Stella's pissed.

If she'd been in a room full of strangers, it'd been unlikely anyone would have even noticed. After all, through the years, she's gotten the well-practiced art of acting the gracious runner-up down to a tee. But she's not in a room full of strangers; there's only Jake. And Jake knows. She can tell he knows.

It's in the way she keeps crossing her arms over her chest only to let them fall back to her sides. It's in the faint purse of her lips, her cheeks sucked in. It's in the set of her shoulders, squared, as if she'd rather stalk off in the opposite direction. Actually, for one flickering moment Jake looks as if he wants to reach out for her—as if, maybe, he's worried she is about to leave. Though, that's probably the lingering sugar-high from the milkshakes having her imagining things.

Jake's mouth twists. "Well, in my defense," He says, pushing his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "You did seem kind of mad the last time we were in the same room."

 Stella draws in a sharp breath, the ache within—pounding against her ribs—only growing stronger as she's reminded of the foggy August morning, of the the patter of rain dotting the pavement they'd been stood upon.

She shakes her head, finding herself blatantly honest as she says, "I wasn't mad Jake. I was hurt."

Despite her words, he seems to relax ever so slightly as she slips out of her slingback sandals and walks over to the wide bookcase stood on the imagined threshold of the kitchen and living room. She leans her shoulder against it, flickering her eyes back out the still open sliding-door—letting them gaze over the dark shadows of the garden.

It's strange, having Jake stood here in front of her. Their phone calls were different, the long distance between them having made for a nice buffer. Everything had been fine, but now, there's no room left to suppress her feelings, nowhere to push them out of sight. She should've just squandered them while she had the chance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices how Jake shifts on his feet—even now, despite his fidgety manner—his lips seem to rest in a small, natural, smile. "You never mentioned you've been hanging out with Jess."

"I didn't?"

"No."

Stella shrugs. "She's nice."

"She is. What did you do today?"

"Oh, we had dinner. And I helped out, outside the pier."

"Right, it's Wednesday."

"Yeah."

"So–"

Stella flickers her gaze to Jake's. "Let's not."

His lips pull back in a faint frown. "Let's not?"

"This," She gestures between them with a small sigh. "The small talk."

"Okay."

Stella runs her left index finger along one of the bookshelves, frowning as it comes away with a faint layer of dust. She stares at it for a beat, pressing her teeth together. She needs space—space to get over this foolish crush, space to go back to pretending everything's just fine, normal even. That's the only way they can, one day, resume as before. The only way they can be Wilsons and Donahues.

"I don't think you should've come," She says, a lump catching in her throat as the quickening beat of her heart protests against the words lingering at the tip of her tongue. She shakes her head. "Maybe you should just leave."

"Stells–"

She whips her head in his direction, not shying away from his gaze this time. She's not sure whether she's angry with him for being here, for doing these things to her heart or if she's angry with herself—for letting him in the first place. "Why are you here Jake?"

"I told you; I thought it's time we talk."

"No," Stella's chest tightens. "Why? What is it that you want?"

Jake rests his elbows on the kitchen island, his fingers steepled. "For things to be right again. Between us."

"You couldn't have told me that in a text?" Stella asks and rubs at her goose bumped arms as a breeze trickles through the house, fluttering the sheer floor-length beige curtains. Outside, in the dark night, the wind rustles the leafy crowns of the trees—down by the water, the reeds sway from side to side in unison.

"I needed to see you."

Her mothers have often told her she's too stubborn for her own good, but that doesn't stop Stella from raising her chin in slight challenge now. "Why?"

Jake takes a few steps back to slide the door shut as another gust of wind slips inside. "Because."

"Because?"

"For heaven's sake Stella," Jake groans. "Just because!"

"That's not good enough," Stella walks over to the fridge, squinting at the light pouring out as she yanks the door open. Grabbing the pitched of iced lemon tea, she turns to Jake. "Want some?"

He rolls his lips together, lifting his shoulder in half a shrug. "Sure, yeah,"

Stella pours them a glass each, sliding his across the kitchen island before taking a sip of her own.

Tapping his fingers against his glass, Jake meets her eyes again. "I wanted to apologize," He says. "For what happened, between us."

"Which part?" Stella asks before thinking better of it. She holds her free hand up. "No, don't. It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters."

"You've got nothing to apologize for," Stella sets her iced tea down, lets her gaze rest on her red-painted nail as she traces the rim of the glass. Her heartstrings are pulled taut as her heart grows heavier. "I mean, you were right. I get it. I'm complicated,"

She lets her lips pull into a hint of a self-deprecating smile. "I don't blame you for not wanting to put up with the joys of overweight baggage."

"I never said–," Jake pauses, his features smoothing out in realization. With a sigh-sounding exhale bordering on exasperation, he rubs at his jaw. "Fuck. Stella I never meant that you... I'd never– I was thinking about our families. What they'd think, about us. What'd happen if we gave this a shot and it didn't work out. I had such a great time with you that day and then mom pulled those photo albums out and I freaked. I just kept thinking we'd ruin it. All of it. And then I felt impulsive, and foolish and selfish for not thinking about..."

Jake gestures vaguely in the air.

Stella's teeth lightly grazes her lip as she bites down on it, a faint burn at the base of her throat. "You should've told me that."

Jake blows out a breath. "You didn't even give me a chance to."

"Maybe you didn't try hard enough."

"You were the one who ran away."

Stella slams her hands down hard on the counter, fresh pain blossoming in her stomach—a tangled up ache. "Because I was hurt Jake! Not because I wanted to. Not because I didn't want to listen. I would've. If you– if you'd just stopped me from getting in that car, I would have listened."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"You just were," Stella bites back a sigh, unsure whether her heart or her stubbornness lie behind the words. The glass of iced tea leaves a damp circle upon the wooden countertop as she lifts it to her lips. "And I would've understood. It would've still hurt but at least I would've understood. You just– you left me in the dark."

Jake clenches and then unclenches his jaw, rubbing his knuckles over his brow. "I was wrong though."

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have let you go."

Stella sets her glass down, creating another damp circle on the countertop. "Jake."

"I just... I can't stop thinking about you. And then Ave told me I was an idiot and–"

Stella stumbles backwards, hissing as she bumps her hip into the kitchen counter. That's going to leave a bruise.

Her brows etch together, lips slightly parted. "That's why you're here?" She demands, speaking through the thick threat of tears as she turns her gaze away. "Avery thinks you made a mistake and you..."

Somehow Jake's already by her side as she trails off, sweeping a hand through the air in a useless gesture that could mean anything. "No, Stells, no," He says. "I see how it may have sounded like that but that wasn't what I was... Look at me. Stells."

Stella shakes her head. "No."

"Stells. Please."

"If I look at you, I won't be able to stay mad at you. And I am mad at you, Jake."

A beat of stretches of silence between them—pulled taut, palpable in the dimly lit room.

For one split second, Stella's convinced this is the part where Jake steps away. Where he admits defeat and leaves her and her wounded heart be, but instead—gingerly, as one would approach a scared horse—he takes her hand. Slipping his fingers through hers, touch gentle and featherlight, he lets them fold over her knuckles.

Staring hard at the cupboard door in her line of view, Stella's entire heart aches—expanding in her chest—as she lets her fingers mimic the gesture. She swallows, her breaths coming out a little ragged as she asks, "What do you want Jake?"

Another beat passes between them before he says, as simply as ever, "You."

Stella shakes her head again, that wet burn at the base of her throat having returned. "No you don't," She half-whispers, heart beating hard against her sternum. "You told me you didn't."

"I was wrong."

Stella feels dizzy all of a sudden, a headache having crept over her; it pounds against her skull, and as she speaks her voice comes out small. "I'm not sure I trust you,"

Her eyes flutter shut as Jake's hold around her hand tightens, if only for a mere second.

"I'm not saying that to hurt you I just– I don't know anymore Jake."

"What you said before," Jake's breath tickles her cheek. "Do you really want me to leave?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me to leave and I'll leave."

Stella presses her lips together, slipping her fingers out of Jake's hold as she pushes past him. She's always thought of the lake house as spacious, too big to simply serve as a vacation home, but right now it seems the walls are closing in on her.

Pulling her hands through her hair, Stella exhales roughly. "I'm not about to send you back out on the road, I just– I need a moment."

"Of course." Jake says as she's already halfway up the stairs, his voice so gentle she could cry.

━ ♡♡♡ ━

A couple of hours later, Stella's stood by the foot of her bed folding laundry, the door ajar.

Struggling with a wide gray bedsheet, she exchanges a look with her own reflection in the mirror stood in the corner of the room. Bloodshot and swollen eyes stare back at her, blinking back tears. Errant strands of damp post-swim hair fall haphazardly over one another, having escaped the knot at the back of her head. Her lower lip is trembling slightly. The tangled up bedsheet seems seconds away from swallowing her whole. She looks terrible.

There's a gentle tap on the door just as she lets out a deep sigh. Pausing, she turns her head over her shoulder and clears her throat. "Yeah?"

The door's nudged open another few inches. Jake rests his shoulder against the doorframe, watching—half-interested—as she curls her fingers around the corners of the sheet to start over with the impossible task of folding it smoothly.

Then, as she turns back to gaze out the window, he catches her eye through its reflection. "I don't want to fight with you. I don't like it."

Stella's heart drops deeper in her chest, it's beat growing slower—heavier—as she turns around. "I don't want to fight with you either."

Faint amusement flickers over Jake's features as he regards the sheet. "You need any help?"

Stella presses her lips together, then lifts her shoulder in half-a-shrug. "Yeah, thanks."

"Easier if you're two. Here," Jake walks into the room, his fingers brushing against hers as he takes the sheet out of her hands. "You grab those corners."

"Start with the right," Stella says as he backs away, stretching the fabric between them. "No wait, left. My right."

"I should've explained what I meant," Jake says as he follows her lead. "That night. I don't know... in my head it made sense, I think. I should've realized it wasn't as clear to you."

"I could've asked," Stella relents as they both take a few steps closer to each other, fingers brushing over Jake's again as he lets go of the now folded sheet. "I just got too caught up in my own head to do it."

Jake grabs another sheet where it lies in a heap at the end of her bed. "This too?"

"Yeah."

He sighs as they return to the odd choreography of folding a sheet. "We usually don't have this hard of a time saying what we mean. Especially to each other."

"I know," Stella's lips tug up once as she slants her head to the side—a violent flutter against her ribcage. "I think maybe it's the feelings: getting in the way."

Jake regards her for a beat as she takes the sheet out of his hands, placing it atop the other. "Yeah."

"Look," Stella sinks into a seat at the edge of the bed, resting her hands in her lap. "We've been a part of each other's lives for far too long to just throw it away, so we won't. We just... need to figure something out."

"I never meant to hurt you."

She knows the words are true—she can see the sincerity in Jake's eyes, can hear it in his voice. Casting her gaze to the beige carpet floor, she smooths a palm over the fabric of her pajama pants. "I know."

"About what I said downstairs," He says then. "About us. About what I want—I meant that."

Stella shakes her head. "Jake–"

"If it's too late," Jake blows out a breath. "Then it's too late, and I'll be out of your way by morning but just... think about it. Okay?"

"You were right though," Stella intertwines her hands, her fingers coiled tightly as she tilts her head back to meet Jake's gaze. "This is complicated. And I'm not speaking about what I thought you meant, or what you actually meant but Jake, summer's coming to an end; I'm moving away soon. Thousand and thousand of miles away."

She swallows as her throat tightens at the thought. Before, earlier this year it'd felt freeing—to start over somewhere completely new—now, as months have turned into weeks who will soon be turning into days, it's nothing but daunting: the excitement's overshadowed by everything that could go wrong.

Jake takes her hand, and Stella opens her mouth only to close it again—her objection fading on her tongue as her palm melts into his, letting herself be pulled to her feet. Absentmindedly, his thumb draws a circle over her skin. "So?"

Stella's heart thunders in her chest as she presses her lips together—gaze fixed on the dip between Jake's collarbones, lingering on the round neck of his pink sweater. "So what's the point?"

Jake flickers his eyes to the ceiling, cheeks sucked in, before letting his gaze settle on her once more.

"The point is," Gently catching her jaw, he tilts her eyes up to him. "Here's the thing Stells: I love you. I can't remember never loving you. But I'd like the chance to fall in love with you as well. If you'll still have me."

Breath caught in her throat, faint notch between her brows, Stella stares up at him.

She thinks back to the past weeks—to the laughs he's always been able to draw out of her, to their phone calls becoming the best part of her day, to the night he stayed up with her when she couldn't sleep. When she left Acebridge, she did so thinking he'd broken the trust she tore walls down to reach—just for him, and maybe for herself too—but, now, another thought forms in her mind. Maybe Jake didn't break that trust, maybe it simply got a little bit chipped.

And, oh, did it make her sad. But she's glued bigger pieces of herself back together before.

Raising her hand as if to cup Jake's cheek, she slowly begins to let it drop again but he captures it in his to hold it there—his brows drawing closer together as he watches her.

She brushes her thumb over his jaw, over the faded scar on his chin, the faint trace of stubble underneath her skin. Then, heart beating hard, she asks, "Can I... can I think about it?"

Jake swallows, a hint of defeat dancing over his features as his lips tug into a reassuring smile. "Of course," He tucks an errant strand of her hair behind her ear before letting his touch fall away. "I should let you go to bed."

Stella wraps her arms around herself in a hug, nodding. She presses her teeth together as she watches him turn away, his broad shoulders tense as he moves for the door. Her palms grow clammy, her pulse a steady thrum at the base of her throat.

That same dreadful knot she felt the night sat out on the hammock nestles its way into her gut as five words flash through her mind; He's slipping away from you.

She could live without Jake. She's spent the past six years without having Jake around—only ever hearing of his life every so often. They could continue on like that for the rest of their lives: wrap each other into hugs as their families gather for anniversary celebrations, dinners and vacations. This summer could be another memory, slowly slipping away into a moment of time. She could live without Jake; she's done it before, she could do it again.

Only, she doesn't want to.

She's not quite ready to let him go. She doubts she ever will be.

Stumbling forward, she reaches out—her hand wrapping around his arm. "Jake."

A hint of relief flickers over his features as he turns around, his gaze searches hers as her fingers lightly grip the fabric of his sweater, fingertips digging into his arms.

And then, as she nods with a small smile, he lets out a chortled breath.

His fingers come up to her jaw, lightly grazing her hair. "Are you sure?"

Stella's cheeks tighten as her smile widens—the flutter in her chest seeming at peace, at last. "Of course I'm sure."

Jake's lips crack into a grin, rounding his cheekbones, as he smooths his thumb over her skin. "Stella Donahue,"

"Mhm?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

With one small slant of her head, Stella's nose brushes against Jake's, her breath on his lips. "Okay."

Jake's smile softens as he presses his lips to hers, tentatively at first—as if he's afraid she's going to pull away. Impatient, she twirls her arms around his neck to bring him closer, his short laugh muffled against her mouth.

Pulling back just an inch, he speaks over her lips. "Any update on my eventual impending exile?"

Stella rolls her eyes with a soft smile, looping her arms around Jake's torso in a hug.

"You should stay," She rests her cheek against his steady heartbeat. "I'd like you to stay."

. . . 

hi friends! 

I don't really have much to say, but I just wanted to pop by and say hi and happy sunday! 

how are you? I hope you've had a good week <3

as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

much much love,

linn