a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!
w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5
â...accurate and efficient methods of decoding⊠further aiding us in understanding⊠um⊠complicated genetic codes⊠pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh⊠yeah.â Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He canât type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So heâs come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. Itâs Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.
You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that wonât add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. Itâs different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didnât happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. Itâs different talking about the other parts of your life that donât take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And heâs a good listener when his mind is clear and heâs focused on you. Only you.Â
Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal.Â
âI think it sounds good⊠itâs a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up laterâŠâ You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didnât have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he canât really do it himself right now.
âI donât know⊠feels like Iâm missing something. Iâm gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.â He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. Heâs applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And heâd basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair.Â
âYou okay?â You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Donât lie. âYeah Iâm fine⊠just⊠want to get this right.âÂ
You nod. Knowing thatâs not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. âWell, maybe you should include some of your⊠personalityâŠtraitsâŠâ You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you.Â
âLike what. I mean⊠Tyler knows me. Heâs the one that told me to apply.â [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesnât like wearing them at all. But heâs worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now. Â
âYeah but heâs not the only one whoâs gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are⊠know the kind of person you are. More often than not, thatâs more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, youâre not just applying for a grant, youâre applying for a jobâŠâ You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows whatâs going on in your head. Or maybe thatâs just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasnât so much as kissed you since everything went down. Itâs only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and heâs getting a second chance. He wonât take your forgiveness for granted. âYeah, youâre right.â He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.
âMaybe talk about family⊠inspirations⊠personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourselfâŠâ You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. âUhâŠâ He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesnât really want to talk about his family. Doesnât want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parentsâ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you donât even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you donât notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldnât but he just canât help himself.
âI guess⊠we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But thatâs more⊠financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now⊠Iâve watched them build it into what it is today.â He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You donât know why. Mostly because heâs never spoken about this before. But if heâs applying for such a big opportunity then itâs important to include.
âOLI, Iâve heard of that, I thinkâŠâ You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know youâve heard that acronym before, or maybe youâve seen it somewhere?Â
âOâhara Legacy Investments.â He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though heâs confident his connections will get him in. Thereâs always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires.Â
âIs that the⊠that tall building downtown?â You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as heâs looking down at the research notes. âYour family runs that?â
âYep.â He sighs, not offering more information so you donât ask for more.
âOkay sooo⊠how would that influence your work at Alchemax?â You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell heâs losing steam, youâve been at this a while.Â
âSo I guess itâs not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but⊠Watching how that runs⊠how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goalâŠâ He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. âSo.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leaderâŠâÂ
âYeah. I think so⊠and soccer, we could include that too.â He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. âYeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If youâre a leader⊠organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.â You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. âAnd to know you can work in a teamâŠâÂ
Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that youâre able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. Itâs due next week and without you heâd be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now heâs spending more time with you because of that. âI think alsoâŠâÂ
He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. âIâm an older brother too⊠thatâs⊠I donât knowâŠâ He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. âI feel like⊠maybe being a leader in that way is different.âÂ
âItâs very different, yesâŠâ You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. âMaybe something about⊠protecting⊠looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guessâŠâ He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I havenât been a very good role model as of late.Â
âLoyalty⊠role modelâŠâ You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes youâre making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.
âI also think youâre very passionateâŠâ You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. âI think Iâm just generally angry⊠I donât really think before I do thingsâŠâ He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. âYeah but we donât have to include that⊠passion worksâŠâÂ
He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. Itâs quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all thatâs happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion youâre talking about? That he loses control and canât get it back until itâs almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit.Â
All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldnât have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. Thatâs a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think heâs loyal, heâll be loyal as a dog. If you think heâs passionate, heâll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think heâs anything, heâll be that. If you want him to be.Â
He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive âmineâ you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe youâll be his or heâll be yours again. Heâll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters wonât fall off, making sure theyâre stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair.Â
âAnything else for today? We did a lotâŠâ You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. âNo, I think thatâs good, thank you⊠but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?â He asks hopefully. âYeah definitely, Iâll block out some time for youâŠâÂ
He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag.Â
âSo⊠you wanna tell me whatâs stressing you out?â You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what heâs doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. âYou can read my mindâŠâ He smiles.Â
âNo, youâve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.â You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. âOh sorryâŠâ He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers.Â
âItâs okay⊠Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enoughâŠâ You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something heâs already spent so long working on. âNo itâs not⊠I⊠Iâm really glad you can help me with it. Thank you⊠Iâm just worried about the game tomorrowâŠâ He nods. And it dawns on you. âOhhâŠâ
âI actually should get going⊠have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how weâre gonna pull this offâŠâ He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. Heâs been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that heâs out for the next few weeks. Itâs against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and heâs nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him.Â
âYouâre not gonna play are you? You shouldnât⊠not with your hand like that.â You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. âI canât. It's an instant disqualification⊠so I have to talk to Coach and maybe Iâll just assistant coach tomorrow, I donât knowâŠâ He sighs, knowing itâll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far.Â
âIf it hurts, let Coach know⊠you donât have to do anything thatâs uncomfortable.â You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He canât remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. âI will⊠donât worry about meâŠâÂ
He says it but he doesnât really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesnât need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, heâs done more than enough of that over the past few weeks⊠he does want you to care. Or itâs more like⊠once he realized you actually do care, now he doesnât want to lose that.Â
âJust be careful⊠I know youâll do well and the team will be fineâŠâ You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. âThank you⊠yeah I just need to chill.â He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. âWell⊠the feeling youâre having just means you care. Itâs a good feeling, even though itâs scaryâŠâÂ
He looks in your eyes, down at where youâre still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. Youâve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside.Â
âDinner later?â He inquires, brow raising as heâs starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time.Â
âSure, Iâll meet you thereâŠâ You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where youâre sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that heâs leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.
âOâhara! Dude.â Peterâs voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. âWhere you been? You disappeared againâŠâ Peter chuckles.
âOh yeah Iâve just been⊠busy in the lab and stuff⊠and my application.â He lies. While itâs true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, heâs also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he wonât tell Peter that.Â
âDana said you were being crazy or somethingâŠâ Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguelâs heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? âWhat did she say?â
âWell⊠sheâs kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last weekâŠâ Miguelâs eyes widen at that news. Itâs just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. âMJ thinks sheâs full of shit bu-"
âShe is full of shit.â Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didnât sleep with her. Heâs not surprised though that sheâs spreading that rumor around. It wouldnât be the first time.Â
âShit, what happened?!â Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguelâs forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea whatâs going on with someone whoâs supposed to be his closest friend. âI broke my wrist but itâs fine, doctor says itâll be fine even without surgery.â
âItâs fine?! What about the game?â Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. Itâs against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguelâs the captain, their top offense and shooter.Â
âIâll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.â
âItâs Princeton, Miguel. Weâre gonna get fuckinâ smoked out thereâŠâ Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. âI know it sucks⊠I know. But those new drills have been helping⊠Iâm gonna talk to coach.âÂ
âAlright⊠but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. Iâm not playing defense because they canât pay attention to the fucking ball.âÂ
âI know, I knowâŠâ Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. Theyâve been preparing for this game for a while now and itâs a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.
âOkayâŠâ Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. âWell, text me what Coach saysâŠâ He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as heâs starting to walk off to where heâs going. âNo more disappearingâŠâ Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. âYeah, yeahâŠâ
âAlright, Iâll see you later.â Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and itâll be all his fault. Because he canât do more to help the team heâs supposed to be leading.
He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow.Â
âCome on guys, one more time!â Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so itâs nothing heâs not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced itâll earn them less whistles through the game.Â
Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing theyâll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.
The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. âMarco, youâre gonna break youâre fuckinâ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesnât have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?â Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey.Â
âJust like that⊠keep it loose and look at Miller, heâs the one youâre paying attention to. Donât look at Durante, heâs gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..âÂ
âThereâs a lot of people hereâŠâ Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. Itâs a little more than theyâre used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.
âItâs a big gameâŠâ Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play⊠he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.
Itâs the end of the first half and itâs been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. Theyâd be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines.Â
âTheyâre fastâŠâ Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. âWe have to be faster⊠but weâre holding our ownâŠâ Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. Heâs here to lead, not berate.
âYou good?â He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peterâs the one thatâs been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princetonâs defense is good. Itâs one of those games where no oneâs going to score very many goals, itâs all about making sure the other team doesnât get too close. âThat was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.â Miguel says.Â
âI will⊠theyâre so fuckin fastâŠâ Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. Theyâre down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer.Â
âI got a girl in the standsâŠâ Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. âYeah?â Miguelâs brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, heâs very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. âWho is she?âÂ
âHer nameâs y/nâŠâÂ
What?
â...yeah you should meet her⊠sheâs really pretty and smart and funny...âÂ
What?
Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguelâs face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself canât put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peterâs words. âSheâs head of the tutoring club⊠did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, Iâm getting paid to do some freshmanâs homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the worldâŠâ Peter laughs, talking on and on.Â
Miguel doesnât understand. Itâs like his brain canât process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say itâs a joke. But how could it be a joke?
âSheâs riiiiight⊠there-â Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where heâs pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. Itâs you.Â
He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? Youâve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didnât know? But Peter knew?
He canât help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. Youâre like⊠his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, heâs the reason youâre here.Â
Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesnât know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didnât even know it.Â
He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he canât even tell. He hopes itâs him but itâs too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesnât even know who you are. Fuck.
âAlright boys! Letâs huddle up!â Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel canât help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. Youâve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didnât even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all heâs done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer.Â
Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he canât make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again.Â
âOâhara!âÂ
His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didnât even know you knew each other.Â
The second half, the rest of the game, itâs hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. Heâs watching the team play but itâs like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.
He canât help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time heâs able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, youâre looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peterâs possession. And he canât focus on anything except what he doesnât know. What he canât control.Â
âŠ
âWooooo!â Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and youâre gone from your seat.Â
âOâhara!â The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles.Â
The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldnât close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peterâs voice.Â
His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldnât I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that Iâm actually working really hard to repair? He ought to.Â
He listens to Peterâs conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm heâs talking about you. But he canât make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out.Â
He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. Heâs not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you.Â
When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? Whatâs about to change? Youâre gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesnât like this feeling. This is the loss of control.
âMiguel!â Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him.Â
âWeâre gonna get drinks, you have to comeâ Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where youâre standing. âThis is y/n⊠y/n this is MiguelâÂ
âYeah we know each other.â Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. Heâs annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that itâs not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or⊠that thereâs something going on⊠heâs not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. âOh cool, so drinks?âÂ
Miguelâs a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you donât accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good⊠friends.Â
âUh⊠I donât know, Iâm kinda tiredâŠâ You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since itâs not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like youâre really one of Miguelâs friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. Thatâs all you want to prove to him.Â
âCome on⊠please?â Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesnât want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when heâs had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesnât help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesnât want to do this. Heâd rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this.Â
His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he canât right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But heâs trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him.Â
âIt would be fun, right Miguel?â Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he canât do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. âYeah⊠comeâŠâÂ
Your eyes light up and Miguel knows heâs done for. âOh great!â You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great itâs going to be and how many people will be there. Miguelâs heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.
Itâs the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. Itâs a crazy night at least for you. Miguelâs seen nights like this before, but this time youâre here. And he wonât let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesnât care about anyone else in this bar tonight.Â
Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you.Â
He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. Itâs clear youâre not a party girl. Youâre a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didnât have a fierce determination to protect you in this place.Â
He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. Heâs the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.
âDrink⊠Do you want a drink?â He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. âYeah! Whatever is fineâŠâ You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like youâre fitting into his world.Â
He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesnât know if youâd want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. Heâs never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. Youâre so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest.Â
Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. âOh, I thought you were gonna get the same thingâŠâ You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup.Â
âSomeone needs to be responsible for all these people right?â He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows theyâll listen to him. âAnd I need to be sober if Iâm carrying you out of this place drunk off your assâŠâ He jokes, teasing you.Â
âIâm not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank youâŠâ You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. Youâre so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light.Â
âWell how is the beer at least? I know itâs not something sweet but itâs probably the best thing they have here.â He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. Heâd love to just be all over you and show people that youâre his. But youâre not right now. Youâre his friend and thatâs the boundary you both set. Heâs trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. âItâs fine⊠I donât ever drink much anyway so Iâm not pickyâŠâÂ
He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how youâre a little nervous in this place. Itâs not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. âYeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonightâŠâ He comments, looking around then back at you. âYouâre okay though, right?âÂ
âYeah Iâm fineâŠâ You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. Heâs attentive, more recently than ever. Itâs true that heâs become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasnât been that long, itâs felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place.Â
Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend⊠isn't he⊠"
He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.
"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funnyâŠ"
His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that youâre calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girlsâŠÂ he's quite the flirtâŠ" He mumbles.
"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.
Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that youâre completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.
"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again⊠"
"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you cominââŠ" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.
Miguel can't help but smile, knowing youâre referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming thoughâŠ"
You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And Peter works his way through the room over to the bar.Â
"There you guys are! I thought I lost youâŠ" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguelâs eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive.Â
"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.
"Well you all played very wellâŠ" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguelâs body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines.Â
"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is toughâŠ" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.
"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent⊠Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.
You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice.Â
"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.
âUmâŠ" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell⊠"Sure!"
Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks?Â
"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. âOkayyyâŠâ Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguelâs rivalry. But Miguel doesnât care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face.Â
Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just wonât go away. Heâs practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because youâre so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go?Â
âSo⊠you guys are like best friends?â You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. Youâre tipsy and Miguelâs watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. âWe are⊠best friendsâŠâ Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguelâs shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and itâs getting annoying.Â
He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. Itâs getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here.Â
âOne more round?â Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. Youâre both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere itâs safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.
âDo you wanna leave?â You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see youâve been having fun. âNo, Iâm good, we can stay if you wantâŠâ He hums gently.Â
âDonât lie, MigâŠâ You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. âIâm a little tiredâŠâ He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know itâs time to go.Â
âLetâs go then⊠itâs too loudâŠâ You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay.Â
âŠ
âWai-I âave a questionâŠâ You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as heâs trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What youâve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and⊠and your tongue still tastes like beer and⊠and he smells so good.Â
âYeah, what's your question?â He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you donât topple over. âHold still, Iâm gonna take your shoes offâŠâÂ
âDâyou think⊠that⊠umâŠâ You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, itâs all you were thinking about all night. âM-my shoe is stuckâ
âI know, Iâm trying to get it offâŠâ He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.
âDo you think that⊠all your friends⊠that they like-like it?â You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. âDo they like what,-?â He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe itâs just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you.Â
âThat they like meâŠâ You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed.Â
He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter?Â
âLike P-peter⊠does Peter like me?â You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. Itâs becoming more clear you have a thing for him too.Â
Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. âCuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends⊠and I can be friends with your friends tooâŠâÂ
He doesnât understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like heâs miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter.Â
âUh⊠I think Peter likes you, yeahâŠâ He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. âReally? So we can all be friends?âÂ
His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again?Â
âIâm sweatingâŠâ You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. âWoah woah slow down, sweetheartâŠâ The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?
Youâre sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguelâs again. Youâre friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So whatâs stopping him? Whatâs stopping both of you from just being together again? Since youâve proven to him, you can fit in.Â
âMiguelâŠâ You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. âYes?â He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already.Â
You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. Youâre drunk. You donât know what youâre doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it.Â
Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. Youâre⊠kissing him⊠youâŠ
Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming.Â
But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and heâs so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again.Â
âWait-â
Heâs silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now itâs like youâre hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time.Â
âI need youâŠâ You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. Itâs everything heâs ever wanted and yet itâs not right at all. âNo baby⊠you need to go to sleep⊠youâre drunkâŠâ He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other.Â
âNo please⊠say you want me, please you have to, donât you want to?â You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. Heâs speechless. Doesnât know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker.Â
âI want you⊠I do want youâŠâ He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You wonât remember this in the morning.Â
You wonât remember this in the morning.Â
âI love youâŠâ He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat.Â
âMm?â You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you.Â
âNothingâŠâ He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing youâll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound.Â
To be continuedâŠ
Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!
You're nervous, wary of your new environment, but you're excited to take on the challenge of becoming a ranch hand. Meeting the O'Hara brothers is sure to stray you one way or another.
tread lightly âââ humor, Miguel is...difficult, mentions of food, animals, animal manure, I think that's it!
word count âââ 5.6k (shoutout to the beta, DA WIFE!! @slushycoookie đ)
note on the fridge âââ Special shoutouts to @opaloharas @monarchberrysblog @miguelhugger2099 @hysterical-reblogging as well as the Miggy server for guiding me with this story! It would still be in the drafts without y'all. Huge thanks to my beta Cookie! đ„ș I can't begin to say how much you've helped me. It would literally take up 20+ pages. JUST KNOW! THAT YOU ROCK!
last | next ⧠masrterlist ⧠AO3
JULY
You didnât know youâd be back in the south so soon. A part of you wanted to laugh at yourself for crawling back to the place that you swore youâd leave behind.
Growing up here can be rewarding, but the itch to escape the fear that others placed on the outside world to make your own decisions rushed through your body every year.
So, you did just that.
You broke free of the grasps of superstitious aunts, traditional geezers, and terrified grandparents. You spread your wings to the city. You traveled the world. You got to know family that knew the ins-and-outs of various transportation systems better than you ever could.
And yet in those small, almost insignificant, moments, you found yourself yearning for the South.
You missed the way the air smelt before it rained. The expanse of land as far as the eye could see. The warmth of your closest family who never quite understood your ambitions, but urged you to chase after them anyway. The taste of grease and hot food, no one else in the world could match those down-to-earth flavors.
You missed home.
Subconsciously, you found the South in the things you did.
In the way you added packets of sugar to any tea you had because apparently no one knows what sweet tea is.
In the way you called people âmaâamâ and âsirâ when you werenât really thinking about it.
In the way you had a little saying for every circumstance.
In the way you suddenly started to crave butter pecan ice cream as if you were in your 40s.
Still, home didnât exactly mean back under your parentsâ roof. You didnât miss home that much, enough to have a curfew at your big age. You figured that if you were going to move back, it would be to an area where you could at least catch the nearest flight to some far off land.
The advertisement to be a ranch hand was a bit obscure, but the doodle of the big family on the corner of it was enough to sell it to you. It probably wasnât the best idea to pack everything up so soon, but the pay was so unbelievable that you decided to test fate.
Your own family would have a heart attack. First, you were going to be almost in the middle of nowhere and second, you were going to be doing hard labor. Definitely not the little girl they watched grow up anymore.
It all felt surreal.
The sun was beating down on your legs through the windshield of a taxi-van. No tint was a match for this heat. You could hear your suitcases and bags rattling in the back with the one box of things you just couldnât sell. You werenât throwing away pots and pans, and no one wanted to buy your old dragonfly lamp.
The driver was a nice old man who spoke to you like you were a long lost relative, but he was starting to get way too quiet for your liking, and, like an idiot, you didnât put the address in your phone. The service was spotty and all you could see was miles and miles of tall trees and power lines.
You leaned back and hugged your purse close to your body, letting out a quiet huff.
âYou nervous?â the man asks.
You panned your eyes from a âHoney For Saleâ sign to look at the rearview mirror.
âA little. But, you gotta jump in with both feet, you know?â
Such a light answer for what could be a walk right into your untimely disappearance.
Or budding success. You werenât sure yet.
âThatâs right. Wish I could get you to say that to my daughter. All she wanna do is lay around and watch TV all day.â
âWell,â your heart picks up as he takes a turn. The land was huge, red gates covering acres of green land and a few buildings spread across it. âIâm sure she has her reasons. Just give her time.â
He laughed as he pulled up to the gate, âAinât that much time in the world. Do you need me to drive further?â
âNo, right here is fine, Iâll just drag everything through.â
You were quick to get out and get your things, body running on adrenaline. The cash you handed him was some of the last bit you had left. You're tense, wary of the new environment, but more than anything, you were excited for something new.
âSure you donât want me to drive a little closer? Those houses are far.â
âI think here is good. Donât want to startle anybody.â
âAlright,â he slams the trunk and gets back to the driverâs seat. âYou be safe now.â
With a quiet thanks and a wave, you watch his van back out of the rocky path. The dust under the tires makes you cough.
Roughed up combat boots scratch against the rocks in the path as you move to open the gate. It creaks loudly as you push past and the wooden sign burned with an H-marked spider jolts against it.
The person you were contacting said to just come on in once you got here. No number to call, no person to look for, no dress code.
Out in the open, you could hear cows talking to each other and birds singing their tunes. The wheels of your suitcase against the trail become the back beat of their song.
The land was truly beautiful, the few homes standing tall and proud against the plains. A small pond was at your right, ducks and mosquitoes floating over the top.
Following the path, you walked until you reached the first person you could find, the blurry image of reds, blues, and browns coming to form him.
A tall glass of water, taller than any other man youâve ever met. You were sure if he ever fell off of a horse, it would be a hard flight to the ground.
The hair peeking from under his hat was as brown and curly as the chocolate shavings youâd see on grocery store cakes. The skin you could see was a rich caramel, hidden in the shade of dark felt.
You scanned the expanse of his back, wondering how he worked in clothes that made you feel hot just looking at them. Even with the shadow of the rim, sweat was still beating down his neck and soaking up the collar of his plaid button down.
A thick belt was snug around his waist and his jeans were mighty tight. Dirt caked the hem of them and walking your eyes up, every white stitch was accounted for. A name was on his back pocket, but it was too thin, too scrambled to see.
Dragging a hefty suitcase across the rocky path, you got closer to him, and with an extended hand and a polite smile, you introduce yourself.
âYou needed a ranch hand?â
He turns his head to the side, barely acknowledging you, and turns back with a grumble, âOf course, this is the person I end up with.â
Your brows furrow, âWhat was that?â
âNothing. You can put your stuff in the guest house. Join me at the barn in five minutes.â
âDo you have a name or were you never taught any manners?â
He stopped fiddling with the broken buckle of a saddle and turned completely towards you, âYou talk back to all your bosses on the first day?â
Thick eyebrows lowered as he squinted at you and your breath hitched. If his hair was chocolate shavings, then his eyes were the mocha cake topped with swirls of coffee icing.
No man needed eyelashes that pretty nor lips that perfect and full. His arms were crossed as he stood there, body barely contained in his clothes. No man deserved to be that big with a striking face to match.
It was dangerous.
âMost bosses give me their names,â you drop your stretched hand, and the air lulls between you two. The purse across your body felt like it was digging in your skin. âOr at least a greeting.â
âWell, youâll learn pretty quickly that Iâm not most bosses.â
You bite your tongue, watching as he goes back to what heâs doing. That southern drawl in his voice was lingering in your mind as you realized that he truly meant what he said.
There was no proper introduction, no tour, no beginnerâs manual.
Breathing deep you try again, âCan you point me in the right direction?â
His head flicks to the right, stance unmoving like a pillar. The three houses were all that were left and the barn was in another direction.
Gripping the handle again, you made your way back to the trail.
With a hand over your eyes to block the sun, you wonder if the guy from earlier would care if you passed out in the middle of the road. The distance between the houses and the animals feels further than it needed to be.
âHey, hey, hey! Where ya heading?â
You slow your pace, unsure if the man sitting on a swinging bench was talking to you or someone else.
âWell, donât just stand there. Câmon!â he waves over with the excitement of a little kid. âI donât bite.â
Getting closer, the guy grunts as he stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. Heâs just as tall as the first man you met, but he looks lighter, happier.
He smiles as you pull your bag to the porch, brown lips stretching to show pretty teeth. He tips his felt hat off, and when he steps into the light, the sun dances across his eyes, bits of brown tapping along a hazel base.
âItâs nice to meet you,â he sticks out a hand and places his hat back, something you expected the first man to do. âIâm Gabriel OâHara. Welcome to The Huntsman Farms! âWhere the stallions roam free.ââ
You shake his hand with no hesitation, noting the strength in his grip, the roughness of his fingertips, âThank you, Iâm glad to be here. Although, Iâm not sure if your buddy was informed?â
Gabriel pauses, then looks over to the paddock with a grimace, âUh, heâs not too fond of visitors. A little bit of a stick in the mud. Sorry about that. I promise heâs all hat and no cattle. Figuratively.â
âThat hat is pretty tall, then. He did mention a guest house in this general direction.â
âAnd to that guest house, I will guide you.â
He grabs your case and lifts it up with ease, turning to go behind one of the most stark-white houses youâve ever seen.
There was a slight limp in his stride, noticeable enough for you to want to grab everything back, but watching him walk in front of you was entrancing.
Another pair of thighs and calves that fill denim cuts just before they make room to cover his boots. The brown belt hugged his waist nicely and the expanse of his back rooted itself in his t-shirt.
Sweat was building on your scalp.
Were all the men on this farm that built?
âSo, is it your first time in this neck of the woods?â
You blink, âIn Texas?â
âIn the countryside, hun.â
âOh, no! Born and raised in the South. I have plenty of family that lived in the country. I wouldnât call myself a connoisseur of all things country, though.â
âAs long as you can stand the heat, I think youâll be alright. Had a guy sign up for the job and he passed out on the first day. Poor thing couldnât tell a calf from a kid.â
âWell, Mr. OâHara, I can assure you that I know that much. And a little heat never hurt anybody.â
âGlad to hear it,â he laughs. âAnd please, call me Gabriel. Itâs a heap of Oâharaâs on this land alone. Gotta keep track.â
You hum in understanding, thinking back to the family name on the advertisement.
Looking to the backyard next to the path, you notice a wooden playset with hot pink spray paint fading away to green on the slide. Thereâs a giant tree with a lone tire swing and a red wagon piled with lantanas and pink ladies under it.
The guest house matches the atmosphere of the playful area: pale teal wood with a chocolate brown door and window shutters. Three rocky steps lead to a welcome mat shaped like a cloud, and a few shrubs run along the edge of the house.
Gabriel steps on the stones, body stiff as he places your suitcase right by the door.
âAre you the owner?â you find yourself asking, steering your mind away from its earlier spiral.
He straightens up as he unlocks the door, grin prominent even though he wasnât facing you.
âYou could say that. I pride myself on taking care of the critters when I can,â the door creaks and he finally uses the handle of your bag to pull it in. âNo unhappy chickens. No angry bulls. Unless Iâm on one.â
âYouâre a bull rider? Are you pulling my leg, Gabriel?â
âOh, I wish someone was pulling mine. This last sucker got me good. I didnât stretch that well before I got on âem and my bullfighters were scattered. Next thing I know, Iâm in the air with three seconds left and my fingers slipping from the rope. Then, boom! Landed on the gate with one ankle in between the bars and a pull so deep, Iâm on fire.â
Gritting your teeth and breathing in air through the gaps, your muscles tense like you were there.
âGod, are you ok?â
âWell, youâre still staring at this pretty face, ainât you?â
A laugh you didnât know you had in you finds its way out. Gabrielâs smile grows, shining just under the rim of his hat. He switched the light on as he joined you, hands on his hips as he looked around the room.
It was cozy and compact with the kitchen mere steps away from the living room you walked into. Sunlight coated the room with stripes through the barely open blinds and a âHome Is Where The Heart Isâ sign stood out on the wall next to the entrance.
The colors were similar to the exterior, blues and browns with a splash of white.
âI do hope you can come to love it here. I know itâs not much, but whatever you need, Iâll do what I can to help you out.â
âThank you so much. This was actually a lot more than I was expecting, honestly. The ad was a little ambiguous.â
âWhatâs life without a little fun?â
âA boring one according to you. I do have more stuff all the way back at the gate that I should get to before itâs seen as garbage.â
âOh, you stop that,â Gabriel says, blocking your exit. âIâll get my guys to bring it in later. You go ahead and get settled and Iâll check out your ACs before I leave you. Youâll need it.â
He stomped his shoes a bit then switched on the living room box. The stuffiness of the air lifted and the cool breeze and hum of the AC unit took over. He turns the corner and you open the blinds next to the couch, opening up the room even more.
Ten seconds and a blink later you hear a scream so high, you think one of the goats may have found its way into the home.
Running after the sound, you park behind Gabriel to see what caused the commotion.
In the bedroom with the light skirting around the curtains stood a tall creature with a head of flying fur. It had antennas that moved at a steady rhythm and a bend that felt irregular, strange to the eye.
Gabriel was leaning on the doorway, hands slapping against the wallpaper with short breath.
When he flipped the lights you gasp as the biggest, sleekest cat youâve ever seen stands on its hind legs and kneads the air. Its eyes are a bright green, standing out against its jet-black fur as it stares at you unamused.
âGabbie!â Gabriel shouts, moving to bend and breathe a sigh of relief. âBaby girl, donât do that. You know my heart canât take it.â
A little girl ducks out from behind the catâs head with a toothy smile and a pocket of giggles in her chest. She lets her cat down who only weaves between her legs, nearly knocking her over. Her hair is wild, thick dark brown fly-aways escaping what you think is a ponytail.
âDaddy said when you say that, it only means that youâre actually scared!â
âYour daddy donât know whether to scratch his watch or check his ass. Donât listen to him.â
âAre you here to help on the farm?â she asks you.
âWhy yes I am-â
âBaby girl, you know thatâs not how you greet people. Get it right,â Gabriel chides.
She huffs, hair bouncing as she looks down at her feet. Her hands go behind her back, embarrassed.
ââM sorry, maâam,â she mumbles, thick eyebrows furrowed.
Her cat sits in front of her and meows low, body stretching up to place its paws on her shoulders. It started to rub against her face, purring loud and content.
Your heart tugged at the scene. It reminded you of yourself, getting fussed at for the smallest things.
Walking next to her, you squat to match her level.
âItâs ok, sweetie. You didnât mean me any harm,â you place your hands in your lap as you look at her.
Her cheeks are full and her eyelashes are long. Thereâs a bandaid on her chin and from here you can see that her hair is stretched and curly, barely contained in a scrunchie trying to hold it all together. If she hadnât confirmed it already, you would think sheâs Gabrielâs daughter, a mole under her bottom lip matching the one on his jaw, but those eyebrows were reminiscent of the man from before.
âTell you what, Iâll tell you my name, and you can tell me you and your kittyâs names. Deal?â
âDeal!â
You learn that her name is Gabriella and her cat is a Maine Coon named Jade, like the Bratz doll.
âBecause his eyes are green like herâs! And heâs a cool cat. Did you know that âKool Katâ is Jadeâs nickname?â
âI wouldnât be a girl with a passion for fashion if I didnât.â
She giggles, sienna eyes sparkling as she claps her hands.
âWant to see my dolls? We can play dress-up. And have a party! Oh, oh! I have tiaras for me and my cats. You can borrow one!â
âGabbie.â
âI can push you on the swing and introduce you to the baby cows and ride the four-wheeler.â
âBaby girl.â
âAnd we can do parties! My birthday already passed, though. Iâm 8! How old are you?â
âGabriella,â Gabriel says louder. His hands are on his hips as he gives her a knowing look. âI know you hear me calling you. And you never ask a lady her age. Thatâs rude, baby girl.â
She pouts again and nods, picking up her cat from under its armpits. Jade sticks his tongue out and starts kneading once more.
âNow go run off and play. She needs to start her work, ok? If you do right, maybe sheâll play with you later.â
âOk, TĂo.â
Gabriel turns and leaves the room but before Gabriella can get too far, you tap her shoulder and urge her back with a finger. You cup your hands over your mouth and that glow is back in her eyes.
â28,â you whisper in her ear.
She leans back and smiles against the top of her catâs head.
âYou really are a princess,â she whispers back. She shuffles off before Gabriel can fuss again and you follow.
He guides her through the entryway, watching through the screen door as she and Jade run back to the main house.
âSorry about that. I think she snuck in here while we were getting it ready.â
âItâs fine. Sheâs a cutie pie. I donât mind at all.â
âYeah, that she is,â he sighed. âOne look at that face and youâre a goner.â
Looking at him, you could tell that those words were accurate. He couldnât even hold his authority for too long.
âDid Miguel have something for you to do? I wanted to get Gabbie out of your hair, but thereâs no telling what he has planned. Heâs been running all over the ranch like a chicken with his head cut off.â
âWho?â
Gabriel snickered and looked to the side.
âI know itâs hot but donât go forgetting stuff on me so soon, honey.â
âNo, I, I really donât know who Miguel is. Was that the first man I saw? Tall? Long hair? Wouldnât look me in the eye?â
Gabrielâs head dipped as he slumped against the door.
âOâHaraâs. A line full of knuckleheads, I tell you,â he mumbles. âCâmon.â
âEven without a watch, Iâm sure that you know itâs been more than five minutes.â
You rub a wrist over your temple, swiping away sweat. Gabriel clicks his teeth next to you.
âLook, if this is how youâre going to act with basic tasks, you wonât make it far here.â
âReally?â Gabriel answers for you.
Miguel turns, letting go of the stall he was unlocking.
âThought you had business to tend to.â
âAnd I expected you to show some respect, so I guess weâre both up the creek without a paddle.â
âWhat do you want, Gabriel?â
âFor starters, you should apologize to this lovely woman.â
âApologize for what?â
âFor being a jackass. We finally get some help around here and you canât even muster up a smile on that square head of yours.â
âThe same square head that your mama blessed you with?â
âThe same one that Iâm about to knock up against the barrels if you donât quit it.â
Miguel smirked and started to roll up his sleeves. Your eyes zero in on his thick, sturdy arms decorated with hair. His muscles flex as his fingers fiddle with a button on his cuff.
âIâd like to see you try. You can barely stand straight right now.â
Gabriel takes his hat off and places it over a lasso hook, then cracks his neck. Your stomach lurches and you canât tell if itâs because your brain has deluded you into thinking that theyâre fighting over you, or if youâre actually nervous about two men well over six feet about to roll around in dirt.
As Miguel loses his hat and his hair falls to frame his face, you think the first option sounds more pleasing.
You back up as quietly as you can, the two of them shouting curses at each other so loudly that they donât even notice your movements.
âI canât believe you want this nice lady to see you on your ass.â
âAnd I canât believe you still donât know when to mind your own.â
âYour own is my own,â Gabriel bites back.
A crunch behind you grabs your attention.
Jade looks up at you, one eye scrunched as he munches on a bug. A tiny, sparkly pink cowboy hat adorns his head. Looking further, Gabriella looks up at you with big brown eyes.
The boys were only getting louder.
âExcuse me,â you interrupt them. âAs much as this is entertaining me, little ears are listening.â
You point to the entrance where Gabriella is doing the worst job of hiding. Her fingers stand out against the white opening and Jadeâs tail stands tall and curved. He makes a stunted meow as the attention falls on him.
In a heartbeat, their demeanors change. Balled up fists loosen and shirts unravel. They both drop to the ground, Gabriel struggling, and beckon her closer.
For once, Miguel looks softer, at ease.
âHey, sunshine,â
Gabriella walks fast to get to him, hands fiddling together. Once sheâs in his arms, he cradles her, kissing her cheek softly.
âWere you and TĂo Gabri fighting?â
âNo, no baby girl. We werenât fighting.â
âYeah, we were just talking,â Gabriel agrees, smoothing back her hair that shoots right back up afterward. âJust some brotherly love, is all.â
âThen why is your shirt all messed up?â
She points to Gabrielâs stretched collar and picks at a loose button on Miguelâs.
âOne of the horses might have gotten a hold of it.â
âYeah, TĂoâs right, Bubba was a little late with feeding time today. Magenta might have gotten hungry.â
Gabriella twists her lip.
âTĂo, you know Magenta doesnât like boys! What if she ate you up?â
Gabriel laughs before he can even think of a response, eyes warm as he takes in the seriousness of his nieceâs face. With her eyebrows pinched like that, she was the spitting image of her father, scowl and all.
âWell, thank God youâre here to rescue me. Your daddy was no help at all.â
âIf Magenta canât stand you, what makes you think she wants to see me?â
Gabriel sneered at Miguel who only shrugged back.
âWhat were you hiding for anyway, Gabbie? I thought I told you to go play.â
She stares at her fingers, chin tucked away into her chest. Miguel rubs her arm, silently encouraging her, while Gabriel tilts his head and waits.
âI,â her eyes glance at you then back down. âI just wanted to see her again.â
When Gabriella says your name, itâs like everything sparkles around her. Like thereâs bubbles and glitter in the air.
Miguel rolled your name on his tongue. He took you in and looked at you with more than just disdain underlining his skin.
Getting up without letting his daughter go, then helping Gabriel off the ground, he acknowledges you.
âCan you ride a horse?â
Your tongue slides over your teeth in your mouth. Itâs not missed on you the way he watches you shift your weight, eyes calculating and stern.
âNo. No, I canât.â
Miguel looks at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.
âThatâs completely fine. Not nothing none of us canât teach you,â Gabriel supplies.
âI could teach you!â Gabriella perks up, body jerking in her fatherâs hold, but his body remains still.
You smile at her in thanks as Gabriel continues.
âHave you ever milked a cow? A goat?â
âOnce,â Gabriel looks hopeful and Miguelâs eyebrow raises. âAt a museum. It was a simulation.â
âHear that Gabri? Theyâre doing simulations for cows now.â
âCan you,â Gabriel ignored his brother completely, âplant something in the soil?â
âAbsolutely. My mama has a garden and I planted things with my grandma before.â
Gabriel lights up as he turns and hits Miguel on the shoulder with glee.
You didnât have the heart to tell him that your last plant died. Nor that the last time you were helping your grandma was when you were three years old and completely in her way.
âSo you can operate a shovel?â
âYes, I can do that much.â
âGreat,â Miguel says. âI know the perfect task for you.â
Excited, you thought nothing of the calmness in Miguelâs voice. His tone and drawl mixed with Gabrielâs sweetness were like a lullaby sinking you slowly to the ground.
Right about now, youâd say the wrong ground got a hold of you.
Grunting, you stick a scoop shovel under the pile of shit in the corner of the stall.
It was gunky and rancid. For such a tiny area, there was so much of it piled high. You mourned the complete loss of your trusty shoes as you practically slid over it to gather up more.
âYou know, cow manure is actually something that we farmers just canât get enough of,â Gabriel stands by what you deemed the shit-truck. âIt helps us so much. Keeps those crops coming.â
âSo why isnât said Farmer One and Two shoveling it with me?â
Surprisingly, nothing splashes out with the way you bang your shovel against the truck bedding.
Miguel was off somewhere. Probably thinking you werenât cut out for this.
âOh honey, this is looking like the same shit I picked up yesterday morning. This truck hadnât even hit the road yet. â
You stick your shovel in the ground and cross your forearms over the handle. Gabriel looks at you apologetically, but the chuckle in him doesnât stay contained.
Miguel was a jackass.
âThe cows donât even mess up where they sleep this bad no way,â he continued. âI was so busy getting your house ready and fixing up things for the rodeo, I was able to move this out the way for composting.â
There was a rodeo to prepare for and yet Miguel still found time to give useless, stinky, busy work.
Not only was he a jackass, he was a dickhead, too.
You get back to work, choosing to imagine that you were throwing manure across Miguelâs face rather than getting mad at the flies whose home you were destroying.
Gabriel stays. Whether itâs for moral support or to laugh at your agony, youâre not sure, but his commentary cools you down.
As the last school of gunk hits the large pile in the bed, you really think you could muster up enough energy to strangle your boss. You could barely see through to the front of the truck.
âThank you kindly,â Gabriel taps the bunk. âI donât really like Miguelâs methods ofâŠâ
âHazing? Torture? Deceit?â
ââŠtesting,â he finishes. âBut, if anything, you showed me youâre willing and ready to work. Itâs a lot more than this last, what, ten? Twelve or so âranch handsâ have done in the first weeks.â
You relax a bit, âSo, Iâve got the job?â
âHad it when you told Miguel off at the paddock.â
He pats your shoulder as he shuffles to the driverâs seat.
âGo rest up. We got a busy day tomorrow and you start to smell like youâre the one that dealt it whenever you deal with manure.â
Grimacing, you nod in agreement. Your blouse would be better off in a garbage chute at this point.
Gabriel hikes himself in the driverâs seat and yells out before he leaves.
âBe out here at 7 AM sharp tomorrow! Donât be late or itâll be worse things to do than this. Left you some dinner on the table and some food in the fridge. Weâll handle shopping later.â
The truck moves and you panic, watching the pile fall into itself. Gabriel is driving far too fast.
Once he becomes more of a pebble in the distance and the sun is starting to hide behind he trees, you take a sniff at your clothes and gag.
Youâre not sure if the world's strongest detergent and chlorine gas could get the smell out, but you know that from today, you were going to either prove Miguel wrong or die trying not to kill him.
After a shower, a deep cleanse to your scalp, a refresh to your braids, and a face mask, you finally go to the kitchen to see what Gabriel left you.
Thank you for signing up for this job! I know itâs hard labor, but the beauty of the result and the countryside make it all worth it.
I knew youâd make a great addition to The Huntsman Farms from our emails and I was happy to see that my gut was right.
For your hard work:
Fresh hot tamales made by my wife!
Thereâs a steamer on the stove to heat them up, but in case youâre prone to fires like me, just pop em in the microwave.
Enjoy and see you bright and early tomorrow!
P.S. - Thereâs some lemonade in the fridge too!
âA wife?â
You were too busy gawking at his face, you didnât even think to check his hand. Of course, a man like that would be tied down.
Sighing, you open the microwave and start to wrap two tamales in damp paper towels. Your eyes were heavy and you might actually start a fire somehow if you turned the stove on.
While your food heats up, you pour a glass of lemonade and take a sip. Itâs not too sweet, not too tart, and probably fresh.
When everything was ready, you sat at the small dining room table and unwrapped the husk.
One bite had you scrunching your face in anger and flipping Gabrielâs letter, searching for a description.
Fragrant tomatillo and green peppers, chicken bursting with flavor, and it was only just one bite.
You think there was another with pork and red sauce calling your name.
âShe can cook and she has a great man, how lucky.â
You catch some scribbles on the back of the notebook paper and you straighten it out.
Smiling at her princess greeting for you and her best attempt at spelling your name, you read her words.
Welcome to the farm! I hope we can play together soon!
And Iâll teach you how to ride a horse! You can ride my horse! Her name is Flora! Like the fairy!
And I like your hair! Itâs so pretty!
⥠Gabriella âĄ
You pout your lip taking in her sweet message. Such a darling came from Miguel, a complete menace.
A tall, dark, and handsome one, sure. And strong. Hefty. It all falls through once your brain registers his words and not his drawl. Heâs rude as all get out with the attitude of a donkey.
Despite that, as the night winds down and your head hits the pillow you wondered if you had made the right choice.
It was hot. It was stressful. It was far away from most things.
But, your thoughts kept running back to the little girl with wild hair and adorable smile.
For her, you think youâll stay a while.
dividers by âââ saradika + rookthornesartistry đ
 a/n âââ If you would like to be on the taglist, sign up here or comment! Let me know how you feel!!
phantompulseband
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
izzy806
