Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you like her?” Jackie pulled out of the kiss.

“Huh?” Nat chased Jackie’s lips. When Jackie turned her head, Nat pressed wet kisses against her neck. 

“Lottie, do you like her?” Jackie pointedly asked.

Nat eagerly answered, “Yeah, I like her.” She slid her hands up and down Jackie’s sides.

Jackie’s heart plummeted. She firmly placed her hand against Nat’s chest, and put distance between herself and the amorous girl. 

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Nat’s hands rested on Jackie’s hips. She could feel the warmth of Nat’s palms through the material of her dress. 

“You like her?” Jackie’s throat was dry, and her wide eyes were watery.

“Hey,” Nat’s demeanor softened. She caressed Jackie’s hipbones with her thumbs. Jackie adored this side of her. She felt special. However, that feeling soured. Did Nat touch Lottie in the same way? Did Nat ground, Lottie? Did Nat make her feel safe? “Jack, what happened?”

“You like her.” Jackie hid her hurt with a watery laugh. 

Natalie shrugged, “Yeah, I like her. She’s our friend.” Nat slid her hands up and down Jackie’s sides. Our . Jackie closed her eyes. “Don’t say that.” She felt a desperate pang of longing for a relationship.

Nat pulled away, and took her warmth. “You don’t want me to say Lottie is our friend?” Jackie shook her head. She didn’t want to share the truth, that the word our made Jackie long for more than stolen moments behind closed doors. “Look at me, Jack.” She hesitated to open her eyes. What would Jackie see? 

“No,” She stubbornly replied. “No?” Nat chuckled. “Okay, so, you want to talk with your eyes closed? How much have you had tonight?” Jackie heard the amusement in Nat’s tone. She could see the dimpled smile on Nat’s face. Jackie wanted to open her eyes, which frustrated her. She begrudgingly opened her eyes. Nat leaned against the sink. 

“I saw you, Nat, earlier with her .” Jackie disdainfully said. Her jealousy won. 

The amusement on Nat’s face faded. “This is her house, Jackie. She’s my friend. I’m going to hang out with her.” 

“You went to her first. Then you go to me?” Jackie defensively crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m surprised you noticed, with Jeff's tongue down your throat.” Nat harshly spat out. 

“You’re not being fair. He’s my boyfriend.” Jackie argued. 

Nat nodded, “Yeah, he’s your boyfriend, Jackie. Not me. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want whenever I want to do it.”

Jackie felt nauseous. She didn’t want to think about Nat with anyone else. She knew that was hypocritical. She had Jeff. He was just a prop, a way to keep up appearances and pretend to be normal. In a hushed tone, Jackie whispered, a confession.  “I only want you to do this with me.” She desperately wanted Nat to confess that she wanted the same from Jackie.

Nat scoffed, “Princess Jackie, doesn’t get her way for once. I’m not one of your royal subjects.” She moved away from the sink for the locked bathroom door. 

Jackie held back her tears. “Going to find Lottie again?”

“Why does it matter?” Nat turned to face her.

Jackie wanted to tell Nat that she liked her a lot, that she wanted so much more. However, she doesn’t say anything. 

“I thought so.” Nat throwed the door open, and left her behind. She held her hands against her face and cried.

Chapter Text

Several hours before Jackie and Nat argue in one of the numerous Matthews estate luxurious bathrooms.

“Babe?” Jeff pawed Jackie’s hips. She felt his sweaty palms through the thin material of her dress.

He closely pressed his body against hers as they danced. Jeff was objectively attractive. He was tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, with a boyish charm. Jeff pressed his chapped lips against hers, and sloppily used his tongue and probed Jackie’s mouth. Her stomach turned. 

“Yeah?” Jackie insincerely smiled, and craned her neck.

Jeff smashed his lips against Jackie’s again, and shoved his tongue between her parted lips. Jackie giggled, and pulled back to avoid the unwanted kiss. 

Jeff heavily sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Jackie was all too familiar with the look of disappointment in his eyes these days. Jackie gently patted his chest, and pressed a chaste kiss to his stubbled jaw. “We don’t want to put on a show for half of the senior class.” She playfully winked. 

Jeff smirked, “You’re just so hot , babe, can you blame me?” He leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head to avoid it. He pressed his mouth against her neck. The intense musky smell of  citrus, and pine from Jeff's Axe Body Spray gave Jackie a headache. It was like being trapped in a  forest or a bottle of Pine-Sol. 

Jackie remembered when Jeff first started dousing himself in the smelly body spray. Her boyfriend picked her up for a date. She slid into the passenger seat. The smell overwhelmed her and she rolled down the window.

She scrunched her nose. “What smells?”

He winked, “ That’s male swagger, babe.”

She didn’t like Jeff’s short stiff hairs of stubble against her neck. “Come on, Jackie, let's go somewhere more private.” He suggestively whispered in her ear.

Jackie tensed up. If Jeff noticed he said nothing. “I’m having such a good time with you right here.”

“We could have more fun , somewhere else.” He pouted and expectantly looked at her. 

Jackie giggled, and shook her head. “And, face the wraith of Lottie Matthews? No way. It’d be so disrespectful to Lottie, you know?” His hold slackened on her waist. The last time they’d done anything was three weeks ago, Jackie reluctantly gave him a blow job. 

He whined, “Come on, Jackie. You’re like the captain of the Yellowjackets. I doubt Lottie would care about us going upstairs.”

Jeff would complain that she never wanted to do anything, and Jackie would give in to maintain her facade of perfection. She didn’t want him to find out that something was inherently wrong with her. Jeff was unknowingly part of her facade. Jackie needed him, and not in the way he wanted her to need him. 

She didn’t want to feel the clumsy jab of his finger inside of her. Jackie closed up from the pain and discomfort. 

Oh, Fuck! Jackie, you’re so tight!  

She faked noises of pleasure, and breathily moaned, That felt so good, babe . 

He would smirk, as if he’d done something, and eagerly unbuttoned his jeans. My turn.  

Jackie smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” She stood on her tip toes and pecked his chin. “I’m going to get a drink.”  She left before he could offer to go with her. The scent of his Axe Body Spray lingered in her nose. 

In the center of the Mathews kitchen, Nat sat on the marbled counter top of the kitchen island. A cigarette was pressed between her soft, pillowy lips, and a charming dimpled smile was on her face. Jackie stood near the kitchen doorway, and stared at the girl across the room. Nat suddenly looked at Jackie. She was caught, and her face flushed. Nat stared at Jackie, her eyebrows were partially raised. She looked surprised to see her. It happened so quickly, Jackie thought she’d imagined the soft look on Nat’s face. Jackie’s heart fluttered, all the same. 

Nat smirked, and Jackie wanted to kiss that irritatingly hot smile off her face. She felt a needy throb between her thighs. Nat didn’t even need to touch her. Jackie couldn’t explain the longing she felt to be close to Nat. It felt like an invisible magnet guided her to Nat. 

Jackie's hand was on Nat’s arm, and Jackie leaned in to talk. It wasn’t necessary. She wanted to be as close to Nat as reasonably possible in front of her peers. “Hey,” Jackie bashfully smiled.

Nat had that surprised look on her face again. Jackie felt self conscious. Maybe Nat didn't want her around? 

“I just wanted -”

“You look -”

They spoke at the same time. Jackie giggled. Nat smiled, and lifted her hand. Jackie held her breath both in anticipation and in fear. She badly wanted Nat to touch her. Jackie knew they could only do this behind closed doors. Maybe, Nat sensed that, because she lowered her hand. “What were you going to say?” 

Nat didn’t get the chance to answer. Lottie came out of nowhere and threw arm around Nat’s shoulders. Jackie quickly pulled her hand off of Nat’s arm. “Hey,” Lottie held out her hand and motioned to Nat’s cigarette, and she gave her cigarette to Lottie. “Jeff, is looking for you.” She smoked the cigarette, Lottie’s lips were where Nat’s had been. Jackie thought about Nat’s lips connected to Lottie’s in the same way they did with Jackie.  

“Thanks, Lot.” Jackie chirpily replied. Lottie questioningly raised her eyebrow. “I should probably go and find him.”

Nat scoffed into her red solo cup. “You wouldn’t want to keep Prince Charming waiting.” Lottie playfully jostled Nat’s shoulders. She laughed, “Be nice. Or am I going to have to send you to my room?” Jackie frowned. She didn’t want to think about Nat in Lottie’s bedroom. Nat laughed, and playfully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, what a punishment that’d be, Lot.” 

It hurt to see Nat and Lottie’s familiarity with each other. Jackie felt like she was being cheated on. Ironic, right? She knew that was a ridiculous thought. What she was doing with Nat was just for fun, right? So, why did the thought of Nat doing what she does with Lottie hurt? 

Jackie had Jeff. Maybe Nat had Lottie? She didn’t want to think about that but she couldn’t ignore what was in front of her. Jackie understood Nat was attracted to Lottie. She was statuesque, dark hair, dark eyes, with a gorgeous smile. Lottie was effortlessly cool and fashionable. She wore a baby doll mini dress with a denim bodice and a floral print skirt paired with broken in black Dr Martens with purple laces. 

The taller girl comfortably hung off of Nat and smoked her cigarette, unbothered about potentially being stared at and whispered about. Jackie was worried about what everyone would think, if she had her arm around Nat. 

Lottie didn’t care about that, and neither did Nat. Lottie didn’t need to be the Queen of Wiskayok High, more importantly she didn’t want to because Lottie Matthews was above it all, and she was above Jackie Taylor. She handed the cigarette back to Nat. “Thanks for leaving me enough for a puff, Lot.” Lottie cheekily smiled, and glided away. “You’re welcome.”

Jackie was irrationally upset, Nat’s cigarette was between her lips again, where Lottie’s mouth was and Jackie wanted to yank the cigarette from Nat’s mouth and stomp on it. She wanted Nat all to herself. She’d make Nat forget about Lottie. She shyly asked, “Do you want to hangout ?” 

Jackie loved when Nat kissed her languidly, and coaxed moans of pleasure out of her. Nat was an incredible kisser, and she knew it. Nat licked into her mouth, and Jackie wantonly moaned against Nat’s tongue. 

She tightened her arms around Nat’s neck, and pulled the girl deeper into their kiss. Nat groaned, and pulled back. Her face was flushed, and her flirtatious smirk was insufferably hot. Did she know what she did to Jackie? Her underwear was damp, and she longed for Nat’s hand to slide underneath the waistband.

Nat rested her forehead against Jackie’s, and Nat’s nose brushed against her’s. She felt the warmth of Nat’s breath against her lips. “Should we go back downstairs?” Jackie quickly shook her head. Nat laughed, and her dimpled smile made Jackie’s heart rapidly beat. She pressed a teasing and playful kiss against the corner of Nat’s mouth.

“I think it was you that said we shouldn’t stay up here too long.” Nat’s arms were casually wrapped around Jackie’s waist. Jackie's arms comfortably rested on Nat’s shoulders. Nat held Jackie with care, just loose enough to feel free and firm enough to feel safe. The subtle scent of Nat’s hand rolled clove cigarettes with a hint of vanilla was sweet and spicy like Nat. 

She hid her face against Nat’s neck and shamelessly breathed in Nat’s scent between kisses against the soft and warm skin of  her neck. “I changed my mind.” She slowly carded her fingers through Natalie’s bleached blonde hair.

“Jack,” Nat breathily whispered, and squeezed Jackie’s hips.

“What, baby?” The words slipped from Jackie’s lips. Nat’s eyes widened. Jackie smiled and playfully tilted her head with a lifted eyebrow. Nat pulled back, and for a moment, Jackie thought she’d ruined things. She saw the softness of Nat’s face combined with confusion and surprise. 

“Jack,” Nat earnestly repeated. Her lips parted to say more, but no other words followed. She slowly slid her hands up Jackie’s back. She loved the warmth and gentleness of Natalie’s hands, and arousal coursed through her body. Jackie uselessly squeezed her thighs together. Nat slid her hands onto the sides of Jackie’s face, and her stomach fluttered. Nat caressed Jackie’s cheeks with her thumbs. “You’re beautiful, Jackie.” Nat leaned back in to kiss her. 

Nat’s harmless words felt like cold water was dumped on her. She thought about Lottie, and how gorgeous she looked tonight in her mini babydoll dress. The way Nat looked at her. The physical closeness and the cigarette they shared. Jackie pulled back. Her insecurity gnawed at her. She asked, afraid of the answer. “Do you like her?”

“Huh?” Nat chased Jackie’s lips with a dimpled smile. Jackie turned her head. Nat pressed wet kisses up and down her neck. Jackie sighed with pleasure. It was difficult to focus. “Lottie, do you like her?” She pointedly asked, fueled by insecurity and jealousy. 

Jackie didn’t see Nat for the rest of the night.

She spent her time with Shauna, and purposefully avoided Jeff. She didn’t want him to touch her. 

She thought about Nat’s face, her blue eyes and irritatingly hot smirk. She felt the tenderness of her hands and the warmth of Nat’s body against her’s. 

Jackie resisted the urge to push Jeff’s hand off of her thigh. She placed her hand over his and he looked at her with a dopey grin on his face. She half heartedly smiled and Jeff squeezed her thigh. She looked out of the passenger window. Where was Nat? Was she alone or with Lottie? She felt nauseous, and the alcohol churned in her empty stomach. Jeff’s smelly body spray filled the car, and added to her nausea. Did he bathe in it? Has his smell always been this suffocating? She rolled down the window, to let in the cool night air, closed her eyes and deeply breathed in and out. 

“Jackie,” Jeff hesitantly spoke up. “Are you mad at me or something?” Jackie looked at the Taylor's colonial styled house. The lights were out, not even the porch light was left on for her, that meant her mother was zonked out on xanax. The outside of the home was beautiful, right out of the pages of ‘Better Homes and Gardens’ magazine, but the interior was devoid of any warmth projected by the exterior of the house. 

Jackie regretted not going home to Shauna’s for the night. However, her best friend was moody and brooding tonight, and Jackie was exhausted by the thought of trying to figure out what was wrong with Shauna, and try to make it better. 

“Did Shauna like say something to you about me?” He stared straight ahead, and clutched the steering wheel. 

Jackie’s eyebrows dipped with confusion, and she looked over at Jeff. “Why would Shauna say something about you?” 

“You spent the entire party with her.” He whined. 

When she spent time with Shauna, Jeff  would accuse Jackie of spending more with her than him. When she spent time with Jeff, Shauna would be moody and pointedly sarcastic. She felt that her boyfriend and bestfriend played a game of tug and war with her in the middle. Jackie tried to give them an equal amount of time, but she always ended up disappointing one of them. 

Jackie didn’t want to argue. She just wanted to collapse into her bed. She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah?” Jeff grinned, 

Jackie nodded, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” She quickly made her escape, and got out of his car before he could kiss her.

Jackie’s fluffy comforter was pulled up to her shoulders. She laid in bed on her side, and stared at the dark night between the parted curtains. Her vulnerable words played on a loop in her mind. 

I only want you to do this with me. I only want you to do this with me. I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me.  I only want you to do this with me…

She only wanted Nat to do this with her, and Jackie only wanted to do this with Nat. Her eyes were shiny with tears. She wasn’t like that . No, she had a boyfriend, Jeff was handsome, popular, and her parents approved of him. He fit into the life that was mapped out for her. The perfect guy to be her highschool boyfriend, and Jackie wasn’t attracted to him. She was broken and didn’t know how to fix herself. A series of unexpected and sporadic clinks against her bedroom window, distracted Jackie from her troubled thoughts. 

She got out of her bed, and walked over to the window, and the noises stopped. Jackie looked for the source of the noises, and hidden in the dark of night was Nat. Jackie opened her window, and poked her head out. “Nat?” She whispered down to the girl. 

“Making a grand gesture. Can I come up, Jack?” Jackie nodded, “Be careful,” Nat quickly moved up the trellis, and reached the top and climbed in Jackie’s window with her help, a triumphant dimpled grin was on her face. Nat leaned against the windowsill, and she looked Jackie over. “Hey, Jack, I like your sleep shirt.”

Jackie looked down at her oversized color block sleep shirt. Why couldn’t Nat have climbed in her window when Jackie was wearing a cute matching set of pajamas. She walked over to her bedroom door and locked it. She didn’t think her mother was going to wake up, her mother was knocked out on pills, she was out for the night. Still, she was afraid and locked the door. “What’re you doing here?”

Nat shrugged and shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “I don’t know.” She looked down. Jackie walked over. “Hey,” She softly whispered, and gently tilted Nat’s head up. “I want you here, I just want to know why.” 

Nat’s eyes darted away. “Did you mean what you said?” 

I only want you to do this with me. 

Jackie’s stomach dropped. “I’m so embarrassed. I drank way too much.” 

Nat nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense.” She said more to herself than Jackie. “Yeah, I should go. I’m going to go.” She slid Jackie’s hands off her face, and turned to the window, and then turned back to Jackie. She looked vulnerable, her face was soft and her eyes were apprehensive. She whispered her confession. “She’s not you, Jack.” Jackie knew she meant Lottie. 

“I want to be the only one that gets to hold you,” She wrapped an arm around Jackie’s waist, and pulled her flush against her body. “I want to be the only one who touches you,” She used her other hand to cradle Jackie’s face. “I want to be the only one who kisses you.”  Her blue eyes asked for permission, and Jackie nodded her consent. Nat reverently kissed her. “I only want to do those things with you.” She rested her forehead against Jackie’s. “And, I only want you to do them with me.” 

Jackie was in a state of disbelief. Nat wanted Jackie. “I just want you, Jack.” She held onto Nat’s shoulders, but pulled back and gazed into Nat’s blue eyes. Nat was being honest, and open and Jackie understood that wasn’t easy for Nat.. “I think I love you, Jack.”

Jackie threw her arms around Nat’s neck and kissed her soundly on the lips. Jackie felt warmth that bloomed in her chest, and traveled through her body. “Stay.”

Jackie stirred in her sleep, reached out for Nat, but there was only a cold empty spot in her bed. She opened her eyes, and looked around her dark bedroom. There was no trace of Nat being there because she wasn’t there. It was just a dream that Jackie desperately wanted to be reality.

She was so fucked.

Chapter Text

Fall - 1996

“Babe?”

Jeff’s hands were on Jackie’s hips again—clumsy, damp, like he didn’t know what to do with them besides hold on. His palms soaked straight through the thin, silk-blend fabric of her dress, and he had that look on his face again. The one that made her stomach twist. Not with nerves or butterflies. With dread. With the kind of creeping discomfort that lived under her skin.

They swayed to the music in the dim, crowded living room of Lottie Matthews’ house, one of those sprawling colonial homes with too many hallways and too few parents. The lights were low. The stereo bass was slow and low, vibrating the floorboards beneath her feet. Jeff pressed against her like it meant something. Like this was supposed to be romantic. Intimate.

But it wasn’t.

It was all elbows and teenage hunger and Axe Body Spray. So much Axe. God. It clung to him like a second skin—sharp citrus over pine, thick in the air, invasive. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but it followed.

Jeff leaned in and kissed her again, all tongue and pressure, no finesse. His lips were dry and chapped, catching against hers like sandpaper. His tongue moved too fast, too hard, like he was trying to get somewhere she hadn’t agreed to go. Jackie resisted the instinct to pull back.

She didn’t. Not visibly.

Instead, she tilted her neck and gave him the practiced smile she always used when she needed a second to think. “Yeah?”

He groaned into her ear, grinding closer.

Jackie giggled—light, performative, airy—and leaned back just enough to dodge him. She moved like someone used to dodging. Like someone used to playing nice.

His shoulders sank a little. That pouty look settled on his face again—wounded pride and quiet frustration. It was familiar now. It had become a feature of their relationship, this unspoken loop of want and avoidance.

She rose on her toes and kissed him on the jaw, featherlight and calculated. “We don’t want to put on a show for half the senior class,” she said, throwing in a wink, easy and empty.

That flipped the switch. Just like always.

His smirk returned like nothing had happened. “You’re just so hot, babe. Can you blame me?”

He leaned in again, like it was owed.

Jackie let him kiss her cheek this time, careful to angle her face just in time. His lips still dragged across her skin—wet, eager, invasive. The scratch of his stubble followed, leaving behind an invisible scrape.

And still, the Axe. It hit her like a wall. She gagged a little, but swallowed it down.

She remembered the first time he wore it—months ago. He picked her up in his Jeep Wagoneer, newly bought, gleaming in the driveway like a trophy. She’d slid into the passenger seat and winced.

“What smells?” she’d asked, scrunching her nose.

“That’s male swagger, babe,” he’d said, grinning like he thought it was sexy.

She laughed then. Rolled down the window.

Now, it made her feel trapped.

Jeff’s stubble scratched her neck again. She had to fight the urge to recoil. His mouth hovered too close to her ear. “Come on, Jackie,” he murmured, trying for seductive. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Her entire body went rigid. If he noticed, he said nothing. Or maybe he noticed and didn’t care.

“I’m having such a good time with you right here,” she said, tone light and pleasant, her default. Her practiced way of saying no without saying it.

“We could have more fun somewhere else,” he insisted, brushing his lips along her earlobe. His hand slid lower on her back, settling just above the curve of her ass.

Jackie tensed again. Her smile didn’t falter.

“And face the wrath of Lottie Matthews?” she teased, nodding toward the stairs. “That’d be, like, criminally disrespectful. It’s her party, you know?”

Jeff pulled back slightly, frowning. He didn’t say it, but she saw it in his face. The last time they’d fooled around was three weeks ago. A reluctant blowjob in the back of his car. She hadn’t wanted to. Not really. But he’d whined. Pressured. Acted like it was a test of how much she cared. So she did it. Just to shut him up.

The way he’d moaned—God. Like he thought it was foreplay. Like her silence meant something other than tolerance.

“Come on, Jackie,” he said again. “You’re, like, the captain of the Yellowjackets. Lottie wouldn’t care.”

She didn’t respond right away. Just kept her face soft. Kept up the performance.

That’s all it was. A performance.

Jeff didn’t know he was part of a script. That he’d been cast in a role long before either of them had choices. The golden boy. The boyfriend. The one everyone thought she was supposed to want.

He was safe. Expected. Picture-perfect.

He was a prop.

He didn’t see her—really see her. Not beyond what he wanted from her. He never noticed when she tensed. He never asked if she was okay. He didn’t even realize she wasn’t kissing him back.

He thought she liked it.

She remembered the last time he touched her—fingers shoved into her without warning. No rhythm, no care. Just friction and discomfort.

Oh fuck, Jackie, you’re so tight.

She’d gasped. Not in pleasure. But he grinned like he’d won something.

He’d fumbled with his belt after that, murmuring, My turn.

Now she looked at him with soft eyes and a sweet smile, but her heart was a stone in her chest.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she said, brushing her lips across his chin. “Promise.”

She slipped away before he could follow.

The hallway outside was mercifully cooler. Quieter. The music still throbbed underfoot, but the pounding in her ears was louder.

She rubbed at her nose, trying to wipe the Axe from her skin like it might come off if she scrubbed hard enough.

Jackie moved past framed family photos and over a Persian runner that probably cost more than her whole closet. The bathroom door was closed—someone was crying behind it. A couple made out halfway up the stairs. Somewhere, glass shattered.

This was high school. This was normal. This was supposed to be fun.

But Jackie’s stomach had twisted into a knot she couldn’t untangle.

She leaned against the wall and let out a breath. It didn’t help.

She didn’t want to be touched like that again.

Not by Jeff.

Not by someone who didn’t see her—really see her.

Not unless it was Nat.

****

Nat didn't want to be here. That was the truth of it.

She sat slouched in the passenger seat of Kevyn's hand-me-down Toyota Corolla, the windows cracked to let out the faint smell of the leftover smoke from their last joint. The familiar buzz of nerves made her fingers twitch, and she cracked her knuckles against her jeans as Kevyn pulled onto Lottie Matthews' street.

Lottie's house came into view like a stage set—big, ivy-wrapped, glowing with too many lights. You could hear the bass from half a block away. Nat exhaled slowly, then rolled down the window the rest of the way and lit a cigarette.

"Still time to bail," Kevyn said around a grin, glancing at her.

Nat smirked and took a drag. "And miss out on free booze and watching our classmates pretend they're in a John Hughes movie? Not a chance."

He laughed and parked behind a line of other cars. "You're a masochist, you know that?"

"Occupational hazard," she muttered, flicking ash out the window.

They walked up the front steps together—Nat in her worn leather jacket and scuffed combat boots, Kevyn in a faded hoodie and beat-up Converse that had once been white. The door was already cracked open, the music spilling out in thick pulses of bass and echoing laughter.

Inside, the house was hot and noisy, and bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. Someone had turned off all but the dimmest lights. Beer bottles littered every surface. Nat made a beeline for the kitchen.

The chef's kitchen in the Matthews' house was ridiculous—double ovens, granite countertops, one of those massive industrial fridges that could fit a body. Nat found the liquor clustered in a corner by the fridge, an entire bar's worth of half-empty bottles someone had liberated from their parents' stash.

She didn't bother with mixers.

She poured a generous splash of rum, then tequila, and something else she didn't even bother identifying into a red Solo cup. The smell alone could peel paint. She downed half in one go, wincing only slightly.

Kevyn came in behind her, grabbing a beer from the counter. "Jesus, Nat."

She grinned around her cup. "It's a party."

He lifted his beer in a mock toast. "To bad decisions."

They drank. Nat poured herself a little more.

Kevyn didn't say anything else, just leaned his hip against the counter and talked about some nonsense from school—Coach Martinez being a dick at practice, someone falling asleep in chem lab, the usual. Nat was half-listening, nodding in all the right places. It was nice. Kevyn had this way of filling space without demanding anything from her.

It helped. It kept Nat from thinking too hard about who might be here. Who she definitely wasn't looking for.

Jackie.

She and Jackie hadn't spoken much lately. Not really. Not since that night in Mari's basement when Jackie had touched her arm and said, "You make it really hard to pretend I don't think about this," before leaning in close, too close. Nothing had happened—not exactly—but Nat still thought about it every night. It was a moment that had left a lingering, unspoken tension between them.

And then Jackie had gone back to pretending, back to Jeff. Back to the script of being the perfect girlfriend, the one who always had a smile on her face and never let her guard down. The script that didn't leave room for her true feelings, or for Nat.

She kept her eyes on Kevyn, on the floor, on the smoke curling from the incense someone lit in the living room. Anywhere but the crowd.

But eventually they moved—drifted through the hallway, past the coat closet, looping back toward the living room where the stereo had taken over and people were dancing in drunken clumps. Nat's drink sloshed in her hand, the burn of it keeping her grounded.

And then she saw her.

Jackie.

In the middle of the room, lit up by a string of fairy lights, someone had tangled around a curtain rod. She was dancing with Jeff.

Jeff's hands were all over her—one low on her waist, the other skimming dangerously close to the hem of her dress. Jackie looped around his neck like she was comfortable there. Like she wanted to be there.

She was laughing and smiling up at Jeff with that perfect, effortless smile.

Something sharp bloomed in Nat's chest.

She froze. Just watched. Like some pathetic girl in the third act of a rom-com, invisible in the crowd while the golden couple danced beneath a spotlight.

Jackie didn't see her.

Of course, she didn't.

"Shit," Nat said under her breath. She turned fast enough to slosh her drink down her hand.

Kevyn looked over, concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Nat lied. "Gotta piss. I'll catch up with you later."

He nodded, already distracted by someone calling his name from the hallway.

Nat didn't head for the bathroom. She ducked back into the kitchen, still quiet compared to the rest of the house.

She set her drink on the kitchen island with a hollow clack. She hopped up beside it, legs dangling off the edge. From her jacket pocket, she pulled a hand-rolled cigarette, lit it with a cheap plastic lighter, and inhaled deeply.

The smoke coiled into her lungs, sharp and grounding.

She stared at the tiled floor.

She didn't want to feel anything at all. But her chest still ached.

Jackie hadn't seen her. Or maybe she had, and it didn't matter.

She could still picture it—Jackie's arms draped around Jeff's neck, the softness in her eyes when she smiled at him like he was the only one in the room.

As if he were the one she wanted.

It wasn't even jealousy, not really. It was a deep sense of grief. Nat had felt it-the real thing-for a second, for a breath. That one moment, Jackie had almost let the mask slip. And now here she was again, smiling for someone else and playing her part.

 Because Nat had felt it—the real thing—for a second. For a breath. That one moment, Jackie had almost let the mask slip. And now here she was again, smiling for someone else and playing her part.

The smoke curled upward, and Nat blinked at the ceiling, her throat tight.

"Fuck," she muttered, flicking ash into the sink.

She didn't want to care.

But she did.

And it was going to ruin her.

Jackie made her way through the crowd with her practiced smile locked in place—tight and dazzling, just the way people expected. A little tilt of the head, a hand brushing her hair back like a shampoo commercial. Perfect. Effortless. Empty.

Someone called her name.

Shauna. Of course.

Jackie turned with automatic brightness, still smiling, and there was her best friend leaning against the banister with a red cup in hand, cheeks flushed—probably from Malibu and milk, or from the crush of bodies and the heat in the house. Jackie drifted toward her on cue.

“Hey, stranger,” Shauna said with a grin. “You and Jeff disappear to make out behind a ficus or something?”

Jackie laughed on reflex, crisp and easy. “God, no. He’s just—horny and clingy. Like a puppy that learned how to unzip jeans.”

Shauna wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“Tell me about it.” Jackie glanced at her. “You look good, though.”

Shauna rolled her eyes, smiling. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.” Jackie’s grin sharpened, then softened just as quickly.

They stood like that for a beat. Long enough for Jackie to feel the muscles in her face start to ache from holding the mask in place. Long enough for the warmth in her chest—the good kind, the “Shauna still knows me” kind—to start curdling into something harder. Sharper. More hollow.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” Jackie said, brushing her fingertips against Shauna’s arm like punctuation. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Shauna said, still smiling, still glowing a little from the Malibu and milk and the party and the easy comfort of knowing who she was in every room.

Jackie slipped away before the mask cracked.

She moved into the side hallway, away from the music and the humid press of people. It was quieter here, the sound of the stereo muffled under layers of drywall and doorframes. The air felt cooler against her flushed skin. She wasn’t really thirsty. She just needed air. Space. A reason to not be looked at.

Every room she passed felt like its own self-contained mess. Someone sobbing in a powder room, a couple whisper-arguing halfway up the stairs, a cluster of junior guys in backwards caps screaming over beer pong rules like it was life or death. All of it washed over her like static.

She turned toward the kitchen.

And stopped cold.

In the center of the Matthews’ kitchen sat Natalie Scatorccio.

Nat. Of course.

Perched on the marble kitchen island like it belonged to her. A cigarette—hand-rolled, obviously—tucked between her lips, glowing faintly in the low light. Her combat boots dangled off the counter’s edge, worn laces hanging loose. Smoke haloed her in a lazy swirl, curling upward toward the pot rack above her head.

She looked like she’d been carved out of the kind of daydream Jackie didn’t let herself have. Like a warning and a promise all at once.

Nat wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Just sitting there, existing like she had nothing to prove. Like the kitchen, the house, the whole fucking world belonged to her.

Jackie felt something hitch in her chest.

She hadn’t meant to find her. She wasn’t even sure if she’d been looking. But now that she had, she couldn’t look away.

Then Nat looked up.

Their eyes met, and the air between them changed. Sharpened. Stilled.

For a fraction of a second, something raw and unguarded flickered across Nat’s face—her brows lifted, her lips parted, surprise flashing like a bulb behind her eyes. It was gone in an instant, but Jackie felt it like a slap.

Her breath caught. Heat crept up her neck.

Nat’s mouth curled into a smirk.

That infuriating, devastating smirk—the one Jackie had tried to forget and couldn’t. The one that made her stomach twist and her chest feel too tight.

Jackie moved before she knew what she was doing. One step. Then another. The room shrank around her. She could hear her own heartbeat, fast and fluttering.

Nat didn’t move. Just watched her come closer. Like she wanted her to.

Jackie reached the island. Her hand found Nat’s arm without thought, her fingers brushing soft against Nat’s leather jacket. It was nothing. A whisper of contact. But her whole body lit up like it meant everything.

She leaned in.

Close enough to smell the sharp burn of tobacco, the worn leather of Nat’s jacket, the faint clean scent of shampoo that always smelled like pine and something warmer underneath.

“Hey,” Jackie said. Her voice was soft, barely there. She didn’t trust it to hold steady. A smile tugged at her lips—shy, unpracticed, and real.

Nat blinked, like she was waking up inside a dream.

“I just wanted—” Jackie began.

“You look—” Nat said at the same time.

They stopped.

Jackie giggled. It wasn’t performative. It slipped out before she could control it—quiet and crooked and real in a way her party laughs never were.

Nat smiled too. Not a grin. Just a shift. One side of her mouth curving up like she didn’t mean to.

She lifted her hand, slow and hesitant—like she might touch Jackie’s face, brush a strand of hair behind her ear, or do something else reckless.

Jackie didn’t move. Her breath hitched. She wanted it. God, she wanted it.

But Nat hesitated.

Her hand dropped.

The moment cracked open and fell away.

“What were you going to say?” Nat asked, voice low.

Jackie wet her lips. Her tongue felt too big in her mouth. The words were gone.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Just… glad you’re here.”

Nat’s smile dimmed. Not in a bad way. In a way that meant she’d heard it. Felt it.

Jackie burned with the urge to kiss her.

Right here. In the middle of Lottie Matthews’ kitchen in front of all the people who didn’t know what this meant.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she let her hand stay on Nat’s arm for one second longer than polite. She memorized the feeling.

Then she stepped back.

And the world kept turning. The music thumped from the living room. Somewhere down the hall, a girl shrieked with laughter. Nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

Because even if no one else had seen it, even if no one else could, she and Nat had cracked something open.

And Jackie—golden girl, perfect daughter, untouchable girlfriend—wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to seal it shut again.

Lottie came out of nowhere, all perfume and confidence and unbothered ease, and draped an arm around Nat’s shoulders like she belonged there. She leaned in, her voice low and sugar-sweet. “Hey.”

She held out her hand with an open palm and a playful tilt of her head.

Nat didn’t hesitate. She passed her cigarette over without a word.

Jackie watched Lottie place it between her lips—the same cigarette Nat had just been smoking—and inhale like she owned the moment. Smoke curled up around her face, soft and silvery, and for one breathless second, Jackie couldn’t look away.

Lottie’s lips were where Nat’s had been. Jackie’s stomach twisted.

“Jeff’s looking for you,” Lottie said, exhaling a lazy plume of smoke.

Jackie blinked. “Thanks, Lot,” she replied, her voice too cheerful, too chirpy. The kind of tone she used when she was trying too hard to sound unaffected.

Lottie tilted her head slightly, as if she could hear the strain in Jackie’s voice. Her brow arched—subtle, but sharp. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to.

Jackie straightened. “I should probably go find him.”

From beside her, Nat let out a short laugh into her red Solo cup, muffled and bitter. “You wouldn’t want to keep Prince Charming waiting.”

Lottie gave Nat a playful bump with her shoulder, grinning. “Be nice. Or am I going to have to send you to my room?”

Jackie’s heart thudded unevenly.

Nat laughed. Loud and reckless and casual, the way she did when she didn’t care who was listening. “Yeah, what a punishment that’d be, Lot.”

Jackie didn’t laugh.

She didn’t smile.

She didn’t say anything at all.

Because she didn’t want to think about Nat in Lottie’s bedroom. Didn’t want to picture Nat sprawled out on Lottie’s lavender duvet, boots kicked off and shirt half-unbuttoned, a cigarette burning in a glass ashtray beside the bed. Didn’t want to imagine Lottie lighting it for her and leaning in close. Lips brushing. Hands wandering.

It was a stupid thing to be jealous of.

Stupid, petty, and completely irrational.

But Jackie felt it anyway.

The ache in her chest. The sour twist in her gut. The childish urge to scream.

She told herself it didn’t matter. What she had with Nat wasn’t serious. Wasn’t anything. It wasn’t like they were together. Not really. Not in a way that counted. It was just a few kisses, a few nights, a handful of touches that lingered too long.

It was supposed to be for fun.

So why did it feel like cheating, watching Lottie blow smoke past Nat’s cheek like it was nothing?

Jackie had Jeff. And maybe Nat had Lottie.

She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to believe it. But she also couldn’t ignore what was right in front of her.

Lottie was everything Jackie wasn’t. Statuesque and untouchable, with that dreamy kind of beauty that felt accidental. Like she didn’t even know how stunning she was, or didn’t care. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, a little tangled from dancing. Her skin was flushed and glowing, and she wore a babydoll mini dress with a denim bodice and a floral skirt that ended mid-thigh. Her boots were worn black Docs with purple laces, scuffed at the toes but somehow still cooler than anything Jackie owned.

And she looked good next to Nat.

Too good.

The two of them stood there like they’d done this a hundred times—sharing cigarettes, bumping shoulders, teasing each other like it meant something.

Lottie didn’t care if people stared.

She didn’t care about whispers or reputations or what anyone thought.

Jackie did.

Jackie always did.

She couldn’t imagine wrapping an arm around Nat in the middle of a party like it was no big deal. Couldn’t imagine kissing her where people might see.

But Lottie could. And Nat—Nat let her.

Maybe that was the difference.

Lottie didn’t need to be the queen of Wiskayok High. She didn’t want to be. She was above it—above the parties, the gossip, the thrones. And above Jackie, too.

Lottie exhaled a final puff of smoke and handed the cigarette back to Nat, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Thanks for leaving me enough for a puff, Lot,” Nat murmured as she slipped the cigarette back between her lips.

“You’re welcome,” Lottie replied breezily. And then she was gone. Floating off through the crowd like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Jackie watched her disappear.

Then she looked back at Nat.

The cigarette was still between her lips—still warm from Lottie’s mouth—and Jackie wanted to rip it away. She wanted to stomp it out under her shoe. She wanted to grab Nat’s hand and pull her out of the house and into the dark and make her forget Lottie ever existed.

She wanted Nat to look at her the way she looked at Lottie, like she wasn’t afraid.

“Do you want to hang out?” she asked softly.

Nat turned toward her, surprised.

And Jackie smiled again.

Not the polished, perfect kind.

But something smaller. Something that trembled.

Something that hoped.

****

The bathroom was quiet except for their breathing—soft, shallow, tangled together like the rest of them. The door was locked. The party downstairs pulsed like a distant heartbeat, muffled by tile and drywall and the closeness between their bodies.

Jackie loved when Nat kissed her like this—slow and deliberate, with a confidence that made Jackie dizzy. Every movement of Nat’s mouth felt earned, studied, intentional. She kissed like someone who’d known what hunger was and now refused to go unsatisfied. And Jackie—pressed against the vanity, dress bunched slightly at her hips, Nat’s hands warm at her waist—didn’t want to be anywhere else.

She moaned softly into Nat’s mouth, letting the sound slip past her lips without shame. Nat tasted like cloves and cheap vodka and something inherently her—bitter and sweet and absolutely addicting.

Jackie tightened her arms around Nat’s neck, fingers fisting in her hair. She wanted more. More heat, more friction, more of Nat’s weight pressed against her body until all the aching parts of her were soothed by it.

Nat groaned quietly, pulling back just enough to breathe, her lips red and swollen, her cheeks flushed. That smirk—the one Jackie both hated and craved—made its familiar appearance.

God, did Nat know what she did to her?

Did she understand how unbearable it was to be touched like this but not touched there? Jackie was aching. Her underwear was damp. Her thighs pressed together with instinct more than thought. She wanted Nat’s hands on her, under fabric, inside her.

But Nat just leaned in and rested her forehead against Jackie’s, and for a moment, it was enough.

Their noses brushed. Their breaths mingled.

“Should we go back downstairs?” Nat whispered, voice low and teasing.

Jackie shook her head without thinking. “No way,” she said, too quickly. Too desperate.

Nat chuckled, the sound low and warm. It rumbled through Jackie’s chest like a second heartbeat. Her grin deepened—dimples flashing, flirtation blooming—and Jackie couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and kissed the corner of Nat’s mouth, half-teasing, half-pleading, wholly reluctant to let the moment end.

“I think it was you who said we shouldn’t stay up here too long,” Nat murmured, arms circling Jackie’s waist. She held her like she always did—just loose enough to make Jackie feel like she could run, just tight enough to make her want to stay.

Jackie’s hands settled on Nat’s shoulders. She pressed her cheek into the curve of her neck and kissed her there, once, then again. The skin was soft and warm beneath her lips, and Nat’s scent—clove smoke and something vanilla-sweet—wrapped around Jackie like a blanket she didn’t want to leave.

“I changed my mind,” Jackie whispered into her skin.

Her fingers threaded slowly through Nat’s bleached-blonde hair, and Nat shuddered under her touch.

“Jack,” Nat breathed. Her hands slid lower, settling at Jackie’s hips. She squeezed gently, like she was holding on for dear life.

“What, baby?” Jackie said—soft, natural, instinctive.

And then everything shifted.

Nat stilled.

Her eyes widened like Jackie had spoken an incantation.

Jackie blinked at her, a playful smile on her lips, eyebrows raised as if daring her to make a big deal out of it. But inside, something fluttered. Broke loose. She’d said it without thinking—and now she couldn’t take it back.

“Jack…” Nat said again, voice lower now, less playful, more sincere. There was something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe. Or tenderness. Maybe even fear.

Jackie didn’t know what she expected her to say. But instead of words, Nat brought her hands up—slow, reverent—and cradled Jackie’s face between her palms.

Jackie melted.

Her whole body swayed into Nat’s touch. The way her thumbs stroked her cheeks—gentle, grounding—sent arousal spiraling through her belly. Jackie’s pulse throbbed in her throat. Her skin buzzed. She squeezed her thighs together again, almost involuntarily.

“You’re beautiful, Jackie,” Nat whispered.

Then she kissed her.

And it should’ve been perfect.

It was almost perfect.

But the words—You’re beautiful—hit Jackie like a glass of cold water. The warmth in her chest cracked, fractured. Because behind her closed eyes, she saw someone else.

Lottie. Towering and cool and untouchable. That effortless confidence. That babydoll dress with the denim bodice and the floral skirt. The black Docs with the purple laces. Jackie saw her too clearly—leaning into Nat’s side, laughing at something only they shared, lips wrapped around a cigarette Nat had just smoked.

Jackie flinched.

She pulled back from the kiss, her heart twisting.

“Do you like her?” The question tumbled out before she could stop it. Sharp. Exposed.

Nat blinked, confused but still smiling. “Huh?”

Jackie turned her head away, but Nat didn’t retreat. She pressed wet kisses to Jackie’s neck, trying to lure her back into the moment. It almost worked.

Almost.

“Lottie,” Jackie clarified, her voice firm now. “Do you like her?”

Nat didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I like her.” Her hands slid up and down Jackie’s sides, like they were still playing the same game.

But Jackie wasn’t playing anymore.

Her heart sank. She placed a hand on Nat’s chest and pushed—just enough to create space. Not enough to make a scene. Just enough to breathe.

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Nat asked gently. Her hands rested lightly at Jackie’s waist. Her touch was still tender. It didn’t help.

“You like her?” Jackie asked again, barely above a whisper. Her eyes were glassy. Her voice shook.

Nat’s expression softened. She stroked Jackie’s hips with her thumbs. Jackie had always loved that about her—that instinct to comfort. To care.

But now it felt like cruelty.

Did she touch Lottie the same way?

“Jack…” Nat said. “What happened?”

Jackie let out a hollow laugh. “You like her.”

“Yes,” Nat said again. “She’s my friend.”

“Don’t say that,” she said, the words trembling.

Nat pulled back. “You don’t want me to say Lottie is my friend?”

Jackie shook her head.

She couldn’t explain why. Not without saying it out loud. Not without admitting that she wanted more. That she wanted all of Nat’s time, all of her attention. That every stolen kiss, every late-night touch had built something real in Jackie’s chest.

And now it was unraveling.

“Look at me, Jack.”

Jackie didn’t move.

“Seriously?” Nat tried again, her voice laced with bemusement. “You’re gonna pout now? How much have you had tonight?”

Jackie could hear the smile behind her words. Could picture the dimples, the crooked grin. But it made her feel worse.

She opened her eyes reluctantly.

Nat was leaning back against the sink, casual again, like nothing had changed.

“I saw how you were with her earlier,” Jackie said, her voice tight.

Nat’s smile disappeared. Nat’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my friend. I’m surprised you took the time away from Jeff’s tongue down your throat to notice.”

Jackie flinched.

“That’s not fair,” she said. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Nat crossed her arms. “Exactly. He’s your boyfriend, Jackie. Not me. So I can do what I want. With whoever I want. Whenever I want to.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Because they were true.

Jackie had no claim on her. Not really. Not officially. Jeff was her alibi. Her cover. Her shield.

But she wanted Nat. Wanted her in the kind of way that broke rules and rewrote stories.

“I only want you to do this with me,” she whispered. It wasn’t a demand. It was a confession.

Nat looked at her for a long moment.

Then she scoffed. “Princess Jackie doesn’t get her way. And, she pouts. Shocker.”

She moved toward the bathroom door.

Jackie blinked rapidly, trying not to cry.

“Going to find Lottie again?” she said, voice shaking.

Nat paused, hand on the knob.

“Why does it matter?”

Jackie didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The words were stuck in her throat.

But her silence was enough.

Nat nodded once. “I thought so.”

She unlocked the door and stepped back into the pulse of the party.

And Jackie—perfect Jackie, composed Jackie—stood alone in the bathroom.

She lowered herself onto the closed toilet lid. Buried her face in her hands.

****

Nat didn’t look back.

She didn’t want to see Jackie’s face, didn’t want to risk softening. Her whole body was vibrating—too many feelings packed into her chest like wires twisted tight: confusion, anger, longing, shame. It was easier to walk away, to close the door and leave Jackie in that too-perfect bathroom with her too-perfect lip gloss smudged and her eyes threatening to ruin the mascara she probably hadn’t even meant to cry in.

Nat should’ve known better. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. That Jackie couldn’t handle real.

The music downstairs had gotten louder since they’d gone upstairs. The bass thumped beneath her boots, muffled through hardwood and drywall, but as she descended the staircase, it became a living thing—something she could feel in her ribcage. People swayed and shouted over each other, red cups and half-smoked joints in every direction. She passed a girl trying to puke discreetly into a fake potted plant. The scent of pot smoke, weed, and sugary punch clung to everything. Her skin felt sticky with it.

She didn’t know what she was doing. All she knew was that she needed to get the hell out of Lottie’s house.

Lottie.

The thought of her sent a fresh spike of frustration through Nat’s chest. Jackie had no right. Jackie had Jeff—fucking Jeff, with his smug hands on her waist and that glossy, rehearsed smile she always put on for him. Jackie didn’t flinch when Jeff touched her like she flinched when Nat did. She didn’t look away or pull back. She smiled. Like she liked it.

And now she had the nerve to act like Nat had done something wrong?

Nat scanned the crowd, already tired of the noise, the haze, the heat. She spotted Kevyn, leaning against the far wall like he’d been plastered there on purpose. He looked like he always did at parties—out of place, hands stuffed in his pockets, taking it all in like it was some sort of science experiment.

His face lit up when he saw her, and he started making his way toward her through the crowd with the awkward grace of someone who was used to being overlooked.

“Hey,” he said when he got close. “Where were you? I thought you ditched me.”

Nat didn’t answer right away. The hallway lights cast everything in a warm, artificial glow. People passed behind her in a blur of laughter and perfume, but she couldn’t feel any of it. It was like she was behind glass.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked instead, voice flat.

Kevyn blinked. “You want to leave?”

“You can stay if you want,” Nat said. She crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt. “I’m leaving.”

Kevyn looked at her for a moment. Really looked. His brow furrowed, like he wanted to ask something but knew better.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

And of course he followed. He always followed.

They stepped out into the night, and the cold air slapped Nat in the face. She welcomed it. It cleared the smoke and the jealousy from her lungs, if only for a second. Lottie’s house loomed behind them like some weird dream—too big, too clean, too full of people pretending they weren’t broken in all the same places.

She stepped off the porch, down the stone pathway, and pulled a joint from the pocket of her jacket. Hands shaking slightly, she lit it with a cheap plastic lighter and took a long drag. The smoke filled her lungs, rough and bitter, and she held it there like it could pin down her thoughts.

Kevyn clicked the locks on his Corolla. Nat climbed into the passenger seat but didn’t speak. She rolled the window down, stuck her elbow out, and smoked in silence while Kevyn backed out of Lottie’s long, winding driveway.

The first few minutes of the drive were quiet.

Too quiet.

The music on the radio was low—some acoustic thing with too much reverb—and Nat snapped her fingers against her thigh. Restless. Burning.

“You okay?”

Nat stared out the windshield. Her breath fogged the glass slightly. “No,” she said. “Not really.”

Kevyn nodded like he expected that. He didn’t press.

After a few blocks, Kevyn spoke again. “Jackie?”

Nat exhaled through her nose. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Nat shifted in her seat. “She got weird about Lottie. Accused me of… I don’t know. Something.”

Kevyn raised an eyebrow. “Were you doing something?”

Nat shot him a look. “No. I wasn’t.”

He held up a hand. “Okay, okay.”

“I mean,” Nat muttered, “if I was , would she even get to be mad? She has a boyfriend.”

Kevyn didn’t answer right away. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You still like her though,” he said finally. “Even if she’s with Jeff.”

Nat laughed, humorless. “Yeah. I do. Like an idiot.”

They drove a little farther. The streetlights blurred past like smudges.

Kevyn said, “She’s kind of terrible for you.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not gonna stop, are you?”

Nat rested her forehead against the window, letting the cold seep into her skin.

“No,” she said. “Probably not.”

Kevyn kept his eyes on the road. “Figured.”

“I don’t get her,” Nat said, voice hoarse. “She has Jeff. She gets to have everything. And then she—she accuses me of being into Lottie.”

Kevyn raised his eyebrows but stayed quiet.

“She saw me standing next to Lottie and lost her shit,” Nat continued, too loud now. “Like I’m the one sneaking around. Like I’m the one with secrets.”

“She’s jealous,” Kevyn said.

Nat let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? Then she should do something about it.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’m sorry,” Kevyn said, gently. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Nat ashed the joint out the window, grinding the end with her thumb until it stopped glowing.

She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t need to. Kevyn knew her well enough by now.

“I hate feeling like this,” she muttered. “Like I’m disposable. Like I’m some side dish she sneaks upstairs with while the boyfriend’s downstairs playing beer pong.”

Kevyn tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re not disposable.”

“Feels like it,” Nat said.

She leaned her head against the window. The glass was cold against her temple.

And in the dark reflection, she could almost see Jackie’s face.

****

Jackie didn’t see Nat again for the rest of the night.

At first, she thought maybe Nat had just drifted off into another room, maybe gone out for a smoke, or found Kevyn, or even just needed space. But the longer the party dragged on, the more that sick little knot tightened in Jackie’s stomach. It wasn’t just absence. It was avoidance. And the possibility that Nat had left—that she’d left without saying anything—landed like a bruise blooming behind Jackie’s ribs.

Jackie tried not to show it. She stayed on autopilot, letting the chaos of the party blur around her. She laughed when she was supposed to and smiled when someone made a joke. But her laughs came a beat too late. Her smile never quite reached her eyes.

She spent most of her time with Shauna, trailing her through the crush of people, following her out to the back patio and back inside again. Shauna didn’t ask why Jackie suddenly wanted to hang out with her after spending the whole night with Jeff. She didn’t comment on Jackie’s quietness or the way she kept checking the door like someone was going to walk back through it. But Jackie noticed the way Shauna watched her.

At least Jeff stayed away.

That part surprised her—he usually didn’t let her out of his sight at parties. But when Jackie was with Shauna, he backed off. Maybe he didn’t want to risk a public argument. Maybe he knew better than to try to wedge himself between them when Shauna was in one of her moods. Maybe—Jackie thought, suddenly—he’d given up for the night.

Honestly, Jackie didn’t care why.

She didn’t want him touching her. Not after the bathroom. Not after Nat. Her skin still tingled from Nat’s hands, her mouth. She could still feel the press of her against the bathroom sink, the way their bodies had fit so easily, the warmth of Nat’s breath on her neck. The cigarette taste of her kisses. The way her voice dropped when she said Jackie’s name.

And then the fight. The silence. The sound of the door unlatching.

The aching emptiness that came after.

By the time Jeff found her again, she was already worn thin. The buzz of alcohol had curdled in her stomach, soured by everything she couldn’t say out loud. She felt lightheaded, clammy, like she might throw up if she spoke too fast.

Jeff didn’t notice.

He drove her home in his Wagoneer, one hand on the wheel, the other on her thigh like always, like nothing had changed.

Jackie resisted the urge to flinch. She didn’t move his hand, didn’t push him away. Instead, she gently placed her hand over his—soft, polite. Contained. She didn’t squeeze. Didn’t look at him. Just tried to breathe through the nausea rising in her throat.

He looked over at her with that same dopey grin, like this was any other Friday night. “That was fun,” he said.

Jackie gave him a half smile. “Yeah,” she murmured. Her voice sounded foreign in her ears.

He squeezed her thigh and turned his eyes back to the road. The scent of his cologne filled the car—strong, synthetic, too sweet. It clung to the upholstery, to her clothes, and Jackie suddenly couldn’t remember if he’d always smelled like this. Had it always been this overpowering? Had she just stopped noticing?

She rolled down the window, letting the night air rush in. It was cool and crisp, laced with the damp scent of late autumn leaves and gasoline. She leaned her face into the breeze, closed her eyes, and tried to imagine someone else’s hand on her leg. Someone else’s scent in her nose. Leather, cloves, and a hint of something warm.

Not Jeff.

Not this.

“Jackie,” Jeff said, hesitant. “Are you mad at me or something?”

She opened her eyes. The house came into view, dark and still. The porch light was off. No flicker from the kitchen window. Good. That meant her mom was already out cold on Xanax. Jackie didn’t have the energy to pretend tonight.

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

Jeff didn’t seem convinced. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Did Shauna say something to you? About me?”

Jackie blinked. “What? No. Why would she?”

“You spent the whole party with her,” he said, his voice low and tense. “You barely even looked at me.”

She stared at him, unblinking. “You weren’t exactly around.”

He scoffed, but didn’t argue.

Jackie looked back at the house. Picture perfect on the outside. Colonial style, crisp white shutters, manicured bushes—even now, under the moonlight, it looked like something from a catalog. But inside, it was cold. Empty. A house that echoed when you cried.

She wished she were going to Shauna’s instead. Even if her best friend was moody and passive-aggressive and impossible to figure out sometimes, at least Shauna would sit next to her in bed and let her talk about nothing until she fell asleep. At least Shauna wouldn’t make her pretend.

But Shauna was moody tonight. Jackie hadn’t had the energy to solve anyone else’s puzzle.

“You’re not mad?” Jeff pressed, voice still petulant.

Jackie leaned over and kissed his cheek—quick, automatic. She didn’t even know if her lips touched skin or air.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she said.

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Before he could lean in for more, Jackie was already opening the door, grabbing her purse, stepping into the cold.

Jeff drove off before she even reached the front step.

She didn’t look back.

****

Nat gripped the rusted chains of the swing, her fingers cold but steady. The rubber seat creaked beneath her, stiff with age, its edges cracked and whitening with wear. She swayed idly, the toe of her combat boot dragging a slow trench into the dirt below, back and forth, back and forth. The playground was mostly empty now—just the skeletons of what it once was. A faded jungle gym with peeling paint. A seesaw missing one of its handles. The single floodlight by the basketball court blinked intermittently, casting long shadows across the worn mulch and warped slide.

She liked it better like this.

Kevyn sat beside her on the neighboring swing, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. They hadn’t said anything in a while, and that was fine by Nat. She appreciated the silence. This place had been her escape as a kid. She used to beg her mom to bring her here, and on the rare sober day, sometimes she did. Nat would shout higher, higher, legs pumping like she could launch herself out of her life and straight into the clouds. For a long time, she believed that if she just tried hard enough, she’d get there.

Somewhere along the way, Nat stopped trying.

She blinked hard against the sting in her eyes, then finally broke the silence. “She said she only wants me to do this with her.”

Her voice sounded wrong—rougher than usual, thick with something sticky and unresolved. The weight of Jackie’s words still clung to her skin like sweat.

Kevyn shifted beside her. “Do you... only want to do whatever it is you’re doing with her?”

Nat let the question hang between them. A slow breath out. Her boot dug deeper into the dirt. She wanted to laugh, to say something sarcastic—like What even are we doing, Kev? Making out in bathrooms and ruining each other’s nights? But the truth pressed too close to her chest.

Yes. She did. She wanted it more than she wanted to admit.

Instead, she shrugged. Noncommittal. Dismissive. As if it wasn’t gnawing a hole in her ribs. Kevyn didn’t push. He never did.

Silence returned, broken only by the low hum of cicadas and the occasional clink of the chain as the swings shifted in the breeze. The air carried a faint chill, that early fall bite that hinted at the season’s turning. Nat breathed it in like medicine.

Eventually, Kevyn stood, one hand curling around the swing’s cold metal. “It’s getting late. I should probably go home before my mom flips out.”

Nat didn’t move. She glanced up at him, squinting against the soft halo of light. Kevyn looked untouched by the kind of damage that followed Nat like smoke. He came from a house with two parents and clean carpets and summer vacations. He had a dog that wasn’t afraid of yelling. He had a future.

He was her best friend. The only person she trusted enough to be quiet with. He never made her feel like she had to perform. And yet…

“I’m gonna stay for a little bit.”

Her voice was even, not defiant, but resolute. She didn’t have to explain it. There was no one waiting up for her. No one to care if she wandered home at two in the morning smelling like cigarettes and heartbreak.

Kevyn nodded slowly, the muscles in his jaw twitching like he wanted to say something else. “You sure I can’t take you home?”

“I’m fine, Kevyn.” She softened it with a small smile. “Really. It’s okay.”

He lingered for a beat. Then another. “Okay,” he murmured. The word was barely more than a breath.

He took a step back. “Do you wanna hang out tomorrow? I could drive us to Monmouth Mall. Just hang out. Look around.”

“Maybe,” Nat replied, but even she could hear how hollow it sounded.

Kevyn nodded again, disappointment flickering behind his eyes. “If you change your mind, call me. I’ll be home. Just hanging out.”

He stared at her for a second too long, like he was hoping she’d ask him to stay.

She didn’t.

Kevyn turned and started walking. His footsteps faded down the cracked pavement.

Nat exhaled, shoulders sinking. She knew the way Kevyn looked at her sometimes. Not like the other guys at school, who stared like they were owed something. Kevyn looked at her like he was holding out a gift— Here, take this. It’s safe. It’s real. Like he was waiting for her to choose him. But she couldn’t. Not because she didn’t see it. She saw it every time.

She just didn’t feel it.

Life would be easier if she could love Kevyn.

But instead, she sat alone on a swing in a dying playground, Jackie’s voice echoing in her ears. I only want you to do this with me. What the hell did that even mean? Was it true? Or was it just something Jackie said to keep Nat close?

She bit the inside of her cheek. Jackie with her perfect hair and perfect boyfriend. With Jeff and Shauna and whatever lies made up her world. Nat hated that she cared. Hated that she wanted to believe Jackie meant it.

That it hadn’t been just the liquor or the dark or the electricity between them.

Nat lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. The first drag made her stomach turn, but she welcomed the burn. Anything to drown out the mess in her head.

Headlights flared suddenly, cutting through the dark. Nat blinked, momentarily blinded. Kevyn’s car hadn’t left after all.

She stood, her body moving before her mind caught up.

He was still there. Waiting.

She lifted a hand in a half-wave and stepped toward the car. She hesitated just a moment at the door. “Can you take me somewhere?” she asked. “Not home.”

Kevyn didn’t even blink. “Sure. Where to?”

He started the car, pulling gently away from the curb.

Nat sank into the passenger seat, the swing set fading into the night behind them. She didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to. Wherever she was going, it wasn’t going to make anything easier. But it might quiet something. Even for a little while.

She watched the streetlights blur past and thought, I want her. Just her. Is that so fucking stupid?

And she already knew the answer.

****

Jackie did her nighttime routine on autopilot.

The moment she stepped through the threshold of her front door, Jeff's Jeep was long gone, along with the suffocating cloud of body spray. She could breathe again. His hands were no longer on her, grabbing, roaming, pressing her against the scratch of his stubble like she was something owed.

Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung.

She wasn't going to cry. Not over this. Not over Nat walking away.

But had Nat ended it? Jackie didn't know. And worse, she was terrified by how much that uncertainty hurt. Why did the thought of losing Nat feel so unbearable?

She'd never felt that way about Jeff. Not once in all their breakups—there were plenty—had she been afraid of losing him. Sometimes she even hoped they were done for good. But Jeff always circled back. Apologies. Promises. The same old pattern. And Jackie always let him.

Because Jeff made sense, because he was safe, and he looked good next to her in photos, and said all the right things to her parents. He was the perfect accessory to the life she was supposed to want.

And she felt nothing.

Jackie walked through the dark house to the kitchen, the hardwood cold under her feet. She poured a glass of water from the fridge, drank it all in one go, and let the chill of it settle in her chest.

Upstairs, in the bathroom attached to her bedroom, she peeled off her clothes with robotic precision. She stepped into the shower and turned the water hotter than usual, scalding. Like she could burn Jeff off her skin. She scrubbed harder than she needed to, dragging the loofah down her arms and chest until her skin turned pink. That's when she started crying. Not sobbing—just silent tears mixing with the water, her face buried in her hands beneath the spray.

Afterward, she stood in front of the sink, towel wrapped around her body, her reflection hazy in the mirror. She hesitated. Her mouth still tasted like Nat. She knew it was gross, but the thought of brushing her teeth felt like erasing something she didn't want to let go of. Still, she made herself do it.

The rest of her routine moved like muscle memory: cleanser, moisturizer, towel-drying her hair, slipping into the oversized color-block t-shirt she always slept in, the fabric soft and worn, barely brushing the tops of her thighs. Just panties underneath. She sat down at her vanity and dragged a comb through her damp hair.

And then she just… looked at herself. Really looked.

She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her.

Her eyes were red. Her mouth was tight. She looked like someone who didn't know what she wanted—or maybe she did, and that was worse.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, eyes still locked on her reflection, "you'll call Jeff to come over. And… you'll do that." The words caught in her throat. She hated how she'd become used to saying them. "To keep him happy. So he'll stop pressuring for more."

The thought of her head in his lap made her chest seize with shame. She wasn't even sure if it was fear, or revulsion, or just exhaustion.

But it wasn't what she wanted.

What she wanted was the way Nat touched her. The way Nat saw her—not as a prize, not as something to brag about, but as someone. Jackie felt real around Nat. Less like a perfect image and more like a person. Their closeness hadn't started as anything more than curiosity. But somewhere in the quiet of shared cigarettes and stolen glances, something deeper had taken root. 

Nat never tried to make Jackie into anything she wasn't. She never asked for more than Jackie could give. And yet, Jackie had found herself giving everything anyway.

She crawled into bed, her body heavy with ache and indecision. The bedside lamp was dimmed to its lowest setting, casting the room in a warm amber glow and deep shadows. She turned onto her side and stared at the sliver of sky through the parted curtains, the window cracked open just enough to let in the cool night air.

Her words echoed in her head.

I only want you to do this with me.

Jackie blinked against fresh tears. She meant it. She meant it so deeply that it scared her.

Because she only wanted Nat to do this with her. And she only wanted to do this with Nat.

But that couldn't be right, could it? She wasn't that kind of girl. She had a boyfriend. Jeff was handsome. Jeff was popular. Her parents liked him. He was everything she was supposed to want. Everything she was supposed to be.

So why did it feel like a cage?

Why did it feel like choosing Jeff meant giving up pieces of herself, one by one, until there was nothing left?

A soft, unexpected sound broke through the stillness—a clink against the glass of her bedroom window.

Then another.

Jackie sat up, heart tripping over itself in her chest, the weight of everything she'd been trying not to feel pressing down on her ribs.

She got out of bed.

And crossed the room.

****

Kevyn had been hesitant to drop Nat off at Jackie Taylor’s.

He didn’t say it—not directly. He never did. His voice was careful, always walking the line between concern and silence.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

But Nat had already stepped out of the car. The door shut behind her before he finished the question.

Now the Corolla’s taillights had disappeared down the block, and she stood in the cold hush of Jackie’s street, a thin mist of dew forming on the grass, her breath visible in the night air. The windows of the Taylors’ house glowed faintly from the inside—warm and golden and quiet. Too quiet.

Her heart thudded hard and low in her chest. She hated the way it did that around Jackie—like it couldn’t tell the difference between dread and hope.

She felt like Lloyd Dobler. That made Jackie Taylor Diane Court.

Instead of a boombox and Peter Gabriel, Nat had a handful of damp pebbles and a sinking feeling in her gut. She tossed one gently at Jackie’s window. It made the softest tap against the glass. She waited.

Threw another.

Waited.

Her jacket sleeves smelled like smoke. Her fingers were cold. She rubbed them together, silently cursing herself for showing up. She didn’t know what she wanted from this—only that she needed to know.

Did Jackie mean it? I only want you to do this with me.

Was it about Lottie Mathews?

Or was it about Nat?

Before she could convince herself to walk away, light flickered behind the windowpane. The curtains parted. Jackie leaned out, damp hair mussed and unbrushed, eyes wide with something between shock and relief.

“Nat?” she whispered.

Nat’s stomach flipped—hard. That flutter again, that thing she hated.

“Can I come up, Jack?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Jackie nodded quickly. “Yeah. Please. Just be careful.”

The trellis creaked beneath her weight. Ivy clawed at her sleeves. Her boots found purchase against the slats of white-painted wood. The night air bit at her cheeks as she climbed, each step a reminder that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing.

Jackie caught her wrist as she reached the window. Their hands touched—just for a second—and Jackie didn’t let go right away.

Then she stepped back. Nat climbed through. The room welcomed her with warmth and the faint scent of shampoo, reminiscent of coconut and vanilla. Outside, the wind stirred the branches. Inside, silence stretched thin.

Jackie stood in the middle of her room, barefoot on the rug. Her oversized sleep shirt hit mid-thigh, the hem twisting slightly as she shifted her weight. Her legs were bare. Her eyes were red and puffy. She looked beautiful in the way heartbreak sometimes is—real and raw and too much all at once.

I’m sorry you’re upset , Nat thought. But I’m hurting too.

Jackie’s voice broke through the silence, soft and hesitant. “Hey.”

Nat leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed tight over her chest to keep from reaching for her. She smirked instead. Dimples. False bravado.

“Nice sleep shirt.”

Jackie flushed. She looked down at herself, didn’t reply. Just walked over and locked the bedroom door with a soft click. Her movements were slow and uncertain.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Nat shrugged. “Are you?”

Jackie gave a dry, hollow laugh. “I was… emotional tonight. Drank too much. I’m embarrassed.”

Nat nodded, jaw tight. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

The words tasted wrong as soon as they left her mouth. Like they should’ve meant something else. Like they were supposed to hurt less.

She didn’t know why it stung—only that it did. That Jackie sounded like she was already rewriting the night into something meaningless.

The ache rose up in Nat’s chest. She could feel it pulsing behind her ribs.

“I’m sorry for just… you know. Showing up like this.” She stood up straighter, turned toward the window, and started to climb back out.

“You don’t have to.” Jackie’s voice was barely a breath. “Unless you want to.”

Nat froze.

That voice. That uncertainty. It wasn’t the Jackie that everyone else got. Not the perfect girlfriend, the polished version with the curated smile and the yearbook captions. This Jackie was smaller. Softer. The one Nat saw only in stolen moments. In the dark. In silence.

Jackie looked down at the floor. “I want you to stay.”

Nat swallowed. “Why?”

A pause.

Long enough for Nat’s pulse to rise. Long enough to twist the air between them into something fragile.

Jackie didn’t answer.

So Nat pushed. Too sharp, too fast. “You mad about me and Lottie?”

Jackie blinked. “Are you into her?”

“Does it matter?” Nat asked, already bitter. “You have Jeff.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You didn’t answer me either.”

Jackie sank onto the edge of her bed, her legs folding beneath her. The sleep shirt tugged higher on her thighs. Her voice cracked. “In the kitchen… You two were really close.”

“She’s my friend.”

“She put her arm around you.”

“So?”

Jackie looked up then, her eyes glistening. “So it felt like I was being replaced.”

The words knocked the breath from Nat’s chest.

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to Jackie admitting things like that. Saying she wanted. Saying she was afraid.

Nat’s voice was hoarse. “Is that why you said it? At the party. I only want you to do this with me. Was that about Lottie?”

Jackie’s lips parted. She didn’t speak. Her silence was a yes and a no all at once.

“I came up here because I needed to know if you meant it,” Nat whispered. “That’s all I want to know.”

Jackie looked at her. Really looked at her.

“I meant it,” she said.

The air shifted between them. Warmed.

Nat moved to sit beside her. The mattress dipped under her weight. Their knees touched. Silence stretched again, thick and trembling.

“Were you coming here to end it?” Jackie asked quietly, not looking at her.

Nat shook her head.

Jackie’s voice cracked again. “I didn’t want it to end at all.”

That silence again—but this time, it felt like breath held between them.

“I’m not good at this,” Nat admitted.

“Me neither.”

Jackie turned toward her. Nat was already watching her.

She didn’t kiss her.

But she reached out, brushed a strand of damp hair from Jackie’s cheek, and let her fingers linger there.

“I don’t want Lottie,” Nat said. Her voice trembled. “I’m here because I wanted to see you.”

Jackie nodded, slowly. Her eyes brimmed with tears again.

“Okay,” she said. And in that moment, okay was enough.