fake it til you make it | greta van fleet

a kind stranger | five

There was something to be said about the anxiety that comes with meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time.

The thought itself, despite the constant thrum of anxious energy pulsing within your bloodstream, brought a smile to your face. Boyfriend. Josh was your boyfriend, and that was finally a fact rather than a facade.

It had been a little over a week since the two of you had reconnected, in more ways than one, and sometimes it was still hard to believe. It helped that he was practically glued to your side, and you to his. Otherwise, you were pretty sure you'd think it was all a dream.

How could you not? Things had all happened so fast, and your mind was still struggling to catch up with everything. It was hard to believe that only a little over two months had come and gone since you'd first met Josh Kiszka. It felt like a lifetime if you were honest.

You were pretty sure that Josh was more nervous than you were.

He'd stumbled over his words as he'd asked if you wanted to meet his brothers for drinks, cheeks flushed and hands wringing nervously as if there were even a chance you'd say no. The anxiety hadn't ended there, though. He'd been a mess all night, and even worse as the day had dragged on, the clock slowly ticking closer to the time you were meant to meet at The Styx.

"I really don't understand why you're the one freaking out." you joked, though there was an undertone of concern in your voice as you stared over the center console toward the man who was white-knuckling his steering wheel. The Styx was only a short walk away from your apartment, but Josh was so nervous you were pretty sure that his knees were too weak to make the journey.

Josh's eyes only flashed toward you for a second before returning to the road, and he groaned, "Trust me, once you meet them you'll understand."

"What, are they assholes?" you asked, and your heart skipped a beat. Oh, God, was he so nervous because he knew they wouldn't like you? Was that why he was panicking? "Are they not going to like me? Oh, no, what if they don't like me?"

You jerked a little as he parked, cutting the ignition almost immediately. He cursed a little as he turned, finally taking in the wide-eyed gaze of horror that overtook your expression, "Shit, no, mama, of course they're gonna love you. They're only assholes to me."

"Can we reschedule?" you asked, "I feel sick."

He laughed, but his lips pouted as he struggled to soothe you. "I'm just nervous because I know they're going to embarrass the shit out of me, okay? That's it, I promise. Besides, I'm pretty good at saving pretty ladies in bars–remember?" his hands wrapped around your own, thumbs swirling over the skin of your palms before he brought them to his lips.

Each kiss he pressed against your skin brought you a little closer to the earth again. One across each fingertip, and you were breathing more easily. Two more on the tops of your knuckles, like a princess, and you smiled. And, finally, he pressed his lips to each of your palms before you slid your hands to embrace his cheeks.

You swiped your thumbs across his cheeks, warmth blossoming in your chest at the way he leaned into your touch much like a puppy begging for affection. "Okay, I think I'm ready." you finally whispered, "I love you."

His lips caught the inside of your wrist, eyes falling shut with a lovesick smile at the three words neither one of you had been able to stop speaking. "And I love you," he breathed, "I'm telling you now–whatever they say about me, it's not true."

"Liar!"

You jumped in your seat at the sudden shout, followed by a series of pounds on Josh's window which was still cracked open. His eyes screwed shut with a quiet groan, before he was acknowledging, "Break my window and I'll break you, Sam."