It was something Tucker’s mom had said to him after dinner. Just a passing comment, nothing serious at the time.

You’ll be careful with her, won’t you, Tuck?

At the time, he thought it was her giving her blessing, but now, looking back in the dead of night, his mother was definitely warning him.

Be careful with her.

You were the most unpredictable girl Tucker had ever been with.

Half the time, you were mad at him. Half the time, you didn’t answer his calls. Half the time, you were criticising him.

The other half, you were making him laugh. Cooking him dinner and being his.

You were the most unpredictable girl Tucker had ever been with.

And yet, he was drawn to you.

Right now, you were lying next to him in bed, facing away. You’d just come back from dinner with his parents, the first time you’d met them, and Tucker was worried that you were mad about something or other again.

He knows you’re not right for him. He knows he shouldn’t be with someone who makes him worry this much.

But he loves the chase.

And he loves you.

It’s another thirty minutes of restlessly trying to get to sleep and overthinking before you show any signs of life.

You roll over to face him, and it looks like you haven’t slept, either.

“Hey,” you murmur, your voice no louder than the wind outside the window of your apartment in Boston. “Dinner. It went well, didn’t it?”

Closest thing you’ve shown to vulnerability in a while. It’s stupid, because he’s literally seen you cry, but you’re still guarded when you do. It’s kind of your thing.

And in all honesty, dinner did not go well.

“Went fine,” Tucker rasps back, his voice croaky from disuse. “My… dad likes you.”

He never explicitly said he didn’t, so that was a half truth.

Tucker just needed to please you. He needed to please you so he could stop worrying so much.

If it was just you, there was nothing much he could do.