Stella finds Jake stood by the stove, wearing a black t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants, spatula in hand.

Stepping into the kitchen—her own pajama pant-legs grazing the floorboards—she's hit by a whiff of the sweet greasy aroma having traveled all the way to the upstairs. The very reason she knew where to steer her steps upon emerging from the bathroom in the first place.

She lets her fingers run along the marbled top of the kitchen island, an unintentional sigh-sounding breath escaping her lips as she leans her hip against the counter.

It's only the two of them in the house; Angelina and Geoffrey are out for dinner with their colleagues turned friends, just as Jake and Stella had been out with their friends earlier tonight, before their plans were ultimately cut short.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jake puts the spatula aside and gets one of the green cupboards open. He fills a glass of water before sliding it across the island to Stella.

"How are you feeling?"

Stella shrugs, fingers closing around the glass of water—the surface cold beneath her fingertips. Trying for a smile, though it barely reaches her eyes, she lifts the glass to her lips. "Better."

The minty taste of her toothpaste comes out in a cloud of breath as she grimaces against the rim of her drink. Faint humor dances over her apologetic lips.

"Sorry I got puke on you."

Relief flickers across Jake's features at the sight of her small smile and—smiling as well—he waves his hand dismissively as he turns back to the stove. "Do you want to call someone? Faye? Your moms?"

"I'm supposed to talk to Faye later tonight," Stella says, twirling her newly showered damp hair into a bun at the back of her head—her shampoo's flowery sweet hyacinth scent tickling her nose. "We'll speak about it then."

Jake nods, and as he faces her again, he presents her with a plate—two grilled cheese sandwiches stacked upon it.

"I took the liberty of making you something to eat," He sets the plate down, regarding Stella as she leans back against the opposite counter. "They may not be masterpieces like yours, but at least it's something."

Stella's throat tightens as the corners of her mouth pull up once. "They're perfect," Her gaze flickers from the small splotch of melted cheese having spilled onto the plate to Jake—who's been nothing but helpful the past hours. "Thank you."

"Of course," Jake's gaze lingers on her for a beat, his concern visible even through his faint smile. Crossing the room, he yanks the door to the refrigerator open and emerges with a pitcher of iced tea. "Want some?"

Stella's smile softens as she rolls her lips together and nods. "That'd be nice, yeah."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Sat crosslegged on the living room couch, Stella bites down on her lip as she stares at the last piece of grilled cheese pinched between her fingers. "You looked it up."

Jake glances up from the brownish liquid swimming around his glass of iced tea at Stella's sudden interruption of their comfortably silence, seeming genuinely confused—a small crease appearing between his brows—as he regards her from his seat in the opposite end of the couch. "What?"

"You knew," Stella's chest heaves with her deep inhale, her exhale coming out shorter as she continues to speak. "That it was him. Marcus,"

Only letting the name spill off her tongue has bile creeping back up her throat and she's quick to shove the last piece of toast into her mouth, letting the now lukewarm cheese melt on her tongue along the crumbs of bread, setting the plate back on the coffee table as she swallows hard.

"At the restaurant," She says, sucking her cheeks in as her gaze flickers to Jake—recalling his change of demeanor as soon as he'd realized what had caught her attention while out for dinner earlier tonight. "You knew. Right?"

"I did."

"When?"

A beat of silence passes between them and Jake shifts in his seat, absentmindedly reaching back to rub the nape of his neck.

"Before," He says eventually, fingertips lightly tapping the side of his drinking glass. "Back when it all happened."

Nodding, Stella lets her palms come to rest around her feet. "Makes sense."

"I wanted to reach out to you then," Jake leans forward, setting his glass down on the table. "But mom said to give you some time and then when I spoke to Faye she seemed to think the same: said...,"

Stella wrenches her hands together—a heavier beat to her heart as memories of those days flicker through her mind. Days of pleading to supervisors and school boards. Of pulling herself out of swimming, and in doing so: losing the one thing that has always kept her afloat. Sane.

Of courtrooms. Of a gray ceramic cup of coffee growing lukewarm in her palms, staring at a shell of the girl she once was in the reflection of Faye's bedroom mirror while her older sister gently worked a hairbrush through her hair.

Pressing her lips together, Stella clears her throat—absentmindedly reaching out for her glass of iced tea only to set it back down on the table as she realizes she's already emptied it. "That I wasn't entirely there?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Stella casts her eyes to the velvet cushion she's sat upon, letting her finger draw a circle in the dark fabric. "We can talk about it, you know," She says, her words genuine. "It's okay."

A sigh-sounding breath leaves Jake. "I wish I'd reached out to you, made sure you knew you had me in your corner. I'm sorry Stells, I should've."

"Don't dwell on that," Stella twists in her seat, meeting Jake's gaze. Noticing the purse of his lips, she aims a light kick at his leg. "I mean it, Jake. It won't make any of us feel better."

He considers her, lips pursing further—in reluctance this time, eyes narrowing—before he nods, letting them slip into a small smile instead. "How are you feeling?"

Stella rolls her eyes, lips quirking up. It's far from the first time Jake's asked her that question this past hour, but she obliges, sinking back against the sea of colorful decorative pillows lining the couch. "I'm good," She brings her fingers to her head, tapping her skull. "Just a lot of thoughts swimming around in here."

Sprawling her fingers before her, she regards her baby blue painted nails—realizing one of them has begun to chip. Next to her, Jake remains silent: as if eating for her to go on.

Through an audible exhale, she finds herself saying, "You know when you were younger—like much younger, back when we were kids—and then one day, suddenly, a new kid showed up to class? And everyone wanted to be that kid's friend? You just instantly loved everything about them. They were new and exciting. Shiny,"

She bites down on her lip. She's spoken of these things so many times she's lost count of them—enough to have them numb her a bit, as if what she's speaking of is something separate from herself. Always the same story yet different, the words never quite the same. Fumbled, strung together into incoherent sentences the first time she spoke them to Faye. Carefully chosen for a courtroom. Spilling freely, recklessly, from her lips in Ms Flores office.

Yet, speaking them to Jake now seems different. A whisper into the wind—with the currents moving in her favor, letting her words be heard. As if she's slowly—deliberately—picking up an axe to aim at those walls she's built around herself, around her heart, swinging it once to get a sense of its weight in her hands. Swinging it at the wall, a surge of electrified joy and anticipation mixing with the hint of vulnerability hiding behind the small tear. And then she swings it again. And again.

"Well. That's kind of what having Marcus on as our assistant coach felt like. Only the other way around, I guess," She says. "We all wanted to be that, for him. The shiny new toy. The one who got all the attention. All the praise,"

Stella wipes her palms off on her pajama pants, clenching her teeth. "When he first showed up we all saw this Adonis of a man. An incredible swimmer; we could only dream of being what he was. And he had this way about him—has, I guess—of making you feel like you're on the very top of the world. Chosen. But once you're up there, the air gets thinner, the demands become more difficult to reach. And if you dare to shift in your stance, you realize there's a long, hard fall back down to the ground. And then, being shiny isn't so great anymore,"

"It's funny, you know," She continues. "Or well, I guess it's not... When it's the athletes being accused, they're protected. Fiercely so. The swords are drawn, the cavalry is called upon, the barricade's intact in a way it has never been before. But when the athletes are the ones doing the accusing, especially if they're female, and who they're accusing is not only the school's former superstar—a prodigy, a devoted team player, a friend, a family man, respected by students and faculty alike—but also part of the coaching team responsible for more than a handful of championship titles? Not so much."

"I'm sorry Stells."

"You have nothing to apologize for Jake."

"I still am though."

"Yeah," Stella stumbles over an exhale. "I am too,"

Jake's hand finds hers, having the corners of Stella's lips pull up faintly. She slips her fingers through his, letting them fold over his knuckles as her eyes swivel to the ceiling.

"You know, for a very brief moment I actually thought they'd choose me. Believe me. Run him out of town."

Jake's hold tightens—so hard Stella worries her bones might crack, having her snap her head in his direction again. The lump in her throat only grows bigger as she notices the hard set of his features, notices the way his jaw clenches as he blinks.

Catching her gaze, Jake rolls his eyes at himself—amusement dancing over his grimace as he clears his throat. "Sorry."

"Hey. No," Stella speaks softly, heartbeat heavy as it drops deeper in her chest. Letting her legs unfold, she twists in her seat and takes his other hand into hers as well, climbing closer as she squeezes them gently. "What's this?"

His words come out choked as his forehead falls to her shoulder, a few warm teardrops prickling her skin. "I'm sorry. Just the thought of you having to–"

Stella's chest tightens, pulling at her heartstrings. She lets go of Jake's hands and loops her arms around him instead, thumb absentmindedly rubbing a circle between his shoulder blades. "I'm okay now."

Jake's arms slip around her waist in return, hold tightening. "Sorry," He lifts his head to meet here gaze. "This is the last thing you need right now. If anything, I should be the one to–"

Brows drawing together, Stella cuts his words off with a shake of her head.

How did she end up in the midst of all these people—her moms, her sister, Jake—always so adamant on being the strong ones? The ones putting everyone else's needs before their own, never letting anyone else pull the heavy load. She wishes they would let her be the one to take care of them for once.

Lips pulling into a soft smile, she lifts one of her hands and smooths her thumb over Jake's tears, fingers lingering lightly against his warm cheek.

"You're allowed to be angry, Jake. Sad. Or whatever else you're feeling. Even if it didn't happen to you, it happened to someone you–"

Stella rolls her lips together, bites down on her tongue as she ponders her next phrasing.

"Someone who's important to you. That's bound to dig up some emotions."

"You are," Jake searches her gaze, cheeks slightly sucked in as he regards her, as if wanting to tap her mind. He reaches up, that flutter awakening in Stella's chest. Her lips part with a small puff of air as he pinches an errant strand of hair having loosened from her updo, and tucks it behind her ear. 

 "Important to me. I hope you know that Stella."

Heartbeat quickening, Stella's gaze flickers from Jake's eyes to her fingers still held to his cheek and back again.

She thinks of their past weeks spent together: from the day he found her distraught on the kitchen floor to the conversation at the splashing cove, to every KitKat bar or plate of apple slices they've shared. All the way to him extending her his hand—asking her to dance, when he noticed she couldn't take her eyes off those already on the makeshift dance floor.

"I do."

"Good," Jake says, brows slightly drawn together as his gaze matches hers—watching her every move as her eyes flicker over his features. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Stella lets her hand fall from Jake's cheek to his shoulder. "Like what?"

Silence stretches between them, the notch between Jake's eyebrows growing deeper as he holds her gaze. Stella's mouth falls slightly open, her chest pulling tighter around the flutter beating against her ribcage. And as everything else seems to fade, sat staring into his dark eyes, she's brought back to their time at the restaurant—the minutes before everything came crashing down around them.

She thinks of his face brightening up in delight as he laughed. Of his knee leant against hers under the table. Of the not-quite-dimples-dimples flashed her way as he stole a cocktail tomato off her plate. Of her own cheeks warming, chin leant in her palm.

Then—the words falling from her tongue before they've barely registered in her mind—she blurts. "I wanted you to kiss me."

Underneath her touch, Jake tenses. If only for a moment. "What?"

Stella wonders if she should brush him—this—off. But it's too late. She spoke her mind, now she has no other choice than to ride the wave all the way to the shore.

"I wanted you to kiss me," She says again, clearing her throat as she notices how breathless the words sound spoken into the air between them. "At Ethan's and Avery's party. I wanted you to kiss me and I–I think, maybe I still do, want you to kiss me."

"Stells," Jake inches back ever so slightly, palms coming to rest against the couch cushion on either side of them. "We've had a long day."

"This has nothing to do with what happened tonight."

"Stella."

"Jacob,"

Faint amusement dances over Jake's lips, having Stella's cheeks round with a small smile. Warmth flushes her skin as his smile widens as well.

"So, uhm, well–," Stella lets a short laugh fall from her tongue. "That's that."

Jake swallows, gaze flickering to Stella's lips. "That's that."

Hesitantly, heart beating hard, Stella lifts her fingers—letting her pinky trace the small faded scar on Jake's chin. Her voice comes out weak, hoarse. "Jake?"

Leaning into her touch, Jake's warm breath tickles her lips, those dark eyes peering into her own as he breathes out a "Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Jake's palms cups her cheek, his smile cracking into a grin.

And then he kisses her.

A chortled breath escapes Stella. "Is that a yes?"

Jake's fingers dance delicately over her jaw, bringing her closer. "It's a yes."

The corners of Stella's lips tug back into a smile, and then—with one, small slant of her head—her nose nudges Jake's as she lets her lips brush over his.

The kiss is gentle at first. Tentative.

Stella's fingers slip from Jake's cheeks to his chest, fisting her hands in the fabric of his hoodie as one of his arms snakes around her waist, pulling her closer.

Hearts racing, they lose themselves in one another—bodies curved together, her heartbeat pressed against his as his hands slide down her back, their lips in widening smiles.

Her hands tremble as she lets them come back to his face, exploring his skin underneath her fingertips: every roughness, bump and defined edge. She lets them trail a trace over his cheeks while she loses herself in him. Loses herself in his taste. In his touch. In the feel of his soft, warm lips against her own. In the moment.

As they part, they simply stare at one another: gazes wide and cheeks flushed as they share a faint, breathy laugh.

Cheeks twitching, Stella brings her fingertips to her lips. "I can't believe we just did that."

Jake gently smooths his thumb over her cheek, pausing over her café-au-lait birthmark and Stella presses her lips together to quell her ever-growing smile.

Leaning forward, he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of her mouth. "We should probably–"

"Head upstairs,"

Jake's lips tug into a grin, corners twitching as if he's trying to hold back a laugh.

Groaning, Stella squeezes her eyes shut and lets her palms settle on his shoulders. "That came out wrong,"

As she bats her eyes back open, there's an amused glint to Jake's gaze—cheeks high and round as his grin begins to look like a smirk.

"Stop that."

Feigned innocence plays over Jake's lips as his smirk only seems to widen. "Stop what?"

Stella flickers her gaze over his face, lingering a moment too long on those full lips. "That."

Jake's mouth falls into a softer line as he brushes a few errant strands away from her face, pressing another kiss to her lips—having her eyes flicker shut as her arms loop around his neck.

"It's late," She says, a hint of defeat to her tone. "Angelina and Geoffrey–"

Jake's forehead falls against her own. "I know."

They stay like that for another moment before Stella forces herself to inch back, shaking her head with a small smile. "Okay; now go."

"You have to let go of me for that."

"What? Oh," Another ridiculous smile threatens to overtake Stella's lips as she lets her arms fall to her sides. "Right. Well... goodnight."

"Goodnight,"

Jake gets to his feet, lingering for a moment as he considers her—as if he's trying to work up the will to step away.

Then, faint surprise flickers through Stella as he rests his palm on her shoulder, leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. "Sleep well."

Face rounding with a soft smile, she places her hand over his. "You too."

Listening to Jake's footsteps disappear up the staircase, Stella sinks back in her seat—cheeks flushing with warmth as a silent chortle escapes her lips. Hiding her face in her palms, she bites down on her wide smile before letting her fingers fall to her mouth—pressing the cold fingertips to her warm lips with another short laugh. 

. . .

hi friends! thought maybe it's time for an author's note!

I hope you're all doing well <3 I am, despite having fought my way out of writer's block these past weeks (there were some incidents of me banging my head against a tabletop but it's better now, I hope!)  I have to admit, these past two chapters were both nerve-racking and exciting to write at once, but I do think they turned out the way I needed them to <3

well. until next time, much love

yours, linn