CHAPTER TWELVE: SHIFTING GEARS

Girl meets boy
And boy, he's a looker
Can't separate salt from the sugar

There's nothin' in your pockets
There's footprints on your face
You can't tell anymore
If you're the rabbit or the snake

( Stupid, Kacey Musgraves )

THURSDAY
ALICE

I wake up to the feeling of something tickling my back. It's gentle. Little, quick presses of warmth here and there, moving up towards the back of my neck. I wiggle my body, pressing backwards to try and get more of that warmth on my skin, but my back presses into a rock before I'm able to get anywhere. My eyes open on impact, my head twisting around to try and see what it was I'd collided with. Just as I adjust to the morning light, I feel it again, that ticklish feeling.

It's Jasper. I'm in Jasper's bed.

Jasper is kissing my shoulder. My very bare shoulder. I shift, just slightly, leaning into the sensation, and I realize that all of me is very bare. We fell asleep naked, still tangled up as we'd been for most - if not all - of the night. My heart skips a beat.

"Good morning," he says, voice raspy.

I twist in his cotton sheets, turning and turning until I'm on my other side, face to face with the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Jasper. Early morning sun eases in through his curtains, highlighting the blond of his matted curls, the sweet, light golden brown of his eyes. Or maybe they're green. I'll never be able to tell. His eyelids are still heavy with sleep, his jaw and cheeks covered in scruff. He's perfect. Absolutely, wonderfully, perfect. Jasper smiles, showcasing those charmingly crooked front teeth, and I'm no longer convinced this is actually my reality. I can't be this lucky. "Good morning," I reply, untangling an arm from the sheets so I can reach out and touch Jasper's face. Okay, so he is real, I tell myself. Last night wasn't a dream. Neither is this.

My body is tired - admittedly a little sore - but I wiggle myself closer to Jasper, close enough to curl my fingers into his tangled hair. He leans in, still smiling, and I press my lips to his. Once, twice, three times. Jasper's arm finds its way around my waist, fingers splaying out across my still bare back. My mouth parts at his touch, inviting Jasper to deepen the kiss. He tightens his grip, effectively keeping me tight against his chest. Then he rolls us both, landing my head back against the pillow. He hovers above me for a moment, that same look in his eyes that I grew addicted to last night. I reach up and pull Jasper's face down to my own, desperate for more of him. He laughs against my mouth.

"What?" I question, the word squished between eager kisses.

"You sure wake up quick," Jasper teases, pulling back to put some distance between us.

I fall back against the pillow with an overdramatic huff. "You're the one who woke me up looking like that."

"This is just what I look like, Alice," he says, all fucking smug. "Nothin' I can do about that."

"And I'm not allowed to enjoy it?" I ask, blinking innocently back at him.

Jasper groans in response, his head dropping until his forehead is resting against mine. "You certainly are," he replies, nose brushing against my own. Jasper's lips ghost against my mouth, then down along my jaw. He lands by my ear, breath sending shivers down my spine. "But …"

I take the opportunity to slide my arms around his neck, as far as I can down the expanse of his bare back. "But what?" I demand, surprised that I can find my voice at all.

"It's eight thirty," he mutters.

"No it's not," I say with a laugh.

Jasper turns his head, pressing a line of kisses down the skin of my neck. "Certainly is," he replies.

I shift in his grip, eyes darting around the room to try and source out any kind of clock. Jasper takes the opportunity to press one more kiss to my face before rolling off of me and onto his own pillow. He reaches past his edge of the bed and produces an alarm clock, flashing a bright red 8 : 3 6 am.

"Oh my God," I groan, the only thought I have before my body lurches into motion. I fight against Jasper's sheets, trying hard to untangle myself from both his arms and the dark blue cotton all at once. He laughs as I tumble my way out of bed, desperately trying to fashion myself a robe out of his bed sheet, but it's all I've got to cover myself while I frantically search for my nightgown. I find the thing abandoned by the foot of Jasper's bed, along with the strewn remainders of his clothing from yesterday. Blush floods my face, heat spreading down my neck at the memory of exactly why I'd woken up naked in Jasper's bed. Oh my God.

I stare at my nightgown clenched desperately in my hands, the same one that Jasper easily worked off my body last night.

"You alright, darlin'?"

I turn my eyes in his direction, finding Jasper leaning back against the pillows, his tone chest exposed. He's smiling, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a fantastic smirk. "I've got to get dressed," I hastily answer, trying to drag my mind away from the thought of that mouth working wonders on my body.

He nods, looking as though he's giving my mindless rambling serious, in-depth consideration. "I think you might want to shower first," Jasper finally says.

My face gets hotter, if that's even possible. I must be red as a lobster by now. "Right. I need to shower."

With that, he drags himself to his feet, stretching out his long and lean and naked body with every languid step. Jasper keeps a lazy smile on his face as he walks right by, outlined by the hazy, almost silver morning light seeping in through the windows. My eyes never leave his form, hungry to see every inch of his skin now better illuminated by the light of day. I stand there unblinking, lost in the fog of my own freakin' hormones, until I hear the splash of a shower being turned on.

"C'mon darlin'," Jasper drawls, the raspy tenor of his voice dragging me closer.

So, the shower's definitely not the only thing being turned on.

I know - I seriously know - that I'm running late, and I know that I shouldn't let Jasper derail my day further. I know that I should find my own shower, get dressed, and get to work as soon as I possibly can, but this does count as getting in the shower. I tell myself: there's nothing wrong with a little water conservation, right? It doesn't take much convincing before I'm walking towards the bathroom, dropping Jasper's sheet and my nightgown to the floor in the process.

He's already soaking wet when I join him in the glass shower stall, curls weighed down into a thick curtain of dark blond. Water catches on his cheekbones and his chin, and when I get closer I see them on his eyelashes, too. We both just stand and enjoy the warmth of the water - and each other - for awhile, until Jasper reaches a hand up to my face, to brush a strand of soaking wet hair off my cheek.

He swoops in to kiss me, eyes falling closed, but I take the opportunity to grab a hold of his arm, twisting it around to reveal the scars I'd found there last night. They start just above his shoulder, coming down in twists and turns, some straight, some like eerie crescent moons, all so long healed they're barely visible. All but one: the long, definite, surgical scar that dissects his forearm. "What's this?" I ask, using my free hand to trace along the pinkish line.

Jasper shakes his head and gently pulls his arm out of my grip before reaching down to my hip, turning me just slightly. He lifts his hand, fingers tracing out the three letters tattooed on my left rib cage. "What's this?" he asks head still lowered towards me. Then he reads aloud, "M - A - B."

I twist out of his grip, his warm fingers falling off of my skin. "That's a long story," I cautiously reply.

He smiles. "Call us even, then."

I didn't expect that. My huffing reply is interrupted by the hungry press of Jasper's lips against my own. He takes my face between my hands and holds me still, effectively distracting me from … whatever it was we were talking about with a series of precise, almost dutiful kisses.

"God, you're so tall. I feel like I need a stepladder just to get to your face," I say, after having broken our kiss by falling back on my heels.

Jasper laughs and tries to shift a little lower, his lips easily catching my bottom lip again. I still have to stretch, reach up as high as I can on the tips of my toes. I've never felt so small.

"Maybe I gotta shrink a size or two," he says, before putting his mouth back on mine.

"That could work," I quickly reply, tugging him further down.

"So much easier when we're both horizontal," he groans, arms snaking low around my waist.

I start to laugh, but the sound shifts into a startled yelp when Jasper lifts me off the ground. I wrap around him instinctively and hold on tight, glad to find that his mouth is much easier to access from this height. My hands curl into his hair, and my lips finds his for another desperate kiss.

Jasper's shower quickly becomes one of my favourite places.

It's almost ten by the time I actually find my way into Rose's room, where the rest of my belongings are. I get dressed slowly, my entire body - mind included - loose after an excessively hot shower, and try hard to focus on concealing my sleepless night with a little makeup.

I see Jasper appear in the mirror, stopped at Rose's bedroom door with his hat in his hands. His hair is still damp. His smile is still so genuine that my heart grows at the sight of it.

"I gotta head out 'n find Peter. See what I missed this mornin'. You alright here?" He asks me.

I nod my head in response and turn to face him, my own smile ridiculously big. "I'm more than capable of getting myself ready for work, Jasper."

Jasper looks down at his shoes and chuckles, surrendering to me with a shake of his head. "Alright, alright," he mutters. "Well, what's your day look like? When can we - when can I see you next?"

I feel a thrill at the knowledge that he's eager to see me again. I want to say: screw today, let's go back to the shower, but the responsible adult in me answers instead. "God, honestly, I have no idea. I don't even know where we're gonna shoot today, after all that rain last night. I'm sure everything is just sludge out there." Jasper lets out an appreciative hum. "But before I can even think about that," I continue, "I've got to talk to James. Or, grovel, really. Even if he truly hates my guts, we need a photographer to get through the day. I need to play nice."

Jasper looks away, weight shifting between his feet. I can hear him huff, even from across the room.

"What?" I ask, a single brow raised in question.

"Can't say I'm a big fan of the guy is all."

"Right now, neither am I," I breathe out. "Yesterday was … I've never seen him like that. It's like the second he knew that nothing was going to happen between us, something changed."

"Just be careful, alright?" Jasper puts on a friendly expression, just for me.

I want to laugh. I want to think it's ridiculous that I should be careful around a man I know so well, but I don't. Jasper is right. James - or at least the James I came to know yesterday - is no longer the same person I was dealing with yesterday morning, or the morning before. I can't laugh about it. It's not funny, not even a little bit. "Of course," I say, "but try not to be worried, okay? It may surprise you, but I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

Jasper nods his head and stands a little straighter, unable to stop the smile that threatens to return to his face. "Oh, I know it. I wouldn't bet against you any day. James better watch his back."

I laugh, and so does he.

"Alright," he says, "good luck, then." Jasper turns to walk away, and I jolt into action, hurrying after him in a pathetic attempt to keep up.

"Hey," I say, "wait." Jasper stops, turns to face me. "Can you - can you meet me in the mess hall in twenty minutes for a cup of coffee?" I ask. I've got a pretty crazy day, but -" He smiles brilliantly at my suggestion.

"Yeah," Jasper answers. "Yes. Of course." His happy spills out, washing over me like light from the sun.

"Good," I breathlessly reply.

Jasper takes one huge step forward, then another, crossing the room in a matter of strides. One of his big hands tangles into my hair and he leans down, pressing his lips to my forehead in one swift, sweet movement. It's a moment so tender, so heartfelt, so domestic, that I start to reconsider the hasty agreement we'd come to last night, between all the greedy, fervent lovemaking. This thing - whatever it is that Jasper and I have - doesn't feel like some small, easy love affair. As much as I want it to be, I know it's not.

Jasper is gone when I open my eyes.

It takes a lot to bring myself back down to Earth. I finish getting ready in a daze, stuck somewhere between the memory of that first, desperate kiss we shared last night and the burning spot on my forehead, where Jasper's lips were only a few seconds ago.

Seventy-two hours, give or take. That's all I've allowed for us. I wonder how many kisses I can squeeze in before then. How many touches. How many glances. No matter the number, even if I squeeze out every waking minute we have between now and sunrise Sunday morning, it won't be enough. I'll never have enough. Not unless I learn how to press rewind on my life - maybe then I can live last night over again and again, until I somehow get my fill of him. I can't do that. If I could, I would. Instead, I'm stuck with what's inevitable: pain. For me and for Jasper. And I've invited it in, welcomed it with open arms. This thing we have has to end, one way or another. Whether it's tonight, or Sunday, our expiry was fated long before we ever began.

Once I'm firmly on the ground, far away from the cloud I'd woken up on, I gather my belongings - save for my cell phone, which I'm hoping is sitting in wait on James' desk, or maybe by the fire pit - and the two garment bags hanging on the back of Rosalie's door. I walk downstairs and out of the Whitlock house, then down off the back porch and towards the cabins, not really paying attention to my surroundings all the while.

I try to focus on today's shoot, or the conversation I'm about to have with my (potentially furious) photographer, but all I can think about is Jasper. It would be annoying, really, my inability to think straight, if Jasper wasn't the only thing around here able to put a smile on my face. God, I really don't want to hurt him. The thought echoes through my mind again and again, until I feel sick to my stomach.

I don't see anyone heading towards me before I hear Irina's voice, shrill as ever. "Where have you been?" She demands. "I was just on my way to the house to see if you died or something."

I shift the garment bags in my hands, trying to see the woman approaching me better. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I think I left my phone in James' cabin or something," I say. "I lost track of time."

Irina continues to strut towards me, her hair done in over-the-top curls and makeup flawlessly executed. She's wearing jean shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt, which looks wholly unnatural against her perfectly-done-everything-else. "It's almost ten!" She huffs, before reaching out to help me with the garment bags. "I know. I uh, I had to uh, finish the alterations on the uh - "

"Thank God Kate had the mind to start getting us all ready without you an hour ago or we'd lose the whole morning!"

"Irina," I snap, too sleep deprived to put up with her complaints. "I said I know, okay? I'm sorry." I shove the second garment bag into Irina's arms. "Just - can you bring that to Angela and uh, shit, I think the other one is for Kate."

"What are we going to do? The ground is a mess again like -"

"I know. I just - I need to talk to James first. Have you seen him?"

"No," Irina snorts. "Thought maybe you two were off somewhere together. I haven't seen him since last night. He showed up at the campfire for a little bit, right after you and Paul Bunyan ran off together, but no one's seen him since then."

"Okay," I say, already walking away.

"Where'd you two get off to last night anyways? Seems like everyone disappeared. Even -"

"Irina, can you fill me in later? I really need to go find James," I say, being patient as humanly possible. I throw Irina a quick, albeit forced, smile and turn back to my mission. I hear Irina grumble something in defeat, which means I'll probably be dealing with her backlash later, but right now I've got bigger issues at hand than a grumpy model.

First being the fact that I'm thoroughly convinced James has left altogether, just packed his things and headed North. Standing outside the door of his very quiet cabin, I'm only growing more sure of it.

"James? Are you here?" I call, banging my fist against the door a second time. I try to come up with other reasons why he might not be answering while I wait. He's in the mess hall, eating breakfast. He's scouting for a dry location. He's hungover and oversleeping. He's hungover and ignoring me. He's just ignoring me. He's had a massive MI in his sleep and died.

I knock again. "I really need to find my phone," I try. When no one answers for a third time, I go ahead and let myself in.

"Are you in -" I notice a flash of bright red, curly hair before seeing two totally naked bodies. "Oh!" I shout, not in control of my own mouth. James and my newest model, the only one I had to scout for the shoot, both startle awake. Quickly - so fucking quickly! - I back myself out of the room. I slam the door shut and stand there, totally dumbfounded.

Irina passes me by, still carting one of the garment bags. "You find James?" She casually asks, totally unaware of the scandal I'd just unmasked.

"Yeah," I breathlessly call back, trying to erase the terrible, nightmarish image of everything I just saw. "I was trying to tell you that Victoria's missing, too," Irina replies, never stopping for a beat.

"No she's not," I manage. I've already found her.

Just then, Victoria slips out of James' cabin, wearing a too-big t-shirt that I assume isn't hers, because her clothes - pants, top, bra, underwear, shoes included - are all in her arms.

"What are you doing?" I chastise, eyeing the woman with scrutiny. "I thought I didn't have to worry about you."

"Then you're just as naive as you look," she purrs in reply, shaking her head at me like I'm some stupid little toddler before gracefully pushing past me.

Yeah, well, then enjoy the chlamydia, I bitterly think, even though I know my anger is best directed somewhere else.

I suck in a calming breath and turn back towards James' cabin, trying my best to keep from exploding with rage. I stomp in, ready to tell the man off, only to see that James is still lying in bed, naked as the day he came. I turn on my heel and slip out the door again, only to slam it shut with a resounding thud. I could scream. I can't believe this man's fucking disregard for, well, any kind of decency. "Can't you put on some Goddamn clothes?" I shout, slamming an angry fist against the door.

"What's your fucking problem?" I hear him say.

That's enough.

I push back into the cabin, no longer interested in whether or not James has managed to dress himself. He has found a pair of jeans, thank God, but I James could be naked as the day he came, and it wouldn't stop me from kicking him where it hurts.

"What did you just say to me?" I demand. "What's my problem? Jesus Christ, James, what's your problem? You're her boss! Do you realize that? Do you realize what kind of fucking power play you're working here?"

He starts to laugh, the sound bitter. "Oh, so that actually matters now?" He spits, pushing past me to pick a white t-shirt up off the floor. He tugs it on, prowling around like he wasn't just literally caught with his pants down.

"What the hell do you mean? Of course -"

"So the rules actually mean something, then? We're not all here just … fucking whoever we feel like?" James puts on a curious, edging on innocent expression.

My voice betrays me. All I can do is stand there.

"Because - as far as anyone here has seen - that's exactly what we're doing. Or, what you're doing, at least," James says, pointing a finger in my direction. It wouldn't be so intimidating if he wasn't stalking towards me. "Tell me you didn't fuck him."

"James," I say, shaking my head. I want so desperately to lie, but I can't. Instead, I just go quiet.

"That's what I thought," he says. "So don't come talking to me about morals."

"So that's it? I go after the guy I actually like and you find the closest thing that breathes to fill the void?"

James shrugs his shoulders, shoving a handful of clothing into his duffle bag before zipping it shut.

"Why?" I demand. "Was she some sort of sick, twisted revenge? Did you just - you just - you - you can't just use people," I angrily reply.

He laughs again, the awful sound silencing me. James closes that final bit of distance between us. "Sweetheart," he says, taking my chin in his hand. I clench my jaw tight and look away, trying to keep any tears locked behind a brave facade. "I learned from you. Her 'n I, well, that was just one night. But you fucked me for two years straight," James says. Then he lets out a sneering laugh and says, "that son of a bitch deserves whatever hell you bring him."

I raise my hands but before I can shove him off, James is already walking back towards his duffle bag. He hoists the thing up on his shoulder, then goes for the backpack leaning by his bathroom door.

"Where are you going?" I nervously ask, no longer sure I have any ground to defend myself.

"Home," James easily replies.

"What? James, wait, no -" I follow him out the cabin door, almost tripping over my own boots in my desperate attempt to keep up. "Hold on, you can't go. Wait - just wait up." He keeps walking. "James, wait. This is your job. You can't just go." "Then I quit," he replies.

"You can't just leave. At least talk to Victoria. Come on. James - James, wait!" I reach and catch the arm of his shirt, but James tugs himself away.

I take a second to steady myself, noticing in my stillness that we've caught the attention of quite a few people - Kate, Angela, Seth, and, dear God, Jasper. Jasper is all but running towards us both, concern so clear on his face I can see it from here. I look back to James, who's now managed to slip another few feet away. I start tracking after him again, hoping to get to him before Jasper does.

Jasper catches up to us in a second. "Hey," he says, voice holding a kind of authoritative tone I've never heard before. "What the hell is going on here?" When James doesn't stop, Jasper quickens his pace and cuts in front of him, effectively blocking off James' exit strategy. "She's trying to talk to you, man," Jasper says, motioning a hand in my direction.

"Tell your bitch to leave me alone," James spits.

I don't even get in a full breath before Jasper's fist collides with James' jaw. He stumbles, and Jasper takes the opportunity to knock him down to the muddy ground.

"We don't talk 'bout women like that around here," Jasper growls, staring down at James with a level of intensity that would be utterly frightening, if I didn't know him better. Jasper takes a prowling step towards his victim and my breath catches.

Maybe I don't know him better.

I'm not breathing. I can't breathe.

James swears and scrambles to his feet, two fists raised and ready to fight.

Someone clears their throat behind me and I startle of my own skin and turn in fear, only to find Peter standing sturdy like a boulder behind me. "You'd better not," Peter says, his words directed at James. "Just you against Whit might be a fair fight, but," Peter sucks his teeth and shakes his head. "I don't think you wanna get up in arms with all us here. We don't play fair."

I start shaking my head, looking back and forth between Jasper and Peter. "Okay, hold on. Everyone needs to calm down." I raise my hands in defense, hoping no one choses to throw a punch before I can get my thought out. "Jasper, just let him leave. Just let him leave. Please. I don't - no one start fighting, okay?" Then I look to James, whose fists are still mid-air. "Just leave," I say to him. "Go home." It's a far better solution than enduring more bloodshed.

James collects his bags off the ground and straightens himself out, all under Jasper's watchful eye. They keep their eyes locked on each other, like two rabidly wild dogs ready to attack. Neither of them so much as breathes until James turns his body towards me. Then Jasper goes rigid, nostrils flaring with each angry intake of air. I watch him over James' shoulder, trying to silently convey that everything is alright, that I can handle myself. He doesn't calm.

When James lands in front of me, I keep my head held high.

"I hope it's worth it," he says, licking his lips and teeth clean of blood. My skin crawls at the sight. "Hope he's a good enough fuck to justify ruining all your hard work."

"Just go," I say, absolutely defeated.

James stalks off, but the chaos he's stirred up since yesterday remains.

No one relaxes until he's out of sight.

Jasper gets me settled on his back porch with a cup of coffee. I don't know how long we sit there staring at the horizon, me trying desperately not to cry, Jasper icing his knuckles, but I'm grateful for his company nonetheless. He keeps his uninjured hand on my back, like he's trying anchoring me down to this world.

"What am I going to do?" I ask. My voice is so weak it sounds pathetic, even to my own ears.

"Maybe we can find someone nearby," Jasper answers. "There's got to be local photographers who know enough to help you out."

I look into my cup of coffee. "I've already stretched this budget as far as it can go, Jasper, I don't have another few thousand dollars to hire someone last minute."

He sighs, his thumb running circles on my back. "Well there's no harm in looking. Maybe I know someone who knows someone who's willing to -"

"It's over, Jasper," I say. "It's done. The dream is dead."

"Don't say that," Jasper replies, chuckling just slightly. "The dream is far from dead. This is just one setback."

"No," I reply, embracing the finality of it all. "It's dead. Six feet under. Kaput. Absolutely lifeless."

Jasper sighs out another breath and leans in to press a kiss to the top of my head. "Drink your coffee," he whispers, trying desperately to settle me down.

I'm too distraught to do anything but what I'm told.

We stay huddled together like that until Angela approaches, still dressed in the outfit she'd been assigned for our shoot today. Just the sight of her makes me want to weep. Jasper straightens up and then so do I, setting my half-empty cup down beside me.

"Hey," she quietly says, showing off her best sympathetic smile.

Before Angela can finish her thought, I say, "please don't tell Bella. She's just going to tell Esme and then -"

Angela laughs nervously. "No, no, it's not that. I uh, I'm not — I uh — I didn't want to like, intrude or anything, but I - I kind of had uh - I kind of had an idea. I thought maybe -" she laughs again, "I thought maybe I could take pictures for you. If you want."

I tilt my head, eyeing Angela curiously.

"I - I took a lot of photography classes back in high school. I mean, I was on the yearbook committee senior year, I worked for the school paper - I still have to take photos for The Local and the journal at NYU. I know what I'm doing. At least enough to keep us on schedule for today."

That's when I remember: Angela isn't here to cultivate a career in the fashion industry. No. Far from that - she's here to make a few hundred bucks - to help pay for her next semester in college. For Angela, this is just a day job. Her true passion is journalism - photojournalism, if I remember correctly. It's far from the life of a high-fashion photographer, but I nod my head along, growing more certain of Angela's plan with every word that leaves her mouth. After all - it's the only reasonable plan I've got. It's going to have to work.

"I mean, if you want. I don't want to uh -"

"Angela Weber, I could kiss you right now," I proudly say.

She turns bright red.

I'm back in work-mode before the woman gets a chance to reply. "Go get changed out of that and meet me in front of James' cabin in ten minutes," I instruct. Angela grins and nods her head, turning to go find something more comfortable to work in. "Oh, wait - wait!" Angela halts, turning to face me again. "Give your dress to uh - give it to Tanya, it should probably fit her. Tell her that we'll shoot the black sheer tomorrow."

She hesitates there for a moment and I watch her, waiting for whatever brilliance might come next. When she fails to say what she's thinking, I promit, "what is it?"

"You wanted to do Tanya and Kate both in the blue tomorrow."

While I fall towards panic, Angela comes up with an alternative solution.

"Tanya is only a few inches taller than you," she tells me, "maybe one size bigger. You could wear it."

It takes all my restraint not to break into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"I'm serious!" Angela says. "The last few days you've mostly just helped James with the equipment behind the camera and that's not so hard. I can handle that, no problem. We can make it work. We could -"

"I don't know, Ang, I just -"

"You'd look good in black," Jasper mumbles quietly beside me.

"But I can't wear my own collection. That'd look -"

"Powerful?" Angela shoots back, effectively putting a smile on my face. "Come on, Al. Come on! We can make this work. Don't let one idiot guy ruin your day."

"She's right," Jasper says. "And I can help with the equipment, if you need. I'm used to lugging shit all over this place. Whatever it is that needs to be done, I'm sure I can help y'all out."

"See?" Angela prompts.

I glance at my sweet, generous Jasper, and then back towards Angela. "It's going to be too big on me. I'm going to have to alter it first."

"Maybe it'll look good. Oversized. Come on! Alice, come on! You force me into hair and makeup on the daily. It's your turn," she tries.

"Alright!" I surrender, realizing I've got no power over the course of my day. "Alright. I'll do it."

.

A/N: THIS IS LATE! It's 2 AM here which is about uh, 4-ish hours later than I hoped to get this up, so I do apologize! But here it is!

Just a little FYI that I'm bumping up the rating on the story to M, just because the content is uh, easing towards the more mature side and I just want to be safe. Any any all TRULY NSFW content (the smut u guys) WILL STILL BE POSTED IN AFTER HOURS. So the one shot off of last chapter - AKA Jalice's first time - will be up SOON, but it's taken me some time as I've been writing these concurrently.

I love you all for sticking with me so far. Thanks for reading this dramatic bullshit?

Also, thank you to those of you who are constantly out here following / reviewing / kudos-ing / sharing / everything you do. It really honestly keeps me writing, so THANK YOU!

And as always, LittleDarlingAJ is a queen and deals with far too annoying questions from me. She deserves all the money in the world.

& check out twiwrite on tumblr for more Golden Hour content !