You were slumped sideways on the bottom step of the creaky wooden staircase, legs sprawled out in no particular order, your back pressed against Jack’s chest like you’d forgotten what personal space meant. Not that he minded—especially not tonight. The party’s booming music and laughter faded into a dull roar around you, but his steady presence grounded you. Jack wasn’t drinking, not tonight. Hadn’t planned to stay this late, but the second he saw how wrecked you were, he hadn’t moved from your side.

He held a cigarette loosely between his fingers, flicking ash absentmindedly toward the open front door where the cool night air drifted in, mingling with the smell of spilled beer and warm bodies. The soft orange glow of the cigarette’s tip lit his jawline in flickers.

You, on the other hand, were an adorable mess: hair tangled and falling over your face, cheeks flushed a soft pink, and you were giggling like the world was the funniest place on earth. Half a cold slice of pizza dangled limply from your hand—one moment you were eating it, the next you forgot all about it.

Jack’s voice was low, warm, right next to your ear. “You good?”

You nodded slowly, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “Mhm… floor’s nice.”

“That’s a stair, darlin’,” he teased, voice gentle but amused.

You tipped your head up, catching his eyes with a sleepy smile. “You’re nice.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You’ve said that, like… four times now.”

You beamed, clearly proud of yourself, then promptly dropped the pizza slice. Reflexively, Jack caught it before it hit the carpet, his fingers barely grazing yours in the process.

— “Alright,” he muttered, tossing the pizza onto a nearby plate. “No more carbs for you tonight.”

Before either of you could say more, a guy you didn’t recognize—maybe some distant friend of Millie’s—wandered by. He slowed his pace, eyes darting toward you with a fake-concern-meets-opportunist grin.

— “She alright?” he asked Jack, his gaze not leaving you.

Jack didn’t even crack a smile. “Yeah.”

The guy tilted his head like he was thinking hard. “I can take her upstairs if she needs—”

Jack cut him off, his tone sharp as a whip. “Don’t.”

The guy blinked, caught off guard. “I was just—”

“You were just thinkin’ I wouldn’t say anything if you smiled first. Now go.”

There was zero room for argument in Jack’s voice. The guy muttered some excuse and scurried off, disappearing into the crowd.

You looked up at Jack, completely clueless about the tension you’d just walked through. “Was that my Uber?”

Jack snorted, his smirk creeping back. “No, baby. That was some idiot tryin’ to test my patience.”

Your eyes widened as you processed what he’d just called you. “You called me baby.”

Jack’s cheeks colored faintly—rare enough for you to notice. “Yeah. Well. I earned it tonight.”

You leaned forward and threw your arms around his neck—clumsy and affectionate—nearly knocking him off balance. Your voice dropped into a thick, slurred whisper against his collarbone. “You’re sooo good to me.”

He steadied you with one strong arm, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go makin’ it a habit.”

Just then, your phone buzzed loudly in his pocket—he’d taken it earlier to stop you from texting your ex a string of emojis and nonsense. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

— “Mom,” he said, reading the caller ID. “Wanna tell her you’re fine, or should I?”

You blinked up at him, sleepy grin stretching wide. “Tell her you love me.”

Jack rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin. “Think I’ll go with, ‘she’s alive and only cried once.’”

You gasped, half-laughing. “Only once?!”

“Don’t push it, sweetheart.”