Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Jess.
Dark eyes. Smooth brown skin. Thick, soft, wavy black hair.
His.
When she returned from America for the summer, her parents threw a small party. He had come, eaten aloo gobi, made mindless small talk with the people there, and avoided pissing off Jess's mum and staring longingly at Jess too much.
All in all, he considered the party to be a success.
They spend a lot of time together, making up for the time they've missed when they weren't allowed to be together or when they were too busy convincing her parents that they should be together to actually really be together.
They don't talk much. They talk about soccer, or the latest news about Beckham, her idol. (And his too, if it had to be admitted.) She tells him about America and all the hearts Jules has broken, and he strokes her hair and wonders just how he managed to survive so long with her gone.
Sometimes, they even have dinner with their family. Jess's mum still gives him the evil eye, (Joe has a feeling he'll have to get used to that) but Jess's dad is all right. More than all right, actually. In Mr. Bhamra he can see the kind of dad he wishes his own father was like. While Joe's relationship with his father has improved, he still has a better relationship with Jess's dad, which under the circumstances, is downright bizarre.
And of course, Jess more than makes up for the Death Glares from her mum.
Things aren't perfect, of course. They still get the occasional meaningful glances and whispers from the Indian people who see him and Jess holding hands. But Jess's sister, (who is named, of all things, Pinky) will always loudly asks them just what they think they're staring at.
So they go out to clubs and restaurants, sometimes with Jules and Tony and Pinky and her husband Teets, (Lord Almighty, Teets?) sometimes by themselves. More often than not, they hole up in his ratty flat until she finally untangles herself from her arms and says she has to leave before her parents get worried.
He always tries to convince her to stay longer, usually with little success.
Most of the time she'll say, "My dad doesn't like you that much, Joe."
But the rare times are when she silently acquiesces, and curls right back into his arms. Those are the times when he always thinks maybe she feels the same way that he does. Those are the times when he thinks they'll make it, for a while at least. Maybe longer.
Jess.
Dark eyes. Smooth brown skin. Thick, soft, wavy black hair.
His.
When she returned from America for the summer, her parents threw a small party. He had come, eaten aloo gobi, made mindless small talk with the people there, and avoided pissing off Jess's mum and staring longingly at Jess too much.
All in all, he considered the party to be a success.
They spend a lot of time together, making up for the time they've missed when they weren't allowed to be together or when they were too busy convincing her parents that they should be together to actually really be together.
They don't talk much. They talk about soccer, or the latest news about Beckham, her idol. (And his too, if it had to be admitted.) She tells him about America and all the hearts Jules has broken, and he strokes her hair and wonders just how he managed to survive so long with her gone.
Sometimes, they even have dinner with their family. Jess's mum still gives him the evil eye, (Joe has a feeling he'll have to get used to that) but Jess's dad is all right. More than all right, actually. In Mr. Bhamra he can see the kind of dad he wishes his own father was like. While Joe's relationship with his father has improved, he still has a better relationship with Jess's dad, which under the circumstances, is downright bizarre.
And of course, Jess more than makes up for the Death Glares from her mum.
Things aren't perfect, of course. They still get the occasional meaningful glances and whispers from the Indian people who see him and Jess holding hands. But Jess's sister, (who is named, of all things, Pinky) will always loudly asks them just what they think they're staring at.
So they go out to clubs and restaurants, sometimes with Jules and Tony and Pinky and her husband Teets, (Lord Almighty, Teets?) sometimes by themselves. More often than not, they hole up in his ratty flat until she finally untangles herself from her arms and says she has to leave before her parents get worried.
He always tries to convince her to stay longer, usually with little success.
Most of the time she'll say, "My dad doesn't like you that much, Joe."
But the rare times are when she silently acquiesces, and curls right back into his arms. Those are the times when he always thinks maybe she feels the same way that he does. Those are the times when he thinks they'll make it, for a while at least. Maybe longer.