good summer and you're overthinking it. You've always been good at that, too.
The gravel of the cabin lot comes up fast, dust and rocks pinging against the undercarriage as you pull in and cut the engine. The quiet is back, but then from up the hill, you hear the sounds. Music through open cabin windows, the voices carrying in the cooling air. The warm yellow glow of cabin lights turning on one by one as the mountain begins to darken. Summer frogs begin to chirp in the woods as they welcome dusk.
Suddenly, in the thrill of it all, your stomach turns over with something good. It feels like a peek of golden light on your horizon, a familiar hand on your shoulder. Old friends, old stories, old flames, maybe? The mountain has always been generous that way…
But there’s something else, too. Something that feels like it might be worth finding out about. It’s unnerving and unsettling, but you like it. Almost like that first sip of whiskey from a bottle that’s been sitting in the cabinet collecting dust. Sour and strong but so, so delicious once you let it sink in.
“Yes you do, Jake, especially after what happened last year…”
Without warning, the memory of Joy’s words creep back into your mind. Last year, last August… the fifteenth, to be exact. At six twenty-six in the evening. The single worst day of your entire life, thus far.
Good outcome, horrific circumstance. That day haunts you at nearly every corner you turn.
But you repress it. You have to. You’ve learned that reliving the negatives of the past does nothing but taint the present and spoil the future… bleeding every good experience you’ll ever have dry. You’re smart, you’re resourceful, and you’re one hell of a lifeguard. You’ll not ever forget that.
You sit for a moment with your hands still on the wheel, letting yourself feel all of it. The familiar old pull of this place, and underneath it, the sense of a door being held open, adding in the sense of something about to begin. You truly can’t tell if you want to slam the door or run full-force through it. Either way, you’re ready to savor every bit of it.
In the distance, you hear a familiar voice yell your name in question. It breaks you from your trance, bringing everything back to the here and now. You get out of your car and toss your army green duffle bag over your shoulder, listening as your name is excitedly called again. Somewhere up on this wild old mountain, without even knowing it yet, your summer is already waiting for you. With bated breath and open arms, you’re more than ready to dive in, head first.
Warnings: 18+ Smut (Minors DNI) Praise Kink, Edging, mentions of Choking (very mild) Dom Sam, Oral (F & M receiving) Fingering, Penetrative sex, Cockwarming, Degradation in the form of condescension, Spanking (if you squint) , and finally some fluff.
Word Count: 6.3k
Author's Note: Just a little treat for you hehe 🤭 Enjoy!
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Succulent (adjective)
(of food) tender, juicy, and tasty
Birdie POV
“I’m so excited.” I’m giddy with anticipation in the front seat of Sam’s new truck, a Toyota Tundra he named ‘Mr. Big’ after the character in Zootopia. He tried to stick it out as long as he could with Edith, poor guy, but she gave up all on her own. Though I have to say, I much preferred Edith over Mr. Big. I think I just get nostalgic for all the adventures we took with her.
The three hour journey has been a lengthy one, but with the long winding road coming into view, I know we're close. I’ve never been to Stowe, Vermont before but I know it's a popular vacation spot. Vermont lends a same outdoorsy feel as home while not being too far away, the perfect getaway spot. Sam reaches a hand across the console and takes mine in his, my heart squeezing along with the pressure of his fingers. I can’t help but stare at him. We’ve made it so far over the last, almost two years. Learning so much from each other, testing each other, pushing each other. God, we’re so ingrained in the very make-up of each other at this point I forget we haven’t even celebrated our second anniversary yet.
“I think this is it.”
We pull into a long driveway and up to a gorgeous natural wood cabin with a two-car garage. There are windows on either side of the chimney who’s brick is exposed to the outside, oh there’s a fireplace, and a porch that runs the length of the house. Fresh snow adorns the large yard, and I just know that the view from the inside is going to be so beautiful in the morning.
“Oh, Sammy. This is incredible!” I exclaim. I scoot to the edge of my seat, trying to get a better view.
“Wait til you see the inside, there’s 3 bedrooms and a sauna,” shooting me a wink before putting the truck in park.
“A sauna, huh?” I lean an elbow on the center console and pull him in for a slow kiss by the front of his jacket. “I’m definitely getting some use out of that.” I press another quick kiss to his lips before I unbuckle my seatbelt. Sam slides out of the truck and grabs our bags from the back seat, tossing both backpacks, one on top of each other, over his shoulder. I exit the truck and meet him around the front; he pulls me close to his chest, both of us trying to preserve a bit of warmth now that the biting winter air has surrounded us.
“It’s ours for the whole week,” he whispers into my hair, pressing his lips to my temple. “Just the two of us.”
“Let’s go, let’s go!” I head toward the entryway pulling him by the arm.
Once the door is closed, we take a left through the tiny hallway, the same natural wood as the outside covering the walls. Sam sets down our bags, sticking his head in each door, trying to get a feel for the place.
“These are the spares and the main floor bathroom. The Master bed is upstairs and has a loft area I think.” He takes my hand again, his hand warm around my chilly one. I’m forever thankful that he’s a very hot-blooded individual. “Yeah, it’s through here.”
We walk past a set of stairs on the left and the kitchen on the right. I can feel the enthusiasm radiating off of him like a solar flare as he tries to scope out each corner before I get a chance to catch up to him.
“Look at the view, Birdie!” he beams, eyes bright and arms wide open. “There’s a breakfast bar for our mornings and the fireplace to keep us toasty, though I’m not sure we’ll need help in that department.” He points around the living room. I keep a comment about the terrifying bear skin located above said fireplace to myself.
“I definitely don’t, I have you to keep me warm.” I meet him in the middle of the floor and slide my arms around his middle, locking my hands behind his back. He rubs at my shoulders. “That’s right,” he says, placing an innocent kiss to my nose. “But we’re still going to use it.” We pull apart from each other so he can continue the tour despite both of us never having been here before.
“I would never rob you of such a joy then. Proceed, kind sir.” I tease in a slight British accent, making a small bow. When we reach the top of the stairs we come to the small loft area, complete with a lovely day bed by a window that the sun peaks through. We step forward through the set of doors, passing the bathroom, and into the Master bedroom.
“This.. is the master bedroom. But the best part,” he doubles back to the bathroom, opening the door wide and stepping inside to make room for me to follow.
“The sauna is in our bathroom.” My eyes light up. He hums out an encouragement, tugging me back into his body by my wrist. I hit him with a light thud.
“I can’t wait to fuck you in there.” He growls lowly into my ear. My breath hitches in my throat, and immediately, my cheeks start to flush. His words hit me entirely to my core, and I resist the urge to press my legs together for relief. I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of knowing he's gotten to me this early in the trip, not when we have a whole week ahead of us.
“So what’s on the itinerary for tonight then?” I inquire, head tilted up so I can stare into his chestnut eyes.
“I’m so glad you asked my little bird.” He takes my hand in his, once again leading me toward the living room. “Once I grab the cooler from Mr. Big, I’ll pour you a glass of wine, and you can get relaxed, while I cook dinner. We can set up by the fire and eat on the floor like all romantic movies do in log cabins in the woods.” He brushes the hair out of his face and chuckles a bit. “I even packed that nice fuzzy blanket you love so much. It’ll be like our own romantic indoor picnic,” he continues.
“Wow, Sammy. You thought of everything, didn't you.” A swell of pride thrums through my chest.
Something I’ve learned over my time with Sam is that he always means well, even if his execution isn’t the best. And trust me, there have been some poor executions. Each mishap more endearing than the last, but this time, it really seems like he’s gotten the hang of the romance thing.
“Gunna be honest with you. I asked every single one of my brothers for advice and did a lot of studying.” he huffs out a slightly uncomfortable laugh and scratches at the back of his neck.
“Studying? What does studying mean?” I giggle.
“Well, your job has sent you on a couple trips this last month. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Daniel has his hands full with the girls, Josh and Jake are always busy. Bar stuff or whatever.” He shifts awkwardly between his feet. “I just.. watched a lot of romcoms and romance movies. Ya know, the kind you always like to watch.” he does a little double snap clap with his hands.
I bark out a loud laugh and clutch my tummy. Oh, I love him.
“Hey!” he says a bit defensively.
“I’m not laughing AT you, Babe. I promise. That’s just the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me. C’mere,” I hold my arms out for him to fit between. “Thank you. This week is going to be perfect no matter what. But the effort you’re making means the most to me, you know that.” I hug him tightly, hoping to convey just how appreciative I am.
No one has ever loved me the way he has. His love is messy and goofy. His love is filled with laughter and childlike wonder. Adventure and weekend trips. Nights snuggled on the couch and days when we don’t leave bed. Kisses peppered on cheeks and hips gripped mean. Arguments that end wrapped around each other because despite falling madly in love, we still try to get under each other's skin for fun. He has my entire heart, and I can’t bear the thought of my life being any other way.
“Now go get that cooler,” I slap his butt lightly. “I’m ready for some wine.”
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As I sip my wine and warm my toes by the fire, I look over my shoulder at Sam who’s slaving away in the kitchen.
“Do I get a hint?” I call over to him. He looks so cute, a dish rag slung over his shoulder, face knit in concentration. The cream cable-knit sweater he dons was a personal request of mine. He agreed on the pretense that I would wear the red sweater he loves so much. At least we’re on theme for the holiday.
“No,” he says plainly, clearly focused.
“Oh, that’s no fun.” I turn and kneel backward on the couch, giving him my best pout, trying to distract him. His eyes dart to me before falling back to his work, he smiles wide.
“You’re cheating. You know I can’t resist that face.” He steals another glance at me.
“I’m doing no such thing.” I protest. “I am simply inquiring about what my boyfriend is making me to eat.” I hop off the couch, setting my glass on the coffee table. I meet him in the kitchen, sneaking my arms around his waist and firmly planting my cheek against his back. He moves a little slower with me clinging to him but he doesn’t shoo me away, just lightly pats my wrist with one of his hands and continues to work. I take in a deep breath, inhaling the aromas from the meal.
“It smells good, babe.” I hop onto the free bit of counter beside him. He puts the lid back on the pan and turns his attention to me.
“It needs to simmer for a few minutes.” He winks at me, delicately fitting between my legs, his hands sliding up the fabric of my leggings before settling on my hips. I giggle, and he scoots me to the edge, bringing me closer to his body. I place my hands on the nape of his neck, sliding my fingers through the hair he’s messily tucked into a bun. I tug gently, and his mouth opens, and eyes close. Why does he have to be so pretty? It's moments when he looks like this that I wish I could take photos with my mind. What I wouldn’t give to take that photo out on a rainy day…
I lean in and close the gap between us, our lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Not urgent or needy. The kind of kiss where you simply tell each other how full your heart is.
He hums against my mouth. “Mm, if you distract me, I’ll burn the food.”
I pepper kisses along his cheek and jaw, and he reaches over to tend to the pan. “Can you please gimme a hint?”
“And ruin the surprise?” His arm moves, stirring whatever he’s making with a wooden spoon. As easy as it would be for me to just look over, I'm too distracted by nibbling at his ear to bother trying to sneak a peek.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper seductively in his ear. I plant a kiss on any expanse of skin I reach, repeating the word please over and over again until… He gives in. I feel his throat swallow beneath my touch.
“Remember the first time we went out together?” He gently clears his throat.
“On our first date? Yeah, you took–”
“No, the first time we ate together at a restaurant. Where we went.” he cuts me off. I can see the amusement settle on his face as he sees me try to look through the filing cabinet in my brain.
Oh.
“You took me to the cheese place.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Yeah, the cheese place.” He laughs. “You ordered the mushroom risotto, and you loved it. I figured since we haven’t actually been back..” he trails off.
I leave him to finish cooking, suddenly very excited for our meal now that I know what we’re having. Instead, I rearrange the living room to make a spot for us to eat. I move the coffee table off to the side, freeing up the space in front of the fireplace. Digging through the other bag Sam packed for us, and finding my favorite cream colored fuzzy throw blanket. Big enough for all nearly six feet of him and myself to fit under when we cuddle on the couch. I grab the coasters for our drinks, setting them on the hearth, and plop a couple pillows for us to sit on. Mostly for me because I apparently have a ‘bony ass,’ according to him. By the time that I’ve got everything settled Sam is walking through the living room with two bowls, one in each hand. He sets them on the hearth, grabbing my glass and running off to the kitchen for a refill.
“Here you go, Birdie,” he says, handing me my glass and sitting down in front of me.
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“God, that was so good.” I rub at my tummy. He smiles at me over the top of his glass as he sips his wine. “This has been a really good start to our mini vacation.” A much needed vacation if I’m being honest. I feel like I’ve hardly spent any time with him this month. He reaches out, placing his palm on my cheek. Stroking his thumb along my cheekbone.
“I’m glad you’re happy, baby.” He says sweetly. And I am. So fucking happy I didn’t think it was possible. I adjust on my pillow, kicking my legs out in front of me and rubbing my feet against his legs. His hand finds my ankle rubbing smooth circles on the tiny patch of skin he finds.
“I hope you saved room for dessert.” He says, his fingers delicately sliding up my leg.
“There’s dessert? Why didn’t you tell me that before.” I set my glass down on the hearth and scoot closer to him. His fingertips slide up the inside of my thigh.
“Of course, there’s dessert. You think I’d make you a lovely dinner and not have dessert too?” He teases, his fingers dangerously close to my core. I smile in satisfaction, his hands feeling too good as they dance over me. He pulls me in for a short kiss. “I really think you’re gonna love what I have planned.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhmm.” His fingers find the hem of my sweater, and he pulls it over my head. Revealing the dusty pink floral lace bra I’m wearing. He stares at me for a moment. Taking me in.
“Lie back, babygirl,” he instructs, using a nickname he’s reserved only for intimacy. I do as I’m told, as all good girls do, and connect with the plush blanket laid beneath us. I can still feel the warmth of the fire heating my left side, though after time spent for dinner, it has dimmed a bit. Like our own personal, romantic light setting. I stretch my arms out above my head and close my eyes, waiting. He grabs the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down my legs and tossing it to the side.
“God, you look good enough to eat.” He spreads my legs and sits on his knees between mine. “But you know that, don’t you?” I can feel his eyes of admiration on me. Like an invisible touch skimming down my body over every curve and divot. I anticipate his touch, resisting the urge to open my eyes. I try to guess where his hands will land when he does finally decide to reach out and touch me. Sam loves the game, though, the cat and mouse before the main act. And the cocky tone of his voice gets me going every time.
“Words, Baby.” He demands. The rush of pressure I feel between my legs at that moment is my favorite part of being with Sam. My heart pounds in my ribcage.
“Yes.” I squeak out. “I wanted to look good for you.” Every second he delays touching me my breath quickens. The sound of his pants against the blanket causes my stomach to flip. The cool air coming with whatever movement he’s making sends a chill down my spine, and goosebumps to appear on my skin. I hear the soft thud of what I hope is his sweater. Please be shirtless, please be shirtless. Even after all this time, the sight of him still makes me salivate.
A delicate hand caresses my thigh, and I twitch slightly at the unexpected touch.
“You did such a good job for me.” His sweet praise is music to my ears as his fingers glide toward my hip. “Look at you, so beautiful and laid out for me. Ready for me to take when I want.” He squeezes gently when he reaches his destination, and the cocky laugh that follows sends a flood of arousal to my core.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to me tonight?” I smile ear to ear and nod emphatically.
“Good.” He continues. He catches the hem of my panties with his pointer finger and follows along the edge of the blush-pink colored lace. When he reaches where I most desire him, he puts pressure along my pussy with the back of his finger and then snaps the fabric. The sharp sting is welcomed, but the absence of his touch makes me whine audibly.
He places each hand on the floor next to my shoulders, hovering over me. As he runs his nose up the length of my neck, he opens his mouth to breathe hot air in its wake. “So needy already?” He asks when he reaches my ear. “But I’ve barely touched you.”
“Please,” I beg. Knowing it’s what he wants to hear, but not holding out hope for my favor.
“Please, what, baby?” The husky tone of his voice sends a chill down my spine. He reaches his tongue out and flicks at my earlobe.
“Fuck me. Please.” My face scrunches in another desperate whine.
He tuts quietly, “I’m only getting started, baby.”
I know as soon as the words leave his lips that I’m in for a long night. A slow form of torture that I’ll be thankful for come the morning.
He pushes himself up and sits back on his heels. He taps my hip, signaling me to raise them, and he hooks his fingers under the lace of my underwear, sliding it down the length of my legs, discarding the material next to his shirt. Placing both hands on each respective knee, he spreads me wide, and his mouth drops open at the sight of me. My eyes fall to his plush, rosy lips.
“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue along his top lip. “Good enough to eat, indeed.”
Sam settles on his stomach, his left arm hooking around my leg. I hum at the heated contact of his palm, splayed across my lower abdomen. I can feel the cool air hit my dripping pussy as he takes slow breaths, plotting my demise. He lets out another arrogant laugh, no doubt satisfied at how I glisten by the firelight.
He rests his head against my thigh, now purposeful with the air he blows on me. I shudder a little, letting out a tiny gasp of air. The throbbing between my legs is so intense I can practically feel it in my throat. I swallow thickly. His free hand dances up the inside of the thigh he’s not resting against, his mouth open with a slight smile. Oh the fun he’s having, like I’m his own personal plaything. I would do anything to make him happy if it meant I experience this continued arousal. He tickles back and forth over the crease of my groin. So close and yet just far enough away from where I want him. No, where I need him. I bite my lip to try and center myself.
He finally makes contact with me, dragging his middle finger tantalizingly slow down the center of my pussy. My teeth sink into my lip so hard I nearly draw blood when the pressure reaches my clit; he continues until he meets where my wetness is pooling for him. He takes a moment to thoroughly coat the tip of his finger before he pops it into his mouth, savoring the taste of me.
“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. And you taste so fucking good. How did that happen?” He teases, but I don’t laugh. He reaches down, slowly inserting his first two fingers, but he doesn’t move them.
His teasing is so torturous I cry out. The thrum of my heart beats around his fingers, and I clench, trying to coax him into movement. I should know better.
“I know, baby girl, I know. You’re going to listen to me, though, and you’ll get what you want.” He places a gentle kiss on my thigh, “I’ll give you everything you want.”
I shake my head, feeling around for the blanket to bunch in my palms, giving my hands something to do.
“I’ve been thinking about dessert since we left, and I already know how sweet it is.” Sam continues his kisses, descending to my pussy. “I’m hungry, I think it’s time for a treat. I want you to relax for me, babygirl.” Everything his mouth is doing effectively distracts me from the fingers remaining stilled inside me.
He places a gentle kiss to the top of my slit and begins his assault. Finally, he licks up the center of me, flicking my clit with just the tip of his tongue. I moan at the contact, all that build-up finally paying off. I squeeze around his fingers, attempting to speed up the race to the finish line..
And he stops.
I whine at the loss of contact.
There’s always a game.
I look down at his wicked grin. “I told you to relax, babygirl.” His playful tone is as arrogant as ever. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His brow furrows with his question, and his lips shine with the evidence of me.
I nod slowly.
“Good girls listen.” One eyebrow cocks toward his hairline. “Let’s try again.”
Sam’s mouth is on me again, and I try to concentrate on breathing instead of the steady attack of his tongue against my clit. In fast, short licks, he slowly drives me to insanity. The heat of pleasure radiates over my body, a hot pulse running through me in waves. I will myself to calm down every time I start to tighten my walls, attempting to breathe and focus on something else, anything else. But the force of his tongue lapping at me is overriding my brain, and I can’t help myself. I clench hard in search of release, pulling the blanket clutched in my hands toward my chest for leverage in my chase.
He stops once more.
I groan out angrily and lay myself flat, resuming my original position.
“So needy and so pathetic. You can’t even handle it, can you?”
When I don’t respond, he strokes his fingers inside me a few times, suddenly remembering their place inside me. I jolt up to my elbows, tightening my fists around the blanket I still clutch. The shock of a moment of pleasure settling in my stomach before dissipating.
“You know I love to hear your pretty little voice, baby. Come on, use your words for me.”
I swallow before I beg for any amount of relief. “Please, Sammy. Please.”
He slides his left hand up my stomach, a gentle push signaling me to lie back.
“When you learn to relax, you’ll be rewarded. The only thing standing in the way of that right now is you.”
This time, the forefinger and thumb come down and spread my lips open, exposing me to him fully.
“Come on, baby, I know you can do it.” He coaxes gently. He’s careful not to make contact with any other part of me, so the only thing I can feel is the tip of his tongue on my increasingly sensitive nub. Little beads of sweat start to collect around the nape of my neck from the struggle of self-control. The pleasure is so intense I fear I won’t be able to think straight for a week when I finally reach my release. My pussy starts to flutter gently around his fingers again; every time I twitch, I relax the muscles as best I can.
“That’s it, baby.” He comes up for air long enough to utter his praise, and he’s descending again. Somehow the momentary break increases the tension slowly building in me.
I tighten once more at his words and relax just as fast. I bite out quickly, “Don’t stop Sammy, please. I can do it.. I can do it.” my voice trails off. I work evening breath enough to let my orgasm ascend on its own without the encouragement of actions.
He pulls back the hood of my clit with his thumb, and that’s the moment I begin to unravel completely. I yell out as I fight against my body's own natural instincts and the pleasure of it all; he continues the onslaught against my bundle of nerves, using the arm hooked around my leg to keep me in place. I writhe underneath his grasp as the tension finally snaps, my body going numb as my orgasm finally washes over every bit of me. My head clouds, and my body feels like it's floating. I immediately contract, my hands finding purchase in his hair, pulling tightly as the stimulation becomes too much. He moans against my pussy, causing me to jerk again. My voice echoes through the large living room. I reach my left hand out, meeting the brick of the hearth, trying to steady myself. He slows his movements, easing me out but still causing small ripples of pleasure with every affectionate lick and kiss of my pussy. I brush the tendrils sticking to my forehead out of my face and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Good girls who listen get rewarded.” He says smugly, licking at his lips covered in my orgasm. He looks so sexy, god. I lunge at him, tackling him to his back. Landing in a hard thud against the soft blanket, I kiss him, needy and desperate. A surge of energy running through me from the adrenaline, followed by a wave of arousal as I taste myself on his lips.
“You sound so sexy when you cum.” He says between my efforts to lap up every last remaining bit of myself still lingering on his mouth. “I’d put that on a loop for hours if I could.”
I cry out, “Oh god.” I start a path of kisses from his neck down his chest as he continues.
“Yeah? You like the idea of me listening to you cum over.. And over again? A little audio stored in my phone for me to listen to while I’m out?”
I nod furiously against his soft stomach, the tiniest bit salty from the sweat we’ve worked up. I run my hand down over the front of his black sweats, feeling his length beneath my fingers.
“While I’m buying groceries?” I nod again; his fingers tangle themselves in my hair.
“On my drive to work?” I nod once more, whining at his words. The sound of relief from his lips was enough to send my head spinning. He tugs at my roots just enough to hurt but still feel amazing. I work my way to the waistband of his joggers; I tug gently, exposing his hard length.
“No boxers?” I question teasingly. “Scandalous.” I laugh and press one last kiss to his stomach, taking a hold of him in my delicate hand.
“Mmm.” He tilts his head back as my fingers run over him. “Your turn for dessert, baby. Open.” He demands, and I obey. I open wide and stick my tongue out, waiting for him. He takes full advantage of that by pulling the hair clutched in his hand and guiding me to his cock. I wrap my lips around him; the sound of his pleasure is music to my ears. I move in quick, even motions up and down his shaft, my hand making up for the part of him I can’t swallow. Paying attention to every upstroke, I flick my tongue around the head. One of his hands makes its way to my cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.
“Just like that, fuck.” He moans, gripping my hair tighter and tighter, spurring me on. I bob my head faster as encouragement falls freely from his lips. My arousal pooling and dripping down my leg with every sound spilling from his mouth. God, the mouth on him.
“You’re doing so good for me.” His hips start to jut, matching the movements of my mouth. Hands locked in my hair, he pulls my face to his base, pausing for a moment.
“Fuck.” he cries out and releases his grip. I come up for air, a trail of spit still linking us together as I catch my breath. My lungs working overdrive to make up for the loss of oxygen.
“I could fuck that mouth forever.” He says, and I let out a desperate whine.
“So do it.”
I clamor my way back to his cock, desperately needing to taste him on my tongue again. I flatten my tongue and lick from base to tip and then wrap my lips around him. I lock eyes with him as I focus on the head, knowing how sensitive he is there.
Sam’s nostrils flare, and he grunts out. The switch flipping in him that I needed. He’s always in control, but every once in a while, his feral side comes out. The uninhibited Sam that fucks me hard and rough, and god, if I don’t fucking need him right now.
He sits up on his knees, kneeling before me. Yanking his sweatpants further down to his thighs, and grabs me, one hand planted on either side of my face, and bites out, “Open.”
His cock slides into my mouth, his full length against my tongue, and he repeatedly meets the back of my throat. He shows me no mercy. His hands and hips taking control and working overdrive so I just sit there and take it. I gladly take everything that he gives me. Over and over again, my lips meet his pubic bone as he fucks my mouth. I reach for leverage, grabbing a hold of where his pants sit around his thighs. The repetition of ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips, calling my attention back to his face. His eyes bore into mine, and he pulls me off his dick. He lets out a yell of frustration; I know he’s holding back. Trying not to cum down my throat because the only place he cums is inside of me. ‘You’re mine, Birdie,’ he always tells me.
“Hands.” He points to the hearth, and I hustle on my knees to place my palms on the warm stone. He unhooks my bra, somehow the only piece of my clothing left remaining. I bend over, sticking my ass out, waiting for his return. I peek over my shoulder, sneaking a glance at him as he shimmies out of his sweats. He kneels behind me and gently runs his hand over my ass, up my back, and settling on my shoulder. He pulls me to his chest.
“Ready, babygirl,” he asks as he slides his hand around my throat, gripping gently, and I nod in response. His other hand curves around my body, grasping my breast in his palm. He gives it a rough squeeze before pinching my nipple. I suck in a breath through my teeth.
“Good.” he lets out a little chuckle and soothes my bud between his fingers, gently rolling out the pain. His fingers glide delicately down my torso, and he cups my heat.
“I’m gunna fuck this pretty cunt so good.” My mouth falls open, my head leaning back. Just as my head meets his shoulder, relaxing into his touch, he pushes me forward back to my hands.
He notches his cock at my opening, both hands bracing me by the hips, and slowly enters me. I moan out at the pleasure of him slowly stretching me, and I silently thank god for the fact that we are isolated out here. I couldn’t be quiet even if I tried.
The push and pull of his cock with each slow thrust softly warming me. I tilt my head back in pleasure as he starts to work up a rhythm. He delivers a hard smack against my ass, and I grip the stone hearth tighter, feeling the roughness under my palms. His hand rubbing at my cheek, soothing the sting.
“You feel so fucking good.” Sam’s breathy tone giving him away. “So tight. You love the way my cock fills you up, don’t you?” I push back to meet his thrusts, hoping to get him there quicker, the desire to give him all the pleasure he gave me earlier, overcoming my need for anything else.
“Yeah, you do. Look at you? So desperate. I bet if stopped moving, you’d fuck yourself right on my cock, huh?”
His hand grips my hip tightly, and he pulls me back by my hair. His hand resuming his place around my neck, tightening his grip ever so slightly. Just enough to notice but not enough to restrict my oxygen. His other arm wraps around my middle steadying me for continued thrusts of his hips.
“You have no idea how badly I want that, babygirl. But I’m having too much fun listening to the sounds you make as I fuck you.” He lets out a wicked laugh.
My jaw goes slack, and I bend my body more, allowing him deeper access with every thrust. The new angle driving him into my G-spot, sending me reeling. The intensity builds in my stomach and I know Sam can feel it too. I reach a hand back tangling my hand in the hair gathered at his neck. He slides down, parting my lips and toying with my clit. Small tight circles coax me toward my end. Little by little, unraveling under his fingertips. I clench around his cock, and he knows I’m done for.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” The sickly sweet tone of his voice in my ear sends a chill down my spine. I fight against the building pleasure, trying to hold out. My voice carries through the room, mixing with his heavy breath and the sound of our hips snapping together. Everything starts to become too much, and my muscles weaken; my hand falls to join his arm wrapped around me. Sam holds me tighter, keeping me steady against his chest.
“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Do it.” I let go completely, falling over the edge and succumbing to the pleasure of Sam’s cock. I moan out a broken repetition of his name, and he fucks me through my orgasm. I feel so full when he’s inside me like I never want to be anywhere else. He slows his hips, allowing me a moment of reprieve. Our heavy breaths move in unison as we try to calm ourselves. He lays me gently back on my stomach, careful to stay tucked inside. My head resting against the pillow I was sitting on earlier, my skin soothed by the plush blanket. He joins me where I lay, resting half of his weight on me.
“Oh god. Sammy.” I cry out at the feeling of his cock inside my overstimulated cunt as he pulls out to the tip and slides back in again. My hand finds his thigh, nails digging into his skin, and he grunts out. He takes that as a sign to resume full force. His thrusts are hard and fast. Working himself up to meet his own end. His heady breaths against my ear could drive me to another orgasm if my body was capable.
“Oh fuck,” he growls. “I’m gonna cum.” his hips speed up, his pace unforgiving as his own release is in his sights. He holds his breath, and I brace myself, his hips snapping once more and pausing. Buried in me to the hilt, I feel his dick twitch with each spurt of release inside me. We let out a mutual ‘fuck’ as he releases. He teases himself slightly with gentle motions, slowly in and out of my pussy. His cum starts to leak out of me, landing on the blanket below.
When I feel him start to pull out of me fully I beg, “No, no, no. Please.”
“What baby?” He asks, confused.
“Stay. You feel too good.” I whine pathetically. He slides fully off my body to his side, sneaking his arm under my head and pulling me close, spooning me. His cock still tucked pleasantly inside of me.
“Is my little bird gonna warm my cock for me? Huh?”
I hum out an affirmation. “I really fucking needed that.”
“Yeah? You ready for that sauna yet?” He jests. “Little round two in there?” His hand makes its way to my breast, gently rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
I laugh and snuggle in closer to him. “Thinkin’ about it.”
Ah, Golden Oaks Resort- in a class all it’s own, the best of the best. A place where adventure and leisure meet. A getaway like no other. Nestled in the mountains of upstate New York, this vacation destination offers more than just award-winning golf courses and scenic vistas for miles… It boldly offers each one of its guests something different.
It’s not often that a singular location has the ability to bring people together and bond them for life, but when this group meets up here each and every summer, life feels almost perfect. Untamed escapades, secrets, and love in all the wrong places seem to be the norm here. Golden Oaks isn’t just a resort, it’s an escape. On one hand, it’s a place where people come to relax, kick back, and enjoy the fruits of their labor. On the other, it’s a place that works itself into your bones, letting itself become a home away from home that’s nearly impossible to leave forever.
They say, ‘Once you leave, you’ll do nothing but want to come back,’ and it’s true. Golden Oaks has its way of making itself an addiction. The people who frequent these grounds and work the amenities don’t have plans to make this annual trip a thing of the past. And if you aren’t careful, you, too, will get swept up in the wild and serene entity that is the Crown Jewel of the Catskills. Be aware, though, that even paradise comes with a price. You’ve just got to be willing to pay it.
Word Count: TBD
Warnings: SMUT 18+, angst, yearning, swearing, smoking, drinking, mild drug use. More warnings will be posted for each individual chapter.
A collaboration with @gretavanmoon
☀ ☀ ☀
Listen: Apple Music
Chapters:
Teaser
Prologue
Chapter 1
☀ ☀ ☀
Taglist: If you are interested in joining the Golden Oaks taglist, please click on this link.
A week at the lake was supposed to heal old wounds, but it only ripped them deeper. Y/N thought she’d left her feelings for Sam buried long ago, but jealousy, fear, and one impulsive confession threaten to unravel everything she’s tried to protect. As tensions rise beneath the summer sun, every truth they’ve avoided comes crashing to the surface… and someone’s heart won’t make it out unbroken.
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: 13.8k
Warnings: Angst: Cursing, Smoking, Drinking, Dramatic Themes, Arguing, Lying, Blood, Mention of Cheating, Mention of Manipulation and Mental Anguish. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Yearning.
A/N: Hello lovelies! I know it’s been a while since we’ve posted, and we are so sorry for disappearing like that. Again. Life got a little hectic for us both, but the good news is we’re back and completely reinvigorated after seeing Mirador in Nashville. Honestly, that trip sparked so much inspiration, and we can’t wait to finally share some of it with you. We’re kicking things off with the first part of this story, and we hope it pulls you in, makes you feel all the feelings, and reminds you why you stuck around in the first place. Thanks so much for your patience and support — it means the world to us! - N + J
A deep breath finds your lungs as the warm, evening summer air blows across your face, bringing the faint smell of slightly burnt coffee to your nose. Your hands are full with three iced lavender lattes, and the setting sun has cast a hot orange glow across the patio of Southern Grind.
Your two best friends, Skyler and Quinn have made themselves comfortable on a large, covered wooden swing, flip-fops kicked off as they scoot closer to one another and take their respective coffees from your overfull hands. You awkwardly take your seat beside them, pushing off the patio to get the swing going again.
“Okay, so we’ve gotten it narrowed down to three places… Pine Landing, which is the one with the giant deck, Lakeshore Cove, which is the one that has the game room, or… Lover’s Retreat?” Skyler asks as she scrolls through the cabin rental website on the laptop balanced on her legs.
“Definitely that last one, yeah?” Josh boasts on Quinn’s facetime call, vigorously waving his hands in front of the screen. You can almost feel your eyes roll into the back of your head as you sip down your coffee, kicking off your sandals to tuck your legs underneath you.
You hear Jake groan from over Josh’s shoulder, leaning down to look at the phone screen along with him. “No, not that one. Are you serious? Mark that one off the list…”
“Off?!” Josh swats him away, “Wait, I thought this was supposed to be a couples’ trip?”
“It is, Joshua, but we aren’t escaping the real world to go eat chocolate-covered strawberries while we lay on heart-shaped beds…” Quinn bites as Skyler continues to scroll.
“Oh,” Josh responds with a heartbroken tone. “I’m sorry, so you don’t want me to wake you up every morning with a back massage, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while your coffee brews and your hot bath draws in the other room?”
Jake snickers.
Quinn exhales, “Now I never said you couldn’t do all of that, babe.” A quick glance to Quinn shows you her slightly pinkened cheeks as she bites her lips with embarrassment. She and Josh hadn’t been together very long, but they had been an item long enough for everyone to be comfortable with making jokes that veered on the edge of inappropriateness. “Plus, Y/N is coming, and she’s coming alone. So you can’t really call it a couples’ trip. It’s just… a trip.”
“A vacation,” you interrupt in agreement, grabbing the phone in Quinn’s hand to turn the screen to your face. “Are you sure you guys are okay with me coming? I mean, it’s not too late for me to back out. I want you guys to relax and have your alon–”
“Yes,” the four of them all moan with annoyance after you’d tried backing out of this trip probably five times already.
“We want you there, babe,” Skyler chimes in. “Seriously, you deserve a getaway, too. And it wouldn’t be the same without you there, anyway.”
You exhale with a heavy huff, crossing your arms across your chest in defeat, yet again. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just that you really didn’t want to interrupt your friends and their long-awaited couples’ retreat. You didn’t want to impede on their privacy, and you surely didn’t want them feeling like they had to include you in every decision.
But frankly, the past year hadn’t been the easiest, and you could really use a vacation, too. You’d been through a lot of life changes, some good, and some bad. And some, really fucking terrible. It’d been a whirlwind of a year, so when your best friends planned a well-deserved vacation and saw your face fall when they told you they were leaving, neither of them thought twice about inviting you along with them.
Their significant others were just going to have to like it.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me fifth-wheeling?” you whine again, earning you another loud and heavy ‘YES!’ from the rest of the group.
“Pine Landing, bring that one up again. I liked it the best,” Jake goes on, moving his face closer to the phone on the other end. Skyler follows suit as Quinn turns the phone for Jake to see, showing the enormous yet quaint log cabin perched perfectly on the shore of Lake Henley. “Yeaaaahh….” Jake says as she flips through the photos of the property. “It’s perfect. Secluded and private… and it has a hot tub, right?”
“Yes it does, Jacob,” Skyler grits as she pinches her lips between her fingers. “But don’t get any big ideas…”
“Book it,” Josh interrupts with a firmness. “Babe, you still have my card info?”
“Yep,” Quinn says. “Seven days, right?”
“Seven days,” the brothers respond in unison.
“You guys aren’t going to get sick of each other and fight the whole time, are you?” you ask jokingly, your coffee already having worked its way down to the melting ice.
“Us? Never,” Josh says with a wide grin. “Seriously, Y/N, we’re excited that you’re coming along. It’ll be fun. And, we may even have a little… surprise once we get there.”
“A surprise?” you ask.
“Yep,” Jake goes on. “Maybe. Haven’t ironed it out yet, but. Fingers crossed. Regardless, we’re happy to have you tagging along, Y/N.”
You feel your head nodding in slow motion, finally feeling more comfortable with the notion of being the outcast all week long. But you’d mentally prepared, already piling up a stack of books to bring, along with a brand new empty sketchbook to break into as soon as you could find a free second. It would be good. It would be relaxing. And lord knows you need the downtime.
“Alright, it’s booked!” Skyler sighs with underlying excitement as she slams the laptop shut. “Josh, I sent you the confirmation email. Guess we’ll see you guys in just a few days?”
“Yep, we’ll be there waiting for you,” Jake responds with a softness, taking the phone from Josh’s grasp before walking away with it. Quinn notices, and hands the phone off.
“‘M really excited to see you, baby,” he goes on, running his hand through his hair. “It’s been way too long.”
“It has been too long…” Skyler agrees, tilting her head to admire her lover on the phone screen. “I don’t even remember what you look like.”
You take notice that this facetime call has suddenly gotten private, so you look away and mindlessly scroll your phone, making sure to keep one ear open.
“I haven’t changed much, just got a little peach fuzz situation going on,” Jake suddenly develops a sultry tone to his voice as you eavesdrop on their conversation.
“I see, I like it. It looks sexy on you,” Skyler giggles.
“You think?” Jake laughs. “Just wait till you feel it on your–”
“Okay! Gross! That’s enough! Give me my phone, Romeo,” Josh tumbles into their conversation, ripping the phone from Jake’s hand. “We’ll talk to you gals soon. Go get to packing, chop chop.” Josh snaps his fingers into the phone speaker as Skyler laughs him off.
“Alright, we’ll text you,” she says, handing the phone off to Quinn to say her own goodbyes.
As they talk, Skyler places her laptop down on the patio deck and brings her knees up to her chest, hugging them close while she lets out a deep breath.
You decide to press. “Things still really good with Jake?”
Her face lights up and she turns to you, still hugging her knees tightly. “Mhm,” she nods with a sweet smile. “We’re so happy, Y/N, it’s crazy. And we haven’t even seen each other in what, four months? And we can still handle the long distance like champs?”
“Well I’d hope so,” you add, “you’ve been together for what, two years?”
“Yeah, almost,” she agrees with a laugh, releasing her legs to fall back to slip into her sandals. “Just. Every day still feels like the first. Still get the butterflies, still feel all those mushy feelings…”
“...And?”
“And…” she blushes. “Still picture him as my end game. Ugh! I’m too young for that. I can’t be thinking that way. No…”
“Says whoooooo?” you caw, slipping your own shoes back on. “You’re happy, he’s happy. Just allow yourselves to embrace it. Little daydreaming never hurt anybody. Besides, I see how he softens when he looks at you. How he acts when you’re around. He’s like the best version of himself, and so are you.”
“Shut the hell up,” Skyler pushes your arm.
“I’m serious!” you continue. “I know these things. I’m like… cupid or something.”
She sighs and stands from the swing, stretching her arms high above her head. “Guess you’re right, you did get those two lovebirds together…” her eyebrows shoot to Quinn as she ends the phone call with Josh.
You smirk. “Indeed I did.”
Quinn shoots up and stuffs her phone in her back pocket, offering the both of you a look of intrigue. “Okay bitches, you heard the man. Let’s go get our suitcases.”
—
Your twenty-seventh year hadn’t treated you all that badly, but you wouldn’t call it your prime year or year of best choices ever made. You’d gotten hired and fired twice from jobs you thought you’d keep for a lifetime. You’d lost your dad. You’d lost your childhood dog. You’d moved apartments three times, lost a few friends along the way. You’d had more one night stands than you’d like to admit, and, for some odd fucking reason, you’d managed to fall halfway in love.
Halfway. But him? He’d never know that.
You might not call it love, per se, but instead you’d say you’d fallen into a whirlwind of a relationship that was chock full of secrets and confidentialities. Half the time, you called yourself stupid for ever even putting yourself into situations with him. He was cocky, annoying, and even a little bit off-putting. He could be rude and inconsiderate, blunt and a little disrespectful. But you swear to god, even those misgivings couldn’t keep you from getting swept all the way up into him. Everything that he was. His tough exterior was only a facade for the most enticing man you had ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with.
Even when you weren’t thinking about him, you were thinking about him. It was toxic, and delicious and beautiful. The whole relationship, if you could even call it that, was hands down the most alluring and impulsive experience you’d ever had. He treated you better than any other man ever had, even when he was in the worst of moods. The sex had you melting like honey in his hands, and the fact that you had to keep it a secret made it all the more overwhelmingly exciting.
Things were going well, and the both of you were completely fine with the situation of not being official. Titles weren’t necessary, and the fact that you didn’t want to be open with your… relationship was proof enough to the both of you that moving forward just wasn’t in the cards.
The cards that sat completely shuffled on the table, ready to be played, if only he say the word.
You were older than him, you knew that. Though it wasn’t by much, it was enough. Your maturity balanced out his lack thereof, and though you knew your body had begun to show signs of being on a clock, you knew deep down that that clock was not going to be wound up by the likes of him.
So, you began to see each other less and less. You each started to see other people in the interim of the carousel that was your front door. You let alcohol feed your sadness, and you found homes on Quinn or Skyler’s couches more times than you could count. It wasn’t rock bottom, but it wasn’t your peak.
And then, one day, he was gone.
One day you realized that he hadn’t called in a month, and you hadn’t physically seen him in longer than that. It hurt like a cannonball to the chest, but at the same time, it was freeing. No longer did you have to call on him when you needed him, pretending that the false name for him in your phone was just someone you’d met at the record store. You didn’t have to lie anymore. And most importantly, you could allow yourself the space for someone real.
Twenty-eight had been better. Twenty-eight had been a good period of healing.
So far, so good, at least.
A solid job, a nice apartment. New friends and new hobbies. Art and travel and a better relationship with your mom. And, a new puppy, whom your mother had no arguments about babysitting while you relaxed in the middle of the forest with your best friends.
*
The pile of books riding on your lap (because let’s be honest, you didn’t trust tossing them into a bag to be stuffed in the trunk with the multitude of suitcases and coolers) weas tempting at best, and you fought opening one up on the four-hour drive out to Lake Henley. But the temptation was overshadowed by good, silly conversation with your friends, and way too much singing along to early 2000’s throwbacks.
You and Quinn had already dipped into one of the coolers, helping yourselves to a couple Mike’s Hard Lemonades for the ride in. The sun had just set and the moon was almost past the tips of the trees, and the sweet buzz running through your system only added to your feeling of peace that maybe this week was going to be exactly what you needed.
“Wow, look at that!” you hear Skyler exclaim from the driver’s seat, craning her neck down to point to the absolutely breathtaking cabin at the end of the dirt road you’d been traveling for the better part of half an hour. “Is that it?”
Quinn zoomed in on the map, the little blue dot underneath showing that you were finally approaching your destination. The cabin looked to be a bit older in design, but it didn’t take away from the perfection of the structure itself– tin lights lining the gables, a dark metal roof, beautiful landscaping lining the driveway and surrounding grassy area, and of course, a ginormous deck that sprawled all the way out overtop of the lake. You could see the twinkling of the white Christmas lights strung perfectly above it, and the long branches of the trees that doubled as a roof over the porch. And the best part, the sun setting perfectly on the water, only making room for the glistening of the moon to follow right behind it.
“Oh, it’s so cute. I can not wait to see inside!” you exclaim, your hand already balanced on the door handle to be ready to jump as soon as the car was parked.
As the car slowly approached the gravel cul de sac, you could faintly see movement coming through the front door of the place, surely Jake and Josh rushing out to greet you. You push the door open, ready to stand and stretch your legs and get inside to see the place as soon as you could.
“Hey, there they are! We were starting to get worried!” you hear Josh yell from the steps of the cabin, already a heavy slur in his voice. He has two bottles of wine in his hands, and he awkwardly steps barefoot over the gravel driveway.
Quinn slams the car door closed just as Josh is approaching, ready to take her backpack and head to the trunk for the rest. Jake, though, stays behind him just a bit, his face already hidden in the shadows of the set sun. You watch as he cowers a bit behind Josh’s car, his face already red and his chest already visibly heaving as he waits for Skyler to round the front of her car. As you make your way to the trunk, you offer Jake a tiny wave, which he repays with a sweet grin. It’s then that you give them the room, hearing gravel kick up and Skyler squeal as she jumps into Jake’s arms.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Josh says from beside you as he hands you the half-empty wine bottles and rips a suitcase from the trunk, landing it with a thud on the ground.
“Way cute,” you agree. “Hey Joshua.” He brings you in for a hug, already shirtless with his hair a little damp. You can feel the heat from the little bit of sunburn already radiating from his skin.
“Babe, have you guys already been swimming? You smell like sunscreen and sauvignon blanc,” Quinn giggles as she tosses the straps of multiple bags across her shoulders.
“Let me, let me,” he scorns, taking a bag or two from the both of you. “And yeah, we didn’t have anything to do for like five hours. There’s a fucking slide off the porch, we had to try it out, ya know. Just to be sure it was safe. ‘N we already made dinner, too!”
You and Quinn exchange looks of impression as you begin hauling things down the walkway, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jake and Skyler finally separate in a fluster.
“You gonna help, Jake, or you gonna make me be the man of the house?” Josh squeals through his loaded-down arms.
“Yeah, yeah, keep talking shit,” Jake groans as you lift a bottle of Josh’s wine to your lips, letting it sit in your mouth for just a second as everyone pulls ahead of you toward the cabin. It truly is a gorgeous place; they weren’t lying when they said it was a sight. The sun has set over the water, and the summer sounds of the crickets and frogs have begun to seep from the woodwork, really making for an overwhelmingly peaceful setting. Maybe this will be okay. Maybe this will be the perfect reset…
Your suitcase is crunching rocks as you pull it behind you, watching the shadowed and blurry figures of your best friends make their way up to the steps of the cabin. But it’s then that you see something else. A silhouette of another person, slagging with slow strides out the front door to lean down on the porch railing.
For a split second, your brow furrows, your mind caught off guard at the fact that there is someone else here, someone else you weren’t expecting.
Your heart drops.
Suddenly that dreadful feeling that you’d been harboring since the vacation plan was set in stone comes rushing back to the forefront. Your stomach churns, and your mouth goes dry.
“Hey, stranger. Nice of you to finally show up.”
Fuck.
“Sam,” you offer stoically after clearing your throat. Your hands are clammy as you approach the stairs, pushing the handle of your suitcase down to carry it up. Your legs feel heavy as you finally reach the top, not knowing whether or not you should greet him the same as you did his brothers, or maybe with a little more coldness. “Didn’t know you were coming.”
He smirks, standing up straight as he swirls the beer bottle in his hand. “Yeah, well, it was kind of last minute.”
Just then Jake bursts back out onto the porch, taking all the bags and bottles of wine from your arms. “I’ll keep that one, actually, thanks,” you say as he grips the neck of the bottle in your hand.
“Oh, all yours,” Jake says, inhaling through clenched teeth. “Remember that surprise I told you about? The one we didn’t have quite nailed down, yet? Well, here it is,” Jake holds out his free hand to present Sam like a damned sideshow at a carnival while Sam bites both his lips between his teeth, shoving his hand in the pocket of his still-damp swim shorts.
Neither of you speak.
Jake clears his throat, “You said you didn’t want to be a fifth wheel, so… we decided to see if ol’ Sammy boy wanted to tag along, ya know. So you didn’t feel like you were… I dunno. Anyways.” Jake shoves Sam’s shoulder before turning to go back into the house.
Sam stands still as a statue, his slit eyes glaring straight into the side of your head. Your feet feel like blocks of concrete as you will yourself to move, to leave… to either rush into the cabin to hide away, or back to the car to throw it in drive and go directly back home. But instead you’re glued, staring right back into the eyes of him.
Seconds go by. A minute, even. Both of you gritting your teeth as a million words go unsaid in the matter of moments. Finally you tilt the bottle back up, squinting one eye at him as you refuse to be the first one to speak.
“I’d offer to help carry your bags inside, but. I figure you don’t want anyone interfering, right?” he cuts, taking another swig of his beer.
You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Just the tenor of his voice sends a chill down your spine, the way that his sentences bounce off the corners of his mouth reminding you of every delicious yet poison-laced word he’s ever said to you.
“Interference. Involvement, help… someone coming in and fucking everything up for you, hm?” His lips curl around the rim of his beer bottle before you watch him swallow, slow and patient.
“I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, Sam, but it’s most definitely not the one you’re suddenly making me out to be. I know how your mind works,” you cut, stopping the shit that you know is about to hit the fan before he can even start with it.
He steps forward, but you stay stationary. “Do you, now? It’s been a long time… You sure you haven’t forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten a thing. And I’ve changed. A lot.” You cross your arms as you challenge him, your mind already working overtime to understand how in the fuck you’re going to survive this week with him.
“Hah,” he laughs with no comic in his voice, at all. “So’ve I. That’s for damn sure.”
“Good for you,” you shrug, feeling him step forward, yet again. In an act that feels like old habit, you see his hand rise from your peripheral… Slowly reaching up to pull a strand of hair that had fallen across your forehead in the mess of getting your luggage up the stairs. At first, you cower and cringe, the tension already so thick that the thought of him touching you makes you want to scream and retaliate. But you don’t. You stand firm, letting yourself enjoy– if only for a second– the feeling of his fingertips on your skin again.
He pulls the hair away, the brushing of his skin against yours making you go blind with echoes of the past.
“So difficult…” he murmurs, letting his fingers rest on your temple for just a second too long. You don’t dare look him in the eye. “And so fucking infuriating.”
You huff, pulling away from his touch. “I’m most definitely not the difficult one, Sam. I think we both know that.”
“Stop making accusations you can’t back up. That won’t be a good look for you if we plan on keeping the peace all week.” His eyebrows raise as his words hit you, and before you can retort, his shoulder is brushing past yours with force, and all you can see is his back as he makes his way through the front door of the cabin. Then, it slams closed, leaving you standing stranded and alone on the porch with nothing but your suitcase and half empty bottle of wine.
You should leave.
You should get the hell out of here, right now.
Fuck him. Not even a warm or civil hello after months of no contact. Just a slew of insults, a cold shoulder and a literal slam of the door in your face. You can’t be here.
You kill the remnants in the bottle as you mull it over, the loud sound of laughter already pouring out from the inside walls of the cabin. Your mind is seething, and your body feels like it is visibly vibrating as you let the rage run through you. You pace a little, tossing over the scenarios as quickly as you can.
If you leave, he wins. And you lose out on everything that you were looking forward to.
If you stay, the entire week will be one big feeling of uneasiness.
But you’ve come this far… and you can’t leave your best friends. And Sam can’t win.
So you stand up, placing the now empty bottle back on the banister as you open the door and awkwardly pull yourself through it. Awkwardly, but confidently.
“This place is amazingggg!” Skyler gushes as she rushes toward you to help carry your things, pulling your hand along through the kitchen and away from the already-loud mess that is the three brothers already digging into dinner.
Your vision is blurry as she pulls you down a long hallway lined with sconces and framed photos of wildlife. The cabin is massive, and it feels like you walk behind her forever. The scent of wood cleaner and oak hits you in the face as you finally round a corner into a room, finding Quinn already sitting on the bed.
“Leave your suitcase out there. We’ll go back for it later,” Skyler half-whispers as she shuts the door behind you. You do as she says, and take a seat next to Quinn on the bed.
“Oh my goddddd, somehow he’s even hotter than he was four months ago what the fuckkk…” Skyler gushes as she paces the carpeted room, her hands squishing harshly over her cheeks.
“You see him every day on facetime stupid,” Quinn says, “or have you been blind for the last few months?”
Skyler falls backward onto the bed behind you, huffing a loud breath of air as she crosses her hands over her stomach. “Yeah I guess but how in the hell does… he’s just been touring, I thought he would have been more tired-looking, but somehow he’s like. Glowing?”
You and Quinn laugh at her as she covers her face, the apparent shyness she’s feeling physically radiating from her.
“Well go back out there and hang out with him! You’re wasting your time with us in here when you could be oogling your own boyfriend,” Quinn cries as she jumps from the bed and begins to unpack her suitcase.
“Unngghh…” Skyler grunts in aggravation, and the room goes silent for a second.
“So yeah, thanks for telling me Sam was coming,” you blurt before you can even think twice. You had the wine to thank for that.
“Sorrryyy, Jake wanted to surprise you,” Quinn says, putting a few of her t-shirts into a drawer.
You swallow dryly. “Why, though? Why would he want to do that?”
Quinn turns back around, an aloof look on her face as she shrugs. “I dunno, said he and Josh didn’t want you to be like, lonely or whatever. Thought you could use a friend, a sixth wheel… I guess. A buffer. I thought it was kinda sweet of them to ask.”
Your eyes hit the floor as your stomach churns with sudden guilt that you never told them. “Yeah, sweet.”
“Why, is there an issue?” Quinn asks. “Oh my god, you hadn’t invited someone else, had you?”
“No no no,” you shake your head. “I just… I haven’t seen him in so long, I–”
Quinn cocks an eyebrow. “But you’ve been friends with him for longer than Sky and I have known you… Isn’t it just like old friends, old times kind of thing?”
Without trying, your eyes shoot daggers at Quinn, not for the fact that she’s so nonchalant with it, but for the fact that she truly has no. fucking. clue.
You take a deep breath, recentering. “Yeah, it will be. Just— don’t let him be an asshole to me. Sam and I used to… Fight. Like cats and dogs. We both have short fuses and whenever we’d be locked up together for any amount of time, it could sometimes get heated.”
Your words have double meaning, but they don’t know that.
“You’re kidding,” Quinn laughs. “But you’re grown now, maybe you’ve both matured past the point of getting into catfights. I think you’re thinking about it too hard.”
Too hard, yeah.
“Guys why am I nervous? Why does Jake make me feel all weird and anxious?” Skyler whines loudly, ignoring the conversation at hand. “I didn’t expect it to feel like I’m flirting with him for the first time again, I’m twenty-eight fucking years old…What am I gonna doooo…”
“Because you love him you idiot,” you say, ripping her hands from still covering her face. “Quinn is right– go back out there. Sit on his lap. Run your hands through his hair or whatever.”
“God, I won’t be able to hold myself back, guys. He’s like, fine, fine. And he’s mine? What the fuck…” you hold back a laugh watching Skyler gush over her own long-time significant other as if it’s the first time she’s ever seen him.
“We’ll all go. Come on,” Quinn interrupts, pulling you both from the bed and back out the door down the long hallway. Your nerves wrack through you again as you realize you’ve got to face Sam again, and you wonder how on earth you’re going to get through seven entire days of this.
You stern yourself as the three of you approach the kitchen, the low hum of conversation and the faint sound of clinking glasses pulling you forward. The guys are exactly where you left them—Jake leaning against the counter, a beer dangling from his hand; Josh scrolling through his phone; and Sam at the sink, sleeves pushed up, rinsing out a glass with a concentration that feels far too performative.
Jake looks up first. “There she is! You ladies hiding from us already?”
“Skyler was having a crisis,” Quinn answers before you can, bumping her shoulder into yours with a grin.
Skyler groans. “Don’t start.”
Josh chuckles. “What, is your hair too shiny?”
“Shut up,” Skyler mutters, but she’s already gravitating toward Jake, slipping her arms around his waist like she’s been waiting to all night. He grins, setting his beer down to wrap her up easily.
You look away. You can’t help it.
Sam’s still at the sink, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he dries the glass with a dish towel. You hate that you notice that. Hate even more that your body remembers the way those hands felt when they—
“Suit up?” Quinn repeats, shooting him a look. “You make it sound like we’re going into battle.”
“Depends who you’re sitting next to,” Josh mutters under his breath, earning a sharp elbow from Quinn as they start gathering their drinks.
You move toward the cabinet for another glass, keeping your eyes on anything that isn’t Sam. But of course, he chooses that moment to speak.
“Still drink cabernet?”
The words freeze you mid-reach. You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes. Brown, sharp, and unreadable.
“Yeah,” you say finally, voice tight. “Some habits die hard, I guess.”
His mouth twitches. “Guess so.”
You pour yourself a glass, pretending your hand isn’t shaking, and try to drown out the sound of your pulse as everyone disperses—Skyler and Jake heading outside towards the hot tub, Josh and Quinn arguing down the hall about who gets the aux cord.
Then, it’s just you and Sam.
You can feel his gaze on you, heavy and patient. You turn to face him. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking.”
He leans back against the counter, that same lazy confidence curling at the edges of his posture. “You used to like that about me.”
You let out a short, humorless laugh, forcing yourself to remember what he said to you on the porch. “Yeah, and I also used to like Pop-Tarts for dinner. Doesn’t mean I still do.”
That earns you a real smile, small and infuriating. “Still got the attitude, I see.”
You take a long sip of wine. “Still got the ego.”
For a second, it feels like old times—the teasing, the push and pull, that spark that used to flicker just before it burned you alive.
“Hot tub in ten!” Jake yells from outside, the sound of the back door slamming punctuating the air between you. “She’s sitting at 99!”
You exhale through your nose and step away, your shoulder brushing his as you pass. It’s enough to make your skin light up like static.
You don’t look back, but you hear him mutter, low and amused, “Long week, huh?”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts, but your mouth betrays you, curling just barely at the corner.
Josh’s voice echoes down the hallway as he lugs a stack of towels under one arm. “Alright, last stop on the tour—guest room for you two.”
You’re half a step behind him, doing your best impression of relaxed, even though your stomach is in full rebellion.
He pushes the door open with his hip, flicking on the light. “Ta-da. Twin beds, lake view. Cute, right?”
“Cute,” you echo, voice a shade too high.
And then you see it, Sam’s duffel bag already slouched against one of the bed frames, his jacket thrown over the chair, guitar case propped against the wall.
You stop in the doorway, throat closing.
Before you can process it, footsteps sound behind you. Heavy. Familiar.
Sam.
He comes to stand in the doorway beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his arm, though he doesn’t look at you. His jaw ticks once, and the muscle there jumps hard.
Josh claps his hands. “See? Plenty of space. I put Sam up here earlier. Figured it’d be easiest if you two shared.”
Sam’s expression flickers—something like disbelief, then irritation that he tries to bury under a polite half-smile. “Yeah. Sure. Perfect.”
You manage a nod that feels mechanical. “Right. Great.”
Josh looks between you, confused for a half-second, then grins, satisfied. “Knew you wouldn’t mind. You guys always travel well together. Remember that house in Traverse City? Same deal.”
You laugh weakly. “Yeah, good times.”
The words taste wrong in your mouth.
Josh doesn’t notice. “Anyway, drop your stuff and meet us out back. Hot tub’s steamy, baby!” He gives a little two-finger salute and heads back down the hall, humming to himself.
As soon as his footsteps fade, the silence slams into place.
You’re still standing just inside the door, clutching your bag straps like a lifeline. Sam’s still near the threshold, his hand braced on the doorframe, eyes fixed on the floor. The air between you feels thick, electric, the kind of quiet that hums with everything unspoken.
You finally find your voice. “I didn’t know you were—”
He cuts you off without looking up. “Yeah. Surprise.”
You blink, thrown by how sharp his tone is. “Josh said it was Jake’s idea.”
He gives a small, humorless laugh. “Of course it was.”
You set your suitcase down by the other bed, fingers fumbling with the zipper. “If this is weird, I can sleep on the couch—”
“No,” he says too quickly, too forcefully. Then, softer, “No. Don’t worry about it. I honestly thought there was gonna be another room for you, I didn’t think that–” He takes a heavy breath as his thumb and forefinger squeeze the bridge of his nose, letting his words end there.
You glance over. His hands are in his pockets now, shoulders tight, the faintest flush creeping up his neck. He still won’t meet your eyes.
“Sam—”
“Don’t,” he mutters, voice low. “Just—not now.”
The words hang there, and you can feel the memory of that night between you—the one you’ve both been avoiding, the one that burned everything down.
You swallow hard. “Okay.”
He nods once, finally looking up, his expression carefully blank. “Good.”
Another beat of silence. Then he gestures stiffly toward the room. “You can take that bed. I’ll stay out of your way.”
You nod. “Fine.”
He exhales, turns, and walks out—slow, controlled, but you can see the tension in every line of him.
When he’s gone, you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at his bag across from you. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too heavy.
You sit there for a long moment after Sam’s footsteps fade down the hall, staring at the closed door. The air still feels thick with him. It’s sharp and heavy, like the room’s been holding its breath too.
You finally kneel by your suitcase, flipping it open. You tell yourself you’re just getting settled, doing something normal, something productive. Anything to focus your hands on.
The zipper catches halfway, and you tug too hard, muttering a curse when it jerks free. Clothes spill out in a half-folded heap. You start sorting them automatically, putting your shirts into the dresser, with jeans stacked neatly on top. The dresser drawers stick a little when you pull them open, the old wood groaning.
And then you freeze.
Inside, folded with that same careless precision that’s so him, are Sam’s clothes. A few t-shirts, a worn flannel, and socks rolled into lopsided balls. You stare down at them, the scent faint but unmistakable: cedar, detergent, that cologne he always overused.
Your fingers hover over the edge of the drawer. You shouldn’t touch them. You really shouldn’t.
But you do.
You lift the flannel, thumb brushing across the soft fabric, and for a second you’re back in his passenger seat, rain drumming on the windshield, the air between you tense and sweet and dangerous. The night that changed everything. The night that ended it.
You shove the memory away and fold the flannel tighter, moving it to the far side of the drawer before adding your own clothes in.
By the time you open the closet, you think you’ve steadied yourself — until you see his jacket hanging inside. You swallow hard. There’s a part of you that wants to take it down, bury it somewhere you don’t have to see it. But you don’t. You just hang your hoodie beside it and tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything.
You keep unpacking. Toothbrush by the sink, charger by the nightstand, your bag tucked neatly under the bed. Everything in its place. Everything pretending to be normal.
When you finish, you stand back and look around the small room, taking notice of the twin beds, two sets of drawers, and the quiet hum of the ceiling fan overhead.
It should feel temporary, easy, and forgettable...
But instead, it feels like being trapped inside something unfinished.
A knock at the door jolts you.
Jake’s voice filters through. “Hot tub time, Y/N... You coming?”
You blink, pulling yourself back to the present. “Yeah! I’ll be right there.”
You grab your swimsuit from the drawer and change quickly, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. Much to your dismay, you can still smell his cologne on your hands.
—-
The faint hum of voices and laughter filters in from the deck. First you hear Jake’s unmistakable laugh, then Skyler’s high-pitched teasing, followed up with Quinn’s dramatic sighs. Everyone’s outside already.
You move down the hall, feet quiet on the wooden floor, the smell of warm chlorine and lake water drifting faintly through the open back door. The kitchen lights are dim, the glow of moonlight leaking in through the windows.
You reach for the wine bottle you’d left on the counter earlier and pour yourself another half-glass, trying to steady your hands. You can almost convince yourself you’re calm, until you hear a soft thump behind you.
You turn.
Sam’s there, barefoot, in red swim trunks and t-shirt clinging in places that make your pulse quicken in spite of yourself. He stops when he sees you, jaw tightening, like he hadn’t expected to find you there either.
“Hey.”
He nods once. “Hey.”
The silence that follows feels like the longest thing in the world.
You take a sip of wine just to have something to do. “You’re not out there with everyone yet?”
“Needed a minute,” he says shortly, stepping past you toward the fridge. He opens it, grabs a beer, and lets the door close with a dull thud.
“Right,” you murmur, watching him from the corner of your eye.
He doesn’t look at you when he twists the cap off. “You?”
You shrug. “Same, I guess.”
Another silence. It’s not angry exactly — it’s heavier than that, full of words that both of you keep swallowing back down.
You glance at the counter, at the edge of the sink where his phone is plugged in. The screen lights up briefly, showing a missed call and a text from a name you don’t recognize. Natalia. You look away fast.
He notices. “Curious?”
You roll your eyes. “Not even a little.”
He makes a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Sure.”
You can feel his gaze now, steady and unreadable. It pins you in place more than the words ever could.
He takes a slow drink from his bottle, sets it on the counter, and pushes past you toward the door. “Think they’re waiting,” he says, not looking back.
You watch him go, your chest tight, that same pull you hate so much tugging right behind your ribs.
When you finally step outside a minute later, the air hits cool and thick with laughter and steam. The others are already sunk into the glow of the hot tub lights, drinks in hand, music low on Josh’s speaker.
You paste on a smile and walk toward them like nothing’s wrong. But your pulse doesn’t get the memo.
Josh spots you first. “Finally!” he calls, grinning and raising his beer. “I was starting to think you bailed on us.”
You force a smile and slide into the remaining open spot beside Skyler, your legs sinking into the warmth of the water. “Nah, wouldn’t miss it. This place is incredible.”
Sam follows a few seconds later, barefoot and quiet, dropping into the space across from you. He doesn’t look at you, not at first. He just leans back, grabs another beer from the little floating cooler, and pops the tab with a sharp hiss.
Jake grins, arm slung lazily over the side of the tub. “This feels like senior summer all over again,” he says, eyes half-closed. “The bonfires, the lake… remember that night Sam tried to light fireworks off the canoe?”
Josh bursts out laughing. “Tried? He did light them! Just not in the direction he meant to. Dumb shit.”
Everyone laughs. You laugh too, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, but it’s automatic, and your eyes flick toward Sam before you can stop them.
Fuck. He’s already looking at you.
And for a second, there’s that old warmth. It’s the kind that makes your chest ache and your head swim with those old memories. It’s short lived before he blinks, looks down, and takes a long pull of his beer.
Skyler leans forward, chin in her hand. “Oh my god, and remember that party at The Point? When Y/N convinced the cop she was Charles Westam’s cousin so we wouldn’t get in trouble for trespassing?”
Josh nearly chokes on his drink. “That was insane. You had him wrapped around your finger.”
“Hey, I was protecting your asses,” you say, laughing despite yourself. “You were the ones swimming naked in a no-swim zone.”
Jake smirks. “That’s called living.”
“Living is not getting arrested,” you shoot back.
Sam finally speaks, voice quiet but edged with something you can’t place. “You were always good at talking your way out of things.”
It’s not quite an accusation, but it lands heavy. Everyone chuckles lightly. You know they don’t hear it the way you do.
You look at him, slow. “Guess I had to be,” you say softly, swirling your wine around in the glass.
Josh throws an arm around Jake’s shoulder, oblivious. “God, we were so stupid back then.”
Jake laughs. “Speak for yourself.”
“No, seriously,” Skyler says, smiling between all of you. “You guys were like—” she gestures vaguely “—the core four. Always together. I used to think you’d all move into a house together and just… never grow up.”
That one hits harder than you expect.
You look away, toward the dark water below the deck, and try to breathe around the tightness in your chest. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Guess life had other plans. We aren’t kids anymore.” It was true, though. Before you even met Quinn and Skyler, you, Jake, Josh and Sam were inseparable. You tagged along with them anytime you could, always being down for whatever they had dreamed up for the day. All through high school, you were part of their bad decisions. ‘The fourth brother’, as Jake always called you.
Sam’s gaze finds you again, quiet and unreadable, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting off something — regret or anger, you can’t tell. Probably a mixture of both.
Josh doesn’t notice any of it. “Well, cheers to the reunion,” he says, raising his bottle. “To old friends, bad decisions, and somehow surviving our fucking twenties.”
Everyone clinks glasses, laughing again. You join in, but your hand shakes a little as you set your drink down.
When you glance across the tub again, Sam’s still looking at you with that same flicker of something deep and sad behind his eyes.
You hold it for just a second before you force yourself to look away. The laughter swells around you, but it sounds far away.
Josh finishes his beer and claps his hands together. “Alright, this nostalgia trip is giving me too many feelings. We need a game. Something classic. Something stupid.”
Jake smirks. “Like what? Truth or dare?”
Skyler perks up. “Never have I ever!”
“Oh god,” Quinn groans, but she’s already refilling her wine. “Fine. But if anyone brings up anything that happened before 2018, I’m walking straight into the lake and never coming back out.”
Josh grins, quickly pressing his forehead to Quinn’s. “Rules are rules. If you’ve done it, you drink. No lying.”
Everyone murmurs in agreement, glasses and bottles ready. You’re sunk halfway into the hot tub, warm water against your skin, watching the little circle of faces glow under the string lights.
You can feel Sam’s presence across from you… The sound of his thumb flicking at the label on his bottle, the way he’s deliberately not looking at you.
“Okay,” Skyler starts. “Never have I ever… skinny-dipped.”
Everyone groans and drinks immediately.
Josh laughs, pointing at her. “You were literally there! That doesn’t count!”
“I didn’t go in!” she says, laughing into her cup. “My loss, apparently. But at least I didn’t almost get arrested.”
“Your turn, Jake,” Quinn says.
Jake thinks, smiling lazily. “Never have I ever… gotten a tattoo I regretted.”
Skyler drinks without hesitation. Quinn gasps. “You regretted what?!”
“Not the tattoo itself, just the font choice,” she says solemnly. “It was a dark time and Roman numerals were cool.”
Laughter bubbles through the circle again, easy and warm, until it’s your turn.
You glance at your drink, then at Sam. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.
“Never have I ever…” You hesitate, feeling your pulse in your throat. “Kissed someone that I absolutely shouldn’t have.”
The air goes taut.
Jake raises his brows and clears his throat, Skyler bites her lip to keep from laughing, and Josh just groans. “Oh, we’re going there already?”
But no one misses the way Sam’s jaw tenses before he takes a slow, deliberate sip of his beer.
Your stomach twists. You follow suit just to even it out, to make it look casual… but your fingers tremble slightly on the glass.
“Ooooh is this recent, Y/N?” Quinn teases, bumping your shoulder. “Come on, spill.”
You shake your head. “Not a chance.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Leave her alone,” Sam cuts in, his voice low but firm.
Jake gives him a curious look, but before anyone can ask, Josh leans in, desperate to smooth over the tension. “Alright, my turn,” he says quickly. “Never have I ever—uh—thrown up in a moving vehicle.”
Everyone groans again, chaos restored for a beat. You laugh, too, a little too hard, a little too fake.
But the air never really clears.
When it comes back to Sam, he doesn’t look up. He just swirls his drink and says, “Never have I ever… lied to someone I cared about.”
The laughter dies instantly.
You drink. Slowly. And you feel his eyes on you the entire time.
Skyler’s grin is devilish as she points at Josh. “Never have I ever… hooked up with someone at a party.”
Josh chugs instantly, laughing. “Guilty as charged.”
Quinn giggles. “Did it feel as good as you imagined, or better?”
Josh smirks, eyes glinting. “Better.”
The circle laughs, and the hot tub bubbles, steam curling around your skin. You feel warm, not just from the alcohol but from watching everyone’s carefree energy, especially Sam, who’s sitting a little too still, jaw tight with whatever nerves he’s fighting off.
Josh clears his throat, turning directly to his twin. “Never have I ever… hooked up with someone at prom… who wasn’t my prom date.”
Your eyebrows shoot up as Jake’s eyes fly quickly to yours, then back to Josh. They have a five-second stare down before Jake takes a quick drink, swallowing it a little too hard. “Next question.”
You shake it off, and try to qualm the tension again. “Never have I ever… regretted a last-minute decision.”
You don’t dare look up. At anyone. You keep your eyes fixated on the water. But you take note–Sam and Jake both drink.
Skyler giggles and leans in, smirking at Sam. “Never have I ever… gotten someone off in public.”
The words hang in the air. Your stomach drops. Everyone else laughs nervously. Sam tenses like he’s been stabbed. His hand tightens around his beer, knuckles white. You notice that Jake, too, takes a drink.
“Uh…” Sam mutters, trying to sip quickly.
Josh leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Ohhh, that’s not like you. Come on, tell us Sammy. Who’s the lucky girl?”
Sam freezes, glaring daggers at him.
Josh leans back, teasing, ignoring the anger. “Dude, I see the blush. Come on, tell us. Or… should I just guess?”
Your heart thuds violently, a mix of dread and something else that makes your pulse race. Sam’s eyes flick to you — just for a heartbeat — before snapping away. His jaw clenches.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growls, voice low and tense.
Josh laughs, teasing harder. “You’re sweating, man. This is gold. Are we talking serious… or just a one-night thing?”
Sam’s entire body stiffens. His nostrils flare. And then he bolts from the hot tub, splashing water everywhere. “You know what? I’m done.”
The water sloshes against the sides, hot tub hissing like it knows the tension is only getting hotter. It’s quiet for several seconds, the awkwardness growing rapidly. You stand, trying to stay casual, but your thighs ache from the adrenaline. “Yeah… you know what, me too,” you murmur. “I think I’ve had enough heat for tonight. And probably a little too much to drink.”
“Good night baby girl!” Skyler calls, oblivious to the storm brewing.
You climb the steps, ignoring the curious and slightly smug glance Jake throws over his shoulder. Once inside your room, the door clicks shut, and you lean against it, heart hammering.
You peel off your damp swimsuit and step into a towel, wrapping it around your body, but the warmth from the hot tub hasn’t left you. Not really. Not after Josh asking that damn question. Not after seeing Sam storm out. Not after catching that flash of anger in his eyes, and the curiosity in Jake’s.
Everything had happened way too fast. And with not enough warning.
Then, the door flies open. Your towel slips slightly as your chest tightens. Sam’s there, in the doorway. His breath is heavy, his eyes dark, storming with anger and raw heat that makes your stomach clench in ways you haven’t felt in months.
The bedroom door slams behind him like a goddamn bomb, rattling the frame, and you spin, towel pressed to your chest. “What the fuck, Sam?”
“They have no fucking clue, do they?” he spits, his eyes full of fire.
“What do you mean?” you ask, your voice already shaky.
“Them! Your friends! You never told them anything about last year, did you?” he yells.
“No!” you retaliate. “I never told them shit! That was the agreement, remember? Secrets upon secrets upon secrets…”
He grits his teeth and runs his hands through his damp hair, his chest red with anger. “You’re telling me you never even hinted to them that we had something going on? Never at all? Even during all your little private woman conversations?”
“No! Why would I tell them?! It was between me and you, and I kept it that way, just like you wanted,” you jump back, still clutching your towel at your chest.
“Then why did they just act like they fucking knew?! They put me on the fucking spot, Y/N! If you’re telling me you never told them, then why in the fuck would Skyler ask if I’ve ever gotten someone off in public? She looked at me and asked!”
You shrug, at a loss for words. “I truly don’t know, Sam. It had to have been a coincidence, because I never told her about that. I swear on my life.”
He laughs through a forced breath, shaking his head in maddening disbelief. “Coincidence or not, she just made me look like a fucking fool in front of everyone.”
“Then why didn’t you tell them? Why didn’t you tell them it was me? Let it all out, tell the whole fucking truth… we kept it bottled up for so long, they’re bound to find out sometime…”
“No!” he lurches again.
“Yeah, you know what? Matter of fact, let’s go tell them all right now. Let’s go admit it all… Tell them all how we snuck around behind their backs for months…”
“Hey, stop!” he growls, and you can feel the rage literally radiating from him. “You’re being fucking ridiculous, it’s our first night here, and you want to ruin the whole week by telling them that we lied to them all!? Sounds like a great fucking plan, Y/N…”
You cross your arms, your jaw grit tightly as you shake your head from side to side. “Sometimes the truth is better off shared, Sam… I’m sick of lying to everyone… to myself…”
“Yourself? What do you mean to yourself?”
“I’m sick of telling myself that you didn’t completely mind fuck me in the matter of a week last year. That you disappearing didn’t completely wreck me, okay?” you yell in his face.
“Oh, me? I was the one who left?! Stop fucking kidding yourself, Y/N! God, just like you to never get your fucking story straight…” he spits, his hands flying up between your faces.
You could almost feel the redness of the blood flooding your face. “Be so serious, Sam. You left me! I gave you a glimpse of how I felt and you panicked! You disappeared for weeks, ignored me like I was some—some nothing! And now you waltz in here thinking we can act normal? Like— all of that never happened?!”
He laughs, sharp and bitter. “I didn’t…leave you, and you fucking know that…” he snaps, stepping closer, the heat of him making your skin tingle with old, dangerous memories. “Do you have any idea how fucked up I was that night? After everything?”
You freeze, chest tightening, heat creeping up your neck. “Don’t—don’t start with that,” you hiss, gripping the towel tighter.
“Oh, we’re going there,” he says, voice low, teeth grinding. “You remember? You, me, the bathroom in the venue… I fucked you against the wall until your lungs gave out, and fuck, you were so goddamn perfect, god, you were perfect, and I thought—shit, I thought I could handle it all, but then you said all that… made it real. I couldn’t!”
“Handle what?!” you spit, eyes blazing. “You left! You left me, Sam! Half naked, trembling and alone in there, trying not to fucking cry while I thought—what, that you’d care? That you’d tell me you felt the same? That you’d come back and help me get fucking dressed?”
“I didn’t leave you!” he growls, fists clenching. “I went to think! I went to—fuck, I went to figure out how not to ruin everything, because every goddamn second I was with you, I was losing my mind. Losing my fucking mind Y/N!”
“Oh, so it was all about you!?” you yell, tears starting to sting your eyes. “Everything we had, all the nights sneaking around, the lies, the—everything, and it was just about you and your ego? All you wanted me for was for the thrill of it? You selfish prick!”
“You’re such a fucking hypocrite!” he shouts back, stepping closer, so close you can feel the heat off him. “You ignored me! You disappeared on me for weeks! You didn’t answer my calls, my texts! You think that didn’t tear me apart? Huh? You think I liked being ghosted by you, Y/N?”
“Oh, don’t act like you were suffering! I was nothing more than a glorified booty call!” you fire back, voice breaking, anger and pain colliding in every word. “You were enjoying the ride just like me! We both knew it was dangerous, thrilling, toxic, and guess what? I let myself fall all the way in while you—fuck—you were just… playing around while I was falling for you!”
“Playing around?!” His voice cracks, raw and sharp. “You think this was a game? I didn’t play, shit! I loved you!”
“You ‘loved’ me?!” You laugh, sharp and hollow, anger twisting in your stomach. “You loved me but couldn’t even admit you had feelings for me?! The one time I begged you to let me in you refused. You just zipped up your pants and left me there like a whore, Sam. You vanished like a ghost. I didn’t hear shit from you until you were ready to get your rocks off again. That’s not love.”
“Yes! I walked away. I was scared Y/N! I didn’t know how to fucking handle it!” He shouts, voice breaking, trembling with fury and desperation. “I didn’t know how to deal with us! With everything! It was all too fucking much. And yeah, I hurt you, I’m not denying that. But you, you’re no angel in this! You ignored me, too! You acted like my absence was nothing to you!”
“Oh, don’t even start with that!” you scream, shaking with fury. “I was trying to survive, Sam! I had to survive because you were a tornado! Cocky, arrogant, selfish, and holy fuck… you still are! And somehow, I let myself fall for you anyway, every goddamn time!”
“Because you’re insane Y/N!” he snaps, voice raw, and for a second, he just stares at you, eyes dark with grief and desire. “Because we’re both insane!”
For a split second, you almost want to laugh, because damnit, if he isn’t fucking right.
His voice calms, but just a touch. “Yeah, we destroyed each other, and yeah, it was the most intoxicating, awful, delicious thing either of us has ever felt—but we’re still here, yelling like idiots, because apparently we can’t let go! Apparently there’s still something here!”
Tears finally slip down your cheeks. “I hated myself for it, Sam! For loving you… ugh, that wasn’t supposed to happen. You were just my… my friends’ kid brother. Always getting on my fucking nerves until one day… you just didn’t. One day you weren’t 19 anymore. You were grown, and smart, and mature, and and…” you can’t even find the words, so you just let your hands gesture to him.
You watch as he bites his lips in, his chest shuddering in as you make your admission.
“You grew up right before my eyes and I didn’t even notice it… fuck, you were irresistable to me, Sam. You were like–like a secret rendezvous that I never wanted to end. Of course I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t. I wanted you to stay mine, but at the same time I knew I couldn’t have you, not for real. And now, I’m glad I never told anyone. I’m glad I kept it in. Even though I hate myself for it.”
“You hate yourself for falling for me?” he hums, almost solemnly.
“Yes! For letting you in, in the first place! And now, now you’re here, acting like nothing happened, like I’m the problem! Because I didn’t tell everyone you broke my heart?!”
“You think I slept fine those nights after everything? You think I didn’t think about you every goddamn second? You think it didn’t kill me to not touch you, to not hear you laugh, to not—”
“Enough!” you yell, sobbing now, voice raw and ragged. “I can’t, Sam! I fucking can’t do this right now!”
“I—!” His hands slam against the wall, the wood rattling, and his chest heaving. “I—shit, Y/N…”
The air between you is thick with anger, grief, love, and longing. You can barely breathe, chest tight, heart raw and ragged.
“I need… I need to shower,” you choke, grabbing your clothes with shaking hands as you try to wipe away the tears clouding your vision. This can’t be fucking happening, right now.
Before he can respond, you bolt to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. You rip off the towel, and let the shower water hit you with scalding heat. The water feels like a cleansing fire, washing over you as you cry like you haven’t in months. The memory of him, the absence, the love, the heartbreak, all crashes through you at once, leaving you raw, trembling, and broken.
The sobs shake your body, unrelenting, leaving no room for anger, only the scorching ache of love lost and love still alive.
After a few minutes, you hear a light knock on the door, followed by the voice that once comforted you for so long.
“Y/N, can I–can I come in and–”
“No, Sam,” you cut. “Don’t fucking bother.”
—
You step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body, cheeks still wet with leftover tears, eyes puffy and red. The room is dim, lit only by the small lamp on the nightstand between the two beds. Everything else is shadowed. The silence is heavy, almost suffocating, and every movement feels like it might shatter something between you.
You halfway thought that Quinn and Skyler would have snuck down here by now to see what the hell had everyone bolting from the jacuzzi so fast, but they didn’t. And really, you didn’t blame them for wanting to just let it be.
You slide onto the bed, pulling the covers tightly around you, your hair still damp, your skin cooling from the shower. The dim lamp casts half his face in shadow. You can feel him staring, but neither of you speaks. The silence presses, heavy and electric, the kind that makes your chest ache with everything unsaid. Or said, but way too damned late.
Finally, he shifts. “You’re quiet,” he murmurs, low and sharp, almost accusing.
“Yeah,” you say, voice tight. “I’ve got nothing left to say to you, Sam.”
“You’ve got plenty to say,” he snaps, a little louder this time. “You’re just too stubborn to say it out loud.”
You bite back a laugh, bitter and dry. “Oh, please. I said plenty just now, did I not? You think you get to accuse me of being stubborn? You disappeared, Sam. You didn’t call for days, didn’t show up anymore after that. You left me figuring it out on my own. It is what it is, now we can just drop it.”
He flinches, and you know you hit a nerve. “I didn’t disappear! I… I had my reasons. You think I wanted to stay away? You think I wanted this to happen?” His voice cracks slightly, the anger mixing with something vulnerable that he rarely lets anyone see.
“You think that excuses it? You think you get a free pass because you had… ‘reasons’? You were gone, Sam. Gone when I needed you. Gone when I… when I thought we were…” Your voice falters, and you clench the sheets, nails digging in. “I thought we were something, even if we never called it that. But I guess I was sadly mistaken.”
“We were something,” he spits, voice low and jagged. “We were intense. And yeah, it was complicated. But you—you just shut me out the moment I tried to… to…” He stops, jaw tight. “You ignored me! You didn’t answer when I reached out. You’ve been silent for months. Months!”
“Because you left! Left me in that fucking venue bathroom like I was some cheap hookup…” you hiss back. “You think I wanted to ignore you? I was fucking hurt by that, Sam! And pissed! I had to protect myself!”
His eyes flash, stormy and dark. “Protect yourself? Or protect your ego? You didn’t want to admit that you were still… that you still wanted me.”
“Of course I wanted you!” you snap, your voice breaking despite yourself. “I wanted you, Sam, I wanted you then, and you left me twisting in my own head like I was nothing! You don’t get to act like I’m the bad guy!”
He rolls to face you, voice dangerously low, each word cutting like a knife. “I left because I knew you’d never want all of me. My life, my mess, the shit I can’t explain—it’s too much for you, always will be. You think you’re some innocent bystander in this? You weren’t—you were part of it, and you didn’t want the truth. You didn’t want me, really. You wanted the fantasy, the thrill of the idea of me.”
Your chest tightens, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “You think this—whatever we had—was a fantasy?”
“Maybe,” he snaps, the heat of his anger radiating through the space between you. “Maybe it was just a game…a fling. I don’t know anymore, and I sure as hell don’t know if you ever really gave a shit about me.”
You swallow hard, voice trembling but sharp. “You think I didn’t care about you? Did you not hear everything I admitted to you just now? You think I didn’t feel every single goddamn thing that happened between us? You think this”—you gesture wildly, encompassing the room, “wasn’t real for me?”
His eyes soften slightly, but only for a moment, a flicker of something buried beneath the rage. “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he mutters, and there’s a pause so heavy you can feel it in your bones. “I don’t know if any of this was ever real. Or if it was just me making a fool out of myself. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
The room feels smaller, the air thick with hurt and unsaid words. You press your face into the pillow, shoving tears back, refusing to let him see how broken you are.
Finally, he exhales, almost inaudible. “Earlier… in the kitchen…” His voice is barely a whisper, hesitant, like he’s afraid to break the glass barrier between you.
You lift your head slightly, voice flat but curious. “What?”
“The text,” he says again, sighing. “From the girl. Natalia. She’s… it’s not—”
Your heart hammers, as you shake your head. “That’s not my business, Sam.”
“But it is… Fuck—” he repeats, fumbling for words, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not… we aren’t seri—”
“I told you, Sam. Not my business. You don’t owe me anything. We are done. You can do what you want,” you cut him off, rolling over to face away from him, trying to regain composure though you feel the same fault line in your heart cracking wide open. “Goodnight.”
“Y/N,” he pleads, his voice a breathy whisper.
When you don’t respond you hear the lamp turn off and his head settle on the pillow.
“Goodnight,” he whispers, and the weight of it crushes you in a way that nothing else has tonight.
—
You’re not sure when the dream begins, only that it feels too vivid to be a memory and too familiar not to be. The air around you hums with leftover sound from the show, the bassline still thrumming somewhere deep in your chest. The hallway is narrow, washed in the amber light of the backstage bulbs, and he's there. Sweat slicked and grinning like sin, his suit jacket long gone and his eyes on you.
“Waiting for me?” he murmurs, his voice rough from the set.
“You took your time.”
He laughs low, stepping close enough for the scent of him to surround you. Incense, adrenaline, and heat. Your world seems to blur at the edges. Like watercolor blurring together. You remember the sound of the people backstage, the distant laughter in the corridor, a road case rolling by and the way he looks at you like you're the only thing still moving.
He smirks at you, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “God, you’re insatiable,” he mutters as you pull him into the bathroom; but he doesn't pull away. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him as you twist the lock behind the two of you. “Thinking about this since I stepped on stage, haven't you?”
“Worse,” you tease, and without hesitation you drop to your knees, sliding his suit pants over his hips. His dick springs free, already half hard, and growing. “Since soundcheck.”
He tilts his head back, a low sound caught in his throat as you sink lower between his legs. The air shifts, heavy and electric, the kind that feels like lightning before it strikes. His hand finds your hair, tentative at first, then certain… a silent rhythm passes between you, wordless and slow. You let your tongue flick out over his tip, his length fully hard in your hand now as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes.
Your mouth envelops him. You taste salt, warmth, and want. He groans, one hand bracing against the bathroom wall, the other holding the back of your head as you slide your tongue against the underside of his length.
“Jesus, Y/N, you’re ruining me,” he whines, low and strained. “I needed this. Needed you.”
You sink your mouth over him over and over, slick and needy, one hand clutching his thigh as you work him. You pull away, a trail of spit falling from your plush lips. “Needed you more, Sam. Couldn’t stop thinking of this.”
“Fuck you feel… so good,” he groans, pressing further down your throat as your mouth works to take him all. The sounds echo lewdly through the small tiled bathroom, a cacophony of wet noises. “You’re fucking messy as hell and I love it.”
You hum around him, teeth grazing and tongue dragging over every inch of his cock. Desperate, wet and hungry. You devour him completely, like it’s the first time, everytime. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”
“You’re making it impossible to think at all,” he says, his hand gripping tightly against your scalp, the other slung loosely around your throat as his thumb presses into your skin. “I’m gonna lose it if you keep–”
You moan around him, the vibration pushing him further, your own body trembling, positively dripping with desire, unable to hold back your need. You swallow around his tip at the back of your throat, your eyes filling with tears as you look at him. His thumb presses firmly to your throat, feeling the fullness there as he fucks your mouth.
“Fuck, Y/N– I’m…so close… fuck–” he growls, a dark, dangerous version of himself slipping through the cracks. “I’m not gonna last–not like this. I’m going to fuck you. Right here. When I cum it will be inside you. ”
You pull back, your eyes meeting his, dark and hungry. Your breath is hot and your voice is trembling. “Do it. Use me, Sam. I want you.”
His eyes darken, his pupils blown as heat radiates from him. He pulls himself from your mouth and yanks you up by your throat, spinning you around to press you against the cold tile wall. He slides his hand beneath the slit in your dress, hitching it up around your hips. His hand slides between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side with a low, feral growl.
“Look at you,” he breathes, his voice wrecked and thick with lust. “So fucking wet for me. Trembling and desperate…I could bury myself in you and not give a fuck about anything else for the rest of my life.”
“Please,” you beg. “Please, Sam…”
He smirks, “You’re pathetic like this. Wet and dripping…You make it too easy, baby.”
He fists himself, dragging his tip through your wetness, locking eyes with you as he positions himself at your opening. He thrusts into you hard and fast, his nails digging into your hips as your bodies crash against the wall. It’s perfect and volatile at the same time.
“Sam…oh god, fuck!” you cry, biting your lip as you rock against him.
“You’re mine,” he snarls, thrusting deeper, his voice rough and commanding. “God you feel so fucking good for me, baby. So tight… so needy…so fucking greedy for me.”
His hand moves to the top of your dress, roughly pulling down the cup at your chest. His mouth finds your neck as his fingers pinch your nipple between his thumb and finger. A soft moan slides against your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin. Your body writhes beneath him, a sheen of sweat beginning to coat your skin in the humid bathroom. “You wanna cum for me sweet thing? Right here in this bathroom? With everyone right outside? That’s naughty, baby. Naughty and I fucking love it.”
“I want it— yes right now,” you plead, feeling your orgasm approaching quickly as his words swirl through the air.
“That’s it, fuck yeah…you were made for this. For me…” he whispers, goosebumps rippling down your body.
Your muscles begin to tighten, your body shivering as your orgasm begins to crash through you. Your wetness is slick between you and you've truly never felt so raw, so completely undone.
“Yeah, baby, that's it. Just like that,” he groans. He thrusts faster, harder, mercilessly, his hands gripping your hips, his fingertips bruising your skin. “You love this, don’t you? Love being taken like this? You’re mine…all mine… messy little thing,” he growls, his hips slamming against yours with brutal precision.
“Yes! Oh god, yes!” you cry out, your fingers threaded through his sweaty hair. “I’m yours, Sam…please… don’t stop!”
“My turn now…” he warns, “Want to give you all of it. Every fucking inch. You hear me?”
You whine in response, his hips punctuating each word. You feel him deep inside you, despite the angle. His eyes meet yours, piercing into you, you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. You wanted to know what he was thinking. If he was feeling the same way you were. You wanted to ask. But you don’t.
He groans, deeper, darker, finally shuddering. “God… shit…fuck, I’m– Fuck!” his release rips through him, hot and heavy, spilling into you as he grits his teeth, his hands still tight on your hips.
You gasp, trembling, slick and clinging to him as your chest heaves. “Oh god, Sam…”
He presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard, his voice ragged. “Jesus, you’re fucking insane, baby,” he mutters, letting his hips slacken slightly, still holding you closely. “Messy, needy, greedy, god I can’t believe how much I want you… all the fucking time.”
You shiver, pressed to him, trembling through the aftershocks. “I want you… always,” you whisper, voice broken and needy. “Dont go this time…stay here with me… let’s—tell them…”
He doesn't answer, just grinds against you once more, his lips brushing yours briefly before pulling back slightly, breathing heavily as his dark eyes meet yours. “No I—Not tonight,” he says quietly. “You got your fill.”
You shiver against him, eyes wide for the first time since the night began, a flicker of unease crossing your mind.
“My fill? What do you mean?” you spit, your voice hoarse.
He smirks, that cocky infuriating grin that always makes your blood rush, and leans closer letting his forehead brush yours. “What do you mean? You know exactly what we’re doing,” he mutters, his voice thick with heat. His hand slides down your side, dragging you flush against him again.
You push back slightly, heart pounding with a mix of lust and frustration. “No, I mean us. This… whatever this is. I mean, surely we’re– we’re more than just fucking.”
Sam’s gaze darkens, his fingers gripping your waist like he might crush you, as he leans in until his lips are barely brushing yours. “Maybe we are just fucking,” he pauses, “don’t act like you don’t like it.”
“I do,” you admit, biting your lip as your hand tangles in his hair, “but– I need…I need to know if there's more. If we’re– anything beyond…that.”
He snorts softly, a sound that is part amusement and something sharp. “You asking for a reason, baby? You asking because you think I’m gonna say the right thing?” he presses his palm harder against your hip, tilting you against the sink. “You think I’m the kind of guy who does that?"
Your chest tightens, frustration growing. “I just…I need–” you stop, catching yourself. You know you shouldn't beg, shouldn't push, but the words spill out anyways. “I need to know where you stand, Sam. I can’t keep…doing this. Not without knowing how you feel…about me. Us.”
“This?” His hands tighten like iron around you, pulling you flush against him again, his hips pressing into you. “This? You mean this messy, hot, goddamn wild shit we do? Thats us. Thats what I feel.” his voice dips, low and rough as he leans close, whispering into your ear. “You wanted this. You wanted me, didn’t you? Every damn part of it, every filthy second, and now you want it all laid out like it's some– tidy little fairytale where there is a label and— an us?”
You can feel your pulse hammering in your ears. The heat between your thighs, the way your body reacts to his touch…it's overwhelming. “I wanted you,” you whisper, "but I also… want more than just this. I can’t just–”
“You want more,” he repeats. “You think I can be your everything, baby? You’re still wet and dripping on me and thinking about love? Think I’m gonna be the one to give you the world?”
You stare at him, chest heaving as your body fills with anger. “I don’t know! I just– Jesus, Sam! I can’t do this with you if I don’t know how you feel!”
He freezes, his jaw tight, and for a second, the smoldering heat in his eyes wavers, replaced by something unreadable. “I don’t know either,” he says quietly. “Maybe that's the point.”
The weight of that hangs between you like a knife. You swallow hard, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, and his hands slide down, finally releasing you. You stumble back slightly, breath shaky, staring at him. “So… that’s it? That’s all this was? Fucking?”
Sam shakes his head, a harsh, bitter laugh escaping him. “I didn’t… I didn’t say it would be anything else.” He turns, zipping his suit pants, avoiding your gaze. “Don’t make me say more, okay? Just… let this go.”
Your chest aches, the sting of his words mingling with the memory of what just happened. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, voice trembling. “You always fucking do this. Let me in, Sam! Don’t leave me guessing!”
“I didn’t leave you anything,” he snaps back, sharper than before, finally locking eyes with you. “You’re the one who thinks you need more, not me.”
The tension between you is electric, the small bathroom shrinking even smaller, your chest pounding with both lust and heartbreak. You swallow the lump in your throat, backing toward the door. “I can’t do this with you,” you say softly, almost breaking.
“You don’t really have much of a choice,” he mutters, voice tight, almost pleading. “At least not tonight. What’s done is done.” He runs a hand over his messy hair as he glances at himself in the small vanity mirror. He catches your eyes, quickly filling with tears. “Clean yourself up before you come out.”
And then he’s gone, slipping out the door before you can respond, leaving you alone in the grimy venue bathroom, the echoes of the past few hours swirling around you.
The harsh smell of dark roast wakes you from your sleep, making you rustle in the stiff sheets and unfamiliar bedding. It’s only a few seconds before you remember where you are, and a whole minute before you remember everything that happened last night.
You shuffle in the bed, letting your legs stretch before opening your eyes to the sunlight, your breath already hitching as you prepare yourself to look over to Sam’s bed. Luckily, it’s empty.
Your eyes adjust to prove to you that he isn’t just buried in his own sheets, and you finally feel confident enough to let out that breath you were holding. You sit up, the weight of everything that had gone down last night hitting you like a freight train, followed up by the memory of the utterly ground-shaking memory dream you’d just experienced. God. You hate when that happens. It’s often, believe it or not… your ability to re-live that horrific night again and again in your subconscious. It’s something you’ll never escape, you guess.
But the fact that you actually had to wake up this morning and he potentially be the first person you see had your body and mind screaming in unison. Thank god he’s already awake.
Your feet hit the hardwood floor beneath you, cold but welcoming, and you stand to throw on your sweats and slippers. That coffee smell that woke you up now has you gravitating toward it with your mouth watering… especially since the indulgence of wine last night combined with the harsh cry session has left you with a sizable headache.
You glance over to Sam’s unmade bed and his unmistakable dark gray pillowcase that he’s never traveled without, and your heart sinks. That argument last night, your admission. The way his face fell when you half-drunkenly mentioned that you hate yourself for letting yourself fall for him. And now, you have to go downstairs and put on a happy face for him. For his brothers. And for your best friends.
You check your appearance in the mirror and decide it’s as good as it’s gonna get, and you let your slippered feet carry you to the stairs. You hear conversation and laughter, and Josh’s bellowing voice already bouncing off the timber walls. You step onto the landing, willing yourself to put on a brave face.
Gathered around the table, you find Josh, Quinn, Sam, and–
Who… is that…
“Good morning, sunshine!” Quinn breaks their conversation to greet you, standing immediately to grab a mug near the coffee pot.
“Hi,” you mutter, your eyes skittering around looking for an open chair. The only open chair, next to–
“Hey, Y/N! I’m Natalia, Sam’s girlfriend. I’ve heard so much about you!” Her hand is reaching out to yours to shake, her nails painted a pale pink and her wrists littered with thin gold chains.
Girlfriend.
The words hit like a punch beneath the ribs.
Your breath snags. Your fingers curl in your sleeves. You feel the floor tilt, the air thinning to almost nothing.
Instinct tells you to look at Sam. To search his face for denial, for an apology, for anything that doesn’t confirm this is real. But you won’t give him that. Not now.
You keep your gaze locked on her instead, rigid and unblinking, like if you don’t acknowledge him, none of this can touch you.
Her hand remains extended between you, waiting.
Your lungs burn. Your knees wobble. You are one second, one blink, from breaking.
And for a terrifying, airless moment, you think you might shatter right there.
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A week at the lake was supposed to heal old wounds, but it only ripped them deeper. Y/N thought she’d left her feelings for Sam buried long ago, but jealousy, fear, and one impulsive confession threaten to unravel everything she’s tried to protect. As tensions rise beneath the summer sun, every truth they’ve avoided comes crashing to the surface… and someone’s heart won’t make it out unbroken.
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: 9.4k
Warnings: Angst: Cursing, Smoking, Drinking, Dramatic Themes, Arguing, Lying, Blood, Mention of Cheating, Mention of Manipulation and Mental Anguish, Crying. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Yearning, Oral Sex, Digital Penetration, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex.
A/N: Hello lovelies! Welcome back for last part of this mini series! We really hope you've enjoyed this, and we can't wait to show you what is coming up next! Thanks so much for your patience and support — it means the world to us! - N + J
You wipe the steam that has completely fogged the mirror of the basement bathroom, unsure why, really… The last thing you want right now is to face yourself.
You’d been the one to retreat from the situation first, the tears and violent sobs threatening you so intensely that you had no choice but to run away. You’d afforded yourself a good guilt-cry in the shower, trying to sort your thoughts, trying to prepare yourself to fix this.
But when you stepped out and let the chilled air hit your face, everything felt exactly the same as it had when you stepped in.
The thin white towel wrapped around your body doesn’t do much for comfort, and as the steam slowly clears from the mirror, you realize that the state of your face and eyes looks worse for wear than it had after you’d jumped into the lake that night.
You were defeated. Completely and utterly embarrassed, empty… without an excuse left in your repertoire. You’d fucked up. Royally.
You’re mature enough to know that lying is never the answer. Why you never told Skyler about you and Jake, you aren’t sure. You just didn’t think it mattered, at the time. Hell, you were kids. And you really didn’t even have sex… in fact, your memory hardly even serves exactly what did happen that night at prom. There were extracurriculars involved, sure. You were both half-naked still clad in your dress and suit in the back of his car in the parking lot… consenting, young, bubbly and laughing through it all. Old friends just finding an attraction. A bottle of vodka and too many hormones did the trick. A little innocent flirtation and curiosity sealed the deal.
So, yes. Technically he did get you off in public.
But full on sex… it never happened.
It was a blip in your memory bank, though you were completely aware of the memory itself. The details never mattered; you never wanted Jake like that again, and he never wanted you. So keeping that bit of information from your best friend felt like the right thing to do.
And when it boils down, he never told her, either.
But now you know that was the wrong decision. And you needed to prepare to pay for it.
The look on Sam’s face, though… unlike any emotion you’d ever seen him show. Betrayal was the word that kept coming to mind. Like you and Jake had ripped his heart still beating from his chest, stepped on it, and threw it in the trash.
Honestly, you didn’t think the news would affect him so seriously. Why did he care?
Suddenly, the bathroom door flies open, and in charges the man you’d just been thinking about.
“Hey, I’m in here!” you yell as you clutch the towel around you. “Ever heard of knocking?!”
“Oh, we’re way past knocking, sweetheart,” Sam growls, hovering over you so intensely that your back hits the wall. He slams the door shut behind him.
His face is close to yours as your back stays pressed against the wall, trying like hell to stay as far away from him as you can.
“What the hell do you want, Sam?” you bite, your hair still dripping wet down your arms.
“When were you gonna tell me you fucked my brother?” he grits, his jaw moving side to side as his eyes stay fixated on your lips.
“Sam, please… can we just—“
“No, Y/N. I need to know. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why didn’t he ever tell me?!” You can tell his chest is vibrating with rage, his voice choked with emotion.
But still yet, his breath on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed. Intoxicating, deliberate and drawing you into him again in every sense of the word. Damn him and this horrific attraction you share.
“We didn’t fuck, Sam,” you finally breathe, looking him in the eye.
“You’re lying,” he bites, his hands now rested on the wall on either side of your head. “Tell me the truth.”
“That is the truth, Sam. I swear on my life.” Your empty palms fly up beside you, an act of complete and utter truthfulness in this bed of lies. “We didn’t have a condom that night. It—that…never happened.”
“But he got you off…” he manages, his tongue writhing as he tries to get through the thought process.
“He did, yeah. That part is true,” you fight through the description as well, hating it with everything in you. But you know he deserves the truth. From both of you. “We just… ya know. Everything else. Everything but sex. We just… fooled around, I guess. You know, made out, hands…” You tried your best to get him to just understand.
“Mouths…”
“Um, mouths, yeah…” you agree, the memory of that vodka-soaked night slowly trickling back into your mind as you allow the memory to process in real time. “Just, stupid kids, ya know?”
His jaw stiffens again, and it’s only now that you realize he’s shirtless. God damnit. You feel yourself clench around nothing, cursing his ability to make you feel this way on a dime. Even when the situation doesn’t afford it.
“Stupid kids…” he repeats. “No condom?”
“No condom,” you parrot. “We were stupid kids, but not that stupid.”
You hear his fingernails scratch the wall behind you as his chest heaves, his eyes still fixated on your lips. You swallow down the thoughts defiling your mind, your head spinning with thoughts that should not be there.
Slowly his face comes in closer, and his mouth is on your ear again, just as close as it was the day before on the kayak.
“Just once,” he grits through a ragged breath.
“Just once…”
“Ten years ago…?”
“A fucking decade, Sam…”
His lips brush over the shell of your ear, hot and wet from his tongue and the steam of the room. “And never again?”
“Never,” a chill wracks through you, and you know he notices your nipples standing at full attention under your towel. You fight the urge to let your fingernails dig into his skin, to rip and tear at the muscles on his back, to take him right here on the marble vanity countertop.
“I’m better…” he states more than asks, and you know that he needs the confirmation. Always a competition.
And for some reason, instead of giving him what he wants, you challenge him. You force his face back in front of yours, your fingertips under his chin as you press yourself into him, feeling him already half-hard in the flannel sleep pants sitting low on his hips.
“I dunno, you’ll have to remind me,” you whisper. “It’s been a while…”
“I’m not fucking you, Y/N… you can forget that.”
“Your dick says otherwise, Sammybaby…”
“Shhhut the fuck up,” he mutters, his lips dancing across yours now, his words falling with a shudder of his chest.
Your fingers stay balanced under his chin, your nails being unforgiving every few seconds as you both fight through the urge.
“I can’t stand you,” you say, wetting your lips as you feel your heart rate quicken.
“I fucking hate you, baby…” he agrees, pushing his groin back onto you, now. You can’t help the groan that slips from your lips, light and fast, but not unnoticed.
“Then why’d you come kiss me last night?” you ask, thinking that maybe he’d already forgotten.
He bites his lips in, pulling away just a little as he sighs through a breath.
“Pity, I guess.”
“Mhm,” you reply, forcing your hips into him again. “Guess that’s why you told your whole family that what we had was serious…”
“It was serious, it is serious…”
“Stop lying to yourself, Sam… s’not a good look…” one of his hands lands on the back of your neck as he breathes a long, hard exhale… his lips an ‘O’ as you hear his nails scratch the wall behind you again.
“I’m not the only liar here, sweetheart… maybe you should take a look in the mirror behind me.”
“That’s the thing, Sam…” you breathe, your eyes fluttering closed. “I’m ready to admit to my faults, confess my sins and tell everyone that I was wrong… I lied to them, and I’m sorry… but are you?”
His hand squeezes at the back of your neck, making your still-soaked hair drip down your back. His lips ghost yours, tingling like tiny streaks of electricity as you both shudder through ragged breaths.
“Guess I’m gonna have to be…”
“If it was as serious for you as it was for me…” you say, jutting your hips into him again, watching his eyes glaze over with lust. His leg slits between yours, spreading your thighs apart just enough.
You lean over and bite onto his neck, exerting a tiny grit of a choked moan from him, followed by a tight hiss through his teeth. “It was serious… I miss you so bad, baby…” he can barely make it through his words. “But I’m so fucking pissed at you…”
You continue in on his neck, his hand still steady and hard on the back of yours as you’re damn near riding his thigh, at this point. You feel yourself dripping down your thighs, thankful for the lack of clothing that you have on to not take away from the sensation.
His hand leaves the back of your neck and attaches to your hip, helping you begin to pick up a slow pace as you ride him. His hand feels like scorching hot coals as he touches you in a place that he hasn’t touched in so long… bringing back way too many dirty memories to count.
Your back arches at his touch, and your steady movements become chopped as you search for that sweet spot.
“You can be mad at me… Hell, I’m mad at me,” you breathe. “Everyone is just… mad…”
He breathes hard, tilting his head back to give you better access to the column of his neck. Your nails, now digging into his pecs as you both become breathless.
“I don’t think mad is the word, baby…” he says, his free hand reaching down to grab your ass and pull you closer toward him.
“And Natalia?” you ask, your nails scratching and grabbing at his shoulders as your clit finally dances across his thigh.
“I hope the door hit her on the way out…”
You chuckle a light laugh. “I hope she fell down the steps… god, Sam…baby…I—”
He laughs through a groan. “Mmmh, I swear you’re so fucking…”
“Yeah…” you hum, letting his hand guide your movements on his thigh.
“We’ve got some explaining to do, we gotta fix all this… all our fault, all my fault…” he chokes, his voice gritted and deep as he rolls his neck.
“I’m the guilty one, Sam. We’ve just got to fix it all…”
“I’ll be completely honest with them… I promise… no more pretending…” he admits through tight breaths, his hair falling down over his face. You contemplate grabbing him through his pants; your hand is begging you to touch him, but you fight off the urge.
“…But you’re still not gonna show me you’re better than your brother, are you?”
He bites back a smile, leaning down to rip the towel off of you in one swift motion, leaving you standing completely naked in front of him. Still completely flustered, still dripping in more places than one.
He takes a good, long look at you, and you let him.
“M’no. Not today, sweetheart.”
You bite back a smile of your own. “Fuck you, Sam.”
He leans in and places a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead, letting himself breathe in the scent of you.
“Soon, baby. Soon.”
Then he takes a sharp breath and is gone, leaving you standing a half-wrecked mess with your towel at your feet, even more confused than you were when he came in.
—
Okay. Deep breaths.
You put on the blinders of emotion, and let the armor of a brave face fall. You tap into your deepest parts as you walk down the hallway, channeling your vulnerability and readying yourself to admit your faults. To explain everything. To grasp at every last straw to keep from losing your best friends, or at least from losing their respect.
This trip has turned into a nightmare.
The first thing you hear is the low bellow of Jake’s yelling voice outside on the deck, pitched up every few seconds as his voice cracks. You’ve only heard him yell a few times in your life, but nothing ever like this. You cringe at the sound, memories of old ex boyfriends he’d yell at for you mixed with the time he got into an argument with his dad. It gut-punches you, knowing that you’re the reason he and Skyler are having to endure this, right now. Josh just had to bring that up.
A quick glance out the glass doors shows you the image of Skyler’s face, emotionally bruised and on the brink of a breakdown. Your feet keep walking.
Josh and Quinn are seated quietly side by side on the couch, their jaws both taut as they avoid your eyes. He must have talked her into coming back inside after Natalia made her grand exit.
“C’mon. Come in here, sit down,” you murmur to them, pulling your robe tighter around your body. Suddenly, it’s freezing cold.
They both give you heavily displeased looks, so you signal with a swish of your head for them to please, please, come sit. Quinn shoots daggers at you, giving you a look that you’ve honestly never seen from her before. You feel the reluctance seep into their muscles as they pull themselves from the couch and sulk toward the kitchen.
Jake and Skyler’s muffled sounds are still taking up most of the noise, and Josh sighs heavily, “I’ll get them.”
“Where’s Sam?” you ask Josh before he heads outside.
“Out front,” he replies blankly.
You head toward the front door and pull it open slowly, finding Sam leaned against the banister overlooking the cul de sac, smoke billowing from his mouth. Thankfully, he’s put a shirt on.
“Thought you quit a year ago,” you say, making him turn just slightly.
He takes a large puff. “Thought it essential for what we’re about to endure…”
You manage a half-smile, “True as fuck, Sam.”
He turns to you then, a nervous energy already radiating from him. He hands you the roach of his cigarette and you take it without a second thought, letting the nicotine hit your system as one last ditch-attempt, hoping it will calm the nerves rushing through your bloodstream. “Let’s go.”
You tamp the smoke out on the railing and leave it there, watching from the corner of your eye as Sam shoves his hands in his pockets. “You sure about this?”
You shake your head. “We don’t have a choice.”
He nods, half agreeing, half trying to convince himself to stay, and not run for the hills. You’re impressed when you hear his footsteps following behind you back into the kitchen, and the door gently closes shut.
“I really don’t want to fucking talk to her right now,” Skyler grits as she and Jake follow Josh back toward the kitchen. Just the sound of her voice makes you want to cry at her feet, beg her to hear you out, plead for her forgiveness. It shouldn’t be like this. You’ve never fought with Skyler.
“Sky, please. Just give us a chance to explain,” you ask, your voice small. You hold out your hands and motion for everyone to sit.
She huffs. “I really don’t think you deserve one,” she snarls, and you know she’s just upset. Upset and pissed the hell off.
“Well at least let me try. Whether or not you believe it will be up to you… but just know I never meant for this to happen. Any of this…”
“Wait, first, can I please explain to everyone that I was not sending sexts to a random chick,” Josh is monotone, his arms crossed as he sits heavily in his chair.
“Yeah, what the hell is up with that one, Joshua?” Skyler accuses, her tone filled with venom.
“I told Quinn already…” Josh takes a deep breath, folding his hands in front of him as if he’s about to deliver a speech. “Yes, I was sending somewhat risque photos to a woman named Jackie, whom Quinn and I had met at the bar, that night. She was nice, she was easy to talk to, yada yada. When Quinn got up to go to the bathroom, Jackie slipped her card into my pocket and told me to call her. She left before Quinn even got back. Jackie is a talent scout for male models. She works for Calvin Klein, Tommy John, Fruit of the Loom, all those male luxury undergarment brands. After our quick conversation, and my telling her what I do, she thought I might be interested in working for her. So when Natalia saw me “sexting”, I was actually attaching photos into a business email to shoot my shot into that industry. Jackie was helping me choose which ones to send. All fully clothed. All complete business transactions. That’s all.”
“Assumed. Exactly. I didn’t even tell Quinn about it because I wanted to get the gig first and let it be a surprise. I was simply sending my portfolio. Point blank, period.”
Everyone at the table laughs, fighting through a realization of how easy it is for someone to make up a lie, then spread it like wildfire.
You shake your head at the ridiculousness of it all. “So, did you get the gig?”
He shrugs. “I don’t even know yet, that’s how new it all is. And I’m fucking pissed that Natalia painted me in such a bad light without even knowing me. Knowing the situation. You really dodged a bullet with that one, Sam.”
“You don’t even understand,” Sam says, his eyes fixated somewhere else completely.
“Anyway,” Josh clears his throat. “Moving on… Jake, Y/N, go ahead…”
Fuck. You try to swallow, but your mouth is dry. Your heart is racing, and your skin is prickled with nervous sweat.
Jake stands and reaches into the cabinet and grabs a bottle of wine and six red solo cups, tossing them into the center of the table. “Feels necessary.”
Skyler moves from her leaning position against the counter and rips a chair out from under the table. “Well. Is this just going to be another show, or are we all going to act like adults and tell the fucking truth for once?” Her voice is seething.
“The truth,” Sam says, knocking the bottom of his solo cup against the table. “And nothing but. Right Jake?”
Jake fills the cups around the table until the bottle is empty. “That’s right,” he replies, taking his seat again.
“Alright then. Y/N, why don’t you start?”
You take a deep breath, centering yourself in your chair. “Okay. Josh was right… Jake and I uh… had a thing in high school, at prom…” You’re choking the words out as you feel everyone’s eyes cast on you like a scorned child, their cold shoulders nearly freezing you out. Jake and Sam’s statures nearly mirror each other as they both have their arms crossed over their chests.
“It was stupid, and immature… We were drunk off our asses and prom was almost over. We were eighteen, just acting like teenagers…” you explain.
Skyler huffs. “So you’re telling me that the two of you were in a car, drunk, eighteen and horny, but you didn’t fuck?!” Her brashness makes you cringe.
“No,” Jake says quickly. “We didn’t.” His eyes glance from Skyler, to you, then back to Skyler. “Just fooled around. That’s all.”
Sam shakes his head and lets out a quick breath from his nose before letting himself look at you from the corners of his eyes. You nod in agreement.
“That’s all,” you agree with Jake. “I swear, Sky. I’m–I’m so sorry I never told you… it was just, so long ago, and so quick and dumb and… you know. Over before anything really even began. Hell, before we knew it, Josh was walking toward the car to drive us home, anyway. I don’t think me and Jake ever even talked about it again after that.”
“Josh, you knew… and you never said anything either?” Quinn interjects.
Josh holds up his hands, looking at his twin. “Wasn’t my business.”
“I’m sorry, Skyler. I really am. And I know that Jake is too. I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t trust us because of that, something that happened so long ago. Please, just… I know us not telling you was wrong, and we know that. You’re my best friend, and I should have been honest from the beginning.”
Skyler takes a deep breath, her eyes still staring at the table as she chews on the inside of her cheek. You know that she will probably just need some time.
“Everyone stayed at our house that night… after prom,” Sam suddenly murmurs. “You guys didn’t finish what you started?”
“Hell no,” Jake breathes. “I passed out on the couch within like, eight minutes of being home that night.”
“Yeah, I fell asleep, too. Upstairs in the guest room,” you add. “Think I even woke up with my dress still on.”
“You did,” Sam says with his hand balanced in front of his mouth. “Ate breakfast with it on, too.”
“I just don’t understand how you both just, conveniently forgot. Never even touched on it,” Skyler says, her voice still huffed.
“I don’t think we have a reason, babe,” Jake says. “Other than that it just truly wasn’t ever anything other than that. Just a hazy, drunken night that we both ended up forgetting about.”
Skyler takes a deep breath. “You both know I’m just going to need some time to process that.”
Jake reaches over and grabs her hand in his own. “Of course we do. And just… just know that we both feel horribly about it. And how it had to come up like this.”
The table goes silent again as you feel the heaviness fall.
Josh interrupts, shifting the conversation. “Well, Sam, Y/N, do you all want to tell us why you kept it from us that you were sleeping together an entire year ago? Honestly, like what the fuck, guys?”
“Just full of secrets, aren’t we…” Skyler sings quietly, sipping her wine.
Sam sighs hard and scoots his chair closer to the table, obviously preparing himself to speak. For a second you’re impressed that he’s taking the reins on this, and showing some maturity about it.
“It was all my idea, keeping it a secret from you guys. You remember how chaotic that time was, hell, we were touring and shit was crazy and we were always go go go… we just. Found an attraction, and stuck with it. It was unintentional. And it was my idea to not tell you all, to not add to the confusion and the chaos of it all. We weren’t sure how you’d accept it, how you’d react. So we just hid it behind closed doors. Plus it kind of added to the fun,” Sam fights back a smirk.
“Now don’t take all the blame, Sam. I agreed to keeping it from everybody, too,” you add, realizing now that you’re both taking up for the other, when just days ago, you were screaming at each another and placing the blame where it didn’t even need to be. You’re both guilty, and now you know it.
“Why didn’t you tell us, though?” Josh adds. “Did you think we would hate you or something?”
“No, it wasn’t that,” Sam goes on, his eyes slowly traveling to meet yours. “I don’t think either of us thought it was going to go beyond that first time… but it did. And it grew, uhm. More and more serious as time went on. I don’t think either of us saw it coming.”
Your heart falls.
“So it was serious,” Quinn coos.
You both nod, and you take a breath. “...I think we kind of only just now realized how serious it actually was.”
“What ended it?” Jake asks.
Sam clears his throat. “I was stupid. I ran away from my feelings instead of embracing them, didn’t know how to handle it all. Dumb decision. I thought I was just caught up, didn’t realize what I had in front of me, ‘til she walked up on the front porch a few days ago and I felt like I wanted to fall through the floor with regret.”
Your chest heaves again as Sam admits all of this, right here in front of everyone. You feel your eyes welling with tears chock full of so many emotions, so many unsaid words, so much lost time. His sweet vulnerability almost knocks you off your chair.
“I knew I’d fucked up the minute it all blew up in our faces, over a year ago,” he bites his lips. “I knew I should have fixed it all right then and there, but my ego was too goddamned big.”
“I should have tried harder too, Sam. Don’t put it all on yourself,” you say, suddenly uncaring that all of your business has been laid out so transparently. You don’t give a damn. “We were both too proud, too heartbroken and mad to take the responsibility.”
The air is quiet and heavy as everyone lets it all sink in.
“Fuck,” Josh breathes, “you guys really were for real…”
Sam exhales, bringing his wine to his lips as he speaks almost too quietly to hear. “We’re still for real, Josh.”
“So, what are you going to do now?” Skyler speaks up for the first time, her voice a little more calm than it was before.
You glance at Sam from across the table, your stomach swirling with an emotion that you haven’t put your finger on, yet. His expression is soft, his eyes full of sincerity.
“I’m gonna wait for her until she tells me to leave. Wait ‘til she’s ready for me to come back again. I’m not goin’ anywhere this time.”
You offer him a smile, suddenly overwhelmed with impression for him. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable, this honest. He’s going to wait for you.
“This time?” you tease.
Sam tilts his head and readjusts in his seat. “No more games for me, Y/N.”
The table shares a collective look of acceptance, of surprise and understanding that even though it was all a secret, it was real. And even though they knew nothing of it, and felt a little excluded from it all, it wasn’t for nothing. The intention that began as something that was just for fun had grown into something that none of them could deny, having listened to Sam’s admittance just now. They damn near have no choice but to show grace to the both of you.
“So, now we just wait for her to fall in love with you again?” Jake asks with a smile, bumping you on the shoulder.
Sam hisses a laugh. “Hopefully you won’t have to wait too long.”
—
After another twenty minutes of hashing it all out, heavy discussion and way too many apologies to count, everyone finally starts to scatter from the table, finding other things to keep themselves busy while the mayhem of the day dies down.
You find Skyler out on the front porch, hiding from the heavy rain under an awning as she lights up a joint. You gently close the door behind you as you wrap a blanket around yourself, finally shutting the two of you off from the rest of the world.
“Hey,” you mutter. “You still hate me?”
She looks at the end of her joint, watching as the cherry ignites to life. Her eyes gaze out over toward the treeline as she exhales her smoke into the air.
“No. Couldn’t ever hate you. Just… disappointed, I guess.”
“Gosh,” your shoulders fall. “That’s almost worse.”
“It should be,” she adds blankly. “You guys really hurt my feelings.”
“I know we did. And I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I know I can’t. But best believe I’m going to try.”
Her eyes beam toward you, shooting directly into yours. Her joint is pinched between her fingers, and you see her hand slowly drifting toward you, offering you a hit. “Swear to me that you don’t have anything left for Jake. Nothing at all.”
“I swear, Sky. I never did… it was one and done, over and sealed up. I promise.”
Her eyebrow raises when she realizes you haven’t taken the joint from her hand. You pinch it between your fingers and pull in the earthy smoke, keeping your eyes locked with hers as you do. You need her to know you’re serious.
She finally looks away, breaking the heavy eye contact. She takes the joint back from you. The rain is bouncing onto your bare toes as it overflows the gutters and falls between the decking boards. You lean back against the wall, folding your arms across your chest.
“Plus, I–I… I think I’m in love with Sam.”
Skyler erupts with a loud laugh, the smoke she had in her lungs choking her completely. “You think? Bitch, don’t be stupid, you’re both in love with each other. Did you hear how he was speaking to you just now? About you? In front of all of us? I’ve never heard the man even tell his brothers happy birthday, let alone that he loves them. And he just… laid all of that out for you…” she shakes her head.
“It was sweet, wasn’t it?” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself even tighter.
“Sickeningly.”
She passes you the joint again.
“Listen, Sky, I hope that you still trust me. I know it won’t come back overnight, but please just tell me that nothing is going to change between us. I can’t fucking lose you,” you say.
“You’re right. It won’t come back overnight. But you’re not going to lose me. I’ve just got to let myself be pissed for a while, ya know?”
“I totally get it,” you reply, knowing that that is all you can ask for, right now.
She takes another big hit. “Plus, why didn’t you ever tell me how good of a kisser Jake was? When I was trying to win him over, you could have let a bitch know…”
“Ah!” you say, slapping her arm. “Probably because I didn’t fucking remember?!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she says, tamping out the end of her joint on a dry spot on the deck floor. “We better go inside. I can hear thunder off in the distance.”
“Great,” you reply, turning for the door. “Still love me?”
“Yes, I just need some time,” she replies. “Just don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again. Please. I don’t like being mad at everyone I care about.”
“Consider it promised, Sky. Honestly.” You turn back and cross your heart with your finger, giving her a soft side smile.
The two of you head back inside, your skin slightly damp from the heavy rain. “I’m going to bed. No one bother me until the sun comes up tomorrow,” Skyler announces to everyone who can hear her.
“Skyler, its 5pm,” Josh giggles as he checks his watch.
“Precisely. Goodnight!”
—
The rain picks up. In fact, it hasn’t stopped raining for almost ten hours. In all the chaos and commotion, it never dawned on any of you to check the weather for the rest of the day.
The dust is settling, thank god, and spirits in the house seem to feel a little bit better than they did before. Though the tension still feels thick, it’s not as heavy, and thankfully most of the arguing feels like it has run its course.
The conversation with Skyler was cathartic; it seems as if maybe, just maybe, the way that the two of you handled the situation has the potential to make your relationship even stronger. Once the tempers calm, and once reality is realized, then maybe things will turn out to be even better than they were before. You can hope, at least.
“It’s raining fucking sheets,” Josh says as he comes up behind you, joining you in staring out the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the lake.
“Yeah,” you reply mildly, “really ruins any plans for the day.”
“We didn’t have any, did we?” he asks, smiling just a bit.
You chuckle. “No, don’t guess we made it that far.” The two of you stand with your hands in your pockets, realizing the quietness of the house compared to the loud pounding of the raindrops on the roof. “You okay?” you ask, nudging his elbow with yours.
He grins. “Yeah, we’re good. I’m actually proud of you guys for finally letting all of that out. Sam never has been one to keep us up to date on every aspect of his life, we learned that with the arrival of Miss Natalia…”
You pull your neck muscles. “Eek, yeah, I guess that’s true.”
He turns to you a bit, taking in a sharp breath before looking you in the eyes. “Y’know, we wouldn’t have been mad at you guys if you had told us when all of that was happening. We actually might have been… happy for you, ya know? Supportive.”
You shake your head, all those weird feelings of regret still dancing in your gut. “I know. We never really planned for any of it to get that serious. And once we were in, we were in too deep, if that makes sense. I take the blame for it, we both do. I’m just glad you guys don’t hate us.”
“Of course we don’t hate you,” he goes on. “In fact… is it… still a thing?”
You feel your cheeks blush.
“I mean, it kind of… makes sense. The two of you together. You’re both hot headed as hell, but… it almost feels right. I like it, even if you have to pick back up and start all over,” he adds.
“Are you asking me if there is a possibility I get back together with your brother after all of that drama?” you laugh.
Josh nods, his eyes wide and excited.
You shrug, turning away again. “I dunno. Maybe…” You can feel the heat in your cheeks as the memory of Sam towering over you in the bathroom floods back to your brain, hot and heavy. The way his hands felt on you, the way he said ‘soon’...
Suddenly you’re flushed again. These feelings for him aren’t going anywhere.
“You guys have still got it, I can tell,” Josh says, clapping a harsh hand to your shoulder. “I see it in his eyes. God, the guy was itching for Natalia to get the fuck out of here so he could pay attention to you.”
“You think so?” you ask.
“Yeah. I know so. Just know you have my approval, if so.”
“Thanks, Josh,” you say over your shoulder as he floats away.
“Anytime, lover girl!”
—
You’re relaxed under the warm covers in your bed, mindlessly scrolling as you do your best to wind down and give everyone some well-deserved space. It’s been a few days since you’ve caught up with the real world on social media, and you take a second to call your mom to check in. The evening is nearing, and you can tell that the clouds outside are only growing heavier.
Suddenly, your phone buzzes with a text.
Sam K. : Hey
What the hell? You honestly haven’t seen Sam in a couple of hours, let alone talked to him.
You : Hello
Sam K. : It’s raining even harder now
Is he really texting you, from the same house, about the weather?
You: I know, will probably make for an early night
A couple of minutes tick by. Outside, the rain continues, now shifting into heavy thunder and lightning.
Sam K. : You think so?
You purse your lips. Should you lean into this? Or should you keep everything peaceful and normal and avoid any more drama at all costs?
You did get Josh’s approval, and you actually feel really good about how things ended up with Skyler. And honestly, this is your and Sam’s business, not anyone else’s.
You cuddle up, fluff your hair, turn your camera and take a selfie. Nothing revealing, nothing sexy. Just you, your blankets, and a cute smile. You attach the photo to the text.
You: Yeah, I’m kinda already in for the night (:
Sam K. : My favorite version of you
You can’t help but feel a rush of warmth over your body.
You: Really? Of all my versions?
Sam K. : Swear. Love all your versions, but this is the most you
You: Where are you, anyway? Decide to go for a swim in the storm?
Sam K. : No, there’s an extra guest room on the top floor that I hadn’t seen. It’s got a cool window by the bed. Just wanted a bit of time to myself, and have been watching the rain.
You: Wait- There’s been an extra room all this time?! I’m gonna kill Joshua.
Sam K. : I don’t think he even knew it was here. It’s tucked away, almost like it was a closet at one point. What, you don’t like sleeping in the same room as me? How rude, Y/N…
You giggle, knowing where this is going. It feels good, being flirty with Sam again. You turn and bury yourself in the sheets, knowing that you could text him until you can’t hold your eyes open anymore. The rain putters hard on your window, and the lightning flashes light up the room.
You: Of course I do, just these past few days have been a bit… challenging
Sam K. : Understatement
You: I always preferred sleeping next to you as opposed to in the same room, if I’m being honest…
Sam K. : And who says you can’t tonight?
You bite your lips together to conceal the squeal that rises up from your chest.
You: You think that’s a good idea? I mean, the temptation might be heavy
Sam K. : For you? Or for me?
You: Might be mutual, at this point
Sam K. : Very mutual. The temptation has been heavy since I watched you walk up the driveway
You: But your girlfriend was on her way…
Sam K. : I told you, she was never my girlfriend. Jake and Josh told me you were coming about an hour before you got here. Had me nervous as fuck to see you again
You: Nervous? Why?
Sam K. : Because I missed you. Hated how things ended. Was still so confused and mad at myself for leaving things the way that we did
You : I was mad at myself, too
Sam K.: You still want me the way you used to?
You: Sam, I never really stopped
Sam K. : Still thought about you all the time… missed the way you felt. Your sounds. Still have them memorized
Ah, fuck.
You: And how did I feel?
Sam K. : Perfect. All the time. Still remember how you taste. How you felt wrapped around me, how your fingernails used to dig through my hair
You: I remember you liking a little bit of pain...
Sam K. : Loved it
Just then, the power flickers twice.
You: Uh oh… Your phone charged?
Sam K. : Yup. 99%. You?
You: Me too.
Sam K. : Tell you what, if the power goes out, you come up here with me
You: And if it doesn’t?
Sam K. : I come back downstairs, get in my bed, and we watch each other fall asleep from across the room
Inside, you’re praying for the weather gods to send down another crash of lightning, a loud and ground-shaking burst of energy to completely knock out the electricity. Fuck, you can hardly stand how badly you want this, want him.
The rain turns vicious. What started out as a steady hum of droplets has now turned to a full on assault, slamming against the glass in sheets of rain that shimmer as lightning continues to crack. You pull the blankets up higher on your chest, feeling the fabric twist in your fists.
You should feel tired. Your body is completely wrecked from crying, from arguing, from trying to hold yourself together, but your mind just won't quit. It loops through everything like film on a reel. Replaying his voice in your head over and over.
You tell yourself he was kidding. That he doesn't actually want you to come up and find him. You tell yourself that even if he wasn't kidding, it doesn't matter. You're adults, capable of restraint and logic.
Except logic doesn't keep your skin from buzzing every time lightning crashes.
Another rumble shakes the room, low and deep, shaking the floorboards. The power flickers again, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for it to give out completely. You imagine what you would do if it did.
Would you really go to him?
Your heart answers before your head can stop it.
It would be easier if you didn't still feel him. His hands on your neck, the warmth of his breath…You’d promised yourself you wouldn't fall back into this cycle, and yet here you are, lying in this bed, whispering his name into the thunder.
Another burst of lightning splits the horizon, so bright it lights up the room in a flash of white. Then, without warning, everything goes black.
The hum of the fan dies, the lamp by your bed clicks off, and the house exhales into the silence. All that's left is the relentless rain and the thud of your pulse in your ears.
You shoot up, your heart hammering in your chest. For a second you tell yourself to wait, but the darkness feels heavy, pushing you towards something. Towards him.
You look at your phone screen, still glowing faintly, one tiny beacon of light in the dark. His last message stares back at you.
It's stupid. You know it's stupid. But the timing feels too perfect.
You pull in a shaky breath, swing your legs over the side of the bed, and feel the floor as it presses against your bare feet. The house creaks when you move, the old wood flexing with every step. You listen for anyone else stirring, but all you can hear is the storm outside and the water rushing off of the roof. You grab your phone for light and open the door. The hallway is pitch dark and silent, as if it's waiting. As if it knew you were coming.
You tell yourself this isn't about him, but you know it is. It always has been.
At the very top of the stairs you see the small hidden doorway, only illuminated by a flash of lightning. You don't bother knocking, instead you just push. The door opens with a soft click, and the smell of the rain and cedar hits you all at once. Another burst of lightning flashes through the room, revealing him for just a single second, barefoot, half turned and sitting on the edge of the bed. His phone is long abandoned on the table next to him.
When his eyes lift to meet yours, the light fades again, and you're back in the dark. For a moment neither of you speaks. Then, his voice, quiet and rough, cuts through the dark.
“You came.”
You exhale a laugh, “You told me to.”
He stands slowly, making his way towards you. He closes the distance one step at a time, until you can feel the heat of him through the dark. You can smell the damp air clinging to his shirt and the faint trace of cigarette smoke that never really leaves his skin.
“And since when do you listen to me?”
You don't answer. The words are caught somewhere between your throat and your chest. All you can do is look up at where his face must be, guessing by the rise and fall of his shadow. Lightning spills across the room and you take a shaky breath. “Since now.”
The light fades again and the darkness folds over both of you. There's no space left to hide in. He moves first, you can feel the tremor that passes through him, the push and pull that neither of you are willing to admit out loud.
“Do you think this’ll make anything better?” he murmurs.
“No,” you whisper. “But I don’t care.”
He lifts a hand, hesitating slightly. His fingers brush a strand of hair away from your cheek, the touch barely there.
“Tell me not to,” he pleads.
“I can’t.”
His thumb drags over your lips before his hand slides down to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His eyes are dark, commanding, raw, finally unafraid to admit what’s been simmering all week. “No more pretending Y/N,” he says, low and urgent.
A shaky breath leaves your chest. “No more pretending.”
The space between you collapses. His mouth captures yours with a slow, agonizingly tender kiss, your knees nearly giving out at the contact. His hands move like he is relearning you, memorizing you all over again. His hands are warm as they slide down your sides, gripping into your ass. You press against him, rolling your hips as your body begs for more.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he groans into your mouth, his teeth grazing your lips as he pulls back just slightly. “Every look, every touch, all fucking week. I can’t stop.”
“I want you Sam,” you whisper, hot and needy as you thread your hands through his hair, pulling him closer. “The second I saw you, I wanted you.”
His groan vibrates through your chest. One hand grips the small of your back, the other slides between you, pressing against your thigh, his fingers teasing your wetness. “God, baby,” he pants. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters between kisses, voice thick and rough. “I’ve been an asshole… a fucking idiot.”
You shiver against him, pressing your chest to his as your lips brush his neck. “Me too…But– I–I need you,” you breathe, “I want you, all of you.”
He growls and lifts you effortlessly until your thighs wrap around his waist. The wall behind you presses against your back as his hands move to grip your ass, his thumbs digging into the soft skin. “My baby, my messy, needy little thing,” he whispers, grinding his length into your core.
Your hands clutch at his shoulders as your hips move instinctively to match his. “God, yes... don’t stop,” you whine.
He pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours, eyes dark and intense. “Every second I was away from you, I thought about you… thought about this... I hate myself for making it so messy between us.”
“Stop talking,” you whisper, tugging him down into another hungry kiss, your lips hot and needy. “Just… feel me, Sam…”
His forehead presses to yours as his mouth claims yours again. “You’re mine, do you understand? Mine. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt it. I won’t ever again. Not now, not ever.”
One hand slips beneath your shirt, his fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. “God you feel so fucking good, baby.”
You arch into him, pressing closer. “Please, Sam,” you beg. “I–I forgive you…Just…please touch me.”
He doesn't hesitate now, moving quickly towards the small bed. Before you know what's happening he is tossing you down onto the mattress, his hand exploring you hungrily as he pulls your t-shirt over your head. He groans, his eyes dark as he grips your hips, leaning down to drag his lips across your body, hot and wet.
“So fucking beautiful..All mine.” he hisses.
You pull at his shorts, rocking your hips up into his as you pant. “Please… now, Sam. I can’t take it anymore,” you moan.
He laughs, a smile crossing his face as he pulls your panties down your legs. His thumb brushes through your center, dragging your wetness down your thigh. “So fucking wet…So perfect for me. God you’ve been aching for it, haven't you…”
You nod furiously, “Yes! Yes, yes, god yes. I want it. I want you…only you,” you gasp, raking your nails down his sides as he hovers over you. He nips at your neck, biting softly, dragging you further into him.
His hand slides between your legs again, letting his fingers slide through your folds. You shiver at the contact. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean before letting his hand slide gently over your throat.
“Taste so fucking good… just like I remember…”
You whimper, rolling your hips against him desperately. “I need it… Need you inside me,” you beg, lips brushing his ear, “Please, baby.”
He pauses just long enough to look down at you in the shadows, dark eyes burning with heat. “God, I’ve wanted this… wanted you… all fucking week, all fucking year,” he murmurs, voice thick. Then he’s pulling you up, letting your legs wrap around his waist, as he slides into you, slow, deep and completely full.
“Oh fuck… Sam…” you cry, fingers clutching his shoulders, body trembling as he fills you. “Yes… fuck, yes…”
He grinds against you, hips moving with a delicious, deliberate pace, voice rough and low. “Dirty little thing… all mine, trembling, begging for me… I can’t get enough of you,” he growls. “Never get enough.”
Your hands rake over his back, nails digging into his skin, pulling him closer as you rock against him, gasping as your body feels like it's on fire.
He leans down, mouth brushing yours, teeth grazing your lips, tongue teasing, eyes dark with hunger. “You’re mine… mine to fuck, mine to ruin, mine to make lose her mind,” he hisses, trying to keep his voice hush. “Say it… tell me you want me like this.”
“I do… I want you… all of you… oh God… yes!” you cry, body trembling, heat pulsing through you.
He thrusts faster, harder, more relentless, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging in as he buries himself inside you over and over. Your nails tear into his shoulders, back arching up into him. “Sam,” you whine, feeling your climax rapidly approaching. His hand flies up to cover your mouth, trying like hell to silence the noise you know you’re both making.
He groans, edging you over the peak. “That’s it… come on, all for me… mine…”
The first wave crashes through you, shattering every nerve and leaving you gasping, trembling, wet, sticky, and needy. He doesn’t stop, his hips slamming into you, “Fuck… you feel so good… sshhh, so fucking good…”
Your nails rake down his back, your chest pressed to his, feeling every shiver of his body as it stiffens, hips stuttering. His breathing is ragged, low groans vibrating through his chest, a mixture of lust and raw emotion.
“I’m… so close,” he rasps, his voice almost breaking. “God… you feel too good… I’ve needed you… needed you so fucking badly baby…”
Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in, teeth grazing his neck as your own shivers run through you, the aftershock almost as good as the orgasm itself. “Then come for me… please… I want it… I want all of you…” you whisper, teeth digging against his ear.
The words hit him like a spark, and his release comes with a guttural, choked groan, trembling against you. He shudders violently, thrusting deep, spilling inside you in a hot, relentless wave, every inch of him captured and claimed in your body. His teeth graze your ear, lips pressing hard against your jaw as he whispers, hoarse and broken.
“I don't deserve you… but I need you…I need you so much.”
Your fingers thread into his hair as he presses every ounce of himself into you, lingering, refusing to let the moment end. Even after he’s spent, the heat between you is magnetic. He rolls to press his forehead to yours, eyes dark and his voice still raw. “I’m yours Y/N… I’m so fucking yours… and I swear, I’ll never leave you guessing again. Never.”
You smile, breathless, chest still trembling, heart hammering against his. “Okay,” you whisper. “Just stay here with me.”
You lie together, bodies slick and tangled, sheets twisted around your legs, the storm outside drumming against the cabin walls. Sam’s chest rises and falls heavily against yours, every exhale hot and ragged, his hand still resting possessively on your hip, thumb brushing in lazy circles over your bare skin.
“I’m a fucking moron for…you know, everything… for making you wait… for making this—” He gestures vaguely between your bodies,“…all feel like some… some game.”
“It wasn’t a game,” you breathe, tilting your head so he can kiss you gently, just lips this time, lingering, and soft. “I wanted this. I wanted you. I wanted us.”
His hands tighten around your waist, fingers digging in lightly, possessive but tender. “I know… and I wanted you too. Fuck, I wanted you the whole time.” He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, letting his breath mingle with yours. “I’m sorry for all the times I fucked it up. For all the times I acted like… like I didn’t care. I did. I care. I always did.”
You nuzzle against him, letting a shiver run through you. “I know,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I just… I wanted to hear it. All of it. I wanted you to say it without holding back.”
He smiles softly, lips brushing your temple. “I can do that. No more pretending. No more hiding… just you and me.”
You close your eyes, letting yourself melt into him, chest to chest, the storm outside still lashing against the cabin walls. “I’m scared,” you admit quietly, voice almost lost in the rain. “I don’t want to lose this again… you.”
Sam presses a kiss to your hair, letting it linger. “You won’t. Not this time,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You hear me, baby? Not anywhere.”
You nod against him, lips grazing his collarbone. “I think— I think I love you, Sam,” you whisper, the words raw, fragile, but undeniable.
He catches your gaze, eyes dark and fierce, softening only for you. “I love you too, Y/N… more than I can even put into words.” There’s a long pause as you both take in the moment, an overwhelming draw of something more powerful than attraction suddenly magnetizing itself between you. It feels tangible, like an unnamed and invisible force that surrounds the two of you, ready to protect, and ready to defend you at all costs. A bond finally locked in, the key tossed to the wayside.
All you’ve ever had to do was voice it. And it manifested.
Finally. Love.
“Fuck… I’ve waited so long to say that out loud,” he smiles against your cheek, almost shyly.
“You’ve loved me all along?” you tease with full honesty.
“All along, baby,” he whispers.
And there, in the quiet darkness of the cabin, bodies still slick and warm, you press close against each other, letting the rhythm of your heartbeats match. Outside, the storm rages, rain lashing against the windows and wind thrumming through the trees, but inside, the world has narrowed to this bed, to the heat between the two of you. For the first time, you know the confessions weren’t just words, they were the beginning of something real.
The air between you is no longer unsettled.
The weight of old tensions has melted away, leaving a visceral warmth that flows through every glance and every touch.
Your playful vitriol, the teasing and the jabs that once sparked frustration, anger, and confusion, has softened into laughter, quiet but bright, echoing even over the storm.
It’s volatile in the best way, a thrilling energy that makes your chest tighten with happiness and your lips curve into a smile that refuses to fade.
Lightning flashes, illuminating the room in brief, brilliant bursts, and for the first time in a very long time, everything feels right.
A week at the lake was supposed to heal old wounds, but it only ripped them deeper. Y/N thought she’d left her feelings for Sam buried long ago, but jealousy, fear, and one impulsive confession threaten to unravel everything she’s tried to protect. As tensions rise beneath the summer sun, every truth they’ve avoided comes crashing to the surface… and someone’s heart won’t make it out unbroken.
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader
Word Count: 15.7k
Warnings: Angst: Cursing, Smoking, Drinking, Dramatic Themes, Arguing, Lying, Blood, Mention of Cheating, Mention of Manipulation and Mental Anguish, Crying. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Yearning, Oral Sex, Digital Penetration, Dirty Talk.
A/N: Hello lovelies! Welcome back for part 2 of this mini series! I know it’s been a while since we’ve posted, and we are so sorry for disappearing like that. Again. Life got a little hectic for us both, but the good news is we’re back and completely reinvigorated after seeing Mirador in Nashville. Honestly, that trip sparked so much inspiration, and we can’t wait to finally share some of it with you. Thanks so much for your patience and support — it means the world to us! - N + J
Girlfriend.
The words hit like a punch beneath the ribs.
Your breath snags. Your fingers curl in your sleeves. You feel the floor tilt, the air thinning to almost nothing.
Instinct tells you to look at Sam. To search his face for denial, for an apology, for anything that doesn’t confirm this is real. But you won’t give him that. Not now.
You keep your gaze locked on her instead, rigid and unblinking, like if you don’t acknowledge him, none of this can touch you.
Her hand remains extended between you, waiting.
Your lungs burn. Your knees wobble. You are one second, one blink, from breaking.
And for a terrifying, airless moment, you think you might shatter right there.
But you don't.
“Hi, I’m– Y/N, obviously,” you smile, completely struck and blindsided by what you’ve just walked in on. “Nice to meet you…” Your voice isn’t your own, and you know that everyone knows that.
Suddenly, a full mug with a dash of creamer is placed in front of you, ripping your eyes away from this drop dead gorgeous woman introducing herself to you and back to Quinn, sporting a strong ‘I know ha ha ha’ look that you will be revisiting with her later.
You haven’t dared look Sam’s way, yet. No way.
“So anyway,” Natalia rejoins the group conversation. “I was thinking kayaks today? Over to the island? Sammybaby had me stop to get stuff for sandwiches so… maybe lunch there, too?”
If it weren’t for the pure blissful taste of coffee hitting your tongue, you may have laughed out loud.
Sammybaby?
For the love of god…
The table was silent for a few beats until you hear the sound of Skyler and Jake waltzing into the room from upstairs.
“Did someone say kayaks?” Jake says as they join you. “Sounds like a plan to me… Hey Natalia.”
“Morning, Jake. Good to see you again!” Natalia responds, almost too cheerfully.
Jake introduces her to Skyler and you sit awkwardly, a few small conversations popping up around you as everyone talks about the day ahead. The room feels like it's closing in, the conversations blurring together as you think about looking at Sam… giving yourself permission for a split second to read his face.
So you do. And what you find isn’t at all what you’d think a man whose apparent girlfriend has just joined him on vacation.
His eyes are downshot, his face withdrawn and his arms crossed. His cheeks are pink with hangover, and his mug is balanced lightly on his chin as his fingers mindlessly tap on the handle of it. For a second you feel bad for him. For a second you’re confused.
Is that what he was trying to tell you last night when he brought up her name on his phone? Is that what he was trying to explain when you shut him down?
Too late now.
“So, you two didn’t keep us up all night, thanks for that,” Josh says loudly as he angles his mug toward Jake and Skyler. “Figured I’d have to break out my ear plugs.”
“Ahh, well, that’s surprising,” Jake says, his morning voice still very hollow. “Neither of us slept a wink.”
Josh laughs and claps one time as he readjusts in his chair. “These beds are incredibly squeaky, three cheers for you two on figuring out how to make accomplishments quietly.”
Skyler pulls her robe tightly across her chest, grinning into her mug. “It’s called a private bathroom, Joshua. Thank you very much.”
“Oh, well, in that case!” Josh goes on, his eyebrows bouncing. “Quinn, my darling, we have a new game plan for tonight.”
“Can you two shut the hell up?” Quinn giggles, lightly hitting Josh across the shoulder. “I heard we’re heading out to the island today?”
“Yes! That’s the thought! If everyone is cool with it?” Natalia goes on, already clad in her very skimpy bikini and cover-up. “I don’t want to impede on your plans, if you already had them though!”
“No no, we’re good,” Josh says, standing to take his mug to the sink. “Sounds great to us, yeah guys?”
He earns a collective agreement from everyone around the table, and so it seems the plan is made. Much to your disappointment, though… you haven’t even had two seconds to debrief on anything with Quinn and Skyler, and haven’t had one second to ask who in the fuck was going to tell you Sam’s girlfriend was coming.
Or did they even know?
—
“She’s hot. She’s hot, isn’t she?” Quinn whispers as the three of you gather in Quinn’s bathroom, quick-shaving and changing into your swimsuits.
“Yeah, she’s hot. I was like, ‘Dang, okay, Sam’!” Skyler agrees, turning her back to you as she hands you her straps to tie behind her.
“I wish we would have known she was coming, though… I’m sorry, Y/N,” Quinn adds.
“So you didn’t know?” you bark, maybe a little too harshly.
“No, we had no clue. She just pulled up outside this morning, Sam rushed out there to meet her. Kinda strange, but ok. She seems really sweet, though…”
Your stomach churns with a horrible bout of feelings… ones that feel like the dread of a hundred final exams, a thousand OBGYN appointments… and a million blind dates. Ugh.
“What’s the matter, Y/N? You’re being so quiet, and you didn’t eat the bagel I made you this morning,” Skyler pouts. “You okay?”
“Yeah yeah, m’fine,” you lie, “just trying to figure out where the hell I’m going to sleep, tonight.”
“Fuck,” skyler whispers. “I didn’t think of that.”
Quinn sighs. “I’m sure they can just like… share his twin bed.”
Your eyes cut to her with the rage of a million scorned. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I–I don’t know, shit!” her hands flail. “But I do know that Sam won’t put you out of a bed you’ve already slept in…”
“Oh, you’d be fucking surprised,” you blurt coldly, on accident, really.
“What? Why?” Skyler adds, still whispering. “Actually, speaking of, what the fuck was that in the hot tub last night? I mean I was pretty drunk, but the vibes were weird. Especially when Sam reacted so strangely to my never-have-I-ever then peaced out for the night.”
You take a quick gasp of air, half-tempted to let literally everything out, right then and there. Your body and mind are physically exhausted from keeping these secrets in, and after last night, you feel even more tired.
“Where did you get that question from, anyway?” you press instead.
“Nowhere, just came to me. And Sam looked playfully vulnerable so I directed it to him to get on his nerves. I guess it worked, even though I think he’s pissed at me now,” Skyler explains.
You knew it was just a coincidence. A coincidence that unfortunately opened a whole can of worms.
“Hm,” you answer, finishing up Skyler’s tie on her bathing suit. “I think Sam is pissed at everyone, if I’m being honest.”
“Maybe so,” Quinn says. “But you still haven’t told us what’s wrong.”
They both stand in front of you now as you stay seated on the closed toilet seat, their arms crossed as they both deny letting you up until you talk.
“...And you still haven’t helped me figure out where I’m going to sleep tonight,” you reply.
“Oh my god, Y/N,” Skyler shakes her head.
“If you think I’m going to sleep next to Sammybaby and his literal 11/10 while they cuddle and snuggle and spoon and probably fuck in the bed next to me, you’re on drugs,” you bite, challenging them both.
“Ugh,” Quinn moans, rolling her eyes at you. “Do you truly think Sam would do that to you? Come on…”
“To spite me? Yes. Yes I truly think he would,” you declare.
Skyler cocks her head. “Spite you? Why would he need to spite you?”
Fuck. Too much. Reel it in.
“Nothing, no reason. It’s a long story.”
“A long story that we have plenty of time to discuss while the guys pack the coolers… spill, what the fuck is going on, Y/N?” Quinn presses.
You stand, forcing them to back away. “I told you, it’s nothing! I told you that back in the day before you two were even around, things could get really heated between him and I. We just… we’d fight. A lot. Even though we love each other…”
Goddamnit, Y/N. Not that word.
“Were the fights that bad? That you both have this same volatile relationship still yet?”
You close your eyes, trying to calm your already racing heartbeat, full of adrenaline, full of still-lingering anger. “Yeah, yeah. They were pretty bad, uh. Heartbreaking, actually. Listen, I don’t want you to worry, okay? We’re good, I’m good. It was… a long time ago. And we’re on vacation, and we’re here to have fun, yeah?”
Your two best friends in the entire universe stand before you, reading your every move on their own, watching your body language and slowly, slowly, figuring out that there is something that you’re holding back. You know they’re suspicious, they know you too well to think otherwise.
“Y/N, did you guys…”
Skyler’s voice is almost a whisper as she squints her eyes at you, then to Quinn, then slowly back to you.
You swallow hard. “Did we what?”
Here you are, fully prepared to lie to your best friends. Again. Because that’s apparently all you fucking know how to do, when it comes to Sam.
But they both stay silent, both of their eyes slits and their bodies stiff with suspicion. You can tell their wheels are turning.
“No. No, there’s no way…” Skyler finally raises her hands. “You’d never go for someone like him. No way in hell, hahaha!”
“Right,” you nod, feeling the weight literally lift from your shoulders.
“He’s the complete opposite of you, and everything that you’re not attracted to…” she adds.
“Yeah, no…” Quinn agrees as the three of you finally go to make your way out of the bathroom. “No way on earth. Sam’s too closed off, too cheeky in a bad way. Love him to death, but you tend to go for guys who are a little bit more mysterious, a little bit more gentlemanly. Knight in shining armor type with a smidge of goofball and supernerd.”
“God, Quinn, you just described Jake…” Skyler laughs as you grab your bag from her bed, even more unwilling to open up that can of worms.
—
The morning air has the sleepy stillness that lingers right before the sun burns through the mist. The water is glass flat, a sheet of blue light, and somewhere behind you the twins are arguing about kayaks while Skyler and Quinn sort out a cooler full of beers and snacks.
“Alright,” Jake calls, holding up a paddle. “Josh, you and Quinn are in the red kayak, Skyler and I will take the smaller two-man, and Sam, Natalia and Y/N, you’re in the three man kayak.”
Perfect.
Your stomach drops. Out of all the possible combinations, it had to be this one.
“Three-man kayak, my favorite,” you groan, forcing a smile when Natalia beams at you, adjusting her sunglasses.
Sam gives a half shrug like he didn't plan it, though you catch the tiniest twitch at the corner of his lips as he pushes the kayak toward the shallow water. You climb in first, taking the front seat. If you’re gonna be trapped with them, you'd at least rather not have to watch it.
Behind you, the kayak rocks as Sam settles into the back seat, his long legs bracketing either side of the two of you. Natalia plops into the middle, full of perfume and mindless chatter.
“Oh my god, this sun is perfect,” she gushes. “You think I’ll tan or just burn? I swear if one mosquito even looks at me–”
You dig your paddle into the water, hard. Anything to move forward. Anything to drown out the sound of her voice.
For a while, it’s almost peaceful, until the giggling starts. Wet kisses. The soft slap of hands on skin. Natalia's breathy little noises right behind your shoulder.
You grit your teeth. Keep paddling. Pretend you don't hear it.
“Hey girlie,” Natalia sings, reaching over your shoulder with her phone. “Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
You glance back, nearly clipping your paddle on the side of the kayak. “Sure,” you say, flatly. “Smile.”
Natalia presses herself against him, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Sam’s hands stay firmly on his paddle. His expression doesn't change, a look of boredom, half embarrassment, and nerves.
“Cute,” she chirps, “Can you check them? Make sure I look good?”
You scroll through them quickly. She looks flawless, of course. He looks miserable. Something in your chest twists before you shove it down. None of your business.
From across the water, Jake’s voice carries. “We’re almost there. It’s that one right there!” he says, pointing out the small shady island of trees.
Sam exhales hard through his nose, the sound sharp over the water. You match the rhythm he is setting with his paddle, automatically. Natalia, predictably, doesn't paddle at all. She's too busy uploading her photos and trying to get cell signal.
By the time the kayak grinds against sand, your arms ache. Sam is the first one out, dragging the kayak halfway onto shore before offering his hand to Natalia. She giggles and takes it, nearly stumbling into him. He steadies her automatically, then looks past her, straight at you. His mouth opens like he might say something, but he doesn’t. He just turns away.
The absence of that simple gesture, helping you out, lands heavier than you expect. And Josh notices.
“Brother,” he laughs, wading over to offer you his hand instead. “You gonna leave her stranded?”
Sam’s shoulders tighten. He doesn’t turn around.
You plaster on a smile, taking Josh’s hand as you climb out. “Thanks. Guess I’m invisible today.”
“His loss,” Josh says easily, dragging the kayak further up the beach.
You glance back once. Sam’s already at the tree line, cracking open a beer, gaze fixed somewhere you’re not.
“God,” you mutter. “I need a drink.”
Skyler waves you over to the blanket where the girls are unloading food. You collapse beside them, stealing a can of beer from the cooler.
“How was that?” Quinn asks, smirking. “You looked like you were paddling for your life out there.”
“Awkward,” you admit, popping the tab. “Like… secondhand embarrassment awkward. I thought about just rolling off the side halfway through.”
Natalia laughs from a few feet away, showing Jake her phone. You take a long sip of beer to avoid rolling your eyes again.
Skyler tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Why do you care so much?”
You shrug, forcing nonchalance. “Because I was the only damn one paddling. They were too busy taking selfies.”
But even as they laugh it off, your gaze drifts back toward the edge of the trees. Sam’s still there, smoke curling from the joint between his fingers. The same look on his face as before. Somewhere between anger and longing and something that looks an awful lot like regret.
You look away first. You always do.
—
The sunlight has shifted, bright and direct now, bouncing off the water so hard it almost hurts to look at. Everyone’s half drunk and half sunk into the lull of the afternoon. Jake and Skyler are sprawled in the sand arguing about music. Natalia’s wrapped around Sam like a vine, her fingers idly tracing circles on his arm.
You pick at the corner of your sandwich, your appetite gone.
Josh finally collapses onto the blanket beside you with a groan. “I swear, she’s gonna give herself heatstroke if she doesn’t let him breathe.”
“Mm,” you hum, not looking up.
He grins, handing you another beer. “Here. Doctor’s orders.”
You take it, pop the tab, and take a long drink before asking, as casually as you can manage, “How’d they even meet?”
Josh looks at you, half surprised by the question. “Sam and Natalia?”
“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone light. “Just wondering.”
He leans back on his elbows. “I think it was last winter, right after tour. He’d gone home for a bit, kinda keeping to himself, and then one night he showed up at this charity show she was playing at. Local thing. Acoustic set. Said she sounded like a summer breeze.”
You laugh, but it comes out brittle. “That sounds like something he’d say.”
Josh nods. “He tracked her down after the show. Found her at some café the next morning, brought her flowers. Which, if you know Sam, was, like, wildly out of character. The rest is history, I guess.”
“Flowers,” you repeat softly, eyes fixed on the sand.
Josh chuckles. “Yeah. Big, obnoxious ones too. Pink peonies or something. He called me after, all proud of himself, like…like he’d just invented romance.”
You smile like it’s funny. You even manage to laugh, a small polite sound that makes Josh relax again. But inside, something splits.
Flowers.He bought her flowers.
You think back, of all the times he came to you empty handed, smelling like whiskey and sweat, words dripping out like apologies he never finished. No gestures. No grand moments. Just stolen ones.
And now, he’s out here doing the things he said he didn’t believe in.
Josh must see something in your face, because his tone softens. “Hey. You okay?”
You blink, force the smile back. “Yeah. Just a lot of sun.”
He doesn’t push, but his eyes linger on you a second longer than they should. You stand, brushing sand from your bikini bottoms “Gonna take a walk. Cool off.”
Josh nods slowly. “Don’t get lost.”
“I won’t.”
You grab your half empty beer and head toward the trees, the sound of their laughter fading behind you.
—
The trail is narrow and mostly shaded, pine needles soft underfoot. The air smells sharp, like sap and lake water and leaves. Every few steps you can still hear them faintly through the trees, the tinny sound of music, Natalia’s laugh cutting through like something metallic.
You sip from the can and let your thoughts go where they want.
Flowers. A summer breeze.
He’d never said anything like that to you. He’d said other things…filthy, beautiful, terrible things, but not that.
You’d been the secret, the chaos, the thing he couldn’t name out loud. And she… isn’t.
You kick at a rock, watch it tumble down toward the waterline. “Pathetic,” you mutter to yourself.
But it still stings. The idea that he could just slot someone else into the place you once held…that he could rewrite himself into the man you’d wanted him to be, only for someone else.
The trail opens out into a little clearing at the edge of the lake. You stop there, watching sunlight glitter across the surface.
You crouch, dipping your fingers in the water. It’s cold, shockingly so, and for a second you consider diving in. Just disappearing under until the noise in your head goes quiet.
He bought her flowers.
You breathe in deep, fighting the ache rising behind your ribs. You hate that it hurts this much, hate that it still matters. He’s allowed to move on. You’re supposed to have moved on too. But logic doesn’t touch what’s sitting in your chest.
You sit there for a while, just listening to the water, to the breeze, to your own heartbeat refusing to slow down. And eventually, you hear footsteps crunching through the brush behind you.
You don’t turn. You don't have to. You already know who it is. He’s always walked like that.
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Sam says after a beat. His voice is rough from the sun, or maybe from silence.
You swirl your fingers in the lake water. “You didn’t. Just… thinking. Needed to cool off.”
He moves closer until his shadow falls beside yours. “You got quiet back there.”
You shrug. “It’s hot. Everyone’s loud. I needed air.”
Sam hums, not buying it. “You always say that when you’re about to cry.”
That makes you turn. “I’m not crying.”
He studies your face, eyes narrowed against the sun. “No. But you want to.”
You laugh under your breath, almost a scoff. “Wow. Thanks, therapist Sam.”
He doesn’t smile. “I know you asked Josh about me and Natalia.”
“So?” you deflect, looking back at the water. “I was just making small talk.”
He snorts. “You don’t do small talk. Never have.”
You keep your eyes on the lake, the reflection of light breaking against ripples. “Guess people change, Sam.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But you still chew the inside of your cheek when you’re lying.”
The words hang there, soft but cutting. You taste blood and stop. “You noticed that?”
“Always did.” He drops down to sit beside you, elbows on his knees. “You think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours? Because I do.”
You stay silent, the ache pressing behind your ribs. “You look happy,” you finally say. “That’s all.”
He glances sideways at you. “I look trapped.”
“Same difference.”
He exhales through his nose, shakes his head. “You think I did all of that for her because I wanted to? I–I was trying to prove I could be better than what I was with you.”
That knocks the breath out of you more than you’d like. You don’t answer, instead just twisting the beer can between your fingers.
“I told myself that if I did the normal things– dinners, concerts, flowers, it would stick. That maybe if I did everything I didn’t do with you, I could forget you. That I could move on.”
You swallow hard, eyes stinging with tears. “Did it work?”
He laughs once, quiet and empty. “Take a wild guess.”
You want to stay angry, but something about the way he says it softens you. He looks exhausted, sunburnt, and a little lost. His eyes flick down to your hands, still shaking slightly. “You’re mad.”
“Of course I’m mad,” you whisper. “You made me think I imagined everything between us. And then I watched you turn around and become the man I wanted you to be…for her.”
He moves closer until the space between you is charged, almost humming. “That’s not what happened.”
“Then what did?” you ask, voice breaking. “Because it sure feels like it.”
He hesitates, jaw tight, “I thought if I could rewrite it, I could forget you. But it doesn’t work like that.”
The silence after that stretches tight as a wire. You can smell the salt of his skin, the cedar of his shirt. The world seems to narrow until it’s only the space between you and the sound of the water lapping the shore.
He reaches up, stops just short of touching your face. “You should go back,” he says, but his voice is wrecked.
You tilt your head, meet his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
He lets out a rough breath. “No. I don’t.”
Your pulse stutters. For a second neither of you moves. Then his fingers brush a stray hair from your cheek, the touch light, reverent and dangerous. Your breath catches. You can feel every heartbeat between you, all the things you could say, all the things you shouldn’t.
He leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, but he stops there, tension trembling in the space he leaves.
You whisper, “This is a bad idea.”
He smiles, small and sad. “Every good thing between us was.”
For a moment it feels like gravity will win, like you’ll close the distance just to stop the ache in your chest, but you pull back first, breaking the spell. The air rushes in between you again, cool and sharp.
You murmur, “We should go,” and this time he nods.
The silence that follows isn’t comfortable, but it’s honest. Wind stirs through the pines, the water bumps softly against the shore. You can feel him looking at you again, but this time he doesn’t reach for you. He just lets the air sit between you, heavy with everything that can’t be said.
Finally, you stand, brushing sand from your hands. He nods slowly, stands too.
You start walking toward the trees. After a few steps, you hear him behind you. “Y/N—”
You stop but don’t turn.
He hesitates, then says, “For what it’s worth… I’m not okay either.”
You nod once, still facing the trees. “I know.”
—
Jake’s eyes are the first to meet yours as you walk back into the clearing, Sam’s heavy footsteps still twenty or so paces behind you. He lets them linger, and it sends a different kind of shockwave through you, one that’s tinged with a memory buried so deeply away that you aren’t sure if it is a memory, at all. It’s more a reminder, maybe, that even though time has passed, erasing the past is one thing that neither of you have the power to do.
It temporarily makes you forget everything that had just happened with Sam. The way you felt his breath on your lips. His fingertips on your face. The heat of his skin so close you almost lost all control.
But just temporarily.
Jake’s really good at being suspicious.
“Where did you sneak off to?” You hear Natalia’s voice rip through the otherwise serene sounds of the lake, bringing you back to some semblance of reality. The tears that were still sitting at the edges of your eyes quickly dry up.
Her hand is immediately balanced on the center of Sam’s chest, her half-drunken body leaning hard into him. You can hardly make out his response, low and muffled, but you do understand the words ‘she’ and ‘smoke’.
Right. Good lie.
Her high-pitched voice still echoes weirdly off the trees and rocks surrounding you, grating on your nerves.
He bought her flowers.
You roll your eyes as you turn to envelop yourself with whatever conversation Quinn and Skyler are going on about, desperate for any kind of distraction. Your chest is still tight with nerves, your stomach churning with remnant adrenaline.
“Catch a good high?” Quinn asks, popping a Dorito into her mouth as her eyebrows fly up.
“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I did. Haven’t smoked in a while, actually. Kind of hitting me already.”
“Explains why your eyes are bloodshot and teary…” Skyler says sarcastically. “Definitely not any other reason, right?”
You bite your lips and fully meet her accusatory gaze. “No. No other reason, at all.”
She shrugs. “Whatever you say, babe.”
The three of you change the subject, thank god, and for a few minutes, you manage to let your mind drift back to a place of semi-peace, allowing yourself to push the emotions back down into a sealed box in your chest. Just like you always do. Just like you always have.
Habitual, practically.
You listen to Quinn talk about her new job offer, and how her mom is engaged for the fifth time in ten years. You laugh along as Skyler jokes about going fishing later, and how much she wishes she’d have brought a different pair of flip flops. Normal, basic, distracting.
Distracting, but not enough to make you forget that Sam, the only man you’ve ever really wanted in this world, just opened up to you more than he ever has. After all this time. On the beach of a lake, in the vicinity of his girlfriend.
“That’s not fucking cute, Sam!” Natalia’s voice suddenly screeches a little too loudly, making the whole group stop and turn toward them. “It’s actually kind of disrespectful, don’t you think?”
“Oh, shit,” Josh murmurs through a half-laugh from a few yards away.
Sam’s body language tells you everything you need to know. His shoulders stiff, his mouth a straight line. His eyes blank.
He looks down at Natalia with hardly an emotion on his face before his eyes roam to the rest of you, slightly apologetic as he opens his mouth to speak to her. He’s quiet, though. Patient and slow as he tries to diffuse whatever she just screamed about. You watch his mouth move, but you can’t hear him.
“I came all the way here, for this? For you to ignore me?” she screeches. And at this point, it’s almost as if she’s speaking this loudly to make a spectacle of herself on purpose. “No. That’s not sitting well with me, Sammy.”
“Yeugh,” Quinn makes a gagging noise a little too quickly. You bite back a laugh, positive that the rest of you are all having the same thought process right now.
Her voice is still loud, still shrieking at a level that is far too intense to not be on purpose. Her words jumble up, her hands fly around his face, her neck jerks with attitude. Sam’s posture folds, then stands tall again. His mouth moves, his words still privately silent. You have to look away.
Trapped, he is.
“I just don’t get why you thought you could just disappear without telling me.. We’re here together! Maybe I wanted to smoke, too!” she goes on, her voice whiny.
“God, who the fuck cares?” Skyler says under her breath, making you grunt through your nose.
“But instead you wanted to sneak off with her—“
Your heart sinks.
“Oh don’t even fucking start with that, Natalia!” Sam raises his voice just a little. “I took her a joint, what’s the big deal?!”
Lie.
As the uncomfortable, argumentative minutes tick, the rest of the group gathers a collective feeling of ‘ok, time to go,’ with quick glances and head nods to one another. None of you is willing to sit here and put up with the nonsense any longer.
You feel like you’re a speck of dust, wanting to crawl into a hole and bury yourself up and never return.
“Alright, alright… let’s head back! I need a shower and it’s going to start getting dark soon,” Skyler says loudly, interrupting the mayhem that poor Sam has found himself in. You really truly feel bad for him, in the moment.
Everyone stands and begins busying their hands with packing up, folding blankets and bagging up trash. Your eyes close for just a second as you gather yourself, unknowing yet how to handle the string of events that have decided to play out on this sweet little godforsaken island.
“God, I need to chug a beer after that show,” Jake says quietly as he reopens the closed cooler in your hands.
“No doubt,” you reply, slitting your eyes over to see Sam, still yet, helping Natalia back into the kayak. “Are they always like that?”
Jake tightens his neck muscles after sucking the foam off the top of his can. “I dunno. Only met her once or twice, but this is…this is something.”
“Something isn’t the word, man,” Josh adds, his eyes wide as he takes the cooler from your hands. “Sheesh.”
“And we have five more days of it!” Quinn whispers loudly, trying to keep the conversation hush. “So exciting!”
You can’t even find the words. The secondhand embarrassment you’d felt in the kayak on the ride over doesn’t even compare to what the rest of you just endured, and how Natalia is most definitely picking up on things.
Poor, poor Sam. He’s really managed to get himself into a mess.
“D’you want me to ride back with them? I don’t mind, I know that shit’s gonna be super awkward for you,” Josh offers.
“No, no, that’s okay… I know Quinn will want you to ride back with her,” you reply. “I’ll be alright, really.”
Josh offers you a quizzical look before an insistent one, nodding as if to say ‘suit yourself’.
Honestly, you really need to show them that you don’t care. You really don’t…
Confidently, you pace over to the kayak, realizing that Sam and Natalia have left the middle seat open for you. You pop open a warm white claw to keep between your legs for the ride home, deciding that you’re going to need it now more than ever.
“I’ll sit in the front again,” you say blankly, motioning with a paddle.
“No,” Sam cuts. “I told her she needed to sit up front if she isn’t going to help us paddle. Get us back faster.”
You hesitate, reading his sterned and emotionless face behind his dark sunglasses. Natalia is half oblivious, already back on her phone, anyway. You know she’s got to be seething.
“Fine,” you say, ignoring Sam’s helping hand to step into the kayak. You wouldn’t touch him even if you wanted to, right now.
“Jake, push us off?” Sam yells, his voice heavy with aggravation.
Jake makes his way to the nose, giving it a big push backwards into the water. “Have a great trip,” he smiles, and you know that it makes Sam’s blood boil.
After a few minutes of harsh paddling and quiet, you place the paddle over your crossed legs and chug the warm drink, letting the bubbles fizzle in your mouth as you endure the heat of not only the blazing sun, but also the tension sitting in front of and behind you. This is so fucking awkward. God, why didn’t you take up Josh’s offer?
“You okay up there?” Sam asks.
“Yes,” you and Natalia both answer in unison, making you roll your eyes. You quickly pull your sunglasses down over your eyes and pick up the paddle again, ready to get back to the house as soon as humanly possible.
“Ready, Sam?” you ask, tipping your paddle into the water.
“Guess I have to be,” he replies, letting a short breath fall from his lips.
It’s quiet for another few minutes as the island gets smaller and smaller behind you, Natalia still only half-assing her help with the paddling as she switches between holding it and her phone.
“Sammy, take a shower with me when we get back?” Natalia finally speaks up, surely surprising both you and Sam with her sudden change in tone.
“Uh, yeah… sure,” Sam replies flatly, with a little bit of question in his demeanor. “As long as it’s ice fucking cold…”
God damnit, Sam. Of course he’d say that.
Your mind quickly flashes back in time, to when you and Sam were in the absolute heat of your “relationship”. It was the heat of summer, around the same time as now. Sam had reserved a campsite on the river, far away from anyone and anything, the perfect place for the two of you to fuck until you couldn’t see straight, without the worry of being caught by anyone. Sickeningly hot sun, too much tequila, and the campground shower house had collectively given the perfect setup for one of the hottest nights of your entire life.
The whole day had been chock full of buildup– just the two of you, talking, flirting, barely-there touches that sent your skin screaming for more. Stolen kisses and talk so dirty you even surprised yourself. You’d both come there with nothing but a tent, a cooler, and one sleeping bag, fully intending to do what the two of you did best.
The night was a blur, and far after the sun had set, neither of you could take it anymore. “Let’s shower,” he’d suggested, fully aware of the river sand and sunscreen still stuck to your bodies. A rush of hands and feet rushing to the showerhouse in the pitch darkness… hand in hand, sneaky touches every second that he could.
It was only seconds before the both of you were stripped down to nothing, the blinking overhead lamp of the shower house providing only enough light to see dimness every few seconds. He flicked the shower on and pressed you up against the block wall, his hands immediately on your tits, your neck, your ass… exploring all the places he’d been dreaming about touching all day.
You remember his mouth on parts of you that he hadn’t explored yet, at the time, making your entire body shudder with a satisfaction that was brand new to both of you. That was the first time he’d made you cum with his mouth, the first time you’d fully let him in. “Turn around,” he’d ordered, using his forceful hands to flip your front around to press against the wall. The shower water was cold as it poured over the two of you, and even after five minutes or so, it showed no signs of warming up.
“Fuck!” you’d cried as he ran his fingers up through your folds, wasting no time in pressing you forward into the cold block wall, giving himself better access. You leaned forward and arched your back, hands gripped onto nothing as he entered you, the freezing cold stream of water only accentuating the body heat between you.
It was lewd, messy and loud. The slaps of your bodies together bounced and echoed off the walls and concrete floor… your guttural screams mixed in with his gritted groans probably loud enough for any passerby to hear. It’d only taken you seconds to orgasm a second time, even with the setting being less-than comfortable. That’s all it ever was with Sam, hot, wild, and unexpected. Fast and forceful in the best ways- the both of you only using the other to get exactly what you wanted.
Shivers coated you as you both finished, quickly rinsing off in the icy water and cleaning up as best you could. That night was spent together in that singular sleeping bag, but the shower wasn’t the only place he’d get you off, that night.
You know for a fact that Sam had mentioned a cold shower for a reason; his memory was just as nostalgic as yours. You know his mind is ticking, too, a replayed slideshow of all the dirty things the two of you used to do together.
The tension is so thick in this kayak that even a butcher’s knife couldn’t cut it, you’re positive of that. But it isn’t someone’s voice that breaks through it. No, instead, it’s the first few notes of a song playing quietly through the speaker of Sam’s phone.
The first few notes of a song that was not from his shuffle.
You’re positive your heart could explode into a thousand pieces had it not been housed by your ribcage, already beating a mile a minute as the song works its way through the air. I Miss You by Blink-182. He’s got to be kidding.
More flashbacks. Old car rides move through your mind…Sam’s busted car speakers blasting middle school top tens, his hair blowing all around when he refused to close the sunroof. Ice cold glass bottles of Coca Cola in the cup holders between you, a half-eaten bag of Peach-O’s in your lap. Sometimes it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes it wasn’t all screaming and arguments with him.
Natalia turns and scoffs at his music choice, giving him nothing but a scowl and a harsh flip of her hair over her shoulder. But you know why he did it. He picked it on purpose.
He misses you?
But, he bought her flowers.
You turn, slightly, and give Sam the tiniest smile. One that only lasts maybe a half-second, enough to acknowledge that he chose to play one of your favorite songs in the entire world. Enough to let him know you recognize it. Enough to let him know you miss him, too.
God, this is all so fucked.
The lyrics hit a little differently, now, as the situation has changed. The words are no longer a fond memory, but a message. At least, you’re letting yourself think it is.
The song closes out and you hear Sam take a long, cleansing breath, and you feel it land on the back of your neck. Like a soft breeze that holds a million memories, you feel his breath on your skin for the second time today… too close for comfort, yet so, so incredibly far away.
“I know why you wore that,” you suddenly feel him whisper in your ear.
“What?” you reply quietly, trying not to react to the feeling of his lips on your ear.
“That bathing suit, I remember it. You aren’t slick, Y/N,” he goes on, staying as quiet as possible as the next song takes up most of the sound.
You think back, trying to think of all the times you’ve worn this; you’ve had it for nearly a decade.
“It was the first time I ever saw you without…more clothes on. Showed up to Joel Jackson’s 21st birthday pool party in it… I was too young to tell you then, but fuck. You looked so damn good. The first time you really caught my eye, the visual of you singed into my brain for months. I was praying you’d ask me to be your partner playing chicken in the pool, but you didn’t.”
Your eyes flutter closed at the memory, and the way you hardly even remember him being at that party, at all. Still yet, though, his mouth stays close to your ear, his lips brushing into your hair as he lightly breathes you in. You feel his finger reach up under the bikini tie across your back, slowly snaking its way all the way across it, ending it with a harsh snap. “‘M not sure what I would have done with your legs wrapped around my neck back then, anyway.”
“Shh,” you bite at him quickly, unable to really form much of any other string of words. But you feel the corner of your mouth pull up into a smirk, completely into the way his dirty mind will always bring you right back where he wants you. Every single fucking time.
It’s almost too much. It almost makes you want to scream out in anger, in exasperated rage at the whole thing… turn around and kiss him and say fuck it all, you had him once and you want him again.
But you know you can’t. You have to paddle.
But then you feel his hand, hot and tense, land on your arm. He grips it for only a second with a couple tiny squeezes before letting it go, resuming his own paddling. A chill flies down your body. You can’t help it. But to be completely honest, you hope he sees your goosebumps.
Not another word has been spoken the entire ride, everyone’s minds likely unable to be settled enough to make small talk, anyway. Ridiculous.
Not only has Sam managed to piss you off, but he’s also managed to get you hot and fucking bothered just by talking about your legs around his neck. God, no. No no. Nope. Too many memories locked away safely to fall into that trap right now.
Finally, you reach the beach of your spot, so ready and willing to run away as soon as your feet hit the sand that you can hardly stand it. The others are already yelping and hollering and stumbling, excited to see what the rest of the night has to hold. You feel envious of them, as you’d just endured an emotional rollercoaster to get back here without a murder happening.
“Crab legs and shrimp in one hour!” Jake yells as everyone begins piling out. “I expect a large conflagration to be ablaze when I’m done!”
“Seafood? At a lake house?” Natalia spits as your boat finally comes to a stop. “Count me out.”
“Why?” Sam says from behind you, already standing and walking back up onto the grass. “Jake makes an excellent—“
“Because I’m allergic, Sam! Didn’t you know that?!” she boasts, struggling to get herself together enough to get out of the boat. “God, I swear you don’t listen to a word I ever say! Ever! Sometimes it’s like I’m talking to a fucking child!”
Your feet are already in the water and you try steadying the boat for her, but her hands are too full to balance herself.
“Come on, Sam, you not going to help your girlfriend get out of the kayak?” Josh offers his help yet again, taking the things from her hands so she can stand.
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Sam yells, his fists bunched at his sides. “She is not.”
Everyone stops. Dead in their tracks.
Eyes wide, mouths agape. No one knows what to say.
Sam huffs, running his hand through his hair as he takes off, stomping his way through the yard. He forcefully picks up a cooler that Jake had left behind and rushes to the house, leaving the rest of you there to stand in a drowning pool of awkwardness.
“Here, let me help you,” you say gently, holding your hand out to help Natalia to her feet.
“Nah sis, don’t need your help,” she says, finally making her way out into the water without fail. Alright then, that was a bitch move. “Apparently I’m not as welcome here as I thought I was.”
“Woah, you don't have to be so rude to him,” Skyler says. “Kinda of uncalled for.”
“Uncalled for?” Natalia rages, picking up the things she’d thrown from the boat onto the grass before getting out. “Uncalled for?! Just like it was uncalled for for him to invite me out here without telling you guys I was coming, uncalled for for him to basically ignore me all day, and definitely uncalled for for him to sneak off into the words with her.”
You step back. “Whoa whoa, that’s not—“
“Natalia, he told us you invited yourself…” Josh intervenes. “Not the other way around…”
“And you think that’s true?!”
Everyone stands still, really unable to move.
“Yeah, I do. He’s uh…my brother. Sorry, I’m gonna believe him first.”
“Ugh, I’m so not doing this,” she huffs, stomping and pushing her way between all of you to follow behind Sam.
You, Quinn, Josh and Skyler stand in utter surprise, looking around at one another with hands over your mouths. Josh trying not to laugh, but you, honestly trying not to cry. Or scream. Or maybe laugh…
“Welp!” Josh claps his hands. “Chef wants a fire, so a fire he shall get. Quinn, my love, a lighter?”
You stand there in the damp heat, the water lapping against the wooden dock, Jake’s laughter fading somewhere up the path, and all that’s left is the echo of Natalia’s footsteps stomping toward the house.
Josh mutters, “Christ,” under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Skyler’s still half-smiling from disbelief, and Quinn’s eyes dart between you and the retreating Natalia.
You can feel Sam’s energy even though he’s yards away, burning, embarrassed, and angry. He’s pacing at the edge of the grass, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other still clenched. When he looks up, it’s toward you. Not at you. Just in your direction, like he wants to say something but can’t risk the air catching fire again.
You decide you won’t be the one to break it. You never are.
“I’m gonna shower,” you say to no one in particular, though Josh’s brow furrows like he wants to stop you.
“Y/N—”
“I’ll be fine,” you cut softly. “Don’t worry.”
And you are, at least in theory. Fine. That’s what you tell yourself as you walk up the hill, sand biting between your toes, heart hammering harder than it should.
The house is quiet when you slip inside. You can hear the echo of Natalia’s voice somewhere upstairs, muffled and sharp, spewing something about “respect” and “humiliation.” You move faster, not wanting to hear another word.
The guest bathroom mirror catches your reflection. Lake hair, flushed skin, faint streaks of sun across your chest. The shower hisses to life. Cold first, then warm, then hot enough to sting. You step in and let the water slide over your shoulders, washing away the lake and something a little heavier. The words you didn’t say, and the way Sam looked at you when he denied her just now.
You should feel vindicated. You should feel something like relief. Instead, there’s only a hollow ache low in your stomach, and a heat that won’t fade no matter how high you turn the faucet.
Your mind betrays you easily, looping back through every look, every ghost of a touch from the day. His breath. The song. The whispering. The snap of your bikini strap.
You press your palms to the tile and breathe. You tell yourself it’s just the past haunting you. But the truth is simpler and worse. It’s not the past at all. It’s him. It’s always him.
The sound of laughter drifts faintly through the bathroom window. Jake and Josh are still outside, voices light with the the clatter of beer bottles. You try to focus on that. Something normal. Something grounding.
You finish rinsing off, wrap yourself in a towel, and stare at the clothes you’d laid out before you left for the lake. Loose shorts, a soft tank top, and that light cardigan you always bring on trips. Comfortable. Effortless. Harmless. You tell yourself you’re dressing for dinner, not for him. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him to look at you.
But you tell yourself a lot of things.
—
When you finally step back outside, the sun has sunk lower, casting a honey glow over the trees. Jake’s at the grill with a beer in hand, arguing with Josh about seasoning. The girls have pulled chairs into a circle near the fire pit. It should feel easy again, normal, but even from here, you can feel the undercurrent.
“Hey, you,” Josh calls softly when he sees you. He’s lounging near the cooler, sleeves pushed up, a beer sweating in his hand. “You doing okay?”
You nod. Too quickly. “Yeah. Just needed a little reset.”
His eyes narrow, not buying it for a second. “You sure? You look…” He pauses, searching. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”
You laugh quietly. “That’s nothing new.”
He studies you for a moment, then nudges the cooler open with his foot, handing you a drink. “Whatever’s going on, I’ve got you. You know that, right?”
You force a smile. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, Josh.”
But he knows. You can tell from the small sigh that leaves him, from the way his gaze drifts toward the house, where Sam and Natalia’s silhouettes are visible in one of the upstairs windows.
—
The light over the lake turns to amber, and the air thickens with the smell of butter, lemon, and smoke. Jake stands at the grill in his cutoff shirt, salt and heat glowing on his arms, talking to Josh about the “correct ratio of Cajun seasoning to melted butter” like it’s science. The sound of their laughter rises over the soft clatter of tongs against the pan.
You hover near the porch rail, your drink sweating between your palms. The tension in your chest hasn’t gone anywhere, it just hums quieter, hiding beneath the rhythm of everyone else’s chatter.
From the kitchen window, you can see Sam. He’s moving slower than usual, filling a pot with water for the corn, hair damp from his shower. Natalia’s voice snakes through the open window, sharp and bright. Sam, could you not use that pot? I was going to use that one! He doesn’t answer. His jaw flexes once, twice, and then he steps outside carrying the pot anyway.
You shouldn’t notice how the sun touches the wet strands of his hair. You shouldn’t notice how his shirt clings to his shoulders. And yet you do.
Jake calls your name. “You good at cracking crab legs, or am I about to have to give you a crash course?”
You answer with a weak laugh, stepping closer to the table he’s set out by the fire pit. He’s already laid newspaper down, two bowls for shells, a mountain of shrimp grilled to perfection. Everything smells like summer and salt and a little bit of tension.
“Looks incredible,” you tell him.
“Good. Maybe food’ll calm everyone down,” Jake replies, eyes cutting toward the house for just a second.
You don’t ask what he means. You don’t have to.
Dinner begins in that cautious, tip-toed way that groups do when they’re pretending the air isn’t loaded. Natalia sits beside Sam but keeps her attention on her phone, flicking through photos. The others talk about nothing of substance. The lake, the weather, the ridiculous price of gas in the next town over. You nod along, smiling when you should, and sipping too often from your white claw.
Jake’s cooking really is good, which helps. You’re halfway through your plate when he says, “Firewood’s getting low. Anyone want to help me grab a few logs before it gets dark?”
“I’ll come,” you offer immediately, grateful for an excuse to move. Josh lifts an eyebrow, as if to ask if you’re sure, and you flash him a tiny smile.
You follow Jake into the trees, the evening light stretching long shadows across the ground. The forest smells like pine and smoke. Somewhere back near the water, you hear Sam laugh. A short, surprised sound, and it hits you straight in the ribs.
Jake’s already collecting branches, efficient and quiet. “You okay?” he asks without looking up.
You shrug, pretending to adjust your grip on the bundle of sticks in your arms. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’ve been better.”
He nods once, letting it rest. That’s what you like about Jake. He doesn’t push, just hands you a heavier log so you have something to hold instead of the truth.
When you come back to the clearing, the fire’s catching. Sparks twist upward, tiny galaxies disappearing into dusk. Sam’s crouched beside the pit, poking at the kindling with a stick. Natalia’s gone. Inside, maybe. The sight of him alone by the flames pulls your pulse higher, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t.
He glances up as you drop the wood onto the pile. “Thanks,” he says, voice low, rough from the smoke. For a moment, it’s almost normal. Almost like all the months between haven’t rearranged the two of you into strangers.
“Jake’s the one doing the work,” you answer, brushing your hands off on your shorts.
Sam studies you. “You change your hair or something?”
You blink. “No.”
He nods slowly, half a smile tugging at his mouth. “Looks different. Lighter.”
You hate that your heart trips on the smallest things. You hate that he still remembers how to make you stumble with almost nothing.
Jake clears his throat. “Alright, I’ll go grab the rest of the food. Don’t let this burn down the whole place.”
When he disappears toward the house, silence stretches between you and Sam, filled only by the crackling of wood and the hiss of the lake behind you.
“Rough day,” he says at last.
“Understatement of the year.”
He kicks at the sand with his shoe, then looks at you. Hard, like he’s searching for proof that you’re still angry, or that you still care. “You didn’t have to stay quiet earlier. When she started in on you.”
“I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“It’s already worse,” he says, the words flat, resigned.
You cross your arms. “Then maybe you should fix it.”
“I’m trying,” he mutters, and when he meets your eyes again, there’s something raw there. “I shouldn’t have let her talk about you like that.”
“You also shouldn’t have—nevermind.” You stop yourself. What’s the point? The air’s thick enough with things you can’t say.
He watches you, waiting for you to continue, but you shake your head and look away. The fire crackles louder, filling the gap where your voice should be.
—
By the time everyone gathers again, the night’s fully fallen. The lake’s gone black, the surface reflecting pinpricks of starlight. Jake’s playing music gently from his guitar, something bluesy and slow. The group’s laughter ebbs and flows with the waves of conversation. Natalia’s reappeared, quiet now, drinking a hard cider.
You take a seat on the bench nearest the fire, the warmth licking at your knees. Josh sits beside you, close enough that you can feel his shoulder, solid and calm. He leans toward you. “Still think you’re fine?”
You exhale, watching sparks dance upward. “I’m getting there.”
“Okay,” he says simply, but his tone tells you he doesn’t believe you.
Across the circle, Sam’s staring into the fire, face caught in the orange light. His expression is unreadable, but every few minutes, you catch his gaze flickering toward you, soft, hesitant, and almost guilty. Every single time, you look away first.
Jake passes around another round of drinks, and for a while the conversation smooths out again. Stories from past tours, half-remembered nights in cities that blur together. You laugh when you’re supposed to, and the sound feels foreign in your mouth.
The hours stretch thin. The fire burns lower. One by one, people start peeling away toward their rooms until it’s just you, the coals, and the whisper of crickets. Skyler and Quinn had decided to share a bowl, and you knew from their immediate giggles and relaxed posture that they wouldn’t last much longer, anyway.
You stay because you don’t want to go inside yet. Because somehow the couch feels lonelier than this.
The fire is half-collapsed now, a slow, pulsing heart of orange deep inside the ash. Everyone else has gone. Their laughter has thinned into the walls of the house, muted by screens and showers and doors closing one after another. What’s left is you, the smell of smoke, and the soft hum of the lake.
You pull your knees up to your chest and stare into the embers. The air’s cooler now, sharp enough to sting your skin where the flames can’t reach.
You tell yourself you’ll just stay until the last spark goes out. Like you’re waiting for something to end, though you can’t name what.
The wood hisses, spits, and breaks. You imagine each crack as a sound you’ve swallowed all day. Every unsaid word, every bitten back feeling.
You picture Sam upstairs, probably sitting on the edge of some bed, running his hands through his hair, trying to fix something already too broken to patch. You picture Natalia, pouting in the mirror, replaying every scene with herself as the victim.
And then you picture the look on his face earlier. His jaw tight, his voice low. She’s not my girlfriend. You keep replaying that too, even though it shouldn’t matter, even though it’s the exact kind of thing that keeps you awake at night.
The flames shift, and a wave of heat brushes your knees. You remember the kayak…His whisper, his hand on your arm, the way the world seemed to tilt for just a second like it used to. Like nothing had changed.
But everything has changed. He changed it.
You take another sip of your drink, now warm and flat, and swallow hard. You’re angry with yourself for still feeling it. For still wanting anything from him after the mess he made of you. But want doesn’t care about pride. Want never does.
The night is so quiet you can hear the insects in the grass and the rhythmic push of water against the dock. You can almost convince yourself you’re somewhere else. Some other summer, before the lies, before the silence, before you knew what it meant to lose someone who was never really yours.
You close your eyes and rest your chin on your knees. The fire makes a low pop, sending a single spark floating into the dark. You watch it rise until it’s gone, swallowed by the night.
Maybe this is all that’s left between you and him. A few sparks from something that burned too hot to last.
You should go inside. You should let it die.
But you stay.
You stay until the light fades to nothing, until the air turns cold, until you hear it. The first sharp sound of raised voices down by the dock.
At first, it doesn’t register. Just another argument, another flare of drama you want no part of. But then you hear your name in Natalia’s voice, and Sam’s right after, lower, sharper, too familiar. You freeze, listening. The words carry. You embarrassed me. Stop twisting it. Don’t walk away from me.
You stand slowly, heart knocking against your ribs. When the shouting turns into the sound of hurried footsteps on the dock, you start toward them, intending to step in, to do something before the night collapses completely.
“…don’t talk about her, Sam!” Natalia shouts, her silhouette a jagged outline against the lake. She’s weaving slightly, the rhythm of too many drinks, the kind of motion that spells trouble long before it hits.
Sam’s back is turned to you, shoulders drawn up, hands out like he’s trying to keep her from doing something stupid. You can’t make out his words, only the shape of his frustration in the air between them.
You slow your steps, hands half-raised. “Hey, what’s going on?”
The question barely leaves your mouth before Natalia spins, eyes wild and glassy.
“Of course you’re here,” she spits. Her voice carries across the dock, sharp enough to cut through the night. “Here to finish what you started?”
“What?” The word leaves you flat, confused. “I just—”
But she’s already moving, storming past Sam with a half-sob, half-growl. The dock rattles under her steps as she brushes past you, hard, a full shoulder check that sends you and her stumbling backward.
The world tilts for a second, the air sharp and cold. Then there’s a splash.
Natalia shrieks, the sound slicing through the quiet night, and you watch in shock as she disappears beneath the water. Her limbs flail, sending ripples across the black surface, and Sam lunges forward, hands outstretched.
For a split second, everything stops.
“Jesus Christ!” Sam’s voice cracks open the silence, pure panic. He’s already stripping off his flannel as he dives in.
You don’t think, you just run, cold air slicing through your lungs, toes barely gripping the dock before you leap in after them.
The shock of the water steals your breath. You kick hard, eyes stinging, scanning until you catch movement. A hand, a flash of hair. Sam’s got her under the arms, dragging her up, but she’s coughing, thrashing. You reach for her other arm, helping haul her toward the shallows. Rocks bite at your legs and you can feel the scraping but you don’t care.
When you finally pull her onto the bank, she’s sputtering lake water and swearing. You collapse beside her, gasping, shaking from adrenaline.
“What the hell happened?” you manage between breaths.
She pushes her hair out of her face, glaring up at you. “You—” she coughs hard, spitting water—“you pushed me!”
The accusation hits like a slap. “What? No? Natalia–”
Sam’s voice breaks in, firm, desperate. “Nat. She would never.”
But Natalia’s already screaming again with wild, half-drunk fury. “Seriously, Sam? You’re defending her?! After everything—”
“No, Nat–”
She wipes water from her face with the back of her sleeve, hissing through clenched teeth. “You better watch yourself,” she spits.
“Enough!” Sam snaps, but it’s too late. The noise has drawn the others. Jake’s running down from the yard, Josh close behind, flashlight cutting across the beach.
By the time they reach you, everyone’s shouting. Questions, confusion, and the smell of wet earth thick around you. Jake crouches, grabbing your arm. “Y/N, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” you say automatically, though your knees burn.
Natalia’s still heaving, eyes blazing. “She pushed me!”
“She didn’t,” Sam says again, quieter this time, exhausted.
Josh steps between them, voice calm but sharp. “Okay, okay. Enough. It’s late, everyone’s soaked. Let’s just go inside and we can…figure it out in the morning.”
He turns to you. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll find that rollaway bed for you. Everyone needs space tonight.”
You let him lead you up the path, too tired to argue, too wrung out to even look back. The voices behind you fade into the hum of the night, and you can’t tell which sound is your heartbeat and which is the water.
—
The cabin is quiet now. Your hair sticks to your neck, your clothes damp and cold, and the cut on your knee aches every time you shift. The night air outside has seeped in, carrying the faint smell of smoke and the lingering chill from the lake.
Josh moves quietly around the room, his presence steady and unassuming. He sets up a cot beside the wall, smoothing the blanket before stepping back. When he looks at you, he offers a half-smile…tired, almost apologetic, but comforting. “We’ll fix it, I promise,” he says softly. “Sleep.”
He leaves the room, allowing you to change out of your lake soaked clothes, before you crawl into the small, metallic cot.
You pull your knees closer to your chest, letting the cot’s thin mattress support your weary body. It’s surprisingly comfortable. The warmth of the cabin is faint, but it feels safer than the night outside, safer than the tension still clinging to the air. Your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion from the evening’s chaos pressing down like a weight.
You close your eyes, trying to shut out the memory of the dock, Natalia’s shriek and the cold splash of icy water. But the images linger, spinning behind your eyelids. Why does it still hurt so much? I didn’t push her. I didn’t. So why does my chest feel like it’s being twisted?
The shadows cast by the fading firelight stretch across the floorboards, flickering gently with the movement of your shallow breaths. I should sleep. Just sleep. I can’t fix tonight, I can’t fix anything… I just need to survive it.
Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy. Thoughts blur and twist together. Warmth, cold, fear, longing, until they’re nothing but a soft, distant hum beneath the ache in your chest.
And just as sleep is about to claim you, a hand rests lightly on your cheek. It’s gentle enough to startle you and warm enough to make your heart stutter. Sam’s face is close, shadowed in the dim light, his eyes soft and unguarded. He stares at you for a moment before finally speaking.
“I know you didn’t push her,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent, careful not to startle you.
You blink, swallowing hard. “Then why didn’t you say more? Why didn’t you—”
“Because I was trying not to make it worse than it already was,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across your cheek in the most tender motion.
“You did anyway,” you whisper, voice barely audible, a tremor threading through your words.
He leans closer, resting his forehead briefly against yours. For a moment, neither of you breathes. The world narrows to the gentle rise and fall of your chests, the quiet intimacy of a touch that speaks louder than words ever could.
And then, softly, he presses his lips to yours. Careful, fleeting, and almost reluctant. Not a kiss of desire, but one of reassurance, apology and unspoken promise. Your eyes flutter closed, holding onto the warmth and the steadiness of him.
When he pulls back, the faintest trace of a sad smile lingers on his lips. “Go back to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispers, and this time you listen.
His fingers linger a moment longer, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face, before he quietly pulls back. The door clicks softly behind him as he leaves, and you’re left alone with the deafening silence.
Sleep comes slowly and unevenly. The memory of his hand on your face and the softness of his lips etched sharply into your mind, leaving you ache-filled and yearning even in your quietest, loneliest, and darkest hour.
—
You’re not sure how long you slept. You’re not sure you even really slept, at all. If it weren’t for the residual alcohol forcing your body into some type of REM stage, you’re positive you’d have stayed up all night long.
But you’re startled awake again by the sound of the door opening. Not carefully, but more so to make sure that whoever opened it, woke you up. And in pour Skyler and Quinn.
“Good morning sunshine,” Quinn whispers as she pads toward the cot, her feet covered in thick socks and hands full with two cups of coffee. Skyler shuts the door and follows behind, skipping every other step to make it over to you faster.
“What in the ever-loving fuck happened last night?!” Quinn asks as you take the mug, sitting up on the squeaky cot as they take their places on the plush rug on the floor below you.
You take a deep breath, shaking away the half-sleep from your brain before indulging in a long drink of the steaming coffee.
“I don’t know, guys. I don’t even know…” you reply, putting a hand to your forehead in hopes that maybe you can just suppress the memory, wipe it clean away instead of having to rehash and relive it all over again.
“We went to bed fairly late,” Quinn goes on, criss-crossing her legs below her. “Didn’t think there’d be that much drama still.”
“Neither did I,” you laugh half heartedly. “Natalia just…” You bite the words in two, her name feeling like shards of glass in your mouth. “I was the last one sitting by the fire, just watching it die out, really…minding my own business. And all the sudden I hear her and Sam down on the dock, the same gritty voice yelling at him again. Both of them, arguing… It sounded like it was getting kind of heated, to the point where I felt like I needed to intervene just to act as a buffer so they didn’t kill each other. So I did, I went down there just to try and calm them, but she– she went fucking wild, she saw me and spit more insane accusations and tried to push by me. She was already stumbling over her own feet, and then she shoulder checked me, made us both trip. She fell into the water… she was really intoxicated, guys, honestly my stomach fucking sank. Sam jumped right in after her, and so did I… we pulled her up out of the water and we got her onto the beach… She was choking, crying… still spewing her shit even after we’d just saved her ass…”
“Jesus…” Skyler breathes as they both lock into the story.
“Even when we got her safe she was still going on and on, she said that I fucking pushed her off the dock,” you say, your mind already numb to having to relive it all again, relive the look on Sam’s face…
“What?!” they both cry in unison, still trying to stay quiet. “Was she serious?!”
You nod, “Yeah, she was serious. Accused me of shoving her right in.”
“And Sam took up for you, right? He told her that you would never–”
You shrug one shoulder. “He tried, I guess. His efforts didn’t blow me away or anything…” you recollect. “Didn’t have much time to talk about it before Jake and Josh came down and pulled us all back to the house.” For a second, you contemplate telling them that Sam came back into the room, told you he knew that you’d never push her into the water, kissed you…
But you leave it. It’s all too much.
“God,” Quinn rests back, hugging her legs to her chest. “This is ridiculous. I’m so sorry we missed everything… we shouldn’t have gotten so stoned.”
“S’okay,” you go on. “I was really just enjoying myself, alone, watching the fire die… ‘til the tornado rolled through.”
“Why is she so hell-bent on being so horrid to you?” Skyler asks. “Like where is this jealousy coming from?”
You stay blank, looking them both in the eyes as the same old thoughts swirl around in your mind.
Natalia’s gut feeling isn’t wrong. And that is the hardest pill to swallow.
“Maybe I should just go home,” you mutter, swirling the cooling coffee in your hand. “Maybe I should just leave, let them enjoy their time–”
“No the hell you will not!” Skyler bites. “This is your vacation, Y/N, Natalia invited herself without any of our knowledge. You paid the money to be here, you made the plans with us. You’re staying, that’s final. She can fuck all the way off, for all I care.”
Quinn nods in agreement.
Your heart wrenches again, watching your best friends defend you so intensely, when in all reality, you’ve still kept them in the dark. Even with everything that has happened, even with all of the drama of the past twelve hours, you still hold on to hope that everything that happened with you and Sam could still stay just a memory. A slice of time locked away in a safe and buried in the deepest part of the ocean.
But with the way things are going, it seems that the universe has other plans. It’s almost unavoidable.
“Thanks, guys,” you reply solemnly, your entire body heavy with dread of getting out of this bed and facing the day. Facing everyone else… facing Sam.
“Go take a shower,” Quinn says, standing and taking your hand. “Get yourself back together, and come out here with us. We have no plans for the whole day.”
“Are Sam and her–”
“Still asleep,” Skyler interrupts. “After hearing all of that, I’m sure she’ll sleep half the day away.”
“That’s probably in her best interest,” you say, pulling the covers away from your legs.
—
“Want some whiskey in that?” Jake growls in your ear as you pour yourself another cupful of coffee.
You chuckle as you turn to him, a look of pure mischief on his face. “It’s 9:30 in the morning, Jacob.”
“And? We’re on vacation, and you jumped into the lake to save a crazy lady from drowning last night. You deserve it,” he goes on, keeping his voice hush.
“No, she pushed her, remember?” Skyler bites back a sarcastic laugh.
“Oh right, yeah. You pushed the crazy lady into the lake. You need a stiff drink!” Jake says.
“Ugh, you’re both impossible,” you laugh along with them. “The last thing I need is spiked caffeine, right now. My nerves are fucking shot.”
“About to get a lot worse,” Skyler nods toward the window overlooking the lake, making you all turn to see Natalia walking across the deck with Sam briskly following behind her.
“Fuck, I thought they were gonna sleep all day,” Josh says as he and Quinn join the room, the five of you suddenly having to quickly prepare yourselves for the tornado, again.
Not a word is spoken by anyone as she bursts through the door, hands and hair a flying mess as she goes right for the refrigerator. She begins pulling the items that she brought along and stuffing them into a bag, and you notice that the mascara she didn’t wash off last night is strung darkly down her cheeks.
Josh is the first to break the awkward silence. “Good morning, you two. How did everyone sle—“
“Not a wink, Josh. If I’m being honest!” Sam says a bit too sharply.
“Oh,” Josh goes on. “Too much adrenaline to wind down after jumping in the lake?”
“You could call it that,” Sam bites, and you can hear the venom in his voice. Natalia is still working loudly stuffing all her things into a plastic bag, making more noise than she should be.
“You need any help, Natalia?” Quinn asks, and you shoot her a look.
She stands in a huff, brushing her hair from her face before placing her hands on her hips. “No. Nope! I’m good. I’m actually going to do you all a favor and get the hell out of here.”
“What, why? We’ve still got four days…” Josh plays coy.
“Why? Why? Because it's blatantly obvious that I’m not welcome here, by any of you. I tried to be nice, and help make plans and food and everything but… I think I may have overstayed my welcome. I’m leaving.”
“Nat, you were the one that blew up last night, we were all having a perfectly fine evening until you wanted to take things a step too far,” Sam begins to argue. You can feel the energy in the room instantly switch.
Natalia steps toward Sam, who is sitting kicked back nonchalantly at the kitchen table. “A step too far? You’re joking, right? And I didn’t blow up, I was far from blowing up, Sam.”
Sam sits forward in his chair, leaning down on his elbows. “Oh, so you screaming in my face all night and then threatening to drive home drunk and me taking your keys and then you rushing down to the fucking lake to get away from me wasn’t blowing up?”
“No,” she says, crossing her arms. “It could have been way worse.” You wonder how the hell that could even be possible.
“You’re so full of shit, Natalia. You told me meeting me was a mistake. That coming here to spend time with my family was a waste of your time. And not to mention that stunt you pulled with Y/N on the dock…”
Natalia storms forward. “She pushed me in the fucking lake, Sam! I don’t know why you can’t get that through your head!”
“No, she fucking didn’t!” Sam stands and yells even louder, charging toward her.
The rest of you stand dumbfounded, unable to speak or even intervene much out of pure and utter surprise at her ridiculous display. You feel your body stiffening, more and more rage flowing through your veins as she speaks about you like you aren’t even there, standing ten feet from her. Your fists are balled up and tucked into the pocket of your hoodie.
“I was there! I have eyes!” he yells, his hands flying through the air. “You rushed her, pushed past her and fell into the lake. Stop trying to place blame onto her for something that she didn’t fucking do!”
“Oh, so now you’re defending her? Again? Real fucking nice, Sam.”
You can’t help it. You feel the words begin spewing from your mouth.
“What is with this, Natalia? Why are you so pressed by me being here?! Why are you over here trying to make up lies about what happened last night?” you yell in succession, making her turn to you.
“Ha, wow. You are cute. Bringing up lies when that’s all you’ve been doing the whole time we’ve been here…!”
“Nat, just stop,” Sam complains, stepping between the two of you.
“Natalia, what in the hell are you even talking about?” Skyler puts her two cents in, and you can feel the rage beginning to swirl through the air amongst everyone, now.
Josh steps forward, ever the peacemaker to try and simmer everyone down. “Listen, listen, maybe we should all just take a minu—“
Natalia steps forward again, putting the back of her hand on Sam’s chest to brush past him toward you. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not blind, either, Y/N. So I think the best thing for me to do right now is get out of here before I make any more mistakes.”
It’s silent for a beat as she brushes between you again, going to grab her bag of things from the counter. “Sammy, you can stay or you can go. Just know that if you stay, you can count on never hearing from me again. And you can go ahead and lose my fucking number.” She crosses her arms accusingly over her chest, her cheeks reddened with madness as she kicks her foot out to the side, waiting for Sam’s decision.
Everyone looks to Sam, watching as his mouth curves and opens repeatedly, his head obviously arguing with his heart. “Can’t we just talk—“
“No!” she screams, her eyes darting to you. “I’m not talking about it anymore! I see how you look at her, and how you two snuck away at the island and tried to lie about why you left, and how you’re constantly flirting when you think no one is looking. I’m not going to sit here and watch it any more!”
“Are you serious, Natalia?!” you raise your voice, hand gripping at your chest. “You think I’m jealous of you and wan—“
“No sweetie, I know you want him! And I know that you’re jealous that I have him! So you can stop with the performance, because you aren’t fooling anyone.”
You feel your voice catch in the back of your throat. It’s bubbling, and your breath is heavy in your chest. You can feel it rising like bile, daring you to let it all go. “I’m not jealous of you, Natalia.”
She charges forward again, her face flushed and her eyes wild. “Oh really?”
“No, you know why? Because I had Sam first! You think you’re over here telling me that I’m jealous when in all reality, you’re the one having my leftovers!”
Your words hang heavy in the room. Your face, instantly hot with regret. Fuck. Fuck fuck, you just let it fly. You hold your breath, waiting for someone to talk, for someone to move… but nothing happens.
Natalia finally retreats, her eyes blinking through tears. “Leftovers?” she whispers.
“Wait… wait wait…” Josh says from behind you, a sudden stirring of heavy sighs and remarks of mad disbelief coming from your friends.
Your eyes shoot to Sam, who is now plopped back down into the chair, his head in his hands. Shit.
Suddenly, Skyler and Quinn are in your orbit. You can’t see them, you can just feel them and the aura of some type of rage radiating from them. This is about to get bad.
“Y/N,” Skyler says meekly, “are you saying you…”
“Yes. Yes she is, okay? God damnit…” Sam stands, his voice loud but defeated. “You’re right, Natalia, okay? We have a past. We have a long and very serious past. And we—we lied to you about it. To all of you…”
“What the fuck?” Jake mumbles from somewhere in the room.
“You’re joking, right?” Quinn adds. “You? And Sam?”
“I—I…” your mouth tries to move, to connect with your racing mind, but the words escape you. How do you explain this?
“When?” Jake asks, suddenly stepping forward, his eyes downcast and accusatory. Even bigger fuck.
You’re panicking. “Ah, uh… way over a year ago, it… it wasn’t that involved, we were just—“
“Oh, don’t drag it out even further, Y/N,” Sam groans. “It’s all fucking out in the open, now…” Sam pulls his hair through his fingers, squeezing it hard before he takes a breath. “It was serious. It was very serious. We snuck away any chance we got. We kept it from you, because at the time we didn’t want it to be anything more than just sex…”
“Oooh my god…” Skyler shakes her hands and steps away, and you can feel her and Quinn share a look of disgust. Fuck, they hate you.
“You guys were sleeping together,” Jake intervenes again, his voice solid and blank, his eyes distant but focused on you.
You nod, swallowing.
“Hah, see? I told you I wasn’t crazy,” Natalia bites. “You want her just as badly now, too, don’t you Sam?”
Your chest heaves, the feeling of the weight of the world beginning to tumble.
Sam huffs. “Natalia, don’t make me answer that…”
She laughs hard. “Wow… sorry I turned your little family trip into a group therapy session!” She keeps laughing, her voice shrill and grating. “Guess it’d be as good a time as ever to tell you that Josh… sweet Joshy babe… I saw you texting someone who wasn’t Quinn two nights ago on the deck. You really don’t do a good job at hiding your phone, honey. Those were some awfully nice photos you were sending to whoever Jackie is…”
Oh. Fuck.
Everyone’s focus shifts to Josh. “Whoa whoa, now I can explain that…” he chokes.
“Jackie?” Quinn yells. “That girl we met at the bar that night? You got her number?!”
Josh steps forward, his posture suddenly falls. “Quinn, baby, let me explain. It wasn’t—“
“Oh, don’t even try, Josh. God, I knew I should have trusted my gut that night…” Quinn murmurs, her voice chopped. “You sent her photos?!”
Josh stuffs his hands in his pockets, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide. After ten or so seconds of silence, he nods. “I did.”
Quinn steps away, her hands pressed to her brow as she shakes her head, pacing toward the other room. Josh follows after her, her name falling from his lips as he chases after her. You hear Natalia’s laughter growing again, only finding the whole thing to be deviously hilarious, apparently.
“You think this is funny, Natalia?!” Skyler steps in. “Your big mouth just blew up four people’s lives and you’re laughing?!”
“Blew them up?!” Natalia retorts. “Oh honey, I know as well as anybody that this group was a ticking time bomb. All I did was just… light the fuse.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous, Natalia,” Sam complains from the table, his head still in his hands.
“Yeah, well it seems Sam didn’t want you here, anyway, so maybe you should have taken his hint,” Skyler bites back, and you can hear the madness in her voice, now. She has had enough of her.
Natalia bites her lips and steps forward, leaning on the back of the chair Sam’s sitting in toward Skyler. “I don’t think you’re the safe one in this situation, boo…”
Just then Quinn bursts back into the room, a bag in hand and tears streaming down her face. She bolts for the front door, and you share a quick look of concern with Skyler. No no no. Everything is falling apart.
Josh rushes in behind her. “This is all your fucking fault!” His finger is pointed at Sam, charging toward him with his jaw tense.
“Mine?!” Sam sits up.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t have let her come. You shouldn’t have let a stranger tag along to our family trip… now look what she’s done!”
“Don’t point the finger, Josh… you were the one sending risqué photos, not me,” Natalia says, inspecting her nails.
“You don’t know the fucking half of it, Natalia! Now please stop inserting yourself into business that isn’t yours!” Josh yells, standing back up straight for a second before laying into Sam again. “You know better than to not consult with us before doing something stupid like this, Sam! You should have asked if we cared that she stayed, you should have checked with us all first!”
“Don’t yell at him, Josh… Natalia invited herself, remember?” Jake pulls Josh’s finger down from poking at the air in front of Sam’s face.
“Stay the fuck out of this, Jake…” Josh retorts.
Jake grunts, getting louder. “No, don’t come at me sideways… go chase after your girl that just ran crying out the door, you absolute fuck!”
Josh stands again, completely abandoning his beef with Sam.
“Oh, I’m the fuck?! Why don’t you explain to our brother here why you chose to drink after that question in the hot tub the other night? What was it…oh, ‘never have I ever made out with a prom date that wasn’t mine?’ Josh laughs diabolically, his eyes bouncing back and forth between all of you.
Josh, no. No.
“Oh! I forgot! There was more to that… why don’t you explain to him why you drank when the question of ‘never have I ever gotten someone off in public’ came around? It was all the same person, wasn’t it?”
Sam turns in his seat. Your entire body is on fire.
“Jake, what’s he talking about? Who was it at prom? Who did you…”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Jake says. “That was years ago…”
“I mean it kinda matters,” Sam goes on, standing from his chair to approach Jake. “Especially since I’ve never heard those stories before...”
Jake stiffens, his knuckles white on the chair back he’s holding. Fuck.
Sam slowly approaches Jake, his height dwarfing him in the process. “Tell me, Jake. Since we’re all airing it out… who did you hook up with at prom?”
“Me, okay? It was me…” you blurt, your eyes falling to the floor.
Sam slowly turns on his heels to face you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You can’t bring yourself to look at anyone.
“Y/N…” Sam mutters under his breath. “My brother?”
Natalia’s laugh only grows. Seething, bitter, and shrill. “Oh, this is too good.”
Finally, you bring your tear-ridden eyes to look at Sam. You prepare yourself to take the beating that his words will surely bring. But nothing hits you as hard as the look of pure heartbreak on his face. “…My brother?”
“It was ten fucking years ago, guys,” you try to explain. “We were drunk, and young, and stupid… It didn’t mean anything… Sam you were…you were only fifteen then…”
“How many times?” Sam asks, his question directed at you while his eyes stay trained on Jake.
“What?!” you breathe.
“How many fucking times, Y/N?”
“Once, Sam. Once, that’s all… I swear…”
You watch Jake’s expression as his little brother’s face draws closer in to his own, his entire body stiff and seething. You know that Sam is looking for confirmation.
Finally Jake nods, his eyes prickled with guilty tears. “Once.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Skyler’s voice breaks through the moment, shattering your entire world even more. “You don’t think that’s something that a best friend should share? You’re fucking kidding me…”
And then she, too, steps between the group, her shoulder hitting hard into Jake as she does so.
“Sky… please…”
“No,” she turns back around. “You know, no. Both of you, all of you, just fucking…stop. You’ve all been lying, none of you are innocent. Everything is completely fucked. Maybe Natalia was right… maybe she did light the fuse for a good reason.”
The entire room around you seems to crumble as you process what has just unfolded… the lies, the hiding, the scandal… everything is heavy, clouded and muddled. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, as your heart doing its best to keep you standing up straight. You feel like collapsing. You feel like surrendering.
Skyler slams the patio door, the glass of the door and windows shaking the whole room and leaving the silence to reverberate off the walls. Everyone is still.
“Welp!” Natalia claps her hands. “Guess I’ll be on my way…” she gathers up her bags and pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes, looking as though she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Don’t worry, Josh, I’ll check on Quinn on my way out.”
She fishes her keys from the bowl on the table, clicking a button as you hear her Mercedes beep to unlock outside. “Bye, Sam. Good riddance. Oh, and Y/N, guess you can enjoy my leftovers, now. Ta-ta everyone!”
The door slams behind her and the room is still left silent, guilt, sorrow, rage and confusion filling every particle of air and every exhaled breath you take.
No one dares look at one another.
No one dares make the situation worse with anything but the truth.
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You pull your jacket snug against your chest, your camera bag hanging heavy on your shoulder as you make the trek up to the front door of the house. You can hear music coming from the basement already, likely the bands warming up before the show starts. You sneak through the front door, breezing through the mostly empty house in search of the basement. Following the noise, you walk down the stairs and into a small swarm of people all bustling and busy trying to get things set up before the show. How you got roped into shooting a basement show on Valentine's day of all days is beyond you, although it’s not like you have anything better to do.
Your eyes search around for any sign of your friends but you know they’re probably either running late, which is not shocking, or busy unloading their gear outside. You typically never shoot events like this- well, this small, but a favor for your best friend was long overdue. You stand at a small table loading the film into your camera, her one begging request of her set being captured on film, about to be fulfilled. You look around for any other photographers but you see no one, and it’s then that you realize just how small of a gig this really is.
You did your best to blend in tonight, donning the industry standard of black, but realizing now that it almost wouldn’t have mattered what you wore. You kept it simple with a black long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black leather pants, adding a heeled boot to give yourself a little extra height behind the lens.
You grab an extra roll of film and shove it into your pants pocket before placing your camera bag beneath the stage for safe keeping. People are quickly starting to fill the small basement, and you’re thankful for this weeks’ cold snap, knowing that this basement would be sweltering otherwise. You pull your phone from your pocket checking for any signs of life from your friends, laughing as you see a ‘we’re running late’ text. Shaking your head you put your phone back in your pocket and start to check your settings, adjusting to the lowlight of the room.
The basement is fully packed at this point, the first band stepping on to the stage and starting things off with a blaring guitar intro. The lights dim even further, causing you to adjust your settings again, and you wonder if you need to grab your flash attachment. You feel a tap on your shoulder, a rush of nerves in your chest as you spin around to see who it could be.
“Are you shooting film?” A pair of dark brown eyes asks, a look of genuine curiosity painted across the irises.
You smile and hold up your camera, “Yeah, I am! How did you know?”
A smile sweeps across his face, his long dark hair hanging well past his shoulders, but partially obscured under a red beanie. His cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold outside, the alcohol in his system, or the weight of his cable knit sweater. “I’m a bit of a hobbyist. Specifically film. I recognized your camera.”
“You did? This thing is pretty old.” you say, pulling your hair from beneath your camera strap.
“Yeah, I have the same one. Mines the silver version though.” he says, leaning in closely so that you can hear him over the loud music.
You look up at him, and nod, leaning back in towards him as you respond. “Oh really? Does yours have the battery door issue?”
His hand lays softly against your shoulder as he leans in closer, ready to respond but your attention is ripped away as you see your friends in your peripheral.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, my friends just walked in and they are actually supposed to go on next.” you say holding up your camera to show your purpose of being here in the first place.
“You’re fine, go ahead.” he smiles, pulling away from you and taking a sip from his seltzer.
You send him a soft smile, taking a final look at him before turning to meet your friends. As you walk up to meet them you can’t help but to look over to where you were just standing, finding the mystery man gone. You scan the room as your friends talk at you, looking for any sight of him, but you’re snapped back to the present as they are called up to the stage.
With a hug from your best friend and a kiss on the cheek she darts up the small stairs with a smile. “Wish us luck! And make sure you get my good side!”
You make your way towards the front of the stage, checking your settings one more time as the band starts to play. Admittedly, they sound a lot better than they did the last time you saw them perform, and the crowd behind you really seems to be into them. You even notice a few people wearing their merch and wonder when that happened. Had you really been that absent?
You duck down as you work your way across the front of the stage, snapping photos of your friends as they play their hearts out. You quietly apologize to the people you block with your camera, taking a quick glance behind you with each step you take. About two songs into their set you’ve made your way to the opposite side of the stage, looking behind you only to catch a glance of your mystery guy, standing against the wall with his drink.
You try to pretend you didn’t see him, but it’s no use as you trip over an electrical cord and make a complete spectacle of yourself in the process. However, when you don't collide with the concrete of the basement floor and instead are met with a pair of warm steady hands, you feel a sigh of relief hoping that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see you trip after all. Turning to face your hero, you’re met with none other than your hobbyist.
A grin spreads across his face as he helps you to stand, one hand in his, and the other firmly planted on your camera.
“Falling for me so soon? At least tell me your name first…” he jokes, letting go of you as you steady yourself on your feet.
“Y/N…And thanks, I– guess they ran out of Gaff tape and I found the only cord not taped down.” you laugh.
He smiles and shakes his head in faux disgust, “Rule number one, always carry an extra roll in your gig box for the ladies. I’m Sam, by the way.”
“Well, Sam, thank you for not letting me fall in front of all of these people.” you laugh.
“Oh, I was actually saving the camera… Precious vintage...” he winks, pursing his lips together.
“Oh, of course. Yeah.” you stammer, suddenly feeling ridiculous.
As if he can sense your distress he places a hand on your arm, “Wait no, I was kidding. Of course I was saving you. Let me– Can I get you a drink?” he asks, trying for a peace offering.
“I think I’m kinda out of hands…” you laugh, snapping a photo as you focus through the viewfinder.
“I’m not…” he counters, “Whad’ya want? I’ll grab it for you…”
You lick over your lips, deciding maybe a drink assistant wouldn’t be too bad. You turn over your shoulder as he leans close letting you talk into his ear. “A seltzer, I don’t care what flavor, surprise me.”
He gives you an understanding nod and turns on his heels, disappearing into the crowd.
You watch your friends start to close up their set and you compose another set of photos you think will be the shots of the night.
“A drink for the lady…” he says, as he holds a drink up in front of the lens. You lower your camera and spin around to grab it from him, watching him crack the lid open before he hands it to you.
“Prickly pear, huh…” you pause, taking a sip of the fizzy drink. “Did you know that was my favorite or just a lucky guess?”
“Well, I figured… you have great taste in cameras…” he trails off, taking the drink back from you so you can continue to shoot.
You feel him lean into your shoulder, his warm breath on your neck. “The red light really does nothing for photos, does it…” he laughs.
“No, and I’m half convinced that’s why they do it.” you retort.
“Oh, it definitely is. Trust me. That and it looks badass.” he laughs, stepping back again.
As the set ends you watch your friends leave the stage, ready to drink and party with the rest of you. The room quiets to a dull roar as the next band starts to take the stage, ready to set up their equipment. You lower your camera around your neck, letting it hang freely as you turn back to Sam.
“You get the shot?” he asks, sipping the same Prickly Pear Topo Chico.
“I think so, looks like I’ve got…” you pause, checking your dial. “Two left on this roll. Should probably change over before the next act. Here, smile.” you say, holding the viewfinder to your eye.
He blushes a little, holding both of the drinks in his hands and giving you wide open mouth smile.
You capture those last two images and hear the winder start to spin. “That’ll do it!” you say, dropping your camera around your neck and pulling the extra black film cartridge from your pocket.
“Oh here, let me help you. You have your drink…” he offers, holding out your can.
“No! You don’t have to do that, it’s totally fine, I’ve got it. Just need to find a table or something so I can–”
“I know I don’t have to, I just– want to. I wanna help.” he says, his eyes sweet and genuine.
You think about it for a second, and consider that you really don’t have anything to lose. He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t know what he was doing.
“Okay, sure, I’ll hold your drink now.” you smile.
His eyes are focused as he works to remove the used film, replacing it with the new roll as quickly and efficiently as he can, making sure not to expose the roll. He clips the door shut and makes sure it's secure before placing the camera strap back over your head, pulling your hair out from beneath the straps as gently as possible.
“There. Perfect.” he says, a warm smile on his lips.
“Thanks Sam.” you answer, offering his drink back to him.
“You can call me Sammy. All my friends do.” he says, accepting the wet can.
“Oh, are we friends now?” you ask playfully, all the while thinking that you might want to be a little more than that.
“I’d like to think so. Or– I hope so. I think you’re cute, film camera girl.”
“Do you?” you murmur, holding the can to your lips.
As if feeling a little shy, he ducks his head a little and licks his lips, “I do.”
Before you can reciprocate his sentiment the third band starts, and somehow they are even louder than your friend's band previously. The drums are blaring loud and you can tell they need their mics turned down about three notches. You take a few photos, figuring you can never have too much in your portfolio, but after a few shots and the crowd becoming a little too rowdy, you quickly decide you are done ‘working’ for the night. You lower your camera down and spin to talk to Sam, but you find he’s gone.
Your eyes scan the crowd for him, but again, you see no trace of the cream colored sweater or his red beanie in the sea of people. You do, however, spot your best friend off in the corner of the room being hit on by someone you know to be exactly her type. You lock eyes with her, raising a brow and she just smiles at you as she continues to talk to the tall dark haired man.
Letting her have her time with him, you make your way back to the stage to grab your camera bag. You head up the stairs, grabbing a new drink from the bar area and again searching for any signs of him. You mingle with a few strangers, making pointless small talk about work and the latest gossip before excusing yourself to the bathroom to pee. As you wash your hands you sigh at the missed connection with such a thoughtful and good looking guy, but chalk it up to being Valentine’s Day and not wanting to fall into that stereotype.
With your new friend gone, you decide to seek out some of your old ones. With your gear bag slung over your shoulder, you head towards the thick crowd in the main living room. As you make your way through, your neck cranes around the bodies in your way, searching for a familiar face. Looking out the back window, you see your friends near their band’s van. You push open the squeaky screen door and are greeted with a harsh gust of freezing cold wind. You retract, and before you can regain your senses, you hear someone calling your name from a little ways away.
When you get your eyes open, Sam is standing against the side of the house, exhaling a puff of smoke. He’s giving you a sweet, closed lipped smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. You feel a few butterflies in your stomach as you take in his sweet face, relieved that he’s happy to see you hasn’t disappeared like you thought. You approach him with a sweet smile, holding on to your bag strap with both hands while your main camera hangs around your neck.
“It’s cold as fuck out here.” You say honestly, suppressing a grin. He nods, taking another inhale off the cigarette between his fingers, his smile making it a little difficult. “I thought you left.” you add while he exhales the smoke away from your face.
“What, without you?” He says with a quirked brow and a playful smolder. You laugh, stunned silent by his charisma. He realizes and laughs it off, reaching towards you. “You need a hand taking that stuff to your car?” He asks, dropping his cigarette onto the lawn and stepping on it. He offers you a hand and you willingly offer up your bag, even though you really don’t need to.
“I didn’t really feel the need to get any more photos of the third band. I didn’t think the headache was worth it.” You say, a little tongue in cheek as you walk. Sam laughs loudly once, like it slipped out, then shakes his head looking at the ground in front of him.
“I was trying not to be too judgmental but, yeesh. They’re really something, aren’t they?” You laugh and pop open your trunk and he sees inside as he puts your bag in.
“You have a Pentax too?” He asks, seeing the other bag you left in the trunk.
“I do. I have a couple lenses for it, I use it when I shoot… bigger stuff.” You say, not trying to sound braggy.
“That sucker is heavy though. You must be jacked if you’re holding it up for an entire show.” He jokes, reaching for your bicep and squeezing twice. You flex a little, giving him a wink before you break character and laugh with him. You pull your camera from around your neck and slip it into its case.
“No but, I uh, I have a couple lenses too. I have a pretty big collection… It’s actually getting a bit out of hand at this point. If you ever want to borrow anything...” He mentons, helping you close the trunk. When he reaches up, his sweater rides up a bit and reveals that he’s got a white shoestring laced through the loops of his pants like a belt.
“I’d love to check it out,” you say honestly, rubbing your arms to try and warm up. The wind is brutal but the conversation is worth freezing for.
“This may be a bit forward… but the weather sucks, this music sucks… We could go have a drink at my place and I could show you?” He offers, shrugging a little bit.
“Well…” you start, looking over at the van on the other side of the yard. Your friend seems to be deep in conversation with the guy who was helping her load up, so you’re sure she won’t miss you if you slip away. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”
“Two things, though. One, we have to take your car, since my friend was my ride. Two, I’m driving, because you’ve had a few.” He says, giving you a boyish smile and holding out his hands so you can put the keys in them. You eye him with playful suspicion for a moment, but then figure you’ve got nothing to lose.
“Fine.” You flick open your car key and offer it to him between two fingers with a grin.
As he gets in, you can’t help but micromanage his actions with your car as you buckle your seatbelt. “The emergency brake is down by your left foot, and just ignore the light on the dash.”
“I guess I should have told you that I have, indeed, driven a car before. I’m qualified.” He says, starting it and adjusting the mirrors. He’s a good bit taller than you, so he cranks the rearview upwards quite a bit. You roll your eyes at his comment, letting the radio play quietly rather than anything from your phone for fear of judgment.
“There aren’t any street lights on these back roads. You should put the high beams on.” You comment, looking over at him for a moment, taking in his side profile. He cracks a wry smirk and flourishes his hand, turning them on.
“You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?” He asks, not looking away from the road. You snicker softly.
“When I want to be.”
Before he can say anything in response, his phone starts to buzz in the center console. He reaches for it, swiping quickly across the screen to answer the call from a contact named Danny.
“Daniel!” He shouts, putting the phone on speaker. Without hesitation, you take it from him so he can use both of his hands and drive. He doesn’t object as the voice from the other end of the phone pipes up.
“Where’d you get off to?”
“Uh, I left. Are you good to get home?” Sam answers, flipping the brights off when a car drives by on the opposite side of the road. He puts them back on once the coast is clear.
“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?”
You huff a laugh and look over to Sam shaking your head. Is this really how guys talk on the phone?
“Daniel, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell…” he jokes, sending you a wink.
“Right, are you going to that event tomorrow?”
“I had forgotten about it until this very second, but yeah. I said I would. Are you?” Sam says, and you pick up a bit of an accent. There’s a long A in forgotten where the second O should go. You smile softly as you watch the road and listen to them talk.
“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Daniel says, and you can hear him getting into his car on the other end of the line.
“Fuck. Alright, get home safe.” Sam says, sighing. They end the call and you’re more than tempted to ask him the meaning of all that, but he’s pulling into his driveway and the nerves start to take over, shutting you up. “Sorry about that,” he says, parking your car in his driveway next to his own.
“Do you live by yourself?” You ask, getting out of the passenger seat. The wind is still strong and it chills you to the bone. Sam sees and picks up his pace as he leads you to the front door.
“Yeah, it’s just me.” he says, looking over his shoulder as he puts his key in the door. It’s warmly lit inside his house once he steps inside and flips on the lights. There’s an array of musical instruments scattered about as soon as you enter, amps and drums and guitars either hanging on the wall or resting against each other. You raise your brows, looking over at him.
“You’re a musician, too?” You ask as he puts your keys on the cabinet near the front door. There are sliding doors across the front that are opened just slightly to reveal a substantial vinyl collection.
“I have many hobbies.”
You smile as you follow him through the house, looking around at the art covering his walls. It smells like incense and it’s warm- a little warmer than you would keep your house, but it’s cozy.
“I keep everything in here,” he starts, flipping on the lightswitch in one of the bedrooms. It’s furnished with a daybed, like a guest bedroom, but the opposite wall has a desk and shelving full of cameras, cases, lenses, accessories, attachments galore. You raise your brows, surprised, but mostly impressed.
It’s a solid half hour that you spend going item by item, gently looking over everything he’s collected, from vintage to like-new, functioning and under repair. He makes a point to tell you where he got each one, the quirks and intricacies of them all.
“That one’s really my favorite for portraits,” he says as you look over a lightweight film camera with a noisy lens, clicks filling the room. “She’s got a way about her that makes everyone look good, you know?” You nod, looking it over, peeking through the viewfinder.
“I dunno, I might be a lost cause.” You say, a little self deprecating. He sucks his teeth at you in playful disappointment.
“I just mean that, you know, as photographers, there aren’t many photos of us. I don’t think I’d know how to pose myself for a portrait.”
“Well, you don’t pose yourself, silly.” He says, looking up at you, not lifting his head and moving only his eyes. There’s a little smirk on his lips. “We should try it.”
You give him a suspicious look, laughing nervously.
“I look like a mess from the wind and… I’m hardly wearing any makeup..” You say, starting to rattle off excuses as your cheeks heat up.
“So? You look perfect. I don’t want to take… fuckin’ headshots. I want to capture you. This version of you, the pretty photographer that I’ve spent my evening with.”
The two of you lock eyes for a moment, his honeyed irises so warm and kind and sweet that you probably can’t say no to him if your life depended on it.
“Okay.”
That’s how you end up in his sunroom, sitting patiently on his couch as he gets set up, sipping a glass of wine. The room is full of plants and you brush your hand against the burnt orange velvet upholstery of his couch underneath you. You watch him move around the room, pushing the ottoman out of the way, adjusting the throw pillows on the opposite end. He reaches behind his head and pulls his thick sweater off, his shirt riding up to show that little shoestring belt and this time, a light dusting of hair above the waistband of his pants. He tosses aside the sweater, leaving him in a white t-shirt. You swallow a gulp of your wine, feeling a little warm.
“I like how you said, ‘as photographers,’ like you looped me in there with you,” he muses. “You’re a professional. I don’t belong in the ranks with you.” He says, grinning as he uses an app on his phone to mess with the lighting from the lamp in the room. It’s a hazy, warm light when he’s done, absolutely flattering to the eye, so you can only imagine how it’s going to look when he captures you.
“If you take pictures, and you enjoy it, you’re a photographer. I don’t think it’s fair to gate keep art of any kind, or… something that brings people joy, you know?” You say, watching as he grabs a cream colored, cable knit throw reminiscent of his sweater and drapes it behind you.
“That makes sense. Not all photographers are as humble as you, though.” He says, looking down at the camera and making some adjustments. He holds it up and looks at you, then he pulls it away. He looks again, then he hums like he’s thinking about something.
“This black shirt is kind of one-dimensional. I feel like it’s swallowing you up, you know? I feel like there's too much contrast with the colors in the room.”
You sip your wine and think for a moment, looking around. He’s probably right.
“What do you think about green?” you ask, leaning forward, placing the wine glass on the table in front of you.
“Do you have another– oh…” he starts, but is effectively silenced when you start to pull your shirt over your head. Underneath, you’re in a sage green longline bralette, the band of lace under your chest covering a good two inches of your waist. It’s not too revealing and from the shoulders up, it probably looks like a shirt. You shake out your hair and look up at him, tossing your shirt aside.
“Does that look better?” You ask, smirking at his reaction, pretending to be all business. He looks at you through the viewfinder and you hear him clear his throat.
“Much better. Yep. Uh huh.” he says, hiding his face behind the camera, but you know he’s looking at you. “Sit up for me?”
You adjust the way you’re sitting, sitting up straighter. He lets the camera hang around his neck as he approaches you, reaching out to gently position you. He puts your hand in your lap, then gently pushes some hair behind your shoulder. The other side, he wraps around his finger once, making sure it lays in a flattering way. He looks at you, not scrutinizing you, but deciding what he wants to do with you. His touch makes you feel like you’re on fire, his hands warm and so gentle, his motions purposeful and confident despite the delicate way he handles you.
He crouches down in front of you, holding the camera to his eye, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. You suddenly feel exposed in front of the lens, and it must be evident on your face as he moves his finger from the shutter release and lowers the camera from his eye. “You feel nervous.” he states with the nod of his head.
You shrug ever so slightly, finally feeling the nerves your clients tend to feel. You try to shake it off, but Sam, ever perceptive, pulls the camera from around his neck and sits it next to you on the couch. He pulls his own shirt over his head, leaving him in the same state of undress as you are. “There. Even?” he asks with a cheeky smile.
You smile and nod, doing your best not to stare at the small smattering of a happy trail at the top of his pants. You bite your lips together before looking back into the lens, hearing the shutter click and the film wind. He brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face to the side with the gentle touch of his index finger. He pulls it back quickly, returning to the shutter button and snapping another photo. He hums from his place behind the lens, standing quickly and scanning the room for something.
His heavy footfall pads across the room, snatching something from his piano bench before returning to his place on the floor in front of you. In his hands is a multicolored jewel tone pashmina, soft and worn, and clearly a staple in his wardrobe.
“Can we try this?” he asks, holding it up against your skin.
“Let me see…” you answer, grabbing it and draping it over your chest. With your torso completely covered you reach beneath it, pulling the green bralette over your head as he watches you with wide eyes. You toss it to the floor next to him, and reposition the fabric to just cover your chest as you lean back into the couch.
He swallows nervously as he stretches up towards the couch, adjusting the fabric how he sees fit. Your stomach shows beneath the edge of colorful fabric, the curve of your breast just peeking from the top.
“I– I think this is gonna be a good shot.” he says, looking at you through the lens. “Lean your head back a little more, and turn it to the side, just a touch.”
You follow his instruction, knowing the angles of this shot have to be incredible from his place on the floor.
“Perfect, I just…Didn’t want any shadows on your throat…” he whispers from behind the camera. You hear the shutter click, and a murmur of ‘fuck’ leave his lips.
You stay where you are as he lowers the camera, his breathing picking up a little bit as he tries to remain calm. “Your skin is so…pretty…” he breathes, letting his eyes sweep over you.
Your eyes connect with his, and in an act of insanity you pull away the pashmina, letting it pool at your side. His eyes can’t help but to flick down to your chest, his jaw dropping slightly before he notices and looks back up at your eyes.
“We don’t have to–”
“Do you not want to?” you ask, settling back onto the couch.
“No, I very much do.” he answers a little too quickly.
“So go ahead. Capture me.”
He takes a deep breath, holding the camera to his eye and lowering it back down. He grabs your hand and places it gingerly over your chest, letting your fingers rest just over your nipple. He brings the camera back to his eye, and takes the photo. “Fuck you’re gorgeous.”
Your cheeks blush and you hear the shutter click again.
“Sorry, but I think that's the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.” he says.
You smile and shake your head, letting your hand trail to the button of your pants. You slide the button through the loop and pull the long zipper, until just the smallest glimpse of your thong is visible.
You watch him swallow nervously again, focusing the camera on your hand as it lays across your stomach. As he captures the photo, you watch him try to recenter himself, knowing that he is probably just as turned on by this as you are, if not more.
“Take them off…” you suggest, watching his eyes flick up to yours.
“You sure?” he asks again, making sure you’re still comfortable.
“Very. If you are, I mean.”
“Lay across the couch. On your stomach.” he instructs, moving himself to sit on the edge of the chaise to your left. You position yourself against the plush couch, propping yourself up on your elbows, as you look back at him sitting behind you.
“Yeah, just like that. Stay there. Look at me, beautiful.” he says, growing more confident.
He leans forward, swiping your hair over your shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of the curve of your back. And just as your eyes connect with the lens, he presses the button.
“Perfect.” he breathes, lowering the camera again. He stands from his place behind you, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, pulling them gently down your hips until they rest at the apex of your ass. Your thong is fully visible now, only the floral lace resting against your hips.
He moves back and you feel the couch dip as he kneels behind you, straightening the seam of the pants to rest perfectly in the center, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. You feel the goosebumps rise, and you hear the shutter, smiling as you know he’s caught the moment.
“Are you always this responsive to touch…” he asks, sliding your pants further down over your ass, pulling each leg free until the leather fabric is in a pile on the floor.
“No. Only when it’s really good…” you answer.
“Lift your hips up for me, rest on your knees a little, and arch your back.” he says, kneeling on the edge of the couch. His hand slides down your back to assist you, and slides back up, stopping at the hem of your panties. Two fingers hook into the fabric, pulling it down just slightly as you hear the camera shutter.
You can feel your arousal between your legs, not too far from where his fingers linger, but he releases your panties, sliding them back into place and letting his hand drift over the curve of your ass. He stands up in front of you, and you drop back down, stretching fully across the couch. You lay your head on your hands as you look up at him, watching him crouch down in front of you. He pulls a few pieces of hair over your shoulder, and moves your arm further up to reveal the swell of your breast as it presses against his couch cushion.
“Pop your hips up just a touch...” he breathes, holding the camera to his eye. “Look at me, baby.”
You bat your eyes as you look at him, seeing the photo in the reflection of the lens as he takes it.
His chest is heaving as he pulls the camera away, crawling towards you on his knees as he dusts his fingers over your spine. “You make an incredible muse…”
“A good photographer knows that seeing isn’t enough. You have to feel it.” you answer, melting into the feeling of his skin on yours.
“I think I feel it too much…”
He slides his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to a sitting position. He reaches for your wine glass, turning back to you and placing it into your hand. You bring it to your lips, but as you tip the glass a stream of red wine trickles down the stem, dripping rapidly onto your stomach.
His eyes flick to yours, then down to the small streak of red against your skin, leaning his head forward and letting his warm tongue lap at the spilled alcohol.
Your eyes close on their own, a breath leaving your lips at the feeling of his lips on your body. He pulls back from you, waiting for your eyes to open, and as they meet you can see he’s asking for permission to continue.
You open your legs allowing him to move closer, and he takes that as his consent to move between them. He pulls the camera from around his neck, placing it gently on the couch next to you, before grabbing your wine glass and placing it on the coffee table behind him.
His hands slide up your thighs, his eyes examining every inch of your skin until he meets the edge of your panties. His eyes meet yours and you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on your skin again.
He hooks his fingers through the fabric and pulls them over your hips, tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He takes in a deep breath, lowering his face to your heat, but never breaking the eye contact he has with you. You let a hand slide through his silky waves, silently telling him you wanted this, and he obliges, pressing a kiss to your groin.
You feel his tongue swipe up through your center, long and slow, hot and soft against you. You fist his hair at the contact, a hum leaving his lips as they vibrate against your clit. Your legs open wider, allowing him to hook his arms beneath your legs, pulling you down the couch to meet his mouth. His tongue works at your clit, flicking back and forth as wet sounds fill the air in the room. His cheeks are flushed as his wet lips suction around you, his brown eyes fluttering closed with every pointed lick.
You can hardly tear your gaze away from him, your chest heaving as he brings you closer and closer to your release. Your hand reaches out to grip into the cushion, instead landing on the body of the camera next to you. It feels cold against your hand, and as you look at him you realize you might feel it a little too much, too.
Grasping it in your hand you pull the viewfinder to your eye, positioning him in the frame as he continues to work you towards your orgasm. As his eyes flick up to you, he's met with the camera lens, hesitating momentarily before pulling an elastic from his wrist. He doesn’t cease his actions as he pulls his hair into a messy bun, resting low on the back of his neck. He places his soft hands on the insides of your thighs, looking up into the lens with his blissed out eyes, ready for you to capture the scene below you.
Hearing the shutter, he grips into you harder, sucking your clit into his mouth with more force, desperate to get you there. His fingers brush your entrance, and with a carefully timed swipe of his tongue he presses them forward until his thumb replaces his tongue applying pressure to your clit. His fingers work inside of you until your legs start to shake with desperation. He replaces his thumb with his lips once more, the warm, wet sensation inching you closer and closer.
You take a few more shots, hoping to capture the way his dark lashes kiss his cheeks, and the way his nose brushes against you so delicately. Knowing the most vulnerable shots are usually the best.
He ruts his hips into the couch, desperate for some relief and the groan that leaves his chest is all it takes to push you to the edge. You drop the camera to your side, pulling his face to your body as your orgasm rocks through you. A pathetic sounding whine leaves your lips as his mouth slows, he pulls his fingers from you as gently as possible.
You’re left a panting mess as you ride the waves of your high, but as you open your eyes and see him licking his fingers, you reach for the camera once more, capturing the act forever on film.
He stands, offering you his hand with a smirk. You can’t help but to notice that his fingers are still pruny and soft as you place your hand in his, letting him pull your shaky body from his couch. He bends over and snatches the camera from the couch cushion before pulling you down the hallway towards his bedroom.
As you step over the threshold into his bedroom, you’re met with the dark walls and rich earth toned bedding. He drops your hand, and checks his film, before setting the camera on the edge of his bed. He grabs your hand again, and pulls you into him, snaking his other hand around your waist and pulling you close to his body. His eyes search yours before his lips crash to yours, a heady mix of cigarettes, red wine, and you.
Your tongue tangles with his as his hands grip into your hips, his hardness pressing against your bare stomach. You pull away, locking your eyes on his as you fall to your knees in front of him. You slide your hands up his thighs until you reach the thin white shoelace at his waist, pulling the tip until it unknots itself and slides to the floor. You feel him reach for the camera, letting it hang around his neck once more as he watches you.
You unbutton his pants, feeling the brush of his length against your hand. You work quickly to pull the pants and boxers to the floor, letting him step out of them as you take in the sight of him bare in front of you. You lean forward to kiss at the smattering of hair at his happy trail but you’re quickly stopped before your lips ever make it there.
He grabs your chin in his hand, placing his thumb over your swollen pink lips, pulling the plump flesh down to expose your bottom teeth as the camera snaps the image above you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can think of nothing but the feeling of your mouth around him.
Unable to wait any longer you grab him in your fist, stroking him a few times back and forth as his eyes study your movements. You wet your lips in preparation for him, letting your tongue dart out to lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock.
He pulls the camera to his eye again, “Stay like that. Just like that baby. Look up at me.”
He rests the tip of his cock in your open mouth, snapping a few shots as he leaks onto your tongue, before tossing the camera to the bed. “Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before? You look so fucking gorgeous.”
You smile around him, closing your lips and humming in response. You let your tongue slide up his length, taking him as far back as you can the first few times before working into a steady rhythm. Your eyes are locked on his, a look of awe and desperation written into his features.
His hand finds grip in your hair, moving with you as you work him, gentle whines falling from his lips as you swirl over his tip with each upward stroke.
Swallowing around him he sucks in a harsh breath, letting you slide back up before repeating the action. You tense around him as you gag, your eyes blinking away tears wanting to continue. Your eyes roll back as you taste the saltiness on your tongue knowing he is nearing his release.
He pulls away from you, cupping your face in his big warm hands, his thumbs swiping away errant tears.
“I– You’re– Get on the bed for me, sweetness. Wanna ruin that pretty cunt before I cum.”
You look up at him, swallowing thickly, a little shocked by the side of himself he just showed you. You take his hand with a grin as he offers it to you, standing and hopping up onto his bed, laying yourself back on his pillows. He follows you, leaning over to reach for the camera on the nightstand before doing so. He leaves it on the pillow next to your head, focusing all of his attention on you for the time being.
He’s tender for a moment, leaning down to kiss you briefly before he situates himself between your thighs. He kneels above you, looking down at the sight before him. He traces a gentle line down your sternum, then back up, dragging lightly against the expanse of your clavicle, then back down once more. His eyes seem to roam over every inch of you while you wait patiently for things to advance.
“You…” he starts, a breathy laugh leaving his throat, like he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “So gorgeous.”
“You’re sweet.” you respond, parting your thighs a bit more for him. He hasn’t stopped his feather light touches just yet though.
“Is that how you like it?” he asks, catching you a little off guard. Your eyes flick up to his and you can’t help the way you squirm a little at his directness.
“I…” you start, but he promptly silences you with a pinch to your nipple, pulling a wanton moan from the depths of your chest.
“Ahh. There she is.” He says, smiling. He lets go and leans down to give it a kiss. “Just trying to get a read on you.”
He palms your breast as he pushes back up, unable to take his eyes off of you. You watch the wheels turning in his head as he squeezes firmly, his eyes cutting to the camera next to your head.
He picks it back up, adjusting it with lightning speed. He looks through the viewfinder once before reaching for your tit again, your nipple slipping between his long fingers. He snaps a photo, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration while the aperture adjusts, the settings on auto now to save time.
“That artistic part of your brain just doesn’t turn off, huh?” you ask, reaching up to run a hand down his stomach, your patience running out.
“Blessing and a curse.” he mumbles, reaching forward into his nightstand. As he’s leaning over you, you can’t help but take a moment to place a few wet, searing kisses to his jaw and throat. You know they’re appreciated when he bucks his hips against you, his dick dragging against the inside of your thigh.
He sits back up, tearing the foil of the condom with little difficulty and flipping it over once or twice to check which way is right. He eventually distinguishes top from bottom and starts to slide it on, looking down in concentration.
After he’s done, he leans down towards you, placing hungry, wet kisses wherever he can find purchase. He reaches between your bodies, taking himself in his palm and brushing the head of his cock through your folds.
“Wait…” you say, and he rests his head on your chest for a moment, looking up at you with patient eyes.
“Yes, sweetness?” he says, pulling back, unsure if you’re about to call the whole thing off. You take a deep breath, reaching down to touch him gently.
“Can we take this off?” You murmur, your hand waiting to pull it off the moment he gives you the green light.
“God, yeah,” he says enthusiastically, a little chuckle leaving him as you haphazardly pull the condom off of him and toss it by the wayside. “Absolutely. Fuck. I want to…” He trails off, like he’s about to say something else, but once you slip the tip of him inside of you, he can’t get a word out.
He pushes in about halfway, stopping to settle and watch your reaction. You gaze up at him, reaching up to play with one of your nipples. He takes in a sharp breath at the sight before pulling out a little before he pushes all the way in, slowly.
“Oh… oh my god,” you manage to get out, unable to help the way the words scratch their way out of your throat. Sam’s eyes are glued to your center, watching himself enter you.
“Everything about you…” he says, taking a trembling breath, “...is fucking picture perfect.”
You smile at the compliment and watch his face for a moment, the way his dark lashes move quickly with his blinking eyes trying to process everything at once. He starts to move slowly, the drag of him making your breath hitch.
He fucks into you slowly, deeply, your head swimming at the sensation. It’s good, but it’s not quite enough, and you can’t help but speak up.
“Sammy…” you begin, calling him by his nickname, like he asked, affectionately. “Harder. Please.”
He snaps his hips into you in response, giving you a dirty smirk from above.
“You’re a backseat driver in the sack, too?” he quips, moving back on his heels a little to change the angle and give himself more range of motion.
“Shut up and fuck me. How’s that?” you bite, grinning up at him. Before you can even prepare yourself, he snatches your wrists, pinning them above your head in just one of his big hands, your slender wrists slotted between his lengthy fingers.
He looks like he’s about to snap back at you, but then his eyes narrow a little. He reaches for the camera again, holding it against the side of his body to flip the switch and open the aperture. He lifts it to his eye and snaps a picture of his hand pinning your wrists together, the strap of the camera falling a little bit into the frame.
Once he’s done, he drops the camera again and braces himself with his free hand, picking up an almost brutal pace. You can’t complain, because it’s what you asked for, and god did he deliver. The sound of skin on skin, his body meeting yours, rhythmically bounces off the walls of his bedroom. You cry out at the feeling of him, reeling at the sensation of him so deep inside you. Warmth starts to build in your stomach, your head getting dizzy.
“Are you getting close?” he asks in your ear, slightly breathless. You whine in the affirmative, spreading your legs further as if you need him even deeper. He lets go of your hands, sitting up a little straighter but still thrusting into you hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your eyes start to flutter closed, your back arching, and you feel his hips stutter slightly as he moves a bit on top of you.
There’s some clicking and you know what he’s about to do, but you can’t be bothered to change a single thing about what you’re doing. You reach for your chest, holding your tits steady as he pushes you towards the edge, waiting for the moment.
“Gonna cum…” you warn, your brows knitting together.
“Come on, beautiful. I’m ready.” he coos as it hits you, your lips parting, your head tilting back as you gasp for breath. You don’t register when the shutter sounds, but you feel the camera hit the pillow again and Sam’s got both of his hands on your waist, so you know he must have gotten the shot.
He slows his pace, allowing you to catch your breath and come back down to earth. His hand slides up to your throat, running his thumb over your lips in the same manner he did earlier, but this time instead of letting him tug at your lip you suck his thumb into your mouth.
“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, pulling his hand back and slowly pulling out of you. “Turn over for me.”
You blink up at him, a little bashful, your eyes darting to the camera, then back to his. You try to suppress a grin and give him a little shake of your head.
“Do you trust me?”
Feeling a little giddy, you roll over, pulling your hair over your shoulder before propping yourself up on your knees. You keep your face in his pillow, your eyes watching the camera laying near you as he presses inside you, the position allowing him somehow deeper.
His hands find your hips and as he starts to move, the grip tightens, pulling little hiss from between your teeth. You’re glad he doesn’t hear because you’d hate it if he stopped.
“Gotta be careful…” he mumbles, his voice strained. “Feels a little too good.”
You hum, a little laugh leaving you. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and definitely different from anyone you’ve ever slept with. His playfulness mixed with the dominance that peeks out on occasion is a potent combination you can’t seem to get enough of.
He uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into him, his pace slower, but the feeling of him nudging at your cervix with every stroke makes up for the change in speed. He rubs a hand over the curve of your ass as he slows down and releases his grip.
“Goddamn, that’s beautiful.”
The camera disappears and you push up on your forearms, suddenly shy and nervous and feeling like a shot of that isn’t quite as artistic as the rest of your photos. You look at him over your shoulder, a little suspicious.
“No, no no. Your back, your hair on the pillow,” he reassures you, a warm hand on your back. You giggle a little, laying back down. He splays your hair across the pillow, then taps your arm. “Move this up under you.” You do as he says, one arm and hand under you, the other hand above you, fisted in the sheets. His hand drags slowly up your back before he speaks again. “Arch a little more. Like you were before. Yeah, perfect.”
Click.
It lands on the bed, then he starts to move again. He groans, a bit louder than he has been, and you know he’s hanging on by a thread.
“Are you… Are you on birth control?” He asks, his voice slightly boyish in this moment. You can’t help but laugh softly.
“What, you don’t want to knock me up on Valentine’s day?” you joke, and he freezes. You wonder if you said the wrong thing for a moment, but then he speaks softly.
“I’m confident you won’t like my answer, sweetness.”
It takes you a moment to understand what he means, and when you do, you can’t stop the words that fall from your lips.
“Try me.”
He pushes himself deeper into you, so much so he leans over and braces himself on his palm next to your face. He’s closer now when he speaks, his breath hot on your shoulder.
“I’d love nothing more than to knock you up on Valentine’s day.”
Holy shit.
“So no plans in November, then?” you quip, grinning as the weight of him pushes you into his pillow.
“Mm, nothing too big, just a world tour.” he responds, thrusting a few more times. “Super flexible.” he grits out. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, feeling him start to twitch inside you.
“The answer is yes, by the way. About the birth control.”
“....It’d be cooler if you weren’t, but alright.” he jokes, his voice straining as his hips start to falter. You can hear him breathing through clenched teeth as his grip on you tightens. You tighten around him, arching your back just a touch more and as you drop your head between your arms, you see his hand frantically reaching for the camera one last time.
You can feel the tension in your stomach tightening, his hand sliding up to your shoulder to pull you back to meet him. “There you go, baby. Keep squeezing just like that. I’m right there.” he says, and you can tell by the lilt in his voice he is waiting for you.
You rock back, your bodies slamming together with a lewd smack, the sound itself just enough to tip you over the edge. You feel the rush wash over you as he pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist as his hips continue to move. He lets out a small grunt with each forceful spurt inside you, and you feel a wave of euphoria sweep over you as you realize he wasn’t joking after all.
“Fuck…” he whines, pulling out of you. You can hear him adjusting the lens of the camera and you’re so caught up in your own bliss you couldn’t care less that he is documenting his work. You feel him rest his hand on your ass, palming your cheek to the side for a better view as he leaks down the inside of your thigh.
The camera clicks, and just as you start to lower yourself down, you feel his fingers swipe up through the warmth dripping down your leg, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to look at him, his eyes completely fixed on you as he slides his cum covered fingers inside of you.
“Just for good measure, huh beautiful?”
You hear the shutter click a few times, a few indiscernible mumbles of praise from his lips, and finally the thud of the camera as it lands next to you on the sheets. He pulls his fingers from you, tapping your ass softly as an indication that you’re good to relax.
The mattress shifts as Sam gets out of bed, his footsteps heading towards the bathroom. The light shines for a moment accompanied by the sound of running water as you wait patiently. He’s back soon after with a warm, wet washcloth, and he gently parts your thighs to start cleaning the mess he made.
It’s quiet as he tends to you, his breathing slowing down as he does. Once he’s done, he slips into bed behind you, pulling your back to his chest.
“So… what are you gonna do with those pictures?” you ask, the smile on your face audible as you speak.
“Well, get them developed, I guess. But aside from myself and the poor person at the film lab, nobody will ever see them. Cross my heart.”
“And me,” you remind him.
“Yes, yes. And you, sweetness.” Silence hangs over the two of you for a moment before he speaks again.
“Will you stay?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You wrap your arms overtop of his where he’s holding you tight, nodding.
“I don’t think you could force me out of this bed.”
–
You’re woken by the warmth of sunshine on your face. Blinking and trying to remember where you are, you refamiliarize yourself with Sam’s bedroom in the daylight. Your eyes clear and focus on the camera sitting on the nightstand.
Sam is in a deep sleep, snoring softly with his mouth open, a few strands of his hair stuck to his face. You can’t help but smile at the sight before slipping out of bed and quietly sneaking through his house to collect your clothes strewn about.
You peek into his bedroom once you’ve gathered all of your belongings and he’s still out cold, only his feet poking out from beneath the sheets. Your eyes are pulled to the camera again, and then an idea forms. You tiptoe inside and carefully grab it, doing your best to remain quiet.
Needing darkness, you head for the bathroom and wind the film. You duck into his other bedroom on the way and grab an empty film canister. Hoping it’s quiet enough to not wake him, you close the bathroom door behind you and wait a moment before taking the roll out and putting it in the black container.
Once you’re done, you retrieve your keys from the cabinet by the door and grab an old receipt he must have just pulled out of his pockets when he was putting his keys in their usual spot. There’s a pencil on the music stand of the nearby piano, so you snatch it and leave him a little note. You write out your phone number, draw a little heart, and put the camera over the corner so you know he’ll find it. You silently sneak out the door and lock it from the inside behind you.
The drive back to your home proved to be shorter than anticipated, the light of day giving you a better sense of your location. You glanced over to the rolls of film laying in your passenger seat, taking mental stock on how many bottles of developer and Blix you had sitting on your shelf. It was times like these you were grateful for your little makeshift film lab, knowing that Sam said he would probably send these rolls off somewhere, and that some poor guy would have to see every lewd act appear right before his eyes.
You snatched the rolls from your seat and grabbed your camera bags from your trunk before making your way inside to your warm house. Feeling grimey, you ran yourself through a quick shower, eager to see what was waiting for you on these rolls of film.
Stepping into your lab you place the film rolls on the table, grabbing your Patterson canister, your chemicals, and your scissors to start the process. You trim the leads on the film rolls, smiling as you see your roll next to Sam’s. With the leads trimmed, you flip the light switch in your completely blacked out guest room, leaving you in total darkness as you pry the bottoms off of the rolls of film.
You load the long slippery strips of film into the plastic spools, screwing the lid back onto your canister before flipping your lights back on. You grab your chemicals and make your way to the kitchen, running the faucet to heat the water bath. It’s been a while since you’d done this yourself, but the process was ingrained into your memory, and you were careful to not miss a single step. You drop your bottles of Developer and Blix into the water bath, grabbing your thermometer from your junk drawer.
Your phone buzzes on the counter as you wait for the temperature to rise, your heart pounding as you see a new number flash across the screen. You make your way back to your lab, grabbing the canister off the table as your chemicals reach temperature. You carefully pour the developer into the canister, agitating it every few seconds while you read the message on your phone.
Unknown:
9:12am: Off so soon? And with my film? Should have known I’d never see those beauties. 😏
Your timer goes off letting you know it’s time to move on to the next step, so you set your phone down, ready to pour the developer out of the canister. Satisfied with yourself for not making a mess, you pour in the Blix, leaning away from the fumes as they waft through the air. You do your duty, agitating the chemical as directed, waiting the allotted time until it's ready to pour out.
You debate answering him right away, trying to leave just a touch of mystery in the air. You decide that you’ll wait until the film is done, teasing him with a photo for his eyes only.
You rinse your film with water to rid it of the chemicals, knowing there’s only a few more steps until you can see just how talented of a photographer Sam really is. You pour in your stabilizer, letting it sit for a minute, biting your lips together as you suppress the urge to text him back immediately.
With a deep breath you pour out the stabilizer, and unscrew the lid, ready to see if the evidence of your night came out in the wash. With shaky hands you pull the film strips from the spools, seeing 36 clear images appearing on the transparent roll of sepia film. A huff of laughter leaves your chest, seeing the negative image of your body in the tiny rectangles.
You suck your teeth as you hang the rolls of film to dry, knowing that in about an hour or so they will be ready to scan into your computer.
—
It seems like it’s taking longer than usual for the film to dry, at least it feels that way as you check for the hundredth time. An hour and some change later you’re dashing back to your computer with the film, scanning it into Lightroom to start inverting the images.
Your breath is stolen straight from your lungs as you see the first image. Your cheeks flame red at the sight of yourself, spread below Sam. You continue to click through the negatives, completely shocked at how good his composition is. You knew he was a hobbyist, but you start to wonder if maybe he missed his calling. You swallow harshly as you continue to look through them, but then you realize just how beautiful the photos actually are. You almost feel bad that you stole them away from him.
You work through each image, inverting the colors until they appear as they really are. You note the vintage look on the film and check the empty roll for the date. You smile as you read ‘86, knowing he shelled out a good amount of cash for that roll, and he decided to use it on you. The film comes out warm and grainy from the low light, but you feel that it adds to the photos, and you can’t think of a better turnout.
Your eyes catch on one photo, and after inverting the colors your suspicion is answered. The long finger shaped outlines on your hips were forever cemented in time. The memory of his grip burned into your mind. His body is connected to yours, and you can almost remember the feeling of him inside you as you look at the photo. You feel a rush wash over you, and you grab your phone tapping a few buttons on the screen until the camera opens. You bring it to the screen and snap the photo before attaching it to a text.
You
10:47am: *Attachment*
10:47am: I had something… pressing…to tend to. 😉
You snicker at your comment, hoping he will get the joke as you add his contact to your phone. You bite your bottom lip in concentration as you continue to work on the images, fixing the coloring and resizing them to the appropriate proportions.
As you reach the beginning of his roll, you start to see images of daily life, with people you don’t know, but are clearly happy to be having their photo taken by Sam. Bright smiles and warm moments captured by his keen eye.
Sammy
10:53am: Wow, um…
You
10:54am: I think they turned out pretty good, what do you think?
10:54am: *Attachment*
You attach another image of yourself draped across his couch, his pashmina spread across your body, the light hitting your throat exactly how he planned.
Sammy
10:55am: You’re so gorgeous, I don’t even know what else to say if I’m honest. I have to see the rest.
10:56am: Do you…Need help? I normally send my film off to be developed but it would be cool to watch.
As you click to the next image you sit in shock, trying to place the face next to Sam’s on his couch. You drop your phone to the table in front of you, trying to focus. You’re going positively crazy running through faces in your mind until it hits you. You take in the features and realize the man sitting next to Sam is the guy your friend was flirting with all night. Your heart starts to race as you make the connection. Is that the friend he left last night? Did she go home with him?
You blow out a deep breath and finish up the last photo of Sam and another long haired man, drinking foamy beers in what looks to be a foreign country. You smile at the bubbly mustaches on their lips and grab your phone to reply to his message.
You
11:02am: You’re a really great photographer, Sam. These shots are really, really good. All of them.
11:03am: If you really want to see the process you’re more than welcome to, kind of makes you feel like a mad scientist haha. I don’t have much going on at the moment, probably going to work on this next roll if you want to join.
Sammy
11:05am: What are you up to tonight? I have a work event I have to go to, but I’ll probably dip out early, especially if I have a good reason. 😉
You
11:06am: I have to shoot a show tonight, but I’m free after that…
Sammy
11:06am: So…
You
11:07am: Bring your film and a bottle of red. I just might have a few rolls we can use while we wait. 😏
Pairing: Jake x Reader, Sam x Reader, Jake x OC, Sam x OC
Word Count: Far too many...600k+
Summary: This story centers on a complex love triangle between three characters who are all entangled in a web of long-standing friendships and unspoken feelings. The story explores themes of first love, betrayal, family dynamics, and the challenges of navigating romantic relationships within close-knit social circles. Underlying tensions and unresolved conflicts drive the plot, leading to significant events and emotional confrontations. She loves me, she loves me not? Maybe love really is written in the stars.
WARNINGS FOR THIS SERIES: 18+ MINORS DNI - Alcohol, Gambling, Smoking, Marijuana, Cursing, Dramatic Themes, Nightmares. Smut Including: Kissing, Touching, Making Out, Light Degradation, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Biting, Fingering, Name Calling, Edging, Mentions of Sub/Dom Themes, Voyeurism, Orgasm Denial, Unprotected Sex, Digital Penetration, Pet Names, Spanking. Angst Including: Jealousy, Possessiveness, Infidelity, Heartbreak, Toxic Themes, Arguments, Yelling, Extreme Portrayal of Sadness, Crying, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Cheating on Partner, Abandonment, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Loss, Marriage, Hospitalization, Severe Injury, Death, Poor Coping Mechanisms, Slight Alcohol Abuse, Extreme Grief, Fluff.
This story is a collaboration with my lovely pal @gretavanmoon.
