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One Day

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"I just thought there would be more." - Boyhood


Canton, 2008


He wakes up to find her naked, sprawled diagonally half on him, and half on his small double bed. It’s something that has been happening rather frequently in the past 3 months or so. They have never openly talked about it, and even though he doesn’t have a ton of experience when it comes to relationships, he knows they’re way past casual now, even if an official definition to whatever it is that they’ve been doing has not been given yet. He runs a hand through her soft hair, and sighs as she starts stirring beside him. His arm tightens around her, bringing her naked body closer to his. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent he’s quickly grown so addicted to.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his voice still a little raspy.

She hums as her thumb gently strokes his face.

“It’s almost 8,” he tells her. “We’ve got to be on the road by 9:00 the latest if you want to make it back to London for brunch.”

She gives him a disapproving groan, and lazily disentangles herself from his grip, sitting down on his bed, and turning around to face him.

“I need a shower,” she says sheepishly, “and coffee. God I need coffee.”

He thinks about the activities that have kept them awake until way later than they’ve been used to during the season. Now that they’re working on their show programs and starting to workshop ideas for the upcoming competitive season they have a somewhat slightly more relaxed schedule. They’re flying out to Korea in a few weeks to do a couple of shows, which Marina is not very enthusiastic about.

“You can take a shower first. I’ll have a pot of coffee waiting for you once you’re done,” he says, as he sits up on the bed, drops a quick kiss to the back of her neck, and looks around the room for some semi clean clothes to wear. He feels her eyes on him as she gives him a quick once over while he gets dressed.

He walks out of the bedroom with a smile he can’t seem to be able to wipe off his face, whistling some happy tune — wait, is that Hall and Oates? and a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt since he was a child. He heads to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, his thoughts going to the girl in his bedroom, the girl he’s know for over a decade, the girl he’s been half in love with for years now, the one person he knows he’ll always try to be his best for. He knows that even though they’re reluctant to define whatever it is that is going on between them, that it’s something important; something big. Maybe too big for the people they are at the moment, for the kind of career they want and all the gold that he knows is now just within their grasp.

He sighs shaking his head, as he always does when he allows himself to think about what everything he’s being doing with Tessa means, and looks around the kitchen for some fruits and veggies to make two nutritionist-approved smoothies. He is a little disappointed when all he can find is two very brown bananas and an open bag of softening apples. He walks back towards his bedroom, a little defeated, and is surprised not to hear the shower running in his ensuite. He hears Tessa, instead, talking to someone on the phone, her tone flat. He feels guilty standing there, sort of eavesdropping, his mind going to the hundreds different scenarios that could be unfolding on the other side of the line.

“Are you okay?” she asks to the mystery caller in a hushed tone.

“Yes, I promise. Just… don’t worry, okay?” she sighs. “I’ll see you soon,” she says, before hanging up the phone and whispering a shaky ‘fuck’ under her breath.

He heads back to the kitchen as quietly as possible. His partnership and friendship with Tessa might be as strong as it’s ever been, but he’s sure that particular conversation was not meant for him to hear, even if from the little snippets he managed to catch, he couldn’t really figure out much.

A few short minutes later, just as he’s pouring the freshly brewed coffee into two mugs, he sees her stepping into view, wearing an old t-shirt of his that he’s probably had since he was 13, her head up in a ponytail, and her eyes miles away.

“I thought you were going to take a shower,” he says a little confused, giving her a small, awkward smile.

She gives him an unreadable look in response, but holds his gaze as she takes off her (his) shirt and slowly walks towards him. He gulps audibly, still not completely used to her willingly baring herself for him like this, his eyes quickly glancing down her toned body, admiring the freckles painting her skin like pixie dust. She stops right in front of him, her hands coming to rest on the back of his neck, as she stands on her toes to give him a feather light kiss that makes his heart flutter.

She undresses him slowly, in a way that almost looks choreographed in its precision, her darkening eyes not leaving his, her hands, warm and slightly shaky, touching every inch of his exposed skin.

“Tess…” he says, his voice thick with desire.

She doesn't say anything back, dropping to her knees instead, looking up to meet his eyes. She takes him in her mouth, and he has to tighten the grip on the countertop behind him to steady himself. Her short fingernails scratch his thighs as his cock hits the back of her throat, and she moans. He feels lightheaded and out of breath, but he can’t bring himself to close his eyes, keeping them on her instead. He brings one of his hands to her face, his thumb softly caressing her cheek, pushing her back slightly with a gentle grip. She gives him a questioning look.

“Come up here,” he says, his voice low.

He cups her face to bring her back up and kiss her. He realises that it feels different somehow; there’s something so vulnerable yet unreadable in the way she runs her hands through his hair, in the way her eyes never leave his as he holsters her on his kitchen counter and makes her cum with his fingers, and then buries himself inside her, her light gasps filling his kitchen, sounding like the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard, as he rocks into her over and over again.

“I love you,” he whispers in her hair as he spills himself inside her. He doesn’t know if she’s heard him, but he feels her slim fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders as she buries her face in the crook of his neck, her breath hot and shallow on his skin.

They stay like that, naked in the middle of his kitchen, sweaty limbs tightly wrapped around each other, his hand lazily and soothingly combing through her soft hair.

“Are you okay?” he asks, still a little puzzled by her behaviour.

He feels her nodding her head against his shoulder, and slowly disentangles himself from the warmth of her body.

“Cold coffee?” he says pointing at the mugs resting on the table on the opposite side of his small open kitchen with a small, affectionate smile.

“Sounds good,” she says, but then shakes her head. “Actually, that sounds terrible, but I’ll take it.”

He chuckles, as he realises how domestic and intimate the moment they’re sharing is. Sipping coffee naked, sitting at his kitchen table, holding each other’s hands.

“Shower?” he asks after a few sips.

She cocks her head, her eyebrows raised, and he gives her an amused look.

“I meant, separate showers,” he specify. “Go first. I’ll… clean up,” he says looking at the counter with a smirk. “We’re already behind schedule.”

It’s past 10am when they’re finally clean, packed, and ready to go. He drags both of their small carry-on suitcases to her car (as his is currently at the shop for some much needed maintenance), and then automatically reaches to open the door on the driver’s side.

“I can drive,” she says.

“All yours, captain,” he laughs, obediently handing her the car keys, and walking around her brand new car to seat in the passenger seat.

They arrive in London way past 1PM, over an hour later than they anticipated, and as they get to the Virtues’ house he can already spot his mom’s car in the driveway. Tessa parks on the street, a few meters away, and gives him a quick kiss before opening the car door, with a sigh. He feels a shift in her behaviour as she slowly walks towards her house, keys in her hand. The white wooden door swings open before she’s even half way across the small, well kept front lawn, and Jordan launches herself towards her little sister, her hair messy, clothes wrinkled, fresh tears in her reddened eyes.

He looks at the two young women hugging tightly with a curious expression, wondering what could be the cause of Jordan’s disheveled state. He doesn’t have to wait long for his questions to find answers. He sees his mother walking towards him, an aggravated look on her face.

“I’m glad you were with her when she found out,” she tells him, a hand squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “You know how close these two girls were to their grandma. She was like a second mother to them.”

He stands there, blindsided by his mother’s words. He nods absentmindedly as she keeps talking to him, while his eyes look for Tessa’s. Almost as if she feels him stare, she lifts her head from Jordan’s shaking shoulder, and their gazes lock. There are no tears in her eyes, just a blank, emotionless expression he finds himself completely unable to read.

When has she become so good at hiding her feelings? A shiver runs down his spine, as he wonders what else she might be keeping from him.