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"Laila?" Jeremy called, trying to keep the anxious shake from his voice and failing.
A crash sounded and Laila slammed into the door frame, clearly winded despite the short hallway. Jeremy startled. "What's wrong? Another text from your mom? Bryson? You'd think your empty bedroom and a phone number change would get the 'don't fucking contact me' across…" Rattling all that out had not helped her catch her breath. Jeremy wasn't sure he'd ever heard her say that much in one sitting, but the last few months had made her aggressively protective. She drew in a deep sigh and continued. "Want me to get my uncle involved? My parents? I know your evil former step-monster has an in with the cops but I bet with the right names involved we could get an iron clade restraining order!"
The ridiculous name-calling shocked a laugh out of Jeremy. "Oh my god! You sound like Cat!"
"Cat has plenty more less kind names for that man, trust me," her eyes narrowed slightly. "But what's up? You sounded upset."
Even after everything — after the entire team had seen the bruised eye he couldn't hide in December. After Jean had skipped New Year's Eve with Cat's family just to break Jeremy out when he 'd asked. After Laila had rallied the entire Floozie line, Coach Rhemann and William to come strip Jeremy's childhood bedroom for parts and uncover his passport and birth certificate — Jeremy was still a little awed and deeply touched by her ability to fight for him so fiercely, so immediately.
Oh. She was going to kill him.
"ahem I mean… it's not that exactly…" He hopelessly shifted in front of the seven outfits he'd laid out on his bed, for optimum viewing. Maybe she wouldn't notice. A stupid thought, as he watched her expression cycle quickly through concern, confusion and, eventually, realization.
"Oh my god," Laila giggled a little. "You are so dramatic!"
"Laila!" Jeremy's outraged voice cracked at the end, ears hot.
That set her off. Laughs peeled out of her until she was once again breathless and bent over, clutching her knees. "It's almost two weeks out. You're worried about picking an outfit for a date that isn't for another half a month!"
"You know what? I don't even know why I wanted your help," he crossed his arms.
"Jeremy!" Laila pointed at the outfit on the far left, smile slurring her words. "That one is literally all red. What were you going to do? Put on little cupid wings? The reds don't even match!"
Jeremy scowled and crumpled up the maroon slacks before tossing them onto his closet floor. "Are you done?"
Laila wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, really. I've never seen you act like this before. This is very exciting for me!" She took a deep breath, bringing her hand in front of her face in an attempt to school her expression. Another giggle slipped out regardless and she asked "How can I help?"
"I'm just trying toooo…" Jeremy ran his hands through his hair and caught it. He wasn't sure what he wanted to accomplish here. Questions about silly Trojan holidays and if Jeremy had wanted to spend them together — as something more than friends, more than partners — had thrown his brain for a loop. He wanted this with a familiar need so desperate it made him feel uneasy. Stuck. And he was absolutely certain that something would eventually screw it up. He settled for a vague "…find the right vibe?"
Smile calm, Laila raised a calculated brow. Jeremy's romantic life was still a scarcely touched topic between them. Sharing his current apprehension was the closest he had gotten to an honest admission of feelings, instead of his typically forced aloofness. Practically an invitation for commentary. She, thankfully, took pity on him and gestured to the middle two outfits next. "While we are culling the heard, toss the orange dress shirt and those silver palazzo pants from Halloween sophomore year.” She paused before adding “…all the way in the trash actually. I'm begging. Jean will thank me, I promise."
He removed the offensive pieces of clothing, begrudgingly and with a muttered ‘we bought those pants together’. Appeased, she stepped away from the door and started sorting through the options he’d laid out, holding each shirt in front of his torso in a familiar gesture. They had done this dance before. Whenever the two had gone to a bar, a club. Every time Laila was prepping for a first date and every night out with Cat since. Jeremy almost depended on Laila’s fashion advice and Laila always loved a second opinion. Despite the ritualistic practice, this was still a first. Jeremy had never asked for help for a date. He picked his thumb nail and tried not shift too much.
The black button up from his grandmother’s funeral and the suit Jeremy had worn to this year’s Fall Banquet were swiftly added to the discard pile. Laila was holding the blue polo he’d worn to High School graduation with a considering eye when she couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. "So formal,” she said, with only a touch of judgment. “Where’s our boy taking you?”
Jeremy winced. “Uhhh I’m not really sure… he just said dinner.”
“With him, that very well could mean this apartment. And if not, what? You were going to get on his motorcycle in dress pants?” The slant of her eyebrows was incredulous.
“…is that bad?”
“Jeremy!”
Jeremy threw his hands in the air. “Cat’s always getting on my case not to wear shorts on the bike! I thought I just needed to cover my legs!”
Laila threw the polo on top of the growing stack of no’s on the floor. She didn’t even glance back at the other outfits on the bed before declaring them no good. “This is ridiculous, none of these clothes are you. We need jeans. And sweaters. You should feel comfortable.” Before he knew it, she was already going through his dresser drawers, pulling out his favorite quarter-zip and pair of slim cut Levi’s. Neatly stacking the two, she handed them off to Jeremy. “Here’s what you’re wearing.”
“Oh.” And Jeremy wondered if dressing for a first date was meant to be so easy. “It’s not too simple? You think this will impress him?”
At his words, something in Laila’s gaze broke. Her eyes softened and she reached out to put both hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. “You don’t need to do any convincing… I’m pretty sure you could sneeze in his face and he’d still look at you like you hung the moon.”
“Okay, I know you love her, but you need to stop spending all your time with Cat. You’re starting to freak me ou-AH!” Jeremy yelped, as one of Laila’s hands moved up and lightly smacked the back of his head instead. Her laughter was soft this time. Teasing and fond as he rubbed at an imaginary bump on his scalp, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout. Mood once again familiar enough for vulnerability, Jeremy pushed. “You don’t think it’s a little corny?”
Laila’s nose crinkled in friendly suspicion. “Corny?”
“You know,” Jeremy sat on his clothing-ridden bed, hands moving over his heart in an only partially-exaggerated swoon. “Romantic first date on Valentine’s Day? Rom-com vibes and candle-lit dinners?”
Laila Dermott wasn’t just his best friend. Jeremy had grown up with a sister, and Laila Dermott was nothing like her either. There was something treasured about a person who understood parts of him so intimately that Jeremy didn’t have to explain with words. Laila’s understanding came from practice. A presence the day that day Jeremy cracked and tried to mend ceramic with cloth. And a rare desire to stick around and offer glue.
She made sure to move the extra clothing to Jeremy’s lap before moving to sit next to him. “If you don’t like it, you can let him know. I’m sure he would want to know. But if you ask me…” Laila shrugged. “I don’t know. I think you deserve a little corny, for someone to be sweet with you. You both do.” She took a breath before adding “Corny isn’t bad.”
Jeremy shook out his hands, like the thick, anxious feeling was a viscous fluid he could fling off. “I just don’t want to screw this up,” he finally said, already-masticated thumb nail between his teeth. “This all feels a little too good to be true and I don’t want to screw it up.”
Lips twisted, Laila let a slow breath out her nose.“We really didn’t break enough of your mom’s shit when we broke you out…”
He abruptly pulled his hand away from his mouth in shock. “You broke stuff?”
His concern was ignored. “Jeremy. I know you have a very good reason for being scared right now so, I’m going to say this first part and you are just going to have to trust me. Mistakes are okay.” Her fingers tangled with his own. “I’m not going to tell you not to worry because that would be stupid advice. But mistakes are normal. You are going to make them.”
He’d struggled through enough therapy to know her words weren’t intended as a slight against him. Still, this wasn’t the truth that Jeremy wanted to hear. Laila wasn’t done. “You want this to work? You want to know the secret? Be yourself and show up. That’s all you have to do on this date. Try.”
Jeremy’s nervous teeth found the inside of his cheek.“That just seems really easy.”
Laila hands squeezed tighter, grounding him. “It should be! Plus you are the most diligent person I know. You love to give something an honest effort.” The statement wasn’t funny but it made Jeremy laugh anyway. “Plus, are we talking about the same guy? Have you seen the way Jean looks at you? It’s sickening. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t show up to this date with ring.”
The smile that lit Jeremy’s face was a little love struck. He could feel it in his teeth, ached with it, and he moved one hand to cover it the best he could. “He’s not that bad.”
Laila’s expression went serious as stone. “Jeremy… or should I say Jeremy,” her voice going sultry in her impression of Jean’s pronunciation. Jeremy threw the spare clothes at her face.
♡
“You’re so lucky that you are my best friend,” Cat told him as she picked up the knife he’d used to mince the garlic. “Cooking for a man, on Valentine’s Day. I think my mom still dreams about this scenario.”
“I only asked if you would supervise.” Jean lightly shooed her until she put the knife back down. Laila had kindly offered to distract Jeremy for a few hours, under the ruse of picking an outfit for her own date, so that Jean could prepare the food for tonight at the lofts. Time that, so far, had mostly been spent bickering with Cat. “A role I wish you would stick to.”
She crossed her arms over chest and narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t sound very grateful. I have hot date tonight too, thank you very much. But I’m still here! Helping you.”
Jean sighed. Heavily. He turned to press a kiss to the side of her head. Quickly, so as not to take too much attention away what was cooking in the pan. When he spoke, it was a with what he hoped was by now the expected dose of sarcasm. “Thank you, my dearest friend Catalina. Whatever would I do without you. Do not touch my garlic.”
“Are you sure you chopped it enough? That piece right there looks kind of big.”
There was no way Cat was commenting on one specific granule of garlic but Jean absolutely refused to give in and check. Regretfully, he wondered why he thought this would be a good idea. “It is going on bread. Cease this, you are not allowed to be more nervous about my Valentine’s Day than I am.”
“Jeaaaannn.” Cat, the same person who had spent thirty minutes lecturing him on kitchen safety the very first day she met him, shook him. Or attempted to. Jean was still four inches taller. “I can’t help it! I’m rooting for you guys. And I feel like I spent the last eight months watching the world’s slowest rom-com! Be glad I’m not sick of it.”
Hands successfully de-tasked, Cat moved to wrap her arms around his stomach, chin on his shoulder as she watched him cook.
Jean didn’t know how long it would take him to get used to all the gentle ways these Trojans liked to touch. Kisses from Cat and Laila on foreheads, cheeks, hands. The elaborate handshake Derek and Derrick had made him learn, that Tanner had begged Jean for months to teach him. Jeremy softly poking his face to get his attention. A distinctively-freckled pinkie finger tapping his own during boring marketing classes. Jeremy’s foot brushing against Jean’s shoe whenever he said something Jeremy thought was kind. Arms around his shoulders after a game was won and a smile brighter than the sun.
Cat was certainly the most shameless of the lot of them, but Jean had grown used to it. He’d come to expect it from her. Or, if he was feeling particularly sentimental, crave it.
Cat usually found a way to make him regret that.
“You’re not even a little nervous? I think I nearly shit my pants three times in the week and a half before Laila and I’s first date…” She wondered, right next to his ear.
“Catalina!” Voice rough with disgust, he elbowed out of her embrace. “I am cooking, get out.”
Predictably, Cat ignored him. Instead she laughed and made herself comfortable on the only available counter space. “I just want you to know it’s okay if you are! Nervous, I mean. Like pre- first date jitters.”
Jean found himself sounding out that last ridiculous word, out of habit. Half the time, he was convinced Americans were making words up. It seemed to him like his best friend was determined to expose him to the most impractical and needless words in the English language purely to watch him struggle. If her delighted smile was anything to go by, Cat had succeeded this time. “It’s just a silly word for nerves.”
It took inordinate effort not to ask her why she couldn’t have just said that. He had already given her far too much satisfaction as it was. Jean settled for answering the question he had previously ignored. “It’s more complicated than that.”
A lazy finger tapped his nose. “Well aren’t you complex! C’mon give me a peak behind your deep, dark, mysterious eyes.” Cat twirled a wrist around his head. “What’s going on in there?” Jean scowled and swatted her hand away.
“I’m… apprehensive.”
“Well, now. That’s just a fancy word for nervous. What are you nervous about? I’ve heard it all I promise.” Cat counted her fingers as she listed the reasons Jean’s heart might feel a little tight in his chest. “That you won’t be able to hold a conversation? That you might spill water on yourself? That you are a loud chewer?”
That last one threw him off. “What? No,” he said, with finality. How would he knew if he chewed too loud? Was that something a person might care about?
“Oh are you like Cody? Do I need to give the ‘trust me, he likes you’ pep talk?”
Jean shared an unblinking stare with Jabberwocky across the kitchen, resting on one of his many dog beds. If the beast didn’t have a brain the size of a walnut, he’d almost imagine sympathy in his eyes. Two Moreaus sighed in tandem. “I need you to tell me if these mushrooms are done. I told you, I’m not nervous.”
Counter height gave Cat the perfect view of the pan. “Oh shoot! Yeah those look perfect.” Jean moved to turn the burner off, removing the pan from the heat of the stove. He could feel her eyes on his face, searching for tells. “As long as you’re okay…” and her sentiment seemed genuine, no longer prying.
A small, not insignificant part of Jean wondered if he should be. Wondered how he could find peace with a reality that he would’ve locked away as a useless, forbidden dream mere months ago. He couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment ‘the rules’ and what might be against them stopped weighing on his mind.
There were so many ways that this could hurt him. Jeremy graduated in May and would likely sign a contract out of state. Jean’s debt to the Moriyama’s still hung over his head, a life that put the ones he cared for at constant risk. Even without that threat, who is to say if it would ever be safe for the two of them to behave like a couple in public.
There was no way of knowing if a relationship would last. Jeremy could decide Jean no longer deserving. If someone could fall in love, surely they could fall out of it. Jean wouldn’t force him to stay. Would never sacrifice Jeremy’s own happiness that was so hard won for him this year.
None of those concerns mattered the way they should. Any future pain would be worth it, regardless. Jean knew.
Jean allowed his eyes to hold Cat’s as he nodded. “I’m okay.” Rather than let that statement stand on it’s own, he chose to share. “It is a good apprehension,” he assured, lip quirking of it’s own volition.
Her smile was soft, head shaking. She hopped off the counter. “Well, then. Once you’re done assembling that, the pan goes in the oven for a 45 minutes. I’m off to doll myself up. I don’t know if you heard but my rich-kid girlfriend is taking me to the nicest restaurant in town.” She was halfway through her bedroom door when she added an enthusiastic “Oo oo let’s do a fashion show? I want to see what you picked to wear before Jeremy sees.”
Fuck.
He called after her. “Catalina?”
Jean hoped the question didn’t sound as desperate as it felt.
♡
When Jeremy Knox tried to leave his bedroom at 7:23pm on February 14th, he found himself quickly and rudely shoved back in, door slammed.
“What the heck, Cat?”
Hand still on his chest and dressed to the nines for her own date, Cat offered a very helpful “Sorry, you can’t go out there yet.”
“What? Why-” Three fingers cut-off his questioning. His apartment bouncer shot an inpatient Shhh, which was as good as useless with the hand already pressed to his mouth. “I hope you washed that hand recently,” he scoffed through smooshed lips. Cat let out an offended gasp but before she could say anything a knock sounded at Jeremy’s bedroom door. A grin stretched across her face and she stepped aside. Presumably to give Jeremy permission to leave his own room in the apartment neither of them paid for.
Understanding, and a sense of giddy anxiety, dawned on him as he twisted the door knob but he was still unprepared for what waited for him on the other side.
Jeremy swore he knew all of Jean’s blue shirts by heart by now. It was probably for the best, he thought, that this was the first time he ever saw this turtleneck. The fit was loose, comfortable, but the color was a deep Navy that reflected off Jean’s gray eyes in a way that made them stormy and mesmerizing. The image would certainly haunt Jeremy at night for years to come.
He must have been stunned stupid. That’s the only explanation he could grasp for why he reached his hand out and stuttered “H-hi! Jeremy Knox,” to the man he shared a bedroom with for two months the previous summer. A hardly concealed snort sounded from behind him. Snickers from the hall told Jeremy that Laila had heard him too.
Seemingly oblivious to Jeremy’s struggle, Jean didn’t laugh. Instead he shifted, brows pressed together. Three stems of spiky blue flowers were pushed into Jeremy’s open palm. The flowers were small, almost like daisies, and looked like they had been picked by hand instead of bought from a shop. Wild flowers. A tidy bow was tied around them with blue ribbon. Jeremy wasn’t sure where they had come from. He couldn’t remember seeing Jean’s hands when he’d opened the door. “For you,” Jean said and Jeremy wrapped his fingers around them and was once again caught in Jean’s gaze.
No one had ever picked him flowers before. Not even Leo, at their most nauseatingly attached.
Laila cleared her throat as she pushed past them and grabbed her girlfriend’s hand. “I think we will be off! Remember, deal was our ‘curfew’ is at ten-thirty. And then we have plans…”
“So please be out walking Jab by then,” Cat interrupted. “Unless you want to hear something that will irrevocably change our friendship forever.”
Spell broken, Jean rolled his eyes. Jeremy clutched his flowers closer to his chest.
Leaving his room into the open floor plan of the loft left Jeremy speechless a third time. Laila avoided using the florescent and sterile overhead lighting that came pre-installed in their industrial apartment on a good day. Over the last few months, a plethora of lamps had been thrifted. The Christmas lights had been left up long after the paper snowflakes the four had cut for holiday decorations had made it to the trash. But now almost every surface was covered in handfuls of little tea candles. Red tissue paper hearts were taped to the lamp shades that were lit, giving the room a pink glow. Maybe it was a fire hazard, but Jeremy couldn’t bring himself to care.
The coffee table had a lace table runner Jeremy had never seen before and two place settings, a basket of lightly steaming bread in the center surrounded by more candles. Every single throw pillow and blanket in the apartment was artfully displayed on the couch, forcing the only two open seats sinfully close together and smack dab in the middle.
Evidently, that last part was a surprise to Jean as well. “Laila said she would finish when Cat went to stop you. So that I could knock! I didn’t mean to imply- I only mean we do not have to-” he fussed. Fingers starting to pluck at the closest pillow before Jeremy stopped him, hand on Jean’s arm.
“You did this? For me?” When Jean had first suggested spending Valentine’s together, a part of Jeremy imagined something like this. Actually expecting it had felt like asking for eventual disappointment. It was so much effort, with very little function. What was the point of lighting a million candles when they had perfectly good overhead lighting? Jeremy wasn’t sure what he possibly could have done to deserve something so sweet.
“Not entirely my doing,” Jean amended. “I have never… wooed someone before. Cat had a lot of ideas. Apparently, Laila did too.” He gestured to the couch. Very rarely was Jeremy able to catch nervousness in Jean’s expressions. More often than not, he wore indifference like a shield. Now he was fidgeting with his shirt sleeves. “I made a plan. I was very confident about it, until now.”
Jeremy Knox had a repertoire of smiles. Most of them assured, hopeful, proud. Most of them cheerful. All of them with a purpose, a job. He used them to captain and calm his Trojans, persuade the press. He used to use them in desperate attempts to make his mother happy. The one he wore now felt fragile and a little silly. Out of his control. “Where did you even get this many candles?”
Jean put his face in his hands and groaned. “Cat took me to a store called Ikea.” Something about picturing Jean and Cat trying to navigate the same place Laila called ‘a modernist hell scape’ had Jeremy laughing so hard he was near tears.
So much more thought than he would have ever dreamed had gone into this date. Thought for Jeremy. Everything had been perfectly timed, so that the food was cooled enough to eat but still hot. ‘You are never patient enough to wait,’ Jean had explained.For dinner, a creamy mushroom lasagna. Something Jeremy couldn’t imagine Jean had an easy time calculating the macros for but it was brushed away with a simple ‘Your favorite, Cat and Laila confirmed’.
Somehow, Jean had found a DVD copy of Eternally Yours.
“You hate watching movies,” Jeremy had stated with certainty, eyes narrowed.
“But you don’t. This is the one with your grandmother, yes?”
They ate while the movie played, side by side on the couch but just barely touching. The pillows inevitably provided something comfortable to lounge against instead of forcing proximity. One of Jean’s long arms laid across the back of the couch, pinkie finger just barely touching Jeremy’s shoulder and thigh brushing his.
A glass vase, for Jeremy’s flowers, was procured and placed on the coffee table before Jean had plated their food. Jeremy found his eye wandering to them every so often, instead of paying attention to his Nan on screen. Wondering what the blue in the flowers would look like next to Jean’s eyes.
“You didn’t warn me this movie would be a musical,” Jean noted, as Angelica Laslo sang to a clearly fake bird like a Disney Princess.
“Bit of a craze from the studio in the 50s,” Jeremy explained. “Singing in the Rain and all those famous ones. I think this one was considered a flop though.” He tried to pull his face into an apologetic grimace but he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. Jean was visibly pouting. “If you don’t like it, we don’t have to watch.”
“How do they make it anywhere on time when they are always singing? It just seems impractical.” Jean liked to deny his and Jab’s resemblance but the sigh he made after this statement had the dramatics of a dog who had been ignored for 15 minutes. Jeremy took a bite of garlic bread to hide his giggles. “It’s silly but not bad. Your grandmother had a lovely voice.”
“Too bad it didn’t run in the family, huh?” The month where his Nan tried to teach him to sing was fond in his memory, but she had not had an easy time.
Jean shook his head. “No. You don’t need any more distractions from the court.”
“Maybe I’d be a famous, Grammy-winning artist instead! No Exy,” Jeremy teased.
Gray caught brown. “No I can’t entertain this fantasy. Then we’d never have met.” Jeremy’s heart fluttered. Maybe Jean could hear it, because his cheeks flashed bright pink.
“You’re right, I wouldn’t want that.”
Time passed too quickly. Plates were scrapped clean, food so good Jeremy had gotten seconds. The movie was almost two and a half hours long and was hardly an Oscar winner, but the two of them didn’t pay much attention to it. Jean was distracting. Criticisms of the plot or questions about Jeremy’s grandmother were easy, fun, compared to the heart racing moments when Jean’s arm would brush against his shoulders. There was no way Jean knew about the ‘stretch and kiss’ but Jeremy couldn’t stop thinking about it anyway.
By the time the credits had rolled, and the dishes were done, leftovers put away, Cat and Laila were already stumbling a little wine-drunk and giggly through the apartment door and Jeremy was kicking himself over missed opportunities.
“I’d guess we’ve got five minutes before we hear something we don’t want to,” Jeremy whispered. A crash sounded, too long after a bedroom door had already been shut. “Maybe two. I’ll get the dog. You put out the rest of the candles.”
The night was cool enough to need jackets. They made quick work of bundling up, coats zipped and socked feet haphazardly shoved into shoes in just a few minutes. Jab was absolutely ecstatic for the first few minutes of the walk. He kept tangling his leash around their legs, jumping up and down in his excitement to be spending time with two of his favorite people, doing his favorite thing. Jeremy thought this was charming, so he cooed at the puppy even as Jean commanded ‘au pied, au pied’ in vain. Eventually, Jabberwocky calmed down enough to trot happily between them, Jean shielding his tiny body from the street.
“How long do you think they’ll need?” Jeremy wondered. It was a rare clear evening for February. Star gazing in LA was always impossible but the blue of the night sky wasn’t too far off from the color shirt Jean was still wearing under his jacket. Somehow, Jeremy was growing impossibly more fond of blue. He would be happy to stay out longer, but it was getting late. If Jean wanted to sleep…
“I’d rather not risk it.” Jeremy swore he caught the smallest smile on Jean’s lips as he spoke, which made his own stretch across his face in turn. Stormy eyes were quickly diverted and Jean changed the subject.“Was it a good one?
It took Jeremy a few seconds to understand what he was asking. “Tonight?” Jean nodded. “It was wonderful!”
“Good!” With that declaration, Jean’s tone was precise and certain but the following words were softer. “It’s what you deserve.”
There was a time, not too long ago, that Jeremy hated to hear that word leave Jean’s mouth. Now it made his heart stop, took his breath away. It was crazy what context could change. Thoughts of how he didn’t want it end were interrupted by spiky blue in his peripheral.
“Jean Moreau,” Jeremy bantered, a giggle in his voice. “Did you steal my flowers from the neighbors garden?”
If it was Jeremy’s goal to make Jean blush again, he had failed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I stole them from Rhemann’s.”
“HA! Oh I’m sure he loved that. The Golden Raven stealing flowers from his garden for a date.”
“…I asked first.” And that admission had pale cheeks reddening. James Rhemann wouldn’t miss a handful of wildflowers in his backyard, but it still would’ve felt wrong to Jean just to take them.
Jeremy did not have the same qualms. Quick hands plucked a singular bud, stem only a couple inches long. He thought back to his own bouquet of them, tied with bow and in a vase at home. He twirled the flower between his fingers, before offering it to Jean. “I just want to try something. Can I?” Jeremy asked. Even without knowing what Jeremy could possibly be planning, Jean only hesitated briefly. Nodding his head with an intense gaze.
Cornflower blue looked good on Jean, tucked into black curls. Dark colors would always flatter him and never only because he was more comfortable in them. But the eyes looking at Jeremy now seemed ten times brighter than he’d ever seen them. Pulling his hand away seemed herculean and so Jeremy didn’t. Gentle fingers caught in soft hair, a thumb pressed to a strong cheekbone. Maybe the same curious part of him that placed the stem behind Jean’s ear also wondered what would happen if their faces stayed so close together. But Jeremy didn’t want to be the one to initiate.
Jean moved slowly, like Jeremy was something that could be easily spooked. A hand came up to match his own, brushing against freckles the mirror told him were there.
In the grand scheme of first kisses, it shouldn’t have been anything special. Jeremy had certainly had filthier but Jean’s lips were soft, the continuing stroke of his thumb across Jeremy’s cheek softer. It wasn’t frantic or passionate but it was intimate all the same. Too short, but not quick. Sweeter than Jeremy had the words to describe.
He held his breath, waiting for more, before a tug at his wrist reminded him the reason they had ventured outside. Jab had grown tired of standing still. Jeremy’s face felt hot when Jean finally stepped away. His heart didn’t have a chance to worry, to crack, before cautious and scarred fingers were nudging his own.
“Time to head home?” Jean asked.
Instead of answering, Jeremy tangled Jean’s fingers with his.