porcelain

by that_one_urchin

Summary:

It’s just that she’s known Shauna so long the idea of not having some piece of her around is foreign, almost to the point of being disorienting. Like she’d woken up, only to discover that she’d forgotten how to walk.

So, she has this: seven digits, scribbled in brand new pen, tucked away for her to take out and run her fingers over whenever she’s feeling sentimental.

—

Jackie starts calling Shauna from Rutgers with… interesting results.

Chapter 1

Notes:

mind the tags. jackie has an ED in this one and a somewhat heavy humiliation/degradation kink. so, if that’s not ur thing, you’ve been warned. otherwise, enjoy!

CW: descriptions of disordered eating

Jackie shuts the door, stumbles, and trips face first, head dangling into the toilet.

Okay, so.

She’s not doing particularly well in college.

Rutgers was supposed to be a dream — a sunny campus with sunny students and sunny smiles. A new place, where she could try her hand at being an adult, without having to stray too far from her hometown for comfort. There would always be a safety net, a promise that she could drive home on the weekends to lick her wounds if things went wrong… except, of course, she wouldn’t want to. She’d be off doing fun, exciting college things, like decorating her dorm with Shauna and joining clubs with Shauna and going to frat parties with Shauna.

And that’s still happening. Kind of. It’s not like she’s a total loser. She’s been doing all of those things, just sans the Shauna.

She already met her roommate, Rachel, a plucky blonde with sun-soaked skin and too many freckles (not Shauna).

She already joined the ultimate frisbee club, the fashion club, the young feminist’s book club, and Delta Phi (which Shauna would call cliche, shallow, pretentious, and vapid, in that order).

She’s already gone to exactly six frat parties, the latest of which had her hugging a toilet bowl (without Shauna there to hold back her hair).

Jackie has done a lot — is doing a lot — but all of it feels as if she’s rolling through lines on a script. Like she’s seven years old again, back in one of those pageant shows her mom used to wrestle her into, glittery and dolled up and soaked in cement-solid hairspray, all so she could perform. So her mom could take pictures and hang them on the mantle. Oh, just look at little Jacqueline, isn’t she darling?

She imagines running into Shauna and shoving a scrapbook beneath her nose in much the same manner. Here’s me pinning Madonna posters to my wall. Here’s me laughing with my large, cool group of friends. Here’s me kissing a boy with bigger biceps than Jeff. Here’s me reading Wuthering Heights, because I read now. See? See? I can do just fine without you.

Which is all kinds of pathetic, she knows. Shauna would probably just pity-frown at her, if the fantasy ever did unfurl. It might, actually, if they both wind up back in Wiskayok for Thanksgiving. Scarily, that’s a very real, startling possibility: having a violent stare down over Deb’s turkey.

Still. Jackie’s never been a desperate person. Not on the surface, at least. People seem to like her, and why not? She’s pretty, athletic, and plenty fun to be around. Joining a sorority is easy, and getting invited to parties is easier. She hops through small talk like a champ, chatting about the new skirts she bought with girls and bragging about soccer to boys. It’s a bit of a rush, being faced with a whole new host of people to charm after years of rotating the same roster. She repeats herself a lot, asking people where they’re from, what they’re majoring in, what classes they’re taking. She nods along, and she smiles, and it’s great, you know, but sometimes she gets the thought in her head that it’s all sort of—

(Tragic, boring, insecure, weak.)

—meaningless. Deep down, she doesn’t really care if the guy she’s talking to is majoring in philosophy or business or chemistry. It’s just something to say. Just words.

No one here knows that she can’t puke properly unless someone gives her a hard smack on the back to get the ball rolling — so she gives up, mid dry heave, and slouches onto the floor. She’s in one of those shitty, university-issue bathrooms that’s no bigger than a closet and has the color scheme of a mental hospital. White on white on more white. It makes her a bit jittery, reminds her of all the tests they took after they were rescued. Checking her vitals, her organs, her blood, over and over, until they could deem her alright. Physically, anyway. She still tenses when it gets too dark out — whatever that means, thank you brain — and she’s pretty sure she’s not going to make it on another flight anytime soon. But, she’s here. Some of the other girls haven’t made it to college. That’s something, right? A win in of itself?

Maybe. A whole year undefeated, and now she can’t even remember what a win looks like.

Jackie sighs. Tragic, boring, insecure, weak college girl is tragic, boring, insecure, and weak.

Checkmate, Shipman.

Her stomach’s doing the kind of odd, vodka two step that tells her she should probably take another try at clearing her stomach, but she’s not up for it right now. There isn’t much to throw up, anyway. College is shredding the careful diet she’d pieced together for training season. It’s been mostly alcohol, granola bars eaten on the go, and late night, dining hall slop whenever she can stomach it. It’s okay, though, all part of the experience. And if she is going back for Thanksgiving, she’d like to return without the freshman fifteen.

Part of her wants to add it to that great, big, living scrapbook: Notice how thin I’ve gotten, Shauna? How pretty? Effortless and small. I’m fucking thriving without you. I’m fucking alive.

Maybe not the healthiest thought to have.

The door pops open. “Oh! Sorry, girl, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

And closes with a giggle.

Jackie jerks up onto her feet, staggering slightly. The fact that a random stranger has seen her sitting around this way feels strangely humiliating, like she’s just gotten publicly pantsed or something.

The feeling follows her all the way downstairs, where she tries her best not to touch too many people while cutting through the crowd. There’s no one there who expects her to say goodbye, so she just slips right out, hustling past some smokers on the porch.

She fast-walks the rest of the way to her dorm, head down, arms wrapped around her body. The wind is messing up her hair and making her shiver. She wishes she’d worn a slightly less skimpy outfit.

By the time Jackie reaches her room, she’s covered in goosebumps. Her roommate is gone, probably for the rest of the night. The room is bathed in the type of solid darkness she has to grit her teeth to keep from quivering at. She flicks on a light and pads through the eerie quiet to drop at her desk chair, determined to remove her makeup. Her desk is currently a cavernous mess of objects: pens, pencils, notebooks, staplers, lipstick, mascara, nail clippers, mace, a phone, water bottles, et cetera. Most of it’s just clutter. She doesn’t even use the phone, outside of her weekly calls with her parents.

Are you keeping up with your studies?

Yes, mom.

You’re not going to too many parties, are you?

No, dad.

Are you making friends?

Yes, yes, everything’s perfect.

Jackie thought one of her teammates might give her a ring, but no luck — okay, so, Misty had called, it’s just… it’s Misty. She’s still not sure how Misty got her number, and she’s a little too afraid to ask.

What she did ask, during this very brief, very casual conversation, is if Misty had the other girls’ numbers. Just out of simple curiosity. Just so she could check in and chat with Tai or Van and maybe catch up with Nat a bit more and hey, Misty, you wouldn’t happen to have Shauna’s number, would you? She’s not doing anything weird with it. She hasn’t called to cry or scream or embarrass herself (though she thinks she’d be justified in doing so, given the circumstances). It’s just that she’s known Shauna so long the idea of not having some piece of her around is foreign, almost to the point of being disorienting. Like she’d woken up and discovered that she’d forgotten how to walk.

So, she has this: seven digits, scribbled in brand new pen, tucked away for her to take out and run her fingers over whenever she’s feeling sentimental.

The ink is blotching from her sweat.

Jackie rolls her thumb over all the eights and nines, getting a physical feel for the numbers, as if doing so will help them sink into her skin.

She’d gotten her nails done in preparation for Orientation Week, and they’re still that same glossy purple. A pretty color on pretty hands — smooth and polished and softened, yet somehow inadequate, useless, unable to lift a knife. She doubts any of the other girls here think about that. Whether or not they’d be able to skin a rabbit or a deer, if given the chance. She doesn’t have to wonder, though. She already knows, if you peel back the pretty bits of her, that beneath it all, she can’t, beneath it all, she’s worthless.

It’s not the kind of thing you un-know. The cut may have healed, but the skin hasn’t quite set right.

Jackie curls the cord around her finger, thinking.

Shauna is probably actually thriving, doing her best impression of a tortured artist at Brown, wearing berets and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes.

Probably.

Just the thought annoys her, and well… Jackie can’t help what happens next.

A buzzing fills her ears, and her head empties, and she jams her fingers at the keypad, rabbit-quick, thinking that it’s fine, Shauna probably won’t be up this late, and if she is, she’s probably busy, so—

“Hello?”

Jackie holds her breath.

“Hello? Who’s calling?”

There’s no identifiable noises surrounding the voice, no clink of glasses or background chatter.

”Alright, whatever.” The line goes dead.

Jackie spends a long minute soaking in the memory of Shauna’s voice — sucking the taste of it, lodging it between gum and cheek. Her favorite candy.

After a while, she carries on, reaches for a makeup wipe, swipes briskly at her eye.

Her hands are trembling.

 

*

 

”Hello?”

Silence.

”Hello?”

Silence.

”Is this the same caller?”

More silence.

”Great. Real fucking mature. I already said, I’m not talking to any reporters. Leave me alone.”

 

*

 

Right, so, Shauna thinking she’s a random reporter makes the most sense.

(Jackie herself had been swarmed by them, people who would show up to her house with their notepads already out, pens clicked, entitled.)

And she doesn’t want to talk about the crash, which makes even more sense.

For an almost-eternity, all the nightmares Jackie had were inescapable, more part of her than her hands and feet. They came blunt and vivid and everywhere, like a knife grinding continuously against her spine. Screams, bright bursts of flame. Blocks of darkness, rustling trees. Maggots, animal guts, rot. A dead-eyed freshman, impaled through the chest. Coach Martinez, sucked right out of the plane. Coach Ben’s jelly ooze of a leg. Laura Lee, disappearing into a plane carcass. A forehead spitting blood and a smiling mouth garbling French, then English: you don’t matter anymore, but that’s alright, I suppose you never really did.

She’d wake up, trembling engine-hard in a tangle of soaked sheets, nothing to do but close her eyes and clamp her mouth shut. She likes to be coddled, admittedly, likes it when she gets sick and her mom sweeps in to brush the hair from her forehead and ply her with tea. But it’s not the same, now, knowing everyone sees her that way — a sick child, a little baby that needs to be burped to vomit properly.

The dreams got better, somehow, all on their own. They lightened, got less clear cut: blurry colors and shapes of a mall, a rain-damp soccer field, red solo cups, a pack of bodies bouncing around her, buzz, buzz, buzz. A glimpse of the life she once had. A glimpse of the life she can have again, if she tries hard enough.

 

*

 

She skips breakfast the next morning — a drip of marvelous, fuzzy, secret pride — and thinks, if she got a second shot at it, she’d beat hunger. She’d dominate the wilderness.

 

*

 

”Hello? Hello? This isn’t funny. I’m not, like, amused or scared or whatever you want me to be, so just—“

”Hi, Shauna.”

An intake of breath on the other line.

Jackie tosses back her wine, triumphant. Yeah, that’s right, bet you didn’t expect me. She’s got the room to herself, again, since Rachel’s found some boy to cozy up to. She’d wrapped up her classes, then flirted her way into a free bottle one of those fancy, expensive wines she always imagined she’d start drinking at forty.

A bit early, but it’s fine. She’s got a smooth, goddamn plan.

It was a little unfair, how things went down, right? How Shauna got to lay into her in front of everybody, then toss her out in the snow. When the rescue team came, Shauna hadn’t even looked at her, just ducked into the helicopter, all quick and guilty.

Well, fuck her.

Fuck this. Fuck the wallowing.

She’s not a rabbit. She can be a fucking wolf if she wants to. “Did you know I’m a wolf?”

”Jackie, is that — what?”

”You’re not the only one that gets to do things.”

”…are you drunk?”

”No.” She bites out.

But, really, yes. The alcohol is hitting her harder than she’d imagined. Consequences of an empty stomach.

Jackie leans back in her chair, transferring the phone into her lap as she props one foot up on the desk. The sundress she’s wearing rides up her thighs, fabric bunching indecently. “You’re not the only one that gets to read and, and — fuck and kill things. I can be angry, too.”

See, Jackie went to this party over the weekend because she’s fun, and she does fun things. And she met this boy, who was also fun (Brian, business major, tall and stocky, smile of a golden retriever) and had a room upstairs and — she’s starting to grasp, after the four times that she’s had sex, that she maybe doesn’t like it that much. Sure, she likes what the act says about her: that she’s wanted, desired, useful in at least one way. But the physical part is kind of gross, actually, too wet, too slimy, and too rough. She’d dismissed the thought initially, blaming it on Flex and his lack of game, but now she’s thinking sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe it’s just underwhelming.

For her, anyway. For Shauna, apparently, it’s worth blowing up a fifteen-year friendship.

”Okay, Jackie.”

”You pissed me off, and you really hurt my feelings.”

”I know.” A pause, a sigh. “Drink some water.”

The anger inside of her slips, threatening to deflate entirely at the soft tone of her voice, but Jackie holds strong.

”No.” She taps her bare foot idly against the wood. Her toes are purple, too. “I don’t want water. I want… ice.”

”Ice?”

”Got a hickey.”

This next pause is terrifyingly long, almost a full minute of anxiety-inducing silence.

”Oh.” Shauna says, after a moment, slow and measured. “Do you?”

Is that curiosity in her voice? Surprise? Suspicion? Anger? Jealousy?

“Yeah.” Jackie brags. “I do.”

”Okay, was it — I mean, are you seeing someone?”

”No. It was just some guy.” She twirls the cord tighter around her finger. “Brian.”

”Just some guy? What happened to sex being special? Only to be done on a romantic bed of rose petals.”

The remark startles a laugh out her that she immediately regrets. This isn’t a friendly chat. It’s an argument, and she’s winning, damn it.

Not wanting to give Shauna the satisfaction, she bites back, twice as hard: “Well, I wanted to lose it to my boyfriend, but that idea’s out the window, isn’t it?”

She imagines Shauna on the other line, rubbing her forehead, wearing that sulky pout.

”Okay, I get it. You’re pissed about Jeff—“

“No, you don’t get it. It’s not about Jeff.” She spits, annoyed beyond reason. “Fuck you. It’s about us.”

”—but you said you didn’t want to get “Natalie levels of easy” in college—“

”I’m not easy.” Jackie snaps loudly.

Putting the words out there has a strange effect. She’s not, is she? Maybe she is. Three boys since she got to college, all of them one night stands with no last names. She wonders what Shauna would think, seeing her pressed against the wall, giving up what’s between her legs, after a bit of small talk. What would she do if she walked in on Jackie like that, indecent, legs spread embarrassingly wide? Call her easy? Fast? A slut?

Jackie shivers, oddly. Takes another sip of wine.

”Alright, sorry. Forget I said anything.” Shauna replies, decidedly moody. “What are you drinking?”

”Wine.”

A long-suffering sigh. ”What type of wine, Jackie?”

Jackie scrambles to check the label, feeling put upon, like a child called out by their teacher. ”It’s, red, uh Buccella Mica Cabernet?”

She rushes it all out, then sits, waiting for Shauna to comment on her pronunciation, but all there is is some rustling on the other end. Footsteps, the soft pop of a bottle opening. Shauna swallowing something in an audible gulp.

”What are you drinking?” Jackie points the question towards her with restless curiosity.

”Whiskey.”

“Ew.” She wrinkles her nose, even as an alluring image appears in her head: Shauna, draped lazily across a velvet red bed, taking sips that leave her lips wet.

Real Shauna laughs, and it’s a touch mocking. “You still can’t stomach more than a cocktail, can you?”

Jackie twitches. “I can. It’s just gross.”

”Right, okay.”

”I can.”

”I said okay.”

She’s never heard Shauna’s voice like this before, so low, so casually cruel. It dismantles her, sends a flick of heat up her neck. Has Shauna always been this way? Has she just never noticed?

“You’re being a dick.” Jackie unwinds the cord, then rolls it back up again — thinks about how she’s going to draw out Shauna’s temper, where it can no longer hide. “You don’t even like whiskey, either. You’re just faking it.”

“I’m faking it? Really? That’s rich.”

Jackie swallows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

”Yes, you do. Yes, you do.” Shauna repeats herself, fervent, rushed with her own alcohol. “I bet you joined a sorority or something and started sleeping with a bunch of frat boy Brents—“

”Brian.” Jackie reminds her quietly, feeling as flimsy and weak as paper.

”Brian, whoever, just to forget the fact that you’re hollow inside, like one of those fragile, porcelain dolls your mom used to buy. Pretty, sure, but not much else.”

Jackie grips the stem of her glass hard, breathing ragged. Her body’s wound tight, skin flushed, nipples poking through the delicate fabric of her dress.

”That’s not true.”

“Sure.” There’s a noise that suggests Shauna is knocking back her drink again. “What are you majoring in, anyway? Fashion?”

“Yeah.” She admits, small.

“Sounds fun.”

“It is.” Her protest comes out feebly next to Shauna’s cruel tone, wobbly as her bottom lip. Something between her legs is throbbing.

Shauna just hums — a short, swift judgmental thing that has Jackie squirming. Her dress rides up the tiniest bit at the action, revealing the underwear she’d slipped on only two hours prior.

Pale purple panties with a dark, accusing wet spot marking their center.

The sight alone shocks her enough that she hangs up and sloshes her drink down on the desk, all at once, panicked. The line cuts dead abruptly. She sits for a few moments in silence, panting.

It’s only in the aftermath that she realizes she never yelled, never raised her voice, never said any of the things she wanted to.

Well.

She’s always known she was a weak girl.

Notes:

let me know what u thought. comments are always welcome

Chapter 2

Notes:

pretty much everything that happens in this chapter is unhealthy. do as i say, not as i write.

CW: disordered eating, body image issues, (brief) passive suicidal ideation

The day before the crash, Coach Martinez had pulled her into his office and told her that she sucked.

Well, no.

He told her she was only captain because she had influence — which was just a thinly-veiled (and kind of bitchy, for a middle aged man) way of saying that she sucked. Everyone else has actual skill, Jackie, but you learned to bat your eyelashes young, so, yippee, here’s the job.

He said a lot of other stuff, too. Stuff about footwork and speed and such. He’d asked if he could talk to her like an adult. She nodded, sure, but inside there was that stumbling, fluttering, baby-giraffe-on-ice feeling. It was a familiar feeling, one she could identify back to age five, when everyone had learned to ride a bike without her. Like she was sinking into a big pit of molasses while the world zoomed by around her. A clawing, desperate sort of panic that she had to climb out of, before they all left her behind — or worse, turned their heads and realized there was a reason to.

Because Jackie wasn’t a very good team captain, and she wasn’t much of an adult, either. Senior year marked her freshly eighteen, but her mom still did her laundry. She may have started to look like an adult, but honestly she was just a child, playing around with her aging limbs.

Anyway, all this to say, she’d mentally thrown up about twice (with Shauna to burp her) in the time frame it took her to nod.

He went on to tell her that this influence of hers was substantial, something the group needed, could rely on. His advice felt equally solid, almost comforting—

—until she had the rug ripped right out from under her.

As it turned out, her teammates didn’t need her.

No one did.

 

*

 

After the rescue, all of them were offered therapy.

Jackie took it for a month and would have continued taking it, had she not hit a wall. How was she supposed to sit there and speak Shauna’s name? How could she admit to being so pathetic? How was she supposed to explain that, out of everything, teen girl warfare had traumatized her more than anything else?

 

*

 

So, here Jackie is, doing it.

She’s made up her mind, decided that she’s going to become a real, genuine, honest-to-god, capital-A Adult.

An adult who does her own laundry and finishes her homework in advance and doesn’t engage in strange, confusing, long-distance calls with ex best friends.

Except it’s been two days of that, and the whole thing is sort of boring, actually? The thing that no one tells you about life after high school is that there’s… nothing. Nothing she cares about, anyway. There’s no pretty, blonde jock to cart around, no Nationals to train for, no Shauna to dissect. Technically, her schedule’s crammed from top to bottom — and, like, yeah, physically that was her soaping up that car at that fundraiser yesterday, but she wasn’t really there, there. (Always, always, she was with Shauna.) She’s not sure what to do. Take up badminton? Sew? Knit? Shoot herself? She’s started spending large swaths of time imagining all the different ways she could die. Get hit by a bus, slip in the shower, catch a bad infection, that sort of thing. She’s not becoming one of those sad, mopey girls, cutting themselves open and painting their nails all black or anything, but she’s just…

She’s tired, okay?

Death seems like an easy way to get a very long, well-deserved nap. And if something else did it for her, then she wouldn’t have to admit defeat.

On some level, that’s what being an Adult is supposed to be about, right? Winning? Spitting in the face of all the people that rolled their eyes and told her she’d peak in high school?

A.k.a. Shauna.

A.k.a. Coach Martinez.

(As far as she’s concerned, Shauna can suck a dick. And Coach Martinez can suck a smaller, lesser dick, seeing as he’s dead and everything.)

Jackie wants to win. It’s the only thing that keeps her crawling out of bed in the mornings and attending her classes in the afternoons. She’s not a quitter. Whether it’s a pageant show or a soccer match, she’s always found some way to dig her heels in and persevere. She has grit, even if not everyone sees it right now. They will, eventually.

She’s going to make them.

She has a whole plan and everything, with the deadlined outlined on her calendar in blunt red: Thanksgiving break. November eighteenth.

Phase one of the plan is simple.

Brunch.

See, Jackie spent all of freshman year shepherding the Yellowjackets to various social events — the mall, parties, sleepovers — so it’s not hard for her to herd ten girls from her sorority out to a diner and decide that they’re her friends, now.

”Jackie, where’d you find this place? It’s adorable.” One of the girls (Tracy, twenty, owns cuter skirts than her) comments, seeing the nature decorations. Tiny leaves painted on the windows, mushroom-shaped menus.

”I just, uh, saw it on a run.” She answers vaguely.

The truth is that she’s been here once before with Shauna, when they visited Rutgers junior year. She doesn’t want to say that, though. Shauna’s kind of like Candyman or Bloody Mary or whatever monster lurks in the backs of children’s closets — not real until she makes her real. Jackie doesn’t want to speak her name and accidentally summon her to a sorority brunch, just so she can scowl and be all judgy from the shadows.

”You run? That makes so much sense.” Tracy says as they all settle down at a table. Jackie folds herself into the exact seat Shauna sat in almost two years ago, totally unthinkingly.

”What? Why?”

”Well, you’re really skinny.” The comment is met by a chorus of nodding agreement from the girls.

Jackie preens beneath it — the praise, the watching eyes, the fluttering mascara lashes, the slight twinge of envy. Female approval. All the skipped meals suddenly feel worth it with them looking at her like that. Like she’s beautiful.

”Thanks.” She murmurs, as if it’s nothing, and picks deceptively at a menu.

”It’s probably why Brian likes you so much.”

”Oh.” Jackie had been trying her best to push the memory of his wet, sloppy kisses from her head. “He does?”

”Yeah, he said he was thinking of asking you out.”

Which is… swell. A boyfriend should probably be added to her plan, anyway. “Great.”

One of the girls shifts beside her. “I think I want the hearty bear stew. That’s okay, right, Jackie? It won’t bother you or anything? I heard you guys had to eat a bear out there.”

(Jackie inwardly cringes because, no, she did not put Lottie’s gross, diseased bear meat inside of her mouth, and that absolutely shouldn’t be her legacy.)

They’re all still looking at her. The good attention is quickly turning to the bad type of attention, so she shakes her head. “What? No, it’s fine.”

There’s a looming sense that it’s not fine, and that they all, maybe, want to see her break down over the mention of stew, but she stares determinedly at her hands until the moment passes.

So, anyway. Menu. Food. Eating.

It’s all the standard brunch foods: pancakes, waffles, bacon, french toast, bagel sandwiches, soups, stews, salads, croissants, a general excess of egg products. The last time she was here, they split blueberry pancakes and a really cheap mug of hot chocolate between them. Both of those options are out of the question now. She doesn’t need them. She doesn’t even really want them, is the thing — reading the little description about soft, buttery cakes drizzled in syrup actually make her stomach clench up. Too much sugar, too many calories. Not worth the fallout. She hasn’t eaten in long enough that the hunger is transforming into something solid and shiny and gratifying, like a pearl she can roll between her fingers. She’s not willing to give it up.

Because it’s a trophy. That’s what it is. A trophy she only gets to keep if she’s killer, if she’s strong — if she shuts her mouth against the bloated world and tells it to go fuck itself. It’s trying to pry her lips open, to make her break, and she’s too determined to let it. That’s what she’d liked the best about soccer: the burn in her legs, the stitch in her chest, the exhilaration and sweat. The physical evidence that she was doing something of worth, pushing herself past where most people would go.

She’s Jackie Taylor. She’s a Yellowjacket. She’s not going to drop the ball. She’s going to win.

Winning means a salad (dry) and a coffee (black). Shauna may be able to stomach whiskey, but she never could drink coffee without a bit of milk in it.

Shauna - 1, Jackie 2.

Also, her new best friends are having a conversation, so she should listen, probably. It’s polite.

“We’re not, like, a thing, but we’re still a thing, you know?”

”No, yeah, of course.”

”He’s not coming to Christmas with me or anything, that’s for sure. But we’re getting each other gifts. Nothing too expensive. Maybe a thirty dollar limit?”

”Totally.” Jackie nods along.

The other great thing about starving herself is that she can tune out of the world at random. It’s not so great during classes or morning jogs — where her vision swims and her thoughts unstick and her body sort of starts to feel like misshapen gelatin — but it is kind of nice to retreat into the fog, when what’s going on in front of her is meaningless.

She does listen, though. She sets out to memorize Lily’s boyfriend’s name and Sarah’s favorite color and what makes Tracy laugh, just like she learned the calories in eggs, milk, and cheese. It’s better to learn ingredients first, her mom had told her once, then you know what’s in every meal.

Overall, brunch is… fine.

They laugh, they chat, they do girl things. Jackie thinks they might like her. Then again, she thought the team liked her, right up until they cast her out into the cold. So, who’s to say?

“This was nice, we should do this again soon.” The girls smile, at the end of it — except maybe they secretly fucking hate her.

Either way, Jackie smiles back.

 

*

 

She breaks and calls Shauna again — only to complain properly.

”You fucking suck, you know that?”

”Yeah.”

”Okay, well… good. As long as you know.”

And she hangs up.

 

*

 

Brian calls her, too.

He doesn’t want to be weird, but he got her number from Rachel so-and-so, and he thinks the other night was fun, so maybe they can do it again sometime?

Jackie says yes.

She does quick math to put the pieces together and decides that if she says no, someone will probably wind up asking her why. And she doesn’t really have an answer to that.

So, on Friday night, she finds herself in his room again, getting herded onto a bed that is (thankfully) mostly clean and even a touch softer than Shauna’s. He’s kissing her gently, propped up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush her. Still, Jackie feels a bit claustrophobic, like she’s being pulverized by the slimy bulldozer of his mouth. Panic bucks in her chest. Her blouse is being unbuttoned, and she has to remind herself not to arch away from the hands that go searching down her spine. Does he really have to do that? Touch her?

“You’re so hot,” he breathes against her mouth, and it turns out, that’s not as great as Tracy — with her fiery hair and glossy lips — telling her you’re really skinny.

(And none of it is nearly as good as Shauna telling her she’s hollow, useless porcelain.)

She sort of wishes he wouldn’t talk.

When she’d done it with Travis, there was a mutual understanding that it wasn’t because she wanted him, and it wasn’t because he wanted her. He stared at the pillow beside her instead of her face, thinking of Nat (and probably tripping the fuck out, now that she thinks about it). She stared at the ceiling, thinking of Shauna.

Not in a weird way.

Just — when it started, and she felt that first, foreign burning stretch between her legs, she’d shut her eyes and thought see, Shipman, I can do it, too.

And it’d made her moan.

(They were always supposed to lose their virginities together, somehow.)

*

 

Afterwards, she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, scrubbing her mouth out, hard and vigorous, until her gums bleed and her body feels like her own again.

She calls it the Jeff routine.

 

*

 

Phase two of the plan involves another trip off campus.

It occurs to her that adults buy food for themselves, so she winds up in a too-cold grocery store, shivering slightly as she browses the items and their nutrition labels. She loads the cart with a lot of low-calorie, dorm-friendly foods, mourning the times when she could cook chicken in a pan, like a person. Diet sodas, energy drinks, peanut butter protein bars, shakes, salt, vitamins, and strawberries (she’s heard a rumor they help whiten your teeth). She feels pretty good about all of it. Standing in her big girl shoes, filling up her big girl cart. A passing employee even calls her ma’am, which is nice, you know, because it means she might actually pass for a real life woman.

She’s always sort of been afraid she wouldn’t do it right — the whole growing up thing. Like at some point, her mom would have to sigh and tell her to stop playing dress-up, just give back the lipstick and heels. But now if she squints, she can picture all her little girl fat chipping away, leaving a version of herself that’s strong and hardened and somehow lovely, like a piece of carved bone. Something that could sustain itself in the wilderness.

Jackie pushes the cart into the next aisle, which is lined with crossword puzzles, magazines, and books. She needs to pick a new novel to keep up with the extensive list Shauna’s probably reading.

It annoys her, that probably, because if she’s going to start saying it, then she has to acknowledge that she could probably just ask about it. She could probably say hey, what books are you reading — all casual-like — and Shauna would probably tell her without much of a fuss. Wouldn’t it be weird, though? Them making small talk? She doesn’t want to give the impression that everything that happened between them is okay, when it’s not. But she also spends time brushing her fingers over pages, wondering which one Shauna likes the best.

Maybe that’s the weird part. The small bit of herself that still gropes for lost intimacy between them.

She needs to not call and not think about it and not let things… escalate. Again.

The book choices are pretty sparse, but Jackie manages to pick out one that looks thick and smart. She chucks it into the cart and fully intends on leaving, but — How to Lose Ten Pounds In Two Weeks.

So. That’s intriguing.

She flips through the magazine, half-happy, half-disappointed to find it’s all stuff she already knows and is already doing (but better). Then, she picks up the next one, which is promising to eliminate all her belly fat with an unholy amount of sit-ups and crunches. The third one has some article about how she can slim down her thighs with spinach. She goes immediately for a fourth. It’s not the contents of the magazines that catch her interest — no, she’s sat through enough of Coach Ben’s nutrition lectures to know most of these are bullshit — but the models. Photo after photo of glossy, underwear-clad women, stretched into almost nothingness, sporting bony chests and even bonier legs. She pages through it all in a kind of frenzy, thinking of all the small children she’d sacrifice for hipbones like that.

One of the women on the covers looks all muscle, like she’s had the fat physically peeled away from her body so she can run on protein powder and oats. Jackie tosses that one into the cart.

Feeling halfway possessed, she reaches for a copy of Playboy, which isn’t a diet magazine, exactly, but she can go ahead and make it one. This could be a purely inspirational thing. She hunches her shoulders while she “reads,” just in case someone comes down the aisle and starts spontaneously asking questions. She’s not doing anything weird. It’s not like she’s some gross boy, salivating over a nudie mag he found in the trash. She’s just browsing.

Except, she turns the page and — yeah, okay, this woman is bigger than she is right now and that’s not her goal — yet, she can’t stop looking. The model looks so soft everywhere, all pretty curves and big, doey brown eyes. Full and feminine and naked. Really, really naked. She’s shaved everything down to a little black strip. Her pierced nipples are rosebud red and puckered, as if they’ve been sucked on recently. Jackie can hear the blood roaring in her ears. She thinks she might pass out, actually.

Paranoid, she smooths out the magazine a few times before placing it neatly back on the shelf, where it needs to stay.

 

*

 

It’s not a thing.

 

*

 

When she gets back to her room, Rachel is looking at her like it is most definitely a thing.

“Hi, Rach.” Jackie says, awkwardly, as she drags her groceries inside. She forgot how strange it is to show up with like… zero-calorie everything. She begins loading up their mini fridge under the watchful eye of her roommate.

”You went shopping?”

”Mhm.”

“…is this, like, a wilderness trauma thing or are you some type of anorexic?”

Jackie drops a can of Diet Coke, swearing.

For a second, she flounders between the words anorexic (which is humiliating in the cliche, of course you’d get an eating disorder to try to make yourself special way) and wilderness trauma (which is humiliating in the everyone saw footage of you sobbing openly on a tarmac way).

“No, it’s a health thing.” She clears her throat. “I’m… watching my blood pressure.”

“Okay.” Rachel says. “Cool.”

Cool.

Crisis averted.

“I’m actually going to head out.” Rachel continues. She’s got on a maroon scarf and a cute pair of thigh-high boots. By the looks of her, she’s on her way to meet her boyfriend. “I’ll see you later?”

”Yeah, have fun!”

The door closes, leaving Jackie alone.

Jackie exhales, unfurling a little in the privacy. She’s free to unpack her magazines without judgment now. She stuffs them out of sight, under her bed, and tries to shift her brain into homework mode.

It goes poorly.

Sitting at her desk makes her feel like an overgrown, sleepy cat, more prone to sinking into bad habits than the textbook laid out in front of her. She blames Shauna for ruining her workspace and for everything else that’s happened since college began. The feeling inside of her crests, and she reaches out to grab her phone, not doing anything with it just yet, passing it from hand to hand absentmindedly.

At this point, her life is chopped up into Talking to Shauna and Not Talking to Shauna, and it’s embarrassing which one of those is more interesting. She calls.

”Hello? Jackie, is that you?” Pause. “Do I still fucking suck?”

”Yes.”

”Good to know.”

Jackie traces a tiny spiral into her desk, thinking of ways this conversation can proceed normally. “So, Jeff. You never told me — was he at least good at it?”

“Jesus. Have you ever thought about just starting this off with hello?” Shauna sounds tired on the other end, like she could be collapsing into her own desk chair somewhere, sprawling out her legs.

”Cheaters don’t get hellos.” Jackie spreads her stance a little wider to mimic this hypothetical Shauna. “Answer the question.”

(She thinks of her own fumbling experiences with boys. In another life, they’re at a sleepover right now, gabbing, trading notes.)

”He was… okay, I guess. That wasn’t what it was about.”

”What was it about?”

”Nothing. Just stupid high school shit.” Shauna answers, after a minute, like a few months of college have made her above it all. 

Nothing?! She blew up their friendship over nothing? Jackie opens her mouth, closes it. “You traumatized me, you know, with your deceit.”

”Did I?” Shauna seems vaguely amused.

It’s not a joke, though. Ever since that day, Jackie’s body just doesn’t sit right. She doesn’t know what to say, how to eat, how to place her hands.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.” Another pause. “How drunk are you right now? Scale of one to ten?”

Weirdly, Jackie’s not drunk at all. Hasn’t had a drop in days. It’s more a combination of loneliness and strung-out boredom that had her picking up the phone today. That and maybe a little of something else, but that’s not any of Shauna’s business. “Not at all. Zero, I guess.”

”Zero? So you’re sitting alone on the weekend, calling me, sober. What about all your friends?”

”They’re…” She trails off, decides what she was going to say is too mortifying to voice. They’re not here. You’re supposed to be my friend, Shauna. “Around.”

”Around?”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Right, ‘cause that’s how all good phone calls go. No talking whatsoever.”

Shauna’s sarcasm gives her such a drowsy rush of nostalgia that she smiles faintly, fiddling with the hem of her shorts. She can’t seem to keep still.

On the other end, Shauna presses: “You’re seriously not going to tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” Jackie picks up a pen, clicks it, sets it down. “Why would something be up?”

”Jackie.”

”Shauna.”

“Come on, don’t be a brat. I’m not in the mood to play whatever game this is. Obviously you want something, if you’re calling.”

Shauna’s got her annoyed voice on, but it doesn’t really matter. All the sound’s flooded from Jackie’s ears. She rocks back and forth, chair creaking, lip sucked into mouth.

An antsy ball of heat is blooming in her stomach. “You think I’m a brat?”

Silence. She imagines Shauna’s eyes raking over her, appraising. “I think you’re needy.”

Jackie can’t help but white-knuckle the phone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. All the calling, it’s desperate. What do you even want, Jackie?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice wobbles, the words needy and desperate blurring in her mind.

She keeps rocking her hips, back and forth, slow, feeding the growing ache between her legs. The corner of the chair catches just right, pressing firm against the damp flush of her shorts. She needs to stop. She will stop. It just — it feels good.

“You don’t know?” Shauna repeats sharply.

Jackie scrambles, suppressing a gasp at the tiny pulse of her clit. “I don’t know. I’m… m’sorry.”

“I’m not your lapdog anymore. I can’t cross state lines to come lick your wounds.” Shauna is saying, while Jackie drops her head to the desk and groans soundlessly into the wood. She holds the phone a safe distance away as she grinds down, making little circles, letting the ache grow bone-deep and molten. “What? Are you ignoring me now? Seriously, you called me. You’re such a child sometimes.”

“Say that again.” She asks, in what is hopefully her normal voice. Her body is trembling hard all over.

“What?”

“That, what you—“

”That you’re a child? That’s what you called to hear?”

”Yeah.” Every shred of dignity she has flees in that single word. She feels disgusting and perverted and torn open, somehow, like Shauna can see everything that’s wrong with her. “Yeah, maybe.”

Shauna doesn’t say anything for a moment.

It’s the longest moment of Jackie’s life. She doesn’t move. Hell, she doesn’t even breathe.

Then, Shauna’s flat, cold voice: “You need constant attention. You’re not happy unless there’s someone there to play with you. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.”

A shock of pleasure bursts inside of her. Jackie tastes nothing but the dust and wood of the desk she bites down on to keep from sobbing aloud. She humps the chair, eyes clenched, body taut, unable to stop.

“Jackie?” Shauna asks with genuine concern. Her tone has flipped on its head. “Jackie, are you still there? Are you, um…”

But Jackie hangs up.

Chapter 3: Shauna Interlude

Notes:

i imagine college Shauna to be pretentious, angry, and a bit chaotic

The frat party is loud and stupid and not the type of thing she thought she would have to experience with intellectuals at Brown.

“Drink, drink, drink!”

Shauna rolls her eyes. Hard. She pushes her way through the crowd, shouldering aside some guy who has way too much chest hair to have the right to be shirtless. It’s all part of the college experience, probably, but these people are pushing her to chain-smoke.

Out on the terrace, she digs into the deep pockets of her coat for a lighter and a cigarette. The wind whips wildly around her while she takes her first drag, being a little precious about it. She’s been learning how to roll her own, and they always feel slightly fragile in her hands, as if they might spontaneously disintegrate. It’s been a bit of an issue, lately, since the crash, putting her paws around delicate things.

Someone opens the door behind her — chatter, laughs, a burst of Salt-N-Pepa — and a guy slinks out.

He’s tall, passably cute with a lanky figure and the world’s ugliest sweater to hang off of it. She likes his tired, poet eyes and the way he sort of looks like he’s returning from a funeral.

”Wassup.” He says, which docks him some points.

Shauna shrugs. “Nothing. Smoking.”

”Cool. Can I borrow one or…” He asks, and she does, and now she’s smoking with the Wassup Guy.

”You know, I don’t know why people ask if they can borrow something when they’re not gonna give it back. I mean, it’s like borrowing a tampon or a mint. It’s basically yours now.”

He says nothing. She sniffs. Why is she talking?

”No, I get that.” He follows up eventually, looking at her for another long moment. “You an English Lit major?”

”Yeah. Yeah, actually.” Something in Shauna startles the way an elephant might if you pulled its tail. It’s always weird remembering other people can perceive her. “How’d you guess?”

”You’re… wordy.”

”Am I?”

”Yeah.” He blows smoke in a tiny, sharp line. “So, what’s your name?”

”Shauna, uh, Shipman.”

(She makes a mental note to remove the ‘uh’ from her vocabulary. Doesn’t sound intellectual.)

“Nice. Total author’s name.” He replies, and he’s definitely about to try to fuck her or sell her on some environmental petition because that’s a blatant lie.

Shauna Shipman is not an author’s name. It’s the name of, like, a crummy suburban soccer mom who loathes her life or a sailor with a really corny sense of humor. Shauna Shipman reads the newspaper on Sundays and watches the Price Is Right religiously and probably goes to sleep next to her snoring husband with rollers in her hair. Shauna Shipman hates herself.

The thing is, she’s okay with him lying to her face to get into her pants. What she’s not okay with is the sudden flicker of recognition in his eyes. She knows that flicker. She’s been getting far too much of it recently.

“Wait, Shipman… aren’t you one of those wilderness soccer girls? With the plane?”

“Yep.” She sucks hard on her cigarette.

”Holy shit. I thought they’d ship you guys off to a nuthouse or something — no offense.” Okay, all points lost. “Didn’t you guys eat a bear?”

”It was a girl, actually.” Shauna flicks the stub to the ground, delighting in the way he gapes at her. She grinds it beneath her shoe. “One of the freshmen.”

It’s all very Natalie Scatorccio of her.

Her cool meter is at an all time high as she walks away, not looking back — feeling mysterious.

But like usual, the high doesn’t last long. It takes her about three blocks to realize: one, she’s just wasted two perfectly good cigarettes. Two, she turned down a semi-attractive guy in favor of another celibate night. And three, she’s now alone and has nothing to do on a Saturday.

She sort of wishes she’d fucked him. Just as a palate cleanser. The last guy she fucked was Jeff, and that was… well, fucked.

Shauna is aware that what she did was not a very nice thing, but she’s also aware that she might not be a very nice person. According to Tai, she’s cynical at best and a raging bitch at worst. She’s met maybe three people in total that she likes here, and she doesn’t even have an excuse this time. At least in Wiskayok, she could blame her apathy on the general bumfuckery of the town. The only adults who lived there were washed-up losers who peaked in high school, and you could tell. Genuinely, you could just smack your lips together and taste the mediocrity. It always smelled a bit like damp garbage there, and every guy’s idea of flirting was trying to impress her with a keg stand or a burping contest. At Brown, there are people who have done things — real things, like travel to Prague or see the Mona Lisa up close — yet somehow the conversation never extends past their developing coke addiction or how her plane took a nosedive one time.

She gets back to her dorm, still thinking of Jeff, which means it’s objectively a bad night.

It also means she gets a free pass to sleep in her makeup, since things are already ruined. She toes off her boots, throws a glance at the shapeless lump that is her roommate (Anna hasn’t left her bed in 2.5 days), and collapses face-first into the pillows.

She sprawls.

Sprawling on her bed is, unfortunately, becoming one of her favorite hobbies. It was supposed to be painting or bird watching or writing, but apparently all those things kind of suck. It’s a lot of sitting. And staring. And doing next to nothing.

Shauna knows, on some level, that other people must enjoy those things. She sees them lounging on sun-soaked quads or in quiet coffee shops, heads craned, so thoroughly engrossed in their work that they’re not able to look up. Every time, she twitches a little, envy stomping its feet inside her. She wants that. She wants to be swept into the Zone, that dark, nebulous place that seems to house all the best artists.

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. That’s Hemingway.

Shauna’s willing to cut herself open. She’s just not sure that she’d bleed out anything of worth. She’s seen the insides of things enough times now (animals, mostly, but also technically Coach) to know there’s nothing beautiful there. People are flesh, guts, tendons, and usually, just a little bit of rot. Some have more than most.

Shauna twists, pressing her face into the mattress with a sigh.

There’s a very, very tiny chance all of this might be karma.

Which isn’t really fair. If she knew that having sex with Jeff would upset the universe or whatever, then she probably… still would have done it.

Who is she kidding? It was always going to happen. Because it wasn’t really about him. He was a blip in something already set in motion. 

At some point, long before Jeff even registered in their lives, Shauna had looked at Jackie — her best friend, her other half, her person — and hated her. Only a little bit but enough. Enough for Shauna to want to take everything she had and destroy it.

It’s not the healthiest thing, she knows. Believe her, she’s known for years. She got a full speech from her mom in kindergarten when it came out that she was secretly hoarding Jackie’s dolls and plucking off the heads. (Not the expensive ones, but the little plastic ones she could stuff into her pockets or slip inside her waistband.)

She can’t help it. It’s a bit of a primal thing, maybe, or some fucked up attached-at-the-hip girl shit. The dolls were Jackie’s, so she took them.

Jeff was Jackie’s, so she took him.

Somewhat regretfully.

The whole experience was garbled. Not worth it. He kissed her too soft and used too much tongue and talked more than she could stand. He wasn’t a cheater, he told her, he’d just gotten a few handjobs during the off stages of his and Jackie’s on again off again relationship. He hesitated — “I don’t know, Shauna, I’m kinda not sure this is the right thing to do?” — and it killed her, a bit, that hesitation. It was the type of thing that was too sad-desperate-teenage-girl to say aloud, but there it was. She didn’t want him to hesitate. She wanted him needy and panting at her feet, plying her with flowers and jewelry for the chance at second base. Just like he was with Jackie. It didn’t help to know that his cheating hadn’t extended past the handjobs. Having bumbling, virgin Jeff sit there with a hard-on and still tell her maybe just about made Shauna want to shrivel up and die. How unappealing could she be?

(“You’re not ordering a steak, Jeff.” She ended up snapping at him. “Either fuck me or don’t.”)

Shauna rolls onto her back so she can see her front: her stomach, thighs, tits. How unappealing is she? Like on a scale of one to ten, does she rank below a five? Appealing women don’t sit around alone at night. They go to parties and they socialize and they giggle, all girly, like fucking… Jackie. She’s probably in a sorority or something by now.

The phone starts ringing.

There’s about a sixty percent chance that it’s her mom or Tai, so she abandons the comfort of her bed to stomp over. “Hello?”

Weird silence.

”Hello?” She waits for a moment. “Who’s calling?”

No answer. If she really concentrates, she thinks she can hear someone breathing on the other end. Which is kind of creepy and not in a cool, enjoyable way. 

”Okay, whatever.”

She hangs up. Probably just another pesky reporter.

 

*

 

(That first time, it never occurs to her that it could be Jackie.

Half of what she told Wassup Guy was correct. They did eat a girl out there — they just never finished the process. Shauna can only imagine what scraps of her they left at Rutgers.)

 

*

 

”Do you believe in karma?”

”What, like, karma-karma?”

”Yeah, Tai.” Shauna bites, getting up to blow smoke out the window. Her roommate’s gone, which gives her free reign of the room, as long as she doesn’t leave it stinking like an ash tray. “What other kind of karma is there?”

It makes her feel good, these little weekly calls with Tai. Not just because Tai’s filling the best friend slot better than Jackie, but because it’s sort of cool, right? Being best friends with a lesbian. It’s probably not the best thing to say aloud, but she likes thinking about it. She’s Shauna Shipman, the real one. She smokes, she goes to Brown, she’s cut open a deer, and she’s best friend’s with a lesbian. She’s cultured. She does things. Real people things. The Wiskayok stink drifts from her everyday.

”Well, obviously not.” Tai says. “Bad shit happens to good people all the time. Look at Laura Lee.”

”Morbid.”

”I just mean, it’s ridiculous. Karma’s for children who need to be bribed into doing their homework.” Tai pauses, and Shauna imagines her squinted, analytical eyes. “You’re not thinking about Jackie and Jeff, are you?”

“No.”

”Cause you’ve got to leave that high school shit in the past.”

”I said no.” Shauna coughs into her fist.

”Are you smoking?”

”No.” She huffs for the third time, feeling slightly defensive. Tai’s one of those hardcore, my body’s a temple athletes that never allows herself more than three beers at a time. Shauna, on the other hand, could care less about her body, especially her lungs. “And, really? Just get over it? That’s your advice?”

”I think it’s pretty solid, yeah.”

”Well, thanks. You should be a therapist.”

Tai snorts. “Seriously, Shaun. Forgive yourself. Move on. Find God. Have a quality orgasm for once, I don’t know.”

Which isn’t a bad idea, all things considered. She does sort of miss the strung-out satisfaction that exercise used to give her, and it’s not like she’s joining another sport anytime soon. Sex could be a good distraction, a way to climb out of her head. At the very least, she could find an upgrade from Jeff.

“Sorry, we’re not all making the rounds at Howard.”

“Yeah, well. Few of us are overachievers.”

”Fuck you.” Shauna grumbles with no real anger. This is nice, actually. She never really got the chance to talk about this shit before. Her conversations with Jackie mostly stayed in the oh, he’s cute realm without going much farther. “How are things there, really?”

“Good. You know, acing my classes, going out to parties, giving it the old college try. I’m getting wined and dined by, like, a heiress tonight, so.”

”A heiress?”

”Mhm. She’s taking me out for drinks with daddy’s money.”

”Good for you.” Shauna says, unable to help the slip of bitterness. She wants the best for Tai, really, but she also wants it for herself. All that success.

Why not her? Why can’t the nice things fall into her lap, without struggle or theft? Just once, she’d like to own something pretty without having to go through the trouble of stealing it first.

”Yeah.” Tai replies, like she’s caught on to her tone. (Annoying.) “I meant what I said. Go out. Find some hot, brooding, art boy — or girl.”

”Tai.”

”What? It’s college.”

Shauna rolls the thought around in her mind, chewing her inner cheek. “Yeah, I guess, maybe you’re right.”

Stop being such a fucking loser. Message received.

 

*

 

It’s not like she hasn’t thought about it. The girl thing.

High school was full of funny little jokes about girls soccer teams and steamy locker rooms and high-stamina, carpet munchers. Nothing that she put much weight behind. Small town gossip from small town people — Randy Walsh wiggling his eyebrows at her at a party, “You and Jackie are really close, right?”

She’d smacked him.

She and Jackie were friends, and Randy was a perv with a restraining order on the horizon.

But.

She did see the appeal, sometimes, watching Jackie in the mirror — glossing her lips, curling her lashes, tossing long hair over a slim shoulder. Shauna didn’t think about it too hard back then, but she wasn’t blind. Everyone and their mom knew Jackie was pretty, and everyone in a five mile radius knew they were best friends. So what if they shared a shower stall from time to time? So what if she took a few extra glances in the locker rooms? So what if she occasionally stared below the neck? Did that make her gay?

According to Tai, yes.

(“That’s some textbook lesbian shit.” Tai tells her, laughing right up until Shauna hangs up.)

So, okay. Maybe she’s gay or bisexual or whatever. It’s not a big deal. She’s not one of those stuffy, old women, clutching their pearls over “the queers.” It’s fine. She’s fine.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she slinks into the Harold, which is apparently the only gay bar in town. It’s a bit depressing inside. There’s maybe thirty people sitting around, huddled close to their drinks. It’s all almost too on the nose: the piercings, the tattoo sleeves, the cropped haircuts. But it’s quiet and shadowy, so Shauna can make do.

“Scotch on the rocks.” She tells the bartender, who barely glances at her fake I.D. It kind of tastes like shit, but she’s eaten the bark off a tree before, so. 

The point of alcohol isn’t the taste, anyway. She feels marginally better, sitting in an adult bar with her adult drink.

Shauna sips it while she surveys the women around her. Redhead with a dragon tattoo, perky blonde in a tank top, and a brunette with Misty Quigley curls. She’s not not interested in them, but she’s just not sure how to… approach. Her hands feel too big for her body, and her mouth is dry. How do guys pull this shit off?

“Hey, you from around here?”

She turns at the voice, finding a woman standing just behind her. Early 20s, tan, with a button nose and annoyingly perfect eyebrows. Shauna could probably primp and pluck in front of the mirror for hours and still never get hers to look that way.

“No.” She answers. Then, deciding she should be a bit more forthcoming: “I moved for school.”

”Me, too. I go to RISD.”

”Brown.” Shauna feels only mildly pretentious saying it aloud.

”Ooo.” The woman plops down on the bar stool, sporting a small, interested smile. Her earrings jingle with the motion. “I’m Monica. What’s your name, Einstein?”

Shauna hesitates.

”Jackie.”

 

*

 

Which is how they wind up stumbling into her dorm room, glued together at the lips.

It’s very slightly inconvenient — how the fuck is she supposed to get the key in the door while making out? — but she likes this. A lot. Monica is soft and pliant, breathing tiny moans into the kiss, and she doesn’t complain as Shauna crushes them all with her mouth.

They’re on their way to the bed when the phone rings.

Shauna would ignore it, but it could be her mom. She picks it up, panting. “Hello?”

Silence.

”Hello?”

If it’s a fucking reporter…

”Is this the same caller?” She waits. Nothing. “Great. Real fucking mature. I already said, I’m not talking to any reporters. Leave me alone.”

”Wait? Reporters?” Monica questions as Shauna turns around. She’s giving Shauna the Look. Ugh. “You’re Jackie Taylor, aren’t you? The girl from the news.”

Okay, they’re doing this now. ”Yep. You caught me.”

”Holy shit. Really?”

”Yes, really.” Shauna tries not to roll her eyes. “It was great. I pissed in a bucket, ate a bear, almost killed a man.”

She smiles a bit, like maybe she thinks Shauna’s joking. ”You’re kind of sick, you know that?”

Believe me, I know. Shauna stalks closer, presses two hands to her shoulders, and shoves. The bed bounces beneath the weight of her.

”No talking.” Shauna whispers, raking eyes over her body. Monica nods quickly, getting this sort of jittery, eager rabbit energy to her.

Something about it makes Shauna throb.

 

*

 

The next time she gets a weird phone call, she nearly snaps the damn thing in half. She knows it’s not Tai, since she’d called earlier to gossip about the hookup, and it’s too late at night to be her mom.

And more importantly, Shauna has shit to do. Like actual, life-affecting college shit. She gets that the world is convinced her roughing it in the wilderness is just infinitely interesting, but she has a term paper due tomorrow. That ranks a bit higher than telling the masses about how she ate acorns and wiped her ass with a leaf for months on end.

“Hello? Hello? This isn’t funny. I’m not, like, amused or scared or whatever you want me to be, so just—“

”Hi, Shauna.”

Oh, fuck.

Jackie — real Jackie — sounds vaguely diabolical on the other line. She’s saying a lot without making a lot of sense, but the tone of her voice is low and familiar. It’s her grumpy guys, stop, we’ve got a game to play voice. The one that’s vaguely needy.

And sort of slurred?

”Are you drunk?” Shauna asks, even though she already knows.

She knows all of this, right down to the defiant “no” (yes) Jackie tosses out. She knows Jackie is probably returning from some party, carrying the phone around her dorm room, slinking against something to keep herself upright.

“You’re not the only one that gets to read and, and — fuck and kill things. I can be angry, too.” Jackie continues her furious, rambled tirade. As if she’s ever cracked open a book deeper than Cat In the Hat.

”Okay, Jackie.”

”You pissed me off, and you really hurt my feelings.”

Shauna pauses, the Bad Person Sign flashing in her head again. She didn’t mean to… lead Jackie to alcoholism or whatever it is that’s happening here. She just didn’t want to keep being the something holding her upright. But—

”I know. Drink some water.”

Old habits die hard, right? Maybe she doesn’t know how to be anything else. It’s kind of a tragic thought. Being frozen in time until Jackie restarts her.

”No.” Same defiant tone. “I don’t want water. I want… ice.”

Shauna drums her fingers against the desk, quick. Jackie only asks for ice when she has a hickey.

”Ice?”

”Got a hickey.”

Which is fine. Everyone fucks around in college, including her. She just didn’t think Jackie would — but of course she did. If everyone’s doing something, Jackie will, too.

Still. It’s a surprise. Jackie barely let Jeff touch her all four years, and now she’s getting branded by some guy she just met?

“Oh.” Shauna isn’t quite sure she has the capacity to start giggling and gabbing about boys, if that’s what Jackie wants. “Do you?”

”Yeah. I do.” This voice, too, is familiar. Braggy. Picture the two of them, fourteen years old, Jackie dragging her up to her room: don’t be mad I got a boyfriend before you. I’m sure you’ll get asked out soon, Shauna!

Shauna kind of wants to kick her.

”Okay, was it—“ Was it good? Was it fun? When did it happen? Where? All the questions seem too gossipy. “I mean, are you seeing someone?”

“No.” Jackie answers. “It was just some guy. Brian.”

Brian. Leave it to Jackie to leave Wiskayok and still find the dullest fucking guy with the dullest possible fucking name in the universe. With her track record, he’s probably some blonde, hare-brained, fumbling douchebag with a tiny dick.

And anyway:

“Just some guy?” Shauna repeats. She distinctly remembers Jackie saying that college was no excuse to become a slut. “What happened to sex being special? Only to be done on a romantic bed of rose petals.”

Jackie laughs.

Shauna’s funny, is the thing — another hit on the long list of things Jackie never appreciated about her.

“Well, I wanted to lose it to my boyfriend, but that idea’s out the window, isn’t it?” Jackie snaps, suddenly surly. Drinking always did give her mood swings.

Shauna massages her forehead, sighing. She wonders how long Jackie’s had that one in the chamber. “Okay, I get it, you’re pissed about Jeff—“

Jackie sputters something out drunkenly, but Shauna pushes ahead. Her threshold for the Jeff topic is low.

“—but you said you didn’t want to get Natalie levels of easy in college—“

“I’m not easy.” Jackie interrupts, indignant.

It’s ironic, really. Old Jackie would call any girl who hooked up with “just some guy” a slut. Old Jackie would hold her head high and maintain her no hands below the waist rule. Old Jackie was above it all. Shauna was the bottom feeder.

Is this what’s bound to happen? The two of them, caught in some sort of endless cycle? Switching places, over and over again?

Shauna stands. She really needs a drink.

“Alright, sorry. Forget I said anything.” She kneels by her bed, rummaging through the items stuffed beneath it. The lack of storage space in her dorm has reduced her to a cliche — a teenager, hiding alcohol underneath her bed. “What are you drinking?”

“Wine.”

She waits, letting out a little annoyed sigh when Jackie doesn’t elaborate. White or red? Is it sweet and floral or dark and staining her lips?

“What type of wine, Jackie?”

“It’s, red, uh Buccella Mica Cabernet?” 

Shauna suppresses a snort. So, her pronunciation hasn’t improved since high school French.

Still. Red. Buccella Mica Cabernet. Expensive, for a college girl, but Jackie’s always liked finer things. She’s probably swirling it around, taking dignified sips, mimicking her mom.

Shauna drinks straight from the bottle and smacks her lips.

(Mentally, she applauds herself for her lack of cough. Jackie always used to choke and sputter over every little drop.)

“What are you drinking?” Jackie asks. Note the incoming judgment.

“Whiskey.”

There’s a prissy, disgusted noise on the other end. “Ew.”

Shauna laughs, and there’s a perverse pleasure in it. It’s the same feeling that had her flinging dirt and following Jackie around with worms as kids. “You still can’t stomach more than a cocktail, can you?”

“I can.” Jackie says, testily. “It’s just gross.”

“Right, okay.”

“I can. ” Her voice comes indignant, childlike. Two steps away from a foot stomp and a tantrum. Shauna can picture it: the pout on her mouth, the annoyed flush on her cheeks. Soft spots to prod at.

“I said okay.” Shauna replies, unkindly.

“You’re being a dick.” Jackie says, and she’s right. Shauna doesn’t know why she’s… doing what she’s doing. Riling Jackie up. “You don’t even like whiskey, either. You’re just faking it.”

 “I’m faking it?” Shauna repeats, setting the bottle down a little harder than she means to. “Really? That’s rich.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I don’t know what you mean. Like Jackie didn’t spend four years with a boyfriend she didn’t like, playing captain to a team she couldn’t control, walking the halls with a best friend she barely respected. 

”Yes, you do. Yes, you do.” Shauna repeats herself, fervent, rushed with alcohol. “I bet you joined a sorority or something and started sleeping with a bunch of frat boy Brents—“

“Brian.”

”Brian, whoever,” she amends, flippant, on a roll, “just to forget the fact that you’re hollow inside, like one of those porcelain dolls your mom used to buy. Pretty, sure, but not much else.”

The words sit, heavy, between them.

Shauna’s hand is a fist around the bottle, primed to crush something.

“That’s not true.” Jackie murmurs, and it’s odd, the way she says it, her breathing high and strained… yet not pained. Shauna wonders where her limit is. If there is one.

She feels savage. Vaguely animal. On the prowl, with the knife back in her hand. “Sure. What are you majoring in, anyway? Fashion?”

“Yeah.”

Shauna grinds the point in deep. “Sounds fun.”

“It is.” Jackie barely tries to defend herself. She barely protests. She barely even sounds angry. It’s almost like—

The line goes dead abruptly.

“Jackie?”

But she’s gone and so is the thought.

 

*

 

Days pass. Shauna spends each one of them in a fog, angered beyond reason. Jackie doesn’t call again, but she’s there anyway, like a tick beneath the skin. Shauna catches a stripe of brown hair and thinks of Jackie, hears a bubbly laugh and thinks of Jackie, sees a stray soccer ball on the street and — and she’s not supposed to be thinking about Jackie at all, goddamn it, but she is. She is, and it’s all Jackie’s fault for calling. Shauna should’ve known better. Jackie used to do this kind of thing when they were kids: draw in the margins of Shauna’s essays, clap her hands together in silences, sit up and say Shauna, Shauna, look at me. Shauna wasn’t allowed a second without Jackie, much less a whole life.

She should’ve known better.

 

*

 

Jackie does call her again — just to tell her that she sucks.

“You fucking suck, you know that?”

It’s great.

“Yeah.” Shauna sighs and accepts it without argument.

That’s the heart of the issue, she supposes. At some point in their friendship, she became Jackie’s dumpster.

*

 

“I’ve branched out.” She tells Tai. She tells her about the girls — the blondes and the brunettes she’s been taking home from the bar and pinning to her mattress.

(A new girl every night. She’s learned women are blood-hot and slick inside and when she crooks her fingers, just right, they make the prettiest noises. Almost pain-sounding.)

She tells Tai all of it. Sort of. Everything but Jackie.

 

*

 

When the phone rings again, Shauna is thinking about tearing her hair out of her skull.

Her annoyance isn’t Jackie related, this time. She’s just got done with Shakespeare 101 (dull) and a group project (mind-numbing), and all she wants is a nap or a punching bag to throw her fists against. She doesn’t know what she expected from Brown. A built-in dumbass shield?

“Hello? Jackie, is that you?” She’s met by ominous breathing. Definitely Jackie. “Do I still fucking suck?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.” Shauna shrugs off her backpack, letting it fall from her shoulder with a heavy thump.

She’s in the middle of untying her laces when Jackie springs hell on her: “So, Jeff. You never told me — was he at least good at it?”

“Jesus.” She inhales, tugging the boot off her heel. “Have you ever thought about just starting this off with hello?” 

“Cheaters don’t get hellos. Answer the question.”

I never cheated, she thinks about saying, I wasn’t your boyfriend.

Semantics.

“He was…” He was Jeff. What else is there to say? “Okay. That wasn’t what it was about.”

”What was it about?”

God, that’s a question she doesn’t have the breath to answer.

“Nothing.” Shauna replies, meaning everything. She doesn’t even know how to explain. She’s sorry, and she’s not sorry, and it felt necessary, but what if it wasn’t? “Just stupid high school shit. Nothing.”

“You traumatized me, you know, with your deceit.” Jackie tells her, matter of fact. 

Shauna rolls her eyes. Traumatized? Really? “Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.” She says, lightly. It’s not a proper apology, but come on, it’s a Friday night. Jackie’s probably not expecting her to pour her heart out while she pregames for whatever juvenile, frat party she’ll be attending tonight. “How drunk are you right now? Scale of one to ten?”

“Not at all.” Jackie makes that little hum she does when she’s sucking her bottom lip. “Zero, I guess.”

Yeah, like that’s the truth. Jackie hasn’t spent a sober night in since she was sixteen. “Zero? So you’re sitting alone on the weekend, calling me, sober. What about all your friends?”

She imagines Jackie amongst a group of Taylors or Brittanys, girls more interested in braiding each other’s hair than showing up to class. Each one slim and gorgeous and generic. All of them sweet, but terribly jealous next to Jackie, loving her and hating her at the same time. 

Just like Shauna did.

She doubts Jackie could walk a mile without picking up a couple of groupies.

Jackie’s being oddly modest about it. “They’re… around.”

Which means they’re not.

“Around?”

“I don’t have to tell you.”

“Right, ‘cause that’s how all good phone calls go. No talking whatsoever.” Shauna grumbles. She wonders why Jackie even called. “You’re seriously not going to tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” Lie. “Why would something be up?”

”Jackie.”

”Shauna.”

She scrubs a hand down her face, annoyed. Jackie’s acting so weird. She’s been acting weird for a while, calling at strange hours and giving vague answers and just like… phone lurking, basically.

“Come on, don’t be a brat. I’m not in the mood to play whatever game this is. Obviously you want something, if you’re calling.”

Jackie’s voice has gone high and strained, her breath the single sound on the other line. It comes out uneven, in tiny bursts, each one of them pulled taut. “You think I’m a brat?”

Shauna stills. “I think you’re needy.”

“Yeah?” Jackie asks. Shauna closes her eyes and presses the phone up to her ear as hard as it will go to catch that thread of a whine.

It almost sounds like she’s begging.

Shauna can see it. Her big eyes, those flushed cheeks, the air of nerves around wanting something. Sitting alone in an empty dorm room, clinging to her phone. Shauna, Shauna, look at me. 

“Yeah.” She says, slow, her stomach turning over, rolling and rolling with heat. “All the calling, it’s desperate. What do you even want, Jackie?”

“I don’t know.” Another lie. 

“You don’t know?” She borderline snaps the word out, and Jackie makes a strangled noise. Christ. She can’t really be…

“I don’t know.” Jackie breathes. “I’m… m’sorry.”

Shauna tightens her hold on the phone. She knows those noises, now. The little gasps and the pitchy moans girls make right before they come.

Is this what she’s been calling for?

“I’m not your lapdog anymore. I can’t cross state lines to come lick your wounds.” Shauna speaks on autopilot, half meaning it, half not. A valve has ripped open inside of her. She feels as if she’s been placed in some kind of fever dream without morals or bounds. No limit to what she can say or what she can do. “What? Are you ignoring me now? Seriously, you called me. You’re such a child sometimes.”

“Say that again.” Jackie interrupts, too loud. Too eager.

“What?”

“That, what you—“

”That you’re a child?” Shauna wishes she could see Jackie’s face, feel this out on something other than sound alone. “That’s what you called to hear?”

”Yeah.” Jackie admits. There’s a pause. A wet sound, like she might be licking her lips. “Yeah, maybe.”

Shauna can’t believe the weight of that single second.

Her nerves are heightened, every one of them wound tight around the phone cord.

“You need constant attention. You’re not happy unless there’s someone there to play with you.” The words are easy to find. She’s been walking around with them in her pocket for years. “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.”

Jackie grits out a string of moans so suddenly it’s striking. She sounds torn open and raw, close to tears, the noises equal parts pleasure and pain. She sobs like Shauna is twisting the knife in her.

Shauna panics, a little. “Jackie? Jackie, are you still there? Are you, um…”

She’s not really sure what’s appropriate to ask, which is ridiculous, in retrospect, but—

The call ends.

Shauna lets the phone slip from her hand, sliding it mutely into the receiver. She rests her palms on her knees. Stares at the wall for a while, wondering what she’s done.

Wondering how she could have liked it.

Chapter 4

Notes:

and back to the destructive, sexual shenanigans we go

CW: bodychecking, general ED content

Jackie takes a shower after. It seems like the thing to do.

She’s sitting in her desk chair, and she’s, um — dirty is the adjective that she’s being forced to use here, unfortunately.

Shifting, she tests the new sensations. The wetness of her thighs, the short breath, the way her body’s still pliant and open, like it’s been scraped out.

Yeah. Dirty.

(Underneath the spray, she stands for what seems like forever, savoring the heat, scrubbing, trying to make herself clean. But she can’t. Can’t be clean. Can’t be anything. All she can do is rub the soap in, up over her pointed shoulders and jutting spine. Her skeleton, really. I’m skin and bone, she thinks, wrapping the thought around herself like a lifeline. I might have called Shauna, but I didn’t eat, so it’s okay, so I’m—)

”Hey.” A couple of giggling girls catch her eye and nod as they pass her in the hall.

“Hey.” She says back, smiling lightning-quick, in a manner that she hopes comes across as at least somewhat real.

The smile drops as soon as she’s shut herself inside of her room, back pressed firm to the door once again. It doesn’t seem right to socialize. They don’t know that she’s made the transition from Normal Jackie into Pervert Jackie, who apparently humps chairs.

Shit.

She’d really just — called Shauna — and yep, yeah.

Shit. Double shit. Triple shit if there could even be a triple shit, oh god.

Jackie stares at the floor for a very long while.

She thinks she might have to die now?

What’s the protocol on this, outside of a shameful death in a college dorm room? She can’t imagine just waking up the next day and going back to class, even though she could. It’s not like Shauna is here. It’s not like she has her number. It’s not even like they’re friends — and for perfectly good reasons because awesome-orgasm-giver or not, Shauna still fucks other people’s boyfriends, and she’s, she’s… not nice. She’s kind of a mean person, actually, in a way that now seems innate. Jackie isn’t sure how she never noticed before.

I don’t even know who you are anymore. That same argument, replaying in her head for the hundredth time. Watery, defiant eyes. Spit words. Her world, falling right off its axis. Or maybe you never did.

Is she a mean person? Or simply just stupid and unobservant? It has to be one of the three.

Maybe she should have paid more attention. All those times Shauna complained or scowled or snuck off to some corner to brood, Jackie had assumed she was just moody. They were teenage girls. They were all moody. Maybe she should have realized Shauna was different moody. Maybe she should have done better — but then, she’d at least done her part in keeping her vagina to herself. It’s not her fault that Shauna’s a backstabber and a slut.

Really? I’m the slut here? A voice in her head appears automatically. Guess whose?

”Fuck you, Shauna.” Jackie says aloud. Blunt and loud in the empty space of the room. “You shouldn’t have picked up.”

The answer to this, of course, would be then you shouldn’t have called, but Shauna’s not around to actually respond.

Still, Jackie goes on. ”If you had so much to say, you should have manned up years ago and just said something instead of sneaking around and—“

She sucks in a breath to keep the emotion away, the words choking her throat. She’s always cried easily.

“You should’ve talked to me. I would have listened.“ 

The room doesn’t reply.

 

*

 

For the next few days, Jackie does relatively well. In her opinion, anyways. She drags herself from class to class without end and spends all her free time on non-Shauna related things — exercising, studying, sorority-ing. The works.

That’s the one upside of her social life. It keeps her busy. And she needs to be kept busy. Needs to be kept distracted.

If she isn’t, then she’ll just spend the week replaying the whole phone call over in her head and that’s—

“Jackie?” Someone says from behind her.

She jumps at the noise, startling upright. There’s a thud, and she realizes she’s swept the textbook clear off her desk. Crap. Embarrassment seeps into her cheeks as her eyes dart around the lecture hall, but most people aren’t even looking, let alone staring. One of them, she recognizes. A blonde from Delta Phi.

”Uh, yeah?” She asks, diving clumsily and groping for the textbook. “What is it?”

“You were falling asleep.”

”Oh.”

”And your stomach was rumbling.”

”Oh.” Her knee starts bouncing, seemingly all on its own. Quit it, knee.

”Loudly.”

Jackie gets a hand on her textbook — score — and sets it down, finally. “Okay, great, thank you.”

When class ends, she bolts because what the fuck else is she going to do? Stick around and make small talk about her eating habits? Ha.

The girls are always inviting her out to food-related places. Lunch or dinner or that little shop down the road that does just the best lemon cupcakes, and oh my god, Jackie, we so have to go. So, she’d gone, dutifully, and she’d gotten those lemon cupcakes, then failed at eating a single one. It was something about the frosting. Too sweet, too sugary — it was almost grotesque to think about it melting in her mouth, all the carbs and the fat soaking into her body, poisoning her. Just taking a bite had made her feel too sick to talk. She figures she’s proved herself terrible company, but against all odds, the invites continue to funnel in.

They know now. They’ve noticed how thin you’re getting, and they’re jealous. They can’t stand it. They don’t actually want to hangout with you. They just want to make you fat, so they feel better about themselves. You can’t let them. You have to beat them all, you have to win.

She will win.

Whatever the game is, whoever the players are. She feels just like she used to in high school, right before they absolutely crushed a game. Feral and energized and alive.

She’s steamrolling through the days without a meal, charging down the field, gaining momentum. Don’t eat, don’t eat, don’t eat. A soon-to-be victory chant. She doesn’t even need food these days. She doesn’t. The whole three meals a day thing? A huge, fat lie, it turns out. She feels fucking fine. Feels better, even, as if everything that was wrong with her could be flushed out once digested. She just needs a few more days. A few more days, and the waste that’s inside will flood out, and she’ll be left to shine like true porcelain, empty and clean. She’ll be perfect enough to call Shauna and — for once — not flinch at the sound of her voice when she does. She just needs to hold out, stop being so hungry.

Stop being so hungry.

Stop being so hungry.

Shit, her chest hurts. Jackie speeds up, shoving her way across campus, head down, feet a blur.

Stop being so hungry.

Stop being hungry.

You’re not hungry.

You’re not hungry.

You’re not.

You don’t even deserve to eat.

I don’t know why you—

She cuts left into an alleyway between buildings, squeezing in to catch her breath.

Okay, maybe she does need a nap or an apple or something, just to keep the doctor away. Whatever. There’s strawberries in her mini fridge, so close enough. That’ll be fine.

Everything’ll be fine. Just a bit longer, just until Thanksgiving break, until she sees Shauna.

Jackie closes her eyes and imagines herself stepping into Wiskayok for the first time again, nothing in her stomach, so skinny she looks wrung out, hollowed. It’s deeply comforting. 

She’ll be thin enough, then, and normal, too. She’ll be all hello, yes, Shipman, I will in fact eat that lemon cupcake, thank you.

Jackie sighs and cautiously tilts off the wall she’s been leaning against, testing her legs to see if she’s still shaky or lightheaded. She feels alright, though, so she steps back out into the fray, where a group of scruffy-looking stoners are playing hacky sack. Then, she stops, does a double-take, and realizes she knows one of those scruffy-looking stoners.

“Natalie?”

When she calls out, the shaggy, bleach blonde head over there jerks hard and coughs, smoke billowing everywhere. Yep. Definitely her.

”Jackie?” Nat squints as she approaches. “That you?”

”That’s me.” Jackie hooks her thumbs into the straps of her bag, bouncing on her toes. It’s weird to see Nat here, in the middle of the quad, with people. In her mind, Nat only exists alongside the team, inside the walls of Wiskayok High or its field or… elsewhere. Out there. Jackie shakes the memory away. Nat is here, and her hands are holding a hacky sack rather than a rifle. That’s all that matters. “I didn’t know you went to school here.”

”Uh, I don’t.” Nat says with a glance behind at the guys lounging on the grass, slumped and lazy in the dwindling sunlight. Jackie sees about four different bongs. “College is the best place for cheap weed.”

Jackie laughs. “Fair enough.”

There’s a twitch of surprise on Nat’s face. “Do you smoke or…?”

”No, no, not recently or anything. I just had class.”

”Ah.”

”I’m, you know, scholar-ing.”

What the fuck is she saying? Jackie decides to go ahead and let her mouth plop closed.

”Scholar-ing, okay.” Nat runs a hand through her hair, which appears freshly re-dyed. No more brown roots. She looks lighter now, too. Less pale, more of a healthy flush to her cheeks. “Sorry, I guess I just didn’t think you were doing college.”

Jackie frowns, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be doing college?”

Nat takes a second to answer, seeming to struggle to find the right words. She finally settles on: “Most of us aren’t.”

Meaning: most of us were too traumatized by the fiery crash and the months spent in Canada’s creepiest wilderness to return to our lives.

Jackie gets it. She does. She’d considered all the therapy and the gap year and the healing, it’s just…

“Yeah, well, Shauna is.” She shrugs.

Silence. Nat just stares at her. Long enough that she squirms. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t think you two would still be like…” Nat trails off, and Jackie twitches, bites the inside of her cheek. Still be like what? But Nat doesn’t continue, shaking herself. “Whatever. Nothing. Y’know, it’s actually kinda cool seeing you. We should catch up or something.”

The actually stings a little — but okay. Jackie’s kinda cool. She’ll take it.

“Sure.”

*

 

The first urge that Jackie has afterwards is to call and tell Shauna. This first urge is pathetic.

(She doesn’t go through the trouble of pretending to be above it.)

 

*

 

“I saw Nat yesterday.”

“Scatorccio?”

“We only knew one.”

Jackie sits back in her chair, throwing her feet up. She’s never sure how to start these conversations. Hey, Shipman, did you get hit by a car yet? I saw our mutual friend, Nat — remember, you knew her from before you screwed me. Also, could you really screw me? Certain things can hardly be said aloud.

“Yeah,” Shauna snorts, sounding amused, “and you called her a slut all four years.” 

”I resent that. People change.”

”Didn’t she call you an uptight, frigid little bitch?”

”People change.” Jackie repeats, huffing. “And why do you remember the exact word choice?”

”Let’s just say, I admired her bravery.”

Jackie rolls that one around in her mouth — along with the wine she’s sipping at — testing the taste of it. She’s getting very good at detecting Shauna’s subtle digs, her little insults. Her temper. She thinks she could really piss Shauna off, if she tried. “Yeah, I guess it helps when people are upfront.”

Quiet on the other line.

“Okay, Jackie.” Shauna sighs. “Nice one.”

“You know,” Jackie presses, “when people tell the truth—“

“Jackie.”

“—and don’t lie blatantly.”

“Okay, did you call to be as annoying as physically possible?” Shauna grumbles into the phone. “Or are you just so desperate to be bullied that you have to pester me every night?”

Jackie opens her mouth and, since she’s the only one in the room, lets it hang. She sits, staring. A burst of laughter passes outside the shut door. She hadn’t expected to be called out so quickly.

Sure, the way they left things last time was somewhat incriminating, and sure, Jackie hasn’t exactly been consistent with her greetings, but…

“It hasn’t been every night.” She protests feebly, after a moment, still too sober for the real answer.

“Might as well be.” Shauna presses. “Seriously, what is it this time, if we’re not doing small talk? Do you want me to help you with some fucked up, guilt thing? Are you bored? Tired? Sad? Lonely? All of the above?”

“No, no, I just…” Jackie sucks in a breath. Her chest feels hot and tight like she’s climbed the stairs too fast, like she’s seizing. She closes her eyes and sees Shauna there through a blurry film reel, submerged in water. Shauna in her crummy car, in fifth period, in the attic of her mom’s house, instead of the one out there. Somewhere in her head, she’s still sitting in the snow, fingers crossed, waiting for that version of Shauna to arrive, flannel-soft and seemingly warm. Comforting her, holding her heart, whispering I love you, Jackie. But alongside that, there’s a part of her — small yet growing — that’s simply waiting for Shauna to prowl down the cabin steps with a well-sharpened knife. She’s holding her breath for an I love you that comes permanently, with scars.

”Just?” Shauna prompts.

Jackie releases the breath along with her fingers, unfurling them from where they’d been clenched in a fist. Five fingers, five little bones, all of them shifting beneath her skin. Visible yet not enough. Maybe a common theme. Visible yet not enough, captain yet not enough, in love yet not enough.

Stop being so hungry. It jumps into her mind as an admonishment, another slap to the wrist from her mom. Put the fork down.

She doesn’t know how.

She doesn’t know if she’s, well — G-A-Y — but she does know that she wants. So badly. It’s rolling hot in her gut. Her desire’s burning across time, here. Hell, it’s practically middle-aged at this point.

It might even be nice, she thinks. It could even feel good to lull her head back and offer up her throat willingly, on her own terms. If it’s what she wants. 

And it is.

“You’re my best friend.” Jackie thumbs over the rim of her glass, lip trapped between her teeth. “Why don’t you tell me?”

”You want me to guess what you’re up to?” Shauna asks slowly.

”Yeah? Why not? Could be fun.”

Something odd is tinting her voice. “Fun? Like last time?”

”Yeah.” Now something odd is tinting her voice. She swallows, heart beating in the back of her throat, and continues, shakily, “yeah, like last time.”

“You mean, last time where you hung up?”

“That was — I was — sick.” Jackie splutters, internally cringing. She goes ahead and starts chugging the wine.

”Sick?”

”Yeah. It’s… cold out. Flu season. I freeze easily.”

“Okay.” Shauna hums once, shortly. “Go on. I like your bullshit, actually. I prefer it to you hanging up after you come.”

Jackie freezes.

Not stuck-in-the-literal-cold freezes, but her body goes rigid, every muscle pulling taut.

Fuck.

”I…” She tries. “I don’t…”

”…know what I’m talking about?” Shauna interjects smoothly. “Yeah, doubt that. You’re not subtle, Jackie. In fact, you’re kind of loud. I really didn’t expect you to just start whimpering right off the bat, but—“

”Gimme a minute.”

Jackie stands abruptly, chair jolting back. She paces the room like a ghost for a moment, staring at the walls, slapping herself — what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck — with her bare hands — she knows, she knows, she knows — before dropping back into the chair just as suddenly.

Her pulse is thundering in her ears.

The phone is dangling off the desk.

Okay. She grabs the wine and drains it in one inelegant gulp. Game time.

As soon as she raises it to her ear, Shauna’s tentative voice greets her. “Hello? Jackie? You still there?”

”I’m still here.” Jackie confirms lowly.

“Are you going to try and hang up again?” Shauna prods, causing an embarrassed flush to rise in her.

She chews her lip. “No.”

”Good. The dramatics are tiring, you know.”

”I wasn’t being—“

”Ah, don’t interrupt. I wasn’t done talking.” Shauna says, and Jackie reacts instantaneously, mouth clicking closed. “It’s a funny coincidence, actually. Jeff never could last for more than a minute. Figures you’re the same.”

She can fucking feel the satisfaction radiating off of Shauna from miles away.

”Screw you, Shauna.” Jackie spouts indignantly, even though receiving the insult feels — oddly, strangely — good. Like something solid has slid into place.

“Screw you back.” Shauna replies without missing a beat. “Stop acting like you’re mad about Jeff. You aren’t, really. And I’m not, either. I don’t even know why you went out with him. The little fuck can’t tell right from his left, much less get anyone off.”

The pure contempt in her voice takes Jackie by surprise. She thought Shauna would at least tolerate the guy she imploded their friendship over. “Come on, that’s—“

”Don’t defend him.” Shauna cuts in sharply. “He cheated on you. Grow a spine. This is why we left you in that closet.”

”Hey, I have a spine.” Jackie snaps.

And how dare you bring up the closet incident?

“Yeah? You can’t even tell the truth about what you want.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Then, what—“

”I just want you to do what you did last time.” She blurts all at once, words stringing together. “The stuff you were saying about me…” She takes a second, swallows. “I want you to say it again. Like before. Please.”

Nothing, for a second, then:

”Take off your pants, Jackie.”

”What?” Jackie asks, even though she heard her. Shauna’s voice had been clear enough — firm and direct.

“Take off your pants.” Shauna repeats. She’s for real saying that. Those are words coming out of her mouth. “Or your pajama shorts, I guess. I know it’s late.”

Jackie glances down and yes, yeah, okay, she is wearing shorts, and she’s not sure how the hell Shauna guessed, but—

Oh. Right. Shauna has gutted her before. It only makes sense, that she knows Jackie down to her insides. That she already knew Jackie wanted this.

God, why do I want this?

She thinks she must be seriously fucked up, lifting her hips so she can slip the shorts off. She pulls them down — a brief brush of thumbs over jutting hipbones — and kicks them aside jerkily, as if that’ll keep her from potentially chickening out. The room’s air blows over her, cooler than expected on damp skin, touching her lightly, where she’s starkly bare. She squirms, refusing to look down.

“Okay, I did it.” Vagina officially out.

”Jesus, that easily?” Shauna makes a noise of astonishment, somehow cruel, like she’s laughing at her for listening. “I cannot believe I let you call the shots for eighteen years. Seriously. You’ve been like this for a while haven’t you? You try to hide it, but underneath it all, you’re so needy. I bet you can even feel it.”

Jackie wonders if that’s a hint. It certainly walks like a hint and talks like a hint. Belatedly deciding that it must be, she snakes a hand down, doing exactly as suggested — feeling. The edges of her fingers slip against the inside of her thigh, and it’s so annoying, so utterly and incredibly irritating to meet the trap of heat there. Still, still, Shauna seems to know her better than she knows herself. 

Needy is the exact right word to describe the way it pours from her. Her body clenches around nothing, as if it’s chewing air. It’s like a plead, that telltale, rabid pound of arousal, begging for her to shift her hips closer, closer, one last inch. Touch me, touch me, touch me.

Jackie listens and — oh.

“Having fun over there?” Shauna prompts at the sound of whatever noise she just made. It’s not a question that needs an answer. Shauna knows. Shauna can hear her. “You know, it’s good you ran into Nat. Now you can apologize. All those years, all that talk about you being above having a fucking orgasm, and look at you, spreading your legs just as easily.”

“Shauna.” Jackie groans, dropping her head to the desk.

It’s devastating, Shauna’s words a white hot rush, slamming into her like a brick wall. Her sweaty forehead slides against the wood, slippery, out of control, while her fingers slip inside herself in much the same manner. She bears down on them, frantic, needing more and more, thinking Shauna and please and fuck me. The goddamn phone nearly slips right out of her grasp. Shauna’s right, she’s always right, and when Jackie presses in a second finger — whimpering, splitting open — it cuts into her as easily as a butcher’s knife. 

“Over the phone, too. No one even has to touch you.” Shauna goes on without pause, as if she hadn’t said anything at all. Her voice remains strong, unyielding, continuous. “You’re a hypocrite, Jackie. What’s worse, you’re a slut.”

“Jesus, that’s, fuck.” She whines, blind, horny babble, tumbling out nonsensically.

“You should say it.” Shauna pushes, almost conversationally. 

“What?” She can’t understand, not fully, not with the roaring in her ears.

“Come on, use a brain cell.” Another fucked-out little moan spills from Jackie. “Say it.”

“I’m — I’m a slut.” Jackie breathes, stuttering over it and then sliding right in, the admission burning hot beneath her skin, a sob parting her lips. The slap of humiliation makes her gush, a puddle of wetness leaking into her palm and down her wrist. She can’t do much but tremble and grind her hips back and forth, back and forth, catching her clit each time, practically crying. Real tears sting her eyes. She’s so sensitive, and it’s all so much, she doesn’t know how to deal with it. She feels out of her mind, like she could chew right through her own arm or come apart any second. Just unravel in Shauna’s hands and let her talk and talk and do with Jackie as she pleases, because she’s nothing more than a slut and a fucktoy and — wow, Jesus, this is really going to make her come.

“That’s right. Needy thing. Don’t you dare move the phone.” Shauna warns, as if she can sense Jackie’s close just by hearing her. Jackie goes ahead and nestles it right up near her mouth. “God, you’re so desperate for approval, you’d do anything, let just about anyone fuck you. It’s embarrassing. I bet you’d have let the whole team have a go, if only it’d get them to actually like you. Could’ve been nice, too. You’d be more useful bent over than on the field—“

Jackie’s orgasm shoots inward, strong as a bolt of lightning. Her eyes clench hard, and she releases a muffled cry, mouth jammed up against the phone, fingers curling upwards inside her.

Mother of god, she feels like she’s been shot.

“See?” Shauna asks, her voice a little strained for some reason. “What’d I say? That was barely a minute.”

Jackie extracts her fingers with a bit of a sharp exhale, moving them into the light. They’re pruned and glistening, coated in so much slick it looks like webbing. Inexplicably, she wants them in her mouth.

She raises her hand, only to stop short.

Wait. What if it actually has calories…

…shit.

“Shut up.” Jackie grumbles, frowning for a second longer before decidedly wiping her hand along her sleeve. Better not to take any chances.

Shauna laughs, a light, genuine laugh that feels crueler than anything. Jackie goes still at the sound of it, her chest flickering to life, entirely against her will.

“You’re mean.” She adds, once the feeling fades. She doesn’t just mean the sex stuff.

“I don’t think you want me to be nice.” Shauna returns, easily enough. It’s somewhat fair.

“I don’t know where you got that impression.” Jackie forces out a joke, even though she can feel her confidence fleeting by the second. She’s rewarded with more of an exhale through the nose than a laugh.

They’re quiet, then. Unexpectedly. Slowing down, the heat rolling cold. Both of them just breathing, almost in tandem again.

Jackie readjusts her grip on the phone. The most irrational urge claws at her insides. She thinks, for a second, that if she could just find the right words, say the right thing, then they’d—

“I have an 8AM class on Monday.” Shauna tells her swiftly, clipped. “Don’t call Sunday night.”

This time, Jackie isn’t the one to hang up.

Chapter 5

Notes:

just the usual content warnings for this one

CW: disordered eating, general ED thoughts

Meeting Nat for coffee is surprisingly not that weird.

Admittedly, she’d been a teensy bit worried. Back in high school, they weren’t really friends, per se, more reluctant teammates. Nat liked to duck out before first period to hang around the other burnouts, and Jackie liked to stay sober before 8AM. That meant they mostly steered clear of each other off the field.

And then there was the “uptight prudish little bitch” thing and the Travis thing and the locked in a closet thing and… a lot could go wrong, okay?

(Actually, everything could go wrong. Time has certainly proven that to her.)

But it doesn’t.

She takes Nat to a cafe nearby, where it won’t be too suspicious if she springs for green tea and air and complains about being full from breakfast.

She’s getting very good at lying about meals that she’s never eaten.

What she’s not getting at is managing the hunger. She doesn’t need a full meal, she knows that. It’s not even necessary, really. She just needs to grit her teeth a little longer or try something small or maybe half of something small. A quarter of a muffin or a fruit cup or one of those cranberry-almond granola bars she saw near the register. She hadn’t gotten a chance to check the nutrition label on that last one, but she could circle back around and see if it’s lower than—

There are fingers snapping in front of her face.

”Hey, earth to Jackie.” Nat says, frowning. “You sure you don’t want some of my sandwich? You look like a zombie.”

She nudges the plate closer to her. It’s some kind of dull-looking, ham and cheese combo that’s not worth the calories.

”I’m fine, thanks.” Jackie presses on a smile. “Big breakfast.”

”Suit yourself.” Nat shrugs and sweeps the rest into her mouth casually, without a moment of thought. Not for the first time, Jackie’s deeply jealous.

Nat might have not been team captain, and she might’ve always kinda-sorta smelled like beer and old cigarettes, but she also always managed to seem so… cool. Unaffected. Nothing ever bothered her for very long. Whatever it was, she’d throw a punch, break a glass, and forget about it. That was Nat.

It wasn’t Jackie.

She wished it was. Sort of. She could do without being publicly branded a druggie or a slut. The rest of it, though? The brashness, the devil-may-care attitude, and the ability to down a sandwich without gaining a pound? Yeah, she wouldn’t mind some of that.

“I just haven’t been getting much sleep with classes.” Jackie adds, as an explanation for the zombie comment.

Nat nods, still chewing. “Yeah, I noticed, you’re a little…”

She makes a so-so gesture near her head.

Jackie rolls her eyes. “I need a nap, not a death bed. Besides, this head got us to Nationals, remember?”

Nat snorts. “Some prize that was.”

“We were going to be undefeated.”

”And we ended up shitting in buckets.”

”Yeah, well.” Jackie takes a (slightly moody) sip of her tea. “No pain, no gain.”

Nat laughs.

Jackie’s head shoots up — it’s not funny, they were robbed of crushing the competition, but—

“No pain, no gain? What, like dropping a deuce helped our footwork?” Nat looks genuinely amused, which is nice. It certainly isn’t bad. It’s actually a pretty high point on the social interaction scale.

Okay. Maybe it is kinda funny.

”No.” Jackie continues, somewhat carefully, hoping her joke will land. “It was the wilderness, actually.”

Nat barks out a laugh, loud enough to draw eyes to them. The pinched-faced man sitting behind them glances over, annoyed. She hardly seems to notice. “Fuck. Fuck, I forgot. We won, thanks to the trees.”

”And the bear.”

“Yeah, that weird, diseased—“

“I fucking knew it was diseased.” Jackie bursts out, almost knocking her drink over — an act that catches several people’s attention. She shrinks. “Sorry.”

Nat just shakes her head, one hand over her mouth, shoulders still shaking. Jackie feels warm, her nerves momentarily displaced. It’s nice to have evidence someone enjoys her presence.

”We should probably go.” Nat suggests, shifting in her seat so she can fish a wadded-up bill out of her pocket. She tosses it on the table between them. “Don’t bother paying. You barely had anything, anyway.”

Jackie follows her lead, scrambling to finish her drink before she stands. She hurriedly chokes the last bit down as they step outside, all of it sloshing in her stomach in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. It’s filling, almost like food.

Almost.

The air outside is unreasonably cold, worsening with the winter. She’s too busy shivering to notice Nat taking out a cigarette.

“You want one?” She offers.

Jackie considers it but ultimately decides she better not. She’s got class later, and she doesn’t want to reek. ”No thanks.”

Nat shrugs, easily accepting the response. She flicks her lighter open and is inhaling in the next instant.

It’s all so smooth, nothing like the clumsy fumbling Jackie does over her rare, drunk cigarettes. (“You’ll light your hair on fire.” Shauna would never fail to remind her, reaching over to hold it back from the flame.) Nat kicks some litter off the curb and then sinks down onto it, legs splayed. Jackie joins her, after a moment of tentatively smoothing down her skirt. The edge of the street isn’t really the ideal place to sit, but there’s not many other options. It’s all just sidewalk, cars, and gravel.

”So.” Nat says, blowing a line of smoke out of her mouth. “What’s up with your eating thing?”

Jackie’s heart jumps into her throat.

”I don’t… um…” Her tongue suddenly feels too thick for use. What the hell?

”Yeah, you do.” Nat continues, still inhaling and exhaling, looking directly at her, like they’re chatting about the weather. “You didn’t eat anything in there, you lied about breakfast, and you look half your weight. Jackie, hey, wait, shit — don’t get up.”

A hand lands on her arm, stopping her in place.

She wants to run away. Or scream. What gives you the right to bring that up?

”You don’t have to leave.”

What is it with this fucking team? Was once not enough? Why do they always come back to feast on her like vultures?

Nat’s fingers are on her arm, and it’s pathetic that she can still probably feel the fat there. It’s pathetic that after no breakfast and a goddamn green tea lunch it’s still. not. enough.

Jackie feels a sudden, slivering disgust for her own body that’s borderline visceral. She yanks her arm back, almost cradling it to herself. Nat frowns.

”Look, sorry, man. I wasn’t trying to attack you or whatever. Maybe I shouldn’t have… it’s not a big deal, alright? I had weird, eating shit, too.”

It’s the first thing she says that actually makes Jackie settle. She sits back down, hugging her arms around herself. “You did?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can’t help but scan Nat, wondering if she’s eating more or less than her.

“Yeah.” Nat is nodding encouragingly, seeming to sense that Jackie’s calmed down some. “Of course. I mean, we starved out there for months, so. Having a burger again was freaky. I ordered three and puked all over myself in a McDonalds.”

Jackie attempts to force a smile at that, but really, that sounds nothing like what she’s been doing. She’s probably never eaten three burgers in her life. Her mom would’ve never allowed it. They were the type to ask for a lettuce wrap instead of a bun. And even if she did have some sort of secret, joyous, burger-eating childhood, it ended long before the wilderness. That was just what happened when you grew up. She’d needed to look good for a pool party or fit into a dress and… what else was she supposed to do? Let herself go?

It wasn’t even a problem, then. It was just girl stuff. Every girl she knew wanted to be thin. She was just one of the few who was doing what it took to stay that way.

She could be better than them all, if she tried.

This is the one place — the only place in life where she could be better. Thinner. She could always be thinner.

She just needs to try harder. Fight longer.

Jackie mindlessly taps her finger against her rib through the fabric of her shirt.

”Anyway, that passed.” Nat tacks on.

”Good for you.” Jackie mutters.

”What I mean is, it’s temporary. And if you really want to eat,” she rummages through her pockets again, cigarette still posed in her mouth. “here.”

She presses something small and rolled into her hand. Jackie’s eyes bulge.

“Oh my god. You can’t give me weed in public.” She hisses, clamping her hands around the joint, since the skirt she’s wearing gives her nowhere to hide it.

”Yell a little louder. That’ll help.”

”Nat—“

”We’re five miles from a college campus. No one’s going to book you for a joint, Jackie.” Nat assures, waving her free hand. “Smoke it. It’ll mellow you out, give you the munchies.”

”Here?”

”Probably not.” Nat chuckles, smoke swirling out of her mouth. Jackie subtly shifts away from the smell. “Later. Preferably not in public.”

Jackie rolls it around in her palm.

On one hand, like, fuck Nat for trying to give her the munchies, but also, it’s kind of sweet — coming from her, that is. She’s seen Nat charge a guy for a singular puff, so this must be special.

(And it’s not like she actually has to smoke it.)

“You’re just giving me this for free?” Jackie asks.

”Yeah.” 

“Uh, why?” She presses, voice sliding upwards involuntarily. “I mean, it’s just, last time we really talked, you kinda called me an uptight, prudish little bitch…” She coughs, fixing some hair behind her ear. “Or something along those lines. I don’t know.”

Nat pulls a face.

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?” Jackie looks at her like she’s grown a second head.

Nat looks back at her the same way. “Dude, why would I hold onto something like that?”

 

 

*

 

 

Jackie replays the entire interaction during her walk home.

It wasn’t bad, right? She thinks it was fine. Yeah. She did fine. Probably.

But still, some of it…

It’s temporary, Nat had said.

Temporary, okay, but how long will it last? Jackie needs to keep it going a little while longer. Just until Thanksgiving break. Until she sees Shauna. If she sees Shauna. She hasn’t really asked.

Their phone calls haven’t had much small talk, recently. She gets the sense some kind of dam has eroded between them. She’ll call, always slightly tipsy or getting there, and Shauna will answer, just to tell her that she’s becoming predictable, that all the calling’s sad and… and then a lot of other things. At which point, Jackie will usually (embarrassingly) lose the ability to form words. She can’t be asked to make full sentences, let alone questions.

Although, maybe she should try. It would suck to show up and not have Shauna there. Not to mention, it being awfully anticlimactic.

Should she ask? Would it be weird to ask?

Jackie stuffs Nat’s present into a drawer almost as soon as she steps through the door, happy when Rachel isn’t there to see her do it. From what she’s garnered, her roommate’s basically in love, and good for her. If it keeps her out of the room most days, Jackie has no qualms about it. Hopefully things will turn out well, and Rachel’s boyfriend won’t betray her or leave her for dead in the snow.

She still loves love. Other people’s love, anyway, since her own has proved to be so lackluster. She’s probably doomed, honestly. Even if she met the perfect boy tomorrow, there would still be Shauna. And even if they got married, there would still be Shauna. And even if said perfect boy treated her perfectly well and brought her perfect flowers everyday, there would still be Shauna. What kind of husband would be okay twiddling his thumbs for the rest of his life? Hell, why is Jackie?

Releasing a deep sigh, she slumps against the edge of the desk, picking the phone up and turning it around in her hands. She stares down at it.

She’s not okay with this.

She wants to see Shauna for real, in the flesh. What if her hair’s longer? Or shorter? What if she got a bob? Or a tattoo? And what if it’s ugly?

The idea that Shauna’s changed is intolerable. The idea of her walking around with new hair or new scars or a new wardrobe… it all just freaks Jackie out, for some reason. It’s like hearing the sky’s disappearing. She used to know every time Shauna so much as gained a freckle. Now, she could be a total stranger, aside from her voice. That’s the one thing she knows is the same.

But it’s not enough, evidently. Nothing is these days. She can’t just know one thing about her best friend. It’s unacceptable. Unbearable. What’s she supposed to do with the sky, anyway? Sure, the stars are nice, but she’s never found one she likes to look at more than Shauna.

Jackie keeps staring at the phone.

She dials.

“Shipman? You there?”

“No, a ghost picked up the phone.” Shauna snarks, and the sarcasm makes Jackie smile. At least that hasn’t changed without me. There’s some rustling in the background, as if she’s opening a drawer or moving something mildly heavy. “What’s up? It’s like 3 PM and a school day. I can’t do this that early—“

“Are you coming back for Thanksgiving break?” Jackie blurts before Shauna can get into too much detail.

“Why?” She questions, cagey. “Trying to avoid me?”

“No.” Jackie bounces her knee, chews the edge of her nail. “The opposite.”

“Yeah, I’m coming back.” Shauna admits. Then, just as quickly: “Are you?”

“Yeah.” She answers. Something in her chest unravels and simultaneously tightens up. She’s going to see Shauna.

“Okay, then. It’ll be…” Shauna struggles over the word for a second, and Jackie pictures her hesitant frown. The downturned lips and the little furrow between her brows. “Nice to see each other. Among other things.”

Blood rushes to Jackie’s face. What does that mean?

“Among other things?” She asks.

“Use your imagination, Jax.” Shauna tosses out, sounding both hurried and somehow amused. “And call after dark, alright? I’ve got class.”

She hangs up, leaving Jackie to sit and listen to the dial tone, which threatens to play endlessly.

Jax.

There’s something she hasn’t heard in a while.

 

 

*

 

 

”Really?” Shauna’s voice greets her, about five hours later.

”What? You said after dark.”

”Yeah, it’s sunset.”

”It’s already dark here.” Jackie lies. “Blame time zones.”

”We’re both on Eastern Daylight Time.”

She huffs. Does it matter? ”Okay, well, fine, I’ll call in five minutes, when you’re—“

”No.” Shauna interrupts. You don’t have to be so dramatic, her voice says. “I didn’t say that. I just think it’s funny, you can’t follow simple directions. If I tell you to take your pants off, are you going to put a jacket on, or…?”

“Shut up. I’m doing it.” Jackie mutters, standing to fuss with the string of her shorts. “You’re a sadist, you know.”

”Is it really sadism if you’re asking me to do it?”

“Um, yeah, if you like it, too. That’s like the very definition of the thing.” Jackie replies, wriggling so that the shorts will shimmy down her thighs. She’s on her way to plucking her shirt off when she falters, realizes Shauna has gotten oddly silent. “I — you do like it, don’t you? This? Hearing me, I mean.”

A beat. Jackie shuffles closer to the phone.

“Just take your pants off, Jackie.” Shauna sighs, after a moment. Great. A total non-answer. “And your shirt, too. All of it.”

Disappointed but also very much not, Jackie listens. She flings her shirt elsewhere (possibly at her own lampshade) and kicks away the shorts, which leaves her fully naked. Completely bare. Vagina to chair contact, part two. Jackie sits, gingerly, fighting the insane urge to laugh. They are definitely shaking hands down there. She’d planned in advance and not worn underwear, and now her organized thinking is finally panning out. See what happens when you make good decisions?

”Bend over the desk.”

She complies, leaning down until her front is pressed fully to the wood, the cool surface flush against her. The first touch makes her shiver, goosebumps prickling her skin. Yep, yeah, this certainly feels like go time.

Fumbling, she shifts to sandwich the phone between her shoulder and ear. It’s quiet enough that all she hears is Shauna’s breathing on the other end. Faint inhale and exhale, waiting, expectant. Jackie shifts again. An odd, twitchy sort of feeling is creeping in, as if Shauna is in the room with her, watching.

The thought sets a pulse of nerves in her stomach. Shauna’s eyes on her. Seeing her. With her hips up in the air like this, she’s more exposed than ever.

“Okay.” She murmurs. “Done.”

“Done, she says. Like a cute, little worker bee.” Shauna notes, diving in almost immediately with that seamless, taunting tone. “Are you ever going to drop the perky act?”

”It’s not an act.” Jackie’s breath trips, face already flushed. “Not all of us are liars.”

(Seriously, she won best smile and class go-getter three years in a row. And it would’ve been four, if she weren’t stranded during voting week. Shauna knows this.)

”Yeah? Too bad you weren’t a Girl Scout, maybe then you would’ve actually been helpful. Now, you’re only good for one thing.”

Jackie guesses what that thing is without Shauna having to say it. She’s got this part down pretty well, as of late (a fact that is both slightly comforting and slightly concerning to her), but she hardly thinks about that as her hand finds its place between her thighs. Her fingers slide up carefully, not directly touching anything yet, just ghosting over herself in a gentle flutter that temps her eyes closed. It’s easier to picture Shauna when she can’t see anything else. She can conjure up an imaginary version of Shauna from the backs of her eyelids, big and imposing and — sometimes on top of her, sometimes pulling her into her lap — bending her over the desk, this time, maybe putting one heavy hand on her spine to pin her down. So many possibilities. She dips the tips of her fingers in, making an involuntary, soft, mewling noise. God. Is she ever gonna stop being so wet?

“So, you can listen.” Shauna remarks with false cheer. “I thought that was too difficult for you. But it’s different when you want to get off, isn’t it?”

In her head, Imaginary Shauna is draping over her from behind, muttering the words into her ear, not letting her come up for breath.

But it’s different when you want to get off, isn’t it?

That’s not exactly true. She doesn’t have to be the only one getting anything out of this. That’s not how good friendships work. If Shauna wanted, she could totally… uh. Join? Partake?

“You know, you can…” Jackie sucks in a breath, attempts to steady herself, fails. ”You should...”

”I should what?” Shauna responds automatically, which means she’s still there listening, just being quiet. Good.

”Get off.” Jackie’s close to doing so herself, rocking back and forth. A moment later, the reality of it slaps her in the face. She stills. Oh god. Get off. Those are words she said to Shauna. “Not in like — uh, you know it doesn’t have to be a gay thing, right? Just, if I’m doing it, then it’d only be fair for you to…”

”It doesn’t have to be a gay thing?” Shauna repeats slowly, considering the idea.

Jackie can’t quite place the tone of her voice, but it doesn’t sound explicitly negative, so yay.

“Yeah, I mean — it’s not — if it were anyone else, but it’s us.”

“It’s us?”

Why is Shauna repeating everything she’s saying?

”Yeah. You know how it is with us.”

Even more silence. Not yay.

Jackie’s actually gonna put her clothes on now and—

“Okay.” Comes Shauna’s voice again, finally. It still sounds off.

”Okay?” She questions, settling back down. Her heartbeat is ticking upwards.

”That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Shauna grumbles over the distinct sound of clothes rustling and — Jackie swallows — a belt clinking open. “I’m surprised you even understand the concept of fairness. You didn’t seem to grasp it when you were friends with me.”

Imaginary Shauna doesn’t matter all of a sudden. Not when real Shauna is taking off her clothes somewhere in Rhode Island.

Shauna does something on the other end, clearly still undressing, and it’s the faintest of noises, but it digs at Jackie anyways. She knows that body, from every curve to each end. She’s seen it in countless locker rooms, showers, hotels. There was no privacy between best friends. It’s why she wants (needs) the memory of Shauna to stay the same, so she can roll the correct image around in her head.

It’s easy for her to imagine Shauna unzipping her pants, pulling too roughly, as usual, lifting her hips distractedly, more focused on her own thoughts than anything else.

At least, that’s how Jackie remembers her in the minutes before each practice, back when they were side by side all the time, and she still gave Jackie a rundown of her day. A grumble under the breath (I wouldn’t have been late, but Mr. Fisher’s a cunt), a quick pull of fabric, and her shirt would be on the floor. Uh-huh, Jackie would nod in return, because she always got sidetracked around the time Shauna started taking her bra off. Which wasn’t odd, really. Not at all. She wasn’t leering or anything weird. There was no time to, anyway. She’d had captain duties to attend to.

She just wonders if it’s off right now.

”Shauna, I want—“

“It doesn’t matter what you want. What don’t you get?” Shauna interrupts. “Are you still such an annoying brat,” she exhales harshly, and Jackie pitches forward into her own hand, moving in time with her breath, “that you can’t even go two seconds without mouthing off?”

Jackie presses her lips closed. Waits.

”Huh. Look at that. You actually learned something. Big win for you, captain.”

A shudder runs through her. She’s got her arm bent at a weird angle, snaked between her hips and the desk, but her fingers move just fine. They sink in nice and slow, like a hot knife through butter. Her legs fall open another inch, her mouth forming a tiny O shape. She’s burning up inside, all the heat in the world seeming to drool down her thighs.

”Am I gonna have to keep reminding you or,” another ragged breath, Shauna’s words strained, “can you pay attention?”

”I can pay attention.” Jackie promises immediately. Her own enthusiasm makes her cheeks color.

“You’re good at playing teacher’s pet, at least.” Shauna doesn’t quite laugh. It’s more of a breathy chuckle, but it’s low, and it’s mean, and it’s eating right through Jackie. “Use a third finger, if you’re not already.”

Jackie takes to the task eagerly, rising up onto her toes and keening, almost helplessly, as she slides a third one inside. She normally only uses two, but part of her wants to prove that she can. That she can listen and obey and do everything Shauna tells her to. She can be better this time around.

Wow, okay, that thought is spurring her on a lot more than she thought it would. She grinds down harder, tries to swallow more, taking herself down to the hilt for Shauna. Her third finger stuffs in fully beside the others, the stretch as searing as it is dizzying, ripping a moan out from under her. 

“Ah — fuck.” She gasps.

“Feel good?” Shauna prompts, though her voice says she already knows. 

”Yeah. Yeah. It feels good.” Jackie pants out, the admission small and pitiful, strangled against the desk. Her clit bumps into her palm. “Shit, Shaun. I need—“

“There it is again.” Shauna cuts her off. “You need this, you want that, as if anybody cares. Yap, yap, yap, on and on, like a nagging dog.”

Jackie makes a weak noise, eyes screwed shut.

“Do you know how annoying that is? You made yourself the axis of my world for years, and you don’t even—” Shauna’s sentence putters out into a frustrated sort of groan. ”You just, you always end up with everything you want, don’t you?”

No, not everything. 

“Yeah, you might bat those pretty eyes at every problem you have, but I don’t have to care. Just because you moan and whine,” the words strike in jabs, “and do your best little porn star impression, doesn’t mean you get anything from me. Got it?”

”Yes.” Jackie nods, familiar, mortifying heat licking up her face. Pretty. Best little porn star. Moan and whine. Pretty, pretty, pretty. “Yes, yeah, got it. Whatever you want.”

”God, do you hear yourself?” Shauna asks. Cruel, awed.

Jackie just whimpers and clenches down harder, unable to form much more than: “Shauna.”

”Whatever I want, huh?” She muses. “How’s it feel knowing you’re a toy?”

”It’s, it feels — oh, fuck. Shauna, please.”

Shauna continues bitingly, enjoying herself. ”How’s it feel knowing you’re my toy?”

Something lurches inside Jackie, and she comes, all at once, her body drawing into a tight, shaking coil as her lips form a sob. It gets crushed from out of her throat, long and loud, echoing into the phone.

“Jesus, Jax.” She hears Shauna swear, then moan.

Shauna keeps making this low, wanton noise and, holy shit, Shauna’s coming.

Jackie uses the last bit of her strength to press the phone up hard against her ear as she slumps, exhausted from her orgasm, now more interested in Shauna’s. She only manages to catch the tail end of a choked groan. Shauna winds down in breaths, openly panting.

She could be bent over, just like her, or maybe sitting upright, working a hand between her legs.

The thought makes Jackie shudder. Fuck, no, it makes her throb, one last pulse of wetness dribbling from her. Shit. She lets her head thud against the desk. Her thighs feel impossibly wet.

“So.” Shauna says, after a moment.

Jackie jerks, hopeful, despite the sluggish of her muscles and the ache in her bones. “So?”

”Call tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, okay.”

”Night. That means after dark.”

“Sure, Shipman.” A tired laugh peels free from her. She hesitates, tapping her thumb against the edge of the receiver. “Whatever you want.”

 

 

*

 

 

Shauna is in her dreams that night.

They all are. The whole team.

She dreams they’re back in the mall food court, in that cluster of noise and smells again, laughing and talking over each other. They all ordered lunch, but why—

Why is she the only one eating?

Like an animal in the gutter, hunched over, sweeping mound after mound into her mouth, French fries and chicken nuggets and grease and lard and why can’t she stop? Why can’t she look them in the eye? Why won’t she stop, stop, stop—

The image flips.

Suddenly, she’s on the table herself, looking up at their faces, all of them blank, unsettlingly still.

”We love you, Jackie.”

The chorus sounds as if it’s coming through a muddled filter. None of their mouths move.

Shauna raises what looks to be a knife — or her hand, though it doesn’t truly matter. It digs in just the same, splitting the skin and taking a chunk of muscle from her arm. It doesn’t hurt. Jackie doesn’t bleed. She just peels apart like a piece of melting plastic, layer after layer, all the girls joining in to pull her apart. Misty rips into her abdomen, Tai pries open her face. Away go her organs, her muscles, her heart, and she doesn’t care, because they’re stripping the fat, too. They take her down to skin and bone, and she’s dying, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t at all. She is thin, and she is loved.

They love her.

Jackie jerks awake.

She comes up panting for air, as if fresh out of the water, sheets clinging firmly to her skin. Her bed’s so soaked with sweat, she might as well have gone for a swim.

It’s still dark out. Still as quiet as it was when she fell asleep. Rachel is there somewhere, unseen with the lights off, but snoring loudly enough to make her presence known.

Jackie settles back down.

It’s dark out. She’s in her bed. Rachel is there. The other girls aren’t.

There’s no team, no knife, no Shauna. No food.

She’s in her dorm.

She didn’t eat.

And everything is fine.

Notes:

i wanna say, thank you for all the positive feedback i’ve been getting. i love reading comments, and i’m glad people are sticking with this fic. ik the subject material’s pretty rough.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Back from the dead. Gonna try and make this fic my main priority moving forward so expect quicker updates

CW: vomiting (not self induced)

Everything is still fine. Dandy, even.

A rhythm has been set. During the day, she goes to class, does her homework, helps the girls out with their planning. There’s always something to plan in a sorority, and luckily, four years of wrangling an unruly soccer team has made her a natural at it. It’s her idea that they bedazzle their bikinis before the car wash and her idea that they start putting edible glitter in all of their vodka, so it sparkles bright, shimmery pink. (Although, she’s not totally sure about that second decision once people start puking technicolor.)

During the night, she calls Shauna, always perfectly on time, waiting until the sun has fully sunk outside her window to pick up the phone. It’s become sort of freaky, how quickly seeing the sky change turns her on. Her stomach will tighten at the first hint of a shadow, and whatever class she’s in will suddenly become grievously unimportant, next to the warm pulse between her legs. She finds herself tuning out the tail end of lectures, bouncing her knee, while her underwear steadily dampens, sticky-hot beneath her skirt. It sort of reminds her of that one experiment with the guy and the bell and the dog.

“Pavlov?” Shauna fills in for her.

”Yes. That. Thank you.”

It’s almost weird. Or not weird but new. In high school, they worked by her schedule — going to whatever party she wanted, leaving whenever her curfew was, abandoning the whole thing entirely, if she got her period or simply wanted to study. Which maybe wasn’t fair to Shauna, but the playing field has evened out now. At least, she hopes it has. She thinks she’d do just about anything to make up for those years and finally set them on equal footing.

So. Whatever Shauna wants, anytime she wants.

It’s sort of romantic, right? Them switching places. Jackie thinks it’s kind of cute, if you squint past the sex stuff and the begging to be called a dirty slut thing.

They’re like two sides of the same coin.

Or like peanut butter and jelly.

Or like a snake, eating its own tail. JackieandShauna to ShaunaandJackie, on a loop with no exits.

(Which is exactly why Shauna should have never gone to Brown, aka No Best Friend Land, but fine, whatever, what’s done is done. She can shut up about it — even if she has started casting secret, mildly resentful looks at her roommate. Why can’t everyone just be Shauna?)

The only slight issue in the arrangement is that Jackie’s never a hundred percent sure what it is that Shauna wants. She knows Shauna must like her calling, since they’ve kept it up this long. She knows Shauna likes hearing her come, even if that’s not something she says aloud. The rest is a grey area. Shauna could want to hit her or cuff her or string her up from the rafters, for all she knows — and she’s not really opposed to any of that, more so blind to it. She just… god, she just wants to push Shauna over the edge again. She wants to do it perfectly for her, be perfect for her. She wants Shauna to fly here and grab her and pin her down and finally make use of her. Shauna’s hands might be the only things in the world that could restore her to what she once was.

Gold.

Because she was golden for a minute there, wasn’t she? Sure, maybe her life wasn’t everything she thought it was before. Maybe she should’ve chosen her boyfriend better and inspected her friends a little closer, but still, she was team captain, and she was popular, and she was pretty. That had counted for something.

She hasn’t felt truly pretty all week. It’s the food, and she knows it.

It is always the goddamn food.

If she could sew her own mouth shut, she would. If she could find a way to never eat again, she’d start praising God or the wilderness or whatever else is out there. She doesn’t get what game her body is playing, needling her all day, only to protest when she finally feeds it something. She swears, she’s bloated off of fucking strawberries.

Strawberries!

Jackie rests her free hand over her stomach through the shirt, feeling the bulge of it. The fruit’s settled there like a physical weight, stretching her waistband in a way that’s… grotesque, plainly. Every breath expands it, reminding her a little more of her failing. She should’ve just skipped the stupid snack.

It’s probably better that Shauna isn’t here. Better that they stay on the phone, where Shauna can’t lay eyes on her. For now, at least. She so needs to fix this before Thanksgiving.

“Thank you?” Shauna’s bemused voice echoes in her ears, drawing her back to the land of the living. “Very polite, you must want to ask for something.”

Jesus. How the hell does she always know? Jackie massages the side of her head, wondering if she’s sending out special brainwaves or something. They haven’t even been on the phone for very long. Five minutes, possibly.

Five minutes for Shauna to get her completely.

“Um.” She swallows, steels herself. Time to step up to the plate. ”I was thinking… could we do it the way we did it the other night? When you did it with me?”

“Okay.”

”Okay?”

It’s that easy?

”Yeah, okay. But you have to keep asking nicely.”

There’s a hint Jackie can take.

“Can you touch yourself, too, please?” She whispers into the phone, blushing. “I like hearing it as much as you do.”

Predictably fussy, Shauna responds, “I never said—“

“But you do.” She interrupts, very quickly. It almost feels wrong — disobeying, in this context — but if she gives Shauna anymore room to deflect, they’ll dodge this endlessly. “You do or you wouldn’t have accepted the call. And it’s… it’s okay, you know, that you like listening to me. I want do what you like. Whatever it is that, uh, that is.”

”Articulate.” Shauna replies. Jackie sighs.

”Come on, Shauna. Throw me a bone here. Please?” She tries, letting go of her stomach to skim her fingers over the smooth wood of the desk, fidgeting mindlessly. This feels just as exposing as the sex (that they technically haven’t had). “I’ll do anything.”

Her voice slides up pleadingly. It’s about the same tone she’d used to cajole Shauna into a twenty-seventh rewatch of Beaches.

Shauna exhales, most likely through her nose, by the sounds of things. “You haven’t exactly told me what you like either. Why do I have to go first?”

Jackie assumed the loud, repeated orgasms were indication enough, but — alright, sure. Here’s the playing field. She can level it.

“Okay. You’re right.” She takes a breath, deciding to start easy. “I like when you tell me what to do.”

“I like hearing you moan.”

Yes, fuck, finally. Jackie leans forward, practically crushing the phone in her excitement. Total mental fist pump.

“I like when you call me names.”

”I like it when you beg me.”

”I like it when you make me beg you.”

”It doesn’t take much effort. You already get worked up so easily.” Shauna remarks mildly, not an insult but a fact. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Jackie is ridiculously easy. “I like that, too, for the record.”

“Well… I like that you like it.”

Shauna snorts. “Now you come on. Isn’t it kind of a cop out to piggyback off my answer twice?”

”That’s not what I’m doing. I mean it. Doing what you want works for me. It’s, uh, it’s not like that with anyone else.” She twists the phone cord around her index finger, the admission raw and throbbing in her chest. It’s the truth. With both Jeff and Travis, it’d been stilted and clumsy. With Brian, it’d hurt, and not in the good way. With Shauna, everything was in the good way — pain and pleasure, humiliation and gratitude, desperation and contentment, all burning across her skin in equal measures. Jackie closes her eyes and lets the heat flush through her, murmuring: “Actually, you’re the only person who’s ever made me come.”

There’s a rough breath on the other end, Shauna’s reply coming low and throaty, like the words had punched right through her. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She admits, emboldened by the response, though still shifting nervously. “Guess it’s a best friend thing.”

”I think it’s a you thing, Jackie. Seriously, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

She shivers.

Yet.

”I know.” Jackie groans, eyes still closed, lips pressing to the phone in a half-kiss. “Trust me, I know.”

”Extra desperate tonight, aren’t you?” Shauna releases a little laugh, a short, airy thing, sounding almost disbelieving. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

One hand automatically drifts down to follow the command, but at the last second, Jackie slows.

Hesitates.

Cheeks aflame, she shyly replies: “Yes, ma’am.”

She might be pushing it just a smidge, but they already agreed this isn’t a gay thing, so it’s fine. Probably, she tells herself, undoing the first button. All they’re doing here is restoring their friendship.

”Jackie?” Shauna asks quietly.

It makes her pause again, hands stilling, in case of more direction.

”Hmm?”

”I liked that.”

Jackie feels a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she continues shrugging the shirt off, shimmying out and discarding it at her feet. She’s not wearing a single thing underneath. No need to with the way her breasts sit, high on her chest. No need, when she knows what they’re about to be doing.

“Not wearing a bra.” She confesses before Shauna can ask, the words leaving her mouth in a rush, her heart hammering. There’s no one there to see her, but the nakedness feels exposing either way.

“Of course not.” Shauna says. “I bet you sat around all day just waiting to get off.”

”That’s not—“

”Don’t interrupt. I’ll let you know when you can talk.” Shauna puts on that clear, authoritative tone that makes her body go pliant and molten. “Got it?”

Jackie sinks into it like it’s bath water, letting the arousal sweep through and take her under, heat seeping down to her toes. ”Yeah.”

”What else are you wearing?”

”Just a skirt. No underwear.”

”Shocker.” Shauna remarks. In response, Jackie squirms, pressing her thighs together, only to find them already slick. God.

Her hand twitches downward. “Can I — I need—“

”Go ahead and touch yourself.” Shauna instructs. “Don’t be gentle. I wouldn’t be.”

”Are you gonna…?” Jackie asks. Pants out, really, the anticipation making her breath come heavy.

”Mmh.” Shauna hums affirmatively. Behind her, there’s the faint sound of fabric rustling, pants — or maybe one of her ratty band tees — being stripped off. “We agreed.”

That’s all the incentive Jackie needs to get started, one hand slipping low to hike up her skirt without preamble, while the other slides to pluck one nipple stiff. It’s tricky work, keeping the phone balanced by her ear, but she manages, familiar with it. She’s rough with herself, the way Shauna told her to be, beginning to alternate between breasts, rubbing and pinching until they sting, puffing up, just like those magazines.

Experimentally, Jackie twists the nipple held between her fingers and whimpers, hips bucking forward.

“Keep going. Don’t stop.” Shauna urges, and she doesn’t.

They don’t.

Shauna keeps on talking, calling her a slut, calling her a toy, calling her pathetic, somehow closer and closer with each word, her voice right there in the room, a growing physical presence — strained, near gravelly. Jackie can tell she’s touching herself, too, and it gets her off more than anything else, knowing they could come together, even in unison. She works her hand hard and fast between her splayed legs, unrelenting, meeting Shauna’s hushed moans with her own hiccuping breaths. Her legs quiver as she massages at her lips, imagining it’s Shauna’s fingers slipping through all that wetness, curling up into it, targeting that spongy spot inside of her body that causes a broken sob to leave her mouth. 

“God, Jax, you’re such a needy thing. I could just lay you down and slide right into you. Pull that hair you’re so fond of, make you come so hard you’d cry.”

”Shauna.” She whines openly, working her hips in shaky circles, her swollen clit jammed right against the heel of her palm.

”What did I say about speaking?” Shauna grits, harsh, maybe just as close as she is.

”Sorry. I just — I wanna come.”

”And that’s my problem?”

”I wanna come for you.” She corrects, stifling the silent please, baby in her throat. (Because where the hell is that one coming from?)

“If you can’t control yourself…” Shauna pauses, prolongs the second, and it’s torture, fuck, it’s cruel, it’s so, so mean. “Go on.” 

It rips straight through her, every limb of Jackie’s shuddering, her body convulsing in a rush of pure adrenaline. She might even leave her own skin, everything inside of her pushed out except bliss. Whatever sound she makes has Shauna coming right along with her, spewing out a long string of swears.

“Fuck.” Shauna exhales heavily, while Jackie blinks spots out of her eyes, head swimming. She doesn’t bother to lift it from its slumped position, sagged against the desk. Her orgasms always hit her like a freight train on an empty stomach.

Almost empty, that is.

Why did you eat the fucking strawberries, when you could’ve held out, could’ve been per—

”Agreed.” She murmurs, just to block out the voice, gingerly pulling her fingers away from her slit. They glisten under the dim light, faintly accusing. She’s quick to wipe the evidence away on a tissue.

On the other end, Shauna laughs. “So, I take it you liked that?” 

”Shush.” Jackie says, though the noise puts a stirring in her chest. It’s a real, genuine, familiar laugh, and she’s missed it more than anything. Unwilling to let go, she scrambles for a follow-up question. ”What have you been doing all day? How’s Brown?”

As good a conversation starter as any.

“Homework. And it’s a weekday, it’s quiet. How’s Rutgers?” Shauna returns unexpectedly. 

“Awesome.” Jackie lies without thinking. The truth, that she’s starving alone in a strange, new place with strange, new people, is too depressing to admit aloud. “It’s great, and the girls are really nice. We’re going to like three parties this week.”

“The girls?”

“Sorority sisters. Taylor, Brittany, Stephanie.” She rattles them off all of them seeming interchangeable, suddenly, one long not-Shauna stream.

”Oh. Cool.”

“Woman of many words.” She teases fondly. “Remind me again. Aren’t you an English major?”

”Shut up.” Shauna grumbles, but Jackie thinks she might hear a smile there. It’s warm and slightly jarring, after the hardass voice she’d been putting on. “Does this mean you’ll be busy?”

The implication behind the question is clear.

“No. I’ll still call.” She assures. Apparently, Shauna’s right, and she is a complete slut because she totally scheduled her nights around phone sex.

”Okay, well… good.”

”Good?” Good like you miss me? Good like you’re looking forward to it? Good like I’m a good g—

”Good.” Shauna repeats without explanation. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

She hangs up. Simple, clean, possibly their most polite goodbye to date. Jackie will take it.

Three cheers for progress.

 

*

 

“Shit.”

”What’s wrong?” Shauna asks.

“Nothing.” Jackie replies, bending to fetch her fallen lipstick. “I’m just getting ready. Dropped something.”

It’s late into the night already, the world outside dark and noisy with passing students, each on their way to this or that party. One of which Jackie would be (and probably should be) attending right now, if she weren’t purposefully dragging her feet. With Shauna semi-there, the cloying scent of hair spray streaming through the room, and an old Cranberries album playing on repeat, she’s currently residing in a bubble of nostalgia too pleasant to leave. She’s got all her makeup and clothes stacked precariously on the desk, so she can stay by the phone while she dresses, puttering around and sorting through it all one-handed. It’s a bit of a challenge, while shaky-legged and jittery from three orgasms, but hey, she’s not exactly going to complain about the trade off. 

“I can hang up, if you want.” Shauna offers, seemingly as a kindness, though it’s the absolute last thing Jackie wants. 

”No.” She says, too fast, cringing a little. “Stay on. I’m bored.”

”Okay.”

Jackie smiles secretly to herself. Sometimes getting a one word answer isn’t so bad.

It’s actually tradition, having Shauna sit with her while she gets ready. She’s missed it, even if this is a thin substitute for the real thing. Usually, Shauna would be on her bed, folded up neatly, legs crossed, head bowed over Jackie’s magazine collection.

We could always just not go, she’d suggest, night after night without fail, to which Jackie would always roll her eyes.

Nice try, Shipman. Now come here, let me get your makeup right.

Shauna really was hopeless with concealer. And blush and lipstick and kind of mascara, too, but that was only because she didn’t need any of it. She could pull off the natural look no problem, with those soft lips and all-consuming brown eyes. Hell, even that broody furrow between her brows was pretty.

Jackie turns to hold a dress up to the light. “What do you think I should wear?”

“I don’t know. A skirt or something.”

”Super helpful, Shipman.”

”Well, you look good in everything, so.” Shauna mutters, the grumbled comment landing sweet inside Jackie’s stomach.

”Say that again?” She requests.

Shauna’s quiet for a moment, and there’s a tiny wisp of background noise, like a page turning, before she offhandedly replies, “you know, people are usually less needy after an orgasm.”

That one also hits Jackie in the stomach.

”I know.” She answers, flushing frustratingly easily. Is there supposed to be some magical number of orgasms that will keep her from almost purring at the sound of Shauna’s voice? Some kind of hidden, desperation quota? Bingo, there goes the legs, closed?

“Did you bring that flowery dress to school with you? The one we got at the mall on Black Friday?” Shauna questions, prompting Jackie to flit through the stack for it. They’d spent that whole Friday chasing sales like bloodhounds, squealing when they stumbled upon something perfect. She gives a happy hum of affirmation once she finds it, shoved between her other clothes. “Wear that.”

Jackie complies, swapping out the pajamas she’s wearing for the dress that she steps into, pulling it up until the slinky straps are properly set around her shoulders. A pinch of anxiety fills her, feeling the slight (unsatisfactory) jut of bone, but she pushes past it, just glad to not be in front of a mirror.

“Jewelry?” She prompts next, skimming her fingers over her collection, all of it thin, dangly gold. Mostly pretty pieces her mom bought her.

“The heart necklace. It’s your signature.”

Fixing it around her neck, she silently agrees. It’s the type of cute thing a girl can throw on anytime, anywhere. Even in a flaming trash can, she thinks, remembering slipping it to a white-knuckled Shauna, moments before disaster. Which kind of puts its role as a good luck charm into question, but whatever, Jackie’s keeping it.

There are certain things you just don’t give up. Jewelry, trophies (when they’re first place, not that slacker shit), good heels, best friends.

The proofs in the pudding, really.

Anyone else cheats and disappears from your life. Your best friend does that — and worse — and you end up calling her every night. Calling, chatting, letting her tell you what to do, how to dress.

Shauna had snapped at her about this very thing, out in the wilderness, practically shitting a brick, as if their whole friendship was a dictatorship.

A: Jackie still thinks it was rude (and mildly soul crushing).

B: She still doesn’t quite get it.

She doesn’t mind Shauna helping her pick an outfit. Who else would know all her angles? She definitely doesn’t mind Shauna bossing her around. Who else would really be able to? She wouldn’t even mind if Shauna helped her pick a boyfriend. Although, given their taste in men, that might just be asking for it.

”What?” Shauna says out of the blue.

”What?”

”You’re doing that little snort thing you do when you think something is funny.”

”I don’t snort.” Jackie protests automatically, lifting a hand up over her nose.

Shauna does the little nose-exhale thing she does when she thinks something is funny. ”If you say so.”

Alright, moving on. How best to bring up the dreaded ex boyfriend/hookup without completely imploding this conversation? 

After a second of consideration, she decides to carefully admit, ”I was thinking about Jeff.”

“Okay.” Shauna drags the word out, probably wondering why she’s edging them near the viper pit. To be honest, Jackie’s kind of wondering that herself. “And thinking about him… inspires joy?”

The dry quip makes Jackie roll her eyes, leaning her hip on the still-cramped desk. “No, I was thinking we’re both screwed, if that’s the track record we’re setting.”

”You’re right. Jeff and Flex. You can really pick ‘em.”

”Ouch.” Jackie remarks, but she can tell Shauna’s only kidding. She keeps her voice equally playful. “Sounds like you just need to catch up. Have a few bad hookups of your own.”

”Maybe.”

Jackie’s fingers begin to tap against the phone.

”Have you been?” She presses, less playful, despite her efforts. “Hooking up with anybody?”

Shauna seems to read her tone and bristle slightly at it. “Why? Am I not allowed?”

Allowed is a strong word. More than that, it’s a could-quickly-lead-to-an-argument word, and Jackie thinks they’ve had quite enough of those.

”No.” She mutters, backing down. “Just curious.”

She’s intent on leaving it there, but then Shauna says something earth-shattering. ”What if I was?”

What if I was? What if I was? What if Jackie stuck a shard of glass through her own eye? What if she jumped off a cliff? What about that?

The image of some guy on top of Shauna worms in and twists her stomach, worse than anything she could’ve ate. Him pressing his slobbery mouth to her full lips, pawing too hard at her hips. She can only imagine the amount of dorks at Brown trying to get with Shauna, and she doesn’t want to imagine the ones who already have. Thinking about it for more than a second nearly makes her gag.

”That’d be fine.” Jackie forces out, swallowing bile. “Go wild, Shipman. Obviously I am, too.”

”Even though they can’t make you come?” Shauna interrupts, before she can really start rambling. She stops short, an involuntary noise leaving her throat. Her lips open and close soundlessly — in shock or arousal, she doesn’t know. But the silence seems answer enough for Shauna, who continues probing conversationally. “So, about the party. Are you just wearing the dress there?”

“I’m wearing underwear, if that’s what you’re asking.” Jackie returns, recovering. As much as possible, anyway. “I’m not just out galavanting.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

”Be nice or I’ll hang up.” She warns.

”I thought you were bored.”

Since when did Shauna get this annoying? Seriously, something’s shifted. It’s like a pressure valve opened somewhere, and Shauna’s finally letting her tongue loose, after all these years. Jackie isn’t sure whether to complain or start rejoicing. Hallelujah, no more lies.

“I was, but I also need to go soon. For real.” She reminds Shauna (and herself, honestly), taking a quick glance outside. It’s just a frat party, so she can’t be late in any way that really counts, but people are still expecting her.

”Do you want me to—“

“No, wait.” Stop offering to leave. Jackie presses her lips together, huffing through her nose. “I wanted to ask you something else.”

Somewhere across state lines, she’s sure Shauna is raising two unimpressed eyebrows. “I don’t get it. Is the silence the question?”

“Help pick my underwear out for me?” Comes out of her mouth in one long breath, somehow harder to ask for than anything else. There’s no hand down her pants to distract her, no imminent orgasm to use as an excuse. She starts picking nervously at the stack, plucking fabric, just for something to do with her hands. “I’ve got pink, purple, green… this one Victoria’s Secret pair…” 

“The one with the bow?” Shauna interjects, so lowly Jackie can’t even picture her, can’t even pin an expression to that blown-out tone.

“Yeah.” She confirms, taking it out and stroking over exactly what Shauna’s describing, the little bow no bigger than her nail. “I’m surprised you remember it.”

”We changed next to each other for years, Jackie. I even remember you complaining that you’d never get out of a training bra.”

“Boo. Wipe that memory from your mind, Shipman.”

”Can’t. It was only like a year ago.”

”You’re a dick.” Jackie sing-songs, a grin on her lips, most of the tension forgotten as she begins sticking her left leg through.

”Just put the underwear on.” Shauna says back, in a similar voice, a cross between deep want and gentle ribbing.

As per usual, Jackie does as she’s told, dragging it upwards, the delicate lace soft underneath her touch. It’s pastel blue, though that doesn’t matter much once it’s disappeared beneath her dress. She smooths a hand over her front, ensuring the lines aren’t visible, so no one knows it’s there, except for her and Shauna. The waistband clings snugly to her, a dirty little secret for them both.

She can’t help but wonder if Shauna liked what she saw, all those times, drifting in and out of the locker room together. If Shauna would see her now, see how she looks in this, want to make good on her word and—

And if Jackie doesn’t leave now, she’ll never get out of this room.

“I think I’ve actually got to go.” She says mournfully. “We can reminisce about puberty later.”

”Looking forward to it.” Shauna replies, and what’s wonderful is that Jackie doesn’t think she’s being entirely sarcastic.

Jackie toys with the cord. ”Thanks for helping me pick.”

”Wasn’t very hard. You look good in everything.”

The line cuts dead, and for a moment all she can do is sit in the absence of sound, more pleased than she’s been in a while.

She practically has to pinch herself from the daze, heading out after adding a pair of tennis shoes and sheer tights to the ensemble. It’s too far of a walk for anything heeled and too chilly to leave her legs bare, the night air annoyingly brisk around her. She hugs herself as she cuts across the quad, stubborn goosebumps rising. Lately, any cold she gets shoots skin deep, no matter the amount of layers. 

The first thing she does when she arrives is press into the tight trap of heat provided on the dance floor, where droves of people are already bumping and grinding. It’s in full swing, music shaking the walls, crowds laughing, shouting, and singing at top volume. Jackie spots a few of the girls she knows near the stairs, lounging against the railing.

“Jackie!” They squeal as soon as they see her. “You bitch, we almost thought you weren’t coming.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t need to work to press on a grin. Someone lovely puts a cup in her hand, and the patented charm comes right out to play. “Ever heard of being fashionably late?”

 

*

 

The party only picks up from there. Apparently, she missed the Jell-O shots, but she doesn’t miss the ambitious keg stands or the indoor chain smoking or the guy attempting to serenade them all with their school song. He hops up on an alcohol-sticky coffee table, cup raised, swaying drunkenly. “MARCH, MEN OF RUTGERS, DOWN THE FIELD TODAY! MARCH TO ANOTHER SCORE, FORWARD TO THE FRAY!”

Jackie has to reach carefully around his feet to grab her fifth drink, avoiding the tipsy waltz he’s doing. He sort of reminds her of Randy, as most idiots do. Not that she has anyone to say this to, since no one here knows who Randy is. She pockets the thought, making a mental note to tell Shauna later on. If she even remembers, that is.

She takes a step, and the room jostles like a snow globe that’s just been shook, all the people in front of her seeming to slosh back and forth hazardously.

“R-U RAH RAH!” The crowd chants, unaware that they’re currently liquid people.

Ha, liquid people.

Jackie giggles into her cup.

A shaggy, blonde head swims through her vision, someone vaguely familiar pushing past all the bodies with ease. They’ve got a dark jacket on, worn-in, black leather stretched across hunched shoulders. Nat, she thinks. Possibly? Maybe? She can’t fully tell, and when she stumbles forward to check, someone grabs her arm, slinging her into a nearby hallway.

”Oop — oh my god, Taylor, hey!”

“Hi! I was looking for you!” Taylor declares.

“Congrats, you found me.” Jackie attempts to clap, only succeeding in slapping her hand against her cup lightly.

”Yay!” She throws her arms around her.

They stay there for who knows how long, the dance they’re doing no more than casual swaying, both of them draped over each other loosely. The music and all the faraway voices mingle. Deee-Lite pounds in the background. The way the floor’s moving reminds Jackie of a cruise she and Shauna went on in the fourth grade, which began with Shauna upchucking over the deck. She strokes Taylor’s back just the same way she did Shauna’s that day, feeling the blunt line of her spine, and quietly wondering how she got so damn skinny.

Taylor’s not liquid. She’s solid and warm and has so many bones and lots of silky blonde hair. And Jackie may or may not be petting her. Okay, definitely petting her, five fingers running along her perfume-scented collar. She’s just so soft. Jeff was never this soft.

“Jeff never moisturized.” Jackie mumbles.

Taylor blinks at her. ”What?”

”Nothing. You’re really pretty.” She says, instead of explaining, the compliment just falling out, a swallow she can’t quite seem to hold in her mouth. Taylor brightens immediately, hands coming up to bracket Jackie’s face.

“Holy shit, Jackie. You’re really pretty.” She gushes drunkenly, pinching both her cheeks. “I love that your last name is my first name!”

”I love that your first name is my last name!”

Taylor grins at her, breathless and flushed under the strobe lights, and just like that, they’re kissing, no space between them at all, nothing but glossy lips on glossy lips. It should be weird, probably, but really it’s the most natural thing in the world to give in, tipping her head back and letting her mouth open slightly. She tastes like berries and vodka and mint and it’s—

“Really fucking hot.” Someone says. It’s the school song guy, down from his performance, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. “Jesus.”

Taylor laughs, sliding out of Jackie’s hold to slip into his seamlessly. They’re sucking face in two seconds flat.

Alright, then. Horny drunks. Got it. She’s not sure they even know each other.

“You want to join us?” He turns to grin lazily at her, and Jackie balks. No one in Wiskayok would even think to ask her that.

”Uh. No, thanks.” She backs hurriedly away, eaten by the crowd again.

Three steps, and she’s swarmed, hundreds surrounding her, sardined and gyrating. Jackie fights through weakly. She feels thrown overboard, as if she’s being tossed side to side by the sea. The lights, the excitement, the glamour — the lip gloss, the saliva, the look of his wet, sleazy mouth. It’s all too much suddenly.

She slinks up the stairs, sure she’ll be sick, pushing bodies apart to shut herself in the nearest bathroom, where she trips face-first towards the sink. Her forehead mashes against the mirror, the glass nice and chilly. She considers slamming her head into it, Lottie Matthews style, but refrains, because oh, yeah, she’s not a crazy bitch. At least she has that much going for her.

Fuck.

Why did she kiss her? And why didn’t she kiss him?

Why can’t she just like a boy? Put her lips to his and have it be easy, be nothing. Two seconds flat.

It’s becoming sort of a problem, isn’t it? She hadn’t liked Jeff, she hadn’t liked Travis, and she couldn’t give two shits about Brian. She’s beginning to think something is wrong.

The only person she really likes is Shauna. And Taylor. Sort of. She doesn’t really know Taylor, but she likes her mouth and whatever brand of perfume she’s using.

“God.” Jackie twists the sink on, scrubbing wet hands down her face. Her brain barely computes the fact that her makeup’s going to wind up as fucked as her stomach.

She just — she wants. She wants the girls to be her teammates, her teammates to be her real friends, her best friend to be here. She wants so badly it’s pathetic, like a child tugging at its mother’s pant leg, like a toddler that can’t accept the no. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks red-rimmed, hair all screwy in the mirror, and she doesn’t look like an adult. She doesn’t even look like a person, more like a doll some snot-nosed monster rubbed in the dirt.

If Jackie could, she’d pick at herself until she was no more than a pile of porcelain flakes, leave her body and emerge in another, entirely new.

She’d be somebody better.

Somebody thin.

Somebody not a lesbian.

No, no, no, not a good word to think while drunk. Jackie pitches down and vomits straight into the drain, her throat burning hot and raw with the bile that springs out of her.

”Hey, Jackie, are you in here?” The door nudges open, someone unknown coming in. “I thought I saw… oh, shit.”

A hand clasps her arm, guiding her gently away from the sink and to the toilet. With her spotted vision, Jackie can’t place who it is, but they’re right behind her, gathering her hair into a sloppy ponytail just before her knees collide with the floor. She groans into the bowl, only very vaguely aware of the spit strings dripping from her mouth, her gut clenching and screaming bloody murder.

Jackie inhales, gags, exhales.

“Look, don’t hate me for this.” Nat says, just before giving her one hard thwack on the back, the glitter-vodka cocktail surging up on impact.

“Thanks, Ship… Shipman.” She moans miserably.

”I’m not — whatever, you’re welcome.” Nat pats her shoulders, getting Jackie to throw up all over again.

Bright, sparkly technicolor.

She might need to reevaluate her life choices.

Chapter 7: Shauna Interlude

Notes:

bit of a short chapter just exploring Shauna’s headspace

Somewhere in New Jersey, Jackie is currently prepping to roam around in the underwear Shauna picked out for her.

“I think I’ve actually got to go.” She admits, audibly fussing with something in the background. Her dress? Her makeup? Her lace— “We can reminisce about puberty later.”

Floundering, because somewhere in New Jersey, Jackie is currently prepping to roam around in the underwear Shauna picked out for her, Shauna pipes, “looking forward to it,” and almost entirely forgets to be sarcastic.

If Jackie catches the shift in tone, she doesn’t say. Just coyly whispers back: ”Thanks for helping me pick.”

It’s a bit like being thanked for winning the lottery.

Shauna can see it all in her head. The color, the shade, the little bow and the way it would sit just beneath Jackie’s navel invitingly, like wrapping on a present. She inhales, force-pulling air into her lungs. The breath there feels trapped so tight, she’s unsure it’ll even come out. It takes actual effort to exhale.

”Wasn’t very hard.” Shauna replies, strained. The compliment’s already parked in her mouth, begging to be voiced again, and this time, her tongue’s just loose enough to let it. “You look good in everything.”

She hangs up quick, the phone clattering underneath the unnecessary force. Scrubs the same hand down her face right after, cursing herself.

There genuinely has to be something wrong with her, at this point. The small talk? The outfit help? The flirting? Telling Jackie she looks good in everything — twice — all because she, what, said please? Learned to bat her eyelashes from afar? Jesus. Shauna should write the book on long-term mortification.

She’s starting to feel insane. It’s as if she’s one of those Victorian era men, starving over a glimpse of bare leg. Except, there’s been a depressing lack of leg glimpsed in this scenario (bare or otherwise), so right now, she actually ranks below the guys jerking it to an ankle. Shauna came half an hour ago, purely because of a voice… a sweet, needy voice that’s somehow perfect for her every time.

And she means every time. Now that it’s part of their arrangement, she gets off everyday, right alongside Jackie. So far, things are good. Ridiculously so.

It’s distressing.

Masturbating with Jackie can go right on the list of things that definitely weren’t part of the plan. Keep control, she told herself, that first time they did it together, don’t let her see too much of you. Stupid. What control did anyone have with their vagina out?

Even when she’s the one calling the shots, she still feels the vulnerability, taking her clothes off, hearing her own labored breaths. There’s no way to want Jackie openly, not in a way that’s safe. Not without giving up some modicum of power.

Shauna likes her power. Loves it, even. It tastes so nice, after years of deprivation. She loves telling Jackie what to do and having her do it, no questions asked. She loves conversing with all her soft spots hidden behind state lines and a telephone. She loves being Shauna Shipman, elusive Ivy League student, and not Shauna Shipman, lapdog.

The elusive student wants for nothing. She goes to class and to museums and occasionally parties, where she talks to droves of smart, fun, interesting people, who all, of course, adore her, and when she does find the time to entertain Jackie, she doesn’t think about her afterwards or obsess or spend hours feeling like she’s going to tear out her own hair. 

Nope.

Because that Shauna is perfect. This one, decidedly, is not.

Silly as it may be, Shauna sometimes fantasizes about returning home wearing someone else’s skin. The elusive student, the woman on the phone. Hard, aloof, impenetrable. Strolling in and strolling out with a click of the receiver.

She supposes that daydream’s been crushed now, though maybe it’s a fair trade up. Truthfully? After a stressful day of classes and lugging her body around campus, there’s nothing better than getting that call, that release. Pure, unfiltered gold. Dopamine and oxytocin may make quite the cocktail mix, but that can’t be all it is.

If it were just chemical, then she could be less panicked. Instead, she ends each call with both hands trembling. Whenever they do it, there’s an imprint, like Jackie was actually there in the room. Goosebumps on her arms and legs, pin-prickles in her fingertips, a wild heat inside her.

Shauna knows enough to know it’s not normal. She’s had sex with women in person before. Heard them gasp, moan, cry, felt them shatter against her tongue. Doesn’t matter. No one’s Jackie.

What they’re doing seems inimitable. So much so that she went ahead and let her short string of one night stands run dry, neglecting to give the Harold another visit. She figured, what’s the point? None of the women she’s met will be permanent, and apparently, she can have better sex over the phone.

(Plus secretly, she’d felt guilty, lounging in those cheap, sweat-soaked, motel sheets afterwards — as if she was cheating. The walls had reeked of sex and shame, and it’d made the whole thing seem that much more pointless. When she slept with Jeff, at least sometimes Jackie’s perfume lingered.)

So, there.

Jackie Taylor has officially ruined her for other women.

It was only a matter of time, honestly.

What is it about Jackie that always, always affects her? Even now, sitting fucked-out and sated, she wants more. She wants to get on the phone again, talk a little longer. Not just about sex, but about life, how this one girl in her class looked a bit like Laura Lee or how she’d scored a grating eighty-nine on a quiz yesterday. Jackie’s still her favorite person to bitch to. Probably a symptom of childhood. Back then, whenever one of them scraped a knee, it was the other’s turn to fetch the first aid. 

It’s a miracle she doesn’t have the ability to call Jackie back or else she’d probably be giving her another ring just to unload.

The latest entry in her diary reads:

Dear Jackie,

Everyone here reminds me of someone. I swear I saw a girl yesterday with Laura Lee’s exact hairstyle, and one of my professors dresses like Van. He’s not funny at all though. More quiet and macabre and honestly, really fucking boring. You should hear his lecture. He couldn’t keep a coke addict awake. The only benefit’s the hour where I’m not required to speak. He seems to like you if you can at least sit quietly. You’d think people in their twenties would figure that out, but every class, there’s always someone that starts gabbing to their friend and pisses him off…

Then continues on for five more pages, each one more pathetic than the next. How sad is it for a person to try to escape their hometown and wind up seeing it everywhere? More sad than running from someone and missing them anyway?

Shit, that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

She misses Jackie.

Shauna hates herself a little bit for it, but there it is. Or there it has been, worming beneath the skin all along.

She wasn’t supposed to. 

(Wasn’t supposed to miss her, wasn’t supposed to pick up the phone, wasn’t supposed to—)
 
She still remembers the day she got her acceptance letter from Brown. That strange mixture of guilt and accomplishment. She’d been so quietly proud, going down the stairs, presenting that envelope to her mom. A single parent, living off of a nurse’s salary in a tiny, crap town, producing an Ivy League student? Practically unheard of. She’d basically broken all of Shauna’s bones with a congratulatory hug.

”You did it, Shauna!” She cried, nearly lifting Shauna off the ground. With her arms wrapped around her that tight, it had sounded more like we did it.

Shauna had grumbled about being swaddled like a little kid, but secretly, she hadn’t really minded. Just like how she didn’t mind when her mom proceeded to take a picture of said acceptance letter and ship it off, as a fuck you to her father. She’s no stranger to her parents’ pissing contest. (That’s just how love is sometimes. It turns you vindictive.)

It’d been plainly annoying to go to school, minutes later, and have Jackie prattle on, like New Jersey was the only place for her, as if there was nowhere else she could hack it. Of course they’d stay in the same room, of course they’d take the same classes, of course Shauna would end up in the same dull, state-school cycle Wiskayok High pushed on everyone. At the time, the idea seemed awful — becoming so permanently ordinary — but now the image in her head has changed.

Sitting there in the dark, where no one can see her, Shauna lets herself picture it. Rutgers with Jackie.

They’d treat it like a field trip, pile all their crap onto the bed farthest from the window — lipstick tubes, spare socks, CDs, magazines, a hairdryer — and share the other one. Sleep draped over each other underneath the guise of needing warmth, cuddle while the night’s breeze blows above them, split lazy, drunk cigarettes beneath its moonlight. Jackie would flood their bed with cute, decorative pillows. Shauna would buy tiny shelves to press against the walls. 

Maybe they’d kiss. Maybe they’d do more than that.

Maybe, instead of this whole song and dance, they would have simply fallen into each other. It’d be Spin the Bottle or just for practice or something equally ridiculous, but she’d finally get to touch Jackie, finally get to take her apart. Shauna could be inside of her right now. Or on top of her. Or pressing her thighs around that pretty face. Jackie’s so careful about maintaining her looks, Shauna’s always longed to mess them up a little, see what she’d look like on her knees, cheeks mascara-stained, mouth shiny with a mixture of leftover gloss and Shauna’s slick. The whole idea makes her cunt pulse.

Maybe the only place for them is with each other.

No, Shauna thinks stubbornly. She was with Jackie for most of her life, and look how she turned out. Invisible, disregarded, and bitter.

Although, Jackie’s been listening to her a lot more lately, and they’ve started talking more than they argue…

No, stop it.

Her best friend is a walking rabbit hole. She just needs to find some way to crawl out.

If the universe loved her, it would let her say goodbye on Thanksgiving Break. If they had sex, and it sucked in person, then Shauna would be able to shake off that warm, pesky… gooey feeling Jackie tends to give her.

Except, the universe hates her, so she’s probably doomed to have phenomenal, marathon sex.

Just thinking about Thanksgiving Break gets her lightheaded. The holiday’s slow approach has been turning her increasingly insane, her brain filling with ludicrous images of them having furious sex while the pecan pie bakes, Shauna holding Jackie down and taking her right next to the gravy. She’s almost ninety-nine percent sure that’s not how it’s going to play out, but she entertains it anyways. The two of them, going at it in the middle of the Taylor’s dressed-up dining room, kissing and fucking brazenly, without a single care in the world.

If the phone calls were anything to go by, it wouldn’t take much time for things to escalate. Just feeling Jackie writhe against her would be enough. She’d readily undress her — probably with her hands, but in this dream reality, she gets to pick the chef’s knife off the table and drags its glinting edge along the hem of whatever modest dress Jackie’d choose for the occasion, ripping the seams. Jackie’s always had the greatest body, soft and tan everywhere, with beautiful, slim curves. It makes her mouth water to picture it on display, especially standing there in nothing but torn-open fabric. Shauna wasn’t lying earlier, when she said she’d seen Jackie change. Really, she’s been stealing guilty glances for about six years straight, enough time that it’s easy to imagine what bending her over would look like.

Jackie’s lithe figure, stripped bare. The shyness she’d play at as Shauna guided her into position, facedown with her ass in the air, hips held up in offering. Her thighs being forced apart to show off the growing dark spot on her pastel blue panties. The same ones she’d gone out in tonight, simply because Shauna told her to.

Shauna thinks about tugging them to the side, getting the fabric bunched up near her wrist as she works into Jackie, pressing in deep. All the dishes on the table clinking, ceramic plates bumping in time with each thrust, the slide of skin becoming frantic. Her free hand reaching forward and yanking a fistful of that honey brown hair back to catch a glimpse of Jackie’s reddening face, watching her pouty lips tip open, hearing the harder… baby, please...

What else would Jackie do, if Shauna told her to?

Okay, the knife might be out of the question, but what about other things? Rope? Gags? Blindfolds? Collars? Toys? Wax? Choking? Spanking?

Shauna’s not even sure she wants the full list, she’s just heard a lot from the lesbian bar she’s dived into.

(Genuinely, where does one purchase a spreader bar? And how does one manage to sneak it into their childhood home without traumatizing their mother?)

Somehow, Shauna doesn’t see Jackie agreeing to the hot wax, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’s surprised her. Jackie could want anything, really. Shauna doesn’t imagine she’s explored her own kinks much. She can’t have examined anything too closely, if she can’t even admit that what they’re doing is explicitly gay.

You know it doesn’t have to be a gay thing, right? You know how it is with us. Jackie had said, like a crazy person.

And Shauna had gone okay, like an equally crazy person, who also lacked self-respect.

Sometimes, Shauna convinces herself that she was born to trail after Jackie. Like when they put her together in oblivion or the womb or wherever, they took all her blood and bones and skin and arranged them specifically for one girl. She wonders if there’s a knot somewhere that she’s missing, some invisible leash tied to her body with Jackie at the other end. That would explain the odd ache in her chest, and the compulsive, longing feeling that arises at the sound of her voice.

You know it doesn’t have to be a gay thing, right? You know how it is with us.

You know, you know, you know…

No.

Shauna doesn’t know anything, apparently. She left home with a plan that’s flailing. There are so many things she still wants (needs) to say to Jackie. I miss you, yes, but also:

I only kissed him cause he tasted like you.

And: I’ve given your name to every girl I’ve slept with.

And: I think if someone did an autopsy, they’d find you right there in me.

But it’s not that simple.

Even something as small and kind as an I miss you would give away too much. It would mean that she went everywhere she wanted, accomplished everything she sought after, only to discover she needed to stay right where she was. It would mean that she was no more than a silly child moving in silly circles. It would mean that none of it really mattered — not what college she went to, how much distance she put between them, or what sport she played — there was always going to be that leash, that connection. Nelly, I am Heathcliff.

Mostly, I miss you would mean I’m an idiot, I was wrong, and I’m sorry.

How could she ever say that to her face? 

Hey, I was wrong the last couple of years. Sorry I fucked your boyfriend. Might’ve gone overboard. Want to get brunch?

The big cherry on top is, Shauna’s not sure that she was wrong. Not completely, anyway. Yes, fine, she shouldn’t have screwed Jeff, but all she wanted was a scrap of independence. Was it really so terrible of her to want to choose her own music and hobbies? Was she really such a bad friend?

Shauna groans, massages her temples. She’s way too young to deal with this divorce.

There’s a spread of papers laid out for her on her desk. The vague idea of homework. She only picks at them for a moment before she gives into the inevitable, trudging over to her bed and throwing herself down hard on top of it. The mattress groans beneath her in protest. Tough shit, she thinks at it.

Her running philosophy is that nothing can touch her while she’s asleep. That had worked when they were stranded, sticking it out day by day. Lie down, sleep, and face the madness in the morning. It’s potentially a bad habit but nowhere near her worst one. Guess what wins that slot?

Shauna flips onto her left side.

The last few minutes have made her feel like she’s at the intelligence level of, say, a strawberry.

She flips onto her right.

Not even a ripe strawberry, but a dirty, rotted piece, with mold clinging to its edges and flies everywhere and really, what metaphor is she making?

Back to her left.

After a full minute of twisting and turning, Shauna successfully manages to snuggle into the sheets, feeling her muscles sag and her headache surrender to the softness. She curls into a snug ball.

As the world slips from her, there’s one single, prevailing thought in her mind:

How long is the drive to Rutgers?

Notes:

“Nelly, I am Heathcliff” is a quote from Wuthering Heights:

“I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you. What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here? My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and HE remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. - My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I AM Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable.”

Chapter 8

Notes:

Sorry for the wait folks

”Okay, if you’re gonna puke again—“

Jackie pukes again.

She lands somewhere damp and strange to do it, the unknown floor beneath her knees slightly mushy, more like dirt than tile. Luckily (maybe?), her body’s not picky. Alcohol spews out of her in a nauseatingly glittery spray, leaving her panting, agonized, and praying to the universe that she’ll never have another drop in her life.

”Heard that one before.” Nat’s voice drifts in from afar, a note of humor ringing alongside the disgust. “About three times tonight from you, actually.”

Doubled over, Jackie groans. She doesn’t want to see the color pink ever again.

”It’s not funny.” She grumbles. Wiping her mouth, she looks around and sees a shock of looming black sky, the stars brightly sparkling. To her right, there’s a bush. To her left, a sidewalk. All unfamiliar. This is so not the way to her dorm. “Where the hell are we going?”

”You wanted saltines.”

Stupid drunk Jackie and her stupid drunk appetite.

”I don’t… I don’t…” The end of her sentence goes liquid. It winds up sounding a little like whhantit.

Somewhere in the background, Nat sighs, dropping to help collect her hair. “Gonna be honest, man. I’ve got no idea what you’re saying.”

”Whhantit!”

”Sure, sure… wan tit. Vomit in the other direction.”

 

*

 

”The saltines only work if you eat them.”

”No.”

”Yes.”

”No.”

”Just eat the fucking cracker, Jackie, Jesus Christ.”

”…no.”

 

*

 

”No way I’m carrying you.”

They’re at the dorm. This is the dorm. Jackie is pretty sure it’s the dorm. It walks like a dorm and talks like a dorm, and that means there are stairs.

She slumps drowsily into the body beside her, in no position to deal with them. ”C’mon, Shipman, I’m tired.”

It’s not Shauna. She knows that, distantly — but she also knows that Shauna’s the one that’s been taking care of her since they took their very first drink together freshman year, that Shauna’s the one who usually gives her piggyback rides and promises her Advil and water. And if it walks like a Shauna and talks like a Shauna, then…

“You’ve gotta stop saying that.” Nat tells her. She’s taking a saltine break, frustratedly picking crackers out of the plastic sleeve Jackie won’t touch. “I’m not Shauna.”

”I know.” Jackie bites back, suddenly on the verge of tears. Why can’t Shauna just be here? Nat takes one look at her and frowns.

”Fuck.” A pause. “Will you agree to not cry if I agree to carry you?”

She sniffs. ”Yep.”

 

*

 

”Woo!”

”Not woo, Jackie.” Nat mutters, even though it feels like she’s put Jackie on a mini rollercoaster, hauling her hazardously up the steps. “God, at least you’ve cheered up quick.”

They move on from the stairs, continuing their bumpy ride into the hallway. She’s loosely strapped to Nat’s back, her arms draped over her shoulders and her legs looped around her waist from behind. Each step just jostles her more, makes her giggle harder, her thoughts bubbling incoherently, like a bottle full of way too much fizz. While Nat grunts and swears, Jackie laughs, slinging her head back to look at the pretty, passing colors. The walls are grey, the carpet a swirl of fuzzy black and scarlet. Even drunk, Jackie can appreciate a good color scheme. What colors does stupid Brown have? Red? White? Brown? Lame and ridiculously on the nose.

Staring starts to make her head ache and her insides churn all over again, so after awhile, she’s forced to close her eyes, returning her face to the collar of a jacket that smells vaguely of beer and old leather. Somehow, it’s not awful. (Though, Jackie’s opinion may be skewed by the fact that everything else currently smells like vomit.)

“S’nice.” She slurs, breathing in the refreshing, not-vomit. “Smell nice.”

Nat barks out a laugh. “Now I know you’re trashed. Some guy spilled his drink on me earlier. That’s what you’re inhaling back there.”

”Still nice.”

”Uh-huh, I bet.” Nat replies noncommittally, walking them down the hall. “Hey, think you can say teenage alcoholism ten times fast?”

Jackie begins her valiant effort: ”Ten… teenage all…”

”Kidding, drunky.” Nat abruptly shrugs her off, still keeping hold of one arm so Jackie won’t slide down to the very blurry-looking floor. They’re stopped in front of her door, finally. Nat gives it a tug before turning to her, asking, “where are your keys?”

Oh, she knows this one!

Jackie clumsily digs through her pockets until she can present the little metal key ring, dropping it into Nat’s palm proudly. Nat accepts it with less fanfare, wordlessly shifting her attention onto the lock. For working one-handed, she’s impressively quick, clicking open the door and then ushering Jackie inside, as if they didn’t both just spend the night out partying. It’s no fair but also no surprise. After high school, Nat could probably teach an entire master class on holding her drink.

They bypass the lights, stumbling in blind. Nat tosses her keys somewhere Jackie will worry about later. The room may be dark, but she can still make out the inviting outline of the bed and that glorious mound of pillows…

”No, you don’t.” She’s snagged around the middle by Nat, who refuses to let her get near the mattress until she’s changed into fresh clothes and thoroughly wiped her mouth. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

Nat swears her way through the whole clean-up, grumbling things like fuck and shit and Jesus, this is so high school, but somehow the job gets done, Jackie half-blubbering, half-cooperating, hurriedly twisting herself into a hoodie to hide her emaciated stomach.

Once she’s deemed sufficiently put together, Jackie takes the go ahead to face plant into bed, snuggling gratefully beneath the covers, pulling up the sheets with two fumbling, drunken hands. Nat helps her in, though doesn’t slide beside her or spoon her from behind, the way Shauna would, and the bed feels a little emptier for it. Still, she can’t deny the warmth is bliss, leagues above what it was outside.

”Thanks, Nat.” She murmurs sleepily.

”Or thank me now, I guess.” Nat sighs, halfheartedly fluffing her pillow. “Go to sleep.”

Jackie yawns. “Kay.”

It’s quiet, then, no sound in the room except her shallow breathing. She shuts her eyes, sure she’ll drift off… until the sliding of a drawer interrupts her.

”What,” Jackie struggles onto her elbows, “what are you doing?”

Nat’s sat at her desk chair, back turned. When she sees Jackie’s up, she waves her off. ”Nothing. Sleep.”

”Okay again.”

And back down again.

The longer Jackie lays there, the easier it is for her body to sink deeper and deeper into the mattress, as if she’s being physically pulled by the bed. It’s soft and comfy and the exact reason why she misses the murmur of the dial tone, the whisper of Nat fiddling with a tiny slip of paper, muttering furtively into the phone.

”Yeah, sure, happy to hear from you, too… drunk off her ass… no, she’s fine… I know...”

 

*

 

Of all the ways Jackie dreamed she might wake up — still at the party, drooling along with the sprinklers outside, possibly passed out near a suspicious toilet somewhere — getting hotboxed by someone else in her own room never crossed her mind. Although maybe it should have, considering the company she’s been keeping lately.

As soon as she opens her eyes, she’s hit by a thick, obtrusive wall of smoke, and Jackie jolts up, thinking fire, thinking Shauna, thinking oh my god we have to get out before her brain calms down, retreating back to a comfortable zero on the crazy scale. Her hands are fisted in cotton sheets, not white-knuckled on trembling, airplane seats, and she can feel the mattress underneath her, and she’s not in the air, and so she’s fine. Fine, aside from the hangover, that is.

Jackie presses a hand to the side of her aching skull, peering around with a little groan. The window’s closed, and the lights still aren’t on, something that she’s immediately appreciative of once she has to squint through the dimmed, morning sun, hazy grey from whatever Nat’s smoking. Nat herself is sitting atop her desk, feet planted in the chair where a butt should be, stripped down to her ratty jeans and t-shirt. The jacket Jackie was sniffing is draped over the dresser, looking remarkably less appealing, now that she’s sober.

”Sorry.” Nat coughs, a small cloud coming out. It swims through the air, kind of undercuts the apology. “Figured this was better than the window, with the light and all.”

Jackie rolls her eyes mildly. ”Right, and it’s totally got nothing to do with you wanting somewhere to smoke.”

Nat offers her a somewhat chagrined smile, pointing the lit end of the joint at her. “Hey, you’re the one that ralphed on me last night. The way I see it, this makes us even.” Another short drag. “Besides, the weed will help your headache.”

”I didn’t say I had a headache.”

“You look it.”

“Great.” Jackie flops back onto the bed, both hands over her eyes. ”Whatever, it’s fine.”

”Can stop, if you want.”

“No.” She has bigger problems right now, like the axe attempting to split her head, pounding hard, piercing pain behind her eyes. Her palms remain closed over them, but even then, the darkness is hardly enough. She turns and whines into the pillow instead. “Ugh, god, I think I’m dying.”

”Relax.” Nat laughs — a big, cannon-like sound that has Jackie wincing — and slips off the desk, rounding the bed with the joint in her hand, waving it in front of Jackie like a gift. “Here, take it. I wasn’t kidding about the weed.”

Jackie eyes it dubiously, caught between wanting to alleviate her headache and wanting to save herself from the munchies. One time, after smoking too much at a party, she and Shauna bailed to go chow through the biggest pile of nachos known to man, ending the night clutching their stomachs. They’d laughed, then, because it’d been funny, then — funny and warm, whispering stupid jokes, walking home with their arms twined, giggling over nothing, no guilt or thought about the bloat on their bodies. She’d kept that memory, wadded up and golden, in her mind for a very long time, and now all it does is terrify her. She still hasn’t touched the first ‘gift’ Nat gave her, despite the many chances to try.

And she still wouldn’t, if her head wasn’t trying to drag her down into an early grave. The pain is near excruciating, this nauseating throb that spreads through every muscle, feeling like Death and Hell combined to birth an ugly, bizarre love child that dances on the brains of unsuspecting teenagers (and no, she’s not being dramatic). Jackie sighs after a moment, reaching forward. Turns out nursing a hangover makes her willpower woefully thin.

”Just a little.” She warns Nat, who seems pleasantly surprised, perching on the edge of the bed, now that they’re sharing. Nat’s grinning with the same delight she had, teaching Van how to make an apple bong, and Jackie sort of understands why her mom used to tell her not to speak to the Scatorccios. It can’t be any later than noon, and she’s already on her way to being high, just from taking her waking breath.

She inhales, holds it in her lungs and fights the twitching urge to cough. Does it again, smoother this time. The second hit makes things fuzzy in a way she really only associates with parties.

“Easy, Taylor.” Nat chuckles. “You’re gonna have to pay for that.”

Jackie blanches. ”What?”

”Kidding. Even, remember?” Nat takes the joint back from her, plucking it out of her hand, which has gone almost limp with surprise.

”No,” she says, shaking her head, “what did you just call me?”

“Taylor…?”

Holy shit, Jackie. You’re really pretty.

Oh no.

I love that your first name is my last name!

Oh god.

Taylor grins at her, breathless and flushed under the strobe lights—

She is so unbelievably, incredibly, stupendously stupid.

It’s at this moment that her thoughts finally slot together — key meet lock — in one big, horrible avalanche of memory. Not just Taylor, but her whole life. Fumbling through applying suntan lotion to Lottie’s long, strong legs and tracing the flex of Tai’s smooth, lean forearms and blushing too hard at those dumb, Jane Fonda workout tapes. Cringing away from Brian, Travis, and Jeff. Telling everyone about staring endlessly at Bruce Willis’ wang, when really, she’d only stared so long in hopes that she’d feel anything like she’d felt for the others. Winona Ryder, Demi Moore, Sigourney Weaver. Shauna. Her sulky mouth, her adorable nose, her dark eyes, prettier than her own (ex) boyfriend’s. All the hundreds of thousands of times when Jackie looked at her best friend and wanted to reach out and touch and never did and Jesus.

The phone calls. The motherfucking phone calls.

They’re planning to have sex, for god’s sake. How in the world has she done all of that without realizing that she’s… well, she’s…

Christ.

“Um, are you good?”

Jackie looks straight up at Nat, who’s peering at her skeptically. “How much of this do you have?”

 

*

 

“So, what, you just ran?”

“Yeah, dude, I nailed their windshield. What else was I supposed to do? They would’ve kicked my ass.”

“No, they wouldn’t. You’re a girl.”

Nat throws her a sidelong glance, shrugs. ”I saved Kevyn, then.”

”What a hero.” Jackie jokes, exhaling, and dancing her hand through the lingering smoke.

An hour ago, she accidentally spilled ash all over her bedding. They’ve since moved to the floor, both of them deciding it was a good time for the two of them to spread out along the carpet like sleepy star fish. It’s nice, she thinks, to spend the afternoon lazy and idle, loafing around without a thing to do. Nat took an empty Diet Coke can (courtesy of Jackie) from the trash that they’re smartly using as a makeshift ash tray, and the more they fill it, the more Jackie thinks she might not have a major panic attack. So. Progress.

She means to tell Nat, at some point, that she appreciates the help. None of her sorority sisters, friendly as they are, had been willing to bail on a party to bring her home. Yeah, the drugs are cool, but she also sort of missed having a teammate.

“Hey.” Nat clears her throat, perfectly out of the blue. She’s casual about it, interrupting Jackie’s loose train of thought. “Is Taylor a good kisser?”

There’s the panic attack.

”Shit, shit, shit.” Nat’s saying, as Jackie coughs and coughs and coughs, nearly hacking up a lung, with Nat acting somewhat frantic beside her, vigorously patting her back. “My bad. Are you good?”

“No, I’m not good.” Jackie slaps her hand away. None of this is good. How could anything be good? “You saw?!”

”Yeah, I was at the party—“

”The whole party saw?”

”Probably not. Just some of the people around.” She mutters quickly. “Look, it’s not—“

Nat tries, but Jackie shakes her head.

It is a big deal. 

“How do you even know Taylor?” She demands.

“Total pothead.” Nat answers with a short, almost ironic gesture around them. Okay, yeah, that tracks, Jackie thinks, remembering her heavy-lidded eyes inching closer. The memory makes her cheeks hot. More in embarrassment than arousal, at this point, but still. Nat continues watching her, and for some reason, the silence seems to make Nat think it’s alright to smile. “Also, I just love that my last name is your last name—“

“Oh my god!” Jackie wacks her hard on the shoulder.

“Relax, alright?” Nat hisses, trying to kick Jackie’s flailing arms away while balancing the roach in her hands. She licks her fingers and ashes it out with the damp pads before fully returning her attention to Jackie. “You’re not the only one to have a drunken girl kiss or two.”

Don’t tell me to relax—

Wait. Jackie looks at her, still processing. “You’ve kissed a girl?”

“Or two.” Nat shrugs again, like this is something normal they admit to each other. “Nobody cares, when you’re drunk like that. Mostly, they just care what gets their dicks hard.”

Jackie grimaces, remembering more, remembering the drunken, gaping boy, and how he’d practically acted as a cold shower. Well, a cold shower for her. Taylor had basically jumped the dude. Whatever was getting Jackie’s dick hard, it wasn’t him. Or any other boy, for that matter.

And yet, here Nat is, sitting with her, probably more concerned about the bong she’d left at home than anything Jackie’s doing.

”I mean it, Jackie. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.” She’s saying. “In the grand scheme of things, doesn’t this kinda rank lower on the crisis scale?”

Right. Plane crash. Right.

Jackie’s faced fire and dead, skeleton guys and, once, a shockingly murderous pack of teenage girls, so maybe she can take a breath and face this.

Curling her arms around her knees, she turns to Nat. It helps that she’s smoked, that her head’s a little floaty. That she’s not entirely there in the moment. “Did you like it?”

“Did you?” Nat volleys the question back at her. Jackie feels herself blush faintly. That seems answer enough for Nat, who smirks, before something quieter passes along her face, more honest. “Yeah, I liked it. We fooled around on the back lawn, sophomore year, at Randy’s whole post-homecoming thing. It was nice. Softer than with a guy, but not, like, too light, you know?” She eyes Jackie. “You know.”

”Shut up.” Jackie grumbles, but she’s putting the dots together now. Sophomore year at Randy’s? She was at that party. How did she not notice?

Nat laughs, spotting the gossipy wheels churning in her head. “Don’t even ask. I’m not telling you who it was.”

”Was she on the team?”

”…”

”So, she was!”

They go on like that for a while, talking, trading small tidbits back and forth. Jackie doesn’t get her to say anything concrete about their other potentially gay teammate, but Nat does give her some detail, such as who she’s told (Van and, by proxy, Tai) and why she kept hooking up with Travis (swings both ways, just sometimes in the wrong ones). Eventually Nat stretches, arching her hands lazily above her head and announcing she’s got to leave, but first getting up to dig the remaining saltines out of her jacket pocket.

She sets them on the desk while she’s slinging it back on, arms tucking into the sleeves. “Here, you wanted them.”

”Thanks.” Jackie tells her, as she goes, aiming a fleeting smile at the door.

She eats maybe six of the crackers before throwing them out. Six she shouldn’t have and wouldn’t have, if smoking didn’t make her so ravenously hungry.

Not much happens after that. Jackie airs out the room, cleans, takes a nap. Wakes up disoriented and drowsy, eyes seeking the window instantly, happy to see the light out and know she hasn’t slept through her Shauna time, her favorite part of the day. She does some homework while on-and-off watching the sun amble down towards the horizon, beginning to shift her thighs together more and more, in time with its gradual descent.

It’s funny, she really has been Pavloved here, her underwear becoming faintly sticky at the thought of what’s to come, the fabric warm and damp against her. Her only wish is that Shauna were here to feel it, but she can wait. Mostly patiently.

During a brief bathroom break, she has a strange run-in with one of the girls from her floor, who stops her while they’re standing at the sinks.

“Hey, Jackie. Some girl was asking around for your dorm. I didn’t know her. Looked kind of scowly.” 

Taylor is Jackie’s first thought.

Crap, what if she’s pissed? Jackie rushes back to her room at breakneck speed, slamming the door closed, and vowing to not come out until tomorrow or, hell, maybe even next week.

It’s not a hard vow to keep.

As usual, her roommate’s absence allows her to be horny and depraved in peace. It’s not quite time to call Shauna yet, but that isn’t stopping her body from throbbing with want and anticipation. She lays on the bed, leisurely pushes her pants down past her knees, and behind the safety of a closed door, fits a hand between her legs. She’s predictably wet, the bud of her clit already stiff and slippery around the hood, where she rubs quick little circles, answering its cries for attention.

It doesn’t take much. She pictures Shauna thrusting above her, whispering in her ear, reminding her she’s a dirty, desperate thing, and it doesn’t take much at all. Her eyes and cunt clench, equally hard, line of her body drawing tight, and as she rides it out in gasping, trembling waves, all she sees is Shauna.

Fuck.

She is a lesbian.

What is she going to tell everyone? God, what is she going to tell her mom?

Jackie has no idea why she’s thinking about her mother after an orgasm, but here she is: frowning. The last time they’d spoken, her mom had hassled her about how to navigate taking the buses home for the holidays, walking Jackie through it step by step, over and over, as if she were a baby. You’re gonna have to look closely at the bus route map, okay, honey? Be sure to check it twice, and use your hands if you need to remind yourself of your left and your right.

Remind herself of her left and her right? Seriously?

It had almost made her want to skip Thanksgiving altogether, but then she remembered the one person she could never truly forget.

Thanksgiving means two weeks until seeing her. Touching her, kissing her, having her, breathing her air, living in her space. Two weeks until Jackie gets to sleep with her, god, she can’t even broach the thought without wanting to come all over again. Her hand hasn’t moved from its position, and her fingers slip easily through her folds, pressing to her weeping entrance. This time, in her head, Shauna’s behind her on her knees, bending her over the desk, filling her with tongue, while spanking one asscheek hot, pretty, pink-red, and oh, the visual is so good. She knows she’s going to get herself there again, embarrassingly fast.

But then, an irritating knock on the door.

Jarred, Jackie stumbles off the bed and dresses at a breathless speed. She gracelessly yanks on her clothes, straightens out her hair, and grabs for the doorknob, pulls.

Her knees wobble.

“Holy shit.”

It’s just like before. On the other side of the door, all she sees is Shauna.

Notes:

Guess who’s in kissing distance

Chapter 9

Notes:

They’re gonna be fucking from here on out so mind the tags as you go

“Holy shit.”

Jackie doesn’t hesitate. Her body doesn’t seem to know how. One second she’s standing, both feet set inside the dorm, and the next, she’s hurling straight out the door, not a single thought in-between. It’s pure instinct, uncontrollable, almost rabid, the way she throws herself at her.

Shauna is here. Shauna is here. Shauna is here.

Here, wrapped in an old band tee and a loose, red-blue flannel that Jackie unabashedly nuzzles into, rubbing her cheek along the faint mixture of laundry detergent and cigarettes and Shauna. Fuck, she smells so good. Fuck, she feels so good. She’s firm and warm and everything Jackie has been dreaming of for months, a walking miracle presented out of the blue. This is almost too good to be true. Jackie would start to worry about her own sanity, if not for the fact that she can hear Shauna’s heartbeat through the fabric, pulsing a steady, sure rhythm in her ear.

Real.

Shauna huffs in surprise, stumbling back a few steps from the sheer force. For a single, stretching second, there’s nothing. No hug, just worrying stiffness. It almost seems as if she won’t respond — but then it happens all at once.

Her arms shoot up and capture Jackie in the most delightedly crushing embrace, making her own attempt at knocking them both over. She squeezes so wonderfully, wonderfully tight, encircling her completely. Jackie’s feet even lift up off the floor. She ends up smooshed right against Shauna’s chest, where a soft sigh is unraveling.

“Hey, Jax.”

Jax… oh, how lovely.

“Hi.” She whispers, her reply muffled by the flannel she’s shut her eyes and curled her fingers into. She swears her dignity must exist somewhere. She just can’t find it in this moment. One more minute and she’ll be purring.

She doesn’t know how to put word to the buzzing in her chest, the sudden fullness. It’s better than the orgasm she just had. Such a long time has passed since she was last held like this. The right way, the way that Shauna does it, equal parts cuddly and strangling. All five of her fingers dig, blunt, into the small of Jackie’s back, and Jackie loses any chance of not purring aloud.

Yes, a decision has been made. Jackie is going to stay here forever. Sure, it may be illogical, and sure, she may have to get crafty with her mailing address, but she’s nothing if not a go getter.

Come here, more, more, more, don’t ever leave—

A door swings open a little ways down the hall, laughter pouring out as four girls exit, chattering loudly enough to jolt her and Shauna apart.

Other people. Yay.

She clears her throat, shyer now as she reluctantly extracts herself from Shauna, stepping back and folding her arms around her midsection. Her head feels more fog than brain. She still can’t quite believe what’s in front of her, who’s in front of her. 

“You’re here.” Jackie says because what else is there to say to the best friend/dirty cheater that she may be in love with?

“Yeah.” Shauna acknowledges. Jackie waits, waits some more, and wow, okay, that is actually the end of her sentence. 

She tries not to roll her eyes, pressing: “Why?”

Shauna dodges both the question and the stare, instead quietly twisting her mouth to the side.

It should be frustrating. It is frustrating, but it’s also such a familiar gesture that Jackie’s heart aches. She can’t help it. Shauna’s still all soft cheeks, pouty lips, and guarded eyes. Right now, there’s a dark pair of bags underneath them, and underneath that, a frown showing off a serious lack of sleep. The tired look is only further exaggerated by the size of the backpack sagging her shoulders, dwarfing her with its humungous weight. It’s basically junior year finals week all over again. She looks as if she could be strolling right through their old high school, like she never even left. Like nothing bad ever happened to them at all. 

”I’m… I got…” Shauna’s trying. She seems reluctant to begin, pursing her lips, when another burst of laughter sounds down the hall.

”You know what, never mind.” Jackie decides with a short glance over at the girls. It would probably be better to do whatever they’re going to do in private. “Come in. Take your backpack off first.”

Jackie moves back another step so Shauna can duck inside. It’s surreal, watching her feet cross over the threshold, feeling her presence enter the space. This was supposed to be your place, too, bubbles up inside her head, but she squashes it. Something tells her the comment wouldn’t be appreciated. 

She tries giving her a subtle up and down, while she’s turning to pull the door closed, but it’s the same as her front. Legs, arms, back, all intact. No spontaneously grown tail or surprise neck tattoo.

“Nice room.” Shauna murmurs, toeing further inside as the latch clicks closed.

“Thanks.” Jackie answers distractedly, spying some dirty laundry hanging off the desk chair. Crap. She whips it into the hamper as discretely as possible, hoping Shauna doesn’t notice that or the seat. It still has that (ever looming) stain on it, and there’s only so much humiliation a girl can take. She probably needs to give the whole room a good sweeping through. What if Shauna finds the weird amount of protein bars she has? And the porno mags, god, she should…

Jackie pauses, stopping dead in her tracks. 

Because Shauna’s not looking at the desk or the laundry or the room. Just her.

She shifts, her arms twitching to return to that same safe place around her middle. Forget preparing the room, she hasn’t prepared herself. She’s not ready. It’s not Thanksgiving. There’s no turkey in sight.

Is there any chance she could just throw her fat in the hamper? Bye bye, lard, hello happiness?

Shauna drags her attention up from its fixed point, re-meeting her eyes. There’s nothing but a lamp on, and the dim light casts a veil, cloaking her face in unreadable shadow. Though, it doesn’t exactly take a flashlight to tell she’s frowny — which isn’t exactly working wonders for Jackie’s self-esteem, given ‘frowny’ isn’t the most positive adjective to have pinned to her body — but that look, it’s weird, it’s like, like—

Guilt?

Except that makes no damn sense. None of this does.

Why does she have a backpack? What’s in there? And why does it look so heavy? Is it clothes, books, school stuff? Sex stuff? How much do sex toys even weigh? Do dildos have heft to them? Are they going to have sex? When? Where? Here? Now?

”You’re thinking really loud.” Shauna notes offhandedly, as if Jackie’s brain is beaming out a Bat-Signal of SEX TOYS, SEX TOYS, SEX TOYS. What’s embarrassing is that, at this point, it very well could be. Who’s to say she’s not advertising her thoughts?

Before Jackie can come up with a rebuttal, Shauna releases the bag, unceremoniously letting it fall from her shoulders. It drops and lands with an incredible thump between the two of them, practically shaking the poor floorboards.

”Jesus, Shipman.” Jackie startles. Sometimes, she forgets she’s been fawning over a complete nerd.

Shauna shrugs. “It’s only books.”

”And you’re opening a library…?”

”They’re textbooks, mostly.” She explains. “Pretty much everything I need to keep on top of for the next few days.”

Wait.

”The next few days? You mean you’re not just visiting, you’re actually staying here?”

“Yeah.”

“In the dorm?”

“Where else?” Shauna asks, a touch defensive. She throws a long glance over the room, taking in the shoes, posters, pens, notebooks, perfumes, and nail polishes. Everything, really, but the bed and the desk, which they both seem to silently be giving a wide berth. “My mom can’t afford a hotel, and even if she could, it’s not like she knows I’m here.”

Jackie just stares, still processing.

(Damn, did she miss her and her sulky mouth.)

“You’re the one that wanted to see me, remember?” Shauna reminds her impatiently, after another beat of silence. “Do you not want to anymore?”

“No, I do, of course I do.” Jackie rushes to say.

”Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“I don’t get it.” She emphasizes. There’s a strange, tentatively happy feeling starting in her gut. “You wanted to see me, so you just… what, you dropped everything?”

“I didn’t ‘drop everything’. I’m already studying for midterms. See?” Shauna pointedly waves her hand at the overinflated bag. 

“Yeah, aliens are seeing that from space, Shipman.”

Jackie’s enjoying getting to roll the last name around in her mouth again. Shipman, Shipman, Shipman.

“You think it’s huge now, try hauling it through three bus rides and up a set of stairs. I’m, like, brutally sweating.” Shauna mutters, tugging at the front of her shirt. It sticks to her slightly, as if damp. Jackie immediately takes note of the exerted flush snaking down her chest. “I guess Coach wasn’t being too anal about practicing our endurance.”

She swallows, forcing her gaze up. Since when are sweat and dirty clothes so attractive? Is this really what’s doing it for her these days?

”Yep.” She says, hopefully lightly. “You know, us team leaders are chock full of wisdom.”

Shauna shakes her head, a small smile coming to her face. ”At least your ego hasn’t changed.”

It’s said fondly, without any of the sting. In fact, the silence that follows is almost warm. 

That is, until Shauna’s eyes begin to drift below the neck again. They lower all the way down, crawling over her body in what feels like a silent dissection. She has the undeniable urge to hide herself under a shirt or a jacket or something. It’s surprising what a struggle it is to stand there, taking the spotlight, especially when she used to like being looked at. She used to savor the weight of all the stares trailing after her in any given crowd. Now it’s as if she can actually feel the grating cut of the scalpel, edging beneath her skin. What if Shauna’s turned off? What if she did come here for sex and only just changed her mind, forced to keep silent to spare Jackie’s sad, pathetic little feelings?

The idea stings. Screw that. She doesn’t need her feelings spared. She knows what she looks like. It just kills her to know that Shauna can see it as well.

“So, you’re sleeping here.” Jackie repeats, forcing herself to get it together. Put the crisis away. She scrambles for reasonable thought. “Do you want anything? I think the dining halls might be closed, but I’ve got snacks, if you’re hungry.”

More staring, no talking. 

”Shauna?”

”Sorry.” Shauna blinks. “No thanks. The trip here sort of sucked. I really just want to crash.”

That means the two of us in one bed—

“Okay, cool.” Jackie says. This is what’s happening. Cool, cool, cool.

Shauna continues looking at her. ”What’d you have for dinner, anyway?”

Her first thought is to blurt burger, but she doesn’t want to beam the image of herself chowing down on grease-sodden beef into Shauna’s mind. Her second thought is the last dish her mom made her. 

“Chicken casserole.”

”Was it good?”

Jackie absently taps her finger against her arm. Why does everyone care so much about food? There must be a trillion more interesting topics out there.

“Yeah. I mean, nothing beats my mom’s, but uh, the food’s not bad here.” She lies, hopefully convincingly, but her smile feels thin and fleeting. The food could literally be dog shit on a plate, for all she knows. “You should change. And shower. I’m not letting you in my clothes if you’re sweaty. No offense.”

A shrug.

“None taken.”

Unable to keep still, Jackie walks to her dresser and plucks open a drawer. Two of us, one bed. Two of us, one bed. Two of us, one bed. Dear lord. 

She gets out some pajamas before turning to check with Shauna. “Shorts, okay?” 

“Sure.” Shauna agrees, not picky.

Since she’s already in the process, Jackie goes ahead and gathers an extra towel and toothbrush as well.

”The bathroom’s down the hall. I’m probably also gonna…” She cuts herself off, making a vague hand gesture instead. Is saying I’m gonna shower with you too porny? It feels too porny. “I can show you.”

”Okay.”

Light steam is coating the air inside the bathroom when they enter, half the showers filled and running. They’re getting in around dinner time, so it’s not too crowded, a few students shuffling here and there, mostly crowding the sinks with their soaps and face creams. Jackie locates a pair of empty stalls, waiting side by side, and pulls Shauna over.

”Hey, these ones work.” They slip past a gaggle of meandering, wet-haired boys, attempting to give each other noogies. Jackie smiles. “This is kinda just like practice, huh?”

The two of them, the water, the lazy chatter and tomfoolery.

“Kind of.” Shauna amends, flicking one of the mini flowers patterned on the curtain. Her eyes slide to Jackie. “Except we normally showered together after practice. Remember the pervy, no-wall stalls?”

Blushing, Jackie shoots a look off to the side.

Yes, alright, she remembers the pervy, no-wall stalls. How could she forget, with all the little glimpses she got of strong thighs and softly curved hips and wet, dripping skin and Jesus, how did she ever miss this lesbian thing?

Years and years of not realizing it, and now it might as well be an alarm blaring in her head.

It’s ridiculous, how spectacularly hard she finds it to hold eye contact with Shauna all of a sudden. Like now? With the soon-to-be nakedness and the steam? It’s too overwhelming. There’s no words for how pretty she is. Aphrodite reborn.

“Yeah, well, not this time.” She mutters quickly, close to tongue tied. “I think I’ll take the left.”

She dodges Shauna’s reaction, slips inside, and yanks the curtain closed behind her, all in the span of a nanosecond. It sets her nerves at ease a bit to know she can’t be seen. That anxious flutter fades away, replaced by a sense of urgency. It’s high time for an Everything Shower.

Taking advantage of the privacy, she starts stripping the clothes from her body, setting them out of the way. First her pants, then her sweater. Right around the time her underwear’s about to join the pile, she hears water rushing in the neighboring stall, plus a voice.

“Jackie? You didn’t give me any soap.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She peers around the shower wall to find Shauna’s inky-wet head jutting out, one arm already extended. It’s quite the picture: ruddy cheeks, water-spotted shoulders, cleavage. Jackie catches a distracting eyeful, even through the steam.

”You’re staring.” Shauna points out.

”Oh. Sorry.”

“You said that.” She teases, while Jackie fumbles with the slipping bottle. Her skin might just be flushed hotter than the water itself.

”I know.” She grumbles, squeezing a big glob of body wash into Shauna’s palm. 

Shauna flashes a grin as she retreats. “Thanks.”

”Yeah, no problem.” Jackie answers limply, before ducking back into her stall. She twists the nozzle so it shoots out startling, arousal-killing cold.

Stupid Shauna and her stupid sexy face.

It’s not fair. This isn’t fair. Whatever this is wasn’t the plan, and yet Shauna’s just here, without notice, pulling the rug out from under her again.

So annoying, so infuriating, Jackie wants to lunge through the shower wall, Kool-Aid Man style, and kiss the audacity straight out of her. The truth is, there’s never been a moment when she truly, truly didn’t want Shauna there. Even during all the times she was mad at her, it would’ve been more satisfying arguing in person than apart. Everything would’ve been more satisfying in person than apart. Her biggest wish in the world is standing on the other side of that wall.

It’s an unimaginable struggle not to speed through her shower, but she resists, soaping up, then rinsing, then soaping up again, all before getting out the razor. She’s more thorough than she’s ever been in her life. The quicker she goes, the quicker they can return to their slow-going camaraderie, but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to greet Shauna with Sasquatch legs. 

Once she’s finished, pink-skinned and well-shaved everywhere from the neck down, she chances a look, unable to help her curiosity.

Immediate mistake. 

You could’ve tried harder.

The guilt hits her with everything, making her want to cringe away. Though she can’t. It’s just her. The disgusting thing is her.

It was like you didn’t even care. It was only one semester, and you couldn’t handle that. You’re pathetic. Weak.

Somehow, her body seems an imprint of everything she’s ever eaten, all the carbs and sugar and fat in her stomach, like rolling, swelling trash in Shauna’s ridiculous, bloated backpack.

You disgust me. You disgust Shauna.

No.

The others thrived in a plane crash, but you… poor, tragic little baby, blubbering over saltines.

Stop.

They were right to not want you.

Jackie snatches the towel off the rod, skittering it over her body until she’s dry, and the voice in her head has all but run out of words. They were right, they were right, they were right—

She exits to find Shauna hunched over one of the sinks, halfway through brushing her teeth, a cascade of dark hair dripping down her towel-wrapped spine. The bathroom’s line of mirrors aren’t Jackie’s best friend right now, but Shauna is, and there’s little to do but join her. 

“Good shower?” Jackie asks, saddling up with her own toothbrush in hand.

“Uh-huh.” Shauna confirms around the suds in her mouth. “You?”

“Never better.”

They finish together, Jackie stealing less-than-sneaky glances at Shauna in the mirror. Shauna notices each time and, each time, gives her the same frothy, compact smile, setting a swarm of butterflies free in her stomach. It’s pleasantly domestic, the two of them existing peacefully, bumping elbows while they gargle. 

Back inside the room, it only continues. The ol’ post practice, I’m definitely not checking you out and also no homo shuffle. (Admittedly, Jackie’s still working on the name.) They dry and dress silently, puttering around each other, looking but not looking. Jackie’s twitchy-hot from the gaze she knows is trailing her bare body. She lets Shauna borrow her hairdryer, which whirls loudly enough that neither of them make the attempt to speak. Shauna perches on the edge of the desk, where the plug is, and works steadily, without comment, like she doesn’t know Jackie’s fucked herself right there. Jackie is eternally grateful. And Shauna is somehow making Full House pajamas attractive.

“So,” she says, unplugging the dryer and twisting its cord around her fingers in a way that gets Jackie salivating, “is your roommate coming back tonight or…?”

”No. She’s never here.” Jackie answers. Translation: you can fuck me on that desk if you want to.

“What’d you do, bribe her for a single?” Shauna questions amusedly, holding out the hairdryer for Jackie to take.

”I didn’t need to bribe her. She’s got this boyfriend she’s always off seeing. It’s super cute, actually.” Jackie begins cheerily as she’s crossing the room, prepared to give her the full scoop. “They spend every minute together, like two best friends. I think they’re really in love.”

“That sounds nice.”

”What, having a single room?” She stops in front of Shauna to grasp the hairdryer. Their fingers brush briefly in the exchange.

“No.” Shauna corrects, something curious about her tone. ”Being in love.”

”Oh.”

Oh.

“I’m sure the single’s nice, too, though.” Shauna adds dismissively. She retracts her hand, but that doesn’t stop Jackie’s from tingling.

“I mean, it could be nice to have some company sometimes.” Translation: please fuck me on that desk, I want you to.

”Yeah?”

(Hopeful) translation: I will fuck you on that desk — until you cry, because I’m Shauna, and I’ve become a trusty friend who keeps her promises.

“Yeah.”

Translation: pretty please?

None of the above happens. They look. They stare. It’s torturous. Jackie’s feeling remarkably less sure about that Bat-Signal in her head.

After a moment, she turns her back, going to tuck the hairdryer away. She feels as if she might just drop and present herself to Shauna like a baboon, but instead her legs carry her robotically towards the nightstand, where she flicks off her lamp.

”Okay.” Huffs the vague shape in the dark. “Great, I’ll just search through the shadows for your bed.”

Dry, sarcastic, oddly endearing. Jackie knows that voice in shadow, would know it deaf or even from her grave.

”Come here, you big baby.” She sighs, reaching out. “I’ve got you.”

And she does, finding Shauna’s arm with ease. Half of her is sure that Shauna could find her with equal ease, and that’s the half that’s buzzing, that’s able to recognizes this small, faux annoyance for what it is: an excuse to bridge the gap.

Shauna’s got nice, warm forearms. She’s always run hot, maybe because Jackie’s always run cold, like a miracle furnace. Jackie’s happy to have her in her bed again for more reasons than one. Soon they’re both trying to squeeze in beside each other, awkwardly attempting to maintain personal space inside the thin strip colleges call a mattress. They don’t do a very good job, considering they end up nose to nose, but they’ve seen sharing beds and car seats and chairs since they were in the womb, practically. Space has never really been their strong suit. She wouldn’t be shocked if a little bit of Shauna’s spit is hers.

“Are the beds at Brown any bigger?” Jackie lobs at her, just for something to say. Shauna, done shifting about with the covers, shakes her head.

“Smaller.”

She’s lying close enough that Jackie feels the word fan across her chin in a minty puff.

”Heh.” Jackie laughs (airy) and then, (DEAFCON 1) opens her mouth. “Any smaller and we’d be kissing.”

Silence has never been so loud. Probably because Jackie can’t hear the sound of her own breathing, which has stopped in its entirety.

She can’t even see Shauna. All she has for a reaction is this soft, shaky inhale.

”Well.” Shauna says, measured, low. “Too bad you didn’t get in.”

Oh, you’ve gotten mean, she thinks, dazedly, her clit aching between her legs. Somewhere some dam is breaking. Jackie tips forward. A soft, gentle click. It’s the lightest touching of lips…

…until it isn’t.

Shauna kisses her (Shauna kisses her!) once, twice, three times, each little peck a little longer, like she’s growing accustomed to it.

The fourth kiss comes with magnificent, earth-upending tongue that goes ahead and slips right past the seam of Jackie lips, prodding inside. She lets her in, of course she does. She’s not programmed for anything else. It’s been two hundred and fifty-seven days since she’s seen her in person. Two hundred and fifty-seven days of hell, of walking to class alone and kissing the wrong people and staring too hard at brunettes and avoiding re-watching Beaches and flinching at trees and memorizing old photographs and dragging her fingers over that cursed number and dragging her fingers over it again and gripping the phone with five white knuckles and starving. She’s starving. She’s never, ever wanted someone so badly in her life. Everything else is grey next to Shauna’s startling technicolor.

So she fists a hand in Shauna’s (her) sleep shirt and pulls, tugs, works to slide their legs together, all that smooth, naked skin gliding beneath the covers with purpose.

“Jackie.” Shauna pants against her suddenly. “Jackie, wait.”

“What? Why?” She sounds whiny, and it must do something to Shauna because she’s awarded with two more biting kisses to her mouth, Shauna swooping down to do it.

Shauna’s sloppy, words muffled in their frantic, wet tangle. “Just, don’t you think we should talk about it?”

Wriggling fussily, Jackie rolls onto her back, getting both legs around Shauna as soon as she follows. ”I don’t think we should talk about anything right now.”

The right message lands, if Shauna’s responding noise is anything to go by. She slumps, groans. And yet, something still holds her back, all of her weight settling to pin Jackie in place, firm hands shutting around her waist, their foreheads nudging together. Shauna’s a heavy, warm trap from above.

”I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She says, impossibly close and — unexpectedly — impossibly soft.

Jackie’s throat does something funny. Does she not seem okay? Does she not seem happy and strong and well put together?

”I’m okay. More than.” Jackie assures, touched but also impatient, hips rocking against Shauna’s front, as much as she’s able. “Really, we don’t need to talk about Jeff.”

Shauna frowns peculiarly. “That’s not… that’s not what I… Jesus, do you know how to stay still?“

”No.” Jackie admits, coming apart a little at that tone. She arches harder into her. “Need you.”

Another kiss. Another moan crushed between them as Shauna takes claim of her mouth.

“Say that again.” Shauna demands, and Jackie throbs, squirming even more desperately.

“Need you. Shauna, I need you.”

That’s all it takes to get the ball rolling (or rather speeding), Shauna closing that last half-inch of space with a new, fevered urgency. Instead of returning to Jackie’s lips, she aims lower, nosing bloodhound-eager along Jackie’s jaw, dragging the flat of her tongue across the underside in one long, indulgent lick, before finding a sensitive spot to suck. Suck, bite, maul, whatever. Shauna’s relentless, and it’s all wildfire to Jackie, who’s burning up, no chance of accomplishing anything more than a helpless twist or moan. She brings her hands up and clutches at Shauna’s shoulders, while Shauna paints her neck achy with bruises, not at all shy about introducing teeth to this. It’s like she’s scenting her, marking her, trying to climb inside, fuck.

Jackie wants her inside so, so much. Whether that means folding her into bite size pieces or flat out crushing Shauna up and snorting her, she doesn’t care. She jogs her hips up, gasping when Shauna gives her a thigh to rock against, one leg shifting and slotting between her own. The pressure’s perfect, miles better than a desk. Unlike the wood, Shauna’s mobile, meeting her tit for tat with these sharp little thrusts forward, shaking the flimsy bed frame. She’d be fucking her into the mattress if it weren’t for their clothes, and it’s that thought exactly — legs spread, Shauna burying up inside, right away, biology be damned — that makes Jackie think they should really get a move on.

She pulls the fabric that’s clumped in her hands, then pulls it again, until Shauna takes the hint, laughing once, breathlessly, as she sits up to do away with her shirt.

Genuine pain courses through Jackie during those two seconds of separation. She begs silently for her to move faster, dropping her hands and running grabby fingers over Shauna’s hips, knees, thighs, everywhere, every place she can touch. She wants them permanently melded together.

The shirt gets tossed on the floor. Jackie’s mouth drops open. She never gave Shauna a bra.

“Oh, wow, you’re pretty.” She exhales, unable to help it. They’re so full and soft-looking, hanging barely an inch from her face. Talk about the view of her life.

“Come on, Jackie.” Shauna shakes her head, bashful and a bit dismissive. ”You’ve seen me naked before.”

”Not like this.” She whispers, biting down on her lip. The words are more charged than she means them to be, Shauna going still above her.

Jackie reaches out and unconsciously traces the inviting curve of one breast, stroking along to where moon-pale skin melts into a rosy, budded nipple. She rolls it experimentally between her fingers without thought, in some kind of hazy boob trance. All she knows is she’s delighted when it stiffens further — and even more delighted when Shauna moans.

She was so right. This is way better in person.

Out of nowhere, Shauna catches her wrist. Jackie pauses, only to be yanked into another fierce kiss. She’s released, wet-mouthed and panting, before she can begin to process it.

”You’re the pretty one.” Shauna tells her, just as strongly. Her eyes are nothing but pupil, all black. “Now lay back. No more talking.”

Jackie complies, falling back onto the pillows again, with Shauna trailing after. She pushes limply at Shauna’s shoulders, when she tries to paw off her shirt, urging her lower. Shauna doesn’t complain, just changes course. A kiss goes to Jackie’s clothed stomach, then her hip, and then finally to her left thigh, as Shauna slips off the front of the bed, kneeling. Relief pulses through Jackie, though she’s not sure for what: the imminent promise of sex or the safety of being able to keep her top on during it. Either way, she’s never felt more grateful. 

And then, Shauna’s tugging her shorts off and there’s hot breath right there and Jackie’s cunt is soaked and swollen and and and

”Oh fuck!”

Shauna burrows her tongue in to the hilt.

Jackie knows she said no talking, but no part of her is physically capable of holding in the swears — fuck, fuck, fuck — as Shauna splits her open. Her whole body lifts and clenches at the sudden, overwhelming pressure, her second orgasm of the day racking through her like a bursting bullet.

It’s immediate. Earth-defying. She can’t see, can’t think, can’t even breathe anything except Shauna in that singular second. There’s only her, and the bone-deep pleasure that surges through, forcing a loud cry out of Jackie and making slick gush from her quivering cunt.

Shauna hooks a firm arm over her hips to keep her from moving too much but shows no signs of slowing down or stopping. If anything, she doubles her efforts, trying to lap up every drop of the come that floods out of Jackie.

She’s going to kill her this way, Jackie’s sure of it, that hungry, brutal mouth zeroing in on her clit just as she’s getting done, trapping it in a wet seal. Her hands scramble for the bed, frantically raking the sheets into her fists. Shauna’s tongue works in quick circles around the sensitive little bud, needing no direction on how exactly to take her apart. And it makes sense — Jackie knows Shauna sick, rude, happy, sad, at the ends of the earth, and in the middle of the wilderness, and so, of course Shauna knows when she wants two fingers lodged inside.

”There, there, right there, god—“

Words can’t express how good it feels to have them curling, right where they were always supposed to be, rubbing up against her g-spot with ease.

Shauna retracts her fingers slightly, only to pump back in hard, fucking into Jackie in a way that pulls another sob from her. She’s hitching out these desperate, almost hurt-sounding noises, her skin aflame as she fails to keep the whimpering at bay, tiny pleas filling the room, alongside the squelching that accompanies each thrust. Please don’t stop. Please I need it. Please, Shauna, please I wanna come. Jackie swears the neighbors must know, must hear her in here taking it, moaning like she’s nothing more than some college slut. 

All she needs is a few more minutes of Shauna’s merciless rhythm, hitting that same, perfect spot each time, before every limb she has is shuddering, the tidal wave coming again, wetness leaking endlessly from her. On and on and on.

She feels as if Shauna’s eaten her alive.

(Or driven her to make really intense, cunnilingus metaphors until she dies.)

Slowing down, Shauna feeds her a couple of light thrusts and helps ease her gently back from her peak. Jackie lays there senselessly, her thoughts light and empty, her body boneless and obedient and, for once, wonderfully full.

The ceiling spins above her. She doesn’t register much but the emptiness as Shauna slips out and the new line of kisses, ambling upwards, soon after. 

Sweaty, dark hair and a satisfied smile slide into her vision. Shauna Shipman, trusty friend and keeper of promises, licks a tear off her cheek she didn’t even know was there, before plying her with one more kiss. Probably their filthiest, lips mashing together in a slew of spit and come.

“What happened to no more talking?” Shauna asks, tone as light and teasing as ever. There’s no anger in it, and so Jackie weakly exhales:

”I feel like you shot me.”

Shauna laughs, leans over the nightstand, and returns with some plucked-out tissues. “I’m gonna assume that’s in a good way.”

”Good way, definitely.” Jackie confirms, staying still while Shauna carefully rids the saliva from her face. “What happened to being tired?”

”I changed my mind.”

“And, um, was that a good thing for you? I could—“

Shauna cuts her off in the nicest way possible, pecking her lips. “Not tonight.”

Jackie shifts unsurely. “Okay, but you didn’t say if…“

Cut off again. Still nice, still lovely.

”Yeah, it was a good thing for me, too.” Shauna’s quiet for a bit, stroking the tissue along her jaw, while Jackie lulls in the joy of the answer.

They had sex. They really, really did it, after all of these years. Not only that, but it was good. Shauna likes her. Her taste, her sounds, her body. Or what she’s seen of it, at least.

A hand slips between her thighs again, jarring her out of her thoughts, but Shauna’s just cleaning there, too, wiping sticky slick off her. She shivers, Shauna’s knuckles brushing still-heated skin. There’s something magnetizing about watching her move so tenderly in the aftermath. Has it always been like this? Is this how Shauna is after the call cuts?

Shauna notices her looking, gives her that same bathroom smile, except not as foamy-lipped, and squeezes her ankle, presumably just because she can. It’s only a moment, but her hand looks so big there, set on Jackie’s leg, that Jackie immediately crystallizes the image in her head. She looks thin in Shauna’s hold. Unbelievably, incredibly thin. Jackie’s in love.

”Where’s your trash can?” Shauna asks, once she’s done.

“Mm. Forget about it.” Jackie hums, wrapping loose arms around Shauna’s neck to keep her trapped. “Don’t get up.”

”You want me to leave cum rags on the bed?”

”On the floor.” Jackie instructs, wrinkling her nose. “And don’t say cum rags.”

“Sure, your highness.” Shauna chucks the tissues into the darkness (to be found at a later, much less fortunate date), before settling back down, drowsy fondness in her eyes. She cards her fingers through Jackie’s hair. “You want to sleep like this?”

Yes!

”Okay.” She shuts her eyes for three seconds and… “Ew, wait, it’s wet.”

The damp mattress can go right on the long list of absolutely-nots, alongside Lottie’s weird bear meat, split ends, and gutting a baby deer. 

“And whose fault is that?” Shauna replies, dragging her into a warm cradle, and rolling over, switching their positions so Jackie’s on top, dry. Jackie ends up snug against Shauna’s collar, inhaling the mixture of their scents.

It’s a nice place to be. 

Home.

Notes:

Calm before the storm pt. 1

Chapter 10: Shauna Interlude

Notes:

Just wanna say - Shauna Shipman, girl kisser, I love you. And I called you were into knife play.

Anyway, here goes the calm before the storm pt.2

“Oh… Nat, it’s you,” Shauna grumbles, still mostly asleep. Still blinking hard, still rubbing the crust from her eyes, still barely (and disappointedly) registering that this mysterious, late night call isn’t from Jackie. That Jackie might be the only person who she can tolerate mysterious, late night calls from. “Hi?”

Meaning, why the hell are you calling me at three in the morning? Shauna glares over at the clock. Just hours ago, she was burrowing into bed without any interruption but her own thoughts.

“Yeah, hey,” Nat replies distractedly, ”is it, like, normal for Jackie to puke sparkles?”

”What?”

She takes an annoyingly long time to answer for someone who’s interrupting beauty sleep, audibly fussing with something in the background. It almost sounds as if she’s shushing someone, just before her voice returns, in the same hushed tone. “I think she’s good, but I haven’t—“

”What?” Shauna can’t even hear her. “Why the fuck are you whispering?”

All she’s hearing is tidbits about Jackie and puking and sparkles, and it’s making her fingers clench too hard around the nice, university-issued phone that will most likely come with a bill if she breaks it.

”Cause Jackie’s in bed passed out.” Nat continues, a touch louder. “I’m trying not to wake her.”

”Passed out?“ Shauna repeats, her throat filling with the most irritating little lump. “Well — is she okay?” 

”Great, so you can hear me.”

”Nat.” 

Out of all the old high school acquaintances she’d like to strangle, Nat’s always ranked very low on the list. Right now, she’s rounding top three.  

”Relax, she’s fine. Just drunk.” Nat finally explains through a bit of an aggrieved sigh, worn out. “I ran into her at a party, caught her spewing chunks in the bathroom, but she seems good now. Probably gonna have a wicked hangover.”

Shauna lets out her own stupid, relieved breath. Of course, Jackie’s fine. Of course. When isn’t she?

It’s just a hangover. She just needs rest. And water. And carbs. And some of those big, fuzzy blankets that she likes to swaddle herself in.

“She’ll probably complain about the light.” Shauna muses aloud, recalling all the late nights, routinely cinching the curtains shut.

”The light?”

Shauna bites her tongue, reigns in the part of herself that jerks to remind Nat to fluff Jackie’s pillows, to take her makeup off, to smack her back, if (when) she starts gagging. It’s pathetic, the way her instincts jump, and there can’t be much point in giving hangover lessons to Nat, anyway. Might as well try teaching a track star to run.

“The sunlight in the morning.” She clarifies — begrudgingly. “It ticks her off. Her eyes are sensitive.”

“Her eyes are sensitive.” Nat repeats. Shauna’s not particularly fond of the tone that’s being used.

“Yes.” She confirms. And then, testily, when Nat fails to respond: “What?”

“Nothing. Just, the last time I saw you two together, you were biting her head off. And now, ‘her eyes are sensitive.’”

Stupid fucking cabin from hell with its stupid fucking lack of privacy. Sometimes, Shauna forgets the whole friendship-imploding argument was public.

“Things change.” She answers curtly. “Was there a reason you wanted to talk to me or…?”

”Not me. Jackie. She asked for you.”

“Okay.” Shauna says, flat as she can. This is the part where she pretends her heart doesn’t squeeze in her chest.

”Look, alright, I know you two are still divorced or whatever,” Nat says, plowing on before Shauna has the chance to interrupt, “but she seems fucked up. Like really fucked up. Maybe find some compassion.”

”You literally just said she was fine—“

”She doesn’t look like she’s eating. At all. Maybe it’s some wilderness thing or maybe she wants to walk runway, but it’s not healthy.”

Confused as she is frustrated, Shauna splutters. “So you’re calling to let me know Jackie’s skinny?”

”I’m calling to let you know Jackie’s dying.” Nat tells her, with all the bluntness of an axe. Sharp, swift, cutting. “Do something about it or don’t.”

And she’s gone.

What she said, however, isn’t.

Shauna sets the phone down slow, on autopilot, sure she’s lost feeling in her hands. Her arms. Her feet.

This is ridiculous. Jackie’s always been thin. Always, even as a little kid, and it’s never been an issue. Far from it. Hell, it’s part of what made her Wiskayok High’s walking wet dream, Jeff’s girlfriend, and her mother’s pride and joy. 

Now it’s a problem? Now, what, she’s dying? No. Plainly, no. Fuck that. She can’t be dying, not when Shauna got done talking to her a few hours ago. It’s unthinkable. She was fine. She is fine. 

But.

She does have a habit of skipping meals when she’s upset. She’ll never accept a full sugar soda, if they have diet. She always offers Shauna half of her dessert, every dinner, every time. And that means nothing, usually — what teenage girl doesn’t want to be thin? Have a waist like Jackie’s? Thighs like Jackie’s?

But. 

Doomcoming, motherfucking Doomcoming, that one cursed night, splintered beneath her skin. All of them drugged, gone to rabid wolves except for Jackie, who was fully upright, mysteriously clear-eyed, because… because she didn’t eat the soup, did she? Because she’d read the diary and she doesn’t eat when she’s upset and because—

Shauna upset her.

It’s akin to putting on glasses for the first time, everything snapping sharply and sickly into focus.

If Jackie’s dying, it’s her fault.

Her fault. Her knife. Her best friend.

She did this.

Shauna stands on numb legs, dimly wondering if Jackie won’t end up being the only one to throw up tonight.

Goddamn it, Natalie. They had a plan. They had a fucking plan. What is she supposed to do now? Go back to sitting on her ass and waiting around for Thanksgiving? No, no, because then she’d be the dick, and Jackie would be… again, it’s unthinkable. Girls don’t just roll over and die quietly in the night.

Shauna can’t grasp it, and so she doesn’t.

Instead, she reaches for her bag. Rips open the zipper, sweeps all the crap into it that she can. Wallet, lecture notes, textbook, textbook, textbook.

She wonders how far a cab could take her. She wonders if the buses are still up and running. She—

—wakes up warm.

Somehow, her body’s been turned to jelly. Her muscles are pleasantly limp, her spine slack where it molds into the mattress. She absorbs the unfamiliar ceiling through a drowsy sort of bliss, blinking slow, stingy-dry eyes at it, unwilling to move.

This has to be one of the best night sleeps she’s had in — well, ever. She feels good. Really good. Full-blown Valium haze (minus the fiery screaming) good. 

Above her, Jackie’s snoring, purring noises so soft, they might not even exist. She’s clearly made herself comfy, bundled up small in the welcome cradle of Shauna’s chest. Eyes shut, breathing peacefully, all smooshed little cheek and unfairly angelic bedhead.

Her hair’s that specific sort of artfully messy only achievable by a blood sacrifice, unrelenting honey brown spanning beautifully along her upper back, despite their hours of cuddling. Honey brown, like burned sunlight, like a heated dock, reminding her vaguely of summer and the ache that sometimes appears in her chest after too much laughter.

Or like the color. Jesus.

Shauna quickly blinks away whatever morning fog is making her imagine it’s okay to start thinking of Jackie’s hair as the embodiment of human joy.

She reaches for a strand unthinkingly, working off some kind of forgotten, muscle memory, as she curls it around one finger. Gentle, careful, slow. With the way they’re slotted together, it’s easy to do. She only needs to lift her hand just slightly to have access to Jackie, something that’s butterfly-inducing after so much separation. It’s salvation, the boat sliding into the harbor, the plane safely meeting land. She’s not quite sure she can go without touching her ever again.

Probably, that’s alright. Probably, Jackie needs to be touched. Not just in bed, though that certainly is a factor — every movement Jackie made last night was wanting, wanton, needy, seeming to contain a silent please never take your hands off me.

What it’s really about for Shauna is memorization. She used to know Jackie down to every freckle, tick, and flaw, and now the shape of her is maddeningly unfamiliar, needing to be mapped out all over again.

Her face is thinner. Her arms are thinner. Her legs are thinner. She’s a different girl, stretched across bone, pit-like circles below formally bright eyes. Even her hair’s brittle, stringy as straw, despite the pretty color.

It’s disquieting. The clear signs of starvation — like tendrils of the wilderness, still wrapped around — but also the not knowing. Shauna would’ve coped better with forgetting her ABCs.

Nat was right. Jackie is dying.

A bonus? Shauna’s the fucked-up asshole who’s been degrading the waiting corpse. 

Up until yesterday, Shauna liked to think life’s great, moral pendulum was at least deciding where to sway with her, but now she’s pretty sure it’s settled. She’s so going to hell.

Jackie’s snoring stops suddenly.

Shauna holds her breath. She has a plan for the day, now that she’s settled and no longer reeking of bus. Sex, breakfast, sex, lunch, sex, dinner, studying, and more sex. The hard part’s getting Jackie to run with it. 

She’s stirring gradually, the gentle weight on top of Shauna beginning to shift and groan. “Mmm. What time is it?”

“Not sure.” Shauna whispers in what she hopes is her softest tone, not wanting to startle her.

Of course, it startles Jackie anyway. She jerks her head up so fast, Shauna’s sure she’d forgotten where she was. Confused, bleary eyes squint.

“Shauna?”

”Right here.” Shauna soothes, transitioning into stroking Jackie’s hair. She cards each of her fingers through the way she knows Jackie likes, nice and heavy.

Jackie relaxes at the contact, sinking back into her with a sigh. “I thought I dreamt you.”

The confession slips out right like that, unguarded, sleep-soft, shamelessly intimate.

It makes Shauna’s heart ache. It makes her whole body hurt.

She never would’ve been so mean, if she’d known she was speaking to this Jackie. That’s the story, and she’ll stick with it. Maybe that’s the only way to keep the pendulum swinging. Not being a bad person but an uninformed one.

“You didn’t.” She swallows, massaging Jackie’s scalp. “How’d you sleep?”

Jackie takes a moment to answer, distracted by the touch. Absorbed by it. Her eyes lull in contentment, drooping shut as she murmurs, “good. What about you?”

Infuriatingly well.

”Good.”

”That’s good.” Jackie repeats quietly, paying no mind to the repeating adjective. It’s not Brown, where people mind their words obsessively. Shauna doesn’t think it really matters what they say right now. Just that they’re both here, lazy, lounging, basking in the company.

”Good.” She repeats back, and it is.

The morning light’s doing its job, illuminating the shadows that had cut too severely across Jackie’s face last night, making her look startlingly sharp and gaunt in flashes. Pointy hipbones, angular shoulder blades, flashing, flashing, like the edge of a knife glinting, glinting. That gaunt look still lingers eerily, but there’s more to notice now. Perfect, upturned nose, the world’s envy. Endearingly toothy smile, endearingly big eyes. Happy creases around the edges of them as she stretches and yawns — huge, loud, exaggerated. Complete drama queen.

Tired of waiting, Shauna leans in to kiss her. She’s only able to steal a peck before Jackie’s leaning away from her, drifting just out reach. 

“Morning breath.” Jackie explains, her cheeks a shy pink, one hand laid delicately on Shauna’s chest to hold her at bay. Shauna rolls her eyes, smiling. She should’ve figured.

“I’ll kiss somewhere else, then.” She teases, easily re-directing her lips. They find the square line of Jackie’s jaw, the marks on her throat, her pulse.

Jackie lets out a soft moan. “Nice solution.”

Shauna hums, indulging herself a little as she laps over a purple-pink bruise, not sucking or biting this time, simply tasting the abused skin.

”I kinda mauled you last night.” She admits, while nosing at her. “Sorry.”

Kinda is an understatement. There’s kinda more hickeys than throat.

”D-Don’t be. I liked it.” Jackie shivers in time with her pulse, twitching beneath Shauna’s slow, seeking tongue. Her hands shift to Shauna’s shoulders and anchor there. “Plus, I have great concealer.”

”Good. Very, very good.” She says between open-mouthed kisses, leading a wet trail up to Jackie’s earlobe, where she nips lightly. “Because I want to leave more.”

She feels Jackie nod, as pliant in her hands as she was when she was asleep. ”Okay, yeah. Do that.”

Shauna certainly doesn’t have to be asked twice. Pleased with the permission, she goes right ahead and finds an unmarked patch to latch onto, drawing the skin between her teeth possessively. Jackie moans in assent, pushy hands urging Shauna closer. Shauna keeps at it, kissing lower, down her throat, collarbones, chest, eventually tasting cotton. Her lips search for Jackie’s breasts through the shirt and mouth blindly, until she’s got a clothed nipple rolling against her tongue. Fabric does nothing to hide the way it’s pebbled up, stiff as lead.

”Are you always this horny in the mornings?” Shauna asks, half-teasing, half-curious. “Or is it just me?”

”Play nice.” Jackie warns in her breathy, girlish voice, which only makes Shauna want to do the opposite. God, help her.

”Answer.” Shauna insists, with a thread of a demand in it. She sucks hard on the small bud to add incentive, damp fabric clumped up in her mouth.

Jackie gasps. ”It’s you.”

They don’t stick to just kissing for very long.

Shauna takes her right there, slow and artless in the sun-soaked sheets, one hand winding down to get trapped in the snug press of them. Jackie’s still not wearing pants, everything below her waist bare and delightfully open to Shauna. She gasps as soon as Shauna finds her slit, already slippery. The angle’s cramped, but Shauna’s nothing if not determined, working and working and working until there’s slick dripping long lines down her wrist. Jackie stretches so beautifully for her, puffy pink speared around unrelenting fingers. She shakes. Throbs. So obvious about it, her body curled into a furl of hitching cries. Head dropped forward, nails biting Shauna’s arms, hips rocking in small, uncontrollable thrusts. Intense, like the last time. Life-changing, like the last time.

“Come on, Jack. Sweetie.” Shauna urges, wringing a torn-out sob from Jackie’s lips. “I know you wanna come for me.”

”I do! Oh, oh, I do!” Jackie practically weeps.

She quivers through her climax, trembling from the inside and out, clinging to the lifeboat of Shauna’s shoulders. Her cunt squeezes and squeezes for nearly a minute without end.

“There you go.” Shauna whispers encouragingly, intent on helping ease her through it. She turns and presses kisses along Jackie’s hair as she comes down from her high, wild breaths evening out to boneless pants. Spent body slumping on top of Shauna, all exhaustion and meager, dead weight. “Still feel like I shot you?”

”Yes.” Jackie exhales raggedly. Red, rumpled, the picture of perfection. Her heaving chest tickling Shauna’s bare one. “God. How do you do that?”

Guilt threatens to worm into Shauna’s gut. She doubts Jackie’s blissful attitude will stick around once she shares how she’s been spending her free time. Shauna can almost hear it now. Really couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you, Shipman?

Concentrating on gently sliding out her fingers, she pushes the thought away. Plies Jackie with another kiss, forces some effort into her smile. ”It’s only easy cause you are.”

”Shut up.” Jackie groans, endearingly embarrassed. Her blushing face burrows right into the crook of Shauna’s neck, out of sight.

”I like it, for the record.” Shauna reassures the side of her head, grinning genuinely. “Makes my job a whole lot easier.”

With the noise Jackie makes, you’d think she stabbed herself. ”Oh my god, Shipman! Stop talking.”

Shauna laughs. “Fine, dodge the truth.”

“You’re the worst.”

”And you’re—“

”Easy, I know. I get it. Those things on my head are ears.” Jackie interrupts, making Shauna’s grin widen, pushed privately against Jackie’s skull.

”Just checking.” Shauna sighs. Refraining from teasing any longer, she sets her dirty hand aside, letting it hang limply off the edge of the bed while her clean one roams. It travels down the curve of Jackie’s back, which is still burning fever hot enough to be slightly damp, the sweaty fabric sticking everywhere she brushes. She strokes over each notch on Jackie’s spine slowly and tries not to think about this being the first time she can count every one there.

”Ass.” Jackie grumbles in weak, muffled irritation.

For a while, they do nothing more than that. Sit, breathe, share the same air. Intimacy’s always been something that hangs quietly and comfortably between them, a favorite flannel, well-worn.

Shauna almost convinces herself that Jackie’s fallen back asleep, but then the head beside hers shifts, warm lips touching her neck. Lips, then a tongue.

”What are you doing?” She asks.

Jackie goes still for a second. Shauna physically feels her re-stacking each tiny building block of confidence, assembling the fragile house of cards, before finally nudging closer, unexpectedly bold.

“What does it look like?” The tongue returns, less shy. Though Jackie may be inexperienced at a lot of things, kissing isn’t one of them. You don’t go four years solely making out to not develop some skill at it, and fuck, is Jackie skilled at it.

She kisses a trail down Shauna’s throat to her chest with pure, captain-like efficiency, no question about her mouth’s destination. Her tongue comes hot and swirling around one nipple, lapping clumsily but sure.

Jesus fucking Christ. Shauna’s sharp moan catches her entirely off guard. She can’t quite clamp her jaw shut in time — has lost the ability to hang up the phone. 

Both her hands twist the sheets, immediately white-knuckling. Jackie is messy about it, in an overexcitable way that has Shauna’s blood racing. She’s unimaginably wet, has been since they started, and nothing Jackie’s doing is going to put an end to it. If anything, the problem’s only worsening, her neglected body aching, nipples, cunt, and mouth so sore she could cry. She’s beginning to forget why she’s even calling this a problem in the first place. Having Jackie in bed with her is the sweetest wet dream.

After last night, Shauna thinks that if she were to take Jackie’s head and push it down between her legs, Jackie wouldn’t protest. Wouldn’t say a word other than yes or please or thank you. She’d let Shauna paint her face even filthier than it is right now, gleaming with slick instead of sweat. Then, they’d never leave the room.

Shit. They’d never leave the room. 

”Okay, okay, wait.” Shauna quickly grabs her hips, using two hands to cease anymore movement. “Let’s slow down.”

Jackie pulls away with a bit of a wet pop, shiny lips forming a confused little frown. ”What’s wrong?”

The concern’s new, nice. Not anything she’s used to getting from strangers, and certainly nothing she ever got from Jeff. (Although, to be fair, she and Jeff didn’t really talk, aside from his occasional it’s so hot when you’re on top and her occasional shut up or we’re stopping.) 

”Nothing.” She scrambles for an excuse. “Just, you know, you don’t have to.”

”Chivalrous, Shipman, but I want to.” Jackie flirts bemusedly, leaning in again. It kills Shauna to dodge her.

Their heads skim right by, the ball missing the net. No goal. Inwardly, Shauna is cringing. ”Will you want to after breakfast?”

”Breakfast?” Jackie sort of says it like it’s a foreign word, like they were genuinely going to stay in here all day with zero mention of a meal. “Now?”

Now, while they’re both undressed, wanting, and pretty much already halfway there. Now? Shauna’s even questioning it a little herself.

Painfully, she nods. “I didn’t eat dinner yesterday.”

It’s not a lie. That’s something.

(At least she’s not adding to the toppling pile of things to spill over breakfast. I slept with multiple women who aren’t you, I lied what we have is so a gay thing, and most importantly, I’m not here for fun, I’m here because Nat called and you’re sick and I love you. I love you. It’s maddening, I don’t know how to stop. Have you ever seen a moth be zapped to death by the very same light it’s chasing after?)

“Okay.” Jackie replies, not unkind — more dejected, more hurt. “Breakfast it is.”

Shit. Again.

The temperature of everything changes as they pull apart from each other, rolling off of opposite sides of the bed. The air inside suddenly not only warm but thick and strained. Shauna’s every bit the bull in the china shop, helplessly stomping on what’s frail. Her feet and hands are a lot alike that way.

Sometimes she forgets how she can be and how delicate Jackie can be by contrast. Most people‘s view of Jackie is false. They see the blondish hair, the pretty face, and the winning smile and think she must be this perfectly put-together princess, when really her throne’s miles from structurally sound. One small push and it all comes down.

Shauna would call it vapid and shallow if she wasn’t watching the effects of that insecurity take hold.

”Jackie—“ She tries to say, but Jackie spins on her heel, hastily facing the dresser.

”I can’t talk to you, you’re naked.”

“Seriously?” Shauna asks, raising her brows. She only covers herself for courtesy’s sake. ”I’ve been naked all morning.”

”Yeah, but I couldn’t see you.” Jackie roots through the drawers, the tips of her ears bright red. “And if we’re not going to have sex, I—“

”Can’t help yourself?” Shauna interjects this time and gets a change of clothes thrown at her.

”Shush, put your boobs away.”

Shauna rolls her eyes but starts doing just that. Jackie’s given her a pair of too tight jeans and a hoodie, which looks almost brand new, the Rutgers logo on it unmarred. Big and obvious across the front.

She hesitates at seeing it, holding it out in front of her. “Hey, uh. You don’t have another one?”

Jackie’s still got her back turned. ”Since when are you a fashionista? Put it on. You look nice in red.”

Sure you don’t mean RU scarlet?

Shauna quiets the snark in her head. She knows what this is — Jackie’s far from subtle — she just doesn’t want to make it into an argument, when it doesn’t have to be. If this is the worst thing that happens all morning, she’ll be lucky.

“Alright, boobs away.” Shauna announces, reaching for Jackie, once she’s dressed. Grabbing Jackie’s shoulder to turn her around, she puts one finger beneath Jackie’s petulantly lowered chin and lifts, forcing it upwards. “You know it’s not about you, right? I really am hungry. I honestly think I ate better in the wilderness.”

Jackie avoids eye contact, despite the joke, standing there in her giant, pajama shirt, tapping her finger against a hipbone Shauna knows is jutting. New nervous tick.

”I still can’t believe you ate Lottie’s freaky, masochistic bear.” She relents, after a moment, with a light shove to Shauna’s shoulder. “You could’ve gotten rabies.”

Shauna smiles, relieved, and leans close to peck her on the nose. My drama queen, princess, sun. Kissing Jackie, she feels every vibrant metaphor burst and bloom inside. She’s becoming a stupid idiot. A total goner.

”Luckily, I’m not rabid yet.”

”Yeah? My neck says otherwise.” Jackie brings a hand up to her throat, rubbing it tentatively. “It’s like you’re marking your territory.”

Shauna holds her eye. Shrugs one shoulder. ”Maybe I am.” 

Jackie goes pleasantly pink, the hand on Shauna’s shoulder playing coquettishly with the collar there. “Maybe you should do it more.”

Oh, she’s stalling. Stalling and stalling very well.

”Jackie. Breakfast.” Shauna reminds her. One more minute of standing underneath those pretty, batting lashes, and she’ll melt completely.

Fortunately, Jackie listens, stepping away to dress and grumble. “Fine.”

While she’s busy getting ready, Shauna does a short sweep of the room, picking the used tissues off the floor and tossing them in the trash. Next there’s the pillows, sheets, and clothes to tackle. She finds her discarded outfit sitting in a strewn-out pile and folds everything but the flannel, which she decides to take with her, struck by an idea at the last minute.

”Here, wear this.” Stepping up behind her, she drapes it carefully over Jackie, big, comfy fabric enveloping her small frame. “I don’t want you getting cold.”

As Jackie grins, Shauna’s heart pulses. Zaps.

Notes:

Thank you for all the comments and support! I truly appreciate every one of them

Chapter 11

As they make their way outside the building, Jackie finds it near impossible to dislodge the gnawing pit of dread from inside her stomach.

They were doing so well minutes ago — kissing, laughing, filthily fucking like two wild rabbits, the whole shebang — and then, boom, breakfast, not only slamming the brakes on their alone time (confusingly abruptly), but providing further proof that food does, in fact, ruin everything.

Currently, it’s ruining what would’ve otherwise been a slow, easy, Sunday morning, likely spent in bed. She peers around miserably. No classes, very few students milling about, the air quiet, and campus still. Nothing and no one around to hear all the things they could be doing to each other inside her dorm room right now.

And yet.

Breakfast.

She’s decided she’s not going to be weird about the whole thing. It’s not about you. I really am hungry, Shauna insisted upstairs, with a softness that honestly eased Jackie. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that Shauna wanted to bail as soon as Jackie attempted to touch her back. Maybe she genuinely did just want food. Jackie knows other people need to eat regularly, even if the same principle doesn’t apply to her. Plus, Shauna skipped dinner last night, and it’s nearing noon now, and they haven’t exactly been abstaining from physical activity. The dots connect. The body needs fuel to move or whatever, all that exercise mumbo jumbo Coach Martinez used to push.

(Each meal a tank, fill it with the best rank. Nourish your body, fuel your life. Let food be thy medicine. Nothing phrases from a middle-aged, high school teacher without a clue, like you possess something no one else on this team has.)

(Sure, buddy.)

(…and, as always, R.I.P.)

“So, where are we going?” Shauna asks, both hands plunged in the front pocket of the hoodie Jackie let her borrow.

It looks soft. It is soft. Jackie wants to touch it and then her.

Rutgers scarlet suits her, genuinely. School bias aside, the bright color’s a pleasant contrast to her skin, which is slightly paler now, presumably from spending more free time inside. Jackie doesn’t even need to close her eyes to imagine Shauna haunting the libraries at Brown. Sexy, loner vampire style.

The jeans she gave her are admittedly a couple sizes too small. On Jackie, they usually end up hanging a bit loose everywhere, but on Shauna, they’re snug, which also means horribly, wonderfully distracting, the curves of her hips and thighs hugged well beneath the clinging denim. Jackie’s mom would probably have something suitably backhanded to say about it, if she were here, but she’s not, and the only thought swimming in her daughter’s head is how strong those damn legs look. It might’ve been long enough for the soccer tan to wear out, but the soccer muscle certainly hasn’t.

She can’t help the full-on staring she’s doing, mentally salivating over what’s to come. She thinks she should be forgiven, given the circumstances. Her best-friend-and-favorite-wet-dream arrived, practically gift-wrapped, on her doorstep last night. How can anyone be expected to concentrate under those conditions?

And when can she have Shauna’s tongue back in her mouth?

“I don’t know.” Jackie mumbles finally, a tad hoarse. She clears her throat and forces her stare up. The knowingness she immediately finds in Shauna’s gaze paints her cheeks with the faintest, prickling blush. “What are you in the mood for?”

Shauna shrugs, not looking away from her eyes. “Can’t go wrong with eggs and coffee, I guess.”

Can’t go wrong with doggystyle and some handcuffs either but—

“Okay.” Jackie nods primly, clapping her hands together. “I think I know a place. Nat said there’s a diner nearby where the waiter looks like Randy.”

”Every mediocre, white guy in America looks like Randy.”

”Yeah, but apparently this one’s got his ears.”

They have to stroll off campus and through town to get there. The walk is spent gossiping about their respective peers, pretending whatever dumbass got a frat-house-toilet-seat UTI or crashed their dad’s Lamborghini recently is more interesting than the electric little not-handholding dance they’re doing, their knuckles swinging and brushing coyly between them.

”Okay, but three pounds of coke? Who smuggles in three pounds to Orientation?” Jackie exclaims. The mental image Shauna’s building here is distressing. “And how do you even fit that much up there?”

”Well, it stretches...” Shauna says meaningfully.

“That much? What, does she have the King Kong of vaginas?”

Shauna barks out a laugh, sharp and clear and marvelous. “I don’t know, Jackie. It’s probably just a story people tell to gross out freshmen.”

”Mission accomplished. Ugh.” Jackie gives an exaggerated shiver of disgust, wrinkling her nose, shaking her shoulders, really playing it up. She delights in hearing Shauna’s laughter continue warmly beside her.

”Come on, it’s probably not the worst thing someone’s put inside themselves.” Shauna grins slyly, adding, “Jeff exists.”

That one gets them both. Unable to help it, they snicker their way down the sidewalk, dissolving into familiar giggling fits.

With the sunlight warm on their arms, backs, and nearly-joined fingers, it feels like any other day, like they could be flooding right out of the locker room with a movie and a sleepover on the horizon.

“How does that even work anyway?” Jackie’s still sufficiently grossed out about it. “Do they just, like… yank it out of her tampon-style?”

”Ew, Jax.” Shauna shoves her side. “Stop picturing it.”

”I can’t, you already put the seed there—“

”Don’t say I put the seed anywhere.”

”Shh, perv. You know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. “You and Nat are so much alike. Both of you need to get your head out of the gutter.”

Shauna’s mouth does something strange, not quite a frown but near it. “Have you two been spending a lot of time together lately?”

“I don’t know. I spent the day with her yesterday.” Tilting her head, Jackie inspects Shauna’s change in expression. “Why? You jealous?”

”No.” Shauna answers, but it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that she finally reaches out to make contact, lifting her hand to the small of Jackie’s back, where it sits, seemingly unassuming and friendly. “Just curious. What’d you guys do?”

”Um.” Jackie blanks.

She can feel the weight of Shauna’s hand pressing through her shirt. Can feel the warmth. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s nothing but a small touch. Innocent, insignificant. To Jackie, it’s everything. A sign of affection, a claim, a brush of fingertips that’s doing its best to steal her breath.

”Not much. I was kind of hungover, so a morning stroll wasn’t in the cards. We mostly just hung out around my room. Nat had extra party favors. Not the ‘smuggled in your ass’ kind but...”

”She got you high out of your mind?” Shauna guesses.

”Mhm.” Jackie nods in affirmation.

“Sounds like Nat.” Shauna’s thumb strokes a dizzying strip along her spine. “You remember when she got us all stoned at Carter Finnigan’s and then we bailed to chow through half the Taco Bell?”

Yeah, Jackie remembers. The party, the smoke, the apple bong… the morning bloat and the guilt over downing two Beef Gordita Supremes in front of every single one of her teammates.

”Uh-huh. That was a good night.” She looks forward and is relieved to see the diner isn’t too far off, only half a block ahead. “Look, it’s just up here.”

Brew Haven looks classy enough from the outside with brick walls, a polished, wooden sign and big, wide open windows, which display multiple happy customers. The red and pink flowerbeds set near the entrance really help tie the place together, making it appear not only inviting, but romantic. Kudos to Nat.

Shauna pulls open the door for her, and Jackie tries not to swoon at the little show of chivalry as she slips inside.

It really does feel like they’re on a date.

”How can I help you ladies today?”

And holy shit, that waiter does have Randy’s ears. How unfortunate.

They grab a table near the windows, where the light still trickles in finely, sitting opposite to each other. Randy Ears guides them through the specials quickly enough before leaving them to their customary waters and menus. 

“I told you. Nat was right.” Jackie says, once he’s out of earshot. (No pun intended.)

She’s silently glad for the way he’s placed them away from the other customers. It’s no dorm room, but it does feel somewhat private. Just her and Shauna and Shauna’s lips and Shauna’s eyes and Shauna’s unfairly sexy voice and hands and everything, really.

“It is kind of uncanny.” Shauna agrees, picking up a menu. “You think they’ve got good coffee?”

“No coffee is good coffee.”

Shauna rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Some of us like something stronger than cream and sugar in a cup.”

”Well, some of us have actual tastebuds.”

”Yeah, tastebuds that are seriously questionable.”

“Ass.” Jackie attempts to kick her below the table, but Shauna traps one leg with two of her own, sandwiching Jackie’s foot between her ankles.

“Too slow.” Shauna brags with a smugness that gets Jackie unexpectedly hot all over.

Jesus, she’s genuinely horny just from their ankles touching. Welcome to rock bottom. Next she’ll be asking to leer at Shauna’s calves… which are also strangely nice, as far as calves go.

“Are you five?” She squirms a bit but Shauna holds tight, the same way she used to when they were actually that age. “Let go.”

Instead, Shauna pulls a move she never would have in kindergarten, beginning to slide her foot up along the line of Jackie’s caught leg. There’s something thrilling about the subtle caress. Maybe the secrecy of it — nearly twenty people in this diner, and no one knows it’s happening but them. Maybe just the feel. When it comes to Shauna, every slight touch means another wildfire.

Shauna’s foot continues its teasing ascent, following the path upwards. Jackie puts effort into staying still. She’s already finding it increasingly hard to keep looking at Shauna or anyone, for that matter, as the tickle creeps up to her knees. Right now, they’re shut, closed.

Shauna taps once. They jump open instinctively.

Jackie’s sure she’s not imagining the sadistic little smile on Shauna’s mouth, pointed downwards at the menu, as if what’s on it is actually important. (As if Jackie’s going to eat it at all.)

She steals a small glance over to the other customers, who remain unbothered, quietly invested in their meals. No one’s paying them any mind, but her chest and cunt flutters at the thought that they could, that they’d quickly find out she’s the kind of girl who spreads her legs in public just because her girlfriend asked her to.

(Okay, fine, maybe not girlfriend, but she thinks best friend whom I have sex with and have been in love with for potentially an eternity is too wordy. Sue her.)

Shauna inches up and up, the blunt head of her shoe nudging Jackie’s thighs further apart until it’s almost resting against her clothed center. Jackie applauds herself for not moaning aloud. Why are they here? Why did they ever, ever leave the room?

Up and up and up. Her panties are starting to stick, growing uncomfortably warm and slick. If Shauna goes any higher, if Jackie tips just a little closer, then she’ll be—

“What do you think you’re getting?” All of a sudden, Shauna’s foot is gone, and Shauna is flipping over the menu in her hands casually, the picture of nonchalance.

Jackie splutters. “You…”

”I…?” Shauna questions evilly. “Something wrong?”

Yes.

Yes, you’re supposed to touch me. I’m supposed to touch you. The outside world isn’t supposed to exist.

Her mom once said all lesbians — actually, scratch that. Lesbians wasn’t the word used. It was those people with a twist of distaste to her mouth, though Jackie’s not an idiot. She could read the dirty queers written behind the seam of her lips.

Those people don’t know how to control themselves.

And apparently, Jackie doesn’t.

She’d let Shauna have her anywhere, even here, even right now. Even if the world ended, and the building came down, she would die happy, having sex in the rubble.

Last night was heaven. So was this morning. Cliche as it sounds, that’s the truth. It was as if Shauna reached inside her and dragged every drop of lust in her body front and center. Sex before twenty four hours ago wasn’t even sex. It was skin on skin and bodies colliding with minimal connection or pleasure. Nothing close to their intimacy, their inner rhythm, their bond. She never knew another person could feel that good.

She wants it all back so badly she can’t breathe — but Shauna wants breakfast, and it’d be barbaric to let her starve.

“No.” Jackie mutters at her own menu, which she’s finally forced to shift attention to, skimming her fingers over it glumly.

Fine, they’re doing this.

Best not to overthink. Eggs are always a good option. Low calorie, high protein, and normal enough that no one would bat an eye over her order. But a diner like this is likely to cook them in vats of oil, and Jackie isn’t sure she’ll be able to manage a bite if her plate comes over dripping with the stuff. So, that leaves the non-egg dishes, aka the greasy meats and the carbs. God knows she’s not going for the pancakes (buttery, fried, slathered in whip cream) or the French toast (equally buttery, fried, and slathered in whip cream), and she can’t let a single syrup-soaked waffle anywhere near her. No matter what anyone else says, a piece of sugary bread doesn’t count as a meal. And who the fuck fries a waffle? The bacon is another quick no. The sausage comes in serving sizes too large. The ham is coated in an inedible, brown sugar glaze because apparently everyone just adores piling calories endlessly onto everything. Yay, heaps and heaps of fat and lard. Super fucking appetizing.

Can any of this even go in her mouth?

“You know what?” She says, aiming for light and breezy. “I think I’ll just get coffee. I can try out whatever awful concoction you’re drinking.”

The awful concoction Shauna typically drinks is regular black coffee. Sometimes with a packet of sugar, if she’s feeling adventurous, and Jackie’s not. She’ll stick to her terrible, low calorie cup of Joe, thank you very much. 

Shauna shoots her a skeptical look. “You’ll hate what I’m ordering.”

Jackie shrugs. “Maybe I’m developing more mature tastes.”

She is an adult, after all. It could be time to learn to enjoy that sludge people lug around in their mugs. Especially if said sludge helps kill her hunger pains.

”You should get an appetizer, at least.” Shauna suggests, slowing briefly to try for the right words. “We’re not exactly going to be resting later.”

Jackie doesn’t know whether to laugh or bend over the table.

“Are you seriously telling me you’re gonna rock my world so hard I need to fuel up first?” She decides on laughter, but she can’t lie. There’s something undeniably sexy about the idea, even though it is another reminder of Coach Martinez’s nutritional speeches. Shauna powering through a meal, then using that full strength to fuck her into the mattress powerfully, the way only a varsity athlete could.

”I’m serious.”

“I’m serious.” Jackie repeats. “Watch out for Shauna Shipman the Great and Powerful Stallion.”

”About the food.” Shauna stresses, looking slightly bashful, but mostly brushing past her antics.

The swiftness of her answer gives Jackie pause. Why is it so important? Why push on this?

“I’m okay.” She says.

”Really? Cause I’m paying.”

Bashful and persistent.

”I said I’m okay.” Jackie replies, clearing her throat when the response comes out sharper than she means it to. The downward twitch of Shauna’s mouth is almost imperceptible but definitely there. Shoot. If it weren’t for the waiter returning to question them about their orders, she’d have to address it. “Just a black coffee for me, thanks.”

Randy Ears shifts attentively to Shauna, notepad and pen poised in hand. “And you?”

Shauna stalls, as if distracted. It takes her a few seconds to pry her strange stare away from Jackie. “Uh, I’ll have the same. And a stack of blueberry pancakes.”

Blueberry pancakes. If nothing else mattered, that’s what Jackie would have ordered. It’s going to be hell watching Shauna get to eat it. This might as well be nicknamed the Morning of Pure Temptation.

Temptation Morning? Whatever, it’s all torturous.

“Good choice.” Jackie tosses out, just to fill the silence before the not-eating elephant swells.

“Yeah.” Shauna replies, absentmindedly tracing a circle into the surface of the table. Then, abruptly: “Do you think Nat would sell me anything?”

Jackie thinks about Nat hauling her home from the party, unthinkingly generous, plying her with drugs and blissed-out ramblings. “Yeah, probably. Why?”

Nat is kind of a saint… wow, is that not something she would have said in high school. At least one thing actually improved in college.

“I was just thinking, it could be fun for us to do something less destructive than shrooms.”

Thoughtlessly, Jackie responds. “Us? You. I’m not the one who went totally bonkers.”

Shauna’s quick with her reply. ”Yeah, but I brought you a bowl, remember?”

Which she never ate. She’s catching onto the pattern here.

”I remember.” Jackie admits, feeling the same strangling sensation in her gut she got when Shauna first called her out on masturbating. Rabbit meet trap. “I also remember being phenomenally pissed at you that night. Pretty sure I threw it out, sorry. What type of syrup do you think the pancakes will—“

“You threw it out?” Shauna interrupts. “We had literally no food. Back then, I would’ve eaten from Satan’s asshole. No one was throwing out food.”

”Well — I guess I was a bit more than phenomenally pissed that night.”

”What’s a bit more than phenomenally pissed?”

”I don’t know, Shauna. Depressed? Devastated? Is this really pleasant date—“ Jackie stops short, stupid mouth fumbling. “Breakfast conversation? Why are you accusing me of things?”

She knows why. She knows. 

”I’m not accusing you.” Shauna lies, her tone edging on annoyance but only barely, leaning more impatient. “I’m just trying to understand.” 

”Understand what?”

There’s a high, strange buzzing in Jackie’s ears.

”Why you stopped eating.” Blunt, straightforward, to the point. She’s expecting it, but it strikes her hard anyways. “Because it kind of seems like the plan was to starve to death.”

Jackie balks. ”Jesus Christ, okay, no one starved to death or was going to starve to death. Can we reel the morbidity in, Shipman?”

”No.”

”No? You want to sit here and talk about death—“

”No, I want to sit here and talk about what’s going on with you.” Shauna stares unrelentingly at her. She’s not dropping this. Why isn’t she dropping this? 

Jackie bobs her knee, her hand diving beneath the table to feel its knobby end jab against her palm. That buzzing rises, louder and louder, echoing the beehive that begins to swarm in her head.

Buzz buzz, Shauna thinks you’re broken.

Buzz buzz, no wonder she won’t let you touch her.

Buzz buzz, way to be tragic and insecure a second go round.

She grips bone through her pant leg, treating it as a steadying anchor. ”Is this your idea of not accusing me?”

”Jackie.” Shauna says her name around a heavy sigh, faintly frustrated, as if Jackie is the one being unreasonable. Her hand crawls across the table, finding Jackie’s free one and touching its edges. “I’m just wondering if you’re okay, if I could help.”

Another server goes by, balancing a towering, double-decker stack of pancakes. Jackie grits her teeth against the cloying, sugary scent. She doesn’t need help. She needs to not be surrounded by the food… and the syrup… and the… holy fucking fuck, she could eat a horse.

”There’s nothing to help.” She rips her hand away.

Shauna looks down at the place where they were once joined with a frown that’s slowly upgrading to well and truly frustrated. Jackie pretends she doesn’t miss the warmth, as she settles it back in her lap. Shauna seems to be thinking hard on something.

”I lied to you earlier.” Shauna tells her, just like that. Right out of the blue, rapidly changing course, before Jackie can even think. “I lied about why I came. I didn’t just show up on a whim. Nat called, actually.”

Nat called?!

“What? Why?”

”She said I should be here for you. That you were sick, and if I really gave a shit I would help you with your — your eating thing or eating disorder or—“

“I’m sorry, what are you even saying right now?” Jackie cuts her off for once. She doesn’t have to sit around and hear this. She can’t. She won’t. “You’re telling me you and Nat came up with some little fantasy on the phone, and now it’s my problem? I don’t have an ‘eating disorder.’”

She feels herself making air quotes, the buzzing lifting to a crescendo, no sound in her ears but blaring anger and panic, panic, panic.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to eat psycho Lottie’s diseased, bear meat or Misty Quigley’s fucked up, date-rape stew, but I’m sure most normal people wouldn’t. We’re not all up to our arms in blood and guts.”

It’s underhanded, the blood and guts comment, but she needs it to be — needs the buzzing to stop, needs Shauna off the scent. 

It’s would be worth it, except it has absolutely no effect.

Somehow, Shauna remains miraculously, irritatingly composed, pushing ahead. “What about breakfast? You’re just having coffee? Or last night, what about dinner? I know the casserole was a lie.”

”No, it wasn’t.” Jackie lies (again), affronted. How can Shauna have her this on her toes?

”Yes, it was. Casserole is your go-to lie whenever you get upset and skip a meal.” Shauna returns, matter of fact. Deliberate, prepared. Abruptly, she gets it. Shauna planned for this. That’s how. While Jackie’s been fixated on her plan, Shauna’s been fastening one of her own. “So, you didn’t have dinner or breakfast, and Nat, who was hanging out with you the day before, said you still weren’t eating.”

The more Shauna speaks, the more Jackie’s stomach plummets, faster and faster and faster, reminding her of the plane swooping straight down. Fuck Nat. Seriously, fuck her. Never mind the friendship or the party or all the nice things they said to each other. She can go get plastered and die in a ditch somewhere and leave Jackie to her plate of air because she has no right to butt into this, no right to command Shauna to come here and declare Jackie must eat, as if that’s Nat’s choice, as if she’s the Queen of England — as if Jackie is going to let anyone but herself decide at all. Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.

”So what? I have a small stomach.” Jackie tries feebly, flushing further when Shauna gives her a look like really? This is what we’re doing? “Why are you making this such a huge issue?”

It is not a big deal to skip a meal or two! Or three. Or four.

What’s the problem?

Everyone else did it, and they were fine. Way better than fine, actually. Everyone else love, love, loved flaunting just how much better they were than her at starving, loved telling her how fucking weak she was. Well, screw them. Screw the team that doesn’t and didn’t want her.

She’s not going to be weak anymore, and she’s not going to be weak again, so they can kiss her ass.

Jackie grips her knee hard enough that her nails bite into skin, but it’s fine, she can take it, she’s not going to be weak or tragic or insecure or boring—

Why is Shauna staring?

(Can Shauna please stop staring?)

Does this have no end? It may only be minutes, but it feels as if they sit there for ages, Jackie concentrating on her lap while Shauna concentrates on her, waiting for an answer that’s sure as hell not coming. 

They’re still residing on the edges of the same frustrating stalemate when Randy Ears joins them again, blissfully unaware of their steely silence, balancing Shauna’s pancakes alongside two coffees. “Here you go!”

Jackie murmurs a thank you and takes a sip that tastes like death. Shauna mutters hers without even sparing him a glance. Her eyes are for Jackie. Only Jackie. Which isn’t new, but this is the first time it’s infuriating.

“Okay. You know what?” The moment he’s gone, Shauna is speaking again, making Jackie glance up warily. She watches Shauna unravel her utensils from the folded napkin, pour dreaded, melted butter and syrup over the teeming stack, sectioning off a sugary, drooling chunk before pushing the plate across. “If it’s not an issue, have a bite.”

Alright. Fuck Shauna, too.

”No.”

She feels close to yelling.

”Why not?”

”Like I said, I’m not hungry.”

”After days?”

”I don’t — whatever, god, I don’t need to prove myself to you.” Jackie sputters and spits like a cornered animal. “I mean, who do you even think you are? My therapist?”

”Your best friend.” Shauna answers, and Jackie distantly hears her mouth push out a mean, hysterical laugh. She might be possessed by something.

”Yeah? And you woke up just now and decided that means something to you? Suddenly you care ever so much about me—“

”I do care, of course I—“

“Oh, well, round of applause for Miss Friend of the Year over here. Sorry I forgot to thank you for fucking my boyfriend. Woo hoo.” She claps her hands loud enough to get Shauna’s jaw to tick, uncaring of the other customers, uncaring of anything. Her world is spinning and caving in. Her body is running hot and burning down every bridge that leads to a meal. “Next time you leave me outside to die I’ll bring you roses. I’ll show up with your very own parade.”

Jackie’s breathing heavy, half-panting into the silence she’s created. Ice cold, no different than their last screaming match.

Slowly, Shauna takes a deep inhale through her nose, every muscle clenched and still, like a viper coiled. For a moment, it seems as if she might actually jump out and strike back.

But then, she exhales, heavy, controlled. “You should probably see an actual therapist.”

”Screw this.” Jackie pushes away from the table.

Clearly, she’s not going to get a reaction out of Shauna. Clearly, there’s no point in sticking around, if it’s just to break apart in front of an audience.

“What?” Shauna asks incredulously, sitting up to grasp her wrist. Not roughly but firmly, snagging it quick enough to have Jackie reeling back from escape. “Where are you going?”

Where is she going? Does it matter? Anywhere but here.

She tries tugging her arm back, but it’s useless against Shauna’s impenetrable grip. When the hell did Shauna get so strong? It looks as if Shauna’s barely using any force to do it, her fingers clamped around almost loosely, and yet…

And yet, Jackie can’t break her hold. Can’t even budge it. Yet, that can’t be right because Jackie’s not weak. She hasn’t been eating, and not eating is what’s making her strong, not eating is what’s holding her together, she’s supposed to be put together, she’s supposed to be strong—

”Jackie, come on—“

“I should see a therapist? You think I’m the one who should see a therapist? Me?”

Shauna finally bristles. ”What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means stop talking to me like I’m Lottie because I’m not.” Since Jackie can’t step back, she steps in, leaning close enough to bring them head to head, the way they were that night in that cabin, except now she’s officially gone and made herself the queen bitch Shauna wanted. “I’m not sick, and I’m not crazy. I’m not the one who nearly killed Travis or the sadist who gets off on making girls cry. Maybe try looking inward before you start suggesting other people need a shrink.”

At the mention of Travis, Shauna’s eyes bulge wildly, her hold slipping. “Jesus Christ, be quiet.” 

”My bad, Shipman. I know how much you hate speaking up. I can bottle it up and fuck you over ten years down the line, if that works better for you.” Jackie marches off, yanking her wrist along with her.

Now, where to go?

The bathroom, apparently.

A good, reliable designated crying spot for teenage girls everywhere.

She shuts herself inside as quickly as humanly possible, scanning the stalls, incredibly relieved to find each one empty.

Staggering to the sinks, she twists the faucet and lets herself sag entirely inelegantly, her upper half lolling so her mouth can sit underneath the spray. Most of her left cheek gets soaked in the process, but it feels good, the cool water calming. Jackie splashes more and more onto her face.

Something must have crawled up her ass and died. If Shauna didn’t hate her before, surely she does now.

At least you didn’t eat anything.

Jackie rests a dripping hand against her stomach, massaging the barrier between her and emptiness. Yes, at least there’s that. 

She’s reaching to turn off the faucet, when the door gets all but kicked in, smacking the opposing wall hard. She knows instantly who it is. “Shauna—“

”Don’t talk. Listen.”

Jackie’s mouth drops closed.

“You don’t want me to talk to you like you’re Lottie? Fine, I won’t tell you you’re acting crazy even though you’re acting genuinely fucking crazy — but don’t walk around talking like I don’t care about you when I dropped everything to be here! When I left Brown for you! When I got onto a million shitty buses and a million shitty taxis for you! You think I don’t have shit to do? You think I don’t have a life I want to live? I do! But apparently none of it matters. Apparently, everything I have, everything I could ever want means nothing without you! I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, I can’t sit through a simple goddamn class now! So, you don’t get to tell me I don’t care, and you don’t get to just run off and die, Jackie. Too bad. Provoke me all you want, be annoying, hell, be completely insufferable if it really makes you happy because apparently I have absolutely no idea how to stop loving you!” Shauna stands panting from the vigor of her rant, with parted lips and a gaze so fiery and blazing it’s a marvel her eyes have also managed to get so wet and sad. “Come back to the table. Obviously, I’ll be waiting.”

On her way out, she slams the door and leaves it rattling.

Chapter 12

Notes:

CW: brief, passive suicidal ideation

Despite Shauna’s claim, she’s not at the table when Jackie arrives. Randy Ears is.

”I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I already spoke with your friend. If you’d...”

Disturbing the peace he says, which is admittedly pretty fair but also deeply mortifying. Jackie doesn’t know what she’s more angry about: their ridiculous argument or the fact that it got both her and Shauna kicked out of the restaurant. She speeds right out of there, lest her embarrassment eat her whole, muttering about a million apologies.

This would rank as one of the most humiliating moments of her life if the last year didn’t exist. She’s not the type of girl who gets booted from classy establishments. Not the type to start a commotion big enough. Usually, she prides herself on her easygoing exterior, the charm that melts hearts, the smile that opens doors rather than closes them.

Usually.

Whatever demon possessed her in there couldn’t have been Jackie. She wouldn’t yell like that. She wouldn’t be that mean. She can’t piece together what happened, even knowing it was barely five minutes ago. It was as if the plate between them became a battle line as soon as it was set down, and suddenly Shauna was nothing more than her enemy. Not her best friend, not the love of her life, just another person trying to force her to eat. 

She finds the other girl right outside waiting for her, smoking on the curb, hunched against the breeze with an odd-looking cigarette lit and a to-go box in her lap.

A to-go box? Seriously? They aren’t dropping the pancakes?

Frankly, Jackie is starting to miss their old routine. Bicker lightly with no bloodshed, then let the little spat they’re having eventually skew her way. She realizes that’s how they got here — everything always going her way — but her ideas were nice and normal and didn’t involve ambushing anyone with a misguided intervention.

Is this what she’s in for now? Intervention after intervention? Should she expect Nat to appear on her doorstep later today? What about Tai? Van? Lottie? Misty with a syringe full of oil to inject into her fruit?

She eyes Shauna’s back warily, tracing the broad plane of her shoulders, and willing herself to hate it. 

She’s so pissed.

Her body just doesn’t know it. It’s exhausted, empty, and sad, and it aches for Shauna the same way it does a warm bed. She wants to wrap arms around her from behind and bury herself in the comfort of her smell and skin.

Why’d you have to wreck it, Shipman?

This must be what Shauna feels like all the time, this startling mix of fury and love clawing relentlessly through her. It must be what she does whenever she gets all quiet. Recede into her head and try to untangle the confusing, mental web.

Jackie swallows, gathering her courage before stepping forward to join her. ”Those don’t look like Marlboros.” 

Shauna glances once at her. “That’s because they’re not. I hand rolled them.”

“You hand roll cigarettes now?”

“Evidently.” Shauna holds one out for Jackie to examine. The paper’s a different shade of white, and it feels slightly waxy against her fingertips.

”Do I get a light?” She asks.

“No.” Shauna reaches up and takes it back, ignoring Jackie’s indignation. “Nicotine kills the appetite.”

Jackie scoffs. “You’re still on this?”

“It’s the whole reason why I’m here.”

Smoke curls like a noose around them as Shauna continues to huff and puff moodily, tucking the unlit one back into the pack of non-Marlboros. 

Blowing out an annoyed breath, Jackie squints at her. “So, do you just lie all the time now or…?”

“Technically, I never lied. I said I wanted to see you, and I do.” Jackie pins her with a look of disbelief. If they start using the ‘technically’ excuse, they’ll never get anywhere. Shauna huffs more. “Don’t look at me like that, okay? I was up all night, and I didn’t want to start things with hi, Jax, let’s sit down and talk about your eating disorder.”

“I don’t have—“

”So, do you just lie all the time now or...?” Shauna cuts her off, speaking with the same lilt as Jackie just did. Jackie folds her arms, frowns, and says nothing. “That’s a genuine question. Do you think the way you acted in there wasn’t an issue?”

Now, she sputters. “How I acted? You slammed a door and got us kicked out.”

“No, you got us kicked out with your outburst. You started yelling at me first, and then you accused me of being a sadist and a murderer, which I’m not.” Shauna sucks angrily on the last bit of her cigarette, throwing the butt down and stomping it out. She’s speaking again before Jackie can formulate an apology. “And anyway, that’s not the point. Who got who kicked out doesn’t matter. What matters is you and your whole… thing.”

”There’s no thing!”

“Oh, come on. You think I don’t see it, Jackie? I do. I know you. I can gather something’s wrong when you can’t even stomach one bite of your favorite type of pancake.”

Jackie grips herself tighter, almost gritting her teeth. “I can stomach it.”

”Okay, then, by all means.” Shauna says briskly, nudging the box so it taps against Jackie’s foot. “I sure as hell didn’t buy it for myself.”

”Fine.”

”Fine.”

Irritated beyond belief, Jackie plants herself down right beside Shauna, who turns to watch her as she flips open the container and noisily unwraps the plastic utensils.

”Just one bite?” Jackie questions, spearing the chunk that Shauna had already cut.

Shauna nods. “And I’ll shut up about everything.”

Well doesn’t that sound nice? One bite, and this’ll be over, and they can return to her dorm, hopefully to do unspeakable things.

Because she’s not sick. Because everything is fine. She’s going to put the pancake into her mouth, taste the pooling syrup, and it’s going to be perfectly okay. She’ll allow the sugar to invade her pores, the fat to expand her waistline, the calories to sit heavy and then digest in her stomach. She’ll do it all, and she’ll do it this very second.

Or the next one.

In a minute.

Sometime soon. Definitely.

”Fuck.” Jackie drops the fork with a clatter, bringing her hands up to scrub at her face. She hears Shauna sigh, not pitying, but embarrassingly unsurprised.

“Look, Jackie…”

”No.”

Normal girls can eat a pancake. Why can’t she eat a pancake? Why is she acting like this?

Because you’re strong. 

But not enough to eat.

Because you know the rules.

But everyone thinks the rules are crazy.

Because you made a plan.

But the plan shriveled and died at Shauna arrival.

Because you can’t stop.

“Jackie? Are you talking to yourself?” Shauna asks, her fingers probing at Jackie’s arm, either trying to pull her closer or trying to break her from her mini spiral. “Hey, come here. Stop that. It’s okay.”

You can’t stop, can you? People like you don’t have control. Jackie can see the edges of it now, the thing everyone spotted before her, the illness festering in her marrow.

”It’s not okay.” She says to Shauna’s insistent hands. How can anything be okay when she’s too broken to realize she needs fixing? How is she supposed to fix what she can’t see? Shauna’s face blurs in her eyes, colors smearing, white, brown, scarlet, running together in a spill of liquid that chokes Jackie, her lungs rapidly losing air. “It’s not okay. Nothing’s okay.”

Abandoning all proprietary in an instant, Shauna cups the sides of her face. Gathers the hollowed cheeks in her hands and rubs her thumb over the first free-falling tear.

“Look at me.” Shauna commands, and not in the way she would in the bedroom, but in the way she would when they were little kids, and Jackie would near-hyperventilate over spilling ketchup on a dress her parents bought her. “It will be. I’ll help you.” 

She feels like every seam of her world is tearing. She feels like she’s crumbling, turning to stomped ash. She feels like—

“I feel like I’m breaking apart.” Jackie admits, the truth raw in her throat. Everything is raw with the bandaid ripped off.

Shauna grips her tighter. “I can hold you together.”

”You know I love you, too, right?” More than anyone, anything. Jackie sniffles, nuzzling her palm. “Can’t breathe, can’t sleep without you either.”

Appearing stricken, Shauna goes still. Her reaction makes Jackie wither slightly, flipping through ways she could take back her words. It seems the tears aren’t the only thing that wrongfully overflowed. She’s on her way to a panic rabbit hole when Shauna manually raises her head, two warm hands guiding her gently up into proper eye contact.

”Can I ask you something?” Shauna asks.

“You just did.”

”Jackie.”

”Fine, yes. Ask me.” Jackie reluctantly agrees, ignoring the small lick of heat in her gut that always accompanies Shauna’s manhandling.

Shauna’s expression shifts, and she scoots a little closer. Too close for being in public, certainly, but for a millisecond Jackie doesn’t care. Because in that perfect, breathless millisecond, it really seems as if Shauna will kiss her.

Except she doesn’t. 

Instead: ”Did you want breakfast to be a date?”

“Um.” Jackie responds. Is she too young to have a heart attack? “When I said that in there, I meant how you… you know how people have dinner dates? It was like — like a breakfast date. Like we were—”

“Jackie.”

She pouts. ”You can’t do that trick twice.”

”Okay.” Shauna concedes, smiling faintly. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

That answers the heart attack question.

Jackie just about stops breathing. “A real date?”

”Is there a different kind?” Shauna tilts her head, sounding mildly defensive — nervous. That’s how Jackie knows it’s really real.

This is actually happening.

The cement underneath her wobbles, the earth’s planes shift, and everything in her quakes with the undeniable urge to throw herself at Shauna. To get closer, to sew their skin together, to finally be whole.

“Take me home now.” She demands in a flurry. “I need to kiss you.”

Frustratingly, Shauna denies her. “You still need to eat.”

“Shauna.” Jackie all but whines, meaning screw that! Her body is currently being possessed by the spirit of a horny, frat boy. She better get to eat something, and it better not be served on a plate.

“Behave.” Shauna mutters, eyes dark, as if reading her thoughts. “Will you have something other than the pancake?”

 

 

*

 

After a bit more back and forth, Jackie agrees to protein bars. Two to be exact.

 

*

 

They basically treat the stretch of land between Brew Haven and Jackie’s dorm as a soccer field, rushing across it at top speed.

Something wild is untangling from Jackie’s insides — possibly this is what connecting with the wilderness feels like, she doesn’t know. They’re back on campus and then they’re stumbling up the steps of her dorm building and then they’re walking down the hall and then Shauna’s hot, firm front is plastered to her back while she fumbles with the keys. She gasps, sticking it through the lock just as Shauna ruts into her from behind, as if she wants to fuck through the clothing.

They’re lucky no one’s around. Though they’ve been up for hours, the world is still asleep around them, silent as they trip into the room and press against the closed door, kissing messily. No sound at all except their singular, shared breath and their wetly sliding lips.

”Okay.” Shauna pants. “Okay, let’s take a break, and we can—“

”Five more minutes.” Jackie requests, looping arms around her neck. Shauna bends to her plea easily, swaying back into her, pinning her with her mouth, teeth, and tongue, so forcefully Jackie’s whole body sings. She’s above cloud nine, above heaven.

Shauna loves her. Shauna wants to go on a date with her. Shauna loves her. Shauna wants to go on a date with her.

Shaunalovesher. Shaunawantstogoonadateiwithher.

Ohmygod.

“How long have you been — how long—“ Shauna struggles to get out between kisses. She doesn’t even need to ask for Jackie to know.

How long has Jackie been in love with Shauna? Since the day they met? Before that? An eternity? Forever?

”Dunno, long time. You?” She nips at Shauna’s plush bottom lip.

“At least Doomcoming.” Shauna bites back and much harder. “Seeing you with him...”

Distracted, Shauna trails off, nosing along Jackie’s chin, down to her jaw. Jackie’s quick to put her head back, tilting so that Shauna can have access to her bobbing throat. The bruises already there sting from the motion, a brutally pleasant reminder.

“That why you tried to kill him?”

”No idea — what — you — mean.” Shauna responds in stops and starts, on-and-off licking Jackie’s neck.

“Think it’s sexy.” Jackie breathes. (Someday, she probably will have to visit a therapist for the kinks she’s developing.) “You can be honest.”

Shauna’s tense for all of a moment before she’s moving against Jackie again, rocking slowly. 

“It did piss me off.” She admits, flitting through her murder fantasy (what else would Jackie call it?) as her hands explore Jackie’s sides, sliding down to cup and squeeze her ass. “I did sort of want to gut him. Suck you off of him after. It was the same thing with Jeff… so maybe not Doomcoming. Maybe when you started dating him.”

”I was dating Jeff for years, Shauna.”

”Trust me, I know.” Shauna mutters, fingers tightening, her voiced laced with a jealous edge Jackie swears she’s not imagining. 

“My god.” Jackie moans, practically throbbing at the enormity of the want between them, wondering just how long and how deep it runs. “Please fuck me.”

“You have three minutes.”

“I can come in that time. I’m a go-getter.”

Shauna snorts. “Sure, if you want to call yourself that.”

Jackie recognizes this lead-in from the phone. ”What else would you call me?”

“A whore.” Shauna says without reservation, moving her grip to Jackie’s waistband and yanking in the same instant, revealing her to the chilly, open air.

The whine that issues from Jackie’s mouth is truly debauched. She can’t help the buck of her hips or the overloud whimper. Flat against the door, cunt exposed, she’s everything Shauna says she is and happy to be.

Shauna helps work Jackie over that cliff for a second time today, rubbing mind-melting circles right where she wants them. True to her word, Jackie comes within the allotted three minutes, every bit of her clenching and shuddering before shifting into lolling and drooping, her head sagging onto Shauna’s shoulder like a marionette with the strings cut.

Nudging her upwards, Shauna points roaming eyes all over her face. “You okay? Wasn’t too much?”

”I’m fine.” Jackie assures, warmed by the sweetness, but also mildly exasperated by it. They’ve done this enough times that she’s obviously not going to be crying her eyes out over being called a whore, so she’s not sure why Shauna is... “Wait a second. Have you been holding out on me because you’re worried I’ll get upset or, I don’t know, pass out in bed?”

Shauna looks caught.

“Not ‘pass out,’ per se.” She says sheepishly, clearly doing her best to read Jackie’s face. “Get lightheaded.”

“Are you for real? I’m not an invalid.” 

“I get that.” Shauna’s face is weirdly serious. “Just, sometimes I worry I’ll go too far or something. Every time I touch you, I feel like I’m gonna break you.”

“What are you? The Hulk? Oh no, Shauna smash?” Jackie jokes, earning herself an eye roll.

The seriousness promptly slides away. ”Shut up. Eat your protein bars. I’ve got studying to do.”

So, Jackie goes and grabs two while Shauna unzips her ginormous bag, splaying pencils and books along the bed. Not sure where she wants to place herself, Jackie simply waits, hovering between it and the desk until her favorite spot clears up: Shauna’s lap. Shauna crawls onto the mattress and flips to sit against the pillows with her legs splayed, the textbook in her hands lifted to leave an open, inviting space. It’s a no brainer after that.

Curled up on Shauna’s warm thighs, she unwraps and pieces through both protein bars meticulously, relieved to glance up and see Shauna’s much more absorbed in studying than her.

Eating sort of takes the wind out of her horny sails a bit, the weight of the food intrusive in her stomach. She’s not sure how she’s supposed to do this. Get better when getting better feels the same as getting worse. Sure, the bars aren’t too bad, but she can’t imagine having anymore, which now feels startlingly depressing. Even Jackie knows that’s too little. She’d never feed Shauna two crummy protein bars and call it a day.

Okay, she’s formulating a new plan. She just has to try and love herself as much as she loves Shauna. If that’s even possible.

Ugh.

Maybe she’ll just throw herself off a cliff or something instead. That’d solve everything. No food, no stomach, no uphill battle.

But of course that’s a crazy thought.

She can’t throw herself off anything now, not when Shauna just admitted to being in love with her.

And they’re going on a date! Are they going to do that for the rest of their lives? Get engaged? Get married? Have two kids, a white picket fence, and a dog with a super cute name?

Somehow, she thinks not. Shauna would hate the suburbs, so no white picket fence — but Jackie’s unflinching on the married for the rest of their lives thing. And the dog. And the two little JackieShauna hybrids running around.

Yep.

Shauna, kids, dog. Perfection.

Growing bored and yet unwilling to move, Jackie simply closes her eyes. Shauna’s still studying, and she doesn’t think she’ll get much out of disturbing her so soon.

She feels a heavy, familiar hand slide into her hair from above and sighs pleasantly, surrendering to comfortable, inevitable sleep.

 

*

 

Sleep that lasts no more than an hour.

At least that’s her best guess, judging by look of the window. It’s still light out when she’s gently prodded awake by a book-less Shauna, who’s set her study materials aside on the nightstand in favor of full on playing with Jackie’s hair. She’s got it wound around multiple fingers like prized ribbon, the pale winter of her hands contrasted by the bright, budding spring that sprouts from Jackie’s head.

But when she looks at Jackie? When she aims those lovely brown eyes down and whispers something as simple as hey?

It might as well be summertime.

“Hey yourself.” Jackie stretches with a yawn, blinking in confusion at the thin, warm weight that moves with her. “Did you put this blanket on me?”

It’s one of the extra ones she normally layers on top of the sheets or keeps at the foot of the bed. Pink, fuzzy, and thrown over the full length of her body, covering her from shoulder to toe.

Shauna shrugs casually, as if this isn’t supposed to make Jackie swoon. “You looked cold.”

“Thanks.” Jackie murmurs, terribly pleased, even though she doubts it’s true. She’s never been cold in Shauna’s lap. “Are you done studying… whatever it is that you’re studying? What is it exactly?”

”Nothing too complex this time. I’ve got to memorize a passage from Shakespeare.”

“Oh. Sounds fun.” Jackie says, making Shauna smirk. Both of them know she hated Hamlet. “Romeo and Juliet?”

”Macbeth.”

“Is that one romantic, too?”

”Not really. It’s more about murder, power, fate, destructive political ambition. That type of thing.”

Jackie nods, absorbing this slowly.

How does one segue from destructive political ambition into foreplay?

“Right. Well… I think it’s hot when you’re studious.” She tries, walking her fingers up Shauna’s arm in the flirty manner she used to when she wanted to get Jeff sputtering. “Maybe you can recite some later for me.”

Shauna doesn’t sputter. Just breathes a short laugh that’s as disappointing as it is pretty. “Okay, I know that’s not your best attempt at dirty talk.”

Look, it’s a little harder to break out the please fuck me thing when she’s not on the brink of orgasm.

(Besides, at this point it’s more like please let me fuck you, pretty please with a cherry on top and Jackie doesn’t want to begin the relationship by more or less announcing her lack of self-respect.)

“C’mon.” She says. “You’re telling me you don’t have a sexy teacher student fantasy?”

”Do you?” Shauna counters.

“No.” Jackie’s pretty sure that’s the truth, but she’s also not particularly turned off by the idea of Shauna bending her over the desk and doing some punishing with a ruler. She’s not a total uptight, prudish little bitch (thank you, Natalie). “At least, not that I know of. Anyway, I’m asking you. What are you into?”

”Making girls cry, apparently.”

It’s said offhandedly, no real bite to it, but Jackie’s breath still snags in an unpleasant way. She wishes she could hit a magic button and make breakfast disappear.

“You know I’m sorry about saying that, right?” She asks, turning to face faintly surprised eyes, hoping Shauna will sense her sincerity. Thankfully, Shauna doesn’t inspect her long before sighing, seeming to get she’s being genuine.

”No, I’m—“ Shauna trips over it a bit. “I’m sorry, too. That could’ve gone better.”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re not secretly venting about me in your diary.”

That sparks a brief pause, where Shauna pets over her head in momentary silence, not replying until: “You’re going to forget about that now that we’re dating, right? Like you’re not actually gonna stay mad?”

Now that we’re dating.

Beautiful, beautiful words.

“Sure,” Jackie responds, snuggling closer, “what’s there to be mad about?”

That seems to clear any potential arguments from the air, which at the moment, is all she could want for. A temporary solution, like the protein bars.

Soon, dark hair is tickling Jackie’s cheeks, and Shauna is leaning down, rubbing their noses together in a move just shy of a kiss, their breaths mingling. ”You want to know what I’m into?”

”Yeah.”

Say it’s me clinging behind your eyelids. Say it’s me haunting your dreams. Say it’s me.

“You. Your mouth. The needy sounds you make, like you’d take anything I’d give you.” Shauna runs her tongue over the parted seam of Jackie’s lips, dipping fleetingly inside her mouth. In, out, torturous. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, Shauna, you should—“ Jackie gestures hazardously from between Shauna’s legs to her own mouth, feeling her blush start to swell the more she does it.

“Sit on your face?” Shauna guesses, filling in for her.

Grateful, Jackie nods. “Yeah. Do that.”

She figures any concerns she has about not being skilled at this can be remedied by the position. This way, Shauna can just pull her where she wants to or simply sit however she chooses. All Jackie has to do in return is stay pliant, which she’s good at — as evidenced by the easy way she lets Shauna guide her onto her back, resting there while Shauna undresses.

Shauna pulls off the Rutgers hoodie first, tossing it aside, while Jackie stares, suppressing a desperate noise at the sight of her bare breasts. Next are the pants, which come free after a few liberal tugs, and then Shauna’s naked again, naked again for her.

No less awestruck than she was the first time, Jackie rakes her eyes over Shauna’s slim abs, leading down to gently curved hips, the pale stretch of her body strong and athletic but softer now that they’ve been missing out on soccer practices. Strangely, she still can’t see the extra weight on Shauna as anything more than a plus, despite her own reservations, her hungry eyes shooting north, then south, then east, then west, from a round ass to sturdy shoulders to very delicately protruding collarbones. Then, lower, lower, lower.

God, is she a sight to behold. 

It’s plainly unbearable to sit and watch Shauna ascend the bed at such a slow pace, taking forever to meet her. Every passing second begins to feel like wasted time to Jackie, who has suddenly developed eyes for only one thing. That damp thicket of dark, barely-trimmed hair and shiny, petaled lips, centered between two muscular thighs.

That part isn’t unbearable at all. In fact, seeing Shauna this way genuinely makes her salivate, enough saliva pooling in her mouth that she has to pause to swallow, still unable to look away from Shauna as she does. Anymore wait time and she’ll be drowning in a puddle of her own drool.

A broad shadow spreads across Jackie as Shauna hovers over her, gaze falling to the bob of her throat, some idea seeming to spark in wicked brown eyes. 

Shauna grips her jaw and says: “Open.”

So, Jackie opens.

Shauna spits.

So, Jackie swallows again.

It should be disgusting, and it is — it’s disgusting and dirty and Jackie is discovering that none of that will stop her body from becoming painfully aroused.

“Don’t be gross, Shauna.” She has to pant out, just for the sake of it. Dignity. Propriety. She doesn’t know. Her clit and her pulse are both beating with same vicious ferocity, drowning out all sense and sound. For some reason, she wants to know what Shauna will do if she pushes back a little. 

“How about you shut up?” In response, Shauna tightens the grip she has on Jackie’s jaw, sealing her mouth closed, and pressing her lips into a small, forced pout. Smiling smugly down at her, Shauna meanly squeezes her cheeks. “See? Much better. Remember this belongs to me. I’ll use it however I want to. Understand?”

Jackie can’t suppress her moan this time, the noise that comes from her thankfully quiet but blatantly needy, a win-lose. She barely recognizes her own voice as it leaves her mouth in strangled agreement, head nodding obediently.

“Yeah — yeah, I understand.”

Seeming satisfied, Shauna does her a favor by muffling the sound with her cunt, scooting up the bed and sinking down without anymore preamble, coating the entire lower half of Jackie’s face in an overwhelming, wet furnace of heat. She starts exactly as Jackie imagined by positioning herself however she pleases, taking ample time shifting around on Jackie’s tongue while she decides which angle is right, moving in these slow, testing circles that feel purposefully tantalizing.

Clearly, Shauna’s out to tease more than just herself. It’s only once Jackie whines for it, unable to form a proper plea, that she fully plants down, satisfying them both with a single motion.

The taste of her is nothing like what Jackie’s heard described by the loudmouthed boys at Wiskayok High, not like tuna or fish, but also nowhere near the over-sweet alternative of honey or pie. Mostly, she’s bitter but also sort of salty, and beneath that a musk Jackie can’t place, something uniquely Shauna that’s addictive to her, that she licks into immediately, craves immediately.

She’s not quite sure what she’s doing, more than eager, but working more off enthusiasm and driving ambition rather than experience. Whatever it is she accomplishes with her tongue must not be too far off the mark because it gets Shauna to moan and buck hard, spreading a generous smear of slick.

“Yeah, like that. Lay your tongue flat for me.” Equally affected, Shauna groans, ordering her around in low tones, as she reaches down to comb encouragingly through Jackie’s once neat hair. ”That’s it. Little slut. Knew you’d be good for something.”

Jackie’s eyes nearly roll into the back of her head.

All her prior concern fades at hearing the sound of Shauna’s voice, cruel but guiding. She learns how to keep her tongue laid out and ready for the grind of Shauna’s hips. She learns how not to let herself suffocate. She learns to surrender. She learns to give in.

For once, she lets go of every worry, every excuse, every stupid rule, and eats. Consumes. Feasts.

Shauna groans loudly, deeply, seeming to sense the shift in her, like they’re joined, like they live by the same clock, greedily rocking forward into Jackie’s open, willing mouth. Rutting back and forth, getting rough, getting messy, almost nothing identifiable in all the wetness except the hard line of her clit, which Jackie readily pushes her tongue against — ever the quick study.

“Fuck, Jackie!” Jerking in pleasure or surprise or both, Shauna moans out her name, a flood of curses streaming from her lips as a flood of slick rushes from her cunt in the same instant. She pulls Jackie’s hair hard, but a sharp sting along the scalp isn’t enough to deter Jackie from trying her best to drink it all.

It’s a testament to how long Shauna’s gone without coming that she does it so quick. Also a testament to how much she wants Jackie. Delightful proof that Jackie isn’t the only one who needs it bad.

Shauna trembles through her orgasm, her tight grip never slackening on Jackie’s hair, never letting up, using it to pull her this way and that, turning her into a rag doll. Mauling not just Jackie’s mouth but her nose and face, as if she’s on a mission to dirty every bit that was clean. Drops slide down Jackie’s throat, and she attempts an inhale but can’t, just can’t get it in, and oh well.

She’s seen far less pleasurable deaths happen. This will rank high, high, high above the plane.

“Jesus.” Shauna lifts herself right when Jackie is starting to see the pearly gates, panting heavily. Jackie does the same below her, gasping for air. “You’re something else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shauna answers by shifting down, kissing her full and wet on the mouth. Positioned on top of her, Shauna feels warm, alive, and solid. The more their bodies slide together, the more Jackie longs to have the weight of her buried inside her cunt. She sucks the mixture of them from Shauna’s tongue, but still there’s this insatiable tremble to her, wanting to suck Shauna in everywhere she can, wanting to give her everything.

”It means I love this.” Shauna breaks the kiss, runs her thumb along Jackie’s obscenely slick lower lip, then lightly across her cheekbone to check in. “You okay?” 

“Not — an — invalid.” Jackie pants in pieces.

“Good. In that case…” Grin turning mischievous, Shauna grabs her hips and flips her over, greeting her ass with a quick, bouncing smack. “My turn.”

Chapter 13: Shauna Interlude

With her study session done and her goal of getting Jackie to successfully consume a snack completed, Shauna has nothing stopping her from escaping into uninterrupted bliss. It’s as if she’s been put on her honeymoon, left alone in a room with no chores or responsibilities, just a bed and a girl that wants her.

True happiness has been a cruel, elusive pipe dream all her life, and now it’s slapping her across the face.

The rest of the day melts pleasurably away, the sky outside shifting from bright, morning blue to fading, evening grey. Shauna doesn’t notice. Shauna doesn’t care. The moon could explode, and the stars could triple, and it still wouldn’t be half as interesting as what’s happening inside.

”Stay still.”

“I know.” Jackie answers through a strained whine. She’s tied to the bed with the longest of her scarves they could find, her thin wrists bound tightly against the headboard. Even though she’s already had a long look, Shauna can’t help but admire the way Jackie’s scarf’s startling yellow color looks in contrast to her tan skin, which runs pink all the way down, the whole of her flushed and shiny with beading sweat.

They’ve been at it for hours.

Since they’ve started, Shauna has made Jackie come no less than four times, bruised her ass with a lengthy, indulgent spanking, gagged her using her own soaked panties, and fingered her against the desk until she was sobbing, dripping both tears and slick.

Shauna swears she’s falling more and more in love with every depraved, passing second.

“If you know, then why can’t you do it?” She asks tauntingly, dragging her nails down Jackie’s inner thighs. She was pretty clear on the rules: Jackie moves, she stops. Jackie stays still, she continues.

So far, Jackie isn’t convincing her to shift her hands any higher.

Jackie wriggles, sighing, “come on, Shauna, please.”

She thinks she can just trot out the please and get whatever she wants from Shauna. She would be right.

“Stay still or I’m bruising the other cheek.” Shauna warns before diving down, spreading glistening lips with her tongue.

Jackie’s clit is already stiff, already waiting for her. She swipes her tongue over it, circles, rubs with abandon, even though she knows Jackie’s achy. Has to be, with her cunt being that puffy. She feels so slippery and hot against Shauna’s tongue, especially as Shauna licks forcefully into her, lapping at her leaking hole, like discovering a little molten puddle. Jackie twists, squeals and squeals and squeals.

Going down on her is quickly becoming one of Shauna’s favorite things to do. Drinking Jackie’s slick, hearing her breathy noises grow, feeling her body yield and start to tremble.

Shauna mouths relentlessly at her, the pace just as eager as it was when they began. If this were any other physical activity, Shauna’s stamina probably would’ve given out by now, but with this, she’s not sure there’s even such a thing as being tired.

Jackie is nearly ripping the headboard in two, scrambling to grip the wood for purchase. She was trying hard to behave before, remarkably half-succeeding, but it must be bordering on her sixth or seventh orgasm now, and she fails to hide the way she’s losing control. Her thighs shake uncontrollably where they’re spread on either side of Shauna, her breath coming louder, her moans hitching high in her throat, voice sounding strangled. Inevitably, she breaks the rules.

It’s part of Shauna’s plan. Her grand design, her fantasy. Somehow, it’s hotter, when Jackie tries to be good but simply can’t. When Shauna makes her shatter.

Jackie’s hips buck, lifting to chase the pleasure, but writhing like that only causes her to slide messily along Shauna’s face. Shauna’s tongue slips and dips much, much lower than it should, touching something dry, nestled between the softness of Jackie’s cheeks.

She knows what it is, she’s not stupid. She’s just not expecting to have her mouth there, to feel it — and nothing in this world could prep her for the choked cry Jackie makes as she does.

(They probably owe some sort of apology letter to the neighbors.) 

She was going to use Jackie’s squirming as an excuse to treat her to another spanking but…

“Have you ever touched yourself here before?” Shauna asks, reaching in with both hands and shamelessly spreading Jackie’s cheeks apart to get a better look at the tightly contracting little furl. The saliva left from Shauna’s accidental lick, paired with the lewd drops of wetness that have snuck down Jackie’s taint, create an extra obscene visual. She’s gleaming like one of the polished trophies Shauna has at home.

”Of course not.” Jackie rushes to defend, though there’s no need to. Shauna’s not criticizing her. The idea might make Jackie flush in embarrassment, but it’s doing the opposite for Shauna, arousal only building. Jackie seems to realize that slowly, her tone creeping into tentative curiosity. ”Do… do you want to?”

Shauna can detect the interest beginning to stir within Jackie’s voice. Jackie might not know it yet, but she’s already willing to give Shauna everything.

”Why else would I ask?” Shauna returns, watching as Jackie’s asshole and cunt twitch together in reaction to her blunt response. And blunt actions, Shauna pulling her asscheeks that much wider, without regard to how the muscle is likely sore.

Jackie likes her rude. Jackie likes her mean. Jackie likes being kissed and fucked like she’s the specialist toy Shauna spotted on the shelf.

Shauna has no problem complying. It’s admittedly pretty easy to treat Jackie like she’s got air for brains when she’s whining unintelligibly like this, filling the room with senseless moaning. She keeps squirming in her restraints, unable to move, but clearly more than a tad shy about being put on display this way.

”You don’t think it’s gross?” Jackie pants, peaking down at her from where her head is pressed to her forearm. Her cheeks are blotchy red, eyes wide and imploring.

”No.” Shauna answers honestly and, hoping to coax Jackie, leaves a small kiss on her thigh, nuzzling it afterwards. She thinks she’s learning just how to crack Jackie open. “I knew you’d be pretty here, too.”

Jackie whines again, hiding her face.

It’s a few moments before her soft, timid voice returns in a murmur. “Okay, but start slow.”

Shauna complies, partially because she’s still exploring as well. This is as new for her as it is for Jackie. She collects more saliva in her mouth and lets it drip, rubbing what comes from her lips along the now slicken rim of Jackie’s asshole, her thumb testing the feel. Just as hot as her cunt, but unimaginably tight, barely any give to it, even as Shauna rubs and spits, rubs and spits, rubs and spits liberally, loosening her a bit more each time.

Unfortunately, a bit isn’t enough. Shauna alternates between her finger and mouth, either lightly probing or smashing her nose into the cleft of Jackie’s ass so she can get as close as possible, tongue prodding, jaw working in time. The taste is different than what she’s used to, but she can’t find it in herself to care, when it’s all just Jackie, and when it’s getting Jackie this soaked, her slit dribbling freely. Her inner thighs are painted with the shiny evidence of their sex.

That should be helpful in terms of slickness, but somehow seems to do next to nothing. The tiny, puckered hole doesn’t even look capable of taking an inch.

As much as Shauna longs to plunge right inside, she doesn’t think she could do it without accidentally pushing past pleasure into genuine harm. Jackie’s cries are edging towards overwhelmed, pitching up helplessly just from the pad of Shauna’s thumb dipping into her.

At this point, she’s not even trying to conceal how much she’s enjoying this, all but wailing. She really, really wants this. Shauna also really, really, wants this, she’s realizing, the farther they progress. They’re both getting each other pent up, but it’s no use.

“Damn it.” Shauna mutters. “We need lube.”

Open-mouthed and openly heaving, Jackie pushes her hips up, squirming in protest. ”But — but—“

”No, Jackie. We can’t today.” Shauna bears down to hold her still, pushing her cheeks apart once more with the sides of her palms, nearly moaning at the view. “God, you have no idea how badly I want to fuck you here.”

Bury in both of her holes at once. Fill her girl up right.

Jackie moans aloud at the idea, her whining only growing that much louder when Shauna drops her hand down, landing a rough smack across Jackie’s ass.

”Play with your clit for me.” Shauna barks, past pleasantries. She thinks she’s kept her waiting long enough.

While Jackie hastens to follow the command, Shauna dives in, pressing back inside of her with the same feverish tongue that she’s used to kiss her mouth and fuck her cunt all this time. Shauna doesn’t waste a second, doesn’t hold back. Jackie’s legs practically spread eagle for her, feet slipping and sliding across the bed as she arches helplessly on top of it, trying to get more of Shauna’s tongue into her. Tiny ah, ah, ahs stream from her lips. Shauna has to grab her hips midair to hold her in place and keep her slotted right against the unyielding motion of her mouth. Jackie all but wheezes as she comes, one hand furiously circling her clit. 

It’s not a surprise. Shauna has been watching her fly over that cliff for hours, so she’s anticipating it when Jackie suddenly pauses, writhes, and splatters onto the bridge of nose like a good girl. Shauna loves gripping her throughout it, feeling her shifting everywhere, as if she’s an animal Shauna caught. Out there, Shauna wasn’t a hunter, like Nat or Travis, but sometimes, if you touched the muscle right, a carcass could still twitch on the butcher’s block.

So, Shauna touches Jackie right, helping ease her down from her orgasm by focusing on her ass, while Jackie expends the last of her energy on her slit. She wonders how it feels for Jackie, having two of her holes pampered. She wonders if she feels good and spoiled because Shauna sure does. After feeding on her insides, Shauna feels fucking full.

She spends another minute doing languid strokes until she’s satisfied, crawling up and over Jackie’s body, nosing along her exposed throat. Spent, Jackie sags bonelessly against the pillows, letting Shauna sucks additional marks across her collarbones in-between untying the scarf, gradually unwinding it from her wrists.

Jackie sinks lower about as soon as she’s unbound, sliding further underneath Shauna, her body fitting comfortably below. She’s slow to come to, taking a long time to focus her eyes, blinking, until she’s fully recovered, and staring up at Shauna limply.

”Jesus.” She exhales, after an indefinite period of time, countless minutes lost in their pleasant delirium.

Shauna looks at Jackie, panting in a puddle, and feels her heart seize. Finally, she has it all. Sex, love, ease.

”Agreed.” Shauna grins in response, unable to hide her satisfaction. There were days when she didn’t even consider the idea that she’d get to kiss Jackie, and look at them now. Look at where she just put her tongue.

Jackie turns sheepish, curling smaller, as she notices Shauna’s slightly smug expression. “Don’t say a word.”

”I wasn’t going to.” Shauna answers, putting some effort into biting back her smile, for Jackie’s sake.

Shauna can’t believe that she’s hers. That Jackie is her girlfriend. Her girlfriend, who fits every part of her. Her girlfriend, who still loves her, despite her filth.

”You so were.” Jackie mutters, blushing. “God, I don’t know what you bring out of me. I’ve never even thought about…”

”Anal?” Shauna finishes for her readily.

Groaning, Jackie drops her head forward and buries her face in Shauna’s chest. “Seriously, I feel like I’m in porn.”

The continuous hiding troubles Shauna a little, but it also excites her: the knowledge that Jackie still has modesty to ruin. Is that sick? Potentially. She preoccupies herself with running a hand down Jackie’s back, massaging her spine through the sweaty, plastered-on shirt that’s somehow still clinging valiantly to her torso, ridden up in about twenty different places.

”We’re missing a few things from porn. Like stilettos, implants, big, buff men with mustaches…” She lists to the top of Jackie’s head, lips dragging along her scalp, trying to joke. It must land poorly, though, because Jackie doesn’t budge from her position. “For the record, I thought it was hot, watching you lose control like that. I wasn’t planning on it either but — pleasant surprise.”

”You can’t tell anyone.” Jackie mumbles, muffled by Shauna’s body.

Alright, so the request is slightly, if not altogether ridiculous. It’s not like it’s high school anymore. The gossip mill isn’t exactly up and running, waiting to spread rumors about graduates, but whatever, it is kind of her job to indulge Jackie. Not a bad gig, all things considered.

Truthfully, she’s missed Jackie’s brand of silliness. She leans into it, meeting her with fond amusement. “Who would I tell?”

”Tai.”

”Trust me, Tai doesn’t want to know.” Shauna laughs, imagining the reaction she’d get if she tried. “Besides, I don’t like sharing. You know that.”

Jackie is an angel beneath her — soft, delicate, and lovely. Only for her eyes.

”I know. You were always pretty territorial about your toys.”

”Old habits die hard, I guess.” Shauna responds. In return, Jackie removes her head from its cave and instead stretches out happily, smiling.

“I just can’t believe that this is real. Everything feels too good.” She almost blurts the admission, gazing at Shauna affectionately. Teeth graze her lower lip, and then, tentative, like a test: “I love you.”

So obviously waiting to see if Shauna will say it back again. The room is hot and clammy with the remnants of their lovemaking, sheets thoroughly soaked through, and yet Jackie is still needy for reassurance. Shauna understands. Feels the same, even. This afternoon has been a dream, but whenever she’s in one of them, she always expects to be woken up soon. She wants to squirrel Jackie away, wants to burrow the two of them inside a hole where no one else can follow and she can finally take her, keep her, have her, marry her.

Can orgasms drive a person crazy?

Her head has filled with a blissful fuzz, which could be happiness or the mark of the criminally insane.

“I love you, too.” Shauna says, reply coming easy. Well, easier than proposing. “I almost forgot being with you felt like this.”

”Like what?”

Thrilling, intoxicating, obsessive.

”Fun.” She responds, knowing it will make Jackie beam. Thoughtlessly, she tucks some of Jackie’s hair behind her ear, since that’s something she can do whenever she wants now. “How about we go take a shower? Think the bathroom’s free?”

“Yeah, everyone’s probably got class. We could even share a stall this time, if you want.” Jackie tries to add that in casually, but Shauna can sense the gravity behind the words. It’s an offer of more than just a shower. It’s an offer to see her bare without clothing, which Shauna somehow still hasn’t fully done yet, despite everything.

Shauna leans down, nips her jaw. ”I want.”

Momentarily shutting her eyes around a tiny shiver, Jackie grips Shauna’s biceps bracingly. “Just give me a minute. I want to be able to walk there without falling over.”

”Take your time.” Shauna says, dipping further to return to Jackie’s neck. “I’m not in a rush.”

They have nothing but time. Sort of. Shauna will have to go back to Brown soon, of course, but that’s a small caveat in the layout of their lives. She can always come visit again or possibly even have Jackie there, now that they’re dating. The idea of keeping their lives mixed into adulthood used to scare her so, so much — thinking that she would forever live on as the same sidekick from high school, disregarded and lesser. But knowing that it doesn’t have to be like that at all? Knowing Jackie has pined and starved and torn herself out for Shauna, too? Now there’s no reason to stop fighting the unstoppable force she’s been feeling ever since she met Jackie, the one that she used to loathe. The one that cements in her mind that they’re bound together irrevocably.

She doesn’t have to look at Jackie with envy anymore because now it’s not just Jackie that’s perfect. It’s Shauna’s girlfriend who is. It’s Shauna’s girlfriend, who looks like God’s favorite and Shauna’s girlfriend, who could have anyone with that winning smile, and Shauna’s girlfriend, who only chose one person.

As Shauna maps Jackie’s throat, a sense of pure satisfaction rolls over her. She lets her touches grow more tender, along with her mouth, checking the marks she’s left — the hickeys surrounding Jackie’s shirt collar, the nail scrapes down Jackie’s thighs, the darkening red across Jackie’s ass, kissing over them all in an effort to soothe. She ignores the possessive pulse between her legs and makes herself careful for Jackie. Even if Jackie likes the kinks and degrading elements, Shauna can tell she also likes the gentle stuff as well.

One of Jackie’s hands winds into the short hair at the nape of Shauna’s neck, playing with the curls there encouragingly, as if to reinforce this. Shauna tilts her head and kisses Jackie’s forearm briefly. She knows her girl. Better than she does herself, sometimes. 

There’s no metric to how much time they spend lounging in that one long, lazy moment, before deciding to try the bathroom. Fortunately, Jackie turns out to be right, and there’s no one taking a shower in the middle of the day, so they’re able to sneak in undetected, huddling hurriedly into one of the stalls with Jackie’s toiletries piled in their hands. It’s a tight squeeze, but neither of them mind that as they giggle and strip, side by side, bumping the tiles with their elbows.

“You don’t think anyone’s going to walk in, do you?” Jackie wonders, after hanging her shorts on the rail.

They pretty much only dressed as a formality, throwing on the first things they could grab off the floor to sprint down the hall in.

”No, we’re probably fine, as long as we’re quiet.” Shauna replies. She figures, if anyone walks in, she can just clamp a hand over Jackie’s mouth.

”Why did that last bit feel pointed?”

”Because it was.”

Jackie rolls her eyes. ”Okay, but if we get caught, I’m blaming you for everything.”

”Deal.” Shauna finishes up undressing and then pauses to watch Jackie do the same.

She doesn’t bother hiding her stare, and bravely, Jackie doesn’t shrink from it. Taking hold of her shirt, Jackie slowly pulls up the hem, inch by inch, revealing her body in increments. Hipbones, nonexistent stomach, conclave ribs, the bare buds of breasts. Everything about Jackie is slighter, more frail, but that’s nothing Shauna didn’t expect. The cat’s been out of the bag since Nat’s called her. Still, seeing is different than hearing, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to tamper her reaction.

Shauna isn’t sure if she should compliment her to reassure her or simply comfort her or both. What, if anything, would help. If there’s genuinely a way to hold Jackie together, like she said she would.

Because as good as it had felt in the moment to stand up and gallantly promise to fix Jackie, the truth is, she has no blueprint for how to do this. She watches Jackie set aside the flannel with her hands just dangling at her sides. No plan, no guide.

Thankfully, Jackie helps solve that problem for her by stepping closer, bridging the gap between them. “Wash my hair for me?”

No commenting on it, then.

“Sure. Turn around.” Shauna says, feeling some relief. Jackie does just that, shifting to switch the faucet on while Shauna gathers some shampoo. Water spurts out and darkens Jackie’s hair.

Scrubbing her fingers through the wetting strands, Shauna thinks of mermaids, of sunlight, of heat on a grassy field and a similar shower with Jackie in a locker room back in Wiskayok, of looking without being able to touch. That’s all a memory now, as she situates herself behind Jackie and allows her hands to roam freely, layering on a liberal amount of whatever overpriced product Jackie uses. Steam rises around them, and Shauna finds herself sighing, as if she’s been sucked right into a spa.

Huh.

Overpriced smells like heaven, actually.

“Conditioner, too.” Jackie adds, her head hanging heavy with the water, sagging back so Shauna can take her time working the shampoo in properly.

“Sure, your highness.” Shauna teases, kissing her wet shoulder.

”I’ll do yours, after.” Jackie peaks back to say. “Don’t worry.”

”I’m not.”

Shauna is warmed by the offer anyway. She thinks she’s come almost as many times as Jackie, though she hasn’t been keeping track of her own. Her body sure feels as if it’s been fucked within an inch of her life, so the idea of disappearing beneath Jackie’s gentle palms, plus the warm, shower spray, sounds amazing.

Regardless, it’s a while before they switch. Shauna spends ample time on Jackie’s hair, careful not to knot it. Equally ample time re-introducing herself to Jackie’s upper half, lathering soap onto her breasts until her soft, pink nipples perk up, then rinsing the suds that trail off her lightly freckled stomach, hips, and arms. There’s so, so much new skin to see.

”Still having fun back there?” Jackie asks over her shoulder, flirty, giggling when Shauna reciprocates by kissing and biting her shoulder blade.

”What else would I be doing?”

Shauna conditions her hair, she washes her back, she worships. In that moment, she loves Jackie above spas, above Saints, above everything.

Jackie leans into her more, letting Shauna take her weight. “Touching your new girlfriend?”

For a second, Shauna is once again thrown by how off Jackie feels, how shrunken and different from her former self. It never ceases to be startling.

”Subtle hint.” Shauna murmurs sarcastically, getting Jackie to huff and grind fussily into her. It does its job of shifting Shauna’s mind to more important things.

”Oh, whatever, just take me already.” Jackie says, backtracking with a shocked squeak of a gasp, when Shauna moves both hands up to twist her puffy nipples into tortured points. “Just take me — pretty please, I mean.”

Shauna laughs, relents, and gives Jackie what she wants. Or tries to.

It’s clumsy in the tiny, near-claustrophobic, college shower, and clumsier still with Jackie reaching her slippery hand back to fumble between Shauna’s legs, as well, so they’re panting in unison. They get in a few, heady minutes like that, the angle doing them no favors, yet not preventing them entirely.

Jackie’s fingers keep up graceless, determined circles around her clit until there’s a low fire spreading across Shauna’s insides. One digit dips through her wetness to press upwards and in, bringing a sharp moan out of her as she clenches unexpectedly. Shauna doesn’t anticipate the heightened sensitivity or the overzealous throb from her body or the way her hips jerk suddenly and hazardously into Jackie. 

“Whoops—“

”Shit, shit, shit—“

”Don’t drop me, oh my god, don’t drop me—“

In a flurry of panic, they struggle not to slip, limbs flailing everywhere. Shauna manages to grip the wall for balance, but Jackie fails to grab onto the wet tile, prompting Shauna to rapidly sling her arm out and catch Jackie around the waist last minute. She yanks Jackie flush against her, holding her securely to her chest while they pant in the aftermath.

“Okay, so shower sex isn’t as sexy as I thought. Good to know.” Jackie admits, eventually, breathless.

”I don’t know about that.” Shauna muses, as their breathing gradually begins falling back into place. She definitely wouldn’t describe the naked, sudsy eyeful she’s been getting as unsexy. “I think we just need a better shower. Maybe outside of a college dorm.”

She can feel the subtle motion of Jackie steadying in her arms, inhaling and exhaling to a slow rhythm that might almost seem peaceful to Shauna, if she couldn’t also feel Jackie’s ribs. They protrude, like every other bone in her body does now, calling attention through the skin. Somewhere deep inside of Shauna’s stomach, something spoils and turns rancid.

Jesus, how is she ever meant to dig Jackie out of this? 

Jackie must notice her noticing because she gently but pointedly takes Shauna’s wrist, after a second, guiding it up to a more benign spot instead. “Well, I’m open to trying again. We’ve got time, right?”

Shauna forces herself to smile. Hopefully, it’s at least mildly reassuring. 

“Right.”

 

*

 

Later, as they’re strolling back into Jackie’s room, Shauna asks, “so, what do you want to do for our first date?”

Jackie twirls to face her, walking backwards through the doorway with a happy, teasing gleam in her eye. “Paris, definitely. It’s the most romantic. I say we hit the Eiffel Tower.”

Even though she wanted a real answer, Shauna returns her smile. ”Mm, and I assume you’ll want me to fly you first class?”

”No.” Jackie pulls the towel around her shoulders in a dramatic fashion, puffing it up with her elbows so it looks like a winter coat. “I only fly private.”

Wow.

Shauna actually stops to take a pause. ”Was that your Lottie impression?”

”Maybe.”

”Jackie, that was terrible.”

”Hey!”

”Hey yourself.”

”You’re my girlfriend!”

”What, so, you want me to lie?” Shauna remarks, reaching over to haul Jackie in by the waistband of her shorts. They’re cute, blue, and entirely pointless, considering what they're getting up to tonight. “Luckily, I don’t like you for your stand-up act.”

Jackie follows the motion and leans right into her, blinking her recently-perfected bedroom eyes up. “Yeah? What do you like me for?”

Her hair, lips, eyes, nose, skin. The vibrant way she laughs. The ease with which she plucks a grin from Shauna’s frowning mouth. The list truly goes on forever.

So, Shauna tries the good girlfriend thing and says the truth.

”The list’s too long. We’d be here forever.” It feels extremely cheesy leaving her lips, but Jackie lights up like a Christmas tree, so mission accomplished. “For real, what should we do? Picnic, a movie, mini golf, bowling?”

Regardless of whatever plan Jackie comes up with, they should probably at least get a snack. She’s determined to get a bit more food into Jackie before the end the day.

But surprisingly, Jackie just shrugs, her small hands gathered on top of Shauna’s chest. “I don’t know, Shauna. Is it crazy if I just want to stay here?”

”Yes.” Shauna deadpans. “You made Jeff take you out basically every weekend.” 

“Well, you’re not Jeff, if you hadn’t noticed.” Jackie points out playfully, poking her. “I actually like being alone with you. It’s not like we can kiss in public, anyway, so we’d have to hold back, and who wants that? Besides, I’m already a little worn out.”

The tone of voice she uses to talk about it slightly concerns Shauna, who slips her hands lower, past the waistband and into Jackie’s shorts, tentatively pressing her fingers against the heated skin. Jackie sucks in a tiny hiss of a breath that suggests it must be tender.

“Does it hurt?” Shauna questions.

”Kinda. Sort of stings.”

Thinking fast, Shauna asks: “Do you have any of that aloe vera cream Coach used to give us?”

It came in a minuscule, dark green bottle and was mostly used to sooth the ankles or shins after hours of kicking their opponents. Shauna knows its earthy, yet vaguely chemical scent well.

”I think so.” Jackie says, going to look. “Why?”

Shauna doesn’t respond until Jackie’s found and handed her the bottle. ”Go lay down. I’ll give you a massage.”

”Really?” 

”Why are you surprised?”

“I’m not.” Jackie says, already stepping by Shauna to lay down on the bed, dropping clothes as she goes. Wearing them was never anything more than a formality in the first place. ”I’ve just never gotten a massage outside of practice before.”

Shauna settles some, losing her accusatory tone. “First time for everything, I guess.”

Naked limbs spread wide across the sheets, splaying out luxuriously as Jackie stretches flat on her stomach, sinking right into the pampered role. Vaguely amused, Shauna comes to join her on the bed. She squirts about a palmful of the aloe vera cream into her hand before climbing on top of Jackie again, the mattress dipping with her as she makes her way above Jackie on crawling knees. This isn’t exactly new territory. She’s an athlete, after all, and the daughter of a woman who works on her feet everyday. She can manage a sore muscle or two. Without thinking much of it, she rubs the white glob in her hand evenly all over her fingers before setting them on Jackie’s spine, putting firm pressure behind her fingers.

A soft sigh immediately issues from Jackie’s mouth. “That feels nice.”

“Good.”

Somehow, the little voice in Shauna’s head that would usually be whispering lap dog is far away at the moment. For once, she doesn’t have to argue with it or even pay it any mind. She can’t be below Jackie, when she’s been in charge all weekend, when she’s literally above her now.

In a weird way, this trip sort of feels as if they’re working together to seal some ancient wound. Yeah, there’s the obvious healing she’s been trying to help Jackie through, but there’s also something separate from that which quietly grows inside herself, a foreign peace she hadn’t been introduced to until recently. Being near Jackie, being loved by her, being granted the permission to touch her at any passing whim — strangely, it settles Shauna, satisfies some of her more restless edges. She gets to be the one who says jump, and Jackie has to be the one to ask how high. Even in the aftermath, that faint buzz of power still sticks, blocking out the bitterness that would usually be storming around her while doing something like this.

Instead of dwelling on the fact that she actually feels lovesick enough to offer to become Jackie’s personal masseuse, she lets herself be distracted by the sight of all the bites and bruises. Harsh, reddened spots, random indented bite marks, a blatant handprint on Jackie’s ass that she lathers in cream.

Shauna rolls her hands over thoroughly, working it in the same way she did the soap less than an hour ago. Remembering the shower, she’s mindful not to linger too long on any one given spot, so Jackie won’t get overly antsy. Jackie’s quiet beneath her, only responding with the occasional breath or twitch of a muscle but no instruction. Complete, pliant trust in whatever Shauna chooses to do to her body.

It’s almost a bit scary.

What if things went differently, and Jackie ended up dating some violent, psycho, frat boy? Shauna would probably have to cross state lines anyway just to gut the bitch.

“You know, I like having firsts with you.” Jackie eventually confesses, seemingly out of the blue. Shauna glances over to see that her eyes are closed, gentle bliss unfolded across her slackened face. “First time having sex with a girl, showering with a girl, and now this…”

”I like having firsts with you, too.” She returns, thinking of kissing Jackie, of pulling Jackie’s head between her legs, of fixing the scarf around Jackie’s wrists, of pushing past a tight ring of muscle with her tongue.

”How was it, anyway? Your first time with a girl?” Jackie throws the question out bizarrely lightly — like it doesn’t make Shauna nearly choke on air.

Right, that reminds her. There’s still that one teensy, tiny detail she hasn’t voiced. The other girls.

What’s there to be mad about? 

Well…

Shauna is sure that Jackie would want to know, particularly about Shauna semi-impersonating her, but really, what good would bringing it up now do? They’d probably just argue, and the argument would probably be pointless because everything that went on happened outside of their relationship. It’s not as if Shauna actually cheated for real. That was Jeff. Jeff, who had her and still somehow found a way to want someone else, versus Shauna, who hasn’t managed to have sex once without having Jackie’s image flood her eyes. Why should any of it matter when none of those women did? Why add another unnecessary stressor?

Technically, she wouldn’t even be telling a real lie. It’s more a lie of omission, and those are nothing, especially when Jackie’s forgiven her for worse.

So, Shauna dips down and kisses the edge of her glistening shoulder. “Better than with a boy.”

”Same here.” Jackie laughs.

She may not have been Shauna’s first, but she will be the last. That’s the only thing that matters.

 

*

 

Their first date starts to genuinely take shape somewhere around midnight, when Jackie suddenly kicks into high gear, nudging a confused Shauna upright. “Okay, it’s time. Enough lying around.”

”Time for what?” Shauna questions, bewildered and mildly sulky as she dislodges from Jackie’s neck. “I thought you liked lying around?”

“I do, but if this is going to be our first date, we’ve gotta make it more romantic.”

”Really? This isn’t romantic enough for you?” Shauna teases, smirking amongst the dirty tissues and sodden sheets.

Jackie rolls her eyes.

”Romantic isn’t the word I’d use.” She comments and accepts a peck on her jaw but no more. “Come on, get up. Give me a hand.”

They move from the bed to the floor, taking one of the dryer blankets with them and straightening it out to form a small sitting area. Shauna throws down a few of the pillows on top, while Jackie briefly scurries around, pulling open drawers, producing three, likely dorm-prohibited candles from inside her desk. They use Shauna’s lighter on the contraband, crawling around together until they’re surrounded by a warm, intimate glow, everything seeming so much more quiet and private, as if the moment exists in a whisper.

The candlelight softens the smaller details of the room into unimportance. Shauna only has eyes for Jackie and the sweet smile she adorns, sat there in their comfy, makeshift pile, her hair shaken down around her shoulders like a tumbling shroud, her face open and satisfied, containing not a single ounce of displeasure. 

”See? Isn’t this better?” She asks as soon as they’re finished and lounging, scooting across the space to leisurely stretch her legs into Shauna’s lap.

Looking around, Shauna has no choice but to admit the small changes do give the room a more romantic effect. Never doubt Jackie’s ability to set up ambience.

”It is.” Shauna amends. What would really make it better is some dinner, but she’s building up to that particular suggestion.

Jackie grins at her agreement, but she also points a stern finger towards her. “Don’t think you can get away with this all of the time. I do expect a real date, you know.”

“Right back at you. Who says I don’t want to be woo’d?”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna woo your ass so hard.” Jackie responds, faux frowning when Shauna merely smiles in amusement. “Wipe that grin off your face, I can woo. I’m way more of a romantic than you.”

“Well, I don’t see how that’s true. Only one of us abandoned school here.” Shauna points out.

”Only one of us started calling.”

”Only one of us gave a public speech.” 

“Fine, you’re right.” Jackie agrees with a big, theatrical sigh, leaning into Shauna. “I guess you’re really, really into me.”

Shauna winds arms around her, smiling adorable and secretive. “I guess.”

”Does it help I’m really into you, too?”

Hopeful, happy eyes blink up at her. Cupping Jackie’s face, Shauna takes the hint and kisses her gently on the mouth, their lips slowly sliding together, their heartbeats seeming to pulse in time.

“It does.” Shauna whispers after. She licks her lips, preparing her next words carefully. “But I think we’re missing something. Most dates usually have dinner.”

”…most but not all?” Jackie tries unsuccessfully, withering underneath Shauna’s flat look. “Alright, alright. I’ll order takeout.”

Near rolling her (no longer happy, hopeful eyes), she pulls apart from Shauna and standing abruptly. Just like that, up and out of her spot — retreating.

“Hey, wait.” Shauna says, reaching out and catching her by the hand. She knew the dinner suggestion wouldn’t be met kindly, but she didn’t expect Jackie quite literally running away from her. ”Why do you sound mad at me?”

”I’m not mad.” Jackie replies in her clearly-mad-and-barreling-headfirst-towards-passive-aggressive voice (perfected back in the fifth grade).

”Jackie, I know when you’re lying.”

Another sigh. Heavy, this time. Shauna can’t not notice the way it wracks her entire frame, especially with the flannel she’s claimed gaping open.

”I just don’t get this.” Jackie admits frustratedly, tugging it tighter around her, obscuring her body from view. “It’s like you’re asking me to ruin the night. We’re having fun, we’re kissing, and all you’re focused on is…”

”…keeping you alive?”

”Do I look like I’m about to keel over?” Jackie bites. Some of the surprise Shauna feels at the comeback must show on her face because Jackie’s shrinking in the next second, taking a step back to scrub manic fingers through her hair. “All this just feels a little dramatic. I’m fine.”

”You’re not.” Shauna responds, continuing before Jackie can interject. “We talked about this, Jax. We agreed you would work on it.”

”I did work on it. You saw me have those protein bars earlier.”

”That’s not enough. That’s barely a meal.”

”It’s a lot more than I’ve been having.”

Shauna ignores the feel of her heart aching. “You see that’s not a good thing, right? You get that’s messed up? You can’t afford to skip meals right now. You can’t afford to skip meals ever. Jackie, you look…”

Sick, emaciated, scary.

”I look what?” Jackie asks sharply. Danger signs practically flare behind her head. Shauna knows this goes nowhere good. Them shooting words back and forth like this, on the verge of fighting.

”Nothing. Forget I said it.” She mutters, clearing her throat. “How about tacos tonight?”

”Tell me.”

”No.”

”Tell me.”

”No.”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me—“

Unable to help it, Shauna finally snaps: ”Why are you acting like a child?”

”Why are you never honest with me?” Jackie snipes back just as quickly.

Shauna swallows, their talk earlier flickering through her mind. ”This isn’t about me.”

”Great, good job taking accountability.” Jackie mutters, causing a swell of irritation to rise in Shauna. Apparently, even the mere mention of food makes Jackie pissy. “Real nice.” 

“You know what?” Shauna spits out, overcome. She’s approaching the end of her rope here. “You look like you’re dying. There’s your honesty. Feel good?”

Because it doesn’t feel good to her. It doesn’t feel good at all, loving someone so insistent on rotting. Actually, it’s really fucking terrifying.

”No, Shauna. None of this feels good.” Jackie takes a breath, as well as a couple haggard steps backwards, until she’s sagging against the desk. Her arms cross defensively. “I’m not an idiot, okay? I get I’m sick. What I don’t know is how I’m supposed to get through this everyday for the rest of my life.”

The moment Jackie’s voice starts to crack, Shauna is up on her feet. She barely feels her strides as she takes them, only feels the urgency, the desperation, as she walks up, stopping right in front of Jackie.

“With me.” Shauna clasps both of Jackie’s cheeks in her hands, looking directly into her love’s teary face. “That’s how. I told you. You and me always.”

”You won’t be here forever.” Jackie mumbles. Shauna doesn’t know what to say to that because it’s true. She does have to leave sometime. There’s nothing to do but wait silently, inner turmoil whirling, while Jackie sniffles and dabs at her eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know why I just keep crying. The tears so aren’t attractive… or I guess, maybe they are for you.”

Shauna chuckles airily, some of the weight in her chest lightening.

”Have dinner with me, please?” She requests again in a purposefully soft tone, stroking Jackie’s cheek. “I know not everything’s closed. There’s got to be a restaurant open around here that sells at least a side salad or something.”

After a deep, steadying inhale, Jackie leans over and picks up the phone. ”Did you say you wanted tacos?”

Notes:

This might end up being the last Shauna interlude, depending on how the chapter count works out. So possible goodbye to Shauna’s POV?

Chapter 14

Notes:

Disregard my last author’s note, there’ll definitely be one more Shauna interlude. I decided this fic needs more room for everything to work out, so in total, there’s going to be 18 chapters plus an epilogue

The mood after her little crying spiel (technically her little crying spiel part two) feels slightly off, oddly serious and emotional for a first date in a way that Jackie doesn’t know how to repair. They’re not at each other’s throats or anything, but they’re not all kissy kissy, lovey lovey the way they were a moment ago.

In fact, it’s almost torturously quiet as they wait for the food, migrating back to their makeshift bed. Moonlight plays off of Shauna’s face, concealing more than illuminating, and Jackie’s body is itchy from it. Tell me what you’re thinking. Let me in. It’s been ages since she’s had to sit and decode one of Shauna’s unreadable expressions. Furrowed brows, flat eyes, straight line of plump mouth. More frustrating than the unresponsive phone somehow.

Jackie goes ahead and offers the first thing that pops into her head, something that she knows will be fun because she did it with Nat while they were lounging in a similar position. ”Hey, what if we get high?”

“What, you want to smoke some chronic?” Shauna smiles slyly, trotting out Jeff’s dumb phrase from forever ago. Whatever’s left of the tension breaks. Immediate relief floods Jackie, knowing she hasn’t ruined the night with her mini outburst. Shauna doesn’t look the slightest bit mad. More curious, if anything. “Do you even have any?”

She likes hearing the interest in Shauna’s voice.

“Yeah.” Jackie answers, standing up. “Nat gave me some I haven’t done anything with yet.”

”Since when does Nat give you free stuff?”

Pulling her nightstand drawer open, Jackie quickly fishes the joints out from their hiding place, eager to get started. ”Since you both collectively decided I’m a mess that needs to be plied with gifts.”

The idea of smoking and ending up eating everything in sight scares her supremely, sure, but the idea of not being able to eat a single bite of that salad when it comes oddly scares her more. Being looked at as helpless by Shauna once again, being seen as a poor, broken, dying thing that can’t manage the slightest swallow herself. She’s getting really tired of that line of thinking, but then, what has she done to disprove it?

”Hey, that’s not true.” Shauna stops to stare at her seriously as she’s walking back. The humor at the edge of Shauna’s mouth gives her away. “I haven’t gotten you anything.”

”Uh-huh, well, maybe you should get on that, you ass.” Jackie laughs, whacks Shauna on the shoulder and sits down, her legs crossed over each other. “Do you think we could light these with a candle?”

“I don’t see why not.” Shauna says, reaching for one and handing the burning wick off to Jackie. “Here, try.”

Fortunately, it does work. They’re still rolled just as neatly as she remembers, and it’s easy to hold the tip of one to the tiny, dancing flame. A few seconds later, the familiar taste of cheap weed is stinging her throat as she takes the first go, inhaling carefully underneath Shauna’s watchful supervision, all of her effort centered on not coughing.

It’s stupid, but some small part of her is nervous to impress, to show off this one new college skill. Most likely it’s because she’s being watched by Shauna’s eyes, specifically. The brown which has always held something a little daunting in it, the irises that are unfairly knowing, with how pit dark they are and the nearly tangible way that they caress her skin. Most likely it’s because Shauna is the expert at giving her butterflies. But blowing the smoke out of her mouth, seeing the grey wisps float through the air, she can’t help but feel a quiet sense of accomplishment, as if she’s just won at show and tell, if show and tell was a game you could win.

”You go.” She says, afterwards, as casual as your average stoner at one of the parties they used to attend.

”We should probably open a window before we keep going.” Shauna suggests, prompting them to move over further until they’re seated right near the low-placed glass, asses on the floor with their faces gently tickled by the incoming breeze.

The way the icy air prickles her skin reminds her of electricity, of the period right before a thunderstorm. The ones that they used to wait out together, back when she’d have to protect little elementary-school Shauna from the overloud, cracking noises. Except they’re much older now, and the world is close to dead silent, nothing out there but the occasional murmur under the sleeping campus. By all accounts, everything should feel different, and yet, none of it seems to. It’s them together, as they’ve always been. Electric, as they’ve always been. Even though it’s creeping past midnight, even though she’s exhausted, settling down to talk with Shauna still feels like pure, childish fun. Sitting here, she can’t remember whatever reason made her so eager to grow up.

Shauna leans over the windowsill, sucks, and blows smoothly, the first exhale sagging her shoulders.

“This was a good idea,” she sighs.

Jackie’s body warms from her praise. “Thanks.”

“How often do you do this, anyway?”

”Not often. Nothing’s changed, really it’s still mostly just for parties.” If Shauna were to ask her about her drinking habits, the answer would be different, but thankfully, that’s not a topic they broach.

”Figures.” Shauna says with a slight, fond smile and dip of her head. “You know, I was kinda worried Nat was turning you into her somehow.”

”Me? What about you, Miss Hand-Rolled Cigarettes?”

”You try getting through a three hour lecture without a break.”

”Three hours?” Jackie remarks wondrously, taking the joint back from her. “God, I’d drop out.”

”It’s not that bad. The subject’s cool… and we watch videos...” Shauna says, looking increasingly stumped as she pushes through her justification, before finally giving up and kicking Jackie’s ankle. “Stop, you’ll make me feel like a nerd.”

”You’re a nerd whether I make you feel like one or not, sorry. That’s kind of what happens when you run off to a big geek school.”

“A big geek school? You mean an Ivy League?”

Major eye roll.

”Oh, right, sorry. However could I have forgotten you go to an Ivy League?” Jackie waves her hands in the air as if beckoning a very large crowd, smoke trailing along with her. “Everyone, everyone, gather around to hear about how the only one in this room going to an Ivy League is Shauna Shipman!”

“Okay, okay. Quiet.” Laughing, Shauna interrupts before she can carry on with anymore theatrics. “I get it, I do kinda brag. Is it so wrong to be proud of myself?”

For once, Jackie doesn’t have to work to notice the trace of something heavier in Shauna’s voice. It’s getting easier to spot now. The insecurity masked in defensiveness, the tender flesh swaddled in barbed wire.

“No.” She replies and easily. There’s no hesitation because it’s the truth. “I’m already proud of you.”

”Thanks, Jackie.” Shauna whispers with that balled-up, nearly imperceptible smile Jackie loves to kiss. She only refrains because she sees Shauna trap her distractingly plush, lower lip between her teeth and start nibbling it, as if she’s worried about something. “Speaking of Brown, actually… I’ve got to go back soon. Tomorrow will probably have to be my last full day.”

It’s as if whatever structure that holds Jackie’s body upright fractures and begins to break, even though she knew — she knew—

”Oh.”

”But you should come see me.” Shauna’s quick to reassure. “I was thinking we’ll hang out during break this weekend, and once Thanksgiving’s over, you can come visit me. How does that sound?”

Humpty Dumpty abruptly starts to put herself back together again.

”Perfect. That sounds perfect.” Jackie responds, stammering over her words in startled joy, unable to shape a better reply. “We could even alternate weekends, then we could do this all the time.”

Suddenly, it’s all she can register, excitement taking over in one overlarge swell. She’s going to come see Shauna, and Shauna’s going to come see her, and they’re going to do it again and again and again. There’ll be more dates. More kisses. More time. More of this sweet, pleasurable bliss. Their whole lives could end up being this.

“You don’t mind making the trek there?” Shauna asks skeptically.

What? No. Could there be a more ridiculous question?

”No. Of course not.” Jackie says.

Anything for you is resting on the tip of her tongue, but then Shauna is tilting closer, cupping the nape of her neck with flame-warmed fingers, and her focus is pretty much blown. Jackie loses all breath inside of Shauna’s mouth, air and sense alike escaping her as they connect. They kiss for several long, wonderful moments, sharing the taste of ash between them, that solid anchor of Shauna’s palm holding her in place as their tongues slide against each other. The pace unthinkingly slow, the heat of Shauna’s touch and the drugs making her want to savor every bit. Everything seems to drag forever when she’s high, and that’s good because tonight she wants forever with Shauna.

Shauna prods deeper, and it’s a no brainer. Her lips part, her mouth all but blooming open for Shauna, just like her body did in bed. She still can’t believe she let Shauna touch that part of herself, when she never planned for anyone to even look there before.

It was a strange sensation. Tingly. Hot. Hot and wet and vulnerable and filthy, like she was being split straight down the middle, peeled of armor somehow, only to reveal what they both found out were sensitive, pink insides.

She doesn’t think she would have done it if Shauna wasn’t the one lying there between her legs.

Shauna, who she wanted to give so much to, every bit of her mind, body, and soul. Shauna, who was so patient and steady with her in that moment, manning the helm of her entire being.

No, Jackie. We can’t today. Shauna had explained to her in that cemented, no-argument tone, and Jackie had felt a wild disappointment clawing at her gut unexpectedly. The need to have something inside, to finally be completely full of everything she wanted was driving her mad.

It’s okay. I want to feel the stretch. I want to feel you make yourself fit.

I want you everywhere.

Looking back, Jackie is thankful that plea never saw the light of day, otherwise she’s unsure what would still be intact down there. Lube or prep time didn’t matter to her in that moment, but it sure as hell matters to her now, after getting a taste of the kind of wear and tear just testing out those baby steps could put on her body. Her lower half aches, and her knees are still annoyingly weak and trembly when she walks. As much as she wanted it — truly, truly wanted it in that moment — Shauna was right to deny her. The massage was the right idea, too. She hasn’t had one since high school, which is maybe something she’ll have to change down the line. She could certainly take more of having Shauna’s hands on her.

Jackie’s unspeakably grateful, but she doesn’t know how she’d form a thank you for something like this, so she settles for lightly caressing Shauna’s tongue with her own, hoping that conveys the message.

It must convey something because Shauna hums in appreciation and darts closer to nip Jackie’s lip, briefly spurred on. She leaves Jackie dizzy when she pulls back.

”Wait, let’s not waste this.” Shauna chuckles, leaning away to speedily take another hit before it burns down. Her cheeks hollow with the movement. There’s the slightest rise of her chest, and her navy bra appears stark black against the incoming moonlight.

”Sure.” Jackie replies, swallowing her awe and accepting the joint with clumsy fingers.

”Y’know,” Shauna says, leaning back on her elbows casually, the slim lines of her stomach stretched and on display, “it’s fun having you check me out.”

”You’re conceited. I’m high, I was just zoning out.”

”You ‘zone out’ in the direction of my tits a lot, then.”

Coughing, Jackie tilts away and holds a fist in front of her face, mostly just to hide her blush. “You’re seeing things. You should be worried you’re going blind.”

Shauna rolls her eyes and says in her sarcastic way, “I’ll let my doctor know about it.”

They finish smoking the last of it together, chatting just like that, teasing without escalating anything past a stolen kiss or two. The awareness that at least one of them needs to be mentally present for the delivery guy keeps them relatively behaved. Their biggest crime is shaping up to be having the giggles, around the time someone knocks, both of them caught in laughing fits. It’s been more than a half hour by then, and a pleasing fog has settled into her head, making the noise distant. The door seems a million miles away. Jackie’s sort of dreading having to get up, but Shauna’s on her feet before she can make the effort.

”I’ve got it, don’t worry.” Shauna squeezes her shoulder in passing.

It’s probably for the better. Jackie’s barely dressed. Just her pale, green underwear set and the flannel she plans to use as coverage while she eats. Shauna at least tugs on a shirt as she’s strolling over, picking it up without looking to check whether it’s hers or Jackie’s first.

Jackie watches her talk to the tired-sounding delivery boy for only a minute before she returns, plastic takeout bag dangling from proud fingers.

“Bon appétit.”

Shauna drops into the same spot she was occupying and sets to work tearing open the bag to give Jackie her food. She lays out utensils while Jackie does something similar with the napkins, spreading them so they can act as place mats for she and Shauna to eat on top of.

Weirdly, Jackie is convinced she can actually eat this. Maybe it’s the weed, but the salad is also mostly just lettuce and chicken, which she’s never heard of anyone getting fat off of, plus there’s only a tiny portion of dressing on the side. She stabs one of the white, plastic forks in after mixing it altogether and puts it into her mouth, chewing gradually.

”How are your tacos?” Jackie asks, looking over to see that Shauna is already busy with her second. “Good, I’m guessing.”

”Sort of the best tacos I’ve ever had.”

”I think you’re just high.”

”Could be.” Shauna muses, sucking the grease off the tip of her finger. “Or maybe it’s the best taco I’ve ever had. What happened to you? You used to be an optimist.”

”I’m still an optimist.” Jackie defends. “I just doubt knock-off Taco Bell is going to produce high-end cuisine.”

”Damn, this does look like Taco Bell, doesn’t it?” Shauna holds the taco in her hands up to the light for both of them to see, and Jackie scoots closer curiously, transfixed by the look of the shell.

Funnily, lounging there, laughing, inspecting the taco together, she thinks she couldn’t be happier in the world.

 

*

 

After dinner they make out lazily without moving from the floor, ignoring the pressing need for sleep so they can spend the last few drops of the night (technically morning) intertwined. They stay that way for what seems like no time at all and also for what seems like forever, like they’re satisfying some eternal urge and also like they’re not fulfilling a single thing. It’s funny, no matter how much they kiss, there’s always this great, open cavern of want inside of Jackie that only gapes wider the longer they go. It’s paradoxical, but what’s a girl to do? She herself can’t grasp the hunger she has for Shauna, the amount of genuine need that courses through her whenever she feels Shauna so much as breathe.

Shauna exhales, and it scatters along the tops of her cheeks, her nose. She inhales, and it goes inside of her lungs, her throat.

The thought that she could have this kiss, languid and deep, anytime she asks delights her. There’s nowhere else Shauna should be but here. Nowhere else she should be but with her.

“This is surprisingly comfortable.” Jackie confesses instead of saying something crazy like so when can we have our children?

”Mhm.” Shauna agrees contentedly. “Do you want to sleep here?”

The I’ll hold you goes unspoken but is present there in the room.

Jackie nods. “Yeah. Don’t wanna move.”

”Me either.” Shauna replies, fingers brushing her face. There are silverlight freckles on her knuckles, in the creases between her middle and ring finger.

Jackie grins, then grins even wider when Shauna leans down and cups her jaw, bringing their heads closer together for a kiss so delightfully smooth it feels as if it belongs in a movie.

*

 

Waking in the early hours of the morning, Jackie isn’t confused to discover she’s not alone on the floor. It already feels natural to have another body there, and she seeks it out gladly. Snuggling her head against the warm, sturdy form underneath her, she smiles once her nose catches the familiar smell of her best friend, the one that she repeatedly failed to wash out of her bedspread, couch, and clothes at home.

It’ll probably be the same when Shauna leaves after today. There’ll be no point in washing anything. Her scent will linger in every inch of the room long past the point when they both die.

But for now, Jackie doesn’t have to think of that. For now, she can just revel in how comfortable Shauna is, how soft, how perfectly molded for her, and think of the opposite of death: the next twenty-four hours-ish of her life.

There’ll be hugs, kisses, and cuddles, yes, but also a trip to the library, a tour around campus, and of course, a movie, since Shauna is her favorite watching buddy. They haven’t done that in such a long time.

She’s looking forward to it so much that she unconsciously curls tighter around, enough that it actually wakes Shauna up, the body below her beginning to stir. “Go back to sleep, Jax.”

“Mm, no, we’ve got an agenda.”

“What agenda?”

“Class, the library, a movie…”

She expects Shauna to grumble about it, but to her surprise, Shauna’s response is only a sleepy, accepting sigh. “Okay. I also saw a nice park on the way in. Maybe we can add visiting that to the list?”

A romantic stroll through the park? “Sure, why not? Could be fun.”

Secretly, Jackie’s elated.

”We’ll go,” Shauna yawns, tightening her arms snugly around Jackie, “after ten more minutes.”

”Kay.” Jackie mumbles.

Ten minutes turns to twenty which turns to thirty which turns to Jackie slinking down Shauna’s pliant, sleep-addled body, doing away with the underwear pointlessly clinging to her hips, and eating her out for long enough that she entirely loses track.

Jackie’s head empties of all thought except what’s slick and swollen and grinding against her mouth. The restless hips and the twitching, pearly pink bud. It’s a good thing Shauna isn’t the one who has to follow directions in this relationship because she can’t stay still to save her life, especially as her moans rise, bucking hard and smearing her wetness nearly everywhere on Jackie’s face. It’s dripping from Jackie’s whole chin-lips-nose area while Jackie cleans her up, nuzzling against her cunt.

“Don’t you have class?” Shauna pants as Jackie kisses reverently along each damp thigh, leaving her own little bitten marks.

She wonders, does Shauna like this as much as she does? Is reminding her of class just an excuse? Is she even doing a good job at this? It’s not like she has much experience to base a guess off of.

”Not yet. Besides…” Jackie licks her lips, hesitates. “I think you should sit on my face again.”

Shauna’s eyes go dark. Jackie’s body shivers in the eclipse of them. That indomitable brown. She looks down and feels more than sees Shauna’s hand tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the pads of warm fingers lingering.

When Shauna speaks, her words are so low that they instantly erase any doubts Jackie had about the desire there. “I think you make the best suggestions.”

It takes them a long time to make it out of the room.

Once they reach the point where they finally do, dressing hurriedly and jostling each other out the door with eyes on the clock, they head right on into campus. Shauna follows behind, not close enough to touch but close enough for Jackie to know doing so is on her mind. Her attention coats Jackie how water droplets cling to skin, beaded all over. It’s addictive.

Jackie is disappointed, having to leave Shauna behind for the drab lecture hall. The last glimpse she’s able to get of Shauna is her waving from outside, standing against the light, Newark wind with a book and a faded, jean jacket hanging off of her.

The material they’re learning about in class is around eighty-seven percent understandable to her, which she figures isn’t too bad of a score. Actually, it’s kind of the most she could hope for when it comes to economics. She sits in the middle, where she can see the board without looking like a slacker or a nerd, and genuinely attempts to focus, gazing past the heads of her peers. This is her education, after all. She wants to come out of the next four years with something worthwhile to show for it.

Although, that doesn’t stop her mind from returning to Shauna as soon as class is over. Jackie did her part and paid attention like a competent college student, and now fair is fair. Work is over, playtime has begun.

Walking to Shauna, strolling to her through the mild crowd of exiting students, Jackie’s skin hums from the pleasure of being looked at, seen, viewed. She can feel Shauna’s eyes on her before she even gets the chance to unearth herself from everyone, as if they’re especially attuned to Jackie.

Thank god, she’s not one to be unprepared, and the outfit she picked for the day fits her smartly, the skirt and the blouse hopefully reading as fashionably adult (rather than “old lady” adult or “child playing dress up” adult). She hopes Shauna looks at her and imagines College Jackie as someone who could be reasonably put together outside of her eating disorder, someone who no longer needed to cough when she smoked or be burped when she drank. Someone who, in short, could handle herself.

“There you are.” Jackie greets, stopping in front of where Shauna’s lying. She flicks some hair out of her face artfully, just like she planned. College Jackie: gorgeous, mature, organized. 

“Here I am.” Shauna carved out a nice section of the quad for herself to wait on, resting on her stomach atop a sunny block of grass. She tilts her head, squints upwards at Jackie. ”How was class?”

”Long. Boring without you.”

”I don’t know if I should be sorry or glad to hear that.” Shauna tells her, standing. “Do we have time to go to the park? We could walk and talk?”

”Definitely, let’s head there. You can tell me all about that gigantic book you were reading.”

”It’s a normal-sized book.”

”That’s what you say.” Jackie elbows her side. “Go on. Start the walking and talking.”

”Fine, okay. So, basically, there’s this fictional castle, Winterfell, that the king in the story visits in order to name the Hand of the King, which is like a right hand man for royalty. And he’s—“

”Jackie?”

A third voice interrupts them out of the blue, putting a pin in Shauna’s adorable, nerd spiel. High and distinctly feminine, it could only belong to—

“Taylor, hi.” Jackie says.

Kill her now.

“Jackie, it’s so good to see you!” Taylor replies in her perpetually bright tone, shooting forward fast enough that the teardrop earrings dangling from her head clink and tremble. (They’re lovely, by the way. Jackie would absolutely die for them, if she wasn’t currently dying on the inside.)

Touchy, for as long as Jackie has known her, Taylor always goes straight for the hug. Which most likely explains what happened that night. Being pressed against her, even just for that brief, hey-girl-hey moment, sends Jackie back to the party, back to your last name is my first name and you’re really pretty and more drunken babble from their drunken mouths until they were tongue-tied, literally. Most of the taste of that night was washed away by glittery bile, but she still remembers some of it. That other thirteen percent.

”You, too.” Uncomfortable heat flows through Jackie, and she becomes vividly aware of Shauna standing right beside her, as she steps back.

”What have you been up to?”

”Oh, this and that.”

”Who’s you’re friend?” Taylor prompts and okay, yeah, this is happening now. No more avoiding it.

”This is Shauna.” Jackie lays a hand on her arm, ignoring the needles swarming her gut. There’s no real reason this has to be awkward, right? It’s simply her girlfriend meeting one of her friends, which had to happen sometime. “We went to high school together. She’s visiting for a couple days.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Shauna says, friendlily enough, not seeming to suspect anything is amiss.

”Same here.” Taylor gives Shauna an obvious once-over, which, while awkward, isn’t the worst thing that could be happening. At least Shauna is free of the messy, disheveled appearance she wore this morning and isn’t noticeably sporting any hickeys. Unlike Jackie, who survives by a well-placed scarf. “Did you two play soccer together?”

Refraining from groaning, Jackie instead shares a knowing glance with Shauna, who answers: “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take a genius to see where this line of questioning is heading. They’re probably going to be getting this sort of thing for the rest of their lives.

Shockingly, Taylor’s interest in Shauna spikes, and she automatically shifts to face her, bombarding her with a spontaneous round of twenty questions. “Did you guys meet that way?”

”No, we’ve been friends since… forever, I guess.”

”Did you play all the same sports growing up?”

”Pretty much, yeah. Whatever Jackie chose.”

”Uh-huh, and how long are you staying?”

”I’m planning on leaving tomorrow.”

”Cool, and then it’s back to…”

”Brown.”

”Extra cool.” Taylor nods. “Jackie, you should bring her around Delta Phi. The girls would want to meet her. You’re always so mysterious about your high school friends.”

“That’s cause there’s not very much to tell.” Jackie shrugs, forcing nonchalance into her smile. There are lots of rumors about her former soccer team that she’d rather not drum up with anyone, especially when their names have just started to clear from the headlines. “Shauna and Nat are mostly the only ones I talk to. We all went to different schools and grew apart like most people do.”

“Really, you never have reunions or anything?”

”Nope.” Clutching Shauna’s arm tighter, Jackie steps to the left and begins subtly leading them both onto the pathway. “Anyway, we’ve got to go, Taylor. We’re seeing a movie, and we’re late.”

”See you, then, and have fun while you’re here! Remember you’re invited to Delta Phi!” Taylor calls after them as they leave, fast-walking in the direction of somewhere that is not here.

They get about a block away in awkwardly dragging silence. Jackie is barely able to register it. Thanks to the buzzing in her ears, everything just sounds like white noise. However, she can still tell Shauna is peaking at her, watching out of the corner of her eye.

”Why’d you lie about the movie?” Shauna turns to her curiously, once they’re a good distance from Taylor. Although the question isn’t asked with any hostility, Jackie fiddles with her sleeves, not wanting to meet her prying stare. “She seemed alright.”

”She is. It’s just, um…”

”Um?”

Shauna knows.

Jackie grasps that with startling, instantaneous clarity in that second, even if how is unclear. It’s all in the quickness of the um, the assuredness, ready to lead her to her own confession. Maybe it’s her crimson ears or her uneasy voice, giving her away, but Shauna certainly, most definitely knows, and there’s no point in trying lying.

”I never told you…” Jackie starts sheepishly, “and it’s pretty funny, I guess, but we actually kissed at a party once. Me and Taylor.”

Shauna is quiet for a moment. Then, slightly bothered, as if hearing this is a nuisance: “Okay, why are you telling me this?”

Her tone surprises Jackie. Taken aback, Jackie stammers. “I don’t know. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah, but we weren’t dating then, so why should it matter?” Shauna says slightly forcefully and, before Jackie can decipher what’s weird about that response: “I mean, you wouldn’t really want to know if I hooked up with anyone, would you?”

Excuse me?

“Yes, I would.”

“But why would it matter if we weren’t dating?” 

They cross the empty street ahead of them, traveling towards the wide, sunlit entrance of the park that would probably be absolutely gorgeous, if Jackie could bring herself to enjoy gazing at it right now. Something about what Shauna just asked and how she asked it settles oddly in Jackie’s head. Suspicion needling her mind, Jackie slows as they’re entering, her feet stopping them near the welcome sign.

What if she isn’t the only one currently burning up in the hot seat? What if Shauna also kissed someone else before they got together? Worse, what if Shauna slept with them?

“I’d just want to know.” Jackie explains, staring seriously at Shauna. People bustle by. She waits, heart in her throat. It doesn’t help that Shauna isn’t quite holding eye contact with her. That if Shauna lies now, it wouldn’t be the first time. “For honesty’s sake.”

Shauna stands tense for a beat before sighing. “I have to tell you something.”

Jackie braces herself. “Okay.”

“Fuck, alright.” Shauna does the same, swearing, as if in preparation of her admission. Wisps of hair whirl around her face. “You know how we were joking around the other day about you being the first girl I hooked up with? You weren’t really. The truth is, I actually slept with a few girls before you.”

There it is. The shotgun barrel in the heart.

”A few girls?”

”Women. A few women.” Experienced, adult women, not clumsy, fumbling girls like you. “Just some I met in random, gay bars, mostly when I was drunk. No one that ever mattered but, you said you wanted to know, so. I’m telling you.”

”Why didn’t you say anything to me before?” She hears herself ask. The white noise is back, like a faraway storm, raging in the background, coming closer and closer.

”Because,” Shauna struggles, frowning through her own explanation, “we weren’t dating then, and they meant nothing. I can genuinely barely remember their names.”

There are a thousand questions swirling in Jackie’s head, such as: why wait to tell me? Why even do it at all? Were they prettier than me? Better than me? Did you like them the same? Did you think about me while you were with them? Don’t you know we’ve always been dating? That it’s never over with us, that we only ever hit pause?

But.

She does see Shauna’s logic. Technically, Jackie had a whole boyfriend during their unnecessarily long “pause” period. It was never strictly exclusive. And this is kind of an out for kissing Taylor… and having sex with Brian…

Jackie swallows, closes her eyes, and asks: ”Is there anything else?”

Shauna looks as if she’s considering whether or not she should say anything more.

”I gave them all a fake name.” She admits, after a second, with visible reluctance. “Or, I guess not fake, but someone else’s.”

”Okay, and so that helped make it less personal…?”

”No. Well, yes, but I mean, I, I would have you on my mind during and I—“

Abruptly, it clicks for Jackie. ”You gave those random sluts my name?”

”Look—“

”Oh my god.”

”They weren’t all sluts, Jackie.”

“Ew, and now you’re defending them?” She exclaims, stepping away. There’s a very real chance she might throw up.

”No, I’m just saying—“

”Stop saying.”

Ignoring her words, Shauna pulls her over to a dingy water fountain posted off to the side, where there’s less people shuffling. Jackie may be angry, but she can’t find it in herself to put up much resistance as Shauna takes her arms and leans in, whispering in a hushed, meaningful tone. “I get you’re mad, okay, but is it so weird that I liked having some piece of you there in the room with me? Having your name in my ears, thinking of you during? It’s almost the same thing as what you did with that frat guy.”

Brian. Jackie knew he would come up eventually, and it’s still about the last topic she wants to dive into.

”You thought of me during?” She asks instead. That confirms at least one of her suspicions.

”I’ve never not thought of you.” Shauna insists.

Despite her incredulous anger, the confession does predictably have an effect on Jackie. Knowing she’s had just as much of a lasting impact on Shauna’s mind as Shauna’s had on hers. She can’t really make a solid argument when they weren’t officially dating, and when she did the same (though apparently to a lesser extent).

Mostly, Jackie is just upset to know they’ve stumbled on another lie. She doesn’t want their relationship to exist as a field of landmines. “That’s very romantic, Shauna, but what would be really romantic is if you promised to be totally honest with me going forward, now that we’re dating.”

”Okay.” Shauna nods. “No more secrets, I promise.”

”Great.” Jackie straightens with finality, causing Shauna’s rigid shoulders to sink, relieved. “Let’s not waste the day. It’s nice out.”

As they start continuing walking, Jackie sneakily juts her foot out and kicks Shauna’s ankle, getting her to stumble slightly over her feet, chuckling in surprise.

”Ow. What was that for?”

”Giving me shit about Brian when I told you. Now, keep going.”

As they walk further inside, Jackie does her best to remind herself that the past is the past. This is the present, and the present is a fine, clear day with Shauna trailing along beside. No need to rain on it.

The park is moderately crowded, old ladies walking with their arms threaded, kids happily kicking rubber balls around, joggers sweating shamelessly through their workout shirts. Jackie enjoys the afternoon breeze that’s not too strong and the kindly feel of the sun in such a wide, open space as they pass the swing set and play structure. They meander past the slides, the bee-swarmed bushes, and the thicket of pink, blue, and orange flowers. Amongst them is a cluster of poppies, which Shauna dips down to pick at once she spots, plucking one of the beautiful, upright ones.

”For you. Since you’re the only one I care about.” Shauna delicately slides the stem behind Jackie’s ear like a kiss. “Are they still your favorite?”

”Yeah, I didn’t think you remembered.” It’s not something she thinks she’s mentioned since sixth grade.

Shauna just shrugs and encourages her forward, one hand seeking the small of her back for an appropriately platonic, friendly touch. “That’s what happens when you attend big, geek schools. You memorize everything.”

Standing there, smiling dorkily in the outstretching sunlight, Shauna looks so adorable, so dreamy, Jackie isn’t even embarrassed to be using the word. If she could turn back the clock, she’d likely be plastering posters of Shauna on her walls instead of the Backstreet Boys. Or, more accurately, keeping them hidden beneath her pillow.

No more secrets. Could that even be possible when it comes to them? There’s always been some element of dishonesty to their relationship. Jackie hiding her insecurity, Shauna secretly masking her resentment. They’ve never really been truly, genuinely bare with each other, but the idea of it is heady. Being completely naked with Shauna, letting two become one. She hates for them to be apart.

The singular downside to this outing is that they can’t kiss or touch the way they want to. She’d like to be able to press her lips to Shauna’s cheek and hold her hand, but just walking alongside her and listening to her ramble is more than okay, too. Jackie loves hearing Shauna talk, loves hearing her voice grow quiet in concentration as she explains to Jackie about direwolves and Ovid and Victorian Pygmalion and a million other things Jackie can’t comprehend and has no real desire to. She wants to memorize Shauna’s voice, her lips, how her mouth moves and the way the words contort her face. That’s all. That’s perfect.

 

*

 

The trip to the library is a little less wholesome with Shauna stuffing Jackie’s sodden panties into her pocket before hungrily pinning her against one of the more deserted stacks. Jackie reaches her peak somewhere deep in the nonfiction section, twitching and trembling remarkably silently by chewing hard on a wooden shelf, which is another first for her.

 

*

 

Lunch is a roast beef sandwich Shauna finishes for her, when she can’t. Shauna eats that bit of Jackie’s portion, then a second plate from this cute bistro they come upon while traipsing around. Seeing Shauna’s cheeks swell with bite after bite, like an overzealous chipmunk, is incredibly endearing, even if the same bloat in her stomach is killing her slowly.

 

*

 

Campfire Tales, Lolita, the Fifth Element, Picture Perfect, Fools Rush In, and I Know What You Did Last Summer are all playing at the movie theater in town that evening. Jackie goes with Picture Perfect because she likes Jennifer Aniston, but the choice ultimately ends up not mattering, since they spend half the movie kissing frantically in the handicapped stall. The other half is spent draped over each other in the seclusion of the back row, cuddling as close as the dark will allow. They even split one Diet Coke, two matching, red straws sticking out of the round cap.

As the night dwindles down, their agenda dwindles down with it, until all that’s left on the list is a nice walk back underneath the star-speckled night sky. Hips brushing, elbows hooked together, laughing and talking over the movie, which Shauna found cheesy and Jackie found charming.

They take a detour while passing by some shops and restaurants, noticing a tiny, narrow alleyway nestled in shadow that no hormonal teenagers could resist. There’s practically a ‘come fool around here’ sign hanging above it. Slipping inside for a reprieve, their mischievous giggles morph into heavy pants and sighs, their sweet, candy and soda kisses growing dirtier. Jackie suppresses the whine in her throat as Shauna pinches through fabric to play with her nipple, writhing up to offer more of herself, her back arching against the chilly surface of the brick.

She attempts to keep an eye on the entryway. If anyone were to stumble upon them right now, she would look like a total slut, not to mention a lesbian.

She’d look like—

You look like you’re dying. Shauna’s snide remark, tossed out pettily in their last argument, rings in her head. You look like you’re dying, you look like you’re dying, you look like you’re dying. Except Shauna isn’t touching her like she’s dying, isn’t kissing or pressing against her like she’s dying. So, maybe it’s a cute type of dying, like Sally from the Nightmare Before Christmas. Yeah, Jackie could see that. She would leave an attractive corpse, clean and empty on the inside, with sharp, sunken beauty on the outside—

“How did she kiss you?” Shauna briefly breaks away to breathe out, the puffs of air coming from her lips hot and demanding. The sight of her shiny, spit-slick mouth empties Jackie of thought. It takes her a second to grasp who ‘she’ even means. “Like this?”

The force of the following kiss knocks Jackie onto unsteady feet. She grips Shauna’s biceps, wobbling. Her heart runs wild in her ears.

“No.”

Another one.

”Like this?”

Another one.

”No.”

One more, and Jackie is collapsing breathlessly against the wall behind her, wrecked, what must be every star in the sky sparkling pure inside her chest.

”No. No one kisses me like that.” She whispers, just before Shauna drags her in to do it again.

Like magic. Every single time.

Chapter 15

Notes:

Sorry for the wait!

That night, they refuse to separate. They stay fused together — attempting to turn what’s temporary into something permanent — stubbornly joined, whether it be by their hands or lips or a million different other places. Shauna even carries her up the stairs.

“Are you sure no one can tell?” Jackie asks a fourth time, clinging to Shauna’s shoulders, and thinking every now and then of her missing panties, which are stuffed into one of Shauna’s many pockets.

“I’m sure. Trust me.” Shauna smooths down Jackie’s dress once more for good measure, as they walk inside the building, carefully making their way down the hall. “I wouldn’t let anyone else see.”

That Jackie can count on, at least.

“Don’t stop touching me.” She pleads, as soon as they’re alone again. Stumbling into the room and immediately towards the bed, feet tumbling blindly until they’re landing in a hungry, writhing heap on a mattress that already smells of the two of them.

”Alright, sweetie. Alright.” Shauna soothes into her mouth, lowering a hand between her wriggling hips. “Lift up. Let’s get these off.” 

Not needing to be told twice, Jackie hurriedly raises herself a helpful inch off the mattress, whining when her speed is rewarded with all remaining fabric being roughly stripped from the lower half of her body. Both her skirt and panties are carelessly discarded in the blink of an eye, leaving her cunt perfectly bare, weakly clenching from the aftershocks of her last orgasm, yet somehow still asking for more. Shauna drags a finger down her drooling slit — the puffy, pink line of it swollen after the day’s activities — slowly, that single touch pushing Jackie to shudder. Spreading her legs further, she arches and offers more of herself up, visibly desperate in the way she knows Shauna likes to see.

(Let’s just say most of it isn’t pretending.)

“Come on.” She begs, when that finger fails to do anything but glide torturously around.

Shauna smirks down at her. ”Sure you aren’t tired?”

She vehemently nods her head, trying to suck in the familiar pad that teases her entrance. ”Yeah. Want it.”

”Of course you do.” Shauna sinks deep inside her cunt at once, burrowing in one smooth, slick glide, easier than cutting warm butter with Jackie this wet. Beginning thrusting, Shauna leans low and speaks low, under the unholy noise ripping from Jackie’s throat. “You know, you’ve got the neediest cunt in the world. I’m gonna miss it when I go.”

”Shauna—!”

—please don’t go, stay with me forever.

Jackie’s mouth falls open, everything striking so much more intensely than she thought it would. She underestimated how sensitive going at it all day could make her, especially with how forceful Shauna sometimes is.

(Not that it’s anything she doesn’t want. In fact, she’d rather have Shauna rougher, faster, harder, whatever gets the most bruises to linger longer.)

Arousal drips out of her, leaking freely as Shauna starts working her open. “Love knowing you’re always this wet for me.”

Jackie squirms ridiculously on top of the sheets, not denying it, just whining. “Have you — have — fuck. Have—“

”Say it.” Shauna snaps. “You’re not too dumb to speak already, are you?”

”Oh god. Have you, um, had sex with — with enough girls to — to confirm that?”

That actually gets Shauna to slow down, a faintly unhappy twist coming to her mouth. “Are you seriously asking me about other women right now, Jackie? We’re literally having sex.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want an answer.” Jackie rocks insistently against Shauna’s hand, which has gone frustratingly still.

“It wasn’t that many girls, Jax, and even if it was like a hundred—“

”Was it?”

”You’re missing my point.” Shauna thrusts another finger into Jackie, pushing it in rough but curling it gradually. “None of them mattered to me. Just you.”

That possessiveness satisfies some hole inside of Jackie… and not the one currently being penetrated. The one that needs to feast on Shauna’s love for her to survive. Shauna fills her in every way possible, sustains her in every way possible. Getting to feel Shauna’s whisper skim featherlight against the shell of her ear drives her well past wild.

”Love it when you say things like that. Love hearing you talk.” She pants heavily, gasping as Shauna presses steadily upwards, massaging her inner walls, targeting her where she’s most sensitive. The ache thats been plaguing her the entire way home gives underneath Shauna’s touch, her damp thighs slackening wider apart, the whole of her stomach staining pink, as she rocks down into each thrust, her jiggling breasts slightly sticky with sweat, the sore, plucked nipples at their peaks straining.

The lean lines on Shauna’s forearm shift as she works up a rhythm, muscles flexing beneath pale skin, fingers expertly fucking Jackie into a sloppy, heaving mess. Life recently has been nothing but one, long sober streak, and Jackie wants to drink herself drunk on the sweet liquor of indulgence.

”Yeah?” Shauna husks, words hushed, hot, and undeniably intimate. “Me too. I love how horny you get over a little name-calling. So easy. I could stay inside you for the rest of my life.”

”Do it — I, oh, I fucking dare you.“

“I will.” Shauna laughs breathily. ”Bossy thing, aren’t you? I like it. I’d bet money you’re close.“

Delirious pleasure swells inside of Jackie’s gut, knowing how much she’s pleased Shauna, knowing she’ll be kept, knowing she gets to keep her.

It’s a good bet. To very little surprise, she’s teetering on the edge of her next climax quick, egging Shauna further with her helplessly grasping hands, which reach for Shauna’s shoulders, arms, and wrists, not a care about being too needy. She rubs against Shauna, same as an overly clingy pet, practically thrashing for it.

If Shauna wants bossy, she’ll give it to her. ”Say you like me better than them.”

Shauna pulls her hair, creating another high, sharp spike of whimpers. ”I like you better than anyone. My favorite little slut. You gonna come all over my fingers?”

”Yes, yes, Shauna, yeah—“ Jackie’s voice rises into a string of incoherent babbles, and then a scream, and then she comes so hard she sees stars exploding behind her eyes.

While Jackie’s still riding the crashing waves of her orgasm, Shauna takes both of her trembling legs and hooks them over each shoulder, undeterred.

“You’re not done.” She seals her lips right onto Jackie’s clit. Jackie cries.

Shauna shows her what everything looks like blowing up that night: the stars, the heavens, cloud nine.

Afterwards, she lies boneless and still, like an animal playing dead, while Shauna noses over her, lapping lightly at the sweat collecting across her chest. She might as well be residing on a different planet.

”What do I taste like?” Jackie asks, watching Shauna’s tongue dip out to caress her.

”Sweat.” Shauna deadpans.

Jackie halfheartedly shoves her. ”You’re supposed to say something romantic.”

”Sweat and roses?”

”You suck.”

”Sure, but you love when I do.” Shauna reminds her, sniffing gently along a purple-tinted bruise, a tad more thoughtful and quiet than usual. “Speaking of, how do you feel about me buying us some toys to use over break?”

“Like what?”

”Like I’ve already got a vibrator I want to use on you.”

”You do?” Jackie figures she would’ve heard the buzzing over the phone, but who knows, maybe they make them super quiet these days. The idea of her mom hearing her pretty much dissuaded her from buying one entirely in high school.

”Yeah, but I left it at home when school started. I’ll have to find time to introduce you two.” Shauna nuzzles beneath her jaw, and Jackie shivers.

Them having sex is already overwhelming enough but with a toy? She’d be lucky not to break.

”Okay, maybe handcuffs?” She suggests. “The scarf is nice, but I’d like something more official.”

Shauna nods. “We can do that. What about a strap-on?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to fuck you.” Jackie responds, solely so she can see Shauna blink in momentary bewilderment, attempting to formulate a suitable response. ”Kidding, kidding, but could you actually, um…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t get something too big.” Shauna interrupts, likely trying to reassure her, kissing the marked streak of skin beneath her lips. It’s a sweet gesture but not helpful in this context.

”Actually, I wanted to ask the opposite.” She proudly gets herself to say. “Something on the bigger side.”

There are a million explanations Jackie could give about her request, none of them she’s comfortable saying aloud. She likes feeling full. She likes being stretched. She loves it when her cunt feels as if there’s no room for anything in it but Shauna.

Shauna, whose eyes have gone dark and glazed.

”If that’s what you want.” She says thickly. From her tone, Jackie can sense she wants it, too. “Could we get a paddle?”

”Like the ones they use for ping pong? Why would we need…” Catching Shauna’s drift, Jackie pinks, and in a quiet voice adds: “Sure, I’m for it.”

The ideas only escalate from there.

It’s Shauna that brings up most of them. “We should buy a flogger.”

“What, like they use to whip horses?” Jackie flips a slightly horrified look onto her.

“Well, yeah…” Shauna admits, keeping her touch tender, stroking along Jackie’s skinny sides, tapping the ribs, as if some terrible separation might soon impend. Scooting closer, she pecks Jackie’s jaw twice. “But obviously I’m not gonna treat you like a horse. I’ll be gentle.”

That could very easily be a lie (another one).

”I know that.” Jackie says, laying her hands over her eyes and exhaling. “It’s just I’m not sure that I want you to be.”

This incites another lively makeout session that goes on until Shauna’s silky soft mouth is swollen deep, deep red. Sure, the idea of being whipped is scary, but if it’s small and if it’s light and if it’s Shauna, then she’s willing to give it a try, particularly because it’s so obviously getting Shauna worked up.

“You don’t know what a spreader bar is, do you?” Shauna questions, just after letting Jackie suck on her tongue.

Honestly, Jackie has to laugh to keep herself from humping Shauna on the spot. She’s having trouble paying attention. ”No, but you can spread these legs whenever you like, if you’re getting my hint.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You know I am.” Jackie grins, gazing happily at Shauna as she rolls her eyes. “What’s a spreader bar?”

”You’d like it. It holds your legs apart for me, so you don’t have to worry about it while I touch you. Like now, see?” As if to make her point, Shauna snakes her hand between Jackie’s thighs, noticing them wrestling to push themselves together in search of relief. “You okay? We can always take a break from talking.”

Jackie shakes her head. That’s the last thing she wants, she’s just finding it difficult verbalizing what the first thing is. “No, I have one more ask.”

”Tell me.” Nibbling her throat, Shauna calls her name in a patient, dulcet tone. “Jackie.”

It’s going to suck if Shauna doesn’t go for this, but why wouldn’t she? Jackie’s agreed to pretty much everything she’s put on the table. 

”I was thinking maybe a collar? Like, uh, you remember the one in that video Nat showed us junior year? Something like that, just to wear when we’re alone, as a reminder that we’re, that I’m… that we do what we do. I wouldn’t wear it in public or anything, it’d just be something for us.”

Quieting Jackie’s nerves with a simple kiss, Shauna grazes their lips together soothingly. “I’ll give it to you as a Thanksgiving present.”

Desire overcomes Jackie, laying waste to her in such a way that she doesn’t realize she’s grinding into Shauna until she sees the clothed thigh splitting her legs and feels the powerful pulse there.

“Oh, wow, okay.” She gasps, explosions and natural disasters and freight trains plowing through her, everything inside of her seeming to burst. “You’re gonna have to fuck me now. No way around it.”

Shauna wastes no time rocking into her, letting her grab two inviting handfuls of defensive midfielder ass as they begin to rut against each other again, just as hungrily, swept in the same hurried hurricane. She curls her hands into Shauna’s ample backside, and Shauna bucks forward uncontrollably, driving her into the springing mattress, the slide of their skin tumbling into a consistent melody. Shakily, they time their fall off the cliff together with Jackie snaking a hand down to take care of Shauna, jerking fingers over a dark, thinly hairy mound and slippery clit.

Shauna gets so guttural when she comes, so animal, almost growling, so that every hair on Jackie’s body stands erect, every muscle going submissive and pliable purposefully, every atom in her body put in perfect use. A sense of safety arrives at meeting Shauna’s commands, even when they’re nonverbal. She wants to be the toy that Shauna can’t help but get off with. Her girl. Her favorite little slut.

She’s past content when she’s like this, held tight against Shauna’s soft chest until their hearts stop pounding. Licking a stripe up Shauna’s throat while she can, Jackie completes the trail with teeth and tongue and drags her into a passionate kiss.

”I love you.” Jackie says, promising to herself that she’ll feel it even after the beating of their hearts ends.

Shauna touches their foreheads together. It’s beyond euphoria to let her soul mold with its other half this way. ”I love you, too.”

”I love hearing you say it.”

”I know.”

A conversation is had about taking a trip to the bathroom so that they might go for light showers or successfully moisturize at least one limb, but a plan never fully forms between them. They’re lured into staying put by the promise of privacy and Jackie’s diet soda collection, switching off on holding ice cold cans to each other’s cheeks, the drink wetting their flushed spots. Shauna tells her about loser frat guys, fancy cigarettes, stuffy professors, linguist classes, potential bellybutton piercings, Margaret Atwood, dining halls, study abroad programs, TV, until one of them decides to lick one of the condensation droplets from an arm that’s not theirs, and the game kicks on again.

Getting ready to leave in the morning is hell, having to rise from the bed where Shauna had fucked and fucked and fucked her. Prying a barnacle that does not deserve to be pried, they wake and dress in reluctant, slothful increments, a sock here, a belt there, blinking with dry, tired eyes. Neither of them wanted to sleep and abandon the other. That’s why, as Shauna puts on a bra and ties up the string at her waist, Jackie pouts exhaustedly on the sheets and wonders whether an adult can be kidnapped.

”Are you wondering whether an adult can be kidnapped?”

”No, of course not.” She replies, not wanting her remark to stroke Shauna’s inflated ego.

It must do it either way because Shauna looks entirely too pleased with herself as she faces the mirror, the line of her mouth tipping up into that smug smile Jackie simultaneously longs to strangle and ride into high heaven. She’s still shirtless, naked claw marks trailing down her toned shoulder blades brazenly, wearing the pink nail stripes as award medals.

”Whatever you say, but I’m watching my back.” Shauna teases, though she’s barely doing that, preoccupied with choosing a shirt from Jackie’s drawers to borrow.

Jackie takes the challenge for what it is, sitting up. “Uh-huh, sure.”

She pounces on Shauna, jumping off the bed and landing into her arms, thankfully caught first before the shoes or the belt. Jackie tries to catch Shauna mouth to mouth, but misses, ending up squealing as she’s picked up and dropped onto the desk. Shauna follows her happily, nipping around her jaw like she’s something Shauna caught for dinner. She likes that idea, being plucked from a stream by an animal with a set of strong jaws, carried to its lair, preyed on, looked after, skinned down to her bones by its teeth. They still have some minutes left, some fifteen or so minutes, and she needs it, needs Shauna to feed her a final taste of what only firm, reliable hands can do.

Pinned squirming against the wooden surface, wrists anchored down on either side of her spread knees, Jackie is glad to lose the wrestle, but mostly, glad not to have to think, glad to also be able to lose herself again for one small, stolen moment during their playful tussle.

”We have to say goodbye.” Shauna tells her while she slides her silky slick fingers in and out of Jackie’s mouth. “I can’t miss my bus.”

Jackie answers after a carelessly long beat, taking her time licking the primal, bittersweet taste of them off. ”Alright, I’ll stop when you do.”

Shauna misses her bus.

”This is your fault. I’m going to be here for four more hours now.” She semi-complains, after a look at the clock, pretending to be put out while lazily reaching lower, where Jackie is already making it up to her by kneeling. 

”My fault?” Jackie says. “You’re the one that got all grabby.”

”I’ll show you grabby.” Shauna snags her by the hair first, then by her arm, lifting her from where she’s been situated on the floor, dragging her into place, and kissing her soundly. All but giddy, Jackie throws herself in with fervor — messes Shauna’s hair, palms her biceps, squeezes her breasts — the last one causing Shauna to laugh breathlessly.

“What?” Jackie asks, slightly self-conscious.

“Nothing. You do that so much, I wonder if you just want me for my body.”

”I do. That and your big, genius brain. I want smart babies.”

Shauna grins at her in the dim sunlight of the room, clutching her closer. ”You would need them because that’s not how that works.”

”I wish it was.” Jackie admits, moving so her arms can wrap securely around Shauna’s neck. “I’d have your baby.”

It’s true, she would. Anything for a tiny, little being with Shauna’s eyes and her bone structure. Having one used to be a guarantee in her life because her mother did it, but she supposes her plans need to change now that she’s tackling the whole lesbian thing. It’ll always be a dying ember of a dream to her, even if she has to forget about it, even if she’d still brave all the excessive feet swelling and terrible stomach rounding in the world. She’d let herself get totally fat to grow a small piece of Shauna inside her.

”You’re definitely gonna have to say that again.” Shauna groans, as if Jackie’s words are making her weak, a painfully aroused look consuming her face, just before she’s smoothly hefting Jackie into the air and flipping their positions.

Jackie lands flat on her back for about the hundredth time this weekend. “What are you doing?”

Shauna noses the square edge of her jaw, settling enthralling weight above her, righting their hips together. “Trying to get you pregnant before I go.”

Again the thought is stay, don’t go, stay and do the impossible with me, but again she stifles it. Shauna deserves to be at Brown.

Jackie only deserves her for now. ”Try harder.”

 

*

 

Unfortunately, they don’t conceive, but Jackie does find she has slight trouble walking once it comes time, so maybe she is carrying something around in there. They’re forced to abandon the comfy darkness of Jackie’s bedroom for the dewy daylight, shuffling their way through an unwelcome outside world until they reach the spot where Shauna’s leaving. Aka hell, until the rest of the week passes, and it becomes the spot where Shauna is arriving.

Shauna hugs her more than once at the bus stop, since they can’t vigorously say goodbye (the way that they’ve been doing all morning), openly here, a row of possible homophobes watching them from inside the waiting vehicle. It’s filling super slow as people meander their way in, meaning they don’t need to rush yet. Good thing, too. Jackie could gaze at Shauna standing in that dashing, red Rutgers pullover for the rest of her life.

Others mill about, students, employees, passersby of all shades, briskly hustling towards where they need to go, but even with the crowd’s continuous shifting, she only has eyes for one person. Queuing with a downtrodden, windswept Shauna, Jackie imagines that she’s an ailing wife, sending her husband away to war, prepared to be carted around in a romantic, golden locket.

(Although, she neglects to actually say any of this.)

”Say what you want, I still think Mulder and Scully are going to get together.”

”Well, I still don’t.”

”That’s because you’re a pessimist.” She smiles sweetly, picking up Shauna’s left hand, and playing with her fingers lightly. “Why can’t you believe in love, Shipman?”

”I do. You know I do.” Shauna steps closer, the swift air musing her hair. Dark, fluttering, raven’s wings.

Jackie beams, no longer so coy about her motives. ”I know, but I don’t mind being reminded.”

A shout from the bus driver, arguing with some odd-looking man about the transportation of his pet bird, reminds them both the time they have leftover is short. 

”I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” Shauna discreetly squeezes her hand. “Remember to call.”

Jackie clutches back, holding onto the touch. Tiny wildfires seem to spark at the press of their fingers.

”I will.”

How could I forget?

As the line dwindles further, Shauna comes that much closer, almost more than is acceptable. “I mean it.”

”So do I. I’m going to keep doing it every night.” Jackie promises firmly, enjoying Shauna looming over her while she can, the inherent intensity of her girlfriend warming her. Sometimes being looked at by Shauna is like being an ant trapped beneath a smoking microscope. “Good luck on your linguistics exam. Remember you’re smarter and prettier than everybody else there.”

And if you hook up with any of the girls that notice that, I’ll personally fly to Rhode Island to impale them on a stiletto.

Shauna rolls her eyes, sarcastic one last time. “Thanks, I’ll lead with that. Then, everybody will love me.”

Jackie shrugs. “Try it. It worked for me.”

“I’m sure.” Shauna returns her smile. The bus huffs smoke, threatening to startle them apart, but she taps Jackie’s chin to regain her attention. “Hey, you remember I love you. You only have to get through a week.”

“I love you, too…” Jackie replies, emotion strangling her unexpectedly. She doesn’t want to have to get through anything. Never mind the fact that it’s only five days. Clearing her throat, she dramatically steps backwards, jokingly adding: “…in a totally platonic, friendly way.”

”Whatever you like to tell yourself.”

Shauna gets onto the bus still laughing brightly, shaking her hidden grin at the ground, so startling beautiful that for a moment, she’s made entirely of angel dust. Meaning, naturally it’s poof, and then she’s gone.

 

*

 

It would be insane to start praying to the wilderness for Shauna’s safe return after two days, right? She shouldn’t be wanting to kneel down near the trees? Pledge herself to the bear? If only there was an angel on Jackie’s shoulder, pointing her in the right direction, telling her to learn patience and restraint and that not cleaning the towels or sheets because they smell like Shauna is unsanitary.

The first night, she pushes herself somewhere between wallowing and being productive, deciding to complete some of the homework she’d been putting off during Shauna’s visit, while remaining a hermit in her dorm cave. Pillows stacked in the same shape as a miniature cot, blanket stretched over her head, encompassing her into shade. It’s almost bearable.

Except, against all her wishes, someone interrupts the precarious peace she’s built. The phone rings, and it’s not even close to who she wants it to be.

“Hi, mom.” She’s wearing rattier pajamas than what she put on in front of Shauna, leaning against the desk — which somehow jumps from seeming mildly to extremely dirty in an instant, despite the Lysol and Windex she scrubbed across it. No matter how old she gets, whenever her mom calls, she becomes the little girl with mud smeared along her new dress.

“Hi, dear. It’s always so nice to hear from you. I feel like we haven’t had a proper conversation in ages.”

“We spoke last week.”

“And we were supposed to again on Saturday, but you didn’t leave me a ring or a message.” Her mom points out, saccharine sweet.

Jackie plucks at the cord guiltily. “Sorry, I know I should have called.”

“It’s alright, honey. What kept you?”

“Nothing, just my classes.” She lies. “I’ve really been focusing on them lately. I want to hurry and finish up everything before break.”

Technically, it’s not a complete lie. She has been focusing on her classes a lot more now that her sex marathon has made her fall behind, but that’s not information she feels compelled to share with her mother. This weekend was such an intimate exploration of her body that she’s… not exactly ashamed but certainly private about it. Shauna had taken her from a walking, talking, twitching ball of nerves, who couldn’t stomach a single stroke of her hand without coming apart, to a girl (maybe even woman) who could express her wants and genuinely enjoy herself in bed, whether she be giving or receiving. Getting that small amount of confidence was worth every bad grade. Fingers crossed, she can pull her Cs up to Bs before the holidays. 

“That’s our big girl.” Her mom coos. “We’re so proud you’re doing well. Do we need to go over the bus schedule again?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? If you get lost, you could end up missing Thanksgiving.”

Jackie holds back an exasperated noise. “I’m not gonna miss Thanksgiving.”

“That’s what you said about the Father-Daughter Dance and remember how that turned out?”

“Yeah, but I also remember I was twelve.” She almost snaps, and even doing that almost feels horrific, regretful anxiety stirring in her chest as the other line goes uncomfortably silent. “I won’t miss anything. Stop worrying.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” Which sounds more like I’ll wait to say I told you so. “Forget classes, tell me about this sorority of yours. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, all the time.” Jackie’s happy for the topic change. “We do lots of events. Parties, car washes, ice cream socials, mostly stuff for charity.”

This part she can be truthful about, at least. She’s gone to practically everything that landed on a date outside of the sexy frenzy.

”That sounds nice. I know I had a grand time running that schedule during my own years.” Her mom gushes. Jackie is no stranger to mindlessly twiddling her thumbs during these sorority stories, so she’s a little surprised when her mom moves quickly onto the next thing. “Anyway, I don’t have all day, so don’t hold back. Give me the gossip. Have you girls done anything noteworthy with the frats?”

Big surprise, her mom wants to know if she’s found another boyfriend. Since Jackie has broken up with Jeff, she’s lost her partner for dinner parties, cute Christmas cards, virgin piña colada brunches at the country club, and eventually, marriage. A shiny, handsome, well-bred fraternity boy would fill Jeff’s slot nicely but a sad, sadistic, scowling feminist wouldn’t.

“Sometimes, here and there…” She mutters. “Look, I’ve got to go. Rachel wants to go shoe shopping. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jackie rapidly spits out her excuse and is rushing to hang up the phone when she hears her mom’s voice again, halting her before she finishes.

”Wait, Jacqueline.”

”What?”

”Just as a reminder, the first bus begins at Penn Station. If you catch that one, then you hopefully won’t be tripped up by much after because it keeps going from stop to stop. Call again, if you forget anything. Or don’t. I’ll probably call you to check either way, so we’re sure.”

”Okay, mom.” Setting the phone down, Jackie lets her shoulders sag. That went well. Sort of.

The conflicting emotions she’s experiencing regarding her genes mix unpleasantly with today’s breakfast pooling in her stomach. Dining hall egg salad. She’d promised Shauna two “meals” a day, and she’s giving her that, but sadness, anger, worry — it’s all harder to face when her body feels made of flab. All squish, no armor.

Just interacting with her mom over the phone is hard, even though her hickeys and her soft chub are cloaked for the entire length of time. The subtle excitement that usually accompanies her thoughts about returning — strutting through the door like a model, shocking everyone with how beautifully she’s wasted away, showing up as desperately thin as she was at the beginning of the month — isn’t present. What’s she going to do, walk back into the house and say hey, mom, what’s up, in your absence I’ve become fat and also a drunk and a lesbian?

She’d be immediately crucified.

The second night is similarly spent playing catch-up on her studies, pencils, textbooks, and flash cards unspooling messily across her desk. So it’s not so boring, she makes sure everything is pretty to look at, utilizing the multicolored highlighters and glittering pens. Halfway through her study session, Shauna calls, as promised. 

“You haven’t died without me, have you?” Shauna’s easy, poking banter relieves Jackie. “That’s a serious question. I’ve seen your meal plan.”

Jackie barks out a laugh. ”Hey, don’t start. You’re probably already rotting.”

”I’m alive and well, actually. You’re going to have to make me miss you more.”

She thinks Shauna must miss her plenty, after having to sit and listen to her noisily hump her pillow from two hundred miles away.

The third night, Jackie strolls home late after visiting the movie theaters with the girls. Titanic was great, but she couldn’t relate to all the roaring fanfare about Leo’s swooping hair, and the idea of freezing to death was insanely creepy, plus bizarre, to her.

Wouldn’t you just wake up whenever you noticed yourself getting cold? Would you notice or could it be a blessing? Slow, enduring pain, having all those muscles stiffen in increments, or would it happen like a dream, entirely during sleep? Honestly, Jackie doesn’t think she would be mad if she passed in the middle of one of her afternoon naps. Life would be a lot easier if someone spontaneously decided she didn’t have to live it. But then she wouldn’t have Shauna or her sorority or whatever it is she likes.

She’s pondering it while walking back to campus alone, tuckered out from giving a million bye, love yous! It’s late, sky dark, streetlights tinkering above, the town hushed with inactivity. What does she like? She should probably find something, if she’s trying not to let the race for starvation run her life. All the parties and events are fun, but they aren’t hobbies, and they aren’t consistent.

Currently, she’s heading home to handle her economics homework and nibble on a protein bar. Glamourous.

Maybe she could try judo or something. Yoga? Gardening? Debate? Checkers? Short walks off of small bridges?

She’s open to suggestions, which is why on the fourth night, she contacts Nat, who she’s kind of been unconsciously avoiding. Admittedly, she hasn’t decided whether she’s pleased or angered at Nat for meddling in her business, and she’s not sure what she’ll say.

Grey clouds are out when they meet, the heavy air promising eventual rain. Because of the weather, the two of them grab coffee (plus a spot of bourbon from Nat’s flask) and decide to trek around campus for a while, drifting away from the coffee shop holding their steaming, styrofoam cups.

Stuffing her flask into her pocket, Nat turns to Jackie with curiosity and cold bruised cheeks. “How was your weekend?”

The casualty in Nat’s voice is undercut by a thread of knowingness that Jackie spots instantaneously.

Look, it might just be the weekday stress or plain depression or a secret, equally bad, third thing, but she’s not in the mood to dance around anything right now. 

”I know what you did.” She says, calling out the elephant in the room… or on the sidewalk, whatever.

”I didn’t do anything.” Nat lies, reaching over and poking around the high collar of Jackie’s sweater amusedly. “It looks like Shipman did, though, Jesus. Did you tell her it’s kissing, not target practice?”

From an outside perspective, the bruising on her neck is probably extreme, but Shauna obviously wanted to mark her territory (so to speak), and Jackie loves having a reminder of what they did literally branded onto her skin. When she’s alone, she lavishes her fingers over them nothing short of obsessively, same as with Shauna’s digits. When she’s in public, she reluctantly covers them.

She’s been dodging any potential questioning by committing to scarfs and a large amount of concealer near the girls, but Nat she’s decided she can be more lax around, possibly wrongfully. 

”Shush, we didn’t…” Flustered, Jackie shakes her head, batting Nat’s hand away. “It’s none of your business.”

Nat retracts, swallowing a sip of her coffee. ”Fair enough. Did it at least go well?”

”Yeah, it went well. Really well.” She answers as evenly as possible, having her own sip, leaving lip gloss on the rim. The drink borders on too bitter for her, but it’s low calorie, and truly nothing’s worse than the alcoholic preferences of her best friend. Malibu and milk scars you forever.

”So, you fucked.” Nat bluntly and correctly guesses.

“Quiet.” Jackie elbows Nat as she laughs uproariously beside her. “What do you not understand about shutting up?”

“Everything.”

“Ha-ha.” Jackie returns flatly, rolling her eyes until the guffawing dies down. “You know, I was really mad at you a few days ago. Now I just think I should say thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome, I guess.” Nat guides them under a nearby tree so she can quickly top off their cups again. Only a few people are hanging around town that afternoon, most of whom seem to have their own problems to worry about. “This is going better than expected. I thought you might club me in the head.”

“I might’ve. Don’t underestimate me.” Jackie replies, smiling. They walk a little further, warmed by their beverages. “So, what do you even do all day, if you don’t go to Rutgers?”

“You know there’s other stuff in life besides lectures and attending sorority parties, right?”

“I know.” Jackie protests exhaustedly. “I was talking about hobbies. What do you do outside of smoking weed?”

“Smoking weed is a good hobby.” Nat jokes but ends up sighing at Jackie’s unimpressed glance. “I don’t know, I listen to music, sneak into concerts, work odd jobs, build things.”

“Build things?”

“Yeah, I actually really like doing stuff with my hands, despite all the years of footwork. In high school, it was mostly making my own jewelry or working around the house, that kind of shit. But since I left, I’ve gotten hired for a few plumbing and construction jobs here and there.”

Huh. Weirdly, she could kind of picture Nat in a construction hat. “That’s cool.”

“Why? Are you thinking about becoming a plumber?”

“I was more complimenting the making your own jewelry thing.” Jackie corrects. “And no. I’m just thinking about signing up for more extracurriculars.”

They follow the sidewalk, loitering on-and-off in front of the different shops. Shoe store, post office, nail salon. A cafe proclaiming there’s help wanted. Music beating from inside a bar they’re not allowed into.

“You should try playing hacky sack.” Nat suggests, seemingly out of the blue, after a minute of nodding along to the bar’s fading Black Hole Sun (which Jackie really only recognizes because of long car rides and Shauna).

Bewildered, Jackie whips to look at her. “Why in the world would I do that?”

“I always see people around here playing. It’s like diet soccer. It should be right up your alley.”

There’s no way that’s happening. Besides the fact that not everything in her life is about dieting and high school soccer, hacky sack sounds so cliche for a college kid, and also— “What makes you think I’d go for phony crap? I don’t want to play diet soccer. I want to play real soccer.”

Which is when Nat, very casually, says something that changes everything — again. “So, why don’t you?”

Chapter 16

Notes:

Just wanna say as some might’ve noticed, I went through and edited the fic a bit. Nothing major where you’d have to reread, but fixed some typos/made it read clearer. I just wanted to be fully happy with it before heading into these last chapters.

Strap in and enjoy!

“I’ve been putting a lot of thought into it. Soccer was the first time I really valued my body for something other than looks. My endurance, my speed…” Jackie leans her naked back against the desk chair, carrying the phone with her. “And I do kind of miss playing, anyway. Being in a sorority isn’t the same as being on a team.”

“I don’t know about that.” Shauna answers. “There’s the same amount of binge drinking.”

”Hilarious. Hardy har har.” Jackie jokes flatly.

She hears a small exhale on the other line, a smile creeping into Shauna’s voice. “I think it’s a great idea, as long as you’re eating. Do whatever helps. Just try not to burn yourself out in the process.”

Shauna hasn’t let up with the worrying since they parted, never failing to remind Jackie to rest after wringing her dry. But this is nothing too strenuous, only club soccer. She figured there’d most likely be less stress if she started off with something less competitive than the school’s official team.

Not that she’s even starting anytime soon. She still needs to work up to it. Maybe she’ll join whenever she can entertain the idea without her brain going hip, hip, hooray, and immediately lighting up like a switchboard at the thought of burning more calories. Soccer isn’t supposed to be about that. You don’t just play because of your own needs, you play for your team’s.

Regardless of how long it takes, it’s nice to be able to pin a goal on the horizon. One that’s healthy, at least. The promise of becoming strong enough for a game again actually works as encouragement to eat, and something tells her she’ll succeed at getting Nat to practice with her until she’s ready. (Fortunately no one is more easily bribed by alcohol and free food.)

If not, maybe she’ll beg Shauna to kick her the ball over break. Her powers of persuasion have become particularly impressive lately.

“Ironic. You didn’t seem to care about me burning out five minutes ago.” Jackie reminds her girlfriend slyly, stretching one leg onto the desk. Four of her fingertips are still pruny from her own slick.

”That was different. You needed it, remember?”

”I remember.” Jackie shivers, savoring the low throb between her thighs, feeling it pulse fretfully against her sticking underwear. She wishes she could cling to the sensation. As much as Jackie loves their phone calls, they’re never quite enough now that she knows what the alternative is. “It was great, but still not as good as the real thing.”

Shauna makes a noise of agreement. “Same here. I miss touching you myself.”

Jackie misses that and much, much more. Shauna’s hands all over her body, Shauna’s mouth on hers, Shauna’s tongue buried deep inside. She bites her lip, restraining herself. “Well, you won’t have to wait long. Just seventeen more hours, and I’m all yours.”

”You’re always all mine.” Shauna tells her without skipping a beat, causing Jackie to grin stupidly.

”Technically true, but you know what I mean.”

”I do.” Shauna amends before pausing for a second, seeming to contemplate saying something. “I can’t stop thinking about it… being with you. I can’t hold my hands still. My mom wants me for Thanksgiving obviously, but otherwise...”

They’ll have a whole three days free.

Jackie can’t contain her anticipation. ”Me either. Did you buy the toys yet?”

”Not yet. I’m going to once I head back to Wiskayok. I know there’s a couple shops along the way that’ll have what we need.” Shauna explains, which Jackie likes the sound of. Shopping between towns means that there’s little chance of anyone catching onto either of them.

Honestly, if Shauna was spotted buying a strap-on, half of their former classmates would likely assume it was going to go home to Jackie. She’s heard enough 69ing jokes to last a lifetime.

”And just how do you know this?” Jackie probes, fully suggestively. Here’s hoping the answer isn’t another girl showed me.

”Take your head out of the gutter. I saw them while riding up to campus for the first time. Turns out, if you move enough miles away from town things get less puritanical pretty quick.”

”I guess I’ll see for myself whenever I visit.”

”Make that soon.” Shauna tells her, so blatantly impatiently that it has Jackie chuckling. “I can pick up some movies, too, if you want. Or we could try and binge watch something.”

“Like ninth grade with Saved by the Bell?”

”Like ninth grade with Saved by the Bell.” Shauna confirms warmly, sharing the same thought.

“I’d love that.” Jackie’s mind is already whirring from the possibilities. “Find something romantic but not like Romeo and Juliet levels of sad. I don’t want to cry outside of the bedroom.”

Shauna laughs her prettiest laugh. The one that’s always achingly fleeting. “Noted. Look, I’ve got to go, I have a class to catch. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you.”

”I love you, too. Bye, baby.”

“Bye.”

Pressing a tiny kiss to the phone before setting it down, she exhales happily, hit with a wave of what can only be referred to as pure elation. Seventeen more hours. Not long to wait. A good night’s sleep, a thorough shower, a couple hours on a couple buses, and she’ll literally be home free. Dawdling away the days underneath Shauna, watching movie after movie, talking well into each night, making love and screwing endlessly. Like falling inside a dream.

She sits nearby the desk a little while longer, basking in the afterglow of Shauna’s voice, as if doing so will magically teleport them together.

Eventually, sitting in her nakedness becomes a discomfort rather than a pleasure, the wet spots on her beginning to dry and plaster too tight. Being reminded of her body’s existence isn’t exactly a crowning delight these days. In her cloud of Shauna-induced lust, she’d forgotten the few planes of her frame she hadn’t managed to chisel down yet. Rounded arms, plushy thighs, forever grating stomach. All the tiny spots she relies on Shauna to distract her from.

She’s sure a few less meals would’ve done the job in getting rid of them, but she’d vowed to Shauna to eat each one, and she had, and now — well, nothing left to do about it, is there?

Just seventeen more hours.

Then, she’ll be seeing Shauna again. Seeing her old friends again. Seeing her family again. And they’ll be seeing her right back.

 

*

 

Contrary to popular belief, Jackie can navigate a couple of routes without falling apart at the seams.

Sure, squeezing between strangers for hours isn’t exactly comfortable (nor is plastering her ass to a sweaty, plastic seat), but it isn’t a dealbreaker, given what’s waiting on the finish line. One night alone with Shauna and some handcuffs would be worth every cramped, humid second. 

The day before Thanksgiving, she walks off the bus safe, on time — and smelling like several different people’s BO. As the bus rattles to a stop, she gives herself a subtle sniff and frowns. Wowza. Maybe it’s a good thing she’s not meeting Shauna immediately.

Just her parents. 

Stepping onto the uncrowded street corner is mostly a relief, despite the nerves in her belly. Part of her worries some old acquaintance will jump suddenly out of the woodworks to say hi, but hardly anyone lingers around. No curly-haired Maybe Mistys or towering Potential Lotties, just a scattering of strangers. It’s almost too easy to spot her parents standing nearby. She has no time to prepare before they’re there, leaning against their family mini van.

The image feels surreal. Her dad with his blue, checkered button-down and khakis. Her mom with her fine, white pearls and dress. So familiar but also so distant somehow, as if she’s staring at a picture she melted out of.

”Jacqueline! Jackie! Over here!”

An odd mixture of joy and dread introduces itself to Jackie’s innards, homesickness fluttering through her chest, while something more venomous mars her stomach. It’d been difficult to keep anything besides a protein bar down this morning, but now she has to clench her teeth not to permanently lose her lunch.

Relax. It’s not like you don’t know what to expect.

Quickly, Jackie swallows her fear and hastens to meet them, bile disappearing down her throat.

Although, knowing what to expect might be the exact problem…

As soon as she gets close enough to see their smiles, two excited pairs of hands are reaching out. “Finally. There you are, dear.”

”Hi—“

“Don’t be shy.” Her mom cuts in. “You’re never too old to give your parents a hug.”

Yanked forward, Jackie stumbles into their embrace, fighting not to wince as the air is crushed out of her. For a second, all noise replaces with the sound of her father’s questions and her mother’s cooing, both of them swarming her at once, so that their combined enthusiasm nearly drives her off her feet. Inhaling laboriously, she struggles first for breath and then to be able to push past the unexpected, twisting discomfort at them gripping her limbs this strongly. Stuck in the middle the way she is, her body squeezes similarly to a piping bag, fat seeming to burst between their fingers.

They must feel it. That little roll she hadn’t quite chipped away. A wave of uncertainty, bordering on regret, bowls her over almost as forcefully as they do. Surely, they’ve noticed. Surely, now they’re going to—

“We were worried we’d keep you waiting, but it looks like it all worked out.” Her dad tells her, perfectly normally. No comments, concerned or critical. No staring. No mention of her weight. “Was the bus trouble?”

Jackie remains rooted to the spot for a second, disbelieving. Really? Nothing? It’s not like she was expecting thunderous applause or horrified gasps or anything but something. Nat and Shauna had nearly shit a brick over this just last week.

A teensy, tiny part of her is disappointed.

“Uh, no, actually, it was fine.” She says. That teensy, tiny part of her probably needs to die.

While she’s still reeling, her mom steps fussily by him, cupping Jackie’s cheeks.

”Look at this face.” Eagerly gripping her chin, her mom turns her head this way and that, admiring the angles of it. “Howard, didn’t you miss this face?”

“Everyday.” Her dad beams proudly, setting his hands inside his slacks. “It only ever gets prettier.”

The sight of his crinkling eyes, paired with his fond, familiar smile disarms her, thawing some of her nervous energy. These are her parents, after all. Maybe she’s the strange one, acting so bewildered, expecting hell to break loose.

“Thanks, dad.” Jackie replies, slightly sheepish, but bolstered by his compliment. An evil voice in her head is preening triumphantly. “I missed you, too.”

Prettier. You know they mean skinnier.

Jackie ignores it. She can’t afford to think like that. Not anymore.

Immediate family reunion over, they pile into the car and pull away from the bus stop, still without reaching any sort of disaster. Her dad handles the wheel, while her mom twists to chatter at Jackie, who folds herself in the backseat, tucking her hands beneath her thighs, the same way she liked to when she was five. 

”Now, you’re going to have to give us every detail from start to finish.” Her mom tells her. “Absolutely no skimping. What classes you’re taking next, who your best friends are, where you like to spend all of your time when you’re ignoring your parents’ calls.”

Jackie smiles, hopefully without any visible strain. “I like a lot of the small coffee shops nearby. There’s this little place nearby called Brew Haven that has these blueberry pancakes that are just the best...” 

Lapsing back into her old chattering rhythm is surprisingly easy, her tongue working like a well-tuned radio, spouting this after that. Sorority bake sales, overlong assignments, girls trips, midnight study sessions, frat parties, and boycotts. All the professors she hated, all the professors she loved. Half of it is bullshit, lies she has to come up with on the spot to hide the fact that most of her life only counts to her now if it’s measured in calories. She doesn’t remember every night out, but she does remember every day she succeeded and every day that she failed. How it felt, only relying on scraps, and how it felt, surrendering guiltily to another mouthful. 

But honest or not, it’s nice to talk. Nice to be able to prattle on and be met with warm, adoring attention that she doesn’t have to question or fret over. Her parents always seem interested in her every word, no matter how mundane. So much so that she wishes she genuinely had some amazing, authentic college stories to bestow upon them. Nothing truly great has happened, outside of her practically having her insides rearranged by Shauna, which is information she’s not planning on sharing.

“…it was surprisingly really rewarding.” She finishes. “Keeping busy is a must there. I was even thinking about getting back into soccer.”

Her dad perks up at the mention of sports. More specifically, her athletic career. “Yeah? Sounds like those Scarlet Knights are going to get a new star player, then.”

Jackie grins just before her mom chimes in.

”That’s a wonderful decision.”

“Really?” Jackie asks incredulously. Last time she checked, she was supposed to go for a more delicate hobby. She still has the underused ballet slippers and toddler’s cheer skirt somewhere in the back of her closet.

”Sure. How else are you going to get your exercise? When I was in college, I did cheer all four years, and it kept me slim as a pencil, thank god. Some women just use college as an excuse to let themselves go.” Catching the expression crossing Jackie’s face, she adds primly: “I don’t mean you, of course. Wipe off that accusing look, for Christ’s sake. It’s just how your father said, you only ever get prettier. Now that you’ve shed all that baby fat, you’re practically my spitting image.”

Fuck. It’s like winning a game and kissing a girl and painting the Mona Lisa all at once.

Despite every warning she’s told herself, despite all of the kindness and reassurance Shauna has given her, despite the fact that some part of her truly, deeply longs to be stronger, she simply isn’t. She’s weak again. Undeniable euphoria bursts free and spreads through every bit of her, flooding her veins, her brain, her chest. 

”Thank you.” She says softly.

Skinnier! Skinnier! Skinner! Her mind erupts in cheers, a victory chant. Skinnier! Skinnier! Skinnier!

She can’t will it away. Worse than that, she doesn’t want to.

Is it really so bad, if she enjoys this feeling, when it’s only for one moment? If she relishes what she’s worked so hard for? She hasn’t heard the roar of a crowd in forever, and now it’s everywhere.

“We’ll also have to get into the other important manner of business.” Her mom goes on, apparently not finished yet. She leans towards Jackie secretively, looking particularly sly. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t mentioned it. What boys have caught your eye?”

”I’ll be covering my ears.” Her dad announces loudly.

”Oh, don’t be like that. What are you going to do when you have to walk her down the aisle?”

“Mom.” Jackie says, embarrassed.

The topic change fortunately works as a nice distraction, but it’s been about ten minutes of this car ride, and she already feels fifteen all over again, getting interrogated about the lanky, blonde boy stopping by to bring her bad chocolates.

Except this time, it’s pointless. She doesn’t know if she’s even getting married. If she can’t do it with Shauna, then it’s a no.

“You don’t be like that either.” Her mom’s stare abruptly reminds her of looking down a double barrel, startling as Travis swung the gun in Nat’s direction. “I see your face. I know you’re hiding something, so out with it.”

Crap, crap, crap.

Jackie drums her fingers, quick, against the bony ridge of her knee. “I… am seeing someone.”

She can’t tell them the whole truth, but she can tell them part of it, right? 

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, they share a glance and a chuckle. “That’s lovely. Who is the lucky fellow?”

Shauna. It’s always been Shauna. She’s my fellow, and I’m the one that’s lucky for getting to love her.

”His name is Jon.” She hears herself muttering, fumbling as her eyes awkwardly find the floor. “Jon Butcher. He’s from England. I only met him a bit ago at this frat party, which is why I haven’t mentioned it. It’s new, but we really hit it off. He’s super smart. The quiet, bookish type. Kind of serious but funny, too. Witty. The total opposite of Jeff.”

”That sounds like a relief, huh?” Her mom quips, and Jackie nods uneasily. “What’s he look like?”

”Really handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, the cutest smile. He’s… intense in this way that’s magnetic. Like you can’t take your eyes off of him when he’s in the room.” When she’s there with me, there’s nothing else. She becomes everything. “And he’s athletic. He played a little soccer in high school, so we have that in common.”

Jackie stops there, biting her lip and wondering if she’s being too obvious, but her parents seem none the wiser.

”Wow. He really must be something.” Her mom remarks genially. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enamored.”

”If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Her dad shrugs, flicking on his turn signal. “Just be sure to let him know I have a baseball bat, and I’m still quite the hitter.”

”You don’t have to worry, Dad. He treats me right.” Jackie ensures, doing her best to sound more exasperated than relieved. They totally bought it.

Even more so, they’re happy about it. Would they have ever reacted the same way, if they really knew?

Instead of pondering questions she already knows the answer to, she fixes her gaze outside, watching as Wiskayok whizzes by in all of its glory. The countless, wall-to-wall shops, the sludgy sidewalks, and the school with its empty, cheerless soccer field.

 

*

 

The inquisition continues outside of the car, up the driveway, and into their foyer. “A costume party, economic midterm, and a fundraiser? Sounds like a packed week.”

“Yeah, it was really something.” Jackie answers as interestedly as she can, given she’s faking. She’s half-sure the costume party fell during the same weekend she spent with Shauna, which reminds her: “I think I’m going to—“

She freezes as the phone rings, its trilling interrupting.

”—go pick that up right now.” Leaving her parents standing bewildered, she dashes through the doorway, skidding across the kitchen floor and gobbling it up in her hands. ”Hi. Jackie speaking.”

“Thank god.” Shauna’s relieved sigh answers her. “I’ve been calling every couple of hours to check.”

Jackie’s stomach does a small somersault. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Like I’m the only one.” Shauna mutters before lowering her voice to a more serious, hushed tone, as if someone could be listening. ”I got the — stuff. For us. My mom ran out of cinnamon, so she’s going on a grocery run soon. Are your parents letting you out yet?”

”It’s not like I’m performing a prison break.” Jackie rolls her eyes. “I’ll be over in twenty. Just let me freshen up first.”

Despite what she tells Shauna, leaving the house does turn out to be somewhat difficult since her parents are still planted in the living room, lamenting about how much they missed their baby girl. She endures about a week’s worth of cheek pinches and strangling hugs before finally being able to slip away, complaining she’ll be late to a movie she’s not seeing. Funnily enough, it’s the exact same lie she used to use whenever she and Shauna wanted to sneak out to a party across town. Good old reliable.

Escaping down the sidewalk, her heart dances to the tune of familiar anticipation. They talked about so many toys, who knows what Shauna bought? She took special care in the shower, keeping the idea in mind that things could end up leading anywhere. Wherever Shauna puts her hands, she’ll accept very, very enthusiastically.

Just knowing they’re moving in closer proximity to each other puts some extra pep into her step. Jackie skips up the wobbly, cobblestone path she’s dearly missed and knocks on the Shipman’s front door, smoothing down her shorts while she waits. She almost can’t believe how ordinary the day feels, how simple and right. The breezy temperature, the short, easy walk, and the bees whispering through the air, swarming Deb’s flowerbeds. Everything perfectly as it should be, like some beautiful angel had flown down and preordained this day, scribbling into her destiny: have rampant sex with Shauna.

Jackie has always held a special appreciation for Shauna’s house, ever since Deb remodeled it post-divorce. What used to be a soulless, beige house basically became a little girl’s fairytale, decorated like a cute old cottage. Sloping, stacked stones, cozy, cluttered porch, wide, plentiful garden, and tiny gnomes dotted all around. Deb was meticulous about ensuring it always sported some assortment of yellow and blue. Once, she had even flooded it with poppies for Jackie’s birthday.

As impatient as Jackie is to see Shauna, she also wouldn’t mind a bit of time with her future in-law. In fact, she’s half-expecting Deb to be the one to receive her before she’s greeted by what might be the most adorable sight ever.

An apron-clad Shauna Shipman.

The garment’s green strings are tied snug around her waist, the front of it stained in several places so that Jackie can just barely make out the bolded kiss the cook printed across. Alongside the words is a beaming, cartoon radish, complete with a toothy grin and goatee crafted out of scraggly roots.

“Hey, you’re here.” Shauna initially smiles, but her eyes narrow suspiciously, the longer Jackie stares at her. “What?”

“Is your mom still here?”

”No. Why?”

Grinning, Jackie grabs ahold of two shoulders and backs Shauna up into the house, kicking the door closed behind them so that she can freely spring into her girlfriend’s arms. The enthusiastic hello causes Shauna to stumble into the nearest wall, grunting. She’s clearly taken aback, but her mouth is warm and wanting when Jackie reaches it, pushing pleasantly into the kiss.

As usual, Shauna gives as good as she gets, gripping Jackie’s waist and pulling her in just as strongly, their bodies fitting together. They spend at least a minute getting reacquainted… which may or may not mean groping in the middle of the living room.

(Sorry, Deb.)

Jackie dips her tongue out, licking the sweetness from Shauna’s plump, bottom lip. “What are you in there baking?”

“Who says I’m baking?” Shauna murmurs softly into her mouth.

”The powdered sugar on your nose.” Jackie points out, their chins grazing as she laughs lightly.

Shauna’s hair sits in a ponytail of utter disarray, dark wisps undone around her flushed face, which only flushes deeper upon hearing Jackie. The red stands out nicely against the white flecks dusting onto her cheeks.

”Oh.”

Shauna frowns down at each speck, as if they’re a personal offense.

“Oh.” Jackie echoes, mimicking her. She’s so fucking cute in this moment that Jackie swears she could explode.

”We were making pie.” Shauna clarifies, rubbing fruitlessly at her nose while she speaks. “That blueberry kind you like.“

“Aw. You didn’t have to do that.” Jackie says, though she’s quietly, thoroughly pleased. It’s a sweet gesture, regardless of if Jackie is going to eat it.

“Wasn’t my idea.” Shauna admits distractedly, on the verge of scrubbing her face raw. “Mom cant stop asking about you.”

”Here, let me.” Jackie happily reaches up and brushes her thumb across Shauna’s nose, wiping the mess away. Even once it’s gone, Shauna remains the picture of culinary excellence. “You have to know you’re adorable like this.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Just not so bad?” She prods, pouting. “I’m sure that’s not the best you can do.”

Seeming equally amused, Shauna puts on a faux serious face and fixes her eyes directly on Jackie. ”You look very pretty, as usual. I like your shorts.”

”That’s better.” Jackie pecks her.

Shauna’s hands slip downwards, sliding over the small of Jackie’s back to cup Jackie’s behind, giving it a firm, dirty squeeze. “Did you wear them for me?”

Jackie gasps. That’s much, much better. “Maybe.”

They felt less obvious than some of her skimpier skirts, while still being noticeably small, and she wanted to send a message to Shauna without looking like a whore in front of Deb. Plus they’re cute, and they have little stripes.

”Which means yes.” Shauna grins slyly, repeating the motion, once she sees how much Jackie likes it.

Jackie is about ready to get lost in those hands and that smirk, when she realizes something. “Wait. How does your mom know we’re talking again?”

”Relax.” Two thumbs calmly massage Jackie’s hips, easing away whatever worries must be showing on her face. “I didn’t give her all the details. I knew we’d need some explanation when you came, so I told her I apologized. If she asks, I called you, we talked it out, and we’re friends again.”

”Huh. Not too far from the truth.” Jackie, fiddling with Shauna’s collar. It’s halfway close to real… kind of like what she said to her parents earlier. “I actually told a white lie about you, too.”

”Meaning…”

”Meaning, they know I’m dating someone, but they think you’re a boy.” Jackie admits somewhat guiltily. “I think that they picked up on the fact that I’m happier than I’ve ever been before, and then my mom got this, like, killer knowing look in her eye that sort of freaked me out, and I panicked.”

”So, they think that I’m—“

”Jon Butcher.”

”…like Jon Snow?” 

“Exactly. And Butcher because, you know. Besides that, I mostly told them the truth.” Seeing Shauna doesn’t appear to be upset, Jackie leaves a small kiss on the left corner of her mouth. And then on the right, since she can’t pick a favorite. “That you’re gorgeous and crazy smart and I’m head over heels for you. Are you mad?”

Shauna shakes her head. Says, slowly: ”No. I think you need to learn to lie better but no. I know what your parents are like.”

”Hey, some people would say not being a good liar is a pro, not a con.”

Shauna hums faintly in agreement, continuing to gaze at her. “Would it bother you if I told my mom the actual truth?”

Despite the stutter of her chest, Jackie maintains her clueless expression. ”You want to tell your mom that you insulted me into having an orgasm over the phone?”

”No.” Shauna corrects gently, as if she’s already figured out what Jackie’s doing. “I want to tell her that we’re dating. Not soon but… sometime. It just feels silly lying to her, when I know she wouldn’t care. I think she has suspicions about me, anyway. She keeps mentioning Boy George for no reason.”

Sometime. Jackie can’t imagine what would be an acceptable time to inform Deb that they’re gay for each other. It’s not as if a couple months or years suddenly makes the news less shocking.

”Okay.” Jackie finally answers slowly. “Can it be a very distant sometime?”

”Sure.” Shauna touches her nose to Jackie’s, inhaling the responding sigh of relief.

”Good, because I know what I want to do in the meantime.” Jackie leans closer, trying to reconnect them, but Shauna lightly evades her.

“What about what I want?” The dark glint blooming in Shauna’s eyes is startlingly sexy. She has to force herself to swallow her rising arousal, lest she lose whatever’s left of her pride. 

”What do you want?”

”Strip.”

Pausing, Jackie looks around the cushy, family living space dubiously.

”Here?”

Shauna just nods, watching her steadily. ”I want to see what color underwear you put on for me.”

Heat thrums beneath Jackie’s cheeks, but she manages to hold her own, tilting her chin up. ”Who says it’s for you? Maybe it’s for Jon.”

Shauna scoffs. Quick as lightning, her hand shoots up, snags the front of Jackie’s shirt and tugs, hard enough that their bodies snap together forcefully.

“Take this off or I’m ripping it in half.”

Struck by a sudden, genius idea, Jackie sidesteps Shauna, running past her as she begins to pull at the hem of her shirt. From there on, it’s a chase. She dashes up the stairs, shedding clothing as she goes, throwing each scrap back for Shauna to catch, off and off and off, until she reaches Shauna’s bedroom. The bed feels soft and comfortable when she hops naked into it, hastily slipping beneath Shauna’s blue-pink patterned sheets. Shauna appears in the doorway before she can even finish covering her breasts, catching her sitting up with the blankets bunched around her waist, rosy torso exposed.

The way she looks at Jackie… oh…

Jackie has to rub her thighs together beneath the sheets for any relief, feeling the tingling puddle Shauna’s gaze is creating.

”Let me see.” Shauna demands, not even stepping into the room yet.

”Come over here, and you will.”

That seems to be the right thing to say because Shauna closes the space between them, stopping in front of the bed. Once she’s there, she wastes no time taking hold of the bedsheet and ripping the last of Jackie’s coverings away, the way she promised that she would.

Shamefully, it’s the comment from earlier that keeps Jackie from wanting to hide.

Prettier. Skinnier. Worthy.

Compliment or no, Jackie still shivers as she watches Shauna’s attention shift greedily downwards, eyeing everything from her bared chest to her dampening cunt liberally, before landing on her flushed face.

”Purple’s cute.” Shauna lifts her hand to reveal Jackie’s bra dangling from her fingers.

”Huh, so that’s where that went…” Jackie remarks cluelessly, purposefully playing dumb. Rolling her eyes, Shauna pointedly tosses it away and moves to join Jackie, climbing onto the bed.

Fully clothed, Shauna settles over her, one knee balancing on either side of Jackie, so that roughened denim tickles her hips. There’s something titillating about being undressed like this, put on display while Shauna remains noticeably concealed.

Shauna clearly enjoys it, too, if her roaming hands are anything to go by. Her fingers map down Jackie’s sides without restraint, brushing the considerable dip of a slight waist, grazing protruding ribs, cupping small breasts. She squeezes them softly, eliciting a moan from Jackie, who’s more than ready to hop to it.

“What toys did you get?”

“Handcuffs, a paddle, a vibrator…” Shauna tweaks her nipples. “But you want to be fucked, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jackie pants, nodding. “Yeah, please.”

”Roll over. Hands and knees.”

Thank god. Jackie listens immediately, turning over so she’s facedown, already thinking of what Shauna is going to fit inside her.

What color will it be? How long? How big?

The sound of faint rustling behind her encourages Jackie to lift her hips in anticipation, arching her back and sliding her eyes closed. She’d asked for something thick, but who knows if her definition of that matches Shauna’s. It could be too slim. Or more likely, ginormous. All she knows is she wants is to feel it for a very, very long time. The stretch of Shauna reaching her everywhere, and the satisfying ache tomorrow when she sits at the Thanksgiving table.

She expects Shauna to need a minute to put the toy on, but instead Shauna returns to her surprisingly quick. Re-approaching footsteps reach her ears almost seconds after she hears a drawer close. Her surprise furthers, as the mattress rattles, and she’s met with soft, thin strips of what feels like leather rather than a solid length.

”Shauna, is that the flogger thing?” Flinging her eyes back open, she rapidly peers over her shoulder to confirm that yes, that is definitely a whip. Foreign and intimidating, with a sleek, black handle that flairs at the end, it looks disturbingly right in Shauna’s hands, as perfect as the knife had.

”Yes, Jackie, it’s the flogger thing. Good job piecing that one together.” Gone is the ribbing warmth from minutes ago. Shauna’s voice drips condescension, like she’s congratulating Jackie on correctly identifying the color of the sky.

Jackie’s skin prickles where the leather trails over her spine, touching her behind, which has suddenly never felt more vulnerable.

”But you said—“

”Why does it matter what I said? You’ve proven you won’t listen either way.” Shauna brings the strange, new sensation lower, letting it tickle it over Jackie’s upper thighs. “Girls who can follow instructions get what they want. Girls who can’t, don’t. When I tell you to strip, you strip. You don’t run away from me.”

Ah, that’s why she’s being punished. On some level, she expected this. Wanted it, even.

Or else, why would she have disobeyed? 

”Sorry.” It comes out half-hearted, since she’s not sure she means it.

Shauna tsks. ”If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have done it. Forget running. I should make sure you can’t walk.”

A humiliating thrill runs through Jackie at the prospect. She licks her lips but finds her tongue uselessly thick. ”Shauna, I’m… I...”

“Too little, too late. Keep your ass up and count.”

“Count?” Jackie asks, just as Shauna strikes, the flogger’s tail swiping sharply across one cheek. Pain blooms, more fiery and stinging than any slap she’s ever had before, sending her careening forward into Shauna’s mound of pillows. “Oh! O-One?”

She’s sure Shauna isn’t using anything close to full force, but it’s disorienting anyway. Shocking, anyway. Big surprise, she hasn’t been whipped before. Why the hell does she kind of like it?

While the initial, white hot impact is overwhelming, something oddly pleasurable follows, close to pins and needles but searing. Addictive. Dragging a pillow into her arms, she raises and repositions herself, wordlessly requesting more.

Shauna seems proud of her resilience. “Better.”

The second blow reverberates in her legs, shaking through her frame and collecting as a living pulse between her thighs.

”Two.”

Another.

“Three.”

Harder.

”Four!”

Her skin sings. Her vision swims.

”Five!”

”Have you learned your lesson?”

”Yes! Yes, I’ll listen.” Jackie gasps out, the words scraping raw from her throat, her breathing raspy, labored. Two frail, trembling arms are barely enough to hold her up, with how violently she’s shaking.

”I bet you will.” Shauna flattens her spare palm against the sore, abused curve of Jackie’s ass, not grabbing or smacking, just cementing her message. Ensuring it sticks. “You should see how wet you’ve been getting back here. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

As if to prove her point, Shauna shifts that hand lower, one steadfast finger sneaking down to slide inside Jackie. It meets zero resistance, only the easy glide of a wanting cunt.

Jackie can’t fight clenching and fluttering around the digit, even though it's not enough. Even though her body longs for more. "Shauna, want you—“

”Do you?”

”Yes!”

Seeming to finally grasp her desperation, Shauna pulls out, patting her backside comfortingly. "Stay here."

This time, Jackie makes sure to peer over her shoulder and watch closely, gluing herself to every movement. The untying of the apron, the shrugging off of her flannel, the removing of her pants. Jackie marvels at how quickly the clothes come off, not bothering to hide her leering as Shauna rids herself of each layer, losing her shirt along with her bra. Has anyone ever been more beautiful? More striking? Jackie can't imagine a sight better than Shauna, stark bare, obscured only by the stray, brown hairs dangling into her eyes.

Then, Jackie looks ever so slightly to her right.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could she have missed that? Shauna’s naked body is possibly the only thing in the world that could’ve distracted her from the toy on the dresser. It sits there plainly, its purpose obvious. A waiting, shiny, dark purple promise.

Thick. Large. Just like Jackie begged for.

God, she’s lucky to have a girlfriend who always gives her everything she wants.

Shauna doesn’t remain bare for long, reaching for the harness and lining it up before somewhat skillfully stepping into it, looking to have at least a little familiarity. Practiced hands tow it up her legs, situating it so it sits proud and bobbing, causing Jackie's mouth to run dry. Saliva becomes a mere memory.

”Have you worn it before?” Jackie asks while Shauna is adjusting the straps around her hips.

Shauna glances up slightly incredulously, as if she wasn't expecting Jackie to speak, but doesn't bristle at her question.

“Once or twice.” She gives the length a slow, confident stroke. “I tried it on to see if it’d fit.”

”It looks like it does.”

”You just want me over there faster.”

”Guilty.”

A tiny smile sparks in the corner of Shauna's mouth, likely unbidden. Regardless, she casts Jackie a stern look and does a spinning motion with her finger that indicates Jackie should turn back around.

Happy to comply, Jackie returns her head to the pillows, lowering her face fully into the plush cushioning. She can't see much except for shifting blocks of blackness, but their little moment of reprieve still gives her relief. Shauna isn't truly angry. Isn't going to hurt her. Not in any substantial way.

No, Shauna's just going to fuck her senseless.

Shauna returns to her frenzied, clambering onto the bed with much less grace than before, grasping her roughly from behind, yanking so they’re skin to skin. Wanting to show off, Jackie presses urgently back into the groping hands drifting up her thighs, only hissing for a moment when she feels faint pressure against her rear. The wound is so recent and so sensitive, the wind could probably make her cry.

“Please. Please. Please. Fuck, I need it, now—”

Turn’s out, Shauna’s a good listener, too, aligning herself so the tip skates purposefully against Jackie’s entrance, gliding up, then down, giving a torturous taste of it. Jesus, she feels big.

Shauna continues slipping and sliding through the building pool of slick, dragging the toy’s blunt head where Jackie is dripping. “Desperate little bitch, aren’t you?”

“For you, yes, I’m — oh!” Jackie grinds purposefully against it, working in wanton circles, needing the friction. “I want you everywhere I can have you.”

Her cunt is already puffy when Shauna slips into it.

Already wet, already wanting, already pleading for each and every hard, unyielding inch. So, she can’t be blamed for the orgasm that crashes down on her immediately, hitting her like another slap, bright and bursting. All her muscles buckle, her stomach sliding along the sheets as her quivering limbs give out. 

Shauna laughs breathily, meanly. “Wow, Jax. At least let me get halfway in.”

Jackie just whimpers, feeling the thick girth continue to split her, her inner walls still twitching from orgasm. 

The rest of Shauna’s thrust is slow, controlled. She takes her time sinking into Jackie, one warm hand petting up Jackie’s spine, gripping her hair firmly to keep her in place. Not that running away is much of a concern now. Jackie doubts she’d be able to make it a singular step with Shauna’s fingers forming such a tight hold, plus the shaft that seems like it’s, fuck, breaking her in half. 

Shauna quickly gets a feel for fucking her, gradually moving surer and surer, creating a fervent, relentless rhythm, while Jackie writhes, coming apart under the increasingly strong thrusts. She can’t bring herself to be quiet, to not twist and squirm and cry out with each one. Her cunt is squeezing hard, ass throbbing against Shauna’s rutting hips.

It’s overwhelming, heady, on the right side of too much. Shauna panting hot and heavy in her ear, Shauna sealing to the back of her, Shauna moving like she wants to push the bones out of Jackie’s body. Shauna, Shauna, Shauna. All of it so good.

”I’m gonna come again. I’m gonna come again. I’m gonna—“

”Do it already, then.” Shauna yanks hard on her hair, pulling her back into brutally snapping hips. “You’re such a whiny slut.”

“Fuck!”

This time, Jackie’s eyes nearly roll back into her head. Pleasure becomes all she can comprehend. Just the motion of their bodies, the loud, near-musical slapping sound of them. The way they grind together perfectly. Wetness dribbles considerably down her thighs, sliding towards her knees.

How many times can they do this in only half a week? Ten? A hundred? Her head freaking hurts and her ass freaking hurts but still she wants more—

Shauna freezes.

More, more, more. Confused, Jackie whines pitifully, senselessly grinding backwards. 

“Shush.” Shauna’s hand slips abruptly from her hair to slap over her mouth. “I think my mom just got here.”

”Oh, shit.” Jackie says, muffled.

They wait for a few moments, stiff and silent. When she listens closely, she realizes that Shauna is right. There is a faint commotion going on downstairs, faraway footsteps creaking across floorboards. 

Finally, Shauna whispers: ”It’s okay. I locked the door when I got up to get the flogger. Just… be quiet. Do you think you can do that?”

Jackie normally would object to having sex anywhere near Deb, but they’re already very, very much in the middle of it. Even though it would be smart to wrap things up, her body argues, clenching stubbornly, as if in protest. 

She nods. 

Shauna starts moving again. Slower than before, obviously trying not to audibly rock the bed. She releases Jackie’s mouth to let Jackie bite down on the nearest pillow instead, her free hand snaking low to find Jackie’s slippery clit within the damp, sweaty mess of sheets. Overcome, Jackie closes her eyes and tremors.

It’s different, doing this without the usual haste, but still better than anything Jackie’s ever experienced in her life, Shauna’s thrusts just as deep, penetrating, and dirty.

”I can’t believe you’re going along with this.” Shauna tells her quietly, close enough that Jackie can feel the breath of her low, enraptured words and the glide of her sweat-slicked forehead. Her fingers pick up the slack, rubbing frenzied circles as she steadily fills Jackie. “You’ll do anything to be fucked.”

Deb pacing around downstairs should be a deterrent, not the thing that sends Jackie over the proverbial finish line.

But well…

Jackie chews on cotton to smother her unavoidable sobs. Silent, mascara-ruining tears slip down her cheeks. Holy fucking god. Again.

“Shh, shh, shh… keep biting on it, just like that… good girl…” Massaging her back soothingly, Shauna scatters kisses over Jackie’s shoulder blades as she winds down, placing one against her nape, before gently and carefully pulling out. “I don’t think she realized.”

Thankfully, sometime is not now.

She needs to be clean, presentable, and preferably clothed, if she’s going to cross paths with Deb. Which should likely happen soon.

”We should probably go say hi…” Jackie makes a shaky attempt to sit up.

”In a minute. I bought aloe vera for you.”

Sinking flat onto the bed once again, Jackie tiredly sighs, smiles. “Kay.”

Notes:

anyway here’s a little playlist I made for this fic