My Secret Deal 15

The moment I walked through the front door, I felt it.

That quiet, calculated energy. Like a trap had been set and I’d walked right into it.

I wasn’t wrong.

Erin, Maisy, and Willow were sitting in my living room like the holy trinity of intervention. Erin was on her phone, Maisy was curled up with a snack, and Willow? Willow was the one watching me like a hawk.

“You’re late,” Erin said without looking up.

“I wasn’t aware I had a curfew,” I replied, shrugging off my hoodie.

Maisy popped a grape in her mouth. “You’ve been… different lately.”

“I’ve been living.”

Willow arched a brow. “We’re not judging, Lil. But we are noticing.”

They waited for me to say something. To explain myself.

But I couldn’t. Not about Jake.

He was mine — in this small, secret, painful way — and I wasn’t ready to let anyone else touch it.

“I’m not plotting to murder Travis,” I said lightly. “If that’s what this is about.”

Maisy snorted. “That’s… good.”

“I’m just figuring things out.”

That part wasn’t a lie.

Erin finally looked up, her eyes softer now. “Okay. Just don’t disappear on us.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

Even if I already had — a little.

The next morning, my parents left for a business trip — three full days of silence, freedom, and zero surveillance.

Well, almost zero.

Our house had security cameras in every hallway. But my room? My room was off-limits. My room was mine.

I didn’t even hesitate.

Me: House is mine for the weekend. Cam coverage everywhere but my bedroom.

Jake: On my way. Keep the door unlocked.

He showed up twenty minutes later, slipping in through the back, hoodie up, like he was breaking into enemy territory.

I opened my bedroom door and nearly laughed.

He was standing there, holding two massive takeout bags and wearing the most smug expression I’d ever seen.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Ten burgers. Ten cookies.”

“That’s excessive.”

“That’s romance.”

He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the floor, spreading the feast between us like it was a royal banquet.

We ate on the floor. Watched dumb movies. Talked about nothing and everything.

It was… normal.

And I hated how good that felt.

Somewhere between burger five and cookie seven, I slumped back against my bed, my stomach full and a slow, lazy warmth spreading through me. I groaned softly, stretching out my arms.

“You’ve officially broken me,” I mumbled, the words thick with food coma.

Jake, sitting cross-legged beside me, smirked as he licked a streak of sauce off his thumb. “You love it. Admit it.”

I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the ridiculous fullness in every inch of my body. “Unfortunately, I do,” I muttered, drawing out the words like a confession.

He laughed — a low, lazy sound — and crumpled the empty burger wrapper into a loose ball. He aimed for the trash can near my dresser and missed by a foot. It bounced off the floor with a soft plop, ignored completely by both of us.

For a while, we didn’t talk. The room was filled with that easy, post-food kind of silence where the world slows down and everything sharp gets a little bit softer around the edges.

Jake shifted, stretching out his legs, one socked foot nudging mine lightly. “So,” he said finally, breaking the quiet.

I turned my head slightly. “So?”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

I tried to feign confusion, but even I knew it wasn’t convincing. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, studying me with those dark, too-knowing eyes. “You’ve been quiet all night. Not the usual you.”

I shrugged, staring up at the ceiling like it might offer a better answer. “I’m thinking.”

He nudged me again, this time with a little more pressure. “About what?”

“Life. Everything.”

He didn’t push any further. He just stayed there beside me, our shoulders brushing every time one of us shifted. It felt steady. Safe.

“So what about your life?” I asked after a beat. “You never talk about it. Your family. Your past. Nothing.”

Jake went still, and the energy between us shifted. It wasn’t anger exactly, but it was something brittle, something hard enough that it made me sit up a little straighter.

“There’s not much to say,” he said after a moment, his voice careful.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “You know everything about mine.”

His mouth twisted into something almost like a smile, but not quite. “That’s different.”

“Why is it different?”

He looked at me then, really looked, and the sadness in his expression hit harder than I expected. “Because I like the way you look at me now,” he said quietly.

The words punched straight through my chest, leaving a hollow ache. I didn’t push again. I didn’t need to.

My phone buzzed against the nightstand. Grateful for the distraction, I grabbed it.

A message lit up the screen.

Harry: Echo says hi. Also says he still owes you three nuggets.

A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it. It was harmless. Friendly. But when I glanced over, Jake had already seen.

His entire body shifted — straightening, tense. His jaw tightened so sharply I could almost hear it.

“Who’s that?” he asked, voice sharp enough to slice through the room.

“Harry,” I answered, keeping my tone light.

Jake’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “The dog guy.”

“He has a name,” I said, a little too defensively.

Jake didn’t bother responding. Instead, he just sat there, practically vibrating with suppressed energy while I tapped out a short, polite reply to Harry and slid my phone back onto the bed.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop five degrees.

“You’re really texting him?” Jake asked, his voice rough.

I sighed. “Jake—”

“He’s obviously into you.”

I turned toward him fully, the frustration bubbling up fast. “And why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said instantly, too fast, too forced.

I rolled my eyes and reached for another cookie. “Sure. You don’t care.”

Before I could take a bite, Jake leaned forward, snatching my phone off the bed.

“Hey!” I protested, lunging after him.

“Say it,” he demanded, holding the phone just out of reach.

“Say what?” I snapped, grappling at his arm.

“That you’re not interested.”

I scrambled after him, pushing against his chest. Somehow, in the chaos, I ended up straddling his lap, my hands planted firmly against his chest for balance.

We froze.

The shift in the air was immediate. Heavy. Hot. His hands slid up to grip my waist, his fingers pressing into my hoodie like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

I could feel the beat of his heart under my palms, fast and ragged, mirroring my own.

“I’m not interested in Harry,” I whispered, my voice barely a thread of sound between us.

Jake’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second. “I know.”

I tried to pull back, but he stayed close, his forehead brushing mine.

“Then give me back my phone,” I said, my breath catching.

He gave a crooked grin, the kind that made my stomach flip. “Make me.”

The words hung there, daring.

My heart stuttered once.

And then I kissed him.

Hard. Desperate. Real.

He kissed me back like he’d been drowning without it, his hands sliding under the hem of my hoodie, skin on skin. I pressed closer, needing more, and he groaned, deep and rough, sending shivers straight through me.

“I want you,” I whispered against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, searching my face like he needed to be sure. “Lily—”

“I want you to take it,” I said, the truth spilling out before I could second-guess it.

His hands trembled as they framed my face. “Is this your first time?” he asked, voice rough, reverent.

I nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”