Until You (Until #1)

by Briar Prescott

When I look up, I find Steph’s eyes on me. For the first time ever, when he looks at me, all I can see is disappointment. He shakes his head. “You fucking asshole,” he says.

“What do you think’s going to happen if you keep sitting out here?” I finally ask when the silence gets so loud my ears start to hurt.

“Best-case scenario… You’ll give me another chance. You’ll let me be in your life. You’ll let me cook for you because you’re not that great at it, and we need to eat. And you’ll move into my place, and we’ll make a home. We’ll make each other laugh, and we’ll build blanket forts together and watch shitty movies in them. You’ll let me love you, and you’ll love me back.”

“I’ll be moving out soon. This is Blair’s friend’s apartment. He’ll be coming back from his tour and will want his place back.” “Then I’ll die in some other hallway, somewhere else in the city,” Blake says with a shrug. “And some other neighbors will hate you.”

“What if I don’t tell you where I’m going?” “I’m not sure it helps my case, but finding your location is the least of my worries,” he says. It sounds like a joke, but I know it’s not.

“I won’t hurt you again,” Blake says. “You can’t promise that.” “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know,” I whisper.

“What will make you stop?” I ask. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t do this.” “What will make you stop?” I repeat. I have to wait an eternity for the answer. “If you ask me to stop,” he eventually says. Another eternity passes. “Then I’m asking you to stop.”

“He actually told you all of that?” I roll my eyes. “No, I made it up just now.”

Do you know what characterizes all survivors, Jude?” I shake my head. “They put themselves first,” she says. “They put themselves first because they have to. Do that long enough, it becomes a habit.”

“Do you regret it?” He doesn’t look stumped. More like he’s been waiting for that question for years now. “I assume by ‘it’ you mean you? Do I regret you?” I nod. “No,” he says. Simple as that. No hesitation.

“You’re supposed to start with small gifts so you have something to work up to.” One foot. “Now, if you happen to fuck up, what’re you gonna do? Get me a fucking helicopter?” “Lucky for me, hacking pays pretty well,” he says. “Helicopter-well?”

Somewhere between the kisses, we stumble to the bed and lose the clothes, and then it’s truly just us. Bodies moving and hearts beating. Blake’s hands in my hair, pulling and tugging. His lips on my chest and my solar plexus and my abdomen and my right thigh. His voice in my ear telling me words I never knew I needed to hear. All variations of “love” and “beautiful” and “forever,” and I take them and echo them right back.

“You know how it’s always considered super romantic when people are all, ‘I can’t live without you!’” Blake’s lips twitch, and he nods. “I have a feeling you have thoughts.” “Naturally.

“That’s the most romantic thing anybody’s ever said to me.” “I have a way with words.” “That you do.”

“It’s just me here, so you’re allowed to admit you missed me,” I say.

“I feel like I should file a complaint. When you first forced me to like you, I wasn’t that worried. I figured the feelings would cool down eventually, I’d start hating the way you chew or breathe, and everything would go back to normal. But it’s only getting worse.”

“The sexy coupons with dirty stuff you were going to do to me.” “You didn’t use a single one of those,” he protests. “I would’ve, but you did all those dirty things to me for free. Next time play hard to get, and I’ll whip them out in a snap.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure you’re not proposing?” He winces and nods. “Then you have to explain the ring with a few more words.”

“I’d rather not because it makes me sound like an asshole.” “Lucky for you, I love you even if you are an asshole.”

And, correct me if I’ve completely misunderstood you over the last ten years, but you don’t give a crap about getting married either.” “I mean, I’d do it if that was what you wanted,” I say. “Right. Well, I don’t.” “Then what’s with the ring?” “It’ll remind you of me when I’m not around?”

“So this ring is just a really fancy way of pissing on me,” I conclude with a grin.

“Want me to tattoo ‘Jude’s Property’ on my ass?” I ask. “This isn’t—” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, would you?”

“It’s not about you. I know you. I trust you. I just want to punch everyone who flirts with you in the face, and I’m afraid one day I’m actually going to do it. This ring will weed out the decent people who’ll honor the sanctity of our fake marriage, so if I do end up punching somebody, I won’t have to feel bad because they’re a shitty human being to begin with.”

“Jealousy also looks hot on you.” He rolls his eyes. “You think everything looks hot on me.” “I know. I’m a gentleman of great taste.

Buy me a ring if you want to. Brand me like cattle.”

The other day at work when I was finishing up, one of the nurses was serenaded and there were a lot of flowers and chocolate hearts and everything involved. And the other nurses were all, ‘they’ve been together for fifteen years, and he still does things like this for her.’” “Good for them. Sounds like my personal nightmare.”