Puck The Halls | Jack Hughes

TEN

MIRACLE
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WE'VE BEEN AT THE SAME CLUB for two hours and I'm bored. The same people filter around and the same drinks flow around the booth we're in. I'd been sitting beside America for the past twenty minutes, playing fuck, marry, kill as we point out various people in the club.

It's her turn next.

"Okay," she shouts, clapping her hands together. "Quinn, Luke . . . "

She trails off, thinking as she taps her chin, but I already know where this is going.

"Jack!" She grins, evil as ever.

I give her a look. "Really, Mer? Jack?"

She only smiles in response. Sighing, I take this as an indication that there was no way of getting out of this one. One of the Hughes brothers would have to be killed off.

"Fine," I huff, taking a large gulp of my vodka cran. "Fuck Quinn, marry Jack, kill Lucas."

"What?" She shouts, eyes wide and smile huge. "You'd kill Luke and fuck Quinn?"

"Well I'm not about to screw Luke, so yes," I giggle. "Besides, Quinn is a secret sex god I just know it."

"I have to agree," she nods. "It's always the quiet ones."

We're suddenly laughing, and Jack raises a single eyebrow at us, ripping his attention from Z and Cole as they chat on the other side of the booth. I copy his actions, raising my eyebrow right back, not realising he'd take that as his queue to excuse himself from the boys and dramatically flop in the space beside me in the booth, his arm lazily thrown over my shoulder.

"What are you two trouble makers giggling about, huh?" He asks, smirking.

I turn to America, my eyes pleading, she takes no notice. "Just playing fuck, marry, kill. You wouldn't believe which Hughes brother Mira would marry!"

"Here we go," I mumble.

"Oh?" Jack smirks, his tone teasing. "Let me guess, Quinn. He's husband material."

"Nope," America grins. "Try again."

Jack squints. "Luke?"

America shakes her head, Jack turns to me in disbelief that I half think is mocking. I roll my eyes.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Hughes. It's only because I'd rather fuck Quinn."

Absolute lies.

"Tell yourself whatever you need, baby girl," he grins, getting too close for comfort. "We all know it's because you think I'm husband coded."

"Go away," I tease, pushing at his chest, my cheeks tinged pink, like they always are when Jack was around.

Jack doesn't move, in fact, he gets closer, pressing his lips to my earlobe. "Doesn't it mean we'd get to fuck every day if we were married?"

I glare at him, unimpressed. He flashes me a million-dollar smile. "So you do wanna screw me?"

"No."

I'm frowning, my arms crossed over my chest and a scowl on my face, Jack is enjoying himself way too much. He leans in for one final comment, whispered to me at a husk, almost a growl.

"Not how it seemed in the Uber when my hand was between your legs."

I choke on my drink, making myself a hundred times more flustered than Jack already had. He was still grinning, smug and cocky and unfortunately, beautiful.