𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃, jeremiah fisher

twelve. friends

I WALK INTO work with a 5 Seconds of Summer baseball cap hung low on my head. It's been a few days since the surfing competition, and although I'm beyond thrilled about the progress Jeremiah and I have made, I'm also sort of on the verge of running in front of a moving vehicle.

What Calvin and Amelia said is still ringing in my head, and I'm embarrassed that Jeremiah heard all of that. Part of me feels my heart melt whenever I think about him standing up for me, while the other self-conscious part is afraid of what he'll think of me.

Though I know that's stupid because over the last few weeks, it seems as if he is one of the only people in the world who doesn't judge me.

In the few hours I've been working, I've caught him looking over at me a dozen times. I know he has something to say, but I keep ignoring him and telling myself I'll talk to him later.

Well, now is later.

Because, apparently, Steven has noticed the weird tension between us and can't deal with it anymore.

"That's it," he says, sending me a look before calling out to Jeremiah who has his back turned to face the water. "Jeremiah!"

He looks behind him and sees us sitting at the snack bar. His eyebrows raise as his eyes find mine. I divert my attention down to my cuticles. He starts walking over, and I lift my head to glare at Steven who shoots me a lopsided grin.

"What's up?" Jeremiah greets. I feel his stare on the side of my head, but I keep my eyes locked on the sandwich sitting on the counter.

"I need a couple of mops from the storage closet. Do you and Rosie mind getting them for me please?"

Telepathically, I tell Steven that I'm literally going to kill him. He ignores my murderous gaze.

"Yeah, sure," the blonde boy beside me answers. He turns toward me and gestures over his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Nodding, I send Steven one last glare and then stand up to follow Jeremiah.

"Thanks guys!"

He sounds way too pleased with himself.

We're quiet on the way over to the storage room. I'm turning over what to say to him in my head to erase this tension, and I'm sure he's doing the same. When we reach the room, he holds the door open for me and I mumble a quick thank you as I walk in.

We're both inside near where the mops are kept when the door shuts behind us. Sharing a look, Jeremiah goes to try the doorknob.

The door doesn't budge.

"Fuck," he mutters before trying it again.

Steven Conklin, when I find you, I will make sure you never have a peaceful night of sleep ever again.

I walk up beside him and start banging on the door in case someone is outside and can hear. Jeremiah joins me, but we have no luck.

"Looks like we might be stuck in here for a while," he states.

I blow out a breath. "Looks like it."

I spare him a single glance before going to stand on one side of the room near where the mops are located. He follows suit and stands on the opposite side in front of me.

He rubs the back of his neck. "About the other day..."

He trails off, and I figure that he wants me to say something first.

I clear my throat. "Thank you for...you know. Defending me. I'm sorry about them. They've always been like that."

I try to laugh it off, but he doesn't seem to find it funny.