Golden Retriever| Jeremiah Fisher x Reader |

|Chapter 15|

The Debutante Tea was coming to an end. I was saying my last goodbyes to my table mates when I heard Gigi let out a shriek of excitement. 

"Oh my god, Jeremiah Fisher! Behind you!" 

I was about to turn around when I felt two strong, muscular arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in from behind. Gigi's facial expressions switched almost instantly.

"Hey babe, hey guys." Jeremiah smiled, oblivious to Gigi. He must have gotten this treatment all the time. 

"Hold up. You and Jeremiah are dating?" Nicole said, eyes wide with surprise.

"Uh-"

"Yeah. Yeah, we are." Jeremiah said confidently, an adoring smile on his face as he looked down at me. I returned it. Damn. This guy was a good actor. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. Nope, this guy is using you for fricking Belly y/n. Don't fall for him. 

"Oh really?" Gigi muttered, her face laced with jealousy and even embarrassment. I could tell she was trying to hide it but it was very uneffective.

"Yeah.." I smiled, Jeremiah pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. What was this guy doing? 

Gigi nodded meekly, giving a weak grin. I felt slightly bad, but a spark of triumph was settled deep in my stomach, proud that I could temporarily call this boy mine.

-----<3-------<3--------<3---------<3

We were back at the summer house, the boys playing games on the TV. I sat contentedly beside Steven, whispering tricks and ideas to him as he raced his car around the track, 

"Hey! This isn't fair man! You're getting y/n's help!" Conrad groaned, losing again.

"She's my sidekick," Steven laughed, giving me a high-five,

"Seriously? More like your my sidekick," I said playfully, rolling my eyes as Steven gave me a small smirk,

"Whatever you say your highness." he replied, pretending to bow.

Suddenly, footsteps started to come closer. 

"Damn! You look hot!" Jeremiah exclaimed, dropping his game-remote.

"Hey, stop flirting with my sister you werido. And you have a girlfriend who's right here, remember?" Steven said, nudging me.

As much as I wanted to brush it off I couldn't. I could feel slight envy growing like a poisonous vine inside me. I turned around, meeting eyes with Belly.

Belly had walked in wearing a pair of denim cutoff shorts, beaded jewlery and..

my knitted top

The one that my grandmother had made for me before she passed. The one I knew so well. 

A million thoughts were rushing through my head. Where did she find that? I swear that I had put it deep in my suitcase, wrapped nice and safe in my favourite box. It was definitely my one. The bright yellow flowers and white background made with top quality yarn. The one I used to run my fingers across, tracing the delicate knitted patterns.

I took a deep breath.

"Where did you find that?" 

My voice didn't even sound familiar to myself. It was filled with an aggressive, questioning tone. One that you would hear in an argument. The firey feeling of annoyance wasn't leaving.

That was my top.

My memory of my grandma.

FLASHBACK(you would be around 14-ish)

The crisp, fall breeze made the trees wave in the wind as I sat in my grandma's house, on the maroon carpet, watching her knit. Each precise hand movement, each small fraction on yarn. I watched her make the top, the sticks going in, out, under and over. 

"Will I ever be able to do that Grandma?" I asked, watching intently

"yes, of course," she answered fraily. The cancer was starting to spread towards the liver. It was obly yesterday when the Fisher's came and visited our house to wish us goodluck for her big chemo operation. Luckily, the specialists said that she had a good chance of living. My grandma was a strong 

"I'll teach you after we come home from the doctors," she said.

"Promise?" 

"Promise."

That was the first promise she had ever broke.