Chapter Text
september ‘95
Linen bunches beneath their combined weight, Jackie wonders if the wrinkles will imprint beneath her clothes. If the pattern of the mattress will indent the length of her back and Jeff’s knees, on the palm of his hand. He shifts closer. First his fingers, palm, and wrist dip between the elastic of her underwear. Jackie resists shirking backwards, further into his mattress, instead propelling forward to kiss him. The kiss is warm. Jeff hums into her mouth, lazily tonguing her as he snakes his fingers further down. “Don’t worry I got you,” he smiles, a look of awe crinkling his brow.
Jackie feels her mouth twitch in response.
She can only look into his eyes for so long. They’re imploring, concentrating on coaching her into relaxation, waiting for a response– Jackie alternates between staring into Jeff’s eyes and closing her own. She’s hardly used to her own fingers worming their way inside her. It’s not really pleasure that makes her eyes clench shut but if she can find a way to relax and enjoy herself, maybe meeting Jeff’s eyes while his hands are down her pants wouldn’t be so hard. Jackie takes deep breaths, letting out small moans on occasion. This is supposed to feel good, she reminds herself.
Her body dances beneath his touch, a twitch here or there– while Jeff is careful enough not to let his body weight rest on her, she feels his arm tremble next to her head. Jeff grunts, inhales and exhales, practically exuding desire and expectation. They’re not even kissing anymore. Her eyes are shut more often than not but Jackie knows he’s watching her, studying her face. His fingering doesn’t hurt but there’s just nothing igniting. Jackie tries, “Hey, Jeff? Can we kiss while you do that?”
“Yeah sure,” he obliges.
It’s a good thing he never expected her to get wet like in the pornos. A little spit goes a long way, or at least somewhere near her navel, smeared in her pubic hair, or happenstance glance over her clit. Not much really ends up lubing her up, but at least Jeff’s realistic. Jackie likes kissing. It’s intimate and she’d rather they’d kiss than do this. At least when they’re doing both she can set the pace. As usual Jeff tries to set a ravenous pace, both activities in sync, but Jackie curls her fingers into his hair, aiming for something slower. A good kiss makes her toes curl. Plus, it makes her wet enough that the next part is more convincing.
Moaning is an art. Especially when with other people. She makes sure to scatter stolen whimpers throughout, increases the pitch as she leads the kissing, and incrementally bucks into Jeff’s fingers. The selling point; be shy, timid when the embarrassing noises are “ripped” out, break the kissing for a moment– was that me?
“Jackie–” he presses into her more, because he wants more. And Jackie will give it to him. Jackie likes kissing and Jeff likes what’s after making her cum.
The yellowbook doesn’t have the Palmer's residence listed. It’s probably a testament to her stubbornness that she has the number memorized. You can only show up to someone’s house unannounced so many times. The plastic of the telephone is hot against Jackie’s ear, the phone booth traps the lingering summer heat, pulsing around her like a heartbeat; constant. Maybe she should just go home, if no one picks–
“Hello?”
“Hey. Are you busy?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, “Can I come over?”
The other line is silent for a moment, probably mulling over the pros and cons of visiting in this type of weather. “Sure, I got nothing better to do.”
“Great, I'll see you in thirty.”
Van Palmer is god sent. A blustery angel, joint tucked into the brim of her cap, ginger hair askew. That’s her working theory anyway. Logically Jackie knows her trailer is nearly as hot as it is outside, but she has a few fans clicking in the background, and a bathroom to freshen up in.
Today, Van cracks her door open wide enough to reveal her figure. “Look, Natalie and I were hanging out before you called so…” she nudges the door ajar, “the more the merrier.” – “Taylor,” the bottle blond greets, tongue hovering over an edge of a joint, not bothering to make eye contact.
After walking half an hour to get here, Jackie isn’t letting Natalie’s presence throw a wrench in her plans. Sure, she wasn’t expecting her to be here– Van isn’t picky with who she smokes with, if either girl's presence is an indication of this. After today though, Jackie just really wanted to get high and watch a movie with Van. That’s their thing, if smoking pot twice a month with an acquaintance constitutes a “thing.” Practice for senior year hasn’t started yet, so she really couldn’t say if the illicit habit has brought them closer together, strengthened their intuition for one another on the field. She’d like to think so. Even if they only really are alone when smoke wafts in the air between them, Jackie could pick Van’s laughter out of a crowd. Knows that she prefers Coke when eating fast food and Pepsi as a beverage. Jackie can’t really tell the difference, but when they go on walks and smoke, she makes sure to bring Pepsi.
If Natalie’s here, they won’t be watching a movie. When Natalie smokes with them, Van and Natalie talk . Which is fine. Just… not what she wanted this afternoon.
Gently shutting the door behind her, Jackie takes her place next to the other two. Haphazardly resting on the floor, leaning against the couch, Natalie lights the joint she was working on. Van passes her a lighter, Jackie sits across from the girls, using the rickety coffee table as back support.
The thing is, Van usually never mentions how often Jackie coughs. The rattling, water-hardly-soothes the burn kind. Probably it’s a little pathetic that she sits out a good portion of the joint. Van usually shrugs it off. “More for me.” and only cajoles Jackie when the mood strikes her but never with malice. When Natalie or other people are around, Jackie’s weakness is a lot harder to shrug off. Waving off the joint is a more serious offense, fucks up the group’s rythm. Her throat stinging and huff is met with cool stares. Sure, no one really says anything. But Jackie knows she should probably be better at this, should inhale and exhale with ease. No one has to tell her, Jackie knows her shortcomings. The three begin to work their way through the joint.
That’s why it’s easier to just listen to Van and Natalie talking. What could she say that Natalie doesn’t already have the measure of? Besides the few hours these past few months, Jackie hardly has memories to reminisce with Van. In comparison to Natalie and Van’s friendship, she doesn’t have a lot to commemorate with either of them. She’s not their bestfriend. She’s not really sure how to put that into words or how to feel about it, because Jackie does have a best friend– Shauna; and maybe she should be smoking with her.
It’s just that Jackie has the sneaking suspicion that if she got high with Shauna everything would flow out of her like a rancid gut wound. Guess what me and Jeff did, and I spend more time thinking about his bedsheets than the outline of his dick. Jackie doesn’t want to imagine the look on Shauna’s face when Jackie admits I’m more turned on by my moans than him fingering my pussy. What is Shauna supposed to do with that? Hell, what is anyone supposed to do with that? At least when Jackie smokes with Van, she doesn’t feel like it would be spilling her guts. If she told Van I fake orgasms when I’m with Jeff, she wouldn’t look disappointed, like Jackie is a failed feminist. She’d probably fling her arm around Jackie’s shoulders in mock disgust, here’s looking to jerking off kid. What would Natalie think? That she’s not doing it right, that condescending bite of course Jackie can’t cum –
“You suck dick,” it’s rhetorical. Natalie has already gone into vivid detail, Jackie can’t quite keep the appalled tone out.
Natalie pauses her inhale, joint protruding between her lips. Her glare is almost a physical weight. “What are you ten?” Irritation coloring her voice. “I just return the favor– no one is going to give me head if I don’t reciprocate.” Natalie’s nails have chipped black polish, catching Jackie’s eye as she gestures with her hands. Jackie preemptively recoils.
“What am I saying? Look who I’m talking to, you wouldn’t know reciprocation if it busted you in the ass.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Natalie takes another drag, the white smoke seeming to mock Jackie’s question. “Seriously?”
The blonde makes a motion to pass the joint to Jackie, she doesn’t wave Natalie off, instead clumsyly bumping Natalie’s fingers as she grabs the joint. Manages not to fumble the thing, last session she dropped a joint, Natalie and Van rode her ass about it. Jackie quickly inhales. Figures that she’ll need it. The weed stings, harsh and scratchy in her throat. Exhales, eyes burning. She watches Natalie.
Van plucks the joint from her fingers chiding, “It’s puff puff pass, Jackie.”
“I want to hear what Natalie has to say.”
Okay maybe it came out more confrontational than it needed to, Jackie can recognize how leery she sounds. She was the one who couldn’t keep her mouth shut, all Natalie was doing was talk about her sex life. Touching Jeff is like just another task on the All American checklist ‘Good Girlfriend’ (doesn’t put out). While Jackie draws the line at touching under the clothes, Natalie can’t keep her hands off boys. She doesn’t know which is worse. That she isn’t really… interested in fucking Jeff– or that girls who do want sex are supposed to pretend they don’t or at least be discreet about liking it, neither of which Natalie abides. As if reading her mind, “Dude, you use Shauna like a chauffeur. When’s the last time you’ve driven her around? Do you even pay for gas– I’m surprised you even put anything down to smoke.”
Jackie digs her thumbnail in the web between her thumb and index finger. The pain warps past the gauzy high, the rapid fire assessments don’t sting any less. Of course Natalie has to bring up Shauna.
It takes eons to respond. “I can’t drive… Shauna knows that,” everyone knows that . “And she’s never asked for gas money. She knows I’m good for it though.”
“So that makes it okay?” Natalie exchanges a look with Van, but Jackie can’t tell if Van agrees or is simply passing the joint back to Natalie.
At this point the thing is on the last dregs, more a smoking butt than anything else. When it gets like this, it feels like breathing in fire.
“I–”
Jackie takes a breath.
“C’mon Nat, you’re ruining my high. Shauna doesn’t care about driving Jackie around,” Van leans back, arms pillowing her neck and head. Despite her claim, she languishes. Not much bothers Van when they smoke. “Besides Jackie gets us the good stuff,” Van rubs her thumb and index finger together, clearly indicating cash. “She’s a quick learner, I never have to remind her.” Before Jackie can send her an appreciative look, the roach is shoved into her hand. Controlled wisps linger around the displeased set of Natalie’s mouth.
“Yeah how long did that take you? Y’know we didn’t have to tell Lottie to split the cost for weed.”
Jackie’s cheeks burn, she tries hard not to touch Natalie’s fingers during the exchange. Comparing her to Lottie wasn’t a difficult thing to do. When Jackie bought alcohol– or funded someone older to do it, she always fronted the bill. A 24 pack of beer wasn’t going to break her family’s bank. When she first started smoking with Van, she didn’t think that it was a big deal, that it mostly came out of the other’s pocket. Jackie did it all the time, post game celebrations and all, since sophomore year– she hadn’t thought– and that was the trouble. Jackie wasn’t thinking. Natalie was sure to point out things like that, her lack of consideration for others. She wasn’t being stingy on purpose. As soon as Van let her know after the first couple of times she smoked for free– she’d been paying for their stash to make up for it. Jackie inhales gingerly, passing it to Van before exhaling. “Whatever…”
“Yeah ‘whatever’ Jackie,” Natalie mimics Jackie’s sullen tone. “Stop acting like such a prude. I suck dick so what? I don’t see you shying away from indirect dicksucking.”
Jackie bristles at the wrap around, how neatly Natalie refocuses the topic of contempt. At the same time, Van chokes on smoke, laughing. “Fuck– indirect dicksucking, god do not imply that. I’m smoking too.” She comically gazes at the filter, pulling a face before playfully handing it off to Natalie.
Jackie tries not to squirm. It’s just Natalie. She’s being a dick. Okay, so Jackie is grossed out by the thought of sucking Jeff’s dick, that doesn’t mean that she’d recoil from every dick in the world. Right now Jackie prefers not to see his dick, even when Jeff insists that he’s okay with being naked around her. He swears up and down that he trusts her, makes sure his parents won’t be home, he won’t take long– she manages to keep things PG. Over the clothes might be taking things too slow, and Jackie is willing to compromise, messing around under the clothes, but she is firmly drawing the line at nudity. She’ll gladly walk home or call a taxi before that. It’s hard to imagine anyone enjoying the act– but this is Natalie. And if she said she likes it, and was clearly doing it– okay. That’s her prerogative, her image, her business– not something that Jackie wants to think about. After messing around with Jeff she doesn’t want to hear about how Natalie knows something inherent about herself that Jackie can hardly phantom within herself.
“We can’t all be dick gobblers.”
She reaches over to snatch the joint from Natalie’s mouth, throat already aching. Jackie’s fingers overshoot their target, brushes against the bow of her upper lip and the plush curve of the bottom. Beneath her fingers Natalie’s lips twitch involuntarily, though she’s still otherwise. Something rough and soft catches at the pads of Jackie’s fingers. Distantly, she’s aware she should back away. It’s just, for a moment she can’t bring herself to grasp the roach. Natalie stares down her nose, blue eyes framed by thick lashes. Her brow furrows, and finally directs her gaze at Jackie’s offending digits, lips parting–
the joint falls, glancing across Jackie’s fingers. She jerks her hand back with a hiss, swearing. She hears Van’s familiar laughter. Cradling her hand, Jackie looks at Van who says, “You idiot, someone’s cheating!” Natalie ashes the wayward roach.
Mortification creeps down Jackie’s neck, her face must look like a split pumpkin, her stomach is a twisted towel in a locker room about to strike calves, thighs, buttocks, backs– and Natalie slowly reaches for Jackie’s hand. “Lemme see,” her voice is gruff, partly from smoking and partly from the rapid tonal shift. Their arguments usually last longer…but Natalie never likes to see anyone hurt. Even her.
Gently uncurls Jackie’s fist. “S’not so bad.” There is a dull ache. How embarrassing.
“Awe, don’t worry about it Jackie,” Van consoles, finally noticing Jackie’s discomfort. “No one’s counting how many times you drop it.”
“Yeah,” Natalie squeezes her hand before letting go. “Don’t worry about it.”
For the record, Jackie isn’t worried about it. She isn’t. When Natalie and Van light a new joint, pointedly stating, “The cap’n has had enough,” she doesn’t object. She excuses herself to the bathroom as the two begin their smoking trick competition. The bathroom door has to be shoved shut, the wood bloated to the point of frustration. Van’s countertop has magazines, hair ties, and oral care splayed across the surface. Nudging them away, she grasps the edge of the counter. The artifice is too rounded to kick back any bite. Looking into the mirror Jackie tries to focus.
Her cheeks are flushed. Jackie’s eyes begin to water. God she’s high, she’s high and– turning on the faucet, she begins to rigorously wash her hands for the second time today. That’s her problem; she’s more moved by Natalie’s chapped lips than the warm length of her boyfriend’s body pressing her into a mattress.
That’s what she’s worried about.