6. Sewing + Surprises

Part 1/3 for this update!

Around 3am, I'm snipping fabric, sewing furiously and downing coffee while bopping to "Would You Mind" by PRETTYMUCH.

Presley walks sleepily into my room, her eyes half closed.

When she sees me she perks up immediately. "You're home!" She chirps. She quickly scrunches her eyebrows together. "Actually, boo... I was hoping you'd end up spending the night with Jayce." She plops onto my bed, clearly bummed that I wasn't currently entangled in a mess of sweat and lust with the hot goalie.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but as I've said many times, that's never going to happen," I tell her frankly, recalling that just a handful of hours ago I was literally straddling him. She's going to die when I tell her. Then slap me repeatedly.

"Oh, please," She rolls onto her side to face me, propping up her hand with her hand. "There's undeniable chemistry between you guys, and I swear, when he was here earlier I could've cut the sexual tension like butter."

I roll my eyes, preparing for the impending lecture that will occur when I tell her how I finally drew a boundary line with him.

As I tell her everything that happened at the vineyard, her expression moves from anticipation to shock to pride and comes to an end on annoyance.

"I think we need to scan your brain for deformities, because there's clearly something wrong up there," Presley says with a furrowed brow when I finish my story. "Who in the right mind would turn down Jayce Solis?!" She throws herself down dramatically on the pillows, exasperated.

"I don't know how many times I need to remind of you this little fact, Pres... I do not want to sleep with Jayce."

"Says the girl who straddled him to quote, 'Prove a point.' I am proud of you for that though, I might have to use that move on Cole," she giggles, throws her hands in the air and yells, "RIDE THAT BOY LIKE A STALLION!"

"It worked, though," I defend. "And it wasn't for any purpose other than to show him that I can and will resist him. I wanted him to know that this female isn't going to open up her legs at his beck and call."

"You're impossible," she sighs and flips her dark hair over her shoulder. "You know, as your best friend, I like to think that I can see what's best for you, even if you can't. And I think that a little fling with the bad boy that's literally going crazy to get his hands on you might do you good."

"I'm not talking to you about this anymore," I grumble, starting to get annoyed that she won't drop it.

"You know that your teasing and denial of him just adds fuel to his fire, right?"

"I disagree. He was thoroughly disinterested in me when I told him we shouldn't hang out anymore. Trust."

"C'mon, Fal!" She lets out a laugh of disbelief. "You're not an idiot, you know how guys like Jayce are. He might seem down and out for a moment, but once he gets the chance to lick his wounds, he's right back in the game! Hell, I bet he's going to make his mission for the rest of the year getting you to beg for him."

"That's disgusting." Even though I've repeatedly put him in his place, I have to admit that for some reason, I like the idea of him pining for me, and I hate that I do. I promise myself that if Presley is right, and Jayce doesn't let me go, that I will make him work harder than he's ever had to before - and he will still never get his hands on me.

"Trust me," Presley's voice is serious. "If I know anything about men, I know that you haven't stopped anything. You've actually just made the game even more appealing for him."

I know she's right. Part of me wonders if this entire time, I was subconsciously exacerbating the situation on purpose. I know I love having his attention, which that alone is inexplicable and mega lame. I've never been one to care much about guys' attention.

At the same time, I also know that I'm committed to my future and I don't like the idea that I could be subconsciously egging Jayce on by dodging him, but I've already dug my heels far enough into the hill of resisting his advances. I refuse to give in to him now. I'm too stubborn and resolute for that.

If he's truly intent on getting me to want him and I'm truly intent on not letting him have me... This year might just end up being a little too interesting for my liking.

~

By 4:40pm, my hair is in a ballerina bun on top of my head, I'm in my underwear desperately trying to finish up the hem of my Tinkerbell costume and my head is pounding from the sleepless night and excessive caffeine.

If I make it through this birthday without falling asleep, dropping cake or cussing someone out it will have been an extremely successful day.

I finally finish up the last couple stitches, pull the green dress off my sewing machine and slip it on. I had stayed up all night working on this damn Tinkerbell costume, and now that I'm seeing it on, I'm actually pretty impressed with my handiwork.

The dress fits me perfectly, and even though it's strapless, tight and short, I somehow still managed to keep it appropriate enough for a little girl's birthday party. Proud.

I slide on my green flats, grab the set of wings and my bag and run to my car. I punch the address into my phone as I back out, praying it won't be too far away. Thankfully, GPS says I'm 17 minutes from the address.

After Presley had gone home around 8am, I had launched into full blown work mode, realizing I had about eight hours remaining to finish a costume, which can sometimes take me weeks. But alas, here I was, right on time.

The path the GPS is taking me is extremely familiar, and before long, I'm pulling into the same driveway Jayce had taken me to yesterday, except the large metal gates are open this time.

My stomach tightens as I pass through the gates and wind my way up the drive and I realize I'm probably going to be coming face-to-face with the people whose land Jayce and I trespassed on last night. I park in front of the large, cream-colored villa. Stepping out of my grubby car, I'm immediately in awe of this home. It stands tall and proud, like a regal monarch, yet it exudes a feeling of warm welcome and homeliness at the same time.

I dash inside, not allowing myself to spend too much time staring in wonder at the stunning work of architecture. As soon as I enter the home, a breathtaking woman dressed in a white pantsuit and impossibly high white heels approaches me. Her thick, shining brown hair falls to her waist and her naturally tan skin glows against the white of her suit. She has laugh line indents around her mouth and wrinkles around her brown eyes, where they would crinkle when she smiled.

"I'm Celeste," her flowing, beautiful Hispanic accent greets me, along with a dazzling smile. "You must be the Party Princess," she bends down to embrace me in a welcoming hug, the warm smell of vanilla filling my nostrils. I feel like I've been blessed by a she-elf queen. "You're right on time. Vámonos," she smiles again and waves her hand in a 'follow me' motion as she sashays through the impeccably decorated house.

I feel like I'm following a living, breathing angel.

As we step outside into the massive backyard, I'm greeted by at least one hundred adult guests dressed to the nines and dozens of little kids running around in suits and dresses. The tables are brimming with brightly colored foods and the sprawling lawn boasts with extravagant horse-shaped water features, all types of lawn games, several pink balloon arches and exotic flower arrangements. Farther away from the house, I even spotted a flawless, live white horse and a hedge maze. A huge pink cake sits next to a pile of presents that's taller than me and there even appears to be a couple reporters and photographers weaving in between the guests.

And this party is for Celeste's niece. I wonder what the parties for her own kids are like.

Who the hell are these people anyway? Who has reporters at a little girl's birthday party?

"My niece's name is Aimee and she's turning seven," Celeste says in her flowy accent as she points to a little brunette girl in a poofy pink dress running around on the lawn.

Celeste's accent makes her pronounce 'seven' more like 'seben.' She's a MILF if I ever saw one, that much is for sure.

I nod and smile at the goddess in front of me. "What's her favorite animal?"

"Horses," she replies before flitting off to entertain her guests.

I make my way toward the little girl Celeste had pointed out and start skipping slightly, getting myself into character.

"Happy birthday, Aimee!" I announce with a twirl and a swish of my plastic wand.

The little brunette head whips around and her brown eyes fill with amazement at the sight of me - a reaction I will never get tired of. She's wearing a frilly pink dress, a lopsided golden crown and has a red popsicle stain around her mouth. She's adorable.

"Tinkerbell?!" She exclaims, running forward to throw her arms around me. "I didn't know you were coming to my birthday party!"

I giggle, "Your auntie loves you very much and asked me to come, just for you. I hear you like horses, is that one yours?" I ask, gesturing to the large white steed across the lawn.

She shakes her head back and forth. "No, that one's not mine. Mine is over here. Come on, I'll show you!"

She takes my hand and pulls me around the far side of the massive pool - which has a slide, diving board and multiple enclaves with waterfalls. I bet they barely even use it.

Aimee leads us around a stone horse statue to reveal a man crawling on his his hands and knees with a small boy laughing hysterically on his back. Aimee gestures to the man. "This is my horsie!" She says proudly. "Want to ride him?"

Suddenly the man raises his hands off the ground and lets out a loud neighing sound. My eyes meet his brown ones and -

Oh shit.

It's Jayce.

Jayce is the fucking horse.

How he manages to remain so hot and confident even on his hands and knees, making literal animal noises is completely beyond me.

The little boy topples off Jayce's back and runs away screaming and laughing with joy.

Jayce doesn't even look phased by my presence as he stands up and walks over to Aimee and me, his eyes locking onto mine. I can see in his expression that he's got walls up. What used to be fiery, daring brown eyes are now about as lively as a meeting with an accountant.

"Sorry, Aimee," Jayce says as he reaches us, coming to a stop in front of me, his eyes never leaving mine. "Tink, here, doesn't ride horses - especially not horses like me," he gives me an empty smirk and runs his fingers through his curly hair before scooping Aimee up in his arms. "Let's get you over there so you can start opening your presents!" He doesn't make any further eye contact with me as he carries the squealing little girl toward the mountain of gifts closer toward the house.

What the fuck just happened? Why the hell is Jayce here? And did he seriously just diss me in front of a seven year old?

My mind is reeling as Celeste calls everyone to gather around so Aimee can begin opening her presents. She rips into gift after gift as the bougie guests clap and drink champagne. It's weird. But I smile anyway and give it my best to do and say Tinkerbell-y things.

I'd be lying if I said I was doing an amazing job at ignoring Jayce, who's presence here is still unexplained.

I take in his appearance. He's wearing a bright white Ralph Lauren button up with the sleeves rolled, exposing his smooth, tanned forearms. His skin looks impossibly golden against his white shirt and I can't help but notice his bulging arm muscles beneath the fabric. He's wearing tight, dark jeans, Adidas shoes and a large black watch. An attractive amount of stubble covers his chin and jawline, as I imagine he hasn't shaved since Friday morning. His teeth are perfectly white as he smiles at Aimee. His brown eyes  seem to be effortlessly avoiding my gaze.

Why does this suck so much?

I should be happy, even grateful, that he's doing what I asked - not hanging out with me. Hell, he's not even looking at me. I should be pleased that Presley's theory seems to be wrong. But here I find myself, currently wishing I could have his attention, see that deviant glow in his eyes, feel his fingertips on my skin...

No. Stop.

He's still not looking at me as I walk into the house in a tired daze, mumbling to Celeste that I'm going to use the bathroom. I don't actually have to pee, but I need a couple minutes to get my thoughts together and hopefully call Presley.

I wander into the grandiose home, quickly finding a bathroom off the kitchen and sinking onto the floor as soon as I shut the door. I fish my phone out of my bra and press my thumb into the screen over Presley's name.

"Heyyyy!" She answers cheerily.

"I need to whine," I sigh, leaning the back of my head against the door.

"What's wrong babe?" Her voice instantly snaps into concerned mode and I love her for it.

"Jayce is here," I groan, sliding down the door until I'm sitting on the floor. "Tell me to get over him."

I hear her catch her breath. "Get-over-him-Fallon," she says robotically, sounding incredibly unconvincing, like she's literally having to force the words out of her mouth.

"I mean, he so not worth it, right? Not worth the emotion and inevitable heartbreak?" I wonder aloud, letting my mind go down the path of possibility. I'm annoyed with myself that I even still consider him, especially after the effort I've put into making sure he knows I'm off limits.

Presley scoffs, "He would be so worth it. Like, a million times worth it! I mean, can you imagine his-" her voice sounds dreamy.

"-Pres!" I cut through her sentence. "Not helping."

"Right! Sorry! Um," she flounders. "You have your future to think about! A very important, planned and undistracted, guy-free future!"

"You're right," I shrug, willing myself to regain dedication. "He's hot, but the only thing I'd gain from it is sex. And it'd be sex that would probably have way too fucking many strings attached, considering we're in the same building five days a week."

"Uh huh. Totally," Presley agrees halfheartedly.

"I just need to get through this party and then Jayce and I can go back to never talking and never running into each other, like we have for the past two years. I'll be fine without him - better, actually," I say aloud, mostly because I'm doing everything I can to convince my heart and my body that it does NOT want Jayce Solis, no matter how delectable he looks.

"For sure, Fal," Presley says, probably trying to mask her disappointment, though she's not doing a very good job of it.

"Thanks for the pep talk, Pres. I've got this," I jam the end button before she can reply and stuff my phone back in my bra before yanking the bathroom door open.

I walk determinedly back toward the party, only to be greeted by a large, shirtless figure hunching over the kitchen sink.

Jayce appears to be scrubbing something pink out of his white shirt - maybe frosting? - but all I can see are golden abs and lats, olive biceps and triceps, tanned traps and... Fuck.

I feel my heart jolt as I rip my eyes away from the god at the kitchen sink and pick up my pace, doing my best to walk silently out the back door. A light, anxious sweat bursts across my palms and the back of my neck. I'm about to turn the door handle when I hear Jayce's voice.

"What in the hell are you doing here?"

~~~

Why you gotta be so rude, J?

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This is 1/3 of a 3 part update, so read on for more!

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