masquerade//pjm

twenty-four

an// a long chapter but it's super fun :) hope you like and that it makes up for missing tuesday. love youu

~

"No, you can't have a mirror in front of your desk."

"Why not?"

"That's the most conceited thing I've ever heard of." He grinned.

"I can watch my face while I study." You rolled your eyes and move the mirror to another wall. "It'll be like motivation."

"Mirror goes here." You pulled open another box. "Basketball trophies and stuff."

"And lacrosse."

"And math." You read off a math competition trophies label, his name printed in the gold.

"Did you get your mark up to passable?" he asked, not looking at you as he neatly stacked his new dresser with clothes. "For trig?"

"Yeah, sorta." You sighed and stood on his new bed to line up his trophies in a mirrored order of size on the shelf above. He looked up, hands on his hips.

"So you're getting a good enough mark?" You glared down at him.

"It's up to 67 since clearly, you were looking for my grade." 

He grinned. "Good job, babe-- you make me so proud." You rolled your eyes and he tugged on the hem of your sweatshirt. You slapped his hands away as you tried to get a plaque to stand. "Ew, stop trying to undress me, you perv."

"Oh, suck it." You turned to him, still standing on the ground as you stood on his bed, feeling so much taller. He smiled up at you.

"What?" You almost snapped it but your voice ended up a lot quieter than you'd expected.

"Nothing, I just need to tell you something." You sighed. "It's-- it's not serious." He winced. He was supposed to keep it sincere. "I mean, it is."

"Are we breaking up?" He sat down on his bed and laid down for the first time. You stared down at him, arms crossed over your chest as he leaned back, arms behind his head.

"Nah."

"You sure?" He smiled and sighed.

"I'm sorry about the-- the prostitute thing." You rolled your eyes. "I didn't mean it-- well, okay, I probably did, back then-- but I wouldn't say shit like that now."

"Oh, screw--"

"I'm serious, y/n." He was. The teasing tone in his voice that seemed to be ever-present was finally missing. "I don't think that way and I'm sorry I said something shitty like that at any point."

"Whatever."

"You're a very capable girl and-- yeah, nothing wrong with sex work if that's what you want to do but not because-- not because you're ugly." You sighed, turning to step off of the bed. He reached his hand up, though, and pulled on your hand so you were falling on top of him.

You sat up, hands flat against his chest as you readjusted to be straddling him.

"You're just saying that because you need me to get jm/ex back," you spat. He rolled his eyes.

"You don't even let me apologize, babe." You looked away. "That's why you hate me so fucking much? Since I said that back then?"

"You're acting like that it isn't a good enough reason to be pissed at you." He sighed and looked away too, hand resting on the top of your thigh.

"I'm sorry, y/n."

You stared at him, lip between your teeth as you tried to work him out. He was being serious, you figured. He had to be if he looked this vulnerable literally, well, under you. He looked back at you and you kept his stare.