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Alcohol, Nicole thinks, is a baby drug.
Not quite as bad as weed, obvi, because weed is for the most insanely annoying people in the universe and men that talk like the old rat guy in Ninja Turtles. Booze is for people with social anxiety, mommy issues, and depression.
(Nevermind that she raids Mom's wine cabinet whenever the Hag is out trying to score another alimony check. That's the kind of stuff it's for. For when you need to get fucked up and don't want to remember. That's coping with life, though, not "having fun" at a fucking house party. It's different.)
Point being, while they're not the worst, most drunks are absolutely unbearable. Like people in general, really, just worse.
Naturally, Nicole thinking this means that Jecka is making it her life's mission to drag Nicole to every stupid house party Kelly hosts. Because “sitting alone in your room is really bad for you when your brain is fried. I got us invitations and everything, can't you just act happy for once, Nicole?”.
She should just come the fuck over, then. Then Nicole wouldn’t be alone, and she’d have Jecka to herself, no slobbering guys anywhere in sight.
Jecka herself, much to Nicole's annoyance, is an astoundingly affectionate drunk. She'd know, she gets subjected to it more than anyone. As much as it's fair to say that you're ever "subjected" to Jecka, that is.
She’s never been that surprised by it, all things considered, because Jecka is touchy-feely in general. She kisses her preppy-ass friends on their cheeks all the time, she constantly grabs whoever she's talking to to emphasise whatever she's saying, and she always wants to hug Nicole specifically.
If it was anyone else, she wouldn't agree to that shit. Being touched makes her feel ill more times than not. People are up her ass enough as it is, she doesn't need them to be in reach to literally be up her ass. It makes her feel ill to just be near them.
Jecka is different, though. She isn't some greasy guy that doesn't see the difference between her and a sock, or some desperate bitch that just wants someone to pay attention to her because mommy dearest didn't give her enough hugs as a baby. She's Jecka. When it's her it's bearable.
Nice, even.
The problem is that she is especially affectionate to Nicole, publicly and unashamedly enough that people apparently know that, because that bitch Megan just walked up to her, Jecka in tow, and dropped her off in Nicole's lap before fucking off to do whatever it is church bitches do at high school house parties.
She wasn't really doing anything other than avoiding all the guys at the party anyway, but still. Who the fuck does Megan think she is? Nicole didn't even want to be here in the first place, since when does being class president mean she gets to appoint people buddies like they're at an AA meeting?
She doesn't get any more thinking than that done before Jecka twists in her lap, giggling and cooing as she wraps her arms around Nicole's waist to practically rub her cheek against Nicole's body.
"Nicoooleeee" she whines into Nicole's stomach, and the warmth of her breath makes her skin tingly even through her shirt. "Can you believe those college guys were even bigger losers than the guys at school?"
Right. The reason she'd wanted to drag Nicole here in the first place. Because she still gives guys she hasn't seen being disgusting a chance, for whatever reason.
"Jecka. They are college aged men hanging around high school girls. Of course they're total fucking losers. The only reason they're here and not at, like, a preschool is because they're banned from going near one."
That makes Jecka giggle again, and then turn to look up at Nicole drowsily.
"Nicole, you say that about all guys."
She does. Because it's fucking accurate. There'd be no need for an age of consent if guys wouldn't go lower.
That's not an argument she's going to have with Jecka right now, though. Even if she could convince Jecka that she's right about it, and she is right, it'd mean arguing. That would mean Jecka moving away to get enough space to argue. It wouldn't be worth the lack of contact.
Fucking listen to that. Is that what she is? A bitch that lingers around like some guy touching ass for the first time, doing whatever he can to make it last longer? Is she really that much of a desperate ho now?
Far more importantly, Jecka looks happy. She always looks happy when she's drunk, of course, because she's a fairytale princess drunk, but now she's happy while hugging Nicole and that makes Nicole feel less miserable. She's going to savor that. She's not a bitch that feels happy, like, ever, so if Jecka can almost get here there she won't say anything to fuck that up.
(She knows what that means. She may not be of a particularly sunny disposition or whatever the fuck Mom would say whenever she brings the next source of alimony checks home and they catch her sneering in disgust, but she can tell what this weird, stupid fluttery feeling in her stomach is even if it's the first time she's felt it. She's not stupid, regardless of what Mom thinks.)
So here she is. The hottest babysitter in all of school, only she's not babysitting some insufferable brat, she's making sure the hottest girl in school isn't dragged off to get murdered in some backyard by a guy that everyone really should've recognised as a serial killer by looks alone.
Wonderful.
Jecka shifts in her lap again, humming as she squirms to get comfortable. She sighs to herself. Not only is she pathetic, she's also been reduced to a makeshift bed. In public. In front of all the dumbest and most desperate guys in school.
The worst part is that she can't even say that she doesn't like it.
Wonderful.
As much as she'd like to sit here forever, though, that's not an option. She can see several of the guys starting to stare in their direction, and a pair of them have already started circling the couch like sharks smelling blood.
No thanks. She may be partial to dying, expeditiously even, but not today and definitely not here.
"If you want to sleep we should go find you an actual bed, Jecka. I'm probably too skinny to be comfortable for long."
Jecka giggles and clings some more, and fuck Nicole wishes she were somewhere that wasn't full of people too dangerous to get wasted around. This is the kind of shit she can’t handle sober.
"You just want to get me to get out of my clothes, Nicole. You should just say that. I would for you."
Fuck. Her mind keeps repeating that like some whiny bitch, but what the fuck else can she do?
"I'm not fucking Kylar, Jecka. You're drunker than Cooter fucking Brown and I'm not into that shit."
Jecka's face scrunches up in confusion. Nicole can't help herself from staring at the childish pout on her lips. She needs to get a grip. Quickly.
"Who the fuck is Cooter Brown?"
"I dunno', some drunk guy that one of Mom's alimonies talked about all the time. How am I supposed to know who some guy is? Have I ever given a fuck about who any guy is?"
Jecka huffs and twists, but then she settles and flops back down into Nicole's lap. "M'not that drunk. . . " She tries to sit up, clearly struggling to stay upright, and finally flops down again in defeat. "Maybe a little drunk. . . "
This is the kind of dumb shit Nicole would never tolerate from anyone else. Not the fucking 13-year-old-got-into-Mom's-wine-locker bullshit, not being used as a fucking body pillow, and definitely not babysitting that shit.
When it's Jecka, she just huffs and gently guides her upright.
"Yeah, sure. Let's go find you that bed, okay?"
Jecka giggles again, and if she was a theatre bitch like Megan she'd call it "chiming like bells" or some dumb shit.
(As it is, it just makes Nicole's stomach do stupid little kiddie's first crush story book style flips. She's pretty sure that's even more embarrassing than people seeing her being used as a plushie like this, but at least nobody knows about that.)
Naturally, hoping that they'd be left alone on the way was wishful thinking. The guys are easy enough to avoid, because they'll look like total assholes if they accost her now, but Nicole doesn't know shit about this place so she has to ask Kelly where the beds are and Kelly hasn't minded her fucking business a single time since junior year.
Basically as soon as the words "Where are the beds, Kelly" has left her mouth, the bitch is practically tripping over herself cooing.
"I'd usually tell you to leave room for God and Jesus, Nicole, but you've been pining for so long I'm sure they'll make an exception for you two." is probably the most terrifying words that's ever been spoken, at least in that moment, because what the fuck does that mean and why the fuck has Kelly noticed whatever it is?
(Is she really that transparent? Mom has told her she looks a lot happier when Jecka is around, but she's always assumed the bitch just says that to get her out of the house or to be able to threaten her about not being allowed to see her. Fuck.)
She doesn't run because how the fuck could she with Jecka hanging off of her like a koala, but she definitely doesn't make any effort to hang around.
God damn it.
"If a guys sees us and tries to talk us into a threesome I'm going to kill myself, I hope you know that."
Jecka fucking giggles at her. Again. As if it was a joke.
"You said that about coming here too, Nicole, and you're still alive."
She has to actually restrain herself before she starts saying something dumb like "when you're around I feel like living's kind of worth it." or something else equally stupid and corny. Apparently she doesn't even need to, because Jecka stretches and edges closer until their noses are almost touching, and Nicole feels like she's about to die when the warm jet of air from Jecka's breath hits her face.
(Her breath is minty. The smell lingers in Nicole's nostrils even when Jecka pulls back and breathes in to speak.)
"I'd be sad if you weren't here. Really sad. You're really cool and pretty and my friend. You like me too much to do that to me, right?"
Yes, she wants to scream. Yes she does. That'd probably make things really weird, though, and if she's ever going to do that it won't be when Jecka's too wasted to remember it. Even just acknowledging to herself that Jecka was cool and it'd be really cool to hang out with her to herself in those first few days here had made her feel like she was about to drop dead.
She settles for a "Yeah, sure." and pointedly moves on.
The trek to the room Kelly points them to is another exercise in misery. Of course it is. They're no longer in public, so the guys no longer look like dicks for accosting the girl carrying her absolutely wasted friend. She didn't sign up for growling at people that should've stopped putting gel into their hair three harassment charges ago like some cartoon dog just to get them off their backs.
(She's so fucking glad the door has a lock. Someone would get arrested for murder if it didn't, and she isn't sure if she cares who.)
"This is why alcohol sucks, Jecka. Not only is it all the bad parts about getting fucked up with none of the benefits, all the guys start thinking you're easy."
Like some fairy tale princess, Jecka practically floats down onto the bed when Nicole leans over to drop her, even though she would barely be able to stand upright. If it wasn’t stupid, Nicole would imagine sparkles and rose petals in the air. How the fuck does she do that?
"Yeah." Jecka begins, and her voice is airy enough and her eyes fluttering just right to make Nicole focus in on her face. "But when you get wasted you just get really sad and cry a bunch. I wouldn't wanna' get drunk like that either, Nicole."
Nicole can't even argue. Alcohol and the kind of unholy concoction of issues an abusive ass Mom, your Dad shooting himself in front of you, and being around men in general deals you just doesn't mix very well with being around someone that makes you feel kind of safe. So what if she's a teenage girl and girl hormones make her want a hug sometimes? Is it illegal to get wasted and want to cuddle up with your really pretty girl friends now?
(Fuck, there she goes again. She really is fucking pathetic. Trying to convince yourself of shit like this is what girls who aren't hot do.)
Like the worst kind of mind meld, or whatever the fuck Jeffery calls it when he blathers on about his dumb video games with Crispin and Hunter, Jecka looks up at her as she finishes thinking about that, and fuck her eyes are so pretty. They're mesmerising even when they're not looking at Nicole as if she's the only thing in the fucking room.
"Cuddle with me, Nicole."
She makes those stupid fucking grabby hands as she says it, and Nicole knows she is fucked before she even starts to think about her response.
"I don't cuddle, Jecka."
It's an attempt. She'd even pretend it was a good one if Jecka didn't huff at her in response.
"That's not true. You want to cuddle all the time when you're drunk and sad. Now come here and cuddle with me."
Nicole sighs, defeated. She already knew she was from the start, obviously, because she hasn't been able to properly say no to Jecka since she gave her that scare after Nicole left her with the resident tub of butter and she almost cut her off.
God damn it, this is why she didn't want to make any friends when she came here.
She makes a show of huffing and acting as if she isn't going to do it, but she can tell by the way Jecka keeps smiling that she knows exactly what's going on.
(She really is getting predictable. Letting people close enough for them to know how you act sucks.)
As soon as she sinks into Jecka's arms and feels the little content and happy sigh against her cheek, Nicole remembers why she doesn't cuddle with Jecka when she isn't fucked up out of her mind.
It just makes her remember how bone tired she is. Not "Bitch, you sleep too little" tired, because she's always aware of that, but "please let me not wake up" tired.
She's not dumb. She knows that she is, strictly speaking, not okay. Bitches who are okay don't daydream about not waking up tomorrow. Her life just sucks, okay?
(Except when she's with Jecka. Obviously. The closer the better.She’s still not sure if she wants to think about that can of worms. Or why everything is just better with Jecka.)
Just being near her is a dopamine hit better than anything she's ever gotten out of Mom's pills. The prospect of it, that chance to not just feel not awful but happy, makes getting up in the morning feel genuinely worth it. So excuse her for being a bit overwhelmed sometimes.
She remembers, vaguely, how that stupid therapist Mom made her go to, back when she first started saying how gross boys really are and she decided that something was seriously wrong with her for not just laying down and taking it, kept saying that sometimes feeling better gives you the energy to feel worse. That made no fucking sense then, but Jecka always makes her feel better so maybe that's why she's always such a crybaby when she's around.
Anything remotely resembling thoughts are soon cut off by the way Jecka tangles herself up into her. Like she's a teenager sized teddy bear or something.
Jecka just mumbles into her neck the entire time. "You smell nice". "I don't get how your skin is so soft when you always say skincare is for bitches who aren’t naturally pretty". "You're so nice to hug. You should let me do it more often."
Absolute nonsense from anyone else. It'd make her want to kill herself.
Then, to truly make sure she doesn't get an ounce of sleep for the rest of the week, Jecka grabs her hand in both of her own and slowly, tenderly, turns it over to stroke her wrist with her thumb.
(She's looking at her as if she's a soaked kitten by the side of the road or something equally sad and pathetic. Like she did that time when Nicole woke up with the worst hangover she’s ever had and Jecka told her she’d been sobbing the entire previous night about how Mom hits her and she just wishes she'd love her instead. Ugh. That thought does make her feel like killing herself.)
The worst part is that her eyes begin to blur. Not enough to not see that Jecka notices, though, because it's just her luck she can’t even be pathetic without being embarrassed about it.
Jecka says nothing. Instead she just guides Nicole's wrist upward and lightly brings her lips to one of the clusters of raised lines running along it.
The huff of air that forces its way out through her nose makes her chest feel so tight it hurts.
Again, Jecka says nothing. She just lets her arms shift around the outside of Nicole's, until they're basically melding together. Only then does she mumble something into shoulder.
It sounds suspiciously like "Love you, Nicole."
She doesn't even give Nicole the time to react, because as soon as she's done she slumps down bonelessly, breathing softly Into the nape of Nicole's neck.
What a fucking bitch. How is it fair to just leave Nicole hanging like that?
It isn't fucking fair is what she settles for. If it'd been anyone else she would've just dumped them over the edge of the bed and laughed at them for being delusional.
She can't do that with Jecka, though. Obviously not. Not only is she actually cool, Nicole is pretty sure they're at the point where Jecka could text her "miss you" and she'd actually respond. Fucking Hunter and Megan doesn’t do that, and literally the only thing they do together other than her telling him what to do is talk about how he’s her boyfriend.
(She has Jecka’s name saved in her phone. It’s the only one in there. The only one she cares enough about to buy a special ringtone for, too. God, hindsight is such an asshole.)
She doesn't know when she became the sappiest bitch in the universe, but she clearly is, because somewhere along the way Jecka wakes up enough to start mumbling drunkenly to herself about how nice Nicole is to hug, and Jesus fucking Christ she needs to stop being a crybaby.
Jecka is great. She lets Nicole cry in her lap when life sucks extra and it all becomes a little too much. She'll share her own stash whenever Mom decides that it isn't good enough to just beat her and flushes hers down they drain like a total bitch. She's the best. That is not a reason to feel like she's going to fucking explode whenever they touch.
(The terrifying realisation of why exactly she does is creeping up on her increasingly often. She doesn't want to think about that right now.)
When Jecka's lips suddenly make contact with her cheek, Nicole almost jumps out of her skin.
"J-Jecka, what the Fu. . .
Hazel eyes staring into her own cut that sentence short.
Fuck she's so pretty. Not even hot, although that's true too, but pretty. Eat your heart out, Helen of Troy, you wouldn't have shit on Jecka.
Even knowing who that is makes Nicole want to cut herself. It's the kind of stuff only nerds would know about, but Jecka is in AP English and had to write a whole essay on a book written by some guy literally named like a Simpsons character, and Nicole had listened to her complaining about it just to hear her voice.
(God damn it, hindsight really is an asshole. What the fuck. She's so glad she's never going to be weak enough to tell anyone about this, because holy shit.)
The uncomfortably rapid spiral of thoughts about how this is the exact kind of caring shit she specifically wouldn't allow herself to get mired down in when she got here is interrupted only when Jecka starts giggling.
"You're such a cat."
Normally, Nicole would fucking bite at that. She is not some fucking pet.
Normally the prettiest and coolest girl she's ever met isn't holding her face and basically cooing three inches away from it, though, so she'll have to write that one down in the "unusual circumstances" column.
(She's pretty sure Jecka's perfume is settling in her clothes by now. She feels like such a fucking creep for genuinely considering just not washing them again. What the fuck is wrong with her? Why is she acting like a guy over this?)
Jecka doesn't give her a chance to respond before she giggles again and dives forward to Kiss Nicole's forehead too before settling back into her neck.
"Nicole. . " she whispers, slowly and tiredly. "You smell like. . . you." No shit. She wants to roll her eyes, because ugh, this is why drunks are so annoying.
"Wish we could do this every night. . . "
She's so unbelievably glad Jecka is too busy trying to drool on her shirt, because if she saw the way Nicole knows her face fucking glows she'd actually just go find a ledge to jump from.
"Night, Jecka. I. . . "
She wants to say something. Something extremely stupid that makes her mind scream "too soon you desperate bitch, absolutely not, are you insane?" louder than a voice in her own head has any right to be.
She doesn't. Saying things makes them real. She doesn't think she's ready for things to be real yet.
Instead, she just wraps her arms around Jecka and lets the lingering smell of Jecka's breath fill her nose.
It's. . . nice.
Nicole won't pretend that she's happy, because she hasn't been happy since she was like 13 and Mom finally told her she wished she'd never had a daughter or some shit. Doing things that make her feel less shit or Jecka asking her to be isn't going to make her not want to not wake up tomorrow.
She's as close as she can remember being, though. She wishes they could do this every night too.
She almost laughs, kind of, when she realises that this means that, in the end, she did get Jecka for herself, she isn't alone, and there kind of aren't any slobbering guys in sight.
As she closes her eyes, happy or not, she decides that's good enough.