This is another chapter that isn't really plotty or emotional at all. We won't have any more of these for a while, so if this is your thing, cherish it, and if not, no need to worry. Shit's gonna start going down soon. This is stayonbrand, come on now.

This chapter is probably messy bc I'm not editing twice fuck it I've got too stories to update (see that wrong form of two? Yeah I should fix it but I'm gonna leave it there so you know how I'm doing right now)

neta catch the reference

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We stayed in bed like that for a while. It was quiet overall, but occasionally conversation took a momentary hold -- nothing deep, just basic chatter about this or that, neither here nor there. Jamie's fingers walked up and down my abdomen whenever he started talking, and from time to time he would kiss my shoulder or my collar or my neck -- I wasn't sure if it was gratitude or affection, but each time made me smile nonetheless.

     Nearly an hour had passed when we found out we weren't alone. Out from under the bed crawled Nemo, and after peering curiously for a moment at the fallen textbook, he hopped onto the covers and crawled onto Jamie's chest, where he pawed at Jamie's shirt for a few seconds before curling into a furry orange ball. Jamie's breathing slowed in an attempt to control the rise and fall of his chest and keep Nemo from leaving.

     "Sorry you had to witness all of that earlier," he murmured, scratching underneath the kitten's chin and earning a few quiet purrs. "I'm a hot mess, don't mind me."

     He seemed okay. At least momentarily. I wasn't sure he was ever really okay.

    "I love this city," he said absentmindedly. "It's busy. There's a lot to grab your attention. But it's not too crazy. This is the kind of place where I'd like to live . . ."

    I could tell he would have continued, but he cut himself short. There was an unspoken if in the empty space at the end of his sentence. If it wasn't for . . .

     "I'll bring you back here sometime," I mused, drumming my fingers against his hip. "Take you back to that ridiculously overpriced museum."

     Jamie tilted his head to look up at me. I wasn't sure if the curve of his lips counted as a smile, but it was something. "Yeah?"

     "'Course," I said. "This was fun. And I think Stevie's kind of in love with you, anyways, so I'm not sure you have a choice."

     Jamie hummed an almost-laugh. "I love her, too. We can go find stray cats together," he said, petting Nemo's head gently.

     He was joking, but I could easily picture that happening in my mind, and the image made me chuckle. I wouldn't pretend I didn't love that Stevie and Jamie got along.

     "I think . . . she kind of gets me, too," Jamie thought aloud. "She's really understanding. She's like you."

     "I'm not that understanding."

     Jamie rolled his eyes. "Take the fucking compliment, dude."

      I snorted. "Dude?" I mocked, raising my eyebrows teasingly, and Jamie laughed; it actually reached his eyes this time, if only beneath a stubborn fog. "Dude. Yeah, okay, thanks, bro."

      "Fuck you, I'm not calling you, like, babe," he pushed at my cheek, turning my face away from his.

       "Aw, I'm heartbroken," I cooed. "C'mon, baby."

      "Absolutely not."

       "You're hurting me, honey."

       Jamie mocked a gagging noise.

      "Just once, sweetheart?"

       "I think I'd rather use a cactus as a butt-plug."

       "Kinky," I smirked, which of course gave me an even better idea. "Would it be easier to get you to call me daddy?"

     Jamie choked so violently Nemo jumped off of his chest to scurry back under the bed, and I burst out laughing.

     I dragged Jamie out of bed eventually to make him eat something. I showed him how to make guacamole -- thanks, Antoni -- and we gorged on Stevie's entire bag of Tostitos, which I was sure she'd murder me for later, but my hungry ass didn't care. We sat across from each other on the couch, stuffing our faces disgustingly (because who gives a fuck?) while he taught me French profanities. His mood seemed to improve by the minute, until I could almost forget how he'd been earlier.

     But it was always in the back of my mind.

    I scoured through Stevie's things like the wonderful brother I was and found an old photo album, which Jamie and I flipped through for the better part of an hour. It was unbelievably embarrassing but I didn't mind, because Jamie laughed himself to tears at a close-up picture of me looking absolutely lost and moderately high (I swear I wasn't) at my Confirmation.

     We played Uno, ate food, made shitty origami out of tissue paper that Stevie had laying around since Christmas, ate food some more, took a shower (together), ate even more food, and I wasn't sure how, but we ended up watching Spongebob for nearly three hours.

     I hadn't even noticed day turning into night, but when I got a call from Stevie, the sky outside was dark and the time on my phone was nearly eleven. Jamie turned the phone on speaker once I'd answered.

    "Hey bub."

     Jamie snorted, and I smacked him lightly upside the head.

      "Hey, Stevie."

      "You coming tonight? Remember, I totally get it if --"

      "We're coming," Jamie said loudly. I turned to him in surprise.

      "We are?"

      "Yeah," he scooted closer to me on the couch and took my hands. "We should. It'll be fun." He must've seen my hesitation, because he said, "I don't even wanna get super drunk or high or anything tonight. I just wanna dance."

     And I really couldn't argue with that, so ten minutes later we were walking to a place called Supernova. From outside, it didn't seem like much. The moment we stepped in, though, I understood the excitement.

  "Wow," Jamie nodded at his surroundings, his hand laced in mine. "This is epic."

     The place reminded me a lot of Vagabonds. It was just as big yet just as compact, just as crowded and just as loud. There was barely room to breathe, but the stifling heat was oddly enticing -- challenging any newcomer to try their hand at a fight for self-control, inviting them to inevitably lose. It was a building erected on foundations of lust -- without that, it would crash in a boring heap. It was rowdy and it was dirty and it was fascinating and it was intimidating. It was the type of place you went to looking for trouble.

      That was it. Supernova was trouble. Vagabonds was trouble. No wonder I'd met Jamie there -- that boy was definitely trouble.

     Stevie had left out one minor detail about the club, though.

      All around me, girls were dancing on girls and guys were dancing on guys. The walls held framed pictures of drag queens, the people were covered in color, and right above the bar hung a big fat rainbow flag.

   Only a few feet ahead of us, at the crossing point where the emptiness of the entrance gave way to the tight-packed crowd, two girls were making out against the wall like nobody was watching.

    Which would have been cool and all if one of them wasn't my sister.

     Jamie laughed at the disgusted expression on my face. "Is Stevie bi?" he yelled over the music.

     "Isn't everyone bi in college?" I said, tearing my eyes away from a scene that I was sure would haunt my nightmares. "But yeah, she swings both ways."

     "Can't relate," Jamie scoffed. "But hey, that's two for three with the queer siblings," he pointed out. "Nice."

     "Wanna get a drink?" I asked, but before I could even think about moving, I was tackled from behind by the offender herself, who'd apparently decided it was a good time to stop sucking face.

    "Bubby!" she drawled, hugging me around the waist. "I was waiting for you!"

     "Were you, now?" I teased, turning around and glancing purposefully at Stevie's . . .  friend. "I hope you didn't get too bored."

     Stevie turned red. "This is Hana," she announced, pointing an unsteady hand at the girl: a tall, short-haired Asian girl with a confident smile and a lip ring. "Hana, this is my gay-ass brother Liam and his gay-ass friend Jamie."

     Stevie was clearly already tipsy. Liam was impressed that hadn't translated over the phone.

     "What's up?" Hana greeted, slinging an arm around Stevie's waist. "I'm Hana." Then she giggled, cut short by a hiccup -- she'd definitely had a few drinks herself -- and said, "She already said that, right?"

     "Did I?" Stevie furrowed her eyebrows, stumbling on her feet even though she hadn't been moving.

    "I don't know," Hana said, hollow-voiced as if it was the world's most puzzling mystery. "How freaking funny is that?"

     "How funny is what?"

       Maybe tipsy was an understatement. Jamie and I exchanged a glance, and he was covering his mouth to  hide a laugh.

     "Let's go dance!" Stevie shouted out of the blue, and she took Jamie's hand and dragged him into the mass of bodies, where he disappeared after one last amused glance at me.

     "I think she just stole your boy!" Hana laughed. "You gonna take that?"

      Smiling uneasily, I said, "I guess I shouldn't, right?" So Hana and I followed Stevie onto the dance floor, where we found her in a group with some of the friends I'd met before — Sarahs included — and some I hadn't. Jamie smiled in relief when he saw me.

     "Someone's late to the party," he teased, holding out his hand to me, but I didn't miss the discomfort in the way he inches closer to men. I took his hand, and the tension in his shoulder eased when I pulled him into my chest.

     "Better late than never, hm?" I said holding him by the hips. "Can you hold your own while I get us drinks?"

"Get the he'll away from me," Jamie said dryly, but when I began to edge away he hooked his fingers into my collar to drag me into a brief kiss. Then he pushed me away by the chest, reluctantly turning to face the group of strangers. The atmosphere in this place had me craving alcohol -- I wanted to forget myself just enough to let loose and get all hot and bothered and not give a shit about anything else. I couldn't wait to get back to the floor and dance with Jamie -- it had been so long since Vagabonds. I hadn't realized until now how much I missed it.

     As I was waiting for my drinks, leaning forward with my elbows on the counter, a tall man with a dark hair and pretty green eyes approached from my side, smiling amicably. He sat down on the stool nearest to me and said, "Don't tell me a guy like you came here alone?"

     Was this going to be a repeating theme for me?

     "I'm not," I said, nodding toward the crowd behind us. "I'm here with friends."

     "Ah," the guy nodded. "Having fun?"

      "I only got here a few minutes ago," I admitted. "This place seems cool, though."

      "Oh it is," he said. "Even better if you have someone to dance with."

     I silently cursed the bartender for taking so long with my drink.

     "Oh, I d--"

     "Say, can I buy you a drink?" the man cut me off.

     "I'm actually waiting on one right now," I told him, and with perfect timing, two plastic cups slid across the counter. "Well, it was nice talking to you, I better g--"

     "There's no rush," he said easily, holding out his hand. "I haven't even introduced myself yet. Aaron Johnski, at your service."

     "Liam," I said through gritted teeth, reluctantly shaking his hand.

     He cocked his head with vague but indiscreet curiosity, eyeing subtly down my frame, still holding onto my hand. "You here with a boyfriend?"

     I pulled my hand away from his awkwardly. It wasn't that the guy wasn't cute -- he was really handsome, actually, and couldn't have been older than twenty-five. But he was missing something kind of important. He wasn't Jamie.

     "Well, no, but I do--"

    "How about you dance with me?" Aaron offered, and I was pretty sure my head would explode if he cut me off one more time.

     "No, that's okay," I shook my head. "I should --"

     "Why is it taking you seven years to get . . ?"

    Okay, so my head didn't explode, but that was solely because the person who interrupted me was shorter, smaller, blonder, and snickering smugly. I silently thanked the gay gods for assigning James Alexander as my guardian angel.

     "Ah," he said as he took in my situation.  "Why do I always find you like this?"

     "Beats me," I said as he turned his attention to Aaron, smiling too politely. I knew him well enough to catch the well-concealed glare in his eyes. Aaron didn't, though -- on the contrary, he looked Jamie up and down appreciatively, and I was instantly a thousand times more annoyed with him than I'd been before.

    "Hi there," Jamie said, taking one of the drinks from my hand. "Liam here noticed you earlier, said he thought you were really hot."

     I turned to him with wide eyes, silently screaming are you crazy, but he kept his steady gaze on Aaron.

     Aaron's eyebrows quirked, and he glanced at me with a poorly concealed smirk on his lips. "Oh really?"

     "No," Jamie deadpanned, and I had to press my lips together to hold back a snort. He was such a goddamn prick.

     Aaron's face fell from smug surprise to confusion. ". . . huh?"

    Jamie held out his hand to shake. "I'm James." It was the first time I'd ever heard him say his real name, and I wasn't sure whether or not I liked the way it sounded on his lips. "It's nice to meet you."

     Aaron's parted lips gave away his remaining uneasiness. "My name's Aar --"

     Before Aaron could finish -- while his hand was still rising to meet Jamie's -- Jamie said, "Alright, I'm bored." He took my hand and pulled me away to the dance floor, leaving a dumbfounded Aaron staring after us. I laughed the whole way there, because Jamie was the worst and I loved it.

     "Can't leave you alone for two seconds," he mused, raising his drink to his lips.

      By the time the drinks were finished, I was considerably less sober than I'd been before, and I was in the middle of a very close-pressed friend group, flush against the most gorgeous boy I'd ever met.     

     I'd forgotten how good it was to dance with Jamie.

    To be pressed against him, swaying to the music, hot at the touch of his hands on my arms, on my chest, in my hair. I'd forgotten how intoxicating he could be when he flashed that flirty smile and moved his hips effortlessly to the rhythm of the music. I'd forgotten how tempting he was, how close was never close enough, how the rest of the club faded into the background when I held him. I could vaguely remember a whistle from Hana when he turned around against me, when I'd lowered my lips to his neck, but that faded quickly, too.

    He was the type of guy who left no room for distraction. When he wanted to be the center of your attention, he made it happen. And he knew exactly how to get my attention. He knew what I wanted and gave me just enough to keep me wanting more and more and more -- I felt drunk each time he kissed me, crazy everywhere he touched me. He was unorthodox and confident and so damn sexy I was losing my mind.

    "You're gonna make a madman out of me, Alexander," I said, not even fully aware that I was talking at all, lost in the music and the atmosphere and the boy.

    Jamie smiled against my lips, running his hands slowly up my sides, under my shirt. "Good," he muttered. "Seven, six, five, four . . ."

     I didn't know why he was counting. I didn't even realize that everyone else around us was counting, too -- I was too focused on Jamie.

     "Three, two, one."

     The entire nightclub erupted in screams of Happy New Year, and I finally understood. Only for a moment, though, because Jamie's lips captured mine in a hot, open-mouthed New Year's kiss, and everything else was drowned out again.

We left the club laughing. I was significantly worse-off than Jamie, and I tugged at his hand like a child, pulling him from place to place on the empty sidewalk and only half aware of what I was saying.

I pulled him after me, breaking into a skip and singing some indiscernible tune. When Jamie didn't join in my frolicking, I whipped around to face him, pointed at him with wobbly hands, and said, "Y'know wha' you are?"

Jamie continued walking, so I began stepping backwards to keep up with him, which wasn't too easy in my current state and honestly I should've been given a prize.

"You're . . . you're my boo," I announced loudly. Jamie raised his eyebrows at me.

"Am I?" he asked, sparing an unimpressed glance in my direction.

"Mmmmhm," I hummed happily, tripping within an instant of my attempt to walk backwards. "And yo --" I broke off with a hiccup, "you're my baby!"

"Hush!" Jamie hissed when the woman across the street — the only other person around at this time of night — gave me a peculiar look. Hard as he tried to glare at me, though, his voice shook with controlled laughter.

Of course, I did the exact opposite of what he wanted me to do. I got down on one knee, took both of his hands in mine, tilted my head way back, and yelled, "You're my boo-baby!"

"Oh god," Jamie muttered, turning pink as we got yet another look from the lady with the bad dye-job. Nothing could hide those roots.

"My boo-aby!" I laughed, standing again and pulling him down the sidewalk. He stumbled reluctantly after me, too small to do much resisting even with my current state. "My baboo! You're my — my booby!"

I twirled him around in an unwanted circle and took another three steps — trips — back before I realized just what I'd said and burst into hysterics. I bent over in stupid laughter, holding my knees, because I'd just Defined The Relationship, and Jamie Alexander was officially my Booby. My breast. My titty. My melon. My milk-maker. My weirdly bouncy sphere of chest fat. How fucking great was that?

The woman across the street was walking faster to get away from us, speeding around a corner.

"How romantic," Jamie trailed, and I only laughed harder, crying at this point, falling against the wall of some random sketchy building. He just rolled his eyes and moved to continue walking, but then he looked at me and a strange little smile took his face. "God, you're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot," I sang, staggering away from the wall to throw my arms around him in a sloppy hug. Jamie pushed me away, but he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding that smile, and if I wasn't so fucked up, I might've noticed the affection in his voice as he said, "I guess you are."

"I spy with my little eye," I said randomly, my attention already shifting to something else as we started up walked again. "Something that is white and round and sky in the high --" I giggled, "High in the sky, but like it still rhymed so fuck the government, ya know?"

Jamie blinked at me, then acted as if I hadn't spoken.

"You have to guess what I spy," I whispered loudly. "Spied. Spid? Speed? Fuck."

With a relenting sigh, Jamie said, "The moon."

"Oh my god yeah!" I cheered. "You're so good at this!"

"So good."

"You have to spy something now."

"You talk a lot when you're drunk."

I looked around, then back at him, confused. "Was that the hint? You're supposed to say I Spy first."

Jamie let a laugh slip. "I spy . . . something tall, sexy, and wasted off his ass."

"Oh yeah?" I grinned. "I bet he's a-fucking-dorable drunk, right?"

"Of course."

"And he's really sweet."

"The sweetest."

"Not to mention wonderful in bed."

"The dude knows what he's doing."

"And he makes your heart go boom boom boom?"

"Like a Black Eyed Peas song."

"Awwww, booby!" I cooed. "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me! I could kiss you!"

Jamie smirked. "Then kiss me, idiot."

Hardly needing to be told twice, I pulled him around the corner of the nearest building and pressed my lips against his laughing ones, smiling with a lazy sort of happiness. Needless to say, we got back to the apartment somewhat later than we'd planned.

It was a nice moment, albeit a little bit stupid and irresponsible. Maybe that's what Jamie needed. Hopefully it would last.

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Spoiler alert: it won't last. you know me. how boring would that be?

Star Struck? Supernova? See what I did there? Ngl I'm proud of myself