Puck The Halls | Jack Hughes

TWENTY THREE

"You're touching Miracle the way only—"

"What?" Quinn cut him off. "The way only you're allowed to? News flash, Jack, Miracle isn't yours."

This again.

Jack rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know exactly how I feel about her, so why would you even touch her like that to begin with?"

"Because other people are allowed to love her, Jack, she's my family, my little sister, if I want to hold her hand because you—the person who's meant to be in love with her—won't, then I fucking will."

Jack goes bright red, and I'm fairly sure it's because of Quinn's use of the phrase in love with her. My own cheeks flare as Jack and I make direct eye contact across the back seat. My heart is in my throat and I can tell, just by looking at him, that he feels somewhat the same. He fidgets in his seat, clearing his throat as he tears his gaze away, and out the window.

"Okay," he breathes, not wanting to argue anymore, and I have a secret suspicion it's because he's been caught out, but I don't allow myself to get my hopes up.

Quinn roles his eyes, right as Ellen pulls into a McDonalds. "Good."

We all file out of the car, Quinn throwing an arm around Jack's shoulders as they walk behind Ellen, Luke and myself, seemingly in the middle of a deep conversation that has Quinn shaking his head and Jack looking at his shoes. I try to ignore the feeling that it's about me, and instead focus on ordering my breakfast.

Half an hour later, we're back in the car again, this time, Quinn sits against the window, forcing me to take the middle seat, much to my disappointment. I was forced to be beside Jack and we still hadn't said a word to each other since we'd left.

We still don't talk, we don't even look at each other. Not even when Jack pulls out his phone and starts watching a hockey game, not even when I put my headphones in and press play of a song I know he likes. Not even when I fall asleep and accidentally lull my head on his shoulder. But, it doesn't matter, because he's asleep too, and his own head droops to rest on top of mine, our shoulders meeting and my body falling into his chest, so that we're pressed together in a way that I'd blush about if I was awake.

Luke takes a photo, shares it to Instagram.

I've moved again by the time we reach New York City, my body now slouched in the chair, my chin to my chest and my arms held close to my chest. Jack is awake, which means maybe he was the one to move me.

I'm shaken awake when we reach the hotel where the wedding is at, thinking that maybe it's Quinn who wakes me, but it's not. It's Jack. He's looking at me with wide innocent eyes and this puppy dog pout that I'm a sucker for. I can't fucking look away. He reaches a hand out, tucking a strand of stray hair behind one of my ears and allowing his fingers to trail over the skin of my cheek.

"Come on," he whispers. I nod.

I follow the Hughes family inside the lobby, waiting on one of the couches with the other boys as Ellen checks us in.

Jack and I share an armchair, squished in so that our thighs touch but we still haven't said a word to each other besides Jack's encouragement to follow him inside the hotel. I wanted to speak to him, I just didn't really know how. I felt like our arguments was over, that we both wanted to move on, but it was still tense between us, and I didn't know what needed to happen in order to make that go away.

Ellen appears back in front of us again, smiling brightly as she hands Luke a key card, then hands me one too.

I look at her, utterly confused.

"I booked rooms back when Jack first told me he was bringing you," she explained, sighing. "You and Jack have a room together, Luke and America have a room together, Quinn's in with the other groomsmen, I'm in a single."

"Oh," I tell her flatly. What she meant was, you can't share a room with me.

"It's okay, Miracle," she tells me. "You and Jack are in a double."

"Okay," I smile, trying to plaster a smile on my face. I should just be grateful for the fact that she'd even paid for a room for me at all.

"You guys are a floor below us," she tells me, then looking to Jack, she says: "the wedding is in two hours, don't be late. It's in the ballroom, and Jack, brush your hair."

He blushes, but nods regardless, turning on his heels and snatching the room key from his mother's fingers. He doesn't wait for me as he heads for the elevators in the far left of the lobby, and so I have to jog a little to catch up with him, frowning as I notice how tense he is. Was it because of the whole sharing a room thing?

We don't have to share if he doesn't want to, I'm sure America wouldn't mind rooming with me, he could share with Luke. No worries, no harm done.

We stand side by side, waiting for the elevator.

"Jack," I whisper, turning to him, my chest hammering. "We don't have to share a room, I can—"

"No."

That's all he says, it's all he gives me. No. No? What the hell did that even mean? He didn't even know where I was going with that. Still, the front on his face and the way his fists are clenching and unclenching has me not wanting to speak again, and so I stay quiet.

The elevator ride to our floor is silent, painfully so, to the point I want to rip my hair out, or scream, or fuck him senseless just so I can get a reaction out of him.

It feels like years before we reach our room, right at the end of the hall, and for some reason as Jack is swiping his key card, my heart begins to sink to my feet. I feel clammy, odd, out of place, like something is going to go terribly and completely wrong.

And I'm absolutely right, because as we walk into the hotel bedroom that's supposed to be a double, we realise pretty quickly that double doesn't mean seperate sleeping spaces, because there's only one fucking bed.

Jack and I stand side by side at the entry way, both staring at the perfectly made double bed staring right back at us, teasingly so.

"Well, fuck," I whisper.

Jack sighs. "Fuck."