Jack wasn't a rule breaker.
He flossed twice a day. He always streamed films legally, and he never cut the queue at Tesco. And he was — crucially — one of the 0.01% of people in the world that actually read the Terms and Conditions on forms. Just in case.
But right now, Jack wanted to shatter the rules.
Every. Single. One.
He crushed Chloe to his chest, until their bodies were flush against one another. He could feel her pulse racing. She moaned. Or maybe it was him. Jack no longer cared.
He made a desperate noise at the back of his throat. He couldn't seem to stop. Couldn't stop his hands from roaming over her skin, from burying in her hair. Chloe kissed like she skated: without a hint of clumsiness. Everything was deliberate. Calculated. Mischief sparked in her eyes as she nibbled his neck, and his breath caught in his throat.
This woman was going to be the end of him.
"Chloe," he gasped. "Wait."
She didn't wait. Instead, she looked at Jack impishly before kissing a blazing path along his neck. Jack groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. She knew exactly what sort of effect she had on him, he realized dizzily. And she was going to milk it for all it was worth.
Why was that so damn sexy?
Jack forced himself to breathe. He had to stop this. Right now. Because if it kept going, he didn't think he'd have to strength to do so.
"Stop," he said raggedly, lurching back.
This time, Chloe did.
"What is it?"
She was peering up at him through her sooty lashes. God damn those lashes. They would kill him one day. And Jack would happily let them.
"We can't," he repeated.
"Why not?"
"Because..." His brain felt thick. Fuzzy. "Well, because..."
"Because?" she prompted.
"Because I want to wait," he blurted.
Chloe gave him an odd look. Slowly, she clambered off his lap, retreating to her stool. She crossed her arms. "You want to wait?" she repeated. "You, Logan Winters?"
Jack flinched. "Yes."
"You've never waited a day in your life for anything."
"Well, you're different."
Chloe softened. Jack could feel the heat draining from his body, leaving a crippling cold in its wake. His throat felt suddenly tight. What the hell had he just done?
"That's sweet," she murmured. "Unexpectedly sweet, actually."
He closed his eyes. Ah, crumbs.
"Do you have a balcony?" he asked abruptly. "Let's go outside."
Jack was suddenly desperate for fresh air. The kitchen was stifling, and his breathing was hard. Among other parts of him. God, he needed a cold shower. But a blast of chilly London air would have to do for now.
Chloe didn't have a balcony; Jack knew that, obviously.
But she did have a roof.
As if on cue, Chloe glanced upwards. "What about the gingerbread house?"
"It can wait."
"Okay." She scooped up her glass of wine. "Let's go."
He trailed her up a rickety fire escape, trying not to notice the way her dress hitched up her thighs. He gritted his teeth. Stupid dress. Stupid Zara. The company was clearly trying to give him a premature heart attack.
Chloe crawled on to the roof, shivering slightly.
"You're mad," she told him, shaking her head. "You know that, right?"
"It's nice up here."
"It's freezing."
"Here." Jack shrugged off his jumper. "You take it."
He thought Chloe might protest since Jack was left wearing only a t-shirt in the cold, but apparently, her sensitive skin won out. She tugged the jumper over her head. It looked ridiculous on her, Jack thought fondly. The blue sleeves dangled from her wrists like limp spaghetti noodles.
"You have the best view," Jack sighed, leaning back on his elbows. "You can see all the way to Tower Bridge from here."
"I know." Chloe hugged her knees into her chest. "I've always liked high-up places, you know. Ever since I was little."
Jack paused. He didn't know that, actually.
"What sort of places?"
"Trees, mostly," she said. "Balconies. Our neighbour's shed." Her dark eyes reflected the city lights. "As a kid, I used to sit up at the top of the staircase when my parents would fight. It's where I felt safest." She smiled wryly. "I guess some things never change."
Jack pressed his hands into the brick roof. He wanted to hug her so badly. But did he want to do it as Logan?
"Anyways," Chloe continued, "I don't mean to bring the mood down." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It was a long time ago."
"Why do people always say that?"
"What?"
"It was a long time ago," Jack echoed. "It doesn't make any sense."
"No?"
He shook his head. "Pain doesn't just go away like that; it takes on new forms, but it lingers. Cuts turn into scars."
She tilted her head. "Since when are you so philosophical?"
"You'd be surprised."
They sat in silence for a moment. Chloe's breath made silvery streaks in the air, like steam from a kettle. Her hip was flush against his shoulder, and Jack could feel her warmth radiating through his t-shirt.
"It's snowing," she murmured.
Jack tipped his head up. Snowflakes fell thick and fast, collecting on the brick chimney like ash. He watched as Chloe stuck out her pink tongue, letting one land on it. Snow was already speckling her dark hair.
"They say no two are alike, you know," she said.
"Hmm?"
"Snowflakes." She smiled. "Each one is unique."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Why not?"
"Well, think about it." Jack frowned. "There's, what? Trillions of snowflakes in the world right now? Now multiply that by four billion years of history." He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "Surely some snowflakes are identical."
"Maybe they are." Chloe shrugged. "That doesn't make them the same, though."
"Yes, it does."
"Nope."
"Chloe," Jack said, exasperated. "Those are literally synonyms."
"No, they aren't." Chloe took a sip of her wine. "You and Jack are identical, aren't you? But you're not the same."
Jack opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Well, crap. She had him, there.
"Now who's philosophical?" he asked.
Chloe smiled. "You'd be surprised."
Jack lay back on the roof. Chloe followed suit, resting her head on his chest. And they lay like that until the clouds gave way to inky black sky, surrounded by their own shower of glittering falling stars. Each one unique.
"Well, how was it?" Logan demanded.
Jack shrugged. "Fine."
"Fine? That's it?"
"What do you want me to say?" Jack asked defensively. "We decorated gingerbread houses. And drank wine."
And also snogged.
But Jack was keeping that part to himself.
Logan flapped a hand, panting slightly. They were jogging through Hyde Park, weaving around the serpentine paths and mothers pushing prams. An errant swan hissed at them. Logan hissed back, looking none too pleased.
Jack hid a smirk.
Admittedly, Logan's irritation probably had less to do with the swan and more to do with the eight pints that he drank last night.
Bloody idiot.
"How was your night?" he asked.
Logan pulled a face. "Messy."
"So I saw."
It had been all over Instagram. Or rather, Jack's Instagram. Eddie had even commented on a post of a piña colada at a dodgy place called Tiki Tiki to congratulate Jack on being "less boring than you appear."
Nice of him, really.
"I'm never drinking with Kate again," Logan moaned.
"Poor thing," Jack said, entirely unsympathetically. "How does it feel to be drank under the table?"
"It was a booth, actually."
"Details, details."
"It was supposed to be a work thing," Logan said, chagrined. "Really, it was." He hurtled over a muddy patch. "But how the hell am I meant to make any headway on the article when Kate's handing me tequila slammers?"
"She's cruel."
"Indeed."
"Not as cruel as Eddie, though."
"I don't know." Logan smirked. "Seems like a funny bloke."
Jack rolled his eyes. "You would like him."
Eddie was exactly the sort of person Logan would choose as a mate. He was a complete nightmare. Hell, Eddie would probably show up to the University Challenge finals tomorrow stoned, pissed, and missing a few teeth from a bar fight.
Jack paused.
Speaking of which.
He took a sharp left. "You know the plan for tomorrow, yeah?"
"Obviously," Logan sighed.
Jack glanced at him sideways. Once more couldn't hurt, right?
"Wait for me outside the studio," Jack reminded him. "From there, we'll go to the dressing room and switch our eyebrows. Then you'll go to the audience and sit with Chloe until the show's over. Any questions?"
"Yeah."
"Shoot."
"What's a studio?"
Jack stopped dead, horrified. Logan jogged back to him.
"I'm joking," Logan sighed. "Look, Jackster, calm down, alright?" He slowed to a walk, patting his brother's shoulder. "We've been over this like, a million times. Everything will go exactly to plan tomorrow; I promise."