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iosivb9 · 8 days ago

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grocery store receipts (sunghoon)

SUMMARY: your hot neighbor seems to have everything you don’t: charm, confidence, and a sense of direction in life. you’ve managed to keep to yourself in the time you’ve lived across from his apartment but the holiday season brings brings out unresolved feelings, and you find that the best present of all has always been standing right in front of you.

WORD COUNT: 31.5K.

PLAYLIST: I ended up making one for this fic

NOTES: consider this a love letter to sunghoon. this story had three plots before it became what it is right now. I’m not somebody who generally enjoys the holidays but wish I could be, so this is a bit of a diary entry, of sorts. (me to me: it’s really not that serious.)

and thanks to @moonstruck-muses for being the best person I know…I love who I am when I’m with you and I’m so grateful that you ended up tagging along to oomf’s house all those months ago. kinda hilarious that I knew you’d be a jake girl before you did, but I think that sums up the kind of friendship we have. 🩷

WARNINGS: fluff & angst, mentions of poor childhoods and bad parental relationships, a whole lot of Christmas talk, smut in the form of: dry humping, oral (f. receiving), missionary, sunghoon’s kinda obsessed with her chest, multiple orgasms, fingering. unprotected sex, creampie, and typos, probably.

MASTERLIST

****

“Did you bring the sweater?”

Jake holds up a large white paper bag and pulls out the fabric, pushing the decorative detail in your direction. “Boom. You’ll win the ugly sweater competition, no doubt.”

“It’s not a contest.” You take the bag from him and Jake beams at you with that boyish smile he has when he gets excited about something. You feel a bit soft that he’s excited for you. “But thank you for letting me borrow it.”

Heeseung grabs the sweater and holds it up in front of him. “This…is something else. Why do you have it in the first place?”

“It’s got a disco dance floor with breakdancing gingerbread men,” Jake deadpans. “It’s snowing inside the club. Why wouldn’t I buy it?”

Jay laughs. “He saw it at a thrift store last Christmas and bought it on a whim. I don’t think he’s worn it, so it’s good that you’re taking it off his hands.”

“I still want it back even if I have nowhere to wear it to.”

You bump Jake’s hip. “You could always wear it to run errands.”

He makes a face. “I’m not that crazy.”

Heeseung folds the sweater and puts it back in the bag before handing it off to you for safekeeping when all four of you walk deeper into the bar. It’s cold outside. It’s the kind of weather that has you layered up in a scarf and a large peacoat that shields you from the chilly bite of the air. Summer has long passed and spring isn’t for another few months, and the joy you feel from the temperature dropping echoes within the warm bar you find yourself in. The juxtaposition of snowy air met with a warm furnace feels comforting in all of the right ways.

You offer to get a table and hum in appreciation with Jay and Jake volunteer to split the first round. They know your order on a weekday evening—whiskey sour—because you don’t like to go overboard when you have to wake up early the next morning. Heeseung slides into the booth beside you and nudges your shoulder.

“Are you still interested in the Marketing Lead position? I heard Kang Eunji’s transferring to the Tokyo office and that the company is looking to hire internally.”

“Now how would you know that, Lee Heeseung?” He shrugs with an uptick to the corner of his mouth.

“I have my ways.”

“Did you, by any chance, flirt with our floor’s secretary to get this information?”

Heeseung’s cheeks reddens. “It’s not my fault that she’s into me, okay?! I’ve turned her down plenty of times because I don’t do workplace relationships, but I’ll make an exception if that means helping my best friend get promoted.”

“Poor girl. She probably thinks you’re stringing her along.” Heeseung rolls his eyes.

“I’m doing nothing of that sort. I just smiled at her, complimented her dress, and asked if the rumors about Eunji leaving were true.”

“You walk through life getting everything you want handed to you, huh?” Heeseung smiles innocently but the two of you end up sharing a laugh.

“I’m serious, though. I don’t know how much I can help since everybody in the office knows we’re close. They’ll definitely think I bias you over other candidates.”

“Don’t you?”

“Well yeah, but let’s consider there are a few other people whose words matter more than mine.”

“That is awfully nice of you. I’m a little concerned that you might have something up your sleeve but I appreciate you.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a good Christmas.” The boyish smile he wears makes you feel tender but you push against him anyway.

“You’re a little scary when you’re nice to me.”

“What? I can’t be nice to the girl who spilled hot coffee down my shirt the first time we met?”

You mumble. “I’m clumsy.”

“Are we talking about you being an absolute klutz?” Jay puts your drink in front of you. “If so, do you remember the time we were playing tennis in my backyard and you tripped over grass?”

“Okay, okay! I get it. I have terrible coordination and fine motor skills.” You hide your smile behind the glass and thank them for the drink before Jake speaks up.

“You’ll have to send me a picture of you in the sweater. I want to put it up in my fridge, or something. What’s it for anyway?”

“The company Heeseung and I work at hosts spirit month every holiday season,” you explain. “Every Friday is casual dress day, but starting in the first week of November, there’s a holiday theme and I think it’s fun to dress up.”

“I’m surprised at how many people do it,” Heeseung chimes in.

“I’m sure we can find one day that works for you.”

“I’ll only consider dressing up if you can make it look tasteful.”

“Please just dress up once,” you beg. “You can wait until it gets close to Christmas. Besides, you’d look good in some of the categories.”

“What are the themes?” Jay asks.

“Next week is Winter Wonderland and the week after that is Red Day. I’m pretty sure there’s a Pajama Day somewhere.”

“Well, I might show up to the office in sweats.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I wish my job did something fun.” Jake pouts behind his beer. “I’m in a lab all day so even if I wore something festive, it’s covered by a white coat.”

Jay laughs. “You act like being able to wear a white coat is a bad thing.”

“It is when you can’t see break dancing gingerbread men.”

“Have you guys started Christmas shopping?” Heeseung stares at the drink in his hand as if a lightbulb hangs over his head. “All this holiday talk made me realize I haven’t started thinking about what to get my friends and family. I have absolutely no idea what to get you guys.”

“You could get me a free week at your client’s fancy hotel.” Heeseung looks at Jay and deadpans, whereas the younger boy laughs.

“I’d get myself a weekend vacation before I give it to you.” He sighs. “It would be fun if all four of us could go on a vacation away from Seoul, though. No worries, no work, and no responsibilities.”

“The lab’s slowing down and I’ve made a list of people I need to give gifts to.” Jake pulls his phone out and shows everybody the note on his phone, aptly titled ‘CHRISTMAS PRESENTS FOR THE HOMIES.’ You try to see what he’s put beside your name but he pulls his phone away faster than you can read.

Jay looks at you. “I’ll bet you've been prepared since summer.”

“I’m only put together when it comes to the holidays, Jay.”

“Does that mean you have most of your gifts wrapped?”

You nod proudly. “You know me too well.”

“I want to know what you got me.”

“Nope, no guessing.”

“I don’t think you can beat last year’s gift for him,” Jake snickers. “Poor Jay almost had a heart attack when you were able to get his guitar signed by Hisashi Tonomura since you worked with him for a campaign.”

“That was tricky because I didn’t know how to ask for your guitar without tipping you off.”

“I knew you wanting to learn how to play was a bullshit excuse,” Jay says with a laugh. “But looking back at it now, that really was a great gift.”

Heeseung raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Are you getting anything for your cute next door neighbor?” You aren’t tipsy by any means, but the mere mention of the hot guy who lives across the hall from your apartment makes your cheeks feel warm. The guys laugh when you look away from them and you hear their laughter ringing in your ears as you try to maintain your shyness.

“No, Heeseung. It would be weird of me to get a gift for someone I barely know.”

“Maybe you should!” Jake nudges your knee with the tip of his shoe. “You guys could fall in love for all anybody knows.”

You smile weakly. “I’m too scared to talk to him. He’s so…hot.”

Jay snorts. “So you tell us.”

Your neighbor, who you and the guys have dubbed ‘The Stranger,’ moved into your building nearly a year ago. In that time, you haven’t mustered up the courage to say anything to him. You keep it at awkward eye contact when you see him leaving or arriving at the same time and begin daydreaming the minute you lock your door behind you. His dark hair, striking brown eyes, and pouty lips is enough to make him the subject of your waking thoughts.

Your friends seem to overestimate your confidence and encourage you to talk to The Stranger, but your resolve crumbles every time you make eye contact with him. Surely a man like that belongs only in fairy tale books or those cliché romance novels middle-aged women seem to like so much. He’s always impeccably dressed with fitted clothing and a clean face that never seems to have blemishes. He must be well off because you recognize name brands adorning his chiseled body.

His demeanor intimidates you too. The Stranger always stands with his chin parallel to the floor and walks with his shoulder held back as if invisible books were stacked on top of his head. The way he carries himself makes you think he’s confident and it intimidates you because you’re anything but. The Stranger is always polite, acknowledging you if he happens to see you around your shared hallway, but he remains aloof with barely a glance before disappearing. He is every bit tall, dark, and handsome, and you’re a little too unsure of yourself to ever make the first move.

Heeseung, your closest friend since you moved to Seoul, always tells you there’s nothing to fear and that rejection isn’t the end of the world. You try to take his advice but Heeseung is the type of person who never has never had to worry about rejection because people are lining up the doors for him. He’s got a charming personality that almost certainly helped secure his promotion at the company you two work. He’s also got enough charisma and good looks to hook women in. Heeseung doesn’t have to lift a finger to get anybody to pay attention to him. Besides, you’d rather live in this yearning stage of your life than face the awkwardness of seeing him after he rejects you.

(“If he rejects you,” you hear Heeseung’s voice say in the back of your mind.)

It’s the same for Jay and Jake, too. They’re both incredibly handsome and know their way around people, even if they’re a bit shy at times. Jake especially, who has a clear accent in the way he speaks, can easily make friends with anybody at the mere mention of the way he speaks. Jay attracts people left and right because of his chiseled jawline and the fact that he’s musically gifted, and people stay because he’s incredibly compassionate and attentive.

You love your friends because they’re wonderful people who always seem to know how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking before you can tell them. But you’re a little bit envious that the world seems to work out for them without doing too much. You find that your experiences have the opposite outcome and you’ve had your fair share of rejection stories across every aspect of your life. All of your insecurities have been with you from childhood until now, and trying to be the bigger person is becoming harder every single day. It’s probably what keeps you from doing anything but approach the attractive man that lives across from you. The Stranger is simply somebody too beautiful and you aren’t sure if you’re worthy enough to be somebody he can look at.

“He’s hot and single.” Heeseung puts his hand on his chin. “Doesn’t seem like a problem to me.”

“We don’t know that he’s single.”

“I wish I knew what he looked like.” Jake pouts at his beer. “Who doesn’t have an Instagram or social media?”

“You’re one to talk. You barely post on Instagram and every picture you have is outdated. I’m pretty sure the only person who cares enough is Jay.”

The aforementioned speaks next. “Has he ever brought girls home before?”

You shrug. “I don’t think so?”

“There you have it. He’s single, hot, and you should make a move on him! You never know what’ll happen.”

“Can we drop it?” you ask, starting to feel a bit restless where you sit. “It’ll happen if it’s meant to happen.” Jake sits back and tries to hide his sulk, although you know he only wants the best for you so you try not to feel annoyed.

“Are any of you going home for the holidays?” Jay asks to break the silence.

“Probably not,” Heeseung replies. “My family wanted to go somewhere tropical and spending time in the heat doesn’t sound too good to me. I’ll probably see them when they get back and make a weekend out of it.”

“Same here.” Jake finishes off the rest of his beer. “My brother’s coming from Brisbane and my parents are spending it back home, but we agreed to meet up next year since they visited Seoul a few months back. You?”

“Staying here because my extended family will be here for a week or so. I’ve got some family obligations but they told me to take it easy now that I’m living on my own.”

“Sounds like you guys will be bothering each other even more now, huh?”

Jay laughs. “Yeah, I guess so. What about you? Are you going back home this year?”

You look down at your hands. “I don’t know yet. My mom keeps asking if she should expect me to come home but I’ve put off making that decision for a long time. It’s just hard, you know? After dealing with my dad and everything that went down a few years ago…I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.”

Her voice lingers in the back of your head the more you think about it. You don’t talk to her often and leave phone calls with her around two to three times a week. She sends you Instagram reels she thinks are funny and you do your best to laugh at them too. But the reality is that talking to her about the holidays reminds you of everything you’re running away from.

It’s been four years since you moved for a fresh start after university. Seoul used to be so big and enticing compared to the small fishing town you hail from. The streets smell like delicious savory and sweet goods instead of the raw stench of live bait and wet creatures. The lights that illuminate the night sky due to the gargantuan billboards make you feel like this city never truly sleeps because the next adventure is at arm’s length. It’s what you’ve craved for so long and now that you have it, going back to your neighborhood is starting to make you feel guilty for achieving one of your dreams and leaving everything behind.

Your friends seem to know what’s running through your head. You’ve been this way every winter since they met you. Heeseung gently nudges your arm with his elbow to pull you out of your thoughts. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? We’ll be here for you.”

“I know. I just feel guilty for not going back home since I moved. It’s a two hour train ride but I can’t bring myself to buy the ticket. It’s so hard to be in a place that brings you bad memories.”

“We’ll keep you company this Christmas,” Jake promises. “We aren’t going anywhere so there’s no reason for you to be alone.”

“Thanks, guys. I’m sorry that I brought the mood down.”

“What else is drinking at bars for if not to lament about the sad shit?” Jake smiles when that pulls a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, you’re right. But if I’m hungover at work tomorrow, it’s your fault.”

***

Despite a difficult conversation that sparked haunting nostalgic memories to resurface at once, you managed to keep your drinking to a minimum and stopped yourself after a single cocktail. Heeseung dropped you off and promised to be back to carpool to work tomorrow, and the last thing you thought about before sleeping was The Stranger.

Your under eye bags aren’t as groggy as they are when you’d drink the night away, but they still feel heavy underneath you. Moisturizer and concealer can only do so much to get rid of the dark circles on your face so you make do and send a silent prayer that you’ll look decent for the entire day. Jake’s ugly sweater hangs perfectly against your dresser and you do your best to style around the atrocious design, but it makes you smile to see such a ridiculous piece of clothing on your body. It reminds you that the holidays are beginning and you try to think about all of the festivities in the area instead of the looming doom of going back to your hometown during this time of year. You take a quick picture of yourself and send it in the group chat, thanking Jake for the impeccably horrible sweater. Once your work bag is packed, Heeseung tells you he’s parked outside of your apartment building.

You step outside and lock your door only to be greeted by The Stranger.

He blinks when he takes note of the dancing gingerbread men and cocks his head trying to make sense of him. The Stranger, on the other hand, is wearing a fitted longsleeve shirt that nearly molds around the muscles of his arm and baggy pants that somehow make him seem taller than you recall. His hands are adorned with silver jewelry and his shoes look like they might be as expensive as your monthly rent. You’re starting to feel the juxtaposition of your outfit compared to his when he looks at you and the design of the fabric feels heavy on your shoulders.

“That is an ugly sweater.” The Stranger widens his eyes and the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink when his words finally register. “I just mean that your sweater is…interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s alright. This sweater is really ugly.”

“Any particular reason as to why you’re wearing it, then?”

“Today’s a holiday spirit day at work,” you explain to him. “Every Friday has a different theme and today just so happens to be Ugly Sweater Day.”

“I hope you get a consolation prize because, wow…that truly is an atrocious piece of clothing.”

The two of you start to make your way towards the elevator, and stand in awkward silence as you wait for it to reach your floor. You see him stealing glances at the design and feel your neck warming up, and start to wish you could take it off. The thought of this outfit being The Stranger's first impression of you makes you feel humiliated, but Heeseung is waiting for you outside and Jake didn’t give it to you just for it to hang in your closet.

The chime alerts you to the doors opening and The Stranger allows you to get in first. You're about to press the button for the lobby when he beats you to it. You settle into an uncomfortable silence, resisting the urge to itch your palms and shift awkwardly to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Everything about him screams opulence, from the way he stands to the way his cologne smells. You aren’t sure that you can name the notes in the scent, but it smells extremely expensive. Even the way he stands makes you feel like you should fix your posture.

“I’m Sunghoon,” says The Stranger. His deep voice echoes in the elevator and your throat feels dry as you tell him your name. “I’ll remember that for when we inevitably run into each other.”

The lobby is fairly empty but you can see the hustle and bustle of city life when you look past the glass walls. Heeseung is sitting in his car, scrolling on his phone when Sunghoon opens the door for you and lets you walk out in front of him. You feel him looking at you and turn around one last time. He takes one more look at the sweater and nods.

“Well, uh, have a good spirit day at work.”

“T-Thanks!”

You don’t wait for his reaction and turn around to walk towards Heeseung’s car that you noticed has been recently washed. He unlocks the doors when he hears you tugging on the handles and looks at the sweater before bursting out into laughter.

“Jesus, that sweater is so fucking ugly.”

“Thanks.”

When you don’t put your seatbelt on, Heeseung turns to see that you’re looking outside of the window. He darts his eyes to see if he can catch a glimpse of your line of sight but comes up empty. You look fresh for this hour of the morning and Heeseung wonders if the smile on your face is because of the upcoming spirit day.

“What are you looking at?”

You whip your head to your friend, who looks at you quizzically. “You will not believe who I talked to this morning.”

“Who? Santa?” Heeseung looks at the photo you sent in the group chat earlier. “Nice selfie, by the way. You look like an elf.”

You swat his shoulder. “No, dummy.”

“Then who did you meet?”

“My neighbor.” Heeseung’s jaw drops and you swat his shoulder again. He winces, but you can’t find it in yourself to care too much and buckle yourself to his passenger seat. “We gotta get to work. Drive and I’ll tell you.”

He grips the wheel and starts the fifteen minute journey. “Did you finally introduce yourself to him?”

“Not quite. We walked out of our apartments at the same time. He said, and I quote, ‘That is an ugly sweater.’”

“I don’t know whether to be happy or sorry for you.”

“I feel stupid because of all the days I had to run into him, it had to be today.” Heeseung’s seat warmers make it all that more enticing to sulk. You tug at the hem and inspect the design, feeling somewhat regretful that you chose to participate in today’s spirit day. “I told him a little bit about why I’m wearing it and he seemed to think it was funny.”

“Does he smell good?” You flick Heeseung’s arm, who laughs in the driver’s seat.

“Shut up. But yeah, he really does.”

“What’s his name?”

“Sunghoon.” Your mouth curves into a smile.

“Sunghoon. Nice name. Sounds fancy.”

“I guess so. He does wear a lot of name brands and high luxury fashion.”

“His name definitely suits him, then.”

To nobody’s surprise, you have the best ugly sweater throughout the office. More people participated than you and Heeseung had originally guessed and the holiday-themed snacks your division manager provided was enough to boost office morale. The weather outside is getting darker earlier and you even feel a bit restless after sitting in your office for a while.

Heeseung watches you from behind your frosted doors as he talks to the floor secretary to order files and copies of his projects, and the sight of you in that horrendous sweater with a smile on your face makes him smile too. You’ve looked like that the entire day, from picking you up and throughout lunch, and Heeseung wonders if could ever convince you to make a move on your neighbor since you talk about him so much. He doesn’t know how much longer he can listen to your fantasies while being extremely shy to strike a conversation with him.

He turns to the group chat he has with Jay and Jake. You’re notably absent from this text thread (as told by the name of the group chat) and they use it to discuss anything deemed ‘guy stuff’ (most infamously when you text “TAKE THIS ELSEWHERE” when they start getting too boyish for your taste).

The Gentlemen’s Club

heeseung: GUYS. She met her neighbor this morning

heeseung: His name is Sunghoon and he saw her with Jake’s ugly sweater

heeseung: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

jake: IS HE CUTE

heeseung: I think so. She was blushing the entire car ride here and could barely say anything until we parked

jake: fuck yea. i trust her taste in men because she thinks byeon wooseok and kim jaeyoung are hot. they’re gonna fall in love guys

jay: If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Jake had one too many cups of coffee

jake: well yes BUT u know me and you know i think they’ll have a meet cute

heeseung: Technically they already had one. Although I don’t if I’d call it a meet cute since he called your sweater ugly to her face

jake: whatever. you know what I mean. we should find out what he looks like

jay: And how are we gonna do that?

jake: idk maybe throw a little get together this weekend

heeseung: That’s a little soon, no?

jake: next weekend then.

jake: I can host at my place. tell her to bring whoever she wants. I need an excuse for a housewarming anyway

jay: You moved in three months ago tho??

jake: it’s time to have one now!!!! I’ll text the group chat with all of us

Heeseung switches to the group chat with you in it.

The Family Unit:

jake: housewarming. my place. next saturday. 6pm. bring food

jay: If you’re throwing the party, why do we need to bring the food

jake: because I am hosting god knows how many people and I cannot afford all of that

heeseung: We can figure this out later

you: Jaeyun, didn’t you move in three months ago ???

jay: THAT’S WHAT I SAID.

jake: we can have an official party now!!!!. bring whoever you want as long as they’re cool

you: Say less!!! I’m there. I’ll bring dessert

jake: 🤤

jay: Can I leave this group chat?

It’s painfully boring for the rest of the day as you all tie up loose ends before 6 PM hits, but you power through it and let your assistant go home for the day. With the weekend looming near after sending a few more emails, you swear you can feel the tension exiting your body. Heeseung knocks on your door and steps inside as you send one last message to a client.

“You should invite Sunghoon.”

“To what?” you ask him, temporarily clouded by end-of-week work stress.

“To Jake’s housewarming, dude. It’s the perfect excuse to talk to him again.” You sit back in your chair and look at him as he sits in front of you.

“I don’t think I have the guts to do that.”

“It’s easy. Knock on his door and tell him there’s gonna be free food and drinks next weekend.”

You scoff. “Easy for you to say. You’re like a magnet. People are drawn to you because you have no problem socializing with people you don’t know.”

“You and I are friends, aren’t we? I must be doing something right.”

“Meeting at work four years ago hardly counts as socializing. It was forced proximity.” Heeseung puts his hand over his heart and pretends to cry.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I like being friends with you and you aren’t as awkward as you think you are. I think Sunghoon, or anyone for that matter, would feel that way too. You just need to put yourself out there.”

You slump back in your desk chair. “I know…It’s hard to push myself to get to know someone, though. It’s like there’s an invisible line I can’t seem to cross and it gets worse when I talk to people I find attractive. He’s like, really hot.”

“You talk to me every day and do just fine.” Expertly, he dodges when you throw a pen at him and laughs when you grunt in dissatisfaction. “What are you so scared of?”

“I don’t know. Looking like an idiot, for one. He’s so beautiful and I don’t feel worthy of him.”

“He’s a man, first of all,” Heeseung deadpans, “so he’s already beneath you.”

“Wow, so you do listen to my I-hate-men rants.”

“Yeah, because I care about you and men suck.”

“You and the guys especially when you won’t leave my apartment.”

“But your apartment is so cozy.” You threaten to throw another pen and smile when he flinches.

“I’m afraid of making things awkward if he doesn’t want to get to know me like that. We’ve acknowledged that we’re neighbors and all, but what if I ask him to come to Jake’s party, he says no, and thinks I’m a weirdo and a creep for asking him that after one conversation?”

“Then he’s a weirdo for being creeped out. Anyone who gets offended by being invited somewhere is weird. You’re a nice person trying to do a nice thing. There’s nothing wrong with making friends.”

Heeseung is right, like he typically always is, and you ponder on his words. Since the first time you saw Sunghoon, you’ve treated him as some fictitious crush that exists only within your head and muse over the small interactions and indulge yourself when thinking about him. Romance seems far fewer in between and you choose to stick to television shows and books that make your heart flutter instead of going on multiple dates just to find out the two of you aren’t compatible.

It feels like an endless cycle of hopelessness at times. You’ll watch your friends fall in love and try to empathize with that kind of unfiltered joy that comes with knowing somebody loves you just as much as you love them, but you fall flat when the reality weighs in. You don’t think you’ve ever fallen in love or have felt anything remotely close to falling for someone so deeply that you lose yourself in it. It’s probably a good thing, but the yearning doesn’t seem to end even though you know it’s for the best.

Pinning all of the qualities you’d want in a boyfriend on the stranger next door seemed like a safe bet because you never thought about the possibility of getting to know him. Sunghoon is someone who is as quiet as a mouse, never making too much noise when he’s in his apartment. He’s a model tenant who always pays his bills on time and never causes a disturbance to the building. Facing the reality that is perceiving him as anything but what your imagination conjured up makes you a little uneasy. You admire from afar but the idea of a hot guy looking in your direction makes you feel somewhat unworthy of their attention.

“I’ll think about it,” is all you offer. Heeseung seems to be pleased at your answer and doesn’t pry any further. “Are you done with work?”

“Yup. I decided everything else could wait until Monday and sent my assistant home.”

“Look at us being good managers.”

“We’re everything we said we would ve and then some.” Heeseung grabs your pea coat from the closet and helps you put it on when you round the corner of your desk one sleeve at a time. “Do you remember Song Bitna?”

“How could I ever forget,” you scoff, retrieving your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “She used to make us run laps and get upset that our work wasn’t completed.”

“She made me go on more personal errands than anything work related. It’s a wonder how I managed to get promoted.”

You push the door to your office open and say goodnight to your remaining coworkers. “There’s a reason why we’re here and she isn’t. It’s good to know we aren’t shitty bosses.”

“I hope so. Sometimes I get in my own head and wonder if I’m managing everything correctly. I want my assistant to learn from me, you know?” Heeseung allows you to step into the elevator before walking in after you.

“Yeah, but you’re good at everything you do. You should have more faith in yourself.” He nudges your shoulder with his own.

“You should take your own advice.” You bite your lip and look down at the floor. “You’ve got a week. Think about it, okay?”

“I will.”

“I was serious about the promotion as well. I’ll put in a good word but you should consider talking to the division lead.”

Classic Heeseung. He looks out for you in more ways than one.

***

The weekend flies by too quickly for your liking and you find yourself at your desk on a Wednesday afternoon with a cup of tea sitting between your hands to warm up your palms. The building’s central heater stopped working a few hours into the workday, leaving you and many other office workers disgruntled and cold. You shut all of your windows and paced around your office to keep your blood circulating throughout your body. The morning was fairly productive until the heating went out and you've spent the last hour replying to emails with cold fingers, pushing any and all thoughts of Sunghoon out of your mind.

You haven’t seen him since last Friday. Sunghoon doesn’t seem to have a routine that he sticks to–one that you can identify, anyway–because you didn’t run into him for the past three days. You waited anxiously by the elevator to see if he would come barreling down the hallway and ask you to hold the door for him, but each day was met with empty silence before stepping into Heeseung’s car.

True to your word, you spent Saturday trying to convince yourself to ask if he’d be interested in coming with you to Jake’s housewarming party. You’d wane from decision to decision, telling yourself there’s nothing inherently wrong with asking somebody if they want to hang out, but the irrational side of your brain convinced you that it would be weird to open up that kind of dialogue with a stranger. You don’t know anything about him and he doesn’t know the first thing about you. But that’s what getting to know someone consists of, doesn’t it?

Before you knew it, Sunday came around and it was starting to get dark outside your window. The urge to curl up into your blankets and spend the rest of the evening watching Netflix was too tempting. The more you watched your TV, the more you stared at your front door. It would take a minute, maybe two at the most, to ask Sunghoon if he’d like to come with you to Jake’s. The worst thing he could do is decline your invitation. He seemed nice enough on Friday when he saw you wearing the ugly sweater and you suppose he’d be nice about letting you down gently. But even so, rejection stings.

Your feet carried you outside of your apartment door to knock on his. You waited with your heartbeat loud in your ears but heard nothing from the other end of the door. When you peeked down at the small gap below you, there weren’t any shadows or anything indicating that Sunghoon was home. Still, you knocked once more for good measure and waited thirty seconds to see if he would open the door. Even though the most logical explanation is that your neighbor wasn’t home, heat crept up your neck and splashed onto your cheeks as you quickly made your way back inside of your apartment. With the twist of the lock behind you, your couch and TV brought some much needed comfort and distraction from feeling embarrassed.

Heeseung hadn’t asked you about Sunghoon on Monday or Tuesday, but seemed to remember when Jake sent a reminder earlier this morning. He swung by your office as the temperature dipped and you updated him on what transpired over the weekend with a defeated sigh. Ever the optimist, Heeseung told you to try again tonight since you might have a better chance at catching Sunghoon during a weeknight.

The day goes by slower than you’d like and when Heeseung drops you off at your apartment, you make a dash for your sanctuary and rid yourself of the day’s grime by spending a long time underneath the hot shower. Work is simultaneously ramping up and slowing down as everyone is trying to complete projects before winter recess and you feel all of the tension leave your body once the hot water soothes over your shoulder blades. It’s still relatively early in the evening when your hair is half dry and you’ve just finished eating dinner. The entire time you wash your dirty dishes, your mind can’t help but wander towards Sunghoon and what Heeseung said earlier about trying to ask him again. Surely he’s in his apartment at this hour on a Wednesday evening.

You decide to bite the bullet. After grabbing the cardigan that rests on the back of your couch, you put it on and decide against changing into your shoes since you’ll be stepping out for just a few minutes. Sunghoon’s door stares back at you as you close your own behind you and this time, you can hear the soft sounds of R&B behind it.

This makes your heart rate pick up speed because the real possibility that you’ll be face to face with Sunghoon becomes too real for you to handle. You could barely utter complete sentences to him last week. What makes you think you could do it now? The same scenarios of rejection and humiliation ruminate in your mind the longer you stand outside. You contemplate going back inside but the thought of telling Heeseung you chickened out and seeing a potentially disappointed expression on his face makes you knock on Sunghoon’s door.

Unlike the last time, you hear the sound of slippers shuffling against a hardwood floor. The lights are on from what you can tell underneath the gap of the door and you start to panic when you see a shadowy figure blocking that light. You assume Sunghoon must be looking through the peephole and resist the urge to fix your hair in case it looks horrible. The door opens momentarily.

“Hey. What’s up?” Sunghoon wears a pair of dark green sweatpants and a large graphic t-shirt that makes him look like the stereotypical boy next door. You look up at him and gulp.

“Sorry to bother you,” you apologize, suddenly feeling a lump growing in the back of your throat.

“You’re not bothering me,” Sunghoon says it with a smile. He opens the door wider. “Do you want to come inside?” You don’t really want to because you’re afraid you might trip and fall on your way inside, but you take up his offer anyway.

“Sure.” It comes out as a squeak.

His apartment is tidy and well kept with artwork adorning the walls in his living room. It’s more spacious than your own and his furniture makes the room look bigger than it probably is, with couches against the wall and a large TV in front of it. There are photographs hung in silver frames and pictures of people you don’t recognize, along with shelves of knick knacks and other small statues you assume are artwork he’s acquired over time. Sunghoon’s living room gives you the impression that he’s somebody who cares about taking care of himself and his space. He sees that you’re particularly drawn to the photo gallery on his wall and you feel him standing next to you.

“I took most of these pictures.”

“Are you a photographer?”

“Not professionally, no. Photography is a hobby of mine.”

“You’re really good.”

“Thank you.” Sunghoon looks at you before averting his gaze back to the photo wall. “My mom gave me my first camera when I was eleven and I took it with me everywhere I went. Are you a photographer too?”

You shake your head. “Oh no, I don’t have an artistic eye like you do. But I appreciate good photos when I see them, or so I’d like to think.” Sunghoon smiles at that.

“I’m glad you think my photographs are worthy of praise. This is the first photo I ever took.” He points to an image of a young girl in the center of the photo gallery, whose short arms are reaching for the camera. She wears an infectious smile on her face that reveals a dimple on the side of her cheek.

“Wow, you were really good even back then. Who is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That’s my younger sister,” Sunghoon says with a fond smile. “I got this camera on my birthday and she wanted to see it after my dad helped me set it up. I think this might be my favorite photo I’ve ever taken.”

“It’s a great shot.” You compliment Sunghoon sincerely and turn your head to look at him. He clears his throat.

“What is it that you came here for?”

“Oh, right!” Sheepishly balancing on both of your feet, you clasp your hands behind your back and lick your lips. “I, um, well…One of my best friends is hosting a housewarming party at his apartment, and I wanted to know if you’d like to come with me.”

Sunghoon points at himself. “Me?” You nod. “I didn’t think we were that close.” You try not to let him see how embarrassed you are.

“Sorry, it’s probably weird that I asked you even though we barely know each other, right?” It seems as though your brain cannot stop you from speaking, a habit you have every time you begin to feel nervous. You start to back away towards his front door. “It’s just that, well, we’ve been neighbors for almost a year and I thought to myself, why not make new friends? My friend told me to invite anybody I wanted to and we have a lot of the same friends, so I knew they’d be there too.” You wince at the sound of your voice. “Anyway, I’m sorry for bothering you and for asking.”

Sunghoon shakes his head and grabs the doorknob before you can. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m honored that you invited me, actually. Living by yourself gets kind of lonely at times. It’s nice to go somewhere that isn’t home for a few hours. I’m a bit of an introvert and would like to make more friends.”

“You don’t seem like an introvert to me,” you blurt out before slapping your palm over your mouth. “I mean, you’re doing just fine with me.”

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“My friend’s a great host and loves meeting new people. You’ll make at least one friend by the time you leave. Even if you don’t, there’s gonna be food there, so you’ll have a free meal out of it.”

“Should I bring anything?”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t come there empty handed if it’s a housewarming.”

“I’m making peppermint brownies,” you tell him. “I’ll say it’s from both of us.”

Sunghoon seems to be satisfied with your answer. “When’s the party?”

“This Saturday at six. We could, uh, go together? If you want to, that is.”

“It makes sense to go together. Do you drive? I can drive us if you don’t.”

“No, I don’t drive.” Your cheeks feel warm at your admission and you don’t know why your inability to operate a car makes you feel a bit bashful. Sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Okay, I’ll drive us. Where does your friend live?”

“Not too far. He’s about twenty minutes from us.”

“I’ll knock on your door around 5:30,” Sunghoon says with a single nod. He reaches around you to open his door for you.

“Sounds good!” Sunghoon smiles and waves before saying goodnight. You watch him as the door closes and rush back into your apartment with your heart hammering in your chest as you sit on your couch and text Heeseung about everything that just transpired. When he asks if you asked for Sunghoon’s number, you slouch. You didn’t think about that and now you’re too embarrassed to back and ask for it.

Three days pass by quicker than you anticipated and your plate of peppermint brownies sits covered in tin foil on your kitchen counter as you wait for Sunghoon to knock on your door. You spent the entirety of the day worrying about the sweet treat and giving yourself enough time to get ready. Perhaps it’s a bit worrisome that you spent a good chunk of time standing in front of your closet to pick an outfit for tonight, but you want to make a good first impression on Sunghoon without the ugly sweater or pajamas you wore when you invited him to Jake’s party.

You settle with flattering jeans and a nice top with an oversized leather jacket and find yourself wondering what kind of lipstick you should put on. It feels silly to worry about these things for a person who likely wouldn’t notice that type of effort, so you settle with something that compliments your skin tone but isn’t too over the top for a casual hang out. It’s just before 5:30 when you hear your doorbell ring and your heart rate perks up at the thought of Sunghoon waiting for you.

“Hey,” you say to Sunghoon pathetically.. Sunghoon’s wearing a light grey quarter zip sweater with a few buttons hanging loose and black trousers. You avoid gawking at him from the threshold of your doorway, but it’s hard not to.

“Long time no see,” he jokes. “Are you ready to head to the party?” His questions bring your eyes back to his face and you smile at him awkwardly.

“Can you hold this for a second?” You hand Sunghoon the bag with Jake’s ugly sweater. “Let me get the brownies.” You barely register that Sunghoon’s holding a bag of his own until you walk back with the dessert, successfully locking your door without dropping your keys. “What's in the bag?”

Sunghoon looks at you sheepishly. “I went out and bought some wine because I’d feel bad taking credit for your brownies when I didn’t help make them. There’s some soju in there too because I started to overthink and wondered if any of your friends drank wine.”

You beam at Sunghoon. How thoughtful of him. “Wine and soju are perfect. The guys will probably drink that up before you get the chance to introduce yourself and I’ll happily drink the wine. My friend Jay might, too.”

“I’m excited to meet your friends,” Sunghoon says as the two of you walk side by side towards the elevator. He presses the button and lets you walk inside the contraption first. “It’s been a while since I got the chance to meet new people.”

“If they make you uncomfortable or anything, let me know and we can leave.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you like them, then so do I.”

“That doesn’t seem very introverted of you.” He smiles at you and shrugs.

“I’m trying to get out of my shell.” Sunghoon lets you step out of the elevator and guides you to his car. “I keep to myself most of the time but I have my moments. It’s easy to get lost in a city as busy as Seoul but sometimes it gets a bit lonely.”

He unlocks the door and puts the sweater in the backseat, along with the brownie tray on the floor for extra stability. You watch him open the passenger door for you and smile as you climb inside. Even the interior of his car is orderly and pristine. Sunghoon has you typing in Jake’s address before the two of you hit the road.

Sunghoon drives like an expert, weaving between lanes without causing collisions or disturbance to the traffic. He uses his turn signals, which you appreciate, and doesn’t get too angry when people cut him off unnecessarily. He looks a bit too good from where you’re sitting with his jawline looking sharper than the edge of a knife with the glow from headlights shining across his face. It’s a bit unfair how beautiful Sunghoon looks from where you are and you’re having a hard time believing someone as handsome as him is talking to someone as awkward as you.

“Are you from Seoul?” you ask him in the midst of the silence. His music hums in the background and pairs well with the smooth sound of his car’s engine.

“No, I’m not.” Sunghoon spares you a glance. “I’m from a small suburb just outside of Busan.”

“Do you miss it?” His smile falters and you almost regret asking.

“Sometimes, but I think I’ve found my footing here. I love the city life and I like that everything is so different and loud. There are a million ways to live your life and nobody expects you to follow a certain path.”

“Yeah, I agree with that. I’m from a small fishing town a few hours away from here where everyone comes from a long line of farmers and fisherman. It’s hard to carry that burden and expectation when fishing is the last thing you want to do with your life.”

“People have a crazy way of making you feel indebted, don’t you think?”

You nod. “Agreed. Sometimes I feel guilty for enjoying my time in Seoul. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, theoretically. Everyone back home used to tell me about the amount of bills I’d have to pay and how dangerous big cities are, but I’ve found a home here that I never felt back in my neighborhood. It’s like nobody knows who I am and I find comfort in that.”

“I feel the same way. I can be whoever I want to be without people telling me it’s wrong. I don’t have to live my life by another person’s expectation and there are so many different things I could be doing with myself. How long have you been in Seoul? Have you visited your hometown at all?”

“I’ve been here for eight years, if we count my university days, but I’ve been living here full time for four years. I went back home for a few months after graduating before getting the job I have now.” You play with your fingers as you speak, the feeling of guilt bubbling to the surface. “As for going home, well, I’ve been back but it’s hard to find the time with my job.”

“I understand that. I haven’t been home in a while either. I don’t really want to go back either.” You want to ask him why but don’t.

“Does your younger sister still live there?”

“She’s still back home and lives with our parents while he’s finishing up university in Busan, actually.”

“Oh, that’s cool! It’s nice of your parents to let her stay at home while she studies.” Sunghoon smiles in a way you can’t decipher.

“Yeah, really nice.”

Sunghoon parks right in front of Jake’s apartment just when you’re starting to regret bringing up his family. You risk looking over at him and an apology sits on your tongue because it seems like a sore subject for him based on the short response, but Sunghoon exits the car and grabs the alcohol and the bag that contains the ugly sweater. You carry the brownies and feel a bit self conscious when you feel him walking behind you. Your shoes feel heavy around your feet and despite having been over to Jake’s apartment more times than you can count on both hands, you second guess every step you take on the way to his front door.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Sunghoon tells you after a beat of silence as you approach Jake's front door. You want to say something, but the door opening interferes with your thoughts.

“Hey, you made it!” Jake ushers the two of you inside and by force of habit, you take off your shoes and out on the designated slippers you purposely left here when he first moved in. “Did you bring the sweater?”

“The fact that you want to keep that ugly thing concerns me.” Heeseung gives you a hug and grabs the brownies from your hands as you struggle to take your coat off. “I’ll put this in the kitchen.”

“Sunghoon has the sweater.” When you’re settled, you grab the paper bag and hand it to Jake. The warmth of his apartment feels comforting until you remember that your neighbor is a complete stranger in a new environment. You turn around to see him balancing awkwardly with a bag of alcohol behind his back. “Everyone, this is Sunghoon. Sunghoon, this is…everyone.”

“Hey,” he says awkwardly, bringing his hand up to wave at your friends who’ve all gathered around to see the newcomer. Heeseung comes back after he’s put the dessert in the kitchen. The bottles in Sunghoon’s hands ring against one another, which makes Jake’s ears perk up.

“Did you bring something?”

“Wine and soju. She told me not to bring anything but I didn’t want to show up empty handed.”

“I told him we could bring brownies together.” Jake makes a face at you and grabs the bag of alcohol from Sunghoon’s hands, pulling him further into the apartment.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” He turns back to you. “The thought that you could’ve deprived us of alcohol is insane, actually.”

You purse your lips and fold your arms in front of your chest. “He could’ve brought everyone ear muffs, for all you know. What are you gonna do with them if your big ass ears can barely handle your headphones?”

“Ignore them,” Heeseung says to Sunghoon as he approaches the two of you. “They fight like siblings. I’m Heeseung.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m starting to think you guys are either really close or secretly hate each other.”

“I hate Jake and love everybody else.” Jake bumps your hip and smiles at you, and you find that you can’t keep up that faux attitude for very long. He pulls you into a hug before properly introducing himself to Sunghoon and walks to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine and store the rest in his refrigerator.

“Do you want a drink or some food? We have a little pot luck going on.”

“I could use a drink.”

Heeseung beckons Sunghoon towards the kitchen while Jay steps beside you, and your neighbor turns back to look at you before disappearing around the corner. “See? It’s not so scary once you take the first step.”

“Your face was chiseled by God. You of all people don’t have to worry about rejection.”

Jay laughs at that. “Still, though. You’ve been talking about Sunghoon for so long that I was getting worried he might’ve been a figment of your imagination.”

“I might be delusional, but I’m not crazy.”

“We all have our ways to cope.” You bump your shoulder with his. “You should know we’re all rooting for you and Sunghoon.”

“Oh my God, it’s not like I pictured myself marrying him!” You whisper-yell loud enough for him to hear through gritted teeth and smack his bicep. “I just think he’s cute. The thought of being rejected by him scares the shit out of me.”

“He’s just a guy?”

“A beautiful, charming guy.”

“Again, just a guy.”

It’s his turn to make you laugh. “You always keep me grounded, Jongseong.”

“Who else will? But anyway, you should also know that Jake decided to host this housewarming party because Heeseung told us you ran into him on your way to work.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or weirded out by that.”

“It’s Jake we’re talking about. He has his ways of showing it, but he’s a sentimental guy.”

“I guess I should thank him if tonight goes well.”

“Don’t stress about anything too much.” Jay starts to walk towards the kitchen and beckons for you to follow him. “Let’s get you a drink.”

You spot Sunghoon first, who leans against Jake’s counter while he looks at all of the food your friends brought (Chick-Fil-A catering, because he’s been craving it and Heeseung offered to pay for half of it). There’s an impressive selection of alcohol beside the large platter of breaded chicken, and macaroni and cheese that smells like it’s just been pulled out of the oven. Sunghoon seems entertained enough with Jake fixing him a plate and opening a bottle of beer for him. You stand beside Jay and feel a bit silly worrying over whether or not your guest feels comfortable with your group of friends, but he seems to be doing okay because he isn’t searching for you.

“How do you guys know each other?”

“This one spilled coffee on me when we first met.” Heeseung laughs at the memory and the tips of his ears turn a deep shade of red. He’s talkative when he has enough alcohol in his system and the nostalgia makes you curl into yourself as Jay hands you a bottle of beer. Everyone looks at you when Heeseung points in your direction.

“She’s really fucking clumsy.”

“Thanks for the commentary, Jake,” you say sarcastically.

“We work together at a marketing agency and started around the same time,” Heeseung explains further. “She just moved to the city and we clicked on our first day.”

“I met the other two through Heeseung, actually.” Sunghoon looks between Jay and Jake when you gesture, who each seem like they’ve also started drinking before you arrived.

“We’re friends from college and we all decided to stay around the area after graduating.” Jay pours himself a glass of wine and you can see Sunghoon beginning to perk up when he notices. You find that kind of cute.

“Heeseung’s the reason we’re all friends.” Jake pats his friend on the back. “It’s funny though because we actually all met her at his housewarming all those years ago too.”

“Huh,” says Sunghoon. “What a coincidence. Sounds like you guys have a thing for housewarming parties.”

“I’ll take up any excuse to host. It’s how we get her to come out of her shell.” Your cheeks warm up but you aren’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol or because everyone’s looking at you again.

“She’s a bit of an introvert, but she’s really fun when you get to know her. Sorta like a diamond in the rough type of thing.”

“Okay, wow! We don’t have to talk about me.”

Jake points at a grocery store receipt on his refrigerator and grins. “This is the first time she bought groceries for me when I moved in a few months ago. She’s a bit sentimental and put this on when she came over for the first time. It’s nice, though.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter. Sunghoon smiles at you and those fairytale-like butterflies in the pit of your stomach feel like they’re flying in a metal cage.

“I like that you’re sentimental. You’re a little like me. I decided to come to this party because somebody else gave me the choice to be social.”

“Yeah.” You’re a bit breathless and you’re sure Jay’s grinning beside you. “I get a bit intimidated when I do something different or meet new people.”

“Who doesn’t?” You suppose he’s right.

“She’s incredible with gifts, too. Last year, she got me a signed guitar by my favorite musician because they worked on a campaign together.” Jay takes out his phone to show Sunghoon a photo of the autographed instrument.

“So thoughtful,” Sunghoon says absentmindedly. It throws your heart in a loop.

“There is so much more to talk about beyond me,” you say, embarrassed that your friends are doting on you in front of Sunghoon. The attention is a bit too much and you grab another beer on your way out of the kitchen, choosing not to look back at the four boys who all laugh at your exit.

The entire night goes smoother than you could’ve ever hoped for. Your friends leave the weird, overbearing protectiveness in the kitchen when you walk out of it and talk to Sunghoon like he’s their friend too. It still makes you a bit shy when they actively support you in this crush because you aren’t used to this level of care and trust in people. Affection makes you a bit uncomfortable and you wish it didn’t.

Sunghoon seems like he’s enjoying himself as well. You can tell he’s a little buzzed but stopped drinking halfway through the night to sober up by the time he has to drive. Even in your inebriated state, you appreciate his sense of responsibility. He’s rolled the sleeves of his quarter zip up and you try your best not to drool over his toned arms every time he moves his hands when he talks. Sunghoon looks so effortlessly cool when with your friends and it’s almost as if he’s known the three of them for as long as you’ve known them to the point where you’re questioning if he’s truly an introvert or not.

It’s this level of comfort that keeps you in Seoul. Surrounding yourself with people who support you unconditionally feels like a reward after spending your childhood wishing for the friends you have now. It feels like everybody has a place in your life because you’ve done the work to keep people who love you for who you are rather than somebody they assume you to be. It’s nice to let go of the high walls you’ve built around yourself for protection.

Eventually, half of the alcohol is gone and so has all of the food. Jake’s had a bit of influence over your drunken state because as he puts it, he’s the host and needs to make sure everybody is having a good time. You’re not one to blame him though, since you’ve been accepting every shot and drink he’s put in your hand. Jay’s the one who prevents Jake from giving you anything more when he sees the way you’re swaying in your spot on the floor where all of you have formed a circle.

Jake returns from the kitchen after throwing away empty bottles. “Damn, so all of us are staying here for the holidays?”

“I haven’t decided if I’m staying or not, if that counts for anything. My parents are going to be in London but there’s a month and a half until Christmas, so I have some time to decide.”

“Sunghoon, you’ve got to be crazy rich if you can afford to fly to Europe at the last minute.” You’re about to scold your friend but Sunghoon just laughs.

“I suppose I’m a bit privileged like that. I’ve spent every holiday season back home and wanted to try something different this year.”

“What does Christmas in your hometown look like?”

“Really cold. Almost as cold as Seoul when the snow begins to fall. We take Christmas seriously since we’re primarily known as a holiday destination for people who like that kind of stuff. A lot of our publicity revolves around the holidays, so my city is a little bit like a winter wonderland. At least, that’s what they want you to believe.”

“Sounds like the perfect place for you,” Heeseung says as he nods over at you.

“Why’s that?”

“She loves Christmas. She can’t get enough of it and does everything holiday-related as soon as summer ends.”

“Do you like Christmas that much?” Sunghoon asks you with apprehension in his tone.

“You don’t?”

Sunghoon shrugs at your small outburst. “Our whole thing is about Christmas and holiday festivities. It gets a little old when you’re surrounded by it all the time”

“Sounds like a dream.” He smiles at you.

“I’m sure you’d like it there. My parents love the holidays and go all out every year. It’s a bit corny but they’re wholesome people and I know they love their country as much as anyone else.”

“She always knows what’s going on around town if it has anything to do with the holidays,” Jake tells him.

“Oh, really?”

“Did you know there’s gonna be a Christmas market right next to Yonsei? They’re gonna be selling a bunch of baked goods and decorative stuff. I heard their food trucks are really good.”

Jay chimes in. “We should go next weekend.” Jake elbows his ribcage. “Actually, you two should go together.”

“Us?” Sunghoon points between him and yourself.

“Yeah, why not?” Jake shrugs like it’s the most obvious answer. “She’s a huge fan of the holidays and you’ve never experienced it here. Why not see what Christmas in Seoul looks like?”

“I’m not big on those kinds of things.” Your heart plummets and you don’t really know why. You put a smile on your face anyway.

“You don’t have to do anything, Sunghoon. I don’t mind doing these things alone and you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

There is an indescribable look on Sunghoon’s face when you finish speaking and the living room is completely silent. He peeks at you through his long eyelashes and it feels as if he’s inspecting you from where he sits. Neither of your friends say anything either and you’re one second from awkwardly laughing when you realize nobody’s saying anything until Sunghoon speaks up again.

“I’ll go with you.”

“You really don’t have to.”

He cocks his head to the side. “It sounds like you’re really excited about it. I might be tired of Christmas but maybe you can change my mind.”

His words fly right over your head and Heeseung can see it in the way you beam at the mention of Sunghoon’s proposal. Even he hears the absurdity of it all when he looks at Sunghoon, who doesn’t spare anybody else a glance. You try to contain your excitement and keep smiling to a minimum, but you feel your cheeks harden anyway and Sunghoon smiles right back at you.

“We could go tomorrow!”

“You’ve had quite a bit to drink,” Heeseung reminds you. “Maybe next weekend?”

“You, of all people, should know that I don’t get hangovers. I'm too excited just thinking about it.”

“We can go tomorrow if you’re not too tired. I can check in with you when I wake up. How does 10 AM sound?”

You sigh, content. “Perfect.”

When the conversation starts to die down naturally, everybody seems to be under the impression that it’s time to go. You say goodbye to your friends and thank Jake for hosting the party, choosing not to tell him what Jay had revealed to you earlier. Sunghoon seems like he had a great time because as you’re putting your shoes on, you see him exchanging numbers with everybody else. Sunghoon carries the empty tray that was once filled with dessert and tells Jake to keep the rest of the alcohol, no doubt solidifying him as someone he’d want to keep around. The drive back to your apartment feels too long for your liking and your body feels heavy when the two of you arrive at your respective doors.

“Thanks for driving. I promise I don’t usually get this drunk.” You hiccup. “Well, okay, that’s a lie. I only get this drunk when I’m with this specific group of friends.”

“It’s fine. It’s nice to let go every once in a while.”

You look up at him. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” he says with a single, firm nod. “Your friends are really funny. I was kind of worried about it on the way here because I tend to be really quiet when I meet new people for the first time, but it felt like we knew each other already.”

“They knew about you.”

“Did they?”

“Mhm.” You hiccup again. “I told them about my new neighbor a while ago and thought you looked cool, but I’m a little awkward, you know? I don’t really know how to talk to people without someone else acting as a buffer.”

“Could've fooled me. You did just fine.”

“That’s because you saw me in Jake’s ugly fucking sweater.” You make a face at the memory, cheeks heating up at the look on Sunghoon’s face when his eyes roamed from the fabric to your face. “You called me ugly.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I called the sweater ugly. Not you.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” Your question catches Sunghoon off guard, but you’re already fishing for your apartment keys when he looks at you.

“No, I don’t.” You don’t seem to be paying attention to him as you successfully jam your keys into the lock on the second try. He sees a peek inside when you open the door and watches you stumble inside before latching onto the doorknob to balance yourself.

“Thanks for coming with me, Sunghoon. I’m really glad you had fun. I think my friends like you a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They’re a little protective over me and like to make sure any guy I hang out with is cool. You know how it is.” Sunghoon holds the door open for you while you take your shoes off and throw your purse somewhere on your couch before turning around to look at him.

“I mean it, though. Thanks for coming and dealing with me and my friends. We’re a little bit of a handful.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Not in the way you think. It’s nice that you have people in your life that you can be yourself around and it seems like they love you just as much as you love them.”

“I really love my friends. But don’t tell them I said that.” Sunghoon pretends to zip his mouth shut.

“Your secret's safe with me.” You look at him with an unreadable expression, but it gets replaced with a tired smile.

“Sleep well, okay? My friends are your friends.”

“You’re so generous,” he says with a laugh. You take a step forward but retract when the sober part of your brain reminds you that the two of you aren’t likely close enough to give each other a hug goodbye.

“...Do you still want to come to the Christmas market with me tomorrow?”

“I’ll give you one chance to convince me that the holidays are fun, but only if you wake up without a hangover.” He laughs when you give him a mock salute.

“I don’t get hangovers, remember?” You tap the side of your head with your pointer finger. Sunghoon smiles down at you before pulling his phone from the back of his pocket.

“I should probably get your number too.”

“Oh.” He hands it to you and your fingers suddenly feel numb. You manage to type your number and try to think of something cute and quirky to put as your contact, ultimately settling with your name followed by the ‘:)’ symbol. It’s casual but you think it makes you stand out from generic contact names, as Sunghoon seems like the kind of guy who keeps everything straight to business.

“I’ll text you so you have my number too.” You pull out your phone when you see him typing.

Unknown: It’s Sunghoon! :)

You feel like a creep trying to bite back a smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t push yourself if you wake up too tired but promise me you’ll try to get some sleep tonight.”

“I promise. Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

***

You aren’t sure whether you’re pleased or not when you wake up at eight o’clock on the dot with no chance of falling back asleep in sight. You turn to see that your phone is fully charged and force yourself to leave your warm, comfortable bed to prepare yourself for the day. You don’t respond to the text Sunghoon sent last night and don’t know if he’s going to keep up his end of the bargain and go with you to the Christmas market, but you decide to get ready in the event that he was serious about it.

Your friends text you too, both in the group chat and separately. Heeseung, as always, is telling you not to overthink anything and enjoy spending time with your neighbor crush. He tries to be as encouraging as he can but can’t help slipping in a few jokes here and there about how fast you’re growing up (even though you’re only a few months younger than he is). Jay sends you words of encouragement too, but he keeps it straight to the point and tells you to buy him something that you think he’d like if you stumble across anything. Jake, on the other hand, makes far too many inappropriate jokes that you have no choice but to laugh. You feel something akin to a high school crush getting ready for a first date even though this isn’t technically a date.

You’ve managed to pull yourself together and see that the time is half past nine when you check the clock. Sunghoon hasn’t texted you at all today so you take the liberty to let him know you’re awake and hope you don’t come off as pushy or overly eager. But he responds in kind and tells you he’s getting ready and will be knocking on your door soon.

True to his word, Sunghoon stands at your doorstep when it’s 10 AM.

“You look so cozy,” he says.

Never mind that you’re swearing something you deemed cute and casual that pairs well with the low temperature outside along with the snowfall from last night. Sunghoon steps out looking like a model himself with his tailored trousers, a graphic shirt, and a denim jean jacket. He looks like the epitome of every girl’s fantasy of the boy next door once again.

“You look really good.” You say it before you can catch yourself and he laughs.

“You think so?” Your eyes snap up at him as you frantically close your door behind you and lock it.

“Will you be warm enough in that?”

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate your concern.” You frown when he starts to lead you towards the elevator.

“If you say so.” You see a small silver camera peeking out of his pockets. “What’s that?”

He pulls it out for you to see. “It’s a Z155 film camera. I got it before moving to Seoul and wanted to learn how to photograph with this type of camera. Cool, right?”

Your worries dissipate the more you walk through your neighborhood and onto the outdoor market you’ve had bookmarked for weeks. Perhaps it’s the warm coffee amidst the chilly winter that excited you, or the handmade decorations that seem far too inexpensive for what they’re worth, but your face lights up when you walk through the aisles. There are too many vendors for you to look at and the overwhelming feeling perks up in your chest when you see different people trying to attract customers. But you’d argue that’s one of your favorite parts; hearing people talk about why they love the holidays so much brings you a sense of joy and fulfillment you don’t feel elsewhere. Sunghoon is a good sport about it too despite being a bit apprehensive at first. He graciously paid for your coffee and breakfast consisting of a warm butter croissant. It melts on your tongue and you regret not buying a second one.

People always ask you why you love the holidays so much and you tell them it’s because there’s no greater joy than being surrounded by your loved ones into the new year. You’ve always been a fan of winter despite the sun setting earlier than it does in the summer. Doing winter-related things in the appropriate season makes you happy, especially if you manage to drag one of your friends along for the ride. You draw the line at caroling, though. That’s taking it a bit too far.

But the real reason is that Christmastime and the beginning of snowfall always marks a vicious cycle of wishing you could be anywhere but the present. Your childhood was riddled with uncertainties and walking on eggshells around your family and friends, and your household often felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. You were too afraid of making a mistake and chose to retreat within yourself, operating under the assumption that pleasing everybody else was how to protect yourself and your feelings.

Prior to moving to Seoul, the start of the cold season was a reminder that your life wasn’t as picture perfect as you liked to imagine it was. No amount of television shows or fictitious scenarios running through your head before falling asleep would ever negate the neglect and absent feeling of joy in your heart as autumn turned into winter. You used to bide your time by hoping the months would roll past you until the springtime arrived. It always felt humiliating to hear your friends tell you about their vacations and all of the presents they received that year when the most your family could do was keep the lights on. That emptiness in the depths of your heart felt like it was void of feeling anything at all, and the holidays served as a reminder that things wouldn’t get better.

It’s no surprise when Sunghoon turns to you as you both walk through the aisles of jewelry and artwork vendors when he asks you why you love Christmas so much. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to give the rehearsed spiel you reserve for people who don’t know you very well, and instead give him a half-truth.

“This time of year is hard for some people and I used to feel like the world would stop spinning if I didn’t try to be at least a little happy when I moved to Seoul a few years ago. I was all alone for the first time in my entire life and barely knew anybody, and had to come up with my own way of cheering myself up since I spent it alone. I did a bunch of things by myself, like going to holiday markets or ice skating. I didn’t mind the solitude that much.”

“Were you friends with Heeseung and the guys at that time?”

“Barely. Heeseung and I were only coworkers back then but we sat across from each other every day to be friendly. But I didn’t know him as well as I do now and had a few roommates who went back home for a couple of weeks. It was pretty lonely and I hated feeling like I was stuck when I was the one who wanted to move to the big city.”

“I think I understand. Christmas is a reminder of overcoming hardship for your first time living by yourself.”

You nod, a bit relieved that he understands you a little bit. “Kind of, yeah. I didn’t grow up in the happiest household and wanted to do something good for myself since I left my hometown. It feels like a shame if I don’t at least try.”

“I think that’s the most profound thing anybody has ever said to me.”

“I sound like one of those generic books with corny quotes.”

“Can’t be corny if it’s true.”

You smile at him. “I’ve become a lot better about being positive and optimistic since getting to know the guys, too. Hanging out with them during my second year in Seoul made me realize I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was, and even when they all went home to visit their families, I didn’t feel like the world was collapsing around me when I was alone for a few days. It felt nice to trust people and realize that people cared about me the way I wanted them to.”

“They sound like really great friends.”

“They are. I don’t know what I’d do without them, if I’m being totally honest. I think my mom was worried about me for the first year of me living here because I barely talked about meeting anybody. She used to complain that I always talked about work and that I stayed in too much on the weekends. I used to think she was just berating me but I get it now.”

“Sounds like she wanted you to get out and have fun.”

“Yeah. I guess my mom was trying to tell me to get a life without directly telling me. She loves it when I send her pictures of myself outside of my apartment and I fill her in on things I’ve been up to that don't have to do with my career. She’s proud of me in that sense but always reminds me that there’s more to life than my job.”

“You have a great mom, from what I can tell. She has your best interest at heart and I think it’s sweet of her to care about you so much. What about your dad? Do you talk to him at all?”

You look to the ground. “No. He passed away four years ago.”

“Oh.” Sunghoon nods silently and tucks his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be. It happened a long time ago.”

Sunghoon nods from your peripheral vision. “Do you see your mom often? Does she visit you in Seoul?”

You shake your head. “She works at a fish dock and can’t take a lot of time off.”

“I see. Do you visit her, then?”

You’re acutely aware of Sunghoon walking beside you but his footsteps fall deaf to your ears when you think about your mother and picture her throwing nets of fish into baskets to sell to merchants in the same afternoon. She wakes up hours before the sun rises to greet fishermen by the docks as soon as daylight breaks and leaves when the space is clean and the fish is sold. You picture her in rubber overalls and boots, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail with a mask covering the lower half of her face to avoid the scent of the fish even though she tells you she’s used to it by now.

It was hard to deal with her waning hours in your childhood and you often yearned for her presence when you awoke to see no trace of her in your household. You had a knack for differentiating the difference in gait between her and your father, and hearing the heavier steps of his footsteps always made you disappointed. Feeling his presence outside of your bedroom door felt like it was a prison sentence.

In a town that seldom encourages any lifestyle aside from fishing and farming, you always find a bit of solace in creative writing clubs and the school musicals as a way to excuse yourself from the small town life. You’d picture yourself underneath a single spotlight, standing center stage where everybody in the audience regarded you as someone who’d make it far beyond the borders of the isolated town. You imagine them roaring in applause when you took your final bow with your mother sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

But life and finances were immediate priorities to keep the roof over your heads and the table full of food. The electricity bill was renewed solely by your mother’s efforts to keep the three of you afloat whereas your father could barely keep a job for longer than a few months before the inevitable discussion of his unemployment. You recall hearing hushed conversations that always escalated to loud arguments just outside of your bedroom door and shoved headphones into your ears to drown out the sound of an unhappy marriage.

His absence was deafening and there were moments where you preferred a chaotic household over a quiet one. In the mere weeks that followed his death, life seemed to move on for your mother but not for you. She still woke up before dawn and never complained about the cold weather during the winter months or the heavy rainfalls in the summer. Whereas she endured life as if he hadn’t passed, you carried the weight of emotional neglect and dissonance of your relationship with him.

The funeral was a month later and his cremated remains were spread along the larger lake nearby because he always said he would never choose to move away from water. The boat ride to the deepest part of the lake was uncomfortable and frustrating as your mother and two of his closest friends lamented over his passing, barely touching on the hardship he put your family through in his years being alive. It seemed like everyone was able to forgive him and move on as if every single person in his family went unscathed. Listening to them recite their happiest memories with him felt like a knife twisting in your heart until it stopped beating.

Moving away was bittersweet, too. The neighborhood you grew up in never felt like a home to you but it would always be nostalgic. It was a plot of land with four walls and a roof, and yet the memories you’ve made haunt every corner of your street like a ghost that refuses to cross into the light. The grey walls look more dreary and dull than it had before and the large tree that grew on the lawn was cut down after years of neglect. Your old house looked brand new and unrecognizable. Everything had changed too quickly for your liking. Even when you packed your last box in the moving van, the emptiness of your bedroom felt like you were saying goodbye to a part of your life you’d never yearn for again. You’ve never looked back since.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.” Sunghoon brings you out of your temporary stupor.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to get lost in my thoughts.”

He gently knocks his shoulder into yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think talking about even more depressing things is gonna put you in the holiday spirit.”

“Keeping them to yourself just to make other people comfortable won’t put you in the holiday spirit either.” You know he’s right and begin to gnaw at your inner cheek.

“I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“The nice thing about having friends is that you can say whatever you want and they won't judge you.” Sunghoon smiles at you like he means it. His eyes twinkle underneath the sun and, even if for a moment, you feel like he’s right.

“My mom and I are close, even if we don’t talk every single day. She works at a fishing dock and that takes up most of her time, and I work at one of the busiest marketing agencies in Korea, which eats up my week. We find the time to talk to each other and I tell her almost everything. I don’t think there’s a secret of mine she doesn’t know.

“But even so, I love her too much to ever tell her how I’m barely handling everything. It's like I’ve been running into a brick wall every time I try to walk away from grieving. It’s always been the two of us even when he was alive. She raised me the best she could because he was always physically there, but never emotionally present for either of us. His passing left so many questions unanswered and unresolved feelings but it seems like she’s moved on from it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time ago. My dad and I were never that close. There were a few good memories that I think about from time to time, but sometimes they’re ruined by all of the bad things I think about when I think about him. It’s an endless cycle of self sabotaging and I can’t stop myself from doing it. My mom wants me to visit her for a weekend during the holidays and she keeps asking me when I want to come home, but I keep pushing it off because I can’t bring myself to go back to a place that made me unhappy.”

Sunghoon remains quiet beside you. When you take a peek at him, he looks as if he’s deep in thought as he looks ahead at the environment and watches the children play on the nearby playground. His eyebrows are furrowed only slightly and his mouth forms a downward pout, and you’re left wondering what he's thinking about.

Finally, he speaks. “Do you feel guilty for putting it off?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“It’s almost like you know it's the right thing to do but you can’t bring yourself to do it. People teach you that family is everything, but when they force you to act and feel a certain way, it’s like you’re suffocating.”

“It’s like you took the words right out of my mouth. I keep telling her I’d think about it but I always feel guilty because it’s just an excuse to put off making a decision. I’d feel guilty if I don’t go, but I can’t bring myself to make that trip, even if she’s just a few hours away.”

“My parents are a bit similar. They’ve given me more than I could ever ask for, and yet I still feel selfish for wanting to explore myself without them right behind me.”

“I feel like an awful daughter every time I don’t agree to go home. I know she can tell I feel hesitant about it. I don't want to make her worry and I wish this feeling would go away. I can’t face my fears yet.”

“Pardon if this is a difficult question for you, but…Is your father the main reason why you don’t want to go back?”

“Yes.” You answer him meekly, as if telling the truth above a whisper will send you straight to purgatory. “I can’t walk in my neighborhood without hearing the sound of his voice when he yelled at me. Being in my house makes me think of all the times he’d threaten to throw me onto the streets for something as stupid as forgetting to wash the dishes. That place is a carousel of bad memories that I never want to think about ever again.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s normal for me now but it doesn’t make me feel any better if I try to frame it as ordinary. It doesn’t hurt me on most days. I push him out of my mind and focus on the present but the holidays are when I start to think about him and my childhood the most. I’ve never had a peaceful winter. There was always something going on and either Christmas or New Year’s was always ruined.”

“Is that why you love the holidays so much? To override your bad memories and create new ones?”

“Yes. I never want to feel the way that I did before he passed away and having my friends here with me makes me forget about how sad I get when October rolls around. The weather gets colder but I try to do everything I can to think about how much I have to look forward to now that I’ve got so much time to do whatever I want. I learned that I can’t rely on somebody else to make me feel like I have something to live for.”

“That’s admirable of you and I hope you know that.”

“I don’t know if I’d put it that way.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It is, though. It sounds like you had a rough childhood and your mom was spread thin with her job that it left you with someone who couldn’t take care of you. I can hear it in the way you talk. You’ve got this determination inside of you whether you realize it or not.”

“Sometimes I feel like it’s all for nothing. I wake up and live my life but it doesn't feel like I’m getting better.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you to understand the grieving process and work through that. You’ll never know if you don’t stick around to find out, will you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“My parents put a lot of pressure on me to perform well in everything. Bad grades weren’t acceptable and I juggled a few different sports to fill my free time. It always felt like they set me on a path that I needed to follow instead of allowing me to figure out myself on my own. I know they meant well and I know they loved me, but sometimes I wonder if they’d love me knowing that I want something different than their future for me.

“How do you handle it?”

“I don’t.” Sunghoon shrugs nonchalantly and the hard snow underneath his foot crunches loudly as you near the end of the aisleway. “I keep putting it off like you do. I’m here in Seoul because they agreed to let me explore the city for a while until it’s time for me to return and discuss the future they want for me.”

“What do they expect you to do?”

Sunghoon purses his lips. “They want me to take over the family business. My father is adamant that I come home and take it seriously because he’s planning on retiring soon and trusts me to be the person who handles everything. They run a local grocery market chain and love that lifestyle but it’s not for me. I want to be here in Seoul and figure out what my life is supposed to look like without them holding onto the dream that I’ll run the company. They’ve made good money off of it and found success as they’re starting to expand, but I don't want to have any part in it.

“I majored in business and operations when I was in university but hated every second of it. I always felt like I was grinding myself to the bones but I did it to make them happy. I never felt like I got the chance to do anything I wanted to do until they agreed to let me move here.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d run a grocery store chain.”

Sunghoon beams at that. “I don’t think so either. I like to think of myself as pretty creative but I don’t know what to do with that. I didn’t take any photography classes in college and I feel like my time is running up.”

“The beauty of time is that there’s so much of it. You can do anything you want, whenever you want.”

“Thanks. I’ve been taking a few photography classes here and there.” He pulls out the camera from his pocket and lets you look at it. “Lately, this is how I’ve been getting my creative fix. It feels good to do anything other than learning about how grocery stores operate. I couldn’t care less about that and I feel like myself when I’m behind the camera.”

“I like that you’re so passionate about photography, Sunghoon. I can hear how much you love it by how you’re talking about it. It’s nice to hear people talk about their hobbies.”

“He tries to hide a smile but fails, and instead turns the camera on and holds it above his eye. “Can I take a picture of you?”

“Me?”

He pulls it away and grins. “Yes, you. Who else would I be talking to?” You stand beside a large collection of snowglobes and pick one up as Sunghoon points the camera at you again.

“You could’ve been talking to this snowglobe for all I know.”

“Too bad. I want to take a photo of you. Smile for me.”

Reluctantly, you do and see the flash go off before putting the snowglobe down and apologizing to the vendor, who doesn’t seem to be displeased with what transpired in front of her. Sunghoon thanks her too with a short bow before turning his camera off and tucking it back inside of his pocket.

“The fun of film photography is seeing the pictures when they develop. As much as I love learning about lighting and composition, I like it when I don’t think too hard about the photos I take and seeing which ones come out good and which ones don't. It’s always a gamble but it's a safe bet.”

“You’re lucky. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

He cocks his head. “Maybe not in the way you think you do. Your friends were talking my ear off about how cool you are when it comes to your work. Heeseung told me you’re considering applying for a promotion because of your recent campaigns.”

You blush and look away from him. “It’s nothing. I don’t think that’s really creative.”

“You’re amazing, even if you don’t realize it. I think it’s cool that you work so closely with clients and help their vision come to life.” This feels like too kind of a thing for Sunghoon to say after having known you for such a short amount of time, but you can’t deny and say you don’t feel your heart fluttering with every compliment he gives you.

Instead of responding by stuttering over your words, you drag Sunghoon through the remainder of the market and enjoy multiple warm cups of hot cocoa and try all of the desserts they have to offer. You end up buying a few things for your friends to add to their holiday gifts, even though they’ve been sitting in your bedroom for the past few weeks. Sunghoon reluctantly allows you to cover the lunch bill when you bring up how he bought every beverage and dessert the two of you have tried. He sees you signing the back of the receipt after writing today’s date.

“Why do you do that?”

You hold the receipt up. “This?”

“Yeah. Why do you sign it?”

“I like keeping mementos of things. My fridge is covered in different letters, receipts, and artwork from friends and family. I have an entire box of receipts from important moments that I want to remember. I usually have the people I’m with sign them too and go through the receipts when I feel nostalgic.”

“Do you think this moment is worth being nostalgic over?” You blush.

“Yeah, I do.”

Sunghoon blushes too. “I think that’s really cute, actually.” You slide the pen over to him.

“Do you want to sign it?” His signature looks like that of a movie star. Even his penmanship is perfect. “There. Now you can look at this receipt when you miss me.”

“Or I could just knock on your door until you let me in.”

“What says I’ll let you in?”

“Because I’m the best neighbor you will ever have and even though you say you don’t like Christmas, you have to admit that you’re having fun.”

Sunghoon smiles at that. “Yeah, you could definitely say that. I might have to come over to your apartment to see this receipt box of yours.” Sunghoon looks at you with a smile that makes you weak in the knees. It feels like you’re the subject of a reality TV show and you’re waiting for the camera crew to come out of their hiding spots and tell you this is all for show, but that never happens.

“You know where I live,” you say to him coyly, backing away slowly as you throw your trash away. “Knock on my door any time.”

Sunghoon laughs and you think you’d rather die than never hear it again.

***

You don’t get the chance to see Sunghoon during the week because of your work schedule but find yourself texting him whenever you get the chance. Your evenings are for catching up on TV shows that are halfway completed and messaging him even though he lives across the hallway. He hasn’t made an effort to come over to your apartment and neither have you, but you find yourself making plans with him to go ice skating with him during the following weekend and choose to look forward to that instead of letting your insecurities get the better of you.

Heeseung asks you for updates and you can’t help but divulge into the whole truth, including every small thing Sunghoon did or said that made you overthink when he dropped you off at your apartment. He’s attentive and teases you every time you get a bit too shy to tell him how much fun you had with Sunghoon but tells you he’s proud that you’re putting yourself out there and making a new friend. Heeseung tells you that he and your other friends have been texting Sunghoon as well and discovered that they share a lot of common interests, and that they’ve got loose plans to see each other for drinks in the future. It warms your heart to know your friends like Sunghoon enough to include him in things, which makes you feel a little crazy considering he isn’t your boyfriend and you’ve officially known him for about three weeks.

You find yourself standing on ice skates when the weekend approaches and you’re surprised to see that the outdoor rink is empty for a Saturday afternoon. You’re better than the average skater thanks to a childhood interest in figure skating and buying a ticket to the outdoor rink at least once every winter season. Sunghoon tells you he picked it up as a hobby when he was younger but his agility when he glides on the ice tells you he’s better than he claims.

It’s chilly and your gloves protect your hands from the biting chill. Sunghoon’s alabaster skin looks like it’s glowing underneath the bright sun and his sunglasses make him look like the epitome of cool if you were to look it up in the dictionary. He keeps himself skating fairly close to you but you aren’t sure if that’s because he wants to be in your personal bubble or not. Either way, you sweat underneath your clothes and try to focus on balancing yourself on top of the hard ice.

Sunghoon paid for your tickets and skate rentals too. He surprised you by signing his name and today’s date on the receipt for your safekeeping, telling you to keep it in your purse so it doesn’t get lost. He said it like it’s a matter-of-fact and not something only you do because you love being nostalgic about happy memories. Your hands shake as you lace up your skates and Sunghoon patiently waits for you to finish putting on the other shoe before taking up space on the ice. That feels warm.

“I can’t help but like Christmas a little bit more when I’m on the ice.” Sunghoon takes his hands out of his pockets and runs his hand through his hair, and it makes you want to swoon.

“Why’s that?”

“Something about it feels like it should be done only in the wintertime. The Christmas music is helping me feel a little more festive anyway.”

“There used to be a skating rink by my old middle school before it shut down a few years ago. I’d go with my friends as soon as December hit and learn how to skate because the owner saw me beg my parents to let me take lessons, but it was too expensive. She gave them a discount for my first few lessons.”

“Did you stop skating?”

“Yeah. They were able to pay for lessons as I advanced because of a bonus my mom received at work and she chose to spend it on me. My dad never cared that much but attended a few of my lessons here and there when my mom couldn’t drive me.”

“Did you compete?”

“No, it was mostly for fun. I stopped because the financial burden was getting too much. Figure skating is the only thing I regret quitting.”

“I stopped skating because it got in the way of my studies.” Sunghoon purses his lips. “I wasn’t aiming to go pro, or anything. It was a fun hobby I liked to do after school but my parents said it took up too much of my time because my grades weren’t straight A’s.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs. “It’s not like I can’t skate anymore but sometimes it felt like I was being primed to take over their company and I could feel that when I was in high school. Ice skating was my way of trying to tell them that wasn’t the life I wanted, but I don’t think they got the message. I ended up quitting halfway into my sophomore year.”

“Do you miss being on the ice?

“Sometimes. I competed at local competitions and thought about what my life would’ve looked like if I committed to a professional career, but I decided that wasn’t for me. I wanted to do something creative. Anything different than running a grocery chain.”

You bump Sunghoon’s hip. “Sounds like you’ve found your niche in photography.”

“Ah, I hope so. I should show you some of the photos I have that aren’t on my wall.”

“Do you have a website or an Instagram for your pictures?”

“No, but I probably should.”

“You definitely should. I’ll even be your first follower and tell everyone to follow you.”

Sunghoon smiles down at you. “How sweet of you.”

“What happens next? You mentioned that your parents let you come to Seoul for a little while, but what happens after that?”

His shoulders sulk. “Honestly? I don’t know. I moved into this apartment this past January and they said they’d give me a year to do whatever I want before I take over the business. I’m not so sure that I want to go back.”

“Does that mean you have to move?” Sunghoon avoids looking at you.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” The silence permeated for a moment.

“I don’t want to leave, though.” Sunghoon clears his throat and shoves his hands back in his pockets. “I love Seoul and the freedom to do whatever I want. I work at a photography studio part time to pay for myself. I’m lucky that they agreed to pay my rent but that luck’s running out soon because they want me to come back.

“It’s funny, though. My younger sister’s the one who wants to run this company because she’s studying business operations and loves it. She thrives in this environment and has always been interested in networking with people my parents know. I couldn’t care less about any of that. She has fun at his client parties but all I want to do is hide in a corner.”

“Why won’t they let her take over the business, then?”

“My parents want to retire soon. They’ve been at it for so long and people are pressuring them to sell the business because everybody who knows them, knows they want out. My sister’s in her last year of university and isn’t ready to take over just yet. They say she needs more experience even though she’s interning with his division until she graduates.”

“So, what? If you take over, what’s she gonna do?”

“Ideally, she’d be a co-owner the minute she feels ready to do it. But I think the plan for her is to become an assistant and then find another CEO role in another company. My parents don’t really understand that she and I want to switch places because they’re so focused on their retirement. We don’t know how to bargain with them and it’s become a sore point in our relationship.”

“I’m really sorry, Sunghoon.”

“My sister and I talk about this every time we see each other and I can tell she’s upset that they aren’t willing to wait out for her. She knows I don’t want this either, but sometimes it feels like she’s barely there whenever I’m with her.”

“It’s like knowing what you want is right in front of you but out of reach.” Sunghoon agrees in a noncommittal hum and you see him look in front of you at the other skaters.

“I know how much she wants my position and I’d do anything to give it to her. I just need to convince my parents to wait a few years. I don’t mind helping out from time to time like I do now. But I don’t want to become CEO and work in that industry. I want to be a photographer and have my portraits hanging in museums and in people’s living rooms. Is that too much to ask for?”

“No, it’s not. You’re so passionate when you talk about photography and it’s really endearing.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do. It sounds like your sister is passionate about that CEO role as well. I hope the two of you are able to work things out.”

Sunghoon sighs from beside you. “Me too. My lease is up in the new year and I’ll have to start packing if they don’t agree to wait a few more years until she’s ready. They’re afraid of bringing it outside help because they’d rather keep this in the immediate family.” The thought of knowing Sunghoon might no longer live across from you sends you into a temporary panic. You’ve just gotten to know him and it feels a bit unfair. “But I don’t want to move. I’m happy here.”

“Are you?”

He looks at you and smiles. “I am.”

“I hope you’re able to stay,” you tell him, avoiding eye contact. “I think you’re fun to be around.”

“Just fun?” Sunghoon teases, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Not charismatic and devastatingly handsome?”

“No,” you lie, willing the cold air to cool down your warming cheeks. “I would never call you any of those things.”

“Such a shame, Y/N. You have an incredibly hot neighbor who’s willing to do all of these Christmas things with you.” You smack his bicep.

“You’re so annoying.” He laughs.

“You’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

***

The first time Sunghoon saw you was approximately a week after he moved into his apartment. You were wearing blue Bose headphones and looked so determined to unlock your door that Sunghoon chose to keep to himself and not bother you. He couldn’t help but notice the scowl on your face and how it made the perfect pout etch itself onto your lips.

Ever since then, he’s seen you nearly every time he’s stepped out of his apartment and starts to wonder if this is fate telling him that he should make the first move and approach you because you’re friendly enough to nod at him when he passes you throughout the building. But he’s always been an introverted person who falters when it comes to meeting new people. Growing up around investors and adults who didn’t care about anything other than the economy didn’t do great for his confidence, especially since finance and business was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

His sister was always more outgoing than he was. Sunghoon used to stutter when girls talked to him and couldn’t fathom the idea that anybody would be remotely interested in him enough to develop romantic feelings for him. It often felt like his personality mirrored everybody else’s for the fear of disappointing people to the point where Sunghoon had a hard time figuring out who he was when he wasn’t with his family or anybody who knew him as he grew up.

Leaving his home to live in Seoul was something akin to a breath of fresh air. He loved his university days because it was the first and only time that Sunghoon could be himself without being afraid of what others would think of him. He experienced many ‘firsts’ while he was away from home–first college party, hangovers, and having sex for the first time. His first girlfriend made him realize he wanted more to live than to live the predestined plan that his parents set out for him. He didn’t want to marry someone into his family only for him to become a shell of a human being if he took on a job he didn’t want to do. When his girlfriend encouraged him to follow in his father’s footsteps because of how wealthy and successful he could be, Sunghoon broke it off with her and never looked back.

Working for his parents was supposed to be a trial run. For the first three years after he graduated, Sunghoon agreed to come back and work at the company as an entry level assistant and work his way to the top. The weight of their expectations hung over his shoulders every time he stepped foot inside of the tall, intimidating building, and the anxiety he felt never really left him. Sunghoon worked himself to the bone every single day and continued dreaming of a life that was anything but his reality until his parents came to him with the proposition of slowly transitioning into an executive role. Suddenly, it felt like Sunghoon was running out of time and he proposed a year off before he would begin that process.

Now, Sunghoon finds himself walking into your apartment with these lingering thoughts at the forefront because his parents are indirectly pressuring him to move back home. He ignores their calls and voicemails to the best of his ability. Spending time with you and your friends is a welcomed distraction because he doesn’t have to think about his future. The four of you give him space to be whoever he wants to be, and that isn’t something he’s felt in a very long time.

“Your apartment looks like the inside of your brain,” Sunghoon tells you as he looks at your colorful furniture and the artwork decorating your walls. He lingers by the gargantuan posters of different cocktails framed neatly and the bar cart you keep by the kitchen in case you feel like having a drink or two on the weekend. “It’s so…you.

“I worked really hard to make it that way. My Pinterest boards can tell you that much.”

“I like that you’ve incorporated dark green. It’s pretty.”

“Dark green is my favorite color. I’ve always wanted a space that felt like a home rather than a place I live in. I bought this green velvet couch when I got promoted the first time.”

Sunghoon caresses the back of the couch. “Soft. I like it.”

“Do you want a drink, or anything?”

“Are you gonna make me something festive?”

“I subjected you to ice skating and Christmas music that seemed to have four songs on shuffle the entire time. I think I’ll spare you tonight.”

“I’d like to try something new, if you’re up for it.” You light up and Sunghoon thinks he wants to make you look like that more often. He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you wash your hand and bring out every ingredient before turning to face him.

“Have you ever heard of a hot toddy?”

“Can’t say that I have. What is it?”

“It’s an alcoholic drink I used to make with my friends from college when it starts to get cold. It’s whiskey, honey, and lemon dissolved in hot water.”

“I don’t see how that’s festive,” he teases.

“Trust the process, Park Sunghoon. First, boil water in a kettle.”

Sunghoon watches you assemble the drink that is a bit too complicated for him but appreciated the effort you put into it. You tell him about your friends from college and how some of them have moved far away while others are people you see every once in a while. He hears about how you became a crowd pleaser during one particularly cold December night the day before finals and ended up making dozens of hot toddy’s for the people who lived on your dorm floor. You show him a picture of the makeshift tip jar your roommate made you to collect tips from students who wanted to pay you for the drink and went home with enough money to make you forget about finals.

You tell him that your friends love this drink too, even if they downplay just how much. You hand him your phone and let him scroll through pictures you took of Heeseung and Jake the last time you made the drinks for everybody. They were hanging off of each other after begging you to add in a shot more than necessary every time you made a new cup. Jay helped you set a makeshift bed on the couch and floor for them to sleep off the alcohol and Sunghoon laughs at their less than flattering faces when you smile with two thumbs up as they pass out from the alcohol.��

Sunghoon has deduced that being here feels comfortable. It’s crazy to him that the four of you managed to weasel your way into his life as quickly as you did. He finds himself playing video games with the guys when they come home from work and they add him into their group chat within a few days of knowing him. Sunghoon’s always had a difficult time keeping friends around because he feels too awkward to socialize and feels like he never learned how to make friends around his age because of the environment he grew up in. He takes a picture of you on his camera despite your protests when he feels like words are too much.

Getting to know you has felt like the climax of a romance film. He’s spent so much time pining after you from afar, from thinking about what your favorite foods might be to what kind of music you listened to. You always looked so polished and head strong, something Sunghoon wished he could be. He’d lie to himself and say he’s attracted to you because you give off a sense of self-confidence that he’s never seen in anybody else, which is partially true, but spending time with you has only made him fall for you even harder.

He’s only known you for a few weeks but it’s felt like he’s known you for a lifetime. Sunghoon tells you things he’s too afraid to tell other people or admit out loud. You bring out a side of him that wants to make a life for himself instead of listening to people who don’t have his best interests in mind. He loves it when you share your interest in Christmas and winter with him because it feels like he gets to know you better and it takes his mind off of his future. Plus, it helps that you look too cute when you start to get excited about things. Sunghoon can’t bear to be the reason why you would ever cease to feel like that.

The more the two of you sip on the warm alcoholic cocktail, the more Sunghoon feels his shoulders start to relax. Whether it’s because he hasn’t eaten anything in a while or because you’re giving him butterflies, he doesn’t know. He hasn’t told anybody about you because he doesn’t know who he’d tell and he can’t believe he’s standing in your apartment making conversation with you. You laugh at his jokes and give him a tour of your place as he sips on his drink, and the warmth spreads throughout his chest. Suddenly his sweater feels too hot.

You let him inside of your bedroom and it’s neat, with keepsakes lining your shelves and books on your walls. You’ve got a few floating bookshelves he admires and gawks at because he thinks it makes your room look that much cooler. You’ve got a few pictures of yourself, friends, and family along your desk and a makeup vanity with an impressive mirror on it. Everything in your room feels like it has a place and a reason to be there and Sunghoon can’t help but feel privileged that you’re letting him inside, like he’s supposed to be there too.

“Is this your box of receipts?” he asks when he sees a small box without a lid on it. There are dozens of receipts haphazardly lying in there and he takes one out when you nod at him. There’s a receipt for a late night doughnut run, a printed copy of the receipt from the couch in your living room, and your first trip to the doctor. He digs to see if he can find the one from the market. “Where’s the receipt from when we went to the market?”

You point at the board above your desk filled with pictures and other receipts too. Sunghoon looks at it and spots your handwriting and his next to a picture of you as a child. It makes his heart melt a little bit.

“I like to keep really good memories up here.”

Sunghoon feels like he could cry. “I’m really happy you had a fun time. I did too, but I didn’t want to come off as weird and tell you that.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all. If anything, I didn’t want to come off as too eager to hang out with you when we got back home.”

“Is this a good time for me to confess that I wanted to hang out with you instead of parting ways?” You look away from him to hide your smile and he can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat.

“Now you’re just buttering me up,” you say in lieu of an answer. You stand impossibly close to him while he looks at the pictures on the board.

“You were such a cute kid.”

“I was cuter when I wore pigtails and when I was missing my two front teeth, that’s for sure.”

“I think you’re doing fine just now.”

You blush again. “Okay, you’re definitely trying to make me flustered.”

“Is it working?” Sunghoon grins when you hide your face in his arm. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Anyway!” You pull yourself off of him and close the receipt box while he laughs behind you. “That’s enough of that.”

“It’s getting late and I think you put too much whiskey in this.” Sunghoon looks at you with another teasing grin but he’s starting to like catching you off guard like this.

“I’m not listening to anything you say because you said it was just enough.” Even your faux pout is cute. “Thanks for going ice skating with me.”

“Thanks for making this for me.” He holds up his empty cup and you lead him to the kitchen. He offers to wash your dishes for you but you decline and forcibly lead him to the front door when he starts to protest. The exhaustion from today has started to tire him out and his eyes begin to droop when he steps outside.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon. Thank you for today.” You look up at him with an expression he can’t read.

“I had a lot of fun. I mean it. You might change my mind about Christmas after all.”

“There’s nothing I can’t do, Hoonie.” He blushes at the nickname. “Text me when you’re home, okay?”

He snorts. “Sure thing. I’ll be sure to text you in five seconds after I lock my door.”

“Good. Who knows? This is a big hallway. Maybe you’d drip and fall a few steps into your journey.” Sunghoon thinks you’re too cute when you’re coy like this.

“I’ll even text you when I’m tucked in bed so you know I made it safely.”

The last thing he expects you to do is kiss his cheek. He feels your lips on his skin and his entire body becomes frigid, like he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Sunghoon thinks he might trip on his way back to his apartment at this rate.

“Goodnight, Hoonie. Text me when you’re home.”

***

You don’t get the chance to spend any time with Sunghoon for the next couple of weeks because your work leaves you too tired to do anything outside of your apartment since it requires a few hours during your weekends. Sunghoon seems to understand and doesn’t push you to go out with him too much. Part of you wants to invite him over to your place for something casual, but your tendency to overthink prevents you from putting that offer on the table.

Heeseung can tell you’re overwhelmed when he sees you. You hide yourself away in the confines of your office and don’t make conversation with him like you typically would. The start of the holidays mark a tumultuous time for you and he knows that better than anybody else. He can’t help but be a little concerned when you don’t join him for lunch like you typically do if meetings don’t interfere. When he sees you eating at your desk with a pathetic looking sandwich with a single bite taken out of it, he walks into your office without knocking and replaces his lunch with yours.

“Don’t even think about scolding me for coming here unannounced.” Heeseung gestures at your desk. “Eat.”

“You don’t deserve to eat a poorly made sandwich.”

“Oh, and you do?”

You groan. “No. But I was in a rush and forgot to pack a lunch last night.”

“What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“My mom keeps asking me if I’m going to come home and I feel so guilty that I keep dodging it. I know she means well, but that’s what makes it worse. She keeps telling me she wants to have one weekend with me for Christmas, even if it isn’t on the actual holiday because she hasn’t seen me in a while.

“I feel like I’m disappointing her, you know? It’s hard to leave the bubble I’ve created for myself because I know I have to face all of the bullshit I faced with my dad when I go back. It feels like I become the teenage version of myself who couldn’t express her feelings and kept everything bottled up inside. I want to forget all of that. I don’t want to be that kind of person anymore.”

“Do you want to go?”

“I do, but I can’t bring myself to actually buy a train ticket. I want to go home and not feel this contempt but I can’t help it. I hate it there. I hate walking through the hallways because I can hear his footsteps and the way he used to yell at me when I did something wrong. I can’t escape these feelings when winter starts. I mean, you know me. The holidays only became what it is because I try not to think about how fucking awful it used to be.”

“You can’t run from everything forever, though.” Heeseung looks at you like he’s trying to drill his words into your head. “You’ve already done the work to push past it.”

“I know, but it’s hard to be in a place that feels like an empty home. I’m so nostalgic for everything I loved as a kid but it gets tainted when I think about my dad and how hard it was for my mom to raise me by herself. All I can think about is how I felt when I couldn’t do anything to save myself. But on the other hand, I feel so guilty for missing him too. He had his moments and I try to think about that instead of thinking about the bad ones. He’s not here to make me feel like I have to watch my back, but why does it feel like I still have to?”

“You’ve been through a lot and you have to understand that the average person doesn’t go through a lifetime of pain and trauma before they turn twenty-one. It feels like you’re stuck because there aren’t many people who can relate to you.”

You sigh. “I guess so. It feels lonely and isolating. It doesn’t matter how many times I open up to a therapist about it either. It always feels like I’m running so fast that I end up tripping over myself.”

“So, what are you gonna do about it? Sit here and mope or make a decision?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is, though. You’re somebody who hates waiting around for people to save you. The only way to resolve anything is to pick a decision and stick with it until the end. If you regret it, at least you can say you tried.”

“It’s really hard to self sabotage when I’m friends with you.”

Heeseung laughs at that. “I know. I won’t let you do that either.”

“I think I mostly feel bothersome for always talking about the same old problem to you.”

“It doesn’t bother me. I care about you and you clearly need to talk to somebody who knows you inside and out. I’ve seen how difficult it is for you to open up and the fact that you’ve grown so close with Sunghoon in a short amount of time is incredible to me.”

You groan and slump over your desk. “Don’t remind me. I haven’t properly seen him in weeks and feel awful that I have no energy to hang out whenever he asks me to. I hope he doesn’t think I’m ghosting him.”

“He doesn’t.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Heeseung pulls out his phone and lets you glance over his texts with Sunghoon.

“He asked if you were okay a while back and said he was worried since you kept declining to go out. His first thought was that you might’ve been sick or burned out, not that you were ghosting him.”

“Burned out is definitely the right answer.”

Heeseung smiles at his phone. “Hoon was worried that he was coming off too strong by texting you so much. I told him you’d probably appreciate hearing from him more than giving you space.”

“Since when do you call him ‘Hoon’?”

“We’re close like that.”

“That makes me nervous.”

“I’ll be sure to divulge your crush on him while we hang out tonight.” You throw the cap of a pen at his chest. “He said he missed you, though.”

“I miss him.” You groan a little too loudly for your liking. “I haven’t had any energy these last couple of weeks and I’ve been overthinking the hell out of kissing his cheek when I last saw him.”

“Sorry, you did what?!”

“I kissed his cheek when he left my apartment and I can’t tell if I regret it or not.”

“Dude, Sunghoon is clearly not weirded out by that,” Heeseung says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He wouldn’t be checking in with me about your mental state if he thought it was weird.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. You don’t have to do anything crazy with him either. I get the feeling he’s the type of guy who’d appreciate doing anything as long as it’s with people he enjoys being around. He’d probably enjoy it if you two stayed in and watched movies.”

“I can do that.” You pull your phone out and search for his contact. “I could do a movie and takeout.”

“See? There's nothing to be worried about. You’re just stressed out about going home. Take it one day at a time.”

Sunghoon agrees to have a quiet night in when the weekend approaches and you find yourself sitting in his living room instead of your own. He tells you to come over in your pajamas with your worries left at his doorstep and asks you to let him take care of everything, including ordering takeout and paying for it. He tells you he’s up for watching a Christmas movie, but you’ve had your fill and the two of you decide to watch reruns of Community on Netflix as a way to relax through laughter and comedy.

“I’m sorry that you’ve had a rough couple of weeks,” he says as he sits next to you on the couch. He’s encouraged you to put your feet up and sit however you’d like, and crossing your legs feels like a respectable position. He sits at a short distance from you, far enough that you aren’t touching but close enough that you can feel the warmth radiate off of him.

“It’s that time of year. Everybody wants answers but nobody is willing to put in the work. It gets like this every December because everybody’s trying to finish strong before winter break.”

“Still though, the guys made it seem like this was an everyday occurrence for you and seeing you so tired made me worried.” Your heart skips a beat.

“Ah, well…my friends know I can push through anything. Jay’s the one who understands me the most when I get like this. I’ve been getting better at asking for help and they know I’ll come to them if I need to.”

“What about when you don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“Ask for help?”

You turn to look at him. “I guess they force me to open up until I get annoyed and tell them to leave me alone. But that usually doesn’t last very long and I cave in since they never seem to listen to me anyway.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” Sunghoon takes a small handful of the popcorn sitting on the coffee table and shoves it in his mouth. “You have good friends and I can tell they love you.”

“I owe them a lot, if I’m being honest. Sometimes it feels like I don’t do enough for them.”

“You must be a good friend if they care about you that much, too. Don’t sell yourself short.” Sunghoon seems to see you in ways you can barely see yourself and his constant reminders always leave you speechless.

“How’ve you been? How’s your photography class and work?”

“My classes wrapped up last week. It was bittersweet. I love my instructor and I’m sad that he and I are parting ways, but he’s taught me a lot that I’ll definitely remember when I pick up a camera. Work is fine as well, it’s getting a little busy because of the holidays but it’s nothing I can’t manage. They know about the situation with my parents so we’re trying to take it as it comes.”

“Have you resolved that?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Not yet…It feels like they don’t get it at all.”

“I’m really sorry, Hoonie.”

“It is what it is. I’ll miss Seoul a lot for more reasons than one.” He looks at you and your heart skips another beat.

“Living here won’t be the same without running into you, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I’ll cherish those moments forever,” he teases. “I don’t know what I’m going to do but I’m going to try to convince them to hold off on retiring for a few years. I talked to our landlord and managed to negotiate one more month when I told him about what’s happening. I have enough to pay for that and I’m a little shocked that he agreed.”

“Must be a Christmas miracle.” He looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Maybe. Have you decided if you’re going back home or not?”

You pick at your fingers. “I’m still on the fence about it. She called me yesterday and slipped that question in halfway through the conversation. I can tell she’s empathetic about it, though. She knows how hard it is for me to be back home with everything that happened with my dad. Part of me wants to go because I miss her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Train tickets are probably too expensive anyway.”

“I’ll drive you.”

You turn to face him. “Sunghoon, it’s a two hour drive.”

“And?”

“I’m not making you drive two hours to my house and two hours back to Seoul.” He looks at you like this is the easiest decision he’s ever had to make.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I want to. This has been weighing on your mind for a long time and I don’t want you to miss out on spending the holidays with your mom just because of how much a ticket would cost to get you there.”

“Sunghoon–”

“It’s no sweat off of my back. I’m serious about it. I don’t have classes anymore and my work schedule is flexible. Plus, I think it could be cute to see where you grew up.”

“That’s…Really sweet of you.” Sunghoon turns to look at you too and smiles with those plush lips you think about kissing a little too much. You try to reel it in because he’s your friend and that’s what friends do, right?

“You’ve done a lot for me. The least I could do is drive you home.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t say anything. Sunghoon sees you from the corner of his eye as you turn back to face the TV, and he watches you try to hide a smile. He turns away and feels his own cheeks flush at the thought of seeing you in your hometown, even if it’s for a short while. Above all, Sunghoon wants this Christmas to feel like it’s the best one you’ve ever had on the account that you’ve made Seoul feel like home for him.

The night progresses and you switch to a movie halfway through the night until you yawn. Sunghoon grabs a blanket and puts it over the both of you instead of suggesting you go back to your apartment. Somehow, this gesture feels kinder than anything anybody has ever done for you.

You’re both acutely aware of how close your bodies are because of the blanket but neither of you care all that much. Your shoulder keeps bumping into his every time you move and eat the popcorn he’s provided, and Sunghoon silently wishes that he could pull your body against his once and for all. He doesn’t, choosing to savor the way your side touches him instead of doing anything that might make you uncomfortable. But somewhere in your tired stupor, you put your head on his shoulder and yawn.

“Thank you everything,” you say quietly. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you’d drive me home.”

“I’d do anything for you.” Sunghoon says it a bit too quickly but he doesn’t regret telling you that.

“I wish I could repay you.”

“Being here is enough. Can I try something?”

When you nod, Sunghoon maneuvers himself so that his back rests against the arm of the couch with his body spread across the cushions without disrupting you too much. You don’t fight against him when he scoops you into his arms and places your head on his chest. You feel his heartbeat in this position. It’s slow and melodic, unlike your fantasies of hoping the cute guy next door would have a rapid heart rate every time he saw you. But you think you like this better; Sunghoon seems to be comfortable around you.

For the fear of touching you too much, Sunghoon keeps his hands by his side and pulls them away when he realizes he’s touching your exposed skin. You let go of every thought telling you to run away and grab his arms to wrap them around your own body, nuzzling your way close to his with your eyes closed in contentment.

In lieu of saying goodnight, you kiss his chest and Sunghoon thinks he might be on cloud nine.

***

In the time between telling your mother you’d be home for a couple of days over the weekend to arriving at her doorstep, your friends have expressed their happiness in your decision. Jake couldn’t help but feel emotional when you told him and you get the feeling that Jay always knew the decision you’d make. Heeseung chose to forego teasing you out of solidarity for this vulnerable moment and wishes you all the best. However, all three of them did not hold back in telling you every joke in the book when you told them Sunghoon was dropping you off and picking you up.

Sunghoon drives seamlessly and you silently thank him for it because approaching the familiar quietness of your neighborhood makes you feel somewhat uneasy. Your stomach turns in flips when you see that same house you used to look up at whenever you’d come home from school. It’s still jarring to see that only your mom’s car is parked on the street with your father’s car nowhere to be seen. It’s a physical reminder that he isn’t here and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not. She greets you the moment Sunghoon parks his car and the feeling of melting into her arms is indescribable.

“I missed you,” she whispers into your hair. “It’s been so long.”

“I know, Eomma. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re here now and that’s all I care about. You’re Sunghoon, right?” He turns to look at you as he pulls your duffle bag out of his car and bows at a full ninety degrees for just a second too long. She finds it amusing and tells him so when he stands up.

“Pleasure to meet you. Y/N has great things to say about you.”

“Oh, trust me. She has good things to say about you too.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands and grab the bag from Sunghoon, turning your body away from him. “I think we’ve had a long car ride and can find literally anything else to talk about.”

“I should get going before traffic gets bad. It was nice to meet you.”

“Come in for some tea!”

She doesn’t give him the chance to respond but he doesn’t seem to mind. Sunghoon takes off his shoes and leaves them in the corner as your mom presents the two of you with a freshly brewed pot that reminds you of your childhood. The interior looks the same as it has since you last visited and that big family portrait still hangs above the couch in the living room. Your father smiles back at you like he’s happy you’re here.

Sunghoon chooses to remain quiet as he drinks his tea to give you and your mom some time to catch up. He feels a bit awkward in a stranger’s home when this trip was supposed to be about you and your family, but he can’t say he isn’t pleased when the warmth of the tea starts to settle in his chest. Photos of you from your childhood line the walls and he can’t help but comment about how adorable you look in pink bows and frilly dresses. You look as cute then as you do now, but that’s something he will never tell you.

Your mom brings out a small booklet of photos from your past, too. You try to prevent her from showing Sunghoon but he laughs it off and sits with pictures of you from elementary school in his hands. He tries not to let it show that his hands are shaking because you let your chin rest on his shoulder as you peer over him. He can feel your warm breath on his neck and it sends him into a short spiral until you’re scooping up the book and handing it back to your mom with a bashful smile on your face.

He can see that you’re trying your best not to feel like that same, awkward mess of a teenage girl when your mother tells him stories about you from childhood. She tells him about the first time you performed in a dance recital and how you were center stage only to accidentally trip on your shoelaces that nearly sent you flying into the audience. She tells him about your first overseas vacation to Disney World in Florida because it was the first time you learned you hated humidity and people who didn’t know how to drive.

With every hour that passes by, Sunghoon starts to think he understands you better. He knows you to be somebody who’s independent and confident, but the idea that you had to work hard towards it was lost on him until he came to visit your hometown. He understands why you felt so trapped here between your mother’s rants about how difficult your dad was to the limited opportunities for you to thrive. She tells him a bit about how you were emotionally unavailable in your teenage years despite your protests (as mothers tend to do), but she finishes her thought by telling Sunghoon how she’s always thought you were destined for things greater than what a small fishing town could ever offer you. He pretends like he’s got allergies when he feels his eyes watering up.

Sunghoon asks to stretch his legs and by the time the night approaches, he’s agreed to stay over and spend more time visiting your favorite places and where you grew up. Your mom tells him not to feel like he’s intruding, as she rarely gets to spend time with anybody in your life, and he decides that this little vacation might be good for him. He offers to pay for dinner and he thinks he’s gained some approval for that.

Time passes by too quickly for his liking. You’ve taken him everywhere you can think of–your old ice skating rink, your favorite boba shop, the schools you’ve attended–but it still feels like he’s barely scratched the surface of getting to know you before adulthood. He loves that you’re so open about yourself in a way that he’s never been able to. You talk his ear off about drama that you haven’t thought about in decades and he listens and feels several different emotions on your behalf despite not knowing anybody you’re talking about. He parks his car in the parking lot of your high school and the two of you spend an hour eating takeout from your favorite sandwich shop and gossipping about the entire town just for the two of you to hear.

You talk about your dad on occasion and he doesn’t pry you to talk about it either. Sunghoon hears the melancholy in your voice when you think about old memories and missing him in ways you’ve never been able to experience before. You tell him that it’s been four years since you lost yourself. You also tell him that you don’t want to live the kind of life where you’re held back by his opinion anymore. He’s here in the walls and all over town, and the weight of missing him doesn’t feel like a burden anymore. It feels like a step towards freedom to be who you are, free from the anchors that kept you sheltered. Sunghoon knows your mother must be proud of you for making this decision because he sees it in her smile when she watches you laugh.

He decides he wants this kind of life; Sunghoon wants to be supported by his family when it comes to what he wants to do with his life. He wishes his parents believed in him as much as your mother believes in you. Seeing her so open and welcoming to a complete stranger and bragging about your accomplishments to him makes Sunghoon yearn for that kind of unconditional love too. Even in the moments when you get quiet over unpleasant memories that seem to resurface from coming back home, it seems that she helps you through it and doesn’t shame you for feeling the way that you do. It’s something Sunghoon desperately wishes he could do instead of entertaining conversations about taking over his family’s business.

If there’s one thing you’ve taught Sunghoon, it’s that he can fall as many times as he wants so long as he chooses to get back up again. He’s come to love how open you are when it comes to people and experiences because he’s starting to understand just how difficult your childhood was until you found your footing in Seoul. Being alone meant exploring who you were without the opinions of people who wanted to hold you back. Even if people gave you reasons to shun the world and expect apologies from everybody under the sun, you hold your chin up with dignity and choose to move on instead of dwelling on people and things that don't matter. He wishes he could be like that too.

“Are you happy?”

Sunghoon stares at your ceiling in your childhood bed when he asks you that. He’s a bit surprised that he’s allowed to be here at all and offered to take the couch, but your mother said the two of you are adults and don’t need her permission. The two of you were blushing messes when she left you alone to unpack your clothes while she gave him an extra toothbrush and old clothes from her brother who left them at her place. Both of you decided that it would be too awkward to try to not cuddle on your surprisingly comfortable twin bed and he chooses to use this as an excuse to touch you. He hasn’t heard a complaint from you and the feeling of your body wrapped up in his is exhilarating.

“I am, yeah. This weekend was a lot better than I thought it would be.”

“But are you happy with your life? Are you happy with yourself?” You push yourself off his body and look down at him.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“I kept thinking about my life and my parents for the past couple of days. Your mom’s sweet and I can tell she believes in you whenever she tells me about your life here. It sounds like she did her best to raise you between work and your dad, and I can never imagine how stressful your childhood must've been with him in the house. I see how much you’ve grown from everything. It’s inspiring.”

“I don’t know if inspiring is the right word. I think I was dealt with shitty cards and expected an apology from the world without realizing that I had to work on myself in order to receive it.”

“That’s the thing, though. I can see that you’ve put in the work to become a better person. My parents aren’t as supportive as your mom and I kept thinking to myself: ‘Do I want to go through with a life that’s already planned for me when I know I’ll be unhappy?’”

Sunghoon looks up at you when he feels you brush his hair from his eyes. He can’t really tell what you’re thinking about as you look all over his face but the gentle touch of your fingertips puts him at ease as his mind begin to race.

“I am happy. There are moments where I feel like the world is crumbling around me, but I know tomorrow is around the corner. I used to think that there wouldn’t be people out there who would ever believe all of the things I went through, but meeting the guys and making a life for myself makes me think otherwise. I’m happier because of it.”

“That makes me feel hopeful.”

“Does it?”

He nods and closes his eyes when your fingertip draws an invisible pathway across his cheek and down the bridge of his nose. You get dangerously close to his lips but your hand merely cups his jaw and your simple, gentle touch is enough for Sunghoon to realize he’s fallen far too hard to give up on his future, especially if you’re in it.

“Yes,” he says in a whisper. “You make me feel like I could do anything if I try hard enough.”

Sunghoon stares at you like you’ve hung up every star in the galaxy for him to see. When he looks at you, everything he’s been too afraid to say comes bubbling to the surface and his life beyond today becomes as clear as day. He wants to wake up next to you every morning and listen to your childhood stories until you run out of breath. He wants to spend every Christmas with you and fill your memory box with as many receipts with his signature on it. There is no future without you in it.

You kiss him so tenderly that Sunghoon thinks he might be imagining things. Your palm is warm to the touch and he’s quick to react, pulling your body closer to his while his arms enclose your body against him. Sunghoon doesn’t know how many nights he’s spent imagining what your lips taste like or the way you sound with his mouth on yours, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

He maneuvers you onto his lap because of the limited space on your twin bed and his body feels like it’s set ablaze when the back of your thighs touch his lap. You’re wearing thin shorts and an oversized shirt while he’s wearing clean basketball shorts from his car and a shirt your mom let him borrow. He feels your breasts push against his muscular chest as you lean against him for support and tilt your head to capture his mouth like you’re trying to taste all of him at once, and Sunghoon thinks he likes it when you’re desperate for him too.

The weight of your body on his lap inevitably makes him hard and the quiet gasp into his mouth makes Sunghoon buck himself up into you. You grip onto his shoulders and dig push him back down onto the mattress to keep yourself steady and he’s about to apologize for crossing a boundary until you grind yourself onto him too. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he complies, taking it off in one fell swoop.

“You’re really hot, you know that?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work out for you?”

“Not even a little bit.” Sunghoon laughs as he pulls your shirt off of your body delicately, cupping your breasts in his hands as he gives them a soft squeeze.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “So perfect.”

He’s hard underneath you, so much so that you feel him through your thin sleeping shorts. His cock is situated between your folds and every small movement you make is enough to make him feel like he’s losing his mind. Sunghoon holds your breasts in his hands as you push yourself off of his lap just to sink your weight back down. He gives your nipples a squeeze periodically and he makes a mental note when you throw your head back and moan.

“I’m so wet,” you whisper when you sit upright, your hips continuing to grind against him. The way your voice cracks makes him feel better about being desperate to feel you. “This feels so good, Hoonie. But we can’t. My mom’s down the hall.”

“Do you trust me?”

Seeing you nod is enough for him. Sunghoon’s thankful your mattress isn’t loud or bumping against the wall. He temporarily pulls you off of his body to kick off his shorts and feels a bit shy when you stare at how big and hard he is through his boxers. You push your lap back down onto his and he refrains from moaning too loud, silencing himself by pulling your lips down to his by your neck. His hands wander to your ass as you feel his toned chest and abdomen too. He pushes and pulls your body over his cock and moves his lips to kiss up your jawline.

“I wish I could fuck you properly like you deserve,” he says, leaving a wet trail of kisses on your skin.

“I want that too.”

“I’d worship every inch of you.” He uses his hands to press you against his lap until you bite back a moan. “I want to know what you feel like.”

“Fuck.”

“Cute.”

He kisses your chin and wraps his arms around your lower back to keep you in place before thrusting his hips up to meet yours. Sunghoon catches you by surprise and you bite his shoulder to keep yourself from moaning too loud every time his clothed cock bumps against your clit. He’s so warm underneath you and this kind of touch is one that you’ve been craving longer than you’d like to admit.

The passion is short lived and the two of you don’t care how quick it takes the two of you to come undone in the quiet of your bedroom. He kisses you and tries to swallow the sound of your lips smacking against one another, too afraid that one wrong move could make your mother distrust him. Sunghoon’s kisses make you dizzy but you cling onto him like he’s your lifeline until your high ebbs away, and the two of you clean up before getting a well deserved, good night’s rest.

***

Sunghoon can barely keep his hands off of you when the two of you arrive back to your apartment. He tells you to come back to his place and have a cup of tea with him before you part ways and you agree. The entire car ride home made you feel like you might as well be living in one of your daydreams because he didn’t mind it when you pulled one of his hands from the steering wheel to hold it the entire drive back. He’d switch from holding your thigh to kissing the back of your hand every time you changed the music. The two of you sang your hearts out to pop songs from the 2000s and pretended to perform in front of an audience when dramatic ballads came on shuffle.

Things fall into place on the ride back. You decide to pursue a promotion when it opens in the new year and text your friends to tell them you’re safe and with Sunghoon. They make you promise to tell them all about this past weekend and try to get you to reveal your presents, but you refuse and include Sunghoon in all of the jokes they tell you in your group chat before they ask if he wants to be added into the main one. In every sense of the word, it felt like the two of you found a home in each other.

He lets you change into fresh clothes and shower before you knock on his apartment. Sunghoon feels his heartbeat picking up when you show up in a tank top and shorts with no bra on, and he feels a bit like a teenage boy seeing a girl semi-naked for the first time. The two of you talk about your trip and the next festive thing you’ll do when he feels himself starting to get worked up. All Sunghoon can think about was keeping his promise to you when he made you orgasm through your panties. He wants you to know that he loves you, so he decides to tell you that when you stand up to put your mug in his sink.

“I love you. I’m telling you right now that I’d do anything you asked me to.”

Sunghoon squeezes your hips with his fingers like he’s trying to convey what he says through his touch. His breath is warm as it fans against your lips and the heat of his apartment makes your cheeks and neck warm up from where you stand. He breathes heavily, as if his confession carries a great deal of weight to it. Every word he speaks drips with honesty and the loyalty behind it scares you.

And yet, you can’t bring it in yourself to pull away when he kisses you.

His soft, pillowy lips approach your own with caution. You feel him hover above you until he’s ghosting his mouth against yours as if you’re a magnet he can no longer resist. Sunghoon’s lips descend upon your own and he holds your body tightly against him like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You both move like two slow dancers, swaying to the silent melody only audible by those who pay close enough attention. It’s at this moment you understand why poets and romantics speak of a hidden language only two lovers know. Sunghoon’s confession strengthens the feelings you’ve harbored for him and something about the way he touches you makes you feel like you can let go of your inhibitions. He’s brought your eagerness bubbling to the surface and you find that the harder you try to ignore your love for him, the louder your heart beats inside of your chest.

You can’t help but think about how perfectly you slot against Sunghoon when you wrap your arms around his neck. He squeezes your hips the more you push into him and kisses you like he’s trying to commit the way your lips feel to memory. All of your worries melt into the floor the moment Sunghoon pulls away to look at your face under the ambient lighting and his gentle touch brushes your hair out of your face. His delicate thumbs come to cup your jawline and rub the apples of your cheeks as if you were made of something breakable. Sunghoon looks at you like this with the kind of gaze that can only be described as fondness. He looks at you with an accumulation of his feelings and desires of being wanted for who he is, not who he’s supposed to be.

When Sunghoon looks at you, what he sees before him is a strong girl who braves the toughest weather in a tiny row boat with nothing but her wits and a single paddle. It’s your intelligence and patience that steers you away from the turbulent waters. You’re a beacon that lights a dark tunnel and deep down, Sunghoon knows that you’re his guiding light that’ll lead him home. It was your charm and passion that drew him in, and it’s your resilience and willpower that makes him want to stay.

“I am nothing without you.” Sunghoon kisses both of your cheeks and his warm lips feel like comforting reminders that he’ll always be with you.

“Hoonie…”

“What is it?”

“Kiss me.”

He does, with a slow pass at your lips while his hands cradle your cheeks in his hands and the tenderness of his touch feels something akin to puzzle pieces falling into place. The feeling is intense and overwhelming the more you drink in Sunghoon’s words to you and in this very moment, you allow yourself to believe he means what he says. Your hands find perch on his wrists as you grip onto him to anchor yourself. Sunghoon keeps kissing you as he puts one hand behind your head while the other moves to your upper back. He’s got you, even when you fall onto the mattress behind you when he dips your body backwards.

Sunghoon hovers above your body and cages you underneath him as his warm mouth pushes against you rougher than before. He squeezes your hip until both legs are wide open enough for him to slot his body between them. It’s like he can’t get enough of the way you feel against his body because he finally has you exactly where he wants you. Sunghoon’s heart beats loudly in his chest that he feels the vibrations in his ears the more he listens to the way you two kiss, paired with your hands pushing up his shirt. Your fingernails rake down his abdomen and it leaves him a panting mess while he sucks in his stomach at the intense feeling. Sunghoon pushes a quiet moan against your mouth and you drink it up like it’s water.

“I want to see you.”

You whisper your incantation against his lips and the desperation in your voice enchants him. Sunghoon moves his fingertips to the hem of his shirt and briefly disconnects your mouth to pull it over his body completely before coming back down to kiss you again. He feels your hands spread across his shoulders and arms, squeezing his biceps while you moan at their firmness. They touch his chest and down to his sculpted abdomen when he jolts and he emits that same, breathy moan from before.

Sunghoon chases your lips when you push his chest away from you and it takes two tries until he’s pulling his body back. The way you look underneath him does not compare to when he dreams of you like this. You’re breathtaking and alluring with your hair fanned out and lips wet and swollen from his kiss. He loves the way you look at him like he’s your consolation prize for befriending him all that time ago, and Sunghoon thinks he loves the feeling of you looking at his body like you’re a step from objectifying him. It feels like you’re finally taking what you want without hesitating to, like you’re not ashamed of feeling so intensely about him. That guard you keep up, the one placed there in protection against those who have the intention of abandoning you, has vanished only for him.

“Touch me.”

His baritone command rings in your head while your hand spreads across his abdomen. Your fingers feel every hard ridge and the way he constricts his stomach underneath your touch. Sunghoon holds your hand underneath his to pull it up to his neck and guides you down his body as if he wants you to memorize what he feels like too. Somewhere between his parted lips and intense eye contact is when you realize your sanity is nowhere to be found, and it seems like he can tell because he feels the way your legs squeeze him.

“I want you to see me too.”

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt. “Can I take this off?”

When you nod, his fingers begin to tremble the higher the fabric travels up your body. Your skin is warm and soft underneath his tongue and he’s afraid that he’ll forget what you look like if his eyes stray from you. He pushes your top until he sees your deep green bra that hides your chest from him and pushes your back into an arch for him to unhook the fabric without much of a fuss.

He doesn’t know where to look first. The bra is thrown haphazardly beside him and you can’t bring yourself to care about where it is on his bedroom floor. Instead, his hands cup your breasts and his fingers give a light squeeze as if to experiment with them. Sunghoon’s eyes gloss over your body and his mouth parts in astonishment the more he soaks your image in. He brings the pads of his thumbs to rub your nipples that have grown hard and sensitive since he pushed you onto the bed.

Slowly, he descends. His warm mouth wraps around your left nipple with a tantalizing slowness that makes you feel like time is frozen around the two of you. Your heart drums in your chest at his merciful tongue that experimentally licks your nub. Sunghoon’s eyes dart up to look at you and drink in every reaction from his movements, and when he feels your chest arch into him upon sucking his mouth around your nipple, he brings his hand to the other and pinches it until you yelp.

He flattens his tongue to lick you up before moving his head to switch to your other nipple, pressing a wet kiss to the valley between your breasts before attaching himself back onto you. The spot where his lips touched you blooms underneath your skin and sends a soft buzz all over your body. It’s hard to focus on his mouth when you feel overwhelmed in the best way possible.

“So soft.” Sunghoon mutters in the quiet silence apart from your quiet pants and his mouth working your nipple. He grips your breasts and pushes them together as if to admire your naked chest with you watching him.

“Hoonie—”

“I need to taste you.” He licks between both nipples and speaks as if he’s read your mind just by looking at you. “Can I? Please?”

To be yearned like this feels like it could’ve been a blessing from above. Sunghoon looks at you with determination when you nod and you watch him sink further down your body with his hands following in his wake. In the quiet of his room, the bedsheets rustle underneath you when he beckons you to sit back against the pillows at the top of his bed. His warm and heavy breaths touch your thighs when he hooks his fingers around your shorts and pulls them down along with your panties. He hums when he pulls them off of you completely and looks directly between your legs, bringing both of his palms to feel your smooth legs until they come to grip your inner thighs.

His electric touch is a spark you cannot seem to run away from. You feel completely frozen underneath his stare but you can’t bring yourself to shy away from his touch or sink deeper within yourself. Something about the man before you brings out the desires and needs you keep locked away, tucked inside the smallest cupboard in the back of your mind with the key long gone. But somehow, Sunghoon has paved his own way and brought you to your knees with a single kiss.

Sunghoon kisses your inner thighs, his pillowy lips leaving traces of cool spit onto your hot skin. His slow, soft pace is the kind of patience you wish for yourself. You love how kind and gentle he is when he’s with you and he never pushes you farther than your own capacity. He lets you set the tone and lead him wherever you choose to go, and his delicate touches with your body completely bare before him makes you think love and sex can be just as powerful as everyone says it is. When Sunghoon’s mouth comes to pass your core, he kisses the middle of your slit and savors the way your lap moves against him.

“You feel so good.” He mutters against your other thigh like he’s saying a prayer. “So pliant for me.” Sunghoon nips at the juncture and smiles to himself when you gasp before returning to your mound, his left hand caressing your thigh while his other brings his thumb to knick at your hardened, aroused nub.

“Sunghoon, I can’t…”

“Can’t what, baby?”

“I can’t wait anymore.” When Sunghoon looks up at you, he sees the lust by the way your mouth parts just slightly ajar and how your chest rises and falls in anticipation. Who is he to deny you of your pleasure?

Without another word, Sunghoon closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out to lick a fat stripe up your folds. Your moans are like music to his ears and he swears he could bottle it up and keep it shelved for days. The way you taste covers the surface of his wet muscle and he hums right into your core the more his mouth explores your aroused hole, poking the tip inside of you with every other swipe of his tongue just to tease you.

“Ah, ahh!” Sunghoon loves hearing the way you whine underneath him and moans in appreciation when you roll your hips against his face because of him. It motivates him to move his head against you too, angling his face to lick every every single part of you.

Your hands find themselves gripping your naked breasts in an attempt to ground yourself as your chest becomes one with the ceiling the more you arch your back. Sunghoon’s hands come to hold your waist and keep your legs spread before him before you can even think about falling back onto the bed. His touch is magnetic and you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to be touched by anyone before him.

He lets your body fall and decides to give your legs a break since they’ve been spread out for him for so long. Your hips thank him when he lifts them both into the air and temporarily separates himself from your core to look at you like this. Sunghoon rises to kneel before you and his saliva leaves a string of spit when he detaches from your swollen folds.

“Your pussy is so pretty.” Sunghoon stares intently at your glistening core and he’s mesmerized by the way you clench at his praise. He brings his thumb to your clit and rubs your sensitive nub and smears your wetness around your folds, his other hand holding your legs up for you. “I can’t believe you deprived me of it for so long.

“I wanna cum,” you moan selfishly when he sticks two of his fingers inside. Your smooth walls engulf his digits and your arousal splashes around the more he pumps them in and out of you.

“My baby wants to cum?” he asks rhetorically, thrusting his fingers rapidly while your hands come to steady your legs in the air the way he’s been holding you. “You deserve to cum, baby. Let me make you feel good. Shit, yeah, squeeze my fingers just like that.”

“I-I can’t hold it!”

“Cum right now or I’ll stop fucking you.”

As if a dam’s protective guard had shattered into a million pieces, Sunghoon’s command tips you over the edge and you release around his fingers. Your mind feels dizzy with the nonstop pleasure he’s been giving you and the way his fingers reach the deepest parts within you the more he angles himself on top of your body. His soft praises of a job well done sink into your chest the more he speaks. The sight of his toned biceps moving with every pass of your pussy makes you clench and push your orgasm out around his fingers. Sunghoon smiles wickedly at your mound the more you cream around his fingers and only stops pumping himself when your pussy squeezes him out. He brings his hand to his mouth and wraps them around his digits.

“Mm,” he hums, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders drop. You peek at his lap and see his fully hardened cock tenting in his pants. The impressive size stares back at you like it’s daring you to take a peek. Sunghoon licks his fingers clean and catches you staring at his dick when he opens his eyes, but your lustful gaze only fuels his arousal. He leaks in his boxers and feels the precum soak the fabric.

“You taste so fucking good.”

“Really?” Sunghoon grips your legs gently and settles them back down onto the mattress, soothing your sore thighs with his palms as he lightly massages your skin. He bends down to lick you one more time.

“Best pussy I’ve ever tasted. I could die between your legs.”

“Sunghoon.”

“I’m being serious.”

He watches your hole when he pulls his pants and boxers down below his balls until his cock springs out and bounces in your presence. He’s big and girthy, just like you’d imagined the first time you saw the outline of his dick in his pants one morning. Sunghoon wraps his palm around his length and gives himself an experimental squeeze, hissing at the warm contact before tilting his head to spit on the head before stroking himself. The wet sound makes your core jolt in excitement. He watches you looking at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth with an expression so determined that it makes him laugh from above you.

“Eager for me?” You look up but you don’t answer him. “I’m always so fucking hard for you but I didn’t want to scare you away. You wore this long black dress that made your body look like sin a while back. I think about what your ass looked like in that dress from time to time.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “I haven’t worn that dress in so long…that was before we met.”

“Yeah,” he confesses, twisting his wrist against himself before pinching the tip. “Thought you were cute back then.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He stops stroking himself and kicks off the rest of his clothing before settling back between your stomach and cups your jawline with his hand. The way he looks at you is pure and nearly cliché, like the two of you might as well be the lead roles in a romance film. His warm, brown eyes bore into yours and you can’t say you don’t love it when he looks at you like this.

“I didn’t want to get too attached to anything or anyone because I knew I had to go back home. I kept telling myself I wouldn’t do anything unless something gave me a reason to talk to you, and then we ran into each other with Jake’s ugly sweater.”

You cheeks head up. “I forgot about that.”

He kisses your lips once. “You looked so cute in it.”

“I look atrocious, Hoonie. It’s okay, it’s called an ugly sweater for a reason.”

“You could wear a trash bag and make it look fashionable.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, but I appreciate your faith in me.” Sunghoon kisses the tip of your nose. When he moves, you feel his bare cock resting against your folds and push your hips to meet him. His cock slots between them and Sunghoon hums when you grind against him, holding one of your hips steady.

“Make me wet, baby.” Sunghoon kisses your jawline and his wet lips leave a cool trail on your skin the more you grind against him. “Make my cock wet enough to fuck you.”

“Shit, shit…”

“Feels good, yeah?”

“So good,” you whisper. He kisses just beneath your earlobe and puckers his lips until he sucks the skin underneath. The tip of his cock catches your clit with every other pass and Sunghoon drinks up your moans like it’s water.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and let me stick it in, right? You want my cock just as badly as I want your pussy, don’t you?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.” He chuckles and his warm breath against your ear makes you shiver.

“Good at what, babe?”

“Talking. Touching me, fuck…everything.”

He drags his nose across your neck to the other side. “You deserve to feel good. You’ve been running around all over Seoul with no one to take care of you but me.”

“Can’t believe I want you this much.” Without disrupting the position, Sunghoon reaches between your bodies and angles his cock until it breaches your hole with just his tip. It pulls a gasp out of you and Sunghoon lifts his head to watch your face morph in pleasure with your mouth open slightly ajar and eyes almost squinting in disbelief.

“You don't even know the half of it. I want all of you all the time.” He pushes another inch inside of you. “I want to mold your pussy to the shape of my cock to the point that nobody else can fuck you as good as I can.”

You grip onto his biceps. “F-Fuck.”

“I want to be the only person you look for. I don’t care how long it takes me to come back, but I’m not leaving you behind. I want you. Only you.”

The feeling you get when you’re with him makes your chest feel tight with love and admiration the more Sunghoon looks at you like you’re the object of his affection, as if you’re something he cannot live without. You didn’t know that love could feel like an accumulation of every happy memory replaying in your head simultaneously. This newfound overwhelming sensation makes you feel like there isn’t anything you can’t face, as long as you face them with Sunghoon.

He, on the other hand, finally understands why people talk about finding a home within another person. He’d never given second thought to romance when he knew that his life was planned out for him since he was born and never once thought that he’d get to make decisions on his own about his feelings when his entire livelihood is surrounded by order and duty. But here you are, lying so beautiful underneath him like a mosaic built from colorful stained glass with the sun peeking through it. You look like a dream with your face so pretty the more he pushes into you until he’s buried himself to his full capacity.

Neither of you have ever had sex like this, so pure and raw with your bodies in tune with one another. It feels like the two of you exist beyond space and time with the way your breathing intensifies the more Sunghoon pulls out from you just to push right back inside. The intensity that permeates around his bedroom makes your breath run short and it fuels Sunghoon to keep a slow and steady rhythm, allowing his cock to reach the deepest parts within you without pushing you too fast. The whole affair is erotic and what can only be described as lovemaking. Sunghoon watches your eyes squeeze shut below him and brings a hand to push the stray hair away from your face. He thinks the two of you must’ve been fated in every universe for him to find, because there is not a single person he could ever imagine loving more than you.

“I’ll fuck you every single day if you let me,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. He pulls his body up and places both palms on either side of your body before rolling his hips back. The new angle pushes him in a way that makes you moan loudly.

“Fuck, Sunghoon.”

“My baby’s so fucking pretty when she’s filled with my cock. Do you love this as much as I do?”

“Yes!”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

You don’t hesitate to answer him.

“I love you. I want you here forever.”

“I can give you forever. I swear on it.”

He pistons his hips until the audible sound of his pelvis smacking against yours becomes the loudest sound in the room. His balls slap against your ass when you wrap your legs around his waist until he drops to his elbows to catch you and squeeze your body when you clench around him. He tucks himself into your neck and his forehead feels warm and sweaty to the touch, but you can’t say that you don’t love how much he’s putting his body–and yours–through the ringer just to make you cum as many times as he possibly can.

None of this feels real. Sunghoon might as well be a figment of your imagination because it seemed impossible for sex to feel as good as he’s making you feel. All of your concerns about the future don’t exist when he’s bringing you closer and closer to your second orgasm. He, too, pushes all of his unwanted thoughts away in favor of helping you chase your release. Sunghoon’s determined to show you just how much he loves you by any means possible, and if his words of conviction won’t do him justice, he hopes his body will.

It’s uncanny the way you feel completely safe around Sunghoon, when no one else has ever made you close to feeling the way you do with you. You’re able to break right before his very eyes and pick yourself off of the floor without feeling ashamed to have insecure and unwanted feelings about love and your attitude surrounding happenstances. You live your life based on the principle that everything happens for a reason and that people come and go but lessons will always stick with you. The people who live as ghosts in your past serve as reminders of painful memories and people who were never supposed to be here for very long, and you pray to the Heavens that Sunghoon is somebody meant to be in your life until forever comes to an end.

Sunghoon holds himself off until he feels you unravel around him by the way you cling onto his body and clench around his cock. He brings his lips to yours and roughly pushes against your swollen ones when he feels you coming undone and allows himself to follow your lead. His cum fills you with thick, white ropes and oozes out from around him when your pussy can’t hold it in anymore. Sunghoon slows his pace down the more you try to catch your breath in an attempt to help you ride out your orgasm without overwhelming you too much. The squelches keep him semi-hard and your lips taste exactly like his favorite memory.

“My good girl,” he whispers. “So sexy when you cum.”

“You’re one to talk. You look like fucking Adonis right now.”

Sunghoon laughs and kisses your forehead. “You flatter me too much.”

“Nuh uh. I’m telling you the truth. It’s a little unfair how you always look so good, even when you aren’t trying.”

“You’re one to talk.” He kisses your lips. “You always look so…cute.”

“Just cute?”

“Pretty, too.”

“Only pretty?” Sungoon smacks your outer thigh.

“You are very beautiful and I’m enamored with you.”

That makes you blush. “Hoon.”

“What? Can’t a guy proclaim his love anymore?”

Sunghoon’s body is warm against yours and he looks down at you with a fond smile in a way you always hoped somebody would. His dark eyes feel warm from above you and something about the way he’s watching you doesn’t make you feel observed. Rather, you feel a blooming warmth within your chest and nuzzle into his touch when he brings his hand to cup your face and rub the apple of your cheek. Sunghoon is gentle with his touch and you find it unbelievable that he’s managed to squeeze his way into your comfort zone as successfully as he had. You love his touch. You crave it, even.

His smile widens when you kiss the underside of his hand with a sweet peck and tilts his head in amusement. You feel bashful when Sunghoon looks at you like this because it feels reminiscent of having a crush in your childhood years, but with him, you can’t find that you dislike the way that you feel. His palm is warm and comforting, especially after spending so much time putting your body through physical rigor in ways you’ve never experienced. His strength never ceases to impress you and the nights you’ve spent picturing yourself underneath him suddenly have merit to them now.

You find yourself breaking your own character when you lift your head up to push Sunghoon’s lips against yours and his response is immediate. Sunghoon’s plush lips melt right into yours and he slots himself against you like he was always supposed to be there, letting your head lie against the bed while his arm holds your waist. Everything about Sunghoon makes you wonder if love is supposed to feel like a quiet hug amidst a rainstorm, or if it’s supposed to feel like the crescendo in a brilliant symphonic masterpiece. Perhaps it’s a combination of both or none at all. These deep feelings you have for him have never been brought out by anyone before him.

Sunghoon must know what you’re thinking because his hand travels up your body and back to your hair, gently scraping your scalp with his blunt fingertips. It feels so good to be loved and doted on like this without feeling like you don’t deserve to find an ounce of happiness with somebody who tells you they love you. Years of running away from the feeling of a comfortable embrace melts away with every second that passes with your lips on Sunghoon’s. He feels like every bit of home you’ve spent your whole life yearning for.

“What are you thinking about?” His question pulls you out of your thoughts and you can’t find it in you to lie to him.

“Is it selfish that I want you to stay?”

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to leave Seoul either. I don’t want to leave you.”

“It feels like I just got you but now I have to let you go.”

He kisses you. “You don’t have to let me go. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince my parents to let me live the life that I want. Our trip to your hometown made me realize there’s more to life than people’s expectations of me.”

You bottom lip quivers. “I’m scared that they won’t budge and that you’ll leave. I’m scared that you’re going to move on and leave me here thinking about you.”

“I’d never.” He shakes his head like it’s a fact. “I could never forget you. I would never even think about moving on from you. I’m scared that somebody’s gonna snatch you up when I’m away.”

“I’m really in love with you, unfortunately.” Sunghoon nips at your lip and cherishes the way you laugh. He looks away from you for a split second but the soothing touch of his hand feels comforting. He watches you frown for a minute. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“Baby, you’re my present.”

“That was really corny.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He kisses you once more. “You’re too important for me to give up. I don’t want to let you go.”

Somehow, you know he’s telling the truth.

“Does this mean I’m your boyfriend now?”

“You have to ask.”

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You silence him with a kiss and when he feels you smiling against him, he has his answer.

****

comments and reblogs are appreciated! :) x

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iosivb9 · 1 month ago

Text

burreaux . joe burrow

summary - Being official with Joe is a dream come true—until your demons seem to haunt you every step of the way. With a connection this new, you're just not sure being with you is...worth it. (Read the first part of this series here) pairings - TigerGirl!Reader x LSU!Joe warnings - Language, angst, fluff, alcohol use, asshole exes, cyberbulling? idk, SMUT 18+ (MINORS DNI!), yet again THE SLOWEST OF SLOWBURNS!!!!, dom!joe and sub!reader on the NOT VERY lowest of keys this time.. up until the end hehe.. hope everyone's chill with that..

a/n - Whewww team it's been a long time coming! I'm excited to start working on the final part, cause it'll probably be a very long dosey, but I'll have so much more time to work on it because it's SUMMER 😍 Also sorry if your name is Lindsay.. or Addy.. I simply made these names up lol

Songs for this chapter if that's your vibe:

warm - Ariana Grande Fearless - Taylor Swift Nonsense - Sabrina Carpenter Enter Sandman - Metallica luther - Kendrick Lamar & SZA twilight zone - Ariana Grande Real Love - Big Thief I Have the Answer - Been Stellar 9 - Drake Swim - Chase Atlantic Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish Callous - zachy one of wun - Gunna this is me trying - Taylor Swift Leonard Bernstein & New York Philharmonic - Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring: I. Very Slowly Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

taglist - @platinumsim, @baekpop05, @flavingfrick, @burrowdarling, @definitelynotdomanique, @burrowbabe, @mggisbootiful, @camiesully, @austinswhitewolf, @why4anne, @junecats, @burrowscigar, @ijustcrypretty, @livgoescrazy, @starsyoongi, @blu3jeanbaby, @absolutelyhugh3s, @grittysbiggestfan, @joeyshiesty0, @kaylahat, @jieutieung, @rorysburrow, @harryweeniee, @alilstressyandlotdepressy, @slowlyshycomputer drop a comment to be added!

word count - 36.6k

YOUR HEART HAS never slammed harder against your chest. Not in the last moments of a gruesome hip hop routine, not at the first page turn of a three hour exam, not even in the heated concave of Death Valley on a neon Saturday night. But here, staring back at yourself in the mirror knowing this is how you will look on your very first official date with Joe…

You’ve never been this nervous in your life.

And really, you shouldn’t be. It’s Joe. Sweet, silly, so-sure-of-himself Joe. You’ve been attached at the hip for the past two months, bouncing in and out of friends’ apartments, cruising through drive thrus, lying spent and exposed in each other’s beds…nothing should really change, besides your exclusivity.

So why does it feel like everything will?

It’s unclear whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Everything may change, but everything may change…

You shake out your hands and feet in an attempt to curb the squeezing nerves in your stomach, looking over your outfit and makeup one last time before you second guess your choices again. Joe wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you, just that you should dress casual and fun–but then again, what does “casual” mean? A cute skirt and a flowy top? Heels feel like too much. Athletic shorts would certainly make it look like you didn’t care at all. What’s the in between?

The two of you were out of practice by 6:30, and Joe said he’d pick you up at 8:00, so you didn’t have much time to dwell on the details. You finally went with your nicest pair of jean shorts that suffered little seam damage in the wash, and a wine-colored linen blend tank top with a flattering boat neckline and a bow you could tie around your waist. With your hair and makeup painted to perfection, and the jewelry you adorn adding that perfect classy touch, you let out a deep sigh before forcing yourself away from the mirror. If you keep scanning over every detail, you may eventually throw yourself on your bed in complete exasperation. So, you take one last glance around your room to ensure you aren’t missing anything, and make eye contact with your fresh Adidas Sambas instead. They’re the pair of white sneakers you only wear for specific occasions to ensure they won’t get dirtied, unlike your Nike Air Force 1’s that are so greyed and split you now call them your “frat shoes”—which were only really worn your first two years of college to barns, or dive bars, or whatever disgusting venue Kappa Sig could conjure to throw parties.

It’s what you think is a good balance. Moveable, but pretty. Effortless, but put together. Joe should like it. Of course he will. It’s just Joe.

You keep telling yourself these things, repeating them in your brain over and over like a broken record, hoping the pattern calms your clammy hands and jittery heart. The music you’re playing in the background is on, and likely too loud, but it all fades to mush as you push through your mantras and focus on the mundane methods of tying your shoes.

When three solid knocks reverberate through the apartment, your brain short circuits.

“Oh my god!” You hear Tay squeal from down the hall, and you try to let her clear excitement reflect onto you. Soon enough your bubbly teammate is in your bedroom doorway, her smile broad and her weight shifting happily back and forth. “Ah, you look so beautiful, he’s gonna lose it!” Tay continues, already grabbing your small black handbag from your mini coat rack and loading it with lip liner, gum, and a small roller perfume. A breathy laugh falls from your lips as you breathe deeply, letting yourself believe Tay’s words as much as humanly possible when the guy you’re head over heels for is waiting only a wall away.

“Thank you,” you smile appreciatively, hastily heading for the main living area after your handbag is shoved into your arms. Tay is about to follow you to the entrance, no doubt to tease Joe or give him an uncomfortable ‘dad talk,’ but you’re quick to shut that down before you have to endure it. “Go away! Please, you can scold him later,” You half laugh half whine, relief washing over you when she backs off with a playful eye roll.

She’s definitely eavesdropping from the hall.

Finally you’re in front of your door, and you’re trying to let it all sink in without losing your mind. You’re about to go on your very first date with Joe Burrow. Your boyfriend.

Here goes nothing…

There’s a very small tremor in your hand as you reach for the cool silver handle, simple and quiet, but certainly there. You force every doubtful part of your brain off, reminding yourself you’ve never been the kind of girl to half-ass anything, always preferring the cannon ball to dipping your toe in the shallow end. After what you’ve been through this is one of those things that feels right, that you can’t push away, the kind of boy you deserve…

And there he is.

“Hi sweetheart,” Joe smiles, looking like everything bright, charming, and downright delectable. His snug black T-shirt hugs his chest and arms in every way you love, and his blue jeans give him a fun, boyish look that makes your heart leap up to your throat. You beam at him, smiling so wide it hurts your cheeks because he looks so good you almost miss the pretty bundle of blue and purple florals he’s clutching. Your smile cuts to a gasp when you see them, and Joe just offers them to you quietly, but you cut straight to jumping into his arms, squeezing so hard you hear his throaty laugh ring out through your apartment.

“Hi Joe, I can’t believe you,” you practically squeal into his shoulder, feeling his free hand slide onto your waist and his lips press to the side of your head. Suddenly every shudder of nerves that settled into your chest turns into lively flutters, and bold anticipation for the night ahead. The comfort of Joe’s embrace and his musky, woody scent send a wave of excitement through you, and there isn’t a doubt in your mind anymore–tonight is going to be perfect.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t bring you flowers?” Joe asks teasingly, placing the bouquet delicately in your hand when you pull back just enough to look in his kind baby blue eyes.

He’s perfect.

That word. That silly word that’s been bouncing around your head all the damn time ever since Saturday night. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. Joe Burrow is your boyfriend, and you could not be happier.

Of course there were squeals of excitement ricocheting off your walls for hours after you told the girls, spilling every special detail of the moment because you just couldn’t help yourself. You could almost feel your friends holding their breath, anticipating every word from your mouth and relishing the spark that’s inevitably back in your eyes for the first time in so long. They watched you fade into the background for the past year, shadowed by a huge ego and short man’s complex, but now you just shine.

You just hope you won’t run from something so good. Like you did after…

But this is different. Joe is different.

“Let me put these in a vase really quick,” you say as you try to bite back your smile, calm your already racing heart, but it’s no use. When he’s hovering by the door, never taking his eyes off you as you cut the stems of the pretty plants and place them delicately in a clear glass vase, it makes you feel like you have his undivided attention. You’ve never felt so watched before–well, not necessarily watched, because you’ve had over 100,000 eyes on you at once whilst completing tumbling passes in Death Valley–but noticed. Like he isn’t eyeing your tits, or wondering what color your underwear is under your shorts (though he may be thinking about those things too…), he’s checking to see if you’re picking at your nails because he doesn’t want you to feel nervous. He’s looking for goosebumps on your arms so he can offer a jacket or sweatshirt when they appear. He’s mapping out the closest exit, so that when you make one extraneous move, one shift that indicates you’re uncomfortable, he can step in and guide you out at any given moment. He cares.

You’re not being watched. You’re being seen.

The attention is unfathomable, and your cheeks burn without you even realizing it. You never realized being his would feel like this.

“You look unreal,” Joe announces, the look in his eyes shifting from protective to adoring as he naturally moves closer to you. His hands twitch by his side before one lands on the countertop beside you, the other landing delicately on the exposed skin of your upper back, just above the bow. He’s touched you a million times, in ways much more intimate than this, but the way he’s looking at you like you’re everything to him makes lightning dance off his fingertips and straight to your still-thudding heart. “Ridiculously gorgeous,” he murmurs softly, his eyes flickering down to your lips before leaning in unhurriedly.

He kisses you, short, but assured. And you melt, because his lips slot perfectly between yours, and it feels like you could just be there together in your kitchen forever, and you’d never complain.

You’re both biting back smiles when you come back to reality. “And you’re looking very handsome,” you point out, letting your eyes glaze over his chest and biceps again with zero shame. “When do you plan on telling me what it is we’re actually doing?” You question skeptically, unable to keep the grin off your face as you shove your hands on your hips and jokingly narrow your eyes.

Joe chuckles mischievously, letting his hand fall from your body and slide smoothly into your palm. “Let’s go find out,” he offers with raised brows and a knowing smirk, soon tugging you away from the counter and out the front door. A fuzzy frenzy ensues in your body when his warmth encapsulates your entire hand, and you look down at them, noticing how small your fingers look intertwined with his.

I’m not going to make it out alive.

Everything Joe does for you is so casual you barely even register it until seconds later. When he opens the door to his truck for you, holding your hand as you step up into the thing with raised tires, you give a polite nod and a, “Thank you!” But it’s not until he’s putting an arm on your seat whilst backing out of the parking space that you realize how natural it is for him. Like he isn’t trying to earn brownie points or be overly impressive. He wanted to open the door for you, so he did.

After years of begging someone to care, you never realized it could be that simple. He just…wants you.

He plays Tame Impala, music you both like, but it doesn’t matter because it’s background noise to the endless chatter and laughter that carries you all the way to your destination. Stories from an overcast practice, complaints about a professor that just insists on being an asshole, and a dumb recollection of how Joe once tried to complete the Blazin Challenge at Buffalo Wild Wings with his buddies in high school. As Baton Rouge settles into the evening, so do you, admiring how the occasional bright lights of the small city flicker in Joe’s eyes, reflecting everything lively but homey about him. Your heart feels so light and airy you forget all about the seven different shirts you tried on to find the perfect look, and don’t notice you’ve arrived until Joe shoves his truck in park.

Your eyes dart around the small shopping center off the highway, looking for a food or restaurant place, though you’re really not that hungry. There’s a FedEx, a McDonald’s, but luckily, Joe’s eyes fall on a bigger brick building that reads All Star Lanes.

“Bowling?!” You gasp, a wide smile stretching across your face. While dinner or the movies are more conventional for first dates, you’re the type of person who likes to keep yourself occupied during dates to help keep the nerves away and the energy rolling.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Joe asks with an unsure tone, slowly unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

He’s nervous. He’s so cute.

“I’m so excited, this is perfect,” you reassure him, gathering your things and glancing back up at the neon sign in anticipation.

“Good,” Joe laughs as he steps out of the car, quickly rounding the front to open your door and help you out. “Let’s see how you’re feeling when I’m kicking your ass,” he declares as you leisurely stroll to the entrance, slipping his calloused hand back into yours automatically.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself Burrow, I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve,” you scoff with a smirk, knowing damn well by saying that you’re digging yourself into a hole you might not get out of. The warm, breezy darkness of Louisiana is soon overtaken by bright purple and blue lights, swirly carpets, and funky late 80s music as you enter the bowling alley. Every bone in your body is tingling, so much so that you could just dance, right here and now.

“Okay hotshot,” Joe accepts your challenge with a puffed chest and a wide smile. “May the best bowler win.”

At first, it was anyone’s game. The two of you continued to make competitive jabs, with Joe trying to make you second guess the weight of the ball you kept picking–“8lbs and below is the zero strike zone”–and you making fun of his form, because crossing his back leg on his follow through is doing way too much. But after a couple fluke turns and a few spares during the first game, it’s clear Joe was just warming up.

Joe barley wins the first game, but after he gets his footing in the second game, you’re done for. Two thirds of the way through ten frames, Joe is winning by a healthy margin, and you start to realize his athletic ability simply outweighs yours. Your competitive spirit never strays though, and if you can’t get to him with your game, you’ll have to resort to other methods to keep your head above water.

Joe is gearing up for his next shot, methodically readjusting his grip on the bowling ball with the flex of his hand. The sharp veins in his hand protrude, rigid muscles gliding under his skin all the way up his forearm, and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his fingers curl into the slots of the ball just right…

Jesus, I need to focus.

He takes a long breath in as he approaches the lane, steadily letting it out through his mouth as he brings the hunk of metal up to his chest, as if he's about to attempt a game-winning hail mary. His arm swings back, bowling-shoe-clad feet gliding on the shiny wooden floors before he smoothly rolls the ball down the channel. It zooms towards the pins, knocking each one over with a loud crash, and a silly “Strike!” animation from 2005 flashes across the scoreboard. You automatically groan and throw your head back in defeat as Joe whips around towards you with a shit-eating grin, throwing both hands up over his head.

Suddenly, you remember something Tay always says when you beat her in bowling.

You’re either good at bowling, or good at giving head.

You suppose Joe is an outlier. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun to fuck with him.

“Sorry, baby. Maybe you can go for me on the extra points? That way we can even it out,” Joe mocks, taking a seat next to you in the lounge area of your lane. A couple waters and a basket of french fries sit on a small coffee table, and as Joe manspreads and throws an arm around the back of the booth, he grabs one of the cups to take a sip.

“Well, you know what they say about bowling…” you trail off teasingly as you instinctively lean back into his arm, well aware Joe will have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. It’s not exactly a popular saying. In fact, you’re sure Tay just made it up to get you to stop beating her.

As expected, Joe’s eyebrows furrow skeptically. “What do they say about bowling?”

“Hm…I don’t know, never mind…” you sigh dramatically, waiting for him to bite.

“Yeah, because no one says anything about bowling,” Joe scoffs with a smirk. “It’s not a real sport.”

At this, you gasp. “Excuse you, one of my friends from high school was on our bowling team, and she was their best bowler,” you defend with crossed arms. The two of you inch closer and closer as you bicker, almost forgetting the game entirely. It’s just too hard to care about anything else when you can feel the heat of his body inches away from yours, in the dark, electric lighting of the alley, and he’s still staring at you like he was at your apartment. Like you’re the only one in the room. You have his undivided attention, and he’s not shy about it.

“A bowling team?” Joe throws his head back in a hearty laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“She won states! Olivia Farwell is a legend in my town, and I can’t believe you’re running her name through the mud.”

“Hold up, let me channel her right now,” Joe brings his fingers up to his temples and closes his eyes as if some higher power is granting him the bowling talents of your old friend. You laugh and roll your eyes, shaking your head as Joe grabs another ball, acting like he’s still in “the zone” of Olivia Farwell.

Joe takes his second shot down the lane and nails another strike.

“You know what? Maybe it is a real sport,” Joe shrugs and turns just as that stupid animation flashes across the screen again.

“Oh come on, this isn’t fair. Your whole job is accuracy,” you fake a whine, batting your eyelashes up at him. “We couldn’t have picked…a place with trivia night or something? I’d certainly win that.”

“Oh, so you couldn’t get in my head with the bowling thing, now you’re calling me dumb? How many degrees do you have?” Joe laughs, grabbing your hand and tugging you up from your seat. He pulls you in close by your waist, his large palms circling nicely around your curves, and the sparks almost feel like too much. A smile spreads across your lips unwillingly, your eyes undoubtedly gazing up at him like a lovesick fool.

“I never said you were dumb-”

“Because I’m on my second one,” Joe points out with an eyebrow raise.

“I’m very excited to watch you provide families and consumers with your financial services next year,” you giggle. It’s the latest conversation of your friend group, where everyone might end up in the NFL Draft, especially after the Alabama game. Joe’s draft stock keeps climbing by the day, the latest mocks from sportscasters placing him in the early second round, though some believe his performance in Tuscaloosa guarantees him a slot in the top ten.

Joe just rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Talk all you want, but I’ll know exactly how to manage the millions of dollars I’ll be making.”

“Hmm, well make sure you set some aside for the freaky Star Wars figurine collection,” you tease with a grin, looping your arms around Joe’s neck to bring him even closer to you.

“Hey, that’s only priority number two,” Joe defends with a chuckle, his eyes flicking down to your shiny, glossed lips. “Number one is the girlfriend fund.”

“Oh, how generous,” you get out, your heart stuttering towards your throat at the mention of doing this with Joe for months to come, even after he’s drafted. Your mind races a mile a minute, and Joe’s palms press firmer against your sides, but you find a quip to keep him on his toes. “Does this mean I’m paying until that wire comes through?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joe mumbles, leaning in and closing the space between you. His lips slot between yours easily, warmth cascading down your spine as you shiver into him. Every part of you tingles with his slow, soft touches, kissing you like he wants all the time in the world with you. Like he could stay here forever, one hand coming up to cradle your jaw, his thumb slowly stroking your cheek with such tenderness you nearly lose balance.

You both pull back nice and slow, trying to breathe but never straying far, until you catch a bright red animation flashing on the bowling screen out of the corner of your eye.

“We only have ten minutes left,” you gasp, grabbing Joe’s beefy arm and tugging him towards the rack of bowling balls. “Hurry up and go!”

“I guess if I have to lay the knockout punch,” Joe dramatically sighs, easily grabbing another ball and approaching the lane. He goes through his process again, and you just watch, your smile spreading wider and wider as he lands a strike again.

Joe motions to the toppled pins with a victorious grin, cocky and confident as ever as he saunters back over to you. “Another? We should roll out the ramp for you, just to make it fair,” he boasts, laying it on thick as ever, but you just give a sly smirk back.

“Oh really?” You ask innocently, pointing up at the electronic scorecard on the TV. Joe’s expression slowly drops to confusion, his brows furrowing until his gaze follows your finger. And right there lies proof of your trickery, where the machine had already moved onto the next turn–your turn–and Joe hadn’t known.

“Oh come on,” Joe exclaims in disbelief, shaking his head as you giggle and grab his face, stretching upwards to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for the strike, baby.”

After ten more minutes of lazy, giggly play, your host comes to your booth with a check that Joe immediately picks up. A part of you itches to offer half-payment, because Joe isn’t in the NFL yet and you’re both broke college kids, but you hold yourself back and try to tell yourself you deserve this. This is a first date after all, and Joe’s the one who organized it. So you kiss his cheek softly as he’s tipping the server and signing the receipt, muttering, “Thank you, Joey.”

He just smiles and kisses your forehead, replying, “Always.”

You walk to Joe’s truck hand in hand, still high off Joe’s smile, your banter, and the fact that he just won’t stop looking at you that way. His protective, observant, attentive stare. Your joined arms swing back and forth playfully the longer you stroll, the warm breeze not doing much to soothe your burning cheeks, especially as Joe opens the passenger door for you again.

Once you’re both settled into the elevated car, Joe sighs contentedly, and starts the vehicle. “Are you hungry? Have dinner before practice?” He asks.

“No, actually. I could definitely go for some food,” you reply, nodding as Joe starts to pull out of the parking space.

“What do you think…Dearman’s?” Joe offers with a shrug, pulling back onto the highway towards LSU campus.

“I would die for a burger right now,” you groan, throwing your head back onto the headrest.

“Dearman’s it is!” Joe cheers, cracking the windows so you can continue to feel the comforting Louisiana breeze, and handing you the cable for the aux. You shuffle your entire library, giving your song choice up to the gods, and your smile spreads so wide when you hear the opening guitar riff of Fearless by Taylor Swift play.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, blasting the volume loud so you can hear Taylor over the windy highway, and more importantly so she drowns out your singing. Joe laughs at you dancing in your seat, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he focuses back on the road. Halfway through the first verse you realize the upcoming lyrics are perfect, so you sing directly to Joe, bringing your fist up to your mouth as if it’s a handheld microphone. Your movements are exaggerated, and your grin unbeatable as you perform.

We’re driving down the road

I wonder if you know I’m trying so hard not to get caught up now

But you’re just so cool, run your hands through your hair

Absentmindedly making me want you

On the last line you put one hand on Joe’s bicep, scrunching his T-shirt in your fist dramatically as you sing to him, his glistening eyes locking with yours for a few moments before darting back towards the road. His smile broadens at the line, even a small blush blooming on his cheeks, but he just shakes his head as you finish out the chorus.

Your performance gets tiring after that, so you turn down the music with a laugh, letting the rest of the short drive be consumed by a comfortable quiet and the wind in your smiling faces. All but two minutes later you’re parked again, then gliding across the parking lot like you were at the bowling alley.

Dearman’s Diner is a true 50’s joint that actually used to be a pharmacy with a lunch counter and soda machine when it first opened, but now it’s a place where you can find any Baton Rouge locals in need of a hot burger or creamy shake. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the black and white tiled floors, bright red chairs and booths, and authentic milkshake glasses–it’s so familiar it almost feels like you’ve been coming here since you were five. But you haven’t. Only since freshman year.

You and Joe slide into a cozy booth in the corner, not even touching the menus that are slotted in the condiments holder. A waitress approaches you almost immediately, a middle aged woman with a thick accent that tells you she’s been in Louisiana since before she could walk. She’s familiar, a face you’ve seen here often, but you’ve never seen her frown or falter. A true lover of life.

“Can I have a cheeseburger with no tomatoes, extra pickles, and a cherry shake please?” You order, the woman jotting it down quickly before nodding at Joe.

“I’ll take a double cheeseburger with some bacon, a large side of fries for the both of us, and a dreamsicle shake please,” Joe smiles up at her. “Thanks, Diana.”

“Of course hun, that’ll be right out,” Diana grins cheerfully at both of you, nodding before heading back towards the kitchen.

As she walks off, you each ask question after question about each other. It starts simple, with a silly comment about Joe’s choice of a dreamsicle flavored milkshake, evolving into his recollection of the weird desserts his mom made him when he was growing up. You ask about Athens, Ohio, and his hometown friends, and he listens to stories about your brooding older sister that always managed to trick you into letting her have the last piece of pizza, or pie, or whatever you were sharing when you were young.

Eventually it’s about football, the crushing weight of Joe losing the State Championship, and how it didn’t get any easier when he got to Ohio State. He tries to talk about it like it’s nothing, some obstacle that’s just a part of his journey, but there’s something in the way his throat tightens up that tells you he’s not quite ready to move on yet. Practices where he felt like nothing, calling his mom and asking if he was going down the right path, competition between his own teammates, and he kept his head down through it all. Focus. Work. Rep after rep. Your heart aches, but you get it. There’s unfinished business in Ohio.

The conversation pivots back to dance, where you tell him about your rigorous competition season from elementary through high school. Yes, Joe, it really can be like dance moms sometimes. No, I never met any of them, but I sure as hell thought they were cool. He’s so interested in the details, asking about the scoring system and the differences between each style, which one is your favorite? Do you still have any trophies or tiaras? He just looks into your eyes intently, soaking it all up like a sponge while you slowly but surely get more comfortable talking, hoping you’re not sounding too annoying.

Then he asks about law, and it truly feels like you need to stop, or he’ll think you’re ridiculously egotistical but he just keeps asking questions. You explain the different types of law you’re learning about, and which ones sound the most interesting as a career path. You explain how often law is used to villianize and fearmonger, when it’s true purpose is to serve and protect it’s people. Some people interpreting it are simply doing that to use it as a weapon–you intend to use it as a mechanism for justice.

“You’re incredible,” Joe mutters with a proud smirk on his face as he finishes chewing on a french fry. “The dedication you have to yourself and your work is…amazing. You know that, right? I mean, you have to know that.”

“Thanks,” you exhale, not exactly sure how to respond. Usually when you talk about these things people will nod and move on.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he exclaims, and when you meet his eyes, those calm, steady blue ones, you see how genuine he is. Your heart swells in your chest, because you thought you were pretty normal–average.

But he’s never met anyone like you.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” you counter softly, feeling like you might melt into the booth and simply die there. You quickly get the conversation going again, and it really is so easy to do that with him. Before you know it Diana’s back with your check, silently placing it in front of Joe.

He already paid for bowling!

This makes you frown, so you start reaching for black book without thinking.

“Don’t even think about it,” Joe’s voice brings your movement to a sharp halt, his tone casual, but very final. You look at him questioningly, about to open your mouth to protest, until he points at his rubber bracelet clad left wrist as if there’s a watch. “We’re still on date time.”

“You paid for bowling,” you counter meekly, already knowing you’re not going to win this battle.

“Date time. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you pay for a scrap of our very first date,” Joe scoffs, shaking his head and scribbling on the check. You’re overwhelmed by the attention yet again, not used to feeling so cared for, protected, provided for. It sends heat down to your core, and you catch yourself staring at him again, loving the way his brows furrow in concentration and his jaw sets. Joe’s bicep curls up as he signs the check he’s holding, the look of his strength and power adding to your need for him to take care of you in every way possible…

Diana comes around again, this time with two small to-go cups. “Alright, these are on the house so long as you get outta here quick. I wanna close up!” She teases with a laugh, holding out the styrofoam cups that appear to have another round of your respective milkshake flavors inside.

“Oh you shouldn’t have, we’ll get out of your hair,” you thank her, grabbing your things and heading out of the now empty restaurant hand in hand with Joe. You both furiously sip on your drinks, because Dearman’s really does make the best milkshakes in all of Louisiana, red faced and giggling as you step into Joe’s truck again.

“Fuck, I drank this too fast,” Joe laughs, holding a palm up to his forehead and scrunching his eyes shut. The atmosphere in the car is much more intimate, both of you now much closer than you were sitting across from each other in the booth. The heat from both of your bodies radiate, and you can’t seem to get your heart to stop pounding.

“Oh stop, brain freezes are not real,” you giggle, a loud slurping sound coming from the bottom of your container as you finish off your drink.

It’s a crime how small these cups are.

“Explain the pain I’m enduring right now then,” Joe raises his brows, still rubbing his temples with his fingers in faux agony. You’re itching to find a way to get closer to him, and get his hands on you.

“Poor baby,” you pout dramatically, leaning over to kiss Joe’s forehead as you remove the plastic lid to your cup and fish out the cherry. Your attempt is fruitless, because Joe just does the same, gasping when he sees the contents.

“Oh what the fuck, I got a stemless one,” Joe points into his cup, showing the lone maraschino rolling around idly at the bottom.

“Lame,” you comment, biting off the red fruit at the end, rolling the dark red stem around your index and thumb when an mischievous idea pops into your brain. “Have you ever tried to tie it in a knot?”

Joe looks at you perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never tried to tie a cherry stem with your tongue?” You ask, feigning innocence. “Watch.” You put the cherry stem in your mouth, keeping your eyes right on Joe as you work the small string between your teeth and tongue. His expression darkens as his gaze fixates on the movements in your mouth, and you swear the temperature in the car shoots up ten degrees. The intensity of his stare eggs you on, and you’re sure to make a show of leaning over the center console when you’ve finished, sticking out your tongue to present the tied stem. Joe’s pupils are blown wide at this point, and when they flick up to yours, you blink your pretty lashes up at him before removing the stem.

“See? Not too hard,” you shrug. Joe scoffs at that, bringing a hand up to rub his sharp jaw. You can tell he’s debating, trying not to give in to your little game, but you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Joe rumbles, his gaze smothering your entire body before reaching your eyes again. “I should just drive you home.”

“You’ve been a gentleman Joe,” you affirm softly, reaching both hands out to rub his shoulders and land on each side of his jaw. “But I don’t want you to be a gentleman anymore.”

“Yeah?” Joe growls hesitatingly. “What do you want?”

“I want you to ruin me,” you whisper like it’s sin, breathless and so ready for him you can’t think straight. Joe shakes his head once and is immediately on you, pushing you back into the passenger seat with strong, feverous hands.

Your lips are nothing but pure heat, searing against his at every contact as he flips you around, sitting back against the seat and keeping you on top. You don’t mind, given that your hips are already helplessly bucking into his for any kind of friction you can get, until Joe places a firm hand on your hip to stop you. A whine biles up in your throat but you shove it down, telling yourself to be patient and he’ll give you what you need–because he always does.

Joe lets out a small chuckle as his full, open mouth leaves a trail of fire heading to your jaw, behind your ear and down your neck. His hold on your jaw demands you keep your head up, his thumb putting just enough pressure so you know if you attempt to put your head down, he’ll be there to prevent it. You try to just breathe, to control your desire in any way, but each time you think you catch a break, Joe’s on you again, tongue swirling, lips pressing, breath fanning across your sensitive skin until you can barley take it. You unintentionally buck your hips up again, and Joe tsks against your skin, continuing his assault. He hits a spot that makes your head fall with pleasure, but Joe’s grip is right there, keeping your brain foggy with submission and your neck completely exposed to him.

“Uh uh, we’re doing this my way, since you wanted to tease,” Joe’s grovelly voice consumes you. He finally lets your neck free, but before you can even process his next move you’re flipped around, your back to his front. Joe presses on your lower belly, your heart fluttering because he’s so close to touching you where you need it, but he simply locates the button on your shorts and lets it loose. Your stomach keeps doing somersaults as he quickly unzips them, and yanks them down to the floor of the car along with your pretty light pink lace panties. You finally realize what’s happening when Joe pulls down his jeans just enough to free himself, and adjusts the seat to recline backwards, you staying perched right on his lap. Every part of you needs him, but at the same time you’re not sure if you can handle the deliciously overwhelming heat of this moment.

Rough hands grip your hips, Joe’s fingers curling into your flesh as he slowly guides you down onto his cock. Every inch makes you dizzier, thinking it’ll never end until he finally bottoms out and you whimper, eyes crossing unwillingly because he’s so, so deep. You’re already starting to heave in your breaths, waves of pure pleasure rolling over you even when he’s just sitting there, unmoving inside your hot cunt. Joe suddenly adjusts his grip on you, squeezing your hips tighter before rolling them deliciously, and you feel his tip scrape across that one spot deep inside you that drives you insane. The friction is so intense, setting you aflame as your jaw goes slack and your hands shoot out to steady yourself against the dashboard.

A low groan comes from behind you, and before you can even think about collecting yourself Joe rolls your hips again, this time slower, longer, harder. A surprised moan falls from your lips, with short gasps quickly following as he keeps going, the teasing grinding slowly turning into full rhythmic bounces that shoot fireworks throughout your whole body.

Fuuuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Holy shit,” Joe moans with a slight shake in his voice, still feverishly setting the pace for you as the sound of your skin clapping against one another fills the rare silences between your breaths and moans. “You feel fuckin’ perfect. Look so pretty on my dick,” he gets out between grunts, and only then do you imagine how fucked out you must look from Joe’s point of view. Your perky ass at eye level, watching his thick cock disappear into your glistening, wet pussy with slippery ease. The curve of your waist accentuated by your dirty grinding movements as your hair falls free behind your back. A perfect, dainty, innocent bow wrapped around you, while your actions are anything but.

“God, I fucking love it,” Joe breathes out, moving one of his hands to your ass and squeezing the flesh possessively as you continue your movements. It stays there for a few moments, rubbing slowly, before it disappears. Somehow you know what’s coming.

Joe’s palm comes down on your right asscheek, not too mean, but hard enough that a sheet of pain cuts through you. The sharp sting sends a shiver through your body as it dulls, and you feel an undying heat claw its way up from your pussy to your chest and cheeks, making your heartbeat thud in your ears. An uncontrollable moan slips from your lips, and your face heats even further from embarrassment, like you just got caught. Because you know that at this moment Joe has complete control–and you love it. He could do whatever he wanted, and you’d respond the same way, back arching, fingers clawing, helplessly whining because it’s pushing you closer and closer. The spank is proof of that; a pain you should be flinching away from you’re leaning into, desperate for more, because it’s him. Knowing that same veiny, controlled hand that just landed on your ass could be curling around your throat, depriving you of oxygen, just because he feels like it. Because he likes to watch you struggle, and plead, and beg…just for him. And you’d happily comply, doing whatever he asked without question. Just because he wants you to.

You only wished you’d have seen his palm come down, making your flesh jiggle with a trace of a blotchy red five-star print.

“That’s my pretty girl,” Joe purrs from behind you with a taunting laugh, like he knows he just wrecked you. “So pretty when you let me play with you how I want. What’s your color baby?”

You quick to recall the color system both of you talked about earlier in the week. You wanted to know each others’ limits, have a good way to communicate during sex and a safe word was just a little too general. Green means go, yellow means pause, and red means no, full stop.

“Green,” you whimper meekly as Joe starts slamming you harder onto his cock, yanking you down on every thrust. Your mouth still hangs open, your jaw shaking as desperate cries continue to fall from your lips uncontrollably. “So green.”

“You like it when I do what I want with you, huh? Being a very needy slut for me,” Joe’s hypnotic voice drones behind you, his words causing your cheeks to flush even further, because he’s right. Fuck, you never want him to stop. “I want you to say it,” he demands cockily, and you can hear the sly grin in his voice.

The embarrassment flutters through you like a shockwave, but eggs you on and pushes you closer towards the edge. You really would do anything he said. “I-I’m- fuck,” you try to repeat, half whining out of embarrassment and half caught up by Joe’s relentless pace, unable to get more than a few words out without it morphing into a pleasurable cry.

“Say it, or I’ll spank you again,” Joe’s gravelly voice cuts through the truck, reverberating back at you like an echo chamber. “Or do you want me to do it again? Would that get you closer, baby? I know you’re so close,” he taunts, the wolfish grin in his voice even clearer now that he’s teasing, dangling you in front of him before he swallows you whole.

“I-” you choke out, before you’re cut off by another particularly hard thrust, along with the image of him bringing his palm down on you again, leaving a red mark you’ll likely stare at in the mirror for days after. “Please Joe,” you start to beg aimlessly, hoping it satisfies him enough to not fucking stop.

“Please, what? Please let you talk, or please spank you again?” Joe asks, feigning confusion. He keeps dragging you down over and over again, so hard and deep at this point that you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Your brain is too fuzzy, too overloaded with searing heat and pleasure that Joe’s question leaves you. “Can’t decide?” Joe mocks, and your only response is helpless moans.

A sharp smack comes down on your ass, harder this time, the intoxicating cocktail of pain and pleasure almost sending you over the edge immediately. A strangled cry spills from your mouth and tears spring into your eyes, all of it too much and not enough at the same time. Joe lets out a dark chuckle and a deep groan when you clench around him, bucking his hips up as you practically go limp.

“Oh right, I forgot…I’m the one who makes the decisions, huh? You fucking love it when throw you around how I please,” Joe growls, and you start to go dizzy as you teeter on the edge of submissive oblivion. You’re so full of him, so pliant, and you just need his final word. “Don't worry your pretty little head about it, baby. Just take it like the very good girl you are, and I’ll make you feel so, so good, okay?” Joe promises in his sweet, comforting voice that will always coax you right to orgasm. His hand slips forward on your hip, coming to your clit to rub in demanding circles, and there’s nothing you can do but let your head tip back in ecstasy, practically drooling, legs shaking. Because he’s making you feel so, so good.

“Yes,” you manage to whine, breathless. “Please.”

“It’s okay gorgeous, you can cum,” Joe hums. Your orgasm crashes on you hard, Joe lifting his left hand to your waist for a better grip as your upper half starts to go limp above him. Your hand on the dash is your only sense of normalcy as the rest of your inhibitions fly out the window, overshadowed by the gut-punching heat that barrels through you. Every sound that leaves your mouth is incomprehensible, broken encouragements with Joe’s name sprinkled throughout, because he’s just fucking you right through it.

“Ah-” Joe lets out a mangled groan as you relentlessly clamp down on him, your heat overwhelming him in ways he didn’t think was possible. He watches as you gush around his dick, your arousal slowly streaming out of you and smearing down the inside of your thighs and the tops of his. “Right on my cock where you belong,” Joe moans as he relishes it, your absolute submission to him, not a care in the world or a thought in your head as you let him own you in every way. The thought of that, that you’re all his, sends him over the edge right after you. He continues to ram himself up into your pussy until his warm white cum joins yours on your thighs, sticky, but a promise.

You’re all his now.

Soft pants crowd the car as you both come down, the fog on the windows like some kind of movie scene causing you to laugh in your head. One of Joe’s comforting palms starts to slide up the exposed part of your back and under your shirt, scratching lightly before falling back to your hip. You turn your head back to face him for the first time since you got into your current position, and you’re happy when you see his pretty blue eyes are glazed over, broad shoulders loose and pale skin flushed.

“Hi handsome,” you greet him with a smile, as if it’s been a while since you last spoke. His gaze softens too.

“I missed your pretty face,” Joe mumbles, rubbing your thighs a few times before starting to carefully lift you off him. Both of you wince at the overstimulation, a shudder wracking through you when cool air is exposed to your slick thighs. Joe leans towards the backseat where he finds clean napkins that will have to do for now, and you both try to clean yourselves up as best you can. He pulls a lever to slowly bring the seat back to an upright position, kissing your shoulder as he leans down to pull up his boxers and jeans.

“You okay? It wasn’t too hard, was it?” Joe quips as he buttons his pants, smoothing his palm over your right asscheek with a soft touch while you start pulling up your shorts and panties. He shimmies out from under you so you have more space, awkwardly maneuvering his long body back into the driver's seat.

“I think you know I liked it,” you mutter with a shy laugh, opening up the vanity mirror above your head to smooth out your hair. Your cheeks are still pink, makeup definitely awry, so you lick your finger and try to smooth away some of the mascara that fell and foundation that creased.

“You really liked it,” Joe grins widely, leaning over the center console and placing a few playful kisses on your jaw to make you giggle. “Started squeezin’ me so hard I thought I was gonna cum right then and there, Jesus Christ.”

You let out a surprised laugh as you close the mirror, your eyes screwing shut for a moment before locking back on Joe who’s starting the car back up and cracking the windows slightly to let some fresh air in. You’re both still stuck in the afterglow, the ghost of a smile not quite leaving either of your faces yet. It’s the usual afterglow of sex, yes, but there’s something different in the way Joe’s hand twitches on the gear shift, before finally sliding into your palm, intertwining your fingers and letting your joined hands fall into your lap. You feel it in your cheeks, and your chest. A poking, prodding, teasing feeling that maybe this could last, and that you want it to last. Then you realize it isn’t necessarily the addition of anything new, but the absence of something you thought you’d never get rid of.

Uncertainty.

Even after two years with Cam you felt like you never really knew. Were never one hundred percent sure that it wasn’t just about convenience, or the chase…or your body. You never thought that feeling–the itch that it may all be a lie–could simply vanish.

But Joe didn’t give you a chance to second guess. There was no fog, mixed signals, or backhanded remarks that ran a razor thin line between locker room talk and real life. He made it abundantly clear all night: he just wants you. It’s that simple.

It catches you so off guard you’re not sure what to say the rest of the ride home, too afraid you’ll choke on the emotion or blurt something stupid out to make it go away. But Joe doesn’t seem to mind, only carefully watching the road, sneaking glances at you when there’s a lull in traffic. So funnily enough, you don’t mind the silence either.

When you eventually pull into your apartment complex, you don’t really want to say goodbye, but you know you probably should. Joe has yet to wake up to an apartment full of your three loving, but invasive roommates, and subjecting him to that right after your first date seems like cruel and unusual punishment. “Thank you for tonight,” you sigh softly, pulling your joined hands up to your lips and kissing the back of Joe’s hand. “I mean, for everything. Best date ever. I can’t wait to go on more,” you practically gush, your grin already growing at the thought of feeling like this every night.

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Joe declares with an attitude, leaning over the center console slightly to lock eyes with you. He’s still the picture of peace and poise, seemingly just as relaxed with you as you are with him. “Wait ‘til I can impress you with my trivia skills.”

“Oh yeah?” You smirk. “And what about my karaoke skills? I bet I have you beat there.”

“You can take that one. I don’t sing.”

“You don’t sing?” You gasp, your eyes widening and mouth falling agape. “Joe. It’s karaoke.”

“And I’m sure you sound beautiful,” Joe chuckles, bringing his other hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, letting his pointer finger and thumb hold your chin on the way back down. “It’s just not my scene,” he shrugs as he leans closer. His scent invades your space again and you go dizzy, his musk drawing you in like you need him to breathe.

“We’ll see about that,” you whisper just before your lips meet, soft, slow, unhurried. Every ounce of tension in your body releases with his touch, and you swear you’re floating like a feather, with Joe’s arms the softest place you could possibly land. It feels like five minutes, was probably five seconds, but either way you pull away too soon, soft smiles on both of your faces.

“Goodnight pretty girl,” Joe mutters, still cradling your face with a tender hand, like he can’t let go quite yet.

“Goodnight Joey.”

It’s a frigid night for deep south Mississippi, a chill you haven’t felt in a long while creeping up your spine despite Coach Kandace’s generous decision to let you cheer in your bright purple jackets and athletic pants. The fabric still clings to you for mobility and misogynistic purposes, but at least the fleece-cotton blend is another layer on top of your paper thin compression shirt that’s supposed to be good enough for cold games like these. Besides, once you get to cheering, you’re sure you’ll warm up in no time.

Vaught-Hemingway Stadium is bursting at the seams for primetime college football, and you’re happy to see LSU’s fans are travelling well, with the sea of red in the stands dotted with purple and yellow. It’s no doubt partially the result of your dominating win against Alabama, because since then LSU has officially claimed the #1 spot in the AP College Football Top 25 rankings, and Joe has become an overall favorite to win the coveted Heisman award–granted to the very best player in all of college football each season. Of course, there are still three more games to play, four if you compete in the SEC Championship as expected. Other players are still in strong contention with Joe, and anything could happen. Even one loss could result in the crumbling of an empire.

The sideline is generally quiet, but charged with energy. Each athlete, staff member, even the water boys are honing into their craft, finding that mindset on game day where nothing else matters except what’s in front of you. You try to catch a glimpse of Joe, because there’s just something about him when he’s on the field that not many get to see up close. Through a TV screen it’s certainly intimidating, but nothing you wouldn’t find out of the ordinary for someone so elite–he’s confident, poised, on the prowl. At eye level? He’s just…daunting.

You know to keep your distance, still stretching and shaking out your limbs when you find number 9 on a jersey. He’s by a bench with Ja’marr, who’s shaking his head and rubbing a towel across his arms, like he’s wiping off sweat. You furrow your brows when you see Joe’s facial expression, bewildered and scolding as he chews out his wide receiver. The thought that they could be arguing on the sideline right before the game makes your stomach lurch, nerves spraying throughout your body, but you tell yourself it could be nothing. Just a heated discussion on the game plan, Joe trying to show Ja’marr some tough love.

Grace pulls you away from your quiet observations, running down the list of cheers she’s decided on for kickoff, since you’ll have to do quite a few in quick succession to get the game going. Her orders filter through you, filing away in the back of your mind as you tune in to the rumble of the stadium, the subtle, barely-there vibration of the ground that you can only feel in the tips of your toes. Crowd noise clogs your ears when the special teams players take their positions for kickoff, spectators and fans alike jumping and hollering in anticipation. You yourself turn and gawk when Grace calls “break,” your feet automatically bouncing you up and down. Ole Miss isn’t ranked, but they’re an in-conference opponent, which carries tremendous weight for the SEC Championship and the College Football Playoffs Selection Committee. Poms rustle, hands clench, and hearts pound as the sharp frequency of the referee’s whistle cuts through the air, and the Ole Miss kicker boots the ball down to the 14 yard line.

The entire stadium pulses as the LSU offense takes the field, dealing out short runs and checkdown passes while the Ole Miss secondary focuses on taking away Joe’s deep shot options. Forever calm under pressure, Joe always takes his best read, the one that will get him a first down, even if it’s not the flashiest. Just as you suspected, the offense is all the way down at the Rebels’ 35 when they start adjusting to the underneath passes, leaving Ja’marr one-on-one on a go-route to the endzone. Joe climbs the pocket to evade the pass rush and lobs the ball, Ja’marr speeding around the cornerback so fast he falls flat on his face. Touchdown, Tigers.

A cheer automatically leaves your lips, though you can barley hear it over the hefty away crowd and routy LSU band. Your iconic touchdown cheer radiates through the crowd, and you throw your poms in the air, grinning ear to ear as you chant, “T-I-G-E-R-S! Tigers!” The quick score gives you hope that you won’t have to worry too much this game, at least not like you did last week with the heart stopping plays and mind-numbing emotional rollercoaster.

That spirit dampens when Ole Miss’s freshman quarterback, John Rhys Plumlee, takes the field and starts directing his elite rushing offense. As a thicker scrambling QB with an entirely run-based offense, he’s almost a perfect fit as long as he can complete a couple passes and keep the ball out of LSU’s corners’ hands. After a few promising first downs, the Tigers finally get the stop, and the Ole Miss kicker hits a classic Doink! off the uprights, which keeps you calm.

When Joe takes the field again he’s back on his checkdown bullshit, letting Clyde, or Justin, or whoever gets the ball to zip all around the field for yards after the catch. It gets them far enough down the field, but after Ja’marr drops a deep ball and Joe gets stuffed on an RPO, it’s not close enough for Cade York to nail the 48 yard field goal. Luckily after some of the scrappiest runs you’ve ever seen and a Plumlee ball that’s almost intercepted, the ball is back in Joe’s hands, and you’re rewarded with an 80 yard drive that ends in a Davis-Price touchdown. Now up 14-0, you feel yourself relax into the night a little more, your first quarter jitters finally being shaken off into sweat, smiles, and shaking poms. You catch a glimpse of Joe as he heads back to the sideline, but he looks as expected. Unflinching. Not too high, not too low. The boot. You suspect Ole Miss is the ant.

A sad, sad Rebels offense goes three and out, and just like a boot Joe keeps on squashing his ant, giving Ja’marr another deep touchdown on a two-play 73 yard drive. It almost doesn’t feel fair, but everyone’s jumping and hollering anyways, and you start laughing in disbelief. “That’s your man!” Tay screams in your ear, still bouncing around and throwing her poms up in glee. You just keep laughing, a smile permanently etched on your face as you spell out your striped mascot once again.

Matt Corral replaces Plumlee as a slightly more gifted air-strike QB, a desperate attempt by Ole Miss to keep the game somewhat in reach. The switch forces LSU to shuffle up their covers a little bit, but it doesn’t work in the Rebels’ favor for long, and they’re soon punting the ball away again. The mistakes keep piling on for Ole Miss, from giving up a deep ball on 3rd and 3, to penalties, to tripping over themselves when Joe scrambles out of the pocket, allowing him another ten yard run. Another touchdown, this time by Justin, is just another nail in the coffin. The Tigers prance around the field with practiced ease, but no matter how loud the band plays or how rowdy spectators get, their faces resemble those of stone cold soldiers. This is strictly business.

Warmth is welcome and your cheeks are rosy until Ole Miss reverts back to their run game with Plumlee, different rushers bursting through the D-line on every play until they score a touchdown. You’re not concerned, but the score reminds you of the prickly air surrounding you that’s gotten significantly cooler since the start of the game. You glance at the scoreboard, seeing the temp is now the high 30s, and breathe out through your mouth just to see the cloud of your breath circulate. Your jacket keeps your body heat close, while your exposed nose, ears and fingers start to prick with slight numbness.

Helmets get shoved on and off on the sideline as players prepare for the personnel swap, and you unintentionally catch Joe’s attention as he grabs his helmet. It’s surprising his eyes find yours through the crowded area, so you offer him a light smile and discreet thumbs up as another shiver runs down your spine. Joe’s mouth quirks slightly, until it falls again, this time his eyes narrowing into slits as if he’s scrutinizing something behind you.

Huh?

Your brows furrow, and you throw your hands up in a shrug to ask him what’s wrong, but he just shakes his head and gets ushered back onto the field by another player.

Weirdo. Focus on the game.

It doesn’t take much for Joe to get back into it, and before you know it, the Tigers are back in the red zone. After Joe takes a late hit out of bounds that nearly causes your heart to give out, the offense gets stopped at the goal line, but takes the field goal to make it 31-7 at the half.

Sweaty players whizz by you towards the locker room, as all the Tiger Girls take swigs of water in preparation for your tumbling passes. In the distance, you see a player break off from the mob and head towards you. You squint to see the number 9 imprinted on the front, then furrow your brows in confusion because why is Joe doing something so out of character? He doesn’t talk to anyone except his team during games.

Joe stalks towards you with purpose, his demeanor still hard, but a bright purple mush of fabric with a yellow cotton pom is gripped tight in one of his hands. When he’s finally within speaking distance, you open your mouth to question him, but are immediately silenced by him shoving the wool over your head.

A beanie.

Joe grips each side of the thing, firmly tugging down so the fabric covers your ears and almost droops over your line of sight. There’s immediate warmth and relief, the wind now doing little to prick at your numbbed skin. You stare at Joe who towers over you, too caught off guard to conjure up some quick words. “Gonna freeze,” he huffs, his voice low, clipped, and hoarse. He’s immediately gone after that, blending back into an overwhelming sea of white uniforms.

You stare ahead for a few moments, not at all used to getting attention from game time Joe, until you finally snap out of it and readjust the soft hat on your head. Your cheeks burn delightfully, looking around with a guilty smile as if you forgot where you were for a moment–100,000 spectators around, prime time Saturday night College Football, two SEC teams going head to head with a ticket to the championship on the line. At some point between when you locked eyes with Joe and now, the spectacle faded away and there was only…him.

How does he keep doing that?

Once your lovesick grin finally subsides to a ghost of a smile, you can finally start going through the motions of halftime. Tumble. Wave. Throw some T-shirts. Dance with Mike, the mascot. Don’t forget to smile! It’s all so practiced, and you slip into it with little effort.

Once the game starts back up, Ole Miss comes out hot and ready, back on their run game bullshit. They plow down the field, and Plumlee finds wide open green to nail a 46 yard rushing touchdown with two extra points. You’d say it makes you nervous, but given how effortlessly the offense has been scoring, you know the momentum remains with LSU.

Joe takes over after that, and starts out the drive running straight into a ref on a designed QB draw. The older man flops flat on his back, and everyone in the crowd reacts accordingly with gasps, groans and laughs. Your jaw drops and you unwillingly snicker as Joe immediately walks up the the referee after the play, both of them laughing and chopping it up. It’s all run game after that, the Tigers already trying to run down the clock and possibly even get Joe out of the game, even though it’s only halfway through the third quarter. They end up coming out of it with a field goal, which helps cushion the lead, but you suspect Coach O wants one more touchdown before Joe comes out.

Especially when Plumlee gets another touchdown right out the gate on Ole Miss’s next possession. You groan to yourself, the play looking identical to the one he scored on last drive. “Come on, guys,” you mutter to yourself when the Rebels make the two point conversion again, the score deficit decreasing to 34-23. LSU needs a touchdown, bad.

Luckily the Tigers only need three plays to get back in the red zone, and one lazer to Justin to get another seven points. When Plumlee takes the field again, LSU’s defense has finally adjusted to Ole Miss’s run game and gets them on a 3rd and 7, forcing Plumlee to drop back and pass. DBs swoop in on his weak point, Kary Vincent Jr. jumping up to intercept the ball and run it up to about midfield. It results in an absolute boot from Cade York, the 52 yard field goal making the score 44-23 in favor of LSU.

You shift your weight back and forth as you start to get anxious about when they’ll finally take Joe out. You can’t imagine anything worse than him getting this close to all of his dreams coming true, only for it to be squashed by a stupid fourth quarter injury when you’re already up by twenty.

Ole Miss gets held up on downs, and Joe comes out for what you hope is his last drive, until Ja’marr trips on a scramble drill and causes Joe to throw a pick.

Well, he won’t let that be his last play, you think to yourself. Being pretty sure of a win is fun until it turns into a dick measuring competition, and without being directly on the sidelines, you can never tell if they’re going to keep being cocky, or put in the backups and let the final score be a little closer than it would be. Don’t be stubborn, Joe!

What you fear ensues, because that same damn reverse field run play trips up the defense again, and Plumlee cruises into the endzone. Not only that, but when Joe gets the ball again, it’s only a few plays later when he gets fooled by Ole Miss’s coverage and throws another pick, this one entirely his doing.

No!

Your fingers thread through your hair under your beanie in frustration, and you reel for a few moments before tugging it back on with force. Very quickly the momentum has turned on its head, especially with the home crowd in favor of the Rebels, and essentially no answer from the Tiger’s defense on Ole Miss’s run plays. You can only look at Joe’s razor sharp, tight expression for a few seconds before you have to look away. You’ll get too upset, and won’t be able to focus on Grace’s calls. You just wish you could run over there and tell him everything will be okay, but that would be utterly ridiculous and dramatic.

He can do this.

Ole Miss’s drive is all grit from both sides of the ball, a hard fought tug of war that keeps getting rougher until eventually Ole Miss gets a holding call on a 3rd and 7. Coach O accepts the penalty instead of making it fourth down, likely hoping the ten yards will push the Rebels out of field goal range. 3rd and 17 turns into an incomplete, and you hold your breath on fourth down, practically letting out a cry of joy when Plumlee misses his receiver by a long shot.

With about six minutes left, there isn’t much hope for Ole Miss so long as LSU can get one last score. A now collected Joe takes the field, doing his due diligence and handing off the ball to Clyde in order to run the clock. On an eventual third down, Joe drops back and fires a short dart across the middle to Ja’marr, who ends up breaking free and making a long run to the endzone. Not the flashiest of touchdowns, but you breathe out your final sigh of relief, knowing you can cruise through the final five minutes regardless of the garbage time touchdowns.

When the clock hits zero LSU takes it 58-37, and you’re immediately launched into pack-it-up-and-go mode, gathering every essential for your five hour bus ride back to Louisiana. The girls all chat as the already pretty empty stadium starts to completely clear out aside from the media swarming the field.

“I’m going to say congrats,” Grace beams, getting up on her tippy toes to find Justin amongst the cameras and microphones. “Come with!” She chirps, hooking her arm through yours and tugging you along before you can protest. You smile, starting to do the same funny waddle until you see a familiar blonde break from the quieting mob.

“I see Joe!” Grace gasps and whisks you both towards him, Joe’s head perking up at the mention of his name. His alert expression softens when he sees you, and you feel the silliest smile creep up on your lips.

“Great job,” you cheer, going in for a short, simple, football-padded hug.

Joe scoffs against your ear, and you can practically feel the eye roll. “Yeah, awesome interceptions there at the end, huh? On back to back drives, too,” he grumbles sarcastically, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing tight before letting go shortly after.

“You had five passing touchdowns. 58 points didn’t go up on the board just like that,” you remark pointedly, keeping your hands on your hips so you don’t just grab him and yank him towards you for a kiss.

“I know,” Joe sighs. “Just wish I finished stronger.”

Justin finds his way towards you now, him and Grace launched into their own post game bubble just like you. It reminds you of the beginning of the game, when you saw Joe and Ja’marr chopping it up on the sideline. “You know I saw you and Ja’marr on the sideline before the game…looked like you were talking about something serious,” you trail off, not exactly sure what you’re asking.

Joe looks confused, until something clicks and he just starts laughing. “Oh, that. Ja’marr had on this weird Warm Skin stuff? It’s like vaseline that’s supposed to keep you warm. I told him to take it off or I wasn’t gonna throw him the ball,” he explains.

Your mouth drops. The dramatics with these boys. “What? Why?!” You laugh incredulously.

“The ball’s gonna slip out of his arms! Plus, I don’t want that shit getting on the ball, then I’m the one who has to be handling it the rest of the game? It would throw everything off, like playing in the rain with a wet ball or somethin’,” Joe complains, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “It’s forty degrees, not negative ten. He doesn’t need Warm Skin.”

“Oh, so I need to keep warm, but Ja’marr has to suffer?” You tease, pointing to his beanie on your head.

“Ja’marr will survive,” Joe waves him off, then points a finger at you. “You are my princess, and I’m sworn to protect you from the evils of this world. Like wind chill.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but your expression betrays you, your lips curling into a smile unwillingly. Joe just smirks, looking at you pointedly until Grace steps in.

“Ooo can we get a picture, please? I’m making a little album of this season and I forgot to take any before the game,” Grace frowns, finding a stray Tiger Girl and tapping her shoulder for the picture as the boys try to hide their sighs, begrudgingly getting closer together and putting the stadium to their backs. You slide in next to Joe, him pulling you in by your shoulder until you’re flush against him, so you let your free hand fall onto his abdomen. Grace and Justin fall into a similar pose, and all of you grin for the camera.

“One silly one!” Grace calls out, as she does essentially every time you’re taking pictures. Joe is quick to stick out his tongue and give you bunny ears, and you’re not quite sure what to do, so you just throw both arms around his middle in a dramatic hug and act as if you’re mid-chomp on his face. You all end up laughing at the weird shit you came up with on the fly, likely resulting in some cute candids.

After your photo excursion the high of the game starts to wear off, and you’re dog tired as you change and swipe off your makeup. Grace sends you the pictures, but you forget to look at them until you’re on the bus, curled up in Joe’s sweatshirt and about five minutes from sleep. You’re clicking through Instagram stories aimlessly when Grace’s pops up, three different pictures that look like they were taken seconds apart. First your posed one, then the silly one, then a candid of the four of you throwing your heads back in laughter. Each one makes you smile harder, and you giggle out loud when you go back to the goofy picture to take another look at Justin’s disco pose.

Joe’s hard chest is under you, the glow from his own phone radiating right by yours while you both aimlessly scroll before nap time, and you nudge him slightly to get his attention. You smile at the pictures together, Joe pointing out Justin’s pose again, before Joe tells you to send the flicks to him too.

“I’m gonna repost this one,” you mumble to yourself, finding Grace’s mention in your DM’s and pulling up the silly photo. You add the caption, “Who did it best, Justin or John Travolta? 🤨” and upload it to your own story, settling into Joe’s shoulder and letting your eyes drift shut shortly after.

When you wake hours later, the bus is eerily quiet. It feels like something dragged you awake, pushing a gasp to the front of your lips as if you were running from something, though your sleep was utterly dreamless. The hum of the air conditioning drones on, drowning out the tired breaths of everyone else on the bus, no doubt asleep or at least trying to be.

You pull your phone from your sweatshirt pocket, checking the time is 3:13am. You almost put your phone away after that, ready to shake off whatever gross feeling creeped its way into your brain until an Instagram notification makes you squint.

You have a pending DM from an account you don’t follow.

The message makes you frown, because it’s one you don’t get often. Probably just some bot looking for a “brand ambassador” or something.

You click on the notif, and freeze when you read the very real message that is certainly not from a bot.

Replied to your story

@camlockeduup: lmao classy.

@camlockeduup: slut

Your stomach twists, that odd feeling you got when you were startled awake intensifying ten fold and balling up in a pit.

What, ‘cause I’m with your teammate? You cheated, dumbass!

Frustration, anger, and desperation claw up your chest, scratching at your throat until the emotion causes your eyes to flood. Tears don’t fall, but the wave of feeling crashes over you hard. It feels like wherever you turn Cam will just be there to haunt you, ruining every good thing that comes your way until you give up entirely and come limping back to him.

No. He can’t do this.

You furiously delete the message, screenshotting beforehand for some receipts just in case you need them, and click your phone off with a huff. Darkness engulfs you again, leaving you alone with your ruthless thoughts of self consciousness and fury. You suddenly remember Joe under you, his chest rising and falling calmly like late night waves on the beach, and let that calm you down.

Do I tell him? I don’t want him to freak out, you think to yourself, wondering if this is one of those things that make you too complicated. This is something you can handle on your own. You tell yourself you’re a big girl who can deal with her own baggage, and this is just part of moving on.

You don’t have too much time to grapple with it before you’re swimming in darkness again, dreams still out of reach from your frantic mind.

By Wednesday, Cam’s message is far from your mind. Nothing more than a stupid message from a stupid ex with a stupid delusional idea that you’d fall apart from it.

Besides, Joe’s good at distracting you from it, even if he doesn’t know it.

It’s how everyone is during the first few weeks, or even months of their relationship, googly eyed and swept off their feet. Even you can see it, feeling yourself go crazy with giddiness at the smallest gestures, but even so you can’t help it. Every part of you knows it’s all so cringe, that you look like a fool, and yet you persist, ignoring the remarkably obnoxious teasing from your friends.

It’s the small moments you catch between tough times, like now as Joe waits for you outside the facility so he can walk you to your first class. Morning workouts are gruesome, especially when you have a 9am right after, but here’s Joe, with a shy smile and dorky peace sign.

“Ready to go?” You ask with a bright smile, catching his calloused hand in yours and swinging it back and forth as you tug him towards your class.

“Yes ma’am,” he always replies, and you start your twenty minute trek across campus. It’s not much time, and it’s in the gaze of the public, what with the occasional freshman staring at Joe because he’s almost never on campus. But that time is yours, those short moments you get to catch up on classes, or Tay’s latest oddball hobby, or the newest novel your mom’s reading for book club. He’s always so attentive, with that same protective, watchful eye he always has for you and you only.

When you get to your classes building, you argue over who’s paying for the coffee until the cashier finally gives into one of your pleads, though most of the time Joe wins that battle. He hugs you goodbye and says he’ll see you in the evening, and as soon as he’s gone it always seems like it’s happened so fast.

But at least you get those moments. And you don’t have to think about Cam.

Until halfway through your three hour lecture, when the professor lets everyone take a ten minute break. You open your phone and see that dreaded message again.

You have a pending DM from an account you don’t follow.

A pang of worry spreads through you before you roll your eyes, clicking on the message so you can simply block him already. But, the message isn’t from Cam…

It’s from that girl. The one Cam cheated on you with, the one you found legs spread wide for him, the one that doted on him all game when LSU played Texas. You don’t know if you could ever forget her face, and it’s staring right back at you in her profile picture, overly tanned and overly burnt orange in that ugly Texas color. Your eyes widen and mouth hangs open as you read the message.

@lynsssmcd: could you leave my bf alone and stop with the mind games? you broke up months ago

@lynsssmcd: idk what your problem is

What?!

This gets you all kinds of fucked up. Leave him alone? All he’s done ever since he cheated is bother you, time and time again.

I’m not sure what twisted story Cam told you bitch, but it’s all kinds of wrong.

You don’t know what to do. Your first instinct is to ignore it and block, obviously, but should you respond? Help a girl out and let her know she’s being manipulated?

She knew he was cheating, she doesn’t deserve to know.

But would it at least save you the trouble? If she knows you’re just trying to live your life, maybe they’ll both just shut the fuck up and move on with their lives like you have. That is, if she even believes you.

…should you tell Joe?

One offhanded remark from an ex isn’t a big deal. But this isn’t either, right? People who don’t know your life, pretending that they do. Joe deals with that all the time, with random sportscasters dissecting his every move nowadays.

Again, you screenshot and delete the message, letting out a long sigh. You may have had slight malicious intent sleeping with Joe in the first place, but it’s evolved into something entirely different. You tell yourself you shouldn’t feel bad for that, that feelings will always find you eventually regardless of the situation. If Mission Rebound never happened, you still would’ve met him through Grace and Justin.

But this makes the guilt knaw at you. What if you aren’t a good person for finding him this way?

What would Joe say if he knew about these messages?

No, you snap at yourself. These people don’t know me.

And in Joe’s case, ignorance is bliss.

Death Valley is boiling with excitement for the number one team in the country, anticipating another quick killing of an unranked Arkansas team, but the only thing on your mind is your post-game plans.

Joe mentioned it so casually yesterday–how he’s happy his parents will be in town around Thanksgiving so he doesn’t have to drive himself home, how he’s been mentioning you to them every chance he gets, and finally how they invited you to dinner after the game. You’re good with parents, and the fact that Ja’marr and Justin were already invited helps, but you’re the girlfriend. They may think the timing is malicious, like you saw his draft stock climb and went hunting, or that cheer and dance is too ditzy, or that it isn’t smart for Joe to be with a junior mere months before he graduates.

Regardless, you’re determined to win them over. Or at least prove how much you care about Joe.

The game starts and you keep filtering through scenarios, thinking of the best responses to questions that won’t come off too shy, or too cocky, or too boring. During the first quarter Arkansas comes out strong with lots of energy and is able to hold LSU to a 7-3 lead, but by the end of the first half it’s 28-6. The game is so stagnant it feels like you blink and it’s gone, but that’s how casually the guys are playing. They’re just passing through before the real work begins with the SEC Championship, and hopefully the College Football Playoffs.

After two more touchdowns and no response from Arkansas, Joe gets pulled ten minutes into the third quarter and the game turns into a social event. Everyone on the sidelines is business as usual, but there’s a more relaxed tone. Even when the crowd roars it sounds like they’re just doing it because it’s the polite thing to do. You can’t even imagine how embarrassed Arkansas must feel right now, being tossed around like little rag dolls for everyone’s amusement.

As the somewhat forgettable game comes to a close, your heart races at the reminder of who you’ll be encountering soon. You tell yourself to breathe, to just be yourself and smile, but it’s really all this agonizing waiting that’s getting to you. Once you’re in the thick of it, sat at the table with topics to discuss and jokes to laugh at, everything will be fine–it’s now, the build up, the anticipation, the wondering that makes you doubt.

You feel like you barley talk to anyone as you routinely exit the field, blinders on while you clean yourself up as much as possible after a brutal, sweaty game. Joe told you beforehand that you didn’t need to worry about your outfit, because his parents obviously understand you’re coming from a game, but you just waved him off. So here you are pulling on jeans and a nice sweater, wiping off your game makeup and quickly replacing it with a little bit of concealer and mascara.

When you step out of the locker room Joe and Justin are already waiting. You immediately offer your congratulations on the win, stepping into Joe’s warm hug.

“Getting pulled in the third quarter? You guys really took care of business,” you comment with pride.

Joe laughs. “Yeah, there wasn’t much they could do,” he shrugs, leaning around the corner into the boys locker room. “Damn, Ja’marr. How long does it take to throw on some sweats?”

As if on cue, Ja’marr rolls out of the locker room seconds later, backpack full and body washed. “Can we go? I could eat a whole horse right now,” Ja’marr groans, walking past all of you while rubbing his stomach.

“We were waiting for you, dumbass,” Justin tsks, dragging his feet along after Ja’marr. Joe ignores the two and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you walk.

“You know, I told you you didn’t have to put on jeans,” Joe mutters to you teasingly, pressing a quick kiss to your hair.

“I know,” you huff. “But it’s my first time meeting them, I don’t want to be in sweats.”

“They’re going to love you,” Joe smiles, looking down at you. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not!” You nudge his stomach defensively.

Joe gives you a pointed look.

“Okay, I’m a little worried. But once we get past the introductions I’ll be fine,” you explain, unsure if you’re convincing Joe or yourself.

“Like I said, they’ll love you.”

You keep telling yourself that as you all make your way to the restaurant, a classic american joint that stays open far too late into the night for any drunk kids that happen to wander in. Or for families of athletes that can’t get together until after 10pm, you suppose. Baton Rouge still feels alive with energy after the decisive victory, with many students and fans hitting up downtown for a postgame celebratory beverage or two, or…ten. You scan the parking lot of the place for any familiar faces, but you see none. They must be inside already.

When you walk in, the atmosphere is building, especially at the bar section. It’s not extremely high class, with sparkling water and a black tie waiting staff, but it’s no Dearman’s either. A casual in-between. Joe finds his folks pretty easily at the entrance, both his mom, dad, and a couple other older relatives you don’t recognize all beaming with pride for their youngest son. Joe hugs each of them while Justin and Ja’marr opt for firm handshakes, and finally there’s you.

Here goes nothing!

“Hi,” you step in to greet Joe’s mom first, offering her your name. “I’m Joe’s girlfriend.” You keep a light smile and an even tone, grateful for the commotion and greetings around you so you don’t have all the attention on this moment.

“Hi sweetie, I’m Robin!” The woman cheers with a smile, opening her arms for a hug that you gladly accept.

That’s a good sign, right?

“It’s so good to meet you, we’ve heard so much about you,” Robin continues. “This is my husband, Jimmy.” Joe’s dad gives you a short one handed hug, much like his son in the way that he’s not overly outgoing like Robin.

“Mom,” Joe mumbles like a child, shamelessly eavesdropping on your conversation and joining in.

“I’ve heard lots about you both, too,” you reply with a giggle. “Joe’s so lucky to have such supportive parents,” you add, hoping you’re not laying it on too thick. That would be ridiculously cringy, but you really do mean it. Not everyone has parents with the care, time, or resources to be flying around the country for every game.

A hostess starts directing you to your table as Robin keeps the conversation going. “Oh we’re just so happy for him, you know?”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Jimmy adds with a nod, everyone starting to settle into their seats. You end up sitting between Joe and Ja’marr, with Ja’marr at the end of the table and you and Joe towards the middle. Robin and Jimmy sit across from you, and Justin plops down across from Ja’marr, with a couple uncles and one of Joe’s cousins on the other end of the table.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Joe grumbles, quickly opening his menu and scanning it to hide the blush on his cheeks.

“I mean, it was a heck of a game tonight,” you shrug, picking up your own menu as well. “All of you look super synced up.”

“Felt like I was playing backyard ball to be honest,” Ja’marr nods. “Good to get one like that in before we’ve gotta play Georgia and these other top teams. Hopefully.”

“Y’all definitely make it look like backyard ball,” Jimmy chuckles and shakes his head. “I don’t even know what these defenses are even doing half the time ‘cause you get the ball out so quick. Sometimes they’ll start man and drop to zone, but even then-”

They go on for a couple minutes about the game, breaking down specific plays and reliving each of the receivers’ touchdowns. You feel like you can finally breathe now that you’re past the hard part, sinking into your seat and letting your shoulders drop. When you let out a long, soft sigh of relief under your breath, Joe flicks his eyes to yours and finds your hand under the table. His grasp is soft, warm, and when he squeezes your hand a wave of comfort washes over you. Like he’s saying, See? You’re doing it. It’ll all be great. I’m so happy right now.

Eventually the conversation does get back to you, but you’re ready to be in the hot seat. You’ve learned that the only thing that can help you when you’re under pressure is preparation, and you know exactly how to speak what you mean. Robin asks about the Tiger Girls, the events you all do and the work that goes into it. Jimmy’s interested in your major and career path, impressed with your passion for law and the ways in which it can be used to help people instead of harm them. You ask them questions in between too, learning about Joe’s hometown of Athens, Ohio and some goofy stories from when he was growing up. Apparently spiders are Joe’s worst nightmare.

“Truly, until he went to college, I was the one who had to get rid of any spider he saw in the house,” Robin reveals with a laugh, popping another french fry into her mouth.

“Oh brother that’s wild,” Justin cackles.

“I’m glad we haven’t run into that issue yet,” you giggle, eyes widening because there’s no way you’re going to become the next spider exterminator.

“I can do it now,” Joe defends himself. “I just didn’t want to do it if I didn’t have to.”

“Sure,” Ja’marr deadpans before taking a bite from his burger.

“You know, son,” Jimmy starts with an authoritative hand. “You’re supposed to be the man of the house, doing the dirty work for your lady.”

“Honey, no one says ‘man of the house’ anymore, that isn’t very progressive,” Robin interrupts. You and Joe bust out laughing at her attempt at feminism, while Jimmy shrugs.

“Oh, you know that’s not what I mean,” Jimmy waves her off, explaining further, “You know I used to get your mom a bouquet of flowers with the morning paper every Monday, and always helped her take off her shoes when she got back from work.”

“Until we got married and I told him he was wasting both of our money getting 52 bouquets a year,” Robin shakes her head with a smile.

“I definitely know what you mean Jimmy,” you assure him. “My mom has always hated cutting her steak, especially when there’s a ton of fat on it, and to this day my dad will cut hers for her before he even touches his food. It’s adorable.”

“Oh, that is so cute,” Robin coos, jutting her bottom lip out.

“You boys better get on that,” Jimmy points at Joe and Justin.

“Trust me, he treats me well,” you smile at Joe, placing a soft hand on his broad shoulder. He turns and grins softly back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges as his lips curl further into a full smile. You admire his strong features, forever weak to the boyish look about him after a game and a shower, until you realize you’ve definitely been staring at each other too long. Your cheeks burn under the attention from not only Joe, but now the rest of the table as they watch you stare at each other like fools.

“Here they go again,” Ja’marr groans with dramatic eye roll. The table laughs at his tactic to break the ice, turning everyone’s attention back to discussing plans for Joe to go back to Ohio for Thanksgiving.

It feels homey being secluded in the far back corner of the restaurant, in the only section where there’s a table long enough to fit your entire group. In all honesty you’re grateful for the dim lights, quieter music, and cozy atmosphere, and you’re sure everyone else in the joint is happier too, because you’re all laughing so loud you’ve got to be disturbing someone. By the time you’ve all decided to call it a night, you’ve learned the names of everyone at the table and spoken with them all. Everyone is as kind, attentive, and charismatic as Joe, and you no longer wonder how he got to be so level headed.

It’s so perfect, so wonderfully cozy and warm, but of course your luck has run out.

“She was so wild that dog! I mean every single day she’d run up on that mailman and tackle him down where he stood,” Joe’s Uncle Doug laughs heartily, recalling a memory from when him and Jimmy lived next to a man they called Crazy Eddie. “What was her name, dammit..” he trails off as you stroll through the parking lot, each of you making your way to your separate cars.

“Lindasy!” Jimmy cheers once he remembers. “Lindasy, that was it.”

You freeze.

Lindsay.

The name of Cam’s new girlfriend. The one who DMed you mere days ago, attempting to guilt trip you into some kind of confession or apology. Suddenly you feel like you could upchuck the burger you just ate, recalling the conversation you had at the table about how you and Joe met. Leaving out details, you simply explained that you met through mutual friends, molded through Grace and Justin’s relationship, and eventually Joe asked you out.

You wonder what Robin would think of you if she knew it was originally a revenge plot against another player on the team. That you’d been cheated on, disposed of like a piece of trash before you met Joe while coming back from your lowest point in life thus far.

This is the guilt trip talking, you tell yourself. I deserve someone like Joe.

But saying is easier than believing. And you’re not quite sure you believe yourself yet.

You plaster on a smile as you hug everyone goodbye, piling into Joe’s truck again. You try to breathe, looking out at Baton Rogue with tired eyes and conversating best you can with the boys when they ask you questions. Hopefully they chalk up your unresponsiveness to exhaustion.

You know it’s far from the ache in your legs and the migraine pulsing in your forehead that causes you to shut your eyes, and shut down.

Going home helps. Even if it’s for all of 48 hours. Something about driving down roads you know like the back of your hand, tasting the smooth ice cream from your favorite parlor as a kid, and rambling with your mom about what the hell to get dad for Christmas reminds you that you know who you are. It doesn’t absolve you of all pain and guilt, but it makes you feel grounded. Safer. To take extra precautions, you block both Cam and his ex, and take a vow of Instagram silence. If you take a break, you know you’ll be able to bounce back quicker.

It’s all just words on a screen.

You miss Joe more than you thought was possible. You’ve gone one or two days without seeing him sometimes at school, out of sheer business and fatigue, but the physical distance between you makes your heart ache. About an hour into being home, you find your thumb already hovering over his contact when you remember he said he’d be out with his high school buddies that night, and would call you when he got home (which he did). You thought to yourself, Well this sucks.

You suppose this is something you’ll have to get used to with Joe. Living through your phone, wondering when either of you will have the free time to call. After all, he’ll likely head back to Ohio after the season is over, and remain there through the combine and the draft while you’re finishing up junior year. Maybe this would be easier if you weren’t so damn insecure about everything all the time, even though Joe’s been nothing but amazing to you. You just can’t seem to shake Cam’s words…the way he treated you when you were together. It all seemed so normal at the time.

At the Thanksgiving dinner table, you feel like you’re put in the hot seat. Your family likes to keep things small, just your mom, dad and younger sister Maddie, but everyone has everything to say about Joe–especially because they’re heading down to Death Valley for the final game of the regular season. By the time you’re finished, you’re sure the three of them could write a biography on him from birth to present. Your dad nods along, but still seems apprehensive at the idea of you dating someone going into the NFL, saying, “Well, you know what they’re like honey…I just don’t want you to get hurt again…”

You just nod your head. “Joe is different. Trust me.”

You just hope you can trust yourself long enough, before either of you runs.

Practice. Pop quiz. Poms. Paper. Pillow. Repeat.

That’s about to become your life now. An endless cycle of preparation for the hardest academic semester you’ve ever faced, and one of the biggest events of you life up to this point. The UDA National Championship is the biggest dance event of the college season, and while LSU tends to be known for their stellar hip hop performances, you’ve only placed 5th and 3rd while on the team. It truly comes town to tenths of points, making extreme focus throughout the entire routine absolutely essential. You need to be on the same page as your entire team for every second, every step, every slight movement of this dance.

Of course there’s also your rigorous course load. Not only do you need to keep your record squeaky clean in order to compete at Nationals, but you’re going to have to start applying to law schools before you know it, and you plan on finding somewhere that has money to give you. Your GPA will likely be the first place they look.

Finally, there’s football. You feel like you haven’t been able to take a step back and breathe at all, what with all the insane romantic drama that’s constantly suffocating you. So when you arrive back in Baton Rouge the day before senior night, the final game of the regular season, Joe’s final game in Death Valley, you do. Between a short noon practice and burying your nose in notes to get a head start on next week, you stroll over Joe’s apartment, wanting to take time with him to slow down after not seeing each other since before the short break. He’d already texted you to come see him as soon as you could anyways.

On your walk, you find yourself reminiscing on the inexplicable season LSU has had. They’ve become one of the most explosive, productive offenses in all of college football history, with star talent all across the roster. Joe blended into the background last season, but it’s clear now he was just dusting off the cobwebs, because he’s already broken school wide records, and has the chance to challenge those set in the conference if he keeps winning.

In the beginning, it was all in good fun. A nice change of pace to be winning such high stakes games. Now, you’re part of something much bigger, an organization that could be etched into history books.

You wonder what you from the Texas game would think.

She has no idea what’s coming.

You’ve memorized the code to Joe’s apartment at this point, punching in the numbers and sliding your shoes off as you enter his pristine abode. The space looks pretty dead, with the lights mostly off and only a few things scattered about, so you head down the small hallway.

Must be in his room.

“Joe?” You call out, softly knocking on his door. When you get no response you frown, twisting the door handle and slowly creaking the door open to reveal a very tired Joe, limbs sprawled and sheets strewn on his bed. He’s on his stomach, starfished with his strong back half exposed and a giant, messy flop of hair on his head. He barely looks up, clearly just now noticing your presence as his tired eyes start to sparkle.

He’s so cute I’m going to die.

“I missed you,” he croaks, attempting to lift one arm up to beckon you over, but it only lifts a few inches off the bed.

“Aww,” you audibly coo as you tiptoe into the room, sitting by Joe’s large body on the bed and threading your fingers through his crazy hair. You lean down and press your lips to his softly, letting his taste melt onto you for a few moments before regrettably pulling away. The smile can’t be taken off your lips if you tried, too caught up in how much you missed him, and how adorable he looks right now. “I missed you too, sleepy baby.”

“Yeah,” Joe replies, his voice groggy and words slurred as he scrunches and opens his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. “I finally finished that research paper so I don’t have to deal with it next week, and…next thing I know I fuckin’ crashed.”

You gasp at that. “Your very last college assignment ever? Yayyy!” You cheer somewhat quietly, running your fingers in his air down his neck and back to continue scratching.

“At long fucking last,” Joe groans, snuggling into his pillow a little more. He blinks a few times, deep in thought before he adjusts so he’s slightly sitting up on one of his elbows. He lets out a sigh before announcing, “Now it’s just football.”

Now it’s just football. And not much of it left. With that statement the energy shifts to something more nostalgic. That feeling when it’s not over yet, but you can already feel yourself missing moments from somewhere you can never go back to. Justin and Ja’marr bickering at lunch. When Tay and Kelia blasted Congratulations by Post Malone five times on the way back from the Alabama game. Finding Joe’s eyes on the sideline. Every time.

It hangs in the air for a minute. It’s almost hard to say.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Last one in Baton Rouge tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Joe repeats thickly. He pauses until a short chuckle leaves his throat. “It doesn’t feel real yet.”

You keep your eyes on him, watching as he tries to think it through. It’s like you can see him envisioning the moment. Looking out at the whole stadium, knowing he’ll never see it like that again…“I’m not gonna want to leave,” he confesses quietly.

“I know,” you sigh, trying to think of the future instead of acting like it’s already over. “You’re just leveling up. Onto bigger and brighter things.”

“I just feel so grateful. I’ve found everything here,” Joe admits, looking out his window onto campus until slowly, his gaze shifts to you. His bright blue eyes flow with emotion, searing honesty in them as he nods. “Everything.”

Tears spring to your eyes, your lips almost quivering as you try to swallow.

It’s not over yet!

You nod back, in complete understanding.

“Everything,” you whisper.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen this much purple and gold in your entire life. Fans flood in from every direction, every one of them gleaming with joy and stumbling over themselves out of excitement, intoxication, or both, clamoring to get just one look at the team that could 13-0 and win it all. There’s food, face paint, they’re even giving away some free booze, but once the Tigers start rolling onto the field, the metal barricades that prevent spectators from stepping out onto Death Valley get put to good use, and you stand guard as a jumpy, ditzy form of crowd control.

A warm front is passing through Louisiana, and part of you thinks it really is just for this team that the weather is so perfect. During pregame when it was 70 and sunny, you could see the pure happiness radiating off of everyone’s faces, from your fellow Tiger Girls, to the fans, to the players and coaches. Now that the night has fallen and you’re still not freezing your tail off, it’s clear as day this game will simply be a sweet, sweet celebration of everything this season has been, with a little bit of added revenge…

Last season’s rivalry weekend when LSU played A&M is a game you will never forget, the kind of story where you sit in your rocking chair and tell your grandkids like it’s an old wives tale. It had been A&M’s game for most of the night, but the Tigers hung on by a thread, and it paid off in the fourth quarter when they managed to force a fumble and recover it for a touchdown, followed by a passing touchdown from Joe. In the very final seconds, A&M scored a touchdown to force overtime…

Only, it wasn’t just one overtime.

The teams went back and forth starting at their opponent’s 25 yard line attempting to score for seven overtimes. LSU would score a field goal, then A&M would score a field goal. Then A&M would score a touchdown, but LSU would score one right back. This went on for what felt like forever. You remember your burning lungs and shaky legs as your captain kept calling cheer after cheer, until almost 1:00AM. You remember hearing multiple heaves of vomit from players on the LSU bench starting after the fourth go ‘round. Most of all, you remember the utter despair after A&M made that final two point conversion, taking the crown after a never ending cycle of cat and mouse.

Everyone took their makeup off in the locker room that night in complete silence. Even the Tiger Girls didn’t know what to say to cheer everyone up.

You certainly didn’t know what to say when you were one of the first ones out and got caught in the crossfire with the quarterback and medic bounding out of the boys locker room.

Joe was too woozy to acknowledge you–honestly you barely recognized him yourself until you saw his number. “Juice,” he heaved out, still in uniform, looking like he’d just come off the field.

“What?” You asked like a deer in headlights. You barely recognized your voice, you hadn’t spoken in so long, and the last time you did you were screaming for five hours straight.

He tried to lean against a bench and pointed offhandedly to a medic cart about ten feet away. “Apple juice. Please,” he spoke in broken sentences as his eyes almost rolled back, causing him to stumble against the wall.

You remember thinking, This guy’s gonna pass out! And heading straight for the cart like he said, grabbing a couple boxes of apple juice and a packet of Gatorade chews just to be sure. You delivered them promptly and watched, mostly concerned as he shakily stuck the straw in the juicebox and downed it in a few gulps, then moved to the next. It was then a medic came out scolding him and asking to conduct more evaluations.

“‘M fine. Just…sugar,” Joe replied, shaking his head and regaining a little strength. At least enough to lean against a wall. Kelia walked out then, and you headed for the bus with her. You told her the story of how you helped out the QB1, how it looked like he’d been through hell.

Of course stories circulated, and you eventually learned Joe had passed out cold in the locker room for a solid minute before he had his run in with you. To put in all that effort just for a loss…you can’t imagine something more brutal.

As a game with many controversial calls, fans will never forget it either. They’re just as excited for a revenge tour as the team is, the fact that it’s senior night is just the cherry on top.

Kickoff isn’t for another hour, but the Tiger Stadium is already jam-packed for senior ceremonies, where each senior will walk out of the tunnel and to their family who will be waiting for them, whilst an announcer lists their accolades and importance to the school. It’s an ongoing tradition to honor those who are leaving, and celebrate the work they’ve put into the program regardless of how long they’ve been playing at LSU.

This senior night specifically is a whirlwind of emotions for not just you, but fans, too. It’s clear everyone in the whole state of Louisiana has been anxiously waiting to commemorate the remarkable class that has whipped this LSU team back into shape, and brought copious amounts of pride back to fans’ hearts. You’ve seen all around the state random restaurants and billboards that say, “Let’s geaux Jeaux!” putting emphasis on Louisiana’s traditional Haitian Creole -eaux suffix, because they claim him now. The entire state welcomed a small town kid from Ohio into the bayou because he proved that he has the drive, the nerve, and the guts to fit in and get them where they want to be. A true leader. And they just want to thank him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Grace mutters from beside you, both of you stretching your limbs on the field and getting a feel for the space you’ll have during the game. You look at her somber expression, knowing exactly how she feels. Justin won’t get a senior send off tonight, but is opting out of his last season to declare for the draft. He hasn’t made the decision public yet, but his odds are very high to be drafted in the first round or two, so it makes sense. It’ll be his last game in Death Valley.

“Yeah, me neither,” you agree, the weight that’s been hanging in your chest falling deeper as you watch the final preparations be made for the seniors’ grand entrance. Family members start to walk onto the field in groups, each of them dressed proudly in LSU colors with the name or number of their designated player on it. Closest to the tunnel, not too far away, you spot Joe’s family, and catch Jimmy and Robin’s eyes in the process. You wave a smile politely, excited to see Joe’s constant support system back at it. They both give you the same courtesy, though the distressed look in Robin’s eyes makes you overthink your entire existence. Joe is the baby baby of the family, being born so late after his two older brothers, that you think Robin is just a little more protective over him than most. It makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

A man in a headset walks up to Grace then, instructing her that it’s time for our squad to take our spots by the tunnel, and your heart sinks further. She gathers everyone, and you start to form two lines off of the fans and reporters already waiting outside the funnelled entrance, making essentially a second human tunnel after the real tunnel. Joe said he wanted you with his family so you could hug him when he’s announced, but you told him you would find him right after–this is a big moment for him and his family, and you thought it may get you some extra brownie points with Boy Mom Robin if you give him some space. As a constellation, you told him you’d stand on the end of the tunnel so he could see you then, so you plant yourself at the end of the line.

When you look up and look around, it all hits you at once. You’re not sure what the team will be like next year. Hell, you’re not sure what your life will look like at all next year, especially if Joe is in the NFL and you’re applying for law school. But you know right now. The bright LEDs of Tiger Stadium beaming down on you, illuminating the bright, joyful faces of each and every person in the stands. A vibrant haze of purple and yellow coating every surface and stitch of clothing you can see, a strong united front being formed among those on the field and in the stands. The intangible bond of community that dances in the air, catching light in the subtlest of moments between faces that are familiar and unknown. You know, this is one heartbeat. This is home.

A knot forms tight in your throat as the announcer starts, calling each senior one by one. You cheer and clap as you’re told, jumping and smiling through the bittersweet pain that starts to rattle through your chest the closer and closer you get to having to hear Joe’s name get called, but the noise starts to drown out as you hear it: thump thump, thump thump, thump thump. One heartbeat, steady, still standing strong, but coming to a close in mere weeks.

“Number 9, the quarterback…Joe Burrow,” the announcer booms, and immediately everyone in the entire stadium is on their feet, clapping ferociously and hollering their heads off. The knot that’s been sitting in your throat starts to catch as the ground thunders, tears pooling in your eyes while you try to not choke through your cheering. A few fans and Tiger Girls start to bow, and a few of you laugh through your woops, joining in until everyone in a cheer uniform is bowing to the savior of LSU football, Joe. You see him jogging out, trying to remain stoic as ever, and when he gets towards the end of your line you pause your bowing and hold out a single hand. Plenty of people have their hands out, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement, but he whizzes past them. You lock eyes, and he smiles softly, slowing his jog to catch your hand and grasp it, almost pulling you with him as he drags away again and to his family.

That’s when you catch it.

His nameplate. Tonight, and perhaps every night since he’s been in Louisiana, he isn’t Joe Burrow.

He’s Joe Burreaux. Louisiana’s favorite LSU Tiger.

He got this made. He did it for them.

He’s given everything to this state because he’s loyal, and he loves it, and they sure as hell love him back. They’re just as grateful to him as he is to them.

The announcer continues listing his awards and accolades, proclaiming him the best player in college football, and you lose it. Tears roll down your face while the stadium just keeps booming, the applause never ending even as Joe finishes hugging his whole family, including a teary-eyed Robin. He faces the crowd as they go, throwing his thumbs to the back of his jersey as if to say, “This is for you!” And putting up two L’s with his fingers for LSU. He spins to face every part of his stadium, the thunderous applause carrying all the way into the picture of the entire senior class with their families. You wipe your tears as you cheer again, the pride swelling in your heart incomparable to any sadness you feel about him leaving.

The band finally plays to cut them off, signaling that it’s time for everyone to get moving. The transition between the ceremony and kickoff is quick, but you’re determined to get at least one sentence to Joe before he walks off. Everything is moving parts, but you run straight up to Joe as the show gets going again.

Joe finds you quickly, opening his arms wide, and good thing, because you whack down on his pads with the force of your hug. He holds you tight around the waist, and you both sigh, already emotionally spent. “I am so proud of you,” you manage to mutter in his ear, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder pad your head is resting on for support.

“Thank you,” he croaks back, still clearly feeling the effects of senior night, even with his nonchalant expression. You rock back and forth a few times, but knowing you have almost no time, the hug doesn’t last as long as you’d prefer.

“Oh god, just one quick picture guys!” You hear a wail from behind you, finding a puffy eyed Grace with her phone already out. Joe snickers, and you belly laugh at her emotional state, even though you’re really not that far behind her. Joe pulls you in tightly by the waist, his body pressed against yours as you wrap an arm around his middle, and another to his lower chest. Your smiles are wide, eyes a little teary, and energy warm when Grace snaps the picture.

“Perfect,” Grace chokes out and starts to walk off, until Robin stops her and points at something on her phone. “Oh, okay,” you hear her reply softly, until you realize you really shouldn’t be eavesdropping.

Something wrong with the picture? Oh god. She hates me.

“I have to go back in,” Joe nods to the tunnel, keeping a hand on your upper back before he slowly jogs off. “I’ll see you out there.”

“Good luck,” you call after him. Not that you’ll need it.

“We need to go,” Grace is back on you, grabbing your arm and guiding you back to the sideline.

“Great seeing you all, I’ll see you after the game, at dinner!” You tell Robin and Jimmy hurriedly, each of them bidding you good luck and a small hug before you’re truly yanked away.

You make it back to your designated cheer position, still reeling from the emotions as you try to gather yourself for the start of the game. Other girls come up to you offering hugs and their congratulations, before Grace starts getting everyone into formation and calling out combos as the boys exit the tunnel again.

Right after your first couple of passes, you feel a quick tap on your shoulder. You whip around to see Joe, dressed and ready for the game, but a white jersey sits in his hands, outstretched to you.

“Hey,” he gruffs out, “I can’t wear this for the game. Take it for me?” He opens the jersey up to display the BURREAUX on the back–you guess he has to keep his real spelling for the actual game.

“Yeah,” you nod, gingerly grasping the silky fabric from him. Joe nods curtley, then walks off completely mute again. It’s time to get back to business.

You stare at the fabric in your hand with a shy smirk. The most powerful, important man in this stadium, the one anyone here would give an arm and a leg for, just handed you his jersey. You think about putting it on there and then, but Joe’s not exactly about public displays like that, and Coach Kandace would chew you out for days about uniform policy. So you opt to keep this ego boost to yourself, and quietly pack the memento away in your backpack.

The game inches closer by the minute, the stands starting to get restless and rowdy as hype music blasts through the speakers and the kickoff countdown clock ticks off. You remind yourself to breathe, to be here, and enjoy Death Valley’s neon lights for the last time this season, to enjoy this team while all of you are still together. To hold on to this bit of youth while you can. Energy surges through you as you realize something you’ve always known, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than Tiger Stadium.

A&M wins the coin toss, but defers their possession to the second half, which results in LSU receiving. Special teams players start to make their way onto the field, and both sidelines start jumping, throwing their hands up to get the crowd going with them. What starts as a booming rumble eventually grows to a fever pitch when the A&M kicker boots it, letting the ball sail all the way to the back of the endzone.

You expect the game to start out rough, due to the history of the two teams, and on the very first play of the game Joe gets pulled down in a nasty horse collar tackle that results in a flag. You gasp, your heart thudding in your ears, but Joe pops right up, skipping back onto the field after having a few words with the defensive tackle that wronged him. So you breathe out a long sigh, and hope for no more dirty plays.

Everyone comes out the gate with momentum and energy, meshing together so well you’re not sure if A&M ever had a chance. Joe spreads the ball out beautifully, going from a run for Clyde, to a dump off for Justin, to a deep shot for Ja’marr. They go hurry-up to throw off the Aggies defense, and Clyde punches in the touchdown. It’s a seamless start. The stadium booms with you, “T-I-G-E-R-S, tigers!”

With A&M’s bleak 7-4 record, they do as you expect, going three and out and punting the ball away. And on the next drive Joe and company do the same thing they’ve always done, drill their way down the field and into the endzone, regardless of a few mishaps and faux injuries from the Aggies in an attempt to slow the game down. It doesn’t matter–LSU dominates. Justin scores this one, dancing goofier than usual in the endzone while the crowd roars, and you and Tay laugh. Everyone seems to be laughing, even on the sidelines where there's typically no joy until the final down, there’s a radiant energy because these drives are just confirmation that this game is a victory lap. Even Coach O can’t help but beam at his boys.

It’s too easy. The defense gets a stop, and the offense gets their third touchdown of the first quarter, this one a ridiculously deep 78 yard shot to a wide open Ja’marr. Joe throws his hands up, jumping up and bumping his chest with an offensive lineman in celebration, and there’s nothing for anyone else to do but dance, ending the first quarter up 21-zip. Then, at the top of the second quarter, it happens all over again, play after play until Ty Davis-Price pummels through the endzone.

The Aggies still can’t do anything on offense, but on the next drive they manage to limit the Tigers to a field goal, likely because Coach O has started playing some backups who are seniors so they can get their flowers. That seems to be respite enough for A&M, and good thing because they punt the football again on their next drive. You and the crowd never falter, even though the game already looks like a blowout, screaming your heads off on every third down, celebrating harder after every score.

LSU punts for the first time at the two minute warning, not that it does the Aggies’ sorry offense any good. You almost cry again at halftime, just before and after performing your routine and a tumbling pass with the Tiger Girls, soaking in the crowd who’s so enthusiastically cheering you on. It feels like all the love in the world is in this stadium, and you get to share it with your favorite people with pride. A few senior Tiger Girls get honored, and hugging them almost kills you, even if you still have a whole second half of the season left. It just feels like the beginning of the end. One of many more of their “last times” at LSU.

A&M gets shut down once again at the top of the second half, then trades LSU for a punt, which gets traded right back for an interception. Calls start to get made against both teams’ sloppy play, limiting LSU to a field goal, and granting A&M their first score of the night: a touchdown. The offense takes the field again, hoping to respond, and it’s clear they’ve started to clean up their penalty mistakes. The unbelievable powerhouse is up and running again, with well oiled runs and passes darting all through the field and pounding through A&M’s defense. On a blitz in the red zone, Joe locates his favorite target, Ja’marr, and airs it out. Uno catches it, even with the pass interference call, and you know that’s it. Joe is likely out of the game, seeing as they’re up 41-7 and you just witnessed his last minutes playing in Death Valley. A wave of emotion crashes down on you as he runs off to the sideline, and your lip starts to quiver. No one cares about the Aggies’ very short, ineffective drive, at least until they run a fake punt play, getting the first down. They end up getting down to the red zone, then kicking themselves out of the field goal range with flag after flag. Everyone’s antsy, just waiting to see which QB will come out next for LSU.

Eventually A&M turns the ball over on downs at the beginning of the fourth quarter, and you’re surprised to see Joe jog out to take the field with the offense. Ja’marr and Justin stay on the bench, so you can only assume Coach O is giving Joe the send off he deserves. Your suspicions are confirmed when Joe sails a nice easy checkdown pass to Clyde, and the next thing that comes over the speakers is, “LSU takes it’s first timeout.” A bittersweet feeling crashes over you as you watch Joe jog to the LSU sideline and get replaced by Myles Brennan, the entire stadium on their feet again for their golden boy. You cheer just as loud as everyone else, amusing yourself through the tears by catching the kiss Joe blows out to Death Valley with two hands. He shakes hands and hugs every staff member on that sideline, and you swear you see him look down at his feet, the face of a stone cold killer washing over for the first time all night with emotional pride. The crowd goes on through the entire thirty second timeout, causing the refs to have to blow their whistles in order to get the game moving again.

The drive drones on in the background as everyone tries to recover from Joe’s bittersweet exit, every player on the sideline showing him their respects with dap ups and hugs. When Tracy McMath goes for a 58 yard touchdown everyone remembers there’s still a game going on, the cheers loud, goofy and boisterous as he sprints into the endzone. Joe runs down the sideline wild and free with no helmet, but when he reaches McMath he jumps and headbutts him anyways, bright grins on every single players’ lips. Everyone’s going mad during the extra point, slapping helmets, throwing towels, guttural screams of joy as far as the eye can see from the stands to the sideline. There’s nothing like sweet victory, and sweet justice for a team that put each of you through hell last season.

Both teams start to move lethargically after that, even as the backups come in with fresh energy, it just feels like backyard ball. After a “get your shit together, stop celebrating” talk from Coach O, LSU continues to put salt in the wound with another interception, and an embarrassing safety caused by A&M’s backup quarterback’s fumbled snap. Finally the clock winds down, and both teams flood the field with the media. Coffin, nails.

You feel like you’re all cried out after the emotional ceremony and Joe’s walk off, which is good because all anyone around you is doing is celebrating. The 2019 LSU Tigers are officially 13-0 in the regular season with their ticket punched the the SEC Championship, putting down a season for the history books. You can’t imagine there will be a single frown in Baton Rouge tonight, because there certainly are none as you gather your things with the girls, practically floating across the field and into the locker room. You try to spot Joe before he goes back, but he’s being mobbed by cameras and microphones, everyone vying for just one look at the man who changed it all for Louisiana. When he walks off the field, he leaves his time there as an LSU Tiger behind. Next time he comes to Death Valley, he’ll have to have a ticket.

Iconic party tunes blast through a speaker as you and your team get unready and undressed, each of you showering and opting for a purple matching sweat set you all bought at the beginning of the year as a team. Of course you never knew if you’d make it to the SEC Championship or College Football Playoffs, so at the beginning of the season you agreed to simply wear the sets all together after the last game. It’s definitely a party, and your heart swells with everything good, warm, and wonderful as you look forward to your next game at a neutral site in Atlanta.

You meet up with the boys outside the locker room, showing off your cute matching sets, which Ja’marr just rolls his eyes at. “No joy! Be joyful!” Kelia scolds him as you all walk out, gearing up for the biggest family dinner of all time. Joe’s, Justin’s, and your parents are all here, along with Kelia’s mom, your sister Maddie, and Joe’s older brothers Jamie and Dan. You all managed to forge a plan and lock in a reservation at a random Cheesecake Factory, because realistically that’s the only place that would take this many of you.

Joe’s arm stays wrapped around you as you walk, and you probably kiss his cheeks twenty times followed by the sentence, “I’m so proud of you.” You just can’t get over the way he beams and blushes every single time, looking at you like he has all the time in the world.

You have to get in separate cars to transport to the restaurant, but the vibes are nothing short of immaculate. Music blasting, belly laughing, hanging out the windows to wave when you stop next to each other at a light. You’re no longer emotional wrecks, just high off a dominating win and the promise that this thing could go all the way into January.

The dinner is everything you hoped it would be. You and Joe’s parents exchange kind handshakes, immediately finding common ground raising kids in sports, and enjoying a nice outing on the green during the summer. The dads talk golf clubs while the moms laugh about an old habit you used to have, and eventually Kelia’s mom and Justin’s parents join in.

Jamie and Dan feel more like Joe’s uncles than they do his brothers, but you see the same boyish spirit in them that comes out of Joe when he’s truly comfortable. You go over the details of Dan’s recent engagement, congratulating him and offering your input when he asks your opinion on a birthday gift for the fiancee. You sigh in relief when your parents are entertained by Joe, finally seeing that small town kid from Ohio instead of a hard-headed NFL jock that couldn’t care less about which girl he’s going to be banging that night. What really wins them over is when your mom's steak arrives while your dad is in the bathroom, and she just waits for him to get back so he can cut the meat for her like he always has. But Joe wordlessly leans over, knife and fork in hand, almost shocking your mom out of her seat. He explains that you told him the story, but he thinks she shouldn't have to wait to eat.

At some point, you catch Robin’s eye and remember her looks during the game, wondering if it’s just you she’s unsure of and not your parents, because she seems to be beaming now. Your mind creeps back over to Cam and Lindsay’s message, from that dinner after last week’s game, but you shove it down and drown it out with Grace’s explanation of your routines to Kelia’s mom.

It’s all in your head.

Eventually you have to bid everyone goodnight and goodbye, promising to see your family in the morning before they head back to your hometown. Joe drives as many people home as he can, until it’s the two of you left, both agreeing your parents got along well and making sure Maddie didn’t say anything too embarrassing about you. When you make it into the apartment, Joe stretches wide, letting his bags fall off his shoulders and to the ground with a thump.

“I gotta shower really quick, I forgot to bring shampoo to the stadium,” Joe calls out as he walks down the hall, a grimace in his tone.

You nod, even though he can’t see you, seeking refuge in his room and letting your sack fall to the floor too. The shower turns on, and you let your hair down, running your hands through it and shaking out any clumps that formed from the airdry. You stretch, wash your face, start going through the motions of getting ready for bed until you need your hairbrush from your backpack. When you unzip it, sitting right at the top is the Burreaux jersey Joe handed you during the game.

The lettering shocks you all over again, as if you didn’t see it when he ran out of the tunnel. Fingers delicately trace the stitching, until you clump the silk in your hand, just to make sure it’s actually real. Your brain gets flooded with memories from tonight, moments that are already too gone to relive or redo, until a more…mischievous idea pops into your head. You may not have wanted to wear the jersey in front of the whole stadium, but here? Where only Joe can see? That may be a sight he can’t resist.

You gingerly lift your hoodie over your head, glancing back at the door to Joe’s room to be sure he’s still showering. You feel your heart thump as you slowly continue to undress, removing your socks, sweatpants, and sports bra with semi shaky hands. Will he even like this? Or is this cringey? You bat away the thoughts as you tug the large white jersey over your head, letting it fall barley to the tops of your thighs. There’s a mirror on the other side of the room that you pad over to, staring back at yourself in nothing but the jersey and your panties. You definitely look the part, your hair slightly messy and your puffy lips pouted, getting swallowed by the silky fabric that’s meant to fit over a 6 '4 man’s pads. You’re grateful you needed a confidence boost (and something to wear under a white miniskirt) this morning and slipped on a white lace thong, because it matches perfectly. You check yourself out for a few minutes while you think through your strategy, nerves and excitement coursing through you as you anticipate Joe’s reaction.

Suddenly you hear the shower click off, and your heart shoots up your throat. Oh god, what should I be doing? Should I just be on the bed? You decide you want to try to be casual, so you walk up to one of Joe’s random floating shelves, pretending to be particularly interested in his collection of self-help books. You hear the door open and Joe’s feet pad to a hard stop, likely to observe you. Your heart beats out of your chest as you slowly look over, trying your best to keep your face even, even though Joe’s frozen in place, pupils blown wide and jaw dropped. He’s in nothing but boxers, the towel that was in his hand now on the floor as water droplets cascading down the hard ridges of his chest and faint abs in a way that makes you dizzy, but you need to stay focused. He’s certainly focused on you, his eyes consuming every bit of you.

“Hey,” you say casually, walking up to Joe in a slow, sensual manner, dropping your hand from the stack of books. Your hips sway, and your chest puffs out, letting your back arch so a little bit of your ass cheeks brush the cool air. Your eyes dart up and down his figure while he still smothers you, finally focusing on the jersey you mischievously adorn.

“Holy fuck,” Joe finally breathes out, slowly moving his shaky hands to the fabric. He cuffs it on either side of your waist, pulling you closer by a few inches. “Whatcha wearing?”

“A jersey this guy gave to me tonight,” you smile, doing a slow spin in Joe’s arms. You hear his breath hitch when he sees Burreaux printed on the back, so you let your ass scrape against the font of his towel, just as a tease. You don’t let it show but his hands…his proximity…the smell of his shampoo…it’s all getting to you and dragging you under that spell he can so easily put you under. “His jersey.”

“Oh yeah?” Joe’s voice grumbles, locking his dark eyes with yours and putting his hands on your waist fully. You can feel him holding back, trying not to tug you onto him with zero abandon.

“Mmhm,” you hum, blinking up at him with big eyes as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You follow with a slow, praising tone laced with pure sex and attraction. “He’s a really big deal. Didn’t lose a single game this season, was even on the cover of Sports Illustrated this week.”

Joe’s grip tightens on your hips, and you can see his resolve slipping as he darts his eyes from your eyes, to your lips, to the jersey. The primal look in his eyes shoots heat straight to your core, and you can’t fucking wait for what he’s going to do to you. Every doubt you had is completely washed away, replaced by nothing but pure need. You get on your tiptoes, tightening your arms around Joe’s neck so you can move closer to his ear. “And he looks so fucking sexy when he’s on the field…telling everyone exactly what to do…taking control of the game…and he does it like it’s nothing,” you whisper. “He’s so good it’s like everyone worships him,” you practically moan, watching Joe’s chest start to heave and his pupils dilate as the praise washes over him.

“In fact, he had 100,000 people screaming his name tonight,” you recall, pressing a slow kiss behind his ear afterwards. “And…I intend to be the next.” Whatever thread Joe was hanging onto finally snaps at that. An arm drops to your upper back and the other to the backs of your thighs as Joe heaves you into the air with little effort, sweeping you off your feet. He tosses you like a ragdoll onto his bed, causing you to squeal and bounce once from the impact, excitement and heat coursing through you at your successful plan. Joe crawls to you like a predator towards their prey, hunting you like he plans on having you as a meal.

“Open,” Joe demands, pinning your right knee to the side while your other obliges his word, spreading wide for him. Your panties are revealed to him, and his jaw clicks once while you await your fate, laying exposed while he observes you under a heated gaze. Your cheeks start to burn as he slowly brings two fingers to the outside of the lace, tracing teasingly from your entrance up to your clit. The feather light sensation makes a soft moan slip from your lips, but Joe doesn’t seem to care, simply humming to himself in satisfaction at the damp fabric. You watch him as he watches you, until your eyes finally meet. He sees your plea, your desperation, and he smirks.

“What do you want me to do baby,” Joe coos, raising his brows in the sluttiest way.

“Whatever you want,” you breathe out. You’re desperate, but you want tonight to be about him. “Whatever you want, Joe.” He smiles at that, flicking his fingers from your entrance to your clit again, letting his smile widen into a smirk when your eyes roll back for a moment.

Fuck that feels good.

“Good fucking answer,” he praises, letting his large palms flatten against your thighs while you let out a long breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, trying to steady your jumping heart. He observes you, letting the contact of his hands on your legs send sparks throughout you, doing little to help you calm your need.

Finally Joe hooks his fingers through your panties, pulling them down calmly and tossing them. Your pussy glistens, clearly worked up from your little stunt, and Joe looks more than pleased with that. His fingers brush against your thigh for a while, working you back up until he eventually slides his middle finger into you with ease. A moan tumbles out of you, and your mouth hangs open as he slowly works you out, drawing sound after sound from your lips. Every brush against your walls sends you further down the rabbit hole until your chest is heaving from his delicate, teasing patterns, hurling you towards the brink. He pushes you down, pinning your hips down when you start bucking them, and just before you think you’ll break, he pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing, friction completely gone.

“No,” you whimper automatically, betrayal filling your eyes as you stare up at Joe, kneeling before you with a cocky grin on his face.

“I thought you said whatever I want?” Joe asks teasingly, innocently, and that’s when you realize. What he wants is desperation. You, completely broken, needing nothing but him. He raises his eyebrows again, waiting for an answer. So you slowly nod with submissive eyes, heart pounding and face flushing as you try to breathe, trying to work yourself away from the edge before he starts again, but the thought of doing this all over again just because he says so just electrifies you more.

Fuck, I need to calm down.

Joe certainly isn’t helping, already putting his hands back on you. His warm palms drag up to your bare stomach under the jersey, searching until they reach your tits. He massages them lightly, then starts rolling your nipples between his fingers. You reach for the bottom of the jersey to tug it off so he has better access, but Joe is quick to nudge your hands away.

“Uh uh,” he nods, staring at the large number 9 imprinted across your chest. “This doesn’t come off.” You nod back, doing everything in your power to not let your hips buck against the air. Finally Joe moves his body down to yours, pushing the jersey up slightly to start kissing just below your belly button, and you know exactly what’s coming.

Oh please god help me get through this.

Joe’s feather light kisses tease around your center, from the tops of your thighs, to your inner thighs, to your navel. His hands continue travelling everywhere, just to keep you heated and sensitive for as long as possible. Eventually you’re shaking, and you know you’re not going to last more than sixty seconds with the skills his mouth possesses.

Joe leans down, breath fanning over you before he whispers, “Don’t do it.” Finally he brings his mouth down on your throbbing pussy, and the pleasure is blinding. Your mouth hangs open, guttural noises falling from your lips while he works you. Joe wastes no time building you up this time, knowing you’re already there, and lets his tongue dance between your folds in the ways you love most. He dips his tongue in your entrance, letting his nose rub back and forth on your clit, and it skyrockets you so close to orgasm, just like you knew would happen.

No, no, no, you think, trying to pull back to relieve the pressure, but Joe grips your hips like a vice, keeping his face nuzzled in. He flattens his tongue over you, then brings his lips up to your clit to suck, and it takes everything in you to hold back as the heat rushes. He looks up at you and you lock eyes, utter panic and pleasure flooding your eyes and he just nods his head no, humming, “Mm, mm.” The vibration pushes you right there, one stroke away from losing your balance and tipping off that cliff, and just like that, his mouth pops off. The cool air hits your core, and you feel like you’re almost sent over the edge from that sensation alone.

“Hold it,” Joe demands, sitting up to watch as he keeps his hands on your hips to keep you from going anywhere. The order shoots another string of heat through you, and you hear a genuine whimper leave your lips from how hard you’re trying to hold back. The juxtaposition between doing what you want and doing what Joe wants because you need the praise makes your head dizzy. It’s exactly what you love. Joe is in control. You’re being so good. It’s cruel, you know that. He’s dangling you over the edge, bringing you there and never letting you fall.

But it’s what he wants. So you breathe.

You’re dizzy with need, desperation tugging at every single heartstring. When you can finally open your eyes you blink up at Joe with glassy, hazy eyes, and he leans down to kiss your forehead before tugging down the waistband of his boxers. When Joe’s pink, hard cock springs out, you stare, so desperate to be fucked until you can’t walk. So desperate to cum.

Joe grabs your hips and flips you so you’re on all fours, and you lower onto your forearms, your back automatically arching towards him. You don’t need to say anything–he knows you’re aching for it. Joe positions himself behind you and brushes all your hair to one side, displaying Burreaux in all its glory, and a rush of anticipation runs through you. He guides his dick up to your entrance and holds it there, waiting, and after a moment of holding back, you break.

“Oh god,” your voice comes out in a breathless, broken plea. “Please, Joe.”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg,” Joe groans as he starts slowly rubbing his tip in circles over your clit, over and over, occassionally slipping in inch in before going back to the circles. “Do it again, nice and pretty for me,” he commands.

Your brows furrow, and your throat catches as involuntary tears fill your eyes. “Joe,” you cry shakily. “Please, baby? I need it so bad,” you whisper, pitching your voice up to please him.

“Fuck that’s it…” Joe sighs, getting off at the mere sound of your voice.

“I n-need it,” you choke out, practically shaking. In one fell swoop, Joe slams into you, making you see stars. He sets a brutal pace, knocking into you over and over while you let cries of pleasure flow through the air.

“You like that? That what you need so bad?” Joe asks through a groan, grunting with effort has he continues barreling into you.

“Yes,” you manage to reply. “So good.”

“You look so sexy with my name on your back,” Joe growls, his voice shaking as he starts gripping your waist harder, using the leverage to yank you back onto his cock. You suddenly become aware of the silky smooth jersey brushing against your bare skin, starting to burn heat into you, enhancing the waves of pleasure that wrack your body.

“I’m all yours Joey,” you blurt, drowning in the fabric, drowning in the feeling of being owned. “All for you.”

“That’s right princess. My perfect girl,” he mutters shakily. “Go on, say it. I know you want to.”

“Joe,” you moan, and it quickly turns into the only thing you know. “Joe, Joe, Joe…” you continue, eventually blubbering straight nonsense. “Harder, Joey,” you manage to beg. He happily obliges, hitting spots in you that make you see stars, and you really hope he doesn’t fucking stop, because your orgasm is about to come crashing down on you like a tsunami, and you don’t think you can calm it.

Everything starts to blur as you get overwhelmed, screaming, “Joe…I’m going to cum…fuck, Joe!”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Joe praises as his thrusts get sloppy, his hips stuttering as you squeeze him to death. “So perfect for me. You can let it go now.”

Tears stream down your face as you cum, every pressure point in your body flooding with relief. You cum harder than you ever have, screaming, whining, squealing, barley on this Earth as your arms go limp, causing your face to fall onto the pillow in front of you. Once you come back down, Joe’s strong arms are already cradling your body as he slowly slides out, his own release streaming down your thigh.

Joe grabs wipes from his bedside table, whispering endless praise into your ear as he cleans you up and finally lets you take off the jersey, leaving you bare. Both of you are too spent to get out of bed and grab real PJs, so you slide into bed completely naked, tangled in each other. You whisper back and forth, giggling quietly about an inside joke from dinner, until Joe notices you nodding off on his bicep. He tucks you into him gently, rubbing your back slowly as you drift off finally feeling safe. Secure.

When you wake, you open Instagram for the first time in days. Your fingers are hesitant, but everything is back to business as usual as you go through your notifications one by one, weight falling off your chest with each normal alert.

I’m okay…I’ve gotten through it…

The storm is finally over, with the last lingering effects of your past relationship finally dwindling off in the distance like a ship sailing away from shore. You’ve handled your emotions well, like you said you would, and most importantly, you kept you and Joe drama free.

The last item in your inbox makes you quirk a brow.

Joe. He never posts.

You open the DM to see he tagged you in a story last night. It’s a messy, thrown together collage of pictures before and after the game with his mom, dad, and extended family. One of the three pictures is the one Grace took right after senior announcements, where you’re both beaming. Your smiles radiate off the screen as you both embrace each other, Joe’s arm protectively around your shoulder while yours wraps around his middle. He captioned it, “Last one with my favorite people :)”

You jut your lip out in a pout at the screen, admiring all the pictures for a few moments before reposting to your story with no additional caption. The picture speaks for itself, the joy on your faces capturing the perfect sentiment of the moment. It translates to you as you start your day, wondering when the best time would be to make some eggs.

Many people would consider throwing a bunch of college kids in a kitchen and telling them to cook a Thanksgiving meal a disaster waiting to happen. And they may be right, but they’ll also never know the incredible entertainment you’re blessed enough to witness.

You’re all done with your finals. It’s the least you could do to celebrate

“Four minutes in the microwave? I’ll be damned if I’m microwaving green beans,” Ja’marr’s face contorts into one of disgust as he eyes the back of the frozen bag for directions. Kelia is haphazardly moving this way and that, her glass of red wine stuck to her hand as she moves. The liquid threatens to spill over with every sharp movement, more disorganization flowing through the air as Kelia dramatically calls out orders and hounds everyone for being in her way.

“I don’t know about that one brother…” Justin leans over Ja’marr’s shoulder to read the directions himself.

“Look at the directions, I ain’t makin’ this shit up,” Ja’marr shoves the cold bag onto Justin’s chest.

“Honestly, I gave y’all the easiest fuckin’ job,” Kelia interrupts their bickering before immediately moving on and asking Grace to start another timer–you guess this one’s for buttering the rolls. Or starting on the stuffing? It’ll all get done eventually.

“Easiest fuckin’ job woulda been buying the shit pre-made,” Justin counters as he fumbles to get the bag of beans open. “But nooo! Tay says we have to be ‘authentic.’”

“White people. Y’all kill me,” Ja’marr scoffs with an eye roll, and Justin nods along with him.

“They call Louisiana ghetto when they the ones having a Thanksgiving meal with no mac n’ cheese,” Justin argues, finally pouring the green strings into a bowl and adding some water. “That’s fuckin’ ghetto.”

“But mac n’ cheese isn’t-” Tay flies in from the hallway where she’s been arranging store bought napkins into silly shapes like you’re at some fancy restaurant. Her bickering with Ja’marr and Justin continues rampantly as you start to grab plates and utensils to set the (foldable) table.

“It doesn’t matter! None of this is any kind of authentic,” Grace interrupts with an eye roll, trying to focus on not letting the stuffing stick to the bottom of her pan.

“Well we’re not made of money, but we’re going to do our best,” Tay nods cheerfully.

“You do realize there isn’t a turkey in the oven, right?” Joe asks with a raised brow. “It’s rotisserie chicken,” he finishes flatly, pulling your not-so-real-turkey out from the oven where it’s been heating up. He undoes the string on the legs, and gets started on cutting off slices of meat.

Tay just glares at him. “Like I said, doing our best,” she huffs.

Eventually the madness in the kitchen simmers down, and plates piled high with comfort food are passed around while everyone lists what they’re thankful for. Everyone’s faces are laced with the kind of lethargy that only comes from student athletes in the thick of finals, but at this moment, there’s a lightheartedness that isn’t likely to last, so you decide to hang onto it.

The break, however few hours it may be, is well deserved. Your stomach feels heavier than it has in a long time, full of warm, comforting food–at least, as comforting as it gets when Justin is in the kitchen. But the feeling lets your bones relax, sinking softly into your foldable chair as uncontrollable giggles slip past your lips at every quip anyone around the table utters. For a moment there’s a flicker of grief for your parents, who are likely wishing you’d picked any other extracurricular activity that didn’t keep you locked up in Louisiana during the holiday season, but it’s calmly subdued by Joe’s arm looming around the back of your chair like a security blanket. It could be the single glass of wine you’ve indulged in making you ooze happiness, but you know it’s really the company.

A tight jolt from your phone under your thigh pulls you back, and you offhandedly excuse yourself to the restroom to check the notification. When you round the corner to step down the dark hallway, your brow furrows at the Instagram notification from a random user. Ever since you got tagged in Joe’s post from the Texas game, you’d occasionally get a DM. Some weird reply to your story, intense football fans telling you where he should be drafted, bold LSU cleat chasers asking if they still had a chance with him–you never reply. But this message was different…

@addy_finn17: So you’re the new one? lol, lmk in a couple months when he gets bored

Your heart lurches, dropping into your stomach, and an unexpected wave of nausea rolls through you. You reread the message once, twice, trying to make sense of every word before your emotions get tugged in twelve different directions at once. Before you can even process it, your thumb is clicking on the profile of the girl, scanning for any kind of answers.

Her bio reads “Ohio State ‘19,” and that statement is further proven when you click on her most recent post to see a few girls in red and white, smiles wide and hands tossed up to showcase the grand powerhouse that is Ohio Stadium. When you tap to see who’s tagged, you notice the only one who isn’t is the one in the middle, a small, cute thing with a blonde blowout down to her ribs and a big, chocolate puppy eyes. You’re scrolling through her feed quickly, very haphazardly for something a mere double tap could upend, until you see it: a post from last New Years where she’s nothing but silver sparkles and cheer, the perfect cocktail of spunky, sexy and sweet with the caption, “miss me already?” She’s gorgeous, no doubt, but what actually stops you is the familiar name in the comment section.

@joeyb_9: More than ever. Come to Louisiana? :)

@addy_finn17: i guess i can check my schedule..

That gut feeling you got squeezes at the confirmation, so you try to breathe and focus on one thing at a time as your mind starts rattling off thoughts a mile a minute.

His ex? Why is she DMing me this? Doesn’t she have a life? But…what if she’s right? Is this girls supporting girls or is she delusional? I don’t think I’m the delusional one.

You scroll around her feed more carefully now, reading each caption and swiping through photographs. There’s no telling what you’re looking for, all you know is there’s a sharp, undying need for you to know exactly who this girl is, and what her life was like with Joe. An uneasy pang of hatred runs down your spine as you fall further down the rabbit hole and realize she looks…normal. Pretty. No obvious orange tan or blatant narcissism, just coffee with friends. A philanthropy event with her sorority. A trip to Florida with her family. Gameday pics in her lacrosse uniform. She’s probably nice.

Well, except for in this message.

That’s what rings in your head the loudest. This girl–Addy–likely knew Joe longer than you. What if he does get bored easily? What if he gets drafted and realizes his life is turning into so much more than stupid little LSU and you? What if he wants a little taste of home…

Of Ohio State…

You wrack your brain for any time someone could have mentioned her, until you realize Kelia mentioned talking to her when she was trying to convince you to rebound with Joe in the first place.

“Last spring when his ex was in town I met her at this party and she would not shut up about how good he is in bed. It was kind of annoying actually, like bitch I don’t know you.”

Immediately you feel like you’re going to hurl. Images of Joe doting on her, kissing her neck, on his knees for her…it all hits you at once, far too quickly for you to handle. Before you can think twice about it you swipe out of the account, out of the message, off the app and hold your phone up against your chest, feeling your heartbeat nervously rattle in your chest.

No. It’s fine. This is stupid, I can handle it.

Just like that, you spiral. After weeks of back and forth with your own ex, another knife drives into you, this one hitting you square in your chest where it hurts.

But how stupid would you look to care about this? You’ve never been the type to give a shit what people have to say about you, so why now? Maybe because it’s never felt this good before. Maybe deep down you knew if anyone jeopardized your relationship with Cam, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you broke up. You don’t know if you can do that with Joe.

He’s too good. He doesn’t deserve this.

So you bare it for him.

It’s all you know to do.

It eats at you for days. You shove yourself into your finals, using them as a valid excuse to not have to face any of your friends, because you don’t trust yourself to act like you always do. You feel like everyone can see right through you, past the good grades and the confidence and the pom poms, straight to the bubbling insecurity that you’re just…not good enough. You’ve gotten so used to thinking you need to perform for people to love you, as a way to make up for the areas you thought were lacking. If you can’t be someone deserving of care, you should at least put on a show like you are in order to not fuck it up. All these messages, the undeniable pressure it’s causing you to put on yourself…to you, it’s all proof that you’re not performing well enough. Even when you’re pretending to be the perfect girlfriend, he’s bored. You’re trying too hard. Vapid. Forgettable. Disposable. Even if he does want you, it’s for that performance. That perfect version of you you manage to conjure to the surface when someone pushes down on you somewhere that’s bruised. And maybe that version isn’t even perfect at all.

The night of the SEC Championship, you’re not sure when you’ll break, but you can feel the cracks in the dam. Even just being in the locker room, tugging on your silly, stupid costume, your hands shake and your skin crawls. Your uniform usually feels like a badge you wear with pride, but now…you just feel like a fraud.

It takes so much effort to get ready that by the time you’re spritzing on your last bit of setting spray, the locker room has completely cleared out. You look at yourself in the mirror, your armor fully equipped now, and shove one big smile up your throat, just to prove to yourself that you can still do that for the game. All it does is cause tears to spring into your eyes, so you look away.

You gather all your makeup so you can head out to the field and warm up, the last item you grab being your phone. It taunts you for a few seconds, and with a long sigh, you open Instagram. You noticed late in the morning, that girl–Addy–posted something to her story. Stalking her page was one thing, though she was practically inviting it by DMing you, but viewing her story is straight up pathetic.

The ring around her profile picture seems to glow, like it’s begging you to click it, so you swipe back to the DM she sent you to try to un-tempt yourself.

@addy_finn17: So you’re the new one? lol, lmk in a couple months when he gets bored

“What is that?”

You jump at the unexpected interruption, turning to see Kelia with an unreadable expression etched onto her face, her eyes flicking to your phone then back to you again.

Shit.

You don’t know what to say. Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, but nothing comes out. Come on, you can tell Kelia.

“Who said that to you?” She asks, a little firmer this time. Her stance shifts to one of defensive fury, arms crossed and shoulders square. Every part of you feels like crumbling, and you’re so caught between apologetic, shameful, and embarrassed.

But it’s Kelia.

“It’s his ex,” you finally breathe out, the painful pressure in your chest finally giving way. Each word you speak sends you closer to breakdown, until you let a few stray tears fall. “Cam replied to my story a few weeks ago too, and…I don’t know, I thought I could handle it. It didn’t seem like a big deal.” Kelia’s expression softens as you speak until she tugs you in for a bear hug. Your arms wrap around her tight, while she rocks the two of you back and forth slowly. It feels like you can finally breathe, letting your few tears fall onto her shoulder as you’re comforted by her warm vanilla scent. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” your voice cracks, and you just grip her tighter.

“Oh honey,” Kelia sighs. “I’m sorry any of this is happening to you. You do not deserve any of the hell you’re going through.”

The two of you stay like this for a few moments, cooling down and gathering your bearings. When you finally let go, you explain everything. The DMs, the posts, the crippling insecurity about your relationship with Joe that hit you like a freight train.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough,” you explain as you sluggishly put all your things back into your backpack. “Or I’m doing too much. There’s no winning.”

“You’re trying to win a game that doesn’t even exist,” Kelia explains softly. “Joe…he’s not like Cam. He doesn’t want you because you’re some trophy he can show off to his caveman friends. He just wants you…it doesn’t matter how many accolades you earn, or how many times you can get hit before you can’t get back up. He wants to experience it all with you. So…let him. He can give you the reassurance you need.”

And you know she’s right. It’s just always been a battle with you, believing it fully. That there really are people who want you, and nothing more than that.

Finally your heartbeat slows, and your eyes are dry. Not too much damage has been done to your makeup, nothing at least a little splotching can’t fix. “Thank you,” you whisper, pulling your best friend in for one last hug. When you separate, she grabs your hand and starts walking out of the locker room with you. Your hands don’t shake anymore.

As you round the corner she calls your name to get your attention one last time. You look to her, and she tells you something that will stick with you for the rest of your long, to-the-grave friendship.

“None of us have ever loved you for your accomplishments. We love you because you love.”

There’s nothing quite like the roar of a stadium crowd in the deep south, a crowd that lives, breathes, and dies for football. The support soars through generations, down family trees that will forever be tainted with colors of the school they choose to honor for the rest of their lives. It’s really about legacy.

And no conference has a legacy quite like the Southeastern Conference–the big bad SEC.

The most dominant, high profile teams in all of college football are SEC teams. They’re expected to recruit the best, train the hardest, and win championships. So when the two best teams in that conference battle it out for a trophy, everyone wants to watch.

It’s no different this year, especially since LSU hasn’t lost a single game, and Georgia has only lost once. The playoff repercussions are also very real, seeing as Georgia is on the bubble, and LSU is only one of three teams with a perfect record–the others being Clemson and Ohio State. Not only that, but it’s a battle of the number one offense in the country with Joe and company, versus the number two defense in the country in Georgia. Joe certainly has his work cut out for him, and you’re expecting a lot of back and forth.

Mercedes Benz Stadium is sold out in Atlanta, Georgia, and you take in the clear divide of red and purple right down the middle of the field, each group of fans cheering from their respective sidelines. The atmosphere is the largest you’ve ever been in, a championship game to claim the crown of the best conference in college football, and likely a trip to the College Football Playoffs.

Two top four teams…but only one championship trophy.

From Atlanta, let’s play ball.

Georgia takes the ball first, the loud spectators causing them to play sloppy, until LSU awards them a first down with a facemask call. The defense makes up for it though, forcing a 4th and 9 and a punt, giving the ball to LSU.

The atmosphere stays rambunctious, but Joe is forever Mr. Cool Calm and Collected. He finds a first down after a couple of plays, everything running as expected until he throws a ball that you see go…nowhere.

What?

Suddenly you see Joe sprinting, everyone just as confused as you are while he picks up a 15 yard carry. When it replays on the screen you see that Joe did throw the ball, it was just batted by a defender and Joe caught it, picking up the first down. Everyone’s mouths drop and heads shake, in utter disbelief that he had the reflexes and nerve to not just shut down that play. LSU’s run game starts getting stuffed up, so they rely on Joe’s arm, which has never been a problem, except for the fact that Georgia is the number two defense in the country–they know how to rush the passer. Joe scrambles, manipulating the pocket as he stands in there forever, finally sticking out his thumb to the left in order to direct Ja’marr, then fires. Ja’marr scoops it up in the endzone, putting LSU on the board first.

You and the crowd go nuts, thrilled Joe seems more than capable of throwing off these legendary defenders and getting in position to score. Ja’marr is celebrating, talking his shit as the band plays and the crowd chants, “T-I-G-E-R-S, tigers!”

Georgia comes out swinging again, and the Tigers make mistakes, but Georgia just can’t seem to take advantage. Overthrowing receivers, running into defenders, it’s all going according to plan so far, but they won’t make those mistakes forever. On one of the first plays of LSU’s possession, Clyde slips, dropping the football, and a Georgia player falls on it. Your heart grips, eyes darting across the field, until it’s announced that the play will be reviewed. Upon replay, you see Clyde’s forearm touch the ground before he loses control of the football, and breathe out a sigh of relief. You still end up having to punt, but at least Georgia isn’t knocking on the door of the endzone.

Georgia starts to figure their offense out, plowing down the field far enough for a long field goal, but it’s missed wide right. Joe takes the field again, putting on a brave face as he has to hang into the pocket longer than he wants to, sometimes taking hard hits to get the ball out. He airs out a deep ball for Terrace Marshall, then a trick pass to him that’s so easy Joe starts walking off the field before his receiver even catches it in the end zone. The two score lead gives you a little more relief, but you know there’s still three quarters left.

Georgia gets their footing again, finally completing passes and striding down the field confidently, looking to answer for LSU’s two touchdowns. Your stomach starts to get queasy until Georgia’s quarterback gets immediately pummeled down on a 2nd and 10 blitz, causing you to grit out a, “Yes!” under your breath. At 4th and 14, the Bulldogs settle for a field goal, making the score 14-3.

LSU’s offense gets stopped on a three and out after Terrace Marshall drops a deep touchdown pass from Joe, but you see the two on the sidelines dap each other up and move on quickly, which is good. Georgia gets the ball rolling again until LSU’s blitz sack artists show up again, creating a 4th and 17 for a Bulldogs punt.

The Tigers start a hard fought drive, almost every down going all the way down to the third until Joe can convert. At about the 50 yard line, a blitz comes for Joe on a 1st and 10, and a defender comes flying towards him in the pocket immediately following the snap. Joe swoops away from him, almost tripping as another tackler comes running after him, but he breaks free past the first down marker and gets tackled. He rises fired up, chirping to the defenders that tackled him and pointing in a “first down” hand motion. He’s on fire, and although the drive is capped with a field goal, the momentum is completely with LSU.

Georgia simply feels disorganized and in disarray, sometimes exploding and sometimes limping around. Eventually Stingley catches them, and gets a clean pick off. LSU’s next drive is another gritty one, each player fighting for every single yard, but it wastes so much time. The clock winds down on the half, and eventually you have to try to go for a long field goal that’s missed. The score holds at 17-3 in favor of LSU.

That may not seem like a lot, but you have to remind yourself that 17 is actually the most points Georgia has given up in a half this season. You may not be scoring like crazy, but you’re dominating a team that thought they would completely shut down Joe and his offense. When they take the field again, you’re just hoping they can hang on.

Joe and company get the ball at the top of the second half, remaining well oiled as they slither down the field with ease. Joe goes through his reads calmly, saving plays with his smart decision making even though chaos is starting to ensue around everyone with hard hits, dirty plays and roughing penalties. He’s using his legs more and more, finding Georgia’s weak spots in the pocket with ease. They get all the way to the goal line, but the Bulldogs prove why they’re a high rated defense with a beautiful goal line stand. Frustration wracks through you, but Cade York's good kick keeps Georgia at a 17 point differential.

For a moment again it seems like Georgia is culminating their comeback, especially with a momentum shifting 4th and 8 conversion pass to George Pickens. But LSU brings out their sack artists again, pushing the Bulldogs behind the sticks and sealing the deal with great safety coverage. Their field goal kick is missed again, affording LSU good field position.

On the first play of the next drive, Georgia sends another all out blitz to get Joe uncomfortable. Joe dodges one rusher, then jukes another, the crowd roaring as he gets chased towards the sideline, but he keeps his eyes downfield and finds Justin deep on a dime. Everyone goes berserk as Justin weaves through defenders, carrying LSU to first and goal. The impeccable play is inexplicable, and as Justin gets tended to for his wonky tackle, everyone on the bench daps Joe up in awe. You’re laughing, shaking your head in disbelief for the millionth time today until Terrace catches another touchdown, and you holler.

Just as you start to calm down, reminding yourself there’s still a few minutes and one more quarter left, the Georgia quarterback cracks under pressure again, throwing the interception right to Stingley.

This is a dream! This has to be a dream!

You and the girls are practically skipping around, giggling like crazy, and almost don’t see Justin’s touchdown as a result of the great field position. You’re hugging Tay as you watch the clock wind down to the fourth quarter, raising up four fingers as a tradition, even though there really isn’t much you should be doing in the fourth quarter. You’re up 34-3.

Georgia finally shows up to the game, or rather your defense starts giving up and giving out yards with penalties, allowing George Pickens to get into the endzone. From there LSU is running the clock, giving Clyde and Ty Davis-Price endless touches. Even when they’re not really trying, the offense finds themselves in scoring position, or at least close enough for a 50 yard field goal that Cade York nails.

Georgia tries to go for another drive with only eight minutes left, but by the time they get to fourth down, they know it's no use and punt it away. Joe stays out there for a few handoffs, even though they’re practically taking a QB kneel at this point, but on a timeout Coach O waves him off, and you hear the LSU crowd chant, “Joe for Heisman! Joe for Heisman! Joe for Heisman!” Eventually the Tigers take victory formation, and everyone starts dancing. The media floods the field, the stage gets built in minutes, and before you know it players are celebrating in hats that read “CHAMPS,” filming videos, dancing, and cackling with each other.

You, Grace, Kelia and Tay all gather around to watch, squealing, laughing, and cheering. Joe, looking like everything you’ve ever wanted in his brand new snapback, is announced as the MVP of the game, his teammates chanting, “Joe for Heisman!” behind him as he tries to humbly accept the award and the interview. The CBS sportscaster asks him to describe his unthinkable season, giving him the floor and the microphone.

“You know, this is what we’ve worked for. This doesn’t come as a surprise to anybody on this stage right here, we’ve worked for this for our whole lives. 13-0, you don’t get any better…but we’re not done yet,” he promises, sounding sure, but not cocky. Finally, the trophy is presented to Coach O and the team, and when it’s hoisted, the purple and gold confetti falls, pouring all over you.

No one sleeps on the plane ride home.

Being in the SEC Championship has its perks, including boujee travel accommodations for both the football players and the Tiger Girls, given that you can all fit on the same commercial plane. At first the captain turns the lights off, thinking everyone is about to crash at 10pm, but you just hear everyone speaking in hushed whispers until the volume finally grows, and everyone realizes they’re just as awake as the next person. The short hour and a half flight is reserved for celebratory stories, flicking through pictures to post from the game, and a challenging seated game of heads up.

You think about your conversation with Kelia in the locker room, trying to sort out the best way to tell Joe. Not here and now, in front of everyone, in a confined space, but privately. When you’re calm and he’s ready. You just need to breathe, and trust that he will support you through it, because he deserves to know.

But when you land and get in his car…his mom calls. And you know better than to interrupt Robin’s time with Joe.

Okay, I’ll tell him when we get back to his apartment. Then if he needs space, I can just leave.

So you listen to him recall the stories he told on the plane, chiming in whenever it doesn’t feel too invasive, still trying to get on Robin’s good side. They talk all the way to Joe’s apartment, up until you get through the door and kick off your shoes, letting your bag fall to the ground.

When Joe bids her goodbye, he lets out a long sigh, letting his head fall forward and closing his eyes. He presses his palms onto his countertop, and you realize that it looks like he’s hanging on by a thread. He’s been in go-mode for the past four months, and this will be the first time in a long time he won’t have a game for a whole two weeks in a row. In the quiet, he starts rolling his limbs out one by one, a few of them going limp for a few moments before kicking back into gear.

He’s crashing.

You approach Joe slowly, sliding a palm over his strong back and laying out a few long scratches, before bringing your fingers to his neck and massaging a few pressure points. He groans at the contact, leaning towards you and stumbling before catching himself. “That feels good,” Joe murmurs, his eyes drooping and losing focus a few times before he blinks a few times clearing his throat.

I gotta get him to bed.

Joe turns to you, comfortably resting a hand on your waist before lazily kissing you, slowly but deep, until he moves down to your neck.

You roll your eyes.

“You want to have sex right now?” You ask with a giggle, grabbing both sides of Joe’s face from your neck to pull up towards your eye level. He may think he wants to have sex, but he has nowhere near that kind of energy right now. “Sure you won’t fall asleep in the middle of it?”

Joe scoffs, but can barely walk straight as he tries to tug you towards his bedroom.“‘M fine. Lay down,” he slurs, weakly pushing you towards his bed, but you just sidestep, causing him to stumble again.

Stubborn kid, you think to yourself. I’ve gotta fuck him to bed.

And I know just the thing…

You let out a long sniff, in his neck, scrunching up your nose when you notice the stench. “How about…let’s get in the shower,” you offer, grabbing his shoulders to turn him towards his bathroom.

“That sounds like sex to me,” Joe comments with a chuckle, letting you push him around like a ragdoll. The two of you enter Joe’s bathroom, turning on the shower and the fan and shutting the door. Joe starts to undress lethargically, and you help him, tugging one piece off after another until he’s fully nude. “Why aren’t you naked?” He asks with a frown, and you nod towards the shower.

“Get in, I’m right behind you,” you promise, proving your point by starting to remove your sweatpants. Luckily that’s enough for Joe and he shakily steps in, closing the shower curtain behind him in order to prevent water spillage. You get the rest of your clothes off, sighing when you’re finally completely naked, and open the shower curtain.

Joe, who was “completely fine” and not at all tired, is sitting on the stool-like ledge protruding from the wall, his head tipped back and eyes closed while the water runs. At the sound of you entering, his eyes snap open, and he eyes your naked body up and down, grabbing your hips and tugging you onto his lap. He’s quick to start leaving soft, messy kisses on your shoulder.

“Joe, you are literally sitting there basically asleep,” you laugh, but you don’t fight him off.

“Was not,” he mumbles back like a child, continuing to kiss your body as you feel his length start to harden against your ass. You start grinding back against him, needing to get him ready as soon as possible. Joe groans at the friction, likely happy you’re tending to his request, but you have your own plans.

“Don’t get too worked up,” you mumble, standing to reach for his shampoo bottle and squirting a fair amount onto your hands.

Joe lets out a long sigh, his head lolling over to you in faux despair. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he mumbles with a pout, but his eyes gleam as you lather the shampoo in your palms, reaching out for his head. His dick sits half hard in his lap, but he really doesn’t seem to mind, just enjoying the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. Eventually you use a stray cup to rinse out the soap, not wanting him to have to exert any energy to stand and rinse, and move on to the conditioner.

By the time you’re lathering that, Joe obviously starts fixating on the fact that your boobs are at eye level, because his dick goes back to twitching in attention. You ignore it, until you get to his body wash. You start at his strong shoulders, your hands working in circles over the hard muscles, and make your way down his arms.

When you move to his chest, you slowly lower yourself, getting on your knees in front of him, and you watch as he almost glowers. “Sweetheart…” Joe says thickly, but doesn’t stop you. You take the soap and let your fingers fall over his nipples and down his abs, and his cock starts growing thicker. You flick your eyes up to his face, noticing his breathing pick up as he leans his head back against the wall. More soap gathers in your hands, and you spread it all over his thick thighs, watching as his dick stands at full attention now, his tip red from the blood rushing.

“I told you not to get worked up,” you tease in a sing-songy voice, finishing off your torture by washing his shins and rinsing off your hands in the waterfall behind you.

Joe calls your name in a plea, followed by a small, “Please.”

“Oh, Joey,” you coo, bringing your hands back up to his thighs. His glassy eyes stare down at you and you see something in them you’ve never seen before. Desperation. “You’ve done so good already baby, I’m not going to make you beg for it.” With that, you slide your wet hand over to his cock, starting to slowly pump him from base to tip.

“Fuck,” Joe sighs, his head falling back and eyes closing again. You can feel him grow even bigger in your hand, his silky skin turning pink from the blood rushing to his dick, looking so pretty in your dainty hands. You can see his resolve slipping quickly, just like you expected, groans slipping from his lips as you pick up the pace. As he’s lost in pleasure, you lean down and replace your hand with your mouth, sucking diligently to bring him to the edge quickly. Which shouldn’t be hard, considering how tired he is.

A surprised groan reverberates through Joe. “You’re an angel,” he murmurs, cupping a limp hand around your head and into your hair. But your hot, wet mouth and tongue scrape against him just right, and he can’t control himself.

“Fuck, hold on- stop, stop,” Joe pants as he pulls you off of him with the hand on your head, shaking his head and blinking up at the ceiling so he doesn’t have to look at your perfect tits right next to his throbbing cock. “I’m gonna cum already.”

He wants to hold out. For you. But you saw that coming. “Aw, but Joe, you deserve to cum,” you drone on in a sweet, tempting voice, drawing your hand back to his dick to jerk him off in the meantime. He’s not coming back down.

“I don’t…I don’t want to yet,” Joe looks back down at you, his eyes blown wide as he watches you jerk him off, precup already leaking from the tip that you scrape off with your thumb. His eyes almost roll back at that. “No, please baby…” he whines desperately when you kitten lick his slit, lowering your mouth back down on his cock with a soft hum. You set a sloppy pace, his cock almost twitching, and his hand comes to your hair again to stop you, but he’s just too weak. Too tired. Good. “Please, I…I just want to feel you.”

You pop off him at that. “Okay,” you smirk, getting off your knees and immediately straddle Joe’s lap, slamming down on his dick. His length makes your heart lurch, but you know this is all about him, and you don’t plan on letting him last long enough to get you off.

“Oh god,” Joe chokes out, the friction of your walls sucking him in causing heat to surge up quickly. You wrap your arms around his neck and look straight into his needy, panicked eyes. “No, no, no, too fast,” he whimpers, grabbing your hips to try to slow your relentless pace.

“Nuh uh, baby,” you nod your head and grab Joe’s chin, forcing his baby blue eyes to bore into yours. Your tone is sweet, but authoritative. You’re in control now. “You gotta let it go. This is all for you, now you’re going to do what I tell you, and cum.”

“But I-”

“What’s your color Joey?” You ask, wanting to make sure he’s not falling too far into it.

“G-green,” Joe heaves as you continue to drag yourself up and down, fucking the life out of him. “I just- fuck I want-”

“I know,” you whisper against his lips, relishing in the way his pupils are dilated so wide you can barely see the blue. “But you’re gonna cum for me.” Groans and whines fall from Joe’s lips and you see his resolve fade, you just need to shove him over. So you lean over to his ear and let his head fall into your neck.“I know it feels so good…” you whisper teasingly, dangling his release in front of him enough to send him flying off. “Don’t you wanna burst, baby? Don’t you want to see it drip out of my pussy?” You practically moan in his ear, speeding up your pace and squeezing around him so hard you see his thighs shake.

That does it. “Oh god,” Joe sobs, his desperate whines flying out as he finally spills into you. “No…Fuuuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cradle the back of his head as he shoves his face into your chest and neck, groans and whimpers falling from his pretty pouty lips as you ride him through it. “There you go Joey,” you coax him, praising him. “Oh, you’re so good, baby.”

Eventually Joe comes down, his groans fading to heaving pants. When he lifts his head up, you notice the satisfied gleam in his eyes and give him a loving kiss, filled with all the care in the world. When you pull away, you motion down to where you’re still connected, Joe’s hot white cum dripping out of your hole and onto your thighs. “And look at that,” you chirp, dipping a finger in the sticky substance and bringing it up to your lips to taste.

Joe just shakes his head, groaning at the overstimulation as you lift off of him and grab your water cup to get cleaned up. “Please let me-” he starts.

This is about you!

“Joe,” you cut him off, pouring one final large cup of water over his chest and lap to rinse him off. “You did so good.”

“But-”

“Honey, you’re falling over, and I know you’re dead tired now,” you laugh, pressing a soft kiss to Joe’s forehead and turning the shower off. “You can pay me back in the morning.” He finally gives in, letting out an exhausted sigh and smiling at you in a daze. You help him out of his makeshift seat and out of the shower, handing him a warm fluffy towel, and you both start getting dry.

“Thank you,” Joe mutters as he lazily rubs the towel over his body, pulling you into a hug from behind once you’re wrapped in your towel. You grab one of his hands around your waist and bring it up to your mouth for a sweet kiss, then keep that same hand in yours to drag him to his room.

Joe lazily pulls on a pair of boxers, then immediately falls face first onto his bed. You join him, crawling under the covers.

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask quietly, grabbing a glass of water by Joe’s bed and offering it to him.

“Very,” he laughs tiredly, lifting himself up to take a few gulps of water and slide under the covers on top of you. “I’m tired as fuck and you basically just nuked me with melatonin.”

You let out a belly laugh at that, feeling your stomach press up against Joe’s. “Yeah, that was the goal,” you admit, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he nuzzles into your chest. “You need rest.”

“Well, I’m gonna sleep like a baby.”

“Good,” you softly reply, letting your head fall back onto the pillow and your eyes wander back to the ceiling. Not even two minutes later Joe’s breathing has slowed against your chest, so you slowly stretch your arm out to his nightstand, grab his phone, and turn off every single alarm.

You think about telling him. Like Kelia said, the longer you wait the worse it will get. It’s crossed your mind more than once since you got back to Joe’s, and now as your eyes dart around the blank, all consuming ceiling, it’s all you can focus on. He just looks so tired, barely even mobile, and you doubt bringing this ordeal up would be a good idea. After slaving away for months, putting years of preparation into this game, he’s just won thirteen of them in a row and guaranteed himself the highest honor in college football–the Hiesman. There’s nothing that could make you ruin this night for him. Especially over some stupid drama.

Thinking about the entire season and how much work every athlete has put into LSU over these gruesome months reminds you just how much blood, sweat, and tears you’ve put in too. The weight of Joe’s body presses into you like a comforting blanket, his body heat lulling you further and further towards sleep.

You don’t mean to drift off, but you can finally rest now, too.

The next morning, you both drag your feet around, loading up the car your parents left down here last week with the last of your things you need to go home. It’s time for a break before the push towards Nationals, but you absolutely hate to be leaving Joe–not when you’re about to have to tell him you kept something from him. You work up the courage the entire morning to tell him about the messages from Cam and his ex, and now that you’re standing by your car, minutes from leaving, it has to happen. It’s only fair, and as long as you apologize, and explain yourself, you hope he’ll be understanding, because you feel like you’re finally starting to move on from it.

Joe is bringing your last bag up from your apartment, when a notification goes through your Do Not Disturb. That means it’s either from your mom, your sister, or one of the roommates, so you click on it, seeing it’s a text from Kelia.

Attachment: 1 Image

Kelia: the fuck???

You frown, tapping the picture to load, and when you see it, you immediately wish you hadn’t. The photo is a screenshot of Joe’s exes Instagram story, the one from yesterday you swore you wouldn’t view. She’s at her vanity with a coffee mug, makeup products sprawled out everywhere, but what’s on clear display is her bright purple, very oversized sweatshirt that reads LSU on the front in gold letters.

She has the audacity to caption it: “lazy saturday ☁️☺️😴”

You’re shaking. You’re heaving before you can even begin to listen to Joe, who’s calling out your name, likely asking why you look pale and distraught. She still has his sweatshirt? Why didn’t he ask for it back? Thoughts, or more accurately, doubts, run through your head a mile a minute, because you should’ve known that any guy could be like this. Even if he cradles your face like glass and helps your mom cut her steak and restocks your RX bars before you even notice. Because you’re too new. Already a thing of the past. And he has an entire future ahead of him.

It’s that same dirty, nauseating, shameful feeling you discovered when you caught Cam in the act. You’d never wish it upon anyone. Yet here you are, reliving the sick, twisted game the universe so cruelly enjoys watching you play. And, Haha! Laughs the universe. You fell for it again! You hate that tears prick your already woozy vision.

Words tumble out of your mouth before you can choke on them. “What is this?” Your voice trembles, but cuts like a knife as you tilt the phone towards a worried Joe. You don’t care that you probably look crazy, knowing his ex’s Instagram handle, clicking on her story. At first the only look Joe features is one of baffled shock, until you see the faintest hint of recognition flicker in his eyes.

“Hold on-” Joe immediately intercepts your attempt to turn away from him, though you weren’t going to leave. Your throat just feels like it’s about to suffocate, and even though you’re outside there really isn’t enough fresh air in the whole world. Still he uses a light, but desperate grasp on your elbow to make his point.

“Please tell me she’s out of the picture,” you interrupt, shaking off his hand and trying to get straight to the point. You don’t want this moment to last any longer than it has to. He better not fucking lie, because you’ve been through enough boy trouble to last a lifetime, so your patience has worn unbearably thin.

“She is 100% out of my life. I haven’t seen or spoken to her in eight months since I gave her back her things,” Joe is quick to reply, his tone final. His familiar, bright blue eyes lack their usual lighthearted calmness, and opt for a steady, determined shade, like he’s in the thick of analyzing film. Zero bullshit. His words and conviction ease you slightly, but the cawing voice in the back of your head reminds you of your rose colored glasses, and the pit still settled deep in your core.

“Looks like she didn’t exactly return the favor,” you spit out with a bitter, humorless laugh as you motion towards your phone again. The words she DMed you reverberate in your brain again. Let me know in a couple months when he gets bored.

“That is not my sweatshirt,” Joe counters, still defensive, but softer. “It’s not mine. I promise you, she got that herself when I transferred. Can’t believe she’s pulling this shit though, what a fucking–” he cuts himself off, threading all his fingers through his hair with his eyes blown wide like a madman.

You have to think about this logically. Joe has done nothing but prove he cares, and you told yourself you couldn’t push that away like you always do. The sweatshirt is a classic. You’ve seen people all around campus, hell all around Baton Rouge wear that exact sweatshirt millions of times–men, women, and everyone in between. There’s no reason for you to believe Joe is lying, especially if he’s reacting like this. She’s just another person trying to send you reeling, crush you until you’re nothing but a bug at the bottom of her shoe.

The shaking comes back. Not out of anger, fear, or frustration, but exhaustion. You’re just so sick of being messed with. You get one good thing, one good person who finally treats you well, and everyone wants to screw it up, including your own mind.

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed.

“Okay…good,” Joe affirms, but keeps his eyes right on you.

It feels like everything in you is cracking. I’m just so tired. “There’s something else,” you choke out, a rush of emotions coming over you as the dam finally starts to break.

“Okay,” Joe states calmly.

“I’m really sorry,” you confess as tears well up in your eyes, spilling over your cheeks automatically. “I should’ve told you earlier. And I meant to last night.”

At the sight of your tears, Joe’s constantly protective gaze grows stronger. “Woah, what’s going on sweetheart?” He asks, bringing a hand to your upper back and rubbing in slow circles.

Sobs start to leave your lips as everything crashes down. Your biggest fears start flying out of your mouth, and you feel the most vulnerable you ever have as you lay it all out there. “It’s just…I get so scared I’m going to mess this up. Because you’re so good to me and I…I try so hard to not mess it up and it happens anyways. I just didn’t…I didn’t want to bother you, or be a big deal, or- or cause a scene. I didn’t want this to scare us off, just because of something that’s literally all in my head.”

“Cause a scene?” Joe questions, keeping his voice low as he consoles you. “Okay, can you breathe for me? That’s it, baby. Breathe. You’re not bothering me, I’m just concerned. Whatever this is, you can’t let it keep killing you.”

“She messaged me,” you admit, your glassy eyes finally meeting Joe’s concerned ones, before they turn furious.

“She what?”

You tell him everything. Show him screenshots. You watch as he processes the information one by one, his reactions shifting from rage, to frustration, to sorrow. And you try really hard to shove tears away, because you know you’ve done this to yourself by keeping it from him, but the stress from the past few weeks all jumbles in your mind until your cheeks are hot and wet.

I’m trying. I’m trying. I’m trying.

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you tell me?”

“Everything was so good,” you sniffle. “You’re so good to me. I haven’t been this happy in years, and I couldn’t live with myself if something as stupid as this ruined it. But I guess I let that happen anyway.”

I swear I’m trying.

“Stop. They knew what they were fucking doing, guilting you like that,” Joe growls, pulling you closer to him and keeping his hand rubbing your back. You have to admit it’s helping guide your breath perfectly.

“I should’ve told you. It’s just…” you trail off as the tears finally start to fade, too tired to keep repeating yourself. “I swear to you, I’m trying.”

Joe’s sigh reeks of pity, but you don’t even care. “I know. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I’m glad you told me now, that means you’re growing,” he explains softly, then brings a hand up to the side of your face to ensure you’re looking right into his baby blues. “But listen. I am serious about this. About you.”

“I know that. I am too,” you assure, your voice falling to a whisper. “I just get…scared.”

“Remember what I said when I asked you to be my girlfriend? I said I wouldn’t treat you like that motherfucker. And I meant it,” Joe affirms, not letting you look away once. “I want to be better because of you. You’re so strong and beautiful, and I know you don’t need it, but baby you are so important to me that it has now become my utmost responsibility to protect you. So when you get scared don’t run away from me, run towards me, because I will always protect you. Okay?” His words wrap around you like a blanket, your own personal suit of armor that can keep you from all those bad things. The idea is nice, even if it’s not foolproof. You just need to trust him.

“How about when you’re too scared to say something just yet…we go bowling.”

“Bowling?”

“Yeah. Like our first date.” The idea sits in your head for a moment. Both of you taking turns letting go of something heavy, one finger at a time until it has time to roll and mull around your minds at a steady pace, finally knocking down any barriers it may be forming between you.

“Okay. Bowling.”

When you arrive in your hometown this time, nothing helps. Everything feels barren, a wasteland where you’re stuck in a time loop of nothing to do, hear, or see. You go for runs, walk through the Tiger Girls dance numbers, find time to catch up with old friends, but you can’t shake the feeling of no routine.

Relief comes on Monday night, when the Heisman finalists are announced. Joe obviously makes the list, and you’re over the moon. You immediately get your phone out to call him, and fear strikes you when you think of the last conversation you had.

It makes you think of your sister. She asked about Joe almost immediately when you got home, so you confessed the entire story to her, as well. You told her how you still feel awful about how everything went down before you left to come home, and you wish you could see him just to make sure you’re both still good. Trusting each other.

“Well,” she said. “Didn’t you guys just have this huge conversation about how you need to trust that he will protect you?”

And she got you with that one. You were already reverting back to your old ways.

So you’re sitting here, finger hovered over the FaceTime button, heart thumping because you’re going to have to be vulnerable. Again.

This is exhausting.

Before you can think about it twice, you hit the button, and it rings twice before Joe’s soft face fills your screen and you almost cry right then and there.

“Joe,” you coo, a smile immediately spreading on your face.

“What’s up baby?” Joe laughs, beaming back at you. He looks to be in his bed, looking up at you from his pillow.

“Congratulations,” you squeal, assuming he already has the news of the Heisman finalists.

“Thank you,” he giggles at your reaction, looking around his room before speaking again. “I mean, we kind of knew this was coming. But it’s…all very surreal.”

“I’m sure,” you nod. “I’m still so proud. You’re incredible.” Joe brings a hand up to the back of his neck at that, looking off to the side while you laugh at his shy demeanor. He’s quick to change the subject.

“How’s my good ol prankster Maddie?”

You talk for a good thirty minutes about home. Dan is starting to look at wedding venues, Maddie is in fact plotting to pull off her latest harmless prank on your dad, and Robin is baking a million pumpkin items for Joe in celebration of all his recent achievements. When you’re both done rambling, Joe’s face turns serious, and you can tell he’s thinking about you. The last time he saw you.

“How are you feeling, baby,” he asks softly, like he's right there cradling you in his arms. Your warm expression turns distant in the little box in the corner of your screen, and you think about what Maddie said. You need to trust that he will protect you. But you’re a little too afraid to let it all out at once. So you take baby steps.

“I’m feeling…I feel like we need to go bowling,” you mutter slowly. I feel scared.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel like we need to go bowling too. It doesn’t feel right to be so far from you,” Joe agrees, nodding softly as his expression turns somber. “Especially after the last time I saw you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m…” you start, working up the courage. “I’m okay. I just feel awful about how you must’ve felt. I feel…guilty.”

“Don’t feel guilty,” Joe grumbles, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “They’re the ones who felt the need to hurt you while you were just minding your business.” You go quiet at that, still fighting to simply get out of your own head. It’s a process, but you’re learning what it’s like to not be blamed for everything, and you’ll get through it slowly but surely.

“Come to Ohio.”

Your eyes go wide at that. “What?”

“I mean, don’t, if you don’t want to,” Joe stutters out defensively before gathering himself again. “I just mean, I want to see you, and I think we should…go bowling.” Your thoughts race a mile a minute. Doubts, fears, insecurities, until you slam that door closed, because those are the thoughts you need to be standing up to. Saying, No. I am enough, this is good for me, and I do deserve it. So you take a deep breath, looking at the one person you want to see right now through your iPhone camera, and say, “I want to see you. I’m coming.”

After a long conversation with your mom about the safety of road tripping, a reminder of how well she got along with Joe’s parents at your joint dinner, and a promise that you refuse to engage in any kind of sexual intercourse under Robin’s roof, you’re on the road, on your way to Athens, Ohio. The drive is long, and not very scenic, but you have podcasts and new albums to listen to that keep you occupied.

And when you get there, it’s everything you need. You’re greeted by the Burrows with open arms, surprisingly enough by Robin, as well as Jimmy, Jamie and Dan. The one way gravel roads Joe and his brothers give you a hometown tour on, the fresh air free of Louisiana’s sticky humidity, and neighbors that know everyone’s business, because everyone knows everyone. The air is actually cold. Crisp, perfect sweatshirt weather, nipping at your nose in the best way, reminding you of the steady approaching holiday season you need to go shopping for. You think Maddie would die happy if you got Ja’marr to sign a jersey or a ball, or hell, her forehead.

When you get back, Robin is waiting with a warm, home cooked meal, table set with one extra chair and plate. You don’t feel as hesitant around them anymore, now that you’ve been honest with Joe…and quite frankly, honest with yourself. You’ve been lying to yourself, telling yourself you could handle things you clearly could not. Things you did not need to handle alone. Now that you know you need work, it’s easier to be honest with other people about it too.

Maybe it’s not so exhausting.

After dinner, Joe asks if you all can go bowling. Robin laughs, and says, “Sure, why the hell not!” Joe tells her it was your idea. You slide on the goofy shoes, try trick shots with your eyes closed, almost cramp up laughing so hard at Dan’s impression of Joe’s prep. Jimmy wins in the end. You drive home beaming.

When you get back, you get a text from your mom that you need to email this lawyer that teaches at LSU about your possible career and study paths, or else she’ll drive to Ohio herself and bring you back. Okay, mom.

So, you plop yourself down on the dining room table while everyone else starts settling into their rooms, and Joe is about to leave to go pick up his LSU letterman from a neighbor whose son borrowed it for a Halloween costume. The glow of your laptop burns your eyes as you pull up your email, and you groan until Joe comes bounding down the stairs, heading for the door with his keys in hand.

“Going to get my letterman,” Joe sighs, grabbing the sides of your head and pressing a kiss to your hair as he passes you. The entire day has felt so domestic, your heart warming with his soft touch.

“Okay, have fun,” you reply softly. Joe shoves the door open lazily, sliding on some random slippers.

“I’ll be back in 15, okay? Bye, I love you!” Joe calls out, the thud of the front door immediately following. You turn your attention back to your laptop, your body slumping back down into a hermit position-

Wait.

A jolt runs through you as you process what he just said. Did he just tell me-

The door swings open again, revealing Joe who takes a total of one step back into the house before staring straight at you bewildered. Your mouth is open, but no words come out. A few seconds of sheer shock and silence pass, before Joe takes a deep breath in and repeats himself, softer this time. Intentionally. “I love you.”

He did.

Your heart bursts, and every scrap of normalcy leaves you as you hurl yourself at Joe, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his without a care in the world. His hands grip your waist like a vice, and on his soft mouth you feel it, oh god you can feel it, I love you, I love you, I love you. You hope he can feel it too, because you haven’t actually said it back yet, but it’s true, it really is. So you lean back, pressing your foreheads together with the widest grin on your face.

“Bye,” you whisper against Joe, a bright, sparkling thrill rushing down your spine when your lips softly brush his. “I love you,” you say next, desperately trying to stop your mouth from curling into a wide smile as Joe is immediately on you again, the tension in his shoulders releasing like a dam. He melts into you like butter, the soft caress of his lips and the gentle hold he has on both sides of your face making your heart soar out of your chest. Eventually you can’t kiss anymore because you’re just giggling, at the fact that this happened on accident, and the giddiness of being in love, at the goofy, stupid way Joe’s big endearing nose nudges yours every time he leans in, there’s a million things to be giggling about because you love him. And he loves you.

Finally Joe lets you go, pushing you back towards the table with little effort. “Send your emails,” he goofily commands with a dramatic point, heading for the door again. “Goodbye. I love you!” He shouts out towards his front lawn as he grabs the handle. You laugh, of course. Always.

“I love you!” You call out to him. And you do.

After that, you can’t focus on sending your email. You try, you really do, but every time you just get dragged back into that moment, replaying it in your head on a loop. You’re smiling at your laptop like a fool for five minutes, until a picture catches your eye on the side table of the couch. You squint at it, seeing Joe in an LSU uniform, and wonder if it would be insanely invasive to get a closer look. But you think to yourself, they wouldn’t put it out if they didn’t want people to see it, so you abandon your laptop and walk over.

You approach slowly, looking down the main hall of the house to see if anyone is coming, until you reach the side table. When you analyze the picture further, a small gasp leaves your lips.

It’s the picture. The picture Grace took of you and Joe on his senior night.

She wasn’t shooing her away. She was asking for the picture.

“You two look so cute in that one,” Robin’s voice rings out behind you and you jump, your heart settling when you realize what she said. You look back at the picture, the two of you beaming with Death Valley behind you.

“I love this picture,” you confess, running your fingers along the wooden frame it’s contained in. It’s been a week, and she already had it printed and framed.

“He’s really lucky to have you, you know,” Robin smiles at you, nodding. Your heart stops. “ I know I can seem like a lot. But Joe wasn’t lying when he said he always talks about you. He told us all about how you’re the reason he got through the Alabama game. I was probably on the phone with him for a combined five hours before your first date helping him out. I mean, how much advice can a mom really give?” She throws her hands up with wide eyes, and you chuckle together.

“He’s never been like that before. He would always tell me, as long as he was prepared, he could do anything without blinking, no hesitation. He planned, and thought that date over a million times…and still called me an hour before scared shitless. So, you know, I asked him, ‘You really like this girl, huh?’ He told me, ‘I’ve never felt anything like her.’”

You feel like you could cry. You think about what Joe just told you, that he loves you, and that you love him. God, it doesn’t even feel real to think about. You think Robin can see your reaction on your face, because she just continues. “I know this is all very sudden, so feel free to say no. Hell, I probably would,” she chuckles, sucking in a breath. “But Joe’s cousin–you’ve met him, Bradley?–he was supposed to come with us to the Heisman ceremony and all that, but something came up. We have an extra ticket, if you’d like to join us in New York.”

You never thought a day like this would come. Especially so soon. But then again, you never thought Robin would let you come to Ohio at this stage. But this–the Heisman ceremony?–that’s a family event, one they’ll all remember for years to come.

“Oh, I really don’t want to intrude–”

“You’re not intruding at all,” Robin confirms, placing a delicate hand on your shoulder, then looks to the picture you’re still holding. You let her take it, analyzing the breathless look on both your faces before she continues with a chuckle. “Besides, if you say yes, I kind of want to see the look on Joe’s face when you tell him.”

You remember what Maddie said. What you said to yourself on the phone with Joe. I am enough, this is good for me, and I do deserve it.

You deserve good things.

“I’d love to be there.”

Last chapter coming soon.

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