29. Cheery + Chances

It's been 9 days since the last update, and that was by design ! This chapter starts 9 weeks since the last chapter ended, so (hopefully) you've felt some of the same emotions Fallon has over these past few days... If not, that's cool, but that's what I was hoping to accomplish 😋 anyways, ENJOY!! 💙

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"Shut up, Mariah," I grumble as I pull a pillow from behind my head and chuck it across the room at the Bluetooth speaker that was supposed to be playing Top 40. Apparently Christmas music from the 90s made the cut.

Flopping onto the other pillows, I tip back the last drops of whiskey, silently judging my petty self for the fact that not only was I was still refusing to drink wine, but also I was currently completely plastered, drinking alone in my bed.

Wiggling my hand across the uneven surface of the fluffy down comforter in the hopes of finding my phone, I successfully locate it, hoping to see a notification that would provide some sort of worthwhile distraction.

Clicking the home button, I heave a sigh when there's nothing on the screen except the background photo, which is of Presley and me when we played hooky and went to the beach earlier this school year. The time displays 12:31am, which means that it's officially December 25th. That's half of why I'm drinking.

I'm not a fan of Christmas.

Growing up, I used to love it. But now? Not so much. Call me Scrooge, or the Grinch, or whatever, but to me, Christmas is just a great excuse to have a break halfway through the academic year.

It doesn't help that the damn music is playing literally everywhere, all the time, reminding me of just how fucking cheery I'm supposed to be.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of hot chocolate, twinkling lights and eating a shit ton of delicious food... but everything changed the first December after dad died. Everyone in town had regarded us with "oh-the-poor-dears" expressions and left casseroles on our front porch. Mom had said she didn't have enough money for gifts or a tree... then a few hours later, after she thought I was in bed, I'd watched her hand over a wad of $20 bills to her dealer.

For whatever reason, the dad-sized hole in my heart seemed to double during Christmastime.

I was usually able to successfully block out anything and everything one would consider "holly jolly." We didn't decorate the house, didn't bake cookies and certainly didn't do gift lists or presents.

But this year? There's definitely one thing I wouldn't mind unwrapping. Or, well, one person... specifically. That's the other half of why I'm drinking.

I hadn't been around, talked to or seen Jayce in nine weeks.

Nine weeks of trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, and why the hell I'd walked away from him on the homecoming dance floor.

Nine weeks of zero communication with that damned, insanely handsome goalie. Clove and perique hadn't commanded my senses. Chocolatey curls, bronze skin, those dangerous, gentle eyes and that devilish smile hadn't crossed my line of vision in over two months. I had left things with an air of finality, I'll admit, but part of me still wished he'd reach out.

I'd immersed myself fully into school and work, telling myself this is how my year should've been anyway.

In the tail-end of October, I'd managed to get the grades on my and Haven's AP Cal test restored. After I'd gone to Principal Wright with the video from Shay, Haven and I were allowed a re-test and had both passed with flying colors. Other than that, the outcome had been less than satisfactory... Shay had been expelled immediately, regardless of her attempts to prove Layla's involvement in the shit show.

Layla, that evil, conniving bitch, had still managed to get off unscathed. Call it unfair, nepotism or incest, Principal Wright's reasoning made no fucking sense whatsoever. Layla's sneer had never been more victorious than on that day.

I, on the other hand, had eaten sorrow by the spoonful. I had let Shay know that I was going to turn in the video, and she'd told me to go on ahead, but I ultimately ended up crying and apologizing profusely when she told me of her expulsion.

Shay had insisted she was actually very happy that she'd been expelled. Now, she said, she could be homeschooled, and therefore would have the ability to get signed by a modeling agency so she could start doing shoots and other model-y things during the day. She'd ended up thanking me for it all.

Rolling over to my bedside table, I grab the bottle of cheap whiskey and pour myself another glass, taking a long, painful sip of the fiery amber liquid.

In November, Haven and I had an... interesting... conversation with mom over her sad attempt at Thanksgiving-for-three, which had consisted of runny mashed potatoes and burned turkey. We appreciated her effort, but it was the dinner conversation that was most memorable.

As it turns out, dad's vineyard earnings hadn't been blown, at least not completely. On a rare day when mom had been sober and somehow managed to remember that Haven and I existed, she'd transferred his mini-fortune into a trust, which would be divided evenly between Haven and I, then given to us when we each turn 18. The trust's total amounted to around a million dollars, or $500,000 for each of us.

Haven turns 18 in May, which is in about five months. It'll be another year and a half before I'm 18, but it's safe to say that Haven and I will both be getting one hell of a graduation gift.

But even with the fact that I'll be half a millionaire... even with grade restored... even with Shay's reassurance and oddly placed gratitude, and going out with Presley, Haven, Celia and Shay afterwards to celebrate the victory over Layla... there was somehow still a bitter taste left in my mouth. I was doing the best I'd ever done in school, my business was booming, the soccer team was dominating, and my brother and I would soon inherit hella cash... and yet I still felt empty. And I knew why: He was missing.

I hated that I cared so much.

I hated that amazing things could be happening for me, my family and my friends, and yet... none of it seemed to matter, just because one fucking guy wasn't around to piss me off and make me sexually frustrated. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely excited about everything, and feeling incredibly grateful... I just wished I could share it all with him.

Leaving things the way I had with Jayce has been eating me alive, but I couldn't bring myself to reach out to him. I'd type up a message, then delete it instead of sending it. Or I'd just blankly stare at our text thread, trying to figure out what to say. For whatever reason, be it wisdom or pride, I didn't have it in me to talk to him, even message him. I think I broke my heart, as well as his, that night that I'd walked away from him.

And imagining Jayce heartbroken over me... that was ultimately why I couldn't bring myself to talk to him. I didn't want to know how much I'd hurt him. That was one very specific action I didn't want to take responsibility for. I'd spent the past nine weeks hoping that if I ignored it all, then the regret and hurt would eventually go away... but it hadn't.

The most confusing part is, I'm not entirely sure if I even hurt him at all. He seemed almost untouchable. If I had, I didn't want to know. If I hadn't... I didn't want to interrupt him — I'm sure he's been spending his time with countless French models, loving every minute of it and definitely not thinking about me.

My phone lets out a sudden ding from somewhere in my comforter, pulling me from my very-drunk-and-growing-drunker thoughts.

Checking it again, I almost spit out my mouthful of alcohol when I see what's lighting up my screen.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I bury my face in my pillow and let out what would probably be considered a very insane, possibly deranged giggle.

Feeling myself beginning to hyperventilate, I take another swig of whiskey before carefully typing my response.

Wow. How fucking original, Fallon. Way to go.

Cursing myself for not saying something else, asking a question, or, ya know, apologizing profusely, I slam the back of my head against the wall and take another sip of whiskey. Luckily, my phone dings again before I can drown myself in regret any further.

I only notice the drunken typos after I hit send. Instinctively, I grab the necklace Jayce gave me, which is hanging around my neck. I've developed a nervous tick over the past nine weeks... I've taken to holding it whenever I need reassurance, to calm my nerves. He doesn't need to know I've been wearing it since he placed it in my hand at the dance. Sure, he probably only intended me to wear it if I'd said yes to being his girlfriend... but ya girl didn't think about giving it back to him until she was halfway out of the gymnasium, and I wasn't about to ruin my dramatic exit with a tail-tucked return.

I await his reply, fiddling with the necklace as I wait, my heart thumping against my ribcage.

I suck in a quick breath as I barely get a chance to read the message before my phone starts ringing with a FaceTime call from Jayce.

Pulling up my comforter to my neck to make sure I'm completely covered, I slide the "answer" button across the bottom of the screen.

"Tink!" I hear Jayce's voice crackle as the call connects. "It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too," I smile as I take in his pixelated likeness, my heart already racing ahead.

"Are... are you naked?" He half-asks, half-laughs as that devious, inquisitive smirk forms across his lips.

"I'm in bed, drinking whiskey," I reply, tapping my chin thoughtfully as heat creeps into my stomach from in-between my legs. "I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not being in the nude is part of that equation."

"Is that so?" Jayce's stare pierces me, even from 5,500 miles away.

I nod in reply, not sure I can manage words. The sight of him running his fingers through his curls causes the phantom scent of clove and perique to come rushing into my mind with a flood of other Jayce-focused memories.

"I feel like there's a bit of an imbalance between us," Jayce states thoughtfully as he over-exaggerates stroking his chin.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've seen you naked..." his expression seems to wander off for a moment before he continues, "But you haven't seen me naked. I dunno, in guy world, if you showed me yours, I'd have to show you mine," he shrugs, adorably coy.

"Technically, I haven't willingly shown you anything. I was drunk and don't even remember taking my clothes off," I explain, though I can't hide the heat that floods my cheeks.

Jayce chuckles, but his eyes look a bit pained for a moment, before he shakes his head to keep his locks from falling in front of his eyes.

"So, how's À La Mode?!" I question, grateful that the drunkenness in my voice makes me sound much more sure of myself than I probably would've been otherwise.

"I'm learning so much," Jayce says, almost dreamily. "The Director of Photography, the guy I originally sent my portfolio to, is named Felipe Wolfe, you'd love him. He's absolutely mad, but a brilliant artist. He's says he hasn't seen talent like mine since he first started in the industry."

"That's amazing!" I hiccup, quickly covering my mouth, which causes a crinkly-eyed chuckle from Jayce. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks," he beams, flipping his curls out of his eyes again. "So, what all couldn't you say over text? Are you pregnant or something?"

I scoff, rolling my eyes, but all jokes aside... How the hell is he still so easy to talk to, even after I rejected him? Even after nine weeks without a single drop of communication?

I appreciate that he hasn't brought either of those things up. I love that he's the type of person who doesn't have to get answers, that he can just respect my decision, no questions asked. It's a fact that tugs at my heart strings even more.

I explain the events of the past two months to him. I tell him about the re-test, Shay's expulsion, mom's continued and shocking sobriety, the status of the soccer teams, and even how I'll soon be a hundred-thousand-aire. He listens intently, walking into another room and settling into a plush armchair, sunlight streaming onto his golden skin, making his eyes glow like precious topaz from beneath his wild brown curls.

"Phew," he exhales when I finish. "That's some crazy shit, Tink."

"I wish you could've been here for it," I say softly, already feeling more filled and satisfied than I have in weeks, just from bringing him up to speed. I mentally slap myself for that comment, but he doesn't seem to hear it as his expression screws up in confusion.

"Is that the necklace I gave you?" He asks with a slight hitch in his deep voice.

My heart thumps against my ribcage as I realize that during all my explaining, the comforter had slipped down just enough to reveal the small golden pendant resting on my chest. "Yes," I admit, instinctively grabbing it, almost protectively.

He studies me for several seconds, the sunlight making his cheekbones and jawline even more prominent. Even over FaceTime, he looks as if his features were chiseled by Michaelangelo himself. Damn him. "Why are you wearing it?" He asks, his voice cautious.

"Idunknow," I shrug and slur. "Wearing it makes me feel like you're with me."

His eyes soften instantly and I can tell he's trying to hide a smile as his eyes drop to the ground, his overall expression a conflicting mixture of sadness and happiness. "I'm glad you like it," he remarks lightly, suddenly standing up and changing the subject. "Check this out."

He flips the camera around, allowing me to see the view out the window.

He's about five stories above a clean, tree-lined street, which is absolutely quaint in the soft winter sun. Stunning Gothic style buildings of aged, creme-colored stone stand proudly along the road as a smartly dressed couple strolls arm in arm down the sidewalk, laughing with steaming coffees in their gloved hands.

In the distance, the Eiffel Tower rises over the old buildings, its dark metal standing out against the clear blue sky.

"Wow," I breathe, completely taken by the view. "I wouldn't be able to focus on anything, knowing all that was right out my window."

"It's pretty amazing," he replies, flipping the camera back around as he flops into the armchair again. "So... have you gotten anything in the mail?"

"I haven't been outside all break," I giggle. "So I have no idea."

"You should check," he grins, looking adorably boyish.

"Fine," I mumble, putting my phone face down on the comforter for a moment so he can't see me roll naked out of bed to don a silky bathrobe and slide on fluffy slippers.

"Hey, bring me with you!" He laughs, his voice muffled by the blankets.

I grab my phone before exiting my room, silently plodding down the dark stairwell.

"Where are you staying? It looks really nice," I whisper-ask as I open the front door and stumble into the bitter night air, my eyes zeroing in on the mailbox.

"Mom and dad bought a flat here several years ago," Jayce answers, taking a sip from a mug. "It's where they stay when they have business here."

"Cool," I nod, not really paying attention as I open the mailbox, fishing out a rectangular package that just barely fits inside.

Rushing back to my room to get out of the freezing fucking cold, I rip the package open, curiosity gripping me.

"Your photo helped solidify my internship," Jayce explains, his voice slow and sweet.

Unrolling a glossy magazine with the words À La Mode scrawled across the top, I let out a gasp, dropping it on my comforter as my own eyes stare back at me from the cover.

"Felipe called me the second he saw it," Jayce runs his fingers through his curls. "Said he wanted to use it for the cover of the December issue, and that he couldn't wait to work with me. He wants to meet you one day. He thinks you're the most stunning thing he's seen since Emilie Kristiansen."

"Who the hell is that?" I mutter, still only half-listening as I gaze at myself on the cover of a damn magazine.

"Emilie Kristiansen is Layla's mother, actually," he replies, his voice almost apologetic. "Small world, right? She's an extremely famous Parisian model that a lot of people regard as the most beautiful woman in the world. To be compared to her is a huge compliment, especially when it's from Felipe. He's really critical... But I think she doesn't even come close to you. You're on a completely different level," he flips his curls out of his enchanting brown eyes. "It'd be like comparing a pebble to a diamond."

My heart thumps as my intoxicated brain slowly processes his words. I will never get tired of being complimented by him.

"When are you coming back?" I ask suddenly, surprised by my own question. There's a hint of strained desperation in my betraying voice.

"Just a few more days," he smiles. "I convinced my parents to throw a New Year's Eve party at their house. You're invited, of course. I'd love to see you."

"Yeah? What makes you think I want to celebrate New Year's Eve at your parent's house?" I question suspiciously, though I can feel heat in my cheeks.

"Well," he drawls, something playful passing over his features, "it's also my birthday... and all I want is to see you. So, you sort of have to come," he bats his eyelashes teasingly. "Unless you want to crush my dreams on my birthday, that is."

I roll my eyes, unable to keep the smile from my lips. "I don't answer to you, Jayce Solis."

"I know," he adopts a nonchalant tone, though he's still smiling like a goof. "See you then, okay?"

"Okay," I agree accidentally, my response purely automatic. He hangs up the call, leaving me to lay back against my pillows, heart racing with excitement as my drunk brain fills with Jayce-fantasies.

Talking to him had been way easier than I expected. The fact that he hadn't mentioned me rejecting him took me by surprise... for the millionth time, I reconsider my actions from that night.

Maybe I had been foolish, made my decision too rashly, too emotionally.

After all, I could talk to him about anything. I trusted him. Just a glimpse of him turned me on. Aren't those the most important components of a good relationship?

Maybe I shouldn't have written him off.

Maybe he deserved a chance.

I've never been in a real relationship before, and I don't think he has, either. But somehow, I bet Jayce and I would be able to figure out a way to make it work. I smile and my heart races as my stomach turns inside out.

I'll go to his party, I decide. I have to tell him that I want to take the chance.

My phone dings with a flirty text that sends my heart soaring, confirming every thought I just had:

Maybe Christmas isn't so bad, after all.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

If you celebrate it, that is. 😉 half of my family does, and the other half doesn't, but regardless of what you prefer/believe in, I hope you're having a great week!

After the last update, I hope this chapter warmed your lil heart! ❤️ Tap the ⭐️ to vote!

JAYLON IS INCHING CLOSER AND CLOSER TO BEING REAL GUYZ. IM FREAKIN OUT. THEY'VE COME SO FAR, OUR PRECIOUS BBYS. :')

So I've been getting a lot of requests for spin-offs... so I'm curious, what characters/storylines would you want to learn more about if I do any spin offs??

Also check out this cover that the lovely ninarueda made for this book! Thanks again, love. I adore it. You're amazing ! Xx

Next chap is in the works... 😏

Love you 😘 READ ON !