luv4writing

Natalie is a firm believer that student-athletes should be excused from having to take phys-ed, especially because she can't stand watching the try-hard football players over-exert themselves to impress the girls who are more concerned about preserving their makeup than getting a good grade.

As irritating as it is, she is sometimes entrained by how little regard you have for them. Those same guys who would call her "easy" are always somehow the ones groveling for your attention- and the one thing about you, Natalie is okay with admitting that she likes, is how much you enjoy humbling them.

"Hey, Y/n. You coming out with us this weekend?" Chuck, some jock, saunters over to, all sweaty and out of breath from doing god-knows-what. You turn over your shoulder, your conversation with Jackie being interrupted, brows raising and smile fading mostly.

"Why would I be coming out with you guys?" you ask, genuinely confused, but amping up the clueless lilt in your tone to mess with him. Chuck laughs like you're being adorably unknowing instead of degrading.

“C’mon,” he says, leaning a forearm against the bleachers beside you. “Party at Sean’s place. Everybody’s gonna be there.” You blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-like, expression still painfully sweet.

“That sounds awful.” Jackie snorts into her water bottle at your sarcasm. A couple of the guys behind Chuck laugh too, the kind of laugh people make when they’re trying not to get caught agreeing with someone cooler than them. Chuck’s grin falters as he straightens.

“You think you’re funny?”

“No,” you say easily. “I think I’m right.”

Jackie fully laughs this time, throwing her head back, as Chuck’s ears go red. Natalie watches the exact moment he realizes this interaction is not going the way he had pictured it in his head- fluttery lashes and a dainty grin, maybe your number if he pushed hard enough- never in a million years. Instead, you’re dissecting him, eating him alive with a smile that somehow still looks pretty and polite. It should annoy her more than it does.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Don’t come then.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He scoffs and turns away, shoulders stiff, while his friends trail after him. The second they’re out of earshot, Jackie grins.

“You are so mean!” she playfully shoves you, giggling as you roll you eyes with a lazy grin. You shrug, reaching down to pick up your water bottle and begin making your way to the locker room.

“He’ll live.”

A few minutes go by as everyone refreshes and changes after doing what felt like nothing in gym class. Natalie has replayed your encounter with Chuck over and over again, at least six times since it happened mere moments ago. She knows you're an asshole, but mostly just because you're an asshole to her. But watching you be mean to some idiot jock, who has definitely done something to piss her off before, too? It made her heart race in a way you should never be able to cause, and THAT was enough to put her in a bad mood.

Natalie fixes her eyeliner, watching you in the mirror, as you adjust your boobs to sit fuller in your lacy bra, which is now peeking out from the top of your tank top.

"I'm surprised your daddy even lets you wear that shit, princess." She doesn't even look at you as she says it, but she sees a few heads snap to her, including yours.

"What's it to you, burnout?"

"Nothin'... just find it funny how you like to play dress up in your "cool girl" clothes, when everybody knows you still have to be told what to wear for Sunday mass." This earns a few snickers from the remaining girls. You even let out a soft, unamused huff, rolling your eyes and turning fully to face her.

"Yeah? You got a problem with my tits being out? Is it distracting you from all the hard work you do in school?" You've crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your boobs together even more. Natalie rolls her eyes to hide how she was obviously staring. The saccharine, dramatically concerned tone of your voice pulls a few giggles from the room again. You push off the ledge you were leaning against and slowly saunter over to Natalie.

"We wouldn't want that, now would we? You've gotta stay at the top of the class, right, Nat? I mean, who else is gonna be valedictorian?" You're now facing her as you lean against the counter where Nat's been touching up her makeup. You're too close for her liking as you talk sweetly and sarcastically, practically purring with condescension as your voice glides over and through her, smooth like velvet.

"You trying to be cute right now?" Natalie side eyes you before returning her gaze to her own reflection, smudging the black eyeliner under her waterline.

"I mean, everybody knows you get the best grades in our class-" she turns to face you fully, "but that's just because you've fucked every teacher in the building, huh?" You scoff and roll your eyes, more irritated by the cadence of dramatic "oohs" that echoed through the locker room, than the obvious lie from the bleach blonde in front of you.

"Don't actually have anything against me, so you're making shit up now?" You move to close the distance between the two of you, a scowl on your face and a fire in your eyes

"We both know only one of us is desperate enough to suck someone's dick for a favor-" you don't even finish your whispered insult before Natalie is shoving you away from her. It's not hard or aggressive enough to knock you down, but you do stumble slightly, the tiniest hint of a smirk on your lips, the urge to fight still simmering in your eyes, daring Natalie to say something else.

"Hey!" Jackie rushes to step in between the two of you. "Knock it off, Nat! You seriously trying to get benched for the game tomorrow?" Natalie's eyes widen for a moment, shocked that Jackie is only addressing her right now. She shakes her head with a scoff and moves to shove her gym bag back in her locker before leaving.

Later that day at practice, during one of their water breaks, Nat side-eyes Jackie and contemplates even mentioning the situation from earlier. It wasn't a big deal- the two of you argue like that all the time, but Jackie (or anyone for that matter) has ever gotten in the middle of it.

"So... what was that all about earlier?" Nat questions as she hovers near the captain. Jackie glances over at her with a raised brow as she continues to sip her water. Nat sighs, irritated that she even has to bring it back up

"You defending Y/n." Jackie furrows her brows in confusion, turning fully to face the other girl.

"I wasn't defending her; I was making sure you didn't get yourself into more trouble before our game. We need you on the field, Nat- not on the bench." Ignoring the small pinch in her heart at the indirect praise, Natalie rolls her eyes again. Jackie, of course, sees this and proceeds

"I mean, even if I was defending her- you did start the argument, Nat..."

"Oh my god- I was teasing her!" "Completely unprovoked" the blonde guffaws, looking around in astonishment, even though she knows Jackie is right.

The captain gives her an accusatory look, causing Nat to roll her eyes and groan dramatically again (Jackie thinks they might actually fall out this time from how hard she rolled them). Practice resumes and finishes, the day ends, and the week continues- as it always does.

The sun is shining, it's warm but breezy, and practice just got canceled. Natalie should be able to say she's in a good mood, and she actually was, until she walked past you, leaning over the hood of your old Cadillac- ass perked out perfectly in your denim mini skirt, perfect curls shining in the sunlight, your face resting delicately in your hand, framed by perfectly painted red nails.

You were charming some poor guy who definitely never stood a chance, and as enchanting as you looked, it made Natalie's chest burn, her stomach twisting with distaste for you. She couldn't help herself as she walked past and pinched the back of your thigh, eliciting a mix of a gasp and some sort of squeak from you as you whip around.

"Oops, sorry princess- didn't mean to bump into you!" You jerk away from the hood of the Cadillac so fast your curls bounce over your shoulders, one hand flying to the back of your thigh where Natalie had pinched you. The poor guy beside you blinks between the two of you like he’d just stumbled into the middle of a live grenade.

“Natalie,” Your voice comes sharp and sweet at the same time, the kind of tone that always made her feel like she was being mocked even when she wasn’t. All delivered with a pearly white pageant queen smile, and loathsome fire in your eyes.

“You know, most people say excuse me without assaulting somebody.” Nat only smirks, shoulders rolling as she steps closer instead of away.

“Assault is dramatic. You’ll live.” The guy you were just talking to laughs nervously, giving Natalie an in to take this even further.

“You got somewhere to be?” She looks at him, eyes narrowing just enough to make him straighten up.

“Uh, actually, yeah, I think Coach wanted-”

“No, he didn’t,” you cut in immediately, glaring at Natalie over your shoulder. “Don’t let her scare you.”

“I was just asking a simple question, not trying to scare anyone,” Natalie shrugs, though the crooked grin on her face made it obvious she absolutely was.

The guy mutters something about seeing you later before practically fleeing across the parking lot. The second he disappears, you whip back around to face Natalie.

“Happy now?” you huff, arms crossed. Natalie shrugs with that stupid, casual grin on her face, absolutely shameless.

“Ecstatic.” you scoff. “You are unbelievable.”

Natalie’s grin only widens at the way your face twists.

“Yeah?” she says, stepping closer until there’s barely any room left between you, an expression of faux pity. “Cry about it.”

Your laugh comes out short and sharp as you turn your head away for a moment. A mixture of astonishment and amusement.

“God, you’re obsessed with me.” Your grin is borderline evil. Mean. Pretty. Provocative.

That hits something. Natalie’s jaw tightens instantly, eyes narrowing as the breeze tosses strands of blonde hair across her face.

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” she backs away slightly, her own expression now twisting in distaste, which only causes you to push back with more fire.

“Then why are you always so worried about what I'm doing?” you snap back. “I mean, you practically follow me around like a fucking stray dog at this point."

“Careful,” she says lowly, her expression darkening.

“Or what?” You tilt your head, all mock innocence again, though your eyes are blazing now.

For a second, neither of you moves. The parking lot noise dulls into the background- distant car doors slamming, laughter somewhere across campus, the chaos of after-school sports. Natalie can feel her pulse in her throat. She hates how calm you look standing there in your tiny skirt and glossy lips, leaning back against that stupid Cadillac like you're untouchable.

You raise a perfectly sleek eyebrow at her silence.

"Nothing? Thought so." Your voice is soft, condescending. Your smile is delicate and venomous.

You turn back around to open your car door and finally get in as you hear Nat scoff and mumble something bitterly behind you.

“What, you gonna pinch me again, Nat?” you ask softly, leaning over your front seat to toss your bag in the passenger seat.

Natalie wants to jump into oncoming traffic as she can't help but stare at your ass. She feels even worse once she catches a peek of your panties under your skirt. There's no way in hell you're not doing this on purpose...

“Or were you just looking for an excuse to touch me?” you straighten up, leaning against your open car door with your arm on top of the frame, looking effortlessly cool. Natalie’s stomach drops so violently it pisses her off.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, shaking her head once like she can physically throw your words off her skin. “You really think everybody wants you.”

“Oh no,” you say, voice smooth as honey, almost sounding genuine. But of course, Natalie knows better.

“You just seem to have an odd obsession with me that would only make sense if you were secretly in love with me or something.” Natalie steps forward so fast your smile finally falters. Barely. Her hand slams the car door shut, causing you to flinch slightly out of the way.

“You wanna keep talking?” You glance calmly at the car door for half a second before dragging your eyes back up to hers. Close enough now to count each other's lashes. To feel each other breathing.

“What?” you murmur. “Hit a nerve?”

Nat's jaw ticks as you continue to smirk calmly. Neither of you looks away, and it's clear neither of you plans to back down any time soon.

"As much as I love reminding you not to fuck with me, I have to go," You whisper cooly, a pout taking over your lips as your faux pity drifts between you two. Natalie laughs humorlessly under her breath, glancing to the side for a moment.

She backs down, not quite accepting defeat yet, but also not about to keep you hostage against your own car in the school parking lot. You give her the quickest glance over, before reaching behind you to pull you care door open and slip inside. Your windows are already rolled down, radio on a decently low volume.

“You know, one of these days," Natalie says coldly, eyes flicking over your perfect hair, your glossed lips, your too-sweet smile, “you’re gonna run into somebody who doesn’t give a shit how pretty you are... and then you’ll realize there’s literally nothing else underneath all this prom queen bullshit.”

Your chin lifts immediately, defiant. Your cocky grin falters slightly, less amused and now mostly over the interaction.

“Yeah?” you whisper. “Well, if you're so sure of that, why don't you fuck around and come find out, huh?”

You turn your radio up, holding eye contact, then back out of your parking spot. Natalie bites her cheek as she watches you drive away, bitter fury and blind rage soaring through her body.

Natalie passes you in your car again the next day. Your windows are up this time, and your car doesn't shake as the bass blares through your speakers. She's actually pretty sure you're sitting in silence this time around...

You swipe your hands across your face, wiping away your tears, trying not to fuck up your makeup any more than you already have.

Natalie only catches pieces of it as she walks by.

Your glossy lipstick is smudged near the corner of your mouth. Mascara shadows stain beneath your eyes. One of your (usually) perfectly curled pieces of hair has gone limp against your cheek from where you’ve clearly been dragging your hands over your face. It’s jarring.

You always look so painfully put together. Like every detail of you has been rehearsed down to the way each individual eyelash curls into place. Perfect posture. Perfect hair. Perfect smile. Like if Natalie dug her nails into you hard enough, she’d hit porcelain instead of skin.

But of course, Natalie knows better.

She's far too aware that underneath all the pageant princess smiles and prom queen bullshit, you’re just as fucked up as she is. Maybe worse. She sees it in the way your smile twitches sometimes when people stop looking. In how mean you get when someone corners you too hard. In the way your eyes go cold instead of scared whenever somebody hits a nerve.

You're as fucked up as she is. You just hide it better than she does, that’s all.

And right now, sitting alone in your car with tears streaking carefully applied makeup down your face, you look exactly like what Natalie always knew you were:

A mess.

She slows for half a second before immediately hating herself for it. For that one awful moment, she considers knocking on the window. She doesn’t even know why. Her jaw tightens. You don’t notice her at first, too busy fumbling with the visor mirror, trying to fix your lipstick with shaky fingers. Then your eyes flick toward the window.

The second you see her outside the car, your whole expression changes. Not sad anymore- guarded.

Your chin lifts automatically, eyes cold, shoulders squaring like muscle memory. Like even crying alone in your car isn’t something you’d let Natalie catch without turning it into a fight.

Nat scoffs quietly under her breath and keeps walking. because whatever’s got you crying hard enough to ruin your makeup probably has nothing to do with her. And for some reason, that bothers her more than if it did.

The same awful party you told Chuck you wouldn't be at is exactly where Natalie ended up this weekend. And going against your own word, where you end up as well.

When she first spots you, you're dancing with Jackie, smiling and drunkenly singing along as she holds onto by the belt loops of your low-cut jeans. Nat immediately searches for Shauna, who she finds leaning against a nearby wall, analyzing the same scene. She wanders over and joins the brunette in her observing.

Shauna briefly glances sideways as Natalie comes to stand beside her, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

“You look miserable,” she quips plainly.

Natalie snorts. “You look sober. Which is honestly worse.”

Shauna hums in acknowledgment, lifting the beer in her hand with a slight tilt. “I'm working on it.”

For a while, neither of them says anything, both sipping on their shitty drinks, each simply observing a girl they spend far too much time thinking about.

Jackie laughs as you nearly stumble into her during the chorus of some song Natalie vaguely recognizes, your head tipping back while you sing dramatically into an invisible microphone. It’s obnoxious. Loud. Attention-seeking.

But it’s also… easy.

That’s the part Natalie can’t understand. You always seem so effortless around other people. Like you were born already knowing exactly how much space to take up. Meanwhile, Natalie feels raw all the time- too loud, too angry, too obvious in every room she walks into. People look at her and immediately know there’s something wrong with her.

With you, they just see pretty first.

Shauna snorts quietly beside her as some drunk guy tries to dance his way toward you, only for Jackie to physically shove him back into the crowd. He doesn't seem to take too much offense, seeing as the two pretty girls in front of him are just laughing and joking around.

“She’s gonna break his heart in like- six minutes,” Shauna mutters.

Natalie scoffs, taking another sip from whatever terrible drink she grabbed earlier. “Six is generous.”

Still, she keeps watching.

Because there’s something weirdly hypnotic about seeing you like this- loose and laughing and careless instead of sharp-edged and glaring at her across a parking lot. Relaxed instead of making yourself seem untouchable to the general public. Your smile actually reaches your eyes tonight, and Natalie hates that she notices.

But she hates it even more that every few minutes, despite being surrounded by people, your expression flickers- just for a second. Like something underneath all the glitter and velvet keeps trying to claw its way up. Something tired. Distracted. Sad, maybe. Then it’s gone again before anyone else seems to catch it.

But Natalie catches it. Of course she does.

It's a couple hour later when Natalie finds you sitting on the steps of the side entrance to the house, red cup in hand, almost empty. She walks past you and lights her cigarette, inhaling as she looks over her shoulder to get a good glance at you. Your eyes are red and swollen, black eyeliner smudged unintentionally under your eyes, mascara stains watercoloring your cheeks as if you tried to wipe away your tears but gave up prematurely.

"You look like you need another drink." She takes a drag from her cigarette as you glare up at her. You glance back into your cup and watch the liquid swirl around as you shift your wrist.

"I think that's the last thing I need right now," you mumble, and Nat feels the natural pity start to form in her chest that always inevitably arrives when she's around you at parties.

"You want a cigarette then?" you scoff and roll your eyes, standing from your meek position.

"You know I don't smoke those things."

"Right, I forgot- you only smoke weed, cuz that's so much better for you than tobacco-" "Well, it is." Natalie chuckles and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a joint and holding it up to eye level.

“This better fit your brand, princess?” Your eyes flick to it for a second before narrowing again. “You offering or making fun of me?”

“Little bit of both.”

You let out a humorless laugh and snatch it from her fingers anyway. Natalie watches you inspect it for a second before holding it loosely between two manicured fingers like you’re not entirely sure what to do with yourself anymore. You glance back up at Natalie with glassy eyes and a soft pout, and she immediately mentally punches herself for the way her pulse halts for a moment

"I need a lighter," you mumble tiredly. She rolls her eyes, but hands you hers without a second thought.

You light the joint and inhale, closing your eyes and relaxing as soon as the smoke is exhaled. You lean back to rest your weight on one of your palms, beginning to zone out. Natalie continues to smoke her cigarette and shift her gaze around the driveway, occasionally landing back on you every now and then.

"What's got you all mopey this time?"

"The fuck do you care?" There's not any actual bite behind your words, just a lingering tiredness that seems to follow you in your most honest moments.

"I don't, just bored and nosy," she drifted off, gaze tilting away as she leaned against the side of the house.

A casual silence falls between the two of you as you continue to smoke and stare ahead at the side of the house next door.

“So... you cry all your makeup off for fun?” Natalie asks casually, smoke curling from her mouth, “or did you already get ditched before you could even get his pants off?”

The second the words leave her mouth, your entire posture changes. Your shoulders stiffen. Your expression shutters. Natalie feels it immediately- that familiar moment where something she meant one way lands another. Harder. Meaner.

You glare up at her briefly, biting your cheek before taking a much longer drag of the joint and turning to face forward again. "I'm not doing this with you tonight..."

And instead of accepting that she took it too far and should just leave it at that, Nat feels like it's easier to take it further- easier to provoke you into saying something equally as mean so she feels less bad about it.

So she laughs. It’s sharp and empty, like she’s trying to scrape the guilt off her tongue with it.

“Right,” she bites, rolling her eyes as she exhales smoke away from you.

“Because you’re just so above it all, huh? Sitting out here alone like it’s some tragic character moment instead of you just doing what you always do- pushing people away before they get the chance to see what a tragic mess you actually are.”

Her gaze drags over you again, colder now, more deliberate. You know she's trying to pull a reaction from you, but you truly are too exhausted to care, and it reads. which only makes Nat feel worse, and push harder.

“Must be exhausting,” she adds lightly, like she doesn’t care either way. “Playing perfect until nobody sticks around long enough to prove you’re not.”

"Yeah, sorry I'm not like you..." and that littlest bit of a response is enough to fuel the fire.

"Like you're any different? You probably just got done sucking some guy off in the bathroom, and he told you he didn't wanna take you back to his place, which is why you're out here crying like a little bitch-"

"Oh fuck off, Nat-" you push off the stoop, ready to end the conversation and head out.

"No, cuz you always do this shit- you always think you're so much better than me, cuz you don't show how fucked up you really are to everyone else!" She aggressively shoves her finger in your chest, causing you to lose your balance and stumble a bit in your drunken state. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Nat isn't finished.

"You fucking suck, Y/n! You're an absolute bitch, and no one can fucking stand you, and how you act all high and mighty- You really think anyone is actually buying this "rebel preacher's daughter" bullshit? Cuz I'm definitely not!" Natalie is practically screaming in your face as she gradually stalks toward you, invading your space. There's still a fire in your eyes as you bite your lip, but it shimmers with fresh tears that you're trying your hardest to push back.

"Yeah, well, my dad's not even a preacher, so that doesn't make any sense anyway-" you mumble pitifully, still trying to seem tough even though it's clear you don't really give a fuck about forming any actual arguments at this point. You glare back anyway as Natalie rolls her eyes so hard they might fall out of her head. She lets out a humorless laugh and cuts you off again

"My bad, princess, cuz that totally fucking matters right now." she lowers her voice, a bit calmer, but still carrying the same intensity and venom as before.

"Point is, you're not fooling anyone." She shakes her head as she leans in, invading your space to a point that actually has you swallowing the lump in your throat. "You are just as much of a train wreck as I am... and just because you can get all dressed up and bat your eyes at people to make them do what you want, doesn't change the fact that your daddy hates you and your mommy wishes you were anyone but yourself."

Natalie herself doesn't even know where this is coming from. She didn't even want to pick a fight with you tonight for fun. Matter of fact- she was even enjoying the few moments the two of you seemed to be able to coexist in each other's relative space. She feels herself getting sicker and sicker the further she takes it, hoping you'll snap like you always do and even it out. But that never happens.

Your bottom lip trembles, the emotion in your eyes rapidly flashing back and forth between furious and heartbroken. You try your best to maintain eye contact, but unfortunately, Natalie won this round. She knew exactly which nerves to strike, and exactly how to do so.

"Fuck you, Natalie." You place your hand on her chest and slightly shove her back, making enough room between the two of you to allow you to shoulder check her as you leave. Nat turns over her shoulder to watch you leave, an unsatisfied feeling weighing on her chest.

The rest of the weekend passes as it always does, slow and boring. The Yellowjackets had a game early Saturday afternoon, and in celebration of them winning, Jackie decided to throw a party at the last minute. You weren't at the game, which is fair, since it was an away game, and it was usually a fifty-fifty chance of you and the other prom queen candidates to come out to those.

However, any time Jackie Taylor hosted a party, you were present. Nat still doesn't understand the dynamic between the two of you, seeing as Shauna also hasn't formed a solid opinion. It seems like you and Jackie lived in your own little world when you were around each other, which made sense on one hand, due to the perfect hair and glimmering smiles, seeming like the epitomes of high school royalty... but on the other hand, Natalie always wondered if Jackie really knew you at all, or if she just knew you the way everyone did- which is unfortunately how most people knew Jackie as well.

You didn't show up that night either. The first time in all of high school history, you missed one of Jackie's parties. That in itself wasn't enough to ruin Natalie's night, but the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about it is what actually led her to drink more than usual. Which, of course, only made things worse. So much worse, that for the first time ever, Natalie found herself subconsciously moaning your name when she came around some guy's fingers during seven minutes in heaven.

You've proceeded to invade her thoughts for the rest of the weekend, and into the new week, until she spots you with your friends on Monday morning.

It’s annoying, honestly. That’s what Natalie tells herself as she rounds the corner by the lockers and sees you standing there like nothing ever happened. Like she didn’t say it. Like you didn’t look at her like that afterward.

You’re laughing with Lottie at something Jackie says, head tipped back slightly, hair falling perfectly into place like it always does when you move. One hand is on your locker, the other gesturing lazily as you talk- effortless, practiced, untouchable. Normal.

But Natalie catches it anyway.

The smallest hesitation before your smile settles. A fraction of a beat too long where your eyes don’t quite match your expression. Like your body remembered how to laugh before the rest of you caught up.

Jackie doesn’t notice- or maybe she does and just spares you the callout. Maybe you've already explained the whole thing to her. Maybe you actually opened up to her and cried in her arms about everything.

Natalie wipes the maybes from her brain and swallows the bitterness she's already feeling at 7 am.

The point is- Natalie notices you.

She slows just enough that she could turn away and avoid this entirely, but of course, she doesn’t. Instead, she watches you for a second too long.

You shift your weight against the lockers, still talking, still smiling, but your fingers keep worrying at the strap of your bag in a repetitive motion that doesn’t match the casual tone of your voice. Like you need something to do with your hands that isn’t standing there. Your eyes flick down the hall once. Then back. Fast. Automatic. Checking.

You're antsy in a way that no one else would pick up- not immediately- except for Natalie...

Her jaw tightens slightly before she can stop it. She keeps watching you.

You laugh again at something Jackie says, but it’s a little softer than usual. Not weaker exactly- just… placed. Like it’s being used more carefully than it should be. And when you glance down at your locker to adjust the combination, your hand pauses for a split second on the dial like you’ve forgotten it mid-motion.

It’s tiny, barely anything- no one else would clock it. Natalie does.

Because she’s seen you loud and sharp and untouchable for so long that anything even slightly off feels like a crack in glass.

She shifts her weight, eyes narrowing without meaning to. You finally open your locker. Still talking. Still smiling. But your shoulders stay just a fraction too tight, like you’re holding something in place and hoping nobody asks you to let go.

Natalie exhales through her nose, already annoyed that she’s noticing this at all. She starts walking again, slower than before, angling past the group like she doesn’t care enough to stop.

Like she hasn’t been thinking about you for three straight days.

Like she didn’t memorize the exact second your voice broke.

She passes behind you just close enough to catch the faintest pause in your breathing as she goes by. Not upsetment or disgust- just awareness- like your body registered her before your eyes did.

You don’t turn, you don't even glance at her- you don’t react. But your grip tightens briefly on your locker door. And Natalie keeps walking anyway, hands shoved into her pockets, expression blank in the way that usually means she’s won something.

Except this time, it doesn’t feel like winning- it feels like you both just agreed to pretend nothing ever happened. And somehow, that’s worse.

This pattern continues through the rest of the week, and by Friday, it has entirely exhausted Natalie, sucking all the life out of her. But of course, her exhaustion can never last long on the weekends with whatever part is happening.

The house is already loud when she gets there- too loud for her already worn-down state. Cars are lined up crooked across the lawn, headlights blinding anyone within a 50-foot radius, and there’s that familiar sticky warmth in the air that comes with too many bodies in too small a space.

Natalie flicks ash from her cigarette without really looking at it and watches a couple of freshmen stumble out the front door laughing like they’ve already had the wildest night ever.

It should be simple, same as always- Walk in. Find Shauna or Van or whoever she can drink and complain with. Pretend she’s not irritated by everything and everyone in the room. Leave when it stops being tolerable.

Except she can feel it immediately.... that weird tightness behind her ribs that hasn’t gone away all week. The one she keeps blaming on lack of sleep, or her substance habits, or just general bullshit. It isn’t any of those things.

She takes one last drag, drops the cigarette under her shoe, and crushes it into the concrete before stepping up onto the porch.

Inside is even more miserable than the lawn. The smell of alcohol and perfume and something vaguely burnt overwhelms her senses before she's even able to process any of it. People pressed shoulder to shoulder in the entryway, yelling over each other like volume alone can make conversations matter more.

Natalie slips in without ceremony, shoulders brushing past someone she doesn’t look at. A guy says something to her as she passes- she doesn’t hear it, or pretends not to. Her eyes are already scanning- not for anything specific, of course.

She spots Van and Taissa near the kitchen, leaning against a counter like they've been there the whole night and plan to stay there forever. Jackie’s somewhere deeper in the crowd, of course, and seems to have dragged Shauna in with her.

Natalie starts moving through the room- slow at first, then more direct. She doesn’t like how automatically her attention keeps catching on familiar shapes—dark hair, similar posture, a laugh that sounds almost like—

No.

She cuts that thought off before it finishes forming.

Natalie drifts through the house like she always does at these things- taking half conversations, half drinks, never staying anywhere long enough to mean anything. Time gets patchy: a cigarette on the porch, a few minutes by the kitchen, Lottie saying something she barely catches and answering on autopilot.

Every so often, her attention snags on that familiarity from earlier, now heightened by the alcohol. And every time, she feels that same dull irritation under her ribs. Eventually, she stops trying to stay grounded in the party at all and takes it upon herself to take a breather.

Once she makes her way through the crowd of sweaty, drunk people, Nat ascends the staircase and makes her way down the familiar hallway. She reaches the bathroom door, and noticing that it isn't shut all the way, she pushes it open, just hoping it's empty.

Unfortunately for her, Natalie is met with you resting your palms against the countertop, head hung, with your eyes closed. There's a slight sway in your stature, and you don't seem to realize anyone has entered the bathroom. She's frozen momentarily, but forces herself to relax.

"Jesus Christ... are you bombed?" she laughs condescendingly. You slowly open your eyes and lift your head to look in the mirror and see the reflection of whoever has just interrupted your peace.

"Yup." You allow your eyes to return to their resting position and lower your head again, relaxed. Nat is slightly taken aback by your lack of response, or really your lack of presence in general.

She steps fully inside anyway, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click, slow and deliberate, like she’s deciding to stay. Then she drops onto the closed toilet seat, elbows resting loosely on her knees as she watches you in the mirror.

For a moment, she just takes you in- too still, too quiet, hair slightly out of place, eyeliner smudged from earlier but not reapplied. You look less like you’re trying to be untouchable and more like you’ve just run out of energy to keep pretending. It makes her uncomfortable, so she fixes it the only way she knows how.

"Does Jackie know how much of a fuck-up you are? or are you holding onto the last bits of your fake personality still?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" Nat wasn't expecting the exhausted response. "Ya know, for someone who acts they don't give a fuck, you sure are in my business a lot..." Your words are slurred more than Natalie has ever heard from you. Something about your lack of fight is throwing her off in a way that has a pit forming in her stomach.

"You know how much I love knocking you down a peg. I actually think I'm getting pretty good at it-" it's supposed to be a joke, an ill-intentioned one, but a joke nonetheless. You abruptly turn around, stumbling dizzily as you try to glare at Nat, letting your hands find the sink again as you lean back on it for support. Your eyes are closed, head hung as you try to put yourself together enough to walk out.

Natalie stares, concerned, never having seen you this plastered before. As tipsy as you've gotten in the past, you were smart enough to know your limits and keep yourself out of dangerous situations (for the most part). This was a new low for you.

"Dude... you're cut off." Nat chuckles slightly, trying to sound nonchalant and authoritative at the same time, but it ends up leaving her mouth more cautious than anything. She doesn't want you thinking she's gone soft on you, but there's also no way she's gonna let you give yourself alcohol poisoning (if you haven't already).

"Fuck you." you whisper, still leaning against the countertop, head swaying as if the room was still swirling around behind your eyelids. Natalie nods, mouth slightly agape, truly in disbelief.

"That's all you got?" she quips in an attempt to get you to fire back, an attempt to keep you awake. She watches you head bob up and down dramatically, taking a break from its soft swinging to respond to her.

Natalie doesn't even have time to come up with her next insult before you're shoving her off the toilet and opening the lid to throw up into it.

"Oh- Jesus Christ, y/n..." you're coughing into the bowl, head hung as you weakly try to tuck some of your hair out of your face.

"get out..." you mumble drunkenly. Nat hovers for a moment, not wanting to deal with this, but also already feeling guilty about leaving you alone in this state.

"Do you- fuck, uhm... do you want water, or something?"

"I want you to leave me the fuck alone, Nat..." your voice is muffled but echoes off the ceramic you're currently throwing up in. Natalie nods and sighs.

"Yeah, fair enough... uhm, okay yeah-" and with that, Natalie sees her exit and bolts for it. She closes the door behind her right as you begin your third wave of puking.

"Hey, Nat, you see Y/n anywhere?" some guy asks as he and his friends come up the stairs, seemingly heading in the direction she was coming from. She rubs her eyes, already exhausted by the night's adventures.

"Bathroom. She's totally plastered." She mumbles, tossing her head in the direction of the bathroom. The three guys briefly halt their movements and all glance at each other with wide eyes, before trying to hide their sadistic grins.

"Perfect, thanks." he passes her and pats her on the shoulder, he and his friends snickering as they continue down the hall. That interaction sends a terrifying chill down her spine and immediately sobers her up.

Natalie turns around and books it past them down the hall and back into the bathroom. She slams the door closed, with just as much force as she used to barrel through it. You're still where she left you, except now you're resting your head on your forearm, which is lying delicately across the toilet seat. You don't even flinch at her entrance, which spikes her heart rate.

"I can stay... if you want"

"What the fuck... no, I told you to go away-" before you can even finish, your head is back in the bowl, continuing the same as before. Natalie cringes slightly, pushing the door closed behind her and locking it. She crosses the small room and squats down next to you, gathering your hair and tying it back with the ponytail on her wrist. You make a weak attempt to swat her away, but your inebriation and active vomiting cause you to miss by a long shot.

Natalie doesn’t remember agreeing to it, at least, not really. It just sort of happens, like everything else with you lately does.

One minute you’re barely upright in the bathroom, hair pulled back, breathing like it hurts. The next, you’re slumped against her in the hallway, refusing to go home in a way that’s more stubborn than coherent.

“No,” you mumble when she tries to steer you toward the stairs. “Not going there.”

“Well, Jackie's busy, so you don’t have anywhere else to go.” she snaps automatically, then immediately regrets it when your face tightens- not angry, just… done. You blink slowly, like the thought of home is something you have to physically work through.

“Don’t care,” you say finally, quieter. “Just… not there.”

Natalie hesitates. That’s new.

It’s not like you’re refusing her. It’s like you’re refusing something else entirely, and she’s just the closest exit.

“Where then?” she asks, already annoyed at herself for asking. You lean harder into the wall for a second, eyes half-lidded, like the question is exhausting.

“Anywhere,” you mutter. Then, after a beat, more bluntly, “Not my house.”

There’s something in your tone that shuts the conversation down entirely. Natalie studies you for a second, jaw tight.

“You serious?”

You nod weakly, eyes closed, like it doesn’t matter enough to argue about. “I’ll figure it out later.”

That’s a lie, and you both know it. But you’re also clearly not in any condition to “figure anything out,” and whatever’s waiting at your house is apparently worse than her, so Natalie exhales through her nose, irritated in a way that doesn’t fully land anywhere useful.

“Okay,” she says finally, rougher than intended. “Well. You’ve got my place then.”

You don’t even react to the irritation in her tone, or question what she means, you just nod once, slow and heavy, like that’s acceptable. Like it’s just another inconvenient stop on your way out of something else.

“kay,” you mumble. “As long as it’s not there.”

She doesn’t know why she does it. She tells herself it’s logistics, damage control of some sort. Even if you and her are "sworn enemies", she's not gonna let you get hauled off by some asshole guys who would probably take advantage of you.

Outside air hits you both cold and sharp, and you immediately fold into yourself like you’ve been unplugged. Natalie ends up half-carrying you to her car, arguing with you the whole time while you insist you’re fine in a voice that is very clearly not fine.

“You’re literally falling asleep standing up,” she mutters. “I’m not.”

“You are.” You don’t fight her after that, just lean into her like your body ran out of arguments.

The ride is quiet except for the radio playing softly and your occasional muttered complaints about drinking too much, the world, whatever you can still remember being mad at. Natalie keeps her focus straight ahead, jaw tight the entire way, like she can outdrive whatever this feeling is trying to become.

Her trailer is exactly as embarrassing as she thinks it is. She notices everything you might notice too. The clutter that hasn’t been cleaned. The dim lighting. The way the place feels too small even when it’s empty.

Which is why she almost doesn’t bring you in. But you’re already leaning heavily on her shoulder again, eyes half-closed, and she doesn’t have the energy to argue anymore.

“Don’t touch anything,” she says automatically as she opens the door. You hum something that might be agreement or might be sleep.

Inside, she gets you water you barely drink, and a change of clothes (which you nearly fall over, multiple times, trying to put on), and points you toward her bed with a sharp, “You’re sleeping there. Don’t complain.”

You blink at it like it’s foreign territory. “That’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she says. “And I’m not using it tonight.”

You frown, like you want to argue, but your body gives out on you first. You collapse onto it dressed in one of her t-shirts and a pair of her sweatpants, curling into yourself like you’re trying to disappear into the mattress. Natalie stands there for a second longer than necessary, then she grabs a blanket from somewhere and tosses it over you without ceremony, which has you whining softly in protest.

“I’m fine on the floor,” You don’t respond. Within minutes, your breathing evens out, out cold like nothing happened.

Natalie sits on the floor beside the bed for a while, back against it, staring at nothing in particular. She doesn’t sleep right away; she just listens, making sure you’re still breathing like you’re supposed to be.

Eventually, she does fall asleep like that.

When she wakes up, it’s sunlight and silence. Too much silence.

She glances up at where you should be to see that the bed is empty. She sits up too fast, hair messy, heart already dropping before her brain fully catches up. The bed is cold, like you've already been gone for a while- or were never even there to begin with. The only evidence of your presence being the the slightly skewed blankets and the imprint in her sheets.

Natalie stares at it for a long second, then she gets up and checks anyway. Bathroom. Kitchen. Outside. Like there’s going to be some explanation waiting around a corner.

There isn’t, of course.

A new week starts, and suddenly it's like you're unavoidable. You’re with your friends, per usual- put together, presentable, normal in the way you always are in public- but something’s off. similar to the previous week, but somehow even more so.

You don’t look at her- not once. Not when she passes in the hallway. Not when Jackie calls out your name as you pass by the soccer field during their practice. Not even when she makes sure to pass your car every morning, at the exact time you get to school.

And when someone says something funny near you, you smile- but it doesn’t reach anywhere it usually does. It's not the careful, controlled, perfectly placed, award-winning smile you put on every day- it's low maintenance and tired, giving just enough effort to still be perceived as darling.

Natalie doesn’t say anything- not like she even could if she wanted to, because while you seem unavoidable to her, she's pretty sure she's not even on your radar right now.

So she doesn’t joke. Doesn’t cut at you like she would’ve a week ago just to get a reaction. She just watches. And the longer she does, the more that uneasy feeling settles in her chest.

It's Thursday when Natalie is finally able to get close enough to see just how terrible you truly look. She opens the door to the girls' bathroom and stalls for a millisecond as her eyes land on you. You're washing your hands, but you seem completely zoned out. You look exhausted and a little sick, to be quite honest.

"Jesus Christ. Please don't tell me you're gonna kill yourself."

"What?" you mumble, snapping out of your daze as you meet Natalie's gaze in the mirror. She's hovering behind you- far enough to seem casual, close enough to be able to make out genuine concern in her eyes. You look slightly panicked- at the accusation as a whole or the fact that it's Natalie who's asking, she's not sure which causes you to react that way.

Nat opens and closes her mouth, struggling to find the right words. She clears her throat and tries to seem nonchalant as she steps further into the bathroom, "Nothing, just... joking around"

You watch her, cautiously, through the reflection of the mirror, "Oh... uhm... okay"

Natalie purses her lips and nods, about to head into one of the stalls, as she watches you pick up your bag and turn to leave. She sighs

"Hey," you halt and look at her, for real this time, with doe-eyes and a slight raise of your brow

"What?" she shoves her hands in her pockets, "what's up with you?"

You purse your lips and adjust the strap of your bag, looking around the room, trying to seem uninterested, but really just trying to avoid opening the floodgates that have been poked at all day

"The same thing that's always wrong with me" you answer dryly, giving a non-committal shrug, trying to seem like you couldn't care less about this conversation. But that's the thing- you do care, and you always have, which is why you and Natalie have always clashed. Two girls who care so deeply, but have no one to share it with, because neither is seen as enough of a concern for anyone to put in the effort.

"Your parents bothering you again?" you scoff, picking at your nails, "i mean, yeah. they always are, that's never gonna change."

Natalie studies you, knowing there's something more to this change in your behavior. What makes her even more curious is why you haven't left yet. You don't normally have conversations like this, it's clear you're in a terrible headspace, and yet... you're still standing here in the bathroom with her, in silence.

"What's really going on with you, though? We haven't argued all week" Natalie jabs somewhat playfully, trying to ease the tension at least a little bit, but it only seems to worsen whatever thoughts are running through your head.

She watches as your chest caves slightly- like you're somewhat choked up on your breathing. You bite your lip and avoid eye contact as you sniffle and move to sit on the bench in the corner of the bathroom. Nat follows carefully, like she's approaching a wounded animal, and leans against the wall adjacent to you.

"Do I actually suck?"

All the breath is knocked out of Natalie's lungs as she stares down at you. You're peering up at her with those pitiful doe eyes, wet and sparkling with fresh tears, and the typical pout she's seen you sport in order to get your way. Never has it been directed at her. Even though you're known for using it on dumb jocks and desperate nerds, it feels different now that you're using it on her. She feels absolutely insane.

"No... no, you don't actually suck." This is the softest she's ever spoken to you. You scoff quietly, then sniffle, wiping at your eyes again

"You're full of shit, Scatorrcio..." you sob. It's so meek and lacks any real fire. And even though it's breaking her heart to see you like this, Natalie can't help but suppress a chuckle at how unfortunately cute you are when you're pitiful.

Natalie exhales slowly through her nose and slides down the wall until she's sitting beside the bench instead of towering over you. Her boots squeak faintly against the tile.

“For what it’s worth,” she says quietly, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, “people who actually suck usually don’t spend this much time worrying that they do.”

You huff out a sort of laugh through your tears, brittle and humorless. “That sounds fake.”

“Yeah, well.” Natalie lets out a deep breath and shrugs. “Most comforting shit does.”

The corner of your mouth twitches despite yourself. She glances sideways at you, expression softer now, stripped of the usual bite she wears around everyone else, around you.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she mutters. “You’re defensive, and mean as fuck, and you act like you don’t need anybody when it’s painfully obvious how much you do.” Another shrug. “But you're not a bad person, and you don't.”

Your eyes drop to your hands as you play with the ring on your middle finger. “You make me sound exhausting.”

“You are exhausting.”

That pulls a real laugh out of you this time, watery and small, and Natalie feels something in her chest pull painfully tight at the sound. You smile sadly as more tears seem to escape on their own now.

“But you’re also…” She hesitates like the words physically hurts to say. “You care too much- about everything, yet somehow nothing at all... You just hide it under all the bitchiness because you think if people actually saw how much you care, they’d use it against you.”

Silence settles between you.

After a while, you wipe your tears with your sleeve and mumble against it, “This is humiliating.”

“Yeah,” Natalie says. “I’m never letting you live it down.”

You groan weakly, the tiniest smile peeking through, and Natalie grins despite herself. Then your voice turns small again.

"I trust you... more than I trust almost anyone, I think." Natalie chuckles at that, lowering her head to hide the annoying blush that she'd aggressively deny if you were to notice and say something about it

"Oh yeah? And why is that- because I'm the only one who calls you on your shit?"

"Kinda... but I think it's more so because you're even able to, like- you know, there's more to me than just what I'm presenting myself as... and as scary as that is, you still keep finding your way back to me in some capacity... so I guess I can't be too bad, right?" you finish softly, turning your head to rest it on your arms that hold your knees to your chest. You look so sweet, with your puffy eyes and tired smile- Natalie feels nauseous at the sight of you.

"Yeah... you're not too bad." she shrugs, her own easy smile returning.

Natalie expects the moment to pass after that. Expects you to roll your eyes, stand up, throw some sharp comment her way to reset the balance between you two. That’s how this usually goes. One of you gets too close to something real, and the other immediately lights it on fire.

But you don’t.

You stay curled up on the bench beside her, cheek squished against your sleeve, looking weirdly peaceful now that the worst of your breakdown has burned through you. It makes Natalie nervous.

“So,” she says after a while, “You done crying on me or what?”

You let out a soft huff. “Maybe.”

“Jesus. Should I let the school paper know?”

That earns another laugh from you- small, but genuine. Natalie feels disgustingly proud of herself for it. The bathroom falls quiet again, though this time it isn’t sharp or uncomfortable. The buzzing fluorescent lights don’t seem quite as unbearable anymore.

You glance sideways at her. “You know… you’re nicer than people think.”

Natalie snorts immediately. “Don’t start spreading that around. I’ve got a reputation.”

“I’m serious.”

Natalie opens her mouth to deny it, then stops. Because you’re looking at her with this horribly fond expression that makes her feel like she’s standing too close to the edge of something.

“Maybe I just don’t like people getting weird about it,” she mutters instead.

You hum softly, considering that. “I don’t think you hate being known as much as you pretend to.”

Natalie’s stomach flips unpleasantly.

“You got all that from one bathroom breakdown?”

“I’m very perceptive when emotionally devastated.” She barks out a laugh before she can stop herself, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” you say quietly, unfolding yourself, allowing your feet to rest on the floor again as you lean your weight onto your palms, “you keep coming back.”

"Yeah... I do."

Things don’t magically become easy after that. You and Natalie don’t suddenly start sitting together at lunch or walking hand-in-hand through the halls like some shitty coming-of-age movie. If anything, the shift between you is so subtle that nobody else would notice it.

Well- they probably do notice something has shifted, now that your teasing and arguments aren't fueled by loathing and mutual distaste, especially because of how your smirks have softened into something lighter. How your digs aren't so personally degrading anymore. How both your smiles remain even as you roll your eyes.

No one says anything, but they definitely notice.

Natalie catches herself looking for you without meaning to. In the mornings as she's just getting to school, in crowded hallways between classes, during lunch when the cafeteria gets too loud and everyone starts sounding the same. Her eyes flick toward wherever you are like it’s instinct now.

And somehow, every single time, you’re already looking at her too. The first few times it happens, you both immediately look away. After that, you stop pretending.

A few days later, Natalie’s actually on time for once as she shows up to history. She's half-listening to the teacher drone on while she taps her pencil against the desk. You’re a row over, chin resting in your palm, visibly exhausted.

Almost like a sixth-sense, you catch her staring.

“What?” you mouth. Natalie shrugs. You narrow your eyes suspiciously before tearing out a page in your notebook and scribbling something on it, sliding the folded piece of paper off your desk in the aisle between you. Natalie slides down in her seat to pull it closer to her with her boot. She picks it up, eyeing the teacher who is still turned in the opposite direction.

Why do you keep looking at me like that?

She snorts quietly and scribbles back without thinking too hard about it.

Like what?

The response comes almost immediately.

Like you know something I don’t.

Natalie stares at the words longer than she should. Then, before she can stop herself, she writes:

Maybe I do.

You read it, and for the first time since she’s known you, you seem genuinely caught off guard. You give her an unimpressed glare, your brow dramatically raised for a moment, before your face softens and you glance back to the front of the room.

Natalie stares, enamored for a few seconds, before snapping herself out of it and looking away, heat crawling up her neck.

After class, she’s stuffing her untouched notebook into her bag when your hand lands briefly on her desk.

“Hey.”

She glances up. “What?”

You hesitate. All of your casual coolness suddenly leaves your body, leaving you weirdly nervous, in a way Nat has never seen.

“Are you going to Jeff’s on Friday?” you ask calmly- trying (and failing, by Natalie's standards) to seem relaxed and naturally curios

Natalie raises an eyebrow. “You inviting me somewhere? That’s new.”

“I’m being serious.”

“That’s even scarier.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it anymore. “Just answer the question.”

Natalie watches you for a second. Your nails tap against her desk, your leg bounces, and you're worrying your bottom lip between your teeth- anticipating her answer. It makes her stomach burn seeing you so antsy and impatient for her response.

“Maybe,” Natalie finally lilts, a tiny teasing smirk making its way upon her lips.

Your shoulders slump dramatically as you groan. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“And yet,” she replies automatically. Your mouth twitches.

“Yeah,” you mumble, unable to hide your smile this time. “Yeah, whatever.”

You turn abruptly, ponytail almost whipping Natalie in the face as you start to walk away. You pause for a moment, without turning around, you quietly add, “I looked for you after practice yesterday.”

Natalie stills. “And?”

You shrug one shoulder, finally glancing back at her. “Jackie said you’d already left.”

Something warm and awful blooms in Natalie’s chest.

“Sorry,” she says before she can think better of it.

The surprise on your face at the apology almost makes her laugh.

“It’s fine,” you say softly, doe-eyed and darling. Then, after a beat, with an almost shy smile, “Just don’t disappear next time.”

Natalie watches you leave the classroom with her pulse thudding strangely hard against her ribs. And for maybe the first time, the idea of someone wanting her around doesn’t feel like a threat- even if that person is you.

Natalie almost turns around when she sees how packed Jeff’s house is. Cars bumper to bumper in the driveway, lining both sides of the street, music already shaking the walls hard enough to feel through the porch steps. Someone nearly spills beer on her before she even gets through the front door.

“Jesus, dude- watch it,” she mutters automatically, shoving past the crowd. The house is humid with body heat and noise, per usual. Natalie grabs a drink from the kitchen counter, mostly so she has something to do with her hands.

Then she spots you- of course, she does.

You’re across the living room with your usual orbit of people gathered around you like moths to a flame. Van's half-draped over the couch between you and Tai, Shauna sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Jackie, and Lottie talking animatedly while you laugh into your cup over whatever she just said.

And there it is again- that strange pull Natalie’s developed over the past week. Because she knows this version of you, or at least she thought she did. Pretty and effortless in a room full of people. Relaxed posture, easy smile, saying exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment to keep everyone hanging onto your attention.

Usually, seeing you like this irritates her- tonight, it just feels… different. Because now Natalie notices the details underneath it too. The way your fingers tighten slightly around your cup whenever the room gets too loud. How your smile drops for half a second whenever nobody’s directly looking at you. How your eyes keep drifting toward the doors like you’re waiting for someone, or maybe you're making sure you still have an exit.

When you finally spot her, your entire expression changes in an instant- in a way that makes Natalie’s pulse stumble embarrassingly hard. Your face softens with obvious relief before you can hide it. It's not anything dramatic, but it's enough for her to notice.

Lottie catches your shift in focus and glances over her shoulder. “Oh, Nat’s here.”

You stand almost immediately. “be right back, losers”

Jackie groans loudly. “Wow. We lose you the second she walks in?”

You flip her off without even looking away from Natalie. “You’ll survive.”

Natalie snorts despite herself as you weave through the crowd toward her. She's already punching herself for thinking how cute you are, trying to act cool and hide your excitement.

“You came,” you say once you reach her, sounding strangely pleased about it.

“Yeah, i come to pretty much anything. Don't get all cocky thinking I only showed up cuz you begged me to” you scoff, an incredulous smile wide across your face as you chuckle

“begged is a total stretch” you cross you arms, and she shrugs licking her lips then pursing them, cutely showing off her dimples

“Oh so you just ask everyone to parties like it’s a proper court summons?”

“Only people whose attendance I care about.” The words hit Natalie square in the chest. You seem to realize what you said a second too late because your expression shifts immediately after- a slight guardedness creeping back in like instinct.

“So,” you recover quickly, lifting your cup and tilting your chin down to take a sip, but keeping your eyes raised to hold Natalie's gaze. “You gonna stand here looking unapproachable all night, or are you actually gonna come socialize?”

Natalie rolls her eyes. “I am socializing.”

“With me- maybe.” You gesture carelessly, and Nat rolls her eyes “Unfortunately.”

You grin at that, bumping your shoulder lightly against hers as someone squeezes past behind you. It’s casual and practically meaningless, but Natalie still feels it everywhere.

Across the room, she catches Shauna watching the two of you with narrowed eyes over the rim of her drink, then Jackie notices too, and their combined lack of response to Lottie's story causes her attention to shift as well, prompting a noise of surprise from her.

“Oh,” Van says slowly to nobody in particular, visibly entertained. “That’s new.”

"I was honestly starting to think she didn't have it in her..." Jackie shakes her head, a proud smirk dances on her lips as she takes a sip from her cup.

Van, Tai, and Lottie all turn to look at Jackie with confused expressions. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jackie giggles tipsily as she just nudges Shauna with her foot, prompting her to explain, "Y/n has been complaining about Natalie for weeks now, and we've been processing her emotions for her in real time..."

"Wait- so you're telling me little miss perfect has had a crush on Natalie fucking Scatorccio this whole time?? The same Natalie that she's been tormenting for fun since freshman year??" Tai inquires skeptically, slightly concerned for the well-being of both her friends.

"Well, I wouldn't say this whole time- and also, she hasn't gotten that far into her self-awareness yet, so y/n probably doesn't even realize she's like- practically in love with Nat" Jackie shrugs, casually sharing your business with your friends like it's no big deal

Shauna nearly chokes on her drink. “Jackie,” she says flatly.

“What?” Jackie laughs, entirely unashamed. “It’s true.”

Lottie’s mouth falls open in genuine delight. “Oh my god.”

Van looks thrilled. “No fucking way.”

“You guys are gonna be next in the line of fire if they find out you're talking about them,” Shauna mutters, though she’s visibly trying not to laugh.

Jackie only grins wider. “Oh please- you should’ve heard her earlier this week-”

“I don’t wanna know,” Tai says immediately.

“No, you do,” Van insists, hopping over the back of the coach to sit directly against Taissa, turning toward Jackie eagerly. “Continue.”

Jackie straightens in her seat dramatically. “Okay, so Y/n comes over to my place after we get done with practice looking like someone just shot her dog-”

“Because she thought Natalie left practice before she could see her, so y/n thought she was avoiding,” Shauna interjects dryly.

“I was not avoiding her,” Natalie says automatically as the two of you finally approach the group. Every head turns. Dead silence.

Your smile drops almost immediately. “What the hell were you guys talking about that has you looking so guilty...”

Van visibly loses it first, ducking her head into Tai’s shoulder while cackling into her drink. Tai looks one second away from joining her, and Jackie beams at you with the kind of expression that should honestly qualify as a threat.

“Oh, nothing,” she says sweetly. You narrow your eyes. “Jackie.”

“What the fuck did I miss?” she asks cautiously, feeling like she’s walking into an ambush.

“Apparently, your own slowburn enemies to lovers storyline” Van snorts as she tries to go back to hiding in Tai's shoulder, who is covering her own mouth to avoid cackling.

“Oh my god,” Lottie whispers, looking between the two of you like she’s witnessing live theater.

“What the hell, Jackie?” you hiss at your best friends, her eyes widening guiltily

“You made it extremely obvious.” “It was not obvious!”

Shauna raises an eyebrow. “You asked us if Natalie hated you sincerely or recreationally.”

Natalie coughs violently into her cup.

Jackie points aggressively. “And then she spent twenty minutes describing Nat’s eyes.”

You make a strangled noise of horror. Tai is now completely losing her composure, shaking her head while trying not to laugh. “This is actually insane. You two have been acting like a divorce gone wrong since ninth grade.”

“Seriously,” Van adds. “I thought you guys were gonna beat the shit out of each other, before I even considered you two kissing!”

Natalie’s face burns hot enough to melt steel, while you look moments away from lying down in the middle of oncoming traffic.

“That is not what this is,” you insist firmly. Nobody says anything, which is somehow worse.

Jackie grimaces slightly before giving you a deeply patronizing look. “Sweetie.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with both hands. “I’m getting another drink.”

Natalie watches in astonishment and the slightest bit of panic as you immediately turn on your heel and start shoving through the crowd toward the kitchen.

“Nice going,” Shauna nudges Jackie, who scoffs in disbelief

“What? She was never gonna figure it out herself.”

“You couldn’t have waited literally one more week?” Jackie shrugs unapologetically before glancing at Natalie, then her expression shifts into something a bit more guilty and weirdly sincere.

“She really likes you, you know.” Natalie stills. The teasing atmosphere dulls around the edges. Jackie swirls the drink in her cup before continuing, quieter this time.

“Like… a lot... and that’s really scary for her.” Natalie looks toward the kitchen instinctively, catching a brief glimpse of you leaning against the counter with your head ducked in obvious embarrassment while pretending to listen to somebody talking to you.

You look extremely overwhelmed- cornered, even- and somehow still painfully soft around the edges in a way Natalie’s never seen before all this.

“She talks about you constantly,” Shauna adds, less teasing now too. “Usually when she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.”

Van snorts. “Usually angry.” “Painfully angry,” Tai agrees.

“But like…” Lottie smiles faintly. “In the way people get when they care too much.”

Natalie doesn’t know what to do with that information. Because part of her still feels stuck back in that driveway a few weeks ago, telling you how much you sucked. Part of her is still stuck on you crying in the bathroom because of how much you actually took those words to heart. And now part of her is feeling weirdly left out of the loop since all your friends seemed to pick up on something she was apparently clueless to.

Jackie gestures toward the kitchen with her cup. “You should probably go save her before she dies of humiliation.”

Natalie groans immediately. “Why me?”

“Because,” Van says, grinning, “you always come running back to her.”

“Eat shit,” Natalie mutters, already turning away anyway. The group breaks into varying levels of drunken laughter behind her as she pushes through the crowded living room toward the kitchen.

Her pulse feels weird- not exactly fast, just… uneven. Because what the hell is she supposed to do with all of that? Apparently, your friends have been watching you spiral over her for weeks. Apparently, everybody picked up on whatever this thing between you is except Natalie herself- and you, somehow. Which feels unfair, honestly, because she’s still trying to figure out whether you even like her half the time or if you’re both just mentally ill in complementary ways.

The kitchen is worse than the living room somehow- sticky countertops, loud music, too many people packed together shoulder-to-shoulder like everyone decided this was the place to escape to.

You’re standing near the sink, gripping a red cup with both hands while some guy talks animatedly beside you, but you’re barely listening- eyes glassy and unfocused in that distinctly tipsy way, knee bouncing anxiously against the cabinet.

And the second you notice Natalie in the doorway, your entire face changes, going through what seems like every emotion possible, in the span of a second. It hits Natalie square in the chest.

“There you are,” she says before really thinking about it. You blink at her a little slowly. “...Hi?”

The guy beside you glances between the two of you awkwardly. “Oh, uh... hey Nat-”

“Hey- I’m stealing her,” Natalie interrupts. You stare at her as she reaches for your wrist before she can overthink it and gently tugs you through the crowd. The guy looks back and forth between the two of you, confused by the interaction as a whole “uh, okay.”

You follow her without resistance- actually, you follow a little too easily... by the time the two of you stumble out onto the front porch, you’re laughing quietly under your breath for some reason.

“What?” Natalie asks, finally letting go of your wrist. You shake your head immediately, cheeks flushed from both alcohol and embarrassment. “Nothing.”

Nat side eyes you, “You’re weird tonight.”

“You’re bossy tonight.” “Tonight?” that pulls another round of giggles from you. God. You are really tipsy.

The cold air hits both of you hard after the heat inside. You lean against the porch railing with a long exhale, shoulders relaxing slightly like you can finally breathe again. Natalie watches you carefully.

Without the constant performance you usually put on around groups of people, you seem… softer somehow. Nervous in a way she’s never really seen from you before.

You avoid looking directly at her for more than a few seconds at a time. Your fingers keep fidgeting with the sleeve of your borrowed jacket, and Natalie suddenly realizes with a strange jolt: You care what she thinks right now.

“Oh my god,” you mumble eventually, covering part of your face with one hand. “I’m actually never speaking to Jackie again.”

Natalie snorts softly. “That bad?”

“She totally spilled my business to everyone!” You whine, the alcohol is definitely catching up to you now

“I mean… apparently you’ve been psychoanalyzing me to our friends.”

You groan miserably, “oh whatever.”

Nat chuckles at your dramatics, then a tension-filled silence falls over you.

“So…” You hesitate anxiously “you think i'm a total freak now?”

The question comes out painfully casual. Natalie studies you for a second- the nervous tapping of your fingers against your cup, the way you keep bracing yourself for rejection before she’s even answered, and suddenly she’s back in that bathroom, hearing you ask if you actually sucked.

“Nah,” she says finally. “Just... confused i guess”

You blink. “Confused?”

“Yeah.” Natalie leans back against the railing beside you. “Because I kinda thought you genuinely hated me for, like… several years., and we just came to some sort of mutual understanding”

“I mean... we were friends before all that though...” Natalie looks at you with a teasing raise of her brow. “Were we?”

You shrug, a little unsteady. “Okay, maybe not like friends friends. More like… you annoyed me less before we started trying to destroy each other.”

“That’s revisionist history.”

“You called me obnoxious in seventh grade.” “You started it.”

You point at her. “You threw a dodgeball at me, unprovoked.”

Natalie opens her mouth, then stops. Because you’re smiling. A soft, little too tipsy, a little too honest smile.

Her expression shifts. “Yeah,” she says after a beat. “Maybe we’ve been doing this wrong for a while.”

You glance at her. “Doing what?”

Natalie gestures between you. “This.”

Your gaze drops, cheeks warming. “Oh.”

And the way you say it- small and unsure- hits her harder than it should. Natalie’s stomach flips unpleasantly because this whole time, she’s been assuming she was the only one off-balance here. The only one overthinking every glance and conversation and accidental touch.

But standing beside you now- watching you avoid eye contact while trying not to smile at nothing- she realizes you’re just as affected by this as she is, maybe even more so.

“You don’t exactly make me feel normal either, ya know...” Natalie admits quietly

Your head snaps toward her. “Really?” The sincerity in your voice almost kills her on impact.

Natalie huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “Jesus... your ego’s gonna be unbearable once you sober up.”

You smile into your cup, then, small and shy, nothing like the polished grin she'd gotten used to over the years

And Natalie suddenly understands why your friends looked at her like she was holding something fragile- because you are, at least a little.

A group of drunk guys bursts out the front door behind you, shoving each other loudly before disappearing toward the yard. You flinch slightly at the noise, and without thinking, Natalie steps a little closer. Your eyes flick toward her immediately, neither of you says anything for a second.

“Wanna get out of here?” you ask, tentatively- hopeful, almost.

Natalie looks at you, really looks at you- at your nervous smile, the way your fingers twist anxiously in your sleeves while you wait for her answer- And for the first time in a long time, saying yes to someone doesn’t feel like giving something up.

"My place or yours?" she's not sure which you'd prefer at this point, so she leaves it up to you

"My parents are gone all weekend..." She knows you're saying it as more of a reassurance for yourself, but she can't help the way her face heats up at the possible insinuations that could come with that statement.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Okay.”

You don’t talk much on the walk back. The air is colder than either of you expected after the heat of the party, and the noise fades quickly behind you until it’s just your footsteps and the occasional distant burst of music from another house down the street. You’re walking slightly too close to Natalie without really seeming to notice- or maybe you do. Your fingers brush once when you adjust your sleeve. Neither of you comments on it.

By the time your house comes into view, your confidence has clearly shifted again- the brisk night air and lack of conversation seeming to sober you up a bit, leaving you more uncertain. You slow at the driveway like you’re suddenly aware of what “coming back here” actually means. Natalie notices immediately.

“You good?” she asks.

You nod too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, just- my parents are gone, like I said, so it’s just… empty- which is a good thing.”

you quickly realize the implications that could have, even though you're sure she knows what you mean, "I mean- it's a good thing for me! I hate when my parents are home-"

Natalie cuts you off with a gentle, amused smile, “Okay,” she says, watching you carefully. You unlock the door, hesitate for half a second, then step inside first.

The house is dark and quiet in a way that feels almost too loud after the party. No music. No voices. Not even the hum to the fridge- just and soft click of the door closing behind Natalie. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath all night.

“Jesus,” you mutter, kicking off your shoes. “Finally.”

Natalie leans against the wall near the entryway, looking around once. “This is... weirdly clean.”

You chuckle, a little bitter, a little nervous, “Well, my mother would probably shoot me if it wasn't.”

Natalie hums, “That explains a lot.”

You shoot her a look, but there’s no real bite in it. You’re too jittery for that now, hands fidgeting again, eyes avoiding hers more than before. You walk through the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and filling them with ice and water. You slide one across the counter that divides the living room from the kitchen, as Natalie approaches.

“So,” you say after chugging more than half the glass, voice softer. “You can go if you want... you don't have to stay here, I just—didn’t want you to like… disappear again or whatever.”

Natalie leans on the counter “I’m not going anywhere.”

That makes you freeze slightly- you laugh a little too quickly. “Okay. Cool. Cool, that’s- yeah.”

You turn toward the fridge like you need something to do with your hands, refilling your glass that wasn't even empty. Natalie's gaze follows you at a slower pace, watching you over the counter.

“You’re acting weird,” she remarked

“I’m not.” “You are.” You take a sip, then set the glass down a little too carefully. “I’m just- this is weird.”

Natalie raises an eyebrow. “Which part?”

You gesture vaguely at her, then at yourself. “All of it.”

A beat, then you let out a breath, shoulders dropping a little. “Like… I’m sober enough now to realize I basically confessed feelings I didn't even know I had in front of my entire friend group tonight.”

Natalie’s mouth twitches, and she shrugs carelessly. “Yeah, that happened.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second. “I’m never showing my face again... like- I don't even know why I invited you back here cuz you're the one I don't even wanna show my face to!”

“I think you’ll survive.”

“Oh, wow,” you say, peeking at her through your fingers. “Amazing emotional support, Nat- top tier.”

Natalie shrugs like she’s not amused, but she is. “I try.”

You drop your hands and point at her. “No, because you don’t understand. Jackie is going to turn this into, like- a community event- there will be like- banners and shit.”

Natalie snorts. “She already has plans.”

“Fantastic,” you mutter, then, quieter but still pointed, “Also, for the record, I don’t appreciate being ambushed by my own friends and my own… whatever this is.”

“You brought me here,” Natalie says.

“I know,” you shoot back immediately, groaning as you crumble dramatically against the counter, resting your head on the granite. “That’s what’s humiliating.”

Your whining earns a real laugh from her. You lift your head, resting your cheek against your arm that is now propped on the counter, exhaling, the tension in your shoulders slowly easing now that you’ve fully committed to being insufferable instead of imploding.

There’s a pause that stretches just a little too long. Natalie’s expression shifts- less teasing, more uncertain, like she’s still figuring out what version of you she’s allowed to talk to now.

“You’re still here,” you mumble quietly, a bit pitifully, with a pout that Natalie is allowing herself to find adorable. “Why?”

Natalie exhales slowly. “Because you asked me not to disappear.”

You stare at her like that answer hits harder than it should. You step around the counter to meet her in the living room side of the combined space, leaving just enough room that the air between you stops feeling safe in the way it did five seconds ago. Your fingers hover near her sleeve like you’re asking permission without words.

“Can I-” you start, then stop, swallowing and dropping your hand. “Is this a bad idea?”

Natalie looks at you properly now. Really looks. Your eyes are wide and a little unfocused, nerves written all over your face, but you’re still here. Still choosing this.

“No,” she says softly. “I don’t think it is.”

That’s all it takes.

You close the distance first, a little clumsy at the start, like you’re still half-convinced you might get rejected mid-motion. But Natalie meets you halfway immediately. The kiss is unsteady at first- warm, slightly messy, shaped by too much by the remnants of alcohol and too many things neither of you has said out loud for years.

Your hand catches lightly at her sleeve like you need something to anchor you.

Natalie’s hand comes up to your jaw, steadier now, thumb brushing once like she’s checking if this is real. When you pull back just slightly, it’s not far and not for long

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" you're practically whispering into her mouth at this point, wasting no time and diving back in, leaving distracting pecks on the corner of Nat's lips as she tries to get her brain to function again

"Yeah..." Natalie finally breathes out as you allow her enough room to move without clashing with you "Yeah, let's go upstairs"

And she's already tugging you toward them, not really knowing her way around, but eager enough to figure it out. Luckily for Natalie, you take the lead once you've reached the second floor.

Your room is pretty much exactly as she'd expected it to be, as you drag her in and close the door behind you- pastel walls with delicate picture frames hung around, decorations and details of little angels scattered about, and a fresh bouquet of flowers on your one bedside table.

Before she can even make a jab at how cute your space is, you're grabbing her by the face and pulling her back in, lips smashing together in a way that knocks the air out of you. Natalie's hands latch onto your hips and pull you closer to her, bumping your lower halves together, briefly.

You hum against her lips, one hand moving from her cheek to tangle in her hair, your other wrapping around her neck to pull her impossibly closer. Her hands release their firm grip on your hips to slide lower, grabbing your ass.

She kneads the fat beneath her palms, using her grip to push you further against her, "mm, Nat..."

You whine into her, lips parting slightly for air, only for Natalie to dip her face into your neck and begin sucking wet bruises into the skin, drawing an even more desperate whine from your throat.

You release her hair to caress down her chest to the hem of her shirt, and give it a needy tug, gripping the fabric so hard it's bound to wrinkle, "please, baby..."

The next few seconds are a blur of colors as Natalie yanks her shirt over her head, followed by yours, and then the rest of your clothes, leaving you both braless in your underwear.

You're gently, but desperately gripping Natalie's face, caressing her cheekbones as she shoves her tongue down your throat. You walk backwards, guiding her toward your bed. Once you feel the back of your legs hit the frame, you let one hand find her bare waist as you maneuver on your bed.

You're both kneeling on the mattress, legs tangled and slotted beneath each other's core, when Natalie starts learning more about you in real time. Her body is on fire as she feels you grind your panty-clad pussy on her thigh, biting your lip. You're impatient and needy, far less put together than you've ever been in her presence. And even though it seems like she's been unraveling you all night, she never expected such a helpless, desperate version of you to be clinging to her right now.

You all but drool into Natalie's collarbone when she begins to grind against you in return, pressing her hot palms to your lower back, encouraging your hips to move in tandem with hers.

"This your first time fucking like this, pretty girl?" Natalie pants, her head slightly tilted back, as she closes her eyes briefly, feeling her abs contract with pleasure. You whimper into her neck, nodding.

"Yeah? How does it feel?" she lets her one hand glide up your spine and settle in your hair at the base of your skull. She tugs slightly, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, followed by a throaty moan. Your hips pick up the pace at her teasing, which causes her to chuckle softly. Nat grips your hip tighter, forcing you to slow back down, pulling an impatient whine from you.

She uses her grip on your hair to tug you into her line of sight, "You gotta use your words..." her voice is velvety and practically foreign to you at this point with how ready you are for her to slut you out.

"Feels so good- please, Nat..." you're giving her those sad, sparkly eyes, lips lined with a pout, and Natalie is enamored by it, knowing that she's about to make you cry for all the right reasons this time.

Natalie slides her fingers below the waistband of your panties, leaving them to rest on the bare skin of your hip, "It'll feel even better if you take these off..."

She's not even sure if she finished her sentence before you're moving to slide your panties down your legs and coming back to tug at the band of her boxers, which she giggles and discards just as quickly.

You shove Natalie back into your soft pillows and swing your leg to straddle her thigh, immediately leaning down to connect your lips again. Natalie shifts her face away slightly, with a smirk, "You sure you'll be alright up there?"

You roll your eyes, sitting up straight. You meet her cocky gaze with a determined glare and roll your hips slowly, focusing to maintain your composure for a moment as you watch Natalie's jaw drop before she bites her lip to suppress a guttural moan. Her reaction spurs your confidence, pushing you to carry on.

Much to your dismay, you last about two minutes on top. You go from head held high, posture straight and maintained, evenly slotting your hips against Natalie's, to gripping her propped leg like it was keeping you upright, head lowered and bobbing with every thrust, humping her like a desperate puppy.

"Wow, you really are impatient," Nat teases, low and seductive as she relaxes, enjoying how you're practically doing all the work right now.

You move, your one hand resting on Natalie's lower stomach, the other caressing her thigh (the one you were previously holding onto for dear life) as you can't help but lean your weight onto her. Your hips rock back and forth, in rhythm with hers, your slick combining and adding to the pleasure of your clits bumping together. She's gripping anywhere she can- your thighs, hips, ass- her hands are everywhere, and they're surely leaving red marks.

"Fuck, Nat" you shakily mumble, trying to keep your head held high as she thrusts up from beneath you.

"Yeah? Feels good, princess?" You can only whine out an affirmation as you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, nodding in time with your synchronized motion. She's smirking up at you, hungry fire burning in her eyes and lower belly. She lets her hands travel from their kneading grip on your ass, up to softly caress your hips and sides- the light touch, a contradiction from the assertive thrusts, sending chills through your body.

Natalie grazes her finger up your spine and pulls you down toward her. Your chests press together as Natalie uses her grip on the back of your neck to guide your lips together. You whine into her mouth as she sucks on your bottom lip.

You slide one hand up her side to sit on her ribs, right underneath her breast. Your feathery light touch shifts once more to squeeze her tit, kneading it as she moans into your mouth. Natalie moves to press on your lower back, encouraging you to speed up your movements to match hers, right as you tweak her nipple, causing both of you to let out matching cries of pleasure.

You're panting against each other's tongues more than kissing at this point, letting it get messier as saliva drips and slick spreads between both of you. Your rhythm is faltering, neither of you caring that you can't keep a tempo anymore as you frantically chase your high.

"Uh uh uh-" you moan breathily in time with your movements, each noise rising in pitch as you reach your climax, slowing briefly as your head falls into the crevice of Natalie's shoulder. You continue to thrust lazily against her as she follows right after, letting her legs close in around your thigh as she rides out her orgasm.

You're not sure if it's the exhaustion of the day as a whole, or the release of all that pent-up tension between the two of you, but neither of you moves after that, immediately falling asleep, still tangled in each other.

When Natalie wakes up, the bed is empty. She groans and rolls over to lie on the side you'd slept on, burying her face in your pillow and inhaling your scent. After a few minutes, she gets up and goes to get dressed, only to notice her shirt and boxers are missing. Instead, she's left with what seems to be an intentionally placed pair of your sweatpants and an oversized Metallica t-shirt.

After getting dressed, she cautiously makes her way downstairs, afraid your parents might've come home earlier than expected. The sight she's met with has her taking the deepest breaths possible.

You're setting up cups and laying out breakfast in the kitchen, hair pulled up in a claw clip, wearing nothing but her shirt and boxers that she'd thrown on your floor the night before.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to enjoy playing housewife," Natalie startles you with her sarcasm, almost making you drop the bowl of fruit you just finished cutting up. Your shock wears off quickly, wide eyes relaxing and rolling as you continue about, trying to avoid her seeing the blush that has taken over your face.

“You say that like you’re not enjoying the view,” you mumble, stubbornly focused on arranging strawberries onto a plate. Natalie lets out a quiet laugh through her nose, leaning against the doorway as she watches you move around the kitchen like you belong there, and she belongs there with you. Like this is normal, and it's okay for the two of you to be so domestic- you're allowed to have it easy and enjoy this.

“You stole my clothes,” she points out instead.

“Pretty sure you stole mine first.” You quirk a brow at her, shifting around the kitchen with ease as you set down two full plates on the peninsula.

“That... was different.”

“Oh? How?”

Nat opens her mouth, then shuts it again when you finally glance up at her over your shoulder, eyebrows raised innocently. The oversized band tee hangs off one shoulder, your sweatpants loose around her hips, and suddenly she looks far too comfortable in your things for her own good.

She's left speechless while you check her out, not realizing she's doing the same to you.

You bite back a smile and turn toward her fully, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “And god forbid a girl wants to see her girlfriend wearing her clothes,”

The silence that follows is immediate and dangerous. Natalie is frozen, jaw slack as she desperately tries to form a verbal reaction.

She sputters briefly, amused and nervous, "Girlfriend? That's a big jump in dynamic- when was that decided?" she's got a gentle, still teasing, grin on her lips as she leans on the counter across from you.

Your face heats up, nerves starting to peek through again, but you straighten and turn away before you lose your confidence entirely, "Just now, I decided it myself."

This pulls a bright laugh from Natalie, who's just glad to know you still have it in you to boss her around and be a brat. Her reaction makes your heart flutter and race at the same time, finding her adorable, but also still anxious about the potential rejection.

"I think that's usually a two-person decision" she bites her lip to contain the growing smile. You hum thoughtfully, pretending to consider it while you slide a plate toward her across the counter.

“Hm, maybe,” you concede, unable to stop the tiny grin tugging at your lips. “But you’re in my clothes, in my kitchen, eating the breakfast I made you after sleeping in my bed.” Your eyes flick up to meet hers, teasing, warm, and a little shy. You shrug, “Feels pretty mutual to me.”

Natalie huffs out another laugh, shaking her head as she pushes herself off the counter to walk closer. “You are unbelievable.”

“And yet,” you say softly, “you’re still here.”

That gets her to pause.

The teasing expression on her face loosens around the edges, replaced by something softer. She looks at you for a second too long before reaching over and stealing a strawberry from the plate beside you.

“I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing yet,” she murmurs before taking a bite. You narrow your eyes playfully.

“Careful. Girlfriends don’t usually insult each other this early in the morning.”

“Oh, so now there are rules?”

“There are plenty of rules,” you reply immediately, a dramatized seriousness taking over you. “You’ll get a handbook later.”

Natalie laughs again, brighter this time, and something in your chest finally settles when you realize she still hasn’t corrected you. Hasn’t pulled away from the word. Instead, she drifts around the island until she’s standing beside your stool, hip bumping lightly against your knee.

“Guess I should start taking this relationship seriously then,” she says casually, though the pink creeping across her cheeks betrays her.

You're perched on one of the stools at the island in the kitchen, your elbow resting on the table with your chin propped in your palm. A small, harmless smirk paints your lips as your eyes shimmer. Nat scoffs as she feels her face heat up

“You’re so annoying,” Natalie mutters, grabbing another strawberry before you can stop her.

“Wha- what'd I do?” you giggle in astonishment

“You're staring with such a dumb look on your face” the jab is harmless, as it's delivered with a blush and smile.

“Oh, I'm sorry that I find the Natalie Sactorccio cute." She tries to roll her eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it anymore. Not when she’s standing in your kitchen, enjoying the breakfast you prepared for her.

The kitchen falls quiet again, softer this time. Morning light spills through the windows, catching the loose strands that escaped your claw clip. Natalie notices all of it at once- your sleepy eyes, the oversized shirt hanging off your shoulder, the way you keep looking at her like you still can’t believe she’s here.

Your confidence finally cracks first.

“So…” you mumble, fiddling with the hem of your (her) sleeve. “Was that actually weird? The girlfriend thing?”

Nat’s expression melts almost immediately. “No,” she says gently. “Just caught me off guard.”

Your eyes flick up to hers cautiously. “In a bad way?”

Instead of answering right away, Natalie steps closer until she's standing between your legs, your knees slightly pressing against her hips. Her fingers hook loosely around the hem of her shirt you stole.

“You really just decided for both of us, huh?” You cringe a little. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid and obsessive.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head. “It sounded…” Her thumb brushes your hand without thinking. “Nice.”

The breath leaves your lungs all at once.

“Oh.” “Yeah, oh.”

Now you’re the flustered one. Your face warms as you duck your head with a shy smile, and Natalie swears it’s the prettiest thing she’s seen all morning- which is saying a lot at this point.

“C’mere,” she murmurs.

You barely have time to look up before she’s leaning down, kissing you soft and slow. It’s different from last night- no tension, no uncertainty, no reckless heat behind it- just warmth. Familiar already somehow. When she pulls away, your eyes stay closed for half a second longer than necessary.

“That means I get the position officially?” you ask quietly. Natalie snorts, resting her forehead against yours. “God, you’re such a loser- much more of a loser than you let on to be.”

“But I can be your loser, right?” your pout is more playful and familiar, the one you use on unsuspecting guys to get them to abide by your every wish. The one that will now be reserved for convincing Natalie to do whatever you want.