Bigi Jackson Imagines

Three

Dylan's POV

Imagine this: you hear a knock at your door, and you open it to see that it's your crush.

*Scenario idea came by my best friend*

6/23/20

3 months and 10 days into quarantine. School was out. You longed to see your friends again, and you were out of work, waiting for a summer job. The most you'd seen was a semi friend, one of your favorite homeroom classmates, and your crush, Bigi.

You knew the main reason you had a crush on Bigi was because of the "deal" you'd made, and of course, you broke the  number one rule: Don't catch feelings. To be fair, you'd already liked him before he suggested that you should be friends with benefits. Not to mention, you were also aware that catching feelings for the person who was your "first" in that sense was very likely. You developed a crush on him less than a year before he even flirted with you for the first time.

He doesn't know you still like him. Or maybe he does, and just won't make a move, either because he doesn't like you, or because he's just as nervous as you are about these feelings. He's the braver one though... and he's not one to hide his feelings either, which tells you he probably isn't thinking about you.

Blah.

Anyways, you were home alone, and would be for the next few hours. This wasn't uncommon. Mom would be at your grandparents' house, bothering your grandmother because that's what she likes to do, and your brothers would be doing yard work for your grandfather. Because "You're a girl", they never wanted you to be worried about doing yard work, or painting the house, or cleaning. So you got to stay home alone, where you were free to sing your loudest, dance, blast music, smoke, anything.

It had always been a dream of yours to invite Bigi over so you could do what you do best, but it was a bit risky, as you never knew when your family would come home, and you were also a bit self conscious about the nature of your home and its surroundings. Meeting him at school and doing each other wherever you could was the best you were able to do.

You needed to see him again.

No way were you gonna call him though. You'd cross that bridge when you got there.

You sighed and flopped back on my bed, thinking about what else to do. You already danced off two pounds in the last half hour, so what else? That's when you heard it.

The knock at the door.

You weren't dressed to answer the door: you had on a grey leopard print tank top that used to belong to your mother when she was pregnant with you (great for swimming), and leggings. You looked like an almost-hoe.

Regardless of your attire, you ran downstairs to the door. Without looking through the peep hole, you asked in my most polite voice, "Who is it?".

And I heard his voice. Unforced masculinity with sort of a nasally sound.

"Bigi"

...Come again?

"Bigi?" You asked, opening the door. Lo and behold, he was standing there, on my porch. You swear, the Lord shined a holy light down on his body as soon as you opened the door. You looked up and down his body, noticing his black sneakers with green shoe laces that didn't match his faded blue Avengers t-shirt that he wore with his black Adidas sweatpants.  When you looked back at his face, which was framed nicely with his long, wavy, hair, he had the same look he'd given you the last time before he'd violated your walls. His large, dark eyes squinted, his small mouth in a pouted smirk... That look always gave you butterflies.