Fade into You: Chapter 17 - Wretched
Sarah killed the ignition, and the music ended in the abrupt sort of way that precedes a loaded silence. Jareth's rapt attention seemed to drill through the side of her face as he shifted nervously in the passenger seat.
Anxiety was writ across his face when she turned to him. He looked like he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. Or was worried she was about to declare she'd changed her mind. Or both.
"Thoughts?" Sarah urged, nerves tingling with apprehension as she second-guessed her boldness. She felt suddenly vulnerable, fearful of rejection—afraid she was rushing or pushing or something bad.
His mouth opened and shut as if he'd had something to say and then scratched it. "It's impolite to invite yourself," he told her instead. His expression turned masterfully passive as he relaxed back in his seat. "Rude woman."
She snorted, relieved as a little of the tension dissipated. "Proudly rude."
Jareth smirked. "If you insist upon coming along, I suppose I have no choice," he drawled with feigned disinterest before adding under his breath, "As though I haven't all but begged you to visit me for months."
"Years," Sarah corrected, matching his dismissive tone. "Though I guess it is at least a little inconsiderate of me to assume you could throw together a last-minute date."
Jareth straightened and leaned in closer, his eyes glittering and locked on hers. "That sounds like a challenge."
She raised a questioning brow. "Challenge accepted?"
"Oh, Sarah." His eyes rolled like he had no patience for such a foolish question. "Have you known me to turn down a dare?"
Sarah hummed thoughtfully, even though it wasn't a hard question to answer in the slightest. "Never," she finally allowed.
He considered her a moment before shrugging a casual shrug. "I should probably stay true to form, then."
"Probably," she told him, playing along like she couldn't care less either way though she couldn't help but smile.
"How much time do you need to pull yourself together?" Jareth asked, reaching across to unbuckle her seatbelt before unclicking his own. The look he sent her was full of mock disapproval. "You look like you've just spent a long weekend traipsing about in the wilderness."
Sarah laughed. "Shut up, feather head," she scolded, tossing an amused glance back at him before they stepped out of the car.
"Well?" he prodded, peering at her over the roof.
She opened the trunk and reached for her duffle. "I'll need help unpacking the car, and then—" She stopped short as the weight of her bag disappeared from her fingers. When she looked down, her trunk was empty.
"And then?" Jareth asked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Sarah smirked. "Eager to get this date on the road, are you?"
"Perhaps," he admitted, his hand finding hers while they walked to her front door. "How long?"
"Give me an hour," she said as they pushed into the entryway. "Are you going to wait here?"
"As much as I regret being unable to watch you shower, I think I'll pop home and alert Flit of your impending arrival," Jareth informed her. "Better I bear the brunt of her interrogations without you present."
Sarah sighed. "I am admittedly a bit bummed to be missing out on that."
"That's because you"—he planted a fond kiss on her forehead—"are a sadist."
"A haggard sadist," she reminded him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "See you in an hour?"
Jareth nodded with a smirk and vanished.
His sudden absence was jarring, as was the feeling of his fingers disappearing from between hers. She had become so accustomed to him being around, and it unsettled her to realize she missed him already. She tried to push away the ache worming its way into her chest and beelined for her bathroom.
The warmth of her shower was a relief, but it wasn't enough to fully drown out the unwelcome thoughts that poured into her mind before she could stop them.
What if I'm in over my head?
What if I care too much?
What if this all falls apart?
What if, what if, what if…
Half an hour that she couldn't account for later, she found herself wrapped in a towel and surrounded by a pile of clothes. She lost more time as she tried on various outfits, none feeling quite right for a first date in the Underground.
She cursed herself for not asking Jareth what she should wear. Dresses felt too formal to commit to without knowing what he was planning, and she was looking forward to taking a break from jeans and shorts after wearing them all weekend.
She settled on a denim skirt and a flowy, off-the-shoulder top with a delicate design of orange and purple flowers that complimented the carnelian sun pendant at her throat. Shoes posed a whole other dilemma, and she tore through her closet before opting for comfort and pulling on a pair of sandals.
Plopping down at her vanity, she glanced at the clock. Jareth would arrive in five minutes, and she had no idea what to do with her makeup.
Shit, shit, shit…
And all the while, What if, what if, what if…
Panicking, she swept eyeliner across her top lash line in a hasty cat's eye. Her hand was trembling with the pressure of the ticking clock as she tried to mirror her work on the other lid.
She swore as she sat back and assessed her uneven liner, scrubbing at one side with a Q-tip.
The second attempt was just as unsuccessful, and she felt the sudden urge to cry as a ceaseless chorus of what-ifs crescendoed in her mind. The corner of her left eye was a blurry mess as she blinked away anxious tears. "No, no, no—"
Sarah felt the shift in the atmosphere as Jareth appeared behind her. Technically, he wasn't breaking his agreement of not sneaking up on her since she could see his reflection.
Jareth looked like he was about to smirk before her distraught expression registered. He sighed instead before gliding over to where she sat. "May I help?" he asked, gently taking the eyeliner from her shaking fingers and setting it on her vanity.
She nodded, embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm not ready, I just—"
"You're nervous," Jareth supplied, his tone observational without a hint of mockery. He dampened another Q-tip with makeup remover and straddled her. "Close your eyes. Let's see what you've done."
She obeyed, grateful to shut out the world for a moment while she attempted to bully her breathing back to something resembling normal. Jareth's breath was a soft breeze against her face and her mind flashed back to the last time he'd done her makeup. The unbearable tension that had strung itself between them then like a violin string fit to snap juxtaposed sharply with the grounding weight of him atop her thighs.
Gloved fingers tipped her chin this way and that. "Sarah," Jareth chided. "How many times must I suggest not attempting a liner wing at the very last moment?"
Sarah huffed a self-deprecating huff. "Doubt it will be the last time," she said bitterly as he wiped away the evidence of her botched attempt.
"Oh, I rather hope not," he told her, a smile in his voice. "I enjoy sitting in your lap."
Remembering their deal, Sarah tried to brush his comment aside. Like it didn't drag memories through her mind that made her shiver. Like she wasn't thinking about how good he smelled, like fresh herbs and something richer. Cedar, maybe.
She became suddenly aware of how tightly her hands grasped his kneecaps, and she tried to steer the conversation back to her mangled eyeliner and tendency toward hasty cosmetic endeavors. "Why am I like this?"
"Because you're nervous," he repeated in a singsong.
A cotton swab dabbed away the makeup remover before she felt the liner brush smooth above her lashes and flick expertly at the corner.
"Maybe," Sarah conceded, her heart thundering at his nearness as though they hadn't been figuratively and literally on top of one another for three days. "But you're being generous. This is a character flaw."
"I like to think of it as an endearing character quirk," he told her teasingly.
She chuckled. "I'm glad you're here," she said, and it was true. As treacherous as her heartbeat was—galloping nervously as so accused—the reality of him pressing her into the velvet of her vanity seat cushion was reassuring. The reel of what-ifs had slowed to something more manageable, at least.
"I'm glad to hear that," Jareth said. "Open your eyes and look down for me."
Sarah cast her eyes down and did a terrible job of hiding that her gaze immediately focused on Jareth's half-hard bulge. Then lingered, her fingers itching to touch.
He brushed mascara onto her lashes—unbothered—before kissing both of her reddening cheeks. When greens met blues, he was smiling at her.
"Still haggard?" she asked, her own smile pulling at her lips.
"Stunning," he answered before gracefully climbing out of her lap and unabashedly adjusting himself.
Sarah allowed herself to get a good look at him for the first time. To say he'd dressed up would be an understatement. An opulent silk, frilly shirt was tucked neatly into tight black trousers. The amethyst moon rested proudly over his sternum. A shimmering cape the deep blue of the evening sky flowed around him and he had a full face of what Sarah called his 'special occasion' makeup.
"You look amazing," Sarah told him, unable to keep the slight whine of dismay out of her voice.
Jareth smirked and swirled his cape demonstratively. "Don't sound so pleased."
She pouted. "I'm underdressed."
"You're perfect," he said, picking up her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
Her heart skipped a beat at the brush of his lips against her skin. "Not quite," she told him and reached for the purple lipstick he'd chosen for her what seemed like so long ago now. She smoothed the shade over her lips before pressing them together with a purposeful smack.
"Sadist," Jareth hissed approvingly.
Sarah laughed and let him pull her to her feet. "Do I need to bring anything?"
His thumb rubbed the top of her hand as he studied her. After a moment, he said, "That's up to you."
Her breath caught at his implied meaning. "Do you…um…" She bit her lip, suddenly nervous she'd misread him.
"Want you to stay the night?" Jareth finished for her, those crinkles at the corners of his eyes she loved so much warming his smile. "Tonight and every night."
"Just an innocent sleepover," Sarah added hurriedly.
He flattened a palm over his heart like he was taking an oath. "The chastest of slumber parties."
Sarah chuckled and moved to her closet. "Give me a sec," she told him as she threw pajamas and a change of clothes into a bag. She ran to her bathroom and returned with her toiletries.
"Ready?" Jareth asked as he took the bag from her and slung it over his shoulder.
She took a steadying breath and took his hand. "Ready."
The next thing Sarah knew she was in Jareth's throne room. It was startlingly deserted, or so Sarah thought before a head—one donning a leather cap sprouting curved horns—popped out importantly from behind the throne.
"Highness!" the goblin she recognized as Lem exclaimed, a polishing rag clasped in one hand. "I was just shining—"
"Lem," Jareth interrupted, apparently eager to cut him off before he detailed every chore he'd done since they'd last spoken. "Where is Fl—"
"Hi Lem," Sarah cut in, stepping in front of Jareth. She held out her hand politely. "I'm Sarah."
Lem blinked at Sarah, then at her hand. "You wanting me to polish that, or…?"
Jareth groaned and snatched Sarah's hand away. "Where is Flit?"
"She's been hiding from Curd all day," Lem informed him, his voice lowering to a hush like uttering the raccoon's name would summon her. He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Unsuckfully."
"Un-what?" Jareth asked, refusing to match Lem's cautious volume.
"Unsuckfully," Lem repeated before noisily sniffing a trail of snot in danger of fleeing from a rather cavernous nostril. "She's tried. And she's failed."
Jareth looked more confused and no less irritated.
Sarah giggled. "I think he means unsuccessfully."
"That's what I said," Lem protested with a huff.
Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Back to the question I asked," he said in clipped tones. "Where is Flit at this moment?"
Lem's eyes scanned the room and he shrugged. "Not here," he supplied, immune to Jareth's growing ire.
"I can see where she isn't," Jareth said, gentling his voice in a seemingly painful attempt at changing tack. "But where is she?"
"Upstairs, waiting for you in the eastern wing," Lem told him. "Shoulda just asked that," he added in a bewildered tone like Jareth had been speaking in riddles.
Sarah managed not to laugh, but couldn't fight the smile spreading across her face.
Jareth's hands were balled into clenched fists at his sides. "I did—"
"Come on," she said, tugging on Jareth's sleeve and feeling very much like she was disrupting a one-sided sibling squabble.
Jareth sighed and let Sarah lead him out of the throne room. She didn't know where she was going other than the opposite direction from where she remembered the Escher room to have been.
No thanks.
After they'd walked a few paces, Jareth took charge and steered her down a hallway and up a winding flight of stone steps. "Watch out for marbles," he warned her with a wink.
"And tacks," came Flit's exasperated shrill from the top of the stairs. "That's her newest method of attempted murder."
"'Attempted murder' seems like harsh phrasing," Jareth teased.
Flit seemed less than amused. One of her feet was bootless and wrapped in bandages. "Attempted maiming, then."
Jareth eyed her foot as they reached the landing before meeting Flit's gaze. "Victorious maiming, it appears."
Flit stomped her good foot. "I told you she has been escalating!"
"You did," he agreed. "Where is sh—aaagghh!"
Jareth's words were abruptly cut off, his face replaced by a writhing mass of fur and stripes.
Sarah stumbled back in surprise, and Flit jumped up and down with grasping arms that didn't come close to removing the baby raccoon from Jareth's person.
Curd was wrapped firmly around his head, and her teeth were closed around one of his ears threateningly. Jareth's searching hands pried her mouth away first as she nipped at his fingers, hissing and purring all at once. Finally, he managed to disentangle her limbs before holding her out at arm's length.
"I hear you've been rather busy," Jareth cooed at her while Curd scolded him with a stream of chatters and snarls. Her little paws swiped uselessly at the space between them.
"A-ah," Jareth chided fondly. "I won't put you down until you promise to behave."
Flit scowled in indignation, clearly unimpressed by Jareth's lax parenting. "Why, I never!" she said in a tone that suggested she had ever—many times over.
Curd boxed the air for a moment longer before finally slumping in surrender with a sad little whimper.
"Promise?" Jareth coaxed with a raised brow.
The raccoon glared at him for a suspended beat before nodding resentfully and sounding an affirmative chirp.
Jareth set her down with a gentleness that had Sarah swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat. "Sit," he commanded.
Curd sat, but not before taking her sweet time to consider her options. Her ringed tail switched agitatedly as she waited for his impending lecture.
"Curd," Jareth began, towering over her with his hands on his hips. "You've been naughty."
The little raccoon began chittering at him in a burst of explanations before Jareth interrupted her with another, "A-ah!"
Curd's mouth snapped shut as Flit harrumphed in support of the new sharpness in Jareth's tone.
"I allow you to roam freely under certain conditions," Jareth went on. "Isn't that right?"
Her beady eyes glanced sidelong at Flit before flicking back to Jareth. She nodded again with a short jerk of her masked face.
"Have you been holding to that agreement?" Jareth asked. "Answer me true, or we will have to renegotiate our terms."
"For Goblins' sake!" Flit blustered, but Jareth held out a quelling hand.
"Let her answer," he told Flit, not unkindly.
Curd quickly glanced at Flit's bandaged foot before her gaze drifted away to examine an unremarkable candle sconce with sudden interest.
"Curd." Jareth dragged out the name with an implied warning. "Look at me when I am speaking to you."
When Curd's eyes met Jareth's, they were the size of saucers and full of forced remorse. She shook her head.
"You don't say," Flit commented resentfully beneath her breath.
Jareth sent Flit a can you not right now? look before addressing Curd again. "Have you been particularly antagonistic to Flit?"
Curd's shoulders lifted and fell, the motion looking for all the world like a shrug.
"No more hunting Flit, Curd," Jareth told her, his words a stern order. "Or anyone else," he added quickly when Curd looked a little too compliant.
Curd darted forward and wrapped her arms around his leg, nuzzling his calf with a sorrowful whine.
Jareth knelt down and took the little raccoon into his arms. "I know I was gone," he said as he cradled her to him. "I'm sorry. But it's no excuse for violence."
The raccoon gave a morose little bark that left Sarah unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry.
"We treat others with kindness and respect," Jareth continued, and Sarah's heart all but exploded. "From now on, you will only play hide-and-seek with me, and only if I know we are playing."
Curd whimpered noncommittally.
"Agreed?" Jareth urged.
The raccoon nodded before burrowing her face into the crook of his neck.
Jareth nodded approvingly. "You've behaved badly, but you are not bad," he told her, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
Curd pulled Jareth's ear between her teeth again, nibbling affectionately as purrs rumbled through her.
"Now apologize to Flit," he told her firmly.
Her purrs stopped abruptly and she cast a wary eye at the little goblin. After a long moment, she let out a chirp that sounded at least somewhat sincere.
Flit crossed her arms. "No more marbles. No more tacks," she said. "My foot really hurts, Curd."
Curd pushed out of Jareth's arms and folded herself around the tiny goblin. She chirped again, and this time, true penitence was clear in the apology.
"For Goblins' sake," Flit repeated with an exasperated sigh. The baby raccoon's head was nearly at a level with her own, and she patted the top of it awkwardly. "I accept your apology."
Curd's saucer eyes were back as she gazed at Flit expectantly as if to say, and?
Flit sighed again. "I love you, too, you scoundrel."
Curd chirruped happily before scampering off.
Sarah watched Jareth's and Flit's expressions as they tracked the raccoon's progress down a hallway. Flit still looked exasperated and harassed, and Jareth looked warmed and wistful—but it was the bottomless affection on both of their faces that had Sarah's chest filling with emotion. She felt like she had observed something precious and intimate, a glimpse into a family she was privileged enough to see only now.
Flit turned to Sarah and shrugged. "What can you do?"
Sarah chuckled. "Couldn't tell you. She's adorable."
The little goblin scoffed fondly and Jareth beamed.
"Welcome back, Sarah," Flit said, smiling a true smile at her before looking at Jareth. "Everything is prepared." Her orange goat eyes narrowed. "Behave yoursel—"
"Yes, yes," Jareth interjected. "Let me see to your foot before I gallivant off to commit ungentlemanly acts."
He waved a hand and the bandage around Flit's foot unraveled like a charmed snake. Kneeling down, he gently took her foot in hand before muttering a string of unknown words. Tiny glyphs and runes Sarah didn't recognize sparkled in the air and sank into Flit's skin.
Flit wriggled her toes. "Thanks," she told Jareth with only a dash of lingering resentment. "Mind yourself," she added before Jareth could protest.
She turned to Sarah and gave her a wobbly bow—the kind that suggested she was entirely unaccustomed to bowing—and disappeared.
Jareth offered an elbow to Sarah. "Shall we?"
"We shall," she said, taking his arm as he led her down a series of hallways.
The maze of halls was unmemorable, with floors and walls of aged sandstone, and candles flickering in sconces, lighting their way.
The large chamber they entered, however, took Sarah's breath away. The walls were decorated with large tapestries showing various scenery, some looking vaguely recognizable to Sarah, but not quite right—like a magenta mountain range with bronze snowcaps, and a silvery desert landscape with a sky full of orange, roiling, cumulonimbus clouds.
One showed a view from what looked like the moon, Earth floating in a bath of darkness beyond the pale rocky terrain. A white sun hung, mid-rise.
The images seemed to shift and sway slightly as Sarah studied them, so vibrant was the thread they had been woven with.
"What are these?" Sarah asked. "They can't be normal tapestries."
"Indeed, they are not," Jareth agreed with a poorly concealed grin at her wonder. "Though I've not come up with a more inventive word in which to name them."
"Wait." Sarah turned to him with wide eyes. "Did you make them?"
"I'm told I wove them when I was young," Jareth answered. "But I don't recall a time when they weren't here."
Sarah was quiet for a moment while she considered this. His murky memory of his own youth was such a baffling thing—it always made her a bit uneasy to think about. She wanted to ask him more about the tapestries, but said instead, "Why are we here?"
"Pick one," Jareth told her, his eyes dancing.
Sarah cast him a suspicious look before she glanced around. All of the tapestries were stunning, but she found herself drawn to a brilliant landscape of a pearlescent beach with foamy tides of a milky pink. Fluffy stratocumulus clouds stretched across the aquamarine sky like pale yellow cotton balls with brilliant golden edges.
"That one," Sarah said decisively, pointing to the seascape tapestry.
Jareth's grin stretched, her choice clearly delighting him. "I thought so," he congratulated himself.
Sarah smirked. "You think you know me so well."
"We've been over this," he told her, lifting a shoulder. "I do."
Sarah smiled. It felt good to be known. "Now what?" she asked.
"Now," Jareth said, taking her hand and leading her toward the woven sea. "We go on our very first date."
Sarah felt her brows knit together. "We—what?"
"Location weaving," Jareth explained like he'd forgotten to catch her up to speed. "The magic I used to craft the tapestries."
Sarah's breath hitched. "You're saying we can go there?"
"If we intend to when we step into it," he replied. "If our intentions aren't clear, we'd walk into a faceful of fabric."
She examined the tapestry and focused on wanting to feel that pearly sand beneath her feet, to hear the gentle roll of the pastel sea. To her surprise, the image before her began to move—the frothy water progressing up the beach before retreating, leaving tiny rivulets in the sand behind it.
Sarah felt Jareth's hand span reassuringly at her lower back, urging her forward. She took a step, unsure of what to expect, and felt a salty breeze kiss her cheeks as she passed beyond the tapestry and into a whole new environment.
Scaly, verdant green creatures soared above them—their wing and tail feathers as gold as the sun, shimmering behind the clouds. One dove beneath the waves and retrieved something like a fish, though it had flippered back feet instead of fins.
Sarah's gaze trailed from the water to stare at the brilliant beach of tiny pearls. Though it was a sparkling white, it gleamed with every color in the spectrum, seeming to refract a barely detectible haze of rainbow above the sand.
"You can take your shoes off," Jareth said from beside her.
She wasted no time in unbuckling her sandals and sliding her feet out of them. She dug her toes into the warm bed of pearls and looked at Jareth.
"This is incredible, J," she told him, a huge smile plastered on her face.
"Just you wait," he said, ruffling her hair before striding toward the water. "Walk with me."
Sarah followed him, marveling at the feeling of the smooth sand between her toes.
Jareth stopped near an outcropping of what looked like giant clusters of citrine quartz and peeled off his fancy date shirt before tossing it unceremoniously onto the rocks. His boots and pants followed, thrown just as haphazardly.
He glanced back at Sarah and grinned when he found her a few paces behind him, openly staring.
"Feeling timid, Sarah?" he asked, his head on a tilt. "I assure you, we are alone."
Her feet found the sudden motivation to move as she strode over to him, peeling off her shirt and unhooking her bra as she went. She stood in front of him, holding his gaze as she unbuttoned her skirt and stepped out of it.
"You know I'm not timid," she said, sliding closer. Her finger hooked in the band of her panties. "But if you are, I can leave these on."
Jareth rumbled with something between a growl and a purr that suggested timid was the last thing he felt.
Sarah grinned and ditched her panties with the rest of her clothes on the citrine beside his. "Last one in's a stinky bog!" she called over her shoulder as she bolted toward the water.
"That makes no sense," she heard Jareth retort, hot on her heels. "A person cannot be a bog."
"I have faith in you," she said, laughing as she reached the waves. She kicked a spray of water at him as she spun around.
It missed, but the splash he sent her way did not, spritzing her from head to toe. Sarah laughed again, her heart bubbling over with childlike delight at everything around her: the pastel turquoise sky with its cheerful clouds, the crisp salty breeze tickling her damp skin, the pink foam clinging to the ends of her hair. Even the triumphant look on Jareth's face sent a ripple of joy through her.
"Is it safe to swim?" Sarah asked, though she was already edging her way in.
"The safest," he assured her, close behind.
The water was neither cold nor overly warm, but pleasantly in between. Sarah was thrilled to find herself unusually buoyant as they swam beyond where their feet could touch. They bobbed together in quietude for a time before Sarah let her legs float to the surface, stretching out on her back and letting what she assumed was the inordinate salinity of the water keep her afloat. Her eyes closed, and she let out an involuntary little hum of happiness.
"You look rather pleased," Jareth noted.
Something in his voice snagged, enough for Sarah to crack an eye open to peek at him. He looked positively enamored with the sight of her, and it made her heart stop for a moment before picking back up again at double speed.
"Just fulfilling my wildest mermaid dreams," she told him, her smile threatening to split her face in two.
Jareth pulled a sour expression. "Mermaids are wretched."
"I don't mind being wretched," Sarah said, "if it means I can pretend to be a mermaid for the day."
Jareth's face shifted, brows furrowing like he didn't quite like her words.
When he didn't reply with a quip, she sighed and asked, "What did I say?"
His hand snaked out and clasped her foot. Just a hold. "Do you often desire to be someone you aren't?"
The question was so unexpectedly heavy, she closed her eyes against the weight of it. "Sometimes," she answered honestly. "But I think part of being human is wondering who the hell we are our whole lives, and then we die before we ever really find out."
Jareth was quiet, so she continued. "And the entire time, we want to be more. Different. Better. But the clock ticks, and we are both overly aware of it and completely oblivious."
His thumb rubbed circles along the sole of her foot, though Sarah sensed it was just as much a reflex from being deep in thought as it was an attempt at being reassuring.
"Does that make it hard to exist in the moment?" he asked after a time.
"For me, it does," Sarah confessed. "I'm so wrapped up in the future, being so conscious of how little I have of it, that I forget to live for now."
"It seems the tragedy of a mortal life isn't that it ends," Jareth observed. "It's that they know it will, and waste their short lives anticipating it."
It was Sarah's turn to be quiet as she mulled over the conversation. There was something buried in his statement, something about taking risks while she still could, that had her swallowing hard. Her eyes suddenly stung, and she squeezed them shut tighter.
After a moment, she glanced over at him. He looked far too thoughtful. Way too sad. She pushed her legs back under her so she floated upright again. "Jareth," she said, her hands smoothing his hair away from his eyes before resting on the top of his head. "Stop being so serious."
And then she thoroughly, and with great pleasure and little warning, dunked him.
I was lucky enough to have two wonderful betas help me with this chapter! Thank you Geliot99 and rantobi ❤️
Hey! Sorry it's been a while since I last posted. I hope this was worth the wait! Don't worry, I'm not fading to black, or cutting off their date, or anything. The next chapter should pick up where this one ended. A dunk just felt like a natural place to end an already lengthy chapter.
Thank you so much for reading. I would absolutely love it if you let me know what you think! ❤️❤️
Also wanted to thank those of you who have been reading my new story, Glimpse of Us. I really appreciate the support!
You can find me on Tumblr at foxfaceinthewindow - say hi :)