#I know the couch isn’t exactly like the show but my creative juices were running out by that point 💀

[juneofbones]

Merry Sinsmas one and all

[moostaronce]

Divine Interruption

Request: hii if you're ok w it I would like to request a a hyejoo x fem reader fluffy scenario where the reader is busy (with college stuff) but hye wants her attention. thx <3

Pairing: Olivia Hye x Fem Reader

Just one more hour. If I wait just one more hour she’ll be done.

That was all Hyejoo could think watching you slumped over your desk. This is the week that BlockBerry Creative gave the members of Loona time off to rest before they get started on their next comeback. Hyejoo was looking forward to it because she thought that would mean spending time with you. Unfortunately for her, you were top of your class for a reason, you were diligent to the point that you worked on every assignment like it was the most important. Right now you were in the middle of a 10-page essay, a PowerPoint presentation, and a mountain of physics homework all due in at least 2 weeks. On top of that you're a RA in your school dorm and tonight you're the one on call.

So much to Hyejoo's dismay, she walks into your dorm room, since your door is almost always unlocked in case of residence needing you, and finds you hunched over your desk. Your girlfriend takes in the sight of you leaning over a stack of papers with your on-call phone sitting next to your books and right within arm's reach. You make no move to look at her, so she can tell you didn't even hear her enter.

She doesn't come to you right away. She heads for your mini kitchen area to make you a sandwich and pour you some juice. When she comes back to your desk, she rests the food in front of you and takes your computer away. You sit there and just blink at the sudden loss of blue light. Hyejoo saves your work and puts your computer to sleep before shutting it.

"Babe what are you doing? I need that." You turn in your swivel chair and can't help but smile at the sight of her sitting on your bed pouting.

"No. Take a break." She huffs and crosses her arms while staring into your very being.

"Maybe I can take a little break." You pull her off the bed and into your lap. "How's my favorite girl?" You hug her around the waist and kiss her on the cheek.

Hyejoo can't help but blush at your closeness and the affection you show her with no hesitance. With you, she always feels like she can be as vulnerable as she wants to because you always take care of her. She will never admit it with her own mouth but she loves to be spoiled by you. The two of you sit there while you listen to her speak and she feeds you the sandwich she made. When your finished eating you stay like that, with your head on her shoulder and her fingers running through your hair.

There is a content feeling radiating from both of you but it only lasts about 10 minutes before your on-call phone starts ringing and you hear a knock at your door.

"RA Y/N! I know you're in there I can hear your phone!" A sobbing young man cried out through your door.

When you look up at Hyejoo, you catch her rolling her eyes in groaning in exasperation. A light pat on her lower back has her moving to sit at the head of your bed, legs and arms crossed in annoyance. Once the door is open you're met with one of your male residents clearly distraught about something and he pushes his way past you before collapsing on your couch with tears of frustrations streaming down his face.

"Hey Jungwoo, what's the matter?"

He turns to you but notices your girlfriend sitting on your bed with her knees to her chest and her head down, through your partially open bedroom door. His face perks up a little bit.

"Um, Sohye broke up with me again." You noticed how he's suddenly distracted and sees his attention on your bedroom door, which you can see is kind of cracked open. Now, you become a little tense but when he whispers to you, his words make you downright angry.

"Who is that in your room? She looks amazing in those shorts." Of course, today had to be one of the days she came to see you in rather large and shorts that maybe reach mid-thigh. You stalk over to the door and slam it shut much to Hyejoo's surprise. When she looks up to see the door closed her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

She gets up and puts her ear to the door to try and hear what's going on but all she hears is aggressive but hushed whispering. Her worry gets the best of her so she slowly opens the door and finds you leaning over the now cowering boy. He looks mortified at this side of you he's never seen but she hears the last of your sentence and she's no closer to understanding the situation.

"-ever talk about her like that ever again, you hear me?"

Jungwoo hesitantly turns his head after seeing her standing there in his peripheral vision. He almost forgets about your threatening position when he sees Hyjoo's face. His jaw drops and his mouth starts moving without his own permission.

"I'm sorry Y/N but your friend is so hot."

You punch the couch right next to his head that has him and Hyejoo startled and staring at you wide-eyed.

"Girlfriend." Your voice is practically a growl when it comes out. He looks up at you puzzled but still scared. "Huh?"

"I'm her girlfriend, dude." Hyejoo shakes her head and comes up to you. She pulls you back from the couch and tells him to leave, which the poor kid does swiftly.

He didn't mean any harm and he decided to apologize later after you cool off a bit. In the meantime, he sends a group text to the others in the dorm suggesting they give you a break today, which everyone agreed to do unless it was an absolute emergency

Hyejoo holds your face in her hands and makes you look her in the eyes. Just the sight of her settles your mood so much that you wind up just pouting. Her smile only gets bigger when you wrap your arms around her waist and rest your head in the crook of her neck.

"You're a big baby you know that." She chuckles lightly when you nod.

"But I'm your big baby, Hye." This time you get a real laugh.

Homework long forgotten, you pull Hyejoo down on the couch and pass her the remote while pulling her into your lap. You could always pick up your homework later, but right now you just needed her close. Of course, Hyejoo isn't going to complain, especially because she's getting exactly what she wanted today. She decides she could pretty much spend all day like this with you, and so you do.

[flowerfan2]

To The Lovers

Patrick/David, 1900 words, A03

Summary:  Patrick’s hopes for a romantic reunion when David returns from Elm Valley don’t go exactly as planned.  S05e04 coda.

******

Patrick taps his fingers on his phone and tries to make himself wait a little bit longer before texting David.  He doesn’t want David to know how weird the past twenty-four hours have been for him.

It’s not as if he doesn’t have anyone else he could hang out with.  It’s just that he’d rather be with David.

After work yesterday he tried to keep busy getting ready for his move, but packing his clothes into two suitcases didn’t take long, and most of his stuff was already in boxes in the back of his car or Ray’s basement.  He didn’t bring a lot with him when he took off for Schitt’s Creek, and the most important part of what he found isn’t something that needs to be packed.

Finally he caves, and sends a text to David.  He composes it carefully, for full effect.  

I got some furniture for the new place.  He attaches a photo of a futon with a mustard yellow and bright orange patterned cover.

It doesn’t take long for David to respond.

I thought we agreed I was responsible for the creative side of things?  And where did you find that hideous monstrosity?

Jocelyn’s neighbor had a yard sale.  I got a dining set, too. He attaches another photo.  He’s particularly proud of this one, he spent a long time searching online to find an image of chairs this rickety.

I am 80% sure that you’re kidding, but on the off chance that you’re not, I just googled the town’s policy on disposing of large items and I can schedule a pickup for Thursday.  Any other unfortunate purchases I should add to the list?

Patrick bites his lip.  It’s not even noon, but he can’t bring himself to care.  He just wants to see David. Why don’t you come over and find out?

Now?

Patrick expected a little more enthusiasm, but texting is weird that way. It’s probably nothing.  David just drove back from Elm Valley this morning, maybe he’s not in the mood to hang out. Yeah.  You can help me organize my new step-in closet.

While ordinarily I would jump at the chance, I’m not sure I’m up for it.

The flutter in Patrick’s stomach is growing.  What’s wrong?

I wouldn’t be very good company.  I drank a rather unfortunate amount last night.

Patrick lets out a long breath and forces himself to unclench his jaw.  It’s nothing to get worried about.  David hasn’t thrown him over for someone he met at karaoke the night before.  Patrick just needs to reset his expectations.

Okay, I totally get it.  But if you change your mind and want to escape your family and spend the afternoon in a quiet, drama-free and practically empty apartment, let me know.

David’s almost instantaneous reply makes him the tiniest bit giddy.  I changed my mind.

An hour later, after Patrick runs a few quick errands, he picks David up at the motel and drives him back to the new apartment.  David looks cozy in his thick black sweatshirt and boots, although the way he grimaces at every loud noise indicates just how unhappy he is with the state of the world.

David walks into the apartment and stops in his tracks, spinning around to look at Patrick.  “You have furniture,” he says, waving his hands.

“Yup.”  Patrick hadn’t wanted to wait to get some essentials, primarily a bed and a sofa.

“And it’s not awful.”

“Glad you approve.  You actually picked out the sofa.”

David walks around it.  “I did?”

Patrick laughs.  “More or less.  About a month ago, when we were watching one of those home shows, you said you liked it.  It’s not exactly the same, but-”

David sits down on the couch, running his fingers over the textured gray fabric.  “How did you remember that?”

Patrick shrugs.  “I just did.”

“We need a throw, maybe a brighter color block to work off the neutral of the sofa.  And a narrow coffee table, and at least one more chair.”

“And I thought maybe an area rug by the bed?”  Patrick sits down next to David.  “It’s going to be nice, right?”

David frowns at Patrick, as if Patrick couldn’t possibly be questioning David’s ability to turn this bland space into an aesthetically pleasing environment.  “Of course it’s going to be nice.”

Patrick is glad one of them is sure about it.  He wants David to like this place, especially after the whole mix-up about whether they were going to move in together.  He had actually been thinking they might christen it today, so to speak, but given David’s hangover, that’s probably not going to happen.  Instead, it’s time to put plan B into action.

“How are you feeling?  I’ve got ibuprofen, and apple juice.”

David’s face does that surprised/embarrassed thing, where his dimples sort of pop in and out as if they’re afraid to commit either way.  “I love apple juice.”

“I know.”  Patrick gets up and moves to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.  He pours David a glass of juice and brings it over, together with the bottle of ibuprofen.

David dutifully takes the pills and drinks down the juice.

“Why don’t you get into bed?”  Patrick asks.  “Close your eyes for a while.”

David bites his lip.  “That’s not very sociable.”

“I’ll come with you.  I’ll bring my laptop and go over some work.”

“You sure?”

In response, Patrick stands up and holds out his hand.  David smiles at him, lips pressed together, and follows him to the bed.

“This headboard is nice,” David says, looking it over.  “But we should really paint the wall.  A soft green to go with the gray.  Fern, or willow.”

“Is willow green?”

David glares at him.  “Some willows are green.”

“Okay.”

David sits on the bed and takes off his boots, and then pulls off his black sweatshirt.  He’s got a plain white t-shirt underneath, and Patrick can’t hide the smile that crosses his face when he sees it – it’s one of his own, just a pedestrian Hanes from a three-pack he bought at a department store.

Patrick climbs up on the bed and slings his arms around David.  “I missed you.”

David freezes just for a moment, as if he’s afraid he’s being teased.  “Really?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.  Silly, right?”  

Patrick feels exposed, but David just looks right into his eyes and shakes his head, giving him a softly twisted smile.  “No.  It’s not silly.”  They share a besotted moment, and then David sighs.   “The whole trip was ridiculous.  I didn’t even get to see the cherry blossoms.”

“You told me,” Patrick says.  He’s got a string of texts a mile long from David, all about how Stevie kidnapped him just so she could see Emir again.  “I checked, and they should still be blooming next weekend, if you want to go.  We could get Stevie to work the store for a few hours.”

“You’d come with me?”  David asks, pulling back to look at him.

“Of course.  Looking at the cherry blossoms by yourself would be creepy.”  Patrick smirks at David, who rolls his eyes, and then offers his face to Patrick for a kiss.  Patrick holds David’s jaw with his hands as he kisses him, rubbing his thumb over his stubble.  But they’ve hardly even gotten into it when David groans and flops back on the bed.

“I’m sorry, I feel like crap,” David says, throwing his arm over his eyes.  “Did I mention I had fourteen polar bear shots?”

“You did.  And apparently there was quite a bit of karaoke.  Stevie was impressed.”

“Ugh, she was not.  She didn’t even stay when I offered to sing to her and her loverboy.”

“Huh, how strange.”

David moves his arm off of his face and squints at Patrick.  “I don’t suppose your recent shopping spree included blackout curtains?”  David sounds truly miserable, and Patrick’s heart goes out to him.

“No, I’m afraid not.  I figured I needed your input on textiles.”  Patrick lies down next to David and gently sets his hand on his stomach, rubbing gently.

“Ugh,” David moans.  “This is awful.  I’m never drinking again.”

“I know, baby,” Patrick soothes.  “Just sleep for a while, you’ll feel better.”  He sits up and tugs at the duvet until it’s covering them both, and then lies down next to David, tentatively holding out his arm.  “Come here?”

“Mmm, yes.”  David nestles up against him, his face pressed into the space between Patrick’s neck and shoulder, arm around Patrick’s waist and knee curled up over his thigh.  Instant octopus.

Patrick pets David’s head, and tentatively massages his temples.  “That feels good,” David breathes out. “Keep going.” David doesn’t seem in the least concerned about how Patrick is messing up his hair, just melting against his body and sighing in relief.  

Apparently a hungover David is a cuddly David.  Patrick doesn’t mind in the least.  He likes taking care of David.  He’s not sure many people have bothered to look out for him.  And as Patrick sits there watching David’s face relax and his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, he tries not to think too hard about concepts like in sickness and in health.

When David drifts off to sleep, Patrick realizes the flaw in his plan to get some work done, since he neglected to bring his laptop to bed.  He digs his phone out of his pocket, careful not to jostle David, and pages through emails one-handed for a few minutes.  But David is a warm, inviting weight next to him, and suddenly a mid-afternoon nap sounds like the perfect thing.

He slides down next to his boyfriend, wishing he had thought to take off his sweater, and snuggles in close. His body molds itself to David’s, and David sighs in his sleep, shifting to let Patrick rest his head on David’s shoulder.  

They haven’t spent that many nights together, all told, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  Even from the beginning, Patrick has felt safe in David’s arms.  It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before; they fit together perfectly.  It feels right. Patrick brushes his lips across David’s collarbone and closes his eyes.

He blinks into awareness, coming slowly out of a dream about kissing David under the cherry blossoms. David is still conked out.  Patrick shifts, freeing his arm which has fallen asleep, trapped underneath David’s head.  David snuffles and flops over, tucking himself against Patrick’s side.

In a little while Patrick will get up and start thinking about dinner, but for now he’s more than content to snuggle with David in his new bed, in his new life, one that is more perfect than he could ever have imagined.  Later he’ll give David the little brown envelope that’s sitting on his kitchen counter.  It’s just a key, but he hopes David will understand that it’s more than that.  Patrick thinks he will.  

[smoochcal]

numb without you (part twenty-two)

a/n: finals have been draining my creative juices, but I’m done for the semester and I’m hopefully back on my writing grind. enjoy this update as it is inspired by el as always. feedback is much appreciated so please let me know what you think. enjoy a full update in calum’s point of view! read part twenty-one here.

pairing: readerxluke

playlist: numb without you by the maine, messy by twin xl, medicine by new hope club

word count: 1.5k

rating: PG-13

summary: calum goes to visit y/n and is surprised to find her there with luke

warnings: mentions of sex, hostility, swearing

reminders*: Y/N = Your Name; RM/N = Roommate’s Name (Calum’s roommate)

Calum’s POV:

As you inch closer and closer to the arrival of your first-born daughter you find yourself filled with both excitement and fear as you aren’t sure what fatherhood will look like on you. You and Y/N aren’t in the best situation, but you are trying your hardest to make things run smoothly as you don’t want to add extra stress on anyone’s life. You spend a lot of your time these days looking through baby name books and annoying RM/N. She’s nearing the end of her semester of school and you find that her studies are taking up more of her time than either of you would like to admit.

Today in particular RM/N’s head is three feet deep in her textbooks. After bugging her to the point where she seemed completely annoyed with you, you decide to head over to Y/N’s house in the hopes that she will cook you something or at least want to order take out with you. The two of you haven’t spent much time together lately as she is nesting in her apartment and you and RM/N have been spending most of your time together. You know that there was a time where Y/n and Luke were getting closer with one another, but they’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember and you really doubt that Luke had the balls to anything more than give her a peck on the cheek every now and then.

-20 minutes later-

You pull into the parking lot of Y/N’s apartment complex, your stomach already grumbling in anticipation of one of her infamous grilled cheeses. There is a small thought in the back of your mind that is worried that you might be catching Y/N at a bad time, but your hunger gets the best of you and before you know it you are parking your car and walking the all too familiar path to her apartment.

You knock on the door twice and wait for her to answer, the weight of the spare key she gave you weighing down the keyring you are currently holding. After standing awkwardly outside her door for about five minutes, you take it upon yourself to let yourself in. Normally you would’ve just assumed that she wasn’t home, but you saw her car in the parking lot, so you know she has to be inside. You feel a little bit of guilt using the spare key that she gave you, but she gave it to you for a reason. Whether this reason was similar to the reason you’re about to use it is not something you are willing to think about right now as all you’re focused on doing is seeing Y/N and eating something…and soon.

The next minute and forty-two seconds are something you wish you could forget. Moments after walking into Y/N’s apartment you realize why she wasn’t answering her front door. The bedroom door cracked open was the only indicator that someone was home. Her apartment always had this kind of chaotic nature to it. The furniture was mismatched, and the decorations jumbled, but nothing could describe Y/N more. You didn’t want to walk into her room as she was probably taking a nap, but once you heard her squealing from behind the almost closed door you decided to investigate further.

The moment you opened the door you regretted your actions. You expected to see Y/N sleeping peacefully in her bed or watching another telenovela considering her mild obsession with them, but what you actually saw was something you wish you could erase from your memory entirely. The reality of the situation is that you saw Y/N and Luke in the process of taking off each other’s pants, something you never wanted to see…ever.

The minute Y/N saw you she shrieked causing Luke to jump back and nearly give himself a concussion by knocking his head on the wall. You gave them the space and privacy they needed to compose themselves and firmly planted yourself on the couch with your head in your hands. The most alarming part of it all is that Y/N and Luke seemed so comfortable around one another. And you feel absolutely stupid for not noticing it sooner. Luke has always had a thing for Y/N and Y/N has always had a thing for Luke, you just truly didn’t think they would act on their feelings. Or at least not this soon given the circumstances.

About fourteen minutes later both Y/N and Luke come out of Y/N’s bedroom, both looking as mortified as ever. You can feel your cheeks still burning and Y/N gives you a small smile before sitting next to you on her couch. Luke excuses himself to the kitchen where you see him pouring glasses of water for the three of you. You try to break the awkward silence, but you don’t know just where exactly to begin. Luckily Y/N jumps in and starts the conversation first.

“I know I shouldn’t have given you that spare key,” Y/N laughs much to your surprise. You thought she would be as mortified as you are, and maybe she is but she definitely isn’t showing it.

“Oh, come on, you know I didn’t come here with the intention of walking in on you and curly over here…” you start, knowing that statement was way more awkward out loud than it was in your head.

“No we know Calum I’m just messing with you…from the looks of it you didn’t even know Luke and I are dating which is hilarious because everyone else we’ve told said it was way too easy to tell,” Y/N responds, smiling wider at the mention of her and Luke being together.

You were happy for her, happy for them. You know how long the both of them wanted a relationship with the other, but you can’t help but feeling a little betrayed by the whole situation. Obviously, you don’t have those kinds of feelings for Y/N, but a little part of you wanted her to have those kinds of feelings for you. And you know it is selfish you have a loving girlfriend who is supportive of everything you do an almost too cool with the whole soon to be a parent with another woman thing. But some selfish part of you wanted Y/N to have feelings for you because of the whole situation that you are in with her at the moment.

“I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. I can’t believe Luke finally grew some balls and asked you out,” you reply, unable to hold back the snarky nature of your tone.

Luke scoffs at your comment and the blush in your cheeks only seems to grow, but you try your best to not let it get to you. The three of you change the conversation to the baby and how her arrival is getting nearer with each day that passes. You can see the excitement in both Luke and Y/N’s eyes, and you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t find it kind of cute that they were tackling this together. It is actually kind of a relief. You have RM/N on your side, but you worried how Y/N was going to do on her own with your daughter.

You spend about three hours at Y/N’s place before you decide to call it a night and go home to your girlfriend who is probably still studying away. You are happy for her and Luke, truly, but the uneasy feeling is still in the pit of your stomach. Luke had so many years to make his move on Y/N, but of course he had to wait until she was kind of unavailable to actually do something about it. You know you don’t really have the room to be upset, but you can’t help it. You are jealous. Not that you want to be romantically involved with Y/N, both of you are kind of occupied in that sense, but you still are jealous.

You miss Y/N your friend and you are worried that you may never get her back. You’re worried that this whole situation, your one-night stand with her, your daughter as the result of it, everything has changed because of your one mistake. You know you should probably talk this out with someone, but Y/N is in a very emotional state because of the pregnancy and RM/N is busy with her studies and Luke certainly won’t understand. So instead you just sit in your parked car in your driveway wallowing in your own self-pity for what seems like hours.

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Fate (c.e.) (1/6)

Chapter One- Coincidence

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans x Student!OFC

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: fate (noun): the development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. (verb): be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way. 

Amara is about to start her senior year of college with her newly single best friend, Elizabeth. She goes out one night and meets a handsome stranger, Chris. Sparks fly. Fast forward a week and she finds out Chris is her professor. What happens when she also meets Sebastian, a cute guy from another one of her classes?

Series masterlist

“Do you really have to go out tonight? I was hoping we could watch The Notebook and The Last Song again while shoving tons of junk food in our mouths while I bawl my eyes out at how my perfect love story couldn’t be like Ronnie’s and Will’s or Allie’s and Noah’s.” My poor, heartbroken best friend, Elizabeth complains while watching me straighten my hair.

“We’ve been binge-watching Nicholas Sparks movies for the past three days. I need to rejoin civilization, even if you’re not ready to.” I run the straightener down the last chunk of hair before shutting it off and setting it back down in my bathroom sink. I love her to death and I’ve been as supportive as I possibly can through this break-up, but there’s only so much Nicholas Sparks and junk food that a girl can take before she goes nuts.

“But, I’m shattered.” She whines, leaning against the doorway.

“I know, which is why I’m not forcing you to go out with me. You take as much time as you need to recover. Just remember, we start our senior year of college in a week.” I pat the top of her extremely messy bun and continued applying my liquid foundation.

She sulks, “You’re no fun,” before finally leaving me in peace.

I finish with my foundation before moving to my eyebrows. I fill them in with a deep brown eye shadow to shape my heart-shaped face. I apply a shimmer, cream colored eye shadow to my eyelids to make them pop. I use black eyeliner to draw on my top lid. Last, but not least, I added mascara on my top lashes. I spritz some body spray all over for the finishing touch. I double-check my appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of my door. With a nod of satisfaction, I’m finally ready to go.

“Damn, you look hot Rems. You could turn a gay man, straight.” Elizabeth bellows from the couch, covered in numerous blankets and pillows, already snacking on another pint of ice cream. I feel bad leaving her after her asshole of an ex broke up with her after four years together over text message. Oh, the ass-kicking I wanted to deliver to his doorstep… They started dating in high school, went through the long-distance thing while we went away for school and he stayed in our hometown, and beat the odds until recently when all they’ve been doing is fighting. As her best friend since ninth grade, after our common ex screwed her over, thus us becoming friends, I heard all about it. I was starting to think that maybe they weren’t meant for each other and so were they. It technically was a mutual break-up because they both agreed that their relationship wasn’t working anymore, but he instigated it. Therefore, it’s his fault my best friend has been wallowing in self-pity on the couch in our living room for the past seventy-two hours. You can see why I need a break.

I wink her way while slipping my cross-bodied purse over my shoulder. “That was the plan!” I lean over the back of the couch, placing a quick smooch on her cheek. “Call me if you need anything.” Her shaking her head is the last thing I saw before I shut the door. Freedom at last.

I descend the three flights of stairs to the underground garage where my car sits. I climb in and am on my way to my favorite little bar in town. It‘s a Wednesday night so I knew I could escape there without having to be bothered by too many people. I just needed a getaway. I pull into the parking lot moments later and walk in. The bartender knows me because Lizzie and I have worked here since we started school. I find my seat at the bar and my favorite drink is there waiting for me. I chug it down before slamming the glass back on the bar.

“Bad day?” Robert, the bartender and owner, asks already making another one. He’s owned this place for longer than I’ve been alive. He’s almost like a second dad to both Lizzie and me. Without the over-protectiveness and judgmental attitude. And he’s not like other people his age. He likes today’s music, but nothing pop or rap. If anybody blares that “nonsense” in his bar, they are out. He’s more of the rock and alternative type, which he plays in the bar a.k.a. one of the main reasons I come here.

“Bad week. Liz and Robbie broke up on Sunday.” That was all I needed to say for him to have my favorite food ordered. I look around the bar, not surprised to see only handful of people at the tables. Wednesday is a slow night, which is the way I like it. I can hear the music over the speakers better that way instead of everybody’s constant, loud chatter.

I decide to go easy on my second drink now that I got the first one out of the way. I don’t want to get hammered tonight. That isn’t the reason for this outing. I check my phone to see if Lizzie sent me anything only to find nothing, thankfully. I put it back in my purse just as my food is placed in front of me. Deep-fried green beans with ranch dressing and a bacon cheeseburger with pickles, ketchup, and crunchy peanut butter. The chef here calls it the Skippy burger for obvious reasons. It’s the most amazing burger I’ve ever tasted. I will never order anything else from here, ever.

Well after I had inhaled my food  like the lady that I am, I continue to sit at the bar and listen to the music. I take out a small notebook from my purse and continue writing in a book I was writing. I also like coming here because it’s a great place to get my creative juices flowing. It’s basically what I would be doing at my own apartment, the music is just louder and there’s more people around. I was just pausing to think of what to write next, when someone speaks to me.

“Whatchya writin’?”

I look to see who that deep, baritone voice came from. To my right is probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen sitting a couple seats down from me. His golden brown hair is slicked back. His eyes are a light color, but he’s too far away to decipher exactly what color they were. He’s fair skinned and not a blemish in site. He’s smirking at me with beautiful full lips and straight white teeth. He has facial hair, which I normally find revolting, that was hiding an incredible jawline, only added to his sexy factor. And that’s only his face. He’s built. His torso is long and defined. He has broad, muscular shoulders that stretched his poor t-shirt he wore. His arms are thick, too. He could easily bench me more than enough times- and I’m not small by any means. His biceps make the sleeves of his white, short sleeve, V-neck stretch just enough to show how big they truly were. From what I could tell, he looks to be tall- one of his feet is resting easily on the floor while sitting at the bar stool. I can’t touch the floor if I tried. He’s just gorgeous. Plain and simple. And he’s talking to me.

“I’m sorry for prying. You were so intensely writing, I had to ask.” He sends me an apologetic smile which nearly knocked me off this stool. Dear Lord…

Do I be snarky and say mind your own damn business? Or do I tell him the truth about what I’m writing? He seems like a decent guy just from the few sentences he’s thrown my way. And he’s hot. Way too hot to be a bitch to.

“Just jotting down all of the ways I could kill every single person in the bar and make it look like an accident.” So, I decide to go the sarcastic route. At least I had hoped that I came across as cynical and not sound like a total lunatic that needs to be committed. According to the sweet sound of his laughter, I was successful.

“Oh yeah? What are some of those ways?” He inquires, angling his body more towards me preparing for my answer.

I fake a gasp, pressing my notebook to my chest, hiding the “contents” from any prying eyes. “A sociopath never reveals their methods.” His laughter continues, his hand is thrown over his heart, making my heart feel like it was soaring. Don’t ask me why. 

“Is that your spin on ‘magicians never reveal their secrets’?” His eyes sparkle even in this horrible lighting. How is that even possible?

“Maybe,” I shrug. He’s right though. I guess that was my twisted take on that saying. I just thought it would work in this situation if I tweaked it to fit. 

The beautiful stranger moves to the chair right next to mine. “I’m Chris.” He holds his rather large hand out towards me.

I place my hand in his. His fingers curl around my hand, dwarfing it. “Amara.” Amara Remington. Elizabeth calls me Remi and she’s the only one allowed to. I call her Lizzie and I’m the only one allowed to as well. It’s a great friendship we have going here.

“Well Amara, what’s a beautiful girl like you doing at a bar on a Wednesday night?” He takes another sip from his drink. Every move he makes is so fluid and natural… Is this guy even real?

“It’s the slowest night of the week. I like to come here for the food and to listen to the music.” If I was going to get anywhere with this guy, friend drama is not something to bring up right away. I most definitely want to see if this will go anywhere. Even if it’s just for a night.

“I could tell by the way you inhaled that burger. It must have been good.” He chuckles while I most certainly did not. Thank God for the poor lighting in here, I must have turned either beat red from embarrassment or stark white from mortification. That burger was so messy. I was licking my fingers right and left and wiping my face after every single bite. I must have looked like a pig! And he still called me beautiful?

“I can’t believe you saw that and are still wanting to talk to me.” I want the floor to turn into a black hole and swallow me up. How did I not see him before? I for sure would have noticed him when I sat down. I must have been so engrossed in my food that I was oblivious to my surroundings. Damn that delicious burger.

“It was endearing, actually,” He admits.

Is he nuts? Or just blind? “How could that have possibly been ‘endearing’?”

“I like a girl who isn’t afraid to make a mess while eating and who doesn’t care about counting calories and all that weird stuff that people do nowadays.” He shrugs like it was no big deal. “So, I was wondering if you weren’t too full from dinner, maybe we could go get some dessert? I saw this little bakery down the street that I’d like to try out.”

Was he asking me out? If so, jeez he’s forward. But hey, I’m not complaining. I know exactly which bakery he’s talking about and it’s phenomenal. That’s where Liz and I go for our comfort food during our time of the month. It’s remarkable. I could go for one of their fluffy cupcakes. I happily agreed, left some cash on the bar, and we walked out.

When we were walking down the sidewalk, my previous assumption about him was true. He’s taller than me. I have to look up at him in order to talk to him, making him at least 6’0”. I found out he’s from Boston. He just moved here to start a new job. He has two sisters and one brother. His favorite sport is football, he’s a diehard Patriots fan. He loves Disney as much as an adult as he did as a child. He was passionate about space and politics, going off on an elongated tangent on our current Commander-in-Chief. He even had to interrupt himself when he went on his rant. I didn’t mind watching him. One of my favorite things is watching someone talk about something they’re passionate about.

We finally made it to the bakery and each got a treat for each other that we wanted the other person to try. I had him get a triple chocolate brownie to be safe, and he had me get a piece of key lime pie since I had never had it before. We stroll down the block to the small park that was completely empty. We eat our desserts and just talk about random things. He'd ask me questions and vice versa. He’s so easy to talk to. I feel like I had known him for years instead of an hour.

After we're done eating, we decide to hit the swings. We have a contest to see who could get the highest the fastest. I welcome the challenge even if I knew I was going to lose. My shorter legs are at my disadvantage here. Establishing that he was the winner, he decides to be reckless and jump off when he got to the highest he could. He almost made the perfect landing, but he stumbled a little and wound up falling to the ground. I laugh so hard, I have to clutch my stomach at his silliness while I tried to slow myself down.

When I’m low enough to where I could get off safely, he’s walking towards me, looking determined. He doesn’t stop, even when I almost hit him. He calmly grabs the cold chains and keeps going until I’m well off the ground and our faces are impossibly close. It's the first time since I met him that I felt nervous. I tighten my grip on the chains and lock my ankles together underneath the seat. His eyes flicker to my lips for a split second before speaking.

He grunts, “One last question.” All I could do was nod, so he continues, “Do you believe in coincidences?”

I take a second to think about the concept of “coincidences.” I do believe everything happens for a reason. There was a reason why I decided to come out tonight instead of any other night. There was a reason why I came to this bar at the time I did and had the food I did because that caught his attention. And there’s a reason why I had the ideas I absolutely had to write down, which got him to talk to me. Same thing goes for him. Every decision we’ve made up until now has brought us here in this park, on this swing, in this position. So, do I think that it’s a coincidence that we were brought together tonight?

“Yes.”

In a second, his lips lock with mine. I respond quickly, hands pulling his face even closer as my legs wrap around his waist as his hands support my backside. As we deepen the kiss, he lays us down onto the rocks with me straddling him. Our lips move in sync as we both deepen the kiss. His lips are everything I thought they would be: soft and plump. His kisses are gentle, but full of passion. I feel how passionate he was all the way down to my toes. One thing I liked was he never pushed his tongue in my mouth. I hate when people automatically thrust their tongue in someone else’s mouth as soon as their lips make contact.

His hands wander up my back and tangle into my hair. Mine wander down to his pecks and around his shoulders, which are incredibly firm. I’ve never been so close with a guy this fast. But, despite everything inside telling me not to, it feels… right. Every fiber of my being tells me this is right, that I was supposed to be here in this moment with him, that I was meant to be with him…Which is why I need to stop this now.

I try to pull away, but every time I do, he would just bring his lips back to mine making me not want to leave. I knew I had to though before this went any further. I gently push on his chest so I can sit up, separating our lips. “Oh God, I need to leave now.” I get off of him and start to walk away.

“Where ya goin’?” He calls after me, sitting up on his elbows now.

“Home before we both do something we regret. I had a great time tonight. Hope your new job goes well!” I jog down the road, back to the bar to obtain my car. 

I make my way home resisting the urge to let the butterflies in my stomach influence the smile that wants to form on my face. Lizzie is not going to believe the story I’m about to tell her… I’m not even sure I believe it. Did that really happen or did I imagine it? When I park my car in the underground ramp, I take out my notebook to see if I had written it, thinking it happened. But nothing I wrote tonight reflected the events that happened in real life. But how could one human being be so perfect? He was the easiest person to talk to, made me feel so at ease with him, and incredibly handsome. And the way he made me feel? It was indescribable. Butterflies in my stomach when he looked at me, palms sweating when he was close to me, the sparks I felt when he touched me… Chris. Such a simple name for the perfect guy.

I climb up the stairs back to the apartment. I close the door and lean against it, still in a trance. Now that I'm in the privacy of my own home, the cheek-hurting smile that was begging to come out makes its appearance.

“You’re back earlier than I expected.” Elizabeth was talking while she was in the kitchen, but when she comes into the living room, she gasps. “You totally met a guy!!” She shrieks after seeing my face. “Tell me everything! And I mean every detail. Don’t leave anything out!” She drags me to the couch, forcing me to sit down.

So, I do tell her everything. From the second I got to the bar, to coming home; from every thought I’ve had to everything I’ve felt. She squeals through the entire story, expressing her excitement for me. She then asks me when I was going to see him again. 

Every thought I’ve had within the past couple hours is gone. I never got his number, where his new job is, or even his last name. There’s no way I can get into contact with him. I sigh falling over onto my best friend’s lap. “Never,” I groan.

“What do you mean?”

“I have no way to contact him or know where to find him. I never got his phone number or his last name.” I groan again wanting to crawl into a ball and mourn the loss of the love I will never have with this guy.

“There’s more ice cream in the freezer.”

“I’ll get a spoon.”

For the last week of freedom we had, we wallow in pity on the couch. The thoughts of Chris are always on my mind. His smile, his laugh, his kisses… Ugh why didn’t I at least get his number? I wonder if he feels the same way about it or if he’s completely forgotten all about me by now. That thought depressed me even more.

We watch every rom-com we can find and consume copious amounts of ice cream in this last week. So, when the first day of school comes, we reluctantly peel our butts off the couch to rejoin civilization. We shower and get ready in our rooms. I straighten my hair before putting half of it up into a bun, and do my make-up with eyeliner and mascara, and fill in my eyebrows. I brush my teeth and wait for Liz to be done so we can leave. Our classes start at the same time so we decided beforehand to ride together.

Once we got to campus, we agree to meet up for lunch at one after our first couple classes. I head to my first class, English 5116: Advanced Writing of Fiction. It’s one of my final classes for my major in English with a concentration on Creative Writing before I start my internship next semester. I heard from past students that it’s a hard class, but that was with the old professor. Said professor retired last year, so they had to hire a new one. There wasn’t any news of who the new professor is or his or her teaching style, so this should be interesting.

I find the lecture room with plenty of time to spare. This lecture room is like any other. It’s smaller than normal ones on campus; there are only five rows of ten seats to each row, all curved so it formed a semi-circle around the room. There’s a wooden podium off to the right side of the front and a huge projector screen just waiting for something to appear on the screen. I descend the stairs, and choose a seat close to the front. I found out during my freshman year that I learn better when I’m in the first couple rows. I take out the designated notebook for the class, write the date on the top line, and wait.

There’s still ten minutes ‘til the class starts so I also take out my story and see if I could continue where I left off. More and more people pile in as it gets closer to start time. There isn’t any sign of the professor yet. I hope that he or she is late. I think I have where I want my characters to go next and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.

But then everyone hears the bang of the door closing, startling everyone. “Alright, everyone. Welcome to Advanced Writing of Fiction. I am Mr. Evans, the professor for this course. You may call me Mr. E. or Evans. I will answer to either.” He trots down the stairs, handing stacks of papers to the first person in each row until he gets to the front of the room. My heart does that leaping thing just listening to him speak. What the hell is wrong with me? I look up to see why that happened. A gasp escapes and I think my heart stops completely. 

Chris? The guy I met in the bar was standing at the front of my classroom. The guy I had an amazing make out session with is my professor. Oh boy…

He keeps talking about something I couldn’t tell you about because my mind went into shock. He looked so different in a tight, white button-up with a black tie, black slacks and shiny black dress shoes. His hair is done the exact same way it was in the bar. His facial hair looked shorter than it was before. But it was his eyes that looked the most different. In the bar, they looked vibrant and full of life. Now, they look flat and uninviting. I wanted to know why.

“I will not have a formal sign-in sheet,” an overwhelming relief falls over the entire room. “But, there will be a daily written submission due at the end of class every day.” Just like that, said relief was gone. I didn’t mind really. I love making short stories. “The submissions can be from something you’re currently working on, or something you make up on the fly. It doesn’t matter to me. But please, a five-page maximum. I do have a life outside this class.” Chuckles peppered the room. 

“I am a little bit old fashioned, so you will have to physically turn it in to me. I will be copying them and handing them back to you at the beginning of each class. I will be keeping a profile of said copied excerpts until the end of the semester. I will meet with each of you three times this semester. First meeting will be to get to know you and your writing style. Second will be at mid-terms to check-up and see how your works have improved throughout the first half and see what there is left to improve on. And the last meeting will be a final assessment of how you have advanced in the writing of fiction.” His pun is cleverly placed and very funny. I wonder how many times he practiced that one at home.

“Now, there will be no formal tests.” Again, relief washed over the room. “The excerpts that you write are your tests to see if you are grasping the concept of what I am teaching you. If you need extra help, my office hours are on the syllabus. Feel free to make an appointment during those hours and I will happily help you with whatever you need.”

“He can help me with something else.” I hear a girl whisper suggestively in the row behind me. I roll my eyes. Does she really think he’s going to be anything more than her professor?

“Since today is the first day of class, how about we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Say your name, major, and what kinds of things you like to write about.” He pulls a chair out from behind the podium, placing it in the middle of the front, sitting on it backwards. He starts in the back row so I was safe until the end since I'm the first person in the front row. Everyone’s answers to what major they were and what kinds of things they liked to write about were all different. From aspiring authors to journalists and poems to novels; so many different combinations.

As it got closer to me, the more nervous I got. Would he recognize me? How will be react to seeing me again and realizing he made out with one of his students? Will he freak? No, probably not. He most likely wouldn’t want anyone to know what occurred between us. Would he request that I transfer out of this class because it’d be too weird? I don’t know what I would do if he did. I need this class to graduate this spring. I might have to beg and plead for him to let me stay if that’s the case.

When it got to me, I try not to look at him for fear of seeing his real reaction. But I had to know what it was. When our eyes lock, nothing happens. His expression never falters. No sign of recognition, fear, shock- nothing. That should be a good thing, right? I can stay in this class and not be weird… But then why does my heart hurt?

“I’m Amara. I’m an English major with a concentration on Creative Writing. And I mostly write novels.”

“What kind of novels?” He pries for more.

“Romance, mostly. Some fantasy. Just depends on my mood,” I shrug, “but they’re definitely all fiction.”

“Well I look forward to reading every one of your submissions.” He concludes, turning back to the rest of the class. “Now, with the rest of the time we have, which is about an hour, I want you to write whatever you want to write about. Your first day, the greatest party you’ve ever been to, the love of your life, anything you want. Just keep it clean, please. This will give me an idea of what I’m dealing with this semester.” He stands up from the chair. “When you’re done, you can leave.” He goes back behind the podium and just stands watch.

I look down at my notebook and nothing. Nothing came out. Zero ideas. Nada. Zilch. El zippo. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I guess I could jot down something from the story I have with me… But that’s personal. I don’t know if I want him to read something so personal to me. Not yet anyway.

I glance back up at him, only to find him staring back at me. I observe the classroom to see everyone writing furiously in their own notebooks.  When I bring my eyes back to him, he's holding up a piece of paper. It reads: “Class after this?” I shake my head. He sets the paper back down, scribbling something else down. “Be the last one out” was the next thing he said.

Oh gosh, he does recognize me. And he wants me to stay after. My heart started racing just thinking of what he might want to say to me… I nod once before focusing back to my still blank paper. What could I possibly write about that will get my mind off what’s going to happen after class? I could write about how I felt when my childhood cat died. That’s still personal, but less personal than my novels. It was decided then.

An hour and three and a half pages later, I break out of my trance to see I was the last person still working. Chris is still behind the podium, watching me with what looked like amazement. “You okay?” He asks, breaking the silence. It was in that moment that I realized I had tears running down my face. I immediately run my hands over my face, trying to erase all the wetness on my cheeks and chin. It’s been four years since my cat died and I still get emotional about it when I talk or think about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a sore subject.” I jot down my name at the top before tearing out the pages.

“You had a pretty intense look for the entire time you were writing again.” He smirks at me again. I pack up my stuff then bring my submission over to him. He continues, “You always have that look when you’re writing. I’ve never seen someone so engrossed in their work before.”

“You’ll see why when you read it.” I hand it to him reluctantly.

“You know, I knew it was you the second I saw you.” He blurts after a silent moment. “I was wondering if I was ever going to see you again, and now here you are.”

“Your student.”

“My... student.” He repeats slowly.

“What are we gonna do? I can drop out of your class, if it’d be too weird.”

“Why would it be weird? We’re both adults. We can be rational about it. It was before I knew you were my student. No harm, no foul.” He shrugs, brushing it off as if it were no big deal at all.

“So, we’re okay?” I ask confused by how calm and nonchalant he was about everything. Maybe he didn’t care about me, like I cared about him…

“Absolutely. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He grabs the rest of the papers and started up the stairs. I follow when he disappeared from the room.

He can forget everything just like that? He has been on my mind every second of the day since that night. How could I feel so much for him and him feel nothing? He was like a completely different person from when I saw him last. The Chris I met was passionate, careless, and full of life whereas this one was cold and stoic. I guess being in his class will be easier than I originally thought…

I shake it off and went to find Lizzie. She is going to die when I tell her everything.

Chapter Two- Fortune

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