Party (JS)

I put the final bottle of champagne behind the mini bar and adjust the cocktail bowl slightly to the left. I look around the living room, the grand Christmas tree was still up as it usually was until after New Year’s. The whole place was covered in string lights, outlining the furniture and hanging from the ceiling. This was the famous New Year’s Eve party my parents have been throwing since before I was even born and this year was the last one I’d be attending for a while, I realise sadly. This time next year I would be living in LA, in my first year of university and my parents planned to come down for Christmas and be back here for New Year’s. I wouldn’t come along. I always looked forward to this, guess I’d have to savour it the best I could.

Both my mom and dad were only children which meant growing up they made a lot of friends along the way and each year our parties got a little bit bigger, more and more families coming together for their New Year’s eve party. I always looked forward to two though, the Michaels and the Suggs.

“Are you done daydreaming?” My sister comes up from behind me. “Because there should be appetizers that need rearranging or something according to mom.”

“I’m on it,” I say mock-seriously. My mom really went all out with the food and my sister and I always teased her about it. My sister, Liz, had started uni this year but luckily she was only in London. A lot of our friends her age weren’t though, so we were missing a lot of people this year. But at least Joe would be around, I think. And Zoe.

“Put these near the piano,” my mom hands me a plate as I make my way to the kitchen. “Don’t drop them!” I pretend to struggle under the tray which earns me a stern look. “You should get ready,” my mom reminds me. “There’s only an hour before guests start coming!”

I run up to my room after gently placing the tray where my mom wanted it and put on the dress I had bought for the occasion. It was deep green satin with a plunging neckline and a leg slit that went up to my hips—a shorter skirt lay underneath so I wasn’t flashing the whole party. I usually wasn’t this risky but I figured the occasion called for it. The sleeves are almost bell-like, and I do a twirl before the mirror, excited to see how people liked it.

Who was I kidding, I wanted Joe to see me in it.

It was silly, there was half a year before I was leaving this place, but more than half my life that I’d been crushing on Joe Sugg. Sometimes, I thought he knew how I felt, I thought I was quite obvious as a kid. For a second, I thought maybe the feeling was mutual. But after truth or dare in the seventh grade, I’d tried my hardest to hide whatever feelings I had for him. I wondered if he’d noticed.

“Truth or Dare,” Olivia asks my sister, Olivia Michaels was our neighbour growing up and the one who introduced my sister and I to the world of beer and rock and roll. My sister and I were good friends with her and her younger brother Felix.

My sister choses dare and Olivia has her eat one of the gross drink concoctions we made earlier. A few rounds later, my sisters asks me.

“Dare,” I say, feeling brave.

“I dare you to kiss either Joe or Felix,” my sister says smugly.

“What? I-“

“It’s a dare!” Zoe laughs and I look at Felix, he was a couple years younger than me-he was a child…and Joe was my huge crush. There was no way I was going to have my first kiss with him like this; with popcorn in my teeth and my lips stained with popsicles.

“Unless you’d like to kiss them both,” my sister teases.

Not wanting any more pressure, I lean over and peck Felix on the lips. I can’t help but sneak a glance at Joe as I go back to my seat and everyone laughs at Felix’s flushing cheeks. But he looks uninterested.

A few rounds later, Felix asks Joe and Joe picks Truth.

“Who would you date from this circle?” Felix asks. My heart plummets into my stomach. Joe looks around, avoiding my eyes and that makes my heart race faster. He had to know how much I would die to date him. To call him anything more than my best friend.

“Liz,” Joe says my sister’s name and I felt sick. Of course he liked her better than me, she was smarter and prettier than me. I was just his best friend.

“Aw you’re cute,” my sister pinches Joe’s cheeks and his sister joins in. I excuse myself but I didn’t think anyone even noticed.

A knock at my door reminds me there was a party about to go down, or already going down, I realise as I hear voices already. “How long are you going to take? Mom wants you downstairs to greet everyone!” Liz calls through the door.

“I’ll be a minute!” I say. I take my new christmas present-an eyeshadow kit my mom had given, and the lipstick my sister gave after I used most of hers, and put on my makeup, feeling like a grown up already. So much was changing and I was buzzing with excitement.

I skip downstairs and greet everyone the way I usually did every year. This year everyone asks about school, I tell them my LA plan and they wish me luck. Over and over. Until Joe walks in with a bottle of something in his hand and I run to him, nearly knocking him down as I throw my arms around him. He smelled like the cologne he reserved for special occasions, and the soap he always used. I could never tire of it, of him.

He was as handsome as ever, a clean white button up tucked into black trousers. He’d cut his hair recently but I sort of liked the way he styled it, the soft layers looked bouncy.

“You look handsome! Where’s Zoe?” I ask.

“Food poisoning,” he hands me the bottle and I take it from him, stepping a bit back so he could see my outfit but he continues on without comment. “Mum’s stayed home with her, the bottle’s from her.”

“Duh, as if you could afford this,” I tease, pretending like my heart wasn’t just stabbed by his nonchalance. He follows me in as I sneak the bottle past my mom and hide it in the kitchen, it was a tradition for us kids to get drunk on our own stash we steal throughout the night.

“Where’s everyone else?” Joe asks. “Your sister?”

I ignore the ache I get in my chest, “Oh doing her rounds probably. Pretending she’s an intellectual because she’s done one semester at uni.”

Joe laughs and I love the sound, especially when he laughs at a joke I make.

“You-“

“Y/N! There you are!” Felix and Olivia pop in, interrupting Joe, and I give them both hugs. Olivia had brought her boyfriend this year so we get introductions and a quick catch-up before Olivia goes to find Liz and I’m left with Felix and Joe. Felix had grown to be surprisingly handsome, in a nerd chic sort of way. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was younger than me, I could have even considered dating him.

“So Y/N you look really amazing tonight,” Felix says.

“Aw thank you,” I say. “You look quite chic tonight too, is that suspenders you’re wearing under your jacket?” I tease Felix until he’s pink in the face before I turn to Joe who looks bored. I loop my arm through his, “Want to get something to eat? I’m craving some shortbread cookies.”

“Yeah. If we’re having our own party later on we don’t want a repeat of ‘09,” Joe jokes. That was the first year we had all snuck a bottle of wine from the party and drank it on an empty stomach. None of us had a good time.

“Don’t remind me,” I shudder before I call behind me. “Felix you coming?”

Joe stiffens beside me but we walk on.

•••

After a dozen devilled eggs and shrimp cocktails, I lose everyone to the crowd and find myself alone near the stairs. I watch the crowd and bask in the togetherness the holidays brought on, I would miss this a lot. I almost didn’t want to go when I was in moments like these, but I knew what I wanted from life and I knew I couldn’t stay in dreary UK for it.

As I look around with the room so full of lights, the corners of my vision suddenly warp and distort into a blurry mass. I blink a few times but it remains. This was so not happening.

I sit myself on the step and close my eyes, placing my head on my knees but as I do that, the nause creeps in. This was getting serious. Perfect.

I go up to my bedroom quickly and close the blinds, shutting the room in darkness. I unzip the side of my dress to give my room to breathe and lay down.

Of course I had to get a migraine the day of new year’s eve. My last party for a while. I groan and turn to the side, blindly groping for any pill bottle, not wanting to risk turning on my phone light.

I lay in the dark, I don’t know how long. Time passed slowly in the dark, the only thing I could hear is the muffled sound of the party downstairs. My phone vibrates a few times but I don’t dare look at it. I wanted to nip this migraine before it could come full force. I couldn’t believe this was how my year was going to end, I think. And without meaning to, the tears leak out from my eyes. Stupid migraines and stupid Joe Sugg! He hadn’t even noticed what I was wearing, he didn’t even care. He fancied Liz more than I and I was still crushing on him like an idiot. I wasted my high school years waiting for him. And now I was going to graduate soon, with no history of a relationship and no…

A soft knock interrupts my pity party. I wait again as the knock sounds, just to make sure I wasn’t hearing it.

“Y/N,” it was Joe.

I swipe at my face, pulling my blanket over my face. “I’m here,” I say. “You can come in.”

I hear the door creak open, the noise from downstairs flooding through before the closed door muffles it again.

“Migraine?” Joe asks. We’d been friends long enough that he knew exactly what was going down. I sense him standing at the edge of my bed, the room still in darkness.

“Yeah,” I inch the blanket off my face. It’s not like he could see my makeup streaks in the dark. “Great timing right?”

“Can I do anything?” Joe asks. God, I scoff, I thought I could just turn my feelings off for him but him just asking that brings them back full force. “Maybe some water…”

“I’ve got water,” I say. I sense him shifting around the room.

“Didn’t you used to have those ice packs?” Joe knows his way around my room, he often came over when we did homework, or in the summer before we would go out with our other friends. He locates where I kept the freeze packs and he cracks them, walking towards my bed and sitting on my sheets. “Here.”

He places one on my neck and I flinch at the cold.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before putting it back on.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, the cold already numbing the throbbing in my neck. “Thanks Joe.”

“It’s nothing,” Joe whispers back. I take the pack from where his hands hold it and hold it myself as I gently turn in bed, the little light streaming in outlines his sitting figure.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I let him know. “Go back to the party.”

“It’s no fun if you’re not there,” Joe says. He slowly inches himself down beside me and the smell of him invades my nose. Oh no.

“Joe your cologne-“ I say and he quickly gets up.

“Oh shit right,” Joe stands and I see the shape of him pace away from the bed. “Uh, I can go home and change-“

“Oh my god,” I let out a laugh and cut it short as my head throbs. “You’ve left so many shirts here when we go swimming in the summer. Just put one on if you want to stay here so bad.”

“I’m just here to avoid everyone asking what my plans after school are,” he jokes. “Are they in the bottom drawer?”

“Yeah,” I respond. “Tell them you’re still figuring it out.”

“Everyone here has kids who are doctors or some shit,” I can hear the Joe changing and I try to keep the inappropriate thoughts at bay. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“Who cares what they think though,” I say. Joe joins me back in bed, laying down to stare at the ceiling as I look at his profile, barely illuminated by the light peaking through my blinds.

“Sometimes I do,” he says quietly.

I find his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back and then turns to me. “So are you going to tell me why you were crying before I came in?”

“I was not crying,” I lie.

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too,” fingers graze my jaw and I’m busted. “Your face is still wet.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “I was just upset I was missing the party.”

“And?”

“I dunno, it’s my last party for a while!”

“Oh yeah,” Joe quiets down. A moment passes. Then another. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We still have like 7 months together, don’t cry for me just yet.”

“You’re the one that was crying,” Joe shoots back.

“Shut up!” I joke. “Can’t you let me win? I have a migraine!”

“How is it?” Concern creeps back into his voice.

“The usual, I just have to tone down my senses. It’ll get better.”

Joe’s hand moves up to my face and cups it, my heart fluttering, the blood rushing to my face and joining the dance my migraine was putting on in my head.

His hand creeps up into my hair and suddenly his hand is plucking out the pins from my hair, and putting it on my bedside. Of course he was just being helpful while I was getting all bothered. “Do you want to get into something more comfortable?” He asks. I try to ignore the way I felt with his body hovering over mine in the dark but my mind blanks for a moment. “Y/N?”

“Oh I have every intention to go back to the party later,” I say. “This dress stays on.”

“It’s a great dress,” Joe says.

“It is isn’t it,” I say, noticing how uncomfortable Joe was getting. He actually noticed. Why didn’t he say anything earlier?

“I mean,” he clears his throat. “You looked…beautiful.”

I pause, pure joy rushing through me. Joe noticed me, he said I was beautiful. And oh god, all these things happening in my body were not helping my migraine. But I wasn’t about to tell Joe that.

“Thank you,” I say softly, too afraid to break the moment.

“It’s nothing new though,” he says just as softly. “You always look beautiful.”

I look at him, squint in the dark to try to read his face but it’s hard to. Was he saying this because I was having a shitty time or did he actually mean it?

“Not as beautiful as Liz though,” I deflect, deciding he was just taking pity on me. “She’s the one with the looks in the family.”

There’s a deafening silence around us, I can hear my heart beating in it. He wasn’t denying it, I want to cry.

“She is…beautiful sure, but you’re something different Y/N. You bloody take my breath away every time I see you.”

I want to cry for other reasons now. Was this really happening?

“Sorry,” Joe interprets my silence as rejection and begins sitting up to go. “The dark’s just made me stupid, I said way too much and-

“Joe,” I try to cut through.

“You obviously just, you need to rest and I’m-“

“Joe Sugg,” I say again and grab his hand. “Lay back down you big idiot, your blabbering is making my head pulse.”

“Right,” Joe lays back down but I can hear his quick breathing. I was glad to know he was just as nervous. I still have hold of his hand and I place it around my waist, inching closer to him.

“When?” I have to ask.

“Do you remember when we had our second friendiversary?” He asks. I did. We met when we were both 7 after our parents had set up a play date and we got along so well we knew we would be friends instantly. We’d spit on our hands and shaken them, declaring that day our friend anniversary, and we’d celebrated most years since. “You had your parents drop you off on your way home from your nana’s because it was our friendiversary and we didn’t see each other all summer. And your nana gave you cookies for the ride home, and you saved me the peanut butter ones? I don’t know, when you came in that day I just took a look at you and I had butterflies in my stomach. You were there ever since school let out and I’d missed playing with you for so long. I think I realised I missed you more than just a friend that summer. And when I saw you-“

“I actually remember.” I join. “Because you had just stared at me with your mouth open. And I just put the cookies in your open mouth. I was angry I thought you were looking at me like that because Liz had put gum in my hair a week before and my nana had to cut a lot off.”

“Yeah,” Joe chuckles. “I remember that too.”

“And since then?”

“Yeah,” Joe’s hand curls around my waist.

“What about the seventh grade? Truth or dare?”

“You bloody kissed Felix!” Joe exclaims.

“I…you picked my sister because I kissed Felix? He was like 10!”

“I was stupid.”

“Was? If I was feeling better I would be slapping you right now.”

“Good thing you’re not,” Joe tugs me closer. Our faces are inches apart, and I want to lean over and just kiss him so bad.

“What’s taken you so long,” I whisper, my fingers resting on his face.

“Scared I would ruin our friendship. You’re so much better than me, I thought you would laugh if I told you.”

“You are so ridic-“

“Shh,” Joe shushes me. “Do you hear that?”

I quiet down and listen as the party downstairs begins counting down to New Year’s. Suddenly my hands are clammy, this was it. I was going to kiss Joe Sugg once and for all.

“5…4…3…” Joe whispers between us.

“2…” I get out before Joe closes the space and kisses me, his lips so soft, my head feeling like it would explode. And not just because of the migraine.

“Wow-“ Joe gets out before I go in for a second kiss, the cheering downstairs drowns out as I pull Joe closer to me, closer, finally the love of my life was in my arms.

We’re moving too quickly, a wave of nausea hits me and I pull away.

“Sorry was that too quick?” Joe panics.

“Head,” I say as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Shit,” I feel him sitting up and hovering over me, probably looking for the ice pack because soon the cold feeling returns to my temples.

“Thank you,” I whisper. He places a kiss on my lips as I stay still, trying to ease my nause. I feel a kiss on my jaw, then my neck. “Do you have to go home?” I ask.

“Nope,” Joe shifts beside me, I feel him get under the blanket, and he pulls me close to him. He lays his hand gently over me and I settle in beside him. What a New Year’s.

•••

“Y/N!” My sister’s voice wakes me and my eyes fly open. She stands in my doorway with her jaw open and I realise she’s staring at the weight on my right side. Joe.

“What?” Joe mumbles, awakened by my sister barging in.

“Oh my god!” My sister squeals. “It’s happening!” She runs out my door. “It’s happening!” She yells out to whoever was awake. And if they weren’t awake, her commotion sure woke them.

“She’s crazy,” I mumble before turning to Joe, the evening rushing to catch me up. He’s still only half asleep. When I call his name, he only groans and pulls me closer to him, hiding his face into my neck. My heart flutters, it felt like we’d always been together like this.

I allow myself the small pleasure of running my hands up into his hair and he groans into my neck, lifting his face up to look at me. Suddenly he starts laughing.

“Way to make a girl feel confident,” I’m suddenly self conscious as I get up.

“You do realise you’re in yesterday’s outfit? Including your makeup?” Joe asks, his voice hoarse.

“Shit!” I run to my mirror and laugh at what I see. “I’ll be back!”

I grab a spare shirt and move to the bathroom where I clean up and brush my teeth. My skin looked awful having slept in makeup but the glow I felt from waking up next to Joe kills any issue I might have had with it.

When I get back to my room he’s already up, the bed is made, and he’s folding his clothes from yesterday.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” I say as I walk to him. Immediately he catches my hand and pulls me in.

“Your head?” He asks.

“Great. Yours?”

“Clear as day. Glad it listened to my heart this one time.”

A smile creeps onto my face as the realisation of what he said settles in but pulls me in and kisses it off.

“Happy new year Joe,” I whisper when we part, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Happy new year Y/N,” Joe whispers back. “I think it’s going to be the best one yet.”

Request: (a s u p e r old request in my inbox-sorry!) Byron x Spencer Sutherland’s Talk

Y/N was taking her time carefully tucking her hair into her coat as we got up to leave the busy restaurant we’d picked for our weekly dinner. It’s been our tradition to catch up over dinner at least once a week, sometimes friends joined us, or a girlfriend if I had any at the time. Y/N rarely brought along her boyfriends-but then again, she didn’t date much.

“Hey did you break up with that guy you were seeing? The one with the tattoo?” I ask, suddenly remembering that she had mentioned a new boyfriend a couple weeks ago.

“No-still together, why?” Y/N zips her coat up and she slightly resembles a marshmellow with how puffy her layers made her.

“You didn’t talk about him once during dinner,” I wrap my own scarf around my neck just as we head out. “I thought maybe you broke up. Remember that time you were dating Ryan? Or Bryan? You wouldn’t shut up about how he took you on his-“

“Brian. With an I. He was clingy. But anyway we’re still in the early stages of dating soo, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, the way it generally goes Y/N, is you would be crazy for him right now.” I tease. “I would be sick and tired of hearing about him. I would want to throw myself in front of the next car coming down the road, ending my misery as you detailed your love life like you did with Brian with an i.”

“Well not that it’s any of your business!” She shoots me a look to say she was annoyed at my poking. “But I’m just trying to stay level-headed in case he doesn’t feel that intensely! I don’t want to go too crazy.”

“That’s your issue, woman!” I give in to the urge to push her and she bounces, in all her layers, against the storefront just as I expected. We immediately burst out in laughter, our previous conversation temporarily forgotten.

“At least I’m warm in here!” She shouts to anyone nearby who may be judging her marshmellow resemblance. I resist the urge to push her again and quickly wipe the tears from my eyes before stuffing my hands back into my warm pockets as we walk to the tube.

“You know, love isn’t about staying level-headed,” I continue. “It’s not really love if you can stay level-headed.”

“Well watch me Mr. Love Guru. I’ll be the first level-headed lover out there.” Y/N juts her chin out.

I sigh and just leave her be as we reach the underground. The ride home mostly consists of Y/N trying to wriggle out of a couple layers, complaining about how hot she was getting and all the while I laugh at my best friend’s crazy.

•••

Y/N’s hair is spread out around her, her bare shoulders uncovered from my white duvet tucked around her. She’s so still as she sleeps, her slow breathing as peaceful as the still morning around us. I study her face in the dim lighting as dawn approaches outside my window. I’d never noticed how graceful the curves of her face looked or how mesmerizing she was.

She shifts in bed, now facing me. How had I never noticed how breath-taking she was?

Her eyes flutter open like she could tell I was staring and she smiles sleepily when she sees me.

“Last night was fun,” she mumbles into the duvet, still too tired to form proper words. The intimate vulnerability between us fills me with happiness. I was so in love with this woman.

“Yeah,” I pull Y/N closer, hyperaware of her skin and her warmth and the feeling of her as she presses closer, wrapping her leg over mine. I kiss the top of her head when suddenly, a loud noise blares from somewhere in the house.

“Do you hear that? What is that?” I ask Y/N but she remains peacefully sleeping. Was I going crazy? “I’m gonna go check-“

I’m jolted with the realization that it was my phone beside me blaring out my ringtone. Just as I check the screen through bleary eyes, it stops. Who was calling me this early?

I turn back around in bed, now silencing my phone, and attempt to fall back asleep. But the pieces of my dream start to come back to me and my eyes widen as I remember. That was kind of a fucked up dream. I didn’t even like Y/N like that let alone love her…I was not in love with her-

Yet I can’t get the feeling of her out of my head as I close my eyes again. Her sleepy smile and the curve of her lips as well as the curve of her hips as I held her in the morning of my dream.

“Stop it!” I say out loud. “She’s your best friend you idiot.”

•••

I pace the lobby of Y/N’s building, nervous about seeing her. It had been a few days since that dream and I thought at first it would fade as all dreams did but this one didn’t seem to want to leave my mind. The harder I tried not to think about it, the more I was reminded of it. I distracted myself-even went clubbing with friends to try to get it out but every time I would remember flashes of her and it drove me crazy. I didn’t know if I could see her the same way.

Y/N finally steps off the lift and I spot her before she sees me. I was sure she’d worn that dress before but suddenly, I feel different seeing her in it. The low cut of it threatens my attention and the fit of it just takes me back to the dream.

“There you are! Why are you just standing there you weirdo!” Y/N’s voice snaps me back into reality. “Let’s go-we’re already late.”

“Well that’s not really my fault,” I find my voice, walking ahead and holding the door open for her. “One of us changed their outfit twenty times and it wasn’t me.”

“Whatever,” she gets into my car parked out front. “Now listen, this is a big deal. It’s not just an office party but a very strategic political play and I have to make a good impression…”

My mind wanders as Y/N details how I had to behave.

That stupid dream-it was just a dream! It was a PG dream but my thoughts were far from PG. Y/N was my best friend but…I know I can’t go back to how it was.

“Are you listening!” Y/N’s voice cuts through.

“Yeah yeah,” I glance over at her and quickly look away. “They’re the same rules my mother would tell me: behave myself, laugh at all the lame jokes, never leave your side. Blah blah blah-“

“Byron!” She scolds. “This is a big deal. Please take it seriously!”

“I am,” I turn in to the venue and find an empty parking spot. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the promotion. Just relax a little bit? Take a chill pill or whatever.”

“I’ll need a drink not a pill for that,” she allows a small smile to grace her lips.

“Oh come on! You can give me a better smile than that,” I tease and it’s enough for a full Y/N smile to shine through. And my breath catches again. This was going to be the most difficult night ever.

“Have I got something in my teeth?” Y/N suddenly rips the visor down to peer into its tiny mirror. “What are you staring at.”

“Nothing,” I close the visor gently. “You just look…really good tonight. Like you’re confident and beautiful and you’re ready for a big promotion.”

“Oh stop it,” she opens her door with a smile before turning back to me. “I do look good don’t I?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” I usher her out and we walk arm in arm to the party.

•••

“I don’t know if I should just wait a couple months when I move into my new flat,” Y/N and I sit across from the other at our weekly dinner that week. She still hadn’t invited her boyfriend even though I told her to. I thought maybe seeing him with her would help me get over my new obsession but she said something about him being busy.

“Yeah,” I respond absentmindedly.

“Yeah but if I get one now…”

I’d been distracted all night, barely able to respond to Y/N. It was painful to be so casual when all I wanted to do was stop talking and kiss her instead. It didn’t help she’d worn a deep red lipstick tonight and my eyes kept wandering to the way her lips moved when she talked, when she smiled. Even when she scowled as she was doing just now. Shit.

“What’s going on with you?” Y/N snaps her fingers. “Have you not been sleeping?”

“Huh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. You’ve been acting kind of weird.”

“I’m fine-really!” I insist, putting a forkful of food into my mouth so I don’t have to talk. I wasn’t fine, my best friend was suddenly everything to me and I just couldn’t give up now that I was feeling love. Now that all I wanted to do was just kiss her.

“You’re always so distracted whenever I talk,” she pouts. “Is something wrong? Ooh does Byron have a new crush?”

“No!” I say, my anxiety making my voice a little louder than intended. “It’s fine-I’m fine!”

“Why are you getting angry huh?” She presses my buttons ever so gently.

“I’m not,” I try to settle down but the fustration I felt with myself creeps into my voice. “I’m notangry.”

“Well that was a convincing argument,” she rolls her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “You know, you barely even talk to me anymore-I know something’s wrong.”

“All we do is talk!” I burst out. When we should be kissing, I want to add. But I’d already said too much.

“Well…what else are we supposed to do?” She raises an eyebrow at my outburst.

“I-nothing.” Shit. “Just forget everything.”

“I don’t want to forget it. Am I talking too much? If you have an issue with me or something just say it.” Insecurity seeps into Y/N’s voice and I hate myself for it.

“Maybe we should just cut the night short,” I say, getting up. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I leave enough on the table to cover us-an apology without saying one. I felt like a dick walking out but I had to or I was going to say something I could never take back.

•••

A few days later, Y/N shows up at my flat without saying so. I’m caught off guard when I open the door for her. She acts like nothing happened, asking me how I was doing and where we should go for that week’s dinner. I play along, feeling more confused as she makes herself comfortable.

“Are you…mad?” I finally break the facade when there’s a pause in our friendly conversation. I couldn’t take it much longer.

“About?” She raises her eyebrow. And I suddenly see it in her face-this was her plan all along. To get me to bring it up. I can’t help the laugh that comes out-I should have known better.

“The other night.”

“I’m not mad, just confused,” she says. “I still don’t know why you got so upset.”

“Okay good.” I try to gather a safe explanation.

“What did you mean all we do is talk?” She asks again. I battle between just saying what I was feeling and making up an excuse that I was tired but before I can think of one Y/N interrupts with, “Don’t think I don’t know your excuse-making face. I want the truth Byron-I’m tired of you being so weird.”

“Fine. This is going to sound crazy though,” I say after a lengthy silence. I was just going to tell her. She was my best friend-a stupid dream shouldn’t come between us. I had to stop this now.

“I doubt it will but go on.”

My eyes scan her waiting face, the set of her jaw and the softness of her lips. Her eyes bore into mine, expecting an answer.

“A couple weeks ago I had this…dream. Andyouwereinitand-“

“Oh my god!” Y/N’s shout stops me mid-sentence. “Is that what this is all about?”

She throws her head back and cackles with laughter.

“Wait! Why are you laughing?” I ask. “It’s not funny! I’m trying to explain-”

“Oh my god! It’s extremely funny!” She says through her laughter. “Was I at least any good in your dream?” She asks clutching her stomach.

“I-wait. So you’re not angry?” She didn’t care about the dream?

“Angry?” She tries to hold in her laughter but it turns to giggles. “Byron why would I be angry over something you dreamt about? I’m too gorgeous-you can’t help it right?”

“Alright that’s enough,” I roll my eyes. “Let’s pack your ego back up, it’s uninvited.”

“So tell me, how bad was it?” She ignores me. “Tell me!”

“I-it-we…this is weird,” I struggle to continue. “Nothing reallyhappened.”

“Oh,” she finally sits up, appearing a little more sane. “So then…why are you acting so weird?”

“I thought it would fade away after a couple days but the dream sort of-well it made me realise…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

“Oh no,” Y/N shifts closer to grab my hand. “Byron we-“

“I know! I know. We’re best friends. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything-I thought it would go away eventually but you were just too damn curious to let it go.”

“How long have you felt like…that?” Y/N asks gently.

“Never!” I cry. “I swear I’m not some cliche best friend. You’ve only ever been my best friend. That’s how I’ve always seen you! But I don’t know anymore. And it’s stupid anyway. It’ll probably just pass.”

“So wait, when you said all we do is talk?”

“You’re still on me about that?” I chuckle. When she looks at me seriously I sigh. “I wanted to be kissing you instead-happy?”

I remove my hand from hers and get up. I needed the space.

“Byron-“

“You don’t have to let me down easy or anything Y/N. I’ll be alright. And anyway, you have a boyfriend so it’s not like I’m-“

“We broke up,” she interrupts.

“What?” I look at her finally and she’s stood up too. “When?”

“After you told me the whole level-headed thing-I realised you were right.”

“Oh.” I continue looking her way and when she looks at me, it’s exactly the way she looked in my dreams. Intimate, her guard down. Had we both felt it? Was there something brewing under the surface all along? Were we both just waiting for the other to make a move?

“So,” Y/N moves closer to me.

“So,” I mimic.

“All we do is talk…?” She raises an eyebrow.

I smile at her hidden question, reaching out to touch her. My hands find the same waist from my dream I kept replaying. She feels exactly as I thought and so much better at the same time. She takes her time as slips her hands around my neck.

“All we do is talk,” I grin. “When it’s our bodies that should be having the conversation.”

“That was way too cheesy,” she groans, her face mirroring my own grin. “But I do like the commitment to the whole talking m-”

“Still talking,” my words are minimal as I pull her closer. “Stop talking.” I mumble but even then, we can’t stop smiling against each other.

When we manage to sober up enough to actually kiss each other, it’s hard to believe she’s the same woman I was convinced was nothing more than my best friend a few weeks ago. The same one I was trying to avoid for weeks. Kissing her is bliss. And now, the absolute last thing I want to do is talk talk talk.

Right Decision (JS)

A/N: Just something I wrote a while back and since it was one of the few imagines actually completed I’ll just post it up. :)

I look at myself in the mirror, not actually seeing my reflection as my mind wanders to a million other thoughts. It was probably quite early. I hadn’t actually checked the time when I slipped out of bed but the sky outside was still dark-no hint of a rising sun. Way too early to be up.

But I just couldn’t fall back asleep when I woke up and adjusted to my surroundings. My anxious heart and overthinking mind kept battling until I had to get up and splash my face with cold water, telling them both to shut up.

I glance under the mirror to the products-very different than mine-that litter the sink. The dark-coloured “manly” hair products, shaving cream on the shelf, fancy lotions and I smile at the bath bombs. Joe was always going on about how he needed a good bath. I glance at the wide bathtub behind me and sigh, resting the weight of my body against the sink.

It had been months of friendship, shifting to flirting, slowly becoming annoying to everyone else who knew the both of us. “When are you two getting together?” Everyone always asked, usually in a frustrated tone. It only made Joe and I laugh though, secretly happy to take our sweet time falling together. The flirting and the teasing was fun-neither of us denied that. But then last week, in a surprise gesture he’d formally asked me out and last night was the dinner date we were both stupidly nervous for. The conversation felt too formal, the food tasted like sawdust, and we were holding our breath until the end. It was only once we’d come back to Joe’s, in our familiar place, that we began to relax and laugh about the tense dinner.

“I was almost scared that asking you on a date was the wrong move,” Joe laughed over a beer. The two of us had settled outside on his balcony. “It was a terrible dinner.”

“Awful.” I agreed. “I think we put too much pressure on it.”

“I think everybody put too much pressure. My hands were shaking-did you see them?”

“No,” I laughed. “I definitely would have poked fun at you if I had seen them.”

“I bet you would,” Joe scowled jokingly before he stretched his leg out towards me. I slapped it away, not wanting his big toe in my face.

“But anyway,” Joe had finally said after we’d fallen silent. His serious tone made my heart race, especially as he placed his bottle onto the floor to free his hands. My eyes stayed fixed on his as he slid closer. “Now that all the shite’s been cleared away, I know I made the right decision.”

“How would you know for sure,” I challenged. “When you haven’t even kissed me yet?”

Joe raised an eyebrow, impressed by my forwardness. His hands came up to stroke my cheek, “Guess I’ll have to just,” he guided my face towards him. “Make sure.” He muttered before he kissed me.

I had to remember to close my eyes because I was shocked despite the lead-up. But as soon as I relaxed, instinct took over and I was pushing into him to take it further. And in no time, we’d taken it the furthest it could go.

“Definitely the right decision,” Joe had grinned afterwards. We lay in bed facing each other, unable to keep the grins off of our faces.

“I’m still not too sure,” I teased which led to a play fight, Joe making sure I paid for the comment by tickling me until I couldn’t breathe.

But now at an ungodly hour, standing in front of his bathroom mirror, my head is reeling with all the highs and lows and all the emotions last night created. I touch my lips and smile, this was a first for me. This high I felt, a rushing emotion that inflated my chest with a certain happiness every time I thought about him. About us…I wasn’t certain, but I was pretty sure I was totally head over heels in love with him.

With one last glance in the mirror, I close the light and walk back to bed. I check my phone for the time and I’m glad to see I still had plenty of time to lay sleeping beside Joe.

I slide between the sheets, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of Joe’s flat around me. I don’t realise I’d waken him until he shifts towards me and his arms wrap around my waist.

“Where’d you go?” He mumbles sleepily into my neck.

“Bathroom-I was putting hair dye in your conditioner,” I smile.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” his voice rumbles beside me. I turn to him, suddenly knowing for certain now that I loved him. Or I could love him and I will. Did everything he say have to sound so damn perfect?

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper, kissing his nose.

“Mhm,” he agrees, his warm hand creeping up my shirt to rest on my back. “Sleep.”

I stroke his slightly stubbled cheek, enjoying my chance to admire him this close. But he soon grabs my hand away and holds it between us, his eyes remaining closed. My heart swells. How did I get so lucky, I think, as I drift off to sleep myself. Things were always heading in this direction in an obvious way to everyone-even us. But I never imagined just how right it would feel until now. It was most definitely and without a doubt the right decision.

NYE

You were going to spend New Year’s Eve alone. It wasn’t that you had no friends-you had plenty. But you had plans. Specifically, plans to stay in with your boyfriend and pop a bottle of champagne as the clock struck 12.

But as the clock struck 5pm today, he’d taken your hand and “gently” explained that you two should break up. That he wanted to celebrate the New Year with nothing holding him back. As if you were holding him back and not his idiot friends and all the stupid decisions he made. You think angrily to all the times you helped him and cared for him and the wave of tears threaten to ruin your night all over again but you hold them at bay.

Instead, you message your best friends in your group chat but they were either out of the city or with their own families and boyfriends. You scroll through Instagram and see other close friends at parties nearby but you don’t message them. You didn’t want to be the charity invite and you didn’t want to talk about why you were spending the night alone. You were an independent woman. You could spend New Year’s alone…with your cats…and a nice bottle of champagne all…to…yourself…

Fuck it, you think.

You open one of your many group chats; to the group that was always up for a good time, no questions asked.

I’m stranded on cat lady island on New Year’s, what are you guys doing and when can I join you? You ask the group.

Josh: you forgot the crazy part

Conor:Josh just stole my joke. I said it out loud first

Joe:we’re at my place swing by whenever you want!

Josh: it’s my joke now

Caspar:shut up. Y/N you need to bring sweets if you come. Joe has no sweets-he’s gone crazy

Joe:no Y/N doesn’t have to I’ll just pop out to grab them

Y/N:I’m more than happy to! See you in 40

Oli:we’re at Joe’s

Oli:…oh wait you already know

Oli:can you get ice cream?

You leave the group before you accidentally stay on your couch scrolling through the hundreds of messages that always seem to pour in when they got to talking. Even though, now that you thought about it, they were all in the same place. Weirdos.

You replace your comfy clothes with the metallic shirt you bought for your cancelled New Year’s plans, and pair it with a pair of comfy jeans. The convenience store down the road is still open so you buy a couple tubs of ice cream, a few packs of biscuits, and reload your oyster. Then you’re on the tube to Joe’s safe haven.

You and the boys had know each other since the inception of “British Youtube.” You first got to know Caspar when you used to edit for him, and then he convinced you to start your own channel and it blew up over the year. You met a few of the other boys, made your own girl friends and became a common feature on their channels as they did yours.

You feel the warmth from Joe and as soon as he opens his door to you and crushes you to him. Even though you were all good friends, it had been a while since you saw everyone together. You spent a bulk of the last month back in Dublin to figure yourself out. Youtube had taken its toll on you the last year and you needed a break from social media at home. At the time, your boyfriend stayed with you for a couple weeks before heading back to London but you wondered if the two week break had made up his mind about you. It didn’t matter though. Being back and seeing everyone all together at Joe’s was your favourite feeling, even though you didn’t quite know how to describe it.

The warm welcome is extended by each of the boys, except for Josh who enjoyed making fun of you ever since you tried to drunkenly kiss him that one time on New Year’s. In your defence, he had been a stranger at that time-Caspar forgetting to introduce you. And he had looked really good that night three years ago when you were horribly single. Kind of like today, you realise. But you shake off the lonely feeling before it can suffocate you and smile at all the boys and some of their girlfriends who joined the party too.

“How was home?” Jack asks and it strikes you as an odd question. Home was Dublin, but it was also London. It was also right here amongst your loving friends.

“Much needed,” you tell him. “Feel refreshed and ready to continue Youtube this year.”

“The rest of us boys always have a bet on who, between you, Caspar, and Joe are going to quit Youtube first.”

“Who’d you bet on?” You narrow your eyes.

Jack shrugs casually but side-eyes Joe who catches it. “What’s going on?” Joe looks at the two of you, confused.

“Jack wants to be your midnight kiss again,” You tease before leaving Jack alone to explain himself.

As the night goes on, you catch up with the boys and knock back a few glasses of champagne and consume half a tub of ice cream. You eventualy break off with Caspar as the two of you reflect over the last year but when Joe joins you, the three of you talk about all the good times you’d had over the last few years. As midnight nears, you part ways and find a comfortable spot on the floor. The thing about hanging out with the boys and booze was that they could get a little much and it required you to step away for a bit.

You sit off to the side against the wall and automatically open your Instagram, promising yourself not to go to your ex’s page.

But you click his name. And you watch his stories, your chin resting on you knees, grinding your teeth so you wouldn’t cry. It was ridiculous, you realise. Pull yourself together. You click on your own page instead and smile at all the memories.

Your finger goes to Caspar’s birthday party. You’d never seen him drink that much or sing that loudly but it was one of the highlights of your year. You pinch your fingers and zoom into the picture to smile at each person. Your heart squeezes with how much you love every single one of those idiots.

You swipe back and click Jack’s tour, remembering the absolute joy of seeing him on stage doing what he loves to do. How happy he was and the energy in the room all because of what he was doing. You laugh to yourself; you bought him a karaoke machine as a funny Christmas gift once but he’d forced you to stay until the early hours singing with Conor and Mikey as well. It was payback for the gift, he’d told you. But getting drunk and singing old songs was a perfect combination.

Next, you go to one of your favourite pictures on your feed. Mikey had taken it. It’s the one where you sit laughing in a shopping cart as Joe pushes it. Josh pushing your friends behind you.

You still remember that day as if it happened yesterday. You and your friends had convinced Josh and Joe to push you in shopping carts near the abandoned area of the grocery store. The boys were filming some sort of skit and you were in it and they asked you to bring along a couple friends for extras. There’d been many parties together so everyone knew each other. You specifically knew Josh had a crush on your best friend so you sat in the one Joe was pushing. Coincidentally, you had a crush on Joe. Or maybe it wasn’t called a crush after crushing for over two years. Maybe you were just a little in love with Joe Sugg.

“If you fall this isn’t my fault!” Joe warns you for the ninth time.

“Yeah yeah, it’s my fault, let’s just go!” You tell Joe.

“Noo I know how this works,” Joe crouches down behind you and you try to ignore the feeling in your stomach as he talks low in your ear. “You’re going to say it’s not my fault right now and then when you fall you’ll blame me.”

“That’s ridiculous I would nev-“

“Are we ready?” Josh asks. We were racing to the end of the lot. “Can we go?”

“I’ll say it!” Mikey overhears and comes over to count us down. “3…2…1!”

Josh’s long legs beat Joe at first but your friends shifting in the cart slows them down so that Joe and you are in the lead. Except it’s too fast and there’s no way to stop and one second you’re high from the speed and the next second youmre low on the ground, Joe’s concerned voice coming closer as he runs to you.

Nothing was broken, but you definitely didn’t take any selfies for a week as your bruises healed. And it was actually a nice week where Joe came over a lot to make sure you were alright. The two of you fell asleep watching movies a lot. You kind of missed that.

You go back and click the picture of you and Joe accidentally fallen asleep on his couch. Jack had taken the picture and posted it to his story so you’d figured there was no harm in posting it too. But for weeks your fans went crazy thinking the two of you were officially dating but despite your wishes, you weren’t.

That’s what always confused you about Joe. You look up and spot him half-listening to a story Jack is telling him and Byron. Your friends insisted he liked you back, they pointed out the “signs” all the time. But it just didn’t make sense to you. He was Joe Sugg and you were just Y/N. He always treated you like a friend, he was always protective of you when it came to other guys and your feelings. But he never got too involved either.

He would always stick up for you when the boys took their teasing too far, the two of you had so many inside jokes. He always had his arm around you in pictures, gravitated towards you when he was drunk, and the two of you shared too many couch naps-your limbs tangled with each other. You weren’t sure if it was because you two were Youtubers-the fallout if you ever broke up would be messy. Or if it was because you two were friends for so long. Either way Joe was confusing to love because you were never clear where he stood.

Just then, Joe catches your eye. You smile at him and he motions for you to get off the floor and sit on the couch instead. You shake your head no, but you don’t realise he would get up in the middle of Jack’s story and walk to you.

“Why are you sitting in the corner of my living room?” He asks.

“Just needed a breather,” you look up at him (how the hell was he was gorgeous from this angle, you can’t help think).

“Can I get you a drink?” Joe asks.

“Yeah why not,” you shrug and watch him leave.

You click the ambiguous picture of your back to the camera, the beautiful sunset on the horizon. A lot of people thought the bloke next to you was Joe, the comments roaring again with your ship name. But in reality, it was your ex. You two made it official that night, hanging out with all your friends. You best friend captured that and you posted it with a heart, to capture the moment your relationship began. But now….you consider deleting it.

“Didn’t everybody think that was me?” Joe reappears quietly, looking down at you and your phone and you quickly put your phone down.

“Yeah, our followers went mad.” You accept the drink from him but he sits down next to you. “I think most of them figured it out though when I posted the boyfriend tag on my channel.”

“Yeah,” Joe chuckles. “I almost thought that was me when I first saw it too.”

You remember Joe’s reaction when you told him about the new guy you were dating. You: told a story you thought was funny but his face remained serious. He told you his honest opinion-he didn’t like him. But you’d ignored Joe as always. A boyfriend Joe disapproved of didn’t matter. It was better than no boyfriend and pining over one of your best friends instead.

You sigh and turn your phone on again but don’t realise you left it at the delete screen. You glance at Joe and he has his eyebrow raised.

“Is that why you’re here?” He asks, automatically understanding.

“Sort of,” you avoid his gaze. You look at the screen. “Delete Post” and your finger goes to “Cancel” the request. “It’s…well I want to say it’s complicated but it’s not. It’s simple. We broke up. He broke up with me.”

“Hm,” Joe hums. “When?”

“Today?” You feel pathetic telling him this. His head turns to you immediately but you stare at the stupid picture, not able to see the pity Joe’s face would probably hold. You should delete the stupid picture. It didn’t mean anything anymore.

“Y/N,” Joe says with such concern. “Are you alright?”

It’s the question that does it. You open your mouth to give a flippant answer, something funny to make fun of yourself. Instead, a sob breaks through and soon your head is on Joe’s chest, crying your heart out, and soaking the material probably. You’re glad the music and the party is loud enough and the two of you are tucked away enough not to draw attention. Joe rubs your arms and tells you it would be okay, saying every perfect thing in the book to make you feel better. And you believe him. You know it. You’d been through break-ups before. But having Joe hold you makes you more sad, of what you couldn’t have.

“I’m okay,” you finally pull yourself away from Joe and he leans over your body to hand you a tissue to wipe your snotty face. “I’ll be okay. He was a dick to break up with me today. I know that.”

“Shit Y/N,” Joe leans his head against the wall. “You deserve so much better. I told you not to date him-“

“Oh don’t even go there,” you scowl. “You cannot be telling me I told you so not even 24 hours after my break up!”

“I’m not saying I told you so!”

“You so are!” You roll your eyes and face away from Joe. “You say not to date every single guy I date! How am I supposed to trust your opinion!”

“Well look at how all of them left you!” Joe defends.

“I broke up with some of them! I left them! They didn’t all break up with me!”

“Fine.” Joe pulls his knees up to his chest. “But in the end, your heart was always broken.”

“Fuck you,” you turn back to Joe. You knew deep down you weren’t this angry at him. It was just the emotional breakup and the fact that Joe sat here judging you. “I’m sorry I don’t just sleep around to spare me the heartbreak of a real relationship. I’m sorry I enjoy being in a bloody relationship even if that means it might end one day! I don’t care if I’m naive or…whatever you’re thinking of me I don’t care!”

“Y/N I just think-“

“I don’t care.” You stop him. It wasn’t fair! How could it be more than three years of loving Joe but he never once revealed if he felt the same way. It wasn’t fair that you went through boyfriend after boyfriend but after every heartbreak you realised it never would have worked anyway because you loved Joe.

“Well don’t ring in the New Year with such a grumpy face,” Joe bumps into your shoulder after a few silent minutes pass by but you leave the scowl on. “You’re gonna get wrinkles and look like Zo’s dog.”

Your mask slips and you crack a smile before covering it up.

“There it is!” Joe points out with a laugh but you shove his chest.

“I’m angry at you!” You shout before laughing yourself and then covering your face with your hands. A tear escapes but you brush it away. “You’re the worst friend ever!”

“I know,” Joe pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. “My New Year’s Resolution is to be a better friend next year. Now let’s get drunk or something.”

“Wow.” You take his hand and he helps you up. “You’re already being a better friend.”

“Well it’s easy,” Joe laughs. “Just get you drunk all the time.”

“Not tonight though!” Someone says from behind. You turn to face Byron. “She’ll try to kiss Josh.”

“Byron shut up!” You flush with embarassment and you hear Josh laughing as he overhears his name. “Will you guys ever let me live that down?”

“Never!” Comes multiple voices at once. You grab the glass Joe poured and down it all at once.

“I really needed that,” you explain when Joe stares at your empty glass with a mix of admiration and concern.

But after a few drinks your bladder presses on you and you run to relieve it before the count down. When you return, the boys are suddenly a lot nicer to you and you eye Joe, suspecting him of telling them you’d broken up with your boyfriend. But instead of being angry, you go to Joe and hug him instead. Caught off guard, he stumbles back before getting his feet under him and wrapping his arms around you.

“You alright?” He mumbles.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It’s nice having friends who care.”

“You know.” Joe groans. “I told them not to make it obvious. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you let go of Joe and kiss his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Suddenly the countdown begins and you turn to everyone, their faces alight with joy and alcohol. The voices blur into one on the final three, Joe squeezes your hand and your heart races. What if you leaned over and kissed him? It would be perfect.

But another part reminds you you’d just gone through a breakup. It wouldn’t be perfect.

“Two!” The room shouts. “One!”

You watch as some of the boys kiss their girlfriends and others raise their glasses. You’re about to turn to Joe to laugh but a pair of hands grab your face and press a kiss onto your surprised mouth.

“Happy New Year Y/N. Now I’ll let it go! We’re even!” Josh winks and everyone in the room laughs. “Whoo!” Josh shouts out and turns to walk away but you to jump onto his back and he stumbles while swearing. You balance out as he stands up and everyone raises their drink.

You look out to Joe from up on Josh’s level and he grins at you, mouthing a happy new year. You mouth it back even though your heart feels like it was going to explode.

Later, once you land with your feet on the floor and tease Josh about his kissing skills. You open your Instagram (without the urge to check your ex’s) and post a picture of your champagne flute against Joe’s decorations, the one where you convinced Josh to sprinkle confetti over and over until you got the perfect picture. Happy New Year, you caption it. You look over at Joe and he looks up too, somehow always sensing your gaze on him. It’s going to be a much happier year ahead, you decide, as Joe begins walking forward to meet you halfway.

Call me Out (CM)

“Soo what are we doing again?” I ask for the fifth time, hugging my arms to my chest. It was an unusually cool evening in LA and although my bottom half was covered appropriately in a pair of jeans, I had on only a tube top leaving my bare arms covered in goosebumps.

“Well Rick forgot his ID and so did Omar and Anth’s still on the damn phone.” My friend sighs. “So I don’t know!”

“Just go to the club without us!” Rick says for the millionth time and I seriously wonder why we didn’t do just that. “We’ll come next time.”

“The whole point was to go together since we’ve all finally got fake IDs.” Omar pouts. “They can go if they want. But-”

“We could go to one of those all-age clubs-”

“No! No, those suck-”

“I have an idea.” My friends all pause at the new voice. It was Anth’s friend Conor who he introduced us to earlier that evening. We’d all said hello and included him in the group without a question even though he was obviously British and not from around here. Which we all secretly thought was really cool…but were just too LA to admit. But Conor hadn’t gone unnoticed for me-catching my eye and sending my heart racing. Not only because he had the same accent as my favourite movie ever made at the time (Bridget Jone’s Diary) but he was cute in a way that wasn’t intimidating. “Those of us with ID can get the beer and we can find some place to hang out.” Conor licks his lips. “We can still make the most of the night that way.”

All eyes are on the group newbie until Omar speaks up, obviously relieved from his fomo: “You’re genius. Let’s do that.”

“Okay, my basement’s empty we can head there. So how about Y/N goes and…” Malia stares at our newcomer for an uncomfortable second as she blanks on his name.

“Conor.” I cut in. “Conor and I will go.”

At the sound of his name, Conor looks up sharply at who said it. I feel myself blushing clumsily as I try not to look as excited as I felt but I couldn’t help it! I would finally get some time alone to get to know my sudden new crush.

Since the closest liquor store was right up the street, Conor and I head off and tell the gang we would meet them at Malia’s. As we walk, I’m nervous. I fold my arms into myself, and then unfold them, and fold them again before Conor offers his leather jacket.

“Oh I’m fine,” I say politely. Damn. I wasn’t fine in any way. But I couldn’t just accept his-

“No take it. I’m warm.” Conor begins stripping the jacket off before I could politely decline again. “I’ve got a jumper underneath anyway.”

“A jumper?” I ask, looking at the sweatshirt he wore underneath and back up at his face.

“Yeah,” he picks the fabric up to show me. “A jumper?”

I take the jacket from him and eagerly drape it over my shoulders; its leftover warmth blankets my body. “Is that like, a British thing?” I ask, intrigued and still staring at him, forgetting we should be continuing our walk instead of standing under the street lamp.

“I don’t know…I guess?” Conor seems just as nervous as me as he shoves his hands into his pocket. I tug the jacket closer around my body which catches his attention, his eyes roaming all over me. I sense a shift in him, almost unnoticeable except in the way that he finally meets my gaze.

“You’ve got really nice eyes,” he says and then immediately looks away.

“Thanks,” I laugh nervously. “You’ve got a really toasty jacket.”

He looks back up, his cheeks a slight pink under the sodium lights, and his tensed face melts into a smile that warms me up from the inside. He has a playful glint as he tugs at the jacket’s lapel, “I’m a hot guy-didn’t I already say?”

He was hot. But I don’t stroke his ego. I turn away instead, continuing again on our trek to the store, calling out behind me. “If I remember correctly the only thing you said was you were warm!”

He laug loudly into the night and the ice between us. We begin talking and asking about the other, greedily tearing up the rare time alone, wanting to know each other as well as we could before we had to return to our group. By the time we get into the liquor store I’ve told him about growing up in LA, how I hated school, and how my brother drove me crazy and he’s told me about the town he’s from, his younger brother and sister, and why he was in LA–to work on music. And I was impressed, he was only my age.

“So are you any good?” I ask him as we track down the aisle with the cheaper beer. We’re the only ones inside so we try not to draw too much attention.

“No. Not yet,” he laughs and his face does the squinty thing I’d started to find adorable. I stare at him as he leans down and picks up two cases.

“Well will you let me hear it? When it is good?” I ask seriously.

He straightens up and turns to me, nodding his head vigorously. “Yeah,” he answers, his voice suddenly serious. “I will.”

Two Years Later:“I’ve heard it then,” I’m on the phone with Conor as I look out the taxi window into the crowds of tourists. I was on my way to my boyfriend’s place and the radio surprised me with a familiar voice. “Your song just came on the radio and I’ve finally heard it!”

“I was on the radio?” Conor asks from the other side of the world. I wished he was here to hear it with me so I could see his reaction myself. “You heard me in LA?”

“I’m in a taxi,” I say. “And I’d recognise your stupid voice anywhere.”

“And?” Conor asks, not hiding his excitement at all.

“It’s still not good-I told you to only show me when-”

“Shut up!” Conor shouts and I have to move the phone away slightly as his belly-laugh emenates from the phone. “You’re a little shit!”

“No!” I insist. “You’re shit!”

“Don’t say that,” Conor’s humour is slowly leaking out of his voice and I decide I’d taken the joke far enough.

“It’s-as you would call it-bloody amazing! I was totally kidding. The song. Is. Amazing.”

“Really?” Conor asks, his excitement apparent again.

“Yes!” I shout. “You should be so proud of yourself! Soon you’ll be as big as Beiber!”

We go back and forth as he shies from the compliments and finally accepts them. We move onto the cliffnotes version of life updates before I reach my destination and tell him I had to go. This was the way it had been with Conor and I over the two years we’d known the other. After an intense first time hanging out, we’d eased up and stuck to the safe option of being good friends. The constant distance between us and the fact that we shared a mutual friend group, prevented us from hooking up-if things went south, it would be very awkward. Plus, we were both busy figuring out our own futures. Mine, currently, was going to school so I could get into acting.

But I still couldn’t control my erratic heartbeat whenever I spotted Conor in LA. There was an undeniable attraction, made stronger with the easy chemistry we had. He had a pull on me none of my other crushes or boyfriends ever had. But after a few weeks every time, I had to let Conor go back home to London and as painful as it was each time, it would be made more painful if we were anything more than friends. So I simply chalked it up to a juvenile crush and forced myself onwards.

One Year Later: “Y/N…” Conor pulls his pants onto his hips and secures it with a belt. “I don’t know what to-”

“It’s fine,” I laugh like I thought everything that had happened over the last 10 hours was all one big joke. But my hands shake under the covers and I have a hard time looking him in the eye.

I had turned 21 yesterday and my boyfriend dumped me the morning of because I was being too “clingy”. He was leaving in the afternoon, flying out across the country for some modelling jobs he’d landed and I was mildly upset he had to leave on my birthday. Meanwhile, Conor suprised me at my apartment, completely oblivious, with birthday champagne and a balloon he’d stuck a picture of his face on. It was his only free night because he had to fly out the next morning.

But he’d found me: mascara on my cheeks, crumpled pyjamas, and a fistful of tissues. He sat and listened so patiently before helping me clean up. Once I’d cried it out however, the inevitable happened. We popped the champagne, swore at my ex, drank the bottle between us, and then reached for each other. Because of loneliness or our long history, we ended up in bed. My bed. And I wish I hadn’t drank so much so I could remember even half of it but as soon as I woke up I knew I fucked up. I was simultaneously heartbroken over my ex and absolutely gutted that my first time with Conor was under circumstances like this.

"You were comforting me. We’re both adults now and we made an adult decision right? It’s fine.” I sit up, making sure the blankets were wrapped tight around my torso. Conor looks at me hesitantly, his hands dropping to the side and he looks just as gutted. We weren’t supposed to let this happen. Not like this. We knew eventually we would sleep together with all the sexual tension we had between us-but never ever like this. This felt cheap…we could barely even remember it.

“So you’re okay I have to go again?” Conor asks slowly.

“I’m fine. You have a life to go back to.” I say more confidently than I felt-I didn’t want to be clingy again. And what would I even say if I wasn’t okay? It was a stupid question to ask. “And my shift starts in a couple hours anyway-acting doesn’t pay the bills!”

Conor throws his shirt on before sitting beside me. He looks down at my hands clasped around the covers and then my collar where the pendant I always wore rests. He picks it up and rubs it like I usually did when I was nervous. It was hard to reconcile the person Conor put on in public to this gentler version of him in my bedroom. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’ll see you on the big screen soon enough.”

“You’ll only see me when I’m good enough,” I give him a wry smile, calling him out. He drops the necklace, his hand curving around the back of my neck. For a split second I think he was maybe going to kiss me again but he kisses my forehead instead. I close my eyes, stretching the brief millisecond into an hour, or two, or five. I create some alternate timeline where I can do this all over, so that when Conor kisses my forehead it doesn’t feel cheap with regret and stink of pity.

Fourteen Months Later: “It’s nothing!” I pull my hand out of Malia’s grip but she grabs my hand again.

“You call that a promise ring?” She asks skeptically of the diamond ring my boyfriend had gifted me yesterday evening.

“Promise ring?” Anth asks as he comes back with Conor who’d arrived late-a bad habit we’d all gotten used to. I try to stuff my hand back into my hoodie but Conor catches the light glinting off the diamond. I don’t want to see his expression but I can’t help but watch as it falls, a look of betrayal settling in. It wasn’t my fault-not really. Conor and I kept up a false pretense of being friendly after the last time we saw each other but we unravelled quickly the longer we went without addressing it. How could we be the same when we suddenly carried so much baggage?

Our relationship suffered. Meanwhile, my boyfriend came back to LA on his knees begging for forgiveness. He had been stressed out about his shoots and he regretted our breakup as soon as he’d landed at JFK. So I kept my own regret from that night to myself and taken him back. A month in and we’d moved to New York for the year where he modelled and I miraculously landed a very small Broadway part. When we moved back, he’d given me the promise ring. That was last night. Malia messaged me this morning to tell me the gang was in town and we were meeting up again. I didn’t realise Conor would be there too. Our conversations had fizzled out once he realised I’d moved to New York with my boyfriend.

“Y/N’s settling down,” Anth teases. “Y/B/N is making a wife out of you!”

“It’snot an engagement ring guys!” I insist but it sounds false even to me. It was supposed to be one. But the look of horror on my face when my boyfriend got on one knee at the beach had him stuttering and then insisting it was just a promise ring. So I had accepted like the coward I was because I was too scared to be on my own again. Three years of our relationship and Anth was right-I wassettling.

“That’s a big ass diamond,” Conor jokes but it has a sharp edge to it. “Good for you. So uh-I’m getting a drink.”

When I track Conor down, away from the group, he’s stony faced.

“It’s been a while.” I say, feeling like that first night we met when I didn’t know how to talk to him.

“Yeah,” his eyes flick down to my hand. “A lot’s happened it seems.”

“Con-” I try.

“I’m alright.” Conor cuts me off.

“No. You’re not.” I call him out.

He clenches his jaw, glancing at me and then sighing. “I know we fucked up Y/N but why did we just stop talking? You’re bloody engaged and why am I only finding out now? I’ve never even met your boyfriend!”

“It-I know-it’s complicated. We…complicated things!”

“It shouldn’t be complicated! It was just sex!” Conor shouts. “It wasn’t complicated! I’m still your friend!”

“Right…” I look down and try to blink away the sudden tears. That all it was to him? “Right. Yeah of course…obviously-duh! It was! I just got…I was unsure! I didn’t know what you thought about it. But I’m cool if you are. We’re still friends?”

“Yes we’re still fucking friends!” Conor is instantly a ball of sunshine as we slip off our past like an oversized, stuffy jacket. I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, trying to toss out the confused emotions I was feeling. Conor squeezes my hand and I snap out of my thoughts to his smiling face and when he looks at me it feels like that night, I first saw him smiling under sodium lights. When we wouldn’t even know this was how we would turn out. I wish I could go back then. Maybe tell Y/N to keep things simple.

As his mouth moves to tell me something, I can’t focus as my head buzzes with the words he’d said earlier. But maybe it’s better this way, I think. I didn’t want to end up hating Conor, or be hurt by him, when I cared for him this much. I would just have to see it his way, I decide. Just sex. Only friends. “-always your friend.”

One Year Later: “Happy birthday!” I shout at Conor. He was in LA for his 24th and the party was massive. Like this-many-people-could-never-fit-in-my-house massive. “Look at you! You’re so spoiled now!”

Conor crushes me against him-it had been a good six months since I’d seen him. I was travelling all over for a movie I’d gotten a small role in and barely had time to see friends let alone Conor. I missed his energy. And he was super famous now too. Somewhere between seeing him last on New Year’s, breaking up with my boyfriend and moving out, auditioning like crazy, and finding a role-Conor had blown up online and my heart swelled every time I saw his ad or his music somewhere. Despite our messy mishap, I’d realigned myself to realise Conor and I could only ever befriends.

“I love your jumper,” I say-the term an inside joke by now.

“This is actually a hoodie.” Conor teases.

“Fuck I can never get the terminology right!” I laugh and wrap my arms around him again, his “hoodie” a snug fabric to rest my head on.

“Y/N.” Conor says seriously so I look at him again, concerned. “Y/N I-I think I’m finally good!” Conor shouts in my ear and when I give him a questioning look he explains. “My music! I think it’s finally good enough!”

“Oh Conor,” I can’t help but grab his face between my hands and squish his cheeks. “It was always good enough!”

Conor laughs causing his face between my hands to morph oddly so I let go. “You’re not as much of a bitch as you used to be!”

“Watch your mouth!” I pull his hood over his head and continue tugging it over his face until he apologizes between laughter. When I let go, he takes off the hood and wraps his arm around my shoulder. We stay that way for the rest of the night as he introduces me to everyone we meet. They all assume I’m his girlfriend, joking with me that I should watch out. And I didn’t blame them with the way Conor’s hand was always on my shoulder or my waist, my hips, touching my hair, leaning in to say something in my ear. I crave his touch every time I don’t have it and by the end of the night, I feel drunk on desire more than any of the cocktails I’d had. So when Conor looks at me with a question in his eyes at the end of the night, I don’t call him out. I simply take his hand and go back home with him. Just sex. Only friends. Always friends.

Eighteen Months Later: Since Conor’s 24th, we’d made a routine. Unless one of us were in a relationship, every time Conor was in LA, he would stop by. We’d catch up on life and then end up in bed for however long he was here for.

“I’m only in LA for two week.” He would say. Or “I go to New York next week.” Or “I have a flight on Thursday for Dubai.”

It wasn’t permanent, he meant to remind me. It wasn’t a relationship. It was just sex. And we were just friends. And this was just a bad habit. Or a good habit-was there such a thing? I always looked forward to it. It felt like we were each other’s safe space, a secret the other held close to their chest. Minus the emotional attachments of course. It happened so often like this that I’d forgotten I ever wanted more. Being like this actually gave us more time to catch up on every detail of each other’s lives. We opened up about our insecurities, our goals, and all our shared memories. When Conor was staying longer he would work on things in the same room I was in or he would help me practice lines and we created small bubbles in time where everything was blissful between us as long as we were together. It was harder some days than others like when I wanted to kiss him in public or gush to my friends about him-but it was worth it to be close again.

Months Later: I had my first anxiety attack that morning. I didn’t even realise I was having it until my knees hit the carpet and I tried to look up at the time.

I had a big audition that afternoon for a children’s movie. My agent was so sure I was going to get it-she’d talked me up to every friend she had in high places and knew the company hiring so I knew I had it in the bag yet a movie on such a scale was terrifying. Conor had told me he was coming over after auditions to see how it went and I was oddly nervous to see him too-I’d gotten out of a short relationship so it had been a while since Conor and I got together. And then my mom called me worried about my brother who’d been making all the wrong choices in life as of of late which kept running through my mind. So when my agent called to tell me they wanted a Skype interview now,I knewthat usually meant it was a courtesy interview and they didn’t actually want me. I did the interview with a really bad connection, my anxiety heightening with every scene looking at their impassive expressions. As soon as it ended, I ignored my agen’t phone call and suddenly found it hard to breath, my vision narrowing as everything looked off, and the room tilted around me. I fell to my knees and located my phone, calling the only person I knew who’d understand: Conor.

By the time he arrived, I had managed to calm down but I still couldn’t take a deep breath nor could I talk in full sentences. Conor squeezed my hands and helped ground me until I could focus and then he’d gathered me in his arms so carefully, so lovingly, that it scared me enough to start crying. He mistook this for being sad about not getting the part and helped me to bed, setting up his laptop beside me. I didn’t correct him, falling asleep as I felt exhausted, and awakening to a vibrating hum.

I don’t open my eyes, anxiety clutching my chest as I remembered where I was and what had happened. But the humming beside me helped, the dread slowly unravelling it’s hold on me. When I do open my eyes Conor’s concentrated on the screen as he hums the same few lines again and again. And the tenderness with which I felt towards him sends me tipping into the panic zone so I get up and yank the covers off. I couldn’t do this. We said we wouldn’t.

“Hey you’re up,” Conor looks at me. “I’m gonna hum something does it sound like something you’ve already heard or is it-”

“You have to go.” I say abruptly and he stops talking immediately. “I need to be alone Conor please go. Now.”

He stays for a heartbeat before closing his screen and getting out of bed. His mouth opens to say something but he looks at me and closes it, bowing his head and moving out the door. I listen as he leaves and take a deep ragged breath. I felt wild, like a frantic ball of confused energy was buzzing within me like a pinball machine. Like a panic attack hangover and as soon as Conor goes I want him back. I make it so far to the front door when I retreat until my back hits the wall. What was I doing? But I craved the comfort of his touch and it urged me to call him back. I couldn’t though. He wasn’t my boyfriend, I couldn’t keep doing this. But the sudden sound of a knock at the door echos my pounding heartbeat.

I carefully open it to Conor, running his fingers through his hair. I barely register what he says; opening the door wider, just wanting him back in. He drops his bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him. In an instant, his hand finds my waist, our foreheads touch, our eyes locked. It felt like we were the center of a volcano of passion and desire, boiling as his hand tightens on my waist, bubbling as my hand slips around the the base of his neck, simmering and leaking as I close my eyes and he crashes his lips into mine.

I can’t remember what happens next-not chronologically. We’re bumping into walls and shedding the day, as well as our clothes, and as we ease into the sheets the volcano bursts with hot molten lava, destroying anything that was ever left of us before.

I must have nodded off again right after because I wake to Conor in bed facing me. Behind him, my window shows streaks of pinks in the sky as day goes down to dusk. Conor’s eyes are watching me carefully, his expression unreadable as he watches me watch him. I trace the bridge of his nose to distract him but he continues staring, something budding in the way he looks at me. It was scaring me and I tell him so.

Yet Conor doesn’t take his eyes off of me, his thumb brushing my cheek and my breath catches as I realise why I was so scared. His eyes hold no trace of its usual playful spark. Instead they’re unguarded and clear as day with what he was thinking. Shit. This was it. This was the end. We’d both fallen. Made this something important.

“When are you leaving LA?” I ask, almost begging him to reply with a deadline to our romance for some sort of normalcy. The only way this worked was when he put a time stamp for us to stop waking up in each other’s arms. Even if it was one month or one week we would have the most fun as the end date was our safety net.

But when he shrugs and continues to gaze at me, my heart feels like it would burst from my chest. And it practically does as all the hopes I ever ignored of Conor and I as something more than friends, all the fantasies I ever had of Conor wanting more with me, the thoughts I suppressed before they could even manifest-shoving them into a dark corner of my mind-roll forward and flash before me. This was Conor-the first person I think I ever fell in love with. And I can admit it to myself now, looking at him-at us, like this. This was Conor-how could I have ever thought we could be anything but in love in the end? So I remove Conor’s hand from my face and hold it to my chest, willingly showing him how much I was feeling in the moment. “I feel it now, can you feel it too?” Conor takes my other hand with his free hand and places it against his own palpitations. My own races faster; was this our demise?

“I feel it too.” Conor answers slowly.

“But this is exactly what we said we wouldn’t do.” I remind him. What he said we wouldn’t do. What we weren’t.

“What was that exactly?” Conor asks me and his mouth flicks up in a slow smile as the playfulness returns in the blink of an eye. He’s weightless as he rolls over me and brings his lips down in a kiss so tender, I never realised he had it in him. When he moves away, he rests his forehead against mine, his lips a hair’s breadth away from my own. The look he gives me is a challenge, a dare like we would give when we were younger. His brown eyes looking into mine are daring me just one simple thing:

Call me out.