I re-read the essay question for about the one-hundredth time trying to wrap my head around what it's actually asking me about The Great Gatsby-

'Does the novel critique or uphold the values of the Jazz Age and the fears of the Lost Generation?'

I've written just two paragraphs before becoming increasingly stuck... it also doesn't help when Blaze has been poking my foot and throwing things at me for the past half hour.

"I'm bored Butterfly." He whines rolling onto his back, picking up a football and throwing it repetitively in the air, the thud of the leather against his callous hands' pounds around his bedroom. I ignore him and focus back on my essay, the words jumbling in my mind as the thudding grows increasingly more irritating.

"Blaze why aren't you doing your essay?" I huff turning to face him, his lips turning up ever so slightly at the corners. He's laying on his side, propped up by his massive bicep- black ink nearly blending in with the comforter, shirt riding up around his waist with his jeans hung low on his hips. His shirt rides up a little and I have to avert my eyes from looking at his toned navel. He shugs turning his head to meet me with mischievous eyes.

Despite being one of the smartest students I know he always leaves his homework until the last minute, he'll even end up taking my notes if he fell asleep in class- not that I don't mind but he's too smart for his own good. It triggers me how he can write the most amazing essays twenty minutes before class, having taken no notes, and get an A but I end up stressing the whole weekend trying to maintain my A!

I stare back at my paper with my small, smudged handwriting on and huff at the question again, driving my hands into my hair. I just can't focus today.

Blaze suddenly tugs on my legs making me squeal as I move across his bed towards him, my poor essay being left in my wake.

"Blaze!" I whack him on the leg, his deep chuckle resides through me and his hand runs up and down the back of my calf making me shiver, "I need to finish my essay." I groan trying to hide my smile.

"Nope you need to leave it for a while, you've got time and besides you can't seem to focus right now." I can hear the smirk in his voice as his thumb draws circles on my thigh. My skin pebbles under my skinny jeans.

"Oh... I wonder why that is. It couldn't be because a massive oaf has been distracting me for the past half hour. An oaf with the attention span of a three-year-old." I poke his cheek watching his hand shoot to his chest in mock pain.

"Who are you calling an oaf!" His eyebrows pinch together in faux upset.

"An attractive oaf?" I counter with a small giggle.

"Well, that's an oxymoron if ever I heard one." He sighs looking at the posters that plague his bedroom walls. His room's not gaudy like average teenage boys, it's relatively tidy, smells pretty good, has actual books in it and doesn't have a stash of porn magazines or topless posters.

Blazes room is simple and defiantly does not lack his brooding character. The walls are black, the blinds are back, the bed and bedding are black and his fricking wardrobe is black. The only non-black are the few photos he has by his desk, of us and his friends and the football posters and banners he's won from games- tonnes of football memorabilia.

I think my favourite part of his black room is his small bookshelf overflowing with classics and more modern books, it makes him that extra bit hotter. We usually end up in here just laying on his bed... Blaze usually laughs at me because I get nervous being in here alone, it just seems so... intimate but I always end up in his arms sound asleep. Sure, the nightmares come and go but he's always there to help me through them.

"Come here," Blaze cocks his head back indicating for me to sidle up to him. He puts his arm around my waist as I roll into his side, resting my head on his chest hearing his steady heartbeat through his thin shirt. If only my heart were this steady, I still get giddy when we're this close, it sparks me inside. "Maybe this will help." He rolls over slightly and grabs something off his bedside table, the bed creaking under his weight.

I gasp quietly as he holds up the navy blue and gold The Great Gatsby book, the one I got him from the bookstore a few months ago.

"You still have it?" I whisper looking at different coloured sticky notes poking out of it.

"Of course Blondie, it's one of my favourite things... and it came from you." He places a tender kiss on my forehead which makes me feel like I've fallen headfirst into a bowl of soup. I melt from the touch. I take the book from his hands and open the front page tracing my hands along the fading black ink.

"Will you read some to me?" I look up through my dark lashes, Blazes face grimaces.

"Fuck no." he scoffs, his fingers pressing into my hips more.

"Please?"

"No way Butterfly."

I pout, pinching my eyebrows together. Blaze sighs running an exasperated hand down his face.

"Atlas... I... ugh... fine." I bite down on my bottom lip in a smile wrapping my arms around his torso in gratitude, I go to pull back but he keeps them secured around his middle. "I swear to god I'm so fucking whipped." He mumbles into my hair, "This is what it feels like... I'm reading to my girl." He mutters like he's going insane, I try and conceal my blushing grin in his shirt. Blaze makes me feel like I belong somewhere, like I actually mean something to someone and I'm not just an accessory, "All right... here we go."

I spend the next half hour listening to Blaze read aloud to me, occasionally stopping to make the odd dirty comment about what we could be doing instead of reading. Each time I flush a deeper shade of red but each time I feel an even bigger need for him and more from him. It scares me as much as it excites me.

I often find my mind drifting over that whole situation, given Blaze is a lot more experienced than me and I'd have quite literally no idea where to start, it worries me. What If he decides he's conquered the 'freaky quiet mousey' and leaves after we... oh god Atlas stop!

"You okay?" Blaze has stopped reading and is now poking me in the ribs.

"Hmm?"

"You look like you're thinking too hard." He puts the book down on the bed and rotates his body so he's looking at me side on, using an elbow to prop himself up, his finger trails down my cheek, "What are you thinking about?" I stare up at the ceiling, my hands move up and down on my stomach as I breathe in and out steadily.

"Why do you want to go to Alabama?" I'm not sure why I ask, maybe feeding into my fears he'll definitely leave me at the end of the year.

He inches back, eyebrows pinched together, "I already said, I've wanted to go since I was young."

"No the real reason, like what first attracted you to going there?" I turn to face him, studying his expression carefully. He looks slightly pained as he delves back to his childhood but it's replaced with a small smile, a genuinely nostalgic one with pride.

"My gramps went there before he was in the NFL and then he coached there after he got injured before he moved up to coach the big NFL teams. He used to take me to Alabama games when I was younger and I never quite got the same feeling anywhere else you know? It probably sounds weird as fuck but if I don't go there I'd be letting both him and myself down." He sighs. Casting his eyes over a Crimson Tide poster on his wall.

"It doesn't sound weird at all, I understand Blaze, it sounds fricking human. But you're not going to let anyone down because I know you'll be on that exact team at the start of the semester." He places a small kiss on the top of my forehead again. Sometimes those are the best kind of kisses, so delicate and intimate, often saying a thousand words neither of us wish to actually say aloud. "What's he like? Your Gramps?" He talks about his grandparents a lot and I love to listen, having had no grandparents of my own it's something I both envy and feel grateful for. I wish I'd had grandparents as great as his, who knows what would have happened instead but I'm grateful Blaze has the best kind who love and support him because he deserves it.

"He's an ass most of the time," He lets out a small chuckle, "But he's the best. He'd love you... he's actually really excited to meet you. He pestered me all Christmas about you..." Blazes thumb runs across my palm, a tiny splash of red tinging his nose, almost inviable to the human eye.

Of course, it's nothing in comparison to the red fire that's broken out on my face... meeting grandparents? Isn't that meant to be a really big step kind of thing... I already live with his mom though? I mean the whole things pretty backwards but meeting family... we haven't even put an official label on this. Even though we agreed to take it slow it feels anything but, we live together, I literally fall asleep in his bed most nights, we do practically everything together and I get this unbearable ache when we're apart and long to be close to him again. We haven't... you know... done the deed but physically and mentally I've never felt like this around anyone else. It may be moving quickly but it feels so right and normal, cliché- but it feels like we've been living like this for the whole of our lives.

"Don't look so fucking worried A." He rolls over and places a kiss on the tip of my nose, I give him a wobbly smile, "My gramps is the most supportive of football if that's even possible since my whole family roots for me unconditionally. He coached me, came to all my games, picked me up and encouraged me to hold a football again after I'd given up. He's got the worst-best sense of humour, full of dad jokes and very un-politically correct puns. He's got the kindest heart and is still ridiculously in love with my nana. It's almost sickening to watch but they'd do anything for us."

Blazes smile is permanently etched on his face as he recalls his grandparents, I listen with such intensity trying to ignore the niggling pain inside me. I wonder what it would have been like if I had grandparents. What if they hadn't abandoned my mom? Would she still be here?

"I'm sorry. I'm being insensitive. Fuck." Blaze runs his hand down his face, frustratedly angry. I didn't realise my eyes had glassed over.

"You're not. I love hearing you talk about them. Honest. They sound like amazing people Blaze." I smile trying to rid the tears gathering on the surface of my eyes, he looks unconvinced, "Everything happens for a reason. That's the way I have look at things." I let out a strong breath. It's a motto I've lived by for a while, trying to keep optimistic that something better is coming, I'm being prepared for the next big thing and when I get it, everything will be worth it. Blaze opens his mouth to tell me I'm crazy, he often likes to question how I remain so optimistic after everything but he flops onto his back closing his arms tighter around me. He looks up at the ceiling with a blank expression, unreadable eyes.

A comfortable silence fills the room with Blaze deep in thought, I listen to his heartbeat pressing my ear to his chest. It's slightly faster now but makes me feel drowsy.

"Alabama is a fifteen-hour drive from New York." He mutters muscles tensing. I freeze, neither of us say anything, we both understand what he means. He's thinking about what happens to us at the end of the year too. Some part of me is relieved he's actively thinking about it but I don't think either of us wants to really address that massive elephant. We've just come out of one big thing... we just want to focus on ourselves and not worry about our futures for once. Who knows what's going to happen during the rest of the year, the only thing I'm certain of is that I want to spend it with Blaze focusing on us and healing myself.

But the longer we ignore it the harder it's going to be.

I squeeze him and nestle further into his body, "I've really got to finish my essay. And you need to start yours." I mumble, Blaze chuckles but dosn't let up.

"Just lie with me for a bit longer."

And I do. I want to be here in this moment, not worrying about the future or the past.

🥺

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