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She’s putting the dishes away after dinner, and he’s just come back with drinks for both of them. He sets hers on the kitchen counter (it’s a Hannah-ized monstrosity, barely an old-fashioned, softened with extra cherries and seltzer) and perches across from her on a stool. He watches her over the rim of his bitter, flawless cocktail, smiles as her freckled arms reach for the highest shelf.
She looks over her shoulder and grins. “What?”
Ah, Jesus, he is so in love with her. What a mess. Jacob opens his mouth to say something flirty and innocuous but instead finds himself blurting, “I saw your dad today.” It’d been lurking under his skin for the last few hours, all through dinner. I’m never gonna give you my approval.
That gets her full attention, and she comes around the kitchen island to sit next to him. “Really?” she says, and lays a gentle hand on his arm. “How is he? What did he say?”
“You know. He’s angry. He’s really sad.” Jacob looks at her, regrets making her face fall like this. “I guess I thought I could talk to him, try to explain." He sighs. "Honestly, I sorta miss hanging out with him.”
Her nose wrinkles. “It is still so freaking weird to me that you two are friends.”
I’ve seen too much already. I know too much. Jacob chuckles mirthlessly into his old-fashioned, takes a big sip. “Not anymore.”
“Hey.” Hannah cranes in for a kiss, hooks a hand behind his neck. “Quit being dramatic. It’s gonna be okay. He’ll come around. We’re gonna get you your BFF back,” she tells him seriously, her lips twisting in a smile. Her finger is tracing little whorls along his hairline. She’s wearing a plain white tee, a little splatter of tomato sauce near the collar from eating tonight’s spaghetti way too fast. She’s looking at him with all this affection, sitting here in his ridiculously opulent, try-hard kitchen, and he cannot fucking take how out-of-place she feels right now. How honest she is in front of a liar, how simple when he’s so messy, how someone good chose someone so bad.
To Jacob’s absolute horror, there’s a sudden lump in his throat and he ducks back into his drink, draining it. He’s so mad at himself for losing his cool, for blinking fast while she brings another hand up to squeeze his arm in concern. She doesn’t understand it’s not about Cal, it’s about him, there’s no fixing it.
“He told me I wasn’t good enough for you, Hannah,” he says quietly, not looking at her.
She doesn’t reply. There’s a long pause, and he knocks his ice cube against the side of the tumbler. The sentence just hangs there, making him more miserable by the second. He clears his throat. “I can’t...I can’t say I disagree.” He wants to smash this glass.
There are small, pale hands on his cheeks suddenly, and Hannah forces his face up to look at her. His mouth is squished comically between her palms and he’s expecting to see her looking stormy in that cute, dorky way, where her lips are set hard and her big eyes are narrowed like a small predator. Instead, though, her gaze is soft, her features open and gentle and making him feel completely flayed.
“You are good, baby,” she whispers. “You are the most good.” She pins him in place, sheer will spilling out of her.
It’s the way she says it - not that he’s good enough -
He’s got her in his arms and is kissing her helplessly, recklessly, lifting her off the stool and gripping her against him with an unseemly desperation. Hannah’s returning his strength, though, wrapping her bare shorts-clad thighs around his waist and giving him access to mouth at her neck, her fiery hair spreading on the wall behind her. He flattens his tongue against her skin and she bucks into him a little where he’s already hard; he feels more than hears her gasp into his ear, “Bed.”
—
And she’s rocking into him, pulling him in deep as her hands scrabble for purchase around his shoulders. She’s got her eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open in an un-selfconscious long O; her face is so open to surprise or anger or displeasure, so expressive, and Jacob feels like he’ll die if he closes his eyes too, if he misses a single second of this. Even though she’s not looking at him, he can feel her surrendering to the repeated drive of his hips, melting under the hand he’s splayed wide and strong at the small of her back.
On one hard thrust she whimpers suddenly - “oh fuck, oh god” - as she grinds down into his pubic bone, and it’s the unguarded sweetness of it that does him in. Tightening the grip of his left arm around her, Jacob gets his right hand between them and finds her clit with two rough fingers. He’s rewarded with a moan, her nails digging into his bicep, his hair. “That feel good, honey?” he murmurs, working her with unrelenting pressure, straining to keep his pace steady.
Hannah nods wildly, her movements quickening, her eyes half-opening to meet his. “Ohmygod, yeah. Ohmygod.” Her beautiful red hair curtains his face.
“Wanna make you feel good, baby.” He’s babbling now, feeling embarrassed in some far-off corner of his mind about these words coming unbidden to his mouth. “Want -“ he breaks off on a moan as she twists around his cock. Hannah’s falling apart in his arms, so needy and vibrant and perfect and alive, and the electric sparks of his building climax are suddenly shot through with white hot terror: this is what it feels like to fuck the love of your life.
He doesn’t realize how far away he is until she’s crowding his face with hers, Hannah’s hot breath tickling his nose. Her hips are jerking erratically now and her pinky finger traces the shell of his ear; when their eyes meet, she says in almost casual surprise, “Jacob, I’m gonna come, Jacob -“ and then she clenches around him, wrapping her arms tight behind his neck as she cries out, again and again.
He follows helplessly behind her a second later, pressing his face to her breasts and groaning into the warm wet skin, hiding his vulnerable expression while his hand fists reflexively in her hair. They move through it together, finding each other’s mouths again while the aftershocks still have them jerking and shuddering, and all at once Jacob flashes back to their first kiss at the bar when she made him hers. There was nowhere to be but here, no one but her. He brings his arms around her, and she kisses him again, and tastes like whiskey and cherries.