Chapter Text
ii.
An early morning heat is just beginning to creep in.
She’s whittled her mile down to six minutes flat. Jackie folds her arms above her head, the rush of air and expanded airway a threat as sure as relief. Six minutes. She wants to cut it down to five. Jackie might not ever be the fastest player but if she can sprint at a sustained speed for the duration of a whole game– it can be just as good.
Thick rivulets of sweat sting her eyes and her forearm is just as damp. Jackie grimaces at the sensation of smearing wet on wet, uses her practice pinny to dab the worst of it off. As she cools down on the benches, chugging water every now and then, someone tugs on her ponytail. Without turning she already has the offender’s name in her mouth. “Nat.”
Nat gives a final tug, a greeting. Her eyes are lined in black and her hair is finally long enough to pull back.
“Morning, Taylor.”
Jackie smiles from around her water bottle. “Surprised you’re up so bright and bushy tailed.”
There’s a stubborn cow lick that refuses to follow Nat’s preferred part. Jackie tends to gauge her morning exhaustion by its wayward position. Not that she’d ever say so out loud.
Nat shrugs. Bends down to tighten her cleat laces. “Nookie tends to get me moving.”
“Ha ha,” Jackie throws out.
She considers the field, empty as it is. School won’t start for another forty-five minutes. All work and no play makes Jack a sad boy, she thinks to herself. Setting her bottle off to the side, she cocks her hip. “Do you want to make out?”
“Instead of grueling conditioning for nationals? I don’t know Jackie, with the deadline coming up–” Nat throws her hands sarcastically in the air. “What the hell do I look like? Duh.”
Jackie pulse leaps, butterflies fluttering at the base of her stomach. “My car. Daddy let me borrow the one–”
“With tinted windows?” Nat grins. “Show me the way, our chariot awaits.”
They wriggle into the backseat at the far edge of the school property and lock the doors.
Anticipation blooms and her lips tremble, eyes shadowing Nat’s movement as she flicks through the radio stations with a practiced speed. Settling on a rock station– satisfied, Nat settles into the backseat next to Jackie.
It's probably counterintuitive, hooking up with Nat when there are rampant rumors that Jackie is a tramp.
Slowly, Nat reaches out and fiddles with the drawstring of Jackie’s shorts. Twiddling between thumb and forefinger, shy.
It makes Jackie want to pounce on her.
Accordingly, she surges forward. Curls her hands in Nat’s hair. Nat slides her hands to Jackie’s waist. Her hands find the sliver of skin where Jackie’s clothing lapses. Nat’s lips are incredibly soft and gentle as a breeze, before she shifts the kiss into a firm rough pace that makes Jackie quake.
The radio speakers crackle, a guitar riff reverberating as their bodies bend together:
I don’t know why no one told you, how to unfold your love
I don’t know how someone controlled you
They bought and sold you–
Nat sings it as their lips part, fingers tapping the instrumentals into Jackie’s ribs. The sensation tickles. Jackie beholds Nat, her voice is strong and pleasant eyes leaping with joy. For a moment there is nothing but an intense feeling of… Jackie sits back, signaling to continue.
“Shit sorry,” Nat shakes her head. Tries to lean in, misinterpreting Jackie’s gesture as a ‘get back to it.’
Jackie blocks Nat from re-embracing her.
“You weren’t terrible. Keep going.”
Abashed, Nat refuses. “C’mon I thought we were getting somewhere.”
It’s a crass and irritating remark but it's not enough to douse Jackie’s fondness. Seeing Nat shift in discomfort though, Jackie opts to detach their tangled limbs and thrusts her body over the armrest to crank the radio up. “Guess we’ll both have to sing it then.” Ribbing Nat to no avail as the song progresses.
Jackie continues entirely to breathy in attempt to mimic the singer’s cadence:
I don’t know why you were diverted
You were perverted, too
I don’t know why you were inverted
No one alerted you–
Nat shoves Jackie against the car window, using the back of her left hand to soften the blow. Jackie’s head makes contact with Nat’s hand. The ‘oof,’ hardly escapes Jackie before Nat descends upon her. Jackie grabs at her collar, twisting until the backs of her knuckles meet flesh. Her heart leaps– does she want to shove Nat away or pull her in–? And the inherent blurr of intentions melts as easily between them as the soft seam of Nat’s mouth.
“C’mon I know you didn’t bring the tinted car for us to karaoke in, Taylor.” Nat growls.
Jackie’s eyes flutter, lost in the words murmured at the sensitive edge of her ear. She tries to focus. Pulls away from the action until her head bumps into the window, so that Jackie can look at Nat.
“We don’t always have to bone.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Nat's temper seems to flare, reading into what Jackie meant to be assurance.
“I mean, I like this.” Jackie curls her fists further into Nat’s collar. Trying to remind her of the languid make out sessions and how fun they are. “I really like this. I like you, Nat.” Jackie licks her lips, tries to maintain eye contact. What’s the ratio of eye contact and sincerity?
Nat straightens, dislodging Jackie’s grip on her shirt. The pale blue thing is wrinkled (nothing an iron can’t fix) and her hair is askew.
“Jesus I don’t need a promise ring.”
Jackie is a pool of cooling warmth, a vulnerable opened leg girl. She fixes her hair as she mulls over Nat’s words. “Um,” Jackie tries, before the words crumble in her mouth like stale chips.
Nat smiles, the hard brittle thing.
“What are we doing here, Taylor? Boyfriend-girlfriend?” She snorts, leaning back into the seat. “You wanted to try things out– we’re both having fun.” Nat sends Jackie a reassuring look. Fun is an underestimate– if that’s one thing Jackie can be certain of.
“It doesn’t have to be anymore complicated than that.”
“I don’t think it’s complicated that I want to do more than suck face.” Jackie folds her arms over her chest.
The combative tone loosens as Nat considers her. “You’ll get tired of me, Taylor. Thank me later–”
Jackie catches the latch of the car, twist-fall-landing outside, finished with the conversation.
“If you wanna call quits just say that.” Straightening her shirt, Jackie glares at Nat. “Lock up when you’re done.”
She doesn’t hear the rest of what Nat has to say– she slams the door shut, storming towards the school. Nat doesn’t follow. She wouldn’t, they stagger their arrivals for a reason. Maybe we won’t have to for much longer, Jackie thinks darkly.
Ignore the cat calls in the halls. Excel in class. Plaster a smile on during the pep rally and pretend they aren’t leering at her. Let the pointed remarks roll off her back. There is no reason to be upset– they’re not true. A hit dog hollers. Jackie isn’t a dog, she isn’t hollering. What they’re saying about her– Jackie lets it roll off her back because there is no purchase, nothing they say will stick.
None of it is true.
No, they can’t imagine how much worse it is.
“Should she be exercising in her condition?”
Jackie doesn’t catch the origins of the snide commenter. As she stretches– the burn of fingers to toes, rests her brow on knee– for a second, she lets her face collapse into upset. One Mississippi… two Mississippi… three Mississippi…
“Jackie, I gotta talk to you.”
“I’m stretching,” Jackie resists. Nat would clock the latent tears. Jackie keeps her face down as she switches to the other leg. Steels her emotions. One Mississippi… two Mississippi… three Mississippi…
“Cute,” Nat says in an unimpressed way. She drops to her bottom, begins to stretch in tandem with Jackie.
“Dude, Taissa is on one.” Nat doesn’t stretch as deeply as Jackie is by the tone of her voice. “She’s planning to ice Ally out for sucking ass.”
“Okay.” Jackie pulls her legs into the butterfly position.
“Okay?” Nat is incredulous. “Did you hear me, Captain? Taissa is gonna play keep away from the Freshie. As in make her drop out from Nationals.”
“Thanks for letting me know, Nat.” Jackie stands, planning to speak to Coach Martinez and Ben.
“That’s it? ‘Thanks,’ what’re you going to do about it?”
“Don’t worry about it, Scatorccio.”
Taissa drops the bag of pennies to the ground. “Scrimmage day,” she reminds Jackie.
Jackie nudges the bag beneath the benches with her toe as she regards her.
“Change of plans,” she looks around Taissa, projects her voice for the varsity and jv combined. “No scrimmaging. We’re conditioning. Line up.” Jackie claps her hands.
There are groans and ill looks thrown her way. Coach Ben stalks to Jackie’s side. “Jackie says conditioning– we’re doing conditioning.”
It’s forty-five minutes in and Ally is lagging. Girls that have finished their windsprint watch her from the sidelines, cheeks burning with exertion. Jackie’s own lungs have began to pinch, her stomach doing the loose-cramp that always makes her wary of her bowels–
Ally’s face is an expanse of pink and her limbs are sluggish. Every step looks like it’ll be her last. Jackie abandons her water bottle, jogging over to run at Ally’s side.
“Almost there.”
Ally doesn’t respond, her breathing ragged.
Misty begins to clap, hollering encouragement from the sidelines. “You can do it Ally! You got this–”
The cheering has the opposite effect on Ally. She stops dead in her tracks, a flurry of blotched limbs.
Turning away from their teammates, Jackie says, “Finish strong Ally. The others are counting on you.”
“No they’re not!” The younger girl manages between gasping breaths. “Mari heard what Natalie said to you– she told me–” Ally glares ahead, presumably at Taissa.
Typical. Jackie places a hand on Ally’s upper arm. “Who cares? Finish your sprints and prove them wrong. You’re capable.”
It's not exactly a lie. Ally is pretty good for a Freshman. Certainly not the best player on the team but the rest of them are Seniors and Juniors. Taissa’s little ‘lesson,’ is unnecessary. Ally got playtime in State, Coach Martinez would probably rotate Kristen in for Nationals– she was more reliable if not more docile.
As fantastic as Taissa is at soccer, she can be dick. Not looking forward to that discussion– Jackie shakes her head.
“Ally you made varsity as a Freshman. That’s a big deal!” Jackie squeezes her arm, giving her best attempt at a comforting smile.
“Not even Nat made varsity Freshman year– Taissa was only a swinger Freshman year.” Jackie leans in conspiratorially. “I didn’t make varsity until halfway through Sophomore season.”
Ally’s breathing began to level, the frustration and distraught expression slackening as Jackie divulged little known information to her. Taking this as a good sign, Jackie continues.
“You’re already so ahead of the curve.” She releases Ally’s arm, gesturing to the field. “How many other freshmen get the playtime you have this season?”
“None,” Ally says, hesitant.
Jackie snaps her fingers, “Exactly. So you have to keep your head up, okay?”
Ally nods, hesitant determination beginning to well upon her face.
“Let’s finish together,” Jackie offers.
“Alright,” Ally agrees, before breaking into a laborious run. Jackie follows at her side.
“Turner, Taylor. My office now.” Coach Martinez barks. Ally exits his office, turning her nose up at Taissa as they cross paths. In her anger she doesn’t acknowledge Jackie. The rest of the locker room stills, their conversations muting as Coach’s order echoes around the room.
Nat slams her locker, the teary eyed Ally fleeing the room.
“Seriously?” Nat scowls at Taissa, storming out the door.
Jackie doesn’t have a moment to dwell on Nat’s actions. Taissa enters the office and Jackie is forced to follow.
For once, Jackie doesn’t face the discerning wrath of Coach Martinez alone in his cramped office after hours. Despite doing nothing wrong– Jackie shuffles her feet in anticipation, avoiding the seat at his desk. She opts for slumping against the closed doorway. She tugs at the hem of her practice shorts.
Taissa sits in the chair across from Coach Martinez, poker face activated. She doesn’t fiddle or jiggle her leg in guilt. Instead, Taissa clasps her hands and sits straight in the chair.
“Coach?” Taissa says as a benign prompt.
He doesn’t answer, steepling his fingers, looking down them as he regards Taissa. He breaks eye contact momentarily to acknowledge Jackie, and proceeds.
“I’m going to talk to you like an adult. Is that okay with you two?”
Well versed in his rhetorical questions, Taissa says, “Sure Coach.”
“Do you know why I made Jackie team captain this year?”
Nearly swallowing her tongue, Jackie tries her best not to flounder. The doorway jabs her shoulder blade but drawing Taissa’s attention to her now feels like a death sentence.
There is a subdued ripple in Taissa’s body language. Jackie’s unsure if Coach misses it or fails to care.
“There was a Becca shaped hole?” Her voice is icy. From Jackie’s angle she can just make out Taissa smiling, as if to soothe the jab.
Coach Martinez hardly blinks at the implication. “Hardly.” His eyes flicker over to Jackie, pinning her in place.
“Obviously it's not because she’s our best player. Shauna’s faster, Van’s got her on footwork on footwork for a mile, and Taissa,” he inhales deeply. “I think you could have a real future in the sport.”
The blows don’t stop landing– wowza effort amounts to shit. Pinned is correct– she’s an insect according to Coach. She misses Taisssa’s reception of his spiel, burning with poorly muffled anger and shame.
Coach Martinez shakes his head. “It’s too bad you’re immature and unprofessional.” He thrusts a hand at Jackie. “Taylor has more heart in her pinky finger than you do, Turner… Icing out the freshman?” Coach Martinez chuckles. “Not your best idea.” He claps his hands together.
“I’ve let this go on long enough– I thought some rivalry would do both of you some good,” he makes ‘what can you do,’ expression. “Numbers don’t lie, you have comparable stats. The only reason Jackie is Team Captain is because she wouldn’t pull shit like this.”
For the first time since ordering them into the office, there is an aura of rage that boils from beneath his otherwise untouchable demeanor. Jackie’s jaw slackens, though she quickly schools the expression into something neutral.
“I chose right,” Coach Martinez says.
“Bullshit,” Taissa hisses.
He raises an eyebrow at the outburst but otherwise lets the curse go unaddressed. “You will apologize to Ally. Better hope she accepts or you’re spending the first game benched for Nationals, Turner.”
“That’s not fair!” Taissa swivels in her chair, silently demanding support from Jackie. “Ally had three turnovers at State–”
“What do you think, Taylor?” Coach Martinez asks.
Jackie unfolds her arms from her chest, the tension and distraught on Taissa’s face twisting her stomach. But Taissa also went around the Coaches back and her’s. Unwilling to voice this, Jackie just nods, “Mari will fill in if…”
Taissa clutches at the armrests of her chair. Disgust and anger radiating from her still figure. “Are we done here?”
Before Taissa can completely vacate the premise, Jackie catches up. “Tai– wait–”
“What do you want Jackie?” She snaps, shoving her cleats into her gym bag.
“I know that was rough but… you can’t just freeze people out. You need to ease up. I want this just as much as you–”
Taissa slams her locker door shut. “Do you?” She whips around until they are nearly chest to chest. “That why you’re skipping practice to get finger blasted?” She shoulder checks Jackie as she storms towards the exit.
The air is heavy and wretched, heat pools at the apples of Jackie’s cheeks. Maybe it's the fact Taissa always presented herself as someone above rumors, or Coach Martinez’s indirect dressing down, or the manufactured rivalry he incepted… Jackie gathers her things and heads to her car in an utter daze.
There’s a moment of pure relief– someone is sitting on the hood of her car– her heart soars at the thought that Nat waited up for her– and it comes crashing down; Jeff is sitting on the hood of her car.
She doesn’t have enough energy to tell him to leave her alone. When he hops off, meeting her halfway to the car, she just watches him approach. “Hard day?” Jeff gestures at her disheveled hair.
“What do you think?”
She fetches the keys from her backpack, movement stiff. Jeff hovers at her side, concern wafting off of him in waves.
“Did… Shauna tell you about…?” He mumbles something incoherent.
Tossing her backpack and soccer bag inside the car, Jackie plops into the driver's seat. She sits sideways, legs resting on pavement, the hand rest digging into her back painfully, as she turns her attention back to Jeff.
“You know she’s not talking to me.” Jackie imbues every ounce of nonchalance she can gather into the statement.
Jeff runs his hands through his hair, eyes straying along her person. “You really hurt her,” he inhales deeply. As if he let one too many things slip.
“She’s been ignoring my calls, Jeff!” Anger bursts along the muffled sadness, preferable to the rank blue. “I’ve stood on her doorstep and she looks out the window– I’d really love to hear all about how I hurt Shauna!”
“You don’t believe in her, Jackie!” Jeff puffs out his chest, defending his friend’s honor. “Shauna applied to Ivy Leagues and all you can talk about is your guys’ dorm decor at Rutgers. Are you kidding me?”
Struck, Jackie cannot fire back. Ivy Leagues?
“Shauna got a full ride to Brown and you want to hold her back!” His face twists in disgust, he briefly turns to the side. As if he can’t bear to look at Jackie.
“Jeff, what are you talking about?” An image is beginning to form inside Jackie’s head, she lifts her feet into the car until her knees fit snugly beneath her chin. Shauna got into Brown and didn’t tell me.
“You're a bad friend!” Jeff bursts out and then because this clearly isn’t just about Shauna and Jackie– “And a bad girlfriend!”
Jackie laughs.
“I’m not your girlfriend, Jeff! Jesus I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. We’re over. O-V-E-R!” Then: “And Shauna never even told me she was applying to Brown. So shove your ‘bad’ friend accusations up your ass!”
The wind is knocked from Jeff’s sails. His mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. “What?”
Righteousness burns through Jackie like a torchlight. “Y’know, Shauna’s the bad friend. She saw me ‘kissing’ someone in Home Ec. and now there’s a rumor that I got gang banged over a sewing machine and I don’t know the father! I’m not the one who’s losing the Friend of the Year Award!” She practically screams the last part.
Her breathing is ragged and anguished tears cake her face. She feels– god why would Shauna–?
Jeff approaches her, reaching to wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” His hands are warm and surprisingly gentle. Jeff hesitatingly wraps her in his arms.
He’s not Nat though. He egged on the rumors and has been glued to Shauna’s side throughout the whole ordeal. Jeff was never a good boyfriend and he makes an even worse ex-boyfriend. He holds her and there’s some unspoken relief in it, her body quakes with emotion, and Jeff squeezes her tighter.
Everyone thinks she’s a whore. Nat doesn’t want her. Shauna has been lying to Jeff about her– everything is fucked up.
Mr. White, the World Religion’s teacher, says there’s an inevitability to things. That one drink is never just one drink. One drink with an ex lover or someone that has caught your eye, it always leads to one thing.
Jeff’s hands are at her sides, cupping the curves, and there's a thick emotion that Jackie doesn’t want to examine. She’s not sure when the comfort shifts into something else. There’s no music this time, no playful banter.
Jackie slips off the golden ring at her thumb and pretends that he’s someone else when he slips to his knees, bowing his head.
God someone get this dirtbag some knee pads, someone that sounds suspiciously like Nat, mocks inside Jackie’s head. Jackie kicks off shorts, underwearing remaining looped around one ankle. With a surprising amount of ferocity she pulls Jeff by his hair until he is flush with her nakedness.
Dissatisfied with his steady ministrations, Jackie grinds down– “You look so fucking stupid.” Maybe he wants to jerk away at the harsh words but she tugs harsh at his hair, chastising him. They want to call her a whore? Okay– what does that make Jeff?
“Kept sticking your fingers in me like I’m a bowling ball– I should’ve bit your dick off. Do you know how pathetic it is that you've never made me cum? And you want to call me your girlfriend,” Jackie pulls him away, tracks the wetness coating his mouth and chin.
“What am I to you, Jeff?”
His eyes smolder– dazed and horny and his pride wilts away. “Not my girlfriend. You’re not my girlfriend.”
Good. Jackie rewards this acknowledgement by shoving his face back to her crotch. “Suck me off.”
Jackie Taylor bent over a sewing machine getting finger banged? Jackie Taylor face fucks a kneeling jock in the drivers seat of a car. She’s not a slut– she’s– come on, you’re definitely being a slut right now, Jackie.
The voice that sounds suspiciously like Nat, hovers near her ear, whispering: slut.
She cums with a harsh buckling of the hips, biting her knuckles. Vacating the crux of her lap, Jeff sits on the back of his heels, dazed.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He wipes hastily at the mess on his face.
Momentarily blissed out, Jackie offhandedly says, “Make me cum? Way past due.”
“Shauna and I are together–” Jeff springs to his feet, covering his hard on. “You can’t tell her!”
Jackie scrambles to pull her underwear and shorts on, heart about to burst. “What the fuck Jeff?” She doesn’t wait for his reply, slamming the door shut, and turning on the car. She peels out of the parking lot, not sparing him a glance. Fuck.