Jake’s living room was a mess of empty beer bottles and takeout containers. He slumped on the couch, head in his hands, elbows digging into his knees. His usually tousled hair was a disaster, like he’d been running his fingers through it non-stop.
“She regrets it, I know she does,” Jake muttered, his voice rough. “This has fucked it all up.”
Oscar leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. His eyes, sharper than Jake’s unfocused gaze, tracked his brother’s nervous movements. “You don’t know that, lil bro,” he said, his tone measured. “You need to talk to her, tell her she means more to you than just a quick fuck.”
Jake’s head snapped up, eyes blazing. “Of course she means more! Fuck, Oscar, I’m not you.”
Oscar’s eyebrow quirked. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sorry,” Jake sighed, deflating. “I just… I can’t lose her, man. Not over this.”
Oscar crossed the room, settling next to Jake. He clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Then fight for her, dumbass. Stop wallowing and do something about it.”
Jake ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “Like what? She’s not answering my calls.”
Oscar rolled his eyes. “Text her, Jake. Sometimes it’s easier to respond to a message than pick up the phone.”
Jake’s fingers twitched towards his phone, but he hesitated. “What if she tells me to fuck off?”
“Then at least you’ll know,” Oscar said, his voice softening. “But you won’t know anything if you don’t try.”
Jake swallowed hard, then grabbed his phone. His thumbs flew over the keyboard, composing a message. He hit send before he could second-guess himself.
The brothers sat in tense silence, waiting. Jake’s leg bounced nervously, his eyes never leaving the screen. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the phone buzzed.
Jake’s face fell as he read the response. “She says she needs time,” he said, his voice hollow.
Oscar leaned back, considering. “That’s not a ‘no,’ Jake. It’s not ideal, but it’s something to work with.”
Jake tossed the phone aside, frustration etched in every line of his body. “Fuck, I should’ve known better. I pushed too hard, too fast.”
“Hey,” Oscar said sharply, “stop that shit. Last night was perfectly consensual all around. She’s an adult, Jake. Give her the space to process without beating yourself up.”
Jake nodded, but his eyes were distant. He was already replaying every moment, second-guessing every decision. Oscar watched him, concern evident in his furrowed brow.
Oscar wrinkled his nose, breaking the heavy silence. “Christ, Jake, you reek like a goddamn distillery. Go shower before you pickle yourself.”
Jake let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Yeah, alright. Might help clear my head anyway.” He pushed himself off the couch, his movements sluggish.
As Jake’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Oscar’s eyes narrowed. He snatched up Jake’s phone, scrolling through the contacts with practiced efficiency. A name caught his eye – Emily. He vaguely recalled Jake mentioning her as Sophia’s best friend.
Oscar glanced towards the bathroom, hearing the shower start. His fingers flew over his own phone’s keyboard:
Oscar: Hey, it’s Oscar, Jake’s brother. I think you’re close to Sophia?
He hit send, his jaw clenched as he waited. The reply came quickly:
Emily: Hey, yeah, she’s my best friend. What’s up?
Oscar took a deep breath, weighing his words carefully:
Oscar: Does Sophia regret last night?
The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow before Emily’s response lit up the screen:
Emily: She’s confused. Worried she’s fucked everything up with Jake.
“Shit,” Oscar muttered, his mind racing. He needed to tread carefully here, for Jake’s sake and Sophia’s.
Oscar’s fingers hovered over the keys, weighing his next move. Before he could respond, another message from Emily popped up:
Emily: Does Jake want more than just fucking? I don’t want Sophia to get hurt again.
Oscar’s eyebrows shot up. The raw honesty in Emily’s text caught him off guard. He glanced towards the bathroom, where the shower was still running, and made a split-second decision.
Oscar: He does. Admitted as much just now.
He hit send, then quickly followed up:
Oscar: Look, they’re both overthinking this. We need to get them talking.
Emily’s reply came swiftly:
Emily: Agreed. But how? Sophia’s holed up in her flat, drowning in KFC and self-doubt.
Oscar snorted, picturing the scene. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, his mind whirring.
Oscar: The Rusty Anchor. Tomorrow night, 8 PM. I’ll get Jake there. Can you wrangle Sophia?
Emily: Challenge accepted. But if this goes tits up, I’m blaming you.
A smirk tugged at Oscar’s lips. He liked Emily’s fire.
Oscar: Fair enough. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
As he set his phone down, Oscar heard the shower shut off. He leaned back, his mind already plotting the next moves in this little romantic chess game. Jake and Sophia might be stubborn, but he and Emily? They were fucking unstoppable.
The bathroom door creaked open, releasing a cloud of steam. Jake emerged, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair dripping onto his shoulders. He shuffled into the living room, another towel in hand as he roughly dried his hair.
Oscar glanced up, his face a mask of casual nonchalance. “Feel better?”
Jake grunted, collapsing onto the couch. “Define ‘better.'” He ran a hand through his damp locks, his blue eyes clouded with worry. “Fuck, Oz. I’ve really screwed the pooch this time, haven’t I?”
Oscar leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Not necessarily. Look, sitting here marinating in your own thoughts isn’t gonna fix shit. We’re going out tomorrow night.”
Jake’s head snapped up, his brow furrowed. “What? No, man. I’m not in the mood–”
“Didn’t ask if you were in the mood,” Oscar cut him off, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re going to The Rusty Anchor. Have a few drinks, clear your head. Maybe even talk to some actual humans instead of just the voices in your thick skull.”
Jake opened his mouth to protest, but Oscar held up a hand. “Non-negotiable, little bro. You need this.”
For a moment, Jake looked like he might argue further. Then his shoulders sagged, defeat etched in every line of his body. “Fine. But I’m not promising to enjoy it.”
Oscar smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now go put some clothes on before you catch a chill. Can’t have you sniffling through our night out.”
As Jake trudged towards his bedroom, Oscar allowed himself a small, victorious smile. Phase one: complete. Now, it was all up to Emily to work her magic on Sophia.
Oscar’s phone buzzed insistently. He glanced down, seeing Emily’s name flash across the screen. His lips quirked into a half-smile as he opened the message.
Emily: What exactly have you told Jake?
Emily has added Amy to the chat.
Emily: This is Sophia’s sister, btw.
Oscar’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t expected Emily to loop in reinforcements so quickly. His fingers flew across the screen as he typed out a response.
Oscar: Just that I’m dragging him out tomorrow night. Trying to get him out of his own head.
He waited, watching the three dots dance as Emily composed her reply. A moment later, a new message popped up.
Amy: We’ll have to tell Soph it’s girls’ night or she’ll never go. But that means there’ll be a group of us. We need to make sure Jake and Sophia talk this shit out somehow.
Oscar ran a hand through his hair, mind racing. This was getting complicated fast. He could hear Jake shuffling around in his room, probably still sulking.
“Fuck me,” Oscar muttered under his breath. He typed quickly:
Oscar: Agreed. But how do we get them alone without it seeming obvious?
Emily: Leave that to me. You just make sure Jake shows up.
Oscar snorted. Getting Jake there would be the easy part. It was keeping him from bolting the moment he saw Sophia that worried him.
“Hey, Oz?” Jake called from the other room. “You said The Rusty Anchor, right? Should I wear something nice?”
Oscar rolled his eyes. “It’s not a fucking state dinner, Jake. Just wear whatever.”
As Jake grumbled something unintelligible, Oscar turned his attention back to his phone. He had a sinking feeling this “night out” was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
A new message flashed on the screen, drawing Oscar’s attention back to the group chat.
Amy: If it comes to it, we’ll just handcuff the pair of them together until they talk it out.
Oscar bit back a laugh, picturing the scene. Knowing Sophia’s fiery temper and Jake’s stubborn streak, that might not end well. Before he could reply, Emily chimed in:
Emily: Is that what they teach you in relationship counsellor class now? ?
Oscar could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from Emily’s text. He glanced towards Jake’s room, making sure his brother wasn’t about to walk in and catch him plotting. The coast was clear.
Amy: No, but they should because sometimes it’s the only way to deal with your stubborn baby sister.
Oscar smirked, thinking how well that description fit both Sophia and Jake. He typed out a quick response:
Oscar: I’m game if you are. Got any spare handcuffs lying around?
He hit send, then immediately regretted it. “Shit,” he muttered, realizing how that might sound. Before he could clarify, Jake’s voice rang out from the hallway.
“Who are you texting?” Jake asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously.
Oscar fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it. “No one,” he said quickly, shoving it into his pocket. “Just… making plans for tomorrow night.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t push it. “Right,” he said slowly. “Well, I’m heading to bed. Try not to stay up all night ‘making plans’, yeah?”
As Jake retreated to his room, Oscar let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. This scheme was going to be trickier than he thought.