i wasn’t jealous | brendan brisson
Words: 4.5k
—
Even over the music swirling throughout your room, you can hear the long, exaggerated sigh coming from the man laying on your bed. You spare him a glance as you open your drawer, rolling your eyes at the pouty lips and puppy dog eyes he’s pulled out for your benefit. If he hadn’t been sighing like that for the last half hour, you might’ve entertained him because he really did look cute all sprawled out, arm propping up his head, his hair still a mess from practice. But the fact of the matter was that he had been sighing repeatedly, waiting for you to acknowledge him even though he had been asking the same question for days now, so you continue to ignore him and throw a pair of leggings into your suitcase. When you throw a couple bathing suits onto the pile too, he gets up from his spot on the bed and closes the lid to your suitcase, sitting on it. It instantly collapses under his weight, creating the hilarious sight of your 6’1 boyfriend inside your suitcase.
“If you have to go, i’m going with you,” he insists.
“Brendan, you are not going with me. It’s called a ‘girls’ trip’ for a reason. We don’t want any whiny boyfriends tagging along.” if you were being transparent, you had initially tried to turn it into a couples’ trip because you were just as attached to bren as he was to you, to which pillows had been thrown at your face and the idea rejected.
Not liking your response, he pouts “We, huh?”.
“Baby…we’re together all the time. The boys miss you and i’ll only be gone for a week. Less than that even, five days.”
“I see them everyday, they definitely don’t miss me, but i’ll miss you. Five days is a long time, y/n. That’s like the longest we’ve been apart since the Olympics and you said i wasn’t allowed to leave you anymore, well you’re not allowed to leave me either.”
Your shoulders slump and you sigh, recalling how long it had felt to not have him by your side. “That was different, b. You were literally an ocean away, on an opposite time zone, and doing important things as an Olympian. I’m just going to florida. I’ll facetime you from the beach while you walk to class,” you tease.
He lets out another dramatic sigh. “You’re so mean to me, i really should look for another girlfriend while you’re gone.’
You grin, his joke an indication of his mood shifting. “We both know you won’t leave your video games while i’m gone, b.”
“That’s false…but you’re positive you have to go?” he tries one more time.
You lean forward on your knees to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m positive. Now will you please remove your ass from my suitcase so i can finish packing and we can meet everyone for dinner?”
He puckers his lips, demanding another kiss, but then does as you ask and rolls to sit next to the suitcase, frowning at every new item being packed. You’re just about finished, moving to your tshirt drawer last. You toss the first few that are on top onto your pile to sleep in and then you start digging for that big one that you knew would be perfect to throw on as a cover up for the beach. You hadn’t worn it in a while for obvious reasons, since it was the middle of winter, so it was probably toward the bottom.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what was that?”
You jump slightly at the sound of his voice. He had been quiet for once, making you almost forget that he was there. You freeze turning to look at him and his eyes narrow in on where your hands are shoved into the drawer. There was a gleeful glimmer in his eyes and a smirk spreading across his face.
“That blue one you just passed. Is that what i think it is?”
Your confusion dissipates into something else when you finger through the last three shirts to the navy one he had asked about. Heat rises to your face instantly. It was the jersey tee that the team had put out to support their players, the money actually going to the name on the back of the shirt instead of the front. It was ridiculously priced, but at the time you felt that you needed it and didn’t have the actual player to give you one of his own. Now, it was a totally different story.
“Did you buy my shirt?” he asks, looking way too smug. “You basically have unlimited access to my closet, and you choose to spend money on my last name? You really are my biggest fan, my mom didn’t even buy that.”
“Uh huh” you say, trying to keep your voice level and not draw anymore attention to the shirt he was apparently attached to. You fail however, even just the two syllables coming out higher than you wanted and catching his attention.
“Ok warning bells are going off in my head right now. You didn’t even comment on the fact that i just called you my fangirl, you’re not taking the shirt with you, and your voice got all weird. What gives?”
“It’s nothing”, you try to lie.
“Look at me and say that again”, he presses, knowing you can’t do it.
“It’s not a big deal, bren,” you say, but you look guilty as hell.
“If it’s not a big deal then why can’t you look me in the eye right now?” he asks, moving to grab the shirt that you were now holding behind your back.
You know there’s no point in acting like this, either of you. You didn’t do anything that you should feel this guilty over and he didn’t really have any right to be mad, not that he had shown you that he was yet. But you still felt bad as you watched him unfold the jersey tee, eyes piercing the impossibly large “34” and french last name that certainly wasn’t his. “Thomas?” he spits out, “really?”
