#let me dream of liam warming up to airy please

[charactooling]

they are having therapy

[resetmypatientviolence]

Fight (Drake x MC x Liam)

Fight– Part 8 of “Supposed To Be”

Part 1: Not Yet Part 2: Wait Part 3: Confused Part 4: Didn’t (NSFW) Part 5: I’m Pregnant Part 6: Choice (NSFW) Part 7: Future (NSFW)

Word count: 5,377 (oops) Pairing: Drake x Jaela x Liam

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Language; Angst Town

Summary: The pregnancy isn’t quite under wraps as Jaela hoped. With Hana and Olivia in the know, how much longer until everybody but the one person who should know, Liam, does? Can she keep the secret at bay until the morning after the Homecoming Ball? Hell, can she even survive the night, lost in her world of deceit and guilt?

Suggested Song Accompaniment: Sorry-- Halsey

Notes: I’m blown away by the support for this series. I didn’t expect my little concern about PB not mentioning birth control would turn into... this. Incredible. Just thank you SO much for joining me on this wild ride of emotion. Apologies for the length-- I might have gotten carried away, but I don’t think you’ll mind.

Tag List: @boneandfur, @mariawalkerwrites, @ninamckenzie22, @hhiggs, @drakesfiance, @pbchoicesobsessed, @umccall71, @mrswalkerreynolds, @youwontlikewherewewillgo, @mfackenthal, @zarina-x-zig (I think that’s all, feel free to remind me or ask to be added!)

“I’m not so sure about that one…”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, holding the green dress up for Jaela. It was beautiful, no doubt, but would have left nothing to the imagination with its jewels and slits, fitting every curve too perfectly. “You’re never one to turn away a dress, Jaela.” She went to put it away, then paused. “You sure you don’t want to try it on?”

 Jaela sucked in a breath. Partly to fight back the nausea, back again after her… meeting with Liam. It couldn’t be just from the baby, no matter how good she felt in the moment with him. Olivia raised her famed brow, green eyes piercing through her, like she was reading everything running through her mind.

 Hell, as far as Jaela knew, that’s exactly what Olivia was doing. If you want to pretend everything is okay and not have people wonder what’s wrong, then act natural. Just until you tell Liam. Then you can fall apart.

 Jaela grabbed the dress, staring Olivia down, too. Friendly, but hopefully enough to stop her prying gaze. “I’m not sure green is my color… but I’ll try. Hana?”

 Stepping out of the racks, Hana smiles, two dresses over her arms. “I’ll help you, Jaela.”

 “I’m finding a second one for you, since you have such an aversion to good taste, suddenly.” Jaela chuckled, stiffly. Olivia shot a final glance before disappearing into the rows of dresses.

 Soft music played in the palace’s boutique. It used to calm her, her hands running over fabrics of a dresses she couldn’t even dream about a year ago, but today it unnerved her. The calm before the storm. Though on edge, Jaela knew one thing that should calm her: Hana. Her best friend, always with the right words and comfort to make things better through all the hell she was put through. Hana, the first person she almost told. The person she should have told so long ago.

 They slipped through the curtains of the dressing room together. Jaela turned her back, undoing her jeans as Hana easily slipped out of her dress and into the silver one. Beautiful, as always. “Zip me?” she asked, turning. Jaela put back down her shirt and zipped Hana up, easily, and as they always did.

 “How’d you get so fast at that? Wait, don’t answer—I want to keep some mystery about your secret ninja skills.” Jeala smoothed the sides of Hana’s dress. Their brown eyes met in the mirror, an amused smile on Hana’s lips.

 “That’s the one thing I don’t know, I’m afraid.”

 “But wouldn’t a ninja say that?” Turning away from her again, Jaela carefully took off her top while Hana chuckled, her floral and vanilla scent filling the space. Not… bad. But not… her stomach rolled and she paused, hand with the shirt over her mouth. “Sushi,” she said a second later, dropping the shirt and sliding the dress over her body. It was quite snug on her, already. It still needed to be zipped.

 “Oh… still? That’s a long time, Jaela.”

 Adjusting the straps on her shoulders, she nodded. “Yeah. Weird, right?” Her voice came out hallow and stiff, face warming as she lied.

 “Zip me? I have to at least prove to her why green isn’t my color.” The hint of dread failed to masked and Hana’s silence confirmed that she heard it too. Normally, they couldn’t stop talking in these moments between, just the two of them, far removed from everything about the court and the men that surrounded them. Just… Hana and Jaela, best friends, alone and free to be the women they are.

 This time, the tension in the air was thick. If they didn’t talk, Hana usually hummed while helping Jaela. Not now though. Sucking in a breath and pressing in her stomach with her hand, Hana zipped higher, slowing down as she reach the top, the dress definitely too tight. She paused, her fingers still on the zipper before she let go. “Done,” she said, brushing Jaela’s hair off her shoulder. “It seems a little bit tight.”

 “Hm, no, not at all,” she lied and slowly turned around dropping her hand to face the mirror. At least her chest looked great. Hana’s eyes never left hers in the mirror, sharp but concerned, worry creased on the corners.

 “It zipped okay, but not it like it’s supposed to be, Jaela. I…” Hana moved closer, touching her arm. “I can find you another one, if you want.”

 Jaela bit her lip, wringing her hands together. “I… I guess it is a bit tight. Too much fun on tour, right?”

Hana wrapped an around her waist, her expression—usually so pleasant and airy—serious. “I’ve never gotten your size wrong Jaela. Ever.”

 She gulped, covering her mouth. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

 “Yeah,” Hana whispered, stepping in front of her, locking eyes and lowering her voice. “But the fact that you have a bump does. You’re pregnant.” Jaela shook her head and Hana sighed, resting her forehead on Jaela’s.  “Please, Jaela, don’t lie. You can tell me anything. It’s okay. I promise. It’s going to be—”

 “It’s not,” Jaela hissed, silent tears escaping. She shook head to toe, her chest tight and breaths short, stepping away from Hana, head in hands.

 “Talk to me then,” Hana urged. “Please Jaela, I’m here for you. You can trust me.”

 Tear tracks raced down her face and she wrapped her arms around herself, the panic and anxiety crashing down in one swoop. She lowered herself to the ground, Hana following and wrapping her arms around her as she tried to breath, everything from the past three days racing through her mind in an overwhelming rush, crashing down and swirling without relent.

 “Hana… I-I… does everybody in the whole court know? Do they think? Do they—”

 “Oh, no Jaela,” Hana whispered, grasping her shaking hands. “I only noticed because I’ve been with you for so long and for you to change like that, so fast, along with everything else,” she paused, squeezing her hands. Jaela stared at their clasped hands. “Plus�� Maxwell… hinted that something was up with you. He didn’t say it, but said I should check on you.”

 She frowned, stomach dropping. “How… how obvious am I being?”

 “Not subtle enough to us. Does the father…” The unfinished question lingering in the air. They eyes, Jaela’s heart nearly beating out of her chest.

 “No. It’s… it’s Liam’s.”

 “So… the heir. And Drake…”

 “Knows. He… says we can’t be anything until I tell Liam. He also thinks… he think I’ll run into Liam’s arms the moment he knows I’m pregnant. He doesn’t want me to break his heart anymore than I already have.” Jaela voice was barely above a whisper. Hana nodded, then gingerly, touched her stomach. Jaela jumped in surprise—she was the first one to do so with the knowledge of the baby—but then relaxed, slowly, even as her hands trembled and her breathing was still uneven, the panic ever present and refusing to budge.

 “He’s right. You… you do need to let him know and soon.”

 Hana wouldn’t judge, would she? Not that she confided with her about her times with Drake, passionate and secret, tucked away from the world—completely lost with each other, throwing away the notions of court and nobles out the door every time they talked or touched in those private moments. But Hana knew. Had to know, the keeper of her unspoken secrets.

 Jaela sniffed. “I tried… before I came here. I wanted to tell him.” Her mouth was dry. “But instead… I saw a future with him… and we kissed.” And more. “Again. I… I love them both, Hana. I really do.”

 “Oh, Jaela. That… that’s not a problem, you—”

 “Drake doesn’t want to share.” Slowly, Jaela stood, Hana helping her up. The tears were dried but the overwhelming pressure, the shaking, the breakdown, the point where she was about to snap like a twig, remained. Carefully, Hana began to unzip the dress, the tightness disappearing, only a minimal relief. “I don’t think I want to, either. How can I give myself completely to two people at once?” She bowed her head and laughed, harsh. “I guess I really am the court whore, huh? There was no point to proving myself innocent, after all. Should have just… stayed away when they tried to kick me out of Cordonia. Everybody would be better off.”

 “What? No! Jaela, you can’t—”

 “But I’m not wrong, am I though?” Though no tears came, deep-seated anger for herself that simmered and built over the past few days rose to the surface, breaking free. This was all her fault. She hit the mirror, hand curled into a fist as she stared and spoke, everything slipping out in a whisper, louder by the second.

 “I was supposed to win Liam’s hand, fall in love with only him, become Queen, and save House Beaumont. Maxwell’s foolproof plan. But what do I do instead? I fall for his best friend, too. His best friend, who didn’t want to fall in love with me but I didn’t give him the option. I pursued him until he… he couldn’t say no anymore. But what do I do in the meanwhile? Still see Liam and then think that, somehow, I can have sex with him without consequence. Neither of us even thought about precaution. It was never discussed.”

 “You were in the—”

 “There’s no in the moment when you’re not planning to have a kid or a mistress, Hana. So now, we’re here. I turn him down, only to find out a day later I’m pregnant with his kid, for god knows how long, and suddenly, I regret everything I’ve done and Drake…” She stopped, his name frozen on her lips.

 His face reflecting behind her shining eyes. The hurt in the passage when she uttered the words, I’m pregnant. It’s Liam’s. In the bedroom, telling her he can’t let her break him anymore. The disappointment in the hallway. Everything she did to hurt him, returning late to her cabin time after time with Liam, catching his glance from the down the hall before he adverted it. When he’d kiss her hard and desperate and a little whiskey drunk after she came back, pausing because they both knew she smelled like him.

“I’m going to hurt somebody, Hana. I don’t want to hurt anybody, anymore. They…” Her hand slid down the mirror leaving streaks. “They don’t deserve me. None of them do.” Touching her stomach, she turned to face Hana, holding a pink dress. “This baby doesn’t deserve me. I… I can’t believe I didn’t realize this sooner. I…”

 A ruffle of the curtain and Olivia entered, staring coolly at her. Hana’s eyes widened at her entrance. Jaela’s blood ran cold. “Uh… I can explain—”

 Slowly, Olivia hung up a gold gown, silence palpable. “Oh, you just did. So,” she said. “You say you don’t want anybody to know, but have a panic attack in a public place. If you’re going to be a noble, you’ve got to learn how have your self-deprecating panic attacks in private, Jaela.”

 “Olivia,” Hana warned.

 “What? Come on, Jaela, try this one on. Green’s not your color, gold is.”

 Nobody moved until Olivia rolled her eyes and tugged Jaela close to her across the space. “You…”

 “I’ll confess I didn’t know until you started speaking—and you’re lucky nobody else is here—” Jaela slowly shed the green dress and Olivia helped her with the gold ballgown. It was fitted, but the sheer size of the skirt should distract everybody from the bump. “And I won’t tell.”

 “Thank you,” Jaela murmured. Olivia began to button the back, her eyes darting between Hana and Jaela. “But I thought…”

 “I don’t hate you, Jaela. I thought we were long past that.” She pursed her lips. “But I do feel kind of sorry. I mean, you’re not 100% wrong in your assessment of yourself—”

 “Olivia! This isn’t the time—”

 “Shh, Hana, let me indulge the self-hatred she wants right now, okay?” Hana shook her head and squeezed Jaela’s hand. “I mean, to be frank, what did you expect would happen if you have sex with Liam and don’t do anything to prevent pregnancy? You’re just lucky you found out after he got rid of that she-devil. It… it wouldn’t have been pretty.” A note of emotion, of care, slipped in her voice.

 Olivia buttoned the last button and smoothed out the back and shoulders. “Hm, you can’t even tell in this. You look like normal, non-pregnant I’m in love with two men and only want one, Jaela.”

 Hana twisted her face but said nothing when Olivia glared at her. Jaela remained still, staring in the mirror. It was beautiful. She looked liked a Duchess. Like she… belonged. Yet, she didn’t deserve it—or anything. Not even Olivia’s silence on the matter. “Listen. You know I care about Liam…”

“It’s the only person you do care about,” Jaela whispered, turning to face Olivia, the woman who could have broken her trust, her privacy—but wasn’t going to.

 “True,” she said, crossing her arms. Stepping closer to Jaela, the cold, sharp look she wore softened. “I don’t care who you pick, if you even pick between them. All I know is that it’s not fair to hide this from Liam. He… he’ll be a great father, Jaela. I know you know it. He’s strong, but his weakness is you. You can’t keep stringing him along. It’ll kill him before it kills you, no matter if you think you’re the worst person on this Earth. He’ll move heaven and earth for you… and you’re too scared to tell him you’re pregnant with his kid. He’s the best person to tell this to.”

 “You understand why I can’t—haven’t yet—right?”

 Olivia shook her head, frowning. “No. I can’t.”

 “Wha—”

 “You should have told him the moment you suspected. Now, what, four people know who can’t help you figure this out or help you make up your mind if you actually want a future with him or not. If anybody else finds out, slip up, or you wait even longer, then the entire court knows and suddenly you’re either forced to be Queen or exactly back to where you were, the whore of the Cordonian court.”

 Hana stomped her foot. “Oli—”

 “Hana!” Olivia snapped, pointing her finger. A flush crept to her cheeks. Never before had Jaela seen such emotion from her except for the Coronation. She rubbed her arms. “I’m telling her to truth, something that all three of you clearly failed to do in your attempts at support when right now, she’s begging for direction. Any direction. Right?” Attention back to her, she nodded.

 “Thought so,” Olivia sighed and rubbed her temples. “Listen. I can’t tell you what the hell to do. You got yourself into a shitty situation, but only you can fix it. You need to fix it, and fast.”

 “But how—”

 Tentatively, Olivia touched her arm, never breaking her gaze. “You need to ask yourself why you’ve told everybody but him, and then maybe you’ll figure out how.”

 Her eyebrows raised and she lowered her arms, gripping the skirt of the gold. “I—”

 “You don’t need an answer now. However, you do need one soon. The truth will set you free… and then you won’t risk Liam hearing about this from the wrong person.” With that, Olivia left, the curtains shutting behind her. Slowly, Jaela stepped forward.

 Hana linked her arm with hers. “Are you okay?” she whispered as they entered the main area. “That was a little harsh.”

 “No,” Jaela whispered. “Olivia’s right.”

 Hana smiled sadly. “I’m going to support you no matter what, like you do for me. You know that, right?”

 “I know,” Jaela sighed. “I just wish I let you know you sooner. Then maybe…”

 “You did what you felt was best. Right now, all I can do is stand by your side.”

 Jaela kissed her cheek, grateful for her love and support, but Olivia’s question haunted in the back of her mind as they walked. You need to ask yourself why you’ve told everybody but him, and then maybe you’ll figure out how.

 She didn’t know the answer. Right?

 Or did she just not want to face it?

The door loomed. Jaela stared, frozen in place in her room. The ball was beginning. Everything was done, hair, make-up, nails—she looked just like a real Duchess. This was real. The day had been a blur, Hana barely leaving her side. Even when Hana was doing her hair and make-up, having to pause so she could have her late afternoon vomit spells. She even tried to get her to eat something, claiming that she could see her shaking and that she may not know what’s going to happen with the baby, but she needed to eat for it.

 Reluctantly, Jaela did eat, the soup and few crackers brought to her room stayed down, the rest didn’t. She hadn’t even felt that hungry during her worry and stress and morning sickness, but maybe she was a little less tired after she ate. Or maybe that was the nerves, building the longer she didn’t see Drake or Liam.

 “Just keep it together Jaela,” she whispered to herself, turning away and looking outside to the grounds, lit with lights and nobles already milling about. After all, second to Liam, she was the star of the show tonight. Her introduction as the newest Duchess of Cordonia, an American Cinderella Story, was not to be missed by anybody who was anybody. “Ugh.”

 She rested one hand on the wall, the other on her abdomen. The night of all nights. The calm before the storm. Then in the morning… decisions. Big ones. Enough was enough. It was time to pick herself up, smile like she didn’t hate herself or what she was doing to the two people she loved the most, and to plant herself back into reality and out of ignorance for night and days to come.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at her hand. “Sorry to all three of you. None of you deserve me. I’m so, so sorry.” Her fingers lingered on her body as she drew her hand away and sucked in a breath, turning and going out the doors and hoping the nausea would remain at bay, just for tonight.

 Out the door… and nearly stumbling into Savannah and Bartie. “Oh! Sorry!” Jaela exclaimed, steadying herself. Savannah chuckled, adjusting Bartie on her hip.

 “No worries, Jaela. Just glad to see you.”

 “Nice to have you back!”

 Bertrand was off in the distance, meeting Jaela’s eyes then slinking off down the hall. “Jaela!” Maxwell scooped her into a big hug.

 “Oh hey, Maxwell.” She returned it. “I just saw you this morning. You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in weeks.”

 He broke it, smiling, but his eyes held the worry he did this morning. “It’s been a long day.”

 “Yeah, I’ve just been waiting for them to break out the expensive stuff.” Her heart skipped a beat. Drake. He gave Savannah a hug and ruffled Bartie’s hair, albeit awkwardly. He didn’t meet Jaela’s eyes, not at first. Then, he did, looking her up and down. A small smile was there despite the worry and intensity he had in his look. She offered one back but he wasn’t looking her anymore, talking to Maxwell.

 Savannah turned to her. “It’s nice to be back, to see everybody, to see Drake. I missed him the most.” Bartie gripped her hair and she winced, adjusting him on her hip. “I’m glad you helped me out, Jaela. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

 Jaela smiled. “Well… it was the right thing. I… I know he’d excited to have you and Bartie back home.”

 “I know. I’m also excited to get to know you more…” Savannah raised an eyebrow and leaned in. “After all, I hear you  and my brother are an item.”

 Gulping, Jaela glanced at Drake, who stole one to her, his cheeks reddening. “No comment,” Jaela managed. “Well, I better be heading down, I’m sure the King would want me to mingle with some nobles… sooooo….”

 She left, quickly making her way outside. Maybe the talking—and not talking about her relationship status—would make things easier.

 Before long, out on the grounds, Jaela attempted to keep her composure as she did on tour, the American that charmed her way into the hearts of Cordonians. She even held a champagne glass for effect, laughing politely at their lame jokes, trying to remember names, smiling her fake smile reserved for the press, and mingled with relative ease. Only twice she stopped mid-conversation to make sure she wasn’t about to puke on the duke standing before her, their eyebrow raised in curiosity.

 The champagne glass, strategically spilt here and there, was empty by toast time. “Wait, shit,” Maxwell muttered both him and Jaela looking to Bertrand. “A toast?! Bertrand, you forgot to tell us?”

 He paled, adjusting his collar as the first of the nobles began toasting to Liam, who shot glances at her all night, even as he was being honored. Jaela felt hot with every look. “Uh… I might have forgotten—”

 “Might? Ugh.”

 “Just… ah… we’ll figure it out.” A champagne flute was handed to her and Jaela took it from the redhead with a strained smile.

 “I am the goddamn backbone of this family, you both know that, right?” Jaela hissed, glaring at the both of them. They didn’t protest. Too soon the toast came to House Beaumont and Bertrand fumbled his way through the toast clearly meant for Savannah. Jaela grit her teeth but put on a smile for the finishing line, “To King and to country!”

 They toasted amidst light applause, only letting the champagne hit her lips. Liam smiled, their eyes locked until she removed the glass, her fake sip over. “Excuse me,” she murmured, getting away from the crowded dance floor, flush again. Goddamn it Liam.

 Faces passed by in a blur, Jaela just trying to make her way through the crowd. To who? Her feet knew. Her mind didn’t.

 “Ah. Jaela Abdi, the woman I owe to my undoing. How nice to see you again. I was hoping we wouldn’t run into each other.” She froze, Madeleine’s voice right behind her. Her stomach dropped and she turned, slowly, eyes narrowed.

 “Then let me pass on by.”

 “Then what’s the fun in that?” Madeleine’s cheeks were pink and she stood with a hip popped, so unlike her usual composed self. Jaela shook her head.

 “Nice to see you back at court. Now, if I may…”

 “Hmpf. You sure you don’t want to talk to me?”

 “Yes.”

 “Sad, really. I figured you could use some girl time, you know. Just to… talk about things. Secrets.” She swirled her glass and sipped, her calculating gaze sharp on her.

 Her stomach dropped, Jaela’s façade of not caring about Madeleine dropping instantly. Jaela stepped closer and Madeleine smirked. No, no, no. “The only secret was our little arrangement and that’s been long over.”

 “Yes, it has. Hasn’t it? Nevertheless, I’m not referring to that. Besides, it’s common practice. Nobody would care. Say, do you like my dress?” She posed, smirk growing. Jaela’s eyes widened and she stepped back. The green dress from the boutique, fitting her perfectly. “I guess it didn’t fit you or something like that. It’s curious, because I thought it was your size.”

 There was no mistaking Madeleine’s focus, looking right at her stomach. “I didn’t like how it looked on me. Green’s not my color.”

 “Really? Regina was saying you seemed a little green yesterday. How strange,” she snickered.

 “You’re drunk.” The world spun, the only thing in focus was Madeleine and her knowing smirk.

 “I’d say the same for you because you’re looking a little woozy but you’ve been sneaky with dumping that perfectly good champagne out. My mother would be appalled.” Madeleine stepped closer, eyes narrowed. Jaela couldn’t move. “I guess the best part, really the only part that makes me so happy, is that I have no idea who the father is. You go through all of that work to clear your name, your reputation, when really, they were right all long to call you the court w—”

 “You’re drunk as hell, Madeleine. Leave Abdi alone. I’d offer to call you a cab, but I don’t think you’ll like where I’ll send you.” Drake wrapped an arm around her waist and relief washed through her, though the dread of Madeleine’s  accurate assumption was worrying enough. Jaela pressed herself tight to Drake, heart fluttering, and narrowed her eyes again, bringing back the mask.

 Madeleine rolled her eyes. “Hmm… even I have to admit that the kid would be cute. But so would Li—”

 “Do you really want to embarrass yourself more as the Countess who failed at becoming Queen twice because your fiancées both couldn’t stand your presence?” Drake snapped, his grip on her tightening. “Don’t spread lies about Cordonia’s newest Duchess. We both know who the media will favor. Come on, Abdi. Let’s get you something stronger.”

 Drake turned, leading her back to crowd of people and to the bar, the toast done. She set the glass on it, hand on her forehead. Drake poured himself another whiskey, watching her carefully as she gathered her breath, her head a mess. “Do you think…”

 “She won’t,” he muttered. “Nobody will take her seriously.”

 “Except Liam.”

 Drake pursed his lips. Jaela knew what he wanted to say, Well, if you told him…. But, he only raised the bottle to her. “You want anything or…”

 “No.” She twirled the full glass, frowning.

 He set it down, sipping his own. “So does that mean you’re—”

 “Lady Jaela, you look… stunning,” Liam’s voice came from behind. Drake’s eyes flashed and narrowed before she turned to look at him. His eyes shone, never looking behind her where Drake stood.

 “King Liam, it’s nice to see you again,” she replied, unable to help the smile—a real one—that appeared. Liam’s eyes shone and he stepped closer, a hand on her waist.

 “The very same to you.” He leaned in, other hand touching her hand. “I do believe we have more to finish from our conversation this morning.” Jaela blushed and Drake coughed, walking from behind the bar, cheeks and ears red—not from the whiskey. Jaela knew that for a fact.

 “Dr—” How could she be so excited and confused and hurt at the very same time? Because you’re pregnant.

 “Would you like to dance? The Cordonian Waltz is about to begin. I think they’ll love the King and newest Duchess to put on a show.” He held out his hand. Wordlessly, Jaela took it and that tingle like back in his office raced through her.

 He led the way, the nobles parting as the music began, partners filling the floor. Liam and Jaela took the center of the floor in the tent and began, dancing to the music without a missed beat—as if she never strayed. For the first half of the song, they danced without a word, just touches, never looking away from each other, his gaze burning into her very core, blue eyes bright with possibility.

 He pulled her close, holding her tighter halfway through. Jaela raised an eyebrow. “I know this is romantic… but Liam, isn’t this a little too risqué, even for the Cordonian Waltz?”

 “Hmm. Maybe.” His grip, tighter, eyes darkening. Heat pooled in her abdomen at that look. The memory of the office and the hedge maze floated on the edge of memory. His touch. His kisses. His whispers. “But I don’t care if they look. Let them stare.”

 That’s when she saw him. His stare. Drake, off to the side, sipping whiskey and pure fire cutting straight through her. Her smile fell as she met his eyes, his free hand into a tight fist, eyes looking at every place Liam’s hands touched. She tried to look back into Liam’s eyes, but couldn’t help but glance to Drake every few seconds, music picking up, still there and making her body tremble and yearn—no, desperate-- for his hard touch at the same time.  Drake downed his drink right before Liam captured her lips with his, tugging on her lower lip when they parted after a few seconds, spinning out to the beat. Drake stared, dropping his glass.

 Her stomach flipped. Oh no. Jaela stopped moving, Liam nearly tripping over her. Her eyes were round. “Jaela, what’s wrong?”

 “I… the sushi.  I’ve—”

 “Wait, still? How—” She didn’t have time to process his perplexed look, maybe mixed with understanding but she couldn’t even tell herself why she was scared to tell Liam about the pregnancy yet, so she didn’t know how to read anything or anybody.

 She needed air. And privacy, Drake’s look of betrayal so clear in her mind, worse than the pregnancy news. Just… he saw the kiss. The passion. The reality of her feelings, out in the open. Liam’s carelessness towards his own. How easy would it be to go back into Liam’s arm, just like nothing happened. Like he never mattered. Like he was never in the running for her love.

 Finally, she reached the grass away from the tents and people, a quiet part of the grounds, sucking in cool air as fast as she could, resisting throwing up, again. Up above, the stars twinkling, the new moon making the sky dark.

 “Fuck!” she shouted, voice lost to the sounds of the party, her hands in fists.

 “That’s what I said when I saw you and Liam. What the hell was that display? I thought you were confused, not ready to fuck him, Jaela.”

 Drake slipped out from behind trees, swiftly approaching her. “What the hell?” Jaela’s eyes flashed in anger, hands in fists and she stomped towards him. “You’re the one who said there was no us!”

 They met halfway, his nostrils flared and face twisted in hurt and anger. “That doesn’t mean you run into his arms and pretend I don’t exist. I thought I would have at least until you told him. Not not tell him then leave me for him. I didn’t fucking expect that,” he said, voice harsh and raw with emotion—but it didn’t phase Jaela’s exterior, even as it tore her from the inside at his pain—pain she couldn’t see past her anger and utter confusion at who to love.

 Jaela snorted. “You gave up on me the moment I said it. You’ve been pushing me away because you think you’re not worthy of me. This just confirms it for you, right? Liam always having the upper hand, like you never had a chance even thought I said no. You’re not fighting. You’re giving up and Liam—”

 Without hesitation, he pulled her close, grip tighter than ever before, and kissed her, hard, taking her breath away. “I don’t want to talk about Liam. I want to talk about us,” he said, gruff once they separated, her lips aching for more despite the layer of anger she still felt.

 “Ha. Funny. Is this going to be like the last time? When you tell me that there can’t be an us because I’m pregnant with a child I might not even want?”

 “No,” Drake growled, hand winding into her hair. “I’m going to fight for you, Abdi. I’m not giving up. I’m not going down without a fight. I’m going to make it fair. Then, if you don’t want me, fine. But I’m not going to die until I try to be the man you picked first.” He kissed her, and Jaela kissed back, harder.

 “So,” Drake said, once the kiss ended, their breathing uneven. “Do you still want me to fight for you?”

 Jaela gripped his collar, her eyes darkening, every inch of her burning. “With everything you’ve got.”

 “Follow me.”

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