Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After the game and the fight and the explosion, PJ lays awake all night. She’s never been a great sleeper. It takes her ages to fall asleep, and she often wakes up already feeling exhausted. But tonight, her eyelids grow heavy, and her mind wanders back to the bleachers at the football field, the sounds of the crowd turning hazy as Hazel’s thumb fit under her jaw, and Hazel’s mouth. Hazel’s bruised lips and the way she took control of PJ’s mouth, slowing her down just to lean further in, kissing PJ again and again, like she wanted to taste her.

It’s crazy because PJ doesn’t even like Hazel. Not like that. She just can’t stop thinking about it.

At school, everything goes back to normal, for the most part. Everyone in the hallways is back to ignoring PJ and Josie as they walk to class. When they walk into first period history with Mr. G, Hazel looks up from her desk, and PJ looks down on reflex for some reason. She feels the flutter in her stomach that she felt for the first time at the football field on Friday, after she and Hazel kissed. She kind of hates the feeling, because what is she supposed to do with it? 

“Speak of the devil,” Annie says as PJ and Josie sit at their desks. 

“Hey,” Hazel says from her desk behind PJ’s. She kicks her foot back and forth, leaning over the pages of her open notebook as PJ looks back at her.

“Hey, Hazel,” PJ says carefully. After the fight and the bomb, she feels hyperaware of Hazel being next to her, which is weird. They've sat near each other for years.

“We were just talking about you,” Annie says as she sharpens her pencil. “You look really tired, PJ.”

“Wow, thanks,” PJ says sarcastically. Her ponytail might be messier than usual, and she didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, but that’s a pretty regular occurrence.

“Yeah, you kind of look like shit,” Annie says. “Are you, like, good?”

PJ pulls her binder out of her backpack and raises her eyebrows. “Wow, Annie, I didn’t know you cared.”

Annie puts down her pencil sharpener and smiles. “Well, Hazel was asking about you.”

PJ’s hands falter for a second, halfway through digging through her backpack for a pen, and she looks over her shoulder at Hazel. 

Hazel, eyes slightly wide, is shaking her head at Annie. She freezes when she sees PJ looking at her. “I was handing out Jolly Ranchers,” she blurts. “I just thought maybe you’d want one.”

“Oh.” PJ swallows. “Sure.”

Hazel’s face lights up as if PJ just offered her a cash prize. “Really?” She unzips her pencil case and pulls out a handful of mini Jolly rancher hard candies, the wrappers rustling. “Do you want blue raspberry, green apple, cherry, or grape?”

PJ can’t help smiling and teasing, “Damn, do you not have watermelon?”

Hazel looks devastated, shoulders dropping. “Oh, is watermelon your favorite?”

“I’m messing with you. Green apple is my favorite.”

Hazel perks up. “Oh, good. Here you go.” She carefully picks out the two green candies from her stash and gives them to PJ, her fingers brushing PJ’s palm.

“Thanks,” PJ says. She unwraps one of the candies and pops it into her mouth, and only then does she notice that Josie, Annie, and Sylvie are all looking at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Josie says slowly. 

Annie smirks, and Sylvie shakes her head. 

Mr. G walks in then, holding two cans of Redbull, shouting, “Alright, people, let’s get this over with.”

Class feels like it goes by slower than usual, and the whole time, PJ keeps hearing the faint scuff of one of Hazel’s converse scraping the floor as she kicks it back and forth, and the faint, constant sound of it is inexplicably comforting.

Later, when PJ and Josie go to their lockers, Isabel sneaks up behind Josie and covers her eyes. “Guess who!”

Josie grins and reaches up to grab Isabel’s hands from her face. “Oh my god, who could it possibly be?”

Isabel turns her around, giggling and bouncing on her feet. “It’s me. Hi.”

“Hi.” Josie shuts her locker and leans in to kiss Isabel’s cheek. “Oh, you smell good.”

“You like it?” Isabel twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “It's a new scent. It’s called vanilla sunset.”

“Vanilla sunset?” Josie repeats, her voice dropping. She leans back against her locker and pulls Isabel closer by her waist.

“Yeah, vanilla sunset,” Isabel says softly, and then she and Josie’s faces start inching closer together.

PJ pulls her physics textbook out of her locker and cringes. “Don’t be gross, guys.”

"Shut up, PJ," Josie says, with zero bite, and without looking away from Isabel.

PJ decides to be mature and not say anything for once. She is happy for Josie and Isabel, after all. Thrilled. Overjoyed.

“Hey, PJ?” 

PJ turns, in the middle of zipping up her backpack, to see Hazel standing there. “Hey.”

“Can we talk?” Hazel shifts from one foot to the other, and she absently runs her fingers over the spine of the notebook she’s holding. She has nice hands, strong-looking—she can throw a decent punch, after all—and bruises healing on her knuckles. One of her silver rings catches the light.

PJ blinks and looks back up at Hazel’s face. “Um, I’m kind of busy.” She’s not. She just has physics class, which she doesn’t give a fuck about. “What do you want to talk about?”

“About what happened the other night.” Hazel’s grip tightens on her notebook. “Specifically, what happened between you and me, I mean.”

Josie clears her throat and takes an awkward step to the side. “We’re gonna go to the vending machines. See you at lunch, guys.” She and Isabel walk away, fingers linked. Josie makes eye contact with PJ and gives her an emphatic look, as if to say, Be nice.

“See you,” PJ says. She watches Josie and Isabel turn the corner, and then she turns back to Hazel. “Look, Hazel, it’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about. That whole night was, like, a freak event, so we can chalk it up to that.”

Hazel blinks a few times, and her face falls a little bit. “Oh. Okay.”

PJ almost feels bad about it, but she’s doing Hazel a favor, really. “I’ll see you at fight club later.”

“See you,” Hazel says.

PJ turns and walks away before she changes her own mind. It’s for the best this way, and whatever Hazel wants from her would probably be a disaster. But maybe in a few months, they’ll both get drunk at a party and hook up or something. That wouldn’t be so bad. Especially since Josie may never have time to hang out with PJ ever again now that she has Isabel, who she will inevitably like one thousand times more than she likes her lame best friend.

Growing up, Hazel had wondered about her first kiss and what it would be like. She’d wondered who it would be with and where it would happen–maybe near a bonfire or something, somewhere quiet but warm and glowing, or maybe it would be in the grass while stargazing. 

Hazel had come close to kissing people before. A guy named Patrick tried to kiss her at a party freshman year, and she dodged it and played dumb and challenged him to an arm wrestling contest, which she won. He’d kind of hated her after that. Then a couple years later, Stella Rebecca wanted “practice” and asked to kiss Hazel, but Hazel respectfully told her she didn’t like her that way.

Hazel had never thought her first kiss would be with PJ. She never would have dared to even imagine kissing PJ, and even when PJ came running toward her and slammed their lips together, it didn't feel real. At first, Hazel had no idea what to do with her mouth or with her hands, and their noses bumped into each other. But then it felt more natural, like a push and pull where they could meet each other in the middle, and PJ’s mouth softened just a little, and Hazel tilted her head and leaned into it. Her lip was still bruised, and the kiss ached, but the ache deepened and turned hot.

That night, after the game and the fight and the explosion, Hazel laid in her bed and looked at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling and went over the night in her head, like it was a tape that she could rewind again and again to get another taste of PJ’s mouth. Of the warmth of PJ's skin when Hazel cupped her neck, and how the sounds of the crowd and the football players and the music and the distant cars and sprinklers and crickets all sort of faded away. Hazel hadn’t known a kiss could be like that.

At school, unfortunately, PJ is too busy to talk about it. She seems almost…shy. But Hazel knows better than to think that PJ would be shy. She really hopes they’ll have a chance to talk about it soon. She wants to kiss PJ again. She wants the chance to do it without an audience, to do it slower, maybe. If PJ wants to, too.

When Hazel leaves the gym after school, she sees PJ outside the parking lot. PJ is sitting on the curb, with her backpack open next to her, covered in an open textbook and a pile of half-crumpled homework, which PJ isn’t paying attention to because she seems to be staring vacantly into the parking lot, lost in her own thoughts.

Hazel walks up to her. “Hi, PJ!”

PJ jumps a little, then relaxes when she sees it’s Hazel. “Oh, hey.”

“What’re you doing over here all by yourself?”

“Oh, just meditating,” PJ deadpans. 

“Really? Can I meditate with you?”

“It’s kind of a solitary activity.”

Hazel drops her backpack on the curb and sits next to PJ. “Nah, people meditate in groups and stuff all the time.”

PJ sighs. “Fine, whatever.”

Hazel leans back on her hands and tilts her head back, letting the weak autumn sunlight warm her face. “Why isn’t Josie with you? I bet she’d meditate with you.”

PJ snorts. “Nah, she’s with Isabel.”

“Oh. Doesn’t she usually drive you home?” 

“Yeah. My car is in the shop. Indefinitely, it seems like.”

Hazel fidgets with the shoelace on one of her converse. “Do you need a ride?”

PJ shakes her head. “No. I’ll walk. It’s not far.”

“Where do you live?”

PJ tilts her head. “Wow, Hazel, creepy much?”

“Oh, sorry, never mind.”

PJ chuckles. “I’m messing with you. I live by Oakstown.”

Hazel sits up. “But that’s three and a half miles away.”

“No, it’s not.”

“3.4 miles, technically, but–”

“How can you possibly know that off the top of your head?” PJ demands, uncrossing her legs. 

Hazel shrugs. “I used to bike a lot.”

PJ folds her arms over her knees. “What, for fun? I haven't ridden a bike since I was like eleven years old.”

“Well, 3.4 miles is a moderate length for a bike ride, but it's really long for a walk. After a whole day at school and the club and stuff. Aren’t you tired?”

PJ laughs, but it sounds hollow.

Hazel reaches out to brush PJ’s shoulder, and the sleeve of her vintage t-shirt is worn soft. “Hey. Are you okay?”

PJ tenses at the contact, but then she relaxes. “Why are you always asking that?”

“Because I want to know,” Hazel says honestly.

“Whatever, Mother Teresa. I’m fine.” PJ shrugs off Hazel’s hand. She tugs her backpack between her legs and starts to shove her textbook and papers back inside it haphazardly. 

“Okay,” Hazel says carefully. It’s hard to figure out what to say to PJ sometimes, because she’s harder to predict than other people Hazel knows. 

PJ rolls her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.” She crumples a page of messy notes and pushes it down to the bottom of her backpack aggressively, as if it’s done something to offend her. “Stop being so fucking nice. Why don’t you just fucking yell at me or something?”

Hazel’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would I yell at you?”

“Because I deserve it!” PJ pushes her ponytail aggressively over her shoulder and crosses her arms. “Why else? I know you want to.”

Hazel shakes her head. “I don’t want to yell at you.”

PJ rubs at her face with one hand and mutters something inaudible.

Hazel wants to reach over and tug her hand away and tell her to be gentle with her skin, but she knows that would probably be crossing a boundary, so she curls her hands in her lap instead. “I don’t think you deserve to be yelled at, you know. Maybe you should talk to someone.”

PJ looks vacantly at the asphalt in front of them, where there’s a long skid mark from one of the times Jeff did a donut in the parking lot. PJ’s eyes seem to unfocus a little, looking slightly lost. “Josie’s busy.”

“You can talk to me.”

PJ frowns. “That’s really funny, Hazel.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was being serious.” Hazel bumps their shoulders together gently. “Hey, are you hungry?”

PJ nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to go to Mcdonalds? My car’s here, I’ll drive.”

PJ chews on her lip. “I don’t have any money on me.”

“I can pay–”

“You are not going to buy me McDonald’s.” PJ glares at her as if Hazel just suggested they go get matching heart tattoos. 

Hazel pouts, just a little. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Are you too proud? We can take turns! It could be an IOU for next time.”

PJ crosses her arms. “Forget it. I’m not even hungry.” Almost cinematically, her stomach growls audibly as soon as she says it.

Hazel grins. “Oh my god.”

PJ blushes. “That was not–”

“Come on,” Hazel says, probably looking way too happy about this. “The universe wants it to happen.”

PJ rolls her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fine. But this isn’t…we’re not…”

Hazel tilts her head. “We’re not what?”

PJ shakes her head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

They do go to McDonald’s, and Hazel buys herself chicken nuggets and gets a cheeseburger for PJ, and they split a large fry. It’s mostly empty inside the restaurant, so it’s just the sounds of the kitchen and the jazz music playing faintly over the speakers.

PJ takes a big bite of her cheeseburger, and she gets a bit of mustard by the corner of her mouth.

Hazel stifles a smile and pushes the pile of napkins towards her. “Is it good?”

PJ nods enthusiastically. 

“Good.” Hazel dips one of her nuggets in ketchup and eats it, feeling satisfied. It’s nice to get food with people. Hazel’s used to eating alone, especially for dinner, because her mom’s either not at home, or she’s with some guy. Hazel also likes being the one to buy the food. It feels like she’s taking care of PJ a little bit. Just a little.

PJ’s combat boot knocks into Hazel’s converse under the table. “I see you still get nuggets like a fifth grader.”

Hazel smiles. “Yeah, I do. They make me happy.”

PJ reaches over and takes a fry, and she dips it in Hazel’s ketchup before she pops it in her mouth. After she’s swallowed it, she yawns, her mouth opening comically wide, like the way cats yawn. Hazel doesn’t know why her brain makes that comparison.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Hazel asks.

PJ takes a sip of her water. “I slept fine. Sleep just doesn’t help that much.”

“What d’you mean?”

PJ shrugs. “I think I have insomnia or something. I used to sleep over at Josie’s a lot. But then she became enamored with Isabel, and now they're together, so it'll only get worse. When she’s not with Isabel, she’s on the phone with Isabel.” She wrinkles her nose. “It’s like they’re merging.”

“Yeah. They really like each other.”

“I noticed,” PJ mutters. She takes a long sip of water.

“I’m sure Josie will still make time for you soon,” Hazel says. “Her and Isabel just got together, so they’re in their honeymoon phase. That’s what Brittany said.”

PJ shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need Josie to spend all her time with me. I have tons of other stuff to do.”

“Well, she’s your best friend, so it makes sense if you miss her.”

“I don’t miss her,” PJ says defensively. “I just saw her an hour ago.”

Hazel nods. She’s not sure what else PJ would be upset about, and it also doesn’t seem like PJ wants to talk about it. “Do you want to go to my house?”

PJ blinks, like she can’t believe Hazel just said that. “To your house?”

Hazel opens a new packet of ketchup. “Yeah. We can watch a movie. Or play games, if you want. I have an Xbox. Whatever you want to do.”

“You don’t have plans?”

“No.”

PJ chews on the straw of her water cup for several seconds. “Okay, I’ll come over. But this is not becoming a regular thing.”

Hazel smiles. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

When they get to Hazel’s house,  PJ follows Hazel into the kitchen and drops her backpack onto one of the barstools, looking around. “Damn, I don’t remember your house being this fancy.”

“Oh, yeah.” Hazel goes to the sink and turns on the faucet to wash her hands. “My mom hired this interior designer last year. I guess it was a part of her midlife crisis.”

PJ inspects a quartz sculpture of a rose that’s posed on the counter, poking at one of the petals with her fingertip. “It’s like Richie Rich’s house or something.”

“Who’s that?”

“Nobody, it’s a show that used to play on cable. Can I have a glass of water?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Hazel gets a glass out of a cabinet and presses buttons on the fridge’s fancy screen to get it to dispense water. 

PJ takes it and pretends she’s totally used to seeing a fridge with a screen on it.

Hazel takes a packet of instant popcorn from the pantry and puts it in the microwave. She gets ice cream sandwiches out of the freezer, too, before they go into the living room. The TV is playing an episode of The Bachelor.

PJ flops onto the couch and takes a big bite of her ice cream sandwich, and Hazel opens hers. Popcorn and ice cream together seems like it should be gross, but the sweetness and the butteriness go weirdly well together. PJ’s ice cream melts a little and drips onto her hand.

On the TV, the Bachelor guy is on a bench outside with a blonde woman, and he kisses her stiffly.

“Jeez,” PJ says. “This show is such a cry for help.”

“Yeah, my mom keeps rewatching it,” Hazel says. She lifts a cushion and looks around for the remote. “I don’t know why, because it seems like it makes her kind of angry.”

PJ squints at the couple kissing onscreen. “That guy looks like he’s trying to suck that woman’s soul out through her mouth or something.”

Hazel laughs as she pulls the remote out from under another cushion. “Maybe she likes it?”

“Soul sucking?” PJ pauses, then reaches for a handful of popcorn. “Well, there’s a kink for everything.”

Hazel pulls up Netflix and scrolls down. “What do you want to watch?”

PJ glances over a row of movies. “You could put on Spiderman.”

Hazel puts on Spiderman. It’s the 2002 version, and the movie opens as Peter Parker and his classmates show up at their field trip to the laboratory where Peter will be bitten by the spider that will change his life forever.

As Peter is taking pictures of Mary Jane, PJ sighs. “Kirsten Dunst is so hot.”

Hazel smiles. “Yeah, she is really pretty.”

“Especially with her hair that color. The red kind of makes her eyes sparkle.”

They don’t talk much after that, and they take turns taking popcorn out of the bowl as the movie plays. A few times, their fingers brush anyway, and Hazel pulls back as if it isn’t her own bowl in her own house. It’s kind of sweet.

Late into the movie, there’s the scene where Mary Jane kisses Spiderman as he’s upside down. She slides his mask down and leans in tenderly, and they kiss as rain pours down their bodies.

PJ vaguely wonders how someone could recreate that in real life, but then Hazel says, “That looks really uncomfortable. I think water is getting in his nose.”

PJ shrugs. “It’s the most iconic kiss in film history, so I’m sure it was worth it.”

“I don’t think it’s the best kiss,” Hazel says. “The blood is probably rushing to his head.”

PJ rolls her eyes. “That doesn’t matter.”

Hazel looks at her over the popcorn bowl. “Have you kissed someone upside down before?”

PJ swallows a sharp piece of popcorn and coughs a little. “No. I probably will eventually, though.”

Hazel nods thoughtfully. “I would want to be the upright person, not the upside down one.”

“Okay, but I don’t think anyone’s going to ask you to do that. Although, you are a decent kisser,” PJ adds, without thinking. As soon as she says it, she wants to kick herself.

Hazel turns, eyes brightening. “You think so?”

PJ sighs and pushes Hazel’s hand away from the popcorn. “Don’t let it go to your head. I didn’t say it was mind-blowing, just that it was good.”

Hazel lets PJ eat the last of the popcorn, smiling. “I liked it, too.”

PJ’s stomach flips, and she ignores it. “Obviously.”

“It was a really good first kiss,” Hazel says. 

On screen, Spiderman saves a baby from a burning apartment and jumps down to return it to its mother.

PJ turns.  “Wait, what? That was your first first kiss?”

Hazel raises her eyebrows. “Yeah.”

PJ slumps back down. “Oh. I didn’t know that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Hazel nods, unoffended. “Yeah, I’ve never dated anyone. When we were kids, Stella-Rebecca said that if neither of us had dated by ninth grade, we should date each other, but she had a boyfriend by then.”

“There’s no way Stella-Rebecca isn’t a dyke.” PJ shakes her head. “And I can’t believe I was your first kiss.”

Hazel smiles. “I’m glad you were. Like I said, it was a good first kiss. Some people’s first kisses are really gross. So, I got kind of lucky.”

“You’re so weird.” PJ tries to loosen her voice and make her tone sound dismissive, but she can’t bring herself to look away from the TV. In her peripheral vision, she feels Hazel looking at her like the eye contact is a physical touch. “Hazel.”

“Yeah?”

“I can feel you looking at me.”

“Sorry. I’ll stop.” Hazel looks away, and PJ watches the yellowish light from the TV flicker over her face and the bruise fading around her eye.

Hazel has nice eyes. They’re blue-green and kind of big and soft, framed by the feathery ends of her bangs. She fidgets with the hem of her jean shorts with one hand. On her other hand, she turns the ring on her index finger in slow circles with the pad of her thumb. 

On the night that they kissed, Hazel’s fingers had slid to PJ’s nape and underneath her ponytail. Her palm had cupped PJ’s neck as she softened the kiss. PJ’s whole body kind of softened, too. PJ is used to snapping at people. She yells and glares and argues. She doesn’t soften.

PJ bites her lip, hard, as if the sting will push the memory away, but it doesn’t, and she doesn’t really want it to. She doesn’t know where to put the feeling. 

Now, on the couch, Hazel flicks her bangs out of her eyes, but they fall right back in place. She glances over at PJ, and when she sees PJ is looking at her, she looks all the way at her, with her stupid soft eyes. 

PJ’s throat goes dry, and she can’t look away.

“What?” Hazel asks. Her eyes flick to PJ’s mouth, just once. 

PJ sits up. “Nothing, I just…”

Hazel looks at her expectantly, and her eyes flick down, this time to PJ’s collar. “Your necklace.”

PJ blinks. “What?”

“The clasp.” Hazel reaches out and takes the pendant of PJ’s necklace so she can slide the clasp back up to the back of PJ’s neck, fingertips grazing her skin. “There.”

PJ looks down at her BFF heart pendant, which is tiny in Hazel’s hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Hazel murmurs. She lets go of PJ’s necklace. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

PJ leans in before she’s even finished asking, and Hazel’s eyes flutter closed as their lips slot together, and then they’re kissing like it’s muscle memory, like only a second has passed since the first time it happened on Friday night. 

Hazel opens her mouth, and PJ’s bottom lip slides against Hazel’s top lip, and Hazel slides her fingers into the hair at the nape of PJ’s neck, so her thumb slots behind PJ’s jaw, just like she did the first time, and kisses her, and kisses her, and kisses her.

Her mouth is warm and tastes like vanilla ice cream, and she eases the pace and kisses PJ so slowly that her breath hitches, and Hazel chases the sound, teeth grazing PJ’s bottom lip, and PJ can’t contain the soft sound that escapes her mouth. 

PJ wraps her fingers around Hazel’s wrist as she breaks for air.

When Hazel looks at PJ, her pupils are a little blown.

PJ blinks rapidly, and her eyes catch on Hazel’s pink, kiss-swollen lips. She tears her eyes away and looks at one of the throw pillows instead, but it doesn’t calm her heart rate, so she blurts, “I have to pee.”

“Okay.” Hazel moves immediately, scooting over to give her space, and points across to the hall. “The bathroom’s the second door in the hall.” She stands. “I can show you—”

PJ shakes her head and pushes Hazel back down. “No, it’s okay, I’ll find it.”

PJ finds the bathroom and locks the door behind her. The bathroom walls are painted sea green, and it smells like someone spilled an entire bottle of lemongrass air freshener on the fuzzy floor mat, and that’s definitely why PJ feels a little lightheaded. That’s definitely why.

When she’s done, PJ walks back to the living room. Hazel has paused the movie and sits waiting for her, legs folded. Her crew socks are red with orange stripes. She turns the remote over and over in her hands. “Is everything okay?” 

PJ sits down, leaving another foot of space between them this time. “Yeah. Fine. My head just hurts a little.”

Hazel’s eyebrows furrow. “Do you want some Tylenol?”

PJ slumps back into the couch cushions. “No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Before PJ answers, the front door opens and slams shut, and someone’s heels click on the hardwood in the entryway. “Hazel, are you home?”

Hazel looks over her shoulder. “Hey, Mom. I’m in the living room. PJ’s here, too.”

“Is PJ the one who--” Mrs. Callahan walks in and raises her eyes when she sees PJ. “Oh, hello.”

PJ waves awkwardly. “Hi, Mrs. Callahan.”

Mrs. Callahan’s eye twitches a little, but she smiles at Hazel. “Well, darling, I’m going upstairs. I’m meeting someone for dinner, so you should order something in, alright? Or just, you know, do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Hazel says, and she opens her mouth to say something else, but Mrs. Callahan has already turned and started walking up to the staircase. 

PJ clears her throat. “She seems…nice.”

Hazel shrugs. “She’s been trying to make it up to me ever since the Jeff stuff.”

“That’s her making it up to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, she said she was sorry. She’s dating a new guy, and she goes to his house instead of bringing him here, so that’s something.”

“That’s kind of the bare minimum, Hazel. My mom swore off dating, but if I had to listen to her fucking random dudes all the time, I would probably develop major issues,” PJ says, despite the fact that she already has at least a few major issues, according to the therapists she saw growing up.

Hazel shrugs. “It sucks sometimes, but it's not that bad.”

PJ gives her a look. “I think you need to stand up for yourself more.”

Hazel brings one leg up to her chest and hugs it. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you know, don’t let people walk all over you. You’re a little too nice sometimes.”

“I like being nice to people. Why wouldn’t I?”

PJ tilts her head back on the couch. “Well, people fuck each other over. Everyone lets everyone down eventually. You have to watch out for your own interests.”

Hazel’s mouth drops open. “PJ, that’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. That’s really, really cynical.”

PJ puts her hands up. “I’m being realistic.”

“But if you think about it,” Hazel says, “if everyone was nicer to each other instead of assuming the worst, there would be way less to be cynical about.”

“That’s a cute idea in theory, I guess.” PJ wraps her arms around her middle. “Do you have a blanket? I’m kind of cold.” 

Hazel jumps up. “Oh yeah, here. The AC is pretty low.” She reaches around the couch and grabs a fluffy throw blankets from a basket against the wall. She unfolds it and drapes it over PJ carefully.

PJ tucks it around herself. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

PJ almost wants to yell at her for being so ridiculously nice after PJ keeps telling her why she shouldn’t. But maybe it really does just make her happy. “You should unpause the movie now.”

Hazel presses play on the remote, and on screen, Peter clings to his bedroom ceiling to avoid being discovered by Norman Osborn.

PJ gets more sleep that night, and she feels more well-rested the next day. At school, when she walks into first period with Josie, she even smiles a little when Hazel waves at her. This time, Josie and the other girls don’t make it weird by staring at them or pointing it out, except for Sylvie.

At lunch, they’re out of chocolate pudding, so PJ has to get vanilla. At the table, she slams her tray down and sighs as she sits. Annie gives her the usual judgmental look of tolerance, and Josie scoots over to make room for her. “I really think this cafeteria is cursed.”

Sylvie’s eyes widen, and she stops eating her sandwich. “Yeah, dude, I think so too.”  

Josie rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s a public school cafeteria, of course it’s cursed. This whole institution is cursed, that’s why we have to stick together. Where’s Hazel?

PJ peels the lid off her pudding cup. “I have no idea, why are you asking me?”

Isabel smiles, and Josie purses her lips. “Well.”

“Well, what?”

“You and Hazel kissed at the game last week,” Sylvie blurts, gripping onto the edges of her lunch tray. “And she said you guys hung out.”

PJ squints at her. “Yeah, thanks for that recap, Sylvie.”

“So, what’s going on with you and her?” Josie asks, her tone overly casual.

PJ swallows a bite of pudding. “What? There is nothing going on with me and Hazel.”

Josie and Isabel exchange a look, and then Josie says, “Hazel has been looking at you even more than usual. And you used to hardly look at her at all, but now when you see her, you get kind of fidgety.”

PJ makes a face. “That’s ridiculous, I don’t fidget. I just have mosquito bites. They’re itchy as fuck.”

“Sure,” Josie drawls.

Sylvie does air quotes with her fingers as Annie repeats, “Mosquito bites?”

Isabel giggles. 

PJ ignores them and takes another bite of pudding.

“Hey, guys,” Hazel says.

Their heads all snap up to look at her, and PJ coughs a little on her pudding.

“Hey, Hazel!” Sylvie says. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Did you hear us talking to your girlfriend about you?” Annie asks, smiling smugly.

Hazel sets her lunch tray down next to PJs and sits awkwardly. “Oh, we’re not—”

PJ clears her throat. “Yeah, no, absolutely not. Don’t you have a Bible to read or something, Annie?”

“No,” Annie says sweetly. “But maybe you should try reading it sometime, do you want to borrow a copy?”

PJ takes another bite of pudding and swallows. “No, thanks. Pretty sure it’s too late for me, anyway.”

“Actually, it’s never too late to open yourself to the holy spirit,” Annie says, pouring dressing over her Caesar salad. “I have a box of beginner’s study Bibles in my car if anyone’s interested. Are you sure you’re not interested, PJ?”

“Jeez, it’s like you think I need divine intervention or something.”

Josie stifles a laugh in between bites of her sandwich.

“What about the rest of you?” Annie asks. “Hazel?”

Hazel’s mouth hangs open for a second, and she stutters, “Sure. Um. I’d love one.”

PJ shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Annie scowls at her. “That’s up to her, not you, PJ.”

PJ rolls her eyes and gestures with her plastic spoon. “She doesn’t actually want to read the Bible, Annie. She obviously just said that to make you happy.”

Annie tightens her jaw, her eyes looking livid, but then she reconsiders and turns to Hazel, “Is that true?”

Hazel nods sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Annie raises her eyebrows. “You can only find God through your own conviction, Hazel, not someone else’s. When that time comes, I’ll be happy to help you.”

Hazel nods. “Okay, um…thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever.” PJ kicks Hazel’s foot under the table. “See, Hazel, you gotta stand up for yourself. Being too nice could get you dead in a ditch somewhere, or in a Bible study or something.”

“Sounds serious,” Hazel says as she pokes at her fruit salad. 

“Anyways.” PJ turns to Josie. “Josie, can you help me study for the physics test tomorrow?”

Josie is whispering something into Isabel’s ear as Isabel giggles quietly, but she turns and says, “Sorry, but we have a date night tonight.”

PJ gives her a slightly puzzled look. “On a Thursday?”

“Yeah,” Isabel says dreamily, and she runs her hand down Josie’s arm. “I really love Thursday nights, there’s just something about it.”

“I like that you like Thursday nights,” Josie says, smiling back at her girlfriend.

PJ pretends to gag a little bit, and Sylvie laughs.

“Okay, great, have fun,” PJ says, stabbing her spoon into her pudding. “I’ll just do whatever, I guess.”

“I can study with you,” Hazel says. “I took physics last year. I have color-coded notes and flashcards.”

PJ looks at her, eyes widening a little. “Oh. Thanks, Hazel, but—”

“Wow, that’s perfect,” Josie says, nodding. “Hazel knows way more about physics than I do.”

PJ shoots Josie a look. “Okay. Great. Yeah. We should totally study together, Hazel.”

“Great!” Hazel says, too genuinely. It makes PJ feel good and a little bit sick at the same time. Not sick like she needs to throw up, but sick like she can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe she needs to splash cold water on her face, or start a fight, or maybe go sit under the bleachers for all of fifth period like she and Josie used to do in eighth grade.

“PJ, I think you should calm down,” Josie says after school, dropping her backpack into the back of her ancient Subaru. In the parking lot, seniors are pulling out of their parking spots, and a group of freshmen are doing skateboarding tricks over the bumper blocks.

“I have literally never been calmer in my life,” PJ argues, crossing her arms. This is the first time in days that she’s been able to talk to Josie without Isabel there.

Josie leans against the side of her car. “You came up to me panicking about having to go to Hazel’s house, so…I’m just saying. It’s okay that you like her, because she obviously likes y—”

“I do not—Just because we kissed doesn’t mean—I mean—“ PJ leans against the side of the car. “She’s not my type.”

Josie nods emphatically. “Well, yes, because historically, your ‘type’ has always been straight girls. Hazel likes girls, which is good, since you are one.”

“God, Josie, you just don’t get it.”

Josie tilts her head and looks skeptical. “I think you might be nervous, and I totally do get being nervous.”

PJ scowls. “I am not nervous.”

Josie raises her hands. “Alright, alright, you’re cool as a cucumber.” She smiles and plays with the carabiner on her car keys. “Look, this is good, just be yourself. But like, that slightly nicer version of yourself, you know?”

PJ groans and knocks her head into the car.

“Okay, don’t hurt yourself. Oh, hey, Hazel.”

PJ looks up, startled.

Hazel walks up to them, her backpack hanging off one shoulder. “Hey, Josie. Hey, PJ. Did you guys have a good last period?”

“It was great. Free period. Well, you guys have fun studying and stuff, alright?” Josie smiles and gets into the driver’s seat to start her car.

Hazel twists the strap of her backpack and looks at PJ. “Do you still want to study? We can go to my house again.”

For some reason, PJ can’t speak for a second, but she nods. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

Hazel nods back, smiling. “Okay. Let’s go to my car.”

Chapter Text

In the school parking lot, PJ and Hazel get into Hazel’s car. Hazel puts on her seatbelt and turns the key in the ignition, but she feels sort of restless. She can’t stop her thumbs from tapping at the steering wheel, and she tries not to stare at PJ in the passenger seat.

PJ has her head down as she texts someone. She bats away a lock of hair that’s fallen out of her braid and then goes back to typing. Her hair is always a little messy. It was worse in elementary and middle school, when she would often miss strands of hair in between her pigtails. Hazel remembers sitting behind her as PJ twisted one of her pigtails around her fist.

Hazel puts her hand on the gearshift, drumming her fingertips. “Hey, PJ?”

Surprisingly, PJ actually glances up from her phone for a second. “Yeah?”

“I need to ask you something.”

PJ nods distractedly. “Okay, go ahead.”

Hazel has no idea how to actually phrase what it is she wants to ask PJ, just that she wants to talk about what’s happening between them. She loves spending time with PJ and kissing PJ, but it feels weird to not actually talk about what it is they’re doing. Maybe PJ doesn’t actually like her and was just kissing her to be nice. Hazel should probably ask if they can clarify the whole situation.

PJ is still typing on her phone, but she glances up at Hazel again. “What?”

Hazel opens her mouth to answer, but there’s a thump against the passenger side of the car, and they both turn to see Jeff’s best friend, Tim, standing there in his football uniform. He braces his arms on either side of the window and looks at them sternly.

“What does this dickhead want?” PJ asks. She reaches over and rolls the window down.

Tim looks past her and glares at Hazel. “You need to move this car.”

“Sure,” Hazel says. “We were just about to leave.”

PJ shakes her head and squints at Tim. “You can’t just demand for her to move. This is Hazel’s parking spot.”

Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, like PJ tests his patience. “I need this spot for Jeff’s car, so he doesn’t have to walk under the trees when he leaves practice. There’s so much pollen in the air on the other side of the parking lot where he usually parks.”

PJ throws her arm out to point in the row of spots across from them, and Tim jumps as if she were about to hit him. “There’s an open spot right there, are you blind?”

Tim crosses his arms. “This spot is better, and I’m not even talking to you, I’m talking to Heather.”

Hazel folds her arms over the steering wheel. “That’s n—”

“Her name is Hazel,” PJ says, leaning out her window now. “We’re leaving, so you can have the stupid spot, but only because Hazel’s nice and we have somewhere to be anyway, got it?”

Tim frowns at her, but he looks chastened, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Fine. Good.”

PJ sits back into her seat and pulls her seatbelt on. She rolls her window back up and turns to Hazel. “Okay, let’s go now before he starts whining again.”

Hazel bites away a smile. “Okay. Do you want to listen to music?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Hazel hooks her phone up to the aux and puts on one of her driving playlists. As she pulls out of the parking lot, soft synth starts to play over the radio speakers.

PJ props her feet up on the dash. 

“Oh, you shouldn’t do that,” Hazel says.

“Why?”

“It’s really dangerous if there’s an accident.” Hazel looks both ways before pulling onto the road. “Because of the airbags. It could break your legs, or dislocate your hips, or push your kneecaps into your eyes.”

“Jesus, Hazel, are you planning on crashing this car?” PJ asks. She drops her legs back into the footwell.

Hazel shakes her head. “No, I just—”

“Are you playing Tegan and Sara right now?” PJ asks, tilting her head toward the radio.

A voice floats from the car speaker, singing, “Led you astray, I won't deny it, I did what they thought would be good for me…”

“Oh, yeah,” Hazel says, reaching for the volume dial. “Do you want to listen to something else?”

“No, it’s fine.” PJ sits up and bats Hazel’s hand away so she can turn the volume up. “You’re just a huge gay stereotype.”

Hazel laughs a little. “What? It’s just a playlist.”

“A gay playlist. God, I haven’t listened to Tegan and Sara since I was, like, thirteen.” PJ winces a little when she says ‘thirteen.’

“That was only five years ago.”

“Might as well be a different lifetime,” PJ says. She rolls her window down and sticks her arm out as the song plays.

Do you cry? Oh, do your worst

Do you talk? Oh do your worst

I couldn't be your friend even if I tried again

When they get to Hazel’s house, they eat hot pockets in the kitchen and then go upstairs to Hazel’s room. PJ drops her backpack at the foot of Hazel’s bed and looks up at the posters on the wall—there’s an old Doctor Who poster and an art print of The Scream above Hazel’s bed.

“Your room still looks the way it did in seventh grade,” PJ says, looking down at Hazel’s galaxy patterned bedspread. “Remember when we had that sleepover? With Josie and that other girl who moved away?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I can’t believe I forgot about that.” PJ takes off her combat boots and kicks them out of her way. She pokes at the blue lava lamp on Hazel’s dresser, then pulls her hand away when she feels how hot it is. Then she leaves to go to the bathroom.

Hazel takes her converse off and takes her notes and pencil case out of her backpack. She looks up when PJ comes back.

PJ has taken her hair out of its ponytail, and it frames her face in thick, frizzy waves, softening her features and highlighting the gold-brown flecks in her eyes. She flops down on the bed across from Hazel and opens her backpack to pull out her battered physics textbook. It’s the wrong edition. “I have no idea how I’m going to cram for this stupid test.” As if she can sense Hazel’s eyes on her, she looks up. “What? What’s your problem?”

Hazel has been staring, she realizes, so she snaps out of it and slips her backpack off her shoulder and onto the end of the bed. “Nothing, sorry. I just never see you with your hair down.”

PJ’s hand goes up to her hair. “Oh.” She reaches into the sleeve of her jacket, starting to pull the hair tie off her wrist.

“Don’t put it up,” Hazel says, without thinking.

PJ stops, the hair tie around her fingers, and she narrows her eyes at Hazel slightly. “Why not?”

Hazel feels her eyes widen. “Sorry, never mind. I shouldn’t tell you—I mean, obviously it’s your hair, you should wear it how you want to.”

PJ props her elbow on her knee, resting her chin in her hand as she surveys Hazel. “Yeah, duh.”

Hazel feels her cheeks warm. “It looks nice down, though. You look different.”

The corners of PJ’s eyes crinkle a little, and her lips quirk. She slides the hair tie back onto her wrist and looks down at the textbook in front of her. “You’re weird, Hazel.”

“I know,” Hazel says, relieved that PJ’s not mad, but also confused. There was a time when PJ would’ve told her to shut up for less than that.

But PJ leaves her hair down, and it falls around her face like a wavy curtain as she leans down to scribble something in her tattered notebook with a purple pen. PJ’s face softens with concentration, instead of hardening like most people’s expressions when they’re focused on something.

Hazel plugs her phone in at her nightstand and puts on a playlist of instrumental music, because music without words is better for studying. They go over the study guide for PJ’s physics test, and PJ’s pen scratches in her notebook get increasingly more frustrated.

She groans and flops onto her back, and her hair tumbles over the edge of the bed. “I’m not going to pass this stupid test.”

Hazel shuffles a stack of flashcards and shakes her head. “Of course you’ll pass. You can’t just give up.”

“I just did. This stuff makes no sense.”

“Which part?”

PJ mumbles, “Number 14 on the study guide.”

Hazel picks up the crinkled paper study guide and smooths it out on top of PJ’s notebook. “Oh, the one about interference?”

PJ just groans again, folding her arms over her face. “I’m going to drop out.”

“I think that would be a waste. You have to give yourself more credit.”

PJ uncovers her face and glares at Hazel. 

Hazel just smiles and picks up her pencil. “Here, look, I’ll show you.”

“Show me what?” PJ grumbles.

Hazel flips to a blank page of her notebook and draws three parallel lines, and then she starts to sketch out the different waves. 

PJ sits up begrudgingly, crossing her legs and scooting closer to watch Hazel draw.

Hazel points her pencil at the first and second wave. “See, these waves combine to create a third wave, which we know. That’s interference. The third one is the combined displacements of the first two. And if they meet out of phase, they cancel each other out and make a smaller amplitude wave. But when they are in phase, where the crests and troughs meet, they become a new wave with a bigger amplitude.” Hazel quickly sketches a third wave to demonstrate the constructive interference. “See?”

“Oh.” PJ’s eyes scan over the three waves, then she looks up at Hazel. “What the fuck.”

Hazel looks up, too, startled. “What?”

“You’re smart.”

Hazel’s face warms, and she looks back down at the notebook. “Oh. Thanks, but it’s all in the textbook.”

“Shut up, just take the compliment.” PJ reaches for her study guide to read the next section. “I guess I should’ve known you had a freakish thing about science when we saw you assemble and set off literal bombs. How did you get into that, anyway?”

Hazel smiles. “I started making my own fireworks when I was nine, and it kind of evolved from there.”

PJ raises her eyebrows. “Shit would get dark so fast if you weren’t you. It’s a good thing you have your powers and not some sicko extremist in Texas.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good.”

After Hazel loans her a pencil so she can erase things if she needs to, PJ seems even less discouraged than she was before. They study quietly for a while, with just the music and the sound of PJ flipping through her textbook pages. Hazel finishes her assigned reading for economics, and then she does some of the problems in her calculus workbook.

Eventually, PJ looks up and asks, “What time is it?”

Hazel glances at the spaceship-shaped alarm clock on her nightstand. “Six forty-seven.”

PJ puts the pencil down and stretches her arms over her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever studied so long at once in my entire life.”

“Do you feel more prepared for the test now?”

“Yeah, actually.” PJ yawns and rolls her eyes. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell you if I have another opportunity for you to show off how proficient you are in physics.”

Hazel’s stomach actually gets a little fluttery when PJ says the word proficient, which is weird, but she distracts herself by fiddling with her mini spaceship-shaped pencil sharpener. “I didn’t want to show off. I wanted to help.”

“I know, I was joking. You always want to help.” PJ flips her textbook closed and pushes it down the bed before she lays down. “You did help. But I’ve had enough physics for tonight, and I’m kind of hungry again.”

Hazel sets her flashcards and notes aside, too. “Do you want a snack, or something to drink?”

“What do you have?” 

“We have pretzels. Regular or chocolate covered ones. And Coke. Regular, diet, and cherry. And there’s—” 

“You don’t have to list literally everything in your kitchen,” PJ says, smiling. “But that stuff sounds like my ten-year-old self’s wet dream.”

“You had wet dreams about pretzels and Coke?”

PJ snorts, and her eyes close like she’s about to fall asleep. “Yes, Hazel, I did actually. So many about those cinnamon sugar soft pretzels that they sell at the mall.”

“Oh, yeah, those are delicious. I don’t have those here.”

PJ laughs a little. “You’re so dumb.”

“You just said I was smart a little while ago,” Hazel reminds her.

“I spoke too soon,” PJ says. She rubs at her eyes. “Your bed is, like, annoyingly comfortable, what the heck is in this mattress?”

“Foam and ergonomic support.”

“I don’t know what economics has to do with it, and I don’t care.”

“Ergonomic, not economics.” Hazel lays down, too, on the pillow opposite from PJ. “It’s design for efficiency and comfort.”

Usually, when Hazel says something like that, PJ says it’s irrelevant or that she doesn’t care, but she just murmurs, “Mhmm, cool.” She rubs at the scrape next to her left eyebrow that’s still healing. Her eyelashes flutter as she meets Hazel’s gaze. “I should probably go home soon.”

“Okay, I can drive you,” Hazel says, ignoring the disappointed ache in her chest. “But you can stay the night, if you ever want to. I have extra toothbrushes and lots of comfy t-shirts if you need something to sleep in.”

“I mean, you’ve been with me for hours,” PJ says. “You should be sick of me by now.” The light from the window casts hazy shadows over her face, across her healing scrapes and fading bruises.

“I’m not sick of you,” Hazel says. “Are you sick of me?”

PJ frowns at her, but then her mouth softens. “No. Not even close.” The words sound nice in her voice. Not even close.

Hazel smiles. “I really want to kiss you,” she admits. “Can I?”

PJ nods and tips her chin up a little.

Hazel scoots closer, until their noses bump, and then she tilts her head and kisses just the corner of PJ’s mouth.

“What kind of kiss was that?” PJ asks, her breath hot on Hazel’s cheek.

“I just wanted to,” Hazel says honestly.

PJ’s breath catches, and she huffs. “Okay, now kiss me on—”

Hazel shuts her up with a kiss straight on the lips this time, and her words melt into Hazel’s mouth with a sweet noise as she kisses back.

Hazel fists a hand into PJ’s t-shirt near her waist, and it’s soft and worn, and PJ licks into Hazel’s mouth and wraps her arm around Hazel’s shoulders. She tilts her chin up like she wants to dive into Hazel’s mouth, and her free hand curls into Hazel’s hair, tugging just enough to hurt.

The ache in her scalp makes Hazel shiver, and she moans into PJ’s mouth.

PJ tugs her closer in response, pushing her body further into Hazel’s as she slips her tongue into Hazel’s mouth. 

When she starts to roll on top of Hazel, Hazel pushes back and rolls on top of her instead, grabbing PJ’s free hand and pinning her wrist down by her head.

PJ breaks the kiss, her fingers still in Hazel’s hair. “Are you topping me right now?” She has to sort of cross her eyes to look at Hazel, with their faces so close, foreheads pressed together.

Hazel can practically feel her pulse jumping. “I dunno, am I?”

Their noses bump together, and PJ kisses her again, harder this time, and it’s wet like the first time she kissed Hazel, but more deliberate. She tastes faintly of cheap coconut lip balm, and it’s perfect.

Hazel fumbles for PJ’s other hand and drags it out of her hair so she can pin that one down, too, pushing them both above PJ’s head while they make out, and PJ lets her do it.

Hazel breaks the kiss and takes a breath. “Okay?”

PJ nods and lifts her head to follow Hazel’s mouth, but Hazel leans down and presses her mouth to PJ’s neck instead, kissing underneath her jaw.

PJ shivers at the contact and gasps. “Hazel.”

Hazel can feel the vibration of her name in PJ’s throat as she mouths at the warm spot beneath PJ’s jaw. She hums in response.

When PJ tugs her back up, Hazel lifts her head and smiles, kisses PJ on the mouth, and nips at her bottom lip. She pulls back enough to look at her.

PJ’s chest rises and falls as her breathing slows back down. Her hair is tangled across the pillow, messy and golden brown. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are damp. She looks at Hazel and rolls her wrists in Hazel’s grasp, and a smile flickers over her lips.

Hazel smiles back. “You kind of look like a painting.”

“What?” PJ asks, sounding out of breath. “Fuck off—Did you read that in a book or something?”

Hazel shakes her head. “No.”

“Okay.” PJ looks at her for a long time. She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Just so you know, you don’t have to do that.”

Hazel lets go of her and sits back. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just mean, you don’t have to bullshit me.”

Hazel’s face scrunches up. “What? What are you talking about?”

PJ shakes her head and pulls her legs up her chest. She picks at the hair tie on her wrist, snapping it against her skin a few times. “Never mind. Just forget I said anything.”

Hazel shakes her head. “I don’t want to forget about it.”

PJ scowls and throws an arm over her face. “Why not?”

“Because,” Hazel says, more forcefully than she meant to. She doesn’t know how to communicate the jumble of thoughts in her head. She runs her hand over one of the clusters of stars printed on her bedspread. “I don’t think it’s good to ignore when something bothers you.”

PJ drops her arm, and her face sort of goes still. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

PJ makes a vague gesture with her hand. “You know, hanging out with me and teaching me physics and everything.”

“Because I want to,” Hazel says. Her eyes catch on the silver clasp of PJ’s necklace chain that has slid down to sit beside its pendant, and she wants to slide it back up like she did last time. “We’re…friends.”

PJ swipes the hair out of her face and looks at Hazel’s hands. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

“And friends do things for each other. My dad used to always say that friends are even better than family because you get to choose who they are.”

PJ fiddles with the hem of her t-shirt. “Where’s your dad now?”

Hazel shrugs. “He moved to Chicago. I haven’t talked to him in a couple of weeks.”

“Do you miss him?” PJ asks.

The question surprises Hazel. Maybe she’s just not used to PJ asking questions about her. Hazel pulls one of her pillows into her lap and hugs it. “I miss how he’d take me fishing on the weekends when he wasn’t busy. And my mom’s been really sad since they got a divorce. But I also don’t think they were ever really happy together.”

“That sucks. I wonder why people get married, it seems like a world of pain.” PJ sighs. “Both our dads left us. We should start a club or something.”

Hazel tilts her head. “We already have a club for self-defense, and I don’t know if we’d have time to run two clubs.”

PJ snorts and smiles with one side of her mouth. “I was joking, Hazel.”

“Oh.” Hazel nods. “Okay. Well, I do think it’s important to acknowledge when a family member hurts you and to talk about it, so you can process your feelings and stuff.” 

PJ shrugs one shoulder. “For some people, I guess, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. The last time I saw my dad was at the end of eighth grade. Remember that dumb middle school graduation ceremony we had?”

“Yeah.”

“I asked my dad to come to the ceremony and watch me receive my stupid middle school diploma or whatever. He was late, and he didn’t get there until after my turn had already passed. And after, he said he was sorry, and he promised to make it up to me. So he took me to Chili’s and bought me one of those chocolate lava cakes.”

Hazel nods. “With the ice cream on top.”

PJ nods. “Yeah. And he wouldn’t even share it with me, so I had to eat it all by myself. Which is stupid. Because the chocolate lava cake is meant to be shared. That’s, like, the whole point of the chocolate lava cake.”

“Yeah,” Hazel says quietly.

“Anyway, I hadn’t eaten all day before that, so it gave me an upset stomach. I went to the bathroom and threw up, and when I came out, my dad was gone. He left me this voicemail saying he had an emergency out of town.” PJ snorts. “I think that’s when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. And from then on, when I called him, he never picked up. I stopped trying eventually. What’s the point if he doesn’t want to talk to me? He has a different family now, I guess.”

“That’s terrible,” Hazel says. Her chest hurts, like she can feel what PJ felt when she realized her dad would never talk to her again.

“It’s whatever,” PJ says, voice strained, but she relaxes her face like she doesn’t care. “Can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of me.”

“No, you were just a kid,” Hazel says gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

PJ hums, staring into the distance. Then she stirs and rubs her knuckles over her eyelids. “God, I can’t believe I told you all that. That was dumb.”

“It wasn’t dumb. We can talk about anything you want to talk about.”

PJ wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. “Can you drive me home? Like, now?”

“Of course.” Hazel gets up and reaches for her shoes, and she hands PJ hers, too.

PJ stares down at her combat boots for several moments before she blinks and goes to put them on.

They don’t talk much as they get to Hazel’s car and drive to PJ’s house. It’s only a fifteen minute drive. PJ’s house is small and brown, and the mailbox door is broken. PJ opens the passenger door and puts one leg out, but she turns back to Hazel. “Thanks for helping me study."

Hazel smiles. “You’re welcome. It was fun. We can do it again whenever you want.”

“Yeah,” PJ says quietly. “Okay.” She looks at her house, then back at Hazel. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Hazel echoes. She watches PJ walk up the driveway and unlock the door and disappear inside. Hazel never asked her about what the kissing means, she realizes. Even though they did it again, a lot. How could Hazel have forgotten she was supposed to bring it up? Something must have distracted her. Maybe PJ’s hair, or the sleepy circles under her eyes, or something she said.

Hazel kind of already misses looking at her. She almost wants PJ to come back out and roll her eyes at Hazel one more time.