MY PONYTAIL WAS GIVING ME A HEADACHE, the blue gown I'd chosen days ago hanging off my hips effortlessly, the smile on my face giving the illusion of confidence. I was anything but. Jack was by my side, sitting tensely as we listened to speeches, laughing when something was funny, but mostly, avoiding eye contact.
Getting ready for this thing had been painful, the idea that we'd either have to share a bed for the night, or one of us would have to take the floor hanging between us like a thick blanket. A topic neither of us wanted to brush over, and so we decided that not talking all together was the best option.
The only communication that had been passed between Jack and I since we got to this hotel was when I couldn't get the zip of my dress up, and he stepped in to aid me without thought. His knuckles brushed my bare spine, my breath hitching at the contact, and the way his skin on mine felt electric. He seemed to take his time, brushing my hair over one shoulder as he stood closer than necessary. I missed him, I wanted to turn to my side, yank his tie to me, and kiss the hell out of him.
But I don't, I keep my composure, because we're at a wedding filled to the brim with Jack's family, and I don't want to make out with him in the middle of it. Or, I do, but, maybe after a few more bubbly champagnes.
Jack and I both reach for our drinks at the same time, our hands accidentally meeting half way, and our fingers brushing. I suck in a breath, he doesn't pull away. The bride is crying as her groom makes a speech that is, admittedly, a tear jerker, but I'm not listening. I'm only staring at Jack, my gaze just for him. He looks ridiculous in a tuxedo, but not in a bad way, though I do miss his cap on backwards and sneakers combo.
I felt awkward and out of place and my head was spinning because of how much free alcohol I'd indulged in.
Jack stares right at me, his mouth open slightly like he's about to speak, and I bite my lip at the sight of him, urging him to go on.
He blinks, clears his throat. "You look outrageous in that dress."
I scoff, feeling not even slightly offended, because I knew what he meant. He looked sort of outrageous too.
"I feel stupid," he admits, letting a bubbling laugh slip through his lips, he pulls at his bow tie. "And I'm choking on this thing every time I drink."
With a small giggle, I reach across so that my hands grip the fabric of his tie, working to loosen it until it falls free on the table in front of him. "There, much better."
Jack rubs at his neck, sighing with relief. "Thank God, that thing was insufferable."
"So is fighting with you," I admit, smirking slightly, but there's a serious edge to my voice, a hint of anxiety that tells Jack I'm not quite kidding.
Jack leans down, laces our hands together. "Then let's not fight anymore."
I try to smile, but then I'm wincing and it's definitely because of this damn ponytail i'd curled. Jack notices, furrowing his eyebrows.
"That's the third time you've done that," he notes. "What's going on?"
"It's this damn hairstyle," I admit, rubbing my temples. "I guess I'm just not made for this pretty ball gown bullshit."
"You're right," he whispers, reaching a hand out, wrapping his fingers around the hair tie on top of my head, and pulling. My hair falls free, cascading down my spine in loose, messy curls and emitting a gasp out of me. "You're so much better."
I turn to him, a glint of mischief in my eyes, the speeches are over, there's music playing and a generous amount of people on the dance floor. It's been a pretty extravagant wedding so far, so I half expect the music to be piano style elevator music, but I'm pleasantly surprised that it's not.
My all time favourite song plays here the speakers, and I can't hide my audible gasp when the unmistakable acoustic guitar filters through the venue, changing the tone to a slow dance. Jack notices the way my eyes light up, the smile on my lips.
"You've played this for me," he tells me, a tiny grin on his own lips. "I remember, it was right after that stupid movie that used to be a book was released. The Stars are Wrong, or whatever."
I clap a palm over my mouth and laugh, bright and sweet and real, because I had played it for him before, but that definitely was not the movie name.
"The Fault In Our Stars," I correct him, giggling. He shakes his head, shrugging, then just sits back in his chair and watches me. I feel strange under his gaze, but I'm still smiling, still tapping my fingers and humming the words. (Song name: All I Want - Kodaline)
"Do you want to dance with me?" He blurts, a furious blush creeping up the back of his neck, over his cheeks.
I feel weird. My stomach flips repeatedly and my heart hammers in my chest and my hands are suddenly sweating but the way he's looking at me with these big hopeful eyes, his chest rising and falling gently, like he's trying to remember how to breathe, reminds me that I'm not the only one who feels this way.
"Yes," I whisper, trying to hold back my own blush. I'm pretty sure I fail.
Jack stands, wiping his palms on his tux, and I do the same, except there's nowhere for me to wipe my own hands because my dress is made of glitter, so I just hope he doesn't notice how nervous or clammy I am. Jack holds a hand out for me to take, then leads me to the middle of the glimmering dance floor.
We're in the centre of the ballroom, and for some reason I'm reminded of that one scene in the Titanic where Rose is on the staircase, then I laugh, because Leonardo DeCaprio's name is also Jack, in that movie.
Jack turns to me, my Jack, his eyebrow raised in question. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," I hum, right as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his chest. "I'm just remembering that one time I tried to teach you to ballroom dance before your senior prom."
"Do not remind me of that," Jack laughs, tipping his head back. "I was so bad, it was embarrassing."
"You kept stepping on my toes," I giggle.
He smiles at me, eyes full of adoration. "I was nervous."
My laughter stops completely, replaced by nerves of my own. "Why?"
He steps out, and pulls me into a spin, before pulling me back to his chest. "Because I had this stupid big crush on you."
I spluttered, coughing on my own spit. "Me?"
"Yeah," he hums, our foreheads meeting between us as he brushes his nose to mine. My heart races in my chest as he spins us around slowly, the most romantic moment of my life to date. "But you kept talking about Nathan Montello and his stupid fucking abs."
I bark out a laugh, not being able to control it, my eyes glimmer at the memory. "He had killer abs and you didn't want me."
"Oh, I wanted you, big time," he breathed, my hands play with the ends of his hair, and his eyes flutter closed. "But Trevor would have killed me."
I take a shaky breath of my own, we're still dancing, spinning, laughing. Jack has one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding the back of my neck, cupping my neck on its entirely with his palm. I realise we're inches from each other, and I know we've kissed once before, but this feels different, it feels like this moment was made for us. Just us.
Jack's breath is warm and static against my mouth, and I feel myself melting into his grip. The song still plays loudly over the speakers, but it feels like background noise, all of it fading into the distance as my focus fixates on the boy before me.
"And now?" I whisper, hands still toying with his hair, I feel a deep sound tumble from Jack's lips, vibrating my ribs and chest, suspiciously like a moan, but quieter. "How do you feel now?"
He breathes in, deep and deliberate, sucking in air like he's about to give me the world's most sacred admission.
"Like I'm in love with you," he whispers, then he breathes out, a sigh of relief.
I stare up at him, we're still dancing, swaying slightly, and the song has reached my favourite part, where the music picks up and for some reason it makes me feel so happy I could fly. That's how I feel now. Like I'm flying. My head is spinning, and it's in the clouds.
"Jack?" I breathe.
He grabs my face between his palms. "I'm in love with you, Miracle."
I want to say it back, to tell him that I love him too, but if I'd learned anything over the years of loving Jack Hughes, it was that actions speak louder than words, and so, I push myself up onto the tips of my toes, even though I'm already in heels, so that my lips can meet his, but it seems like Jack has the same idea, because he dips his head down to me, and I meet him half way.
I've only ever been kissed a handful of times. The first time was when I was ten, and Jack pecked my lips on the front porch of my childhood home. The second was by Jake at senior prom, the third, days ago, by Jack, also on the porch, and now: this. No kiss had ever felt this way, this intense.
It was like all of the things I'd ever loved jammed into one sweet moment made just for us. Like the feeling you get when you drop on a roller coaster for the first time, like winning a prize at a summer fair, like fireworks on the Fourth of July, like the first storm in the summer.
Kissing Jack felt like long car rides with the windows down, like signing along to your favourite 80's song with your best friends, like dancing around the house in socks. Like blanket forts and two dozen roses and being called his.
And I never wanted it to stop.
I moaned against his lips, and Jack pulled away with a smirk, and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"You wanna get the hell out of here?" He whispers, placing a small peck on my nose.
I giggle. "Yes."
Then he's lacing our fingers together, pulling on my hand and tugging me to the nearest exit, keeping an eye out for his Mom to make sure we're not stopped half way out. We're on a mission now, to be alone and uninterrupted. We're miles away from Trevor, and anyone else who dares to come between us, and we're both painfully aware that with the bedding situation that awaits in our room, there's nothing and nobody to stop us from getting what we've wanted since Jack came home.
He kisses me in the hall, then in the lobby while we wait for the elevator, then when we're alone in the lift, he kisses me again. We stop on the second floor, and old lady climbing on, going to the executive lounge on the rooftop, and she catches us mid-sloppy-kiss. He gives us a disappointed glare, but Jack and I only laugh about it in the corner of the elevator, trying not to make noise.
We're a mess of giggles and kisses and hands touching anywhere we can find skin when we reach our floor. Jack stops about four times to kiss me, each time, harder, more passionate than the first. He fumbles around in his pocket, reaching for the key card to our room, nearly dropping it in the process and having to scan our lock four times before he gets it.
He lets out a frustrated grunt, but refuses to stop kissing me, his other hand is tangled in my hair, making a complete mess of it, and a tiny whine falls from my lips when we inevitably have to part ways to step inside our room.
Jack notices, smirks at me wildly, his eyes dark and dangerous and full of lust.
"I hope you know that I'm not kidding Miracle," he breathes. "I meant what I said. I love you."
My heart catches in my throat, and I want to do something that's completely crazy and out of character but also, I feel like I cant wait a second longer or I might actually explode.
And so, with batted breath and eyelashes that slowly blink up at him, I place one hand in Jack's hair, right at the base of his neck, pulling slightly. His eyelids flutter closed at the feeling, a groan slipping from his lips. My other hand shakes, but I go through with it anyway, and place my palm flat against his crotch, finding that he's already rock hard and pulsing.
Jack's breath hitches, and his eyes dart down to meet mine, the blue of them an entire shade darker than usual.
I swallow thickly, watching the way his chest rises and falls, his eyes droop and his lip twitches impatiently, and suddenly I'm not so shy, because I know he wants me, I can feel that he wants me. And so, daringly, I whisper a response I barely recognise coming from my own lips.
"Prove it."