Chapter 1: chapter one
Notes:
note: the chapters will eventually get longer !!
Chapter Text
For years, Ginny Miller had prayed to the universe not to be invisible. She’d prayed to maybe get invited to a party sometime. To be one of the fifteen people picked first in gym class for whatever sport was being played. To get a ‘hi!’ in the busy hallways. To have friends to sit with in the cafeteria. For most of her social and academic career, she'd d flown under the radar, and not by choice. But Wellsbury was different. She had finally gotten all the things for which she’d prayed. But now, more than ever, she wished to crawl back into her cocoon of invisibility.
‘This song is dedicated to someone really special to me,’ Hunter had said with the softest smile on his face. He’d kept the dedication vague, but his general eyesight was focused in one direction. By process of elimination, one of the many giddy girls could have figured out the subject. It couldn’t have been Max because she was a lesbian. It couldn’t have been Abby because she'd just been thirsting over Scott the Guitar Player. It couldn’t have been Norah because she had a boyfriend, Jordan, who was also one of Hunter’s best friends. So, that had left Ginny, the New Girl who had already been spotted cosying up to Hunter during Sophomore Sleepover.
‘I can barely breathe . . . when you . . . are near . . .’ Hunter sang.
Trying to drown out the squeals of the swooning girls around her, Ginny felt her throat slowly close up, tiny beads of sweat coating the back of her neck. There was an uncomfortable heat coursing through her body, pooling in her chest and stomach. She wrung her fingers, digging her nails into her palms so hard she was sure she drew blood. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt like this. But it was the second time in Wellsbury in two weeks. The first time was at Sophomore Sleepover when that lady had brushed her curls and it took three seconds for her hair to turn into a bushy mane. Her three new friends had seemed to feel bad, offering to help her, but before that, they’d looked at her like she’d grown two extra heads. Ginny couldn’t shake the feeling that after she’d run to the locker room, they’d laughed at her and the entire situation. It was a gross feeling, clawing at her until she’d just wanted to scream bloody murder. She hated that feeling, and now it was back thanks to Hunter and his stupid song. His sweet, stupid song.
'From the moment I met you . . . my heart grew . . .’
She liked Hunter. Really, she did. But the longer their little courtship went on, the more Ginny was convinced that it was simply New Girl Wonder on both their parts. He was cute and nice and she’d been in no position to pass up a friend, much less a guy who actually seemed to like her back. She was the shiny new toy. Ginny hoped he wasn’t so superficial that that had been the only reason he noticed her, but it was true, wasn’t it? But that was then, when her feelings were all bright and bubbly and her feelings were a bright orange flame. At present, her feelings for him were a barely burning ember, the whisper of a flame, the ghost of ash lingering in the air. He sang that his heart grew from the moment he met her. She felt the opposite.
She could have run out of the auditorium right now, but she didn’t want to be dramatic, didn’t want to embarrass Hunter. So she let him finish his secret-not-so-secret serenade, immersed herself in the high energy. She hoped her distress didn’t show on her face. After the applause died down, the crowd slowly dispersed for the intermission, people going to get some snacks and the bathroom. When he got off the stage, he and Brodie made their way to the girls while Padma returned to her friends. The group teased and embraced them and it was a sweet scene, though Ginny felt a pang as she realised she felt like the odd one out. What else was new? She mustered up a small smile as Hunter approached her.
‘Hey,’ Ginny said.
‘Hey,’ Hunter smiled.
‘I really liked the song.’
‘Thanks. Guess who my inspiration was?’
Ginny flushed, biting the inside of her cheek.
‘I’m really sorry I was M.I.A.,’ Hunter began. ‘I read all of Pride and Prejudice just so we could talk about it. And I’m like, really behind on homework. And the stuff with the band . . . I’m sorry for ignoring you and all.’
She gulped, guilt eating at her. She hadn’t even noticed he was ignoring her. ‘Because you were ignoring him, too, you two-timing slut!’ her subconscious sneered. ‘You were too busy dropping your panties for Marcus!’ her subconscious went there again. ‘Bitch! Whore!’ Ginny felt her palms get sweaty. She had to nip this in the bud before things spun out of control. Before it got away from her. Hunter didn’t deserve any of it.
‘Can we talk? In private?’
‘Sure,’ Hunter nodded.
They didn’t miss the cheers and whoop-whoops of their friends as they left the auditorium. As they walked, Ginny felt an odd sensation, some sixth sense that alerted her to Hunter slowly moving his hand to hold hers. She quickly lifted her hands, cracking her knuckles and getting in a light arm stretch. When they neared the locker rooms, Ginny stopped and pulled him into the corner just barely lit by the window and the streetlights outside. There was a bench, and Ginny planted herself on it to make sure her feet were steady. Hunter sat beside her.
‘So, what’d you wanna talk about?’
Ginny breathed deeply, wiping her clammy palms on her jeans. ‘I . . . Hunter . . .’ she gulped. ‘ . . . You’re great. Really. And I . . . I appreciate you a lot, you know, for being so kind to me on my first day here. And you’re so respectful . . . And my mom really likes you, and us, together, even though you’ve never talked directly . . . But I don’t . . . I don’t feel about you the way you . . . feel about me . . .’ Ginny finished. She hadn’t even realised her eyes were tightly shut until she slowly opened them. For a split second, she saw the dejected expression on Hunter’s face and wished she could forget it. He collected himself quickly enough.
‘Oh.’
‘I really wish I’d told you before your performance,’ she sighed, ‘because it was so nice and sweet, you know? And you worked so hard on the song and you really put yourself out there. And now I’m the bitch who broke your heart.’
Hunter huffed a chuckle. ‘Don’t call yourself a bitch, it’s mean. And you’re not mean.’
‘I am, though. What else would you call this?’
‘Look,’ he began, shifting so he had either leg on both sides of the bench. ‘You don’t owe me anything. And you’re totally allowed to feel how you feel. I know we’ve been on like, two dates, but I probably should’ve asked you to be my girlfriend before pulling a stunt like that.’
Ginny didn’t respond.
‘I know it’s none of my business, but is there someone else? I know you weren’t officially my girlfriend or anything, but I assumed it was kind of an official exclusive non-relationship thing? Does that make sense? Like, we weren’t together but we were kinda off-limits to everyone else?’
She softly chuckled. ‘It makes total sense to me, Hunter. And no, there’s, uh, there’s no one else.’ Her mind flashed to Marcus. Marcus with his pretty pink lips and dark eyes and soft hair. Her belly fluttered at the thoughts racing through her mind. Thoughts of Marcus tracing his fingers on her waist, kissing her neck, breathing her in, holding her like he didn’t want her to run away, like she was a part of him. When her thoughts lingered on some rather intimate moments on her bed, on his bed, she cleared her throat. ‘I’ve just never had friends before, much less a boyfriend. You and Max were the first people who were nice to me and I think I just went berserk. I got a new best friend and a cute guy liked me and I was all like, why not? Two birds, one stone, I’m a real teenager now!’
Hunter chuckled. ‘I get it, yeah.” He then paused, seemingly in contemplation. ‘Are we gonna be cool? I don’t want things to be awkward.’
‘You’re asking me? I’m the one asshole here. What are we gonna tell the guys?’
‘Press and Brodie will never let me live it down,’ he snorted, ‘but I think I’ll bounce back. My ego’s only slightly bruised.’
‘Okay,’ she nodded, breathing a little easier. A cool sensation took over. ‘Thank you for being so understanding. You deserve so much better than me.’
He leaned in to press a soft kiss on her cheek. ‘Self-deprecation never helped anybody,’ he whispered. Manoeuvring his legs so that he could stand up, he let out a small smile. ‘Chin up, okay? I’m fine. We’re good.’
She returned his smile and gave him a little wave as he walked away.
After cooling herself down with a light splash of cold water to the face, Ginny had lain the length of her body on the bench, feet dangling off the edge, eyes closed. She’d only looked up to find Marcus sitting in the dry showers when the smell of his joint hit her nostrils. In silence, she got up and planted herself beside him, and he handed her the blunt. She inhaled as instructed and then exhaled. She hadn’t liked smoking the first time she’d tried it with her friends, but she welcomed it now. Maybe it was because Marcus hadn’t made her feel like an alien, chuckling at her inexperience. She gave the joint back to him and then leaned her head on his shoulder. Her stomach fluttered when she felt the soft pressure of his head on hers.
‘I broke up with Hunter,’ she said.
Marcus paused for a few beats. And then, ‘And are you happy or sad about that?’
‘A secret third thing, I guess,’ she huffed. ‘The guilt was too much after the song.’
‘I can barely breathe . . .’ he jokingly began. She playfully elbowed him in the side and then they both chuckled. ‘Are you okay, though? For real.’
He handed Ginny the joint, and she took a drag once more. Their fingers brushed when she handed it back to him. ‘I’m okay. But I feel like an asshole.’
‘Why is that?’
‘’Cause I just broke up with my non-boyfriend and all I can think about is kissing you. Not even kissing you, I’m talking a full-on makeout.’ She wasn’t even embarrassed to be talking like this in front of him. She’d have liked to think it was from some kind of two-hit high, but she was speaking from the heart. Anxious as she was on the daily, she was sure she’d have somehow said all of this without the high.
‘Oh.’ He took another drag. ‘Padma and I aren’t together anymore, either.’
‘Oh.’ Ginny didn’t allow herself to smile. ‘And are you happy or sad about that?’ she repeated his earlier words. His body lightly shook as he chuckled. It was light and raspy at the same time; Ginny wished she could have bottled that sound.
‘I’m more happy than sad,’ he replied. ‘Happy because I can think about you without feeling guilty. And I think about you a lot. Sad because we were friends before we started fooling around, and more than anyone outside my family, she was there for me after Anthony died. And I broke her heart by leading her on, so I don’t think we’ll ever get that back.’
She felt a pang in her chest, softly grabbing his hand and caressing his fingers. She liked the feeling of his tiny hairs. And then, ‘Way to bring down the mood,’ she joked. It was his turn to jokingly elbow her, though she was so short that he aimed for her arm rather than the side of her waist.
They sat in silence for a moment, letting it envelop them. It was nice. She felt him kiss her forehead at some point. When she decided to break the silence, her phone buzzed. And then it buzzed again. And then again. She internally groaned in frustration before pulling it out from her front pocket. There were five messages from the MANG group chat.
MAX: ginny ginny ginny
MAX: where are you???
NORAH: hunter just left
MAX: giinnnyyyy
ABBY: dude quit spamming just text her privately
And then a private text from Abby popped up.
ABBY: i’m giving u a fifteen second head start to get boy baker out of the locker room
ABBY: if you guys are still in there together
ABBY: we’re heading there now, i’ll just say i saw u go in there
Ginny gulped, leaning away from Marcus and standing up, which was a mistake as she felt her head sway. She hated feeling dizzy. It always led to nausea and she hated throwing up even more. Her fingers felt clammy as she typed a response.
GINNY: thanks
‘You have to go,’ Ginny said.
‘Bro squad?’ Marcus questioned with a knowing look on his face.
‘Uh-huh. I think Abby knows about us, too. Talk later?’
He stood up with ease, planting a kiss on the corner of Ginny’s mouth. It took all of her not to just turn her face so that she could feel his soft lips to satiate her for the next few days.
‘Later, neighbour,’ he saluted with a smile before leaving.
Ginny headed over to the mirror above the sink, making sure her face wasn’t too flushed. Before long, she heard the caterwaul that was a third of the usual MANG conversation. Max rushed in and went straight for the hug.
‘Aw, Ginny, we heard about your break-up with Hunter,’ she crooned. ‘Are you okay? Do we need to key his car? Or is it a Mamma Mia! kind of night? I don’t know how people watch sad movies after breakups. Not that I’ve had any, but it makes more sense to watch a happy movie, right?’
Ginny nodded, amused. ‘I, uh, I think I just wanna hang like usual, you know? I’m okay, really.’
Max hugged her tighter. She saw Norah and Abby standing a short distance away. Before Ginny could say anything, Abby lifted something out of her pocket. It was a bag of weed. Of course.
‘You guys wanna smoke the weed I stole from Press’s pocket?’
‘Fuck yeah,’ Norah grinned.
No one seemed to notice that the room already smelt like weed. And that the smell was already all over Ginny. But she smiled as best she could when they all went further into the locker room. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ as Abby nodded and skipped away.
Chapter 2: chapter two
Chapter Text
With a cacophony of giggles, MANG hopped out of Sophie Sanchez’s car and waved goodbye with wide smiles, making their way up to Ginny’s porch with bags of snacks and ramen swinging in their hands.
Sophie had offered to give them a ride to their final location considering they were high without the guys there to get them home safely. Wellsbury wasn’t an Uber kind of town, either, so their only options had been to hitch a ride or walk. And considering they weren’t legal yet, they figured it’d be a bad idea to walk around town while stoned out of their minds. Ginny doubted her mom and Paul were serious enough for him to look the other way if they’d been caught, though she supposed stranger things had happened. They’d asked Sophie to make a pit stop at the nearby convenience store where they’d bought stuff with Norah’s card. And then finally, they were at the Miller residence.
When Sophie drove off, they made kissy noises at Max before stumbling into the quiet house. Austin was on the sofa, eating cereal and watching cartoons. He greeted Ginny with a soft ‘Hey!’, laughing when Max lightly tackled him with a hug, careful not to disturb the bowl. The girls settled in the kitchen. Ginny grabbed one of the big pots and boiled some water while the girls opened multiple packets of ramen.
‘I’ll take the Carbonara,’ Norah said.
‘Habanero,’ Max chimed in.
‘Hm, I’m craving some heat, so Hot Chicken it is!’ Abby spoke.
‘Same,’ Ginny said, collecting all the noodles and putting them in the boiling water. ‘I love spicy food.’
‘The heat is addictive, right?’ Abby agreed. ‘My dad hates spicy food. He can barely handle black pepper. I think it’s the Midwestern in him.’ Upon seeing the questioning look on Ginny’s face, she continued. ‘He’s from Minnesota. Mom’s from Maine. Together they made a Massachusetts Baby.’ They all chuckled.
‘Isn’t that like, a stereotype or something?’ Norah questioned.
‘Maybe,’ Max shrugged. ‘But it is a thing, I think. The distribution of people who can handle crazy heat. The Midwest is like, the least tolerant. Or so I've heard.’
‘Why?’ Norah asked.
‘Colonialism, maybe,’ Ginny shrugged. She thought about getting into it with slavery and the Deep South and all of that but opted not to. ‘My mom’s from Georgia, so I guess she’s always known her way around spice and flavour.’
‘Wait, your mom’s from Georgia?’ Abby mused. ‘So, you and your brother . . .’
‘Yup!’ Ginny nodded. ‘I was born in Virginia and he was born in Austin, Texas. Then we moved to Houston, but that’s a whole thing. My mom and I even lived in New Orelans at some point.’
They chatted more about nothing and everything, and then the noodles were done. They each added their spices and sauces, after which they joined Austin in the living room.
‘Hey, kid,’ Abby began, ‘You ever seen Gravity Falls?’
Austin nodded. ‘I love Gravity Falls!’
Ginny tuned out the conversation as she heard Georgia come in with a huff. She carried with her a couple of small stacked boxes. Ginny got up and went to the kitchen, placing her bowl of ramen on the counter.
‘What’s all this?’ she asked.
Georgia waved her off. ‘Just some stuff for the mayor’s office. What’s going on here? I thought you were at that Battle of the Bands thing.’
‘We were,’ Ginny nodded. 'Then we came back here.’
‘To stink my house up with marijuana?’ Georgia raised her perfectly plucked brows. Ginny’s eyes widened. ‘Now Peach, I know I said I was cool with it the first time, but I’m not running a cannabis farm over here. What kind of parent would I be if I just let my fifteen-year-old smoke whenever she wanted?’
‘The cool kind?’ Ginny responded with a cheeky grin. Georgia playfully rolled her eyes. ‘I promise it’s not gonna be a thing, okay? They just wanted to cheer me up ‘cause Hunter and I broke up. Or stopped seeing each other. Whatever.’
‘What? Why? Did he do something to you? Did he pressure you?’ Georgia searched her daughter’s eyes for an answer.
‘No, nothing like that. It just . . . I didn’t like him as much as I thought. That’s all.’
‘Fireworks give out?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I’ll tell ya one thing,’ Georgia began, coming around to hold Ginny in her arms. Ginny breathed in her perfume. ‘Fireworks are overrated. Hell, sometimes they’re bad for you.’
‘Is there a secret message hidden in there?’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’ She kissed Ginny’s forehead, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured herself some red wine. ‘The girls sleeping over?’
‘Just Max, I think.’
‘Alright. Don’t stay up too late, okay? It may be Friday tomorrow but it’s still a school night. Why’d they even have Battle of the Bands on a Thursday, anyway?’ she muttered on her way up the stairs.
Ginny chuckled. As she grabbed her bowl from the counter, it became clear: The overrated fireworks in question were Marcus Baker. He was a no-go on the Mom Front. ‘But that’s okay,’ she nodded to herself. ‘Mom doesn’t have to know everything.’
‘So you have to force yourself to be friends with someone just so you’re more likely to have a healthy relationship?’ Abby questioned, feet dangling off the armchair as she munched some salted popcorn. She’d pulled her hair into a bun because it tickled the back of her lightly sweaty neck. ‘That sounds like a lot of effort that like, may not even go anywhere. Did you forget what generation you’re in? It ain’t the one with courtin’!’
Norah playfully groaned from the opposite armchair, placing her can of soda down on the coffee table. ‘Look, I’m not a psychiatrist or whatever, but yes, I do think it’s great to be friends with someone before you hop into a relationship. Not just for like, general health and safety and whatever, but to know you guys like each other, ‘cause loving someone and being in love with them isn’t the same as liking them. Like, as a person.’
‘You and Jordan like each other very much,’ Max teased. She was spread out over the sofa, head in Ginny’s lap.
'We do, yeah,’ Norah grinned. ‘All I’m saying is that you’ve never really been friends with Press. We’re all friends of friends and all that, like this group didn’t form naturally, but he was never really your friend. It feels like you’re using him to like, punish yourself. For what? I have no clue.’
There was a moment of silence. And then from Abby:
‘What do you think, Ginny?’
Ginny had been staunchly aware that she hadn’t been contributing to the conversation thus far. But she was having one of those moments where she was zapped out of her own body to watch the scene in the third person. It didn’t feel like she was actually there. It felt like she was watching the girls, somewhat intruding on their Girl Talk. With a prickle to the back of her neck, it felt like she had failed Teen Girl 101. But it wasn’t her fault she hadn’t taken it and only had the chance when she was approaching her sixteenth birthday. This was all foreign to her. She’d never had friends to bring over, especially not like this, talking and snacking into the night.
There was one time back in Houston when her Biology group had drawn straws to decide whose house they’d work at for their project. Ginny had drawn the shortest straw, and soon Kenny’s McMansion hosted four other kids. They’d looked around curiously, eyeing the decor (or lack thereof) and looking for a place to sit before Ginny escorted them to the dining room table, which was close to the kitchen for lunch snacks. Once they’d gotten to work, someone had asked if the AC could be turned down, and Ginny had responded that it was on the lowest it could be to avoid a strong chill while simultaneously keeping everyone from overheating. At the back of her mind, she’d wondered if the sterile environment had subconsciously manifested a cold chill. The place was grey and white, and the staff cleaned every mess before one even noticed it was there. It wasn’t a home.
But the Miller residence in Wellsbury was a home. She had best friends here, and they could lounge around in her living room without Ginny feeling awkward. The furniture was soft and the decor was warm and inviting, with plush cushions and aesthetically pleasing mismatched throw blankets. Granted, they weren’t working on a Biology assignment, so they could’ve pigged out as much as they wanted. But still, the feeling was all the same.
‘What do I think of what?’ Ginny questioned, softly playing with the loose strands of Max’s hair.
‘You think I’m using Press to punish myself?
‘I mean,’ Ginny began, ‘I’m not his biggest fan so maybe I’m a bit biased.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I don’t know what you see in him.’
‘To the point, I like it,’ Abby nodded, sitting up straight and crossing her legs. ‘You think he’s bad for me?’
‘Do you think he’s good for you?’ Ginny retorted.
‘Oooh, great question, Gin!’ Max said.
There was a beat of silence. Norah took another swig of her soda before placing it back on the coffee table and cracking her knuckles. Abby cringed at the sound.
‘I think people are complicated,’ Abby finally spoke with a huff. She picked up the remote, eyeing the catalogue and finally deciding on one of the Tinker Bell movies. ‘This conversation’s hurting my head. Wanna wrap it up?’
‘Okay,’ Norah said with an amused grin. Ginny got the sense Abby always changed the subject when she felt backed into a corner.
She couldn’t help her mind wandering into the Marcus of it all. If he was good or bad for her. He made her feel good, but to feel that good she did bad by hurting Hunter. But did she actually deeply hurt Hunter if he didn’t know about Marcus? Ginny internally groaned, opening another bag of chips.
Throwing a blanket over Max’s sleeping body, Ginny heard her phone buzz on her desk. She’d already changed into some lighter wear. She sat down at her desk and picked up the phone, eyeing the message.
MARCUS: bro squad still there?
GINNY: your sister’s sleeping over, doofus
MARCUS: damn
MARCUS: really wanted to see you
Ginny smiled. She turned back to see if Max was really sleeping, then made her way to the bathroom. Locking the door, she stood near the sink and mirror where the lighting was golden and snapped a selfie with a playfully pouty face. She then pressed SEND.
GINNY: now you see me
She waited a few seconds, eyeing the floating bubbles. And then the picture came through. He’d taken a selfie, too, wearing his black t-shirt and playfully flexing his muscles. They weren’t bad, just enough to match his lean body and not look overwhelming. It was probably one of her first spectacularly bad ideas, but she did it anyway. She went to the door to make sure it was truly locked, and then she pulled her baggy tee off. She took her sports bra off, too. Grabbing her white towel, she stood in front of the mirror and strategically covered her front, leaving enough space for some side boob and her bare back. She made sure her face wasn’t visible, though Marcus knew her body well, even if they’d only had disastrous sex the one time.
GINNY: sexy?
Ginny bit her lip, eyeing those damn bubbles again. And then she saw it. The fabled grey sweatpants. But more importantly, the boner they couldn’t conceal. She felt a flutter strong enough to make her tightly cross her legs as she leaned on the counter. A text popped up and Ginny smiled.
MARCUS: you’re killing me
She grabbed the lip balm she spied on the counter and buttered her lips, making them look even more soft and kissable. She made a smoochy face she hoped was cute and then sent it.
GINNY: goodnight
She placed her phone face down on the counter, determined not to ruin her perfect goodbye by stretching the conversation. Pulling her clothes back on, she looked at herself in the mirror. Nothing was different.
And yet . . .
Chapter 3: chapter three
Chapter Text
‘Oh, God,’ Ginny muttered. ‘Fuck.’ The early morning sun was beginning to peek through the closed curtains. ‘No,’ she groaned, tossing herself back on her bed.
‘Hey, it’s not that bad,’ Max softly smiled, tying her hair into a loose ponytail. ‘No one even knows it’s about you.’
Someone had uploaded Hunter’s song to YouTube and it was already sitting at four thousand views, the comments talking him up and in awe of the serenade. She scrolled further down, the thread a sea of red hearts. Huffing, she exited the app, putting her phone on the bedside table. She quickly made the bed, picking out a pair of jeans and a hoodie to wear to school.
‘I know, but it still makes me feel weird,’ she told Max. ‘I feel bad.’
‘What’s done is done, babe,’ Max shrugged. ‘I love him, obviously, but you were like, well within your rights as a young woman to break up with Hunter if you didn’t feel the same way he felt. No use stressing over it.’ She opened the curtains, after which she put on her shoes and gave Ginny a soft hug. ‘Seriously, don’t fret, alright? Hunter’s chill. If you’re not awkward about it, he’ll be fine. Besides, he’ll probably move on fast enough, anyway.’ Ginny didn’t feel she had the right, but she raised her eyebrow, anyway. ‘The song’s a total chick magnet. And if people find out his heart was broken? He’s literally golden.’
‘I guess that’s good for him,’ Ginny mumbled.
Max let out a big smile. ‘Great. I gotta get home. You want a ride?’
Ginny shook her head. ‘Georgia’s driving me.’
‘Cool. See you later!’
After she left, Ginny felt herself drawn to her phone again. She went back to the video, scrolling down the comment section. She paused when she saw a comment with a few replies. The person was trying to figure out who the song was about based on camera angles. Then Ginny’s eyes caught a particularly nasty comment: HALF BREEDS GONNA MAKE MORE HALF BREED BABIES. She felt the bile burning her throat, her eyes watering as she once again exited the app and threw her phone on the bed, heading to the bathroom for a shower.
The water was damn near scalding, but Ginny didn’t care. She shampooed and conditioned her hair. Exfoliated her skin with a honey and coconut body scrub. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin felt raw and until she soothed her choked sobs into light whimpers. She stood under the shower head for another minute or two, content to just let the water run down her face, and then she turned it off the water and dried herself. Standing in front of the mirror, she scrunched up her freshly-combed damp curls, eyeing the hair straightener on the counter. She ultimately decided against it, but there was an uncomfortable sensation pooling in her belly as she styled her hair in a pretty updo with some cute clips Georgia had bought a little while ago. She let a few tendrils down to frame her face and then went off to get dressed.
The living room wasn’t as messy as she’d thought, just some wrappers and packets here and there. She tidied up before sitting at the kitchen island and having a bowl of cereal.
‘Mornin’, Peach,’ Georgia chirped as she came into view. ‘Halloween tomorrow. Still up for our movie marathon?’ She popped two slices of whole wheat into the toaster, grabbed the butter from the fridge and turned on the espresso machine.
‘Uh, duh,’ Ginny grinned. ‘I think I finally cracked the perfect Halloween movie marathon. Scream, Black Swan, The Shining. The Shining is classic, obviously. Scream is camp; White people do the darndest things. Cap it off with Black Swan. It’s contemplative, nuanced, eerily disturbing, and has a message. I’m not sure what it is—’ Georgia chuckled, ‘—something to do with the two women mirroring each other. That constant need for perfection and adoration. Wow, am I a genius? Was that an off-the-cuff thesis or what?’
Ginny loved Halloween. Both Miller girls did. They loved taking in that stimulation of fear, appreciating the tension, threat, and foreboding as an art form. It was fear in a formula, and Georgia, especially, loved dissecting it. For as long as Ginny could remember, she and her mom had marathoned scary movies on Halloween, pigging out on the junkiest of junk food, snuggled up in their fluffy blankets on the sofa. She was so looking forward to tomorrow. Maybe she could invite Max.
Georgia buttered her toast, but her mind seemed far away. She jumped when Austin popped up from behind Ginny, taking a small bite of her toast with slightly shaking hands.
‘Mom, are you okay?’ Ginny questioned.
‘Peachy keen,’ she stiffly smiled. She took out a bowl and the milk and poured Austin his cereal.
‘Can I watch with you guys this year?’ Austin asked.
‘No,’ Ginny shook her head, but Georgia had said yes.
‘He’ll be fine. It’s just a scary movie,’ she said.
‘He’s gonna have nightmares,’ Ginny raised her eyebrow. ‘And he’s gonna wanna sleep in your bed for the next month.’
‘Well, I love snuggling with my babies,’ she grinned, coming around to pull Austin into a bear hug. Ginny’s heart warmed upon hearing Austin’s giggles. It wasn’t a competition, but she was sure she had the cutest little brother in the entire world. ‘By the way, your posters came earlier. I picked out some of my faves.’
‘You know, opening someone’s mail is a federal offence?’
‘Arrest me, then.’
Ginny playfully rolled her eyes, pulling out the posters and softly running her fingers over them.
‘I’m glad you’re decorating,’ Georgia spoke after a few beats of silence.
‘Well, you did say we’d put down roots,’ Ginny absentmindedly remarked. ‘I’m gonna take these upstairs.’
‘Hurry up. We’re leaving in two!’
Ginny and Max made it to Berry Tree with a huff. They’d just had a particularly difficult forty-five minutes in Gitten’s class. They had two papers due by next week, in addition to finishing off their presentations for their chosen free reads. Ginny was glad hers was over and done with. She took a sip of her water, chuckling as Maxine dramatically lounged on the floor. She’d have been disgusted if the custodians hadn’t kept the school so squeaky clean; Max was fine on the germ and dirt front.
'Hey,’ Ginny began, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. ‘So, every year, my mom and I have this tradition where we do a scary movie marathon and gorge on candy. Wanna join tomorrow?’
‘Ew, no,’ Max frowned.
Oh. Ginny was taken aback. A bit hurt, actually. Ew, no? Yeah, it hurt. Was it lame to spend Halloween watching movies and pigging out with her mom? Ouch again.
‘Girl, Halloween is like the sexiest holiday,’ Max continued. ‘We can’t stay in and watch movies like losers! It’s, like, my favourite holiday other than my birthday. We’re going to a party. Or something. Point is, we’re gonna get drunk and look sexy, yeah?’
Ginny nodded, but she felt a bit let down. She didn’t want to do all that. Then again, this was what teenagers did, right? She dug her nails into her palms, softly breathing in and out, in and out. She couldn’t let her panic show. To lighten the mood (for herself, at the very least), she spoke:
‘Unless your name is Jesus Christ, I don’t think your birthday counts as a holiday,’ she lightly joked.
‘That’s like, the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,’ Max pouted, before the girls giggled and moved on. The rest of the Bro Squad showed up, and soon they were talking about their Halloween plans. Brodie was throwing a Boos and Booze party in his basement, and the girls were going to wear a group costume. They hadn’t decided anything further than that, though. They were gonna figure it out later, considering they still had today and most of tomorrow to decide.
‘Hey, Max, Sophie’s coming over,’ Norah said. ‘You should invite her to the party.’
‘Uh, no?’ Max shook her head. ‘What, you want me to embarrass myself in front of one of the hottest seniors?’
‘I mean, she already saw you high,’ Ginny remarked.
‘Yeah, and seriously, I can’t listen to you whine about her for another million years, okay?’ Abby groaned. ‘Just ask her out.’
‘I just—’
‘—Hey, Max!’ Sophie spoke. She stood with her friend. ‘This my friend Kate.’ Kate looked up from her phone with a bored smile.
‘Sophie, hey,’ Max grinned. She also acknowledged Kate. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Good,’ Sophie nodded. ‘We were just talking about your friend Hunter’s song.’
‘Yeah, we totally love it,’ Kate said. ‘Wonder who it’s about. Lucky girl. Or guy. Whoever.’
MANG barely concealed their coughs of awkwardness.
‘It’s about a girl, definitely,’ Sophie said. ‘Aren’t people saying it’s that Samantha chick he dated last year?’
Abby scoffed. ‘She wishes.’ Norah playfully jabbed her arm.
Ginny softly chuckled. Upon seeing the semi-starstruck look on Max’s face, she took it upon herself to continue speaking. ‘Uh, Sophie, and Kate, if you guys don’t have any plans for Halloween, our friend Brodie’s having some people over. It’s gonna be chill. You guys should come.’
Sophie smiled, turning to face Max. ‘Max, are you gonna be there?’ She nodded with a barely contained grin. ‘Okay, cool, yeah. We’ll be there. Just send me the details, yeah?’
‘I will absolutely do that,’ Max grinned harder. When the two seniors walked away, she plopped to the ground once more. ‘Fuck. I’ve got a date with Sophie Sanchez. Well, it’s not a date-date. But we’re hanging at a party. Oh my God, guys, I’ve got a party hang with Sophie Sanchez,’ she cried out in happiness. ‘My costumes need to be so hot.’
‘Costumes? Plural?’ Ginny questioned in astonishment.
‘Absolutely,’ Max responded. ‘I cannot believe that just happened. Am I the coolest person in the world? ‘Cause I feel like I am.’
Ginny chuckled.
When the bell rang for the next period, the group dispersed. Ginny headed to her locker to swap out her books. She had a free period now. When she closed her locker and turned around, she caught a glimpse of Marcus about to walk past her. He wore a grey t-shirt that read FRIDAY, which was, in fact, the correct day of the week, and black jeans. His hair . . . God, his hair! It had that deliciously sexy 90s swoop, and she just loved it when he ran his fingers through it. She loved it even more when she ran her fingers through it. A small smile and a soft flush adorned her face as he gave her a quick wink when he walked past. His hands were marked with what looked to be charcoal, so he was probably heading over to the bathroom to wash it out.
She was tempted to go after him, maybe sneak a kiss or two or even just talk to him, but a part of her wanted to wait, wanted to sit in this little flirty stage for just a little while longer even though they’d already done more than that. Their sexts came to mind, and Ginny took a swig of water to calm herself down. Yeah, she wanted to wait. It’d be all the sweeter when they finally went there again.
She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. When, not if.
Chapter 4: chapter four
Chapter Text
14 MONTHS AGO
WELLSBURY, MASSACHUSETTS
MARCUS BAKER
The hallways are too loud. Too bright. Too many smiling faces. Marcus feels his feet dragging him to his locker. He doesn’t remember putting the combination in, but the thing opens. He grabs books. Or puts them back in. The locker closes with a light thud and then he’s walking to the guidance counselor's office.
He’s not in the reception area long before she calls him in. Dina McNulty’s one of the younger people on the Wellsbury High staff. She knows which lipstick colours suit her. Knows how to dress. And joke around. And actually have a productive conversation with the kids who are always in and out of here. If it had been any other time in his life, Marcus might be receptive to her words. But he's very much not. Not right now. She hands him a paper. Tells him that all of his teachers need to sign it and to bring it back to her at the end of the day. She smiles a sad smile. Soft, but sad. Marcus knows she feels really bad.
Can’t compare to what he’s feeling, though. Not even a little bit.
It feels like there’s a ball stuck in his throat. Water slowly pools in his eyes, though he supposes those pools never really drained. He taps his foot on the linoleum, trying to ground himself to reality. He can’t escape again, not right now. Can’t go to the bad place. He wants to scream. Or cry. Or maybe even both. McNulty hands him another piece of paper, this time with his schedule. It's changed, classes swapped out and shuffled around. They clearly don't think he'll be able to keep up with his first choices.
With a scratchy voice, he asks if he can drop his extracurriculars as well. He wants off the ski and lacrosse teams. She’s less thrilled to hear that. But he’s not gonna stick with them. He can’t. He feels out of his mind on his new medication. He’s not gonna wanna do sports, play for the team when whoever’s up in the sky clearly isn’t playing on his. He’s not sure what McNulty says after the sports thing, but he supposes she dismissed him because he’s back in the busy hallway. The bell rings. He goes to his first class. And then his second. And then the day kind of blurs together.
He remembers the tacos they served for lunch. He’s in his art class now. Practical, not theory. His teacher, Lee, just has them draw and paint and sketch whatever they’re feeling today. Marcus doesn’t wanna dwell on the fact that he may have changed today’s lesson plan because of him, wanting to make his transition back into academic mode less jarring, cause he’s been out for like, two and a half weeks. He mixes pencil and charcoal and paint, lost in space and time. The canvas is a blur and blop of black and grey, but it makes sense to him. The bell rings and Lee says they can just leave their work there and they’ll clean it up tomorrow. Marcus just barely slings the strap of his backpack on his shoulder when Lee approaches. Hits him with the obligatory questions and condolences. I’m fine, thank you. Yes, I’m feeling better. Marcus heads over to the bathroom to vomit. Rinses his mouth and heads over to his next class.
The end of the day sees him back in McNulty’s office. He hands her the paper with all the signatures and exits just as quickly. His phone buzzes as he heads for the parking lot.
ELLEN (MOM): Hey, sweetie. I'm gonna be about 15 minutes late. Do you want to wait or take the bus?
MARCUS: i'll take the bus
His fingers hover over the chat with the name BRIDGE. He shakes his head, swallows the lump in his throat and tucks his phone in his pocket. He thinks about walking, but he doesn’t know about all that. He wishes he’d brought his skateboard with him today. But it’s whatever. He hops on the bus, opting to sit near the front because he doesn’t want to draw eyes to him as he potentially makes his way down and out from the back of the bus. It was bad enough at school when he had many escape routes. But it’d be especially bad trapped in a bus. The bus doesn’t stop on his street, only on the one before just around the bend.
The cool air hits him just right as he steps out of the bus, kicking some fallen leaves as he makes his way home. The closer he gets to his house, the more his stomach starts to hurt. He doesn’t wanna deal with any questions. Doesn’t wanna talk to anyone. Or eat any of the after-school snacks his mom prepped. His eyes momentarily focus on the FOR SALE sign on the lawn across the street. The brick house has been vacant for just over a month now, the previous owners having retired to some small beach town in South Carolina. He makes his way inside. Goes upstairs to his room without checking if anyone’s home.
His bed feels warm, like a sanctuary. He kicks off his shoes, tucking himself in and sinking further into the mattress. He lies on his side. The closet door is open, and his stomach sinks to a deep dark place as his eyes land on the clothes hanging on a hook on the side. The black shirt and slacks are crisp, ironed and neat like he hadn’t worn them on one of the worst days of his life. He stares for another moment or two, and then he can’t help himself. He jumps out of his bed and rips the clothes from the hanger, breathing heavily as he pulls on his shoes and heads downstairs. His mom is there, just barely finished greeting him before he heads out to the backyard and shoves the clothes into the trash, grabbing his skateboard from the shed and heading back into the kitchen. He lets his mom know he’s going out for a ride. She protests, he thinks, maybe wants to know why he just stormed the kitchen. But he’s gone before she can even begin to catch up.
The air is still cool.
He’s still in despair.
But it’s not loud. It’s not too bright.
There aren’t any smiling faces on the street.
Chapter Text
They chose to go as Britney eras, and Ginny was going as Baby One More Time Britney.
Norah’s Toxic fit was her favourite, and deep down she wished she’d have picked it, but Max had said the schoolgirl outfit would suit her more. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but the entire thing had left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. The blonde wig was creating a sheet of sweat along her hairline; the skirt was shorter than she was used to without tights or panythose; and the open shirt situation had made her astutely aware of her lack of cleavage. She’d known it before by simply comparing her body to Georgia’s, as one did, but this was different.
Ginny had no frame of reference for what constituted a big or small basement, but Brodie’s had seemed huge when it was just the bro squad hanging out and suddenly small with all these people. Max had wanted maximum exposure for the costume reveal, so the party was in full swing by the time they’d arrived. Ginny had a couple of chips and dip, downed some beer that tasted gross, and when the dance circle had formed, she’d been pushed in but gave it her all, anyway, cause some guy told her to twerk. The crowd had cheered her on, so maybe she’d done it right. Or maybe the costume was hot and had made her look better than she actually was. Maybe she wouldn’t have as much luck at the next party, in her jeans and cute sweater where her thin figure would have little discernible proportions.
She was munching on her fifth handful of chips when she spotted Bracia coming down the stairs. She was alone, eyeing the place warily, but she’d smiled when she’d spotted Ginny, who headed towards her with one to match.The sequined tail had let her know that she was probably going as a mermaid. Right, there was going to be a live-action of The Little Mermaid soon.
‘Bracia,’ Ginny greeted, leaning in for a hug. The claws of awkwardness and apprehension had almost gripped her, but she was glad that Bracia had welcomed the hug. ‘Hey, you’re Halle Bailey. Ariel!’ She’d wondered why Bracia had opted to go without the red wig as she fought the urge to take off her own. Jesus, it was like the top part of her head was in a sauna. ‘Oh, that’s so good. You’re so pretty!’
‘Thanks,’ Bracia responded. ‘Uh, who are you?’
Ginny’s brows furrowed. ‘Er, I’m . . . Britney,’ she chuckled nervously. She gave her pink pom poms a little tap as she moved awkwardly. She wouldn’t have called it dancing, but it was sort of a little dance, she guessed? ‘You know, hit me baby one more time, ’ she softly sang. Sort of uneasily mumbled, really, and God —her shoulders had tensed almost immediately. What was going on? Maybe she should have gone for the pink and white outfit from the live performances.
‘No, I know who Britney is,’ Bracia said. ‘It’s just . . . that’s what you picked? Noted.’
Note—what? Was it the schoolgirl thing? Did Bracia think she was like, fetishising herself? But people wore costumes like this all the time. Was it—wait, was it the White thing? Ginny knew Bracia wouldn’t have so easily transformed into Britney. But it was just a costume, right? She could’ve if she wanted to. Right? Right?
Ginny gulped, her throat suddenly feeling really tight. Like how it did right before she cried. ‘I mean . . . It wasn’t . . .’ she cleared her throat. ‘It wasn’t my idea.’ Lie. ‘It was a group costume thing, so . . .’ That was the truth. ‘Um.’
‘It’s a nice costume,’ Bracia nodded. And yeah, it felt like she’d knocked over an axis somewhere and was suddenly off-kilter, shooting off into nowhereland .
‘Thanks,’ Ginny tightly smiled. ‘Excuse me.’ She made a beeline for the bathroom as she heard Max call out for Bracia. She was thankful she’d been over enough times to not get lost on her way. When she got there, Abby was just coming out, face just a bit flushed. On a different day, Ginny may have done an obligatory friend check-up, but her eyes felt like a dam straining against a weakening gate. She was gonna cry any minute. Right here in someone else’s bathroom. It was a nice bathroom. She stood before the mirror, assessing her features. She knew people like Samantha—well, grown up people like Samantha, were obsessed with the idea of mixed race babies. But everyone knew they were looking for a specific version: The Fair Skin, Light Eyes Prototype. Where people’s only hint to your identity was likely your hairstyle, that hairstyle changing the perception of your identity depending on your company. Or some arbitrary thing like style, and all that came with that Pandora's Box. Where you’re just mixed enough to be ‘exotic’ in your ambiguity and people couldn’t project anything onto you because they couldn’t immediately guess what your ethnic make-up was.
Samantha had once called Ginny exotic, but she’d never really felt that way. She had freckles, but her skin had never been fair. And there was the case of Georgia and Austin—growing up with them being paler and super blonde had left her feeling out of place at times. Standing next to them, it often felt like she was boxed into Black or Other. Other. She felt like that a lot. But they were a part of her, right? She was equal parts Georgia and Zion. Why should she have felt guilty about engaging with her White side? Why was the world trying to make her feel guilty? She wasn’t just one, Black or White. She was both . Wasn’t that The Thing in Black Hollywood? That Black was Black and Biracial was Biracial? So, what the hell was Bracia’s problem? In the mirror, she watched as the tears streaked down her face. Not just from her inner turmoil, but from the flame underneath her hand. Her palm burned, red-hot.
She needed that pain. As a scar, as a reminder.
Thirty minutes later, Ginny watched as Marcus tucked a drunk Max into bed.
With Abby’s flushed exit from the bathroom earlier, it seemed that three quarters of MANG’s night had been a bust. Stepping out into the hallway, Ginny took off her wig and breathed out in relief. She’d forgotten that she’d opted out of a wig cap and had instead straightened her hair and tied it into a little bun. Loosening the bun and running her fingers through her silky hair only made the tension in her shoulders increase, that deeply unsettling sensation in the pit of her stomach making a return. What was the matter with her? Why did she have to feel everything so deeply all the time?
'Hey,’ Marcus said, and she slightly jumped when he touched her side. ‘You okay?’
Ginny exhaled. It was like she could feel her palms thanking her from relieving her from her nails pressing into them. ‘Yeah,’ she smiled. Hoped it was believable. ‘Just had a weird night.’
‘Well, you are dressed as Britney Spears.’ She didn’t press into his remark. ‘Cute costume.’
She almost blushed. Almost. ‘I’m kinda over it, to be honest.’
‘Was the party that bad?’
A shrug. ‘Just wasn’t what I was expecting. It kinda peaked when we made our grand entrance.
‘Conceited much?’ he joked.
She playfully punched his arm. ‘I meant for me, dummy. I wasn’t really aware of what everyone else was doing, but they seemed to be having fun.’
He nodded. ‘You hungry?’
‘What?’
‘Have you eaten?’
‘Do I look emaciated or something?’ she rolled her eyes. Couldn’t help it.
Marcus threw his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Woah. I was just asking to be polite. You know, like when people offer you a glass of water. Or tea and cookies. Are you feeling alright?’
She breathed. Closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. They’d quieted down since earlier, but she was still tense. She massaged her temples. ‘I . . . Yeah. I must just be cranky from hunger. I only had chips and beer.’
Marcus looked at her like he was unsure of his next move. His brows furrowed as he gently bit his lip. ‘Okay then,’ he finally said. ‘I’ve got mac ‘n cheese in my room if you want.’
‘Why in your room?’
‘I was peacefully enjoying my dinner before you and Max came stumbling upstairs.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s fine. Do you want a separate bowl? Or do you wanna share?’
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘Share.’ Her voice was soft, gentle.
‘Okay,’ he responded in kind. ‘Wait in my room. It should still be warm. I’m gonna go check on Max real quick.’ She nodded. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss right next to her lips.
‘Tease,’ she murmured before she could help it.
She heard him chuckle as he disappeared into Max’s room, and she into his. It was all dark and moody. The curtains were dark. The bedding was dark. Next to the bowl of mac, the lamp was on. And so was the one on his desk. The only pop of colour seemed to be the eye mural on his wall. It was pretty. Ginny was suddenly glad to be decorating her room. She sighed somewhat blissfully as she took off her shoes, placing the wig on his desk. She slipped off the cardigan, too, and undid the knot on her shirt. When she sat down on Marcus’s bed, it was like she was engulfed in a cloud of only his scent. It was laundry detergent mixed with something else, and it frustrated her that she couldn’t pin it down. She grabbed the bowl and fork, taking a bite of the mac. It was good. Cheesy in that delicious gooey way. The crisp from the top was especially good. Two bites later, Marcus came into the room.
‘Max asleep?’ she questioned, moving to the other side of the bed.
He plopped down with a groan. ‘She’s literally the worst.’
‘Why?’ she giggled, softly scratching his scalp.
‘She did that stupid bloody mouth trick.’
‘Oh my God, she literally did that to me the other day. Like, what the hell?’
‘That’s Max for ya.’ He sat back up. ‘I mean, usually it’s like whatever, but she’s obviously drunk and the situation looked scary.’
‘She’s goofy, but I guess I never really took her for a prankster.’
‘Just on the holidays,’ Marcus huffed, taking a bite of his mac. ‘Used to be fun when we tag-teamed mom and dad, though.’
Ginny smiled. ‘That must've been cool. Being a twin, too. You’ve got a built-in best friend. Or partner in crime.’
‘I should’ve strangled her in the womb.’
A small grin spread across her face. ‘Funny. She said the same thing about you.’
He rolled his eyes. Took a forkful of mac and pointed it towards her. She opened her mouth as he leaned forward. His face was so close. When he pulled the fork out, it was slow, almost teasing. On her part or his? She wasn’t sure. But she liked it. It was funny—they’d already kissed. Had sex, even. But it felt like they were starting over, and that lone butterfly in her stomach that day they’d officially met at school had multiplied. It all felt different now. Better. Probably healthier. Kinda. She’d blinked and then suddenly his lips were on her neck and God. God. How could she have been so casual about it the first time? How couldn’t she have savoured it? They’d just jumped right into it. No foreplay. Just heated glances and awkward movements.
She let a gasp out when she felt him nip at her skin. She tightened her grip on the hairs at the base of his skull, pulled him in closer when she realised he wanted to leave a mark. She wanted it, too. When he lifted his head, his lips looked so pink, so kissable. And so she did, both of them smiling into it as they shifted into a more comfortable position. Marcus slowly took off her shirt, leaving her in just the skirt and bandeau. She watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, eyes trailing over her chest as they clouded over. And then she felt it, somehow hard and not at the same time—it made her shudder, almost clench around him. Their foreheads pressed together. Breaths shallow. Ginny’s hands found their way to Marcus’s, intertwining them. It was to calm her nerves. To ground her—tether her—to earth as she began grinding against him, floating away to a faraway place. Their lips met again, Marcus letting go of her hands and instead placing them on her hips, helping her along as their chests heaved. She could’ve cried from the fluttering sensation. She’d never felt that good before. She hadn’t worn anything but panties underneath the skirt. And Marcus was straining against his sweatpants.
‘Do you wanna stop?’ Marcus swallowed. His voice sounded deeper than usual and it made Ginny very aware of the heat pooling in her panties.
‘God, no,’ she whimpered. Like a fiend. Like an addict. She motioned for Marcus to take off his t-shirt, and then she took off her top. Their lips met once more as they were skin to skin. ‘Did you lock the door after you came in?’ she breathed.
‘You really want me to get up and go check?’ he questioned. Jokingly, of course. But she heard that whiny need in his voice. She closed her eyes as he peppered kisses on her breasts.
‘I really don’t want anyone to barge in here,’ she sighed in bliss, nipples hardening from his thumbs caressing them.
‘As you wish,’ he murmured. He gave her a kiss on the jaw before getting up. The air was suddenly cold. She wanted to cover herself up, but it felt weird to do so. So she opted to take off her skirt and underwear and socks before she got underneath the blanket. With her hands on the waistband of her skirt, fingers on the zip, she was about to pull it down when: ‘Leave the skirt on.’
‘What?’ Ginny asked, brows furrowed in confusion. ‘You don’t wanna . . .’
‘No, I do,’ Marcus shook his head, voice soft. ‘I just . . . I want you to keep the bottom half of the outfit on.’ He sauntered over to her, sitting down in front of her. Tucked her hair behind her ear.
‘Oh.’ The memory of watching porn with the girls suddenly sprang to mind. All those categories and subcategories. ‘Is this a kink thing? ‘Cuz I didn’t know we were there yet. Not that that’s a place we’re gonna go. I don’t know if I even have any kinks. And—’
He kissed her. It was very soft. Ginny was so lost in it that she only realised her underwear was coming off when it was around her knees. She was shocked for a moment. Face flushed. Trying to catch her breath. But Marcus was looking at her in that way that made her knees weak. Made her pulse quicken. So she helped him with it the rest of the way, the heat between her thighs hot and wet. He laid her down on the bed. She knew his cock straining against his sweats was killing him as he eyed her from above. With kisses peppered along her inner thigh, her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as he neared her pulsating core. She clenched his sheets in her fists as she watched his head disappear underneath her skirt.
And yeah— yeah. She understood why he wanted her to keep her skirt on.
Notes:
thank you so much for the love on the fic! truly appreciate you guys :)
Chapter Text
A while back, Ginny had read about women’s legs shaking after intense orgasms. Muscle contractions and all that.
Considering her first time with Marcus, her first time ever, had been such a disaster, she’d shrugged it off. Figured it was some super rare thing only achieved by sex goddesses with long legs and perfect breasts with magic sex moves. For God’s sake, she hadn’t even had an orgasm that first time. But tonight? She’d felt all of it. Had two orgasms, even. Two! The ghost of Marcus’s lips on her clit and him sliding in and out of her made her shut her legs, shut her eyes, drown out everything but their shallow breaths as they lay naked on his sheets. Her forehead was sticky with sweat. She was a different kind of sticky down there, too. It felt kinda gross, but she didn’t care. It was a reminder of him. Of what they did. Together. With softness and roughness in all the right places.
‘Jesus, that was . . .’ Ginny gulped. She tried to collect herself, form a coherent thought or something. ‘Wow. I didn’t know it could . . . feel . . . like that.’
He chuckled. ‘Well, I wasn’t a virgin this time. Plus, I did some Googling.’
Ginny’s eyes widened as she immediately turned to her side. Her boobs probably looked smushed from this angle, tempting her to pull the duvet over her body. ‘Wait, what?’
‘Not in a creepy way or anything,’ he shook his head. ‘I just wanted to do some research, understand exactly where everything is. How to make a girl—well, you , feel good.’ Ginny blushed deeply. She turned her head the other way for a moment just to get a giddy smile out. She felt Marcus shift a little, then she turned back. His eyes were so, so warm. His entire face was. That hair— God, that hair.
‘Well, it definitely paid off,’ Ginny lightly laughed. ‘Student becomes the master and all that.’ They wore matching grins. ‘But I, uh, I was more so confused by the virgin thing? Were you really . . ? That first time?’ He nodded somewhat bashfully. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He tilted his head. Threw a shy smile her way. ‘I wanted you to think I was cool.’
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. ‘That’s such a guy thing to do.’
‘I wish I’d told you. That night,’ he continued. She inched closer to him. ‘I keep thinking it might have made you see things differently, I guess? With the whole not prioritising female pleasure thing?’ Ginny flushed. ‘I’m not like, blaming you or anything. I just . . . I wish you’d known then that it wasn’t some malicious, douchebag thing. Well, the leaving right after was. But the actual sex. I was genuinely just a dumbass who didn’t know what he was doing.’
Ginny hummed. ‘We were both dumbasses, I think. You more than me, obviously.’ He chuckled at that. ‘It didn’t hurt as much as I thought, surprisingly.’
‘It hurt?’ Marcus’s brows furrowed in concern.
‘Well, it was my first time, and you did sorta get in there with no foreplay.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised with a small frown on his face. She shrugged. He pulled her close so that she was kind of lying on top of him. He clasped their hands together as they rested on his chest. They lay in silence for a few moments. Just to let themselves breathe. Bask in their afterglow. And then: ‘I really like you, Ginny.’
She let out a full smile. Sorta shy, sorta excited. ‘I really like you, too, Marcus. Probably think about you more than I should.’
‘I know the feeling.’ They stared into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It made her feel warm, like serenity blanketed her. She wanted to live in that feeling. Call it home. ‘You wanna be my girlfriend?’
Her stomach fluttered. ‘I thought you didn’t do girlfriends,’ she mocked with a playful imitation of his voice.
‘You’re always gonna be the exception,’ he simply said, and suddenly everything felt so serious. So real. This was her real life. ‘Everything I do. Everything I feel. I think you exist on a different plane in my reality or something. A higher plane, where things are like, soft and peaceful.’
This boy . . . ‘Yeah,’ Ginny swallowed. That flutter returned. ‘I know the feeling,’ she repeated his earlier words. Then: ‘I wanna be your girlfriend.’ He leaned in, and thus, with a kiss, Ginny died. She felt her body go sorta limp as she and Marcus fell into a new rhythm. His kiss was soft and gentle, hands caressing the side of her face. She could have done this forever. But the other part of reality always had a way of creeping back in, so she pulled away gently. ‘I should probably head home.’
Marcus frowned. ‘Sure you don’t wanna spend the night?’
‘I do,’ she breathed. He planted another kiss on her lips, and they fell into it again. ‘I absolutely do,’ she mumbled against his lips. He pulled away with a chuckle and a grin. ‘But Georgia’s not gonna be happy to find out I spent the night with a guy.’
‘Well, it’s a good thing this guy lives in the same house as your best friend,’ he shrugged. And that was true. ‘Perfect excuse. She doesn’t have to know, and Max’ll be too hungover to notice anything.’
She cracked a grin. Softly caressed his cheek. ‘Are you peer pressuring me right now?’
He shook his head. ‘Just a boyfriend who wants to spend time with his girlfriend.’
‘Boyfriend,’ she whispered, still in disbelief. Her stomach fluttered again. ‘Hey, look, that’s Marcus Baker, Ginny Miller’s boyfriend.’
‘Oh, that new girl Ginny? Yeah, we’re going out now. She’s very cool.’ A kiss. ‘And she’s really pretty.’ A longer kiss. ‘And she’s like, really freaky . . .’
‘Okay,’ Ginny laughed, placing a hand over his mouth. ‘That’s enough outta you, pretty boy. I’ll stay the night, you fiend.’
‘Only the fiendiest.’
‘You need help.’
‘The Love Doctor prescribed me some kisses, actually. Said I’m Ginny Deficient.’
‘Mm . . .’ Ginny hummed. There were probably stars in her eyes. ‘What do you plan on doing about that?’
Marcus pretended to ponder. Then, he pulled her body close so that she was fully on top of him. And God, the way he looked at her was just . . . She finally understood what it meant for someone to take your breath away. ‘Well, we’re officially lovers now. What do lovers do?’
Another kiss.
Another round.
She was in nirvana.
Her walk home had a certain lightness to it. Like she was walking on air. But what was it they said again? What goes up must come down? She was floating in the most perfect bliss a few hours ago, so naturally, the universe had to bring her back down to earth.
First sign of trouble: She’d climbed up to her window, but found that it was shut. With a huff, she’d scaled back down.
Second sign of trouble: Georgia had opened the door before Ginny could knock, a sickly sweet smile on her face.
‘Daughter,’ she greeted. ‘I see you’re dressed for your walk of shame.’ Embarrassed and annoyed, Ginny buttoned up her cardigan. Her blonde wig was still in hand, and her skirt suddenly felt entirely too short. She crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. ‘I didn’t hear a car pull up. Did you walk home?’
‘I spent the night at Max’s,’ Ginny said. Technically the truth.
‘Right,’ Georgia nodded, slightly leaning against the doorframe.
‘I don’t know why you’re so sceptical, just ask Ellen.’ She wished she hadn’t said that because she didn’t want a hungover Max to be caught off-guard by her mother checking in on her.
‘It’s okay, I believe you.’
‘Okay then.’
‘Alright.’
Ginny quirked a brow. ‘Is there a reason I’m still on the porch?’
Her mother paused, bit her lower lip. She looked nervous. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’
‘ Okay . . .’
‘And I don’t—’
‘Mar—Georgia , where’d you keep the spices? Your kitchen’s a damn maze,’ an unfamiliar voice spoke from inside.
Georgia shut her eyes. ‘Damn it, Maddie,’ she harshly whispered, turning around and allowing Ginny to come in.
Third sign of trouble: There were suitcases by the staircase. Ginny’s first instinct had been to panic, but the bags looked unfamiliar. A little rough around the edges, if she was being honest. Very unlike Georgia Miller.
She spied Austin cackling on the sofa beside another kid. He was taller, with blonde hair probably long enough to tie up in a ponytail. He looked vaguely familiar. In the kitchen stood a woman with long hair and— oh.
‘Morning, Ginny,’ the woman greeted like they knew each other.
‘Hi,’ Ginny said. ‘Didn't I wait on you at Blue Farm yesterday?’
‘Uh-huh,’ she nodded, popping her gum. ‘That’s a cute outfit you got on there. Filmed a Britney Spears music video last night?’ A pang of guilt hit Ginny square in the chest thinking about her friends saying she was giving off a Medicated Brtiney vibe. But she looked plenty healthy right now. Kinda.
‘Uh, no,’ she nervously chuckled. ‘My friends and I went to this Halloween party at our other friends’ place.’
‘Ugh, I miss high school,’ she—Georgia called her Maddie, right? She turned over what looked to be an omelette, which looked kinda good. But Ginny suddenly remembered the bags, and the other kid in the lounge, and then realised that this Maddie person seemed strangely comfortable cooking in their kitchen.
‘I’m sorry, not to be rude, but what’s going on? Why are there bags in the hall? Who are you?’
Ginny heard Georgia exhale from behind her, which startled her because she’d forgotten she was even there. She was sitting at the table, rubbing her temples. ‘Uh, Ginny—’ Georgia began.
Austin came bursting in with the other kid. ‘Mom! Mom! Is it okay if Caleb and I set up a tent in the backyard and take some blankets, too?’
‘We don’t have a tent,’ Georgia replied.
‘Yeah, but Caleb does. He brought it.’
Who were these people? Ginny glared at her mother expectantly, arms crossed, unconsciously tapping her foot on the floor. She wanted to get these heels off.
‘Ginny, meet your cousin Caleb and your aunt Maddie,’ she sighed.
A laugh escaped Ginny’s lips before she could comprehend it. Because what? That didn’t make sense. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Mom? You don’t have a sister,’ she chuckled, shaking her head in confusion. Georgia was sitting up straight, like she was in family court or something, trying to be perfectly neutral in front of the judge. ‘You said you didn’t have any family, remember? That your parents were dead? That it was just the three of us.’
‘Oh, our parents aren’t dead,’ Maddie chimed in from behind the island. She took a sip of wine. Turned off the oven. ‘They’re still down in Alabama. Wasting away in that same damn town. Least Georgia here made it out.’
‘Maddie,’ Georgia warned, glaring at her sister.
‘Made it out? What are you talking about? I thought you grew up in Georgia.’
Georgia sent another glare Maddie’s way, and she took that as a sign to leave. She plated the omelette and handed it off to Caleb as she took her glass of wine. Both of them exited out the back door. When it shut, Ginny threw the wig on the table.
‘A sister? A cousin? What the fuck, mom?’ she barked.
‘Language.’
Ginny scoffed with an eye roll. ‘Why are they here?’
‘I don’t know,’ she shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen Maddie in over a decade.’
‘What kind of siblings don’t talk to each other for over a decade?’
Georgia took a deep breath. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know, Ginny.’
‘Like the fact that you have a sister and nephew? That you grew up in Alabama and your parents are still alive?’
‘I like them,’ Austin said in a soft voice, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
‘Shut up, Austin!’ Ginny snarled. She felt a little bad upon seeing the frown on his face, but a demon had taken over. She was an ugly thing, all sharp edges and jagged teeth, pulling Ginny further and further into the void.
‘Hey! That’s not how you talk to your brother!’ Georgia scolded.
Ginny sarcastically laughed. Couldn’t believe her ears. ‘That’s rich coming from you,’ she scoffed. ‘Though that it is your M.O., isn’t it? Lecturing me about shit you’ve done a million times over.’
‘Ginny!’
‘Know what? I’m so pissed that I let myself believe you when you said this place would be different.’
‘It is,’ Georgia swallowed. She stood up, trying to take hold of Ginny’s hands. But Ginny only pushed her away. Took two steps back.
Sniffling, she said: “Liar.’ She hadn’t even realised tears were pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill out. ‘You’re just so . . . ugh! I’ve got friends here, Mom. I-I decorated. I even have a—’ she almost confessed to having a boyfriend in Marcus, but she held her tongue. Opted to shake her head again. ‘Doesnt’t even matter. ‘Cuz it’s not different at all, is it? You know, other moms just stick to the bake sales and the chaperoning. But not my mom, right? My mom asks teenage boys for pot. She dates her boss and has secret relatives.’
Georgia had the nerve to look offended. ‘Virginia!’
‘Screw you, Georgia,’ Her words surprised her. But she didn’t allow herself time to sit with her words, to truly understand what it meant to not only cuss her mom out, but to call her by name to her face in a fit of anger. ‘You will not be the reason I don’t get to live this life.’
Georgia let out a dry laugh. Shook her head. ‘Understand just who you're talking to, alright? I have broken my back giving you every opportunity I never had. I got you here. I built this life for us. For you.’
‘And you’re burning it to the ground, just like you always do. You ruin everything! You walk around thinking your touch is golden, but really, you just rot everything around us, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you,’ Ginny seethed. She grabbed the wig and practically sprinted upstairs, slamming her bedroom door as she collapsed into her bed with a soft scream.
Ginny lasted five hours before she not only had to pee, but had to curb her light hunger pains. She’d changed into a pair of sweats and a hoodie, quickly doing her business and heading downstairs. The pan from the omelette was still on the stove. Ginny wondered if her mom was even home because there were never any dishes in the sink. The Millers were a ‘clean as you go along’ family. Ginny was so used to everyone cleaning up after themselves that she’d forgotten when the last time she actually ‘did the dishes’ was.
Staring at the inside of the fridge, she didn’t find anything particularly appetising. People always spoke of how a fridge could tell you a lot about a household. Georgia’s fridge had the usual milk, orange juice, and sauces. Some cheese and ham slices. Butter and eggs. Some leftover fruit from yesterday’s breakfast. A couple of vegetables and a huge watermelon. A couple of soda cans. She also had that yoghurt she used to eat a lot back in Fort Worth. It was a perfectly normal fridge, but Ginny couldn’t help but find it fake. Phony. Like Georgia was an actress, and this was her set decoration. A light scoff left her lips as she eyed the bowl of fruit on the kitchen island. She thought of the tubs of ice cream stuffed in the freezer. The bags of chips and cookies in various cupboards. Ginny can’t remember the last time they’d had a fully balanced meal. It’s not like she was a health nut or anything, but she grew tired of the junk.
Irritably, she grabbed her favourite mug and poured herself some coffee. She wasn’t a coffee girl, but at least the caffeine would suppress her appetite for a little while. Though she knew she didn’t have the strength to eat it, she grabbed an apple from the bowl and sat down at the table. No sooner than three minutes after she sat down did the front door open. She heard Georgia curse and then watched her head into the kitchen, placing a bag from Blue Farm on the counter and some drinks. The food smelled good, and Ginny’s stomach grumbled, so she took another sip of coffee, turning away from Georgia. Getting up almost seemed too petty, and she wished she’d have brought her phone or a book down with her.
‘I know you’re hungry,’ she heard Georgia announce. She had that teasing tone in her voice, but it wasn’t all humorous. It sounded more like mocking to Ginny's ears, though her mother's words were currently being filtered through the tension from their earlier argument. ‘You always rub your thumb against your ring finger when you're starving.’ Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘Here, you grouch.’ She came over and placed a takeout box on the table, sitting down in the opposite chair. ‘Smoked salmon on a toasted bagel. Soft herb cheese base, spring onion instead of red onion, and fries. Salt only. Honey mustard dip on the side. Did I get that right?’
A wry smile from Ginny. ‘I take my fries with ranch.’
Georgia snapped her fingers. ‘I knew it! Joe said you liked honey mustard, but I knew it was ranch.’
‘He probably just wanted to get back at me for the other day,’ she sighed. Played with her apple.
‘What happened the other day?’
‘I was working and Max was talking to me about Soph—’ Upon seeing the hopeful look on her mother’s face, Ginny stopped talking. She just couldn’t bring herself to act like things were normal between them. Georgia couldn’t just drop some food in her lap and hope to joke and chat with her like there wasn’t this black ocean between them. ‘Never mind,’ she sighed. Standing up, she bit into her apple and picked up her mug. God, that bagel sounded so good. Her mouth was practically salivating. If she drooled, she hoped Georgia simply assumed it was juice from her apple. ‘And I’m not hungry.’
‘I hear your stomach grumbling,’ Georgia said, that sickly sweet grin returning.
‘It’s mad at you, too.’
‘Ginny, take the damn food. Consider it a momentary truce. I won’t hold it against you, and you don’t have to feel any type of way about letting me nourish you.’
An eye roll. ‘For once in your life, can you just not?’
Georgia snorted, shaking her head. ‘How lucky am I? Getting years' worth of attitude and rebellion in what, four, five hours?’
‘Whatever, mom.’
‘So I guess our Halloween Marathon is off?’ Georgia called out as Ginny stomped up the stairs.
Aaaahh, why do I have to be so stubborn?! Ginny screamed at herself after shutting her bedroom door. She went over to the window and looked across the street, but Marcus’s curtains were drawn shut. Groaning, she fell back on her bed. She hated being alone with her thoughts, and lately, they were just all over the place. She needed it all to just . . . stop. Stop forever. For just a minute. She was thankful her phone buzzed when it did.
MAX: you wanna hang at brodie’s?
Ginny sighed. Between the bong incident, watching Padma rehearse with Hunter, and the Boos and Booze party yesterday, Brodie’s basement was beginning to look like a radioactive zone where all of Ginny’s insecurities came out to play. Each time she left, they left their print all over the place, growing bigger and stronger with every visit. Like some kind of fungus was taking root behind the walls, creeping through corners and crevices. She bit her lower lip. Deeply inhaled and exhaled. Fuck it, she thought. I need to get out of this damn house.
GINNY: yeah. I’ll be at yours in five min :)
Notes:
I feel like the mother-daughter fights always reveal a lot about their deepest, ugly feelings (Ginny more than Georgia), even if their status quo is less intense (sorta). so, their sections of the chapter were fun to write cause I love really getting into their heads.
anyway, thanks so much for reading! as always, comments are appreciated 'cuz I love hearing from you guys :)
Chapter 7: chapter seven
Notes:
I was gonna do it anyway, but in honour of ginny & georgia s3 and s3e1 expanding on marcus's history with his friend (I won't elaborate further cause of spoilers), I'm letting you know the next chapter will be in his POV.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ginny Miller’s Guide to Getting Triggered
- Discover your mother has a secret sister and nephew, and that her parents did not, in fact, die in a boating accident.
- Find out your little brother stabbed a kid in the hand and got suspended from school.
- Argue with your brick wall of a mother about getting said little brother help (in the form of therapy) for his emotional regulation (or lack thereof).
- Scream into the void: MY FAMILY’S A SHITSHOW. MY FAMILY’S A SHITSHOW. MY FAMILY’S A SHITSHOW.
- Get increasingly upset that you haven’t seen your father in months.
‘Kid, quit wasting paper!’ Marcus bellowed with an amused grin on his face. His face peeked from behind the easel, the sunlight hitting his face enough for him to squint just a bit as he faced Ginny. His eyes were on all the crumpled pieces of paper by her feet.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
They were in the art room. There was no class scheduled for this time, and Marcus had a good relationship with the teacher, so they’d been allowed in. Ginny had her free right now and was pretty sure Marcus was ditching Chem, but she hadn’t pestered him about it. He seemed a bit out of sorts, truthfully speaking, and she made a mental note to ask him what was up when they were in the comfort of either one of their bedrooms. Those seemed to be their only safe spaces these days. Maddie and Caleb had been at the Miller house for three days now. They’d gotten quite comfortable, too, and it made Ginny sick. She’d been spending as much time at the Bakers' and Blue Farm as she could, but Georgia had caught on and demanded she be home for dinner tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after that.
‘You wanna talk about it?’
She gave him a pointed look. ‘Haven’t I talked about it enough? I feel like one of those people who peaked in high school who are like, in their forties, still clinging on to their football or cheerleading days when they were hot shit. Talking about that one legendary football game or something.’
‘Interesting analogy,’ Marcus chuckled.
‘Point is,’ Ginny huffed, ‘I don’t have anything new to say. And I feel like you’re getting annoyed with me. How many different ways can I groan about how much my mom sucks before your ears start to bleed?’ She picked up the crumpled balls of paper on the floor and tossed them in the garbage one by one.
He shrugged. ‘Well, she’s anti-therapy, so I’ll help you through your shit. I’m all ears. Always.’
‘I don’t think that’s healthy,’ she smiled softly. She sat down on the stool in front of him. He was painting something. Or sketching or drawing. Whatever. The point was he didn’t want her to see what it was. If grand gestures in film and television had taught her anything, it was that if one was dating an artist, chances are they’d receive a portrait of themselves at some point. He could probably tell she knew, but they both let themselves live in the mystery of it all.
‘What teenage love story has ever been healthy?’
A grin tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘Love story, huh? Is that what we are?’
He rolled his eyes, but the ghost of that soft smile of his was all over his face. With careful consideration, he continued, ‘In the abstract.’
‘Me no understand your big artsy words,’ Ginny teased, laughing as he rolled his eyes once more. He placed his pencil down on the easel. ‘I’m kidding. I know what abstract means. And I understand what you mean. Kinda.’
A quirk of the brow. ‘Kinda?’
She huffed, shaking her head. ‘Yeah? Maybe? I don’t know.’ She closed her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Her eyes opened to find Marcus’s concerned face staring back at her, all furrowed brows and frowned lips. ‘Are you scared of it? Love?’
‘Am I scared of love?’ he repeated, eyes sort of widened in surprise, maybe?
‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘Like everyone thinks it’s so beautiful. Such a fairytale. But I know better, I think. I’ve seen my parents and what love’s done to them. It never lets them be fully happy without the other. Never lets them separate. And it’s like . . . parasitic , in a way. It’s . . . it’s painful and inconvenient and . . .’ she sighed, scratching her brow as the words just poured right out of her without a filter. ‘. . . I kinda don’t trust it. And that just makes my head spin ‘cuz I don’t wanna live like that, thinking it’s so bad. And scary. But scary’s good sometimes, right? And like, I trust you. I trust us , even though we’ve barely been an us, but I feel like I could love you in a better way than I’ve seen with my parents.’ Ginny let out a long breath after her tangent, hand on her chest as she felt it rise and fall. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then—‘Oh my God. Oh my God , that was a lot.’ Her hands covered her mouth in shock, then dropped again from, well, shock. ‘What the hell was I even talking about? Oh, God. I didn’t—I’m not saying you’re in love with me, or that I’m in love with you —but I’m not not saying that? Shit! I’m dreaming, right? Yeah, that’s what this is. I’m just—’
Warmth. Softness. Plumpness . Her body felt like it was bathed in sunshine. His kiss was honey, and she was savouring every drop. She lathered it up like it was the last thing that would ever grace her lips, like it was her first sip of water after being lost in the desert for days upon weeks upon months upon freaking eons. Their foreheads touched, and when her eyes opened, Marcus pulled away and planted a kiss on her nose. And cheek. And temple. And then the pulse point on her neck, which—Jesus. She willed her eyes not to shut again, fought not to fall into that velvety pool that made her heart sing and legs cross to mitigate the intense pulsating between her legs.
But in true idiot fashion: ‘Marcus . . .’ she whispered, hand clinging to his bicep. She’d almost forgotten she was sitting on a stool.
‘You didn’t let me get a word in earlier,’ he breathed against her skin.
She gulped. ‘Is this your revenge?’
A soft laugh. He was nipping at her collarbone now. Little bites and nibbles. ‘Not revenge, no.’
‘No?’ she breathed, eyes finding his as he leaned back. ‘You’re not trying to punish me for talking too much?’
‘Do you want me to punish you?’
The words escaped her lips before she could process them. ‘I think I’d let you do whatever you want to me.’ As he chuckled, her legs closed around his waist because— woah ? When did he lift her up, and when did they move to the table?
‘Well, I don’t think I’m into all of that,’ he said.
‘Good to know,’ she replied.
They only pulled apart when it felt like their lips were beginning to bruise.
And because Marcus had left three hickeys on her, and she’d sort of panicked. Not push him away type panic, but how the hell am I gonna cover these up panic. Their chests heaved, heartbeats still racing. They pulled themselves together with soft giggles, all shy and embarrassed. T-shirts and sweaters were rearranged, and jeans buttoned once more. A hand through Marcus’s fluffy hair and a gentle hand comb through Ginny’s curls. According to the clock on the wall, they still had about twenty minutes before the next block. As a gentle wind hissed through the crack in the window, the two of them stood in front of each other. Not entirely awkward. But not quite comfortable.
‘Um,’ Ginny began. But she came up short.
‘Yeah,’ Marcus swallowed. He ran another hand through his hair. ‘That was . . . I don’t really . . .’ He bit his lip in what seemed to be deep thought. She didn’t dare interrupt him. Lord knows she’d end up rambling again, which would bring them back to— ‘I’ve never done or thought of anything like that. That’s not me. Or it could be? I don’t know. I’m just—was it weird or uncomfortable?’
Ginny bit her lip, trying not to focus on his eyes on her lips. Tilting her head to the left, she spoke, ‘No, I, uh, I think I liked it? Um, did I . . . Did I say I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me?’
Was that a blush ? Hands rubbing the back of his head, he nodded. ‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat, then repeated, ‘Yeah.’
Biting the inside of her cheek, she, too, nodded. ‘Okay,’ she breathed. A nervous chuckle. ‘Wow. Um.’ She fiddled with her fingers. ‘Jeez, why am I so tense?’
‘I think this is what happens when people discover their kinks in real time.’
‘Kinks?’ Ginny’s eyes widened.
‘Or, you know, talking dirty for the first time,’ he continued. He cracked his knuckles, one by one. The sound made the hairs at the back of Ginny’s neck stand up. ‘Uh. Yeah.’
‘You gave me three hickeys, I think. You’ve never done that before.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘Not like you can reverse them. They’re already there in purple and red.’
‘Did you not want the hickeys?’
A teasing smile. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘’Cuz that sound you made when I . . .’
Ginny covered her face with her hands, mortified.
‘ . . . It’s echoing in my head. Crashing against my skull. I can’t . . .’ He looked sort of agonised. Like he was working out an impossible math problem. Which, you know, sometimes she felt like that. ‘C’mere,’ he mumbled, somehow so crystal clear that her legs moved without thinking. She almost cursed herself for being so submissive. What would Georgia say to her being at the mercy of a man? A boy, really. This boy who smoked pot and skateboarded and had a motorcycle and had dreamy eyes and even dreamier hair who snuck into her bedroom at night and had her thinking about him fucking her without either using protection as if the pack of Plan B pills would always be there to bail her out without messing up her health somehow. This boy who was Georgia’s nightmare, the one who’d whisk Ginny away from this life of lies that was suddenly closing in on them. He was sitting down on the stool while she stood between his legs. With his hands on her waist, she was impossibly close to him. ‘I’m not afraid of loving you, Ginny.’
She leaned her head on his chest. Couldn’t help it. She needed to feel his heartbeat.
‘I just . . . I’ve told you about Bridge, right?’
‘Enough to get an alright picture, yeah,’ she softly responded. Her arms found their way around his neck as she softly massaged the base of his skull.
He swallowed, his leg shaking. She debated putting her hand on his knee to stop it, but maybe that was his coping mechanism. Or a nervous tick. ‘Things got really bad for me after he died. I was barely eating. Couldn’t sleep at night. I’d be at school or whatever, talking to people and, uh, I’d just wanna scream at them. Like, can’t you see I need help? Obviously, I never did that. And I thought about dying.’ A cold chill went down Ginny’s spine. She wondered if the fear of him like that showed on her face because he tightened his grip on her waist, but she realised that he felt her slight panic when her fingers unclenched his hair. She gently massaged it once more to ease the pinch. ‘A lot, actually. Like, at least there’s that option.’ He sighed, eyes closing. She planted a long kiss on his forehead. Sniffling, he leaned his head against her stomach. ‘Things just got really bad. Fuck, I’m not trying to depress you or anything. I promise I have a point,’ he chuckled.
‘We can add meandering thoughts to our list of commonalities,’ she responded in kind.
A choked laugh. ‘Jesus.’ She gently wiped the tears from his face. ‘Anyway, uh. I went to therapy and all that. But we realised that a lot of my thoughts were there before Bridge died. Like I’d have these, I wouldn’t say episodes, but they were something. These super intense bubbles of space and time. I bought the bike a few weeks after the funeral. I spent ages getting it to shine just right. Working on the motor. Reading all about different models and stuff. Before I knew it, weeks had passed. And then it happened again with my art. I could barely come in here during those dark months. I still came to class, but I wasn’t really there. And then one day, it was like someone flipped a switch in me and art was all I could focus on. My hands were stained all the damn time and I made up all my assignments in less than two weeks and my mom was concerned about why I painted a giant eye on my bedroom wall.’
Ginny smiled at that.
‘All that to say,’ he huffed with a soft laugh, ‘I’ve never hyperfixated on a person before.’
Oh?
‘I don’t know what that’s gonna look like. Not that it’s gonna happen,’ he shook his head, ‘but you never know, right?’
‘Right,’ she repeated, voice scratchy. She cleared her throat.
‘If it does happen, I don’t wanna scare you off.’
‘You won’t,’ Ginny whispered. A kiss on the forehead. ‘I know you won’t.’
‘I don’t think you understand. I get really obsessive.’
‘I understand, Marcus.’
‘Shit could get weird. And uncomfortable.’
‘I don’t care. We'll deal with it,’ Ginny shook her head.
He pulled her hands from his face. ‘You should, though. Why are you being so casual about this?’
Caustically, she chuckled. ‘I’m sorry, when have I ever been casual about anything?’
‘Ginny.’
‘Did I miss something?’ The sun seemed to be hiding behind the clouds as a metaphorical dark shadow cast itself over the room. ‘Why are you so mad at me?’
‘Who said I was mad?’
‘You sound mad.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ he curtly replied.
‘Could’ve fooled me.’
‘Okay, now I’m mad.’ He stood up. ‘What the fuck are we even arguing about?’
Ginny threw her hands up in frustration. ‘Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.’
They both took a breath.
Inhale.
Exhale .
Inhale.
Exhale .
‘Are we okay?’ She made it a point to not apologise. She wouldn’t even know what she was apologising for. Except she would; she kinda figured that whole spat was her fault, but she didn’t want to admit that.
He nodded.
Softly, she continued, ‘I need to hear you say it.’
He bit the inside of his cheek. ‘We’re okay.’
Are we, though? Ginny locked that thought away in a box with lots of duct tape and chains all over it. Imagined it sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Resting with the ghosts of the Titanic and whatnot.
‘Okay.’
A beat. Then: ‘Okay.’
Ginny imagined a version of the two of them saying their I love yous at that moment. Like they were praying to each other. I love you. I love you. I love you. The thought made her head pound, the urge to massage her temples strong.
The bell rang.
Uncertainly, Ginny inquired, ‘Are you coming over tonight?’
‘Maybe. Yeah. Probably.’
She nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’
Too many okays .
She wasn’t sure either of them were. But fine . She silenced those thoughts as she gave him a small wave goodbye.
Ginny’s stomach churned as she held the box of birth control pills.
Every swerve the car made uncomfortably stirred the contents of her stomach. Sweat prickled the back of her neck as she felt the red-hot burn of Georgia’s glare. Her mother’s lips had been pursed the whole ride home. They were silent, neither willing to break the tension. But when Ginny accidentally slammed the door once they were parked in the driveway, the tension broke.
‘Look, I know you’re mad I just sprung this on you,’ Georgia said. She had a couple of bags in her hand. ‘But between the pack of Plan B pills I found—which was almost finished, by the way—and the hickeys on your neck . . .’
‘Mom,’ she groaned.
‘No, don’t mom me. I know we’ve got this casual mother-daughter thing, but I do have to show some authority at some point, Virginia. Using Plan B as contraception? I thought I taught you better than that. I thought you were smarter than that. Who are you even sleeping with? Did he cast some kind of voodoo on you?’
Ginny blinked. Crossing her arms, she questioned, ‘How’d you find the pills, anyway? They were hidden.’
‘Well, your hiding spots could use some work.’
‘Why were you in my room?’
‘I know you’re trying to turn this back on me to continue whatever one-sided Cold War you’re in, but I’ll bite.’ Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘I was just making sure all your things were in order. Safe where they were.’
‘Is there a reason my things wouldn’t be safe?’
Georgia sighed. She placed the bags on the porch and stretched her arms. Ginny had to admit that her outfit was super cute, probably the prettiest she’d ever seen her mother.
‘Look, Maddie’s home with the kids all day while I’m at work and you’re at school. I don’t want anyone going through our shit. So, I just wanted to make sure all your prized possessions were locked away or something.’
A quirk of the brow. ‘Why would you let her stay with us if you’re worried she’s gonna steal?’
‘Shh,’ Georgia harshly whispered, pointing at the open windows. They both sat down on the porch steps. ‘I’m not worried worried. But she’s a stranger in my garden.’
‘You’ve known her your whole life,’ Ginny argued.
‘No,’ Georgia shook her head. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. She wouldn’t cry, Ginny knew that. ‘I knew her for fifteen, sixteen years. Some odd visits up until I was nineteen or so. There’s an entire decade unaccounted for, and I don’t like that.’
Ginny pressed her nails into her palms.
‘I don’t want you to worry about that, though, Peach.’
‘I’m not worried.’
Georgia chuckled. ‘You have a habit of taking on other people’s stress. You’re doing it right now.’
She unclenched her fists.
‘Who are you sleeping with? I thought you broke up with Hunter.’
‘I did.’ Ginny’s eyes immediately flew to Marcus’s window. The curtains were drawn shut. It all felt kinda sign-y.
She heard an incredulous laugh from her mother. ‘Couldn’t resist the motorbike, could you?’
An eye roll. ‘I’ve never even seen him on it.’
‘But knowing he has it is enough,’ Georgia debated. ‘It always is. And what? He’s got great hair. I’m sure you think his eyes are dreamy. Smokes, too.’
That warmth returned to Ginny at the mention of all these attributes. She bit the inside of her lower lip to stop herself from smiling.
‘I don’t want you with him.’
‘I didn’t want you with Omid. Or Kenny. Or Paul.’
‘Are you guys dating or just screwing around?’
A sigh. ‘We’re dating.’
‘Hm.’
‘I really, really like him, Mom.’
‘I’d have added another really to drive it home,’ Georgia jested.
Ginny stood up. ‘I’m not gonna stop seeing him just ‘cuz Mommy says so.’
‘Already defying authority for love, huh?’
She flushed. ‘I’m going inside.’
‘Should I have a talk with him or . . ?’
Ginny opened the front door. On her way upstairs, she called out: ‘Don’t even look at him!’
Marcus opted not to go to Ginny’s.
He sat in his room with the curtains drawn.
The only light came from his bedside lamp.
Standing at his closet door, he cracked his knuckles. There was a box in there he hadn't touched in months.
Notes:
hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, your comments mean the world to me, so feel free to drop one, even if it's a simple emoji or the like. I appreciate you guys very much and thanks for reading !!
also, I do have another story called 'raw hands heart-beating' and it's also marcus/ginny focused, but it's more of an AU with canon shuffled around.
Clearwaters109 on Chapter 1 Sun 08 Sep 2024 02:54AM UTC
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Last Edited Tue 10 Jun 2025 04:16PM UTC
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starkhai on Chapter 7 Wed 16 Jul 2025 02:52PM UTC
Last Edited Wed 16 Jul 2025 02:52PM UTC
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