JJ~3

The house was still when Tess got in. Paul's laugh drifted faintly from the living room—something crap on telly—but otherwise, it was peaceful. She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and wandered into the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from the drizzle outside. Humming tunelessly, she opened the fridge, pulled out eggs, a half-block of cheddar, and started cracking them into a bowl.

She left the pan heating behind her, turned to rinse her hands—and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Fuck!"

Cook was crouched at the kitchen window, knocking quietly. His grin was wide and irritatingly smug.

"Everything alright?" Paul called from the lounge.

"Yep!" Tess shouted back. "Just—burnt myself. It's fine."

She yanked the window open an inch and hissed, "Are you mental?!"

Cook leaned in, unbothered. "Evening, princess."

"You can't just appear at the window!"

Cook tilted his head, infuriatingly calm. "Couldn't exactly use the front door, could I?"

"Try a text? A call?"

"Phone's dead."

Tess scowled. "Again? What happened to that charger I gave you?"

"Ah. Lost it. Or possibly broke it in a game I invented. Hard to say."

"You're such a twat."

He smiled, pleased. "And yet. You're still talking to me."

She slammed the window shut and stalked to the back door, slipping out barefoot into the chilly yard.

Outside, the grass was wet and her socks soaked instantly. "How did you even get in the garden?"

Cook gestured lazily over his shoulder. "Fence."

"You climbed the fence?"

"It's not that tall."

Tess folded her arms. "Why are you here, Cook?"

Cook leaned against the shed like he lived there. "Got out of JJ's hair. Wasn't practical. Tight space, lot going on."

Tess narrowed her eyes. "So now what, you thought my garden was the obvious next stop?"

"Came here because I like it. Also I was cold. And hungry. And I know for a fact your mum gets those fancy biscuits."

"For fucks sake," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "You can't just show up like this every time your life goes to shit."

"I didn't show up every time," he said, matter-of-fact. "This is the first time since—well. A while."

She looked at him for a beat too long, the cold settling in her sleeves.

"Just for a bit," he said, like he was discussing the weather. "I'll be invisible. You won't even know I'm here."

"You're literally never invisible. You're the opposite of that."

"I'm low maintenance, yeah? I can sleep on floors. In cupboards. Bunkers. I'm adaptable."

"You leave crumbs everywhere."

"I'll Hoover."

"You've never Hoovered in your life." Tess folded her arms. "Cook. Seriously. If anyone finds out—Paul, my mum—you can't be here."

"I'll be stealthy," he said, pressing a hand to his heart. "Promise. I'll be a model houseguest."

"You're Cook."

"I can evolve."

She gave him a long, flat look.

"I'll wash dishes," he offered. "I'll do that thing where I dry them too."

"Miraculous."

"I'll take out the bins."

"You don't even know where our bins go."

"I'll learn. I'm teachable."

She sighed, tilting her head back toward the sky.

He softened slightly. "Just for a bit, Tess. No one else I'd rather be annoying."

She glanced at him. He wasn't grinning now. Not fully. There was something quieter in it. Tired, maybe.

"Fine," she muttered.

He perked up. "Really?"

"But, you can't come out of my room. You can't leave anything lying around. You don't talk to Paul, and you don't exist in daylight."

He beamed, doing a fake salute before stepping forward toward the back door.

She grabbed his jacket, pulling him back. "Oi! You can't just waltz in like you own the place."

Cook grinned. "Anyone home?"

"Paul."

"Cool. Love Paul."

"You do not love Paul."

"Well, he's no Nathan."

Tess gave him a warning look, lips twitching despite herself.

"Wait a couple minutes. It'll seem suspicious."

"Right. Smart. Proper stealth mode."

Tess started back toward the house, leaving the door open a crack.

"Oi!" he whisper-called after her. "You do have those biscuits, yeah? The ones with jam in the middle?"

She didn't look back. Just shouted, "Shut up, Cook!"

Paul called from the living room again. "Tess?"

"Still fine!" she called back. "Definitely just...really burnt myself."

Her grin lingered as she walked in, grabbed a plate, and set aside two jammy biscuits.

Maybe three.

Her eggs were cold. She tossed the pan back on the stove, still smiling as she stirred.

----

Tess was slouched sideways on Naomi's sofa, a textbook open on her stomach and a half-scribbled psychology revision sheet flopped beside her.

Emily's voice murmured something faint from the hallway. Tess glanced toward the door. She hadn't come in. She hadn't said much at all since Tess got there.

"You two were meant to be revising," Emily had said earlier, her voice distant, like she already knew they wouldn't be.

Tess let out a quiet breath and went back to underlining the same sentence she'd already read twice.

"This is actual psychological torture," she muttered, nudging a highlighter across the coffee table with one finger.

Naomi was on the floor, her back against the couch, books open but completely ignored. "Which one's killing you—Freud or fucking Sylvia?"

Tess let out a groan."Both. Freud thinks I fancy my dad, Plath thinks I should off myself. It's a tie, honestly.

Naomi huffed a laugh, then reached behind her and pulled out a suspiciously familiar bottle from under a blanket. "Well, I've got a solution. Bit of liquid apathy. Works wonders."

Tess raised an eyebrow. "You day drinking now?"

Naomi twisted the cap, made a face. "I've been night drinking, morning drinking, post-shower drinking, pre-brush-your-teeth drinking. It's the fucking apocalypse in my head, alright?"

She offered it over, but Tess held up a hand. "I can't."

Naomi paused, caught herself. "Oh. Right. Shit. Sorry."

She took a swig herself, winced, then reached into her back pocket and retrieved a crumpled cigarette. "What about this then? Fancy lung failure instead?"

Tess snorted. "Pretty sure I shouldn't be smoking either."

Naomi squinted at her. "Wait. You've gone, like... five months without either?"

"Five and a bit," Tess said. "Not that I'm counting."

Naomi blinked. "Bloody hell. You're basically a monk now. A grumpy, stressed-out, teenage monk."

"Not by choice."

Naomi stretched her legs out with a dramatic sigh. "Maybe you'll never drink again. You'll be one of those powerful single mums with a green smoothie and a gym membership and a blog."

Tess raised an eyebrow. "That's not how it works. And that's definitely not happening."

Naomi grinned. "I know. But still. You never know."

There was a beat, a rare quiet between them. Then Naomi tilted her head. "So... got a shortlist yet?" Naomi asked, suddenly grinning like she'd been waiting to ask.

Tess closed her eyes. "Don't start."

"Come on!" Naomi grinned, fully invested now. "You gonna go traditional? James Cook Junior?"

"Fuck no."

"JC," Naomi mused, ignoring her. "Sounds like a rapper. Or a cult leader. Cook the Second?"

"Oh my God." Tess laughed despite herself. "Actually Cook the third if we're counting properly,"

Naomi cackled. "That kid's getting suspended before they hit nursery."

Tess smiled faintly. "Hey, it might not be anything like him. Or me."

"Wait, is it a girl or a boy then?" Naomi asked, tilting her head. "Not that it would make a difference,"

"I don't know," Tess said, the smile fading. "Didn't want to find out."

Naomi paused, then nodded. "Yeah. People get mad weird about that. Like, the second they hear it's a boy, it's footballs and dinosaurs. And if it's a girl: Pink glitter vomit and princesses. It's stupid. Doesn't actually mean anything."

Tess gave her a look of quiet relief, like she'd expected a different reaction. "Exactly. I don't want to start treating it like it's meant to be something before it even is something."

Naomi looked at her, a little impressed. "You're going to be a good mum, you know."

Tess shrugged, unsure of what to do with that.

Naomi smirked. "Although if it is a boy, and Cook's in his life, he's 100% going to be a feral goblin child. Pocket version of his dad."

Tess gave her a look. "Don't jinx me."

"I'm just saying," Naomi said, pointing with her bottle. "If it's got even half his energy, you better start baby-proofing everything. Including your soul."

Tess rolled her eyes. "Or maybe... maybe it'll be quiet. Thoughtful. Get straight As and read for fun."

Naomi snorted. "Not with your genes."

Tess elbowed her. "Oi."

"But seriously," Naomi added, softer now. "Whatever it turns out like... they're lucky to have you. And I mean that."

Before Tess could respond, a loud knock echoed from the front door.

They both froze.

Naomi glanced toward it. "You expecting someone?"

Tess sat up straighter, stomach tightening. "It's your house."

---

The next thing they knew, Lara and JJ were sitting awkwardly in the middle of the living room, with baby Albert nestled in a pram.

JJ scratched the back of his neck. "So, uh, I wanted you to meet Naoms and Emily because they're really fun."

The silence that followed was sharp enough to bite. Even JJ didn't seem to believe his own words.

Lara blinked, expression unreadable. "Right."

Naomi, sprawled halfway across the couch, flicked her eyes lazily toward Lara. "So, Laura—"

JJ cut in, not quite smoothly. "Lara."

Naomi frowned. "Yeah? Isn't that what I just said?"

Tess, who was sitting next to the pram and absentmindedly tickling Albert's sock-covered foot, glanced up. He let out a tiny hiccup-laugh, cheeks round and pink like ripe peaches. Tess smiled a little without meaning to.

Naomi leaned in slightly, squinting. "Erm. How old is it?"

Lara straightened. "He's nine months."

Naomi, without breaking eye contact, lit another spliff.

Lara's face tightened. "Um, would you mind not, you know, smoking that?"

Naomi blinked. "Oh shit. Sorry. Twice I've done that today... I'm such a tit."

Emily, who had come down only out of politeness and was still sitting on the edge of the couch like she couldn't wait to leave, muttered, "Tell me about it."

The room was silent.

Tess cleared her throat. "Anyway..."

JJ jumped at the chance. "Yes. Anyway. After we ran into Emily the other night, I thought, why not just come round?"

Emily visibly tensed at that. Tess gave her a sideways look, brows knitting, but Emily shook her head almost imperceptibly.

Naomi, suddenly more alert, tilted her head. "Wait—have you already met?"

Emily gave a tight nod. "Oh yeah. It was a coincidence."

JJ started, smiling obliviously, "Yeah, you were with that nice—"

Emily cut in sharp. "JJ, will you go over my, uh, politics coursework?"

JJ blinked. "I don't do politics."

"Yeah. Just... come look, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked toward the stairs. JJ hesitated, then followed her up.

The room sank into an awkward hush again.

Lara stared down at the pram, arms folded. "Well. This is... something."

Tess gave a half-laugh. "It's not usually this weird. I mean—it is. But not like this."

Naomi leaned her head back on the cushion. "So you two work together, yeah? JJ said something about that."

"Sure," Lara said flatly.

"Bet you've got loads in common then," Naomi added, voice slurred at the edges. "You know. Babies and that."

Tess's smile vanished. "Not really."

Naomi raised a brow but didn't push it. She shrugged and fished around for her lighter again.

Lara shifted, eyes flicking to Tess. "He likes you, you know."

Tess looked down at Albert, who was now gripping her finger with his chubby little hand. "He's so cute. He's got proper little cartoon baby cheeks."

Lara cracked the tiniest smile. "Yeah. Looks all sweet until he throws mashed banana at the wall."

"Classic," Tess murmured, still looking at him. "Does he get on with JJ?"

"He loves JJ," Lara said. "He's actually really good with him."

The front door creaked, followed by footsteps on the stairs. JJ returned, a bit too fast, his face stiff with something Tess couldn't place.

"Alright, we're gonna head. Just—thought it'd be nice, but... yeah."

He gestured toward Lara, who gave a nod to everyone, and then wheeled Albert's pram toward the door.

"Nice meeting you," she said, this time sounding slightly more sincere.

"You too," Naomi mumbled, already half-tuned out.

"See ya," Tess replied.

Tess watched them leave, frowning. Something was still off.

She stood up. "I'm just—gonna check on Emily."

Naomi gave a noncommittal shrug. "Tell her I said sorry for being a tit."

----

Tess kicked the door shut with her foot, balancing two plates in her hands. The weight of the day hung heavy across her shoulders.

Cook was sprawled across her bed in the exact same position he'd been in that morning.

"You moved?" Tess asked, heading toward her desk.

Cook popped an earbud out and looked at her like he'd just woken up. "What time is it?"

"Late," she muttered, setting one plate down for herself, the other heaped with enough pasta to feed two. "And you're welcome, by the way."

He rolled over onto his side, eyeing the food. "Thanks, Love."

"You could've made yourself useful while I was gone. Cleaned up your dirty shit."

He sat up enough to grab the plate and fork. "I'm in exile, not prison."

"Yeah that's where you're supposed to be."

They ate in near silence for a while — Cook wolfing his down with barely a breath between bites, Tess picking at hers, legs pulled up under her.

It was quiet.

Until she said, "JJ lost it at work today."

Cook paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "What d'you mean, lost it?"

"He showed up. No shift, just came marching in. Lara was there. With her ex." Tess let the fork clink into her bowl, appetite gone. "JJ just started... shouting. In front of everyone. Started screaming she was his, then just—lost it. Started smashing the guy's face in. Proper blackout rage."

Cook let out a low whistle, "Fucking hell. JJ?"

"Yeah." She replied. "Lara broke it off over the intercom. He was completely shattered. I've never seen him like that. I don't even know what got into him."

Cook leaned his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "People go nuts when they feel hurt. Love'll do that to you."

Tess raised a brow, mouth twitching. "What, did you read that in a fortune cookie?"

He grinned without looking at her. "Nah. I just know what it's like. When you know you're losing something and you can't stop it. Feeling like you've got no control."

She paused, unexpectedly struck by that. She thought about earlier that year — about the way he had snapped. Over her.

"Still. Doesn't mean he had to break someone's nose."

"Not saying it's smart," Cook muttered. "Just saying... I get it."

—

They lay in near-darkness, the only light a soft, amber glow bleeding in from the streetlamp outside.

Cook's arm was slung lazily behind his head. Tess was beside him trying to get some rest. After all she was the one having to leave the house every morning.

Now, he was tracing the seams of her duvet with one finger. Repetitive. Absent. She could feel it shifting near her leg.

"I can feel you thinking," Tess muttered, eyes closed.

"Dangerous, innit?" he whispered dramatically.

She cracked an eye open. "Go to sleep."

"I'm tryin'. But it's fuckin' hot in here."

"It's because you're a literal furnace."

He grinned. "Take that as a compliment."

Tess rolled onto her side, "Just don't do that twitchy leg thing."

Silence for a moment. Then: tap. Tap tap.

She sighed. "Seriously?"

"What?" he said, all innocent.

"You're doing the leg thing."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Thought that was the bed."

"Cook."

He grinned wider, cheeky and boyish in a way that was hard to be actually mad at. He shifted down so his head was level with hers, then bumped her nose with his.

"What," she said flatly.

"Nothing. You've got a weird little face when you're sleepy."

"Say one more word and I'll smother you with my duvet."

He bit back a laugh and finally — finally — settled. The quiet returned, heavier now, settling over them like a blanket.

Then, softer this time: "Your birthday's in a couple days, innit?"

She didn't answer straight away. Just blinked at the ceiling.

"Yeah," she said eventually.

"Big one," he said, almost teasing.

"Eighteen." Her voice was quiet. "Too old. Too grown-up. I dunno."

Cook shifted beside her, stretching one arm under the pillow. "Doesn't change fuck-all."

He was quiet for a beat. Then: "You got any plans? Birthday shag? Party hats? Bit of bunting?"

"Not really in the mood," She turned her head, watching him in profile. "You don't think it's a bit... bleak? I'm not even doing anything. Not even seeing anyone."

"You're seein' me," he said, mock offended.

Tess smiled faintly. "Not sure that counts."

"Oi."

She let the silence hang again. Then, barely a whisper: "Kinda scared, I think."

Cook didn't make a joke this time. Just reached across and pulled the duvet up around her shoulders. Let his arm rest there, not quite around her — but close enough.

"You'll be right," he said, like it was fact. "It's just a number."

Tess didn't reply. But she didn't move away either.

And when he started snoring 5 minutes later — fake, dramatic, clearly performed just to piss her off — she didn't even kick him.

Not hard, anyway.

----

Tess's phone buzzed softly on the floor, barely audible over the hum of birds outside. Her room was dim, streaks of light spilling through the cheap curtains.

She was already half-awake, lying in bed but not really in it — eyes open, brain buzzing, stomach a tight knot for no real reason.

Cook was sprawled beside her, breathing deep and uneven, duvet kicked off, one sock on, one sock off. His arm was stretched over her pillow like he owned it.

It was his third night here and so far it had gone well. Her mum hadn't even been suspicious.

Her phone buzzed again. She reached for it.

"DAD"

She stared at the name for a moment. Her stomach twisted — not in a panic way, just... heavy. She took a breath and picked up, slipping quietly out of bed.

"Tess." Nathan's voice was awkwardly upbeat, like he was trying to keep it breezy. "Happy birthday."

She paused. "Thanks."

"Eighteen, huh?"

"...Yeah."

"Jesus. Feels like you were just in that pink bike helmet, scuffed knees, covered in felt tips."

Tess looked out the window. "That was like ten years ago."

"I know. Doesn't feel like it."

Silence.

He cleared his throat. "So...How's school?"

"Alright. Finishing up soon enough."

"Right, that's gone fast." Nathan chuckled awkwardly, then let the pause stretch. "I was thinking about... Christmas. The way we left things."

Tess really didn't want to talk about this today.

Nathan went on, more hesitant now. "I shouldn't've said half the things I did. I was pissed off. You were pissed off. And I know you... you think I always mess it up, but I was trying. I am trying. I thought maybe you'd at least see that."

Tess scoffed quietly, not into the phone, just to herself.

"And maybe I didn't say it right," he continued. "But I wasn't the only one chucking knives, was I?"

She stiffened.

"Surprised you're apologising, Dad," she said flatly.

"God, give me a break, Tess."

He let the silence breathe for a second before launching again, more defensive now.

"Why? Why do you always do this? Can't you just be... happy I've changed? Why can't you accept that?"

She bit down on her tongue. "Fine. It's...fine."

Another beat. He exhaled through his nose.

She could hear him let out a deep breath, "It's just- it was your birthday coming up and... I dunno. Just didn't want that to be the last time we spoke."

Tess rubbed her thumb along the corner of the phone. "Yeah."

"I know you've got a lot going on right now."

She froze.

"I mean—big decisions. That kind of thing."

Still, she said nothing.

Nathan hesitated. "Are you actually... having it?"

"That's not really your business." She said, defences up.

"Well, it kind of is."

"No, it's not."

"...Fine." He sounded annoyed now, but tried to rein it back. "I just think maybe you're listening to the wrong people."

She knew where this was going.

"And by that I mean him."

There it was.

"You think this kid's gonna be around when it matters?" Nathan pushed. "He'll leg it the first time it gets serious. You know what it's like."

Tess's voice was low. "Just like you weren't around?"

"...That's different. He's- he's-" But he struggled to find the words

"You don't know him." Tess shot back

"I know enough."

She bit the inside of her cheek.

He sighed. "Whatever. You've made up your mind, haven't you?"

Tess didn't reply.

"Anyway, I just wanted to call. Say happy birthday. And maybe not end up shouting at each other this time."

She nodded even though he couldn't see.

"...Alright," she said. "Thanks."

Tess hung up.

Tess slipped her phone onto the windowsill and let the silence settle. The air in the room was still, muffled. Outside, the dull grey sky had started to spit, raindrops ticking against the glass.

Behind her, the bed creaked.

Cook blinked awake slowly, hair a mess, voice rough.

"Happy fucking birthday."

"Thanks," She muttered,

He stretched lazily, scratching his ribs. "That your dad?"

Tess nodded, flopping onto the bed beside him.

"Your dad's a knob."

She gave a quiet, tired laugh.

Cook rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.

"D'you have any socks? I've got like one left and it's crunchy."

She blinked. "Crunchy?"

"Yeah. Crunchy."

Tess cracked a smile despite herself. Cook caught it and gave her a lazy wink before yawning.

Then, after a pause, he looked at her again — properly this time.

He sat up more. "What'd he say?"

Tess let out a tired breath. "He said happy birthday."

He watched her again, something in her face different now — not annoyed, not tired, just... dulled.

"Come on, what actually happened?" he asked more carefully.

Tess stared down at her hands. "That he's trying. That I don't see it."

"Fucker." He reached over lazily, thumb brushing a wrinkle from her sleeve.

Tess huffed, folding her arms tighter. "You ever get the feeling... someone says sorry, just so you'll say it's alright? And not cause they actually mean it?"

Cook tilted his head. "You said it was alright?"

"Yeah."

"And it weren't."

She shrugged.

He studied her, then said quietly, "Why'd you do that?"

Tess looked at him, unsure. Her throat bobbed. "I dunno. Just wanted it to stop."

There was a pause.

Tess bit her lip. "He asked if I'm... having it."

Cook blinked. "The baby?"

She nodded. "He thinks you're the reason I'm doing it."

Cook's face cracked into a half-smile. "I mean, technically I am. Biologically."

Tess didn't laugh. She was still staring at the sheets.

He let the joke hang for a second before shifting closer. "Did he say I'd do a runner?"

"Yeah."

"Fucking original, that one." Cook scoffed. "And a bit rich comin' from him."

There was another pause. Tess still hadn't looked at him.

"He doesn't know you...He barely knows me." she said, almost too quiet.

Cook raised an eyebrow. "You defendin' me, Tess?"

She rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted. "Don't make it weird."

Tess pulled at a loose thread in the duvet. "It's just... I dunno. Every time I talk to him, I feel like a kid again. And not in a good way. Like I'm still just waiting for him to be someone he never was."

Cook stayed quiet, for once.

"I used to make excuses for him," she went on. "To my mum. My mates. To myself. Like... he's just busy, he's tired, he doesn't mean it like that. Even when he forgot my birthday- practically every year I still said maybe he'd posted something and it got lost."

She blinked quickly and sniffed. "I told myself he'd come back. And when he did, everything had changed. It was like he replaced us."

Cook reached over and nudged her knee under the duvet.

"He just likes playing dad when it makes him look good."

Cook didn't try to say anything wise. Just pulled her toward him a bit, arms loose but steady around her shoulders.

A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it quickly with the sleeve of her jumper, frustrated more than sad. "It's pathetic." She wiped again, Sorry."

"Nah, don't apologise. It's your birthday, you can do whatever you want." 

----

The café was buzzing with energy — kids running around, coffee machines hissing, and the occasional dogs bark from outside. Tess sat with her chin resting in her palm, eyes half-lidded as she picked at her food, not particularly hungry, but not really caring either.

Michelle was trying to explain something about how the world was so much better at 18, which Tess didn't even pretend to be interested in. Beside her, Paul and her mum were arguing about the pronunciation of words as if it were life-or-death.

It wasn't a bad birthday lunch, technically. Just... a bit shit.

Maybe it was the hormones. Or maybe it was that Katie had called her that morning to say happy birthday and ended up going on a ten-minute rant about her teacher being "a micro-managing, flat white-obsessed gremlin"

She hadn't had the energy to fake cheerful.

At the table, Michelle was still going on about Tess turning 18. "Can't believe you're legal now. We're both officially adults." she shuddered dramatically.

Tess shot her a look. "Freaky."

"Honestly though, 18. You're practically ancient now," Michelle added, biting into her sandwich like it was a revelation.

"Calm down, I'm still a teenager," Tess said, taking a long sip of her water. "By, like, a technicality and half a hormone."

Paul suddenly leaned in, eyeing her arm with exaggerated scrutiny. "How's that burn doing, by the way?"

Tess blinked, "What burn?"

"You know, from the other day," Paul said, squinting at her like it was a serious case study. "You said you burned yourself on the stove, right?"

Tess quickly covered, shovelling another chip into her mouth, completely forgetting the excuse she'd made. "Oh. Yeah. The stove top. Fine. Healed. Totally." She forced a smile, praying it looked even remotely convincing.

"You sure? 'Cause you were saying it looked pretty nasty last time." Paul raised an eyebrow.

Tess nodded too quickly. "Yeah, well, steam's a bitch, you know?"

Michelle snorted into her drink. "Steam. Right."

"You alright, birthday girl?" Paul asked, genuinely confused.

Tess opened her mouth, but the words just felt stuck. Instead, she just shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... one of those days, you know?"

She didn't say it, but the truth settled somewhere in her stomach like a stone: nothing felt quite right lately. And not even cake could fix it.

----

Tess had gone on a walk to clear her head after lunch, which hadn't worked, obviously. Her phone buzzed just as she was considering going home and hiding under her duvet for the rest of the evening.

Naomi: come quickly. you left something at mine.

Must've been something from their 'study session' but Tess was already close by and her feet didn't feel like walking home just yet. So she went, curiosity piqued and stomach still weirdly fluttery — it wasn't butterflies, more like anxious pigeons trapped in a loft. 

Naomi opened the door with a face like she was badly trying to look casual and failing.

"You alright?" Tess asked, suspicious.

Naomi smiled too wide. "Yeah. Totally. Chill. Normal day. You left something out back."

"What? In your yard."

"Go outside," Naomi said, practically shoving her. "Go."

Tess squinted, sighed, and stepped into the garden.

It was dusk, and the air was warm, despite the rain earlier. She blinked at the scene in front of her.

There was Cook. Standing in the middle of Naomi's scrappy little garden, next to a blanket thrown over the grass, surrounded by half-wilted flowers and a mess of takeaway boxes and crisps. There were fairy lights strung between two trees — probably Naomi's. He had a stupid, proud grin on his face.

"Surprise," he said, hands shoved in his pockets. "S'not fancy. But, like. It's something."

Tess blinked again, slower this time. "What... is this?"

"Uh...A picnic?" he said, all defensive. "Or somethin' like that. For your birthday."

She stared. "You did this?"

"Obviously. You think Naomi did this? She called me a soppy bastard the whole time I was setting it up."

Tess looked around. "You did all this for my birthday?"

He shrugged. "Classy bird like you deserves the finest."

She let out a breath and stepped forward, sinking onto the blanket beside him. She was genuinely impressed with his efforts. No one had ever done something like this for her. Not with this kind of messy, wholehearted effort. And it didn't matter that the doughnuts were crushed or that the lights flickered. It felt like he'd tried. For her.

Cook flopped down beside her and started pointing at the food like he was presenting a buffet. "Right. We've got chips, sausage rolls, chicken sandwich that may or may not be dodgy. There's strawberries and a whole bag of candy from none other than Hancocks confectionery...Oh and some weird dip Naom's had. Got music if you want it, but I figured we'd just chat or stargaze or whatever people do on normal dates."

She raised a brow. "This a date?"

He shrugged, suddenly shy. "Well... yeah."

She laughed, quiet. "How long did this take?"

"Few hours. I kept eatin' stuff. Had to replace things y'know?"

They started picking at the food — mostly the crisps, which were slightly stale — and chatted about nothing. Cook asked how lunch had gone and Tess groaned dramatically.

"Michelle was banging on about adulthood. Mum and Paul were arguing about vowels. Katie rang just to rant about her teacher. I barely spoke."

He nodded seriously. "Classic birthday."

Naomi came out at one point, grabbed some lemonade and chips, gave Tess a tiny wink, muttered something about needing to escape the cringe, and vanished again.

Eventually, they shoved the food containers to one side and lay back on the rug. The sun had dipped, sky turning lavender.

They lay there for a while, quietly pointing out clouds that weren't really clouds anymore — just stars starting to blink into place. Tess said one looked like a snail. Cook said one looked like a half-crushed spider and she told him he had the imagination of a five-year-old.

It was good. It was nice. It was easy.

Cook broke the silence.

"I think we'd be good together. Me and you."

Tess turned her head toward him, startled but not in a bad way. "Yeah?"

"I think we'd be sterling."

She made a face. "Sterling?"

"Mm."

Tess rolled onto her side to look at him properly. "What are you saying?"

Cook exhaled through his nose. "Could make it official, you know?"

She raised a brow, heart rate rising. "Official?"

"Y'know. Officially. Not just hanging about. Proper datin'. Like Sid and Nancy, Bonnie and Clyde."

"Oh, perfect," she said dryly. "Those are your go to examples?"

He snorted. "Alright, maybe not exactly like them."

She smiled, small and real. "So what? I'm the James Cook's girlfriend now?" She said in a mocking tone.

He gave her a stupid little smirk. "If you wanna be."

She let herself pause and take him in — his dumb grin, his messed up hair, the whole ridiculous setup — and for a second, the weight in her chest eased. He'd tried. For her. And that mattered more than she could say.

"I do wanna be."

He beamed, then leaned in and kissed her — warm and certain, like something settling into place.

When they pulled apart, he looked a bit breathless. "You're the first girl I've ever had. Officially, I mean. Like properly."

Tess studied him. "Never had a girlfriend?"

"Nup."  Then his expression softened. "But this... this feels different. You feel different."

Her heart did that annoying flip it sometimes did around him — the one she pretended wasn't real. But it was. It was terrifyingly real.

"Well now the real question is if you can keep one."

"Challenge accepted."

Tess nodded in agreement, then sat up slightly. "Wait. I have something."

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled photo, holding it out before she could change her mind.

Cook sat up too, taking the picture carefully.

The scan.

He stared at it, frowning at first, then blinking like it had just hit him.

"Wait...that's it?"

Tess nodded. "Mhm."

Cook was quiet. Like actually quiet. Not distracted or weird, just... really looking at it.

"That's mad," he said softly. "That's...real? in you?"

"Yeah."

He looked back at the photo, then at her. "We actually made that."

"Yeah, we did." something tight catching in her chest—like nausea and wonder rolled into one.

He gave a low whistle. "Shit."

Cook's face changed. "So... what are we gonna do? Actually?"

The question hit like a pebble dropped in deep water — echoing, rippling.

Tess shook her head quickly. "Can we not? Right now?"

He looked startled, then nodded slowly.

"I'm enjoying this too much," she said, more firmly. "You. This. I just wanna have tonight."

Cook rubbed the back of his neck. "Tess Richardson admitting she wants to spend time with me? Worlds gone mad."

She gave him a look — sharp, amused, but softer than before. And then, just as his smirk faded, she said it. Quiet, like she was testing the shape of it again.

"I love you."

Cook blinked.

For a second, he just stared at her. Like he wasn't sure he'd heard it right. Maybe he just hadn't heard it in so long — not from her. Not like this. Not without a fight, or a flare of emotion behind it.

She hadn't said it in months. But she'd known. She'd always known. Known it in the way she still looked for him first in a crowded room. Known it in the way her stomach always dipped when he smiled at her like that.

But saying it — plainly, openly — felt different. Realer. And she hadn't realised how badly she'd wanted him to say it back.

"I love you too."

She exhaled slowly, and he reached for her hand without needing to be asked.

He leaned back again beside her, their shoulders brushing.

And under the fading glow of Naomi's garden lights, they let the future wait.