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mdemontespan1667 · 2 years

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STUPID GIRL

BLIND SPOT (3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

THE LONG WALK (1)

JANE DOE (2)

18+ ONLY

SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER

SUMMARY: YOU'RE JUST DOING YOUR JOB. TOO BAD SOMEONE DOESN'T AGREE.

(I moved the dates of this to the current year instead of 2018 so hopefully my dates match. I used what character information I could find for Walter and either filled it in with the actor's info or just winged it since no explanation was ever given for his accent. I did my best to research the neighborhoods and streets mentioned. If I made a mistake I apologize.)

SERIES WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON/GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/TORTURE/DEATH/DESCRIPTIONS OF DEAD BODIES/VAGINAL SEX/ORAL SEX/ANAL SEX/REFERENCES TO SEXUAL ASSAULT/REFERENCES TO MURDER/STALKING/CHOKING/SLAPPING

“Detective Marshall, Is this the 8th victim of the Hennepin Hatchet?”

“No comment.”

The man bristled at the name, barely concealed disdain in his expression.

You didn’t like the name any better.

Giving murderers cutesy names took the focus off the victims.

But the Press, yourself included, had to call this psycho something.

“Get out of my fucking crime scene”

“I’m not in your fucking crime scene.”

You gestured to the yellow police tape, flapping in the bitter wind, which you were currently behind, barely.

Detective Marshall grunted, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just trying to do my job. The public has a right to know if a serial killer is operating in Minneapolis.”

Crossing his arms, he fixed you with a bored stare.

“What makes you think this is serial? Prostitutes get killed all the time. Hazards of the profession.”

“You’re joking right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“All the victims were last seen in the Hennepin area, all petite blondes, all sexually assaulted, stabbed and mutilated. There’s no way in hell this isn’t the same guy.”

“No comment.”

The dark haired Detective walked away, effectively dismissing you.

“Can you confirm Madison Harper was missing her left breast?”

Turning back he lumbered toward you.

Oh shit.

Detective Marshall was a veritable bear of a man, with a rumored temper to match.

And you?

You’d just poked him, big time.

“Where did you get that information?”

“No comment,” you sassed.

Apparently you had no sense of self-preservation.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of here,” he growled, “I’m gonna have your ass arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”

“C’mon. Give me something, anything.”

You tried your best to bat your eyes.

“Officer Barton,” he shouted to a uniform, “I need you to..”

“Ok, Ok,” you threw up your hands, “I’m going.”

You stomped to your ancient, beige Subaru.

“Fucking prick.”

Driving away, you shivered, convinced the killer was just getting started.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I sincerely hope you're hitting submit as we speak.”

“I’m working on it.”

You glowered at your laptop, its blank Google Docs page taunting you.

“Uh, you know deadline’s in 3 hours?”

‘Yeah Brent, I know. I’m..I’m working on it.”

You hit the red dot, ending the call.

Brent was a great colleague, an even better friend.

SInce moving to Minneapolis a year and a half ago he was the only person you had gotten close to.

Even so, the last thing you needed right now was more pressure.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

Milton Turnbaldt, the editor of the Digital Division at the StarTribune, had finally moved you from Special Interest to the Crime Beat.

It was the next step in “THE PLAN” you’d mapped out since graduation.

Imagining yourself a modern day Helen Thomas, visions of Pulitzers had danced in your mind.

Reality had been a bit different.

Two years writing bar reviews for Bar Fly and one disastrous year at Chicago Suburban Family had been followed by a three year stint at the Chicago Sun Times, where the closest you got to reporting anything was letting Maintenance know a lightbulb was out in the Ladies room.

Getting hired at the StarTribune had seemed like a dream come true, even if you’d had to move to Minnesota.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

It was obvious this woman was the 8th victim.

Problem was every other reporter knew it, even if the cops refused to acknowledge the fact.

Your one advantage was your intuition.

The women had to have been comfortable with the killer, therefore, he was most likely good looking, charming and came off as harmless. Every victim had voluntarily left their comfort zone, something sex workers usually refused to do.

The pre- and post-mortem mutilation meant the killer felt confident enough in his surroundings to spend hours with the women, unconcerned about noise or the mess. His secondary location had to be isolated enough for his purpose but close enough to Hennepin Ave that the victims had been willing to take a chance.

Unofficial autopsy reports on each victim listed copious amounts of lube found in the vaginal and anal cavities. It wasn’t unusual for sex workers to use lube but this seemed excessive. The ME had attributed the internal micro-tears and bruising to the sexual assault. That, coupled with the lube, had you leaning in a different direction: The killer was having sex with the dying women.

Too bad you couldn’t prove any of it.

Neither could you publish the information about the missing body part or lube without totally outing your source at the morgue, although that ship had kinda sailed when you showed your hand to the detective.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Praying for Divine intervention, you started typing.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you think Claude?”

The overweight Tabby cat yawned.

“Thanks for the support. I’ll remember that next time you want a treat.”

Looking at your reflection in the full length bathroom mirror, you critically assessed your outfit: short, pleated black polyester tennis skirt, metallic silver cowl neck top, dingy, thigh high, white spiked boots, and a cropped, pink fake fur bomber jacket.

Heavy eye makeup, red lips and purposely mussed hair completed the disguise.

This classy ensemble, courtesy of the local thrift shop, had cost you a grand total of $53.98, an amount you really couldn’t afford.

But since the police, one surly detective in particular, weren’t talking you were just gonna have to find someone who would.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your feet were numb.

Whether it was from the insanely high heels or the -2 degrees (F) windchill you didn’t know.

Or care.

After walking the Hennepin Ave circuit for 3 hours you had a whole lot of nothing.

The sex workers definitely knew something.

Clustered in groups of 3 or 4, they murmured to themselves, cell phone cameras flashing, warning potential customers they were being watched, however, no one was willing to talk to a stranger.

A midnight blue, extended cab pickup pulled up, idling at the curb.

“Come here.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m..uh.. off the clock.”

He wasn’t the first guy who’d tried to engage you.

Maybe your refusal to leave with a client had given you away.

“Come here or I’ll bring you here.”

Tentatively you stepped closer.

“I said I’m not…Are you fucking kidding me Marshall?”

He sat hunched over the steering wheel, eyes blazing at you.

Beyond annoyed, you hissed, “Go away.”

“Get in the truck.”

“No.”

“Get in the goddamn truck now.”

Mimicking his earlier behavior, you crossed your arms.

“You can’t tell me what to….”

The cab of the truck flooded with light as he opened the driver side door.

“Fine!”

In a huff, you climbed in, fastening your seatbelt before throwing him a scowl.

He ignored you, smoothly merging with the heavy Friday night traffic.

“Where’d you park that piece of shit car?”

You refused to answer, making a show of sulking.

“Answer me or..”

“Or what?” you interrupted, “You had no right harassing me, asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

His harsh tone was a clear indicator you’d pissed him off.

“Your car?”

“It’s at my apartment. I took an Uber.”

The Detective sighed.

“Exactly what the hell were you trying to accomplish out there?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re no help so I…”

“You what? You decided to play fucking dress up? Do you have any idea how dangerous the streets are? Some freak is killing prostitutes and your stupid ass is running around pretending to be one.”

“Are you finished?”

He clenched his jaw, cheek ticking.

“Contrary to your belief I’m not stupid. I can take care of myself.”

You reached in your bag producing a sleek, highly illegal taser.

“Plus I have this. And yes, I know how to use it.”

Taking a sharp left turn he headed South.

“Um, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“How do you….”

“Born and raised in the Gold Coast area of Chicago. Only child. Undergrad at University of Chicago, Masters in Communication from Loyola, which your ridiculously rich mother paid for. You worked at two small time local papers then the Chicago Sun where you, what? Got coffee for three years? You took a job at the StarTribune 18 months ago writing online fluff. You live in the East Phillips neighborhood, don’t drink, smoke or do drugs and generally have no social life. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, more than a little angry he’d checked you out.

“Pretty good,” you retorted, “My turn.”

“Born in the Channel Islands. Strict Catholic upbringing, four siblings, three boys, one girl. Attended St Michael’s Prep before transferring to Stowe School your Sophomore year, sorry, you call it Year 11. Joined the London Metropolitan Police Force in 2008, the same year you married Angie Stultz. She was interning for Warrener Stewart right?”

You rambled on, not waiting for an answer.

“Your daughter Faye was born the next year. Four years later you were promoted to the Criminal Investigations Department. You started out in Street Crime, then Organized Crime, until landing in Major Crimes in 2015. January of 2017 you and the little family moved to Minneapolis, where your wife was from but you didn’t start with the police department here for another 5 months so I’m assuming you were a house husband until your emigration papers cleared. Apparently you weren’t a very good husband, house or otherwise, cause your wife filed for divorce under “Irreconcilable DIfferences” a little over a year ago. You live alone, don’t smoke or do drugs and are generally recognized as a bully. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

You flashed a Chesire grin.

Uh, oh.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead, buried 6 feet down, “Here lies a stupid idiot who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut” carved in the marker.

“Um, this is me.”

You pointed to a two story brick building, an empty storefront on the first floor, your studio apartment on the second.

“Why do you live in this shithole? With mommy’s money you could be living in the Carlyle or Legacy.”

“I wanted to prove I can make it on my own. And this neighborhood? It’s not as bad as people think. The Pizzeria over there? The old, Italian couple that own it let anyone who needs to use the free wifi. On the weekends they stay open late and offer a free slice and drink so the kids have a safe place to go.”

You became animated, warming to the topic.

“Mrs Freemantle, in the brownstone next door, invites me over three or four times a month. Her oxtail soup and mac and cheese are freaking amazing. She doesn't get around too well so I run errands for her once or twice a week.”

You peered out the windshield.

“Those two guys on the steps, the ones you gave the stink eye to? Andre and Tony? They fixed my car for a six pack and a pizza the last time it crapped out.”

“Probably with stolen parts,” he mumbled.

“I bought the parts, you judgemental ass.” you spat.

Jerking the handle, you exited the vehicle.

Snow swirled in the open door.

“People here care more about each other than anyone ever did in the swanky condo’s I grew up in. Thanks for the ride.”

You flung the door closed with a thud.

Trekking up the sidewalk, you quickly unlocked the outside door, your mind already on a molten hot shower.

“Honey, I’m home,” you announced to the tiny studio, tossing your bag and coat on the fifth-hand orange and green couch.

You stretched, exhausted, looking forward to…..

It happened so fast.

One second you were contemplating splurging an extra ten minutes in the shower, the next you were slammed against the kitchen wall, Detective Marshall’s forearm across your neck, other hand over your mouth.

You flailed at him, hitting and kicking.

It was like fighting a marble statue.

He leaned in, leg slotted between yours.

“Taser ain’t much help now is it.”

You pushed at his arm.

“How fucking stupid are you? You didn’t even lock your fucking door. Anyone…”

You bit his fingers, drawing blood.

He let go, surprised by your counterattack.

“Get the hell out of…..”

His hand closed around your throat.

Your chest heaved from adrenaline, his booming heartbeat matching yours.

Without warning, his lips crashed to yours.

The kiss was desperate, all consuming, his beard scratching your delicate skin.

His hand slipped under your top and cheap push-up bra, palming your breast, rough fingers pinching the already pebbled nipple.

The kiss deepened to something dark, Marshall taking control.

You rocked your hips against his muscled thigh, your core on fire.

Snaking down your belly, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of you skirt, callused digits gliding through your damp, plumped slit.

He circled your clit, applying light pressure with each pass, thumb randomly sweeping the bundle of nerves.

Lost in a sea of sensation, you mewled, the sound swallowed by his warm, searching mouth.

“Tell me to stop.”

Afraid he wouldn’t stop, even more afraid he would, you remained silent as you unzipped his jeans, freeing his heavy cock.

Gathering the sticky wetness from the tip, you stroked his length.

“Fuck.”

The whispered obscenity went straight to your cunt, fresh slick coating his hand.

He tore your black tights in one motion, leaving you bare.

Marshall lifted your leg, curling it around his waist, his cock poised at you sopping entrance.

“Last chance.”

You draped your arms around his shoulders, balancing yourself.

Taking that as a sign, he pressed into you, you channel stretching painfully.

You cried out, the burn almost too much.

His lips latched to yours, tongues sparing until his cock was fully ensheathed in your heat.

He pulled out, briefly hesitated, before thrusting in again.

Breaking the kiss, you buried your face in his neck, fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He fucked you now, hips pistoning, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Marshall’s feral grunts mingled with your needy moans.

Tendrils of electricity surged along your nerves.

He lifted your leg higher, changing the angle of penetration, his cock hitting the soft, spongy spot repeatedly.

“Please,..please..” you choked out.

“I’ve got you.”

You came with a sob, hips pumping in time with his, cunt clenching, the sheer intensity of your orgasm frightening, wave after wave threatening to drown you.

He drove into you faster, chasing his own release.

All you could do was hold on, tears staining his coarse, coal gray sweater.

You felt him swell, hips stuttering.

His muscles flexed as he came, pushing you against the wall, milky ropes of cum splashing your walls.

Fevered lust dissipating, he rested his cheek on your head.

Untangling limbs, Marshall fastened his jeans.

He didn’t stay, instead turning towards the door.

Hand on the brass knob, he paused.

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

His words froze the question in your throat.

Door closed, you collapsed to the floor, head bowed, knees to chest.

“What the hell just happened.”

@xoxabs88xox @imanuglywombat @fanfic-fangirl @caffiend-queen @alexakeyloveloki @americasass81 @lokislastlove @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sweeterthanthis @ironlady1993 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jennmurawski13 @starynighty @sapphirescrolls @xsapphirescrollsx @sagechanoafterdark @momc95 @jtargaryen18 @demonsandpieohmy @dangertoozmanykids101 @lizzystuffsthings @nildespirandum @shikin83 @sinceimetyou @buckybarnesandmarvel @imdarkinme @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @littlefreya

#SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL X READER #WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL #SOFT DARK WALTER MASHALL #NIGHT HUNTER AU #NIGHT HUNTER FIC #DARK NIGHT HUNTER FIC #HENRY CAVILL #HENRY CAVILL CHARACTERS

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months

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a list of some summer movies/series 🌞

hi hi hi!! it's just me, your friendly neighbourhood little organisation freak of a goblin here to give you yet again a list of some seasonal movies and series. this time, say it with me folks, summer! as always, just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

autumn | winter | spring

🐚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

roman holiday (1953)

jaws (1975)

friday the 13th (1980)

Indiana jones (1981-)

dirty dancing (1987)

the princess bride (1987)

paris is burning (1990)

point break (1991)

jurassic park (1993-)

before sunrise (1995)

a goofy movie (1995)

clueless (1995)

birdcage (1996)

boogie nights (1997)

i know what you did last summer (1997)

my best friend's wedding (1997)

parent trap (1998)

bilboard dad (1998)

tarzan (1999)

the talented mr. ripley (1999)

10 things I hate about you (1999)

the mummy (1999)

cast away (2000)

almost famous (2000)

our lips are sealed (2000)

charlie’s angels (2000 + 2003)

holiday in the sun (2001)

the wedding planner (2001)

the fast and furious franchise (2001-)

princess diaries (2001-2004)

lilo and stitch (2002)

blue crush (2002)

crossroads (2002)

how to lose a guy in 10 days (2003)

under the tuscan sun (2003)

the lizzie mcguire movie (2003)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

sisterhood of the traveling pants (2005-2008)

monster in law (2005)

aquamarine (2006)

she’s the man (2006)

the cheetah girls 2 (2006)

high school musical 2 (2007)

camp rock (2008)

vicky cristina barcelona (2008)

fool's gold (2008)

mamma mia (2008 + 2018)

adventureland (2009)

bride wars (2009)

hannah montana the movie (2009)

the last song (2010)

letters to juliet (2010)

eat pray love (2010)

one day (2011+2024)

a little bit of heaven (2011)

soul surfer (2011)

the impossible (2012)

magic mike (2012+2025+2023)

the big wedding (2013)

lovelace (2013)

endless love (2014)

chef (2014)

the longest ride (2015)

mad max: fury road (2015)

the shallows (2016)

it (2017)

girls trip (2017)

baywatch (2017)

jumanji: welcome to the jungle (2017)

gifted (2017)

call me by your name (2017)

crazy rich asians (2018)

adrift (2018)

ibiza (2018)

every day (2018)

bad times at the el royale (2018)

tomb raider (2018)

the red sea diving resort (2019)

midsommar (2019)

we summon the darkness (2019)

spider-man: far from home (2019)

the devil all the time (2020)

palm springs (2020)

the last letter from your lover (2021)

raya and the last dragon (2021)

luca (2021)

uncharted (2022)

glass onion (2022)

do revenge (2022)

the lost city (2022)

the gray man (2022)

death on the nile (2022)

barbie (2023)

bottoms (2023)

anyone but you (2023)

la passion de dodin bouffant (2023)

road house (2024)

the challengers (2024)

players (2024)

twisters (2024)

🍦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

the o.c. (2003-2007)

america's next top model (2003-2018)

project runway (2004-)

h2o: just add water (2006-2010)

gossip girl (2007-2012)

private practice (2007-2013)

rupaul’s drag race (2009-)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

new girl (2011-2018)

the fosters (2013-2018)

black-ish (2014-2022)

jane the virgin (2014-2019)

grace and frankie (2015-2022)

critical role (2015-)

stranger things (2016-)

the durrells (2016-2019)

big little lies (2017-2019)

she's gotta have it (2017-2019)

the bold type (2017-2021)

queer eye (2018-)

station 19 (2018-2024)

euphoria (2019-)

roswell, new mexico (2019-2022)

valeria (2020-2023)

911: lone star (2020-)

outer banks (2020-)

bridgerton (2020-)

sex/life (2021-2023)

the white lotus (2021-2025)

daisy jones and the six (2023)

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april-is · 6 months

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April 18, 2024: Fourteen, Marie Howe

Fourteen Marie Howe

She is still mine—for another year or so— but she’s already looking past me through the funeral-home door to where the boys have gathered in their dark suits.

Also: Hurry, Marie Howe Walking Home, Marie Howe A Little Tooth, Thomas Lux

Today in:

2023: I wanted to be surprised., Jane Hirshfield 2022: Short Talk on Waterproofing, Anne Carson 2021: Cindy Comes To Hear Me Read, Jill McDonough 2020: from This Magic Moment, David Kirby 2019: Poem In Which I Become Wolverine, José Olivarez 2018: In the Beginning God Said Light, Mary Szybist 2017: from Contradictions: Tracking Poems, Adrienne Rich 2016: I Said Yes but I Meant No, Dean Young 2015: Cardinal Cardinal, Stephen Dunn 2014: Ezra Pound’s Proposition, Robert Hass 2013: Wistful sounds like a brand of air freshener, Bob Hicok 2012: Not Getting Closer, Jack Gilbert 2011: Written in Pencil in the Sealed Railway-Car, Dan Pagis 2010: The Moss of His Skin, Anne Sexton 2009: It’s This Way, Nazim Hikmet 2008: The Problem With Skin, Aimee Nezhukumatathil 2007: Serenade, Terrance Hayes 2006: The Old Liberators, Robert Hedin 2005: Morning Song, Sylvia Plath

#parenthood #the art of losing #daughters #poetry #national poetry month #marie howe

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bottlesofrouge · 3 months

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on one condition.

harry styles x original character

part three.

word count: 14K

warnings: homophobia

29 JUNE 2018

whatever made lynn think an hour drive with harry would be fine could not have been more wrong. the two left his apartment complex approximately fourteen minutes ago and they've already argued over what song to play a total of three times and just how high the air conditioning should be set to.

lynn thought 72 degrees was a decent temperature, but harry wanted it set to 62. it wasn't her fault he decided to wear a sweater vest in the middle of june.

a text from jackie comes through on the screen of the car which lynn is used to. but this time, harry's phone was connected to the apple carplay, and he's quick to close out the notification.

"how's jackie?" she can't help but ask.

"she's good," harry's smiling at his phone. "even better in bed."

lynn grips the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turn white. "that's good."

honestly, lynn wasn't mad. there wasn't a single part of her that wanted harry for herself. he simply wasn't her type (nobody was her type). however, there was something a little unnerving about harry having an entire college campus full of girls to sleep with and still choosing her childhood best friend.

harry was meeting her family for the first time today and to say she was nervous would be an understatement. she could barely stomach dinner last night and opted to skip breakfast entirely this morning. he wasn't always the most polite person to be around, and lynn was terrified to see how he acted around children.

"we should probably kiss or something," harry pulls her from her thoughts.

"i'm sorry?"

"you know," he waves his hand in the air. "to make it more believable or whatever. we haven't been affectionate around my parents at all, and we've been seeing each other for nearly a month. do you think you can handle it?"

lynn scoffs, "can you?"

"i'm certain i'll be able to hold back the vomit," he says. "nothing too crazy, either. it has to look natural."

"don't be silly," she turns into the parking lot of the performance center. "most men would die for a chance to taste my cherry chapstick."

"alright, katy perry," he rolled his eyes. "try not to look so stiff."

"what's that su-" she's cut off by the sound of harry's door slamming.

when she meets him in front of the car, he takes her hand and leans in with that god-awful dead stare on his face. the kiss is quick, and feels like it looks natural. (at least she thinks so.) lynn hasn't kissed anyone in years. she doesn't want to overthink it, so she pushes it to the back of her mind as the two walk hand in hand to meet her family.

it was just peter, kathy, and amelia, but lynn felt like her heart was going to fall out of her ass as she watched him shake hands with each of them. god, they were going to find out. lynn would never date someone like harry.

"you must be amelia," harry says. "your sister talks about you an awful lot."

lynn watches as amelia smiles at his lie. she had told him her name eight minutes ago and that was literally all he knew about her. the group moves inside and lynn sits in between harry and amelia with her parents on the other side of her sister.

leaning her head against harry's shoulder, she whispers so only he can hear her. "what? no hot and steamy texts that need your constant attention?"

harry hums, "probably. left my phone in the car though. wanted all my attention to be on lane's dance recital."

"jane," lynn corrects. "her name is jane."

"same thing," he rests his hand on lynn's knee, squeezing just once. "now relax, blondie. we have an hour of 'jazztastical fun'," harry underlines the words on the program they were handed at the door with his finger as he speaks.

"that's a stupid word," lynn leans back in her chair, harry's hand still resting on her knee.

"looks like we can finally agree on something."

she wasn't sure what she was expecting 'jazztastical' meant, but surely, it wasn't supposed to be this boring. being in one of the youngest classes, jane was one of the first groups to perform, leaving another five groups to follow after.

lynn usually left the second jane's group was finished, meeting her in the parking lot with a bouquet of flowers and her favorite chocolate afterward. this time she brought harry, and she was going to make him sit through every last second. it was only fair. she's sat through two of his family dinners.

the second family dinner wasn't near as bad as the first. although, this one only consisted of marianne and gemma (and as soon as they left, jackie). marianne brought expensive wine that gemma said paired exceptionally well with the pastries lynn had gifted them.

harry had cooked for them, and it was actually good, just like their dinner conversation. the whole event was a lot more relaxing without john's presence and lynn couldn't help but wonder if that was a common occurrence in the styles' household.

when they meet jane backstage after the recital, she's disappointed to see lynn without her flowers and her usual chocolate bar. and of course, because she's five, she makes it well known to everyone in the tiny room.

"no hershey's?" she looks up at her sister through her thick eyelashes, and god, was lynn done for.

so, because she's lynn, she offers to take her for ice cream across the street. harry doesn't seem entirely against the idea, but he doesn't seem too thrilled either. maybe he had a date with jackie that he needed to get back for. the thought of that makes lynn want to offer to drop jane back at her parents' house and amelia at her friends' just to make him even later.

so she does.

harry and jane both get mint chip ice cream and surprisingly jane actually likes it this time. she couldn't tell if she was pretending because harry liked it, but the girl wasn't complaining so she wasn't too worried.

"are you lynn's first boyfriend, harry?" jane says around a spoonful of her green ice cream.

harry clears his throat and amelia nudges her little sister, "she had one when you were a baby, janey"

"your recital was so good, jane." she rushes to change the subject, and lynn feels her face growing hot because she didn't realize amelia remembered anything about her last serious boyfriend. they never talked about him. "i'm so proud of you."

"ive honestly never seen a better pirouette," harry says, and lynn watches as her sister's face lights up.

"i practiced really good because miss tina said i looked sloppy."

"it looked great, janey. i wish i was half as good as you when i was a dancer," he smiles so warmly at the girl, lynn thinks it might melt all of the ice cream sitting on the table.

"what?" jane throws her hands up in the air and screams so loudly that a little bit of ice cream flies from her mouth. "i didn't know boys dance."

"aiden?" amelia says. "he's in your class, jane. you see him every day."

"oh yeah," jane turns her attention back to her ice cream, and lynn notices she's just eating the chocolate pieces out.

when they drop jane off, she insists on showing harry her entire barbie collection which consists of a total of 68 dolls. whoever said you couldn't buy a child's love clearly has never met kathleen.

lynn leans against the doorframe of her little sister's playroom and watches as harry moves a little doll around while jane's laughing the kind of laugh that is filled with so much happiness it hurts your stomach a little.

and lynn wonders this is the side of harry that jackie gets. the one that has her going to sleep with sore cheeks just from smiling so hard all day. lynn knows that she's not the most approachable, and usually, she's rarely anything but cold, but she can't help but wonder why harry didn't like her.

"harrrrryyyyyy," the girl whines. "dance with me."

"janeyyyyy," he mimics. "i can't. i haven't danced in a few years."

"that's okay. i'll teach you again," she takes his hand, and lynn expects harry to shake her off and decline once again. but, he doesn't. he takes her hand and lets her lead. and lynn stays hidden in the shadows, watching every giggle fall from jane's mouth earn a grin so big from harry, she thinks they might be warmer than luke's sunshine smiles.

peter invites them to stay for dinner, and lynn was about to decline when harry speaks for her and says they would love to stay. apparently, kathleen had spent hours in the kitchen, which was more time than lynn had seen her cooking throughout her entire life combined. peter had said they do big family meals like this once a week, and something deep inside of lynn twists. it was like her father's words tried to erase every night she sat at the breakfast bar alone, eating a kid cuisine that elena had made for her before going out with her friends.

she feels like she's watching this entire dinner play out from a spectator's standpoint. she wants to scream and yell that this isn't them. this is an act that her parents are putting on, and she has a reason to resent them. she really does. she wants to grab harry by the shoulders and shake him. beg him to see right through them because she didn't want to be made out as being the hateful firstborn who does anything to spite her loving parents.

instead, she twirls the spaghetti around her fork and takes another sip of her wine.

"i'm sorry," harry says to her once they're on the way back to his apartment. it was late. the sun had set hours ago, and the only thing lighting up her car were the street lights they passed every few meters.

lynn hums and keeps her eyes on the road because she's not really sure what harry's apologizing for, and she doesn't think she can handle a backhanded remark right now. spending time with her parents took almost everything out of her.

"i blew off your sister's first recital because kids don't like me and i didn't want..."

his voice trails off, and lynn can't hold back the eye roll.

"it's okay to say you didn't want to go."

"to disappoint you," harry leans his head against the window as he speaks, avoiding any possible eye contact with her. "i didn't want to disappoint you. or them. i don't know... probably all three of you all. i was scared."

"jane really likes you, harry. amelia, too. you don't have to be scared around us."

"yeah?"

"yeah," the silence that falls around them is almost comforting in a way, and lynn almost doesn't want to break it but it feels right. "and you are so good with them. especially jane."

she watches the way he smiles to himself in the reflection of the window. the silence is back and lynn thinks it deserves to stay after a day like today. harry closes his eyes, only for a second before opening them again and offering lynn a bed to crash in because he's seen her yawn twice.

and really, who is lynn to say no?

1 JULY 2018

they have their third styles' family dinner at harry's parents' house. he spent nearly the entire drive over there on the phone with his dad, begging him to treat lynn with an ounce of respect. in the end, they weren't allowed to talk about college, jobs, promotions, or income.

the gesture surprised lynn if she was being honest. after the first dinner, she didn't really expect harry to stand up for her at all. and it's not like he needed to. she was perfectly okay with doing it herself.

they remain in silence for nearly the entire drive. nothing but the sound of rain hitting the car could be heard. she wasn't sure if she should thank him for speaking with his dad, or if he was doing it out of guilt after what lynn had witnessed when she got to harry's apartment.

she had walked in on harry knuckles deep inside of jackie, and turned right back around and walked out without saying a word. she took the elevator down and paced around the hallway for a second before sending harry a text to let him know she was outside. she wasn't sure if they knew she saw them, but when harry got into the car with pink cheeks and stuttered over his words, her suspicions were confirmed.

"i was thinking," harry breaks the silence. "you can choose the music for the whole ride. my apology for what you saw earlier."

"i'll play whatever i want," lynn glares at him. "you're in my car."

"damn okay," harry raises his hands like lynn's got a gun to his head. "now i see what jackie means."

"what's that supposed to mean?"

he shakes his head. "said you hadn't gotten laid in a while and you'd probably be uptight all night."

the way lynn swerves when the words leave his mouth lets him know that maybe what jackie said should have been kept between just them.

lynn doesn't end up responding, and really, she shouldn't have to. because jackie knew the real reason she hasn't slept with anyone in ages and she can't help but wonder if she shared that with harry, too.

"i'm sensing you're mad at me," harry says.

"congratulations! you know how to read social cues," lynn rolls her eyes, and the car goes silent again.

when they get there, marianne was in the kitchen preparing dinner while john was relaxing in the living room. lynn could say a thousand horrible things about her own father, but when kathleen was up and contributing to the household, peter was, too.

"lynn, so nice to see you," john smiles at her, but makes no move to get up from the couch. "mari said you brought some lovely pastries last time. i was hoping you'd do the same this time."

"sorry," lynn says. "didn't have time to stop today."

the conversation dies right there as john doesn't bother to reply, and lynn takes it as as sign to go offer her help to marianne. she wasn't the best cook but certainly she would be able to chop an onion.

and maybe she was wrong. because marianne hands her a cutting board along with a knife and a few different vegetables. she slices one carrot and cubes a single potato before the woman puts her hand on her shoulder and asks if she would mind helping harry set the table.

there were only four of them, and they were having soup. setting the table was not a two-person job.

marianne's phone rings while she's trying to take a selfie with the two to send to gemma and she accidentally answers it. an older woman pops up on the screen, and lynn guesses it to be harry's grandmother.

"mom," marianne turns around so it's only her in the frame. she's smiling so brightly, but her tone is a little off. "is everything alright?"

"i just had some free time and i thought i'd give you a call," the older woman says. lynn moves behind marianne to finish setting the table. "is that gemma back there? put her on. i've missed my favorite grandchild."

"that's harry's girlfriend, mom."

"oh... he's there?" the old woman's demeanor completely. she went from sounding so incredibly warm to sounding ice cold with the sourest expression on her face in a matter of seconds. when marianne says yes, the older woman hangs up the call.

"harry..." anne looks up from her phone to look harry who hasn't moved from the spot in front of her.

"it's alright."

"i didn't mean to answer," she says. "i would never do that."

"really, it's okay," he offers her a warm smile, but lynn can tell that it doesn't really reach his eyes. at least not the way it did when he was dancing with jane.

harry excuses himself outside and lynn can't help but to follow when he doesn't return a few minutes later. she finds him sitting on one of the outdoor couches marianne and john have on their back porch. there's an overhang, but the porch isn't entirely closed in, so she's certain he's getting a little damp.

"hey," she leans over the back of the couch. "you alright?"

"hm?" he turns his head ever so slightly to see who it was. "yeah. i'm fine."

"yeah?" because it looks like you've been crying, she wants to say. "you sure?"

"yeah," he leans his face against her hand that's resting on the couch.

so lynn moves it to his cheek, and then his hair, and then to his shoulders, and she doesn't really know why she ends up massaging nearly every part of harry she can reach, but she does. because harry's sad and something really, really deep inside of her wants to make it better.

the way he leans into her touch is so soft, so unlike him. or maybe it is like him. lynn doesn't know. whatever he gave her was surface level and she's certain the most she'll ever get out of him is his favorite color.

"ah, you guys compliment each other so well," marianne's voice comes through the cracked back door. lynn feels her face burn at being caught. and also because how long have they been out there? "i don't want to interrupt, but dinner's on the table."

"thank you," harry says when it's just them outside. it's quiet, and he's following his mom inside before she even has a chance to respond.

dinner is less painful than expected. john follows all of the conversation guidelines he agreed to. except for once, when he made a sly comment about getting a college education. lynn would've made a slight deal about it, but harry had been nearly silent the whole dinner. the only sounds that came from him were the occasional hums of agreement and the occasional scraping of his spoon against the ceramic bowl. she thinks an argument with his father might be just what he needs to set him over the edge.

marianne surprises them with homemade brownies, and lynn ends up eating harry's for him because he said he didn't feel well and she didn't want to hurt the woman's feelings. and also they were extremely good.

when they leave, lynn has the leftovers in her hands, and harry carries the weight of the million 'i'm sorry's that his mom threw at him before they walked out of the door.

"are you up for a little drive?" lynn asks once they're both in the car. harry's putting his shoes on her dash, and she decides that she can let it slide tonight. just this once.

"where to?"

"no where in particular."

"i feel like this is going to lead to my murder," he reclines the seat and leans back, eyes closing.

"ha ha," her voice is monotone."i just," and she knows she shouldn't be prodding, but lynn couldn't help it. she's never seen harry act like that in the entire month she's known him. " i saw the way your demeanor changed after that call with your grandmother."

"lynn-"

"i know. it's not my place. i'm not asking you to tell me. we can sit in silence, or you can put music on. i'm not picky." she looks over at harry. "driving around is what used to help me."

"okay," he says. "but can we get tea or something?'

"sure," lynn opens her maps to see starbucks is the only coffee shop still open and she apologizes for it, but harry assures her that it's okay. starbucks tea was his favorite.

when they get to the drive-thru, lynn's annoyed to see that there's not a single tea menu listed on the board. she asks for a green tea, and the barista replies, asking if she was looking for the emperor's cloud or the jade citrus mint.

"i'll have a honey citrus mint," harry says. "i think you'd like the mint majesty. it's caffeine free, too."

"yeah? okay," she orders the two teas and harry insists on paying because it was his idea and really, she couldn't complain about free tea.

they drive in silence only for a few minutes before harry reaches for her phone to put on some music. he shuffles one of the 1975's albums. lynn really wasn't sure which one it was because she never listens to them, but it wasn't bad. and neither was her tea. in fact, it was good. better than good even. she loved it. lynn would be lying if she said she wasn't curious as to how harry knew she'd like it.

"are you sure you like your tea?" lynn says over a song change. "you've barely touched it, and i don't mind trading with you."

"i know. i used to get it whenever i was sick." his thumb traces the lid as he speaks. "it's more of a comfort thing i guess."

harry's sitting with his hang hanging low almost like it was too heavy for him to hold up. he's either looking at his feet or his face is pressed against the window. seeing him like this makes lynn finally crack, "are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"when my grandmother called my mom today," his voice was scratchy, and he pauses. lynn's not sure if he was clearing his throat or on the verge of tears. "it was the first time i've heard her voice in a year. she doesn't really like me."

"does your stellar attitude have something to do with it?" it was meant to be a joke but harry seemed to find no amusement in it.

"no, it's because i loved a boy."

she laughs a little because harry was the textbook definition of a straight male. besides the fact that he's probably slept with half of the female population, his attitude gave it away. lynn looks over at him expecting a joking smile to be sat on his lips, only she's met with the most stone-cold expression she's ever seen on harry's face.

"oh," she clears her throat and sets her tea in the cup holder. she wasn't expecting harry to be so honest with her. "well, your grandma fucking sucks for that."

"you really think so?"

"i do. i also think that you shouldn't try and change yourself because of your family's shitty opinions... i'm referring to the whole jackie thing if that wasn't obvious."

"wise words, lynn, and your reference was very obvious...but i also like women," he holds his hands in front of his mouth like someone had just told him some life-altering secret. "i know. shocking."

"i read a book in my gender studies class called compulsory heterosexuality. maybe you just think you do because that's what society tells you."

"i am extremely confident when it comes to my attraction to women," he has a small smile on his lips. "would you like a demonstration?"

"and there's the harry i know," she smiles at him, and he only stares at her. "what?"

"i don't think i've ever seen you genuinely smile," lynn wants to say the same about him, but that would be a lie because she's seen him smile with nearly everyone but her.

"yeah, yeah," she waves him off. "if you ever need to vent about your grandmother, i'm all ears. and for the small price of another mint majesty tea, i can even pretend like it never happened afterward."

"you know me too well," he says. "thank you for tonight."

"any time."

"do you think maybe i could sleep at yours?" he asks.

lynn's immediate response is to say no, but she doesn't. she lets a few moments pass and then settles for an "okay, but consider this your warning."

4 JULY 2018

when lynn warns harry about her place, he expects it to be a little messy. clothes thrown around the room, an unmade bed, and perhaps a spider or two lurking in the corner. or maybe it was in a busy neighborhood with lots and lots of loud traffic.

it's neither. lynn's studio apartment is located in a nice, gated apartment complex, far away from any busy street with lots of noisy cars. it's cluttered, but also extremely clean. it smells like freshly washed sheets that were hung on a beach to dry, but also like warm vanilla (which was also how her hands smelled when he pressed his face into them).

there's books laying on a desk in the corner, each one with a dog-eared page near the end. two half-empty mugs sat in her sink, and there was a bouquet of wilting flowers sitting in the middle of the counter. drawings and paintings from jane were stuck on her refrigerator with alphabet magnets, and pictures of her sisters hung front and center.

her bed was in the corner of the room. it was unmade but still looked clean if that made sense. you could tell the sheets were frequently washed and didn't have an ecosystem growing in between one of the layers.

her duvet cover was white, but the blush pink sheets poked out from underneath. and there was a stuffed bear that sat against one of the pillows that had a little too much wear to be amelia's or jane's.

the whole apartment was nothing like what harry imagined lynn was like underneath that cold, hard front she put up. he expected her apartment to be sterile feeling with little to no signs of life. he imagined it to be bigger and practically unused. but this was different. it felt like a home.

he doesn't know what lynn's warning was for until he's wearing her clothes and laying under the blankets that sat on top of some kind of rolled up mattress that she pulled out of a closet.

lynn pulls a key off of her nightstand, and walks over to the door where harry sees the four deadbolts lined up. she locks every single one of them, and then gets into bed, gripping the key in her hand.

"should i be scared?" harry had asked. he doesn't remember the area on the drive in, but certainly there's not enough crime to warrant four locks on the door.

"no," was all she said before rolling over, back facing him. "goodnight, harry."

he so badly wanted to ask what that was about, but he doesn't get the chance because when he wakes up, lynn's gone. nothing but a note stating he has to show up to her family's fourth of july party in return for her hospitality the night prior.

harry could say she's slept at his twice before and he's willing to call it even, but he kind of wants to hang out with her sisters again. so, he puts the note in his pocket, and steals one of her hoodies before calling an uber back to his.

he wasn't really sure what exactly consisted of a family picnic because growing up, the fourth of july meant sparklers and staying up past his bedtime and that was it. there was no family get togethers, and only on special occasions were they allowed to go into town to watch the fireworks.

so harry googles it, and decides to bring a side dish along with jackie. really, she caught harry as he was walking out of his front door, and harry's not one to turn down an environmentally friendly car pool.

"this is my first adams' family picnic," jackie says on the drive over. "silas always raves about them, but i've skipped them so much. lynn's stopped inviting me."

"she didn't invite you?"

jackie shakes her head. "honestly, i'm not surprised. she's been so forgetful recently," she takes his hand and presses her lips to his knuckle. "but, im happy to get to spend some time with you."

"yeah," harry says before thinking. he was okay with people thinking he was in an open relationship, but he wasn't entirely sure if his or lynn's family fit into that category of people. "actually, jackie, i don't know if we should in front of lynn's family."

the girl mumbles something under her breath and looks out the window.

when they get there, lynn's not answering her phone, so he follows jackie through the side gate into the adams' backyard. he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't lynn's entire extended family.

"harry, i'm so glad you could make it." kathleen seems to appear out of nowhere and hugs him. she kisses both of his cheeks and then moves to jackie and does the same to the girl. "and jackie, it's so nice to see you. it's been forever."

"it has, miss kathy," jackie grins. "thank you for having me."

"you know you're welcome anytime. and you, too, harry. you must be pretty special to lynn if she's kept you around this long."

"she's pretty special to me, too." harry smiles to hide the way his entire body cringes at the words, and hopes kathleen doesn't notice. he felt so awkward and out of place, and he didn't realize just how much effort lynn put into this whole thing. she was the one who usually took the lead and guided him through these conversations with her parents, and he felt he was a little too far in over his head without her.

what if he said the wrong thing and their parents found out everything was fake? he'd quite literally have to off himself if anyone found out that he was playing pretend with a girl his mom had set him up with at his big age of twenty one. that would be the worst thing to ever happen to him. even worse than the make shift intervention.

"how about we grab a drink?" jackie asks. her brow's raised and she has a smile on her face. harry thinks he'll need quite a few drinks to stomach this party, so he nods and follows her to the coolers.

a hour or two later, harry's stumbling through the sliding glass door that leads to the house. he's not really sure how much time has passed, but he's certain of two things.

1: he really needed to find a bathroom

2: one more drink and he would be borderline obliterated

jackie's behind him, wiping her wet feet on the mat outside. they had been sitting with their feet in the pool, sharing drinks supplied by peter and kathleen and sipping little pink whitney shooters jackie kept in her purse "for emergencies".

the two run into lynn in her parents' kitchen after leaving the bathroom. she was leaning over the counter, pouring some powder into a very expensive looking kitchen aid. silas, who harry didn't expect, was standing behind her with his hand on her lower back.

"hey you two," jackie draws the attention of the pair, her words slurring together.

"oh, jackie," lynn doesn't bother to turn around but harry can see her glance at silas. her voice is so monotone, and she doesn't even try to hide her lack of enthusiasm. "glad you could make it."

"figured you just forgot to text me," jackie raises her brows, and then a little quieter she says, "that seems to be a common occurrence lately."

silence floods the room for a second before silas steps away, extending his had to harry. "i'm silas," he says. "it's nice to finally meet you. lynn always has nice things to say."

jackie laughs loudly at this and harry feels so incredibly awkward. obviously there was some unresolved tension in the group, and perhaps he shouldn't have let jackie carpool with him after all.

"i could say the same," harry shakes his hand, and goddamn, did he have a grip. if silas squeezed any harder, harry thinks there wouldn't be a bone in his hand left unbroken.

"i hope so. she shouldn't have a bad word to say," silas's voice is so cool and even as he walks back over to lynn, pulling her hair from her shoulders. "had an accident a few years ago."

harry looks to see lynn smiling one of those rare, warm smiles she gave him that night in her car, but this time her smile's for silas. "resulted in a very unfortunate bob."

"hmm," jackie hums next to him. "wasn't as bad as your bang era."

harry clears his throat when he sees the very noticeable grown out bangs framing lynn's face. "i um-," he rocks back and forth on his feet, the pink whitney and beer bubbling up in his throat. "i made a pasta salad, but i think i left it on my counter. i'm going to-"

"what the fuck is going on with you, jackie?" silas turns around and has his back resting on the counter. his arms are crossed in front of him and he watches as lynn leans into him, her hand resting on his chest as she tries to whisper something to him. "lynn, no. she should go."

no one says anything, and harry cannot stop looking at the way silas stands behind lynn with his arm now wrapped around her, holding her against him like she needed some kind of protection.

"silas is right," lynn's voice is soft. "i'll pay for your uber, but you really should go. you're drunk."

"you're both crazy. i'm not drunk."

"we're crazy?" silas steps toward her. "jackie, you're the one who's been fucking lynn's boyfriend."

harry waits for one of the girls to correct silas because harry was lynn's fake boyfriend, but neither do, and harry can feel the cold sweat forming as the realization hits. jackie thought it was all real.

he looks up at lynn, and the look on her face was enough to make harry feel like he's been punched in the stomach, and he can't believe he was the cause of it. he wouldn't let things with jackie go as far as they did if he had known.

harry doesn't say anything when silas walks jackie out. honestly, all harry could think about was lynn and the thousands of ways he needed to apologize to her. maybe it was all the drinks, but he felt so, so guilty.

she's turned away from him, her attention back on whatever she was baking. "do you need any help, lynn?"

"i think you've done enough." as the words leave her mouth, he doesn't feel so bad anymore.. sure, he slept with jackie, but he always assumed she knew about their arrangement just like silas did. there were plenty of opportunities for lynn to tell him that she didn't and that the two seeing each other made her uncomfortable, but she never did. he wasn't going to take the blame for something he didn't know about.

"and what have i done exactly?" she starts pouring the batter into cupcake tins, and ignores his words. "it's okay to say you want me all to yourself, blondie."

"in your dreams, harry." she turns around finally, licking the spoon in a way that has harry's jaw going a little slack. "go do something. you're bothering me."

he hums for a second with his finger tapping his chin like he was actually pondering it, "i don't think i will."

"silas is outside. you could go see how many of my friends you can get to sleep with you."

"i'll think about it. he's not really my type."

"i thought you could always appreciate a good body," harry can't help it when he cracks a little smile.

it's quiet for a beat, and lynn goes to put her cupcakes in the oven. she's wearing a pair of jeans that fit her in all the right ways and when she bends down to slide the pan in, harry can't help himself. "why do you think i'm still sitting here?"

he hears lynn scoff, "i'm not sure what's more unappealing. your personality or the way you always seem to reek of a three day old hangover."

"not true. your father said i smelled lovely when i was sandwiched between him and your mother last night."

"i'll make sure to ask them about it when we're all having lunch," she stands with her back against the oven, now facing him. "maybe we can get the whole extended family's input?"

harry shakes his head and sighs. he leans against the breakfast bar, slouching over counter a bit. "i thought we were going to be more civil with each other, lynn,"

"you think fucking my best friend was going to have me kissing the ground you walk on?"

"how was i supposed to know you didn't tell her?" his arms are crossed in front of him. "you have silas all over you like a goddamn blanket and you expect jackie to think you're in love with me? come on, lynn."

"that's right, harry. blame everyone but yourself," she moves so she's opposite harry, palms smacking the granite counter. "have you been drinking?"

"yes?"

her eyes narrow. "you know, i'm starting to think your grandma was onto something when she stopped speaking to you."

harry sucks in a breath and he feels like the wind's been knocked out of him. he's drunk and there's tears pooling in his eyes, but he can't look away from her. lynn's staring at him with the coldest stare. like she meant every word she said.

"go fuck yourself, lynn." he flicks her off and turns on the balls of his feet, walking back out the sliding glass door. regret comes seeping over him because god, did he want to go home. he really shouldn't have had that much to drink.

he decides on going to sit in his car. he'd sober up and then goes to his parents. listening to a lecture from his dad would surely be better than sitting here and having to act like he wants to be anywhere near lynn. he was so incredibly stupid for thinking that a pointless car drive and a cup of tea was going to change anything about the relationship they had already established.

harry was so good at pretending to be someone he wasn't. he always tried to come off as someone who was always calm and kept himself together. he was confident in just the right ways, and everyone he met loved him. or at least what they saw of him.

there were plenty of people on campus who would say hi to him if they had passed each other in a hallway. they were friendly, not friends. and that was the perfect way to put it. he held everyone he met at an arm's length away.

harry spent years perfecting this stupid act he put on for nearly everyone he met, so he doesn't really understand why lynn seems to be the only person in the world that doesn't fall for it.

"harry!" he looks over to see jane sitting on the raft in a pool, a juice box in one hand and a popsicle in the other. "come push me around."

harry walks over to the edge of the pool, crouching down to be eye level with her. "well, aren't you bossy?"

she laughs and kicks her feet and it's so contagious, he can't help but smile. he doesn't realize the girls' grandmother is with them until she speaks from one of the lounge chairs, her face hiding behind a magazine.

"takes after her sister. that's why she has no friends."

harry's heart jumps in his throat when he sees the little girl start blinking rapidly through her pink flamingo sunglasses. so, he does the only logical thing he can think of, and gets in the pool with his tshirt on and sunglasses in his hair.

when he comes up, jane's peering over the arm of the floatie with a smile that's so big, harry decides he can look past the wet cotton sticking to his skin. "alright, sunflower. tell me where you want to go."

"sunflower? i'm not sunflower! i'm jane!"

"but, you're always so bright and happy, janey," harry laughs. "like a sunflower."

"mmm, okay," and then she offers him a bite of her popsicle which he would have declined in any other situation, but he did not want to see the little girl cry today.

he pushes jane around the pool like he's her personal servant for what feels like forever. she loved asking to go in to the deep end where harry could barely touch. the water would go up to his ears and he'd act like standing on his tip-toes was the most strenuous activity ever. her laugh drowned out every huff and puff her grandmother made, and harry felt like he could finally breathe when she got up and went somewhere else after asking harry if he could watch the little girl.

"how long can you stay under there?" jane says. "go under and i'll count."

and so harry does, and when he comes up, jane's at twenty seven and lynn's standing over him with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"are you fucking kidding me?" her voice is quiet yet there's so much anger in every word she says. harry doesn't even know what he's done wrong. "you're embarrassing me. get some dry clothes on and act like the grown adult you are."

"lynn, i-"

she leaves before he can even ask what's going on, and when he turns around jane's looking at him with big eyes and her hands clasped together under her chin. "can we please play mermaids, harry?"

"of course, sunflower."

peter comes to collect jane later. it was time to eat and he had made her a plate. he offers to make harry one, too, for keeping jane busy while "the adults had fun" (as if he wasn't an adult himself). harry politely declines, and instead takes a seat in a lounge chair, wanting to do nothing more than to dry off.

and to also end whatever the fuck this thing he was doing with lynn had turned in to. they were supposed to be in a fake relationship in order to help stop their borderline insane mothers from meddling in their love lives and instead, harry was surrounded by fifty people he didn't know while lynn was god knows where. probably inside somewhere with silas's hands all over her.

it didn't make sense. why would she even bother to invite harry here when she all planned on doing was staying as far away from him as she could while leaving him to fend for himself. he knew five people here if you included her sisters and her grandmother that he had met briefly at the pool. he didn't even know her name yet he would go as far as to say he hated her for what she said around jane.

"hey, man," silas is sitting at the end of his lounge chair. he's got a pile of neatly folded clothes in his hand that he's holding out for harry. "i've got a change of clothes for you and dinner's ready if you're interested."

harry holds up his hand. "thanks, but i think i'll actually be going. you can tell lynn that this is done."

"listen," silas clears his throat. "lynn is my best friend, and i love her, but she was wrong for not telling you that jackie didn't know."

"you don't have to try to side with me or try to be my friend, silas," harry blinks. "or whatever you're trying to do really. i'm okay with you pretending i don't exist. just like lynn does."

"i'm not going to pretend you don't exist, harry. you two can talk when she wakes up from her nap." silas reaches out with the clothes again, and harry takes them. "meet me in the kitchen when you're ready. i got this new beer from the brewery in town you should try."

silas leaves and harry sits there for a second because what the fuck just happened? he half expected silas to rip his head off and call him a few nasty names before kicking him out of the party, and the other half thought the guy was just going to punch him in the face.

harry debates on calling it a night and going to his apartment instead, but a drink would be nice, especially if it was on silas's dime. so he changes in the bathroom and then meets silas in the kitchen where he has a two plates made and set in front of two cans of some kind of cherry pie cider on the breakfast bar.

"wow, silas," harry says. "are you wining and dining me?"

the guy laughs, face buried in the refrigerator. when he turns around, his arms are full of different condiments and he closes the door with his foot. "these stupid parties used to be so overwhelming for me. i used to always eat in here alone, just so i could have some peace and quiet."

"why are you doing this?" they're sitting next to each other now. silas stops eating, and wipes his mouth with a napkin before turning to harry.

"because you remind me of myself, and i know how hard these things were for me when lynn first started inviting me."

"It's..." harry doesn't really know how to explain how he's feeling, so he turns his attention to the pasta salad that was probably a hundred times better than the one sitting on his kitchen counter right now. "i don't know."

"a lot?"

harry nods. "i just don't think i'm a very social person."

"cheers to that," silas raises his can. "just because you and lynn aren't really together doesn't mean you should feel uncomfortable here." harry thinks if he responds, he'll end up crying. so he doesn't. instead he pushes his food around on the plate, appetite gone.

"pete asked me to start a fire afterwards if you wouldn't mind helping." silas continues, and harry nods.

when they're finished, the two boys go outside with a new cider in hand to where the fire pit was and start the fire that lynn's father had asked for. really, harry started it while silas sat and watched. he didn't mind though, harry was in eagle scouts growing up and building fires was probably the only thing he was good at.

when the sun begins to set, lynn's family moves few by few from the patio and pool area to sit around the fire. silas introduces harry to some of lynn's extended family members, and he starts talking to her aunt cece. she introduces him to her wife like it was nothing. and really, it shouldn't have been a big deal or anything. harry was just used to the judgmental stares and comments made by his family. it never really crossed his mind that entire families could be so accepting.

when his grandmother found out he was dating a boy, she refused to come to any family function he was at. the same with his aunt, uncle, and cousins. the two didn't want their kids around someone like harry.

jane squeezes between the two to sit next to harry on the bench, and she rests her head against his arm. kathleen's sitting across from them, and a few minutes later lynn (and silas of course) sit next to her.

"it seems like you've made a friend," kathy says.

"best friend," jane corrects. she sits up and smacks her hands on her lap. "nana said i didn't have any friends."

"what?" lynn's voice comes from across the fire. "when did she say that?"

"at the pool," jane's grinning. "but i know she was just joking with me. harry said he was my best friend when we were playing mermaids.

harry feels his face warm at her confession. "and i meant it, janey."

the little girl smiles at him in a way that makes it impossible not to smile back.

"we need to have a best friend tea party on saturday. with lots of sunflowers." she says, and then she sighs. "mom you said i could have chocolate if i ate all of my salad and i did."

the way her train of thought changes so quickly makes harry laugh.

i'll get you some, jane," lynn stands up from her spot and harry's quick to do the same and say he'll join her.

"lynn," he calls her name once they get inside. she's a few steps ahead of him and makes no move to answer.

"lynn," he tries again. "can we talk, please?"

she turns to look at him when they're both in the pantry. "there's nothing to talk about, harry." she bends down to get something on the bottom shelf, ignoring him once again.

"there is," he says. "because i don't want to do this anymore."

she tilts her head. "do what?"

"this," his hand is moving between them. "whatever this is. us. i can't do this anymore."

she rolls her eyes at this. "you can only pretend when it benefits you. got it."

"that's not-" his voice breaks, and he's been trying so hard to hold in everything all day. it all just feels too much, and he shamelessly wipes the tears as they fall. "do you not hear the way you talk to me? why am i always in the wrong?"

"sleeping with my friend and being so drunk you're swimming around in your clothes doesn't seem wrong to you?" she faces him with her arms crossed in front of her.

"what? that's not what happened."

"right," she rolls her eyes again and goes back to collecting what she needs. "this act is pathetic by the way."

harry doesn't understand how they even got to this point. he was hoping they'd have a little break up. he'd go back outside and say goodbye to jane, and maybe silas because being around him wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, and then he'd go home.

she turns her attention back to whatever she's been trying to reach for the last few minutes. harry's eyes follow her hand to see a box of graham crackers pushed all the way to the back of the shelf before reaching up to push them into her reach. he wasn't much taller than her but the extra few inches helped.

"your grandmother said jane was annoying and bossy," he feels his throat burn as he speaks and decides to leave out the part where she said that she was just like her sister. "i saw her face when she heard it, and i panicked. i didn't want her to think about it for another second, so i jumped in."

it's so quiet, harry can hear the way lynn swallows at his words. she says nothing though, so he decides to keep going. "you know that one phrase someone said to you, and maybe they didn't mean it, but it still sits in your head? i didn't want that to be hers. i'm sorry for embarrassing you, lynn."

"it hit a little too close to home for you, yeah?" lynn says, realization written all over her face.

"the hurt that comes with hearing someone you admire and love so much say those things about you..." fresh, hot tears are sliding down his face. "i'm trying really hard not to be mad at you because maybe you don't get it, but what you said earlier-"

"i know. it was horrible," she drops the smores ingredients on the floor so she can wrap her arms around him. "god, i'm horrible."

"did you mean it? what you said?"

"when we were in the car, yes," she pulls back so she's looking at him. her hands are still clasped behind him, fingers gently brushing against the nape of his neck. "i meant every word i said that night. but today, you brought jackie, and i didn't want her here. the things she said, and the fact that you two were sleeping with each other...i took it out on you when i shouldn't have. im sorry."

"i didn't know that she thought-" harry doesn't really know why he's sobbing so hard, but he can't stop. the rest of his sentence is stuck in his throat.

"i know," her hand cradles the back of harry's head, softly guiding his face into her shoulder. "i am so, so sorry."

they stand in the pantry for a little while. harry's face is pressed against her neck, and her hands are rubbing his back. she's gently rocking them side to side and harry feels a little sick for letting himself melt into her so easily. he's crying because of her, yet part of him knows he'd let lynn make him feel the way she did today a hundred times over if it meant she'd hold him so close that he could smell the vanilla on her skin.

"what i told you that night, it's not something i usually share," he says, voice a little scratchy. "i really don't want it brought up ever again."

"it won't be. i promise."

harry steps back, palms pressed to his eyes. "i'm sorry for crying this much. i just need a second."

"you have no reason to apologize," lynn's bending down to pick up the items she dropped. "i really am so sorry, harry."

"i know you are. it's okay," harry takes a deep breath and then grabs the chocolate bars from her, holding them in the air. "i think we've kept jane waiting long enough." he reaches for lynn's hand before opening the pantry door for the two. when they step out, peter's standing in the kitchen, staring at them. he's got a beer in his hand, and harry can tell by the way his eyes are glassed over that he wasn't really tuned in on their conversation.

lynn doesn't even acknowledge her father's presence. instead, she wraps herself around harry's arm and pulls him outside with her.

he roasts jane's marshmallow with lynn sitting on his knees, and after hearing harry say he likes his burnt, she decides that she does, too. which makes everything easier for harry and everything harder for silas who took on the chore of building the actual s'more.

when they're finished, lynn leans back against harry's chest, voice soft, "do you think we could be okay, or is tonight it for us?"

he looks over to see jane sitting on silas's lap, her hands and now silas's shirt covered in sticky marshmallow and decides that he could tolerate lynn's mood swings if it meant getting to experience this kind of normalcy again. honestly, today wasn't really normal. it was messy and chaotic and everything that comes with having a family this big, but harry misses the crazy family reunions and loud birthday dinners that came with his own family and maybe holiday picnics like this could fill that void.

"i think we could be okay again," the intensity of his voice matches her, and he can feel her relax into him when he speaks.

the group moves to the park where lynn and harry first met to watch the fireworks put on by the neighborhood. halfway there, jane starts whining about her legs hurting and that's how harry ends up with her on his shoulders.

marianne and john are there when they get there, and they're sitting on a blanket and talking to gemma and drew. harry can't remember the last time his parents came to the event, and he can't help but wonder if that was because they just never invited him.

amelia joins them, too, leaving her group of friends. she takes jane from harry, and silas follows them, leaving only harry and lynn to share the blanket she had brought.

when the fireworks start, she's sitting next to harry with her head on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his. her fingers are brushing against his knuckles, and when she leans back to look at harry to see if he's enjoying it, he's already looking at her.

his free hand reaches for her face before he dips his head down and kisses her. if she were to ask about it later, harry would say it was because both of their families were around. not because he wanted to.

(he kind of did.)

22 JULY 2018

growing up, summer was harry's favorite season. summer meant longer days full of warm sunshine. it meant spending the weekdays at his nana's house, sitting poolside and eating the delicious homemade ice cream she made for him and gemma. her two favorite grandchildren, she used to say. he spent saturday mornings at soccer practice and afternoons at oliver's house where he'd stay until sunday evenings. his mom always picked him up with a hot meal ready for the jones family.

as he grew older, saturday morning soccer practice turned into rehearsing lines over breakfast with oliver. he'd driver them both to the boy's house (or occasionally his) friday after school and they'd leave together the following monday morning where they'd stop at the small coffee shop across town to get oliver his favorite coffee. really, harry hated coffee, but a hazelnut latte made by nora always made oli smile. and he loved seeing him smile.

maybe that's why weekends spent together went from playing video games in his parent's basement and sleeping on old recliners to sleeping in the boy's bed with his face buried in harry's neck, his lips pressing soft kisses on his shoulders.

so, by the time harry was a teenager, he not only loved summers, but he also loved the boy that he swore hung the stars in the sky and painted the grass green.

his favorite were the lazy afternoons they'd spend in his bed. the sun would peek through the blinds warming their skin, and oliver would mumble something about how they really needed to wake up before pulling harry closer and closing his eyes again. they'd wake up when his mom would come home from work, and they'd meet her downstairs. she always stood in the kitchen, standing over the stove and wearing a smile that was warmer than the sun outside.

harry practically spent his sophomore and junior year living at the jones's house. that family made him feel seen and safe and loved and so many other things, but not a single one of them was bad. his parents were so incredibly supportive of not only oliver, but harry, too. they always sat center of every single play he was in, regardless if oliver was in it or not.

his mom used to take the sweetest, most love-filled candids of the boys (some of which harry still had saved on his phone in a hidden album), and his dad even got him him first ever job working at his landscaping company. the jones's opened their home and their hearts for him in a way that harry would be forever grateful for for the rest of his life.

sometimes he thinks about reaching out to them, and offering the sincerest of thank you's. but every time his finger hovers over the send button, he decides against it, remembering the way the two looked at him the last time he saw them.

they had picked him up from his first ever party after he called them absolutely obliterated, even though it was in the middle of the night, and even though harry had broken their son's heart a week prior.

he cried in the backseat on the way back to his parent's house. he doesn't know how many times he said he was sorry, but mrs. jones looked over her shoulder at one point, saying, "we are, too, harry."

so, now, harry hates summer and it's long days and short nights. each excruciating minute of daylight that passes is usually spent with nothing but his thoughts and the cheapest bottle of hard liquor he could find.

harry had created the perfect routine.

4PM: wake up

4:05PM: get drunk

9:30PM: make an appearance at a party

3:00AM: contemplate his existence

3:03AM: spiral

3:05AM: go to sleep

the familiarity of it all was almost comforting.

however, all good things come to an end because at 1:20PM on this sunny sunday afternoon, harry was crouched next to an overflowing trash can, watching jane look for him from across the park. the sun was beating on his black t-shirt, burning the skin of his back, and he could feel the sweat droplets already forming on his neck.

the park was packed with kids. most of them were still dressed in their sunday best with a pair of ratty old tennis shoes on their feet, and he guessed it was the after church rush. they were loud and obnoxious, but watching the grin grow on janey's face as they made eye contact made every second spent here worth it.

a month ago, harry would have rather killed himself than be at a place like this, especially on a weekend. he hated the heat, he hated the noise, and most importantly, he hated kids. well most kids, with jane and amelia now being the only exceptions.

when he first met them, he thought that he would have to sit next to the two at an occasional family dinner and maybe laugh at a few of jane's unfunny jokes. and really, that was how it started, but it wasn't soon after that harry began to realize that lynn's parents weren't really as present as they seemed to be.

after jane's first dance recital, it was only ever lynn and harry in the crowd. she never invited him to family dinners, and she was often late to his own, usually meeting at his parents house after having dropped her sisters off at their house. when gemma had asked if they wanted to grab a drink with her and andy, lynn couldn't because her sisters were sleeping over and she couldn't be out late, and when she did make it to a lunch (which was during gemma's short lunch break), it was only because amelia agreed to watch jane for the hour.

both of the girls had their own drawer full of clothes at lynn's place, and there was three sets of shampoos and body washes in her shower accompanied by three loofahs hanging on their own hooks. she had a carseat for jane in her car and an old booster seat hidden in the top of one of her closets which harry guesses to be amelia's from years ago.

he felt bad that all of these responsibilities were dumped on lynn, and he felt even worse for jane and amelia. harry decided that he could sit through a few barbie movies and color a few pages in a coloring book if it meant lynn could have a break, and jane wasn't left to entertain herself.

the little girl ran towards him, giggles falling from her mouth as she did. jane leapt towards him when she was close enough, her arms clinging around his neck and her feet around his waist, "found you."

"you did," harry's fingers tickled her sides. "let's go get that ice cream i promised you."

lynn went into the bakery today, and harry had so graciously offered to relieve her of her babysitting duties. really, he owed her big time. lynn had went to check on harry after he had intentionally been ignoring her for a few days, and she unfortunately walked in on him and some girl from the bar.

if that wasn't embarrassing enough, harry cried as soon as her saw her standing in the doorway with her face in her hands. he still blames what happened next on the liquor, but he didn't really remember much of that night (like who the girl was, when she left, how he got dressed, and why lynn was sitting on the edge of his bed). the feeling came bubbling up in his throat so quickly. he felt almost frozen, and ended up throwing up all over his bed and all over lynn.

that only made him cry harder. it was the kind of sob that dug deep into your chest and came back up feeling like it was ripping you apart from the inside out.

lynn showered first, and harry sat against the bathroom door, offering thousands of drunken apologies and also a pair of his most comfortable sweatpants and an old tshirt that was so worn it felt silky. they didn't speak at all after that, but after harry's shower, he was greeted by a freshly made bed and the faint sound of his washing machine running.

lynn was under the covers of his bed and harry could see the blush pink sheets bunched around her waist. she set her phone down when she saw him, and patted the spot next to her. "i was coming back from doing laundry at my parents, and i didn't know where you kept your spares."

he could only muster up enough strength to nod before collapsing into bed next to her. she was looking down at him, and he felt like she was looking down on him, too. he cried some more.

harry expected lynn to leave, but instead she rolled on to her side to face harry. she rested her hand on his cheek, her thumb wiping away any and all tears of his that fell. she smelled like him and his bed smelled like her and everything was not enough yet so much at once. he was absolutely exhausted. so, harry let his eyes close and fell asleep to lynn caressing his face with her fingers softly running against the back of his neck like they often did. it all seemed a little too intimate, but when harry woke up, lynn was gone, and the two hadn't spoken since. she never texted or called and harry was too embarrassed to be the one to do it first.

"i want the green ice cream like you," jane says. she's sat on his hip watching the worker scoop out his double scoop of mint chip.

"you don't like mint," she scowls at him. "how about you get the chocolate chip? that way we're still matching with the chocolate pieces."

"hmmmmm," jane taps her finger on her chin like she's in deep thought just like lynn does when she thinks. "i guess so."

harry hands jane her ice cream, and moves to the counter to pay. lynn's bakery was just around the corner, and he knew that she would be joining them when she was finished so they could go back to his apartment for her car, so he orders a third ice cream for her (chocolate with rainbow sprinkles). she had ordered it the day he had met her family at jane's dance recital, and he figured it was something she liked.

"you were right," she talks with her mouth full of ice cream, and it makes harry's skin crawl.

"about what, sunflower?"

"this is good," harry can feel her feet kicking under the table. he wishes he could be that young again, where his biggest worry would be wondering if he would like chocolate chips and vanilla ice cream together.

he sees lynn walking through the door over jane's head. she's got a finger pressed to her lips and harry can tell she's walking on her tip toes. she walks slowly all the way up to their table, and wraps her arms around jane from behind.

"hi baby," she kisses the top of jane's head before moving over to harry and doing the exact same thing to him. "and my other baby."

her arms are warm against his skin, and he can feel her lips in his hair before she moves across from him and takes a seat next to jane.

her hair's pulled away from her face, and she has flour dusting her (harry's) sweatshirt. she smells like strawberries and her usual warm vanilla, and when she sees the third bowl of ice cream on the table, she looks at him with a smile warmer than her skin sitting on her lips.

"how was work?" harry asks. he pushes the chocolate ice cream towards her, and she scrapes the sprinkles off and into jane's bowl.

"it was so good," she says. "i had quite a few orders to catch up on."

she speaks so slowly. the words are falling off of her tongue like they're honey and she's leaning all the way against the wall, like the weight of her was just too much for her hold up for a second longer. harry doesn't think he's ever seen her so relaxed.

"mom's coming to get you, jane," lynn speaks around a spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

"can't i just stay with you?" jane's folding her hands together in front of her face. she's looking up at lynn with big eyes and her bottom lip pushed out. "please?"

"no, i'm spending time with harry tonight," harry expects jane to ask again, but she just sighs, turning her attention back to her ice cream.

kathleen comes a few minutes later. she's dressed in a freshly pressed business suit, and she walks in on what seemed like an important phone call. she only mutes it for a second, just long enough to ask harry where he planned on taking lynn to dinner tonight.

"i'm cooking," harry says. really, he could not recall a single plan they had made, and he can't tell if there was actually something they were supposed to do.

"oh, she'll love that," kathleen deadpans, almost like lynn's talked bad about his cooking before, and then she leaves. no thank you to harry, and no thank you to lynn, who spent more time with her children than she did.

"classic kathy," lynn stretches her arms above her head, and yawns. "thank you for watching her, and for the ice cream... and for letting me have some of yours, too."

harry smiles, and then, he really can't help himself, "you spend more time with jane and amelia than she does."

"and that's why i've kept you around," she says. "you don't know how many times i've gotten out of babysitting by saying you had something planned for us."

"and here i thought you liked having me around, lynn," she gives him one of those warm smiles again. one so bright that harry can't help but to smile back. "do you want dinner? we can get takeout on the way to mine."

"okay," lynn replies. "my treat."

and really, who was harry to argue with that?

✮✮✮

lynn sat on harry's couch, her feet tucked underneath her. she had a container of lo mein in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, and her eyes were focused on the tv where harry was scrolling through the netflix recommended tab for what felt like the hundredth time.

"are you on something?" harry's voice comes from the other side of the couch. his eyes are glued on the tv screen as he speaks, finally settling on some new release that lynn hasnt even heard of.

"what?" she raises her eyebrows. "what makes you think that?"

"you seem so relaxed," he shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth, and the way he holds the spoon is so childlike, lynn can't help but laugh. "what?"

she shakes her head. normally, she'd love to make a little dig at harry, but after what happened the last time she was over, she didn't know just how far she could push him. "i like my job, harry. that's all."

and it was true. she loves her job, especially the long days she gets to spend in the bakery with the lights so dim she could barely make out the order sheets that were left behind by her staff. they all worked so hard, and made lynn's life a hundred times easier. the least she could do (besides paying them a decent salary) was go in to play catch up while they all got to enjoy a day off.

lynn technically started her business when she was a child. she had seen one of those 'tasty time' episodes on disney and was a little more than inspired. summer days were spent perfecting her recipes with elena. the woman would write down the recipes inside composition notebooks with glitter pens as they went. sometimes they got it right the first time, and other times they had to break out elena's stash of white out.

out of the fifteen notebooks they managed to fill in their time together, lynn used just a few of those recipes today. six to be exact, and they were sold both individually and in a pack which was named 'the base-ics'. the flavors were pretty simple, and they were the base of everything that she, with the help of elena, had created today.

whenever she thinks about elena, there's a deep ache that makes its way inside of her chest and then down to the pit of her stomach. lynn doesn't think there's a single person in the world that she'll love more than she loved elena. the woman practically raised her, and then once amelia turned two, elena never came back and kathleen left lynn to fill the au pair's shoes.

harry finishes his take out container of rice first, but he waits for lynn to finish hers before taking everything to the kitchen and returning back with two mugs in his hands.

"tea?"

"sure, thank you," lynn takes the cup from him and then stretches her legs all the way across the couch. it was meant to annoy harry for no other reason than her own enjoyment, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he sits on the floor, his back leaning against the bottom part of the couch. when the episode ends, harry leans back so his head is on the cushion, and he's looking at lynn. "do we have to talk about it?"

and by the way he's looking at her, she knows exactly what he's talking about. the night she spent in his clothes and in his bed.

she'll admit that his lack of responses did worry her a little bit, but after her seventeenth text (she counted), the no replies made her more furious than anything. she went over to his apartment after the most grueling dinner with kathy and peter, and was intending on absolutely ripping his head off because she had showed up for everything he had asked her to, and he couldn't even give a text back.

"not if you don't want to," her fingers brush his hair away from his face, and she can feel the air from his sigh of relief on her skin. "you should've told me that you don't have a guest room, harry. i didn't know i was kicking you out of your bed every time i stayed over."

pink floods his cheeks so quickly that lynn can feel the heat radiating off of them. "i don't mind."

"you should," she says. "where do you sleep when i'm here?"

"i keep a few extra pillows and blankets in the closet of the office," he clears his throat. "usually on the couch or the office floor."

"you deserve your bed. next time i'm over i'll take the floor."

silence falls over them, but harry's still looking at her in a way that she can't really read. it feels like it's been forever since she's gotten to take harry in like this. his hair was messy and still a little damp from the shower he had taken before they ate. his skin was tanner than when she first met him, the green of his eyes seemed brighter, and his lips looked softer, but maybe that was because she knew how they felt pressed against her own.

"take a picture," he smiles one of those lopsided smiles. "it'll last longer."

and she doesn't really know what possesses her to, but she does before turning her phone around for harry to see. "it's cute. i think i'll keep it."

harry hums and closes his eyes, and lynn can't help it when she involuntarily reaches out and lets the back of her hand brush across his cheek. she still thinks about what she said to him at her fourth of july party and the way he cried that night when she can't sleep. she never wants to make him feel like that ever again.

"can you do dinner with my parents tomorrow? my mom's been asking about you," he speaks with his eyes close and presses his lips to the back of lynn's hand before sitting up.

"i can't," she says. "that's what i was calling you about. we're going on vacation for jane's birthday. she wanted you to come."

"when?" his whole body is turned to her now. "god, lynn. i'm sorry."

"don't be, really. we're leaving tomorrow so it's really not-."

harry stands up and disappears into what lynn had once thought was the guest room, and comes back out with his laptop. he picks up her feet and sits down before letting them rest on his knees.

"here," he turns his laptop towards her with the page for google flights pulled up. "put in all the dates and everything."

and so she does, and nearly winces at the big, green '$803' that pops up on the screen. "harry, that's crazy. we can get a cupcake or something when we're back."

"it's okay if i book this? there's room for me still?"

"there's room, but-" lynn's cut off by the sound of the mouse clicking and harry closing his laptop.

"daddy's money," harry says. "he'll be fine."

"another reason for him to hate me."

"he doesn't hate you, lynn," his voice is unconvincing, and he's already changing the subject before she can press further. "where are we even going?"

"flying into miami and then we have to drive. just a typical beach vacation."

he nods. "okay. send me a bill for whatever i owe you. i'll venmo or zelle or whatever-"

"no need," lynn interrupts him. "mommy's money."

lynn sits on harry's bed next to his open suitcase while he brings out stacks upon stacks of clothing, not really knowing what he should pack. it was a little comical to see him run around, stressing over what to wear as if peter and kathleen really cared. when he found out her aunt cece was coming too, he dumped all of the contents out of the suitcase and restarted, claiming that he needed to impress her and that straight people wouldn't understand.

when he's in his closet, lynn slips a few tshirts and a pair of swim trunks that harry had decided to leave behind in a pile on his dresser. she'll admit, mick jagger comments aside, harry was a good dresser, great even. he was packing all of these button ups and shorts and jeans, and she just wanted him to have some more comfy options if ended up wanting them.

(and also she kind of wanted to see him in the bright yellow swim shorts.)

it's nearing midnight when she finally leaves. harry walks her to the door, and when they open it, jackie's coming up the staircase. lynn does the only logical thing she can think of and kisses harry. he seems a little surprised, but once he realizes what lynn's doing, he leans into her more so they're stepping out into the hallway and sucks on her mouth in a way that has some pretty obscene sounds coming from the two of them. he kisses her with one arm wrapped around her waist and his other hand holding her face. lynn tries her best to not think about the way he whines into her mouth after every suck or just how good his mouth feels against her.

they break apart when jackie's door slams shut, and harry presses his lips softly against the corner of her mouth twice before letting her go.

"i'm sorry," she watches as he wipes the wetness off of his lips with his tonguge. "that was.. i shouldn't have."

"i kind of owed you anyways. from the other night," his face glows pink at the thought of it. "plus we should probably kiss more anyways. we're supposed to be comfortable with each other right?"

"yeah, yeah," she nods. "you're right."

"can't have you looking all rigid every time i try to hold your hand on vacation," a teasing smile makes it's way to his lips. "i'll see you tomorrow, lynn."

"goodnight, harry," she hears him close the door when she steps into the elevator, and as soon as the doors shut she feels her heartbeat speed up.

✰✰✰

a/n: i literally have nooo idea how i forgot to post the 22 !!!! i feel like so many other parts allude to this one too

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astrangetorpedo · 6 months

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boygenius: “This is the time we finally get to be around each other – we’re gonna enjoy it”

As they release The Record, one of the year's most anticipated and acclaimed debut albums, we meet Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus and Julien Baker in New York City to discuss their unique creative bond

by Gemma Samways

Tonight, the room is playing host to the 36th annual Tibet House US Benefit. Curated by Philip Glass – and featuring Laurie Anderson, Arooj Aftab and Bernard Sumner and Tom Chapman of New Order – the line-up reads like a particularly A-list episode of Later with… Jools Holland. It soon transpires its staging is similarly chaotic, with the event running approximately an hour behind schedule and artists often walking onstage unannounced.

boygenius are one of the few acts to enjoy a proper introduction. Added to the bill just 24 hours ago, their first public appearance in almost half a decade has prompted a frenzied, last minute scramble for seats, with $35 tickets exchanging hands for ten times that amount. A day later, in a photo studio in the East Village following our shoot at Jane’s Carousel in Brooklyn, the trio admit to having felt a little freaked out in the build-up.

“I was really emotional because I’ve been obsessed with Nina Simone’s Carnegie Hall album of late,” Lucy Dacus confides, sat on the sofa, sandwiched between her bandmates. Julien Baker nods, confessing to having been “so stressed about doing my job that I couldn’t fully absorb that I was playing alongside living legends.” Meanwhile, Phoebe Bridgers was still semi-delirious with jetlag, having recently landed back in the US from Japan.

“Look at this photo,” she laughs, extending her phone to me. Taken pre-gig, it shows her passed out on the dressing room floor while Lucy smirks in the foreground. “With full make-up, I look like I’m in an open casket. And because Julien was playing piano, I was having Julien-fuelled dreams.”

Certainly there were no visible signs of unease as they stepped out onstage to play stripped-back versions of ‘Not Strong Enough’ and ‘Cool About It’ – taken from their long-awaited debut album The Record – for the first time. And despite the all-star bill, the supergroup proved one of the night’s biggest draws, eliciting excited whoops from an audience who had greeted every other performer with respectfully restrained applause. Ultimately, once they started playing, they enjoyed the experience.

Less gratifying was the discovery that a group of particularly intrusive fans had tracked down their hotel after the show. “They were like, ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe’,” Lucy shudders. “And it’s like, ‘No, we aren’t: how’d you find out where we are? That’s stalking. Don’t do this.

Phoebe continues: “I mean, interactions with fans can be really sweet, especially when it’s a show like Carnegie Hall which might’ve been hard to get tickets to. But often there’s this weird thing where the rudest people bubble to the top, and the poor kid who just wants their record signed is too nice to ask. And so, while I’m trying to escape the fucking full-grown man who just grabbed me, I’m ignoring the sweet kid.

It’s fair to say a certain level of hysteria has surrounded boygenius ever since their formation. Five years ago they were all ascendant stars of the alternative scene, with the Tennessee-born Baker and Richmond, Virginia-raised Dacus being the most established, with two acclaimed albums each. By the end of 2018, the trio were being breathlessly billed by Vogue as “the Infinity War of female-led indie-rock outfits,” while their self-titled EP received widespread praise.

Objectively, it’s a collaboration that made – and still makes – total sense. Despite outgrowing their respective DIY scenes, they had each retained a fiercely independent outlook and an emotional authenticity, and that struck a chord with similarly principled, serotonin-starved audiences. Just as tantalisingly, interviews and social media interactions revealed that they didn’t take themselves especially seriously and seemed keen to distance themselves from the pedestal that fans were so intent on putting them on.

“It’s probably refreshing that we’re not character artists,” Lucy says when asked to summarise the appeal of boygenius. “Because ultimately we’re talking to you now how we usually talk to each other. Even when I’m doing my own [solo] stuff, I present a curated version of myself – like, I pick one aspect of my character per album to share. But with this band it’s totally artless.”

It’s not hyperbolic to suggest that The Record is one of the most anticipated albums of the year. To some degree that demand can be explained by Baker and Dacus expanding their fanbases further off the back of their 2021 solo records Little Oblivions and Home Video. But the real responsibility for the band’s reach surely lies at the feet of Bridgers, whose second album was nothing short of a cultural phenomenon.

Unanimously agreed to be one of 2020’s standout records, Punisher propelled the Pasadena-raised artist into music’s A-list, resulting in four Grammy nominations, an offer to found her own label (Saddest Factory, home to MUNA) and invites to collaborate with household names like Paul McCartney, SZA, Lorde and The 1975. Just days after our interview Phoebe is named one of Time’s 2023 Women of the Year, alongside Cate Blanchett and Megan Rapinoe. This coming May she will open for Taylor Swift in Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and New Jersey.

Despite the difference in their public profiles, the power dynamic in boygenius appears impressively balanced. A friendship first and foremost, they’ve signed the contract by acquiring matching tattoos of a tooth and of a cluster of goblets, the latter inspired by the tarot card the three of cups.

“That’s based on the first tarot reading Julien ever got,” Lucy – the band’s resident tarot expert – recalls fondly. “We were all together and that’s the first card she pulled. Plus it’s three women partying. Friendship is the highest form of love and that felt like a sweet entry into that world.”

Having been raised in the world of evangelical Christianity, Julien was initially resistant to the idea of tarot. “When you started doing a reading, I got up and sat in the tour van by myself because I thought God was gonna steal my soul,” she explains, totally serious.

“Does God do that?!” Phoebe laughs, incredulous.

“Yes! In [the book of] Samuel! But then I was like, ‘Alright, I trust you guys. I guess you can guide me through this.’ That was a fear that you guys helped me dismantle. Because by watching you engage with it, I realised that this was a tool for self-interrogation, not for summoning the devil.”

Within the band, all decisions are made democratically and affectionate ribbings are a big part of their social currency. “Roasting each other is an act of love,” Julien reasons, to the others’ approval. “If your friends aren’t talking shit about you, I don’t think they care about you.”

With Phoebe based in Los Angeles, Lucy in Philadelphia and Julien in Memphis, they largely stay in touch via group chat and FaceTime – a support network they all clearly cherish. “I can text cold something horrible that happened to me and not feel the pressure to look at my phone for hours,” says Phoebe. “But when I do I’ll see a bunch of validation.”

Julien concurs: “It’s neat that we can confide in each other. Because sometimes my sense of imposter syndrome makes me not want to talk about how excited I am about this with friends who don’t work in music. I’m talking to them like, ‘You gotta get on a plane super early and carry all this heavy equipment, so it’s not all fun.’ And having people understand it’s a job and that I’m dedicated to it is very important. But equally, with y’all I get to be like, ‘Shit’s so fucking sick!’ Like, in this band I get to be the type of excited and thankful that lacks decorum, especially when there are so many talented people in my life where our roles could have been switched in an alternate timeline.”

The roots of boygenius were laid in 2016, when Julien and Lucy performed on the same bill in Washington, D.C., followed by Julien meeting Phoebe a month later. When a canny promoter booked all three to tour together in 2018, they decided to record a collaborative seven-inch, a creative experiment that proved so fruitful they emerged with their eponymous EP.

By all accounts, the story behind The Record is similarly stress-free. Phoebe kickstarted the creative process just a week after releasing Punisher, sending a demo of ‘Emily, I’m Sorry’ to Lucy and Julien with the words, “Can we be a band again?” From there, the floodgates opened, with all three uploading demos to a shared drive, followed by two in-person writing trips – one in Healdsburg, California in April 2021 and another in Malibu in August of the same year.

Though carefully scheduled due to their individual work commitments, Lucy describes these retreats as anything but regimented. “We didn’t intend to work that hard,” she insists. “If anything, the regimen would have included breaks and we didn’t allow ourselves those.” Julien expands, “We’d be like, ‘Okay, today is a chill day,” but then we could not stop thinking about the record. And it’s just nice to be around a bunch of people who are passionate about the exact same thing.”

After whittling down the demos from a pool of 25, the final 12 were recorded at Rick Rubin’s Shangri-La studio in January 2022, with the help of co-producer Catherine Marks (Wolf Alice, Foals, PJ Harvey). Lucy specifically cites Marks’ work with Manchester Orchestra as a motivating factor for them initially reaching out, and Phoebe enthuses about her hands-on approach. “She’s the kind of producer that immediately kicks off their shoes. Wait, I’m gonna text her and tell her we’re talking about her.” She takes a group selfie of them all grinning, flicking Vs, and hits send.

Other key contributors included engineer and producer Sarah Tudzin (Slowdive, Weyes Blood), plus Jay Som’s Melina Duterte on bass. Melina will also appear as part of Boygenius’ seven-strong touring line-up, set to be unveiled at Coachella in April. Given that their band name specifically mocks society’s tendency to unfairly exalt male creatives, the idea of boygenius assembling a largely female team for this album feels satisfyingly utopian. Today, they insist it was purely circumstantial.

“They are the best people we could think of,” says Lucy. “Some days I’m like, ten-year-old me would feel that this is very important. But also there are days where I’m like, we’re doing press right now and it’s completely uninteresting that we’re women. Why are we talking about this?”

“Plus, it’s not a given that if you work with women you’re not also working with a bunch of assholes,” Phoebe grins. “Fortunately, we picked a bunch of people who aren’t assholes.” Lucy laughs. “Women can be assholes: there’s your pull quote.”

Sonically, The Record is a much richer, more ambitious collection than anything boygenius have produced previously, taking in widescreen folk-rock (‘Not Strong Enough’) and low-slung punk (‘Satanist’, ‘$20’), campfire folk (‘Cool About It’, ‘Leonard Cohen’) and string-flecked dream-pop (‘Revolution 0’), plus a swooning a cappella piece shaped around a lush three-part harmony (‘Without You Without Them’).

Though written by Lucy, Phoebe can take full credit for unearthing the latter. “I was like, ‘I want a song that’s like ‘Blue Velvet’.’ And Lucy’s like, ‘Oh… Actually I might have a song…’ And I’m like, ‘What the fuck are you talking about?!’”

“It was a washing the dishes song.” Lucy protests, smiling. “There’s, like, this whole category of songs that I don’t show people. And I didn’t think of that as a ‘me’ song because it doesn’t sound like what I do, you know? But Phoebe was like, ‘We have to do it.’ Plus, I like that it kind of picks up where we left off with ‘Ketchum, ID’ [from their 2018 EP]. So I’m glad you made us do that.”

This process of mutual encouragement is integral to the band. They’re the first to admit they’re one another’s fiercest supporters, to the extent they accidentally plagiarise each other on a regular basis. “I totally wrote ‘Garden Song’ the other day,” Julien tells Phoebe, who cheerfully bats back. “‘Revolution 0’ is basically me ripping off ‘Good News.’”

Jokes aside, all three songwriters boast instantly recognisable styles, as demonstrated by the triumvirate of singles with which they announced The Record. ‘Emily, I’m Sorry’ is quintessential Phoebe Bridgers, a slice of folky introspection that wouldn’t sound out of place on Punisher, while ‘True Blue’ showcases the quietly anthemic indie-rock that Lucy has made her calling card. Meanwhile, the buoyant ‘$20’ sees former hardcore kid Julien leaning into her love of riffing.

With most structures initially emanating from one particular songwriter, it does beg the question, what makes a track right for the band rather than remaining a solo endeavour? According to Phoebe, she relies on a type of benign Spidey-Sense. “I always know when I’m writing a boygenius song. Even with ‘Me And My Dog’ I was like, ‘I don’t think this is a solo record song.’”

Lucy is more specific. “A lot of times I’ll write a song for us in a different frame of mind, so you can be harmonising with me and saying something that’s still true for you. I don’t want to make either of you sing lyrics that don’t resonate with you.”

“I really struggle with that,” Phoebe says. “So much of my music is directly my point of view and so specific.”

“Totally,” Lucy nods, “I feel like on a lot of your songs we’re supporting…”

“…like a chorus in a Greek play,” replies Julien, finishing Lucy’s thought. “We’re not a part of the action: we’re standing behind, commenting on or observing it. But these songs only exist because we made The Record. They’re an article of the endeavour rather than a pre-planned thing.”

Lucy takes the final word on the subject. “These aren’t solo songs that we donated to each other: we had to be together to make it.”

Lyrically, The Record treads a tightrope between deadpan humour and quiet devastation. The opening line of ‘We’re In Love’ sees Lucy resolutely opting for the latter, singing, “You could absolutely break my heart / That’s how I know that we’re in love.” ‘Leonard Cohen’ falls firmly into the former camp, delivering a frontrunner for lyric of the year in: “Leonard Cohen once said there’s a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in / And I am not an old man having an existential crisis / In a Buddhist monastery / Writing horny poetry / But I agree.”

“I think my songs have a theme of being known and feeling present,” Lucy reflects. “Because I don’t feel that at all points in my life, I’m expressing my gratitude for that.” Phoebe sees her contributions as aspirational; evidence of the very process of self-improvement. “Each of the songs I contributed have a vibe of me trying my absolute hardest to not float ten inches above my body at all times. And you guys have helped me with that, so it makes sense that it would make the album.”

‘Not Strong Enough’ is perhaps their most collaborative song: a patchwork of ideas in which each band member takes a verse, as Julien jokes, “boyband-style”. Musically, it’s also the album’s most uplifting moment, its bright melody providing a smokescreen for lyrics exploring panic attacks and low self-esteem. When I point out the deception, Phoebe laughs. “You know the meme of the pink house and the black house next to each other, where it’s like one is the music and the other is the lyrics? That’s literally a couple miles from where we recorded our album. We’ve been talking about taking a photo in front of it for years.”

After an hour in their company, it’s not difficult to see why boygenius are inspiring such levels of adoration. A tight-knit gang of smart, talented, young songwriters, they’re the sort of band I wish had existed when I was growing up, even if I am battling to resist the urge to cast them as role models. After all, why should the men of rock be lauded for chaos while women have to be figures of unimpeachable virtue? When I mention the double standard, Lucy rolls her eyes.

“I remember when Phoebe did that Playboy article [in 2020]. People were texting me like, ‘I thought she was a role model for young girls?’ And I was like, 1. You can pose in Playboy and be a role model, and 2. When exactly did she sign up for that?”

“It is tight to me that you got texts and I did not,” Phoebe smiles. “I want to be scary. Like, as women or as queer people, we’re taught that anger is not useful and that forgiveness is the highest form of enlightenment. But I don’t think so. I think that I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to make everybody in a room feel ok when I don’t feel ok. It’s great to have boundaries. And as a band we’re all really good at protecting each other.”

Staying loyal to their DIY roots, boygenius are ultimately motivated by creating a community and enjoying the process of a shared endeavour. “Writing songs for this band is the opposite of saving your darlings for yourself,” Julien explains. “I want to bring the best possible offering to the band because it’s my favourite thing. It feels good to give the songs away.”

“Seriously, we have been looking forward to this time together for years,” says Phoebe. “This is the time we finally get to be around each other so we’re gonna enjoy it.”

(x) 4/5/23

#don’t mind me i just live in fear that these interviews will be taken offline djsjskdjs #boygenuis #julien baker #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers #interview #archival #april 2023

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