Coffee Stains ➣ s.m

IV

f o u r — j u l i e t t e

Jack groans in frustration as he reveals the still-smoldering, charred side of my pancake, flipping it so that it could perhaps burn on the other side. I stifle a laugh as he drops the burnt remains into the trash can.

Okay, so Jack really sucks at cooking.

You couldn't really blame him for trying, though. At least he got the ingredients mixed together to the point that it wasn't the consistency of water, which was by far the hardest part of making pancakes. Yet he still managed to cremate them every time.

"Jack, maybe you have the heat up way too high." I suggest. I sit opposite of him, perched on a stool at island, observing with great amusement.

"I give up." he announces, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. I roll my eyes, pushing away from the counter.

"Right. Looks like we're having frozen grapes for breakfast." I tell him, pulling a bag of frosted, seedless grapes out of the freezer.

"Better than pancakes," he mutters under his breath, grasping for the bag and taking it over to the counter.

We snack on the grapes until the bag is nearly empty, filled with only the stems and leftover grapes that had gone bad.

"We should get some groceries while I'm thinking about it." Jack suggests, eyeing the empty fridge. I follow him upstairs so we can get changed out of our pajamas.

I throw on one of his tees, not bothering to change out of his comfortable sweatpants. Why do boy's clothes feel more comfortable than my own?

I pull my knotted, curled hair up into a bun. I wear my glasses, far too lazy to bother putting my contacts in. Once I'm decent (or somewhat presentable) I make my way to the bathroom, admiring Jack's muscular back muscles flex as he brushes his teeth, his eyes closed in exhaustion.

His phone vibrates on the bed, a caller ID displayed at the top of the screen. I walk over to pick it up and walk it to him, when something catches my eye. Maybe it was the red heart emoji next to the contact name, or the otherwise adorable contact picture of a laughing girl, half naked in his bed.

"Jax, who's babygirl?" I query, pacing back towards the bathroom. He chuckles, completely oblivious.

"You." He replies playfully, spitting the toothpaste in the sink. I answer the phone, standing in the doorframe and putting it on speakerphone.

"Jackson?"

He freezes at the girl's voice, slowly shutting off the water.

He steps back, rinsing his mouth in the sink. By the time he lifts his head again, tears have welled in my eyes and started to blur my vision.

"You're cheating on me." I squeak, intending it as a question, but it comes out a statement. I hang up immediately, dropping his phone. I gather all the courage I can muster within myself to look him in the eyes, and see the validating look of pity and apology on his face to get my answer. He opens his mouth to explain, but I cut him off.

"I don't need an explanation from you." I finish harshly, sniffing and wiping my tears with the back of my wrist. I dash out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I swiftly gather all my belongings in my arms and storm out of the house, throwing the door closed behind myself yet again.

Jack rushes after me, trying to stop me from leaving.

"Juliette, please! She means nothing to me!" he calls after me. His words go in one ear and out the other as I buckle my seatbelt and lock the car doors. My chest heaves and I try to take deep breaths before I have a panic attack. He sprints in front of my car, standing with his palms planted firmly on my hood in an attempt to keep me from leaving. I hear his muffled voice blurt another apology through the windshield, tears starting to spill from his eyes.