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You’ve lived in La Push for about five years now.
You moved there when you were twelve, from the plains to the coast. It was a big, abrupt change; how could it not be, when home had all four seasons and rolling plains of wild grass and La Push was…wet, to say the least.
You honestly hadn’t been too happy about it but…Mom died, Mom who was from the plains, and Dad from the coast who had been struggling too much with the loss of his wife, had needed his family…you really couldn’t be too angry for too long.
And you’ve made friends! Leah, who you grew up borderline idolizing, Jasmine, Kim, Embry, Quil…Jacob.
Jacob was easily your best friend. He hadn’t been the first person to befriend you when you moved to La Push, but he’d been the first to not treat you like glass. Of course the reason you’d moved here was already public knowledge; everybody knows everything on the reservation, and this is true for all reservations, you’re sure. So while everyone had spoken to you with soft voices and hesitant questions, he hadn’t.
You’d felt a tug on one of your long braids and turned your head quickly. There was a boy with similarly long hair, though it flowed a little wild and unbraided. He’d grinned at you with the crooked teeth of youth and asked wanna play tag, Two Braids?
This was a fair nickname, you thought to yourself. The Quileute girls also wore two braids traditionally, but you’d noticed that all of the modern girls wore one braid, a ponytail, or their hair cut short. You were, indeed, the only two braids there.
And so you’d grinned, put your finger to your nose and yelled not it! before taking off. You hadn’t known at the time, but he’d been you at one point. The kid with the dead mom. He knew how to handle you, because it was how he wished he’d been handled.
And the rest was, as they say, history.
Except - and there’s always an except, isn’t there?
Jacob’s been avoiding you. And you know this, because it’s hard to not run into someone in a place as small as La Push. Like, twenty people live here. (You’re exaggerating, of course, but it really feels that way sometimes).
Point is - your best friend is actively playing keep away with himself. He’s not answering your texts, your calls, he even has his dad in on it! Billy at first told you Jake was sick, contagious, but it’s morphed into he’s out, I’ll let him know when he’s back.
You know he doesn’t let Jacob know.
You can’t help but wonder if it’s something you’ve done. Ever since your mom died, you’ve felt like there’s something ugly, something burdensome, something sick inside of you. You feel it, sometimes. Like a hungry mouth devouring every part of you that could be considered good.
You wonder if he’s finally seen it, too.
There was something weird going on, though, too. Jacob had been the one to truly point it out to you, before he’d gotten sucked into whatever it was.
It had started with Jared and Paul. You only really knew them the way you knew people in small towns but weren’t friends with; by association, through other people. Your friend Kim had a massive crush on Jared, and Paul was and always had been the rowdy kid in school. Until suddenly, he wasn’t. Neither of them were in school.
Instead of being in school like the rest of you, they spent their days hanging out with Sam Uley. Someone that, you thought, was too old to be hanging out with high schoolers. They’d cut their hair and gotten matching tattoos and dropped out of school and started hanging out with the older boy and…nothing. It seemed like nobody cared.
Of course there were whispers, moms who knew this was how Paul would end up, but wondering how a fairly studious boy like Jared did. It wasn’t like they’d run in the same crowd, before. But the council members couldn’t rave enough about the three boys. That was…suspicious.
Then Embry had started acting strange. He’d always been easy going, a smile on his face, a soft laugh to offer to a joke. But he’d started being snappy, rolling his eyes and scoffing and stalking away at a joke he’d normally giggle at. And then he’d started hanging out with Jared and Paul and Sam, with the same buzzed hair, with the same tattoo, dropping out of school just the same-
Jacob had been a little more heartbroken than you. Embry’s been his friend since they were in diapers, practically, and suddenly he was worlds away. Metaphorically of course, because again, La Push has like, three houses.
Jacob had confided in you, had told you that he’s uncomfortable, that he’s nervous, because Sam keeps looking at him, the same way he had looked at Embry, the same way he had allegedly looked at Jared and Paul, and his dad was acting weird, the council members were acting weird-
And now.
Now your best friend was sitting outside the small grocery store with the same buzzed hair, the same tattoo, laughing like he’d been a part of the group for years, like he hadn’t just been afraid of them a month ago.
He turns and catches your eye by accident, and you’re quick to turn away, to start stalking away, to try and ignore the burn in your eyes. There’s a moment where you think you’ve gotten away, and then you hear your name being called.
There’s no footsteps behind you to indicate his approach, but there’s a hand on your wrist suddenly. It’s large, larger than it was before, and hot. You jerk away like you’ve been burned.
“Go away,” you hear yourself say, your face burning hot with a multitude of emotions. Embarrassment, anger, betrayal. “You haven’t had any issue staying away, anyway.”
Jacob looks different, larger. He’s shirtless even though it’s easily forty degrees outside, his once long beautiful hair buzzed short. The look on his face is familiar though; soft, mournful.
“Can’t we just talk?” he asks, and his voice is a little deeper, too, huskier. You lean into the anger, the betrayal, trying to ignore the sadness that’s clawed into the contours of your heart.
“You haven’t wanted to talk to me for a month,” you say hotly. “Keep it that way.”
You jerk your wrist out of his hand and he lets you. You know he lets you, because you know there’s no way you could actually fight him off if he didn’t want to let you.
“Please,” he pleads. He’s evidently following you, though you can’t hear his footsteps. Strange; as big as he is, he should be clumsy, noisy. “It’s not what you think.”
“How could you know what I think?” you retort. “I don’t even know what I think. All I know is you started avoiding me, I just wanted to talk, just wanted to see you, you even got your dad in on it-”
“You have to know it’s not what I wanted,” he says, sounding a little desperate now. “Please just - just hear me out.”
You can see your house a few yards away now and you speed up. He’s still pleading as you unlock your front door and step inside, holding it open just enough to speak.
“Stay away from me.”
You slam the door in his face, tears sliding hotly down your face. You were trying to hold them in until you were alone, but you know he’s seen them by the way his face falls.
You end up successfully avoiding your dad and are tucked into bed that night. You’re having a hard time falling asleep, despite crying so much. There’s a tap at your window that you resolve to ignore; it was probably rain. It’s always rain.
However, it happens again. A little louder, not rhythmic enough to be the rain. You sit up and look, eyes feeling heavy and puffy.
It’s Jacob.
He looks as pitiful as a begging dog, a pleading, heartbroken look on his face. He’s still in nothing but cut off shorts. As you approach the window to either shut the blinds or let him in, his face falls even more and you know you look as pitiful as you feel.
And - damn him. You’ve always had a soft spot for that stupid look on his stupid face, the one that says he’s sorry and he cares. You let out a soft, deep breath before pushing the window pane open.
“What do you want?” you ask, all the fire from earlier burnt out and leaving soft, tired tones.
His brows furrow. “I want to explain,” he answers, voice just as soft. “But first, I want to give you a hug.”
You look away, pointedly wrapping your arms around yourself before stepping away from the window enough for him to climb in. You’re in your sleepwear, a pair of sweats and a tanktop, hair hanging long and loose. He huffs softly, tugging lightly at the ends of your hair.
“Can’t call you Two Braids right now,” he says softly, trying out a joke. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of them.”
You don’t laugh. You don’t even smile. You just hug yourself tighter. What little levity was in his face fades away, and he looks mournful and apologetic again.
“Hey,” he says, and his voice is so, so soft. He’s only spoken to you like that when you were crying over something like a fight with your dad, or your mom’s death. He ducks his head to try and meet your eye. “I’m so, so sorry, honey.”
Somehow, though you’re exhausted and should have little to no moisture left in your body, you tear up. Your bottom lip trembles and a small, sad noise escapes you.
“Oh, honey,” Jacob hushes, reaching out and wrapping you in a tight, warm hug. It feels like it warms your bones, like it might heal the cracks in your heart. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re stupid,” you say, voice watery and hurt even as you let yourself be held. “You’re - you’re stupid and mean and I don’t even wanna be your friend anymore-”
He makes a hurt noise in the back of his throat, hugging you harder. “I know,” he says quietly into your hair. “I know I am. I know you don’t.”
You cry quietly for a while before you’re well and truly burnt out. But still, he doesn’t let go of you.
“Can I explain myself?” he asks. “And then you can call me whatever name and tell me to get out of your life if you want.”
You know you won’t do that. But you can hear in his voice that he thinks you will. You nod against his chest, too tired to move away or anything.
He senses that. His large, strong hands grasp your arms as he pulls away, brows furrowed in concern as he guides you to sit on your bed. He kneels on the floor in front of you, looking up at you.
“Can I get you anything?” he whispers. You shake your head, a little shiver going through you since the window is still open and it’s letting in a breeze. Almost quicker than you can process, he’s on his feet and closing it, then back and grabbing your blanket to put around your shoulders.
You look at him with that look he sometimes hates. The one that sees through him, that makes him feel like you know everything about him. He swallows.
“Okay,” he says quietly, mostly to himself. He looks up at you again. “What do you remember from the Quileute stories?”
You furrow your brows, shaking your head slightly in light annoyance. There’s so many. There always is, when it comes to tribal stories. He had to be more specific.
He huffs, realizing this. “About shapeshifters,” he clarifies. Your expression clears of annoyance, but the questioning look is still in your eyes.
“The ancestors used to shapeshift into wolves,” you recount easily enough. “To protect the tribe against the cold ones.”
He’s looking at you like you’re supposed to get it. You wait for the epiphany to hit, but you just give him an annoyed look. He huffs, a little irritated now himself.
“You’re not dumb,” he says bluntly. You scowl.
“And you’re not one for beating around the bush, so just say it,” you snap. He makes an expression that says fair point and comes out with it.
“I’m one. Of them. A shapeshifter. A wolf shifter.”
You look at him through narrowed eyes, considering this. “...okay,” you finally say, and he huffs a laugh.
“Okay? That’s it?” he presses. You wrinkle your nose.
You believe it in the way most natives believe in their stories. It was probably real, in the past, and you wouldn’t be too surprised if it was real now, but you’re also probably not going to fully believe it until you see it.
“I don’t know what else to say,” you say honestly. “You’re…probably telling the truth?”
He lets out a slow breath; he understands. Of course he does. He places his hands on either side of your legs on the bed and leans forward.
“Let me tell you about it,” he says quietly. “I was…I was fine, for a long time, right? You were the reason for that. Kept me…I don’t know, happy. Stable. The first time you shift doesn’t really happen until you’re unstable.” He lets out another sigh. “I’d been feeling kind of off that whole weekend. Not sick, not wrong, just…off. And then my dad got after me for not doing the dishes and I just…I just snapped.”
He looks up at you with haunted eyes. “I almost killed my father. Do you know how lucky I was that I was on my way out the door? Can you imagine a ten foot long wolf in my small trailer?” He shudders, and you swallow.
“Anyway…when I first…shifted, I freaked out. Took me a few hours to shift back. Had to be talked through it.” He huffs another laugh, but there’s no humor in this one. “Remember I told you how Sam had been watching me? This is why. He knew it was gonna happen to me too.”
He pauses, giving you time to consider this. Because after all, he wasn’t just revealing his truth; it was Embry’s, Jared’s, Paul’s, Sam’s. You take a breath.
“And after that?” you ask quietly. “Why did you…why didn’t you tell me?”
Why did you avoid me, why did you abandon me, why why why.
He lets out a slow breath. “I wasn’t…allowed, to tell you,” he says slowly. “Or really be around you. Wolf shifters, especially new ones, are…volatile. Unpredictable. I could have hurt you.”
You take this in. It makes sense. Especially since he said the only thing that had set him off originally was his dad trying to make him do the dishes. You were frustrating by design. And of course Jacob didn’t want to hurt you.
But, you tilt your head. “So why are you allowed to tell me now?” you ask. He looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights and swallows.
“I just…we all decided that you deserved to know,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him. You can tell he’s not telling you something.
“What aren’t you saying?” you press. You poke the skin between his eyebrows. “I can tell when you’re hiding something.”
He huffs, and you can tell it’s both irritation and amusement. “You always know,” he says, lips turning up in a smile. But then he starts to look nervous again. “Look. There’s these…stories that don’t often get told. Really only to the elders, so they’ll remember if something like this ever happens.”
You wait patiently for him to continue. He takes a deep breath.
“There’s this…thing that wolves do,” he starts off slowly. “It’s called…imprinting. It happens when - when the wolf shifter finds the person who is essentially their soulmate,” he finally gets out. “It’s like…the world stops, and gravity isn’t the thing holding you down anymore, it’s her. You’d do anything and be anything for her.”
Your heart starts to pound a little faster. You wonder in the back of your mind if he can hear it. “Are you saying…you…?”
“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “On you. Who could it be, but you?”
“And that’s why you’re allowed to tell me,” you finish, trying not to focus on the impossibleness of forever and soulmates. He nods, eyes on yours to take in your reaction. You’re not having much of one, to his surprise and impatience. “So…what? What now?”
He sighs, reaching out and taking one of your hands in one of his large ones. “I’ll…I’ll do anything you want,” he says earnestly. “Be anything you want. You just gotta tell me.”
You let out a soft breath, and you can see the way he hangs onto the sound. You look down at your enjoined hands.
“I…I think I need some time,” you say quietly. “I…I understand why you stayed away. If everything you’re saying is true, I understand. But…I’m still hurt. Would you have ever even talked to me again if you hadn’t imprinted? Would you have ever told me?”
“Yes,” he says immediately, honestly, and it soothes something in you, fills in one of those cracks he’d left by avoiding you. “I don’t give a shit what Sam says. You’re my best friend, I would have told you. I was getting ready to crack already, to be honest, before I saw you at the store today.”
That puts a small smile on your face. You run your thumb absentmindedly over his knuckles and see the way it affects him; he relaxes, eyes looking up hopefully at you.
“Would you ever…show me?” you ask. “You shifting?”
You can tell it’s only his respect for you and the fragility of the moment that makes him not immediately snap the word no. He swallows it down before thinking.
“You’d have to be…pretty far away from me,” he says slowly. “I could really hurt you.”
You look into his eyes. “Are you…different, when you’re shifted?” you ask. “Would you hurt me even after shifting?”
He purses his lips. “I’m different in the sense that my senses are heightened, I’m maybe a little bit more connected to the primitive part of me,” he answers. “But no, I wouldn’t hurt you after shifting.”
You nod. After a moment, you fall forward, coming to slump against his chest, cheek on his shoulder and soft breath on his neck. He steadies you and wraps an arm around you immediately.
“I changed my mind, I don’t need time,” you mumble. “I just need you around.”
You don’t think you’re imagining the way his heart stutters. He begins to rub his hand against your waist.
“I’m here,” he says, voice low and intimate. “You have me.”
You let out a breath that feels like it’s been stopped up in your diaphragm since he first started avoiding you. You relax so suddenly, eyes fluttering shut, that he makes a small noise of alarm.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks quietly, holding you up with ease. He’s so warm and solid against you, and you trust him with your entirety.
“Mm,” you mumble. “Tired.”
Of course you’re tired. You’ve been going through it emotionally for a month, you’ve spent the better part of the day and night crying your eyes out, and you’ve just been told that wolf shifters are real, and that your best friend is one. You’re a bit overdue for at least a nap.
He makes another small noise, of understanding but with a tinge of hurt, like he knows he’s the cause for it. “Alright, honey,” he says. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He moves you effortlessly, tucking you into your bed and under your blanket. He uses his hand to brush your hair back from your face, and you’re already mostly asleep. You’re already mostly asleep, and you can’t tell if the kiss on your forehead is real or a dream. You know you’re not imagining it when you hear him say, “I’ll be by to pick you up tomorrow, Two Braids.”
That night, your dreams are filled with the howl of wolves and heavy paws hitting muddy ground. They’re chasing something, something you can’t see, and you wonder what a wolf could be bothered to chase and you realize-
You shoot straight up in your bed with a gasp, feeling vaguely sick. You’d completely glossed over this part of the night, so focused on the fact that your best friend was a wolf shifter, that you forgot why wolf shifters exist.
Cold ones.
Vampires.
You can feel that you’re freaking out, but you’re also kind of not? You’re not sure, everything is just kind of blurry and hazy and your chest kind of hurts and your face is feeling a little numb…
Large, warm hands grab your shoulders, and you hear your name as if from underwater.
“Breathe!” the voice demands, low and panicked. “Two Braids, come on. I need you to breathe for me.”
The next breath you take in kind of hurts, big and rattling through you. But it makes things a little clearer, you gain a little feeling back in your face as you continue taking big breaths.
“There you go,” Jacob mutters, hands still holding onto your bare shoulders. “I knew you took the news too easily last night.”
“I don’t…care that you’re a giant dog,” you gasp, chest hurting just a little less as the breaths get easier. “V-V-Vampires.”
His expression twists into something confusing. Disgust mixed with resentment mixed with empathy. He leans in until his lips are on your forehead, pressing a firm kiss before he speaks against your skin. “I’d never let one near you,” he promises in a low voice. You grasp at his shoulders, covered with a shirt as opposed to being bare last night.
“You can’t - you can’t promise that-”
“I absolutely can,” he interrupts, sounding irritated. “You think I’d ever let something hurt you?”
The confidence, the surety in his voice admittedly soothes you a little. You take in one more shaky breath and swallow. Your head clears a little more.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, seemingly registering for the first time since you woke up that this is odd. He runs his fingers through your loose hair.
“Came to pick you up like I promised. It’s later than you usually wake up, so I thought you’d be ready. I could hear you freaking out from the front door.”
You hum and close your eyes. “Where’s my dad?”
“Hanging out with mine,” he says. He finally pulls back to look at you, his eyes big and brown. “You feeling better? Not gonna pass out on me?”
An anxiety shudder rolls through you, but you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you say. “Not gonna pass out. But…I need to get dressed. So…get out.”
He huffs a laugh. You’ve always been that way, blunt, to the point. To some people it came across as rude, but he’s been around you long enough to know that that’s just how you are.
“Alright,” he says. His hands leave trails of warmth down your bare arms until he’s holding your hands. “Dress warm, okay? Season’s getting ready to change.”
If your blood hadn’t drained during your terrifying realization, you might have blushed. You were still wrapping your head around the fact that he had imprinted on you, still wrapping your head around the fact that you two were essentially soulmates. And Jacob had never been particularly shy, so he was being extra open with his affection, what with the forehead kisses and sweet, protective words.
And look - you weren’t blind. Jacob has always been handsome, with rich brown skin, big dark eyes, a pretty smile. But now he was all tall and buff and warm and had a freakin’ tattoo…
Yeah. You could’ve had it worse, you guess.
As you get dressed, in a long sleeve and jeans since he’d said to dress warm, you find yourself faltering. Sure, you could’ve had it worse, but what about him?
You were nothing special, you thought as you put your hair into its signature two braids. You looked like any other rez girl. He could find a hundred of you on any reservation. You tug on the end of your braid uncomfortably.
Was it dumb to wear your hair like this? Jacob always called you Two Braids, did he mean it more as a teasing insult than as something affectionate, like you’d always thought? You look at your face; plain. Should you start wearing makeup?
You didn’t really have time for this. You grab a jacket and then make your way out to the living room where Jacob’s waiting. He looks up from the couch and at you, face spreading into an easy smile. He stands, tweaking the end of one of your braids.
“There you are, pretty girl.”
His voice is warm, honest, and it washes away every doubt you had. You try to hide the fact that you’d been feeling self-conscious with an eye roll, but you can tell he knows by the way his eyes are soft despite his teasing smile.
You two step outside and you shiver; it really was getting cold. Jacob tsks before you hear fabric rustling. You look over just in time to see him shrugging out of his pullover. You immediately begin to protest.
“Relax,” he says, tugging it over your head. He’s grinning as he situates you, smoothing your hair and tucking it behind your ears. “I run at a toasty 108 now that I’m a wolf. I can’t even feel the cold, let alone get sick.”
You were starting to believe him a little more because, wow, the inside of his pullover felt like it just came out of the dryer. It was hot. You shiver again, this time in pleasure.
“Where are we going?” you ask as he starts to walk slowly. He hums, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands. You want to blush like a schoolgirl as he intertwines your fingers.
“Emily’s,” he says. “Emily is…Sam’s imprint. And fiancee. Emily’s place is kind of our base, I guess. I…thought you might want to meet everybody.” He scrunches his face. “Okay, well, you know everybody, but I guess I mean, meet them again under a different context. Embry’s excited to see you. And Em, she could use more girls around.”
You chew on your bottom lip a little, nervous. “They know I know?” you ask. “And…that you…that we…”
Jacob’s face flushes a little bit, which amuses you just a little. “They’re well aware,” he says, voice a little choked. “We can kind of…hear each other’s thoughts? When we’re phased. And I’ve been kind of - thinking about you a lot? Paul calls it Two Braids TV.” Jacob scoffs. “I keep telling him not to call you that. That’s my name.”
You’re both amused and embarrassed by this revelation. “And they’re…okay, with this?” you press. Jacob squeezes your hand.
“I wouldn’t give a shit if they weren’t, but yeah, they’re more than okay with this,” he assures you. You start coming upon a house and Jacob lowers his voice, tugging you to a stop. “Hey, I know you won’t, but just…don’t stare at Emily, okay? It bugs Sam.”
You scowl at him, because you won’t stare, no matter what it is. You were raised better than that. He huffs, both amused and exasperated.
“Right,” he mutters, then tugs you the rest of the way to Emily’s.
You realize right away why Jacob had warned you against staring at Emily. She was beautiful, deep brown skin and shiny black hair, but her face…there was no way to describe it other than it looked like she’d gotten mauled by a bear. She smiled at you, but only the unmarred half of her face moved.
“You must be the girl Jacob’s been driving Sam crazy over,” she says kindly, reaching out to pull you into a hug. “I’m Emily. Sam’s fiancee.”
You introduce yourself, letting yourself be hugged and only slightly awkwardly hugging back. You weren’t big on physical contact, and in your culture, women kind of…act dainty(?) when meeting someone new. That’s not quite right. You just didn’t use all your strength to hug someone or shake their hand; it was seen as a sign of aggression if you did. It was respectful to show deference.
“It’s Two Braids!” someone crows. You look towards who said it and recognize the individual as Paul. Faster than you could blink, a can opener flies at his head. Impossibly, he catches it just as quickly.
“I told you not to call her that!” Jacob snaps, but Paul just grins, looking you over.
“I could always call her babe instead,” he says, sending you a wink. “How ‘bout it, babe?”
There’s a growl that permeates the room and you instinctively look down for an angry dog, but you’re startled to realize that the sound is coming from Jacob. The whole ‘men of this tribe used to phase into wolves to protect the people against vampires and now these teenage boys you’ve grown up with do too’ thing was starting to get a little real. But you scowl at Paul.
“Don’t call me that,” you say firmly. Paul laughs.
“Then what do I call you?”
“I have a name,” you say hotly. “Use it.”
And you are truly in the presence of teenage boys, because a resounding oooooo goes through the room. But Paul just shrugs, grabbing a muffin from the table.
“Hey, glad you finally know our deepest darkest secrets,” a voice says. You turn and let yourself be pulled into another hug, this time by Embry. You grin, hugging him back.
You spend the day getting acquainted with everybody, laughing and helping Emily in the kitchen. You get to see them shift; not all of them, not Jacob, but Jared and Paul, who have patrol. Jacob hovers behind you while it happens, thinking you’re going to freak out and faint or something, but you just watch in wonder.
Jacob’s walking you back home, letting you ponder in silence even though the silence is clearly killing him. You tilt your head to the side to look up at him.
“What color are you?” you ask curiously. He blinks.
“Is that what you’ve been thinking so hard about?” he asks, then laughs. “I don’t know. Brown.”
You frown.
“Not descriptive enough. Try again.”
Jacob huffs. “Reddish brown.”
You roll your eyes. “Come on, Jake, tell me about your fursona.”
He sputters. “My - My fursona? You dick, I turn into an actual wolf, it’s not a fursona-”
He rounds on you as he rants and you laugh, trying to push him away as he pokes at your sides and gently roughhouses you. All the playfighting leads to him in your space, something he seems to realize at the same time. He quiets down, large hands no longer tickling but coming to a rest on your waist. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat skip as you look up at him.
(Little do you know, he hardly hears it over his own as his eyes glance down at your lips).
You suck in a quiet breath. Your mind races. All these years of being best friends, and now the unlikely has happened, and he’s imprinted on you, and you two were soulmates-
“Do you think we would have ended up here, regardless of you shifting and imprinting?”
You have to know before you let him kiss you. If this was all stupid wolf magic, then he could shove it. But-
“I’ve been in love with you since we were thirteen,” he says quietly. His eyes move to meet your own as he says it. “I would have done my damnedest to end up here with you.”
The devotion in his words makes you shiver, and he pulls you closer instinctively, protectively. You believe him, of course you believe him. You let your gaze fall down to his lips in permission.
You hear his intake of breath. He nudges your noses together, both of your eyes’ half closed.
“Last chance to tell me to shove off,” he murmurs, and you feel his warm breath on your lips.
“I gotta do everything around here,” you answer, reaching up to grab his cheeks and pull his mouth to yours.
You’d only ever kissed a couple of boys on a dare during bonfires, so you had no idea it could feel like this. Warm and comfortable, yet new and exhilarating. His lips press firmly yet lovingly to yours, his hands sliding into your hair to hold you reverently. You pull away, flushed and with a smile.
“The braids getting in the way?” you murmur. You feel him smile against your mouth.
“Never,” he answers. And he proves it by pulling you in again.