Happy Place || A Jerrie Fanfiction

XVII - FOR THE FIRST TIME

"Poor guy," I mutter underneath my breath, watching as a portly man hesitate to step inside as he spots the sign, before sighing dejectedly, whirling on his heels and trudging away with his hands in his pockets. I turn my body back towards the table and snap the lid of my drink open before slipping a straw inside. I glance at Perrie. "How many guys had to walk away in shame after seeing the sign?"

"He's probably the seventh guy this morning," she replies, chuckling afterwards. She flicks her eyes from the sign to me. And it's hard not to notice how her gaze softens instantly. "How's your morning, by the way?"

I promptly break eye contact at the question, fixating my attention on the huts lining the middle of the beach occupied by families. I shrug my shoulders coolly. "Good. You?"

"Perfect."

My eyes betray me as they meet her ocean blue ones. Her gaze didn't waver when I decide to challenge it. I could almost see myself reflected in her blue orbs. Once again, there's this warm, tingly feeling in my stomach - something that I haven't felt in a while since . . . since whatever. And I couldn't help but think that maybe I'm the reason why her morning is perfect right now.

Christ.

Being a celebrity perhaps does make one narcissistic, huh? Immediately, I extricate myself from these thoughts and incline my head down to take a sip of the fresh and cool Coca-Cola drink that I once endorsed during my fledgling days.

Perrie clears her throat and crosses her arms in front of her chest. I look up to see that her gaze hardened.

"I want to talk about last week," she starts. Then with a flash of uncertainty across her facial features, she quickly adds, "if it's alright with you."

Her face suddenly flushes at the suddenness, and I would actually bask in her mortification and her florid face if it wasn't for the dread that crept up within my skin.

Last week.

In my head, a plethora of events that had transfigured last week pops up one by one in quick succession - and I couldn't help but notice that Perrie is in all of them. The moment she stood up for me when the two women talked trash about me behind my back; the moment she confessed that she's the freaking owner of the restaurant that I am in right now (I take a mental note to ask Perrie about this in the future); the moment she confessed that if it wasn't for my fame, she'd kiss me right away.

And then that moment.

Memories of that moment remained fresh and vivid in my mind. It almost felt like it just happened yesterday. I could almost remember the feeling of her soft and slender fingers wrapping around my forearm, firm but gentle; the way she hauled me closer to her; her propinquity, her lavender scent, her intense gaze. And I could almost feel the tension that happily accompanied us during that particular moment.

All those things happened last week . . . but what the hell was she referring to?

As if to answer my unspoken question, Perrie answers me, "It's about Caitlyn, by the way."

Instantly, the proverbial glass shatters.

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I say, "Ah - that one."

Perrie's blue eyes skim over my face, and I pray that she wouldn't notice how I am profusely blushing in embarrassment right now. Although from the glint in her eyes, I am pretty sure she already did.

"Now," she starts carefully, considering her words. Her manicured fingers tugging at the hem of her black shirt's sleeve. "I've been raising Caitlyn practically all my life, for your information."