26 43 80 with montgomery please 😂
Man oh man do I love that angry lil prick
26. I’m stuck! Help me!
43. Pick up lines only work when I’m drunk.
80. Nothing bad is going to happen, baby, I promise.
Clean up the sports utility closet coach said. It’ll be easy extra credit he said. What he didn’t say was that the door to the closet was old and janky. What he didn’t say was that the door had a habit of not opening once it had been shut. All she had to say was fuck the coach and fuck this goddamn door.
“Hello?!” she yells, pounding on the door with both of her fists. Unfortunately the only shitty part of the door was the lock. The rest of it was strong as steel.
“Y/N?” a voice asks, moving closer to the door.
“Monty?” she asks in surprise, pressing her ear against the door. This was just fantastic. Montgomery De La Cruz of all people. Her on-again-off-again on-the-down-low hook up of all people.
“What’re you doing?” he inquires, tapping on the door with his fingers.
“I’m stuck! Help me!” she shouts, hitting the door with her fist. She reels back fast, the impact hurting a lot more than she thought it would.
“Why are you in there in the first place?” his voice rings through. He’s muffled because of the barrier, but she can still make out a mischievous undertone laced in his words.
“I didn’t do so great on the last test, so coach said he’d give me extra credit if I cleaned out the sports utility closet,” she sighs, kicking at the door this time to give her fists a break.
“Why didn’t you do so great? You’re smart, you always do well,” he smirks, knowing exactly why she didn’t do well.
“Because the only thing I was studying before that exam was your anatomy you ass hat!” she yells impulsively, instantly covering her mouth. She can’t see what’s going on outside. Half the baseball team could be there for all she knows, but thankfully the only laugh she hears is Monty’s, so he must be alone. “That means it’s half your fault that I’m stuck in here.”
“That’s fair,” he shrugs, “What do I get if I get you out?”
“I’m gonna slap that smirk off of your face,” she snaps.
“You really shouldn’t be getting temperamental with the person who can save your ass,” he tsks, jiggling the handle with his hand, “And you know, my lips won’t kiss themselves.”
“Pick up lines only work when I’m drunk,” she rolls her eyes.
“Oh I remember,” he grins, unintentionally drawing his bottom lip between his teeth.
The first time they hooked up was over the summer at a bonfire Zach was hosting. She was buzzed off straw-ber-ritas and thought that everything was absolutely hilarious. Even Monty’s stupid pick up lines. The flirty banter was playful and enticing, so much so that when she sobered up and could think clearly again she still wanted to be with him. Maybe it was the way he smiled when he spoke, or the way his fingers danced over her leg while they talked. Whatever it was got her hooked, and even now she is still drawn to him.
“What’re you thinking about?” Monty presses, noticing the silence. She can hear the smirk in his voice.
“How much I want out of this fucking closet,” she snaps back to the present moment, “I’m starting to get claustrophobic.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen, baby, I promise,” he assures.
“Not your ‘baby’,” she retorts.
“Aren’t you though?” he presses, “or do you only like the sound of that when it comes out in a moan?”
“Montgomery!”Her cheeks heat up and suddenly she’s oh-so-grateful for the door that’s separating them so he can’t see the look on her face, or the blotchy, pink stains on her cheeks. They never really talked about the things that happened that nobody else knew about. Especially not in broad daylight.
“I’m just saying,” he chuckles, yanking on the door handle. It doesn’t budge. He grabs the baseball bat he leaned against the door when he started talking to her. Good time to have baseball practice.
The clashing of metal on metal causes her to jump back. If she had to guess, she would say that Monty used something to knock the handle off the door, and her suspicion is confirmed when the door opens and Monty is standing there with his baseball in his hand the door knob laying on the ground in defeat.
“Got it,” he smiles proudly, walking into the closet.
“Monty,” she gasps, “You can’t do that. You broke the fucking door!”
“It was already broken,” he shrugs casually, “And besides, I rescued you. That’s what you wanted right?”
“I wanted someone to get me out of here. Not you specifically. Just someone,” she crosses her arms across her chest. Although she has to admit, the post-practice sweaty shimmer, and tousled hair is a good look for him.
“Well, I’m glad it was me,” he’s standing right in front of her now, trailing his hand down her tricep to test the waters. Much to his delight, she uncrosses her arms, letting them fall to her sides. He grabs both of her wrists and places them on his shoulders to which she instinctively moves her hands behind his head while he rests his forehead against hers mumbling in a near inaudible voice, “Kiss please?”
She complies without protest, tilting her head up to connect their lips. His mouth feels warmer than usual, probably from baseball practice and working up a sweat. He grips the middle of her thighs, instructing her to “jump”. She’s placed on a stack of crates so they’re more eye-level now and she wraps her legs around his waist as his hands move up and down her legs.
“Monty,” she breathes, “thanks for saving me.”
“Anytime,” he moves his mouth to her ear, “babe.”