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hufflepuffsthunderdome · 3 hours ago

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Bikini Bottom

Schlatt x Fem!reader Summary: Reader is anxious about the scars on her legs, and struggles with wearing a bikini to the pool. Schlatt just wants to reassure them and remind them how beautiful he thinks they are. Content: she/her pronouns, fluff, angst w/ comfort, panic attacks, self criticism, body image issues, scars, allusions to self-harm or injuries (nothing specific), kissing A/N: This was based on this request from the lovely @imgayandvoreethatsall it was such a cute request I got a little bit carried away writing it so it is loooonggg.

You feel your lip wabble as you eye yourself in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you take in your reflection staring back at you. Mocking you. It was a scorching week in LA and everyone was making use of the pool that came with the Airbnb you were staying at, as they had been everyday the temperature had hit anywhere near 80 degrees.

It was a gorgeous pool, with a huge patio, deck chairs, glass fencing overlooking the LA hills, one of those stupid waterfall things that all the rich people had. You'd been spending most of your week feeling shit, despite the gorgeous background, lounging on a deck chair in your t-shirt and shorts, trying to keep your eyes glued to the pages of the book you were reading. Every now and again though, you'd look up and just eye your friends having fun in the pool. The chuckle boys were here, filming some stuff, Tucker, his wife, Ted, his girlfriend, Schlatt and a number of other mutual friends they had invited to hang out, including you.

You couldn't help the jealousy in your eyes as you looked at all your friends as they seemed to glide around the pool without a care in the world. It wasn't their fault, you loved them dearly, but it's true when they say there's a certain type of person in LA. Tall, slim, tanned, stunning. You'd watch your girlfriends as they'd sit next to the pool, their long, slim, smooth legs danging in the water, their bleach blonde hair tossed back as they laughed, sun shining off their pearly white teeth. God it made you feel ill.

You had gotten out of it all originally, when the pool talk came up, "oh I don't have a swim suite," you had told Ted, cringing at the disappointment on the faces of your friends as you shrugged softly, "I'll come sit out there though."

But as the temperature kept ticking up, your friends kept asking, and by god did you wanna use the pool. So you bit the bullet, fucking chewed and swallowed that thing more like, and went out and bought a bikini.

It was cute, you had to admit to yourself as you look at yourself in the mirror, and if it was anything else you'd be fawning over yourself in it. It was some ruffly thing that hugged your chest great, high waisted bottoms cupping your ass and stopping just below your belly button. As cute as it was it did nothing to cover your legs.

You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you look down at them, sucking your lip between your teeth to stop the flood gate from opening. Long scars litter the sides of your upper leg, some red, some pink, some white, staring up at you mockingly. It 's embarrassing, walking around with these stupid lines on your legs. While everyone else is model esque perfect, you're covered in the permanent reminder of your past. Of pain and suffering that taunt you, knowing you've missed that chance at perfection.

A soft knock at the door startles you away from the mirror as it creaks open the tiniest bit at your silence. "Y/N?" you hear Schlatt say, his accent thick on his tongue as his tone is soft and gentle, "you ok?"

You hum, as you quickly scramble for your shorts, pulling on the board shorts over your legs as you open the door, plastering on a smile as you look up at Schlatt, "hey, I'm good yeah."

He laughs as he moves out of the way, letting you step out of the room, "I thought you got lost in the bed sheets."

You laugh softly as you walk with him out to the pool, tugging on your shorts when you feel them ride up the tiniest bit, "I was just hyping myself up." you admit softly as you feel your face warm up at your confession.

"For what?"

“You know,” you say as you motion down to your bikini, stomach tensing when you feel his eyes trail down your body. Schlatt next to you swallows thickly as he looks over your body, admiring the way the bikini top hugs your chest, the way the shorts hang off your hips so enticingly.

“You coming swimming?” he asks, as he snaps his eyes back up to your face, furrowing his brow at the anxiety on your face. Your small nod is all he needs before a grin is breaking out on his face and he's hoisting you up into his arms the second your feet hit the outdoor patio. You squeal in delight as you thrash around in his arms, his gaze loving as he beams up at you as you squirm. “Look who I dragged out,” he calls out excitedly as your friends cheer, ignoring your shrieks of protest as he strides over to the pool, howling with laughter as he unceremoniously drops you into the water.

Everyone's calmed down a bit as the afternoon wears on, lounging in or around the pool as they chat happily. You're standing over with Schlatt and your friend Amy as you all chat, your body pressed up next to Schlatt as you lean against the wall.

"I wanna get a photo," Sophie, a girl you don't know super well says excitedly as she stands up from her towel. Some people excitedly shuffles over to the fence of the property, overlooking the hills, Amy grinning down at you when she pulls herself out of the pool, "you coming?"

You hesitate as you look at her outstretched hand, going to reach out for her to help you out before Sophie's valley girl voice cuts you off, "maybe the next one Y/N? Like we love a 2000s chic board short look but... this one's for the 'gram," she says as she stares at her phone, not even looking up at you, "you know how it is."

A tense silence falls over the pool as your friends stare at Sophie in shock, a few people you don't know super well humming in agreement, as you let Amy pull you out of the pool none the less. You look at Amy to see the shock already on her face, turning to meet Schlatt's eyes and see the anger burning behind his iris.

"Fine," you mumble as you push the shorts down your legs, taking a deep breath as you push yourself forward and walk over to where the girls are lining up, "am i 'gram ready now?" you say, sickly sweet as Amy laughs next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

Schlatt stares in awe at your confidence, as much as he can tell you're putting it on. He loves seeing you like this, unwilling to take anyone's shit, it's hot in a way he's not brave enough to admit out loud. He lets out a low whistle as he moves over to the other wall, closer to where you're all waiting to take the photo, "yeah Y/N," he says as he claps, smiling to himself as he watches you blush and turn your head into Amy's neck to whisper something to her. He wolf whistles at you while you take the photo, not so subtly hyping you up as he admires you, watching as you laugh at his antics and cling to Amy as Tucker snaps pictures of all of you.

"That was incredible," he says, a proud grin plastered on his face when you get back in the pool, "you've got the biggest balls of anyone here, shutting her up like that.”

That makes you throw your head back and laugh as you sink back into the pool next to him, placing a hand on his bicep to help you in, "thanks for hyping me up."

"You don't have to thank me," he says sweetly as he takes a gently hold of your waist and helps you in, "that's what I'm here for."

Sophie didn't even end up posting the photos, you think she got her ego hurt a bit by everyone teasing her about her 'gram for the rest of the afternoon. But Amy did, and you couldn't stop tearing over them.

They were cute photos, some of the group, some of just the two of you she had taken, but god you couldn’t stop looking at your legs. You should've put your shorts back on, Amy wouldn't have mind. you should’ve asked her even to edit them, she would’ve said yes, but you couldn’t face the embarrassment. Instead, you just sat here, feet danging in the water as you zoomed in on yourself, not even daring to open the comments.

"Hey," you hear Schlatt's voice say as he approaches you from the house, hand coming over your shoulder to hand you a bottle of something that you take eagerly. He smiles down at you as he sits down, rather ungracefully next to you, legs joining yours in the water with a splash, "you alright?"

That's something you always admired about Schlatt, his ability to turn it off and just be with you when you needed it. He was undeniably loud and in your face when he wanted to be, but he had this ability of reading the room like no one you've ever met before, knowing when you needed someone to just sit and talk. You look up at him and nod as you sip your drink, turning to look back at your phone next to you.

"What's wrong?"

You let out an annoyed groan as you lay back on the tiles behind you, unlocking and handing him your phone. There's no point hiding it from him, he has a way of reading you, you might as well just show him.

He scrolls across the pictures Amy posted, smiling to himself when he sees the one of you with her, tilting your head back and laughing, "what's wrong with these? They're cute."

"Cute?!" you say as you look up at him wide eyed, "omg cute?! Look at my legs," you groan, "ugh it makes me wanna puke."

"Your legs?" he asks as he glances at you, face scrunched up in confusion before he looks back at the phone, "what's wrong with your - oh," he says as his eyebrows raise when he notices what you're talking about.

"Oh god it's so bad isn't it?"

"What? No, no I didn't mean it like that," he says as he zooms in on your legs, taking in the sight of the scars littering them that he's never really taken note of before. He's seen them sure, but he's always been too focused on the soft curves of your thighs to ever really notice.

You're both silent for a while before he speaks, "is this why you haven't been swimming with us?" You just nod as you take the phone back from his hands, zooming in on yourself again as you sigh.

He glances down at you next to him as he takes in your sad expression, feeling his heart ache as he watches your slumped figure stare intently at your phone, "you have an even bigger dick than I thought then for earlier."

You laugh softly as you roll your eyes, looking up at him as you nudge him, sitting up again. "But seriously," he continues, "I'm proud of you," he says as he looks down at you, taking in the way your face is lit up in the dim blue light of the pool.

"Really?" you whisper back, leaning into his side the tiniest bit as you seek out his warmth.

"It's not easy, putting yourself on display," he says as his eyes flick down to your legs for the tiniest second before meeting your face again, hand twitching at his side as he fights the urge to reach out and touch you, "especially when you're worried about something like that."

You nod silently as you fully lean into his side now, resting your head against his arm as the two of you enjoy each other's presence. It feels nice, to feel seen like this, to have someone who notices you, faults and all, and is here anyway.

"When I started gaining weight, it took me ages before I was willing to swim without a shirt on again," he admits as he snakes an arm around to rest on the tile next to your hip.

"Really?!" you ask as you look up at him, turning slightly to rest your chin on his arm as you watch him stare down at the water.

"Oh yeah, like so long," he nods as he moves his legs in the water, watching the way it ripples around his movement, "I was just convinced that everyone would be staring at me the entire time," he shrugs, "and like, sometimes people do you know? I'm not gonna lie... but most people didn't even think twice about it. And if they did they didn't care."

"Do you think anyone noticed my legs today?" you ask as you pull away, looking up at him pensively as you think back on the day. It's hard to remember if the burning of people's gazes on your body was real or just your anxiety convincing you it was.

"Honestly?" he asks softly and you nod, "probably not. Like not in a bad way, just like, I don't think most of our friends really pay attention to that sort of shit."

There's a moment of silence before he's laughing as he looks down at you, "I know I for one was more focused on these puppies," he says as he dramatically and blatantly staring at your chest, "awooga," he says as he hangs his tongue out and dramatically pants.

"I hate you," you say as you fall apart laughing, pushing him away from you and watching him dramatically fall into the pool.

"Don't look so hot and we won't have a problem," he laughs when he comes up to the surface, laying on his back and flailing a bit as he attempts to float.

"You're so unbuoyant?" you question as you stare at him confused, howling in laughter as he flails around.

"Oh yeah like you can do any better," he says as he faux glares at you, fighting the smile creeping onto his lips at the sound of you laughing.

You bite your lip as you smile giddily, pressing your hands against the edge of the pool and slipping into the cool water as you feel it envelope you, "I'm a goddamn pool floatie, I'll have you know."

You lay back in the water, and let yourself float, the rhythmic pattern of the pool jets whirling through the water as it surrounds you, calming you. Your breathing sounds impossibly loud as you take long and deep breaths, but you open your eyes to find the night sky staring back at you. It's not often you see starts in LA, but the few twinkling in the night right now ground you. It's just you, Schlatt and the sky right now, the way you like it.

You flip back over and dunk under the water, pushing your hair back out of your face as you swim up and smile up at Schlatt, "told you so," you tease, but find him already staring at you.

He's looking at you, lips parted slightly as he leans against the wall of the pool, arms resting on the side as his eyebrows raise when you meet his gaze. It makes your heart stutter as you swim closer to him. His tongue swipes across his lower lip as you approach, hands coming to rest by his side as he looks down at you, sinking down into the water so he's closer to you.

"I'm glad you came in with me," he whispers as he smiles softly down at you, almost nervous to break the silence in the air, "I know it's not easy," he takes a deep breath as he gently brings a hand down to touch your waist, "you look amazing though."

You let out a dismissive scoff and shake your head, turning to look off into the distance as you feels Schlatt's eyes stay locked on yours, "thanks," you whisper softly, not really believing it yourself.

You feel his large hand, surprisingly delicate, take a hold of your chin gently and turn your head to look back at him. His eyes stare down at you, soft and loving as you feel the warmth rush to your face as you gaze up at him, "I mean it, you're so beautiful."

He leans in closer, just a tiny bit, but it's enough to make the water ripple around you. His hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek gently, other hand moving under the water to hover over your outer thigh. You feel the water move and you let out a shaky breath, as you bring your hand down to touch his, gently pressing it into your skin. His large hand lays delicately on your thigh for a second, before pressing into the skin ever so slightly as his thumb rubs along your cheek, "you're the most stunning person I've ever seen."

The way he says it, so soft, so earnest, filled with love and unspoken words, makes you let out a shaky breathe you didn't realise you were holding as you move in closer to him. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his hand, basking in the feeling of his warmth, his hands on your thigh, soft breath hitting your lips.

You're so caught up in the feeling of each other that you hadn't even noticed the door slide open, or the sound of wet footsteps running towards the pool until a tidal wave of water wallops you and Schlatt as Tucker and Ted laugh manically when they resurface.

"Ever the good timing fellas," Schlatt mumbles, apologetic eyes drifting to you when you swim away from him.

You had made your escape the night before, clambing out of the pool into the dark, where you could secure a towel around you and bask in your safety under it's cover and sinking into the group inside to chat happily with your friends.

Now however, as the sun rose over the horizon, you found yourself looking over your body the same as yesterday. The scars on your thighs stuck out to you like a sore thumb, but you felt better today, more confident. No one would notice and if they did, they wouldn't care, you told yourself. At least Schlatt wouldn't care, he had your back.

"Here she is," Amy squeals excitedly from where she's lounging in the pool when she sees you coming, flopping off the floatie with an excited giggle as she pushes her sunnies up her face.

"And looking fucking fine as hell I might add," Schlatt says with a grin on his face as he walks out of the house behind you, just loud enough for you to hear, bottles of beer in his hand. You roll your eyes and scrunch up your nose as you steal a beer from his hand, walking over to join your friends in the pool.

The day goes on, the sun beaming down on everyone, and you find for the first time in a long while, you're able to forget about your body. Forget about the way you look and the things you hate about it and just exist. It's not perfect, but it's a start.

Schlatt watches from the window in the kitchen of the airbnb as you play with some beach ball someone found, passing it around to people as you grin happily. He just stares, beers he came in to get getting warm on the counter as he just stands there and watches you enjoy yourself. You look angelic; sunkissed and carefree, something he hasn't seen from you in a long time.

"You'll burn a hole through her head if you keep staring," Ted laughs as he walks into the kitchen behind Schlatt, putting the beers he got out back in the fridge and grabbing cool ones instead.

“Can you blame me man,” he says, not even trying to deny that he was staring, he's played this coy denial game when Ted's asked about his feelings for you for too long to care anymore, "she looks great in that bikini."

“That's what's making you act so clingy?” Ted asks as he stands next to Schlatt, taking a sip of his beer as he hands one to Schlatt. Schlatt just nods, watching the way you move as you jump up in the water to grab the beach ball.

Ted lets out a whistle as he watches too, "I can't blame you dude," he says as he takes a gulp of his drink and dodging away from the friendly punch he knows is coming, "she is pretty hot."

More people had trickled into the Airbnb for the rest of the afternoon, as the sun slowly began to set. People you didn't really recognise, friend of a friend kinda people that were just so LA, as Schlatt had said after escaping a conversation with some surfer looking dude and retreating back to your group.

Ted and Amy had been bouncing around the new people who've rocked up, you're not sure if they're their friends or if they're both just social like that, but you, Schlatt and Tucker had retreated to your safe little corner of the pool, to just chat happily.

“Come on you lot,” Ted says as he comes around the pool to your corner, “stop being antisocial.” He whisks you all over to a large group that has formed around a tiny, shitty little fire pit, where chairs had been pulled over to form little groups.

“Some fire,” Tucker scoffs as Ted forces you all to sit down next to him, with a few other people who are chatting to each other.

“The whole city will burn down if you even think of anything bigger,” you laugh as you eye the tiny fire pit, the light from it casting you in a warm glow as you feel the water on you begin to dry in it's slight heat.

Seeming to notice your precence suddenly, the rest of your new little groups introduces themselves and begin to join you in on their conversation. They're talking about some movie they worked on recently that Ted is fascinated by, and you smile and nod along to as you listen to their stories.

They're a very sweet group, you get to know them for a while as they chat, but they're not the most tactful. They had said some weird things already, that you can tell weren't meant to be mean, but just weren't thought through before they slipped out. Something about Tucker being a bad guy for joining the military, and Schlatt's accent making him sound uneducated or some shit. Stupid stuff that the guys shrugged off.

Something you couldn't shrug off though, were the looks they kept giving you. The not so subtle glances you'd catch when they'd look at you, eyes blatantly drifting down to your legs everytime you'd talk. Unlike yesterday, you couldn’t convince yourself this was in your head. This was happening right in front of you, obviously and without shame.

They kept doing it, just openly staring at the scars up your thighs whenever you talked, as if you were nothing more than a spectical to gawk at. You weren't sure if they were even listening, or if they only pretended they were so they could get another look to judge you.

You knew what would happen, the second you all left they'd start whispering, what happened to her? How did she get those scars? Just sitting there like that, out in the open?

You couldn't breathe proeprly, your chest getting tighter everytime you felt their eyes burning into your skin. Each time they'd turn to look at you it felt hotter and closer, as if they were silently telling more poeple to look. To turn and stare at the freak, to point and laugh at your scars. God it was so embarrassing. You felt disgusting.

"I'll be back," you blurt suddenly, interupting Tucker as you stand up, knocking your chair over in the process as you fumble to pick it up, throat feeling tight when more people look over at the comotion. You push your way through the group and book it into the house, finding the first room you can, luckily a bathroom and locking the door behind you.

You tear a towel off the hanger and wrap it around your waist to save yourself having to look at your scars anymore, hands shaking as you attempt to secure it. You grip the counter as much as you can as you double over, heaving chest attempting to breathe as you stare down at the sink, gasping. Your head feels like it's spinning, eyes struggling to focus on anything as you look up at the ceiling, panting and weezing as you try to calm yourself down.

The door handle jiggles and you choke back a gasp as you try to stay silent, short shallow gasps escaping your lips as you try not to choke. It jiggles again and you manage to cough out, "occupied."

“It's me,” Schlatt's concerned voice comes from the other side, "can I come in?”

You let our a choked breath as you reach blindly for the door, unlocking it and stepping back against the wall as Schlatt pushes the door open and steps inside, shutting it behind him.

You stare up at the ceiling, throat tightening more as you feel his concerned eyes on you, heaving to bring in a breath as you refuse to look at him. It's a heartbreaking sight, to watch you like this, watch your face scrunch up in pain as you struggle to breath. He reaches out a hand gently, hovering it just over your shoulder, "can I touch you?"

You nod urgently as you finally lower your gaze to look at him, sputtering as you feel the spit pool in your mouth as you cough and choke, doubling over as you try to calm yourself down.

"You're ok," he says softly, watching you with concerned eyes as he slowly lowers you to the ground, which you happily oblige, going to pull your knees up to your chest to sooth yourself before he stops you, "sit up straight if you can."

You follow his soft instructions as your brain throbs, hazy from the lack of oxygen you're taking in. You preen at his soft praise, "that's perfect, now breathe with me ok."

His voice shakes with nerves as he watches you struggle, hands gripping your shoulders firmly as he keeps his face infront of your eyes, taking a deep breath in and nodding as you attempt to follow. "Perfect, that's perfect."

He sits with you for a while, breathing with you through the panic attack until you can breathe on your own. He feels his own breathing return to normal when you slump your head back against the wall, eyes shutting from exhaustion as your chest begins to rise and fall in a steady pattern.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, looking at you with furrowed brows as he keeps his arms firmly on your shoulders. He doesn't wanna push you to talk if you're not ready, but he desperately wants to know what happened to make you feel this way.

"They were staring," you say, voice barely above a whisper as your face scrunches up as the painful burn of their gazes return to your skin.

His face morphs to one of realisation as he glances down at the towel around your waist, heart aching at the pain across your face, "shit, Y/N," he whispers as he pulls you into a tight hug. His strong arms wrap firmly around you, bringing you closely into his chest as he buries his face in your hair, rubbing your back when he feels you exhale a shaky breath into his chest. He just wants to keep you here, in his arms, where he can make sure you know how perfect you are.

"I know it won't help with how shit it feels," he whispers into your hair, "but seriously fuck them," he presses a gentle kiss to your head as he asks, "was it that lot we were sitting with?"

You just nod as you burry you head further into his chest, trying to escape the world. His arms tighten again around you and you feel your heartbeat in your ears as he holds you firmly against him. You barley make out what he says over the static in your brain as you melt against him, something about their personalities being faker than their teeth.

"At least you're fucking real," he says as he pulls away slightly, keeping his arms tight around your waist, "real and strong... and fucking perfect."

His words warm you up from the inside as you gaze up at him, sucking your lip between your teeth as your stomach flutters. You are real, and so is he. Right now, the feeling of his arms firmly around your waist is more real and more important to you than anything else outside this bathroom.

He watches you, eyes drifting down to your teeth as they chew in your lip, his thumb coming up to gently tug it free. Running the pad of his thumb across the smooth, soft skin of your lip he can't help the way his lips part, the way his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of you, "so perfect," he whispers again as he leans in.

His thumb moves from your lips and is replaced with the soft warmth of his lips against yours, gently ghosting over yours, giving you a chance to pull away.

You pull your arms free from where they're sandwiched between you two and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You push your lips firmer against his, melting into the kiss as you push yourself against his.

Schlatt lets out a breath into your mouth he didn't realise he was holding, your lips moving against his as he poured all his love and devotion into the kiss. He wanted you to feel beautiful. To feel safe. To feel loved. He pulled you closer again, flush against his chest, sure you could feel his heart beat against yours as your lips moved in tandem. He felt the spark that everyone talks about, that spark that he always thought was some sappy shit, but right now feels so real.

You lift yourself onto your knees, kneeling with him so you're closer to his height, lips staying locked together. He was warm, and gentle, taking his time to move his lips against yours in a way that reminded you that he was here for you, nothing else. Just you, as you are. The towel shifts from your waist and drops down your legs a bit, leaving you in your bikini and him in his shorts, warm skin pressed against each other. His hand comes down to lay gently against your thigh, soft and gentle against the scars there, and you don't move, you don't flinch or shy away, instead, you lean into him more.

He pulls away panting softly, his hold firm and loving on you as he whispers against your lips, "you're so perfect."

For the first time in a long time you believe it.

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puck-luck · 8 hours ago

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new beginnings | august 5 - 11

note: this is chapter 11 of 13 (plus an epilogue). we are in the final stretch! this chapter is 19.5K.

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71:90 – TREVOR

“And another grüner veltliner for the lady,” Sarah spouts with a fond chuckle, topping off Honey’s glass.

Honey’s smile is dopey and her cheeks are growing pink from the wine. “Thank you, Sarah,” she says, sounding a whole lot like she does when she exaggeratedly flirts with Trevor.

Trevor squints at Honey.

Sarah notices first and starts to laugh. “God, Trevor, you might need to be cut off,” she laughs. Trevor turns his eyes on her. She laughs harder. “Don’t look at your bartender like that, especially not if you want to keep daydrinking on a Monday afternoon.”

“He’s just mad ‘cause I’m being sweet to you,” Honey says, propping her chin on her palm and blinking at Sarah like a cat about to nap. “He doesn’t know how to share. Very jealous.”

“She’s a married woman,” Trevor grumbles, frowning at Honey.

Honey waves her hand at Trevor, just a flick of the wrist. “She has the wine, Trev. Be sweet.”

“Don’t wanna,” he pouts.

Sarah snorts out a laugh and ruffles Trevor’s hair. “Can I get you anything else, bud? You’re not going to let your girlfriend drink alone, are you?”

“I’ll take–” Honey waves her glass in front of Trevor’s nose enticingly, but the smell of the wine stings his nose. “Not that. I don’t like that,” Trevor says, pushing her glass away. He tried it earlier. It tastes like pepper and celery and seeds. He doesn’t know how it’s her favorite. “Uh, something red. Fruity.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Honey laughs.

Trevor fixes her with an unimpressed look. She remembered this morning that he and Jack were once two participants in a very poorly-executed threesome (not for lack of trying on Trevor’s part) and she’s been milking it ever since. Her chirps were funny the first time, just because Honey has never really chirped Trevor. They’ve always been more serious digs, not chirps, that come from her mouth. But now she’s chirping and it was funny and cute at first… but now it’s getting under Trevor’s skin.

Sarah walks away after nodding in assent to Trevor, signaling that she’ll be back with his order soon.

Trevor’s look turns into a pout. “You’re so mean to me,” he complains, faking a pout. “I never should’ve told you about that threesome. We were 17, it was such a long time ago.”

“Your 17 was so much different than my 17,” Honey says with a laugh. She says it so casually, even taking a sip from her glass of wine. Trevor’s stomach turns thinking about that– how he was so carefree and happy when Honey was going through the worst time of her life. She clears her throat after swallowing her drink and says, “Hey, if you had to choose another one of the guys to have a threesome with me, who would it be?”

Trevor immediately balks. “None of them,” he replies, defensive. “Absolutely not.”

Honey laughs again. “Good answer,” she says. “You passed the test.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t let you have a threesome with Bea, either.”

“Have you?” Trevor asks. There’s something about the way she says it that makes him suspicious.

“No,” Honey says with a wave of her hand. “Bea didn’t actually start hooking up with people until we were eighteen, and I stopped having sex after the whole Thomas thing. If I couldn’t trust my partner, then why would I trust a random person, you know? We kissed once, though.”

“You and Bea? Like, recently?” Trevor raises his eyebrows in surprise.

Honey scrunches her nose at Trevor. “No, not recently,” she says. “Although she wishes she could pull the make-out trick at bars for free stuff. No, it was in middle school. It was a boy-girl party thing.” Honey grins. “I bet you loved the idea of two girls kissing when you were in middle school, Trev.”

Middle school, high school, rookie year… even now it’s not unappealing. He doesn’t seem to do a good job of keeping his face still and impassive.

“I knew it,” Honey accuses, pointing at him with her index finger. “You’re such a boy.”

It’s then that Sarah returns with a new glass for Trevor, taking the empty one from their table. “This is your last one, both of you.”

“What? Why?” Honey whines. Before Sarah can reply, she turns to Trevor. “This is your fault, you weren’t nice to Sarah.”

“It’s not Trevor’s fault, Honey,” Sarah says with a smile. “You guys asked me to cut you off at 4:30 so you could go get fruit.”

Honey groans. “So not fair. Push it back to 5.”

“Babe, you’re going to be hungover for work tomorrow if you keep drinking. I’m trying to give you time to come down from this,” Sarah reasons.

“Thanks, Sarah, we understand,” Trevor jumps in, digging his hand into his pocket to find his wallet. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Yeah, you’d better be,” she teases, looking around the patio. There are only two other tables taken and neither occupants have been there for very long. “I was super worried about running out of table space.”

Honey is sulking. She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at Sarah. “You shouldn’t turn away your patrons.”

Sarah stifles a laugh. “I think I’ll live.” She leaves the table, heading inside, and Trevor laughs when Honey sticks her tongue out at Sarah’s retreating back.

“Look who’s being mean now,” Trevor says.

“She took the wine away,” Honey returns.

“You asked her to.”

“I didn’t think she’d do it!”

“Well, baby, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Honey groans.

“But,” Trevor says enticingly. “Now we get to go to the fruit stand!”

Honey takes her glass and drinks, swallowing a mouthful before she eyes Trevor out of the side of her vision. “Who’s going to drive?”

“Drive?” Trevor asks. “To the fruit stand? We don’t need to drive. We can walk.”

“Okay, then after that,” Honey says. “Who’s going to drive us home? I’m in no state. You’re in no state, plus I wouldn’t let you drunk-drive me on the mountain roads anyway. You don’t know them well enough to even try.”

“We’ll call an Uber,” Trevor says, defaulting back to his go-to when he gets a little too tipsy on a night out.

Honey bursts into laughter. “In Litchton? Babydoll. There’s not even a taxi service in town.”

Now it’s Trevor’s turn to groan. “Well, why don’t we call Earl?”

“No, we can’t call Earl, he told me and Bea that if we ever called him again for a ride while we were drunk, he’ll make us pay for his mechanic bill. He’s had a check engine light on for like, three years, so we’re trying to wait him out.” Honey swirls the wine in her glass, then watches the legs drip down to join the settling liquid.

“I can pay for his mechanic bill,” Trevor insists. “Hello, professional athlete over here? My contract is almost six million per year?”

Honey’s jaw drops. “Holy shit, Trev,” she says. “You’re… rich. I mean, I thought you were, but I didn’t think you were rich-rich. Six million, that’s… that’s a lot.”

“That’s just my contract,” Trevor explains, backpedaling. “I don’t actually make that much. I have to pay agent fees and trainer fees and stuff like that. I only take home, I don’t know, between two and three million.”

“Oh, only,” Honey parrots back sarcastically. “That’s more than I make…” she trails off, thinking hard. “That’s more than I’ve made ever. And you make that in a year? What’s your biweekly direct deposit like?”

Trevor blushes. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” This is one of those things that makes him vastly different from the rest of the world. That’s not to say that he doesn’t love his job and all the things it affords him; Trevor actually can’t imagine living a “normal” life with a “normal” salary. Still… being called rich… it just makes him feel weird.

Honey continues to remind Trevor why she’s the world’s greatest person, because she’s quick to drop the subject. “What about our other resident threesome enjoyer?” she asks. “Could he drive us?”

Trevor furrows his brow. “Who?”

Honey chuckles at Trevor, giggling like they’re sharing a joke. She picks up her glass and sips.

Trevor laughs too, awkwardly, and picks up his own glass. He looks out toward the Appalachian mountains in the distance. There are pink flowers sprouting in the window-boxes along the edge of the patio, creeping up into eyeline. It’s so pretty here. He avoids Honey’s eyes.

“Cole, baby,” Honey says after a brief silence. “We could call Cole. He could drive us.”

“When did he– oh, yeah,” Trevor starts, then remembers. When Quinn blueballed Bea, both Jack and Cole went upstairs with her. He feels kind of stupid for forgetting. He definitely should have remembered this before Honey explained her joke– then, he wouldn’t have laughed so awkwardly and made it obvious that he had no idea what she’s talking about. Trevor hums in surprise, then stops. “Wait. But we’re on a date,” he says.

Honey nods and shrugs. “For all he knows, we’re just hanging out,” she says.

“But he’ll get sad that we didn’t invite him,” Trevor tells Honey. “And, like, they know we’re friends, but they don’t know we’re close enough friends to hang out just us.”

“Tell him we ran into each other in town,” Honey suggests. “It’s Cole. I don’t think he’ll care that much.”

Trevor stares at Honey. “He’s the most dramatic person I know.”

“More than Jack?”

“Yes, baby, more than Jack,” Trevor says seriously.

Honey scoffs. “Ugh. Can we just call him? I’m sure it won’t be that big a deal.” She tilts her head back and finishes her glass of wine. “Tell him I’ll buy him a bottle of liquor at the liquor store tomorrow after work if he picks us up.”

She’s not going to budge on this, which Trevor realizes. “Alright, Hon,” he concedes. “Once I finish my drink, we’ll go buy some fruit, and then I’ll call Cole.” He lifts his glass, which is still about half full, to his lips and drinks.

Honey stands. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” She touches Trevor’s cheek, her fingers a little more clumsy than normal. She jokes, “Chug, Trev, chug!” and heads inside.

Trevor is left alone, sipping on the remaining wine. Honey’s right, it would be easy to call Cole and ask him for a ride. It’s probably their best option. He has the car since Honey picked Trevor up from the house this morning and, to be fair, Cole was still asleep. That kind of throws their “we met in town” story out the window… which Trevor doesn’t love. As willing as Cole is to overlook trivial details, and as easily he transitions from one moment to the next, this might be too far. If Honey doesn’t want the boys to know because she’s not ready, then it might not be a good idea for Cole to pick them up.

But she’s so insistent. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk and, hell, Trevor is drunk too, but this just doesn’t seem… right.

Trevor takes a big deep breath before finishing his wine. Good timing, too. Honey has exited the bathroom and is now waving goodbye to Sarah, even blowing a kiss before she accidentally stumbles into one of the plush chairs in the interior of Wild Bloom. She’s laughing when she exits the building, eyes lighting up when she sees that Trevor succeeded in finishing his glass, just like she’d asked.

“Let’s go get some fruit!” Honey bounces onto her tiptoes as Trevor rises. She produces his card and hands it back to Trevor. “I’m thinking maybe not grapes? We’ve probably had enough.”

Trevor breathes out a little laugh. She’s so funny today– except for the overdone threesome stuff. Honey always has jokes, but she’s being very vocal today. Trevor might have to blame the alcohol.

Honey gasps suddenly, as Trevor stands and gets ready to leave the bar.

“What?” Trevor asks.

Honey is fumbling for her phone, dialing a number and holding the device to her ear. She reaches for Trevor’s hand and holds it, walking with him across the patio. She chews her bottom lip while she waits for the person to answer. When they do, she brightens again. “Hi, Bea!” She exclaims.

Trevor almost bursts out laughing. She’s acting like she would if Bea called her by surprise.

“Can you do me a favor?” Honey asks. “You remember how you owe me because I’m always opening the store for you when you’re sleeping over with Quinn?”

Trevor smiles at the ground, kicking a piece of gravel in the alley where they walk.

“I need you to pick me up and open the store with me tomorrow,” Honey says. “Why? Because I’m drunk… and I’m not driving back to my house tonight. Is that good enough?” She pauses, waiting for Bea’s response to end. “Don’t call me irresponsible for getting drunk on a weekday, you’re just crabby because you’ve been in the car for almost six hours.” Another pause. “No, I can’t get Trevor to come get me, who do you think I’m with?” Honey looks to Trevor and makes a face at him, feigning annoyance at the words of her best friend. “We’re going to call Cole. Yes, Cole.”

Trevor still doesn’t feel any better about that.

“No, babe, I gotta go. We’re almost at the fruit stand. I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. Unless you want to sleep over tonight?” Honey grins at Bea’s response. “Really? You’re not tired of that guy yet? Impressive.” She laughs. “Okay, bye. Love you.” Honey hangs up and puts her phone away, then lifts Trevor’s arm to bring it over her shoulders. She wraps her arm around his waist.

They walk the rest of the way to the fruit stand like that, leaning on each other. Honey can’t seem to help herself, running her fingertips over the fuzzy surface of the peaches. Trevor’s not carrying her bag this time because, although he tried to keep it, Honey stole it from his shoulder. Instead, he’s able to watch her move in her own way. Her movements are practiced, like muscle memory, and it reminds Trevor of how she looked the first day they met. He has a sense of deja-vu when Honey tucks her hair behind her ears and plants one hand on her hip, pursing her lips as she looks at the fruit.

“Hey, how did you know I was Greek?” Trevor asks suddenly, remembering how Honey’s eyes had illuminated when he told her his last name for the first time.

Honey looks over at him, drawing her eyebrows together.

“When we first met,” Trevor supplies. “Right here. I told you my name and you said ‘You’re Greek?’ all excited. You weren’t quite as excited after I told you I lived in Cali.”

Honey stares at him a moment longer, then she recalls the moment herself. “Oh!” She tilts her head to the side and hums, thinking. “Um, your nose? You’ve got a very Greek nose. And then I read an etymology book a while back, specifically about surnames around the world, and the Z and the -as in your name kind of gave it away.”

She’s so smart. Trevor likes her so much.

Honey breaks into a smile. “How cute of you, thinking about when we first met,” she teases. “What was your first impression of me?”

Trevor blushes, remembering exactly what he’d realized as he’d sat in the front seat of the car and looked at her from afar. “Uh, that you’re a lot prettier than the girls I know in California.” He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the concrete. “That I wanted– well, that I wanted your attention and I wanted you to like me.”

“I could tell,” Honey says, biting her bottom lip to curb the even-larger smile on her face. “You were trying really hard, Trev. It was… interesting.”

“I was interesting,” Trevor repeats. He squints at Honey and nudges her arm. “That’s all you thought about me?”

“I didn’t like you,” Honey laughs. “You bumped into me, nose in your phone, then you barely apologized, and then you came back a few minutes later and just started talking about shit, obviously lying to me about some of the details of your life. It was weird.”

Trevor tries not to pout at that. He had felt lame talking to Honey, but he didn’t realize that she’d actually found him off-putting. “You didn’t think I was cute or anything?”

Honey pauses, raising her eyebrows at him. “You’re very handsome, Trevor,” she says. She nods at him, blinking up at him in fake earnest. Trevor nearly rolls his eyes. Honey continues, “You were dressed like a bum, though.”

“I’d been in the car for eleven hours!” Trevor defends himself.

Honey reaches over and pats his cheek. “Okay, sweetheart,” she says. “Don’t dwell on it. You’ve got me now, don’t’cha?”

Trevor grins. “Yeah.” He bends down and kisses her mouth. “I guess I’ll go call Cole.”

“Thanks,” Honey says. “I’ll be here.”

Trevor nods and walks away, just about a hundred feet. He leans against the brick wall of the grocery store and scrolls to find Cole’s contact. When he finds their shared messages, he clicks along until his phone is ringing and ready.

Cole picks up in two rings. “Where are you?” he asks. “You’ve been gone all day. No note? Honestly, Z, you’re trying to kill me.”

“You were asleep when I left,” Trevor replies.

“How did you leave? The car is here.”

“Honey picked me up.” Trevor braces himself for impact, but Cole is quiet. “She had to run to Winston to pick up something, didn’t want to go alone, and I thought it might be nice to go see one of the girls I hooked up with who lives in Winston.”

Cole is quiet for a second longer, then he hums. “Okay. So… what, you want me to come out? Why are you calling me?”

Oh, now Trevor feels worse. Cole is going to hate that they went drinking without him, leaving him alone in the house. But, like… it was a date… Trevor should be allowed to go out with his girlfriend without a third wheel. “Um… well…”

Cole sighs into the speaker. “What,” he repeats impatiently.

“Honey and I went to Wild Bloom after we got back,” Trevor says. “Remember the wine bar that we went to with Ellen and Jim?”

Cole is eerily silent.

“We’re a little drunk and we need you to pick us up from the grocery store,” Trevor admits sheepishly. “We, uh, we can’t drive like this.”

The silence stretches on.

“You’re calling me for a ride,” Cole says. “After you left me at home, alone, all day.”

Trevor presses his lips together. It really does sound bad. “Yeah.” At least Cole isn’t focusing on the fact that Trevor and Honey have been hanging out all day, one-on-one.

“Fuck you, dude. I’m on the way, but fuck you.” Cole promptly hangs up.

Trevor pulls the phone back from his ear and stares at the screen. He cringes, going through the conversation again in his head. He hates making the guys– but especially Cole– mad. Cole is his happy friend. When he gets angry… oh, when he gets angry… the mere thought sends a shiver up Trevor’s spine. The horrors of angry Cole…

He shakes his head and returns to Honey. “You ready, baby?” He asks, trying to sound upbeat.

Honey clocks him immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Trevor sighs. He wanted to pay at least before talking about this with Honey. “Cole’s mad,” he says. “I knew he would be. We should’ve invited him to drink.”

“I’m sure he’ll be over it by tomorrow,” Honey tells Trevor. “Cole never holds onto things for very long.” She tries to give Trevor a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t offer the same reprieve that it normally would. Trevor hates upsetting his friends.

“Let’s just pay, okay?” Trevor replies. He pulls his wallet out and hands it to Joan, who is quick to complete the payment and shoo them along. There are a couple of other people at the stand now, so it’s getting crowded. It’s not a huge stand. Regardless of how quickly she waves them off, Joan is sure to tell Honey and Trevor that she’ll see them next week.

Honey holds Trevor’s pinkie in hers silently for about five minutes as they walk around the grocery store, buying a case of beer for Cole. A big one– Honey said she’d pay for it, but Trevor refused, and they went for the 48-pack to really try and make it up to Cole. Honey lets go of Trevor’s pinkie once they’ve purchased the beer, insisting on holding it. She gets tired of holding the case and passes it off to Trevor within three minutes, frowning exaggeratedly until Trevor relents and takes the heavy item from her.

Cole pulls up in front of the grocery store a few minutes later. He doesn’t say anything as Honey and Trevor climb into the car, except a brief thanks to Honey for the beer. His hands stay on the steering wheel and his eyes are set on the road in front of them. He doesn’t involve himself in conversation and the car ride slowly drifts into something stilted and tense.

Trevor doesn’t walk Honey to the door, nor does he put her fruit away for her. He doesn’t kiss her goodnight and barely says more than a goodbye.

Cole still doesn’t speak when they drive back to the house. He doesn’t talk to Trevor when they go inside. He goes downstairs, puts on a show, and ignores Trevor when he sits on the couch next to Cole.

The day went from really, really good to… this. Tomorrow will be better. Trevor wishes Honey was here.

72:90 – HONEY

Having Bea back is excellent, although Honey could live without the teasing over her relationship status. Fine, she called Trevor her boyfriend by accident and then made it official, but that doesn’t mean that Bea has to poke fun at Honey. It’s really not as funny as she thinks it is.

Their shift is long today, which Honey doesn’t mind. It’s National Night Out. On the first Tuesday of every August, the shops along Main Street stay open until well after dark and the citizens of Litchton are free to roam and mingle with their fellow townies. There’s a bouncy house in the grocery store parking lot for the kids, snow cone machines and carts for root beer floats lining the curb, and plenty of other games along the three-block section of road that closes down every year for the event. It’s one of Honey’s favorite days of the entire year.

She spent most of her afternoon setting up the outdoor booth that she and Bea will man after hours. Ada is planning on paying them for an entire day’s worth to extend the store’s hours– like she always does– even though Bea and Honey insisted that it wasn’t that serious and they would be fine taking their normal hourly pay. Honey still doesn’t think that sitting for five hours in the nice summer weather is worth a day’s pay, but Bea had eventually shushed her and said “This is not a thing that we should fight!”

The booth is all set up now and the ladies left the store around noon, so Honey is running out of things to do. The Reading Nook is an awesome place to work because there’s so much downtime, but Bea is currently sitting behind the cash register in Honey’s usual place, so she can’t sit and read like she normally does. Instead, Honey is curating a stack of books that they can throw on sale during NNO. She’ll probably take her break when she’s done– they get an extended break today because they’re working a fourteen-and-a-half hour day.

“Bea, can you pull up these titles and see the prices for me? I’m thinking 20% off,” Honey calls from one of the stacks, balancing a stack of books in her arms and pulling another from the shelf.

“Mmm, if you put them on the counter for me,” Bea replies. “I don’t want to yell back and forth.”

“But then I have to walk back and forth to you,” Honey complains. She peeks her head around the stack and glares at Bea.

“Babe, if we’re having a lazy-off, you know I’m going to win,” Bea says. She closes her own book, one with a red cover and a dragon-looking beast on the front, and stares at Honey. She holds eye contact for a minute and then shrugs.

Honey rolls her eyes and drops the first stack of books on the counter for Bea to flick through. She’s right– Honey prefers to be up and moving, whereas Bea is content with anything, even if it means staying in one spot for longer than an hour.

She spends the better part of the next hour walking around the store and pulling books. Eventually, Ada stops Honey and asks if she’s trying to sell out the whole store. She takes the final stack from Honey’s arms and sends her out of the store to take her break.

At first, Honey isn’t sure what to do. She already ate lunch at the store when the ladies left. She doesn’t really need a coffee, although she wouldn’t hate to have one. She could grab one. Maybe that’s something to do towards the end of her break. Honey will wander a bit first.

The air in Litchton is nice in the midst of the afternoon, if only a little heavy. There will probably be a thunderstorm later tonight. If it doesn’t happen tonight, then tomorrow will certainly be full of rain and humidity. That kind of ruins Honey’s plans for after work tomorrow– she and Trevor were supposed to head out on a hike. If the ground is all muddy and wet, then she doesn’t really want to do that. Trevor can just come over and hang out in her bed instead. She’ll do the crossword in the Litchton Local, which she’s been neglecting lately because she’s been a bit too tired to wake up so early on Thursday mornings like she normally does. Honey blames Trevor. He’s been keeping her up late.

Honey is approaching the hardware store, ready to go inside and bother Earl, when her phone rings.

It’s… Trixie. Bea’s oldest sister.

Honey blinks at the screen, then slides her finger across the surface to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, H,” Trixie greets. “How’s it going? It’s been a minute since I checked in with you.”

“...Good,” Honey replies. Trixie is correct– the last time they talked was on Trixie’s birthday in January. Bea talks to her sister more often than Honey does, for obvious reasons. Honey’s a little confused why she’s getting a call now. “What’s up, Trix?”

“I can’t call my baby sister’s bestie and see how she is?” Trixie asks, laughing.

Honey looks into the distance like she’s staring into the face of a camera. She loves Trixie, and Cece for that matter, but she’s not close enough with either sister to talk to them regularly. Sure, they check in once in a while, but Trixie had already graduated from college– early, by the way, because she’s an overachiever– and moved to the coast before Honey and Bea moved to Litchton. She’s five years older than them and a great older sister figure, but Honey is grown up. She doesn’t really need advice from an older, wiser sister anymore. She didn’t even tell Trixie about Thomas when all of that happened; it was too embarrassing. Honey is pretty sure she knows now, given that Bea and Cece know all the hairy details, but Trixie has never outright talked about it.

“You can, but I have a feeling you aren’t,” Honey answers. “You always text before you call and this time you called out of nowhere.”

“Well, Bea told me you were on break so I couldn’t call her and kill two birds with one stone,” Trixie says. “So I figured you had no good reason to ignore my call.”

So Trixie was talking to Bea just before this– if Honey is going by her gut, this will have something to do with the recent company they’ve had in Litchton.

“Yeah, I’m just walking around Main Street.” Honey’s passing Bold Brews now, so she might as well get that coffee. “Hey, what coffee should I get during break?”

“I’ve been into matcha lately,” Trixie says. “It’s more tea than coffee, but it hits the spot when all the case briefs start blurring together.”

Oh, yeah– another reason why she’s an overachiever. Trixie is a lawyer.

“Okay, give me a second.” Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and greets Joel, Bea’s ex who is actually working today, ordering a ‘Velvet Mist’ to go. It’s their matcha, with a shot of espresso, a bit of vanilla, and splash of rosewater, and it’s actually not all that bad. Honey doesn’t normally order it, usually going for the ‘Midnight Rider’ instead, but she likes a change every once in a while. The last time she ordered the ‘Velvet Mist’ was when it debuted on the menu a year and a half ago. After she pays and walks to the end of the counter to wait for her drink, Honey brings the phone back up to her ear. “So what are you calling about, Trix? Actually.”

“Ugh, fine,” Trixie relents. “You’re so stubborn. Next time we talk, at least pretend to enjoy the small talk. I miss you sometimes, you know.”

Honey accepts her drink from the other barista– she doesn’t actually know her name, which is surprising for a town like Litchton– and waves goodbye. She takes a sip from the straw and lets the taste mull over for a second. After a moment, Honey decides that it’s fine. She takes another sip. “Miss you too, Trix,” she parrots with an eye roll.

“I heard my two favorite country bumpkins got boyfriends this summer,” Trixie says. “And I was wondering if you guys would all like to come to the beach and stay with me this weekend. I want to meet your boys.”

Honey takes another sip. “Mm, where did you hear that?” She asks.

“Well, Cece told me about Quinn and when I called Bea just now, she was deflecting and being evasive and saying it wasn’t going to last past the end of the summer…”

Sounds about right, Honey thinks.

“...and then, as a last ditch effort to distract me, she told me about your boyfriend,” Trixie finishes, her tone salacious.

“She seems to have left out that my relationship is supposed to be a secret,” Honey says sarcastically. “In her effort to stop you from focusing on hers.”

Trixie scoffs. “You’re too young to have secrets. Who cares if you’re dating some guy?”

“Believe me, the boys would care.” Honey plops down on the bench outside of city hall and brings the phone to the other side of her head. She thinks about how Cole was silent and put off in the car yesterday, just like Trevor had said he would be. “They care about everything.”

“Okay, so frame it like this,” Trixie proposes. “It’s a free beach weekend. Just a group of friends going to Bea’s sister’s house and enjoying the sand, salt, and sun.”

Trevor would probably like being at the beach again, like he’s in California. The Hughes boys might like the open water– they had been whining about a “real” lake. They could experience the real ocean instead, which Honey thinks is better than a lake. Cole might… well, a beach trip might make him forget about being forgotten.

Ugh, it really does sound bad when Honey says it like that.

“I’ll talk to the guys,” Honey says after a brief pause, in which Trixie waits on the other end of the call with baited breath. “I’ll text you in like an hour, okay?”

“Sick, I’ll start preparing the guest room for you and Bea and the living room for the guys,” Trixie says. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! I can’t wait to see you, H. Hey, for revenge, don’t tell Bea until after the guys say yes. That’s what she gets for trying to keep secrets from me.”

That’s something Honey can agree with. It’s also revenge for revealing her secret to Trixie without warning Honey first. “Okay, sounds good. No promises! The guys might not want to come.”

“It’s a free beach weekend. They’ll come. Bye, Honey-bun! Love you.”

Before Honey can say it back, Trixie has hung up. Honey pulls the phone away and snorts out a laugh, shaking her head. She takes a second to drink her beverage before composing a text to Trevor.

Would Cole forgive you if I secured us all a free weekend trip to the beach? Honey asks.

Within minutes, Trevor is replying. He might try to kiss me on the mouth, Trevor says.

Wouldn’t be the first time. So Beach Trip is a go? Ask Q.

That reply comes a bit after. He wants to know how soon we can go.

Thursday?

Thursday works. Have you talked to Ada already??? What about work on Fri

I’ll talk to her now. Plan on Thursday night to drive down. See you tn for NNO?

YYES

Honey rolls her eyes at his joke and hearts the message, then puts her phone away. She’ll have to pick out a couple of books that Trevor might like for the sale. She can convince him to buy them and it’ll give him an excuse to hang out at the booth– Bea will probably sneak off with Quinn to get a snowcone or play a round of cornhole, so Honey needs someone to keep her company.

She texts Trixie on the way back to the Nook, confirming that the boys are down. She’s sure to include that there are five of them, all relatively rowdy and annoying, so Trixie should hide anything expensive before they get there.

Back at the Nook, Honey rests her elbows on the counter and faces Bea. “So you told your sister about my boyfriend to avoid talking about your own boyfriend, huh?” Honey asks knowingly.

Bea glares at her. “You know how they get about boys.”

Honey laughs. “Which means you thought it would be better to throw me under the bus? Trixie didn’t fall for it, Buzzy.”

Bea groans, deflating. She shoves her bookmark into her book and tucks it underneath the counter, on the shelf next to Honey’s book. Bea then crosses her arms over her chest. “Damn, I was hoping she’d be too excited for you and she’d forget about me.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Honey says. “And you know what that means?”

“What?” Bea asks, a tinge of exasperation in her voice. Honey revels in it. She should be annoyed. Payback for spilling Honey’s business to her family– not that it really matters. Honey was going to tell Trixie and Cece eventually, probably around Thanksgiving when they get together next.

Honey leans forward and raises a finger to tap the tip of Bea’s nose. “You bought yourself a beach weekend in Topsail. Your boyfriend already agreed to go.”

“You coerced him,” Bea accuses.

“I didn’t coerce him, I just… conveniently left out a few details,” Honey replies. She grins at Bea, who is scowling. “You’re paying for gas.”

“I’m going to make sure Trixie interrogates Trevor just as much as she interrogates Quinn,” Bea threatens. “Just you wait.”

Honey shrugs. “This all could’ve been avoided if you’d kept your mouth shut.”

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey petulatntly.

Honey laughs and reaches out to try and pinch Bea’s tongue between her fingers, just to be an annoyance, but Bea flinches away. Instead, Honey tweaks her nose and pretends to steal it like she used to do to Luca in her babysitting days. Honey waves the “stolen nose” triumphantly over her head as she walks back to the stacks, ready to pick out her next few books, and Bea overexaggerates an annoyed huff at the desk.

She might pretend like she’s annoyed, but she’ll enjoy the time in Topsail. Honey knows that she will.

73:90 – TREVOR

The hike up the mountain today is a stark contrast from the hike that Honey and Trevor first took together. For one, Honey isn’t sprinting up the mountain. Trevor isn’t chasing her, trying to catch up and ignoring the dull ache in his ankle with every other step. They’re walking up a trail named Cedar Hollow Path with which Honey seems very familiar, the sun is starting to set, and they’re hand-in-hand. It’s the picture of romance.

According to Honey, they’re less than five minutes from the peak of the mountain. They’ll stop for a break, then they’ll head back down. It’ll take about 45 minutes to get back down to the car, and then another 30 in the car.

Honey’s phone is connected to Trevor’s mini speaker, which is clipped onto his backpack. He’d told her to play whatever she wanted and she’d thrown on her hiking playlist. Trevor doesn’t recognize some of the songs, but he likes them– what he likes more is that he gets to see the kind of music that Honey likes. It feels like a peek into her soul.

He loves this, being around her in what can only be described as her natural habitat. Each gust of wind and each patch of golden light that filters through the trees reminds Trevor of the girl by his side.

The song they’re listening to now is warm like the sun. Trevor can’t say that he knows it, although he probably should. The voice of the man singing is familiar and the guitar plays an acoustic melody that makes Trevor bob his head to the beat. It’s one of those songs that could’ve been written last week or fifty years ago and Trevor wouldn’t be surprised either way. Everything seems slower while it plays and Trevor is all the more aware of each step that they take, and the way that Honey swings their hands between their bodies. Her crew socks are bunched up around the top of her hiking shoes, which are a lot more practical than Trevor’s sneakers.

At the end of the song, a harmonica comes in, and Trevor looks out at the view cresting over the horizon. There’s a neat clearing in the trees and the sun is off to their left, so they’re not blinded by the brightness that is unfiltered by the woods around them. Trevor takes in the ridges and valleys of the mountains, which seem to be bathing in the sunshower. He looks at the way the light brightens Honey’s tan, summer skin.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be in the mountains again without thinking about you,” Trevor thinks aloud, breaking the silence. He squeezes Honey’s hand when he’s done speaking.

Honey’s lips quirk up at the corners, taking a full deep breath before she tears her eyes from the view and turns to Trevor. She squeezes his hand back. “I’m really glad you came here,” she says softly. She technically changed the subject, but Trevor can’t imagine another reply working any better than this one did.

Trevor’s expression smooths out and matches Honey’s. He leans in and presses his lips to her mouth.

Honey pulls away. “Let’s snack, then we’ll head back down,” she decides. Her voice has returned to its normal slightly-bossy tone, which Trevor finds amusing. She’s so matter-of-fact all the time and she’s not shy about it.

Trevor follows her to a boulder and takes a seat with his thighs brushing hers. He swings his backpack around his shoulders and doesn’t protest when Honey snatches it from his grasp, looking in the big pocket and digging around for the tiny bag that she’d stuffed inside so that she wouldn’t have to carry anything this time. “What’s the good of having a boyfriend if he doesn’t carry all your stuff?” Honey had asked and Trevor had pretended to be annoyed, just to appease her and make her smug about getting one over on him. He would have carried it anyway, but she likes that she managed to get him to do it without actually asking him to.

She grins devilishly at him when she pulls her back out and unzips it, finding her snack and drawing it out.

Trevor groans. “You can’t be serious.”

Honey turns the banana over in her hands. “What do you mean?” She peels it from the bottom, holding the stem in her fist like it’s a handle. “Potassium means that your muscles won’t cramp as much. We’re hiking, I think it’s important that I don’t get a cramp.” She takes a bite of the fruit, sure to hold eye contact with Trevor the whole time.

“You are not as funny as you think you are,” Trevor tells her. He takes his backpack from her lap and finds his own snack– a peanut butter protein bar.

Honey shrugs. She tilts her head down slightly, blinking her eyes innocently, and slides the banana into her mouth just enough for Trevor to get the picture before biting into the fruit and chewing proudly.

Trevor has to look out at the mountains on the horizon or else Honey will keep up this behavior, dissatisfied with her performance until he’s got a hard-on. His protein bar tastes like cardboard in his mouth, but Trevor chews it resolutely, probably more forcefully than he needs to, to keep his mind from wandering.

“So Ada is letting us take off work on Friday,” Honey says after she’s done with her banana. She throws the peel onto Trevor’s lap when she is finished with it. “Which means we can leave on Thursday after work. It’s almost a five hour drive, but there will be five of us in the car, so we only have to do an hour each. Ish. That’ll be nice, I think.”

“I think Jack and Luke are going to fly into Wilmington and drive up on Thursday night. Can you send me the address so I can send it to them?” Trevor replies.

Honey waves him off. “I have Jack’s number, I’ll just text him. Cut out the middleman.” Honey rests her chin on her hand and makes a face at Trevor. “I know you said you’re bone-tired of being the middleman.”

Trevor rolls his eyes at her joke. “Tired of being Bea’s middleman,” he corrects. He pops the last bit of protein bar in his mouth and tucks his trash into the side pocket of his backpack. “I’d be your middleman any day of the week.”

“How sweet of you,” Honey deadpans, laughing to herself. She rises from the boulder and pulls Trevor up when he extends his hands.

He stands right in her space and rests his hands on her hips before she can step away. He pecks her lips once, then twice. He thumbs over the skin of her waist, which is pleasantly bare due to the heat and humidity of the day. Honey is wearing a tiny sports bra and those biker shorts she loves so much, leaving very little to Trevor’s imagination. He wants to bite her stomach and leave a hickey there.

“And then we’ll leave on Sunday,” Honey adds belatedly. Her fingertip brushes the middle of his stomach, like their minds are connected. Trevor had forgone his shirt when he saw that she’d done the same. “Because Bea said you guys wanted to go to the rink on Monday. Gotta get one last practice in at Bojangles.”

“Do you want to come?” Trevor asks. He wants her to come. Last time they went, she got into a fight with Bea. Honey should have a good experience at the rink. Plus, maybe this time she’ll agree to road head.

“Monday is the 12th,” Honey replies.

Before, when she changed the subject after Trevor said something, it was fine. He felt like her non-answer was a perfectly good response. This non-answer is more on topic, yet… somehow worse. He’s confused. Does Honey have work or something on the 12th? Is it some book holiday that Trevor knows nothing about? “So?”

Honey scrunches up her nose. “The 12th is my parents’ anniversary,” she says. “Chris and Steph are celebrating the big 3-0 this year.”

Trevor’s not sure what to do with that information. “Is that a weird day for you? Do you want to stay home? I don’t mind if you do,” he tells Honey. He takes her hand and they start down the path from which they came.

Honey bites her lower lip, chewing on it for a second. Trevor gives her the space to think, instead focusing on the song that plays through his speakers. This one, he recognizes. It’s by that guy– Jack something. The one who always makes Trevor think of Curious George. The song is Banana Pancakes.

Lots of banana references seem to be appearing in Trevor’s life lately.

“I was thinking more like… I might want to see them,” Honey reveals after a few minutes of silence. She’s hesitant to admit it, Trevor can tell. “And, well, if we’re already in Charlotte… do you think you’d, I don’t know, want to meet them?”

Trevor chokes on his own spit in surprise, although he keeps himself from coughing. Of all the things he expected Honey to say, an invitation to meet her parents was not one of those things.

“You can say no,” Honey says in a rush, like she’s covering up her tracks. “Really, you can. I was just– ugh– I don’t really want to go alone and I love Bea, but she already knows my parents, if that makes sense? Like, she has a history with them, so it would be really easy for all of us to rely on her to guide the conversation, and that’s just not fair. If I’m going to see my parents, then I should be the one to talk to them.”

Trevor still doesn’t know what to say. Meeting Honey’s parents? The parents she doesn’t talk to? That’s… a lot.

But she’s still not done talking. Her voice grows quieter, so quiet that Trevor has to strain to hear her. “I think it would keep me calm if I could hold your hand, too,” Honey mumbles.

Well, if that doesn’t damn Trevor. The second she utters those words, he’s hopeless to say no to her. Trevor’s not the kind of guy who meets the parents, considering the fact that all of his other relationships have been fairly casual and low-key, but he’s going to have to meet Honey’s parents at some point. He wasn’t exactly sure when, but it was somewhere in the distant future… or so he thought.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Trevor tells Honey. “It’ll be cool to meet your parents. I mean, it might be awkward, but I’d like to meet the people who made you.”

Honey makes a face and recoils slightly. “Don’t say it like that.”

Trevor laughs. “I thought you liked your parents,” he says. “Even though you don’t talk to them. So why are you cringing at the thought of them?”

“I like my parents a normal amount,” Honey says. “Which means that I don’t want to think about them ‘making me’ ever. How would you feel if I talked about how your parents made you? And your brother, and your sister? Those two were made while you were alive, Trevor. You could’ve been in the next room over.”

“That’s too far,” Trevor interjects, scowling at Honey. “You don’t get to flaunt your only-child-ness in that context.”

“Who says I’m an only child?” Honey asks, grinning at Trevor.

Immediately, he comes up short. Has Honey ever outright said she’s an only child? Trevor asks himself. Or is he assuming something else about her, yet again? This is like when he assumed she was from Litchton all over again…

“I’m kidding, Trev. Yes, I’m an only child, you got that one right,” Honey assures him. “But there’s something I was thinking about last night that might come up when I see my parents.”

“What’s that?” Trevor asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“They know I go by Honey, obviously. I’ve been using that name since I was in kindergarten.” Honey lets go of Trevor’s hand to walk in front of him, since the path is narrowing too much to walk side-by-side.

“Wait, Honey’s not your real name?” Trevor teases, pretending to be aghast. “All this time, I thought that was on your birth certificate. I thought your parents were just really into beekeeping or something.”

“Hardy har,” Honey jibes sarcastically. “No, Trev. You know that’s not my real name.”

Which is true, Trevor does know that Honey isn’t her real name. He doesn’t actually know Honey’s real name, since she never uses it, but he has a feeling he’s about to find out.

“I was overthinking last night and started tweaking about, like–” Honey adopts a mocking, low voice. “What if my parents feel just as awkward as I do and they call me ‘Charlotte?’ I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility.”

“Your name is Charlotte?” Trevor demands, his voice sprouting an edge as a result of his surprise. “That doesn’t fit you at all.”

“Oh-kay,” Honey replies that in the same tone, looking over at Trevor and curling her lip. She shakes her head and flips her hand up in exasperation. “It’s not like I chose it, Trevor. Also, that’s not what you say when someone tells you their name. Have you ever met a person before in your life?”

“I’ve met many people and most of them enjoy my company, but thank you for the advice,” Trevor says. “Still, though, you know what I mean. Charlotte isn’t your vibe.”

“What do you think my name should’ve been, then?” Honey challenges.

“I don’t know,” Trevor replies. “Ava or Lauren, maybe. You look like an Ava.”

He can’t see her, but Trevor has a feeling that she’s huffing and rolling her eyes.

“But, like, your name is Honey. Honey fits. That makes sense. I don’t know why they named you Charlotte, especially since you were living in Charlotte anyway. Doesn’t that get tiresome? That’s like if my parents named me Bedford– which is a terrible name, by the way,” Trevor continues on, rambling a bit and spewing whatever comes to his mind, speaking to the back of Honey’s head.

Honey turns around and walks backwards down the trail, tilting her head at Trevor and nodding exaggeratedly. Her eyes are comically wide. She holds her hands up as if she’s saying ‘Yeah, Trev, that’s exactly it.’

“They named you Charlotte because you lived in Charlotte?” Trevor asks, seeking clarification.

“Yeah, it was very creative,” Honey replies, turning back around and leading the way. Her ponytail bounces. “Charlotte was also my mom’s favorite character in Sex and the City.”

Trevor hums at that, but doesn’t reply. They continue down the slope, weaving through trees and avoiding mud puddles from the rain the right before. All the while, Honey’s music plays on.

A thought pops into Trevor’s head and he makes the joke before realizing that it’s funny. “Double homicide to Charlotte, H. First you forsake your name and then you move away? You really have something against Charlottes, huh?”

Honey steps walking and hangs her head, her chest shaking with quiet laughter. She takes takes a breath and sighs aloud, “Ohhh my God.” She turns back to Trevor and takes his hand, clasping it in both of her own. “You have got to start thinking before you speak if I’m going to bring you home to my parents, Trev. I don’t think they want you insulting the name of their city or the name that they picked for their daughter.”

She kisses his mouth, then they walk the rest of the trail in silence, hand-in-hand.

74:90 – HONEY

Taking one car to Topsail might’ve been this summer’s biggest mistake.

Really, it made the most sense. They took Quinn’s car with its three rows of seats and Honey was happy to relegate herself to the way-way back after her turn behind the wheel. Her duffelbag is on the seat next to her, containing four different outfits for the next three days, pajamas, toiletries, bathing suits, her slippers and birkenclogs, and a beach towel in case Trixie didn’t have enough at her place. The rest of the bags are in the back of the car, behind Honey’s seat.

Right now, Cole is behind the wheel. He’s actually not a bad driver, even though he’d complained about having to drive at all. He says he’s more of a passenger– which Bea had agreed with– but that excuse hadn’t worked for either of them. For Cole, it hadn’t worked because no one wanted to drive for more than their fair share. For Bea, Quinn had offered to take her place… but Honey had chimed in and explained that Bea is the person who is most familiar with Trixie’s home. It only makes sense that she takes the last driving shift– which is already shorter than the rest anyway– and is the one to pull into her sister’s driveway.

Bea had huffed about it, but she’d been outvoted. Honey thought it was only fair that she drive, Trevor agrees with anything Honey says, and Cole had been adamant that if he had to drive, then Bea had to drive too.

On the bright side, they’re more than halfway through the drive. They’re in the Siler City to Raleigh leg of the trip, which means that they’re still in civilization. The final stretch of the drive is along backroads, but Honey likes it. It’s like there’s a Litchton-style small-town-vibe on both coasts.

What she likes less is that she’s been trying to nap in the back for a little while now and Bea is starting to get annoyed with the music in the car.

They created a Spotify blend with all of their accounts. It had taken thirty minutes to get the blend set up, since Bea is against giving her phone number to anyone but Honey and Trevor. First, everyone needed to join the blend. Then, Honey had to send the blend to Bea. Then, all they had to do was hit play on Cole’s phone, since he was the one who started the blend in the first place. There were only three steps. It still took way longer than it should have.

“You can’t just skip every song that you don’t like,” Trevor fights from the seat just in front of Honey, trying to reach around the passenger seat and grab the phone from Bea’s hands. “It’s not fair to the rest of us who do like those songs.”

“No one wants to listen to ‘Devil in a New Dress’ by Kayne West, Trevor!” Bea exclaims. She leans forward and rests her head against the dashboard, out of Trevor’s reach. The phone stays between her knees, well away from everyone else in the car. “Isn’t he still, like, a terrible fucking person?”

“Your precious Taylor Swift is flying all over the world without a care about how it’s affecting the environment,” Trevor shoots back. “What is it all of her fans say when people bring that up? ‘Separate the art from the artist?’”

“Do we have to have the Taylor Swift vs. Kanye debate,” Cole tries to interrupt, sounding just as fed up as Honey.

“My precious Taylor Swift?” Bea demands, speaking over Cole. “Don't sit on your high horse and act like you hate her when I saw you singing ‘You Belong With Me’ in the mirror earlier!”

Trevor opens his mouth and closes it a few times, not having a good comeback ready.

“Kanye West is an anti-Semite who said on record that slavery was a choice,” Bea continues. “Trevor, out of the four friends that have been living with you all summer, three are Jewish.”

“Not actively practicing,” Quinn points out.

Honey thinks this is novel. It’s the first time he’s ever said anything to contradict Bea– at least, to her face. There was that one time in the car when Honey called him out for not committing and he’d said “I’m committed,” as if he wasn’t the problem.

“You’re Jewish by matrilineal descent!” Bea scoffs. “That’s, like, the whole thing with being ethnically Jewish. Do you think Kanye West gives a fuck if you’re practicing Judaism or not? He would absolutely have something against you and I don’t want to listen to a person who spreads hate!”

“Didn’t you play ‘Call Me Maybe’ two hours ago?” Trevor asks. “Isn’t Carly Rae a shit person too? Wasn’t she racist towards CupcakKe?”

Bea pauses, relenting slightly. “Okay, I don’t actually know who CupcakKe is and I’ve never heard that Carly Rae Jepson stuff, so… T-B-D on that argument until I can do some light googling. But, still, Trevor– you should not be giving your attention to Kanye.”

“Bea, I am going to be completely honest with you right now, I don’t think this is the hill you want to die on,” Trevor says, still arguing. “I feel like there are more pressing issues in the world than a singer’s beliefs.”

“He’s insanely influential, Trevor! People listen to his shit for entertainment, but there’s a very real possibility that they’ll take his word as Gospel because he’s a ‘good artist’ or whatever–”

“Can we all shut up?” Honey snaps. “It’s not this fucking serious.”

“It is this serious,” Bea tries, but stops speaking when Honey buries her face in the back of Trevor’s chair and lets out a muffled scream.

“You two are the most insufferable people ever,” Honey spits out. “No one wants to listen to you bicker like children. I don’t like Kanye West either, but you’re both being stupid and stubborn and we still have two hours left in the car. I will break the back window and throw myself onto the highway if I have to listen to any more of your bullshit. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Trevor mumbles. He looks over his shoulder and frowns at Honey, like she’ll commiserate with him at the sheer sight of his sad face. She won’t, because he deserved it. It’s partially his fault that she’s raising her voice at all.

“Yes,” Bea groans. Honey can hear her rolling her eyes.

“Yes, Honey,” Cole echoes. He actually sounds the saddest of them all and he wasn’t even in the fight.

Honey has to suppress a smile at his agreement. She doesn’t want to diminish her successful scolding by bursting into laughter. “Good,” she says, trying to hold her voice steady. “Now, if you don’t mind, I am trying to take a nap.” She promptly turns in her seat and tries to curl up as best she can without unbuckling her seatbelt.

There’s five songs of silence by Honey’s count, and then a slow country duet begins to play.

Within thirty seconds, just as Honey is deciding that she likes the song, Bea announces, “Well, this is too slow. We can’t listen to this. We’ll be put to sleep.”

“That’s the whole point,” Honey jumps in before she can skip the track. She opens one eye and squints at Bea. “Plus, I thought you hated when people– Jack– skip through songs instead of letting them play though.”

Bea scowls. “You suck. I’m not going to let you sleep in the guest room with me.”

“I suck ‘cause I’m right?” Honey laughs. “As if Trixie would let you kick me out of the guest room anyway. She likes me better because I didn’t cut off Felicity’s hair over a stupid birthday party invitation.”

“That’s not fair,” Bea complains. “Everyone got an invitation except me.”

“What happened?” Quinn asks, his growing smile looking slightly askew and crooked on his face. “Who’s Felicity?”

“Trixie’s American Girl doll, who she loved,” Honey explains. “Like, her most prized possession, and on her eleventh birthday she hand-wrote cute invitations for all of her friends and Bea was pissed that she didn’t get one–”

“Again, not fair, because you got one and you were only invited to the party because my parents let me choose a friend to hang out with that day,” Bea interrupts.

“The party was at your house! You lived there, you didn’t need a special invitation,” Honey exclaims, then turns back to Quinn. “So Bea, five years old and pissed off, sneaks into Trixie’s room and chops off all of Felicity’s hair, and puts it in a gift basket for Trixie to unwrap at the party!”

Quinn’s eyes grow wide and he starts to laugh out loud, eyes darting over to Bea.

“So Trixie unwraps it and starts crying over her favorite doll being ruined and that kills the vibe of the party, and then–”

“No–” Bea growls, turning in her seat and waving a finger at Honey.

“–Then, Bea lies about it to her mom and dad and gets away with it for a whole month, until her mom finds the scissors in Bea’s sock drawer, which had been missing since the Felicity incident,” Honey continues, entirely unafraid of Bea’s threat. “And Trixie didn’t speak to Bea for, like, two weeks and Felicity was never the same after coming back from the Doll Hospital.”

“The scissors were a plant by Cece because I put them back when I was done and she overreacted,” Bea justifies. “Felicity came back just fine, practically brand new–”

“She overreacted,” Honey repeats, gobsmacked that Bea still maintains that she didn’t do anything wrong. “You destroyed her $90 doll on her birthday!”

“I was five,” Bea says.

“You did all of that over a piece of paper written in sparkly gel pen!”

“That’s it?” Cole demands. “Bea, dude, I’ll write you an invitation to a party in sparkly gel pen right now just so you can let this go.”

“I’m not the one who brought it up,” Bea defends herself. “Honey’s the one who can’t let it go.”

“Who knew you were such a monster, baby,” Quinn joins in, reaching forward to pinch the skin on the back of Bea’s elbow.

Bea jerks her arm away. “Ugh, whatever,” she grumbles. She turns toward the window and pouts, glaring into the settling dusk. Honey isn’t worried about knocking her down a few pegs– she’ll be over it by the time the next Miley Cyrus song rolls around.

Honey actually falls asleep when Cole and Trevor switch spots after getting gas in Raleigh. Cole sings along with as many songs as he can– he actually does a rather impressive Dolly Parton– and Bea eventually joins in.

The post-debate liveliness in the car is a good sign for the weekend ahead. Honey’s really excited for Jack and Luke to drive up, too, just to reunite the group. Jack’s text announcing his ETA came in just before Honey fell asleep and they’re slated to make it to Trixie’s house about an hour after the Litchton car does.

Honey’s already planning the full beach day tomorrow. She’s going to bury Jack in the sand in the shape of a mermaid’s tail. It’s what he deserves.

75:90 – TREVOR

Trevor wakes to soft voices drifting in from the kitchen. The layout of Bea’s sister’s house is pretty open, which is great for the lighting in the place, but not great for those who like to sleep in. She lives alone, so she’s only got one guest room and that’s where the girls are sleeping. Trevor and the rest of the boys are in the living room.

Quinn and Jack are sharing the pull-out couch, Luke is reclining in the plush chair, and Trevor and Cole are sharing the blow-up mattress. The coffee table is pushed against the wall underneath the TV.

Trevor recognizes Honey’s voice after he’s done blinking the sleep from his eyes. It’s the same soft tone she uses when she apologizes for waking him up as she gets out of bed. Trevor stretches, then shifts out from under the blanket he’s sharing with Cole. He rolls onto the floor in order to minimize his chance of waking Cole and picks himself up, tiptoeing into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Trixie greets as Trevor walks into the room. She holds a mug of coffee near her chin and raises her eyebrows, which are dark, like her hair. She looks just like Bea, but her hair is nearly black. Trevor wonders if it’s dyed. “Which one are you again?”

Trevor breathes out a little laugh and sidles up behind Honey, kissing her bare shoulder. “G’morning.”

“Mm, that one,” Trixie hums. “You want a coffee, Trevor?”

She’s turning and pouring a mug before Trevor can decline. Trevor looks at the clock on the microwave and sees that it’s not even seven yet, which is typical Honey behavior. He’s been trying hard all summer to keep her in bed until a reasonable eight o’clock, but she loves her routine and she’s actually very chipper in the morning.

“You’re up early,” Honey comments, sipping from her own mug.

“Someone woke me up.” Trevor smiles.

“We weren’t talking that loud,” Honey replies. She looks over at Trixie. “Were we?”

Trixie scoffs. “God, no. I don’t reach above twenty decibels until I hit morning traffic. It’s a pretty steep jump after that.” She sets the steaming mug in front of Trevor and leans against the counter.

“Why are you up so early?” Trevor asks. “I know why she’s up, but why are you?” He points his thumb at Honey when he references her, then wraps his hand around the handle of his mug.

Trixie’s lips quirk up. “Not all of us have summers off from work.” She sounds amused. “I have to head to the office in a little bit. I have meetings today, so I’m having a cup of coffee and heading out.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Honey supplies, answering Trevor’s question before he asks. “Real estate law.”

Trevor doesn’t know anything about real estate law. “That’s cool,” he says, shrugging.

Trixie hums in the back of her throat and narrows her eyes. “I don’t know about ‘cool,’” she teases. “But it works for me.”

“Anyway, I was telling Trixie that I was going to go to the store before everyone wakes up,” Honey says to Trevor. “Do you want to come?”

“We can’t eat the food in the fridge?” Trevor asks.

“I didn’t go shopping for seven people,” Trixie says. She sips from her coffee, inspects the mug, and downs the rest of the liquid inside. “Plus, some of that shit is old. I need to clean out. You guys need to buy your own stuff. I can only provide so much to your traveling band of vagabonds.” She sets her mug in the sink and rinses it out, but leaves it sitting there. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Honey parrots.

“I’m going to throw on my good clothes and then I’m off,” Trixie says. She rounds the counter and presses a kiss to the side of Honey’s head, squishing her cheeks. “Don’t set my house on fire while I’m gone.”

“Are there any dolls lying around that we should know about?” Trevor jokes, thinking about the Bea story from yesterday.

Luckily, Trixie’s shoulders jump with a laugh. “Nah, those are in the safe. I had to lock them and the scissors away just in case. That’s funny, Trevor.” She flicks the back of his head as she walks away, which stings a bit, but Trevor figures it’s just as affectionate as the kiss she gave Honey.

Trevor waits for her to walk out of earshot, then turns to Honey. “She doesn’t actually still have dolls, though, right? Because that would be kind of creepy,” he admits.

Honey rolls her eyes and reaches over to pat Trevor’s hand. “No, I don’t think Trixie has any dolls in this place. She kind of outgrew that when she hit middle school, bud.”

Trevor deflates at the nickname.

“Don’t make that face,” Honey chides quietly. She tosses a look over her shoulder, towards where the rest of the guys are sleeping. “You know I can’t talk to you like that right now.”

“I know,” Trevor sighs. “What about at the store, though?”

Honey smiles into her coffee. “Yes, you can be all… you… at the grocery store.”

“Sick.” Trevor celebrates getting permission to act like a boyfriend with a fist pump. “Let me get dressed and we can go.”

Honey hums and finishes off her coffee. She takes Trevor’s mug, which he had no intentions of finishing anyway, and takes it with her to the guest bedroom.

Trixie sneaks out the front door with a wave to Trevor a few minutes later. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a nice blouse, which is pretty impressive. Trevor likes his walk-up suits, but he doesn’t really think he could wear them for an entire day of work. They’re too stuffy.

Honey follows not far behind. She’s in a pretty sundress and her birkenclogs and Trevor can see the strings of her bikini rise up and loop around the back of her neck. She takes the keys to the smaller car that Jack and Luke drove up from Wilmington last night and waves Trevor forward, shutting the door quietly behind them.

The drive to the grocery store is practically a straight line. They turn out of Trixie’s driveway onto the main road, then turn into the parking lot of another Food Lion, like the one in Litchton. It must be a North Carolina thing. Trevor had never seen a grocery store called “Food Lion” until he got here.

Honey grabs the cart from the collection area when they walk in the store, then allows Trevor to bump her out of the way and take the reigns. He’s on good behavior for a while, dutifully rolling the cart beside Honey and waiting patiently while she tries to decide between fusili or orecchiette noodles for a homemade mac’n’cheese that she wants to put together for Trixie. Apparently, macaroni noodles aren’t good enough because mac’n’cheese is Trixie’s favorite side dish and has been since she was a child.

The grocery store isn’t very full, given that it’s 7:30 in the morning on a Friday, and the barren hallways are too tempting. Trevor starts to drifts around corners, pop wheelies, and races down aisles far ahead of Honey. When he accidentally bumps into her in the chip aisle, she shoots him a glare that would melt ice, and sends him off to go find hamburger patties for Quinn to grill later tonight.

He takes the grocery cart with him. She might be able to discourage him from performing his NASCAR tricks while she’s around, but what Honey doesn’t see won’t hurt her. Trevor’s not going to let one accidental collision ruin his fun.

He coasts down to the ground beef, staring at his options. Would Quinn rather have pre-made patties, or would he like to form the patties himself? He is weird like that. Maybe smash burgers would be fun…

Trevor reaches for the meat that he thinks would work best, dropping it in the cart. As he walks toward the slices of cheese, a guy with a Giants hat accidentally cuts him off.

“Sorry, man,” the guy laughs, gesturing for Trevor to go ahead. He uses the carton of chocolate milk in his hand to wave Trevor forward.

“No, dude, don’t worry about it,” Trevor replies, letting the guy go ahead of him. “It’s all good. Can’t hold anything against a fellow Giants fan.”

“Oh, you’re a New York guy?” The guy reaches for a pack of string cheese, the ones that mix mozzarella and cheddar in a fun swirl. That’s not a bad idea. Trevor might pick up a pack of those for himself. “Excited for the big centennial next year?”

“It’s gonna be awesome,” Trevor says. “I hope we make the playoffs.”

“Hey, me too,” he tells Trevor with a chuckle. He looks at Trevor for a second, then blinks. “Wait, aren’t you–”

Trevor allows a smile to take over his face, hoping that it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. He forgot how awkward it is to be recognized in public, especially when you’re doing something as mundane as grocery shopping. “Yeah.” He extends his hand. “Trevor. It’s nice to meet you, dude.”

“Tommy,” the guy returns, grasping Trevor’s hand firmly. “What are you doing all the way out here, man? Don’t you play for Anaheim?”

“My girlfriend and our friends are spending the weekend at the beach during the off-season, actually. We just got in last night.” Trevor nods along with his own statement. He waves his hand at the contents of the cart. “She wakes up early, so I thought I’d tag along with the grocery shopping.”

“Good man,” Tommy praises. He holds up the cheese and chocolate milk. “I got sent out on my own. Pregnancy cravings from the wife.”

“Good man yourself,” Trevor laughs.

“Where’d you drive in from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tommy asks. “Long road trip from Cali?”

“Nah, I’m not built for that shit,” Trevor jokes. “Why do you think the league has jets now? No, my girlfriend lives near Winston-Salem. Tiny town. Litchton, actually, I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

“I have, actually. Been there once, too– I used to know someone who lives up there.” Tommy shifts his items into one hand and reaches for his phone. “Hey, would you mind if we get a picture?”

Trevor’s about to comply, but he sees Honey exit from the chip aisle with her arms full. He raises a hand to wave her over. “Hon,” Trevor calls. “Over here. Check it out, a Giants fan all the way down south. Tommy and I were just about to take a picture–”

“Is that what you go by now? Tommy?” Honey asks. Her eyes were sparkling when she first spotted Trevor, but now they’ve turned sullen and guarded and she’s stopped walking forward.

Trevor takes in her body language, how she’s tersely holding the chips in front of her body like a barrier. Her shoulders are pulled back and her jaw is set tightly. Trevor suddenly stands to his full height.

This must be Thomas.

He’s sandwiched between them, having turned to Honey when Trevor’s eyes slid over his shoulder and lit up at the sight of his girlfriend. Thomas is looking between them, although he mostly stares at the girl down the corridor to his right.

At least he has the decency to look like he’s seen a ghost.

“Oh my God, Honey,” Thomas grimaces.

“You’re Thomas,” Trevor says aloud, repeating his internal monologue. His voice is hard. “You’re that Thomas.”

“Ruined any lives lately?” Honey snaps, her eyes narrowed and fierce.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Thomas tries. “Really, I am. It was, well, you know how it was. We were kids and I was hopped up on all this shit, but I’m clean now and I found Jesus again and–”

“I ‘really’ don’t give a fuck,” Honey interrupts, mocking him. Her movements are becoming exaggerated, the way they do when she’s barely containing her rage.

“I’m going to have to turn you down for that picture,” Trevor says, jerking the cart back and starting to push it towards Honey. He pauses and looks Thomas dead in the eyes. “I know you have quite the reputation when it comes to photos.”

Trevor pushes past the man, feeling sick and seeing red. He was nice to this guy. He was having a good conversation with him. Fuck– they talked about his wife. He’s got a pregnant wife at home. That makes Trevor want to throw up.

Honey is still standing her ground and staring at her ex-boyfriend, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Trevor has to take her arm and pull her away.

Without speaking, they head straight for the cash register. Honey is stewing and grinding her teeth, so Trevor sends her out to the car. The teenage cashier was starting to send him panicked looks, evidently thinking that Honey’s glare was directed at her. When he steps outside, groceries in hand, Honey has parked the car right in front of the store. The flashers are on and Trevor appreciates not having to walk all the way to the vehicle, but he is a little apprehensive about Honey driving.

It’s a straight line. It can’t be that bad.

Trevor keeps an eye on her, though. He’s obvious about it. He faces her during the first half of the ride, counting the times Honey’s jaw clenches and unclenches, and plans to continue his count for the rest of the ride. He loses track as soon as Honey speaks.

“Stop looking at me,” Honey says.

Trevor won’t. He’s not sure what she’s thinking and he won’t stop searching her face until he knows. “No.”

“Okay, then stop looking at me like that,” Honey amends. “I can see you trying to figure me out. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just give me a minute to process it, dude–”

“Don’t call me dude,” Trevor interrupts with a frown. It’s like when she calls him ‘Z,’ or earlier, when she called him ‘bud.’ He’s not her friend. He’s her boyfriend. He deserves more than ‘dude,’ especially because he’s only looking at her like this because he cares and he’s worried.

“–and then I’ll tell you how I’m feeling,�� Honey finishes. She tosses a glance at Trevor, eyebrows pinched together. “Also, it’s a force of habit. I’m not calling you ‘dude’ to be a bitch. Stop acting like I am.”

Trevor doesn’t think he’s acting like that, but that’s an argument for another time. Tensions are high right now. He should’ve thought about that a second ago– again, with the ‘thinking before he speaks’ idea. Maybe Honey has a point.

She flicks the turn signal on and creeps into Trixie’s driveway. Honey throws the car into park and pulls the key from the ignition. She sits back in her seat borderline-agressively and huffs. Trevor would laugh at the way she crosses her arms over her chest if it weren’t for the situation at hand. She lets out a deep breath. “Five fucking years,” she curses. Her attention turns to Trevor. “I hate him. Even after five fucking years.”

Trevor nods. “I think he deserves that.”

Honey inhales, nodding and chewing on the inside of her cheek. She’s more angry than upset and Trevor can’t help but feel like that might be better than a freak-out. He also isn’t one to label things, but… her anger is a good sign, to him. Honey’s not drowning in the debris that Thomas left. She’s practically surfing on it, running on adrenaline and fury. That’ll fade eventually, but Trevor thinks that this might be a step forward rather than two steps back.

To be determined.

She takes a few more breaths, her face slowly becoming less tense with each exhale. After a minute, the wrinkle between her eyebrows has faded and her mouth is in a straight line rather than a frown.

Trevor reaches out and cups Honey’s face. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just musters up a sympathetic smile.

Honey holds eye contact, then her lips quirk up and her lashes flutter in a little eye roll. “I need to talk to Bea,” she says. She leans into his touch. “She was there. No offense, but she’ll get it more than you do.”

Trevor breathes out a laugh. “I think you’re right.”

Honey leans over the center console and kisses Trevor’s lips in a fleeting, yet sweet, pass. “Can you take the boys to the beach so they don’t hear? I think we might scream and yell a bit.”

“Anything you want,” Trevor agrees. He pauses. “But… you’ll talk to me after, right?”

Honey kisses him again, gently. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you after. I just… I want to get my mind wrapped around this first. I might have to sleep on it.” She looks at that clock, then jokes, “Even though it’s not even nine in the morning yet.”

“Maybe you’ll take a midday nap,” Trevor replies with a wink.

Honey snorts. “Be patient, Trev.”

Trevor draws back and releases his hold on Honey’s cheek. He changes the subject. “You go on up. I’ll put the groceries away, then I’ll round up the boys.”

Honey thanks him, then exits the car. She leaves the keys with him and heads up the stairs, disappearing from Trevor’s sight.

He’ll do as he promised, taking the groceries up for Honey and leaving the house with the boys within thirty minutes of their arrival. They had to pack a cooler, to be fair, and that always takes a little time.

By the time Honey and Bea make it down to the beach around midday, the boys are ravenous. Honey and Bea come bearing sandwiches and they eat in a circle, sitting on their towels, like it’s a picnic.

After lunch, Cole digs a hole. Bea and Quinn head into the water, bobbing in the waves. At the same time, Honey buries Jack in the sand with help from Luke, giving him a mermaid tail and a seashell bra. Trevor sits on his towel and watches the group, feigning nonchalance, but he’s really watching Honey.

Thomas doesn’t seem to plague her mind, but Trevor doesn’t really know. She’s giggling with the group and yelling at Cole to stop throwing sand near them, which Trevor takes as a good sign.

He guesses he’ll find out what she really thinks tomorrow. He can wait that long.

76:90 – HONEY

Honey had told herself that the two cocktails at dinner would be her last drinks of the night. The boys have a kind of routine on their beach days– they pack as many drinks as the cooler can fit and they crush them. Honey, Bea, and Trixie had done their best to keep up, and it had resulted in quite a buzz.

There had been time to come down, too– Honey left the beach around 3:30 because she’d gotten sleepy. She’d showered and taken a nap, then woken up before dinner to see Bea napping in bed next to her. The guys had been in the same state when she went into the living room. Luke was the only one awake and he was watching golf on low volume, his eyes glazed over. Honey thinks he might be so zoned out that he’s dead to the world.

After dinner, though, everyone had been reinvigorated. The boys had cracked open new beers and Trixie had produced a box of seltzers from her minifridge in the garage. She and Bea are party girls, as is Cece, so it must be a McLean thing. They’d been adamant that the group played a few drinking games before winding down for the night.

They’d played Flip Cup first– dividing into two teams of four and pounding drinks up and down the length of Trixie’s dining table. Bea and Trixie had captained the teams and drafted their picks because the boys thought it was most fair. Bea’s first pick was, unsurprisingly, Quinn. Trixie had picked Jack. At first, Honey had thought it was because of his frat-boy energy.

The more drunk everyone got, the more Honey noticed that Jack and Trixie were flirting. By the time they moved onto Stack Cup, Jack and Trixie were standing next to each other and Trixie was shrieking each time Jack nearly lapped her. When he finally did and she’d had to chug the Bitch Cup, Trixie had pulled Bea’s signature pout.

Honey was not surprised when they disappeared into Trixie’s bedroom, presumably, less than an hour later. Neither was anyone else, apparently. Cole had snorted and said that Bea and Jack were two peas in a pod, since they both collected siblings like it was nothing. Everyone laughed at that, then they’d split into smaller groups. Cole and Trevor started playing Ride The Bus with a stack of cards they found in Trixie’s junk drawer, Quinn and Luke had settled on the couch to watch TV, and Honey and Bea took a girl’s trip to the bathroom.

Bea finds a fresh thing of moisturizer while she’s digging through Trixie’s bathroom cabinet and goes to smell it, catching a strong whiff of eucalyptus. She gags, stomach lurching… and pushes Honey out of the way while she’s pulling up her sweatpants so that she can vomit into the toilet.

Typical.

Honey braids Bea’s hair back messily while she yacks, then helps pat her face with a cold towel when she’s done. They decide to go to bed, even though Bea says that she’s fine. Honey thinks she needs to rest after throwing up the many, many drinks she had today, so she and Bea throw on their pajamas– a fun matching nightgown set that they always bring on their trips outside of Litchton– and cuddle up in bed. Honey is glad she made Bea brush her teeth before they left the bathroom, even if their faces aren’t close enough for her to smell Bea’s breath.

“You didn’t talk to Trevor,” Bea mumbles. She’s got her arm thrown over her face, eyes buried in the crook of her elbow. “You said you would today.”

Honey gets a flashback to the previous morning– how Bea had been aghast and furious that Thomas was in the same town as them, how she’d been elated that Honey had called Thomas out and been mean to him at the store, and how she’d pretended like it took all of her energy to praise Trevor for reacting the way he did. Honey knows that Bea likes Trevor deep down, even if she treats him like an annoying brother.

Honey groans, shifting under the covers. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You have to talk to him,” Bea replies. Her voice is monotone and tired. “You promised you would. You know how he gets when he’s worried.”

She’s right, unfortunately. It takes a lot out of Honey to sit up, especially with the last of the booze that is coursing through her veins. She feels a bit like an old man, grunting through a stretch, but she finally swings her legs over the side of the bed and begins to make her way to the door.

It bangs open before she reaches for the handle.

“Bea!” Jack exclaims, shouldering into the bedroom in nothing but his sweatpants and underwear– Honey can see the Nike lettering peeking out from under the gray waistband slung low on his hips. “New PR!”

Bea’s arm falls from her face and she squints at Jack with one eye. “What?” she asks groggily.

“I beat my time!” Jack catches Honey’s wrist as she passes him and raises her hand to give himself a high-five.

Honey fails to hold back a laugh, producing a stifled snort. Just as Jack jumps onto the bed and crosses his legs, getting comfortable, Honey slips away.

She walks as quietly as she can past Trixie’s room, finding her way to the end of the hallway and slipping through the glass door to the balcony. It’s there that she finds Trixie in her bathrobe, looking up at the stars and twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

“Hey,” Honey greets quietly. “I heard Jack broke his record.”

Trixie chuckles. “Yeah, he told me. I think it’s cute how excited he was.”

“How long was it?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know, twenty minutes, maybe? From the time we got naked to the time it was over?” Trixie shrugs. “It wasn’t bad. He’s definitely good looking enough to get away with that.”

“One night stand?”

Trixie nods. “Definitely, one night stand. I’m not looking to do anything more than hook up with a guy who’s five years younger than me.” She drops her hand and slaps her knees. “Do you need the balcony?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to Trevor about something,” Honey says. “Do you remember Thomas?”

Trixie makes a face. There’s Honey’s confirmation that Cece and Bea did have a tell-all with Trix when Honey and Thomas broke up. “Yeah, I remember that dipshit. He should’ve gone to jail for what he did to you.”

“We saw him at the store yesterday,” Honey tells her. “Me and Trev.”

“Shit.” Trixie’s eyes are wide. “Are you okay?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Honey replies with a bit of a laugh. “I was mad when I saw him. Even after we left, I wasn’t upset. It was just like, ‘Oh, here’s the bitch that changed my life. I hope I never see him again after this’ and then I was fine.” She shrugs. “Bea and I talked about it. I’m not happy with what he did, obviously, but I’m past it.”

Trixie smiles and stands, bringing Honey in for a hug. “I’m happy for you.” She squeezes Honey tight, then lets her go, palms on Honey’s elbows. “You are such an impressive and resilient person.”

Honey doesn’t know quite what to say to Trixie. She thinks that if she opens her mouth to talk, her voice will break. That was so nice.

Trixie pats Honey’s arm one last time and heads toward the sliding glass door. “Goodnight, Hon. Have a good talk with Trevor.”

“Do you like him?” Honey blurts out as Trixie steps through the door. “For me?”

Trixie turns back and nods. “I do.” She slides the door shut and disappears down the hallway.

Honey smiles to herself, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. She shakes it away, pulling her phone out and texting Trevor to meet her on the balcony. She hopes he’s awake.

He sends her a “!!!!” within seconds and Honey hears his feet padding down the hallway a minute later.

“Hey,” Trevor whispers as he closes the door behind him. He crosses the balcony and wraps his arms around Honey’s waist. He buries his face in Honey’s neck and kisses her, biting lightly over her pulse point. “I hated not being able to touch you all day. Y’looked so good in your pretty bikini, baby.”

Honey sighs and relaxes into Trevor’s touch, breathing in the traces of his cologne. It’s mostly worn off by now, but if she closes her eyes, she can still take it in. Honey wraps her arms around Trevor’s neck and holds him close.

Trevor is the first to pull away. “You okay?” he asks. “You seem… pretty okay, all things considered.”

“I am, actually,” Honey murmurs, bringing her hand to Trevor’s hair and stroking the strands along his temple. She can feel Trevor’s gaze on her face, never straying. “I think I’m really moving on. Not just fake-moving on like I’ve been doing for the past couple years.”

A smile creeps over Trevor’s face. “That’s awesome, babe.”

“I think you’ve been helping,” Honey admits quietly. “More than I wanted you to in the first place.”

“Yeah, baby, you hated me,” Trevor teases. He nudges Honey’s nose with his, then kisses her. “You didn’t think I’d be any good to you this summer.”

“That’s not true,” Honey fights back, frowning. “I thought it would be nice to have people to hang out with.”

“Hmm, I bet you meant the other guys,” Trevor continues in the same tone. He brings his hands to Honey’s hips and walks her back as he kisses her, only stopping when he’s got her pressed up against the wall. He starts to kiss down her neck, bringing his hands to her bare thighs and pushing at the hem of her nightgown.

“I gave you one week before you went back home,” Honey says. She raises a leg and tries to wrap it over Trevor’s hip. She slips at first, but then Trevor grips the fat of her thigh and holds her leg in place.

“Well, I’m still here,” Trevor replies. His right hand slips between Honey’s legs and traces her folds before shifting her underwear to the side and diving in. “And you know I’m not leaving.”

“But you are, though,” Honey chokes out. She’s reeling from the way he just shoved two of his fingers into her cunt.

Trevor hums. “Okay, physically,” he says. “But I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I fail to see how that’s a good thing,” Honey jokes, but she’s lost the fighting edge in her voice. It’s so obvious that Trevor is affecting her, considering the way her breath has grown weary and how she’s biting her lower lip.

Trevor laughs anyway. “I can show you,” he says.

He kisses Honey, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes drift all the way shut and she fists the neckline of his t-shirt. He tastes like the drinks that he’s been consuming all day, but with an overt layer of minty toothpaste. His lips are soft and Honey likes how he smiles between kisses.

“Is that a good enough reason?” Trevor asks softly, trailing his lips down to Honey’s jaw and sucking softly. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but she can feel his tongue massaging her skin and his teeth scraping over the area when he’s done.

“No, I already knew you were good at that,” Honey says. She feels a little stuck in her head, waiting for Trevor to do more.

His thumb presses against her clit and starts to circle. “I guess I have to up my game.” Trevor fits his teeth around Honey’s collarbone and nibbles. “You want me to talk about how pretty you are, baby?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Honey cards her fingers through Trevor’s hair and sighs.

He snuffles out another laugh. “You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Trevor tells Honey.

“Thing?”

Trevor actually chuckles. “Not thing. You know that’s just a saying.” He adopts a southern accent. “Prettiest ‘thang’ I’ve ever seen.”

“You are so goofy.”

Trevor twists his fingers inside of Honey and makes her choke on a breath. “Don’t be mean, Hon. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” Honey bites.

“Attention seeker.”

“Now you’re being mean.”

“If I was mean, I’d stop fingering you and head back inside.”

Honey rolls her eyes. She grinds down on Trevor’s fingers and pulls him up for another kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Trevor continues, jumping back into the bit. He noses against Honey’s cheek. “Honestly, Honey, you steal my breath. It’s unreal. I think about how pretty you are all the time.”

“Jerking off?” Honey gasps out. Her stomach is starting to turn from the pleasure.

“Mm.” Trevor smiles against her neck. “Sometimes. You turn me on, baby, but your looks aren’t the only thing I like about you. I’m determined to stay around for other reasons, you know.”

Honey hums, prompting him to continue. She is a bit of a glutton for praise– but who isn’t? She likes when people like her. She likes when Trevor likes her.

“Like how loyal you are to your friends,” Trevor says. “I couldn’t handle Bea for as long as you have, but you know that.”

“You handle Jack,” Honey points out. “That’s the same.”

“Fair point,” Trevor surmises. “I’m so… taken with how you act, babe.”

“Trevor,” Honey warns. She’s getting closer to the edge. His fingers are dancing inside of her, unrelenting, and his words aren’t helping. She still wants him to talk more, though.

“Do you know how proud I am that you stood your ground with Thomas at the store?” Trevor murmurs, moving his hand from Honey’s thigh to thumb over her nipple.

“Oh my God,” Honey moans out when he pokes the spongy spot inside of her. She jumps, then whimpers, pulling his face back up so that she can bit his neck.

“It was amazing,” Trevor praises. “You’re so brave. I love how fiery you were when you saw him and how well you’ve bounced back from it over the past day and a half.”

Honey’s hips jerk into his touch. Her mouth drops open and eyes roll back. She knocks her head against the wall, but the sting doesn’t actually hurt. She barely feels it. Honey snaps, her resolve crumbling as Trevor’s fingers thrust into her at what feels like lightning speed. Her hands clutch at Trevor’s bicep and the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his skin and leaving red crescent-moons behind. “I love you,” Honey whines. She’s praising Trevor and his unique ability to give her everything she’s craved in a partner, especially since Thomas destroyed her confidence the way he did.

Trevor’s hips roll against Honey’s hip like they’re controlled by an external force. His fingers continue to fill her just right. He draws his lip into his mouth and his stunning, shining eyes lock in on her expression. “I love you,” he repeats, natural and easy like nothing else.

Flickers of recognition pass through his pupils. “Oh, fuck, I love you,” he repeats again, conscious and strangled and desperate and true.

Honey melts into his gasp, her chest heaving with a sob as her climax rearranges the atoms in her eyesight. Honey’s admission, which is slowly dawning on her, has taken all the tension from her body and sent it out into the universe like a flood.

Trevor’s trying to kiss her again.

Honey gulps and wiggles away from him.

Trevor doesn’t seem to notice how she’s inching towards the sliding door. His hands slip off of her hips for one second and Honey is gone.

That was not supposed to happen. The whole “I love you” thing was supposed to be a nonissue. That’s what she told herself when she thought it– and now that she’s said it… Honey’s head cannot stop racing with thoughts.

You know what? Maybe Trevor didn’t hear her.

Okay, that’s stupid. He replied. Twice.

Maybe he didn’t realize it either.

No, that’s why he repeated it.

This is terrible. This should’ve happened a year from now over some stupid, sentimental, and dry candlelit dinner that Trevor tried to cook in his California apartment. This should’ve happened while Honey was trying to stomach the food without being mean and make sure that the candles didn’t light the flowers on fire, and she would’ve distracted him by telling him that she loves him.

Honey hasn’t thought about this at all. It– ugh– it was a dream she had a few nights ago. It should be noted that she woke with a start, sitting up, and nearly had a heart attack when Trevor’s arm had tightened around her waist to keep her in place.

She bursts through her bedroom door, interrupting Jack and Bea’s conversation. Honey slams the door shut behind her and plasters herself to the cool wood. She can hold the door shut if Trevor tries to barge in.

Bea blinks at Honey. “You okay?”

“I told him I love him,” Honey announces. She fumbles for the doorhandle and turns the lock.

“I thought you were going to talk to him about Thomas,” Bea says incredulously.

“Yeah, I was, but then we started…” Honey tilts her head and makes a high-pitched humming noise in the back of her throat as an insinuation, then opens her mouth again. “And it just slipped out.”

“During?” Bea demands. “During?”

“Yes, during!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack cuts in, sitting forward on the bed. “I’m lost. Who are we talking about?”

“Trevor!” Honey and Bea exclaim at the same time, both rounding on Jack in identical fashion.

He flinches back and holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, sorry, I didn’t know.” It takes a moment, but their shared word registers. “Wait, I’m sorry, you’re in love with Trevor?”

“What are you going to do?” Bea asks, waving a hand at Jack to silence him.

“Hide out in here for the rest of the weekend, probably,” Honey answers. She might’ve reached a pitch that only dogs can hear, but Bea and Jack seem to be faring well enough.

“Okay, not to interrupt again, but you know Trevor’s been fucking random girls all summer, right?” Jack continues.

“Oh my God, no, he hasn’t,” Honey says. The jig is up now and she doesn’t have time for Jack’s well-meaning warnings and confused comments. She has bigger problems.

“Yes, he has,” Jack insists. “He’s on Raya, dude. We’ve been talking about it for weeks. He’s very open about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bea scoffs. She faces Jack and puts her hand on his shoulder, looking deep into his eyes. “Jack, I love you dearly–”

Honey groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Sorry, Hon, I didn’t mean to trigger you.” Bea raises half of a hand-heart for Honey. “But, J, Trevor and Honey have been fucking for months. The Raya hookups were a cover.”

“What?” Jack looks at Honey, mouth open in surprise. He turns back to Bea. “And you knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course I didn’t tell you, no one knows!”

“What about Quinn?” Jack asks.

Bea relents. “Okay, Quinn knows. But Luke and Cole don’t know, so you have to shut up about it.”

Jack’s face turns from offended to slack and pale. “Oh, I’m not good at keeping secrets,” he says. Honey knows that– he’s said it before.

“I’ll give you two hundred dollars to keep your mouth shut,” Bea bargains.

Jack purses his lips. “Well, now, that’s an interesting point,” he muses.

“Hey, hi,” Honey urges, waving her hand at the duo on the bed. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

“Honey, I wouldn’t, like, call it a problem, necessarily?” Bea says, but she’s stammering a little when she says it.

Honey scoffs and widens her eyes, feeling like she’s going crazy. “You haven’t said it back to Quinn!”

“You haven’t said it back to Quinn?” Jack demands. He covers his face with his hands. “Oh my God, I should’ve just gone to bed after hooking up with Trixie. This is so much drama.”

“It’s not drama!” Bea exclaims. “Did Trevor say it back?”

“Yes!” Honey reveals, shrugging. She raises a hand and gestures into the air. “So what?”

“So what?” Bea repeats. “You have nothing to worry about. He said he loves you, you said you love him.”

“Other way around,” Honey corrects.

Bea stares at Honey for a beat, then starts to laugh. “Semantics! Dude, who cares? You’re in love! I bet he’s on the other side of the door, waiting for you to let him in so he can say it again.”

“I am, actually,” comes Trevor’s muffled voice. Honey feels one of his fingers poke her heel from the crack under the door. “Can you let me in?”

Honey resists the urge to stomp on his finger. She groans, tilting her head back and crumpling her face. She doesn’t want to face Trevor right now, for two reasons. One: she’s not over saying “I love you.” and two, it’s embarrassing. She ran away from him. She whines, slightly annoyed with herself, as she turns to the door and unlocks it. She turns the handle and Trevor crashes into the room in a similar manner as Honey did.

He kicks the door shut and brings his palms to Honey’s jaw, cradling her face in his hands. He kisses her hard. He stays there, then pulls away.

“Jack’s here,” Honey says.

“Hi, Z,” Jack supplies.

“I don’t care,” Trevor tells Honey. He lays kiss after kiss against her lips. He speaks between pecks. “I love you.” Peck. “Don’t run away.” Peck. “You said what I was getting ready to say, baby.” Peck. “I’m so glad you feel the same. I love you.”

Honey hums against his lips. “I love you, too,” she mumbles quietly. “I just–”

“Let me enjoy this for a second,” Trevor says, stopping her short. “Fuck, you make me happy.”

Honey relaxes with a little whimper, feeling a little wounded by how lovely he is. He’s so nice to her, even as wishy-washy as she’s been. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, even if he’s physically leaving at the end of the summer, and Honey is the one who’s constantly changing things up on Trevor. Ugh, how annoying.

Jack hoots from the bed, interrupting their moment. Bea, at least, had the decency to stay silent with a big grin on her face.

Trevor pulls away from Honey and glares at Jack. “Dude, get out.”

“You should be thanking me, bro,” Jack says as he stands from the bed. “I’m the one who told Honey that you like her in the first place.”

“Not to be like that, either,” Bea jumps in. “But this is technically my bedroom, and I’m a little sleepy, so I think you guys might have to wrap it up. You can consummate your love when we get back to Litchton, if that’s okay with you.”

“Well, it’s not okay with me.” Trevor rolls his eyes. His hands are still on Honey, but resting on her waist instead of cupping her cheeks. “This is kind of a big deal for us.”

“And I so get that, Trev,” Bea continues, inflecting her voice like Alexis from Schitt’s Creek. “But, also, I’m not leaving so you can have sex in the bed that I’m sleeping in after you’re done. That’s like, not…”

Honey dips her forehead and laughs. She pats Trevor’s chest and pushes him back towards the door. “It’s okay, Trev. It’s late.”

Trevor holds onto her hand and brings it to his lips, pouting. Jack catches Trevor’s shirt and tugs him towards the door.

Honey can barely contain a coy smile. “I love you,” she mouths as Jack drags him away. She brings a hand to her mouth and blows a kiss in his direction.

Trevor smiles as wide as Honey has ever seen and allows himself to be pulled from the room, barely catching the handle and closing the door behind him.

Bea jumps from the bed onto Honey’s back and screeches in her ear. She hugs Honey in a partial headlock, arms locked on Honey until she can’t breathe.

“Okay, get off of me,” Honey chokes out, slamming Bea into the mattress.

“This is so exciting,” Bea squeals. She hits Honey’s shoulder with each word. “Honey! This is so wonderful!”

“Can we just go to bed?” Honey asks, feeling her skin crawl a bit. Yes, everything is fine on paper, but another shoe has got to be on the precipice of dropping.

“Yes, but I’m cuddling you all night to celebrate,” Bea agrees. She grabs Honey’s shoulders and shakes her until Honey feels like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “Honey!”

“Shut up,” Honey groans. She buries herself under the covers, pulling the sheets over her head and disappearing into a lump.

“Are you so excited at least?” Bea aks, wrapping her arms around Honey’s middle and pressing her cheek into Honey’s back.

Honey smiles into the pillow. “It’s exciting,” she admits.

Bea squeals again and squeezes Honey’s waist like a belt that’s too tight.

“Alright, that’s enough, stop it with the Heimlich,” Honey scolds, pinching Bea’s forearm. Her grip slackens after a moment. “You already threw up tonight, I don’t want to either.”

“Do you think you’re going to?”

Honey’s not sure. It is a little nauseating to have said what she said to Trevor, even if he received it well. She said it back again and she wants to keep saying it back, but it’s still weird. She’ll either throw up from being excited or from being so surprised that she told Trevor how she feels.

She buries her face in the pillow and screams.

77:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has been riding on a high since last night. He’d been hesitant to tell Honey how he felt, how he loved her, but after running into Thomas and seeing how she’d handled that so well, Trevor had thought that there was no better time than the present.

He’d been trying to build up to it. He was praising the girl and trying to fill her head with a bunch of pretty– and genuine– compliments so that she didn’t freak out when he uttered those three words.

She’d said it first. Honey had beat him to the punch by about one second, which surprised Trevor. Her statement hadn’t really computed in his brain until after he’d said his piece, which is when he’d felt so surprised that all he could do was repeat himself.

It wasn’t surprising that Honey bolted after the fact. She’d been in an abject state of denial after calling Trevor her boyfriend by mistake the week prior, so it made sense that she was surprised and confused and frustrated with herself when she’d accidentally said “I love you.” Trevor knows Honey well enough to assume that she hadn’t meant to tell him that. He’d bet money on it.

It feels like a quick turnaround on paper, Trevor thinks. He’s never actually said “I love you” to anyone other than his family members and his closest friends, so he doesn’t know what the “right” time is. He’s known Honey for two and a half months now, but like she always says, mountain time passes differently. It feels more like he’s known her for five or six months. Quite frankly, Trevor has had feelings for Honey since he saw her outside of the grocery store on his first day in Litchton. He’s liked her since then and he can’t really pinpoint the moment that his admiration for Honey evolved into love, but it happened, and now they’re here.

They’re one step closer to telling everyone, too. Jack knows, which isn’t ideal since everyone knows that the boy can’t keep a secret, but Trevor’s okay with that. Sure, he threatened Jack and made sure he wasn’t going to tell Cole or Luke, but he only did that to protect what Honey wants. She might be in love with Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready for everyone to know.

Which is why Trevor is managing to contain himself during their last trip to the beach this morning. Bea is skipping church because she’s on vacation, so everyone is together under the ocean sun for the last time this summer.

Honey looks practically edible in her red swimsuit. She reminds him of the classic Baywatch, the original series that Trevor would sometimes catch replays of when he was young. Yasmine Bleeth might’ve been Trevor’s first awakening, the one who made him realize that girls are pretty. Honey is yet another reminder and Trevor is having trouble keeping his eyes away from her.

She’s standing at the edge of the water with Cole. Occasionally, one of them will pick up a rock or a shell and skip it against the waves. One of Cole’s shells hits Luke, who is bobbing in the waves and tossing a football with Jack. Honey laughs with her whole body, bending at the waist.

“Eyes off, Trevor,” Bea murmurs, reaching out to slap at Trevor’s arm.

She’s lying next to him on her towel, back bared to the sky. The tie behind her back is undone to prevent an uneven tan, but Trevor thinks she has bigger problems to worry about. Quinn’s head is resting on the small of her back and his arm is wrapped around her body, palm flat on her hip. Talk about an uneven tan, Trevor thinks.

“Why?” he questions. “It’s not like anyone up here doesn’t know about it.”

Bea groans. “Because you’re being obvious. I know that you’re in love, or whatever, but Luke and Cole don’t know anything.”

“She looks hot,” Trevor argues. “Maybe I’m just ogling her because she’s sexy. Cole and Luke can’t argue with that.”

“Do you really want Cole and Luke to ask you why you’re looking at Honey like that?” Bea points out. “You’ll have to tell them she’s hot and then they’ll look at Honey like she’s hot.”

“And they’d be right to think that,” Trixie adds in a disinterested voice. She’s preoccupied with the stack of papers in one hand and the legal pad balanced on her knee. She waves her hair out of her face and looks at Trevor, tilting her head down to that she can meet his eyes above the rims of her sunglasses. “You’re lucky that she decided to date you.”

“I know,” Trevor replies, feeling like he has to defend himself against the sisters. He doesn’t take advantage of being Honey’s boyfriend, nor does he take her for granted. He knows that their relationship is still pretty fragile and new, even if they love each other.

Bea hums, squinting at him. She seems to decide to take his word for it, because she changes the subject. “I gave Jack $200 to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible,” Quinn mumbles. He picks his head up and turns to face the back of Bea’s head. “You don’t have to pay Jack to keep their secret.”

Bea shrugs. “I don’t mind. I’d rather pay him to stay silent than just have blind faith in him.”

Quinn snorts and kisses down Bea’s spine. “I think the world is lucky that you’re not in a position of power,” he comments. “If you’re so willing to resort to bribery.”

“What has Ada been teaching you at that store, Bea?” Trixie jumps in. “I hope you’re not bribing customers or your suppliers. I’d get so fired for bribing people.”

“We’re not allowed to bribe people either,” Quinn adds. “Although I bet Z would if he could. Anaheim sucks.”

“I would not,” Trevor refutes. He’s still fighting with the group and defending himself. They start laughing like it’s all some big joke, but his feathers are still ruffled. Trevor huffs and turns away from them, looking back at Honey and Cole.

Cole has Honey thrown over his shoulder and he’s marching into the waves. She’s shrieking and Cole stumbles over the sandbar and sends them both tumbling into the waves. Honey surfaces with a sputter and pushes Cole into a wave, jumping onto him and holding him underwater. Luke and Jack get involved not long after.

The rest of the day passes far faster than Trevor would like. They eat cold cut sandwiches as a group for lunch. Jack gets far too sunburnt, despite Honey and Bea’s better efforts to convince him to wear sunscreen. He claimed he didn’t need it since he tans well, but his pink skin is proof that he doesn’t tan as well as he thinks he does.

In the afternoon, Trixie runs up to the house and gets a volleyball. They play beach volleyball without a net, instead drawing a line in the sand that marks the barriers of the game. They don’t keep track of who’s winning or who’s on what team. The game isn’t serious and there’s a boatload of cheating– Bea pushes Luke over while his head it turned towards the sky, despite being on the same team, and they all laugh about it. Jack puts Honey on his shoulders so she can block a hit from Trixie. The ball ends up hitting her straight in the chest and knocks the wind out of her. When they finally head up to the house in the early evening, Honey’s still got an imprint of the ball on her skin. She calls it her battle scar and compares it to the mark on Quinn’s cheek. Quinn tells Honey that hers will fade.

For dinner, they eat the burgers that Trevor had bought when they ran into Thomas. Trixie whips up a salad to go with the meal and they all eat at her dining room table.

After dinner, they pack and divide into cars. Honey, Bea, and Quinn take Quinn’s rental car back. Trevor, Jack, Luke, and Cole are relegated to the other car. They speed home, losing Quinn’s car within the second hour, once they pass Raleigh. Cole falls asleep halfway through the drive and doesn’t wake up until they get back to Litchton.

One of Honey’s favorite songs starts to play from Trevor’s liked songs as they turn onto the main road. He closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest. Jack has the windows rolled down and the air smells clearer up here.

Trevor can’t imagine driving down this mountain in two weeks, knowing that he won’t be back until next year.

20 notes · View notes

wishcamper · 1 day ago

Text

happy @sjmromanceweek!

here is my entry for day three: First "I Love You

Under the Egg Moon

A modern Nessian AU ft archaeologist!Nesta and boat captain!Cassian

Read here or on ao3!

CW: explicit consensual sexual content

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wishcamper lore: when i was a college student (re: lost as fuck, re: no long-term thinking) through a series of random events i ended up on an archaeological dig in Cyprus. much of this fic is inspired by that summer, including a lot of the details of dig life, schedules, antagonistic animals, and how it ping-pongs from utterly boring to genuinely life-changing. and while i was unfortunately too consumed with my shitty boyfriend to hook up with the hot boat captain, fiction has the power to right all wrongs. and now: her.

(See the end of the work for more notes!)

Nesta sends a curse to whatever god made the sun so fucking hot.

She hopes it isn’t the one the ancient peoples of this island once worshiped, because she really needs this dig to be productive. But six weeks in the Cesere summer and all they have to show for it are a few shards of pottery, a blank amulet, and a fuckton of dirt. Not enough to write anything publishable, and nowhere close to what she needs to get funded for another year.

Nesta makes another pass over her three-by-three section, pickax chipping away one centimeter-thick layer of red earth at a time.

The trappings of a productive site are all here—isolated island off the mainland, no way to reach it except by boat. The ruins even abut a protected wildlife area, some ancestral seagull nesting ground, though the birds haven’t gotten the memo about leaving their side of the island alone. Every surreptitious trip into the high grass to use the bathroom becomes a WWII style air raid, feathery Luftwaffe dive-bombing from above.

She sends a curse to them, too.

“Let’s break here,” Nesta pants, and Gwyn nods from where she squints over her theodolite. At least they’ll have a CG map of the building’s visible walls by the end of the summer, if nothing else.

“I can’t tell if my eyes are wobbling or there’s an impeding earthquake.” Gwyn swipes a freckled arm across her forehead.

“It would get us out of explaining this fucking fiasco.”

A sharp pull on the whistle around her neck and a relieved groan echoes across from every corner of the excavation pit. Sweat-soaked students pour the last of their water bottles over their heads before they begin to pack all their equipment into thick black tubs. Nesta makes her way over to their makeshift staging area under a tarp to survey the artifacts from the day: more random shards of pottery, and a rock vaguely shaped like a triangle.

“I thought it looked like an arrowhead,” a sandy-haired boy offers as he hovers behind her. She should really get better with names.

“It’s a rock,” Nesta assures him. “And no one used stone arrows in the era we’re studying, anyway.”

Whatshisname deflates. Then works himself back up again, clearly having practiced whatever speech comes next.

“Dr. Archeron, do you think we could have the day off tomorrow?” he asks.

Nesta feels the expression fall over her face—the one that sends students shuffling from her office mumbling apologies after she makes her stance on grade-grubbing very clear.

“No.”

“It’s just that there’s this concert in Greater Cesere tonight, and we've already figured out the carpool—”

“I don’t care how hungover you are. You’re expected at the dock at 5:45, just like every morning.”

“Yeah. Of course.” His eyes go shifty. “We’ll all be there.”

This is the part of the dig when the less-dedicated get squirrely, when they get tired of instant coffee and dirt in their teeth and lizards in their beds. Nesta knows it’s normal, but she feels the heat rise in her throat, their mission on the edge of a chasm of underfunded failure. It would feel good to tear into him, but there are course evals to think of, after all.

“Go help Dr. Berdara with the surveying equipment,” she grouses instead.

“Yes, Dr. Archeron.”

Whatshisname scurries off. Nesta can’t help but smirking to herself, knowing she’s just given him enough fodder to become the prince of whatever night out they’re about to have, enough sympathy to get laid, even.

As a woman among arrogant Indiana Jones cosplayers, the scary reputation is a necessary evil. As is the horrid plod down the side of the island where their boat awaits, laden with trowels and tarps and empty jugs of water.

The Ceserean Historical Bureau earns the curse for that one.

Everything in, everything out, every day.

What a fucking mess.

But nothing this summer compares to the utter disaster that waves from the bow of the modest motorboat. Every six-foot-four, tanned, tattooed bit of him.

“Find any treasure today?” Cassian asks, as always. Nesta ignores the hand he offers to help her onboard, brushing past to take her usual seat in the back.

She made the mistake the first morning of sitting on the bow of The Windhaven, wanting to be visible among her students, a guidepost. But it put her directly in the line of burning hazel eyes, ones that danced with all of the terrible things Nesta would let him do to her if she gave less of a shit.

She needs to ask Emerie about curse tablets after the next department meeting.

“There’s a legend about this island, you know.” Cassian hops up onto the side of the boat and braces against the center console, students streaming to and fro. “That it used to be the nest of a great bird. One day an egg appeared, only it never hatched. A wave came and swept it into the sky, where it became the moon.”

“Charming. Wish the birds up there now had a bit more reverence.”

“Are you using the trick I taught you?”

She boarded one afternoon with a nick on her ear from not dodging quickly enough. Cassian advised her to hold a metal dustpan over her head. Nesta felt like an idiot the first time, but even she had to admit that it worked.

What didn’t work was how flustered she got when he insisted on cleaning her cut, weathered hands so gentle when they brushed her skin.

“I see.” That idiotic smirk made her cheeks heat. “You are, but you’re mad about it.”

And as the boat bumps through the surf back to shore, Nesta tries to convince herself of anything but that.

After their first week on the dig, she and Gwyn shared a very drunken and giggly night when Nesta confessed her attraction to their roguish captain. It’s been a while since she’s really had her world rocked, and the breakneck pace of the semester left opportunities for dating thin on the ground. Gwyn decided he would manhandle her like the flowing-haired men on the covers of grocery store harlequin romances. They’d laughed and laughed as the bottle of brandy drained, quoting their favorite lines from the days they’d get stoned with Emerie and do dramatic readings to stave off grad school delirium.

His growls of pleasure filled the tent, drowning out the screams of the wounded and dying.

“But Cassian would definitely put those big-ass hands to good use,” Gwyn affirmed. “Respectfully. Like pulling up an anchor.”

What a horrible mistake. Now it’s all Nesta can think about as the big-ass hand in question closes around her upper arm once they disembark, once the students are busy grumbling in the apothiki.

“Go out with me tonight.”

Cassian is smiling crookedly, as if ready to protect his face with a dustpan if this doesn’t go well.

“No,” Nesta answers without thinking. It’s not worth the trouble, especially with her own crew on the verge of mutiny. It's not the first time he's asked, and it won't be the last. Cassian’s smile widens, undeterred.

“Stay in with me, then.”

A huff escapes her, and he’s still holding her arm, somehow hotter than the sun that's driving rivulets of sweat down her back.

“Your students will all be gone, I heard them talking about that show in Greater Cesere.”

Nesta swallows.

“No one has to know.” He’s inches from her now, so tall he casts a shadow over her face. “You should see the things we do in my dreams.”

Fantasies flash through her mind, that strong body pressing her back against a door. Cassian’s full lips on her neck, hands roaming lower.

Wanting, wanting so thick and sharp it almost hurts spears its way through her. The desires Nesta pushes away come roaring back, an angry sea kept at bay by the levees she’s built around her heart. The hard outer shell, the layers of dirt under which she’s buried the very idea of wanting.

It’s an escape for her, rifling through the lives of people long-dead. There are parts of the past she’d like to let go of. Childhood shit, disappointing men. Hurts too unwieldy to even think in words. Her sister Feyre says Nesta is an ice queen, but she feels more like a golem, a being of earth and stone piloted only by what’s expected of her.

Nesta doesn’t get to want this. Can’t stand the idea of it being used against her.

“Ignorance is my only refuge, then.”

His eyebrow quirks, and there’s a scar through it, she notices, a tiny slash where the hair no longer grows. Cassian is looking at her like she’s just revealed something, though she can’t imagine what. A lemon-scented wind blows through the docks, setting the boats to rocking. Setting her heart to galloping.

What a mess.

“See you in the morning, Dr. Archeron,” Cassian says before releasing her, sauntering back toward The Windhaven to prep it for the next day.

After clearing the bathroom of its resident lizards, Nesta spends the next hour letting a cool shower hit her in the face, trying to determine what on earth he’s just discovered.

At dawn, the dock at is deserted.

“Of course. Of fucking course!” Nesta grouses as she throws her hands in the air. “I’m failing all those little shits.”

“Cmon Nes,” Gwyn says blearily, rubbing at her eyes. “We’ve been going nonstop for weeks. They deserve to let off a little steam.”

Good professor showing up again to play her part. Gwyn has always been the more forgiving of the two of them. Nesta rips out the rubber band to redo her braid, hair already frizzing in the humid morning air.

“They can do that at the dig wrap party. At this rate there won’t be anything to celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?”

As if summoned by her ire, Cassian appears then, swinging his boat keys on a long lanyard. Curly black hair flows down to his shoulders, hips loose in the swagger of a man who’s either been up for hours or never went to bed at all.

Gwyn beams. “The dig party next week! You’re invited! Everyone who’s helped out can come, not just us. We couldn’t have done this without you!”

“Which isn’t saying much. Can we get going?” Nesta says impatiently. “I’d like to get this day over with before I want to kill anyone else.”

Cassian grins and fall into step with Nesta as they trudge toward the storehouse, murmuring, “I thought I was the only one you wanted to kill, sweetheart.”

Nesta has to concentrate hard on the rocky path beneath them, to keep from tripping.

It takes a while to shuttle all the equipment from the apothiki with only three of them, and by the time the mainland starts to recede Nesta is sweaty, grouchy, and already plotting the anti-recommendation letters she’ll write when asked.

She doesn’t want to care this much, to be this hurt. Maybe that’s why she accepts Cassian’s offer to help them disembark after only two refusals. It’s definitely not because his biceps look delicious when he hefts a plastic tub full of Gwyn’s surveying equipment over his head, tanned thighs flexing under faded shorts as he climbs the steep slope.

And how is she supposed to refuse his curious questions after that, when he’s looking around the empty dirt pit like he’s never seen something so interesting? When he picks up a chisel and says, Put me to work, Doc, in that magical, wavy accent, how is she supposed to say no?

Nesta blames her students.

They go to work in the same corner where she was toiling yesterday. Nesta shows him how to read the earth for signs of disturbance, the right pressure to apply to his pickax. He’s a fast learner, thank god, and he tells her about his childhood on the mainland while they sift through layers of nothing, leading to a very unfortunate discovery.

Cassian is funny. And not like the men in Velaris she’s used to who think they’re funny, who took an improv class once and think that qualifies them to muse about taking up stand-up comedy for the next decade. He’s quick, unruffled by the heat and the boredom, perfectly content to narrate their work from the perspective of the seagulls like the two of them are subject of a nature documentary. Nesta thinks the day would be entirely wasted if not for the laughs he pulls from her creaky lungs, the ones no one outside her close friends have heard in years.

It's dangerous, to get so carried away. The earth blurs before her, panic igniting even as she never wants this to stop.

Until she chips away in one spot, and a pinkish shard of pottery emerges.

The piece is strange, disjointed. A seam runs through the middle as if it’s been repaired, three small holes drilled in a triangular pattern. She picks up another piece and finds the same just as Cassian brushes away at a grooved stone, a pair of praying hands etched into the surface.

“That’s the symbol for the Mother.” Bits of information whiz through her brain, snippets of lectures and articles. She’s seen a piece like this before at the National Museum of Velaris, in their room dedicated to the ancient Cesereans.

“It’s a hearthstone.” The kind that only sat in permanent dwellings, the heart of a house. Nesta can’t hold back the tremble in her voice when her eyes connect with Cassian’s and she says, “We’re in the kitchen.”

Excitement crackles.

As if traveling through time, Nesta sees in her imagination how it must’ve risen around them.

And the pottery shard she’s still holding starts to take shape too, the form of a bowl following the curves, layers of time peeling back. And despite what her undergrad Classics professor said, peering into the past is not at all like looking down into a well.

It’s like a hand reaching out and grabbing hers. Thrilling and terrifying, the long stretch of history condensed to a door that’s just been opened.

“Look at this,” she says, tracing the line as Cassian hovers over her shoulder. “It broke, and someone repaired it. Turned it into a strainer.” No visitor would’ve bothered. “Think about the last person who touched this.”

Nesta pictures a woman washing apricots, like the ones candied in sugar she eats from the fruit stall when they get off the dig site every day. Of the mug Emerie bought her on clearance in an airport that says I’m a pretty big deal in the spearfishing community, the one she glued the handle back onto because it makes her laugh so much. She pictures someone digging that mug from the wreckage of Velaris two thousand years from now, holding that mended handle and laughing, too.

Cassian’s eyes are bright when she steals a glance back at him, emotion shimmering.

“I could be related to them.”

“You could.”

He swipes at his face, arm coming away wet. Clears his throat. “Why would someone come all the way out here?”

“That’s the question. It must’ve been significant.”

Her theory is that some ritual activity occurred here, she tells him. Watches a quiet admiration creep across his face as she details her rationale. Whether he understands a word of it or not, she can feel the pull between their bodies, the dusty air charged between them.

“They had lives and feelings,” Nesta finds herself saying. “They wanted things. I think that deserves to be remembered.”

Cassian keeps staring at her in that sun-bright way, and Nesta doesn’t know what they’re talking about anymore. Doesn’t know what to do when he reaches to take her hand, closing his own around it and the pottery shard she still holds.

“Thank you for this.” Gravel lines his voice, and she wants to run it through a sifter to find all the meaning inside. “I’m glad none of your students showed up today.”

“Why, so you can take credit?”

“No. I don’t want to share this with anyone else.” He’s blocking out the glare now, leaving her cool in his shadow. “You make me feel greedy, Nesta.”

A gull cries far-off, but Nesta can only hear the sound of her own heart racing. Cassian tips his head toward the sun and it shines down on his smiling face, warming down through the stone.

It’s only the beginning, more and more pieces unearthed from the ruins of the kitchen over the rest of the morning, a veritable treasure trove. He helps them load everything into apothiki once ashore, whistling as he carries out Nesta’s militant instructions. With an eye on the door for hungover students, Cassian pulls her in with sea-rough hands and kisses her like he wants to do much more.

His mouth tastes like earth.

Nesta doesn’t sleep that night. Instead she catalogs every piece as a high moon rises, a waxing gibbous near to hatching.

The dig wrap party is euphoric, and not just because everyone’s been over-served. There are bigwigs from the Historical Bureau here to marvel over their finds, a whole kitchen’s worth, and the students can see the dollars raining down like the leaves of the cypress trees strung with lights.

It should feel good. Better than this, anyway, because as Nesta nurses her lone glass of wine, she can’t help wondering why the place inside her that should be swollen with pride is empty.

An old feeling, one she’s never been able to make sense of.

“Is your boyfriend here yet?” Gwyn smirks when Nesta shoves at her friend’s shoulder. They don’t have to wait long before a crowd of students forms around one end of the bar, a familiar curly-haired head poking well above the rest.

“Can I steal you?” Cassian says once he finally makes his way over, after extricating himself from a gaggle of doe-eyed undergrads. Nesta feels like she’s swallowed a huge dirt clod, but Gwyn answers for her.

“Of course you can! Nesta hates these things, don’t you, Nes?”

“I do,” Nesta barely manages before his big-ass hand is closing around her own, pulling her out back of the restaurant they’ve rented to a small goat path that leads toward the sea.

The Windhaven bobs in the current, bumping gently against the dock. After many reassurances, Nesta lets him pilot them to a secluded cove, the hull cutting through the black water like a sharpened blade, the past and present dividing.

“The land speaks to you here,” Cassian says when he tosses down the anchor at last, pulling the extra line taut. “I thought you might like to hear what it has to say.”

“Why?”

The wind tugs at the hem of her sundress.

“It’s probably saying thank you. For not letting those people be forgotten.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing. Nesta braces her hands against the bow, trying to find some sense in the spaces between the stars.

It’s completely cloudless, and this far out there’s no light pollution, so she can see meteors cascading across the sky like rain. Cassian comes to stand beside her, shoulders brushing.

“Look look, it’s the space station!” he says after a moment, tracking a finger across the sky before he raises a hand and waves. Nesta snorts.

“You know there’s no way the astronauts can see you.”

“I know,” Cassian says, shrugging, and god she wants to kiss him. “But just in case, I don’t want to leave them hanging.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Nesta asks, more harshly than she means to. His answering smile is nervous, tight.

“Cassian.”

“No, I mean—never mind. It doesn't matter.”

It’s a very early mid-life crisis. It must be. Why else should she be so fixated on the way this weird-ass man’s mind works, how he seems to find wonder in the smallest things? And why is she jealous?

This is a mistake, undoubtedly. Nesta has ground herself down to the bone to get where she is. Fought her way through school, through the sludge of academia, been called difficult and prickly and a bitch in her quest to be taken seriously. Worn every label as a badge of bloody honor. Suffocated the part of her that just wants to let go and say fuck it all, to do something she wants instead of what she has to.

"Doesn't it?"

Cassian is backlit by the half moon glinting off the water, stray curls springing free from the bun atop his head.

And then he’s kissing her, and his mouth tastes like lemon and something else, something addictive. It’s the brandy sours that are as bizarre as they are popular here, that Nesta now doesn’t know how she’s gone so long without. Her fingers skate down skin so warm, like it’s drunk in the sunlight and trapped it inside him.

“Nes,” he breathes once they finally part, and she digs her nails into his shoulders, drawing a sharp inhale.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Yes, Dr. Archeron.”

Exhaustion collides with her better judgment, and Nesta pushes him back to sit on the bow, swings a leg over his hips so she’s straddling his lap. Plunges her hands into all that lush, dark hair, and says, “Fuck it.”

It all flows from somewhere deep within her, the brush of hands against skin, lips against lips. She stays so locked away, never allowed to feel the good things she works so hard to achieve. Locked up, locked out, looking into everything that feels like it should belong to her but she can never reach.

Nesta doesn’t know why this is the moment everything shifts for her, and even when she looks back years later it’ll never quite make sense. The alchemy of the island breeze, the deep black night between the stars, all greater than the sum of its parts.

And she lets herself have it. Each wicked, wild bit of her comes out of their dark corners and she’s laughing, head tipped back in euphoria and who the fuck cares that she has no idea where her bra is, whether or not she’ll get tenure. It doesn’t fucking matter. There’s value in being stupid, she thinks, wondering why she’s tried all this time to be so smart.

“You look like you’re swimming in a sea of stars,” Cassian says, looking up at her. Nesta smiles when he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, fingers of his other hand tangling with hers.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a poet.”

The half moon hangs above them, cracked open.

“Every man can be a poet with the right inspiration.”

His hands are on her breasts then, pinching and squeezing, and she doesn’t have to force the moans that travel up her throat. They sound different like this, when they’re not for show.

It’s a kind of madness, being touched by Cassian. Like he’s weaving some spell through every cell in her body, enchanting them all to crave him, to want more more more even as she can barely take it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he insists between nips at her throat, the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“No, but I’m feeling good about myself tonight so I’ll guess it was the first time you saw me.”

He laughs against her chest, hands squeezing her hips. “Close. It was the first time I watched you walk away.” Cassian squeezes her hips again for emphasis, roaming down to grab a handful of her ass.

“I should’ve left you on the island.”

“Good. Then you’d have to come back for me.”

Of course he has a condom in the boat’s center console, and he grins when she rolls her eyes.

“Sailors have to be prepared, I suppose?”

“I’m a poet, not a saint, sweetheart.”

The boat rocks them both as she sinks down onto his lap again. All velvety, warm softness in the night air, the breeze dancing, swirling upward, igniting.

They both want to go slow, want to savor it, but their discipline is beginning to tire. Nesta can’t help picking up her pace, fissures of pleasure splitting her apart. She tells herself there will be time to indulge later, hoping it’s not a lie.

It’s not.

Students trickle out over the next few days, flights home or to other far-flung destinations to decompress before fall semester. Nesta pushes her flight back once, and then again. It’s hard to remember why she wants to go back, when everything she’s been looking for is right here.

They swim in grottos, pick lemons from the tree outside his door and spritz them over fresh-caught fish, in the brandy sours she’s finally perfected. One night he licks the juice off her finger before hoisting her onto the counter, going to his knees between her spread thighs a moment later, his favorite place to be.

“I’ll visit you,” Cassian promises against her skin when they’re splayed out in his bed later, her temporary home the last two weeks. “I’ll do whatever it takes so this doesn’t end here.”

I love you, Nesta thinks as they stand outside his car at the Arrivals gate. Doesn’t say it, because this isn’t a fucking Hallmark movie. You haven’t been able to see someone off inside the airport in twenty years. No one is running past families and old ladies and men with briefcases, but they still kiss just as desperately amidst the smell of gasoline from idling cars, the unrelenting eye of the midday sun.

I love you.

She’s not ready to unearth it yet. It sits quietly beneath to soil of her mind, waiting to be dug up.

But the shape of the thought must reach him, for when he pulls back, Cassian smiles like he already knows.

Nesta smiles too, in case whoever’s strainer is packed in her carry-on can feel it travel down her arm through the handle, in case the astronauts are up there somewhere in the blue, smiling back.

Notes:

History fun facts: the amulet mentioned in the beginning is not always what we typically think of as a talisman or protective charm. some amulets during the Ptolemaic period served more like seals or signatures, where a carving would be done in the bottom of a small stone block. The amulet could then be dipped in ink and stamped on contracts, letters, and bills of sale. Many amulets have been found with holes drilled through the top, suggesting they may have been worn on strings around the neck or on a belt. Very helpful for lay people who didn’t know how to write. I also chose Cesere as the fictional location as a nod to the actual dig site I worked on, which was a temple of Apollo commissioned by Cleopatra. She commissioned a number of them across Cyprus to commemorate the birth of her son, Caesarion, whose father of course was Julius Caesar. Historical record tells us these temples were places where young boys (age 3-4) would go for the first time to spend the night away from their mothers. There they would engage in various rituals and ceremonies to symbolize their transition, kind of like Boy Scout camp. During the dig I found a blank amulet, which suggests people could’ve been carving them on the island, perhaps a token of the boys’ entry into the next phase of life. Caesarion himself was named co-ruler of the Egypt by Cleopatra in 44BC, at the age of 3. He unfortunately only lived to the age of 16/17, when he was captured by Julius Caesar’s successor, Octavion, in Alexandria (Caesar had already burned the library by this point). Upon Caesarion’s capture, Octavion is purported to have said “"Too many Caesars is not good”, a play on the famous Homeric idiom “too may rulers is not good”, aka too many cooks in the kitchen. After conquering Alexandria, Octavion likely had Caesarion executed to avoid challenges to his status as emperor, ending the once-powerful Ptolemaic dynasty and officially absorbing Egypt into the Roman Empire. Finally, the mug Nesta mentions is based on a real-life mug I thought of the first time I pulled a piece of Cypriot sigillata out of the ground. Only mine was a 2008 Sarah Palin mug my dad found at the airport in Anchorage. Yes, I still have it.

#nessian #sjmromanceweek #sjmromanceweek2025 #day three: first i love you #modern au #modern nessian #nesta x cassian

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