𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃, jeremiah fisher

fourteen. conversations in the dark

He lets out a laugh, his eyes catching on something on my wall. "Just like Big Time Rush over there was your entire childhood."

Looking over, I spot my autographed Big Time Rush poster which I hung up on my wall when I was like ten.

I glare at the blonde boy on my bed. "Shut up. At least I didn't have an obsession with Total Drama Island."

Jeremiah gasps. "How dare you?! That show is pure genius. It is my sole reason for living."

I shake my head in amusement, laughing at him. He smiles.

"Wanna hang out today?" he asks, stretching across my bed.

My heart skips a beat, making it that much more difficult to say no.

"I can't," I reply apologetically. "I have a family party to go to."

He pouts. "Can I come? I've got nothing to do today."

The question catches me by surprise, and I hesitate because I'm unsure about how to respond.

"Please?" He implores. "Pretty please? We're friends now, aren't we?"

I sigh, finally relenting. "Fine."

He grins and gets up from the bed. "Yes! I need to go get dressed! Is it formal?"

"Yeah. We're leaving at five, so be back before then."

He gives me a thumbs-up and then skips over to the window. He looks back to wink at me.

"See you at five, Fall."

I narrow my eyes. "I swear to God, Fisher, if you start calling me that—"

"I can't hear you!"

He slips out of my room through the window without a glance back. I have to fight the smile on my face.

꘏

MY DRESS IS on, my makeup is done, and my hair is set. I look at myself through the mirror and smile. I feel pretty.

A noise on the other side of the room makes me look over to find Jeremiah climbing in through the window again, this time wearing a suit.

"You do know the front door is an option, right?" I tease as I stand up.

He doesn't respond.

He's staring at me. His eyes dart all over my face, down the length of my body, all the way to the heels that wrap around my ankles. I look down at myself.

"What?" I ask him. "Do I look bad?"

No sound leaves his lips. For a second, I think he's finally going to say something. Do something. Anything.

But he doesn't.

He looks away, flexing his jaw. "You...you're good."

I blink. "Oh. Okay. Good."

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling a little disappointed even though I shouldn't. My eyes stray to my vanity where there is a necklace on display—the one my grandma got me for my sixteenth birthday. Right, one last thing to put on and then I'm ready.

I reach for the necklace and wrap it around my neck. I try to slide the hook into the loop, but it doesn't go in. I let out a groan when I try again and it doesn't work. I hear a chuckle from behind me and then footsteps. I turn to glare at him to which he laughs.

He stands right behind me and pushes my hair aside. He holds out his hand for the necklace. Not breathing, I place it in the palm of his waiting hand. He wraps it around my neck and clasps it behind. I feel his hot breath on the base of my neck. It burns almost as much as it would if he were holding a match against my skin.