Girls, Breaking Hearts

John sat down Indian-style on the floor, still not letting go of his girlfriend. “What?” he asked incredulously. He didn’t sound angry, or happy, just incredulous. “You did?”

She shied away from his gaze and nodded. Whenever they talked seriously, she felt that way because she worried that he wouldn’t take her opinions seriously. Her take on things were nothing compared to his. She kept her head down and started making circles on his thigh.

“Just that I’m with someone older, but I didn’t tell her it was you,” she said quietly, then sighed. “I thought she’d understand. You know, given her history.”

John knew of the older Shelton sister. She was two years younger than him, a classmate of his brother Ross, one of the few guys who didn’t fall for Spitfire Shelton and her games. He knew her reputation as a heartbreaker, a wild heart, the girl who fell in and out of “love” easily. But he’d heard that story before, the event that made Bailey Shelton ultimately get her shit together. Long story short, she met her match, and learned to settle down.

“She thinks I’m acting up,” Brooke continued. “The conversation got heated and ultimately ended with me hanging up.”

John nodded, resting his large hand on the back of her neck urging her to come closer so he could kiss her properly. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips. “Sorry I’m so old.”

She giggled, shoving his chest once. “Awful. Awful, awful joke.”

“Ow!” He laughed, grabbing her hand and kissing it. “At least I made you laugh.”

“Mhm-mhm.” She grinned at him and touched the tip of his nose. “I’m happy with you. Don’t doubt that.”

~

The night started innocently for John, but as it progressed his friend lust started rearing its head. First when he made her wear one of his shirts- it fit her loosely but perfectly in his eyes, like she was his. And now that she was licking ice cream off his spoon, he couldn’t help but think of where that tongue has been and what she could do with it. When her lips pursed slightly, trying not to laugh at what they were watching, he thought of what she was willing to do with her mouth.

When the conversation shifted to music, John was glad, thinking he could maybe set aside his desire, but what he didn’t know was it was just starting to unravel.

“I’ve always had a crush on your music taste,” she confessed after about two hours on the topic, slightly laughing. “You’re the reason I have the entire Lou Reed discography.”

“I’m honoured- but are you sure it’s just my music taste you have a crush on?” he teased, causing her to erupt in laughter. He was a bit offended at first, but quickly recovered when she tried to subtly ogle him but was unsuccessful since he saw her.

“You’re a piece of art.”

“And you’re a piece of work,” he shot back, sitting beside her. That’s when he smelled the alcohol on her. He had been distancing himself earlier, just to make sure he could control himself. “Why do you smell like alcohol?”

“We drank earlier,” she reasoned but then he thought of how long she’d taken in the bathroom and it clicked.

“Brooklyn,” he said sternly, “did you drink in the shower?”

“What?” She chuckled, not even trying to hide the hazy state she was in. He stared her down until she gave in and bit her lip, admitting, “I may or may not have stolen a bottle of whiskey from your cupboard but don’t worry, I’ll replace it.”

He sighed, standing up in front of her. “I do not need you to replace it, Brooklyn. Why did you do that?”

She simply shrugged, looking up at the man lecturing her.“Shitty night.” Tilting her head to the side, she smirked up at him, making him uncomfortable.

“I know that, but still...” John had a hunch of what was about to happen. He was going to be seduced and they would fuck on the couch, on the kitchen counter, on the shower, and on his bed.

But God, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to, she was only seventeen and he was much older than her. No matter how attractive she was, she was still jailbait.

“Would you chill.” She chuckled once more, holding her hands up in defense, almost dropping the spoon in her hand which John quickly caught. He grabbed the pint from her other hand and set it down the table. “No need to be uptight and shit, I can handle myself-”

“Yes, but if you’re going to stay here tonight-”

She giggled, her cheeks getting redder by the second. “I’m staying here tonight huh?”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. He was just frazzled and assumed she was staying given her current condition. He visibly blushed and avoided eye contact. “It’s just a suggestion, an offer, not involving any other connotation-”

“Like sexual ones?” She giggled again, the whiskey she had imbibed clearly getting to her. She abruptly stood up, lifting her hand up, one finger finding its way to the belt hook on John’s jeans. “You know-”

“That’s enough,” he said, grabbing her wrists and leading her to the bedroom. “You’re going to bed.”

After a lot of struggling, John finally managed to get her into his bed and tuck her in, forcing himself to camp out in his living room.

But an hour passed and neither could sleep.

Finally, Brooklyn made her move, what she’d wanted to do all night, the idea that had made her steal that bottle and drink it up. She got up from John’s bed and silently made her way to the living room where she found him laying on the couch. The TV was on but when she peeked in she saw that his eyes were closed. But the breathing was soft and he was clearly awake though unaware of the presence hovering over him. He didn’t anticipate the sudden figure sitting on his thigh, and the lips trailing kisses down his biceps. He squirmed under her touch, his eyes shooting open.

“Brooke-”

It was a moan, neither could deny it. John felt the pleasure course through his veins but tried to push her away, his hand accidentally touching her breast. He quickly recoiled.

“Brooklyn, you’re-”

“What, drunk?” she scoffed, jutting out her lower lip making him rethink his words. God he wanted those lips back on his skin, wherever. He closed his eyes, trying to focus.

“No, young.”

She frowned once more, hitting him on the chest. “I don’t care!” she exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to do this all night- not just this night- I want youuuuu.”

She leaned down and consumed his mouth in a mind-blowing kiss, leaving him breathless. He moaned against her lips and as their tongues danced together his hand instinctively crept up her back, lifting her shirt- or rather his shirt- up, his fingertips grazing the hook on her bra. Her knee lightly bumped his crotch and that’s when he got a reality check. He quickly disentangled from her, tearing his lips away and softly pushing her off him.

“We can’t,” he said, out of breath. “Brooke, we can’t, it’s wrong-”

But he wasn’t given a lot of time to protest. She moved back on top of him and started biting on his lower lip, turning him on more than he ever thought it would. He felt himself getting aroused and so did she.

He found himself wondering did she do this with that guy?

“Fuck John,” she moaned, quickly unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans. He tried to protest once more but once her shirt was off, he stopped. Her huge breasts were right in his face and he couldn’t look away.

She unhooked her bra and subsequently took John’s shirt off, which he helped her with. The moment his chest met her breasts the damage was done, there was no turning back and thus the night took a turn for the worst. Or for the better.

~

Brooke woke up for the second time that day at 8 AM, with an empty space beside her. She patted it twice, wishing John was there but he still wasn’t; where was he? He’d gotten up around sometime before 6, why, she didn’t know, but it made her groan out loud. She thought this getaway meant them together doing everything together and staying in bed until the afternoon. But they were leaving at 4 after all, so maybe he was back at the water.

She got up, finding his shirt from last night on the floor and pulling it over her head. She slipped on her underwear and made her way out of the room, to find her boyfriend in the kitchen looking seriously adorable as he cooked something. She loudly cooed at him as she walked over and hugged him from behind.

“You’re seriously so cute,” she said. “Is this why you were up so early?”

He scoffed and turned around to face her. “It wasn’t early,” he said. “I wanted to give you breakfast in bed.”

“I want you in bed with me right now,” she said seductively as she tugged on the elastic of his waistband.

He grinned at her and kissed her forehead. “Once you finish eating, you can have me.”

She smiled at him truly feeling satisfied. Sometimes she questioned what she and John had, whether it would last or fade soon, whether it was real or not. Whenever he was on tour it was easy to overthink. But with him around, doing things like these, she just couldn’t.

“You know how they say in every relationship there’s a reacher and the settler?” she suddenly asked as she played with her food. They were sitting there eating breakfast together peacefully.

“What?” John chuckled, arching his eyebrows at her.

“The reacher and the settler,” she said. “The one who reaches for the other who’s so far out her league.”

John rolled his eyes, smiling as he sat back on his seat. “What, I’m the reacher? Fine, I get that, you’re great-”

“No.” She shook her head, smiling shyly at him. “Thank you for settling for me.”

John mulled it over and then finally, he let go of his utensils and put his hand over hers. “I’m not settling,” he said firmly, thinking of how she didn’t complain about him being gone for tour, how she always came back after his I-can’t-do-this-anymore episodes, how she tried to be contended with their very rare getaways and in-house movie dates. “You are.”