CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"A real gentleman you got there," was the first thing Maggie said when Reagan entered the souvenir shop, "Fought the trash can out of my hands so he could throw it out himself."

She took a pause from looking around the shop—not much changed except for the dust that once again collected on the shelves, and looked at Maggie.

Reagan could feel the soft smile that involuntarily grew on her lips, "That's nice of him."

"He's a nice kid," Maggie agreed, walking around her desk to sit down, "Very kind. Very intelligent. Handsome too, to top it off."

Reagan only coughed awkwardly, not really comfortable with voicing out some form of agreement even though she was fully aware that all those things were true.

She took her spot in front of the desk, opposite Maggie, and resolutely stared at pliers scattered across the table top. She noticed a few charms placed in unorganized piles to the far left, along with yards and yards of thin chains, and she realized that Maggie's latest project—the one she mentioned once or twice the week before, were probably charm bracelets.

Just as she picked up a small charm—it was a guitar painted with only two colors and had rusting edges—the wind chimes hung on the front door rang inside the room, bouncing off every handmade snow globe and bottled trinket in the shop. Jack was beside Reagan after a second, pulling a monoblock chair behind him.

Before he sat down, of course, he had to ask for Maggie's hand so he could press a gentle kiss to her knuckles as his form of greeting.

Aunt Maggie's face was graced with a wide, beaming smile with all her teeth in display, and crow's feet that beautifully framed her twinkling eyes, because Jack Avery was charming as hell.

"Ever the charmer," Maggie gushed, "We were just talking about what a gentleman you are."

"Really now?" He asked, unabashedly turning his gaze to look at Reagan.

Reagan flushed. He could've at least been subtle.

"About how handsome you are too," Maggie quipped and Reagan definitely turned red. She sent Maggie a subtle but hopefully intense glare because she was definitely enjoying embarrassing her.

"That was all Aunt Mags, I assure you," She let out an awkward laugh, returning Jack's glance, "I didn't even say that I agreed."

"But do you, though?" Jack asked, a daring glint in his eye, and Reagan had to stop herself from gaping.

Jack was being awful.

He knew he liked her and he wasn't comfortable with it but here he was, almost taunting her to admit that she found him attractive (her breath still died in her throat when he would reach for his hair to lazily mess it up or when he would run his thumb across his bottom lip—attractive was an understatement) and she could feel a familiar, unsettling sting of pain in her chest.

Rejecting her was one thing. Making fun of her for it was just terrible.

Maggie must've misunderstood Reagan's internal havoc as teasing because she let out a soft squeal under pursed lips, clapped her hands and gushed, "Oh, you two make quite the couple."

Reagan almost choked.

"Thank you," Jack replied casually, oblivious to what was going on in Reagan's thoughts, and she reached an entirely new level confusion.

Her heart rate picked up at his words and so did the turmoil that ran through her head.

"You here to start with the crafting, Reagan?" Maggie asked before she could dwell on Jack's words and his glances for too long.

"Sure," She shrugged, audibly exhaling, "I wont be able to come over after lunch, though."

"That's a shame," Maggie frowned and Reagan wanted to take back the words as soon as she said it. Maggie was a small, thin woman with frail bones and veins on her hands that looked like road maps, and it broke Reagan's heart to disappoint her. Maggie added, "I would've loved the company."

"We'll come another day, Mrs. Gibson," Jack said in a heartbeat, obviously sharing the same affection she had for the lady. Reagan watched Jack smile softly, adding with complete confidence, "I promise."

Reagan's heart warmed.

She knew she should've been more worried or reserved about the way everything Jack did could change her mood in seconds but she couldn't find it in her to care.

"You better," Maggie demanded with a smile wide enough to form lines on her cheeks, "Fourth of July is comin' and I need help with the cards."

Reagan's hand flew to her forehead, eyes wide, when the words cards came out of her mouth, "Aunt Mags, I forgot the flowers!"

"The flowers?" Jack piped up and Reagan turned to answer him but the moment she saw Jack, his head once again resting casually on his hand, his entire demeanor calm and collected, she knew it was a mistake. She looked away.

"Yeah," She nearly stammered, "The ones I got from the waterfall."

Mentioning the waterfall wasn't supposed to sound like it was such a harrowing event but even she could tell that Jack almost flinched at the mention of it. As much as she hated it, the weight of the fact that they nearly kissed was still suffocating for both of them, even though it was because of entirely different reasons.

"Oh," Jack said and Reagan didn't know what else to respond.

"We use the pressed flowers for greeting cards," Maggie thankfully explained, oblivious to how tense the two teenagers were, "Reagan comes here once a week, every Friday afternoon, to deliver them."

"Part of my schedule," She said with a lopsided grin in an attempt to hold onto whatever line of friendliness they were treading on.

"Schedule?" Jack asked, eyebrows knitting together, and Reagan wasn't supposed to find it adorable but goddamit.

"Yup," She shrugged a single shoulder, "On Wednesday I draw—"

"On the edge of the cliff," Jack added with a soft but scolding laugh.

"Thursdays I look for flowers," She said, rolling her eyes with a small smile, "And Friday I bring 'em here pressed in stacks and stacks of books."

"And on Saturday?" Jack pressed, fully looking at her now, one side of his lip turned up to a half smile that made Reagan want to awe.

"Is something you'll find out tomorrow," She responded easily.

Jack's half-smile turned into a full blown grin at that and the way Reagan's heartbeat picked up was borderline dangerous.

"I learn new things about you every day, Wallace," He said, looking at her with kind, twinkling eyes.

He wasn't even doing anything special. He was sat there, hair as messy as its always been, and his eyes tired from lack of sleep. But just looking at him, Reagan knew that trying to move on was a lost cause. Especially if Jack was looking at her like he was holding onto every word that came out of her—as if she fascinated him. As if she mattered. As if he didn't spend the night before letting her down easy.

"I'm a story sixteen years in the making," She shrugged, looking back at him with what she hoped was the same expression instead of unreasonable bitterness, "It's gonna take time to hear the rest of it."

Jack's expression suddenly turned somber, the upward curve of his lips turning into a dull frown.

He sighed, "Really wish I could stay long enough to hear it."

SO THIS HAS 11K READS AND 2K COMMENTS NO HAHAHAH IM NOT CRYING WHAT

i love you guys

also im sorry for spamming ur notifs w replies for comments you left almost a month ago

i'm trying so hard to update daily i cant wait for them to get their shit straight iM SO TIRED OF ANGSTY!REAGAN TBH and my writing style is so messy like one day i try so hard to be poetic and the next i try so hard to sound like im writing a stucky fic or something IDK YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN but i'll edit all of this & hopefully make it cohesive one day

i said cohesive im cringing

i hope i'll be able to post tomorrow ❤