#Coding classes in Los Angeles

[optimuslearningschool]

Discover Fun and Learning at Top Math and Reading Summer Camps Near Me This Season!

Why Choose Math and Reading Summer Camps Near Me?

Summer is the perfect time to give kids a fun break while helping them stay sharp. Math and reading summer camps near me offer the ideal mix of learning and fun. These local programs are designed to help children build confidence in core skills, meet new friends, and explore exciting challenges in a relaxed, creative environment.

What Makes These Camps Special?

These camps focus on personalized attention, small group settings, and hands-on activities. Whether your child needs extra support or wants to get ahead, these camps make learning enjoyable. From solving math puzzles to exploring stories and building vocabulary, kids stay engaged without the pressure of school.

Benefits of Joining Local Camps

Convenient locations for busy families

Affordable options with flexible schedules

Boosts academic skills before the new school year

FAQs

Q1: What age groups are the camps for? Most camps serve kids from ages 5 to 14.

Q2: Are the programs fun or just academic? They balance learning with games, art, and outdoor play!

Q3: How long do the camps run? Typically, 1 to 4 weeks, depending on the program.

Conclusion

If you’ve been searching for Math and reading summer camps near me, these local programs are a great choice to keep your child growing, learning, and having fun all summer long! Facebook Pinterest Instagram YouTube Twitter

[glowettee]

✧˖° studying without suffering: how to actually enjoy learning (yes, it’s possible)

✧˖° let’s talk.

hey angels, it's mindy!

most people treat studying like a punishment. something to be endured, not enjoyed. it’s that thing you force yourself to do, like taking bitter medicine or running a mile in gym class. but what if that’s the reason you struggle with it?

the secret? you were never meant to hate learning.

somewhere along the way, school made it boring. maybe you had teachers who sucked the fun out of it. maybe you associate studying with stress, deadlines, and exhaustion. but learning is supposed to be exciting. when you actually enjoy it, everything changes. you focus longer, retain more, and (ironically) spend less time studying because your brain actually absorbs the information.

so, let’s fix it. let’s make studying something you want to do instead of something you suffer through.

✧˖° ➼ step 1: detach learning from school

(school & learning are not the same thing. stop letting school ruin your curiosity.)

the first mindset shift? realize that school does not own learning.

➼ school is about structure, deadlines, and tests. it’s designed to measure performance. ➼ learning is about curiosity, deep thinking, and exploration. it’s designed to expand your mind. and help you grow as a person.

if you’ve only ever studied because you had to, your brain associates it with pressure. break that pattern. find something outside of school that you actually like learning about. philosophy, psychology, art history, neuroscience, fashion design, whatever makes you curious.

even if it’s unrelated to your classes, it rewires your brain to see learning as an intrinsic activity, not just an obligation. once you enjoy learning in general, you can transfer that energy back into your studies.

✧˖° ➼ step 2: romanticize the process (but actually make it feel good)

("romanticizing studying" doesn’t mean just buying cute stationery. let’s go deeper.)

sensory association is everything. your brain links experiences to the way they feel physically. so if studying feels uncomfortable, you’ll avoid it. the solution? make it a luxurious experience for your senses.

✧ visuals → clean, minimalist desk, soft lighting, aesthetic study materials ✧ sound → rain sounds, classical piano, lo-fi beats (music that enhances focus) ✧ touch → cozy blankets, warm tea, smooth pens gliding over paper ✧ scent → vanilla candles, fresh coffee, the pages of an old book

this isn’t just about aesthetics. it’s neuroscience. when studying feels pleasurable, your brain stops resisting it.

✧˖° ➼ step 3: use high-dopamine study techniques

(forcing yourself to study the “normal” way is why you hate it.)

some study methods are literally designed to be boring. ditch them.

instead, try:

➼ blurting method: instead of passively reading, close your book and write down everything you remember. then check what you missed. (way more engaging than just re-reading notes.) ➼ dual-coding: mix visuals with text. draw tiny sketches next to your notes. turn concepts into mind maps. watch a video explaining a topic right after reading about it. ➼ pomodoro stacking: instead of the typical 25-minute study sprints, customize it. (ex: 50 min deep focus + 10 min break with an actual reward.) ➼ interleaving technique: mix subjects instead of block studying. it forces your brain to stay engaged.

stop making studying harder than it needs to be. find what works for you, and your brain will stop fighting it.

✧˖° ➼ step 4: make studying social (but in a smart way)

(because you’re not supposed to do this alone.)

studying alone for hours? miserable. but studying with others who are just as serious as you? instant motivation boost.

but instead of chaotic group study sessions where no one gets anything done, try:

✧ parallel studying: hop on facetime or join a study livestream. silent, focused, but together. ✧ teaching method: explain concepts to a friend. if you can teach it, you truly understand it. ✧ study accountability: check in with someone daily. send each other your study goals, no excuses.

even just knowing someone else is studying at the same time can trick your brain into feeling more engaged.

✧˖° ➼ step 5: shift your identity

("i hate studying" isn’t a personality trait. it’s a mindset problem.)

if you keep saying “i hate studying,” your brain will never enjoy it. change the narrative.

➼ instead of “i suck at studying,” try → “i’m learning how to study in a way that works for me.” ➼ instead of “i can’t focus,” try → “i’m training my brain to focus longer every day.” ➼ instead of “i don’t feel like it,” try → “i’m someone who gets things done, whether i feel like it or not.”

become the type of person who enjoys learning. once that becomes your identity, everything else follows.

✧˖° ➼ step 6: create emotional attachment to your goals

motivation dies when your goals feel distant and impersonal. if you’re studying just because you “have to,” it’s easy to procrastinate. but if you link it to something deeply personal, it becomes non-negotiable.

try this: visualize your future self. imagine the version of you who already achieved everything you want. who is she? what does she do? how does she study?

then, make it emotional. ✧ if you dream of getting into your dream school, print pictures of it. make a vision board. ✧ if you want financial freedom, imagine the luxury of never stressing over money. ✧ if you want to be respected in your field, remind yourself that your knowledge is your power.

when you make studying personal, it stops being a chore. it becomes a commitment.

✧˖° ➼ step 7: stop making everything harder than it needs to be

(struggling doesn’t mean you’re working harder. it just means you’re struggling.)

too many people study inefficiently because they think suffering = productivity. but studying smarter is always better than studying longer.

some ways to make it easier on yourself: ➼ use study apps → quizlet, pomdoro apps for focus, notion for organization ➼ summarize like you’re texting a friend → rewrite notes in your own words, no unnecessary fluff ➼ study in “levels” → don’t jump straight into deep studying. warm up with light review, then increase intensity ➼ take advantage of spaced repetition → stop cramming, your brain retains more when you review over time

efficiency = less stress, better results. don’t work harder than necessary.

✧˖° ➼ step 8: replace toxic productivity with high-performance habits

studying 10 hours in one night ≠ academic excellence. true high-achievers prioritize sustainability.

➼ quit glorifying exhaustion. taking breaks improves focus. it’s not laziness. ➼ learn when to walk away. if you’re zoning out, step away. 10 minutes of real focus > 2 hours of fake studying. ➼ protect your sleep. all-nighters don’t make you hardcore, they make you ineffective. your brain processes info while you sleep.

the goal isn’t to study the longest. it’s to study in a way that keeps your mind sharp and focused.

✧˖° ➼ step 9: master the “dopamine pull” method

instead of forcing motivation, use dopamine to your advantage.

➼ habit stacking → pair studying with something enjoyable (ex: study while drinking your favorite matcha) ➼ mini rewards → after finishing a chapter, reward yourself with something small but satisfying ➼ gamification → track progress like a video game. every completed task = a “level up”

your brain loves dopamine. give it reasons to associate studying with good feelings.

✧˖° ➼ step 10: let go of perfectionism (but keep high standards)

perfectionism leads to procrastination and burnout. instead of striving for flawless, aim for consistent excellence.

✧ done is better than perfect. stop rewriting notes 5 times. ✧ progress is the goal. each study session should move you forward, even if it’s small. ✧ your worth is not your grades. strive for success, but don’t let school define you.

when you release perfectionism, you actually start achieving more. keep your standards high, but don’t let them paralyze you.

✧˖° mindy’s personal tips

(things that helped me romanticize studying & actually make it enjoyable:)

➼ set a 5-minute timer. just start. most of the time, your brain stops resisting once you begin. ➼ don’t let study guilt ruin your breaks. rest is productive. ➼ have a “study fit.” i swear, dressing up just a little makes a difference. ➼ invest in one high-quality pen. something that glides effortlessly. small detail, huge difference. ➼ study in cafés, libraries, parks. switch locations to keep it interesting. ➼ make it ✧ cozy ✧. fuzzy socks, oversized sweaters, soft blankets. your comfort matters.

✧˖° homework: rewire your study experience

➼ for one of your study sessions this week, try at least two of the techniques above. ➼ write a short journal entry: how do you want to feel while studying? how can you make that happen? ➼ change just one thing about your study setup that makes it more enjoyable.

then come back & tell me. did studying feel better? (you can always message me or send me an ask in my inbox)

[jassy2uall]

– Heart Like A Habit 🧡 (pt. 1)

Highschool!Billie Eilish x black fem!reader

“You're the new girl—just trying to survive another school year in a place where you know no one. But then there’s her—Billie Eilish, the infamous heartbreaker and rising star who somehow has you completely hooked, whether you like it or not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alycia hated first days. New schools, new faces, and always the same overwhelming feeling of being out of place. But it was her reality. Her mom was a travel nurse, and moving was just part of the job.

She never had the chance to make long-term friends—except for Jennie, whom she met two years ago when she and her mom were in Florida. As always, Alycia tried not to get too close, knowing another move could happen at any moment. But Jennie was different. Sweet, persistent, and completely unbothered by distance. She swore they’d stay friends no matter what. And two years later, they still were.

Last night, Alycia stayed up venting to Jennie about how nervous she was. Jennie had laughed, teasing that she should be used to this by now. But Alycia didn’t find it funny. Constantly adjusting to new schools, new people, and new routines was draining—exhausting, really. And today, she had to do it all over again.

She leaned back in the car seat, letting out a long sigh as she stared out the windshield. Los Angeles High School. Great. She hated starting in the middle of the school year, especially now, in her sophomore year. The idea of trying to fit into a school that had already established its friendships, cliques, and unspoken rules felt impossible.

Outside, students bustled past, laughing, chatting, completely at ease in a place that already felt foreign to her. Her eyes lingered on a group of cheerleaders near the entrance, huddled around their jock boyfriends, kissing without a care in the world. It was like a scene straight out of a high school movie—one she had no desire to be a part of.

Typical. Same school, different city. Same drama, same feeling of being on the outside looking in.

Alycia glanced down at her schedule. First period: English with Mr. Brown. Ten minutes until class started, and she had no idea where the room was. The thought of asking someone made her stomach twist. It wasn’t that she was shy��okay, maybe a little—but she hated drawing attention to herself.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her backpack and stepped out of the car. You’ve done this before. You can do it again.

She barely made it a few steps before a voice called from behind her.

“Hey! What’s your name?”

Alycia ignored it. She didn’t even bother turning around. Probably one of the jocks thinking he was charming. She kept walking, pretending she didn’t hear.

The cheerleaders nearby shot her judgmental stares as she passed, their perfect hair and perfect makeup only adding to her irritation. They were in their own little world, and she wasn’t invited. Not that she wanted to be.

Pushing through the main doors, Alycia was immediately hit with the chaos of the hallway. The walls were painted in bright, clashing colors—reds, yellows, whites—like the school was trying too hard to be fun. The floors looked like confetti, an overwhelming mix of patterns that made her head spin.

Everywhere she turned, students rushed past, chatting, laughing, slamming lockers. It was a sensory overload, but at least it distracted her from how out of place she felt.

She glanced at the clock—five minutes until class. She needed to find her way. Fast.

And then—she walked straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” Alycia blurted out, immediately bending down to pick up the girl’s phone.

The girl barely acknowledged her, just stared with an expression of pure annoyance—like Alycia had personally ruined her day. She had curly brown hair, fair skin, and a sharp, unimpressed gaze. Her outfit completely ignored the dress code—white crop top, short denim skirt over black leggings, and black leather boots. The strong scent of cigarette smoke clung to her like a signature.

“Watch where you’re going, loser,” the girl muttered, snatching her phone back.

Alycia froze. What the hell?

“I—uh—” She swallowed hard, heart sinking. She hadn’t even done anything wrong, and already, someone hated her. Perfect.

The girl huffed, barely glancing at her. “You’re lucky I have to get to Mr. Brown’s class.”

Alycia perked up. “Wait, you do? That’s great!” she said—too enthusiastically, judging by the way the girl’s expression twisted into even more irritation.

Alycia quickly backtracked. “I—I just meant it’s good because I’m new, and I have no idea where it is.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Great. Now I’m being harassed by the new kid.” With a dramatic sigh, she turned and stalked off toward the stairs.

Alycia hesitated but followed. She had no other choice.

When they reached the top, the girl walked through the first door on the right without looking back. Alycia took a deep breath, steadying herself before stepping inside.

The moment she entered, the classroom went silent.

Okay, maybe not silent—but it felt like every pair of eyes landed on her at once. Alycia tensed, gripping her backpack straps like a lifeline.

“Odessa!” A girl with flawless brown skin and long black braids called from across the room. “Right over here, queen,” she waved, motioning toward a seat in front of her.

Odessa—the same girl who had just called Alycia a loser—smirked, sauntering over like she owned the place. She slid into the seat effortlessly, her confidence radiating. The girl behind her draped an arm around her, smiling as if they were sharing an inside joke.

Alycia scanned the room for an open seat. Most were taken, but one stood out—the one across from Odessa and directly behind a dark-haired girl who immediately caught her eye.

She had fair skin, deep blue eyes, and an effortless coolness about her. Baggy clothes, oversized shirt, dark hair pulled back just enough to show off a sharp jawline. She was casually chatting with Odessa and her friend, laughing like they had all the time in the world.

Something about her was… different.

Alycia’s stomach twisted—not with nerves, but with something else entirely.

Before she could process it, the sharp ring of the bell filled the room. A tall man walked in, adjusting his glasses and setting a stack of papers on the desk. Mr. Brown. A few last-minute students rushed in behind him.

Alycia hesitated for just a second longer before forcing herself to move.

She slid into the open seat.

The girl behind her turned slightly, blue eyes flickering over Alycia before looking away, completely unbothered.

Alycia exhaled.

Here goes nothing.

End of pt. 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[justinsentertainmentcorner]

Liz Plank at Airplane Mode:

There are many ways to declare that you’re a loser. But publicly announcing that a pop star is “no longer hot” because she doesn’t like you? That’s not just loser behavior, it’s the emotional equivalent of throwing a juice box at a girl you like across the cafeteria. It’s giving worst person you went to high school with somehow got the nuclear codes.

In his latest desperate grasp for relevance, the President of the United States paused his constitutional demolition tour to announce that Taylor Swift is “no longer hot.” Which, of course, is what every emotionally stunted man says when a woman rejects him and controls the economy, the culture, and her own narrative. Because nothing screams strong masculine leadership like whining that a woman stopped being attractive the moment she stopped tolerating you. Trump’s emotional breakdown might also be strategic. Maybe he’s trying to distract us from the fact that he wants to disappear the 14th Amendment and strip citizenship from babies born on American soil. Or maybe, it’s just unbearable for him to see a woman with more power, more influence, and frankly, more masculine integrity than he’s ever had in his life. Taylor Swift is not just hot. She’s respected, beloved, and she pays her damn workers. Trump leaves contractors unpaid and runs casinos into the ground like a parody of monopoly on meth. Meanwhile, Taylor Swift gives six-figure bonuses to her tour crew. She doesn’t steal service workers’ health insurance, she leaves them huge cash tips. She didn’t need a scam university, a fake charity, or a golden elevator. She didn’t have to grift her way into wealth— she built it.

She became a billionaire the old-fashioned way: with talent, discipline, generosity, and sparkle. Her Eras Tour alone contributed over $5 billion to the U.S. economy—just in consumer spending. In Los Angeles, six shows added $320 million to the local GDP. She paid her truck drivers $100,000 bonuses. That’s not just hot. That’s powerful. Meanwhile, Trump became a (maybe) billionaire by filing bankruptcy so many times it looks like he has a yearly subscription. His economic legacy? A 39% spike in the national debt, 3 million jobs lost, and a stock market crash during his first 100 days that wiped out trillions. His tariffs were so poorly planned they’re expected to cost middle-class households $22,000 each in long-term losses.

You’re just jealous of Taylor Swift because she’s an actual self-made billionaire, unlike you, Donnie.

[richarlotte]

charlotte, you’ve worked at golf clubs before. any input on the posts like this? the ones that say: “ladies if u want a summer job i can't stress this enough work at a country club or private golf club. i make so much in tips every year. key points: wear pigtails, play dumb, wear a signature perfume, miniskirts #only, and oil up! look like a fucking disco ball when the sun hits you. in conclusion just be pretty, smile nod and laugh. old white men on golf courses want to throw money around like it's their dick”.

The higher the class, the stricter you have start off.

Most clubs have a dress code and conduct code. The advice you see to wear “mini skirts” or dress/act provocatively won’t fly with management or impress most members. If there’s a dress code for members, a dress code for employees, and a set of standards that everyone has to adhere to, you’ll find that doing your own thing really won’t work the way you want it to.

The Los Angeles clubs have a strict “we won’t serve you; we won’t even seat you” rule; the clubs in the wealthier enclaves will put strikes against you; the East Coast and South are entirely different ball games; and no one is exempt from the rules. If you plan on being an employee, you have to be willing to follow the rules and learn what will work. Blacklists exist for members and employees; don’t end up on one because you don’t understand patience or how to act in a soft setting.

The more exclusive the club, the less patience they have for people who aren’t willing to follow the rules. I got my biggest tips when I followed the lead of the girls who’d worked multiple summers at the same clubs, knew which rules to follow and which to bend, and would frequently walk away from an afternoon with $2,500 cash in their pockets. You have to follow the rules of the game instead of doing whatever you want.

Let me know if you want a post about black bev cart girls or a general overview of my experience/what to wear for that sort of job. It can be a bit complicated when you’re first starting.

[laurenairay]

I can't help it if I like it - M. Martin

Summary: Dhara Nicholls is just trying to make ends meet while working on her Masters degree. Enter Matt Martin.

This is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2k24! My giftee is @comphy-and-cozy and I hope I incorporated everything we discussed. This is the second longest fic I’ve ever written on here and I had genuinely so much fun writing it! Definitely written with a lot of creative license, not only because Matt and Sydney are couple goals, but also because I completely fudged the season dates. I also modelled Dhara’s degree and work after one of my best friends, and her Sikh faith after another friend, so it is as accurate as I could make it without experiencing it all myself.

I hope you enjoy it C! And thank you to Demi for reading through the first half of this monster!

Words: 13.7k

Warnings: age gap, flirting, pining, extremely slow burn, implied intimate moment, some bad language, changed names of Matt’s irl wife and children

Title from Shotput by Still Woozy Lyrics used from Middle of the Night by Elley Duhé

~

Waiter/Waitress…

Bartender…

Tutor…

Barista…

Cashier…

Of all the things to leave to the last minute. Dhara usually prided herself on her organisational skills, but with her summer internship taking up most of the past couple of months, finding a part-time job to give her disposable income (and food, for that matter) for the final year of her postgraduate degree had slipped her mind. Rents had gone up quite significantly in the past few months, so anything extra she had last year was pouring directly into paying for her tiny apartment, and she needed to eat, damn it.

Unfortunately, now that it was already August, there was nothing truly suitable. She needed flexible hours, that was for sure – some of her data modelling work couldn’t just be stopped in the middle of a good coding flow to pick up a shift at a bar. And some of her classes were online this final year, so she wouldn’t find it as easy to travel back and forth to a job on campus. Tutoring could potentially work but it would involve a fair amount of planning and structure that she wasn’t sure she could commit to.

This was the worst timing. And she’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t ask her parents for help, not when she was so close to finally finishing her education. But what could she do?

“Hey Dhara!”

She turned her head to the side quickly, dark curls whipping over her shoulder, before she smiled. The familiar voice indeed matched one of her former dormmates, Melissa. They had lived on the same floor in freshman year at NYU, but with limited student housing, most of the friends on that floor had gone their separate ways into private renting. She’d lost touch with a few of those girls too, after they graduated from their undergraduate degrees, but those she still kept in touch with had carried on their education like she had – only Melissa and another of their friends Janelle had taken up postgraduate study at Long Island University – Brooklyn though, so it was good to see her familiar face outside of the occasional coffee catch-ups, especially after the long summer break.

“Melissa! Hi! How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good, glad to be back in the city. How are you? Did you travel back to LA to see your parents in the end?”

“I’m pretty good too, thanks. And no, the internship offer was too good to turn down. My parents went on a few trips by themselves anyway, so it’s not like I missed out on too much time with them,” Dhara shrugged, smiling, “Now I’m just trying to get myself set up for final year.”

She loved her parents – really, she did – but she wasn’t as close to them as she had been growing up. The downfall of choosing to study far away from home. Dhara had barely been back to Los Angeles since she moved to New York when she turned 18, if she was being honest, and her parents valued her independence as well as her dedication to her studies. At least they could rely on video calls to see each other’s faces.

“Oh man, tell me about it. Shitty rent increases, right?” Melissa groaned.

“Exactly!” Dhara laughed, “I’m just trying to find something that’ll let me be flexible so I can graduate to the best of my ability, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Melissa sighed, smiling sympathetically, “I’ve got a couple of interviews at coffee chains lined up, but the hours are going to be brutal.”

Dhara grimaced. Yeah, there was a reason she wanted to avoid working as a barista unless there was no other option.

“Hey, you like kids, right?”

Dhara raised an eyebrow at her friend’s question. “I…do. I have plenty of cousins who have kids already, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

“A friend of my roommate works for a nannying agency. Completely certified company, really well paid, you can input your available hours into their website so they match you up, and they cater to a lot of wealthy clients. She told me they’re opening their books, but I’m not a huge kids person myself. If you’re interested, I could pass you her details?”

“Wait, really? Just like that?” Dhara asked, surprised.

It almost sounded too good to be true.

“Really really. The agency do background checks and would want to see your resume as well as do an interview with you in person, but I can’t see you getting rejected from this. You’re crazy smart and super competent,” Melissa shrugged, smiling.

Nannying. For a potentially wealthy client. There were a whole host of problems that could come from that, with both the parents and the children, but could the flexibility be worth it?

Then again, what did she have to lose?

“Okay sure, pass me her details and I’ll give your roommate’s friend a call,” Dhara smiled.

She could only hope this worked out in her favour.

~

Time was running out, Matt knew that much. There were only a few weeks before the season started up again, and it was beyond time for him to hire a nanny for his daughter. He’d been a single dad for two years now, his marriage ending mostly amicably. Sure, his ex-wife’s announcement that she was tired of following him around for his career had been hard, but not as hard as her second announcement that she was following her own career abroad. But she’d not contested anything he'd asked of her, and hadn’t made any unreasonable demands herself, so it was as clean as a divorce could be. Being solely responsible for the upbringing of their daughter Sarah was not something he’d been prepared for, not with his lifestyle. He knew he was lucky that his mom had been willing drop everything and move in with him after his wife left them, but it was time to let his mom live her own life – and for him to move on with his.

Hockey was his first love, nothing would change that. But his daughter Sarah had taken over so much of his heart that he was struggling with the idea of hiring a stranger to take care of her when hockey took precedence. But it was time – for all of them. In the end, he’d decided to go through a reputable agency that a few of the guys on the team recommended, but after three unsuccessful interviews Matt was just about ready to beg his mom to stay a little longer.

The first interview had started well. But it had quickly deteriorated when he realised that they weren’t as flexible as he needed. It was fair enough that the nanny wanted set hours – he knew his schedule was all over the place – but he obviously couldn’t offer that, so he wished them well and cut the interview short.

The second interview had started bad and gotten worse. He didn’t know if it was the way the woman smiled at him when he saw the elegant interior of the house or how she spoke of him being a single dad with a wide-eyed pity smile, but he didn’t like the vibes she was sending at all. He didn’t need a nanny that was more interested in him than his daughter. No, just no.

The third interview sounded promising on paper. The candidate had all the right qualifications and experience, but when it came down to processes and how she handled tantrums and tears? No way. He knew Sarah sometimes got upset when he was on long roadtrips – it was only natural – and there was no way he was leaving his daughter with someone who would punish her for showing understandable emotions.

So Matt could only hope that this fourth interview – his last for the day before he gave up and started from scratch – would finally be positive.

Dhara Nicholls.

When he’d first seen the name, he hadn’t known what to expect. Dar-Rah. That was how the agency lady had pronounced it, so he could only hope she was right – the last thing he wanted was to say the nanny’s name wrong out of ignorance. While he would ask for more detail during the interview, he knew the basics about her from the information the agency had sent over. Born and raised in Los Angeles, California, studied BS Computer Science at NYU, went on to study for a Masters in Computer Science at Long Island University – Brooklyn, and was currently in her final year for that. It was the flexibility that he was most intrigued by – and her apparent intelligence. He didn’t care that she didn’t have nannying experience outside of family. If she could take care of his daughter, make sure she was happy and healthy, that’s all that he cared about.

The doorbell rang right on time. Good start.

When he opened the door to greet her, Matt found himself freezing a little. He’d assumed that she wouldn’t be Caucasian based on her first name (as much as he hated assuming anything), but he somehow hadn’t been expecting the sheer beauty of the Indian woman standing in front of him now. At least he assumed she was Indian – and again with those assumptions. He would have to check for sure with some subtle questions because the last thing he wanted to do was act like an ass. But right now, her big beautiful brown eyes, smooth skin, glossy dark curls and sweet hopeful smile had his mind whirling. What was wrong with him?

“Hi! Mr Martin?”

Huh, a typical Valley girl accent. Not what he’d been expecting. Damn assumptions.

“Matt, please. Mr Martin makes me feel like my dad’s standing behind me,” he managed to force out.

The laugh that spilled from her lips sounded like music. He was doomed alright.

“Good to know. Matt it is,” she mused.

“Thanks, Dhara. Please come in,” he said, smiling warmly.

The way she smiled as he said her name let him know he’d said it right. Dar-Rah. Beautiful. No, he needed to be professional about this. He couldn’t let himself be bowled over by a beautiful girl, not when she was (hopefully) going to be employed by him. That wasn’t fair to her. Or to Sarah.

“Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” he offered.

“Water would be great, if you don’t mind,” she nodded.

Matt quickly grabbed her a bottle of water from the fridge, before leading her into the living room, handing her the bottle as they sat down on opposite sofas. She was tall even in flat shoes, maybe 5ft10, and she looked around the room with a smile before her eyes landed on Matt. Captivating.

“Let’s start, shall we?” he said, trying to clear his thoughts.

Right from the get-go, she was impressive. Her upbringing in Los Angeles was very family-orientated, living near her father’s 3 siblings and all their children, her cousins. Her studies alone were remarkable but the way he could tell how passionate she was for her work was the most interesting part of all. He liked that she could be flexible with timings, happy to stay overnight in a guest room during roadtrips, and she was willing to work around her class schedule to even take classes from his house while Sarah was occupied with something she could still keep an eye on. It was more than he could have asked for, if he was being honest. It was all just a bonus that she was warm and genuine on top of it all.

Matt knew what he wanted the conclusion of this interview to be. Dhara was exactly what he’d been looking for, and he knew that Sarah would quickly accept her too. He could only hope that she felt like she’d been a good fit for them too.

“Is there anything else you wanted to know?” she asked.

“I think I have everything I need. I’m not going to lie, this whole process has been a struggle,” Matt admitted, “Trying to figure out who to trust my daughter with is the last thing I thought I’d be doing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dhara said softly, smiling sadly at him, “Would you like me to take any preferences back with me to the agency? So the next person is a better fit for you?”

If he hadn’t been convinced about her before, he absolutely was now.

“You don’t need to take feedback to the agency, Dhara. Because I want to offer you the job,” he said, smiling.

Her lips parted slightly in surprise, before a wide grin spread over her face. Somehow the pure joy in her expression made her even more beautiful, if that was even possible.

“Thank you, Mr Martin. Thank you so much!” Dhara said happily.

“You’re welcome. You’re exactly who I was hoping to find for my daughter. And please, call me Matt, remember?” he mused.

“Of course, whatever you want…Matt,” she said, ducking her head slightly to hide what looked like a shy smile.

Whatever you want.

Now that was just dangerous.

~

Dhara felt like she was dreaming. Three days ago, when Matt had actually offered her the job, she’d felt like her head was spinning, and it wasn’t until she had the official contract sorted and signed with the agency that everything started to sink in. He was willing to be as flexible as she needed, in return for her being as flexible as he needed – it was a small price to pay to stay in the guest room when he was away for her to still be able to attend all her classes. The only thing they’d had to negotiate was her one in-person class every two weeks that she couldn’t do online that was outside of Sarah’s Kindergarten hours, which he’d arranged for one of his teammate’s wives to look after Sarah for a couple of hours until she was finished. And wasn’t that a trip, learning who he was. An NHL player. She was really going to be the nanny for an NHL player’s six year old daughter, and she could still complete her degree. Mindblowing. The only thing that was still sort of in the works were the Kindergarten drop offs themselves – she wouldn’t be put on the accepted pick-up person list until after a first week’s trial, just to make sure Sarah was okay with her. It was fair enough, but still nervewracking. Matt apparently had full faith that everything would be fine though, and had already given her all the details. Drop off was between 8.30am and 9am, and pick up was at 2.30pm – Matt was happy for her to work from his house on the days she didn’t have to go into campus, to save travelling back and forth, which she was absolutely going to take him up on.  It almost felt too good to be true, that everything was working out the way it was, but she wasn’t going to let such a good opportunity to balance work and her degree slip through her fingers.

When Dhara arrived at Matt’s house, having been given a brief introduction to Sarah before Sarah excused herself to the living room, she tried not to let the nerves get to her. Matt looked lighter, like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, and she could only hope it was partly to do with her. He might be nearly 10 years older than her, but he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever laid eyes on, that was for sure. Not that she’d ever tell her new employer these completely inappropriate thoughts of course.

“Now, I have some meetings and final pre-season things to film and so on at the rink today. I’m hoping it’ll all be done in a few hours but it’ll be a good little start for Sarah to get used to me and my mom not being around. I’ve already explained everything to her, and I think she understands the concept of a nanny and that it was time for grandma to get back to her own life in Canada, but if there are any major issues then please call me,” he said seriously.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, especially if you’ve already talked with her, but I absolutely will call you if Sarah needs you. And please don’t rush home? You deserve to spend some time catching up with your friends. Team bonding, and all that, especially if someone suggests lunch. Sarah and I will be fine, I promise,” Dhara said firmly, but with a smile she hoped was encouraging.

Matt let out a shaky breath but nodded, and her heart ached for him. She could tell how much this was affecting him – it was obvious – but the whole reason for her being here was to make his life easier. She could do that, she knew it.

“Sarah, I’m going to the rink!”

She smiled to herself at the sound of fast-paced walking (not running inside the house was clearly a rule) and soon enough Sarah was clinging to her dad’s legs.

“Be nice to Dhara,” Matt said, smiling warmly.

“I’m always nice!” she said, pouting.

He just ruffled her blonde hair, nodding to Dhara with a shaky smile, giving Sarah one last hug before leaving the house. This was it – Dhara was officially responsible for the wellbeing of a child.

“I’m going back to colouring. You can come if you want.”

How generous. Dhara grinned to herself at the young girl’s candour, following her quietly through the house back to the living room where Sarah had a small stack of paper and colouring pencils laid out. Sarah seemed happy enough to thump back down onto the floor and continue with her drawing, silent but focused, and Dhara watched for a little while from the doorway. The most important thing for today – and the rest of this week – was for Sarah to feel comfortable in her presence. She’d never had any problems getting her cousins’ children to like her, so she could only hope the same gentle methods would work with this child.

Sarah didn’t seem to mind Dhara sitting down next to her, barely giving her a glance, allowing her to settle in quietly. So far so good. After a few minutes of Dhara watching her peacefully, Sarah slid a piece of paper over to Dhara, and looked up at her with blue eyes eerily similar to her father’s.

“I’m drawing a picture for daddy, to make him smile when he gets home,” Sarah said simply.

“That’s very kind of you. I’m sure he’ll love it,” Dhara said, melting on the inside at the sweetness.

Sarah side-eyed her briefly before seeming to deem Dhara’s answer acceptable.

“You should draw him one too. He likes my pictures so I’m sure yours will be fine,” she said, sliding over the colouring pencil box.

Kids. You had to love them.

“I will do my very best then,” Dhara said seriously.

Sarah just nodded, going back to her drawing with all the focus a six-year-old could. Dhara just smiled to herself, picking up a pink crayon to attempt to draw some flowers. This was a good start, right?

~

The first month of Dhara’s employment (and final year of her degree) flew by. Somehow, everything was going well so far. There were no dramas, no big issues, and her classes weren’t unmanageable with her new schedule. She could admit that it initially felt weird to be dropping a kid off at Kindergarten that wasn’t hers, especially so early on into knowing Sarah, but that first big smile her charge had given her at pick-up time made everything better. Like, genuinely her heart felt like it had puffed up in size – yeah that’s right, I made her smile – and everything had only gotten better from there. They’d even settled into a decent routine, to the point where Matt even joked that Dhara was becoming Sarah’s favourite person (apparently her bedtime stories were the best?) – and neither of them had even looked at her like she was crazy when she explained her work for her Computer Science Masters like most people tended to.

(“Daddy she’s so smart.” “I know sweetheart.” “I want to be as smart as Dhara when I grow up!” “Well then you’d better show me the new spellings you learned at Kindergarten today.”)

She’d only needed to stay an extra night in the guest room once so far for a roadtrip, which also felt weird, but Matt’s flight had been delayed so there really wasn’t another choice. Thankfully, he’d been there by the time Sarah woke up, so there had been no major tantrums, but the bedtime tears were still an experience she hoped to avoid as much as possible. After looking at Matt’s schedule, she knew exactly how many roadtrips he was going to be on, so hopefully she could come up with some ideas for what to do if that ever happened again.

There were many things she was learning in this new world of being a nanny.

She knew she’d be learning something new tonight too. It was the first game of the pre-season and Matt was in the line-up to play. Traditionally, Sarah always went, and tonight was no exception. Dhara had been hesitant to accept the ticket initially, content with dropping Sarah off with the WAGs she knew and picking her up at the end,  because she was quite literally just the nanny - but Matt insisted. He also insisted that Sarah wanted her there too, and how was she supposed to say no to that?

The plan would be that Dhara and Sarah would take the train over to the arena with plenty of time to spare ahead of warmups (so Sarah could hold her newly-made poster up against the glass), and then Matt would drive them all back to the Martin house – with the late timings, Dhara would need to stay late again. At least this time she had enough clothes in her overnight bag packed.

Nerves washed over Dhara as she entered the UBS Arena, but with Sarah chattering away, holding tight to her hand, it wasn’t too difficult to cover her nerves with a smile. She’d already met Kristy Cizikas – the teammate’s wife who covered looking after Sarah during Dhara’s class once every two weeks – so she would at least know one friendly face. Sarah led the way to the family suite, Dhara making sure her pass was clearly on display so no-one thought she was a fraud, and soon enough they arrived to a blonde-haired sea.

“Dhara! There you are!”

Kristy. Good.

She was thankful for the instantly-warm welcome – she was so out of her comfort zone that it wasn’t funny. Tonight really was her first time being thrown in at the deep end. At least she’d have a break soon to collect her thoughts when everyone in the suite (who wanted to) would head down to the ice for warm-ups. She could do this. She could totally do this. It helped that Kristy introduced her around the group, Grace Lee in particular making her feel at ease with her beaming smile.

The game itself was electric. Dhara mostly kept her eye on Sarah playing with the other kids in the family suite – you know, as it was her job – but by the start of the third period Sarah had fallen asleep on her lap, leaving her free to watch her first ever game of ice hockey with her full attention. Grace helped her out by murmuring along some of the rules and pointing out names of people that Dhara didn’t know yet, and she just felt herself getting fully entranced. She’d never seen anything so graceful and yet so physical. And the speed!

Dhara felt like a bit of an idiot for gasping when Matt full-body checked a player from the opposing team into the boards with a load crash, immediately throwing his gloves off to fight him, her eyes wide as Matt easily took him down to the ice. Fuck, that was hot. Why was that so hot? She could only thank her dark skin for hiding the worst of her blush as Grace and Kristy smiled knowingly at her. Whatever, they didn’t know anything. They could infer all they liked.

That didn’t mean her eyes stopped tracking Matt every second he was on the ice though.

“How was she tonight? Truly?”

Dhara smiled up at Matt, shifting a sleeping Sarah up on her hip as Matt unlocked the front door.

“She was so good. The way her face lit up when you saw her sign in warmups? She didn’t stop talking about it for ages. And she fell asleep on me during the third period so I just let her nap, I hope that’s okay,” Dhara said.

“Of course it is. I’m happy that she feels comfortable enough to do that around you!” he said, smiling.

She was too. She really was.

“I’ll put Sarah to bed, if you want to sort out your bandage?” she offered.

The cuts on his knuckles from his fight had needed a couple of stitches and would need to be cleaned then covered for at least one night, he’d told her that much on the drive home.

“You’re the best,” Matt said, nodding.

Dhara just grinned and headed up the stairs. It didn’t take her long to carefully lay Sarah down in her bed, pulling off her shoes before tucking the duvet over her. But as she slowly crept out of the room and gently shut the door, she could hear Matt cursing in the bathroom, and she frowned.

“Matt?” she whispered, trying not to wake up her young charge.

He cursed again, so she knocked on the bathroom door, and smiled slightly as he cursed in surprise and slowly opened the door.

“The bandage is caught on the dried blood in the stitch and I can’t get it off. Don’t want to rip it,” he murmured when her head poked around the door.

“Let me?” she offered, slowly walking into the room.

Dhara looked up at him through her lashes, holding her hand out, and Matt silently placed his hand in hers. His skin was warm, if a little callused, and it was all she could do to bite her bottom lip as she gently eased the bandage off his knuckles. Matt didn’t take his hand away as she reached for the cotton ball he’d already dipped in the cleansing liquid, allowing her to gently dab at the stitches until they were clean. The two of them stood close together, silent, only their hands touching, and yet somehow this was more intimate than she’d ever been with any man. It was intoxicating to be allowed to take this level of care with him. It was only when she gently pressed down the edges of the fresh bandage that she caught eyes with him once more, the intense blue making her breath catch in her throat, and she forced herself to break out of the moment.

Because it was a moment, and she didn’t know if it thrilled her or terrified her.

“That should be okay now,” she murmured, finally letting go of his hand.

“Thank you, Dhara. I appreciate it,” he said, voice just as soft.

Intoxicating.

Dhara just smiled, nodding her head as she slipped out of the bubble he’d unknowingly boxed her into, and stepped out of the bathroom with a racing heart. She needed to pull herself together. She needed to pull herself together, fast. Otherwise she was going to run the risk of ruining everything.

~

“So give us the details then.”

Matt took a sip of his beer, before frowning at Casey.

“What are you talking about?”

Casey shared a glance with Anders, who just smirked and shook his head incredulously. What?

“Seriously, what details?” Matt asked.

“About Dhara?” Anders prompted.

“Kristy and Grace told us all about meeting her at the game last week, how she was super sweet with Sarah and how much Sarah adored her. What really caught our attention was that they told us about her reaction to your fight. How her eyes lit up, how she gasped, how she was on the edge of her seat,” Casey said innocently, although the sparkle in his eyes was anything but.

“Shut up, she did not,” Matt grumbled.

Their words lit something inside of his though. It was just typical that they waited to interrogate him until they were all six beers deep at Casey’s house, Kristy and Grace having a girls night slash kids sleepover with some of the other WAGs, including Sarah. They were gossip vultures, the lot of them.

Did she really react like that?

He hadn’t been able to get that night out of his mind. The way Dhara came into the bathroom so carefully, like she was trying not to spook a horse. How she held his hand so gently, her skin surprisingly warm and soft. How her cleaning touch was so light that he’d barely felt it, how her ministrations hadn’t hurt at all. How her gaze had been so intense when they caught eyes that he’d felt his breath catch in his throat.

Matt hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that moment they’d shared, and it was driving him crazy knowing there was no way she was having the same thoughts.

But then again, if Casey and Anders were right, if Kristy and Grace were right, maybe she was?

“Bud, you know Grace wouldn’t gossip if she didn’t think there was some truth to it,” Anders mused.

He wasn’t wrong there.

“Dhara is my nanny. Sarah’s nanny. Everything is completely professional,” Matt said firmly.

“Everything is completely professional?” Casey prodded.

“Yes?”

At the hesitance in his tone, Casey and Anders grinned.

“I knew it!” Casey hooted.

“What happened?” Anders asked, eyes lighting up.

“Nothing! Literally nothing has happened. She cleaned the stitches on my knuckles for me because I couldn’t get the bandage off, that’s it,” Matt said sharply.

“Booooooo.”

“Seriously, don’t make it a thing. I don’t want her thinking that I’m some kind of creep,” he groaned.

“Now why would she think that, if you weren’t having creepy thoughts?” Anders teased.

Matt sent them both a flat look, making them hoot with laughter.

“Aww you have it so bad!” Casey cackled.

“You two are the worst. I don’t know why we’re friends,” he muttered.

“You love us,” Anders grinned, toasting him with his beer bottle.

Matt just stuck his tongue out in response, taking a big swig of his own drink. He needed to nip all of this in the bud. There was no way he wanted this to get back to Grace and Kristy, and then back to Dhara. Absolutely not.

“She is pretty,” Casey said, smirking slightly, “Kristy said her smile and her laugh lit up the whole room.”

“And Grace said that Sarah worships her, literally fell asleep on her without a care in the world,” Anders added.

They both knew his weaknesses so well. Matt groaned, tilting his head back, before staring his friends down.

“Enough, okay? Yes, Dhara is beautiful. And smart. And so beyond capable with Sarah that it isn’t funny. But I’m not going to be that guy, okay? I’m her boss and I’m not even going to consider crossing that professional boundary, understood? That’s not cool,” Matt said seriously, “I’m not that guy.”

“We know you’re not,” Casey mused, holding his hands up in surrender.

Anders just nodded his agreement. “We only tease you because we love you. And like I said, I wouldn’t have brought it up if Grace hadn’t seen something herself.”

“Just…don’t make it a thing? I don’t want to make Dhara uncomfortable around me. Sarah adores her and that’s all that matters,” Matt sighed, mostly in defeat.

“If you’re sure, then we won’t,” Anders said.

“But we reserve the right to change our minds later,” Casey grinned.

“Oh my god, get me another drink,” Matt groaned.

Seriously, the worst.

~

Sparkling lights, tinsel, and candy canes everywhere – it only meant one thing. Christmas was coming. With continuous snowfall and the way that she couldn’t escape Christmas songs anywhere, Dhara could hardly deny its upcoming presence, especially with how excited Sarah was getting. As usual, Dhara wasn’t going home for the two weeks break, and the moment Matt found out that her roommate was going home (leaving Dhara alone), he insisted that she came over to spend Christmas day with him, Sarah, and his parents.

(“Matt, no, I can’t intrude.” “No-one should be alone on Christmas.”)

He even tried to offer to pay her for coming over, with that she put her foot down. Christmas was Christmas, after all. In the end, they decided that, with her last class of the semester on the 19th, Dhara would stay over from the 20th to the 22nd, until his parents arrived on the 23rd. They would take over taking care of Sarah with Matt not getting home until late in the evening of the 23rd, and then Dhara would come back over on the 25th, leaving again in the evening of the 26th. It was a lot of back and forth, she could admit, but she’d never had someone in her life so insistent that she spend the holidays with them – and the fact that it was Matt? She couldn’t find it in her heart to say no, especially when he got Sarah and her puppy dog eyes on the case.

Somehow, travelling on the trains on Christmas Day wasn’t as bad as she feared, even with her overnight bag and holdall of gifts. It was only lightly snowing on her short walk to Matt’s house, so she wasn’t fully shivering when she knocked on the door but she was definitely glad that Matt didn’t take too long to open it.

“Hey, you made it! Why didn’t you call me from the station? I would’ve picked you up!” he said quickly beckoning her inside.

“I’m used to the walk now, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” she shrugged, unwinding the scarf from her neck.

“You would never have disturbed me. You’re…never mind, come into the kitchen, my mom’s making hot chocolate,” Matt murmured.

She left her bags in the hallway after taking off her boots, coat, and woolly hat, nervously following Matt into the kitchen. Why was she so nervous to meet his family?

“Guys, Dhara’s here!”

“Dhara! You made it!” Sarah cried out happily.

She knelt down to give her charge a big hug, grateful for the friendly face, before standing up with a nervous smile.

“I’ve heard so much about you – I’m Dawn,” Matt’s mom said, big smile on her face identical to Matt’s.

“And I’m Jim. It’s great to finally meet you,” Matt’s dad said warmly.

Was it really that easy?

“I’ve heard only good things about you too. Thank you for letting me join your family Christmas,” she said, smiling back at them.

“Letting you? I had to practically beg you,” Matt teased.

“Because I see you all year round – your parents don’t get that luxury,” she shot back, still smiling.

“I like you already,” Jim laughed.

“Drinks anyone?” Matt mused.

Once the hot chocolate was passed around, they made their way into the living room, Dhara having grabbed her holdall on the way with the gifts.

“I like your scarf, Dhara,” Sarah piped up, once she was settled on a big cushion on the floor.

Dhara’s fingers brushed over the lightweight blue patterned material draped over her chest and pinned in pleats at her shoulders with a smile. She didn’t usually indulge in her South Asian heritage with her outfits, but her holidays it always felt like a must. She might be wearing a casual plain grey sweater underneath, with light wash jeans, but the chanderi dupatta added a much-needed level of elegance – a casual but respectful outfit. Her mother had loved it at least when she called her this morning, and it was nice to know that Sarah did too.

“Thank you! It’s a dupatta – many South Asian women wear them in many different styles. I like to wear a chanderi dupatta, this lightweight patterned silk, over casual clothes to add a little something extra,” she said, smiling.

“It’s really pretty. Never seen you wearing anything like that,” Matt said softly.

“Thanks,” Dhara said, thankful her dark skin hid her blush, “I tend to only wear dupattas for special occasions. I don’t practice Sikhism as much as I did back in LA, and even then not nearly as much as my mother would’ve liked us all too.”

“Why not?” Sarah asked.

“Sarah!” Matt frowned.

“It’s okay, really,” she said, reassuring, “Well, my upbringing was fairly mixed. My mom’s parents came over from Punjab when they were newly married – my Baba Ji, my grandpa, is an Engineer. My mom and her brothers were born and raised Sikh in Los Angeles. Mom met Dad in university and they fell in love. The only problem was, he was Christian. Or at least, loosely Christian – and very white. While my mom didn’t care about all of that, because she’d fallen head over heels for him and him for her, her parents didn’t approve. She left home and married him anyway, and we haven’t really seen much of my mom’s side of the family ever.”

“But they fell in love!” Sarah cried.

“Culture and religion are complicated things,” Dhara said simply, smiling sadly, “my mom knew what she was giving up, she was very brave. She still had a lot of her friends in the community so she had that connection, and Dad’s family is huge and loud and welcoming, so she never felt alone. She raised me with a knowledge of Sikhism and the welcome to join her in celebrating any holidays I wanted to, but my parents left me to forge my own path, which I did. I have some contact with cousins on my mom’s side thanks to Instagram, so it’s not all a loss. I like to think I get the best of both worlds.”

She couldn’t have asked for more with her upbringing, she knew that. Dhara had been given the world, and been taught kindness for others always, and had an education that others could only dream of, and all the love she could ever want from her parents. She also knew that sometimes her mom struggled but that she had her husband, Dhara’s dad, to rely on for strength. Her mom truly was a hero of hers, and she could only be grateful for everything she’d done for her.

“Thank you for sharing that with us. It can’t always be easy, being so far away from your family,” Matt said softly.

“It isn’t always, no. But I’m following my passion with my degrees, and they understand that,” Dhara nodded, smiling at him, “Besides, we have modern technology, no?”

Matt and his parents just laughed, making her smile a bit wider.

“But Dhara, what about…”

“How about we give Dhara a break from interrogation and pass out gifts, hm?” Dawn mused, interrupting Sarah.

Dhara laughed, shrugging, Sarah just pouting.

“You can ask more questions later okay?” Matt said, glancing up at Dhara to make sure she was okay with that.

Dhara just nodded. The way he checked to confirm with her sent out butterflies she tried desperately to ignore. This was not the time.

As they all passed around presents, Dhara had been pleasantly surprised to learn that she had gifts to open too. She hadn’t expected anything from his parents but they’d still surprised her anyway, with a gorgeous earrings and necklace set that felt fancier than anything she owned in New York. Sarah had gifted her a set of pens and a pretty notebook (which she’d picked out herself, apparently) and she’d looked so pleased with herself that it warmed Dhara’s heart.

For Matt’s mom, she’d gifted her a set of Indian spices, because Matt had told her in passing that his mom liked to cook from all different cuisines – so she’d bought her cumin seeds, coriander powder, garam masala, turmeric, and green cardamom. Dawn had looked so touched when she opened them, giving Dhara a big hug that she hadn’t been expecting. Matt’s dad looked just as pleased by his craft beer tasting tour back home in Ontario, and promised to give her reviews of every single one.

Sarah had squealed in happiness at the book Dhara bought her. A Is for Awesome: 23 Iconic Women Who Changed the World. It was important for Sarah to learn about how powerful she could be as a woman, and from Matt’s smile he seemed to agree with her.

For Matt – she’d bought him a cufflink box.

“I’m always losing cufflinks on roadtrips. You remembered,” Matt murmured.

The way her heart fluttered. Wow.

“And now you have a place to store 4 sets, wherever you go,” Dhara said softly.

“Thank you, this is…I love it,” Matt grinned.

Well now she was a goner.

Her last gift to open was from Matt. Again she hadn’t expected anything from him – he was opening his home to her on Christmas, after all – but when she opened the instant camera, Fujifilm Instax Mini with multiple packs of film cards, her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

“Matt, this is…wow. This is too much!” she gasped.

“You’ve talked about wanting to preserve memories and I thought this would be a fun way to do it,” he shrugged.

A fun way to preserve memories. A whole ass camera. This was just like him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling so widely at him that it hurt.

Matt just smiled helplessly at her in return.

“Can you tell me more about Sikh stuff now please?”

Sarah’s pleading interruption made her laugh, saving her from the explosion of butterflies in her stomach. “If your family don’t mind, I’m happy to tell you more about Sikhism, sure.”

Dhara looked at Matt and his parents, who all nodded and smiled at her. Well, here goes nothing. Time for a basic lesson in Sikhism.

“Sikhism was founded by Guru Nanak around 500 years ago in an area called the Punjab. That’s where my grandparents came from on my mother’s side, if you remember – Punjab is an area which spans part of India and Pakistan now, and they come from the Indian side of it. There are lot of different elements to Sikhism, but some of the main things that Sikhs believe are that your actions are important, and you should lead a good life. You should keep God in your heart and mind at all times, live honestly and work hard, treat everyone equally, be generous to those less fortunate than you, and to serve others,” Dhara listed.

“That sounds really nice,” Sarah said, smiling.

Dhara smiled back at her, heart warmed by the sweet words.

“It is, yes. I don’t attend temple, the Gurdwara, as much as I should, but it’s always really peaceful there. I always try to go for Lohri, the harvest festival in January, and I definitely celebrate Diwali in late October because my family always has, but there are many more holy days that Sikhs commemorate,” Dhara explained.

“Can you tell me about them?” Sarah asked hopefully.

Dhara glanced around the room, seeing Matt and his parents listening raptly, and nodded.

“Of course I can! Firstly…”

~

“Watch yourself, Matthew.”

Matt lifted his head from where he was washing up, seeing his mom standing next to him with a dish towel in hand. His dad, Sarah, and Dhara were all in the living room still, playing Go Fish, but Matt and his mom had moved to the kitchen to tackle at least some of the dishes.

“What?” he said, frowning.

“Don’t think I can’t see the way you look at Dhara,” she said pointedly.

Fuck.

Matt took a shaky breath and opened his mouth to protest, but his mom quickly shook her head.

“She is a lovely young woman with a bright future. Unless you can see marriage in the cards, then don’t mess her around. She deserves the best,” his mom said firmly.

Oh.

Oh.

“Yes, yes she does,” he murmured.

~

With Matt’s parents staying through until the 2nd January, the day before her classes started up again, Dhara had the full rest of the week to herself. The only thing she had planned was getting through work for her Database Management Systems class, but Dawn and Jim had insisted that she came to the game with them on the 28th. That whole evening had been so wholesome; it was clear exactly how much Matt’s parents loved and supported him, and to see his smiling face when they went down to see him after the game? Heartwarming.  Matt had also asked her to come to the New Year’s Eve party that Anders and Grace were throwing – his parents weren’t going to that, but he’d paid for them to have a nice dinner in Manhattan for their own celebration. Dhara almost said no to Matt’s invitation (because who was she to go to a private event like that?), but when he said that Grace had invited her specifically, she couldn’t resist. An invite from Grace Lee to her own party was not something that someone turned down. She knew she’d made the right decision when Grace texted her to say how excited she was that Dhara was coming, which made her feel like a little bit less of an intruder.

What was it with these people and forgetting she was literally just the nanny?

“You look nice,” Matt murmured.

“No daddy, Dhara looks beautiful,” Sarah said firmly.

Dhara laughed, ducking her head shyly just in time to miss the way Matt blushed. Her black sparkly long-sleeved bodycon dress was something that she kept on hand as the only semi-formal thing she had in her closet – so it was really her only option for the Lee’s New Year’s Eve party tonight.

“You’re right, my apologies Sarah,” Matt mused, grinning, “You do look beautiful, Dhara.”

Even if it was prompted by his daughter, it was still spine-tingling to hear Matt say those words.

“You’re too kind, both of you,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Matt just winked before kneeling down to help Sarah put her shoes on, leaving Dhara more flustered than she’d ever been in her life. Thankfully they didn’t have to wait long for the car service that Matt had insisted on, and soon enough their party of three arrived.

“Ah, welcome Martins and Nicholls!”

Dhara giggled at Anders’ booming voice, Matt rolling his eyes fondly as they entered the house.

“Thanks for having us,” Matt mused, handing over a bottle of very nice bourbon to his Captain.

Anders just grinned. “You’re always welcome, bud. Grace is in the kitchen making cocktails for the girls – we’re not invited to that, Matt, but you should definitely head in there so you don’t miss any good gossip, Dhara.”

“Oh, but Sarah…”

“Sarah can stick with me while we go and say hi to all her uncles before they get too drunk, hm?” Matt suggested.

“Drunk Uncle Casey is funny,” Sarah giggled.

“That settles it then!” Anders said cheerfully.

He pointed Dhara in the direction the kitchen and whisked Matt and Sarah away, leaving Dhara reeling. This wasn’t what she had expected at all – and now she was being shuffled over to the WAGs like she had any right to be there?

“Dhara! There you are! Grace is just finishing a fresh batch of mojitos – join us!”

She let out a shaky breath at Kristy’s happy exclamation, but followed her with a smile. She could totally do this. She could go with the flow, especially with Matt’s insistence, and she could just get back to watching Sarah after this drink, right? If Matt was okay with it?

In truth, nothing happened the way she thought it would over the night. While she did return back to watching over Sarah, all of the other WAGs with kids insisted they she took breaks to enjoy herself because they could all chip in to watch the kids. It did make her feel weird because hello, it was literally her job to nanny, but Matt’s happy face every time she took a break to socialise was too strong to resist. The main thing that struck her though was how much she stuck out like a sore thumb. Not just in terms of appearance – she figured she was going to be one of the only people of colour there – but just in terms of importance? Not even all the team was here – the youngest ones were off clubbing apparently, which made Dhara all the more aware of how intimate this gathering was. She didn’t belong here, not in this world. What was her life coming to?

She didn’t know if Matt’s presence helped either. All through the night he made she sure had enough to drink (she stuck to water or soda after that first lethal mojito from Grace) and enough to eat. He included her in every conversation, introduced her to people she hadn’t met yet, and checked in on her when she was watching Sarah. Every time she could see a couple of his teammates and/or the WAGs smirking slightly – but not in a mean way. And certainly not mocking her. It was confusing to say the least, like the lines were blurring without giving her any way to read the meaning of the situation, and it was all she could do to try to let it go. Matt was just being a gentleman, that was all.

When it came to a couple of minutes until the ball drop though, Dhara found herself squished onto a sofa in front of the TV that Anders was setting up, with Sarah fast asleep on her lap and Matt sitting down at her side.

“Champagne?” Matt said, holding out a second glass.

“I suppose one glass couldn’t hurt to bring in the new year,” Dhara mused.

She tried to ignore the way her stomach fizzled as their fingers brushed. Eventually, with just 30 seconds to spare, the living room was packed with party guests, Dhara essentially pressed fully up into Matt’s side. All she could do was remember to breathe, keeping her focus anchored on Sarah to distract herself from the warmth of his thigh against hers. It was intoxicating to say the least, and she was grateful at least for the noise of the room drowning out her thoughts.

“3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

As fireworks exploded across the screen and out the windows, and couples embraced all around the room, Dhara’s breath caught in the throat as she looked up at Matt to see him already looking down at her.

“Happy New Year, Dhara,” he murmured.

“Happy New Year,” she said softly back.

The intensity in his eyes made fire burn through her skin, barely softened by the champagne she poured down her throat. The way he looked at her…it almost felt real.

~

Dhara’s birthday was always a strange time of year for her. She never did anything massive to celebrate it, just casual dinner and drinks with friends and a phone call with her parents, but this year it fell at the end of January on a Saturday, at the end of Matt’s bye week. He had no other plans that spending time with Sarah anyway, so he gave her the week off to relax.

Relax, hah.

She had her thesis proposal to finish, with the final submission of the full finished thing due at the beginning of May, but she’d managed to sort out the data she wanted to use in the first half of January – so she was able to use her week off from nannying to finish the proposal. She holed herself up in her bedroom, surrounded by drinks and snacks, barely taking any breaks other than to reassure her roommate that she was still alive, until she submitted it to her supervising professor.

It was worth it, to feel like she’d accomplished something she was proud of.

Dhara emerged from her ‘coding cave’ the day before her birthday, her roommate shoving her straight into the shower while she ordered them both Thai food to celebrate. It felt good to have a little time to actually relax before her birthday, because before dinner and drinks with her friends, Matt had planned a surprise lunch for her.

She should have expected the restaurant he chose to be a fancy one. She’d never eaten anywhere so nice, not even when her parents came up for her undergraduate degree graduation.

“I have one more surprise for you,” Matt announced, just as he paid the bill, “if you have time to come back to the house with us.”

Sarah was basically wriggling in her seat, quietly begging please please please, and how could Dhara say no to that? All through the drive back to Matt’s house, Sarah was whispering to him and giggling away, making Dhara smile to herself. Seeing the young girl so excited made her excited – and after the incredible surprise Christmas gift he’d gotten her? She could only hope it wasn’t something crazy.

“Okay Sarah, you go ahead and open the door while I make sure Dhara isn’t peeking,” Matt said with a smile.

“What,” she said flatly.

Matt just smiled innocently, stepping behind her, and it was all Dhara could to do gasp as he gently placed his hands over her eyes from behind. Fuck.

“Door’s open daddy!”

“Okay sweetheart, why don’t you take Dhara’s hands and slowly guide her indoors,” Matt instructed, “if you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah sure, go for it,” Dhara laughed.

As if her today could get any stranger than this. So with Sarah’s small hands in hers and Matt’s large hands over her eyes (his cologne smelled so good this close, it was unreal), Dhara was slowly guided into the Martin house, taking heed of Sarah’s instructions not to bash into things, until she was standing in what she was sure was the rarely-used dining room. Matt and Sarah always preferred to eat at the kitchen island, but she knew where this room was. Why was she here?

“Ready?” Matt asked.

“Ready. I think,” Dhara mused.

Sarah let go of her hands at the same time as Matt removed his, and as soon as she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. What the hell. In front of her, on the dining room table, were two computer screens, high definition and huge, with a docking station and all the appropriate wires to connect them to a laptop. To her laptop? What the hell.

“Matt…” she breathed.

Sarah just giggled at her reaction before skipping out of the room, leaving them alone. Leaving Dhara with her mind whirling.

“I know you were talking about how it’s easier to see your code side by side, and rather than doing the split screen thing you have been doing on just your laptop, I thought this would be more helpful,” he explained.

He remembered that from her rambling? He was listening?

“I can’t believe you bought me two computer screens. And a docking station. This is too much, Matt, really. I can’t accept them,” she murmured.

This was so personal – no-one had ever paid attention to her like this, and it was coming from him?

“Hey, no, this is important for you. For your work. I want to make sure that you have everything that you need to finish your degree in the best way possible – you’ve done so much for us and I just wanted to do this little thing for you. Besides, you only turn 25 once, right?”

“This isn’t little, Matt. And I’m just a nanny, I’ve barely done anything,” Dhara protested.

“If that’s all that you think you are to Sarah, and to me, then I’m clearly not doing enough to show you differently,” he said firmly.

The tone of his voice made her shiver in all the right ways.

“Matt, I…”

She trailed off at the intense look he was giving her.

“Happy birthday, Dhara,” Matt murmured, smiling softly.

It was all she could do to hug him tightly, sinking slightly into his chest as his arms immediately wrapped around her too. His shirt was soft against her cheek, that intoxicating cologne filling her senses, so much so that as she moved to break the hug, she impulsively kissed his cheek. Fuck. Dhara froze for a moment, stunned at her own audacity, but as she leaned back, Matt looked just as stunned – other than the pleased smile on his lips.

“Sarah! Come and say goodbye to Dhara so she can go out with her friends!” he called out, dropping his arms to let her go.

Dhara smiled at the sound of pattering footsteps, even more so as Sarah hugged her legs tightly.

“Dhara! You’re still my friend too, right?”

Be still her beating heart.

“Of course I am. I’ll be back here on Monday, ready for Kindergarten as usual,” she promised.

“Good. Happy birthday Dhara!” Sarah said happily.

Matt’s eyes never left her once.

~

With only a few weeks left until Spring Break, Dhara didn’t know where her final year of her degree was going. She knew she was going to use that Spring Break time to finish as much of her thesis as possible – and she knew she was going to be spending the whole week at Matt’s. Her new computer screens had stayed at his house as there was way more room for her to work there, and the couple of occasions she’d used them there for her classwork and he’d been home, he always smiled a pleased little smile like he was proud of himself for providing for her. It was…strange.

Everything was strange.

Since that kiss on the cheek, the dynamic between them had grown even more tense. Every stolen glance, brushed fingers, sweet smile, all felt like she was getting away with something forbidden. If anyone knew the illicit way she thought of Matt, she knew she’d burst into flames. And it wasn’t like she could be sure about how he felt about her either. Sure, he looked – but she was a beautiful Indian woman, and many men looked. It just felt different when she felt Matt’s eyes on her body, that was all.

She knew it was futile though. She was his nanny, nothing else. And she didn’t dare mess anything up with her employment now that she was only a couple of months away from turning in her thesis and finishing her Masters in Computer Science. She knew that she had to seriously start applying for jobs for starting in June, knew she didn’t want her years of hard work to go to waste – but it was so hard to decide exactly what she wanted when her head was spinning.

In a dream world, she’d have the career she’d always fantasised about, with Matt and Sarah by her side. But this was reality – girls like her didn’t get the career and the guy. She had to be realistic with herself, otherwise she was going to drown. She knew she had to stop indulging her daydreams and wake up – it wasn’t worth the inevitable heartache, as much as those dreams were nice to fall asleep to.

Still, when Spring Break arrived and Matt refused to let her nanny for him, rather than holing herself up in the bedroom of her tiny apartment, she holed herself up in Matt’s dining room, only emerging when Matt dragged her out to get some sleep or Sarah begged her to eat dinner with them. It was a weird but welcome change, to have people care about her wellbeing like that (her current roommate had her own weird work hours), so when she finally came out of her week of thesis writing and showered, she felt more human than she usually did after a data spree like that. It was refreshing to say the least.

“I can’t believe you spent your final ever Spring Break sitting at my dining room table,” Matt teased, handing her a plate of sliced apples.

Dhara stuck her tongue out at Matt as she happily took the plate, making him laugh.

“I needed to get my thesis finished as soon as possible so I can work on editing it and proving the data works. And I managed to get it nearly finished – now it’s just concluding it and all the weeks of editing to get done. Otherwise, all the hard work of the past three years will come to nothing, and I won’t be able to get a good job like I deserve,”

“Right, yes, of course. A job using computer science,” Matt nodded.

The way he said it though, and the way he looked like a kicked puppy, made her heart ache. “Matt, you knew I would only be able to work for you for a year. We talked about this, right from the start.”

“I know,” he said quickly, shaking his head with a smile, “It’s just going to be strange not having you around. You feel like part of the family already, and you know that Sarah loves you.”

Fuck.

“Matt, you’re killing me,” she murmured.

“Sorry,” he quickly said.

“No you’re not,” she said dryly.

“I am a little bit.”

Dhara huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “I love systems analysis and the increase in importance of connectivity to keep up with modern systems within growing infrastructure, and I would love to work in something like that because it’s where my passion is. I just…I hope I can find something that takes a chance on a nobody like me.”

“You are the furthest thing from a nobody, Dhara. You’re incredible and talented and a beautiful person inside and out, and you deserve the best. Whatever you need, whatever I can help with, I will, okay? References, making calls, whatever. You name it and I’m there.”

Her lips parted in surprise at his supportive words, eyes stinging with tears, but she found herself smiling. He was such a sweetheart.

“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Dhara said, voice thick with emotion as she stepped forward to hug him.

She felt herself tremble slightly at the warmth of Matt’s hands on her back, even more so at the way he buried his face in her long thick curls, and tried to savour the feeling of his arms around her while she still could. How had their time together come to an end so quickly? How was this fair?

“Yeah, well, you deserve everything and more,” Matt said gruffly as he stepped back.

If only she could read his mind right now, to see what thoughts were running behind the complicated expression on his face, then she would do it in an instant.

“Thank you, Matt,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome. Make sure you start applying soon, okay?”

~

Network Operations Engineer – Madison Square Garden Entertainment – full time.

Submission – completed.

~

March.

April.

May.

His fleeting time left with Dhara was slipping through his fingers. The harder he tried to hold on, the faster the days flew by, until she submitted her thesis and the end was in sight. He couldn’t blame her for being excited – fuck knows he wouldn’t be sane after all the years of education she’d gone through – but he couldn’t stop the anxiety that built in his chest when he thought of how, soon, she wouldn’t be laughing and smiling and typing away at her computer in his house.

The Islanders had barely lost the first round of the playoffs, kicking and scraping to the last minute, and now with the whole summer stretched out in front of him, the thought of spending it without her was excruciating. But Matt knew he had no claim on Dhara, had no right to feel this way, no matter how she looked at him or smiled sweetly at him or that one time she’d kissed his cheek. She was everything he hadn’t known he’d wanted and needed, and now she was soon to be gone from his life forever.

He, Matt Martin, was completely gone for Dhara Nicholls, and he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do about it.

“Dhara, come on, you’re not watching!”

Matt rolled his eyes fondly at Sarah’s petulant whining. “Sarah Dawn Martin, that’s not how we speak to our friends.”

He could see Dhara biting her lip to hide a smile as Sarah huffed dramatically.

“Dhara, please will you watch this with me? You said you would!”

“Of course, why don’t I just get us some more water each and we can settle in, hm?”

“Deal!”

Matt watched Dhara walk over to where he was putting together lunch in the kitchen, unable to stop himself smiling at her the moment she smiled at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She giggled, shaking her head at herself as she pulled a couple of bottles of water out the fridge.

“How���s it going in there with the Drill Sergeant?” he mused.

“Oh it’s tough, but I think I’ll make it out alive,” she grinned.

Why was everything so easy between them? Nothing had ever been this easy before.

“Look, I, uh…I was hoping to ask you something?”

Dhara raised an eyebrow with a bemused smile but nodded, leaning against the counter next to him. “Go for it.”

“So you know it’s my birthday on Saturday?” he started.

Dhara just nodded, smiling.

“Okay cool, so I know you have things to finalise this week, with administration at your university, but Casey and the guys and girls have organised a night out and I was hoping you’d come? So yeah, come out with us, please,” he said, cursing himself for rambling.

“Oh, thank you – I just…what about Sarah?” she asked.

So sweet.

“She’s having a sleepover with a friend from Kindergarten, I already sorted that,” Matt said simply, smiling.

“Well in that case, I’d love to. If you’re sure?” Dhara said, uncertainly.

“Of course I’m sure. I want you out celebrating with me,” he said firmly.

While he couldn’t tell if she was blushing or not, the flash of surprise and something else in her eyes satisfied something inside of him that felt distinctly feral. He really was losing his control around her, wasn’t he?

“Then I’ll be there,” she said sweetly, “You only turn 35 once after all.”

Matt just grinned.

Saturday night rolled around quicker than he’d expected. The WAGs had taken Dhara out with them to get ready – the full works apparently, hair, make-up, and manicures, all of which he paid for Dhara because it was last minute – and when the ladies finally arrived to the restaurant he’d booked out for dinner? Well, it felt like he’d been punched in the face. It wasn’t that her dark curls were glossy and teased to volumed perfection. It wasn’t that her make-up was flawless, full glam like she never did herself. No, it was the emerald green mid-thigh strappy silk dress she’d clearly borrowed from one of the other ladies. The dress was so dainty and unlike anything he’d ever seen her wear, close enough to a negligee that it sent his mind reeling. He knew she had a great figure already, and that her legs were long and toned, but seeing them like this? It was mindblowing. And, obviously, it had taken everything in his power not to drool or let his jaw drop.

Naturally he missed Casey and Anders smirking at their wives and receiving triumphant grins in response from Grace and Kristy. Dhara’s sweet greeting and warm hug made everyone else in the room disappear.

Still, after dinner and going to a couple of bars, they ended up in a night club nearing midnight, Anders having booked a couple of tables upstairs in the VIP area. The whole group had a couple of shots together, toasting Matt’s 35th birthday, before the WAGs all dragged Dhara off to dance with them. From their table he could just about see her in the middle of the dancefloor, looking like she was having the time of her life, body swaying and moving in a way that had his full attention. Captivating.

He watched her on and off for the next half hour, switching between talking to the guys, sipping on his whisky and coke. But it wasn’t until Casey thumped down next down next to him and clapped him on the shoulder with a huff that he realised anyone had noticed.

“Come on man, just go down to the dancefloor and put us all out of our misery,” Casey groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Matt frowned.

“You’re pining after Dhara and it’s driving us crazy,” he retorted.

“We’ve talked about this. She’s my nanny,” Matt said sharply.

“Yeah okay, like that even matters. I’ve seen the way you look at her and Kristy’s seen the way she looks at you, and it’s not like she’s going to be your nanny for much longer, right?” Casey smirked.

“Oh fuck you.”

“Fuck her.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Matt all but growled.

Casey just grinned, clearly getting the answer he wanted, goading Matt just like he intended. Damn it, he really did know him too well.

“Love you too bud. Stop being a coward,” Casey just snickered, patting Matt on the shoulder, a clear indication to just get out of there.

And if the desire to dance with Dhara hadn’t won out, he knew he’d be scowling at his friend. Instead, he found himself drifting down the stairs from the VIP area to where he lasted spotted Dhara in the crowd, and soon enough he found her. She looked like a goddess: swaying from side to side, multi-coloured lights brushing across her brown skin like a Picasso painting, and he felt himself mesmerised. She turned her head slightly at the prompting of Grace, wide smile stretching across her lips when she spotted him.

“Mind if I join you?” Matt said, raising his voice.

“Of course not birthday boy!” Dhara said happily.

Matt stepped closer to her, barely registering the rest of the ladies grinning at each other and slipping away through the crowd to leave them alone. His attention was completely captured – Dhara’s hips swaying so close to him were a massive distraction – and it wasn’t until a familiar song started playing that he finally looked up at her face.

“I love this song!” she said happily.

Dhara turned her back to him, confusing him slightly, until she looked back over her shoulder expectantly. He knew they’d both had a fair amount of alcohol to drink at this point, but her eyes were clear enough – dance with me. He could barely control himself as he stepped up behind her fully, hands on her hips, pulling her gently back against him, the soft moan that sounded from her lips making him feel wild. Fuck, he could feel himself stirring where his crotch was pressed just above her ass, even more so as she continued to sway her hips.

“Come, lay me down, 'Cause you know this, 'Cause you know this sound

In the middle of the night, In the middle of the night, Just call my name, I'm yours to tame...”

“Matt,” Dhara murmured, looking up at him.

He followed his base instincts for once, staying silent as he used the grip he had on her hips to spin her around to face him, taking pleasure in the look of surprise on her face and the flash of lust in her eyes, swaying their bodies together again.

“…I'm wide awake, I crave your taste all night long, 'Til morning comes, I'm getting what is mine, You gon' get yours, oh no, ooh, In the middle of the night.”

“Matt please.”

It was all he could do to guide her quickly through the crowd to the edge of the dancefloor, to an empty spot against the wall, leaving them mostly in the shadow, the bright flashes of light illuminating them just about enough to see each other’s faces.

“Tell me to stop,” Matt murmured into her ear, hands threading into her thick curls.

“Kiss me,” she replied, lifting her head in challenge.

He didn’t hesitate to press his lips to hers, kissing her just as she’d demanded, his heart immediately soaring. Dhara moaned into his mouth, moaned again when he pushed her firmly up against the wall, kissing him back just as eagerly as her hands clutched at his shirt. It was like she melted against his body as he slid his tongue past her lips, fire zipping through his blood, his head swirling. Matt kissed Dhara over and over again, one hand leaving her hair to clutch at her hip, the silk of her dress driving him mad and doing nothing to mask the heat of her skin, and while the music washed over them, he wanted nothing more than to get her away from this crowded dancefloor and take her home.

Fuck, it was intoxicating how well she fit into his arms, how her body was moulded to his, how their tongues danced together as intimately as their bodies had done. In all the times he’d thought about kissing her, about holding her, nothing could compare to the real thing. Nothing could compare to this.

But he needed to know that it wasn’t just him, that she wasn’t just kissing him because she was drunk. He didn’t think he would survive that. The confused noise she made when he broke the kiss just about broke his heart though.

“Dhara, baby, I gotta know…”

He groaned, kissing down her neck, feeling like he was shaking apart at her soft moans.

“What, Matt?” she gasped as he nipped at her skin.

“You’re not…you’re not too drunk right now, right? You want this?”

“Matt, I’ve been drinking water throughout the night between drinks. I want this. I want you. I just didn’t know if you wanted me,” she said, shrugging with a sheepish smile.

She didn’t know if he wanted her?

He rested his forehead against hers, pressing her fully into the wall again so she could feel where he was half hard in his jeans. Dhara giggled, pulling him down into another kiss with her grip on his shirt, and Matt was all too happy to oblige her, knowing he’d never get enough of her now that he’d tasted her.

“It’s not just sex, baby, I swear. I want all of you,” Matt murmured, breaking their kiss again to suck on the thin skin behind her ear.

“You promise?” she asked softly into his ear, almost shyly.

“I promise,” he nodded, as serious as he could manage in this moment.

“Then take me home.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Yeah, take me home Matt,” she grinned back.

~

Dhara woke with a soft groan, eyes feeling gritty and mouth as dry as an old sock. She blearily lifted her head, grabbing the glass of water on the side table and chugging it, body not recognising the weight of an arm over her waist until her head was a bit clearer.

An arm over her waist.

Over her bare waist.

Matt’s arm.

She let out a shaky breath as all the memories of the night before flooded into her head. Dancing intimately with Matt in the nightclub where anyone could see them. Making out on the side of the dancefloor. The two of them leaving the club without telling anyone, barely keeping their hands off each other in the uber back to his. Then a rush of lips and hands and teeth and bare skin, and waves of pleasure over and over again, crying out his name without a care in the world.

It was everything she’d ever dreamed over, and now, waking up in his bed with his bare body pressed to hers, it was her nightmare all the same.

She’d never acted like this before in her life. Never slept with a man she wasn’t dating. Absolutely never slept with her boss. What kind of trashy behaviour was that? How could he ever think she was worth his time if this is the way she acted the first time he showed interest? Fuck.

But she remembered his words too. How he checked that she wasn’t too drunk, that she wanted this. How he swore it wasn’t just sex, that he wanted her. How insistent he was on promising that it wasn’t just talk to get her into bed. And in between each of the many orgasms he brought her to, he checked in with her each time, making sure she was okay, just because that’s who he was.

He was Matt Martin, gentleman under a rough handsome exterior, and he wanted her.

None of that changed her insecurities though, how all of this was so out of character for her. Not to mention, she knew damn well that everyone knew what they did last night, why they left the club early, and wasn’t that mortifying? No, she needed some air, she needed to think. And to maybe put on some clothes she’d left in the spare room because there was no way she could wear Kristy’s tiny silk dress home in broad daylight.

With a shaky breath, Dhara gently picked up Matt’s arm, moving it off of her body, before slowly sitting upright. If she could just stand up without waking him it would be…

“Good morning. Going somewhere?”

Matt’s husky voice made her freeze, a wave of guilt washing over her, before she turned to face him, sheets clutched to her bare chest.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing,” she murmured, more honest than she cared to be.

And if that wasn’t a metaphor for her life since she met him, what was?

He just frowned, sitting upright, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from raking over his chest, his biceps, his shoulders. Damn. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Where should I start?” Dhara said, feeling a little hysterical.

“I thought we were on the same page last night,” Matt said hesitantly, “I thought we both wanted this.”

“We did,” she said quickly, “I did. But…you know this doesn’t make any sense right?”

“Why not? You like me, I like you. You want me, I want you. It’s simple,” he frowned.

If only.

“It’s not simple at all, Matt. Not for me. It’s one thing for you to have the hots for your young pretty nanny, but to actually hook up with her? And to say you want something more? People are going to think I’m a gold digger! That I trapped you! That I manipulated my way into your life!”

“Dhara, all of that is bullshit. I don’t care what people think. Anyone who dares to call you a gold digger is an asshole who doesn’t know us. Everyone who knows us knows it isn’t like that at all. You’ve already got a job lined up waiting for you with Madison Square Garden Entertainment Group and you only just handed in your thesis – like, you’re going to be making your own money so it’s not like you only like me for that, right?”

“Well, no, but…”

“And you didn’t even know who I was when you first interviewed with me, so it’s not like you planned this, right?”

“Of course I didn’t, but…”

“If you don’t want anything more than this one night with me then obviously I would accept that. It would suck and the last few weeks of you working for me would be really awkward, but damn Dhara, I want a future with you,” Matt finished, taking one of her hands in his, the other still clutching at the bed sheet.

He really wants a future with her?

“You do?” she asked softly, almost as if she didn’t believe it.

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, smiling warmly, “I mean, I’m not sure what you see in me – I’m a 35 year old hockey player who’s nearing the end of his career, already divorced once with a kid who doesn’t have an off switch or a volume control, and I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life…but I just know that I want you in my life, however I can have you.”

“You’re the kindest, sweetest, most handsome man I’ve ever met, with a daughter who loves you so much, and you see me for more than the Indian girl stuck behind a computer screen. I…I never expected this, any of this Matt, but I want to try?” she said, biting her bottom lip.

The way his face lit up with sweet genuine smile made her heart soar.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’m going to do my best to make you so happy too, Dhara, I swear,” he grinned.

Dhara huffed out a laugh, laughing properly as he tugged the sheet out of her hand and guided her to lie down again in the messy bed, sliding his thick arm over her waist to tug their bare bodies together, lying face to face in the most intimate yet soft way she’d ever lain with another man.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter that her career was just about to kick off while his was in its hockey-twilight. And it didn’t matter than he was 10 years older than her, a whole wealth of life experience that she barely had. And it didn’t matter what people would whisper about them, or what judgemental looks she was get, or that her mother had never met him, or even that none of this would ever have happened in her wildest dreams.

All that mattered was that he wanted her, in his bed, in his family, in his life.

“Can I kiss you, baby?”

“Yes.”

~

Tagging a few people: @jostyriggslover96 @misshoneyimhome @senditcolton @fallinallincurls @2manytabsopen

[nizhspo]

the killing moon:

chapter one: heatstroke

genre: haikyuu fic, 80s au

pairing: atsumu miya x fem!reader

links: m.list, next

it wasn’t the kind of california they put on postcards.

not malibu or beverly hills. no glittering oceans. no canyons with joggers and sunglasses and convertibles. this was the kind of california that sat in the middle of nowhere.

inland, cracked, bleached, and dry. a place where the wind blew hot instead of cool, where citrus groves turned into strip malls and every parking lot shimmered with heat before noon.

your town sat between los angeles and the mojave. two hours in either direction, but never close enough to matter.

there was no beach, no nightlife, no promise. just sun-faded vinyl awnings, cinder block liquor stores, drive-thru burger joints with flickering neon, and a community pool that smelled like chlorine, hot dogs, and hawaiian tropic oil by the first week of may.

they said it was the hottest may on record.

it felt like it, too. the mornings were already thick with sweat by the time you left for school, and the afternoons were worse. teachers stopped pretending to care about dress code. girls rolled the waistbands of their shorts twice. boys wore band tees with the sleeves cut off. someone brought a box fan to mr. palmer’s second-period history class and nobody said a word. you watched your classmates slowly melt into summer.

and you?

you were waiting.

not for summer break. not for freedom.

you were waiting for him.

hajime iwaizumi, your boyfriend of almost two years, was already two hours north, up in santa barbara, finishing his first year of college. he was a kinesiology major, working part-time at a rec center, and still calling you every night like clockwork from the landline in his dorm. he’d promised to drive down every other weekend once school let out. said he missed your bed, your shampoo, the stupid movies you always made him watch: sixteen candles, fright night, that taped-off-tv version of flashdance with the static lines halfway through.

said you were the only thing keeping him sane.

and when you told him you’d be spending most afternoons at the pool with your friends, he didn’t care.

“i trust you,” he said.

and you believed him.

or at least, you used to.

…

the pool opened the first saturday in may, and by monday, it was already the place to be after school.

the water was lukewarm, half the lounge chairs were cracked, and the locker room still smelled like wet flip-flops and mildew. but it was open, it was cheap, and they sold frozen lemonades in paper cups at the snack bar.

every girl came in cut-off levi’s and string bikinis tied tight beneath faded concert tees.

boys cannonballed on dares and wrestled in the deep end like they didn’t care who was watching. someone always brought a boom box. the speaker blew out once a week. nobody minded.

the place hadn’t changed in years. same peeling murals of cartoon dolphins on the concrete walls, same whistle-happy staff with zinc-covered noses, same group of older kids trying to sneak joints under the bleachers or make out behind the snack shack like nobody could see them.

but there was one thing. one person—who was new.

and that was him.

he worked the high chair by the deep end. bleach-blond hair with dark roots, like he’d spent too much time in the sun and not enough giving a damn. his skin was golden—real golden, like he’d been carved out of sand and sunburn.

red lifeguard trunks sat low on his hips and high on his thighs, like they’d been tailored to flirt. he wore aviators even when the sun dipped behind clouds. had a whistle slung loose around his neck, a clipboard he never wrote on, and the kind of mouth you’d only call a smirk.

you didn’t know his name at first. you didn’t need to.

because he already knew yours.

but it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him.

there’d been that one moment a few weeks ago. gym class. mid-april. you and mai had cut third period and ducked out to the old track behind the boys’ building.

the sky had been thick with clouds, and the breeze that day felt nice and cool. you were sitting on the bleachers, sipping a warm soda, trying to count how many people had seen pretty in pink the weekend before, when you spotted him leaning against the chain-link fence.

alone. hands in his pockets. mouth around a toothpick.

he looked straight at you, like he’d felt you notice him. his eyes dragged down, slow, unapologetic, then flicked back up to your face like a dare. you’d felt it all the way down to your knees.

but you didn’t say anything.

he didn’t either. just smirked.

and now here he was again, like summer had summoned him just for you.

the first time he spoke to you, you’d been climbing out of the pool. it was a thursday. heat shimmered off the concrete in waves, and your skin was still dripping when you reached the ladder. water slid down your thighs, beaded in the dip between your collarbones. you tugged your t-shirt back down over your bikini top, wiped your nose, and started toward your towel.

you weren’t even thinking about him.

until you heard it— his voice, low and lazy.

“hey, y/n.”

you stopped. turned.

he was perched in the high chair like he’d been born in it, legs spread, aviators pushed halfway down his nose. the sun cut across his shoulders in gold lines. his whistle hung between his knees, swaying slightly as he leaned forward.

and his eyes—god, his eyes, dragged down the full length of you, slow and deliberate, like he was undressing you with every blink.

you stared at him. wide-eyed. flushed. off-balance.

he tilted his head. grinned.

“tell hajime i said thanks for sharing.”

your jaw dropped.

his mouth curled. then he winked.

like he’d won something. like he already knew he was gonna win more.

you didn’t say a word. just stood there, half-wet, half-dizzy, heart thudding in your chest like it was trying to outrun something you hadn’t even admitted to feeling yet.

and he just kept watching you.

…

the pool always looked best around five o’clock.

not because it was cleaner—it wasn’t.

not because the kids were gone—they weren’t.

it was because the sun dipped just low enough to hit the water like glass. everything turned gold. every wet shoulder shimmered. every splash glittered like soda fizz. the pool deck glowed, hot and scuffed and full of teenage noise, and if you timed it right; if you showed up after school but before the real crowd rolled in, you could snag the best lounge chairs along the far wall, right beneath the sun-faded “no running” sign and the busted speaker that only played the left channel of the radio.

today, you had a spot.

towel tossed across your chair, walkman in your bag. your oversized coca-cola tee clung damp to your back, knotted at your waist to show the high-cut curve of your bathing suit bottoms.

your cherry lip balm had melted in your front pocket. mai and erika were splashing around in the shallow end, flirting with a pair of older boys in neon jam shorts and fake ray-bans. you were only half-watching, mostly waiting for your name to be called.

“y/n,” came a shout from across the pool, half-muffled by the clatter of a snack bar window slamming open. “grilled cheese and cherry slush!”

you turned. raised a hand. started toward the counter, bare feet on warm concrete, the bottoms still a little damp from your last dip in the water. the popsicle you’d just finished was still clutched in one hand, sticky juice drying between your fingers.

and then—

phwEEEEEEEEEEEEEET.

the whistle cut through everything.

kids turned. towels rustled. someone cannonballed with perfect comic timing into the shallow end.

your head snapped up.

he was standing in the high chair by the deep end, framed by sunlight and attitude. red lifeguard trunks riding high, tanned thighs flexed. white tank clinging to his chest, whistle swinging around his neck, sunglasses perched just so. he looked like he’d been lifted straight off the cover of a teen beat poster and dropped into your summer by mistake.

his voice carried, low and flat. “you.”

your brows lifted. you pointed at yourself. “me?”

he nodded once. didn’t smile. didn’t move. just pointed toward the edge of the pool deck a few feet away. “walk.”

you stared.

the snack bar was five steps away.

maybe you had jogged a little— okay, fine, maybe kind of sprinted when they called your name, but it was barely anything. you’d taken longer steps in jazz class.

a few people snickered. you heard mai go “ooooh” from the shallow end like she was watching a movie.

your face flushed with heat, and when you turned around from the snack bar, clutching your slushie and your paper-wrapped grilled cheese in one hand, you walked.

back to the chair. past him. water still drying in the crease of your elbow. the strap of your suit tugged slightly off-center from the way you’d rushed.

he was still watching you.

still perched in that damn chair like a prince of chlorine and sunburns. his arms were crossed now, his mouth a neutral line. sunglasses still on, but you could feel his eyes trailing you all the way back.

you stopped under the chair. shaded. arms crossed. grilled cheese in one hand, cherry slush in the other.

“that wasn’t running,” you said, flat.

he shrugged. “didn’t look like walkin’ either.”

you narrowed your eyes. “are you serious?”

“deadly,” he said, voice easy, smooth like warm syrup. and then, just for a second, his eyes dropped, dragged down your bare legs, over the cling of your tee, the damp edge of your bikini bottom peeking out just above your hip. he didn’t look away when he said it, didn’t even blink.

“you tryin’ to get me fired?” his voice dipped lower, drawled a little now. “walkin’ around all wet and pretty, flashin’ that little smile?”

you hadn’t smiled at him once today.

but you didn’t argue. not when his gaze lingered. not when his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, slow and unbothered, like he could already taste you on the back of his teeth.

you glanced around. kids everywhere. parents at the tables. a radio crackling out “take on me” in the background like none of this mattered.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered.

he grinned. finally. that grin. teeth sharp, cheeks dimpled, the kind of grin that made something tighten low in your stomach even though you refused to let it.

“mhm. and you’re still standin’ here.”

you turned to leave. a short breath, a full body blink, and you were done.

phwEEEEEEEEEET.

again.

you stopped mid-step. turned your head, sharp. “what now?”

he leaned forward this time, elbows on his knees, voice just loud enough to reach you. not loud enough for anyone else.

“forgot to say thank you.”

your brows pinched. “for what?”

he smirked. tilted his chin. “givin’ me somethin’ to think about later.”

and then he licked his lips. lazy. unapologetic. then let his tongue linger at the corner, like the taste of you was already in his mouth.

“see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

you walked away before your face could betray anything but irritation.

but your heart was beating faster than it had all week.

…

your bedroom smelled like strawberry shampoo and suntan lotion.

your towel was still hanging off the corner of your dresser, leaving damp spots on the wood. the oscillating fan in the window buzzed low, doing more humming than cooling, its plastic blades turning slow in the heavy air.

you were lying sideways across your twin bed in a tank top and underwear, legs sticky against the floral sheets your mom kept threatening to replace but never did. the window was cracked, and outside, you could still hear a lawn sprinkler ticking in uneven bursts.

it was almost dark.

the radio was on low, wham! or maybe belinda carlisle, something soft and too romantic for how you were feeling.

you weren’t thinking about him.

or at least, you were trying not to.

but every time you blinked, there it was again: the look from the chair. the way he said sweetheart. like it wasn’t a joke. like it wasn’t new.

you pressed your thighs together, tight. just once.

just enough to shut the thought out.

the cordless was in its cradle on your nightstand. not sleek, but chunky, plastic, pale pink, with a coiled cord stretched from the base to the receiver like a vine you’d half-unwound during a hundred late-night calls. your initials were scratched into the back in blue pen. there was a red hello kitty sticker peeling from the side.

you reached for it with a sigh and pressed speed dial with your thumb. the beep echoed in the quiet, then the slow trill of ringing.

once. twice. three times.

“yo,” came hajime’s voice, scratchy and loose, like he’d answered mid-laugh. in the background, you heard dorm noise: a guy yelling about a bet, a tv set to something grainy and too loud, someone slapping a door closed.

“hey,” you said. your voice came out softer than you meant it to. maybe even unsure.

but his changed instantly, toned down and warm, like flipping a switch. “hey, baby. i missed you today.”

you rolled onto your back, the fan hitting your shins now, the back of your knees damp against the quilt.

there was a pause. not long. just enough to catch the drag of static on the line, a distant door slamming shut in his dorm, the sound of him shifting, probably adjusting the phone against his cheek, maybe switching it to the other shoulder.

when he spoke again, his voice had softened. warm. a little lower. like he was finally settling in. “how was your day?”

you paused. your free hand found the hem of your tank top and twisted it around your finger.

don’t say the pool. don’t say him. don’t think about red trunks or his eyes on your thighs. don’t think about the way he made you feel like you were on fire and everyone could see the smoke.

“boring,” you said finally. “hot. i went to the pool for a bit.”

“with your girls?”

“yeah.”

you heard the creak of a mattress. the shuffle of him shifting, probably on his back now, one arm behind his head like he always did.

“you wear that red bikini?”

you smiled. not because it made you happy, but just out of habit. your lips curled automatically.

“mhm.”

“damn,” he muttered, voice dropping a little, that boyish warmth sliding into something lower. “wish i was there. wish i could’ve helped you put on the sunscreen.”

your chest tightened.

you didn’t answer. just turned your face to the side and closed your eyes, letting the phone cord run through your fingers. it felt old. familiar. safe.

you curled tighter into yourself, heart thudding now. not fast. not loud. just… off.

“how’s school?” you asked. your voice came out too even.

he groaned. “tiring. i’ve got a midterm next week but i just wanna drive down and see you.”

“you’ll be here soon.”

your voice was light. automatic. the kind of thing you’d said a dozen times already this month.

“the weekend after next,” he said.

his tone was quiet, steady, but there was something clipped at the end. not annoyed, just tired. like saying it out loud made it feel further away.

“i know.”

you bit your lip. felt the fan cut across your stomach. the slushie from earlier was still in your veins, like syrup you couldn’t shake.

there was a long pause.

you could hear him breathing. soft. steady. waiting for you to say something else. to fill it.

but you didn’t.

because you didn’t want to talk. you just wanted to breathe without someone waiting for you to explain something.

“i should go,” you said finally, voice quiet. “my mom’s yelling about dinner.”

he made a noise, surprised. not mad, just disappointed. “already?”

“yeah.”

another beat.

“…okay. love you.”

you hesitated. not long. just a second. but it still hit different. “love you too.”

you hung up before he could ask anything else.

the dial tone hummed through the receiver. you didn’t move.

the fan kept buzzing. the radio kept playing. somewhere in the corner, a moth tapped once against the lamp. and all you could think about—all you could feel, was the sound of a whistle. and the way he said sweetheart.

…

the sun was a little lower today.

not quite five yet, but golden hour had started creeping in early. the pool shimmered like a bottle of melted soda, all amber light and soft ripples, and the air smelled like nacho cheese and hawaiian tropic. a-ha was playing on the radio again, soft, slightly warped through the blown speaker near the snack shack.

you were trying to relax.

you’d claimed the same chair under the “no running” sign, towel folded beneath your back, a paperback resting on your stomach unread. you’d brought your walkman but hadn’t put the headphones on yet. mai was floating in the deep end, waving her arms like she was trying to tan her armpits. someone’s little brother kept doing bellyflops off the side.

you were fine. you were being good.

your sunglasses were on. your legs were crossed at the ankle. your phone call with hajime was still fresh in your head. he said he missed you. said he couldn’t wait to see you.

you hadn’t stopped thinking about it. about him. about what you owed to hajime. how easy he made it to love him.

you exhaled. closed your eyes.

and then, like clockwork— “you get tired of pretending yet?”

your eyes snapped open but you didn’t even have to look. you already knew that voice. lazy. slanted. the kind of voice that felt like a hand slipping under your shirt.

atsumu was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up into his hair this time. his red lifeguard tank was bunched slightly at the chest, clinging from where he’d just come off shift. he looked sun-kissed, smug, and completely unbothered.

you sat up halfway, lifting your sunglasses with one hand, squinting against the light.

“excuse me?”

he smirked. stepped closer. his shadow spilled across your thighs.

“just sayin’,” he drawled. “seems like you spend an awful lotta time tryin’ not to look at me.”

you blinked. hard.

anger spiked like heat behind your ribs.

“i have a boyfriend,” you snapped, sharper than you meant. “you can stop wasting your time.”

he didn’t flinch. just blinked slowly, like you’d said something amusing, not scalding, and held his hands up in mock surrender.

“damn,” he said. “cold blooded.”

his mouth twitched at the corner. not quite a grin. not quite sincere.

“guess i’ll go think about you from over there, then,” he added, gesturing lazily to the other side of the deck. “wouldn’t wanna disrespect your honor.”

you stared, jaw tight. fists clenched on your towel.

but he was already walking away.

you flopped back into your chair. yanked your sunglasses down. bit your cheek.

you were furious.

not with him. with yourself.

because your pulse was still racing. because your stomach was tight in a way it shouldn’t be. because even after you shut your eyes again, all you could think about was the way he looked standing over you.

like he already knew how this ended. and he was just waiting for you to admit it.

…

it hit you at the vending machine.

you were digging for change in your denim jacket pocket, cherry cola already halfway selected, when you glanced out the hallway window. something about the glare, the shape of someone’s shadow, made your pulse spike. made you look twice. but it wasn’t him.

and that’s when you realized.

you hadn’t seen him in days.

not just at the pool, but here, too. not at the gym, not leaning against his locker with his sunglasses hooked into the collar of his tee. not even slinking through the back row of english like he didn’t care who saw him cut class. nothing. like he’d been plucked clean off the map.

you didn’t expect to notice his absence.

but you did.

it wasn’t like you were looking for him. at least, not on purpose. but every time you walked past the gym or turned the corner near the english wing or slid open your locker between periods, your chest would tighten, just a little. like maybe he’d be there. leaning. watching. saying something stupid with that crooked smile.

but he wasn’t.

not for five whole days.

not in the lifeguard chair either.

you and your friends went to the pool twice that week. same sun, same lukewarm water, same cracked speakers playing prince and the bangles. but someone else sat in the deep-end chair now. some skinny junior named shoyo who didn’t know how to smirk and didn’t wear his sunglasses low on his nose.

“guess your pool boy quit,” mai teased the fourth day, swinging her legs over the side of the lounge chair while flipping through a dog-eared issue of seventeen.

you just rolled your eyes. sipped your lemonade through a bendy straw. told yourself it was a relief.

it wasn’t. not really.

…

by the next monday, school felt heavier. the heat was worse. the overhead lights buzzed harder in every class, and your final project was due in bio.

hajime had called three times in one night, and you let it ring every time. the kitchen phone had that high-pitched trill that echoed into the hallway. you just laid on your bed with your headphones on and let it ring out.

you almost didn’t go to the pool that afternoon.

but you did. because you always did.

and that’s where you saw him.

same chair. same lifeguard trunks. same slouching confidence. aviators back in place, resting high on his nose. legs spread like he never left.

except—his arm.

not the whole thing. just the inside of his forearm. but when he reached up to fix his whistle cord, you saw it. three angry red lines, barely scabbed. long. like scratches. like claws.

your eyes caught on them before you could stop yourself.

and he noticed. because of course he did.

he smirked, lowered his hand slowly, almost theatrically. like he had shown you on purpose.

“miss me?”

your mouth opened, but no words came out.

he leaned forward on the chair, elbow resting on one knee. his voice had that lazy pull again, the one that made you feel like he was stretching your name out in his mouth even when he wasn’t saying it.

“looks like you did. saw that little double take. or was it the arm?”

you narrowed your eyes. “what happened?”

he looked down at the scratches like he was only just remembering them, then looked back at you and smiled.

“catfight.”

you raised a brow. “literally or metaphorically?”

he tilted his head, leaned in a little. “you jealous?”

you didn’t answer. just stared, jaw tight.

he hopped down from the chair like it was nothing, feet landing light on the concrete. walked over to you with the towel slung low on his hip, red tank top pushed halfway up one side. the band-aid on his arm was curling at the edge now that you were close. the scratches looked worse. not life-threatening, but not surface-level either.

you stepped back without meaning to.

he noticed that too.

“relax,” he said, flashing teeth. “you think i got mauled or somethin’? told you, just a girl with sharp nails and no patience.”

“must’ve done something to deserve it.”

he grinned. that grin. the one that never reached his eyes.

“oh, sweetheart. you have no idea.”

then he moved past you, brushing close enough that you caught it: his scent. sunscreen and something darker underneath. like copper. like firecrackers. like the back of your tongue when you bite it too hard.

he climbed back up to the chair like he never left it. and when he sat back down, one leg dangling, whistle twirling around his finger, he didn’t look away.

he kept watching you.

like he never stopped.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 5 Franklin. (Finale!)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Quirky Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Slow Burn. Fluffy. Drama. Use of the n-word, Soft SMUT.

Summary: You have a very wild imagination. But what happens when imagination bleeds into reality? Will you rise above it, or crumble and fall? Please check out parts 1,2,3,4 on the Mrs. Saint Writes (Masterlist). 

Word count: 10,454k  / Comment and Like to show some love. It's oh so appreciated!

“W-What, what did you say?” Maybe you heard wrong, maybe what just happened was all part of an elusive bad dream. Maybe, you still had the opportunity to wake up! 

The living room contained colorful throw pillows and the plush velvet couch your mother gave you. When Franklin stood, he rounded the brown coffee table to approach you. For whatever reason your feet kept making distance. Backward and backward until the hard wall made it no longer possible to travel any further. Too late, you stood there as he met you. 

Did you ever notice how much taller he was than you? Probably at some point. In the moment though, you couldn't be certain of anything, but the height difference was greatly intimidating. 

You clutched onto your notebook, hoping that Whoopi would perform some miracle and save you up outta this mess. But she remained plastered on the outer workings of the thin cover board intact and still, just as she always had. Her beaming smile no longer provided comfort. She'd spilled all the secrets she'd sworn to protect, and for that, you could never forgive. 

In your plotting against Whoopi, Franklin lowered his head, closing space and bringing you both closer to each other. He could whisper in your ear if he wanted to. That’s how close he came. Instead he lowered his gaze, then you watched his eyes shut. All you could think about was Mexico.

“I didn't want it to be you. Didn’t wanna believe it,” he said. “But since it is...” 

You were looking at a different pair of eyes when Franklin opened his. You watched him direct his attention over to where he'd sat the backpack. Curious, you looked on in the same direction. When he faced you, You couldn't meet his stare. The intensity burned on him like fire, and his tone of voice had shifted. You were at a loss for words. This Franklin that had towered over you, scared you. 

“Excu- wha- I don't.” 

For some reason you just couldn't make them bitches articulate right. There was a grin that came and went so quick on him, you couldn't be sure that you’d seen it at all. 

“He put you up to this? Teddy…” 

You narrowed your stare. Not at him at first but the backpack, trying to comb through your mind. All was quiet as you scrambled to figure out just what the hell he was talking about. No one in class had that name. 

“I'm sorry. You lost me. Who the hell is Teddy?” you said in one breath. 

Hold up a minute. Let's Rewind ⏪

The sun slowly sank behind the Los Angeles skyline. Leon took a sip of his drink, a very expensive cognac and flipped to the next page. The music from the club bounced against the walls, but didn’t cause enough of a distraction that what he’d just read was lost on him. He allowed his deep brown hues to trace over words written in blue ink, finishing off the last sentence on the page. When he closed the front, greeted with a smiling Whoopi Goldberg, he offered a strange scowl. Shaking his head he'd laughed and directed his attention up at Franklin. 

“Damn nigga. Wasn’t expecting to know you in such an intimate way. Not that I ever wanted to.” 

Leon tossed the notebook. It landed on the coffee table to lay among some empty shot glasses Louie kept for guests and an ashtray requested by Leon, that he used to set his dying doobie. 

“If you ain’t already fucked her. Based on that, she sure thinks you have.” 

Franklin paced the floor before he found a seat across from Leon. He put up a hand after he lowered his head. 

“All that shit aside Lee. What about the rest of it? I mean it’s almost coded like she knows. About everything. Curtis sounds like Rob, and Donovon sounds like Avi. Fuckin Marco sounds like Oso. The gotdamn FBI is the CIA. Fuck!”

Leon remained composed despite the sudden outburst of frustration. 

“Yeah. I peeped that too. You think she one of um? Like maybe she workin’ for him.” 

Franklin sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Shit man. Your guess is as good as mine. I dunno. Could be. Outta nowhere he shows back up.” 

Like he couldn't sit still in one place for too long, Franklin got up and walked over to the window. Pretty soon the sun disappeared completely, letting the city lights take over, which created a dazzling display of colors and lights. 

“He never did like me branchin’ into real estate. Felt like it would draw too much attention. Like Alton. He shook his head and shoved his hands deep within his pockets. “Naw. Wouldn't put it past Teddy to do no shit like that. Her being in that class would make sense then. Keep an eye without havin’ to get his hands dirty.”

Leon sat up, grabbed the doobie, and turned it in the ashtray to kill the lingering ember. “Well that's not really far-fetched. I never understood why yo’ ass was there in the first place ta’ be honest.” 

Franklin turned to face him. “For the knowledge Lee. Wanted to make sure I was goin’ bout shit the right way. I don't give a fuck about the piece of paper they give you at the end. But ta know how.” 

Leon smirked at the seriousness in the words. “Well okay then college boy. But a couple trips to the library woulda’ probably done the job.” 

Franklin lifted his chin and shut his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s just way too detailed ta’ make me comfortable just leavin’ it alone.” He picked up the notebook. “Besides that, I brought her to my house. She could have it bugged. Cervalence on the operation. Now she won't answer.” He faced the phone. “Ignoring my pages. She must know I have it.”

“Whelp. If that's the case you got less than twenty four hours. Can't take that much to get on a plane and bounce up outta this motherfucka. If that ain't the case already. Know what I'm sayin'.”

Franklin looked down through the window onto the dance floor filled with bodies. Eugene Wilde’s ‘Gotta get you home tonight’, filling their bones with smooth soulful rhythm. “Yeah. I know what you sayin'. I need to make a move,” He offered. I know where she stay at.” 

“Either way, looks like you’ll be livin’ up to the name, one way or another, nigga.” 

Franklin nodded. “Yeah. Listen. Let’s keep this between us, huh. I don’t think it’s that serious where we need to involve Jerome and Louie.”

“I hear you.” Leon held onto a grin and gave a head nod to Franklin’s pistol that rested on the counter of the table before he leaveld himself into a comfortable position in the arm chair. “So. What it gon’ be Saint? How you finna play this?” 

Franklin held his gaze over the gun then raised his chin before his eyes crossed with Leon’s. 

…

8:25PM. Franklin made his way through the bustling Los Angeles. 

The city lights illuminated his path over the dark street as he drove with the sounds of cars and music blaring in the background. Crisp night air flowed through open windows, carrying the beat of the entire city with it. Franklin turned up the radio and added his voice along to the last few lines of his favorite tune as the ending came. 

Replaced by the radio announcer, he leveled his focus when the next song filled within the speakers. 

‘Celebrate good times, come on.’ 

He sat back and and with a sigh veered off as he took the next right down a half lit street. 

He parked after driving one more block just as the last bit of lyrics filled his ears, ‘It's a celebration…’ had taken him right in front of the apartment building. 

The last time he heard the song, it was raining. 

Shutting of the engine, Franklin waited, then reached over to open the glove compartment. He pulled out the notebook, lifted his shirt and slipped it underneath. He reached to grab the pistol sitting in plain view, and the yellow backpack on the passenger seat to sit it inside. 

He walked to the door at 8:45PM and knocked four good knocks. Voices on the other side halted. Grabbing the strap on the backpack he put on a smile just seconds before the door opened.  

OKAY, NOW BACK TO THE SHOW! ▶️

“You really gonna stand here in my face and act like you don't know what I'm talkin' about? Who are you?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Franklin, are you actually on something? What do you mean who am I? Seriously, who is Teddy? How would he even know about the notebook? It was just for me.”

“Oh. Just for you, huh? Yeah, so your tryna fuck shit up for me all by yourself?” 

“What!” You blurted out. “No, fuck up for you? What are you talking about?”  

“My bidness!” Franklin shouted. 

You flinched, he said that word so passionately that you stayed with it. “What business? The project at school?” You asked. Suddenly you'd gotten mad. This was turning into a full blown argument and something deep inside you brought in an unknown courage to stand up for yourself. You raised your arms and pushed him back creating much needed space between you both. 

“Look. I told you I was sorry,” you shouted back at him with just as much passion. “Yeah, I shoulda showed up that day we made plans to meet at the library. Helped you out. It was juvenile, stupid. I never meant to put your grade in jeopardy.” 

“My grade?” 

“Yes, isn’t that why you're so pissed off?” 

Franklin’s expression displayed pure confusion. “So you're telling me that you…” He trailed off and never finished, standing there looking like he had fallen into some sudden forum of private thought.

“That I what?” You said in effort to press whatever he was thinking out into the open. Instead of clarity, he offered you a calmer demeanor, vastly different from his passion filled glare. 

“You really don’t know what I'm talkin’ bout, do you?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “No. I don't. Like your business degree path I’m guessing.” You were still trying to figure it all out. “I don’t even know anything about your business. We didn't talk about anything like that. Like a business you start after the certification? But I wouldn’t, fuck that up.” You looked down and tapped the notebook before you looked at him.  “This. I wasn’t out to hurt you. Like black mail or some shit.”

“What's the truth?” 

“The truth?” 

Scary words that carried the weight of the world, and at the same time the very pile of shit Enrique had encouraged you to take care of. There was nowhere to run. Nothing to hide behind. 

“The truth is. I like you Franklin. Just too scared to tell you.” You shrugged. “Story of my life. Just shy. Probably a little outta this world or weird in some things. I don’t have the confidence to really go at it. See. I’m always terrified of the outcome. In order to cope, I uh, write. Imagine or whatever. Juicy isn’t really me. Just like Saint ain't really you.” 

You sniffed. Were those tears? 

“I could never be as confident as her,” you continued. “I made it all up. All it was was just my own way of coping with my own loneliness. Got tired of seeing everyone else around me happy. Content. So I made that happy place for me where no one could touch. Where I could be myself, or other versions I wanted to be.” You wiped at your cheeks. “It was nice. Feeling like I had someone that could really understand me. Someone I know had my back, no matter what. Someone I could take on the world with.” You moved your attention toward the window that held so much symbolism in the span of one long grueling day. “You don’t know how many times I tried to find all that in the real world. Or how bad I wanted it. Juicy and Saint have it.” Your eyes slowly left the window and back on Franklin. “But I know it isn’t real.” 

He hadn't taken his focus away. Even as you moved, his stare moved right along with you and your words. 

“So even though it was messed up. Which I admit, and am in no way making an excuse for. Just think how hard it is to stand before you right now and say all this. I worked so hard to get this damn notebook back… Did things I probably wouldn't have. But I was desperate. Because. Because I never wanted you to know me like this,” your voice shook.

Franklin raised his chin, listening sure, but he still said nothing.

“Who’s to say, we probably could have had a thing if it wasn’t for all this dumb shit I pulled. I could've just asked you out for a burrito at Mr. El Taco’s like I wanted to. It all seemed better in my head. I mean. Maybe we could have talked, got to know each other. It was nice talking to you when we were working on the project at your house away from class. And the ride home. I wasn't trippin’ that night we danced in the rain, was I? Feeling like maybe there could have been more to that moment?” You sniffed and shook your head. “But then you pulled away so I guess not. Wishful thinking.” You sucked in a breath. “I'm sorry Franklin, I shouldn't have dragged you into my own personal misery. But I didn't plan to ever show anyone. Or embarrass you in any way. And if I have, I never meant to.” 

You hated how he looked at you. How his eyes made you feel small. You couldn’t read his expression. Not only that, but you had just bared your entire soul. For the longest, no one knew that truth about you, but you. But now Franklin knew. He knew just how pathetic you were. A daydreaming coward, with pages and pages of what if’s… 

It all became way too overwhelming and you rushed past him rounding the corner to the bathroom, where you slammed the door shut before throwing the godforsaken notebook that had caused you the worst humiliation you’d ever experienced. 

As it hit the inside of the shower your back pressed on the door and you slid to the floor, knees up and head bowed down on top of them. You sucked in air and let out a shaky breath. You tried your best to stifle your crying but you couldn’t fight the urge anymore. You wrapped your arms around your legs and rocked. 

With the thought of the project in your mind, how you would make an excuse about skipping the day of the presentation became a present concern. How instead it would be better to just drop the class all together and maybe take it again once Franklin left. 

Knock knock. You heard your name from the other side of the wood. It had your heart pounding, but you made no effort to turn toward his voice, or open the door for him. 

“Hey. Come on.” 

Really, was there anything else left to say? You shook your head knowing he couldn’t see it. So you took a deep breath. “Um, no Franklin. I kinda just wanna forget everything. If you know what I mean. I just wanna be left alone.” 

“Please.” 

You shot up from your place on the floor and took hold of the handle, turning it until the water rushed out. Twisting the knob on the wall, the shower started up. With it all the way on ‘hot’, steam began to fill the room. You found your place at the door as you watched the mirror cloud until it disappeared within the light fog you’d created. 

“No. I’m taking a shower, okay. Just…” You shut your eyes. The words were hard to say but for once there was strength that showed itself. You’d taken care of the pile of shit, as horrible an analogy Enrique gave earlier that morning, but that’s how you cleaned up the mess. Admitting, and letting go and steaming yourself to death. You waved some away from your teary eyes. “Go home,” you whispered just barely. 

You felt like you sat there for days. The water running made it hard to hear anything from the other side, but you thought you heard the door close. He had left and you rested your head before getting up and cutting the shower and water off. It was over. You placed a hand over your heart to make sure it was still there. You must have been in that bathroom for twenty minutes, or more. You may have felt dead inside, but your hair had a field day with all the moisture it obtained. Well, at least there was that. 

You opened the door. The steamed jumped from behind you to reach the surrounding room only to dissipate later after its courageous flight into the unknown. With your eyes on the front door you walked over turning the lock. 

“Have a good shower?”

You bout jumped from your skin. You made a turn with your whole body, wide eyes and ready for a fight. 

“What the hell are you still doing here? I thought you left?” 

He shook his head with a casual effort to lightly shrug his shoulders. “Naw. We needed to talk. Still do.”

You noticed his hand. An apple, one from your share held tightly in his grasp half eaten. The walls were painted a soft cream color, giving the apartment a warm and inviting feel. Maybe that was why Franklin felt so at home. 

You huffed. “But I don't wanna talk to you, Franklin. I don't have anything else to say.” 

Franklin took a bite and chewed, mouth full as he spoke to you. “Okay. Then I'll talk. You just listen.” 

He sat the apple down on the kitchen counter and stood in your direction. 

“I'll admit. Finding that notebook. Reading what you wrote. It was all a little weird for me.” 

Great. So he was gonna stand there and tell you what you already knew. He thought you to be a fucking weirdo psychopath stalker. Strange, outta the ordinary. 

“I mean. The detail was insane. Then I thought, well damn, why is she in finance class? You could write a book. A good one too.”

Was it too soon to smile? You'd never gotten a compliment about your writing. Not unless it was technical. That was usually only by professors. The one time you had decided to share it had been a let down. It damaged you, and scarred you to silence. Whoopi wasn't the first. You thought he would finish, but Franklin just kept on. 

“Then I also thought. I wish she would've just told me.” 

Your heart began to speed in its beat pattern.

“Because then I could have said how I really felt.” 

You wanted so desperately to ask how, but your speech had fled. You were unable to speak, romanced in solely to the word felt. How did he really feel? 

Franklin grinned as he took a seat on one of the nearby chairs. After he made himself comfortable, he looked up in your direction. 

 “I always looked forward to class on Wednesday cause I knew I'd get to see you. I'd pay close attention to the answers you gave, how you always knew your shit. How you exceeded this confidence for yourself that made you so attractive to me. I mean don’t get me wrong, Juicy is bad, but she's only bad because she's fashioned after you. And when you laugh, it's just like playing my favorite song.” Franklin licked his lips. “You would always look good. Look like you put time into the details of everything you wore, all the way down to the pattern or that little speck of color on your earrings. There were days that I pretended you were doing that especially for me. And if you were, I noticed.” 

If he only knew. Your lips parted at this revelation, this confession. He went on…

“Whenever we talked, it was like you could really hear me. Then reading the notebook felt like being exposed in a way. I understand that. That need. That desire for that one. That one you could build an empire wit, cuz y'all shit that tight and solid. Like, it wouldn't matter if the whole world turned its back. I got you, you got me.” Franklin shook his head. “I don't know, juicy and Saint made it seem like a love like that might still be possible. Not hopeless. That if something like that couldn't be found. At least it could be built.” 

You almost wanted to tear up, and even more than that, ball your eyes out, but the whole situation was already beyond dramatic. You had done enough crying in the bathroom with the steam overload. Instead, you breathed out the breath you had held up and smiled at him. A genuine smile to what he said about you amidst all the other shit. 

"Well damn, Franklin. Write me to pieces. Nobody ever said anything like that so nice to me before. I mean. So real. Everything always seemed one sided. See it was always me with all these feelings. Never the other party. Unrequited." 

“Not this time.” 

You chuckled wiping at your eyes as you lowered your head. Those words, so sweet, you could eat um. 

"To be completely honest,” he continued. “I was feelin’ you from the very beginning. That first day I walked into the class. But uh, I didn't know you were taken. When I found out, I backed up. That night in the rain tho'. I was tempted to say fuck it and kiss you. I thought about that night a lot since then. And now that song. It reminds me of us.”

You were left frozen by the confession, cloud nine Temptation style. “Really, Franklin?”

A small laugh left him. “Yeah. But I don't ever wanna step on another niggas toes, so. That's why I never made a move. Truth be told, I like Mr. El Tacos too. Enrique’s good people. He woulda’ given us the hook up. And I would have loved to grab a burrito wit’ you." 

Damn so he actually knew Enrique, and uh…..

Record scratch…..

"Hold on. Pause. Back up. What do you mean, taken? I'm sorry. Who's toes would you exactly be stepping on?" You combed through your mind for a possible answer after catching on to what he’d said. A vital part you missed up on the cloud. This one totally stumped you. For the life of you, you couldn't figure it out. Who was he talking about! 

"My boy Will said y'all had a thing. And from the way y'all interact in class, I mean…" he shrugged his shoulders, smiled and stared at you from his position on the chair he sat on. 

Maybe Franklin wasn't as perceptive or as sharp as you thought. Couldn't be if he believed such a lie! Even a fool knew that was born in fables. You had this blank stare, all you could see in your view was red. 

"I am going to jail for murder. I can't. That nigga really told you I was, okay where's my knife at?" 

You had begun to rummage through the surrounding drawers and cabinets. Had you not been so angry you would have discovered it in the pocket of your purse. Where you always kept it.

Franklin watched only for a minute before he got up laughing and waving his arms as he met you nearing the front door. "Wow wow, chill. Calm down. It's coo.” 

“The hell it is. He lyin’ like that? Nun uh.” 

Had you known that Will was the reason you’d missed out on the chance of a rain kiss, you would have choked him out the day he slid you the spy binoculars. 

“So what you sayin', y'all not together?”

“Franklin. Seriously. I'm offended you'd even ask. Hell no no no and Definitely not ever! What do I look like hugged up with baby Curtis blow?”

Franklin laughed, he laughed so much he put a hand on his stomach. You didn't laugh, you had a permanent face of disgust, which only intensified with Franklin’s laughing fit. It really wasn't that damn funny. Franklin moved his hands up and down each of your arms possibly as a way of calming you. It did as much to keep you in one place at least. 

“Okay okay, it's alright. I got the answer I was lookin' for,” he said and grinned some as his laughing eventually stopped. “Let the man keep his life. So he couldn't help himself. Saw somethin' special and wanted to mark his territory. I get it.” His eyes moved over you before he raised his chin and the smile grew on him. “Looks like I got here first tho'." 

You weren't sure why your heart fluttered at those words but you rubbed your lips together trying to contain a smile before you looked up at him. The new sensation that found you so suddenly felt right, somehow. You noticed, and wondered if he did too. 

"Franklin,” you whispered. “Your hand is on my ass."

He held his gaze. "You want me to move it?"

You held your gaze too. "No." 

You were soon like magnets to each other. This unseen force was pulling, easing you closer together all the way until your lips connected. 

It was the most anticipated kiss you ever had in your life. You'd lost the opportunity in the rain that night heading back to your place, but this made up for it. For forever you contemplated what it would be like to kiss him. Every single Wednesday you sat in finance class staring at his lips, wondering what they would feel like over yours. Many things you couldn't describe to yourself. All you could be certain was that now that you were living this fantasy, his lips were extremely soft. 

The softest! 

In your savoring the moment, Franklin had groaned, eager for more. His warm tongue pushed for entry into your mouth, and once he squeezed your ass, it was all signed, sealed and delivered. You invited him eagerly, things going from sweet to indefinitely hungry in the split of a second!

You weren't sure what possessed you to do it, but you'd found the edge of his shirt, and with curious fingers proceeded underneath its fabric to satisfy your wonderings. 

Saint had these incredible abs that Juicy liked to feel up. Didn't matter what occasion. She just liked to touch him. You were eager to see how the real Franklin showed up. The area between your legs offered you some kind of signal when you felt how firm and hard they actually were, and the wetness you despised came all at once dosing your underwear. He worked out, though you could barely ever tell with what he wore. You grew greedy. Now you wanted the shirt off and gone so you could see. 

Letting your cheek go free, Franklin had busied himself with removing his jacket. He struggled, but you gladly offered help in getting it to come all the way off. Your kissing had not yet ceased in the entire process. Tongues in a vicious battle, each trying to dominate. You sneaked up a hand to sit on the side of Franklin's face. It eventually made its place around his neck and without realizing it, you both had started to move around the living room with him asking for directions. 

“Where,” Kiss, “Your room at?” Kiss.

Your lips were damn near swollen when you briefly pulled back to point him toward the right path. He obliged and placed one of his hands to the lower part of your back to guide you both there safely. You passed the suitcase filled with clothes along the way and made it into the bedroom, going until the bed became your final destination. 

Franklin’s shoes were the first thing to come off. You had gathered your T-shirt over your head and threw it down somewhere on the floor. And the discarding of clothes continued. Your pants, his pants. Your bra. His shirt. Your hands stopped moving. Eyes locked onto his bare chest and broad shoulders. Franklin grinned. You blinked yourself back when he caught you, going to remove your socks next. 

“Naw.” He said to counter. “Leave those on. I like um.” 

You tilted your head and gave him this weirdly stupid grin as he made his way over to the bed still in his boxers and socks crawling over you. 

Just like that, the kissing started back up. When he'd decide to leave your lips to explore the bare skin that presented a trail of temptation, you watched. 

By and by he slid his tongue. You became lost in ecstasy and wanting. His journey stopped at your breasts. Franklin hovered over one nipple and pressed his lips down to suck. You couldn't decide where they felt the best. He didn't leave your other breast abandoned. Moving from one to the other he conducted the same action. Then he moved his tongue just under the areola and pressed a kiss. Wet kisses continued all the way to your navel, moving up to your neck then back down to the skin around your belly button. 

“Ahhhh, Franklin,” You moaned, reveling in all the little memory markers he made over your skin. 

“That feels so good.” 

You could literally feel his smile. With both hands, he grabbed the band of your panties and slid the fabric up and over your knees before he tossed them. 

“Damn.”

“What!” You were just about to get self conscious. He sounded shocked.  Somethings wrong, you thought. He doesn't like it! Me! He doesn't like me. The way I look? Oh hell! But then… you heard him let out a breath and you looked down just in time to catch him looking down at you. You wondered what the hell it was he saw.

“Mmmm,” he smirked. “Pussy that fuckin’ juicy, already? I ain’t even do nothin’ yet.”

All the worry vanished, you sighed and laid on your back with a small roll of the eyes. The nickname Saint had given to story you! It definitely held merit. You swore, that damn bitch between your legs had a mind of her own. You always had an extra pair of panties handy because you never knew when she might act up. 

Caught off guard, Franklin had taken it upon himself to cup your entire mound, undoubtedly coating his hand in your wetness. Your body jerked at the slow massage he began to apply, while you listened to the sounds it made in the quiet of the room. Electricity ran through places inside your body you didn’t know existed. To feel his lips encircle one of your nipples was like the ultimate sensation with his hand situated in the place you only ever imagined it to be. 

You were already breathless by the time Franklin spread your thighs and bent down between your legs. His tongue lapped at your inner core until you were more wet than before, almost to the point of dripping as your body shook under the presence of his warm tongue. He was kissing you there like he’d kissed your lips in the living room. 

You extended your fingers to touch his head and run over the tight coils of his thick wooly hair, begging him to inch his marvelous muscle deeper inside you, only unable to say it out loud. All rational speech had gone from you. All you were able to do was cry out and bite your lip to try and stifle the moans. As Franklin closed his lips around the outer structure of your pussy and sucked generously on different areas, your leg found its place on his shoulder. You were gasping in air at the overwhelming sensations. Air that never seemed quiet enough.

You were at a crossroads, you wanted him deeper, but you also wanted to push him away. The intensity had your back arched as Franklin decided to run his thumb over your clit before his lips pulled at the delicate flesh to tease. His grunts rippled deep into your throbbing walls. His face became covered in all your juices. Nose and mouth. He offered your pussy one last kiss, lapping up what he could before your legs began to shake. You could no longer control them. It was like your body had a mind of his own. Sure, you’d been eaten out before, but never like this. Franklin sat up, his thumb still at your clit, only his thumb rubbed at a quicker pace driving you crazy. Your hand bunched up with sheet and some blanket. Eyes rolling to the back of your head before a line of liquid shot from your urethra. The feeling made you look down at yourself suddenly. No use trying to stop it, more came. Then more. Shit, you thought. Had you just peed on yourself? You were nervous to look in Franklin’s direction. What would he think, what would he say? You braved yourself a glance, finding that instead his face had lit up. Proud, fascinated, hell, dare your observation make out delight running across his deeply melanated features as he slid his hand down over his mouth with the brief indent of a light dimple on his cheek. 

“Dammmmmn. Squirting like that. All for me.” 

So thaaaaaat’s what Candy was talking about. An ah ha moment. Finally you knew exactly what an organism felt like.

“Makes me wonder how it’s gon’ feel around me.” Franklin pulled at the band on his boxers and down they went until only his white socks remained on him. You had no time to see what he was working with before he moved and made himself comfortable between your legs with his face just inches away from yours. His dick felt like a rock brushing against a part of your thigh.

“Hm. Taste.” He leaned and kissed you, tongue and all. This combination of your essence and remnants of apple. Damn, this nigga was so nasty. You loved it.

This was really about to happen! Sex with Franklin Saint. You were over the moon, ecstatic, the happiest girl on the planet even. Finally! Fucking finally you were getting something you really wanted. But then a thought. You called it out abruptly to warrant its importance. You were horny sure, but not crazy. 

“Franklin, wait wait hold on. What about protection?” You whispered beneath him.

He licked his lips, and looked down at you like you were speaking some foreign language he didn’t understand. 

“What?”

“Condom.” You clarified. “Got one?”

Franklin shook his head. “Naw. We good. I got you, I'll pull out.” He kissed you then moved to a spot on your neck, running his tongue over a previous bruise he’d left. 

That made you forget your statement, well almost. You’ll pull out, nigga really? Your logic was screaming at you. Bitch get up. You really gon' let this nigga raw dawg you! Your body betrayed you though, disloyal like a motherfucka, and you lifted up pressing deeper into another one of his kisses when you felt a hand run across the inner part of your thigh. Many a night your own hand had been there, but the sensation was to no comparison. You’d take Franklin's hand in between your legs over your own any day. You wanted this, so bad. To feel what story you felt. What you only imagined. For once you chose to be selfish. Let him be the one thing you did for yourself. Let this night be your story to tell. Not just a story this time. But then yet another thought flooded your mind, Babies. Immediately you moved your lips from under the kiss and your eyes met. Fuck your body! You could literally feel your pussy purr for him. Betraying your rational mind. The one Candy swore up and down you lacked. You threw your head back, annoyed by the push and pull of your own thoughts. You wanted to know what he would feel like inside you, but you weren't sure you wanted the responsibility that came with it. It might not happen, but there was always a possibility. Your cousin told you a similar story about the ‘pull out method’ her dude used. That was three kids later.

 "I'm serious, Franklin." You sucked in a breath. "We need protection." 

Suddenly that smile that made you weak emerged and Franklin moved his hand to reach down over the edge of the bed to grab his pants and dig in his pocket. When you saw his hand come back he was holding a condom decorated in gold. This motherfucker. Willy Wonka's golden ticket to go to the chocolate factory! Hot damn y'all was back in business. You took a mental note of the words on the wrapper before you found his gaze. Fuuuuuuuuuck. You were about to be destroyed. Would your shit even stretch enough to take it all in? To be determined. 

He chuckled. "Just tryna see where ya head was at babe." 

What this nigga say? He was testing you now? Who was mind fucking who? But really, the word Babe sounded nice rolling off his tongue and directed solely at you, in the potion you’d found yourself. You wondered, could it be turning into more? You were sure you could get used to it.

You watched him focus on tearing the wrapper open. You wanted to ask if he walked around with condoms on hand, or if he had all this planned out. You had a feeling it might be the second option. Franklin was strategic, just by the way you observed him in class with some of the things he’d said. He didn't appear to be a fuck boy like Francisco. Either way you were no longer pulling the strings. Franklin was in the lead which was more of a turn on then you thought it would be and for once you weren’t the one writing the story. Back to reality and the moment he reached down to put the condom on, you looked up at the ceiling. You had been withholding some vital information that might be important for what would soon come. But how to say it. 

“Alright. We good now.” 

You felt his lips and you opened your mouth to let your tongues play a little with each other. 

During all that Franklin slipped his hand between your legs running his fingers over your slippery folds. His dick was so close it was like an added heat. That golden ticket to pure imagination! You caught onto one of his arms almost immediately. His eyes opened and he broke the kiss. 

“What?” 

"Don't you fuckin' hurt me Franklin.” You held in before you breathed out. “I ain't ever done this before." The secret was unleashed, but this one couldn't wait. 

There was a pause, like he needed to soak in the new information for a moment. A smile found him and he licked his lips. “A virgin?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes nigga. That’s usually what never done this before means.” 

“A virgin,” he repeated. 

Now the smile on his face seemed stupid and you smacked your teeth somewhat embarrassed. 

“See, you tryna clown on me, move.” 

You made an effort to push up in order to get from under him. It was a futile attempt. Franklin’s strength alone was no match. He didn’t even try all that much in strain and effort to stop you. 

“Naw. It’s just.” He paused. “I mean, are you sure you wanna do this, wit’ me? No turning back once you do.” 

That really had sounded like some Bonnie and Clyde shit. No turning back. But he wasn’t wrong. But then, why the fuck wouldn’t you go through with it? You knew you would regret it if you told him to get up and go home. That all you should be focused on was some damn Finance project. If you were crazy enough to even suggest such a thing, would another opportunity ever come around again? After all that happened over the past few days, hell the past few hours, arriving at the point you had, not turning back made sense. You were willing to go all the way. Be selfish, and think about the consequences later. Who could really say they’d even got such an opportunity with a certain someone they’d liked so terribly. Not many you knew at least, and what was wrong with walking away with a story to tell? You moved one of your hands to rest on his cheek. You lifted your head to kiss him, and once your lips parted you nodded with a small smile. “I want to. I can’t think of anyone else I’ve wanted to do this with more, Franklin.”

He never took his eyes off you. It was like they drank you in, little by little.

“I’m just kinda scared, that’s all. Worried I guess about a thing, fitting into a certain place. I saw what that damn wrapper said.” 

Franklin dropped his head and you could feel the vibrations of a very light chuckle. Once it subsided he brought his gaze back. 

“No seriously. I didn’t expect that. Just please don’t hurt me, okay,” you said almost pleadingly.  

 Franklin leaned down closer to whisper in your ear, "Imma do it just like you wrote it baby…." 

Whhhhhhhhhy! Your body must have melted into the mattress. The way he said it, how he looked at you when he said it. All you could think then was which part. You’d had so many chapters filled with words about you and him doing, thangs. You blushed at such thoughts, but your mahogany completion wouldn't allow no shit like that to be visibly seen. Good thing too. Franklin couldn't know he had you so completely. Too much confidence could be bad for a person even though you were sure by now that he could feel the heat radiating off your body calling to him. Your inexperience, nervousness, and excitement rolled all into one. You stifled a giggle, moving a hand to cover your mouth. Why the fuck did you just laugh? Damn, you were so awkward! 

Franklin reached up to pull your hand away. "You trust me?" 

Strange question and one that came out of the blue. "Well. Guess I don't have any choice but to." The situation had kinda called for it, you thought at least. 

"I'm forreal. Do you trust me?" He asked for the second time. There was something different about his voice that said he wasn’t bullshitting. Something in his tone that asserted dominance. A tone that required clarity from you. He was so close to your face that your heartbeat sped up. If it went any faster you would have a heart attack. Determined not to look away from his eyes you held your gaze. Those long eyelashes that you loved in full view this time, up close and personal. You swallowed down your nerves. 

"I trust you, Franklin," had of course been your answer. You would wear this nigga name out, you were almost certain of it. You said it every other sentence, but then, it felt natural leaving your lips. Like it belonged to them.

He smiled and proceeded to move closer to plant a gentle kiss. 

“Good. Now just relax, and let me give you a good experience.” 

Good Experience. Hm. You liked the sound of that. Franklin rose up on his knees. He moved closer to your opening and placed the head of his decorated shaft between your slippery folds. He toppled over ready to push inside. You hissed and sucked in a couple deep breaths through your teeth and shifted, in an effort to get comfortable as your pussy tried to spread wide enough to accommodate his size. 

When he moved a little more you shut your eyes and shook your head. 

“Oh, F-Franklin, I don’t know. I don’t think it's gonna fit, I. It’s too much, Uh, it’s too much…” 

“I can stop,” he mellowed from above, although his face really told a different story than the understanding words that left him. 

When you didn’t say anything, Franklin went to move himself back, taking with him the little bit of inch that his length managed inside you. 

Coming to your senses, you halted his attempt with a grip on his shoulder and wide pleading eyes to follow. “No don't, I want this. I wanna make love to you..” You brought his head down and kissed him. “Just. Keep going. But really slow. I gotta get used to the feeling. It’s super intense.” You frowned and wondered if you could really do it. “Sorry,” you offered meekly.

“It’s okay,” Franklin whispered, leaning in to press his lips on your forehead. “Just relax for me.” 

You could feel his fingers glide over the skin on your thigh. The light vibrations sent a spring of butterflies loose in your stomach. Not at all good for your stomach, but it somehow started to ease up the bent up tension in your body. Even being butt ass naked, him seeing you in all your glory and vice versa, was not enough to bring on the kind of ecstasy that him touching you brought. It’s what you’d wished for, imagined since the first time you’d laid eyes on him. 

“You gotta let up on your muscles. Let your body go loose,” Franklin suggested. He began to move away from your forehead, administering light kisses on your cheek, the place under your lips, just below your chin. “I promise, the pain won’t stay. Just relax baby. Relax…” he soothed as his voice faded. “Trust me.”   

You held on to all the things you felt, closing your eyes to lose yourself in this moment of bliss. “I trust you,” you spoke into the room before you’d pulled in your bottom lip and noticed that familiar rock hard sensation traveling over your folds once again. “I trust you,” you said as it echoed in your mind.  

Franklin said your name, you opened your eyes. “Look at me,” he commanded. 

When your sight moved from the wall and back down to Franklin, you watched his lidded hues as you felt a heavy pressure overtake you slowly but, more and more. Your mouth flew open out of instinct. “Breath…” you heard Franklin say as you watched his mouth. You breathed and more of the same heavy pressure filled you up. You whimpered as you felt him bury inside your pussy inch by inch, but never did you break your gaze until naturally your face nuzzled into his neck. Your teeth grazing the soft flesh where his carotid throbbed. This time it was Franklin's mouth that opened. 

You wondered at that moment what it felt like for him. Judging by his facial expression, the feeling was indescribable, maybe even one of pleasure? For you it hurt. It all hurt like hell. You noted Franklin’s arms, his biceps and the veins that began to make themselves visible. You could tell he was trying with all his power not to hurt you, go as slow and gentle as he possibly could. He moved against you, just barely. 

“You okay.” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Y-Yeah. keep going…”  Your hands clung to Franklin’s shoulders while your eyes leaked salty tears, and he buried himself inside you. He waited, letting you get used to his size. You felt him tear through your hymen with one last push, and with that, he’d taken your virginity. The worst was over. Despite the pain you lifted your hips eager to move past what Franklin promised would only last for a short while. 

Franklin met your lips and began to move. Euphoria overwhelmed you, causing your hips to tilt to succumb fully to him. Mewls of pleasure bellowed out in a moan. Hearing this from him made the butterflies come back. The sound of his voice in such an erotic manner had you wanting to open your legs a little wider. Unable to fight the sudden urge you did just that and Franklin catching on to your invitation began to pump into you. It was uncomfortable, but his added thrust had been guided entirely by your arousal. Finally that bitch had come in handy with her water works! Franklin continued to move in and out, picking up the pace each time he did. The pain began to disappoint as the time carried on, until eventually you no longer felt it. Instead discomfort was now replaced by this new found pleasure, and you wondered in the silent places of your mind how better this might all feel without the condom as Franklin stole the opportunity to kiss you. 

When the kiss broke he started pumping into you with your eyes locked. You cried out into his mouth, but his kiss swallowed up the sound 

“So fuckin’ beautiful…” he mumbled through a staggered breath and over your lips. As you began to rock your hips matching his stride your muscles did something Franklin must've felt. He let out a moan that made him lower his head and close his eyes. A quiet, “Mmmmm,” escaping from deep in his throat. You got a peek of his face and fuck you we're falling in love. 

Franklin was always saying all the right things but something about his moment of vulnerability made you more aroused. Just as he held power, so did you. Your muscles had tightened on that dick like a vice grip, and just like that you’d become the fox instead of the helpless rabbit. 

You remembered something in Chapter five. Something that Juicy had done to Saint to drive him crazy during one of their many hot and sensual love making sessions. 

You flexed your coochie muscles, releasing him only to clench down again while you lifted your head just enough so that your tongue ran over the back of his ear. As you expected, it had an effect. Franklin’s body shook, dare you call it a convulsing shiver ran straight down that nigga’s spine and right away he groaned out this muffled “Fuuuuck,” into a nearby pillow. Proud of yourself you grinned. Whatever pain present in the beginning had long since left you, replaced with greed, for more and more of him. This drunken’ desire you felt deep in your belly. You wondered as he continued to move his lower half while his nuts gained their own constant tap against the skin closest to your ass, if afterward it would make you a constant fiend, wanting it all the time. Hell, your whole body bounced to Franklin’s rhythmic pounding and you held onto your knees extending your neck when his lips desired another taste for your heated and delicate flesh once he’d regained his composure. If he sucked any harder your skin would riddle with hickey’s that would be tough to conceal. But fuck did it feel so damn good to the point you just didn’t care.

Pretty soon he picked up the pace. Every thrust had taken you to a different state of mind. You’d be seeing stars, if not careful. The knocking of the headboard had begun to fill the room with its sound amongst both you and Franklin's heavy breathing and the groans that escaped him and the moans that left you. Each buck of his hips brought you closer to another peak. Your nails slowly softened to gentle, doting fingertips along the puckered flesh as you soothed up and down each side of his spine. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“Y-yeah, it feels good,” you gasped.

Your breast bounced with each smack of skin, your lower lip submitting to a line of pearly whites all at once as you released for him, lower abdomen quivering deliciously while you screamed out his name, head snapping back against the pillow. Your pussy gobbled him up, desperate to milk him for all that he had as you watched Franklin’s features twist into a fit of raw pleasure. 

“I’m c-close.…” he breathed right before you felt his body trembling against yours as his hand pressed on your leg to hold it in place. His dick jumped between your inner walls and you knew even though the condom stopped it, that he came. This deep groan emitted from Franklin, and he collapsed over you riding out his own climax. 

When energies exhausted, the two of you lay connected trying to catch your breath under warm air and the sight of brown skin belonging to you and him doused in sweat to afterglow your love making.   

When Franklin lifted, he did so with great care, pulling his length from between your legs. A glance at the far corner in your room introduced him to the trash can he hadn't been aware of first coming in. He laid his back on the bed and pulled the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the can with hardly any effort. 

You both found the silence comforting. It got so quiet that after some time you turned your head to see if Franklin had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell. Facing the ceiling above you you crossed your fingers and shut your eyes tight. 

“Please.” You whispered into the surrounding air. “Don’t let this be one of my vivid dreams this time. You know, the ones I have that seem real but really aren't. Please let this be real. Send me a sign. Anything for that reassurance that this isn’t one of those times.” 

You screeched out a cry when you felt a pinch. “Awww, damn it what the hell, Franklin!” You frowned and held on to the place on your arm rubbing it to try and drive away the small stink left behind. Goofy ass. Franklin wore a child-like smile under those beautiful lashes of his– 

“What, you said, send you a sign. What’s the sayin’ pinch me so I know it’s real, well there you go.”

You lightly reached over and smacked his arm. “That hurt, you ass!” You moved your hands over to proceed to wrestle trying to produce for him, that same little pinch. He tussled with you, pushing your hand in between laughs.

“Aye, hold up, stop.”

“Hurt!” You cried out again. You poked out your lip and scooted your body away from him.

“Awww,” He taunted. “You mad at me now? Don't be mad.” 

“Not funny,” you said, sticking out your tongue. You pouted and folded your arms, still rubbing the pinch spot. He laughed. Then you laughed, finding in the moment it had become contagious, and damn near impossible not to join him. Once everything went silent, you grinned. 

“I like this playful side of you.” 

“My playful side,” Franklin asked.

“Mmm, hmmm.” You wiggled your shoulders making a comfortable place on the mattress that has you scooting closer to him. “I don't know if you're aware but most of the time you give off this impression that you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders. But I like this side of you much better. It reminds me a lot of that night we danced in the rain. When you finally let loose. You looked so free.” A pause. “That's the way I want you to feel whenever you're with me. Free.” 

When his fingers intertwined with your fingers and he lifted your now connected hands to kiss the top of yours, you turned your head to look at him. He smiled, and so did you. 

…

It must have been some time later when you groggily opened your eyes. The sound of voices and laughter forced you from sleep. You sat up trying to make sense of the surroundings. Your room, you were in your room, and there was, your heart skipped a beat. Franklin laid up next to you, his back fully exposed just below your view. At some point during sleep, he must have turned over. 

So it wasn’t a dream. It really happened. 

Once your smile dissipated, you listened more closely, and realized the sounds were coming from the living room area of the small apartment. A, “Oh hell no, that nigga just threw his jacket on the floor. Where he think he at, un uh…” blurted out knocking against the walls. 

Candy’s voice. 

Your eyes grew large as saucers as you heard high heels coming closer. No time. She opened the door and all you could do was pull the sheet to cover your chest and the rest of Franklin’s naked body. 

“Damnit Candy the hell, do you knock,” you whisper shouted. 

Candy’s lips poked out, her features translating a look of pride as she began to do a little dance in the silhouette of the door. 

“Bitttttttccccccchhhhhhh,” She emphasized. “I know that’s right. I take it y'all settled the whole notebook debacle then?” 

“Candy seriously get!” You turned to grab a pillow and without even realizing you threw it, barely able to hit her. 

She laughed before doing the same  dance while she giddily began to close the door. “My girl done gone and got herself some sex. Welcome to the other side hoe.” 

You shook your head and settled back on your place in the bed beside Franklin. You stared up at the ceiling still able to hear her voice before you felt movement. 

“Candice is funny…”

You automatically placed a hand over your chest after hearing his voice so suddenly. “Oh shoot, you're awake?” You smiled through gritted teeth, although he couldn’t see it. 

“Yeah.” 

Franklin swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. You hadn’t meant to look that hard but Got Damn, he hadn’t left you with much choice in the matter. You sat up once you realized he had begun to grab articles of clothes from the floor.

“Hey. What are you doing? I thought we could, you know, lay here for a while, just cuddle some,” you breathed as a smile spread over your lips. 

Franklin did not halt his gathering. 

“Naw. Gotta go.”

What the fuck, there went your thoughts, running a muck. What the hell did he just say? You pictured your knife, remembering where it was. A glare found you. He wasn’t serious. Couldn’t be. Not after. Not after he damn near crippled you! Your legs still felt like they didn’t belong to your body. “Go?” you said, giving yourself a second to process. 

“Yeah go,” Franklin solidified almost nonchalantly as he turned to face you. “Come on,” he snapped his fingers. “Hussle to it yellow socks. Get that pretty ass up. We go right now, we'll make good time,” he ended with a smirk. 

You tilted your head and slammed your hands down over your legs as you whined.“What!”

“You owe me some hours on the project,” Franklin said. “And while you cute, that pretty face don't get you outta it,” He added. “Still not all the way finished, remember? So we got work ta’ do. All the stuff is at my place. We gonna go there. Take care of that first. Then we'll see about slippin’ in round 2.” He looked you up and down. “The short version is, we up for the rest of the night.” 

That stupid silly ass smile found its way on your face. Couldn't stop it if you tried. 

“Hmm. By the time we done, El Taco’s should be opening up for breakfast.” 

You blinked slowly. It sounded like he’d thought it all out. “We.” You focused on that word specifically moving yourself to the edge of the bed, with the blanket still hiding your bare chest. “In we you mean the two of us, sure but, what do we represent?” 

Talk about not saying shit straight out. You waved your hand between yourself and him. “Like are we...”

Franklin grinned through a half lidded gaze. “What like, are you my woman?” 

You swore that there would never be enough butterflies. If you knew where they came from you would plug up the source quick, fast and in a hurry. 

“Well, yeah like that.”

A small chuckle. “All that dick I just gave you wasn't an obvious giveaway?” 

You rolled your eyes. Damn smart ass. There was this cockyness about him that made it hard to take him seriously. He already knew he had you. He stood there so smug and certain. But Fine, oh so fine. 

“Yeah, maybe?” You mellowed out.  But I kinda wanna hear you say it. It's what I need. Said out loud.”

“Okay. You're my lady.” 

He grabbed your hand and made a gentle pull so that you were off the bed and standing in front of him. He took the sheet you covered yourself with and tossed it. There you both were butt ass naked in the way of the L.A moonlight standing face to face. Your eyes traveled. The top tear of your teeth pressed down onto your lip. Yeah, you were right. Seeing was believing. 

Franklin casually slipped fingers over your swollen slit. It almost brought you down. Everything on your body was so damn sensitive. Good thing he was right there. He caught you. You closed your eyes letting out a labored gasp.

 “This belongs to me. Got Franklin Saint written all over it. I took it. Claimed you in the process.”

He lifted your chin, so you had nowhere to look but to his eyes.

“That answer your question, Miss Juicy?”

You nodded, drunk. “Uh huh, Saint.” 

That nigga coulda told you to help him rob a corner store for two packs of gummy bears and you’d probably do that shit, you were so entranced. 

“Good.” Franklin leaned to press a light kiss on your forehead. “Now. Come on. Get dressed. Let's go.” 

At least this time, reality had deemed far better than any story you could write. Still curious, you’d be sure to remember to ask him just what was in that backpack.

…………………………………….Continue? Nah, that’s it.

Taglist: @fairy-cores-world  @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr @slippinninque

A/N: Thank you to every reader that left their love and support for my work. I’m so glad to have come to the finished conclusion for Write Me To Pieces. It’s been a journey and to keep it a buck, the comments have helped me push through to the finish line. Hope you all enjoyed the experience. Realistically, it will probably read quicker than it took to write. Peace out ✌🏾

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful.

[therunawaykind]

don't wanna break up again

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: Pinch of angst? fluff

Warnings: None unless you hate the names Leigh & Danny in the same sentence quite a bit

A/N: Long time no see! (again) writer's block and just simply getting the inspiration and motivation to write have been fucking dreadful these last few months. I dunno what was going on. Hopefully, all things going well this is my slow return to posting regularly again on here. If not then whoops you'll see me again at some stage. Who would've thought Leigh Shaw and Ariana Granda was gonna be my breakthrough for writing stuff not me that's for sure. This is my very loose interpretation of Ariana Grande's 'don't wanna break up again' I saw someone say it was very Leigh x Danny coded then this transpired. I hope I have done this some justice I imagine my writing abilities are a bit rusty so bear with me and I hope you all enjoy!

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*Please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

If there was one thing Leigh was certain of since Matt’s death it was how complicated and difficult her life had become, ranging from devastating revelations to do with Matt and his teacher co-worker Nina, living with a Jules who is now a recovering sober alcoholic, dealing with her mother Amy with her previous breakdown she had where she moved to Alaska which subsequently led to her breakthrough of wanting to travel and basically just live somewhere else that wasn’t in Los Angeles, that wasn’t home.

In addition to that after Leigh’s breakdown after choosing to leave with Jules to go to Vietnam, she ultimately decided just to stay living in their family home whilst both Jules and her mother left for however long they decided. Leigh also decided to take over Beautiful Beast for Jules until she was ready to come back…if she ever did but nonetheless she couldn’t let all of Jules’ hard work go to waste. And last but not least the absolute travesty that of her and Danny whatever that thing is, it’s complicated, messy and above all else unhealthy all over for the both of them. Not to delve too much into the ups and downs of their….thing the latest situation ended up with Danny punching a hole in the wall of Leigh’s home, to sum it up in a simple phrase “People don’t slam their fists through walls when things are going well.”

The one positive and healthy yet still slightly complicated thing in Leigh’s life which happened unexpectedly was well… Y/N. Granted one of the only aspects that made it complicated was the fact you were her “student”, you both met due to you attending Leigh’s classes at Beautiful Beast, the friendship, and conversations which ended up evolving into more flirtatious conversations did just happen out of nowhere unexpectedly. The downfall of the whole friendship between you both was when Danny surprised Leigh at the entrance of Beautiful Beast one night to take her home…then you caught Danny kissing her which again took Leigh by surprise. That night and predicament in question had truly shocked Leigh because from what she knew and understood during that time, it was during one of her and Danny’s off moments, their pause a break essentially.

But in good Leigh fashion the second she saw Danny she started overthinking and thought she interpreted something wrong or missed a certain something, whilst simultaneously thinking this was Danny offering an olive branch and showing her they really can make this work, they can be good and healthy for each other….how wrong she was. So understandably from then on you started to distance yourself and pull away from Leigh after that by not talking, hanging out or texting as much. Unbeknownst to Leigh any hope you had of having some sort of relationship with her plummeted very quickly after that. 

Leigh knew whatever they had going on wasn’t good for either of them and would never last, it was a cycle they couldn’t break….well she couldn’t break. It was a lifeline for them both, the last small bit of connection they both had to Matt in some way. On one hand, Leigh had this negative and toxic relationship that she couldn’t leave, she couldn’t escape it. Somehow it always kept dragging her back in no matter how many times night and day it had her distraught, crying and attempting to soothe herself. On the other hand, Leigh had this seemingly hopeful, positive and healthy relationship she could have with you.

But before she even tried to give that relationship a chance she had to try to get out of this fucking cycle she couldn’t seem to get out of and no matter how hard she tried. Whenever she asked Jules for advice on the relationship, much to nobody's surprise always went something like this. 

“Leigh you need to end this thing with Danny and go no contact with him at least for some time, this is not healthy for either of you. I mean come on Leigh he punched a hole in the wall at our house. Let me remind you when I was living with you Leigh after mom left, just how many times I’d hear quiet sobs from your room, you talking to yourself to make yourself feel better and reassure yourself everything was going to be okay, that everything was gonna be fine. And I couldn’t get in because 1. You’d lock the door, 2. You wouldn’t respond when I asked if you were okay and lastly, when you did,  you’d just say you were fine, you were okay. Once one of you starts to feel happier and healthier the other drags the other one down simply just by being around.

I know you don’t want to go through another break-up or heartbreak….but you’re doing it to yourself constantly by staying in this with Danny or maybe…. You keep going back to this thing with Danny because you don’t want to hurt him and his heart completely. And if you do fully disappear from his life because to him you're his last link to Matt and right now you know full well you are leading him on and have him believing you two can have some semblance of a future together no matter how complicated it may be. I know this is a weird way to word it but… I think you know Matt wouldn’t want or like Danny to be experiencing this level of hurt and anguish as much as he is, not even specifically with you just with anyone.

But let’s not forget just how much you did hurt Danny initially when he was staying away from you and you wouldn’t let it happen. You forced your way into his life because you needed him to love you. Who knows maybe some ways down the line in the future when you’re both fully healed or at least somewhat…you two can be friends and have that last link to Matt. But also do remember that doesn’t mean you have to stop contact with Matt’s mother…. You can still have a link to him in some shape and form.”

That’s what she’d deal with, she knew and understood completely what Jules was saying yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it….unfortunately. She wishes Danny would end up being the person to end it but the chances of that happening are slim to none. But with the possibilities that awaited her on the other side of things…she knew what she had to do, end things with Danny then she had to get the friendship with Y/N back to what it was, and she had to show you that you weren't going to be just some rebound, that she saw a future with this relationship she saw it going the distance. 

When she thought about the aspects of the relationship she had with Y/N the only way Leigh could describe how she felt…was how she felt when she was with Matt. With you, it finally felt like Leigh had gotten the best and good part of herself back that as Leigh put it Matt had taken with him when he died. It felt like she could finally breathe again and live her life to the fullest. Fortunately for Leigh yet quite sadly when the friendship between you both was at its best Matt left her alone, and Leigh’s recurring what she would consider nightmares of Matt and Nina living out the life she lived with him finally stopped.

Now all she had to do was start the process and uncomplicate her life which starts with talking to Danny.

As Leigh anxiously approaches the door to the apartment she knows so well, she nervously wrings out her hands and fingers. She had texted Danny the night before asking him if would it be okay for her to visit in the morning to talk to him, as Danny eagerly agreed to her calling over she realised at that very moment he was expecting a very different conversation. She hesitantly starts knocking on the door muttering to herself “You can do this, you can do this. You have to do this for yourself, Danny and everyone else in your life but most importantly you and Danny.” After a few seconds, shuffling could be heard behind the door as Leigh took a deep breath in, in an attempt to calm herself down and get all of her feelings under control.

Once the door opened a weak nervous smile spread across her face, Leigh quickly scans Danny trying to figure out how he really is, as she sees him start to step out and lean in to give her a quick kiss but before anything of the sort can happen Leigh quickly steps in and gives him a quick hug as she states “so is it alright for me to come in?” as she smiles quickly at him. Danny’s face scrunches up in confusion as Leigh quickly pats his stomach as she steps past him into his apartment, he lets out an exasperated sigh and throws his head back slightly and he turns around to walk into his apartment closing the door behind him. 

When Danny finally turns to face Leigh he can’t help but notice her looking around his apartment and the constant nervous fidgeting with her fingers, her hair and her neck. He sighs to himself “Alright Leigh what is this about you said you wanted to talk.” 

Leigh jumps slightly as she spins around to face him “ I- well- yeah you’re right I did, I did.” rubbing her now sweaty palms off of the side of her jeans and slowly sits herself down on Danny's sofa. Taking a deep breath in and bringing her hands up to her mouth “I- I can imagine from the way I’m acting and just how difficult it is for me to start this conversation and say what I actually want to….that you already know what this conversation is about and where it’s heading.” Hearing a quiet sigh beside her Leigh glances quickly out the side of her eye seeing Danny leaning forward slightly with his head down and forearms leaning on his knees. “But Danny this thing has to be stopped, I- we’re both hurting each other continuously whether we realise it or not. I mean need I remind ourselves of the punching a hole in the wall situation.”

That got a small chuckle out of Danny as he shook his head slightly clicking his tongue. “And I mean it wasn’t just you Danny, I forced you to be around me when you didn’t want to, in our own little ways, we were selfish when it came to this situation. Now I know I stated and promised you before that I would never have a life that didn’t have you in it…but whilst we’re both still healing and dealing with our grief that obviously still hasn’t gone anywhere. We do really need to not be in each other's lives anymore, no contact, no talking in any shape or form no stupid lil emoji texts anymore.” 

Biting his lip and sitting back Danny exclaims “But Leigh that’s EXACTLY what you’re doing, you’re leaving, you’re having a life without me! You obviously think and believe you don’t need me!” 

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU, I’M NOT HAVING A LIFE WITHOUT YOU”

“LEIGH THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE DOING CAN YOU NOT HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING” 

“DANNY!” scoffing to herself and shaking her head as she calmly states ”See this, this here exactly happening right now is why we need to take a step back from each other. We can’t even have a normal conversation without blowing up and ending up yelling at each other. The only time we aren’t killing each other is when we’re having sex and- and even then since we had that conversation in that casino resort we both know Matt is still weirdly on our minds during that. I- I think no matter how much we try or maybe want some sort of actual loving relationship with each other…it’ll never work. The only thing we ever can be to each other is friends.” Leigh shakes her head and licks her lips slightly “Just a friendship. Because we are hurting each other and ourselves from the inside out. We have to heal by ourselves, without the other in our lives and move on. And hopefully at some stage down the line whenever we’re both happy and healthy we can get back in contact with the other.”

Leigh smirks as she sways from side to side “Cause I can’t lie Danny I think we’d be pretty kick-ass friends together don’t ya think.” She grins as she nudges Danny with her shoulder, clearing his throat and nodding “Yeah- yeah I think we would be. And I can’t lie I get what you’re saying I understand hell I see it completely. It- it is just a difficult thing to let go of even if it is just for a little bit.” 

Biting her lip and rubbing Danny’s arm “I get it, Danny I do believe me but you still have your mom. You both can get through this together because it was just as difficult for her to… You are all she has left. And I’ll- I'm staying in contact with her or at this stage more like getting in contact with her more considering she still is my mother-in-law or ex-mother-in-law anyways specifics isn’t the important thing here.” 

Danny laughs slightly and nods “Yeah, yeah she’d like that.” Both sit back against the sofa in silence basking in the reality of what now has to be undertaken the reality of it hitting them simultaneously. Rubbing her hands anxiously up and down her legs as she slowly drags out “rigghtt I guess- I guess I better go now and leave us both to our journey of healing, growth whatever you wanna call it.” Leigh laughs as she mumbles to herself “god I sound like my mother” She walks to the door with Danny right behind her as Leigh opens the door she turns around and smiles at Danny as they both embrace each other in a hug for the last time till…who knows how long. Both pulling away slowly and giving each other a subtle nod as Leigh steps out through the door as it closes behind her softly. Leigh takes a deep breath in, the grin spreading across her face going unnoticed by her as she starts to descend the steps of the apartment building.

Leigh was never nervous or anxious when it came to teaching her exercise classes though apparently today was the exception, as she anticipated your arrival. Leigh smiles moving back and forth on her feet as she greets all of the students walking in through the door to her class, anxiously waiting to get a glimpse of your bag, shoes or something as you come through the front door. Considering since you distanced yourself from her she’s noticed you haven’t attended classes all that regularly. Leigh’s eyebrows raise in anticipation as she sees the front doors open happily letting out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding as she saw a glimpse of your bag and shoes come into view. Giddily she lets a grin spread across her face and she nervously picks at her nails seeing you approach the entrance “Hey Y/N it’s nice to see you again, I’m glad you decided to attend and come today.” 

Taken aback by Leigh's greeting and striking up a proper conversation with you after so long did genuinely take you by surprise but couldn’t stop the smile on your face “Hey Leigh, yeah I can’t lie I missed attending these classes I’m sure I’ll get back on track from now on.” Both smiling at each other as you walk past her into the class much to Leigh’s amazement you turn around and say to her “Leigh if I can just say you look great...you just look happy and healthy. Whatever you’ve done or are doing keep it up it suits you.” With her mouth wide open Leigh messily nods and stutters out “I- I will- I-  Thank you very much, I will be sure to keep it up.” Leigh turns around to the door to hide and mutters to herself “Idiot”.

Much to her relief though the class was a success and she didn’t stumble or trip over any more of her words whenever she got closer to you throughout her class as she moved around the room. After the class finished Leigh quickly grabbed her towel off the floor wiping the sweat off of her as she said goodbye to everyone, in her peripheral vision she could see you deliberately taking your sweet ass time packing away all of your stuff. Biting her lip she attempted to suppress the smile taking over her face. 

As she said goodbye to one of the last students she sauntered across the room towards you as she started fiddling with the towel around her neck. “Sooo Y/N” you glanced up at her as you were putting on your shoes “What's up Leigh?” 

She smiles at you abashedly as she scratches her head “I just wanna say sorry and give you a quick apology for anything I said or did that created that distance and made us pull away from each other. Because- because for that length of time, I really did miss seeing you and your face around here but I’m glad to see you back now.” Nervously scratching the back of your neck “Yeah umm I just-” shaking your head slightly as you let out a breath “I just had some stuff I had to figure out and work on to clear my head a bit and- unfortunately, sadly to do that I kinda had to step away and distance myself from you and well all things relating to you. But I- I think I’ve figured it all out now.” 

You can’t help but notice the hopeful glint in Leigh’s eyes and smile “Oh really? A positive figure it out I hope?” 

Grinning and nodding confidently “Yeah- yeah it does seem that way.” Both of you stare at each other smiling to your heart's content as both of your eyes scan the other person. You clear your throat as you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks and glance around the room “Anyways I should probably head off and leave you to clean up the place or whatever it is you have left to do around here.”  Leigh absentmindedly nods her head but ultimately starts panicking as you pick up your bag and wave goodbye to her, she quickly sprints after you saying between breaths “Or or- or albeit this isn’t a very nice offer for you to ask-” you raise your eyebrow at her “What is it, Leigh?”

“Um, do you wanna hang out here with me and help me out around here if you aren’t busy? I just- I’ve just missed hanging out and talking with you and thought this might be a nice way for us to catch up.”

“Y’know you are right it isn’t the nicest or most glamorous offer I’ve ever heard but I have missed talking to you Leigh so I’ll stick around and help my favourite fitness instructor out.” 

Leigh whips her head around to face you and stumbles slightly as she starts moving the spare barres placed around the room “Wha- what do you mean favourite fitness instructor? I’m your only fitness instructor.” Smirking over at Leigh as you roll up the extra yoga mats “That you know of, could’ve tried out other places whilst I was MIA” 

“HEY!” Leigh exclaims as she throws a cloth at you 

Laughing at her reaction as you catch the cloth “I’m messing, I’m messing you would be correct, you are the only fitness instructor I know and one that I go to.” You hear a quiet yet stern “good” in response as she goes back to cleaning, laughing and shaking your head in the process.

Since then you and Leigh have practically been inseparable, it was as if nothing had ever happened. She had explained to you fully what went and was going on with her and Danny currently..more like what wasn’t going on. Even though you had said to her repeatedly she didn’t have to that it was none of your business. But you reassured her it was for the better, she made the right decision, she’s doing better because of it and you could only hope the same for Danny. Leigh now had you over at her house….for what she told you would be a quiet night in with both of your favourite takeout foods and as many movies and TV shows as you both could handle.

Which now that you were here was not the case at all. Leigh had gotten the bright idea, the brainwave or as she put it a breakthrough. She felt that the whole house needed to be redecorated and refurnished as it reminded her of sad, difficult and complicated times and she couldn’t stand being reminded of those moments any longer. So who were you to say no to helping her out yet again. As you were sat on the floor dismantling all of the old furniture with Leigh, you saw her peak her head out from the other side “Again I’m sorry about this, it seems like none of my hangouts recently are that exciting and it involves you always having to work.” You laugh and shake your head “Leigh honestly it’s okay I really don’t care what I do as long as it’s with you. But hey it’ll be a nice bonding time for both of us, be a little glimpse of what it’s like if we were to ever live with each other I guess.” You scratch your head and hurriedly get back to dismantling the furniture as you realise what you said. “Did you just say living together?” 

“Psshhh me say that? No never? Must’ve heard things, Leigh.” 

“Mhmm okay sure.” What you didn’t notice was Leigh moving over to you slowly on her knees but jumping slightly as you felt her place her arms on your shoulders in an attempt to get you to raise your head to look at her. Glancing up at her you see the silly little smile on her face “I may not be ready for that yet but I’d like to think we’d end up living together at some stage in the future.” 

Staring at her wide-eyed “R-really?” Leigh grins and nods her head as she whispers against your lips “Really.” Grinning at each other as you both lean in to place kisses on each other's lips which quickly turn into little pecks as Leigh slaps your thigh “Alright let’s get back to work this house isn’t gonna refurnish and redecorate itself. And this furniture certainly won’t dismantle itself.” 

Chuckling to yourself you playfully salute towards Leigh “Aye, aye captain.” 

[themenendezbrothers]

The difference between the Habeas Corpus and the resentencing.

Habeas corpus (/ˈheɪbiəs ˈkɔːrpəs/ⓘ; from Medieval Latin, lit. 'you should have the body')[1] is an equitable remedy[2] by which a report can be made to a court alleging the unlawful detention or imprisonment of an individual, and requesting that the court order the individual's custodian (usually a prison official) to bring the prisoner to court, to determine whether their detention is lawful.

The Habeas has to do with the trial. The resentencing with their sentence.

From the Habeas Corpus (excerpt)

PETITION FOR WRIT OF HABEAS CORPUS Jurisdictional Allegations

Petitioners Erik and Lyle Menendez file this Petition for Writ of Habeas Corpus.

By this verified petition petitioners allege as follows: Petitioners are unlawfully confined by the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation pursuant to a judgment of the Los Angeles County Superior Court in People v. Menendez, No. BA068880.

The resentencing:

Penal Code § 1172.1 provides the mechanism for resentencing in cases where the original sentence is no longer in the interest of justice or was disproportionately harsh. It empowers the court to recall a sentence and resentence an inmate if it finds that the original sentencing was excessive.

District Attorney Gascon:

What legal pathways could lead to the Menendez brothers’ release?

Last year, the brothers filed a habeas petition in court to overturn their convictions based on the discovery of new evidence. This year, the brothers’ defense attorneys sent our office a request to resentence the brothers. While the habeas petition raises questions about the evidence at trial, the resentencing request focuses on rehabilitation and behavior during time served.

In both the habeas petition and resentencing tracks, the DA makes recommendations, and the court makes the final decision. If the court declines the DA’s resentencing recommendation for any reason, the habeas petition remains an option.

What is the District Attorney’s resentencing policy?

DA Gascón is committed to reviewing the sentences of incarcerated people to determine if they are no longer appropriate under current law and/or office policy. When considering reviewing a case for possible resentencing, our office weighs a number of factors, including:

The age of the person at the time of the crime, as scientific evidence shows that the juvenile brain is not fully formed to understand risk;

Any pre-conviction psychological trauma or physical abuse that contributed to the commission of the offense, if it was not taken into consideration at the original sentencing;

Whether the individual has already served a significant amount of time in prison sufficient to hold the individual accountable for their crime;

Evidence of rehabilitation in prison, such as mentoring other prisoners, attending college classes, taking accountability for their actions, participating in community organizations, as well as testimony from prison staff and community members;

The individual’s detailed and actionable plans to positively contribute to society following release;

Evidence that reflects whether age, time already served, or diminished physical condition, if any, have reduced the risk for future violence;

Evidence that laws and policies have changed such that continued incarceration is no longer in the interest of justice.

Excerpt from the Habeas Corpus

The theory of defense at both trials was straightforward. Neither Erik nor Lyle denied the shooting. Instead, the crime was manslaughter, not murder. The killings occurred in imperfect self-defense, after a lifetime of physical and sexual abuse from theirparents. The sexual abuse began when the brothers were just children and, along with the sexual abuse, there were death threats should the abuse ever be disclosed. Thus in determining if this was an imperfect self-defense case of manslaughter, or a case of premeditated murder, jurors had one critical factual question to decide: were Erik and Lyle victims of sexual abuse?

The state’s theory in both trials was also straightforward. Erik and Lyle were lying about the sexual abuse. It never happened. They had killed their parents not in imperfect self-defense, but to inherit their parents’ money. Although the theories were the same in both trials, the evidence at the two trials was very different. At the first trial, for example, Lyle’s older cousin, Diane Vandermolen, testified that when she was 16, she stayed at the Menendez home for the summer. One night when Lyle was only eight years old, he came into her room and asked if he could sleep in her room; he was scared to sleep in his own room because Jose Menendez was touching Lyle's genitals and forcing Lyle to touch his (Jose’s) genitals as well. (RT 11797.) Diane told Kitty, who angrily dragged Lyle upstairs by his arm. (RT11798-11799.) Erik and Lyle’s cousin, Andy Cano, testified that when Erik was only 13 years old, he (Erik) swore Andy to secrecy, told him that Jose Menendez was massaging his genitals, and asked if Andy’s father did the same.

(https://www.courttv.com/title/ 68-ca-v-menendez-witness-testimony/ at 2:25:11 - 2:28:04, last accessed 2/1/23). 1 Similarly, jurors heard from family members, close friends, and a variety of coaches and teachers, who described numerous incidents of physical and mental abuse they saw the brothers suffer at the hands of their parents, ranging from physical assaults on the boys to public humiliation and mocking. And jurors heard about a chilling rule in the Menendez home: when Jose Menendez was in the bedroom with one of the boys, no one was allowed to walk down the hallway past the bedrooms.

(https://www.courttv.com/title /32-ca-v-menendez-kathleen-simonton/ at 1:27:06 - 1:27:28 [Jose Menendez’s niece Kathy Simonton].)

While it is fair to say that the prosecutors at the first trial remained skeptical of the defendants’ claims of sexual abuse, in light of the evidence actually introduced as to sexual and physical abuse, they hedged their bets. “[I]f you believe in the sexual abuse that happened, that does not mean the defendants are not guilty of murder, because they are two separate things.”

(https://www.courttv.com/title/109-ca-v-menendez-lylemenendez-prosecution-closing-arguments/ at 1:35:06-1:35-45.)

“We do not execute child molesters in California . . . . And these defendants cannot execute them either.” (Id. at 1:37:50-1:38:19.) “Vigilantism is something we cannot tolerate because then what happens? What if you decide your neighbor is a child molester and you go kill your neighbor?” (Id. at 1:39:09.)

Although defendants were tried together at the first trial, they had separate juries. After lengthy deliberations, the jurors in Lyle Menendez’s case were hung 6-6 between murder and manslaughter for each of the two murder charges. The jurors in Erik Menendez’s case were hung 6-6 between murder and manslaughter as to one of the murder counts, and 8-4 between murder and manslaughter as to the second count. The state elected to retry the case.

As noted, the second trial began in October 1995. At this trial, much of the defense evidence, including Diane Vandermolen’s testimony, was excluded. So the prosecutor’s emphasis changed as well. Based on the evidence presented at the second trial, there was no longer any need to hedge bets; the prosecutor told jurors that the sexual “abuse [allegations] in this case [were] a total fabrication.” (RT 50869.) There was “no way of corroborating” these allegations. (RT 50868.) “The abuse never happened.” (RT 51088.) “There is no corroboration of sexual abuse.” (RT 51378.) The “allegation[s] of physical and sexual abuse are not corroborated.” (RT 51469.) Jose Menendez was not the “kind of man that would be abusing his sons.” (RT 50991.) He was “restrained and forgiving. [He was] not a violent and brutal man.” (RT 51472.) Both petitioners were convicted of first degree murder.

But now new evidence has surfaced in two areas. First, Jose Menendez’s younger sister, Marta Cano, discovered a letter her son Andy received from Erik approximately eight months before the August 1989 shooting. As noted above, Andy had testified that Erik told him about the molestation when he (Erik) was 13 years old. (RT 48140.) In his closing argument at the second trial, the prosecutor told jurors in no uncertain terms that Andy was lying. (302 RT 51481-51485, 51487.)

But there is more. As the above quotes from the prosecutor’s closing make clear, the state’s theory was that Jose Menendez was simply “not the kind of man” who would abuse children. He was “not a violent and brutal man,” but “restrained and forgiving.” What we now know, however, is that -- in fact -- Jose Menendez did abuse children. Jose Menendez was a high executive at RCA in the 1980s. During that time RCA signed Menudo, a Latin boy band. Roy Rossello, who joined the band as a 13 year-old in 1983 has recently come forward to admit that he was anally raped twice, and orally copulated, by Jose Menendez when Roy was only 13 or 14 years old. (See Declaration of Roy Rossello (“Rossello Declaration”), attached as Exhibit F.) In short the new evidence not only shows that Jose Menendez was very much a violent and brutal man who would sexually abuse children, but it strongly suggests that -- in fact -- he was still abusing Erik Menendez as late as December 1988. Just as the defense had argued all along.

The Clemency:

The Governor can grant the clemency at any time. The Governor has delayed making any decision until the new District Attorney reviews the case.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Shruti Rajkumar at HuffPost:

Several universities across the country are withholding, or threatening to withhold, the diplomas of seniors who engaged in pro-Palestine demonstrations on their campuses amid a national student mobilization in recent months. After Hamas’ deadly attack on Israel on Oct. 7, the Israeli military launched a massive offensive in Gaza, which has so far has killed more than 35,000 and sparked a famine in the region. In response, students formed encampments and held demonstrations to demand that their colleges publicly denounce Israel’s attacks on Gaza as a genocide, increase transparency about their Israeli ties and divest from companies in business with Israel. Many pro-Palestine demonstrations have been peaceful. But hundreds of students at universities across the country have been arrested for their involvement, and some are facing hearings for alleged disciplinary violations. Now, multiple colleges are saying that diplomas will be held until these investigations are completed.

On Friday, administrators at the University of California, Los Angeles threatened to discipline and withhold the diplomas of at least 55 students who were involved in pro-Palestine demonstrations. In letters sent on Friday, administrators accused the students of violating the student code of conduct, alleging that they failed to respond to police’s orders to disperse at the May 2 encampment and engaged in “disorderly behavior,” “disturbing the peace” and “failure to comply,” according to the Guardian and UCLA’s student newspaper, The Daily Bruin. The letters say students must attend hearings to discuss the their protest involvement and will not be allowed to receive their degrees until they’ve done so, the Guardian reported. Students who don’t schedule their meeting or who miss it will not be able to register for classes next semester or, if they’re seniors, graduate.

[...] Several U.S. schools, including the ones that are holding student protesters diplomas, have statements on their websites expressing that free speech and expression is valued on their campuses, so long as it isn’t disruptive and doesn’t violate school policies.

It’s shameful that some universities are choosing to aid and abet pro-Israel Apartheid donors by withholding diplomas from pro-Palestine student protesters who protested against the Gaza Genocide on campuses (of which were mostly peaceful).

[optimuslearningschool]

Learn coding from scratch, starting with Python and circuits. Advance to C++ or Java, master databases, and app design. Gained hands-on skills in software, hardware, and efficient programming.

For more:- After School program In Fullerton

[mariacallous]

One might assume, with good reason, that a romantic recession is underway.

That’s the story the numbers tell, at least. Forty-seven percent of US adults say dating is more difficult today than it was a decade ago, according to a Pew Research Center analysis. Even as singledom is on a downward slope—in 2023, 42 percent of adults were unpartnered compared to 44 percent in 2019, a different Pew survey found—it doesn’t feel that way.

The dating landscape is in the throes of another tectonic shift. People still crave love but are increasingly distrustful of apps that have failed to deliver on the promise of partnership, burned out by the gamification of romance. App fatigue is at an all-time high, and a growing segment of young daters no longer want to leave the future of their love life to chance. That, more than anything, has changed where people look for love these days: offline, in curated spaces.

“Dating apps aren’t the enemy,” says Stephanie Scheele, cofounder of Singles Only Social Club. “However, more and more people are craving real-life connections, and while we aren’t the only in-person singles event, we feel that we are at the forefront of this movement.”

Scheele, along with her business partner Mackenzie Zoppi, launched Singles Only Social Club in 2023 as an analog alternative to dating apps. The idea started as a spontaneous park hang. They gathered friends—“plus friends of friends who were roped in last-minute”—for a casual happy hour in a Santa Monica–area park. It has since expanded to more formal settings in Los Angeles and New York. Last year, the platform hosted 40 events between the two cities; their largest one maxed out at more than 300 attendees. The draw, Scheele believes, is like-minded folks of similar ages and interests—the IRL mixers bring together professionals and creatives ranging in age from 25 to 45, on average. Zoppi describes the vibe as “natural, pressure-free, and actually enjoyable.”

Where so much of the AI revolution aims to remove the human element from how people communicate and connect, a handful of matchmaking platforms have found success via a human-centric approach. In-person dating and singles events increased by 51 percent in 2024, with attendance to those events improving by 71 percent, according to Eventbrite data shared with WIRED. A new class of daters have decided that they no longer want to leave the fate of their romantic life to the calculations of an algorithm.

David Moss wants to capitalize on that growing shift. Moss is cofounder and CEO of My TruBond, a “white-glove dating service” that aims to curb loneliness through in-person mixers. The platform launched in Houston this year. Like Singles Only Social Club, My TruBond leverages a curated group model as a form of matchmaking. “You are better off going to Vegas and playing craps—and winning—than you are finding significant love on a dating app,” Moss says of the current landscape, telling me that he believes dating app companies aren’t actually invested in human outcomes, only profit. “And it’s not hard. We have cracked that code.”

Unlike Singles Only Social Club, however, My TruBond is also an app (it’s free to sign up). Moss, whose background is in IT management, says that the app is primarily designed for people to meet offline. There are no robust texting features, and the dating radius only allows users to search up to 100 miles. Users are required to pass a background check before being verified (submitted profile data is cross-referenced with a national criminal database), and later take a personality assessment test to help determine prospective matches. First dates confirmed through the app, he says, happen over video call.

For years, Big Dating got singles hooked on the booze of convenience culture. Apps were like junk food—fast, easy, but ultimately unhealthy when used for long periods of time, causing problems like depression, anxiety, and body-image issues. The next frontier of dating, it seems, is a return to the old ways of courtship that require a lot more intentionality and investment. “What we are building is an experience—the journey of getting you to a second date,” Moss says.

Talk of app fatigue is trendy but it overlooks the root problem, says Brie Temple, who holds the position of “chief matchmaker” at Tawkify. She believes the real issues around dating run deeper. “We now have a whole generation of eligible singles who have been introduced to romantic partners through a screen. A lot of wasted time, energy, and emotion gets invested into that process—all of that leads to burnout,” she says. “We talk about instant gratification; it’s the age of convenience. But you can’t DoorDash a partner into your life. Through matchmaking we do things like remind people how to flirt and have a connection.”

Tawkify is a veteran player in the evolving matchmaking market. Launched over a decade ago, the company bills itself as an antidote to the chaos of dating apps. It is one of the many platforms that wants to remove some of the risk factors of finding love online through personalized, one-on-one matchmaking. Through the service, singles are assigned an expert (human) matchmaker who does everything on your behalf, from prescreening to date planning.

Tawkify offers two pathways to love. In the first option, prospects sign up for a lifetime membership ($9.99) and their profile is uploaded into the database in hopes that it will eventually get paired with that of another single. In option two, daters select from “client packages”—you pick from three, six, or 12 matches, ranging from $4,900 to $15,000—and are paired with expert matchmakers tasked with all sorts of detective work. They do background checks and compatibility testing.

When I asked Temple how many people were currently taking advantage of the company’s signature services, she declined to comment. “I can’t say, but at any given time we have hundreds of active clients.” Even though Tawkify claims to have the largest private database of singles outside of dating apps, Temple declined to share the extent of that database beyond saying it was “in the seven-figure range.”

And while that considerable sample size is a boon for many singles thirsty for connection—who doesn’t love options?—not everyone is a believer in Tawkify’s pay-to-date model. Last year, in a 2,000-word-long post on Reddit, a former client who lives in Philadelphia and forked over $10,000 detailed his experience. “Tawkify was a huge waste of money,” he wrote, “because it can’t control for the worst part of dating—the ghosting and flaking of daters.”

Nia Freeman, a 32-year-old entrepreneur in Los Angeles, shares the same frustrations. “I deleted every single dating app that I have,” she says. “It’s a big pool, yes, but it’s the bottom of the barrel.” Freeman says conversations rarely materialized off the apps. She refuses to waste her time on them anymore. “Removing the energy part of the entire process—it’s a big factor,” she says. “You know how you feel with someone when you are around them. You can’t get that through DMs.”

This month’s Singles Only Social Club meetup in Los Angeles will be Freeman’s first. “And yeah, this could also be a gimmick just to get us to buy tickets,” she says of the event, which charges $15 to attend. “But if everybody comes with the right intention, it works. We’re all single, we all want to be in lasting relationships. We are not there to bullshit.” She flashes a smirk. “Well, maybe a little.”

[jaycrr]

Blog Post Due 9/19

What is intersectionality and what is the result of multiple forms of inequality 

Intersectionality is referred to as a “prism”, it is not a thinking theory and it's a way to understand problems in the world. Forms of inequality create problems such as race and gender, these disadvantages create challenges that most people would not  understand because they are not “conventional ways” of thinking and living. In the video by Dr Kimberly Crenshaw it is mentioned that intersectionality takes part in schools, racial and gender stereotypes against students, even faculty. Independent schools have to allow equal opportunity to all of their students no matter where the community they come from, social class etc. 

What is the importance of a name, does it have any other meaning in society?

Just like we were talking about in class this week, names are social codes and we use names to make racialized, gendered, assumptions about people.Names such as Moses or Malcolm X are integrated with meanings through history and hardship, They were not previous names. Another piece of information is that in an old study, people trying to find jobs with white sounding names received 50% more of a chance to be contacted back then people with black sounding names. Something found by a psychologist was that an algorithm associated these white sounding names with words that are more pleasant than black sounding names will get matched up with 

What does the new Jim code refer to? 

Using new technology to reflect existing immoralities that are perceived as more objective than previous discriminatory systems.  Normal names have the ability to trigger stories that tell what kind of person they are, either talking about their personality, how far they can go and where they come from. The new Jim Code has a range of “discriminatory practices” such as the ignorance of social divisions and another example would be to fix racial bias but usually leads to the doing of the opposite.

What is the CaiGang database and how is it implemented? 

In Los Angeles the youth and communities are filled with gang databases and even injunctions. Tracked and Trapped is a research project that focuses on these impacts, Since it's been 25 years since the LA County Sheriffs established a gang database there has never been any release of data to the public regarding gang policies and suppression. Gang Junctions targets a group of people, works kind of like a restraining order and it allows officers safe zones based on geography around the city that determines the people they can arrest even for non criminal activity. Just as we mentioned in class, In Los Angeles County specifically they have a computerized database for alleged gang members known as gang reporting, evaluation and tracking system and it allows officers to store collect and analyze any information.

Crenshaw, K. (2016). The urgency of intersectionality | Kimberlé Crenshaw | TED. YouTube. https://youtu.be/akOe5-UsQ2o?feature=shared

Crenshaw, K. (2018). Kimberlé Crenshaw: What is Intersectionality?. YouTube. https://youtu.be/ViDtnfQ9FHc?feature=shared

Benjamin, R (2019). Race After Technology

Muniza, Ana & Kim McGill. (2012). Tracked and Trapped: Youth of Color, Gang Database and Gang Injunctions

[st-joseph-rtc]

Elias Archer. 🧷🌹

“The Most Jealous Boy in Town.”

Favourite ride/attraction: The Zipper Catchphrase: " I'M NOT GAY DUDE I'M NOT!!! I JUST ACT LIKE IT!! " Zodiac + nature: Leo, Sign of Aggression Voice: Baritone

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INFO Nickname(s): Eli, Dumbass (Friends ONLY), The Rizzler (god never call him that) Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Closeted Gay, acts Homophobic and straight to blend in Gender(s): Male Age: 18 Grade: 12 Birthday: August 14 Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Nationality: American

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PHYSICAL Attire: Tank tops, shorts, the uniform, those highschool athlete jackets, also anything like the first faceclaim image, silver jewelry, A necklace with 24 safety pins on it. Height: 5'11'' Eye Color: Caramel Brown Hair Color: Black Appearance: Black well-taken care of hair, pretty jacked build from working out and sports. Distinct Features: Bandaged up on certain part of his body, some cuts and burns here and there.

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PERSONALITY Personality: At School, he's cocky, bitchy, and egotistical. He thinks he's better than everyone else except the more popular girls. Bullies people and is your stereotypical jock who's a jerk. Talented in athletics. At Home, he's struggling and he's in pain and he just wants help, but ever since he was born, he's known nothing but violence and strength and power is the only thing that matters. He hates being at school, he hates being at home. At home, he slams his door and just bed rots till school starts again or his best friends call him / text him Skills: Being a jerk, Drinking, Smoking, Sports, Athletics Likes: Sports, Picking on people (he's insecure it makes him feel better), Winning, Picking fights Dislikes: Being called out, Losing, Not getting validation Strengths: Fighting (Alessia can kick his ass though), Bottling his emotions. Weaknesses: Being caught in a vulnerable moment, His family, His past, secretly men

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LIFE Biography: Elias came from Los Angeles. He was spoiled rotten by his parents but then his parents had quickly ran out of money since LA is EXPENSIVE. Him and his parents argued about finances and of course his parents made the decision of moving to Uranium City. He hates it there but figures that picking on others makes him feel good about it all. Classes: Basics, Coding

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OTHER

Parents: Isabella Archer and Lucas Archer, He has a rough relationship with them. Siblings: A 19 year old brother who ran away from home Friends: Gabriel Allaire-Kingston, Carlos Daniel Alvarez Romance: Clementine Devereux (Complicated Fake-Dating) Crush: "Clementine Devereux" Gabriel Allaire-Kingston, Carlos Daniel Alvarez

Car: He takes the bus House: 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, it's small and cramped

- Faceclaim: Drawing Voiceclaim: N/A

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

"When individuals are treated as though they have certain characteristics, whether they actually have them or not, they are likely to develop such characteristics or have them magnified because of the the treatment. This phenomenon frequently occurs when prisoners are classified as recalcitrant and placed in lockup units. Many persons who were minor troublemakers, or who were mistakenly believed to be intensely or intimately involved in prohibited activities (such as gang activities), have been placed in the lockup units where they have actually fulfilled the prophecy—they have become serious troublemakers or gang members.

Several processes accomplish this transformation. In the first place, many prisoners are frustrated, angered, and imbued with a sense of injustice when they believe they have been unfairly placed in lockup. As previously mentioned, the process of classifying prisoners to lockup is often based on hearsay. Administrators have always felt a great need to cultivate and rely on information supplied by informers. They have regularly accepted anonymous information (“notes dropped”) and have often coerced prisoners into supplying information on other prisoners. For example, administrators usually require a prisoner who is seeking protection or is trying to drop out of a gang to name those who threatened him or were involved in prohibited activities, such as gang activities.

Administrators also have offered significant incentives, such as transfers, letters to the parole board, and placement in protective custody, to informants in exchange for information. Though some of the information supplied by informers is reliable, much is not. The new forms of disruption that prison administrations have been trying to control through the use of informants erupted simultaneously with the loss of cohesion among prisoners and a weakening of the convict code, which dictated, above all, not to snitch. A new ethic based on the principle of everyone for himself, or “dog eat dog,” has emerged. Informing for self-gain is consistent with this new ethic and has become much more commonplace. Prisoners even approve of falsely accusing others for self-gain.

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Once in the lockup units, the prisoners experience the extraordinary deprivations inherent in lockup status and frequently witness or are subjected to additional abuse perpetrated by lockup guards who express their extreme racism and general hostility toward lockup prisoners. This harassment further enrages many prisoners..."

- John Irwin, The Warehouse Prison: Disposal of the New Dangerous Class. Afterword by Barbara Owen. Los Angeles: Roxbury Publishing Company, 2005. p. 140-142.