Jenna Ortega Imagines (2)

18 Hours Apart, Until Now - J.O

You had counted every day. Every minute.
Every missed call that turned into sleepy "I miss you"s whispered through the phone.

Long distance wasn't kind to you or Jenna. At seventeen, love felt both endless and impossible, and every goodbye at an airport burned like a promise you didn't know how to keep. But today, that promise was about to be kept — not by words, but by a flight, a surprise, and the look in Jenna's eyes when she saw you standing there.

You clutched the small gift bag in your hand — something simple: a bracelet you both used to talk about buying when you were younger, engraved with "always." The plane ride had been long, the butterflies even longer. Jenna's family had planned this with care, insisting you come, swearing her heart could use this more than any wrapped gift.

The Ortega house smelled like vanilla cake and laughter when you arrived. Her mom greeted you with a warm hug, whispering, "She has no idea. She's upstairs getting ready."

Your palms were sweating. Your heartbeat was loud enough to drown out the sound of her siblings talking in the kitchen. And then, you heard her voice — familiar, melodic, teasing from down the hall. It hit you like a wave.

When Jenna turned the corner, she didn't notice you at first. She was holding a mug, hair loose, wearing one of her favorite soft hoodies. You'd seen that hoodie hundreds of times through a screen, but it looked so much smaller, softer in real life.

Then her eyes landed on you.

Everything stopped.

The mug slipped from her hands, shattering against the tile, but she didn't even flinch. Her breath caught halfway, chest rising like her lungs had forgotten how to work. Her lips parted, trembling between disbelief and laughter that wouldn't come out.

"Y/N..." She whispered.

You barely managed a smile before she ran.

She collided into you with enough force to knock you backward a step, arms wrapping around your neck so tight it hurt in the most beautiful way. Her shoulders shook, and suddenly your hoodie was damp with her tears.

You'd imagined this moment hundreds of times — the smell of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the way she fit into you like she was meant to. But the real thing? The real thing shattered you.

Jenna buried her face into your shoulder, sobbing, laughing, gasping for air all at once. "You're real." She said between shaky breaths. "You're actually here. I'm not dreaming, oh my god, you're really here."

You wrapped your arms around her tighter, pressing your nose into her hair. "Happy birthday, baby."

She let out a sound that was half cry, half laugh, clinging to you even harder. "No. No, you can't just say that like—like it's nothing. You're here!"

When she finally pulled back, her face was flushed, eyes glossy and red-rimmed. Her fingers trembled as they touched your face, tracing over your jaw like she was afraid you'd disappear. "You feel exactly the same." She whispered.

"So do you." You said, smiling softly. "Maybe a little smaller than I remembered."

She laughed wetly, swatting at your shoulder before pressing her forehead against yours. "You're not allowed to leave. Ever. You hear me?"

"Wasn't planning to."

Her lips brushed yours before you could even finish the sentence — gentle at first, then desperate, all that distance melting away in a heartbeat. You kissed her back like it was the first and last time, your hands tangled in her hair as she breathed out every ounce of missing you she'd been holding in for months.

When she pulled away, tears still clung to her lashes. "I can't believe they did this. My family—how long did you know?"

"A week," you said, grinning. "Your mom almost spoiled it on FaceTime, though."

Jenna groaned and buried her face in your chest again. "I hate them. I love them. I don't even know. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You both sank onto the couch, still tangled up in each other. Her fingers never left your hand, tracing the outline of your knuckles like she was memorizing them all over again. The party noises faded behind you — the laughter, the music, the birthday chatter. For you two, the world had narrowed down to the space between your breaths.

After a while, Jenna lifted her head, her expression soft. "Do you know what I wished for when I blew out my candles last year?"

You shook your head.

"For this," she said simply. "For you. To be here."

Your heart cracked open. "Guess wishes come true when you turn eighteen."

She smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "Only if you're lucky enough to love someone who waits for you."

You pressed a kiss to her temple. "Always."

She exhaled slowly, her body melting into yours once more. "Don't let go, okay?"

"Never."

And for the rest of the night — while the candles flickered low and laughter filled the house — Jenna Ortega stayed in your arms, head resting against your chest, whispering over and over like a prayer she didn't want to forget:

"You're really here."

And you were.

Finally.