Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow. "He's going to be insufferable."
"Probably." Jackson's hand rubbed soothing circles on my back. "But I don't care. I’m done hiding how I feel about you."
The conviction in his voice made my throat tight with emotion. Rolling back to face him, I traced the line of his jaw, still barely believing I was allowed this.
"No more hiding," I agreed.
We kissed again, slow and deep, six years of careful distance dissolved into nothing. Tomorrow would bring the party, meeting Buckman, pretending we hadn’t just fundamentally altered our relationship. But tonight was ours, and I intended to make the most of every second.
Jackson pulled me closer, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces finally slotting into place. "Sleep," he murmured against my hair. "We've got time now."
Time. Years of it, hopefully. No more stolen glances or careful distance. No more pretending that friendship was enough when we both wanted everything.
Closing my eyes, I let the sound of his breathing lull me toward sleep. Outside, waves crashed against the shore in steady rhythm. Inside, Jackson's arms around me felt like coming home after the longest journey.
Six years of waiting, of wanting, of carefully maintained boundaries.
Worth every second, indeed.
THE END
Open Seas
Cold air bit at my cheeks as I walked up the familiar path to her front door. January in Michigan wasn't playing around this year. Grandma opened the door before my knuckles could meet the wood. Something she’d done since I was seven, and it still unnerved me in the best way.
She wore her usual dark gray cardigan and purple slippers, smile lines deepening around her blue eyes.
“Right on time, Sammy,” she said, pulling me into a hug that smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. “Come in before you freeze to death out there.”
Inside, her house looked exactly as it had for the past twenty years. Same floral couch. Same photographs on the mantle. Consistency had its comforts.
“Sit, sweetie,” she said, bustling toward the kitchen. “Made you a sandwich. Turkey and Swiss, the way you like it.”
“Grandma, you didn’t have to—”
Already she was pulling out plates, setting down a sandwich that looked infinitely better than the protein bar I’d planned to eat at my desk. Working as head programmer at a tech startup meant lunch was usually an afterthought, something consumed between debugging sessions and pointless meetings.
“Nonsense.” She patted my arm before I sat down. “I enjoy feeding my favorite grandson.”
“That’s because I’m your only grandson.”
“Still my favorite.” She winked with a smirk. “You’re using your lunchbreak to see me. The least I can do is make sure you eat. How’s work?”
“Busy. Stressful. The usual.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, probably another Slack message I’d ignore until I got back. “Same problems, different day.”
“And how’s Elijah doing?”
There it was. I should’ve known she’d ask. My grandma had a soft spot for him ever since he'd helped her set up her iPad two Christmases ago. If you asked me, she had a slight crush on my best friend. Anytime Elijah was around her, my grandmother blushed like a school girl.
Not something I ever wanted to witness. Grandma’s didn’t crush. They baked cookies, crotched, and gave the best hugs. That’s it.
“He's fine.” The sandwich suddenly required my full attention. “Same as always.”
“That boy still doing his graphic design work?” She sipped her tea, but held my gaze over the rim.
“Yeah. Freelancing mostly. Picks up contract work when he wants it.” Unlike me, Elijah actually enjoyed what he did. Envied that about him, among other things.
“Such a sweet young man,” she said, setting down her cup. “You're lucky to have a friend like that.”
