27 | Ganache

We didn't get ice cream, unfortunately, but we got home alright and picked up ganache on the way.

The house never looked as empty as I saw it. Jackson and I stopped at the foot of the steps and I cocked an eyebrow at him. I had messed up my hair lots of times in the car, and I also had taken the liberty to remove these death traps we called 'heels'. It made me wonder how those other girls could walk with needles on their feet.

"Are you sure you're okay slee – staying with me here?" he asked, looking at me. I must've looked like a disaster.

"Jackson, I already agreed with you," I insisted. I was so tired – almost insanity kind of tired. "Now stop being a baby and carry me."

He seemed taken aback by the request, "Wh – what?"

I stepped forwards towards him. In his eyes, I saw my own, cold and dead and heavy. "Carry me upstairs," I made sure to pronounce everything slowly.

"Y – you want me to . . . "

No, I wasn't expecting bridal style, swoop up to the rose petal bedroom and the satin sheets. I just wanted a ride up because my feet were worn out nubs and I was in no mood to argue with Jackson about it. I hated explaining so I just took the chance to come up behind him and try to climb his back.

"Wait, wait, wait! Ollie you're – " he cut himself off with a grunt when I was finally hitched on him. I locked my arms around his neck and my complaints began to be muffled when I buried my head on his shoulder.

Jackson was wheezing. But instead of dropping me, he just caved in and took both my legs to wrap around his waist. "You're so heavy," he grunted as he heaved me up to make sure I wouldn't slide off.

"Onward my lousy steed!" I grumbled. Eyelids getting heavy. Need to restore energy. God, why couldn't I be in my bedroom instead, cuddled up with the laptop?

"No, no," Jackson let out a big breath. We weren't even moving yet. "I can't carry you, Ollie. Get off my back." He dropped his hands, slumping. I answered with a groan and incoherent words.

"Bastard! I'm tired!" I whined. He crouched so I could get off. So much for a ride to the bedroom.

"It's just stairs, sweets. I'm going to collapse halfway up."

More grunting and groaning. In defiance, I went up a few steps, sat down, and laid my head on the higher step and cushioning it with my arms. Wow, it was so comfortable in here. No wonder John and Sherlock slept on a flight of stairs once. Jackson moved up above me and tapped my head with one foot.

"Sweets, it's just nearby. You're not going to walk a marathon. Get up, please," he urged on. I closed my eyes and yawned. No, not until he carried me.

I was almost into the abyss of slumber when I heard Jackson's footsteps fading. He was gone. Seriously? Was he going to leave me alone here? With his parents finding me the next morning? And he said he was the one who wanted me with him tonight.

Whimpering a bit, I fought with myself. My body was too worn out to climb up and follow him up there. But I also wanted to go to his bedroom and rest on the his soft bed. Maybe just a bit more effort, Ollie . . .

I tried to get up.

No, screw it. Let them find me here in the morning and let my future-self suffer in embarrassment.

But Jackson came back, five minutes later. Or more than that, probably. I didn't count. I heard a bit of squeaking when he came down. He had something with him.

I took a peek, opening my eyes. Jackson was staring down at me, and behind him was a wheelbarrow. Cool. "Ollie," he said sternly, "Just one flight of stairs then I'm going to push you to the bedroom.

"One . . . flight . . . " I muttered. My eyelids drooped and my head lolled back. I heard him sigh exasperatedly.

Jackson wasn't one to wait around. He gave up and hoisted me onto his back, and that earned him a smile of satisfaction from me. I was half asleep as he wheezed and bore sweat just carrying me upstairs. As soon as we were up the top, he dropped me and went down to the landing to get the wheelbarrow.

"You, Oliver Ridge, are impossible," he said as he put me on the wheelbarrow. He began to push and roll us through the hallways. I would only open my eyes occasionally to see where we were.

"You are something. How could someone so thin be that heavy?" I heard the effort in his voice as he pushed.

"Sugar," I mumbled.

It was always sugar.

"You know," said he, "If you aren't so childish, I will be the one here in this wheelbarrow, lazing around."

We reached his bedroom. Just one last carrying session. But he didn't bother to pick me up anymore. Jackson pushed the wheelbarrow inside and tipped it so I dropped into the bed. I let out a small yelp before landing face-first into a pillow. Ouch.

"Now you go sleep," Jackson leaned over and gave me a kiss on the head.

He didn't snuggle up to me, right away. I watched as he went to the bathroom to change and wash up. And that reminded me that I didn't want to sleep in a constricting blouse. I needed clothes. So I sat up and waited for him to finish.

And oh my cakes, he came out half-naked.

Shamelessly, I let my eyes rake over his abdomen. He wasn't that muscled like his brother, but there were prominent points. There was an emerging six pack that wasn't too heavily outlined and I wondered where he worked out. Hot damn, it was a sight.

Jackson began to turn red as I ogled. "I thought you were asleep," he tossed his shirt into the hamper.

"I need clothes," I said bluntly, looking back up to his face. Beautiful.

"You – you don't mind if I'm . . .?" hesitantly, he pointed to himself. I shook my head and told him that I didn't mind at all.

"I could take off mine so we can be fair," I suggested.

His cheeks went into a deeper shade of red. How could he be so flustered? That was a body to show off. "No – no, thanks. I'll fetch something from the box for you if you want."

I nodded aimlessly and frowned when he disappeared out the door. Then, Jackson came back with yoga pants and a tank top for me as I played with his sheets. The tiredness was going away, and I was starting to feel that later, I wouldn't be able to fall asleep.

"Oh, I get it. Now, you're not tired anymore," he said as he handed me the clothes, "Must be magic."

I stood up from the bed to head to the bathroom. Flipping him off for the rude comment, I slipped inside. Quickly, I splashed my face to keep myself awake. I suddenly craved for our midnight talks, when it was just me and him.

After changing in the bathroom, Jackson blushed once again upon seeing me. The clothes were tight around my body a bit, but I could sleep well in them. I combed a hand through my locks and winced as I felt them tangled and rigid with hairspray.

Prying my hand off my hair finally, I stared confusedly at Jackson, who was on the couch, but not the bed. "What are you doing there?"

"Just . . . I wondered that you need your space in the bed so I'm . . . I'm sleeping here," he stammered, feeling around the couch uncomfortably. I jumped on the bed, sighing in relief as my head hit the pillows.

"You idiot teddy bear, I need you here," my voice was muffled through the pillow.

"But are you sure . . . ?"

"Chocolate cakes, will you shut up?"

He did as I said and crawled into the bed. I pulled him close to me, not minding the lack of clothes because I just wanted to suck all the warmth and cuddles from him. I wrapped my arms around him and put my leg over his. He felt tense, awkward with the position.

I suppressed the urge to tell him not to act like it was a big deal.

"Abs are weird," I piped up suddenly as I clutched onto him tightly.

"Go to sleep, sweets," he draped an arm over his eyes. I tried to shut my eyes but for some reason, they weren't tired anymore. Maybe his bed did have magic.

"But what do they feel like?" I continued in wonder, "Do they feel bouncy? Or hard? Like chocolate bars? Do they just pop out of you when you run the treadmill? What if it's just a giant chocolate bar that stuck in your stomach?" As I said these, I stared at his abs.

"I'm not going to answer that."

I gazed at Jackson for a while, as he tried to sleep. Then, I pulled the covers over us and I slowly put a hand hovering over his abdomen. Just as I was going to lower my finger, he spoke, "You better not be poking those."

And like the rebel I was, I brought my finger down and poked him. Hard. It felt hard. So there was a giant chocolate bar inside him. Huh, who knew?

So what if I licked it . . . ?

"Will I taste the chocolate bar?" I said my thoughts out loud. Jackson peeked from his arm and turned to his side so that he faced me. Our faces were so close. So close.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I'll probably get to lick them sooner or later," I shrugged, putting aside the idea later on. I couldn't just lick him in his sleep, could I?

"Get . . . to . . . li – lick?" he rambled on, flustered. He was turning red again, oops. "Ollie, just please, please go to sleep. We're both tired." He buried his face on my neck. I reached up to stroke his hair.

"But I'm not tired."

He didn't say anything back. I frowned and tugged at his hair to keep him talking. But he still was silent. "Jackson, Jackson, I have something to tell you," I told him.

No response.

"Jackson please," I begged. I had to tell him.

"Fine, this is the last time," he lifted his head from my neck and faced me after kissing my nose. He seemed to sense my nervousness because he searched my face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I saw my Dad at the party," I told him. I couldn't shake off Dad's cold voice and fiery gazes. Just being with Jackson made me think back what his demands were. My father had been practically asking me to break a boy's heart.

"You would see him, of course. My dad invited him over, I know," Jackson said. He took hold of my hand and settled them between us.

"I didn't talk to him," I recounted, "But I bumped to him there. And he pretended he didn't recognize me. But I keep thinking what I should tell him the next time we meet. I have nothing on me."

"Maybe feed him just little things that wouldn't help him that much," he advised, "He should know from the start that this is useless."

"Yeah, and when I heard the story from your dad, I feel so guilty now."

What should I do then? Hear the story from Dad's side to find a valid reason why he was risking his daughter for this. "You shouldn't think about it much," said Jackson, kissing my forehead.

"And I've been meaning to ask you something. I think that this is the right time to say it," Jackson looked directly at my eyes. My own widened in anticipation. Please, let it be a stupid thing worthy of Tumblr at three a.m.

"You haven't slept with anyone before, but have you ever had a boyfriend, Ollie?" he asked carefully. I lied in a daze for a while, wondering . . . guessing. He was thinking of relationships now?

A long pregnant silence followed. "No," I replied, "Who would want to date this?" I pointed to my face. My hideous face.

"What? You're . . . you're cool. Why wouldn't anyone?" he asked. I wanted to roll my eyes and tell him that it was obvious.

"I didn't have one, no."

His face transitioned into many emotions. I wondered what he was thinking. Disbelief, maybe? I didn't much involve myself in romance, because in my head I was permanently married to Castiel. But when it came to real life, I knew that there were more important things.

"Well?" he said.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to ask me if I ever had a girlfriend?"

My eyebrows rose. I found myself moving closer to him. "Okay, have you ever had a girlfriend?" There should be flocks of girls vying for his attention, right? Wasn't he a better option than Brennan?

"No, sweets, never had one."

"Huh," I chuckled, "I'm not surprised. With that attitude of yours, who would like you? I mean, you even complain when you carried me."

"It's because you're heavy!"

I laughed harder. Cakes, he got so riled up when I teased him. "So why the question?"

"Ah, nothing. Nothing. Just wondering what you would do with a boyfriend," he avoided my eyes, "So what would you do with a boyfriend?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not even that good of a kisser, you can find out yourself if you like." He turned red at that statement. "But, I don't know. Do you talk to him? Feed him? Where do you leave him when you go to the bathroom?"

"I don't think that's how it works, sweets. But say if you had a boyfriend, what will you do with him?"

"A boyfriend," I smirked slyly, "like . . . you?"

He became jittery, "Um, ah, metaphorically speaking?"

This was a moment where he was clueless how adorable he was. I wished badly that I had energy to snatch my phone and take a picture. "Like I said, I don't know," I moved my gaze to the ceiling, pondering over it.

"Maybe, I'll have him carry food for me. Spoon-feed me. Put food in my mouth whenever I want him. I'd watch Sherlock and Supernatural with him, I'd let him carry me properly, and I'll have him share puns with me. We'll go to Tumblr together, eat together, sleep together, act stupid together. He'll be my . . . best friend? I think so."

"Okay," Jackson said in a small voice, "No cuddling, playing with the hair or hugging or anything else?"

I turned my head to look at him. Ah, there he was, mentally taking notes in his head. "Cuddling only when I'm in the mood, and no, no touchy on my hair. Hugging, fine, yes. Anything else? None."

He cleared his throat quite loudly, "And what do you look for in a guy?"

"Are you seriously going to change yourself just to meet my standards?"

"Just answer it!" his lip trembled.

I sighed, "So, he has to be a complete gentleman during my period. I'm sensitive on that time, so remember that. He has to have food on him 24/7 because I sure as hell would call him whenever I'm hungry, even if it's in the middle of the night. He has to understand sometimes if I need time alone for myself, he has to bear with me if I act stupid and he has to be honest with me. Just honest, even if it hurts me. He has to have a Tumblr, an immunity to my puns, and he has to be down to earth and selfless. The usual requirements. He has to make me laugh even when I'm boiling angry. And . . . "

"Wow, that's a lot," Jackson breathed out, "And what?"

"He has to be you."

A smile etched on my face when I saw his expression. Complete and utter disbelief. "M – me? Why . . . what?" he stuttered endlessly.

"It was obvious what you were trying to do, and I just want to know that I reciprocate."

He was shaking his head, maybe wondering if it was all a dream. "You . . . you are too blunt for your own good, sweets."

"What?" I kissed his cheek. "You like me. I like you. What a coincidence. Now, it's better to be done with it than to go around in circles."

"B – but, you just said you want me to date you. Didn't you . . . ?"

"That's just what I said, wasn't it?" the corner of my lips tugged up.

He groaned and raked his fingers through his hair. "So you want to be, like, together? Officially?"

"If you want. We could just try and test the waters, right? Kiss, hug, do what people do. But if it's not for us, we just pull out – ah," I cursed and bit my tongue.

"That's not what I meant," I said, not wanting to hurt his feelings, "I'm just saying that being official is a big step and we just do it experimentally first. But if people ask, we're boyfriend and girlfriend. No hall passes. Are you okay with that?"

He nodded slowly, "Experimentally."

"Good," I beamed, "So what now? You take me to restaurants and pay for my food? That's a really good idea, you know."

"Don't make me regret it, sweets," he pulled me impossibly closer. "And you know, I think we already had our first date."

"We had?"

"You know that night at Brennan's party? When we talked about things? For me, that's our first date, and all the times we spent after that were dates, too."

My shoulders shook with laughter and my eyes closed, "Vanilla, stop being so sappy! You just asked me out and you're sounding like John Green!"

"Sorry," he apologized meekly.

I bit my lip before putting kiss after kiss on both his cheeks. I wasn't ready for lip-locking action yet, because whatever I watched, I could never understand how to do that. Once before, I had practiced with a popsicle, but that didn't go too well.

"Hey Jackson?"

"Yes, sweets?"

"When you first saw me, what did you think about me?" I asked. It seemed so long ago, when he first caught Brennan and I talking at the kitchen.

"Ah, well – "

"Did you think my chocolate rainbow hair was ridiculous?"

"Ah, no," he laughed, "I just thought that this is a girl who had a lot of spunk, who was such a rebel. I was surprised how easily you dissed off Brennan, but I never thought you were so weird with a soft spot for SuperWhoLock – "

"SuperLock," I corrected.

"Yes, SuperLock. I got guilty when we were catching Swissybuns. I realized not everyone who I meet in the outside world is like the other . . . 'Acey spawns'. And yeah, I grew to like you after that."

"Sweet," I hummed, "You know what I thought of you when we met?"

"What?"

"Don't get cocky, but you were much attractive than Brennan. Hell, I get tired of his face. And you looked absolutely disgusting drinking OJ from the carton. But . . . you were kind of cute when you get flustered."

"And I thought I was blunt," he muttered.

A yawned and it seemed to last for seconds. Jackson pulled the sheets to cover both of us. He leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose. That tickled, geez. "I think we should sleep now," he whispered.

"Your abs are still weird, you know. At least now I can lick them."

"Yep, you really need sleep. Close your eyes, sweets."

I shut my eyes, willing for myself to fall asleep. I didn't want to wake him with my insomniac-like habits, because we were both tired after all. I snuggled close to him and allowed myself to rest.

What just happened tonight?

♫ ♫ ♫

The next morning, Jackson drove me home and kissed me goodbye – uh, on the cheek. Maira and Walter were nowhere near surprised I stayed over and I had even cooked breakfast, because it turned out they had stayed until two a.m. Brennan was the groggiest, half-asleep at breakfast.

As usual, Mom called, demanding for me so I had no choice but to come home right away. And just the right timing, Lawrence called and said that he and Jess were over at the shop. I had to check their progress, and work for a few hours today.

"You have to stop coming home wearing another person's clothes," Mom met me at the door as I entered, eyeing me up and down.

"I'm sorry, I'll make sure to bring an overnight bag to theirs." I spotted Lawrence and Jessica eating cakes on the former's regular table. Lawrence waved at me and I waved back.

"Why don't you just stock their drawers with your clothes, then?" Mom sassed back from the kitchen. I ignored her and walked towards the table. I leaned over them and smiled when I saw Jessica grinning absentmindedly. It's probably the cake, or Lawrence or both.

Lawrence pulled up a seat for me and I thanked him. "So," I laid my palms flat on the table, "How would you react if I told you I have a boyfriend now?"

Lawrence looked like he was about to do a spit-take. "You have a boyfriend!" He shouted it out for the whole shop to hear. It even caught the attention of Melanie, Heron and Mom. Awesome, now my coworkers were going to gossip about me.

"So it's this Jackson guy?" Jess took a bite out of my cake.

"Yes," I said, "Did you know that from the background check?" At my silent command, Lawrence started feeding me bits of his cake as a celebratory treat. The guy looked happier than I was.

"No," Jess laughed, "It was all Lawrence. He poured out your awesome life story to me. I have to say it's quite chaotic and I've heard lots of stories from crime cases."

"So it was that simple?" I turned to Lawrence as he asked the question. "He just asked you 'will you be my girlfriend?' and then that's it? You agreed?"

"More or less, yes," I shrugged.

The talk was cut short when Mom passed our table, motioning for me to get to work right away. Sighing, I told Lawrence I'd be pouring out some more details later on and I stood up. Jessica stood up as well, saying she had to go to the bathroom.

Jessica beckoned me over. I leaned in and she whispered, "Can you come with me?"

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowing. She hooked her arm with mine and guided me to the bathroom of the shop. "You girls and your bathroom groups!" Lawrence said behind us. I flipped him off.

The bathroom was empty when we got there. I sat beside the sink, leaning slightly into the mirror. "So, the blood's still flowing?"

"Yes, but I'm better know. Lawrence fed me ganache last night." Ooh, the chocolate icing.

"I have to talk to you about Lawrence," Jessica started pacing. She locked the bathroom door and looked at me intently.

"You don't want to be his matchmaker anymore?" I asked as a guess.

"No," she shook her head, "Something's just been bothering me."

"What is it?"

"How long have you known him? Exactly?" she asked me. I puckered my lips, thinking about it. I felt like I had known him forever.

"Three years, at most," I counted with my fingers.

"I just wondered," Jess fiddled with her fingers, "Why not you? Why not date you, if you're the only girl who knew him for so long? And if not date you, then why not be his matchmaker?"

I didn't expect these questions from her. But she had only met him after all, and she was curious how my relationship with him was. I could say that Lawrence was like my soulmate, but in a friendly kind of way. We were a BroTP. While Mitch was my titled best friend, he still held a special place in my life.

"First of all, he's totally confused at the moment, and that's why he got a matchmaker for him. Before he met you, he even tried kissing me but that didn't work out for us. I almost lost him as a friend. We aren't made for each other – I wish we were, because it would be easier but while he's the perfect guy for everyone, he's not the perfect guy for me. I happen to belong to a jerk. But anyway, dating part cleared."

I went on, "And I don't want to become his matchmaker but I don't to interfere that much with his life. He needs another point of view and I'm crap at these kind of things. I don't even know how I got a boyfriend now. You should try finding the best girl for him."

Jessica was staring out into nothing, thinking about something. "I see," she said softly, "Thank you." She gave me a sincere smile and led me out of the bathroom

Upon coming out of the place, something caught my eye. Or rather, someone. Mom was talking to a man, but he didn't seem to be a customer. She frowned as he talked, and they made hand gestures for elaboration. I couldn't make out what they were talking about.

And they were in the kitchen. You didn't take customers to the kitchen, did you? And I've never seen this man ever in my life. He looked about my father's age. After a session of staring, they went out of the kitchen. The man walked out of the shop with a grimace on his face.

I walked up to Mom, who looked startled to see me. "Who was that?" I pointed to the direction the man walked off to.

"Ah, no one. His name's Owen, but don't mind him," she waved it off, "And about this boyfriend thing, I have to talk to you about that."

"Okay," I decided it was the best time to ask her about Elise and Dad and Walter, too. "I've been wanting to talk to you, too." That brought a confused look on her face, but I took Mom's hand and dragged her to an empty table at the corner of the shop.

We both took a seat as Mom removed her apron. She put her hands in front of her, tangling them together. "So you're together with that Jackson boy?"

"Yes – uh, unofficially?"

"And you're not pregnant?"

"You wish."

She gave me a searching look, looking for any underlying truths. "And you are careful, right? You do realize you still have a job to do for your father?"

My jaw hinged at the memory of that blasted contract. But if I hadn't taken it, would I have ever met Jackson? Ever? "Yes, I'm careful," I whispered, "Jackson knows what we're doing. Dad wants me to use him, but I don't want to do that. I have to protect him."

"You sure you can do that?"

"So what if I don't?" I braved a look directly into her eyes. Remembering Walter's story, I realized I knew less and less about my own mother. She had secrets of her own, and I haven't thought about that.

"Think about it, Oliver. Your father knows your weaknesses and wants. What if he uses him against you?"

I swallowed a forming lump in my throat. She was right. I never considered that. But I couldn't just split with him like that and avoid him. He'd be hurt. But it would be selfish either way.

"What, you want me to break up with him or . . . ?" I trailed off.

"No, of course not. I'm happy you found a relationship and I know you're in good hands. But now, be extra careful, okay? You have to get your father information or else hell will break loose."

She wasn't wrong. Definitely wasn't wrong. Why had I let myself succumb to him, anyway?

"So . . . " Mom cleared her throat, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"The other night," I scooted my chair closer forward. This was going to be serious between us, "Walter talked to us about something. About Dad. I just want to ask if it's true. About everything. About Elise."

As the words slipped out of my mouth, Mom grew anxious and tense. I almost wanted to take them back. About what Walter said to describe her before, was it all true?

"Yes," she said, "It's all true. Walter and Grant used to fight over a girl. Then she died. Your father still blames himself up to this day."

"But were you really like . . . like that before?"

She nodded solemnly, "Yes, I was. I drank, I was wild and I slept around. Everybody just hated me. And hell, did I love to flirt with every boy. You won't believe me, Ollie, but Grant brought back the happiness in me. He fixed me and that was why I fell in love. He understood. He got me back my love for cooking."

I sucked in a breath. So this was what my mother used to be. And my father did all that? It explained why Mom seemed to be cool about things, how she understood me as a teenager.

Was it the reason, too, why she wouldn't lash out at Montana?

"You might not know it," she had a sad look on, "but there are people out there who are suffering even if they don't look like that. The meanest and rudest person to you could be hurting inside you just have to try being in their shoes. You never know what's going on in their lives."

I looked down on my hands, taking it all in.

"There's a lot in the past I've regretted, but it would never be marrying your father. You should understand him. He's lost, and I'm afraid he'll forever carry the burden in him. The mess he made of your life will pass."

This contract, this whole thing, pass?

My head snapped up, a thought occurring to me, "And that Owen guy . . . ?"

Mom frowned, "Oh, God no, not him. We're not . . . we're not. If I'll ever remarry, it would probably be to food."

Same thing for me.

She caught glimpse of the kitchen, where steam was going off in an excessive amount. Reg, probably. He was the one to cause accidents. Heron looked like he was trying to find out how the fire extinguisher worked because the nozzle was pointed at his face. Mel was fanning the fire and Doug was running around, screaming.

Mom sighed, "I have to work now. You think about what I said." She kissed my head before going over to the chaos scene. I stood up and went over to Lawrence and Jessica's table, where they were staring at the fire in amazement.

I plopped down on a seat and took the crumbs Lawrence left over for myself. That was a good cheesecake. And now, I could use their cheering up for me.

"Hey, did you know Lawrence is adopted?" Jessica told me.

"No!" I was taken aback. I turned to Lawrence, who was smiling sheepishly. I glowered at him, "In all the years I've known you, you've never mentioned you're adopted?"

"I didn't think it was important! So my birth parents died and my adoptive parents picked me off from an orphanage. So what?"

"And they sent him off here from Florida because they think he'll find a better life here. It's always soaking in there, right?"

"And it's so hot in here," he said.

I gave Lawrence a sharp look, "Okay, so what else have you told her that you didn't tell me?"

♫ ♫ ♫