wake me from this eternal slumber, rumor has it, a kiss is all it takes; i'm no fairytale but your lips might make me one.
jh86 x reader: you've sworn off frat boys, but maybe just one more?
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f) yay! we love exceptions, fingering, hair pulling and lips and limbs and all my usual stuff (you guys know what i'm about). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: well, favorites, my ex was in pike in undergrad, so you can thank him for 18k worth of a fantasy-level frat romance (i know, it's too much, i need to cut it down, but i can't. this is how i'm dealing with my breakup. leave me be). and, actually, don't thank him. thank me, because i worked really, really hard on this <3. there are a billion things that i ask you to take for granted, like how i included too many side characters, so i know it will be confusing, but i needed sleazy nh13 in there, okay? and i needed starboy pitcher lh43, and cc22 falling for his postgame reporter, and tz11 not being able to catch, and qh43 being a pawn in a president x president love story featuring alex turcotte. all of it was necessary for my healing process. i wanted to write something in which someone can drop into your life and rewrite all of the things you believe to be true. some star-crossed shit. so, this is my best shot. what is love, after all, but leaving your window open for fratboy jh86 to climb into? i was never actually in greek life, so all of this is based on what my friends have told me (sam is based on my irl best friend, fun fact). forgive me for any plot holes and inconsistencies. please, please, tell me what you think, because i love when you do, and tell me what you want next. thank you for your support. thank you for indulging my silly whims and most delusional daydreams. tell your snakes i love them. getting pretty busy up here in the real world, but until next time. go canucks. all my love).
this day, the first day of classes, had been a real disaster, honestly. what had been the worse part, even? it was hard to decide, with so many natural contenders.
would it be the alarm clock of your roommate, which had gone off for twenty minutes, until you had to get up yourself and shake her awake? or maybe the pop quiz in your lecture, on the very first day, when you forgot to do the reading? but, no, we can't forget the back to back to back texts from that guy, the one who mistook your general friendliness as romantic interest.
it had been a terrible day, genuinely, but this might be the worst of it, you thought, as you stood outside the tke house, on the sidewalk, waiting for your friends. your friends, who said they would be out ten minutes ago.
it was getting kind of brisk outside, and your outfit, compliant with the finance bros and business hoes theme, wasn't keeping you very warm. you looked down at your phone, tried to will a text from one of them into existence. you just wanted to go home, which, honestly, you probably should have already done by now. your sorority house was maybe a five minute walk down the row, but you didn't want to abandon your friends, and you didn't really want to make the walk alone, in the dark.
you could go back inside, you knew. but, this day had sucked, and you weren't in the mood to dance on an elevated surface tonight.
you opened the text conversation with your roommate, typed almost out? and hit send, before a deep voice pulled your head up.
"miss, is that an open container?" you looked up to find a stout officer of campus security shining his flashlight on you and your red plastic cup.
of course, because today was terrible, today would be the day that security cracks down on their no-open-containers-on-the-row rule. of course.
you looked into your solo cup, swirled around the pink liquid. what could you even say this was? the officer could probably smell the vodka in it from where he stood, a few feet away. honestly, it was probably better to just come clean. you'd get, what, a citation? hopefully a warning, if you could conjure up some tears?
you sighed, opened your mouth to spew some sob story, but you were cut off by some goofy voice coming from the door.
"there you are, baby!"
both you and the officer turned to face the voice, now an approaching figure.
your eyes narrowed as you tried to make out a face from the dim street light. you certainly were not anyone's baby. and you were fairly certain the only people who could have been wondering where you were would be the friends you came with, who had much more feminine voices.
before you could tell this guy he had the wrong idea, though, he slung a heavy arm around your shoulders, used it to pull you close to him before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, gentle, doting, fleeting.
you were about to shove this guy off of you, as he had obviously mistaken you for someone else.
"thanks for holding my drink for me," he said, then, taking your cup from your hand and downing it in one go.
you swallowed, your mind buzzing, not just with confusion but with the weight of his body against yours, the ghost of heat from his lips on your temple, the slightly muddled sandalwood scent of him so close. was he covering for you, this stranger? this stranger, who definitely could see your face, now, so there was no one he could be mistaking you for.
was he just being nice?
"'course, baby," you mustered, letting yourself lean into his embrace, hooking an arm around his waist. if he was going to get this officer off of your back, you'd let him.
your savior turned to face the shorter man in front of you both, as if noticing him for the first time. "oh, good evening, officer," he said, ever the gentleman. "can i help you?"
as the officer explained his presence with a gruff tone, you turned your neck to look at the face of the man who currently had his arm around you, whose lips on your forehead you could still feel like a purpling bruise.
you looked up at him, and your stomach flipped, because he was just so pretty. so much so that it flooded your gaze, made him hard to take in all at once. that fairytale profile, cut jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft slope of a nose. long, dark lashes that framed light blue eyes. grown out hair that curled around the brim of his backwards baseball cap, which read the letters tke in bold font. full, pink lips you had the sudden urge to tug on with your teeth.
uh oh, the gossip in your head whispered to her friends. we've seen this before. we know how this ends.
you could have shushed her.
"as you can see, officer, there's no liquid here, at least not anymore," the tke boy above you said with the voice of an experienced sweet-talker, smooth and sugary. "we wish we could be of more help, don't we, baby?"
he turned his gaze down to you, meeting your eyes directly for the first time. oceanic amusement met your careful skepticism, so electric and charged you swore the streetlight above you began to flicker.
"sure do," you said, reluctantly fixing your gaze on the officer and away from the mesmerizing face next to you.
the short man looked unconvinced, but switched his flashlight off anyways.
"have a good night, sir," you added, to which he muttered something and walked in the other direction.
you waited until he was out of earshot before lifting that warm arm from around your shoulders, crossing your own arms over your chest. "right," you began, "so, do i know you, or something?"
he tilted his head, let a bemused smile slant across his face, completely lopsided, completely endearing. "or something," he said, his eyes glinting, brimming over with mirth.
you furrowed your brow, shifted on your feet. "why did you come out here, then?" you asked. "and what was that whole act for?"
he sucked on his teeth for a moment, during which you took in his whole frame, his wide shoulders, tall build, strong stance.
uh oh is right, you thought to yourself, clasping your hands behind your back.
he shrugged, the movement making the muscles in his shoulders tense. you looked at your feet. "saw you come out here by yourself," he said, simply. "just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
you narrowed your eyes, which made his gaze shimmer again.
"then i saw you with the security guy, and he's been camping out recently for their open container policy, so i figured i'd-"
"you figured you'd pretend that we're together?" you raised a brow. "awful dramatic, don't you think? could have just smacked the cup from my hand." you cringed internally as soon as you said this. you'd felt his hand on your side, and there was no chance that soft touch was capable of anything so harsh.
he just took a step closer to you, though, and part of you wanted to back away, but you didn't. you couldn't. "maybe i had selfish motives," he added, "maybe i wanted him to think i could pull a pretty girl like you, hm?"
you gave a slight scoff, the smallest shake of your head, before looking up at him again, finding him closer, looking at you like you were something special. something he wouldn't find again.
"okay, you can turn off the charm, now," you warned, more for your own sake than his. "what's your name?"
he stuck out his hand to shake yours, which felt wholly odd, given you could still feel his lips on your skin, like a brand, a scar. "i'm jack," he said, and you took his hand, gave it a shake as you offered him your own name in return.
"and you're in tke?" you asked, half-hoping he would laugh, nod you off, say that fraternities were stupid. hoping he wouldn't be a frat brother, so that he might still be on the table. so that you wouldn't have to walk away from him knowing exactly how he would hurt you if you gave him too much of a chance, too much of yourself.
he nodded though, and you could have sighed in disappointment. he was so, so pretty, but pretty wasn't good enough for your no frat boys rule. not after last time. "are you in a sorority?"
"no," you said immediately, shaking your head. this was a lie, you were in alpha phi, but you were hoping he'd lose interest as soon as you denied it, as so many greek-life boys did.
the light didn't blink out from jack's eyes though. "you must have a walk ahead of you then, if you're not on the row," he said. "i'll walk with you, it's dark."
you peered up at him, dubious. what was his angle, here? what would he have over you if you said yes?
luckily, you didn't have to answer, because you heard your roommate's voice from the door, now walking towards you. "'m so sorry, didn't see your text," she said, walking right past jack and pulling you in for a hug. "of course we can go. let's go back to the house, yeah?"
you nodded, returned her hug.
"the house?" jack's voice asked, to which your roommate pulled away from you, looked at him.
"yeah, a-phi," she said, skeptical. "um, who is this?" she elbowed you.
"this is jack," you explained, "he saved me from a safety citation. jack, this is my roommate, sam."
he nodded to her, which she returned. if jack had put together that you had just lied to his face about being in greek life, he didn't call you out on it, only smiling that goofy grin at you again, the one that awoke butterflies in your stomach, the one that had the street light rolling its eyes at you.
"well, jack, we're off," sam said, linking her arm in yours.
"goodnight, ladies," he said as the two of you set off down the sidewalk. "until you next need saving, baby."
you shook in a disbelieving laugh.
"baby?" sam whisper-screamed at you.
"i'll explain later," you told her.
you did explain later, that night, when the two of you were taking off your makeup in your mirroring vanities.
"i'm sorry, what?" sam said when you had finished recalling the night. "he quite literally kissed you?"
you flushed, waved her off. "barely," you said, "on the head."
"okay, sure," she mused, patting toner into her face. "sure, as if this isn't the longest you've talked about a guy since last year!"
you sighed. "it doesn't matter," you said, trying to make yourself believe it. "he's in tke. and i've sworn off frat guys, you know this."
"oh, i know this," she replied, "but rules are made to be broken."
"that's not right," you sing-songed.
"don't talk back to your president," she sung right back at you, using her position in the sorority as a trump-card, as she was so prone to doing.
"he's probably just like the rest of them," you reminded her, and yourself, "he's charming and sweet and lovely until he gets what he wants, and then he's gone."
the words hurt as you spoke them, jagged and sharp in your throat, like shards of glass. it hurt to think about your history with frat guys, the ones you'd let get close to you.
the guy from pike whom you had been seeing, sort of, for half a year, who had relished in the chase of it all, been so caring until you finally slept with him. and then he acted like you were nothing, not even worth a text. he had acted like you were crazy, delusional, for thinking your relationship went any deeper than sex.
he had all but laughed at you when you had suggested anything different. "i don't, like, do labels," he had told you. "you know that, right?"
you shuddered, now, thinking about how stupid, how utterly childish he had made you feel. thinking about how you had given the next guy, the one from lambda, a chance, about how he had done the same thing, with slightly different words, on a slightly different timeline.
you refused to feel that way again.
sam just shrugged. "i don't know, love," she said, "the way he was looking at you, back there, i swear, it was special."
you scrunched up your nose. "i'm not changing my mind. it's not worth it. he's not worth it."
something in the back of your mind twisted, though, because there was a trace of disbelief in your tone.
"whatever you say," sam said.
"now, tell me about your progress on project peace treaty," you said, hoping to change the subject, referring to sam's crush on the tke president.
one of your other friends had come up with the moniker after sam had been voted president herself, like a relationship between the two leaders would be some kind of deal between nations.
sam pretended to faint in her chair. "i don't know how much more obvious i can be," she whined. "i swear, i can't tell if he's just quiet or if he wants me to get the fuck away from him."
you rolled your eyes. "there's no way he's not into you," you said, and you meant it - sam was your best friend, and the best person you knew. if there was a way not to like her, you were unfamiliar with it.
she just shook her head. "you haven't talked to alex," she said, solemn. "he's, like, impossible to read." she shot you a look. "not all of us can have a tke brother wrapped around our finger after meeting once."
you threw a pillow at her, laughed her off, tried not to dream that night about starry blue eyes and soft lips on your temple.
the week passed, slowly, defined by welcome back mixers and new classes, new faces.
before you knew it, it was friday. you were exhausted, but you only had two classes today, the first of which passed quickly, the second of which was ballroom dance 101.
you had already had your first ballroom class on wednesday, so you knew it was fairly laid back, a good way to get some unit credits, a place to move around a bit before the weekend. you were, however, taking it alone. sam had been planning on taking it with you, but then an opening for a class she really needed had come up, and you had insisted you'd be fine on your own, that obviously her major credits were more important than this random elective dance class.
and it was fine, truly, if not a little less fun without her there. you waited patiently for the instructor to arrive, watching the little circles of friends stretch and chat. you leaned your back against the wall, crossed your arms over your chest, let your mind slow until you felt a presence next to you.
you glanced to your left, felt your heart stutter as you did a double take. "jack?" you asked, almost incredulous. if he looked pretty in the night, he looked downright distracting in the daylight, today in khakis and a polo shirt.
"hey, baby," he said, maybe a trace of smugness in his voice as he mirrored your lean, your posture. "how're you?"
this felt like a trap. he felt like a trap. your eyes narrowed. "you're in ballroom? since when?"
"since i switched into it, yesterday," he answered, simply and plainly, before his mouth quirked up. "is that what the experts are callin' it? just 'ballroom?'" he gave a facetious nod. "i like it. drop the 'dance,' 's too bulky."
you rolled your eyes, but laughed nonetheless. "we went over this kind of expert vocabulary on day one," you said with a shrug, "sorry you missed it."
the instructor clapped her hands, signaling her arrival, before beginning a stretching sequence on the floor.
"you're gonna dance in khakis?" you whispered to jack, who had taken the spot next to you as you both leaned forward to touch your toes.
"was i supposed to bring my tux?" he asked, which made you choke down a laugh. "or are we doing some kind of breakdancing i'm unaware of?"
"what, you don't have your handstand mastered?" you teased, "if you insist, but that's the foundation we're building from, just warning you."
"students, focus!" the instructor demanded, shooting you a glare, which you acknowledged with a nod before sharing a guilty smile with jack, like kids caught laughing too hard on the field trip bus.
after class, the both of you were planning on walking back to the row, so you just walked together, chatted pleasantly. the street was pretty in the daylight in a way it wasn't at night. there was something to be said, you thought, about being able to see everything clearly, about knowing exactly what you were looking at. and sure, there was beauty in mystery, and there was beauty in danger, but there was beauty in comfort, too.
"so, do you think i could get your number?" jack said, as you both turned the corner, the tke house now in clear view. his smile was easy. "for all the questions 'm gonna have about the tango?"
you let out a little laugh, thought for a moment. it was just your number, after all, and he said it was for class. it probably didn't mean anything. it was probably safe. "okay," you said, taking out your phone, handing it to him, "sure." your mouth quirked up as he put in his information, sent himself a text. "don't know how much help 'm gonna be, though."
he handed your phone back to you, that halfway grin on his pretty face. "you're right," he said, making his way towards his front door. "if anything, you'll just distract me from the steps, lookin' like that and all."
you looked down, shook your head, felt the gentle heat of a blush on your face. "focus up, then," you chided, gripping the straps of your backpack.
"oh, i'm focused, baby," he called out, "just not on dance."
you rolled your eyes at him as he smiled at your reaction, both of you saying your goodbyes. you heard his front door shut only when you had completely turned away, began to walk the few houses down the street.
when you got back to your room, you flopped down on your bed, breathing into your soft comforter, until you heard the door swing open again. you looked up.
"all good?" sam asked, raising a brow. she threw her bag and keys on the floor by her desk, slipped off her shoes, hopped up onto her bed, opposite yours.
"yeah," you said, sighed, then laughed, short and breathy. "remember that guy from last weekend?"
her eyes went wide, now alert. her posture straightened. "uh, your valiant hero in the face of danger? of course."
you laughed, then, more naturally this time, hugged a pillow to your chest. "he's in my dance class." you looked down at your hand, examined your fingernails. "and i gave him my number."
sam squinted at you. "okay," she said, slowly. "i know what i think about this, i think you know what i think about this." she tugged her hair elastic down, freeing her hair from the ponytail it had been in. "what do you think about this?"
you sucked on your teeth, thought for a moment. "i don't know," you said. "i guess i'm just confused. and worried. and i don't think i want him to text me first, but i also kind of want-"
a buzz from your phone interrupted you, and sam tilted her head back and groaned. "that's him, isn't it?" she asked. "that's definitely him."
and it shouldn't have been, you thought, there was no way it was him, because it had been what, ten minutes? you knew frat guys, and you knew it couldn't be him.
it was.
forgot to ask if you were coming tonight, he had texted, followed by told you you're distracting lol.
"i knew it," sam said, shaking her head, "i'm like an oracle. it's a gift, i know, but it's also a burden." she gestured for you to speak. "what's he say?"
"asked if i'm coming tonight," you said, looking up at her, "in all lowercase. and he said lol."
she waved you off. "non-issue," she declared.
"but, like," you pushed, giving her a look, "who taught him to use all lowercase?"
"doesn't matter," sam continued, "he called you baby and kissed you on the forehead. he gets a lowercase pass."
"so you're the oracle and the lawmaker?" you asked, teasing.
sam nodded seriously. "and the president," she finished.
you laughed, then sighed, began typing.
"what're you saying?" sam asked, leaning forward on her bed, as if she would be able to read your screen.
"just that 'm not going," you said. not tonight sry, you sent, followed by you might want to get that distraction thing checked out.
sam nodded. "what was their theme tonight? something bad, right?"
"country bros and rodeo hoes," you answered with a grimace.
"who the hell is in their little think tank?" sam asked, shaking her head, "'m gonna tell alex if they do the bros/hoes thing again a phi isn't coming."
you were nodding in agreement when your phone buzzed again. then you'll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow? he had asked, followed by any chance you wanna come watch my friends' baseball fall game?, followed by maybe more exposure will help w my distraction problem :).
you bit your lip, looked up at sam. "what?" she asked.
"have plans tomorrow morning?" you said as you typed. thanks for the invite, you sent, followed by can i bring sam? and can you bring alex?
"of course not," sam said, "it's saturday morning."
as long as you'll be there, you can bring anyone you want, he texted back, followed by alex is in!
see you there :) you said in a final response.
the field @ 9, he sent, followed by thank you!
your brow furrowed at this, because what was he thanking you for? what had you promised him, in this interaction, besides just seeing him? surely that wasn't enough to warrant a thank you?
you cleared your throat, tossed your phone aside. "well, you do now," you said to sam. "we're going to baseball tomorrow morning."
sam groaned. "those guys suck."
"alex is coming," you tried.
"i love baseball!" sam said, straightening again. "and soph is covering it for the paper, so we can support her, too."
you laughed. "so easily convinced, eh?"
"you don't wanna talk to me about being easily persuaded," she sing-songed. visions of easy grins and high cheekbones flashed across your mind, and you knew she was right, so you let it rest.
the next morning, as the two of you walked to the baseball field, sam was reminding you about the plight of being the president.
"we've warned her a million times about what she's posting," she told you, out of breath, referring to one of the freshman who didn't seem to understand your house's social media rules. "i don't know how many times i can remind her politely before i just start smacking cans out of her hand when someone takes their phone out."
you laughed as you rounded the corner by the field entrance. "i say resort to violence," you said, "i hear it's always the answer."
sam groaned while you smiled. "look, there they are," you whispered, spotting him and jack over by the stands. suddenly all evidence of sam's unhappiness was mysteriously gone. her face was the image of alert interest. you imagined you probably looked a little more nervous as you approached where they were standing.
"gentlemen," sam greeted the pair of them as you approached. "good to see you." she shot a wink alex's way. he appeared completely unaffected. "'specially you, handsome."
you and jack shared a gentle smile at sam's boldness, and it felt like a secret language, the kind you make up with your friend during a playdate, the kind everyone understands but that feels extra special, anyways.
"hi, sam," alex said, plainly, but you caught the faintest of a pleased look in his eyes before he nodded to you in greeting.
"thanks for coming," jack said, although when he said it he was speaking directly to you. there was a fluttery feeling in your stomach that you scolded into submission. then he offered you his arm, and you decided that the butterflies were probably here to stay, at least for now. "shall we?"
you exhaled, had the feeling that touching his extended arm would be like touching a loaded gun, dangerous and daunting, but you took it anyways, found him warm and comfortable against your side as you fell into step together. "i'm, uh," you started, testing your limits, "i'm happy you texted."
jack shook his hair from his face. his returning smile was nothing short of stunning. "yeah?" he asked, which had your mouth feeling a bit dry. "made you happy?" this fact seemed to make him especially pleased, proud.
"what, no arm for me, al?" came sam's abrupt voice from behind you. alex appeared horrified by this nickname. "that's fine, i have enough arms, anyways. three would be overdoing it, i think."
you coughed, turned your gaze back to jack. you felt the force of his attention like a suckerpunch to the stomach. "yeah, i, um," you tried, "thanks, i guess. for inviting us."
his soft features lit up with amusement at your uncertainty, obvious discomfort. he appeared just on the verge of laughter, but it didn't really feel like he was laughing at you, somehow. you knew what being on the bad end of joke was like, and this didn't feel like that. maybe you were just distracted by how his mouth curved around his almost-laugh, slow and delighted. "of course, baby," he said, and you sort of wished he would stop calling you that. for your mental well-being, he really needed to stop calling you that. he tugged you slightly closer to him as you made your way towards some empty seats in the stands. "can i have the seat next to you?"
and you let out a little laugh, then, as you sat down, made a motion as if to wipe off the seat to your left. "all yours," you said.
he hummed, something sparking in his eyes as he sat down, which had you rethinking your words, the gravity of them. you couldn't bring yourself to regret them, though, if you were honest. how could you regret them, when they made him look at you like this? like there was some worldly truth in the blush on your cheeks?
the cracking sound of a bat pulled you from your daze. "so, who do you know on the team?" you asked, eager to push the conversation towards something safer, something that didn't have your neck feeling hot, didn't make the arm rest between the two of you feel like something cruel.
he turned his head towards the field slowly, reluctantly. "11, 22," he said, pointing to where they stood, one tall, the other shorter, broader. "trevor and cole." he smiled. "they aren't very good."
you huffed a laugh. "they're on a d1 team," you chided, "so they must not be terrible."
"we still have no idea how they made the team," jack replied, shaking his head. "you'll see, swear trev can't catch a ball."
"and they only took on cole 'cause he's good with media," alex added from the seat on the other side of jack. "he's their backup backup catcher."
sam snapped her fingers. "cole, like cole caufield?" she asked, her eyes widening when alex nodded. sam looked at you. "he's the one soph's been talkin' about. the one she interviews all the time for the paper."
you laughed in recognition. your friend sophie covered almost every baseball game, and apparently a certain backup backup catcher had been giving her a lot of grief whenever she tried to get a useable quote.
"oh, and 43," jack said, pointing to the lanky kid on the pitcher's mound. his smile turned bashful. "'s luke, my younger brother."
your stomach flipped at how his gaze had softened. "didn't know you had siblings," you said, although you didn't know much about him, so you guessed that made sense.
he just nodded. "older brother, too, you might know him, actually."
"'s in tke with you?" you asked, to which jack made some affirmative sound.
"yeah," he said, "quinn, 's close with nico."
you hummed in recognition, picturing their faces, noticing the similarities. "right," you said, "you guys do look similar."
his smile turned indulgent as he tilted his head. "'m better looking though, right, baby?" he asked, and his voice dripped with confidence, but you felt a strange compulsion to reassure him, anyways, could somehow sense that this was important.
so you just ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, gauging what to say, here, how much you could reveal. "i think you're pretty, jack," you said, and it was soft, low, for him. your eyes caught on his for a blazing second. "you know i do." and it was true, you knew he was aware of the way he affected you.
his gaze grew hooded for a moment, which terrified you, a horror-movie jump scare, a reminder of the reason you made your no-frat-boy rule in the first place.
luckily, as always, sam had something to say. she scoffed. "don't know about that," she said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs over the seat in front of her. "quinn's a straight ten." she gave a satisfied smile, looked to her right. "say, al, d'you think you could set me up with him? you guys are close, right?"
alex didn't answer right away. he shifted slightly in his seat.
"c'mon, from one president to another, think you could help me out?" sam gave a dreamy sort of sigh. "he's got a real face on him, and ever since he's grown out his hair-"
"'m not setting you up with him," was alex's short reply, cutting sam off, not quite looking at her.
you knocked jack's knee with your own, mirroring smiles on your faces.
sam just pouted as the game started. "don't have to be such an ass about it," she said, but you could tell by her face that she had accomplished exactly what she had set out to.
you weren't really a baseball fan, but this particular game flew by, probably because of the shaggy-haired, full-lipped person sitting to your left.
the slow pace of the game was cut with conversations about the party tke threw last night (it was lame, jack insisted, and his knowing, shy grin gave you a hint as to the reason why), which led to a conversation about who picks the themes (a board of esteemed individuals, apparently).
"i know it's just nico," sam said, rolling her eyes. "tell him that if he keeps up with the bros and hoes thing a phi isn't coming."
this actually appeared to alarm alex. "you're not serious," he said.
"as death," sam said, nodding.
alex promptly took out his phone and started to text someone. you had the sneaking suspicion it was nico.
jack asked about what you did last night, which led you to talking about your favorite movies.
"you've never seen scream?" you asked, practically confused.
he just shook his head, something glinting in his eyes.
you scoffed. "you have to. it's the best."
"you'll have to show it to me, sometime, then," was his response, which had you blushing, which had you wanting to.
cole never went in, as was expected. he seemed to spend the majority of his time goofing off in the dugout, throwing paper cups at his teammates, then turning away like he had no idea how they'd been hit.
luke threw a great game. he was the kind of player that drew your attention, that you just knew was good, even if you didn't know anything about the sport.
trevor only batted once (he leaned his shoulder into the pitch and took his walk). as an outfielder, he didn't see a ton of action, only getting one real shot at a catch, of course fumbling an easy out, much to the dismay of his teammates.
cole put his head in his hands but welcomed his friend back to the dugout with open arms.
the game ended with a win for the good guys, and you found yourself sticking around, all because jack wanted to wait to congratulate his friends and brother. he extended a hand to you to help you up from your seat, his grip firm and warm against your palm.
your group of four walked down to where the players would exit. you were surprised to find the silence especially comfortable, easy.
at some point, jack slapped his thigh, lightly. "i meant to ask you, baby, what's your coffee order?"
you gave him a confused sort of look. "just hot coffee with oat milk," you answered, almost wary. "why?"
"for next time," he answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world, maybe the most obvious.
you swallowed down how touched you were by this. it felt like ginger, like something you know is good for you but that feels foreign, harsh, anyways. "how do you like your coffee, then?" you asked.
"sweet," he answered, with a smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "really, really sweet."
a chaotic presence shook you both from the haze you'd settled into. "oh, hey, guys." you turned, found your friend sophie there, hands full with a clipboard and her bag and a voice recorder. she pushed her hair from her face. "how's it going?"
"all good, soph," sam answered. "you?"
sophie blew out a breath. "will be good once i get a couple quotes," she said, "just hope they don't give me twenty-two. readers want quotes from impact players, and-"
"sayin' 'm not an impact player, love?" came a goofy approaching voice. you turned again to see cole coming out of the now open exit gate.
sophie groaned. "tell me they're giving me someone else," she pleaded, to which cole grinned wider. "tell me they're giving me someone who played, today."
cole rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles. "might wanna turn on your recorder," he advised, "you're gonna wanna get this."
sophie just rolled her eyes and pulled him to the side, beginning a short interview about the game as you continued to wait.
shortly after, trevor walked out, grinning when he registered the group of you. jack slung an arm around your shoulders as his friend approached, which you noticed. which you would have questioned, maybe, if he didn't pull you into his side in the best of ways, if his touch didn't make you basically delirious. so delirious that you reached a hand up to hold his, dangling from your shoulder.
you could almost hear his satisfied smile as trevor clapped alex on the shoulder in greeting. "packed the stands for us, eh?" he asked, to which alex laughed.
it was the most emotion you'd seen from him. sam appeared very confused, crossed her arms over her chest. "great game," she said.
"yeah," jack continued. "my favorite part was that gorgeous catch in the sixth." he nodded. "seamless."
trevor scoffed, waved jack off. "almost had that one," he insisted. "was this close." he brought two fingers up to show just how close he had been to making that catch.
"you were not," came another voice. you recognized the tall figure as jack's younger brother.
jack clapped his hand in a handshake, congratulated him on the win. you echoed the sentiment, stuck out your hand in greeting, which he shook. "really good game," you said, "i'm-"
"know who you are," luke said, to which you furrowed your brow.
"how?" you asked. luke shared a look with his brother, halfway amused, halfway bored.
jack cleared his throat. "might've mentioned you," he said, but it came out like a mumble, a murmur into your hair.
your heart felt too big for your chest, for a moment. the peanut gallery around you faded away, suddenly it felt like it was just the two of you, standing here. just the two of you, in this universe. "been talkin' about me?" you whispered, and you couldn't help but lean a little more into his side, your grip on his hand growing a little more substantial, a little more confident.
because you'd been someone's secret before, someone's wyd text late at night, someone's nobody, really, someone's a friend. you knew what it felt like to be traded up for, like an old phone, to be the just old enough model that someone looked for someone else, someone newer.
it felt a little spectacular to be someone to write home about, someone to be seen with in broad daylight, someone to be gushed about to a brother. maybe it just felt spectacular to be that kind of someone for jack, in particular.
"a bit," jack breathed into your ear, the softest, probably most uncertain you'd heard him. like he didn't want to scare you away.
you bumped your hip against his. "real chatterbox, hm?" you whispered, adoring the ghost of a flush up his neck, the shy smile he couldn't seem to hide.
"only about stuff that matters," he said, and whatever joke you were going to say died in your mouth, tasted bitter.
luckily, cole and sophie approached, drawing your attention away.
"good to go?" alex asked, to which cole nodded, a smug smile on his face.
sophie huffed. "i don't know why they give me you every damn game," she exclaimed, shoving her recorder and clipboard into her bag. "as if you could give me a useable quote if your life depended on it."
cole scoffed. "i can't help it if your questions are boring as hell," he said. "why don't you ask me something interesting?"
"like what?" sophie asked. "what do you propose i ask you?"
"to dinner next week," cole answered immediately, his smile more of a toothy smirk, and sophie groaned, shook her head.
"i'm out," she said, taking a quick right. she made eye contact with you and sam. "i'll see you back at the house, tonight, girls?"
you both nodded, called out your agreement and goodbye.
when sophie was out of earshot, trevor clapped cole on the shoulder. "don't you get tired of striking out, coley?" he asked.
"you don't seem to, trev," luke observed, to which jack let out a laugh.
"hey, i got a single out of today," trevor argued. no one seemed to view that as the victory that he did.
cole and trevor eventually peeled off to the athlete's dining hall to get lunch, while luke walked back to the row with the group of you, saying something about grabbing a shirt from quinn's room.
when you all made it back, standing in front of the tke house, jack reluctantly retracted his arm from your shoulders. you felt cold without it.
luke headed up to the door.
"luke, tell quinn i say hi, would you?" sam asked, to which he gave some confused confirmation, before disappearing into the house. sam then turned to alex. "a pleasure, as always, al," she said, barely sparing him a second glance.
"yeah, bye?" alex said, almost a question, obviously wary of sam's change in pace.
jack touched your hand, pulled your gaze to his like two magnets, eliciting some kind of shield between you and the rest of the world. "thanks again for coming," he said, so soft, you could feel in your bones that he meant it.
"'course," you said, found it strange that it was entirely true. of course you would come when he called you. of course you'd indulge his every whim, when he asked so politely. "see you on friday? for dance?"
and he gave the slightest of pouts, but it drew your attention to his mouth nonetheless. made your cheeks feel hot, your heart beat fast, nonetheless. "too long, baby," he said, and you could have rolled your eyes at his boyish whine, but you never would. not when he was whining for you.
you just stayed quiet, let yourself smile, slightly. "maybe before friday, then?"
he grinned as if some plan he'd formed had turned out exactly as he'd hoped. "i'll text you," he said, giving you that fairytale smile, and you'd been told that before.
you'd been told that before, during nighttime hours that passed like slug across rain-drenched walkways. you'd been told that while in boxer shorts that weren't your own, standing in a doorframe that was practically laughing at you.
i'll text you, you'd been told, from some guy on his bed, on his phone, not quite looking at you.
and the doorframe might have cackled at how desperate you seemed, then, desperate for something you'd never get from this guy in the room you were leaving.
kick rocks, girl, the doorframe might have said, you know how many i've seen come in and out, even just this week? and you really think you're special?
but, right now, jack told you that he'd text you, and you couldn't find a doubt in your mind. you knew he would.
you proved to be right. the weekend flew by, because you were busy, yes, but also because of the near-ongoing text conversation you had fallen into with jack.
he might ask you something about the classes you were taking (besides ballroom), to which you would shyly tell him about some finance discussion you found genuinely interesting.
you might ask if he played sports at all, like his brother (he played hockey growing up, but wasn't good enough to play in college, like luke was with baseball), to which you would tell him you found it hard to believe that he could ever be not good enough at something.
and you'd believe it, too, wholeheartedly. sure, he had this ease to him, this softness, but he also seemed to possess a specific kind of eagerness, a delicious sort of hunger you felt must lead him to the things he wanted without exception.
you wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, but he had you smiling at your phone on more than one occasion, had your heart beating a little faster with every notification. he had you dreamy. it was a good look on you.
that's how he had you, just over the phone, so the feeling was amplified by a million the next monday afternoon, after class, on your walk back from the business building, as you passed the tke house. a walk you'd taken a hundred-something times over the years, but this time was different, because your name was being called out of an upstairs window.
your heart stuttered, because you recognized that voice, in its confidence, in its goofy gentleness. you stopped walking, looked up, searching for an open window.
"that you, jack?" you called back, when you found it, found him leaning out of the pane with a smile you could see from where you stood. even though you knew. even though you'd never mistake his tone for anyone else.
he gave a pout. "who else?" he asked, and it was careful, calculated, even though it was playful. like he really wanted to know who else you thought would call your name from a window. like he really wanted to be the only one.
"oh, no one," you assured him, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again, towards your house, "you're my only romeo." you'd meant it in a joking way, but you could tell the first three words were the ones that mattered to him. the ones that would echo in his head. you're my only.
this made him light up, made him glow like a disco ball in a middle school gymnasium. "look so pretty today, baby!" he said, in response, before the distance between you grew so stark.
you flushed, wanted to feel the word pretty from his mouth against your neck, wanted to swallow it down. but you just smiled. "only today?" you asked, wondered where this confidence had come from, tried to imagine you saying that to anyone else. you couldn't.
"come back tomorrow, just to check!" he called out after you, making you shake your head, look down at your feet.
you weren't even back to your front door yet before your phone buzzed. not just today, he'd texted you.
i knew what you meant :), you sent back.
just didn't want you to think differently, he replied, followed by spend a scary amount of time thinking about how pretty you are.
the following day, you'd be lying if you said a smile didn't bloom across your face as you walked back after class, as you approached the tke house. maybe it was some pavlov response, but it was probably because you recognized the figure sitting on the window pane on the top floor, swinging his legs, just looking out, like he was on the top of a pirate ship.
you smiled, but your pulse stuttered, a bit. "jack?" you asked, although of course you knew it was him, that perfect facial structure, shag of soft hair. "is it safe up there?"
his gaze fixed on you, alight with flame and amusement. "worried 'bout me, baby?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but something in you twitched, because you were, actually. when did that happen?
"why're you hanging outta your window?" you asked, because you didn't need to tell him that you cared that much about him, not yet. you barely wanted to admit it to yourself, even.
he seemed to take your deflection as confirmation, anyways, to see right through you, as he typically did. his grin ticked up, a beautiful combination of a bashful blush and confident smile. he pushed his hair from his face. "knew you'd be walkin' by," he said, swung his feet up and back gently. "had to catch you."
you swallowed, ran your palms along the straps of your backpack in delighted disbelief. "you were waiting for me to walk by?" you asked, still not quite understanding.
he only nodded, tilted his head, gave the softest of smirks. it was almost too much. "don't you know you've got me waitin' by the phone, baby?" he asked, melodic. it was almost like he was making fun of you, with that teasing tone, but you knew in your heart that he wasn't. that he would never.
cherry-blossom pink bloomed across the bridge of your nose as his confession registered in your mind. the thought of him throughout his day, acutely aware of his phone in his pocket, his heart racing at every buzz, like yours did. "bein' so patient, are you?" you asked, the words smooth and drowsy in your throat, like cough syrup.
he hummed, swung a leg back over the pane, starting to shift his body back inside. "'m here when you need me, baby," he said, matter-of-fact, absolute. his gaze sharpened, the temperature of it rising to a scorch you felt like a slap. "or when you want me."
it was something sort of breathtaking, how honest he was with you, from the beginning. how he seemed perfectly content just waiting for you to come to terms with the attraction you felt so deeply. the attraction he could see in your eyes, in your breath, in your words.
you were scared, though, because this was the before part. and the guys you'd had before had appeared genuinely interested during the before part, too. it was the after part you were concerned about.
because what if he lost interest as soon as he had you, like the other guys did? he seemed so different, and so genuine, and sure, you'd never thought anyone to be as beautiful as him, but what if he wasn't different? what if he left you, too, standing alone, dumb, a desperate fool?
how many times had a beautiful trick forced your hand? you shivered at the thought, but the romantic in you wanted to believe. in yourself, in him. she wanted to believe in the love story between the beautiful trick and the desperate fool. she needed to.
the following day, perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, as you approached tke house on your walk back, to recognize jack's familiar figure in his front yard. he appeared to be making progress closer to you, day by day, from inside his room, to outside his window, to now, just next to the sidewalk.
the scene you approached wasn't necessarily a rare one, not on the row, but it might appear odd to an outsider. a few of the brothers, some that you recognized, were sitting on a couch that they had obviously moved from inside, while a couple others, jack included, were lounging on adirondack chairs. most of them had computers out, doing work, or something like it. and, of course, because it was a sunny afternoon, all of them, save for one, were bare-chested.
you weren't especially sensitive or judgmental when it came to that sort of thing, but, as you got closer, you found your cheeks growing hot, anyways. you were embarrassed like a kid, like you'd been caught with something forbidden, and you might've walked right by the house, avoiding eye contact, if jack hadn't made that impossible.
"tryna sneak by, baby?" he called out from his chair, teasing, his posture so distractingly relaxed, knees spread wide. he waved you over with a knowing smile. "c'mere," he said, but not like a demand. like a request, sweet-sounding from his full mouth.
and you'd do just about anything he asked, so of course you exhaled, turned on your foot, walked nervously from the sidewalk onto the lawn, over to his chair. you nodded your hello to nico, on the couch, on your way, finally stilled in front of jack's chair.
your heart was pounding, your palms felt damp. he'd called you baby, in front of all of his friends, like you weren't something to hide. the opposite, actually, like you were something to show off, someone to be proud of. he looked at you like you were worth something, and he looked so beautiful, drenched in sunlight, so stunning that your throat felt tight.
"hi," you said, internally smacked yourself at how lame you sounded, how dumb.
"hi," jack parroted, his smile growing as he shut his computer, set it down on the ground next to him. you suspected he could probably feel your nerves, your distraction. you suspected he was delighted in it. and that made you feel a bit better, at least. to be his delight, for the moment being. "you know quinn, right?"
you turned your eyes to the chair next to jack, to a face you recognized, the only one in the yard wearing a shirt. "yeah," you answered, giving quinn a small nod, which he returned. "hey, quinn."
the older brother gave you a small smile. "hey," he replied, "heard your sam's been askin' about me."
you laughed, twisted the sole of your sneaker into the grass slowly. "she has," you confirmed, although you highly doubted her interest was genuine. "very recently, at least."
quinn just laughed, gave a slight shake of his head before turning back to his computer. he knew something you didn't, you could tell, but you couldn't focus on that, right now, not when jack's voice called you back from your curious state.
"wanna sit?" he asked, spreading his legs wider as if to make room for you. you scrunched up your nose, slightly, in thought.
"you're not busy?" you asked, sort of shaky, shifting on your feet.
he shook his head, gave his thigh a soft pat in invitation. "wanna hear about your day," he said, and you could have swooned.
you set down your backpack next to his laptop, on the grass, let him pull you onto his lap. you settled into his chest, crossed your feet over the far armrest, rested your hands in your own lap as he draped a heavy arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.
you tried not to ruminate too hard on how warm he was, how his bare skin seemed to spark against you like an electric shock. jesus, had you ever been so awkward?
"nervous, eh?"
you looked up at him, found his smile lazy but his eyes attentive, almost concerned. you nodded, because who could lie to those eyes? "you make me nervous," you said, plainly, because it was true.
he fixed you with that starry gaze, his mouth dipping slightly into something like relief. you were confused, your brow furrowing as he took your hand in his free one, brought your fingers up to his neck, just below his ear. he pressed your index and middle finger into his soft skin until you could feel his pulse, until it vibrated through you.
until you could feel just how fast his heart was beating. you felt molten, all over, like day-old valentine's day chocolate over a flame.
you rubbed careful circles into his neck, as if to soothe the underlying pace. "like you just ran up the stairs," you said, and it came out like a whisper. jack just huffed a laugh, let his hand fall to the top of your legs. there was something mesmerizing in his eyes when he looked at you, then. "thank you," you added, a breath.
"make me nervous, too, baby," he said, so soft only you could hear. his mouth twisted into a teasing grin. "'m just better at hidin' it."
you rolled your eyes, but relaxed deeper into him, all the same, leaning your head back on his extended arm, shifting across his lap. "guess 'll have to get better at it, then," you said, a small smile on your face.
he just shook his head. "hope you don't," he told you. "hope you never hide from me."
your tongue felt too big for your mouth, then, so you just asked about his day, told him about yours, felt yourself grow more and more comfortable with each passing second, as the sun peeled across the sky like a sweet orange. you had homework to do, but you lost track of time, talking with him about everything and nothing, about nonsense and significance. you found yourself hanging off of his words like they were his lips, found yourself laughing so genuinely and sharing more with him than you had with a new person in a long, long time.
his laugh rang in your head like church bells. everything he said to you felt like a secret, like something just between the two of you. people moved to and from the lawn as you spoke, as you listened, but neither of you seemed to notice. the hours melted away in moments.
"jesus, there you are," came a loud voice from the sidewalk, pulling you from your bubble. you turned, found sam, a hand on her hip, looking right at you. "would it kill you to answer your phone?"
guilt bloomed in your chest. you hadn't thought to check your phone in what must have been an eternity. you quickly picked yourself up from jack's lap to grab it from your bag, caught a glimpse of his pout, which made your stomach flip. you scrolled through your notifications, winced at the texts you'd missed, mostly sam asking where you were. "i'm sorry," you said, looking up at her, and you meant it.
sam didn't hold grudges, though, had better things to do. it was one of the things you loved about her. so she just waved you off, approached you where you knelt next to your phone. she tilted her chin up at jack in greeting before noticing his brother. "'sup, quinn," she said, pushing her glasses to the top of her head. "didn't get the tarps-off memo, did you?"
quinn looked up, smiled right back at her. his gaze darted to the front door of the house and back in a second, almost undetectable, but you noticed it, noticed quinn's grin grow almost devious. "sorry to disappoint, sammy," he said, emphasis heavy on the nickname, his eyes settling on the door again. he coughed, nodded his head. "hey, uh, alex."
you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, shared a look with jack, who touched your shoulder lightly. just to say are you getting this? just to say i'm right here with you. as if you'd forget.
sam spun around to face alex, who stood on the front steps, hands in the pockets of his shorts. he wasn't looking at sam, though. he was glaring daggers at quinn, who was acting oblivious, practically humming contently in his seat.
"excuse me?" sam's voice was pitched. "what the hell are you wearing?"
your eyes widened as you registered the front of alex's t-shirt. it was a pretty pale yellow, with some bid day slogan on it, over three identical triangles. alex was wearing something tri delt.
you felt jack lean forward, his mouth right by your ear. "that from this year's bid day?" he asked. you nodded slowly, so as to let the scene unfold in front of you without disruption.
alex just looked down at his shirt, shrugged, appeared to be the picture of confidence, even arrogance. "what's the big deal?"
sam rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. "tri delt, al, really?" sam sighed, then began to pull at the sleeves of her own sweatshirt, tug it over her head. of course, she was wearing only a bra underneath. of course, she didn't care.
quinn laughed, let out a whistle.
jack's laugh shook through you as he leaned forward, rested his forehead on your shoulder blade. you grinned at the intimacy of it, of letting him hide his laugh in you.
sam exhaled again, her sweatshirt now in her hand, which she extended to alex as she fixed her glasses. "here," she said, impatient.
alex narrowed his eyes, took the blue mass of fabric, pulled it over his head.
sam didn't wait to see him put it on, like she didn't need to check, instead turning on her heel, in pajama pants and pretty much nothing else, and began to walk back towards the a phi house. she gestured your way, "let's go, you," she ordered.
you scurried to grab your bag, pushed up on your feet, touched your fingers to jack's chin, lightly, before making to follow her. "movie tomorrow?" you asked, emboldened by hours of comfort, of being made to feel comfortable.
"yes, please," jack said, and the way he smiled up at you was something of dreams. "i'll text you, yeah?" you nodded, turned to run after your roommate.
"pleasure as always, madam president," nico called out from the couch, to which sam scoffed.
you caught up with her, hugged her into your side. "feeling feisty, eh?" you asked.
"tri delt," she said, biting, "what a moron, honestly. who does he think he is?"
you laughed. "i don't think he's thinking about anyone in tri delt, right now," you tried.
"and don't think we're not talking about you," she said, wagging a warning finger at you, "disappearing for hours, just for me to find you in the lap of a," she gasped dramatically, for emphasis, "frat boy!"
and you did talk about it, later, in the comfort of your room. you talked about jack, and how special he made you feel, and how patient he was with you, and how different he seemed.
and you talked about how scared you were, how you were so worried that as soon as you gave him any more of you, he'd take it all and run like blue and red flashed in the rearview. how you were more scared now, probably than ever before, because of how ready you were to give him whatever he wanted, and after such a short time of knowing him, too. to give him all of you, if he asked.
or, at least, to give him enough of you that, if he did run, he would leave nothing left.
sam listened, and asked questions, and talked for a long while, but the gist of it was that sometimes good things are scary. sometimes to be scared is to care, and sometimes to care is to be human.
"jesus, just look at me," she said, "make a fool out of myself on the daily for that scumbag, and look where it gets me." she sighed. "minus one sweatshirt and plus one poor boy calling me sammy."
you laughed. "you're a lot of things," you mused, "but you're no fool."
unlike you, foolish one, some voice in your head taunted, low and mean. your nose twitched.
sam hummed. "so, i should be out of the room tomorrow night?"
you groaned, hung your head in your hands. "it's a terrible idea, right?" you asked. "of course he's going to think something specific when i asked him to watch a movie at my place, hm?"
she just laughed at your anguish, put her hands up in surrender. "hey, you asked him," she pointed out. "not like he snapped you u up? at three a.m."
you scrunched up your nose. "i guess," you said.
"you make the rules," sam reminded you, "you set the pace." she fixed you with a look. "but you seem to like the fast track, love." she gestured to her cheeks. "you're glowing with it."
and maybe she was right. but you didn't feel like you were glowing, the following night, the night jack was supposed to come over.
you'd fussed over your hair and your clothes and your general being, made and remade your bed, folded all the clothes in your closet, as if he would be doing a thorough inspection.
you felt scattered, scared, so devastatingly nervous. you caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, almost flinched at the lack of confidence you found, the physical embodiment of anxiety. it seemed to web under your eyes like spiders, seemed to coat your skin like dull plaster.
it was sort of odd you felt so anxious, you thought, because you trusted jack. you trusted him so much, so truly. brutal memories had your sense of security all twisted around, though. at the moment, you couldn't quite grasp his lips against your temple, you couldn't tangibly touch his kind smile, didn't have the echo of his reassuring words in your ear.
you just felt crazy. crazy for wanting to trust him, somehow even more crazy for not being able to just let go. how badly you wanted to let go of the past, of your insecurities, of your fears.
it was almost like you were being pulled between two realties. you felt the stretch in the lines on your palms, in the seam of your mouth, in your breastbone. it was a pull between the kind of fear you found some deranged sort of certainty in and the future, what could be, what you could almost taste, if you'd just let yourself relax. if you'd only let yourself enjoy it.
why do you have to remember every embarrassment and failure? some voice in your head screamed, why can't you just be normal? you swallowed around your sadness, because he'd probably want someone normal, right? he probably wouldn't want you.
as if summoned by your despair, your attention was pulled upwards by a knock on your window, a few quick raps. you squinted, were shocked to find jack's pretty face on the other side of the glass.
you lived on the first floor, so it wasn't necessarily unsafe, or anything, but the front door was right there, and he was early. he was early, and you looked like a mess, felt like an even bigger one.
still, you walked over to the window, pulled it open. "what're you doing?" you asked, cleared your throat to hide the shake in your voice.
his blue eyes flashed with something like recognition, gone again in a moment. "am i too early?" he asked, like some impatient kid on christmas morning. "i can wait by the front door for another hour, if you want." you could have sighed in his voice, this specific tone that calmed you like lavender, the one that was almost making fun of you, but not quite.
even in your chaotically disorganized state, you just left the window open, stepped back. "'course you can come in now," you said, welcoming him in. you gave him a bit of a laugh, but it sounded kind of sad as it came out. "'m sorry about all this," you said, giving a rough gesture to your room, yourself, as you sat at the foot of your bed. "i'd probably have fixed it by the time you were supposed to get here."
he climbed into your room, and the sight was so intimate it made your chest contract. when he looked up at you, confusion dripped down his gaze like candle wax. "what do you mean?" he asked, coming to sit next to you, warm and easy. "fix what?"
you gave him a half-smile, genuinely believed he was just being polite. "i know i look crazy," you said, running your fingertips under your eyes. "i feel crazy."
his eyes filled with kind concern, not pity, but just care. he tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you into his chest in an embrace that felt like a midday nap, exactly what you needed. "then i'm happy i couldn't stay away, crazy girl," he said, and it was so soft it hurt. "tell me." a request, only because he wanted to know. he wanted to know you.
and, after a sigh, you did tell him, just as you'd told sam. you told him about how scared you were, about how you could feel how he was different, how you knew it like some philosophical principle, but how you were terrified, anyways.
you told him about how dumb, how juvenile and stupid you'd felt, over and over again, just for wanting to be taken seriously, just for wanting someone to deem you worthy of something longer than a night. just for wanting someone to stay. you told him about how you'd had people be so sweet and kind and caring, but they'd still left after they'd gotten what they'd wanted.
and you sort of felt pathetic as you spoke, and you half expected him to laugh, to tell you that you were like every other girl, expecting un-promised things from some poor guy. but, of course, he didn't. of course, he just held you to his chest, listened to you the entire time, his thumb rubbing circles into your upper arm.
"i don't want you to think that i think you're a bad guy," you made sure to say, looking up at him, "and i don't want you to think that i don't care about your life, and your anxieties, and stuff, just because i'm rambling about mine." you let your eyes flood with everything you were feeling. "but i also don't want you to think i'm disinterested, or bored, or something."
he hummed, and it was quiet, for a moment, as your words rolled around his head. "what do you want me to think, then?" he asked, finally, gently.
you leaned your head on his shoulder, thought for a second. "i want you to know that i'm into you," you landed on, and the truth tasted sweet on your tongue. "and i want to ask you to keep being patient with me, please." your mouth quirked up. "like you already are, i guess."
his smile was something dreamy before he pressed his lips to your hair. "how about this?" he said, a murmur, "how about you let me try to convince you i'm staying, hm? trust me to?"
you found yourself nodding.
"and if you want something, you just ask me, okay, baby?" he amended. "ask me, and i'll be here. promise."
you looked up at him through your lashes. "thank you," you breathed, after a pause, because a promise was something special. him being so soft with you was something special, too.
he gave a slight shrug, his smile almost a smirk. "you told me you're into me, baby," he said, like that explained everything.
you just laughed into his shoulder, felt fear melt away, dissolve into the air. "what did you come over for, again?" you joked, because you were supposed to be watching a movie, and instead you'd unloaded all this information on him. instead, you'd told him how you felt.
but he didn't seem to hear the joke in your tone. "to see you," he said, simply, making you flush.
eventually, you watched the second scream movie, which was your favorite, and you asked about his day, and you continued to add to the filing cabinet of information about jack that existed in your mind. eventually, the dim light and night air made your words slow and your eyes droopy. eventually, the two of you fell asleep.
when your eyes fluttered awake, sunlight poured in through your curtains like flour through a sieve. your limbs felt stiff, your neck tight, having fallen asleep in an awkward position, but your head was clear, not foggy at all. you'd slept scarily well.
a slight shift on your mattress drew your attention, and your eyes widened when you registered jack, still asleep, still in the clothes he'd come in last night. you looked around to find your laptop on the floor, jack's sweatshirt halfway off the side of the bed.
checking your phone for the time, you mouthed a curse, because you were already late for your eight a.m. you must have forgotten to set your alarm for this morning. admittedly, you had been awfully busy last night, in a comfortable sort of way. you'd had much more important things on your mind than today's lecture, namely the way jack's voice grew rougher as the hours passed. namely, how he shared things with you like he trusted you with everything, like he knew you'd take care of him.
you silently rose, crept to the bathroom to brush your teeth and quickly get ready. when you emerged again, you were relieved to find his eyes still closed.
he looked so peaceful, like this, so blissful, almost angelic. the morning sun settled on his face, the crown of his head like a halo, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.
as you pulled on a different shirt and shorts, you couldn't help the small smile that stretched across your face. because, you remembered, you'd told him everything, and he had stayed. when you looked over at him, he didn't disappear. he was really, genuinely there, and had felt comfortable enough in your bed, in your space, to fall asleep with his arm under your neck, with his knee grazing your hip.
only when you picked up your backpack did he stir, reaching a hand to rub over his face, stretching with a groan that made you blush. when he retracted his hand, resting it up against your headboard, his sleepy gaze found yours. he smiled, an instinct, a compulsion. you smiled back. "tryna sneak out on me?" he said, yawning halfway through.
you approached the side of the bed he was laying on, by your nightstand, bent down and sat back on your heels so you were close to eye level with him. "no," you told him, honestly. you pushed his hair back from his face, and he hummed at your touch, eyes drowsy, getting used to the light from the window. perhaps still getting used to the light of you. "just didn't want to wake you."
he exhaled, and you felt the heat of it on your arm. "going to class?" he asked.
you nodded, smiled. "but i'll see you later, maybe?" you asked, hopeful. "i'll text you?"
"please," was his reply.
before you pushed up from your knees, though, you bit your lip with indecision. "jack," you began.
"yeah, baby?" he asked, almost confused, certainly intrigued.
"remember when you said to tell you when i want something?" you tone had grown cautious.
"'course," he said, reaching a hand forward, under your chin, to keep your eyes trained on his.
you swallowed, shifted. "i want something."
he smiled, shy, in a flash of teeth, just so, so pleased. "anything," he answered, sleep now gone from his gaze, replaced with something sharper, something beautiful. "anything." he said it like a plea.
you breathed out, searched his eyes, then leaned forward slowly, pressed your lips gently to his. only for a second, soft as anything, barely there, before making to pull away again.
then his broad hand was on the side of your face, though, guiding you back to his mouth, this time harder in commitment but not in force. the positioning was kind of awkward, with him propped up on his elbow, and he tasted a little bitter from the morning, and your heart felt like it was buzzing, but it was perfect. it was perfect, all of it, because it was with him.
no running away, his kiss seemed to scream at you, not from me.
you hoped he could sense your promise by the way you reached an arm around his neck, by the way you relaxed into his mouth, practically a sigh of relief.
he felt like lazy laundry days and laughing in the kitchen and pinkie promises. he smelled like worn-out cologne from the night before. he felt like trust, and belief, and something meaningful. he felt like something, someone, you could get used to. someone you wanted to, at least.
you both pulled away, at some point, only just barely, enough to catch your breath. you ran your nails along the nape of his neck, watched his glossy gaze settle on you.
"'m really gonna be late, now," you said, dumb, but you didn't really care. you had greater things to care about, it seemed.
he laughed, and you felt it in your fingers. "they're lucky they're getting you at all," he said, and it was a rasp. his smile grew lopsided. "or maybe 'm the lucky one."
you gave a slight shake of your head. he just said these kinds of things, and he didn't think about how they'd make your vision spin. how terribly inconsiderate. "i'll see you later?" you clarified, giving his shoulder a squeeze before getting up, lugging your backpack on.
he nodded, still a bit dazed, it seemed.
the thought made you smile. "bye, jack," you said, on your way out.
"bye, baby," he called out after you, a sing-song. you could hear the happiness leaking from his voice, could almost taste it.
time passed quickly and blissfully, from there. the semester began to rush forward in a flurry of classes and chapter meetings and philanthropy obligations, all which were cut with movie nights with jack in your room, nights on which he slept over more often than not (you swore every time he came over he stole a different sweatshirt of yours. your closet was starting to look scarce, but whenever you saw him push the too-tight sleeves up on his forearms, you couldn't find it in yourself to mind), dance class on friday afternoons (you didn't know how someone could be so tragically terrible at ballroom as you seemed to be, but you looked forward to it, all the same), parties at tke on the weekends (you grew to know his friends and brothers and their girlfriends, grew to be a part of their little world).
tonight was one of those parties, and you were in your room, trying to figure out what you were going to wear, before sam burst in the door.
"we're not going," she said, plain and simple, sitting on her bed.
you looked at her with a raised brow. "why not?" your eyes widened. "what did alex do?"
she rolled her eyes. "it's not alex," she explained. "i told nico no more bros and hoes bullshit a long time ago, and he didn't listen." she shook her head, as if disappointed. "what is the theme, if not golf bros and tennis club hoes?"
you gave a light laugh. "so we're actually not going?"
"nope," sam declared, "already put it in the chat. a phi is boycotting."
as if on cue, you received a text from jack that read coming tonight?
haven't you heard, you sent back, a phi is on strike :)
you accepted his almost instantaneous face-time request, grinning as his pretty features filled your screen. "what do you mean you're on strike?" was his immediate question.
"hi to you, too, jack," you teased, your stomach flipping when his eyes filled with something soft.
"hi, baby, 'm sorry," he amended, and his voice was genuine.
you waved his apology off lightheartedly. "i'm under strict presidential orders," you told him, "apparently nico didn't heed the warning about the bros and hoes thing."
jack groaned, then looked away from the screen for a second. "they're not coming," he called out to someone, "like, actually, all of a phi is not coming."
"and we're not budging!" sam called out from her bed.
"is that sam?" came another voice from jack's end. "put her on."
and so the phones were passed to alex and sam, respectively.
"c'mon, sam," alex said, the most emotion you'd heard from him in a while. "you guys need to come out. we need you there."
it was true, sort of. they needed girls there, and a phi was plentiful with pretty smiles and kind laughs.
"no can do, al," sam said, smug. "tke needs to learn their lesson."
alex blinked.
"will you put nico on, please?" sam asked, syrupy sweet. "i have some choice words for him."
"no, you can't talk to nico," alex responded, short.
"what's the deal, madam?" came a very nico-sounding voice, off screen. "it's a good theme, eh? think you'd look great in a tennis skirt."
you rolled your eyes.
"what, won't let him talk without his lawyer present?" sam pressed.
jack's laugh was bright. you felt it through the screen.
"he can talk to you when he puts a shirt on," was the curt response.
you smirked. alex was not doing a very good job of shielding his emotions, not anymore.
"you know me better than that, don't you?" sam asked, almost offended. "not one to get distracted easily by a bare chest."
alex sighed, rubbed a hand over his face.
"are you saying you get distracted by nico's abs, al?" sam continued. "i mean, i get it, even if i can't relate personally."
"you're not talking to him, sam," alex said. "our theme for tonight is not up for debate. it's too late."
sam gave a dramatic sigh, appeared deep in thought.
"well, can i talk to quinn, then?" sam said. "not for any reason, really, just want to see his face."
you bit your lip out of frame, smiled, because you had a feeling jack was doing something similar. you had a feeling that if you were in the same room, right now, you'd be sharing a knowing glance, a hidden laugh. you felt warm with that knowledge.
"quinn's busy," alex bit out. you could almost hear his grinding teeth.
sam just gave a theatrical pout that had you giggling.
"shame," sam said, a winning smile on her face.
you heard alex's deep exhale. "you're killing me, here, beautiful," he said, a sigh. your eyes widened. was alex finally breaking?
sam just hummed. "'s that my sweatshirt you're wearing, al?" she asked. "color looks nice on you."
then she handed the phone back to you, walked from the room, and when you looked down at the screen, alex was gone, too, leaving only the soft slope of jack's nose, messy hair in his face. "hi," you said, a smile bubbling free.
"hi," he parroted. "if you're not coming, then, what're you doing tonight?"
you shrugged. "probably just watching a movie here," you said. "nothing crazy."
his nose twitched, his eyes shone with an unasked question.
"wanna join?" you asked, loving the way his face lit up at your invitation.
he sucked on his teeth, and your stomach coiled with heat at the sight. "think 'm technically supposed to be here," he said, to which you pouted. "but i might be able to sneak out."
"sneak outta your own party?" you asked, a light laugh on your mouth like a sparkly gloss.
"for you," he added, which made your laugh settle into something dangerous.
you scrunched up your face in delight. "'ll leave my window open, then," you said.
"thank you, baby," he said, waited for you to hang up first.
you did leave your window open, let the cool nighttime breeze ease in, blowing your curtains slightly, the edges of your sheets by your feet. you were comfortably on your side, your mind quiet as your eyes lazily took in your computer screen.
the tassels on your drapes seemed to sing at jack's knock on the window pane. the fixtures in your room seemed to relax, the wood of your desk turning malleable, the light on the ceiling to burn hotter, dimmer.
play it cool, you wanted to shush them, the way you whisper to your friends in middle school when your crush walks past your locker, just act normal.
your smile crept up on you, slow and genuine, as he swung his other leg over, shut the window again, immediately kicking off his sneakers and collapsing on top of you, the weight of him almost oppressive against your chest, your face.
you laughed nonetheless, wrapped your arms around his middle to hug him closer, to breathe him in. you felt his neck relax, his heavy head hang just above your shoulder. he let out a breath, like he was exhaling everything heavy. like he was making space for you in his lungs, in his chest, in his being.
you rubbed gentle circles into his back over his sweatshirt. "successful jailbreak?" you murmured, your voice muffled into his chest.
he pressed his lips to your shoulder, gently, before rolling off of you, soft as anything but sparking heat between the two of you nonetheless. "you've made a fugitive out of me," he joked, laying an arm over your torso and pulling you into his side.
"sure they won't be missing you?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face. his eyes simmered with something lovely.
he gave a shrug you felt through your whole body. "if i was there, i'd be missin' you," he clarified in explanation. of course, your heart stuttered like a shy kid giving a speech at an all-school assembly.
"i'm glad you're here," you said, soft, the words not feeling like nearly enough. you hooked one leg around his, tangling the two of you further, then rethought your action.
because you'd known guys who'd groan at this kind of thing from you, who would warn you not to start something you couldn't finish, who would call you a tease or something much meaner.
but, of course, jack did no such thing. he just relaxed deeper into the position, nodded towards your abandoned computer. "what're we watching?" he asked.
you swallowed. it struck you as weird, that his endless patience and kindness sparked something hot in your stomach, that you wanted to give him anything and everything, all because he would never demand it of you.
his hand on your back suddenly felt heavy, his leg under yours too warm. you hummed, tilted your head up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
you could feel him smile against your lips. "what's that for, baby?" he asked, rough.
"for you," you answered, simply.
you felt his pleased exhale in your bones as he took your chin in his hand, led your mouth to his in a deeper kiss, this time, one that felt like coffee mugs with lipstick on the rim, like good morning texts before you wake up, like burning fireplaces in the winter, fragrant and lively. "so sweet for me, baby," he mumbled against your mouth.
you sighed, ran your fingertips along his jaw, found courage in the blue of his eyes that willed your nerves away. "can i have something, please?"
"anything," he answered, softly, immediately, as he always had.
you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, wondering what you were actually asking for. "i just want," you started, uncertain, then started again. "just-"
you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale, reaching an arm around his neck, shifted your body until you were on top of him, kissed him with something feverish in your veins. he let out some kind of whimper-ish sound, so strained, so desperate, as his hand found your hips, held you to him with intention.
you kissed him like you were burning, like you needed him to taste the flame of your want, like your desire was some burden you couldn't possibly shoulder alone.
he didn't seem to mind, anyways, quite the opposite - he kissed you back like he'd take anything you'd give him, like the fire you were exuding was water in a drought, like you were some fabled savior. like you were saving him.
you pulled gently at the hem of his pink sweatshirt, or yours, rather, withdrew slightly to help him tug it off. he was so beautiful, always, but especially now, glowing in the light of your bedroom, flushed entirely because of you, eyelids heavy with attraction.
you stilled, straddling his hips, his back against your headboard as you traced the veins in his arms with your fingertips.
his thumbs slipped under your sleep shorts, rubbed feather-light circles into the flesh of your hips. "tell me what you need, baby," he said. "whatever you want, swear it."
you bit your lip to dull your smile, because you realized, in that moment, that there was no semblance of fear in your mind. not even a drop of doubt. you knew, that no matter what you gave to him, no matter how much of yourself you offered up, he wouldn't leave you, dumb and ashamed, standing alone in some taunting doorway. he'd stay.
the fact made unfiltered want flow through you, powerful as a river after heavy rain.
you met his gaze with a confidence that hadn't been there in a long time, that he seemed to pull from you with ease. you rocked your hips against his lap, relished in the strain you saw in his eyes. "wanna feel you inside me," you rasped, continuing to shift back and forth. "wanna make you feel good, hm?"
you felt his groan in your teeth as he flipped you on your back in a single, swift motion, left messy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. he didn't saw anything about how long he'd been waiting, about how long you'd made him wait, and you had a feeling it was because he genuinely didn't care.
you had a feeling the only thing he cared about, in this current moment, was the feeling of your collarbone under his teeth, the way your hands rooted in the curls of his hair, the not-nearly-enough friction of his grinding hips against yours.
you both twisted and tugged clothes aside, hurried, almost crazed, until you could take him in your palm, hard and hot, run your grip up and down his length, urging a groan from his throat that you wanted to taste. his exhales were so, so labored as his hips jerked towards you involuntarily.
your eyes widened, because you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be with someone like this, to be with someone whom you trusted entirely, someone whose pleasure you could feel as deeply as if it was your own. it made your blood feel volcanic as it beat from your heart.
"please, jack," you begged, and his overwhelmed gaze found yours, again.
"i know, baby," he cooed, running his fingers through your folds, cursing under his breath at how wet he found you, from barely being touched. all from him. your grip around him faltered as he pushed two fingers inside of you, the stretch immediate. "i know." you cursed, shut your eyes as he thumbed your clit, making your breath feel heavy in your mouth. he retreated further. "just wanna taste you first, baby, please?"
you just nodded, perfectly happy to give him any he wanted. then his mouth was on you, his tongue slow, methodical, as you tugged at his hair, your face pinched in pleasure.
pressure coiled inside of you as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your back arch up of your bed, the friction dreamy.
the weight of him pressed your hips down, heightening the sensation, making each motion of his fingers feel like an eruption of flame, each swipe of his tongue feel monumental.
you choked out a whine of his name, pulled on his curls just a little harder, lewd, slick noises echoing in your ears. "more," you breathed, to which he groaned, rocked his hips against the bed, desperate for some kind of friction, some kind of relief. the sight had you clenching around his fingers.
"not enough?" he asked, his voice gentle, the fervor of his motions anything but. "need more, do you, pretty thing?" you nodded, whimpered a please, which had him pulling his deft fingers from you, shifting closer to you. he angled his cock to your core, held your hips down with his other hand. he hummed. "you can have it, baby."
your eyes fluttered shut as he began to push inside of you with a moan that you swore made your lampshade blush, made the conservative hangers in your closet shake their heads, disappointed. you grasped at his forearm with a reaching hand, fisted the other in your cotton sheets, the texture heightened in your palm.
you felt the stretch everywhere, half expected your bedroom to crack in half, to feel the pressure just as acutely as you did. "almost there, baby, 'atta girl," he bit out, "fuck, feel so good for me."
you whined at his words, at the feeling of him all the way inside of you, that perfect stretch that gave way to something deliriously good as he began to move and in out, slow, deep.
you felt your eyes roll back, as if in slow motion, as you dug your nails into his arm, shuddered at the sensation as he pressed your hips harder into your mattress. "'s so deep, jack, fuck," you breathed, careful as a wince.
he held the top of your headboard with a steady grip, increased his pace. when he spoke, his voice was gritty. "that okay, baby?" he asked, shifting your hips to make you more comfortable, to make the angle feel better. "how's that?"
"so good," you moaned, raw, "feel you everywhere."
and it was true. he thrust in and out of you at a mind-numbing pace, with an intensity that burned through your body. time seemed to freeze, or maybe to liquify, to flow like molten rock. to scatter into oblivion, marked in breathy pants and strained moans, desperate kisses and tired muscles instead of minutes and seconds.
at some point, he took his hand off of your headboard, brought it to his mouth, bit down, as if to stifle a groan, as if to distract himself, last longer for you.
the thought shot right to your core, made your head spin faster, that his pleasure might run so deep, because of you, that he needed a distraction from it.
you moved your hand to your clit, rubbing carefully, moaning at the stimulation, which made you clench down, grip him in a maddening kind of way.
he gave a choked moan. "fuck," he grunted. "can't, jesus, can't do it, baby, so wet for me." his voice was a tortured sort of overwhelmed as his hips sputtered, as his pace continued, harder, faster.
he made to look away from you, maybe to sink his teeth into the flesh of his hand, again, but you wouldn't let him, instead reaching up to pull his fingers to your own mouth, press them against your tongue, soothe the angry red mark that had begun to show.
you swore your mind was somewhere else, somewhere shiny, somewhere sleepy, as you felt his stomach and thighs contract, firm and wiry.
"won't last like this, pretty thing," he breathed, a slight sheen on his collarbones, his forehead, shimmery under the overhead light. "so close, baby, feel too good for me." his exhale was unsteady. "so perfect like this."
"want it," you whined, so impossibly close, yourself. "need it so bad, baby, please. want all of it." your eyes met his. "need you."
he seemed to shatter at your words, at your request, his high, warm and hazy, triggering your own, a blur of whines and pleases and his hot breath at your temple, an all-consuming wave that had your vision blurring, had you clenching down on him so tightly.
he collapsed on top of you for the second time that night, this time his skin glowy and damp, the air sticky and humid as you both let your breathing normalize again, as you let your eyes flutter open.
he rolled to your side, refusing to unclasp his arms around your back, consequently pulling you to his chest, your nose against his breastbone. you traced a hand along the top of his spine, so perfectly content, so wonderfully blissful.
with anyone else, now would be the time when the anxiety really set in. now would be the time that the furniture started to hiss at you to get out.
such anxiety was nowhere to be found, though, not now. not with him. his rough hands felt soft on your back as he shifted deeper into your bed, making himself comfortable, making you comfortable, too, in succession.
and even though you knew it, he knew you, just so, so well. "'m staying," he whispered into your hair, "long as you'll let me."
your heart was pink jello in your chest. you pressed your swollen lips to his shoulder. "i'll let you," you promised.
and so your self-proclaimed frat-boy-ban was broken, completely done away with, replaced instead by the most delicious stability.
the already fast-paced semester was made a fairytale blur by your beautiful exception, in all of his endless kindness, his unrelenting loveliness.
how many afternoons did you spend in his lap, out on his front lawn? how many nights did you fall asleep together, tangled up in each other? how many parties started with his hat backwards on his head, but ended with it on yours, instead? when did you start to leave your window open, every night? how many mornings did he surprise you with coffee, remembering your order like it mattered, simply because it was something you'd told him? how many times did his beauty and thoughtfulness surprise you, again and again?
like the time you went with him to a baseball game, an away one, this time, to support his friends and brother, when you insisted that you'd drive. you'd had to stop for gas, halfway through, gotten out of your truck, had only just stuck the nozzle in before he'd come around the side to lean against the door.
you had felt yourself raise a brow, almost confused. "sort of a one person job," you'd joked, to which he'd smiled, leaned back further against the side, just waiting with you.
like he couldn't bear to sit in the passenger seat, alone, not when you were out here, hands idle.
or like the night of your ballroom dance midterm performance, in front of an audience (an audience that included a lot of your friends). you'd stumbled halfway through the steps, nothing crazy, but certainly enough to notice. your face had grown hot, an embarrassed strawberry-milk flush.
but then, across the stage, jack had tripped over his own feet, in a way that looked pretty intentional, if you thought so yourself, as if he wanted to draw everyone's attention for a moment. as if he wanted to keep any potentially judgmental eyes off of you. he caught your knowing gaze as he pushed himself off of the floor, shot you a cheeky wink.
or, like tonight, a phi's blind date formal. this event was always a highlight of the year, at the very least always entertaining, always a good source of drama, of gossip, for a few weeks following.
planning it was a nightmare, from what sam had told you, a disorienting flurry of spreadsheets and communications with different frats and teams. typically, each house was matched with a frat and an athletic roster, and the dates were assigned from there, based on survey results and different requests.
you were excited for tonight, not nervous at all, because you'd requested jack as your date, and sam practically ran the whole thing, so you knew there would be no surprises.
for you, tonight was just a fun opportunity to dress up, to hang out with your best friends and your favorite boy.
the reveal of the dates was one of the best parts of the night. you'd be called upon to come out the door, and your date was supposed to be standing on the front step to walk you to the venue of the formal, just a few blocks away.
you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, turned to sam as you slung your clutch over your shoulder. "ready?" you asked, to which sam gave herself a spritz of perfume, nodded. you held the door for her. "did you tell me already if you requested somebody?"
she gave you a grin. "quinn," she said, simply.
you laughed. "you're gonna drive poor alex crazy," you chided.
she just shrugged. "he's driving me crazy, more like," she corrected. "all he does is bitch and moan when i mention other guys, then he wears my sweatshirt like it's all he owns, calls me beautiful, all that nonsense." she gave you a look. "i'm losing hope, love. if he doesn't make a legitimate move soon, i might go for quinn for real, just for all his trouble."
when it was your turn to open the front door, you took a breath, turned the handle, weren't surprised to find that familiar figure on the other side, pink flowers in his hand, his suit fitting him so wonderfully, his eyes softening when they caught on you.
your smile came easily, so naturally, as you approached him. he reached an arm around your middle, pulled you into his embrace by the small of your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you pressed your lips to his jaw in greeting before he pulled back.
"let me get a look at you," he said, soft, holding your hand at a distance, giving you a twirl that made you feel like a princess. he whistled. "i'm the one on your arm, tonight, pretty thing?" he asked, his smile toothy. "must be my lucky night."
you flushed with contentment, ducked into his side. "i'm the lucky one," you insisted, before the door opened again, making the two of you move to the sidewalk as he handed you your flowers, which you accepted with bashful thanks.
sam now stood in the open doorframe, but her wandering eyes narrowed when they landed on the curly-haired boy that stood on the front step. "what the hell is this about, alex?" she hissed.
"you look lovely, sam," alex said, undeterred.
"yeah, okay, thanks," sam said, "you know i requested-"
"i know," alex interrupted. "i vetoed your reuqest." he offered her his arm, which she took, lightly, reluctantly.
"that's not how this works," she reminded him, "you don't get a veto."
"i'm the president," he deadpanned, "of course i get a veto."
"i'm the president," sam retorted, "and i requested-"
alex sighed, turned to face sam, placed his palm over her mouth. "stop," he said, short, "talking."
her eyes narrowed, and jack pinched your side as you took in the sight in front of you. you shared an excited look.
"please be my date, tonight," alex asked, removing his hand from sam's face only after her mouth stopped moving. "for real."
after a brief pause, sam's mouth broke into a wide grin as she looped her arm through alex's, fell into step behind you and jack. "get up off your hands and knees, al," she teased, "'course i'll be your date. waited long enough, haven't i?"
it was a storybook sort of night from there, one defined by shared laughter and good music and gushing with your friends about their dresses.
time passed too fast in a blur of dance-floor spins that made the hem of your dress bloom, gentle touches and laughs into shoulders.
at some point, you and sam took a break by the edge of the venue, next to the refreshment table, having promised to bring jack back a drink. sophie approached you. you smiled, having not really seen her since the last chapter meeting.
"hey, sophie," you said, "this dress is stunning on you."
"thank you," sophie said, genuinely, before her eyes flashed. "if you see cole come up behind me, warn me, okay?"
"isn't cole your date, though?" sam asked.
sophie sighed. "technically, yes," she admitted, "but he thinks i requested him, which i didn't, so now he's being especially persistent."
you tilted your head. "so you got paired together because your survey results matched up? completely organically?"
"i guess," she answered, exasperated. "which i don't get, because we have, like, nothing in common."
"you have a little in common," sam said, "you both love baseball. it's, like, all you talk about."
"okay, so we have one thing in common," sophie conceded. "it's a conflict of interest! i'm supposed to be an impartial reporter!"
you shrugged. "impartiality is overrated," you said, and you meant it. now that you'd settled into being completely honest about how you felt, you couldn't imagine it any other way, couldn't fathom hiding that kind of thing from people that mattered.
"code cole, code cole," sam whispered.
"soph, you gotta stop running away from me," cole said, coming up behind her, shooting her that confident smirk. "tirin' me out, love."
sophie sighed, turned to face him, crossed her arms over her chest.
"care for a dance?" cole asked, extending his hand to her.
her gaze dipped to his fingers, then rose again. "i'll dance with you," she said, which made cole light up with excitement, "if you agree to give me at least one objectively useable quote after ever single game for the rest of the year."
cole blew out a breath like it was the easiest decision of his life. "done," he declared. he gave an enthusiastic fist pump when sophie took his hand and led him to the floor.
leaning back against the table, you and sam scanned the room, laughing at trevor's ridiculously bold suit, scoffing at nico, who was dancing with two girls at the same time, sharing a knowing glance when you registered quinn and luke, sitting at a table on the outskirts, luke's tie completely untied, quinn's tied around his head. the two loners appeared to be engaged in a game of cards with their respective dates.
eventually, you made good on your promise to jack, grabbing two drinks. when you turned your back on the table, he was walking up to you, his face pleasantly flushed, eyes so doting. your smile grew as he got closer. your eyes shut, delighted, when he threw an arm around your shoulders.
"there you are, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. you were hit with a dizzying sense of deja vu, knowing you'd been here before, knowing so much had changed since the last time you'd been in this position. "thanks for holding my drink for me."
you smiled up at him, leaning into his side, warm and firm against you. it was something magnificent, to have it not be an act, this time. to have it be completely genuine. to have it be real.
"of course, baby," you said, the slight tease in your tone made shimmery by the glint in his gaze.
he hummed, moved his arm down to wrap around your waist, pull you against him as he swayed back and forth to the music. you exhaled, so utterly at peace, relaxed into his chest, tilted your head back to look up at him. he met your gaze eagerly, that smile you so adored overtaking his face like a mural on the side of a building. "what?" he asked.
you shook your head, laughed lightly. because what, really? how could you sum it up? "you," you answered, honestly. "just you."
how could you sum him up? he was one million things. your pretend boyfriend in the face of campus security. your ballroom dance partner. your movie-night, good-morning text, sweatshirt stealer. your window-climber, baseball-watcher, owner of your favorite smile. your tke boy. your exception.
he was one million things, but, when he leaned down to press his lips to your hair, he was only one.
yours.
fin.
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author’s note: I blacked out while writing this, so it will be as much of a surprise to me when I wake up and reread it as it will to you when you read it for the first time. It wasn’t requested, just something that my brain came up with and wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished it. It’s loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s The Grudge and the movie Sweet Home Alabama (my favorite movie). Also, this is completely made up in my head and in no way reflects something that Luke Hughes has done, or will do. It’s also 2:06 AM and I can’t promise that it’s proofread very well because I can barely keep my eyes open (I worked a double today).
Warnings: cursing, ANGST, cheating, kinda sad but has a good ending. Slow beginning, but I promise it gets better!
Without further ado….
The Grudge
“Hello?”
The single word that was the catapult for the demise of your relationship. The single word that changed the course of what you pictured your future as.
Luke’s side of the call was silent, the only noise able to be heard was his breathing, heavy as if the weight of the world was crushing his lungs, deflating him of life.
He wasn’t supposed to be calling. He had told you he was having a guys week, a time for him to regroup with his brothers and friends at the lake house. It was his own little sanctuary away from the life that he had worked so hard for. A quiet place. He had asked for that time, to which you agreed, he needed a break.
“Luke? Everything ok?”
He wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone in that instance. The reality that he was about to destroy the last bit of trust that you held for him constricting him as he fought with his vocal cords, trying like hell to form some form of vocalization.
“I need to tell you something,” He managed to squeeze the words out, every bit of courage mustered into it. The feeling of facing the mistake that he had made seemed impossible compared to simply just refusing to acknowledge it. He could ignore it all, ghost you, and pretend like he had never ruined everything. He had ruined your relationship, your love. You. He had ruined you, including everything that came from the relationship the two of you developed a couple of summers before he had left to play for Michigan.
Ironic that it would begin and end during the summer.
“Ok. Are you-”
“Are you alone?”
His brothers will kill him when they find out, but your family? The thought of them being there to wipe your tears and listen to your rants that have to do with him break his heart. He had developed a special relationship with your dad, your mom always put a stocking out for him during the holiday season, your brother? He had taught your little brother how to skate, how to play hockey. Even though he couldn’t coach your little brother’s team, he had supported him since the beginning. He had bought him his first jersey. 43.
“Yeah, Luke. You’re scaring me.”
“God, I fucking hate myself. I’m so sorry,” Sobbing, the sound of his arm wiping his nose could be heard. He knew he shouldn’t cry. He chose this.
He knew he didn’t always treat you like you should have, no deserved, to be treated. He didn’t spend time with you like he should have, he didn’t tell you he loved you enough. When you yelled at him about things, he would scream back. He would never hit you, but his words cut through your core, sometimes feeling worse than what you imagined the sting of one of his slaps might feel like.
The anxiety that stemmed from Luke’s call gripped your lungs, confusion coursing through your body outweighing the blood that sucked at carrying the oxygen at the moment. There was nothing random about your relationship, he didn’t surprise you with anything, much less a phone call.
Something is wrong.
The silence was deafening, overwhelmingly so.
“I tried to tell myself that you would never find this out, but there was somebody taking pictures and I need you to hear it from me first, ok?” He closed his eyes forcing himself to find some shred of courage left inside of him.
“Ok,” The word was breathy as it left your lips, a courtesy to encourage him to continue.
“I cheated,” It flowed out of his mouth in such a casual way that it felt like somebody had stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife and watching as you writhed in pain. The taste of iron flooded your senses as you bit your cheek to hold yourself together.
“We went to one of the local bars. She was the bartender, she knew us. Trevor invited her to the house after her shift and me and her ended up alone together while the others were out back and one thing led to another…one of the guys took a picture and posted it on their story. They forgot about you.” He tried to explain it in a way that redeemed himself. He was only 20 years old…this bartender could’ve taken advantage of him, but you knew him.
He didn’t get close to just anybody, he was the gate to his space. Nobody would get through the gate if he didn’t want them to, including this girl. Which made the bile that was building in your throat much more bitter. The fact that he not only cheated, but is trying to play victim makes you bubble with rage. Luke Hughes was very good at many things, but the one thing he had never quite mastered the role of was “victim.”
The shock coursed through your body like metal to a magnet, searching endlessly for something to smash into and deciding your heart was the place to do that. It felt like you forgot to breathe, your lungs aching for a breath.
“Y/N?” He willed you to talk, silence causing more anxiety than your anger ever would have.
“I never would have done this to you,” Your whisper spoke more volumes than a scream would have, cutting through the phone and going straight through Luke’s body. He wished you would scream at him, tell him he fucked up, but the way you said those words made him feel like this was it. He couldn’t come back from this one.
“I’m sorry,” His words were meaningless, but he spoke them nonetheless.
Those two words sent you into a silent rage, one that wrecked the inside of your mind but couldn’t be seen by anyone else. You hung up the phone, throwing it across your room and immediately packing everything that had to do with Luke into a box that you found.
Packing 4 years worth of things that you acquired from him was emotionally draining, each article triggering memories through the years.
His first Michigan Hockey sweatshirt that he had bought himself packed into the bottom of the box reminded you of the date he had planned. He had snuck the two of you into the arena when no one was there and taught you to skate, skills that still stick with you to this day. His first hoodie became yours that night, the smell of his cologne long gone from the comfort it brought you many nights when you felt lonely.
A Devils snow globe and jersey that was decorated with the number 43, his number, packed next. He had bought it for you the day he was drafted, convinced that it would be worth something one day. And it was. Just not to you anymore. The snow globe was attached to a memory that was better left forgotten. It was for your birthday, which happened to be the day after his. When you had gone all out for his 20th birthday, buying him a new custom suit and designer shoes that required months of savings, he gave you a snow globe that “you could add to your collection.” You had said some backhanded things to him, a huge fight came from that. A fight on your birthday, something else that you would’ve never done to him.
The last items consisted of hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants and boxers, and a couple of jackets. The last thing, however, was something that you didn’t know if you could part with.
It was a letter that Luke had wrote you for Valentine’s Day the second year of your relationship, a sweet surprise that you weren’t expecting with your usual bouquet of daisies and roses, your two favorite flowers.
When you doubted your relationship with Luke in the past, when arguments and fights felt like it was all it consisted of, you always found your way back to his letter. He had told you that you were his end game, that there would never be somebody else that was better suited for him. He poured his heart out in that letter, telling you that he was going to marry you one day. One day when he had made it to the NHL and could roll in money, he was going to buy a rock for your finger and a huge house for all of the babies that you talked about.
Rereading the letter normally made you remember the good times, when things were good, but under the circumstances now it made you want to burn it, to watch his words turn to ash, just like the promises he had made to you.
Meaningless. His words were meaningless now.
It wasn’t always his fault, no. There were instances where you said things that you knew hurt him, things that echoed in the back of his head every now and then. Something along the lines of him never being as good as his brothers, that he would always be in their shadow. That Luke Hughes would be known as “just another Hughes brother.”
Some days he felt like that statement couldn’t be more true, that he would never live up to the records that Quinn and Jack seemed to break every time they stepped on the ice. Some days he just couldn’t see it coming together for him.
But other days he knew he was determined to make a name for himself, for Luke. The Hughes name was a force to be reckoned with. Luke wanted to be even better than his last name. Whatever it took, sometimes at the expense of those around him.
You snatched the letter that was stuck in the corner of the mirror that perched on top of your dresser, the sound of the paper crisp beneath your fingertips. As much as you wanted to destroy the letter, you figured it would be better to send it back to Luke. He needed to see all of the promises he broke and hurt he’s caused.
The paper was the last thing in the box, folded neatly on top of everything else.
Closing the box, you carried it to your car, placing it in the backseat behind the driver’s side. If there’s one thing that could be payback to Luke, it was telling his parents. He thrived on his parent’s approval, likely a symptom of being the youngest brother of an extremely successful family.
Ellen and Jim’s faces burned the back of your mind, so many memories that consisted of the two of them. Countless games at Michigan were spent with the two of them, as well as a couple of trips to New Jersey. You had helped Ellen cook supper many times, and watched as Jim coached his sons. Ellen’s pep talks were rarely intended for you, but you always felt like something could be learned from her wisdom.
The drive was silent, muscle memory the only way you could manage to get there in the state you were in. You didn’t know if the lights were green or if you used your blinker, all you could think about was Luke admitting to cheating. All of the shit you had been through with each other, all of the petty fights, had finally come to a head. You may have gone low, below the belt at some point in time, but this? You never could have ruined him like this, no matter how bad you wanted to.
As hurt as you were, you were numb. Tears wouldn’t fall, your body still in shock over the news.
As you drove up the paved driveway to the house that had become your second home, the emotions hit you when you saw Ellen in the flower beds, digging up weeds and planting new flowers.
She had heard a car approaching, causing her to look up and recognize you. Although she loved for you to visit, you normally didn’t come over unless Luke was with you, especially now that him and Jack owned the lake house.
She wiped at the sweat that was beading her forehead, dirt from her work gloves sticking in some of her blonde locks that were glued to her face. She smiled at you, before confusion flashed and she saw that you were carrying a box.
“Hi, Doll! Luke’s not here, but I’m glad you stopped by!” Her warm tone and kind smile didn’t fade, even if she did notice something off about your demeanor.
Her voice broke you. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her and Jim into this. Maybe you should have just threw everything that connected you to Luke in a garbage can and called it a day.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She walked towards you with her arms open, noticing your quivering lips and teary eyes.
She was drenched in sweat from the summer sun, but you didn’t mind it. Dropping the box on the driveway, you allowed her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her embrace gave you comfort as sobs racked through your body. How could such a loving mom and dad create such a jack ass? They had done perfect with 2/3 of their sons…what happened with Luke?
“Do you want to go inside? Jim’s working on a sink faucet, but he won’t mind,” She ushered you inside, her hand gently pushing your back.
Nodding, you wiped your nose on your sleeve and allowed her to walk you inside. She quickly washed her hands at the sink Jim was working at, earning a few objections from him, but she hushed him and motioned to you.
His face filled with concern as he noticed something wrong with you. He could fix a lot of things, but girls was something he would leave to his wife.
The leather of the couch soothed the heat that the summer sun had left on your skin. Ellen joined, sitting next to you as she rubbed your back, calming you. She truly was like a second mom.
“Is everything ok?” She held onto your arm, the pressure from her fingers sending tingles to your brain.
“No,” You croaked, the single word rattling your throat as it struggled to exit.
“What happened?” Her voice had dropped below her regular volume, but above a whisper. She cut her eyes at Jim who was attempting to listen from the kitchen.
“He cheated…”
The shock hit his parents as hard as it did you. Quinn would never cheat, Jack? It was questionable sometimes. But they’re baby? The one that had endured the lectures from his parents the longest, the one that had seen his brother’s mistakes and learned from them, the one that seemed so in love with you that nothing could ever separate you both? It seemed nearly impossible. Surely it was a mistake.
“How do you know? The press always lies…” She trailed off, your eyes connecting to hers.
“He told me,” The strength you tried to regain from your prior meltdown was useless as your voice trembled, “…said that he wanted to tell me before somebody else did.”
“Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry,” She pulled you into her arms, watching as Jim rounded the corner to join. You were like the daughter the two of them had always wanted, so seeing you hurt killed them in return. And at the hands of their son? They were immensely disappointed. They didn’t raise him like this.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, and I probably should have left you both out of it,” Your attempts at stopping the free-flowing tears were useless, so you embraced each one as it fell, “…um, I brought his stuff back. I know he’s at the lake house, but I don’t think I can see him right now. I really wish we could have worked. You two will never know how much you and your boys mean to me.”
“Likewise, sweet girl. I wish I could make this all better. You may not feel like it right now, but our family will always hold a spot for you,” Ellen reassured, a hum of agreement resonating within Jim.
“Anytime you want, and I’m serious, our door will always be open for you. No matter the time or circumstance, do you understand?” Jim waited for you to respond, a nod of your head, before embracing you again.
Their words meant so much, but the hurt still ached, seemingly never ending.
You said your goodbyes, taking in the house that you would probably never see again. The walls holding memories that only those in the house would ever understand or appreciate.
Closing the front door felt like closing a chapter on your life. A chapter that felt like it was ending in the middle with no resolve, but it closed.
It needed to.
———
As the New Year approached, your parents reminded you of the plans they had that would draw them away from home. They claimed that they celebrated Christmas with you, but the New Year meant that you were alone in a house that felt big and lonely while they celebrated with their fellow group of middle aged parents.
The months had passed, agonizingly, since Luke’s cheating admittance. The summer turned to fall and fall into winter, getting colder like you were allowing your heart to do.
A few dates here and there did nothing but remind you that the guy wasn’t Luke. They should’ve been better than Luke since they actually treated you with respect and checked every box that a girl had.
But the lack of teasing, of being the biggest pain in your ass and best friend, made the hole in your life bigger. You were sure nothing would help, not even the texts from Ellen and Jim, periodically, made it better.
They all consisted of the same topic: “How are you doing?”
It was the same old same old, until it wasn’t. Until Ellen texted you after Christmas asking you about your plans for New Year’s Eve. The Hughes had always thrown a party for the New Year, packed to the brim with people.
When Ellen asked if you had plans, you had every intention on lying and saying yes. Saying that you had a date and that he was taking you to see the countdown and fireworks that followed, but something told you to tell the truth. So you did.
After you had admitted to her that you, in fact, would be all alone, she reached out and invitation to join them.
The invitation had toggled in your mind for a few days now. On one hand, you wanted to go see how everybody was, talk to his brothers, catch up with his friends. On the other, you wanted to stay home in your pajamas and watch Andy Cohen get shitfaced with Anderson Cooper while wondering if Luke would kiss somebody for the occasion.
The saying “curiosity killed the cat” proved to be true as you had finally decided to go, a sparkly gold dress accentuated your curves, hugging you in all of the right places, the places that Luke had once yearned for. You don’t know how, but your makeup was flawless, your eyeshadow bringing out your eyes in a way that you had never seen, but you loved it. Maybe this was revenge?
Even though you hadn’t made the drive in over 6 months, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Your nerves were working overtime, anxiety squeezing your thoughts the closer you got to the Hughes’ residence.
What if Luke had a new girlfriend? What if his parents were the only ones that wanted you there? Was this actually a good idea?
Too late now.
There was probably 25 or more cars that littered the driveway, most carrying a minimum of 2 people. It was a relief, maybe you could just blend in with the rest of them. A chameleon in the house of your ex lover.
Music blared, drifting from the backyard into the front, making the walk to the door less daunting of a task. There was no use in knocking, the sound of talking and music would most likely just drown it out, so you took a breath as you pushed the door open. It appeared to be the spot for the more mature crowd, Jim spotting you as soon as you walked in.
He was confused as to who you were at first, but as soon as you gave him a shy smile his face lit up with excitement. He had missed you more than he realized.
“Y/N! What a nice surprise! Come in, make yourself at home,” He squeezed you in a tight hug before relinquishing you.
“Y/N! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you to come, but I’m so glad you did!” Ellen squealed, the clinking of her heels against the hardwood floors becoming faster as she did her best to jog to you, embracing you like her life depended on it. It lasted a few seconds before she held you out at arms length, examining you.
“Gosh, you look absolutely stunning! That dress was made for you!” She gushed.
“Thank you! I just decided to throw something together last minute. I should have let you know I was coming, but I honestly didn’t decide until right before I got dressed,” you chuckled, explaining the lack of communication on your part.
“Honey, you do not have to explain a single thing to me! I’m just so happy you’re here!” She hugged you again, rocking you side to side.
“The kids, sorry, young adults are out back. I do have to warn you…Luke did bring a date,” As she explained the dilemma, you expected yourself to break down. When it didn’t, relief washed over you. It had been almost 7 months, why wouldn’t Luke have moved on? You couldn’t be mad at him for that part, but you still held a grudge against him for allowing you to love him as much as you did and shattering your heart in the end.
There was never another conversation between the two of you. His parents never brought him up, he had never attempted to contact you, so the resolve was the fact that you returned everything. He had nothing left connecting him to you. That was how it was supposed to be, so there was no need to communicate with you. He had gotten the message loud and clear when he had returned home to a box of his things in his old bedroom and an ass-chewing from his parents and brothers. One that he would never wish on his worst enemy.
He learned from his mistake, but felt like the very toxic situation between the two of you was better left where it was: untouched.
He had been trying to move on ever since, sleeping with any girl that reminded him of you, sneaking them out before Jack had noticed, or simply just embracing the newness of being alone. It sucked at first, but he got used to it.
Ellen’s face flushed with concern at the momentary silence that followed her statement, scared that she would scare you off with the news of her son, your ex, having a date that wasn’t you.
“Ellen, it’s ok! I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” Making light of the situation was easier to fake on the outside, but trying to convince yourself was a bit harder.
You talked to Ellen and Jim for a few more minutes, catching them up on the latest details of your life, and then grabbed a Michelob to give you some liquid courage as you walked to the backyard.
There was people dancing, circles of people talking, various games being played, the scene never-ending as your eyes scanned over them. A few people locked eyes with you, recognizing you as the ex, but most everybody just continued to do whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn’t until Quinn’s eyes softened from his party vibes to concerned big brother that you felt nerves wrack your body. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to, making his way through the small sea of people to get to you.
For a split second you wanted to run away, but the rational side of you talked you down. It was just Quinn. Quinn had done nothing to you except loved you as if you were his own sister, so why would you run?
“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you…how are you?” You immediately threw your arms around his torso, him returning the gesture, his hug similar to the way Ellen had hugged you.
“I’m good! I had no other plans and Ellen seemed like she really wanted me here…”
“Yeah, she hasn’t shut up about you,” He laughed, recalling how his mom mentions you anytime a girl was over, even one that Luke brought, and always comparing them to you when they left.
You were the standard that she held possible daughter-in-laws to, but they never lived up to you, she would admit.
“Gotta love her,” You chuckled, a slight awkward tension fell between you, a foreign, icky, awkwardness.
“That you do,” Quinn tried to repair the conversation, but some friends began to pull him away. He had mentioned to not leave before telling him bye, and then left with the group.
“Didn’t think you’d show up here,” The voice turned your blood to ice, freezing up what the beer had tried to let loose prior. No matter how many ways you envisioned this interaction to go down, nothing could have prepared you for hearing his voice after so long. It wasn’t like “nails on a chalkboard” irritating, but more along the lines when you pick a scab and it starts bleeding again.
That’s quite literally what it was. He was an old wound in your life that was becoming irritated because it was being messed with. No matter how much time had passed, it was still sensitive.
“Well, didn’t think I would be here either. It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” You turned around, met with the beautiful, curly-haired boy that was once your everything and a petit blonde that was his temporary. She was gorgeous, you’d give her that. But it wasn’t real beauty. It was bought. There’s nothing wrong with that, but her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, and push-up bra was irritating like nails on a chalkboard.
“Do you mind going to get us something to drink?” He turned to his date, giving him the empty bottle that his hand wrapped around.
“Is that a Michelob Ultra?” You almost snorted, her question a breath of fresh air in this unfortunate meeting.
“Not her and I, you and I,” Luke quickly cleared up.
She left with a smirk playing at her lips, kissing his cheek and heading inside.
“God, please let’s go somewhere else,” He grabbed your arm, tugging you to a secluded, area beside the shed out back. Your brain told you to rip your arm from his grip and scold him for thinking it was okay to ever touch you again, but your deemed in control and allow his touch to erupt butterflies in your tummy.
“I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here,” he groaned, realizing he was still holding onto you, quickly letting go.
“She seems more Jack’s type, if you ask me,” You suggested, Luke squinting his eyes at your words.
“Good thing I didn’t ask…” He may have been the reason the relationship ended, but he wasn’t going to put up with any slander that you had for his current life. The life that didn’t include you.
“Whatever, why did you bring me here?” You looked around at the spot. It had definitely been a spot where the two of you had snuck off to make out several times, escaping the teasing of his older brothers.
“To talk…” He shift his weight to his heels, his hands finding warmth in the pockets on his pants.
“Oh! To talk about you being a complete dipshit and cheating on me this past summer? Yes, let’s talk about that!” Sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom from a snake, targeting the next victim: Luke.
“I’m sorry…” Again, the empty apologies were beginning to grind at you now. You didn’t want the apologies or the excuses. You wanted him to shut up for once, hear you out, and then come up with a genuine apology. He had said his piece, now it was time for you to say yours.
“No, Luke. You’re not sorry for cheating, you’re sorry you got caught. Save the apologies for when you actually mean them,” You started, him immediately shutting up and listening.
“We were so fucking toxic. You know it, I know it. The whole world probably knows it by now. But, God, I loved you so much. I would have spent my whole life trying to fight for that stupid relationship and you turned around and threw it all away. And for what? Some temporary pleasure? You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get back to me?” Your words shot through him, like bullets hitting glass, shattering the surrounding areas. He couldn’t argue because everything that you were saying was true, but he’d be damned if he let you find satisfaction in being right.
“You said it yourself, it was toxic! You probably would’ve found a problem with me being there without you, anyway!” He tried to defend himself, but he was fanning a flame that he shouldn’t be messing with right now.
“Don’t you dare try to manipulate me into thinking your cheating was justified! Luke Hughes, I’ve said some fucked up shit throughout the years, but I never have, and never will ruin your trust. That’s the type of shit that lasts a lifetime. I can’t date anybody else because there’s always that ‘what if’ of them cheating!” Tears brimmed your eyes, softening the wall that surrounded Luke’s heart. He was a tough guy, but the sight of you hurting was a soft spot for him, an Achilles heel.
“You promised me a future, and then turned around and burned it to the ground without a second thought once you got a taste of fame,” Your finger poked at his chest hard enough for him to wince, expecting to see bruises the next morning.
“You’re a liar! A fucking liar and cheater!” Your voice broke as the words left your mouth, but Luke took the verbal beating that he deserved.
“Do you think I want to be labeled as a cheater, Y/N?! I’ve prayed for months that I’d just wake up and it not be real, that we’d still be together!”
“Awe, so sad, Luke. Truly heart wrenching!” You grabbed at your heart, feigning compassion as he began to clench his jaw, the muscle flexing as his annoyance rose. It was hot, but not hot enough for you to do anything about it.
“Stop being such a bitch, it may suit you, but it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.” His eyes grew dark, almost challenging you to see who would win in a game of insults.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to act however you deemed fit. Even if you’re a cheater…”
“I cheated, I’m not a cheater,” he tried to correct, a viscous chuckle tumbling from your mouth in response.
“I’m not! That’s the one and only time that it will ever happen, I can promise you that!” His voice rose in volume as he continued to defend himself.
“Oh, one and done Luke! How nice! My trust is fixed, so there’s nothing left to worry about!” The sound of people counting down in the background didn’t distract you.
10…9….8…
“If I’ve had anything in the past months it’s peace in knowing I don’t have to put up with your fucking nagging anymore!”
7…6…5…
“Yeah, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking some rando anymore!”
4…3…2…
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
1…
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The voices erupted behind the shed, but the whirlwind of a kiss muffled it all.
Luke eagerly pulled your face toward him, his lips colliding as intensely as a train hitting a car on the tracks. An accident waiting to happen, but there nothing that could be done about it.
It took a second or two, but you kissed back with the same passion as him, him pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall of the shed.
His lips were like home, sweet and comforting. The remnants of his vodka redbull tempting your taste buds to plunge deeper, but you didn’t, you let him set the pace.
One of his hands tilted your chin up, steadying it as the other pulled you closer from the small of your back. Every sense inside of you erupted in fireworks as his tongue tried to gain entrance into your mouth, but you stood your ground, or tried to at least.
The hand that steadied your chin found itself wrapped around your neck, the shock causing you to gasp as he gained entrance.
“Luke! I finally found something to drink, but we missed our-” The voice immediately tore the two of you apart, the fireworks over the lake and store bought pretty interrupting the fireworks that were going off inside of you. Your breathing was a little shallow as you tried to control it again.
“-kiss. What the hell.” She glanced between the two of you before storming off, her stiletto sinking into the grass as she desperately tried to remove it from her foot.
Luke groaned, but the chirping had just begun for you, “One and done, huh?”
“Me and her aren’t even dating!” He squealed.
“We’re talking about this tomorrow, Y/N. Do you understand me?” He pointed at you as he began to smooth over yet another failed attempt at dating, but he wasn’t going to reconcile that one.
“Aye aye, Captain,” You gave him a silly salute, earning an eye roll from him, but as soon as he turned away from you the smile wouldn’t disappear.
Call you crazy, but you hadn’t felt butterflies for a long time, probably since his note to you. What you felt tonight was an army of butterflies being obliterated by fireworks. The feeling of his fingers around your neck, his jaw muscle contracting, everything about him had turned you on.
Did you really fold that easily?
Oh well. The thought of the next day, the possibility of getting him back, along with his family far outweighed your pride.
He could be your Luke once more.
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