Sawyer let out a content sigh as she collapsed onto Jagger’s body, feeling the last few moments of her orgasm pulse through her. As of late, this wasn’t an unusual occurrence for her -- she’d found a strange comfort in these fleeting moments of post-sex bliss with Jagger and more often than not, she found herself almost craving the security that they bought. Sawyer stayed silent for a moment, her head buried in the crook of Jagger’s neck as she felt his chest rise and fall. 

However, it never took her long to snap out of her delusions. She knew that sleeping with Jagger was nothing but an outlet for the two of them, a way to blow off some steam and forget about their shitty little lives. Without a word, Sawyer pushed herself off Jagger and stood up next to his bed. She rummaged around on the floor, grabbing one of his tee shirts and pulling it over her head. Sawyer hated that she had let someone have this effect of her, feeling uncertain about her decisions was not something she enjoyed at all. Sitting at the edge of Jagger’s bed, she eyed off the rolled joint on his bedside. “May I?” she asked and without waiting for response, grabbed it between her fingers and lit it. Sawyer took a long drag, letting the sweet smell fill her nostrils. Maybe it was an automatic response but Sawyer felt immediately relaxed. She let out a sigh as the smoke billowed around her head.

“Do you want...?” she trailed off, turning to face him and extending the joint out to the blonde.

SAWYER:

What the hell was she doing? She’d spent years telling herself that she’d never sleep with Jagger -- sure, they’d joke about it & once or twice, there’d been a few drunken close calls but ultimately, they were friends. However when Jagger challenged her to find out what sleeping with him would be like, she wasn’t surprised to find herself at his front door, rolling her phone in her hands. Making dumb, impulsive decisions was one of her strong points and that instinct wasn’t going let her down now. Sawyer didn’t even bother knocking when she got to Jagger’s door, she wasn’t surprised to find it not locked. “Jagger!” she yelled out, waiting to see his mop of blond hair appear from somewhere. “Fucking...” she trailed off, strutting over to Jagger’s liquor cabinet, grabbing a glass and pouring herself an overly large glass of whiskey. “I’m drinking your whiskey!” she yelled, hoping he’d appear soon enough.