Page 25 of Do You Ship It
Just when I think I’ve got it together and am totally, absolutely, most definitely equipped to handle whatever the rest of the night has to throw at me, I hop down the last of the stairs and come face to face with Jake and Anissa huddled in the kitchen doorway, arms tangled together, both sipping drinks, heads bent near as they giggle about something.
It’s another gut-punch. It’s worse. It’s someone spiking my heart on my favourite stiletto shoe and smiling while it bleeds out slowly.
Not that they’re kissing, or anything close to it, but – what if they did, earlier? What if they do?
It’s not like Anissa owes me anything. Sure, there’s girl code, but it’s not like I ever told her that I fancied Jake. It’s not like she knows I only brought her here to distract Max. And as for Jake –
As for Jake …
God, he really doesn’t see me that way, does he? Not if he can ditch me at a party he invited me to , too busy canoodling with Anissa to even know I’ve been hiding in the toilet crying, to even care.
He’s supposed to be The One.
He’s supposed to be my best friend.
I catch sight of Max coming through the kitchen door, and decide I really cannot deal with any of this. It’s all too much. I just want to call Dad and ask for a lift home, even if it’s too early to leave yet.
But as I whirl away I find myself caught in a sudden tide of movement, bodies pressing out of rooms in all directions and heading to the conservatory – to the back garden. I just about make out Raf calling, ‘Come on, gang, time for the fireworks! Ozzy, mate, you all set? Where’s Dez? Oi, Alfie, give us a hand setting up the Catherine wheel, will you?’
Of course – the fireworks display. The reason we’re here.
I notice Jake and Anissa swept along in the crush, too – I pick out Jake’s sandy hair, slightly dishevelled from its usual style, and see the flash of Anissa’s snake-cuff earring. Part of me wants to do what I thought Max had been doing to me these last few weeks: insert myself between them, be an annoying third-wheel that ruins the sweet, flirty moments they’re sharing, destroy any and all hope of taking things further. And don’t I want to hang out with them anyway? Would it be so horrible if I pushed through the crowd until I found them, and we all watched the fireworks together? I’m sure Max would find us, too.
But I really, really don’t have the energy right now.
Let them have the fireworks , I think, dragging myself out of the way and latching on to a quiet corner in the conservatory where I can stay put. Let them have a kiss if they want one. It’s too late anyway.
I’m too late.
The last stragglers pour through the conservatory doors, out into the pitch-dark night. There are phone torches swinging around and boys shouting instructions as all the fireworks are set up, ready to be lit. I stay inside as the frigid air pours in, leaving me without an alcohol jacket – or a real jacket – for protection.
I draw a breath. Let it back out.
I’m too late , I think again. And maybe I never stood a chance in the first place.
‘You’re not going out to see the fireworks?’
‘Jesus!’ I jump, clutching my chest.
‘Nope, just me.’
I cut Max a glare, not impressed by the joke – or by his lurking. Now we’re face to face, I’m embarrassed by the fact that I had a bit of a meltdown, and all the things I said to him. I’m embarrassed that he had to come and check I was okay, because my so-called bestie was too preoccupied to notice. And that he’s caught me hiding from the party again – when I should be the one throwing myself into it, when he’s the one whose name people get wrong, when …
When he’s looking at me like that, unflinching, seeing too much, and I bristle, hugging my arms tighter to me.
‘Just because Jake –’
‘Drop it, Max.’
He doesn’t, though; he steps into the room, closing the distance between us bit by bit. ‘Just because he’s getting on with Anissa, or because he’s mates with me, doesn’t mean –’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’ I don’t. It’s bad enough I have to reassure myself that Jake isn’t trying to get rid of me; I don’t need Max’s pity, too. ‘I told you, my friendships are none of your business. Jake and Anissa can – they can do what they like. And Anissa –’
Anissa isn’t even my friend anyway, except … I’d really like her to be, but I feel like I’ve already screwed that up because of how I’ve approached it, even if she’s none the wiser.
‘It is my business, if it’s upsetting you,’ Max says. ‘I thought we were –’
‘Just because we called a truce –’
He scowls. ‘Cerys, I don’t know how many ways I have to explain it for you to understand. I thought we were on the same page, here.’
‘Oh, yeah? And what page is that?’ I snap, but it’s a serious question. Just because I understand where he was coming from being all judgemental, and he knows I was jealous of his friendship with Jake, just because we talked …
I’m shivering, teeth gritted and beginning to chatter, and he’s near enough that he angles himself between me and the draft from the open doors, his hand on my arm, rubbing it up and down.
It takes me back to the Worlds Beyond con, how I didn’t bring a jacket because I wanted Jake to offer me his.
‘Listen,’ he tells me. ‘Jake is not going to –’
‘Why do you care so much, if something upsets me?’ I bite out. I want to know, need to know all of a sudden, but I also really need to not hear the end of that sentence. Jake is not going to – what, ditch me, forget about me, ever be interested in dating me?
‘Because,’ Max says, visibly frustrated, shifting a bit closer. The hand on my arm has stilled, holding me rather than warming me up, although the heat of his palm is searing, sending prickles all through my body. His jaw is clenched, his breathing heavy and shallow. Mine is, too. Has been for … I don’t know how long. ‘Because –’
I never get to hear the end of that sentence, either.
I think I realize what’s happening the split-second before it actually happens, because my chin ticks upward and I inhale his exhale sharply, lips parting, before his mouth crashes down on to mine.
My mind eddies, void of everything but the sensation of being kissed, of kissing, of the body against mine and the silk-soft hair between my fingers when I drag my hands up to anchor him closer. My nostrils fill with a sharp, clean scent like pine; the hand on my arm slips to settle between my shoulder blades and the other rests on my hip, the grip tight and trembling, just like my arms around his shoulders are.
I’ve kissed boys before. Three, to be exact. One at a party when I got a bit tipsy – sloppy and only half-remembered the day after; one behind the bike sheds at school when I was fourteen and we were supposed to be on litter-picking duty – not worth remembering; and one fleeting peck on the lips on a date when I was thirteen that might as well not really count.
I have never been kissed like this before. I have never kissed like this before.
I always assumed I would have to think so intently about every part of a kiss like this: how our lips fit together, careful not to knock teeth, hyperconscious of where I put my hands and where his are and if our noses are in the way and how to move my lips and to remember to breathe (do I always breathe this loudly and weirdly?) … And trying to figure out the right pressure, or if it’s appropriate to add tongue and when to add tongue, and a million other things the movies never quite explain.
But this isn’t like that. At all.
It just happens .
Max’s mouth is soft and urgent against mine, and when his teeth catch my lower lip ever so slightly I gasp, and test how he responds when I drag the tip of my tongue just a little over his lip.
I knot my fingers tighter in his hair, vaguely aware of the fact I’ve stumbled – stumbled, like my knees have actually, genuinely, gone weak. The foot-pop moment in The Princess Diaries is suddenly making total sense to me. The wall is now at my back, and I’m very content to be pressed between it and Max if it means this kiss.
We break apart to catch our breath. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes as dark as his hair. I’ve messed up his bun, he’s all dishevelled now, and his lips are full and bright and his cheeks are flushed, and I wonder if I look like that, too. I bet I do.
I want to kiss him again.
‘Cerys,’ he murmurs, ‘I –’
I drag one of my hands through the silken waves of his hair, bringing it to settle against his shoulder, and that’s when I notice them.
Him .
All thoughts of resuming our kiss (and oh my GOD, that KISS! And also, oh my God, I kissed MAX!) go up in smoke because Jake is standing in the open doorway, face ashen, mouth hanging open as he stares at us.
There are tears in his eyes.
He doesn’t look like he just caught some of his mates snogging at a party, he looks like he’s been stabbed in the back.
No no no, this is not happening.
Max clocks me looking over his shoulder – my expression must shift, but I don’t know what he finds there. Guilt? Horror? Regret? All of the above, probably – and he starts to turn around, too.
Anissa is just behind Jake in the doorway. She stares at me and Max with wide eyes, but there’s only ordinary surprise on her face.
Not like on Jake’s.
And oh, God, Jake .
A firework booms in the sky, a hollow sound I feel inside my chest, and I flinch.
‘I –’ I start, but have nothing to say for myself.
I kissed Max. Max! One single stupid truce and suddenly – this happens? What was I thinking ?
Why did it have to be such a wonderful kiss?
And, also, WHY AM I STILL CLINGING TO HIM?
I snatch my arms from around Max’s neck, as if that’s going to make any difference right now. His hands fall away from holding me, too.
‘How could you?’ Jake whispers, staring at me.
‘Jake –’ I don’t know what to say to him, I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know why he cares when –
Oh, no.
How could I – because I had that same thought seeing him with Anissa: how could he ?
Because it wasn’t that I’d lost my chance, wasn’t that I never had one …
How could I – because Jake is in love with me like I’ve been in love with him for so long, and must have been too scared to risk our friendship just like I was.
Why else would he be so upset over me kissing someone else?
Oh, God, I’ve ruined everything, for one reckless, foot-pop-worthy kiss.
My heart hammers in my chest, and all I can do is stare because Jake’s in love with me, too, and this is the best news and the worst news and I have to fix it, I have to …
Jake bolts past us, into the house, and I peel out from between Max and the wall to follow him, only pausing to snap, ‘ Don’t follow me,’ at Max. I can’t undo the kiss, I know that, but I do know that he can only make things worse right now.
I catch Jake’s arm in the hallway, tugging him to a halt.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what happened, I –’
‘You don’t even like him!’
‘I –’
Oh, shit, I’m really not as subtle as I think, am I? He knows, he’s probably known all along, he probably thought that inviting us both to watch OWAR was a good way to help me get along with his new mate … No wonder he cut me out of things like their cosplay-crafting for Comic Con when he knew I didn’t like Max!
‘It’s not that I don’t like him, Jake, I –’
‘You never talk to him! Both of you! You never even talk to each other! You act like you can’t bear to be around each other, all the time ! Is this why? Is this … Have you both been … How long –’ His face crumples, and he presses his fingers to his eyes before his tears can fall. They leave smudges on the inside of his glasses when I draw his arm away, but he pulls back, like he can’t bear for me to touch him. He hiccups, and I bite my lip, not sure how much of this is real and how much of it is just close to the surface because he’s been drinking. I don’t suppose it matters either way.
‘Jake, it’s not like that, I promise, it’s – it was –’
‘How could you?’ he asks again, with another hiccup, and this time a couple of tears spill over. ‘You’re supposed to be my friend, Cerys, my best friend, but –’
A laugh cuts out of me before I can stop it. It’s a short, barking sound that is nothing like me, so much so that Jake startles, pausing whatever tirade he’s got brewing. I laugh again, another horrible, hollow sound, but somehow it feels so good to let it out.
So I let some of the rest out, too. All the dark, anxious, nasty thoughts I kept pushing down and pretending there was a good excuse for. I let it all come spilling out.
‘Best friend?’ I sneer. ‘Is that what you call it? When you hardly talk to me, or tell me anything anymore? Half the time I feel like you’re ghosting me, trying to cut me out of your life like you did everyone from school, and when we do talk it’s only because of this stupid fandom –’
‘What, you mean the stupid fandom you only got into because I told you about it? I didn’t make you get involved, Cerys. I thought you’d like it, and I thought it’d be a cool thing for us to enjoy together, but I didn’t make you watch the show.’
‘If I didn’t, we’d never talk! I’d never see you!’
‘That’s not true –’
‘Yes it is, and you know it. If we’re supposed to be best friends, then why haven’t you been there for me? You know how much shit I’ve had going on at home with my parents, but you only seem to bother asking when it’s convenient. I needed you, Jake. I needed my best friend and you were – you were too busy geeking out over OWAR with your new friend –’
‘So what, this is your idea of revenge? This is how you’re getting back at me for having a life outside of you? By going after Max?’
‘I’m not going after him, Jake, I’m – that’s …’ This whole thing feels like it’s gotten so wildly off track; I try to wrangle it back. ‘I’m not mad at you for having other friends, I’m mad at you for –’
‘Yes, you are!’ he scoffs, then hiccups again and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Even if he is tipsy, this fight seems to be sobering him up by the second. Every word thrown seems to make him steadier on his feet; it makes me feel wobbly and queasy. He scowls at me, and brushes another rogue tear off his cheek. ‘You never let me have anything of my own, Cerys. You’re always – you’re always tagging along .’
‘I’m what ?’
‘You are!’ he bursts out, nodding sharply, even as his breath shudders. ‘You tagged along at school, and you tagged along to the Worlds Beyond con, and now you’re tagging along with OWAR and Max just like you tag along with the girls at college and wear whatever they wear and do whatever they do –’
‘Oh, like you were so into the idea of cosplay before Max –’
‘At least Max cares about stuff! At least he knows who he is!’
‘What, unlike me, you mean?’
‘Yeah! Yeah, unlike you . And you’re so shallow about it –’
‘You want to talk about shallow , Jake? How about your football drama, and Ginny being annoyed that you’re borrowing her car to learn to drive, and every time you crack the same joke about being late with your homework? All you ever talk about is what’s going on with you. You barely ever ask how I’m doing, Jake, and when you do –’
I break off, trembling, sick to my stomach. When he does, it’s hidden under layers of conversation about OWAR in Discord. Like he’s … ashamed of me. Squashing me down, pushing me out, tucking me out of the way of his ‘real’ life.
My eyes search Jake’s, and cold settles into my bones. My best friend feels like a stranger to me.
‘It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore,’ I tell him. ‘And you know what? If this is how you’re going to be, I’m not sure I want to.’
He staggers back, the words slicing between us like a guillotine, and the fight drains out of him in a juddering exhale. Jake’s whole body slumps, his face growing taut around the edges and eyes shining with more tears, but he doesn’t let these ones fall.
Instead, he spins on his heel and storms out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.
I watch him go, feeling all at once numb and agonized. Jane Austen’s Captain Wentworth eat your heart out: I am all in agony now, and it’s definitely worse than when there was still half-hope.
I’ve destroyed it. Not just the hope of a potential romance, but the hope of salvaging our friendship. It’s gone. I did that.
The fireworks keep going outside. BOOM and crack! and fizzzzz , and the oohs and aahs of an appreciative, tipsy crowd watching them all.
Behind me, I’m aware of Max and Anissa standing silently, having watched the whole fight.
Max can’t meet my eye.
That hurts almost as much as Jake storming out on me. I feel so stupid for thinking Max was more than this superior, judgemental arse.
I feel so stupid for thinking maybe he meant it, when he acted like he cared about me, and that’s why he kissed me.
Anissa gives his elbow a quick squeeze, saying something I don’t catch to him, before coming over and slipping an arm around me. ‘Do you want to go home?’
I nod.
We don’t ask Max for a lift. He makes himself scarce. Anissa and I wait on the foot of the stairs until my dad texts to say that he’s outside.
‘How was the party, girls?’ he asks brightly.
‘Yeah, great. Really good. We’re just tired,’ I say, and if he thinks our mood is a bit subdued, he understands now is not the time to ask about it.
We’re halfway home when Anissa waves her phone at me. ‘Jake went back to the party. He’s going to get a lift home with some of the others.’
Right. Of course. They’ve been chatting on Discord. She’s someone he likes chatting to about the books.
Mum tries to give us a bit more of the third-degree when we get home, and I offer up a few half-hearted responses. Anissa fills in for me with a bit more enthusiasm, and a huge yawn that has Mum sending us both off to bed to get some sleep.
Anissa and I change quickly and in silence, and I don’t think this is how sleepovers are really supposed to go. I’m not being a good host.
Then again, we’re not twelve, and my life has just imploded because of a kiss.
I roll over to face Anissa down on the airbed.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt him,’ I whisper into the dark. I don’t think she’s asleep yet. ‘I didn’t even really mean to kiss Max, it just … happened.’
‘I thought you and Runic … I mean –’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I thought so, too. I don’t know. It’s all a mess, and … God, the look on his face … I’ve never seen Jake like that. He was devastated. The things I said to him … I really didn’t mean …’
Anissa props herself up on one elbow, the airbed making a plastic-y rustle. ‘He said some pretty harsh things, too, Cerys.’
‘It’s nothing I didn’t deserve. He’s right, I do … tag along, I’m –’
‘He was out of order,’ she reiterates, so sternly that I let myself believe her. At least for the moment. ‘And anyway, he’d really been putting those Kopparbergs away, plus a few vodka jelly shots … Give him a couple of days to get his head straight, he’ll see things differently. You can both apologize and go back to normal. It won’t all seem so horrible then.’
‘Do you think?’
She nods; I see her silhouetted head bobbing as my eyes adjust to the dark.
Weirdly, I trust her judgement. If she’s been chatting to Jake for a while – and she knows him a bit from school and spent all night at the party with him … At the very least, I trust her judgement far more than mine right now.
Can I blame Jake, for being so hurt? He caught me kissing his best friend. He wouldn’t have reacted like that if he didn’t feel the way about me as I do about him. Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t this what I wanted?
So why is it Max that my mind keeps circling back to – putting his arm around me, keeping me warm from the chill, coming after me when I got upset, then not looking at me after the kiss? Why is that the part that seems to hurt so much more right now?
Is this how Jake felt when he saw me kissing another boy? This overwhelming ache in the pit of my chest that feels like it’ll drag me down, drowning me?
A couple of minutes pass in silence, though neither of us falls asleep. Instead of processing anything, my brain just feels full of raging, white noise I can’t decipher. My lips are still tingling from the aftermath of the kiss, and I touch a finger to them.
I really don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t even know how we got to a point where we were kissing! I thought Max hated me. I thought I hated him . That can’t all change in the span of one conversation on opposite sides of a bathroom door, can it?
Is this what the whole fuss is with the enemies-to-lovers trope? I kind of understand it, if that’s the kind of kiss it leads to.
One very quiet, but very clear thought swims to the surface: I wish we hadn’t been interrupted.
I risk saying out loud, ‘It was a really good kiss, though.’
Anissa giggles. ‘I’ll say! We only caught the tail end but you two looked very steamy.’
‘And his hair’s really soft.’
‘Mm-hmm.’ She makes the sound through closed lips, like she’s trying not to laugh. I throw a spare pillow down, smacking her square in the face, and the giggle bursts out of her.
And because she’s proving to be a good listener – a good friend – I say, ‘For a minute when I saw you and Jake together, I thought …’
Anissa snorts. ‘As if .’
‘Oh. Well … okay.’ Good . Bad? I don’t know anymore. ‘Thanks for, um, coming with me tonight. And for coming home early with me. I know you were having a good time …’
‘Of course!’ she says. ‘I did have fun. It’s sad we didn’t get to hang out a bit more, though. You totally vanished after we got there. I thought …’ She gives a small laugh. ‘Well, after I saw you and Max all over each other, I thought maybe that was why you’d invited me. So you could both ditch Jake without it being weird. Fourth-wheel me a bit. It’s okay if you were,’ she adds in a rush. ‘I just –’
‘No, Anissa, I –’ Rumbled , but not quite. I feel truly, properly heinous for having used her at all – even if it backfired wildly, and even if I do genuinely like spending time with her. More sincerely, I tell her, ‘I’m sad we didn’t get to hang out more, too. Honestly, I thought you and Max would get on really well. I’m sorry.’
‘Maybe …’ she starts, and then falls quiet, never finishing her sentence.
I try to finish it for her. I don’t know her like I do Jake, but I think I’m starting to. I know I’d like to. ‘Maybe we could hang out again soon? Outside of school or the Discord chat, I mean, and without boys getting in the way.’
‘Yeah.’ I can hear the grin in her voice. ‘I’d like that.’
GIRLIE POPS!
Nikita
@Cerys we are on TENTERHOOKS girl, how did the party go????
Chloe
DID YOU GUYS KISS?
Me
The party was okay, no kiss with Jake though. Nothing to report sorry gang
Evie
Oh boooo! That sucks babe
Nikita
But it was so promising! Did he get too drunk?
Chloe
Maybe he didn’t know how to get a moment alone with you to make a move, and it was just too intimidating with everyone else there?
Evie
That’s gotta be it!
Nikita
I see you reading these messages @Daphne, any thoughts/sorrows/prayers for poor Cerys over here?
Me
It’s okay, the whole thing was just a bust. I’d rather not talk about it tbh
Daphne
Kind of busy right now sorry. Will catch up later
Evie
Our resident yappers going quiet? I never thought I’d see the day!
Chloe
Okay well we can just catch up at Costa this week? Morning debrief?
Me
Not sure if I’ll make it sorry
Daphne
Me either. Super busy with coursework rn
Nikita
What?! You two better make time!
I sense DRAMA! Can’t wait to hear all about it
Private chat with @runicrascal
@runicrascal
Hey, can we talk about the other night?
@mythicwitch
Maybe that’s not such a good idea. I’m sorry. Maybe … Can we just forget about it?
@mythicwitch
Try to go back to normal a little bit, with us?
@mythicwitch
I really am sorry
@runicrascal is typing …
@runicrascal is typing …
@runicrascal is typing …
@mythicwitch
Please
@runicrascal
Is that what you really want?
@mythicwitch
I just hate the idea that it’ll change things between us, so yes
@runicrascal
Okay
@mythicwitch
friends?
@runicrascal is typing …
@runicrascal is typing …
@runicrascal
Yeah. Friends.
Mistakes by mythicwitch
Lady Adanna di Silver/Devon Smith, Lady Adanna di Silver/Sir Grayson ‘the Moonwalker’, Lady Adanna di Silver, Devon Smith, Sir Grayson ‘the Moonwalker’, One Shot, Angst, Lady di Silver can unalive a man in the blink of an eye but kiss one and she turns into a wreck
Words: 531 Chapters : 1/1 Hits : 12
Stalking through the palace corridors in search of her prey, Lady di Silver removed her mask and felt for the dagger beneath her ballgown. The prince’s study should be down here somewhere, and once she found him …
But someone else found her first.
A figure slipped out of the shadows between the torches, forcing her to an abrupt halt. He, too, had removed his mask since their dance in the ballroom a short while ago, and without it she could make out every plane of his cheekbones and aquiline nose. He was a striking figure, there was no doubt about that. His elfin blood gave him a grace that few humans possessed.
‘What are you doing here, Sir Grayson? Not interfering with my mission, I hope.’
‘I rather thought I would help with it.’
Lady di Silver scoffed. ‘I do not require your help, sir. I am no damsel in distress.’
He held up his gloved hands in surrender. ‘I did not say “take over”. But if you’d prefer not to have my assistance …’
‘I thought you had business of your own in the castle tonight.’
‘I did,’ he said in a low voice, stepping closer.
‘What changed?’
He held her gaze. ‘Our dance.’
Oh.
Oh .
Lady di Silver wasn’t sure which of them had moved first, only that they were upon each other before she could blink, the frustration of their earlier meeting on the dance floor melting in a hungry kiss, their tongues battling for dominance as her fingers carded through his long, white-blonde hair, skimming over the tips of his pointed ears. It ignited a fire in her belly – not unlike the sort she normally only felt in the heat of battle when swinging a sword, but more intense. It consumed her, and every thought in her mind.
She couldn’t say which of them broke the kiss, but when they parted, she was catching her breath – and trying to understand exactly how this had happened, where these feelings had sprung from out of their earlier animosity – when the Moonwalker’s eyes slid over the top of her head, and his lip curled.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I forgot that you’re never alone.’
Lady di Silver spun on her heel and found Devon some distance away, his head bowed, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, not quite looking at either of them, but noticing her gaze on him. He bowed slightly. ‘My lady.’
Lady di Silver gasped, bringing a hand to her throat. Her lips felt swollen, the ghost of Sir Grayson’s kiss still imprinted there, but guilt squirmed in her stomach to see her faithful, steadfast friend looking wholly uncomfortable and put-out by the impassioned display – and she didn’t think that was anything to do with the kiss itself, but more to do with her .
‘Devon,’ she whispered, but when she glanced behind, the Moonwalker had vanished, silent as the shadows, and she steeled herself. One kiss – one reckless, impulsive moment – could not derail her mission. She could not afford to let it.
‘Come, Devon,’ she said, squaring her shoulders. ‘We have a prince to interrogate, and I shall need your help.’