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It was a deep, penetrating, visceral sensation that Natalie felt; one she couldn’t fully begin to describe. Exasperation was a close contender, but it wasn’t exactly right; it didn’t perfectly encapsulate the bitter resentment that settled like a heavy stone in her stomach. It neglected to address the relentless ache of annoyance that pulsed behind her eyes and hammered in-between her temples like an erratic, laboured heartbeat.
This indescribable, resentful-like feeling was one directed towards Jackie Taylor. Star player, soccer team captain, never-miss-a-single-practice Jackie Taylor. Her abnormally chipper, optimistic demeanor drove Nat up the wall. Incessant positivity highlighted the words of every mantra she ever recited, so sickeningly sweet that it made the inside of Nat’s cheeks pucker.
To make matters worse, everyone else seemed to love her; she was the shining star of Wiskayok and a prime example of the success story each and every student desperately strove to replicate. The perfect doe-eyed baby fawn. Sweet, innocent, ever-hopeful, perfect Jackie.
Nat hated it; she found the whole facade nauseating. It was uncanny being around someone who appeared so naturally pristine, especially when Nat herself was so inherently flawed. It made her feel even more fucked-up; like being around Jackie just encouraged the worst parts of her to appear magnified and grotesquely obvious.
More than anything, Nat hated how nice Jackie was to her in spite of it all. How she’d offer a tight-lipped smile and a tentative wave before practice, curiously testing the waters of friendship even in the face of imminent rejection. How she’d sneak a glance at Nat during pep-talks, searching for some kind of reaction; a nod or a quirked lip, the faintest hint of that starstruck look everyone else seemed to have when they laid eyes on her. Something to give her even a slight idea of what was going on behind the stone-faced mask that she was perpetually, incessantly met with.
Nat never gave it to her. She couldn’t quite reason to herself why, but the thought of letting Jackie have the satisfaction of getting exactly what she wanted made her seethe. Jackie already had everything; maybe keeping this one aching need just out of reach would make her a tiny bit less perfect. And that was something Nat could keep under control; something manageable. Something she could handle.
Jackie pretended to not let it faze her, but Nat could see it. The slight panic in her dilated pupils, nervously averting Nat’s blank gaze like she was a rabbit being stared down by a salivating wolf. The hesitation in her movements when she’d extend an olive branch, hands just noticeably trembling as Nat tirelessly refused to return the gesture. Each time, Nat would watch with morbid fascination; study her. Like a bug under a microscope, Nat’s own personal experiment. It became evidently clear that Jackie’s insatiable, starved, desperate desire to be universally loved would inevitably be the cause of her own downfall.
And Nat would patiently wait for that time to come.
Or, at least, that was the justifiable explanation she gave herself to rationalize the way she studied Jackie with such fascinated scrutiny. It was the exasperated detestation that fueled her interest; the same emotion responsible for the stubborn pit in her stomach, incessantly present whenever Jackie was. Interest fueled by hatred; that’s all it was.
Shauna Shipman was also met with a similar loathing, but not in the same way; rather, it was almost an extension of how Nat felt about Jackie. The closeness of their friendship was nauseating; she couldn’t stand to see them together, the familiarity in their actions, the mirrored symmetry of their movements. It was as if the two shared a singular mind, bodies separated only through the event of some strange mitosis. It was the intimacy of their fraternization that made Nat’s chest ache bitterly and she found her resentment worsened. Watching their whispered conversations from afar, Jackie’s hand cupped to Shauna’s ear, lips barely grazing the skin of her cheek. Seeing the way Jackie would smile. Seeing how much Shauna made her laugh.
Nat’s anger expressed itself through her playing, specifically the way in which she chose to torment Jackie on the field. Scrimmages were brutal, her defence rough and targeted. Even while playing on the same team, Nat treated her with the same unfair persecution; she refused to acknowledge that Jackie even existed.
It became clear that it had finally reached a breaking point for Jackie when she cornered Nat in the locker room after a particularly taunting practice. The team had long since cleared out, empty save for the apprehensive pair. For what felt like forever they stood in discontented silence, the hum of the air conditioning unit stretching the stillness agonizingly long before Jackie finally spoke.
“I don’t get it. What’s your problem?”
It was defensive; exhausted. Nat pointedly avoided her gaze, guilt settling uncomfortably in her throat. There was another beat of silence before Jackie spoke again, but this time the tone in her voice was different; it was hurt.
“Do you hate me?”
Their eyes met. Jackie’s gaze studied her own, forever wide-eyed and watchful. Cautious, yet unflinching.
That burning, aching, relentless feeling; Nat now understood what it was. She knew why even Jackie’s presence elicited such a primitive, punishing ache that made her feel sick. Her heart thudded in her chest, a steady pulse that reverberated in her ribcage like a warning gong. Every basic instinct in her body told her to run; to flee. That Jackie’s presence was a threat to be taken with careful, meditated precaution. Go. Get away it urged, barely audible above the buzzing hum of her own thoughts.
It grew increasingly louder, echoing in her eardrums and making her head spin. She felt dizzy– unsteady ; the sensation was overwhelmingly discomforting. All the while, Jackie’s wide doe eyes remained locked to hers, captivated and unblinking. She waited, unmoving, like she’d turned to stone. Like she was now the wolf, patiently stalking its next meal, prolonging the unbroken trance between herself and her next victim. Waiting to plunge her jagged teeth directly into Nat’s heart.
Nat’s gaze broke first, eyes flicking to Jackie’s lips. It was an immediate, non-conscious focus, drawn in by their pink pout for some strange, indiscernible reason. Reasons Nat would never dare speak aloud. She wetted her own lips with her tongue, mouth parting as she panted softly. Her breathing was ragged and unsteady, uncomfortably loud above the reverie of silence that hung thickly in the air between them.
“ Nat? ” Jackie’s voice broke through the silence, her name emphatically urged like a question; blunt, willful. Not the previous question she had uttered, but one that remained excruciatingly unspoken. One that Jackie already seemed to know the answer to. Nat unconsciously felt herself shake her head no ; not Jackie. Never Jackie.
“ Nat ,” she repeated, this time her words echoed as a softer, gentler phrase than the first time they’d been spoken. The delicate, muted lilt of her tone was what redirected Nat’s gaze back to her own. Jackie’s eyes caught the glint of warm sunlight through the narrow locker room windows. She hated the genuine empathy that reflected back, sincere and heartfelt as always. Nat’s face burned hot with shame, fists clenching tight as her chest heaved. She wanted to slap the inquisitive, tender look right off Jackie’s stupid, perfect face.
The buzzing silence grew louder, Nat’s rabid, wild heartbeat pounding incessantly behind her eyes. She felt something thick– heavy , rising in her chest, building up in a way that made her legs feel weak. No more she thought, desperately. Please, no more.
“Shut up,” Nat finally managed breathlessly, closing the distance between them as her lips finally found Jackie’s.
She hungrily swallowed the other girl’s surprised yelp, suddenly hushed in the space between their mouths as Nat’s hands trapped her warm cheeks. She didn’t want to hear any more; she didn’t want to talk. She wanted this ; consuming her whole as if Jackie were the last thing her lips would ever touch. The burning, roaring sensation seemed to mount rapidly, growing inside Nat like a live flame. It wasn’t comforting; it was greedy and ravenous and wrong . She couldn’t help but crave more.
More .
Jackie’s hands clumsily found their way to her face, kissing her back with similar fervour after the initial brief pause of her hesitancy. Grasping desperately at the expanse of skin below Nat’s jaw. Nails digging into her throat as Jackie whined into her open mouth, wet and willing and hungry .
More .
Nat panted, dizzy now with the fervour of her actions. It was hard to form a coherent thought, entirely consumed by the feeling of Jackie’s skin and the taste of her lips and the way she sounded when Nat kissed her. Nat heard herself groan fervently, like she was watching it unfold from outside of her own body. It was a strange, foreign sensation that she ignored in favour of sliding a hand down Jackie’s waist and yanking her in blindly.
The movement thrust both of them backward into one of the lockers with a forceful bang , the volume startling Jackie and making her pull back with a sudden visible jolt of panic. The room was silent aside from the hushed panting as Nat watched Jackie’s face, flushed bright red and framed with stray wisps of hair. Nat pulled her hands away, warm from where they had made contact with Jackie’s skin.
Oh, Fuck.
Wordlessly, she dropped her arms to her sides, hands trembling ferociously. Jackie’s mouth parted but she spoke nothing, lips noticeably pink and swollen as they regained Nat’s attention. A sudden flash of regretful panic swept through her body as if she’d touched a live wire, extremities alive with trembling, remorseful excitement. She hated Jackie. And Nat hated herself for wanting her. She had let the intensity of her emotions cloud her mind and complicate her intentions. This was wrong; it was sinful.
More than anything, Nat hated how desperately she wished to do it again. She couldn’t stand to look at Jackie any longer; the aching look in her wide eyes made Nat feel sick.
Without so much as a word she slipped out of the desolate locker room, leaving Jackie alone in the thick, suffocating shadow of their mutual shame. She refused to look back, to face the blatant truth of her penitent deed. She would ignore it, the bitter truth, and push it down until it swallowed her completely.
Never again; never Jackie.