read 'em and weep #5
you're acting weird. Eddie decides to do something about it.
Chapter 5
Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series
Read Ch. 4 -> Here!
Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff & angst, romantic gestures, idiots in love, communication breakthrough, shy babies working out some kinks. No mention of reader's appearance, no use of y/n.
Warnings: Discussion of Eddie's past, mentions of poverty, drug use, allusion to violence. Mentions of food & eating.
Word Count: 4.5k
sometimes I think I make him too soft in this series, but I can't help myself. are you guys tired of lovesick!eddie yet???
Eddie wakes up late on Sunday — it’s well after noon when he rises from bed with a sticky yawn in his throat and sleep in his eyes. In his rumpled t-shirt and boxers, hair a tangled mess, he pads down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Wayne is dropping scoops of pancake batter into a sizzling pan on the stove.
“Mornin’, Ed.”
“G’morning,” Eddie grunts back. He plops into one of the seats at the tiny table, rubbing his eyes.
“Sleep okay?”
“Like a rock.”
Wayne nods approvingly. “Figured as much. I could hear ya from the living room.”
Eddie scrunches his face in annoyance. “You could not.”
His uncle smiles, mirth buried in his whiskers.
“Well, you deserve a good night’s sleep. You’re always out and about these days.”
Wayne flips the last pancake, lets it cook, then adds it to the stack he’s already piled up. He sets the plate of cakes and two cups of coffee onto the table, and takes a seat across from his nephew.
They begin to eat in silence. That’s not unusual, as Eddie has a tendency to inhale his food — the boy’s got a garbage disposal for a stomach — but he’s not scarfing it down the way he normally does. Instead, he pushes his breakfast around his plate in between taking small bites, looking moody.
Wayne pauses in between sips of coffee, #1 Uncle mug hovering halfway to his lips.
“Everything okay?”
“Uh…I think so. Yeah.”
Wayne raises an eyebrow skeptically at him. “You sound like you’re not sure.”
Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat, frowning at his pancakes.
He doesn’t want to push, lest Eddie shut him down completely, but Wayne’s curious. Sue him.
“Somethin’ happen with your girl last night?”
Eddie blushes and sits back in his seat, voice pained. “Wayne —”
“We don’t have to get all touchy-feely. It’s just a question,” he tells him sternly. “And believe it or not, kiddo, I have known a woman or two in my lifetime. I can give you advice if you need it, y’know. I’m not a eunuch.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Gross, man.”
Wayne laughs, a gruff chuckle that reverberates around the small kitchen. Eddie smiles in spite of himself.
“So what’s the problem?”
Eddie drums a nervous rhythm against the table with his fingers, naked without their bulky rings. “I don’t know, really. She was just kinda weird yesterday.” He pauses for a moment, searching for the right word. “Distant.”
Wayne listens intently, fist tucked under his chin. “Distant how?”
Eddie fills his cheeks with air, and lets it out in a long, slow exhale. “Well, she was fine in the morning, but last night she was really quiet. Especially when we were alone, which I don’t understand.” If you’d been nervous to spend time with his friends, then he’d get it, but you seemed fine at Benny’s. It was before and after, when you were by yourselves, which strikes him as odd.
He gestures helplessly with his hands, words flowing faster now, confusion leaking into every syllable. “She’s usually really excited when she sees me. All happy and stuff, y’know? And we always talk a lot, but she hardly said a word to me. And at first I thought she just had a tough day at work, but then —” Eddie stops abruptly, clamping his mouth shut. I didn’t get hardly any kisses, he finishes miserably in his head.
Rather than verbalize the thought for Wayne, he just throws his arms up, letting his flailing limbs speak for themselves.
Wayne gives him a solemn nod, determined to keep his expression neutral. If he reacts too strongly either way, then Eddie might not feel so inclined to discuss his love life with him again. Ever the sensible one, he asks, “Did she have a tough day at work?”
Eddie looks sheepish. “That’s what she said,” he admits reluctantly.
“But you don’t believe her?”
Eddie’s bottom lip juts out petulantly. “It just didn’t feel like she wanted to be around me.” His face falls, and his voice becomes softer, the hurt more pronounced. “Like she couldn’t wait to get away.”
Wayne heaves a sigh, and thinks it over. “Personally, I think you’re readin’ too much into it,” he finally responds. “If she tells you she had a hard day, then she probably did.” He rubs his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “Although, you might be onto something there….”
Eddie’s face crinkles in despair, mouth falling open.
“Now, hang on,” Wayne adds hastily, seeing his kicked-puppy look. “I just mean to say, that you’ve been spendin’ an awful lot of time together, right? And you haven’t really known each other that long, but you’ve hardly gone a day this summer without seeing her. Maybe she’s runnin’ out of things to say to you,” he jokes.
Eddie clicks his tongue in distaste. “C’mon,” he complains.
“She might just need a little space, is all I’m sayin’.” The older man shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you, or that she doesn’t wanna be around you. Just give her some breathing room. And then, in a few days, if you still feel like things are off, talk to her about it.”
Eddie squints at him. “Can I just do that?”
Wayne shakes his head in disbelief. “Boy, I swear,” he mumbles.
After breakfast, Eddie mulls over what his uncle told him. Now, he’s the first to admit that he doesn’t really know how to be a boyfriend, but goddamn it, he’s trying.
Is that his problem? Is he trying too hard?
Okay, fine, he’s a bit of a smother. But it’s difficult for him not to be; he’s spent far too long navigating life in this thankless town alone. Now that he’s finally found you, he can scarcely bring himself to let go, even for a second.
“Breathing room,” he mutters to himself. Fine. No biggie. He can deal with that.
For the next few days, Eddie resists the temptation to call you first, or visit you unannounced at work, which is a task that would be much easier to accomplish if you were giving him literally anything in return.
But you haven’t called. Not for an evening chat, which was customary on days he didn’t stop by the library. Not to check up on him, not to find out where he’s been, or why he hasn’t visited…it’s like nothing is out of the ordinary.
Evidently, you’re not missing him at all.
The phone has only rung twice so far this week. Once it was Henderson, and the other one was a telemarketer that he promptly hung up on. His ego took a huge hit every time he came home and asked, “Any calls for me?” and had to see Wayne shake his head no.
Disappointed, and overwhelmed by a creeping sense of dread, Eddie concludes that your radio silence could mean one of two things: either you just don’t feel the need to be around him as much as he does you, or he did something to upset you.
He can’t figure out which is worse. The internal debate plagues him morning and night as the days keep rolling by.
Up until now, you haven’t seemed to mind his clinginess. If anything you were nearly always overjoyed to see him — so much so that it startled him, and he often found himself looking back over his shoulder, to see if there was someone else standing behind him that you were smiling at instead. Has the novelty of Eddie Munson worn off so quickly? It didn’t seem like you, so kind and attentive towards him, but who was he to expect you to want to be with him twenty-four/seven?
Unless it was something else entirely, something he had done that didn’t sit right with you, that was causing this. He tries to think of what he could possibly said or did that may have offended you, but he keeps coming up empty.
And then, in the midst of his warring thoughts, inspiration strikes.
“Uhhh…hey, Wayne?”
Wayne calls back from his spot on the couch, where he’s immersed in the latest episode of The Joy of Painting. “Yeah?”
Eddie shuffles into the living room, lips pursed. He tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. “Would it be…ill-advised…to show up unannounced at her house with a grand romantic gesture?”
Wayne stares at him. “You know I said space, right?”
Eddie starts packing up a brown paper grocery bag with everything he thinks he’ll need, while Wayne hovers in the kitchen, watching him with his arms crossed. He’s simultaneously disapproving and amused.
“So you’re just gonna ignore my advice, huh?”
“Wayne,” Eddie sighs, “I appreciate your sage words of wisdom, I really do. But unfortunately, I am not a patient man. I need resolution now, or else I’ll die.” He pulls out another snack from a cupboard and stows it away in the bag, alongside the sandwiches he made and some other morsels scrounged up from the kitchen. He’ll get your favorite drink, too, when he stops for flowers at the gas station —
“You? Impatient? Naw.”
“Ha, ha,” Eddie replies sarcastically.
Wayne shakes his head. “I sure hope this works out for you.”
Eddie hesitates. “I mean….” Suddenly insecure, he looks over at Wayne, anguished expression on his face. “Is it a completely horrible idea?”
Wayne softens immediately, and silently curses himself for discouraging him. “No. No, I don’t mean that. I’m actually…well, I’m mighty proud to see you treatin’ a lady so well.” Eddie turns scarlet, grimacing at the praise, and Wayne continues. “I’m just worried you might overwhelm her, with…how well you’re treatin’ her.”
Eddie rakes a hand through his hair. “I just…don’t like the way things feel right now. And I don’t wanna make the mistake of ignoring it, hoping it’ll go away, and have things get worse.”
There’s a pang in Wayne’s heart. He really is a good kid, isn’t he? “Aw, hell, Ed. If this feels like it’s the right thing for you to do, then I say do it.”
When Eddie finally arrives at your house, the nerves have really kicked in. He understands that this is kind of a gamble, but subtlety has never been his forte. Slinging his acoustic guitar over his back, clutching the grocery bag in one fist and a small bouquet of dyed carnations in the other, he manages to rap lightly on the front door without dropping anything.
Eddie holds his breath as the seconds tick by, heart thumping in his chest.
Finally, the door swings open slowly, revealing your figure and Eddie immediately feels warm, in spite of the cool air that seeps out from the house. You look startled to see him, even more so when your eyes drop down to the flowers in his hand, mouth popping open in surprise.
“Hi,” he greets you nervously. “Uh, I hope it’s okay that I’m here, I-I know I didn’t call you or anything first. But, um, it’s a nice day out, so I thought we could have a picnic?” It comes out like a question. He jostles the grocery bag, and you can hear the contents shift around inside. “If you’re not busy or anything. And these, um, are for you.” He thrusts the flowers forward, palm sweating against their plastic wrapping.
You stand there in silence, not saying or taking anything, just gaping at him. Eddie’s stomach drops. And he’s totally unprepared for what happens next.
Your face crumples, and you burst into tears.
“Oh, Jesus.” Eddie sets everything down onto the ground and lurches forward, arms outstretched to touch you, but he hesitates before making contact, his hands fluttering around your figure uncertainly. “I — sweetheart — what?” he stutters, entirely out of his element.
“Sorry!” you sob, clapping your hands over your mouth. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t apologize,” he says automatically, completely bewildered. His hands finally come down to rest on your shoulders, and he leans closer to you, like maybe proximity will cure whatever this is. “Is something wrong?” He winces, and shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s stupid — what’s wrong?”
You sniffle in response, fat tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.
Watching you tremble with emotion breaks his heart, and it’s stronger than his panic at being unexpectedly confronted by a crying woman. “Oh, baby,” he says tenderly, wrapping his arms around you fully and pulling you in close. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
“Sorry,” you repeat in a watery voice, slightly muffled by you pressing your face into his shirt. “You’re just…you’re so sweet, Eddie. That’s all.”
“You don’t have to say sorry for crying,” he says, chuckling breathlessly. “Although I was kind of aiming for a smile with all this, not tears.” He pats your back gently, and moves his lips to your ear. “It’s been a while. I was missing you.”
You shudder. “I missed you, too.” You let out a choked laugh, and pull back a little, dabbing at your eyes. You audibly try and swallow the lump in your throat. “This isn’t how I usually greet company, I promise.”
In the small, sunny backyard, Eddie lays out a faded gingham tablecloth onto the grass. It’s tattered at the edges and bears quite a number of stubborn stains, maybe not great for their tiny kitchen anymore, but perfect for an outdoor blanket. While he sets up his little surprise date, doling out food and plates and napkins, he steals glances at you, visible through the kitchen window, where you’re arranging your new flowers in a vase. When you come back outside to join him, he doesn’t miss the way you swipe at your eye one last time, trying to rid yourself of the final remnants of your outburst.
He offers you a soft smile, and pats the spot on the ground next to him.
You sink onto the blanket with a sigh, looking tired but pleased to see him nonetheless. And there’s a trace of something else in your eyes, some unknown emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on. You reach gingerly for the sandwich he packed for you — your favorite, you note right away — but Eddie simply watches, wondering if he has to ask or if he should wait for you to explain.
“So, how’re things?” you ask innocently, and take a small bite.
Eddie raises his eyebrows, but he keeps his tone light. “Well, I’m a little concerned, naturally. We gonna talk about what just happened back there?”
You chew slowly, stalling. He waits patiently.
“I wasn’t expecting all this,” you finally say, gesturing around at the spread before you. “It’s…it’s really, really nice of you,” your voice breaks again on the last word, but if you’re threatened by another wave of tears, you don’t succumb.
Eddie shrugs modestly, but remains curious. “It’s no big thing. Just wanted to surprise you,” he says, and hesitates before continuing. “I, uh, haven’t heard from you in a while, so I wasn’t sure if…maybe you were upset with me, or something, I dunno. Like, if I did something wrong.”
Abruptly, you fix your gaze on your lap, but not before Eddie sees them widen in alarm.
He peers closer at you. “Were you upset with me?”
Your blanche. “God, I’m such an asshole,” you mumble, throat tightening again.
Eddie’s thoroughly confused now, and he chuckles uncertainly. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m a little lost here. Why are you calling yourself an asshole?” The idea is absurd; it’s hard for him to even fathom.
You wring your hands nervously, unable to make yourself look at him. “Eddie, I — I’m sorry. That I haven’t been reaching out to you lately.” You struggle with what to say, feeling ashamed, but you force yourself to continue. “But…Marissa — from work, y’know? — she…she told me some stuff about you.”
Eddie’s insides turn to ice.
“Stupid, gossipy stuff,” the words come out in a rush now, like you’re desperate to get the truth out and over with, “most of which I didn’t even really believe, anyway, but I guess I couldn’t help feeling…anxious, after it happened? And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I just…didn’t. I’m so sorry.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, frustrated at your own actions. “And then you come here today with an entire picnic, and flowers, and your guitar, and I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet. I can’t believe myself.”
Eddie falls silent for a moment, his dark eyes big and sad. It’s not what he was expecting, though he supposes he should have been anticipating something like this happening eventually. Gossip about him had improved — or affected him less, at least — when he finished school, but there were still whispers about him amongst the townies, he knew.
“What did she tell you?” he asks dully. “That I’m the spawn of Satan?”
A knot twists in your stomach. “Something like that. Of course I know that’s bullshit.”
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Oh, yeah? What did she tell you that was so impressive, then?” When you flinch at his words, he cringes inwardly at his own snarkiness, and reminds himself who he’s talking to.
You scratch at a dark spot on the blanket, fidgeting under his stare. “She — she said that you were involved with someone named Chrissy, and the way she mentioned it really freaked me out.”
Upon hearing her name, Eddie’s eyes bulge with panic. Oh shit, oh shit. Low blow from Marissa. Because unlike the far-fetched devil worship accusations, there’s some substance to that rumor, no matter how convoluted the truth became. He starts to mentally scramble for a way to explain, but you continue on before he can speak.
“I guess I just couldn’t stand the thought of you having another girlfriend,” you admit guiltily. “I didn’t wanna find out, because I didn’t think I could take it, if I knew you were seeing someone else.”
That catches him off guard. “Oh, you —” Eddie fumbles with his words, “you thought that I was…dating her?”
You frown. “Well, yeah. When someone tells you ‘ask him about so-and-so’ in that kind of tone, that’s generally what comes to mind.”
Eddie blinks, then groans, and flings himself back on the blanket. He drapes one arm over his eyes, hiding the world from view. He heaves a great sigh. “Nothing like that ever happened between Chrissy and I,” he says quietly. “Never dated, never hooked up. Never even so much as kissed.”
“Oh.” You process this, wondering at her significance. “Who is she, then?”
“Just a girl in town,” he mutters. “We went to high school together.” He sighs resignedly again, and pulls his arm up, just enough so he can peek at you. “Listen, Wayne and I, we don’t have a whole lot to our names. In case that wasn’t obvious.” He snorts humorlessly. “I…used to deal, for a bit of extra cash. Help out with the rent and stuff. Did Marissa tell you that, too?”
“She did,” you affirm. “But Eddie, I don’t care about that either, I swear.”
He moves on without acknowledging your remark. “Chrissy was a cheerleader. Queen of Hawkins High, basically. And she was looking to buy one day, so we met up after school. I was just gonna sell her some pot, but she asked me if I had anything, ah, stronger.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “I didn’t usually sell harder shit to other students, but I had some Special K laying around, for my own…personal use.” He doesn’t dare look up again to see your reaction to this tidbit. “And I sold it to her…and then she disappeared.”
You stare at him. “She…disappeared?”
Eddie sits back up and nods, face hardening. “For a few days, anyway. Ran away. Her family’s got a good name, and a lot of money, but that doesn’t always make for a good home life, y’know? I don’t know what was going on with her, exactly, but she wasn’t okay. And when she skipped town, everyone pointed their fingers at me.”
He doesn’t need to elaborate; the implication is clear. Still, you ask, “What, they thought that you…did something to her?”
“Yeah,” he deadpans, staring off into the distance. “All but brought out the pitchforks and torches.”
Indignance on his behalf hits you like a truck. “Teenagers run away all the time!”
Eddie rubs his face in distress. “Yeah, they do, but when Hawkins’ golden girl is last seen entering the town freak’s trailer to buy ketamine, people tend to jump to conclusions.”
A wave of sadness washes over you, as you try to picture it in your head: they truly believed that sweet, doting Eddie was capable of hurting a young girl like that?
Eddie, who played fantasy games with kids six years his junior simply because they asked him to, and fed the strays in the trailer park, and spent many a Sunday making banana bread with his uncle? Who he chose to live with instead of moving out, because he loved him and wanted to be close in case he needed him? Was it even possible, for people to be so blind?
The very thought of it makes you sick. “That’s horrible….”
“S’okay,” he mumbles. “She came back home eventually. A little worse for wear, I heard, but she was fine. Told everyone that I had nothing to do with her leaving, or whatever happened while she was gone. But,” he shrugs, “people will believe what they wanna believe. The Munson reputation precedes me.”
You reach for his warm hand, and clasp it in yours, savoring the feel of his calloused palm against your own.
He casts you a desperate glance. “I swear I never did anything to her,” he whispers.
Your chest aches for him, and you squeeze his hand. “Of course you didn’t.”
His breathing hitches. “I guess it’s obvious,” he says, voice trembling slightly, “that there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t, um, told you about yet. And to be honest, I don’t think I’m ready to tell you all of it right now, either. But I will, someday.”
There it is. The notion that Eddie wants to be in your life long-term, and that he wants you to be in his, finally spoken.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to,” you reassure him quietly. “It won’t change how I feel about you, anyway. I think you’re really wonderful. I-I like you so much, Eddie.”
A silence falls over the two of you. Eddie watches the bumblebees fly lazily over the white clover dotting the lawn. You try to think of something else to say, something you can tell him that’ll make the pain go away, erase the hurt that this town has caused him. You suspect that this incident with Chrissy is just the tip of the iceberg that is Eddie’s trauma — for how long was he treated like this by those around him, and how harshly?
Before you can come up with the right words to soothe him, Eddie speaks again, his voice a little stronger. “So you, uh…heard that I was a drug-dealing cult leader, but got upset because you thought I was seeing someone else?”
At last, some brevity. You make eye contact across the blanket, and you’re relieved to see the corners of his lips have turned up into a tiny smile.
Heat blooms in your cheeks as you nod. “I did, yeah.”
He attempts husky laugh, though he still looks weary. “Damn. You got it bad, huh?”
You shrug. “What can I say? You’re a catch, Munson. I don’t think I feel like sharing.”
He hums softly, and he relaxes a little, body sagging as he finally releases some of the tension he’s been holding onto all this time. “Sorry for snapping at you,” he offers needlessly, biting at his thumbnail.
You dismiss it immediately. “Don’t apologize —”
“Nah, I get it. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if the cult rumors or the dealing really did bother you, even. I mean, that’s some pretty jarring intel to hear from your boss about the guy you’re dating. They’re not really things people tend to look for in a partner.”
You shake your head. “I should’ve talked to you about it as soon as it happened. But it just felt so…crass to come right out and start interrogating you.” You scoot closer to him on the blanket. “You have to believe me, Eddie, I don’t care about what anyone else has to say. I feel like I know you,” you pause, and reach out with your free hand to cup his cheek, “even if I’m a little fuzzy on the details right now.”
He sucks in a quick breath, closing his eyes, and rests his face against your palm. “I have to warn you,” he says, “that if we’re together, and people know about it, then this might not be the last time someone tries to talk to you about me. And I’m asking you to — to trust that I’m not what they say I am.”
“I do,” you promise. “I trust you.”
You lean in and press a soft, quick kiss to his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, and chuckles weakly. Although the reassurance was needed, he’s feeling all too vulnerable for his liking, so he changes the subject. “You know, while we’re hashing things out here, can I ask you an unrelated question?”
You smile indulgently. “Shoot.”
“So, I guess we know now that this wasn’t really why, but Wayne told me that the reason you weren’t talking to me is because I’m up your ass all the time, and that I need to give you more space. That’s why I didn’t come sooner. I know I kind of smother you, and I was worried that maybe, maybe you needed a break from me, or something?”
Rubbing your thumb against his cheekbone, you whisper, “Oh, gosh no. You’re like…my favorite person, Eddie.” You nod shyly, as though affirming it to yourself for the first time. “Yeah. You’re the person I want to be around the most, um, at any given moment.”
Eddie blushes, and something inside of him shifts at those words, making him feel impossibly soft. “Me too,” he returns.
Your turn. “And I have a question for you, too.”
“Shoot,” he echoes.
“Were you gonna play me something on that?” You gesture to his guitar, forgotten on the grass behind him.
Eddie lets out another laugh, the most carefree one he’s uttered today. “I was. Sorry, I forgot.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine you playing acoustic music. I’m intrigued.”
Eddie grasps the neck of the guitar with one hand, and drags the instrument into his lap, situating himself into a playing position. “You’d be shocked, sweetheart. I can make just about anything sound metal.”
Your eyes sparkle wickedly. “Are you gonna play me some Joni Mitchell?”
Eddie purses his lips. “No, I was thinking KISS. It, uh, translates pretty well, actually.”
You cross your legs on the blanket, rest your elbow on your knee and tuck your hand under your chin — giving him your full attention.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s hear it!”
thank you for reading!! <3
taglist: @eddiesgirlforever @eds6ngel @sheisahauntedhouse @lokis-tardis-companion19 @teary-eyed-egg @whenshelanded @nanaminswhore @witchwolflea @destinationwanderlust @kores-mun-son-n-more @clairesjointshurt @fishwithtitz @wickedscorpio22 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @lexr86 @cultish-corner
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Nadie Más Que Tú
I wanted to try writing something, I love reading everyone’s beautiful work on here so I thought I'd write my own for funsies.
Just to preface I've never actually written anything before so I'm sorry if it's straight booty cheeks and doesn't make a whole lotta sense.
general warnings/cw: 18+ pls no minors ty, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/going to a bar, eventual smut. lmk if I’ve forgotten anything!
♡o .✿ฺ ✿ฺ ♡o.✿ฺ。✿ฺ♡o.✿ฺ。✿ฺ♡o。.✿ฺ。ฺ ♡
You’ve been casually dating for six months now yet you only ever really see him on weekends and even that’s rare, hell you hadn’t even been intimate with the guy. But today was different. He didn’t have work due to a company dinner he was taking you to. So he decided to take you to the mall. Like a date?
“Are you sure you don’t want anything? I already told you it’s fine if you use my card.” Miguel said, trying to persuade you into buying something.
“I’m fine, I don’t need anything.”
This was true, what more could you want? You have a closet full of clothes and literally anything else you could want thanks to him.
“They have a boutique here, we could buy you a dress for tonight’s dinner.” He suggested.
It was like he was trying to get you to spend his money. Kinda cute honestly.
“Mm.. I guess?” You said a bit hesitant, still not wanting to spend his money.
You head over to the boutique and you start trying on different dresses with the help of one of the workers. Though none of the dresses seemed to be “the one”.
“We just got a beautiful dress shipped in if you want to try that one on.” The worker said.
“Let’s see it!” You said enthusiastically.
The worker goes into the back and brings out a gorgeous burgundy dress. It was long, had intricate lace backing, and a thigh high slit. You excitedly get into the changing room and put it on.
You walk out of the dressing room, it fits perfectly. The fabric hugs your curves in just the right ways, not to mention the color and how well it compliments your skin.
“You like it?” You give Miguel a little twirl to show it off and you SWEAR you saw him blush a little.
He pauses for a second, like he’s lost in a train of thought before he speaks. “It looks fine.” Is all he says though. A little disappointing of a response but.. at least he liked it?
“I’ll take it..!” You say with a smile.
You and Miguel walk out of the boutique, new dress in hand. You have a huge smile on your face.
“Thank you!” you say giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
“It’s no problem.” He says with a faint smile.
He then wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked back to his car to leave and get ready at his place for dinner. Weird.. he isn’t usually very affectionate or the type to touch you in public…
— — —
About 30 minutes before dinner you were about done getting ready, putting on your new dress and some other accessories.
As you’re getting ready you just can’t shake off the thought of Miguel putting his arm around you like that, it makes your heart flutter a bit just thinking about it. What did it mean-
Your thoughts were interrupted by Miguel’s voice.
“You ready?”
He was still putting on his tie when he walked in the room.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Are we leaving now?” You looked up at him.
He kinda just stands in the doorway for a second, staring…
“Ah, yeah. Let’s go.” He cleared his throat and walked out.
Weird.. what was that about… he’s been like this ever since you left the boutique...
— — —
Dinner was pretty normal. If normal was horribly boring. All they were doing was talking about business stuff that you had absolutely no interest in. You were bored out of your mind.
Eventually the conversation shifts in a different direction. “So, how did you two meet?” One of Miguel’s co-workers asks. “We had no idea Miguel had a girlfriend.” Another spoke up.
You were a little caught off guard by the question and the response it got from the other co-worker… How did you guys meet..
“We met through a mutual friend.” You replied, sheepishly picking up your drink and taking a sip.
That was a lie. You actually met at a bar, nothing too crazy but it doesn’t sound very professional and you didn’t wanna embarrass Miguel.
You were down at a bar late at night with some of your girlfriends when you spotted a cutie all by himself. He looked a little older, just your type. With a little “Be right back!” you made your way over to him and started some small talk.
“This seat taken?”
“Depends who’s asking.”
Nonchalant type. I can work with that.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
You sit down and scoot yourself closer to him.
“What’s that?” You say pointing at his drink
“Whiskey.”
“Ugh, so boring..”
You picked up his drink and were about to take a sip when he gently grabbed it back.
“That’s unsanitary.” He gave a fake scowl.
“You almost didn't stop me.” You smile up at him proudly.
He scoffed.
“You got insta?”
“Excuse me?”
You rolled your eyes
“I thought you were older but I didn’t think you were that old.” You smirked. Sliding your already unlocked phone over to him.
He looked at you hesitantly before taking your phone and typing something in. He set your phone down before getting up and walking away without another word. Rude. With a giddy smile you pick up your phone and read.
don’t have one
That bastard…
— — —
“She’s just as amazing as the day we met.” Miguel chimed in.
“That’s really sweet!” The co-worker cooed.
You looked up at Miguel and smiled. He then rested one of his hands on your thigh, causing a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. He was doing it again.. so oddly affectionate.
The rest of the evening went smoothly. However, you still couldn’t shake off that weird feeling. Up until this point things with Miguel had never been this way. You treated each other like close friends most of the time.
The time to leave eventually rolled around and you both headed home, you could feel a strange tension in the car. You kept looking over at him but he looked fine.
I’m probably just tired..
Once home you noticed his demeanor had changed, he was acting a little strange but you tried to think nothing of it, he was probably just tired too.
You headed to his bedroom with him. As you went to close the door you turned around to find Miguel was standing in front of you, arms crossed.
“What are you doing..?” You ask fully confused on why he was standing there like that.
Miguel stepped closer to you, pushing you against the door. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, faster than you ever thought possible. He was much bigger than you, and that was very clear in this moment.
He leaned his head down close to your ear.
“You have no idea how fucking good you look in that dress.” Miguel whispered the vibration of his voice going straight to your core.
You could practically see the lust in his eyes.
“I thought about doing this in the dressing room at the boutique.” He said now running his hand down your curves.
You laughed nervously, squirming a bit. This has to be a joke… right?
“Miguel–” You tried to speak.
He turned you around on the door pressing himself against you again, you could feel his hard-on against your ass. Nope, definitely not a joke.
“How much did you have to drink?” You asked nervously as he pressed kisses on the back of your neck.
“I didn’t drink tonight.” He replied.
He then wrapped his arms around your waist resting his head on your shoulder.
“I just want you, I’ve wanted you..” He whispered into the shell of your ear, the words coming out of his mouth like honey. You could feel the wetness pool in your panties at the sound.
Fuck. He’s so hot. Why is he so hot? What is happening?!
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