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nadvs · 10 months ago

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cam girl (part ten)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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Rafe is on your mind constantly. At this point, you’ve accepted it. There was something about the way he looked at you in his car last night. Possibly. Hopefully.

You stand in a quiet aisle, eyeing merchandise while you hold the charm on the necklace he gave you, the metal warm under your fingertips.

You’d never been in a sex shop before. The guys you hooked up with before Rafe were nowhere near as kinky as him and you bought all the stuff you needed to be a cam girl online.

But seeing all the possibilities makes your stomach twist with excitement. You want to try absolutely everything with Rafe.

You’ve been thinking about coming here throughout all your classes today with one thing in mind. Rafe loves to use toys on you, but you’ve never used anything on him.

With Rafe’s need for control, you assume he won’t be all that open to using a cock ring, but you want to do something special for him. Maybe you can introduce him to something for a change.

You find a vibrating ring that you know will fit him, then decide to send him a photo of the toys in the aisle behind you and text him: this is a great place to meet guys.

Before you’re even at the register, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: dont joke like that

Rafe: buying something for yourself princess?

He sends you $100.

You reply: something like that :)

You check out at the register and head home, already looking forward to tonight. Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: when can i come over?

You smile at your phone.

You: what about our cam session?

You get a notification that he sent $1000. The alert makes you wonder if he thinks you’re just doing all this solely for the money and gifts.

You’d do it all for free.

Rafe: i won’t wait that long

Not just can’t. He won’t.

You reply: like 8ish?

Rafe: ok

It starts to rain close to 8 and when Rafe arrives at your place, his hair is wet and his face and jacket are peppered with raindrops.

“Is the valet not working today?” you joke, knowing full well he had to find street parking on your busy road.

He breathes a chuckle, stepping into your apartment with his usual ease. You’ve noticed that he walks into every room like he owns it.

Rafe shakes off his jacket and places it on the back of one of your kitchen table chairs while you grab a clean hand towel out of your hamper.

“Sorry this towel’s not a million thread count,” you tease, meeting him to dab the towel over his face.

His blue eyes search your face with a hint of something new. Confusion?

You realize you didn’t even think about it; you thoughtlessly started to dry him off. It was such a mechanical response. Your impulse is to take care of him, make him comfortable.

It’s official. This man is not just a fuck buddy to you anymore.

“What?” you ask, knowing you need to crack a joke to break the tension. “I’m just drying off my seat.”

“Oh, my God,” Rafe groans, trying to act annoyed, but you know he’s not. You laugh and lower the towel, squeezing the cotton in your hands.

“What’d you buy?” he asks, clearly eager.

“I’ll show you later. I wanna hear what you have planned,” you say. “You always have something planned.”

“You first,” he says.

“Rafe,” you whine, dropping the towel to rest your hands on his firm shoulders. “Can’t I surprise you for once? What do you want to do to me tonight?”

“I wanna see what you bought,” Rafe solidifies.

You suck your teeth in frustration, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Please?” you breathe. “I’m always the one waiting. Why don’t you wait for once?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens and he shakes his head in disbelief like he can’t believe he’s giving in, but he gives in.

“You ever been tied up?” he finally asks, his voice so deep that it reverberates through you. The air is suddenly thick and any impression of humor that was floating between you has been dismissed by his words.

“Like… bondage?” you say in a short breath, mulling it over as blood rushes to your cheeks. “No. I haven’t.”

He closes the already minuscule distance between you, cradling your jaw in his cool hand.

“I want your hands tied up while I fuck you,” he says. Your mouth goes dry. Just when you think he can’t get any fucking hotter.

Rafe’s hand drops and you hear his belt unbuckling while his hot breath spreads across your cheek.

“Why the fuck are you still dressed?” he rasps. You’re reeling as you strip down to nothing but the necklace he gave you. You hear the clang of his belt buckle falling onto your kitchen table beside you.

Rafe’s hands drag over your hips, pinching down when he turns you to face the other way. He’s still in his boxers, his cock jabbing against your ass. His warm chest is pressed on your back, rising and falling.

“You’re always the one waiting?” he mutters. The belt buckle drags off the table top, and when you feel him roughly grab both your wrists and wrap the thick leather around them, the familiar need for him between your legs aches.

“You’re always waiting,” he repeats with a scoff. “I’m the one who’s always fucking waiting.”

You want to know what he means, but the belt is suddenly tight around your wrists, your chest jutting out. Rafe pushes you by the back of your neck so that your front is down on your table, your cheek flush against the hard plastic.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

The muscles in your thighs are strained and your hips burn against the hard table from the way he has you bent over. He couldn’t even spare the few seconds to go to your bedroom.

You feel his tip press against you, making you wonder which hole he wants to fuck.

“Beg for it,” he orders. His fingers tighten around the back of your neck. Your arms are already burning from being bound like this.

“Please fuck me,” you moan, lips flanged from how hard your cheek is being pushed against the table.

“Say my fucking name,” he tells you.

“Please, Rafe,” you obey. He groans in response, hands settling on your hips.

He stretches your cunt out so fucking slowly that you want to scream. You push back against him, and you swear, he laughs at your desperation.

Rafe finally bottoms out in you, his hips against your ass. He puts his hand over your bound wrists, starting to drag out again.

“This pussy is fucking mine,” he says. As if you need the reminder. He owns you completely.

When he picks up the pace, driving into you, your breath hitches. With every thrust, your hips grind against the hard table, making you ache in pain.

“Ow,” you snip before you can stop yourself.

Rafe immediately pulls out of you, making you writhe in frustration.

“What hurts?”

“Nothing,” you lie, wanting him more than you want the pain to stop. “Keep going.”

“What hurts?” he repeats sternly.

“My hips,” you admit. “I’m fine, it’s just ‘cause of the table. Please just-”

“I’m not making you cry again,” he snaps. He cups a hand on your shoulder. “Go to your bed.”

“Rafe, it’s fine.” You feel oddly ashamed, like you’re not doing your job pleasing him how he wants you to.

“Go,” he mutters. His hand pulls you up and you have no choice but to let him push you into your bedroom.

Your wrists are still bound at your lower back when he bends you over your bed. You sink onto your stomach, feeling Rafe’s fingers spread you open before driving his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you. Your arms strain against the constrictions of his belt, the sensations so fucking perfect.

“Shit, I’m…” he groans, and you know he’s close, so you try to tilt up your hips so he can get as deep as possible.

Rafe shakes through his orgasm and you think how you could never tire of this feeling, of being the one he finishes inside of and reaches this feeling with.

He’s panting when he pulls out of you. Your wrists burn against the belt as he loosens it. His hand smooths over your ass before he spanks you and collapses beside you.

“Show me what you bought,” he says. “It better make you cum.” You tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Have an open mind, okay?”

“Damn, what the fuck is it?” Rafe asks with a curious laugh.

You’re sore as you get up on your knees and shift to grab the white ring you already took out of the packaging and placed in your nightstand.

When you settle back on the bed and hold it out in front of him, his brows furrow.

“Is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, his tone apprehensive.

“It might feel really good,” you say with a small smile. “I got a vibrating one.”

Rafe sits up, glancing down at your purchase before looking up at you again.

“Come on,” you laugh. “You surprise me all the time. I can’t surprise you?”

He clears his throat.

“I don’t know,” he says simply, blinking fast. It sounds like a hard no.

“Oh,” you say. You’re shocked he’s not at least a little open to it, considering how kinky he is. “Okay. Sorry.”

You turn to put the toy away, but his next words stop you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Fine.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting his eyes again.

“You just look so fucking sad,” he groans.

“You don’t have to do it.”

“Let’s just try it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “After everything I do to you…” You smile in response.

Rafe sits up against the head of your bed frame and you straddle him, dipping your head to kiss him. It’s strange how with him, making out feels more intimate than sex does. As good as the sex is, nothing gets your heart fluttering quite like when his lips are on yours.

Your hands settle on his shoulders and you tug at the ends of hair as you kiss him passionately.

Rafe smiles under the kiss, your lips molding together, his tongue tumbling with yours. You feel him getting hard again.

You pull back to slide the ring down his cock and he sighs in a way that tells you he can’t believe he’s actually doing this before he takes you in to kiss you again.

Rafe’s hands roll over your ass, squeezing and kneading as you sit on his naked lap. This is the longest you’ve ever kissed. It feels crazy to realize that, considering everything you’ve done together.

“Shit,” he shifts beneath you. His cock is growing, the ring starting to squeeze around him.

“How’s it feel?” you ask.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes low. It makes your heart swell with pride. “Ride me.”

You sink down on him slowly, feeling the ring against you once you’re fully seated. You find the button at the top of it to turn on the vibration.

You both exhale in pleasure at the same time. He skims his hands up to your waist, looking at you while you grind on top of him.

In the dim light of your quiet bedroom, the toy buzzing against your clit, how deep he is inside you, the way his eyes are locked on yours… it’s all so perfect. Everything with him is so fucking perfect that it can’t be true.

The fact that you ended up here all because of a part-time cleaning job and a cam website feels insane.

Your palm is against his hot chest. He looks down at it and his dimples dip into his cheeks as he smiles smugly.

“Your hands are so fucking cute,” he teases. The non-sexual compliment sends you into a tizzy.

“Yours are huge,” you retort, trying to keep cool.

“What else is huge?” he asks.

“Your ego.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs.

“Okay,” you tease, starting to sit up so he’ll slip out of you. He roughly pulls you back down by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rafe mutters. You laugh and start to fuck him faster, your hips rolling in circles.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “I… Fuck, I need to get on top.”

You shift to let him settle over you, your head resting on your pillow. Rafe’s hand runs up the side of your bent leg and he grabs your calf to pull it towards him, silently inviting you to wrap your legs around him.

You hook your ankles together, your entire body hugging him.

You fuck for at least twenty straight minutes, both of you sweating and panting and shaking. You knew he’d last extra long with the cock ring tight around him, but this is unbelievable.

You cum twice underneath him in the span of the session, earning a string of “good girl”s from him. By your third orgasm, he starts to tremble, too.

When Rafe cums inside you, his name tumbles out in his groan. Not princess, not baby, not good girl, but your name, and it gives you a knotted feeling in your stomach that you haven’t had with him yet.

Maybe it’s because he’s elated over coming down from a new level. Or maybe it’s more.

He pulls out, still dripping.

“So… you like my present?” you ask when he falls in your bed next to you.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans. “That was…” He doesn’t seem to have the words, but neither do you. How do you even begin to describe something this unreal?

“I need water,” you say, unsure of how you’re going to even stand up. “Want some?”

He shakes his head in response.

You stand at your kitchen sink, leaning against the counter and swallowing down cold water. On your way back to the bedroom, you notice a lit up screen on your kitchen table.

Rafe must have left his phone here before you moved to the bed. Through pure instinct, you look at the screen. By the time you realize you’re accidentally snooping, it’s too late.

You don’t see the contact name in time, but you do see the message.

bro where are you? too many bitches here for just me lol

A chill rushes through your body. It must be one of his buddies waiting for him at a party.

Of course. It’s a Friday night and you’re pretty sure all the rich people on the island have to do is party.

You feel like an idiot. Expecting exclusivity from Rafe in the arrangement you’re in was ridiculous. Of course he’s fucking around on the side. Someone like him, with his sex drive, can’t be satisfied by one girl.

At this point, you just want him to leave, so you collect his clothes off the kitchen floor.

Thankfully, Rafe’s already sitting up in your bed when you reenter your bedroom. Surely eager to go.

“Here,” you say coldly, handing him his jeans and t-shirt. You don’t look at him when he takes his clothes from you. “Are you gonna head out?”

You realize when you ask the question, it’s like a secret test you’re putting him through. If he stays, he gives a shit about you. If he leaves, he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I should,” he says. He should. Yeah, he really should go look at and flirt with and fuck other girls.

“‘Kay.” You start to collect some clean clothes from your dresser, covering your body with them, feeling strangely insecure around him now.

“You pissed off or something?” he asks behind you as he gets dressed.

You clench your jaw. Honestly, you’re more hurt than anything. But are you even allowed to be? Just because he acts like your boyfriend sometimes doesn’t mean he is.

“No,” you reply. You swallow down the painful feelings and turn to look at him. “Just tired.” You think back to your texts yesterday about how often you’ve hooked up. “Lost count, right? I might need a break.”

You don’t mean it. At this point, you’re just defensive. Wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

Rafe’s face flashes in displeasure.

“What - why? What the fuck happened in the last fucking minute?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to be tired?” you respond.

He dips his head, nodding as he buttons his jeans. He seems silenced by his own anger. Your eyes sweep down his muscled body, wishing he’d just hug you and ask you what’s wrong one more time and reassure you that you’re more than just sex to him.

You can tell he’s pissed off and you know you’re not being fair, but you let him leave without any more words exchanged between you.

After a long shower, you lie in bed and wish Rafe didn’t leave his smell on your pillow. You browse your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You tell yourself you’ll go to sleep in five minutes over and over again. You’re working at the estate tomorrow. You need to get up early. But you know the moment you close your eyes, you’ll be trapped in your thoughts. You don’t want to think about him.

It’s nearing midnight when a text comes in.

Rafe: princessssssdsssss

You look at your screen in confusion. Is this a drunk text?

Rafe: ur mean

Rafe: but ypur pussy is sooo niiice lol

Yeah. He’s plastered.

Rafe: ans you have cutehands

Rafe: you akwyas smell good how the fuck is fhat possibke

You hate that your heart warms at the fact that he’s clearly fucked up but his instinct is to text you.

You reply: i think someone’s drunk…

Rafe: yes iam

Rafe: idk what i’m gona do with yiu loool

You: what do you want to do with me?

You get an alert that he sent you $69.

Rafe: that

Rafe: looool

Sex. Of course.

You: are you going to make me do every position?

Rafe: you’r efreaky as fuck. i know youd like it

You: true…

Rafe: lowkey ur all i think about

Goddamn it. Your heart is pounding at this point. You try to play it off.

You: oh only lowkey. cool

Rafe: don’t be maddd

You: i’m pissed

Rafe: we should fuck aboutt it :)

You know the answer to your next question, that he sees you as a booty call and that’s all, but you know the confirmation.

You: is that all you want to do rafe? fuck?

Rafe: YES

Rafe: what if i come over again tonigjt lol

You: i work tomorrow. i need to sleep

Rafe: you need this dick

You: omg

Rafe: do you likw this skng

Rafe: song

You: ??? what song

You can’t stifle your laugh at how shit-faced he is.

Rafe: irs good

Rafe: u should giveme a lap dance

You: you’re drunk as hell. i’ll see you tomorrow, ok? goodnight

You think back to the way he looked when you snapped at him earlier and decide to send one more message.

You: sorry i was mean

He doesn’t reply. Maybe it’s better that way.

Your body is heavy the next morning. You barely make it to the Camerons’ estate. You don’t see Rafe at all in the morning. You’re guessing he crashed at whoever’s party he went to.

You wonder how many bitches, as he and his friends say, he talked to last night.

When it’s time to turn over his bedsheets, you take a moment to take in the familiarity of his bedroom. When you pull over a new fitted sheet, you realize just how exhausted you are.

There’s no reason for another maid to come into this room. It’s on your list only. And Rafe is gone.

So, what’s the harm in lying down to rest, just for a little bit? You’ll do a better job when you’re not exhausted.

You won’t close your eyes.

You lie on his pillow. Okay, maybe you can close your eyes for a minute. You’ll count to sixty then stand back up.

The numbers quickly melt away and you slip into a slumber.

When you wake up, nuzzling your face into the pillow, Rafe is in bed with you, his back to you.

It takes a moment to remember where you are. You sit up and he notices the movement, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

{ read part eleven here }

author’s note: shoutout to my readers for being so creative. thank you to this anon and this anon and to another reader (you know who you are) for your contributions to this chapter! ILY!

#we are FINALLY getting rafe’s pov in the next part 🫡#also dont hate me for the cliffhanger pls #two more parts and the series will wrap up!!! hope you’ve liked it 🥰#im excited to give this fic its ending but honestly sad its almost over #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

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alltheirdamn · 9 months ago

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 3: Violent Delights

Chp. 3 Summary: Every ounce of your resolve fades away as Joel finds his way past your walls. Rating: 18+ MDNI Word Count: 8.5k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, language, mutual pining, slow burn, angst, banter, sexual tension, heavy kissing, cliff hanger (sorrrrryyyyy) A/N: This one may or may not kill you guys... sorry in advance & please don't hate me. I'll make it up to you <3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

As Boston came into view from the window of the plane, your anxiety began to skyrocket. Exam week flew by, and now it was finally fall break. You had spent half a day scrambling around the house trying to pack while planning when to call a taxi so that you wouldn’t miss your flight. Putting the stress aside, you had made it in time and found yourself trying to ease your mind with a stupid romance book on the flight. You weren’t huge on reading romance, but it was mindless and passed the time as you soared over the states.

Joel never reached out after he sent himself your number. You didn’t reach out either, which took a lot of self-restraint. You commended him for having just as much restraint because you were sure he’d cave and call you at some point. But the silence was blaring loud, and maybe he only wanted your number ‘just in case.’ You wouldn’t get your hopes up anymore.

You were coming down the escalator when your mom and two sisters came into view. Stella, your youngest sister, was the first to run and wrap you up in a big hug. Her black hair was chopped shorter than before, and she had a bright smile plastered on her face.

“Sis!” She squealed, squeezing your shoulders.

“Hi, Stell,” you laughed, hugging her tight.

“Look who’s home at last,” Beth said, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Stella swing you back and forth.

Beth was younger than you by two years, while Stella was newly eighteen and still full of life. You and Beth hadn’t been very close since you left Boston, the bitterness of your absence still lingering between you both.

“Hey, Beth,” you sighed, opening your arms to invite her into a hug.

She was hesitant at first but finally caved and hugged you back. It was brief, but you’d settle for it. Your mom was the next in line to hug you, her voice shaky as she welcomed you home.

“Don’t cry, Mom,” you laughed, pulling away.

“I’m just happy you’re finally home. We missed you a lot.”

She took your luggage and guided you through the airport down to the parking garage. Stella lingered close, wanting to hear about your life in Austin and how teaching was going. Beth, on the other hand, hung back and kept quiet. You knew things would implode at some point during the week, but until then, you’d just have to acknowledge the ticking time bomb in the background.

“Where’s dad?” You asked your mom, climbing into the front seat.

“He’s home grilling up some steaks for dinner. He hasn’t stopped talking about you coming home since you booked the flight. He’s missed you the most,” she sighed.

“I missed him too,” you muttered.

It wasn’t lost on you that leaving had caused a gaping hole in your relationship with your entire family. Even if they weren’t the biggest fans of Bennett, they continued to support you through your decisions to move with him and uproot your life. After he left, they begged you to come home, but you knew staying in Austin was what felt right. You had a job and a home; leaving was admitting defeat. You wouldn’t let him strip away the life you had made; you wouldn’t let yourself be a failure.

The city blurred by as you neared your childhood home. You kept your eyes closed when you passed down the roads Bennett had once driven you, hoping you could force the memories away. But they still lingered. The past always seemed to linger. Stella and Beth chatted quietly in the backseat, leaving you in silence as the house appeared. Nothing had changed: the white brick chipping around the edges, the hedges in the front yard overgrown and unruly. You expected to feel at home, seeing the house again, but it didn’t feel like it once had.

As you unpacked the trunk and hauled your luggage inside, you heard your dad’s voice floating from the back deck.

“Is that my girl?” He called out, walking through the sliding doors with his grilling tools in hand.

“It is,” you smiled, dropping your things at the door.

“Hey there, peanut,” he greeted, awkwardly hugging you as his hands were full.

“Hey, Dad,” you whispered.

“Missed you, kid. How was the flight?”

You trailed him out onto the deck, the smell of smoke mixing with the autumn breeze as it passed through the trees lining the backyard. You had missed seeing the seasons change, the yellowing of the leaves, and the crisp air that seemed to linger throughout the day. Nothing would beat the East Coast in the fall, even if you liked living in Texas now.

“The flight wasn’t bad,” you shrugged, sinking into a lawn chair as you watched him flip the steaks. “I don’t know why four hours in the air felt so long.”

“You know, you could avoid it if you moved back home,” he suggested.

“I like living in Austin,” you argued. “I have a good job, and I’m happy there.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t happy. All I’m saying is that you can always come home.”

You remember him saying the exact same thing after the wedding ceremony went to shit. Two days after the incident, your dad was consoling you on the couch, holding you as you cried and urging you to come home. You can always come home, peanut.

“I know I can, Dad. Can we please just drop it?”

Your dad chuckled and made a pact with you not to repeat it. You only hoped your mom and sisters would do the same.

Dinner passed under a heavy silence. No one knew how to speak to you without possibly mentioning Bennett… or ‘the incident’ as they liked to refer to it. You awkwardly made small talk between your parents and Stella while Beth sat and pushed her food around. You stole glances at her ever so often, trying to form a plan when you could talk to her. Out of everyone in the family, your absence hurt her the most. She had been the most vocal about your issues with Bennett, which was to your detriment since you had confided in her the most. She gave the harsh truths and tough love, going so far as to try and talk you out of the engagement. In your love-struck haze, you hadn’t listened to her and found yourself defending Bennett—defending your emotions. You wished you had listened to her.

“So,” your mom started. “Any new love interests?”

You gave her a pointed stare, stabbing the steak on your plate. This was the last thing you wanted: explaining yourself to them.

“No, Mom. There’s no one to speak of,” you huffed.

“C’mon mom,” Beth laughed, chiming in. “You know she’s still wallowing away in that big house all alone.”

“Beth,” your dad warned. At the same time, Stella whispered, “Beth, don’t.”

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled through your teeth, glaring at Beth, who sat back in her seat with a smug expression.

“You did this to yourself, you know?” Beth said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Did what?” You questioned.

“We all warned you about Bennett. You knew he was no good, yet you stayed. And look! He left you.”

Her words cut deep, deeper than you wanted to admit. You kept your expression stony, not feeding into her words.

“Beth, you need to stop right now,” your mom nearly growled. “You’re out of line.”

“Let her talk, Mom,” you said. “She needs to get it out.”

“Oh, I need to get it out?” Beth snapped. “You’re the one fucking sulking about Austin, pulling this whole ‘woe is me’ bullshit. The signs were all there! Get over yourself. It’s been two years, sis. Move on.”

“Just because we don’t talk doesn’t mean I haven’t moved on,” you exhaled. “I’m still healing from it all, and I’m sorry I’m not including you in that. I didn’t know you needed access to every part of my life.”

Beth slapped her hands on the table, rising to her feet to stare down at you over the plates of food. You shrunk back, trying to keep the tears at bay. She was going in for the final blow.

“You came to me for advice, and I gave it. You went ahead with the engagement and still ended up alone. He was never going to marry you. You’re a fucking mouse too afraid to defend yourself, and he knew you wouldn’t fight for him back. He’s probably glad he didn’t marry someone as stupid as you. You can’t see the warning signs even when they’re flashing in your face!”

That was it. That was the breaking point.

You tossed your napkin onto your plate and removed yourself from the table. You drowned out your parents' voices and Stella’s yelling for you to come back as you ran towards the door.

“Run!” Beth called from behind you. “Run like Bennett did!”

You barely made it out the front door before crumpling to the ground with tears streaming down your face. Staying with Bennett didn’t just hurt you; it hurt everyone. They wanted the best for you, and you didn’t see that until it was too late. Your relationship with Beth had been shattered because you had thrown all the blame on her. You blamed her for every traitorous thought you had about Bennett; you wanted to blame her for your doubts and unhappiness. But it wasn’t her. It was you. Everything was your fault—it always was.

Stella’s small voice saying your name roused you from your crying as she joined you on the porch. Wrapping her arms around your shoulders, she leaned into you and let you cry out every bottled-up emotion.

“I’m sorry, Stell,” you sobbed. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you guys. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I never came home.”

“Shhh,” she hushed. “No one is mad at you for staying in Austin. We understand why you stayed. Beth is just hurt. You shut everyone out, but you shut her out the most. She just misses you.”

“All I do is fuck everything up,” you muttered.

“No, stop that,” she argued, rubbing a hand over your back. “None of what happened is your fault. You deserved love, and he wasn’t the right one. You’ll find it again.”

“I stayed for too long. I should have left him long before the wedding. I was just hoping it would fix everything.”

“How were you to know?” She sighed. “Just because he was shitty doesn’t mean you can’t be sad. What he did was totally fucked up, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Tell Beth that,” you laughed through a hiccup. “She thinks I deserved it.”

“She’s hurt. She doesn’t mean those things.”

“But she’s not wrong.”

Stella sighed, pulling away from you to level you with a sympathetic look.

“I think you guys need to talk it out. Maybe not right now, but when you’re ready,” she offered.

“You’re the young one,” you groaned. “You shouldn’t be consoling your older sister like this.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be nice to you,” she smiled, quietly laughing.

“Thank you,” you whimpered.

You fell back into her arms and stared aimlessly at the trees blowing in the wind. After a few quiet moments, you finally pulled yourself together and shuffled out of her arms. Stella watched you wearily as you stood, brushing the dirt from your pants.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk to clear my head,” you announced. “Tell Mom and Dad I'll come back in a few.”

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“I’ll be okay, Stell. I promise. Thank you again,” you sighed, kissing her head.

Dusk fell over the neighborhood as you wandered between the trees and houses. A few neighbors walked their dogs while their kids ran through the streets playing ball or riding their bikes. You never wanted to be out and interacting at home, but you didn’t mind it here. There was no risk. No one would stop you and inquire about your life like they would at home.

As you rounded down the next street, your phone started ringing in your back pocket. You whipped it out and saw the one name you had been waiting for the last week: Joel. Part of you didn’t want to answer; you weren’t in the right headspace. But you had waited to hear from him, and honestly, he was probably the only person to sway your mood for the better. Sucking in a breath, you answered.

“Hello?” You said, hoping your voice didn’t betray you.

“I got a bone to pick with you,” Joel huffed, clearly joking.

But after the events of dinner, his words felt like another punch to the gut.

“Why?” You asked nervously, pulling the phone away to sniffle back more tears.

“I finished Romeo and Juliet, and I—. Wait, are you alright? Why does it sound like you’ve been cryin’?”

You let out a sad laugh; of course, he’d see right through you. He always managed to do that.

“Because I have been,” you sighed. There was no point in lying to him when you knew he’d continue bugging you.

“What happened? Are you alright? Do y’need me to come get you from somewhere?” God, he sounded so sweet when he was worried.

“I’m fine, Mr. Miller. I’m not even in Austin right now, so you’re off the hook on that offer.”

“Where are you?” He pressed.

“Boston. I’m visiting family over the break,” you explained.

“You from there?”

“I am.”

“I didn’t take you as an East Coast type of girl, but it makes sense with how stubborn y’are,” he chuckled.

“Yep. That’s me.”

“Alright, I ain’t gonna let you get off the hook this easily. What’s goin’ on?”

You rounded back down another street, holding your phone tighter against your ear, hoping you’d catch every breath in the receiver. Hearing Joel’s voice was enough to soothe your heart after a terrible night.

“Really,” you insisted. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I reckon we do. I bet you’ll feel better after.”

“I reckon I won’t,” you mimicked his accent.

Joel let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your response. It garnered a smile from you as you pictured his lips turned up on the corners, the bottom lip pushed out and pouty like they always were.

“My family isn’t happy with me for staying in Austin. They think I should have moved home a couple of years ago,” you explained. “I’ll spare you the bad parts, but I should have come home. It would’ve made it easier on everyone.”

“But would it’ve made it easier on you?” He asked.

You stopped walking and pinched the bridge of your nose to hold back the coming tears. Of course, he saw it from the latter. He wasn’t siding with your parents, but he didn’t know what you had done and endured to deserve their bitterness.

“Probably, but it doesn’t matter. Listen, you don’t have to worry about me. We can talk poetry instead,” you offered.

“If that’s what y’want, and for the record, I’m gonna worry about you.” You could hear his smile through the phone.

“You don’t need to, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel,” he sighed. “Y’know, you can say my name.”

“I know, it’s just—.”

“All formalities,” he finished. “I just wish you’d quit that because I think we’re far past it by now.”

“I’m trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism,” you laughed.

Your house was slowly coming into view again, and you felt the nerves creep back in. Eventually, you’d have to face them again, but right now, all you wanted to hear was Joel’s thick accent and husky voice.

“What’s so wrong about bein’ unprofessional?” He joked.

“A lot, Mr. Miller,” you sighed.

There was a brief pause on his end, and you bit your lip, wondering if he understood the meaning behind your words. You'd be completely vulnerable to him when you crossed the threshold between professional and unprofessional. Your restraint would melt away, and he’d win.

“Should I be callin’ you Miss Smith again?” He sounded serious. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and all that.”

“No,” you said all too quickly. “Call me by my name. I—I like it.”

You fucking idiot.

Joel spoke your name in a lower voice, sending a shiver down your spine. Your steps back to the house slowed as you tried to control a strange urge rushing through your body. Was he teasing you? Was he actually doing that? You had to reel back in all the unprofessional thoughts swarming your head… especially the ones wondering how your name would sound when he was inside—. Stop that.

“What’re you doing?” You exhaled.

“Sayin’ your name,” he countered. “Y’said you liked it.”

“Yeah, I do.” You were beyond flustered and hot. “You’re—never mind. I should probably get inside and make peace with my family. Don’t think I forgot about Romeo and Juliet; I still want to hear your thoughts.”

“Call me tonight before you sleep,” Joel said. Oh, Christ. “I ain’t gonna remember the story if I wait any longer.”

“We could’ve talked about it earlier,” you chuckled. “You got sidetracked asking about me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You were at the edge of the front yard now, staring blankly at the porch light flickering against the nightfall blanketing the house. You couldn’t stay outside forever or on the phone with him forever—no matter how much you wanted to.

“I need to get back to my family,” you sidestepped. “I’ll call tonight, okay?”

“Promise?”

You smiled to yourself, gripping the phone tighter in your hand. Damn this man, and damn his charm.

“I promise, Mr. Miller. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” he whispered, your name falling off his tongue one last time.

You were so screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

The house was quiet when you walked through the front door. Your mom and dad were lounging in the living room, flipping through channels, and Stella sat at the dining room table, working on her homework. Beth was nowhere to be found, which you figured would happen. Your mom glanced up from the couch with the same sympathetic expression Stella had given you earlier, and quite honestly, you were sick of it. You were sick of being pitied. You were sick of people being sad for you all the time. Yes, you were sad—all the time—but you wanted to be alone in your healing. You didn’t want to feel worse about it all from the people meant to support you. And you knew deep down they did support you, but it didn’t always feel that way.

You needed to talk to Beth, or this entire week would be hell.

“Is she up in her room?” You asked your mom.

She gave you a slow nod and then returned to watching the TV. She didn’t have to say anything; she knew why you asked.

Upstairs, your house was divided by two hallways. The left hallway had your parents and Stella’s room, and down the right was yours and Beth’s. You had spent so many nights with her tucked in the bed with you, staying up late talking about anything under the sun and always being each other's best friend. But that all disappeared when she realized how terrible Bennett was. Leaving Boston broke her heart, and in turn, Bennett broke yours and destroyed everything left between you and your family.

After a sharp inhale and one final wipe of your eyes, you knocked on her door, hoping she’d let you in. The silence behind the door cemented the fact she knew it was you, yet the door opened and revealed Beth just as disheveled as you were. Her long brown hair was tossed up into a bun, and the makeup she had worn earlier was gone, a redness rimming her eyes in its place. You wanted to wrap your arms around her to apologize for everything, but Beth wasn’t that person. She didn’t want affection. She wanted words.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

She nodded slowly, cracking the door open wider to let you step into her room. It was just as you remembered it: the fluffy white bed in the corner, the scattered polaroids on the wall, and the full-length mirror propped in the corner that you had gotten ready in front of before. Beth sat on the corner of her bed, her head hung as you joined her.

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I was a real bitch at dinner.”

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

“You kinda were,” you chuckled. “But I understand. I shut you out. I shut everyone out, honestly. It’s easier to be alone.”

“No, it’s not,” she argued.

“Maybe, but it’s what I thought was best for me. You were right about Bennett, and I didn’t listen to you when I should have.”

“You may be older, but you are so stupid.”

You laughed harder at that, feeling her hand reach around and grip yours. You squeezed her fingers, your chest rising and falling normally. You missed this Beth, the one that could make light of the worst.

“You know I couldn’t have come home, right? I made a life out in Austin, even without Bennett. I even went to his law firm and asked where he had gone, and all they said was that he took a job out of state. I was so scared he came back here, and if I came back to Boston, I’d see him again.”

“Why are you so afraid of him?” She asked.

“Because he broke my heart worse than I could have ever imagined. I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him again, Beth. I’d be terrified.”

Beth glanced down at you, shrugging you off her shoulder so you could meet her eyes. Tears swam in her blue eyes, rolling over onto her cheeks.

“You’re stronger than that. You always have been.”

“I don’t feel like it sometimes.”

She sighed, brushing away tears you hadn’t realized escaped your eyes.

“Don’t let some shit guy ruin your life. You deserve to be happy, sis. There’s going to be someone so much greater out there.”

Flashes of Joel’s dark eyes and curly hair swam into your mind when she said those words. You didn’t want to believe Joel would be that person, but even your mind betrayed you. You willed it away, hoping you’d keep any thought of him lingering in the back of your head.

“I know,” you said. “Eventually, there will be.”

“There’s already someone, isn’t there?” She quirked an eyebrow.

You wanted to deny it and lie, but you wanted your friendship back. So, you told her everything, starting at the father-daughter dance and leading up to the phone call that had just ended. Beth had a massive grin while you spoke, nodding with every detail you shared.

“So… you’re gonna give him a chance, right?” She questioned.

“I can’t. He’s my students’ dad, and I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Then sneak around,” she pressed. “Here’s this amazing guy who’s obviously into you, and you’re gonna let that slip away because of what’s right and wrong?”

“What would you do?” You exhaled, falling back against her bed. You stared at the ceiling fan, watching it twirl in circles, hoping an answer would be hidden in its blades.

“I’d have amazing sex with him,” Beth chuckled, laying back beside you. “And then maybe fall in love, I don’t know. But sex for sure.”

“You’re terrible,” you giggled.

Beth laughed along with you, shuffling her body closer so both of you were shoulder to shoulder. Coming home would feel like this again, but coming home would mean losing everything all over again. You’d lose your job and the house you loved so much… and you’d lose Joel. For some reason, the idea of not seeing him around made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe Beth was right; maybe you’d give Joel a chance.

It was well into the night when you finally found yourself unwinding in bed and curling under the covers. You held your phone close to your chest, wondering if it was too late to call. In Boston, it was nearly midnight. Austin was only an hour behind, but you knew Joel worked early with his company. You didn’t want to assume he’d be asleep already, but the chances were slim he was awake and waiting for you.

You dialed his number anyway.

It barely reached the second ring before he answered, your name as sweet as ever rolling through the receiver.

“I didn’t think you’d call,” he said. “Figured you forgot all about me.”

“Never,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice down. Everyone was asleep in the house, and the last thing you wanted was for them to hear you talking on the phone late at night like you were a teenager all over again.

“Y’figure everythin’ out with your family?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s all good now.”

“Why’re you whisperin’?” He chuckled.

“Because everyone is asleep,” you tossed back.

“Sneakin’ around late then, huh?”

“Don’t tease me, Mr. Miller.”

“I’ll tease all I want,” he countered.

You blew out a breath, rolling over in the bed. With your knees curled up to your chest, you listened to Joel’s soft breathing and wondered if he was in bed, too. You wondered what he looked like, stretched out against the mattress, and if his body was as warm as his smile.

“Are you going to tell me about Romeo and Juliet? Or are you just going to sidetrack us again?” You asked softly.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, and you could hear rustling behind him. He was in bed, and for some reason, that enticed you.

“You coulda warned me that they both die,” he started. “If it weren’t for Paris, they coulda had a happy ending!”

“The whole point of the story is to have a tragic ending. Shakespeare warned everyone in the foreshadowing, with Montague saying, ‘These violent delights have violent ends.’ It’s supposed to be a story about the chaos of passion.”

“Still ain’t makin’ up for the fact they never got to be together,” Joel grumbled.

“Not every story is a happy ending,” you exhaled, wincing at the words you spoke. You didn’t die because of Bennett, but the story hit too close to home. Between the chaos of family and the violent ends of your relationship, you had nearly become Juliet, killing herself over a man. Not literally, but the pain after the wedding was a death within itself.

“Why d’you like it so much?” Joel asked.

“Wasn’t that your job to find out?”

“I’m not gonna lay here and make assumptions ‘bout you, but I get the feelin’ you’re a lot like Juliet.”

“Maybe,” you muttered quietly.

“Who’s Romeo then?”

He didn’t sound angry, but you knew he only asked because he wanted to understand you better. And fuck, if that wasn’t a turn-on in itself.

“He’s the one that left me at the altar.”

There was a heavy silence from his end of the phone. You wanted to take the words back and shove them deep within you where the world couldn’t hear them. No matter how many times you said it aloud, it never felt easier. But it was the unfortunate truth; your love story had a tragic ending.

“Jesus fuck, I’m so sorry,” Joel exhaled.

“Don’t be. I’m okay.”

“Whoever did that didn’t deserve you. Perfect girl like you ain’t deserve someone that shitty.”

Perfect girl.

You had to clench your thighs together at the way his voice roughened when he said those two words. You wanted to play them on a loop over and over until you were mindless. Bennett never called you perfect—beautiful, maybe, but never perfect. He knew you for five years and never said it; Joel knew you for a month and not only said it…but believed it.

“I stayed with him a lot longer than I should have.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Joel offered, his voice gentler than a moment ago.

“Not right now,” you whispered. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listenin’.”

You were playing with fire now, and maybe it was the vulnerability of the day catching up to you, but Beth’s words were stuck in your head. There’s going to be someone so much greater out there.

“Ask me anything you want over dinner.”

Silence. Dead silence.

You held your breath, waiting for a response, waiting for anything. You could handle rejection, or at least you hoped you could. You hadn’t put yourself out there since Bennett left, and the idea of being unlovable was hard to wrap your head around. Did he ruin you to the point of no return? Was there any hope left?

“I’m not gonna take y’out to dinner and talk about your ex-fiancé,” Joel grumbled.

“Oh, okay, yeah. I understand.”

The tears were welling in your eyes now, threatening your composure. He didn’t want to take you out anymore; that was fine. Who would want to deal with the broken pieces left in the wake of your past?

“If I’m gonna take you out, it’s gonna be a proper date where I get to know you,” Joel lowered his voice, the sound echoing through your head.

“A date?” You laughed nervously.

“Yes.” He said your name in a stern tone that stalled your breathing. “Quit bein’ all professional, and let me take you somewhere nice so I can really get to know you. That’s all I been wantin’ to do.”

“I’ll make you another deal,” you offered.

“God, you and your damn deals. Alright, let’s hear it,” he chuckled.

“When I’m back, ask me on a proper date.”

“Haven’t I already done that? The offer still stands, y’know.”

“I wasn’t ready to say yes when you asked. I think I’m ready now.”

“Bout damn time,” he laughed. “I swear I’m a patient man, but I’ve been goin’ out my damn mind waitin’ for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. That was always the default response these days.

“You’re worth waitin’ for, I promise.”

You were at a complete and total loss for words. How did Joel always say everything you had always wanted to hear? You tried not to compare him to Bennett, but this was far beyond anything you had received in the past. It was foreign but so sweet. You allowed yourself to take the plunge; now, every risk was heightened. If the heartbreak Bennett had caused was this bad, you hoped never to find out what losing Joel would feel like.

“Y’still there?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” you whispered. You didn’t realize how long your thoughts had silenced you. “I’m looking forward to you asking me.”

“And I’m lookin’ forward to askin’…again.”

You smiled to yourself and shoved your head further under the covers. You could hear Joel yawning on the other end of the phone, and you realized just how late it was. You could listen to him talk until you fell asleep, but you wouldn’t keep him any longer.

“Go and get some sleep, Mr. Miller.”

“Y’sayin’ I’m old?” He grumbled.

“I’m saying I can hear you yawning over there,” you quipped.

“Alright, alright. Maybe we should both be gettin’ sleep. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Mr. Miller.”

The rest of the week went smoother than you had imagined. After the conversation with Beth, you both fell back into the familiar routine of being close. You’d catch her sliding you small smiles while you were out around the city, a deep concern crossing over her eyes, knowing how hard it was to relive the memories. Boston hadn’t changed, making it easier knowing you had made the right decision to leave. Stella introduced you to her new boyfriend, and your parents cooked a huge dinner to include him in a family evening together. And every night, you’d stay up late talking to Joel on the phone.

He told you tiny snippets of his day and what had happened at work while you shared pieces of your day traveling around town with family. You noticed how he sidestepped or avoided asking deeper questions about you, and it was sweet knowing that he really wanted to wait for that date to ask those questions. Those late-night talks became something you looked forward to, even if they were filled with mundane things to chat about.

Friday came quicker than you expected, and you were fidgeting to get on the plane home. Joel had asked the night before when you were landing and insisted on being the one to pick you up from the airport. You were struggling to continue saying ‘no’ to him, and frankly, you wanted him to be the first person you saw when you arrived.

Austin’s skyline was dotted with lights as the plane touched down in the evening. Those few hours on the plane felt like an eternity, but as you scrambled down the tunnel into the airport, you felt a surge of excitement flowing through your body. Something had shifted over the week between you and Joel; that line between professional and unprofessional slowly disappeared. You were losing the battle inside you to keep your distance from him, and God made it so easy to do that. His charm kept you coming back for more, and the idea of what could happen between the two of you was terrifying, but the risk was beginning to look less dangerous. You felt comfortable, which was far from what you felt with Bennett. You always had to be the best version of yourself, the perfect image of a perfect girlfriend and fiancé. But you realized with Joel, you could let your control slip. He had seen and heard your vulnerability more times than you wanted to allow, yet he didn’t run away.

He didn’t run away.

That thought slammed into you as you walked through the airport, knowing you weren’t walking towards an empty altar. You were walking towards a man willing to wait for you—for the first time.

As you made it through the crowd of other travelers, you finally emerged into the lower level of the airport, your eyes darting around to find Joel. In the chaos of bodies walking around, his tall figure stood above the rest, a small bouquet of flowers in hand. Your steps slowed as you approached, your eyes shifting from the flowers to his welcoming smile.

“What’s this?” you asked, your cheeks pink from running or seeing him; you weren’t sure.

“Figured it would be a nice way to welcome you home,” Joel smiled, handing them to you.

The flowers were an array of colorful carnations, their orange and pink petals standing out against the green leaves surrounding them. You took them from him and watched as he replaced the flowers in his hand with your luggage, insisting on carrying them for you. He wore a multi-colored flannel, the material stretching over his back and shoulders as he lifted your bags. You stood back, mesmerized, as he led you toward the parking garage.

“Thank you again,” you said. “I know you had a long work day, so thank you for driving out here.”

Joel looked over his shoulder and smiled at you. You noticed the scruff on his face was a bit grown out from the last time you saw him, but those bare patches still stood strong. There was a strange urge inside you to kiss them and feel the warmth of the skin underneath.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he said.

His truck was parked far back in the parking lot, which made the walk together longer than you expected. The smell of the flowers enveloped you as you held them close to your chest. You could only count a handful of times Bennett had gotten you flowers and could count even fewer times he actually picked you up from the airport. Any time you went home to visit family, which was far and few, he used the excuse of work to avoid being there for you.

Joel lifted your luggage into the backseat of his truck, turning to you once he shut the door. He spoke your name softly, staring down at you as you gave him a curious look.

“Well, since you’re home now, I’m just gonna ask it,” he started. “Would you go out to dinner with me?”

“I’d love that,” you smiled, a blush crawling up your neck.

“Good,” he nodded. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Wait, you mean right now?”

Joel leaned closer to you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I told you I’m a patient man, but I ain’t waitin’ any longer. So get your stubborn ass in my truck, and let me take you out.”

“You’re relentless, Mr. Miller,” you rolled your eyes.

Joel opened the passenger door for you, waiting patiently as you climbed in and buckled yourself.

“I’m gonna make sure you stop callin’ me that by the end of the night,” he said, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stalled, and you wondered about the meaning behind his words. Joel probably didn’t mean it sexually, but that’s exactly where your brain went. This was only a date, nothing more, nothing less. You were already giving into him with this; you wouldn’t give in any more than that—no matter how badly you might want to.

“We’ll see, Mr. Miller,” you smirked.

Joel’s brown eyes darkened at your challenge, and you hoped he didn’t notice how your thighs clenched to quell the warmth pooling inside your stomach. You were staying strong on this one; saying his name meant giving up control entirely. If you gave up the control, you’d give up everything, and you weren’t sure if you could do that to yourself—not yet, at least.

You made small talk with Joel on the drive to his chosen restaurant. It was a casual steakhouse, but you were obviously underdressed from being on a plane for nearly four hours. Joel wasn’t much better either; his attire always seemed too casual and messy. Oddly enough, it was growing on you. You couldn’t imagine him wearing suits or dress-casual attire; it didn’t suit his persona. He was rugged through and through, and you liked that. You had judged him so early on, but the carefree way he carried himself amplified your attraction to him. Bennett always wore some bullshit suit and tie for work, looking overdressed and uncomfortable. Whenever he wasn’t working—which was rare—he still looked like a pretentious East Coast snob with his dress slacks and polo. God, the more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off.

Once Joel and you were seated at a table and ordered, you found yourself squirming in your seat. Joel’s eyes were warm and unwavering in the restaurant's lighting as he focused on you. With his hands folded on the table, he kept his body pressed forward just to get closer to you.

“So, I know y’told me you had sisters,” he started. “Beth and Stella, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, sipping the red wine before you. You hadn’t planned on drinking, but your body demanded some sort of aid in numbing the nerves coursing through your veins. “Stella is the youngest. She’s eighteen. She graduated high school this year and started attending Boston College in September. Beth is two years younger than me and works in graphic design for a company in downtown Boston.”

“If Beth is two years younger, that makes you…”

“I’m twenty-seven, Mr. Miller,” you chuckled.

Joel’s eyes widened a bit, most likely as he realized the age gap between you both. Clearly, he had to have noticed by now, but his reaction was still comical. You nervously bit your lip, wondering if the distance between your age would make him less interested. It’s only a date, you reminded yourself. He wasn’t interested in you that much.

“Shesh,” he whistled, leaning back into his chair. “I ain’t take you to be that young.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you muttered.

He shook his head, reaching for his beer, and you watched him take a long sip before responding.

“No, it’s not like that,” he reassured. “Y’just surprise me, that’s all.”

“How so?” You asked, leaning forward.

“Y’act so mature sometimes,” he explained. “You’re big on actin’ professional and adult-like.”

“It’s my job,” you said.

“Bein’ a teacher shouldn’t stop you from enjoyin’ your twenties,” he countered.

You sighed, nodding along to his words. A lot of things had stopped you from enjoying your twenties, like a particular asshole you thought you’d spend your life with. Being young and careless was never something in the cards for you, and honestly, the closest thing you had gotten to that was the night Joel saw you at the bar.

“Do you feel like being a young dad did the same for you?” You asked.

Joel inhaled sharply, scratching the back of his neck. You began to realize he did that a lot; in nervous moments, in moments he was deep in thought, in moments he felt awkward. Right now, you assumed it was because he was trying to formulate some sort of response.

“I ain’t really had a choice in it. When Sarah’s mom left, I was pretty lost tryna do the ‘dad’ thing. I had to juggle between work and bein’ present, and Tommy was young then, too, so he couldn’t help much. I just tried my best and learned as I went.”

“How old is Tommy?”

“Younger than you,” Joel laughed. “He’s twenty-five.”

“Oh gosh, you guys have a big age gap, too.”

“That we do.”

The waiter brought your meals, forcing the chit-chat to stall while you indulged in the steak and side dishes in silence. Occasionally, Joel would hum as he ate, glancing up at you to see your reaction to the flavors as well. You returned his curious eyes with soft smiles, indulging in how he looked at you like you were something he hungered for far more than the food in front of him. When the plates cleared and your napkins were disposed of, Joel asked the waiter for another round of drinks so that you both had no option but to remain seated in each other's company.

“What made you want to be a teacher?” He asked, smoothing down the flannel over his stomach.

Your eyes caught onto the movement of his hand as it brushed down his navel, the veins flexing as he readjusted himself in his chair. Joel dipped his head slightly to draw your attention back to his soft eyes, and you instantly felt caught in your actions.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I’ve always loved literature, and the idea of teaching young kids about it just seemed appealing. There’s a lot of power in words, you know? I want to show them that.”

“That’s pretty poetic of you to say,” he smirked.

“Well, I hope so. I literally teach poetry for a living.”

Joel chuckled quietly, the lines around his eyes crinkling as his smile stretched across his face. Was it terrible that you were picturing him kissing you? Despite every thought in your head that shouted at you not to think about it, it was all you could focus on.

“Do you enjoy your job?” You countered.

“I do, most days. Tommy and I are tryna start up our own business one day, but it ain’t in the cards yet. I need to save up a bit more and hopefully work on gettin’ permits and all that before I can actually do it,” he explained.

“I believe in you,” you said softly. “You’re a hard worker, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, thank you.” His cheeks reddened at your words.

Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, stealing shy glances and laughing at the emptiness of words. Joel had said he wanted to get to know you more, but the questions seemed far and few. In your mind, you considered that a second date could be in the cards, seeing as though neither of you had yet tired of the other. Even in the quiet moments, Joel had remained completely enraptured by you, never letting his eyes stray too far from yours.

“Y’ready to get home?” He asked once the bill was paid for.

“I suppose so,” you shrugged.

Joel’s hand was firm on your lower back as he guided you out of the restaurant and back to his truck. The featherlike touch against your clothed skin was enough to awaken that warmth back into your body, the feeling of it blooming inside you with each step. Inside the truck, you watched as the streets blurred past as Joel drove toward your home. The night was ending, yet you still ached at the thought of him leaving. You didn’t dare to take anything further, and you still didn’t know if that was something he wanted—or if it was something you wanted.

Seeing your tiny home was a breath of fresh air as Joel put his truck in park. You gathered the flowers from the seat and quietly helped him unload your luggage. The tension between you thickened with each step as you approached the front door. Turning to him, you smiled and squeezed his arm.

“Thank you,” you said, hesitating by the door. “For tonight and everything.”

Joel’s eyes sparkled under your porch light, the darkness of his irises illuminated and dancing in the shadows. He had shrugged off his flannel after hauling your luggage from the truck, and now it hung over his arms, exposing the corded veins running from his hands to his biceps.

“Of course,” he said your name softly. “Y’look beautiful tonight, by the way. I can’t remember if I told you that or not, but really, you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and there was no way of hiding the redness creeping over your face and neck. He watched you with a hungry gaze, his eyes roaming your body. Even if you only stood in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, Joel looked at you like you were bare before him.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I—I know I look like shit, but thank you.

“Y’definitly don’t look like shit,” Joel insisted. “I’ll plan another date so y’can get all dolled up and look even more beautiful.

“That’s not really necessary. I mean the dressing up part, not the date part. I’d like to go on another date.” You were rambling at this point.

“Sure it is. The world deserves to see y’look beautiful, even if I want to keep you to myself selfishly.”

“Stop it,” you blushed. “Go get home before it gets too late.”

“You tryna get rid of me that quick?”

“I know how much you enjoy talking,” you laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he grinned, turning to leave. “Y’have a good night, okay?”

“I will. Goodnight, Joel.”

Then you realized what you had said.

He realized it, too.

“Y—,” Joel cut himself off. Shaking his head, he let his flannel fall to the ground. “Fuck it,” he whispered.

Joel swarmed you, pressing you against the door as his hands came up to cup your face. Without a second to breathe, his lips crashed against yours until stars sparked behind your eyes. His mouth was warm as he devoured you slowly, drinking in every noise you made. Every one of your senses was evaded by him: the scent of his cologne drifting over your body, the heat of his skin against yours, the sound of his mouth breathing into yours. You found yourself hesitant at first, adjusting to the hardness of his body pressed against yours. He must have also realized it, his mouth slowing as he pulled away.

“I—shit,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your fingers crawled up his chest and gripped at the collar of his shirt, hauling him back to you until your mouth was a breath away from his.

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” you whispered.

Then his lips pressed against yours again, this time frantic and all-consuming. You opened your mouth to him, letting him taste the vulnerability spilling out of you, replacing it with desperation you hadn’t yet dared to feel. Your tongue darted out to brush over his bottom lip, and he captured it in another greedy kiss, intertwining himself with you. Joel’s hands moved to tangle in your hair, his fingers lightly pulling as he drew you in closer. Your hands wound their way around his neck; your chest flush against his until all you could feel was the rapid beating of his heart matching yours. There was no way of telling where he began and you ended; you both had melted into one. Lips, teeth, tongue… over and over again, the motion repeated, and you felt the warmth creeping up your spine the more he moved against you. You sunk your teeth into his lip, tugging it slightly, as you pulled away to gasp for air.

“Joel,” you exhaled, panting softly.

“Yeah, baby?” His voice was rough as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna stop.”

He lowered his lips to kiss down your neck, the chill of his mouth on you prickling your skin. You couldn’t form any words to tell him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop. You were mindless and boneless in his strong grasp, completely untethered from your control. All you could focus on was the way his mouth roamed over the column of your neck, the veins that your blood rushed through throbbing under his lips. Joel’s hand traveled back around, his thumb tipping your jaw upwards so that he could kiss more of your skin. Your eyes blinked at the flickering bulb of your porch light, the sound of crickets chirping somewhere in the distance. His tongue traced a line up your neck, his teeth nipping against your jaw. You let out a soft whine as his mouth connected to yours again, the passion between you snapping into place.

The night wasn’t ending here. You needed more. The craving was too intense to keep at bay, and you needed him in ways you had been too afraid to admit. Your fingers wound themselves into the curls at the base of his neck, holding him firm against you as you grinned into his open mouth.

“Come inside,” you mumbled against his moving lips.

You fumbled blindly for your keys, twisting around to unlock your door; all the while, Joel kept his lips on any part of your skin he could find. He reached around you to shove the door open, and with one arm wound around your waist, you both tumbled over the threshold.

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