Why Don't We Imagines

Hands (Jo)

Jonah's P.O.V.

"Come on! Do I have to go?"

Corbyn ties his shoelaces and nods. "Of course you do! My sister will be mad if you don't show up."

I groan and flop back onto the bed. Corbyn's sister is having a party tonight, and she's invited the band over. But ever since we got back in town and she introduced us to her best friend, I've only wanted to leave L.A ever since.

"I wish I never slept with her," I mumble into my pillow.

Corbyn rolls his eyes. "Look, you can't change the past. Maybe if you didn't leave her at the hotel by herself, you wouldn't be as embarrassed as you are now. But she's my sister's best friend, and she's going to be at the party, whether you like it or not. And you're my best friend, so you're also going to be there, whether you like it or not." He throws a pillow at my head. "So get up you lazy oaf, and be a man."

I give him the finger and sit myself up on the bed. "Fine. But you're buying my coffee for a week."

"Deal."

~

I start getting cold feet when we pull up at the driveway of Corbyn's old house. There's already several cars parked at the side of the street, and music is blasting from the house. The lights flash through the windows, and I can see the silhouettes of people jumping up and down to the music. One of the boys says a joke— the rest of them laugh in response. But I don't pay attention. I just cannot be here right now.

Corbyn's about to open the door when he turns to look at us. Or me, in particular. "No ditching. No hiding. No getting excessively drunk. We're just here to make Ashley happy. We'll leave when I say so, and without bringing home any girls. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Jack jokes, but we all know that in this house, Corbyn's in charge. And we do not ever piss him off, especially when it comes to his sister. He opens the door, and the boys get in happily. Then he grabs my arm and pulls me inside.

Ah, parties. Chaotic drinking, dancing, and making out. Pressurising group games and over-the-top dares. Pop music and the sweet sound of teenage yelling. What a perfect way to spend the night.

"Corbyn, you came!" Ashley envelopes her oldest brother in a hug and eyes me suspiciously. "And so did the player over here."

I grimace. "Hello to you too, Ash."

She grins. "I'm just messing with you." She hugs me too, and I place one hand carefully on her back— Corbyn nods approvingly, and I roll my eyes playfully at him.

"Anyway, knock yourselves out! I'll see you in a bit when the real fun starts." Corbyn and I nod and make our separate ways towards the other parts of the house. Usually, I'd be all up in the living room, dancing and talking with some people, but right now, I just need some quiet time.

I head to the deserted kitchen, and pour myself a drink in a red solo cup. I take a big, refreshing gulp, and then another— I can't help but break one of Corbyn's rules.

"Easy there big guy, I doubt you want to get hammered."

I freeze— that... that voice. I haven't heard it since the last time we were in L.A. Smooth, sweet, with a drop of sarcasm... she takes the cup away from my lips.

"H-hello, y/n."

"Jonah, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

She smirks, and of course my eyes are drawn to her lips, tinted red by the lipstick. They felt so soft the last time, pressed up against my mine. Her eyes seemed to shine despite the low lighting, but it only reminded me of the time I saw them sad, filled to the brim with tears. Her glasses are new— but they frame her face perfectly. She leans nonchalantly on the kitchen counter, taking a sip from my cup. I look down— of course she's wearing heels. And an incredibly short skirt. Her legs look longer, but next to me, she's a midget. Of course she'd want to look taller, after I teased her for a year about it.