Chapter Text
Jess awakens Valentine’s Day morning to frantic knocks on her bedroom door.
She flings it open, croaks a bleary “Hello?” with her eyes half-closed.
Nic is standing there, with a small potted cactus and a grim expression. Jess blinks her eyes to full functionality, readjusts her pajama top to cover her bare shoulder. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“I fucked it up, Jess,” Nic says quietly.
Jess knits her brow. “What did you do? What’s the-” She points to the cactus, lowers her voice. “Is that a message from the mob? Do you owe someone a lot of money, Nic?”
“It’s a message from Julia.” Nic looks down at the cactus, stricken. “And the message is, she’s breaking up with me.”
“Oh, god.” Jess presses a hand to her chest. Nic and Julia made it official only two weeks ago. Since then, Julia often comes over in the early morning to canoodle with Nic before she goes to work. “You just had the conversation this morning?”
Nic shakes her head. “She hasn’t done it yet. But she’s going to.”
Jess opens her mouth, the closes it. She tilts her head. “Um. Oh…”
Nic charges into the room, and sets the cactus on Jess’s desk/sewing table. “I wasn’t prepared,” she bursts, fisting a hand in her hair, pacing as she talks. “I made a reservation for a fancy dinner tonight and I’m prepared to blow half my paycheck on it, but we hadn’t talked about gifts. And then Julia shows up this morning with a cactus. A cactus, Jess.”
“Okay. Is a cactus some symbol for queer women that I’m not aware of? Is this a lesbian thing?”
“Nope.” Winona pokes her head into the doorway. “It’s a Paranoid Nic thing. Jess, on a more important, real note, I need a second opinion on my outfit for tonight. It’s my first big date with Sheldon and I have to make an impression. He’s not as eager as I thought he’d be to lock me down.”
Schmidt leans on the other side of the doorway, matcha in hand. “What, the two-years-expired booty call is not proving to be a seaworthy relationship? Color me shocked.”
“It’s my turn, I got here first,” Nic whines.
Jess rubs her temple. She grabs Schmidt’s matcha and takes a big gulp, making a face at the grassy flavor. “Bleh.”
“Excuse you, that is ceremonial grade. 28 dollars an ounce. That’s more than you make an hour.”
“Schmidt, shut up.” Jess turns to Nic. “It’s just a cactus, she’s not breaking up with you. And Winona, wear whatever makes you feel the most yourself.”
Winona pauses, then snaps her fingers, breaking into a 100-watt grin. “I got it. Thanks, Jess.” She dashes off.
Schmidt snatches her matcha back, but continues to loiter, while Jess hands Nic the cactus, and tries to herd her out of the room.
“No, no, you don’t get it,” Nic yammers on. “She doesn’t think I can take care of a real plant which means she doesn’t think I’m long-term relationship material which means she thinks I’m gonna fuck it up-”
“Nic.” Jess grabs her by the shoulders. Nic is warm and solid under Jess’s hands. She holds steady, looking straight into Nic’s panicked eyes. “You’re not going to fuck it up. You’re a catch. You’re the real deal, Nic Miller.”
“I’m the Walmart version, at best,” Nic chuckles, and Schmidt snorts.
“Get her one of those little rosebushes they trained to grow in the shape of a heart. If you hurry they might still have them at the Safeway down the street.” Jess gives Nic a goodnatured, but firm, push. “Go on.”
Nic goes.
Schmidt shakes her head. “So glad I’m single. Valentine’s Day.” She shudders.
Jess frowns, thinking about Nic and the cactus. Julia is not exactly Jess’s favorite person in the world, to be fair. She’s scary, and cold, and doesn’t seem to like Jess very much. Or desserts, which is fundamentally bizarre. But Nic deserves to be happy, and Jess believes in love, although she hasn’t had much luck of her own on that score.
Maybe she needs to aim a little lower. Let Nic and Winona have their romantic, When-Harry-Met-Sally moments. Meanwhile, Jess can have some fun.
“You should come out with me tonight, Schmidt.” Jess grins. “Lend me some of your player energy. I think I’m gonna finally have a one-night stand. There’s an emergency condom burning a hole in my purse, and I need to find the Johnson it will fit. Like Prince Charming looking for my Cinderella- who is a guy,” Jess amends quickly. “My Cinder.”
She’s not opening that Pandora’s box of worms today. Or ever. Jess already returned the stack of gay books to the library and with it, her brief, ill-conceived flight of fancy.
“Good luck with that.” Schmidt smirks. “Me, I don’t go out on Valentine’s Day. It’s too dangerous. Femmes reach their maximum power today, like werewolves on a full moon. If you hook up with a femme on Valentine’s Day, a month later you’ll be married, pregnant, or in an unholy contract with a demonic entity. Possibly all three.”
Jess is jarred by the mental image of a pregnant Schmidt. “Whatever, just come out with me and Cece. Please?”
Schmidt’s ears twitch. “Fine,” she sighs.
Schmidt and Cece sit together on a loveseat in this crowded cocktail lounge like watchful chaperones, while Jess tries her luck.
It’s uncanny how much those two agree on, especially when it comes to casual sex. No emotional connection, they both insist, which is hard for Jess. She’ll see a guy’s bus card as he opens his wallet to pay for her drink and then she’s thinking about him going home after a long day, giving up his seat for an elderly person, making himself a hot drink, and putting on his worn slippers that he can’t seem to let go of. The emotional connection sneaks up and grabs her by the throat.
“How do you do this?” she asks her chaperones, after another unsuccessful attempt. She adjusts the low neckline of her black top. Hell, she looks good, and it would be a shame to waste it just because she can’t keep her heartstrings disentangled. “What if he takes me home and he has a cute dog or something, and he baby-talks to them? I know myself. I’m weak.”
“Definitely never have sex with a man who baby-talks his dog,” Schmidt says, ever the cynic. “Red flag.”
“Easy solution, bring him back to the loft,” says Cece. She adjusts the strap of her stiletto, leaning over into Schmidt and steadying herself with a hand on Schmidt’s thigh. Schmidt blinks, mouth twitching against a smile.
“I don’t know if I can do it, after all,” Jess admits, defeated. “It feels wrong.”
She’s been fighting off a weird, nagging ‘wrong’ sense for weeks. Like something sticky on the bottom of her shoe. Like the tickle in her throat right before getting a cold. She doesn’t know what it is. She was hoping a night of unattached sex with a tall handsome stranger might cure her of it.
“A one-night stand is a morally neutral act, Jess.” Schmidt sounds like she’s put some thought into this. Maybe written a think-piece. “You’re both getting something that you want, with no complications.”
“But I have to get to know him a little bit. I mean, what if he has a girlfriend? Or a wife and kids?”
“That would not be your fault.” Cece pulls out her phone. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Jess frowns. This reeks of faulty logic, but she doesn’t want to question Cece right now. Not when her errant lover Kyle- who chose that name for themselves, and it suits them pretty well- was supposed to be here an hour ago.
“Okay.” Jess takes another swig of her drink. “Once more unto the breach.”
At long last, she finds a promising candidate. His name is Oliver. He’s cute, blonde, and reminds her slightly of Stuart Little, which is somehow a turn-on. His favorite color is yellow and he loves lunch. Jess cannot picture him in any emotionally-charged context whatsoever. She doesn’t want to ask him about his childhood. She does want to bite that perfect earlobe when he bottoms out inside her.
She drags her prize over to the judges for a final evaluation. With their approval, she goes to settle her tab. They’re going to his place- he doesn’t have any pets- and they’re taking a nonromantic, sexually-charged walk to get there because his car isn’t running at the moment. A brisk walk counts as foreplay, in Jess’s book.
She’s about to say bye to Cece and Schmidt, but stops when she catches the expression on Schmidt’s face, eyes on her phone.
“Code blue. We have a code blue,” she says grimly, as if this means anything to anyone. She taps on her phone, then lifts it to her ear. “Winona. Code blue. Yes- no, that’s yellow. Blue. Right. Ditch Sheldon and meet us at the bar.” She knits her brow, and snaps, “What do you mean, which bar, the bar. Nic’s bar.” She hangs up.
“What’s going on?” Jess asks.
“Julia broke up with Nic.”
Jess gasps. “Oh, no.”
“Hey!” Kyle chooses that moment to finally appear, barreling into Cece and giving her a sloppy kiss in greeting. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.” They hold up a small ziploc bag. “I got shrooms.”
Cece rolls her eyes. “Wow. You shouldn’t have.”
Schmidt stands up. “Cece, you’re okay with Kyle, right? I mean, you have a vehicle?” She waits for Cece’s exasperated nod, then turns. “And Jess, you’re going with this- Oliver?”
“I’m Oliver,” he says helpfully.
Jess turns to him. This beautiful, vapid specimen that she feels no connection with, except for the one below the belt. She sighs. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I can’t come over. My friend needs me.”
“Oh.” His smile flickers, but he takes it in stride. “That’s okay. I’m gonna go home and watch Planet of the Apes.”
“Okay.” Jess nods, smiling, and follows after Schmidt. She lets out her breath with a strange relief.
They find Nic sitting at a booth. With her cactus, a shot glass, and a bottle of whiskey taken from behind the bar. It has the spout thing on it. She’s wearing what must be her ‘nice date’ outfit, a white dress shirt and a black tie. It makes her look a little bit like a waiter, or wedding venue staff. Jess’s heart feels like a knit sweater snagged on a nail. All her threads pulled loose.
Nic spreads her arms, grinning with a desperate sort of cheer. “Hey, hey! What are you guys doing here?”
Jess slides into the booth across from her, while Schmidt scooches in the other side. “Nic,” Jess starts, then realizes she has no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what? I’m great.” Nic is still smiling. She pours a shot and knocks it back without a flinch. “I was right about the cactus,” she says to Jess. “And you were wrong. Isn’t that funny?”
Jess bites her lip. She’s comforted Cece through a million heartbreaks- back when Cece would get heartbroken, now she seems to exclusively date a-holes, and comments on their partings with little remorse. But right now, Jess looks at Nic and she’s frozen. Her mind is blank.
Schmidt points. “Did you bring the cactus to dinner?”
Closer inspection reveals the cactus is in… questionable shape. It clearly broke into several pieces, and is now held together with duct tape and bits of wire.
“Yeah,” Nic bristles. “To show her I was taking good care of it.”
Jess nods. “It looks like you- really tried hard.”
Winona appears. Schmidt moves over to let her in, pushing Nic further into the booth, closer to to Jess. Jess fights the urge to hug her, or do something even weirder, like kiss the sadness away from her eyebrows. Nic smells faintly of spicy men’s cologne and booze. Jess wonders if Julia was nice about it. She can’t decide whether that would make it better, or worse.
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, Nic, but this was not great timing,” Winona gripes.
“You’re telling me,” Nic says with a fake chuckle, enunciating every beat. “She dumped me over dessert. Coulda saved me some money if you did it on the appetizer, am I right?” She points to Winona. “Great shirt, by the way.”
Winona is wearing a bright aquamarine short-sleeved button-down, patterned with pairs of yellow cartoon birds- like Woodstock from the Peanuts comics- touching beaks with hearts around their heads.
“Thank you.” Winona sighs. “Sheldon hates it. He said I should have worn something nice, like a dress. But I found this at Goodwill last week and it’s perfect for Valentine’s Day. See? They’re lovebirds.”
“You tell ‘im, girl.” Nic nods, pouring another shot.
“Sheldon said you and Schmidt are rubbing off on me. With your button-downs.”
Schmidt recoils. “That’s extremely offensive. I would never be caught dead in a shirt like that.”
Jess gives Winona a sympathetic grimace. “Sorry your date didn’t go well, either.”
“Oh no, it went great,” Winona says brightly. “We had the talk. We’re official, now. He’s waiting for me back at the loft. I shouldn’t leave him alone too long, actually. He’s allergic to cats, and Furguson loves a man with facial hair.” She shrugs. “We came to an agreement over the bird shirt. He let me wear it to dinner, and I’ll wear whatever he chooses for sex. A good relationship is all about compromise.”
Schmidt shakes her head. “No part of what you said sounded good.”
“Well, I’m happy for you, Winona,” says Jess. “Nic, um.” She reaches for the whiskey bottle, to pull it out of reach. “Do you want to… talk about it?”
“Not much to say.” Nic pulls the bottle back. Her smile grows brittle. “I fucked it up. It’s over.”
Jess frowns. Nic keeps saying that, and it’s really starting to grate on Jess. She’s had enough, in fact.
“Stop saying you fucked it up, Nic,” she snaps. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Julia was just wrong for you.” She grabs the bottle, and Nic’s shot glass, and pours a shot. “If anything, she fucked it up. And she can take that and shove it up her fancy lawyer butt.” Jess tosses the whiskey back all at once, then immediately regrets it, as the forest-fire flavor fills her mouth and sears her throat. She chokes it down, and coughs.
Nic stares at her, eyebrows lifted in surprise, mouth open. She smiles. It’s a little crumpled, and much more real than before. It makes Jess warmer than any amount of whiskey ever could. “Thanks, Jess.”
Jess nods, unable to speak. She coughs feebly, “Water.”
“I got you,” says Nic. Jess lets her out of the booth, then follows after her to the bar. Nic goes around to the other side, directing a quick “I’m not on the clock, you saw nothing,” to Harvey, who’s too occupied with the Valentine’s evening rush to even respond. This is the busiest Jess has ever seen the bar. So many single and heartbroken people in the world. Nic grabs a glass and fills it with water, sliding it over to Jess.
She gulps half of it, and lets out a breath, fire quenched. “Thank you.”
Nic weaves around her coworkers to get back to the customer side, before anyone can try to give her a drink order. She leans on the counter next to Jess.
“Schmidt said you were looking for a one-night stand tonight.” Her mouth curls. “No luck?”
Jess blushes, and gulps her water. “Yeah, y’know.” She waves a hand. “I found a guy, but then Schmidt got your text, and- it’s fine. Probably for the best. I don’t know if I’m cut out for casual sex.”
Nic creases her brow. “You gave up your one-night stand for me?”
“Bros before hos.” Jess throws up awkward devil horns, then winces at herself.
Nic shakes her head. “I can’t let you get away with that. You’re getting your one-night stand.” She turns, and calls out, “Hey, Harvey. Give Jess whatever she wants, okay? It can come out of my paycheck.”
Harvey raises a pierced eyebrow. “You really mean that?”
“No. But still, just- keep an eye on her. Thank you. I owe ya.”
Harvey waves a hand, smiling, and turns away.
“Nic, what are you doing?” Jess argues. “I came here to keep you company and then take you home.”
“Schmidt and Winona can do that just fine. Look around, Jess.” Nic spins a finger to take in the bar. “Eligible bachelors as far as the eye can see. Go get you one.” She claps her hand on Jess’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go home and get drunk and pass out on the couch. But look ‘atcha, you’re a total smokeshow, you have a chance to make it a good night. So you gotta do it. For me. Okay?”
Jess smiles. “Thank you, Nic.”
She nods. “G’night, Jess. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She turns to their booth and motions ‘let’s go,’ swinging two fingers above her head. She follows Schmidt and Winona out of the bar, taking her cactus with her.
Jess finishes her water. She people-watches for ten minutes and doesn’t see anyone worth standing up for. She’s debating how long she has to stay to make it seem like she tried, when someone says to her, “Hey.”
Jess turns, and looks up. Then looks up some more. She’s the tallest woman Jess has ever seen, wearing a dark blue button-down, a leather jacket, and jeans. Her hair is short and deliciously swooshy on top, like a boy-band member Jess would have obsessed over in high school. She smiles at Jess, a broad, full-lipped smile, and it’s a good thing Jess is sitting down, because her knees go extremely weak.
“I swear I’ve never done this before,” the stranger says, with an apologetic laugh. “But I got stood up tonight, and I saw you were alone, and very cute, so I figured I’d give it a try. Can I buy you a drink?”
Jess stares. She should say, ”Sorry, I’m straight,” but the words are stuck in her throat. She feels like she’s in a trance. She nods.
The stranger gestures to the empty glass. “What’re you having?”
A crisis, Jess thinks. “Um. Rosé.”
“Okay. A pint glass of Rosé, coming right up,” this beautiful stranger jokes, and Jess laughs like a total ditz.
“Who stood you up?” she asks. She stops herself from adding, ”What were they thinking? Were they hit on the head?”
“Girl I met on a dating app. Here, I’ll show you, so you know that wasn’t some kind of pity grab pick-up line.” She pulls out her phone, open to a chat with some fool named Katie. Jess makes an instinctive calculation, a real leap-without-looking.
“That’s so crazy,” she says, handing the phone back. “My name is Katie, too.”
“No way.” The stranger smiles. “Maybe this was meant to be.” She sticks out a hand. “I’m Sam.”
Jess shakes. Something in her twitches awake at the warm touch of Sam’s hand. Jess may not be sure if she’s really bisexual, but Katie is. Katie knows what she wants and she’s not afraid of getting it. Katie is out and proud. Katie will have casual sex with a woman without batting an eye.
They grab a booth. Jess is not much for conversation, dizzy with the novelty of being chatted up by a woman. Sam doesn’t seem to mind. They trade inane small-talk over the most intense, scalding eye contact Jess has ever experienced in her life. She feels high. That weird ‘wrong’ feeling that’s plagued her for weeks is burned clean away by the smolder of Sam’s eyes on her.
“Listen, Katie, uh. I’d love to invite you back to my place. But my neighbor is having a big party tonight. Might not be the most- intimate setting.” She chuckles. “Thin walls.”
Jess drains her wineglass. Sam wants to get her into an intimate setting. And Jess- god help her- Jess wants it, too.
“We could go to my apartment,” she blurts without thinking.
Sam smiles. God, that smile. “That sounds great.”
Jess comes to. Has she lost her mind? She can’t let any of her roommates see that this is who she picked to be her one-night stand. They’d demand to know all the details of her sexual awakening. They’d demand an explanation. One that Jess doesn’t have, or at least is not prepared to give.
“There’s just one problem. My roommates are…” Her mouth is dry. She swallows hard. “…extremely homophobic.”
“Oh.” Sam’s brow wrinkles, and she tilts her head. “Damn. I’m sorry, that’s horrible.”
“Yeah.” Jess nods. Oh, she’s going to hell for this. “So we’d have to sneak you in.”
Sam smirks, devious. It sends a shock of heat between Jess’s thighs. “Good thing I’m sneaky.”
Jess gets an eerie sensation, and glances over. Harvey’s eyes are on her. Per Nic’s instructions. Jess’s stomach drops. Uh oh.
“I have to go settle my tab, I’ll be right back,” she says to Sam. Up at the counter, she flags Harvey down. “Hey, um. Is there any chance you could- not tell Nic that I left with a woman? Please?”
Harvey gives her a flat look. “Are you cheating on Nic?”
“No! Oh my god, no.” Jess waves her hands. “We are not dating. Not even close to- ever.”
“Then why can’t I tell her?” Harvey asks point-blank. She has that So-Cal vocal fry. It makes her sound perpetually unimpressed.
Jess grimaces. “It’s… complicated?”
Harvey rolls their eyes. “God, I fucking hate dyke drama. Fine. I promise.”
“Thank you so much.” Jess presses her hands together. “I swear I have good reasons.”
Harvey steals a glance at Sam, then leans over the bar, dropping their fried-out voice even lower. “Jess, listen. I know Sam. She’s kind of a player. Like, do you, but don’t be shocked if you never hear from her again after tonight.”
Jess grins. Perfect. She schools her face, and nods. “Thanks, Harvey. You’re a real pal.”
“I try,” Harvey says dryly, and turns to the next customer.
Sam parks across the street from the loft.
Jess leans over the center console, to peer up at the fourth floor windows. “The light in the living room is still on. Let’s wait until it goes dark, and then we can sneak up- um. Sorry,” she lets out a laugh, realizing that she’s all up in Sam’s personal space. Sam is grinning at her the way a cat might grin at a mouse. It makes Jess uncomfortably hot underneath her shorts.
“Man, wonder what we could do to kill some time,” Sam purrs.
“We could play ‘I Spy,’” Jess suggests, breathless, which turns out to be the witty and sexy line she utters right before her very first kiss with a woman.
For some reason, Jess imagined it would be different. That it would be so much softer than kissing a guy, so much prettier, more ‘gay,’ that rainbows would start dancing around her head. But it feels like kissing anyone she’s ever kissed, anyone she was really attracted to. It feels good. Normal. Jess realizes it was kind of silly to expect it would be so much different. Sam may be a woman, but she’s also a person. Human lips are generally soft.
Sam’s lips are super soft, and big. Almost enough to make Jess self-conscious about her own in comparison, but then Sam does this thing where she cups Jess’s jaw and presses a thumb to her chin to make her mouth fall open and Jess stops thinking about anything at all.
They make out with tongue over the center console for god-knows-how long. Jess is not aware of time passing. Only the throb of her pulse in her neck and between her legs. Sam is a good kisser. Such a good kisser that she’s able to insinuate both hands without Jess noticing, one flat on Jess's upper back and the other on her thigh, rubbing softly up and down, right above her knee.
Jess doesn't know what to do with her own hands, so she plays with Sam's beautiful floppy hair, gentle scratches above Sam's ears and all the way down the back of Sam's neck, which makes Sam hum into Jess's mouth, so it must be okay.
Sam pulls back, asks huskily, “Is the light still on?”
“Huh?” The language-processing center of Jess’s brain is delayed a full five seconds. She blinks. “Oh.” She checks over Sam’s shoulder. “No, it’s off.”
“Sweet.” Sam reaches into the backseat and lifts up a small athletic backpack, the kind you’d take to the gym. She grins at Jess. “This cool with you? I’m a top.”
“Atop what?” Jess asks. Sam gives her a weird look. The realization hits, and Jess lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh! Hah, just joking with you. You’re a top, yes. I’m a- the other one. A bottom.” That is, probably. Jess can only conjecture. “What’s in there?” she asks, poking the bag.
Sam narrows her eyes. “You’ve had gay sex before, right?”
“Of course,” Jess answers, slipping into her ‘Katie’ persona. She flops a hand. “Pfff. Loads of times.”
“Right.” Sam doesn’t seem convinced. “Just never with a strap?”
“Yes, exactly.” In an instant it floods back to her, the innuendos and scraps of information Jess picked up from the lesbian books she read. She’s got a better picture of what’s in the backpack, now. “I’ve never been, um, strapped. Strapped down. Strapped up. Up or down.” She laughs.
Her heart is pounding so loud she can barely hear herself speak. What she wouldn’t give to phone a friend right now. Cece would coach her through it, no doubt. Oh, god. Jess can never tell Cece about this. That would make it way too real.
“Wanna try it?” Sam has that dirty grin again, and it’s so hot on her, Jess feels like she might faint. “It’s pretty fun. I’ll make sure it’s really good for you. But I’m good with my hands and mouth, too, so. Totally up to you.”
Katie would say yes. Jess already decided to do whatever Katie would do. She shrugs. “What the hell, I’ll give it a try. Mix it up a little.”
Jess figures she’s no stranger to penetration. How different could it be?
About three hours later, Jess is splayed on her bed, heaving ragged breaths, head spinning. Sam takes off the harness and flops down next to her.
“Oh,” Jess says out loud. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” Sam pants.
Jess stands corrected. It was very, very different. She’s never had that many orgasms in a row before. Sam didn’t just use the strap. She used her hands, she used her own body, she used Jess’s body, so thorough and precise that it almost felt clinical, like a chiropractic adjustment except with the express purpose of making Jess cum herself stupid. Jess is sure she got way too loud. Sam was quiet, except when asking Jess questions, ”Does this feel good? How about here?” or calmly instructing her to move this way and that.
Jess cannot believe that some queer women go around having sex like this. Nasty, efficient, sweaty, unrelenting sex. It’s incredible. Jess is soaring, way above cloud nine, but she’s physically exhausted, and she was doing less than 20 percent of the work. Jess thinks, if Nic is a top, or even occasionally tops, it’s no wonder she sleeps so much.
Jess rolls over, lets her eyes rove Sam's body. Saliva coats her tongue. Her fingers twitch. She's so curious, about the sports bra and boyshort panties that never came off, about the slight softness around Sam’s middle, lean curves and hard lines. But Jess feels like a guest in a stranger's home. She's not sure what she can touch, and she doesn't know if it's rude to ask.
So instead she clears her throat, and says lamely, “Can I do anything for you?”
“You did, babe. I’m so good.” Sam rolls to face Jess, and reaches down to squeeze her ass. She gives it a little slap, making Jess squeak, and giggle. Jess leans in to catch Sam’s mouth in a kiss. With a jolt of confidence, she squeezes Sam's shoulder, slides a hand up the warm, sweaty slope of Sam's neck.
Jess did promise herself this was a one night stand, but… she could stand to do this again.
Sam pulls away. “I should probably go,” she whispers, with a grimace.
Jess nods. “I’ll make sure the coast is clear.” She tries to sit up, and flops back, winded. “Give me a minute.”
Sam chuckles, pleased.
When Jess is able to stand, she puts on her pink robe, and tiptoes on shaky legs into the hall. Earlier, on their way in, the living room had been empty. Nic must’ve been in the bathroom. Now she’s on the couch, fast asleep. Her cactus sits on the coffee table, and an empty six-pack of Heisler decorates the floor next to the couch, a few of the bottles tipped over. Jess lets out a heavy breath, with a twinge of sympathy in her chest. Looks like Nic did exactly what she said she would. There’s no way she’ll wake up at the sound of Sam sneaking out.
Jess turns back to her bedroom door, and stops dead. Nic is on the couch. In plain sight. Looking... well, Nic-ish. If Sam sees her, the jig will be up. Sam will want to know why Jess lied about having homophobic roommates, and there’ll be no chance of another ‘strap’ session. Jess creeps over to the couch. She bites her lip.
Nic snores softly. She sleeps with one hand flung above her head, the other curled on her chest. The bottom of her dress shirt rode up a bit, exposing her soft lower stomach. She took off her belt and tie, but that’s it. She’s still got her socks on.
“Nic.” Jess pokes her arm. “Nic, wake up.”
She doesn’t stir.
Jess tries speaking at a normal volume. “Don't you miss your real bed? Come on. Up and at ‘em.”
No movement.
“Nic,” Jess growls. “Wake up.” Nic continues to snore. Drastic measures. If Nic won’t wake up, then Jess will have to carry her to her bedroom. Jess wraps both arms around Nic’s shoulders, to hoist her off the couch. “Oh my god,” she says, voice choked in effort, and lets go. She pants. “You’re so heavy. Please wake up.”
Nic stirs, making cute little grunting noises. She sleeps on.
“Nic, for the love of-” Jess grabs Nic’s wrists and tries pulling on her arms. Flopping them around. Tries getting on her knees and lifting Nic up from below. She collapses. “Dang it, Nic.”
Nic smacks her lips. “Lee’ me alone,” she mutters, eyes still closed. “You can have those ones. I like mine toasted.” She rolls over, to face the back of the couch.
Jess panics. Sam could be getting suspicious by now. Jess grabs a throw blanket from the other end of the sectional, and throws it over Nic, covering her head. Her feet stick out. Hopefully that’ll do the trick.
Jess tiptoes back to her bedroom, where Sam is fully dressed, backpack slung over one shoulder. She beckons Sam to come out.
“Okay, well, that was really fun, maybe we’ll do it again sometime,” Jess babbles quietly, trying to steer Sam to the door before she can look over at the couch.
"I'd like that." Sam hands Jess her phone. "Here, text yourself. So I have your number."
Jess complies with shaking hands. Half of her- the lower half, maybe- hopes that Sam means it, that she'll ring Jess up and they'll do this again, several times. The other half hopes that Harvey was right, and Jess never sees Sam again.
Jess gives the phone back, right as Nic lets out a loud snore. Sam’s head snaps to the sound.
“Is that one of your roommates?” she whispers, pointing.
“Yeah, it- oh, God.” Jess winces. Nic pulled the blanket off. She’s still turned toward the back of the couch. Jess looks to Sam anxiously.
“Does he have a room, or does he just sleep on the couch?” Sam asks.
Jess is thrown. The jig is not up, because in the dim light, from behind, Sam thinks Nic is a guy. Jess flushes hot. “Oh, um. H-he has a room. He sleeps on the couch sometimes when he’s sad, or really drunk, or too lazy to get up. Might’ve been all three tonight. He just got dumped by his girlfriend.”
“Oh, man.” Sam sucks a breath through her teeth. “On Valentine’s Day? Tough break. Can’t feel too sorry for him, though.”
“Why not?” Jess is confused.
“Because he’s homophobic.”
“Right,” Jess chokes. “Bye Sam, drive safe-” She yelps softly, then melts, as Sam scoops her up for one last deep, possessive kiss.
“Bye, Katie,” Sam croons, and slips through the door. Jess locks it behind her.
There's a sound from the kitchen. Jess's eyes widen. Schmidt's voice carries, a rough whisper, "Hold on." She comes around the corner, to lock eyes with Jess. They stare at each other.
"What are you doing?" Schmidt hisses.
Jess points at the couch. "Checking on Nic. What are you doing?" She narrows her eyes. "Is there someone in your room?"
"Is there someone in yours?" Schmidt shoots back, eyebrows raised.
"Sh- they, I mean, he just left," Jess stammers. Dear lord. Pronoun roulette.
"So you had your one-night stand. Kudos." Schmidt turns a fond look to the couch, and sighs. She goes over and grabs the blanket, billowing it to settle lightly over Nic from her shoulders to her toes, then tucks her in. "Good night, Jess," she says.
"Good night," Jess manages weakly. She slips back to her room, and collapses on her bed. She presses both hands to her face.
"Oh my god," she whispers to herself. "Oh my god, oh my god."
The afterglow has started to wear off, and reality is setting in. She did it. She opened the box.
What happens if she can't close it again?