AN: Pictured above in the collage is Jack except for the bottom right which is Spencer
I just wanted to say ahead of time—
You're welcome;-)
*flashback*
"-it's just too bad you didn't bring any shampoo" he shuffles forward and leans in to feel my hair. "It doesn't feel too oily-"
I slap his hand away and my eyes widen.
I whine, "Stop!" a little louder and high-pitched than I intend to.
"I just need to see-" He reaches his hand out to ruffle my hair and I try to duck my head out of his reach but his fingers curl around the collar of my sweater, yanking me toward him.
I attempt to wiggle my way out of his grip, but I fail. I know if I keep this up, it'll only stretch out the collar of my favorite sweater even more, which I do not want. So I go limp with defeat, huffing an annoyed sigh.
When he lets go of my sweater, he places his hands on both sides of my face and turns me to face him. His long fingers run through my hair above my ear and the palms of his hands are on my cheeks. His hands are cold and a little wet, but when I shiver, it's not from that. I'm breathless from struggling to escape his hold on me and him holding my face isn't helping.
He stares into my eyes for a few seconds and my heart skips a beat. I try to gauge what emotion is hidden in his sparkling hazel eyes before he tilts his head and leans forward.
*end flashback*/ continuation
Trying to regulate my breathing is useless at this point.
My eyes flicker down to gaze at his lips. They're slightly parted as he pulls my face toward his just the tiniest bit.
Then he suddenly tenses and angles my head down into his shoulder as he buries his face in my hair.
I also tense. Jack makes me tense. I'm very tense right now.
....And sexually frustrated, but I'd never let Jack know that.
He takes a deep inhale through his nose into my hair and I shiver from the feeling. His chin is resting on my forehead and my eyes lock onto his prominent Adam's Apple that's moving up and down as he swallows.
I'm confused, but not mad. I mean, I'm not exactly complaining about being pressed up against the soft, warm skin of his collarbone and the lean muscles of his chest.
His voice is muffled but I still hear him state, "It does kinda smell, though," snapping me out of my trance.
Now I'm mad.
No, no, I'm not mad- I'm fuming.
"You little piece of-" I start to yell, pushing off of Jack's chest, past embarrassment about the position we were just in.
He grabs onto my hands and holds them captive on his chest. "Hey, hey, hey," he says, trying to calm me down.
It almost works, but it's mostly due to the fact he's rubbing his thumbs on my hands in circles soothingly. He's pulled my hands taunt against him, my fingers splayed out so the tips barely skim the exposed skin of his collarbone and my palms press firmly on his pecs.
I try to not focus on that and instead focus on wriggling myself out of his grasp. I practically growl at him, red rising in my cheeks from anger.
"Let-" I twist myself to the right, "me-" I twist to the left, "-go!" I pull myself forcefully backward from him, staggering to keep my balance when he lets go.
Taking several steps back, I distance myself from him.
I hastily readjust my sweater while I catch my breath.
I avoid looking at Jack because if I might lose it if I do.
'Losing it' might involve punching him, forgiving him, or jumping him and kissing his stupid face.
I try to walk back to my dresser but he steps in front of me.
"I didn't-"
I push him aside. "Save it," I bite out.
He seems to finally understand and shuts up.
I dig through my dresser drawer and find some boxers, a plain white tee shirt, and a pair of black Adidas joggers for myself, then start looking for something that will fit Jack.
After some deliberating, I decide on a black tee shirt that's a bit loose on me and some athletic shorts with an elastic waistband so they should stretch. I toss them behind me to the left, aiming for my bed. Jack steps out of the way, dodging the clothes swiftly.
I turn back to my dresser and mumble out, "Those are for you," with a vague gesture toward my bed.
I stare at the contents of my open drawer, debating whether or not to get him some boxers. Would that be weird? I think it's the polite thing to do since I'm getting some for myself.
Wet boxers are extremely uncomfortable. My crotch is so freezing cold, my balls are blue.
N-NOT... not like that.
Not blue because of that, but because when your body is cold, your heart is focused on pumping blood to your vital organs, not your extremities which are deemed expendable in the grand scheme of things. So without proper circulation, the extremities turn blue and eventually fall off.
Are your balls an extremity, though?
...Is your weeny?
Or are they considered a 'vital organ'?
I don't think they should; Lord knows we have enough weenies in the world.
Although I'd rather like to keep mine attached... I don't think keeping it on should be a body's main concern in a life or death situation. Just let 'em fall off.
Maybe that's how we achieve world peace.
I must be spacing out because I don't notice Jack shuffle closer to me. When he taps lightly on my shoulder, a high-pitched yelp escapes my mouth before I can prevent it.
I turn around and he appears to be stifling a laugh. Although I appreciate the effort, I'm still just as mortified by the noise I made.
I'm also mortified by the scene before my eyes.
Jack has removed his soaking white tee shirt, thank god, but I take back my appreciation because he has put nothing on in its place.
Instead of the distraction being the see-through white tee shirt clinging to his abs, the distraction is his abs.
Not to mention the unbuttoned pants that expose the fabric of his boxers.
As my eyes attempt to look anywhere else but there, I notice that Jack's attention is on the contents of my drawer.
"Hey, um, it looks like we use the same boxers, would you mind if I borrowed a pair?"
"Sure," I step away from the drawer and turn to face away. I clear my throat, "take your pick."
I'm standing at my desk, facing the opposite wall as my bed. I've decided that if I change somewhere else it would seem weird since Jack is perfectly comfortable changing in my presence, so why shouldn't I be the same?
My back may be turned to Jack, but I can still hear him shuffling out of his pants and pulling them off.
I try to not let it distract me.
I have to focus on my own problem- which is the fact that my favorite sweater isn't my favorite anymore.
The rainstorm seems to have had the same effect as a washing machine; it has shrunk my sweater. So my sweater has not only shrunk significantly but also has absorbed so much liquid that it's clinging to me like it's life depends on it. I try to shimmy it up over my head but it's like it weighs a thousand pounds.
I manage to get my face through and now my arms are flailing as I blindly feel around, searching for fabric to pull on. The sweater is scrunched up and extremely constrictive, making it hard to move my shoulders or bend my elbows. When I try to shift my shoulder the sweater snags on my glasses and they're pulled off of my face. They fall and crash onto the hardwood floor.
Then I hear the floorboards creak.
The first thought that comes to mind when Jack steps toward me is that he's angry I was so mean to him and now he wants revenge. I'm about to be murdered!
The thought is confirmed when he reaches out a hand to grab my side, turning me around to face him. His hand is wrapped around just above my hipbone and he jerks me forward.
I flinch away from his touch. "No, please don't attack me," I beg.
My vision is blurry without my glasses but I can still see a bit through the holes in my sweater and I see Jack smirk as he laughs. How evil.
This is not funny.
"I'm defenseless, it's not fair," I whine.
Jack's hand wraps around my wrist.
He starts, "Just-" but he's interupted by my wiggling.
His grip tightens. "Just stay still."
He says it in such a way that makes me quietly obey. I don't know why, but I stop struggling. I let out an exasperated huff, deciding to accept my fate, even if my fate is that I get murdered tonight- by Jack Summers.
Then he releases my wrist.
Just as I'm about to feel relieved, his hands skim up my sides, under my sweater. The tips of his fingers graze my skin, sending sparks of electricity through my body, energy coursing through me, igniting my senses.
They reach the sensitive skin near my chest and I twitch under the touch. Goosebumps appear on the design he's made, they follow along the path he has traced on my skin.
I somehow manage to stay silent during this, but it takes a lot of lip-biting to suppress my feelings that want to be expressed through either a moan, a yelp, a purr, or an expletive.
I can't decide which.
Jack has now reached my upper torso and starts to tug gently upward to dislodge my shoulders from my sweater.
He's successful. My limbs are now not restricted but I can't find the energy or desire to move them. So I let Jack continue to remove my sweater, now tugging on the sleeves.
With one final pull, he slips the sweater off of me, up over my head.
Despite his gentleness, my hair is obviously disheveled and my torso exposed. So naturally, I'm embarrassed.
I'm glad that I don't have my glasses to see the look of disgust on Jack's face.
I mean, he was just laughing at me, for God's sake.
He probably hates me!
But this time when he reaches out to me, I don't flinch. He's so close, standing only a few inches away from me, completely naked... except for a pair of my boxers.
I don't want him to get away from me yet; I want to see the emotion on his face.
I lean toward him, angling my body up against him. We're now only centimeters apart and it almost feels as though were touching. His body heat is radiating off of him in waves. It's making me hot and flustered.
He's close enough now that I can distinguish his facial features. He runs a hand up my arm and my hair is standing on end. The tingles spread through my body and I push myself closer to him, noticing the slight flush above his cheekbones and how he's biting his lip, increasing the circulation of blood flow there, making them redder and plumper and so kissable-
I hear a knock on the door.
Max.
-----
AN: So far I haven't gone longer than three days without updating, I hope I can keep it up!
I think the longest I'd go is a week, so don't be alarmed if it's been 5 days and I haven't updated or something.
I will hardcore edit this when I wake up because I just wrote the last bit on my phone because my laptop stopped working like 5 hours ago but I wanted to upload tonight so I know the ending is rushed but it will be improved!!!
On a separate note, is Max a cockblocck or what?
Also, does anyone have any sneaking suspicions on whether or not Jack is gay???
THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO ARTY BECAUSE WHAT AN AMAZING FRIEND
@Artemis108 !!!
Love,
Leah