Dahlia rubbed her fingers around the scar on her knee, hyper-focused. She had hoped a certain strain would help minimize the pain she felt day to day. “I think it’s amazing that your legs just… move you places. What about you?”
Jackie watched the motion, the tiny circles Dahlia was tracing around her knee. She hadn’t actually caught the other woman’s words until she closed her eyes, letting her mind catch up to rest of her. She chuckled, offering Dahlia a lingering grin. “Right?” She agreed, tapping her own feet as if she needed to confirm that there was truth to her words. “It’s so weird to be in control of your own body, you know what I mean? I think ‘raise your right hand’ and oop, there it goes.” She said, right hand twitching up for a moment before landing back on her own knee. “Or weirder, not being in control of it. Twitches, hiccups, all that.”
She had always been a fidgeter — someone who was constantly drumming her fingers against any surface nearby, chewing her lip, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Jackie was constantly a woman in motion. Maybe it was the wildly undertreated ADHD her parents ignored for most of her life, or maybe it was just a forever restless energy. Either way, it had a tendency to border on insufferable. Occasionally at work, her energy was contained — or at least, channeled into something bordering on productive. Today, though, it spun wildly in the opposite direction. Her usual restlessness had an almost nervous air to it. She would idly check her empty pockets, running her hand along the back pocket of her jeans, sure she’d felt her phone vibrate. Wishful thinking? At long last, closing time rolled around at the Diner. More importantly, she could finally sneak off to the back to look at her phone.
One thing had circled her mind all day — one letter uselessly clanging around, knocking out any other coherent thoughts. C. It was insane. She was behaving like an insane person. She’d never met C. She didn’t even know her full name. But it didn’t feel that way — at least, not for Jackie. She was no stranger to Tinder, or terrible Tinder dates that would end after one night, or sooner, if they found out they shared an ex or two. It was something to pass the time. But somehow, the other woman had captivated Jackie — held her attention in a way that so few managed to do in person, much less over a stupid app she threatened to delete every other week. She looked forward to those messages, the warmth and excitement that came with a new person. New possibilities. The ‘getting to know you’ phase had always been her favorite of any relationship, usually to her own detriment. It was usually just a matter of waiting for the shine to wear off.
But as she unlocked her phone, Jackie paused. Nothing. Full receptions, 79 percent battery, and no message. She actively pouted at the new development, or lack thereof, quickly shifting her phone behind her back as the backroom door swung open. She gave an audible sigh of relief when she saw Eden, poorly concealed phone coming back into view. “She hates me.” She sighed. “You remember that girl I’ve been telling you about? Super hot woman of my dreams?” She asked, as though she hadn’t shared their conversations with Eden almost every shift they overlapped. Eden had made the mistake of encouraging her once, a forever mistake if she ever wanted to be free of playing Jackie’s Tinder couple’s counselor. “Things have been going so well, you know? So I asked about meeting up for a drink or whatever. How bad did I fuck up? Royally, right?”
back and worse than ever with the mess that is jackie. more on her —
If you ask her what her profession is she’ll confidently say she’s an artist, even though she’s sold three paintings in her entire life. True life: she’s a waitress and not even a particularly good one.
She’s terrible with structure. Really and truly terrible. Blame it on the fact that her parents, her were lax to behind with, had too many kids to keep up with. Speaking of, she’s a middle child in every sense. Hates being alone, will try and drag someone along with her no matter the hour or what she’s getting into.
Is always the friend to wander off at parties and make everyone worry, but like 8/10 times she’ll wander back with questionable drinks and a good story.
Moved to Los Angeles five years ago for a girl. It was, predictably, a colossal mistake that went up in flames after less than two months. She considered moving back home, but had fallen in love with the city. That, and she’s a stubborn little shit who is lowkey fueled by spite and red bull.
Believes in everything and nothing, crazy superstitious but also is full of ‘don’t trust the man’ energy. Carries Tarot cards in her bag and will give you a reading on the spot if you ask.
Art school dropout. Not the smartest gal in the worst and v gullible, but she’s trying her best.
She believes life is too short to not do exactly what you want to do when you want to do it. That philosophy has resulted in approximately four broken bones, a dozen reprehensible tattoos, and more one-night stands than she cares to count.
Most popular greetings include: yelling from across the room, enthusiastic (embarrassing) waving, jumping on someone from behind.
Fun dumb stats:
Zodiac Sign: Aries
MBTI: ENFJ
Enneagram: Type 4
Temperament: Sanguine
Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff
Moral Alignment: Chaotic neutral
Primary Vice: Sloth
Primary Virtue: Compassion
Element: Air
For connections:
The girl she moved to L.A. for.
Ride or die friends.
Exes that are still on good terms.
Exes on bad terms.
Tindr matches she hasn’t actually met in person yet.
janainaart
theartofmadeline
areudirty
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
gummygunk
annaxmalina
