im so excited to update more omg :c there's a lot of shit coming aaaaAAAA

let me know what you think, i love reading comments!

*

Andy can't tell him.

Kat taps her fingernails on Andy's untouched book. "I thought we were here, in this study hall, to study."

She's right. "I am," she defends herself weakly, pulling the book in front of her. She clears her throat. "I'm studying."

Her friend nods. "You want to talk about what's bothering you? Last week, you wouldn't even reply to any of my texts. You look better but still spaced out."

Andy swallows down the sudden guilt rising up in her chest. She scrunches her nose. "It's nothing. Boy problems, I guess." A small laugh escapes her lips. "It's stupid."

Kat scoffs and leans back against her chair. "Man, you're so painstakingly obvious when you two fight."

Andy grimaces. "I'm well-aware."

"You shouldn't let that shit affect you too much," Kat says, crossing her arms. "You'll depend on the relationship and then you'll have nothing to fall back on. Answer my messages, okay, dimwit?"

Andy grins. "Noted for future reference." She checks the time on her watch and scrambles to her feet. "I'll treat you to coffee after class on Monday, 'kay? I have to go meet someone."

The blue-haired girl waves her hand dismissively. "Bye."

Andy grabs her things and blows her a kiss.

Bash is already waiting for her at Baked!. She hasn't seen him since the incident with her period, and, like all her other friends, ignored his calls and messages. Kat's right—she shouldn't let her fights with Rhysand affect her so much. It makes her feel...guilty. And uneasy.

Thankfully, Bash doesn't look mad. He smiles widely once he sees Andy enter the bakeshop. "Hey."

"Hi," Andy says back, taking a seat across from him. "First of all, I'm so sorry about what happened that day. And thank you for the clothes and for everything else."

"I told you not to mention it," he says, still wearing that friendly smile, that Andy heaves a sigh of relief. "But, ah, are you and Rhysand okay?"

Andy wants to groan. "Yes, fine now, thank you. And I'm sorry for not getting back to you. I was...not in the best of moods."

Bash raises both his eyebrows. "I got that. I'm glad you're fine, Andy."

"Thank you." She reaches inside her bag and takes out his clothes. "Here. All washed and ironed. Thank you."

He sighs. "I was hoping you'd keep them."

Andy's shoulders drop. "Bash."

"I know, I know, sorry, that slipped out," her friend says in a rush, reaching over to take the clothes from her. He looks at her and purses his lips. "Don't disappear like that again. I was worried, but Johann said you were fine when he visited. I was in training then. S'why I couldn't come."

Andy nods. "I won't. Nothing to be worried about, though. I'm fine."

Bash nods, too. "Piper was bummed you couldn't come out for Halloween."

"I know, I told her I'll make it up to her. Drinks are on me next time."

Bash grins. There's a twinkle in his eye when he says, "I'll remember you said that. Are you heading in for work now?"

"Ah, no," Andy says, standing and shouldering her bag. She sends Bash a sheepish smile. "I'm just picking something up. I'll see you in class, okay?"

He waves at her. "Don't be a stranger."

"I won't!" She waves back and heads inside the kitchen. She takes out a small, congratulatory cheesecake from the refrigerator—it's a favor she asked her co-worker earlier that morning. Peeking inside the box, Andy smiles. She hopes Rhysand likes it.

If she runs, she'll be able to catch the bus in five minutes. Andy doesn't care what the cold wind does to her face and hair—she needs to catch that bus.

Rhysand went to Sterling today to go over the contract and its terms, and Andy's excited to hear all about it. He should be on his way home now, but if Andy catches the bus, she'd arrive there first to surprise him with his congratulatory cake and gift.

She makes it with less than a minute to spare. At home, she scrambles to take off her shoes and dumps her bag on the sofa. In the dining room, Jenner is seated on the table, concentrated on the screen of his laptop. He barely looks up when Andy sets the cake in front of him and mutters, "Hey, you."

"Hi," she says between breaths, opening the box. "Is Rhysand near?"

"I think so."

Andy throws the box somewhere in the kitchen and sticks the candles in the cake. "Please light this for me, babe."

Jenner shoots her a flat look. "Why do we need a cake for Rhysand's contract-signing?"

"Because it's an amazing job offer and Rhysand deserves it!" Andy argues, smoothing down her hair with her palms. "How do I look?"

Jenner spares her a glance before lighting the candles. "You look fine. As always, Rhysand doesn't care. Oh, by the way." Her friend leans back against his chair and shoots her a knowing grin. "Rhysand said the three holy words already."

Andy flushes. "Don't."

"Why—"

"Jenner—"

"—haven't you said it back?" he demands, slapping a hand on the table that it makes Andy flinch. "It may seem like Rhysand doesn't care, but he's nervous."

Andy blinks at him. "Nervous? About what?"

"About you not feeling the same way, dumbass," Jenner says, clicking his tongue. "I know him. I'm the one that knows him best."

She takes a deep breath. "He shouldn't be."

"Then tell him."

"For some reason, I can't just yet," Andy explains, rubbing the nape of her neck. "I'm sure of my feelings. But my throat closes up whenever I think about it, so don't pressure me—"

There's the sound of the Jeep coming in the driveway. Rhysand's back.

Andy shoots him a glare. "Shut your mouth about those three holy words. No teasing, okay?"

Jenner shrugs and pretends to zip his lips and throw the key.

When Rhysand comes in, his eyebrows raise. "Hey," he says, taking off his shoes. He steps inside the house and blinks at Andy. "You're here early."

"How did it go?" she asks excitedly, clasping her hands in front of her.

Rhysand tosses his bag on the sofa, shoves his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and walks towards them. He raises an eyebrow at the cake. "What's this for?"

"Answer me first," Andy demands, almost in a whine.

The corner of Rhysand's lips twitch. "Good. I liked the terms. I liked the building."

"So you signed it," Jenner says.

"'Course I signed it," Rhysand answers with a scoff. "The pay's fuckin' good, too."

"Yay!" Andy yells, throwing her arms around his neck. It surprises Rhysand so much that he staggers back a step with a grunt, but he wraps his arms around Andy's waist immediately so she doesn't fall. "I'm so happy for you! When do you start? What would you do? Will you have your creative freedom this time?"

"Slow down, sunshine," he says, amused. "I know you're excited. I'll tell you everything."

Andy pulls back with a grin and kisses him quickly on the lips. "Congratulations," she mumbles, then kisses him again. "I'm proud of you."

"Jesus," Jenner mutters from somewhere behind them. "Why am I always the fucking third wheel?"

Rhysand stares at her. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"Okay, blow this out, please," Andy tells him, bringing the cake to his face. "Make a wish."

"It's not my birthday."

"For me, please?"

Rhysand shakes his head, but takes the cake anyway. "So fucking polite," he mutters before blowing out the candles.

Andy and Jenner clap and cheer.

"Okay, come with me." Andy grabs his wrist and starts pulling him towards the stairs.

Jenner whistles. "Don't be too loud—"

"Shut up," Rhysand snaps at him before he can finish his sentence, hurriedly passing him the cake and following Andy up the steps. "Sunshine, what's this about?"

Andy shushes him and pulls his arm, with maximum effort, to his room. Then, she tells him, "Close your eyes. No opening until I say so."

Rhysand hangs his head back. "Oh, no," he says, groaning. "No, not another gift."

Andy pouts at his reaction. "You haven't even seen it yet and you already don't like it."

"Sanford, I—"

"Close your eyes, please."

Rhysand presses his lips together and does as she says.

Andy grins and heads towards the closet. She opens one of his drawers and stretches her arm out to reach for the package hidden behind the clothes. She bought it way back when Rhysand first told her about Sterling contacting him, and now that he signed the contract, it seems like the best time to give it to him. She hopes he likes it.

Andy stands in front of Rhysand with the box in her hands. She takes a deep breath. "Okay, open them."

Rhysand takes the box reluctantly, a blank expression on his face.

She clears her throat. "I just thought it would be a nice gift because you deserve it. And I wanted to get you something you'd use for your new job."

"I can already tell this is something expensive."

"It's not."

"You can't lie for shit."

"Whatever!" Andy sputters, growing defensive. "Just—open it and tell me if you hate it."

"I could never hate anything from you," Rhysand says, pulling the ribbon and the box open. His statement makes Andy blush.

Then his eyes widen, and he looks back at her. "This is an AF-MX3."

Andy's impressed he knew that just by a small peek. She smiles sheepishly. "Uh, the clerk said this was the best? For, uh, a music producer. So that's what I got."

Rhysand stares at her. "Jesus Christ."

Andy blinks. "Huh?"

"This is insane," Rhysand says. Andy can't read his expression or his tone—"What were you thinking?"

Okay—he sounds mad. Incredulous. Andy bites her lip. "I—that you'd like it?" she whispers, fiddling with the hem of her blouse, "that it would be perfect for you? I don't know—do you hate it?"

Rhysand exhales heavily and closes the box. He meets her eyes. "This costs a lot."

"I know," Andy answers in a small voice, thinking it would piss off Rhysand more if she said it wasn't. "It's not a big deal—"

"The watch wasn't a big deal, too," Rhysand says flatly. "This is—how much of your money did you spend just to get me this?"

"That doesn't matter!" Andy argues desperately. It doesn't. It really doesn't. "Can't you just accept it and thank me?"

"Sanford," Rhysand says quietly. He looks so confused. Andy doesn't understand why. "I don't—I don't deserve this. You should be using your money to buy some shit for yourself. Clothes, books, nuggets—I don't know. This just..." A sigh. "This makes me feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

Andy swallows the lump in her throat. "Did you ask me to buy this for you? Did you tell me to go to the store and pay for it with my own money?"

Rhysand steps forward. "Sunshine—"

"I understand that you don't want to be like Luke," Andy says, hugging herself. She suddenly feels so small. "You aren't. You're nothing like him, okay? I wanted to do this for you. And you reacting like that makes me feel like shit because you seem like you hate it. And that's fine, if you don't like it, it's fine, I'll change it to something else—"

"That's not the fucking point," Rhysand says sternly, eyebrows drawn together. He puts the box down on the bed with a loud thud. "I don't hate it, when did I say I hate it?"

"You're mad!"

"I'm not mad because I hate it, Jesus, fuck," Rhysand snaps, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just frustrated because this is expensive as shit and I feel guilty because I don't deserve it—"

"We just made up! Why are we fighting over a damn gift?" Andy yells, voice breaking. "And stop saying you don't deserve it, it makes me want to hit you on the head or something! I got this for you because I wanted to and because I think you do deserve it, can't you just thank me? Is that so hard to do?"

Rhysand stares at her, quiet for a moment. Then, he asks, "Why are you crying?"

"Because this was a happy day and you ruined it!" Andy answers, sniffling and wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "You keep scolding me for every single thing I get you and it makes me feel like you—"

"You're such a crybaby," Rhysand says, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her body. Andy buries her head on his shoulder. "Stop crying."

"You're so annoying," Andy whines, hitting his chest two, three times. "I can't believe you got mad over a gift—"

"I can't believe you swore," Rhysand counters, rubbing her back soothingly. "I'm sorry I ruined it. I'm not used to getting gifts, okay?"

Andy sniffles and clutches the back of his shirt. "Get used to it, then. And thank me properly."

Rhysand pulls back—just a little—to drop a sweet kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, sunshine," he murmurs. "I love it. I love you. Stop crying."

Andy's chest tightens.

I love you too, she wants to say. Oh, how desperately she wants to say it.

But the words won't leave her lips.

Rhysand pulls back and cups her face. He's not smiling, but there's amusement in his eyes as he stares at Andy. "Can I tell you about Sterling now?"

Andy nods and drags him toward the bed. She pushes Rhysand far up the headboard, and Andy stretches her legs behind her, lying on her stomach with her chin in her hands. "Yes, please."

He hooks his pinky with hers. "I'll have to go to the building every weekday. I have my own studio, and it's huge. I'll have my freedom in producing and writing tracks, but I'm going to work with artists, too—they have their own vision and shit, so it's a lot of team collaboration with them, and of course I'll be working with other producers—"

"Artists from Sterling?" Andy repeats, eyes wide. "Oh my God, are you going to work with Just Jupiter?"

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. "Are you excited for my job or for a singer?"

"Rhys!" Andy lunges forward, hovering on top of Rhysand, knees on either side of his hips. She clutches the front of his hoodie with a wide grin, and her boyfriend sits there, stunned. "Please please please let me meet him—"

"Slow down," he tells her, obviously amused, "I'm not sure yet about working with him. But it's a possibility."

"But if it does happen—"

"If it does happen," Rhysand says, raising an eyebrow, "why would I let my girlfriend meet someone she's crazy about?"

Andy's shoulders drop. She glares at Rhysand. "I'm not crazy about him, I'm just a fan—"

"Well, be my fan first."

"I am!" Andy says, laughing. "You're so annoying!"

The corner of Rhysand's lips turn up into a smile. He grabs Andy's hands and intertwines their fingers together. "If it happens, I'll see what I can do."

Andy grins so widely her cheekbones hurt. She leans forward, wraps her arms around his neck and drops a quick kiss on his mouth. "Thank you. I'll hold you to that."

Rhysand's hands trace the skin of her waist. He looks up at her. "You should do that more often."

Andy blinks. "Do what?"

"Kiss me first."

Andy hits his shoulder. "You're trying to embarrass me again."

"I'm not," Rhysand says, tightening his hold on her when she tries to move away. Softly, he asks, "Kiss me again?"

Andy flushes. She cups his face. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Very lucky."

"And I'm happy for you," she mumbles, lowering her body onto his, "I'm proud of you. And I'm excited that you're going to do what you love." She doesn't give him a chance to respond before she's kissing him, like he asked.

Andy doesn't think the summer rain feeling in her chest will ever go away when she kisses Rhysand—hot, light, pattering, sweet, desperate to pour and fall.

Rhysand's hand slides around the nape of her neck, and Andy moves forward, letting her lips fall open until she can taste the cigarettes in his mouth.

She gasps when Rhysand's hand tightens on her hip, pressing their bodies together. And then Rhysand traces the veins on her neck with his lips—he likes doing that, Andy notes at the back of her head, clutching Rhysand's shoulders—he likes tasting her skin, likes scraping his teeth over it, hard enough to bruise, likes sucking it—like he wants to leave the imprint of his mouth on her skin. He likes doing this until she's breathless.

Andy slides her hands under his shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of his stomach, and his muscles twitch under her touch—hand tightening around her neck. Rhysand captures her lips again, and greedy, Andy runs her hands over his stomach, his waist, his ribcage, his back—

Her finger runs through a small bump across his spine, and Rhysand—Rhysand actually groans into her mouth—like a breathless whine.

He catches both her wrists in one hand.

Andy pulls back in surprise. "What was that?"

Rhysand's eyes are still closed. "Nothing."

Despite what just happened—and Andy is still winded over it—her curiosity gets the best of her. "Rhys."

Her boyfriend opens his eyes and clears his throat. "I'm, ah, sensitive. There," he says lowly, releasing her hands. "You touched a tattoo."

Andy blinks. "Oh." Oh. Her cheeks were already hot, but his statement made her face flame up even more. They've been together for so many months now, and she'd forgotten Rhysand had tattoos. Tattoos!

"Can I—can I see them?" Andy asks shyly, biting her lip.

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. His hair is a mess. "You haven't seen anything yet but you already like them."

Andy can't deny that. She decides to be honest. "I think it's incredibly attractive. Like your piercings."

His mouth twitches as he stares at her. "You have a thing for tatts and piercings."

"No, I have a thing for you," she corrects him.

Rhysand barks out a laugh. "Jesus."

Andy smiles. "Can I see them?"

Rhysand sits up. "Don't go crazy." He takes his shirt off in one move.

Andy already knew that Rhysand had a great body, but her heart still pounded loudly at the sight. And then Rhysand turns around, and Andy's eyes widen.

The first thing she notices is the line—a straight line of black ink traces his spine, from the middle of his back and down just before the dimples on his skin. Andy's certain this is the tattoo she accidentally touched earlier.

Above the line is a small letter J. And above that, just in line with his shoulders, are two symbols Andy can't read.

"You can touch," Rhysand says.

Andy scoots forward. In fascination, she traces the symbols first with the tip of her finger. "What do these mean?"

Rhysand takes her other hand, wrapping her arm around his middle. Andy barely notices this as she traces the symbol again and again. "My mom is Chinese," Rhysand explains softly. "My middle name is Huang. The letters read hū xī. It means breathe, to breathe, breath. To inhale and exhale. At least, that's what I've been told."

Andy nods, still dazed. This must've been the first tattoo he had.

As if reading her mind, Rhysand says, "It was the first."

Andy nods again. "What about this?" She traces the letter J next.

Rhysand pauses for a moment before answering, "I told you about Jenner."

Andy gasps out loud. "Oh my God. Does he know?"

"No," Rhysand says. "And I don't plan on telling him. He already knows I'm grateful enough. He doesn't need to be burdened with the thought that I have him etched on my skin forever."

Andy can't believe it. "That's...you love him a lot."

Rhysand drops a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm grateful."

Andy can't process this. Rhysand never wears his heart on his sleeve.

Taking a deep breath, she asks, "And this?"

Rhysand's muscles tense when she slowly traces the single line on his spine—posture stiffening, breath catching. With a groan, he says, "Okay, you're not allowed to touch that one."

Andy pulls her hand back. "Why?"

"No touching," he murmurs, catching her wrist. Held by his hands, Andy wraps her arms around his stomach. "Especially while we're making out."

Andy smiles against his shoulder. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know," Rhysand admits, shrugging. "I just thought of it while I was writing lyrics one day. Maybe it's how I see music. I know music has always been my sense of peace. I just felt that this conveyed that best."

Andy aches to touch that one. Thank it, maybe. Andy wants to trace every ink on his skin again—mark them with her lips, seal them with a kiss.

"What're you thinking?" Rhysand asks quietly.

"Did they hurt?" She's curious.

"The line did," he admits with a scoff. "It's a sensitive spot with or without the tattoo."

Andy smiles wider. Noted.

"What're you thinking now?"

She decides to be honest once more. "That I think you're sexy as hell and your heart is so big and that I want to kiss you again."

Rhysand turns around. He's smirking. "I told you not to go crazy."

Andy grins. "I have a thing for tattoos."

"For me," he corrects, before Andy shuts him up with a kiss.