#to be fair this candle actually does give off hella good light

[tricornonthecob]

"I love working by candlelight" she says, a single 3-wick scented candle to her right, awash in the bright, blue-light glow of two twenty-seven inch monitors.

[breathinginthevapor]

Snowed in

Summary: You and Luke have the same friend group, but hate each other. On a skiing trip with your friends, you end up being trapped inside the cabin because of a blizzard, just the two of you.

A/N: Who doesn’t like 7.5k words about the amazingly cheesy subject of enemies-to-lovers? It’s cute, it’s fluffy, it’s hella long, so I think you should give it a read and tell me what you think! I’m still practicing writing long things where there actually happens somethng but I’m excited about this, also because I’ve finished this much faster than my usual writing. Enjoy!

T/W: mentions of alcohol, (very) slight nsfw, fluffff

Masterlist

He sighs annoyed, frustratingly running a hand through the curly blond locks, “Why does this seem awfully much like something our friends would do?”

“Oh yeah, I can’t believe I forgot our friends are all magicians who have summoned this blizzard and trapped us here,” you sarcastically snort and roll your eyes at his terrible stupidity.

Idiot

He mirrors your expression, blue irises turning towards to the ceiling as he reasons with a voice that sounds like you’re a child that doesn’t understand the simplest mathematical formula, “I’m not saying that, you wombat-”

“Wombat? ‘the fuck do you mean?” you interrupt.

“Australian curse-word for a stupid or slow person,” he explains with an arrogant smile playing on his lips before continuing, “As I was saying, they could possibly have seen a warning about the blizzard on the news and then go out for ‘sightseeing’ in a town where we all know there’s absolutely nothing even remotely exciting and oh, how convenient that they’ve put the two of us on cleaning duty in the meantime.”

He pauses to take a breath, expression smug.

Ugh, he’s such an ass

“They just had to hope that the blizzard would actually arrive and snow us in.”

You hate to admit it, but he has a point

Damnit

Besides, it’s true. Your friends have been trying to ease up the tension between you and Luke for a long time, and, knowing your friends, it would only take a certain amount of time for them to go to extreme measures.  

You sink down onto the sofa with a growl, not even trying to hide your frustration. It’s no secret you and Luke don’t exactly get along.

Some of your best and closest friends call him their brother, basically family after being in a band together for so long, but you’ve always thought their fame and success have gone to that pretty, little head of his.

Because it is pretty, his head.

Just like the rest of his body, if you’re being honest.

Pretty might even be an understatement.

He’s fucking gorgeous.

But he’s still an arrogant, self-centred, insolent, intolerable piece of shit, and you can’t believe you’re snowed in with him, of all people. This can’t possibly get worse.

Just as the thought passes through your head, you’re proven wrong when the light turns off.

“‘ucking hell, please tell me that wasn’t the electricity switching off right there,” he pleads desperately, using his incredibly long legs to reach the light switches with only three steps.

He pushes the buttons over and over, but nothing happens.

“Cut it, Luke, it won’t work.”

He doesn’t look like he registers your words as he keeps hitting the switches. Still, nothing happens.

“Save that energy for something else. If the lights are out, we’ll have to find some candles. It’ll start getting dark soon.”

Finally, he stops his movements and turns to look at you, biting his lip angrily, although you get the feeling he isn’t angry at you, but more at the circumstances.

“If you search the kitchen and bathroom, I’ll check the rooms and then we’ll make a plan for everything else, alright?” you propose, and though he certainly doesn’t look content with you taking control, he obeys and starts to search through the drawers.

You get up yourself, first walking into the room Ashton shares with Calum (you swear, those two will end up getting married someday) finding nothing remotely similar to a candle, even checking Ashton’s suitcase for one of those scented ones he always freaks out over.

Then, you check the room you share with Crystal (it’s been decided that Mike and Crys aren’t allowed to share a room because then none of you will get any sleep having to listen to them “bone” (Ashton’s term, not yours) all night) but there’s nothing candle-like in there either.

Before searching through Luke and Michael’s room, you walk into the empty one where Roy and Mitchy were supposed to sleep. Unfortunately, they got sick just before you left, both suffering from high fever and nausea. You’re guessing that they probably shared a kiss last time you all went out and ended up infecting each other.

Lastly, you search through drawers and suitcases and cabinets and under piles of dirty clothing, but in the end, you have to give up and cross your fingers that Luke has been luckier than you.

Just the thought of him makes your blood boil with anger.

But just like it seemed like his anger was directed towards the situation and not you, yours are set ablaze by the thought of your friends scheming this.

They’re all dicks, and you hope they freeze terribly

Speaking of freezing, isn’t it getting kind of cold in here?

You gasp, the realization hitting you.

“Luke!” you yell, forgetting all about your irritation towards the blue-eyed musician and instead focusing on the problem in hand.

“Yeah?”

His voice sounds muffled and weird, which makes sense when you walk back into the living room and see his long body leaning towards a cabinet. It seems like his whole head is in there, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him, posture reminding you of an ostrich.

He tries to escape but bumps his head against the top of the cupboard, letting out a loud groan and a string of curses.

Perhaps it wouldn’t normally be this funny, but with the adrenaline pulsing through your body, you crack up with laughter. It doesn’t get better when his head finally escapes, cheeks painted with a deep red blush.

“Did you find any candles?” he questions, voice stern but with a tone of embarrassment as he changes the subject of attention away from his own clumsiness.

It surprises you how easy you find it to read him. You shouldn’t know him that well, you don’t.

So why do you immediately conclude that the way he scratches his neck and licks his lips mean he’s uncomfortable?

To be fair, those things could be explained by the fact that they are universal behavioural patterns, but that doesn’t reveal why you feel the sudden urge to hug him, or why you even notice them in the first place.

Weird

You remind yourself that he asked you a question, and that it’ll be even weirder if you just stand here in silence, so you clear your throat, “No, did you?”

He shakes his head, curls bopping lightly.

They look reallyyy soft

Wow, Y/N, get a grip

You curse yourself far away and the assure your very worried brain that these thoughts only are caused by the knowledge that Luke will probably be your only company for many hours to come and maybe also the fact that he looked kind of cute when he got flustered and clumsy and yeah, you’ve always had a thing for cute, clumsy boys tripping over themselves or something so it’s probably nothing more than that or anything to worry about.

You take a step back, so your upper thighs are pressed against the dining table. You jump up, bum now placed securely on the table and feet dangling back and forth.

You’ve spent enough time fawning over Luke’s pretty face now, you decide, and so, it’s time to address the concerning realization you made before.

“So, I just realized that it’s getting colder in here and that the heaters probably shut down along with the lights.”

Almost by cue, you shudder, goose bumps rising on your skin at the cold air.

“We should probably try to light the fireplace if we don’t want to freeze to death.”

You glance at Luke, trying to figure out how he receives your words. Fortunately, he seems to agree, nodding his head slightly which gives you the courage to continue.

“You look like a boy scout type, so if you do that, I’ll try to message our friends and assure them we’re OK, so they don’t get worried,” you pause, wrinkling your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “If the electricity is out, we can’t charge our phones.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you and immediately, he goes back to the Luke you’ve grown to hate.

Brilliant

“Outstanding observation, Ms. obvious,” he mocks you, and it makes you want to hit him.

Preferably in the balls so he’ll never get the chance to produce babies and make the world a worse place with his offspring.

Prick

“And also, did you just say that I look like a ‘boy scout’? First of all, that’s very prejudiced of you, and second of all, that’s certainly not what the beautiful blonde in my bed said this Tuesday morning.”

“Just shut up and do your job, Hemmings,” you command with a sigh, sliding down from the table while trying not to think about Luke and some pretty girl naked.

The thought makes your stomach churn, but it’s probably just the thought of your arch-enemy naked.

Disgusting

You grab your phone from the kitchen counter, relieved to find that there’s at least 20% back on it.

Finally, some good news

But while ignoring Luke’s quit mutterings about you being dominating and annoying as he throws wood into the hearth, you see your battery percentage fall to 12% and realise that you’ll have to be quick, ignoring the many calls and text from your friends.

“We’re snowed in but alright. electricity out so no phone charging. pls come back soon so we dont kill each other - luke and y/n”

You send the text to Ashton (figuring he’s the most responsible) just before your phone shuts down, screen turning black.

You sigh. No entertainment left besides Luke.

How fucking great

“Luke? How much battery does your phone have left?”

His gaze stays fixed on the hearth as he shrugs, back still turned towards you.

“Dunno. Think it’s on my bed.”

But to make things even worse, Luke’s phone is just as dead as your own. All contact to the outside world is cut off.

You sink down onto the floor, resting your face in your hand and trying to gather energy for this. Perhaps you should hide the knives somewhere or throw them out into the snow so none of you gets stabbed before the others get back.

“The fire’s looking fine, if my boy scout knowledge is anything to go from,” Luke mockingly announces, emphasising your former words.

There’s a pause where none of you say anything, only the low sound of snowflakes hitting the glass breaking the silence before he clears his throat, tone shifting to a softer one as he checks, “Hey, you’re ok?”

You can hear him come closer, the floor creaking beneath his feet. Then, you can feel his body right beside you, legs almost touching.

You look up, the worried expression on his face surprising you.

You swallow a lump in your throat and nod, “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m alright. Jus’ worried.”

He shoots you a small smile, one of the corners of his mouth more upwards than the other. It looks cute, actually, like he’s a young boy.

Oh God, Y/N, this need to stop

“It’ll be fine. The snow will be gone soon and then the others will come back,” he soothes.

You nod, biting your lip. You don’t dare to say anything, though, scared that you’ll cry if you do.

“Shame we don’t got any booze. Could ’ave been fun.”

You both chuckle.

“Yeah. It could,” you agree.

“What’s the plan now, scout leader?” he jokes, hitting your shoulder playfully with his.

“Think ‘s just called a scouter, Luke.”

He acts offended, mouth agape, “We’ve established that I’m the experienced scout here, so I think I’m right.”

You laugh at his exaggerated expression, “Alright, alright, boy scout. I think we should grab our mattresses and lay them in front of the fire to stay warm and then eat some leftovers.”

He salutes, standing up and exchanging his hand to you, helping you up as well.

You can’t help but notice how the air between you has changed, how none of you are annoyed by each other right now, and that he even comforted you.

It must be the weird circumstances you are in, and you must admit that it’s more tolerable to be stuck in the cabin if you’re on good terms with your “inmate”.

“See you in five,” he says as you walk out the door.

You turn your head, smiling and nodding at him before going to your room to move your mattress.

Turns out, mattresses are surprisingly heavy, and although sweat are beginning to appear on your forehead, you’ve only carried it a couple feet so far.

“Need help?” Luke offers, as he pops up in your door frame.

You’re about to snap at him, the exercise making you irritated and increase the risk of falling back into old habits, but then you take a deep breath and put on a forced smile, “‘s alright, I can do it myself.”

He starts laughing, especially when you grunt, out of breath, “Sure looks like it.”

The frosty stare you give him stops his laughter, though. “Alright, you may help,” you accept through gritted teeth.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he sarcastically agrees and rolls his eyes at you, but nonetheless grabs the farther end of the mattress and lifts it with ease.

Show-off

With Luke’s help, it doesn’t take long before your mattress is placed in front of the hearth, across from Luke’s.

“I’m gonna change into something more comfortable,” he announces, disappearing into his room, and you follow his lead, searching through your tiger-striped suitcase.

You settle on an old band shirt you stole from Michael once and a pair of black leggings that makes your ass look good.

Never hurts to look cute

But as you have stripped yourself of your jeans, bra and sweater, you suddenly hear a quiet voice behind you.

“Shit.”

You quickly pull the band shirt over your head and turn around, knowing that the fabric will cover you up from your neck to the top of your thighs.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” Luke gulps visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Is that-” he clears his throat, “Is that my shirt?”

A breath gets stuck in your throat as you look down.

“No? It’s Michaels?” you deny, but it sounds like a question, and you realize that this might not be Michael’s old shirt after all. Actually, now that you think about it, you kind of remember Luke wearing it once.

Well done, Y/N

He chuckles awkwardly, scratching his neck.

“Um, no. That- that isn’t- that’s my shirt. I think I left it at Michael’s once and then couldn’t find it, so um, that’s probably why,” he rambles, cheeks pink.

You feel the blush on your own cheeks, heat rushing to your face.

Fucking great

“Do you- do you want it back now or?” you then question, not knowing why the prospect of letting go of the shirt seems even harder now that you know it’s his.

Fortunately, he shakes his head, “‘s alright, you can keep it. Don’t listen that much to them anymore, and it definitely looks better on you anyway.”

The last comment just turns his cheeks even more red.

“Thank you,” you mumble, looking down, “would you- would you mind? I still need to put on pants.”

He nods, whole face now painted red as he closes the door gently behind him.

Oh lord. Luke fucking Hemmings just saw you in nothing but panties

It takes you unusually long to put on the leggings, using the few extra minutes to get your brain and heart beat under control.

“Wanna get something to eat?” you ask once you’ve entered the living room, your voice clearly startling Luke as he jumps.

You laugh, and it only makes you laugh harder when he eyes you like you’re his next murder victim.

“Sure,” he grumpily agrees, standing up from the mattress.

How can he look so good in pyjamas? Unfair

He’s wearing grey sweatpants and the 5sos rose hoodie you’ve had your eyes on since the boys released their new merch, and he looks terribly cuddly.

“Is lukewarm lasagne our only option?”

You nod tiredly, grabbing the lasagne from the non-functioning fridge.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Almost-sour milk, coke completely void of fizz or Ashton’s weird cranberry juice?” you jokingly offer, talking like you’re a servant in a restaurant.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “Think I’ll stick with water.”

“Such a bore.”

“Oh, what are you gonna have, miss exciting-choice-of-drink?”

You slowly walk closer, sensually eyeing him and forcing yourself to pretend you’re trapped in a female version of Magic Mike.

“I’ve heard celebrity saliva taken directly from the source should be incredibly… tasty.”

You lick your lips, and he lifts his eyebrows with an amused expression

“Oh, you have?”

Why do you always do weird shit like this?

You lean closer, you lips only inches apart from Luke’s when you suddenly take a step back and speak with your normal voice, “Yeah. But not if it comes from arrogant, blond assholes, and I’m not taking any chances today.”

He laughs, “Yeah ‘cause I’m the arrogant one here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you question, sensing a small hint of truth although his joking tone.

He shrugs and looks at you like he doesn’t know if you’re being serious.

You think he’s going to say something when he swallows, but the silence continues until you’ve grabbed your plate with lasagne and gone back into the living room.

“Don’t think I’m letting you go this easily, Hemmings. I’m just too hungry to perform a full interrogation right now.”

You playfully point at him with your index-finger, but it only makes him rolls his eyes at you with a wry grin.

“Can’t you just decide if you wanna be a scout leader or a police officer?”

His reference to the earlier joke makes you laugh, the air between you now light and friendly in a way you’ve never experienced with Luke. On the contrary, with him, it’s always been hostile and tense. And to be honest, you don’t really know how to act around him when it isn’t.

You’re still deep in thought when the two of you sit down by the fire, soon feeling your skin tingle with warmth.

As you eat the food in silence and drink a bit of water (your choice of drink ended up being just as boring as Luke’s), your eyes fixate on the flames.

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? The fire?” you whisper, your calm tone matching the feeling in your body.

There’s something about watching the fire that gives you peace. It’s amazing to watch how the flames are almost purple in the middle and then turn more orange at the ends.

“It is,” Luke mutters, sounding like he’s out of breath.

You turn your head and look at him to find him watching you instead of the flames. But as soon as your eyes meet his, he turns his gaze away.

Huh. Weird

You place the empty plate on the floor beside you, not having the energy to clean it right now.

“What time is it?” you ask, suddenly feeling kind of sleepy.

Luke looks around, eyes landing on the clock above the pistachio coloured armchair.

“About ten p.m.”

“It’s been a long day,” you yawn, not even embarrassed to be tired so early. It’s truly been an eventful day with skiing in the morning and then this mess with getting snowed in.

“Already tired of my great company?” he jokes, but you sense a tone of worry.

You shake your head with a tired smile, “Surprisingly not. You’re actually not that bad, Hemmings.”

“Wow, thank you. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he chuckles.

“Nooo it isn’t. I’m nice all the time,” you protest with a childish whine, sliding beneath the blanket and placing your head on the pillow with a content sigh. It feels good to be laying down, finally.

His cough is so overstated you immediately know it’s fake.

“Funny,” he states dryly.

You turn your head to look at him, trying to figure out if he’s joking.

“Aren’t I nice?” you then question, your genuinely worried tone seemingly surprising the blond.

“Well, you are right now. Still a pain in the ass, but nice enough,” he winks at you at his last words, and you throw a decorative pillow at him and giggle at the grimace he makes.

After a couple seconds, he elaborates, “But I dunno, nice isn’t really the word I’d use to describe your usual self. Not with me, at least.”

His last words are said lower than the rest, causing a hint of guilt to appear inside you.

You rest your head in your hands, elbows on the pillows.

“But you’re the one who isn’t nice!” you argue, and he looks at you with his eyes screwed up tightly.

“Only because you’ve been mean to me ever since we met.”

“What? I was mean to you? You started it!”

You realise how childish you sound, but it really is his fault.

Isn’t it?

“No, you did. Don’t you remember? Crys introduced us at that weird western bar, and you wouldn’t even talk to me the whole night, only the other guys.”

You can’t believe that his view on the night you met is so different from yours.

“I tried to! But every time I said anything to you, you looked at me like I was stupid and continued playing candy crush on your phone, and when-”

“I did not!” he cuts you off.

“Yes, you did! And I felt so rejected ‘cause I thought you were soooo hot and when I asked if anyone wanted to dance and looked at you only, you just grunted and left to get a drink!”

Fuck. You did not just say that

You did not just admit to Luke that you think he’s hot

He seems to have noticed, too, a smug grin playing on his pretty pink lips.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Thought. Past tense,” you dryly correct him, already growing annoyed at him again. Scratch everything you’ve though tonight about him not being as bad as you thought. He’s still an ass

“Sure about that, babe?”

His arrogant tone sets you off, making you abruptly stand up from your mattress.

“Don’t you fucking babe me, Hemmings. I’m not one of your goddamn groupies.”

Your words are spiteful, eyes blazing, and you enjoy seeing him squirm. He soon regains his confidence though, eyes cocky as they lock with yours.

“Just admit it, and I’ll show you a good time. We have all night, babe.”

You look at him with disbelief, and you see it in his face that he knows he’s crossed the line. Big time.

“I’d rather die, thank you.”

And you turn on your heel, ignoring his calls for you as you slam the door to your room behind you.

Normally, you’re down for weird, sexual jokes, but this one, with Luke, crosses the line. It’s a mix of tiredness, your low energy level making you react more extremely to things you wouldn’t be bothered by normally, and the fact that you finally bared yourself to Luke, and he was a dick about it.

To your own surprise, you feel your eyes turning wet.

You know you’re overreacting, and that it’s a stupid little thing, but when he knocks on your door, you still yell at him to go away.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t. Instead, he closes the door quietly behind him and walks over to where you sit on your bed.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. For being a dick. An utter, complete dick.”

You can’t help but laugh at his choice of words, but because you’re crying, it sounds more like a grunt.

“Can I sit down?” he then requests, voice apologetic and gentle.

You nod, trying to dry your eyes with the back of your hands.

“It’s alright,” you hiccup, “‘m just overreacting.”

He shakes his head, removing your hands from your face and taking them in his instead, “No, you’re not. I dunno why I said those things, but you have every right to be mad and hurt by it.”

Perhaps he’s not as big an idiot as you thought. Also, is it just you or are his hands really soft? Like, not soft-soft, because his fingertips are a bit rough, probably caused by playing guitar, but the warmth of his hands is really nice against yours

Shit, your emotions are a rollercoaster today. Must be the whole snowed-in thing

“‘s just been a weird day, I guess,” you assure him, when you’ve got your sobbing under control.

“It really has,” he giggles, and you’re surprised by how cute it sounds.

There are so many parts of him. The cocky, mean one he usually is around you. The confident, talented, charismatic one you’ve seen him transform into on stage. The beautiful, funny one you’ve met today along with the cute, clumsy one that’s also peaked up today.

You definitely like the two latter best.

“I’m already cold again. Can we go back to the hearth and forget this ever happened?”

He nods, relieved, and lets go of one of your hands when he stands up. However, he still has hold of one of them, guiding you back. It feels a bit sweaty, but you don’t mind. At all. Actually, it’s nice and gives you a calm feeling in your stomach. Like everything’s going to be ok, and your friends will reach you soon.

And like there’s a small part of you that hopes they won’t get here too fast.

But nobody needs to know that

He only lets you go once you’ve returned to your mattresses, but then you stand up again.

He looks at you like one big question mark, and if you weren’t so exhausted from all the crying and fighting and general weird things today, you would have laughed.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

He nods, standing up as well and following close behind you on the way to the bathroom.

Should you take his hand? You want to take it, but would it make things weird?

Before you’ve decided on anything, though, you’ve reached the bathroom.

“‘m jus’ gonna go get my toothbrush from the other bathroom,” he states, quickly disappearing and then reappearing just as fast.

You’re the first one to make a weird face in the mirror, causing him to crack up laughing and spit toothpaste on the mirror which only makes you laugh so hard you almost swallow all your own toothpaste. Then, it becomes a contest to see who can keep a straight face when the other makes a particularly ugly grimace.

When you’ve finally spit out in the sink, your body feels relaxed and your eyes shine with amusement.

This mess definitely hasn’t been as bad as you thought it’d be.

You both crawl underneath your blankets after he has put more fire in the hearth to prevent it from dying.

You pull the blanket up, so it rests right beneath your eyes, returning the stare he shoots you.

“This has been a surprisingly not-awful day,” he admits, words making you laugh.

His face is lit up by the fire, painting his face with golden light while his lower body is shadowed. The colour makes him look almost angelic, like a sunset. He’s even more beautiful than normally.

You just hope you don’t have to pee tonight, because the fire is your only source of light.

“Yeah. ‘s been alright, actually. The lasagne was shit, though.”

He chuckles, “True, but it was almost as shitty yesterday, though. Michael’s just a really bad cook.”

“You’re one to talk,” you tease, knowing that Luke is, by far, the biggest mess in a kitchen.

“Hey! I actually don’t burn toast anymore!”

You erupt into a fit of laughter, his faked hurt and angry expression only making you laugh harder.

“My- stomach- hurts-” you gasp, still laughing.

“I think you’re overtired,” he says, smiling wryly at you once you’ve finally calmed down.

His words make you yawn, and then he giggles.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers, voice silky smooth.

“Goodnight, Luke.”

You close your eyes, still feeling the flames on your eyelids. It’s surprisingly nice to lay beside Luke, listening to his breathing and letting it lull you to sleep.

But just as you begin to drift up, Luke’s low voice wakes you, “Y/N? You awake?”

You release a yawn, eyes fluttering open.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

The silence takes over for a few seconds, before he continues, voice low and unsure, “What if we never get out?”

His words make you wake up completely, heart skipping a beat at the vulnerable tone of his voice. He, who always sounds so sure, now needs your assurance. Before today, you probably wouldn’t have granted it to him, but now, everything feels different.

“We will, Luke. I promise.”

You try to make your voice sound as sure and stern as possible and hope it helps him. In reality, none of you can promise anything related to the weather. You can just hope. But deep inside, you have a feeling this won’t get too serious. That your friends will save you soon, and that removes the fear.

“No, but what if we die in here? We don’t have wood or food enough for weeks. Perhaps a couple days, but not weeks.”

He sounds like a little boy scared of monsters, and your heart clenches at the sound. You don’t know him well enough to decide what will comfort him best, if he needs a touch or words or to talk about something else.

“I promise we’ll be fine,” you try, voice soothing, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. And it is scary, but you can’t really do anything but try to think of something else. Besides, you don’t remember hearing about anyone dying after being snowed in. Worst case, you’ll probably be stuck inside for a couple days and then come out, just a little hungry and tired. At least you won’t be dehydrated with all the snow.

“‘m just so scared. I don’t wanna die in here, Y/N,” he cries out, voice trembling.

Words apparently don’t help him much, so you decide to try a different path.

You lift off your blanket and pat the empty space on your mattress. He tilts his head, probably trying to figure out if you’re serious or not. He seems to decide your expression looks sincere and crawls away from his mattress to yours, sitting down at the verge of it.

He seems unsure of what to do with himself, lanky legs hitting his own mattress as he stretches them out.

“Lay down,” you mutter, watching him grow even more tense before he lays down his back, whole body stiff.

Have you crossed the line? Is this too much?

You decide to put the doubting thoughts to the back of your head and instead just ask him.

“Is this alright?” you question as you gently turn him around to face you.

He nods, Adam’s apple bobbing lightly. His blue eyes lock with yours, the usual icy colour softened and warmed by the flames. Now, they look like a cloudless summer sky.

You reach out, tucking a curl behind his ear. His breath hitches in his throat when your fingertips come in contact with the soft skin behind his ear, index finger lightly tracing down.

You don’t realize you’ve held your own breath as well before he suddenly, like snapping out of trance, reaches out and tugs you closer. His arm drapes across your hip, hand pressed against the swell of your back, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

As you lay there and look at each other, legs touching, warm breaths colliding and his fingers gently caressing your back, you can see how his breathing pattern slows, and he calms down until it almost sounds like he’s asleep.

You can’t help but look at him, take in every small detail of his appearance.

His curls are a frazzled mess, but he is still beautiful. So unfairly beautiful and cuddly and gorgeous, pale skin contrasting to the grey of his hoodie.

Without thinking, you grab the string coming from neck of the fabric, considering pulling it and strangling him a little, but then deciding to put up his nose instead.

He throws his head back at the sudden sensation, then laughing.

“Weirdo,” he mutters, but his tone sounds so affectionate you feel your heart skip a beat.

He then grabs a tuft of your hair and places it over your lips, creating a moustache. You pout your lips and enjoy the way he laughs, eyes squeezed shut and dimples clear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really been close enough to him to properly see the freckles that adorn his face, but this close, they only add to his charm.

Everything about him does

“Your eyes are really blue,” you state.

Why the fuck do you say stupid stuff like that? You and your big mouth

He chuckles, a content smile on his lips even after the laughter have died down.

“And yours are really pretty,” he sheepishly compliments you, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

Stupid hormones

“’m really glad you think I’m hot, Y/N,” he admits, referring to your earlier confession.

“I thought we were done talking ‘bout that!” you protest, hitting his chest lightly and hiding your face in the grey fabric of his hoodie.

“You didn’t let me finish, wombat,” he jokes, repeating his earlier ‘nickname’ for you and gently pushing you away from his chest so you’re facing each other again.

However, his tone has shifted majorly, the playful one gone and replaced by a more serious, perhaps even nervous one, “I’m glad you think I’m hot, Y/N. Because, ever since the day I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how stupidly pretty and funny and amazing you are,” he pauses, visibly swallowing, “And it absolutely killed me that you always seemed to hate me.”

“You did act like an asshole, though,” you remind, earning a small nervous chuckle from him.

He bites his lip, seemingly awaiting your answer.

“But I’ve felt the same way. And today, I dunno, it’s been nice. We’ve spent so much time hating each other, but I really hope we can stay friends after this.”

Friends

You taste the word, feeling it turn bitter on your tongue. You don’t want to be just friends with Luke.

He retreats a bit, looking hurt and insecure and rejected, and it makes your skin itch. The tall, broad man across you shrinks to a little nervous boy under your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you’ve somehow made him uncomfortable, and you hate that you hate it so much. But what you hate the most is the fact that you can no longer hide the fact that Luke is fascinating to you. And that you care for him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, biting his lip and looking down, “Friends.”

“Have I said something wrong?” you whisper, slowly stretching out your hand to touch his chest through the soft fabric.

Your fingertips trace light patterns on it as a breath hitches in his throat.

“Think it’ll kill me to be just friends with you, to be honest,” he admits, voice thick and vulnerable.

The confession makes your cheek heat up, matching the warmth that spreads through your stomach, but there’s still a doubting voice in the back of your head reminding you that this man despised you until a couple hours ago. And if his negative feelings through years can change this fast, these new positive one can as well.

You think your heart will break if that happens.

“We don’t even know each other, though. This is the first time we’ve even talked,” you argue, voice week and unsure. Because, damn, you want to give in, to melt into his touch, his lips, and bury your hands in his curly locks and feel his warm breath on your neck and-

Wow, Y/N, calm down

“Dunno ‘bout you, but I’ve been watching you for years,” he starts, eyes suddenly widening, “In a very non-stalkery way, I swear!”

You giggle, getting his point but still liking the way he trips over his own words. It’s adorable.

He clears his throat, shooting you a small tentative smile.

“‘m just trying to say that I know you, Y/N, at least a bit. I know you like waking up a bit early, even on weekends, so you have the whole day in front of you. I know you like making sarcastic remarks and that you write in your spare time. I know you like experimenting with clothes and hairstyles, that you used to be a fan before you met us, that you draw real’ shitty and that you did a lot of sport before moving here.”

You can’t believe he’s picked up on so many things.

“I probably know a lot more about you, and there’s surely twice as much I don’t know, but ‘m just sayin’ that I want to get to know you. And that everything I’ve learned so far has only made me like you more.”

You don’t think after that. Instead, you move your head forward in one swift movement, clearly catching Luke off guard when you press your lips against his. However, he quickly catches up and moves his mouth in sync with yours, letting your tongue part his lips and swirl around his own. It’s a hungry, almost aggressive kiss, and you fight for dominance while rolling around so you’re straddling him.

He tastes like toothpaste with a hint of lasagne, and his lips are a little chapped but feel amazing against yours.

If someone had told you just hours again that this would happen, you would have shaken your head and called them insane. Now, the only one you’d consider calling that is yourself for not doing this sooner.

Why have you been so stupid?

“Wow,” he mutters when you part, smiling sheepishly and biting his lip. You watch as it turns pink when his teeth let go, barely fighting the urge to be the one to bite them instead.

“Before I kiss you again, I’ll just say that I second everything. And that you won’t get rid of me anytime soon, little scout.”

You pinch his cheek at your last words, making him laugh, teeth spread in a tired, happy grin. His fingers slip under your (or perhaps you should say his) shirt and bury themselves into the soft skin beside your hips which causes you to hiss and then kiss him feverishly.

He gently shoves you away to look at you with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“You could’ave just told me you were into roleplay, scout leader,” he teases with a wink.

“Shut up and kiss me, stupid boy scout.”

He follows orders and lifts his head to reach your lips, nails dipping deeper into your skin in the process. In response, you reach under his hoodie and place your hand on his stomach, feeling the warm skin on his defined abs.

Your hands trail all over his abdomen, living out fantasies you’ve hidden for the past many years as you feel him tense under your touch, muscles flexing and growing harder.

But it’s not enough for you.

You break the kiss apart once more to pull at the hoodie, waiting for him to lift his back and head off the mattress so you can remove it completely.

First, he looks questioningly at you, until the tug at the bottom of the fabric finally makes sense to him and the inquiring expression turning into an excited one.

When he’s finally shirtless, a shadow of insecurity dances across his face for just a few moments.

“Could look at this forever,” you praise him, seeing how he relaxes and untenses at your comment.

“‘s not fair ‘m the only one not wearing a shirt,” he murmurs, winking cheekily at you.

“Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He mutters something under his breath, Adam’s apple bobbing and his swallowing visible. Then, he grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it up, cursing when it gets stuck.

You giggle before wiggling out of it, cheeks heating up under his eyes that fixate on your breasts as you throw it across the floor.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back so the prominent vein on his neck becomes even more visibly. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart.”

You can’t control the smile that creeps onto your face at the nickname, leaning down to kiss him again, chest pressed against his. His tongue explores your mouth, gracing over your teeth, and you moan at the sensation before he-

“We’re back guys! Hope you’re both alive!” Ashton yells, sounding like he jumps the three feet from the front door to the living room where you and Luke lie.

“Fuck, shit, fuck, damn, shit,” Luke swears, looking at you with wide eyes but besides that lying almost frozen in his position.

“Where you’re hidin- oh.”

Ashton stops in his tracks, eyeing you with wide eyes, clearly taken back. Then he turns around, trying to give you privacy as you search for a least something to cover your upper body.

“Don’t come in here, guys! They’re not exactly safe for work,” Ashton yells, chuckling along with his last words.

Lame

You gain hold of Luke’s grey hoodie, pulling it over your head as fast as possible. Your cheeks are basically burning, and when you look at Luke who’s now sitting up after you’ve rolled down from him, his whole upper chest is painted pink, the colour going all the way up his neck to his face.

“You can look now,” you assure them, trying to raise your voice but feeling it wavering.

Ashton slowly turns around and the others step in, eyeing you carefully and puzzled.

“What’s going on?” Crystal softly asks, cocking her head to the side and then noticing Luke’s bare torso and how you both are blushing messes. “Have you? Did you?” She starts, clearly not knowing what to think.

And you get it. You really do. When they left, not more than seven hours ago, you were begging her to take you with them so you wouldn’t have to spend time with Luke and now, they’ve caught you red-handed.

“Whose shirt is this? Pretty sure I’ve seen both of you wearing it,” Calum asks, holding up the band tee you discarded not more than five minutes ago. “Have this been going on for some time?”

You quickly shake your head, “No! No, nothing’s happened between us, I swear!”

You look at Luke through the corner of your eye, seeing the way he tenses at your words, and you curse yourself far away.

Well done, Y/N

“I’m gonna go put on a shirt,” Luke mutters, standing up and walking out of the room with his head bowed.

You decide to follow him, running after him like a lost puppy as you yell, “Luke, please wait! I didn’t- Luke, just wait, let’s talk!”

He stops in the hallway, looking back at you over his shoulder. It seems like he’s debating whether to hear you out or not, but then he bites his lip before walking into his room, letting the door stay open.

You take it as an invite to come in and gently close the door behind you, leaning against its cold frame.

“That came out wrong, ‘m sorry.”

He snorts, rummaging through his suitcase and then throwing on a plain black shirt. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Luke, I meant everything I said today. This has changed everything between us and I’m glad it has, but I still need to adjust to it, and I just didn’t know if this was the right time to tell everything to our friends.” You walk away from the door, stepping closer to him and lowering your voice when you continue, “I think I just wanted to enjoy it myself before having to share it with anyone.”

He finally smiles, but still doesn’t look 100% convinced. It’s funny, how you until today thought he was this overly confident and self-assured prick while he’s just as insecure and self-doubting as any other at the age of twenty-something.

“But you’re right. I don’t think we have a choice but to tell them. And perhaps it’s better anyway, to get it over with now instead of dealing with it later.”

“Later? You mean?”

You nod, smiling. “I told you, Luke. You’re not getting rid of me.”

You kiss him, this time gently and carefully, trying to savour the feeling of his lips against yours and the way you can smell his cologne along with a little hint of sweat and musky boy.

“Unless you want to, of course,” you quickly add, causing him to shake his head.

“They deserve to wait a couple minutes, don’t they?” he whispers, looking at your eyes and then down at your lips. And then he kisses you again, and you can’t believe how it still feels just as amazing as it did the first time.

Yeah. No harm in letting them wait a little.

[rachelstwomoms]

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU: Rachel’s Birthday (Part 1/?)

Sera is a big part of this AU, so if you want to know a little more about her character before reading this story, check her profile out!

Originally written as a birthday gift for @ohdoeadeer .

------------------------------

Stupid.

The birthday girl sits alone, face twisted into a deep scowl, watching her party from her from her spot on the edge of the sofa. Some of her classmates are crowded around the kitchen counters where the party snacks lay out in big bowls, grabbing handfuls of cheese-flavored chips, bright orange dust sticking to fingertips still wet from the pool. She can’t see into the backyard from the living room, but she can hear the boys howling and whooping wildly, playing some kind of obnoxious game that’s causing a lot of splashing. A few of her friends are taking a break from swimming and are watching her from the next room. Whispering. And from the way they keep glancing towards her practically every other word, it’s obvious that they’re talking about her.

Stupid.

Two girls break from their circle and slowly, cautiously come her way.

So she narrows her eyes, locks her jaw in a stiff frown and glares daggers at them. Daring them to take another step. When they freeze, changing their minds and quickly sitting back down, she smirks in satisfaction.

This party is stupid.

Her back itches and she twitches. Tilting her head backwards, she shakes out her long, blonde hair from where it was sticking to her shoulders due to a combination of chlorine, sunscreen and mid-July heat. Sighing and crossing her arms tightly across her chest, she presses herself deeper into the sofa cushions.

It’s not like she expected her party to pause for her.

It’s just really… no, hella unfair and annoying that everyone else gets to be happy and have a great time when this is the worst day of her life.

She wonders how much longer she has until Chloe and Maxine come looking for her.

“Rachel! Where are you?”

Speak of the devils.

Chloe, dripping wet and tracking water across the hardwood floors, spots her first and comes bounding over. Maxine, wrapped like a burrito in her oversized bath towel, trails close behind.

“What are you doing in here?” Chloe plops herself down on the sofa right next to Rachel. “You said you would be right back and that was ages ago. What were you doing?”

Rachel gives a short shrug and gestures to the half-empty cup of orange soda on the coffee table. “I was thirsty.”

“Oh, sweet!” Chloe grabs the cup and takes a swig, then passes it over to Maxine, who first peers inside at the liquid before taking a small sip too. “Anyways, you took forever so Maxine and I finished the game by ourselves.”

“We did wait for you,” Maxine insists, “but you never came back.”

“So, after you left, we found a secret underwater passageway that led us straight into enemy territory!” Chloe explains. “They didn’t see us coming, so we were able to sneak up and ambush them. They put up a good fight but, alas, they were no match for Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver!”

Smiling, Maxine frees one of her hands and holds up something shiny and round. “We got the amulet back.”

“Yeah, no thanks to somebody who abandoned her crew in their time of need,” Chloe teases, expecting a snarky comeback or a playful shove on the shoulder like usual. It never comes. Actually, it doesn’t even look like her friend’s paying attention. She seems to be in a strange sort of mood all of a sudden. Chloe waves a hand in front of Rachel’s face. “Hellooo? Earth to Rachel.”

“Are you okay?” Maxine starts to worry.

Rachel heaves an agitated sigh. “This party hella sucks.”

Chloe and Maxine share an equally confused, equally concerned look. After a moment, Chloe clears her throat and speaks in a lighthearted tone, trying to bring Rachel out of her funk. “Well, anyways, Rose told us to come get you. It’s time for cake!”

Although Rachel doesn’t give a verbal response, she allows her friends to drag her into the dining room where most of the party guests have gathered. Maxine leads Rachel by the hand to the empty chair at the head of the table and tells her to sit. Rose carries a pretty double-tiered cake from the kitchen over to the dining table, eliciting various noises of awe and excitement from Rachel’s sugar craving classmates. Already a skilled little actress, Rachel puts on her most convincing look of disinterest and boredom.

“All right, kids, step back please,” James says, clearing a small opening so he can reach the cake. He pulls out a matchbook from his pocket and he and Rose start to light the candles. It takes four matches and over a minute for the pair of them to get all twelve lit. Red, blue, yellow and pink wax melt into unappetizing puddles on the frosting, and Rose encourages everyone to hurry and start the birthday song while there are still candles left.

Chloe grins and starts waving her hands like the conductor of some grand orchestra, and Maxine and the other kids all start to sing.

------------------------------ 

Rachel the Pirate Queen is on a very important mission, entrusted by Captain Bluebeard herself. She only has a few minutes to return to their trusty ship, the Bane of Arcadia, before the tides change and it becomes impossible to reach the island tonight. If they don’t, it will be too late to reclaim their stolen treasure, and worse, their amulet will be in the hands of the enemy!

The most practical way to access the island is by swimming through a dark, treacherous underwater cave. But the entrance is always under heavy surveillance by evil mermaid guardians.  

And Rachel has a bunch of old mermaid dolls that would be totally perfect for their game.

The newly turned twelve year old leaps up the stairs two at a time and bursts into her bedroom, immediately opening her closet and tearing its contents apart. Rose will probably get mad at her later for making a mess, but she can deal with that when the time comes. Right now she has to find those mermaids. After going through the closet without any luck, Rachel starts to rummage through dresser drawers and bookshelves.

That’s when her phone rings.

Breaking into a huge smile, Rachel immediately drops what she’s doing and grabs her phone from her bed, flipping it open and hitting the “answer” button without looking at the caller ID. There’s only one person who could possibly be phoning her right now, and Rachel’s been waiting for this call the entire day.

“Hi Mom!”

“Happy birthday, Baby. I love you so much.”

“Love you too!” Rachel takes a seat on the edge of her mattress and cradles the phone to her ear. “Mom, where are you? You’re gonna miss the cake and presents!”

“Dawn, listen-”

“Wait ‘til you see the cake! Rose got me the special kind, you know, where there’s the bottom cake and then a smaller one stacked on top? It’s chocolate with chocolate frosting, and the frosting is really, really shiny, like the kind we had for my birthday last year. From that place near the mall that you and me went to! Remember?”

“Dark chocolate cupcakes. I remember.”

“The outside is covered in rainbow sprinkles and it’s so pretty. Mom, some of the sprinkles are tiny silver stars!”

“It sounds beautiful. Eat an extra slice for me, okay?”

“Chloe and Maxine are sleeping over tonight, but tomorrow we can-” Rachel halts mid-sentence as the implications of her mother’s choice of words hit her, and all of a sudden there’s a strange sort of heaviness in the pit of her stomach. “You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

“My boss called me late last night. Baby, there was a big mix-up involving some of the orders at work and he needed me to come in today to help straighten things out.”

“But you already took the week off. You told me that he said it was okay.”

“I know, Dawn. But I was the one in charge of those orders. They can’t fix the problem without me.”

“You’re almost done, though, right? You can take a later flight, and I can save you a piece of cake, and… and it’s okay even if it’s really late! I’ll stay up until you get here!”

“We’re trying to sort everything out as fast as we can, but things aren’t looking good.”

There’s a long pause of silence before Rachel speaks again. When she does, her tone is flat. “So you’re not coming.” It’s not a question. She already knows the answer.

“I’m so, so sorry. I want to be there with you more than anything. You know that, right?”

The longer Sera talks, the less Rachel hears. Her heart thumps in her ears. Her grip tightens around her phone. Her shoulders start to tremble, but not from the cold. In fact, her skin is still warm to the touch from spending most of the afternoon in the sun. “But it’s my birthday!” Rachel growls, voice strained and a pitch higher than normal.  

“I might be able to come up next week instead. I promise we’ll celebrate then.”

“NO!” Rachel is feeling a mixture of emotions, hurt and disappointment at the top of the list, but it manifests as anger and she explodes at Sera through the phone. “It’s not fair! You promised you’d come today!”

“Rachel, please. Believe me, I wish-“

“You’re a liar!” Rachel spits, the words spilling out as rage takes control of her mouth. “Forget it! I don’t care! This… this is BULLSHIT!”

Before Sera can say anything else, or scold her for throwing in a swear, Rachel snaps her phone shut.

------------------------------

The “Happy Birthday” song is a big, fat lie. Rachel isn’t happy at all.

About halfway through the song, she reaches her limit and she’s over it. Over everything. Everybody. Over this whole stupid party. Rachel tries to hold back her anger, tries to just keep her eyes on the cake and block out everything else, but she can still see everybody’s stupid smiling faces in her peripheral vision.

And she can’t take it.

Standing so abruptly and forcefully that it sends her chair skidding backwards several inches, Rachel grabs the platter underneath her cake and lifts it up as high as she can. The cake is heavier than it looks, so she struggles to hold it any higher than eye-level, but this is more than enough to cause her party guests to stop singing and watch her in confusion.

Having about a decade’s worth of experience dealing with her stepdaughter’s fiery temper and subsequent outbursts, Rose is the first to realize what’s about to happen. Her arms shoot out towards the cake instinctively. “Rachel, don’t-“

But the warning is a little too late, and Rose is pretty sure that it would have been futile regardless.

To everyone’s horror, Rachel smashes the cake down onto the tabletop. The top layer is knocked askew, cracking into two chunks, and the motion alone puts out all but three of the candles. A few of her friends gasp, but then shocked silence spreads through the room. Rachel can tell without even looking that everyone’s staring at her.

In the next second, Rachel bolts from the scene, pushing past several classmates in her haste and roughly bumping into somebody with her shoulder. She doesn’t stop to see who it is. Right now she doesn’t care. She disappears upstairs and slams her bedroom door behind her. James calls his daughter’s name and makes a move to go after her, but Rose stops him.

“No, James. Let her be.” Rose is all too familiar with Rachel’s tantrums and knows that there’s no point in trying to talk to her until she’s had time to cool down. “Right now I could use your help.”

While Rose and James decide what to do about the birthday cake situation, the rest of the room falls into chaos. The kids all start talking at once, some asking what’s wrong with Rachel… some wondering if there’s still going to be cake… but most expressing their utter astonishment at the cake incident.

“Hey! Maxine’s bleeding!”

The announcement is loud enough to be heard over all the clamor. Rose whips her head around at the mention of blood and spots Chloe fussing over Maxine, who’s in tears and has her hands over her nose and mouth.

Rose hurries over and sits her in one of the chairs. “Oh, Maxine, she ran into you, didn’t she? Let me take a look.” Carefully taking Maxine’s hands away from her face, Rose is met with the unpleasant sight of dark red blood trailing slowly trailing down the girl’s mouth and chin. “James, grab me some Kleenex, would you?”

“I’ll get it!” yells Chloe, jumping up. She quickly retrieves the box of tissues that she remembers seeing in the living room earlier.

Rose thanks Chloe, then grabs a handful of tissues and holds them against Maxine’s nose. Maxine pulls back slightly, crying out in pain, so Rose adjusts hold to one that’s more gentle. “Sorry, sweetheart. I know it hurts.”

Chloe stands by her best friend’s side and holds her hand. “Don’t worry, I promise it’s not that bad.”

After a minute, Rose removes the tissues and inspects the damage. The bleeding already seems to be stopping. “Chloe’s right. There’s not too much blood left. You’re going to be fine.” Behind her, James finishes inspecting the confectionery carnage and reports that the serving platter is still intact and the cake should still be safe to eat. Rose plucks some fresh tissues from the box. “Thank goodness. Here, Maxine, take these and I’ll check back on you in a bit, okay?” The woman runs off to wash her hands, then joins her husband in slicing up the cake for anybody who still wants some.

“Does it hurt?” asks Chloe, worried about her friend.

Maxine, still holding tissues to her nose, nods slightly. “Kind of.”

“Something’s wrong. There’s no way Rachel would hurt you on purpose.”

“I know,” says Maxine. “I think something really bad happened after she went inside.”

“Do you think she got into a fight or something?” Chloe wonders. She lowers her voice so only Maxine can hear. “Or maybe she got in trouble. Do you think Rose found out about the-“

“Think I found out about what, now?” Rose suddenly reappears from behind, startling the girls. Chloe shakes her head and starts to stutter, but Rose chuckles. “It’s all right, I won’t ask. How’s your nose doing, Maxine?”

Maxine slowly removes the tissues from her nose and waits a moment. She gives a tiny, careful sniff, but it doesn’t feel like there’s any more blood. “I think it stopped.”

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and clean up?” Rose hands Maxine a t-shirt that the girls recognize as one of Rachel’s. “When you’re done, give me your shirt. I’ll try to get those stains out.”

Looking down at her own shirt, Maxine sees the reddish-brown splotches that have already started to dry and set into the fabric. Her stomach churns at the sight and she gratefully accepts the change of clothes. In the downstairs bathroom, Maxine rinses herself off and gets changed. She comes back out blood-free and looking as good as new. She hands Rose her soiled top with a shy thank you.

“No problem, dear,” says Rose, taking the shirt. “Girls, could you go upstairs and see how Rachel’s doing? I don’t think she’ll want to talk to me or her father just yet, but she might appreciate having you two there with her.”

Chloe and Maxine nod. Even if Rose hadn’t asked them, checking up on their friend was already next on their list of things to do.

“What happened?” asks Chloe.

“Do you girls remember Sera, her mother? Sera was supposed to be at the party today, but she ended up not being able to come. Rachel’s… understandably upset.” Rose gives a sad smile. “Anyway, you girls go on ahead. I’ll be up in a bit to check on her.”

Chloe and Maxine climb up to the second floor and stop in front of Rachel’s room. Chloe knocks, then opens the door a few inches and sticks her head inside. Rachel is lying on the bed facing the opposite wall. “Rachel?” Chloe pauses for an answer but she doesn’t get one. “It’s just me and Maxine. We’re coming in.”

Walking into the room, Chloe glances around. The closet looks overturned and Rachel’s belongings are strewn all over the floor. A few drawers are open, their contents messily tossed about as well. “Hey, are you okay?” When Chloe is once again met with silence, she turns to Maxine only to find her still in the hallway, clinging to the door frame. Chloe gestures for Maxine to hurry up and come inside. After a moment of hesitation, Maxine runs on her tiptoes to catch up to Chloe, who climbs onto the bed next to Rachel. Maxine perches lightly on the very edge of the mattress.  

“Rose told us about your mom,” Chloe says. “That hella sucks…”

Silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

More silence.

Rachel still hasn’t moved, nor given any indication that she’s even aware of Chloe and Maxine’s presence. So Chloe makes herself comfortable and motions for Maxine to do the same. “Well, it’s okay if you don’t. We’ll stay here to keep you company. Right, Maxine?”

Maxine finds her voice. “Yeah, it’s not a party without you.”

“Rach, you should’ve seen Maxine earlier. You clocked her in the face good and her nose was, like, gushing blood-”

“Chloe!” Maxine swats her friend on the arm.

To their surprise, Rachel rolls over, pushing herself into a sitting position.

And she speaks!

“Oh my god, really?”

Chloe and Maxine and relieved to hear Rachel’s voice again, even if it sounds tired and scratchy. They take a good look at their friend’s face for the first time since before the cake catastrophe. Although Rachel’s eyes are dry now, there are shiny tear streaks down her cheeks and it’s obvious that she had been crying.  

Maxine’s tone goes soft. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Sorry. I totally didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay!” Maxine gives Rachel a small smile. “We’re, um… more worried about you.”

“Oh.”

“If you wanna tell us what happened, we’re here to listen,” Chloe repeats.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Rachel sighs, scooting backwards until she’s against her headboard. Chloe and Maxine are watching her intently, waiting for her to talk. Normally, Rachel loves being the center of attention, but this is a sensitive topic and her friends’ gazes are making her uncomfortable. Keeping her eyes down, Rachel hugs her knees to her chest in attempt to feel less vulnerable. “My mom called.”

As soon as Rachel mentions her mother, her voice breaks and her tears start anew. Chloe moves right beside her and puts an arm around her shoulders. Even Maxine ventures to a new spot on the bed closer to her friends. Neither of them speak. They just let Rachel vent.

“She said she’s too busy to come to my party... even though she promised!” Rachel’s voice is thick with emotion. “It’s not fair! Why did Dad have to make us move so far away? I hate it here! Now I never get to see her!”

“But she still texts you, like, every day, right?” Chloe tries to cheer Rachel up. “That’s pretty cool.”

“And you talk to her on the phone,” Maxine adds.

But Rachel snuffles and shakes her head, letting out a quivery, shuddery sob. “It’s not the same!”

There’s a knock on the door, and all three girls turn to see Rose standing in the doorway. “Rachel, honey, can I come in?” Taking her stepdaughter’s lack of a response as a yes, Rose walks around to the other side of the bed and takes a seat. “I know you’re disappointed. Your father and I were looking forward to seeing Sera today too. It’s completely normal to feel sad.”

“I’m not sad!” Rachel glares in Rose’s direction. “I’m mad! She cares about work more than me!”

“Oh, Rachel, you know that’s not true.”

Rachel scoffs. “Well, she’s not here, is she?”

“Honey, come here,” Rose says gently, opening her arms towards Rachel. The girl tries to keep up her tough front, staring hard at her stepmother for a few moments, but Rose waits patiently, looking at her with eyes full nothing but love. Sure enough, Rachel’s defenses crumble and she surrenders, breaking away from Chloe and falling forward into the embrace. Rose’s hugs are always warm and comforting. Her anger melts away, leaving just the hurt behind.

Rose was right.

She is disappointed.

For as long as Rachel can remember, Sera has always been there on her birthday. She’s been at every birthday party and every special birthday dinner at Rachel’s favorite restaurant. There’s plenty of photographic proof in the photo albums Rose has compiled over the years. Rachel has so many special memories celebrating her birthday with her mom. On her ninth birthday, Sera surprised her by showing up at her theater camp with birthday treats to share with the other campers. When Rachel turned five, she had a really bad cold and wasn’t able to leave the house, but Sera came over with a box of cake mix and a tub of frosting and they made a birthday cake together. She even got to lick the batter off the spoon!

But this was before they moved to Oregon. When the Ambers still lived in California, Sera was only a fifteen minute car ride away. Rachel saw her mom all the time.

And everyone knows that it’s impossible to get from Long Beach to Arcadia Bay in fifteen minutes.

Rachel thinks about her mom and wonders how many more birthdays she might miss now that they’re a thousand miles apart.

Rose was right.

She is sad.

And so Rachel cries for what feels like several minutes, or days, or years, or maybe an eternity. Rose just holds her tightly and rubs soothing patterns onto her back until she gets all her feelings out and has no tears left. There’s still a smidge of sad left, the kind that will only fade with time, but, compared to how miserable she was earlier, the birthday girl is feeling a whole lot better now. Taking a deep breath, Rachel pulls away and looks up at Rose, ready to confess the truth that she’s been keeping inside all day. “I just really, really miss her…”

“I know, I know…” says Rose, brushing the remnants of Rachel’s tears away with her fingers. “And I know she misses you. But she loves you with all her heart. So do I.” Rose leans down and kisses the top of her stepdaughter’s head. “So does Daddy. And Chloe and Maxine.”

Rachel looks over her shoulder at her friends, who nod their heads enthusiastically. Chloe puts her hands over her heart and playfully bats her eyes at her before erupting into laughter. Maxine watches, shaking her head at Chloe’s antics, but then she turns to Rachel and gives her a sweet smile.

Her friends are such dorks. Rachel can’t help but let out a tiny giggle.

“Are you feeling better now?” asks Maxine.

Rachel shrugs. “A little.”

“See, Rachel? Right now there’s a house full of people who care about you and want to celebrate your big day with you,” Rose continues. “What do you say? Will you come back downstairs and join us?”

Chloe clasps her hands together and makes exaggerated puppy dog eyes. “Pleeease?”

“You’re so weird.” Rachel lightly shoves her backwards, laughing. “Fine, let’s go.”

“Yes!” Chloe pumps her fist in the air and runs for the door, calling to her friends to follow. “Come on, slowpokes, let’s see if there’s any cake left!”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming!” Sliding off her bed, Rachel turns to Maxine and holds out a hand. As much as she loves Chloe and her silly antics, Rachel’s really glad that she also has a friend like Maxine. Maxine’s quiet, but not too quiet. Perfect quiet. There’s something about being with her that brings Rachel comfort, and that’s exactly what she needs right now. “Sit next to me, okay?”

Excited to have Rachel back, Maxine happily takes her hand. “Let’s go before Chloe eats it all.”

The girls head downstairs and find Chloe sitting at the kitchen counter, shoveling cake into her mouth. There are two slices already waiting for them, forks, napkins and all. Rachel takes a serving and sits next to Chloe, waving Maxine over to the seat on her other side. But before either of them can take a bite, a couple of Rachel’s classmates burst inside the house, shrieking excitedly at the sight of the birthday girl.

“Rachel! There you are!” exclaims one of the girls. “You have to come outside! We just started a new round of spin the bottle truth or dare and, like, the whole class is playing!”

Maxine furrows her brows in confusion. “Spin the bottle truth or dare?”

“Me and Juliet are gonna try and find out if Justin has a crush on someone,” the other girl says in a teasing tone, eyes sparkling mischievously.  

“Dana!” Cheeks turning a faint shade of pink, Rachel pretends to kick her. This only causes Dana to squeal again. “Not so loud.”

“Leave us alone. We’re trying to eat,” Chloe mumbles through a mouthful of cake. Rachel raises an eyebrow. Her friend suddenly sounds grumpy, but she shrugs it off.

“Chloe, Maxine, you guys have to play too!” Juliet insists. “Come on, just bring your cake with you!”

Rachel is on the fence. While she would very much love to stay in the house and finish her birthday cake, this game does sound kind of interesting. Imagine all the juicy gossip. This might be her chance to find out all sorts of things about her classmates. And, well… Rachel does kind of want to know if there’s somebody Justin likes. She looks to her left. Chloe makes a grossed-out face and signals a thumbs down. She looks to her right. Maxine only gives her a vague sort of smile.

Neither of which are very helpful.

Curling her lips into a pout, Rachel turns back to her cake. “I don’t know.”

Dana tugs on Rachel’s arm. “Come on! It’ll be awesome, I promise!”

“Oh my god, look!”

Suddenly, Juliet’s shouting and pointing at something outside. Rachel looks out the sliding glass doors just in time to catch one of the boys doing a backwards flip into the pool. Fully-clothed. The corners of her mouth curl upwards ever so slightly. This party could still turn out to be fun.

Maybe one little game won’t hurt. Of course, she still has to convince her friends to join her. Maxine won’t be a problem, it’s Chloe who will be more of a challenge. Rachel isn’t really worried, though. All she needs to do is play the birthday card and there’s no way Chloe can say no.

And even if she does, Rachel has a few more tricks up her sleeve.

She is a skilled little actress, after all.