Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lottie Matthews is a high-society girl. Everyone knows her, knows who she is because of the weight carried by the Matthews name. And yet, Lottie is different. Unlike most wealthy teenagers, she doesn’t seem to care about popularity or the extravagant parties that would place her at the top of the school’s social hierarchy — though she’s already there, regardless.

Everyone respects her. Everyone wants her around. But no one truly knows her. Lottie is reserved, mysterious, and definitely hiding a secret. People talk about her constantly — whether it’s praise or gossip — the usual teenage speculation fueled by a fascination with other people’s lives. But one thing is certain: everyone wants to be Lottie Matthews, yet no one really has her. And everything they think they know about her is built on what they cannot see.

Across town, at the lowest end of the social pyramid, there’s Natalie Scatorccio.

Natalie had to take control of her own life from an early age. With an alcoholic father who took his own life and a narcissistic mother who kicked her out when she was just fifteen, she had no choice but to find a way to survive. Scatorccio had to rebuild herself — with no one to truly help her. She spent nights crashing on the couch at her teammate and friend Van’s house, and some weekends sleeping over at her best friend Kevin’s place, whenever his parents weren’t around.

But Nat doesn’t break easily — or at least that’s how it looks. She built a strong, unshakable persona. On the outside, nothing seemed to touch her, and people used that as an excuse to try and chip away at her walls. Still, she appeared impenetrable.

After a year of bouncing from house to house, she finally found a place to call her own. It was rented, tiny, but for someone who’d never had anything, it felt like heaven. Over time — selling drinks and offering weed to stoned high school kids — Natalie managed to open a small record store. Most of the stock was secondhand. She also sold tapes and mix CDs — her refuge and means of survival, even if she hadn’t fully abandoned the occasional petty scam sold to boys as addicted as she was. It was a decent hustle.

The record store was tiny — about the size of a 20-square-meter studio apartment living room. Just a few shelves and a small counter where the register sat. There weren’t many sections: the focus was clear. The space catered to lovers of post-punk, rock, and the raw, visceral bands of the ’90s. The walls were covered in old records and CDs, stuck up like wallpaper. There were also posters from a variety of bands: Deftones, The Smiths, Sex Pistols, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Who. And almost hidden in the back, a classic Beatles poster — the Abbey Road cover. It stood apart from the others, giving the impression that either Nat had saved a special spot for it, or had just thrown it up out of obligation, like saying, “It’s a classic, gotta have it.” The poster was crumpled, a little neglected. Natalie definitely didn’t have the aura of a Beatles fangirl. So it just sat there. Present. Too much of a classic to be left out.

Behind the counter, there was a door marked “Restricted Access” and a crude little sign with a hand flipping the bird — classic Nat bullshit. That’s where she actually lived — in the back.

The room was even smaller than the store itself. A perfect rectangle. The exposed brick walls — geometrically uniform, almost like they’d been handpicked — gave the space an aesthetic that was entirely her. The floor was dark wood, and the ceiling was the color of raw concrete, like there hadn’t been enough money to paint or finish it. And maybe there hadn’t been.

In the corner, a double bed pushed up against the side wall. Gray sheets, a bit worn, but absurdly clean. There were tons of pillows, almost like a soft barricade around her body. Band posters lined the wall — nothing symmetrical, like they’d been hung in a rush or by pure instinct.

Next to the bed, in the narrow strip of space that remained, stood a wooden desk with three drawers. Above it, a shelf held movie tapes, a few books, and framed bits of Nat’s personal memories. Pressed up next to the desk was a makeshift clothes rack doubling as a closet: leather jackets, plaid shirts, dark tees, and band hoodies. Beneath it, two old drawers held more clothes, and on top of those, a few pairs of worn-out shoes and boots.

About seven steps from the bed, just past the front door, began the tiny kitchen. It fit one person at a time — two, but only with choreography. The cabinets were old but looked new: either painted black or covered with wood-patterned adhesive. The stove was induction, four burners; beside it, a tiny sink. And squeezed between the sink and the bathroom door was a trash bin Natalie absolutely hated, because she kept bumping into it every time she tried to move around in the kitchen.

Nat’s routine was especially packed, split between school duties, her little record store, soccer practice, and underground parties where she scored free drinks and sold weed to teens who never seemed quite high enough.

Lottie Matthews’ life seemed considerably easier. She floated between school, indulging in her hobbies, and spending money on ridiculously expensive gifts for herself. At least, that’s what most people thought. Deep down, Lottie was just another girl — overwhelmed by responsibilities and suffocated by her parents’ crushing expectations. Lonely, and perhaps a little too introspective.

Her routine ranged from standard school classes to the occasional “Matthews obligations”: etiquette lessons, gala dinners, piano practice, property management, fluency in multiple languages.

Not that she complained — it would’ve felt absurd to complain about so much privilege. But the truth was, all of it came with a relentless demand for perfection, a kind of perfection that might not even be humanly possible.

Lottie’s mornings were always the same. She woke up at the usual time — if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have enough time to get ready the way she was supposed to. It wasn’t that she cared obsessively about how she looked, but something inside her insisted on appearing flawless — she needed to appear.

So she would slip out of her king-size bed early enough to pick out something decent to wear, to take her time with face products, and to carefully style her bangs just right — to hide the scar on her forehead, left by a mischievous childhood fall while trying to climb up a slide with Laura Lee, her childhood friend, and arguably the only person who ever truly knew her. Or at least, more than anyone else.

Still, there was a wall between her true self — or parts of it — and Laura Lee. Especially after the girl had turned religious.

Not that Lottie didn’t believe in something — she did. But she also believed that if she ever allowed herself to believe too much, she’d go insane. She might lose her mind to faith.

Lottie knew her own tendency toward intensity — that’s why she kept it in check when it came to anything extreme. She believed that, under intense enough circumstances, if she let herself go too deep into faith, she might be capable of leading — or at least intuitively guiding — a cult. There was something quietly magnetic about her, as if her inner depth carried a subtle influence over others.

So, instead, she immersed herself in her more private passions — purely individual interests. There was something both acidic and sublime about reading, about writing; it stirred something in her, moved her from the inside. Lottie thought about studying Literature, though she was also drawn to Anthropology. She had a genuine fascination with the human experience — who we are, where we live, how cultures form — all of it intrigued her.

It wasn’t exactly what her parents had planned. But she knew what they expected: for her to be the face of the Matthews name. She was the only one, the first, the legitimate heir — meant to inherit and lead the family legacy. Lawyers, landowners… something in the corporate world she could barely bother to understand. She didn’t want to run hotels, banks, or luxury condos. More than anything, she just wanted to choose for herself what she would become.

“Good morning, Miss Matthews. Your parents left early today and asked me to let you know they won’t be back until tonight,” announced the housekeeper with her usual formality, despite Lottie having asked countless times to be treated like a normal person.

She smiled and exhaled in relief. She had no idea what had pulled her parents away on a Saturday morning, but she was grateful for it.

“Thanks, Lucy. And please, just call me Lottie,” she replied sweetly, before sitting down at the enormous table in front of her, trying to decide what to eat among the overwhelming number of options. It was almost excessive — like breakfast had been prepared for ten people.

As usual, Lottie took her medication first. Then, she began eating slowly, relaxed enough to forget to take her elbows off the table.

Across town, Nat had woken up ridiculously late. It was already past ten, and even though it was Saturday, she couldn’t afford to stay in bed. It was the busiest day downtown: weird guys took their girlfriends out for strolls, old men went grocery shopping, older ladies walked the sidewalks, adults crowded the neighborhood to enjoy their day off, and teenagers wandered around looking for booze, drugs, or any crap that satisfied their personal tastes and rebellious streaks. And Natalie… Natalie had all of that available in her shop.

She got up as fast as she could, took a rushed shower, and threw on her usual clothes: a gray shirt under a leather jacket twice her size, lightweight plaid pants in shades of brown, and her always-beat-up boots. Her blonde hair was already begging for a touch-up — the dark roots were starting to show — but still, something about it worked. It was laid-back, creative, and somehow gave off both a soft and tough vibe.

She lined her waterline with black pencil and took a swig of the leftover vodka in the fridge, followed by a piece of chocolate cake that had been sitting forgotten for two days in the back. Breakfast à la Scatorccio.

Her first customer as soon as she opened the shop was a painfully annoying kid. Talked too much, asked nonstop questions, and seemed more interested in chatting than actually buying anything. After long minutes torn between Talking Heads and Pixies, he finally picked a random album and left, allowing Nat to breathe for a few minutes.

She needed a smoke. As usual, she lit a cigarette at the shop’s entrance, watching the street — the hurried people, the occasional dog, and every now and then, the sky. It was overcast — which Nat hated. Clouds meant people would turn away before even reaching her shop. And with business slowing down, the week was already promising to be a disaster. And fuck… she had a lot of bills to pay.

For Lottie, Saturdays came with a sense of freedom. She liked going to the park to watch kids run around and fall — always needing to hold back a laugh. It seemed cruel, but they were mischievous little things. She also enjoyed watching people walk their dogs and made a point to stop by the popcorn carts, buy a bag, and rate which vendor had the best popcorn in the park. Simple things. In those moments, she actually felt like a normal girl.

Sometimes, she’d run into her closer teammates, like Taissa or Jackie Taylor — who always seemed to carry Shauna around like a guard dog, but one ridiculously tamed whenever she was beside Taylor. They’d chat about basic things: the team, the next game, or the parties they went to. Nothing too deep. No real intimate connection. They were friends — and that was it.

In some ways, they were the closest ones when it came to the team. With Mari, Akilah, Nat, and even Van — who was dating Tay — Lottie only talked during games. Nothing truly personal. They danced, drank, and had fun in the locker rooms and during practice — but only as a team, not really as people. She barely knew what each of them did outside of the field, or what they liked. They just shared team moments.

After the park, she decided to walk downtown to a bookstore. It was a special place for Lottie. There was something about the smell of old books or the elderly woman who still insisted on keeping the store alive that brought her comfort. And for her, it wasn’t exactly about owning books — but about finding special editions. Not “special” as in new releases, but because of the way they looked, their texture, their scent. There was a particular magic to old books that seemed to carry a story beyond the one printed inside.

It was just Lottie, living in her own world, loving her own peculiarities, unaware of whatever else was happening outside — especially the weather, which now seemed to be turning against a rich girl who just wanted to get to her favorite bookstore.

The weather had truly turned against any unsuspecting passerby. Within minutes, cars were spraying water onto the sidewalks, the raindrops grew heavier on the rooftops, and people began running, desperately seeking shelter. Lottie was one of them. She ran against the rain as if quick steps could somehow keep the drops from soaking her designer cardigan or ruining her hair.

She entered the first store she found — though by then, her hair was already wet, and her cardigan was completely drenched. At least her skirt remained intact. Her boots, on the other hand, were wet, muddy, and she could feel the cold discomfort spreading through her feet.

“No fucking way.”

The unmistakable, raspy voice cut through the ambient noise of the store. Lottie, quickly scanning the room with her eyes, spotted Natalie on the other side, holding a box of records that looked absurdly heavy — or maybe it was just the awkward, uninterested way she was holding it.

“Sorry… I—I didn’t know.”

Lottie tried to explain herself, but her eyes soon dropped to her own feet, observing the pathetic state of her boots. She grimaced when she saw the puddle forming on the floor of the store — or rather, on Natalie’s floor.

“I thought girls like you had some butler holding an umbrella over their heads. Wherever you went, Matthews.”

It took a few seconds for Lottie to catch the tone of her words. Her wet brain seemed to need a little extra time to process. Natalie, on the other hand, was light, sarcastic, but not cruel — as if Lottie’s presence in her shop wasn’t exactly a surprise, but still worth some teasing. It wasn’t like they were friends. But they weren’t complete strangers either.

Lottie took a moment, but understood. She rolled her eyes with a shy smile at the corner of her mouth.

“I was planning to go to the bookstore on the corner, but… well, I got caught by the weather.”

She ran a hand over her soaked clothes and tried to push the bangs stuck to her forehead aside. Natalie, not paying much attention, began unloading the box of records and placing them on the shelves with an almost irritating calm.

“Just… try not to flood my store.”

It was funny. To Natalie, it was funny — not in a mocking tone, but somewhere between absurd and unexpected. Because Lottie Matthews was, in theory, unreachable. Immune to such inconveniences. Still, there she was, wet, clumsy… human. And for some reason, the rain had managed to catch up with her.

Silence returned to fill the space between them. To Natalie, it felt comfortable. To Lottie, it was almost agonizing. She felt like she needed to say something, break the silence, but every attempt died before it could even become a word. She opened her mouth and closed it several times, failing to find anything that made sense in that moment.

Instead, she observed. Observed Natalie working as if nothing could disturb her mood. As if the storm outside was just part of the background noise, not an inconvenience. There was something curious in that image. Something Lottie had never noticed — or, if she had, she’d ignored it — in all the months spent on the same team.

There, Natalie seemed like someone kind. The type of person who would let her stay there until the rain passed without making a big deal out of it. Something in the way Nat was oblivious to her presence — as she always had been — sparked a strange flicker in Lottie. As if Nat wasn’t expecting anything from her. And maybe that was exactly why there was something genuine about it.

“So… could you help me not flood your floor by helping me with these clothes?”

She finally spoke, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to match the same effortless naturalness that Natalie exuded. Her teammate seemed to catch the subtlety, noticing that the rich girl was beginning to shiver.

Without saying much, Nat stood up and gestured for Lottie to follow her to the back of the store. It was her room — improvised, but functional. No ceremony.

Lottie followed, confused by the absence of awkwardness. They weren’t exactly friends. They didn’t even talk much on the team. So… why wasn’t Nat treating her like a stranger?

Maybe Nat wasn’t as closed off as people said. Or maybe… she just didn’t want her to catch pneumonia.

“Here, I think this will help.”

The blonde handed her a towel to dry her hair. Then she slid over to her makeshift closet, searching for the warmest — and least worn — hoodie she could find. Finally, she handed her a gray crewneck sweatshirt.

“The bathroom’s that door after the kitchen.”

The instructions came quick and direct. Lottie simply nodded, still processing. How, exactly, had she ended up in her teammate’s record store?

First of all… Nat has a fucking record store? Why does that seem so cool and relevant right now?

Lottie tried to clear her head. She didn’t know much about Natalie’s life, she didn’t really know her, but she wasn’t oblivious to the gossip about the girl’s situation. Still, she wasn’t the type to care about such things.

In the bathroom, she dried her hair with the towel and changed her shirt and cardigan for Nat’s hoodie. It smelled mostly like smoke — as they said — but also had a sweet essence, a different perfume, something she’d never noticed before. People always said Nat smelled like smoke and booze.

“Your store’s cool.”

Lottie said when she returned to the room. She sat on the bed while Nat was in the kitchen, fiddling with the few cups she had — two, to be exact. Lottie had no idea what she was making, but Natalie seemed focused.

She smiled with the comment, absorbing it without needing to respond. When she was done, she handed Lottie a cup of hot chocolate.

“Here. Try not to get hypothermia.”

It wasn’t exactly rude — it was direct, but natural. It sounded like something Natalie would say. She was tough by nature.

Lottie smiled, accepting, and took a sip in silence. The rain was still coming down hard, and she knew she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“So… rich girls don’t melt in the rain, huh?”

Natalie broke the silence with sarcasm.

Lottie laughed, trying to familiarize herself with the way she communicated. She took another sip and fiddled with the cup in her hands, warming her fingers.

“Hope you didn’t spike this hot chocolate.”

She replied with sarcasm — a bit more shy and reserved than Nat’s, but still effective.

Natalie let out a quick nasal laugh, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She shook her head.

“You’re full of shit… you little bitch.”

Lottie laughed, and once again, silence settled over them.

Later, they returned to the shop. The silence lingered, but it felt comfortable — almost cozy. The sound of rain on the roof contrasted with the ambient music Nat had put on.

Natalie went back to work, restocking records and organizing the store’s few sections. Lottie passed the time browsing — it wasn’t exactly her style, but she ended up finding Rumours by Fleetwood Mac and, without thinking much, bought it.

When the rain finally let up, Lottie got ready to leave. Still, she felt like she had to say thank you — for something, anything, maybe just for Nat being kind in a way she didn’t expect.

So, before touching the doorknob, she turned to Natalie, catching her attention:

“Wanna hang out Wednesday after practice?”

She said it too quickly, before she could think twice about what she was asking. But somehow, she knew: she needed to see her again. Not as a teammate. She wanted to really get to know her.

Natalie stared at her for a moment, like she was processing. Then, with a half-smile, replied:

“Alright. Fancy.”

Chapter Text

Something about the way Lottie Matthews showed up drenched in her store stuck in Natalie’s mind.

The blonde was sure of one thing — that girl wasn’t the type to walk around without a driver, let alone someone who’d be interested in browsing through the shelves of an old, failing bookstore downtown. And that intrigued her — because it made her realize that even though they shared the same school, the same team, and she’d heard her name echoing through the high school halls, Nat had no real idea who the hell Lottie Matthews was.

They had never actually talked. Nothing beyond silly pre-game dances with the team in the locker room, goal celebrations, team huddles, shared parties, and maybe the occasional joint or beer after a match.

Nothing about Lottie Matthews had ever moved Natalie — not until she walked into her record store out of nowhere on a rainy afternoon.

But it was a passing thought — something Natalie quickly forgot as she got swept back into her chaotic routine. Sometimes, the memory of the invitation resurfaced, but she was skeptical enough to assume Lottie hadn’t meant it. Nat didn’t take it seriously and shoved the whole thing to the back of her mind for the rest of the weekend.

Lottie, on the other hand, seemed to be processing that moment internally, wondering how she had never really noticed Nat all these years. And that thought stuck with her — orbiting in her head, trying to make sense of a vague feeling. She wasn’t exactly interested, but there was a curiosity about Nat’s natural vibe — something she couldn’t quite place, but wanted to understand.

Still, it was a fleeting feeling, one that soon drowned in her own world of distractions. Matthews returned to her routine, her mind consumed by her own life. The image of Nat faded — that small moment now tucked away, something that had felt meaningful at the time, but not strong enough to hold onto. Responsibilities had a way of washing things like that away.

But Lottie hadn’t forgotten the invitation — she had simply put it off until after practice, just like she promised.

By Monday, life went back to normal.

Nat was up early, heading to the bus stop with a small aluminum flask in hand. Inside, there was whiskey — just one shot, enough to keep her alive and warm that morning.

Kevin met her at the stop. They always went together. They’d share a joint while waiting, laughing at their own nonsense like life’s crap was the funniest thing in the world once it passed.

“I almost saw boobs for the first time yesterday.”

Kevin said with a grin, taking a drag from the joint Nat had passed him. That kind of banter was common between them — somewhere between intimacy and inside joke, a language only they understood. Nat smirked, exhaling smoke through her nose.

“You almost see boobs every week, Kevin. It’s getting old.”

She teased, shaking her head — a classic Nat gesture, part of her sarcastic charm.

“Not everyone’s as sexually active as you, Scatorccio. Besides, you don’t even know what almost seeing boobs is, since you’ve never actually seen any.”

He said, grinning as he passed the joint back. They were leaning against the side of an old building. The cold morning suited them — there was something punk about their vibe: striped long sleeves, black jeans and sneakers, the signature accessories, and of course, her worn leather jacket draped over her arms. Backpack slung over one shoulder, skin pale as hell. Something about Nat just clicked with the weather.

She shoved his shoulder playfully at the jab — not hard, but enough for him to feign dramatic pain, groaning on purpose.

“For your information, I’m not as much of a virgin as you.”

She said, taking another sip from the flask as Kevin rubbed his shoulder in mock agony. He laughed, grabbing the flask to take a swig himself.

“Oh, I know. Travis gave us the full, extremely graphic breakdown of your adventures.”

He teased, earning another shove.

Nat’s ex-boyfriend was a recurring topic between them. Kevin loved to poke fun at it, and Nat didn’t care enough about the breakup or her emotional scars to protest. In fact, she thought it was funny.

“Fuck that little shit.”

She rolled her eyes, joking. She and Travis were still friends.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Kevin chuckled.

The bus pulled up. Natalie stomped out the joint with the sole of her boot and tucked it into a little tin she kept in her backpack. Screw it — she wasn’t gonna waste good weed. Then she boarded the bus with Kevin.

Meanwhile, when Laura Lee climbed into the passenger seat of Lottie’s car, the girl greeted her with a soft smile. It was a routine — Lottie picked her up every morning, always had. Even though she hadn’t been driving long, this ritual was theirs. She got her license last year, the moment she turned sixteen. As a reward for nailing her parallel parking on the first try, she got a car. At first, she didn’t love driving — but now, a year later, it felt like freedom.

Sometimes, all she wanted was to crank the radio, roll the window down, and drive nowhere — pretending she was some rebel girl straight out of a cliché teen movie.

She liked that feeling in her chest, even if it didn’t last long.

“Is Jackie coming with us?”

Laura Lee asked casually, buckling her seatbelt as Lottie started the car again. Matthews took a moment before answering, eyes on the road, piecing the words together.

“She’s going with Shauna today. Probably tomorrow too. You know… Shauna’s basically her official driver now.”

She joked as she turned the corner. The school wasn’t too far—about a thirty-minute drive. The music played softly on the radio: Since Yesterday by Strawberry Switchblade. Lottie and Laura Lee gently bobbed their heads in sync, humming along—a ritual they repeated every day. Lottie chuckled.

“You know you lost two passengers. That might mean you’re a terrible driver.”

Matthews just nodded and turned the volume up as Hopelessly Devoted to You began.

Getting to school could be a pain—too many eyes, a few throwing dumb hand signs. Natalie would just flip them off and laugh at the reaction. It was her way of protecting herself. The rich crowd at school loved to mess with her and, especially, spread ridiculous rumors. Most came from annoying guys who wanted something, didn’t get it, and went around making up crap. But Nat didn’t care. She had her own way of dealing with it: ignoring it. Especially since some people can’t stand being ignored—like tantrum-throwing kids.

The day dragged on: boring classes, sneaking out to smoke a joint, a few solid sales, and some dumb convos with the usual crew—Kevin and Van. They were leaning against a tree behind the school, skipping a boring Spanish class.

“Fucking asshole. He ruined my sales,”

Nat complained, lighting the roach from earlier. Van just took a sip of cheap beer in response.

They were talking about Richie—a spoiled rich kid who thought he deserved more than everyone else and expected Nat to be his personal weed supplier. She might’ve even considered it—if she didn’t already have a line of junkies who’d ordered first. And Nat… Nat kept her word.

“Don’t worry. He’s just trying to get over the rejection Matthews gave him last week,”

Van said, dryly, as if commenting on the weather, smoke curling from her mouth.

Kevin laughed.

“Yeah, it was pathetic. She shut him down with zero remorse.”

It took a second for Natalie to process that, and even then, she didn’t get why it hit her the way it did. It sounded like ordinary gossip. But somehow… it stuck. She hadn’t known that Lottie Matthews—rich girl, defender on the team, seemingly perfect—had so easily turned down the kind of guy girls like her usually wanted. For a moment, it felt like the same Lottie Matthews who showed up soaked at the record store.

Nat laughed.

“No fucking way.”

She tried to sound sarcastic, but it came out like disbelief. She took a sip of vodka and glanced at Van, smirking.

“Matthews asked me out after practice.”

Now Van and Kevin looked at her like she’d grown another head.

“I didn’t know fucking Lottie Matthews was a lesbian.”

Kevin was the first idiot to speak, loud enough to be heard across the damn courtyard.

Nat picked up a rock and threw it at him.

“She was just being dumb for showing up drenched at the record store. I don’t think Matthews is a fucking lesbian, you moron.”

She kicked his foot. Kevin groaned dramatically. Van shrugged, as if she couldn’t care less about any of it.

And that was that. Lottie Matthews stopped existing in Natalie’s world after that.

Jeans, a flawless red cardigan, a white crossbody purse, and a fine gold chain—probably more expensive than a car. Lottie was immaculate, walking the hallways with Jackie, Shauna, and Laura Lee. They were looking for a table to sit at. Talking about random things—literature, Laura Lee’s faith. Trying to speak French, practicing for the upcoming oral test. They all sucked. Lottie was the best among them, but she still felt her pronunciation wasn’t perfect, that she needed more practice.

After lunch, they spent the afternoon at the movies, watching Matilda, a new release. They soaked it all in—stuffed themselves with popcorn and soda, and cried over how emotional and relatable the movie was for some of them. They kept talking about it for hours, sipping milkshakes and sharing thoughts about the experience.

“I really wanted to eat that chocolate cake,”

Jackie admitted, and everyone looked at her, laughing at how fast the mood shifted from serious to silly.

“I don’t even like chocolate that much, but I kind of wanted it too,”

Lottie said casually, taking another sip of her vanilla milkshake.

The girls stared at her like she’d committed a crime—especially Shauna.

“What do you mean you don’t like chocolate, you savage?”

Shipman asked, mock-offended, though the tone was light and playful.

Lottie shrugged.

“I didn’t say I don’t like it. I said I don’t like it that much. I just don’t eat it often. That’s all.”

She said it naturally, just defending her point.

Jackie patted Shauna’s shoulder and left her hand there.

“Let the weirdo live, Shipman.”

And so the days went by—ordinary in their small inconveniences and everyday rhythms. That brief interaction seemed like a blur in both their lives. There were no further mentions of one another. Their worlds, distinct and distant, rarely collided. Except for one thing—the team—that kept them loosely orbiting.

It was strange to think Nat and Lottie had always been around each other, yet had never really noticed one another until the other day. It felt like the universe playing one of its little tricks—the kind that makes you suddenly notice someone who’s always been there. Like that person, even without a bond, had finally started to exist—though they’d been there all along.

Wednesday went by like any other day. For Lottie: math, English, literature. In the afternoon, piano lessons, economics, and a brunch with a few of her father’s business partners. Nothing unusual—just another event where Lottie had to smile and pretend to be perfectly interested.

“Peter, this is Charlotte—the future heiress of the Matthews fortune.”

One of her father’s associates introduced her to his son. She smiled, pretending not to mind how she was presented. The boy kissed her hand. She kept the graceful smile on her face—the one she’d practiced long enough to master.

Later, after everyone left, she got ready for practice and slipped out before her father could assign her another event she’d have to attend as the Matthews heiress—though that’s exactly what she was.

Nat’s Wednesday was just as typical. Morning classes: Italian, chemistry, physics. A few swigs of booze to stay focused. A few solid sales—she definitely loved addicted teens.

Later, annoying customers: old nostalgic rockers, unbearable and loud, the kind who thought they were critics, trashing everything they didn’t like just to hype what they did. Always in packs, on those ridiculous bikes. Though, she had to admit—the jackets were cool as hell.

Later, practice.

And definitely no thoughts about going out with Lottie Matthews.

Nat and Van were the first to arrive on the field. Coach Scott and Misty were setting up equipment. The two girls got changed quickly and returned. While waiting for the rest of the team, they killed time practicing shots on goal: Nat kicked, Van defended—laughing every time she missed badly or when Nat kicked too hard.

Little by little, the other girls arrived, and practice officially began. They started with basic warm-ups: a full lap around the field. Then ball control drills, a few free kicks, and some tactic reinforcement. After that, the team split in two for a scrimmage game.

Lottie and Nat ended up on the same team. It was normal. Nothing new. Nat, as always, played up front. Lottie held the defense line, usually near Van. Before, the two barely interacted — they simply shared the field. But now, they were starting to notice each other more. Nothing major. Just quick glances, subtle nods. A quiet kind of communication, like good teammates.

Not that they hadn’t been good teammates before. They just hadn’t really acknowledged each other’s existence enough to notice those little gestures.

Practice ended. Everyone headed to the locker room, showering in that usual mess of noise and laughter, chatting about the next game and how they were going to crush it at nationals. They were confident — and rightly so. They were good. Everything went as usual: jokes, dumb comments, quick showers, and rushed goodbyes.

Natalie was always one of the last to leave. She liked to enjoy the hot water in the locker room. She got dressed quickly. A black shirt. Striped pants. Hair pulled back, which made her angelic face stand out even more. Natalie had soft, feminine features that gave her a unique aura — something about the way she carried herself in the world. It was just her thing.

When she stepped out, the locker room was empty. Well, almost… because someone was still there. Matthews was absently fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Something wrong with your perfect hair, Matthews?”

Nat joked as she walked over to grab her silver necklace, which was lying near the mirror Lottie always seemed so fixated on.

“Oh… well, I’m not that vain.”

Lottie replied, finishing with her bangs. She turned toward Nat, leaning casually against the sink. Lottie looked flawless as always — not like someone who had just run laps and broken a sweat. She looked effortlessly chic, even in light jeans, a white long-sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed her collarbones, and black sneakers. Casual. Perfect. Lottie Matthews.

“So… actually… I was waiting for you.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Her tone was a little uncertain, like she was testing Nat, unsure whether she’d forgotten or didn’t care. Nat gave a crooked laugh.

“Right, of course you were. Take me somewhere fancy, rich girl. I’m starving.”

She shook her head, keeping up her usual sarcasm to hide her surprise. Lottie wasn’t joking. She hadn’t forgotten. Natalie had — but Lottie hadn’t. Fucking Lottie Matthews was dead serious.

They walked in silence out of the locker room, heading together to Lottie’s car. The girl got in, and Nat slid into the passenger seat, fastening her belt. Silence. Lottie turned on the radio — a reflex — before starting the engine. As Just a Girl, from No Doubt’s debut album, came on, Nat pulled a fake-shocked expression laced with her usual snark.

“Oh my God. Lottie Matthews is fucking Cher Horowitz.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and changed the song. As if she already knew the next track might please Natalie a little more, I Me Mine, by the Beatles, started playing.

“Okay. You didn’t have to change it.”

Nat’s voice was softer now — almost like an unspoken thank you. A way of acknowledging the gesture.

It took a moment before the girl behind the wheel spoke again — not because she was upset, but because she seemed overly focused on pulling the car out of the spot. Once they were on the road, Lottie picked the conversation back up, no pressure.

“I’m not some cliché, Nat. I don’t even like Clueless.”

Her tone was light. Not defensive — just honest.

“Yeah… pretty sure it’s your thing.”

Nat shot back with a teasing smile, then turned her gaze to the window.

“Oh God… I could honestly pay you to stop bothering me.”

Lottie laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Half your fortune, and I’ll leave you alone, Miss Matthews.”

“Okay, get out of my car, you extortionist. We’re here.”

She said, parking in front of the diner.

They walked in silence to the entrance and chose a booth near the window. The place wasn’t too crowded — a few teens chatting in groups or eating alone, some messing around at the air hockey table, others arguing by the arcade machine playing Street Fighter, debating whether it was better than King of Fighters.

They settled into the deep blue cushioned seats. The big window showed the sun slowly slipping behind the horizon, giving way to night. They placed their orders, and Nat laughed when she found out Lottie liked what was considered the worst item on the menu. Matthews just shrugged, too focused on chewing a small bite before groaning dramatically at the taste. She was starving, anyway.

“So… you’re telling me you don’t like Clueless?”

Nat broke the silence first. And for once, without sarcasm — just genuine curiosity. Lottie shifted her posture slightly, crossing one leg over the other in that elegant way of hers. There was a kind of magnetism to Matthews — something that made the boys by the arcade steal quick glances at her, but never actually approach. There was something delicate about how she moved — classy, perfect, almost unreal. Lottie Matthews and her apparent lack of flaws.

“I do like it.”

She admitted with a shy smile… maybe just a little smug.

“But… you know, you’re seeing me like a stereotype.”

She added, shooting a look straight at Natalie, who now wore that smug little grin — the kind that said I knew it, or just relished being right.

“Don’t let that go to your head, Scatorccio.”

Lottie finished with a dismissive flick of her shoulder — graceful, effortless, and way too refined for something meant to downplay importance.

“Oh wow!! Seriously!! You’re totally not a walking cliché. I mean, it’s not like you have a best friend whose entire personality revolves around you or anything.”

And the sarcasm was back — sharp, inevitable, and oddly comforting, like part of who Nat was.

They kept talking, getting to know each other — but never too deep. They carved out this little space where they could actually call themselves acquaintances — sharing superficial things like favorite movies, or surprises like Nat secretly loving rom-coms like Dirty Dancing, and Lottie being into bloody slasher flicks. Nothing really hidden, but just enough to show a kind of trust that hadn’t been there before. Nothing major. Just teammates now exchanging words beyond game strategies.

After they ate, they walked silently to the parking lot. They shared a cigarette, and another surprise for Nat: Lottie actually knew how to smoke. She’d done it before. Smoked now and then — not exactly a dirty secret, but something people probably wouldn’t expect.

Lottie looked elegant smoking. The cigarette between her fingers made her look like some old-school magazine cover model. The way she leaned on the car — relaxed but still refined — felt effortlessly cinematic.

Then, they got in the car. Lottie dropped Nat off at home. Their goodbye was casual — a simple exchange of thanks and a quick “bye,” with no looking back.

Maybe Lottie Matthews wasn’t a fucking stereotype after all.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since the girls went out, talked, and acknowledged — for the first time — each other’s presence in their lives. After that day, both of them felt like things didn’t seem quite so invisible anymore. They were no longer strangers who happened to know each other — they were acquaintances who now recognized each other.

Still, they hadn’t shared much since that meeting. Things slowly returned to how they were before: Lottie in her glamorous little world, Nat in her chaotic one. Each stuck in her own routine.

The conversation from that day became a ghost, buried beneath the repetition of their days — something fleeting, yet leaving behind a hidden weight. A weight neither of them knew how to name, or maybe just didn’t care enough to try.

Lottie went back to filling her time with all the usual activities — the ones that kept her sealed inside her glass dome. A world where only a few were allowed in, and many wished they were. But Lottie Matthews, for all she had, felt out of place in it.

In some way, she was her own little world. Always living on the edges of the one she was supposed to belong to. The one she was meant to fit into — but never really did. Even if, from the outside, it looked like she did.

“How was your psychiatrist appointment, darling?”

Her father asked. Mr. Matthews sat at the head of the long dining table — his designated spot at every family meal. Lottie sat beside him, with her mother on the other side. The table, far too large for just three people, felt empty either way.

He picked up the cloth napkin, embroidered with the family initials in navy blue, and casually wiped his mouth. He wasn’t the most affectionate type of father, but he did seem concerned about her latest appointment. Or maybe — more than concerned — he was worried about the kind of attention Lottie’s therapy might bring.

“It was fine. They upped the dose.”

She replied flatly, barely looking up from her plate.

A long silence followed, stretching until everyone was done eating. Mr. Matthews stood, adjusted his suit, buttoning it with practiced precision, and gave his daughter one last glance before walking out — without a word.

Lottie got up as well and went upstairs. She had to get her workout clothes ready before Jackie, Shauna, and Laura Lee came by to pick her up.

Meanwhile, Natalie had been wandering around the school since early that morning. She hadn’t opened up the shop that day — she needed time to clean, reorganize the shelves, and check the quality of some products she’d ordered a while ago.

Well, she didn’t exactly have the money to hire anyone to help her, so she had to do everything herself. Sometimes Kevin and Van would lend a hand, but lately they’d been caught up in their own crap. And Nat… well, Nat had to deal with it.

But she would manage. She always did — no matter how hard things got. Natalie was a survivor. She’d lived through way worse than a tiring shift or the slow grind of a routine.

She took advantage of the empty field to rest for a while on the bleachers, unwrapping a sandwich she’d brought earlier, along with an orange juice spiked with some cheap liquor. She enjoyed the silence for a few minutes before pulling her old friend and loyal companion — her walkman — out of her backpack, letting Grace by Jeff Buckley flood her ears and wash away her problems, if only for a moment.

Nat liked these moments of silence, when the world seemed to pause just for her — and those moments were rare. Because time… time was the most precious thing Nat had. And that, she barely had any of.

In Shauna’s car, Lottie seemed more introspective than usual. Jackie, of course, sat in the front seat — Shauna’s passenger princess.

No one really knew the nature of their relationship, but Tai had once mentioned to Lottie that she was pretty sure the two of them were hooking up, sneaking in makeout sessions when no one was looking. Lottie could picture it — not that she cared enough to lose sleep over it.

Laura Lee sat next to her, eyes closed. She looked like she was praying. Lottie could tell when that was happening — the girl always clutched her crucifix necklace to her chest like her life depended on it.

“Violet” by Hole was blasting from Shauna’s car speakers, and the girl in the flannel shirts seemed way too focused on chatting with her best friend to notice the state Lottie was in.

They just needed to get there fast — or Coach Scott would punish them with five full laps around the court.

Lottie doubted Ben was actually capable of that kind of cruelty. He probably just threw out the threat to make sure they didn’t skip out on practice by accident.

In the end, all the girls on the team were gathered again, wrapping up their training session and listening to Coach Scott’s usual speech about the importance of being well-prepared for when the game season officially kicked off. Three weeks to go. They’d been working hard for this — they knew exactly where they wanted to be.

Melissa said something dumb about how they were going to be unbeatable, and everyone responded with playful whistles and a kind of determined excitement.

Meanwhile, Lottie and Nat seemed equally lost in their own worlds. They didn’t really talk, but they exchanged a few quick glances, faint half-smiles — a quiet “hey” — and some casual nods. Nothing out of the ordinary.

From the outside, they looked like always: distant, detached, only interacting because they played on the same team. But on the inside, they both knew — those nods and small gestures had finally taken on a new meaning. They now meant: oh… we actually know each other. For real.

This time, they ended up on separate teams. Nothing unusual — they were used to facing each other. But there was something different about it now. An added edge, like they were daring each other through every move, hiding their intentions behind sharp, practiced skills.

Their matchups were common. Lottie played defense, Nat played offense. Naturally, they crossed paths a lot. Neither of them held back. They were still the same sharp, relentless players as always — but now, there was a hunger. A deeper need to outplay the other. As if knowing each other had turned into rivalry. And all the sarcasm in their words had leaked into their footwork.

They shoved, clashed, collided. It all seemed normal — until a tougher play ended with Nat knocking Lottie to the ground. Her cleats accidentally dug into Lottie’s leg. The game stopped. Nat shot her a worried look. Got a card. Lottie nodded back, like “I’m fine,” even if it hurt like hell.

They kept playing, even with Ben telling them to take a break.

By the end, as everyone headed to the locker rooms, Nat walked over to Lottie — who was sitting on a bench off to the side, inspecting her bruised leg.

She handed her an ice pack.

“You okay?”

she asked, sitting down beside her. Her tone was uncertain, laced with visible guilt and concern.

Lottie looked at her, took the ice, and gave her a faint smile before pressing it to the purple mark, letting out a small groan — part pain, part relief.

“My team’s win makes up for the fact that you almost took my leg off. Good game.”

she joked, trying to crack through the tension.

Nat gave a crooked smile. Took the ice pack from her hand and pressed it more gently against the bruise.

“Good game,”

she echoed, focused now on fixing what she’d messed up.

And it made Lottie wonder if whatever this was had always been there, or if that casual conversation from days ago had made them start seeing each other — really seeing each other — for the first time.

“You fucking loser,”

Lottie muttered, soft and stupidly elegant — that classic, effortless sarcasm of hers.

“Keep talking shit and I’ll stomp your other leg, princess of soccer.”

Nat snapped back — her sarcasm rougher, sharper. Like she’d trained that husky voice just to make it 100% Natalie.

Jackie walked up to them before they could keep going with the teasing game they’d been playing.

“So… are you still coming with us?”

She asked Lottie, mostly ignoring Nat at first. Not on purpose — they weren’t exactly close, didn’t talk much, and well, Jackie was to Nat what Lottie used to be: just a coincidence of being on the same team.

Nat was about to get up and leave the two of them alone, but Lottie spoke before she could do anything.

“Yeah. Nat’s coming with us. She owes me support after that,” 

she said casually, making it clear Natalie would be tagging along too.

Jackie nodded and walked off to call Shauna and Mari. Laura Lee had gone home earlier — something about drinking and smoking on top of a car in a parking lot not really fitting her religious vibe.

Nat rolled her eyes, finding Matthews absolutely unbelievable in that moment.

“You don’t think I have better shit to do than to support your ass like a fucking crutch, Matthews?”

It was sarcasm. Nat wasn’t actually refusing to go, but she definitely wasn’t fully comfortable with the idea — not that she made that obvious.

“Oh, come on, Nat. I know you’d love to spend more time with me.”

She teased — but there was a slight hint of insistence in her tone, like Lottie was just about to beg, except in the most sophisticated and contained way possible. After all, she was Charlotte Matthews, right? She didn’t need to beg for anything. She just had it.

Nat paused for a second. Honestly, she didn’t have anything better to do. Maybe she actually wanted to go. Maybe just to make sure Matthews didn’t lose her leg by the end of the night.

Not that she cared.

She just didn’t want her rich-ass dad sending her to jail or some shit.

Or maybe, deep down, this was the perfect excuse to be around Matthews a little longer.

“Okay. But you owe me one, Matthews.”

Minutes later, the two of them were sitting on the hood of Shauna’s car, smoking. The other three girls had gone to get food and drinks. Lottie couldn’t walk properly, and Nat had been assigned the task of not leaving her alone in the parking lot.

The car radio played softly in the background — some depressing track from Shauna’s playlist. Love Me, Please Love Me, by Michel Polnareff. They sat in silence. Nat took a drag from her cigarette and passed it to Lottie, who accepted it gladly. They were both too tired to talk. They just enjoyed the moment in quiet.

Lottie rubbed her arms. Something about the hour and the wind was bothering her. Well… she wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather, though she still looked too good, too perfect, to care about the cold — only about the way she looked.

 “fuck off, Matthews” 

 Nat muttered, rolling her eyes.

She pulled off the jacket she wore over her dark green flannel and Nirvana t-shirt, tossing it onto Lottie’s lap.

Lottie didn’t say anything. She just slipped it on.

The jacket smelled like smoke, cigarettes, vanilla — something earthy. Not bad. Somehow it was both rough and comforting. It felt like Nat, in its own way.

It took a while for the girls to come back. They returned laughing at something stupid they had said to each other. Shauna was the first to stop and notice Lottie wearing Nat’s jacket. It wasn’t exactly a big deal — she just didn’t know the two had gotten that close. 

 “Oh,God, finally”

Lottie said, clearly relieved the waiting was over.

She grabbed one of the sandwiches from Mari. Everyone was starving anyway. They each took theirs, started chatting about the game, sharing drinks, joking around. Nat seemed more at ease as the conversation flowed through the group.

It felt like a regular team hangout — just with a bit more intimacy.

They lingered there for a while, possibly returning after curfew. All the girls went along to drop Nat off at home, since she was the only one who didn’t live nearby or on anyone’s way.

The night ended well.

And well… this time, Lottie didn’t keep a piece of Nat with her.

Chapter Text

That weekend, Natalie didn’t open the store. The whole week had been cold and rainy anyway, and customers just vanished from the streets on days like that. When the weather got like this, no one really wanted to go to a record store—people preferred to stay home under blankets, or head to some café to drink something hot enough to warm their skin or burn their tongues.

She took the weekend to do a deep clean. Those records were in desperate need of a good dusting, and the shelves needed some work too. She also had to find space to stock the CDs she’d bought to resell. Nat wasn’t entirely sure if investing in that format would pay off, but it was 1996—and people were going crazy for anything more compact.

Vinyl still carried that cult vibe and remained the favorite among true music lovers, but CDs were more accessible, cheaper, easier to deal with than records—and more complete than cassette tapes. Some of the newer cars even came with CD players. And, well… Nat kind of liked seeing those little things fly off the shelves and turn into cash in her pocket. They were a bit cheaper than vinyl, sure—but apparently, they sold fast.

She also had the big task of painting and fixing a section of wall that had gotten water damage from the recent rains. Fixing it ate up half the money she’d been saving to buy her own stuff—and to restock her weed, which also sold way too fast thanks to the school burnouts and spoiled little boys trying way too hard to look cool and edgy.

That part of the wall was hidden behind a few old, dusty record sleeves that had been used as decoration for quite a while but wouldn’t survive another winter. And besides, the store’s natural scent—a mix of weed, wood, coffee, and cigarette smoke—was starting to be overpowered by the stench of mildew, and that was beginning to bother her.

Lottie loved rainy days. They usually meant a rare moment of peace in her life—and they brought out her more introspective side. She could spend hours in her room, sitting by the window with an absurdly thick blanket on her lap, reading and sipping a cappuccino with way too much foam while listening to the rain.

The sky was gray, the window soaked on the outside. But Lottie… Lottie was lost in the dissonant world of Esther Greenwood, the protagonist of Sylvia Plath’s novel. It was taking her a while to finish the book—she needed breaks between pages just to breathe. It was heavy, sometimes. But it was also magnetic, pulling her back in every single time.

She was taking her time. And a generous sip of cappuccino before it got cold.

There was a feeling in her chest, like something had filled it up—as if the past few days had actually been good, really good, despite the small annoyances Lottie usually cared way too much about. That Saturday came like any other, quiet to the point of discomfort for someone who carried an entire ocean inside. Sure, the month had its complications, its patterns, its bad moments. But something felt different now. Lottie couldn’t quite put her finger on it—maybe it was just an impression, maybe it was just the relief of not having her parents around, forcing her to attend some fancy event or another. Still, her chest felt… lighter.

She read through the entire chapter, paused, and marked a specific line on page two hundred and thirty-four—something that would stay with her for a while, maybe with a slight worry that it was hitting a bit too close to home. Something in that sentence, which Lottie followed with her eyes and mentally highlighted over and over, sounded like her. It sounded like Lottie saying:

“If I was going to fall, let it be wrapped in my small pleasures, for as long as possible.”

She sighed, then let out a nasal laugh. Why the hell was she identifying with such a depressed character? Lottie wasn’t like that… but she wasn’t the always-happy type either. She was the kind who understood solitude—and knew exactly when her solitude turned into melancholy.

Something about the rain made her ridiculously happy, but also melancholic, dramatic, and completely swept up in her reading. She kept going, and her eyes landed on something even more interesting—something that grabbed her, that warmed her chest, though she couldn’t say exactly why.

“Her thoughts weren’t my thoughts, her feelings weren’t my feelings, but we were close enough that her thoughts and feelings felt like a distorted, shadowy version of my own.”

Maybe she was too deep into that world and needed to stop. So, as someone who loves to leave marks on her books—and is harshly judged by those literary purists who can’t stand folded pages—she simply turned down the corner of page two hundred and forty-five and set the book on her nightstand.

Nat was focused on her hard work. She hated how records always got disorganized, how one section would spill into another like people didn’t know how to put anything back in place. She pulled a few from the front, carefully placing them into boxes in an order that wouldn’t confuse her later when reshelving, packing them tightly so that not a single drop of paint would land on her precious source of income.

While she worked, she took sips of her drink—a way to stay alert, as if a shot of cheap gin could replace a cup of coffee. She avoided eating, was obsessively cautious about the possibility of dirty fingers touching her stock. Vinyls, CDs, tapes… too sensitive to be handled with greasy or sauce-stained hands.

She did it all with care: covered the surfaces and started painting. It wasn’t a large area, just a small part where the water stain had set in. In about two hours, everything was back in its usual place.

Now Nat was reorganizing the records, putting the new releases up front, on a shelf closer to the entrance. On another, more strategic one, were the bestsellers, and further back, the classics. Everything was falling into place—though the shop, small as it was, still needed way more than a single day to be properly cleaned.

But at least Nat had taken care of the mold on the wall. Now, she was going to try fixing her tape deck, because there was no way in hell she was paying over 80 bucks to get it repaired at some fancy electronics store. She’d figure it out. She’d already taken apart a VHS player once, when the damn Pretty in Pink tape got stuck while she was rewinding it to return to the video store. Well… she did end up having to buy that tape, since she messed it up in the process. But opening a tape deck couldn’t be worse than that.

The rainy Saturday went by just like that. October seemed to be announcing the real start of fall—with heavy rains that stretched from one day into the next. Stuck at home because of the downpour, Lottie was starting to feel restless. She was quiet, calm, steady… but total stillness could open up an unexpected hole in her desire to stay withdrawn.

Jackie and Shauna had gone to some kind of mountain cabin, or something like that. Lottie didn’t quite get it—hiking, nature, whatever. Just hearing about it made her feel tired. Not that she was sedentary—quite the opposite. But walking for hours and climbing hills in the middle of the woods wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. Even though she did like lakes, and the sound of trees when her parents decided to escape the chaos of the city for a few days.

Laura Lee had gone on one of those spiritual retreats she did every weekend. It wasn’t really Lottie’s thing, though she had challenged herself to go a few times—and, surprisingly, had even enjoyed playing the role of ultra-devout girl for a couple of weekends.

She sighed. Her thoughts drifted, almost unintentionally, to Natalie. To the record store. But she didn’t know if Natalie opened on Sundays—and it would be weird to just show up there unannounced. She didn’t even have her number. Never asked for it. And showing up with some random excuse wouldn’t work. She didn’t want Natalie thinking she was… stalking her, or anything like that.

So she tried to distract herself with TV. An old episode of Pride and Prejudice was on, and it ended up keeping Lottie entertained for the rest of the afternoon.

Nat got to the locker room early. That day, there wouldn’t be regular classes—just the opening game of the school championship, one of the first rounds before they’d really start competing for a spot in the state finals, and eventually, nationals.

She was nervous. It wasn’t the most important game of the season, but it was the opener. And losing the opener? Not on her watch—not if her competitive spirit had anything to say about it. Her ego didn’t allow for slip-ups.

She took advantage of the empty room and lit a cigarette, trying to find some calm in the drag of cheap tobacco.

Van showed up a few minutes later. She sat next to Nat and shared the cigarette with her.

But then—someone else walked in.

The girls tensed, borderline panicked at the idea of getting caught smoking in there. It could’ve been anyone eager to snitch. It could’ve been Jackie, the team captain. Or maybe a school staff member checking to see if the place was empty.

But no…

It was just fucking Lottie Matthews, making one of her quiet — but somehow magnetic — entrances.

Nat let out a dry, sarcastic laugh, putting the cigarette back between her lips.

“Jesus, Matthews.”

She laughed at herself, and Van joined in.

There was something about Nat’s natural reaction that made Van relax—like the quick shift from hiding the cigarette to casually smoking it again, paired with a snarky line, was some kind of sign. A silent reassurance:

Matthews wasn’t gonna rat them out.

Even if she didn’t know why exactly, Nat trusted that much.

Lottie just smiled, like she was agreeing with the gesture, and turned toward the mirror with almost regal steps.

She was a fucking nature queen — there was something effortlessly elegant about the way she moved. The way she looked in the mirror, smoothing her hair and gently touching her eyelids… there was vanity, but not in a self-obsessed or annoying way.

It felt natural. Like she cared about looking good — not just for others, but for herself too. Maybe Natalie could see that now. Maybe Lottie existed just barely outside the mold, even though she still looked like she fit in it. A fucking stereotype… but somehow, with a little more soul. Like she owned it. She just was.

The game was intense — the other team clearly didn’t want to lose the opener either. In the first half, they took a goal after a misstep in formation; Laura Lee’s side of the defense had been left wide open. But in the second half, after relaxing a little and fixing their positions, the tension turned into focus. Shauna scored the first goal, and Jackie got the second one right after, off a perfect play set up by Natalie. It was incredible.

They ran, hugged, celebrated. Did a dumb little victory dance, like the whole world existed on that field for a second.

Lottie and Nat weren’t exactly close, but for a brief moment, Lottie caught her eye. She gave her a small nod and a smile — the kind that said, “that was a brilliant play.”

In the locker room, the girls were dancing, laughing, making plans to celebrate the win somewhere. Lottie stood in front of her locker, folding up her uniform before tossing it in the laundry bag. She’d already changed.

Natalie was ready too — backpack on, wearing that gray T-shirt they usually trained in. Her face was clean — which meant she’d showered and wiped off the black eyeliner and shadow she always wore.

She walked up quietly. Just like always. Lottie noticed her, of course, but she also knew that even standing right there, Natalie wasn’t going to be the first to say something.

So she beat her to it.

She glanced at Mari and Melissa, still deep in conversation, arguing over where to go celebrate.

“So… are you coming?”

She asked it casually — or tried to — not really knowing what answer she was hoping for.

Maybe… maybe she did want Nat to go.

Lottie adjusted her bangs — an automatic move. It might’ve looked like vanity, but it was just another one of those natural Lottie Matthews things.

“Oh… no.”

Natalie replied. Not too fast — which somehow made it sound like maybe, just maybe, she did want to go.

Lottie took a second to react. Natalie noticed — and she knew Lottie was waiting for a reason.

“I’ve got some stuff going on at the store. Like… totally swamped.”

She rolled her eyes, in that classic Natalie way.

And then, out of nowhere, Lottie spoke again — like some sudden burst of courage had bubbled up out of nowhere.

“You need some help?”

Natalie tilted her head slightly back. Her raised eyebrows and the crease forming on her forehead betrayed a kind of surprise. But soon a smile spread across her lips — one of those lopsided smiles, where she bit the inside of her cheek, stopping herself from grinning too widely and, in turn, from letting the sarcasm show too much. She kept it just right: sharp, as always, and effortless.

“I’m not sure you could survive in the real world for a few hours. But I’d love to give you that reality check, princess. So… I’m in.”

It was the longest thing Nat had ever said to Lottie — the most extended sarcasm, the most complete sentence she’d gotten from her in this whole month they’d grown closer.

Still, Lottie didn’t reply. She just smiled and tightened the strap of her backpack over her shoulders, walking toward the door. Nat followed her out to the car, in silence.

They both got in. Lottie pulled out of the parking spot, and once they were on the road, she let her gaze rest on Nat for a while — not in a way that Nat would fully notice. Not even Lottie was entirely aware of it. It was subtle. She liked the image. She was capturing it.

Nat’s window was down. She was smoking. The wind blew her hair back with the smoke, carrying that distinctive Marlboro Red smell — strong, striking. Her heels were up on the seat, completely at ease — the way Nat always was. Always claiming any space as her own, and making it seem… effortless.

Lottie turned on the radio. And as if it had been scripted, “Bette Davis Eyes” by Kim Carnes started playing. Lottie took a moment, then said:

“Sounds like you. But… ridiculously pop.”

She said it naturally, without thinking much. The moment didn’t carry any real weight yet. Maybe it would later. But for now, it was just another comment.

Nat laughed. Naturally. As always. She took a drag of her cigarette, exhaled the smoke — angelically unbothered.

“Yeah… I definitely must sound like something pop.”

She threw it out there, but not like she was offended. She was just… accepting it. You could tell she took it as a compliment. But a clear response wouldn’t come from Nat. Not without sarcasm. She’d definitely liked it.

When they got to the shop, there was a small issue with the door. It clearly needed a solid layer of oil on its hinges, which made Nat have to push it a bit harder than usual. But she handled it like someone who was used to forgetting about that little detail, walking in—and naturally being followed by Lottie.

Matthews dropped her backpack on Nat’s bed while the girl headed into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for something they could eat—only to give up a moment later. Not because they were empty; actually, there was more food there than usual. But it just seemed more practical to order something from the nearest pizza place.

So, Scatorccio went to the phone, which hung from a makeshift hook next to her bedroom door.

Lottie looked around, curious, taking everything in. Nat’s room made it clear she knew how to put her personality into things. It wasn’t messy—not even close—but it was full of detail. Creative, scrappy, unmistakably punk. Nat was cool. She had something that was entirely her own, and Lottie could see that.

And as if she had permission to look, though still holding herself back from touching anything or seeming too nosy, she stepped closer to the little shelf above Nat’s nightstand. There were some photos.

She recognized Nat in a few of them—much younger, her features still childlike, holding up a record by The Only Ones. She looked stupidly happy, the kind of smile that said, “this kid just tore open their Christmas present like it was the most exciting thing in the world.” It was cute.

There were other photos with Kevin, and even one of the team. Lottie was in it—curiously close to Nat. She had that same photo too, but had never really paid attention to it before. It was like the fact that they were standing near each other had never been something to notice. They just were. But now it felt like something clicked—maybe the realization that they’d always been in the same orbit.

Her gaze drifted up, to the VHS tapes lined above the photos.

And God… Nat was really one of those super cool, different girls. The kind who owned Phantom of the Paradise, Fantastic Planet, and Edward Scissorhands—in that exact order.

And almost hidden, there was a copy of Pretty in Pink.

“Oh… I like this one.”

She picked it up on impulse—the kind of impulse you get when you really love something and just can’t help yourself. Running her fingers delicately across the cover, she examined the box.

“Yeah, that does seem like your kind of thing.”

Nat replied in her usual tone, still waiting for the phone signal that meant it was her turn to place the order. She always hoped that, by the time the delivery guy left to bring it, the universe would collapse on him just enough to make him late—so the pizza would end up free.

It didn’t take long for the pizza to arrive, but still, they were both hungry enough to complain about the wait. Much to Nat’s disappointment, the delivery guy wasn’t late—traffic didn’t screw him over, and neither did the weather. The pizza wasn’t exactly her favorite, but it was funny watching her eat something with that much enthusiasm while still managing to complain about it. Lottie found it charming—the classic Italian girl, always complaining.

“So… does that mean you’re Italian?”

Lottie asked, not because she actually wanted to ask the obvious, but because she wanted Nat to talk about it without needing to push or dig too deep. The truth was, she just wanted to know more about Nat—for some reason. Maybe to understand her better, or because there was some strange need to try and figure her out. But not by pressing, just by feeling out the edges—afraid of pushing past the limits of whatever was slowly forming between them.

So she went with the obvious question. That way, if Nat shut her down, she could just make a joke about how rhetorical she’d been. Something like, “fuck off, Matthews,” or “Jesus, Matthews,” with that familiar half-smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“My dad was.”

She answered without much hesitation. Just direct. But not in a rude way—there was a soft undertone hidden in her voice, and the way Nat expressed herself physically didn’t come off as cold, just natural. 

Lottie paused. She already knew what had happened to Nat’s father—it hadn’t been hard to find out when everyone at school was talking about it two years ago. She hesitated for a second, trying not to make things awkward.

“So that makes you, like… a pasta sommelier or something?”

Lottie said, trying not to laugh.

“Fuck off, Matthews.”

Nat joked, laughing, giving Lottie’s shoulder a light push before going back to her food.

Lottie laughed too. It felt easy. And kind of close, somehow. The tone might’ve been rough, but it was softened by a friendly touch—something new between them.

Lottie Matthews wasn’t a terrible helper. In fact, she had a great sense of aesthetics and organization—something Natalie silently admired as they sorted through boxes of records and cleaned the shelves.

Lottie also wasn’t the kind of girl who was grossed out by dust or anything like that—which impressed Nat, because, come on, Matthews was a fucking rich girl who had probably never seen a speck of dirt in her life.

Still, as someone whose stuff had always been vacuumed by someone else and who had probably never even wiped down a shelf, she sneezed like a little puppy.

And like… even her fucking sneeze sounded rich. Natalie could definitely record it and sell it. It was delicate and, for some reason, elegant.

“Don’t rub your delicate little nose like that. You’re gonna actually give yourself allergies.”

She said it while watching Lottie keep swiping her dusty hand across her nose. The tone was caring, though still laced with Nat’s usual way of sounding like she was always kind of making fun of things.

Gradually, the sneezing faded. Matthews was getting used to the dust. Well, she was now officially qualified to clean her own shelves—and the ridiculous thought made Nat smile wider than usual. 

Lottie noticed.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

The smile turned into a laugh, and Lottie figured Nat must’ve been teasing her somehow. She gave the other girl a light shove on the shoulder, muttering a playful “asshole.”

There was no annoyance in it—just laughter. Lottie was still grinning as she cursed.

Lottie seemed focused on her task — cleaning, sorting, asking Natalie about the records. It was common for her to break the comfortable silence between them with questions like “Who’s this band?” or remarks like “Oh, I know this one.”

Nat answered willingly, with an almost devout love for music. She spoke briefly about the records or the bands Lottie asked about — some more obscure, outside the mainstream circuit, like Depeche Mode, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Church, and The The. Others, Lottie already recognized: The Cure, Joy Division, Radiohead, The Smiths, and, of course, The Beatles.

“You don’t seem to like them very much.”

Lottie teased, holding up the Let It Be record. Nat remembered hearing I Me Mine in Lottie’s car. Maybe she really did like the band — way more than Nat did.

“Well… they’re good, you know that. I just don’t listen to them much.”

She shrugged, still watching Lottie.

Lottie was looking at the back of the record sleeve, where the songs are listed along with their sides — like, Side A and Side B. She seemed to be reading it carefully.

“I like For You Blue, by the way.”

Nat said casually, just wrapping up the topic.

Lottie placed the record back on the classics shelf, then went to clean the rack Nat had set aside for CDs — the one near the window, where the bestsellers were displayed.

Nat left Lottie organizing the shelves and went to get more boxes. This was the last one. She thought about betting a little on alternative and psychedelic folk, since some strange old men had been visiting her shop in greater numbers than she had expected. Maybe it was a good idea to please them a bit — which would mean more money and more customers, even if they smelled like incense, scented candles, and Camel cigarettes.

She began organizing the albums by The Holy Modal Rounders, Donovan, Linda Perhacs, and Tim Buckley. In the end, she picked up the Tír na nÓg album from 1971. She looked at the cover and the back, searching for a specific track — there it was: Side A, third song. Then, subtly, she caught Lottie’s attention.

“Maybe you’d like this one. Sounds like you, but in alternative folk.”

She teased, recalling something Lottie had said earlier. Scatorccio removed the record from its cover with almost a masterful delicacy, as if she were holding the world in her hands. Carefully, she lifted the needle from the turntable and placed the record. Focused, she positioned the needle exactly on the track she wanted.

Daisy Lady, by Tír na nÓg.

That song was like Lottie, for some reason. It sounded like her.

So it seemed only right that Natalie was the one to show it to her.

Lottie didn’t answer immediately, just letting herself be carried away by the music. She really liked it, and she would definitely record it onto a tape and add it to her collection to listen to in the car. They continued working for another two hours, listening to the album. Lottie liked Daisy Lady and some other similar songs, but others seemed new and strange to her inexperienced ears. But Nat… Nat just appreciated it, silently, contemplative, just like she appreciated the pop music that played in Lottie’s car, without really judging it. Just being, a true lover of music, even if it wasn’t completely her style.

By the time it was nearing dusk, they finally finished, sighing with tiredness and a sense of duty fulfilled. Lottie grumbled, complaining about how tired she was, and Nat laughed, calling her to smoke outside. They both went out in silence, leaned against the wall, and shared a cigarette. They watched the street for a moment, and when the cigarette burned down completely, and Lottie was showing signs that she needed to leave, Nat spoke.

“I definitely needed a helper, Matthews. I think I owe you one.”

She said casually, with her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. It was getting colder, and it seemed like it was going to rain that night. Lottie smiled, appreciating the moment for a while.

“You know… I’m free on Sundays.”

She said casually, without thinking too much. Nat laughed nasally, nodding in agreement, letting the silence fill the gap between their words. Then, seconds later, Lottie clicked.

“Well… I have to go.”

It was hesitant. She wasn’t sure how to say goodbye to that moment. Then she looked at Nat’s face, gave her a goodbye smile, and walked towards the car. Before opening the door and getting in, Nat fired off.

“I’ll see you on Sunday, Lottie.”

Chapter Text

On Thursday, Lottie had promised to grab lunch at the mall with Shauna, Jackie, and Laura Lee after class. It was just another one of those things the small group of girls did — they’d always meet up on some random day of the week to catch up. Nothing big, just girls talking about whatever stuff they were into at the time. And with exams looming and the pressure from the playoffs — trying to qualify for the round of sixteen, then the quarters, semis, and finally the finals to make it to nationals — they were all getting more and more anxious. These little hangouts were just a tiny break in the middle of everything happening.

So there they were, sitting on the food court benches. They still hadn’t figured out what to eat yet; they were debating between Japanese food or some greasy fast food burger, the kind that’s probably loaded with preservatives and would eventually wreck their stomachs or hearts. But they were young — they could afford to mess around with their health a little, even though they did it in a way more controlled way than most teens.

“So… how’s everyone feeling? I think I’m kinda freaking out about the exams,”

Laura Lee started, sounding all serious. She was wearing her usual stuff, which was way too grown-up for her age. It made her look like she belonged at a retirement home — something about floral blouses, light cardigans, way-too-long skirts, and that little silver crucifix hanging from her neck. It was a small thing, but it said a lot about her.

“Ugh… I think I’m totally screwed in geometry,”

Jackie complained, rolling her eyes. She was way too attached to Shauna, always so close to her — maybe a little too close, but not enough to say anything out loud about it, or admit what they really thought about being so close. Sure, it could look like just two best friends, but most of the time… maybe it was something more. They didn’t say anything, though. They were just “best friends,” like they always said. Jackie had her chin on Shauna’s shoulder, arms wrapped around her. Shauna was wearing a cream flannel with tiny yellow stripes and thick dark-blue ones. The heart-shaped necklace hung loose over her chest, visible because her oversized shirt had a couple of buttons undone. Shauna’s hand was resting on Jackie’s lap, and Lottie could’ve sworn Jackie was about to end up sitting in Shauna’s lap any minute, even though they had an entire bench to themselves.

But hey… at least Shauna’s flannel and Jackie’s blue-and-white striped top gave a nice visual contrast between them.

“I’m pretty chill about everything. Well… just kinda worried about the games. You guys think we’ll make it to nationals? I know it’s still a bit far, but I’ve been thinking about it,”

Lottie said, sounding casual. She was definitely concerned about the games, but it also seemed like she was just asking how the others were feeling — if they were as worried as she was, if they felt ready.

Lottie had on a simple white top and white jeans, topped off with a dark blue denim jacket and a matching “Oster Power” cap. Her black sunglasses were hanging on her shirt, and her little leather bag matched the rest of her outfit. She wore barely-there makeup, the kind that made it look like she just woke up and was naturally perfect.

“You know, I thought we came here to forget about all that,”

Shauna said, cutting in. She let go of Jackie’s hand just to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

Lottie wasn’t really sure if it was just a deep friendship thing — because, well, when you’re really close to someone, maybe you just hold hands or rest your hands on each other’s laps, or mess around with each other’s fingers like Jackie and Shauna did. But she had no idea why she was paying so much attention to it, or why she was overthinking it.

Maybe because she’d never been that close to anyone before.

But before she could dwell on it, the conversation shifted. Jackie was talking about her trip to Shauna’s family’s country house, all excited, while Shauna just nodded along, acting all grumpy like usual.

“We should plan to go again next Sunday, and you guys could come too,”

Jackie suggested, her voice full of energy.

Shauna shrugged, and Laura Lee just went with the flow, saying she probably wouldn’t have anything planned for the weekend, so maybe she could go.

Then they all turned to Lottie, who seemed a little too neutral about the idea.

“Oh… no. I kinda already have plans,”

she said casually, flipping through the menu on the random table they’d ended up at. They hadn’t actually decided anything yet.

The girls exchanged glances and broke into a chorus of “hmmm” — that teasing sound that means “who’s the guy you’re going out with?”

Lottie quickly cut in before they could take it any further:

“I’m meeting up with Natalie.”

She blurted it out, almost like she had to explain herself right away, terrified they’d think she was out with some random guy.

But now, the girls were even more curious, because, well, Lottie and Natalie weren’t exactly close.

“I’m just… helping her at the record store.”

Nat was sitting near the shop counter, now cluttered with books she was flipping through absentmindedly while taking slow drags from a cigarette, not really caring about smoking indoors. Truth was, she was trying hard to focus on soaking up every cursed word in that stupid language.

She desperately needed to score an A+, because on her last exams for the same class, she had pulled an F… and then a D. Natalie wasn’t a bad student — not even close. She actually worked her ass off to do well, despite the chaos of her life and the disinterested attitude she liked to show at school.

In most subjects, she was solid: chemistry, philosophy, physics, Italian, geometry, literature, English… She always managed to hold her own. But history?. In history, she was freaking brilliant. Like, the best in the class. If people knew how much she actually cared, they’d probably call her a nerd.

But no one knew. No one knew she was good at history, that the teacher basically adored her, or that she could probably snag a scholarship to a decent college… if she had any plans for the future, of course. Nat never talked about it. She was never the bragging type.

Music played in the background, ambient but loud enough for Nat to notice. She’d managed to fix the tape recorder recently and was using it now, testing it by recording new stuff. The song playing was the very first thing she recorded after getting it to work again — and it had worked. Only, it wasn’t exactly her kind of song. Not something she would’ve picked out on her own.For some reason, she had recorded a song she’d heard the last time she rode in Lottie’s car.

It had been playing on the radio, and Lottie had mentioned it was a new release, that it was getting a lot of airplay, and that she liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. Nat had filed that away. Captured the moment — and the song. “Like Dylan in the Movies,” by Belle and Sebastian. Now, as she listened, Nat found herself — almost against her will — wondering what exactly it was about that song that had pulled Lottie in. It was a thought she’d had while recording… and it still lingered now, tucked somewhere in the back of her mind.

She had also recorded “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by the Velvet Underground — a song Nat already knew well, but now, somehow, it felt like it belonged to Lottie too. And, God, Lottie Matthews was a goddamn mess. She liked so many different things, half of them nothing alike, and somehow there was still this weird connection between all of it. 

Something Nat couldn’t quite figure out, but that felt unmistakably like Matthews. Something inside Nat throbbed with curiosity, because the image she had of Lottie was slowly breaking apart, shifting from just one thing into many. Something Nat would have to piece together, one fragment at a time, until she could finally see the full picture again. The truth was, without even realizing it, Nat was starting to let go of the stereotype she had always tried to force Matthews into.

The thought — that maybe Lottie wasn’t just some rich, spoiled girl — kept circling in her mind every time she thought about how unexpectedly close they’d gotten. Well… not that Nat cared. And it wasn’t like she considered Lottie all that close anyway — they were just… getting to know each other a little better, that was all.

But it was exactly because of that — because of the small conversations, the bits of time spent together — that the old image had started to crumble. And in the empty space it left behind, something else was beginning to grow. Something Nat couldn’t fully see yet — and maybe that was exactly why she wanted so badly to.

“Pale Blue Eyes” by The Velvet Underground played from the record player, spinning slow and steady. Lottie Matthews lay sprawled across her bed, staring up at the ceiling, letting the music wash over her as her mind kept looping back to the conversation at the mall. The girls’ curious reactions to her hanging around Natalie replayed in her head — not that she was really thinking about how she felt about it. Not about what it meant, either. Because, truthfully, she didn’t know.

Nat was just… different. Special, in a way Lottie couldn’t quite name yet. And maybe it was too soon to draw any kind of line between them.They weren’t friends, exactly. But they weren’t strangers anymore either. They floated somewhere in between — that strange in-between where people pull closer, then drift apart, then pull close again.

No real familiarity yet. No real ties. Just circling around something invisible, until maybe, someday, the line between them grew thick enough to hold onto. That’s how Lottie thought these things worked. Or maybe it was just how she felt about Natalie. She realized she’d been orbiting around that thought longer than she meant to. Maybe she was reading too much into it — into connections, into friendships, into Natalie herself.

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed, leaving the soft sheets behind, turning off the record player, sliding the vinyl carefully back into its sleeve. She needed to get back to her routine. Focus. Maybe study for a bit, she told herself. Chemistry, maybe. Something solid, something that didn’t slip through her fingers like all these other thoughts.

She grabbed her heavy textbooks, flipping through the pages, trying to pin down the formulas, anchor every number and word into her mind — anything to push back the wandering, the lingering. All the thoughts that didn’t have answers. Thoughts about Natalie. About music, and records, and Marlboros, and films. And for a little while, at least, she forgot. Forgot, because for now, anything else could fill the space where that quiet flicker of connection had begun to catch fire.

Friday. Fucking Friday. Natalie hated that day.Not that she really hated it — she was just being an idiot, exaggerating how much she despised French class. And, well, she was late. And had a raging headache.

Staying out late drinking and trying some random drugs with a bunch of losers who had invited her out wasn’t exactly her best idea. Well… except for the part where she got completely fucked up and forgot about everything else. She got up slowly, pretending not to care about the time — even though she was cursing herself inside. Her head throbbed, but after a shower and a handful of pills, things felt a little less miserable.

Nat even tried to eat something halfway decent for breakfast, hoping it would speed up the recovery. As if some cereal could work a miracle. She also tried coffee — and okay, it helped a little, but it also made her even later. She rushed through packing her bag, throwing stuff in like she didn’t give a shit about the mess. Then she grabbed her blue denim jacket. She didn’t wear it often, but something about the black and white plaid pants she’d thrown on just kind of asked for it.

Besides, her favorite leather jacket needed a break — she had to hydrate it soon — so denim it was. Before leaving, her eyes caught on the tape lying on top of the recorder. Yeah, she had made another tape the night before, right before heading out to do something stupid.This one wasn’t just a random experiment, though.It wasn’t exactly for her either, even if it came from her. It was for Lottie.

Nat had thought about thanking her for the help somehow — and so she recorded a few songs, before Kevin showed up to ruin her selection process and drag her into that dumb night out. Now, she held the tape carefully between her fingers, squinting at the rushed handwriting on the back. It was messy but still readable — careless in appearance, but packed with way too much intention.

To: Matthews Lottie

Track 01 – She’s Not There – The Zombies

Track 02 – Femme Fatale – The Velvet  Underground & Nico

Track 03 – Girl – The Beatles

Track 04 – Time In A Bottle – Jim Croce

Track 05 – Landslide – Fleetwood Mac

Her handwriting was a wreck, but Scatorccio hadn’t been careless when it came to picking the songs. She had chosen them carefully — suspiciously carefully — like she gave way too much of a damn about what Matthews might like. And yeah, she did. She cared enough to pick something Lottie would actually listen to.That was it. That was the whole point. She just didn’t want it to be a waste.

The French class had already started a while ago. It was the first class of the day and usually lasted an hour, with the teacher showing videos on the TV about pronunciation or writing simple sentences on the blackboard so they could also reinforce the grammar. Lottie liked that class, even though she didn’t consider herself good at the subject. But, well, she was the best among the worst — because everyone else was equally bad. Jackie, Shauna, Mari, Van, Tai, and Nat… yeah, they were all terrible. And the rest of the class too. It was pretty common for one of the highest grades to be an A- or a B. And guess what? Yeah, those were Lottie’s.

But her mind was wandering elsewhere. Maybe, from one of those inconsistent corners of memory, Lottie realized that she and Nat were in the same class that period. It was never anything relevant, but now, for some reason, it was. And for some reason, she found herself sweeping the room with her eyes, searching for the platinum blonde.

There was a subtle restlessness in Lottie when she didn’t find her. Somewhere in her unconscious, she expected to see Nat there, sitting next to Van — but she wasn’t. And, well, it seemed strange that Lottie was doing this.

So she tried to focus, pushing her involuntary actions of looking to the side. She got lost in her notes until the door to the room opened and the unmistakable figure of Natalie appeared through it.

Nat was as always: she looked tired, but at the same time, as imposing and angelic as ever. She was holding one of the straps of her worn-out gray backpack over her left shoulder.

Lottie smiled faintly when the other girl’s eyes landed on her for a few seconds. Why was she relieved?

She messed with her hair, in that usual move of fixing her bangs, avoiding eye contact.

But, for a brief moment, Lottie was caught off guard. Nat was walking toward her, which was strange, because she usually sat next to Van and spent the entire class talking about some nonsense that Lottie never understood why it was so funny.

Not that it had mattered before; back then, it was just one of those things that mildly annoyed her, since the teacher would stop class to scold them. And that meant they’d have to stay a little longer until he finished the lesson. But now, now it wasn’t about the teacher. It was about having noticed Nat.

Still, the blonde girl didn’t sit beside Matthews. She just, discreetly, dropped something on her desk and walked around the room to sit next to Van. A longer path, but one that made sense to anyone who didn’t know she’d only taken it to hand Lottie Matthews a mixtape.

Natalie was at her locker after French class, grabbing a few more rolling papers to sell during the break. The guys were always after her, so to avoid drawing attention, she usually picked a specific spot and made her deliveries in strategic places, away from curious eyes. She didn’t want trouble with the school — she already had enough crap going on in her life.

And lately, there was a new irritation hanging over her head. One with a full name: Lottie Matthews. One that her brain simply wouldn’t let her forget for too long. Like, the second she wasn’t actively thinking about anything, her mind went straight back to fucking Matthews.

There was a question nagging at her — something about whether or not Lottie liked the tape. About how she had reacted to it.

Nat had watched her during class: Lottie fidgeting with the object between her fingers, focused on the writing. She couldn’t really see her expressions, hidden behind that wavy hair that only left her small nose visible — as if that stupid nose was more important than Lottie’s eyes, at least to Nat right now.

Maybe she should ask.

But fuck. That would make her seem way too interested.

So no, she didn’t ask. And she didn’t imagine Lottie would come to her, either. She just pushed the whole thing out of her mind and made it through the rest of her classes.

Lottie was nervous. Leaning elegantly against her car, she tried to look calm, but inside, her hands were sweating — though she kept insisting she was being dramatic. It was two in the afternoon, and she was waiting to see Nat after school to thank her for the mixtape. Her eyes scanned the chaos of teenagers pushing past each other toward cars or running to catch their buses.

It took a while before she spotted Nat. She was walking out with Kevin and lit a cigarette as soon as she stepped outside — Kevin lit it for her. Lottie frowned. The expression was barely visible, except for the slight crease between her brows: an involuntary reaction to a strange feeling that flared quickly in her chest. Something fleeting but striking. Something that faded… but left an impression. She sighed, crossed her arms, and waited.

Kevin wasn’t leaving with Nat this time — and that brought a subtle wave of relief to Lottie’s chest. It meant she could approach her without looking too weird.

“Hey, Nat.”

It came out shy, reserved, but graceful. Hypnotic — though her voice had a hesitant edge. She cleared her throat as Nat stopped and stepped a little closer. Hands in the pockets of her jacket, that casual posture. And of course, the mocking smile.

“Waiting for me again, Matthews?”

Sarcasm. Eyebrows slightly raised — just enough to match the tone without overdoing it. It was Nat, just Nat. But something about the comment made Lottie look away. It landed hard, filled her chest with a familiar sensation: embarrassment. Were her intentions really that obvious?

Her cheeks flushed. But she tried to keep her composure. A small, shy half-smile.

“I saw you coming out and… well, I wanted to thank you for the gift. I wasn’t expecting it.”

It was sincere. But she didn’t admit she had been waiting. She wouldn’t hand that over so easily to the other girl’s ego.

“Hmm… you’re welcome. It was a thank you for your help and also a way to avoid listening to some pop crap in your car.”

She joked. In that way Lottie could tell she was teasing — Nat didn’t really hate pop music — but it had become an inside joke between the two, this habit of putting each other into stereotypes. Something about how Nat used to see Lottie, or maybe how she still did. How she assigned those traits to Lottie but didn’t push her away the way she would with other girls she claimed were “like Matthews.” Instead, she pulled her even closer. In her weird way of showing it: tapping Lottie’s shoulder softly, gently nudging her, smiling that smile that made the brown-eyed, brown-haired girl feel warm.

“So, does that mean you’ll be getting in my car more often?”

Lottie picked up the cue. Following the usual script between them: getting annoyed, teasing, laughing, pulling each other closer through it. She kept her eyes on Nat — the girl was a little shorter, which gave Matthews a nearly perfect view of her face and expressions. Nat gave a wide, toothy grin — her teeth perfectly rounded, like a kid’s. Her lips parted. Lottie also noticed a small scar on her upper lip, which made her mouth look fuller — like she’d had some sort of cosmetic enhancement, but no. It was just natural. And, well… intense.

Natalie tilted her head, looking away while smiling — that usual body language that, for some reason, Lottie recognized. She was searching for the sharpest response possible. Nat knew it too. So she delivered:

“I don’t know… you’re the one always begging me to hang out, Matthews.”

Lottie laughed, rolled her eyes, and glanced at the ground — still smiling. She nodded quickly.

“Oh, shut up and get in the fucking car.”

Natalie hesitated for a second, stepping back to get a better look at the taller girl’s face. That stupid smile was still there — that goddamn smile that wouldn’t go away.

“Are we going somewhere now?”

She asked in her usual tone: casual, sloppy, unconcerned. So Natalie.

“I don’t know. Are we going somewhere now?”

Lottie shot back with another question, one that sounded more like an invitation. A polished sarcasm — elegant, clean, free of scorn.

“Fuck off, Matthews. Let’s go.”

Nat answered, tossing the rest of her cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot. Then, with her usual nonchalance, she walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid inside. She took off her backpack and tossed it into the backseat. Lottie got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began driving — with no idea where they were going this time.

At some point, they rolled the windows down. Lottie picked up the tape Nat had given her and, without saying a word, handed it to the blonde. Nat took it and popped it in. She skipped the first track, thinking the second one suited the calm mood better. Femme Fatale began to play — the melody, the voice, and something about the way Lottie smiled softly when she heard it.

Nat chuckled quietly, lighting a cigarette that she passed to Lottie from time to time, subtly. She watched the girl smoke with elegance while driving, while softly singing along, her wild brown hair dancing in the wind. There was a grace in Matthews — something all her own, natural — that Natalie could easily see, but hardly understand. She didn’t know where that girl’s magnetism came from.

“Alright, Aphrodite, where are we going?”

She asked with irony and affection, as always. A safe way to break the silence — something that had formed between them, delicate and effortless. It was as if they had silently agreed they’d never really know what to say, so the best way was to keep provoking each other until the words came.

“To the park, I guess.”

Natalie said nothing. Just returned to her cigarette. There was something contradictory in how they kept living the same moments, the same silences, the same gestures — but somehow, it always felt different. Captivating. Something in the repetition of it all — smoking in the car, listening to music, teasing each other — always felt new, even if the context stayed the same.

It couldn’t have been past 3 pm., but the sun wasn’t strong. In fact, it was an odd day to go to the park: kind of cold, a little overcast, darker than a typical summer afternoon. There weren’t many kids around — probably still at school. No adults walking dogs either. Just a few elderly people feeding pigeons with bits of bread. But the food carts were there as always, as if the vendors weren’t allowed to take a day off just because things were slower.

Nat kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, and Lottie carried a black canvas bag that contrasted with her blue pinstriped dress shirt. It looked like she had borrowed it from her dad — but still, fucking Lottie Matthews looked incredibly elegant in a shirt twice her size. She was chic. Period.

A few children passed them on bikes and scooters. One of them stopped in front of Lottie, a bit awestruck by the tall girl. She couldn’t have been older than seven — already missing one of her front teeth.

“You’re pretty.”

The child said, sincere, unbothered, natural. And, as if it was nothing, she ran off to join her friends. Lottie laughed, glancing at Natalie.

“Fuck you.”

She said, rolling her eyes. They walked together toward a hot dog cart, almost stepping into each other’s space — Nat’s jacket shoulder brushing against Lottie’s shirt. Sometimes they bumped. Sometimes they drifted apart. Then back again. Until they reached the cart. They got a ridiculously big hot dog, overloaded with sauce. Lottie had no idea how to eat it — and, well, apparently, her etiquette classes didn’t apply here, because the corners of her mouth were covered in mustard and ketchup.

Natalie laughed, mocking her, saying she should’ve brought a camera to capture the moment. Claiming she had no idea when she’d ever see fucking Queen Lottie Matthews messily eating like a mere mortal again. It was a light moment — felt automatic. They weren’t forcing anything. Things just flowed, drifting toward something neither of them really understood.

After eating, they sat on the grass, leaning against a tree, enjoying the quiet of the park — and each other’s company.

“So… you looked pretty tired when you got to class. Something wrong with the shop?”

Nat sighed, a little weary and a little surprised that Lottie had picked up on something so small. She shifted, making the kind of movement that said she was about to lie down — like it was nothing. Lottie stretched out her legs in a barely noticeable, subtle invitation for Natalie to rest her head there. No hesitation. She just did it.

Yes, it was something new. Strange. Something that felt like a leap in their connection. Maybe now they were closer to being actual friends. At least that’s what Lottie thought about the ease of how things were unfolding between them. But it was still undefined. Just a special moment. One where the touching stopped being playful nudges and turned into Lottie’s fingers brushing gently through Nat’s blonde hair.

It wasn’t a big deal. Just one of those automatic gestures you make when someone seems vulnerable enough to be in that position — and you don’t know what else to do with it. But Lottie felt something in her cheeks. Something she let pass.

“Some people can’t afford to take sabbaticals at the mall, Matthews.”

Scatorccio said, relaxing under the touch, eyes closing. And even with the lazy tone, the sarcasm was still there — it never really left her.

“Well… I’ll help you out at the shop on Sunday.”

Lottie said, fingers running through Natalie’s hair again. She tried not to focus too much on her face, or on how the girl reacted to her touch.

“Actually, I was going to tell you I don’t open on Sundays. But you looked starving for something to do that day.”

Nat chuckled, unbothered. Eyes closed, but not entirely relaxed — like someone who wasn’t fully trusting the moment. Just as hesitant as Lottie’s hand on her head. Testing the trust. Testing the loss of control. Wading into the lukewarm waters of that comfort.

Lottie took a moment to reply, so Nat continued:

“We’ll still see each other on Sunday. Don’t worry, Matthews. I won’t let you go through withdrawals.”

Lottie didn’t respond right away. For a moment, there was only silence. Nat almost wanted to open her eyes to figure out what Matthews was thinking.

“Shauna and Jackie invited me to a cabin trip. Something about nature, lakes, and mountains…”

She paused. Bit her lower lip. The stroking in Natalie’s hair stopped for a moment and… then returned, along with Lottie’s voice, casual:

“Do you want to come with us?”

Natalie rubbed her face and shifted — not to lean into Lottie’s touch, but to find a more comfortable position. Lottie’s hand remained in her hair, unmoving — like it wasn’t really about Natalie anymore, just something her body had decided on its own. Still, she knew Nat was waiting for a response.

“Yeah. Sounds like a dream. A social experiment with a bunch of rich girls in a cabin.”

Nat laughed, soft and lazy, letting herself drift. Lottie just accepted the answer, her fingers moving again through the platinum strands, now without thinking. The silence returned between them, natural. No one said anything else.

Nat kept her eyes closed. Lottie let go of the hair to open a book that was always in her bag but had never really been read. Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf. She was never sure why it was always there. Maybe just a symbol — that someday she’d have the time — in a park, on a bench, in a moment of peace — to finally open it. And now, with Natalie silent, maybe asleep, and no words needed between them, she finally did.

Maybe the book had been waiting for this exact moment. She devoured the pages as the minutes passed and the little sunlight left began to fade… Her eyes wandered across page 34. She felt the weight of Nat’s head resting calmly on her thighs. She was truly tired — you could tell she had fallen asleep.

“She could not resist sometimes the charm of a woman — not a girl, of a woman confessing some adventure, some slight lapse…”

A strange feeling stirred in her chest. Something she couldn’t name, but it passed quickly, forgotten between the lines. Lottie realized she had to stop reading when a drop of water hit the yellowed paper. It was going to rain, and she needed to wake Nat. She moved gently, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder and shaking it carefully.

“Nat… Nat, it’s raining.”

She said softly, not wanting to yell. Nat stirred, rubbing her eyes. Lottie quickly put the book back in her bag, and Nat sat up abruptly. The rain started within seconds, and they both ran to the car, trying not to get too wet. Only a few drops hit them — it wasn’t heavy — but enough to make them laugh when they got inside.

Nat sighed, threw her head back and reclined her seat a little. Lottie didn’t say anything. She just placed her bag in the back seat, buckled up, and started the engine. Let Natalie sleep on the drive. Enjoyed the silence, the rain, the soft music playing in the car. Occasionally glanced at Nat, who looked peaceful. She was definitely tired, but not so much that she didn’t notice when Lottie pulled up to her house, half an hour later.

She adjusted the seat and grabbed her bag in silence. Then looked at the girl.

“Any comments about me sleeping in your lap and I’m leaking all your dirty little secrets, Matthews.”

It was a goodbye laced with sarcasm — their usual tone. Lottie laughed, nodding, even though the threat wasn’t real. Nat didn’t actually know any of her dirty secrets.

“You know… I’ll pick you up at 10:00 on Sunday.”

She said casually, just as Nat was getting ready to step out. The girl opened the door and, as a goodbye, simply said:

“Okay… Mrs. Dalloway.”

Maybe Natalie hadn’t been sleeping so deeply after all

Chapter Text

On Sunday, Shauna parked the car in front of Nat’s house and shop. Lottie sat in the backseat, while Jackie had taken the passenger seat — of course, that spot basically belonged to her anyway. Laura Lee sat by the window, quietly observing the place. She was holding a flight manual, a gift from her grandfather.

Lottie sat behind Jackie, giving Shauna directions — she didn’t quite remember the way. A few magazines were scattered on the dashboard next to Jackie, along with an open pack of cookies. It wasn’t going to be a long trip — just about two and a half hours away, traffic permitting.

When they arrived, Nat was already waiting. The shop was closed, and she was leaning against the wall, a half-burnt cigarette dangling between her fingers, looking as effortlessly careless as always. The moment the car pulled up, she dropped the cigarette to the ground and walked over. Lottie scooted over almost instinctively, ending up in the middle, though she didn’t seem to mind much. Nat slipped into the car like she belonged there, tossed out a casual “hey, guys,” and settled right in. She kept her backpack on her lap, but Lottie grabbed it soon after and stuffed it in with the rest of the bags and shopping totes — the girls had definitely overpacked.

“I didn’t know you had a record store, Nat. That’s fucking cool.”

Jackie started the conversation as she casually flipped the mirror toward herself and reapplied her lip gloss. Shauna glanced at her for a few seconds, and Lottie caught that — but quickly looked away before she could spiral into unnecessary thoughts about the two of them, without really knowing why.

“Yeah… when Lottie mentioned you had a shop and that she was helping you out, it was like: how did we not know about this?”

Laura Lee chimed in. She was actually the only one who’d heard it directly from Lottie, since Jackie and Shauna had just dropped her off at the door once after practice — when Lottie made her come out with them after a minor injury on the field a few weeks back.

Natalie smiled — no words, just that familiar half-smirk. Then she turned to Lottie, and the smirk turned into something more familiar. Lottie knew what was coming.

“So… been talking about me to your friends, Matthews?”

There it was again: the teasing, the edge that never really let their connection die out. Lottie looked away, and Shauna shot her a quick glance in the rearview mirror. Not intentional — but still, a look that Lottie didn’t quite recognize until now.

Nat adjusted the Walkman around her neck, and Lottie caught that motion for a second before realizing she needed to answer the jab.

“Yeah… I told them you’re kind of a jerk.”

She said it with her usual smile — too cultured, too charming to sound like a real insult, but still rougher than her typical polished Matthews delivery. So yeah, it was sarcasm.

Nat smiled, eyes dropping to her lap.

“Do any of you even listen to music? This car feels like a funeral.”

She said it in her usual way — not exactly rude, just blunt, a little sharp. Shauna laughed and exchanged a quick look with Jackie. Lottie only shrugged, and Laura Lee went back to her book like none of it mattered — just being sweet Laura Lee, the way she always was: near Lottie like in the old days, not asking for anything more. Jackie turned on the radio.

“Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa came on. It was one of those songs they used to blast in the locker room before games, singing and dancing like teenagers who needed anything to shake off the nerves. No one really knew who started singing in the car, but soon enough, they were all in. Nat was fired up, singing every single word without missing a beat, and Lottie was right there with her, dancing with her hands in the cramped space of the car. Shauna laughed at the two of them; Jackie followed along, rapping in sync with the beat; even Laura Lee joined in — more reserved, but clearly having fun too.

At some point, Lottie pulled her camera out of her bag — a Pentax K1000 with 35mm film. She chose color film to capture the moment. She loaded it carefully and took a test shot of Jackie and Shauna. In the photo, you’d see the car’s dashboard, Shauna’s red flannel, and Jackie’s striped top. Then Lottie turned toward Nat, leaning back a little and slightly invading Laura Lee’s space just enough to get the perfect frame.

Nat let out a short laugh, maybe a little shy, followed by a disbelieving “oh, fuck.” She smiled — and behind the viewfinder, Lottie noticed the dimples in her cheeks. It was sweet. And Lottie smiled back, without even realizing it.

It was a quick feeling. Almost as quick as Nat’s reaction — flipping off the camera.

They kept going like that: listening to music, singing along, eating the cookies Jackie had brought in the car. Lottie kept taking pictures — of the windows, the landscapes, the girls. She photographed Laura Lee, Shauna driving with a huge smile, Jackie staring out the window with her hair flying behind her.

And mostly, she photographed Natalie. Most of the time, it was Natalie. Not that she noticed she was doing it. It was instinctive — like any gesture Nat made was worth capturing.

Then Nat grabbed Lottie’s camera and started documenting the car ride from her own perspective. She aimed it at Lottie, who just smiled sweetly — photogenic without even trying. Nat clicked the shutter and handed the camera back.

But something caught her eye: Lottie’s bangs shifted slightly, revealing a barely-there scar, like it had been hidden there forever.

“So that’s why you have bangs?”

She teased. The girls in the car immediately burst out laughing, as if that scar was the start of a well-known story. Laura Lee jumped in:

“That story is actually really funny.”

Jackie nodded, and Shauna kept a goofy smile on her face — eyes on the road, but clearly listening.

Lottie shrank back into her seat, silently begging them not to tell it. But it was too late. Nat was curious, and Laura Lee closed her book, ready to spill. Lottie just covered her face with her hands, repeating “no” over and over — shy, mortified, but fully aware it wouldn’t help.

“Lottie and I were playing in the playground at her house when we were kids. Her dad was in a meeting with the Steves family, and their son, Josh, came to play with us.”

Natalie was listening closely. Lottie had a private playground? Jesus Christ. This girl must’ve had the happiest damn childhood.

“Josh started saying that someday he and Lottie were going to get married. And she just broke down crying, saying no. He chased her around yelling ‘yes we are!’ and she tried to run up the slide ramp… and hit her head.”

Nat laughed. Okay… that was funny. Little Lottie, terrified of marriage — and from the way Laura Lee told it, she’d really been freaking out.

Laura Lee kept going, explaining that every time the boy repeated they were going to get married, Lottie cried harder. Her mom wiped the blood off her forehead and asked, “Are you crying because he said you two are getting married?” And Lottie said yes. Then Josh would say it again. And she’d start crying even more — not from the pain, but from the sheer fear of getting married.

A kid completely horrified by the idea of marriage, not even caring that her forehead was soaked in blood.

“And yeah… Lottie’s had bangs ever since.”

It was a subtle detail, but Nat caught it. Lottie had always worn bangs, like a trademark or something. Well, it suited her anyway, and Nat let go of the teasing about Lottie only wearing them out of vanity—to hide the scar. Which, deep down, Natalie kind of believed. It just felt typical of girls like her.

But again, with just one small detail, Lottie Matthews swerved. She went against what Nat thought she knew about her. Even if it was the simplest thing—even if it was only symbolic.

A scar. Lottie fucking Matthews didn’t hide it out of vanity.

Nat glanced at the girl curled up beside her in the car. She seemed smaller because of it, even though she was tall as hell. Her cheeks were red—something Nat noticed easily—and, as a small act of triumph, maybe just to mess with her, Natalie stole the beret Matthews was wearing. Fancy.

It matched her height. It made Lottie look like one of those French models—elegant, sophisticated, with that kind of effortless style. A quiet kind of feminine power that could throw anyone off.

“Don’t be like that, Matthews. I’d be terrified too if I found out I had to get married at that age.”

Two hours later, they arrived at the lake house — and holy shit, it was a serious house. Natalie had been wrong to think it would be simpler than the ones back in the city. Yeah, she was way off.

The place was huge, surrounded by tall trees. Down below, there was a wide lake with a small dock, where a not-at-all-basic boat was tied to one of the posts.

Everything was quiet. All she could hear were a few animals she couldn’t quite place, and the wind rustling through the trees.

Outside, some chairs were arranged in a circle of stones — probably for a campfire at night. There was also a wooden table near the water and grass everywhere.

The house had a long porch and big glass panels facing out. Still, it didn’t feel overly modern or out of place. It was rustic. Built with wood to match the surroundings.

The girls rushed inside, barely fazed by how beautiful everything was — they probably had seen places like this a million times.

Lottie walked up to Nat and, before she could react, snapped a picture. Natalie only heard the sound of the film advancing in the camera. She smirked.

Lottie clicked again, then let go of the camera hanging around her neck. She grabbed Nat’s wrist — almost instinctively — and pulled her inside.

The inside of the house was even cooler — a mix of rustic and modern. From the living room, which was massive, you could see the whole lake through the open glass panels.

A floating staircase led to the bedrooms. The girls ran up.

Shauna and Jackie immediately claimed the biggest one for themselves, and Nat, Lottie, and Laura Lee took the slightly smaller one. A bit unfair, considering there were three of them, but Natalie didn’t complain — mostly because that bedroom alone was bigger than her entire damn house.

Besides, Lottie said they’d probably end up crashing in the living room anyway, after trying to sit through some dumb horror movie.

They dropped off their stuff and headed back downstairs, each already thinking about what they wanted to do.

Shauna suggested they go to the lake, take the boat out, and swim in the deeper part.

Jackie agreed, suggesting they set up a picnic by the shore while playing music or something like that.

She was even generous enough to include Natalie — said she could pick some tracks and be in charge of the playlist.

Laura Lee suggested lighting a fire later and roasting marshmallows.

Everyone was on board, so they started gathering what they needed before heading to the lake.

Lottie came up to Nat.

“Wanna smoke outside and see if we can spot some squirrels?”

She asked casually, now that all the other girls had disappeared from the living room.

“Oh fuck yes. I’ve been dying to sneak off and light one.”

They both walked in a comfortable silence. Nat wandered freely, stepping into the woods without a second thought. Lottie simply followed, occasionally glancing at Natalie—not in an obvious way, just quietly noticing the girl while trying not to trip over the branches. She pulled out her camera and took a picture of the landscape. She hoped it would turn out well once developed. Maybe she’d add it to her memory book. She always did that. Every year. It was her way of recording her own moments.

Lottie also liked to write little notes on the back of printed photos—something about the day or the feelings the image captured. She kept the film rolls in a special box, along with some old camcorder tapes.

She sat down on a tree trunk, while Nat remained standing, lighting a cigarette. After the first drag, she looked up, watching the leaves sway above. Lottie took a photo of the sky filtered through the canopy, then one of Nat as she bent down to pick up a leaf from the ground. It was different—something in its color and shape. Typical autumn leaf, but with tiny spots that looked like a constellation.

Lottie captured that moment, not just in her mind, as she had so many times before—this time, on film. She hoped the photo would reveal it all: Nat crouched down, her coat draped over her shoulders, sleeves rolled slightly past her wrists, a thin watch on her left wrist. Black tights creating contrast, but matching perfectly with her boots.

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

Nat broke the silence, referring to Lottie’s constant photographing.

She stepped closer, sat beside Lottie, and took another drag before handing her the leaf. A simple “here,” said with that familiar smile.

Lottie took the leaf, thanked her, looked at it for a second, and slipped it into her coat pocket.

“I’m gonna press it and glue it into a book.”

She said casually. Natalie nodded, accepting that this was a worthy fate for the leaf. Then, without a word, she passed her cigarette to Lottie. As the girl took it, Nat held out her hand for the camera.

“Gimme that. Now it’s my turn to make you a goddamn model, Matthews.”

Natalie just grabbed Lottie’s camera, making a fair trade for the cigarette that had just burned down between the girl’s fingers and on her lips between drags. Nat took a few pictures of Lottie when she seemed most distracted, looking for a sneaky squirrel between the trees.

They stayed silent when one finally appeared — it was relatively small and had its cheeks stuffed with some fruit they couldn’t identify. Natalie waited a moment, then snapped a photo.

She hated not knowing how the picture had turned out yet, but she could bet the squirrel was far as hell and would probably blend into the trees once the film was developed.

Lottie tossed the rest of the cigarette and the two walked back to the house before the other girls came looking for them. They headed up to the bedroom to change. Laura Lee was already in the living room, flipping through some old dictionaries on a wooden shelf in the corner. She didn’t seem to care where Lottie and Nat had gone, just watched them as they climbed the stairs.

In the room, Nat went straight to her backpack. She started taking off her boots, then her coat. Lottie was digging through her suitcase but paused for a few seconds when she looked at Natalie, who was casually pulling off her shirt like it was nothing. Lottie felt her cheeks burn and looked away, reaching for the first thing she could find — not even realizing it was the damn blue jacket with yellow stripes on the cuffs. That thing was going to stick to her when she came out of the lake wet, she was sure. But all she needed to do now was not look too long at Nat’s red bra. Not that she had noticed it was red. But somehow, she had registered that. So she quickly went to the bathroom to change.

They went together to the lake, where the girls were sitting by the shore. Jackie and Shauna were lying on a picnic blanket spread out on the grass. A tape radio with three batteries played softly beside them, and they were apparently already eating the snacks they had brought. Laura Lee was sitting on one of the chairs near where they planned to light the fire, reading one of the old dictionaries she had found and deemed vaguely interesting. Lottie asked if she wasn’t going to join them, and Laura said she would in a few minutes. The two just kept walking.

Lottie had the camera hanging around her neck; something about capturing the whole trip hung over her like a silent obligation. Before she and Nat sat down, Lottie snapped a photo of Jackie and Shauna. The tall green grass stood out behind them — at least, that’s what Lottie hoped the film had captured.

Nat sat down first, and Lottie quickly settled beside her, facing the girls. They naturally started sharing the food, and Lottie reminded them to save some for Laura Lee.

“So… I only brought one tape,”

said Nat, drawing attention to her earlier idea of showing the others some music.

“I bet you’ve got something new to show us,”

Jackie commented, resting a hand on Shauna’s bent knees.

Lottie looked at Nat with a half-smile, as if slowly matching the rhythm of sarcasm.

“No… Natalie only listens to stuff that’s old as hell or super obscure. You know, she’s way too cool for anything pop.”

She teased, earning a light tap on the shoulder from Natalie. Matthews smiled at her, watching the girl shift her focus to inserting the tape into the radio. She only looked away when she felt that burning stare from Shauna on her back again. She had no idea what Shipman was looking for in those moments. It was like she wanted to see through her, and Lottie had no clue what exactly.

“Yeah, Matthews. I’m the one listening to 60s folk bands.”

The sarcasm was fired right back. Nat was never unarmed, in any situation. And yes, it was Lottie who liked guitars, pianos, and 60s music.

Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane began to play.

Natalie adjusted her legs carefully, trying not to take up too much space — which was already short, so short that Lottie’s knees touched hers.

The girls chatted, laughed at dumb jokes, and shared tastes and worries about tests and games. Laura Lee joined them a bit later, and Lottie took some photos of the moment. In one of them, in particular, Shauna grabbed her camera and pointed it at Lottie and Nat. The two looked a little awkward as Shauna said something like “smile” — one of those quick impulses from someone who wants a good photo.

Lottie pulled Nat by the neck, her arms wrapping around her casually, while the girl just placed a hand on her arm. Lottie took it further, pretending to kiss her on the cheek — more precisely near her ear, beneath the blonde hair. Nat simply smiled, showing her teeth.

Something about Nat’s dimple and Lottie’s sunglasses perched on her head made the moment feel ordinary. But neither of them really knew what to think about it.

Shauna took the photo, and everything returned to normal: small talk, laughter over something silly.

Later, they actually did go on a boat ride. Jackie knew how to drive it — her dad had taught her — which became a running joke among the group, since apparently she could pilot a boat but didn’t know how to drive a car.

They didn’t go very far, just far enough to be in the middle of the lake and enjoy the view. Lottie wore a cap on her head, sitting on the edge of the boat, when Laura Lee snapped a picture of her. Then Lottie jumped into the water. The girls swam, dove in, splashed each other, and eventually went back home to shower before heading downstairs to figure out dinner.

They made something simple, in the middle of jokes and stupid flour fights. They cooked fresh pasta with tomato and basil sauce. Shauna was in charge of the grilled chicken, and Jackie took it upon herself to steal an expensive bottle of wine from the cellar to go with the meal. The taste didn’t really impress Nat — she’d tried plenty of drinks before, though never one this expensive. Something about rich people and wine connoisseurs always bragging about having a bottle worth the price of a house in their collection. But still… it was sweet, smooth, and pretty fucking good.

After the girls gathered around for a card game, Nat walked over to Laura Lee, who seemed a bit distant, focused on a word search — the kind people bring to kill time on long car rides. She just approached quietly, picked up a pen, and started helping Laura Lee look for the word “Honesty,” which the girl claimed was impossible to find.

After dinner, they headed outside, gathered some sticks to start a small fire in the pile of rocks, and sat around it. Lottie and Laura Lee were sharing a single chair, Nat sat across from them, smoking without much concern, and Shauna and Jackie shared another seat — those two, apparently, had been born attached at the hip. Unlike Lottie and Laura Lee, who sat side by side in the cramped space, Jackie was settled between Shauna’s thighs, while Shauna rested her chin on Jackie’s shoulder and hugged her from behind. Nat watched, amused.

“Are you two fucking or something?”

She teased. Not the same way she teased Lottie. With Lottie, her tone was different — softer, like she cared about not coming on too harsh. This time, it was just playful. A little mocking. Subtly different.

Jackie’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head. Shauna just smiled, a dark little smirk.

“Why? Are you homophobic or something?”

It wasn’t an answer. Not a confirmation either. Just something thrown into the air, turning the moment into a sarcastic spar. Not like the ones between Nat and Lottie — those always seemed to hold a quiet attempt to get closer. This was something else.

Lottie shifted in her seat, uncomfortable, turning her gaze to Laura Lee and saying they could start putting the marshmallows on sticks.

Natalie gave a crooked little laugh, not unkind. It was light, but somehow weird.

“No… I was just interested in being the third one.”

She joked, laying the sarcasm on thick, which made Shauna laugh but put Lottie on alert. She was quick to steer everyone’s attention to the marshmallows, and things settled back into a more normal rhythm. Later, Shauna still denied anything going on between her and Jackie — in that familiar, automatic way they always did.

Back inside, they made popcorn and picked out a few tapes to watch. They were torn between a bunch of ‘80s horror movies, but ended up choosing Child’s Play, from 1988.

Natalie was smiling at the screen, wearing a strangely sweet expression during the scene where little Andy goes to wake up his mom. Not exactly what you’d expect during a classic ‘80s horror flick — but Lottie noticed. She nudged Nat’s arm gently with her elbow, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you seriously finding this cute?”

She teased. She hadn’t pegged Natalie as the kind of person who liked anything involving kids, especially scenes like that.

“Shut up. He’s annoyingly cute.”

Nat whispered back, giving Lottie a light tap on the leg — the same leg that was lazily draped across her lap. Neither of them really knew when that kind of physical closeness had started… maybe something about sharing the couch, or just wanting to be as comfy and close to the popcorn as possible.

“Natalie, this is a horror movie. Don’t find that scene so sweet.”

Lottie teased again. There was something a little morbid about Natalie smiling during a slasher flick — but also kind of adorable, once you noticed which scene, exactly, had made her smile. It gave her away. Maybe she liked kids.

“Oh shit, shut up,”

Shauna groaned. She was lying on a mattress on the floor, suspiciously cuddled up with Jackie. Natalie could swear they were fucking or something.

They went back to watching… until Laura Lee gasped, horrified, at one of the scenes.

The movie went by quickly, and it was funny to watch Lottie get startled every now and then — not exactly by the murders, but by the jump scares in the scenes. She gave little jumps, almost imperceptible. Jackie was more dramatic, kind of a scaredy-cat. Shauna seemed to enjoy the movie, though she didn’t react much, amused more by her friend’s fear than the film itself.

Laura Lee, as usual, had the funniest reactions: she made faces and started whispering prayers, as if the doll might show up in the living room at any moment. Nat would have to admit she got startled a few times too, thanks to how well the suspense was built — and she liked the possessed doll’s dark humor, along with how bizarre the whole thing felt.

They chatted a bit before going to sleep, about how well they had done the doll effects or about the sequels. In the end, they fell asleep right there, scattered around the living room: Jackie and Shauna on the mattress, ridiculously wrapped around each other; Laura Lee on another mattress; and Nat and Lottie sharing the couch. It wasn’t that uncomfortable — at least not while they were sleeping. The plan had been to grab a mattress from the bedroom, but they had just dozed off there: Lottie lying on her stomach, her head resting on her arms, and Nat somehow ending up asleep on top of her.

It wasn’t as intimate as Jackie and Shauna, who did that like it was second nature, pure comfort. It was something more accidental, a stage of closeness still in the making. While Shauna clung tightly to Jackie, Natalie was just kind of crushing Lottie with her weight — like a human blanket, which Matthews seemed strangely comfortable with. Still, it was close enough for Nat to catch Lottie’s scent: something floral, just as she imagined — warm, sweet, but with a citrusy note. A strange combination, and at the same time, a really good one. Unforgettable.

Chapter Text

After that Sunday, things just went back to normal. Two girls in two different worlds, orbiting and colliding for some unknown reason. In the following weeks, they both dove into their own routines.

Lottie was consumed by her responsibilities as a Matthews — school duties and her commitment to the team. They played in the round of 16, won, and advanced to the quarterfinals. Each game was a small victory, a small celebration.

She and Nat crossed paths in the school hallways. Sometimes they talked during breaks in practice, sitting on the bleachers while hydrating and catching their breath after a few laps around campus for conditioning or something like that. The conversations, now, weren’t so deep — both were too focused on their tasks. They barely had time for one-on-one moments. Most of the time they saw each other was with the team, and when they managed to exchange a few words quickly, it was between classes. Something like:

“How are you?”

“Tired as hell.”

“Yeah, same. I barely have time to breathe.”

And then they’d head off in separate directions for the next class.

Natalie was buried in her own world, juggling her final exams, the shop, managing sales, and keeping up with practice. She hardly went out to parties. Most of the time, it was just her, Kevin, Van — and sometimes Taï, mostly tagging along with Van — smoking outside the shop when they dropped by or used studying as an excuse just to get cheaper weed.

But even though she was busy with all those responsibilities, Lottie Matthews hadn’t been completely erased from Nat’s mind. She lingered there, persistent — but only when Natalie had some time to think. When there was nothing urgently demanding her attention for a brief moment, her mind would casually drift to Matthews.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a loud, dramatic way either. Sometimes, Nat didn’t even notice.

During study breaks at the shop, she’d doodle in the corners of her notebooks. And for some reason, there she was — sketching Matthews. The black pen strokes were rough, kind of messy — but somehow, there was a certain gentleness in the drawing. Maybe because of who she was drawing.

In the corner of the page, like she did with other sketches, Nat wrote a few words. It was a habit of hers, like a sketchbook from an author shaping a character. Then, without thinking too much, almost automatically, the words appeared on the paper:

Lottie Matthews:

Mysterious

Rich

Tall

…

Pretty.

Without giving it too much thought, she closed the notebook and set it aside. A customer had just walked into the shop. Nat went to help them — and Lottie Matthews was pushed back into the far corners of her mind.

In the little free time she had, Lottie dedicated herself to reading. It was a habit she liked to maintain — as if she could immerse herself in those pages and, for a moment, live in a world where she made the rules.

Lately, she was obsessed with Jean Rhys. There was something about exile and feminine loneliness that always pulled her in somehow. It was as if she moved through those stories because, like those women, Lottie also felt like nothing ever happened — that nothing ever really happened — but there was always the possibility that something could.

Her eyes started to feel heavy, aching a little from the dim light of the bedside lamp, forcing her to squint to keep reading. She marked the page with the sheet Nat had given her. She tried to preserve it as best as she could, so it wouldn’t tear, so it would last. Either way, she had no intention of sticking it inside just any book to be forgotten.

Now, Lottie had traded the habit of folding the corners of pages for that little sheet. It seemed fair. And… functional.

She closed the book carefully, placed it on the nightstand, turned off the light and went to sleep. The next day would be long — but she wasn’t exactly stressed about it. She just longed for a bit of time to herself.

The next morning, Lottie got up at her usual time and went about her routine like she did every day. But there was something different in her house, and she noticed it the moment she came down the stairs. The table was set as always, her parents sitting in their usual chairs, but this time they looked incredibly happy for some reason Lottie didn’t know — though she could guess it probably had something to do with business.

“Why are you guys so… bouncy?”

she asked, curious, but with a hint of unease.

Mr. Matthews turned to her with a wide smile. He stood up, cupped his daughter’s face with both hands, and kissed her forehead. It was strange. Lottie just stood there, processing it. It wasn’t like she had never received affection from her father, but it wasn’t exactly common during breakfast.

“Daddy just closed a deal with one of the biggest investors in the country,”

he announced, patting her back before sitting down again and inviting her to do the same.

Lottie could see how happy he was, so to please him, she kept a smile on her face and tried to ask the kinds of questions she knew he’d want to hear — the ones that would keep the excitement going.

And, in fact, he seemed so thrilled that he started asking about her life more casually, going beyond the usual topics like therapy, grades, formal dinners. He asked how school was going, how the trip with her friends had been on Sunday, how the team was doing. Lottie answered, surprised, but did her best to hide it, trying to seem natural.

And her father… her father was so happy and so far from his usual persona that he got carried away: he called the most expensive restaurant in town and booked the entire place for a team dinner the following week.

And, oh God. Lottie was screwed.

Now she had to make a guest list for the reservation and probably send out invitations way too fancy for her teammates. How was she going to explain that her dad had gotten overly excited?

Not that she was ashamed of being rich — it would be dumb to feel ashamed of that. She just didn’t exactly know how to handle it. But she’d have some time to figure it out. After all, by then, exam week would already be over.

It was exam week. Nat was kind of nervous about everything, even though she knew she had studied enough to get decent grades. Because of the anxiety, she was smoking twice as much — as if channeling the stress into drags would actually help and not just make her even more anxious about lighting another one, just to feel the relief of the first inhale again. That one always hit the best.

Instead of tossing the cigarette as she reached the school gates like she usually did, she lingered. She waited until it burned all the way down, until there was nothing left but the filter. Then she threw it away and walked into school — as confident and unfazed as ever. Or maybe just trying to hide how much she actually cared.

She needed to grab a few books from her locker for the math exam. By some miracle, the teacher was going to let them use notes. Her head was buzzing with worry. Nat had always been confident, but there was a fragility tucked behind that unbreakable attitude. She was afraid of things she couldn’t predict.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she barely noticed Lottie Matthews approaching. She flinched a little when the girl said a simple “hey” in that same soft, polished voice as always.

“Jesus, Matthews! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

She reacted on instinct, startled, but then let out a slippery laugh, pushing the worry to the back of her mind.

Lottie Matthews looked the same as ever — composed, elegant, with that calm, magnetic queen-like aura. Was she not stressed?

“Sorry… I just wanted to see how you’re doing,”

Lottie said in a low tone, whispered, almost on the edge of her voice. Like she was trying not to scare Natalie again. Or maybe she just didn’t want to catch her off guard with the question.

Nat thought for a second before answering. Her instinct was to say she was nervous. But she questioned the comfort she felt with that girl. Because, for some reason, she felt like she could talk to Lottie the way she talked to Kevin or Van — in a superficial, ironic, distracted way. But the comfort with Lottie was different. It left a strange feeling in her stomach. Like it was illogical or suspicious to feel so at ease with someone she had truly known for barely over a month.

“Wanna go light one up under the bleachers? I need a smoke.”

Lottie seemed surprised by the invite — maybe because she hadn’t expected Nat to want to sneak off with less than twenty minutes before the exam. She took a few seconds to reply, brushing her bangs with that same nervous habit Natalie had already noticed a dozen times. She was thinking it over. Natalie could tell. Then came:

“Sure.”

She said it with a gentle smile curling at the corners of her lips. Natalie shut her locker and walked with Lottie toward the field.

As they walked side by side, Lottie broke the nervous silence hanging between them. Not that they were exactly in silence — they’d shared quiet moments before — but there was something about this particular context that pushed them toward the edge of anxiety.

“You know… you can just call me Lottie.”

She said it sweetly, casually — suspiciously pleasant, in a way that maybe it shouldn’t have been.

Nat let out a sarcastic smile, a spark of warmth lighting up her face.

“I like your rich girl name.”

It was sharp, teasing, pointed — but there was warmth in it too, a softness hidden in the mockery. For a moment, the nerves seemed to melt away. It was just Lottie and Nat, on another ordinary day.

“I prefer it when you call me Lottie.”

It wasn’t rude, or blunt. Just an honest observation. Almost a disguised confession.

“Alright, LOOOWWTTIE.”

Nat exaggerated the tone, dragging out the name theatrically and playfully. Lottie rolled her eyes but looked down with a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe she liked it.

As soon as they reached the bleachers, Nat dropped her backpack in the corner and lit a cigarette almost immediately. She was used to being there, didn’t seem to analyze the place much—unlike Lottie. The girl looked around, a little surprised, though reserved.

“This place is cleaner than I imagined.”

Natalie let out a short laugh, drawing the smoke into her lungs and then removing the cigarette from her mouth, letting it hang casually between her fingers.

“Why? You thought it’d be gross, like in the movies?”

She asked with a touch of humor, though not entirely judgmental. It wasn’t like the place was ridiculously clean—there were a few cheap beer cans lying around, and in one very specific, darker corner, some used condoms. But it didn’t smell like shit or anything. There was a weirdly clean part to it too. Nat leaned back against the rough concrete wall behind them, and Lottie followed suit. They were close, shoulder to shoulder. Lottie stole Nat’s cigarette and took a drag.

“So… why are you nervous?”

It was subtle, casual, concerned. It caught Natalie off guard, left her confused. How did Lottie know she was anxious? Was it that obvious? Was she just more readable than fucking Lottie Matthews, or was she just that predictable?

“I didn’t say I was nervous. Have you been stalking me?”

A playful attempt to rebuild her wall. Lottie only smiled calmly—for some reason, it was comforting. Why the hell did she have that holy aura? Was she some kind of mysterious entity? Jesus Christ.

“It’s not that obvious, but… you’ve never looked this desperate to smoke, so I figured something was up.”

She stayed calm, soothing, her voice as gentle, polished, and elegant as always—too elegant for an ordinary teenager. Lottie Matthews had an observant nature. Natalie picked up on that.

“Just a bit stressed about exams. Nothing major.”

She shrugged, taking the cigarette back. Lottie smiled, involuntarily leaning even closer—closer than they already were. It was subtle, but Natalie caught it, and accepted it as comfort when the girl rested her head on her shoulder. A moment of warmth. Maybe it meant something. Maybe now they could call this thing a friendship. Lottie, automatically, just laid her head on top of Nat’s, and they stayed like that for long minutes—until they suddenly had to rush to class.

Nat grabbed Lottie’s wrist as they walked in, but they pulled apart almost instantly—partly from the mild panic of being late, partly from the awkwardness of Natalie’s hand on her wrist. It hadn’t been a strong grip, but it burned in a way Lottie couldn’t quite comprehend, because it didn’t hurt—if anything, it made her heart race and her cheeks ache. She sat near Laura Lee.

“Where were you two?”

The girl whispered, slightly concerned—they’d nearly missed the chance to take the test.

“Nowhere special. We just… lost track of time talking.”

She shrugged, pulling her materials out of her bag and pushing the moment to the back of her mind.

That’s how exam week went. No practice, no games—everything was postponed until the following week, when they’d be under real pressure for the finals that would determine whether they made it to Nationals. The contact between the two girls was still a bit scarce because of it, but somehow, as if they were drawn together like magnets, they kept crossing paths. They’d talk in the hallways here and there and, well… once, Lottie even ditched her lunch with Jackie, Shauna, and Laura Lee to eat with Natalie at the top of the school bleachers, watching the boys suck at soccer or attempt baseball in their free time. They silently enjoyed making fun of them—because, clearly, they were better.

Now that she had time, Lottie could dedicate herself to her own pleasures before being pushed back into more tests—this time, on the field.

That week, she finalized the guest list. Basically, the whole team. She handed out the invitations to everyone—except one person: Natalie. Lottie didn’t know how to do it—and she didn’t know why she was nervous about it either. Maybe because, for Nat, she was preparing something a little more meaningful.

The day before, she’d gone to her usual bookstore. And even though she loved women’s literature, this time she picked up a book by Hermann Hesse. The old lady who owned the store insisted she’d love Steppenwolf. So she took it. She also dropped off the film rolls to get developed—the ones from the trip. She couldn’t forget that.

And when she got home, about to start the new book, something clicked in her head. She grabbed the photos. Chose the ones she’d taken of Nat—just a few, since she saved some for her memory journal. She picked them carefully: the one with the squirrel, the one of Natalie in the car, in the forest… and finally, the one Shauna had taken of the two of them hugging. Lottie wrote something on the back of that particular photo, grabbed one of the fancy invitation envelopes, and placed the photos inside.

“Hey, Lottie.”

Nat walked up to her, casually sitting down next to her. She wouldn’t stay there for class, obviously—she’d go sit with Van once the teacher showed up. But the students were all restless, chatting while they waited, so Natalie didn’t mind staying there for a bit.

“Hey.”

Lottie smiled—her usual discreet, polite, slightly restrained smile. She didn’t seem all that relaxed now—there was a subtle tension that Natalie could feel, though not quite name.

“You okay?”

She asked casually, but with a touch of concern, made clear by the way her hand rested directly on the taller girl’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Just… didn’t expect it to take so long. I’m a little nervous about the results.”

She shrugged. Nat wasn’t sure whether to believe her, but the faint doubt disappeared when Matthews caught her attention again, saying she had something for her. Natalie hadn’t expected that—her eyebrows rose slightly as Lottie handed her a white envelope, far too fancy to be something simple.

“My dad kind of lost his mind one day and booked an entire restaurant. He wanted the team to celebrate before the finals.”

She said it before Natalie could ask anything or even open the envelope. Nat held it in her hands, running her fingers along the edges while looking at it. Her name was written on it—in golden lettering, as tacky as all rich people.

“Wow! Mr. Matthews decided to invite everyone to a fancy dinner. I’m honored.”

She laughed, amused. Lottie laughed too, giving Natalie a light smack on the shoulder and telling her to shut up. The teacher arrived seconds later, and Natalie went to her seat.

“So Matthews gave you an invite too?”

Van asked quietly as soon as Natalie sat next to her.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

She confirmed, tucking the envelope carefully inside her notebook. She’d open it properly once she got home.

Lottie let out a long sigh, quietly thankful that Natalie hadn’t opened the invitation so eagerly. It was almost like she could breathe again after being underwater for minutes.

The rest of the day went fine—except that Lottie’s mind wouldn’t stop wondering whether Natalie had already opened the envelope, how she’d reacted, what she might have thought. She kept trying to push the urge to ask away. It would be weird. Awkward. Unnatural. So she forced herself to engage in whatever topic Laura Lee threw at her—even the religious ones.

Business at the store was slow. Not many customers had shown up, and the last few Nat helped were there for weed, not records—though one guy was nice enough to buy a Cranberries album. She allowed herself to close up half an hour early. She’d done reasonably well on the test, and just surviving the week felt like enough of an excuse.

She went in, took a shower, and made herself something to eat—just a turkey sandwich and a cold beer. She placed the tray on the bed, grabbed a joint from her bag, and lit it before finally turning her attention to Matthews’ invitation.

Natalie smiled involuntarily and opened the envelope with unusual care, like it might fall apart in her hands. Well… maybe that was expensive paper, so she’d be gentle—maybe she could sell it later to some idiot. Or maybe that was just a way to push Matthews into a less special place in her mind. But Nat knew. She knew something was starting to happen. She just didn’t want to trust it too easily—not yet. Not until she could piece together more of Matthews. Natalie needed to tread carefully before deciding what to call her—friend, or whatever else she might be.

There were a few photos inside, before the actual invite. Nat opened the invitation first—it was just something formal, saying she had a reservation and that she was on the guest list. She set it aside quickly and focused entirely on the photographs.

The first was of the two of them hugging—the one Shauna had taken. A more intimate moment than Nat had thought it really was. She took a drag from the joint, studied every part of the photo, and with an almost automatic gesture, flipped it over. As if it were meant to happen. Or rehearsed.

There was a phone number there and a short note, written in perfect handwriting:

“Call me whenever you want.”

Lottie was nestled in her bed with a cup full of hot chocolate, surrounded by cozy, fuzzy sheets. The TV played a Dungeons & Dragons VHS — her favorite cartoon since childhood. Sometimes, she liked to revisit those nostalgic feelings. She was pulled out of that universe when the phone rang. She knew who it was. Or had an idea. Or maybe she just desperately hoped it was who she was thinking of.

“Were you nervous to give me your number, Lottie? That’s so loser of you.”

The sarcastic, husky voice sounded almost like a relief to Lottie. She laughed on the other end, a little embarrassed, a little pleased — and a little confused by how much she liked when Natalie called her by name. Especially the way she made a point of saying it. It was something new. But in a way, perfect. Something from Nat. No one dragged out “Lottie” quite like she did.

“So… you going to the dinner?”

She asked casually after a while.

The TV was a little loud, but Lottie didn’t care. Her attention was on the phone line now.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss that chance.”

Lottie smiled, twirling the phone cord around her finger. The two went quiet for a few seconds, until Nat spoke again.

“What are you doing right now?”

She sounded curious, and Lottie imagined her casually leaning against a wall, cigarette in hand, careless, relaxed, angelic.

“Watching Dungeons & Dragons.”

She answered shyly, maybe expecting Natalie to tease her. Not that she didn’t like that — she did — but for some reason, she feared Nat might see her as ridiculously childish.

“Oh, that one’s good. You’re like a mix between Sheila and… well, a little Dungeon Master too.”

She laughed on the other end — rough, amused, free, but still a little mocking. Lottie was a bit surprised by the reaction, but kept going before they lost the teasing rhythm. It was a war. She had to keep up. Had to hold her ground.

“And you’d be Hank. A little Diana too. And just as annoying as Bobby.”

Natalie let out a nasally laugh. Lottie could picture the corner smile, dimples softening her sarcasm and making her weirdly cute.

“Shut up, I love that little dude. He’s like… the coolest.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and just replied:

“Yeah. I’m sure he’s exactly your type of character.”

Silence returned. Tense seconds, pressed with the doubt of what to say next to keep the moment going.

“Did you like the photos?”

She tried to sound casual. Tried not to sound ridiculously eager.

“I did…”

A pause. A silence. A hesitation hanging over the line. And then, the words that held it all together:

“There wasn’t much space to put it with the others, so I stuck it on the fridge door. Don’t feel special, Matthews… it was just because of the squirrel.”

She joked in a way that suddenly warmed Lottie’s heart. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling too hard.

“Too late. I already feel special.”

She teased, hearing Natalie let out a dramatic breath on the other end.

“Yeah… I can tell. I gotta go now. See you tomorrow, Lottie.”

The next night, Natalie was there — wearing a striped dress shirt, a gray skirt, and boots. Over it, a blazer. Very formal. But still very Natalie. Maybe it was the loose way the shirt hung on her body, two buttons undone, the oversized blazer, her usual makeup, or all the accessories.

The girls were already there when she arrived, but for some reason, her eyes instantly searched for Lottie Matthews. And there she was: in a short emerald-green satin dress, a black blazer over it. High heels that made her even taller, perfect makeup, lots of gold jewelry.

“Did you see this place? It’s insane. There’s a fancy game room after the restaurant.”

Van appeared suddenly, not even giving Natalie time to take it all in.

“No fucking way.”

She replied — part surprised, part impressed, part lost.

Van just asked her to follow. They spent a few minutes exploring the massive wine cellar and pool tables. But soon, they had to return to the main room — and to Natalie’s surprise, Lottie walked straight toward her as soon as she saw her, leaving the group of friends behind.

“Hey, Nat. You were taking forever. Thought you weren’t coming.”

She said, a faint trace of concern masked under her usual casual tone.

“We were checking out the game room. Also, didn’t know you were this clingy, Matthews.”

She teased, earning a suspicious, slightly confused look from Van.

The interaction was cut off by Mari, excitedly announcing they had to go — dinner was about to start.

Everyone sat around the huge table. Plates and silverware were already in place. The hall was bright, spacious, with paintings decorating the white walls. The seats had name cards: Shauna next to Jackie, Mari next to Shauna, Lottie facing Natalie. Van and Tai, Ben, Akilah, Misty… everyone was there.

The conversation started a bit stiff but soon loosened up. Mari joked it would be embarrassing if they lost after celebrating early. The girls kind of agreed but kept a competitive spirit — they were confident they’d win.

At some point, they decided to play “Who am I?”. Shauna, grumbling in a funny way, tore pages from her own notebook — because, for some reason, she always had one on her.

They wrote down celebrities, characters, or just random people. Which, well… nobody really does that.

Jackie wrote “Julia Roberts” for Mari. Mari wrote “Hannibal Lecter” for Shauna. Shauna wrote “Nicole Kidman” for Natalie. Natalie, without much thought, wrote “Shaila” for Lottie — it was the first thing that popped into her head. Lottie chose “Meryl Streep” for Jackie. Ben, Tai, Van, and Misty also had ridiculously labeled foreheads.

“So… am I an actress?”

Misty asked, weirdly excited. Everyone said no.

The game went on, with questions, clues, and wrong guesses.

“So… I’m tall and elegant?”

Natalie asked, hesitant.

“And hot as hell.”

Shauna cut in, without thinking.

Natalie paused. She sucked at this game. The kind who really got lost. She tried to piece together the few clues she had, letting her mind form an image.

“Am I Lottie?”

She guessed.

The first reaction was collective laughter. Nat told everyone to fuck off — not exactly mad, just her usual tone. Tai laughed, amused, asking why anyone would stick “Lottie Matthews” on Natalie’s forehead. A dumb discussion followed, with pointless arguments, until they returned to the game.

Later, when people started saying goodbye and the room slowly emptied, Lottie called Nat to the smoking area. They chatted a bit about the night. The conversation extended to Lottie’s car — she insisted on driving Natalie home. Maybe she just wanted to spend a bit more time with her.

“So, you think I’m hot as hell?”

Lottie teased while driving through the dark city streets. The traffic didn’t bother her. Strangely, it felt comforting. Like every red light was an excuse to stay a little longer.

“Fuck off.”

Nat replied with a cheeky smile, but deep down, a little shy. After a few minutes, relaxed in her seat:

“But yeah, you are hot as hell, if you wanna know.”

Lottie blushed. She hadn’t expected it to be that direct. But, well… it was Natalie.

“I think you’re hot as hell too.”

She replied casually, shrugging.

They kept chatting about the night: about the girls, Shauna’s indignation at getting Hannibal Lecter, how bad Akilah was at pool, and how Coach Ben was actually a decent guy.

When they pulled up in front of the store, Lottie thought they’d say goodbye there. But Natalie invited her in.

They drank vodka. Ended up watching Dungeons & Dragons — because, for some reason, Natalie thought that cartoon was awesome too. Shared some stories, lit a joint. They were so comfortable that Natalie was already lying in bed, while Lottie leaned against the wall, legs stretched over Nat’s.

“I really don’t know how to say I have to go.”

Lottie confessed at some point, worried about how late it had gotten. Nat, on the other hand, was chill, taking the last drag from her cigarette.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

She said calmly.

And Lottie… Lottie just stayed. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or the lightness of the weed, or because… she just wanted more of it. More of Natalie’s company.

So she stayed.

Chapter Text

Natalie woke up a little before her alarm went off, as if her body clock already knew her head would explode the second that obnoxious siren started blaring inside her skull.

She turned it off without even opening her eyes — she needed a moment for that.

Maybe she’d woken up because, for some reason, she felt unusually comfortable. There was a source of warmth beside her, something unfamiliar, radiating a scent that was floral, citrusy, and, well… a little bit vodka too.

Natalie opened her eyes slowly, filtering the soft morning light spilling into the room — still half-dark, half-lit. Couldn’t be later than six a.m.

It took a few seconds for her senses to adjust and her memory to kick in: that warm, comforting presence was none other than Lottie Matthews.

Her head was resting against Lottie’s back — like that time they’d fallen asleep on the couch, half-slumped, half-connected. But now… now there was something different about it.

Her arms were wrapped around the girl, and Lottie, unconsciously, was holding her hand there, like she was trying to keep Natalie close.

Or maybe it was just a reflex, a random gesture lost somewhere in sleep.

But still… it felt different.

She slipped away as quickly as she could, but even then, her movements were gentle — a quiet care not to wake the girl sleeping deeply, clinging to a pillow like her life depended on it, her whole face buried in it.

It was funny and, at the same time, kind of sweet. Like Lottie Matthews couldn’t help but be graceful, even in her sleep.

Nat did her best with the stack of American pancakes. It was a simple recipe, but she always messed it up — probably because most of the time, she didn’t have the patience to follow instructions.

But this time… this time she decided to get it right. Maybe because she was tired of eating crap.

Or maybe — just maybe — because she secretly wanted to impress Lottie. Even if that second reason wasn’t entirely clear to her yet. But it lingered, quietly, somewhere in the back of her mind.

When she was done, she picked the biggest mug for Lottie. Tried to make a bit of foam on the café au lait. Then arranged everything on a tray and brought it to the bed.

She didn’t want Matthews to be jolted back into the real world too harshly — realizing, for example, that she wouldn’t be treated like royalty every single day. That would be cruel. Too abrupt a reality check. So Natalie decided to be nice. Just this once. Not disappoint the rich girl.

“Hey, sleeping beauty… we don’t have all day.”

She started softly. Sarcasm, caution, affection — all absurdly mixed in that raspy voice that tried to sound detached. A light tap on Matthews’ shoulder. She needed to wake up.

Lottie took a moment to stir — she seemed groggy, heavy, still half-asleep.

She’d slept well, deeply even, though there was a small persistent ache pulsing at the back of her head, annoying like a distant echo.

Nat’s voice filled the room.

It sounded like background music — muffled, but warm. And that’s what triggered something in her. Maybe the realization that, yes, she had actually stayed when Natalie invited her the night before.

The memories came rushing back like flashes: the conversations, the laughter, the vodka, the weed, the cartoon on TV, their legs tangled over each other.

Sleep had found them as they giggled over something dumb, high.

“I can tell you’re awake, Matthews.”

That raspy voice again, playful this time.

Lottie could almost see Nat rolling her eyes as she said it.

She smiled wide, involuntarily, and was rewarded with a pat on the shoulder that made her laugh for real.

“I made you coffee. Come on, say thank you.”

Natalie teased as Lottie sat up in bed, trying to tame her hair, which looked especially wild that morning.

“Thanks, Chef Scatorccio. Would you mind showing me your menu?”

Lottie replied in an exaggerated, posh tone, mimicking one of those refined French actresses.

Natalie laughed. There was something new in the air. A subtle curiosity in her gaze, like she was testing the limits of this new dynamic. Lottie noticed.Noticed in the faint lift of her lips, the half-lidded eyes trying to look sarcastic…

But also in the way her cheeks were slightly sucked in — an almost childish gesture, like someone holding back a smile. Like someone not quite ready to give in. Not yet.

“Well… Miss Matthews, today’s menu is ridiculously American. We’ve got eggs, bacon, and these delicious pancakes with maple syrup, plus café au lait with lots of whipped cream.”

Lottie tried hard not to laugh, but it was all ridiculously funny and, for some reason, warm, unique, almost intimate, bringing back a heat to her chest and the ridiculous feeling that she just couldn’t stop smiling.

Her cheeks would hurt later anyway.

“Well… Chef Scatorccio, that sounds like a fine menu.”

She shot back, same rich voice, exaggerated and completely off-tone in that Matthews kind of way.

They ate in a kind of quiet, before Natalie got up to look for clothes that might fit Lottie, plus a new toothbrush and, well… she also suggested a pair of sneakers.

But they didn’t wear the same shoe size, so Lottie said she had a spare in the car — which made Nat ask why the hell she kept an extra pair of shoes in her car.

Lottie said it was for occasions when she had to spend too long in heels. And of course, Nat made fun of that afterward.

They got into Lottie’s car. Natalie had brought a new tape to play in the deck. It was becoming something of a ritual, though neither of them had quite realized these little things were slowly forming alongside the bond.

Perfect Day by Lou Reed played, almost perfectly in tune with the mood. Nat took the liberty of propping her feet on the dashboard, smoking with the window down. She avoided looking at Lottie in those clothes—because there was something about it she couldn’t help but stare at. It would be weird to think too much about the fact that, probably, the smell of her expensive perfume would cling to that Nirvana tee and that dark green flannel shirt.

There was something in the girl’s natural energy, something magnetic about the way she moved, in her actions, her posture—or even her perfectly styled hair. Even in clothes that weren’t hers, a style completely different from her own, Matthews didn’t lose her aura.

And somehow, it was like that style bent to her will, like it reshaped itself around her. Natalie’s clothes became Lottie’s, just like that—because that’s how she took ownership of things: Lottie Matthews could make anything hers, anything look like her. She wouldn’t lose that. She wouldn’t lose that aura for anything.

And, almost against her will, she made Natalie believe in those dumb thoughts about auras, energy, and magnetism. Not that Lottie had ever said anything like that, not that she was that kind of whimsical person—but for some reason, one Nat couldn’t explain, she gave off that feeling.

When they arrived at school, they parted ways in the hallway. They didn’t have the same classes—only one later in the morning. Lottie looked a little awkward saying goodbye, and Nat… Nat was secretly charmed by it. The way she always got a little shy every time she had to leave.

“So… I’ll see you at lunch?”

She said it a little timidly, a little reserved, a little inviting—but still trying to keep her usual tone. Natalie looked at her and, without thinking, reached out to fix the flannel draped over Lottie’s shoulder—the lapel had flipped inward. Which was surprising, because, well… Lottie Matthews never looked careless enough to miss a detail like that. She always looked polished, too perfect to be just human.

“See you later, Lottie.”

Lottie headed off to class—she had Literature with Jackie. She walked the hallway with a faint smile on her face. There was something about being with Nat that she hadn’t fully figured out yet, but it fed this restless desire to stay close to her.

Lottie was pulled from her thoughts when Jackie appeared in front of her, looking a little irritated—or, well, just doing that serious face she always made when she wanted to act like a team captain.

“Hey, where were you? Your dad called me a hundred times last night and I had to lie and say you were at my place, sleeping over!”

Jackie barely gave Lottie time to process it all. Her words came out fast, arms already crossed in that motherly, scolding pose. But something shifted in her expression—a flicker of curiosity as she scanned Lottie’s outfit. Lottie knew she had caught on.

“Wait… are those Natalie’s clothes?”

Curious, not accusatory. Lottie just sighed and kept walking, a silent invitation for Jackie to follow or risk being late. She felt the burning gaze behind her and tried to be brief.

“I dropped Natalie off and we ended up drinking. It got late, so I stayed.”

She said it casually, trying to sound natural. I mean, it shouldn’t be weird for Jackie to hear Lottie crashed at a friend’s place, right? Wrong. Jackie only looked more intrigued.

“So you two are friends… or what?”

Lottie adjusted her bangs, narrowing her eyes slightly. What did she mean by “or what”?

“Jesus Christ, Jackie.”

She rolled her eyes, still replaying the question. What exactly did she mean by “or what”?

“We’re friends. I like talking to Natalie. That’s it. Not weird.”

She shrugged, turned a corner, and walked into the classroom. Jackie dropped it with a simple:

“I know… it’s just, you two were never close before.”

They sat side by side, as usual in that class—Shauna and Laura Lee were in a different group for that subject.

“I know. Anyway, thanks for lying to my dad.”

Natalie was heading to her Calculus II class, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She had her walkman on—something she often did when she needed to relax, push thoughts away, or simply listen to music. It was a habit as strong as smoking. Because the Night by Patti Smith filled her ears, drowning out the annoying hallway noise of students running late.

Well… until Kevin showed up, gently pulling her aside and slipping the headphones off, letting them hang around her neck.

“Why didn’t you show up at the bus stop today?”

It wasn’t a real scolding, but Kevin tried to look serious—it was a running joke between them. Natalie shoved him lightly with both hands, and the two pretended to wrestle with light punches until they burst into laughter.

“No, but seriously, I missed the first bus waiting for you.”

He said it without a hint of annoyance, just being his usual self. He punched her shoulder playfully, and they kept walking.

“Sorry. I had a situation.”

She answered in her usual tone—half sarcastic, half casual, full-on Natalie. Like it was no big deal between them.

“A big one?”

Kevin asked, hands stuffed in the pockets of his tight black jeans. He wore a shiny leather jacket—looked brand new—and a plain black shirt that made his silver jewelry stand out. His waterline was smudged with black eyeliner—not like Natalie’s. His was messier, with less finesse, less texture.

“Yeah… a rich girl problem.”

She smirked, biting her bottom lip. Adjusted her backpack, and before Kevin could ask more, she added:

“I came with Matthews.”

In class, Lottie’s hands were sweating, slipping over the plastic barrel of her pen as she tried to write something in her notebook. She forced herself to focus, listening to the teacher’s voice in the background and Jackie saying something beside her that took several seconds to register.

She knew what was coming—and that was making her increasingly anxious. She hadn’t taken her medication, and it hadn’t seemed like a big deal… until the restlessness set in. She pushed her bangs back, ran her hands through her hair, tied it up, pressed her trembling fingers to her neck. Lottie clung to these small gestures, the ones that seemed to ground her. And it worked—for a while. Class went on and she scratched her neck quickly. She took off Nat’s flannel because she felt like she was sweating through it.

She kept writing in her notebook. Why was the teacher repeating the same sentence on the board? She didn’t question it—just kept writing. Jackie was saying something again, but Lottie couldn’t quite catch it… until her friend tapped her on the shoulder with a gentle push.

“Why are you still writing? Class ended like ten minutes ago.”

Lottie blinked several times. Looked down at her notebook and shut it quickly when she saw what she’d written. Not a single note from class—just her own name, over and over, scribbled in different styles. Lowttieee.

She rubbed her temples, trying to pull the right words together from her scattered mind.

“What class is next?”

Jackie was already standing, backpack slung over one shoulder, waiting.

“English now… are you okay?”

Lottie brushed her bangs to the side, packing up her stuff as fast as she could.

“Yeah… go ahead. I just need to hit the bathroom first.”

Natalie and Kevin dropped their trays onto the long cafeteria table. They’d been having lunch together almost every day since they were kids — a kind of best-friends ritual that only broke on rare occasions. And by rare occasions, that usually meant: when one of them was off messing around with someone else in the school halls.

Nat stole Kevin’s milk carton and he complained briefly. She argued that he didn’t even like milk, and he just accepted the defeat, going back to his fries.

She opened the carton, eyes scanning the cafeteria, looking for any sign of Lottie Matthews. It shouldn’t be hard to spot her — she was taller than most girls — but that wasn’t really the thing that made her stand out. There was something else about Lottie, something Natalie couldn’t quite name yet.

“What are you looking for?”

Kevin asked, mouth full of sandwich. Natalie made a quick face, unimpressed, but let it go. Just Kevin being gross.

“Matthews.”

Kevin shrugged, chewing on another bite as Natalie kept scanning the room. She gave up on spotting Lottie and started looking for Jackie, Shauna, or Laura Lee instead — if Lottie was around, she’d probably be with one of them.

“Matthews is hot,”

Kevin said casually, like it wasn’t a big deal but also maybe it was. Natalie turned to him with a half-smile, a tiny knot forming between her brows.

“I mean… you know, I’d kiss her if I had the chance.”

He shrugged again. Natalie just laughed — part amused, part bitter, part uncomfortable, but definitely sarcastic.

“She’s out of your league.”

Kevin put his sandwich down, eyebrows raised slightly. Curious expression.

“You know… her rich daddy would kick you out of the house by your underwear.”

She softened the comment with a smirk. Kevin laughed, agreed, and doubled down: Lottie was still hot as hell. Natalie threw a balled-up napkin at him and went back to her sandwich.

It didn’t take long before they were off on another topic — gossip, arguing about bands, laughing through it all. At least until Jackie, Shauna, and Laura Lee showed up out of nowhere, their faces definitely worried.

“Lottie’s not with you?”

Shauna was straight to the point. Her worried expression tightened her whole face.

“No… I thought she was with you guys.”

Natalie replied quickly, suddenly confused.

“She disappeared after first period. Her car’s not in the lot.”

Jackie added, sounding rushed. Natalie just paused. Maybe Lottie had gone home early or something.

“She probably went home or something like that.”

Lottie woke up in her room. Her memories of the day before were blank. She could only remember sitting with Jackie in literature class, jotting something down. And now here she was, dressed in her usual pink striped pajamas. There was a gap. She barely remembered anything.

She sat up abruptly — she needed to check something. She opened her notebook, flipping through the pages with frantic urgency. She was looking for that note… she remembered writing something over and over again before Jackie had pulled her out of what could’ve been a full-on episode. She turned the pages. But… there was nothing. There was nothing written there.

She rushed to the bathroom, checking if anyone had already come by to pick up her clothes for laundry. Nothing. Then she hurried downstairs, stopping mid-step when she saw her mother sitting at the table, while Lucy was setting breakfast.

“Lucy… do you know if my clothes were taken to the laundry? Did you see me wearing a green flannel?”

She tried not to sound too desperate. Lucy nodded, saying the clothes had been picked up the day before and would be back soon. Lottie exhaled, relieved. At least that part had been real.

She walked over to the table and grabbed a glass of orange juice, tortilla, eggs, and bananas. Her mother had been watching her for a while now, like she was waiting for something. Lucy returned with Lottie’s medication, which she took right away, the moment the housekeeper left the kitchen.

“It’s back, isn’t it?”

Lottie’s mother asked, voice calm but heavy with concern. Lottie chewed slowly, then set her fork down beside the plate.

“Are you going to tell Dad?”

She asked hesitantly, her voice tinged with fear — a quiet mix of worry and shame. Mrs. Matthews let out a sigh and reached across the table, gently placing her hand over her daughter’s.

“No… I won’t tell your father, sweetheart.”

A wave of relief ran through Lottie’s body. Instinctively, she held her mother’s hand in return — a silent gesture of gratitude and complicity.

“I just… I don’t know what happened. I guess I forgot to take the pills.”

She tried to explain, though she wasn’t sure where to begin. Her mother gave her a soft, knowing look and returned to her breakfast.

“Jackie and Shauna called for you. I told Lucy to say you were sick. They wished you well.”

She said it simply, as if it were just part of their daily routine. Sometimes, she and Lottie had these little cracks in the distance between them. Same with her father. Their relationship wasn’t necessarily bad — they just didn’t always know how to be with each other. Lottie wasn’t sure what to do with that either. So they just…, the best they could.

“How long was I asleep?”

She asked, still disoriented. Time had slipped from her grasp, only now confronted by the big antique Matthews family clock, flaunting the hour in thick, carved numbers on the living room wall.

“Almost two days…”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that. Which meant… it was Sunday. Which meant she’d been gone for a long time.

“Your father left yesterday morning for a trip. Don’t worry. He doesn’t know anything.”

Natalie was walking home with Kevin. They’d gone to a party the night before and ended up at Van’s place, drinking a little more and listening to music — taking advantage of the fact that her mom wasn’t home. In the end, they just crashed there. Tai and Van shared the bed; Kevin and Nat took the floor, wrapped in soft blankets just so they wouldn’t have to sleep directly on the carpet. Not that it mattered — they were high enough to pass out without thinking twice.

Kevin got home first. Natalie gave him a lazy hug and kept walking toward the store. It wasn’t far — just a few blocks away, and she walked fast enough to get there in under fifteen minutes. It was Sunday. No big obligations. She didn’t have to open the shop or clean anything. Just take a shower, change clothes, and sink into the comfort of her bed. Watch her favorite movie, listen to music, get high… the usual.

But now that she finally had time to think, one irritating thought kept circling her mind: Lottie Matthews.

Natalie had called her a few times — no answer. Once, she even thought Lottie was going to pick up, but… it sounded like someone had taken the phone off the hook.

She had considered asking one of the other girls, but she barely talked to them. It’d be weird. Asking Tai to ask? Weird too. Everything felt weird when it came to Lottie Matthews.

She spent the rest of the morning like that. Tried watching a movie — even managed to focus for a while. But every time she went to the bathroom or passed by the kitchen, her mind wandered back to the same place: the phone.

So… she decided to try. One more time.

Not because she was worried. Not because she wanted to hear Lottie’s voice. Not entirely to make sure she was okay. But to silence the persistent thought that had been floating in her mind — the thought of Lottie.

Or maybe just to prove to herself that Lottie wouldn’t pick up again. She hadn’t picked up the other times. Natalie had probably called more than she realized… she had memorized the Matthews’ number, after all.

She sighed. She already expected the call to go straight to a dead line.

But to her surprise, Lottie picked up.

“Finally, Matthews.”

Natalie said, trying not to sound relieved. Just casual, just sarcastic. She wasn’t worried — just a little unsettled, maybe annoyed because it would be inconvenient to be worried. That was it. Nothing more.

“Did you miss me?”

Lottie’s voice came through, a little shy, but the sarcasm was clear in her tone. Natalie could almost picture her glancing upward or fixing her bangs as she spoke.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Lottie. I just want my clothes back.”

She teased, pushing the sarcasm a bit harder just to make sure Lottie got it. And she did, because Natalie heard a soft laugh on the other end — something almost childlike, too sweet for her ears.

“But seriously… did something happen?”

She asked, keeping her tone a bit distant. Her eyes wandered around the room, waiting for a response as silence filled the line. After exactly forty seconds, Lottie spoke:

“What are you doing?”

A casual question, thrown in by someone who wanted to steer the conversation somewhere else. Nat sighed. She didn’t ask again — didn’t want to seem pushy. So she just went with it.

“I’m home. Not doing anything, really. Just… talking to you.”

A confession. Straightforward, impulsive, direct. She leaned against the wall nearby.

“Why do you ask?”

She shot back, handing the conversation back over to Lottie.

“Wanna go to the beach with me?”

Natalie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back a little smile.

“Who goes to the beach this time of year, Matthews?”

She was genuinely curious. Lottie had a way of sparking that — even with something as random as this.

“We do. We go to the beach this time of year.”

She answered playfully. Natalie could practically see that determined look on Lottie’s face — maybe that was how she got what she wanted.

“Fine… but bring a blanket.”

When Lottie arrived, Nat was already waiting for her out front. It had become a kind of running joke in Lottie’s mind, because the last few times she had come to pick her up, Natalie had been in that same spot: leaning casually against the wall, a half-burned cigarette between her fingers. Still, today she seemed more relaxed. She wasn’t wearing makeup. She had on brown sweatpants, a ridiculously oversized green T-shirt, and a blackish-brown jacket that Lottie found particularly stylish.

The blonde got into the car, sliding in with her usual nonchalance. Lottie gave her a brief smile before starting the engine.

“I like the cap.”

She said, comfortable enough to prop her feet up on the seat.

“I like the jacket.”

Lottie replied, smiling. She meant it. They both went quiet again, in that kind of comfortable silence that still carries a lot unsaid, a lot of questions hanging in the air. But they didn’t speak. For now, they just enjoyed each other’s company.

The sea was calm, the waves breaking with a slowness that seemed almost timed. The sun was faint but still lingering. People were around too—fewer than in summer—but there were still some walking along the sand or out with their dogs. Lottie and Nat picked a strategic spot to sit: a pile of rocks, close enough to the shore, but high enough to stay dry from the calm sea. Lottie had her camera around her neck—her faithful companion in moments like this. She snapped a photo of Natalie, one of the ocean, and then put it away as they sat down and spread a blanket over their legs, like two weirdos.

Natalie broke the silence first.

“So… you had everyone worried.”

She started from the edges, carefully feeling out where she wanted to land. Lottie caught on. Nat did that when she didn’t want to seem like she cared—but Lottie felt like she did. Even if she hadn’t known her for long, which made it all feel strange and new, and even more confusing because of how comfortable and pressured she felt all at once.

“Were you worried?”

She asked, doing the same thing she’d done on the phone. Nat chuckled under her breath, giving her a little shove, mildly impatient.

“Just answer my question.”

It wasn’t tense. Lottie knew Nat wasn’t trying to push her off the edge, but… she was already on the edge anyway. She sighed, looking out at the ocean.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it.”

She muttered, a little childlike, like a shy kid. She bit her lower lip.

“I was worried.”

Natalie admitted suddenly, catching her off guard. Lottie smiled, not reacting right away—that was Nat’s way of saying she was there.

“It’s just… kind of complicated.”

She scratched her temple, looking at the girl beside her. Natalie’s expression was unreadable, like someone searching for the right words—or someone who simply didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone. You can tell me… if you want to.”

She said again, and for some reason, Lottie didn’t feel pressured. For some reason, it didn’t feel like Natalie was just curious. It felt like, somehow, she cared. But wasn’t it too soon for that? Too soon to trust?

“It’s just that I don’t want your view of me to change.”

She said, hesitant. Lottie had never told anyone about this. Not Jackie, not Shauna, not Laura Lee. Although she suspected the latter might’ve guessed. Lottie had spoken to Laura Lee about it once—not directly, but when she needed something to hold on to, when she felt like she was being punished by some god or another. Laura Lee welcomed her without question, saying it was a gift, even without knowing what it was. But then again, Laura Lee was pure—she’d love anyone if she could.

“You know, nothing’s gonna change the fact that you’re stupidly rich.”

Nat joked, bringing sarcasm like a cushion, something to soften things up for both herself and Lottie. She still saw Lottie as that perfect, elegant, magnetic, rich girl—almost unreal. But somehow, something about her made Scatorccio think she was much more than that. Lottie Matthews was so much more than Natalie could see.

“I have… I have this thing. My dad kind of taught me not to talk about it with anyone. He said we’d handle it…”

Nat turned to Lottie. She didn’t interrupt—she just let her go on. Let Matthews trust her.

“It’s called schizophrenia. It’s mild, but I have to take some meds and, well… yesterday I forgot to take them. The symptoms don’t usually come back that fast, but… I’m scared they will.”

Lottie blinked several times, staring at Nat for a few seconds, trying to read her reaction. She regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. Why did she feel comfortable? Why had she said it? Why to someone she’d only just really started talking to? She had never told anyone before.

A flicker of panic lit in her chest—but it was snuffed out quickly by Natalie’s gesture. The girl placed her hand on Lottie’s, casually, not needing much.

“It’s okay, Lottie.”

Nat said. Gentle, in her usual Natalie way. She smiled briefly, and Lottie relaxed. Lottie held her hand, gave it a quick squeeze of gratitude—and Nat just left her hand there.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

And that was it. They didn’t talk about it again. They just stayed there, their hands sort of stuck together, sort of intertwined, holding hands in a comforting way they didn’t think too much about. They laughed at dumb things, smoked, counted the waves.

They headed back to the shop once the sun had set. On the way, they bought coffee and a few donuts to go—though they ended up eating them on the drive back. Sometimes Natalie would tease her by feeding Lottie while she drove.

At the store, the two of them acted like they’d been working together forever. Nat had said she wasn’t opening that day, but she wouldn’t waste Lottie Matthews’ free labor for a second. Lottie reorganized the records with ease, like the place was already hers.

“You know this is the last time we’ll have a break like this. Next week, Ben’s gonna drain us dry.”

Lottie said, laughing a little at her own words. Natalie noticed that. How could she be so charming? The way Lottie moved was almost hypnotic. Anyone could see it—and Natalie definitely did.

“And, well… we kind of have to win now. Otherwise it’ll be embarrassing after celebrating before the game.”

She added, going back to the dinner party conversation. She was right, of course. Now that they’d celebrated preemptively, they actually had to make it to Nationals.

“We’re gonna win. Just one more game.”

Lottie said, almost as confident as Natalie. The blonde dropped her gaze for a moment, hiding a quiet smile as she opened one of the recently arrived boxes with a box cutter.

“Hope so. I want three whole months of winter without playing, so we can come back strong for Nationals.”

She said, casually, pulling the records from the box. But in a careless moment, she cut her finger. Blood showed quickly on her pale skin, and the curse was automatic:

“Fuck.”

Lottie noticed immediately and crossed the small store in a few steps, taking Nat’s wrist to see the cut. It wasn’t deep, but still.

“Do you have a band-aid? Something to clean it with so it doesn’t get infected?”

She asked, practical. Natalie nodded and went to get it. She came back with a small box containing some pills and cartoon band-aids. Lottie laughed when she saw the colorful ones and picked one out.

“You know I can do this myself, right?”

Nat said, just stating a fact, not annoyed.

“Oh, shut up.”

Lottie shot back, amused. She dabbed some alcohol on a cotton pad and gently cleaned the cut.

“Okay, doctor. That stings.”

Nat replied with her usual husky, playful tone. Lottie laughed, a wide smile breaking out as she applied the band-aid.

“Still hurts?”

She asked, with a tone that was somewhere between obvious, innocent, and shy. Nat nodded, playing along. The moment caught Lottie off guard. They looked at each other for a few seconds—and as if it were the most natural thing, Lottie brought Natalie’s finger to her lips and kissed it.

“How about now?”

She asked again, without thinking too much. There was something foggy in her logic right then. She bit the inside of her cheek lightly, her eyes locked on Nat’s. She shook her head, but didn’t look away.

Then Lottie turned her hand over and kissed the back of it.

“Better?”

Nat blinked. Lottie felt her mind foggy—not confused, just intense. She leaned in, gently cupped Natalie’s face, and without saying anything, kissed her cheek slowly.

“Natalie, I need your help…”

Van walked in. The bell above the door rang at the same time, but the redhead was faster. Lottie pulled away immediately, unsure where to place her hands, trying to keep her composure. She tucked her hair behind her ear. Nat simply adjusted herself on the stool, turning to Van.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The redhead asked with a teasing tone. Lottie’s eyes widened and she shook her head quickly.

“No… actually, I was just leaving.”

She said fast, not giving Natalie a chance to reply. She grabbed her bag, picked up her things, and said her goodbyes quickly:

“Bye, Nat. See you at practice. Bye, Van. Say hi to Tai.”

And she left.

Chapter Text

It was the week of the final game and, well, no one seemed as anxious as Lottie Matthews — at least not on the inside. Because on the outside, the usual façade remained. Not because Lottie was closed off or didn’t know how to express emotion, but because there was something about her that exuded a peculiar calmness, a gentleness, a saintly and delicate aura, incapable of transmitting anything remotely negative, incapable of causing anything other than enchantment and serenity. It would almost be cheesy to say that Lottie was simply too beautiful for any of that.

She rushed into the locker room, even though she wasn’t late. She just wanted a few minutes alone before it filled up — not because she didn’t enjoy the other girls’ company, but because she needed a moment to breathe. Thank God, it was empty. Clean and more organized than usual. She looked at herself in the mirror, fixing her hair; pulled a brush out of her bag and tried to do something with the long, wavy strands. Well… that lasted until the girls started pouring in one by one, filling the locker room with overlapping conversations and silly laughter — some genuinely joyful, others just too nervous to stay quiet.

They got wrapped up in random chatter. An annoying freshman was going on about how terrible her situation was — no one really liked her — but Lottie maintained her usual impartial demeanor, unlike Tai, who rolled her eyes or just tuned out. Then Natalie came in, a bit rushed, walking in that funny, way-too-fast kind of way, hitting Lottie as suddenly as the memory of what she’d done the day before.

“You left this at the store.”

Nat said, casually, as always, handing Lottie a keychain with a little deer charm, a lip gloss hanging from it — and, of course, a key.

She looked sort of stoic, as usual, outwardly unbothered. Lottie, on the other hand, had terribly flushed cheeks and a gaze trying to stay focused on whatever she was pretending to rummage through in her bag. Once she felt ready, she looked up at Nat — only to find the girl’s greenish eyes scanning her with caution, like she was being examined head to toe.

Lottie shifted on her feet, gave a sheepish smile, fixed her bangs, crossed her arms. All in small gestures, but they perfectly captured her state of mind. Her lips on the girl’s pale skin… she could swear there had been a shimmery lip gloss mark left behind — small, but she was sure — though she’d rushed out of the store so fast she hadn’t even given herself time to notice. The way Nat had simply accepted it, like someone accepts a compliment with ease, without questioning much.

“Thanks! How’s your finger?”

She forced herself to speak, noticing she’d been drifting too much, noticing too much, observing too much. Her tongue pushed out the first words Lottie could think of, no filter. Nat smiled, a little sweet, a little sideways — like always.

“You tell me, doc…”

Oh no. She brought it back. Lottie looked away, but smiled anyway, a reflex, like things just happened.

“My finger’s not gonna necrotize or anything.”

So nonchalant, so singular — as if Nat truly didn’t give much thought to how Lottie had treated her. With a closeness that was almost out of place, though not really. Lottie knew it hadn’t been anything major, but something inside her — or the way it had burned through her — made it feel like it had.

She’d been affectionate with Laura Lee, Jackie and, well… even Shauna, who usually only gave in to Jackie’s affection. But now, with Nat, for some reason, it felt more intense. Like there was something there. Maybe something about timing, maybe something about the fact they hadn’t yet named what they had a friendship. Maybe it was the way Van had hinted there was something more than what it was — or what Lottie thought it was. But Nat… Nat apparently didn’t care about any of that.

Suddenly, “Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa started playing — a teenage ritual before every game in the locker room. The girls started to get hyped up and, well, Lottie and Nat joined in, singing, dancing. Lottie followed behind Nat, brushing past her, touching her shoulders and, well… it all went on like that until game time.

Natalie was kind of nervous, kind of excited, kind of everything about the game. They were the first to walk into the school gym, introduced in the same dumb ceremony as always. Coach Scott looked proud of his hard work — or maybe just proud of how he’d nearly bled the girls dry during the week’s practices — to the point where they could barely focus on anything else. No side conversations, no personal dramas. Natalie didn’t even have time to smoke, and getting high was completely off-limits that week. It was basically torture. But there they were.

They made their grand entrance, and the whole school responded with teenage screams and dumb whistles. Coach Martines looked proud too, like he’d had anything to do with it. He didn’t do shit except be an asshole and supervise everything Coach Scott actually did.

After all the noise and drama, they finally made it to the field. This was the final game, the one that could get them to nationals. Coach Scott gave his usual cheesy pep talk, and Misty tried to get her moment in — not that anyone was really listening. Then they got organized to head out onto the field. Outside, the crowd was going wild. You could practically feel the tension and adrenaline in the air.

The game started off intense. No one was in the mood to give up their shot at nationals. Shauna was the fastest — she usually tore across the field with the ball, passing it off to the other girls. Jackie, as captain, kept the team sharp, united, calling out plays. Natalie created them, charging forward with this kind of raw energy, skilled enough to cut through the wall formed by the other team’s defenders. Lottie held down the defense with Laura Lee, using her height to intimidate the other girls. Sometimes Tai and Nat would drop back to help cover the wings. Van guarded the goal, laser-focused, constantly communicating with Lottie and Laura Lee, who covered her blind spots.

But the other team wasn’t giving in either, and by the end of the first half, no one had scored.

During the break, Coach Scott went over new strategies, pushing for a more offensive approach. Jackie gave her usual motivational speech — the kind that always made Natalie roll her eyes, though she had to admit, somehow, it actually inspired the team.

Then they were back on the court, tired but motivated, and playing more aggressively. The other team started with the ball, but quickly lost it in a messy play. It was a balanced match; possession shifted constantly, both teams fully locked in.

At the thirtieth minute of the second half, the one thing that should never happen, happened: Tai got too aggressive and ended up breaking a girl’s leg, which got her sent off.

Once the drama died down and the panic of playing with one less girl kicked in, they went back to the game. Now it was ten against eleven.

At the fortieth minute, an opponent got past Lottie — she didn’t have support from the left wing, and in a moment of distraction, or maybe a hard shove, the striker managed to pass the ball to her teammate. But Van, with a lot of effort, blocked the shot.

Natalie let out a deep breath. She glanced at Lottie, who looked a little shaken. Their eyes met. Natalie smiled, trying to comfort her, and Lottie, understanding the gesture, just nodded.

Forty-five minutes in. Neither team had scored, though the opponent had gotten closer to their goal. Still, with grit, they managed to hold the line.

Overtime: five minutes. That’s all they had to avoid a penalty shootout. Exhausted but determined, they started the play.

Shauna pushed the ball into the opponents’ box, passing to Natalie, who dribbled along the right side looking for space. Mari called for it on the other end, but instead, Natalie passed it back to Shauna — earning a disapproving look. But she knew what she was doing. Shauna got it, and lofted the ball high, aiming at Jackie, who was wide open. Perfect shot. Beautiful goal.

The whistle blew, and they all ran toward each other.

For some reason, Natalie went straight to Lottie and gave her a quick hug, overcome with adrenaline. It wasn’t like Jackie and Shauna’s hug — Jackie practically crushed her — and unlike them, Nat just leaned her face against Lottie’s shoulder, who wrapped her arms loosely around her, hands resting on her back.

The rest of the girls came over. They all hugged, jumped, celebrating.

“We’re going to Natioooonaaaals!”

Lottie shouted in celebration. Natalie just echoed the team’s excitement with a grin.

In the locker room, the tension that had weighed on Lottie was now replaced by a quiet sense of fulfillment. They’d done it — and she felt it too, even if what she felt was more relief than euphoria, unlike the others.

As always happened after a win, the girls were already planning where to go to celebrate. This time, the chosen spot was Jeff’s party — Jackie’s ex. Or, well, Matthews wasn’t exactly sure what the status of that relationship was — they were always breaking up and getting back together. Though lately Jackie didn’t seem to care anymore, and wasn’t with anyone but Shauna. Not that that was exactly new… But now, Lottie could see something else underneath it. Something Tai had mentioned once — and that used to mean nothing. But for some reason, now it did.

Speaking of Tai, no one really seemed mad at her. Well, not until someone brought up the near-goal. Lottie had been trying her best to stay out of the discussion, until one of the girls blurted:

“Lottie had to work twice as hard because of you.”

Then they all turned to look at her, as if waiting for a complaint. The tall girl simply shrugged, calm and composed as always.

“It was kind of annoying, but… it’s over.”

Straight to the point. And enough to make the whole thing dissolve, like she had some naturally calming effect on everyone around her.

Natalie came over a bit later, once Laura Lee left Lottie alone to pack her things.

“Well, well, team star. You going to the party?”

It was kind of funny — the casual way Natalie said it, calling her that, made Lottie laugh softly and glance away, a bit of visible pink rising to her cheeks.

“Team star? Aren’t you the one with all the brilliant plays?”

She asked playfully, catching the moment Natalie smiled and straightened up, brushing her fingers lightly over her neck. Was that… shyness? Yes. Lottie saw it. This time, she really noticed how flustered Natalie got, even if the sarcasm stayed perfectly intact. The more she got to know her, the more she could see through her.

Natalie wasn’t hard. Most of the time, she was… soft.

“You know I’m not one to brag,”

the blonde said, dry and amused as ever.

Lottie laughed, and said she was going to the party.

It was almost eight when Lottie left the house. She wore a pink plaid skirt and a fuzzy cardigan in the same shade. On her feet, black combat boots with pink laces. Her hair was perfect, bangs brushed neatly over her scar.

On the way, she picked up Laura Lee — and somehow Mari ended up coming along too.

The three of them stood by the car, drinking casually. Teen laughter filled the air. Red cups in hand, full of something Lottie couldn’t quite identify. Her eyes scanned for Nat, though so far, only Jackie and Shauna were in sight.

The music was loud, and Lottie let herself drift between conversations with her friends. That was until Jackie gathered them all in a corner — apparently, Tai and Shauna were arguing again about what had happened earlier.

And that’s when she saw Nat.

She was wearing that oversized leather jacket, a plaid skirt, boots, makeup. The whole look. A lesson in punk and, somehow, strangely angelic.

The girls lined up, and Jackie did her whole captain routine, lecturing them about staying united if they wanted to make it to nationals. The girls pushed back — that was still months away — but Jackie was persistent enough to get them to play a game: each girl had to say something nice about another teammate.

Laura Lee offered to go first, saying something about one of them having the eyes of God. Lottie rolled her eyes dramatically, cup in hand, and muttered:

“Oh my God…”

“Okay, Laura Lee, forget it… just pair up.”

And so they did. Coincidentally — or automatically — Natalie and Lottie went straight to each other.

Nat grinned, half-mocking, clearly amused by everything in that way only she could pull off. Lottie stared back, arms crossed, cup swaying lazily between her fingers. She admired her in silence.

“Lottie, you never talk shit unless someone really deserves it…”

Nat said, that raspy voice of hers dragging Lottie’s name just slightly, a wide smile on her lips. Lottie felt her chest go warm — a heavy sweetness, a feeling almost unfamiliar.

“And also…”

Nat looked at her again, this time glancing up, her eyes focusing somewhere just above Lottie’s forehead.

“I like your pilgrim hat.”

A short laugh followed the comment, and Lottie’s eyebrows pulled together — part surprised, part confused.

Natalie had arrived at the party long before Lottie. She was with a few friends everyone thought were kind of weird — but they simply didn’t care. Or, more often, flipped people off.

They were smoking a joint together, and Natalie felt almost relieved — the warmth of the smoke, the easy laughter, the lack of expectations. Then her friend John showed up, handing her a small bag with three pills.

She thanked him, took one, and washed it down with a sip of vodka.

Half an hour later, her vision was blurry. She was smiling more, dumber, happier. God, she was feeling everything. The wind. The cup in her hand. Her thoughts unraveling into spirals — and yet, everything felt good. Harmlessly good.

Until the fight. Until Jackie’s stupid game. And now, here she was, following Lottie in silence.

The two of them walked without saying anything, until they reached a quieter spot. There wasn’t much to say anyway. Natalie just followed, stopping with Lottie near a tree, far from the fire, far from the noise, far from the drinks. Far from time. As if everything had been sucked away and the only thing left real was Lottie.

“So… shouldn’t you be off somewhere with some guy?”

Natalie pushed the words out with casual ease, but they were loaded. She just wanted to talk, to break the comfortable silence that had settled between them. Sometimes, euphoria gave birth to urgency.

“I’d rather be here… with you.”

Lottie answered softly, the last part almost a whisper, but Natalie caught it. Barely, but she did.

“Oh… I see. I’m, like, super special to you.”

She joked, slightly thrown off, slightly out of it, and yet weirdly lucid about who was standing beside her.

She leaned closer to Lottie, their shoulders brushing for a moment — just long enough to send a sharp chill through her. An effect of the drug, obviously. Maybe. Or maybe she just didn’t grasp the weight of it all.

“Those guys aren’t really my type.”

Lottie said it calmly, her eyes fixed somewhere far off in the direction of the party.

“And what is your type?”

Lottie took a while to answer. That usual pause — when she thinks, when she calculates, when she pretends she’s not dodging the question. Only this time, Natalie didn’t notice. She was too far gone — inside herself and outside at once.

So the only thing Matthews said was:

“Do you want to come to my place?”

It was gentle. No explanation, no context. Just that — like it meant nothing. Or everything.

Natalie nodded. She didn’t think much about it. Didn’t try to make sense of it or rationalize. Her brain was too scrambled for that. She was floating. And Lottie was the fixed point.

Lottie didn’t really know how to react to Nat’s question. She had never actually stopped to think about what her type of guy would be. In truth, she wasn’t even sure she had one. Most of the time, she just gave that ready-made answer to avoid dragging the topic out — like saying “he’s not my type” was an automatic way to shut down any attempt to throw names her way.

Not that it was a big deal. Lottie just… didn’t care that much. Or maybe she’d just never truly liked anyone — not in the way people described. Sometimes, she’d pretend to have a crush on some boy or another, just to feel less out of place when Jackie started obsessing over losing her virginity before college — those loud teenage conversations she always found a little ridiculous.

Maybe it was because she read too much. Maybe it was because books said love was sad, that love always ended. Or maybe it was just who she was: old-fashioned, dreamy. Sometimes she thought she’d only fall for someone if it happened like in books — meeting them at a bookstore, bumping into someone by accident at a coffee shop, falling in love by chance at a flower shop, drenched in the rain. Something out of an old movie.

But there was no guy like that. Not yet. And Lottie didn’t know if he would ever exist.

“I think I’d be your type… if I were a boy.”

Natalie blurted it out, leaving Lottie with no immediate reaction. It hit her like a jolt of electricity — starting in her chest, rising up her neck. She ignored the feeling, choosing instead to watch Nat for a moment. She looked like she was just having fun — maybe Lottie shouldn’t be so tense.

“What makes you think you’d be my type?”

Lottie asked, half amused, or at least trying to shove that strange warmth somewhere else.

“Oh, come on, Lottie. You know you’d be totally in love with me.”

Nat teased, giving her shoulder a light push. Matthews eased, letting the feeling settle in without even trying to count the seconds. She laughed, eyes on the ground, a little flushed, smiling too much.

“So what would you do if you were my boyfriend?”

Nat laughed, rolling her eyes, caught somewhere between the moment and her own blurred thoughts — and Lottie could see that.

“I’d hold your hand. I know you’re that kind of cheesy person.”

She said it with that signature mockery, pure Nat — the kind Lottie admired. The kind that made Nat feel closer. And to Lottie’s surprise, Nat actually took her hand as they walked, clearly playing it up.

“I’d take you to some old library, you’d pick the oldest and most boring book, and we’d go to a café to talk. And maybe later, at a park, under a big tree, you’d read your book to me… and I’d pretend to listen but fall asleep by page two.”

Lottie laughed, gently squeezing Natalie’s hand in hers. The tension still lingered in the air. She was hyper-aware of the touch — warm, soft, affectionate. It slipped away when they got into the car.

“Then I’d kiss you in the car.”

Lottie froze. Her body locked in place. No prior reaction, just a held breath. Her mind was foggy — a sensation she had already felt once, kissing Nat’s cheek. She wet her lips, watching Nat lean in and casually press her lips to Lottie’s cheek — closer to her jawline. The warmth shot through her. She closed her eyes, letting the touch linger — and, for some reason, wishing it wouldn’t end.

No reaction. She blinked as Nat pulled back just a little. Rapid breathing met calm breath. She felt the tip of Nat’s sweaty nose brush against hers. Her eyes closed instinctively, lips parting slightly. Nat kissed her forehead, then leaned away.

“But I’m not a boy. And definitely not your boyfriend.”

The car ride was tense for Lottie. She wasn’t sure what to think — about what had just happened, about anything, really. But she kept pushing it all down, swallowing the noise inside her. And she was pulled back, over and over, by Nat — the way she talked, the way she turned the radio on like nothing had happened. And maybe nothing had happened. Maybe Lottie was just overthinking it again, like she always did, attaching meaning and trying to fit possibilities into what was maybe just… ordinary.

“Isn’t your rich dad gonna freak out if he sees me here?”

Natalie said in her usual tone, glancing around the house. Lottie could tell she was trying not to look too obvious or surprised by everything — playing it cool in a place that clearly wasn’t hers. But it was kind of cute, the way Nat looked at things, like she had at the lake house.

“They’re probably at the office. Or on some trip. Whatever.”

She answered with a shrug, taking Nat’s hand to lead her to the bedroom. They sat on the bed, and Nat started to look around at Lottie’s things the same way Lottie had done in her room — tossing out those sarcastic little comments that always made Lottie laugh.

Then they both lay back, staring at the ceiling — half in, half out of their own heads. Just enjoying being next to each other.

“So… do you want me to read to you?”

Lottie offered, a little shy, a little playful. Natalie just laughed — her usual laugh.

“Oh fuck yes.”

She said between laughs. So Lottie grabbed the book on her nightstand. Little Women was her current read. She moved closer — a lot closer. Sat on the bed and, like that time in the park, let Nat rest her head on her lap. Then she started to read aloud, casually.

And Natalie? Natalie fell asleep.

But not on the second page — maybe the third, or the fourth… but not the second.

The next morning, Lottie and Nat showed up at school together. It wasn’t exactly subtle — Nat had spent the night at her place and, well, this time she got to be the queen who deserved breakfast in bed… though not made by Matthews herself.

Nat had her gray crewneck sweatshirt back. She wore it under her leather jacket, paired with a gray skirt that belonged to Lottie and her usual tights, along with her boots. Winter had settled in — these were the last weeks of school before the long end-of-year break.

They parted ways to go to class, but casually promised to have lunch together again, like saying a simple goodbye wasn’t something they did anymore.

Natalie headed straight for Kevin, who immediately asked who she’d snuck off with after the party, in his usual vaguely suggestive tone.

“Oh God, I was with Matthews, you dumbass.”

Nat said, rolling her eyes. She and Kevin had this thing — they shared everything. He wasn’t being nosy; it was just how they were. Constantly oversharing was kind of their default.

“Did you kiss her?”

He teased, grinning. Nat shoved him, laughing.

“I didn’t kiss her, you idiot.”

She said, rolling her eyes again. She wasn’t going to kiss Lottie Matthews. She didn’t even know how to deal with that girl. Matthews was still a mystery to Natalie — one she was slowly figuring out and, secretly, kind of enjoying. Enjoying Lottie Matthews in all her contradictions. But maybe that was it. Maybe that was all it was. At least for now.

“You’re such a fucking loser. She’s hot.”

Kevin teased, still half-offended for her.

They joked about that kind of stuff all the time. It wasn’t weird — even in the ‘90s, even if they weren’t “like that.” Sometimes Natalie would call Kevin out for never hooking up with a guy, and Kevin wasn’t even gay or anything. They got each other. Maybe it was part of the whole punk scene — something about being young, anarchist, and way too cool to care about labels.

“Oh, fuck off. But yeah, she is hot as hell.”

Kevin laughed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“You’re lucky no one’s in this hallway, ‘cause if anyone heard that, you’d be branded a slut and a dyke.”

He joked, earning another slap from Nat — harder this time.

“Shut the fuck up”.

Chapter Text

Natalie was waiting for the bus with Kevin and John — better known as Smartass, thanks to his questionable sense of humor. She was sipping vodka from a bottle hidden inside a bakery paper bag. It was the last day of school for the year, and god, she had been waiting for it. She couldn’t wait to get the hell away from that place for a few weeks.

The three of them were laughing at something stupid. Kevin was telling one of his usual stories about girls — Nat knew most of them were bullshit, but they were still funny. They always ended with him being the loser, and she liked that. It was his twisted way of putting girls on a pedestal, like they were untouchable, almost divine. Kevin was never the type to make gross or sexist jokes. On the contrary, he was someone Nat could have a safe, honest friendship with — without feeling watched or wanted.

Even though, at some weird point in the past, the two of them had tried flirting — and even kissed. First kiss for both of them, actually. It hadn’t been awful. Just… wrong. Flirting never really fit them.

Smartass had joined them much later. He’d never been glued to Kevin and Nat like they were to each other. In fact, they barely crossed paths since he was in a completely different year — and a chronic flunker, as far as Natalie knew. No one understood how he hadn’t been expelled yet. But he was cool. Funny, surprisingly clever at the weirdest times, despite being a total academic disaster. He had that vibe of a chubby, sensitive kid who didn’t quite fit in anywhere but valued the few friends he had. Plus, he somehow always managed to score pills when they needed them.

“Heard you’re off to the Olympics or something.”

John said, in that goofy, overly impressed tone that was so him. He felt like a cartoon character — exaggerated, but always entertaining. Kevin and Nat liked having him around, even if they didn’t see him that often.

“Yeah… I am.”

She didn’t correct him. Just laughed a little, awkwardly, and took the bottle from Kevin’s hand for another sip. Everything was fine until a ridiculously blue car pulled up in front of them.

“Hey, Natalie, how much you charging these days, you little slut?”

Rich shouted from the window, acting like the moron he was. Nat rolled her eyes. She knew he was talking about weed, but the way assholes around school would twist it, the line would turn into something else entirely. Marco, as insufferable as ever, popped out from the other side, head stuck out the window, his hair so soaked in gel not even the wind could mess it up.

“How much for an hour, huh? Show us your tits.”

He laughed, dragging it all to the worst possible place — the realm of rumors and gross teenage fantasies. Nat flipped them off, trying to ignore it, until she heard it again:

“C’mon, Natalie, just show us your tits.”

Laughter.

And then, in one idiotic impulse, Smartass pulled up his own shirt. Exposing his pale, hairy belly, he did a ridiculous little dance, asking the guys if they were enjoying the show.

That was enough to shut them up. The idiots drove off. But Nat couldn’t hold it in. The moment the car started to move, she hurled the bottle after it, smashing it against the rear window and sending vodka flying everywhere.

“Shit, Nat… they’re not the ones who’ll get their ass kicked.”

Kevin muttered, gripping his backpack tightly. Nat just shrugged, already starting to run.

“Then you two better run too.”

Lottie was heading to school with Jackie and Laura Lee, in Shauna’s car. That was rare now — ever since Shauna got her license and Jackie decided she’d be her personal driver, the two of them had been going alone. Not because of a fight or anything, just… group dynamics. But that morning, they insisted on going together. Something about how they’d been a little distant lately. With exams, games. And, of course, because Lottie had been spending more time with Natalie than with any of them. That kind of petty jealousy between friends — more curiosity and drama than any real resentment.

“We were thinking of doing a girls’ night, the day before my birthday.”

Jackie said, cheerful. Lottie almost smiled. Jackie was probably the only girl she knew who didn’t spiral into existential dread during her birthday week. No crying for no reason, no identity crises. She just… loved her birthday. Stupidly happy about it.

“We thought about inviting a few people.”

Shauna added, in her usual tone — which always sounded like she was biting someone, even when she was just being neutral.

“Sounds nice. Do you know who you’re inviting? Or what you want to do?”

Lottie tried to sound interested. It wasn’t that she was bored — she just knew the script. Jackie threw the same kind of party every year, and Lottie was always invited, always reacted the same way.

“I was thinking Mari, Melissa, Tai… she’ll probably bring Van, as always.”

Jackie replied casually. Laura Lee asked about drinks, snacks, the practical stuff — sweet and helpful as always. Shauna parked the car, and they walked into school still in the middle of the conversation.

“Can I invite Natalie?”

The question came out naturally, but there was something underneath it — a quiet expectation, hidden behind the calm tone. Shauna reacted with an ironic smile.

“Are you two in love or something?”

A joke, obviously. But the sting was there. Lottie just shrugged, like she didn’t know how to answer. Jackie jumped in.

“You can invite her…”

There was a pause. The kind that says but without needing to say it.

“I just don’t get how you two got so close, all of a sudden.”

She said it honestly, and Lottie appreciated that. She sighed, trying to keep it light.

“I don’t really get it either. But… I don’t know. We get along.”

Shauna chimed in again, now with something sharper in her tone.

“You two seem… close in a weird way.”

It wasn’t an accusation. But it was. It tasted bitter. Lottie felt it. Shauna’s gaze was searching for something — a confession, maybe. Jackie nodded silently, and Laura Lee, as usual, didn’t know what to say.

Then came Lottie’s response. Quick, polished, but with a clean cut — the kind you give when you feel cornered, even if you don’t know exactly why.

“You know… just because you and Jackie like each other and pretend you don’t, doesn’t mean everyone else does that too.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Lottie wanted to swallow the words the moment they left her mouth, but it was too late. She’d said it with elegance, as always, but also with force. And she could tell — from the look on their faces.

Shauna and Jackie told her to fuck off, storming off with that performative drama they’d mastered, bumping her shoulder like a warning on their way out. Laura Lee lingered for a second, uncertain, and before she left, she said, almost in a whisper:

“They’ll get over it. Just… give it time.”

Natalie, Kevin, and John had managed to get away from the guys for a while. They knew that town well — the shortcuts, alleys, and backstreets that would take them to the nearest bus stop faster, where they could hop on the first one that showed up. Of course, they had to shake them off first, which took some effort, but they did it. At least for now. They knew it would be impossible to avoid them all day at school.

At lunch, Nat and Kevin were on alert, scanning from side to side. They’d hate to get food thrown at them or have something slimy ruin their jackets — the kind of childish crap the idiots at school thought was funny. They sat together, as always. Nat traded the pudding she’d picked up for Kevin’s milk carton — they had that habit of sharing food or stealing from each other’s tray every now and then.

But that day was different. Unusual, because at one point, Lottie Matthews joined them. As if it were the most normal thing in the world, there she was: wearing a delicate gray satin skirt, a black tank top just as subtle, her hair perfectly brushed and her makeup flawless, sitting next to two punk teenagers — with their grungy auras, heavy clothes, and radical thoughts.

Natalie looked at her, a little surprised, but didn’t say anything. She just made room.

“Why do you two look so… alert?”

Lottie asked casually, picking up on the strange energy in the air. As usual, Matthews tried to be careful with her words. Natalie could tell by the small pauses she made.

Kevin was looking at her like she was some kind of Greek goddess. Natalie kicked him under the table — it was almost instinctive — and gave him a look that said, “I know she’s pretty, but close your mouth before you start drooling.” He just looked away, embarrassed.

Natalie turned to Matthews then. For some reason, it was like she relaxed in that moment, forgetting for a second that, at any minute, a bunch of idiots could come after her.

“We’re running from some assholes.”

She said, not wanting to get into it. Then, casually, she grabbed Lottie’s bag of chips and opened it — she knew the girl was terrible at it, ever since that time they ate together on the bleachers. Natalie still laughed remembering how long Lottie struggled trying to open a bag of chips, nearly half an hour, until the blonde stepped in and opened it for her, in a small, delicate gesture.

Back then, Natalie might’ve wondered if opening packages was the only real hardship Lottie had in life. But now, thoughts like that seemed to have disappeared.

“Why aren’t you eating with your friends?”

It was just curiosity. Nat wasn’t kicking Lottie from the table or anything — just being direct. And, well, a little aware that the girl seemed slightly uncomfortable, though Natalie couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

“We had a fight earlier. Nothing big. I’m just giving them a bit of space before I try to talk to them again.”

Natalie noticed the awkward, almost shy smile. Lottie hovered around that kind of thought — like she wanted to say more but held back on the details. Nat recognized it — in the tone of voice, in the calculated pause, in the way Lottie seemed to pick her words carefully, almost rehearsing the perfect answer, the kind that left no room for questions.

She probably would’ve replied — said something more — if it weren’t for Kevin’s reaction upon noticing that Rich was approaching their table, clearly about to do something stupid.

But the moment he saw Lottie there, he seemed thrown off. He lowered the tray he’d been about to throw at one of them and gave an awkward smile, like his whole posture had crumbled. In that instant, Lottie Matthews turned into a damn guardian angel.

Rich fell apart right then, the moment Lottie asked if they could talk in private. From the look she gave Nat, it was like she instantly understood who had been after them — and was trying, somehow, to buy them some time. Rich agreed, like an idiot, running a hand through his blond hair and adjusting that damn football jacket. A walking cliché. He managed to be stupid and ridiculous at the same time — like he’d walked straight out of a bad high school comedy.

A few minutes later, Lottie came back, slightly unsettled — Natalie noticed it in the way she ran her hands over her cheeks, like trying to wipe off something invisible, and how she combed her hair with her fingers. She sat back down with them, graceful as always, adjusting her skirt and posture.

“He’s not going to bother you anymore.”

She said it in that usual calm tone. Natalie let out a relieved laugh, and Kevin sighed, asking what Lottie had done to make that happen.

“I told him I’d go out with him if he stopped messing with you.”

She gave a nervous laugh, a little distant — there was something in it that Nat couldn’t quite read. But she tried to pull the thread before anyone made a joke.

“And are you going to?”

She looked at her. The question came out quicker than she expected. It was genuine curiosity. Natalie knew Lottie had already turned that idiot down before, but she never knew how much it actually affected her. Maybe she had changed her mind. Not that it really mattered… it was just that… Rich was an asshole, and Lottie was way too good for him.

“Obviously not.”

Lottie laughed — part childish, part playful, part relieved. Natalie gave a small smirk too, feeling more certain about things. The mood was back.

“Why not? He’s not your type?”

Lottie laughed again and said, of course not. Natalie could tell she’d caught the inside joke — but forgot they weren’t alone, and Kevin ended up blurting out:

“And what is your type?”

He looked genuinely curious. Sensing an opportunity. Lottie glanced at Natalie — playful, a little shy. Her cheeks were tinged with a pink that Nat couldn’t tell was blush or embarrassment… or something harder to name. But she didn’t go deeper. Lottie Matthews wasn’t an easy girl to read.

“Hmm… I don’t know… let me think…”

She didn’t seem to take the question too seriously — maybe, embarrassingly, she was ready to turn it into an inside joke now with someone who had no clue. Natalie just let it happen. Amused.

“Rebellious, free, with a sense of humor… and style.”

Kevin straightened up in his seat. A clumsy smile crept onto his face. Oh no… he wasn’t—

“Maybe one day, Kevin.”

Lottie said, carefully. As attentive as always. She gave a light pat on his hand. A classic Lottie Matthews rejection: you didn’t feel rejected — you felt disarmed. That girl knew exactly how to get into someone’s head.

She was something else. Persuasive. Too charming to be a demon. Too tempting to be an angel. I mean… who the hell was Lottie Matthews?

Jackie and Shauna hadn’t spoken to Lottie since the day of the fight. It had been a week, and Lottie still wasn’t sure how to start a conversation with them. She’d hoped things might just work themselves out — but that’s not how it went.

Things weren’t like they used to be — back when they’d fight and be back together the next day, playing with some new doll or trying on borrowed makeup. Now it was different. Heavier. More confusing.

Laura Lee still came over to Lottie’s house. Sometimes, they ended up talking about it. Laura Lee always told her she should go talk to the girls. But Lottie hesitated. She felt unsure — maybe because she didn’t even really know why she’d said what she said that day.

She couldn’t just show up and say, “I said that because I felt like I had to defend myself, but I don’t know why.” That would sound ridiculous. But Laura Lee was right about one thing: Lottie overthought everything. And, as always, it paralyzed her.

On Tuesday, Lottie finally called Jackie. She wasn’t sure if showing up on Friday, at Jackie’s pre-birthday sleepover, with an apology would be the right move. So she just called. And Jackie answered.

Unlike Shauna — who always needed more time to process any kind of conflict — Jackie only needed an apology. That was it.

Lottie asked if they could meet. And half an hour later, she was already in her friend’s baby-blue room, sitting cross-legged on a bed covered in teddy bears.

The air between them wasn’t exactly tense. Lottie just didn’t know where to begin. She tried to apologize, but Jackie cut her off right away.

“You were right.”

She said it simply.

And Lottie froze, not knowing what to do with those words.

There was a moment of shock — not because of the confession itself, but because she hadn’t seen it coming.

“You know… about me and Shauna. We… well… we’re, like…”

Jackie seemed flustered. It was hard to say it. Hard to be there. A palpable tension lingered in the air. And Lottie didn’t know how to respond.

“We kind of started hooking up back during the sleepovers. But I didn’t want to like her. You know… she was my best friend. And I thought I was supposed to like boys. That’s why I dated Jeff. But I never liked him.”

Lottie adjusted her bangs, still unsure of what to say. She did what she always did: went with the obvious. But something about it hit her. Something she couldn’t name.

“Everyone knew.”

She murmured, lightly biting the inside of her cheek.

“I mean… not everyone. Just Tai. And Van. And maybe Nat.”

Natalie. Again, Natalie. The name lingered between them, bringing a brief, strange tightness to Lottie’s chest. She’d felt it before, but let it go. She didn’t want to spiral into thoughts that led nowhere clear.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Nat.”

The words came out before she understood why. She didn’t even know where she was going with that.

“We’re not like you two.”

She added, still carefully. Weighing each word so it wouldn’t sound the wrong way. Jackie just nodded, letting out a short sigh.

“I know…”

That was all. But it was too understanding. Unlike the old Jackie, who used to sound like she was accusing her of something.

“And I know it’s weird that we’ve gotten so close lately. It’s just that…”

She stopped. Like she was still trying to understand what Natalie was. Trying to make sense of that heartbeat. That quiet tightening in her chest. Maybe Lottie was feeling more than she admitted. But she hadn’t realized it yet.

“I feel like she can access a part of me. A part no one else has been able to…”

And that was it. Nothing more. And even though Lottie noticed the suspicious look Jackie gave her — a look that said more than her words — she chose to let it go. She didn’t want to overthink. She didn’t want to shove it back into that place where things start to feel threatening — and where she usually lashes out, sharp-tongued, like she’s trying to wound the first person who dares expose her for something she herself barely understands.

They spent the afternoon talking. About other things. The birthday party, the sleepover, clothes, and every other teenage topic light enough to feel harmless. It was nice. Tense. But somehow, partially resolved.

The scene was this: a bunch of teenagers packed into a tiny bedroom, smoking and drinking cheap booze. A messy card game was spread awkwardly across the floor. Van was sitting on the bed, casually leaning against the wall, lighting a joint, while Tai lay sprawled across her legs.

Kevin, in the corner, was carefully tuning a guitar, dividing his attention between the strings and the half-burnt cigarette dangling from his lips. Natalie was locked in a card game with John. He was good — but he cheated like hell.

They chatted about random stuff, the room filled with loud laughter, joints being rolled, dumb comments, and ongoing arguments about what song to play — while Kevin struggled to hear the right tone in the string he was tuning.

“Remember the last time we were all like this? Flex got hard outta nowhere after smoking a joint for the first time.”

Van started laughing, and the others joined in with a chorus of mockery. It had been a while since they’d had a night like this — not at Natalie’s place, and definitely not this chill. No pressure. School was over, no more practice or games to worry about.

“Natalie doesn’t even talk about Travis anymore… looks like she’s finally over him.”

John said it with a teasing tone, clearly trying to throw her off her game — she was about to win that damn match for the second time.

“That’s ‘cause she’s into someone else…”

Van said it with a mocking tone. Everyone turned to her with that collective, drawn-out “Oooooh”, waiting for the name. And that damn redhead went straight for it.

Natalie knew exactly what she was about to say — and there was no way to shut her up now.

“Caught her the other day, all kissy-kissy with Matthews at the store.”

She laughed, puckering her lips and making kissing noises with her fingers pressed together.

There was a stunned silence — wide eyes all around, and even a loud “No fucking way” from Kevin.

Tai was laughing uncontrollably, and Natalie threw the first thing she could grab in Van’s direction.

“I can’t even picture Matthews making out with Natalie… that’s, like… totally out of the equation.”

Tai was still cracking up, torn between shock and disbelief.

“That’s because we’re not, asshole.”

Natalie snapped back, trying to defend herself. Kevin looked like he was analyzing the situation, eyes narrowing like he was solving a jigsaw puzzle.

“Lottie likes guys, by the way.”

Tai sat up from Van’s lap and moved beside her, adjusting like she was about to spill some juicy gossip. Van kept that smug, teasing look, and John was still trying to process the fact that someone had just mentioned Natalie and a girl in the same sentence.

“Actually, it’s kind of hard to tell… ‘cause Mari once told me Lottie’s never even kissed anyone.”

Another surprise hit them all.

Well, apparently Lottie Matthews could actually be the untouchable type — or just a damn saint, because who the hell hadn’t kissed anyone by the age of seventeen? It wasn’t like Lottie Matthews was some weirdo like John. Lottie Matthews was fucking hot.

“Maybe she just has really high standards for guys.”

Kevin shrugged, strumming a full note on his guitar to make sure it was properly tuned.

Natalie laughed and shot back:

“You’re only saying that ‘cause she turned you down.”

She said, mocking him, and everyone burst out laughing.

Van let out a “this just keeps getting better”, and Tai added, through laughter:

“You’re brave, dude. Like… she’s taller than you.”

And everyone cracked up. There was no bitterness in the teasing — they all roasted each other, and that was just how it worked.

By late afternoon, everyone had left.Nat finally let herself relax. She’d had fun, sure, but sometimes she just needed a moment to herself.She was smoking a cigarette outside the store. Winter was starting to show its face — she could bet it’d start snowing any minute now.

Cars were piling up on the road, and well, the old librarian lady looked overwhelmed with a stack of boxes. Natalie decided to be a good Samaritan and help her out — and damn, those boxes of books were heavy as hell. She carried five in total. Said she could help unload them, if the woman wanted.

The library was tidy, cozy even. It smelled like old paper and incense. The lighting had that warm, yellow hue, and everything was quiet. There were more sections than Natalie had expected — the place looked small from the outside, but it was just narrow.It made sense why Lottie liked it. It felt like her kind of place.

After helping the woman unload everything, Natalie tried to head out — but the old librarian insisted she stay for some coffee and pick a book as a thank-you. She gave in. The lady’s cake was actually really good, the kind of thing that tasted like a grandmother had made it — or something like that.

Afterwards, Natalie picked out a book. She grabbed The Hour of the Star by Clarice Lispector. She obviously wouldn’t read it — it wasn’t really her kind of thing — but she knew someone who would.And maybe that’s why, because of a dusty, old book, she called Lottie Matthews again.

Lottie was waiting at the spot they’d agreed on. It had been sudden, but she’d deliberately said yes. She hadn’t expected Natalie to call so soon — it had only been a week since break started, and well, she’d already given up on the idea that they’d talk during the holidays, even if they had been building something close to a real friendship over the last couple of months.

But there she was, hands tucked into the pockets of her black coat, layered over a warmer white one. She wore jeans and had a giant blue scarf wrapped around her neck. A brown bag tucked under her arm.

Waiting for Natalie so they could go to a small amusement park that stayed open until the first snow — which would inevitably shut it down.

Natalie didn’t take long to show up, dressed in that way that was so unmistakably her — same old jacket, but now with a burgundy scarf looped around her neck.

She was holding something in her hand, wrapped in a hurry; the ribbon looked loose. She held it out to Lottie like someone giving a gift to a near-stranger — a little awkward, like she was saying,“I brought you this,” and then just hoping the moment would pass.

Lottie took it gladly, curious about what it was.But Natalie looked slightly thrown off, until she asked her to open it only once she was home — even though every part of Lottie wanted to tear the paper open right then and there.

She tucked the gift into her bag, and the two of them simply headed toward the entrance of the park.

At some point, they ended up holding hands — accidentally, like that time after the game-day party — but this time without any teasing, no joke to set it up.

It just seemed like a way not to lose each other in the crowd.

Still, even in a moment so practical, the touch was warm — sending a heat up Lottie’s spine that burned in a way that was strangely good, but also unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

They let go as soon as they reached a less crowded area.

The park was brightly lit.

Kids ran around chasing their last chance to play before the winter really settled in and shut the season down. Couples strolled by, sharing cotton candy, hot dogs — and the more eccentric ones dared to have ice cream.

“So, Miss Matthews…”

 Natalie broke the silence with her usual casual drawl

“Where to first?”

Lottie looked around. There were too many options, too many things to do, too many directions to kill time — and yet, Natalie, with that raspy voice of hers, was still the only thing holding her attention.

“Oh… I’ve always wanted to win something at that one, but I’m really bad at it.”

Lottie pointed toward a booth where boys were lining up to shoot. Some were trying to win prizes for their girls; others just stood by and laughed at the ones who were just as bad as her.

“You can’t be that bad, Matthews.”

Natalie said it in a way that made it seem like she genuinely believed Lottie might actually have a shot.

But that didn’t last long — because on her first try, Lottie missed the mark completely… and almost hit the vendor.

Natalie burst out laughing, somewhere between mocking and completely charmed. She even tried to help: carefully adjusted Lottie’s arms, corrected her posture, stepped in too close.

So close that the side of Lottie’s neck went warm again — that same good and uncomfortable heat — when she realized Natalie was practically wrapped around her.

They took the last two shots together.

They hit one — missed the other because they started laughing mid-aim, right as Natalie leaned in and rested her nose briefly on Lottie’s shoulder, mumbling,

“You’re too damn tall.”

It was a little disappointing not to win anything, but the moment stuck — as something quietly special.

When it was Natalie’s turn, though, the surprise was real: she hit all three targets on her first try, like she’d done it before.

She won the grand prize — a stuffed animal and two tickets for the Ferris wheel.

She let Lottie choose the first prize.

“Well… he kinda looks like you.”

She said, handing her the stuffed deer Lottie had picked. It was the smallest, the most modest one of the bunch — but also the prettiest. Honestly, the others looked a little creepy. Most of them were made-up monsters.

Lottie just laughed at the observation, holding the plushie in front of her face so Natalie could see better just how alike they really were.

They walked through the park, stopping by a popcorn stand and buying the butteriest bag they had.

They shared it, and at some point, started playing around — tossing pieces into each other’s mouths or trying to catch them midair.

They walked side by side, bumping shoulders and laughing at their own awkward rhythm.

Eventually, they made it to the Ferris wheel.

Nothing too remarkable — just the city glowing with streetlights and the headlights of cars, still busy.

Every now and then, they tried to spot familiar places like their school or each other’s houses.

Of course, they couldn’t really see anything — the city was too big for that — but imagination filled the gaps. Sometimes they even found places that were sort of close.

Later, they passed one of those photo booths — the kind couples lined up for, or that groups of friends tried to cram into just to get a strip of blurry pictures with half their heads cut off.

They squeezed in for a quick session. They had to improvise poses in a matter of seconds. And they did — exactly like that.

In one of the photos, Lottie kissed Natalie on the cheek. In another, they made goofy faces. In the rest, they flipped off the camera, flashed peace signs, and cracked up with the dumbest expressions they could think of. When they stepped out, they tore the strip in half: three pictures for each.

Still laughing, Lottie said,

“I want to see these stuck to your fridge the next time I’m at the store.”

And Nat, that usual crooked grin creeping in, replied,

“I’m sure you do.”

The first snow began to fall as they made their way back to the car. It was kind of funny — Lottie tried to catch a flake with her hand, and one landed perfectly on her palm.

They ran to the car, ducked inside, turned on the radio, and shared a cigarette in the parking lot before it was time to say goodbye. It had been a good night.

And when Lottie got home — just past midnight, past curfew — she opened the gift right away. She smiled at the book cover.

She didn’t know it, but it looked old, the kind of thing people didn’t usually go looking for around there. It smelled like dust and paper, which made her sneeze — then smile. It was almost contradictory.

Her chest felt warm in a way she didn’t yet know how to name. She opened it, and on the very first page — the kind of place people usually write notes to someone special — there was something scribbled.

Not a proper dedication. Just Natalie’s phone number, in that messy handwriting Lottie was already starting to recognize, and a short note:

Call me whenever.

Lottie grinned, wide. Eventually, she would call Natalie.

Maybe to ask her to come to Jackie’s sleepover with her. Maybe just to check if she’d written the number right. But she would call. Not tonight.Not tomorrow. Maybe Friday. But she definitely would.

Chapter Text

On Friday morning, Lottie called Nat. Still a little awkward, like—somehow—it was their first time speaking on the phone. Which was funny, considering she’d been using the phone way more than she used to lately.

Yes, Lottie called her friends sometimes. Yes, she made and received calls. But they were quick, practical. Just to make plans, give a heads-up, confirm something. Nothing that lasted more than three minutes.

But with Nat… With Nat, she lingered. Twisted the phone cord around her fingers, shifted positions every fifteen minutes, got mildly annoyed she couldn’t take the receiver with her when she needed to grab something from another room. With Nat, the phone had taken on a quiet, new kind of importance.

Sometimes, Lottie would sit near it just to read—just in case Natalie called. She no longer left it off the hook like she used to, back when she wanted to avoid Peter, Rich, or Josh calling again to ask her out. Now, she just left it there. In its place. Just in case… Natalie called.

She asked if Natalie wanted to come to Jackie’s pre-birthday sleepover that night. The answer didn’t come right away. There was a pause, a few seconds of silence on the line, until Natalie finally said yes.

Still, Lottie waited—quietly bracing herself for the sting of disappointment that would’ve followed if the answer had been no.

It wasn’t anything major. The question had been casual, simple even, but full of layers. She knew she and Natalie lived in different rhythms—and now, with the holidays approaching, it felt like their worlds were about to stop colliding again. Like the past few years, when they barely spoke, barely noticed each other, even though they’d known each other by face, by team, by school, by hallway, by name.

But now… now it felt different. Like, despite all the contrasts, the paths they walked were starting to run alongside each other. Not just crossing from time to time—but staying close. Parallel.

Natalie said yes. And that night, there they were. Standing together outside Jackie’s front door.

“I liked the book, by the way.”

Lottie said it, a little shyly, while they waited after ringing the doorbell. On the other side, they could already hear laughter coming from the living room—the other girls had been there for a while. The lights were bright, the clinking of wine glasses mixing with loud voices, arguing over some dumb game or a juicy piece of gossip, warming up the first cold night of winter.

“I thought you would. It seems like the kind of thing you’d read.”

Natalie replied, a hint of confidence in her voice—but something in the way she held back her sharp smile gave her away. The slight sway of her body, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her jacket. Her skin looked even paler under the winter night, like some kind of angelic vampire straight out of an old novel—maybe too gothic, too Victorian, with the smell of mold, aged cigarettes, and yellowed pages.

“So… does that mean you think about me?”

Lottie teased, a little shy, but already growing more confident in their dynamic. They were always poking at each other—and that was the thing—even if their styles of sarcasm couldn’t be more different. Nat let out a half-laugh, shaking her head in that usual, blunt, self-assured way. But Lottie noticed something different. A slight hesitation in the movement. A smile she was clearly trying to hold back. It was small. Subtle. A little too confident. But Lottie could see it.

“I’ve been pretending to tolerate you. Barely.”

Natalie replied in her usual raspy tone, giving Lottie a light nudge with her shoulder. Just a harmless bump between friends—but coming from Natalie, for some reason, it left a warm flush on Lottie’s cheeks and stretched her smile wider and longer than anyone else ever could.

Then… Jackie opened the door. She greeted them with her usual enthusiasm, hugging Lottie first, then taking the liberty—exaggerated, of course—of hugging Natalie. Who clearly wasn’t expecting it… but let it slide, forgiving the girl’s excitement.

This wasn’t exactly Nat’s kind of scene. Honestly, on a regular Friday night, she’d be with Kevin and a bunch of other idiots, hanging out in some closed-off park, smoking cheap cigarettes while trading band names, guitar manuals, and sips of something probably questionable. But there she was—at a rich girl’s sleepover party. A small miracle only someone like Lottie Matthews could’ve pulled off.

Still, Natalie was never the type to feel out of place. That was just her. She’d always been different, living on the edge like any punk teenager, but she carried herself with a kind of quiet leadership, a confidence that felt unshakable. A presence that didn’t conform to the space around her—it demanded it. She didn’t mold to the room. She just existed in it, navigating with a strange mix of dignity and raw authenticity.

And well… the party wasn’t just made up of distant acquaintances or teammates. There was a small redheaded mess right in the middle of the room—one that would later give Nat a bit of a headache. Not in a bad way. In a way that would mock her presence next to Lottie Matthews with irritating persistence.

“What were you two doing?”

Lottie’s voice echoed into the room, curious, polished, a little too graceful—in that magical way of hers that somehow always managed to draw everyone’s attention. There was something about Matthews that Natalie simply couldn’t figure out. Something in that natural magnetism, in the way she spoke like the whole room just naturally orbited around her. Like a prophet pulling in disciples with sweet promises and perfect words. Lottie Matthews was a goddamn Jesus Christ. Too spellbinding to ignore. Too irresistible not to follow.

“We’re trying to decide what game to play first,”

Jackie answered brightly, moving closer to Shauna, who was clumsily wrestling with a bottle of red wine.

Natalie watched in silence, her eyes lazily drifting across the room, until she offered to help Shauna, who looked like she was about to declare war on the cork.

“We were thinking about playing Clue,”

Mari chimed in, halfway through a slice of pizza and halfway into the conversation. Tai and Van sat nearby—same as always. Van looked completely out of place in that setting, yet steady, stuck to Tai like she’d follow her to hell if needed.

“Natalie’s freakishly good at that game,”

Van blurted out, making everyone glance her way. Natalie stayed where she was, calm, unmoved. She poured the wine with the same ease she lit a cigarette, unbothered. Then passed the bottle to Lottie, who watched her with a flicker of surprise—maybe even admiration.

“It’s nothing special,”

she shrugged, voice low, indifferent, so relaxed it felt like a joke in itself.

Someone suggested she and Shauna should face off, since apparently both were way too good at the game. But Natalie just smirked and went to sit in the circle, close to Lottie.

The night passed quickly, and at some point, things even got fun. There was a real showdown between Shauna and Nat over who could figure out the killer. By the end of the round, only the two of them were left, and the girls had to call it off—Shauna was getting way too competitive, and, well, it was pretty clear it would only end with two pissed-off girls, since they were both too good to beat each other. Lottie took pictures of the girls the entire time, like that was her designated role in the group.

Mari suggested they play a drinking game—wine, since it was the only thing Laura Lee would drink. But Nat suggested leaving the wine for Laura Lee and letting the rest of the girls handle the stronger stuff. Jackie took it upon herself to steal a few bottles from her dad’s cellar—whiskey, tequila, vodka. A cocktail of expensive, heavy liquor.

So they decided to play Never Have I Ever.

A dumb teenage game that always ended with a reveal way too dramatic to stay within that room—or at least not turn into a running joke for weeks to come. Stupid, sure. But fun enough to entertain. And Natalie was already there—she wasn’t gonna pass up the chance to drink from one of those fancy bottles.

Jackie started it off with something like, “Never have I ever kissed my best friend’s ex.”

Everyone obviously drank. No one there would actually do that—or at least as far as Nat knew. Shauna hesitated, stared at Jackie for a second, then downed her shot.

Mari asked if anyone had had sex in a sketchy place. Natalie drank. Tai and Van did too. And so the round kept going. Laura Lee’s wine glass remained untouched.

Laura Lee’s question was, by far, the funniest. Everyone laughed when she said something like, “Never have I ever felt punished by God for cussing someone out.”

She drank. No one else did. But curiosity lingered—who had she cussed out? And in what context? Turns out, she’d called her piano tutor a cunt. Everyone laughed. For a long time. Way too long. Until the round circled back.

Van asked, “Never have I ever kissed someone.”

And that dragged Nat into another zone—another kind of conversation. Van was testing the truth of something Tai had told her a few days earlier.

No one drank. It seemed too silly not to have done it by 17. But then… Lottie filled a glass with whiskey and drank it. Natalie’s gaze followed her—like an entire world had just exploded in her head. Lottie Matthews was a saint. An untouchable angel. But too tempting to be ignored. Like she chose, carefully, the one lucky boy who’d get the honor of reaching her.

The game ended when most of them were starting to get drunk—right on that edge between clarity and ridiculous, uncontrollable giggles. At least most of them. Natalie had her own kind of tolerance.

They had to share something really sweet to cut the alcohol’s edge. And once it was dulled, they all crammed onto Jackie’s bedroom balcony—bundled in blankets, sitting on the narrow floor, watching the snow fall.

Natalie and Lottie were sharing a cigarette. Jackie and Shauna were pointing at stars in the sky. Mari was asleep against the balcony railing. Tai and Van were off in their own world. And Laura Lee slept soundly in the bed.

“So no one’s ever tasted Miss Matthews’ lips?”

She teased, with that half-smile, ready to provoke as she took a drag and passed the cigarette to Lottie. Matthews’ cheeks were red and the tip of her nose slightly frozen—adorable, like a child’s face in the snow. And somehow, that only made her more beautiful, her skin glowing against the cold.

Lottie just nudged Natalie with her knee, laughing. They were like that—sitting too close, knees tucked up, way too close.

“I’m not that desperate for it, Miss Scatorccio.”

A little smile followed—part casual, part restrained, part tense, part mysterious. Part Lottie. Natalie wasn’t sure how to read it. Not that it meant much… but Lottie Matthews was always a mystery.

“You’re not missing much.”

She murmured. It felt like the world had collapsed into a vacuum, like only the two of them existed in that moment. Like they were high on something insane that made time stop.

Lottie chuckled softly, the kind that showed her sharp little canines, a round, almost childlike smile. Something endearing. A lightness only someone like her could have.

“I bet I’m not.”

Lottie tilted her head slightly, a tender smile on her lips. Her cheeks still red, her brown eyes saying everything—and absolutely nothing.

Natalie took the cigarette from her hand, inhaled, then rested her head briefly on Matthews’ shoulder. A careless, automatic move.

“You know… you spoiled girls can be kinda fun sometimes.”

She said after a moment, leaving the last bit of the cigarette with Lottie.

“Oh God, just admit you had a good time.”

Lottie teased, voice light, but with a mischievous smile behind it.

“I’ve been trying to say that all night.”

They drew their feet closer together. Lottie leaned her head against Natalie’s—an involuntary gesture.

“You said you couldn’t stand me earlier.”

Natalie didn’t say anything. She just laughed. She liked these silent moments too—they were comforting, somehow. And honestly, she had nothing to say.

She just stayed. For some damn reason, she stayed there, resting against Lottie Matthews’ shoulder, feeling the girl’s head against hers. A little out of it. But alert enough to notice Van’s gaze on them. Natalie flipped her off discreetly. And that was that.

They stayed there until Shauna showed up with a yellow cake and pink candles for Jackie. It was midnight. They sang happy birthday, ate, and then went to sleep.

It had been two weeks since Jackie’s birthday. December was already halfway through, and everything was that usual Christmas chaos—trees going up, presents being bought. Lottie’s parents were traveling, of course without her. Something about business, something about not knowing how to handle Lottie. Or maybe just the trauma they still carried from her first episode on a trip.

Not that Lottie never traveled with them—she did, fairly often, for family occasions and during breaks, whenever she got a doctor’s note saying she was in perfect condition. The craziness came from her father. He was paranoid about having to institutionalize her again. Sometimes it even seemed like he wanted to. But he wasn’t a bad person—that was just his way of dealing with things. Of dealing with Lottie.

He was sentencing her to spend Christmas alone at home, but making up for it with a credit card, hugs, and kisses on the forehead before leaving.

Lottie wondered if her mother had told him about the last episode, or if he’d simply picked up on something. She didn’t know. She just knew she was there now, in a whole mansion to herself.

She wasn’t complaining. Sometimes she saw it as a kind of freedom. She used to invite the girls over—they’d mess up the kitchen trying to bake a decent chocolate cake or go out bowling. Sometimes they’d go ice skating when the mood struck. But now that was over. Christmas meant Jackie had to be off somewhere with her family, Shauna the same, and Laura Lee had some kind of religious retreat this time of year that Lottie never quite understood—but she definitely didn’t want to spend Christmas fasting or something like that.

She spent her time between the pages of the book Natalie had given her. She liked the story. It felt like Nat had picked that title with care, like she’d read between the lines. And somehow, that made Lottie feel exposed—like Natalie saw more of her than anyone ever had. Like someone peeking through the cracks in a window.

It was as if that blonde, punk, awkward girl could see the fragile thread Lottie had with the world, with her own desires, with time itself. As if Natalie sensed—however distorted—that there was a fragility in Lottie. One often masked by a certain glamor.

And around Natalie, she felt she didn’t necessarily need to keep up the performance. That even poised, elegant, immaculate… she could still be full of anxiety, of fears, of desires she didn’t let herself name, didn’t let herself show. But somehow, Natalie saw them. And mocked them in her own way, like someone pretending not to care—while actually caring a lot.

There was a burnt feeling in her chest. Something unfamiliar. Like the connection between them—so different, yet slowly growing stronger.

They were friends. Lottie could say that now. She could say that girl, once just a classmate, now held a different space. That of a real companion. Someone Lottie liked spending time with. Someone she thought about when there was nothing else left to think of.

Sometimes, when she wasn’t lost in the pages of a book, playing an instrument, or watching something, Lottie let herself drift toward Natalie. A little more consciously.

That day, earlier, she had gone to the film shop—to buy a few more rolls and get some developed from Jackie’s birthday and the occasional outings with the girls. It took a while to get them all developed, but she didn’t mind. She liked wasting time deciding which rolls to use next: which would be in color, which in black and white, what brand, what ISO. A true amateur photographer.

Lottie liked to document moments. Even though it was just a hobby, she held on to the idea of deeply knowing the things she loved—like a true devotee of even the smallest details.

Later that afternoon, she gathered all those photos. Storing them required a special kind of curation. Intimate. Almost ritualistic.

She decided which would be glued into her old journal, which would go in the keepsake albums, and marked each one with the date it was taken.

Shauna, Jackie, and Laura Lee showed up often in Lottie’s photographic memories. Laura Lee especially—pages and pages going back to when they were kids, rolling in the grass, noses adorably smeared with ice cream.

But there was another presence now. A more modest one, yes, but with something undeniably special.

Natalie.

It wasn’t a childhood connection like Laura Lee. Or a preteen friendship like Jackie and Shauna.

It was something that hit a still-unnamed place. A raw, recent connection—but in some way, a meaningful one. In a way Lottie didn’t fully understand yet.

Memories — Lottie and Nat

A photo by the lake with my rough, cool, and kind Natalie. 11/20/1996

That’s how Natalie’s pages began. And they followed with a sequence of photos stretching from the beach, to the record store, to the amusement park where Lottie had kissed her cheek, and Jackie’s birthday.

A modest sequence compared to the other girls—but still, a nearly exclusive part of that photo journal.

There weren’t any grand reflections. No deep thoughts about using a possessive pronoun to highlight my Natalie. But it was there.

Imperceptible, in Lottie’s quiet way.

Natalie spent most of her holidays split between the duties at the shop and casual outings with her friends. At night, they’d go to garage band shows—some actually pretty good, with solid sets and members who might one day become successful musicians… or miserable dentists running sad little clinics.

Others sucked. Like, really sucked. Off-key, out of sync—but they tried to make up for it with a booze-and-weed combo almost as questionable as their music. Still, it was fun. Natalie’s friends usually huddled in a circle and shared random conversations that got increasingly crooked as everyone got more stoned.

Sometimes, a few of them would make out in the bathroom or in the corners of garages and warehouses—just to drown out the offbeat punk rock pounding in their ears, or simply to have fun. Nothing real. No deep feelings involved. Natalie kissed a guy or two sometimes, too.

They’d party through the nights. Other times, they just played cards at the shop, killing time. There was a sense of calm and ease to that time of year—the last two had been like that for Natalie. Especially now that she wasn’t stuck cleaning out the piles of empty bottles in her drunk mom’s rusty old trailer.

Even so, she still made a point of mailing her mom a Christmas card with a tiny bit of cash. She knew full well the woman would probably just use it to buy cheap beer.

Kevin played his hand—a nice spread of spades. Natalie would’ve been screwed if her cards hadn’t been better.

“I think this is, by far, the best holiday break,”

Kevin said, slouched in his chair with his feet up on the shop counter. They had already closed up. They’d been closing early since winter hit and kept warm with shots of vodka… or coffee and hot chocolate on the healthier days.

“I think summer break still wins. These ones just feel longer. Probably ‘cause the weather sucks.”

She knocked his feet down and laid down her three-of-a-kind and a flush. Smirked when she saw Kevin’s face fall as he realized he’d lost. Natalie was good at bluffing, anyway.

She pocketed the ten bucks they’d bet on that round.

That was pretty much how the week went. Kevin showed up at the shop every single day like a damn tick, and Natalie couldn’t do much but accept it.

Sometimes they’d go out just to see what the idiots were doing on the snow-covered skate park. Obviously, they weren’t part of that crew—but they did like to design a few stickers to sell for jacked-up prices.

With the easy money they made off bored wintertime skaters—guys who couldn’t do much besides fix their boards, buy new wheels, and smoke joints until spring—Natalie and Kevin bought tickets for the early screening of Scream.

They were excited about it. That was until Kevin’s parents decided to drag him off on some year-end family trip and left her with two tickets.

She actually thought about selling them. But later that night, the photo of Lottie Matthews stuck to the fridge—held by a little rock-n-roll penguin magnet—caught her eye.

And then, without really thinking, she dialed Matthews’s number. Didn’t even need to check it. She just… knew it.

When Lottie arrived at the theater, Natalie was already waiting. It couldn’t have been later than seven. The line was massive—tons of teens piling up to exchange tickets or grab buckets of popcorn. Natalie looked like she was fighting a battle to get hers, along with two sodas that barely fit in her hands—but somehow, she managed.

“I’m here,”

Lottie said quickly, ignoring the annoyed voices of a few guys accusing her of cutting the line. But when they saw her—or at least realized she was just helping a friend—the looks softened. Awkward, slightly dumb smiles flickered and turned away.

She brushed her bangs from her face as the two of them walked side by side toward the screening room. Lottie wore a gray overcoat; Natalie, her classic black jacket. They looked almost too comfortable. Warm from their coats—or maybe from the moment itself. Lottie’s cheeks were flushed.

“I fought my way through a battlefield out there and you just stroll in with that stupid little smile? Seriously, Lottie… who even are you? Aphrodite at the Trojan War?”

Natalie teased, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She was clutching the giant popcorn bucket she’d gotten for them, looking secretly proud of the achievement. And, of course, helping herself to a handful before they even stepped inside.

Lottie didn’t react right away. In fact, she never really knew what to do in these moments when Natalie pulled her in and pushed her away with that typical sharp wit. She liked it. But she also, honestly, didn’t know why.

Her chest would warm up, her hands felt like they got hit with a tiny electric jolt. She knew she was smiling, but didn’t quite understand the reason—not really. And she definitely couldn’t tell if Natalie was calling her pretty or a cheat just now. So she let it slide. Like she always did.

They sat together, side by side, in what Natalie insisted was the best spot in the theater for sound—dead center. That’s where, according to her, the speakers hit the perfect balance. Something about having overly sensitive ears. Lottie just went along with it, a little impressed. Honestly, she’d never even thought about that kind of thing. She usually picked the back rows—and often ended up stuck behind annoying teenage couples who cared more about kissing than watching anything.

The movie was fun in its own way. Brutal humor, irony—a perfect satire. And Lottie could swear Natalie would write something like that without blinking. She remembered Nat saying she wasn’t a huge horror fan, but Lottie figured that didn’t include slashers dripping with blood and sarcasm. The ones with a bit of chaotic comedy. The kind that made fun of their own genre.

They shared the bucket of popcorn, resting on Natalie’s lap and tilted toward Lottie. Sometimes her hand would reach in and brush against Natalie’s. Shoulders touched. Elbows almost bumped. And at some point during the movie, Natalie just rested her head on Lottie’s shoulder. Just like she did at Jackie’s birthday, when they’d smoked in the dark. It wasn’t different. But it was.

The heat rose up Lottie’s neck. She could swear she felt the blood rushing straight from her arm to her head—if that was even a thing. But she just smiled. And let it happen. Let herself stay there, in that small pocket of comfort.

After the movie, they left the theater all excited like any other teen who had loved a film too much not to talk about it. They laughed, talked over each other, buzzing with energy. Natalie pointed out her favorite scenes, broke down Ghostface’s character, the role reversals, the games of manipulation.

They walked back to the car with their hands stuffed into their coat pockets, trying to fight off the freezing cold. Their ritual continued as usual: Natalie turned on the radio and let it play whatever station felt right for the moment. Somehow, she always nailed it—as if she had a weird gift for perfect soundtracks, even without choosing the song.

“Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star was playing softly in the car, filling the silence between them with a light, almost sweet melancholy. But this time, they didn’t roll down the windows to smoke. It was too cold. Cold enough to make their noses sting, and Lottie could swear Natalie had tiny freckles that only showed up on nights like this.

Lottie was driving Natalie home when, out of nowhere, she asked her to pull over near a closed park. Lottie frowned, confused. But she obeyed. Natalie jumped out of the car right away, while Lottie stayed behind, still unsure, until Natalie showed up by the driver’s side door, a wide, almost childlike grin lighting up her face.

“I wanna show you something.”

That look—light, impulsive, so unlike her usual self—made Lottie chuckle softly before stepping out of the car. Still, she couldn’t help but warn:

“The park’s closed, Nat…”

“Oh, shut up,”

Natalie replied playfully, grabbing Lottie’s hand. They slipped in through a hole in the fence hidden by bushes. Natalie let go of her hand soon after and sat on the first bench she saw, saying nothing.

“The security guard might catch us,”

Lottie whispered, still standing, a bit serious. But Natalie just motioned for her to be quiet.

And then Lottie understood.

A small family of raccoons was slowly making its way out of the trees, exploring the dark, empty field. Hidden. Quiet. Lottie’s eyes widened and, without thinking, she sat beside Natalie. Her hands in her lap, still speechless.

“What are they doing here?”

She whispered, as if sound might scare them away. Natalie shrugged, a soft smile on her face.

“I dunno. They’re just… here.”

Lottie smiled. And they stayed like that for a while, watching the little bodies move through the dark like they were in another world.

Their hands got close. Then closer. Until they were warming together. Fingers entwined almost without noticing. A soft instinct—for warmth, for comfort against the freezing cold and their glove-less hands.

They lit a cigarette. Let the smoke warm their lungs for a few minutes. Then they went back to the car. And said goodbye.

Natalie had been calling Lottie more and more. Not super long calls, but definitely longer than anything they’d shared before. Maybe it was because they were alone. Maybe because it was Christmas week and everyone else only had time for their own. Maybe because they liked sharing little pieces of their day. Or maybe… maybe because there was nothing better to do.

Her phone rang again. That was odd—they had just hung up, just said goodbye. Why would Matthews call back? And why was she acting like Matthews was the only person in the world with her number?

She answered. And the first thing she heard on the other end was a soft laugh—shy, charming, almost childlike… followed by an equally sweet voice:

“I just wanted to say hi again.”

Natalie let out a surprised little laugh through her nose, hit by that familiar warmth that always came with Matthews—whether she was near or just a voice on the line. She leaned against the wall, biting the corner of her mouth like she was unconsciously trying to hide from Lottie just how much she was smiling. Even if Lottie couldn’t see her.

“It’s midnight,”

She said, half amused, just to point it out. They had just hung up. They had just said goodnight, twirled the cords of their phones for minutes, stretching the call—and the phone bill. But Lottie had called just to say “hi” again. And here they were again: twisting their phone cords, trying to hide their smiles from each other—even though deep down, they both knew exactly what kind of smile the other had on.

“Merry Christmas, Nat.”

Lottie said from the other side of the line, lighting something in Natalie’s chest—because this girl hadn’t just called to say hi. She had remembered it was Christmas.

“Merry Christmas, Lottie.”

Chapter Text

On Christmas morning, Natalie decided to keep the store closed. She had her own rituals.

Make some coffee, spike it with something questionable—usually an energy drink—because it kept her awake on a cold day when people gathered in some strange warm spirit, and kids ran up and down the sidewalks throwing snowballs at each other, building stupid snowmen that almost always ended up lopsided.

Natalie liked that part. Sometimes she’d step outside just to watch them compete over who could make the best one, casually smoking, exhaling a mix of cigarette smoke and warm breath that turned visible in the freezing air.

The bolder kids would come closer and ask her dumb questions—questions Natalie would make a point of answering with even dumber lies, leaning into her creativity. It was fun. Because, well… kids really could believe she was a soul-eating vampire who had moved to town because she was being hunted by the FBI. Ridiculous, creepy, totally unreal. But it was hilarious to see their eyes go wide, their follow-up questions getting even more absurd than the lie itself.

The cockier ones—definitely Nat’s favorites—would ask for a drag of her cigarette. Bold move. But she still had some level of conscience, so her answer was always a flat-out “no,” sometimes even a bit rude. Then she’d try to smooth it over by complimenting one of their ridiculously crooked snowmen and suggesting it would look better if it were more extravagant.

She also made the most of her time alone in the store, listening to the records she’d bought while drinking something warm, feet propped up on the counter. Something Kevin would definitely complain about—except, well… the store was hers. The rules didn’t really apply.

Music played softly in the background from the record player. Natalie examined the album cover carefully as she took another drag. The black coffee beside her, steady and bitter like a good companion.

“Be My Angel” by Mazzy Star was the kind of song Natalie would actually listen to the lyrics of that morning.

That is, of course, until Lottie Matthews suddenly appeared at the door — holding a white box full of sweets and wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas sweater, the kind with an embroidered initial Natalie never would’ve pictured her in.

Still… there was something about her. Almost ethereal.

The skirt that hugged her just right, the knee-high boots giving away her height, the perfectly blown-out hair. Too neat to be real, even with snow speckled in between the strands, dancing in the cold wind.

“What the fuck is this?”

Natalie said as she opened the door, a stupid grin forming on her face—half surprised, half enchanted—at the sight of Lottie standing there, her hair dusted with snow… and still looking almost angelic.

“Should I have called first?”

Lottie asked, her tone hesitant. The kind of hesitation that gave away more than she probably meant to—like she cared a little too much about having invaded someone’s space. It sounded overly polite, overly proper, true to her classic demeanor. She bit her lower lip lightly, moisturizing it in a distracted gesture, and tilted her head to adjust her bangs, even with her hands full.

Natalie let out a small smirk, laced with her usual sharpness.

“Didn’t think you were the ugly sweater type.”

She teased, opening the door wider and stepping aside, letting Lottie in. She watched with interest as she crossed the threshold, instantly filling the space with that magnetic presence. She walked over to the counter, gently set down the box, then turned around and leaned against it lazily—but still with her innate grace.

“I like this song.”

She said with a soft tongue click, as if approving the choice. And somehow, that snapped Natalie back to the present. She stepped closer, standing in front of Lottie for a moment before glancing down at the box on the counter.

“I brought some cookies, pie, biscuits… coffees. And Christmas movies.”

Matthews announced with a hint of pride in her voice, like she was allowing herself, just for a moment, to break out of her usual composure. Maybe Christmas gave her permission. Natalie found it odd, but kind of… charming. Like there was something in Lottie’s quiet enthusiasm that she didn’t understand—and for that very reason, wanted to.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at the box, the sweets, the smile Lottie was trying to hide. Then she said, in a tone lighter than she expected:

“Thanks. I wasn’t gonna cook shit anyway. So I guess you’re my fucking Christmas angel.”

Lottie just laughed, feeling a gentle warmth spread through her chest. There was something about the way Natalie spoke—something in the casual way she called her an angel—that stirred something in her she couldn’t quite explain.

She didn’t exactly know what had made her leave the house and head over there. She just did. Without overthinking. Without worrying about whether she’d look like a stalker showing up unannounced in front of the girl. Maybe it was about connection. About that thing that happens when you meet someone, get close, open up… and suddenly feel like you can do impulsive things, and it’s okay.

But at the same time, it felt strange. Because she didn’t feel that way with anyone else. Had never felt that way before—at least not like this. This desperate kind of feeling, but also good. This urge to be near someone for no reason at all, with no explanation needed.

Maybe that was what set Natalie apart.

What made Lottie just as curious as she was cautious. Curious about the nature of whatever this was growing between them. Cautious enough to stay on the edge, observing, trying not to fall in all the way.

It was unfamiliar. A kind of friendship born from wildly different worlds, from meanings that seemed opposite—but somehow found each other.

Lottie felt like Natalie saw her beneath it all. Like a mirror that reflected without invading, that offered ease without trying to wedge its way through cracks.

And she also felt like she could see Natalie differently. As if, even with all the sarcasm and the shyness masked as insolence, there was a secret language there.

Natalie meant something Lottie didn’t have a name for yet, but she felt it. So intensely and quietly that it became impossible not to orbit each other.

“I brought you an ugly sweater.”

Lottie said, pulling a navy-blue sweater out of her bag with a huge golden “N” stitched in the center. She smiled as she handed it over, while Natalie—wearing a mocking expression—bit into one of the carefully shaped gingerbread cookies.

“I’m not wearing that.”

She replied indignantly, her pout firm. A harsh face, but soft. Stubborn. Childish. Adorable, in Lottie’s eyes. Her green eyes narrowed like a grumpy kid’s. And in that moment, Lottie saw a new kind of sweetness emerge through Natalie—one usually hidden beneath the punk, unbreakable, untouchable exterior.

Lottie laughed. Told her she bet she’d end up wearing it. And well… half an hour later, Natalie was.

“I swear I’m planning revenge for this, Matthews.”

The whole thing was, at the very least, hilarious. Something Lottie never imagined witnessing—much less starring in.

There was something different about her since she’d started seeing more of Natalie. It was like she’d become lighter… and at the same time, less. Less rehearsed. Less restrained.

With Natalie, she felt like she was discovering new parts of herself—but also reclaiming pieces she thought had been forgotten. Like everything about her was being drawn out, little by little, by this still-undefined figure… already present in a way Lottie didn’t want to lose.

And deep down, she feared that one day she might.

“What are you gonna do? Egg my house and TP the yard? Like some angsty teen from a movie?”

Lottie tried to keep the energy of the moment, holding onto the sarcasm. But Natalie… Natalie was definitely better at it. She had that. That thing that was just hers. She moved through it all with an ease that was almost annoying, brows slightly raised, a rude smile softened by the dimples in her cheeks and the slightly rounded teeth. Her green eyes held a sharp glint, a blade of sarcasm, outlined in the black eyeliner that had become a kind of signature.

“You’ve got some excellent ideas, princess.”

She scoffed, with that effortless kind of lightness that only she could pull off. Lottie knew that if she tried saying something like that, she’d laugh halfway through. She’d break under her own shyness, blush, stumble over the words.

But not Natalie.

She gave herself away, sure, but in a quiet way—a sideways chuckle, relaxed shoulders, like nothing ever truly surprised her. Like the whole world was already predictable, and still… kind of amusing. It was just Natalie. Being the purest version of herself.

Two days later, Lottie woke up to Lucy’s voice calling her. Something far away, like an echo distorted by water and cold:

“Miss Matthews… aren’t you freezing?”

She was standing in the shallow end of the pool at home. The heating system kept the water warm, but everything around it was frozen—the lawn covered in snow, even though the groundskeepers did their best to clear it every day.

Lottie didn’t answer right away.

Something felt strange—either about the moment, or about herself. She’d been there for over half an hour, motionless, staring into absolute nothingness. Out of herself, out of time.

When she finally got out of the pool, Lucy was waiting with a towel. Lottie took it, even knowing it wouldn’t make a difference: she was soaked to the waist. Her pink striped pajamas clung to her like a cold second skin.

No words were exchanged.

Her parents weren’t home. They wouldn’t be back until after New Year’s. Sometimes they sent postcards and pictures from important events, always smiling neatly into the frame, always with that distance that had become familiar.

Lottie crawled into bed. Wrapped herself in a heavy blanket while the consequences of her brief aquatic daze settled in with trembling. Lucy brought a steaming cappuccino, along with fruit and sandwiches. The drink helped warm her up—from the inside, at least a little.

Natalie called that same day. The conversation was short. But the next day… she was there.

Sitting by the bed, hand on Lottie’s forehead, checking her temperature with the same ease and care she used when handling her vinyl records before placing them on the turntable.

“I thought girls like you didn’t get colds, Matthews.”

She joked lightly, and Lottie laughed—even with her head ready to explode. She liked this.

She liked that Natalie was there. And liked even more the way she didn’t seem to mind being there—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she was immune to distance, to discomfort, to exhaustion.

“Thanks for coming,”

Lottie whispered, softly, almost shy. She didn’t know if her cheeks were burning from the fever or from the warmth she felt inside. She felt the blanket shift slightly—readjusted with care.

“Don’t get all emotional,” Natalie replied. “I’m just making sure my name’s in your will in case you don’t make it through a minor flu.”

Her humor blended with tenderness. Lottie could feel it. She knew Natalie well enough by now to tell that behind the dumb smile, there was real concern. And honestly, she hoped that smile never left her face.

Natalie never imagined her winter break would end like this — lost inside a house that felt more like a maze: huge, full of fancy furniture, expensive paintings, and an unbearable sense of emptiness. And to top it all off, she was there with Lottie Matthews.

She had no idea how exactly she ended up there. It was instinct. A stupid impulse during one of their casual calls — days after she’d spent Christmas with her, as if that had been the start of some new frequency between them. It felt like fate. Or a trap.

They pushed and pulled at each other, yet something always shoved them back into each other’s orbit.

Natalie couldn’t say why she called.

She also didn’t know the exact reason she wanted to be there, with Matthews. But she liked her. That simple.

And even though she’d built up an entire fortress of caution around her relationships — like an emotional electric fence — Natalie felt herself getting pulled in by Lottie.

There was something about that girl that tugged at her.

It was pure awe. Like falling into a black hole — and Natalie, fortunately or unfortunately, had already been swallowed whole.

Now, she orbited her. Like everything else orbited her. Like the stares from dumb high school boys. Like anything Lottie touched and claimed as hers without even having to ask. Because Lottie Matthews didn’t ask. She had that. She just… happened. And Natalie resisted. Or tried to. Even knowing it might be a completely useless effort.

And honestly, they’d been the most offbeat days Natalie had ever had. Waking up next to Lottie during winter break wasn’t exactly a common occurrence in her life.

It’d be more likely for her to get run over trying to get home after some amateur band’s gig in the middle of nowhere than to wake up with that girl curled up next to her in bed.

Sometimes it was Lottie who clung to her during sleep. Other times, it was Natalie — cheek pressed into Lottie’s back or her entire face tucked into the curve of her neck. As if, in her sleep, her body instinctively searched for warmth. Or just wanted to embarrass her later by how clingy they’d become.

But they got over it — or just accepted that putting pillows between them was completely useless. They even got comfortable with their legs tangled up. So comfortable that these moments bled into the hours before sleep, too. Turned out Lottie liked to read, and Nat had said she didn’t mind if she did that sometimes, since, apparently, neither of them knew how to say goodbye.

So, one night, they just fell asleep together — and Natalie ended up lying on Lottie’s chest while the girl held an open book in her hands. Lottie’s free hand traced lazy circles on her back. The dim light, the cold outside, the warmth of the girl’s body… it was all too comforting for Natalie to complain about anything.

And Lottie always laughed the next morning, remembering how the girl had fallen asleep before she even got through the second page.

“We should go see Midnight Ball the day after tomorrow.”

Lottie said it while sitting on the bed, legs crossed. She was feeling a little better already — no more sniffles, no more fever. The heavy drowsiness had lifted from her body, and Nat could tell. Which was a relief. So… rich girls had immune systems too?

Natalie was mildly intrigued by how Matthews had managed that.

She seriously doubted Lottie’s parents ever let her eat dirt or roll around in the grass as a kid to build up antibodies or whatever.

It was hard to picture Lottie as one of those kids who always had dirty feet.

More likely, her parents had dressed her in frilly pink dresses and given her princess-themed backpacks to take to school. Matthews had probably been the kind of impeccably clean child other parents pointed to as the “ideal daughter.”

Natalie was finishing up getting ready to head over to the store. She needed to check in and — god — she seriously needed to smoke a joint ASAP.

But for some reason, she had promised the girl she’d come back later.

“I mean… I can drive and we could stay at my parents’ penthouse, near the avenue.”

She said it with that contained kind of excitement — the Lottie kind — but still, it was magnetic.

Matthews wasn’t the type to burst with joy, but she wasn’t apathetic or blasé either. She’d mastered this refined way of showing enthusiasm. And it was… annoyingly charming.

The kind of girl who gave tiny, half-suppressed jumps of excitement. Nat just watched her for a second, a few seconds — and, well. Of course the Matthews had a penthouse in New York.

“Well… since I’m stuck with you…”

She said it, trying not to smile too much at the whole thing. Her cheeks were probably raw on the inside by now, from biting down so hard every time that stupid, involuntary grin crept up because of something Matthews did. It was like a reflex to her power.

Later that day, Natalie came back, just like she’d promised.

And Lottie felt a little jolt of relief in her chest — something silly, like the way a kid feels when someone actually keeps their word.

Because, deep down, she hadn’t expected Nat to return. And because she didn’t, she’d made herself busy. It wasn’t that hard — her world didn’t always revolve around the girl with platinum hair and that ambiguous aura — somewhere between kindness and toughness — who, somehow, was Natalie.

But there she was. And there they were, too — Nat’s head resting in her lap, feet lazily propped on the bed. Lottie sat in the middle of the room with one of those cheap drugstore magazines that cost less than a dollar — the kind Nat had brought. Inside: astrology nonsense, band gossip, word searches, crossword puzzles, and a highly questionable self-awareness quiz.

They laughed at the questions but tried to take it seriously — for the most part. Even though Lottie knew Natalie wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face for long.

For someone made of pure sarcasm, holding it in seemed like a personal challenge. But Lottie liked that side of Nat, so she didn’t mind that they spent more time laughing and making jokes than actually answering the questions.

“What’s your best trait?”

Lottie read out loud, trying to hide a shy little smile while holding the booklet and a pen in one hand. With the other, she gently ran her fingers through Natalie’s platinum hair, focusing on her bangs — alternating between brushing her hair and lightly touching the soft skin of her forehead.

“Yours is that you’re super pretty.”

Scatorccio answered with a small, casual certainty, wrapped in her usual humor. Lottie let out a quiet laugh. Her cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and her heart skipped weirdly for a few seconds. She hid her face behind the pages of the magazine, as discreetly as she could.

“Yours,” she said eventually, “is that you’re the most genuinely kind person I’ve ever met. Not in a performative way. Not because you want to seem sweet. Not because you’re trying to be good. You just… are.”

Natalie said nothing. She just looked away toward some undefined point in the room. At first, it was something Lottie didn’t quite understand, but soon an almost immediate understanding struck her. Natalie had become shy. And, as hard as it was, this time she couldn’t hide it behind sarcasm. Not even for a few seconds.

A wave of satisfaction ran through Lottie — something about that scene gave her the feeling that she had managed to bypass the other’s worldview. It was as if, finally, she had caught Natalie by surprise.

They went down to the kitchen as soon as they felt hungry. Lucy was off that day, and the girls took advantage of the absence of the housekeeper — and most of the staff — to make a mess in the kitchen. They decided to bake a cake. One of those cakes that have more whipped cream and fondant than actual batter.

They tried to follow a recipe found in a book forgotten in the depths of the cabinets. But they weren’t exactly good at handling the ingredients — probably not the most organized girls to ever step foot in a kitchen. Quite the opposite. It looked like something straight out of a movie, the kind where the protagonists try to cook and end up with the counter covered in flour, broken eggs, and mountains of whipped cream.

Natalie put the batter in the oven while Lottie prepared the whipped cream. The truth was, the girl was eating more of the sweet stuff than actually whipping it — which was hilarious. And, of course, Natalie complained as soon as she set the cake in the oven. It would still take a few minutes for the batter to really bake, so she went to help Lottie — or rather, to mess around and laugh at how clumsy she was in the kitchen.

As revenge, the taller girl smeared a whole spatula of whipped cream on the tip of the blonde’s nose. Matthews laughed, amused and satisfied with what she’d done, while looking at Natalie, who was complaining like an old grump whining about life. Grumpy, sharp, and, surprisingly… kind of cute.

It was funny. Funny in a way that warmed Lottie from the inside. In a way that made her see sweetness in that girl who now tried uselessly to clean herself up but only ended up messier — like a clumsy child.

Instinctively, Lottie held Natalie’s face to help her. Now, besides the nose, she had whipped cream on her cheeks, on the tip of her chin, and on her Cupid’s bow — almost forming a mustache. How she managed that feat? Lottie didn’t know exactly, but she had a pretty good idea after seeing the girl rubbing her whole face trying to clean it up.

“I swear you’re gonna pay for this, Matthews. You’ll suffer twice as much with my revenge.”

Lottie just laughed, enjoying the moment, while carefully running her thumbs over Natalie’s lips. She watched with a lapse of unidentified tenderness — a pause that froze time for a few seconds, making her notice tiny details, like the scar just above the girl’s mouth.

The clichéd silence took over. Lottie knew the same impulsiveness she had in the record store was back. Something intoxicating. Something she couldn’t control or hold back, no matter how restrained she tried to be. Natalie was that to Lottie: someone who made her realize that despite all her discipline, she still didn’t know exactly how to master herself.

And the loss of control became evident — in the way she, without thinking and within seconds, wiped the tip of Natalie’s nose and cheek… not with her fingers, but with her lips. Small, vague kisses, placed softly on the smooth skin and the delicate tip of her nose. Absorbing the sweetness of the gesture, the skin, the whipped cream.

Her heart sped up. Her head went fuzzy. And Natalie — Natalie just saw her chance for revenge, with an almost mischievous smile. She grabbed the spatula and smeared whipped cream on Lottie’s cheek… and her neck, bare but protected from the cold by the house’s heaters. And Lottie barely had time to react. She barely raised her hand to wipe her cheek and Natalie was already there. Too close.

Hands resting on the counter, one on each side, cornering Lottie. Trapping her like only she knew how — and Lottie allowed it. No reaction. No breath. A wave of desperation ran through her veins — strangely, not in a bad way.

Then Natalie kissed her cheek.

Lottie exhaled. Heavy. Chest almost swelling. A relief that lasted just a few seconds, because Natalie’s lips started moving down. Wiping the whipped cream from her cheek until reaching her neck.

Lottie swore she could feel her warm tongue touching her skin, even if everything was brief, almost subtle. And she was there, frozen, paralyzed — but silently wishing it wouldn’t end.

Why?

Why not?

Natalie sucked the whipped cream, and Lottie’s skin burned under the touch, under the gentle suction. The tongue passed to soften the sensation. And Lottie felt like breaking, melting. Relief only came when the oven beeped.

“Fuck.”

Natalie murmured, stepping back quickly. She grabbed the glove and took the cake out of the oven. It hadn’t burned much. Just a little. Lottie was sure the whipped cream would hide whatever was wrong.

The moment still spun in her mind. The feeling stuck inside her. The skin on her neck still gently burning. She sighed again, releasing the breath trapped in her chest, and tried to let it go. She didn’t want to think too much. After all… there was nothing to think about, right?. 

They were in the car, on their way to New York — nearly a two-hour drive from where they lived. Lottie was driving, focused. Natalie sat beside her, keeping her usual lazy princess passenger pose: feet propped up on the dashboard, arms crossed over her stomach, head tilted against the window.

Her gaze wandered through the landscape — the cars on the road, the city in the distance, the people on the sidewalks when they passed through narrower streets. There was something childlike in the way Natalie experienced these trips. She liked to stare out the window and just… let time pass.

The music, as always, was playing. It had become a ritual between them. And it filled the space with that quiet kind of comfort Nat had grown used to feeling around Lottie.

They didn’t need to talk. Just let the soundtrack play — as if their lives, even without a script, still deserved music in every scene.

Now and then, they stopped at gas stations. Bought sodas, chocolate, cigarettes. Got back on the road with crinkling plastic bags stuffed between the seats.

And they smoked. Sharing cigarettes in a back-and-forth rhythm almost choreographed between their fingers — a casual dance of drags, laughter, and glances that went unnoticed by them, but were deliberate and deeply felt.

Getting to the Matthews’ penthouse was still a strange thing to process. Lottie walked deliberately through the lobby, her footsteps echoing in a way that felt almost ceremonial, until she stopped in front of one of the staff — a man who recognized her instantly and, with a nostalgic, affectionate gesture, offered her a lollipop. She took it with a genuine smile and thanked him the way you thank an old friend.

“This is Natalie, a friend,” she said casually, before they headed together toward the private elevator that took them to the top floor. Up there, everything felt almost majestic.

Warm yellow lights, enormous chandeliers, furniture that was both sophisticated and classic. And of course, the glass wall stretching across the entire main room, revealing the whole city below them.

Lights, vibrant billboards in Times Square, car headlights slicing through the streets, the cold visible in the fogged-up edges of the window. Of course the Matthews would have something like this.

“There’s a view like this in the bedroom too.”

Lottie stepped closer, speaking with that restrained excitement that was so typical of her — almost like she didn’t want to fully admit how much it still amazed her.

Natalie just smiled faintly. No sarcastic remark ready, no joke to deflect. She was just there. Taking in the view. Taking in the moment. And definitely — even if she wouldn’t say it out loud — taking in the damn company of Lottie Matthews.

Later, they were walking through the crowded streets. Natalie held onto Lottie’s wrist — not her hand, her wrist — like she had to make sure the girl wouldn’t be swallowed up by the sea of people filling every inch of the city. It was strange, but comforting. A bit rough, a bit direct — but it said a lot without saying anything. They were trying to find the best spot to watch that stupid glowing ball drop from the sky.

That was it. Thousands of people crammed into the freezing streets of Manhattan to watch a lit-up sphere descend a few feet while a countdown made the world feel, for a few seconds, more hopeful than it really was.

They were too close. At some point, the wrist-holding turned into fingers laced together. Lottie was holding Natalie’s hands. They’d done it along the way, trying not to lose each other in the crowd — but now, even standing still, their fingers remained entwined. Firm. Warm.

The countdown began. The people around them stirred, shouted, and in just a few seconds, it was a new year. Couples kissed. Families hugged. Snow fell gently, dusting hair, coats, eyelashes.

Lottie looked at Natalie with a soft smile — the kind that showed her sharp canines and crinkled her small, dumb nose in a way Natalie secretly found adorable.

“Happy New Year, Nat.”

She said it quietly, before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. Then she pulled her into a long, warm hug. Natalie closed her eyes and sighed into it, letting herself melt in the softness of it all.

They stayed like that for a while — long enough for her to forget everything else.

“Happy New Year, Lottie,”

She finally whispered, into the girl’s wavy hair and the sweet scent she could never quite define. Lottie laughed. A melodic laugh, timed like every note landed just right — and Natalie felt it somewhere way too deep to ignore.

Later, they ran back through the sidewalks, hands still clasped. Dodging the snow and the guy they’d tricked into thinking they were of age — just to buy drinks and try cocktails with ridiculous names.

They laughed like idiots, stumbling through the slush, breathless from laughing too hard, until they reached the fancy front door of the Matthews’ building.

And it was right there, in front of that stupid, fancy door, that Natalie realized it.She was screwed. Because now she knew — with ridiculous, painful clarity — that there was no escaping the magnetic field of Lottie Matthews. Not even if she wanted to.

“Your best quality is that you’re completely unpredictable, impossible to read. You’re elegant, but not stuck-up; you’re sweet, but never fully given in. You’re reserved, but impulsive. You’re a fucking mystery, Matthews.”

Unfortunately, time moves on, and moments turn into nothing more than small memories—ones our brains seem to selectively keep, as if only those with feelings, with meaning (even when not fully understood), are worthy of being remembered forever.

That’s why Lottie liked taking pictures. She could freeze those little fragments, record every detail inside a single frame — like a form of care that demanded so much, because just like memories, photographs and film could burn too, in their own way.

January went by in a blur. Natalie and Lottie returned to their lives. Nat went back to her record store. Lottie went back to her Matthews life. Her parents had returned, full of news — most of which pleased them more than it pleased her, though she tried to be happy about it. Jackie and Shauna were back too. They had made plans to go to some stupid party hosted by a rich guy Lottie barely knew, though she had been to his house once or twice before.

But right now… right now she was focused on her little hobby of writing in a photo journal. In it, Lottie was pasting a picture of Natalie she had taken on New Year’s morning. The blonde was sleeping adorably, wrapped in her jacket, a beanie slipping off her head due to the way she was lying down. Her nose — sharp, delicate, slightly upturned — was dusted with freckles. Far too adorable for someone who managed to curse five times in every other sentence. But still, it was something Lottie genuinely appreciated.

Natalie looks adorable when she’s sleeping. She was the first person I saw when I woke up.

By the way, this is the first photo of the year. 01/01/97

She was about to paste another picture when her father walked into the room. He knocked first — just once — and then, a few seconds later, opened the door and stepped in, like he’d been doing since she was eight. As if knocking was just a polite formality, never something that required an answer. Lottie shut the book almost immediately and pushed it aside, heart racing, while her father crossed the room with those silent, measured steps of his.

But Lottie had forgotten one detail: the little photo booth strip that hung loosely over the edge of the desk like a trail of carelessness. It didn’t go unnoticed. Malcolm grabbed it almost instantly and examined it, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Who’s this?”

In the photo, Lottie was kissing Nat on the cheek. It looked a bit intimate, even though the moment hadn’t really meant much. Just a dumb, impulsive gesture — one of those tiny things that somehow stick. The expression on her face was unreadable, but still, a sharp, irrational fear climbed up Lottie’s spine like a cold blade.

“She’s a friend of mine.”

She said it as naturally as she could, though her body was still tight with tension. She could see a flicker of doubt in her father’s eyes — the kind that, in her, always registered as guilt — unsure of what exactly might be going through his mind.

“Do I know her?”

He asked, a bit firmer, like he was testing the ground. Malcolm kept a certain watch over Lottie’s friendships — not openly, but always there, lurking in the way he insisted on knowing everything: their parents, their last names, where they came from. He called it protection. Lottie knew it was surveillance.

“No… but she’s on the team.”

That seemed to light something up in him. He’d been to a few games and, in a way, felt proud of his daughter just for winning — or for being ridiculously good at whatever she did. The specifics didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was the best. That was enough.

“Oh… the punk one? She’s good.”

He said it half-distracted, half-displeased, but acknowledging  Nat’s talent. Lottie held her breath and brushed her bangs aside with her fingers, already nervous. She knew what was coming.

“Do I know her parents? What do they do?”

Lottie tensed, glancing around for any possible distraction.

“I don’t know… they’re Italian.”

She muttered. She wanted the photo back. She wanted him to leave. To stop looking at everything like he was always trying to find a crack in something that looked whole. But Mr. Matthews didn’t seem completely satisfied. He made a thoughtful noise — maybe, right there, spinning a story in his head about Natalie’s parents being some kind of Italian investors, or whatever nonsense helped him sleep at night.

“And what does she do?”

“She’s studying. And… she has a record store. I mean… as a hobby. Not a real job.”

She lied. She saw the shift in her father’s expression between one sentence and the next. Malcolm appreciated music, art — of course — but not as something to be lived. He believed everyone should know about art, be intellectually fluent in it. He made sure Lottie studied music, painting, literature… but only to be able to talk about it. For the right references, clever remarks at dinners and gatherings full of investors, art lovers, critics, classical artists. Nothing more. Never more.

“A big store?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

Lottie exhaled a bit. He sat beside her with that usual, weighty silence, and handed the photo back like he was doing her a favor.

“I know you girls can be affectionate with your friends. That’s fine. You probably talk about boyfriends more than anything else. Just… don’t go around acting like this.”

He gave her a faint smile — part proud, part certain of everything.

“Lucy told me about some strange things you’ve been doing.”

Of course Lucy would tell. Always his quiet little spy — discreet, devoted, careful. But Lottie, deep down, knew Lucy meant no harm. She was just… worried. Or claimed to be.

“I’m fine, Dad.”

She murmured, already tired of the conversation. She knew where this was going. She’d had this same talk with him for years — in different houses, different contexts, but always the same tone, the same conclusion.

“We’ve been in touch with a great psychiatrist in Switzerland. I think we should give him a try.”

“I’m fine, Dad.”

She repeated, firm, though her voice came out low, almost dragging. It was always the same routine. A speech about how he cared, how he was just trying to help. Then a kiss on the forehead, a warm embrace, as if that made up for the way he tried to control every inch of her life whenever something slightly fell out of line. It was so familiar Lottie could predict the rhythm of his breathing.

But surprisingly, this time he just leaned in, quietly. Kissed her forehead — with that same mechanical, rehearsed gesture — said it was all right, and left.

That was it. Nothing else.

Rich teenagers, loud music, cups of booze everywhere — and yet, a restrained atmosphere. Even though it was a party full of young people, it still had that air of exclusivity. There weren’t many guests, just the boy’s close friends.

Jackie, Shauna, and Lottie drifted through the dimly lit hall. Couples kissed behind curtains, pretending to be discreet, probably turned on by it. The girls seemed excited about everything, though Lottie felt more detached — from the dresses that might normally seem too short (and she was sure Jackie had picked out Shauna’s).

They simply walked around, greeted boys, danced by themselves, were pulled into short dances — obvious flirting attempts — but they were always gracefully declined by Lottie, who slipped away without fuss.

At some point in the night, the party began to thin out, leaving only those who truly knew how to enjoy the early hours. Jackie came over, a little too tipsy from the drinks and the shots.

“See… that one over there is Travis. The coach’s son.”

Lottie glanced sideways, disinterested, at the boy leaning against the wall with a red cup in hand. Close-cropped hair, dark jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a blue flannel shirt under a lighter denim jacket. He stood out a bit from the rest.

“He’s Natalie’s ex-boyfriend.”

And something lit up in Lottie — a spark of curiosity. She began to watch him more closely. Not with romantic interest, but trying to figure out what was so special about him. Maybe she stared too long, because he came over. Hands in his pockets. That reminded her of Natalie, but his shoulders were slightly tense.

“Hey…”

“Hey.”

She replied with a polite smile. Lottie was like that with everyone — always composed — but something about Travis intrigued her. They started walking together, drifting through the room while the other boys just watched, vaguely annoyed, as if hiding some subtle envy.

Travis asked if she wanted to step outside to talk somewhere quieter. And that’s what they did: just talked. At some point, the conversation took a deeper turn — about spirituality. A topic Lottie liked to muse on, drawn to the idea of human-made belief. She didn’t see herself as religious like Laura Lee, but she appreciated the thought of something greater, something beyond.

Their talk was interrupted when Mari came to drag them into a game some of the others had started in the living room. Something very teenage-like, as always at these parties. A glass beer bottle spinning on the floor. Seven minutes in heaven — or in hell, from Lottie’s perspective. But there she was.

The couples went into the closet, stayed for a while, and came back with swollen lips, smudged lipstick, wrinkled clothes, and sometimes even questionable bulges in their pants. Usually, the boys would cover themselves and try to change the subject when the whistles and dumb jokes started.

And then, one round, the bottle chose her. And — of course — Travis.

She was going to say no, but people started whistling and yelling that they had to go. Lottie stood up and stepped into the closet, followed by Travis. Maybe they could just talk.

It was dark, kind of dusty and full of brooms. They stood in silence for a moment, too close in the cramped space. And then Travis leaned in. Lottie held her breath, frozen by tension — but it wasn’t pleasant. It was confusion. What did Natalie like about him? Was it his smell? Because, honestly, it kind of scratched at her nose. Not exactly bad, but male cologne always seemed too strong for her.

Did Natalie like his kisses? Because his skin felt rough, even without a beard. Did she like the way his nose brushed her cheek? Because it felt blunt. Harsh.

And then, at some point, Travis’s lips were on hers. It was strange. It started slow, but Lottie tried to lean into it, as if she could find something there. Something buried. A pressure rose in her chest. And then a sharp, immediate realization struck her: she didn’t like it. She didn’t want boys. She didn’t want Travis. She didn’t want this. She wanted something else.

Travis pulled back when it ended, kind of quiet, and Lottie looked at him, stunned — though he couldn’t see. Her whisper was nearly internal, muffled, suffocated.

It had been her first kiss.

And all she could think about was how she wished it had been Natalie.

They stepped out of the closet. It was obvious what had happened — Travis’s lips were smeared with lipstick, slightly swollen, and Lottie’s were smudged. She could barely breathe. Her mind was foggy, her chest tight. She wanted to cry. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to rip it out of herself. But she couldn’t. She was crazy. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her, maybe it was a hallucination, maybe her illness had created those feelings around Natalie. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be.

“We could…”

Travis began, awkwardly. Lottie just said she had to go home. And she left quickly. Walked back alone, without Jackie, without Shauna — just a crushed chest and a new awareness. She didn’t notice the path; her legs simply carried her. She climbed up to her room. The air was thin. Tears fell. She wanted to die. She wiped her mouth. Wiped it with the same disgust she’d felt when Richie kissed her cheek. Now she understood. She understood the tightness in her chest every time Natalie did anything. The need to be close. The textbook definition of being in love, like in every silly romance novel. But there was one problem. The biggest one.

Natalie wasn’t a boy.

Lottie felt sick with herself. She wanted to tear her head off, the one that now could only think of Natalie. Her looming madness wanted to be touched by her, kissed by her. Her neck burned — right where Natalie had sucked and marked her.

She cried until she fell asleep, until she couldn’t cry anymore. Woke up with swollen eyes and a death-like feeling in her chest. The phone rang. And Lottie was afraid of who it might be. It rang and rang. And rang and rang. The noise irritated her. She picked up. And Natalie’s hoarse voice flooded her with an almost immediate warmth. Lottie hung up immediately. Took the phone off the hook.

She couldn’t.

She didn’t want to.

She wasn’t — but she was.

She was definitely in love with Natalie Scatorccio.

Chapter Text

Things didn’t seem to fit that week, as if a cloud of bad luck hovered over Natalie. First, her mom sent her some bills to pay — mostly rent charges from the old trailer where she used to live, before being kicked out by that bitter old woman, after a fight that not even Natalie could fully explain.

But things had always been like that. Since childhood, fights with her parents. Her father would hit her for no reason whenever he saw her playing with a boy. There was nothing wrong with it — she was just a curious kid — but for some reason, to him, that was a red flag. It was common to be kicked to the doorstep, slapped, shoved, dragged — all done with a strength and rage that made no sense. Always followed by the same sentence.

One that told her to give in, to cry. A way to inflate the ego of the one doing the hitting. But Nat… Nat didn’t cry. She wasn’t weak. She didn’t give in. And because of that, she was beaten even harder.

She got used to crying alone, after her father left or took out the rest of his anger on her mother — who was always drunk enough not to feel the strength of the slaps she got.

So, as she grew up, Nat found in music a kind of refuge — one that nothing else could offer. She learned to be strong, to walk her own path, learned that life was kind of like that — but could also be more than that. After all, Nat wasn’t made only of misery.

But that was her life. She tried to distract herself — drugs, booze, sex. All of it fed her, pulled her out for a little while, but never filled her with anything.

And even though she was surrounded by misfortune, she learned that she wasn’t just that. She didn’t want to be just that.

So instead of filling her heart with resentment, she just helped her mother in the best way she could. Not because she was a good person. Not because she had forgiven her. Not because she loved her.

But to show she was better — because guilt was the worst punishment she could give.

She also had a small fight with Kevin. Even though she knew neither of them was actually mad, it was one of those arguments that happen when someone drinks too much and starts getting annoying.

In this case, Kevin.

Because Natalie, even though she drank a lot, had a kind of control over her own lack of control. She knew when to stop. Knew when to use, when not to. Knew when she was too high for one more hit.

But Kevin didn’t.

And she didn’t really blame him. It was just something that happened — and had happened before between them. They talked, forgave each other. Still, it was another thing she had to deal with. 

And as if all that wasn’t enough, there was something else weighing on her — the biggest of all. Because maybe this is the one thing that echoes loudest in her mind: 

how much she misses the voice of Lottie Matthews.

Lottie felt a tightness in her chest, a pain that drained her from the inside out. And no matter how much she tried to forget—returning to her routine, doing the usual things—it wasn’t something that could be easily erased. It was a silent pain, persistent, eating away at her bit by bit, rising through her throat and spreading like a low-grade fever through her whole body. Her mind felt heavy, and sometimes she found herself staring at the phone off the hook, eyes fixed, as if it might answer on its own.

Had Natalie called her?

Did Natalie miss her?

Those questions swirled and lodged themselves in her mind like nails. But she couldn’t. So she swallowed the lump in her throat before the longing could turn into a concrete desire to act on it—to hear her voice, to know if she was also on the other end, thinking.

Lottie tried to drown the ache in routine. She filled her days with obligations, her minutes with noise. She tried to push away the thoughts—especially the deeper ones, the ones that whispered she was the worst kind of sinner. Because no. She couldn’t like Natalie. Not like that. That wasn’t right. It was madness. She was mad. It was all in her head, and she bet even Nat would agree.

But her efforts kept running into subtle cracks, sometimes disguised as discomfort: trembling hands, a faint nausea at the pit of her stomach, a tiredness that came not from her body but from the weight of repressing what she felt. She tried to distract herself with reading, but even that became a battlefield. The words blurred together, lost their shape, and her eyes welled up when the pressure in her chest grew too heavy to bear.

How could she like Natalie like this?

That was what she should be asking.But her thoughts kept curving back to the other side:

After all, how could she not like Natalie?

And at the same time, what scared her the most about this possibility wasn’t the fact that she liked Natalie. After all, Lottie thought anyone could like Natalie. She had that unique way about her — raw, but loyal. Sensitive in her own way, sentimental with a sarcastic edge. Emotional in a way that only those green eyes, sharp as razors, could show. Natalie was easy to like. She was completely captivating to Lottie.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Lottie felt that even if Natalie didn’t exist, the desire would still be there. The most silent, terrifying truth was this: Natalie had only brought to the surface something that had, somehow, always been there.

It was overwhelming to think it would still be like this. That she would still feel this way. Like Mrs. Dollaway felt about women. And like she… would have to choose her world.

Not Natalie. Not girls. Not desire. But the right thing. She had to be right. She had to choose what was acceptable. Controllable. Expected.

She went out with Richie like she said she would. First, because she wanted to prove to herself that it was all just madness. Second, because it was a distraction from the pain. And third — maybe most importantly — because she needed to forget Natalie. She needed to bury it somehow, even though the image of Nat was still so vivid in her mind. Even though the touches still burned on her skin like invisible marks.

Holding hands.

Kisses on the cheeks.

Hickeys.

An open mouth on her neck.

Long hugs.

All of it was still with her.

And even though she tried — with everything she had — she knew she couldn’t tear that out of herself. And, secretly, part of her… part of her didn’t want to. 

Going out with Richie didn’t work. He was boring. Tedious. Dumb. And gross in a way Lottie couldn’t quite explain. Not literally repulsive, but something about him — maybe something about boys in general — made her want to throw up. Maybe it was the strong cologne, or the broad bones, or the rough hands. But something in all of it stirred a physical discomfort in her. A reflex to recoil. Kissing boys, like she had with Travis, made her feel sick. Sometimes just thinking about it twisted her stomach. Going out with Richie didn’t confirm that it was madness — it only fed more into the thing she kept trying to silence. 

And now, lying in bed, she felt more than she wanted to. She tried doing what she had heard in teenage stories: maybe if she thought about boys while doing that, she’d spark some form of desire, any kind of flame that would reconnect her to what she was supposed to be.

She undid her belt. Hands inside her pants. Mind wandering over random male faces. But nothing came. Nothing sparked. Just an empty discomfort. Forced. It was awful.

Until her mind slipped somewhere else.

Breasts under bras — the girls on those dumb magazines hidden behind her dad’s office couch. Images she knew, even if they embarrassed her.

Natalie.

She wanted Natalie. She wanted Nat to kiss her. To kiss her neck like she had before. An open mouth against her skin. She wanted to feel her breath, her tongue, her texture, her warmth. She wanted it all. All of it, again. But guilt hit her like a sharp cut. A blow. She stopped. The knot climbed up her throat.

What was she doing?

She felt dirty. She lifted her hands like they belonged to someone else. As if they could prove, right there, what she didn’t want to admit. And then she cried. She cried because that was it. She cried because she knew, with a painful certainty, that she wouldn’t be able to run from Natalie forever.

And tomorrow would be the first day of school.

It was six in the morning. Natalie was walking to the bus stop while Kevin grumbled about being tired, dragging his feet like he might drop dead at any second. It was earlier than usual—way earlier. She was almost sure that by the time they got there, they’d have to wait at least fifty minutes before the school even opened.

But something inside her felt restless. Maybe it was the excitement of the first day back. Maybe it was the craving for another cigarette. Maybe—and more likely—it was the gnawing doubt about how Lottie was doing.

She hadn’t seen her since the New Year’s trip to New York. The one where they ran through frozen sidewalks, held hands down the street like the world wasn’t watching, and fell asleep together laughing at some dumb story she couldn’t fully remember. The one where Lottie had woken her up with an absurdly gentle smile, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder—over her jacket, but Natalie swore she felt them straight on her skin.

Maybe that’s why she felt so anxious. She wanted to understand why Matthews hadn’t answered any of her calls. Not that she’d called that many times, but… more than five, definitely. Until she gave up.

Maybe Lottie just needed some time. Maybe she’d gone off on some fancy trip with her rich parents and would come back talking about her unforgettable vacation in Paris, how many boutiques she visited, how many purses she bought. Dior perfume? Chanel No. 5? Is that what she wears? Natalie wondered with a trace of irony.

But no… Lottie wasn’t that shallow. Not with her. Natalie knew that now. She knew Lottie better. Still, the Chanel No. 5 joke—that one was staying. Maybe she’d tease Lottie with it when she saw her. Just to make her roll her eyes and get a little shy in that way Natalie liked so much.

Maybe that’s why a stupid smile slipped out as she lit a cigarette.

Kevin noticed. He nudged her with his shoulder, curious, asking what the hell she was smiling at.

She thought fast, deflecting. Maybe that was what she’d been doing most these days—hiding. So she just let out the first thought that came to mind, laced with sarcasm:

“Was laughing at how pathetic you looked yesterday, all smitten with that girl you saw once at a party.”

Half the classes dragged on more slowly than Natalie expected.

She always found all this introduction stuff boring — hated how teachers circled and circled before finally getting to what actually mattered. But that was the vibe of the first day, right?

Nothing a joint between periods and a few swigs of cheap whiskey couldn’t fix.

Sometimes, she slipped away. Wandered the halls, feet dragging lazily, eyes alert, pretending to be distracted. Maybe — just maybe — in the hope of seeing a five-foot-ten girl walking with her slightly shorter, but no less embellished, bodyguards.

And God… when did she get this invested?

Before, it felt a little easier to deny, to hide, to step cautiously on the ground beneath her feet — although the realization of things always hit Natalie faster than she liked to admit. But something about that damn weekend… something shifted.

Maybe it was when they ran through the streets of New York together.

Maybe it was when Lottie looked at her that way, right at the moment the clock struck midnight. Maybe that was when Lottie decided to let her effects take hold — and pull Natalie straight into the damn orbit everyone else already spun in.

Because everyone revolved around Charlotte Isobel Matthews.

And now, Natalie did too.

Lottie didn’t show up on the first day of school. Or the second. Or the rest of the week. It wasn’t hard to pretend she was sick — not to her parents, at least — though her mother was excessively concerned, coming in to check on her every so often, whenever she wasn’t at the club or out having coffee with her usual friends.

Lottie didn’t feel ready. Not to face school. Not to face her friends. She felt a dull, low-burning shame — as if everyone already knew. As if everyone was looking at her with the knowledge of a secret she had only just started to admit to herself. She had no idea how she’d explain things to Jackie and Shauna — not after the party. Even though they had called her house a few times or stopped by briefly, they were always told the same thing: Lottie was sick.

And as for Natalie…

She just couldn’t. She didn’t want to see her, even though her chest ached for it. She didn’t want to feel her. Didn’t want to want her — didn’t want any of it. Or rather: she couldn’t want it.

Still, she kept wearing the Nirvana shirt that belonged to Natalie. The one that had been going back and forth between them since the first time Nat lent it to her. It had become a kind of quiet thing between them — Natalie would lend it, take it back, and then Lottie would ask for it again — and it had just… stayed that way since the last time they saw each other.

Laura Lee visited her that day. The only person Lottie allowed herself to see. The only one she could bear. Laura Lee was oblivious to everything.She didn’t know what was going on — not really — though she could sense, somehow, the weight in Lottie’s expression. 

Still, she was there. Kind words, soft presence — a comfort Lottie didn’t ask for, but one that came sincerely, without judgment. Even if Lottie didn’t say a word. Even if she never would. And she wouldn’t.

She also discovered that week that if she took two doses of her meds instead of one, things hurt less. She felt less. Because her mind would drift — outside herself — and somehow, that made everything more bearable.

Lottie never thought she’d get to this point. Never thought she’d actually like the idea of numbing herself. Of silencing parts of who she was. She never thought she’d understand her father’s ways — and yet, there she was.

Doing it. Repeating it.

As if she could control everything by feeling less. As if feeling less was better than feeling this. But not better than feeling Natalie. Because deep down, that was what Lottie wanted most.

“What’s going on, Lottie?”

Emilia asked, gently stroking her daughter’s hair as they curled up together in front of the TV. They were watching some dumb news show, or maybe one of those BBC British dramas Lottie barely paid attention to. She was more focused on holding onto whatever little comfort she could find. These moments with her mother were rare — maybe even a little strange — but no less warm. Though right now, she was too far from herself to truly care.

“I don’t know…”

She whispered, exhausted — from the weight in her chest, the tightness in her throat, from everything.

Emilia kissed the top of Lottie’s head and pulled her closer, almost like she used to when Lottie was six or nine years old. Lottie let out a soft laugh.

“I’m not seven anymore, Mom.”

She joked, half giving in to the embrace.

“I know… you’ve grown up so much.” Emilia sighed. “And you’ve also stopped telling me things.”

Lottie rubbed her eyes, glancing toward the TV screen that she hadn’t really registered until then. Silence filled the room, broken only by the low hum of the news. For long minutes, neither of them said a word.

“I think Dad is right. Maybe I am sick.”

She said it in a hoarse whisper, staring blankly ahead. She licked her lips, swallowing hard, trying to force down the lump that had been building in her throat for days.

“Charlotte, look at me.”

Emilia’s voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade. Lottie hesitated. She felt her mother’s fingers grip her chin — not with violence, but with urgency — and she was gently forced to meet her gaze.

“Don’t ever say that again. Do you hear me? Whatever your father said. Whatever is happening with you right now. Don’t you ever say that again. Are we clear?”

Lottie just nodded. Emilia released her chin with a tense sigh. Lottie rubbed the spot, more from the weight of the moment than from the pressure of the touch. She watched her mother get up from the couch, mumbling that she was tired, that she needed to sleep, and then disappear up the stairs — leaving behind the interrupted warmth of their embrace.

I’m Not in Love by 10cc, was playing over the store’s speakers — one of the tapes Natalie shared with Van.

They had this thing. A constant, silent exchange. Van was into movies, so sometimes she’d trade VHS tapes in return for Nat’s music compilations. They made playlists together while recording the tapes, scribbling quick reviews of films and bands in a journal Van carried everywhere. It was huge — pages and pages of watched VHS tapes, listed, ranked, with meticulous notes.

Van had suggested Natalie do the same with music, a kind of musical diary. But Nat was way too lazy for that. She never had the patience to write about what she listened to. She preferred to feel it. Just hit play and let it happen. Record it in her mind.

They were debating whether to add Bound to their list. They weren’t sure if that or Fargo deserved a spot in last year’s top three, but Bound ended up winning — something about Van really liking that lesbian crime vibe. Nat found it secretly funny. It was cute, seeing Van so hyped.

“Next thing I know, you’ll be playing that dumb game — where you live, who you marry, how many dollars you’ll have in the bank,”

She teased, smirking at how childish the whole conversation had gotten. Van laughed out loud, already ready to fire back. And she went straight for a very specific Natalie nerve.

“Well… I bet you’d play just for the chance to marry Matthews and inherit millions from your little princess’s monopoly.”

She joked in that classic Van way: bold, irreverent, too playful to be mean. The problem was, it hit Natalie right where it hurt — deep, tender, the place she was still trying to ignore. Just hearing the name “Matthews” was enough to make everything come back. To make it all feel real again.

She didn’t answer. Just smiled, sarcastic, let out a soft laugh, and lit a joint. Took a long drag with the silence of someone feeling way more than they’d ever admit.

“Have you seen Matthews lately?”

She asked casually, passing the lighter to Van so she could light her own joint. The redhead raised her eyebrows, confused, her expression saying: what do you mean, have I seen Matthews?

“No. She missed the first week. I figured you’d know why.”

Van exhaled the smoke lightly, that last bit that lingers when everything’s already been inhaled — just dry heat left in the chest. Natalie took a drag with a sigh and moved to lean against the counter, restless.

“She doesn’t answer my calls. Doesn’t call back either. So I don’t know.”

She doodled a game of tic-tac-toe in the corner of the notebook, marking an X in the middle. Then passed the pen to Van and went to grab a beer for them both.

“Have you tried talking to Jackie and Shauna? Maybe they know something.”

Van suggested, making her move while Natalie returned, opening two cans of beer and taking a sip from hers — the joint still burning lazily between her fingers.

“I’m not that close to them.”

She replied, marking her move and handing the pen back in that boring game they both knew would end in a draw.

“But you like Matthews, don’t you? So it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Van said, making her mark and giving the pen back again. Natalie was quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in.

“Okay… you get me…Yeah. I like Matthews.”

She said it with a kind of carefree tone that felt a little rehearsed. Not like Van would judge her, and it’s not like Natalie cared enough to spiral over the fact that Lottie was a girl. She just liked her. Realized she liked her. And she was free to do that. Like anyone would be.

The next day, Nat didn’t talk to Jackie or Shauna — she talked to Laura Lee instead. Which was odd, because the approach hadn’t come from her, but from the girl who insisted on praying for everyone, even if it was just warm-up practice.

It happened right after the first day of training. Lottie hadn’t shown up again, which was already starting to stir a quiet panic in Natalie. But Laura Lee, with her annoyingly Christian manner, seemed to care enough to walk up to her and say that Lottie was sick. A part of Nat felt relieved — like it erased, even if briefly, that nagging intuition that Matthews was simply pulling away for no reason.

Laura Lee suggested it might be nice if Nat paid her a visit. Natalie pushed back, uncomfortable, but eventually gave in to the advice.

Now she was on her way to the Matthews’ house, holding a rolled-up Fleetwood Mac poster in her hands. Lottie had never outright said she liked the band, but Nat remembered. She remembered the day Lottie bought one of their records at the store. The old, faded t-shirt. And the time she played Never Going Back Again while they were doing that dumb quiz together.

Maybe she’d like it. Maybe she’d like it enough to smile — even just a little.

When she got to the front of the Matthews’ house, she stopped in front of the big white gate — fancy enough to look like the entrance to a damn castle. That’s when she saw Lottie. Sitting on a bench in the middle of the wide lawn, staring at flowers that were probably cared for by underpaid groundskeepers treated like movie extras.

Lottie saw her. She looked surprised, but also… melancholic. Maybe that was just her version of sadness — no less beautiful. In that moment, Nat realized: Lottie was gorgeous even in pure decay. A broken kind of beauty. Quiet. And she didn’t know what Lottie had. A flu? A cold? Some infection? It was a kind of unfamiliar worry, but it pulsed in her chest as she approached.

“Hey…”

She said it with a small smile, trying to offer comfort. Lottie smiled back, but it was weaker, almost lifeless. Still beautiful. Still graceful. Just… different. Missing that usual flicker that made her sharp canines show and brought charm to her face.

“What are you doing here?”

It didn’t sound accusatory, nor like she wanted her gone. It was calm. Almost painful. Her voice cracked with genuine surprise.

“Laura Lee said you were sick. So… I wanted to check on you.”

It came out simple. No sarcasm, no usual bite. Just honest, with barely hidden concern. Lottie didn’t respond right away. She seemed to be thinking about what to say, eyes focused on Nat. She adjusted her bangs. Wet her lips — a habit Natalie had memorized in countless versions. Looked around, like something stood between them. Maybe the gate. Maybe time. Or something in the chest. She didn’t know.

“I brought you this.”

She shifted the subject. A rare move — since usually they tossed words back and forth like a game. Now, silence felt too heavy for that.

Lottie took the poster, unrolled it. Studied it for a moment. Smiled, faintly. Almost lit up. But her eyes… her eyes hurt. Why did they hurt? Why did Matthews seem so far from herself?

“Thank you.”

She said it quietly, quickly, still looking at the gift.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?”

Nat asked, unsure of how to navigate the moment, but trying anyway. Trying because, for the first time, it felt too important not to.

Lottie rubbed her eyelid lightly with her fingers. She looked tired. She was about to answer — Nat could feel it. But then her father’s voice echoed from somewhere in the house, calling her.

“Oh… right… see you tomorrow?.”

And just like that, Natalie left.

In her chest, there was no relief. No pain either. Just something strange. A kind of premonition. A taste of silence. She didn’t know if it was good or bad — but it was there.

Sometimes, Lottie felt like a walking contradiction. She wanted to forget Nat. She wanted to care less about her. And yet there she was — hanging the poster on the wall, listening to the tape Nat had made, remembering the unexpected visit — the presence at the white gate, the hesitant smile — and hating herself for not knowing what to do. Even though she wanted to do so many things.

Her mind spiraled. Her heart clenched until it was small, fragile, almost absent. She could see it — Nat was worried. Nat cared. That much was undeniable. So why did it have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she just go on without noticing it? Was it the noticing that ruined everything? Or the fact that she could never truly have what she wanted most?

It was agonizing. A slow-burn torture. The kind that makes the guillotine feel like mercy. The kind that makes a quick death seem like kindness. Lottie just wanted it to stop. For her mind to stop. For her heart to shut up.

She kept telling herself she should pull away. That it would be easier. Cleaner. But her mind didn’t want to pull away. Her mind wanted Natalie. Her body too.

She could almost smell her. Like a hallucination. She’d look at her own bed and imagine — as if watching a memory that had never happened. Nat on top of her. Noses brushing. Caresses that made her laugh. Soft kisses on the lips. That playful fight over who would be on top. Lottie giving in, then flipping the game. Natalie straddling her, smiling.

Then the jolt back. A dry sob. A strange daze. It felt like madness, even in sleep. Even in sleep, where peace is supposed to exist. Even there, Lottie found no rest from what she felt.

Time seemed to slow down, and at the same time, everything moved too fast. Within minutes, Lottie was back in the school hallways, walking with Jackie and Shauna. The noise of footsteps, voices, lockers slamming — it all sounded muffled, distant. Even among laughter and comments, she was clearly hiding from Nat.

She saw her. She knew Nat saw her too. The glance was quick, just a flicker, but it hurt like it had lasted hours. Still, she kept walking. Kept pretending to care about what Shauna was saying about history class. Forced a smile when Jackie made some joke. Forced the laugh too. Forced everything.

At lunch, she sat at the usual table. Picked up the tray with hands that still trembled slightly. She knew Nat was nearby. Could feel her gaze burning — like a fever — even without looking back. She pretended not to notice. Bit into her apple without hunger. Laughed at something Tai said, even if she didn’t really get it. She faked it so hard she almost believed it herself.

She kept doing that for the rest of the week.

But there was one problem: practice.

How could she avoid Natalie at practice? How do you escape the glances, the touches, the inevitable bumps? You couldn’t. They were forced to compete, to touch, to run side by side like nothing had happened. But something had. And now, every play felt like a desperate attempt to rip that feeling out of her chest by force.

The ball bounced louder. The whistle sounded sharper. The physical contact was tenser. They competed for everything — space, strength, endurance — but what truly hurt was the silence between them.

“Is there something going on between you and Nat?”

Jackie asked out of nowhere, casually, while they were hanging around in a small circle with Shauna, Van, and Tai. Van looked merely amused, leaning on Tai, but there was something more in her gaze — a kind of attentiveness Lottie pretended not to notice.

“Nothing…”

Lottie said quietly, fiddling with her bangs, as if the repeated motion could somehow erase the tension. She avoided everyone’s eyes. Especially Van’s.

“It’s just… you guys are kinda weird now,”

Tai chimed in, sipping from her water bottle, watching the two of them with a look that was too sharp to ignore. Was it really that obvious?

The connection that had grown between her and Nat… was it that visible? That thought terrified her.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Nat,” she said again, this time a bit faster, as if trying to spit the words out. “We’re just busy. And like… we’re not even friends. We barely know each other.”

And then Natalie walked by.

Her hand gripped the strap of her backpack too tightly. Her fingers were white, rigid. Her steps were firm, like each one had to break through the floor. Lottie saw it. And she knew, with a deep, dull panic, that Nat had heard everything.

It was obvious. The way she looked away without hesitation, how she didn’t even bother pretending to care. How she didn’t slow down, didn’t glance back. She just walked past.

A sudden chill hit Lottie’s stomach. A part of her wanted to get up, run after her, say it wasn’t true. That what she felt was real — too real, too big, too scary. But she stayed. Silent. Pretending.

She leaned against the wall, still trying to convince the others.

Still trying to convince herself.

Going to the locker room felt like a standoff now. Lottie prayed Nat wouldn’t be there, even though she knew she always stayed late. She walked in with careful steps, like walking on glass.

The locker room buzzed with the usual post-practice energy. The girls were still sweaty and loud, making plans for where they’d go out or what they’d drink afterward. Wet clothes were tossed onto benches, towels slapped against skin, and the sharp smell of deodorant filled the air.

Nat was at her locker, fumbling with the lock. Her fingers shook slightly as she spun the dial, too distracted to remember the combination. Lottie tried not to look, tried to focus on her own things — but failed. She always failed.

And then it started — the cursed conversation.

The girls were talking about boys again, as usual, and as if hell itself had arrived, Mari brought up a topic Lottie wished she could bury forever.

“So, Lottie, how does it feel to have kissed Flex on the mouth?”

The tease came with a toothy grin and mischievous eyes. The girls all turned their attention to Lottie like an audience hungry for drama. The muffled sound of one of the showers seemed to vanish, replaced only by the pounding of her heart in her ears.

She felt Nat’s eyes on her. Direct. A bit incredulous, maybe a flicker of curiosity, or maybe just unspoken hurt. Lottie couldn’t tell. Her chest tightened. Heat flushed her face.

The teasing continued.

“Did you know the guys used to say he could suck his own dick? Must be nasty. What a lucky pick for a first kiss.”

Mari laughed like she’d just won a trophy. Some girls laughed with her. Others just looked on, like they didn’t want to be there. Lottie gripped the bench hard, nails digging into the rough wood. Her cheeks were burning. Her throat, tight.

Her breathing turned shallow. A strange kind of fury rose in her chest — a mix of shame and something else she couldn’t name. But it hurt. It hurt a lot.

“Well, at least I wasn’t dumped for the guy’s cousin.”

The words came out sharp, jagged, unfiltered. Silence fell instantly. Lottie grabbed her stuff in a hurry, fingers fumbling with the zipper of her backpack, and left. Without looking back. Without looking at Nat.

She walked as fast as she could toward the parking lot. It was late; the only cars left belonged to the girls on the team — and honestly, the place was nearly empty. They were probably still in the locker room, finishing the rest of the gossip they’d stop: Lottie had kissed Travis. And Natalie had heard.

Lottie walked with hurried, almost routine steps, but there was no way she could escape the blonde, intense, almost furious chaos following her. So she turned. And found Natalie there. Merely disappointed.

Her eyes were full of tears that never fell — and that hit Lottie’s chest like an anvil.

“Give me one good reason not to hate you right now.”

Her voice was hoarse, choked, filled with something Lottie couldn’t quite identify as just anger. It wasn’t just anger. Natalie’s face was hard, unreadable, but her eyes… her eyes said everything. They were painted with a wet green Lottie had never seen before. And never wanted to see again.

She looked away.

“Answer me.”

It wasn’t explosive, just firm. Contained. Almost sad. Maybe tearful. Lottie couldn’t be sure.

“Is this… about Travis?”

Lottie asked quietly, timidly, almost stammering. Of course it was about Travis. Natalie must have hated her for some random guy, while Lottie… she hated herself for something much worse. For crossing the line. For wanting to cross the line. For wishing she had never realized — because maybe then she could keep kissing Natalie’s cheek, hugging her, looking too long… calling all of it friendship.

“Oh God. No! Fuck Travis.”

Nat moved, turned her face away, trying to hold back — just like Lottie was — whatever was burning in her chest.

“I want you to tell me why you’re treating me like shit. Seriously, Lottie? Ignoring me? Calling me a stranger in front of our friends?”

She let out a humorless, bitter laugh.

“Fuck all of that. And all of this because you kissed some random guy in some stupid game?”

It was a transition. Something between anger and sadness. Disappointment. Something that came from opening up, from letting Lottie in. From allowing herself to feel. It was humiliating for Natalie. Humiliating how much she had liked Lottie Matthews. And even more to think that, maybe, Lottie hadn’t felt anything like it in return.

“And fuck, Lottie… if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, just say it. Just say I was your fucking social experiment. You don’t have to act like a complete asshole.”

The words came out like hot, cutting iron. They hurt, because Natalie felt like she was fighting alone. Lottie remained silent. And her silence was a cruel kind of abandonment.

Natalie wondered why she was still there, standing in front of a girl who barely spoke — who only looked her up and down with an unreadable expression, hollow eyes that seemed like they wanted to say something… but always looked away.

“Just look me in the eye and say it!”

She was firmer. Pressure. Impulse. They were so close, their bodies tense — but not with the usual tension. It was almost like they hated each other, like they wanted each other too much to hold it inside. A want that scraped the bones.

And then Lottie broke.

Her expression cracked. Her jaw tensed, her lips trembled, her brows furrowed and knit together, and her eyes… her eyes filled. Natalie saw it. Now she saw it.

“I like you, Nat.”

Her voice was shaky. Barely came out. A whispered, painful confession — one that electrocuted the trail of anger between them. Like the hatred evaporated. And what remained was just the wanting. Bare. Real. Stuck in the chest.

“I like you.”

Lottie repeated. Not with strength — but like someone begging. Like someone who couldn’t hold it anymore. And the tears fell down a face that had always seemed too perfect to cry.

On impulse, Natalie hugged her.

She felt Lottie melt into the embrace. Felt her body cling to hers with an almost desperate strength, like she was salvation. The crying was quiet, muffled, but real — the soft sound, her nose brushing Natalie’s pale skin, the hot tears soaking through her practice shirt. Natalie gently ran her fingers through her hair.

But it didn’t last.

Even though it felt like forever, Lottie pulled away seconds later, wiping her face with the back of her hand as if she wanted to erase everything.

“But I can’t.”

She whispered. And then she left. Fast. Like a sharp pain. The door opened and locked again in the same second, like someone coming back to grab something forgotten — and still leaving without taking anything. And that’s how Natalie stayed. Alone. With a confession. And nothing else.

Chapter Text

One week.

It had been one week since Lottie admitted to Natalie that she liked her. And also one week since she’d left her — without giving her a chance to react, without even a final word, not even a phone call. The receiver always found its way back onto the hook each night, after long minutes of hesitation, maybe because Lottie was certain Nat wouldn’t call her anymore — or maybe because, deep down, she wanted her to.

The weight in her chest grew lighter with each passing day, but never really left. It was like wearing an invisible, heavy necklace — tight enough to bother her, not enough to kill.

When she was with Jackie, Shauna, Laura Lee, Mari, and sometimes even Peter — at business dinners, casual visits, or afternoons at the club, whenever her father decided to play golf with people Lottie had seen dozens of times but never cared to remember — the weight seemed to lift for a little while.

Sometimes she laughed. Sometimes, even genuinely — between sips of white wine “allowed” under the watchful, permissive eyes of adults pretending not to see. But as soon as she returned home, to her suffocatingly quiet room, to the neatly arranged pillows and the painfully large space, the weight came back. 

Silent. Persistent. Irremediable.

It was a strange feeling for someone like her — someone who loved solitude too much to seek shelter in small talk and meaningless outings with drunk, mostly boring teenagers.

But there she was anyway. Leaning against a wall, pushing some questionable drink down her throat, pretending to listen. Trying to outrun her thoughts. Her feelings. Trying to outrun the missing.

And failing. Miserably.

School felt like a battlefield; practice, a war zone. Lottie could feel Nat’s gaze burning into her — persistent, heavy, almost physical. She knew Nat was watching her, nonstop. And maybe, just maybe, Lottie was watching her too.Like they were locked in a war no one else could understand — but people noticed. Sometimes, Shauna would nudge her with an elbow, brows furrowed:

“You even listening?”

Lottie blinked, pretended to be present. Answered distractedly, trying to pull her eyes away from Nat. But it was impossible — it was like she was searching for something. Trying to read her, understand her, see through a fogged-up windshield on a rainy mountain road.

The field turned into a ring. Practices were getting violent.Most of the time, they ended up on opposite teams. They fought in silence for the ball — no words, just sweat, shoulders, arms, tension. Shoves that led to penalties. Muffled arguments the coach pretended not to hear. They were fighting something no one else could name.

A battle that spilled beyond the game — into the locker room walls, into glances, into brutal silences. A physical fight that wasn’t really about the sport. Or pride. Something bigger than either of them could understand, much less name. An unexplored feeling giving birth to others — And those feelings built up and broke apart like glaciers melting violently beneath the sea, under an unbearable heat.

Natalie’s cigarette packs seemed to run out faster. It was like she was smoking twice as much, taking her stress out between drags, chasing relief in that first inhale — a frantic loop on repeat. The taste of nicotine was familiar, almost comforting, as if she could anchor herself for a few seconds to that little burning cylinder that disappeared as quickly as the feelings inside her chest.

Sales at the shop always went up this time of year. Winter had come and gone, and now spring was taking over — flooding the streets with the sweet scent of flowering trees. People in love passed by holding bouquets, old men smelling of incense wandered in searching for rare records. Teenagers poured through the door in packs, laughing too loud, flipping through the shelves for their favorite bands’ albums, buying blank tapes to record playlists, or just browsing without actually buying anything.

Annoying as ever.

Kevin would show up to keep her company — often uninvited, but there nonetheless — claiming it was better to do nothing in the store than to do nothing alone. Natalie didn’t really mind. She complained like a grumpy old man who secretly enjoyed not being alone. 

They talked about pointless things, traded old magazines, chatted about parties where they’d sell cheap drinks, laughed about their crazy plan to save money for the Radiohead show next month. They were hyped about it.

Natalie was sure the band would release a new album that year, and they bet on it like two equally obsessed fans of The Bends, arguing that it was way better than Pablo Honey, even if Creep was the band’s most famous song. But they almost never talked about real problems. And Natalie preferred it that way. Bury it — like always. Seven shovels of dirt. One on top of the other. Until it disappeared.

Only this time, it felt impossible. Impossible when she saw Matthews’ fucking face nearly every day. When she showed up between practice and the locker room. When she walked down the hallway like a goddamn walking memory. And it stuck.

Like Natalie was still carrying her scent around even when she wasn’t there. They weren’t anything. Maybe friends. Maybe not even that. Natalie didn’t know anymore. But whatever they were… it hurt to think they were something. And it hurt just as much to think they weren’t. It was like an ingrown toenail.Not big enough to justify crying. But unbearable in silence.

She even forgot for a while. She really did. Or thought she had. But it all came back when she saw a girl who looked kind of like her walk past the store. Not the same. No one could be. No one had that aura. The girl was shorter too. Her hair was brown, her eyes similar. But there was something forced about the comparison — something that irritated Natalie more than it should have. Enough to wake up the pain she’d been trying to smother with cigarettes and repeat songs.

She didn’t want to know. Didn’t even try. She closed the store at the first sign that the stranger was about to walk in.

Another breakfast at the Matthews’ household. Everything looked the same. The oversized portions, the perfectly set table, the chairs meticulously assigned for each member — three in total — around a table that could easily seat twelve. The tablecloth, ironed to perfection, the silverware gleaming under the soft light pouring in from the tall windows — it all smelled of staged perfection, like a set carefully built for a single scene in a family drama.

Lottie stared out through the glass pane, focused on the birds and butterflies flitting among the flowers in the garden. The fast wings, the sense of freedom — they clashed with the heavy stillness inside the room. She watched them like someone on the other side of a snow globe. Distant. Trapped. Muted.

She pushed her food around the plate with her fork, dragging fruit slices and jelly-covered toast from one side to the other, occasionally taking a bite just to keep up the rhythm — a gesture too choreographed to be real. One that brought no comfort.

Her parents were talking about her as if she weren’t even at the table. As if she were a memory, a lingering absence, a subject on the agenda of a meeting held to analyze her, like numbers on a spreadsheet.

“Malcolm, you need to stop with this obsession. Charlotte is fine.”

Emilia’s voice came from across the table, her cutlery crossing gently, though her jaw was too tense to sound calm. She seemed exasperated by her husband’s insistence — he was set on changing Lottie’s psychiatrist, constantly bringing up some doctor in Switzerland, as if a foreign name alone could serve as a cure.

“You need to see that our daughter is sick, Emilia.”

His voice was firm, tapping his index finger on the table hard enough to make the closest plate tremble. His tone was that of someone giving a speech, not someone listening — authoritarian, invasive, almost aggressive. A verdict. A sentence. A poorly trained judge condemning even the most innocent defendant.

“She is fine! Malcolm, you have to stop pushing her away. Stop fighting something you don’t even understand.”

Lottie didn’t react. She kept staring out the window. Inside her mind, the argument was just muffled noise, like voices underwater. She was detached from the world. Nothing felt real. But she was there, somehow.

A silent witness to her own trial. A problem to be fixed.

A few weeks later, they were sitting in the waiting room of a psychiatric clinic. Just like every other clinic Lottie had been to — with faded walls, dull colors, lifeless decor, and the smell of saline and mothballs clinging to the carpets and old magazines.

Even the professionals looked like they’d come out of the same mold, with rehearsed smiles and eyes that often skimmed past her, like they were already judging. Insanity here was procedural. The hallways were too long, too white, filled with people who looked more out of their minds than Lottie ever had.

Malcolm sat next to her, tense, arms crossed, jaw clenched with the determination of someone who wanted a pre-defined answer to be confirmed. 

Emilia sat beside them too — her posture straight, but her eyes constantly on her daughter, like a silent offering of support — even when Lottie hadn’t asked for it. Even when she didn’t want any of it.

The girl said nothing. Her eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall. Tired. Tired of the same tests, recycled questions, clinical stares, prewritten diagnoses. She’d seen it all. Heard it all. Same script. Different actor. Like a show that never ended and constantly needed a new face to keep its ratings. A twisted version of Doctor Who, only without the magic, without regeneration, without charm. The kind of show that wouldn’t even make it to season two due to low viewership.

“Mr. Matthews, I have only good news. Your daughter is perfectly stable. The medication is working well. I see no reason for concern.”

The man spoke with a grin stretching ear to ear — the kind of smile that looked practiced in the mirror.

But it didn’t please Malcolm. If anything, he looked more convinced than ever. As if he’d lost a battle he should’ve never started. As if he were starving for a stumble, a relapse, a misplaced word to prove he was right — and that his daughter was still a problem. Emilia, on the other hand, looked relieved. Her body eased by a fraction.

She smiled at Lottie, even touched her shoulder lightly — a gesture that felt rehearsed but sincere enough that Lottie didn’t pull away. She even made a lame joke, as if celebrating a small win with her daughter.

Lottie just smiled. Nodded, as she usually did. And left the office. No relief. No visible emotion. Just the steady footsteps of someone who already knew the way back. Just the sound of her parents chatting behind her, and later, in the car, the same old self-centered monologue from her father — dragging on like a tired one-man show.

The days slipped by in an almost forced sense of normalcy, as if everything remained the same—except for a pulsing absence, as if an essential part had been ripped away. The routines repeated themselves, the rituals persisted, and the life Lottie had always known remained intact: surrounded by privilege, obligations, and expectations. Some external. Others, internal.

Worries filled her mind and chest with a veiled, anxious tension—almost always contained, but never truly silenced. When would it stop? How long could Lottie keep stuffing all of it into the small space of a chest that always felt too tight to hold anything at all?

She and Laura Lee were reorganizing the enormous box of photographs Lottie had kept for years—those that hadn’t been carefully selected for the memory book. It was a common ritual for the two of them, diving into those memories like a nostalgic late-afternoon tradition. They laughed at childhood photos—paint-stained hands, toothless smiles, and a kind of carefree joy that felt larger than life. Because maybe, back then, the biggest worry had been the monster in the closet… or, if they were lucky, just a passing tantrum.

“Lot, what’s going on?”

Laura Lee asked after a while. Not in an accusatory way—just in the sweet and gentle way she always had, the kind of person who cared for everyone around her, even when no one asked. Lottie simply let her shoulders drop, or at least tried to look relaxed, like she was answering a routine question. But now, there was a weight behind it. A weight she didn’t want to expose.

“Nothing…”

She returned her focus to the photos, hoping the question would be forgotten, buried somewhere in the corners of her childhood friend’s mind. But Laura Lee didn’t seem convinced—much less satisfied.

“You seem… off. I mean… since you stopped talking to Natalie.”

And then, Lottie froze. The photo between her fingers tightened in her grip, as if she needed to hold on to something—anything. She tried to steady herself, to hide the sharp pang that bloomed in her chest. It was strange how things had changed. If her friends used to find Nat’s presence in her life odd, now they seemed to notice her absence.

“Is it obvious that… well… she and I aren’t talking?”

She asked, trying to sound indifferent, though everything inside her felt heavy. She wanted to hear what Laura Lee had to say. Wanted to know what others had noticed.

“No, but… it’s strange.”

Laura Lee replied gently, in the same calm tone she used for nearly everything. Sometimes, it was almost funny how she managed to do that—like a character stuck in one emotional register. But a new question echoed in Lottie’s head. Strange how? What exactly did they see? Even though she was uncomfortable, even though she wanted to change the subject, she circled the doubt.

“Does anyone else think that?”

She spiraled. Her chest tightened; she felt a little exposed, but at the same time, oddly understood. Lottie wouldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t reveal anything about her feelings for Nat, or the realization she had about herself. It was too intimate. Too frightening.

“I don’t know… maybe Jackie and Shauna.”

She shook her head at that. Something flickered deep in Lottie’s mind. She remembered the moment Jackie admitted she was with Shauna—and suddenly, all the accusations made sense. It made sense that Lottie felt on edge around them, like walking through a minefield. Because, even without knowing exactly, some part of her had known. Some part of her had felt seen—exposed and mirrored by Jackie and Shauna.

Shauna’s glances, like she was looking for something. The nonverbal teasing, the kind that irritated Lottie deeply. Irritated her because it made her feel raw, discovered without warning.

“We’re fine.”

She adjusted her bangs. She needed to cut them soon or start pushing them to the side—exposing that damn scar on her forehead. The one she got when she refused to “marry” Josh at six or seven years old during some stupid pretend game.

A stubborn gesture turned into a permanent memory. It had always been there. Somehow, it had always been there. Like a dormant part of herself, something numb, waiting for the right moment. Waiting for someone who could see her completely. And Natalie—of all people—that distant, inverted mirror, had seen her. Saw her in a way Lottie had never let anyone see her before. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

“Liar…”

Laura Lee said it, slightly accusatory, even with that sweet, habitual tone so characteristic of her. Lottie could tell when that usually naïve girl had picked up on something—caught something in the air. And maybe that’s exactly why a certain fear was growing in her chest. Because Laura Lee, despite always seeming detached from everything, more worried about her prayers, airplane pamphlets, and moral certainties than teenage gossip, saw things. Sometimes, she saw too much.

“Are you two fighting because of Travis?”

The questions came fast, invasive. Lottie felt cornered, as if she were in some police interrogation room or something like that. One of those where any slip-up could cost you your freedom.

“What? No…”

The muscles in her face tensed, brows furrowed a bit too much for someone trying to appear calm. Laura Lee kept going, insistent and still with that same calm tone—which only made it worse.

“Are you in love with him?”

Then came the first crack, the kind that makes you stumble off a cliff just because one small edge gave out. Lottie’s eyes faltered, and her throat dried up instantly, as if she’d been caught red-handed for something she couldn’t even explain.

“What? No. Why? Why would I be in love with him?”

The answer came out faster than it should have, almost defensive, like she wanted to escape her own body for a moment.

And then came that question. The one Lottie didn’t want to hear. The one that crossed a line she never thought Laura Lee would even perceive. The one that reached beyond everything she still hadn’t had the courage to say out loud.

“Are you in love with Natalie?”

She didn’t answer. Froze. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again. The blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Lottie couldn’t say anything. It felt too hard to deny, and even harder to confirm. And well… the silence said everything. A silence that Laura Lee understood. She didn’t speak for a while, like she was still processing the information, trying to find the right words.

Lottie went back to fidgeting with the photos, almost mechanically, like a comforting habit, but inside, she wanted to hide. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to cry. She wanted to die.

Then Laura Lee said:

“I won’t tell anyone.”

A wave of emotions swept through Lottie, tangling in her chest—already crowded with so many feelings that seemed ready to burst at any moment. First, she was surprised by Laura Lee’s reaction, because more than anything, she had expected judgment. 

She’d expected the worst. At the very least, a quiet withdrawal, a look filled with pity or disgust. Laura Lee was far too religious not to feel some kind of horror at it—that’s what Lottie believed. Because, in her mind, there was no space for understanding. Only punishment.

She was certain that Laura Lee would feel disgusted, would see her as impure, wrong, damned. Even knowing Laura Lee was incapable of hating anyone. Too pure to hate, yes. But still, Lottie expected rejection. Wasn’t that what she deserved?

But Laura Lee didn’t feel disgust. And somehow, that hurt almost as much as if she had. Why wasn’t Lottie being pushed away?. Why wasn’t she being judged?. Why wasn’t she being exorcised like the worst of sinners?. Because, in some twisted way, that’s what she thought she deserved. Could Laura Lee really forgive like the holiest of saints she believed in so faithfully?

Then came the second feeling: relief.

A fleeting relief at having let it out, even in silence. For not being punished for it. For not being burned alive. A relief that lasted only seconds. Because right after, an excruciating worry took over everything. If Laura Lee—the most oblivious of girls—had noticed… how many others knew too?.

Natalie and Kevin were on their way to the party.

Kevin was driving his dad’s old pickup truck while the kegs of cheap beer clanked in the back with every bump in the road. They were both buzzing with anticipation. They’d spent what little money they’d scraped together from school sales on those two kegs and, well… they were hoping the night would be a success — that they’d make at least double, or else things might get ugly.

But honestly, there was no better investment than selling cheap booze and weed to a bunch of bored teenagers just looking for a good time. Especially on a random Friday night.

They were far from responsibilities, far from math class and the constant pressure from their parents. It was the perfect setup for them — desperate to make some cash for the concert. They’d been dreaming about it since they were kids — since the days Nat would get beat up by her dad after spending the whole afternoon hanging out with Kevin, making plans to start a band. They weren’t very good, but they had fun. And back then, well… getting beat up kind of felt worth it.

But now Nat was free. Forced into early independence, she could do whatever she wanted — even if she didn’t have much.

They kept the jugs up in the back of the truck as the teenagers started showing up, more and more annoying with each one trying to buy. They put up with it. Sometimes they drank more than they sold and smoked more than they handed out — but that was the soul of the party.

“We’re gonna see Ed O’Brien, Nat.”

Kevin said, excited — maybe drunk, maybe just too high.

“Are you gay or something, drooling over a dude like that?”.

He teased, a sharp grin on his face as he took another swig of beer.

“Fuck off.”

Kevin said through laughter. The party kept going. They were selling weed at increasingly ridiculous prices. It was fun — the drunker and higher the idiots got, the easier it was to take their money. Especially the spoiled ones, the kind who’d hand over anything for some decent weed, a tiny pill, or a cheap beer whose sketchy origin they didn’t even care to ask about.

Everything was going fine, but like with every fucked-up teenage party, someone had to start a fight.

Natalie just hadn’t expected it to be Kevin.

That scrawny, half-goth kid always got a little too brave after a few drinks — the type who thought he gained some sort of super strength, like fucking Popeye after downing a can of spinach. But, well… it wasn’t really his fault. And in a way, Kevin was just trying to defend her. Even if she didn’t need him to.

Things had escalated. Natalie was slightly pissed off — it’s not like she needed to get into a fight just because fucking Philip, always glued to Richie and Marco, called her a slut. But of course, Kevin Tan had to go and defend her so-called honor, like some damn knight in shining armor, instead of just ignoring it.

The boys started throwing punches. A crowd of gross, nosy teenagers — like vultures — circled around them. Kevin was taking more hits than he gave — he landed a few, but it was obvious he was weaker. Natalie tried to step in somehow, but Marco shoved her hard, like he didn’t give a shit he was pushing a girl.

She shoved him right back and, without a second thought, kicked him square between the legs. A solid, brutal kick — enough to send the idiot crumpling to the ground in pathetic slow motion.

But it was too late. She couldn’t stop those assholes from knocking over the rest of the booze in the barrels as their final little act of “victory.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to piss her off — because to Natalie, that booze had cost effort. Hours of it.

Kevin sat in the driver’s seat, door open, black eye blooming, blood dripping from his lip.

“Fuck you. What were you even thinking, acting like fucking Superman?”

She snapped, eyes burning with tears that never fell. Her voice was sharp. Blood was slowly trickling from her nose.

“I was defending you,”

Kevin shot back quickly, almost offended. Natalie rolled her eyes.

“Oh right, Kevin Tan. Thank you so much for defending my fucking honor that I never asked you to defend.”

She left before she could take out all the built-up anger on her best friend’s already fucked-up face. Kevin still tried to follow her, got out of the truck asking where she was going, but Natalie didn’t answer. Didn’t care. She just kept walking away until she could let the tears run down her face without having to pretend she was strong.

It was an angry kind of crying, restrained but heavy, shaking her from the inside out, almost making her stumble. She wiped her tears in a rush — her nose too — mixing the iron-tasting blood with the salt dripping down her skin. She was shaking. Shaking like a smoker hours past their last cigarette — and deep down, that’s exactly what she was.

She walked aimlessly. No idea where she was. Some other town, on the other side, smaller than theirs. Empty streets, barely any cars.

She lit a cigarette with trembling hands and just spiraled. Let the anger pour out along with the smoke. Her chest felt tight, like each drag needed to make space for something else. The tears kept coming, relentless, and her fists were clenched so hard she could feel her short, wine-painted nails breaking into the skin of her palms.

She passed a gas station and bought vodka with a fake ID so shitty even she didn’t know how the clerks still believed it. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe they just wanted to profit, look the other way, pretend they didn’t see.

The problem was, at some point, she’d have to leave — and, well, walking wasn’t really an option. She was in a place she didn’t know, recognizing street names only from the signs she passed. Maybe even those were jumbled in her mind.

She walked until she found a payphone near a bus stop. It was way too late for any bus to show up and, well, she probably didn’t even have enough money in her pocket for a ticket anyway.

But… who would she even call?

She didn’t know anyone’s number. Except for the one person she absolutely shouldn’t. And it would be ridiculous to do that — but, well, she was already way too drunk. Her head spinning, loose, running on nothing but instinct. Nat didn’t want to go home. She didn’t care about going anywhere. She just wanted… to hear Matthews’ voice.

And there she was. Spending her last few dollars on someone who probably wouldn’t even pick up. It rang. And rang. She wasn’t even sure it was the right line. But… there was so much in her chest. Maybe it didn’t matter if the girl on the other side answered or not.

“Hey… it’s me again… you probably…”

She wiped her face, smearing away the streaks of vodka and tears. Why was she doing this?. When did she get this soft?. This breakable?.

“I don’t even know why I’m calling. Maybe ‘cause I’m drunk and high as fuck.”

She looked around, like someone might be listening — even though no one was. A few cars passed by. She paced in the small space the phone cord allowed. Anxious. Restless. Shaky. On the verge.

“I just left… a party… and… um… Kevin got into a fight with some guy and we fought and… you know, I…”

Her voice cracked, but she kept going. She sniffled — a cry caught halfway up her throat, voice rough with unshed tears.

“I… I didn’t know anyone else’s number.”

She laughed softly. A sad, empty laugh that faded alone into the cold night air, swallowed up by a sniffle. The pauses were long. Too hesitant.

“I don’t know… maybe you don’t want to talk to me, and yeah, I should probably be hating you right now, but I…”

She closed her eyes. Gripped the phone tighter. Ran her hand through her hair — her head was spinning. She didn’t know if it was from the booze, the weed, or the mess of everything she hadn’t said.

“I think I just wanted to say I miss you and… you know, I do, and…”

The ache in her chest tangled with her words.

“I can’t be with anyone the way I am with you and, you know… you… I can’t feel this way with anyone else.”

A long pause. The words sometimes stuck. Took effort to leave her mouth. It was too intimate. Too raw. And the silence only made everything louder.

“I really don’t know what to do. I…”

Her breath hitched. Lips trembling. The tears finally fell, quiet and real.

“I like you, Lottie. I really like you.”

And then she waited. Squinted her eyes. The call would end soon — Lottie probably hadn’t even heard. But she waited. Waited through the full minutes she’d paid for, in silence.

Ruminating on her own words while pressing her thumbs against her eyes. She didn’t even know anymore if she was shaking from the cold, the alcohol, or exhaustion. And like a damn goddess who only answers those who beg, out of absolutely nowhere… she heard Lottie’s voice on the other end.

“Nat, where are you?”

Three and a half hours later, Lottie Matthews was there. Like a fucking prince on a white horse, when Nat had already lost hope for anything. When she thought the booze had just gone too far to her head.

But even so, she had stayed. For three hours. As if her most wounded instincts trusted the one who had stabbed her. And for some reason — for some fucking reason — she came. But still, everything hurt. It ached. Especially the glaring silence between them.

They didn’t speak. Didn’t share music. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t sing. Didn’t smoke with the windows down. All they shared was a tightness in the chest. And a deafening silence.

Lottie was driving like she was fighting to keep her focus on the road. But Natalie knew she was looking at her. Not with judgment. With pain. Not with pity. With concern. A kind of care that ran through the still-open wound between them. Like someone who wounds… but then wants to heal. Their eyes met sometimes. Said what their mouths couldn’t. Three hours felt like an eternity. One of the cruelest tortures: the kind that’s repressed, done in silence.

Lottie parked in front of the store, but neither of them moved. Both still in the car. Like so many other times. But this time, so different.

Nat had a bruised nose — the blood had stopped dripping, but it throbbed. Not as much as her chest, but it throbbed. Silence. Until someone gave in. Until someone broke. And that someone… was the one who usually didn’t.

“So… you like me too?”

Lottie finally said. That hesitant voice, shy, cautious. She had heard. Quietly. But she heard Natalie through the phone. Natalie felt a pang of shame. Maybe for being so miserably open. Maybe for breaking so easily.

But she had already done it. And the alcohol rushing through her body made her more honest than she wanted to be.

Her chest burned. Her throat felt like it was made of glass.

“Since the first time I talked to you, I think.”

She said. Taking advantage of being drunk and high as fuck to say the most cliché shit that had come out of her mouth in years. Fuck… she was already there. Her chest wanted to speak. And she was tired as hell. Nothing was going to fix it.

So she would pour it all out. And then leave it there. Like Lottie did, when she left her in the middle of the parking lot with more questions than answers.

“But… if I wanted to be a lot more specific about it…” She paused. Her gaze fixed on the window glass. “…I’d say I already liked you way before that.”

Lottie tensed up. Nat could feel it. She heard the girl’s breathing grow heavier, her lips tremble, hesitate in a raw way, far from any kind of mystery. Would Lottie Matthews be open to Natalie like that? She didn’t know. But she saw it.

“Uhh… I think that… well… I do too…”

Nat couldn’t see her eyes — neither of them had the courage to look at each other. But she could be sure: that was the truth. Something told her it was. Even if her trust in Lottie was barely holding on. And she hated that.

“But I don’t know how to deal with this, and I don’t know if I can.”

And in that moment, she saw it. Saw that Lottie was broken. Felt her heart. Knew it was just as shattered as the uncertainty in her voice.

It was like that heart didn’t match the elegant image of the girl in front of her. Like it wasn’t made of gold, but of the cheapest porcelain. The kind that doesn’t even need to hit the ground to break. The kind that just needs a little hot tea to fall apart.

Natalie understood. Lottie’s pain soothed her own. And as if she couldn’t hold it in, she said:

“I can wait.”

Chapter Text

Mid-May.

The girls were training with all their strength for the upcoming games. There was less than a week left before they would head to Seattle to compete in Nationals. It would be a week full of matches, and they felt confident in their ever-improving skills, thanks to Coach Scott’s insistence that they train four times a week. Their routine was divided between physical conditioning, a few ball practice sessions, strategic reviews on the field, and occasional scrimmages — with a rest day between each training and a protein-rich diet.

Natalie was sitting at the top of the bleachers, hydrating after a long conditioning session. Her tied-up hair was still dripping with sweat. Van sat next to her, cracking jokes as usual, and Mari was nearby being her usual annoying self, complaining about how tired she was and how much she was craving one of those greasy burgers from the closest diner.

From the top of the bleachers, Natalie had a perfect view of the field. She watched the girls interacting down below — Shauna sitting on the grass with Jackie lying across her back and, well… Lottie, insistently, at her side. She was talking with Laura Lee — something Natalie found herself newly and strangely curious about, even though she kept glancing away and trying to start small talk with Van as they rested. The sun was warm on her face, the water no longer quenched her thirst, and time seemed to drag until Coach Scott’s whistle echoed across the field, making the lazier girls groan and get their butts up to train again.

They lined up. Natalie ended up standing between Lottie and Melissa. Things weren’t exactly bad between her and Lottie anymore — they just didn’t talk as much. There wasn’t constant interaction, just a kind of mutual awareness, a quiet effort to be a bit better near each other. Still, it felt like something suspended in the air — like an invisible wall had formed between them. As if some force was pulling them in opposite directions, even while they continued to orbit one another.

But, for now, that was it. There was no longer that weight in her chest — just a sense of suspension. Of waiting. Something once mended, but still carrying a silent ache. The ache of unmet expectations, of unspoken words, of a wait with no clear end.

Practices flew by. It was hard to dwell on Matthews when she had to keep moving, feel sweat drip from her skin, and stay focused on Coach Scott’s commands — and her restless craving was already aching for all of it to be over so she could light a cigarette on the way home. Even so, the thought of her persisted. Not with the same intensity as before, not as overwhelming as when they didn’t talk and had to fight on the field just so something could be said.

Now, everything had been said — and, at the same time, nothing had. There was a kind of silent truce between them. An invisible agreement between the touch and the pullback.

And that was it.

Nothing else mattered more than the fact that they knew the nature of it all — even if they hadn’t lived any of it yet. Even if the feeling of not living it still pulsed between them, like a thread stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

Lottie was starting to feel lighter—at least in some ways. That truth adults so often spoke of, about time healing all things, was starting to become something to her — well, to a certain extent. Because, although the weight had been somewhat lifted, there was still something deeply bitter inside her. A remnant. A residue that wouldn’t fade. Maybe time wasn’t capable of erasing absence after all, but it was still too soon to declare that a truth. It hadn’t even been three months since that dark cloud of realization had hovered over her head, maybe as a form of punishment — or maybe, in those small moments when she looked at Natalie — as a release disguised as punishment.

A romance written by the most restrained, tangled, and introspective author to ever exist. Lottie had come to realize that maybe her outdated ideas of meeting someone in a bookstore, stumbling into a verse, becoming part of someone’s story… had nearly become real when she arrived soaked at that record store. The idea of someone who could understand her — and slowly, hungrily, pull her in. And yet, it still felt like something impossible to live. Like lines that weren’t meant to be written — or at least gave that impression.

She and Natalie weren’t something. But they weren’t nothing either. They were an almost — an almost-something that weighed, that pulled, that became a need. An invisible bond. And Lottie, for reasons inside herself she couldn’t always explain, fought against it. Fought it, even though part of her — the quietest part — only wanted to give in.

Sometimes she’d catch herself thinking too much, tangled in mental labyrinths she didn’t know how to escape. Sometimes, she found herself with the urge to just drive to that record store and surrender. No plans, no brakes, no caution. It was like she was split in two — the part that wanted to live this, and the part that couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. Or didn’t know how.

Sometimes, it felt like something that might kill her. The violence of the cyclical thoughts and the unspeakable longing became stronger each day, a steady pulse beneath the skin. A war zone within, where Lottie Matthews fought on both sides. A double agent of her own chaos. Someone who untied her own restraints only to regret it later, tying herself down even tighter — as if she deserved the cage for daring to want freedom.

Someone stuck in an endless loop of doubt and self-preservation. A hanged woman turned upside down — one who could see the world both ways, but was unable to move toward either. The truth seemed far too clear and still, somehow, unreachable. An old fear, fragile but persistent, held her back. A protective shell that didn’t actually protect — only isolated. And she knew that. But she also knew how hard it was to break through it.

She was sitting with Taissa and Shauna in the school courtyard before practice, discussing one of the freshmen players she didn’t want on the team during the championship games. The sun slanted across the concrete, and the late afternoon breeze did nothing to ease the weight of the conversation. Natalie had been called over for an extra opinion — because Lottie was definitely more passive and didn’t quite agree with Tai’s plans to push the girl off the team. Shauna, too, seemed on the fence, questioning whether Jackie would even approve of the idea.

But Nat… Nat had a solid opinion. Sharp and rooted in a sense of justice that was entirely her own.

“I don’t know. We could just focus on training and winning.”

She said, holding her backpack by one strap, completely certain in her decision — with that same careless confidence she always used when something truly mattered. Lottie had one hand at the back of her neck, trying not to stare too much, glancing around and lightly rubbing her skin with her fingers — an anxious, nearly unconscious gesture — as the tension rose between two girls with equally defensive personalities.

“Why not?”

Tai asked, arms crossed, standing like someone who believed she had all the answers. Just like Nat — one hand on her hip, chin raised, sure of her words. She smirked, sharp and biting — that blunt, dry kind of harshness Lottie knew so well. And, well… secretly, really liked.

“Because I’m not a fucking asshole.”

She said it firm, hard, slicing through the argument like a well-sharpened knife. Lottie could feel Natalie’s gaze on her — vaguely, but enough. She looked away, fixing her eyes on some random spot on the ground, and then Tai stepped in again, this time using one of those same insults people always threw at Natalie to hit where it hurt.

“You reek of cigarettes and booze.”

Natalie looked at her. Lottie saw the eyes, but also the hard, unshakable scowl. She knew Nat was affected, in some way — even if she didn’t show it. But she wouldn’t back down that easily. She gripped her things tightly and walked off as fast as she could.

And Lottie…

Lottie, for some reason she still couldn’t quite explain — went after her.

Natalie leaned against one of the hallway walls just outside the courtyard, her head boiling from the words she carried. She rummaged through her bag, found her lighter, and quickly lit a cigarette. The smoke left her nostrils like a tranquilizer, filling the space with a false, yet necessary calm.

Things hadn’t exactly been easy for her lately — especially when it came to Matthews. And being publicly humiliated in front of her didn’t help; on the contrary, it made everything sting even more. Especially after watching her do nothing about it. But Nat couldn’t expect that. And she definitely didn’t expect Lottie to show up now, silent, standing beside her with a simple:

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Nat replied. An outer calm that didn’t match the storm inside her at all. She smirked, a little dryly, letting the silence stretch between them like a beat skipped.

“Are you okay?”

Matthews’ question sounded genuinely concerned, her voice timid, soothing, with that restrained softness that always seemed to wrap around her somehow. And as always, it made Nat orbit her in the same way — even when she didn’t want to.

“Don’t worry about it…”

She shrugged. No sarcasm, no deflection, no armor. Just that terrible in-between left hanging in the quiet between them. Lottie pressed her lips together, brown eyes searching too — like someone digging through her own mind for words that just wouldn’t come. Then, she gave a slight nod, a whispered “alright,” as if trying to be intentionally obvious just to fill a second of silence with her voice.

Nat thought she’d leave after that. Walk away, say nothing else. But well… Lottie was destined to break her expectations — as always. The taller girl just leaned against the wall beside her, shoulders nearly aligned, and without saying a word, she stayed.

Nat looked down vaguely. Then she pulled another cigarette from her pack and, without much thought, handed it to Lottie — offering the lighter too, her fingers still warm. They weren’t exactly sharing one — but they weren’t not sharing something either. They existed in that limbo between everything and nothing. And maybe that’s what kept them there.

They walked to practice together, side by side, as if it were natural — even though nothing between them was. They ended up laughing briefly as they walked, bumping into each other over and over — a shoulder here, a nudge there — a lightness that cut through the heavy silence they’d been dragging for so long. For a moment, it felt easy.

Natalie bumped Lottie again, deliberately this time, shoulder to shoulder, with that provocative touch that didn’t apologize. And Lottie answered — whether with a softer bump back, or just that ridiculous closed-eye grin, her canines slightly showing — a smile that seemed to know too much.

A dangerous vampire disguised as an angelic schoolgirl. The kind of charm you’d let through the front door without thinking twice. And she’d ruin your life… but in a way so sweet, so alluring, you wouldn’t even mind. The kind of gesture that made you forget the danger. The kind of presence that blurred salvation and curse.

A week later, Natalie was packing her bags for a few days in Seattle. She was a little nervous about everything—she had to close the shop for a bit, which made her restless. There was always that nagging feeling of abandoning responsibilities halfway through. But Kevin, as always, saved the day. He gave her his share of the sales from the party so she could enjoy a proper week in Seattle, and even promised to take care of the shop on his own, pay her back, and make sure they could finally go to that show they’d been talking about forever.

Natalie thanked him. Truly, even if she didn’t say everything out loud. She knew having a friend like him was rare. A safe harbor in the middle of chaos. Someone who held things together even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

They had been like that since they were kids. They fought hard sometimes, threw sharp truths at each other, but give it a few hours and they’d be messing around again, like nothing had happened. It was as if the time between conflict and forgiveness didn’t really exist. No one stayed hurt for long — no matter how serious it got, there was always a way back. A silent, unquestioned reunion.

The girls boarded the plane with a little excitement, chatting about everything because, well, Lottie’s father would never let his little princess spend more than two days on a crowded bus. Of course he’d get a private plane. And, well… Natalie felt like she should at least be a little grateful. Benefiting from rich people’s money had never seemed so easy — and for someone like the Matthews, it was probably just pocket change to rent a jet for the team. When they boarded, the girls all did this weird little chorus of “Thank you, Mr. Matthews,” obviously just to embarrass Lottie. She looked down, forcing a smile and pretending not to care, but Natalie saw the quiet discomfort tugging at the corner of her mouth.

The plane was full of girls — the main team, the ones who’d stay benched, coaches, and their kids. Travis was there too. Natalie gave him a quick “hey” and a friendly punch on the shoulder as she passed, sitting nearby without much thought. Travis had become familiar again — someone who, in some ways, still understood her from what they’d lived through together. He wasn’t strange anymore. It didn’t hurt anymore. He was comforting now, like a place you once knew that no longer held any weight.

Now, the discomfort came from the way Lottie looked at them — like someone who cared, and then looked away, like someone who couldn’t afford to feel it. Her gaze lingered just a little too long to be casual, but always slipped away before it could mean anything more.

“What are you listening to?”

Natalie asked, trying to distract herself — from the tension, the thoughts, the whole thing. Travis was about to answer when Javi walked over, wanting to join in.

“No… get out of here.”

The older brother snapped, slightly annoyed. Javi just rolled his eyes and walked away, stopping only to say something quick to Natalie before finding another seat.

“You’re Not The Only One I Know, by The Sundays.”

Travis said, handing her his Walkman so she could plug her own headphone into the second jack. She liked The Sundays, of course she did, but she had to leave her mark somehow. So she threw in a sarcastic tease:

“Such a girly song.”

She joked. Travis laughed, a little stiff like he always was.

“Shut up and enjoy it.”

The landing was smooth, despite a horrible turbulence they hit when rerouting north to avoid a storm. For a few minutes, the plane shook in a way that made everyone hold their breath. Lottie gripped the armrests tighter than she’d like to admit. For a moment, she truly thought the plane was going down — and maybe, she thought, it would be her fault for wishing it so much while she watched, from the corner of her eye, Travis and Natalie interacting. It burned. There was no denying it.

Laura Lee brought her back, whispering something, probably trying to lighten the mood with a word of faith, or maybe just checking if she was okay. But Lottie barely heard her. She just felt the sudden sting of shame spread across her face. She knew she’d been caught staring for too long. Still, she couldn’t help it. It was like a magnetic pull, a painful impulse in her chest, a burn beneath her skin. Jealousy.

She recognized that feeling — the name, the way it settled in her. She was ashamed of it. And, as she always did with any emotion that involved Natalie, she pushed it deep into her chest. As if she could lock it away. As if ignoring it would be enough. But it wasn’t. It didn’t come only from Natalie. It was more about herself — what she hid, what she denied, what she refused to live. And yet that girl awakened all of it. She absolutely did.

And it wasn’t her fault.

It was Lottie’s. For wanting too much. For desiring too deeply.

They got on a bus that would take them straight to the hotel — all courtesy of Lottie’s father, who insisted that a championship team shouldn’t be at the mercy of anything public. Yes, their school was already a good one. Yes, it had solid investment in sports. But Malcolm Matthews always found a way to shield his daughter under the unshakable power of his wealth. Lottie Matthews deserved nothing less than a bed of gold to rest in.

And that might’ve looked amazing from the outside. From the wider angle, she had everything she wanted. Everything she needed. But in return, she was chained to that name. And she never escaped her father’s hungry eyes — watchful, invasive, demanding.

Minutes later, they were at a fancy hotel, thick carpet in the hallways, receptionists smiling more than necessary. It was all very luxurious — but nothing Lottie hadn’t experienced before. While the other girls seemed excited about everything, she kept her eyes on one girl only.

Natalie.

The black jacket, even in summer. The distracted walk, headphones hanging from her neck. And right beside her — Travis.

It was hard to scrape the discomfort out of her chest when Nat kept walking back and forth with an ex-boyfriend who, suddenly, reemerged as a wedge between them. A bitter irony. Travis was a good guy — Lottie couldn’t deny that. He had good banter, a kind of sharp humor, and a strange calm that made it clear why Natalie might feel comfortable around him. Lottie could attest to that party night — even with all the chaos that came after, even with the stupid game that ruined everything.

And that was what hurt the most.

Lottie didn’t want Travis. But Natalie might. And that was enough to sting. He was likable enough. An old friend. A boy. And that alone made things easier. Freer. More possible. For a second, Lottie wished she were a boy. And in the next second, the thought made her want to throw up. 

But Natalie liked her too. Right? Natalie had said she could wait. But… Lottie never promised anything. She didn’t say how long it would take. She gave no guarantees.

What if Natalie gave up?. What if she got tired?. What if Lottie was never ready?. Would she leave the girl she admired most in the world waiting for something that might never come?

Lottie knew the answer.

She was selfish to the bone. She didn’t want to leave her comfort zone. She didn’t want to break the line of convention. She didn’t want to lose the safety she’d built around herself — But she didn’t want to lose Nat either. She couldn’t.

Because her body burned just imagining her with someone else.Lottie didn’t know what to think about herself. About all of this. It was suffocating. It was unbearable.

 And still, she did nothing but look.

Lottie was so hyperfocused on her own thoughts that she barely noticed Natalie approaching — and, strangely, with Laura Lee beside her. She gave a small shake of her head, arms crossing over her body like someone trying to anchor themselves to something. She looked slightly confused, but that quickly faded when the platinum-blonde girl explained:

“We got the same room.”

Straightforward. No hesitation. Clearly referring to herself and Laura Lee. Lottie nodded, still slowly processing everything. Her thoughts were spinning at a different pace from the world around her.

Then Natalie spoke again:

“Jackie and Shauna switched with Mari so they could stay together. If you want, I can…”

But Lottie cut her off before Scatorccio could finish.

“It’s fine.”

It came fast. Too fast. But it wasn’t cold. It was almost desperate — a relief that slipped out by impulse, even though, moments later, it turned into something else. Because Lottie did want her there. She wanted her close, even if it hurt. Even if it meant living with the constant fire of her presence, with the restrained desire, with everything that couldn’t be said.

And at the same time, she wanted distance.

For Natalie’s sake. For her own. For the sake of what she still believed was right, even when she no longer knew what to believe.

This contradiction was eating her alive. It was the kind of mental exhaustion that came from the inside, like trying to climb out of a pit filled with quicksand. She wanted to pull Natalie closer, but she also wanted to protect herself from everything she still couldn’t understand.

Natalie’s presence by her side was like holding a burning piece of iron. It was a bittersweet feeling — like a coffee-flavored candy, too sweet in its essence, too bitter in its reality. And Lottie didn’t know how long she could hold on… but she craved that taste, even if just a little.

Natalie entered the room first. She had picked up the keys at the front desk, handing one to Laura Lee and another to Lottie. She dropped her bag onto one of the beds without caring too much about which was more strategic — her head was too full to notice much else. The room was spacious, obviously. That she couldn’t deny. But there was no room for detailed impressions — all she wanted was a shower and a few hours of sleep before the games started the next afternoon.

The tournament would go like this: twelve games, eight spots for the eliminations. Meaning, they could lose — but not after the round of 16 if they wanted a shot at Nationals. The first days would be the most intense, with two games per day. Teams would play a first match — one would move on, the other would drop into the lower bracket for a second chance. The winners would go straight to the round of 16, and the losers would have to beat another lower-bracket team to get back in the race.

They played their first four matches. The biggest problem? They lost two — right at the start. It wasn’t a disaster, just close matches with goals lost to small teamwork errors. The girls started to get discouraged, but Jackie Taylor, the team captain, was there to hype them back up — while Misty, always the odd one, weighed the mood down in her own strange way.

They came back to the field for the lower-bracket matches and, miraculously, bounced back. A 1–1 game that went to penalties. Van caught the final penalty from the other team and ran into a collective hug — that moment meant they were back in the fight. Now they had to play the team that had missed their direct shot at the round of 16.

Sweat dripped from Natalie’s forehead, hitting the grass. She waited for the referee’s whistle — they were taking a free kick from outside the box after a brutal foul by a girl from the opposing team. It was still far from the goal, but they had made it there. Natalie focused as the other team’s goalkeeper lined up the wall, trying to cover her blind spots. What she hadn’t noticed was that Natalie usually covered the left side — but could easily switch with Tai to the right.

Natalie smiled. The whistle blew. She took a strong, precise shot — over the wall, straight into the top corner.

Tie. 1–1.

Natalie usually gave assists; she didn’t rack up as many goals as Jackie, Mari, or Melissa — who were pure finishers, with the sole task of scoring. Shauna did the dirty work, carrying the ball across the field. And Natalie? Natalie was the strategist — she created plays, hunted for openings like a predator, tracked her targets so others could finish the job. Like a hunter who brings the prey home — but doesn’t bleed it, doesn’t prepare it, just delivers it.

But now she had been the one to score — not just to build the play, not just to assist. She had made it happen.

The rest of the game stayed intense. Neither team wanted to go home empty-handed — and the Yellowjackets even less. They weren’t going to lose. Not now. Not after Jackie Taylor’s fiery-ass speech, as convincing as a pushy salesman desperate to hit their monthly quota. And, well, Laura Lee was praying for them.

They went back onto the field. The battle for the ball was fierce. They played, lost it, recovered, got intercepted. Frustrated plays, reworked, nearly finished — but not quite. The other team was just as fed up.

It was clear they were avoiding Lottie’s side. Maybe intimidated by her height, maybe because the left wing wasn’t their weak spot. They kept trying to come in through Laura Lee’s side, who was smaller — but covered by a relentless, aggressive Tai, who kept winning the ball back and getting the flow going again.

Overtime.

They were stressed, sweaty, exhausted — but no less determined. They wanted to avoid another penalty shootout. It would be too draining. They had thirty more minutes to play, split into two fifteen-minute halves.

They held possession during the first half, but didn’t score. Almost conceded a goal — if not for Lottie, who covered Van’s blind spot and passed the ball back to Shauna. Fast as ever, Shauna sped down the field with control, dribbling and scanning for openings.

During the break, they rehydrated, massaged their calves, exchanged short, tired, but motivated words.

Lottie walked up to Natalie.

“You okay?”

She asked, offering one of the cold packs for her legs.

“Thanks, angel of medicine,” Natalie replied, accepting it.

“You’re confusing me with Misty.”

Lottie teased, almost making Natalie remember how things used to be between them.Not that things weren’t still something. They just weren’t consistent. Natalie scrunched her nose in mock disgust, that familiar sarcastic smile still cutting across her face.

“You’re both the same kind of weirdo.”

Lottie chuckled under her breath, soft and almost hidden, then went over to Shauna, Jackie, and Laura Lee to do the same for them. Natalie kept watching her for a moment. Thoughtful. She only looked away when Mari passed by — and she took the chance.

“The side defenders are a little slow. So try pulling to the left, then cut right when I pass it to you, okay?”

“Okay, coach,”

Mari answered, playful. Natalie gave her a smirk and a few pats on the back.

The game resumed. They tried a few plays, no success. Until Tai, back on defense, launched the ball forward in a high, strong kick. It flew — and reached Natalie. She controlled it. Passed it to Melissa, who returned it as Natalie advanced along the sideline. Then, just like they’d planned, Natalie crossed to Mari. She caught it at her feet, slipped past the defense, passed to Melissa, who dodged the defenders and assisted Shauna.

Shauna didn’t miss.

Goal.

2–1.

The whistle blew. They won. They were through to the round of 16. And the next day, they’d face four more matches for the quarterfinals.

The girls arrived at the hotel still buzzing, celebrating the hard-earned victory. They’d been hanging by a thread, but rose like true champions — though celebrating the first step didn’t mean the trophy was in the bag. Now, more than ever, they had to stay focused. The road ahead would be narrower. More demanding.

They were exhausted, but excited. They’d get only one day off after the quarterfinal games. Plans were made for what they’d do in Seattle: maybe go to the aquarium, take a ride on the absurdly tall Ferris wheel everyone raved about, spend a morning at the beach or wander through the market. Everything sounded amazing to a bunch of teenagers who just wanted to roam around and maybe find a place selling cheap drinks.

They gathered at the hotel’s leisure area — a huge pool, air hockey tables, vending machines, a sand soccer field. A part of it was filled with lounge chairs where the girls piled up, gossiping about everything and nothing.

Natalie sat a bit off to the side with Travis, talking about something forgettable while trying her best to avoid looking at Lottie.

The tall girl was in another group, legs crossed, laughing at something Natalie would’ve given anything to know. To know what made Lottie laugh like that — so effortlessly, so carelessly.

Their eyes kept meeting, glancing away, then locking again. A silent war, fought with heavy, barely hidden stares. An endless battle — loaded with longing, guilt, unease. And even though Natalie couldn’t quite explain why the hell Matthews was acting this way now, she had always been, somehow, murky. Confusing. Hard to reach. A mystery, a riddle — and fuck, Natalie liked feeling like fucking Sherlock Holmes, because the more enigmatic Lottie got, the more betrayed Natalie felt by her own instincts.

Mari started hyping the group again, grabbing a battery-powered radio and calling everyone to dance. Natalie turned slightly, still tossing words back and forth with Travis, not paying much attention to the girls who were now joining in and singing along to a song that was way too catchy for her not to know the lyrics. She laughed. Partly at the moment, partly out of surprise.

Lottie fucking Matthews was heading her way. Way too determined for someone who constantly retreated.

“Madam?”

she said, offering her hand with a half-theatrical gesture.

Natalie shook her head. She wouldn’t dance. She never did. But Lottie looked far too sure of her decision, clicking her tongue before speaking with that composed calm. That elegant, controlled tone Natalie could never forget. A voice she’d memorized in the depths of her own inconsistency.

“Come on, Nat.”

Natalie’s eyebrows raised, just for a moment. A flicker of doubt. Lottie Matthews was asking? Demanding?

Weird. Unusual. It hit her right in the gut — and yet another damn reason she liked seeing her like that.

Natalie was completely fucked.

Lottie felt intoxicated.

Not by alcohol — that was out of the question here — but by the moment. By the euphoria. By the burning feeling in her chest that only grew stronger every time she looked at Natalie.

She was smiling in that sharp, sarcastic way of hers, with just the right amount of humor. Talking to Travis, gesturing with her hands. She’d been at it for hours, and Lottie had been watching the whole time, shoving every drop of that warm, restless feeling back inside her chest. Pushing it down to the place where she could just observe. Do nothing. Because that’s what she always did.

Lottie didn’t take steps without thinking. Not without analyzing, not without weighing her restraints. And still, everything she did seemed, paradoxically, impulsive.

The feeling burned, tightened, set her chest on fire — until her body moved. As if that fire had become the fuel behind her most reckless decisions.

She walked over. And pulled Natalie to dance.

They didn’t exactly dance together, but they stood side by side, following the choreography that everyone there already knew. Even so, their improvised — and purposely ridiculous — moves made it all the more fun.

Everyone laughed. Natalie and Lottie too.

Occasional, almost imperceptible touches burned on their skin as if intentional. Between them, a lightness. A lightness that, moments earlier, had felt buried under a thick cloud of smoke. A dense fog made up of Lottie’s uncertainties. Her fears. Her mental patterns that caged her more than they ever kept her safe.

But in that moment, there was no space left for thoughts. Maybe it was the victory high. Maybe it was the bitterness of jealousy. Or maybe it was Natalie — just Natalie.

The team eventually dispersed. Some girls went to bed, others stayed by the edge of the pool, chatting quietly.

And Natalie and Lottie walked together.

Slow steps, in silence, heading nowhere — or maybe somewhere only their feet had chosen. They orbited each other like two electrons in an electric current, too close. Their hands brushed occasionally, swaying with each step.

“Wow, Matthews. The smoker’s lounge!!”

Natalie teased, rolling her eyes as she scanned the place with an amused look. That’s where Lottie’s steps had led them — or maybe Natalie’s.

Lottie laughed. They were near the ground floor, one level up, behind a railing. From there, they could see the city — and the warm, salty wind of early summer pulled the Seattle breeze through her hair.

Lottie moved closer to the railing, leaning against it. Natalie followed. Close. Too close. So close the chill reached Lottie as fast as the wind tangled her hair. Shoulder to shoulder. Or more accurately — arm to arm. Hands resting on the iron, pinkies nearly overlapping.

“You and Travis…?”

The question cut through the silence. Tentative, but far too certain of the doubt burning inside her. She didn’t want to pry — but she needed to kill what had been simmering all night.

Or maybe feed it even more.

“No.”

Natalie was blunt. Looked at her that way. That way that stirred something deep inside the taller girl.

“Are you jealous?”

Nat shot back. Sarcastic, sharp, laced with teasing. Proud of herself. That raspy voice, those playful eyes. Lottie looked away. Bit the inside of her cheek.

“Maybe.”

She whispered. Eyes forward. Cheeks burning. Bangs tucked behind her ear. Natalie stayed quiet for a moment. Absorbing. Feeling.

“Don’t worry.”

That’s what she said. Steady.Full of things left unsaid — but it was something.

They stayed there. Just watching the view. With so much between them. So much in their thoughts. So many things held back. Unspoken. Lingering looks. Shy smiles. Fingers grazing. But that was it. Nothing more than that.

Chapter Text

The whistle blew. The game started tense — because losing meant going home. No trophy. Not even reaching the quarterfinals. Or the semifinals. And losing… wasn’t an option.

Lottie fought with all her strength to protect the area. She was a natural defender — she fought, shoved, intercepted — but didn’t attack. Always defending. Always careful.

Maybe her position said everything about her.

Lottie was never the aggressive type. She just defended. Defended what was hers, defended her space — without taking anything, without running over anyone. And that was a strength for someone who had never received a red card and only a few yellows, even in the most intense matches.

The games were tight. They won, but just barely. One–nil. Two–one. Three–two at most — and only when things got rough.

But in one of the matches, something changed.

They lined up on the field and, on the other side, the opposing team looked weaker. They managed to score two–nil. And one of the goals… was Lottie’s.

Rare. Almost unheard of. A defender doesn’t usually score — but it was off a perfect corner kick, taken by Taissa. The ball flew with precision and landed exactly where it needed to: On the head of the tallest girl on the team.

Lottie rose. And sent it straight into the net.

They danced, jumped, whistled in a near–visceral celebration. Not just because they were going to the semifinals — but because they’d have two days to rest.

Well, almost one — since Coach Scott would inevitably drag them into a light training session. After all, they had a semifinal coming. And if all went well… a final, too.

They were nervous, but a day off would be good for their minds and equally tired bodies. They couldn’t exactly leave without permission, but some of them were so exhausted they wouldn’t even care. They’d stay in the room, sprawled on the bed, watching whatever was on TV or the old VHS tapes left by the hotel — famous movies they had probably seen a hundred times.

Others would head to the pool, enjoy the summer sun, try to get a slight tan, or taste the hotel’s non-alcoholic drinks.

But the more rebellious ones — the restless, the chaotic — would surely find a way to sneak out. Slip through the halls, dodge the adults, and visit the city’s most famous spots. They wouldn’t let the chance pass them by.

Lottie didn’t really know what she would do. She was just there, lying on her bed, wearing the infamous pink striped pajamas and holding a book.

She liked the stillness of her mind in that moment, even though it wandered with every tiny distraction, every poorly absorbed paragraph. All it took was an empty sentence, and her thoughts would begin to drift — sliding into corners where words couldn’t quite reach.

Her heart beat at a calm rhythm — too calm for someone who lived with a constant tightness in her chest — but it still squeezed, still ached, every time a drop of a bad thought slipped through her mind and reignited the old battle between reason and emotion.

A battle that gave her no rest — not even in her small safe places, not even in her quiet pleasures. 

But there, in that hotel room, away from home, nearly out of reach of her parents, outside the sharp expectations that always hovered over her…

There, it felt easier. 

Being herself felt easier.

Even though, deep down, it still wasn’t easy. Because appearances, as always, hid much more than any words could ever reveal — more than Lottie herself could ever begin to say.

She was pulled from her thoughts when the figure that lived in them seemed to materialize right in front of her — in a way that felt almost visceral, though not exactly meant to get her attention.

Natalie looked focused solely on pulling a few dollars from her backpack, stuffing them into her wallet, along with a few packs of cigarettes that went straight into the large pocket of the flannel she wore over a black tank top. It was surprising how a shirt three sizes too big somehow fit that body so perfectly.

Lottie just watched her for a moment, glancing back at her book before she got caught staring for too long. But it was too late. Natalie had already noticed.

She paused. Hesitated for a moment.

Lottie sat up on the bed, closing her book in an automatic motion.

“Van and I are planning to head out…”

said the blonde, straight to the point, with a small smile at the corner of her lips. That smile Lottie knew so well — the one Natalie wore when she was about to do something she wasn’t supposed to.

A smile Lottie decoded instantly. Maybe too instantly. When had they crossed that line? When had they stopped just orbiting each other to suddenly crash, head-on?

Lottie didn’t exactly know. She didn’t know how it had all happened. And she didn’t know where they stood now. The two of them seemed to be in limbo. A narrow line between what had been and what could be — a path split by unspoken arguments, by words stuck in their throats.

“Do you wanna come?”

And then, the invitation. One that wasn’t out of politeness — but intention. Natalie wanted Lottie to go — and Lottie knew it. She knew it now. Maybe she had known all along. Maybe, like she did with her own feelings, she had been hiding Nat’s invitations from herself.

Because she was scared. Still is.

Because taking Natalie’s hand meant diving in, completely. And Lottie couldn’t — or thought she couldn’t — do that.

But in the end, she always did anyway.

And then… then she’d retreat back to the starting point, like a sinner pretending to feel remorse. She’d say yes — and then back away. Take one step forward and, hours later, three back.

But in that moment — in that moment, she just took Natalie’s hand. No questions.

No promises. She would go.

She would go, either way. Even if she pulled away later. Even if she ended up hiding again. That much was clearer than Lottie could see.

Contrary to what Natalie had imagined, Lottie wasn’t one of those girls who took hours to get ready. Surprisingly, she seemed to get ready even faster than Natalie herself — and yet, her outfit always looked meticulously chosen. So her. Simple elegance, but still chic. Still carrying that aura of someone far too refined not to hold herself like that.

It was actually easy to slip away from the adults’ eyes. The four of them met up casually in front of a gas station near the hotel where they were staying. Van and Tai walked up to Lottie and Natalie so close together they looked like a clingy couple — though, well, only to those paying attention. After all, people still cared way too much about who others were sleeping with in the nineties.

Natalie finally got to light her cigarette. It felt like she’d gone so long without smoking she could’ve sworn she was about to start shaking. The first drag was always the most satisfying — the one that filled her lungs, the one that pulled the pleasure straight through the front door. She heard Lottie’s soft laugh. Too graceful, like a kid trying not to laugh at the wrong moment — and failing.

“What?”

She asked, not annoyed, but pretending to be. Like those grumpy old men who get pissed when you stare for too long. 

Lottie only smiled wider — a smile Natalie had forgotten about. But somehow, it was back. They were here, in a different city, in a different moment, running away from their own minds, from all the many problems.

“It’s just… you looked so desperate. It was funny.”

Lottie said, with a shrug. Natalie offered her the cigarette. She took it. Had they gone back to sharing things? Since when had that damn cloud of smoke faded from their lives?

Natalie didn’t know. But she didn’t let herself think about it too much.

“So… where are we going?”

Tai asked, arms crossed, pulling the two girls out of the moment where it seemed like only they existed. They didn’t really know where they were headed, but hopped on the first bus that passed, headed downtown.

First, they strolled through Seattle’s famous open-air markets, tasting a thing or two while weaving through the crowd. Tourists wandered everywhere, carrying oversized bags and coats — completely unfit for the heat.

At some point, Tai and Van wandered off to someplace Natalie didn’t quite catch — and honestly, she didn’t care. They were probably off fucking somewhere half-private, and Nat couldn’t care less.

She still had Lottie with her, and that seemed like enough… for now. And, at some point, she didn’t even want Van around, teasing her for clearly holding hands with Matthews.

Okay, technically, they were just trying not to get separated — but deep down, Natalie knew the redhead knew.

She knew it was more than just practical.

They stopped at a stand full of old books — dusty, yellowed, the kind that made Matthews’ damn brown eyes light up, growing almost too wide for her face.

Natalie just followed her lead, letting the girl spend entire minutes talking to the vendor — who honestly seemed more desperate to get rid of the books than actually invested in what she was selling.

In the end, Lottie bought The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka — Natalie’s recommendation.

Lottie slipped the book into her bag, just like she shoved her worries deep into her chest. Why did everything feel so light? And why couldn’t she just let herself feel that way?

It was almost as if she liked overthinking — as if the anticipation of pain brought her some strange kind of familiarity.

Her heart was quiet with Nat’s hand over hers — and at the same time, her mind was working overtime trying to understand why everything felt so calm. Lottie felt like the people around them were watching, and still, she couldn’t let go of that simple touch guiding her through the crowd.

Why couldn’t she just let it be what it was?

Why couldn’t she allow that warmth to settle in without needing it to burn? She pushed — she pushed because she was tired, because she wanted to stay, because she wanted Natalie. Because, for the first time, even with all the thoughts in her head, she wanted to cross the line. Even if just a little.

Even if only to be beside that girl.

Even if only to hold her hand and let their shoulders brush as they walked, no hurry, no labels, no fear. 

She wanted to.

Lottie wanted to keep holding Natalie’s hand. Maybe it was something about Seattle. Maybe it was about not being completely known here. Maybe it was just the illusion of freedom. 

Lottie wasn’t sure — she was so split she almost missed the small moments. But she didn’t want that. Not here. Not in this moment.At least not now.

They got ice cream from one of the carts scattered around a small plaza with a fountain — the kind people insisted on throwing coins into, making stupid wishes.

“When I was a kid, I used to love stealing coins from these lucky fountains.”

Natalie said it with a light tone, almost teasing, her sharp smile cutting across her face, dimples softening her otherwise rougher edges — but never making her less captivating. Natalie was the perfect mix of sweet and bitter. Something singular, something no one else could ever quite be.

“Maybe that’s why I’m so fucking unlucky.”

Lottie laughed, letting go of Natalie’s hand to manage the ice cream that was melting faster than she could eat it.

“I used to steal clothes from TJ Maxx and then return them. So I’m, like… a TJ millionaire.”

Natalie laughed. Part of her seemed surprised; the other part was far too entertained to let the shock drown out her usual sarcasm.

She smirked, her voice gravelly and playful.

“Wow, rich people are really the worst.”

Lottie just let the moment wash over her. In a way that reminded her of when she didn’t know how to name any of it. Of how much easier things were back then — when she could just be, without thinking. Just existing, just following, driven by something she still couldn’t quite see.

Maybe sneaking away for a few hours hadn’t been such a bad idea. Or rather, it never was. Natalie always did that during team trips, no matter where they went.

But now things were different. She wasn’t even recognizing her own preferences anymore — on any other occasion, she’d be slipping off to smoke a bunch of weed without getting caught or looking for some shady bar to get drunk in.

But now… now she was standing in front of a flower shop, hands stuffed into the pockets of her tiny shorts, waiting for fucking Lottie Matthews to choose between the thousands of flowers she kept stopping to look at, smell, or comment on — because apparently (and obviously) that girl had read something about the meaning of flowers or whatever bullshit that was.

They didn’t even buy any. There was no way they could take care of them until they got back home. But Natalie, somehow, still ended up buying a stupid little pamphlet about flower meanings.

The kind of thing only someone like Lottie Matthews could make her do.

It couldn’t be past two in the afternoon, and still, they had no intention of heading back to the hotel. They walked a little more, stopped at a nearby diner, and then made their way to the aquarium — a must-see attraction they weren’t going to skip.

Obviously, the place was packed with kids — the kind of school trip gift they get right before summer break. They looked euphoric, amazed by every little thing they saw. And Natalie kind of felt the same way, even if she didn’t want to show it.

Lottie mumbled under her breath about how she should’ve brought her camera. Her disappointment was actually kind of funny — so endearing that, for a second, Nat thought she’d love to watch her mumbling about anything, cheeks puffed like some spoiled little girl who didn’t get a new doll.

When had Natalie gotten this soft?

She felt uncomfortable in her own surrender. Tried to remind herself that Lottie still hesitated. That she was still an option — not a choice already made. 

They walked some more, watched the sea life up close, trying to escape the kids who screamed too loud and still somehow managed to be noisy even when they were quiet. At one point, Lottie grabbed Natalie’s arm. Clinging to her. Natalie smiled, letting a quiet chuckle slip through her nose.

“You’re getting clingy, Matthews.”

She teased, nudging the taller girl’s shoulder. And Lottie, as if she didn’t get the joke — or maybe just regretted the impulsive gesture — pulled her arm back.

Natalie looked at her for a few seconds. Then grabbed Lottie’s hand and shoved it into her own pocket. That earned a doubtful laugh from Lottie — but it softened the moment.

The hours slipped by so fast, the girls lost track of them. They were probably already missed at the hotel, but… they were here. Might as well make whatever scolding was waiting for them worth it. It’s not like Nat hadn’t heard it all before — no new threats about being benched. Just the usual empty warnings. Because, in the end, she’d still be right there on the field the next day.

They wandered through downtown a bit more, watched the Seattle waterfront — oddly calm that day. Eventually, they came across a guy renting bikes by the hour. Nat always found that funny — her dirty mind could easily convince her to steal one of those. After all, the guy was relying solely on people’s word that the bikes would be returned. At least, that’s how she saw it. But she was honest enough to bring them back by the end of the afternoon.

They rode all the way to Green Lake Park, where there was a perfect trail for biking. Natalie and Lottie tried to stay close to each other. Sometimes, Nat let go of the handlebars, doing something silly, arms wide open — and Lottie laughed at that kind of childish freedom.

They stopped in a quieter spot, near the side of the lake where people swam and rowed small boats around. They left the bikes on the ground, sat down against a tree, and watched the sky slowly melt into orange as the afternoon faded. Couples began to leave, little by little, and the park grew quieter. 

No words were spoken. They just let the moment play out like music in their ears — and let Lottie still be there, beside Natalie.

In whatever way she could be.

Lottie’s thoughts always seemed to return in moments like that, filling her chest with a familiar burn — a feeling that almost made her feel okay. It was like she’d grown so used to it that, somehow, she missed it. Maybe she needed to speak. Maybe she needed to name it. Not because she exactly wanted to — but because it felt right. It felt right to say something to someone who, apparently, was right there — waiting for her, with no guarantees.

Was she selfish for holding it back? What kind of person was Lottie? She didn’t know. She had spent most of her time mulling that over somewhere deep in her own consciousness. Until, suddenly, she shattered the thunderous silence of things left unsaid.

“What are we supposed to be?”

The question slipped from her lips like a crack forming in her own armor. Or at least, an attempt for her voice to slip through the seams.

She was still scared. God, she was terrified. But there was also this impulsiveness eating away at her. It was almost contradictory — Lottie contradicted herself all the time. She was a puzzle, even to herself.

“I don’t know. We can be whatever you want us to be. I just like being with you, Lottie. So call it whatever you want… or don’t call it anything, until you’re ready.”

Warmth. 

That’s what Natalie gave her. And for some reason, something inside Lottie insisted she didn’t deserve it. She wanted to pull away — but crumbled in the face of such gentleness.The effortless way Natalie carried all of it.

How could she handle it so well?

“I like being with you too.”

She admitted it. Softly. Shyly. But not hesitantly. Maybe scared — but not uncertain.

She wet her lips, looked down, and let the silence settle again. There was a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth, even with the tension still hanging in the air — as the sun sank further into the horizon, casting golden streaks across the water.

“How should I call you, if I were your boyfriend?”

This time, it was Natalie who broke the silence. They had, unintentionally, fallen back into that old game — but this time, it was wrapped in hesitation.

There was something hanging between them. A barrier that pushed them apart but, at the same time, seemed to pull them closer. Natalie chuckled softly after the question. A memory hit her, and Lottie could see it in her eyes.

“I don’t think I like boys.”

It slipped out. A confession Lottie had never spoken out loud before. Something she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself. But somehow, there, she was bare in front of Natalie. Stripped of even the barriers she’d usually keep up to protect herself from… herself. She bit the inside of her cheek. There was a certain weight to that admission — and at the same time… it was freeing.

“If I were your girlfriend, then…”

Natalie didn’t flinch. She said it like she wasn’t judging Lottie for anything.

And she wasn’t.

Not that Natalie wasn’t in a similar kind of boat — but it was different. Nat liked boys too. The ease with which she spoke gave Lottie a strange sense of calm. Not complete, but enough. Still, Natalie tried, in every possible way, to pull a smile from Lottie — one she stubbornly tried to hold back.

“Princess? Babe? My sweetheart?”

She teased, in that tone of hers. Maybe it was the tone. Maybe it was just the way Natalie handled everything. Lottie didn’t know. All she knew was that her heart was beating too fast — like it might burst out of her chest.

“I don’t think princess would work in all situations.”

She clicked her tongue, entering the game. Still too shy, but entering.

“Sweetheart?”

Her cheeks ached. They were probably red. Natalie seemed to delight in it — which somehow made Lottie feel worse… and at the same time, better. She felt feverish — warm, intoxicated, overcome by a sensation that burned her cheeks, her neck, her chest.

“That one’s way too sweet, anyway.”

She replied, feigning escape.

Natalie rolled her eyes and called her name in that dragged-out voice — in that way only she could:

“Laaawttieee.”

Lottie laughed at the mock indignation. She was out of herself. Her thoughts clouded, her heart full. So she played along with Natalie’s fake annoyance:

“That one you can use, but only when you’re, like, really in love with me.”

She clicked her tongue again. It came out quicker than she’d thought. Natalie’s sarcastic grin was her reward — and it was enough to make her forget the echoing thoughts that almost tried to pull her back.

But they didn’t.

They had no idea the space they were occupying. Then Natalie moved closer. She sat on her legs, right in front of Lottie. A little taller, on her knees. Almost solemn. Almost too intimate.

“Don’t get cocky, Lawttie.”

She whispered in that raspy, biting voice — laced with sarcasm, but also something more.

Lottie’s heart thudded wildly.

Was Natalie’s nose really touching hers?

Why were her eyes that close?

Was Natalie in love with her?

Did she just hear a sarcastic confession of it?

Lottie didn’t know.

She just followed her most careful, oldest instincts.

And she kissed her.

Natalie really wasn’t expecting it. She let out a breath at Matthews’ sudden action, but didn’t hesitate for a second. As soon as she realized what was happening, she kissed her back.

It wasn’t hungry, nor desperate. And though it was purely needed — almost painfully so — it was warmly slow. Lottie let herself be guided by Natalie. The two of them seemed to know each other’s every move, syncing, fitting together almost instantly like two damn soulmates — or whatever kind of bullshit people say, the kind Natalie never really believed in.

But right there, as she gently pulled Matthews’ lower lip between hers, she could easily start to believe.

And Lottie… Lottie swore she could feel Natalie smiling. She thought she might be smiling too, and wasn’t even sure how they hadn’t stumbled over each other yet. She wasn’t exactly experienced in this — in fact, this was almost her first real kiss.

And unlike when it was with a boy… this time, she liked it.

Natalie didn’t have that strong scent boys usually had. She didn’t have a beard. Her lips weren’t too rough. She had a breath that tasted like cigarettes and ice cream — a weird mix Lottie somehow found endearing.

She liked it. She liked it — and that’s why the guilt hit her.

The kiss ended sooner than she expected. Her throat tightened. Guilt? Regret? Not exactly. Because she didn’t feel bad. Natalie was smiling. And she wanted to smile too. She wanted to kiss her again. She did. She didn’t regret it. But maybe she should.

Natalie held her face, leaning in for a second kiss. And Lottie… Lottie hesitated.

Not abruptly. She just let their noses stay touching.

“I think… I think we should go.”

Chapter Text

It felt strange when they got back to the hotel.

Lottie was terribly quiet, as if trapped inside her own thoughts, walking like someone floating through a minefield.

Their hands were still intertwined, and Natalie could feel the girl’s fingers squeezing hers tightly — like she needed something to hold on to, something to keep her from getting lost inside herself.

Natalie didn’t dare say anything either. There was something about that silence that felt bittersweet. An echo of the slow kiss they had shared earlier, of the almost unbelievable sweetness that had enveloped them… followed, maybe, by a cold shower of reality. Or regret?

Was Lottie regretting it?

Natalie didn’t know.

That firm grip on her hand, the fact they were still walking so close, or the way Lottie had rested her cheek on Natalie’s shoulder on the bus… none of it felt like something someone regretful would do.

So why the silence?

Why that closed-off, mysterious expression — even for someone like Lottie?

What was going on in Matthews’s mind was a question that hammered relentlessly inside Natalie’s own.

But she didn’t ask. She could feel they needed that silence for just a little while longer.

They entered the hotel together, avoiding the distracted gazes of the adults, who seemed far more concerned with their own issues to notice anything out of the ordinary. They were already nearing their room when Lottie suddenly pulled her back.

Without warning, she hugged her tightly, hiding her face in the curve of Natalie’s neck.

And then came the crying — sudden, quiet, restrained, and yet too painful to be silenced completely. A cry Lottie clearly couldn’t hold back anymore.

Natalie wrapped her arms around her and simply… let her.

Let her cry. Let Lottie pour out everything that still scared her, everything that still hurt. She held her tightly, the way she hadn’t been able to the first time she heard her confess, the way she had wanted to from the beginning.

She understood. She understood pain. She understood the chains Lottie carried. And she didn’t judge.

No one in the ’90s talked openly about certain things — not kindly, not safely. Natalie knew that.

She knew how much it hurt to grow up like that. She knew how much it hurt to be like that. And so she didn’t say a word. She just stayed there. Present. Whole.

For her.

There was a stone in Lottie’s chest.

Not because she regretted it — she didn’t, not for a second, even if part of her felt like she should.

She had liked it. And liking it — wanting it — just proved how deeply she desired it. How much she felt. It was terrifying. Overwhelming. But it was real. And too powerful to deny.

Lottie didn’t want to push Natalie away. She didn’t want distance. And honestly… she wasn’t sure she had the strength for that now.

Because Natalie was the only thing that made her feel okay inside herself. The only person who made her feel like there was space in the world for her to exist — exactly as she was, with everything she carried.

She was the only person who saw her. Really saw her — without Lottie ever needing to show herself.

Natalie read her like a beloved book left on the nightstand. The kind you already know by heart but always come back to, searching for the comfort of familiar words.

And yet, every time, discovering something new.

That’s how Lottie felt with Natalie. Seen. Wanted. Worshipped.

And more than anything… understood.

And maybe that was exactly what hurt — how beautiful it was. How hard. But even with the fear, even with the stone in her chest, Lottie wanted to keep feeling. Because now she knew: this was exactly how she liked feeling.

“I’m sorry…”

She whispered it softly, sniffling, allowing herself to be vulnerable — as she truly was.

Because with Natalie… with Natalie, she could be.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed. Her nose red, her eyes still too wet. A shy little smile slipped out at the corner of her lips, like someone visibly flustered but trying to pull herself back together.

“It’s okay…”

Natalie said gently, in that tone that always seemed to understand more than she said.

She stroked Lottie’s hair before loosening the hug — but Lottie didn’t want to let go. She stayed close, resting her cheek back on Natalie’s shoulder, feeling her body pressed against Nat’s like a painful kind of comfort.

It scared her.

It scared her because it hurt.

And it also scared her because… it was the only thing that made the pain go away.

It was like having a knife lodged in her chest. Pulling it out would kill her. But pressing it in, just enough, brought a strange relief — painful, but bearable. Just enough to hold on until help came.

And that was it.

Her feelings for Natalie were the knife. And Nat — Nat was the soft-hearted killer, the one holding the blade to her chest, keeping her alive even after almost destroying her.

“Do you want me to give you some time alone?”

Scatorccio asked, the question genuine. It came from a place of deep respect — from someone who knew when to leave, but also when to stay.

“I want you to stay.”

Lottie replied, quietly.

And for the first time in a long time… she was absolutely sure of what she was saying.

They entered the room and sat on Lottie’s bed, together, in silence. Unsure of what should be said — if anything needed to be — but still… together. As if the words Lottie had spoken earlier were enough to keep them there.

Their legs tangled like they used to, but now there was a new shyness to it. Because now they knew. Now they were certain of what it meant. They liked each other. Wanted each other but wanting doesn’t always come easy. And Natalie knew that.

She knew because she felt Lottie — in a way that was hard to explain. It was strange, but she felt it. As if Matthews’ pain also lived inside her. As if Lottie’s emotions vibrated on her own skin. It was something about connection. Something deep. Something Natalie had never really believed in — but somehow, here, it was real.

“Shouldn’t Laura Lee be around here?”

Natalie broke the silence, slightly frowning as she noticed the absence of Lottie’s friend. They shared the room, and it was strange Laura Lee wasn’t there.

Lottie simply adjusted her bangs — a movement so common, so hers, that Natalie could already predict it, and maybe that was the only thing about Matthews she could predict. She knew what that meant: she was choosing her words carefully.

“She’s probably out there with some of the girls… She would never sleep without Leonard.”

She answered, her voice still hoarse, but calm. A graceful knot at the neck. She wouldn’t lose her poise, not even now. Not even crying. Not even this vulnerable.

Lottie was graceful in everything.

Graceful in defense. 

Graceful in vulnerability.

And maybe… maybe that was what pulled her in the most. And now Natalie was cursed, irreversibly doomed to worship Lottie Matthews.

And they just stayed there. In that strange silence, maybe a little too praised, but they stayed.

The next morning, they woke up together.

It was good. And also terrifying.

Lottie opened her eyes slowly, feeling the light — and yet immense — weight of Natalie on her chest. The girl’s breathing was calm, slow, almost childlike. She was clinging to Lottie’s sides like she was holding on to avoid falling off a cliff.

Lottie smiled, a small, quiet smile. Even with the tight knot in her chest. The day before had really happened. Natalie had spilled herself over her — and she had, too. They really had kissed. And now they were here. Sleeping as if the world didn’t exist.

But it did.

Had Laura Lee seen them like that? Should she care? I mean… they weren’t doing anything. Just sleeping. But — what if Laura Lee had figured something out? Something she already knew and apparently didn’t care about. But Lottie cared, and that made her spiral a little.

What if she had realized Lottie had crossed that so-called line of sin?

Lottie’s gaze slid to the other bed. Laura Lee slept peacefully, curled up in her sheets, clutching Leonard — the old teddy bear she treated with more reverence than some treated the Bible.

Leonard was holier than Lottie now. And maybe that made sense. Laura Lee deserved to have something pure to hold onto.

And Lottie… well. Lottie had Natalie.

And as terrifying as that was, it also made her breathe a little easier. That was Lottie Matthews being terribly contradictory — because lately, her most restrained impulses, her thoughts and actions, made no semantic sense.

“Nat…”

Lottie gently touched the girl’s shoulder, whispering her name, shaking her lightly, as if afraid of waking her from the wrong kind of dream.

Natalie only grumbled — a muffled, lazy sound, like a spoiled child refusing to wake up. The kind that, if forced to open her eyes, would complain for the rest of the day.

Lottie laughed.

And laughed without meaning to.

It was a soft, intimate laugh. The kind that escapes when the heart forgets for a second that the world is complicated.

Because the way Natalie grumbled was adorable. The way she looked so fragile was adorable. So far from the unbreakable, unreadable, tough Nat — the girl everyone saw but no one ever really touched, no matter how often they tried.

But here, now, she seemed made of cotton. And Lottie knew — deep in her chest — that maybe Natalie was only like that with her.

Only for her.

And that certainty was enough to numb the pain, even if just for a moment.

In the afternoon, they had practice. The next day, they’d be playing for a spot in the semifinals — and then, the finals. The focus on the ball left no room for anything else.

Natalie followed Coach Scott’s drills, running across the field, controlling the ball, trying to get past the defense. Testing her endurance, her own limits.

The girls passed the ball, practiced free kicks, played against each other like they always did. It was exhausting. But it was a good practice.

Now, they were heading to the locker room near the training field — the next team would arrive in a few minutes, and they had to clear the space.

Natalie wiped the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her training shirt. The girls stepped into the showers, and once they were ready, rushed out to grab the best seats on the bus back to the hotel. But Nat didn’t care about that. She rested on the bench for a while as the locker room emptied — then headed to the shower, taking her time to wash away the sweat and the infernal heat clinging to her skin.

Not exactly a summer enthusiast, anyway.

By the time she was ready, almost everyone had left. Well, everyone except one person.

Lottie was still there, standing in front of the mirror, fixing her hair with vanity. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like. But now Natalie knew — she wasn’t just arranging her wavy hair. She was waiting for her. But… for what?

“Oh… I thought you’d be rushing to the bus to grab the best seat.”

She started, teasing. Testing the waters with a jab — the kind of game they knew well, the kind that always resurfaced during defensive moments, when neither of them knew exactly where to step.

Lottie turned. There was a slight furrow between her brows. Her body language was the same as always — elegant, composed, charming. But now Natalie saw something else. Maybe a subtle insecurity.

“Um… I was waiting for you.”

She admitted, scratching her forehead, like that could erase the tension ready to spill.

Natalie did what she always did: flashed a grin too sharp to vanish easily. Teasing, but not cruel. Just… well, just Nat.

“Oh, right… but it would’ve been smarter if you’d saved our seats.”

She joked, stepping closer. Grabbed her backpack and stood next to her.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Lottie mumbled, circling the idea just to admit it. Natalie simply nodded, a silent “I’m listening.” But Matthews stayed quiet.

“Are you feeling any better?”

She asked, gently touching on what she suspected was caught in the girl’s throat — but did it with care, not confrontation. There was intention in her softness.

“I don’t know.”

Lottie sighed, fidgeting with her fingers in her palm — a nervous habit. Her shoulders dropped, like she was finally allowing herself to feel the weight.

“But I don’t regret it. And that… makes me think something worse.”

Was that a confession? Maybe what happened the day before had really unlocked something. Natalie exhaled sharply, tired. She didn’t quite know what to say.

“What are you going to do?”

It was a simple question. But it made Natalie feel silly — because, deep down, it was just a way to prepare herself for possible distance.

“I… I keep thinking about pulling away again, because it doesn’t feel right… but…”

Lottie’s voice was quiet, reserved, overly polished — but no less sincere.

“Being away from you feels more wrong than this.”

That hit something in her — something deep, maybe old. It hurt a little. But it also warmed. And suddenly, Natalie didn’t quite know what to say. What do you say to something like that? What do you do when someone like Lottie says it that way?

It was hard. But even so, she tried — because, well, her damn life was about that. About trying, even when it felt impossible.

“Just… do whatever you want to do.”

It didn’t sound harsh. It came from a real place. A corner of herself not often visited. It was the first thing that came out — raw, direct, imperfect — but for some reason, it was enough.

Because Lottie kissed her again. Without thinking. Without asking. Without running. An impulsive kiss, but a firm one. A kiss that knew exactly where it wanted to land.

Lottie was tired of herself.

Tired of the contradiction consuming her from the inside, of the doubts spinning in endless circles, of the chain of thoughts that never left her alone. She just wanted to switch off — lean toward one side, stop being this taut rope stretched between desire and fear.

And then, her impulse took over.

Pulled her hard.

The problem was, now, she couldn’t hold anything back.

Everything felt like a tug-of-war happening inside her, but in that moment, the rational side — the one that felt fear, guilt, that tried to protect — was losing. It was still trying, still pulling hard on the rope, but it was falling behind.

Losing… because Lottie was getting lost in Natalie’s lips. Losing… because her desires were gaining ground.

They kissed again, right there, in the locker room — at first quick, clumsy, like an inevitable stumble. And then, it slowed. As if they wanted to linger in it. As if they had all the time in the world.

Natalie stroked the nape of Lottie’s neck with warm, steady fingers, while their tongues moved together in an intimate, competitive, hungry dance.

And it felt good.

Lottie liked it.

She wanted it.

Her fingers delicately traced the line of Nat’s jaw, almost reverently, as if she were sketching a feature she had visited in her mind a thousand times. Her skin was warm, alive, real — and it made her burn from the inside out.

They pulled apart when air became necessary — and, well, when they heard footsteps approaching the locker room.

Lottie grabbed her things quickly, cast one last glance at Nat, and walked out toward the bus.

Natalie followed right behind.

The two of them sat together on the way back, in the front seats — not by choice, but because the back was already taken by those who had gotten there first.

They had won. They were going to the final. They were going to play.

The bus ride back to the hotel was pure chaos — loud voices, girls singing, shouting, laughing, imitating the sound of the team’s mascot.

The Yellowjackets were good. Really good. And making it to the nationals final was a huge milestone in any teenage team’s life. Nat and Lottie exchanged distant glances amidst the celebration. And when they arrived at the hotel, the mood was no different.

Some random song was playing on a battery-powered radio. There were alcoholic drinks a few of them had bought at a gas station. And that had passed easily under the adults’ radar, who didn’t really care what the girls were doing — as long as no one turned up dead or caused any trouble the next day.

Jackie, Shauna, and Lottie shared snacks, jokes, and laughter around the pool. Mari was stuffing her face with milkshakes. Van and Tai were swimming. The rest of the girls were dancing to some silly song that anyone who turned on a radio would recognize.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except for the glances — and shy smiles — exchanged between Natalie and Lottie. Distant. A little complicit.

Something that repeated constantly, whether in conflict or in longing. As if, no matter the situation, one was always looking for the other. As if they were powerful magnets, able to recognize and draw each other in even across long distances.

It was a quiet, distant conversation. The kind that doesn’t happen for everyone — only for them.

That movie kind of thing. Book kind of thing. The kind that arises when two people like each other, surround each other, orbit each other. When they know each other so deeply they don’t even know where to start anymore.

But the world exists. The world is there, between them. Their lives are full of other people, other stories, other pain. Distractions from the past they can’t — and maybe don’t even want to — erase.

But for some reason — in that moment, in that life — you recognize that person more than anyone else. And maybe that’s why, just because of that, the worlds collide. They create a parallel dimension, intimate, secret, where anything — the tiniest thing — means something. 

Where everything means something. And everything matters. Too important to be dismissed. Too intense to be forgotten. Even if one of them wants to. Because that’s what they’re made of.

Lottie got distracted for a while, losing sight of Natalie amid the conversation with Jackie, who was saying something about the game, about the nerves before the final and how they needed to stay focused. During that moment, Nat disappeared. Lottie noticed because, every now and then, her eyes would wander involuntarily, searching for her.

When she finally spotted her, she looked over to the smoking area.

Natalie was there, cigarette between her fingers, enjoying it like she was savoring a once-in-a-lifetime moment.

“Hey…”

Lottie walked up to her slowly, watching in silence. She looked angelic. Too beautiful to be real. Too beautiful to be just an uncertainty. And maybe because of that, Natalie had become her only certainty — A certainty wrapped in guilt, fear, rejection of the self. And yet, a certainty. Lottie had no doubts she liked her. No doubts she wanted her. She just had no idea what to do about it.

“Hey.”

Natalie replied, relaxed but thoughtful. She seemed a little distant, sunk into inertia. She had done a lot that day: precise passes, sharp strikes, strategic plays. Nat was a leader. Naturally.

“I guess I’m not the one running away now.”

Lottie teased, leaning against the railing beside her. Natalie laughed — husky, as always. That melodious sound that made Lottie forget things.

“I’m not running away from you, Matthews.” She said sarcastically, bumping her shoulder lightly. “I was luring you out here.”

Lottie gave a sheepish smile, lowering her gaze. Her brown eyes would crinkle when she smiled, and her cheekbones stood out in an utterly charming way — something Nat couldn’t help but notice.

“What would we do here… if we never went back?”

The question sparked something in Natalie. Her eyebrows knitted together, curious about the reason behind it. She put out her cigarette on the railing and leaned beside Lottie.

“I don’t know… maybe we’d rob a bank and gamble it all in some shady casino.”

She joked, flashing her crooked smile. Lottie played along. A light moment between them — a breather.

“Then… we’d open a massive record label. And you’d be a rockstar. And I… hmm…”

She looked up, thinking, furrowing her brow and puckering her lips.

“The rockstar’s girlfriend.”

Natalie cut in before she could finish. It was just a joke — like so many between them — but Lottie was a little caught off guard. Natalie almost changed the subject to keep the mood light, but, surprisingly, Lottie replied first:

“Hmm… so you’d write a bunch of songs about me?”

She tried to cover the impact with a short, dismissive laugh. Hid behind sarcasm, like always.

“Of course I would. Something like… she’s an annoying rich girl, but I can’t stop staring at her.”

Natalie grinned, teasing. Lottie shoved her, mockingly offended, rolling her eyes with theatrical flair.

“That doesn’t even rhyme…”

Then laughed. Too lightly for someone who’d cried on Natalie’s shoulder twenty-four hours earlier. Too lightly for someone who said she didn’t know what to do. Because sometimes, Natalie just wanted her to know.

“Fuck the song’s rhyme.”

She said, still smiling. And Lottie smiled just as wide — the kind of smile that makes your eyes narrow a little.

“You’re terrible!”

Lottie said through laughter. And they stayed there. They shared a cigarette. Shared silences. Intentional touches. Fingers that searched for each other, parted, recognized. Then they went back to the room. Tomorrow would be a long day.

The game started tense — more because of the players than the match itself. On the field, everything seemed relatively under control, but emotionally… emotionally, there was always an anxious struggle between the desire to win and the fear of losing.

Jackie led the team, kept everyone united, inspired like a true captain. But it was Natalie — Nat — who truly shaped the game on the field.

It wasn’t a matter of rivalry between the two. Jackie was the declared leader, had charisma, influence, managed to keep the group cohesive when no one else could. But Nat… Nat was the practical force. She was the one who made the plays happen, who directed the passes, who covered ground and provided support. She played with intelligence, with vision. And that — that was a different kind of leadership.

The game was intense, short plays, little breathing room. The other team was also fighting tooth and nail. Still, the first goal came early in the first half, scored by Melissa. They celebrated, yes, but the tension still didn’t ease.

The second goal — scored by Jackie — brought screams, jumps, hugs. But caution remained, because it wasn’t over yet.

The other team struck back. A sharp corner kick sailed through the air and tore into the net defended by Van. A goal that landed like a punch, a crack in their confidence. Still, they held on.

They fought until the last minute — through ten minutes of stoppage time that felt endless, with a whistle that never seemed to come, as if the referee were testing everyone’s limits.

But in the end, they won. They endured. They stayed united. And they won.

The celebration on the field was unmatched — shouts, hugs, tears, jumps. It was done. They had made it. And now they could scream all they wanted, with no fear of tomorrow — because tomorrow there would be no more games, no more tests, no more obligations.

Lifting the national trophy felt surreal. There was a ceremony, medals around their necks, more euphoria than their bodies could contain. The trophy passed from hand to hand like a sacred symbol. Photos, poses, ridiculous dances — the only possible way to release all that adrenaline, all that sweat, all that victory.

They went out to celebrate. The adults did too — everyone was far too excited not to. So, that night, they all gathered at a restaurant downtown, sharing laughs, stories, drinks.

Euphoric teenagers, imagining what it would be like to return to school with a trophy in tow. It meant a lot — to them, to the team, to everything. And, for now, they could brag about being champions.

They told embarrassing and funny stories about each other — the kind only locker rooms, road trips, and grueling practices could produce. Everything seemed fine. They’d go home with that. And for Natalie, that was enough.

She saw Lottie step away from the group with the same subtle grace she carried into everything she did. So subtle it was hard to tell if she was really leaving or just going to the bathroom. But something clicked inside Natalie. A silent signal, maybe a tightening in her chest. And when she saw the slope of Lottie’s shoulders disappear out the front door, she knew. She followed.

She found Lottie leaning against the restaurant’s brick wall, under the sign, on a quiet street muffled by the night. The yellowish light bathed her in a calm that didn’t match the restlessness in her eyes. Nat approached slowly, hands in her jacket pockets, and leaned on the wall beside her.

“Why did you leave?”

She asked after a few seconds. Her voice was low, but filled with care. Lottie looked distant. A quiet kind of pain hung in the air, as if something heavy weighed on her shoulders.

“I don’t know if I want to go back home.”

She said it like a secret, softly, but loud enough for Natalie to hear. She didn’t quite understand — not yet — but she knew she had to try.

“It’s okay, Lottie.”

She said gently, touching the girl’s shoulder, turning to face her. She softly ran her hand down Lottie’s arm until it reached her hand, holding it with tenderness — in her own way. Maybe a little rough, a little clumsy, but sincere.

“If I go back… nothing will be okay.”

Lottie’s voice trembled. Her brown eyes were glossy, and her lips carried a hesitation that looked like she was about to fall apart.

“If I go back… I… you… I won’t be able to be with you.”

The silence was heavy. Nat squeezed her hand. It was all there again, like the day they kissed for the first time. That pain that didn’t come from rejection, but from fear. Real fear.

“Nothing will be okay because… I won’t be able to be this. I won’t be able to be… me.”

It was like Lottie was trying to escape her own body. Like the reality outside was too big for the shape she wanted to take. Like loving Natalie meant letting go of everything she was taught was right — and she was tired of pretending that didn’t hurt.

“I don’t want to lose you, Nat. I don’t want to push you away… but I think I need time.”

Nat nodded, saying nothing. She knew what that meant. The waiting was back. And once again, she’d have to place that girl in the space of something desired but not yet reached — like a dream you keep tucked away while reality demands you be present.

She didn’t quite know how to feel. It was bittersweet. Bitter at the end. Like winning the game… but losing what really mattered. That absurd feeling of achieving everything — except the one thing that, deep down, mattered the most.

Chapter Text

Coming back from the trip left a strange feeling in Lottie’s chest — a certain kind of anguish, though not exactly anguish itself. Maybe it was a misinterpreted frustration, or a confusing mix of emotions she didn’t even know where to start unraveling.

It was like those Christmas lights you store in the basement all year, and when you finally need them, they’re so tangled it feels impossible to separate them. Some don’t even work anymore. So you rush to the nearest store, buy new ones, and pretend everything is under control. That’s how she felt. And at the same time, she wished she weren’t feeling anything at all.

It felt like something was missing. As if the joy of winning the national championship had been muffled. As if it didn’t have enough strength to reach her completely. As if she had achieved something… only to realize, too late, that maybe it wasn’t exactly what she needed.

They were on the bus, heading to the airport, and every kilometer they traveled felt like a silent countdown — a slow march back into a cage of limitations.

Natalie sat beside her. Kind. Calm. Understanding. As if all the hardness she showed to the world simply vanished in front of Lottie. It was like Natalie had tucked away a secret layer of herself, reserved exclusively for her.

And Lottie didn’t know when, exactly, she had gained access to that — or at what moment it had become her right. But the fact was: it was there. She had it. And somehow, that only made everything harder. Because, deep down, she felt that maybe… maybe she didn’t deserve it.

She wondered, between one curve in the road and another, if she was being unfair to Nat. Even now, even after everything, she told herself she would come back. That she just needed some time, some space to figure herself out. That’s what Natalie chose to believe. And maybe that was the hardest part: the fact that Natalie trusted her. And Lottie knew trust wasn’t something easy for Scartoccio.

Why did she do it? Why did she trust me? — Lottie asked herself that constantly. It was a question that spun through her deepest thoughts, echoing in the darkest corners of her heart. And it hurt. It hurt because the answer might say more about Natalie than about herself. And that made her feel even smaller. Smaller because she was incapable of doing anything for Natalie at that moment.

“Don’t think too much, your head’s getting big.”

Natalie whispered beside her, giving her a light tap on the shoulder. It was a tease in that playful tone she always used, but now it came wrapped in a tension too hard to ignore. It wasn’t like before. Not like when flirting came easy, casual, wrapped in the comfortable lightness of not knowing — when neither of them quite knew what any of this meant.

“Oh… right.”

Lottie tried to smile. Part of it was genuine — because, despite everything, for a few more hours, she would still be there. With Natalie.

Even if their world was shifting back into place. Even if that place hurt.

She rested her hand on the blonde’s, in a slow, almost timid gesture. And when Natalie held it — with that care only she seemed capable of — Lottie felt like her hand was one of Nat’s favorite records — maybe the rarest, the most fragile, one of those you can’t scratch without ruining the whole song.

Their fingers intertwined in a quiet, intimate gesture, small, almost invisible to everyone else. But enormous, meaningful. Theirs.

“What were you thinking about?”

Natalie asked, trying to sound relaxed. Her tone still had a touch of teasing, but there was a weight in her shoulders that didn’t go unnoticed. The tension between them was delicate, a sort of dance between fear and affection.

“No… let me guess.”

The sarcasm curved at the corner of her mouth, sharp, perfectly rehearsed for any kind of moment, bringing with it an almost-forced lightness.

“Your next summer trip? Another ridiculously expensive dress you’ll buy? Or maybe a pool party with all your rich girl friends?”

The joke landed. It worked. Lottie laughed. She truly laughed. And that small, sincere laugh — for a second — broke the heavy air between them.

“I was thinking about you…”

A smile spread across Lottie’s face — and this time, it wasn’t a mask. It was real, soft, the kind that only appears when Natalie is around. Even on bad days, even when the inner demons are louder than the world.

Her tone came out half-playful, half-serious, that impossible middle ground where you can’t quite tell where the joke ends and the truth begins. But Lottie knew. And so did Natalie.

“Oh, yeah…? Which of my many qualities were stuck in your head, Matthews?”

The blonde replied with a sly smile that slowly grew at the corner of her mouth, until it bloomed into an almost insolent sparkle in her green eyes. A laugh caught in her throat, laced with light sarcasm — the kind that mocks not just the other, but her own admiration.

It was funny: Natalie was sharp, even abrasive — but all it took was that smile, just the appearance of her dimples, and everything in her softened. Lottie noticed it.

She noticed it and wanted to kiss her again, right then and there. Wanted to forget the rest of the world and give in to that impulse. But she looked away.

“I was thinking about how cocky you are.”

She said while fixing her hair with her free hand — because the other, the other was still far too busy holding Natalie’s.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. They sat apart on the plane — Lottie next to Laura Lee, Natalie with Travis. Nothing unusual, nothing unexpected. Just the feeling of something slipping from her chest, as if everything was slowly turning into a quiet goodbye — the kind you feel before it even happens.

“You and Natalie…”

Laura Lee asked suddenly, breaking the silence, as if she had only just connected the dots — or maybe she’d always known, but only now felt it was time to say something.

Lottie sighed. Braced for judgment. Even knowing it wouldn’t come. She was used to it. But she was also tired.

She answered with a crooked little “yeah,” quiet, without making eye contact.

And to her surprise, Laura Lee smiled — not a pitying smile, nor the kind of smile from someone who thinks they know better, but a real one. Reassuring.

The smile of someone who understands. Who sees. And doesn’t think themselves bigger for it.

They didn’t say anything else.

Laura just leaned her head on Lottie’s shoulder, eyes closed.

And Lottie smiled — involuntarily, faintly, born from a strange kind of relief. A gentle sense of acceptance. And for a brief moment, it was enough.

Natalie was back in her life — back to her shop, to her internal mess that, deep down, was too rich to be tidied up. As if, somehow, she had learned to live that way. And now, at some point, had even learned to like it. She figured she’d probably be suspicious if things were ever too calm, if everything felt too good.

Not that she didn’t enjoy the happy moments — she did, as much as she could. She lived her teenage years freely, the way she could, the way she wanted. But she also lived constantly on edge, distrusting life itself, like someone always bracing for the first punch. And maybe, deep down, she always was.

Because nothing came easy for Natalie Scatorccio, but somehow — in some fucked-up way — she’d make it work.

Kevin had left the shop perfectly intact. She couldn’t deny her friend was the responsible type, even if a little clumsy and goofy. Still, he kept his word.

Nat checked the records, walked around the shop with the usual care — not out of arrogance, because she knew Kevin had handled it — but from genuine concern. She loved that shop more than she loved any human being on Earth.

Once she gave in, she went to her room, threw her backpack on the bed and sat down, kicking off her shoes and digging in her jacket pocket for her cigarette pack and lighter. Her hands trembled as she lit one.

When she went to put them back in the usual pocket, she felt something brush against her fingers. She frowned and pulled out a small envelope — so small she couldn’t even imagine how it had been made, maybe from a piece cut from a regular sheet of paper. It wasn’t bigger than a passport photo.

A crease of doubt formed between her brows. She hadn’t noticed when it was put there — or by whom — but she had a pretty good idea.

She carefully opened it and found, inside, one of the pictures they’d taken in the photo booth at the amusement park. The one where Lottie kissed her cheek while she was making a ridiculous face.

She smiled instantly. Flipped the photo over. She knew Matthews well enough to guess she’d found a way to write something, even if tiny, on the back.

To my dearest, Natalie

Nat laughed, shaking her head, her entire face glowing with a grin from ear to ear — the kind of grin she’d be embarrassed to show, the kind she’d hide if she weren’t alone.

To my dearest, Natalie? That girl was painfully dramatic. Where the hell had she come from? A goddamn period romance by Charlotte Brontë or whatever kind of novels she read?

I’ll come back to you…

I promise!

She shook her head — not because she doubted the promise, but because she needed to shake off that ridiculously foolish grin on her face. Still, she kept the photo somewhere safe — tucked it inside her wallet, where it couldn’t be lost.

Summer break.

Nat hadn’t been wrong when she joked that Lottie would probably be at some pool party full of rich girls.

Well — not that cliché exactly — just Jackie and Shauna insisting they should start going out again, because lately Lottie had felt like an old, distant friend. The kind who only picked up the phone once in a while, who always had some excuse to avoid plans, as if she were too tangled in her own thoughts to make room for anything — or anyone — else in her life.

She hadn’t seen Natalie again.

Hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t called — and well… she wouldn’t. Because she knew that if she went back now, she’d be telling that girl she was ready. And she wasn’t. As much as she wanted to be. As much as she longed for it — imagined it deeply — she simply wasn’t. 

Fear still held her back.

The inner war still raged on, like a battle that had ended on the battlefield but kept festering through political disputes — and that kind of war could be just as devastating. Less bloody, because no one was dying. But not any less damaging, because the pain lingered. Persistent. Quiet. Fierce.

“I thought Nat would be here…”

Jackie brought it up — a topic that almost felt summoned by how much Lottie’s thoughts had been orbiting that girl. It was like the universe was punishing her for not choosing, for not deciding, for keeping her waiting. Lottie bit the inside of her lip. It didn’t sound like a provocative question — not coming from Jackie. It just sounded genuine, curious. After all, Nat wasn’t a stranger among them anymore.

“She’s really busy with the store.”

She lied. The answer came fast, sharp like a freshly sharpened knife — the kind that cuts before you even feel it. Jackie accepted it, shrugged, grabbed the sunscreen from Shauna’s hands and started applying it to her friend’s back… or, Lottie supposed she should say, girlfriend’s? Because, well, now she knew Shauna and Jackie were a thing. And it felt strange — because she should’ve felt comfortable enough to talk about her own feelings for Nat, but for some reason… for some reason, she just couldn’t.

Shauna, on the other hand, didn’t seem entirely convinced. She gave Lottie that same look she always gave — the one she used when she sensed something was off. And, as always, Lottie looked away before it could pierce through her.

“So what are you guys doing… I mean, for summer break?”

She changed the subject like someone discreetly trying to correct a wrong turn on the road. But, well… she got to the point anyway, because Jackie immediately lit up, eager to talk about the trip she was planning to take to Finland and all the things she wanted to see. Lottie faked interest almost automatically, nodding at all the right moments. Shauna, as always, would follow Jackie — no matter what.

But Shipman wouldn’t forget so easily — and Lottie knew that. What she didn’t expect was that her friend would be so direct about it.

They were in Lottie’s room, exchanging bits of gossip, doing each other’s makeup while Shauna complained about how terrible she was at it. Everything seemed normal — until Jackie left them alone. The door had barely clicked shut when Shauna brought it up.

Direct. Sharp enough. That was Shauna — the kind of person you couldn’t escape from, even if you tried.

“Okay…What’s going on?”

Her voice came with a hint of boredom, like someone who already knew the answer, who was already bracing for the excuses. Shauna spoke like she had memorized every step Lottie might try to take in that conversation. And in truth, she had.

Lottie hesitated. She tested the waters, like someone checking the temperature before diving in. She shook her head. Crossed her arms like she was shielding herself from the world.

“Me and Natalie kissed… I mean… I kissed her.”

She said it like a teenager trying to shrink something obvious into something small — trying not to say too much, trying to avoid admitting what she really felt.

“Twice.”

She felt her breath catch — as if, by saying it out loud, she had summoned some sort of curse. The kind that only exists in fairy tales. Like when Ariel trades her voice for legs — a childish metaphor for something so raw. But Lottie wasn’t sure it was supposed to hurt this much — if characters in those stories felt like dying the moment they spoke the wrong words. Because she did.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Jackie returned from the bathroom before Shauna could say anything. And a greater fear hit Lottie — cold and sudden, running up her spine like a plunge into freezing water, completely at odds with the smothering summer heat.

But relief followed quickly, when Shauna simply glanced at her and redirected the conversation.

“We were talking about the book Lottie’s reading.”

She said it with little emotion, in her usual tone, like nothing had happened. And Jackie just picked up the thread from there, asking what Matthews had been reading lately.

“YOU KISSED MATTHEWS ON THE MOUTH?!”

Van practically screamed, cutting through the background music with her unmistakable voice. Her eyes wide, an amused grin spreading across her face as she held out her hand to Tai — who, with no dramatic flair, pulled ten dollars from her pocket and handed it over to her girlfriend, rolling her eyes like anyone who had just lost a bet.

“That tall preppy girl never fooled me.”

She teased again, prompting Natalie to toss a paper ball at her without even looking up from the spreadsheets. She was closing out the store’s books before the start of a new season — organizing everything to figure out which categories needed restocking.

“So are you two like… dating now?”

Tai asked, genuinely curious about what exactly it was that Natalie and Lottie shared. Something not even Nat could define precisely. It was suspended. Unnamed. Past the line of what should be called a friendship… but still before the line where anything had a clear label.

“It’s complicated…”

Natalie rolled her eyes slightly, as if she loathed that word. “Complicated.” It was the kind of thing dumb teenagers said to other dumb teenagers — and she hated feeling like one of them.

Van glanced at Tai with a knowing smirk, as if she already predicted what would come next.

Natalie dropped the pen on the counter, finally giving in to the conversation. For the first time, her attention fully shifted.

“Lottie didn’t know she liked girls until… well, you know.” She ran a hand over her face. “And now she’s in that fucked-up self-acceptance zone. The one we all know. Most people go through it, and it’s just… well, fucked.”

There was a certain carelessness in Nat’s body language — a natural indifference that didn’t quite match what she really felt.

Because deep down, it was a very different story.

Natalie might cut the drama from her words, might be direct, sharp, act like nothing ever touched her… But inside, it was different. Inside, there was waiting.

A ridiculous fact about Lottie Matthews was that she was a cruel lover of nostalgia.

Maybe it was the photographs’ fault — the way she liked to capture feelings so she could relive them later, from the safe distance of time. Because feeling things in the moment was always harder. In the moment, everything felt like too much.

Long, Long, Long was playing softly in the background, like a prayer or a whispered memory. Lottie had picked up the habit of listening to music beyond road trips or those special occasions when she craved a connection with the notes. Now, there were stacks of vinyls in the corner of her room — a small collection that started with just a few she already had and grew with each silent trip to Natalie’s shop.

Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac, sat at the top of the pile. Always within sight, right next to the poster Nat had given her — a gift Lottie sometimes pretended to forget how she got, but kept with an almost sacred kind of care.

Lottie was flipping through photos from the trip now, especially the ones taken with the team. The celebration, the smiles, the moment they won Nationals. She picked the best ones, as always, for her memory album. It was something ordinary, subtle — almost ritualistic for her.

But this time, as she looked at the pictures, she felt a strange emptiness. As if she hadn’t truly lived it. As if the euphoria of the victory had been muffled, redirected. Lottie wished she had felt more. Or maybe she just wished she had been able to let herself feel.

The girl’s train of thought was interrupted when her mother knocked on the bedroom door — just as polite as Lottie was, with that unmistakable smile on her lips.

Emilia didn’t carry the same tension her father did. In fact, her presence brought a false sense of relief. As if, for a few moments, Lottie could breathe.

Because, well… at least it wasn’t him. At least it wasn’t her father barging in like a cop chasing a suspect, demanding answers for crimes Lottie wasn’t even sure she’d committed.

“Can I come in?”

Ms. Matthews asked sweetly — a little shy, a little absent — just enough to feel both strange and familiar at the same time.

Lottie only nodded, and Emilia walked in, sitting at the edge of her daughter’s huge bed. Slowly, she moved closer, quietly observing what Lottie was doing with such care.

“I wanted to congratulate you on the team’s victory.”

It sounded like an attempt — a bridge, a step up. It was odd, but not for lack of love. It was odd because, even though there was love between them, it always felt like there were miles of distance.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Lottie smiled genuinely, watching her mother take off her shoes and rest her feet on the bed. When she rested her head on the older woman’s shoulder, Emilia picked up one of the team photos.

“You girls look accomplished.”

She said something obvious, but with the tone of someone trying to cross an invisible line — someone who wanted to stay, even though she was always just a little out of reach.

Lottie let out a quiet laugh through her nose.

“Because we were.”

The answer came with a captivating lightness, as if Lottie had forgotten, for a second, what was buried underneath.

Emilia studied the girls smiling widely, in a kind of euphoria that only exists when you achieve something that once felt unreachable.

“And not anymore?”

It was a playful question. Almost teasing, but warm — the kind of question that pretends to be light so it doesn’t scare the other person with too much affection.

Emilia picked up another photo, one from the pool party. She recognized some of the girls — Jackie, Shauna, Laura Lee.

But there was one who stood alone.

Natalie.

She was holding a soda can like it was a fancy cocktail. Relaxed posture, distracted gaze. Effortlessly cool.

“Oh… who’s this?”

Lottie’s heart stopped. It felt like reliving an old scene — a déjà vu with a bitter chill. The same question. The same tightness in her chest.

“Natalie.”

The answer came with difficulty. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to regain control.

She picked up other photos, trying to redirect her mother’s attention — pictures where Natalie appeared only in the background, in groups, indistinct, safe.

“She’s a friend.”

She said it firmly, as if stating something no one had questioned.

Emilia just smiled.

“She seems… nice.”

Her tone was neutral. No prying, no judgment. Just a sentence tossed into the air by someone who — maybe — was simply trying to get to know her daughter from a different angle.

“You don’t have to pretend, Mom.”

Lottie rolled her eyes in that teenage way you learn early on, as if bracing for disappointment.

“No… really. She has nice eyes.”

Mrs. Matthews said it with the same calm as if she were talking about the weather or an afternoon at the club with friends. But there was something there — or maybe it was just the absence of hypervigilant questioning.

Lottie felt something odd in her chest. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t exactly relief. It was something else, smaller, more subtle.

Maybe, once again, it was just the absence of intrusive doubt.

“Oh… yeah… she’s nice. Maybe the nicest person I know.”

Chapter Text

Time seemed to move both fast and slow at once. The days were busy at that store — in the summer, sales increased. Some new records arrived, others sold out, freshly released CDs gained space on the shelves. The market of the music grew like a good harvest season.

And Natalie took advantage of every second of it. Unlike other teenagers, she didn’t travel in the summer. She used the time to profit from the sales — and, well, also by selling weed at skate tournaments to desperate skaters willing to pay extra. On top of that, she made a few stickers, drawing aliens and other loony stuff they loved putting on their boards to look cool.

In the pages of her notebook — and maybe even in the store’s accounting ledger — there were very specific doodles. Or better: of someone specific, someone who haunted her thoughts even when Natalie wasn’t aware of it.

Lottie Matthews.

She showed up in the drawings involuntarily, during the dullest hours of the day. In that suspended time when Nat stood alone behind the counter, listening to music, waiting for a customer to come in… or, more commonly, a group of loud teenagers who rarely bought anything.

Sometimes the sketches were sloppy — done with fading pens or dull pencils. But still, there was a hidden talent in them, maybe even a forgotten one, that poured out of Natalie’s hand without her trying, without needing to make much effort at all. Things just flowed like a needle sliding across a record. A talent she usually chose to ignore. And yet, there they were: Lottie’s eyes, the shape of her jaw, the small nose, the messy bangs, and that smile that refused to leave her thoughts for even a second.

Sometimes, she wondered what kind of limbo she had been thrown into. It felt like she had been pushed into some unknown zone — and, for a moment, she felt like a forgotten child waiting to be picked up after almost everyone else had already gone home. The feeling was the same: an abandonment that wasn’t exactly real, but deeply contemplative.

And she hated feeling that way. Hated that her rational side was being slowly stripped away by a girl she hadn’t even cared much about not long ago. A girl who used to be just an acquaintance… and now was everything. Everything Natalie didn’t want to lose — and, at the same time, everything she didn’t yet have.

She wondered if it was better to have nothing than to almost have something. If being left behind for good was less painful than waiting for someone to come back. If mourning was easier than blind hope. She didn’t know. But still, she remained there. Passively. Waiting for Matthews.

Even if she kept on living. Even if she remained whole — with her cigarettes, her drinks, her records, her pride, her resentment, her pain. And, of course, her hope.

Lottie Matthews had almost forgotten what life was like before. Lonely. Made of shallow connections and a constant feeling of not belonging — like a second skin she could never quite shed. She almost forgot because, for a brief moment, she had found a place that was hers. A place where she felt whole, seen — but not exposed. Understood — but not invaded.

But that place couldn’t last.

And now, now she kept wondering if it wasn’t… if it wasn’t better to have stayed where she was. If it wasn’t better to have never felt anything at all. Because deep down, nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

The constant pain in her chest had lessened, but a growing sense of longing took its place. Maybe she missed Natalie — of course she did. But it was also something more. A longing for herself. For who she was when she was with her. For how it felt to be understood in silence, without always needing to guard herself. For how feeling too much stopped being a burden and became… simply alive. Simply unique. Simply allowed.

Yes, she missed Natalie. But even more, she missed the version of Lottie that existed when she was with Natalie.

The routine was the same. Always the same. Filled with the same tasks, the same dinners, the same guests — or even new guests, but with personalities just as predictable.

She traveled with her parents, which she actually enjoyed. She couldn’t lie: it was a distraction for a while, it made her feel full for a while. But soon she would return. And soon, the emptiness would return too, reclaiming its place in her chest like it had been patiently waiting.

She kept trying to fill it with her small pleasures. The pages of books she read, the photographs she took during their travels, the postcards Jackie insisted on sending from every stop along her long summer trip. Sometimes, Lottie went out with the sons of her mother’s country club friends — arranged outings, brief attempts at distraction. But soon, she’d feel like an intruder among them, comically out of place, even though, ironically, she was more like them than she cared to admit. Or maybe… maybe it was just the money. Maybe that’s what made them alike.

And yet, she didn’t feel part of anything.

She also felt a bit ridiculous. A rich girl complaining about life as if she had real problems. It sounded like a cliché — one of those painfully scripted ones. Like she had everything and still, something was missing. And she refused to let that kind of thought enter her mind, because it just sounded far too absurd.

“How do you feel… I mean… about Natalie now?”

Shauna asked, while they were sitting on her bed. Lottie had been spending more time with her lately — a kind of refuge. A kind of primal understanding that seemed to come from her. Maybe it had started the moment Shipman kept her secret, even from Jackie. That made Lottie more comfortable. But she knew the subject would return, that there was still space between them for it — and somehow, everything had become easier… and here they were.

“I really miss her…”

It was a confession that came out far too easily — even Lottie was surprised by it. The words slipped out effortlessly, the same ones that used to get stuck in her throat like an irreversible curse. But now, now it felt like she was slowly setting herself free. Not completely — there was still care in her choice of words, still a cautious walk behind every decision. But even so, they came. Almost fluid. And when Lottie allowed them, they just… came out.

“Don’t you think this whole thing is kind of… I mean, kind of cruel to yourself?”

Shauna asked — blunt as always. Not exactly understanding, but direct in that way only she could be. And at the same time, she was someone who kept a lot in — which made Lottie relate to her, even if just a little. Maybe that’s why she worked so well with Jackie. Because, well… they were almost opposites. Or because they were best friends. She wasn’t sure, but something between them just worked, without needing an explanation.

“You’re doing the same thing Jackie does…”

The pause came at just the right moment, before the follow-up, as if she wasn’t already sharp enough.

“I mean… not admitting it. Pretending things. Leaving Nat waiting.”

And that hit Lottie right in the spot she’d been trying to hide — the problem was, Shauna seemed to know exactly where it hurt.

She looked away, fixing her gaze on the window. Something inside her shut down. Just like that. In that automatic way of someone who learned too early how to protect herself. An instinctive defense, rising like a reflex — like a threatened animal shrinking back before even knowing if there was real danger.

“I didn’t ask her to wait…”

The sentence came out too quickly. And the regret followed just as fast. Because yes, she had asked. More than that — she had fed the hope.

She swallowed hard, tasting the words before she could spit out any regret.

“I don’t know why you care. You didn’t even like Nat before.”

This time, her voice was softer. Not as defensive as before — but still tight, like she was holding shut a door that kept trying to swing open. That’s what she did. When she couldn’t face her own feelings, she built a wall. High, rigid, lined with pure self-preservation.

That was Lottie’s flaw: she didn’t face things. She defended herself.

“I don’t care,” Shauna shot back. She really didn’t give a damn about Natalie, but that didn’t mean the same went for Lottie. “But you know… you seem kind of…”

She rolled her eyes, as if tired of her own attempt to put things into words. As if holding back her frustration was a chore. That’s how Shauna worked — she held things in like anger and concern had the same tone. Like any affection had to push through a layer of exhaustion before it could show.

“This is driving you crazy, Lottie.”

On Matthews’s face, calm was just a façade. The smooth surface of a troubled lake, maybe dangerous and deep. There was something in the crease between her brows, in the way her lips trembled just slightly — almost imperceptible, but still… telling.

“It’s just not easy…”

It came out low, almost a whisper. A thread of a voice. A confession more honest than any before. As if she realized, too late, that she’d spent so much energy trying to defend herself from an attack that never came.

Shauna let out a long sigh — the kind that says I get it, but without putting it into words.

“I know,” she murmured back, eyes fixed on the open notebook in front of her. “But… people can’t wait forever.”

The sentence landed heavy, but true. And then silence returned — a respectful pause between two girls trying not to go too deep into it. Or rather, between one girl pushing for answers and another running from them. They both went back to writing — a letter to Jackie, even though they weren’t sure it would reach her. Because, well, Jackie was in a different place every week. But maybe it wasn’t really about the letter. Maybe it was just about showing they cared about the postcards she sent, and the care Taylor took in remembering them.

Natalie and Kevin were getting ready for the show — the kind of reckless thing they did without thinking twice: leaving one town for another with no real plan, no guarantees. They just went. And somehow, they always found a way back. They were excited, and rightfully so. They had worked for months to make this happen. And of course they were going to hear the tracks from the new album live. It was the band’s best one yet — and it wasn’t just the excitement talking. They had spent hours debating it on the road.

“I think I like Let Down and Karma Police more than No Surprises,”

she said, her bare feet propped up on the dashboard of Kevin’s dad’s old pickup truck. It had taken some serious convincing to borrow the car, but there they were — two teenagers in the middle of nowhere, chasing something that felt urgent — the kind of urgency only things that truly matter in adolescence seem to have.

“You’re just trying to sound cool and pretend you don’t like the most famous one,” Kevin replied, sarcastic.

Natalie rolled her eyes with a half-smile. She rolled the window down, let the wind flood the car, and lit a cigarette. She offered one to Kevin, lighting his with her own lighter as he inhaled.

And it was in moments like these — only in moments like these — that she forgot her life didn’t revolve around Lottie Matthews. And she liked that. She liked going out. She liked having fun. And she liked the rare lightness she felt when that girl left her mind for a few hours.

Not because she hated her. Not because there was anything bad. Quite the opposite. It was all because she felt too much. Because her mind kept conjuring the image of her coming back, her smile, her restrained laugh, that overly polite, overly proper, one-of-a-kind way of being. And that — that was a silent kind of torture for Natalie. A specific kind of suffering: missing someone who isn’t there but who insists on living inside you.

She hated what it made her feel — like some dumb teenager, delusional, lost in a world of fantasies that weren’t real, that never came true. Longings that went unfulfilled, unreached. And Natalie didn’t want to live like that. She didn’t know how to live like that.

Because Natalie Scatorccio’s life happened in the concrete. In the now. In what’s tangible. Everything she had to endure was out there. And everything she needed to feel was purely real.

And at least, for now, Matthews wasn’t a reachable reality. In fact, she felt more distant than anything Natalie could grasp — and even though she lingered in her thoughts, it was as if she were a mountain away.

Mid-summer. Things were getting hotter by the day. People lived in their pools, went to the beach, traveled to cooler places. Lottie and her family did the same. They spent a few vacation days in Iceland while her father tended to business.

It was always the same thing: investor meetings, dinners, visits to new places. Lottie actually liked traveling. She liked visiting local museums, buying little objects that carried the memory of the experience. They went to a thermal spa; she also sent a few postcards from the tourist spots to some friends — mainly Laura Lee, who was probably off at some retreat or Catholic club whose name Lottie could never quite remember.

She brought back a bit of sand from Reynisfjara Beach, along with photographs of the place. Which was funny, because the first thing she thought was that Natalie would probably love it — the sea, the black stones, the overcast sky. But the thought dissolved right after. Or rather: Lottie buried it, the best way she could.

She would deal with it later. Always later.

And maybe that was the problem: somehow, later always came. Lottie always returned home, always came back to her walls and her thoughts — to the struggle for self-acceptance that she postponed like someone postponing a disaster. And with that, the end of August drew closer. And with it, a new discomfort: her birthday.

Jackie and Shauna were already back. Laura Lee, too. And, as always, they seemed more excited about a party than Lottie herself. Because, well… her birthdays were always the same. And she felt a bit ridiculous for still feeling the same way about them.

It was like being trapped in something she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried. Like quicksand — the more she struggled, the deeper she sank.

She spun around her own thoughts — because that was how Lottie lived: with what ifs spiraling in her head, seeping all the way into her soul like tiny cockroaches hidden at the bottom of an old chest, consuming her with everything that wasn’t real.

And the end of summer brought yet another problem: the return to school. Not just school itself, but everything it meant. 

Seeing her again. 

Orbiting around her — in person. Feeling everything she had felt in her absence… but now, with more intensity. Unfiltered. With no control over her impulses. With no predictability to her actions.

First day of school.

Not just the first day of school, but also the team meeting — and the supposed celebration for the national championship win.

And, on top of everything, Lottie Matthews’ birthday.

Something that, even if she wanted to, Natalie couldn’t forget — or escape. Either way, she couldn’t miss any team commitments. Coach Martínez would probably serve her head on a silver platter.

So there she was again, in that stupid gym full of students — just like she’d been so many other times.

The team mascot was running between them, pretending to fly. The teenagers screamed, cheered the victory. The principal gave some bullshit speech no one was really listening to. It was always like that.

The girls gathered in the locker room. They crowded around Lottie — the birthday girl, the star of the team, the girl of the moment.

And Natalie just watched. From afar.

She knew Lottie’s eyes were looking for her from time to time. She could feel the weight of that gaze — the kind that isn’t just a glance, but surveillance. It was like being watched by someone carrying both guilt and desire.

Their eyes met sometimes. Just for a second. But they said much more than either of them was ready to admit. And there was something there. An energy pulling them in — slow, steady, silent — like a current beneath the surface. The question was no longer if they would give in. It was when. Or worse: who would go first. 

And the answer was: Neither.

“Hey… Laura Lee. Could you give this to Lottie?”

Nat called the girl passing by, holding out a hastily wrapped package she pulled from inside her bag. It was simple, thrown together quickly, but still, with care. Laura Lee didn’t question it. She just nodded. And Natalie responded with the same gesture — a quiet, brief thank you, no words needed.

Then she gripped her backpack strap tight. Gave Matthews one last look.

And walked away.

Because, well… she wouldn’t be the only one to give in. And Lottie… Lottie never said what she meant. Never crossed the distance between them. Never took the step Natalie had been waiting for — the step that would make everything hurt a little less.

And that was it.

They would live like that, in the almost. Until Lottie decided. Or Natalie gave up.

And honestly… she was starting to think it’d be the second one.

It had been a long day — but not necessarily in a bad way. Just that feeling of too much attention. Of everything and everyone turning to you, as if, for a moment, the whole world wanted to remind you that there are people who love you. Who care. Who know you — or should.

Lottie got gifts, compliments. Sometimes even confessions from boys that made her want to throw up. She, Jackie, Shauna, and Laura Lee went out to see a movie, walked through the park, had ice cream, talked about everyday things.

But something was stuck in Lottie’s mind. One specific moment.

The moment she saw Natalie — just for a second. And she swore she could’ve died right then and there. Her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest. Her legs almost gave out. Almost dragged her straight to her.

Because seeing Natalie… was seeing the image her mind worshipped in silence. Was rediscovering the body her desire called for. Was feeling, again, everything that still burned inside.

But she held back. She always held back. Because going after Natalie meant being ready. And, once again, Lottie wasn’t.

She pushed the thought down — like she always did.

The rest of the day was filled with distractions and noisy conversations, but still, it was impossible to ignore the gift tucked inside her bag. It was there. A quiet presence, impossible to forget, like Natalie in that small moment when they saw each other.

She still hadn’t found the courage to open it. She barely believed it when Laura Lee showed up with it, saying Nat had asked her to deliver it.

Her thoughts kept circling back to the gesture. Natalie wasn’t the kind of person who ran away. That just wasn’t her.

But then… why was she doing it now?

At the same time, Lottie hated herself for thinking like that — because she was the one creating the distance. She was the one keeping herself safe, keeping things far.

She was the one watching, the one hesitating, the one pushing Natalie into this limbo of almost. She was the one putting Natalie to the test. And, most likely… the one who would lose her.

Later, alone in her room, after a socially exhausting day, she couldn’t resist anymore. The wrapping — slightly crooked, done in a rush, maybe with the nearest paper Nat could find — seemed to stare at her. It had a quiet urgency, like a child begging for attention. Something that needed to be opened.

And Lottie gave in.

She grabbed a pair of scissors. Carefully cut the ribbon.

Inside the package, there was a notebook. A black sketchbook, the edges worn, and clearly… full.

Bulging. Full as if it couldn’t hold anything else. Pages that looked stiff from everything left behind in them. Lottie held the notebook with both hands, her chest tightening before she even opened it.

And then she opened it.

A breath escaped her lips — from surprise, from something that squeezed her chest all at once.

It was a flower meaning journal. Handmade. Little samples carefully glued inside. Drawings. Notes.

Lottie recognized the handwriting — or rather, she recognized the effort.

Because, well… Natalie’s handwriting usually looked like a seven-year-old trying to write after drinking way too much soda. Somewhere between chaotic and adorable. But here… there was effort. There was patience. There was care.

And that — that made everything hurt a little more.

The pages held a quiet kind of care. A discreet beauty, like someone trying to make something lovely even if their hands were shaking. Lottie turned page after page, a smile slowly growing at the corner of her lips.

And then she stopped.

Right in the middle of the notebook, there was a daisy. Dried, carefully pressed. Beside it, a drawing. A simple sketch, but recognizable. It was her. Natalie had drawn Lottie.

She didn’t know when it had been made. Maybe during their time together, maybe during some moment apart. But it didn’t matter — it was there. And it felt like a hidden confession. Like Natalie still remembered her. Still wanted her. Still waited.

Lottie flipped back to the first page, like someone wanting to start from the beginning, just to feel it all again. Like rereading her new favorite book — one she’d never get tired of quoting. And then she found it, scribbled in the corner of the inside cover:

To my Daisy Lady.

Oh, fuck… this is so dramatic and cheesy I’m physically in pain.

Lottie laughed.

Laughed alone, in her room, with the notebook on her lap, like someone receiving a love letter written with crooked words — but ones that hit exactly where they should.

This was so Nat, so purely her, that Lottie felt the ache in her chest soften — like that girl was everywhere. Like she was right there, even if she wasn’t.

It happened right after Lucy knocked on the door. Lottie quickly hid the gift in the first drawer she could find and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her clothes with her hands.

“Your friends are downstairs.”

She only nodded. Friends… They weren’t exactly her friends. They were the children of her parents’ friends — kids who only remembered Lottie when they saw her at the club, or when her birthday forced them to pretend there was some kind of closeness.

She sighed and went down.

They were going to celebrate at one of their houses, without adult supervision — the typical rich, bored teenagers, talking loudly about small things. Shallow, meaningless things. But Lottie listened anyway. Stayed anyway — feeling out of place, like just a decorative piece at her own party.

The night went on. Loud music. Even louder conversations. She joined here and there — she wasn’t the type to hate everything. She just… didn’t fit. She craved another kind of connection, with another kind of people. Or better: the company of someone specific.

More guests arrived. She greeted them. Some boys kissed her cheeks — she made subtle grimaces in return. Everything was too much. Too much noise. Too much touching.

One of the girls brought out the cake. They sang happy birthday. Lottie made a wish she didn’t dare repeat, not even to herself. She blew out the candles. Smiled. Took pictures. Chatted. Forgot.

But there was one thing she couldn’t forget. Something that pulsed inside her, begging to be heard: the gift. The gesture. Natalie.

How was it possible that someone’s absence meant more to her than everyone else’s presence?

Lottie was tired.

At midnight, the rain began to fall — marking the turn of the season. Soon, the leaves would fall too. Some drunk teenagers ran out into the water, laughing like fever and consequence didn’t exist. And for the first time that night, Lottie felt she didn’t need to stay.

Something inside her — maybe what had always been there — screamed.

And before she could overthink it, she followed it.

She left. She got soaked. She left the party behind. She walked like someone who finally chooses not to hide anymore. Like someone who understands where they need to go — and is in a hurry. She let the rain wash her, let her courage lead the way.

And she walked toward her.

Toward the shop. 

The warm yellow light was still on. Lottie knew what that meant. She knew Natalie was still there. She knocked on the door, dripping wet. And waited.

“What the fuck…”

Natalie muttered, annoyed as she opened the door.

But she froze the moment she saw her.

She blinked a few times, as if her brain was struggling to catch up with her eyes, like someone seeing a mirage in the desert. There was shock, confusion, maybe anger — and then, just silence.

And then, without saying a word, Lottie kissed her.

Because there was nothing to say. Because Natalie knew. She knew what it meant to see Lottie there. Whole. Human. Ridiculously soaked —just like the first time.

And now, finally hers.

Chapter Text

The kiss turned urgent. Messy, but not clumsy — just too needy to resemble the calmness of the first. Lottie felt Natalie’s warm hands gripping her cold waist, while the other cradled the back of her neck, pulling her in with hunger, with thirst, with desperation.

Their lips melted together, sucking at each other with urgency. Natalie’s tongue invaded her mouth with a dizzying sense of exploration. They danced, clashed, fought for space. Lottie didn’t care about being wet — she would’ve been trembling anyway. Natalie was there, and she was warm enough to know that the soaked clothes clinging to their bodies, the dripping hair — it was all just background noise.

They wrestled for space. Anxious breaths battled between them. Lottie wrapped her arms around the blonde’s neck, trying to dissolve into that kiss. Natalie did the same — a struggle for control, for desire, for something burning between them.

Lottie was pushed against the counter. She didn’t mind. Her fingers traced down Natalie’s jawline, outlining its delicate shape with her fingertip, as if even urgency could be drenched in tenderness.

She felt free. It didn’t hurt anymore. She wasn’t thinking anymore. She was burning. And she wanted that. She wanted to burn. The fear melted into want. She would never lose Nat again. She wouldn’t hold back, wouldn’t restrain herself. She’d allow it. She’d let the raw desire she had tried so hard to contain finally take over.

Because now, enough.

Now she would let herself feel it.

Let things just be — even if fear still sometimes clutched her chest.

Their lips parted for a few seconds — nose to nose, breathless, but no less desperate. Lottie felt like she needed Natalie’s lips again. And seconds later, they were back. She bit down softly on Natalie’s bottom lip and heard that low, raspy laugh escape mid-kiss.

They dove back in. Back into the game of pure whim, where neither wanted to let go.

It was fast. Heated. Urgent. Hips grinding, bodies pressing — everything was intoxicating. She was drunk. She felt drunk. And she wanted more. Like an addict who never reaches the final glass. Her body burned with something almost feverish. The moment warming her from the cold rain. Skin in flames. Surrendered to the last drop.

Natalie tugged Lottie’s sweater over her head. And she didn’t hesitate to lift her arms — no shame, no shields.

Now, just a thin shirt clung to her skin. They pushed into each other even more. Fighting for space. Stumbling through kisses and laughter, they half-fell, half-walked toward Natalie’s bedroom. Shoes left somewhere by the door. Lottie’s shirt — maybe on the shop floor, maybe outside the room. She didn’t know. Didn’t care.

All she knew was that she was there, wearing only her bra, still wet, her hair sticking to her collarbones — where Natalie’s fingers now tangled, brushing aside strands as she pressed open-mouthed kisses, bites, and sucks along the bare skin.

No thoughts. Just instinct.

Lottie shoved Natalie’s jacket off her shoulders. They fumbled. They laughed. They kissed. They bit. Breath caught between them. The shirt fell. Pale skin. Freckles scattered like a map.

Moments in broken flashes. Adrenaline surging like an electric current, sparking through every limb. Kisses, urgent and breathless. Natalie’s bedsheets clung to Lottie’s damp skin, but she couldn’t care less.

Not when that girl was there. On top of her. Kissing her with so much devotion that she could swear — at any second — she’d be declared a saint.

It was in urgency that they found each other — and yet, there was still room for concern. A sense of care sparked in Natalie’s mind the exact moment she realized she could still rein in her desire.

She pulled back slightly from Lottie’s lips, their noses still brushing, breathing together, unevenly.

Natalie took a moment. She ran her fingers gently through Matthews’ damp, stubborn strands of hair that insisted on clinging to her face — far too pretty for that.

“Are you okay?”

She whispered, lips still grazing the other’s.

It was a question that went beyond the surface. She wasn’t asking the obvious — she was asking everything. She knew this was new for Lottie. And she didn’t know how much of it might scare her.

Green eyes met a brown vastness. A dark, deep, mysterious sea Natalie didn’t want to escape. She was hypnotized.

Lottie nodded, not saying much — but Nat wanted words. She wanted certainty.

“Aren’t we moving too fast?”

Another question, another layer of care, another attempt to hold back her own desire. Now it was Natalie who feared she was wanting too much.

“Then go really slow…”

The girl beneath her whispered. Let out a quiet, crooked giggle before pulling her back into a kiss.

And then Natalie understood.

Even if it wasn’t quite the answer she’d expected, she understood. There was no more room for holding back between them.

Lottie’s scent filled her nostrils like an epiphany — something no drug, no matter how strong, could ever induce. It was pure instinct, pure adrenaline coursing through every vein. The kisses burned, frantic, bubbling like water at a boil. They felt desperate, as if that girl might vanish at any moment. And somehow, Natalie wanted to disappear with her, if that’s what it came to.

Her fingertips slid down Lottie’s side — from her bare stomach to the waistband of her shorts, then back up again. She toyed with the edge of her bra, until her fingers reached the clasp at the back and unhooked it, leaving her bare on top.

There was no time for pauses — nor any desire for them. Their lips rejoined with urgency, crashing together, searching for each other with a need that felt almost ancient. As if they’d waited a lifetime for this. As if they were strangers reuniting with an old fate.

Natalie explored the warm body beneath her. The damp skin — she couldn’t tell if it was still from the rain or from the heat between them. Her hand cupped one of Lottie’s breasts, and she heard the girl moan into her mouth, a muffled, involuntary sound that sent a shiver down her spine. Lottie arched slightly beneath her, their hips grinding together in a continuous, urgent rhythm.

Natalie moved her kisses down to her neck, feeling Lottie cling to her, grip her, as if unwilling to let even an inch of space exist between their skin. She kissed along her collarbone, leaving small purple galaxies in her wake — tracing her own map across Matthews’ perfect body. She took a breast into her mouth with precision, with devotion. And Lottie arched again, letting out a needy moan — restrained, yet completely given.

Lottie’s fingers tangled in Natalie’s blonde hair, tugging gently, encouraging every new motion. Natalie teased her, playing with the space between them, with the limits, like she wanted to discover everything. And then she moved lower, tracing a path with her mouth down to her flat stomach, stopping at the waistband of her shorts.

She unbuttoned them in one smooth motion — then looked up at Lottie.

The girl was propped up on her elbows, watching her. And Natalie forgot how to breathe.

Fuck. That goddamn girl was a goddess.

Aphrodite herself among mortals. Wild, open, with damp waves of hair falling out of place, bangs sticking to her forehead, cheeks flushed — and those eyes. God, those eyes. Too intense. Hypnotic. The kind of eyes that could make anyone beg.

Natalie was gone.

More than in love.

More than devoted.

More than ever — wanting Lottie Matthews.

Maybe that was Lottie’s most conscious moment — and at the same time, the most free she’d ever been from the hyper-awareness that usually warned her about every little move. There, in Natalie’s arms, she was safe. Safe from her own thoughts, safe from her own restraint. She was free from the walls she had spent so long building — and now all she wanted was to run as far away from them as she could.

She looked into Natalie’s eyes. Green, hungry, analyzing her with heat. Nat was burning just as much as she was. Both of them in combustion, on the verge of exploding and consuming each other in that very moment.

Lottie sat up on the bed and kissed her again. She wanted this — and she wanted Natalie to know that she wanted it more than anything.

“Nat?…”

She whispered against her lips, dragging open-mouthed kisses along the line of her jaw. She felt Natalie tilt her neck, giving her space, replying with a soft, husky “Hmm?” caught in her throat.

Lottie kept going, letting her lips wander across pale skin, kissing freckles, dimples, guiding herself to the corner of Natalie’s ear, where she placed a soft kiss.

“It’s okay. I want you. I trust you.”

Then the blonde girl kissed her back. This time, slower — but no less hungry. More measured — but no less burning, no less intense, no less full of desire. Just filled with more tenderness, more care, more devotion.

Lottie surrendered to it. It was Nat’s way of taking care of her, and deep down, she liked how warm that felt. She liked the concern, the gentleness, the way that girl could be soft.

Lottie’s fingers worked to undo the black belt with silver details — very punk, very Natalie, but completely unnecessary in that moment. They fumbled a little, but eventually got it off, unbuttoning the faded black jeans between muffled laughter and eager touches.

Natalie gently pushed Lottie back onto the bed, carefully climbing over her, searching for the most comfortable position as she settled in. They rid themselves of the pants quickly, in between kisses, their tongues locked in the same intense battle as the hands roaming the curves of Matthews’ body.

Lottie unclasped Natalie’s bra. Their chests pressed together, sending a jolt through the most sensitive veins. The blonde felt the girl kiss her shoulder, trail up to her neck, and rest her nose there for a second before slowly descending again. Kisses on her neck, collarbone, between her breasts, down her stomach — until she reached the waistband of Lottie’s shorts, slowly pulling them down.

Natalie kissed her over the thin fabric of her underwear. Lottie was perfect. More perfect than any thought Natalie had ever dared to have. She removed the last piece gently, somewhat hesitantly, as if still allowing Matthews the space to back out. But there was no room for hesitation in that moment. She saw it in the girl’s brown eyes — and found it utterly endearing, those flushed cheeks burning red against the high curve of her cheekbones.

“Are you okay?”

Lottie nodded — part embarrassed, part wild, part everything. 

And Nat… Nat just dove into her own desire, with no doubt that she was the one Matthews wanted.

Lottie felt like she was in a forest fire, a volcano on the verge of eruption. She was a mess — of moans, of tangled hair, of sweat. And Natalie was the reason for all of it.

The blonde girl was between her legs. Lottie was no longer in control of her rational mind — now, it was her body making all the decisions. Breathless. Natalie’s tongue on the center of her pleasure, stroking her in the most intimate way, sending her completely out of her mind.

Her hand tangled in Natalie’s blonde hair, pulling — maybe harder than she should, maybe without realizing it. The shock that rushed through her veins and hollows was like an electric current of pure bliss. She could feel every part of her body awakened — and all of it, completely drenched in sheer craving. A craving that came from Natalie. That belonged to Natalie.

Lottie felt intoxicated. Eyes closed, letting her body pulse, speak, tremble. She clutched the sheets, muttered the dirtiest words, all tangled with the sweetest name her mouth could utter:

Natalie…

Her legs tensed. Natalie’s tongue worked her skillfully, made her more sensitive with every touch. Her breathing was heavy, staggered. A knot formed deep in her belly — tightening, burning, growing until the edge of explosion. She moved her hips, searching for more, and one of Natalie’s hands found hers — fingers interlacing. She squeezed. She was begging, completely gone, wanting more of that girl, more than she could even begin to measure.

She let out a moan of frustration — maybe even a bit of irritation — when Natalie stopped. It was almost torture, the way she pulled back now, just when Lottie felt so close to reaching heaven for the very first time.

Brown eyes met wild, hungry green. Blonde hair tangled by her own fingers, lips glistening with what Lottie knew was her own taste. And that damn smirk — teasing, sharp — that never really went away.

The kisses traveled back up her body, all the way to her lips, like they’d missed them, like they’d been apart for far longer than they really had. Lottie tasted herself on Natalie’s tongue, on her lips — and it only drove her crazier, more desperate.

She felt Natalie’s fingers on her face, gently brushing away the strands of hair sticking to her sweaty skin. Lottie smiled through the kisses, panting. It was slow — like Natalie was doing it on purpose, like she wanted to watch her beg to be touched.

And well… she was. She was begging for it.

Begging for Natalie Scatorccio.

Although Lottie Matthews was begging for her — and although Natalie adored how that sounded — she knew that girl would never beg twice. And she didn’t need to. She didn’t have to because, in the end, it was Natalie who was on her knees. Completely surrendered.

She sucked on the girl’s lips with her own, sliding her hand down as if sculpting her body, tracing her curves until settling between her legs. First, she teased. Let a finger slip slowly through her soaked, swollen folds — enough to know that Lottie wanted her more than anything.

A few moans were muffled in the slow kiss. A plea. A request. A command.

Natalie broke the kiss, brushed her nose against Lottie’s, kissed her lips, her chin, her closed eyes, the flushed cheek, the edge of her ear, the pulse point on her neck — and then, she slid a finger in. Gently, cautiously. Testing the ground.

She paused for a second when she felt Lottie hold her breath — just in case, just until she was sure. Then she kept going. Moving. Exploring. Listening to the signs, the sounds, the way Lottie’s body responded. It was hard to hold back with a Matthews completely undone in her bed, begging to be touched.

She kissed her breasts, savoring the pleasure of seeing her like that — feeling, moaning, trembling from so little. Lottie’s restless fingers roamed her back, and her short nails scratched lightly over pale skin, leaving red trails — visible only because of the stark contrast against Scatorccio’s whiteness. But she didn’t complain. God, she didn’t complain.

The pleasure was there. Right there. In the hurricane that was Matthews falling apart beneath her touch.

And Natalie felt everything. As if the pleasure she gave was coming back to her twice as strong, in a connection so deep, so intense, that touching her felt just as good as being touched. As if it went beyond physical. As if it was fate.

As if all those ridiculous things people say — about soulmates and destiny — suddenly made a little bit of sense to her.

But that — that was just the Matthews effect. It was just something that girl could do to her.

Only Lottie.

Lottie was feeling more now. Stronger. More intense. Her hands clutched at Nat’s back with urgency, holding on like she needed something to ground her, to stop her from losing control. Their sweaty bodies moved in sync, the kisses were clumsy, rushed — as if everything was on the edge of collapse. She could feel Natalie’s breath against her neck as the girl placed soft, tender kisses along her shoulders — a contrast that almost felt cruel against the urgency of the finger now pulsing inside her.

Lottie gasped. Asked for more. Needed more.

She gripped the sheets, feeling Natalie slide in a second finger. This time, it felt easier. Her body already knew her, accepted her. There was no strangeness anymore, just surrender. It was still new, yes, but now it was pleasure — not doubt. It was someone inside her, touching her edges, loving her corners, moving like they were one. Completing her with a desire that pulsed in harmony, radiating like cosmic energy between two bodies that had finally found each other.

Now there was only shared pleasure. Tangled moans. Messy kisses. Quick breaths. Skin against skin. Sweat against sweat.

Lottie was getting lost. She felt more than any word could hold. It was magic. Different. A blend of sensations wrapping her whole — Natalie’s mouth on her breast, her fingers tangled in platinum hair, the way she moved, how she went faster, how she curled inside her, how she hit her spots with an almost supernatural precision. Like she already knew. Like she had known her body before. Like everything fit, even in the chaos, even in the rush.

Even when they stumbled between a moan, a breath, a bite, a kiss.

Lottie felt like she was going to explode. Felt her belly contract in a knot that pulled, stretched, burned. And then Natalie pressed her thumb against her most sensitive spot — against the swollen center of her pleasure — and that was it. In a second.

She came.

Came like a jolt. A flash. A sudden blackout.

She spilled into the golden warmth of pleasure and release, trembling, writhing, unraveling — while Natalie held her. While she still had her.

They breathed together for a while. Natalie was still holding her as Lottie recovered, feeling a little limp, a little sore — and, for some reason, overwhelmingly happy. Not that she had been unhappy before… It’s just that now something seemed to radiate through her numb body, something so absurd it made her laugh, suddenly.

Natalie laughed too, scattering chaste kisses all over Lottie’s face, and she could only receive them in silence, bathed in that warmth that asked for nothing but to be felt.

With gentle fingers, Natalie brushed the damp bangs from Lottie’s eyes and stroked her lips with her thumb before sealing them with a brief, tender, almost reverent kiss.

Lottie didn’t want to let her go just yet. Didn’t want to give up the weight of Natalie’s body over hers, the living, heated presence wrapped around her. With her fingers, she gently caressed the girl’s back, tracing invisible paths. Every now and then, she left soft kisses on the freckles of her shoulders, on the pale, damp skin that burned with heat.

They stayed like that for a long while, in silence. Exchanging touches, soft kisses, calming their breathing — as if trying to teach each other that there was no rush. That this could last.

After a while, Natalie lay beside Lottie, covered up to her waist by the sheets. Still naked, neither of them cared to get dressed — and honestly, they didn’t even know where their clothes were scattered around the room.

The platinum-haired girl still had her head resting on Matthews’ chest, listening to her heartbeat gradually slow down, feeling the calm rise and fall of her chest beneath her cheek. Lottie’s fingers lazily roamed through her scalp, like someone in no hurry to let go.

“Should I bake you a cake with ‘Not a Virgin’ written on it?”

She teased, her voice hoarse and a smirk tugging at her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing — and she loved when Lottie made that little face before pushing her lightly on the shoulder, laughing for real.

“I say I’m in love with you and that’s how you react?”

Lottie shot back, pretending to be offended. Natalie smiled instantly — a genuine smile, though quickly taken over by her usual mischief and the kind of sarcasm that was all hers. She looked at the brown-eyed girl, now facing her, eye to eye.

“Oh… you’re in love with me?”

She climbed on top of Lottie until their faces were aligned, mouth way too close, eyes locked. Lottie gave a small smile and clicked her tongue.

“I am… I’m hopelessly, totally, madly in love with you.”

She joked with a theatrical tone, like someone playing a part — but the truth was there, unmistakably present. Natalie knew it. Now she knew it for sure.

They kissed again. And like two teenagers discovering a hunger for each other, they gave in once more. Explored once more. Poured themselves onto each other’s bodies again. With more hunger. More passion. More devotion. More surrender.

The next day arrived quickly — cold outside, rainy, but stupidly warm in essence.

Lottie and Nat were wrapped around each other, sharing sheets, space, and, curiously, even the same pillow, as if that were somehow possible.

They woke up almost at the same time. Natalie knew that. But she also knew Lottie liked to pretend she was still asleep just to stay in bed a little longer. And that was adorable.

She scattered kisses along the girl’s bare shoulder, their bodies still warm under the covers, free from anything that wasn’t that touch — together, entangled.

“I know you’re pretending.”

She said in a playful tone before planting a tender kiss between Lottie’s cheek and ear. Lottie groaned sleepily, turning toward her, eyes still closed but with a ridiculously sweet smile on her lips. Nat kissed it almost automatically, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Come on, Lawttie…”

Another kiss. And another. Too affectionate, too playful, making Lottie’s smile widen with every one, until she started giggling at the sheer excess of affection.

“Just five more minutes…”

Lottie mumbled, brushing Natalie’s nose with the tip of her own. And damn… like this, Scatorccio couldn’t deny her anything.

So she just gave in. Kissed her once more before getting up and throwing on the first T-shirt and pair of shorts she found in the closet.

She focused on making breakfast — hot chocolate, some cookies, toast with jam, and pancakes drizzled with honey syrup. Maybe it was too much, but she was sure Matthews would be starving after the night before… and, besides, she wanted to spoil her.

Then she headed to the bathroom, took a long shower and, while drying off, examined the marks left on her skin — some on her back and, well, one in particular: Lottie’s two sharp canines, clearly imprinted on the side of her neck.

The discovery of a possible vampire.

If she were one, Lottie probably would’ve drained her to death.

And Natalie laughed at the thought, as if it were far too adorable to be taken seriously.

“Okay, Sleeping Beauty, time to get up.”

Natalie walked over to the bed with the breakfast tray balanced between her hands. She set it carefully beside the body still wrapped in sheets, lost in what looked like light sleep. Lottie was curled around the pillows, her hair messy over her face, her breathing slow. An almost unreal image. One of those old paradise paintings, covered in oil and varnish, with strokes so soft you’d doubt they were made by human hands.

Lottie looked like she had stepped out of a Renaissance painting — Calliope herself among the living. Naked in Natalie’s bed. Calm. Serene. Untouchable. Too perfect for anyone. Even too perfect for Nat herself, and yet she was there.

Matthews felt her body a little sore — not to the point of discomfort, but enough to give herself away. A physical reminder of what they’d spent practically the whole night doing. Still, there was a strange and delicious joy pulsing in her chest, a different kind of wellness flowing through her veins, like a calm warmth soaking into every cell.

She opened her eyes slowly, still half-asleep, and sat up, pulling the sheets up to her chest. She heard Natalie chuckle softly at the gesture — a laugh escaping the corner of her mouth, like she was seeing Lottie for the first time and somehow knew every part of her.

“Good morning…”

She smiled, a little sheepishly, but with deep sincerity. She felt something huge inside, a warm overflow in her chest, as if her heart were too full to contain it. Her cheeks were burning — not from the morning heat, but because a sudden and inescapable realization hit her hard: she loved being there.

“Morning.”

Nat replied with a tongue click, the satisfied smile still on her lips. A smile that left Lottie slightly flustered, slightly unmoored.

The brunette leaned in, touching Natalie’s face with an almost solemn gentleness. She traced her cheeks with her thumb before placing a quick, soft kiss on her lips.

“Thanks for breakfast, Chef Scatorccio.”

She said before grabbing one of the toast slices with jam and sipping some of the hot chocolate. Natalie laughed at how hungry the girl seemed, as she picked up a cookie herself, watching her with narrowed eyes — like a restaurant manager keeping an eye out for complaints before they even happen.

“You’re going to have to pay for breakfast and hospitality, Miss Matthews.”

Nat said with a mock-serious tone, leaning in closer, which made Lottie laugh at how she looked in that moment — lighter, less guarded, less sharp-edged. Just Natalie. The one who only existed with her, the one Lottie was still discovering bit by bit, as if each part came with its own hidden key.

“So… how much did it all cost?”

Lottie asked, trying to keep up the theatrical tone, though laughter was threatening to escape. She leaned closer to Natalie’s face, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“It cost like… a hundred kisses. Pay up or I’ll make you do the dishes.”

Natalie replied in her usual tone — half rude, half teasing, in that perfect balance only she could pull off. Lottie couldn’t help but smile into her lips, planting one kiss after another, through muffled laughter and little escapes, making Nat giggle like a mischievous kid, pretending it was too much — but clearly loving every second of it.

“Ughhhh don’t be so clingyyyy.”

They stayed like that for a good while — free of worries, free from the outside world. They kissed a little more, lazy and affectionate, like two people finally where they’re meant to be. Nat lent her one of her shirts — the biggest she had, because well, Lottie was taller, and most of her shirts ended up being too short. Still, Matthews wore it like it was the most comfortable thing in the world. Because it was. Because it was soaked with Scatorccio’s scent in every fiber.

Later, they opened the store. The rainy weather didn’t bring many customers, which was perfect: they kissed in secret behind the counter, giggling like teenagers in a movie. In one particularly funny moment, a regular showed up out of nowhere — one of Nat’s usuals — and she had to serve him with clearly swollen lips, while Lottie nearly burst from trying not to laugh and not look completely guilty.

That was it. She was free. Finally free.

And now, nothing in the world would make Lottie Matthews stay away from Natalie Scatorccio ever again.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, after a few hours, Lottie had to go back home.

First, because she had basically vanished from her own party — disappeared into the night without giving any explanation.

Second, because she needed to take her medication.

And third, maybe the trickiest one: she had to come up with a convincing lie to tell her parents about how amazing her birthday celebration had been.

Saying goodbye to Nat was… hard.

First, because neither of them wanted to leave.

They kept getting stuck in quick kisses that turned into new goodbyes, that soon became more kisses, and then, yet another attempt to pull away… and then, again.

It was almost comical. Almost tragic.

Lottie was happy. Truly happy.

But she knew — she knew very well — that the moment she was alone, she’d have to process all of it.

Not because she was backing away. Not this time. But because fear… still existed. In a different way now — more subtle, less paralyzing, but still there, like a phantom pain.

She knew she and Nat had a lot to talk about.

Maybe they were putting it off.

Or maybe they were just forgetting to use words — between kisses, between soft touches, between one return to bed… and another.

They were solving their problems like this.

Like an adult couple that doesn’t know how to talk, that forgives through moans and tangled bodies.

Or maybe… maybe they had been holding back for too long — and now everything had to come out, or else they might die from the urgency of how much they needed each other.

Getting home was the easy part — her parents had already left anyway, and Lottie figured they wouldn’t care much if she said she’d stayed over at one of the friends from the party, or maybe at Jackie’s, in case her dad got suspicious enough to call and check.

She took a quick shower as soon as she got in. The marks from the night before still lingered on her body like a precisely drawn map — across her collarbones, her breasts, her thighs, her neck.

Everything looked carefully traced by Natalie, as if that girl wanted to make sure Lottie wouldn’t forget her the second she walked out the door.

It was like a memory stamped onto her skin. One of those that leave traces — like when you spend too long in a pool and, once you lie down, your body still swears it’s surrounded by water.

Lottie wasn’t exactly sure what kind of switch had flipped in her mind. What impulse had driven her to go after Natalie. What mysterious force had pulled her out of a place she once swore she’d never escape.

It felt like one of those movie scenes — the moment the protagonist finally overcomes something inside her, in a way that’s almost unexplainable.

Or maybe… even explainable.

Because, deep down, that feeling of being stuck, trapped, lost in herself — was exactly what made her want to be found.

And finding Natalie was that, too.

It was finding a part of herself. It was welcoming what she had rejected so many times, with so much disdain.

And ironically, it might just be the truest part of who Lottie Matthews was.

And Lottie wouldn’t run from that.

Not this time.

Even if her defenses still screamed, begging for distance, for restraint, for silence — she knew now that that wasn’t protection.

It was prison.

It was denial.

It was refusing to be who she truly was.

And Lottie didn’t want that anymore.

Even if there was fear.

Even if she didn’t quite know what to do with all of it.

Still, she would stay.

She wouldn’t leave Natalie in that limbo again. She wouldn’t push her away, wouldn’t pretend she didn’t feel it. Because now — now she had her.

And once she’d had Natalie, once she knew what it felt like to be touched and seen that way — she didn’t know if she could ever walk away again.

Everything happened so fast that, when Lottie showed up — like a soaked déjà vu on her doorstep — Natalie thought, for a second, she was hallucinating.

And maybe she still was.

The way everything had spiraled, as if the minutes had folded in on themselves, made it impossible to tell if any of it had really happened. But now, with the store empty and the sound of leaves, of people, of cars, sidewalks, and the ambient music filling the spaces between things, time seemed to finally slow down.

If it weren’t for her skin still burning under the marks left by a ravenous Matthews, if it weren’t for the rumpled sheets, the floral-citrus scent soaked into every fiber of her clothes — Natalie would’ve sworn she imagined it all.

But it was real. Brutally real.

And she was smiling — one of those too-wide, almost painful smiles you try to hold back but can’t. She wasn’t trying to hide it. It was impossible. Because somehow, in the most absurd and wonderful way, Lottie Matthews was running through her veins.

It was like that girl had made her sick, somehow. Like Lottie had infected every part of her with something ridiculously good.

Like she had turned Nat into this… happy thing.

Stupid.

With this almost childlike feeling of having been chosen out of all the other possible options.

It was like the world was laughing at her for it, pointing fingers and cackling, because well — Natalie was clearly in love.

And the craziest part?

For the first time, for some goddamn reason, for some fucking reason she still didn’t understand…

she actually liked the feeling.

The rest of the day went on like any other.

Customers came and went.

Some friends dropped by just to share news, grab a drink, buy some weed, or simply shoot the breeze.

Undecided teenagers wandered around the store trying to trade two records for the price of one, or swap LPs for CDs — with that classic shamelessness of someone who still believes anything’s possible if you just ask nicely.

It was a normal day.

Or almost.

When Natalie went to close the shop’s ledger, right there in the corner of that day’s page, there it was.

A familiar handwriting.

Effortlessly beautiful, like it belonged to someone who had spent hours perfecting it until it looked almost too good to be casual. She’d seen that handwriting plenty of times before.

Don’t forget to call me later.

She let out a nasal laugh. Clingy girl,she thought — just to cover the fact that she was smiling like an idiot.

“Hey.”

Lottie heard the husky voice on the other end of the line. From the sound of her sigh, she guessed Natalie was exhaling cigarette smoke. She smiled with the image warm in her chest — one of those slow smiles that makes you forget to answer for a few seconds.

“Hey.”

Her voice came out too sweet. The kind of sweet that gives everything away — your expression, your eyes, the curve of your lips. She felt her cheeks heat up, as if Nat could see her being soft.

She cleared her throat, trying to sound a bit more normal.

“So… you saw my note?”

A dumb question, but full of meaning. Something beyond the words. A quiet confirmation that they existed.

Nat chuckled softly on the other side — one of those little laughs that slip out with a sly smile.

“You really have to stop leaving me notes like you’re some undercover spy trying to make contact.”

Lottie laughed too, with that stupid happiness rising from her stomach. Her fingers started twirling the phone cord — like they used to.

But now, she knew what that meant.

She knew what she felt. And now, between them, there wasn’t a canyon — just a line. And a few streets.

But not another planet.

“You like it.”

She replied quickly, that teasing tone only Natalie brought out in her.

That surprised Lottie too — how she only turned into this version of herself when Nat was around.

“Oh, yeah, sure…”

Natalie answered, somewhere between sarcasm and a stifled laugh, sounding almost surprised at herself.

“Gotta go now. Will I see you tomorrow??”

It sounded like a simple question, but Lottie knew — it carried hope. She could hear it in her voice, in the pause that followed.

“Of course.”

“Ah… right.”

Silence. Lottie waited. She didn’t know if Natalie had already hung up.

“Nat?”

She asked, just to hear the soft sound on the other end reply:

“Hm?”

She was still there.

“You can call me sweetheart when we’re on the phone.”

She said it half-joking, half-surrendering.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

And then, the line went dead.

The semester was just like all the others: mandatory class schedules, practices, exams. Nothing new.

Lottie woke up at the same time as always — but even though everything in her routine stayed the same, nothing quite felt the same.

It was like she could feel things just a little more. As if, even if just a little, she was more alive than she had been in the previous weeks.

She had breakfast with her parents, blatantly lied about the party when they asked. Told an edited version of the night before, in which she had fun with the rich, spoiled boys — which, of course, hadn’t happened.

But they accepted it, and soon returned to the usual topic, the one they passed back and forth at the table as if Lottie didn’t exist. She didn’t really mind existing there anymore. Not in that space.

She went to school with Laura Lee, like always. They listened to music, and between one track and the next came a few questions.

Why was she so bright? What had happened?

Lottie just shrugged.

Because even though Laura Lee knew — and even though she’d somewhat come to terms with it — talking about it was still too much. Especially with people close to her. It still hurt. It was still too fragile to be said out loud.

She didn’t see Natalie at the start of classes. Not in the hallways, not in the classrooms.

But she did see her at lunch.

There she was, sitting with Kevin at their usual table, seeming engaged in some random conversation.

They looked at each other. Just for a second. Exchanged smiles — and went back to their groups.

But then, for a moment, Natalie passed her in the hallway,

and that look…

That look said everything.

As if they had learned to speak with their minds, as if Nat had sent a private thought,

a signal in the air that existed only for Lottie. And she understood. Understood as if they had scheduled something without words.

And then, just minutes later, Lottie knew exactly where she’d be.

“You took your time.”

Natalie said when she saw Lottie approaching. The blonde girl looked relaxed, leaning against the concrete wall beneath the bleachers, as if that place were part of her. She had that crooked little smile, that aura that never left her — the perfect balance between strange and angelic.

“Sorry. It wasn’t easy to shake off Jackie and Shauna.”

Lottie laughed softly, with that voice that was always too gentle, too polite, too graceful for any inattentive ear.

Natalie smiled back, a lopsided, hesitant smile, like she didn’t quite know what to say. And that was new. Because she always knew. She always had a response at the tip of her tongue — somewhere between sarcasm and irony, between shield and armor.

But now, none of that was there anymore.

Lottie Matthews had undone every barrier with the simple elegance of her steps, with that magnetic gaze.

So Natalie just lit a cigarette, and said with the familiar humor that always kept her steady:

“I bet they were just as eager to get rid of you.”

Lottie stood beside her, so close it felt inevitable. And then she did something surprising. She stole Natalie’s cigarette with a kind of sweet boldness, excessively graceful, because it was a theft in exchange for a kiss — a soft kiss on the cheek that left a cherry-pink glow on Natalie’s pale skin.

“So… how are you feeling about…”

Nat started, testing the waters, the words coming out carefully as she watched Lottie take a drag from the cigarette.

“You know… we literally fucked.”

Matthews coughed at that — and Natalie could swear she choked a little. Her cheeks flushed instantly, a sudden wave of embarrassment painting her face in delicate red. Matthews lightly shoved the blonde’s shoulder, visibly flustered.

“Don’t say it like that, Nat…”

Natalie laughed. Laughed at the softness, the blushing, the way Lottie looked adorable when embarrassed. She took the cigarette back and inhaled, shooting a sideways glance.

“And how am I supposed to say it, then? Like… we made love all night long?”

She shook her head, her sharp smile cutting through the air like some ancient, perfectly charming blade.

“You’re so cheesy, Matthews.”

Teasing and more teasing. Soft shoves, muffled laughs, until the laughter faded — and truth slipped in.

“I still don’t know what things are going to be like,” Lottie said when the silence settled. “I’m still scared.”

And something shifted in Natalie.

Because she’d heard that before — but this time, it felt more grounded. More owned.

“But I’m not going to run from you. Because I like you, Nat. And I like how I feel when I’m around you.”

That caught Natalie off guard. It warmed her. Lottie sounded… steady. For the first time. She took the last drag from the cigarette without saying anything, and reached for Lottie’s hand almost instinctively. Interlaced their fingers like it was already a habit.

“I like who I am when I’m with you.”

It was simple. Shy. But undeniably tender — and so, so sincere.

Natalie raised an eyebrow, dramatically, the sarcasm on her face softened by the warmth in her eyes.

“And who are you when you’re with me?”

She teased, biting back a grin.

Then Lottie turned to her completely, like she’d rehearsed this a thousand times.

“Maybe your girlfriend”

She said it playfully, but her voice held something real beneath it.

She guided Natalie’s hand to her waist — like that was exactly where it belonged all along. Then, with soft fingers, touched her face.

And between one second and the next, she kissed her.

At first, their lips just brushed. A test. Too gentle, too careful — the kind of kiss that carries confessions.

Then Natalie pulled her in gently, gave in to it, kissing her slowly, calmly. And Lottie’s thumbs kept tracing circles on her cheek, like they were shaping the moment.

Lottie’s lips were sweet. Too sweet. And their breaths mingled — mint, cigarette, and cherry. Unexpected. But perfect. As if this had always been meant to feel this natural.

“Are you free after class?”

The question came between kisses — the kind that pause just to catch a breath, or to smile against lips, or to trace the outline of the other’s face before getting lost all over again.

“For what?”

Lottie asked with a quiet smile, her eyes locked into Natalie’s green ones. Her fingertips gently traced the dimples of that mischievous grin, tucking back the platinum strands that had fallen over her face.

“Well…”

The blonde teased, pressing a kiss to Lottie’s chin, with that provocative tone that was so unmistakably hers.

“I want to take you out, Miss Matthews.”

Lottie let out a soft laugh, heart light in her chest. And she answered as if she’d known what she’d say before the words even formed:

“Okay… after class, then.”

Lottie got back to class a little late. She’d stopped by the bathroom first to fix her hair and touch up her smudged lips — there was still color there, and memories too. She hoped no one had noticed she was gone. If they had, well… she’d lie for the second time that week.

And that’s exactly what she did.

Told the girls the period had started early. With that kind of thing, girls tend to be more generous with each other — like there’s a silent pact that it explains any disappearance.

She silently thanked the universe for Laura Lee never walking back with her after lunch. Her friend always went off to piano lessons or joined some club with the church boys she’d known forever. So sneaking away had been easy.

And when she came out, Natalie was there.

Leaning against Lottie’s car, arms crossed, her jacket only making her look more effortlessly cool. That same aura — tough, casual, with delicate features and dark-lined eyes like her signature.

“Keys…”

She said as soon as Lottie approached, flashing that half-smile that meant trouble. Lottie raised a brow, surprised. She hadn’t known Nat could drive.

“Come on, Lawttie…”

The blonde said, gesturing with her hand. Lottie hesitated for half a second — just half — before handing over the keys. It was almost automatic. A gesture of trust. 

She let Natalie take the wheel.

Walked around and climbed into the passenger seat, where, apparently, today she’d be the one being whisked away — not the one doing the whisking.

“Where are we going?”

She asked, buckling her seatbelt, curiosity peeking through. Natalie only smiled, saying nothing. A silence full of intention — the kind that really means “it’s a surprise,” but prefers mystery over cliché.

So Lottie simply accepted it. Accepted the road, the radio, the company beside her — and the fact that, this time, Natalie was the one doing the driving.

And maybe… she kind of liked that.

You Make Loving Fun was playing on the radio as they drove down the road. 

Sometimes Lottie sang softly, and Natalie joined in as if she knew the lyrics to every song in the world — from the ones she adored to the ones she couldn’t stand.

And maybe she really did.

Or maybe she was just the kind of person who sang like she did. And that alone was enough to make Lottie smile.

They pulled up in front of a café near the outskirts of town.

A charming little place, tucked away, like it had been handpicked. And then, something lit up in Lottie’s mind. This was it.

Nat was doing exactly what she had promised — What she once said she’d do if she were her boyfriend.

The blonde smiled before unbuckling her seatbelt and moving to step out of the car. But Lottie’s hand stopped her — gentle, almost hesitant.

“Nat, wait…”

Her voice was soft, as if the moment demanded quiet. Natalie turned her face toward her, and for a second, confusion appeared in the crease between her brows.

But she didn’t ask. She simply waited. 

Lottie leaned in slowly, touched her face with a reverence that made it feel sacred —like she knew exactly how much this meant.

And then, she kissed her. 

A quick kiss. Just the meeting of lips, really — but it said so much. The kind of kiss that couldn’t be given out there, not on the sidewalk. But in here, with the door closed and the music still playing, it could.

“Thank you.”

She whispered it against Natalie’s lips before stealing one more kiss — a second gift.

They walked into the café together. Arms close, but never linked — they could never do that. And honestly, Lottie wasn’t sure she would even if they could. Natalie had her hands shoved into her jacket pockets. 

Lottie clutched the strap of her purse like it anchored her to the ground.

The place was warm — golden-hued under soft lights. Dark wood gave it a vintage feel, almost too vintage, even for the 90s. A classical piece played in the background — Lottie recognized it by the piano and violins. Something slow. Beautiful. Familiar.

They sat by the window. From there, they could see cars passing, people moving through their quiet, unremarkable lives.

They ordered coffee. Not the same kind.

Natalie liked hers too strong for Lottie’s taste — and Lottie made a face, teasing her about being just a passive smoker. Natalie let out a soft laugh — dry, sharp, precise. Lottie laughed too. She loved how easy it came to Natalie. Effortless. Like she didn’t even try.

Their fingers brushed over the table. A touch that felt accidental — but wasn’t. They lingered there. Lightly. Quietly. 

Fingertips twisting, curling. A secret gesture. One more intimate than a kiss. But Lottie kept glancing around. Eyes darting. Careful. Afraid.

Natalie noticed. And in a quiet, graceful motion, she pulled her hand away — no drama, no reproach. 

Just lifted her cup and took a sip.

“I got something for you…”

She said, after a swallow. She didn’t even flinch from the bitterness. And Lottie found that… insanely attractive. Which was silly. But, well — it was a thing.

“I’m starting to feel guilty. I didn’t bring anything for you…”

Lottie mumbled, sheepish — like showing up to a birthday without a gift.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing new.”

Natalie replied, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a book — slightly worn, the edges of the pages yellowed with time.

Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang. 

Lottie recognized the title instantly. And she knew, the second she saw it: 

this wasn’t just a copy. This wasn’t something Natalie bought for her. It was hers. The copy. Read and re-read. Filled with underlines, folds, maybe even a few secrets tucked between the pages.

It wasn’t a casual gift. It was something from inside her. A piece of who she was. An offering, quiet and tender. The kind that said: Here. This is a part of me. I want you to have it.

Lottie didn’t quite know what to say. Words didn’t come easily — not now. She just stared at the book in her hands, almost reverently, like she was holding something made of gold.

And then, quietly, she reached out and touched Natalie’s hand in return.

A small gesture. Almost shy. But full of meaning — full of courage, even with all the internal alarms still buzzing in her chest. And that, in itself, meant something.

They didn’t stay at the café much longer.

Eventually, they left — drifting back onto the road. Natalie behind the wheel, Lottie beside her, all her usual walls down.

There was something different about her now. Lighter. Open. Expectant.

She already had a hunch about their next stop — a park, probably Natalie’s favorite.

Their to-go coffee cups swayed on the dashboard with each turn, each bump.

But neither of them cared.

Their fingers remained tangled together — and it was funny, watching Natalie shift gears with just one hand, refusing to let go of Lottie’s for even a second.

They drove until they reached the nearest park — the one with fallen leaves scattered like confetti, kids sprinting through the grass, riding bikes, or showing off bruised knees with ridiculous cartoon band-aids.

“I bet you were one of those kids.”

Lottie teased, a smirk playing on her lips as they strolled through the park, looking for a quiet spot to sit.

Natalie gave a crooked smile and glanced down at her shoes, as if considering her answer for a split second.

“Oh, definitely. I was probably worse than those little demons over there.”

She said it with that usual mix of sarcasm and nonchalance — the kind that made Lottie let out a soft, involuntary laugh.

“And you, Matthews? Were you the type of kid who brought fancy dolls to tea parties?”

They were back in their old rhythm. The playful teasing, the gentle nudges, the mock outrage wrapped in affection.

“I think I was more like those two over there…”

Lottie nodded toward a pair of girls running after each other, laughing loud, hair flying wildly. They looked free. Almost impossibly sweet.

Natalie watched them for a moment — and somehow, without much effort, she could picture a younger version of Lottie just like that. Running barefoot in a light dress, a dreamy look in her eyes, grass tangled in her curls — a kind of wild innocence Natalie had never imagined she’d associate with her.

They sat beneath a tree, tucked into a quieter corner of the park near a small lake where a few ducks swam lazily. Lottie opened the book Natalie had given her — the worn, well-loved copy — and began to flip through its pages with quiet curiosity.

She quickly noticed the underlined sentences, the margin notes scribbled in impulsive handwriting, the little doodles scattered here and there. They felt personal — like fleeting thoughts, gut reactions, private jokes. Reactions that were unmistakably Natalie’s… or at least, what Lottie imagined to be hers. There was something intimate about it. Something one would only share with someone they truly trusted.

Meanwhile, Natalie had laid her head down in Lottie’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Lottie — as if she had known exactly what to do all along — began to read aloud.

Her voice was soft, unhurried, full of quiet reverence for the words she was speaking. And maybe — just maybe — Natalie was the kind of person who took words seriously. Because by the second page… She was already asleep.

Or at least, pretending to be.

Chapter Text

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since they slept together, since that date, since Lottie finally loosened the ties that had been holding her back.

It felt like freedom — or at least what she imagined freedom would feel like. There was something warm filling her chest, a kind of joy she couldn’t quite explain. Days felt slower when she was waiting to see her, but every call, on the other hand, felt way too short for how much she liked hearing that husky, steady voice on the other end of the line.

They ditched their group of friends whenever they could. Hiding was still precious to Lottie — even now that she felt free to want Natalie, there was still fear. Fear of stares, of judgment, of being found out. She hadn’t even told the people she’d once shared her doubts with — not Laura Lee, not even Shauna knew it was real now. That it was serious. She’d look away when they brought it up, shrug it off. Kept a careful distance from Nat when they were around others. The most they exchanged were those long, lingering glances. A silent conversation. A language only the two of them spoke.

Between classes, they’d sneak through empty hallways, find forgotten corners where they could kiss, smoke together, laugh softly — exist, just a little, outside the world.

Now, outside, a storm was pouring down. One of those rare, heavy rains that only show up in certain times of the year and feel like they’re washing the whole city clean. The loud, angry drops hit the roof of Lottie’s car, drowning out the rest of the world. Her head bumped lightly against the ceiling, but she didn’t care. She was sitting on Natalie’s lap in the passenger seat, their bodies tangled in an intense mess of kisses.

Lottie’s fingers were knotted in Nat’s platinum hair, their tongues meeting, playful bites exchanged, breathing ragged. She felt one of Nat’s hands under her shirt, tracing the warm, goosebumped skin along her waist, sometimes going up to her stomach, but never past that — not anymore.

Lottie had scolded Natalie before for crossing the line, for trying to slide those silly hands over her chest, or wandering too far up her thighs, pushing her skirt up a bit too much. Not that she didn’t like it — but they were still in school, after all. Even in a car, even hidden, even with the rain, even with the almost empty parking lot — they were still there.

But in that moment… it was hard to remember that.

“Nat…”

She whispered against the blonde’s lips, with the same tone you’d use to scold an orange cat about to knock a glass off the table — or a mischievous kid about to get into trouble. Natalie let out a quiet laugh and raised her hands in mock surrender, like she was being arrested.

“Forgive me, Miss Matthews, please.”

She teased, that signature smug tone of hers fully intact, like she wasn’t at all responsible for the situation they were in. Lottie rolled her eyes, smiling as she stole another quick kiss, then started wiping the girl’s smudged lips — they were a mess, and so was the makeup. The black eyeliner that always framed Natalie’s eyes was half gone now.

“You think they noticed we were missing?”

She asked, trying to sound casual, though there was a subtle worry in her voice — something in the way it wavered, in the tiny furrow between her brows. As she spoke, she kept gently running her thumbs under Natalie’s eyes, fixing what she could.

“Relax… practice was canceled anyway.”

Nat said, like there was no such thing as urgency. Her gaze was still glowing — lazy, soft, far too enchanted to care about any warning signs.

The taller girl just nodded, focused on finishing wiping Scartoccio’s cheeks, which looked even more smudged than before — the kind of smudges that only get worse the more you try to clean them. And well, that was totally Natalie’s fault for being way too pale.

“You’re rubbing me like you’re trying to get off oil paint.”

Natalie grumbled, her voice slow and slightly annoyed, making Lottie laugh at how adorably grumpy she sounded. She leaned in and stole another kiss mid-laugh, like she just couldn’t help herself.

“You know that’s just gonna mess up what you literally just cleaned.”

Natalie said, like she was stating some kind of universal truth, a sharp little smile curling at her lips before she rolled her eyes — in that signature way of hers, somehow charming even when she was complaining.

“Okay, grumpy.”

Lottie replied, giggling softly as she gave the girl a playful pat on the shoulder before climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“Wait a sec, why are you comparing me to a Smurf?”

Came the protest right after, in a tone that was almost offended — genuinely outraged — the kind that already proved Lottie’s point before she even had to say anything. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she buckled her seatbelt and started the car.

“No… like, seriously…”

She gave up when she realized she wasn’t getting an answer — not beyond watching that girl try to hold back a laugh that was definitely going to escape in a few seconds. And Nat — well, Nat seemed to forget all about her fake outrage the second Lottie’s canines showed in that sweet smile that only she had. What the hell did this girl do to her? She had to be infected or something. Because she just couldn’t keep it together — all it took was one move from Lottie Matthews and Natalie would completely lose her grip, forget every thought in her head that still made any sense.

She looked straight ahead. The rain blurred the windshield, while the wipers worked hard to clear the way. Traffic had slowed down, the streets were messier, people were in more of a rush to get out of them. But Nat didn’t care. She wasn’t annoyed by the delay, or the blaring horns from bald, grumpy men. She wasn’t bothered by that damn feeling of being completely gone. She just… was.

She was there, enjoying Lottie’s company, even knowing that she’d end up convincing her — with a smile, with a touch, with a kiss — to go into the shop and stay a little longer. Because between one kiss and the next, Lottie always managed to stick around.

Or maybe it was Natalie herself who was turning into a clingy mess. Thinking that made her feel kinda sick — but only because it was true.

They got to Nat’s shop and Lottie simply followed her inside, slamming the car door shut and running through the rain like they could still somehow outrun the heavy drops already soaking their clothes. They both laughed as they came in, drenched, hair stuck to their foreheads, shoes squeaking against the wooden floor. Natalie flipped the light on and took off her jacket — a few drops were still sliding down the worn leather, but she couldn’t have cared less. Funny thing was, it was her favorite jacket.

“Okay, I can’t stay long.”

Lottie warned, already dropping her bag onto Natalie’s table as they stepped into the back room. Nat just gave her a crooked smile — the kind that said everything without actually saying anything. She knew damn well that most of the time, that was a lie. Every time Lottie had said that before, she ended up staying for hours.

And not like Nat was going to complain. God, she’d never complain about that.

Lottie headed to the tiny kitchen to make hot chocolate while Nat sat down in front of the store’s finances. She had to restock some records, adjust prices, check in on the week’s goals. Things were starting to get a little chaotic — but the good kind of chaos. It meant money was coming in, the business was moving. She lit a cigarette while she worked, the scent blending with the sound of rain hitting the roof.

It only took a few minutes for the familiar sound of a steaming mug landing on the little table to reach her — followed by the warmth of a kiss between her neck and shoulder.

“I have to go now…”

Lottie announced, her voice soft and almost guilty. Nat tilted her head up from where she was still sitting, catching sight of the girl from a weird angle — and even then, she looked stupidly beautiful. Ridiculously tall. With that Lottie Matthews face that was just way too hard to ignore.

“Now?”

She asked, just to mess with her, even though she already knew the answer. It was a test — a little game they played. Lottie rolled her eyes in response, in that way that was stupidly adorable. A roll of the eyes that somehow made Nat forget the kink in her neck from the awkward angle.

“Yes, now.”

She repeated, this time with a tone that sounded a lot like Natalie’s — just more contained, too polite, like someone had stitched goddamn manners into her soul. Then she leaned down again, gave Nat a quick kiss on the lips, her brown hair falling like a curtain around Natalie’s face. Not that she minded one bit.

“Can I know why?”

Nat whispered, a sly smile tugging at her lips — that soft kind of mischief that only came out in moments like this. More than teasing. More than flirting. It was tenderness in disguise.

“My dad’s starting to ask why I’ve been showing up late for dinner. Or, you know, skipping it altogether without warning.”

Lottie warned with a heavy, almost theatrical sigh — like she was already tired before even leaving. Nat rolled her eyes, watching the girl lightly touch her shoulder as she walked around the chair, starting to step away.

“Oh right… forgot about your fucking dad.”

She spat the words with that familiar bitterness — the kind she threw into the air whenever she wanted to cover up how much something actually bothered her. Lottie paused for a second, her body still facing the door, but her head turned back, her expression faintly bothered.

“Don’t talk like that, Nat.”

She said without any real weight to it — no sharp tone, no true scolding. It was almost neutral, like she hadn’t fully decided whether it was worth defending him. And maybe it wasn’t. But something in her still made her try, even without much conviction.

Natalie let out a dry laugh and shoved the chair back. In one swift move, she grabbed Lottie by the arm and pulled her down — straight onto her lap.

“Alright… no more comments about tuo padre è uno stronzo.”

She said with a sharp smile on her face, almost proud of her own boldness. Lottie narrowed her eyes at her, clearly suspicious, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed any attempt at indignation. It was satisfying — and Natalie knew it. She knew Lottie liked hearing her speak Italian, even if she’d never admit it so easily.

“What did you say…?”

The question came in that mock-offended tone, paired with a light slap on the shoulder. Natalie tried to hide the grin threatening to spread too wide across her face — she felt kinda dumb. Really fucking dumb, honestly. Just because of a girl.

“I said your dad is a really great guy.”

She answered, barely holding in the laugh that bubbled up at the sheer pleasure of lying for fun. And before their expressions could give it all away — before Lottie could ask again or throw something back at her — Natalie just kissed her.

Because sometimes, when you’re completely fucked and madly for someone, the best answer is still a really good kiss.

Natalie thought it was stupidly adorable when Lottie ended their kisses with a bunch of quick ones — on her lips, then scattered across her face, like she was mapping out every inch of her. But of course, she’d never admit that. Not out loud. She knew Matthews did it as a kind of goodbye: way too affectionate, almost childish, but full of that silent urge to stay, even when she had to go.

She got one last kiss on the lips after a whole trail over her cheeks, her nose, her eyes — even the corners of her mouth.

“Okay… I’m going now.”

Lottie said, leaving one final kiss to seal the goodbye before standing up. She grabbed her bag… and a jacket. It took Natalie a few seconds to register — her head still foggy, her lips tingling — until it hit her. She had grabbed her jacket.

She stood up fast, crossing the shop just in time to see the girl about to open the door, her face wearing an absolutely wicked smile. Wicked and elegant — the way only she could pull off.

“You’re really stealing my fucking jacket.”

She said, eyebrows raised, arms crossed, trying to hold a tough stance. Trying — because, well… that girl completely wrecked her.

“It’s just a loan, Scartoccio.”

Matthews called out seconds before disappearing through the door — taking the jacket and the air from the room with her, leaving Natalie standing there, thrown off, laughing at herself like an idiot as she shook her head in disbelief.

What the fucking hell was Lottie Matthews doing to her?

A funny thing about now was how the repetitive cycles — the routine, the obligations — didn’t just feel like things that had to get done. Somehow, they felt sweeter. A little messier too, since Lottie had never imagined trading her piano lessons for quick hangouts in the library or stolen kisses under the bleachers.

Sometimes, she and Nat didn’t have to do anything. And sometimes, they really didn’t. They studied, read, worked. But there was always the quiet certainty of each other’s presence — and that felt like enough.

Still, they had their own lives, their friends, their separate worlds. It wasn’t like they’d disappeared into a bubble where only the two of them existed — quite the opposite. They kept their routines apart: Lottie with her mall trips, tea with friends, the occasional book club. Nat with her parties, her records, the gigs in music circles — some of them really bad, the kind she’d spend hours complaining about to Lottie afterward.

And Lottie, well… she listened to it all. As if every five cuss words in each sentence were some kind of rehearsed love letter.

The problem was, things were getting harder to hide. Not exactly from the world, but from the sharp eyes of the people who really knew them. And Lottie knew it was only a matter of time before Jackie, Shauna — or even Laura Lee — started putting the pieces together: the reason she and Natalie kept disappearing, the way she’d been walking around looking almost… sunny, when not long ago she’d been all confusion and stormclouds.

Or the fact that Natalie’s jacket had been lying across Lottie’s car seat that morning.

And, well, the questioning came during one of those all-girls outings — the kind where they took over cafés, stirred up chaos, and gossiped like they lives depended on it. Jackie was eyeing her suspiciously, big eyes slightly narrowed, focused on a very specific spot on Lottie’s neck. One that was kind of red. Kind of purple. One she never really managed to hide.

“Okay… who are you seeing?” Jackie asked, sharp, straightening up in her chair.

Lottie held her breath. Let a small crease form between her brows, trying to look just a little surprised by the question.

“No one…” she answered — not too quickly — taking a sip of coffee like it might somehow save her.

Jackie rolled her eyes.

“Oh, for God’s sake, you look like you just hit puberty. You’ve got a huge hickey on your neck!”

Lottie instinctively brought a hand up to it, rubbing at the spot like that would magically erase it. She was mentally cursing herself for letting Natalie get so free with that. When she was with her, it was like nothing else mattered anymore.

“Must’ve been a bug bite.”

“Oh sure. And this ‘bug’ is an emo girl, five-foot-six…”  Shauna muttered, bored, stirring her drink with the straw. 

Lottie stared at her instantly, like someone who’d just witnessed a betrayal in real time.

“What?” Shauna asked, narrowing her eyes right back. “Just say you’re seeing Natalie, Lottie. It’s not that deep.”

She said it almost lazily, with a shrug. Jackie, on the other hand, whipped her head around to her girlfriend with a stunned expression.

“Wait… you knew it?”

Lottie let out a heavy sigh.

She felt a little exposed — but, well, it wasn’t as bad as her mind had imagined it would be. That same mind that loved building labyrinths of fears and pointless thoughts, the kind that made her avoid telling or admitting anything, even to people close to her. Even to people who were just like her.

Which, deep down, was strange. Because she should feel comfortable with this. It should be easy. But her mind was still some kind of locked gate — one of those turnstiles you can only pass with a special keycard, and she never seemed to have it in her pocket.

She finally stepped in, cutting through the light back-and-forth between Jackie and Shauna, who were trading jabs over who knew what and since when. They tossed their little barbs like it wasn’t even about Lottie anymore — just the gossip of the day. And maybe, in a way, it was.

Lottie blinked, watching them, and suddenly realized how much she’d underestimated Shauna in all this.

Of course she already knew. She couldn’t forget the talks they’d had before. And of course she knew that Lottie and Nat liked each other — because Lottie had told her. Of course she knew about the earlier drama — because Shipman had witnessed it.

So now, putting the pieces together wasn’t hard. Not for someone who already knew too much. Lottie knew Shauna would figure out how things had unfolded sooner or later — even without her saying a word — because that girl always notices.

And now that she thought about it, she couldn’t really blame her for being direct and shoving her down the hill with the reveal — because, let’s face it, Lottie Matthews wasn’t going to take a step like that without spiraling around it for hours first.

Just another day at the shop.

And today, especially, felt like one of those chaotic days when not even a cigarette could calm her nerves. Restocking inventory, bills to pay, nonstop calls from suppliers — all the usual things Natalie had to deal with, scribbling down area codes in her notebook so she wouldn’t forget.

There was even a certain relief when she went out with her friends the night before to celebrate Kevin’s birthday. It was actually kind of fun. They went to some new bar in town — part of that dumb tradition of mapping and maybe ranking the best ones. They chatted about nothing, passed a joint around here and there, and made the most of the open bar line as soon as it opened.

They brought cards, tried to play pool — but Kevin sucked, as always. And every time Natalie ended up on his team, they lost. Which meant they had to buy a round for everyone. Van, on the other hand, was good at everything. Always winning — at cards, pool, foosball, arcade games. That’s just how she was.

Natalie remembered when Kevin got a Game Boy for his birthday, a couple of years back. They used to bet on high scores or dumb stuff like that. And Van… Van was a demon to beat. Always had the best scores. Always impossible to top.

But the real problem was that the sun always came up. Morning always came — inevitable — and with it, the return to that chaotic routine that wasn’t exactly bad, just stupidly messy. And maybe exhausting. Still, she handled it. She handled everything. Including the consequences of having drunk way too much the night before, because now her head was pounding, and nothing seemed to help.

And she wasn’t even sure if it was just the hangover… or the envelope she was now holding in her hands.

A letter from her mom. Well — not exactly a letter. A hospital bill.

Ridiculously high.

Natalie sighed. What the hell had that old woman gotten herself into now?

She didn’t have the guts to read all the details. Couldn’t bring herself to face the reasons that had led to this. But one thing was certain: the bill needed to be paid.

And even though Natalie didn’t want to care… deep down, she did.

She didn’t have that kind of money.

She couldn’t even understand how hospitals and treatments could be so absurdly expensive. The kind of cost she avoided at all costs — even in near-death situations. And sometimes, in those situations, she honestly thought maybe death was a more dignified option than ending up in a hospital.

She ran her hands over her face, exhausted, and dropped the paper on the counter. Lit another cigarette with fingers trembling from stress. Took a deep drag, like maybe the smoke could silence something inside her — some tightness, some pressure. She looked at the paper again, then shoved it back into the envelope. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She was too buried, too trapped, too surrounded by everything to come up with a solution right now.

So she just stood there, leaning into the cigarette and the inertia.

That strange feeling of having too many thoughts and, at the same time, a mind too full to hold onto any of them. Nothing made sense, nothing lined up. There was just the body — tension, smoke, and the dull pounding in her chest.

Until Lottie Matthews walked in.

Just like that. 

The door opened and she appeared, suddenly. As if she had no idea what her presence could do. As if she wasn’t her own kind of spectacle.

She wore Natalie’s jacket over an oversized button-up shirt, one that swallowed the shorter outfit underneath and left her legs exposed — long, elegant legs that looked like they’d been sketched by hand. Effortless, but still refined, like even casual clothing bent to her natural aesthetic. She had a disproportionate kind of charm, moved like she didn’t know the effect she had — or worse: like she knew exactly. And Nat, even with her skull splitting open from stress, could only let out a low sigh because, fuck, that girl…

Lottie Matthews could walk into a room and silence every thought in the world, pulling all attention to herself.

And still, there was something delicate about her — a quiet shyness that stood in sharp contrast to the magnetic presence she carried. She was striking like a billboard in Times Square, like one of those stars in the sky that shine harder than the rest — the ones people point at, the ones that become wishes and constellations. That polite, gentle shyness only made the glow brighter. Like two opposite forces that didn’t cancel each other out but completed one another. Like sand and water turning to mud. Like the low hum of the bass anchoring the chaos of a guitar solo. That kind of perfect contradiction.

“Sorry for not giving you a heads-up.”

She said it casually, crossing the room to reach Natalie, who was subtly shoving the envelope into the first drawer she could find.

“It was a nice surprise.”

Nat admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Lottie smiled too, but her gaze lingered — like she was trying to read something, like she could see beneath the surface.

“Are you okay?”

The question came in that soft voice of hers — polite, but laced with real concern. She dropped her bag on the counter and stepped closer like she was about to check for a fever — gently, carefully, but determined not to leave without an answer.

“Oh yeah. Just tired as fuck.”

Matthews studied her for a moment — like someone searching for something deeper, trying to decide, between the lines, whether or not to believe the answer. But at some point, she simply gave in. She adjusted Natalie’s shirt on her shoulders, smoothing it gently, then slid a hand along her cheek and caressed it. A touch that brought more comfort than even the cigarette still burning between Natalie’s fingers could offer. Then, a quick kiss — one of those that say “hi” and, at the same time, try not to be noticed.

“I brought food.”

The taller girl announced, wearing a smile that was dumbly adorable — the kind that sent vertiginous waves through Natalie’s chest and calmed her down in the weirdest way. It still felt strange that things were like this. Not that everything was solved — it wasn’t — but now, they simply were.

They were. Real and surrendered.

And that was strange. Because Scartoccio wasn’t familiar with this. For some reason, her chest was more accustomed to silence, to what was unspoken, to limbo. She didn’t believe she could be the soft kind.

Natalie’s feelings had always come with an aftertaste. Her past relationships had felt like rope — dragging, pulling, pushing away. Just like her and Lottie, a few weeks ago. And it was strange, because Nat hadn’t known it could also be silly, and calm, and ridiculous. She always thought loving someone meant some kind of painful surrender, an unrelenting passion — the kind that hurt as much as it beat. That’s how it had always been before.

But it didn’t feel like that with Lottie. Despite everything they had faced — the doubts, the fears, the walls — it didn’t. It felt like, in the middle of the chaos, they somehow could. Like they had permission.

But maybe — just maybe — that was only because it was still new. Because she was ridiculously, hopelessly into Matthews.

She thanked her with another kiss and gave the girl a good once-over, dramatically asking her to spin around — twirling her index finger as a signal. And when Lottie obeyed, she just let out a nasal laugh, while the taller girl blushed and giggled, listening to Natalie’s sarcastic compliments about how fucking hot she looked or whatever. That tone — always dripping with mockery, but also, always, laced with truth.

They ate from Lottie’s favorite restaurant. Natalie actually appreciated the choice. They talked a little about their day; Lottie shared about her coffee outing with Jackie and Shauna, and Nat summed up that she was swamped at the store and just plain tired. She didn’t want to talk about the envelope. Didn’t want to think about it, let alone let it weigh down the little time she still had to enjoy this girl’s company.

And there, lying in her arms, nose buried deep in her neck, clinging to Lottie’s warmth and feeling her soft kisses and light touches on her back, Natalie found a bit of relief. A bit of peace. Even though, deep in her mind, the issue with the envelope still made some noise, that noise seemed to fade with every second Lottie held her tighter, kissed her more, touched her more — sliding up her shirt slowly, tracing delicate shapes across her pale skin with her fingertips.

“I love your freckles.”

Lottie said it when the silence seemed to swallow them whole. Not out of discomfort, but because of an unconscious urge to say something to Natalie. As if she simply couldn’t admire it in silence.

She felt Natalie smile against her neck — that breathy, amused kind of smile that escapes from nowhere, like it can’t be held in. It sent a light shiver down her skin. Warm, comforting, unmistakable. Mixed with the faint spark of a jolt, because the tip of that girl’s nose was right there, brushing against her skin. And subtle as it was, Lottie felt it more intensely than anything else. As if she couldn’t feel the fabric of her own clothes, but could feel every small touch of Nat’s — from the obvious, like being wrapped in her arms with Natalie lying on her chest, to the barely-there ones.

“Yeah, and you adore me too.”

Nat said, sounding cocky in that way that made Lottie laugh instantly, with no effort at all. Because it was just Natalie being Natalie. And also because… it was true. Lottie adored her no matter what.

“Don’t be so full of yourself…”

She replied, playing along with that light, teasing tone. That atmosphere that came so naturally between them — like it had been rehearsed by the universe. The kind of connection that felt written in the stars from the very first time they met.

Natalie suddenly sat up, staring at her with a mischievous smile that clearly spelled trouble. The kind Lottie liked — and liked a lot.

“So you’re saying you hate your girlfriend, then?”

She said dramatically. Her green eyes narrowed with pretend suspicion, something childlike in her mockery, playful exaggeration drawn across her brows and lips — that crooked smile with those slightly rounded teeth.

Lottie adjusted herself in bed, leaning further against the headboard as she looked at her with a perfectly raised brow. Almost rehearsed.

“Girlfriend??? I don’t recall being asked about that, Scartoccio.”

She teased, trying to hold back her smile, to keep the mock indignation — the tone of that rehearsed little thing that was so real, so theirs. Natalie rolled her eyes like she hated this kind of game — pulled a dramatic face.

“Oh no, that’s way too conventional.”

Her voice was lazy and defensive, a childish complaint, like trying to convince a grumpy old man to take his medicine. But at the same time, it was light and funny. Lottie wanted to smile more than she should. More than she was allowed to.

“You’re gonna have to ask.”

Arms crossed, tone playful — the kind you use when you’re stirring things up just because you can. It was obvious Natalie didn’t need to ask. Not really. And it was obvious Lottie was already hers, way before this conversation even started. But it was fun being the one to make a fuss, just this once.

“No… I’m not gonna ask.”

The blonde said it like she was giving up. But also like she had already decided she would ask — proudly, even. Lottie wanted to bite her. Because the whole thing was strangely adorable.

“Okay.”

She replied like she was saying, No asking, no dating, even though they both knew it wasn’t true. Even though she had already said yes the second Natalie dropped that “my girlfriend” in the middle of their performative flirting and sugar-coated sarcasm. Natalie rolled her eyes again, like someone bored — but Lottie knew. She knew she was enjoying it.

And then, in that tone that pretended reluctance but was all longing underneath, Natalie finally said:

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

She felt those green eyes on her. Something tightened and bloomed in her chest, a good feeling — maybe even one without a name. She tried to keep a straight face for a few seconds, just to tease — but the smile came. Unfiltered, far too happy. Giving everything away.

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes, in a playful and failed attempt to cover it up, to keep the game going. But her smile was way too big. Everything was too much.

And Natalie… Natalie just kissed her.

Chapter Text

Natalie’s breathing was erratic.

Her chest rose and fell too fast, like the air didn’t have enough oxygen. Eyes shut, skin slick with sweat, sparks running wild through her bloodstream—everything felt too hot, too alive. Her hair stuck to her forehead, and her hand was tangled deep in Lottie’s brown waves, now completely messy.

She felt like she was about to explode. She was on the verge of combustion when Lottie curled her fingers inside her and cradled her pleasure with her tongue. She was a fast learner—absurdly fast—and Natalie felt her body unravel, entirely surrendered to this girl she called by name between moans and half-formed curses.

And then it hit.

Relief poured through her, warmth spread like a fever, that kind of overwhelming bliss that short-circuits every nerve ending.

Lottie moved up her body with kisses, stopping at Natalie’s mouth, where she pressed quick pecks before wrapping her tightly in her arms. She held her close, anchoring her as the blonde walked that fine line between pleasure and sensitivity, still trembling, still completely hers.

“Are you gonna stay?”

Lottie asked, voice low, brown eyes so needy it made Natalie mentally curse herself for melting all over again.

“Babe…”

She mumbled, rolling her eyes—but the rejection came softened by a quick kiss to Lottie’s lips. She pushed back the wild, damp hair from her face, leaving a trail of kisses down to her marked collarbone.

“You know I have to go.”

She whispered against soft skin, scattering more kisses from shoulder to neck, as if hoping Lottie would melt right there and drop the subject. And Lottie, oh… Lottie had those eyes.

Those damn brown eyes that knew exactly what they were doing. They were some kind of enchantment. A curse dressed up as tenderness. They made Natalie want to give in to anything. They made her want to die happy, drowning in that gaze.

A fucking siren. That’s what Matthews was

And Nat knew it wasn’t just some kind of Lottie-style pout asking her to stay—it was real longing. The kind that aches.

She knew.

She knew because she’d been absent. Working too much, trying to keep the store running, taking whatever side job paid even the bare minimum.

All because of that damn woman who insisted on being called a mother.

Maybe it was a punishment — a silent revenge for what happened with her father years ago. As if Natalie had been the villain in that story. As if she were the abusive one. As if she had kicked her own daughter out of the house. As if she had destroyed everything. But she hadn’t. And still, here she was.

Working herself to the bone for someone who had despised her for as long as she could remember.

Because deep down—even though she hated to admit it — she still had compassion.

She still cared.

And that… that drained her.

Natalie was exhausted. So exhausted that the only times she’d seen Lottie in the past few weeks were at school — a quick kiss after practice, a fleeting touch in the hallway, a glance that lingered longer than it should’ve.

Nothing intense. 

Nothing enough.

She missed her. Her presence, her laugh. The scent that was only Lottie’s. Her kisses, her jokes, the way she played with her bangs when she was nervous. Her canines. The way she said her name. All of it. Everything that Lottie was.

It might not sound like a long time.

But for two teenage girls, completely entangled in each other, living the kind of love that consumes, that burns, that overflows — a few weeks felt like an eternity.

And Nat figured she wouldn’t even be there now, this emotionally bare, if Matthews hadn’t actually been hurt. But she understood— It wasn’t childish sulking, it wasn’t needy whining.

It was exhaustion.

Exhaustion from trying to make sense of something that simply couldn’t be explained. Natalie wasn’t talking. She wasn’t sharing what she felt, what was going on. She was hiding it.

And she knew Lottie wasn’t stupid.

She knew she saw everything, even when nothing was said. She knew she was avoiding pressure — that was just Lottie’s way. But still, she was hurt.

Lottie had even offered to help at the store, just because she could tell how worn out Nat had become. And that… that only made Natalie feel guiltier. Not for the distance, but for her ego. For her pride.

Because part of her knew she didn’t want Lottie there. 

Not because she didn’t love her — the opposite, actually. It was because she knew that if Lottie was around, just one look, one touch, one smile and she’d be lost in her.

And because telling the truth — actually opening up about what was happening — required a level of vulnerability Natalie wasn’t ready for.

Because she knew Lottie would want to help. She’d be the first one to offer. But Natalie didn’t accept help. From anyone. She never had. Never needed to.

Lottie could hardly believe it when she saw Natalie at her bedroom window late at night — like some idiot protagonist in a romance movie, showing up just because they’d had a mild argument over the phone. Not exactly a fight… but Lottie had gotten upset, hung up before things got too heated or before she said something unfair. She knew Natalie was busy, that she was juggling a million things, and she got that. But still, something felt off — a nagging intuition that haunted her quietly.

“Darling… you do know it’s really late, right?”

She tried to reason with her, between one kiss and another, all of them placed very strategically — meant to distract. Lottie recognized the pattern: Natalie didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to make sure things were okay — or pretend they were.

They’d shifted positions. Now Lottie was lying on the sheets while Nat hovered above her, pressing kisses to her face with disproportionate tenderness — the kind she’d later pretend to complain about, calling Lottie clingy just to cover up how much she actually loved it.

“Promise you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Natalie asked, dropping a string of quick kisses to her lips. The kind that made Lottie want to laugh, even when she was trying to keep a more serious face.

“I’m still mad…”

She replied, though it wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, she’d forgotten almost everything the moment Natalie showed up at her window. That ridiculous girl, acting like a lovesick fool, had the power to do that to her. And maybe — just maybe — Lottie had wished for someone like that without knowing it, somewhere between the pages of some random book she’d read.

Natalie laughed and kissed her again — this time deeper, more filled with love. Those restless hands got lost between her legs, slowly making the world disappear, moan by moan, until all that remained was the heat of her body and the soft haze taking over her mind.

Nat stayed.

Of course she stayed.

They fell asleep after a while, bodies warm and worn out, tangled together in a comfort that only existed between them. The kind of rest the outside world could never offer.

Lottie woke up first, with Natalie still by her side. She knew she was there — could hear her heavy breathing, the dragged rhythm of someone who hadn’t slept well in a long time.

When she turned to look, Nat was lying on her stomach. Her blonde hair framed her face in a way that was almost angelic. She looked peaceful. Across her back, freckles were scattered like constellations Lottie hadn’t fully mapped yet — but she would, little by little. She loved those freckles. The ones that stretched across her shoulders, the ones that appeared on her face in the middle of winter or under the unbearable heat of summer. She loved how they showed up quietly, like little secrets imprinted on her skin.

“Stop staring at me like a creep.”

Nat mumbled into the pillow, tugging at the covers with a lazy, adorable motion — like a kid begging for five more minutes of sleep.

“Am I not allowed to admire my girlfriend now?”

Lottie replied with a soft laugh, getting no clear answer — just another muffled groan as Scartoccio burrowed further into her, hiding her face in the curve of Lottie’s neck and shoulder.

Lottie just held her. Let her sleep a little longer. It was still early, anyway.

And honestly, nothing in the world felt more urgent than this: Natalie, finally sleeping in peace.

With her.

She woke up hours later to someone knocking at the door — and her mind immediately screamed in alarm.

Malcolm Matthews.

What the hell was he doing there, at that hour? Wasn’t he supposed to be out of town? A meeting with investors or something like that?

Lottie held her breath.

She needed to wake Nat.

She needed to hide her.

“Nat… Nat,”

she whispered, gently shaking the girl’s shoulder. Natalie groaned like a grumpy dog.

“My dad… you need to hide.”

She said it again, this time her heart racing, her whisper turning more frantic.

The blonde was still soft with sleep, her eyes heavy — she felt warm, maybe feverish, or just plain exhausted. But the sound of Malcolm Matthews’ voice outside the door snapped Natalie awake fast. Still half-naked and disoriented, Lottie practically shoved her into the closet.

She grabbed the first piece of clothing off the floor — no clue if it was hers or Nat’s — and threw it over her body, trying to look as casual as possible. Like she’d just rolled out of bed after a full night’s sleep.

Not after sex. 

Which she obviously had.

But her father absolutely did not need to know that.

He couldn’t.

She rushed to the door and cracked it open, only after hearing the soft click of the wardrobe door closing behind her.

The room was a mess.

The bed even worse.

Still, Lottie put on her best sleepy face, pushing panic somewhere deep behind her eyes.

“Morning, Dad,”

she said through a fake yawn, her voice just the right amount of groggy. Malcolm offered a faint smile — stiff, as always — but clearly bought the act.

Not like he paid enough attention to her to notice something was off.

He gently pushed the door open further and stepped inside. Lottie, in one quick motion, sat down on top of Natalie’s shirt and kicked her shoes under the bed with her heel.

The move was a little too quick, too unnatural — and she saw the crease forming between Malcolm’s brows.

His eyes swept the room.

Lottie adjusted the pillows with the awkward grace of someone embarrassed by a messy bed — or at least trying hard to look like that was all it was.

“Your mother and I are heading to the club. We were wondering if you’d like to come with us.”

Relief hit her so fast it almost knocked her flat.

He wasn’t there for anything serious. 

Even better: he’d be leaving soon.

Lottie crafted a look of faint disappointment, a small crooked smile like she genuinely wished she could go.

She ran her fingers through her bangs and delivered her line:

“I’d love to, but I have an oral exam tomorrow and I’m not totally confident yet. So… I’ll stay in and study.”

Malcolm nodded, a proud smile on his lips. Of course. That’s what he expected of her — to be the best, or at least try.

He stepped forward, placed a dry kiss on her forehead, and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

As soon as he crossed the hallway, Lottie dropped the smile and rushed toward the closet. She was opening it when — The bedroom door opened again.

Lottie’s heart nearly stopped.

Malcolm stepped back inside just as she was slamming the closet door shut and leaning against it.

“I forgot to say we need to talk about your lateness to family meals and meetings.”

And then he left again. 

The door shut once more.

It was only when the sound of the doorknob stopped echoing that Lottie finally exhaled. She turned and opened the closet at last, her heart still hammering against her ribs.

“Well… I forgot to say we need to talk about your lateness to family meals and meetings” 

Natalie said as she stepped out of the closet, using a childish voice to mimic Lottie’s father mid-laugh. Lottie gave her a mildly annoyed look—but not really. It was just the shock still fading from her body.

Sunday wasn’t usually a day Natalie opened the store. But lately… well, she had been. She’d open on Sundays and mark down a few repeat records in the stock or those that always got left behind.

Now, she and Lottie were taking turns between organizing the sections and managing the register—because of course Matthews had insisted on coming along. And the downside of dating a rich, spoiled girl was that apparently, she didn’t know how to take “no” for an answer.

Not that Nat was actually bothered by it. She just felt like she wasn’t ready to talk. And that weighed on her, in some quiet, gnawing way. Because she knew the right thing to do was to tell Lottie. It’s not like she didn’t have the right to her own privacy… but still, they were girlfriends now. And it didn’t feel right to keep hiding things, pretending not to care.

Still—even so—she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

First, out of self-protection. And second, because she didn’t want to drag Lottie even deeper into that part of her life. That part should’ve been left behind already.

Marking down some records actually drew attention—along with a few of Lottie’s suggested sales. Natalie wasn’t surprised. Maybe spending so much time at the mall turned a rich girl into someone genuinely good at selling stuff. And, well… maybe Matthews’ aura pulled in more customers than Natalie would ever admit.

Because she had that thing. That subtle, polished charm. That patience Nat absolutely didn’t have—even though she could name every record in the store, knew the bands, the songs, the writers, all the history.

But Lottie… Lottie had something more. Maybe it was the way she listened. The way she made people feel interesting, even when they were saying the dumbest things.

And that was making Nat roll her eyes, because there was this guy—some random idiot—who just wouldn’t leave. And he was way too focused on keeping up some pointless conversation with her girlfriend.

She wanted to kick him out. Toss the guy onto the street and lock the door. But Lottie, of course, managed to sell him four records in the middle of that useless conversation. So Natalie had to put up with the endless chatter.

Still, she could’ve killed him with a single look. And if looks really could kill, that guy would’ve turned to ash a long time ago—and definitely wouldn’t still be trying to ask Matthews out between laughs.

“Don’t be so jealous,”

Lottie said through a laugh, once the guy finally left the store, leaving them alone.

“Who said I was?”

Natalie tried to deflect, humor laced into her voice, that sharp-edged smile ready to go, like an automatic reflex.

Lottie just stepped closer, teasing clear in her tone.

“Jesus Christ, you were practically burning holes in him with your eyes.”

Nat knew it was probably true—she had been jealous. But she would never admit to something as ridiculous as that. So she let her smirk do the talking, brushing it off with sarcasm.

“I was just making sure he wasn’t a thief.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, and Lottie—though she didn’t say it—felt a little stupidly happy knowing Nat got jealous over her. Not that she admitted it, of course. That girl never admitted anything easily. And that was something Lottie had picked up on early… and turned into her own secret weapon against her girlfriend’s relentless sarcasm.

“Of records or girlfriends?”

She shot back with a sly grin, clearly proud of the jab—even if she couldn’t quite hide how adorable she found it when Nat got a little riled up.

“Oh my god, shut up!”

Scartoccio gave her a light shove on the shoulder, playful, in that way they always exchanged teasing and flirty jabs. Lottie kissed her cheek, then the corner of her lips, and Natalie returned a quick peck before saying, in her usual sharp, joking tone:

“You’re distracting me. Get back to work or I’m docking your pay!”

After a long day, Lottie went home. Actually, way before dinner — either to earn a few points with her father or, maybe, to get his scolding out of the way sooner. Which was funny. Most people tend to delay those things, to avoid lectures and reprimands, but Lottie… Lottie just gathered her armor and hoped everything would be over as quickly as possible. She was too tired to dodge yet another speech she already knew line by line, word for word, expression by expression, gesture and glance — almost like the most overplayed scene in a movie, one that lived on repeat.

“Where were you this afternoon?”

Malcolm asked, stabbing his food with a fork as if killing the animal — but in such a natural way that he only looked like a refined, hungry old man. He glanced at Lottie while shifting his attention between his plate and his daughter.

“I was studying…”

Lottie whispered, still caught somewhere between polite and defensive. Her mother sat quietly beside her, as always, simply listening to Malcolm Matthews be his usual self.

“No, you weren’t.”

He cut her off, eyes still locked on his plate. One arm resting on the table as if etiquette rules didn’t apply to him.

“Dad, I…”

Lottie looked down at the table, her eyes searching for a specific spot, as if unable to face him. Because facing him would mean standing her ground — and Lottie… Lottie had no weapons left, no energy for that. It was as if her father were some sort of higher deity, one she owed only lowered eyes, agreement, and obedience. Though that devotion had long since disappeared.

“No, Charlotte! Enough! You’re lying, you’ve been late to your appointments… and I will not tolerate that.”

That’s how it went. Always like that. Nothing ever changed. Their relationship moved in perfectly predictable cycles, going from control to frustration in a matter of seconds. A kind of unhinged arrogance from her father, who valued timeliness and dinners more than his own daughter. Lottie wasn’t sure if he was just one of those cliché men — bitter, in direct proportion to how much money he had — or if he was simply trying to punish her for being, in his words, “sick.” As if he replaced the disappointment of unmet expectations with control. As if control were a form of protection.

“For God’s sake, Malcolm! She’s not committing a crime!”

Emilia stepped in. It was always like that. They always found a way to argue about something. Always a way to argue about Lottie. Malcolm simply stood from the table and walked out, visibly irritated. Surprising, even. Lottie had been expecting them to start shouting.

Natalie tried calling the hospital. Tried calling her mom once or twice, but no one answered—or, if they did, they hung up the moment they heard her voice. That old bitch barely cared about anything. She only cared about the booze and about herself.

For a second, Nat wished she were dead. Maybe she’d been wishing that for longer than she was willing to admit—and without feeling a shred of guilt. Because maybe that was the only way she’d finally be free. Free from the woman, but also free from the twisted sense of compassion she still carried.

A cursed attachment that, no matter how hard she tried to rip out, was rooted inside her like a plague. A weed born from imaginary affection, infested with bad memories spinning in her head… but still managing to squeeze her heart.

“What are you gonna do now?”

Van asked, taking a sip of soda mixed with energy drink and vodka. This was their thing—mixing drinks, talking about music, movies, games, and, well… obviously, problems. It was the space where Natalie could actually vent. Because Kevin and Van knew that other side of her life. They lived through it with her. When there was no record store, no vinyl, no nothing. Just a desperate Nat, kicked out of her house by a shitty mom who still blamed her for the death of a father who might as well have been the reincarnation of the devil himself.

“I don’t know, Van… maybe just pay the fucking hospital bill.”

Natalie answered, part defensive, part offensive. Always a little too blunt to let her feelings settle or show. Kevin just watched, calm. Too patient. His face resting on his hand like he was studying her. Like he had nothing to say—or maybe too much, but was waiting for the right moment. Natalie never really knew.

“Ever thought about asking your rich-as-hell girlfriend for help?”

Van said, a little indignant. Maybe because she saw Lottie’s side of things. Or maybe because she’d been with Tai long enough to understand how hard it is not to trust the person you’re with. And Nat felt a little judged. A little too selfish for not being able to tell the truth. And the worst part: she didn’t even know how to.

“Wait, girlfriend?”

Kevin asked, kind of lost in the conversation. Nat smirked. She’d been so caught up between Lottie and the store she hadn’t even had time to sit down and catch him up—even though they still hung out all the time, or ate lunch together every day at school, like always.

“Oh, right… I hadn’t gotten to that part with him yet.”

She rolled her eyes like it was obvious. And also like she already knew what the reaction would be.

“Lottie and I are dating.”

Straight to the point. Like a heads-up. The kind of news the group had probably been waiting for ages to hear anyway. Kevin went silent for a second, caught somewhere between disbelief and a surprised laugh. Like he didn’t know whether to laugh, celebrate, or scream.

“No fucking way…”

After several minutes of updating Kevin about her relationship with Lottie, Natalie finally got back to the main topic — a half-ironic vent about her own feelings.

The next morning, Kevin and Nat walked to the bus stop like they did every day. They rolled their cigarettes, lit one for each other. It felt like a normal, quiet morning — but lately, life seemed determined to throw something in their path just to mess with them. And there they were: Richie and Marco Stephen. Like a badly interpreted déjà vu. A routine scene, one that happened all the time.

So often that they didn’t even care anymore. They just ignored the bullies, like the sound of traffic — annoying but predictable. The problem was, this time, they actually seemed eager to cause trouble. They got out of their car, grabbed Kevin and Nat’s backpacks and started dumping everything on the ground, rummaging through their stuff until they found something worth taking.

On a regular day, there wouldn’t be much. Just a little weed. The difference now was they’d just pulled an all-nighter at a party, selling drinks, working the bar, and pocketing some tips. The pills Kevin had stolen from his dad to keep them awake seemed to be doing their job. Natalie wasn’t even tired — she was more alert than ever.

And those assholes… those absolute assholes took her money. Money they didn’t need. Because they already had more than enough.

Natalie tried to get it back, but it was hard when they looked like they’d walked straight out of a bad comedy movie — dumb jocks who lost brain cells with every pound of muscle they gained.

They were at that point where they didn’t even know whether to snap, laugh, cry, or just stand there — frozen, overwhelmed with pure frustration. Natalie kicked the nearby trash can — not hard enough to knock it over, but enough to dent the old rusted metal. She felt a suffocating mix of anger and helplessness, pacing in circles as they waited for the bus.

But one thing was certain: she would get revenge.

And the way they’d do it was sitting perfectly still in the school parking lot.

Without much fuss, they let the air out of the car’s tires. Then, with the tip of a pocketknife, they scratched the paint in rough, angry lines — slow and steady, before the first class even started.

Everything turned out fine for Lottie, despite the initial outrage from patriarch Matthews — who, by some miracle, was talked down by Emilia before he could launch into yet another unnecessary lecture. Lottie’s mother had always been a balancing force between the two of them, even if, most of the time, they barely understood each other. But still, she tried. On one hand, she managed to convince Malcolm to let it go. On the other, she gently pushed Lottie to take back control of things.

And that was that. The next day, Lottie was having breakfast with them, heading to school with Laura Lee, doing the same things as always.

“I think Nat’s hiding something from me,”

Matthews said during a hallway chat with Jackie and Shauna.

In a way, it was a relief that they now knew she and Nat were actually dating. Sometimes it was hard not to share your doubts with someone. After all, Lottie had never been in anything like this before. Everything was new — all the feelings, the sweet moments… and, well, the ones that weighed heavy on her chest too.

“What makes you think that?”

Shauna asked with a sigh that might’ve sounded bored to anyone who didn’t know her. But Lottie knew. She could tell that beneath the aloof exterior, Shauna was paying close attention.

Jackie, on the other hand, stayed alert as always — proactive, genuinely listening.

“I don’t know… it’s just a feeling.”

Lottie muttered, brushing her hand along her neck — the way you do when you’re saying something you’d rather not think about, even though it’s been gnawing at you quietly.

The conversation soon drifted to what usually brought them together: the trip they were planning to Prague over break. It was an old plan. They talked about weekends, silly things — the kind of problems only eighteen-year-old girls really care about. Nothing more.

She only found Natalie after lunch, and the blonde girl pulled her into a more secluded part of the school — a hidden spot barely anyone knew about. It was like Nat had mapped out every inch of that building and picked out, one by one, potential hideouts. They sat at the base of a massive tree that looked older than both of them combined. The patch of grass around them was small, and although there were a few crushed beer cans and cigarette butts scattered on the ground, the place still felt untouched. Less frequented. Hidden from the world.

Natalie lay on Lottie’s chest while the girl gently ran her fingers through her hair in silence. They were sitting in an awkward but oddly comfortable position — the kind only people who really cared for each other could manage.

“Nat…”

Lottie called softly, trying to be careful. Her voice wasn’t accusatory — it was an attempt. Like someone trying to open space for a serious conversation without making everything fall apart.

“Please, Lawttie, let’s not do this again,”

Nat mumbled, as if she already knew exactly where this was going. She was using affection as a shield, a distraction — an old and familiar strategy.

Lottie sighed. Her chest tightened.

“I’m worried, Nat.”

It came out as a whisper. Calm, but heavy. Almost a plea. It wasn’t just a hunch — it was a pain, a lingering vibration at the back of her mind, like a sixth sense she’d never asked for but couldn’t ignore.

“I know… but… can we talk about it later? I’m so fucking tired.”

The blonde’s voice was low, lazy, and yet weighed down by exhaustion. She snuggled even closer to the taller girl, as if she could disappear right there.

Matthews gave in. She wanted to push, to understand — but she just couldn’t. Instead, she pressed a quick kiss to Natalie’s lips and kept running her fingers gently down her back, letting her rest. Even if it was just for a little while.

Natalie knew she was doing everything wrong. She knew the right thing would be to just sit down with Lottie and talk. Say it. Not because the girl was pressuring her — Lottie never did that — but so she would worry less about everything… or at least, worry with a reason. Because Scartoccio knew that not knowing the reason for something can eat a person alive way more than the actual problem ever could.

And she knew Lottie cared. In her own way. And honestly, it was a way Natalie particularly liked, because it wasn’t suffocating. She wasn’t being forced to talk, even if everything happening made it feel that way. It was just confusing. And, in a way, painful — like a knot in her throat that wouldn’t loosen, like a word that never found its way out.

She wanted to tell her. She wanted to open up to Lottie. But she didn’t feel ready. And she kept wondering when the right time would come, but no moment ever felt right. So she froze. She just froze.

“You fucking bitch…”

Richie’s annoying voice echoed through the hallway. Fuck — was the first thing that flashed through Natalie’s mind, like a reflex, triggering a sharp urgency in her chest. She gripped the strap of her backpack tighter and sped up. Then she ran. Because the boys were getting closer.

The problem was, there was no one in the hallways. No one at all. Everyone seemed to be in class, and the world was conspiring against Nat with every passing second. Speed-walking didn’t cut it — she started running. And honestly, she might as well have tried to outrun the whole damn world, because there were at least five guys after her, practically that asshole’s personal bodyguards.

She managed to shake a few off, slipping between corridors, but of course… the world had been against her since the first second of that cursed day.

It didn’t take long before someone yanked her hard, slamming her against the wall. A massive hand clamped around her throat.

“You fucking bitch, what the fuck did you do to my car?!”

The guy’s face — tall, dumb — was red with rage, his ridiculously blue eyes boring into hers with fury. His unkempt eyebrows merged into a scowl, and his sweaty, messy hair clung to his forehead. He was even uglier up close. Like an ogre. A brainless ogre, despite the size.

Nat couldn’t breathe. And even if she could, the only thing she’d say would be a good old “fuck you.” But his grip kept tightening. Her breath came in gasps. Her throat burned. Her vision started to blur.

Until she spat in his face and kicked him square in the balls.

And that was enough for the bastard to let go.

She collapsed onto the ground, breathless, struggling to recover. Her vision blurred, her lungs burning with desperate need — as if her body was begging for oxygen while her soul had already given up.

But maybe it was that very need that cursed Nat, because what came next was worse.

Her face was slammed against the pavement — a sharp crack as her forehead hit the concrete — and something warm began to trickle down her skin. A sharp pain erased her vision for a few seconds, leaving only a high-pitched ring in her ears. Everything disappeared. Sound, time, the world. Nothing outside mattered. There was only pain.

And then more. A hard kick to her ribs made her cough. The taste of iron flooded her mouth. Blood. She tried to get up, but it was useless. She felt expensive shoes — designer, probably — crush her hand. The scream didn’t come out, but the pain exploded inside her, like her bones had been shattered in silence.

Blood ran from her nose and forehead. Her skin burned. Her head throbbed.

She heard distant voices. One of them called Richie’s name. “You went too far, man.” Another said it was only supposed to be a scare. Then they left.

And Natalie stayed there. Alone. Dizzy. In pain. Bleeding.

Matthews was in the middle of class when Kevin Tan showed up out of nowhere, looking strangely serious, asking the teacher if he could talk to Lottie. She felt a sudden weight press against her chest — a real, suffocating dread — but she simply nodded and followed Kevin, who said nothing until they reached the parking lot.

And that’s when she saw it.

Natalie was leaning against the car, completely beaten. Her face was still smeared with blood, cleaned up hastily, and she was clutching her side tightly, like she was trying to hold herself together. Lottie rushed over, alarm blazing through her body like a live wire with no place to ground.

“What happened?”

She asked Kevin, while helping Nat into the car, gently lowering the seat to make her more comfortable.

“Fucking Richie beat the shit out of her. That asshole mugged us this morning.”

Kevin replied, his voice laced with fury, clearly leaving out the second half of the story — the revenge.

Lottie felt her worry ignite into something hotter — something red and blinding and furious.

“Stay with her until I get back.”

She handed Kevin the car keys without a second thought, ignoring Nat’s groggy complaints about him calling her in the first place. If she listened, she’d only get angrier. She stormed across the school grounds, her steps sharp, her destination clear: the football field. She knew Richie would be there, probably finishing practice.

And he was.

When he saw her, he pulled off his helmet and smiled like an idiot — a sweaty, disgusting pig — which only fed the nausea and rage boiling inside Lottie. He jogged toward her like he was some rom-com jock boyfriend. She wanted to vomit.

But the smile disappeared the moment her slap cracked across his face, loud and sharp, right in front of his entire team. A public humiliation she savored.

She grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him close over those ridiculous shoulder pads.

“Touch Natalie again and I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

She didn’t even know who was speaking through her — or maybe the feeling was just that strong, it transformed her into someone unrecognizable. She spat in his face and turned her back without a moment’s hesitation.

She had another pain in the ass to deal with now — only this time, it was someone she loved more than anything.

“Agh, Lottie, that hurts.”

Natalie complained as Lottie tried to clean the cut on her brow. It was open, though not deep enough to need stitches. Still, Lottie couldn’t stop worrying. The bruise on her ribs was worse—purple, swollen, a brutal contrast against Nat’s pale skin. She thought there might be a fracture, but felt a small wave of relief when she noticed Nat wasn’t having trouble breathing.

Even so, the worry stuck to her like glue.

Lottie didn’t say anything while Natalie groaned in pain. She just kept going, focused, cleaning the wounds with all the care she could summon. Every gesture held a dose of tenderness—in the way she dabbed with the cotton, the way she held her hand, the way she adjusted the bandage like she was handling something precious.

There was a quiet, almost desperate affection in it.

Lottie had completely forgotten about all her responsibilities with her father. She knew Natalie needed her more than he did right now. She’d deal with it later—maybe ask Jackie to call and say she was sleeping over to study, or at some kind of slumber party. They’d probably care less if it sounded like that.

But right now, there was no space in Lottie’s mind for any of that.

She was fully occupied by Natalie Scartoccio.

“Okay… we need to talk.”

Natalie could hear it in Lottie’s voice—something had shifted. It wasn’t calm anymore—it was impatience, it was frustration. And part of her understood, of course. But the other part recoiled… and went into defense mode. Only Nat’s defense was different from Lottie’s. Lottie shut down, protected herself in silence.

Nat, when cornered, lashed out.

“About what?”

She said it too fast to sound genuinely curious. It came off more like: “there’s nothing we need to talk about,” just dressed in different words.

“About what? About what, Natalie?!”

Matthews repeated, incredulous, with a flash of disbelief on her face. She stood up from the chair she’d been sitting in, arms crossed, pacing across the room like she was trying to breathe deep enough not to explode.

“How about… the fact that I’m worried sick about you, and you won’t tell me anything?! Jesus, babe… you’re overworking yourself, you always look exhausted, and now this—bruised all over? Nat…”

It came out fast. The words escaped like they’d broken loose—too expressive for someone usually so careful, so measured, so afraid to cross a line. But not this time.

Natalie bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t need this talk. Not now. Not when her whole body hurt just to breathe.

“You don’t need to worry…”

She rolled her eyes, trying to push it all away. But Lottie didn’t back down. Not this time.

“Of course I do, Natalie! I’m your girlfriend, of course I worry about you!”

Her voice rose—not to the point of yelling, but with a kind of raw intensity that cut through the air.

Lottie could be elegant even in anger, which somehow only made Natalie more uncomfortable—like that sharp, composed tone was a kind of pressure she didn’t know how to handle.

“I’m fine, Lottie.”

She snapped back, voice sharp.

“No. You’re not. And goddammit, Nat… I worry about you not just because I’m your girlfriend… But because I love you.”

Those words dropped like a stone into the middle of everything—rippling, shaking, breaking the fight apart from within.

Natalie felt it.

Her whole body did.

Her brows furrowed. Her green eyes narrowed, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard it right—shocked, warm, and filled with something she didn’t know how to name.

“You love me?”

She asked softly, like the words were too big to believe.

The argument vanished in that moment.

“Of course I love you.”

Lottie’s voice was soft again. Steady now. Solid—like a truth that didn’t need to be defended.

And that certainty cut through Natalie in a way nothing else could.

She swallowed hard, the knot in her throat finally loosening. Something inside her gave way—like a lock had turned on its own. Still hard, but a little less suffocating.

“I… I’ve been dealing with some stuff.”

She closed her eyes for a second, letting the weight of the confession settle.

Her hands were fidgeting in her lap, thumbs circling over the bandaged palm.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Her voice was quiet, embarrassed. Like it was taking all her strength just to get the words out. 

But the last part came lighter. Almost tender. Laced with a kind of fragile but unmistakable warmth.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Lottie stayed with Nat for days, always coming up with one excuse or another for her parents. She even got Laura Lee involved, asking her friend to lie and say they were on a spiritual retreat together that week. It was hard to convince Laura Lee, but Lottie managed it, saying it was for a good cause. She explained that she needed to take care of Natalie and, well, by that point, everyone already knew the blonde girl was completely wrecked. Practice had been put on hold for now, and every now and then they’d try out a new winger or forward to cover for Nat’s absence. She missed a full week of school.

The morning after the fight, Lottie woke up tangled around her. She was always very careful not to hurt her girlfriend’s ribs during the night, and sometimes she’d hear her whimper in pain in the middle of the night. She often complained that Nat never asked for help in those moments, and usually got up to grab some painkillers and soothe her with kisses while the meds kicked in. Scatorccio complained most of the time — her busted lips didn’t allow Lottie to kiss her properly, so they settled for soft pecks and quick nibbles.

“You’re good at this,”

Nat said in a whisper, a little shy. A smile on her face to hide the pain, as Lottie cleaned her bruise. It still looked terrible — some parts were purple, others green, stark against her pale skin. It was the kind of injury that had to be treated little by little. Lottie applied hot and cold compresses with an almost devotional care, trying not to hurt her more than she helped. She gave a faint smile when Nat said that.

“I was born to be a nurse for dumbasses,”

She replied, laughing and shaking her head, her soft brown eyes focused and gentle.

Nat looked at her with mock indignation, like she was offended at being called a dumbass.

“But you love me,”

She said playfully, as if reminding Lottie — again — of her confession the day before. The blonde girl looked fulfilled, though she wouldn’t say it out loud — even if her sarcastic smile blended into a unique, contemplative kind of tenderness that only she could pull off.

Lottie rolled her eyes, just for the drama.

“Don’t let it go to your head,”

She joked, keeping the tone, making Nat laugh through her nose, a kind of laugh that came with a relaxation that was still painful. The water compress was calming her down.

“But seriously? Who would’ve thought that the girl everyone wants — including all those football jerks — would end up with a fucking loser like me? Let me gloat a little,”

She admitted, still in that joking tone that said: I know I’m overdoing the sentimentality, so I’ll hide how overflowing with affection I am behind a dumb joke and some teasing.

“Shut up,”

Lottie said with a grin, trying to focus on what she was doing.

She loved those brown eyes. The ones that looked at her with so much tenderness she felt incapable of doubting anything. Nat had always been wary of good feelings — not in a completely apathetic way, but maybe just too suspicious when people looked at her like that. She never let herself be loved in that way, without any suspicion of what might end, of what might hurt, of what might only be good just to turn bad later.

But it wasn’t like that with Lottie — and that was good, even if confusing. It made her afraid, but it was a different kind of fear. A fear of not deserving all that affection, of not deserving such careful brown eyes, looking at her with such devotion. It was funny, weird as hell, because she had always been the devoted one, the one who pulled the rope, who held on.

But with Lottie, things felt balanced. They were both deities. They both deserved devotion. They both took care. They both pulled the rope for each other, and they both held on. And Lottie was there, constantly reminding Nat that she too deserved to rest. That she deserved peace and tenderness, even all bruised, even being a troublemaker. That she deserved a place where she could be broken, where she could be sensitive and still whole at the same time.

They were calmer now. That damn scare had passed — even if the pain still haunted her now and then. And the painkillers made her sleepy; sometimes she’d sleep the whole day away on Lottie’s chest, who would wake her to eat, help her shower, help her get dressed. Who kissed her when she complained about feeling like some useless old man. When she grumbled, asking her girlfriend to stop treating her like she needed that much care, Lottie would always shoot her an annoyed look and say, firmly, ending the conversation:

“But you do!!!”

Nat knew she was tired. She knew taking care of her was like looking after some damn bedridden person. Sometimes she’d try to get up and help in the kitchen, try to dress herself, but she always struggled with the fucking shirt.

And Lottie was that place. Lottie had become that temple. The temple Nat went to when she needed something to hold on to, like the faithful who desperately seek their gods.

They were calmer now. Nat was curled up on Lottie’s chest, hugging her like a koala and threatening to kill her if she ever told anyone how clingy she could be. Lottie just laughed, stroking her blonde hair gently — and her back too, carefully, because there were still a few scratches there. She couldn’t stop feeling at least a little helpless, because if she’d gone with Nat after they left the bleachers, maybe her girlfriend wouldn’t be so hurt now.

“What are you thinking about?”

Nat asked in a murmur, almost as if she could hear Matthews’ thoughts echoing too loudly in her head.

Lottie just sighed and kissed the top of her girlfriend’s forehead, caressing her face like she was handling something precious. A gesture almost childish, too pure not to be completely sincere.

“I’m thinking about how to help you.”

She said it with a sigh. It wasn’t everything she was feeling or thinking, but it was something — and, in any case, maybe it was the most important thing right now.

Nat let out a heavy sigh, as if Lottie had touched on a subject she really didn’t want to talk about. She looked comfortable, wrapped in the silence of forgetting. She had, of course, told Lottie what was going on with her mom — the whole hospital thing, the situation with Richie, and all her problems. But she had tried to be as emotionless as possible. And Lottie noticed that — maybe in the way she told it fast, direct… But not the usual Nat kind of direct. It was the dry kind. The sharp kind. The kind of words that don’t want to feel, so they just swallow everything down.

“We already talked about this,”

She grumbled, feigning that kind of familiar pout that meant: I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m emotionally manipulating you into melting and just kissing me instead.

But it didn’t work. Not this time. Lottie was already starting to recognize the pattern.

The brown-haired girl gently inhaled the scent of her girlfriend’s hair, affectionate, discreet. She kissed the top of her head and said, between a soft laugh:

“No, we didn’t talk.”

Nat let out a heavy sigh. The kind that comes from impatience. A clear sign that she definitely didn’t want to talk about it. But one thing Matthews had learned was that she would have to insist. Nat was still guarded, despite everything. She still withdrew and attacked as a form of raw defense — like a wounded dog that bites when it’s afraid. And an “I love you” wasn’t going to change that. Maybe with time, but not all of a sudden.

The bindings had loosened. Lottie had taken one step toward Nat — but it wasn’t everything. She knew that. There were layers upon layers. Layers Nat didn’t let anyone reach, not even her. But there was no way to guess the password without trying.

“Love, I just want to help you. You don’t have to open up emotionally if you don’t want to. I don’t need to know everything that happened. Just let me find a way to bring you a little peace.”

She said it gently, like someone trying — someone staying close to the edge. It felt like the first time she was really saying something out loud that she meant. Not just looking at Nat and hoping she’d understand — even though she probably did. Even though she could read Lottie’s heart as well as she read her own. Even though the thread that tied Lottie together was the same that tied her.

But she wanted to say it. She needed to make it clear. Right now, she was saying another “I love you” — just with different words. She was saying I want to stay here — and not just staying. She was offering certainty, and waiting for Nat to receive it.

“I don’t want your money!”

It took Nat a moment to respond. Her voice was sharp, but also shaky. Afraid. As if that was what she thought Lottie was offering. She seemed offended.

Matthews turned to her carefully, lying on her side, locking eyes — their noses and mouths close.

“I’m not offering you my money,” she said. “I’m offering you support.”

Nat kissed her. And Lottie didn’t know if that kiss was just her way of shutting her up, or if it was Nat accepting her help. But it was a tender and urgent kiss — not like someone pushing away, but like someone pulling in, even if they couldn’t fully receive what was being offered.

Nat took a sharp breath — she was in pain from the way she was lying, from the aching muscles, her bruised jaw. But she didn’t give a damn about any of it. She wanted her girlfriend. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to ease a longing she didn’t even know was there. She wanted to be close, to offer love, tenderness, to kiss her with all the devotion she carried.

Because that’s what she was.

Lottie was the goddess, and Nat her faithful.

Lottie was the queen, and Nat the servant.

Lottie was the muse, and Nat the poor man begging for inspiration.

Lottie was the fucking church, and Nat was the fucking priest.

It was a slow kiss and yet a hungry one — the kind that wants to claim the other, to leave something behind, to truly mark. To explore every corner of the mouth and savor it like someone dying of thirst stumbling upon water in the desert.

She was between her legs, bruised hands, her weight pressing down on Lottie, her body gasping for air — but the desire stayed, stubborn, kissing. Nat sighed as her lips moved down to Lottie’s neck, then paused to look her in the eyes. She gently caressed her face, pushing the hair away with care.

“I want you,” she whispered, fingertips brushing her cheek slowly.

She adored that face. Those eyes. That smile. That annoyingly small nose. She loved the teeth, the canines. She loved the tiny marks, the scar on her forehead hidden by bangs.

Lottie laughed and said, like she was remembering:

“You’re all banged up.”

She spoke in a whisper, lovingly, caressing Nat’s arm.

Scatorccio smirked — that kind of smile that pulls at the lips with a touch of sarcasm dripping from the tone and the curve of her mouth.

“Then don’t move too much.”

Lottie just smiled — amused, tender — like someone who doesn’t know how to say no. And also like someone who doesn’t want to, which is why she can’t. Nat kissed her neck, nibbling gently, making her laugh.

“Nat…” she said through the laughter, wrapping her arms gently around the shorter girl’s body.

But then they kissed. Slowly. They had time.

Lottie took off Nat’s shirt. Then she took off her own. They did it with reverence, with tenderness — more tenderness than ever before. As if now it was different. And not just because Nat was hurt, but because Lottie had told her she loved her — and this was how she showed it. In gestures. In touches. Nat felt it. And for the first time, she allowed herself to be carried by it.

When they were done, Nat lay beside her again. Sweaty, smiling, watching her girlfriend tremble beside her. She pulled Lottie close to her chest, holding her, caressing her gently as she slowly came back — less breathless, less overstimulated. Nat kissed her forehead, running her fingers through the bangs stuck to her damp skin.

They just stayed there, lying in silence, exchanging soft touches, breathing together. Lottie had her eyes closed, following the rhythm of Nat’s chest rising and falling. Until suddenly, something shifted — a sharp jolt, then a sob, a sniffle, a sudden, brutal cry, a pain exposed that hit Lottie instantly. She lifted her head and looked at her girlfriend: swollen green eyes, wide, with tears streaming down her chest, a torn-up kind of pain that had come out of nowhere.

“Did I hurt you?”

She asked, alarmed, sitting up in bed, scanning the blonde’s bruises in panic, trying to understand. But Nat didn’t say anything — she just cried, sobbed desperately, like she was spiraling. She covered her face with her hands, ashamed, like it was something she didn’t want seen. It felt like something long held in, a hidden grief that had finally overflowed.

“Baby, are you in pain? Did I hurt you? I knew we shouldn’t have had sex…”

Lottie asked again, distressed, guilt rising in her chest for having let herself give in. But Nat shook her head, no — it wasn’t pain. At least, not physical. Lottie felt helpless, unable to reach her, because her girlfriend couldn’t speak, could only cry, sobbing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath.

She recognized the panic attack and pulled her into her arms. She stroked her back, held her as tightly as she could, and didn’t ask anything else — not until Nat had calmed down.

The crying calmed down slowly, with Lottie stroking her hair, soothing her patiently until she was a little more at ease. But even then, the tears didn’t stop — Nat tried to hold back, but the crying was stronger than her, even when it was soft. It was like her body had learned to collapse on its own, even when her mind tried to resist. Lottie gently rubbed her chest, pressed her palm over her heart, and Nat placed her hand over it — like she was holding the weight of the world, like she was trying to keep her chest closed, to contain the pain spilling out from the edges.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

She asked in a low voice, the kind spoken when you’re afraid of breaking something too delicate. Still offering the same soft care, still trying to help, without pressure, without force. She kissed her face, her temple, wiped away the tears with trembling fingers. Nat’s whole body was shaking — not like someone who’s cold, but like someone who’s scared. She curled into herself like a defenseless animal, and Lottie’s heart ached deep in her chest — the kind of ache that almost burns.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

The blonde said it like a confession, raw and heavy, choked out suddenly — like something that had built up over years. Her voice cracked, caught in her throat. A pain in Nat’s chest that echoed into Lottie’s just from watching her like that — wilted, exposed, so small against the world.

“I’m scared of letting you into my life completely and…”

It was sharp, broken, halting. A sentence that shattered halfway through. A pain that seemed to come out of nowhere, from deep inside, like she couldn’t hold anything in anymore. Like she was revealing a dirty secret, an unforgivable weakness.

“…and then something happens.”

Her voice almost disappeared. A desperate whisper, as if naming it would make it too real.

And in that moment — maybe only in that moment — Lottie understood completely. Nat wasn’t pushing her away or closing herself off from her… Nat was protecting herself from her own pain. Hiding inside her own body, from memories, from fears she didn’t even know how to name yet. It wasn’t rejection — it was survival.

She kissed her temple as the sobs began to settle. Now, a different kind of feeling filled the room — and Nat’s chest. Shame. Exposure. A strange, warm tightness that clutched at her throat and made her eyes look away. She was never like this. She was always tough. Always the troublemaker girl with affection issues who never cried — not when her dad hit her, not when she went to bed hungry, not even when she got beat up at school. And now… now she was here. Crying in Lottie Matthews’s arms. Admitting she was scared Lottie might leave. Like she needed her just to breathe.

She hated herself for that. For breaking so suddenly. For opening up just when her walls wanted to slam shut. She hated herself for letting it spill, for letting Lottie see. But then… then she looked at Lottie.

Those calm eyes. Those hands still resting over her chest. That gaze with no judgment, only presence. Like someone who not only understands, but who receives. And that was devastating. A violent kind of comfort. It almost made Nat cry all over again. Because it was hard. Because it was rare. Because she didn’t know what to do with it.

So she wanted to disappear.

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

Lottie said it in a whisper. But it wasn’t fragile — it was steady. Like a promise. Like something certain, as if she could will it into truth just by speaking it. And maybe… maybe she could. Maybe there was something sacred in that sentence. Something Nat, deep down, wanted to believe in.

The next day dawned — a little cold, but warm thanks to touch. Lottie sighed. There was a weight in her chest… but it was a good weight. Warm breath on her neck, and Nat with her whole face buried in the curve of her shoulder, like someone trying to hide from the world just to find a bit of peace.

The weight of the day before still lingered. Nat’s eyes were still puffy, despite the peaceful appearance she wore now. Lottie stroked her back — freckled and soft — under the oversized shirt she was wearing. She traced gentle patterns, reverently, hearing her sigh like she recognized the touch even in deep sleep.

She looked to the side. The clock on the small shelf read six a.m. Still early, and Nat would have all the time she needed with Lottie right there beside her. Because that’s what she would do. She’d deal with the consequences later. But for now… she would be here. Present. For Nat. Because it felt like the most important thing in the world.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Nat said after a while, her voice sleepy, husky, but laced with that unmistakable sarcasm that was all hers. Matthews had been so lost in thought she hadn’t even noticed Nat waking up — even though she was still right there, her nose pressed against Lottie’s neck, brushing the tip against her skin and sending chills up her spine.

“Mornin’…”

She replied with a lazy smile on her face, leaning in to peck the blonde’s lips, who still kept her eyes closed — as if she had some kind of sensitivity to light, even though the room was still partially dark.

“What’s the plan for today?”

Nat asked, moving her hand to Lottie’s waist, sliding up the shirt she was wearing, caressing her skin down to her bare thigh, and then slowly making her way back. The touch was light, familiar, intimate.

“For you? Rest and painkillers.”

Lottie said with a little giggle, as if already expecting Nat to protest. But surprisingly, the girl just let out a murmur she didn’t quite catch — an impatient grumble. Her hands kept moving over Lottie’s skin, dragging short nails slowly, back and forth from her thighs, playing with her waist, like someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

“I see where those silly hands of yours are going…”

She whispered, when Nat started toying with the waistband of her panties — not pulling them down, just running her fingers along, then back to her skin, slowly teasing. Nat only laughed, like a mischievous kid who knew she was up to no good. The brunette glanced at her with one eyebrow raised, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You seem surprisingly awake now…”

Lottie noted, half-suspicious, while Nat’s fingers trailed up and down her sides with tender ease.

“Just remembered there’s a really hot woman in my bed.”

The blonde teased, grinning with that crooked smile — the one that always spelled trouble. And Lottie felt cherished, desired. Even though she was the one doing the caring, she felt cared for too, wrapped up in that playful, cheeky, yet somehow devoted energy.

“Babe…”

She murmured between kisses, between roaming hands and the other kind — the kind that threatened to cross the line of what was still under control. Nat looked at her, dramatically, in her usual way — exaggerated, theatrical, and completely adorable.

“You’re really gonna deny love to your sick girlfriend?”

She said it in the most over-the-top tone, making Lottie roll her eyes and let out a soft laugh, because it was all so Nat… it hurt, in that sweet way familiarity sometimes does. It was the kind of thing only she would say, with that kind of emotional safety that comes from knowing — deeply — that you’re loved.

“Oh my God… you’re turning into a manipulator, you know that?”

Lottie said with a playful grin, caressing the shorter girl’s face, brushing the messy hair from her forehead. She loved seeing that sharp smile, those green eyes shining with that wicked look that was so uniquely hers.

“You love it.”

Scarcoccio answered like she’d had the line ready on the tip of her tongue — and Lottie just pulled her in for a kiss. A real one. One of those slow, lingering kisses, the kind that invites the tongue… and a hand between her legs.

Nat slid beneath her panties and simply pushed inside her, touching her with tenderness and intent. She leaned over her girlfriend’s body, exploring her with intimacy, with precision, hitting every right spot — making Lottie squirm under the sheets, moan softly, needy, her sounds muffled by kisses.

It was slow. It was sweet. It was love.

Not just desire.

It was love.

Lottie woke up later to the sound coming from the kitchen. She had fallen asleep right after Nat made her come for the second time — and she still felt her body a bit shaky from it. Her legs were sore in that way that was both pleasure and discomfort at once. Or maybe… maybe it was absence.

She lifted her head, groggy, running her hand along the side of the bed only to realize her girlfriend wasn’t there anymore. She groaned softly. This was what she got for dating an annoying person who didn’t know how to follow rules and always acted angry when given orders…

She sighed and got out of bed. She already knew who was making the noise in the kitchen, but she didn’t want to start another argument — she just wanted to see what was going on. And there was Nat, of course, fighting with the pans and making breakfast for the two of them like she was perfectly fine.

“What happened to ‘rest and painkillers’?”

She asked as she reached the doorway, leaning against it. She was wearing one of Nat’s shirts — one of those three-times-too-big ones — which, on Lottie, hung a little shorter, revealing the red panties underneath.

Nat paused for a second. She needed to hold onto that image a little longer — maybe even immortalize it. She had just woken up, and it was already one of her favorite memories: her girlfriend grumpy, arms half-crossed, hair a mess, legs on full display, far too beautiful with that annoyed look on her face. Lottie was irresistible like that — in a shirt and panties, freshly awake, still a little sleepy and just a bit outraged that Nat had decided to make breakfast.

She was so hers. So completely hers that, for a moment, Nat almost felt grateful for getting hurt — because now she had her girl all to herself for a whole week. Waking up like this: with sex, with laughter, with a beautifully annoyed Lottie standing at her kitchen door.

“I’m hurt, Lawttie, not dead.”

She rolled her eyes, silently asking Matthews to understand. Nat knew Lottie cared — she knew that. But excessive concern and overprotectiveness always made her uncomfortable. Maybe because she wasn’t used to it. Maybe because she still needed time to process things, to get familiar with the act of being loved.

Not that she didn’t like it. Not that she didn’t need clingy moments sometimes, kisses and soft touches. Because the truth was, Nat was secretly clingy. She liked all that closeness, the kissing, the caretaking. And even if she’d never say it out loud, she liked being taken care of too. She liked the cheesy sweetness of being treated gently.

Still, it felt strange. Because now she was receiving just as much as she gave — and that was scary. And good. And maybe that’s why it was so terrifying. But she was learning, somehow. Trying. Trying, as always, to remind herself that she wasn’t just made of trauma. Or at least… trying not to be.

“Okay… let me help you.”

Lottie sighed, giving in, stepping away from the doorway and walking toward her. Nat pressed a kiss to her chest in silent thanks, and the two of them just cooked there — like they did it all the time, even though it was their first.

As if the cramped kitchen wasn’t an issue at all, even when they bumped into each other.

But they laughed. Kissed. And then returned to the dance they’d created in that space, intuitively — just to avoid colliding again.

On the third day, a few friends came by to see her. Nothing unusual — just Kevin and Van, sometimes Tai. They smoked something, ate pizza, and made small talk. And well, Lottie kept her away from the drinks with one excuse or another: that the painkillers would stop working if she drank. And honestly, it wasn’t even that bad anymore — the wounds were scabbing over, and the rib barely hurt, though it was still bruised and purple.

Everything was fine. Everyone was laughing. Nat was sitting between Lottie’s legs, resting against her chest while Lottie held her from behind, her head gently leaning on Nat’s shoulder, offering some quiet support. It was Van who brought it up — that damn redhead was reminding Lottie of something Nat desperately wanted her to forget.

“I offered help, but she doesn’t want it.”

Lottie said, defeated, after Van threw a few questions Nat’s way. The girl kept dodging them, throwing sharp little jokes here and there as a way out — but Van seemed determined to solve the matter.

“Yeah, because I don’t fucking need a sugar mommy.”

Nat rolled her eyes for the fifth time during that conversation. Her voice came out bitter, half-cutting, half-sarcastic — in complete contrast to the way she sat so comfortably in Lottie’s lap.

“Hey… hey… chill, dog. No one here is saying you need that.”

Van replied with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. She paused for a moment, then added:

“Lottie could just lend you the money, and you can pay her back little by little, without killing yourself over it.”

The redhead suggested, making Lottie glance at Nat expectantly, flashing her best smile — like that might be enough to convince her, even though deep down she knew it wouldn’t be.

It took two days for Nat to bring it up — this time, on her own. She had received a phone call that morning. A voice Lottie didn’t recognize, but it was clearly a woman. She guessed it was Nat’s mother, judging by the crease that formed between her eyebrows — something between anger and sorrow. She gripped the phone like she might snap it in half. Her face was hard; her jaw clenched — like maybe the thing that was about to break wasn’t the phone, but her.

Lottie didn’t ask anything. She just kept eating her breakfast, until Nat finally hung up and sat down next to her, kind of shaking — though Lottie couldn’t quite tell from what. Maybe anger. Maybe exhaustion. She simply leaned in and kissed Nat’s freckled shoulder. She didn’t say a word. Neither of them did. She just held space.

A week later, reality had settled back in. Lottie was back home. Nat had reopened the shop, but for shorter hours — she still had that damn injury on her side, which hurt like hell if she pushed herself too hard. Her girlfriend called almost every night, just to ask if she was okay and say that she missed her. And Nat would always reply, “You saw me this afternoon,” all while smiling like a complete idiot — like some foolish lovesick girl, the kind that would become immortal and descend into the underworld to bring her back if she died, even if it meant suffering for eternity for such a heresy.

She spent most of her time with Lottie, and once, Kevin and Nat even sat with Shauna, Laura Lee, and Jackie during lunch. It was strange, but not necessarily unpleasant — just unusual.

Between classes, they would sneak kisses, sometimes even in the bathroom or a janitor’s closet. And Lottie always tried — almost desperately — to wipe away the lipstick marks left on Nat’s pale skin.

Even though things were slowly getting back on track, there were two things Lottie would now have to deal with.

The first was the fact that she’d been impulsive — driven by anger and a protective instinct — and had slapped Richie in a rare moment of complete loss of control. Now, he looked at her as if she were a potential threat — even if he didn’t actually do anything. It wasn’t like she cared about the boy’s disdain. She was completely indifferent to that. What worried her was the single possibility that this might reach her father’s ears — who, unfortunately, was close friends with Richie’s dad. The very same man who happened to own the psychiatric clinic where Lottie was receiving treatment.

The second thing was: how to get the money to lend to Nat. And well, the problem wasn’t having it — she had more than enough. The problem was that her father kept an eye on every expense, even if just superficially. And if he happened to catch sight of such a large transaction, he’d ask questions. Not if it were for a purse — the last thing he’d care about was Lottie spending money on some frivolous thing that cost more than a car. But a hospital bill? That wouldn’t go unnoticed on his radar. Lazy, yes — but not sloppy. Because the last thing Lottie’s controlling father was… was sloppy.

She thought about withdrawing the money in cash, but that would be just as suspicious. She couldn’t just say she wanted to buy something — not when she could easily pay for it with her credit card. So, she was left with only one option: the safe in her father’s office. The one she sometimes stole a few dollars from — but only when it was really necessary. Like for Shauna’s birthday, when she’d taken some cash so they could rent a beach house. Her father never noticed. Or, at least, he never cared enough to count that messy pile of dollars.

Opening the safe wasn’t hard. It was like: type in the approximate net worth of the Matthews family and watch the magic happen. It also wasn’t complicated to take the money without being noticed — most of the time, her father wasn’t even home, and he barely used that office anyway. He only went in there when he wanted to smoke an expensive cigar and talk business with his entrepreneur buddies, like every cliché man in a movie.

He spent most of his days away — working, traveling, or just hanging out at the club — and only came home for dinner. The same dinners where he made such a big deal about Lottie being present.

“I feel like I’m picking up money from a loan shark, the way you’re handing it to me like this.”

Nat joked as they sat in the car at night, parked in front of the store — the whole vibe really did feel like they’d just committed a crime. And maybe Lottie had, though she felt no remorse about it.

They walked into the store in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. Content just being close — their breaths, shoulders brushing — while talking about their day, about the next practice… lips messy from kissing as they tried to say goodbye, even knowing they’d see each other the next day.

“Okay, I really have to go now.”

Lottie gave one last kiss to her girlfriend’s swollen lips. Nat walked her to the door. Lottie stepped out… and two seconds later, knocked again — just to steal another kiss when Nat opened it. Then she finally went home — before her father could start complaining about dinner again.

It didn’t hurt that much to accept Lottie’s help. It was easier to think of it as a big loan — that she was just returning to her girlfriend all the money her father stole from poor workers to build his empire and buy her expensive dresses.

She had to admit she felt a bit calmer, not having to work herself to death just to get rid of the guilt of still caring about that old woman who abandoned her — who kicked her out so easily. So easily, in fact, that Nat hated herself for not being able to kick her out of her own mind just as easily.

Maybe it was something about her instinct for loyalty, because it definitely wasn’t love. Love was the last thing she felt for that woman. Maybe it was contempt. But she was loyal to that contempt — like a dog that runs after the car even after its owner abandons it.

One thing about Natalie was that when she gave someone her loyalty, she served them like a full-on loyalist — even if she hated them deeply. Maybe that said more about her than about anyone else. Maybe it was her sharp sense of honesty, honed and precise, even if sometimes a little twisted. If she were any kind of hero, Nat would be the broken, grumpy, imperfect kind — but never unfair. Maybe the type with a heart as pure as it was dirty.

Everything fell into place. She paid the bill and sent a postcard telling that old woman to leave her alone — even though she knew that wouldn’t happen. It just took a headache, and the woman would remember she had a daughter.

“You’re really dating Lottie fucking Matthews.”

Kevin said with a cigarette between his lips, staring at the picture of Nat and Lottie hugging, pinned to the fridge door with a magnet. It had been there since Lottie gave it to her, but until then, it had seemed like just another one of the many photos she had with friends. Now, though, it was different.

Lottie had always been special somehow. Her photo had its own reserved space, where Natalie could see it every day. It wasn’t with the others — it had its own quiet little corner, a corner that was slowly starting to gather more and more.

“Yeah, I am.”

She replied with a sharp smile, though her body language was slightly awkward, casual, leaning against the sink. Like she couldn’t allow herself to be more in love than she already was — if that was even possible. Kevin just looked at her, pulled a beer from the fridge, handed her one too with the usual ease. He opened it like it was an automatic gesture and sat down at the little table beside them.

“This is like… fuck, man. Everybody wants that girl.”

Tan sounded kind of amazed, like it was something completely out of reach — especially for people like him and Nat. Two people with the most punk, rebellious, cool auras, but who, let’s face it, no one ever really noticed. And who, in reality, were just two dumb losers who skipped class to smoke a joint, play cards, and talk about music.

“Yeah, well… she’s mine now.”

Nat said, something between a joke and serious jealousy — but sarcastic. Yeah, Lottie Matthews was hers. Hers alone.

It was nearly eight in the evening when Lottie was finishing getting ready for a dinner with her father’s friends — one of those investor things, and possibly another attempt to push one of his friends’ sons on her, as if ensuring she’d stay under his control even in her romantic choices.

It was always the same script: she’d put on light makeup, wear formal, absurdly expensive dresses just to sit on the couch or raise a glass to something she had no real interest in hearing about. Polite smiles exchanged, mechanical conversations, a few genuinely interesting ones about art, books, and the like. If she was lucky, her father would ask her to play piano for the guests and let her choose the classical piece that would be playing on the record player that night.

She was sitting at her vanity, hair down — long, wavy strands falling perfectly over her shoulders, her bangs immaculately aligned — and now she was struggling to fasten a gold necklace around her neck. Nothing too flashy, but still an important detail.

Until she heard a knock on her window.

The first time, she didn’t pay much attention. She thought it was probably the wind, or maybe some animal that had accidentally bumped into the window. But after the third knock, she went to check — and the one disturbing her window had both a first and last name. Natalie Scatorccio was there.

Lottie found it endlessly impressive, Nat’s ability to climb things — it was simply out of this world, the way her girlfriend kept doing it even after Lottie had told her she could just use the door like a normal, lazy person. And she always wondered how the hell she managed to get past the gate and cross the garden without being seen.

“What are you doing here?…”

She asked as she opened the window. It wasn’t a scolding question — it was amused, somewhere between surprise and the fear she’d fall trying to pull that off a second time. Nat climbed in and just kissed her, cupping both sides of her face like she’d missed her terribly — even though they’d seen each other earlier that day.

“I missed you.”

She said it honestly, looking at her with the kind of love only fools allow themselves to show. And Lottie knew. She knew Nat had missed her, even if she tried to hide it behind that sarcastic smile, that sharp wit, that stubborn jaw. Lottie laughed against her lips when Nat leaned in to kiss her again.

“You saw me this afternoon.”

She said playfully, brushing soft kisses over her girlfriend’s lips. Nat’s hands slid down to her waist, holding her there with a mix of care and firmness, her fingers stroking gently in the exact way that made Lottie melt.

Nat pressed a kiss to her neck — not a hungry one, but something warm and tender, full of affection. Then she rested her nose on Lottie’s shoulder for a few quiet minutes.

“Yeah, but I still missed you.”

She mumbled it in that adorably clingy way of hers, without fully admitting to it — something that was uniquely Nat.

“You look really pretty tonight, by the way.”

Lottie melted even more when her girlfriend looked at her, eyes sweeping her from head to toe like she was some kind of artwork meant to be admired. Matthews ran her fingers through Nat’s hair for a few seconds, tucking the rebellious platinum strands behind her ear. Then she cupped her face, pressing her fingers into the soft dimples of her cheeks, and kissed her again — quick, sweet.

“Bad timing, baby. I have a dinner with terrible, rich people.”

She joked affectionately, tapping the tip of Nat’s nose with her index finger and watching her scrunch it up in response. Lottie pouted as if to say she was truly sorry.

“Oh, okay… rich girl duties.”

Nat’s green eyes rolled in that signature way — dramatic and natural all at once, like it was something she’d perfected just to make it hers. No one else could pull it off the same way.

“At least I got a few kisses.”

She said it with that little mischievous smile of hers, defeated but apparently at least slightly satisfied. Lottie glanced at the small watch on her wrist, then wrapped her arms around Nat’s shoulders, hugging her by the neck before speaking — and kissing her:

“I think the guests can wait five more minutes.”

They kissed for a while. Lottie is pretty sure it was more than five minutes. They lost their breath, then came back into it awkwardly, as if they hadn’t kissed in ages. They kissed at the window too, saying goodbye again, and again, and again — until Nat really had to go.

Lottie had to fix her makeup again, but it was worth it.

She walked down the stairs with a huge smile on her face — and it wasn’t fake at all. It was completely genuine, and she didn’t even have to try to keep it up. In her chest, unlike other dinners they’d had, where there was only the weight of being present, now there was warmth and a good kind of suspicion — the kind of secret that warms you from the inside and makes you feel giddy in the silliest way.

She was radiant. She even chatted more with the guests, played piano, and didn’t worry as much about her father trying to parade her in front of young men like she was some dish being offered up at a political banquet.

But even though the evening felt light, Lottie sensed something from her mother. A kind of suspicion. A gaze that followed her around the room, watching her genuine laughter a little too closely. But she pushed it aside, like she always did. It was probably nothing.

She talked about books, music, her studies, even finance, with a spark she didn’t even know she had. The guests, for some reason, suddenly seemed interesting — though she knew it was just the effect of being happy, of having seen Natalie earlier.

The night flew by. One by one, the guests left. Malcolm looked proud of Lottie that evening, as if he were finally seeing the brilliance of his daughter. He hugged her, kissed her forehead, called her by the sweet nickname he used back when she was just a little girl — making her laugh, almost making her forget who he really was.

But her mother… Lottie’s mother only watched. With a frightening calm. As if she were evaluating every detail, every move her daughter made. As if she were waiting for some silent confirmation.

Lottie was too tired to dwell on it. She just wanted to sleep.

But when she opened the door to her bedroom, it wasn’t her pillow she found — it was the image of her mother, sitting at the edge of her bed. A long sigh escaped the woman before she said anything at all.

“We need to talk.”

She said it as soon as the door opened. She didn’t even have to look. She knew it was Lottie. After all, she was on her turf.

“Did something happen?”

Lottie asked carefully, her voice laced with soft concern — but her heart was already racing, as if an old premonition had finally confirmed itself, no words needed.

“I know what you’ve been doing.”

The older woman spoke firmly. Almost harshly. Lottie’s chest stopped for a second. Confusion creased her brow, forming a tight, tense furrow.

“Mom, I don’t understand…”

She said cautiously, still unsure. But Emilia finally looked at her — and what was in her eyes wasn’t familiar. They were wet eyes, full of restrained tears. And something else. Something Lottie couldn’t quite tell if it was anger, disgust, or sadness.

“I saw you kissing her, Charlotte!”

Chapter Text

Silence took over the room. Lottie froze the moment she heard her mother — she didn’t know what to say, didn’t expect it. Shock, anguish, and tension tangled together into a feeling so stuck it seemed to suspend the moment midair.

Emilia looked at her with something different. Lottie couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or contempt; she couldn’t quite read those tearful eyes or that heavy expression — the way her mother brought her hands to her face and simply sat on the edge of the bed, like someone finally releasing a long-contained shock. Or like someone who simply didn’t know what to do.

The silence was crushing. Every corner of that room felt smaller in the weight of the moment. It was claustrophobic. Her chest vibrated, thumped, and clenched, as if unsure whether it would explode outward or collapse inward. Lottie felt the tears sliding down her cheeks. This couldn’t have happened. Not now. Not now, when she and Nat were doing so well. Not now, when everything was supposed to be behind them.

She just let herself fall, hands over her face, still distant from her mother but on the same bed — as if the physical space between them might shield them from an inevitable confrontation. She stared at one spot in frustration. A spot that didn’t matter, because her vision was blurred, on hold. She wasn’t crying. She couldn’t.

“You’re lucky it was me who saw it, and not your father.”

Emilia finally spoke, after a long pause. Her voice was trembling, her sigh weary. She ran a hand over her face again — a gesture of self-soothing or someone searching for answers. Lottie couldn’t tell.

She looked at her mother for a few seconds, trying to find her voice. A new kind of fear was forming there, hanging between them. A fear they both shared.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Her voice was small, frightened — like a child begging not to be punished. Lottie wasn’t afraid of that unfamiliar look in her mother’s eyes — she could handle any contempt that came from Emilia. But she couldn’t handle her father’s authority.

He was the raw archetype of the Emperor: harsh, cold, controlling. The kind who manipulates everything around him. The kind who would never fall reversed — because he was that. Dominant. Sovereign. Lottie couldn’t deal with that. But she could deal with her mother’s silence.

“So he can send you away from me, lock you up in a sanatorium and blame me for everything you are? For God’s sake, no!”

And then Lottie understood. That look was, yes, one of disappointment — but it was also self-inflicted punishment. As if Emilia were judging herself for everything. For being, maybe, a terrible mother. For being responsible for who Lottie was — or wasn’t.

And for the first time, clarity came to the daughter’s eyes: it wasn’t just her who lived under the crushing weight of Malcolm Matthews’ mind. Emilia lived there too. She carried old guilt. And this would just be another one.

Lottie didn’t say anything. She just moved toward her mother. Slowly, carefully, and with the time it took. She leaned into her arms, and was received without resistance.

“I’m sorry.”

She said it through a cry that came quickly. Emilia held her like someone who embraces… or like someone who no longer has the strength to resist. She just held her. Like someone trying to protect a little girl — even in the face of disappointment, frustration, and judgment.

“How long?”

The older woman asked, the sob still caught in her throat, the shock still lingering, the pain pulsing in her chest. Lottie could feel it — she felt it in the weight of the words, in the way her own heart clenched, and in how guilt hit her with relentless force. And along with it, a new feeling: fear. Fear of having to stay away from Nat.

Lottie didn’t want to defend herself from it anymore. She wanted to keep going. And she didn’t know if she’d be able to push her away again. Maybe she couldn’t even leave her, even if she wanted to — and she didn’t.

“How long have you been doing this kind of thing?”

Emilia repeated, hesitant, as if she wasn’t ready for the weight of the answer.

Lottie wiped her face, stood up, and faced her when she finally found the strength.

“About a year…”

She said it, referring to the time when she truly started noticing Natalie — because that’s when it all began, or awoke, even if she hadn’t realized it at first. She swallowed hard.

“But I think it’s always been here. Somehow.”

She confessed.

Lottie knew none of this was about Nat — it was about herself. Because even if Natalie had never entered her life, even if their paths had never crossed, Lottie would still be this. Maybe still repressed, maybe still suffocating in silence — but still herself.

It had taken time to accept that. To understand that everything came down to her. It had taken time to welcome that feeling, to let it live inside her. And now… now that it was already so deeply rooted, even if not entirely embraced, she didn’t want to give it up.

Lottie was a lesbian. And she would still be — with or without Natalie.

But now — especially with her. Because she definitely wasn’t going to let her go. Even if fear was seeping into every corner of her mind.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

She whispered. It was timid, restrained — but firm. She was scared. She didn’t know what would come next. Everything felt like a ticking time bomb, about to explode into moral guilt, maybe religious shame. She wasn’t sure she was ready for any kind of judgment… but she knew it would come. She braced herself for the pain.

But it didn’t come. 

All she received was silence. Not a silence of punishment, or denial. Not even of contempt.

It was more than that. And less than anything Lottie could name. 

Her mother said nothing. She went quiet.

She didn’t forbid her from seeing Nat, didn’t lock her in a room, didn’t send her away. There was no speech. No shouting. No prayer.

And maybe that hurt more than any reaction would have. 

Lottie could stay with Nat — no one was stopping her. But she still had to deal with that quiet wave of disdain coming from her mother. She couldn’t tell if it was disgust… or just the slow process of acceptance. But it was there. And it existed.

Still, Emilia kept her promise: she didn’t tell Lottie’s father. She acted normally around him, as if nothing had happened. As if life simply moved on.

But Lottie knew. She knew this wasn’t just about her — it was also about the power Malcolm Matthews had over Emilia. And now, more than ever, everything made sense.

Her mother was closer to her than she’d ever realized.

Maybe because she was trapped too.

And that’s exactly why now — now, when she needed her the most — Lottie found herself missing her mother’s attempts to reach out. And now, of all times, they weren’t coming.

Nat was back at practice the following week. Still slow, not quite the explosive version of herself she’d been before — but she made up for it with strategy. And it worked. They played a friendly match against a local team.

They didn’t lose, but they didn’t win either.

A tie. A cold game, in every sense of the word.

In the locker room, the girls said their goodbyes with the usual excitement, trading out their sweaty, mud-covered uniforms. Winter was coming fast, and with it, the team’s break. Playing on a field buried under snow would be impossible — and secretly, Nat was thankful for that.

Maybe they could get away — her and Lottie. Like last time. But this time with no sudden disappearances, no weight of dread pressing against their chests. Just them.

Together as hell. The way it felt right. 

But when Nat sat beside her on the locker room bench, something felt off.

Lottie was there, right next to her, but she seemed far away. 

Not physically — she even leaned in and left a quick kiss on Nat’s shoulder the moment she saw none of the other girls were watching. A secret gesture. Careful. 

But her gaze… her gaze was somewhere else.

And Nat knew that look well. That flicker of restlessness in her eyes. The way she fiddled with her bangs, over and over again, like she was recalculating something inside herself.

But she waited. Waited for the right moment to ask. Because with Lottie, there was always a right moment.

“Lawttie… what’s going on?”

She was direct, no beating around the bush, as soon as they were in the car. Lottie hadn’t even turned the engine on yet — she seemed distant, and Nat needed to know why. She never really knew how to circle around things, how to test the waters; she was always straightforward, but this time she tried to be careful with her words, tried not to sound completely invasive.

And Lottie… Lottie didn’t say a word.

In an instant, she simply unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed onto Nat’s lap, settling over her in an almost desperate way. Lottie kissed her, and Nat only kissed back after the initial shock, not really questioning why she was doing this — even if, yes, it was strange.

Lottie’s hands immediately reached for the seat adjustment. She reclined it so they’d both be more comfortable, then kissed Nat again. She kissed her neck — quick, frantic, with a level of urgency Nat had never seen in her before. She felt Lottie’s teeth sink into her skin — those sweet little canines she loved so much.

Nat’s hands tangled in her shirt, wandered foolishly to the places Lottie usually scolded her for touching when they were making out in the car after practice — but now, miraculously, there was no scolding. Lottie moved her hips when Nat’s hand slipped into her workout shorts, and she moaned against her lips when Nat entered her — in that quick, needy, strange heat, but so precise. It all happened fast, urgent, raw with desire, and ended just as suddenly as it began, barely giving Scattorcio time to process what had just happened.

They were both left panting, Lottie’s sweaty forehead resting on Nat’s shoulder, her hand still gripping Nat’s shirt, as if holding her there. As if she didn’t want to let her go.

“What happened, my love?”

Lottie sniffled.

It wasn’t exactly crying, but more like a kind of shrinking — a retreat inward, almost imperceptible, but Nat picked up on it immediately.

Something was happening. She knew. She could feel it.

She gently ran her hand along her girlfriend’s back, a light, no-pressure kind of touch — just presence.

“You called me my love?”

The taller girl asked it almost in a whisper, her voice thick, small inside her.

Nat let out a short, dry laugh — almost sarcastic.

It wasn’t cruelty. It was her way of saying that’s what surprises you right now?

“Fuck, yeah, I did.”

She admitted it just like that — no beating around the bush. Like someone who carries armor but also knows when to set it down.

The words came out still a bit clumsy, awkward, but honest — like everything that came from Nat. That’s how she exposed herself: with the bluntness of someone who doesn’t plan, who just feels.

And well… it wasn’t the first time that nickname had slipped out. Only this time, Lottie had heard it. And whether she let it hurt or sink in — Nat didn’t know yet.

A brief silence settled between them.

Not comfortable, not exactly tense either — just the exact space between two people trying to understand each other.

Nat’s voice broke through the air again:

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Lottie knew there was no way to escape — and deep down, she didn’t really want to.

She just didn’t know how to say it. Saying it was always the hardest part.

But she would try.

She sighed, adjusting herself again in the driver’s seat. Closed her eyes for a moment, searching for some courage to bring up a subject that had been hanging in the air — floating inside their home like dust no one wanted to touch.

“My mom found out about us.”

She said it all at once, her voice already tired before anything had really begun — as if the weight of that confession came before the actual conversation.

It took her a few seconds to meet Nat’s eyes.

Her girlfriend still looked like she was processing.

That furrow between her brows had already formed — the kind that asks how even before it asks why.

“I think she saw us kissing by the window.”

Lottie added, before Nat could ask.

And she saw the blink, the way Nat searched for words, the way — for once — she didn’t seem to have anything to say.

Not a drop of sarcasm — just silence.

“Are you gonna need some time?”

It was blunt. Fast. Painful.

Nat’s first question wasn’t about Emilia. It wasn’t whether they had fought, or how it all happened. It was about distance. About being left.

Are you going to disappear again?

And that hit hard. It hit hard because it was a real fear. Lottie felt it.

Felt it in the immediacy of the question, in the way that was Nat’s first thought — as if she already expected the retreat.

As if she’d grown used to being pushed aside.

“Obviously not.”

She answered firmly, without hesitation.

In one breath — so there’d be no room for doubt. Because distance now wasn’t an option. She could barely carry what was already hurting. Pulling away from Nat wouldn’t ease anything — it would only deepen what was already unbearable. That was the thing: their relationship seemed to be the problem… and the only solution at the same time.

“I’m just scared my dad will find out.”

She buckled her seatbelt again, fixed her hair, and ran her fingers over her messy lips — like someone trying to pull herself together, inside and out, before starting the car.

The parking lot was almost empty now, wrapped in that late afternoon silence that felt more like a forced pause than peace.

“Do you think she’ll tell him?”

Nat’s voice came out raspier than usual, but filled with genuine concern — unexpectedly open, with no walls up.

It wasn’t a demand, it wasn’t rushed — it was just that kind of restless ache that grows in your chest when you love someone and you can’t protect them.

Lottie knew.

She knew Nat also knew that she was scared.

And that was… irritating.

Irritating because, somehow, she had no idea when exactly they’d learned to read each other like this — as if they could simply access one another, cut straight through, no words needed.

As if just being close was enough to know what the other was feeling.

“…I don’t think so.” 

Lottie answered after a beat. Her voice came out softer, like she was still thinking as she spoke.

“My dad already blames her for a lot of things when it comes to me.”

Things didn’t get resolved — not in any real way, at least. They just lingered there, suspended in the air like almost everything else in this fucking life. Almost everything that demands patience, or some kind of perfect timing to settle.

Lottie and Nat started being more careful. They barely saw each other outside of school — and that was slowly killing Nat. Because, as painful as it was to admit, she had become dependent on Lottie Matthews.

Not exactly an emotional dependency — not the destructive, suffocating kind. It was just… a constant need to be near her. An absurd craving for a few more minutes with her to feel satisfied. Not whole. Just… less incomplete. 

She needed to kiss her more. Talk more.

See that annoyingly beautiful face and know that it still existed in the world, close enough to touch. But Lottie barely showed up at the shop anymore.

She was always leaving early, going out for lunch, dinner, fulfilling stupid commitments that made no sense to Nat.

And then, there were the final exams.

It was their last year.

The last one. And they had to decide where to go, what to do next. Nat didn’t know. She didn’t know, and she was putting it off. The future could wait a little. Hers had always been unpredictable anyway.

As unpredictable as the future was, it was just as surprising to see her girlfriend standing at the door with two full bags — apparently ready to stay for a couple of days, because she’d managed to get out of a business trip with her parents.

It was a breath of relief.

A true gift for two teenagers who could barely see each other during the week.

The longing was thick — and it translated into the way they didn’t leave the bed that night, wrapped in sheets and in each other, as if the world outside could wait.

Now, Nat was lying on her stomach, eyes closed, wearing the wide, mischievous smile of someone who was in paradise.

Lottie, playfully, was running a pen across her freckles, connecting the tiny dots like they were constellations.

As if Nat’s body were the entire sky.

“Have you thought about what you’re gonna do after school?”

Lottie asked out of nowhere, and Nat let out a groan, already growing irritated with that topic — one she didn’t want to touch. Not now.

“Babe…”

She mumbled, half-distracted, like she was still trying to hold on to the moment just before — that perfect second when Lottie was just lost in her freckles.

She missed that easy silence, the lightness they shared before the future started to weigh on everything.

“No, Nat… seriously. We could try to go to the same college and—”

Matthews began, excited — in that quiet, delicate, graceful way only she could pull off. Nat wanted that too. Of course she did. But her life didn’t work like that. She had the shop. She had a routine that had taken years to become even slightly stable. 

Giving all that up now… it was hard.

“Lottie… things aren’t that simple for me.”

She said it in a calm but firm tone. A soft cut, but a real one. Like someone saying: please, let’s be more grounded.

“But, Nat…”

And it was the moment she realized her girlfriend would keep pushing that Nat rolled over quickly, knocking Lottie onto her back and climbing on top of her — making the girl scream and laugh at the same time, in that high, light sound Nat loved to hear.

Then she teased, between laughter:

“Shut up now… or I’m gonna have to make you shut up.”

Chapter Text

It was Thanksgiving, a holiday that had never meant much to Lottie. It was always the same thing anyway, though she managed to amuse herself between the Matthews’ lavish banquets and the occasional expensive drink, while people went on about their accomplishments and celebrated their wealth more than ever. Her parents always hosted one of those dinners, inviting the city’s most important and influential families—the kind of gathering that made 1997 feel like 1800, only without the ball gowns. Maybe just a fancy dress code, with overpriced suits and dresses that would likely be worn once and then discarded, as if dry cleaners didn’t exist, or as if the Matthews’ dinner was far too important for anyone to show up in something less than unique.

It wasn’t that she disliked the holiday itself. It wasn’t the party, or even the expensive dresses—which she would have to admit she loved—but the company. Maybe if all those people drinking were her friends, if all those dresses were on her girlfriend, or if all those boring men puffing on overpriced cigars were Nat, maybe then she’d actually love the holiday. She would’ve loved to see her smoking an expensive cigar in an expensive dress, sipping some overpriced liquor while talking about finance. She’d never get bored of that, and maybe it would have even become her favorite holiday, with the stock market as her new favorite topic. But things weren’t like that—and she and Nat weren’t in the best place either.

The truth was, senior year was coming to an end. Teenagers were leaping into the next stage of life, choosing whether to attend college out of state or to try their luck somewhere closer. Some were just sending off their letters, their applications, while others had mailed them so long ago that replies were already arriving.

Lottie had sent hers: she would try for English Literature and Anthropology, without any support from her father, who couldn’t begin to imagine her as anything but a lawyer or something along those lines.

But the real problem—the real problem—was that Nat avoided talking about any of it with Lottie, even though the two of them had sent in their applications on the very same day. Nat, however, had only done so under Lottie’s insistent persuasion.

The truth was, Lottie felt her girlfriend had grown hopeless, wanting to stay behind because of the shop—a truth she only understood after a terrible fight with Nat. The blonde’s words still echoed in her head like the blaring of an alarm at dawn:

“You’ve got everything, Lottie. But me? What do I have besides this?”

There had been truth in that. Maybe Lottie had been selfish, tangled up in her own expectations and desires, which seemed far too dreamlike for the reality they lived in. Sometimes, she felt the world she and Nat inhabited pushed them apart, keeping them at opposite ends of what each was able to do—or how each chose to act. In some ways, Lottie felt she barely knew what it was to live outside her own bubble, even when she tried to keep her eyes open to the real world. She knew how to look beyond it, yes, but she didn’t live there; she had never even tasted a single drop of it to truly understand.

Maybe she should call Nat, apologize. Maybe she could start thinking about how to make a long-distance relationship work. She could easily visit Nat on the weekends, take her out during the holidays. And yet, it still felt like a difficult change to make.

Maybe she should also stop thinking so much about the future, but that was who Lottie was: an anxious thinker, incapable of handling the smallest unexpected crack in her polished world—a chaotic world that looked perfect and orderly at first glance, but demanded an immeasurable price just to keep up appearances.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Lucy appeared at her door, calling her downstairs. The guests had already arrived, and apparently her parents wanted her there. It was a little strange, though, that it wasn’t her mother coming for her this time, since Emilia was still caught up in her little game of ignoring her. Honestly, Lottie didn’t know how to feel about it. Maybe she would have preferred outright condemnation a thousand times over this endless silence, this constant guessing game of what her own mother was thinking.

Nat, meanwhile, was spending the holiday at Van’s house, something they did every year. Nothing fancy: just cheap food, cigarettes, drinks, movie tapes, and a bit of music. Exactly the kind of thing ’90s kids did to have fun, when the weight of everyday boredom felt just a little heavier than usual.

The blonde, however, was more restless than usual, perched on the windowsill as she lit her cigarette, her gaze drifting somewhere far away. Anyone who truly knew her, though, would notice the faint tremor in her hands, and the way she held the lighter to the cigarette—clumsy, wrong, almost like an addict who hadn’t smoked in hours. Even though she’d already burned through two packs that day.

She smoked one after another, because that’s what Nat did when her thoughts raced too fast for her to catch hold of any of them. With each drag, her body seemed pathetically desperate for yet another first drag, another wave of relief, another drop of the damn calm that the cursed tobacco granted as it burned her lungs for a few fleeting minutes—while the smoke curled into the air and vanished just as quickly as any logical thought she might have had.

“If you think any harder, your head’s gonna explode.”

Van’s voice cut in, playful as always, but softened with the kind of affection that came from knowing her friend would probably pull back before opening up. She cracked open a can of beer and handed it to the girl on the windowsill, taking a sip herself as soon as her friend accepted the can from her hand.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?”

The blonde let out a heavy sigh at the question, smoke slipping quickly and more densely from her lungs—as if the sigh had been so automatic it didn’t even give her body time to absorb all the toxins from the cigarette.

“It’s not about her. It was just a stupid fight.”

She shrugged. It wasn’t quite true, but that was Nat. She never turned her feelings or problems into something big; she never would. She’d always been too blunt, too dry for anyone to call her emotional. Even though, deep down, she was.

“Then why are you acting like a kicked dog?”

The redhead asked, leaning against the wall beside the window where Nat sat. The blonde shot her a sharp glare, but it wasn’t as if that good-humored girl cared.

“Because I wish I knew what to do now, but I don’t. I never thought it would all come this fast.”

Scattorccio rolled her eyes. She hated feeling vulnerable, hated that the people close to her knew her too well—and hated even more how everything always seemed so complicated for her most of the time. As if her damned life had been doomed from the start, cursed with problems and the constant stench of alcohol. As if she’d been predestined for it. And maybe she had… if she believed in that kind of crap.

The problem was that Nat kept putting off the decision—an incurable procrastinator, a girl who loved to leave the worst choices for later, as if “later” would never actually come. And when it did, she was already lost in her own mess, yet still had to keep up the façade of someone who always knew what to say, who always knew what to do, who would always find a way out.

The truth was, Nat didn’t always know what she was doing—she only pretended she did. She pretended to find a path, or at least to have one inside her own confusion. And maybe, maybe that was her greatest flaw. And maybe—just maybe—Lottie had caught on to it.

Nat didn’t blame her girlfriend for believing they could have a good life, that they would go off to college together without a hitch. She didn’t judge her for thinking things could be easy. Because the problem, in itself, wasn’t Matthews, but her irritating tendency to dream too much, to imagine too much, to believe too much. How could she crush the hopes of someone who believed in tantric practices and whatever the hell yoga was supposed to be, namaste, and that whole mess of destiny and gods that Lottie so devoutly clung to? Though, tantric sex didn’t sound all that bad, to be fair.

Lottie descended the grand staircase of the Matthews mansion gracefully, as she had so many times before. And, as always, her parents’ old friends and their sons watched her as if competing over who would devour her first with their eyes. It didn’t bother her anymore; she simply played along, and sometimes even found amusement in their clumsy attempts to approach her—and in the disappointment written across their faces when she told them she was already taken, though she never revealed by whom.

There was always a slight danger in that, of course—that one of her father’s friends might carry the rumor back to him. But, for some reason, none of them ever did. Maybe their egos were bruised enough by the idea that the Matthews girl had been “claimed” by someone else, even if they didn’t know who.

But this time, an unwanted presence at the party could change everything. From afar, Lottie had already spotted Richie by his greasy blond hair and his clothes—pieces that had clearly been picked by his mother, since he’d never voluntarily step out of his athlete’s uniform.

He was holding a glass of something, his oversized hands so disproportionate they could have belonged to an ogre. Lottie felt an extra layer of disgust for that kind of man—or, more specifically, for that boy. He irritated her, especially after what he’d done to Nat.

The truth was, Richie’s parents—his father in particular—owned the psychiatric clinic where Lottie was being treated, and were quite close to her own father. Although she doubted Richie had the slightest idea, the simple fact of him being there, mingling at her family’s parties, was enough to set her nerves on edge.

She tried to ignore him. She poured herself a glass of liqueur and downed it almost in one go, as if it were a shot of whiskey strong enough to get her drunk in a single sip. She wanted Nat. She missed Nat, even though it hadn’t been long since they’d last seen each other. Just the day before, they had woken up together after a night spent tangled up—because it seemed like they never tired of it.

They had woken up still in each other’s arms. Nat had showered her bare shoulder with so many kisses Lottie had lost count, pretending to stay asleep just to be caught in a session of tickling and teasing kisses at her neck that made her laugh harder than Nat’s fingers poking at her ribs ever could. Nat was like a little dog, nuzzling her as if sniffing its owner for comfort—though the blonde claimed it was more like sniffing her the way an addict inhaled cocaine.

Matthews often caught herself smiling wide just by remembering that sharp humor, that sly smile, those green eyes that always seemed to know what was coming next, that quick tongue that always had an answer—even when it didn’t.

It was almost bittersweet to think about how quickly that day had unraveled. From morning kisses, to breakfast in bed because Nat insisted on treating her like a damn princess, only to later complain that she was spoiled and bratty—though maybe the blonde herself was to blame for that.

From a picnic on top of a mountain to a fight about who had everything and who had nothing. From kisses and laughter, touches and embraces, to a night of silence—distant enough that neither had called the other the next day, turning it all into a game of who would cave first.

Nat felt tempted to glance at the phone hanging on Van’s wall, almost the way an addict eyes the fix just steps away from giving in. But this time, Nat wouldn’t be the one to cave. Maybe Lottie should be the first to call. Maybe it was time for Nat to take refuge in her pride—a comfort zone she was only ever willing to abandon for one single person. But this time… this time she wouldn’t.

The hours were swallowed up by a tension that existed only inside Nat. It was as if the world had suddenly gone too quiet, her own senses the only thing present—the only thing she could hear and feel amid the laughter and the unmistakable haze of weed filling the room. But it didn’t matter. As much as her mind was on Matthews, that girl knew how to find her, knew where to look. And she also knew how to apologize—if that was what Scattorccio really needed.

But Nat’s mind wouldn’t stay still, and every time she thought about calling Lottie, her pride locked her up somehow. It wasn’t as if it had been some big fight, just something strange—a feeling that kept her from moving, as if their relationship had frozen in that moment and stayed there, because neither of them was willing to take the first step.

She tried to distract herself with a card game, but the truth was she was so caught up in her own thoughts that she ended up losing to Kevin—also known as the worst player among them.

It was a strange feeling, because it was the first time they seemed to have such a strong disagreement since they’d been officially together. Before, fighting felt less unusual, because they were already in constant conflict with themselves—caught in that endless push and pull, that dance of attraction and repulsion that only exists when it’s a “almost something” and not a definite relationship.

Now, when things finally seemed settled and routine had defined them as people who could actually work together, everything felt different. Arguing felt different. It was strange not to be at peace when you know you’re loved—but that was exactly how she felt. As if a stupid fight could trigger some kind of defense system in her, as if she needed the peace to be shaken just to prove to herself that her walls still made sense.

The truth was that Nat was afraid that loving Lottie was a narrow road between the fear of losing and the pull of dependence—because that’s what love did to people. Nat was afraid of losing Lottie, but she was also afraid because she could no longer picture her life without her. It was as if, all the time, she silently asked herself what her life would be without Lottie, or who she would even be without that tall girl, with her brown hair and brown eyes, by her side.

But if she was so afraid of losing her, shouldn’t Nat be the one to apologize? Instead of trying to drown her mind in whatever drug, whatever thought, cheap beers that tasted more like piss than beer. No. Because the fear of dependence was just as real. And that was why she stayed put, pretending not to care—though she did care, and cared more often than she’d ever admit.

The night dragged on with an agonizing slowness, as if time itself had simply stopped, as if the universe wanted to toy with the despair slowly eating her up from the inside. Lottie had already slipped out of the party some time ago, taken a moment for herself, breathed in the fresh air—and then contradicted it by lighting one of the cigarettes she’d discreetly stolen from the pocket of one of her father’s friends’ jackets.

The first drag was rough; she inhaled more than she should have. Even though she smoked sometimes—many of those times sharing with Natalie—this was the kind of cigarette only old men liked: too strong, and maybe a little more disgusting than tolerable. But she didn’t care. Once she got used to it, she let the smoke burn in her chest, staring at the dark garden with no clear thought in her head. Only the feeling of an endless wait—the wait for something to change, for things to magically get better. The wait for something to simply happen, even if she had no idea what that something was.

A smile tugged at the corner of the brunette’s lips when she thought that if Natalie were there, she’d make some sarcastic remark about the way Lottie looked. And she’d be wearing that sharp smile—too sharp to be insecure—framed by the dimples that betrayed the softness she tried so hard to hide behind that tough exterior, behind the act of someone who always seemed to know exactly what she was provoking.

Maybe that was Lottie’s favorite thing about Nat: how soft she was beneath all that armor, and how she was kind and quick-witted—even when she pretended not to be.

She was pulled out of her own thoughts when footsteps—too heavy, too harsh—crossed the garden. Lottie was quick to drop the cigarette to the ground and crush it under her heel, fixing her hair to look at least somewhat presentable—though the lingering smell of smoke could easily give her away.

“So the Matthews princess is taken, huh.”

It wasn’t a soft tone, much less an unfamiliar one. There was disdain in that voice—a voice that made her want to vomit, that could make her ears bleed if it got too close.

Lottie sighed, nervously brushing her bangs aside, then folded her arms—an involuntary act, as if trying to shield herself while also showing impatience. She rolled her eyes, looking away.

“What do you want?”

She shot back in the same second, suspicious but without losing her posture. He stepped closer, raising his hands in a gesture of peace—peace that the tension in Lottie’s body wouldn’t allow to exist.

“Nothing. I just wonder if your father knows about this.”

It was pure disdain, a poisonous insinuation dragged out in his tone, accompanied by a disgusting smile, teeth stretched too wide. Tension climbed up Lottie’s body, but she tried to handle it—shrugged it off and started walking back toward the house.

“I wonder if Mr. Matthews knows his daughter’s just a filthy dyke whore.”

Chapter Text

September, 1997

It was one of those ordinary mornings when Lottie and Natalie went to school together — after Lottie managed to sneak out of the house with some excuse about having spent the night at Shauna’s place. Shauna, as always, covered for her no matter what. Of course, not without getting something in return — because Shauna was still Shauna: too clever to miss the chance to make Lottie owe her a favor for later.

They arrived earlier than usual. Kevin was riding with them too, as he always did, alternating between joking about feeling like the couple’s adopted son — jokes Nat absolutely despised, often threatening to kick him out of the car — and complaining about being the third wheel, which wasn’t entirely untrue.

Lottie didn’t really understand why Nat had insisted on getting there so early that day. The blonde had only said she needed to drop off some supplies — something Lottie chose not to ask too many questions about. Still, she’d heard the rumors, the kind that followed Natalie around before they started dating.

Not that Lottie had cared much back then; nothing about Natalie really got to her at the time.

But now… now it felt too different not to care.

The two of them stayed in the car for a while.

Nat, as always, rolled the windows down and lit a cigarette. She shared it with Lottie like it was some kind of familiar ritual between them — something that had existed ever since they met. Lottie would take a drag or two; other times, Nat would pull the cigarette away from her lips just to kiss them instead, saying she was jealous of everything that touched Lottie’s mouth — because she wanted to be all those things herself.

Lottie could only laugh softly, a little shy, with that kind of quiet charm that comes from someone who wants the other to keep talking. Because she’d discovered that girl — yes, that girl with the fierce aura, the rough edges, and the unbreakable stance — was, in truth, a gentle talker: sweet, soft, and endlessly kind.

And Lottie loved that. She loved even more knowing that this side of Nat was hers alone.

Because even though Natalie’s kindness reached everyone, it was different with Lottie. And that difference warmed her — like she’d finally found someone in the world who truly saw her, beyond what she seemed to be.

“Come on, Matthews. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours — I haven’t learned how to read minds yet,”

Natalie said with her usual tone — sharp, teasing, but still affectionate and playful.

Her green eyes turned toward Lottie with an admiration that shimmered through her dilated pupils; a smile more loving than taunting, hidden behind a sarcasm so practiced it rarely missed. Dimples, rounded teeth, a pointed chin — a personality too tough, and yet, impossibly soft.

Lottie could only smile back, like the hopelessly smitten fool she was. She felt like one of the characters from the books she devoured — as if she’d found in Nat the kind of connection she’d always dreamed of, and, at the same time, someone who made her connect with parts of herself she never knew existed.

She fixed her hair, tucking her bangs in place while glancing at the car mirror. Then she leaned closer and said, with a half-smile:

“I’m thinking about you… and that little habit of yours — always knowing what to say.”

She teased.

And Nat laughed — that easy, carefree laugh — covering her mouth because she knew she was smiling too much. She looked away, slightly flushed, rolling those impossibly green eyes that now carried a quiet awareness of being loved.

And Lottie knew it — knew she threw Nat off balance sometimes.

And maybe, just maybe, she loved doing it.

“Well, I can say that’s one of my sharpest skills, Miss Matthews.”

As always, it didn’t take long for the posture to return — still a little flustered, but composed enough to hold a sly smile at the corner of her mouth. Lottie rolled her eyes, and Nat just leaned in and kissed her, like someone who doesn’t know what to say — or perhaps like someone who knows she couldn’t bear an awkward pause a second time.

Nat’s lips tasted the same: sweet, moist, with an undercurrent of Marlboro Red cigarette smoke like a complex recipe — one that could easily be Lottie’s favorite.

Nat kissed her with a raw gentleness — passion and care in perfect balance. She held Lottie’s face firmly, but tenderly, a balance that felt natural, almost instinctive. She touched Lottie’s lips like someone tracing a well-worn path that still held surprises.

Breathless sighs mixed, foreheads pressed became a ritual, and their noses touching formed almost a single breathing system — one air between the two of them.

“Which one are you wearing today?”

Lottie laughed softly, because it was the only thing she could do — a lovestruck fool, unable to react properly, dizzy with every word Nat said. She knew Nat meant the lip gloss, so she brushed her nose against Nat’s and answered with a click of the tongue, a gentle tease:

“What’s your guess?”

From the tease came a challenge, and from the challenge, a silly game. Nat tried to steal another kiss; Lottie dodged, between laughs and Nat’s complaints as she insisted on one more kiss to confirm her guess.

The game spilled out of the car. Pressed against the hood, Lottie leaned back; Nat between her legs, lips on hers. She never imagined she’d allow herself there in full daylight — but there was no one around, and maybe, in that moment, she and Nat were the only thing that mattered.

When the kiss ended, Nat pulled away and said:

“I’m sure it’s watermelon.”

November, 1997

The moment Richie said that, Lottie froze. Tension raced through her veins like the time her mother had found out — but now it was different. That tension didn’t simply become fear and despair; it split into a whirlwind of feelings, with anger seeming to be the driving force.

Lottie’s blood ran hot as quickly as it had been cold a second before, as if the shock gave way to a feeling wrapped in fury. Maybe there was still fear there, but it was a fear that didn’t paralyze her — because, for an instant, she wanted to leap at Richie’s throat and strangle him. She wondered whether the courts would declare her insane and if an asylum wouldn’t be a thousand times better than prison.

But Lottie was still Lottie. Still controlled, still polished — which, in the end, was a contradiction, because everything inside her was about to explode. At the same time, she hid behind that posture of someone who never loses control, even though she lived constantly on the edge of it. As if the edge weren’t a limit, but a safe space for everything she kept locked away.

She didn’t react. She sighed and kept walking, as if she hadn’t heard. But Richie, of course, followed.

“I saw you two making out in the car.”

The tall boy said it while speeding up his steps. Lottie tried to ignore him, kept walking — and she had never hated that garden so much for being so damn big. Never wanted so badly to get out of there, out of the place she used to escape to when she needed distance from home. Never imagined that, under different circumstances, that house could ever feel like a refuge.

At the same time, her mind went blank; her body was simply determined to walk as fast as possible.

“But that’s fine. I bet that bitch manipulated you, made you act like a whore just like her.”

And that was enough. That was all it took for something inside Lottie to finally react — as if nothing Richie had said about her mattered until the moment he touched what mattered most. It was as if, to defend Nat, Lottie suddenly found herself capable of stepping down from the heels of passivity and, without hesitation, taking a stance of attack.

“Don’t you dare talk about my girlfriend like that.”

It was sudden. She turned around, pointing a firm finger at his face — and he was, surprisingly, much taller than her. Lottie had always been tall, nearly eye level with most boys her age, but Richie was a brute.

He took a step back, wearing an expression Lottie couldn’t quite read — a smile she couldn’t tell was malicious or mocking. Maybe both. His nose wrinkled, large and ugly, betraying a flicker of discomfort at what he’d just heard.

For a moment, Lottie thought he might actually back off, accept the answer, and leave. But she forgot, just for a second, who Richie was — and she forgot there was no one around to hold him back, no entire football team before whom he needed to keep up appearances.

“Girlfriend?”

He stepped closer. Too close. So close she could hear his breathing — heavy, hot, and disgusting. He breathed like an overfed pig that had just rolled in the mud — and he sweated the same way. Maybe, in that moment, they shared the same kind of disgust, but for entirely different reasons: Richie felt repulsed by Lottie, now that he knew she liked girls; and Lottie, in turn, felt repulsed by him — for being exactly the kind of man she hated most. Not because he was a man, but because he was the perfect portrait of that bloated, rotten masculinity she had always despised.

“Disgusting.”

He spat the word with a mocking whisper, almost theatrical, turning his head to spit on the ground — as if he needed to expel the word itself from his chest. Then, he grabbed Lottie’s wrist.

She looked at him with an almost murderous fury in her eyes. Her teeth ground together like a dog about to attack; she could taste the metallic tang of anger rising in her throat, feel the blood boiling in her head and tightening every muscle in her face. And yet, she was frozen. Unable to react. It was as if something held her back, as if her body refused to respond to the urgency pulsing inside her.

She could feel it — the same anger that had taken over her the last time she slapped Richie, spitting threats in his face to defend Nat. But now, that strength that once fueled her seemed gone. The ability to defend someone, to turn fury into movement, had vanished. Lottie felt like a car full of passengers but without fuel: whole, yet incapable of moving.

“Leave me alone.”

Matthews said through clenched teeth, her voice sharp with impatience. She yanked her arm away with the desperation of someone trying to shake off a burning touch. It felt like her skin was on fire, stinging where he had grabbed her. She rubbed her wrist, as if trying to erase the trace he’d left there, then turned her back on him, walking quickly toward the porch of the house. She wanted to reach the door — to get out of there — as fast as she could. But the boy wouldn’t give up.

Lottie could hear Richie’s heavy footsteps behind her, pounding against the ground like hammers. She picked up her pace, though it wasn’t easy — the heels didn’t help, and walking over the grass was almost a miracle in itself.

Then he grabbed her arm again, hard, and yanked her back. Her body slammed into his — solid as a wall.

Lottie could feel his fingers digging into her skin, leaving marks. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, forcing her to face him.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

The brunette snapped, fury spilling from her eyes, raw and alive. She struggled to break free — she hated feeling him on her, especially the brute way he was holding her arm.

The boy didn’t answer. He just dragged her by the arm toward the parking lot, while Lottie screamed for him to let her go.

October, 1997

Natalie lay on the bed with her eyes closed while Lottie rested against her chest. Nat could tell when she shifted restlessly sometimes, settling again only when the shorter girl began to run her hand lazily over her back. They often had moments like that — quiet, peaceful, just listening to each other breathe, feeling the warmth between them.

The smaller one kept one arm draped over her eyes. It had been a long day. The night before, she’d gone to a party with Kevin — not just for fun, but because she’d landed a gig bartending with him. They got the job after lying to the club owner, claiming they were professionals. They’d even forged résumés and fake recommendation letters, simply because the place was known for paying well.

The record shop job wasn’t easy either, even with Lottie, Kevin, and Van dropping by to help from time to time. Lottie had even suggested Nat hire someone, at least part-time. But with what money? It was either hire help or restock inventory. And with bands releasing more albums every month and new technology spreading fast, people were always chasing the next big thing — something new, something different.

And then there was that old woman who just wouldn’t die.

Obviously, Natalie hadn’t spoken to her in years — they hadn’t seen each other in forever — but the woman still managed to send bills and letters begging for money. Just a few days ago, she’d mailed Nat an outrageously high phone bill, as if three people had been using the line at once.

But she never used the line to call Nat, to check in, to show any concern for the source of her money. Not that Scatorccio cared — she didn’t care at all about that old woman. Still, she couldn’t say no without feeling guilty.

And school — damn school.

It was as if it drained her slowly, piece by piece. There was a certain relief that it was almost over, but also an anxiety about not knowing what would come next, having no idea what to do. It felt like a huge change — even if it wasn’t — something that, deep down, worried her. It weighed on her, as if she sensed that something was coming.

“I missed you this week,”

Lottie whispered, her nose brushing Nat’s cheek, her lips grazing his skin.

Nat smiled. Hearing that Lottie had missed her felt like a relief washing through her chest — like, finally, she understood that someone cared about her presence.

“Well, you lost, because I miss you every single day of the month,”

Nat replied playfully, letting out a laugh through her nose.

She could imagine her girlfriend’s face at that moment — that adorable little face, those annoyingly expressive brown eyes, the furrowed brows and mock indignation.

“You’re not going to turn this into a competition, are you?”

Natalie furrowed her brows and flashed a mischievous smile, the kind that said, “What do you think?”

And Lottie, as always, just laughed — that ridiculously sweet laugh, offering no answer at all, only that way of hers that made Nat want to punch her own chest for how fast her heart was beating.

“Five minutes till your birthday,”

Lottie said as she got up, running her fingers through her messy hair.

Damn, she looked beautiful wearing Nat’s shirt — it looked even smaller on her. She looked gorgeous like that — in that black band tee, too goth for her princess manners — but one glance downward, and the underwear she had on gave away her true style.

It made Nat bite her lip to keep from laughing.

Not because it was funny, but because there was something in Lottie’s beauty that made her tremble — like a teenager caught in their first crush, the kind that would probably tear them apart completely.

But, well… for Matthews, Natalie would do it a million times over.

“Wow, October 18th — the date of the year.”

The blonde said it playfully, though not exactly with enthusiasm. Every one of Nat’s birthdays had been the same — not that she cared. The last thing she would ever do was make a big deal out of surviving another year. Still, there she was, unable to be completely indifferent when a girl sat in front of her smiling from ear to ear, eyes gleaming as if the day belonged to her.

It was a tender kind of glow — the sort that charms, that casts a spell — and that’s precisely why it was dangerous.

But it was already too late. Natalie was far too deep in it, already drowning, following that damned siren wherever she led, even if it meant being pulled straight to her death.

“What do you want for your birthday?”

Lottie asked with a soft smile, crawling up into Nat’s lap, fitting perfectly there, right on top of her.

Nat smiled — it was impossible not to smile in front of that damned vision of paradise.

Lottie’s hair fell over her face, and she still managed to look beautiful, even from that ridiculous angle. Natalie sat up, pulling her closer; her hands traced the girl’s waist, one resting right where her thigh curved into her hip. She wet her lips before looking up at her, a mischievous grin in her eyes — the kind that said everything.

Lottie, as always, reacted dramatically — laughing, tilting her head back, giving her a light slap.

“You fucking pervert.”

She said, still laughing.

Nat let out a short laugh of her own, the sound melting into Lottie’s in unison, before replying:

“Oh, shut up, it’s my birthday.”

She teased — and like someone answering a call for help, Lottie kissed her.

A deep, sweet kiss, tender and full of warmth.

Her hands cupped Nat’s face, thumb brushing softly across her skin, and for a moment, everything else disappeared — as if nothing in that damn world mattered anymore.

And for the first time, Natalie didn’t mind looking so utterly ridiculous for being in love.

November, 1997

By that point in the party, everyone was already drunk — high out of their minds, lying on the floor, imagining the world crashing down on their heads without even being able to react.

It was like someone had said, “Imagine if the ceiling just collapsed,” and everyone burst out laughing as if it were the funniest joke in the worst stand-up show ever.

Nat loved it when she got like that — out of the world, out of her own body.

It felt as if the weight of life disappeared for a moment, leaving behind only the wildest things her high mind could dream up.

But she also knew what always came next: those few minutes of euphoria inevitably turned into sudden sadness.

Because, in the end, even a few minutes of happiness came at a cost.

And the high pulled her down just as much as it lifted her — only slower, deeper, quieter.

But even so, even in the most numb state, her mind still drifted straight to her, as if it were a curse — one of those curses that would make you thank the heavens every day for being condemned to her, if that even made sense.

Lottie was there, occupying even the deepest corners of Natalie’s mind, the owner of her fantasies, of her eternal devotion. It was almost as if she were a millennial entity, and Nat the poor being she had always served willingly. Because that’s what it was: she was on her knees for that girl.

And that was exactly what scared her the most. She feared losing control, feared letting herself go — although, in truth, she had already been carried away a long time ago.

It was contradictory to even try to explain why Natalie wasn’t moving — why she wasn’t running to that girl the way she would’ve at the first opportunity.

The truth was, she was scared — scared of the complexity of what she felt for Lottie.

Because, in truth, she was considering leaving everything behind just to live a life with her in another city, to start from scratch.

And maybe that was exactly what terrified her: the idea of starting over, of giving up everything she knew just to try to be happy.

Summer of 1985

Lottie had just turned twelve when her father decided to seek psychological help because of one of her episodes, after an ugly argument with his wife about the girl needing treatment. But of course, Malcolm was still Malcolm — he would never do anything that might look like a public embarrassment.

So, on a sweltering afternoon, they went together to a brief meeting at the home of a psychiatrist recommended by her father’s business friends — a man who, they said, treated his own wife’s anxiety. At the time, Lottie didn’t quite understand what that meant, nor why the meeting made her so uneasy. But she went anyway. She didn’t have a choice.

Little Matthews was the type of child who was overly shy — the kind who stayed reserved at home but loosened up around acquaintances. She played a lot, especially with Laura Lee, though she was always seen as an odd child. That oddness, to her father, was repulsive; to her mother, a small miracle; and to the doctors… later it would be given a name: schizophrenia. And so, Lottie would spend half her life jumping from psychiatrist to psychiatrist, as if they were trying to fix something she didn’t even know was broken.

But in that moment — in that exact moment — she was just a little girl, hiding behind the hem of her mother’s skirt, even though she was already a bit too old for it. Her eyes were wide with fear. A small cut on her forehead was covered by a clumsy bandage.

The environment was far from welcoming. The man who greeted them seemed more disturbed than the woman who claimed to treat patients. But there was another presence: a noisy, irritating boy, listening to loud music and throwing paper balls at the trash can — missing miserably judging by the amount scattered across the floor.

At that time, Richie wasn’t muscular at all. In fact, he was just a scrawny boy, much shorter than Lottie, with missing front teeth and a bruised eye that was already healing, a result of his fights — fights he never had the strength to win. Lottie didn’t care about him, never had. Still, from that moment on, they would continue to see each other frequently.

November, 1997

Lottie didn’t know exactly when she began to hate Richie — whether it was when he started bothering Nat or when he began trying, in every possible way, to get a date with her. She didn’t know, because at first she thought what she felt was only disgust, maybe repulsion — as if she simply couldn’t exist in the same space as him. She had still tolerated him back when she didn’t quite know how to step down from the Matthews pedestal, when she had to maintain appearances under her father’s watchful eye.

But now, the contempt was something else entirely. She hated his breathing, hated the fact that he was so close, and above all, hated how frozen she felt — unable to react. It was pure shock — and his words hammered inside her head: “I’ll fix you.” “You’re not really like this, you just haven’t had a real man.” “I’ll teach you how to be a woman.”

And then she stopped. Because she understood what was happening. There was no movement — only an uncontrollable disgust, almost physical, followed by the sensation of detaching from her own body. Lottie wasn’t in control. She could feel every hair on her body stand on end as Richie brushed her hair aside, his fingers grazing her arm. It felt like a thousand blades slicing through her skin at once — a raw, unrelenting sting.

The world went silent, and maybe that was the worst kind of silence she had ever experienced inside her own mind. But before Richie could press his lips against her neck, a voice broke through the air from a distance:

“What’s going on here?”

September, 1997

Natalie sat behind the small counter of the shop, watching the slow movement outside while sketching on the pages of the ledger — which, in practice, was more of a sketchbook than a record of how many records went out the door. Still, somehow, she managed to keep track of everything. Working amid chaos was almost one of Natalie’s specialties.

A hand-rolled cigarette hung from her lips. There was in her a kind of calm that only someone on a Saturday afternoon, at three o’clock, with every task already done, could have. Even so, she kept that faint sense of alertness — the kind of awareness that comes from knowing that too much peace is a luxury, and that whenever it arrives, it never lasts long.

Her fingers glided over the blue pencil with a practiced ease — the kind of ease that comes from countless hours of practice, though never taken seriously. It was as if Nat was bored enough to simply let it flow. The delicate lines formed a face that had become familiar across the pages of that old notebook — in the corner, in the middle, in any blank space. In every size imaginable.

Because it was always her that came to Natalie’s mind when she was alone.

The perfect face, framed by hair; the drawing accentuating her favorite features — the eyes, the rounded shape, those damn brown eyes that brought her a sense of delight. It worried her, in a way, because she realized she was clinging to the image of Lottie the same way a child clings to her favorite teddy bear.

Natalie was sitting behind the small counter of the shop, watching the slow movement outside while sketching on the pages of the account book — which, in truth, was more of a sketchbook than a record of how many records left the store. Still, impressively, she kept control of everything. Working amid chaos was almost one of Nat’s specialties.

A rolled cigarette hung from her lips. There was a calmness in her — the kind only someone could have on a Saturday afternoon, around three o’clock, with all tasks done. Yet she still kept that slight alertness of someone who knew peace was a luxury — and that when it came, it never lasted long.

Her fingers moved over the blue pencil with a kind of ease — the ease of someone who had practiced countless times but never took her talent seriously. It was as if Nat were just bored enough to let it all flow. The delicate lines shaped a face that had become a familiar sight across the pages of that old notebook — in the corners, the middle, every blank space. In all sizes.

Because it was always her who came to Natalie’s mind when she was alone.

The perfect face, framed by hair; the drawing highlighting her favorite features — the eyes, the soft roundness, those damn brown eyes that gave her a strange sense of delight. It worried her, in a way, because she realized she was clinging to Lottie’s image like a child clings to her favorite teddy bear.

And as if she’d somehow summoned a mischievous forest spirit, Lottie appeared the next hour — a huge smile on her face and eyes far too innocent for the person Nat was used to knowing. She was holding something behind her back, wearing that slightly childish, charming expression that already gave away she was up to something.

Nat instantly closed the notebook, swapping the drawing for the real image of her muse. She looked at her with that warmth that only appeared when Lottie was around — the kind of feeling that made her feel pathetically exposed, though she couldn’t care less.

She stepped out from behind the counter as Lottie came closer. The taller girl still had that goofy grin that never seemed to fade. Her bangs fell over her face, giving her an almost absurd air of innocence — the same bangs Nat had once felt against her cold skin. Lottie looked at her with those deer-like eyes, Bambi himself out of a Disney movie, and Natalie knew she wanted something.

“What are you trying to get?”

Nat said, her voice dripping with honey in the sweet way she spoke. It wasn’t mockery, nor sarcasm — and the rolling of her green eyes wasn’t boredom or irony either. It was pure affection. Absolute love.

The corner of her mouth curved into a crooked smile, and even that wasn’t irony — it was sheer delight.

And Lottie… Lottie looked at her as if she were some rare artifact, a kind of treasure Natalie wasn’t used to seeing in herself. But when Lottie looked at her like that, and smiled like that, she could feel it. She could see it. She could believe it.

Like the most skeptical of atheists who, after a near-death experience, finds faith for the very first time.

“My love, I told you.”

Lottie brought her arms forward, revealing what she’d been hiding, her tone that of a whining child — and Nat, against all logic, had learned to love that.

But how could she love something so pathetic? How could she possibly love that?

Then she’d look again and remember it was Lottie doing it — and she’d wonder, honestly, how anyone could not love her. Because it would be absurd not to.

Either way, she knew she was fucked.

Matthews was holding a kite. Red, with blue and green details. It wasn’t the prettiest, but it was big — and the girl looked radiant.

Nat smiled, ran a hand across her forehead, and glanced around.

“You know this isn’t really my thing…”

She said it in a calm, almost playful tone, trying not to sound too cold.

But Lottie surprised her with a quick kiss — the kind that steals your breath for a few seconds, the kind that catches you completely off guard.

And fuck… Scatorccio couldn’t deny it. She hated that the taller girl had that kind of power over her — as if Lottie were a light and she, a moth, always ready to burn but still incapable of resisting.

“I really LOVE kites,” Nat said with a grin — still a bit dazed from the kiss, her voice carrying a soft sarcasm that did nothing to hide her affection.

She made sure to emphasize the word love, and that alone was enough to make Lottie laugh.

November, 1997

Scatorccio didn’t know at what point that night it finally hit her — the realization that she couldn’t live without Lottie anymore. It was as if, all this time, they had been watering some kind of bond that Nat’s attachment trauma refused to acknowledge — and yet, it existed. It existed because Lottie kept staying, kept insisting, kept choosing her, again and again. And the possibility of that girl staying felt as real as the fear of being left behind.

Nat didn’t know exactly when she stubbed out her cigarette, grabbed her jacket, and left Van’s house, leaving behind every thought about the fight earlier that day. She didn’t know what, inside her, had awakened that strange feeling — that maybe things could finally be easy. That maybe she could accept happiness without suspicion, without fear of attachment, without the constant dread of losing it.

She didn’t know what made her feet start moving toward it, didn’t know what made her finally accept that maybe she could turn her life upside down all over again — that maybe she could let go of the fragile sense of stability she’d built.

But one thing she did know: she wanted Lottie.

And she needed to talk to her.