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link: spoti.fi/3kjXoxO
ME AND MICHAEL | MGMT
THE NIGHT ME & YOUR MAMA MET | CHILDISH GAMBINO
FIRE OF LOVE | JESSE JO STARK
SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT | NIRVANA
With the leaves beginning to change colors and fall, so was she, because there wasn't a minute in her days where she wasn't thinking about Harry. Despite what had happened on Halloween weekend, she adored him, more than anyone else on the planet, and she knows he felt bad for what he did, she could see it all over his face. She could tell he doesn't give out apologies very often, he sounded weird and unlike himself when he was saying sorry to her, but she took it, because it was way more than what she was used to being offered when someone did her wrong.
But now it was November, the trees were becoming bare, the wind was getting colder, and despite how much she loved the summertime, she loved the fall as well. She loved the holidays, the celebrations and the socialization. She loved the snow, and the winds and the rain just as much. She loved the way everything changed, and this year, she had one of the biggest life changes hand in hand with a small swing and comforting squeezes. Her nose was beginning to blush just like his own, but nothing stood a chance to the pink hue that burned the skin of her cheeks when he would press his lips to her own.
She was laughing at a story he was telling her, one from work with an insufferable customer that he made his own personal laughing stock, and she couldn't help but giggle too. He opens the door for her, letting her walk inside the quaint diner first before he follows, albeit their hands never come unclasped. There's a young hostess ready to seat them, grabbing two of the laminated menus with a smile before guiding them to one of the open booths that they both slide into. He sits across from her, letting the hostess tell them the specials in a rehearsed manner, but it didn't matter because neither of them were truly listening.
The hostess soon leaves them be, or really leaves them to let them be engrossed in each other like before, and it wasn't until a waitress came by did they order anything: a sugary Coke and an even sweeter lemonade. He reaches across the table whenever she sets the menu down, grabbing at her hand before swiping his thumb across the row of knuckles pushing against her skin. It's a habit he's picked up when they're in these situations, when in waiting games, he wastes his time on her, albeit it's not much of a waste when his eyes are so blessed.
"Know what you want?" She asks with her eyes peering up to meet his own, and as a smirk crawls along his lips, a glint of mischief sparkles in his eyes before he answers.
"Always."
"I'm talking about the food, Harry." She tells him with a slight scold to her words, although she continues on before he can reply. "Would you eat some of my burger if I got one? I'm not sure I can eat the whole thing." She asks in concern, as if the world would end if she left food on her plate, so he nods, despite whether it was a truthful answer or not.
The sweater hung from her shoulders was his, tucked into the belt rimmed jeans that hugged her waist, and with the sleeves rolled up, it still smelled like him. The sight of her dressed in a piece of him tugged on the weak strings of his heart, and he usually doesn't like people wearing his things or using his shit, but like everything else, it made a world of difference when Josephine was the one doing the using. She looked amazing today, and despite her summer tan fading into the beginning of autumn, her skin still glowed with every smile she gave him with her pink, full lips that he was freshly addicted to.
"Can I ask you something?" She speaks up, tearing him out of his daze.
"Depends." He smirks at her teasingly, earning a quick eye roll from her before she continues on with her burning question.
"Thanksgiving is coming up," She says, "I mean, it's at the end of this month, but you don't celebrate that, do you? I know it's an American thing, but I was just thinking about it, and—"
"Well, don't choke on it, J, spit it out." He chuckles with her hand still in his, causing her to gently laugh too with a small shake of her head.
"I was just wondering . . . if you're not going to spend it with anyone, you could come over for dinner?" She asks, and before he can even think about it, she keeps speaking. "You can say no if you want to, I just didn't want you to be by yourself, and I think my Dad already kinda knows about us, but I'm not sure. I mean, you're kinda friends with Johnny too, right? I don't know maybe—"
She rambles and rambles before he presses on to his tippy toes, leaning over the table separating them just to conjoin again, and with his lips smashed against her own, it takes all of him and then some to not stick his tongue to the fleshy walls of her mouth. They're always so warm, especially when wrapped around his throbbing cock, but now he has to pull apart, sit back down, and thank the waitress for his soda that won't taste nearly as good as her lips.
"Kitten, I'd love to spend a Thursday evening eating dinner with you and your family—only if we can play footsies under the table." He requests, only to do the same now with his foot tapping against her own as she giggles in amusement. With the waitress ready to take their orders, he recites it for the both of them and she doesn't open her mouth to speak once, only to sip down some of the sugary lemonade that almost tastes as good as her grandmother's. It's not until their menus are taken from the table and the waitress leaves does the topic pick back up again from Harry's end. "Also, why do you think your Dad knows? Enlighten, please."
"He asked if you were nice to me."
"Randomly." He challenges with one of his brows cocked, as if he didn't believe that was the circumstance.
"Well . . . no." She sighs, running a hand through her hair while the other was wrapped around the glass of lemonade, her face dressed with a look of deep thought while trying to decipher whether her father knows much of anything. "I accidentally let it slip that I was at your house, and I made up something to cover it, and then he asked if you were nice to me."
She looked stressed, mainly because she was when it came to this topic, because unlike most teenagers she knew, the opinion of her father actually held some value to her. She adored Harry, she loved her father, and the mere thought of being put between them twisted her stomach in ways she didn't like. Her father was understanding, it's the easiest way to parent a teenage girl, but Harry was Harry—six feet tall, smothered in tattoos and a charming smile that had any girl to their knees. He was also the poster child for bad news to any sane father, which is why she was so anxious and troubled when it came to the idea of her father being aware of her relationship with Harry.
"He's probably just concerned about who you're spending your time with, kitten." He assures her, tearing her out of her cycle of thoughts that had been running since her father posed the question. "Not that he should be, but I get it."
"So, what should I do?"
"What do you wanna do?"
"Tell him."
"Yeah?" Harry smiles, albeit it's a subtle one, testing out her sincerity with his question, but when she nods her head while swallowing down her anxiety, he lets his smile widen and flourish along his lips. "I promise, I'll be good, alright? At least in front of your Dad, I dunno about when he's not around . . ." He trails off, causing her head to slowly shake while contrasting the smile fighting it's way on to her lips.
"Don't make me regret my decision."
"I'll even tell him, if you want me to." He suggests with a playful smirk, "Hey, um, so I know you know me from the guy across the street, but to your daughter, I'm the guy in her sheets—"
"Harry, cut it out!" She hisses, cheeks as red as raspberries with her lips tugged into a ghost of a smile, scorn to laugh at his antics, albeit he knew she was amused deep down inside.
"'m sorry, J, how about this one: you might've been her Daddy for the past eighteen years, but 'm gonna take over from here—ow!" He gingerly laughs with a flinch when feeling her nimble fingers reach under the table to pinch him through his pants. "I know you wanna get in my pants, kitten, but that's no way to do so."
"I swear, they must've spiked your drink or something . . ." She mumbles and shakes her head, although the smile on her lips lets him know exactly how she feels. "but really, if I tell my Dad about us, I hope it goes well. He was so against me dating Derek for a long time—"
"Well, yeah. He looks like a bitch." He remarks, earning a look from her that sends his playful attitude diminishing. "It's gonna be fine, alright? Smooth as fuck, I promise. He's a cool dude, wish he was my Dad, if 'm honest—but really, babe, if he knows we're spending time together and had an issue with it, he would've expressed it a while ago."
"You're right." She slowly nods, only before watching him reach across the table to steal a sip of her drink. "But I mean, for starters, don't call yourself Daddy in front of my father."
"And everywhere else?" He quips once swallowing down the stolen lemonade that he wanted to taste from her mouth too.
"We'll see, we'll see." Her mumbled response sends his head wildly spinning, tilting his head to the side as he studies her and gets a good idea of how the filthy pet name would sound spilling from her swollen lips. Daddy. He would be a bold faced liar if he said he hadn't given it thought, ever since the first time he dove between her legs to get a sweet taste of her soul, he had been dying to hear the name fall from her tongue, knowing it would sound so much nastier coming from her than from the last random girl he fucked. Granted, he couldn't even remembered what that girl looked like, especially when Josephine took so much space up in his mind that seemed to be nonrefundable. "Wait, you're okay with that, right?"
"With being called Daddy?" He clarifies with a twitch to his brows, "I mean, you can call me anything you want, but I'd very much enjoy it if you—"
"No, with me telling my Dad." She shakes her head, waving off his antics, and a sense of seriousness falls on to them like an invisible weight.
"I've got no problem, whatever you want." He says, because in actuality, no one really matters nor do their opinions, including Josephine's father. "Enough talking about that shit, you feeling up for a little fun once we're outta here?"
"What kind of fun do you have in mind?" In her effervescent eyes, he can see where her head is at, wanting his own between her legs, and while he has every intention of ending up there sometime within the day, it's not what he had planned.
It was on Monday when he heard of the town's annual Fall Festival, hearing his co-workers bitch and complain about having to take their significant others there, although with how they were speaking, these women didn't seem to be very significant to them. But he blocked that out, because while he was always more than content to have Josephine rolling around in his sheets and eating out of his refrigerator, he had a feeling she wants more than that. Their relationship was anything but orthodox, stemming from unusual circumstances and fascinating odds that had his mind spinning every day, but what he did know was Josephine, and Josephine likes corny ass shit . . . like something called a Fall Festival.
Personally, he would rather drop dead from any vicious disease than look at pumpkins and be surrounded by the rest of Chagrin Falls, but he could just see the smile on Josephine's face now and it was the only thing pushing him to go. That, and just being in her presence. It might be a bit of a backwards belief, it might be a bit dick-ish of him, but existing in the same plane as Josephine is what brought ninety-nine percent of his minimal amount of serotonin. He had only a little, but she was his sole source—her, and that one episode of Cops he watches back just to laugh. But sometimes he thinks it's a bit selfish of him, because after spending years in his solemn state of solitude with his stagnant emotions or lack thereof, he gets as much Josephine time as he can, just to feel his body flood with a warmth he's been missing for majority of his life.
And he isn't sure if anyone else could make him feel the same way.
It's terrifying, because while her beautiful face is nothing but a catalyst for his happiness, looking into her eyes is like staring down the barrel of a gun. She can make or break him, in the most literal and metaphorical ways possible, and she doesn't even know. Being apart from her now was hard, seeing her cry was even more of a pain, and he has never had to deal with these kinds of things before. He likes to think he's doing good, apart from the situation on Halloween weekend, but she was still here with him, swinging her legs back and forth with a giddy smile on her lips when spotting her food, so he takes a deep breath and shakes himself out of his mile long train of thoughts.
"Is that something people do?" She asks him before swirling a french fry in ketchup and plopping it in her mouth, and he looks at her in a slight sense of confusion. He's unsure as to what she was referring to and assumes that he had missed something she said before that while overthinking and overanalyzing.
"The whole . . . Daddy thing." She trails off with a wave of her hand, mentioning it as if she was discussing any other topic, and it shocked him, nearly causing him to choke on the soda he was swallowing down. "What? Did I say something wrong?" She smiles when noticing his reaction, as if it flicked on her playful side while he shakes his head at her.
"Never, kitten," He softly chuckles once regaining his composure, "but no more talking about that, unless you wanna skip this and book it home." He tells her, causing her cheeks to rise in a flame of pink and he laughs once more before stealing one of her fries and eating it himself.
Her innocence is not lost on him, unknowing of a Daddy kink and oblivious to the most pleasurable part of herself, he almost feels bad for peeling her eyes wide, but at the same time, it's one of his favorite parts of life, so why let her be so blinded to it? It's a bittersweet notion, because he likes his sweet and docile Josephine, but he likes dirty words falling from her lips all the same. So far, he's lucky enough to have both in the warm, yet calloused palm of his hand.
"Taste good, kitten?" He asks her, nodding his head down to the burger she had taken a couple bites out of, and she nods her head in response, mouth full of food as she gently giggles under her breath.
"I should be asking you that," She chokes out once swallowing her food, "you're the newbie here."
"It's been three months since I moved here, J, I don't think 'm that much a newbie anymore." He chuckles with a shake of his head, although she seems stuck with her words and offers a tight lipped smile and a shrug.
"I think everyone in town would disagree." She says proudly, although to counteract her teasing, he reaches underneath the table to grab one of her knees, giving her leg a tight squeeze that sends her jumping and squealing across from him. "Cut it out, would you? No tickling."
"But your laugh is so pretty." His words almost shock her, but she smiles anyways and doesn't hesitate to lean over the table to press her lips to his own. He gently wraps his hand around her neck before she can back away, giving himself the proximity to kiss her one and two more times before she sheepishly grins and sits back down in her seat. "We can't sit around here for too long, alright? We've got plans."
"Hm, wanna share?"
"Not necessarily." He mumbles and hears her scoff, causing him to glance up with a smirk. "You'll find out eventually, you little brat. Now, finish up or I'll do it for you." He tells her, watching the small pout on her lips diminish before she sighs and speaks up.
"I need to use the restroom, then I'll get to that." She tells him, sliding out of the booth with a small bounce, and presses her lips to the side of his head before walking away. She had been to this diner several times, knowing exactly where the restrooms were, and as she pushes the door open, it's vacant. She chooses the first stall, locking the door behind her with ease, and as she's surrounded by the four, cherry red walls, the door to the bathroom is swiftly opened, as well as a conversation surrounding her.
"—can't believe her Dad's okay with it." A woman comments, sounding older than she was, and while she couldn't put a face to the voice, she bites down on her bottom lip and continues on listening. "I get it, the guy's hot and all, but . . . I don't know, something about it just seems so weird."
"Do you know where he's from?" Another woman asks.
"Beats me." Someone sighs, "But if my Dad knew I was dating a twenty something year old when I was a teenager, I would've been locked in my room for all of eternity." The comment makes both of the random women laugh while she sits in the bathroom stall, breath held in her lungs while she stays silent.
"Same here, but you know how her family is . . ." My family? She asks herself, not seeing much of a problem, because yeah, her brother's a bit of a train wreck and her mother is practically nonexistent, but she doesn't think much of it. She never has, up until now, of course.
"Unstable? Yeah, I mean, it's really not her fault."
"Yeah."
And then they leave.
She finally escapes the bathroom stall with a pair of reddened cheeks and a frown on her lips, and as she washes her hands, she refrains from looking at herself, knowing it will only heighten her hurt feelings. She didn't know who was speaking of her, if it was someone she knew well or someone she knows about, but as she left the bathroom, she looks around the diner, wondering if she could spot a sour look or a side eye. Noting sticks out, and as she slides back into the booth in front of Harry, he notices her frown with ease and reaches across the table for her hand.
"What happened?" He asks her, "You fall in or something?"
"Just some women in the bathroom talking . . ." She trails off, shaking her head when noticing how silly it sounded aloud, "it's nothing, I'm done eating." She tells him, pushing her plate away from her and towards the center of the table, and she was really doing her best to not be so upset, but her emotions are malleable by nature and harsh opinions seemed to be the mallet to flatten her fun out.
"Wanna get outta here, kitten?" He asks her, earning a quick nod and a paranoid glance over her shoulder, and he's quick to make that happen.
Once their plates were cleared and the bill was paid, he does a good job of cheering her up and avoiding her curious questions, especially the sly ones that gives her a hint or clue as to where he's taking her, and even with her hand sliding up the denim covering his thigh, he doesn't give in. Points for Harry, he thinks to himself, because with her touch on his body, it takes a lot for him to not toss her in the backseat and ditch his original idea all together. But he doesn't give in, and it's deemed to be worth it as soon as her gasp cuts through the music playing from his radio, eyes wide while staring out the window, and with a smile on her lips, she turns to face him while she rests her hands on his forearm.
Burnt orange and blue skies is what takes his eyes first, along with pumpkins galore and a bunch of fucking families that Josephine probably knows. He parks the car quickly, letting her get her excitement out as she practically drags him out and towards the fun, albeit that was until she stops dead in her tracks, so suddenly with her hand holding on to his arm, and she turns to him with a sad look in her eyes that contradicted her initial reaction, the genuine one. He's sure it has to do with what happened in the bathrooms—he didn't ask about it, not wanting to dampen the day—but it seems like it already has, and he's ready to squash the problem.
"What's the matter, J?" He asks her, face to face as she peers up and him and flickers her eyes towards the masses behind him. "C'mon, kid, talk to me."
"There's just . . . a lot of people here." She murmurs with a pink set of cheeks.
"Yeah, like the whole damn town." He chuckles for a half second before noticing a glimmer of nervousness to her features, "Is it about what happened at the diner?"
"Kinda." She admits with a harsh swallow, "I just . . . some people are judgmental."
"True." He nods with a sigh, "But what does that have to do with us?"
"I don't know—"
"Look, if you wanna turn around and head home, I'd love nothing more than to make that happen. But you're so much better than a couple of prissy bitches who know nothing about either one of us." He tells her, and he comes of stern as he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, but it's for her own good. "And to be honest, sweet girl, I think that scented candle stand is calling your name." He murmurs through a growing smile, one that sends her frown shifting into a smile like his own before giving in and letting him kiss her.
"Okay, let's go."
And then they were off.
She grabs his hand like it's the last life raft in choppy waters, although the ocean is just a pool of her peers and he is a beacon in the midst of the oncoming judgement. Although, she tries her hardest to focus on what mattered—scented candles, caramel apples, Harry's smile, the cool breeze, the sunshine, funny looking pumpkins, funny looking Harry. It works, she doesn't think about the wandering eyes or the possibility of her father hearing about them before she can get a second to tell them, and it wasn't until hearing her name being called by a familiar voice does her attention get pulled from her day with Harry.
She spins on her heels as the grind the leaves into the ground, still holding on to Harry's hand as his other was preoccupied holding bags filled with things he had bought her, and as she searches for the source of her name, she sees Amanda. She looked pretty, dressed in burgundy with her family not too far behind, and while she wasn't the closest with Amanda, she wasn't going to not say hello. The Fall Festival was filled with many familiar faces, most she's says hello to or offered a kind wave, but Amanda was more of a friend now than an acquaintance, and it was clear from Amanda's reaction to seeing her that she felt the same way.
"Josie!" Amanda calls out with a warm, friendly smile, "I didn't know you'd be here today—well, Jennifer said you were spending the day with Harry, so . . . makes sense, I guess." Amanda thinks aloud, causing her to chuckle while looking up at Harry, only to see that he wasn't as amused as she was. She knew that he had some ill feelings towards her friends, especially after what had happened during Homecoming, but she knew he was merely protective of her—his actions on Halloween weekend proved that belief.
"Harry brought me—Harry, this is Amanda, we go to school together." She says, properly introducing the two of them, and while Amanda marvels up at him with intrigue in her eyes, Harry only offers a tight lipped smile and a small nod of his head. Her family comes behind, mother and father both sporting the same blonde hair Amanda does, and greet her with a smile while asking about how her father is. "He's well, working a lot, but that's typical of him." She answers, watching as Amanda's parents nod in understanding.
They speak briefly, only for a moment or two before her mother is tempted by one of the several stands and they part ways. Harry's cold shoulder couldn't be ignored even after Amanda walked away, she wasn't sure as to why he was so put off by Amanda, but she didn't ask, not wanting to ruin the day. She only grabs his hand tighter, letting her body lean into his own as they walk, and as the sun moves closer to the horizon, the air gets colder. It pinches at her skin until her cheeks are as pink as her lips, albeit nothing could shake her from the warmth that floods her body when feeling his lips press against her own.
His naturally intimidating aura and untouched attractiveness is something she notices often, knowing if she hadn't seen his softer parts, she would feel more inclined to run from him than to talk to him, and in the setting sun, she notices a glint of thought in his eyes. They were sat at one of the tables set up, sharing some eccentric drink that was too sweet, he claimed, and for the past five minutes, she's noticed that he doesn't notice her stare on him. But he's pretty, prettier than he knows, and she finds herself getting lost in the sight before he sighs heavily and clenches one of his hands on the table, the one that wasn't preoccupied in her own.
But then he blinks, tilting his head to the side to incite a subtle crack of his neck and she winces with a small smile.
"Does that not hurt?"
"No, feels good to me." He replies cooly and she hums, resting her chin in her palm and her elbow on the table. "What?"
"Nothing," She shakes her head, "what are you thinking about?" Instinctively, he clenches his jaw before taking notice of the innocent glimmer in her eyes, reminding himself that she just wants inside.
"Amanda."
"Well, what about her?" She quickly asks with an odd smile, simply because it was an odd, yet truthful answer. "She's pretty, isn't she? I mean, her Mom is too, I'm sure that's where she gets it from—"
"I just remember seeing her somewhere, 's all."
"She was one of the girls I went to Homecoming with," She reminds him once taking a sip of the sweet drink sat between them, "you probably saw her in the car."
Bingo, he thinks to himself, remembering spotting the girl in the passenger seat of whatever car Josephine got in, and it clicks. Her blue eyes, her honey blonde hair, the prominent cheekbones—she's the closest he's ever seen to resembling her. Josephine was right, Amanda was a pretty girl, but that was as important to him as her piss was. It was fucking useless, but the resemblance was what tilted him off of his axis, something the has spent many years trying to balance, only to be knocked over again by another blonde haired bitch.
"Ready to get outta here, kitten?" He asks her, not wanting to talk about Amanda any longer, especially with Josephine in his presence, and his shift in focus is what's saving him. She quickly nods her head, both of them knowing they can only last so much longer in the dropping temperatures, so once they toss the unfinished drink, they head towards the car and relish in the warm air once it gets kicking.
He doesn't mean to be distanced, or to come off in an aloof manner, but the familiar itch was back, antagonizing him under his skin, the same skin that Josephine some how lights on fire in the best way possible. Before Josephine, his life obtained a constant state of dullness, he felt the same way most of the time, he used his smile when necessary—not when it forced it's way on to his lips without any kind of control. It's weird, and unusual, but as his hand tightly clenches the steering wheel, he feels her hand rest along his leg, bringing him back to reality.
"Thank you for—um, everything today." She smiles at him, causing his eyes to drift towards her, and the sight of her alone sends his lips curling into a subtle smirk, albeit strong enough to let his dimples shine through. He doesn't respond verbally, but leans over the center console to press his lips to her own chastely, careful not to crash the car. He reaches down to his lap, keeping one hand on the wheel while he grabs her hand with the other, and runs his thumb along her knuckles.
"Wanna stay over tonight?" And maybe distract me from my own brain? He adds in his mind, to himself, but as she pouts and sighs, he already knows the answer.
"I wish, but my Dad's going to be home tomorrow morning and expecting me to be there." She tells him, and in her eyes, he can see what that truly meant—she was going to tell him about . . . them. He wasn't scared, or nervous, or anxious about any of it, he doesn't feel those things anyways, and while this situation wasn't the typical way of meeting the father, he was certain that he could get back on her father's good side if this goes poorly. He hopes it doesn't for her sake, knowing she'll be a wreck and a half if it does, but he would be fine, as long as he still got to see her somehow. "I'm sorry—"
"No need to apologize, kitten." He assures her, only before bringing her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to her skin, "'m the one who should be apologizing . . . hogging you from everyone else and all . . . " His words are teasing, paired with a sly wink that warms her cheeks up as she smiles.
His mind—a jumbled, disarrayed mess of new and old emotions and shit he shouldn't be thinking about—gets clouded so easily by darkness, although now, all it took was one Josephine smile or a melodic giggle for the smoke to clear. His thoughts were distracting, her existence was the antidote, and with his heart beating honestly in his chest, she giggles at his words and makes his heart beat faster. He bites his bottom lip, keeping his truth from escaping the restraints of his mouth, but for once, as he drives home with her hand in his own, he can't keep his lips sealed.
"You make me feel alive, y'know . . ." His words spring on her like her confusion does, crinkling her brows at him while her smile remains, and he can't stop himself from continuing, despite not wanting to. "For the first time ever, I feel like I can finally fuckin' breathe." It was true, because while half of him was hidden in her blind spot, the other half was falling for her faster than he would have assumed.
"You're being extra sweet today," She addresses, and it was true, but his admission wasn't sweet in his eyes, but terrifying and unusual, "what gives?"
"I just like you." He shrugs, unsure of what else to say, "Is that such a crime?"
"I guess not." She playfully responds, causing a small chuckle to fall from his lips as their street comes into view.
He knows the moment she's out of his car and out of his sight, his world will begin to spin faster, the air will be colder and his face will return to it's naturally stoic state. It happens every time they part ways, only until he sees her again and his world is filled with a new array of colors that are more pleasing to the eye. Colors he thought were unattainable without putting himself in . . . certain and unspeakable situations.
He tends not to think of those kinds of things when he's with her, learning the useful skill of separating the two in either corners of his mind when her presence is meshing with his own, but after seeing Amanda's familiar fucking face and the clean, passing month, he's craving it. It's the longest he's gone so far, he knew his habits would need to be refurbished and refined with the new setting he's stuck himself in, and despite the horror of what it all comes down to, he's almost proud of himself.
Albeit, Josephine is the only one who deserves a thanks.
"I had a fun time today," She tells him once he's pulled into his driveway, unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of his car as he does the same. "I know you're not normally inclined to . . . partake in some things we did today, but I really appreciate it." She continues as he walks her across the street, letting the wind take her hair for a split second before she reaches up and tucks it behind her ear. She's right, going to any thing with the word festival in the title doesn't appeal to him in the slightest, but her entire being is appealing to him and that's all that mattered.
It's not until they reach her doorstep does he say anything back, murmuring a small 's nothing with a shrug of his shoulders, but he could see within her eyes that it meant more to her than he probably knew. She was right, he doesn't do nice things on a whim and he doesn't plan out anything for someone else, but he finds himself wanting to contradict everything he's ever known just to initiate some kind of sparkle in her eye. No one else has ever gotten this far into his maze, where they start with the cold exterior and end with knowing him inside and out, but he can't lie, she's gotten to know him better than anyone else ever has.
So, even if she never fully knows him, she knows the way he works more than any other person.
"I meant what I said earlier," He tells her, because once he started his spiel of honesty, it's easier to continue on. Like a running start, he takes the momentum with him. "and I hate saying goodbye to you."
"Aren't I usually the dramatic one?" She asks him with a set of narrowed eyes a hint of a smile curving over his lips.
He doesn't answer her, only letting his eyes roll before cupping the back of her neck to smash his lips against hers. She kisses him back, resting a hand along his chest with the sleeve of her sweater covering her palm, and when he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against her own and he stares into her eyes. In his mind, if he stares long and hard enough, he can figure out what it was about her gaze that made her so different from the rest, but he finds nothing, only the familiar sense of beauty and a sparkle of innocence that he's seen from the jump.
"'night, J." He says, only before kissing her lips once more, and while it's shorter this time, it obtains the same sweetness as before.
"Goodnight, Harry."
With a force to his movements, he drops his hand from the back of her neck and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans, much like the other one as he steps off of her doorstep and hears her enter her house. The steps back to his house seem to be doubled in amount from when he made the walk over with her, he assumes this is because good time always gets sped up by the universe to fuck you up, but it wasn't until he reached his driveway did he notice something that sent him turning around.
The illumination of her bedroom light grabs his attention more than the moon does, and as his eyes lock with the window pane, a smile creeps on to his lips while the muffled sound of music seeps into his ears. He stops in his place, just before turning around to directly face her window, and he smiles, letting the dimples carve his cheeks as he watches her move behind the glass. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest and he leans against his car, enjoying the show of her giddy innocence while she dances through her room to whatever Madonna track she had playing.
Her hair was a mess as it flowed through the air, the smile on her face was impossible to miss, and he fought his own from widening further along his lips. There was something in his stomach, a feeling he couldn't quite ignore, and as the feeling fluttered, she danced, he smiled, and the cold air nipped at his skin. But it didn't matter, nothing else seemed to as he watched her happiness personify itself through her movements, excited and content all at once, and as her figure took shape in her window, he forces himself to take the necessary steps towards his front door.
Joy is something that takes Josephine's mind and soul hostage often, happiness and light alike, they are synonyms for the beautiful, young woman he's grown to appreciate, but seeing her like that was different, simply because it was at the hands of him. Her wide smiles, her frantic movements, the small jumps on her bed, the big twirls of her hair—he can't get it out of his mind. Not when he walks into his house, not when he opens a beer, not when he takes a shower, and not when he lies in bed at night. It's all he can think about, how fast her heart must have been racing and how hard it pounds when thinking of him.
Because it's an entire body affair when he thinks about Josephine Smith, and now he knows she feels the exact same way.
⟡
"Dad?"
There was a soft thumping noise that she heard in her room coming from down stairs, albeit it wasn't that soft considering it woke her up. It was nearing ten, a Sunday morning with sunshine and a cool breeze that sent the glass of her window cold when she touched it, but when she made her way down the stairs, she realized what her father was doing. With a nail pinched between his fingers and a hammer in his other hand, he pierced the dry wall, only to hang up a new photo, one of her on Homecoming night, stood with her father in front of the mantel.
"Is it straight?" He asks her once adjusting the corners, and with her tired eyes slightly narrowed, she tilts her head to the side and assesses the frame instead of focusing on the nervousness building in her stomach. When she nods her head, he does the same while picking up the hammer from the floor to put it up. She makes her way into the kitchen, pulling the carton of orange juice from the fridge to pour herself some, and once her father returns from the garage, she knows this is the best time to drop the bomb.
She's dating an older man, specifically the one across the street.
"Can I talk to you about something?" She asks him as he sifts through the mail sitting on the counter, and unlike their usual, free flowing conversations they have, she holds a more serious tone, mainly because she's serious about Harry. If she thought, deep in her bones, that she couldn't have some kind of future with Harry, she wouldn't go through any of this. But he's worth the trouble and the effort, and she wants Harry himself to know that, as well as her father.
"You're scaring me." Her father replies, and despite her seriousness, he's the kind to never really speak seriously with her like this. The father-daughter relationship has always been there and she believes that the strength to their backbone is the trust and honesty that share with each other, even if it's something her father might not want to hear. "I'm just kidding, what is it, sweetheart?"
"Well, I—um . . ." Her father stares at her in expectance, obtaining the same understanding look in his eyes that has brought her to sharing this with him, and while she practiced what she was going to say plenty of times the night before, she's scared now. "I just wanna be honest with you and tell you that, um . . . well, I'm dating Harry."
Her breath is caught in her throat all while her father heavily sighs, perching one hand on his hip as the other rests on the kitchen island. She can't decipher what he's feeling or thinking, she never really could with his easy going, flow following demeanor, but especially now as she searches for some kind of indicator. She waits, it feels like she's been waiting for an eternity, but as her father finally opens his mouth to speak, the cup of orange juice has been forgotten about with her focus poured into the conversation.
"Like . . . dating-dating?" He asks her, as if there was another way to put it, "Like you kiss him and he kisses you, dating?"
"Yeah, something along those lines." She nods with her heart thumping in her chest, "Look, I-I know you weren't a big fan of me dating Derek, but Harry's so much nicer to me than Derek was . . . and I know he's older, but he . . ." She trails off, pursing her lips as her father stares and crosses his arms over his chest.
"He what?"
"He makes me feel safe."
Like a breath of fresh air, the words come from her lips as a whisper, and as she looks back up to her father, he presses his lips into a thin line and sighs again. She knows her father isn't happy, she isn't sure what father would be happy about their eighteen year old daughter dating a twenty four year old man, but it could be worse. He didn't look mad, or angry, or upset with her, just more so apprehensive and confused as to how this has happened.
"You trust him?" Her father asks, and without a second of hesitation, she nods. "He's a grown man, Josephine. He's not like Derek—"
"I know." She cuts in with a small smile approaching her lips, "I know that, and him not being like Derek is what made me like him." Amongst other things, she thinks to herself, but keeps the dirty thoughts out as her father stands before her.
"Yeah, I really hated Derek."
"I know." She can't help but chuckle, and while her father doesn't seem to be the biggest fan of her dating Harry, she knew her father really disliked Derek. "I know it's probably not an ideal situation for you, but I . . . just trust me, okay? Harry's like, the last person who would hurt me." She says, trying to convince him that despite how unorthodox it was, that he had nothing to worry about—even though she knew he would worry anyways.
"I trust you, sweetheart, that's not the issue." Her father tells her, "And . . . well, I've heard about you hanging out with someone new, everyone at the hospital makes sure I know what's going on with my children, so I had my suspicions, but thank you for telling me."
"And thank you for not yelling at me." She remarks jokingly, causing a small smile to take hold of her father's lips before he reaches forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders. She hugs him back, resting her head on his chest as her heart beat slows to a normal pace.
"I'm not happy about it, but . . ." Her father begins, sighing when trying to find the right words, "it could be worse, I guess." He concludes unenthusiastically, causing her to smile to herself before pulling away. "Just promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Just . . . be careful, okay?" She isn't sure what he's referring to exactly, whether if he wants her to guard her uterus from babies or her heart from being broken, but regardless of what he really means, she nods her head quickly, just happy that he didn't make a huge deal about it. She hugs him once more out of appreciation, feeling his hand pat her back, and when she pulls away from him, she gives one I love you before taking her cup of orange juice and running back up to her room.
Immediately, she kicks her door shut behind her and rushes to her bed, setting down the cup of orange juice on her nightstand before taking the phone in one hand to dial Harry's number with the other. She assumes he's home, peeking her head towards the window to see his car in the driveway, and the phone only rings momentarily before he picks up the phone. She's smiling, grinning from ear to ear, and he can't get a single word out before she's rushing out the good news.
"Kitten, babe, you gotta slow your roll," He tells her with a chuckle, "don't know what you're saying when you talk so damn fast."
"I told my Dad about us and the world didn't end." She smiles excitedly, her words causing him to gently laugh and she wishes she could see his smile.
"Didn't think it would, but 'm glad." He says, causing her eyes to roll as she takes a sip of the tart orange juice. She sets the cup down, only before rolling on to her back while holding the phone to her ear as he continues. "What'd he say? Give you any rules or anything? Threaten to kill me?"
"No, just to be careful."
"'m not gonna get you pregnant if that's what he's saying—"
"I think he was generally speaking, but thank you for the assurance." She replies, sarcasm dripping from her words, and he laughs on the other end, either finding amusement in himself or in her, and knowing him, it could go either way. "And no, he didn't threaten to kill you."
"Yet." He adds and she scoffs, "I don't blame him, but 'm not stupid either. I don't want a kid, but if I did have a kid dating someone older than them, I don't think I'd be a huge fan—"
"Yeah, but he knows you and trusts you . . . I think." She tells him, "Look, it doesn't really matter right now, we can cross that bridge when we get there, but for now, let's just appreciate the fact that he didn't get mad."
"I guess you're right." He agrees and she smiles to herself, "What are you doing the rest of the day?"
"Dunno, I should probably do my homework that's due tomorrow. . ." She trails off with a sigh, and while homework sounds like the last thing she wanted to do, she wanted to graduate. "It's math, I'm horrible at it." She grumbles while twirling the ends of her hair through her fingers.
"If you come over later, I'll help you with it."
"Really?" She perks up while sitting up in her bed.
"No." He deadpans, causing her brows to clench inward with confusion for a moment before he continues, "Yes, really. I've gotta go to work for a few hours, but I should be back around three." He tells her, causing her smile to resurface as she agrees.
They don't stay on the phone much longer before she hangs up, letting him go to work while she makes herself useful by doing some of the chores she had neglected like doing her laundry and cleaning up her bedroom. She was half expecting her father to come to her room for a part two of a lecture, because Harry was right, she wasn't sure how many parents would be so understanding when their daughter was dating a twenty four year old man, but she didn't second guess it, not wanting to jinx herself or make unnecessary problems.
She watched the clock intently, when she was doing her makeup and braiding her hair, when she was putting her clothes away and hanging them up, and by the time three o'clock came around, Harry wasn't home. His pearly white Mercedes wasn't in the driveway, she knew he took it, so she waited a little while longer, albeit that only gave Alice time to come to her house unexpectedly. It's something she did often, she wasn't exactly surprised, but unlike before where she was hoping for Harry to return home, she was now hoping for him to stay at work so she didn't have to bail.
Although, she's sure he was thrilled to help her with her math homework.
"What's up?" She asks as she lets Alice inside, closing the front door behind her before they both trail up the stairs and enter her bedroom.
"Nothing, I just thought I'd come by and see you." Alice explains with a shrug, "I miss my best friend." Her words send a small smile on to her lips as they sit on her bed, and she knew she hadn't spent as much time with Alice as they normally share, simply because Harry's taken a massive portion of her life whether she wanted to admit it or not.
"I've missed you too."
"How's Harry?" Alice asks her, "You two still going at it? I mean, I assume so. Amanda said she saw you guys at the Fall Festival yesterday."
"Yeah, he's good. We're good." She nods her head, "I—um, I told my Dad about us today." Her words send Alice's eyes widening without hesitation, shocked by what she did, and she didn't blame her for her reaction.
"And he's still breathing?"
"Yeah." She chuckles with a slow nod, "It was fine, everyone's fine. I feel like a weight's been lifted."
"Well, duh. You can finally be with Harry without being scared of consequences." Alice says, "Now, have you put that pink little number to use?"
"What?"
"The lingerie we bought!" Alice reminds her, pushing herself up from the bed to walk towards her dresser. She opens the underwear drawer, digging for a moment before finding the baby pink set that she just now remembered. "The tags are still on." Her best friend frowns.
"We don't plan to . . . do things, Alice."
"Well, maybe you should." Alice smirks at her, holding up the matching bra as she makes her way off of the bed. "Have you guys fucked yet?"
"No," She shakes her head, "but I want to." Unlike her normal cower from the topic of sex, it's something she's grown comfortable in speaking about. He's given her a newfound confidence, experience and knowledge too. Something she never got from Derek. Her answer shocks Alice, although she smiles and nods her head in response.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
"I was waiting for him to come home." She chuckles, "He offered to help me with my homework once he got home from work, but he's a little late and . . . well, you're here now." She explains with a shrug of her shoulders and Alice laughs to herself, only before dropping the lingerie back into the drawer and shutting it.
"I'll go when he's home, but by the looks of it . . ." Alice trails off, peeking her head to the window like she has to see if his car was there, "he's still gone."
"I don't know, maybe something came up." She sighs, not really caring that he was late, especially if it was over something he couldn't control. "And you're here now, so time well spent." She smiles, causing Alice to do the same before she goes into a spiel of how her weekend went.
⟡
"'m so sorry," Kiss, "'m a fuckin' idiot, I know." Kiss, "Don't be mad at me? We can order pizza? Anything you want." Kiss.
"It's fine." She giggles while pushing at his chest, shaking her head at him and his antics as the cold wind blows past the front door and pushes into her house. Her father wasn't home, taking a night shift at the hospital while Johnny was upstairs playing whatever video game he brought home from GameStop. She was bored after Alice left, but as soon as the saw his warm headlights shine down the street from her window, she ran to the door and met him there, taking notice of the apologetic look on his face. "I'm okay, Alice came over anyway." She tells him and he lets out a breath while nodding his head.
"'m still sorry, some dumbass didn't show for his shift, and I was already there."
"It's okay, I finished most of my homework with Alice's help." She tells him and he frowns, but doesn't make a move to argue, only kisses her once more with a hand on her hip and the other leaned into her doorframe. "Wanna come inside? Dad's at work, Johnny's playing video games and yelling at the TV." She tells him and he nods, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as he passes her and she shuts the door behind him.
"That's a nice picture." He says while jutting his chin towards one of the frames on the wall, one from when she was younger and posing for the family photos they had done. She remembers Johnny tried fighting the photographer that day, hating having his picture taken.
"Thank you." She replies with a small laugh, "Hungry? We can order pizza like you said."
"Sure, I can call."
He uses the phone in her bedroom, making a remark about how it was pink and very Josephine, and she only rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside him as he ordered the pizza for the both of them. Once it was time to wait, she asked him about how work was, earning a very disgruntled response about how stupid his co-workers were, and she couldn't keep herself from laughing, only because he got so flustered over the tiniest of things. She changed the topic so he wouldn't frown anymore, she liked it when he smiled far more, and with her body sat between his legs, he listened as she talked about Alice and her boy drama.
A part of her assumed that he wasn't listening, because as she spoke, his eyes were trained on her own, albeit his hands were sneaky, trailing up her exposed legs with wandering fingers and warm skin. She couldn't lie, having his hands on her in any aspect sent her entire body buzzing with nerves, and as she tried to continue on, she felt her breath catch in her throat when he toyed with the string that kept the waistband of her shorts tight around her stomach. Her words came to a halt, lips parted with shaken breaths, and as he stares into her eyes, he smirks and slowly tugs at the sting until the knot was undone.
"The whole time I was at work . . . when you were waiting on me," He begins, his words barely audible with how quiet he was, "I was just thinking of how I could make it up to you." He admits, causing her to swallow harshly as he moves his hand to run his thumb along the middle of her shorts. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, biting to alleviate some of the tension that's built up, and as he rubs up and down, she rests her hand on his leg.
"Harry . . ." She murmurs with a small whine, leaning in with a need to kiss him, and with their lips almost touching, he smirks.
"Can I make it up to you, kitten?"
With her lip bitten between her teeth, she nods her head feverishly, allowing him to finally kiss her, so harshly that she falls back on to her bed with him hovering over her. She grabs at the back of his neck, pulling closer as she kisses him, and with one of his leg shoved between her own, he toys with the hem of her shorts before pushing his hand inside. She sighs in relief when he feels her, fingers drenched in her arousal, and he moves his lips to her neck as she moans in pleasure. She wriggles against his touch, legs spread wide with his necklace cold against the skin of her chest, and impatiently, he sits up, just before grabbing the band of her shorts and pulling them down her legs.
"God, you're pretty." He breaths out once getting a decent look at her, naked from the waist down with her hair sprawled out under her head, and with a blush creeping on to her cheeks, she giggles and watches him smile. He bends over to kiss her again, press his lips to her own just before sneaking his hand under her back with a grip on her waist, using his strength to flip her over on to her knees as she let out a small squeal.
She smiles, looking over her shoulder at him before feeling his hands on her ass and his mouth on her clit, and as she arches her back and sighs from the feeling, she grips her bedding with white knuckles. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her voice down, not wanting her brother to hear despite him not paying attention to anything or anyone else around him, but as Harry slips two fingers inside of her, he makes it hard for her to be quiet. She whimpers and whines with a thin layer of sweat accumulating along her skin, and with his fingers moving in and out of her, he keeps his tongue moving against her clit.
"Oh, my God . . ." She breaths out with a thick swallow and he pulls his fingers out of her, only before reaching around with his other hand to gently grab her neck. Her back is pressed against his front, both on their knees, and with his two fingers glistening in the light of her bedroom, she doesn't waste a second before reading his mind and wrapping her lips around them.
"Taste good?" He asks her and earns a curt nod, "I think so too." He smiles, pressing his lips to her cheek before pulling his fingers out of her mouth and letting go of her neck. "Now, you stay just like that, kitten." He tells her, and as she stays on her knees with her legs apart, she doesn't know what he's doing until feeling his arms wrap around her thighs with his head between her legs.
She shudders when he uses his mouth again, more hasty and rigid in his movements, but it sends her stomach tightening without a doubt. She reaches forward for the ledge of her bed, grabbing on to stabilize herself and relieve some of the pleasure, and as she digs her nails into the wood, she lets out a heavy, shaken sigh, knowing she was going to come undone soon. He can sense it too, with her body twitching and stomach clenching, he uses his tongue to go faster, pushing her towards her euphoric high.
"Let go, kitten," He mumbles against her bundle of nerves, "come all over my face." He tells her, and with his dirty words being the trigger, a round of soft cries fall from her lips as she twitches against him. He lays his tongue flat against her once more, causing her to jerk at the feeling from the newfound sensitivity, and right as she swings her leg over his head and reaches for the buckle of his belt, the doorbell rings. He chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and as he climbs off of her bed, he presses a chaste kiss to her lips before making his way towards the front door.
⟡
In a small town like Chagrin Falls, there are a few things that bring everyone in town together, and high school football games were one of them. Friday nights were dedicated to the football team and the fathers who played before them, and despite whether the team was good or not, everyone went to the game. She was no exception, but because she had spent majority of her weekends with Harry, this would be one of the first football games she would attend during the entire season, which Alice thought was a travesty.
Since Homecoming, she had barely gone out with her friends, obtaining more trust in Harry's pinky than her entire friend group, but she knew she had to give in at some point, and that point was now. She agreed, only on the basis of her driving and not going off with anyone random, and Alice, Jennifer, and Heather all agreed in unison. She was still a little iffy about it, but not as much as Harry was, who was not shy about sharing how he felt about her friend group.
"Why do you look so appalled?" She couldn't keep herself from asking when he asked what she was doing—or more specifically, what she was so dressed up for, although she didn't think she was that dressed up. "I normally go to the football games, I've just been busy—"
"The last time you went somewhere with them, they left you there."
"I know, but it really wasn't their fault. It's Derek's." She reminds him while tying a white ribbon around her ponytail, matching the white in her shirt.
"It's just . . ." He sighs, taking a pause, albeit it doesn't make him speak any softer. "how stupid does someone gotta be to leave their friend somewhere without even looking for them?" He remarks bluntly, and she lowers her arms while staring at him through her mirror, unsure of what to say.
"I don't know, Harry." She mumbles, frowning to herself with Homecoming night replaying in her mind. "I don't know, but I'm going to the game." She says, more to so herself than him, and as she pushes herself up from her seat in front of her vanity, she notices the stoic look on his face. "I'm driving, so they physically cannot leave me—"
"Is bitch boy gonna be there?"
"I don't know, I don't keep tabs on him." Her sarcastic remark sends his brows raising in shock, causing her to rethink what she said and she sighs, "I'm sorry, but I don't know if he's going to be there. I hope he isn't, but I can't do anything about it if he is. I'm gonna be with my friends the whole time, so it doesn't even matter if he's there or not—"
"Of course, it matters, J." He scoffs, and as he pushes himself up from her bed, he takes a couple lengthy steps until he's stood right in front of her. "Look, I know 'm being a bit of a hard-ass, it's just . . . I don't wanna get another call like I did last time. Freaked me the fuck out, I hate seeing you cry—"
"I'm gonna be fine." She assures him with a smile, only before pushing up on to her toes to press her lips to his. "But you know what would fix this issue?"
"You come over and spend the night."
"You come with me to the game." She says with a wide smile, completely ignoring what he said, and he purses his lips with a small shake of his head. "It only lasts a couple hours, and they sell really good hot chocolate—"
"I can make you hot chocolate and you can spend the entire night with me."
"I'll make you a deal," She begins, "I'm gonna go to the game, and once it's done you're still wanting to see me, you can come over."
"Fine." He sighs, knowing she won't budge on this one, and watches her smile before she kisses him once more. "But you have to promise me to be careful? Don't be a moron, alright?" He tells her, causing her to scoff with her arms slung around his neck.
"I'm always careful." She replies, "And I'm never a moron."
"I know." He says with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Give me one more kiss before I go." As he said, she stands on her tippy toes and kisses him, harder than the time before with his tongue swiping some of her bubblegum lip balm from her bottom lip, and he pulls away, knowing what will happen if he doesn't.
When he finally removes himself from her and leaves her house, it doesn't take him very long to come to the decision that he can't just sit at home while Josephine is possibly somewhere else that he isn't. Call him clingy, call him obsessive, but the idea of her needing him and him not being there was sickening, especially with the possibility of Derek being there. Halloween weekend has scarred him, remembering how sick he felt when seeing her in the hands of someone else, and while this all could have been solved by him going to the game with her, standing in a row of bleachers with a bunch of teenagers wasn't really his ideal Friday night.
So he waits, watching as Josephine pulls out of her driveway and heads to pick up her friends, and it's only until later does he leave. He almost feels bad for undermining her like this, but convinces himself to feel otherwise when using the excuse that he's doing this to protect her, look out for her from a distance. But underneath his care and affection for Josephine, his itch to bash Amanda's head and shove her into the back of his car lives, and in the off chance that he sees her by herself, he has to take the opportunity.
The stadium wasn't far from his house, or anything else in town, and as the lights shine down on the football field, he parks in the back of the parking lot, gritting his teeth with his radio playing lowly. He sighs softly, folding his hands behind his head before realizing he left the sun visor down and goes to put it back up, although the photo booth pictures of him and Josephine catch his attention. He kept them closed between the mirror and the cover, smiling subtly while looking at them, but quickly snaps the sun visor back up.
As he looks back out in front of him, he looks to the side to see a couple of teenagers stood by someone's car, both looking strangely familiar, and at first he thinks it's Josephine, but then he remembers her hair is in a ponytail, so it's not her. He narrows his eyes, making out that it's a guy and a girl, but as he gets a better look, his lips part when realizing it was Amanda and Derek, talking outside of Derek's car. He couldn't possibly know why Amanda was talking to him, but since the day he saw her at the Fall Festival, he's been looking for a reason to snag that bitch.
He waits, narrowing his eyes as he watches them, and he can't tell how either of them feel, but as soon as Derek walks away from Amanda, he knows now is his time. He's quick to grab the knife in his glovebox, shutting it with a slam and opens the car door, softly so he doesn't startle her . . . yet. He watches as she leans against the car, although once he gets close enough for her to notice him, he's hovering over her, pressing the blade of the knife into the skin of her neck. He pull her body into his own, earning soft whimpers of terror leave her lips, and he smirks as she speaks.
"Plea-Please," She cries, "please, do-don't do this."
"Here's what's gonna happen, Amanda," He begins in a low mumble, "we're gonna get in the car, you're not gonna say a fuckin' word, and if you scream, this knife is going right into that pretty little neck of yours." His threat sends her breath picking up, he can practically hear her heart beating in her chest. "Got that?" He asks her, and when she doesn't answer, he presses the knife further into her neck, earning a quick nod as she cries.
Like promised, he opens the trunk and pushes her inside, hearing her cries carry volume as he closes the trunk and opens the front door to get in. Amanda cries just like she did, he thinks to himself and sighs when sliding into the front seat and shutting the door behind him. She's really fucking annoying, he can't lie and say she isn't, but he knows when he finally gets her to his house, it'll be worth the trouble. The ride home is short, no road bumps in the way, and as he backs his car into the driveway, he opens the trunk and dodges her foot as she sticks it out to kick him.
They always fucking do that.
"Stupid bitch." He says with an eye roll, only before gripping his knife in one hand and grabbing her in the other, pulling her out of the trunk and towards the garage. He pushes her shoulders forward, making her walk into the garage before he shuts the trunk and follows her into the garage. "Now, I would give you a tour, but I really don't wanna deal with you for much longer—"
"You're si-sick in the he-head . . ." Amanda stammers, weak and hopeless in her movements, but he doesn't care, finding her antics a bit melodramatic as he pushes her into the house and closes the garage. "I-I can't believe she doesn't know about th-this—"
"Who, Josephine?" He asks, but lets out a small laugh before she can answer, "Don't talk about her, she's better than you in every fuckin' aspect imaginable." He grunts, holding on to her shirt with one hand and his knife in the other, and gives her a nudge when opening the door to the stairs that lead to the basement. It was dark, he didn't want to turn on the lights, and the sight of the stairway alone sent her backing up towards him. "No chance in hell, let's go, blondie." He says with a slow shake of his head, cornering her so the only place she has left to go is down.
It wasn't until half way down the stairs does she try something, attempting to hit him in the balls, but hits his leg instead and he doesn't feel a damn thing. His eyes darken, staring at her, and with one push to her shoulder he watches as she tumbles down the stairs before hitting the door at the bottom. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he walks down, and when he gets to the bottom, she moans in pain with her body a pile of skin and bones on the floor.
"Try something like that again and you won't get shoved down the stairs, but in a fuckin' hole in the ground where no one's ever gonna find you." He tells her, hearing her cries pick up as he opens the door and shoves her into the room. He's quick in his ways of tying her to the chair in the center of the room, and her tears never stop, crying harder now that he pushed her down the stairs. Oops.
"Shut the fuck up." He deadpans lowly, "Your voice is so annoying, 's giving me a goddamn headache—"
"I-I have a goddamn headache since you shoved m-me down the stairs!" She yells at him, gaining some sort of confidence which was odd, considering she was tied to a chair at the hands of him. "Wha-What the hell is this about anyways?" Amanda asks him with an edge to her wavering voice, violently pulling on the bounds that kept her attached to the chair, and he didn't move, "'Cause I left your dumb-as-shit, babygirl at the fucking dance with Derek—"
When his clenched fist comes into contact with her face, he doesn't feel the pain in his aching bones, but watches with a flare to his nostrils as she cries and comes back from the impact, letting blood run down her face from the snap in her nose. He doesn't care at all, not about her or the pain in his hand or the blood staining her shirt. He doesn't think Josephine is stupid, or dumb as Amanda put it, but he couldn't even think about that before snapping, letting his rage take over in the most physical aspect.
But then the extent of Amanda's words resurface in his brain, specifically the name Derek, and his eyes widen with anger as he registers what she told him. All he knew about the dance was that Josephine's friends left her, not that Derek was there or that they left her alone with the bitch boy. So he reaches forward, grabbing at Amanda's neck to get her attention with a tight squeeze because he was going to get the answers he wanted before he was done with her.
"What the fuck did you just say?" He seethes, watching her skin fade to red with her eyes wide and breaths raspy, "'m gonna let go, and if you know what's fuckin' good for your sorry ass, you're gonna tell me what happened at the dance." He tells her, and as soon as she nods her head, he lets go of her neck and watches as she coughs, regaining her breath with blood falling from her lips.
"He . . . one of his friends told us that—" She pauses, spitting her blood out on the ground next to the chair before continuing with stammered breaths and free flowing tears, "—he said that Jo had left an-and said she was . . . going somewhere else. I-It was a trick . . . Derek just wanted to talk to her, but . . . but we thought she was gone, so w-we went after her." Amanda explains, causing the image of Derek trying to talk to Josephine to surface within his mind and he hates it.
"Did you even fuckin' look for her?" He snaps, leaning his hands into the small table behind him, covered in an array of knives and plastic wrap. "I mean, fuck. You'd think if the guy's friends with bitch boy, he wouldn't be a trustworthy source, but like most bitches, you didn't think that far, did you?" He goes on, shaking his head while watching her shake with fear and blood staining her skin.
"I—W-We didn't mean to . . . we didn't mean to hurt her—"
"You left her with someone who already had." He deadpans with a click of his tongue, "So what does that make you, Amanda?"
"I-I don't know, you fucking psycho!" Amanda exclaims, seeming to have snapped with terror taking hold of her features. "You know you should really thank Derek, he's the one taking the fall for your crazy ass—" He cuts her off with another grab to her throat, constricting her breathing as he leans in with a smirk.
"The only thing I owe that little bitch is a face fuck." He mumbles through gritted teeth, eyeing her swelling nose and bruising skin that was tainted with fresh tears and fresher blood. "But you're right about one thing, he is taking the fall for this, so . . . how do you think everyone in town would feel about you meeting with him in secret?" He asks with a growing smirk and moves his hand to grab her face, smearing the blood with his glove covered thumb and watches her eyes meet his own.
"Get fucked."
"I'm going to, I think J's ready." He says and lets go of her face with a small jerk. "Now, this has been fun and all, but I'm tired." He sighs, tearing off the gloves to toss them in the trash, and as he makes his way towards the bottom of the stairs, he can hear Amanda pulling at the restraints. "Pull all you want, you fuckin' moron. You're not the first try it."
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hiii i hope you liked the chapter!
i just wanted to give a quick little spiel about how important it is that you vote on chapters! i know some of my friends are silent readers, and i'm always down with it, but a small little vote would mean the absolute world to me! it helps not only me, but other authors gain exposure whenever you vote, so don't be selfish! we write for ourselves, but for you as well, so let someone else find this story so they can fall in love with it too?
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