Fleeting Flames - Jenna Ortega x Fem Reader

Part 18

A day at work never dragged so much. You barely got anything done, your focus scattered like leaves in the wind. Matt was rambling—something about a girl from the bar—but his words were just background noise. You checked your phone every five minutes, willing time to fast forward.

Jenna's words echoed in your mind: "I'll be here."

When five o'clock finally arrived, you shut your laptop, tidied your desk, and bolted for the door, a grin tugging at your lips. On a whim, you stopped at the flower shop on the corner. Sappy? Absolutely. But the warmth spreading through your chest refused to be ignored.

Six red roses. "They symbolize 'I'm crazy in love or I want to be yours,'" the florist had said with a knowing smile. Damn, was she right.

Your heart raced as you unlocked the door to your apartment. The silence hit you first. No lights. No TV. Not a single sound.

"Jen?" you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness.

Nothing.

You slipped off your shoes, setting your bag down as you walked toward the kitchen, bouquet still in hand. "Jenna? Are you home?"

Again, silence. No hum of the shower, no soft footsteps.

You pulled out your phone. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing.

Your chest tightened. Panic clawed at the edges of your mind. Did she leave? The thought hit like a punch to the gut. You sank onto the couch, the roses cradled in your lap, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. How could you be so stupid? You'd opened up—let yourself believe.

Minutes blurred into hours, and somewhere between spiraling thoughts and the quiet hum of the apartment, you drifted off.

A soft laugh pulled you from sleep. Blinking against the dim light, you found Jenna standing before you, her smile wide and amused.

"Are these for me?" she teased, nodding toward the roses in your lap.

You straightened, groggy and disoriented. "They were for you, but you weren't home." The frustration from earlier resurfaced, sharp and biting.

Her smile faltered. "A table read ran late. I thought I'd be back before you." She stepped closer, eyebrows knitting together. "I couldn't text. I'm sorry."

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing. "I thought you left for good," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Jenna's expression softened. She climbed into your lap, straddling you, the roses now on the couch. Her arms wrapped around your neck, grounding you. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, pressing her forehead to yours. "You know that, right?"

You nodded, feeling a little foolish but grateful.

She leaned back, plucking a rose from the bouquet. "What do six red roses mean, Y/N?"

You feigned ignorance, shrugging. "No idea."

She pulled out her phone, tapping quickly before her eyes lit up with playful delight. "Aww, 'I want to be yours.'" She grinned, holding the rose to her nose. "Do you?"

You smirked, your hands finding her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you. "Apparently, I do."

Her eyes sparkled, and you kissed her—soft and sweet at first, then deeper, more intense. Every doubt, every fear dissolved in that moment.

You were exactly where you wanted to be. With her.

After the roses and kisses, Jenna pushed herself off your lap, stretching lazily. "You hungry?"