Coming Up For Air | ✓

16 | coming up for air

Stella finds Jake stood by the stove, wearing a black t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants, spatula in hand.

Stepping into the kitchen—her own pajama pant-legs grazing the floorboards—she's hit by a whiff of the sweet greasy aroma having traveled all the way to the upstairs. The very reason she knew where to steer her steps upon emerging from the bathroom in the first place.

She lets her fingers run along the marbled top of the kitchen island, an unintentional sigh-sounding breath escaping her lips as she leans her hip against the counter.

It's only the two of them in the house; Angelina and Geoffrey are out for dinner with their colleagues turned friends, just as Jake and Stella had been out with their friends earlier tonight, before their plans were ultimately cut short.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jake puts the spatula aside and gets one of the green cupboards open. He fills a glass of water before sliding it across the island to Stella.

"How are you feeling?"

Stella shrugs, fingers closing around the glass of water—the surface cold beneath her fingertips. Trying for a smile, though it barely reaches her eyes, she lifts the glass to her lips. "Better."

The minty taste of her toothpaste comes out in a cloud of breath as she grimaces against the rim of her drink. Faint humor dances over her apologetic lips.

"Sorry I got puke on you."

Relief flickers across Jake's features at the sight of her small smile and—smiling as well—he waves his hand dismissively as he turns back to the stove. "Do you want to call someone? Faye? Your moms?"

"I'm supposed to talk to Faye later tonight," Stella says, twirling her newly showered damp hair into a bun at the back of her head—her shampoo's flowery sweet hyacinth scent tickling her nose. "We'll speak about it then."

Jake nods, and as he faces her again, he presents her with a plate—two grilled cheese sandwiches stacked upon it.

"I took the liberty of making you something to eat," He sets the plate down, regarding Stella as she leans back against the opposite counter. "They may not be masterpieces like yours, but at least it's something."

Stella's throat tightens as the corners of her mouth pull up once. "They're perfect," Her gaze flickers from the small splotch of melted cheese having spilled onto the plate to Jake—who's been nothing but helpful the past hours. "Thank you."

"Of course," Jake's gaze lingers on her for a beat, his concern visible even through his faint smile. Crossing the room, he yanks the door to the refrigerator open and emerges with a pitcher of iced tea. "Want some?"

Stella's smile softens as she rolls her lips together and nods. "That'd be nice, yeah."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Sat crosslegged on the living room couch, Stella bites down on her lip as she stares at the last piece of grilled cheese pinched between her fingers. "You looked it up."

Jake glances up from the brownish liquid swimming around his glass of iced tea at Stella's sudden interruption of their comfortably silence, seeming genuinely confused—a small crease appearing between his brows—as he regards her from his seat in the opposite end of the couch. "What?"

"You knew," Stella's chest heaves with her deep inhale, her exhale coming out shorter as she continues to speak. "That it was him. Marcus,"

Only letting the name spill off her tongue has bile creeping back up her throat and she's quick to shove the last piece of toast into her mouth, letting the now lukewarm cheese melt on her tongue along the crumbs of bread, setting the plate back on the coffee table as she swallows hard.