#i was looking at a guy w shaggy hair glasses dark under eyes and looking very angry and remembered the TA guy was like that

[fxggotclown]

just remembered plot points and characters from cheese in the trap and got so excited . the way both of the guys in the gay couple connect to the story and how everything is pieced together is so awesome . i need to reread it again wahhhh

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Oh okay well Danny tells Ryan that they’re “going to talk in the morning” at the end of the Was it good? peice and I would like to see that. Maybe Danny telling Ryan some of the things that happened to Nate and making him super uncomfortable? Idk I like Danny protecting Nate it’s interesting

CW: Referenced past torture and pet whump, referenced alcohol use, brief reference to dissoci@tion

Follows on Was It Good?, takes place the next morning

Ryan wakes up with maybe the third serious hangover he's ever had to find a glass of water and a couple Tylenol on the side table next to the bed.

His hip hurts, a strange tight ache over his old tattoo, and he feels like his mouth is full of cotton and his head has been used as a bowling ball. Fuck. He never gets hangovers - it's the family blood, Dad says, with a hint of his brogue and a slight smile. Just how the Michaelsons are.

Their liquor doesn't touch us the same, Patrick had said when Ryan asked, tipping a glass to him, eyebrow raised. That's why I import the liquor my own people once made.

It had made perfect sense at the time. Now, though... what people? The Michaelsons have all left Ireland. They're all here now.

In any case, it'd been his dad's shit he'd been drinking last night, and too much of it. The world's faint queasy spin tells him that, even if last night is still a mess of nonsense impressions slowly coalescing back together.

He takes the pills and drinks the water after, ignores the uneasy twist of his stomach, and pulls on a t-shirt, soft as second skin, and wanders out in that and his boxers.

Danny is up before dawn, every day, and today is no exception. His brother is sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, staring out the window over the kitchen sink at the fading depth of night, finally giving way to pinkish sunrise.

When Ryan enters, those wide blue eyes move immediately to him. They are not soft, or sad, or lost - they are precisely focused, and the skin under the red of his scars is pale, nearly colorless under a smattering of freckles. Both of them pretend Danny's whole body doesn't still twitch with a need to slip to his knees on the floor as soon as someone enters. "You took, um, the pills?"

His voice is soft. And still Ryan feels unsettled, something between uncertainty and guilt. "I did, yeah." He moves to pour himself a cup of coffee, the peppermint mocha creamer he'd bought changing dark brown to silky tan. Not that you need much, with Danny's coffee.

Ryan could half believe in magic, really, just from seeing how Danny didn't seem to do anything different but his coffee is still always the best.

Danny's eyes are still on his back. He can feel the weight of them, settled there. His brother, who flinches and murmurs to himself and looks at anything but whoever is talking to him... staring. Directly.

He turns slowly around, and as he does the memory of his brother's voice slips in from the night before. Strong, and even. Angry. I want to talk about this in the morning. A Danny he'd thought had died up in Canada, resurrected, reborn to defend...

Ryan's stomach drops as the whole night, fuzzy but mostly there, slots into place. "Oh, fuck," He whispers.

Fingers around Nate Vandrum's neck, closing tightly, Nate's green eyes wide and lost in terror, calling him... what?

Pl-please, Ashley, please-

Danny snorts, glancing away from him and then back again. His hands are closed around his coffee mug so hard his knuckles are white under the scars there, too. "Not too, um, blackout drunk, then," Danny says. There's a wry sarcasm there, something so familiar and so lost to Ryan that it hurts to hear now.

This is how his brother sounds, a little irritated, cynical. Not weak and soft and pliable, bending to suit whatever he thinks he has to be to stay safe. This is the brother Ryan has lost, not quite resurrected maybe, but maybe opening his eyes beside the open grave.

He's somewhere between, Ryan thinks, between the angry, dancing boy who disappeared and the broken, frightened man Ryan brought back home. He's holding himself together like this, so carefully, fighting so hard not to slip away.

Ryan sits slowly down at the other end of the table and tells himself to have the courage to meet his brother's eyes.

He manages - barely.

"No, I... I remember."

"Good." Danny slowly lifts the mug to his lips, sips, sets it down again. Like he's acting out a routine of normal, each move robotic and tightly controlled. "You can't... be cruel to him, Ryan. Like that."

"No, I know. I lost my temper a little, that's all. It's... it's not that big a deal, Dan." Ryan rubs at the back of his neck and tries on a shamefaced smile. It falters when Danny's expression hardens, like lava solidifying to rock, harmless on the surface but still hot enough to burn.

"You could have hurt him, Ryan," Danny says softly. His voice is so low, and so strong - both at once. "You, um. You did hurt him."

Ryan nods, again. He feels like a kid sitting in front of his mother after getting caught skipping curfew. He feels like Danny skipping curfew, the disappointed annoyance from their parents. Ignoring that it had almost always been Ryan's idea to sneak out.

"I... I get that. I didn't-" Ryan takes a breath and groans, leaning on his elbows, rubbing hands over his face. "Fuck. I hear all the shit that bastard did to you, and I think, Vandrum was right fucking there, Danny! Right there! And he... did nothing."

Danny sets the mug down and it clatters with the trembling of his fingers, nearly splashing out entirely. Ryan looks up and catches the sight of a bead of red on Danny's lower lip, chapped skin torn. Redder than his scars, more immediate.

"He didn't do, um, nothing," Danny whispers, barely audible. His strength is fading, pulling back inside him. Ryan's brother will just... fuck off somewhere and the stupid goddamn puppy will be there instead.

Dr. Rosa has a whole thing about this, about trauma and Danny protecting himself, something about identity and like a lot of really uncomfortable questions about their childhood Ryan has no idea how to answer...

"What did he do, then? Huh?" Ryan finds his finger jabbing in the air, watches as if from outside himself as Danny flinches back. "Tell me. What did he fucking do?"

"He, um." Danny shifts, drops his hands into his lap. His hair, shaggy and unkempt, is a riot of red waves and curls around his face. "Watched. Or... helped. He-"

"Danny, please. I'm angry enough, don't make me even more pissed at this guy-"

"He, he didn't want to, Ryan." Danny looks at him again, and Ryan watches tears glitter in his blue eyes, one run out and get caught in the crevices dug in by scars, follow its map over cheekbone and down to jaw. "He hated it. But he-... but I-..." Danny breathes, that awful fucking thing he does now to calm himself.

Breathe on, hold for a few counts, breathe out. Again and again. Ryan knows what he’s doing, inside his head, and it makes him sick.

My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner, and then those stupid rules - and there’s like fifty of them - over and over again until his breathing calms, until his hands settle.

Until he’s good.

The bastard, the fucking demon piece of shit that laughs at Ryan on the stand... Abraham Denner taught Danny to do that. And now, free of him, the Denner bastard about to waste away in prison for life... He still does it.

He still needs it.

Ryan's eyes drop to the scars around Danny's neck, a collar he can't take off, and he swallows. His stomach turns. He pushes the coffee mug away, the smell and taste of peppermint are making him sick now. Too cloying, too sweet, too much in the face of his broken brother's pain.

"I'm alive because of... of him," Danny says finally. "D'you see?"

"Yeah, cause four years later he found a fucking conscience-"

"No. No!" Danny's hands slap down on the table, rattling the ceramic mugs, and his breath is faster, airier. Whistling, almost. "I, I... No. Because he, he, um... He suffered, for me. With me. For four years."

"You suffered," Ryan says, voice flat. "He watched."

Danny looks at him, and there is a darkness there, a shadow around eyes and mouth, that Ryan can't always see. But he sees it now. "He, um. Was made to watch. That... That's suffering, too.”

“Bullshit.”

Danny’s jaw sets. “Don't touch him again, Ryan."

"Don't plan on it."

"Please." Danny's voice drops, almost to a whimper. "Please, Ryan. He's-... He's the only real thing."

"What?" Ryan blinks, but Danny is already pushing himself up, moving away staring out the window at the sunrise as he dumps his coffee into the sink and rinses out the mug. Automatic, thoughtless cleanliness.

Danny doesn't look back at him. He's so tall, towering over everyone, and he is still so... very small, in his fear.

"Abraham could take everything," Danny says, lips barely moving, his eyes locked on the sky slowly turning blue with the morning light. "Everything from me. He did, he, um, he could... do it again. But he never took Nate."

He turns to look at Ryan, and there's a brief flash of Danny again, really Danny, his big brother's flash and fire, before it fades under the weight of what has been done to him.

"You could take Nate away from me," Danny says, voice low. Almost weak. "Please... Please don't, Ryan. Don't touch him again. Don't b-be Abraham, in this house. Don't... Don't. I need... I need, um, this time. With Nate, while I have it. Before he... Before it's over. Before he comes back for me."

He leaves the kitchen with Ryan still staring, guilt an inferno that will burn him alive at the pleading uncertainty in Danny's face, his voice. The door to Danny's bedroom opens and shuts, almost silently.

Ryan is left alone to say, to no one, "But... He can't come back for you. He"s going to prison."

Danny acts like Abraham Denner could just fucking walk out of it.

---

@whump-it, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp, @astrobly@whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @swordkallya, @moose-teeth, @untilthepainstarts, @whumpiary,  @lave-whump @raigash @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-tr0pes, @wildfaewhump 

[jenniferxprentiss]

I Knew You’d Linger Like A Tattoo Kiss -> 2/6

Alex Blake x Jennifer Jareau

The second time JJ kisses Alex in front of the team, they’re in a hotel lobby winding down after a long case. Their relationship is fairly new, and while they shared a hotel room together on most cases, the team often forgot about their budding romance — they tried to keep it as professional as they could. JJ looks up from her phone and notices Alex — the way her glasses are slipping down her nose and her hair is falling out of her messy bun — before leaning across the table, finger hooking under Alex’s chin and pressing their lips together.

hi hi! coming @ u guys w another JJ x Blake kiss, and working on some other super fun things for you all this weekend!! hope u enjoy and review if you want!! xo

@whiskey-fluent @babyblockcolorcat @anepiphany @j3mily @jjsgirlfriend @ssaemilyprentits @garcias-batcave @abbyprentiss @ellegreenawy @whoever else wants a tag in the future @/a loving no tag for lauren xo

—————

The case had wrapped up earlier than expected, the unsub behind bars and paperwork finished before dinner time — a welcome change, especially given the downtime they would have before they flew home in the morning. Instead of sitting in their hotel rooms, the team was spread across the lobby engrossed in various activities waiting for their pizza to arrive.

JJ was sitting in an armchair across from Alex, a small table between them filled with cups of coffee that had long since gone cold and a bag of gummy bears — a guilty pleasure treat she and Alex both loved. The lobby was buzzing with murmurs of conversation, but nothing she could really decipher.

Reid and Morgan were playing a card game that was too confusing for the rest of the team — too many rules they didn’t feel like expending the energy to learn —but JJ enjoyed watching the way Spencer’s eyes lit up behind his shaggy hair for just a second every time Morgan deliberately played a card that would give Reid an advantage. She could hear the faint murmur of Rossi’s voice, glanced over as he was gesturing something to Hotch, miming a bowl and mixing. Shaking her head, she let out a breathy laugh, knew it had something to do with cooking — Rossi’s only passion other than cigars and his job.

She looked down at her phone again, a small smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards when she received a text from Penelope with an innuendo about her and Blake and sharing a room — thank the tech goddess for the hotel mysteriously having a king sized bed available for them instead of two doubles. JJ laughed softly before looking across the table at Alex, breath catching in her throat.

The sight of Alex out of her typical work clothes — slacks, a blouse, and blazer that was often accented with her Kevlar vest — was enough to steal the air from JJ’s lungs. She was stunning in a way that JJ had never noticed before, relaxed and unguarded. She smiled a little wider, breathed a bit deeper, laughed a touch louder, and JJ felt so lucky to get to see this side of her — glasses on, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and leggings paired with a pair of ugg boots that JJ would have never imagined the other woman owning.

Her hair was gathered haphazardly in a messy bun, strands already having slipped free from the hair tie they were constrained in and framing her face. Every few seconds she blew a sharp puff of air through her pursed lips, blowing the lock of hair out of her vision before it promptly fell into her line of sight again.

JJ laughed softly, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest as she watched Alex exhale again, eyes crossing in her glasses as she stared at the stubborn lock of hair. She stood, leaning over the table carefully before brushing the hair out of Alex’s face, fingers gentle as she tucked the strand back up into the bun atop her head before sitting back down, a soft, shy smile playing on her lips.

The room fell silent aside from the low chatter from the television and ruffling sound coming from the table opposite them as Morgan idly shuffled the deck of cards in his hand. The rest of the team was staring at them, Spencer’s mouth agape as his eyes darted between JJ and Alex.

“What?” There was a soft blush coloring JJ’s cheeks, and she knew without looking that Alex’s face was a bright red color.

“That — you — what’s going on?” He was sputtering his words out, eyes wide and filled with a confused glint. “You never let anyone touch you!”

Everyone knew that statement was directed at Alex, having always been one to shy away from physical contact from anyone who wasn’t JJ. Their love language was acts of service and physical touch, but no one on the team would know it if they didn’t watch them carefully — watched the way JJ’s fingertips grazed Alex’s elbow before they stormed a house, or saw how Alex would protectively guide JJ behind her in a dangerous situation.

Alex cleared her throat, looking up over the thick dark frames of her glasses before smiling gently in JJ’s direction. Her knees were tucked up into her sweatshirt and JJ felt her heart flutter at the sight, at the way the book was nearly dwarfed in all of the extra material gathered in her lap.

“I don’t mind being touched when it’s Jennifer.”

The simple affirmation made JJ blush once more, eyes downcast and pretending to be engrossed in her phone again as she tried to avoid any other questions. It occurred to her that other than Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope, the rest of the team had no clue they were even together, let alone carrying on a relationship behind closed doors. She didn’t want to push Alex into something she didn’t want to do — not when she wasn’t ready — and there was no need for it to affect their work life anyways.

Alex’s answer seemed to appease Spencer, who shrugged his shoulders and turned back to Morgan and their card game. After a few moments, the room returned to its normal rumble of conversation, Hotch laughing loudly as Rossi dramatically re-enacted how one of his dishes burnt traumatically in the oven moments before a dinner party — it was one that JJ could recognize and found herself laughing at, even though she could only make out every few words of the story.

She looked back at Alex, already back to being engrossed in her novel, eyes darting across the pages as she was sucked into the fictional world of Jane Eyre. She had told JJ one night — cuddled together under a hotel blanket staring into the darkness, unable to sleep because of the horrors they had seen that day — that it was one of her favorite novels, always able to drift away to the world of Edward Fairfax Rochester.

Her ugg boots were kicked off, feet adorning mismatched polka dotted socks that made JJ’s heart flutter. Alex’s toes wiggled as she read, mouth silently moving, breathing out each word as her eyes flicked across the page. It was endearing to JJ, watching the way she read and absorbed herself in the fictional world — periodically glancing up at JJ with a slightly dazed gleam in her eyes that she could only attribute to being so engrossed in her novel.

After a moment, she looked across the table at JJ, lips twitching up in a soft smile. It was almost shy, having felt JJ’s gaze directed towards her, felt like it was burning a hole in the top of her head.

“Whatever are you looking at, Jennifer?”

“You.”

JJ’s lips were curved up in a goofy smile, tongue peeking out between her lips. She studied Alex’s form a little longer — a little more carefully — took in the way her hands were dwarfed by the sheer size of her sleeves, the way her knees tucked up into her sweatshirt and mismatched socked toes wiggling.

She stood, leaned across the table until her nose was brushing Alex’s, hooked her finger under the older woman’s chin and gently nudged her upwards until their eyes locked. JJ pressed her lips against Alex’s, humming gently against her lips and let her hand move to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing against her skin as she felt Alex grin against her lips.

After a moment, JJ pulled back and settled in her seat again, fully aware that the rest of the team was staring at them. In that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care, only focused on the way Alex’s lips curved up in a goofy smile, eyes gleaming with a playful glint.

“What was that for?”

“Just because. You can go back to reading your book now.”

[sunflowersunshinevol6]

Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: drinking

Summary: Mixtapes. We all love them. We have a different one for a different mood. A different moment in time. For Harry and Summer, they become the soundtrack of one beautiful summer in California and the definition of their relationship. Because the people you love never really leave, they're only a mixtape away.

Part One

Let me start at the beginning. I never would have met him if it wasn't for my roommate Halley.

We lived in Monte Nido, about three miles from Malibu. I had just graduated from Berkley and was looking to become a freelance photographer. Halley did the temp thing, it paid the bills and we could still have fun.

I woke up to 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' blasting from the boombox in the living room. Halley had just broken up with her boyfriend and I knew she was hurting, but I despised the song. It was overplayed in my opinion.

"Hey," she whined when I walked out of my room and over to the boombox, shutting the music off. She was in the kitchen, baggy misfits shirt hanging off her slim frame, black hair tousled and looking like she hadn't brushed it in weeks. I rolled my eyes, walking over to her and catching the plate she slid across to me. A bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee. The perfect morning.

"I'm tired of you moping babe. We gotta get you out of the house." She grumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Maybe I should call him," she started towards the phone hung on the wall. I ran, beating her to it and slamming my hand over it. "Summer!" She said slightly annoyed.

"No. Not doing that." I grabbed her hands, tugging her back towards the kitchen. "Know what we need?"

"What?"

"A night out." I said, bumping foreheads with her. "When's the last time we went to a show together?" She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "Exactly. There's a new band supposed to be playing downtown at The Dome tonight. We should check it out." Halley chewed on her bottom lip for a second before nodding, giving in.

"I could use a girls night." I grinned, high fiving her.

I've always communicated best through music. There's something about a song that can just get what I'm feeling across in a way that words can't. My mom used to say I was born with music in my soul. We used to dance around the kitchen, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors on vinyl, blasting as we croaned, singing of heartbreak and hope. It was deep. It always has been.

Halley went to work, another gig at a vet's office and I grabbed my roller blades and headed outside, Walkman in my pocket, Dinosaur Jr's 'You're living all over me' blasting in my ears. I took off towards town, heading to the record store.

Big and Easy Cassettes and Vinyls had been around since the late seventies. It was my place, and my mom's. Even when she got sick I would drive her over and we would pick an album, just one new one to listen to on the way home. We'd come across a song that was too good plenty of times and would go around the block to finish it. The place was my home away from home.

The Psychadelic Furs 'Pretty in Pink' played over the speakers when I walked in. A couple people lounged around.

"Hey! Summer! What's happenin'?" Willy, the owner, waved at me from behind the register. He'd been a hippie back in the day, even lived at the Haight. He wore small circle rimmed glasses that were tinted and his afro was always a mess. He grinned at me as I made my way over to him.

"Hey man! Got anything new?" He nodded, pulling a box out from under the counter, the label on ot reading 'New Shit'. I opened it eagerly, looking through the tapes.

"How's Halley doing?" He asked.

"She could be better. We're going to a show tonight at The Dome." Willy nodded.

"Yeah? My buddy Mitch plays in the band. His girlfriend Sarah is drums."

"Really?"

"Yup. Could make a call. Get you guys backstage." I couldn't contain my grin.

"Thanks man." I grabbed a couple tapes, holding them out for him to charge me. He shook his head.

"On the house. This time."

"Thanks Willy."

"No problem. Tell Halley I said to have a good time. I'll call my buddy, let him know you're coming through."

Halley and I have always had a preshow ritual, but since she was working when I got home I started without her.

I put on my new cassette, The Cure 'Disentigration' and hummed along as I started making drinks. I was halfway through my third margarita when she came in the door.

"Hey!" She shouted. I laughed when she began dancing towards me and I handed her her drink.

"Willy knows someone in the band. He's gonna get us backstage."

"Are you kidding? That's fucking great!" Halley screeched jumping up and down. We danced around the living room drinking and singing the wrong lyrics. It's always good to hype up before you go out. Remember that.

We started getting ready around eight thirty, both of us slightly buzzed. I grabbed my favorite t shirt. An oversized Clockwork Orange shirt that was black and had the logo on the front in orange, a red plaid long sleeve and torn up Jean's with my mom's old converse. I'm not one for makeup much but I put brown eyeshadow on to make eyes look a bit sunk in, mascara and dark red lipstick. I let my black hair fall down over my shoulders and put on my favorite sunnies.

Halley was a bit more punk than I was. She wore a black mini skirt, ripped see through black mesh shirt with a black tank top over it. Her favorite dog collar around her neck and heavy eyeliner and lipstick, her favorite Doc Martens laced up her ankles, ripped stocking covering her legs.

"You look hot." I acknowledged, winking at her teasingly.

"Tell me something I don't know." She laughed.

"Show starts at ten. You wanna walk?"

"I'm up for that."

The Dome was the local bar. It was only about a mile away and we hoped the walk would sober us up as we went. We talked and laughed, excited at the prospect of hearing new music. Music had been the thing that brought us together in the first place. Our mutual love for Depeche Mode and Peter Murphy. It always seemed to me that music was the only thing that brought people into my life and kept them there.

We got there early enough to see people coming into the bar. We weren't sure if they were there for the band or for drinks. We didn't really care. We were young and looking for fun.

"I hope they're hot." Halley said as we took our seats at the bar. I laughed, rolling my eyes at her.

"The one named Mitch is taken. He's dating the drummer so you better hope you don't fall for him." She snickered at me.

"Hi ladies, what can I get you?"

"Two Jack in Coke on ice?" She looked at me and I nodded my approval. The bartender nodded, heading back to make our drinks. That's when I saw Willy's unmistakable afro making his way through the crowd and towards us.

"Hey ladies! Lovely to see ya." He kissed Halley on the cheek and then me before leaning against the bar beside us.

"Heard you can get us backstage tonight." Halley said, wiggling her eyebrows. Willy nodded.

"Sure can. Already told Mitch I was coming. Just gonna bring you girls back with me." I opened my mouth to say something else but the feedback from the stage caught my attention just as the bartender came up with my drink. I took a sip, watching as the lights dimmed and everyone's attention turned to the stage.

The band filed out. Three girls and three boys heading towards the stage. The guitarist had shaggy black hair and a full beard, dressed in bell bottoms and a baggy white tee. But it was the singer who caught my eye.

He wore beige slacks and a black button down tucked in, the first few buttons unbuttoned, a couple of tattoos poking out on his chest. His brown hair curled slightly but was slicked back and the rings on his hands glinted as he grabbed the mic stand. He was outrageously handsome.

"Oh my." Halley whispered. Oh my was right.

"Ello." My heart dropped into my stomach when he spoke, a thick english accent greeting my ears. "My mama's Harry. This is Mitch, Sarah, Ny Oh, Adam and Charlotte. We don't have a band name yet, maybe one day. But we hope you enjoy." Everyone laughed at his comment. "This song is called 'Ever Since New York.'"

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply as the song began. It was beautiful. My mom would have liked it.

"Tell me somethin'" his voice was sweet, carried along the melody that the band played. I opened my eyes, watching as he swayed to the beat of the music. Everyone was quiet, enraptured by this young man's voice.

"Wow." I heard Halley say behind me, I couldn't have agreed more. It wasn't dancey, not in the way that you could get up and shake your ass. No, it was the kind of song you listened to at home in the evening, with your lover perched on the counter while you stand between their legs, dinner cooking on the stove. It was comforting. It was....home.

When the song came to a close I was breathless, a weight placed on my chest, I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

A few songs in and he began a heavier song, one that we could dance to. He called it 'Kiwi'. Halley and I got up, dancing with Willy and laughing as he screamed into the microphone. I felt free, laughing with my friends and feeling like we were the only ones in the world.

I looked up at the stage after I flipped my hair to see him, Harry, eyes locked in on me. I held his gaze for a moment, blushing when he smiled at me before breaking eye contact. I smiled, turning back to my friends and feeling the music once more.

"Thank you all for a lovely evening." He said when the show was over. Willy gently took me and Halley by the arm.

"We can head back now guys."

The backstage area was small. Not a whole lot of room, but enough for the small indie bands that usually played. Halley and I stood to the side as Willy walked up to Mitch, shaking hands with him.

"These are my friends. This is Summer and Halley." We smiled, shaking Mitch's hand. He introduced us to the rest of the band but the singer, Harry, wasn't there.

"He's in the loo." Sarah said, a kind smile on her face. Halley started a conversation with Adam while I spoke with Sarah and Mitch. They were so sweet and kind.

"Hey, who's your friends?" I felt my stomach churn. Harry walked back in the room, a bottle of water in his hand as he eyed me and Halley.

"Friends of Willy. You've met him before." Harry shook Willy's hand before turning to me.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand.

"Summer." I said. He smiled.

"I like that. 'S pretty." He held my hand for a moment too long, eyes locked on mine once more. Halley interrupted us.

"Hey, you guys got a place to stay?" Mitch shook his head.

"Nah. We were gonna crash in the car." I looked at Halley with wide eyes. I knew where she was going with this, she seemed so cozy with Adam already.

"No. No. You guys can stay with us. Crash on the couch or the floor. We're cool with it. Right Summer." I blinked, inside I was furious. I hated being put on the spot like that.

"Yeah." I said dryly. "Sure."

"Cool. We'll pack everything up then." Halley grinned.

"It's kinda small but there's room for everybody." Halley said as she opened the door to our apartment. I cringed inwardly. We hadn't even cleaned up, but the band didn't seem to mind. Everyone sat down in the living room while Halley and I went to grab extra blankets.

"You know I hate when you spring shit like this on me." I glared as she handed me a blanket and pillow.

"Oh shut up. Adam's cute and hey, I saw you and Harry having a moment."

"We were not...he was just greeting me." I said flustered. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, they're our guests. Be hospitable."

We all sat around for a while, drinking and talking. Slowly everyone began to fall asleep, Harry and I being the only ones left awake.

We talked for what felt like hours. He told me about his parents, their divorce and his mom and step dad. His sister. How he knew he wanted to be a musician from a young age and when he met Mitch it felt like a sign from the universe. I listened intently, enthralled with the man before me.

"Tell me more about England. I've always wanted to go there." I was on my belly, propped up on my elbows while he sat on the couch. We'd been engrossed in our own conversation for so long that we hadn't realized everyone else fell asleep.

"Where I'm from is quite picturesque. It's a beautiful little town. Maybe one day, if you ever go to England you can come by."

"Maybe." I laughed. "If my photography ever takes me there."

"You have to have faith in yourself love. You'll do it." I was glad he couldn't see me blush in the dark. "I'm glad you came to the show." He said after a moment of silence between us.

"Me too." He shifted, laying back on the couch.

"This is probably weird. But I was wondering....would you like a cuddle? I hate sleeping alone." I was taken aback. But he seemed serious, green eyes looking at me curiously. I couldn't say no. How could I?

"Sure." I said, climbing up on the couch. I laid my head on his chest, slotting my body against his, he wrapped his arms around me, lifting his leg slightly to keep me up on the couch. I felt him nuzzle my head, he was smelling my hair.

"I like this...you smell nice." I didn't reply, only smiled, burying my face in his chest as we drifted off to sleep.

[ancient-artificer]

My Roommate is an Asshole.

Gajevy Week 2019 - Fairy Tail

You can find these collections and more Gajevy prompts on FF and Ao3 under CapAleran2.

Storyline: “Excuse me, I think I heard you wrong. What?” Her voice trembled with the last word.

The only available apartment in the complex had been accidentally rented to two different people.

GW: Roommates Suck #1 - My Roommate is an Asshole.

Well. This was certainly unexpected.

The situation was far less ideal than what was promised to Levy. She had signed the official papers the day before fully expecting a nice, comfortable little space for cheap rent, paid utilities, and on-site laundry. It was absolutely perfect. Or had been up until a few minutes ago.

“Excuse me, I think I heard you wrong. What?” Her voice trembled with the last word.

The only available apartment in the complex had been accidentally rented to two different people.

“What the fuck is this shit?” The sudden, loud rumble caused her to jump in place. His baritone voice was rough. It sounded as though he was a smoker.

With watery-rimmed eyes, Levy turned around to see him shove his copy of the legal document in the manager’s face and hold it there to force him to look at it through his square glasses. The menacing scowl deepened as his voice lowered with enunciated words.

“Fix it. Now.”

Levy found herself silently agreeing with the man, although his demand was downright frightening. Despite their obvious differences in word usage, they did have one extremely large issue in common.

“Ah, w-well, you s-see,” the scrawny man stuttered. He fidgeted under the intense, angry gaze blazing down on him. He touched the frames in front of his eyes. “I can't- there's nothing I can d-do about it. Legally, I mean.”

The taller, well-built man's arms twitched and Levy was immediately concerned that there would be an assault if the situation wasn't remedied. And quickly.

She stepped forward, careful to avoid any contact with the other apparently irate tenant and asked,  “What do you mean, legally? There's really nothing that can be done for us?”

The complex manager broke free of the hold on his shirt and righted it on his shoulders. He threw a tentative glance at the other male in the office before answering.

“There are two official documents stating that each of you is now the tenant of apartment 2B, submitted the same day by two different employees. Apparently, there was a miscommunication in the availability.”

He pulled out a file from the grey filing cabinet against the back wall. Within were the separate contracts both had previously signed. Levy McGarden and Gajeel Redfox were written on the signature lines.

“A miscommunication? Is that what you're calling it? I'd say it's more of a royal fuck up on your end than anything,” Gajeel spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

His choice words and their intensity grated against Levy's psyche. Her hazel eyes briefly shifted to him in mild annoyance.

“Given that there are no other vacant apartments and the deposits have already been made, the only thing I can suggest is maybe... try to live there together. Peaceably, preferably.”

The manager winced after he spoke. He looked at Gajeel and hoped the desk that stood between them was large enough.

Both Levy and Gajeel reacted simultaneously.

“No!”

***

“Yes.”

Levy held her phone to her ear and assured her friend that she was okay. She absentmindedly tapped her finger on the top of her water bottle in the cupholder. “I'm sure it'll be fine,” she said confidently.

“But he's a guy. And one you don't know,” Lucy countered. Her voice sounded unsure.

“Yea, well he's, he's…” Levy paused.

She turned to look out of her driver's side window to see Gajeel sitting in his jeep a few spaces over. He punched the steering wheel a few times. It looked like he was talking to himself.

“...he's different.”

“Mmhmm.”

“We will just have to make the best of a bad situation. I doubt he'll be that bad. The office runs background checks before they consider who can apply.”

“If you say so.”

When she said goodbye to her friend, Levy grabbed her new apartment key and headed for the stairwell.

It was enclosed inside the brick building, which would be ideal in colder weather. A vending machine for both snacks and beverages stood at the far end and marked the entrance to the laundry area. It was all just more checks on the list of good things the complex offered.

She smiled when she saw her appointed number and letter on the brown door. The apartment was neither too far from nor too close to the stairwell. She probably wouldn't hear the other tenants coming and going, especially at night. It also meant she would have a quiet place to read and write with the windows open on the nice warm days. Inserting the key and giving it a turn, Levy happily entered her home.

The distinct new carpet smell welcomed her. A tiled floor by the door gave way to the beige carpet. Through a foyer-like space was the large front room. A half wall separated it from the kitchen. All the appliances were there on the countertops, ready to be used. Beyond that were a hallway, the bathroom and the two bedrooms.

She gazed around, mentally picturing where she would arrange the furniture, where she would place her bookshelves and her pictures. What did this Gajeel have to bring to the table to add to their shared home? Until she knew, she couldn't plan everything out quite yet.

Her hands clasped at her chest around the key, a contented sigh escaped through her nose in the quiet.

A rough bang on the half closed entry announced the presence of another. The abused door flew open to hit against the rubber stopper on the wall. Gajeel trudged in carrying a full cardboard box the size of a small microwave. A stuffed black backpack clung to one of his shoulders.

He briefly halted a few paces ahead of his unexpected roommate, his head swung around like on a swivel to survey the empty place. He didn't even give Levy a second glance as he asked, “Why've ya just been standin’ there?”

Levy's dry lips parted. No words formed. Her wide eyes slid down his tall, broad form, from his uninterested expression to the box cradled between two massive arms. He was terribly intimidating; if he had wanted to he could have snapped her petite body in half with minimal effort.

She blinked.

Gajeel left her still standing in the middle of the living area to check out the bedrooms. The toe of his black boot pushed open one and then he disappeared inside.

Out of curiosity, Levy deliberately peered in from around the wall. It was a spacious area. There were three windows that illuminated the entire room without the need for the overhead light.

The box and backpack had been set on the carpet. He was standing in the middle under the light fixture, his head turning as he seemingly looked around at nothing but the walls.

Levy kept silent as she spied. Hazel eyes moved from his shaggy mess of thick black hair to the triangular shape of his neck and shoulders.

He hummed to himself and turned his body towards the far wall, his back faced her. Large hands found the waistband of his jeans and rested there. “I think it'll fit,” he murmured.

“What will fit?” Levy asked with sudden interest.

She felt like she was intruding, but they were set up to share a small apartment. There was bound to be some future privacy issues. She shuddered and hoped they wouldn't be too crowded.

He responded as if he had known she was there watching all along, saying, “My drum set.”

Levy's heart sped up the moment she heard. Her vision of quiet, relaxing evenings was shattered with his nonchalant words about a musical instrument. “A drum set?! Like an actual big, loud drum set?”

“Relax Shorty,” he drawled. He was still standing there with his hands perched on his hips. “It's electric. The sound's through a headset.” He tapped the side of his head.

Her eyes fell, half-lidded with displeasure. Why did he call her that? She crossed her arms. “I'm not short.”

“Sure,” he dismissed with a scoff. His attention was elsewhere. Somewhere in that big -but sort of handsome- head of his. Whatever was in there.

Her apprehension subsided a bit with that knowledge that he would have a headset. She glanced towards the other bedroom and wondered what it looked like beyond the closed door. Her peripheral detected a shift in the light, and she felt more than saw Gajeel brush past her. His arm knocked hard into her shoulder as he turned the corner in the narrow hall.

“Hey,” she announced. Her hand came up instinctively to lay on her collarbone. Her mouth set into a firm line. Her eyes bore a hole in the back of his head. And he just walked away? He hadn't even said sorry.

When he didn't stop, she frowned and put effort into it. “Gajeel!” she yelled.

“What?” He asked in annoyance with an enunciated ‘T’. His boots planted there on the living room carpet and he slowly turned to look at her, his palm held up in the air.

Words that Levy had been ready to let loose on him swiftly left her at the sight of his chilling frown. Instead, she dumbly stood exactly where she had been. Was it fear? Was she apprehensive because of his dark looks or his fearsome and reckless attitude?

“Um, I- uh-”

His pierced eyebrow rose.

Levy stuttered. “W-what are you doing?”

She inwardly cringed. Why couldn't she think of something else, something better to say? That was it? She could confront assholes on the street more easily than this particular one. Her mind was completely blank.

“I'm going to bring my shit up here,” he replied steadily. His tone was notably close to condescending. “What else is there to do?”

And then he simply left the apartment, not bothering to touch the open door on his way out.

With a long, silent huff, Levy quickly shook her fist in the air after him, her anger turned to frustration. She pulled the door closed and headed down to the parking lot after him. Like Gajeel, she too had things to bring up from her car. The rest of the furniture was in the back of a small trailer.

On her way out of the building entrance, Gajeel passed her carrying another full cardboard box, almost running into her once again. It was as if he didnt see her at all. His focus was on the stairs before him as he ascended.

Levy's frown deepened and her mouth fell slightly open while she stared. A tiny sound escaped her throat. What was with this guy?

A sense of dread began to fill her stomach. Maybe she would have to find another place. But then if she did her current deposit was forfeited. She couldn't afford to shell out another moving fee and deposit.

Groaning, she did the only thing she could think of at that moment and start officially moving in. All of the items she had fit in her car she comfortably toted up to the apartment. Unlike her new roommate's, her things went directly to her bedroom, set along the back wall to make room for the bigger items later.

It was small. Smaller than the room Gajeel had claimed. It had built in bookshelves on either side of the doorway, which was a pleasant surprise. But what it lacked in initial space it made up for in a large walk-in closet.

When she strolled out from the hall, the carpet was littered with his junk. Her lip wanted to curl. Was he a slob? Random crates and rickety boxes overflowing with Gajeel's personal items. Mostly clothing, though there was a laptop, music devices, and a distasteful calendar that Levy covered over with a rogue jacket that was draped over the side of a box, among other things.

Her gaze landed on a blue milk crate full of books. It was set apart from the rest, on a haphazardly placed brown end table by the hall's light switch.

Gajeel was a reader? From what she’d encountered so far, Levy would have never pegged him. There really was more to someone than outward appearance.

Gently picking through the books, she found that most of them were classics. Their hard covers were worn from use, the pages creased on the top corners. None of them had bookmarks. She had to tell him not to dog-ear his books like that.

“What’re you doing?” his rough voice announced in question.

The three books tumbled from her hands to fall in a heap by the table. His unexpected voice had scared her. “Um, I was just looking. Sorry,” she began as she bent to pick up the downturned books. “I love to read so I just…” Trying to find an excuse, her lips fell silent.

He considered her for a moment, the drawers to a dresser occupying his arms. It seemed as though he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. His mouth shut. He didn't seem angry, but Levy was cautious.

“Don't ya have yer own things to get?” he calmly asked instead. His red eyes gave her a once over before settling back to her face.

Relief rushed through Levy at his civility. “Yes, but I was waiting for you. I need help. I've gotten everything that I could manage myself.”

He humphed and continued about his business, taking the drawers to his room. When he re emerged some seconds later, he gestured to her without slowing down. “Alright. Come on.”

Without needing to be told a second time, Levy followed her roommate.

“It's the trailer there,” she said once they were in the parking lot. A silver trailer was parked in the back. After they emptied it, she would have to notify for its pickup.

“I kinda figured,” Gajeel commented. There was only one moving trailer on the lot.

“Right.” Levy bit her cheek. Her eyes flickered up to him.

His lips were twisted, as if he was trying not to smile. He turned his head away, seemingly interested in a few birds flying overhead before she could be sure.

Standing by the ramp, Levy let him walk in and start picking things to haul out. She watched with her arms crossed over her chest as he picked up a large, clear tote of notebooks, pencil pouches, and various books with a grunt.

The sound of something rolling around inside abruptly stopped as he presented it, most likely a loose pen or pencil. His eyebrow rose and he looked at her.

“I like to write, okay?”

Her lips slid into a grin when she watched him shake his head and his confused expression give way to his own version of a smile.

Soon only her mattress and the bed frame, her bookshelves, dresser, and a long desk were the only things left. She had no idea how she would have gotten them out and up the stairs without his help. The only reason they were in the trailer to begin with is she had had help in moving out of her old place.

He took most of the weight, letting her steer them once they hit the stairwell. His patience with the desk had nearly expired when they hit the wall as they maneuvered the corner, causing the desk's edge to punch into his stomach.

“Lift it, Levy,” he commanded, looking up at her from the bottom. The legs were scraping the steps.

“I am.”

She threw her weight upwards only for nothing to happen. The wooden box drawers were on both ends, making it nearly impossible for her. They should have taken them out before they started the trek, but they couldn't now in the narrow space.

“Yer doin’ it wrong,” he roughly accused.

“How am I wrong?” She answered back just the same. One of her hands came up on reflex, her palm upwards in irritation.

He lowered his head as she spoke and blew out a quick breath in his own annoyance. He lifted his end once more, but when he did, the corner caught the brick wall, effectively halting his progress before it could really begin.

His body continued right into the stationary edge.

Bouncing backwards from it, Gajeel doubled over. A pained growl rumbled from his chest. His mouth formed around a word, but refrained from spitting it out.

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” Levy blurted. She let go of her end of the desk.

“Get out of the way,” he ordered. Anger -probably more embarrassment- simmered in his eyes.

She did so and watched with astonishment as he gathered himself and hauled, lifting the long piece of furniture with a deep grunt. He was fast enough to use the momentum and all but throw it and himself up around the corner.

The desk was now set for a straight path up the rest of the way and to their apartment.

Levy was immediately grateful that she had Gajeel for any heavy lifting.

Giving a breath, he turned to her. His eyes were now impassive. “Can you get around it?” He asked.

Levy hummed. There was a few inches of space between the desk and the brick wall, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fit. “Only a kid could squeeze through there. But, I think I could climb over it.”

Gajeel simply stood to catch his breath and let her do what she had suggested. In amusement, he placed his hands on his hips and watched as her tiny form scrambled up and over the smooth tabletop. Her jean shorts accentuated her curves and her plump ass stared squarely up at him for the briefest of moments.

A grin spread on his face. He let himself look, but kept his hands on his waistband.

Once they were at their apartment with the desk safely in her bedroom without further incident, they shut the front door with a sigh.

The place was an absolute wreck. Nothing was organized and nothing was in a convenient setup. The couch was shoved halfway in the kitchen with her clothing totes upon it. There was one visible walkway through the living room to the hall, the rest of the floor and furniture was littered.

Levy was thirsty, but the box containing kitchen utensils was somewhere buried under the mess. It would take them a few days to sort everything out. “What do you wanna do for dinner?” she asked aloud.

“I dunno.” His voice was muffled. It sounded a little distant as he worked on neatly plugging in the tv and game consoles at the outlet behind the big flat screen. “I don't care, do what ya want.”

“You don't have a favorite place to eat?”  she asked.

“I'll eat anything, just pick something.”

Levy hummed. “Chinese? There's a place a few blocks from here.”

“That's fine,” he replied, and then popped up triumphantly. He turned on the tv. On the screen was the console main logo. Without turning to Levy, he said, “After we eat, ya wanna try out yer new tv?”

Looking up from the restaurant's menu on her phone, she saw the screen as he punched in his passcode. The more she looked at the set up, the more she felt out of her element. “I don't know, I've never really played on one…”

“Really, well yer gonna learn tonight.” Gajeel cleared an area of the floor a few feet from the tv stand and abruptly sat down. He kicked off his boots and quickly took off his grey shirt, leaving him in a white tank. He picked up the controller.

“What about the mess in here?” She lifted a hand and waved it at all of the things brought up and thrown in no particular order as if showcasing a nice car on display.

Gajeel made a sound with his mouth. “We're gonna be here for at least a year. We can sort it tomorrow. Give yer'self a break.” He added with an afterthought, “Does that Chinese place deliver?”

“Uhh.” She scrolled down on her phone. “Yes.”

“Order it for delivery and then get over here.” He let a genuine smile slip up on his face. He set a black controller beside him as if to save her a seat.

Her own smile appeared as she ordered their food. Then she picked her way through their junk and slowly sat down beside him. He was at ease and relaxed as he started to explain a game he thought she would enjoy. When he presented an eye creasing smile, his red eyes warm, she found herself begin to mirror him. Maybe having a new roommate wouldn't be so bad...

[hmhteen]

Cover (Re)reveal + HMH Teen Teaser: YOU OWE ME A MURDER by Eileen Cook!

Thrillers are the best at providing twisty endings you never saw coming...so it makes sense that YOU OWE ME A MURDER would start thrilling readers with a cover switcheroo! That’s right, this YA perfect for fans of GENUINE FRAUD and ONE OF US IS LYING has a new cover. 

And here’s a plot twist: in addition to sharing the cover below, we’re sharing an excerpt, too. 

***

ONE

AUGUST  15

16 DAYS REMAINING

I plotted murder in the Vancouver airport while waiting at gate D78 for my flight to London.

Based on the expressions of the people around me, I wasn’t the only one thinking of how to do someone in. Our flight was delayed and everyone was irritated and restless. The couple at the end of the row were fighting about which one of them had forgotten to lock the bedroom window before they left. Then there were at least a half-dozen people wanting to take out the toddler wearing the SpongeBob T-shirt, who vacillated between shrieking at a decibel normally used to torture dogs and running around slamming into everyone with his grimy hands.

The old guy across from me snarled, baring his yellowed teeth, every time the kid whirled in his direction. You’d think that would freak the toddler out, but it didn’t seem to make any impact. Maybe the little boy got his ability to ignore unpleasant things from his mom. She stared down at an issue of People magazine, her lips moving as she read, completely ignoring the fact that people in the gate area wanted to club her kid with their roller bags. The only way you knew it was her child was that when he would slam into her, she’d hold out a limp plastic baggie filled with rainbow-colored gummy worms and then drop one into his clutching hand. She was like an apathetic mama bird.

I tilted my head to the side to crack the tension in my neck. I wished I could block things out that well. Instead I found myself continually looking over at Connor. My back teeth clenched, tight enough to crack. Miriam was perched on his lap. I told myself to stop staring, but my attention kept being pulled back. He slid his hand under her shirt and rubbed her back in tight circles. I knew that move. He’d done that to me.

Before he’d dumped me.

Miriam ruffled his hair. He couldn’t stand it when I’d done that. He’d push my hand away or duck out of my reach. Connor had gone deaf after a bout of chicken pox as a kid and had cochlear implants so he could hear. He wore his hair a bit shaggy because he didn’t like to draw attention to the proces- sor behind his ears. I’d found it fascinating. Not just because it’s a pretty cool piece of tech, but also because I wanted to know how he felt going from a silent world to being able to hear. But he didn’t like to talk about it, or for me to touch his hair. 

Apparently, he didn’t have the same hang-up with Miriam. I reminded myself that I didn’t care. Connor meant nothing to me now. I swallowed hard.

Toddler SpongeBob slammed into me. His sticky fingers, streaked red and blue from the candy, clutched my jeans. He stared up at me with his watery eyes and then, without look- ing away, slowly lowered his drooling, slobbery mouth to my knee and bit me.

“Hey!” I shoved him hard without thinking. He teetered for a moment and then fell onto his giant padded diaper butt, letting out a cry. I glanced around guiltily, shame landing on my chest with a thud. His mother didn’t even look over. The old man gave me a thumbs-up gesture. Great — that’s me, Kim, the kind of person who beats up preschoolers when she’s not stalking her ex-boyfriend. I crouched down to help the kid up, but he pushed me away and returned to running wildly up and down the aisle.

I peered down at my phone, wishing I could call my best friend, Emily. She always knew how to cheer me up. She was spending the entire summer working at a camp on the far side of Vancouver Island. She didn’t have any cell service or WiFi, so there was going to be no quick “everything will be fine” text or call. Granted, if I’d been able to reach her earlier in the sum- mer, I might not even have been in this situation at all. Com- municating old school — by letters — might be vintage and nostalgic, but it does you no good when you have an emotional disaster that needs immediate BFF interaction.

We’d been friends since elementary school and this was the longest I’d ever gone without talking to her. So far, my summer was proof positive that I shouldn’t be allowed to handle things on my own. I fished the last card she’d sent me out of my bag. Inside she’d scribbled, “I know you can do this! Your trip’s going to be amazing!!” Emily never met an exclamation point that she didn’t like. Despite the positive punctuation, I was pretty sure she was wrong on both counts. I felt far from capable, and although the flight hadn’t even left, I already hated everything about this trip.

I took a deep breath, counting in for three and then letting it whoosh out. I can do this. I wasn’t going to let Emily and my parents down.

A few rows over, Miriam laughed, tossing her head back as if Connor had just told the best joke of all time. She playfully punched him in the chest with her tiny little hand. Everything about her was miniaturized. She told everyone she was five feet tall, but she was four eleven at best. She looked ridiculous when she stood next to Connor. He could have put her into his backpack and carried her around like a Chihuahua.

I had to admit Miriam was pretty, other than being freakishly petite. She had long dark hair that could have starred in a shampoo commercial. Her only flaw was that she wore too much eyeliner. She was addicted to the cat’s-eye look, accentuating the slant of her eyes. She had a flair for drama; she always made huge gestures, sweeping her arms around, flicking her hair over a shoulder, or talking loudly as if she was constantly trying to make sure everyone could hear her. She was in the theater crowd, so maybe she couldn’t help herself.

I never would have guessed Connor would date someone like her: showy. I thought he’d enjoyed that we didn’t always have to be talking, but if we did, it was about important stuff: Philosophy. Science. Politics. We met once at the coffee shop in the morning before work and split up the Globe and Mail, silently passing the newspaper sections back and forth. He was the only other person I knew besides me who liked to read an actual paper. I’d caught our reflection in the window and thought we looked like adults. Like people who lived in New York or Toronto, with important jobs, a fancy high-rise apart- ment with lots of glass and chrome, and a membership to the local art museum.

Miriam had no volume control, but she wasn’t stupid. I didn’t know her well — she hung with the drama crowd — but I wouldn’t have thought Connor was her type. I would have seen her liking a guy with an earring and some kind of social justice agenda. She wasn’t in the hard sciences but still took a bunch of AP courses. She’d written some paper on Shakespeare that won a national award for English geeks. No wonder I wanted to kill her.

I sighed. I didn’t want to kill her, I wanted to be her. Miriam hadn’t stolen Connor. Someone can’t steal what you don’t have. He didn’t dump me because he’d fallen for her. What had happened between us was complicated. More complicated than I even wanted to admit. He had his own reasons for stomping on my heart. If I was going to take anyone out, it should be him. But no matter whom I blamed, it didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few weeks watching the two of them make out in front of me. I shook my head to clear it. As everyone kept reminding me, it would be for only sixteen days.

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see them, but I could still hear Miriam. Her drama teacher should be proud of how well Miriam’s voice carried. She was four feet eleven of all lungs. Her voice filled the entire gate area and spread down the hall like toxic lava. I could tell already that the sound would be like fingernails on a chalkboard by the end of the trip.

The worst part was that I’d pleaded to go. I told my parents if they let me attend, they’d never have to get me another gift. Once Connor had announced he was going — before we’d broken up — I’d been instantly consumed with images of the two of us walking hand in hand through narrow cobblestone streets. The program was advertised as if it were a great edu- cational opportunity, but the truth was, there weren’t any real demands. We’d be “exposed” to culture, as though it were a cold we could catch. I didn’t really care about the chance to travel, or what I might learn from the sights of London; what mattered was going with him. I didn’t want him to be away for almost three weeks, doing all these things without me. I loved the idea of starting school in September with the two of us chatting constantly about “remember the time we were in London?” until everyone around us was annoyed.

In retrospect, I know he wanted to come because he didn’t think I was going. He signed up without talking it over, telling me only after it was a done deal. I pleaded with my parents for days, never admitting that I wanted to go because of Connor and instead laying it on thick how it was a great way to expand my horizons, how amazing it would look on my university apps, and how I’d suddenly developed a fascination with British history, until they gave in.

Then, after things with Connor blew up in my face, I’d begged my parents to let me bail, but they wouldn’t budge. They insisted it wasn’t the deposit, it was the point. My dad called it a chance for me to “build character.” As far as he was concerned, Connor had never been worth my time. He made a snide comment about Connor’s overbite, which, coming from a dentist, was some serious trash talk.

My mom had made a dismissive sniff and told me “he’s not worth bothering over.” She acted as though she didn’t like him, but when I’d first told her about Connor, she’d been as excited as me. He was exactly the kind of boy she would have liked at my age, and the exact kind of boy she assumed would never know her awkward daughter even existed. She looked at me differently, as if her ugly duckling had finally hit possible swan status. We went shopping together and got matching hot pink mani-pedis. We’d never gotten along as well as we had for those few weeks.

Then when things went bad with him, my mom acted as if she were the one who’d been humiliated. She might have said she wanted me to go on the trip because it was a chance to travel, but she also wanted me to be the kind of person who held her head high to handle the situation the way she would have done. And I wanted to be that person too — the kind who would have a fantastic time regardless of a breakup and, by the end of the trip, see Connor desperately sorry he’d broken up with me. All while making a pack of new friends.

However, if I was going to go full fantasy, I might as well add in that the queen would invite me to the palace, and Will and Kate would ask me to baby-sit, and Harry and Meghan would offer to hook me up with some minor count or a duke. The truth was, the next few weeks were going to suck.

And I was going to be stuck strapped in directly behind the lovebirds for the entire flight, watching them crawl all over each other in the tiny coach seats. I squeezed my eyes shut as if I could block out the mental image playing on the big screen of my mind. I’d told myself a thousand times since we’d all checked in and I’d heard our seating assignments that I could handle this, but with every second that went by, it was becoming increasingly clear to me that I wouldn’t make it. I’d snap somewhere thirty-three thousand feet up and beat the two of them over the head with the in-flight magazine.

Or start crying again. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. You would think there was only so much crying a person could do before she got completely dehydrated. I’d told myself I couldn’t stand him anymore, so why did my heart still seize and my throat grow tight every time he was around?

I stood up so suddenly that my bag fell to the floor. I snatched it up and strode over to the airline counter. The gate agent didn’t look up. She was too preoccupied typing into her computer. Her fingernails, which had a thick layer of bright red gel polish, made a strange clacking sound on the keys. I cleared my throat, but she still didn’t stop.

“Excuse me,” I managed to get out before she held up a fin- ger to silence me.

She finally finished whatever she was doing and glanced up. “If you’re asking about the delay, I don’t have any more information. As soon as we get clearance, we’ll start boarding.” There was makeup creased on her forehead and I suspected she was on her last nerve. She was a walking reminder to never go into a customer service occupation.

I leaned forward even though logically I knew Connor couldn’t hear me from where he was sitting. “I wondered if I could change my seat?”

 She scrunched up her face. “I don’t think —”

“See the guy back there?” I yanked my head in Connor’s direction. “That’s my ex-boyfriend. We’re going to England on a travel program. I’m supposed to sit right behind him.” I paused. “For nine hours.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she looked over my shoulder.

I sensed I was getting somewhere. “He was my first boyfriend.” My voice cracked and I had to swallow over and over to keep control. “He dumped me just a couple weeks ago.”

Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but

I can’t —”

“That’s his new girlfriend. She used to be my best friend.” The gate agent sucked in a breath and looked over at Connor as though he were something she’d scraped off her shoe.

I felt bad as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Mir- iam and I had never even hung out before this trip, let alone been friends, but I needed the agent to help me. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

I don’t lie to hurt people, or to pull something over on them, but I guess sometimes I . . . make up stories to make myself more interesting. As long as I can remember, I’ve done it. On the playground in elementary school, I told the other kids that fairies lived in my backyard. In junior high I let everyone think I’d been adopted. I didn’t want to lie. I wanted to be normal and interesting, but I wasn’t.

I hadn’t lied with Connor. With him I’d been one hun- dred percent honest about my feelings, and look how that had turned out.

The agent clacked away on the computer. “Your name?” 

“Kim, Kim Maher.” I spelled my last name.

“I need your old boarding pass.” I slid the limp piece of paper across the counter. She tore it in half as the machine spat out a new one. She passed it over to me with a wink. “He doesn’t deserve you. Have a good trip.”

The tight band around my chest loosened. “Thanks.”

I wove through the crowd clustered around the gate and plopped back down in my seat. I pushed the New York Times I’d already read out of the way and pulled out the magazine I’d brought. I hid between the pages, blinking back tears. The gate agent was right. Connor didn’t deserve me. It was the same thing Emily told me. But even if I knew it was true, it didn’t hurt any less. All I had to do was figure out how to get my heart to catch up to the fact that my head didn’t like him anymore.

A girl slid a few seats over to be next to me. “Did she say anything about the delay?” Her English accent made me feel as if I’d dropped onto the set of a BBC historical drama.

I shook my head and quickly wiped my eyes so she wouldn’t notice the tears. “No news.”

The girl sighed. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She tugged the thin cream cashmere sweater sleeves over her hands. She glanced down at the stack of paper on the chair next to me. “Your Times?”

I nodded.

“Did you read the article about the changes to the space program? I saw it earlier this morning.”

I jumped slightly in surprise. She seemed like someone who would spot a copy of InStyle at a hundred meters but wouldn’t know a shuttle from a rocket if she were whacked across the face with one of them. “Uh-huh.” I picked up the paper, look- ing for the Science section.

“I think that’s what I like about a real paper,” she said. “It’s like a knowledge Easter egg hunt. You never know what you’re going to find.”

I nodded like a bobble-head doll. That was exactly why I

loved reading a paper too. “Yeah. Are you into space stuff?” She shrugged. “Just find it interesting.”

I held out my hand. “I’m Kim.”

“Nicki.” She smiled as we shook. “How come you aren’t hanging with the rest of your group?” She motioned to a cou- ple rows over. There were eight of us on the trip and we were all on this flight. A few had busted out cards to play a game on the blue carpeted floor, and the others were clustered around Jamal’s laptop checking out his music.

“How did you know —” I got out before she flicked the blue

and white student scholars for change tag attached to carryon. I’d forgotten I was branded. “Ah. I’m not really friends with any of them. There are just three of us from my high school. It’s complicated,” I said.

Nicki nodded. “Story of my life. I was here visiting my dad, and the reason he lives here, instead of in London with me and my mum, is all sorts of complicated too.”

Nicki tucked her hair behind her ears. Her bob wasn’t quite long enough, so as soon as she did, the hair fell free and swung forward again. “Sorry, that came out a bit pissy. I just find other people . . . ugh. I don’t know. Disappointing.” She shoved her hair back again.

“Story of my life,” I said, echoing her words. She laughed and it reminded me of scales on a piano.

Nicki tapped the robotics magazine on my lap. “You plan on going into robotics at uni?”

I shook my head. “Not sure. I’m leaning toward engineer- ing, maybe computers.”

She waited until an announcement about a flight to Phoe- nix stopped blaring on the PA. “I’m thinking psychology. I’m interested in research. This is my gap year.” She watched the unsupervised toddler fish a booger out of his nose and rub it into his hair.

“What kind of research?”

“Human behavior. I don’t have any interest in being a coun- selor. People blathering about their problems all day would drive me barmy. But I’m intrigued with why people do what they do, why they don’t do some things, what they could accomplish, that kind of thing.”

I traced the pattern in the carpet with my shoe. Under- standing other people was one of the great mysteries in my life. “If you ever figure people out, you’ll have to let me know what you discover. Math I can make sense of, but people are more confusing than quantum physics. Give me a robot any day.”

She laughed. “Don’t give up on humanity just yet. Maybe

you haven’t met anyone worth figuring out.”

The overhead speaker chirped to life. “Attention: Passen- gers on Air Canada flight 854 to London. Due to aircraft main- tenance issues, this flight will be further delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience.” The crowd groaned. The screen over our gate flickered and a new departure time, three hours from now, blinked on.

Connor stood and stretched. “Who wants to find a place to

watch the Whitecaps game?”

Our group began to gather up their stuff. He was like the pied piper of nerdy people. Everyone was willing to follow him. Miriam walked over toward me.

“Do you want to come?” she offered. Her legs were so small that her size extra small leggings were baggy around her thighs. She must buy her clothing in a kids’ department.

“No thanks,” I managed to say, willing her to walk away. Or

she could disappear completely — I was open to that, too.

“You can’t want to just hang around here for the next three hours.” Miriam nudged my tote with her foot. “C’mon, we’ll all get some fries or something. It’ll be fun.”

Fun wasn’t even in the top ten words that I would think of to describe the situation. “I’m fine,” I insisted. It was bad enough that Connor wanted nothing to do with me. It was worse that he started dating someone else right away. It was a nightmare that I was stuck on this trip with them. But her being nice to me was a layer of shit icing on this crap cupcake. I didn’t even know how much Connor had told her about what had happened between the two of us. I wasn’t sure what I preferred: that she knew and felt pity for me, or that he hadn’t told her anything because he didn’t think I was worth mentioning. I slouched lower in the seat.

“Leave it — she doesn’t want to come. Trust me, no one will miss her with that attitude.” Connor strode over and took Mir- iam’s hand without even glancing at me.

I flushed. He was right. I was a walking black cloud of doom. I hadn’t bothered to get to know anyone else coming on the trip and now I was going to be miserable and alone.

“Gawd, he’s a tosser,” Nicki said, loud enough to carry.

I wasn’t entirely certain what it meant, but it sounded both hysterical and insulting. I burst out laughing.

Connor and Miriam walked off down the hall, the rest of the group following behind them. He glanced over his shoulder at us, and when he saw we were still staring, he whirled back around.

My chest filled with air. I felt like one of those large balloons at a parade — ready to float away. “I don’t know what you said, but you’re my new favorite person on this planet,” I said. I meant it, too. My BFF couldn’t be reached except by letter. Emily might as well have been in space for all the help she could give me.

“That guy is a loser.” Nicki pulled me from my seat. “I can tell, because as we’ve already established, I study people. You can pay me back for correctly identifying him as a wanker by keeping me entertained for the next few hours.”

“How would you like me to do that?”

Nicki’s smile spread across her face. “We’re smart women, we’ll think of something.”

 TWO

AUGUST  15

Nicki stopped short outside the duty-free store, causing me to nearly slam into her back. She seemed entranced by the bright lights bouncing off a display of jewel-colored perfume bottles.

“Let’s go in here,” she said.

“They won’t have gum,” I noted. “There’s another store down just a bit further.” I pointed, but she’d already started to weave her way through the aisles. She randomly picked up items: a stuffed bear holding a satin heart, a giant Toblerone bar, and a box of washed-out pastel-colored saltwater taffy. She inspected each one as if she worked for quality control and then put each back down. I trailed after her.

My mouth still burned from the jalapeños I’d had at lunch. Nicki claimed the best thing to eat before a big flight was huevos rancheros. She insisted the combination of protein from the eggs and cheese, along with the spice from the salsa, would ensure a good sleep on the plane. When I pointed out the entrée wasn’t on the menu, she’d raised one perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “Ordering off the menu is for the common person,” she’d declared. When the waiter came over, she turned on the charm, and before I’d known what was happening, he dropped off two custom plates just for us. And she was right — the huge meal made me want a nap.

Nicki grabbed a stuffed zebra and gave it a squeeze. “Things like this make me wish I had a kid brother or sister. Let me guess, you’re an only child too.”

My mouth fell open. “How did you —”

“Only children are different. They have to amuse them- selves growing up. They’re independent, better problem solvers. There’s tons of research on it. I could tell by the way you’ve been talking. You’re just like me.”

Technically, I wasn’t just like her. I never knew what to say when people asked if I had any siblings. “About a half-dozen fully frozen” seemed too flip and required an explanation. Saying I was an only child felt like lying about the existence of my parents’ cryogenically suspended embryos. They were my brothers and sisters, just in cold storage in a medical lab.

My parents hadn’t had an easy time getting pregnant. Thanks to the fact that my mom was an early blogger, the whole world knew about their struggles. Then after three rounds of IVF, I took. My mom called me MBK on her blog — Miracle Baby Kim. She said she used the initials to protect my privacy, but how private could my life be when she plastered every one of my development milestones in cyberspace for the whole world to see?

Somewhere on the Internet there’s a picture of me as a three-year-old, wearing a tiara and giant pink fuzzy slippers, sitting on the toilet with the caption “MBK Finally Masters Potty Training!” The “finally” is a nice touch; nothing I like bet- ter than people thinking I was delayed in the hygiene depart- ment. My mom’s name was all over her blog; it didn’t exactly take a Mensa-level IQ to figure out that I was MBK. The truth was, she didn’t care how I felt about the blog. What she cared about were all the people who read it and gave her nonstop “you’re the best mom ever” feedback.

The year I turned ten, my mom wrote a long blog post where she announced to her legions of fans that she and my dad were officially giving up their efforts to have more children. They couldn’t keep up the nonstop cycles of IVF. It seemed Mother Nature didn’t have it in the plans for my mom to be the mother she wanted to be, with a minivan and the ability to construct something out of Legos while simultaneously preparing an organic dinner for her large happy family. And while she wanted to focus on her blessing (Beautiful MBK!), she could still grieve for what could have been and she would always see those frozen embryos as her babies. The Huffington Post picked up that blog post and ran it on their site. It’s one of their most downloaded pieces. They rerun it on Mother’s Day most years.

It was around that time that I started to become aware that I was a disappointment to my mom. When she’d imag- ined having children, none of them were like me. She wanted a daughter who liked to play with dolls and whom she’d punish with a wag of her finger, all while smiling at how adorable it was that I stole her makeup. My desire for tangle-free short hair and passion for books and blanket forts befuddled her. Why didn’t I want to skip rope outside with the other girls? Why didn’t I let her braid my hair into complicated patterns befitting a Disney princess? Why wasn’t I similar to her at all? How could she be a mothering expert when her own kid was so . . . awkward?

My mom was one of the first mommy bloggers. Thousands of people still read her site daily. They comment on her reci- pes (Super YUM Crock-Pot Meals!) and reviews of baby items (Bugaboo Strollers Worth Every Penny!). She’s blogged about how motherhood is hard and disappointing, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. I can’t be the only one who realizes that she’s trying to talk herself into that fact. I believe that my mom loves me, I just don’t think she likes me. If she’d had more kids, maybe it would have made a difference. I guess neither of us will ever know.

Nicki sniffed a bottle of Burberry Brit perfume and then spritzed a tiny bit on her wrist. She held out her arm for me and I leaned in.

“Nice,” I said, but she’d already moved on to the next display.

 She stared up at the tower of Grey Goose vodka. “Want some for the flight?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t think even you can talk this place into selling us booze.”

Nicki winked and I noticed she was wearing a hint of a shimmery eye shadow. “Who says they’re going to sell it?”

My heart picked up speed. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we were alone. “You’re going to steal it?” I asked, lowering my voice. My heart rabbited into overdrive.

“No, we’re going to steal it,” she said, her light brown eyes sparkling. “No one ever suspects the nicely dressed girl with a British accent. They think I’m too posh to sink to thievery.”

A swarm of spastic butterflies tried to take flight inside my lungs. I was pretty sure I didn’t look too posh to be arrested. “I don’t know . . .”

“Up to you.”

The chatter from the two clerks at the front of the store as they debated the merits of Ryan Reynolds seemed unnaturally loud to my ears. I bit the inside of my cheek. “What happens if we get caught?”

Nicki’s lips curled up, Grinch-like. “Bad things. That’s why we’ll do it so we don’t get caught.” Her head tilted slightly toward the bottles of booze. “They haven’t put on the plastic antitheft devices yet, and I don’t see any cameras.”

She was right. Every other bottle in the store had a black plastic disk attached around the neck, but the display of Grey Goose was naked. I could almost hear the angel and devil perched on my shoulders. One advising me to do the right thing and go on to the next store and buy a pack of Trident like a good girl, and the other telling me that it wouldn’t kill me to take a risk now and then. Where had playing it safe gotten me? I wanted to be someone else, anyone else. Maybe if I wanted to change the course of my life I needed to change the things I did. Be someone who did daring things, like Nicki.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

Nicki poked my leather tote bag. “When it’s time, grab the closest bottle and drop it in.”

“How will I know it’s time?”

She tapped me on the nose. “You’ll know because you’re smart.” She turned back to the perfume display and grabbed a small bottle. “I’m going to check the price — my mom loves this stuff.” She’d taken only a few steps when her foot hooked into the handles of a brightly colored canvas bag stamped with a maple leaf and the words canada forever, sitting on the floor among other similar bags.

I opened my mouth to warn her, but she’d already jerked forward with a loud oomph. Her arms flew up as she fell and the bottle of perfume collided with the ground with a brittle smash. A cloud of a citrus and musk scent filled the air. The clerks flew to her side.

I was about to do the same when I realized this was it. My hand jerked out as if it were under the authority of another force and yanked a bottle of vodka off the display, plopping it into my tote. I jammed my elbow over the top of the bag to pinch it shut and hustled to where Nicki was now standing between the two clerks. My heart beat out of control.

“Are you okay?” I asked, surprised that my voice didn’t crack with the electric tension filling every inch of my body, zapping down my nerves, lighting me up from the inside.

“I’m okay. I think.” Nicki looked down at the broken glass on the floor and her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ll have to pay for the perfume.” The tall clerk pointed to a you break it, you buy it sign by the entrance.

Nicki drew herself even straighter. “But I wasn’t being careless. I tripped on your bags, which were all over the floor.” The mouth on the tall clerk pressed into a tight line, like a slash across her face. “If you don’t pay for it, we have to call a manager.”

Panic flashed like a bright white light. I had to do something. I kicked the canvas bags now strewn across the floor. “You should call a supervisor. Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy talking, and instead had straightened up this mess, it wouldn’t have happened at all. You know, if she’s hurt, you’re liable. My dad’s a lawyer — he deals with this stuff all the time.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to swallow them back down. I hoped I was right. My dad was a dentist. Any legal knowledge I had was from watching The People’s Court when I stayed home sick from school. What had I done?

Nicki’s lip twitched. “Now that I think about it, my back is quite sore. I hit the floor pretty hard.” She rubbed the base of her spine.

The tall clerk looked ready to clobber Nicki, but the shorter woman with her hair tied up in a mountain of tiny braids put her hand lightly on the arm of the other. “We’re certainly sorry you fell.”

Nicki met her gaze. “And I’m sorry that the bottle broke.” The short clerk smiled, her white teeth as bright as the wall

tiles. “Well then, why don’t we just decide that no harm’s been done?” The tension that had been coiling inside me released.

“Are you sure?” Nicki asked. Her eyes were so wide, she looked like an anime character. When the clerk nodded, Nicki reached for me. “We should get back; our flight will be leaving soon.”

I nodded solemnly as if I were very concerned about time- liness. Every muscle in my body clenched as I walked over the threshold, anticipating a piercing alarm going off, but nothing happened. Nicki gripped my elbow. “Don’t look back. Only guilty people look behind them.”

My neck stiffened and I kept moving forward down the hall. The adrenaline that had rushed through my system seconds ago was now bailing ship and I felt lightheaded. My bag weighed a hundred pounds. I half expected every person we passed to develop x-ray vision, see through my tote, and point me out as a shoplifter. Nicki seemed to sense I was barely hold- ing it together, and she pulled me along until we reached an empty gate area. We both started giggling as we dropped into a row of seats.

“I can’t believe I did that,” I said. I opened the bag expecting the vodka to be missing, a figment of my imagination, but the bottle was there. I glanced quickly at Nicki to see if she was impressed that I’d actually done it.

“Since we’re headed to England it would have been more fitting to have nicked some gin, but a girl has to work with the opportunities she’s got.” Nicki patted the side of my leather bag. “You were perfect. When you said that line about how I could sue them, I wanted to cheer.”

I shook my head. “Are you kidding? As soon as I took the bottle, all I wanted to do was run for it. I felt like I was going to freak out at any moment.”

She laughed. “But you didn’t. Being good at something doesn’t mean that it isn’t hard or scary — it just means that you keep moving forward when other people quit.”

I laughed. “I tend to be a quitter. I’m scared of everything.” “Like what?”

I rolled my eyes. “I could make a list a mile long. For start- ers, I’m terrified of heights. I won’t even go to my grandparents’ new condo in Miami because they live on the twentieth floor. Usually when things scare me, I’m the first one to bail. I won’t go skiing, kayaking, or anyplace that looks like it will have spiders, and I get hives when I have to go to the dentist and my dad’s a dentist.”

Nicki wrinkled up her nose. “Now, I get the dentist phobia, but heights? If you’re going to be scared, be scared of something good.” She laughed. “You were scared to take the liquor, but you did it. That’s the difference between ordinary people and extraordinary. Extraordinary people might be afraid, but they do it anyway.”

My chin lifted slightly in the air. The shame over stealing was mixed up with pride in doing something risky. I wanted to brag about what I’d done and apologize all at the same time. Most of all I wanted her to keep talking. “I still can’t believe I did that,” I said. I wanted her to understand I wasn’t some- one who did things like this. Heck, I wasn’t someone who did things at all, but maybe it was as simple as deciding that I didn’t want to be that person anymore.

Nicki threw an arm around me and gave me a half hug. “Think about it. I wonder what you might do if you let yourself really go? You know, every accomplishment starts with the decision to try. And then keep trying, even when it’s hard.” She smirked. “And of course, if life gives you an opportunity, take it before it disappears. Or at least before they put the antitheft device on it.”

I packed up what she said and placed it carefully into my memory. It struck me that her advice was important. Not because I wanted to become a master criminal — I felt bad about taking the booze and couldn’t imagine doing it again. But . . . I liked that I’d done it at least once. Been like Nicki. Daring. Not afraid. She seemed to have figured out the secret to life. All the brochures for the Student Scholars program had stressed how travel made a person grow. I’d secretly thought it was a bunch of marketing bullshit. How could a change in geography make a difference? But maybe it was possible: I could evolve into someone else. I could almost picture my mom’s approval . . . and the blog post she’d write about it.

The public-address system squawked and announced that our flight would start boarding. I couldn’t believe how the three hours had flown by. I pulled the bottle slightly out of the bag. “Do you want this?”

“You keep it. I don’t know the whole story with the guy and girl back at the gate, but I suspect you need it more than me.” She pushed herself up from the seat with a ladylike grunt. “We should get going. I still want to get that gum.”

I reached for her arm before she started to walk away. “Thanks. I was feeling really down before.”

“That’s what friends are for!” She poked me in the side as if I were being silly.

“Well, I appreciate you making me a friend after only a few hours.”

Nicki smiled. “Don’t you know? I decided we were friends the instant we met.”

***

YOU OWE ME A MURDER will be available on 3.12.19! Pre-order from any of the links below.

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[nialledfromfics]

- one -

“I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means you’ll hold my hand.”

There was absolutely no denying it, it was him. I had seen him twice before, both times the sight of him infiltrating my brain for the rest of the day. So I knew right away, it was him. The bleach blond frosted tips spreading messily over his entire head, blending effortlessly into the darker roots underneath. The faintly flushed pale Irish skin, his face adorned with just the right amount of dark stubble across his jaw and chin. He was wearing a thin fitted woolen grey jumper that stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders and was tucked in around his slim waist. The way he walked, oh god, the way he walked right in through the door of the pub, head held high with a narrowed stare and a smug grin pressing on his thin lips, it was like he owned the place.

Hell, maybe he did.

I stood at the end of the bar as I heard the bell of the door ring out as it opened, quietly counting my nightly tips at the till when they filed in. I say they because not only did I watch the mysterious blondie strut in through the pub door when it was damn near closing time, but so did about four of his friends, all trailing unmindfully loud behind him. Peeking out of the corner of my eyes as they found a table towards the center of the small pub, I watched as they noisily yanked out the stools and hastily plopped down, slamming their hands to the overworn wooden table top.

“Could’ya get that?”

Breaking my train of thought, my stare shot over to my co-worker Aoife, as she moved about next to me, shuffling pint glasses and empty beer bottles around behind the bar. “Got me own two tables to tend to. You can handle those lads, yeah?”

She nodded towards the table where the guys had sat down, my eyes following and focusing to the far right end where the blond haired one was sat. He was leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the edge of the table, hands clasped together in front of his chin. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I mumbled out to her, not even realizing she had already walked away. Pressing my lips in a line, I stuffed my measly tip earnings back into one of the pockets of my tiny black barmaid apron and brushed my clammy hands across the front.

I cleared my throat and swiveled on my heels, bracing myself as I began to walk over towards their table. I was met with ogling stares as I stepped up to them, a knot forming in my stomach as I immediately knew these were not your average lads out on the town. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but his friends gave me a feeling that I couldn’t shake; an uneasy feeling.  

Figuring I still needed to do my job, I slotted myself between a red haired guy and blondie, who was sat just to my right. Keeping my head down, I pursed my lips together and struggled to keep myself from flicking my eyes over to him. “Hi,” I spit out, my voice quite low, “what can I get you?”

“And who might you be?” the red haired guy asked, sitting back in his chair to stare up at me.

“I’m your waitress,” I told him, quickly glancing over at blondie whose blue eyes were focused heavy on me, his lightly bearded jaw cocked over to the side as he moved a hand down to rest at his thigh.

“No, Aoife’s our waitress,” reddy quipped, my mouth parting slightly at his bluntness. I watched as his eyes fawned down over my backside. “But ya got a nice arse on ya, reckon you’ll do just fine.”

Licking across my lips, I sucked in a deep breath and slipped my hand into my apron pocket to pull out a few small napkins and tossed them to the table. “Aoife is busy, so I will be taking care of ya’ll tonight.”

“Love ya t’ take care of me cock, alright,” a dark haired boy called out to me, eliciting a rouse of laughter and a celebratory high five from his friends.

I gnawed at the inside of my cheek, my stare staying down. “Um, w-what can I get you then?” I stammered, my voice cracking slightly.

“I know exactly what ya can get me,” a shaggy haired guy from the other side of the table piped up, making me look over at him, “But it ain’t nothin’ up at that bar, baby.”

A jagged breath caught thick in my throat as I felt the brush of a hand over the curve of my bum, my stare flicking down and brows knitting at reddy beside me. “Don’t think you’d be able help us with that do ya?” he asked, quirking a brow at me.

Shuffling away from him a bit, I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Fortunately, seeing as this is a pub, I can only get you some drinks.”

“We’ll have a round of Kilkenny’s.”

My head whipped to my right as the sound of his bone-rattling deep voice barked out over the rest of the boys, instantly cutting them off. My eyes were immediately trapped in the hazy vortex of his vivid blues as he darted his stare with mine, his face unfazed. He dropped his arm to lay across the edge of the table. The corners of my mouth tugged up slightly in mild appreciation as I nodded my head. “Sure.”

Turning on my heels again, I blew out a heavy breath and quickly made my way back up to slip behind the bar, the sounds of his friends’ cat calling whispers still being heard as I began filling up five pint glasses. I placed the five foamy and filled to the brim pints on a tray as my stare every so often flit up to catch a glimpse of him through my lashes. Quickly averting my stare just as he had looked over at me, I picked up the tray and fumbled slightly as I struggled to balance it. Not smooth at all, Jules. I slowly began to carry the tray over to their table, trying not to focus on him as I leaned over to hand out the beers.

“Here ya go,” I muttered as I tucked the empty tray up under my arm. “Enjoy.”

“Not from around here, eh?” one of the guys spoke up before I could turn to leave, his tongue licking some foam off his lips after having taken a swig.

I peered over at him, gingerly shaking my head. “No,” I stated, reaching up to nervously run my fingers through the side of my blonde hair. “I’m, uh, I’m from Alabama.”

“Alabama?” another shouted loudly, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck ya doin’ all the way over here then?”

Biting at my bottom lip, I contemplated for a moment with telling them the truth or not before deciding that it was all quite harmless. “I’m studying over here for the semester,” I finally replied with a huff, resting a hand on my hip, “Trinity College.”

“Ah, smart an’ fuckin’ fit. Nice,” the red haired guy quipped, raising his glass to me before taking a chug.

I shot them a half smile. “Well, let me know if you need anything else,” I said politely, turning to my right and once again noticing the bright blue of his stare locked on me and the gentle quirk of his brow.

I served that gang of boys about four more rounds over the next hour, the group getting louder and more vulgar as the drinks increased. I continued with my work; clearing tables, wiping down the bar and collecting tabs all the while noticing how quiet and reserved blondie actually was. He definitely wasn’t as loud as his friends, in fact, his raspy voice barely raised over theirs again other than that very first time. He just kept himself leaned back in his chair, arm draped over the back, his eyes slowly falling heavier as the alcohol increased in his veins and rumbling out a hearty laugh every so often at the expense of one of his idiotic friends. A pack of smokes sat next to him and he didn’t go five minutes without lighting up a new one, surely having gone through almost a whole pack the entire hour they were there. I caught him glancing over at me a few times, watching intently as I bent over to clean off the nearby tables or stood behind the bar to fill up more pints. Strangely enough, it didn’t bother me so much, not as much as his friends’ unwanted attention anyway. I rather enjoyed him looking at me.  

Bringing over their tab after they had finished the last of their drinks, I placed it down on the table and watched as blondie immediately reached in his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a credit card, slapping it down without a single word spoken. I looked over at his friends, expecting some kind of monetary reimbursement or even a bit of gratitude, but they just continued guzzling down the last of their pints, laughing their faces off and paying him no mind. Maybe it was just his turn to buy.

“When’s ya shift up, love?”

The question broke my concentration on blondie’s very worn and rough looking hand that was wrapped around the bottom of his almost empty pint glass and I snapped my gaze over to see them all staring at me. “Excuse me?”

“When do ya get off work?” another spit out, leaning his upper body on the table as he tipped his head at me. I felt the full of a hand cup over the back of my hip, fingers pushing in deep.

I began to feel very uncomfortable, my mouth slowly drying up as I desperately tried to swallow back the uneasiness that was working its way up from the pit of my stomach. “I, uh, not for a little while,” I managed to squeak out, quickly grabbing the tab and the boy’s credit card off of the table.

“That’s a shame,” one of them called out to me as I stood at the till, closing out their tab. “Thought maybe you’d like t’ come home with me.”

I flicked my eyes to Aoife who was rearranging some liquor bottles behind the bar, her shoulders shrugging up in response. I let out a huff and walked back over to have the blondie sign the receipt. “Sorry,” I mumbled as I pulled out a pen that was tucked up in my hair and threw it down on the table, “I don’t fuck misogynistic assholes.”

“Whoa, easy there,” the dark haired guy said, holding up his hands. I rolled my eyes, sweeping the signed receipt off the table and shot a glare over at the blond boy before I turned to walk back over to the bar.

“Feckin’ disrespectful cunt.”

Pressing my eyes closed, I drew in a deep breath to ease the heat that had crept up to my cheeks and made sure I stayed facing away from them, their stools scratching across the wooden floor as they finally got up to leave. Scrunching up my face at the irritating sound, I brought my hand up to rub at the back of my neck, silently counting in my head until I heard the pub door close, afraid to even move until I knew they were gone. “Jesus, Aoife, how the hell do you deal with that all the time?” I breathed out to her as I joined her back behind the bar.

“Sorry, babe, I woulda taken their table but I had too many as it was,” she replied, tossing some trash into a bin under the bar. “Good practice for ya given it’s only your third day.”

I huffed out a chuckle, helping her wipe down the bar as the last few patrons began to leave for the night. “Are they always like that?” I asked a few quiet minutes later.

“That group?” she quipped, nodding towards their still uncleared table. “Yeah, pretty fuckin’ much. ‘Cept that blond fella is typically not so bad. Which is surprisin’,” she ended with a giggle.

I furrowed my brows at her, the towel in my hand stopping its circular motions against the wood. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that’s Niall Horan. He’s…he’s pretty popular, ya know, with the ladies an’ all that. You’d think he’d be the worst of the lot,” she stated, my eyes glued to her, “Charmin’ fella. Never really had a steady bird though. He’s just…well known.”

“Well known for what?”

Giving me a soft giggle, she widened her eyes. “Surely, ya know what I mean…”

I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head at her in a grin. “Yeah, you’re basically saying he’s a dick just like his friends, just…not as bad. And he’s a good lay.”

She gave a smile. “I don’t really know him that well, if I’m honest, Jules. Definitely never been invited round t’ theirs, that’s for sure.”

I rolled my eyes at her, tossing my small towel at her arm. “Shut up. It’s not like I would ever go anywhere with them.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, peering over at me through the corner of her eyes, “I saw the way you were lookin’ at Niall. He’s a good lookin’ lad, yeah?”

“I don’t know, I really wasn’t paying much attention,” I retorted in a bit of a lie as I tipped my head down and took a glance at the receipt he had signed. “Holy shit…”

“What?” Aoife set her rag down to walk over next to me as I picked up the receipt from off the bar, squinting my eyes to try and focus on the slight scratching of his hand writing.

“Does that say-…Oh my God,” I stuttered, turning my face towards her. “He gave me a €100 tip!”

Her brown eyes widened, her lips rolling into her mouth in a smirk as she backed away, stepping right back to where she was tidying up. “Maybe you weren’t payin’ him any mind, Jules, but he sure as hell was to you.”

Glancing back down at the receipt in my hand, I shook my head faintly. “That has to be a mistake,” I gently mumbled under my breath as I pushed it down into one of the pockets of my apron.

It took us both the next forty five minutes to finish cleaning up, Aoife grabbing a broom from the back to sweep the floor as I wiped off a few more tables. With my mind still trying to wrap around the whole tip situation, I finally made my way over to where they had been sitting to clean up their table full of pint glasses. Steadily trying to stack them all on one tray, I heard the small bell ring on the pub door as it slowly opened, my eyes never leaving my task as I spoke up. “Sorry, we’re closing up for the night. Pub’s closed.”

I didn’t hear any movement, the door having squeaked closed but not open back up and I let out an annoyed huff. “I’m sorry, but the bar is clos–”

My voice cut off as I flicked my stare up to the door and saw him standing right in front of it. With his heavy gaze focused on me, he held up his hand. “Don’t worry, I‘m not lookin’ for another drink,” he stated.

Standing my body up straight, I set down the glasses that were in my hand and brushed my wet palms across my apron as I stayed quiet.

“I, uh, I just came back ‘cause I wanted to apologize…for me mates,” he continued, reaching up his hand and rubbed his fingers across his jaw to the back of his neck. Tipping my head to the side, I planted my hands on my hips and curiously knitted my brows as I listened. “Their behavior was…not the best, I guess.”

I rolled my eyes in a low huff. “Yeah, you could say that.”

My eyes slowly drifted down his body as he began walking towards the table that I was standing at. “Really not a projection of me, ya know. Most the time.”

I let out an amused chuckle at his statement. “Let me guess, you’re the epitome of chivalry, right?”

“Only to the ones I like,” he charmingly quipped, his voice so deep it made my bones vibrate under my skin.

I raised my brows at his statement. “Wow, how convenient for you,” I scoffed. Licking at my lips, I kept my eyes on his, watching as he stepped around the side of the table and came to a stop right next to me. His heavy lidded eyes narrowed a bit, his hand fluffing up the back of his hair.

“I was thinkin’…while I was watchin’ ya earlier,” he began, his eyes flowing over my delicate features, “Kinda feel like I’ve seen ya before. Like, ya know…before tonight.”

I gave him a half smile, the notion of him actually remembering me sweet, and I flicked my eyes down at the still heavily covered table. “Yeah, we, um, saw each other once. A couple weeks ago. You were standing outside some skeezy pub on Nassau street.”

He pointed a finger at me, his head nodding. “That’s right. I remember you.”

“What the fuck were you doing at a pub at ten o’clock in the morning anyways?” I spit out before my stare went wide at myself, unsure as to why I would even say that.

His eyes went big in response at my question, his brows raising and causing a fan of wrinkles to spread across his forehead. “Don’t really think that’s any of your business,” he barked roughly, causing me to drop my stare at my own intruding rudeness.

The moment settled into a hushed quiet before I nervously looked back up at him, watching as his mouth parted a bit and the wet tip of his tongue slipped out to run across his pink lips. I shook my attention away as my mind began to wander. “Oh!” I blurted out, slapping my hand to the front of my apron pocket before slipping my fingers inside to pull out the receipt. “Kinda glad you came back,” I mentioned, flicking my wrist towards him to hold out the piece of paper, “I think you fucked up my tip.”

With his one hand rested at his hip, he peered down at my hand as his chest puffed out in a laugh. “No, I didn’t.”

I raised my brow to him, my stare focused on his face as I pushed it towards him. “You gave me €100.”

“Yeah?”

My face scrunched up in thought, my bottom lip tucking in between my teeth as I lowered my hand. “So…you meant to do that?”

I watched his head nod slowly, his one brow slightly raising. Feeling a strange warmness begin to fill my lower stomach, I shifted my stare away from the blinding heat of his and slipped the paper back into my pocket. “Thanks,” I softly whispered.

“So, I was wonderin’…” he began, pausing as he waited for me to give him my name.

“Jules.”

“Jules,” he repeated, biting at his lip. “Hmm…gems.”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Huh?”

He let out a booming laugh, louder than I had heard all night to be honest and his head tipped back with his mouth falling wide. “Jules,” he continued after catching his breath and meeting my stare again. “Like jewelry. Gems.”

“Oh,” I said, shaking my head at my own stupidity, “yeah, sorry, um, yeah it’s not spelled the same, but sounds like it…yeah.”

“I’m Ni–”

“Niall, I know,” I said cutting him off.

Cocking his head back in surprise, he knitted his brows. “You know me?”

“Well, yeah, doesn’t everybody?” I teased, giving him a tiny smile.

I watched his face tip down to the floor momentarily as he pulled in a breath. “Fair point. So…Jules, wonderin’ if ya wanna come to a party? Should be great fuckin’ craic.”

Shooting my stare back to his, I tucked some loose hair behind my ear. “I’m pretty busy right now, I don’t think–”

“No,” he said, chuckling out a bit and shaking his head, “not now. Next weekend. At mine.”

I sucked in a jumbled breath as I leaned over to pick up the tray full of pint glasses. “Oh, I-…I don’t know,” I stammered out, lifting the tray to my shoulder, “I’ve got a lot of studying to do and I don’t even know if I’m on the schedule to work yet or not…”

Stepping up flush to me, my breath caught thick in my throat as I shakily slid my stare from his chest up to his face. Oh Jesus, that face. I let my eyes carefully drift across him, involuntarily taking in every single perfect beautiful feature as my lungs struggled to gulp in air, begging to breathe him in. He smelled of a wicked disarrayed mix of his cologne and fresh cotton, with the slight zing of cigarettes filtering in at the end. He had this dark stubble spreading over his jaw and covering a bit of his thick freckle-spotted neck. Swallowing hard, I couldn’t help but settle my stare up at his mouth after having noticed the cute little dimple that rested in his chin. His teeth were bright, filling his half smile and I flicked my stare to watch as his hand reached up to the top of my head, my eyes fluttering as I felt the slow slide of my pen slipping out from my hair.

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes finally caught his, Niall giving me a wink before twisting his body over the span of the table to grab at one of the remaining napkins. “Gonna write down me address,” he told me as he bent over the table top and scribbled some writing down onto the white paper napkin, “Come round on Saturday, if ya like.”  

My stare wouldn’t budge from him even if I had wanted it too, my fingers gripping so ferociously tight to the hard plastic tray in my hands that my knuckles began bleeding white as I watched him stand back up. The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly and he reached out to gently slip the napkin back into the pocket of my apron, his hand going a bit deeper than needed.

The heat rose to my cheeks faster than a bolt of lightning, the slight graze of his knuckles against the front of my hip as he slowly dragged his fingers from my pocket causing a spark in my lower tummy and jolting all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. My heart thumped rampant in my chest and I was certain he could feel it, if not hear it with how fucking close he was to me. My body reacted so strongly to him, and as much as I wanted to fight back on it, try and control it, I couldn’t. Who the fuck is this guy?

Clearing my throat, I shook my locked stare off his, my mind unable to clear the thought of the dark freckles that dotted down the slope of his nose as I stumbled back a bit and quickly turned to walk back to the bar. I blew a calming breath past my rounded lips as I set down the tray before whipping back around towards him. “Gotta finish cleaning up,” I told him, my voice unsteady on my tongue.

His mouth turned down at the corners as he nodded his head. “Okay,” he said, taking my hint and giving me a short wave of his fingers. “Hope you can come, Jules. Promise me mates won’t be fuckin’ wankers this time.”

I gave him a nod, pressing my lips into a line as he turned and began walking back towards the pub door. “Gonna keep this pen as collateral, I hope ya know,” he shouted back to me, holding up the pen between his fingers before pausing and looking back at me over his shoulder. “Then ya gotta come to mine. No choice.”

I breathed out a laugh, shuffling back over to the table to finish tidying up. “Oh, I have a choice,” I argued, keeping my stare down as I swept a cloth over the rings of condensation left on the wood and reached over to push in a stool.

Giving me a chuckle, he raised his brows at me as he grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open, my eyes flicking back up to his. “Better choose wisely then, little one.”

Freezing in place, my mouth fell open and my body immediately tensed at his words. I knew he noticed my intense reaction, a smug grin slowly pulling at his lips as he tipped his head back before silently stepping out of the pub and letting the door slam closed behind him.

“Holy shit,” Aoife muttered out from behind the bar, making me whip around and give her a desperately helpless look.

Tugging my coat around my middle, I walked down the street to the bus stop after finally closing up the pub and saying goodnight to Aoife. The bus pulled up right as it began to lightly drizzle, my eyes blinking up to the darkened night sky as I stepped on. It was safer taking the bus this late at night for me, a stop was conveniently right outside my flat building which was only a few blocks away from the pub.

Settling in the middle of the practically empty bus, I stared out of the window and watched the lights of the city go by. I had to admit that I liked it in Ireland. Granted, I have only been there a few weeks, but it really was an experience like nothing I could have ever imagined. Hell, I couldn’t have even imagined being there in the first place, traveling to a whole other country just to study at uni. But I had to get out of my house. My old life. I had to leave.

The wheels of the bus screeched as we slowed down to my stop and I held tight to my bag as I quietly thanked the driver and stepped off. I kept my head down as I stumbled up the steps to the front of my building, my eyes scouring over the chipped brown bricks. It definitely wasn’t one of the best places to live, actually the building itself was pretty rundown and in need of many repairs, but for a starving college student, it worked. And it was much better than living at home. Besides, I was sharing with two flatmates, which did make it more fun. I guess.

I could hear the music blaring out from the thin walls as I made my way up the stairs to my flat, shoving my key into the door and unlocking it before walking inside. My brows furrowed as I caught sight of the two of them dancing around in the middle of the living room, a camera set up in the corner. Shaking my head, I closed the door behind me and slipped my keys back in my bag as I stepped into the kitchen to pull a bottled water out of the fridge. The two girls hadn’t even noticed that I had even come home.

“What are you guys doing?” I called out to them, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip of the water.

Both sets of eyes, one green and the other a rich dark brown, shot over to me. “Jules!” they shouted back to me in unison over the music. Neither stopped dancing, the music still pumping out over the speaker system as they twirled and jumped around. Tessa and Naomi were great girls, really they were, and I was forever thankful and extremely lucky at being able to find a cheap place to live when one of the two bedrooms of the flat became free, but I had to say…these girls were really weird.

I smiled at my thoughts as I quietly slipped past them, trying my hardest to avoid being seen in the background of whatever video they were recording while making my way back to my bedroom. Closing the door, I tossed my bag onto my desk and slipped off my jacket and shoes, changing into a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt. I stood in front of my mirror and let my hair down, shaking my head a bit before running a brush through it. Pulling a chunk over from the side up under my nose, I scrunched my face up in detest at the lingering smell of smoke that quickly intruded my nose. I knew I should probably take a shower, but I was just too damn tired at that point.

Putting my hair back into a loose braid, I grabbed my phone out of my bag, bringing it over to the nightstand to plug it in before I hopped into my bed and snuggled up under the covers. No sooner had I tucked the blankets up under my chin did he flash through my head. Again. I swear I just couldn’t fight it. The way he smelled, the heat I could feel penetrating right through his thin jumper and sink into every pore of my skin. The way he smirked at me. His cocky words, his gravelly voice. His touch.

My eyes fluttered closed as my senses filled with the thoughts of him, my mind trying to block out the loud music coming from the lounge as my fingers pulled my duvet tighter around me, my legs pressing together underneath as the tingles begged to ripple over my body. Oh my God. I nearly jumped out of my skin as I heard my cell phone ring out loud right next to me, my eyes popping open and flicking over to the nightstand.

Letting out a sigh, I reached over and grabbed at my phone, pushing myself to sit up in my bed. I gently rolled my lips into my mouth as my eyes slipped closed. Clicking the answer button, the fingers of my other hand mindlessly pulling at a random string that stuck out from my blanket as I lifted the phone to my ear.

Taking in a solid calming breath, my head slowly tipped down as I forced myself to speak. “Hey, Jason.”