Obsessed with the idea of fratboy shauna stealing some guys gf. one of the guys gf is so fucking cute. She loves watching gf walk around in tiny pink sorority shorts. Best of all she makes the best food for game day! Shauna is not above coping a feel in a crowded hallway, " bumping" into her in the bathroom but stealing his girl? Too easy.
Shauna's gaze settled on the shorts hugging your ass so tightly they left little to the imagination. She took a drag from the cigarette she'd swiped from Nat and found herself wondering what your idiotic boyfriend had done to deserve being able to grope your full, shapely ass whenever he pleased. He wasn't particularly handsome, nor was he especially smart. As far as Shauna was concerned, the only explanation for such a ridiculous relationship was that maybe he was good in bed.
It hardly mattered. In fact, it seemed like the best case scenario, because Shauna already knew she was better than him anyway. She was certain he probably didn't even know how to grip your hips properly or leave lingering, burning marks on your soft curves. She could already imagine her dick disappearing between your legs and almost felt your sweaty skin underneath her fingers.
Shauna tore her gaze away from your ass and adjusted her pants, which had suddenly become just a little too tight.
“Dude!” Shauna practically jumped on the couch. She shot Lottie a murderous glare and rolled her eyes as the blonde slid into the seat beside her. “Try it.”
Shauna blinked as Lottie shoved a plate of carrot cake under her nose.
“Get that away from me” Shauna grumbled.
Lottie refused to budge, and Shauna felt her irritation begin to boil over. She was just about to snap and tell her to fuck off when Lottie pointed at you.
“Her boyfriend keeps bragging that she made it, and….”
That was all Shauna needed to hear. She flicked the cigarette butt into the ashtray, shifted on the couch and snatched the plate from Lottie’s hands. She dug in immediately. She could feel Lottie Matthews watching her with amusement, but she hardly cared. Not when you turned around and your eyes landed on her.
Shauna froze for a split second before quickly recovering, flashing you a lazy, almost casual grin. You raised an eyebrow, and for a brief moment her heart hammered against her ribs, convinced you were just going to turn away.
Instead, you returned the smile.
Shauna swore to herself that she'd force herself to eat the entire cake if you smiled at her like that one more time.
You shook your head, but your face held neither disgust nor boredom nor, unfortunately, the blush that would've made Shauna want to throw you over her shoulder and carry you straight to her room.
Her plans were ruined when Derek, Dean, or whatever the fuck your boyfriend's name was walked into the room and wrapped his arms around your waist.
Shauna ceased to exist the moment he latched onto you like a leech, mumbling something into your ear. She grimaced involuntarily and shoved the plate back into Lottie's hands with more force than she'd intended.
“You should just talk to her. You're acting like a little bitch,” Lottie snorted.
With every passing minute, the frat house grew more crowded.Shauna knew she should head upstairs soon and pack her gear. The game was only four hours away, and she always got to the field earlier than necessary. The pre game party was about to kick off here at the frat house.
As much as Shauna loved a good party, the game always came first. The team and winning came before booze and good sex.Maybe her moral code wasn't exactly extensive, but it worked. She always stuck to those simple rules.
Until now.
Suddenly it felt like her feet had been rooted to the floor, because of you.
“I don't even know if she's into girls,” Shauna muttered.
Someone turned on the music. Her eyes drifted to the clock on her phone. Time was ticking.
“Since when has that ever stopped you? Besides, you've got…” Lottie gestured toward Shauna's crotch.
Shauna clicked her tongue in mock offense.
“No class.” She sighed before her expression turned serious.“That asshole's always glued to her.”
***
Shauna adopted a different strategy. One Lottie had mostly come up with. If she couldn't have you to herself, she'd make you want to be alone with her. She told herself it didn't sound like a cheap excuse to brush against you once or twice.
At first, she played politely.Or at least as politely as Shauna Shipman was capable of.
It started innocently enough. She'd sit just a little too close to you on the couch so your legs would touch.
“Sorry,” she'd murmur. “Not much room here. And I happen to take up quite a bit of space.”
You'd smile and tell her it was fine. That only encouraged her.
Every now and then she'd casually drape an arm over the back of the chair or couch where you were sitting. Your boyfriend clearly wasn't thrilled about it, though apparently he didn't see Shauna as much of a threat.
His mistake.
You leaned back, your head brushing against Shauna's forearm. The rest of your friends became absorbed in conversation. Derek? (Shauna still couldn't remember his name, though at that moment she'd have sworn it was Derek.) had gone outside for a cigarette, so she was free to move even closer.
She took a sip from her beer bottle and leaned in. Her breath smelled faintly of beer, but you didn't pull away.
“I can move my arm.”She was so close that her lips nearly brushed your ear. To Shauna, it was obvious; if you truly loved your boyfriend, you would've shoved her away by now. The blow never came, so she kept pushing the line again and again, testing the edge of what was acceptable.
“No need,” you said, shaking your head.
She laughed softly and stayed close for the rest of the evening, enduring your boyfriend's hateful stares.
***
Not once over the following weeks did you protest, so Shauna became bolder and bolder. Usually her methods weren't quite so crude, but she'd never had to work this hard to steal someone else's girl. You never objected, never pulled away. Every time she asked whether she should stop, you told her she wasn't bothering you.
Things would've been going perfectly if it weren’t for the fact, that ou never initiated anything yourself.
Every chance she got, Shauna brushed against you. A shoulder bump here, a hand grazing your hip there. If you noticed, you never let it show. Her hands wandered into increasingly dangerous territory, though only when your boyfriend wasn't around. Whenever she passed by, she'd wrap an arm around your waist in what looked like a friendly gesture. She especially loved doing it when she ran into you in the frat house first thing in the morning.
Sporting a heavy morning erection, she made sure you'd feel exactly what she wanted you to feel.
“Don't mind me,” she'd say, her voice rough with sleep.
She reached into the cabinet for a mug, and that was when you felt the bulge pressing against you through her shorts. Her other hand settled on your waist. It only lasted a moment though Shauna made sure to stretch that moment for as long as possible. She tightened her grip on the mug and smiled with satisfaction when she noticed the blush spreading across your face.
“You okay?” she asked, feigning concern.
“Yeah. Perfectly fine,” you cleared your throat without even looking at her.
Soon enough, Shauna couldn't keep either her hands to herself and her dick in her pants. She felt like a complete pervert. But she'd asked plenty of times whether she should stop. So maybe your boyfriend was just terrible in bed.
The first smack on your ass completely caught you off guard. You'd expected a lot, but just not that. By the fifth one you decided they weren't so bad after all.
They were subtle. Most of the time she'd simply give your ass a squeeze. It wasn’t her fault! It looked way too good in short skirts and those cute little shorts!
You leaned against the kitchen island in the dorm. Someone was throwing a shitty party before tomorrow's game, and your boyfriend had insisted you come. You were chatting with a few girls from your major when Shauna appeared behind you, her scent wrapping around you like a soft scarf. She discreetly slipped a hand beneath your dress and brushed her fingers over your lace panties.
“These for me?” she whispered, making sure the other girls were fully absorbed in their own conversation. She squeezed your ass. You had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. “Or for him?”
“He has no idea I even own underwear like this,” you whispered back.
“What a shame,” she sighed, though the smile in her voice gave her away.
Shauna was convinced she would've gotten you into bed that night if the kitchen hadn't suddenly filled with people, and if she hadn't spotted that idiot's face in the crowd.
***
In the end, Shauna got what she wanted. The apogeum came in the locker room after the game. A few days earlier, she'd managed to get your number. Since then, she'd been shamelessly sending you dirty texts and nude photos. Some part of her knew you touched yourself beneath your blankets while looking at them.
The locker room was empty. Shauna sat on a bench, head bowed, a damp towel draped across the back of her neck. She typed out a message. She knew you were nearby. You'd been at the game wearing her jersey. A few minutes later, the door opened.
”SHIPMAN” stretched across the back of the jersey you were wearing, and Shauna felt her hands itch.
For a long moment, the two of you simply stared at each other.
Finally, Shauna patted her thigh in invitation.
You crossed the room without hesitation and settled onto her lap. Your fingers threaded through her sweat-damp hair while her own hands immediately slipped beneath your jersey, exploring the bare skin beneath.
“I need a shower,” she murmured. “I was hoping you'd help me with that.”
what do you think Shauna would wish for if she had the one wish willow?
depends really.
since im the owner of the abby lee dance company — shauna shipman company (that’s a joke), i have been thinking about it a lot since i saw these edits on tik tok.
at first i want to say; i don’t think shauna would really believe it’s real. i think she’d be very sceptical about it and she would say something very sarcastic. like oh! i wish jeff would fall on his stupid face! but, if we’re speaking about shauna treating it seriously…
let’s begin with the most obvious one, shauna wishing to bring her baby back in season 3. im not sure if she’d want jackie back since taylor is literally impersonator of guilt in her head. in season 2 she’d bring her back too, in s3 however, i wouldn’t be so positive.
pre-crash shauna isn’t sure what she could wish for. and i believe options are few. jealous shauna would definitely wish for something silly like “i wish i could be better/more popular/better at… than jackie”. there’s no room for “i wish jackie would finally listen to me and my needs” shauna isn’t emotionally intelligent enough to do it bffr. i think it could be one also related to jackie’s love life. shauna still doesn’t really realize she’s into jackie so she’d rather ask for jackie to stop dating boys/jeff specifically.
post-crash shauna is genuinely insane. i have no idea. i think there’s not a single strong desire, she’s unstable and it would be strongly justified by what is happening in exact moment. if she’d bring jackie back? probably. though, there’s one thing. i don’t know if she’s mature enough to wish for it out loud, yet: to be a better mom.
obviously it’s only my opinion, you don’t have to agree with me<3
fratboy shauna watching fem reader do her makeup and getting turned on before she can finish and keeps distracting her until she takes a break from getting ready and showing shauna outfitss thinking..
- 🐻 anon
Shauna’s fingers drummed impatiently against the desk. Over the last half hour, she had probably tested every possible spot in your room.
It had started innocently enough. She burst in, slamming the door so hard it made you wince. You didn’t even have time to look toward it before a warm, sweaty mass wrapped its arms around you and squeezed. You couldn’t get a single word out because heated lips were planting kisses all over your face. You stammered for her to get off, desperately trying to shove away the lump of muscle that reeked of that disgusting gym smell.
“You could’ve at least taken a shower,” you grumbled when she finally released you from her embrace.
She grinned in response. She hadn’t even changed out of her workout clothes.
Shaking her head, she mumbled something about being in a hurry to get to her baby for your date.
Now, Shauna wished she had stayed longer at the gym
She paced around the room back and forth, effectively driving you up the wall. While you carefully and slowly worked on your makeup which really wasn’t taking that long, she was just impatient, Shauna had already scrubbed herself clean, put on cologne, and changed clothes.
In fact, she was completely ready to leave.
She had abandoned her gym bag in the corner of the room, which now smelled faintly of her cologne. She pulled on her favorite shirt, making sure the first four buttons were left undone, and shoved a baseball cap onto her head.
Apparently, scrolling through social media while sitting still was too boring.
Over the last twenty minutes, she had managed to knock out a set of push ups, finishing by shoving her flexed bicep in front of your face and refusing to leave you alone until you squeezed it. She did three somersaults across your bed, flipped through your notebooks, bullied your stuffed animal, and when even that wasn’t enough, you became her next target.
God help you.
“How much longer?” she huffed.
She dragged a chair from the other side of the room and rested her head on your desk. Looking up at you with the eyes of a scolded puppy, she nudged your arm.
“Much longer,” you muttered.
Absentmindedly, you scratched her cheek while searching your makeup bag for blush with your other hand.
Not even a minute passed before Shauna started fidgeting again. She scooted even closer, the chair creaking loudly. You sighed when you felt her breath against your neck.
“How much longer?” she tried again, this time nibbling lightly at your neck. She was really testing your patience today.
“I don’t know, sweetheart...” you mumbled while tracing your lips with makeup. You checked the result in a small mirror and reached for your lipstick. When you lifted the mirror again, you saw Shauna staring at you expectantly in the reflection. “A few more minutes. Stop rushing me.”
She rolled her eyes.
If anyone from the frat house knew Shauna acted like this around you, she’d probably die of embarrassment. Out in public she always wore the same sharp, confident expression, only to turn into an unbearable little kid whenever she was with you.
That didn’t mean she stopped acting cocky around you.
“You look pretty either way,” she replied pressing her nose against your neck.
A moment later you felt a wet kiss on your skin, something that still sent a shiver through you.
“With makeup or without.”
She lowered her voice, and her hand slid onto your thigh. Knowing exactly where that was headed, you cleared your throat and stood up.
Shauna groaned dramatically, throwing her head back.
“You can help me pick an outfit.”
Shauna glanced up at you and adjusted herself in the chair, sending you a grin.
“You could always go naked.”
You decided to ignore that.
“Can you wear that dress? The one you wore to Lottie’s birthday?!” Shauna shouted after you when you headed to the bathroom carrying an armful of clothes.
“It barely covers anything,” you laughed back.
The only response you got was a low murmur about how that was exactly the point.
There was one fundamental problem with Shauna: as far as she was concerned, you looked beautiful in absolutely everything.
You showed her three different options, and for every single one she made you spin around, grinned at you, and declared it hot.
“You’re not helping,” you groaned. You were about to turn around and try another outfit, but Shauna rose from her chair and quickly grabbed you by the hips. You squeaked in surprise, completely caught off guard. You didn’t even bother resisting when your girlfriend tossed you onto the bed.
“Just finish already,” she muttered, covering your neck and throat with kisses from top to bottom. “I’m bored, and you look so good in everything that my pants are starting to feel tight. It’s really hard, you should feel…”
“You’re disgusting,” you snorted, though you wrapped your arms around her. “Could you compliment me nicely for once?”
“That was nice. You can wear that dress.”
Her kisses became more insistent.
“Im gonna finger you later in it anyway”
You already knew Shauna wasn’t going to stop until you gave in.
— SPEAK UP, I KNOW YOU HATE ME. || JACKIE TAYLOR X READER.
SUMMARY: Your sweet Jackie turned out to be the worst situationship you ever experienced. But it’s okay, you get to spend only summers with her.
WARNINGS: internalised homophobia, mentions of sex, aged up characters — everyone is 18, no crash, smoking, drinking, angst — zero comfort.
SONG: VODKA CRANBERRY — CONAN GRAY.
A/N: happy pride month guys…
You had to admit that the summer of '97 was one of the worst summers of your life. You had expected to spend the next two months either locked away in your room or wandering the streets, stuffing yourself with ice cream.
Shauna and Van were the first to leave for some kind of camp whose name you could never remember. Lottie had flown to Europe on her father's private plane, and you'd probably receive a postcard from Milan in a couple of weeks. In your mind's eye, you could picture Lottie sitting you down on the bed in her room and pulling out enormous bags of clothes just to show you every single one.
One of the few people left behind was Nat. That didn't surprise you at all. Nat's mother didn't have the money to send her anywhere and she probably didn't care much what her daughter did for two months. In any case, Nat had invited you on countless outings with her friends, but you always declined. They always smelled like weed, and most of their get togethers ended with everyone drinking themselves unconscious.
That day, you slipped your walkman into your pocket and headed out into the streets of Wiskayok. The heat was so intense that after only a few minutes of cycling, you regretted the decision. You let your headphones fall around your neck and rode onto the wealthiest street in the entire town.
You glanced at Lottie's house, now standing empty. Three times a week only the maid and the gardener stopped by to check on the Matthews' cat and water the plants. It crossed your mind that such a small cat must feel lonely in such a huge house.
A bead of sweat trickled down the back of your neck, and your sneakers scraped sharply against the pavement. Your bike screeched to a halt on poorly oiled brakes, and your gaze landed on Jackie Taylor sitting on the front steps of the Taylor house.
You had assumed she'd gone to camp with Shauna, or perhaps her parents had taken her on vacation, but Jackie Taylor was sitting right there in front of you, dressed in shorts and an oversized t-shirt.
You pushed down on the pedal and a moment later tossed your bike onto the neatly trimmed lawn in front of the house.
Jackie glanced at you from the corner of her eye, though she didn't seem particularly interested in your presence. The two of you had never really spoken outside of practices and games.
Now, Jackie was the only familiar option left.
"Lottie left, if that's who you're looking for," she muttered.
Only then did you notice the chilled glass bottle of Coke sitting on the step beside her. You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how thirsty you were.
"I know," you panted, still out of breath from the ride. "What are you doing here?"
Jackie raised an eyebrow and looked back at her house, as if wondering whether that question had really come out of your mouth.
"I live here?" she snorted.
You rolled your eyes. Your legs finally gave out, and you dropped heavily onto the step beside her. Jackie wrinkled her nose, her face twisting into a grimace. Maybe you should have brought deodorant.
"That's not what I meant," you grumbled, staring at what Jackie had been watching: Lottie's cat perched on an upstairs windowsill, scanning the street with sharp eyes. "Didn't your parents take you to Paris or something?"
Jackie shrugged and reached for her Coke.
"I didn't want to go. They went to Paris on their own." She swallowed a mouthful of soda. More freckles had appeared across her face since the sun had started melting the asphalt of New Jersey. "Or something"
She smiled, and you couldn't help smiling back.
Silence settled between you.
You wanted to ask whether she'd like to wander around town with you, but the words got stuck in your throat. It would be humiliating if she turned you down.
"They should let him out sometimes," was all you managed to say.
Jackie looked at you as if you were an idiot.
"That's dangerous."
You didn't argue, because she was right, but you still felt sorry for the cat staring longingly at the sparrows on the sidewalk.
***
Jackie said her parents would be gone for a solid two months.
Your daily bike rides to her house became part of your routine. You'd drop your bike in her yard and make your way up the stairs.
Jackie would be rushing to finish her makeup or pulling a shirt over her head. You tried not to stare at her stomach muscles, but they seemed to draw your eyes on their own. They were... nice. Attractive, even.
“Give me a minute!” she'd call, disappearing into the bathroom.
The first time you came into her room, you were struck by how soulless it felt. The place looked like something out of a furniture catalog, not the bedroom of an eighteen year old girl. At first, she'd emerge from the bathroom after fifteen minutes, barely sparing you a glance before racing downstairs.
After a few days, she'd take your hand. A few days later, she'd greet you with a kiss on the cheek, smearing lipstick across your skin.
Eventually, she started leaving the bathroom door open, like a silent invitation. Crossing that threshold felt like crossing an invisible boundary. The sight of Jackie changing in the middle of the bathroom tempted you, but you kept telling yourself you weren't a pervert.
Until, eventually, your attempts to distract yourself by looking through the tapes on her shelves failed, and you gave in.
The sunlight streaming through the window made Jackie's blonde curls shine like gold. The heat was getting to her, and despite having showered that morning, beads of sweat rolled down her skin, disappearing beneath the fabric of her pale bra and panties.
“Hey.”
Her voice reached you as if through a fog. A single quiet breath that pulled you from your trance. You blushed all the way to your ears. You'd been staring at her like some complete creep. You desperately wanted to believe Jackie had left the door open on purpose.
“Everything okay? I was asking if you'd like to stay and swim in the pool.”
Oh. So Jackie intended to continue torturing you.
“I didn't bring a swimsuit,” you mumbled, and her eyes found yours.
She shrugged. The heart pendant hanging from her necklace swayed between her breasts.
“We've got all day. We can swing by your place and come back.”
***
When the walks around town started to lose their appeal, Jackie mentioned bike trips. She hadn't used her bike in a year, and it definitely needed some work, but fortunately she had you.
One look from Jackie's brown eyes, and a few hours later you were dragging her old bike out of the shed to pump the tires, oil the brakes, and tighten the pedals. The sun blazed overhead as usual, though the air was heavy and humid. Later, dark clouds gathered above the town, and before you could finish the repairs, the rain came down like a heavy curtain.
Jackie sat you down on the living room couch. Water dripped from your hair, staining the white upholstery, while she gently tried to dry you off.
“What a dedication,” she grinned, ruffling your hair with a towel.
“Anything for you,” you said, frowning.
You hadn't meant it to sound like a confession, but Jackie fell silent.
And just when you thought everything was ruined and that Jackie would throw you out of the house, she leaned in and kissed you.
It lasted only a moment, like a brush of wind. Jackie tasted like cigarette smoke. She smoked much more whenever her parents weren't around.
Neither of you chose to comment on it, but that evening you replayed what had happened over and over in your head. Your leg dangled above the ground. The rain had cooled the air, and for the first time in days you could breathe freely. You smelled entirely of Jackie's perfume.
The clock read 11:11 p.m. Crickets had begun their concert.
For the first time, you felt like you'd won something.
***
Jackie was athletic enough to leave you behind on a bike without much effort. She pedaled like she was possessed. She showed you no mercy and didn't slow down until you reached the lake.
“I let you win!” you tried to sound firm, but softened when Jackie burst into genuine laughter.
“Bullshit!”
You abandoned your bike where she did and followed her down to something that could barely be called a beach, though by Wiskayok standards it was good enough. You stood beside her, staring out at the water. Your shirt clung unpleasantly to your body, and sweat stung your eyes.
“Want some water?” you asked, turning toward your backpack to pull out a bottle.
Jackie shook her head, but the moment you took a step away, she grabbed your hand. You wouldn't have guessed she was that strong, but she didn't need much force to push you toward the nearest tree.
Her lips were chapped, and your first thought was that she really should drink some water. Only a moment later did it occur to you that you were supposed to return the rough kiss. Her hands quickly slipped beneath your shirt. A sigh escaped your lips as cool air brushed against your overheated skin.
You felt as though your body had caught fire. Jackie's kisses were aggressive and unbearably hot. When she pressed her tongue between your lips, you couldn't stop the moan that escaped you, and your knees nearly gave out beneath you.
You almost dropped to your knees right in front of her.
Then the sound of male laughter reached your ears, and as suddenly as the kiss had begun, it ended.
You were breathing hard, searching for the source and there, on the other side of the lake, stood Jeff Sadecki with a group of his friends. All of them in swim trunks, wading into the water one after another, shouting wildly. They didn't look like they'd seen you, but Jackie seemed terrified.
“Let's go home,” she said, quickly heading for her bike.
You gave yourself a moment to process everything before following after her.
“We just got here! Come on, Jax, you're not seriously leaving because your ex—”
Jackie turned toward you.
“I said I want to go home.” She snapped, and you actually took a step back. “What don't you understand? If you want to stay, then stay. I don't give a shit.”
You should have known then what it meant. You should have known it wasn't about Jeff being Jackie's ex boyfriend. It was about the fact that he called every boy with painted nails a faggot. You should have known Jackie would never kiss you anywhere except beneath the safety of a tree's shadow.
That evening she appeared outside your window.
You let her in, still hurt that she'd simply left you at the lake, but you forgave her when she began whispering apologies and pressing wet kisses to your thighs.
Jackie wouldn't push you away a second time.
Not Jackie.
***
For a month, things were good, and you made mistake after mistake, believing there was something real between you. You called her your girlfriend in front of Nat, who only raised an eyebrow in response.
For a while, you truly felt loved. You spent every moment together, and Jackie could barely keep her hands off you. She loved dragging you into her bedroom first thing in the morning and losing herself in your moans. When you casually admitted that sometimes you felt like she was only with you for the sex, she organized an absurdly sweet date, and for the next few days you spent your time cuddling, baking cakes, and watching movies.
The real storm began two weeks before the end of summer.
It started innocently enough. Jackie's parents returned from their vacation, and suddenly you had much less time for each other. You figured that was perfectly normal, Jackie had homophobic parents. It wasn't surprising that she didn't want to come out. You swallowed your disappointment. Now she spent more time at your house instead. At first, everything felt normal.
Until Jackie found out that you'd been going around calling her your girlfriend.
Nat let it slip one day right in front of her, and before long Jackie Taylor was causing a scene in your bedroom.
“Why does it bother you so much?!” you finally snapped, thoroughly sick of her yelling about how you shouldn't call what you had something it wasn't. To you, it seemed obvious, if you acted like a couple, why not call yourselves one? “What the fuck is your problem, Jackie?”
“Because we're not together, for fuck's sake!” she shouted before she could stop herself. “We're not, and we never will be! I can't be with someone... like that.”
“Like that?” you shot back. “You mean a lesbian? Is that some kind of insult to you?”
Jackie rolled her eyes. She planted her hands on her hips, and for a moment you hoped she'd apologize and everything would go back to normal like it always did. Instead, she shook her head and started explaining things as if she were talking to a five year old. She pointed at you, then at herself.
“We're different,” she said, raising a finger when you tried to interrupt. “Very different. And I can't... I can't be with someone like you. I can't live like that. I deserve something better.”
You were speechless.
The thought that Jackie might secretly be afraid of who she was had been buried deep in your mind. You'd never had a reason to dwell on it, and now you regretted not doing so. You wanted to force yourself to feel some empathy, some understanding, but Jackie had just outright suggested that you were the worst possible option.
As if you were the epicenter of her moral downfall.
“We differ in one fucking thing, Jackie,” you replied.
The distance between you grew, though you weren't sure which one of you was stepping away.
“You're a fucking coward. That's the difference between us.”
“You know damn well that's not what this is about!”
***
After that argument, Jackie didn't speak to you for almost a year.
You started college. You kissed other girls in bars, and just when you'd finally convinced yourself you didn't care about her anymore, Jackie appeared on your doorstep during summer break.
It felt strange returning to her house. Lottie the cat was once again peering out at the street with her sharp eye. Jackie's room was just as empty and cold as it had been a year earlier.
Her parents were gone again.
For a few weeks, you were eighteen all over again, sneaking around and having sex with Jackie in hidden corners, hiding from the entire world.
You felt pathetic.
You'd sworn to yourself you'd never get trapped in a relationship like that again, and yet there you were, smoking cigarettes beside the pool with Jackie. One of her hands wrapped around your thigh. With the other, she crushed out her cigarette. Ash scattered into the ashtray.
That evening, you noticed her cleaning the ashtray and putting it back in her father's study.
You understood then that it would be your last night in her bed before she tossed you aside like a cigarette butt.
That night you left before she woke up.
***
You had Jackie until the summer ended, but this time you started irritating her before august even arrived.
Jackie began avoiding kisses. She brushed your hands off her body. She snapped at you over the smallest things. There was a terrible emptiness in her voice whenever she said your name.
Sitting on your bedroom floor, you looked over at Jackie, who had taken over your bed and was stubbornly staring at the ceiling. You turned over the new cassette she'd given you for some strange reason.
For days now, you'd felt nothing from her except coldness, resentment, and alcohol a realization that wasn't easy to admit.
Her eyes seemed greener with every passing day, and eventually you realized that Jackie was spending more time crying than you'd ever suspected. You kept inventing reasons, trying to convince yourself she still cared in some way.
Then you'd ask why she kept coming to your house and giving you cassettes.
“I don't know,” she'd say with a shrug, frowning as though it annoyed her that you'd even dared question her decisions.
A year ago, Jackie would have answered something like, because I like you, dummy.
The Jackie who drank too much had no idea why she still clung to you.
When she left, she abandoned the half-empty bottle of vodka you'd opened together and took back the shirt she'd given you a year earlier. She thought you wouldn't notice. But lately you'd been talking less and observing more, trying not to irritate her unnecessarily.
After she left, you drank the warm, sun heated liquor one swallow after another.
You would have liked to get drunk with some dignity. Instead, you pressed a photograph of the two of you against your chest and cried like a child. By the time your pillow was completely soaked, you managed to get back onto your feet, though it took considerable effort. Your fingers tightened around the photograph. You'd taken it a year earlier by the pool, and since then it had sat at the bottom of your bedside drawer.
Jackie had a copy too. Assuming she hadn't thrown it away.
You knew it was a bad idea.
The room spun, and your throat burned from the alcohol. You picked up the telephone receiver and dialed the Taylor residence. Your forehead rested against the cool wall.
The living room was empty at that hour. There was nothing to hear except the ticking of the clock and your muffled sobs.
You could barely stay standing.
You didn't expect anyone to answer at that time of night, but you figured that if anyone did, it would be Jackie.
You were right.
“Yeah?”
“I can't do this anymore.”
Silence.
Then you heard a rustle in the background, and the line went dead.
hello, since i can reach a pretty high number of people here, i wanted to say some things. even if one person will reflect on this topic, it’ll be a success.
im saying this to every person with uterus — go check on yourself at least once a year. this is the best thing that you can do for yourself. i spent past few days in hospital, i had surgery and i know my situation would be way worse if i wouldn’t be going to gynaecologist earlier.
one visit can save you a lot of issues, pain and stress. it’s better to go once a while, even if it’s stressful and you might be embarrassed, than end up struggling with your health in hospital. take care of yourself. go to gynaecologist.
