TBS Imagines

Until the End (Part 2)💜

A/n: So this might actually become a series? There's a lot I want to cover with these two. Seems people are already excited about the story as much as I am, so I hope I meet everyone's expectations. Enjoy!

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One whole entire month. Four weeks. Thirty three days.

It didn't seem that long. It seemed no time at all, on paper. In that month, though, Jake and I got well acquainted. We went on dates as often as we could. Hung out. After that night and after meting again the next day and talking about everything that had happened with the gang and between us and the weirdly instant chemistry we seemed to have... it was obvious. Despite everything, Jake and I were genuinely into each other. He couldn't stop touching me - not like I was stopping him. We sat squished together in the booth, our faces close as we talked in low voices. I kept getting side tracked by his features. His eyes, his nose, his smile. His lips. I kept staring at his lips - not like he was complaining. Later, when he left the diner and went walking through the park, he held my hand. We paused, resting under a tree. At first we were side by side but then he rolled over me, unable to hold back from kissing me any longer. After we'd forced ourselves to stop as he started to feel extremely aroused and I was wanting to push it further, I lay on his arm, resting on my side, my hand resting on his chest and stomach, tracing patterns on top of his shirt as he lay on his back, watching the clouds pass as he held me back.

That day, we'd decided that friends wasn't going to cut it. It felt insane, dating someone that you'd met the day previous, but what else could we do? We couldn't stop kissing. Holding each other. It would be torture. And the sex. Let me just say - wow.

Jake was, as I'd been told, "pussy whipped". He would grab me from behind, pressing my back into his chest. He would whisper in my ear about how much he wanted me. In the middle of a date he'd grin and lean close just to not-so-casually remind me that me and my body and my heart were all his. For the first two weeks, all he wanted to do was have sex. All day every day. He eventually calmed down a bit. Now he only wanted it every other day. At least he had enough self control to only admit it every few days though.

Usually it was when he was really stressed out or sexually frustrated or jealous that he really encouraged the whole sex thing. Most of the time he surprised me on a daily basis with how much of a romantic he was. His passion and emotion and care and awareness. He was a fantastic boyfriend.

He was understanding enough to usually defuse situations before they blew up, and I was level headed enough to not cause many high stress situations for him to defuse to begin with. We didn't argue often. When we did, it was usually an irritated or slightly heated debate, or glares thrown at each other as we talked quiet and fast, or sassy and sarcastic marks exchanged passive aggressively.

Everything seemed to sort itself out before it could get too bad, though. He never let me leave angry. He never let me go to sleep angry. In exchange, I put in the same effort with him. We texted a lot and called a lot and every once in a while, if we were lucky enough, we'd have sleepovers at my house where my parents didn't any shits let alone enough to confront me about having a boy in my room alone all night long. My mom was the worker and was either gone or asleep, as work exhausted her. My dad was a gamer and spent most - if not all - of his time either playing a game or watching videos of other people playing or doing research to play his game better.

During these nights, while he slept next to me, I realized I was truly falling for him. Most of the time if we did spoon he claimed big spoon, but I started to realize that it's only because that's what he expected of me. One night, I curled into his back, my arms wrapping around his chest as he slept. I'd had to push him a bit but once I'd gotten him on his side and latched on, he'd sighed in complete content and then shifted to stay in that position. Most nights we didn't spoon, though. He liked to look at me while he fell asleep, and see me looking back. He liked to hold my gaze and see my eyes and expression as he whispered how absolutely beautiful he thought I was.