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You're stuck.
Listen, when you selected this dress, it had been a bit of a tight squeeze to get into, but with the hot date you were supposed to have, you didn't think you'd be the one taking it off tonight.
But now there you are, on the edge of tears, increasingly claustrophobic with where this dress is rucked up around your chest and shoulders, arms stuck over your head. Trapped.
You've tried wriggling it back down, pushing it back up. You have no idea what the state of your hair or makeup are by now, what with the push-pull. You're starting to worry that you just may be in there forever.
You draw in a deep breath. Okay. One more time, you're gonna get it. Your fingers curl around the fabric, nails hooking into it almost viciously before you stretch, and—fuck.
"Ow ow ow ow ow," You breathe, loosening your grip on the fabric.
It's official. You live in this. You're going to have to start paying rent to this dress.
Unless...
It's no guarantee. He's probably at work. He might not even pick up—but what other choice do you have?
You stomp your foot, defeated, before you hinge forward, blindly searching for your phone.
"Siri, call Jack Abbot."
You wriggle again, trying to shimmy it down. God, how much of you will he be able to see? Maybe you shouldn't have called, maybe you can find your scissors or a knife. A little dicey, but could you at least loosen some of the seams—?
"Hello?"
"Hey!" You half-yell, unsure of how muffled you may sound with the dress lodged around your head. "I, um—How are you?"
"I'm okay, how are you?"
"Good!" Bad. "I have a weird question."
"Okay?"
"Are you home, by any chance?"
"Yeah, why?"
You draw in a deep breath. You can still ditch. You can still avoid your hot neighbor seeing you in an embarrassing, half-dressed, insanely uncomfortable and compromising position. You give the dress one more painful tug, and bite down on the inside of your cheek when it still refuses to budge.
"I have a really big favor to ask and I am begging you not to laugh."
--
Getting the door open is a herculean effort. You have to hinge all the way forward, blindly undo the lock, and step back without tripping over the shoes that you had so stupidly, casually kicked off when you got inside. You wobble as your foot lands on one of the heels, and curse as you regain your footing.
You hear the door open, then close, and then...Quiet. Harrowing quiet. Jesus, how much of you can he see? You know you have your shape wear shorts on, so it's not like you're completely bare. In this moment, the only saving grace of this dress being stuck is that you can't see his face—and while he may be able to feel the embarrassment radiating off of you, he can't see the way it's written all over your features.
"Wow, you weren't kidding."
Not a stellar place to start.
"Why would I have been kidding?" You grit out.
"I'm coming closer," Jack warns. You draw in a deep breath, giving a small nod, which, with your limited range of movement, makes your arms sway back and forth where they're stuck over your head.
"Is it alright if I touch you?" He asks.
"Yeah." Then, "Thanks for asking."
"'Course. I'm, um..." He clears his throat, "I'm going to reach under where it is by your sides."
"Okay."
You wiggle as you feel Jack's fingers tuck under the fabric, fighting back a giggle at the slightly ticklish, feather-light touch.
"Sorry," He mutters.
"It's okay."
"I'm gonna pull up."
The slight tug makes you wince, and you suck in a breath as the dress shifts up, then catches again.
"Sorry. Ah...Tell you what," You hear him shift in front of you, "Put your hands together and lean forward—like you're picking something up."
You do as he said, unable to help the slight whimper of discomfort that slips out.
"I'm gonna pull toward me," He adds, "I want you to try and back out of it—not too hard, we don't want you flying backward. Alright? On three."
"Okay."
"One...Two...Three!"
Two tugs, the deafening rip of the dress, and then light. You stumble back a touch, hands slamming against the wall behind you. Is that was being birthed is like? Oh my god, your arms are down, not stuck by your head. You can fully see the hall light again—and when your eyes land on Jack, you find him turned away, something held in his hand. You think that it's your dress at first, but when he gives it a little shake and mutters, "Here," You realize that it's a t-shirt. You take the shirt, hurriedly tugging it on and kicking the dress into the corner by the door.
"Thank you. Can you give me one second?" You ask, backing into your apartment, "You can grab yourself a beer if you want—or you can leave if you need to, you know, I mean, I don't know what you were up to or if you have something you need to do, or—"
"It's okay."
"Okay."
You scurry down the hall and into your bedroom, leaning back against the door as soon as you're in.
You take in a deep breath as soon as your alone, raising your sore, throbbing arms and burying your face in your hands. You would be lying if you said you've never thought about Jack Abbot seeing you in a state of undress, but this was not the way you imagined it happening.
God, he wasn't even looking at you in the hallway. How stupid had you looked when he walked in?
You walk over to the full length mirror in your room, hesitantly tugging up the t-shirt he'd given you. Your eyes sweep over the temporary indents from where the dress had been stuck, the irritation littering your skin in artificial wrinkles. You sniffle, trying and failing to push away the swell of frustrated tears that crowd your eyes.
God, first the date, now this. You just want to pretend this night never happened.
--
You can hear Jack moving around when you leave your room, having swapped your shape wear for sweatpants. You see the beer in his hand as he wanders slowly around your living room, eyes sweeping across your book shelves. He's turning to meet your eye the second your foot lands on one of the hall's creaky boards.
You can't help but wonder what he notices first: your bloodshot eyes, or the weak smile that you're giving him.
"Hi," You offer lamely.
"Hey. You okay?"
You huff out a self-conscious laugh. "Better, now that I'm slowly regaining the feeling in my arms. Thanks again."
"How long were you stuck like that?"
You open your mouth to answer, but shake your head when you're unable to conjure up an accurate one quickly.
"I don't know. It felt like an hour, but it was honestly probably like...Ten minutes?"
Jack hums, nodding. You can see his eyes sweeping across you, over his shirt where it hangs on your body.
"Appreciate you coming with a shirt," You add, reaching up and tugging the fabric, "Really solid of you to, um. You know."
"Nah, it's nothin'," He shrugs. "I'm sorry about your dress. I'll pay for the repair—"
"Oh, no, god no. No way was I ever gonna wear it again, even if it hadn't ripped. Getting into it was like some kind of medieval torture device. Honestly, I owe you." You give him another quick smile before you turn, heading into your kitchen.
"I hope you don't mind, I helped myself."
"No, of course not. I told you to." You reach into the fridge, pulling a beer out for yourself. "You hungry?"
"I'm okay."
You straighten up and find Jack drifting toward the kitchen, eyes still sweeping across your living room—you couch, your framed photos, the books on your coffee table.
You let yourself look for a few moments, taking in the pull of his t-shirt across his chest. God, what does he look like, under there? If you were just a bit bolder, had been less beaten down by your night, you might ask for a peak, tease that this would make the two of you even. But you aren't feeling very bold after your date outright rejected you, and after you had to summon your insanely hot neighbor to come and help you out of your straight jacket of a dress.
You let your gaze drop to your beer as you see Jack's head begin to turn toward you. Shit, were you staring? Could he feel it?
"I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."
"Nah. Quiet night in."
"This is gonna be pretty selfish of me to say, but I am...So lucky you weren't working tonight," You laugh self-consciously.
"Did you have a good time?"
"When I got stuck?"
His lips quirk with a smile. "When you were out."
Your smile waivers, and you give a little shrug, looking down into your drink.
"Uh...Honestly? No. I had a really bad date, and then I couldn't get out of that—stupid dress," You laugh shakily, "Tonight's been a bit of a train wreck."
"I'm sorry."
"S'okay. Not your fault."
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"I appreciate that, but I've already taken up way too much of your time."
You hear Jack hum softly, see him come a bit closer in your periphery, hear him sit down his beer.
"I can get out of your hair if you'd like some privacy. But if you'd like some company, I would love for you to take up more of my time."
Your surprise takes over, and you look at Jack before you can stop yourself. There's a hint of a smile on his lips, and the warmth that it wells up in you is almost enough to forget that the first time Jack saw you that evening, your arms had been stuck over your head.
--
When you yawn for the third time, Jack chuckles.
"Alright, I'm callin' it. You're flagging."
You wrinkle your nose with the force of the yawn, grumbling, "Sorry."
"It's okay."
"Not all of us are used to staying up all night."
You stand from your couch as Jack does, trailing him down the hall to the front door. You wrack your mind, trying to find any reason to entreat Jack to stay just a little big longer—some question about what the two of you have been talking about for the last three hours: his work, his history, the motorcycle that he's been helping his friend fix up.
But as Jack turns to face you just steps from your front door, you find that you can't scrounge up anything worth keeping him there for.
"I, um." You clear your throat, "I know I thanked you before—"
"Several times."
"Yeah, but I really do appreciate you coming and helping me, and you just...You helped me make the best of a pretty shitty night."
Jack's head ducks as his smile widens.
"I'm just glad you trusted me enough to come over and help you. Goodnight."
"Night."
You watch Jack open your door, still, and then turns halfway back to face you.
"For the record, that guy you went out with," He shakes his head, and your heart stutters as his eyes sweep over your body, "He has no idea what he's missing."
"Sweet of you to say, Jack."
You see Jack's jaw work for a moment before he's letting go of your door and closing the space between the two of you. You pull in a stunned breath as he raises his hand, the warmth of it radiating just inches from your face.
"Is it alright if I touch you?"
It's nothing like the first time he asked it. Jack isn't still in your hall out of necessity, but because he wants to be. You give a small nod, eyes searching his face as his palm rests against your skin, thumb sweeping across the swell of your cheek. His gaze drops to your lips, and as it lingers, you take a small step, further closing the gap between the two of you.
Jack dips his head toward yours, nose brushing against yours, and you tip your chin up, pressing your lips to his. Jack's hand smooths along your side, drawing you fully into his chest. You give into your urges, hands sliding greedily over his arms, up to tangle in his hair. Jack steers you with steady steps, until you feel your back pressing against the wall.
The kiss breaks slowly, and you sigh softly as Jack's lips trail across your cheek, down to your jaw, the stubble coating his cheeks sending tingles across your skin.
"...Well that woke me up," You mumble, smiling as Jack's chuckle rumbles against your jaw.
"Can I take you out some time?"
You nod, a wave of shyness sweeping over you as Jack draws back to meet your eye.
"I'd like that a lot."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
Jack ducks his head, pressing another kiss to your lips before he reluctantly draws away.
"Thanks again," You add.
"Anytime."
"For the dress, I mean, not for the kiss—Not that I'm not thanking you for the kiss, it was nice, I enjoyed it, I just meant—"
Jack leans in, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips, stoppering your rambling.
"I knew what you meant," He reassures, giving your hip a soft squeeze. "I'll text you, make plans?"
"Okay," You murmur. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Jack offers you one more sweet smile, holding your eye until he's closed the door behind himself. You reach out, locking it, and letting your gaze drop to where the ripped dress is still sitting in the corner. Bad date, awful dress...but a pretty spectacular end to the night.
Your arms are still a little sore, sure—but you know that you're going to crawl into bed with your lips still buzzing from Jack's kisses.