#probably!!!! is anyone out there still interested? unclear but I'm just happy to be here

[lymricks]

what's a harringrove story you wish you could read?

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Saw a post about how disappointing it is that Marinette never asked Adrien out (accurate) and had a thought: is Kagami the only girl who ever asks a guy out? Because I think she is and, if so, then yikes.

For a "feminist" show, it's certainly a choice to have a girl ask out a guy and have him accept just because he wants to move on/be loved. I remember being told to not ask guys out for exactly that reason. "He'll only say yes because he thinks you're easy" and stuff like that. This isn't a gender specific behavior, anyone can enter a relationship for "the wrong" reasons, but the stereotype is heavily gendered and Kagami is the only girl who ever got the guts to break the standard "guys ask the girls" mold, which is why Adrigami's writing is an issue. If your single piece of representation fits some very negative stereotypes, then you done goofed. Unless you're trying to teach little girls to never ask a guy out?

These are all of the hetero relationships that I can think of where we basically see the couple get together:

Ivan and Mylene - Ivan asks her out/writers her a song, longest lasting teen couple in the show. Consistently depicted as loving, supportive, and healthy.

Luka and Marinette - Luka asks her out and Marinette legitimately tries to date him/get over Adrien. Luka is incredibly supportive and understanding of the fact that she likes him, but still has Adrien brainrot. They probably would have stayed together if not for the Ladybug thing.

Adrien and Marinette - Adrien asks her out in Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, and the Kwami's Choice, each of which results in a relationship. The first two seemed healthy and loving and the writers sure seem to think that the current one is, too. Marinette obviously tries to ask him out a lot, but never manages to do it, so we don't know how that would have gone.

Nino and Alya - unclear, possibly mutual, but Alya certainly didn't ask him and their relationship is reasonably solid, ignoring Nino's terrible writing in season 5 which is clearly not meant to be seen as the lead-in to a breakup (good boyfriends do not reveal their girlfriend's secret identities unless they have a very good reason to do so!)

Kagami and Adrien - Kagami has to do all the work for their dates and Adrien continues to flirt with Ladybug in a non-playful, I'm-still-totally-interested way as opposed to the playful flirting he does with characters like Rena Rouge and Purple Tigress. He canonically only thinks about Kagami when Ladybug isn't available. I think it's fair to say that this relationship wouldn't have lasted even if Chat Noir wasn't a thing and Adrien just had a crush on a civilian. I don't think I've seen anyone who was happy with how Adrien was written here. Same goes for Kagami who suddenly only like her image of Adrien and not the real person, a thing that came from nowhere as far as I can tell. It also gets abandoned real quick with Kagami's crush returning in season five and her being one of the only people who can see that Adrien is sad during the season four final.

Felix and Kagami - does kidnapping count as asking someone out? I guess it does in this show, in which case, Felix did the asking. He certainly was the only one who confessed! They're our dramatic thespian couple who will do anything to be together because they love each other that much. I think they're here to stay, so it's a good thing that Kagami learned to wait for the man to ask. Now she can have her happily ever after!

[nearestend]

staring at my muse roster. thinking about which one of them i would most like to see stranded in the woods with a soccer team and forced to cannibalize the team captain. putting it under the cut for all the triggers that come with y.ellowjackets (dying and death and violence and cannibalism and going insane)

orla would kind of just be the funniest option. she'd be good at it though because she canonically has legit survival skills (according to her mum anyways). still irish in this and it's never explained why or when she moved to north america. still melting stuff for her own enjoyment

idk philly though, she's a city kid at her core and extremely annoying, regardless of any au, so people probably try to attack her when they get fed up with that. but she's immediately retaliating by biting people (it's a hereditary trait from her mother's side) and then screaming at people "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DO THAT I HATED DOING THAT YOU FUCK". good at defending herself but probably bad at everything else

kate would be perfectly fine. aside from having some mental breakdown on occasion but really smart about everything and probably good at hunting. mean and bossy though

amelie would be weirdly calm and accepting of the situation. really reassuring and comforting to people during moments where they might be close to death.

alice is probably fine with it too. i mean, she'd go into deep depression but also just knows things that no one ever thinks would be useful until they actually are. she might actually be fine with killing and violence. in a way that should be concerning to everyone but no one wants to acknowledge it. she finds a way to romanticize the situation in a really fucked up way and inevitably writes the more interesting and critically acclaimed version of the survival tale

jodie would be hysterical for the most part. only really useful because she brought so many snacks, but not that helpful otherwise. eventually would learn to adapt but you know, spirals every once in awhile

amy would have a horrible time and cry a lot because she misses home and the family so much and is quite codependent. helpful with cooking and gathering supplies once she's calmed down. boosts moral by coming up with activities for distraction

lizzie could go either way. she's a bit of a wildcard here, but i think she has the potential to be quite ruthless if needed. very full of anger about current situation and all that emotional baggage she brought along

jia-yi would get manipulated into joining the cult

ginny might actually be helping run the cult. not intentionally or nefariously, but like, she's definitely experiencing visions and dreams and whatnot. unclear if they're actual omens of any kind or just wilderness hallucinations. open to interpretation

mandy is way too comfortable with killing. decides to start killing people who don't even need to be killed because she claims she's "getting rid of dead weight"

i'm not going to talk about camille because i can't imagine anything good happens in that situation. like obviously it's not good for anyone, but i really don't need to do that to her specifically

sydney is doing all the cooking. pretty mad about the fact that she can't get a variety of ingredients but learns to forage. those kids would not be eating belt soup if she was there, i can tell you that much

cameron is pissing everyone off somehow by being cameron. but they're also experimenting with trying to make useful things out of plane parts. probably crafts some type of shiv or stabbing tool but also brought their own knife

marlene is dying immediately

ellie is absolutely fine with the situation. stayed around long enough just to cannibalize marlene for "friendship" (romantic) reasons, then promptly abandoned the team to go live in the wilderness on her own. kind of happy to be there actually

teddy is playing psychological mind games and turning people against each other. ruining everyone's life and having the occasional gay affair

it wouldn't make much sense for ada to be there but it's already cannibalizing people anyways. if it were there then it would be some type of mysterious creature that is slowly hunting and killing everyone off one by one

sid is one of the teachers they got stranded with. trying to keep the kids moral up and keeping everyone safe but also helplessly watching everyone go insane in the process

obligatory connell mention even though he does not belong there. he's a gaelic football player though which is somewhat adjacent to american soccer. if there was any reason for him to be there in a way that made sense, he's the boy everyone except the lesbians have a crush on but is really embarrassed about it and kind of concerned that this is what people are focusing on instead of the not dying part

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

A Vision in the Mirror Masterpost (OOC)

Taking the same concept from my old masterpost, this one will start out with a few FAQs and follow with a plot summary of what's going on under the cut, to keep up easily! Tags for this arc include #a vision in the mirror and for previous leadup posts, #vision prelude. Posts will also be tagged with appropriate stakes for the scene/consequences of what's going on, but on average, stuff is high stakes.

What should I know going in?

Similar to my last high stakes arc, this arc will cover some sensitive topics (all of which will be tagged alongside the arc tag and stakes)! Among them are mental health topics like anxiety, paranoia, depression, suicidality and self-injury, happenings like impersonation, defamation/blackmail, violence/death, fire (natural disaster), and general philosophizing in the "are humans and Pokémon actually equal" direction. A lot of these will largely only be alluded to on here, but better safe than sorry! Feel free to block the tag if it's not for you, I'll probably have a few lower-stakes posts somewhere in there (or maybe some ask games to break stuff up).

Also, this time, not everything is going to be RP'd live on-blog. If you're interested in seeing the behind-the-scenes you're welcome to the planning server (I can shoot you a link), but it'll be a bit heavier. The reason I'm doing this is both to reduce the intensity here, and to not flood everyone's dashboards. I'll still make summary posts of what's going on and am happy to answer asks about that! And of course, Vanilla or Cross will still be liveblogging everything crucial.

How can I participate?

Honestly, just send asks! Reblog stuff! This is pretty open, though if you'd like to be involved in anything in-person, DM me so I can add you to the planning server. I'd love to hear anyone's ideas along the way!

Know also that you can be as involved as you want in this. Some parts of this event will have wider-ranging consequences (city-wide, tops) but also, I absolutely don't expect people to get involved in that unless they want to! (If you do decide to dash-commentary things, please tag it with the arc tag so I can see it? Pretty please? And also use the appropriate stakes tags?)

Who's important in this?

(Not listing my friends' blogs in this, though they're welcome to reblog!)

Vanilla: Vanilla (26, any) is the guy on the blog, a Hisuian Zorua hybrid, and probably a bit well-known for his own good at the moment. They've currently just finished their Unovan Gym Challenge (badge-gathering), and are trying to investigate what has caused their impersonation across several situations.

Colress: Colress (39, he/him) is back from wherever he was, and certainly not better than ever. His aims are unclear, but Vanilla has been keeping tabs on him via a pager gifted by Cheri, and holds some key information from his laptop. He currently has expressed intentions to reclaim his Klinklang from Rune.

Vision: A strange being (?, ??/??) who seems to be impersonating Vanilla perfectly. Believed to be tied to Colress, but in what way? Has a soft spot for Wolfgang, and has met with Cheri and Vanilla's parents.

Cross: Vanilla's Rotom, Cross (5, she/her), is a sweet, non-battling Pokémon whose main goal is Vanilla's safety. While she's normally sworn to secrecy, she'll break that in the name of saving her "boss". She's also quite nervous, pzzt.

Wolfgang: Wolfgang, or Wolfy (27, he/him) is a Hisuian Zoroark, Vanilla's half-sibling, and the father of four adorable Zorua kits with his mate, Mozart. He's currently serving as the interim leader of the Lostlorn Zoroark pack, but he's in frequent contact with Vanilla thanks to the power of cheap cell phones.

Cobalion: One of the Swords of Justice, Cobalion (many centuries, they/he) is convinced Vanilla will one day be a worthy chosen for their aims. As it is, however, they've left Vanilla to find her own answers. Unless the answers involve using the cool sword they've been gifted, in which case Cobalion is all in.

Cheri: Cheri (28, she/her) is the perpetual thorn in Vanilla's side, who also happens to be their recent ex and current "rival" after selling them out to Colress (and apologizing endlessly after the fact). A strong battler, she gifted Vanilla Chibi (formerly Fluffybutt) the Shiny Vanilluxe, and has expressed every intention of protecting Vanilla. As much as Vanilla insists he's really fine without the help.

Aspear: Aspear (28, he/him) is Cheri's twin, also a "rival" of Vanilla's, and perfectly happy to stay out of this situation, thank you.

What's the plot so far?

(Plot kept under the readmore for previously mentioned potentially triggering content.)

Prelude: After a battle with Cheri, Vanilla was bestowed with a pager Cheri had previously used to keep contact with Colress. Over the past few months, they've heard Colress speaking from the pager, but, frustratingly, nothing crucial. Lately, though, they've been hearing strange noises much like their own voice...

These strange noises seem corroborated by Wolfgang claiming to have seen somebody who looks, speaks, and even smells exactly like Vanilla, and by Cheri's own claims that she has talked to Vanilla's doppelganger.

At the same time, Colress has begun taking action, reaching out to Rune to demand the return of his Klinklang, to which he received a solid refusal. And at the same time, the Swords of Justice seem on edge...

Main Arc: Vanilla, with his increasing concern about being impersonated, begins to lower contact with others, and eventually, decides to return to their adoptive parents' home to lay low. When she finally returns, though, she learns that Maamaa, who was in her parent's care, was taken by her copycat to some unknown location. In order to figure out where, Vanilla tries working out who they're dealing with, before finally settling on making themselves distinguishable from the copy when in-person (fun fact for the summary people: what they settled on was 'way too much body spray'). This doesn't solve their problem though, and so they finally decide to try and make contact with Colress and this mystery person via Cheri's pager.

On the other side of things, we learn that this person's name is Vision, that she seems to have some sort of high title... and that she intends to be the one to respond to Vanilla's message, it seems. But what will come of that...?

[To be continued!]

[4getfulimaginator2022]

The season 3 finale of Big Sky was the most anticlimactic finale for a TV show that I've ever seen. Think of a balloon when the air is let out. It was the most jarring, disconnected mess.

I've been through many, many TV shows, including the BBC Merlin and Once Upon a Time. Those shows had some wacky finales, but they were still exciting, they brought a new element that left the story on a cliffhanger, and most of the plot threads from the current season were tied up neatly. They also made you want to keep watching the show.

I don't know what it was that I watched last night. I feel like the show didn't answer even half of the questions that it brought up during the entire season. I have a list of the questions I wanted answered and which are probably going to stay unanswered.

Why/how did Paige steal the money in the first place and why was Luke involved in the theft?

Buck is the Bleeding Heart killer but never explains why, not even to Sunny? He said he tried to do good but can't explain why he murdered innocent girls and put their hearts in jars? Wtf? Is he just a cold-blooded psychopath? What is his story or "excuse"?

Walter's murderous tendencies (hunting Luke, the backpacker) are just wiped away as if they never happened?

Why was Avery even in Montana in the first place?

Why/how did Avery agree to work with the syndicate to get part of the money?

How did Avery know about the money or Paige/Luke when he got into Sunny's camp?

Who the hell ARE Paige and Luke?

Was Walter holding Paige against her will? Did she have any real feelings for him or just manipulated him?

Why does Buck kidnap Denise and Emily? He doesn't bargain for his freedom and I'm not even sure he knew that Paige saw the heart jars. What was even the point of this? He acted like he had no clear motive?! He could have asked Sunny to come anyway?

Second, I think the show was unfair to a lot of people who were shipping the main couple because nothing happened. We're not asking for big dramatic gestures, but as far as I'm concerned, it seems like Jenny's interest in Beau was one-sided/unrequited and even if that interest was sort of returned, it was too weak to be noticeable. I would have preferred for them to just be good friends and partners instead of the writers teasing a building romantic relationship that they had no intention of pursuing. Maybe the season just wasn't long enough. At this point it seems like they are anticipating the show will not be renewed and they didn't want to upset anyone in particular, either those who don't like Jenny and Beau as a couple or those who wanted them to get together. When are writers going to learn that you can't make everyone happy and you shouldn't even try because that's bad storytelling? Pick a side, people!

I will admit I started watching Big Sky because of Jensen Ackles and his great performance in The Boys. I think the acting is good, but the scripts suck. Honestly, what even was this finale? It was action filled and yet it felt like nothing happened. There were no real stakes because nobody really got hurt except for Buck, and I even would have appreciated an ambiguous ending where we weren't sure whether the big baddie or the good guy survived.

I feel like parts of the story were taken for granted and the writers expected us to fill in the blanks ourselves without giving us any backstory or explanation. I'm afraid that just won't cut it for me. I'm not saying that I need everything to be handed to me on a platter - I can think and figure things out for myself - but I still need them to give me enough information to put together. Everything was so disconnected and motives were so unclear that the reason I should feel anxious or concerned for the characters didn't exist. Buck had no legitimate reason to kidnap those girls, and he didn't do anything with that action except ask for his wife, who wasn't in prison or under arrest. She was just under surveillance and that was it. Again, there were no real stakes here.

To me, the writers seemed tired of their own story and opted to create an ending that was the easiest for them to write. Do I sound disappointed? Good, because I wasted so much time on this show, expecting it to be thrilling and well written, and I got a season finale that was written worse than for a fantasy show. The plot threads were not tied up as they should have been, and there was only partial resolution for character arcs. The red herrings were ridiculous. Sunny was advertised as the villain of the season, and while she was involved in crimes, it didn't feel like true villainy at all. Most of the time, I thought she was boring and not fleshed out enough for me to hate or even dislike. She seemed as much of a player as any of the other characters in the story, not the villain that is supposed to stand directly opposite the hero or even anti-hero. Then Buck didn't even go to jail or do penance for all those girls and other people he killed. The serial killer tendencies are hinted at too late to make much of an impact. He was evil but not fleshed out enough to be a villain either! Why should I even care when he never said why he believed he could do what he did, knowing that it was wrong? Motivation is what makes characters evil or good. I even speculated that Buck was covering up for Cormac or they were both serial killers, a father and son duo. Anything?! You can't just say, "Oh, he's a serial killer!" and that's it. No explanation, no motivation, nothing. ALL CRIME HAS A MOTIVE. FREE WILL = MOTIVE.

Even if Big Sky gets renewed for a 4th season, I don't think I'll be watching it. Rant over.

[rusalkaandtheshepherdgirl]

A comparison of the songs Unconventional by Jessica Law and Tam Lin by the Forgetmenauts in terms of their relationship to the story of tam lin

First of all, I highly recommend anyone who hasn't listened to both to do so :)

in essence the thing is that Tam Lin is a more faithful retelling with an emphasis on the happy ending while Unconventional is an in media res* story about the emotions of being left behind by a Tam Lin figure

Tam Lin is on the Forgetmenauts's album Bestiary, which is heavily inspired by folklore and each song generally has both an explicit "monster" (werewolf etc) and a more implied monster.

Unconventional is on Jessica Law's (new!!!!) album Ghostwatching which has a bit of an overarching narrative that, to completely oversimplify, follows the classic romance formula of meet dramatically, fall apart, and get back together. It has a strong folklore theme as well.

Tam Lin starts after separation from him, but he does appear after a rose is plucked. The Fairy Queen then comes to take him away (and probably kill him) but he is rescued by the narrator holding him close. The final two verses repeat how "though death do us part I will never let you go," thus pulling off the happy ending. The past tense used throughout the song shows that all of this has fallen into the past.

On a bit of a different note, Unconventional recounts how the narrator used to be incredibly excited to see the unnamed Tam Lin figure, but now their love is mentally gone. The final verse has the narrator begging over and over for them to return. Death is referenced here as well but it's "one of these days we'll all be in graves so it doesn't matter that you're mad / it means nothing, absolutely nothing / please come back" which is obviously a rather different tone. Notably, this song takes place when the lover has not been recovered from their enthrallment pickle.

Similarities between the two songs include the Tam Lin figure having hollow or vacant eyes to show how they are being taken away by the woman who has magically stolen them ("the lover, the captor of my darling Tam Lin" and "i heard tell you left me at the goblin hair / she has you, you are still there" from Tam Lin and Unconventional respectively) and who means them ill ("she wears the bones of her lovers / and their blood on her gown" and "pay the tithe to hell" which of course means human sacrifice in context of the ballad).

Both of the songs also leave out parts of the original story; Tam Lin removes the pregnancy of the narrator from the equation (as well as the implication of rape, which I read something super interesting about a bit back) while Unconventional leaves the entire beginning out and replaces the physical barrier between the narrator and their lover with a more mental/emotional one.

Both make sure to leave in the transformation scene, which is excellent because imo it's the best part of the story. However, the difference is that it has happened and has been successful in Tam Lin, while in Unconventional the narrator is pleading with their lover to "just say I can" and it is left unclear whether it will ultimately occur or not (although the overarching narrative suggests to me that it didn't).

In conclusion, they both use the tale of Tam Lin to create emotional, compelling narratives in their folk-inspired songs, although the overall effect and details diverge wildly, which makes their interpretations very interesting (at least to me).

*in media res is Latin for "in the middle of things" and a phrase I'm inordinately fond of

[starfallskitter]

The Guardian Alya Theory

Hi! Didn't expect to be writing Miraculous theory again so quickly, but I have an idea in my head that I needed to get out there. So hear me out.

Warning: major spoilers for Season 4 all throughout this theory. Specifically Gang of Secrets, Optigami, Truth, Furious Fu, Mr Pigeon 72... just, most of them.

In short, the theory is this: Marinette will discover that she can't be both Ladybug and the Guardian at the same time, and will make Alya the Guardian. Marinette's memory will be wiped and she will spend a few episodes re-learning how to be Ladybug, and re-learning Chat Noir, which will obviously change their relationship.

This means Alya will know who Chat Noir is. And I think, for a brief time before her memory is wiped, Marinette will know as well. Meaning: temporary one-sided reveal!

Now, here's all the evidence, below the cut.

There's a fundamental problem with Ladybug and the Guardian being the same person. There's the stress it places on Marinette, sure, and the Guardian certainly can have a Miraculous and use it, but the problem is right here:

Someone has to be the link between civilian identities, and right now Plagg and Tikki are the only ones who know- and that's useless when both heros are transformed. The Guardian needs to know the identity of both Ladybug and Chat Noir. And if there's one thing that the show has absolutely beaten into us by now...

It's that they can't know each others.

So, there's a fundamental tension here. Marinette is currently putting all of her focus on being the Guardian, on working with the kwamis and figuring things out about the Miracle Box; and as her plans increasingly involve her role as Guardian, using kwamis or the fact that Alya knows her civilian identity, she's not quite being Ladybug properly. She's not doing right by Chat Noir, because now, as her plans are increasingly involving things she as Marinette and/or she as the Guardian have access to, and Chat Noir is not knowingly included in either of those, he is being ousted. It turns out she still needs him (or Plagg, in Mr Pigeon 72) for her plans, but her relationship with him is suffering.

He says in Truth that he doesn't mind her being the Guardian as long as it doesn't change things between them:

Except it is changing, and it has been bothering him. Just look at his face when he realises (or more accurately, assumes) the akuma has been defeated without him in Optigami:

He is not happy.

I'm sure I don't need to tell anyone at this point that Ladybug is ousting Chat Noir and he's upset by it. At this point in the series he's doing okay about it, still managing to keep up a front and hoping this is temporary. Which, according to this theory, it is. Honestly, no matter how this goes, it's not going to make Chat happy, because in this theory, the ending won't please him. We'll get to that.

So Marinette can't be Guardian and Ladybug at the same time. So, she has to give one up.

She may try to give up being Ladybug, but I'm not convinced this will happen. She may try to give over guardianship to Su Han, but I'm also not convinced by this- it's not narratively interesting and seems to contradict the conclusion of Furious Fu. So, what might she do?

Well, there's a clear answer. Someone who's already helping figure out important features of the Miraculouses, who was able to figure out a whole new power of the Ladybug Miraculous:

And who has good investigative powers to reveal more secrets? Who is already heavily invested in the superheros? Who already knows that Marinette is Ladybug and is already helping her?

And who has Marinette possibly already said she's training up to be Guardian?

Now, whether she's reffering to being Ladybug or being the Guardian here is unclear. I've seen most interpretations suggesting she means Ladybug, and from the wording in this case it honestly seems like both; but it could definitely be either. And in the context of this theory, if we assume she means Guardian, then it's clear that Marinette is already noticing that Alya would make a good Guardian.

So, let's put the pieces together.

Premise: Ladybug and Chat Noir cannot know each other's identity until this Hawkmoth is defeated. Premise: The Guardian must know both Ladybug and Chat Noir's identity. Conclusion: Ladybug and the Guardian cannot be the same person at this point in time. (Chat Noir can't be either).

Premise: Ladybug and the Guardian cannot be the same person at this point in time. Premise: Alya would be a good Guardian. Premise: Marinette either will not, or should not, give up being Ladybug. Conclusion: Marinette will make Alya the Guardian.

There are two complications with this plan. One is in Alya being the Guardian, and one is in Marinette giving it up.

The complication with Alya being the guardian is that Hawkmoth knows her identity. He knows she's Rena Rouge, and as of Optigami knows that Rena Rouge is special as opposed to the other holders. This appears to not be stopping Marinette giving her the Miraculous, but obviously, based on the events of late season 3, it's more of a complication in her being the Guardian. She has, like, parents, and can't hide like Master Fu could.

A possible solution is some kind of trickery, in which they make it look like Alya has lost her miraculous, and make it seem like Ladybug's still the Guardian. I mean, Alya's miraculous is illusion-based, and this could be interesting if it's post one-sided reveal discussed below. I'm sure there are other solutions as well, but off the top of my head I'd assume that would be the plan. Perhaps the Box is camoflaged such that finding out what of Alya's is the Miracle Box at all would be a challenge. There's a lot of possibility.

The other complication: Marinette would lose all memory of the Miraculouses.

Now, it's presumed here that the way the memory loss works is that it happens every time (and it's not like the appearance of the box, or kwamis being in/out of it, in that it's a factor of what the owner believes), and that the memory loss only applies to the Miraculouses and the kwamis and all of that, and doesn't affect other memories- which seems to be Fu's experience of it, after all. He doesn't remember Marinette because he only ever knew her as Ladybug, but he seemed to remember the unrelated Marianne fine.

This means that if Marinette loses guardianship, she'll remember Alya, Adrien, her family, etc... but nothing about Ladybug, Chat Noir, Hawkmoth, Tikki, any of that.

Which means:

-She'll have to spend some amount of time re-learning how to be Ladybug, who Chat Noir is, etc. all of that. Chat Noir will probably be able to fill her in on all of this, and so will Alya and Tikki, so it won't take so long.

-She gets a total reset on her relationship with Chat Noir. Which I highly doubt he'll be happy with- but it might change her view of him. I say it might change her view of him because mainly, while their relationship has been pretty consistent, she definitely is starting to like him more in this season, seeing him differently- and I largely think that that's due to a change in circumstance, as Marinette can only trust so many people in her life:

But I think an important part of Adrien's character recently is that we've seen less dichotomy between Adrien and Chat Noir. His true personality is a little of both, but he puts both on to play various roles; but honestly, I've noticed some more of Adrien in Chat Noir, and some more of Chat Noir in Adrien. He's being more honest with himself around some people, the self we only really see him being with Plagg, which he was trying to be with Kagami and is increasingly being with Marinette. It's hard to provide specific examples, though.

But if Marinette's first impressions of Chat Noir are just a touch more Adrien-like than they were, perhaps her feelings towards him will change- without losing that aspect of trust. I know I'm being very vague here, but there's a lot of potential and it'll take a lot more episodes of this season than we've seen to predict how this might go.

It's also possible that Marinette will remember Chat Noir when she met him as Marinette. Then we might get some great Marichat, or her only having knowledge of him as that boy who came to her ledge or she fake-dated. Which would be interesting. It's not totally clear how this will work if it occurs, so it's up to the writers really.

So that situation provides a lot of angst: Ladybug forgetting Chat Noir. But what comes before her forgetting Chat Noir could be something really interesting. After all, if the Guardian must know Chat Noir's identity, perhaps Marinette will try that first. Adrien will, of course, trust her completely.

Cue at least one episode where Marinette knows that Chat Noir and Adrien are the same person (while Adrien not knowing the reverse). Cue Ladrien. And, right after that, an episode that revolves around Ladybug erasing those memories. While Alya knows everything that just happened. And that Chat Noir is Adrien. And she can't tell Marinette this as she has to re-teach her how to be Ladybug. Honestly, if any character knows what we as the audience know about the Love Square, it makes perfect sense that it's Alya.

In conclusion: angsty season finale that ends with Alya knowing everything, Chat Noir Very Upset, Ladybug getting a memory reset, and just generally everything changing? It's more likely than you think.

[myheartisbro-ken]

you mentioned in a comment on a supercorp fic (i feel like a stalker, yikes) that you got in contact with darren doyle and he gave you some tips on using kryptahniuo, the sentence structure, the krius thing, etc.. would you mind sharing them? because i feel like i've sucked all available resources dry, and as a huge kryptonian nerd, i'd really appreciate it! (ofc, feel free to ignore me and pretend like this never existed if i'm intruding or unknowingly acting like a jerk.)

Okay, soooo, this is all from 3 years ago and I don’t have the best way to make myself clear when talking to people, but I’m gonna put here the things that are relevant and cut out my cringey communication. This is also for anyone who writes and would like to know a lil bit more about the language, or just people who enjoy conlangs. The vocab is over at kryptonian.info, but this is a clearer explanation of some things I had a bit of trouble with.

It’s pretty long though, so strap in.

Here we go:

Me: I was kind of having a hard time trying to figure out what the present form of zhao would be since it already ends with an 'o' and the present suffix is 'odh', I wanted to say 'I love you' with zhao , and on your page I could only find the ukiem sentence. Would it be zhaodh? And how would the full sentence be? What about shovuh, would it be shovuhodh?

Doyle: Sweet! I'm glad to help (I only wish the writers of the show would help instead of butchering the grammar ... and pronunciation)

Ok ... give me a moment to work on this...

Ok ... /zhao/ ... this doesn't end in /o/ (as in go) it ends in /ao/ (as in cow) which is a different vowel. Even if it did, though, you would still go ahead and use the /odh/ suffix. Two vowels in a row in Kryptonian is going to be super rare (pun intended), but in those cases Kryptonian phonetics will use a slight "w" sound to separate the vowels.

So ... it would be /zhaoodh/which would be 3 characters in Kryptonian writing: zh + ao + odhSo, your sentences would be: /zhaoodh (khuhp) w rraop/ and /shovuhodh (khuhp) w rraop/The subject is optional

Also, this is a sentence that would likely be gendered (familiar and/or intimate speech)

So, "I (female) love you (male)." would be: /zhaoodh (khap) w rrup/

BUT

Let's talk about informal speech, because the I love you stuff gets weird ...

zhao and shovuh are primarily nouns, but at some point they got codified as type 1 verbs (taking suffixes)... and grammatically (especially formal writing) type 1 is kind of the "proper" way to use them. But in day-to-day speech, these usually get treated as type 2 verbs (no suffix)

I should back pedal briefly and say that all this applies to /ukiem/ (familial love) ... and actually to /:jev/ (n. happiness, joy) with /:jevodh/ meaning essentially "like" or "enjoy"

So anyway, the informal variant ends up as something like /zhao w rrup/ (you would almost never use the subject with the type 2 forms of these words) Total side topic ... (hope I'm not overwhelming you here) ...

Since type 2 verbs mark tense with a vowel change, there is an interesting result with /zhao/ ... since the past and future versions end up being /zha/ and /zhi/ respectively which also just happen to be the words for "yes" and "no" which also act as augmentative and diminutive markers...

It's a bit of a chicken and egg situation as it's unclear if the "will love/did love" meanings gave rise to the "yes/no" meanings or if the existing "yes/no" words guided the vowel shift as /zhao/ went from noun > v1 > v2

Me: Okay, first, in the verb section of your page you say that not using a suffix creates the potential form of the verb, yet there is a prefix, kai, for potential, so if someone were to ask 'can you do...' say, 'can you speak/say this' would it need the prefix and then the present suffix, or just not use either. Like, would it be 'ta-kai-ehworodh rraop w [thing]' or 'ta-kai-ehwor' or just 'ta-ehwor' or is all of that completely dumb and I totally misunderstood everything? (I'm also not sure when I should and shouldn't use the hyphen) And the second is simpler, I guess: going by 'us-kah' as like a petname for your child, would the same apply to a parent, such as saying 'jeju-te' in sort of the same way kids say 'mommy' and not just expressing relationship. And could that apply to a person's name as well? Like, idk if that works in english, but say you have a nickname for someone and then you say 'that's MY [nickname]', (I do that for my aunt in portuguese, which is why I'm asking)

Doyle: Dang ... the "suffixless form of the verb forms the potential" is actually a holdover from an idea when I first started making the language that eventually got abandoned. Thought I removed references to it, but I missed that I guess.

Hyphens are just there to help show the morpheme breaks when explaining the language. If you are just writing Kryptonian, then you wouldn't use them at all.

so /?takaieworodh rraop ki kryptahniuo/ would be correct

Ok ... the "familial-possessive-honorifics" ...

They kind of act like an honirific (Mr., Mrs., Sir, Ma'am, Señor, Señorita, San, Sama etc.)

They attach using the proper noun punctuation...

So ... Kal-El => /kal,ehl/

Mr. Kal-El => /kal,ehl,jran/

(I'm not related it Kal-El)

Let me start over on that last one

I am talking to you about Mr. Kal-El, I would say ...

* (neither of us is related to him): /kal,ehl,jran/

* (I am related to him, but you aren't): /kal,ehl,te/

* (we are both related to him): /kal,ehl,kah/

* (I am not related to him, but you are): /kal,ehl,ni/

* (Neither of us is related to him, but we are talking about someone who is related to him and that relationship is pertinent to the conversation): /kal,ehl,cheh/

So in that sense, these are honorifics ... they are more formal, not less

so ... us,kah for a child probably wouldn't end up being a pet name

and it means "our" child ... so even less likely in that sense (us,te would be "my child")

and it uses the less intimate gender-neutral form

wait ... scratch that ... /us/ is masculine (derp derp)

so, a more likely candidate for a pet name for your child would probably be /us kir/ (little boy) or /is kir/ little girl

you could also do something clever like /krius/ or /kriis/ (that second word would be pronounced "kree-yees") ... borrowing the "bright" prefix and applying it to the child noun

For Kryptonians that wouldn't have as much of the meaning that an English speaker would assign to "bright" (smart, clever, etc), but more of a sense of "joyful", "pleasant", "you-light-up-the-room" kind of sense.

An English equivalent to /krius/ would be something like when you refer to someone as "my little ray of sunshine"

getting back to your actual question ...  

/jeju,te/ and /ukr,te/ would also be more formal. Kids (especially older kids) would be expected to use this form in public when addressing parents

but at home it would probably be just /jeju/ and /ukr/

for the very youngest kids, /jeje/ would be "mommy", and /uku/ (or even /kuku/) would be "daddy" ... but, unlike some dialects of English (especially in the Southern states), those variants wouldn't last very long as kids would be encouraged to use /jeju/ and /ukr/ as their speech developed

So ... ummm ... I'm not sure if I've answered your actual question ... if I have, I may have indicated the opposite... Kryptonians would remove the "my" on a petname ... does that sound right ... hmmm ... thinking about it

Shoot ... I guess I don't really know how to give you a solid answer on that one. Pet names can be funny things, I think ... because even in English I can see formal titles being absorbed as "cute" ... like having a little fluffy dog that you pick up and in a cutesy voice call "Sir Snuggles"

so ... armed with the info for "normal" speech/grammar ... pick whatever feels right to you!

Me: The first I wanted to ask is if 'Awuhkhu zhadif khap w rrip' is correct for 'I'll never leave you'

And the second I tried to make it out, but the result looked weird so I was just very unsure about (while the other I'm a bit more confident about) so how would 'please don't leave me' be, cuz 'please don't' is a full prefix, right? so it'd be 'please don't' prefix + leave + present suffix and then the pronoun separately. By that logic it'd be 'sozhaoawuhkhodh khap' is that correct?

Now there's actually a third one that I don't even know where to begin (mostly because I didn't try too hard) but I wanted to know would you say the sentence 'she left me alone' or 'my mother left me alone'?

Doyle:

/.awuhkhu zhadif khap w rrip/ ... yep, that's correct!  

/sozhaoawuhkhodh khap/ ... yep, that's right too

or you might go with the future tense, especially if those two sentences are going together

/sozhaoawuhkhu khap/

actually ... whoops... /khap/ is the object of the sentence...

/sozhaoawuhkhu w khap/

Let's see for "she left me alone", I would use the malefactive and the past tense of "to go" (which I just realized wasn't in the dictionary - doh!).

So ... let's see... go+past-perf she w me mal.

hmmm... alone, though ...

cause/PST she be/PRS me w alone ki go/PST/PRG ... ?

/podh zhehd nahn khap w chahvymah ki rrosh/ (that last verb wouldn't take a suffix, derp) ... "She made me alone by going" ... hmmm...

You could always just use /podh zhehd nahn khap w chahvymah/ ... she cause me to be alone ... that's probably the closest to the English 

So that’s it, so much information that I thought it was actually a longer convo

[robotslenderman]

Ok, so I've played VTMNR a few times now, and I've noticed something which I think is interesting. Near the end of the book, if you've romanced Lettow and choose to fight the SI with him, you'll have the opportunity to kiss him in the hallway. If you decide to kiss him again, or just return to the room with him, there will be one retainer left. Depending on your relationship with Lettow, he'll act differently here. If your Lettow/Camarilla relationship is moderate (3 dots), he'll become cool and composed in front of the retainer. Additionally, he'll touch your wrist in a lingering way, which you realize he's doing in order to check your watch. If your Camarilla relationship is high (5 dots), the part about about him being "cool and collected, even in the presence of a single retainer he is the Eagle Prince" is not mentioned, and Lettow will touch your face instead. In my opinion, the nature of the relationship is more unclear in the 3dot interaction. Personally, I find that it feels more manipulative (though I'm probably not clever enough to explain why). With 5 dots, I follow him to Egypt everytime, but with 3 dots I still follow him. I'm just much more wary about how "happy" their relationship will be. Will he sacrifice my character to the Sabbat if needed? Who knows! Although, really, who's to say you're not being played by him the entire story, even with a full relationship meter.

Another variation I've noticed is during the confrontation with Donati when Lettow flutters up the steps, he will A) see you and force himself to stand, B) stand (because he's an elder), or C) rise to his hands and knees, but is too weak to get up more. I'm not sure what the trigger is for whichever action he takes (or if there are more variants of this), but my more moderate relationship characters got either scenario A or B, while my high relationship character got scenario C. When I played through it, I personally liked scenario C the best because to me, it feels like he trusts the main character enough that he's willing to afford a moment of weakness around them. Afterall, he's still able to attack Donati no matter if you get A, B, or C, so he's clearly not that close to the brink of death.

While I love Lettow and his romance, I'm pretty confused by it all. First of all, I don't really understand his character or ambitions too well. Despite how friendly and trusting he seems in the the first chapter (showing you Jasper's death? Why?), he's suspicious of the courier from the start (if you spy on Carlos in the parking garage, he'll reveal that Lettow thinks you might be an SI agent). And I don't think that suspicion ever goes away, it just evolves. He dismisses the idea that you're SI, but then he thinks you're allied with *potential diablerist* Julian (even if you aren't) then quickly seems to realize it's you (maybe by sensing her in your blood?). He continues to suspect you, until he seems to REALIZE realize that you diablerized Aila. Before the final confrontation between you, Julian, and Lettow, there's a moment where Lettow is reading his book and asks you in a tired, soft voice "I need to know why you--". He never gets to finish that thought, but I'm pretty sure he's asking why you killed her. However, after the warehouse meeting, Lettow decides to spare both you and Julian?? Because he's tired and lonely?? I dont get it, what's his agenda? Why spare them? From what I know, the traditions say that killing/diablerizing a fellow vampire is punishable by death, so isn't Lettow actively going against the Camarilla? I can kinda understand if he doesn't want to kill the player character, since he thinks Aila is in our veins, and he's potentially formed some sort of attachment to us (though I think at this point, Julian's formula has completely eradicated any traces of Aila from our blood, so surely Lettow can detect that?). However, I can't really understand why he spares Julian. Maybe he does it because the author wants to highlight that Lettow is a rare breed of kindred, one that's truly benevolent with a high humanity, but that's the only reason I can think of. Really, I'm just not sure what type of person Lettow is, or what his game is. Julian is clearly depicted as being pretty manipulative and as having these huge ambitions that he needs the courier to help him achieve, but I don't think that's true for Lettow. Asides from running packages, he doesn't really benefit from them (asides from the whole "maybe Aila's reincarnated" thing). So maybe he's manipulating the player at this super high level, but you know, maybe he's just actually a great, merciful person (except he did actually kill a ventrue in his court for having conspired to diablerize Invidia Caul. So what's up with that?)

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read this monster of an ask, and please let me know what you think!

THANK YOU ANON FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL ASK.

TL;DR at the bottom!

If your Lettow/Camarilla relationship is moderate (3 dots), he'll become cool and composed in front of the retainer. Additionally, he'll touch your wrist in a lingering way, which you realize he's doing in order to check your watch. If your Camarilla relationship is high (5 dots), the part about about him being "cool and collected, even in the presence of a single retainer he is the Eagle Prince" is not mentioned, and Lettow will touch your face instead. In my opinion, the nature of the relationship is more unclear in the 3dot interaction.

Honestly, personally? I just write this off as him not trusting you nearly as well. "Lingering" suggests he *wants* to touch you, but the biggest giveaway is that he doesn't seem to have the need to check your watch at all in the five dot one (if I’m understanding you correctly). That tells me that with five dots, he just openly wants to touch you and isn't afraid to show it (aww), but with three dots he's a little more reluctant and is just *pretending* to check your watch.

He's got walls up in three dots he doesn't in five.

Another variation I've noticed is during the confrontation with Donati when Lettow flutters up the steps, he will A) see you and force himself to stand, B) stand (because he's an elder), or C) rise to his hands and knees, but is too weak to get up more. I'm not sure what the trigger is for whichever action he takes (or if there are more variants of this), but my more moderate relationship characters got either scenario A or B, while my high relationship character got scenario C. When I played through it, I personally liked scenario C the best because to me, it feels like he trusts the main character enough that he's willing to afford a moment of weakness around them.

That's my exact same impression too -- there's trust with five dots that doesn't exist with three.

Despite how friendly and trusting he seems in the the first chapter (showing you Jasper's death? Why?), he's suspicious of the courier from the start (if you spy on Carlos in the parking garage, he'll reveal that Lettow thinks you might be an SI agent).

Okay I actually do have thoughts on this.This gets a little bit beside the point of your ask, so bear with me.

Regarding Jasper -- all I can say is, "Why NOT show you Jasper's death"? He doesn't have any reason NOT to show you. It doesn't make him vulnerable for you to know that Jasper is dead, or how he died. It doesn’t give the Courier any kind of edge against him. So Lettow has nothing to lose and everything to gain (your trust) by making you think you’re important enough that you get to watch the video.

Regarding Lettow thinking you're an SI agent -- I know this isn't the point of your ask but I do have thoughts on that, so please humour me for a moment before I go back to your point --

There's something very subtle in VTMNR that is never shown outright. It's very, very subtle but if you think about it, there's a really big reason why Lettow could think you're an SI agent despite being a vampire.

Think about it. Lettow himself points out that he's the only Prince that is as paranoid as he is about the SI, and yet Tucson is swarming with their agents. All the other Princes are emailing and texting and they're not dealing with the SI to nearly the degree Lettow has.

So what's the difference between Lettow and those Princes?

Lettow has an Autarkis in his Domain who's constantly blowing the Masquerade, that's why!

Who keeps calling you and speaking openly about being Kindred?

Julian.

Who keeps pinging the SI in his phone calls, forcing you to switch phones over and over?

Julian.

Who keeps loudly saying things like "WE CAN'T LET ANYONE KNOW WE'RE VAMPIRES" potentially in earshot of the SI, who you KNOW are watching you?

Julian.

Julian flaunts the Masquerade CONSTANTLY. And in doing so, he makes Lettow a target, because Lettow’s the guy in charge of the area!

So what has this got to do with Lettow thinking you're an agent of the SI? I have to admit, I can't quite connect the dots here, but I think it goes back to Julian once again. Julian's operating under his nose. Julian doesn't give a fuck about the Masquerade. Julian has links to you. I wouldn't be surprised if those factors, combined perhaps with stuff happening behind the scenes that the Courier never sees, is why Lettow at first believes you're an agent of the SI.

Basically -- Lettow sees Julian pulling shit, and at first thinks it’s because he’s part of the SI. Lettow sees you have connections to Julian (or perhaps the other way around) and thinks that because of that you have connections to the SI as well.

Later, Lettow does admit the idea is ridiculous, because he sarcastically tells Dove (paraphrased) “why yes, I’m sure that this vampire isn’t helping the vampire hunters.”

(I also believe that Julian is the one that actually SENT the video of Jasper's death to Lettow. I honestly can't think of any other explanation as to who it can be from. Obfuscate doesn't work with electronic devices, indicating the video has been doctored to hide Julian, and who would do that except Julian himself, especially since he tells us that he has video editing skills? Julian knew that Jasper was recording, but didn't wipe the video or take the camera to erase evidence of his crime. So who else but Julian sent that video?)

Anyway, moving on --

Before the final confrontation between you, Julian, and Lettow, there's a moment where Lettow is reading his book and asks you in a tired, soft voice "I need to know why you--". He never gets to finish that thought, but I'm pretty sure he's asking why you killed her. However, after the warehouse meeting, Lettow decides to spare both you and Julian?? Because he's tired and lonely?? I dont get it, what's his agenda? Why spare them?

My impression is that it was just that -- because he was tired and lonely.

At first he lets you live because his couriers are dropping like flies and he needs every one he can get. And as the story goes on, he gets tireder and tireder until he seems on the brink of succumbing to torpor himself. (Bitch is 200 years old and whining about how old he is even though he had an 800YO girlfriend!) At the end of the story, he's exhausted.

And he's also quite clearly severely depressed. And apathy is a strong symptom of depression.

So yeah. I think he spares both the courier and Julian simply because he's too tired and depressed to give a flying fuck any more. Aila's gone, killing the courier won't bring her back. What's the point in killing them? What's the point in killing Julian, when he demonstrates several times he thinks Julian is no threat? (He's wrong, but he clearly underestimates Julian -- he tells Julian that the Masquerade will survive Julian, and he tells Dove that Julian is "just an Anarch.")

I also think his feelings regarding Aila herself are complicated -- it must HURT to survive someone who died via what's essentially suicide. He knows Aila was suicidal. He must have complicated feelings regarding that -- feelings like he wasn't enough, feelings like maybe she didn't love him as much as he loved her.

So yeah. I think he was too tired and lonely and too devastated to care about enacting justice against either of them. I think he just wanted to put it behind him. Run away to the Middle East, let it go, put it behind him, never think about it again.

As for Lettow’s agenda itself?

I’m not going to say he can’t be manipulative. But I do believe he isn’t as manipulative as the other Princes, and that he sincerely does want to do better than they do.

The biggest evidence in support of this, if nothing else, is that Lettow is Gangrel. Gangrel, as a rule, don’t do political bullshit. They tend not to participate in the Jyhad. They tend to be loners, and they often don’t raise their own childer -- so they (often) lack a mentor/mentee relationship that other clans have, meaning that nobody was there to mentor them in ways to survive, let alone thrive, in political bullshit.

So that means Lettow would be drastically inexperienced in manipulation and bullshit outside of what he’d have seen as a mortal aristocrat, and would also probably be way less tolerant of political bullshit than other Kindred. He doesn’t have Dominate to help him. He doesn’t have Presence to help him. Just a magic bird, his own shapeshifting skills and what his friends can give him.

Remember that Lettow became Prince because there was literally nobody else available. He said so himself that he basically stepped into the job because there was nobody else -- he was the one that killed the old Prince (and in a rather extra way, no less) and there were no other Elders in the area.

Plus, by this stage, Aila was dead and he wanted to hunt down her murderers. Or, if I have my timelines incorrect, she was in torpor and therefore vulnerable and in need of protection.

What better way to do that than with the resources a Prince had at his disposal?

I don’t think it’s a complete coincidence that he stopped being a Prince on the same night that he finally confronted her killer.

TL;DR --

Lettow doesn't trust the Courier as much if their relationship with the Camarilla isn't great.

Lettow underestimates Julian, and doesn't think he's a threat at all, even though it's almost certainly Julian that drew the SI to Tucson like flies to honey.

By the end of the story, Lettow is deeply depressed, apathetic, and on the border of succumbing to torpor and ennui himself because of that, and so literally doesn't care enough any more about bringing Julian and the Courier to justice.

Unlike other Princes, Lettow is from a clan that typically is separate from all this political bullshit, has no social Disciplines, and had a motive to be Prince in that his lover was dead and he wanted to find her killer with any resources he could get to be at his disposal. So I truly believe that while he may feel the need to be manipulative from time to time, he truly did want just what was best for the Kindred around him.

[jisunwithtaeandkookie]

Can You Keep A Secret? Pt.14

Summary: Your close friend Taehyung, shares a secret with you, a big secret: You have had a crush on Jimin for the past 6 years. But what he doesn't know is that you have done something bigger than that, something that could destroy many people's lives in seconds. That's a secret for you to keep. But something even bigger is floating in the air: what you have done could destroy BTS's friendship forever...but that's a secret even you don't know yourself.

Pairing: Reader × Jimin/Taehyung ft. Other Members

Genre: Angst (with slight humor)

It was all because of that blog.

"I think it was her..." I heard hushed voices from one of the two girls standing behind me. Despite the fact that there were people standing in the aisle other than me, I knew they were talking about me, and it was mainly because of two reasons: one, they gave me a sceptical look when I passed by them, and two, they were around the same age as me. It all had started with the blog, which, by the way, was recommended to me by Google last night. I know I have said this before, but still...life had a funny way of working out for me.

It was all because of this blog.

7 Things You Need To Notice In The 'Fake Love' MV

And I am not saying you haven't...you probably have. But.. since no one was sure, I went out and researched a little, and found out some pretty interesting things regarding our boys in the new MV following the pretty debatable topic of a chain of events occurring right before the newest release by BTS. For the people who believe it to be a disagreement between the boys caused by the betrayal of some girl...you are pretty right. For some still unclear reasons, it was a dramatic scene between the group, and yes, a girl was involved in it. It was pretty much centered around the vocal line: to be more precise, the maknae line. The most fascinating thing about this is that the reactions of the boys are directly related to their roles in the MV of Fake Love. Today we are going to look at how the boys reacted to it through the MV. You guessed it: 7 members, 7 things to notice.

Jin's Protective Stance: Jin was somehow indirectly involved in the fight involving the girl and the group. As the oldest member of the group, we all can imagine what his reaction was like: he acted as a mediator, trying to calm everything down peacefully. He is believed to have a soft spot for the girl, and naturally, he tried to take the girl's side, even though it did not work out in the end anyway. In the MV, he replicates this by trying to protect a flower inside a glass case (symbolising the girl), but it gets ruined in the end.

Suga's Apathy: Yoongi, more commonly known as Suga, also had an indirect relation to the fight between the members. But unlike Jin, he was against the girl, the main reason being that he cares about the group and wanted to stay silent in the whole process for everyone's greater good. In the MV, he can be seen with his cold glare and his brief but slightly rueful smile while a fire is bursting out beside him.

J-Hope's Desperation: As a member of both the dance line and the rap line, J-Hope always strives for the happiness and unity of the members. He was frustrated by the group's disagreement and can be seen duplicating the frustration by tugging at the door in the MV. After the aforementioned fight, he was the one who was as always desperate to take the group back to its happy days. In the video, he is lying amidst a jungle of rides and snacks which are symbolic to a happy place.

RM's Care For Jungkook: The maknae of the group, apparently, had a big role in causing the fight that broke out a few months ago, and being the caring person that he is, RM was the first one to go after him. In the MV, he can be seen trying to touch his reflection in the mirror, except it is Jungkook standing at the other end of it.

Jimin's Depression: Jimin was the one of the two members to be 'betrayed', and he shows that through his extremely sad persona that he adopted during the MV. He is also seen standing quietly in the middle of a room which is slowly getting flooded by water coming from both sides from behind him. It's as if he doesn't care anymore.

V's Everything: V, more commonly known as Taehyung among ARMYs, is the second member in the 'betrayal' series, and he doesn't hold back in the MV: everything he does symbolises the pain he went through during the fight. From his phone turning into sand, to his 4D glare at the screen, to even the SAVE ME written on the wall in front of him, everything directly shows us his feelings. Another mentionable thing is how he is alone in the MV....yes, everyone is alone in the video at some point, but except the dance scenes, V is never shown to be anywhere near any other member of the group. Instead he is in a dark cave: he is ALONE alone.

Jungkook's Guilt: Jungkook, according to some sources, had a major role in actually causing the drama among the group, and he obviously feels guilty about that. We can see that through his actions in the MV. He is watching over the members secretly, to check if they are happy. He is also shown holding sand, symbolising the relationship between the group after the drama, while hearts are flying out of it, symbolising the mended relationship and his true desires. In the end, he is shown to enter a dark place which comes out suddenly, presumably because of his gnawing guilt.

With everything said, I just wanted to say that I am glad the boys are okay, and I sincerely hope they stay that way. You all are free to not believe it: after all, this is just a speculation based on my research, it might not be true anyways. Also, what happened, or why it happened is still unclear. I am not going to say anything about the girl's identity...because I don't want to ruin anyone's life. (Let's just say that some people might have seen her around the group...or the maknae line.) Another thing I wanted to say: this MV is not just built out of a frustration of the fight, it does have connections to the alternate universe thing they have got going on. It just doesn't hurt to kill two birds with one stone, you know.....they are not famous for nothing anyway, right?

I sighed as I recalled the contents of the blog. Amazing.

"Is it really her..?" I heard the other girl speak, and I turned around. Without looking at any one of them, I left the aisle, leaving the store altogether.

And I didn't even get what I came here for. This was not going to be good for me at all.

On my way home, I took a different route which passed through a rather quieter area than my usual path. You can probably guess why. As far as I knew, it was not going downhill anytime soon; in fact, it was still going uphill, even though I had thought it had reached its peak. But hey, what do you know, when it comes down to bad luck.....it's me, the luckiest girl in the world, right?

Fake Love...were the lyrics also about me?

Immersed in my thoughts, I almost collided with a girl who was walking in the opposite direction. "Sorry about that." I said, embarrassed.

Instead of replying, she frowned. "You have been here before, haven't you?" I looked around. The Teddy Bear shop. Great. "I have seen you before around here. With-"

"You know what, I've really gotta go." I said and hurried past her, ignoring her feeble "Oh, okay", before she could figure anything else out.

I felt like I was at a risk of being caught anywhere. Even though I didn't know what would actually happen if I was, but something told me I didn't want to find out.

Almost jogging till I reached the end of the road, I put my leg forward to go across, frowning. You're being totally paranoid Y/N. It might be that not many people had read the blog. It might be possible that the girl from before didn't know about the blog, she just recognised me from the place?

I was suddenly yanked back to the side of the road, as a car passed by the spot I was just standing on. Do that a couple more times, Y/N, and you'll end up killing yourself before any of the ARMYs get to you anyway. "Oh my God," I whispered to myself.

"Are you okay-"

"Y/N-ah?" I heard this voice coming from a few steps away, and breaking out of the grasp of my saviour, I turned around and took a few slow steps towards him. "Jungkook..." I said, my gaze transfixed on him.

He gave a little laugh. "So we're on a full name basis now?" I didn't reply, and he sighed. "It's okay, I don't think we're that close anymore anyway." He added, very slowly.

"Kook!" I exclaimed.

He looked unsure. "You lied to me, Chocolate. You said you didn't come to the airport."

I gasped. "Oh my God....you know?" I had unintentionally lied to my best friend. Great.

"Of course he does." I heard from behind Jungkook, and we both looked at Tae coming up slowly towards us. "Tae.." I whispered, my eyes becoming a little moist at remembering what I had done to him, all of my feelings rushing back to me...what I felt for him, how I had hurt him, everything.

He looked at me for one long second, scaring me with his blank gaze. "Tell me, do you care about anyone's feelings at all?"

"Tae...I do! Damnit, why are you saying that?"

"Why am I saying that? Well, for starters, because you are so oblivious, that you didn't even thank the person who just saved you."

I turned around. He was still standing there, looking down. And, wow....this day just kept getting better and better.

"Oh my God, Jimin...I-"

He waved a dismissive hand at me. "I know what you're going to say so, no need."

"Tsk tsk tsk, really?" I closed my eyes at Tae's voice.

"Hyung, she said sorry like a million times already." I turned around to see Jungkook talking to Tae. He was...defending me?

"You're defending her?" Tae asked on my behalf, pointing at me. "Her? She lied to you...you should have been angrier!"

Jungkook looked back at me tenderly. "I am not angry. I'm just....disappointed." He turned around to go. I felt my heart breaking into pieces. I had betrayed my best friend. My Kookie. What was I doing with my life?

"Jungkook-" He cut me off. "I will talk to you later, okay?" Saying that slowly without turning around, he left. Left me alone with Jimin and Tae. We stood quietly for a short while, which felt like decades to me.

"Do you have anything to say to at least one of us?" Tae asked me. This time, his tone was telling me that it was not sarcastic, it was as if he really wanted to know. Well, maybe.

"Go easy on her." Jimin said, walking towards us to stand in front of me.

"I am! I asked her if she has decided who she likes."

"Will you hear me out?" I said, looking at him. He looked back at me, saying nothing.

"Will you hear me out if I say I have?"

"Have you?" He looked sharply at me.

I looked down. "No. Because I don't want to live a dream that is never going to come true." No one said anything for a long while following my statement. They just kept looking at me, with a totally different expression than each other. I wondered what each of them thought about me now.

"Y/N..." Jimin finally whispered weakly.

"Jimin, I am really sorry for what happened that night before Tae came." I saw Tae flinch, looking away from me. I looked back at Jimin. "I just want you to know that I had no bad intentions for you, nor was I playing with your feelings. It's just about the moment...and you seemed to be perfect in that one. I understand if you haven't forgiven me, I completely do."

"You have said sorry before, you don't need to say it again." He replied.

"Because he hasn't forgiven you." Tae interjected.

"Tae." Jimin gave him a sharp look, then turned back to me. "Look, Y/N, you really have to come clean with your feelings here. It's just...important for sorting everything out, if not for anything else."

I nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

"I said the same thing a few minutes ago, but now you understand." Tae said again.

"Tae, enough!" Jimin said sharply.

"So I should just say nothing here? Is that what you want?" Tae rolled his eyes.

"What I want is for us to go. It's time, anyway." Jimin said, looking at me gently. "Fine by me." Tae complied almost too quickly, turning around to go. "See you later, Y/N."

I frowned at his unpredictable behaviour, until I heard Jimin chuckle softly. "What's so funny?" I frowned in confusion.

He looked flustered. "Oh, um....nothing."

"So you just laugh at anything, then?" A smile tugged at my lips.

"What's the harm in that?" He grinned like he always used to do. His laugh was the best thing in the whole world. I have said it before, I know.

"Keep laughing like that." I smiled. "It makes me worried when you don't."

His smile faded, and he looked sideways. "I've gotta go, actually." He turned around, but I grabbed his hand to make him turn back and look at me. "Uh, Jimin....thank you for um...pulling me to you..no, that's not right...I mean-"

"Y/N." He said, chuckling, cutting me off. "See you around, maybe." He left, not stopping a second after that, leaving me alone. I sighed and hung my head low. Standing at the footpath, I suddenly felt exhausted, and alone. Very alone.

"So that was interesting."

"Gah! Okay," I closed my eyes in attempt to recover from the shock the person in front of me had given me. "You have to be everywhere." I added, rolling my eyes.

He shrugged. "I do." He said in his same deadpan tone.

I frowned. "You know smiling occasionally doesn't hurt your brain, right?"

"Doesn't hurt my brain, but hurts my image."

"Uh-huh," I cocked my head sideways amusingly, "and what's that?"

"The brooding and mysterious type."

"You sound like a vampire." I narrowed my eyes.

"Maybe I am one."

"You do know vampires don't sleep at all, right?"

"Oh, then a big no." He frowned. "But do you know I did not mean it literally?"

"Yeah." I took a few steps back. "Stay away from you all, I got the message when you said this to me at the airport anyway."

"Glad." And with that, he left as quickly as he had come.

I could hear a faint sound in the distance...a song was playing nearby.

I'm so sick of this Fake Love, Fake Love...

I needed to get out of here right now.

Can You Keep A Secret? Pt.14

Part 13//Part 14//Part 15

For other parts and the MASTERLIST, please refer to the link to the story in my bio. Thank you for reading!

I. Am. So. Relieved, you guys. I can't tell you how terrible I felt for not uploading for so long...and I really really hope you like this update. It took me the most time out of all of the parts so far. And also, if you have anything at all to say, you can ask me, because I am definitely not staring at my phone for hours waiting for your asks, nope, I definitely don't do that. Stay updated, and happy reading!

[megaphonemonday]

Mega Mama: love all of your Bawson fics. Would love a Hallmark style prompt of Ginny moving to a quaint small town and renovating a charming little house. Her cantankerous contractor is none other than Mike Lawson who once hosted a renovation show with now ex wife Rachel. Money pit style calamities and hilarious mishaps and of course the budding romance. Has been on my mind for a while, I'm just not a writer. Please and greatly appreciated:

oh man, i love me some hgtv, so why the heck not? (also, thanks for trusting me with this! i hope you like it!)

i’m ignoring the near-impossibility of a single, recently graduated person actually buying their own home let alone having the money available to renovate it. Millennials aren’t killing the housing market in this fic 😉

handyman special | ao3

Ginny Baker did not run from her problems. 

(Did she give up when the Varsity baseball coach didn’t want her on the team or did she show up every day of try outs and prove she was just as good as the boys? Not that showing up every day actually got her on the team, but still. The point stood, okay?)

If it seemed like that was exactly what she was doing by breaking up with her boyfriend of three years the evening he proposed and moving all the way across the country, well, that was just a matter of perspective, wasn’t it?

Her mother called it a disaster waiting to happen.

Personally, Ginny preferred to think of it as moving on. Making a fresh start. Realizing her very own Manifest Destiny. 

Just with way less dysentery and genocide.  

She didn’t mean to snort at her own joke, but it wasn’t like Ginny’d been spoiling for laughs lately. And, really. What else did she expect with what she’d gotten herself into? There wasn’t a lot to laugh about at the moment. 

Or anyone to laugh with, for that matter. It was—to be fair, not unexpectedly—difficult to make friends in a small town like this, and Ginny hadn’t made any inroads on that front. And that was the least of her problems.

There were no fewer than seven voicemails waiting on her phone—though it was a toss up as to whether her mother or Trevor had left more. She’d been living out of her carry on the past week, both her checked bags having been misplaced by the airline. The air mattress she slept on definitely had a leak somewhere because no matter how full Ginny made sure it was before she went to bed or how many duct tape patches she applied, she kept waking up with her shoulder and hip digging into the hard floor. 

Which was only happening because Ginny’d checked out of the tiny motel after she bought the house to cut down on costs. 

Because, oh yeah, three days into what was supposed to be an extended vacation in a small, California beach town to get her head on straight, Ginny had somehow bought a house. Like, an entire house. An entire house in desperate need of renovation.

(She’d spent the first two days doing nothing but lounging on the sand and wading into the warm water of the Pacific. Ginny had hoped that the waves would wash away some of her worries, but she’d never been that good at waiting around, hoping for the best. 

So, she always went looking for it.

Which was what propelled her into exploring the sleepy little town, and what led her straight to the wind-scoured, long-neglected bungalow with a “For Sale” sign in the yard. 

That no one would classify her house as the best of anything was undisputed, but Ginny liked it, and that was what mattered.)

Friends (and hopefully the rest of her stuff) would come. This house thing she needed to sort out pretty immediately. She couldn’t keep brushing her teeth with bottled water because the bathroom sink emitted something that was alarmingly brown. She couldn’t keep surviving on sandwiches from the beachside coffee shop down the road. Cara the barista was beginning to look concerned for her dietary choices. It wasn’t Ginny’s fault that every time she used the microwave, all the lights in the house flickered ominously. 

And she really couldn’t keep sleeping on that goddamn air mattress.

Clearly, Ginny had bigger problems on her hands than a lack of friends. Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d really been swimming in friends back in North Carolina. The only thing keeping her there was her family and Trevor. And Trevor’d always been more interested in being her boyfriend than her friend.

Now that she thought about it, Ginny actually couldn’t imagine him being just her friend.

Maybe if he had been, if he’d been satisfied with just her friendship the way she’d initially wanted, she’d feel guiltier now about leaving him behind.

But she didn’t. She was happy to be in California. Excited to start a new life.

A new life that required a new house she could actually live in.

Which was exactly where the grumpy, bearded man currently frowning at, well, everything in Ginny’s newly acquired bungalow came in. 

Ginny had a hard time imagining him ever being her friend, too.

Which was fine. It was fine! She couldn’t imagine his social life was particularly fulfilling, anyway. Not if he went around frowning like that at everyone he met.

Who cared that the sight of him at her door had kindled something dangerously close to interest? And not just friendly interest, either. With his chest testing the limits of the seams on his worn in flannel and his backwards ball cap, what else could it be? Ginny was only human, okay? And it’d been a long time since she’d let herself notice other men. By all appearances, this guy wasn’t a bad place to start.

Too bad appearances could be so deceiving. 

Given the way he hadn’t spoken more than fifteen words to her in the half hour he’d been here, too busy judging her house and clearly finding it lacking, that initial burst of attraction quickly fizzled without anything more to fuel it.

(It’d been a close call when he bent over to inspect an outlet, though.)

No. Mike Lawson certainly wouldn’t be one of her new friends. But maybe he could be her contractor.

He didn’t even bat an eye at Ginny’s snort, just continued scribbling things down in his worn notebook as he prowled around the mostly empty house. There was just Ginny’s one small suitcase, a cheap desk lamp, and her makeshift bed for him to avoid. The few dishes and flatware she’d picked up were tucked away in the kitchen cabinets, but once it became clear the house needed the kind of work Ginny’s high school shop class wouldn’t cover, she figured she’d wait to get anything else. What was the point in blowing a bunch of money that could be put to better use on renovations?

So the rest of the house was bare, showing off the well-worn hardwood floors, freshly painted walls, and bright shafts of sunlight filtering in through the stained glass in the bay window.

Ginny forced herself to focus on these things, trying to figure out how they would come together once the warm afternoon light spilled across furniture and rugs rather than naked floorboards. Better that than trailing after the unfairly good looking man in her house. He hadn’t appreciated any of her attempts at small talk; following him around silently was just creepy.

She’d have to wait for his final assessment.

But not long, thankfully.

Mr. Lawson—he hadn’t corrected her when she greeted him at the door, and Ginny was nothing if not a good Southern girl, manners and all—came out of the small, out of date bathroom, finished making the last of his notes, and blew out a long breath that didn’t do much for Ginny’s confidence.

“What’s the verdict?” she asked, rising from the window seat and trying to manage her expectations.

Mr. Lawson glanced up from his notepad, lips quirked almost charmingly to the side. Before Ginny could go getting any ideas about rekindling any interest, though, he had to go and ruin it.

“You think there’s any chance the bank hasn’t processed your down payment yet?”

She blinked, sure she’d misheard him. “Excuse me?”

“This place is a disaster,” he said, blunt. “I’m surprised there was an inspector alive who let it go on the market like this. ”

Ginny glanced around. Was he seeing what she was? Did he not see the lovely built ins or the back porch that practically ran up against the beach? Sure, there was a long crack running up one of the walls and any time she ran the tap for more than a few seconds, the pipes made a distressing groan, but those things could be fixed. It was his job to fix them.

“So it needs some rehab,” she said, feeling absurdly defensive and protective of this house for all she’d lived in it less than a week.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “That’s one way of putting it.” Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “You said this place was built in the 30s, right? It hasn’t had any significant work done on it since then. It’s falling apart. There are definitely leaks in the roof, the pipes are probably still lead, I’d be shocked if there weren’t asbestos in the insulation, and who knows what kind of shape the wiring’s in.”

Ginny just stared at him, feeling the indignation really settle in.

Whether or not Mr. Lawson sensed this was unclear, but he sighed and took on a slightly more conciliatory tone. “Look,” he said, “you called me in for a professional opinion, right? Well, in my professional opinion, you should get out of here as soon as possible. You’re not the first person to take this place on and I’m guessing you won’t be the last. Do yourself a favor: pawn this place off on someone who can handle it.”

That was all it took to harden Ginny’s general annoyance into fury. Who the hell did this guy think he was? 

“I can handle it,” she bit out coldly, jutting her chin into the air and staring down the asshole. 

She almost couldn’t believe she still wanted to hire him. It wasn’t like she was really spoiled for choice, though. She knew exactly three people in town: her barista, her realtor, and this guy.

“If you could handle it,” he replied, condescending amusement coloring his words and overriding any pleasure Ginny might get out of seeing his big arms cross over his chest, “I wouldn’t be here.”

God, how did he manage to get any clients with an attitude like that?

“If you only take clients who are capable of doing the work themselves, I have to wonder how you stay in business,” she snapped. He could try and convince her to give up on this project all he wanted, it was only going to make Ginny more determined to see it through. This was her house; it was going to be her home. Whether Mike Lawson liked it or not. “I’m well aware that this project requires a professional, which is why I called you in. But if you don’t think you’re up for the challenge, I’m sure I can find another contractor who is.”

It didn’t matter that Ginny had no idea where to even begin looking for another contractor. Her real estate agent had recommended Lawson Restoration Services when she made her offer, said they were the best in town. (Ha. They were probably the only ones in town.) And while Ginny’d been inclined to trust Evelyn Sanders’ judgment, perhaps she needed to reassess that impulse if this was what it got her.

Across the room, Mr. Lawson’s eyes narrowed. Ginny could practically hear his teeth grind in annoyance. Good. He’d been enough of a pain in her ass, he could deal with a little payback.

At her smirk, he just shook his head and huffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling like he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to say. “If you’re serious, then I’m in.”

Ginny didn’t let herself second-guess him. Instead, she stepped forward and held out her hand. After a long moment, he gave in and shook, looking like he was already regretting his decision.

She just smiled, pleased to have gotten her way. “Then it sounds like we have a deal, Mr. Lawson.”

The greatest things about being self-employed and mostly working from home were that Ginny could set her own schedule, count everything in her closet as business-appropriate, and avoid dealing with coworkers prying into her personal life because she didn’t have any.

(She could also move all the way across the country without worrying about finding a new job when she settled in, but she liked to think that one had limited usefulness.)

In North Carolina, those had been unequivocal pros.

Here in California, where Ginny’s house was constantly occupied by a small circus of workers and their prickly—still! After three whole weeks seeing each other every day—ringleader, it was more of a mixed bag.

Sleeping in was off the table when a chorus of hammers and drills and buzz saws started every day promptly at 8:00 AM. Similarly, pants were no longer optional with a team of strange men swarming her house.

Ginny couldn’t decide which she missed more.

She couldn’t even really work from home. Not when her home-to-be was an active construction scene with no internet. Lawson had actually laughed in her face when she floated the idea of getting a wireless connection set up right away. Laughed and laughed and laughed until she gave up and walked away. Ginny’d managed to switch everything around in his tool belt so he kept coming up with the wrong thing in retaliation, but he figured it out too fast for it to be really satisfying.

Sometimes, she set up shop on the beach just beyond her back door. It was nice to be on hand if Lawson needed to run something by her, and even better to watch the project progress. More often, though, Ginny'd walk down the street to the coffee shop to hang out with Cara, listen to gossip about people she mostly didn’t know, and use the wifi when necessary. Which was basically all the time. Such was the glamorous life of a web designer. 

Both got her out from underfoot, which was the important thing. Ginny had always considered herself a fairly handy person. Her pop had made sure she knew how to fix a leaking pipe and change a flat tire just as well as she could throw a screwball. Watching the crew tear apart the bungalow and slowly piece it back together, though, she was uncomfortably aware that nothing her pop had taught her could’ve prepared her for this.

Sometimes, when she needed a break from tweaking layouts for clients, she’d scroll through the (massive and still growing) folder of photos titled “neverending construction” just to reassure herself that things were actually getting done. Progress had been made.

So Ginny continued to document that progress and tried to learn as much as possible as she went. At least once a week, she spent some of the day drifting through the wreckage of her house and snapping more pictures than she had since her time on the school newspaper. It was nice. Even if Ginny learned early on to make sure Lawson was unaware if he happened to be in the shot. Not only did he frown less when he didn’t know he was being watched, he couldn’t complain about what he didn’t know was happening.

Which, of course, didn’t keep him from grumbling about Ginny distracting his guys from their jobs.

On the bright side, she was definitely meeting people.

There was Salvamini, who surfed on his lunch breaks in spite of Dusty’s conviction that sharks would get him one day. Livan had a dangerous smile, but a love of cilantro Ginny could not abide. Omar was shy, but sweet, while Sonny, Butch, and Javanes hid most of their sweetness beneath many, many layers of ego. Blip, the construction manager, was apparently married to her realtor, which certainly explained Evelyn’s recommendation.

There were more of them, too, a largely friendly gaggle of dudes who cycled in and out, taking away bits and pieces of the house and leaving behind fresh drywall and newly finished floors. They seemed to like her well enough, and not just because she fed them pizza and beer on Friday evenings.

The only one Ginny still couldn’t get a solid read on was their grouch of a boss. Lawson was the only one who was on site every day, and he was the only one Ginny hadn’t managed to learn anything about. She thought he found her amusing more than annoying, which was something. 

In her head, and whenever she had occasion to say it out loud, she’d finally dropped the “Mr.” off his name, but only because the entire crew burst into laughter the first time they heard her call him Mr. Lawson. She couldn’t bring herself to call him just Mike the way everyone else did. Not when he was still mostly a mystery.

Which worked well enough for them. They were mostly content to leave each other be: Lawson to his work and Ginny to hers.

Still, sometimes Lawson’s work meant they had to meet in the middle.

“Hey, you got a minute?”

Ginny paused in slipping on her headphones and backpedaled to the Mission Control Center—which was really just a card table strewn with blueprints in what would be the dining room—where Lawson oversaw and planned everything. (Some nights, after the guys had long gone home and the house was quiet, Ginny’d flip through the papers, trying to make out his scrawl and see how much of it made any sense. It usually wasn’t much, but she was getting better at deciphering his handwriting.) She’d just come in to change for a run, but that could wait. She’d been running a lot lately, both to blow off steam and because it was her only way to explore town. God, she missed her truck. The only reason she’d wanted to go now was because she couldn’t stare at her computer screen or the ridiculous doggy haute couture store she was supposed to build for another second.

“What’s up?”

“Just wanted to make sure I can send the drywallers home.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

Lawson rolled his eyes and Ginny only just managed not to roll hers right back.

“If you suddenly decided you wanted to knock down the wall between the bedrooms, that’d probably stop me.”

“Oh.” Ginny thought it over for a moment, but didn’t see much of a point in it. “Uh, no. No walls to knock down.”

Lawson snorted, but it wasn’t quite as derisive as it usually was. “What, you don’t wanna go fully open concept with this place?”

Honestly, Ginny didn’t even know what that meant. HGTV hadn’t ever been all that high on her watch list. She said so and Lawson laughed again, for real this time.

It did nice things to his face, making his eyes crinkle and cheeks round. Not that Ginny cared about any of that. Or the way he licked his lips before replying.

“You’re not missing out on much,” he promised, shaking his head.

“If you say so.” She shrugged and considered the original question. “I guess you can send the drywallers home, then.”

“Livan will be so disappointed,” he drawled.

Was it just Ginny, or was there a hint of something in that observation? An edge, perhaps? 

One way to find out.

“Well, it’s not like he doesn’t know where to find me.”

Lawson rolled his eyes again, which didn’t give her any answers. That was pretty much his go to response for, now that Ginny thought about it, everything. “I don’t think even he’d go so far as to stalk you, Ms. Baker.”

Ginny’s nose wrinkled, though not at the mention of stalking. Ms. Baker? Really? After all this time? He hadn’t been Mr. Lawson in weeks. Still, she didn’t bother correcting him. 

All this renovation stuff would be over soon, and they’d never see each other again. Sure, the process of repairing the foundation had taken longer than initially planned and all the insulation had to be replaced along with most of the plumbing and the entire roof—to his credit, Lawson never said anything about having predicted these exact problems, but Ginny was sure he’d thought it at least once—but it seemed like it was all coming to an end. It’d been weeks since she last saw the exposed studs of a wall. The house actually felt like a house again.

Rather than say any of that, though, Ginny just shrugged. “If he does, I know who to blame.”

Lawson waved her off with a huff. “Go on your run, then, and get outta my way.”

Ginny did as he asked, but she stuck her tongue out as she went, and Lawson’s laugh echoed in her ears all through her run.

The first morning Ginny wasn’t woken up by the chorus of nail guns or the steady drone of a circular saw, she lay on her semi-deflated air mattress and tried not to think how strange her life had become. Here she was, hardly two years out of school, living in a largely unfurnished house some 2,500 miles away from the town she’d lived all her life. 2,500 miles away from the people she’d known all her life.

And honestly, she couldn’t be happier. Last, week, after Lawson practically threw her out of the house, saying she couldn’t sleep there with all the varnish fumes that came with finishing the floors and baseboards, she’d gone home. Well, back to North Carolina, at least. Mostly so she could reassure Will and her mom that she hadn’t been inducted into a cult the way they seemed to think. 

She made it 38 hours in Tarboro before loading up her truck, which had been once been her pop’s, and hitting the road for California. And why should she stay? She’d seen everyone who mattered.

Trevor, she hadn’t heard from at all.

Which, she supposed, wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

The drive across country had been a little lonely, and by the end of it Ginny was happy to be back in her sleepy seaside town. Happy to be back in her—every day less and less—ramshackle house. Happy to go to sleep on her halfhearted air mattress. (Though she was less happy to be waking up in it now.)

She’d almost been happy to see Lawson’s grumpy, bearded face, even.

Which, of course, was just perfect since he was officially done being her contractor. 

Between the foundation repair and plumbing issues, not to mention the almost entirely new roof, there hadn’t been enough money for Ginny to justify paying a whole team of guys to sand and paint and seal and otherwise turn the house from a construction project into a home.

She’d been so sure she could take it on, but now, in the cold light of morning, Ginny was beginning to have some very serious doubts.

As she’d had occasion to find out over the past six weeks, web design and interior design were two very different ballgames. Sure, there were some similarities: a general attention to aesthetics and detail, but the implementation couldn’t be more different. Where a few keystrokes and commands were all it took to get a website in working order. Restoring and decorating a house required actual heavy lifting.

Naturally, it was something of a daunting task, and Ginny told herself she was just easing herself into it slowly. So slowly, she wasn’t even getting out of bed yet.

She had felt so eager to take on the challenge, anticipation ratcheting up as workers she’d gotten to know over the past few months began to disappear in ones and twos, off to work on other projects. Soon enough, only Lawson was left, finishing up with the tile in the kitchen and the bathroom, sanding down the last rough edges.

Just last evening, all his work finished up, he’d handed over his spare set of keys and told her, “Well, Baker. It’s all on you now.” If he said it with more than a bit of trepidation in his voice, Ginny thought it was at least a little bit of a joke.

She was about 75% sure.

The remaining 25% was a certainty that he was worried she would either manage to kill herself or pull all his hard work down around her ears.

Which was progress where she and Lawson were concerned. It wasn’t so long ago Ginny would’ve been completely offended by his lack of faith and determined to prove him wrong. Now, she was just determined to prove him wrong.

Honestly, she thought Lawson’s snobbery was mostly funny, though that might have been nostalgia talking; it was strange to be in the house all by herself. He’d been so scandalized when she mentioned she had no idea how to refinish cabinets, but was sure the internet would help her out.

The internet always knew what to do. Even—especially—when she didn’t.

He’d grumbled when she laughed, but only said she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone he’d worked on the house if she ended up ruining it.

With that taunt bolstering her resolve, Ginny rolled out of her deflating bed and one question answered itself easily enough.

This mattress? Yeah, it had to go. It had never been all that good at it’s intended purpose, but Ginny was increasingly sure that if she tried to force the issue, her sad, second-hand air mattress would give up on retaining air altogether. She needed to get a real bed and a real mattress as soon as possible. And if, in the process, she created a real bedroom rather than just the place where she passed out every night, Ginny wouldn’t complain.

It would be nice to have some place to come back to at the end of the day that didn’t do such a good impression of a squatter’s nest.

Which was how, hours later and verging on exhaustion, Ginny found herself standing in the middle of the hardware store’s paint aisle, contemplating the difference between Fuzzy Duckling and Smiley Face. Was there one? And what the hell was greige?

She was still frowning at the mind-boggling array of paint samples when someone interrupted with a gruff, “Excuse me.”

“Sorry,” Ginny replied automatically, stepping out of the middle of the aisle, and checking over her shoulder to make sure there was enough room for their heavily loaded cart to get by. It was then that she noticed who was pushing the cart. “Oh. Hi.”

Mike Lawson paused and actually took her in. Ginny did the same, not that she’d had a chance to forget any important details in the past 12 hours. His beard was the same as ever, thick and dark and framing his mouth in a way that wasn’t intriguing. His flannel was the one he’d worn pretty much every Thursday of their acquaintance, the blue and gray one that sometimes strained around his arms when he lifted something heavy. His wry smile, once recognition lit in his eyes, was the one he always gave when he found her particularly amusing.

“Didn’t I just finish with you?” he asked in lieu of a real greeting.

“You might have moved on to bigger and better things, Lawson, but my little house still needs some work.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” The corners of his mouth tugged, like he wanted to grin. Ginny couldn’t say why he didn’t. 

“Says the man who left it in such shambles.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest. He’d offered to work out some kind of payment plan to get some more work done, but Ginny was actually looking forward to the challenge of doing this herself.

“And you decided to get right to it, huh?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

He laughed and that little flutter of pride that came every time she managed to startle that sound out of him woke up in Ginny’s stomach. In the beginning, it’d always been a shock that her forbidding contractor was even capable of laughing. As they got to know each other, though, Ginny came to realize Mike’s sense of humor was very much alive. He laughed all the time. At her stupid Laffy Taffy jokes, at Blip’s stories of his twins and the intrigues of the second grade, at his guys almost constantly. Though that was generally at their expense in a way this laugh wasn’t.

“Don’t know why I’m surprised,” he said with a rueful shake of his head before turning to face the wall of paint chips Ginny’d been eyeing. “If you want my two cents, don’t go too dark in the dining room; there’s not enough light. Test out a few of the sample cans and see what you like, though.”

“So you’re a designer now, too?” Ginny teased, more familiar than she ever would’ve imagined during that first meeting.

Something flickered across Mike’s face and the smile he offered her was tight. “Something like that. I’ll leave you to it.”

He didn’t even give her a chance to demand a better answer, instead walking up to the cash register, pausing to pay, and then heading out the door.

All Ginny could think was something that she often found herself thinking when it came to Mike Lawson:

What the hell is his problem?

It was another few days before Ginny got around to trying out the samples she picked out. (Fortunately, none of them were Fuzzy Duckling or whatever the hell greige was.) Which wasn’t to say she hadn’t been busy. She’d driven up and down the coast in her dad’s pick up more times than she could count, scoping out estate sales and flea markets, trying to find furniture to fill the bedroom. And the rest of the house when she found the perfect dining room table and an antique carved screen she had no idea what to do with, but it was too pretty to just leave.

Sure, it would’ve been much easier to just go to the nearest Ikea, but that felt too close to cheating. The house itself would be such a labor of love, she couldn’t just fill it with the same dresser and couch combination as every college student in America.

So, she waded through heaps and piles of junk, hoping to find a few things that spoke to her, or whatever.

Okay, maybe she’d been watching some HGTV in her spare time, or at least had it on in the background as she coded. Ginny was relatively sure her intention—gaining a few interior design instincta purely through osmosis—had been largely unsuccessful, but she’d definitely picked up on the lingo.

Things like window treatments and wood finishes spoke to her now. She had opinions on chair rails and subway tile. Barn doors were beyond over done, but she kind of liked them anyway. And if Ginny never heard anyone say the words man cave again, she would gladly sacrifice her soul to whatever kind god was looking down on her.

And yet, she still found herself cuing up another episode of House Hunters to play in the background as she finally tested out the three shades of blue she’d picked for her bedroom walls.

Ginny must have dropped into some kind of painting zen because the next thing she knew, she was laughing along to Mike Lawson’s familiar snark, as she swept broad swathes of her final sample, a delicate robin’s egg blue, onto one wall.

At first she didn’t realize it wasn’t actually him. She almost called out a reply, the way she had when it was only them in the house, when reality caught up to her.

Ginny blinked, shaking herself. Was she hallucinating? Had seeing him at the hardware store triggered some delayed response to how alone she was all the time now? Before Ginny could really settle in to psychoanalyze herself, another voice rang through the house.

Unless Evelyn had neglected to mention some very active ghosts in the house, Ginny was relieved to believe that her mental health was still intact.

Dropping her roller brush back in the tray, Ginny padded over to her computer, which she’d left well out of the way of the open paint cans. Thankfully, the screen was still paint free. However, the clear screen didn’t help her in figuring out what the hell was showing on it. Hulu continued to play, but that was not a good enough explanation for what she was seeing there. It took her a minute to process it, actually. It didn’t matter how long she looked, though, her brain always reached the same conclusion.

That was Mike Lawson.

Mike Lawson talking into a camera outside a construction project.

Mike Lawson on his own TV show.

What in the actual fuck?

Staring first in confusion and then amusement and back to confusion, Ginny struggled to wrap her head around the sight of him, a few years younger and a beard (and probably a few pounds, though Ginny didn’t think it did much for his appearance) lighter talking into the camera, smiling charmingly as he explained something about what he must’ve been working on.

What was even harder to wrap her head around was the pretty redhead leaning into his side.

“Y’know, I was sure Rachel’d lost her mind when she told me to save all that old flooring, but she was absolutely right. That’s why she gets to make the decisions, and I just follow orders.” He looked adoringly down at the woman beside him, who laughed, tossing her long, red hair.

“It’s true,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder and beaming straight into the camera. “I made him put that in our wedding vows.”

Automatically, Ginny paused the playback.

She blinked. Then blinked once more. She hadn’t realized Lawson was married. Then again, she didn’t actually know anything about him aside from his general disdain for open-concept living spaces and laminate flooring. Well, that and how well he got along with his crew, as both their leader and their friend. And how good his forearms looked when he had his sleeves rolled up to work the power drill—

Okay, back to the topic at hand.

The man was married. 

Or had been, Ginny rationalized as she struggled to recall if she’d ever seen a wedding band in all the time she’d known him. He was definitely wearing one on screen.

She could still see it under the dark overlay announcing, “You are watching: Building Character.”

Telling herself that what she was feeling was not disappointment, not at all, Ginny pressed play again.

It wouldn’t hurt to watch a little more. Just to satisfy her curiosity. Nothing wrong with that.

Before she knew what she’d done, it was dark outside, the paint had dried out in the tray, her laptop was about to die, and Ginny had watched half a season of Building Character.

Which at least had the distinction of not being the worst name in the HGTV pantheon.

She forced herself to close Hulu’s tab and shut down her computer for good measure before plugging it in and leaving it alone for the rest of the evening.

What she did the next morning, however, was an entirely different story.

If asked, Ginny wouldn’t be proud to admit that she looked up the show’s Wikipedia article before letting herself get sucked back in the next morning, but she was curious, all right? There were worse reasons to do things. Mike Lawson did not seem like the type to get on board with being followed around by a camera crew, and she wanted to know what could possibly convince him it was a good idea. 

There were no answers on that front, but she did skim over sections on the show’s premise and ratings, scrolling until she hit one titled: “Cancellation.”

It was a short paragraph, hardly even deserving of its own heading. All it said was: “Building Character was cancelled after its second season, aired in 2014, following several developments within the cast. Many speculated that its cancellation was due to competitor Bravo’s announcement of a new interior design show in development in the vein of Millionaire Matchmaker or Flipping Out, which Patrick had been tapped to headline. The series shot a pilot, which was never picked up. Patrick also filed for divorce from Lawson at this time.”

That wasn’t nearly enough information. It was hardly even information. There weren’t any sources cited, and no way to tell how true it all was. 

Ginny had questions. About a million of them, actually.

(Even if her most burning one had been answered pretty definitively.)

And what better source for answers than the show in question? So, telling herself it was merely to sate her curiosity, Ginny felt only slightly weird about pulling up the next episode to play in the background as she went back to her neglected tasks from yesterday.

Ginny’s discovery left her in something of a strange, quasi-ethical quandary. At what point did she tell Lawson that she’d found his TV show? Should she even? No one on the crew had ever brought it up; he probably wasn’t trading on his semi-fame to drum up business. If he was, he definitely wasn’t doing a good job of it. Maybe Lawson just wanted to leave it in the past? If his short stint as a TV personality had ended in his divorce, there were probably some pretty bad memories tied up in it all. Ginny didn’t need to go digging that up just to sate her curiosity and soothe her vaguely guilty conscience.

And what was there to be guilty about? So what, she watched a publicly available TV show. A publicly available TV show that happened to feature someone she actually knew, but who didn’t know she’d seen his—

It was weird, okay? Just super weird.

Luckily, it was an easy enough conundrum to ignore when Ginny didn’t actually have to see the man in question. Well, not in person at least. In spite of her (more than) daily trips to the local hardware store and even striking up something of a friendship—well, Ginny was determined it would be a friendship by the time she was through—with its curmudgeon of an owner, Al, she hadn’t run into Mike Lawson again.

She thanked God that she hadn’t started her HGTV kick earlier. If she’d found the show while he was still around every day, slowly growing on her, Ginny couldn’t begin to imagine what she would’ve done. He probably would’ve ended up quitting and she would’ve been left with a real problem on her hands.

For all Ginny had actually met the man before she stumbled across his cancelled home renovation show, she wasn’t prepared to come face to face with Mike Lawson again now that she had this information. It was easier to separate them into two entirely different people: Lawson, the grumpy contractor who’d made her house technically livable and wasn’t always as big of an asshole as he’d first seemed was miles away from Mike, the TV personality who both provided Ginny with some excellent inspiration as she fumbled her way through her DIY restorations and was utterly smitten with his pretty interior designer wife.

(Well, ex-wife now.)

Of course, just because it was easier didn’t mean it would always be that way.

Or would even last that long.

A few days after stumbling on Building Character, Ginny was once again at the hardware store, ready to pick up all the paint for her house, as well as drop cloths and tape and brushes and all the other supplies the internet had told her she’d need.

She was just loading the last of her freshly mixed paint cans into her cart when a far too familiar voice drawled, just behind her, “Of all the gin joints in all the world.”

Ginny whirled, paint clattering to the bottom of her cart, a hand to her chest. “Jesus, are you stalking me?” she blurted, ignoring any irony in her accusation.

(Watching a TV show wasn’t stalking, okay? Even if she was using said TV show to glean a few personal details—

Okay, okay. She got the picture.)

Lawson squinted at her, like he wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not. Ginny wasn’t sure either, though at least half her discomfort had to come from the fact that over the past week, she’d binged every episode of Building Character. She kept getting flashes of his TV self, leaner and fresher faced, laid over the current one, like a double image.

“No,” he finally answered, something like a smirk playing over his mouth. “And, y’know, I’m the one who’s been coming to this store for years. Wouldn’t you be the one stalking me?”

Ginny laughed, a little too high and a little too hard to be completely natural. “In your dreams, Lawson.”

“Just Mike is fine.”

The laughter dried up in Ginny’s mouth as her eyes went wide. “What?”

“Mike. That is my name.” His head tipped to the side as he regarded her, curious and amused and too much for Ginny, in all honesty. “You might as well use it if we’re going to keep running into each other.”

“How do you know we’re going to keep running into each other?” she demanded, scrambling to find her footing in this exchange and focus on the Mike who existed in the present, not just on her laptop screen. “So much for making me believe you’re not a stalker, by the way.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not such a big town, and Al likes to gossip. He told me you’ve been in at least once a day all week. Given the shape of your house, you’re gonna be here pretty often.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” she said, dodging the question of whether or not she’d be calling him Mike any time in the near future. Maybe when Building Character and the way she’d chattered at the show like Mike was actually at work somewhere in the house as she painted was further in her mental rearview. God, she needed to make some friends around here. People who would keep her from talking to Hulu to feel like she had company. “There is a lot of work left to do.”

“And you’re starting with the painting?”

Grateful for the segue—and it didn’t even sound nearly as judgmental as she was sure he wanted to be—Ginny eagerly latched onto this topic. “Sort of. I’ve been getting some furniture, too.” She couldn’t seem to stop the steady flow of chatter, even as she was aware Lawson couldn’t be that interested. “Oh! And I just picked up this door from a flea market down in Encinitas. It’s got this art deco stained glass that’s all ocean waves. I’m thinking of painting the shutters blue to match.”

Mike nodded along anyway, but when he opened his mouth, it wasn’t to praise her thriftiness or design instincts. Instead, he asked, “You’re putting a door from a flea market in your house?”

Ginny shrugged. It was cheaper than getting a brand new one and it fit in the frame she already had. Which was exactly what she informed a despairing Lawson. Plus, how many people have hundred year old front doors?

“There’s a reason for that,” he said, clearly exasperated. “It’s gonna splinter the first time someone tries to bash it in.”

It was the sheer grouchiness in his voice that finally shook Ginny out of her awkwardness. This man in front of her, the one frowning so forbiddingly, was Mike Lawson. The one she’d gotten to know over piles of 2x4s and through a fine sheen of plaster dust. Whoever he’d been when Building Character was filmed didn’t really exist anymore.

All she needed to do was look at his beard to know that.

“Who’s bashing in doors around here?” she joked, trying to settle back into their customary banter.

“You can never be too careful,” Mike replied without actually answering the question.

“I’ve managed to protect my house from burglars just fine on my own, thanks.”

Lawson was still frowning when he asked, “You’re really doing this by yourself?”

Ginny rocked back, surprised by the shift in topic. “How else am I supposed to do it? You got me through the difficult stuff. I can manage to strip some cabinets and install a few light fixtures on my own.”

He was smart enough not to argue, though his skepticism was hard to miss. “I’m sure you’re more than capable, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it on your own.”

Ginny snorted, but didn’t bother to explain herself at his curious look. Lawson must have forgotten what it was like to be new in town. Especially a small town like this. Vaguely suspicious stares and curious murmurs still followed Ginny almost everywhere she went, though she’d done her best to present a friendly face, willing to wait out the distrust. Having grown up in a small town of her own, she knew that strangers weren’t always met with open arms. She had her small circle of friends—Blip and Evelyn, Cara, Livan and most of the other guys, and even Lawson on good days—which was so much better than what she’d started with. Ginny could afford the wait on this front. 

“Well, I’m going to,” she replied, decisive and determined. (And entirely missing the thoughtful frown on Lawson’s face.)

After all, what other choice did she have?

As it turned out, Ginny had more than a few choices.

Somehow—and the exact mechanics of this information exchange were never quite nailed down to Ginny’s satisfaction—word got around quickly among her limited acquaintance that she might be in a little over her head.

The first person to show up and offer her help was Evelyn Sanders, Ginny’s realtor. Ginny had seen the woman a few times in the past months, but it was mostly in passing. Friendly smiles as they maneuvered past each other at the grocery store and quick hellos in line for coffee. So, Evelyn’s sudden appearance on her doorstep, ready to work, was nothing short of a shock.

Ginny nonetheless invited her and her two rambunctious seven-year-olds inside, falling back on ingrained manners to get over her surprise.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long to come check up on you,” Evelyn said in place of an actual greeting as she ushered her boys in ahead of her. The kids, a set of twins by all appearances, looked up at Ginny, and she looked back, at a loss. Their frank curiosity was a refreshing change of pace from the veiled interest that dogged Ginny’s steps in town. At their mother’s permission, however, they both scampered out the backdoor to the waiting beach. No stranger could compare to the pull of the ocean to two seven-year-olds. “There was this whole thing—there was a house and a contested will and a court order—that just took forever to wrap up, and then Gabe and Marcus started school…”

Evelyn smiled winningly as she trailed off and Ginny looked uncertainly back.

“Oh,” Ginny said, upon realizing the other woman was waiting for a response. She was very aware that she’d gotten a streak of paint in her hair earlier in the day and could in no way compare to Evelyn’s spotless dress. “That’s all right?”

Evelyn flapped her hand, “Thank you, but I still should’ve come earlier. I always try to come for the housewarming, at least.” Then, with an evaluative glance around the living room, which had mostly turned into storage for Ginny’s estate sale finds, she added, “Although maybe I’m not as late as I thought. Blip told me he was done working on the house.”

Right, Blip. It’d honestly slipped Ginny’s mind that Lawson’s right hand man was married to her real estate agent. She hadn’t seen him in so long; he’d been one of the first to disappear from the project, apparently heading up the next one a few towns over. “He is,” she assured. “But I’m not.”

With the enthusiasm of a woman who loved a good project, Evelyn demanded all the details. If she was disappointed that Ginny was largely flying blind, she didn’t show it. She did, however, march through the house to take in the state of things for herself. In no time at all, showing off a mind built for organization and a personality for delegation, she’d helped Ginny catalogue all the remaining projects and construct a feasible timeline to finish them. As she left barely an hour later, apparently late for the boys’ baseball practice, she promised to take Ginny to all the best antique stores and salvage yards.

Ginny wasn’t holding her breath. Evelyn clearly had a lot on her plate, and while the help today was certainly appreciated, Ginny was more than prepared to finish this thing on her own.

All too soon, though, she learned just why no one underestimated Evelyn Sanders twice.

Not only did the realtor make good on her promise to take Ginny bargain hunting, she proved to be a formidable haggler and a determined friend.

Whether she liked it or not, Ginny was going to become part of the Sanders’ social circle.

(She definitely liked it.)

Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, Ginny’s house was the new place to be.

On the weekends, some combination of the old crew—Sonny or Melky or even Livan, taking a break from his punishing social schedule—came over and helped her pull out the overgrown tangle of weeds in the front yard and, when that was done, moved on to repainting the siding. Blip would sometimes show up with the boys after school to jump in on whatever needed doing. He said he wanted them to learn the value of hard work, but since they were seven and had the attention spans to prove it, they mostly ended up eating cookies and milk in the kitchen while their dad and Ginny stripped cabinets, shit talking one another’s taste in basketball teams. Evelyn would breeze in after her office closed, take a quick tour to survey the newest improvements, and round up her boys so Ginny could “have some peace and quiet.” 

Sometimes, she even rounded Ginny up and brought her home for “a proper home cooked meal,” which Ginny would never turn down, even if she thought she should. The sandwiches Cara made down at the cafe were good, but there were only so many of them that she could eat.

In payment, Ginny always made sure to have more than enough beer (or juice for her underage helpers) in the fridge and pizza to feed an army waiting at the end of the day. She, personally, thought she should be doing more in repayment, but every time she offered, they all shook her off. All they’d take was food and gratitude.

Which Ginny was more than happy to give.

She would’ve given a lot more for the comfort that came with knowing there were people here who had her back.

Even if one of those people wasn’t Mike Lawson.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t around. She’d see him at the bar when Livan dragged her out of the house to escape the paint fumes, or at the hardware store when she inevitably had to go back to pick out a different sealant for her salvaged dining room table. He regularly showed up at the Sanders house for their bi-weekly potluck, and never empty handed.

Okay, Ginny saw him a lot, actually.

And every time she did, they got along just fine. Better than fine, even.

It was funny, getting to know the real him, and not just whatever version of Mike Lawson had been deemed fit for TV. On screen, he was clearly meant to be someone’s wish fulfillment: An appropriately rugged man’s man, but also a dedicated husband. Someone who not only worked with his hands, but could appreciate the finer things in life, too. 

He was pretty much a walking wet dream.

And, don’t get her wrong, he did an excellent job of it, but he wasn’t quite real, either.

The real Mike had a bit of a dour streak, one Ginny hesitated to believe grew into existence along with his beard. He couldn’t stop rolling his eyes if they were in danger of falling out. He was terminally inclined towards grumpiness. 

But he also watched out for his guys like they were his own brothers. He was funny, with a sarcastic bent that Building Character utterly failed to reveal. While he was personally affronted by Ginny’s taste in movies, and threatened her with a Film 101 crash course every other time they saw each other, he didn’t treat her like a moron for liking Mean Girls more than The Maltese Falcon. 

Honestly, Ginny liked the man she was slowly coming to know even more than the one she still watched on Hulu sometimes.

For all his faults, Mike always listened to her progress, and Ginny got to pick his brain about particularly stubborn problems she ran up against. He offered advice and Ginny mostly took it with grace. Ginny fed him gossip from his guys, and he pretended not to squirrel away every bit of intelligence.

She even divulged that she’d found his show.

(“I didn’t know I’d hired a famous contractor,” she teased, elbowing him as they both waited for their drinks at the bar. Ginny probably didn’t need any more; she was already pretty buzzed. If she weren’t, there was no way she’d consider this an acceptable topic of conversation. As it was, she kept going. “You had your very own TV show, and you didn’t tell me.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepish. “It’s not something I really advertise.”

“Well, if I hadn’t heard you complaining about cherry finishes first hand, I wouldn’t have believed it. I never would’ve recognized you.”

“No?” Mike asked, one eyebrow raised and a corner of his mouth turned up, too.

“Nope,” she answered, ignoring how good he looked with that sly grin. “That thing you’ve grown on your face is a pretty excellent disguise.”

He laughed, a sharp burst of surprise that, like always, made Ginny’s stomach flutter. “Don’t hate on the beard, Baker.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Whatever I feel about the beard, it’s only what it deserves.”

The fact that it was the truth, no matter which way she meant it, only made it harder for Mike to argue.)

They were, at least in a casual way, friends.

But he never came to her house.

Ginny tried not to read into it. He renovated homes for a living. Of course he didn’t want to do it in his spare time, and for no money to boot. She couldn’t blame him for spending his free time doing other things. Things that didn’t involve her. (Even if they often involved other women, if the gossip around town to be believed.)

It didn’t mater that he always made sure to seek her out at Blip and Ev’s or the bar or even when they crossed paths in town. He was just being nice.

That was all.

“Son of a bitch!”

Ginny glared down at her phone, though the Lou the tow truck driver had already hung up and could appreciate neither her cursing nor her unimpressed stare. One of the unexpected problems of living in a small town was when there was a big accident up the coast, the only available tow truck was going to be kept busy for a while.

Which meant she was currently stuck on the side of the road, victim of a blown tire.

It was too dark and too far for Ginny to risk the walk into town, though Lou’d assured her he didn’t need her to stick around for the tow if she wanted someone to pick her up. Unfortunately, though, everyone she would’ve considered calling was busy somewhere that wasn’t the side of the road. 

Blip and Ev were having a date night down in San Diego, Livan didn’t believe in answering phone calls (and was probably already knee deep in some flirting at the bar), and, well, those were the only people Ginny was actually comfortable calling.  Cara the barista had insisted on trading numbers back when it became clear Ginny would be a new regular, but they rarely talked outside of the coffee shop. Their first foray into friendship couldn’t be Ginny demanding a favor.

Mike’s phone number was still somewhere in her contacts, not that Ginny actually had any plans to put it to use. He wasn’t that kind of a friend.

She sighed and flopped back in the bed of her truck, flinging an arm dramatically across her eyes for good measure.

She was so wrapped up in her pity party, she didn’t even hear the other car drive up. She also didn’t hear its driver kill the engine, get out, close the door, and make it within five feet of her.

“Need some help?”

Ginny bolted upright and was immediately blinded by a set of halogen headlights. All she could make out was a large, dim shadow approaching her. She jumped to her feet and immediately wished she’d thought to grab the tire iron or something from the bed of the truck. It might not’ve helped with her blown tire, but Ginny’d seen Criminal Minds, okay? If someone wanted to try and grab her, it would’ve been a hell of a help.

Panic flooding her veins and well before she’d gotten a good look at whomever had approached her, Ginny jabbed out with a fist. Who cared that she didn’t know who it was? She was alone on a dark road, but she was not going to end up as inspiration for the writers of Law and Order.

Unfortunately, blinded as she was, her aim was pretty shoddy. Her hand collided with something solid and unforgiving.

“Ow! Fuck!” her assailant protested, knocking her next punch out of the way. “Jesus, Baker! It’s me.”

“Lawson?” she demanded, reason catching up with panic and battling for control. She squinted against the glare of his headlights, and realized that: yes, she had just tried to punch out Mike Lawson. A hysterical burble of laughter climbed out of her stomach, and she pressed a hand over her heart, trying to calm its furious rhythm. “You scared me!”

He grimaced, holding out his hands placatingly and stepping to the side so Ginny didn’t have to stare straight into the light. Bright spots danced across her eyes, but she could still make out how guilty and concerned he looked. “Sorry,” he said, making sure to keep his distance. “Just, I saw your truck and pulled over to make sure you were all right. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ginny’s heart was still thundering away in her chest, but she managed to nod. “Okay,” she said, swallowing back the bitter tang of adrenaline. As it went, she felt her knees begin to go, too. Before they completely dissolved beneath her, she leaned back against the lowered tailgate, hoping it seemed nonchalant and not necessary. “I get it. Next time, though, maybe try to avoid startling a woman alone at night.”

“Noted,” he agreed, his eyes sweeping over her in something almost like worry. “Are you okay?”

She waved him off, though the furrow of his brow didn’t ease up at all. “I’ll survive. And maybe by the time Lou gets here with the tow truck, I’ll have my heart rate back to normal.”

Mike ignored her dig in favor of frowning. “Tow truck? What’s wrong?”

“Blew a tire.”

“Don’t you have a spare?”

“That was it,” she replied, nodding to the shreds of rubber still clinging to her back wheel. Carefully, she eased herself up onto the tailgate. Her knees felt less watery now, but the tow truck was still a good half hour away. Might as well settle in for the wait.

Mike rolled his eyes. “You know you’re not supposed to drive around on it, right? It’s just to get you into a shop.”

Ginny rolled her eyes right back. “No, I had no idea, Lawson.” At his unimpressed stare (maybe it was just the shadows playing tricks on her eyes that made her think he was smiling a little reluctantly, too), she threw her hands in the air. “I was prioritizing, okay? I’d rather definitely be able to take a shower than maybe prevent, well. This.”

“What happened to your shower?”

“Nothing. It’s great.” It was. It was maybe her favorite place in the house, and not just because it was the only thing she hadn’t had to put any work into. Mike had turned what was once a tragically outdated bathroom into a mini spa, and Ginny would be lying if she said it hadn’t affected her tiny crush on him at all. “But the hot water heater died last week, and I had to get it replaced.”

He shook his head and heaved himself up onto the bed of her truck, too. “That house is a money pit. How you haven’t already gone bankrupt is a mystery.”

Ginny ignored his halfhearted probing in favor of leaning away from his warm and far-too-close bulk.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded, maybe a tiny bit shrill. But it was only natural. The only times she was ever this close to Mike Lawson, they were surrounded by other people. Now here they were, sitting in the bed of a pickup on a deserted road. It was like they were teenagers parking, only without any of the making out. As Ginny was all too aware.

“Getting comfortable,” he drawled, eying her askance. Once he’d settled in, leaning back on his hands, he let out a gusty sigh. “I’ve been on my feet since 6:00 AM.”

Ginny didn’t need to check her watch to know it was well past 9:00 now. She elbowed him, and replied to his affronted expression, “So you should be going home. Not waiting around in the dark for a tow truck that’s still twenty minutes away.”

Why she didn’t tell him that they didn’t, actually, have to wait at all—could, in fact—leave the truck for Lou to pick up, Ginny couldn’t say. Probably, she didn’t want to impose, didn’t make him drive all the way to her house when he’d done such a marvelous job of avoiding lately.

“I think that’s a pretty good reason for me to stay, actually,” he responded, dry as kindling. “Can’t go around abandoning damsels in distress, can I?”

“Such chivalry.”

“Someone’s gotta keep real manners alive.”

“Well, you’re not much good to me if you’re falling asleep,” Ginny grumbled, feeling warmth rise up her chest. She’d made the mistake of turning to look at Mike, and nearly lost her breath. His eyes were closed, face relaxed and tipped up into the cool night air. He seemed so at ease. Even just sitting on the corrugated metal of her pickup’s bed.

He laughed, low and rich and the goose bumps that erupted across Ginny’s skin had nothing to do with the breeze.

“Just wake me up if someone tries to kidnap you,” he said, laying back and getting comfortable.

She didn’t reply, or even look at him. Just curled her fingers around the edge of the tailgate and tried not to flinch as his automatic headlights went out, plunging them into darkness. With only the moon to illuminate them now, it all felt dangerously intimate. Which was ridiculous. Just because Ginny thought he looked perfectly climbable (and there was a thought she shouldn’t be having about her friends, no matter how their jeans clung to their thighs) didn’t mean—

Her phone buzzed just in time. Before Ginny could become too aware of the sound of Mike’s breathing next to her, or the warmth of his thigh practically pressed against hers.

Eager for the distraction, she pulled it out to see a message from Blip.

Hey, Lou said you’re stuck somewhere on Route 11. Do you need me and Ev to come get you?

Jesus, news traveled fast around here.

“Who is it?”

Mike’s voice was a little dreamy, distant enough to make Ginny turn and look at him against her better judgment. His arms were tucked behind his head, biceps straining against his sleeves in a way that was embarrassingly familiar. In the dim glow from her phone, Ginny could make out one eye open and squinting towards her.

“Uh.” She swallowed and made the plunge. She couldn’t sit out here in the dark with Mike Lawson for much longer. “Lou. He said I should find a ride because the pile up north of town is taking forever to untangle. I can leave the key under the seat.”

Automatically, Mike pushed himself upright, only groaning a little on the way. “All right, let’s get going, then.”

Still, Ginny hesitated. “You sure?”

“Huh.” He paused, like he was thinking it over. “Now that you mention it, yeah. I’m gonna go ahead and leave you here alone.” Ginny didn’t laugh, so he leveled her with a wry glare even as he offered her a hand down. “C’mon, Baker. I’m takin’ you home.”

Trying, and mostly failing, to rein in her grin, she took his hand and followed him back to his car.

The ride was pretty quick, passing easily as Ginny and Mike traded bits of news and gossip. You heard Salvamini’s wife is pregnant again? They think it’s twins this time. Natalie Luongo and Oscar Arguella think they’re doing such a good job at this secret dating thing, but half the town’s talking about them anyway. Tommy Miller got in another brawl with Theo Falcone; he’s lucky he didn’t break his other hand this time.

In no time at all, they were pulling up to Ginny’s house, which was looking more and more like a place someone actually lived. When it wasn’t pitch dark, the blue shutters stood out cheerfully against the window boxes of yellow and white tulips. A jasmine vine curled over the front door, and wafted its scent through the open windows. The place had some curb appeal again.

Mike parked and killed the engine, but Ginny didn’t make a move to get out. She didn’t want this moment to end yet.

“You painted,” Mike pointed out, rather obviously.

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling a well of words bubble up and not knowing quite how to stop them, “that dingy tan wasn’t working for me. Maybe white’s a little on the nose for a seaside cottage, but I like it.”

“It looks good,” he said, a little too surprised for Ginny’s tastes.

“Thanks,” she replied, dry enough to make him chuckle. Then, in the interest of fairness, she added, “I did have help.”

“So I heard. By all accounts, it’s gone pretty well.”

“All accounts, huh? You gossiping about me, Lawson?”

In the darkness of the car, it was hard to tell if his ears flushed a dull red the way she’d sometimes seen them do when he got caught out in a lie. Still, he tried to play it off, saying, “You hear things around town.”

“Uh huh,” Ginny said, grinning wide and not bothering to conceal it.

He rolled his eyes. “When basically everyone you know is doing something, you hear a lot about it.”

“When everyone you know is doing something, you’d think you might check and see what all the fuss is about for yourself.”

When Mike remained stubbornly silent, refusing to meet her gaze, Ginny’s eyes narrowed. She let herself wonder why exactly Mike had not once shown up when most of his employees and friends—though, okay, the Sanders were the only people in town Ginny could say with any certainty Mike actually liked—were helping her out. Even Al had finally warmed up to her persistent small talk. 

(But only after she mentioned having to go see his daughter Natalie after an unfortunate incident involving a hammer and both of Ginny’s thumbs. As it turned out, Al could take a shine to anyone who gave one of his children a compliment. Well, if someone had told Ginny earlier, she’d have been singing the Luongo girls’ praises as soon as possible because she definitely could’ve used that Friends and Family Discount back when she had no idea what she was doing. Now that she mostly knows what she’s doing, it’s still pretty handy, though.)

But Mike had remained curiously absent. Conspicuously absent, now that she thought about it.

“You sent them all, didn’t you?” she demanded indignantly, things falling into place. “You felt bad for me and told everyone I was in over my head!”

“No,” was his immediate response, sure and firm. “I maybe suggested to Blip that Evelyn check up on you, but everything after that was all her. And you, too. You won over people on your own.”

Ginny frowned, trying to hang onto her annoyance even as it fled as quickly as it’d come. “I could’ve done it on my own.”

“I know that,” Mike replied, easy as anything. “But you shouldn’t have to. You know how many people have tried to take on this house and failed? More than I can count. Here you are, though, all on your own and refusing to back down no matter what gets thrown your way. Kinda blows me away.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just ducked her head and smiled. When she finally felt up to it, Ginny glanced at Mike through the screen of her eyelashes. This time there was no mistaking the flush riding across his cheeks.

“Thanks,” she murmured, shy.

“It’s just the truth,” he said, trying to frown forbiddingly like if he was gruff enough now, Ginny’d forget the soft center hidden behind all that sarcasm and flannel.

“Okay,” she replied, opening her door and flooding the interior with light. Mike blinked, and he looked so endearingly startled, Ginny couldn’t help the next words that came out of her mouth. “Wanna come in and see the progress?” At his hesitation, she teased, “I bet it’s been killing you not to tell me exactly what I’ve been doing wrong.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was already pulling the keys from the ignition. “Fine. But only so I can make sure you haven’t ruined all my hard work.”

“I mean, if you’re pulling everything down to the studs and changing the entire layout, can you even call it a renovation anymore? It’s basically new construction.”

Ginny, who had no horse in this race, just shrugged, making Mike scowl a little. Well, a little more than he already was. It didn’t seem to matter how good of a mood he was in, he was usually scowling at least a little. It made his grins all the brighter.

Except, Ginny had other matters on her mind right now. Well, other matters that should be on her mind. Namely, installing the new faucet she’d picked out for the kitchen sink. The old one had sprung a leak and was ugly as sin, anyway.

Mike had offered to put it in for her, but Ginny’d gotten this far without his help; he only showed up after she’d gotten the old one mostly taken apart, after all. She wanted to finish it herself. He accepted that easily enough, but still claimed he was going to stick around to “supervise.”

If “supervising” meant complaining about the current lineup of HGTV shows, he was doing a bang up job.

He had, at least, managed to keep her from giving up in frustration when it turned out the old faucet was basically rusted into the water pipes. He’d deigned to wedge himself under the sink and put some elbow grease into the wrenching required to free the plumbing from the leaky faucet. If Ginny’d appreciated the picture he’d painted, his shirt riding up a little over his stomach, more than the actual help, that was her business.

Mostly, that was par for the course when Mike came around. He didn’t do much actual work around the house, but he’d show up and look over what she’d accomplished since he was last there. Every so often, he’d be her muscle, wrestling a door into the frame or helping her move around furniture.

More often, though, he was just eye candy.

Not that Ginny ever planned on telling him that.

“Seriously,” he continued, leaning heavily on the counter as Ginny finished tightening the new handles and checked over the coupling between faucet and pipe, “what’s the point in buying a old house if you’re just gonna rob it of all the things that make it unique?”

“What do you do when someone wants to knock down all the walls in a house, then?” she asked because she couldn’t help herself. “Just tell them no?”

“With more tact than that.” At Ginny’s snort, he straightened and pointed a finger at her. “I can be tactful. I can be downright charming when I want.”

Ginny snorted again and set aside her wrench. “Sure you can. You think I can try turning this on?”

Mike shrugged, though he did run a critical eye over the setup. “You can definitely try.”

Since that was as good as she’d get, Ginny ducked down to turn the water on again. When she straightened, his eyes didn’t dart away from her, but there was a hint of pink blooming across his cheeks. Biting back a smile Ginny paused with her hand poised dramatically over the handle. “Moment of truth.”

He rolled his eyes, but came to stand next to her. “All right, Baker, let’s see what you’ve got.”

She flipped the handle and beamed as water began to flow from faucet head. Ginny turned to preen up at Mike, but before she could annoy him into congratulating her, an ominous hissing sound came from the kitchen sink.

In horror, they both turned and watched as the stream slowed to a trickle and stopped for a moment as the pipes began to rattle. Then, right from the base of the faucet, a gushing spray of water burst forth.

“Shit!” Ginny shrieked, ducking away from the sputtering faucet and right into Mike’s warm, firm chest. His arms, which had been reaching around her to fix whatever she’d done, now caged her in, right in the path of the spray. She cringed back from the cold water, further into his embrace. “Mike, move!”

She had to duck under his arm to get out of the way, since he didn’t react quickly enough. Any thrill that she had at being caught up in Mike’s arms was dampened by the situation.

Literally.

Water dripped from her hair into her eyes, and she could only imagine where it hit Mike as he took the full brunt of the spray now that she wasn’t shielding him. He squawked a little, flinching away. Ginny scrambled to reach into the cabinet and shut off the valve.

The spray stopped and kitchen descended back into quiet. Ginny straightened and took in the sight before her.

Mike stood, dripping water like an angry cat. Drops fell from his hair and beard and rolled down his already soaked flannel. It clung to him like a second skin, which was not what Ginny should’ve been taking away from this, but she was only human, okay?

He dashed water out of his eyes and glared as giggles helplessly fell past Ginny’s lips. She covered her mouth with her hand, but she couldn’t stop. She shook her head in apology, but that just made her ponytail swing from side to side, splattering them both with more water as it went. Mike’s grimace finally lightened, his own mouth twitching as he struggled to keep his own laughter in.

When it burst out, it mingled with Ginny’s, a harmony she’d never get sick of hearing.

And there was a thought she shouldn’t really be having. Mike was her friend, and that was all. Get over it, Baker, she told herself, trying to school her features and take a deep, calming breath.

“C’mon,” she said. “I just had the washer and dryer put in. We’ll get your shirt drying and then come back and clean this up.”

“Did you pay someone to come and install it?” He frowned, following her anyway to the hall closet that now doubled as her laundry room.

“No, they do it for free when you buy the warranty.”

“Yeah, ‘cause the warranty’s already a rip-off,” Mike grumbled, stripping off the sopping wet flannel. The white t-shirt he wore underneath was a little damp, though it already fit across his chest in a way that, ironically enough, made Ginny’s mouth go dry.

She blinked and turned to fiddle with the machine’s controls, pulling off her own soaked sweatshirt and tossing it inside with Mike’s flannel. Her tank top had a few damp patches, but it was a dark red and didn’t present the same issues as Mike’s. And there definitely wasn’t a part of her that wished that it did; if there was no reason for Mike’s eyes to go dark with desire, there was no reason to be disappointed when they didn’t.

“Well,” Ginny finally made herself say after getting the dryer started, “I didn’t have much of a choice. If I can’t even install a kitchen faucet correctly, I don’t think there’s much hope I could’ve handled this.”

“You would’ve been fine,” Mike replied with a certainty that always made Ginny’s gut tighten in gratitude. For all he’d been so skeptical of her ability to let someone else fix this disaster of a house, Mike definitely didn’t think that now. And every reminder of that fact, his quiet belief, bolstered her on. “And you could’ve called me, y’know.”

“I could’ve?” She eyed him sidelong, sure that if she faced him head on, she’d do something stupid.

Stupid maybe, but also so, so satisfying.

“Yeah.” There was no eye roll this time, which made Ginny turn and lean one hip against the rumbling machine. Mike’s face was open, even a little fond. “You could’ve. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Ginny’s smile froze and she found herself nodding automatically. When Mike’s brow furrowed, she rushed to cover up any of her disappointment. “I’ll keep that in mind, old man.”

Mike just laughed and shook his head. “Old man, huh? Now I’m definitely not telling you how to fix your faucet.”

He eventually did, but only after Ginny’d pouted at the offending object for a full five minutes, unsure of where she’d gone wrong. When he finally came over to lean against the counter beside her, she soaked up both his advice and his body heat and tried to tell herself that just friends stood this close all the time. And just friends smiled at each other just like this, too. And just friends thought about how easy it would be to pull one another into their bedroom and become more than just friends.

Okay, maybe that was just wishful thinking.

(It definitely was.)

Later, Ginny would blame that for what she did next.

When she turned on the faucet again and they weren’t treated to a second impromptu shower, she maybe forgot herself. Just a little.

Before she really thought about what she was doing, Ginny’d flung her arms around Mike’s neck, laughing in delight. Immediately, one of his arms wrapped around her back, his big hand splayed out over her ribs and pulling her in. Not that she needed much encouragement, rolling up onto her tiptoes to stay as close as possible. She hid her smile against his shoulder and only pulled back when he did. For a long moment, they stared each other in the eyes, Mike’s hand still firm on her waist, fingers flexing. She was so, so sure, something was going to happen. 

She wanted something to happen.

And Ginny would swear that it was going to, except—

His phone rang.

Even hours later, as she lay in bed, Ginny couldn’t get the feel of him pressed so tight against her out of her head. The way he smelled, the sound of his pulse near her ear, it all played over and over, making it impossible to sleep.

There was no way her dreams would live up to reality.

What also made it impossible to sleep was the way he’d stepped away to take the call and dismay rushed in to take his place. For a second, she couldn’t quite look at him, feeling like her cheeks might really burst into flames if she did. Nonetheless, Ginny could feel his eyes on her, even as he listened and nodded along to whatever he was being told. 

She lifted a hand to her lips, telling herself she couldn’t still feel his breath on them. Her heart threatened to pound its way out of her ribcage, but it wasn’t panic. No, it was thrilling and electric, bright enough to make her feel like she could take off flying.

As soon as Ginny came to this realization, Mike ended his call and disheartening silence rang between them. 

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, looking anywhere but her. For her part, Ginny couldn’t look away now, cataloguing the bob of his Adam’s apple and the almost invisible spray of freckles across his nose. 

She might as well, since she had a sinking suspicion she wouldn’t be seeing much more of them in the near future.

Sure enough, Mike made up some excuse—offering up far too much information about the lumber crisis Blip was having for it to be anything but a lie—and was out of the house before she could protest.

No matter how much she’d wanted him to kiss her, he hadn’t.

And she was starting to think he never would.

That didn’t gut her. Not even a little bit.

In spite of her slightly inconvenient—because, really, he’d given no real indication that he wanted to be anything other than friends—feelings for Mike, life did go on. So, while Ginny tried to get over her stupid crush, she also threw herself into finishing up the last repairs and furnishing her house.

In a whirlwind of determined activity, from which there was one conspicuous absence, Ginny threw herself into finding the perfect area rug or refinishing the desk that would go in the guest bedroom or hanging the swing for the back porch.

Anything to take her mind off that absence.

Not that it was all that easy to do. For all Mike had made himself pretty scarce lately, it seemed like he was all anyone wanted to talk about. Everywhere Ginny went, people were dying to give her updates. She heard through the rumor mill that he’d taken on a huge project up near LA, run into his ex-wife, and hadn’t been back in town for weeks.

Well. That was fine. It was even fine that people always seemed to give her this gossip with sympathetic smiles and pitying looks.

Ginny didn’t need his help. There were plenty of other people who would help her out.

And soon enough, all that help and hard work had paid off.

The ramshackle little beach cottage she’d bought on impulse a little more than three months ago was finally finished.

To celebrate, Ginny invited everyone who’d played a role in buffing her diamond in the rough to its current shine to a housewarming party. She set up a bonfire out on the beach and bought enough marshmallows for her own Stay Puft Man. That was exactly what a grown up housewarming party needed, right? S’mores.

For other food, Cara, her barista friend and the woman who’d kept her fed while she was functionally kitchenless, brought all the leftover pastries from the café and Al insisted on manning the grill. Natalie put in an appearance, too, strategically timed so her dad wouldn’t notice she and Oscar showed up in the same car. Of course, so did all the guys from Mike’s crew, along with Blip and Evelyn and the boys.

She even invited Mike, though she didn’t really expect him to show up.

Which, of course, meant he had to go and make an appearance, anyway.

It was late into the evening before he showed up. Well after some guests had already been and left. Still, there were enough people milling around not to make his presence too strange.

Ginny looked up in the middle of a conversation with Sonny and Butch, and even before she caught sight of him, frowning faintly at the arrangement of furniture in the front room she knew he was there. She actually liked her delightful hodgepodge of things. None of it was supposed to go together, not when she’d found it all at estate sales and salvage yards and antique stores, but once it was in the room, it felt like home.

For some reason, it felt even more like home with Mike standing there, too.

Like her weeks of disappointment meant nothing at all, Ginny felt the flutters erupt back to life in her stomach. God, she’d missed him, no matter what she’d told herself.

She made vague excuses to Butch and Sonny, ignoring their smirks and knowing glances, and made a beeline straight for him.

“You made it.”

Mike looked up from inspecting the cushions she’d put on the window seat, maybe startled, maybe not. “You invited me.”

“And I never heard if you were going to come or not.”

“Sorry, I can—”

“No,” Ginny blurted, reaching out when he turned over his shoulder towards the door. She stopped herself just in time from taking hold of his wrist. Her hand fell back to her side, dangling limply. “I was just surprised.”

He nodded, and an awkward silence descended over them both.

Ginny searched for something to say, chewing on her lip and looking over her remaining guests, all of whom were very studiously avoiding this area of the living room. A hot flush started to climb up Ginny’s cheeks.

Just as she was about to make an excuse to leave herself, Mike broke the quiet, gesturing to the eclectic mix of furniture. “Where’d you even find this stuff?”

“Here and there. Evelyn reads the obituaries so she can get a jumpstart on all the good estate sales.”

He snorted and Ginny felt her shoulders relax. Like that was the cue he’d been waiting for, Mike offered her a soft smile.

“I can’t tell if there’s a theme or not,” he grinned, taking in the wingback chair placed next to a Lucite side table. “Am I missing something?”

“Unless ‘Stuff I Like’ is a theme, not really.”

“Not if you’re planning on a career as an interior designer, it’s not.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose, the prospect of having to do all this again making her head spin. “I think one house was all I had in me.”

“That’s a relief,” he said, grinning but still making it sound nothing like a joke. “I’ve had more than enough of interior designers.”

She shrugged, but didn’t bother to wipe the exuberant smile off her face at the certainty in his voice. “Good thing I like my job, then.”

“Good thing,” Mike agreed, his head tipping at a slight angle to take her in. 

Ginny simply looked back, the flutters in her stomach now a veritable rush of quivers. Hope clogged up her throat, making her eyes shine.

He shifted, his shoulder closing in on her, creating a pocket of space, just for them. In response, Ginny could feel herself rock forward, just ever so slightly, onto her toes, ready for whatever move Mike might make. Just as he opened his mouth to say something more, something that looked so promising, Livan called out for Ginny from the kitchen.

Ginny shouted a reply automatically, but by the time she’d answered to his satisfaction and turned back, Mike had closed his mouth again, a bland smile on his face.

“I’ll let you get back to everyone.”

“Okay,” she agreed, prompt and more than a little hollow. But what was the point in that? Ginny was sick of missing opportunities with one man when she didn’t let any others slip through her fingers. “Don’t try and leave without saying goodbye, though.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and nodded a polite agreement.

In all honesty, she didn’t much expect him to keep his word on that front.

So, it was with something of a jolt that much later, while taking a short break from collecting the empties littered across the sand behind the house, Ginny looked up and caught sight of Mike through the window above the sink, sleeves rolled up his arms as he washed dishes. He was the only one left in the house, everyone else long gone.

She blinked, but he was still there when she opened her eyes.

He hadn’t left. She would’ve sworn he left.

But he hadn’t.

Ginny let her feet carry her to the back porch as she processed this information. But rather than open the door and step inside, where Mike was blithely washing her dirty dishes, she sank onto the swing and tried to reorder her thoughts.

Here was what she knew:

Mike Lawson, against all odds, had gone from grumpy contractor to one of Ginny’s closest friends. Mike inspired feelings that were distinctly more than friendly in her. Mike had disappeared on her after sharing an arguably romantic moment. Mike may or may not have seen his ex-wife recently, which could have done any number of things to his mindset. Mike had come to her party.

Those were the facts. (Though nothing close to all of them. What was she supposed to do with the fact that he smelled the way fall should or that he liked alfredo sauce more than marinara? How about the fact that what he called her “constant interruptions” only annoyed him about half the time? Or the fact that she wanted to know more and more until there was nothing she didn’t know about Mike Lawson?) She just wasn’t sure what to make of them.

Before she could reach any conclusions, though, Mike’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“There you are. Aren’t you gonna come in?”

Ginny stared up at him wide eyed for a moment too long. His head tipped to the side and it was so similar to how he’d looked at her earlier tonight, eyes soft and shoulders relaxed, she couldn’t take it. Not another close call with no resolution.

“There’s so much sand in there!” she babbled instead, unwilling to give any of her other thoughts voice. “I’ll never be able to get it out.”

“You live on the beach,” he pointed out, a chuckle not quite burbling through his words.

“My house is very close to the beach,” Ginny corrected. “Which should stay outside where it belongs.”

“I’ll make sure it gets the memo.”

Ginny laughed, but when Mike didn’t say anything else, just continued leaning against the door frame like some kind of burly male model, she scrambled for something appropriate to say because “Can I climb you like a tree?” definitely wasn’t it.

“I should’ve made everyone rinse off before they came back in. How hard would it be to put a spigot right here? Or an outdoor shower? Those are things, right?”

“For you or me?” He pushed away from the door and ambled closer, making Ginny all too aware of how quickly she was breathing. Mike didn’t seem to notice, though, sinking down next to her, a warm shield against the chilly ocean breeze. 

It didn’t seem to stop her shivers any.

“Are you an option?”

It was out of her mouth, the hurt and confusion she’d tried to ignore embarrassingly clear, before she could help herself.

He ducked his head and winced. “I probably deserved that.”

She didn’t argue, just waited.

“It’s been a long time since I felt even close to the way I feel about you, Ginny,” Mike admitted to the dark. “And that scared me. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t feeling anything, but…”

“But?”

“It hasn’t worked.”

Around the knot of hopeful expectation wedged in her throat, Ginny managed a breathless, “What are you saying, Mike?”

“What am I—” He cut himself off with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m saying that I’m an option. For more than just home repair, if you’ll—”

Ginny didn’t care that he’d undoubtedly get on her case later for interrupting him again. She didn’t want to hear it, not when he’d finally given her more than a hint that she wasn’t in this thing alone.

So, she laid her hand on his cheek, turned his face towards hers, and silenced him with a kiss.

He pressed back against her, his mouth stretching to mirror Ginny’s grin before moving gently, insistently against it. One of his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close and making the swing sway. She threw her arms around his neck for the second time in her life, sighing into his mouth.

When they drew away, foreheads still resting together as their breath mingled, Ginny knew she had to say something. “You’re the only option,” was what she came up with. Thankfully, Mike’s responding grin only grew when she followed it up with, “For home repair, too.”

Their laughter twined together once again, rising into the night like smoke from the dying bonfire. But nothing about Mike and Ginny, except maybe all of the home improvement projects, was at an end.

It was a little funny. Ginny’d left North Carolina—her home, her family, and the man who wanted to marry her—in search of a fresh start. She would never have expected she’d need to buy and renovate an entire house just to find it, but just because the process wasn’t what she’d planned didn’t make the results any less sweet.

As an ocean breeze rocked the porch swing where she sat cuddled into Mike’s side, Ginny was happy to realize that she wouldn’t trade this house, or any of the headaches it had given her, for the world.

Ginny rose and turned to pull Mike up along with her. He came willingly enough, but she answered his silent question anyway.

“You missed the grand tour,” she announced, studying him from beneath her lashes.

Mike, who’d seen every square inch and worked on most of them, just quirked a brow. “Oh, did I?”

She nodded solemnly, struggling to keep her giddy smile under control. “And it might go very late. Too late for you to drive home. You’ll have to stay the night.”

Clearly, he had no such reservations about letting his blinding grin free. His cheeks appled and his eyes sparkled from the sheer force of it. Ginny didn’t get much of a chance to admire it before he was back in her space, his hands buried in her hair and lips pressing against hers. Only once his tongue had swept into her mouth, making her clutch at his broad shoulders as her knees went weak, did he pull away.

“Staying sounds perfect.”

Ginny didn’t need to hear anything else. Shy and excited all at once, she took his hand and led him inside the house.

Except it wasn’t just a house.

It had taught her how to stand on her own while still accepting the help she needed. It had given her friends and a new family all of her own. It had given her Mike, who might not want to marry her, but the thought of someday being his wife didn’t make her want to run for the hills. Which was definitely a step up from where she’d been just six months ago when she’d come looking for something new.

Maybe she was feeling a bit sappy—and who could blame her when she was still swimming through the daze of kissing Mike Lawson for the first time?—but this place really was so much more than a house.

It was her home.

(But one day, it just might be his, too.)