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itsnotyouithink · 21 days ago

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Over the Limit - pt.v

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

summary: An unlikely group forms—did someone say road trip?

word count: 10.8k

a/n: It's officially been a month since I've started posting Over the Limit on Tumblr! Thank you everyone for the overwhelming amount of support💚

————

How are weekends meant to look for the average 20-year old? Finally sleeping in after having a week of 8am classes? Scrambling to your job that funds all your stupid vices? Maybe it was stressing over picking the sluttiest outfit you can wear since you had a frat party and needed all eyes on you?

That realm of life seemed impossible for you. When you’re from Brimstone you don’t have the privilege of worrying about those things—no, instead on this fine Saturday morning you’re groggily rubbing your eyes open at 6am, while Hunter is panicking about the land lord who’s five seconds away from knocking the door down.

“Dude just answer,” you say annoyed, you could barely sleep last night and the last thing you needed was this antsy land lord playing drums on the door.

“I fucking can’t!” Hunter whisper yells, crouching down to your position on the floor where you had slept the night prior. “He’s gonna hand me an eviction notice when he sees me!”

And that is how your weekend begins when you’re from Brimstone.

After ignoring the loud knocks for some time, the land lord left grumbling angry curses at Hunter.

“So you’re backed up on two months of rent?” you ask, learning the information from the man that was once outside the door.

The older guy sighs with a nod, “Yeah, you know how it is. I haven’t been getting much races lately. I should’ve put a wager on you when you raced that Blond douche,” he says with a hollow chuckle.

You frown. You know exactly how it is. It’s not rare for you to walk into the garage and hear the whispers of unhappy Sinners about their pay cut.

Race clubs had their own economy. The quickest way for racers to make money was by paying an entry fee to compete, with the total pool going to the winning racer or crew. Crews like the Sinners also occasionally hosted parties, collecting entry fees to boost their earnings.

But gambling was the bread and butter—side bets, wagers, and deals made on the outcome of races. Anyone could place a bet, whether it was on their own crew or against them, but most of the money came from outsiders: third-party crews or devoted townspeople.

And then there was the fastest, most dangerous way to make cash.

“Didn’t you have a sponsor?” you asked.

Hunter's jaw tightened, and a shadow of bitterness crossed his face. "Yeah, I did. But things went south," he muttered. "Sponsors aren't what they used to be. They're too caught up in politics, or they want a cut so big it's not worth the payout."

You nodded, understanding that finding and keeping a sponsor was a double-edged sword. While they offered financial stability and access to better equipment, they came with strings attached—controlling interests, unwanted appearances, and expectations that sometimes choked a racer's freedom. You had to be in at least the top 5% of racer's to even be considered by a sponsor, and Hunter was just that good. But that lifestyle was clearly not worth it for him. You don't blame him, you've heard the stories of sponsor's having crazy asks for their prodigies.

"You'd be a sponsor's dream you know?" he suddenly says.

You quirk a brow up, not knowing how so.

"You're a great racer, you get along well with the rich, you're submissive—

"I am not submissive!"

————

After some more banter with Hunter you finally proceed with your morning and freshen up. As you're standing in front of the bathroom sink, wondering how you're going to brush your teeth, you noticed two toothbrushes in the holder.

Hunter lived alone.

Not knowing the origins of the second toothbrush and not willing to risk it, you opted to brush your teeth using your finger, and splashed some cool water on your face, trying to chase away the exhaustion and pull yourself together.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, a chill slid down your spine. Shock had a strange way of altering a person’s expression—jaw locked, eyes hardened, gaze steely. The revelations of last night were etched into your face like battle scars.

You were scared. Everything you heard last night was real—things that will directly impact you and your loved ones. It wasn’t just some joke, it was real life. And about your father...ever since the revelations of last night, it's been weighing on you—if you should tell your mom about the foul play in her husband’s death. How do you even tell someone that?

Your hands tightened around the edge of the sink, water dripping off your face and pooling on the counter. You thought about how it didn't shock you more to learn that your father’s death was no accident. Did that make you a terrible daughter? You thought of Anton, always armed, always prepared for whatever might come his way. Of course this life was brutal. Your father had been a founder, a leader—how could it not be dangerous?

But who wanted your father dead?

That was rather the question that gnawed at you, digging deeper with every passing second. Who could have wanted him gone, and why? Your fingers clenched the porcelain sink harder, the tremor in your hands matched by the anger coursing through you. And then the tears came undone, streaking down your face and mingling with the water already on the counter.

“Y/n?” Hunter’s voice cut through the fog of your mind, followed by a knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, you okay in there?”

You sucked in a shaky breath, fighting to steady yourself. Now was not the time nor place for breaking down.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you called out, forcing your voice into something resembling normalcy. You wiped your face with the back of your hand and swung the door open. Hunter stood there, a towel draped over his arm, eyes shadowed with worry.

He frowned as you brushed past him, taking the towel and pressing it to your damp face. The silence hung between you.

Hunter’s gaze followed you as you moved, his eyes full of questions. “Y/n, look” he started his voice soft, hesitant, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter you. "I don't know what's going on with you. But I know it's a lot. I already know that Jenna is a Viper and now this Ghost Smoke shit. You can talk to me about whatever you're dealing with if you want."

You paused, towel clenched in your fists, staring blankly at the wall. The weight of everything threatened to crush you, but you felt the warmth of Hunter’s hand as he reached out, resting it on your shoulder. That simple touch was enough to crack the fragile shield you’d tried so hard to maintain.

Tears welled up again, this time falling freely. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out, each one tugging at the raw wound inside you. “Hunter, I don't know what to do.”

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a firm embrace. The warmth and steadiness of him anchored you as you broke down, sobs shaking your frame.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his hand gently rubbing your back. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. You’re not alone.”

The floodgates opened, and you told him everything—how you met Jenna, her request to find dirt on Percy, your dad supposedly wanting out of the Sinners, and the revelation that Bullet and Apex weren’t just names, but legacies tied to betrayal and death. Hunter listened in silence, holding you tight, his own expression darkening with every word.

In that moment, the fear and uncertainty didn’t vanish, but they felt a little more bearable. You had someone who knew, someone who would stand by you.

————

You and Hunter sat side by side on his worn couch, the late morning sun casting a soft light through the window. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable now; it was a shared reprieve after an outpouring of truths.

Hunter leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the couch, the other in the bag of chips he pulled out for you two. Your breakfast. He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “So, Jenna came to you with this whole thing about Percy and the Ghost Smoke operation, and you just… jumped in? Talk about submissive.”

You punch his shoulder lightly, and managed a small smile, the relief of finally sharing the truth giving your chest room to breathe. “I didn’t think it would spiral like this,” you admitted. “It was supposed to be simple—find out what Percy was up to, help Jenna. But now, with what we know...”

Hunter’s eyes darkened as he nodded. “It’s more than just racing politics. It’s deeper, more dangerous.” He glanced at you, concern still etched into his features. “And you’re sure Anton has no idea you’re involved?”

The question hung heavy between you, but you felt more grounded now. You nodded. “For now, he doesn’t. But I don’t know how long that will last.”

A sudden thought crossed your mind, and you straightened. “Do you think Mikey knows Jenna is with the Vipers?”

Hunter shrugged, "She give you any reason to think that?"

"She was just... observant man. The other day—when we went on the drive. She remembered the Aston from the footage she saw of me and Jenna. Said something about how it was the car I rolled in with 'my girl' in."

Hunter’s smirk returned, and he nudged you again, playfulness edging out the tension. “Maybe she’s paying close attention because she’s totally into you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “I’m being serious, Hunter.”

“Alright, alright,” Hunter said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But on that note... we need to talk about the Aston.”

You frowned, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “What about it?”

Hunter leaned forward, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by seriousness. “Think about it. We crashed that meeting last night and got caught snooping around. The only lead they have on us is the car. They know we escaped in the AM. If they’re looking for anything, it’ll be that.”

Fuck he was right.

"I say we demolish it. Scrap it for parts or something."

"—no!" you exclaim interrupting his thought. "I'll find a place to have it stashed. Don't worry."

The older guy squinted his eyes in confusion. You were a mechanic, you never got attached to your cars. You knew better than anyone that cars come and go. Yet you couldn't let go of this one.

————

Being a mechanic had its perks, and one of the best was the network of wealthy clientele you’d built over the years. If someone had enough money to buy a custom-built, fully modded car from you, chances were they also had plenty of land—land that could discreetly store a car like yours. Now, you just had to hope their generosity matched the size of their bank accounts.

You stepped out onto the balcony as you scroll through your phone, siffling through your contacts.

"Hmm, maybe John might help me out," you mummer to yourself pressing call.

John was one of your more calm clients. He was the proud new owner of a 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1. You’d delivered the car just over a month ago—the same night Anton nearly gave you a heart attack by pulling a mock robbery, complete with a gun pointed at you. You shook the memory from your mind, focusing instead on the call as it began to ring.

You first engaged with some small talk before you asked him for help. For all you knew he was a sponsor involved in some shady shit, maybe even involved in Ghost Smoke. Is this what paranoia is?

"I hope there's no complaints about the Mustang," you laugh lightly.

"No complaints Y/n."

"Amazing...so I actually need a favour," you said, leaning on the balcony railing. “I’ve got a car I need to tuck away for a while. Somewhere discreet. Think you could help?”

There was a brief pause, then a hum of consideration. “Hmm, yeah, I’ve got a lake house not too far from here. You can stash it there. No one will bother it.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll swing by later today.”

“Anytime kid,” he said before the call ended.

You exhaled, relief washing over you. One less problem to worry about—for now.

————

After letting Hunter know you’d secured a spot for the car, you set out for the address John had texted. The drive felt almost reflective, the Aston Martin humming beneath you like it understood the significance of this moment. Arriving at the secluded lake house, you carefully parked the car— the car that had genuinely started it all for you.

The Uber ride back to Hunter's was quiet, except for occasional small talk with the driver and faint chatter of the radio. You leaned your head against the window, letting the scenery blur as you reflected on everything that had unfolded.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. Hunter’s name flashed on the screen. You swiped to answer.

"Hey," you greeted.

"Hey, where are you?" Hunter's voice was calm but direct.

"In an Uber. On my way back to yours."

"Cool, change of plans. Head to Brenda’s Diner instead."

You frowned, the name clicking in your memory. "Brenda’s? That’s in the next city, like forty minutes away. Why there?"

"Just meet me. We’ll grab breakfast, Hunter said nonchalantly. "I’m almost there already,"

Your confusion deepened, your brows furrowing. "Why are you suddenly all the way out there? And why can’t we eat closer to your place?"

He sighed, "Jenna texted me, okay? She asked me to come here, so I’m here. So just come.”

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? Jenna texted you? Why does she even have your number?"

Hunter chuckled lightly, clearly amused by your confusion. "Relax, Y/n. Just come here. Who knows, maybe she’ll butter your biscuits or drizzle your pancakes."

"Excuse me—what?" you sputtered, but before you could say more, he hung up, leaving you staring at your phone in disbelief.

You slumped back in the seat, your mind racing. What in the actual hell is going on?

————

“Thank you sir," you say as you get out the Uber. You squint your eyes as you take in the red and yellow sign that said that read Brenda’s. Even the sun shined brighter in this town, from what you knew the town you were currently in—Countsville, wasn’t tainted with race crews and class differences. It was an average suburban town.

You couldn’t help but wonder why Jenna had called you here of all places. Did she have some secret life here? A hidden family? The absurd thought made you chuckle under your breath as you shook your head.

Pulling out your phone, you caught your reflection in the camera and quickly fixed your hair. A pang of nervousness hit you out of nowhere, making you hesitate. Why were you even nervous? Shaking off the feeling, you squared your shoulders and stepped inside.

“Ah, there she is! Y/n!” Hunter’s voice boomed, his arm shooting into the air to wave you over like you were lost in a crowd.

Your eyes darted to him, already settled comfortably in a booth, and then to the two women seated across from him—Jenna and the girl from last night. The one whose name you still didn’t know.

Your steps slowed as their hushed conversation came to an abrupt halt. Without a word, you slid into the booth next to Hunter.

Hunter leaned back in the booth, a smirk playing on his lips. “Took you long enough. Thought maybe you needed a treasure map to find this place.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned. Your gaze darted to Jenna, sitting across from you with her arms crossed and her focus firmly planted on the coffee in front of her. She didn’t even glance up when you sat down.

The girl sitting next to her, however—was the complete opposite. She was all smiles, her gaze bouncing between you and Jenna like she was waiting for something to happen between you both.

“Uh, hey. I don’t think we’ve been introduced?” you said, leaning forward slightly.

“I’m Aliyah,” she replied, her grin widening as she reached across the table, hand outstretched.

You took it, chuckling softly. “Nice to meet you.”

Aliyah’s smile turned teasing. “I’m Jenna’s sister.”

“Sister?!” Your jaw dropped as you let go of her hand, the word practically punching its way out of your mouth. Was she a Viper too? Did you get caught up in a family of snakes?

“Well it's nice to meet you,” you muttered, your attention flickering to Jenna. “So, uh, what’s this all about?” You doubt she invited you here to introduce you to her family.

Nothing. Not a word. Jenna’s silence was loud, deafening even, as she swirled her spoon in her coffee like you weren’t even there.

Hunter glanced between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “Oh, this is fun. Should I just grab some popcorn, or…?”

You shot him a glare. “Not helping.”

“Not trying,” he quipped, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Anyway, why don’t you ask Jenna why we’re here? She’s the mastermind behind this little breakfast summit.”

You turned back to her, trying again. “Jenna?”

Still nothing.

“Seriously?” you asked, the irritation creeping into your voice. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

Jenna finally looked up, her expression cool and indifferent. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me? Hard to tell when you’ve been acting like I don’t exist for the past few days.”

Hunter snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “She got you there.”

You sighed, sinking back into your seat. This wasn’t what you had anticipated. Sure, you figured she’d be upset about you ghosting her, but you thought you’d moved past that. Last night at the meeting, it felt like you’d reached some kind of unspoken understanding. Yet here she was now, stone-faced and silent, her cold shoulder speaking louder than words.

“Anyways, can we get some actual food in here before someone combusts?”

Aliyah snickered, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Sure, Hunter. Anything to save the day.” She turned her attention to you. “You have to try these pancakes, Brenda’s makes the best pancakes in town!"

Jenna muttered under her breath, just loud enough for you to catch. “Probably too busy to eat pancakes these days.”

Your jaw clenched, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This wasn’t the time or place to start something. Instead, you turned to Aliyah, doing your best to ignore Jenna’s jab. “Yeah, pancakes sound good. Let’s do it.”

Hunter raised his hand to flag down a server. “Pancakes for the table, and maybe a side of good vibes, yeah?”

————

For the past 20 minutes, the table had been quietly enjoying their pancakes, the clinking of cutlery filling the gaps in conversation. You caught Hunter sneaking a glance at your plate, his eyes drifting to the fluffy stack of pastries and then to the glass jar of maple syrup conveniently sitting right next to Jenna. With a sly grin, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly not letting his earlier joke die.

Aliyah finally broke the silence, her voice cutting through the calm. "Alright, since Jenna's committed to this whole silent act, I guess I’ll get us started. Last night was absolutely insane, and I think we seriously need to talk about everything we learned."

You frowned, glancing between the two girls across from you. “Wait, we? What do you mean, we?”

Aliyah looked at you like you’d asked a ridiculous question. “I mean we, as in all of us sitting here. Jenna, Hunter, me—you. We’re in this now.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your brow furrowing deeper. “But… Jenna got her dirt on Percy, didn’t she? That’s what all this was supposed to be about. What more does she have to do with any of this?”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and for the first time since you’d arrived, Jenna’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. Her expression was calm but laced with a distinct edge—and some hurt?

“Are you serious?” she said, setting her coffee cup down with a soft clink. “You think I can just walk away now?”

“Why not?” you shot back. “You wanted proof of what Percy was doing, and you got it. That’s what you asked me to help you with. This whole Ghost Smoke thing—it’s not your problem.”

Jenna’s jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, it looked like she was biting back a retort. Aliyah, however, was quick to jump in.

“It’s everyone’s problem,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. “Ghost Smoke isn’t just some petty racing drama, Y/n. It’s destroying lives, and if the Vipers start pushing it harder, it’s going to get worse. Way worse.”

Hunter nodded, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by something more serious. “Aliyah’s right. Last night wasn’t just some casual run-in with Percy’s people. That dealer wasn’t joking around, and you saw how he talked about the ‘boss.’ They’re planning something big.”

You leaned back in your seat, the weight of their words sinking in. But still, a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging thought that none of this should fall on Jenna—or you, for that matter.

"I don't want you two getting involved," you said, your tone flat and detached, though the tightness in your chest betrayed the storm underneath. You stared at your plate, pushing a piece of pancake around with your fork, avoiding their eyes.

Jenna scoffed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Are you serious right now? You don’t want us involved? After everything last night?”

Your gaze remained fixed downward, even as her frustration bristled against you. “It’s not your fight,” you muttered.

“Not my—?” Jenna’s voice rose, and you finally looked up to see her glaring at you, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “You don’t get to make that call! You think you can just decide when you want me around and when you don't? Newsflash—you’re already in deep, and so are we. There’s no undoing it now.”

You stayed silent, your jaw clenching as you tried to tamp down the surge of emotions threatening to surface. She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t drag them further into a world where people are pushing drugs—where people are capable of taking lives, just like they had taken your father’s and uncle's.

“It doesn’t matter why,” you said finally, your voice still low. “I just… I don’t want you involved. Either of you. That’s all.”

Jenna let out an incredulous laugh, throwing her hands in the air. “Unbelievable," she muttered, pushing back her chair abruptly and standing up, her frustration was palpable as she strode toward the diner’s exit.

You watched her leave, a pang of guilt twisting in your stomach. Hunter sighed beside you, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not wrong, you know,” he said quietly. “You can’t do this alone. They were there last night. As much as you don't it to be true, they're now part of it.”

You didn’t respond, the weight of your own thoughts pressing down too heavily. Even though your intentions were to protect them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were only making things worse.

————

"If you grip the wheel any harder, it’s going to fuse with your hands," Aliyah quipped, casting a cautious glance at her sister.

Jenna shot her a sharp side-eye but said nothing, her focus fixed on the road ahead as they made their way home.

When it became clear that Jenna wasn’t going to return to the table, Aliyah had reluctantly followed her, leaving behind the unfinished business that had brought them all together in the first place.

“I don’t get it,” Aliyah said, breaking the silence. “I thought you two were fine last night. What’s with the sudden mood swing?”

Jenna’s grip on the wheel tightened even further, her knuckles white against the leather. She thought she had been fine too. Last night, things had felt different—maybe not perfect, but at least... manageable. But seeing you again today had stirred something raw and unexpected inside her.

It's not your problem, you said.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, her voice strained, as though admitting it hurt.

"Well I don't think your girl—sorry Y/n had any bad intentions. And if you really want to get involved in this Brimstone drama, then you have to make up with her eventually" Aliyah said, her tone gentler now.

Jenna let out a slow breath through her nose, her eyes never leaving the road. “It’s not that simple,” she murmured. “She ghosted me, Aliyah. And now she’s acting like she has to carry everything on her own, like I can’t handle myself. She wanted me around at first and now she decides I'm out? Oh I'm sorry I wasn't aware I was some fucking doll.”

“Or,” Aliyah countered, “maybe she’s terrified of something way bigger than you realize and doesn’t want to drag you—us into it.”

That struck a nerve. Jenna’s fingers twitched against the steering wheel as she mulled over her sister’s words. Was it fear? Was that why you were pushing her away? Her frustration softened slightly, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen.

“Even if that’s true, she’s going about it the wrong way,” Jenna said after a moment. “I can’t help if she keeps shutting me out.”

Aliyah smirked faintly, crossing her arms. “So tell her that. You’re not the type to sit around and wait for someone else to fix things, right? Go confront her, like the fiery little Viper you are.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her sister’s teasing, but the words stayed with her. Maybe Aliyah was right—waiting wasn’t getting her anywhere, and the Brimstone situation wasn’t something she could handle without you. As much as she hated to admit it, you were already too entangled with one another for her to pretend otherwise.

She exhaled sharply, determination taking root. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll figure it out. But if she tries to pull some shit on me again, I won't hold back."

Aliyah grinned. “Now that’s the Jenna I know.”

Aliyah sighed in relief, glad her words had managed to ease her sister’s frustration. She could have kept up the teasing, sure, but she knew better. Deep down, she understood the root of Jenna’s anger—it wasn’t just about the danger or the argument at breakfast.

You weren’t wrong, after all. As far as Aliyah knew, the terms of whatever arrangement you and Jenna had were clear: you’d help her get what she needed, and once she had it, that was that. Simple, transactional, with no strings attached. But that simplicity seemed to be the very thing eating at Jenna now.

It wasn’t just frustration; it was hurt. Hurt because Jenna realized you seemed okay with it all ending there—with the two of you going your separate ways. And it wasn’t okay for her. Aliyah could see it—the sadness in Jenna’s eyes, the way her jaw clenched just a bit tighter than usual. It wasn’t about the Ghost Smoke or Brimstone drama anymore. It was about you.

Her sister wasn’t mad at you for walking away. She was sad that you didn’t seem to need her the way she found herself needing you. Sad that she no longer had a reason to stay connected.

Aliyah glanced at her sister, who was staring straight ahead, her grip on the wheel lighter now but still firm. Jenna didn’t want to admit it, not yet, but she was falling. And Aliyah could only hope she didn’t hit the ground too hard.

As Aliyah mindlessly glanced at her side view mirror, she noticed something.

"Uhm sis, do you think that car's been following us?"

Jenna raises her gaze up to the rear view mirror and she spotted the same car that had been trailing them for a while now—a solid black Escalade. But California traffic is like that, the typical resident wasn't going to lane change like a racer. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Still, to be safe, she made a series of deliberate right turns, one after the other, her pulse quickening with each corner. When she glanced at the mirror again, her fears solidified. The car was still there.

“It’s not nothing, Ali. They are following us,” Jenna said, her voice low but tinged with rising panic.

Aliyah stiffened beside her, her wide eyes darting to the side mirror. “W-what? Who do you think it is? Percy? Or those guys from yesterday?”

Jenna’s jaw clenched as she considered their options.

"Aliyah, call Y/n. Now," Jenna ordered, her voice steady, tossing her phone to her sister.

Aliyah fumbled with the phone, her fingers trembling. “What do I even say? ‘Hey, someone’s following us, want to join the party?’” she muttered nervously, trying to mask her fear.

Jenna shot her a sharp look. “Just tell her where we are and what’s happening. She’ll know what to do.”

Aliyah hesitated for a split second before dialing your number. “It's ringing.” Aliyah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Jenna?"

The girl driving couldn't help but feel relief upon the sound of your voice, maybe it was because you both have faced many high stakes situations together and have always made it out on the other side. And in that moment, she felt certain you’d all make it through this one too.

“Okay, so, there’s this car, and it’s been following us for a while. Jenna took a bunch of right turns, and they’re still there. We don’t know who they are, but—”

“Aliyah,” you interrupted, your tone sharp with focus. “Put Jenna on.”

Aliyah quickly handed the phone over, and Jenna brought it to her ear without taking her eyes off the rearview mirror.

“Jenna, can you lose them?” you asked, voice soft, sensing her hesitation.

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve never done this before—what if I mess up? What if—”

“Jenna,” you interrupted gently, but firmly. “Take a deep breath. You’ve got this. But I need you to help me help you, okay? What’s up ahead?”

Jenna blinked, her focus flicking back to the road. “Uh, there’s a left turn coming up, and... a main road with a lot of traffic.”

“Alright, take the left. Make it clean.”

She nodded, her hands slightly shaky as she turned the wheel, the tires squealing lightly.

“Good,” you encouraged. “Now tell me what’s next. What do you see?”

“There’s an on-ramp to the highway coming up,” she said, her voice tight with nerves.

“Perfect. Get on the highway. Blend into traffic and use the cars to block their line of sight.”

“Okay,” she whispered, guiding the car toward the ramp as Aliyah sat rigid in her seat.

“You’re doing great, Jenna,” you said, keeping your voice calm and steady. “Just focus. You’re faster and smarter than them. Trust yourself.”

Jenna weaved into traffic, her grip still tight on the wheel. She glanced in the rearview mirror and tensed. “They’re still back there.”

“Stay calm,” you said. “What’s in your lane? Any big vehicles?”

“Yeah... there’s a semi up ahead,” she replied, her voice rising with nervous energy.

“Good. Get in its blind spot. Use it as cover. When you’re close to an exit, slip off. They’ll have to stay on the highway.”

She exhaled shakily, maneuvering into position as you guided her through. The tension in the car was thick, but she followed your instructions to the letter.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you said softly.

Jenna swerved off the highway, her heart pounding as the pursuing car sped past the exit.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, her voice thick with disbelief.

“You did it, Jenna,” you said, pride clear in your tone.

She let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders finally relaxing. “We did it,” she corrected, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The line went silent for a moment, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. Then, breaking the tension, your voice cut through with a sudden, determined tone.

“Jenna, listen. Can you go home, pack a bag for you and Aliyah, and meet me and Hunter at the mall we went to?”

Jenna’s brow furrowed in confusion. Moments ago, you were adamant about keeping her out of your life, and now you were asking her to pack a bag? She glanced at Aliyah, whose puzzled expression mirrored her own.

Aliyah shrugged dramatically, mouthing, “YOLO.”

“Why?” Jenna asked, her tone cautious.

“I’ll explain everything when we meet. Just trust me and do it, okay?”

Jenna hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but something in your voice made her pause. Finally, she exhaled. “Okay. We’ll meet you there.” And hung up the phone.

“Well, would you look at that—your little lover’s quarrel is finally wrapping up,” Aliyah teased, her grin wide.

“Shut up,” Jenna shot back, though the corners of her lips betrayed her as they curved into a reluctant smile. “I’m still mad at her.”

————

“You two are so confusing,” Hunter chuckled as he drove, his laughter filling the car. “Do you hate each other? Or are you about to jump each other’s bones? Seriously, I can never tell.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but think he had a point.

“So, care to explain why we’re all packing a bag and meeting up with them again?” Hunter asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

“We’re going on a weekend getaway,” you replied nonchalantly.

Hunter’s head whipped toward you, excitement lighting up his face. “No way! I’ve always wanted to do the Bahamas.”

You laughed. “Not the Bahamas, Hunt. Just somewhere a few hours away. After everything that went down—the meeting, the girls being followed—I think it’s smart for all of us to lay low for a few days. I’m not taking any chances.”

Hunter nodded dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was pledging allegiance. “Protecting your girl and your sister-in-law. I respect it.”

Ignoring his teasing, you redirected him. “Just drive us to the garage,” you said firmly. “I need to let Anton know we’ll be out of town for a few days. The last thing I need is him freaking out and sending a search party.”

————

As Hunter pulls into the garage, you take in the sight of the Sinners hard at work, each one laser-focused on their tasks. Was there a race coming up?

Stepping out of the car, your eyes land on Anton at the back, working on a car with Mason. You hadn't seen Mason in a while—not since the Sinner-Viper race nearly two months ago. Not that you missed him; Mason was one of the most aggravating members of the crew. Apparently, Anton in the moment thought so too, judging by the way he was yelling at him for some reason.

"Hey! Long time, no see."

You turned to see Mikey approaching, her brown eyes bright with curiosity.

She tilted her head, eyes scanning both you and Hunter. "So, what have you two been up to?"

"Oh, you know," Hunter chimed in, "just the usual. Saving the day and eating pancakes"

Mikey raised a brow, her skepticism softened by amusement. “Uh-huh. Sounds like you two are living the dream.”

She shifted her attention to you, crossing her arms. “Haven’t seen you around for a few days. No more late nights at the garage?”

You felt a flicker of unease. Something about Mikey always made you cautious, as if she could see right through you. Keeping your tone casual, you rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, the Aston’s finished, so I’m finally catching up on sleep. Not much reason to be here right now.”

Mikey tilted her head, clearly not satisfied with your vague answer. “Really? And here I thought this place was your second home. What’s been keeping you busy?”

Before you could formulate a response, Hunter swooped in. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not slacking off. We’re just gearing up for a little road trip.”

“Road trip?” Mikey repeated, her interest clearly piqued.

Hunter nodded, grinning. “Yeah, figured it’s time for some fresh air and open roads. Recharge the batteries, you know?”

You shot him a subtle glare, but he just winked at you, unfazed.

Mikey narrowed her eyes slightly, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Interesting. Well, have fun with that. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Us? Trouble?” Hunter gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Never.”

"We actually came here to let Anton know we’ll be gone for a couple of days,” you say, flashing Mikey a polite smile. “Catch you later.” Without waiting for a response, you grab Hunter’s arm and drag him along.

“Would it kill you not to spill everything?” you hiss under your breath.

Hunter shrugged, his usual carefree grin firmly in place. “Relax. It’s gonna get out eventually that we’re taking a couple days off. If we act shady, it’ll just make people more suspicious.”

You sighed, shaking your head at his nonchalance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Together, you made your way toward the back of the garage, where Anton and Mason were knee-deep in their latest project.

“I don’t know why I keep you around, Mason,” Anton groaned, his hands dragging down his face in exasperation. “You incompetent fool!”

Hearing your footsteps, he glanced up, his frustration momentarily melting into surprise. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” you greeted, keeping your tone light. “I'm kind of in a rush, but just wanted to let you know Hunter and I are heading out of town for a couple of days. Figured I’d let you know so you don’t worry.”

Anton’s brows furrowed as he straightened up, eyeing the both of you. “Heading out? What for?”

“Just a road trip,” you said casually, shrugging like it was no big deal. “You know, get some fresh air, clear our heads. Nothing major.”

His eyes flicked to Hunter, then back to you, his suspicion barely veiled. “Where to and who’s going?”

"We don't really know yet, wanna see where the road takes us you know? And just us two," you replied smoothly, lying without hesitation.

Anton’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to press harder. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. But something feels off about this, and I don’t like it.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If this is about something dangerous, you better tell me now. You know I’ll have your back.”

You swallowed hard but maintained your composure. “It’s not, I promise. We’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. Anton studied you for a moment longer before nodding, though his concern was evident. "Alright. Just be careful out there, okay? Keep your phones on and don't do anything stupid."

"Got it," you promised, trying to sound reassuring.

Hunter gave Anton a mock salute. "We'll be model citizens, swear."

Anton rolled his eyes but didn't press further. As you turned to leave, Mason chimed in from where he was leaning against the car. "Bring me back something cool! Like a souvenir or somethin'!"

Hunter snorted. "Sure thing, buddy. How about a map so you can finally figure out how to navigate a racetrack without crashing?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you walked away, though Anton's lingering concern weighed heavily in the back of your mind.

————

The SUV you “borrowed” from the garage rumbled along the highway as you adjusted your grip on the wheel, glancing at Hunter slouched comfortably in the passenger seat. Your packed bag sat in the back alongside his, evidence of your brief pit stop at home.

The memory of Anton’s concerned expression lingered, gnawing at you. You hated that you hadn’t told him the truth. He’d lost his father too—same as you—and you knew better than anyone how much that loss shaped him. How much it shaped both of you. But unlike you, Anton didn’t know there was more to the story. That it wasn’t just a tragic accident.

You felt awful for keeping it from him, for standing there and letting him believe everything was fine. But what were you supposed to do? Drop that bombshell and then tell him you were heading out of town for a few days? There was no way he’d have let you leave. No way he wouldn’t try to step in, to get involved.

And as much as it tore you up inside, you couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. Protecting Jenna—and by extension, your fragile alliance with her—had to come first. There was too much at stake, and dragging Anton into it now would only complicate things further. Still, the weight of your silence felt heavier with each passing mile.

“You good?” Hunter’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, though the word felt hollow.

He raised a brow but didn’t push, thankfully. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, letting the conversation from earlier drift back in.

“I gotta admit. I thought Anton would take a lot more convincing.”

Hunter glanced at you with a smirk. “What, you thought he’d put his foot down? He knows you’re stubborn as hell. Probably figured there was no point fighting you on it.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though a part of you wasn’t so sure. Anton letting you go that easily still didn’t sit right. He’d been wary, his words cautious, but ultimately, he hadn’t stopped you. You wondered if he trusted you more than you expected—or if he had reasons of his own for letting you leave.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you shifted the conversation. “By the way, you seemed pretty comfortable with Jenna and Aliyah back at the diner.”

Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re cool. Aliyah’s funny, and Jenna’s… well, Jenna. We were just chatting for a bit before you showed up.”

“Before I showed up?” you echoed, glancing at him skeptically. “She didn’t seem in a chatty mood when I got there.”

Hunter chuckled. “I guess I have that effect on people. Smooth-talker, remember?”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, a memory resurfacing. “Wait. Jenna texted you, didn’t she? How do you even know her?”

Hunter tensed ever so slightly, and you didn’t miss it. “Uh… well…”

The gears in your head were starting to turn. “Hunter,” you pressed, narrowing your eyes. “How do you know Jenna?”

He fidgeted with his hands, clearly stalling. “It’s complicated, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

Before you could demand an answer, the bright lights of the mall parking lot came into view, and you spotted Jenna and Aliyah parked and waiting near the back of the mall. Hunter exhaled dramatically, clearly relieved to be off the hook—for now.

"We're here," he announced unnecessarily, pointing out the obvious.

You rolled your eyes but focused on parking the SUV. As soon as you stepped out, Jenna's sharp gaze locked onto you, her arms crossed, while Aliyah waved with a cheeky grin. Whatever Hunter was hiding would have to wait.

You park the SUV next to their car and step out, heading straight for the trunk. Without a word, you pop it open before turning toward Jenna and Aliyah. Stretching out your hands, you motion for their bags.

Aliyah hands over her duffle bag without hesitation, but Jenna hesitates, squinting at you with suspicion. Her scoff cuts through the quiet as you turn around and load the bags into the trunk.

Following you to the back of the SUV, she crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. "Uhm, are you planning to explain what's going on anytime soon?"

You close the trunk with a sharp thunk and meet her gaze, keeping your tone steady. "I will."

You glance over your shoulder, flashing her a grin. "Oh, and hey—nice work shaking those guys. Not everyone's got those skills. Seriously, you were impressive."

As you turn back to the SUV, Jenna's voice comes softly, almost shyly, "Thanks."

You don't catch it, too focused on adjusting the bags in the trunk, but Aliyah and Hunter exchange knowing looks. Jenna's rare vulnerability wasn't something they saw often, and the faint pink dusting her cheeks didn't go unnoticed either.

————

You merge onto Interstate 5, the highway stretching south through California. The evening sun dips lower on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of gold and fiery orange. Hunter has his window down, one arm draped lazily over the edge, while Aliyah hums along to a faint tune playing on the radio. Jenna sits diagonally across from you, arms crossed, her gaze fixed out the window. The soft pout on her lips and the sharpness of her glare suggest she’s deep in thought—and likely still mad at you.

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, unable to help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Even in her frustration, she looks ridiculously adorable.

As you bring your eyes back to the road, they flicker back to the mirror—and that’s when it happens. Jenna catches your gaze, her sharp brown eyes locking onto yours.

Crap.

She breaks the silence, her tone firm but tinged with curiosity. “Alright, enough stalling. Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

You’re relieved she doesn’t make a snarky comment about catching you staring. Instead, you sigh and focus back on the road, deciding it’s time to answer her question.

“I’m sorry,” you start, glancing briefly at her reflection, then at Aliyah. “To both of you. You were right earlier… about being involved in all this.”

Hunter nods in silent approval from the passenger seat, encouraging you to keep going. “…As much as I don’t want either of you involved,” you continue, catching him facepalming out of the corner of your eye, “there’s no avoiding it now.”

"Neither one of can help it, and that car following you? It kind of put things into perspective for me. So I think the safe option for all of us to get out of town for a few days."

Jenna raises a brow, her expression unreadable, but she doesn’t respond right away. Aliyah and Hunter both glance at each other, waiting for someone to fill the silence. When Jenna finally speaks, her voice is softer than you expected. “Still didn’t answer the question,” she says. “Where are we going?”

You shrug one shoulder, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know,” you admit with a lopsided grin. “I’m just driving.”

Jenna stares at you for a long moment before exhaling and shaking her head. She doesn’t voice the acceptance of your apology, but something in her gaze softens, and you can tell she’s made her peace with it—for now.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’re on the run, and you’re winging it? Great plan, genius.”

Aliyah bursts into laughter, and Hunter cheers, “This is classic! Road trip roulette—who needs a destination when you’ve got vibes?”

Jenna pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something under her breath, but you swear you catch the faintest hint of a smile.

��———

The next hour passes surprisingly smoothly. Everyone keeps themselves entertained in their own way, avoiding any mention of the issues that pushed you all to leave town in the first place. Aliyah has her headphones in, swaying gently to whatever music she’s listening to, while Jenna scrolls through her phone, occasionally glancing out the window. Hunter fiddles with the radio, switching stations until he finds a faintly decent song, only to switch it again moments later.

You keep your focus on the road, but your mind drifts. A part of you wished you could bring back the easy banter you used to have with Jenna—back before you ghosted her. It would've made the drive so much more fun. Instead, there’s this quiet tension hanging in the air between you two, one you’re desperately hoping will dissolve sooner rather than later. At least Hunter agreed to take over driving on the way back. Maybe by then, things between you and Jenna will be better.

Suddenly, Hunter starts humming, his voice cutting through the silence. At first, it’s aimless, but then it takes shape.

“Ninety-nine bottles of milk on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of milk!” he sings loudly, grinning as he looks around at everyone.

You groan. “Oh, no. Don’t.”

Aliyah chuckles behind you, joining in softly, “Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of milk on the wall!”

Jenna sighs dramatically but mutters, “This is so dumb,” just before she jumps in on the next line. Within minutes, the whole car erupts into an awkward yet oddly harmonious singalong, voices overlapping and laughter spilling between verses. By the time you hit ninety-five bottles, everyone’s belting at the top of their lungs.

It’s ridiculous, it’s cheesy, and it’s exactly what you all needed.

When the laughter finally dies down, Jenna clears her throat. “Uh, I need to pee.”

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. Internally, you can’t help but think, Really? We’ve only been on the road for an hour. Did she not go before we left?

But you don’t voice the thought. Instead, you nod, spotting a route stop up ahead. “Alright, we’ll pull over.”

As you exit the highway and roll into the rest stop, Hunter claps your shoulder. “Road trips, man. This is what it’s all about.”

You just shake your head, chuckling as you park the SUV.

————

As everyone steps out at the route stop, the golden light of the setting sun casts long shadows over the parking lot. Hunter stretches dramatically, mumbling something about his aching legs, while Aliyah is already darting toward the brightly lit convenience store, proclaiming her hunt for snacks. Jenna heads to the bathroom, and once she returns she lingers by the SUV, her arms folded, her body language closed.

“Need anything?” you ask, hesitating slightly as you approach her.

She shakes her head but doesn’t look at you. “I’m good.”

You nod, biting back the urge to say more, and join Aliyah and Hunter into the store. The shelves are stocked with everything from bags of chips to questionable gas station sushi.

Hunter immediately gravitates toward the candy aisle, gleefully holding up a pack of gummy worms. “You know you want some,” he teases, tossing a pack at Aliyah, who yelps and tries to dodge.

You chuckle at their antics but can’t help glancing back toward the SUV, wondering if Jenna’s still standing there, or if she’s wandered in.

She hasn’t.

Grabbing a couple of bottled drinks and a bag of chips, you head to the register. Aliyah sidles up beside you, arms full of snacks. “Do you think we should get something for Jenna? She barely ate earlier.”

You hesitate, and recall her eating a chocolate the day you both hung out at the mall and then grab that brand of chocolate from a display near the checkout.

Outside, you find Jenna leaning against the side of the car, scrolling through her phone. You hold out the candy as you approach. “Figured you might want this.”

She glances at it, then at you, her lips twitching like she’s suppressing a thank-you. “Thanks,” she says quietly, taking it without meeting your eyes.

There’s a pause. The others are still inside, their laughter faintly audible from the store. For a moment, it’s just you and Jenna in the fading light.

“You okay?” you ask softly, unsure if you’re even expecting an answer.

She finally meets your gaze, her expression guarded but not unkind. “I’m fine,” she replies, but her tone doesn’t match the words.

You want to push, to ask what’s really on her mind, but something about the way she holds herself stops you. Instead, you nod and step back, giving her space.

She seemed fine interacting with you in the group, she was more vocal. But once it was just you two she got all quiet. But she surprised you with her next words.

She finally glances at you properly, her eyes searching yours. “Thanks, by the way. For this. I know you didn’t have to.”

You swallow, suddenly aware of how close she’s standing. “You don’t have to thank me, Jenna. I just… I want to make sure you’re safe—and your sister!”

She nods faintly, looking down at the ground. For a second, it feels like the rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you under the flickering lights.

Before the moment can stretch too long, Hunter sticks his head out of the car window. “Yo! Are we road-tripping or setting up camp here? Let’s go!”

Jenna chuckles, the tension breaking as she steps back. “Guess we should get going.”

“Yeah.” You push off the SUV, giving her a small nod. “Let’s hit the road.”

As you both climb back into the car, you can’t help but glance at her through the mirror again. She doesn’t notice this time, and you’re glad she doesn’t.

————

"Hey, Y/n, remember the car I was driving yesterday?" Aliyah asks, her voice breaking the comfortable silence that’s fallen over the SUV.

It’s been about two and a half hours since you hit the road, and everyone is busy with their snacks. Conversations drift in and out, short bursts of chatter punctuated by the rustling of wrappers.

You hum softly, urging her to continue.

Aliyah glances at you in the rearview mirror, her tone casual. “It’s pretty cool that you own that car. My dad used to have the same one, and I remember him always going on and on about how rare it was. Small world, huh?” She shrugs, clearly amused by the coincidence.

You and Jenna freeze. For a moment, no one says anything, and the awkward silence hangs in the air like a weight.

You glance at Jenna through the rearview mirror, and she avoids your gaze. Great, you think. Of all the things to come up right now, this had to be it.

“Well…” you clear your throat, deciding Aliyah deserves to know at this point. “That was your dad’s car.”

Aliyah’s brows furrow in confusion. “What? No, his was black.”

“Yeah,” you admit with an awkward laugh, “and then I wrapped it green.”

The realization dawns on her, and she turns to Jenna, her jaw dropping as she whisper yells, “Oh my God! You like the girl who stole Dad’s car?”

Jenna’s eyes widen, and her face flushes. “Aliyah, shut up!” she snaps, but her tone lacks bite.

Aliyah smirks, clearly reveling in her discovery. “I mean, this is peak comedy. She stole Dad’s car, and you’re just fine with it?”

“I’m not fine with it,” Jenna retorts, but her lips curve slightly as if she’s holding back a smile. “And for the record, it was both of us who stole it.”

Aliyah raises her hands in mock surrender. “Oh, so now you’re an accomplice? Love that for you.”

While they bicker in their private conversation, Jenna’s eyes soften, and her gaze turns nostalgic. “That day was insane,” she murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. “We had no idea what we were doing, but it was... kind of thrilling."

Not knowing what the two girls were talking about, you glance at her in the mirror for the millionth time today. Jenna’s smile, faint and genuine, tugs at something deep in your chest, but before you can dwell on it, Hunter’s voice cuts in.

“Well, look at you,” he says with a laugh, nudging your arm. “Stealing the car of the dad of the girl you like. That’s one for the books, huh?”

“Shut up, Hunter,” you groan, shoving his arm off you.

He just grins wider. “Nah, I’m serious. You’ve really outdone yourself here. Romantic and criminal—who knew you had it in you?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back into the seat, but an idea suddenly strikes you. "Alright, since we're all in a sharing mood, how about this—Hunter, how exactly do you and Jenna know each other?" Your tone pointed, almost teasing.

Silence.

Not a word, not even the rustle of snack wrappers from the backseat.

Aliyah breaks the tension, her brows knitting as she glances at her sister. "Wait...what? I thought we both met Hunter this morning?"

You glance in the rearview mirror. Jenna’s expression is stone cold, her face unreadable, like she’s mastered the art of giving away nothing. She doesn’t so much as blink, just stares out the window as though the question didn’t even register.

Hunter, on the other hand, looks like he’s sweating bullets. His hand fidgets with the strap of his seatbelt, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well… you see…”

Before Hunter can dig himself into an even deeper hole, Jenna suddenly bursts out laughing. The sound is so unexpected, so completely jarring after the tension-filled silence, that your head whips around to look at her.

Her laughter is light and melodic, the kind that shakes her shoulders and makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. For a second, you forget about the chaos in the car and just stare.

Her laugh is kind of… cute, you think, catching yourself and quickly looking back at the road before anyone notices.

Jenna waves a hand, her laughter dying down just enough to speak. “Relax, Hunter. Seriously, it’s not a big deal. Go ahead, tell them.”

Aliyah sighs loudly from the backseat, crossing her arms. “Okay, my patience is wearing thin. Someone better spill before I start throwing snacks.”

"Okay fine, you tell them Jenna, since you think it's so funny," Hunter mumbles defeated, shrinking into his seat.

Jenna glances at Hunter, who is clearly trying to become one with his seatbelt. With a small shrug, she answers casually, “I walked in on Hunter… being intimate.”

You blink, nearly missing your next lane change. “Oh, wow. That’s… embarrassing,” you mutter, trying not to laugh. But then your brain starts piecing things together, and you frown. “Wait a second. How does that even happen? Like… was this in public or something? Did you come to Brimstone, or were you—”

Hunter interrupts, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I was in Summer Valley, okay?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, okay. Get that bag, I guess. But, man, from the way you were sweating, I thought it was something really bad.”

For a second, you think the tension has finally lifted. But then Hunter lets out a resigned sigh, muttering, “I was with someone from the Viper's crew.”

It all made sense now, why Hunter was so understanding of the idea of you being affiliated with a Viper—why there was two toothbrushes in his bathroom.

He had his own fucking Viper.

“What the fuck?!” you shout, your voice climbing a whole octave as you instinctively swerve the car.

Hunter grabs the oh-shit handle. “Whoa, whoa, focus! You’re driving, not judging!”

“What the fuck Hunter?!” you yell again, steadying the wheel as the SUV veers slightly back into the lane. Thankfully, it’s almost 8 pm, and the highway is relatively empty, so you narrowly avoid disaster. "You're fucking a Viper?! What the actual—"

Hunter throws up his hands defensively. “What’s the big deal?! You are too!”

You slam the brakes—figuratively, of course—your head whipping around to glare at him. “EXCUSE ME?!”

Your face goes red-hot, and you stammer, “I’m not—what—literally who?! I’m not fucking anybody!”

Hunter smirks, sensing your flustered state. “Oh, sure. But you wish you were fucking a Viper.”

If you thought you couldn’t blush any harder, you were wrong. From the backseat, Aliyah is howling with laughter while Jenna buries her face in her hands, her own ears tinged pink.

“You’re delusional,” you snap at Hunter, but your embarrassment only fuels his laughter. “Seriously, who even—"

“Doesn’t matter!” Hunter interrupts, his grin practically splitting his face. “I’m just saying, don’t judge me when you’ve got your own Viper situation brewing back there.”

“Hunter, I swear—”

Aliyah cuts you off, gasping between giggles. “Oh my God, I can’t breathe. This is the best road trip ever!”

Jenna groans softly, pressing a hand to her forehead, but the small, stupid smile tugging at her lips betrays her. She hated being teased, especially by Aliyah, who had the precision of a sniper when it came to embarrassing her. Yet, as the chaos bubbled in the backseat, Jenna found her thoughts wandering to the things Hunter had been saying to poke at you.

What had you two been talking about? Hunter clearly knew something she didn’t, and now, curiosity gnawed at her despite herself. She glanced at you, watching as you muttered under your breath and tightened your grip on the steering wheel like it might save you. It wasn’t just the teasing; something else was making you squirm, and Jenna couldn’t stop the faint curve of her lips from growing into a fuller smile.

She didn’t know what Hunter was hinting at, but the way your ears burned red and your gaze stayed glued to the road… she couldn’t help but find it a little endearing.

————

The freeway stretched ahead in an endless ribbon of asphalt, swallowed by the inky darkness of night. The faint glow of distant city lights barely pierced the dark sky, leaving only the occasional flash of headlights to illuminate the passing road signs and surrounding emptiness. It was quiet now, except for the hum of the tires against the pavement and the faint sound of Aliyah’s soft snores from the backseat. The earlier chaos had subsided, leaving the SUV calm in stillness.

You glanced over at Hunter, slumped against the window with his head bobbing slightly with the movement of the car. He and Aliyah had devoured the candy earlier like children on Halloween and, predictably, crashed hard. For the last thirty minutes, they’d been completely out, and you were silently grateful for the reprieve. Any more teasing, and you were sure your heart would’ve leapt out of your chest.

Your heart was still pounding, though.

You sigh as you wrestled with a thought you’d been avoiding for a while. You never addressed ghosting Jenna. You mentioned to her at the meeting that you’d talk later, but then you didn’t. And now, things between you were stuck in this strange, awkward limbo. You hated it. You hated the distance and the way your banter had evaporated into stilted exchanges.

More than anything, you wanted this trip to be enjoyable for both of you—for her.

“Hey, Jenna you awake?” you said softly, testing the waters. You knew she was awake. Her breathing wasn’t even enough to fool you. You just needed something to break the ice.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she muttered, her voice low to avoid waking her sister.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands flexing nervously against the steering wheel. Then you took a deep breath and decided to do what needed to be done.

“I just… I want to apologize,” you began, keeping your eyes fixed on the road ahead. “For ghosting you. I know it was shitty, and you didn’t deserve it.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel her eyes on you, listening.

“I… I had a conversation with my mom the first day I didn’t reply to you,” you continued, your voice soft and unsteady. “And it—it messed with my head. I found out my dad wanted out of the Sinners. That completely flipped everything I thought I knew. I was already so confused, and it just made things worse. And then…” You paused, forcing yourself to push through the lump in your throat. “It made me feel terrified. Of everything. Of this whole situation. And of you. Of what you made me feel—what I felt for—”

You clamped your mouth shut, cutting yourself off realizing you spilled too much. Your mind was already coming up with excuses for what you meant by what you made me feel. Heat crawled up your neck, your knuckles stark white against the dim light from the dashboard. You scrambled internally for a way to gloss over your slip-up, but the words weren’t coming.

“I’m not trying to excuse what I did,” you said after a beat. “There’s no excuse for it. I just wanted to explain, to tell you why I acted the way I did. And to say I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

She's not saying anything. The silence stretched uncomfortably, and you risked a quick glance in her direction, her expression unreadable in the faint glow of the passing headlights.

Panic began to claw at your chest.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you blurted out, your words rushing now. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know what I did was shitty, and I know I have no right to expect forgiveness—”

"I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Greaser."

Greaser.

You smile.

And that was all she said until Hunter and Aliyah awoken from their slumber twenty minutes later. But it was enough.

————

"Damn, how long was I out?" Hunter grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted in his seat.

Aliyah stretched with an exaggerated groan, yawning as if she'd been asleep for days.

"Only about forty minutes," you replied, glancing at them. The weight in your chest felt lighter after your moment with Jenna, but a part of you braced for the teasing chaos that might erupt now that they were awake.

Aliyah groaned dramatically. "Ugh, I was hoping the driving part would be over when I woke up. Are we seriously just gonna spend days cooped up in this car?"

"We’ve only been driving for like three hours," Hunter pointed out with a shrug.

"And that’s not far enough?" Aliyah raised a brow.

Hunter nodded, turning his gaze to you. "She’s got a point, you know."

"...I have a suggestion." Aliyah finally says.

"Shoot," you encourage her.

She leaned forward slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she looked at Jenna. "How about we visit Markus? We’re probably close to him already."

Jenna’s face lit up instantly, her smile matching her sister’s excitement. "That would be amazing, Ali, but… are we really gonna risk leading trouble straight to him?"

Aliyah waved the concern off with a dismissive hand. "Come on, you really think those bad guys are gonna follow us all the way to LA?"

While the sisters debated, you leaned toward Hunter, lowering your voice. "Who the fuck is Markus?"

Hunter smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What’s the matter? You jealous?"

"What? No!" you snapped, scoffing like the idea was ridiculous. But your mind betrayed you, lingering on Jenna’s radiant smile. Who was this guy, and why did she look so happy talking about him?

The sisters’ conversation quieten down, and Aliyah finally addresses you, her grin still firmly in place. "Y/n, how does a trip to UCLA sound?"

Taglist: @godamnityess @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88

@101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

@cobaltperun

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itsnotyouithink · 2 months ago

Text

Coffee and Wet Tees

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader/OC

word count: 8.5k

warnings: slight smut, lots of vulgar language, idk how to write

Today was like any other day—if any other day meant walking the streets of LA, trying your best to get your long (short, 5’1”) legs from your apartment to the coffee shop where your besties, Mark and Sarah, had been waiting for the past twenty minutes. Why am I twenty—more like thirty— minutes late, you ask? Well, let’s rewind about fifteen minutes, when I was only five—okay, ten— minutes past our meeting time.

I was casually strolling through the streets, headphones in, avoiding eye contact and people in general, quietly singing along to the best song ever—Naked in Manhattan. My world was chill, until this tiny tornado of a human being, who somehow was even shorter than me, ran smack into me. Her coffee splashed everywhere, freezing me in my tracks.

I looked down at my now-soaked shirt. Then up at her. Then back down at my shirt. Finally, up at her again. What else could I say?

“I didn’t know we were doing a wet tee-shirt competition today,” I said, deadpan.

“Oh my god, I’m—I’m so, so sorry!” she stammered, her hands fluttering around as if she could magically undo the mess.

And yeah, sure, I could’ve been pissed. This was one of my favorite shirts. It was just a plain white tee, but it fit like a dream, which is rare when you’ve got no boobs and stand at a solid 5’1”. But instead of yelling, all I could do was stand there with my nipples now hard as diamonds from the sudden chill, looking back down, then up again.

“Oh my god, no, I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t mildly panicking. It was my way of saying, watch it, asshole, but y’know, politely. You just had to squint a little to hear that part.

She shook her head, her cheeks flushing beneath a pair of oversized sunglasses. “No, I should be apologizing. I’m so sorry. Here, uhm…” She started taking off her cardigan, and as she did, I took a second to study her face. She looked… familiar. Like, really familiar.

Before I could figure out why, she handed me the cardigan.

“Here, take this. You’ll get cold,” she said, offering it like some sort of peace offering. I hesitated for a second, before accepting it. Freezing nipples weren’t exactly part of today’s look.

“Uh, thanks,” I muttered, slipping it on. The fabric was soft, expensive. It even smelled expensive— like vanilla and something woody. She smiled a little awkwardly, her dimples flashing. Dimples that were too cute to ignore.

Wait. Where do I know her from?

But instead of figuring it out, we both just stood there for a second too long, awkward energy radiating between us.

“Well, I’m kind of running late…” I started, clearing my throat.

“Oh! Right, yeah. Okay. I’m really sorry again,” she said, her voice full of genuine apology. She gave me this sheepish smile, and I couldn’t help but notice how damn charming she looked, even behind those sunglasses.

“Don’t worry about it. And thanks for the sweater,” I replied, offering a half-smile.

“Keep it, it’s the least I could do.” She gave a small wave, and before I could say anything else, she turned left and started walking away.

I watched her go, my mind still swirling. Why does she look so familiar?

But I didn’t have time to stand around wondering, so I turned right and headed to the café, now power-walking like I was in the freaking Olympics. That’s how I ended up racing to this dumb café that was probably going to charge me ungodly prices for mediocre coffee that’ll just make me want to die. But of course, I’d end up tipping 120% because the cashier smiled at me. Curse being gay.

Once I got to the café, Mark and Sarah were already deep in their usual debate. I slid into the seat next to them like I’d just stepped out for a quick bathroom break. Honestly, they were so wrapped up in their conversation, I doubted they even noticed I’d arrived.

“No way in hell do you seriously think Camila ‘does she get this wet for you’ Cabello—oh hey, Bella— is better than Sabrina?!” Mark slipped in that casual greeting as if he hadn’t just dropped the most chaotic lyric of the century.

“Uh, yeah,” Sarah shot back, “way better than that blonde bitch who couldn’t even hold a gay man down.”

I snorted. “What the hell are you guys even talking about?”

They finally turned to me, blinking as if they’d only just realized I was sitting there.

“Bella,” Mark said, all serious now, “Sabrina or Camila?”

“Neither,” I replied dreamily. “Chappell. Obviously.” What a woman.

“You’re useless,” Sarah muttered, rolling her eyes. I smirked. Duh, it’s in the name—useless lesbian.

“And what the hell happened to your shirt?”

“Oh, this little thing?” I gestured to my now-dried, stained tee. “The love of my life wanted to wish me luck on my long journey here… by giving me her coffee.”

“By spilling it all over you?”

“Through osmosis.” I shot back.

“Love of your life??”

“Yeah,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “She was so cute. I couldn’t really see her face, but she had these adorable dimples and freckles.” I sighed again, even more dramatically this time. I love being gay.

“So… you’re all set on your coffee fix then?” Sarah asked, deadpan.

“Yup,” I said with a grin. “I’m good.”

“You’re an idiot,” she replied, shaking her head. I rolled my eyes but smiled. This was routine.

“Nothing’s ruining my day, though. Ask me why.”

“Why?”

“I get to work with Jenna Ortega,” I whispered her name reverently, “tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?!”

“When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“I did tell you, but you two were too busy planning your Coachella outfits to actually listen to me.” I shrugged, acting all nonchalant. “Bitches.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “So what do you mean ‘work with her’?”

“I’m interviewing her for the Beetlejuice Beetlejuice press tour.” I leaned back, savoring the moment.

“O. M. G. I’m so jealous. I bet she smells amazing,” Sarah said, her eyes wide with faux reverence.

“Creep,” I muttered, but honestly, I was thinking the same thing. I bet she smelled just like this cardigan—expensive, light, like a cool breeze with a hint of sandalwood.

“Sorry, not sorry,” Sarah shrugged, unapologetic.

“So, what are you going to ask her?” Mark chimed in, looking genuinely curious.

“Is she gay? Does she have a girlfriend? And will she marry me?” I deadpanned, holding up my fingers like it was the obvious move.

��You dumb bitch.” Sarah snorted. HA, sorry, I’m gay.

“Okay, okay, jk, jk,” I said, waving it off. “I’ve just got some boring generic questions Lisa prepped for me. Y’know, the usual—what was it like preparing for the role, how did she connect to the character, blah blah blah. She’s probably heard them so many times she could hand out pre-written index cards with her answers.”

We all laughed, but my mind kept drifting back to coffee girl. Where had I seen her before? Why did she smell so good? And what were the chances I’d get to see those adorable dimples again?

“Earth to gay bitch,” Sarah’s voice cut through my daydream.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Mark asked if you were ready to head out,” she said, smirking like she knew exactly where my brain had been wandering.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” I quickly grabbed my bag, glancing back at the barista—still cute—and left a Benjamin on the table before we all stood to leave.

Later that night, with Mark and Sarah passed out in the guest room, I stood in front of the mirror, making sure my outfit for tomorrow would be nothing short of perfect. Jenna’s stylist, Enrique— bless that man—had been dressing her in these Beetlejuice-inspired looks. So, obviously, I had to show up with a little… inspiration of my own.

And with this body? The outfit was tea. I had on a pinstriped shirt that was giving office siren, paired with matching trousers that made my waist look snatched. Finishing it all off with a pair of Kate’s. What did Rihanna say again? I forget, but the outfit was definitely outfitting.

I struck a few poses, turned this way and that in the mirror, and after about a hundred selfies, I finally shed the clothes and made my way to bed.

For half a second, I debated shaving—like a teenage girl getting ready for a 1-D concert.

As I settled under the covers, my mind wandered back to coffee girl. Those cute freckles that spanned her face, the smell of her sweater, the softness of her voice. Who the hell was she? My brain tried to place her, but nothing clicked. Eh, whatever. This was LA—odds were good I’d bump into her again.

I closed my eyes, her dimples still lingering in my thoughts as sleep finally pulled me under.

You know that feeling when you’re exhausted but can’t sleep because tomorrow’s the first day of school? That’s exactly how I slept—in and out, not really sure if I was dreaming or hallucinating. But somehow, I woke up energized, ready to take on the day.

As I do every morning, I spent the first hour of my day scrolling through TikTok, laughing at the insane content that pops up on my feed, and burning through whatever brain cells I had left.

Finally, I opened the group chat with Mark and Sarah:

Mark: Bitch wake the fuck up.

Sarah: Hoe get up.

Mark: Is this bitch still asleep?

Bella: no bitches i been up

Sarah: Me when I lie.

Yep. That was us—three idiots who would blindly, but gladly follow each other off a cliff. And I loved them for it.

I finally mustered up the willpower to get out of bed and face the cruel world, dragging myself to the bathroom to start getting ready. A few hours later—closer to three, if we’re being honest—I was fully dressed and ready for my big break. I was going to charm their pants off.

Walking through the heavy double doors of the studio, my anxiety kicked in, the kind that creeps up on you at the worst moment. I headed to the front desk, flashed my press credentials at the receptionist, and she pointed me toward the interview room.

“I love your outfit, by the way,” she said with a friendly smile.

Internally, I flipped my hair. I know. “Oh, uh, thank you!” I managed, looking down shyly as a blush crept up.

Cursing myself as I walked away, I took a deep breath. I am not nervous. I, Bella Martinez, do not get nervous. I glanced at my phone—11:29. Right on time.

Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, I took another breath, threw on my best smile, and opened the door.

Charm their pants off, I repeated to myself. But as soon as I locked eyes with the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen, gay panic was what I got. For a split second, I thought I saw surprise flash across her face, but I was too busy staring at her face to really process it. Pick up your jaw, Bella.

When I’d finally finished imagining our wedding in my head, I plastered on a polite smile and looked toward Catherine O’Hara and Winona Ryder. Right. They’re here too. Clearing my throat, I tried again, gathering every ounce of professionalism I had left.

“Hello, everyone,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. “It’s so nice to meet you all.” Why did I sound like a straight-up valley girl? Jenna gave me a quick once-over. Oh God, does she hate me already?

I walked closer and extended my hand. “I’m Bella,” I introduced myself.

First, Winona. “Winona,” she said warmly, shaking my hand.

Next up was Catherine. “Catherine,” she said, giving me a firm handshake.

And then it was Jenna. My heart practically leapt out of my chest as I stepped toward her. Her smile was small, unreadable, and I could feel my pulse in my throat. She extended her hand. Please don’t be clammy. Please don’t be clammy.

“Jenna,” she said, her voice soft but cool. Her hand was cold, but it sent a spark of something through me.

“Bella,” I stammered, almost forgetting my own name. “Nice to meet you.” I glanced nervously from her to Winona and Catherine, hoping I didn’t look like I was about to pass out.

I took a step back, finally putting a little distance between me and the human heart attack in front of me. Okay. Time to sit down and act like a professional.

As I went to sit in my chair, praying I didn’t miss it, I realized everyone was waiting for me to say something. Oh right. I had to actually talk.

“First off, you ladies look absolutely stunning,” I said, trying to channel my inner smooth operator.

“Oh my goodness, so do you!” Winona said with a bright smile.

“Yeah, you’re really on theme here, aren’t ya?” Catherine added, her voice dripping with playful charm.

I nearly melted on the spot but managed to joke back, “Oh, this? Just grabbed the first thing in my closet,” waving it off like it wasn’t a carefully planned outfit I spent hours obsessing over.

Jenna hadn’t said much yet, and my anxiety began to creep back in. Does she think I’m weird? Or worse, a creep? I glanced at her, but she just smiled again, that same small, unreadable expression that made my heart race.

Clearing my throat, I shuffled the cards in my hands, ready to fire off the same set of questions they’d already been asked about a dozen times before. But for some reason, I felt compelled to say something else first. Something that had been sitting at the back of my mind.

“And before we start,” I began, glancing over at Jenna with nothing but sincerity, “I just want to say —you are Latina enough.”

There was a flicker of something on her face—surprise, maybe?

Winona and Catherine both let out soft, “Aww’s,” at the moment, and Jenna shifted in her seat. Her face now scrunched up with gratitude.

“Can I—” she started, and before I could even register what was happening, she was standing up.

Instinctively, I stood up too, though I had no idea why or what was coming next. Then she stepped closer, and I realized—oh God—she was going for a hug. God, kill me now.

“Yeah, of course!” I said quickly, trying to act casual as she wrapped her arms around me. Her hold was warm and soft, and it lingered just a little longer than it should have for two people who had just met. I awkwardly encircled her back, trying not to completely short-circuit.

Please, if you’re up there, strike me down right now.

As she pulled away, though, I caught it. A scent. Something so familiar it sent my brain into overdrive. Wait—why does she smell like—? But I didn’t have time to dwell on it because all my focus had to go toward making sure my legs didn’t give out from under me.

And, because I’m a disaster, I blurted out, “You smell really nice.” Seriously, just burn me to a crisp.

Jenna chuckled softly, “Thank you… it’s Dior.”

Rich. “Oh, fancy,” I replied, trying to play it cool as we sat back down.

I forced myself to focus as I moved through the questions, reading off the cards and trying not to trip over my own words. Meanwhile, Jenna answered with this effortless grace, while I was still over here trying to recover from that hug. It lingered in my mind, like a warm imprint I couldn’t shake.

After we’d gone through the standard questions and were about to wrap up, I remembered Lisa’s genius idea.

“Okay, these aren’t questions, but before we finish, I thought we could play a little game.” I smiled, but inside I was screaming.

“Ohhh!” They all said in unison. I’m sure it was out of politeness, not actual excitement. Dammit, Lisa.

“So,” I continued, trying to sound confident, “since Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a sequel and we’re working with a 30-year time gap, I thought it’d be fun to play a game where we take slang words and phrases from back then and translate them into today’s slang!”

They all nodded along, intrigued but clearly not quite sure where this was going.

“For example,” I said, warming up, “the word fly. Back then, it meant cool or stylish. What would we say today?”

Jenna thought for a second, then smiled. “Dope.”

Catherine raised her hand like she was buzzing in on a game show. “I’d say fire.”

“Exactly!” I said, grinning. “See, you’ve got it.”

I glanced down at my cards. “Alright, next one—rad. What’s the modern equivalent of that?”

Winona leaned forward. “I’m going with lit.”

Catherine laughed. “Oh, definitely sick.”

Jenna nodded, clearly enjoying herself. “Yeah, lit feels right for that.”

“Alright,” I said, feeling more confident now. “How about bogus? That one was used for something unfair or ridiculous.”

Catherine jumped in right away. “That’s whack these days, right?”

Winona nodded, adding, “Or just trash.”

“Right!” I said, laughing along. “Trash works. Okay, last one—gnarly. It could be used for anything extreme or intense, good or bad.”

Jenna smiled, clearly thinking it over. “That’s got to be wild now, right?”

Winona tilted her head. “I’d say epic.”

Catherine grinned. “I still use gnarly, so I’m keeping that one.”

We all laughed, and I nodded. “Fair enough. Some words just never go out of style.”

Apparently, I was the last one to interview them, so once we wrapped, we all gathered our things and prepared to leave.

“Thank you all so much again,” I said, offering one last smile. “And congrats on the movie.”

We exchanged goodbyes. My eyes lingered on Jenna a little longer than they should have. They were already back in their own bubble, talking amongst themselves. I waved and thanked the crew on my way out, feeling both relieved and weirdly energized.

As soon as I stepped away, the overthinking hit me like a freight train. How dumb did I sound? Did I ramble? I couldn’t wait to watch the video and cringe at all my awkward moments. I headed for the bathroom—figured my clammy hands weren’t going to fix themselves.

Sitting in the stall, I pressed my hands to my face, replaying every second of the interview. I must’ve sounded so stupid. The edits were going to be hard to watch, I already know it.

The sound of a toilet flushing snapped me out of my spiral. Crap. I’ve been in here too long. I didn’t want whoever was out there thinking I’d been in here for a number two situation. Flushing for good measure, I walked out to wash my still-clammy hands.

As I looked up into the mirror, my stomach dropped. Jenna. Of course.

She was at the sink, washing her hands too. Her lips curved slightly, not like the polite, unreadable smile from earlier, but something… different. Something more playful. My heart kicked into overdrive. The interview was over; she didn’t have to talk to me now. So I smiled back, awkwardly, and we washed our hands in silence.

Except it didn’t really feel silent. The air between us buzzed with something unspoken. I could feel her eyes on me, watching. Glancing back up at the mirror, I caught her staring. Her gaze traveled up and down, lingering just a little too long. Was she—no. No way. Was she checking me out? Get a grip, Bella. She probably thinks the outfit was too much.

But there was something in her eyes, a glint I couldn’t quite place. Something that felt… deliberate.

Jenna turned toward me fully now, her movements smooth and unhurried as she shut off the water. “Hello again,” she said, her voice low, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Bella.” She remembered my name.

I fumbled with the faucet, shutting off the water far less gracefully than she had. “Hi,” I managed, clearing my throat. “Uh, hi, Jenna.”

She didn’t say anything right away, just watched me, her gaze steady and calm, like she was waiting for something. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. More like anticipation. And then —

She took a step toward me. Slow, deliberate.

My heart lurched in my chest. I chuckled nervously, instinctively taking a step back, but there was nowhere to go. My back hit the sink. I could feel the heat rising in my face, my pulse in my throat. This cannot be happening.

Jenna’s eyes never left mine as she moved closer, each step deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. There was something about the way she moved—confident, like she was in total control of the moment. I couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped me. This looked like the start of a porno.

She stopped right in front of me, so close that there was barely an inch between us. My breath caught. She reached up, her fingers brushing against the lapel of my shirt, playing with it lightly.

“I like this shirt,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on mine. “You look really good in it.”

My mind went blank. Thank you, gods, for not killing me. Or maybe they had, because surely this was heaven. There was no way in hell this was real.

I could feel her knuckles grazing my collar, her touch sending sparks across my skin. Heat rushed through me, pooling in my stomach. “Oh. Uhm. Thank you,” I managed, my voice shakier than I’d like. She was so close. If I leaned forward just a little, we’d be pressed together, hip to hip.

Her gaze flickered down to my lips for the briefest second, then back to my eyes. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating. My heart pounded so loud I was sure she could hear it. Her hand lingered at the collar of my shirt, the heat from her touch spreading through me like wildfire.

Jenna’s smirk deepened, her fingers brushing against the fabric one last time before she stepped back, the space between us suddenly feeling too big.

“See you around, Bella,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, like she knew exactly what she’d done.

I blinked, still reeling, trying to catch my breath as she turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there, hands shaking, pulse racing.

Okay. Definitely not a hallucination.

“BITCHES, YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!”

I was in my car now, somehow having blacked out and crawled my way there after the whole bathroom incident. Mark and Sarah were on FaceTime, both looking startled by my outburst.

“Bitch, what?!”

“This better be good—I was watching Love Island,” Sarah grumbled, but even she was intrigued.

How was I even supposed to explain what had just transpired? “So basically… Jenna Ortega almost fucked me in the bathroom.”

“WHAT?!” they both screamed in unison, their faces now a mix of shock and disbelief.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Yes! But also no,” I started, struggling to gather my thoughts. “Okay, so I was in the bathroom, minding my own business, and next thing I know, Jenna was there and she had me cornered—”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Yeah! She was touching me—well, okay, she was touching my shirt, but she was basically on me!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“I KNOW! And she said she liked my shirt. Like, she literally said, ‘You look really good in it.’”

Sarah clutched her chest dramatically. “Are you serious? Did you pass out?!”

“I almost did!” I said, half laughing, half panicking again as I relived the moment. “I’m telling you, it was like something out of a fanfic! She was right there, smirking, touching my shirt like it was nothing!”

Mark screamed into the phone. “You have to tell us everything—what else happened?! Did she—”

“No, no, she just… she complimented me, said I looked good, and then she walked away! Like she didn’t just almost send me into cardiac arrest.”

Sarah let out a long breath. “I… I have no words. You win. You officially win at life.”

Now back at home, I sat on the couch, staring into the abyss. Someone must have drugged me. That whole bathroom thing could not have happened. There was no way. Maybe I was losing it. What are the early signs of dementia? Because I was definitely showing them.

I seriously needed to get off TikTok. I would never stay up past 10 p.m. again. This was it. I was officially broken. As I mentally prepared to admit myself to some kind of facility, my phone rang. Another call from the freaks.

“Bel, bitch, we’re going out tonight.”

“I can’t,” I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch.

“Why not?”

“I need sleep. I think I’m going crazy.”

“No, this is fate. We always knew you were destined for greater things.”

“Yeah, destined for death by gay.” I quipped back.

“You’re dramatic… Anyway, pregame at your place?”

I sighed, figuring that going out might at least give me a temporary distraction from the ongoing Jenna-induced breakdown. But even then, I could still feel where she’d touched me, like a burn, scorched into my skin.

“Yeah, sure. Pregame here,” I said, defeated.

“Where are we going?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“WeHo, duh,” Mark said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, yeah, we were all raging homos, but maybe this time they’d suggest something different. Honestly, I’m reconsidering it. Being gay has brought me nothing but hardship.

“Fine, fine. Meet at 8?”

“Yasss! I’ll bring the drinks.”

By the time 8 rolled around, I had already watched at least seven different edits of the interview I did earlier. Thirsty bitches, I thought, scrolling through. Most of the edits were Jenna-focused, of course, but some included me awkwardly standing in the background. Sarah had sent a few to me with a text demanding, “LOOK AT THE COMMENTS, BITCH!”

I opened one of the videos and scrolled down to check the replies, fully expecting everyone to be drooling over Jenna—which, yeah, totally valid. But to my surprise, some of the comments were… about me.

Comment Section:

who’s the interviewer tho,,, why she kinda fine ok but the interviewer lowkey cute Jenna’s over here being hot as hell, but the interviewer�� Can someone drop @ of the interviewer like now pls Does anyone else think she looks nervous af but in a hot way? the interviewer is literally all of us trying not to pass out that awkward girl energy is hitting omg the interviewer blushing for real, how cute is that nah but the way Jenna looked at her, excuse me what’s happening here wait… Jenna Ortega literally couldn’t stop staring at her. I’m not imagining this, right???

I blinked at the screen, scrolling through the comments in disbelief. Me? Cute? Okay, maybe not full- on delusional yet. My phone buzzed again, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Mark: “Bitch, we’re 5 minutes away! Get ready to party!”

I took a deep breath, setting my phone aside. Alright. Maybe I was fine. Probably fine.

But as I stood in front of the mirror, touching the spot where Jenna had brushed my lapel, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight might just be even crazier than the day I’d had.

“Okay, but why aren’t we drunk yet? Let’s go, hoes!” Sarah declared, marching forward with determination.

I hung back for a second, laughing at the absurdity of the day. It had already been ridiculous, and knowing my luck, things were only going to get more chaotic.

Once we finally made it past the lines (seriously, these lines), we headed straight for the bar. As usual, I was nominated to get the drinks because, according to Mark and Sarah, it made perfect sense for the shortest person to try and flag down the bartender. Genius.

After what felt like an eternity of trying to get someone’s attention, we finally placed our order.

Sarah magically appeared next to me just as the bartender started pouring.

“Bella,” she said with a grin, “looks like you’ve got a fan.”

I blinked. “What?”

She tilted her chin toward the other end of the bar. I followed her gaze to a brunette, about my height, maybe a bit taller. And, of course, she was gorgeous.

“What are you waiting for? Buy her a drink!” Sarah nudged me, like this was the easiest thing in the world.

“What! No, she’s probably looking at someone else,” I muttered, turning my back to the girl, but Sarah kept watching.

“Dude, I’m literally looking at her right now, and she’s definitely got her eyes on you.”

I sighed. Why does the world hate me? Talking to women was so easy in my head. Theoretically. In real life? A total disaster waiting to happen.

“Okay, fine. But if she’s straight, I’m punching you.”

“Bells, we’re in a gay club.”

“That’s never stopped the heteros.”

But, drink in hand, I made my way over to her, trying to saunter but more likely wobbling in my attempt to seem smooth.

“Hey,” I croaked, my voice cracking just slightly. Hopefully the music was loud enough to cover it.

The girl smiled at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can I buy you a drink?” I offered, doing my best to sound like I had my shit together.

“Only if you give me your name first,” she said, leaning in closer.

“Oh, uh, right. I’m Bella.” I stuck out my hand, instantly regretting how awkward that was, but she looked down at it with a smirk before taking it, her touch warm and soft—a stark contrast to the cold hands I’d shaken earlier.

“Bella,” she repeated, like she was testing it out. “I’m Alex.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I said, feeling a small surge of confidence. “So, what can I get you?”

“Surprise me.”

I took a sip of my drink, then nudged it toward her. She raised an eyebrow but took a sip anyway.

“You like?” I asked, trying to play it cool.

She smiled and nodded, so I waved down the bartender and ordered another.

“So, Bella,” Alex began, leaning in again, “are you going for Beetlejuice, or…?”

I laughed for real this time, feeling the tension ease. “Yeah, I am actually. Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe a little,” she teased. “But it’s cute. You’re cute.”

Her words hung in the air as she leaned in just a little closer, and I could feel the warmth of her breath against my cheek. But before I could respond, I felt a slight nudge from behind me.

I turned my head quickly to see who it was and—no fucking way. Standing behind me, smirking the same way she had back in the bathroom, was Jenna.

I stared at her, wide-eyed, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of nowhere and tell me I’d been punk’d. But no, this was real. She was here.

We stared at each other until—right—Alex. She cleared her throat, snapping me back to reality. I smiled awkwardly at Jenna before turning around to face Alex again. But before I could even begin to apologize, I felt Jenna tap me on the shoulder once more. Fuck. Now I was stuck, sandwiched between two goddesses with no idea where to look or who to pay attention to.

Jenna spoke first. “Bella. Hello again.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Alex beat me to it. “You two know each other?” she asked, looking between us. I guess she hadn’t yet recognized the girl who was literally plastered everywhere. I turned to her and nodded, words completely escaping me.

Jenna stepped in smoothly. “We do, and she was just about to buy me a drink.” She smiled, her voice sweet but loaded with subtext.

I was?

“That’s funny,” Alex shot back, not missing a beat. “Because she just bought me a drink.”

Jenna’s smirk didn’t waver. “Great. Now you can leave.”

What the fuck was happening and where are the cameras?

Alex looked at me, clearly expecting me to say something, but all I could do was blink like an idiot. “Whatever,” she muttered, grabbing her drink and walking away with a huff.

I turned back to Jenna, who was now standing there with her full attention on me, that same playful smirk still on her face. “Jenna. Hi,” I managed, my voice betraying me. Smooth, Bella. “What— what’re you doing… here?”

“At the club?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded dumbly. Yeah, Bella, because it’s so weird for someone to be at a club on a Friday night.

She chuckled softly. “I’m here with a couple of friends. But then I saw you and… couldn’t resist.”

I gulped audibly, like something out of a cartoon. Did someone roofie me? There was no way this was actually happening.

“Oh, that’s… cool, me too,” I said, my voice pathetically small. Jenna didn’t respond right away. She just kept that smirk on her face, like she knew exactly how much she was unraveling me from the inside.

“So, what can I get you?” I offered, trying to steady myself.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she hooked her finger under my vest, tugging me closer until there was barely any space between us. Her finger lingered there, a light touch that burned through the fabric.

“Take a shot with me?” she asked, her voice low and smooth.

I could only nod, completely under her spell. Somehow, through my haze, I managed to flag down the bartender. How is no one noticing that Jenna Ortega is standing in the middle of this bar?

The tequila shots arrived, and we clinked our glasses together. I threw mine back, the liquid burning down my throat, and fought hard to suppress a cough. A little lime juice dribbled down my chin, and before I could even wipe it away, Jenna was leaning in, impossibly close.

Her thumb brushed across my chin, catching the drip. She didn’t break eye contact as she sucked her thumb, her eyes dark and unreadable. My breath hitched, the heat from her touch spreading through me like wildfire. My skin prickled, my heart raced, and I felt a heady swirl of dizziness.

Jenna didn’t wait. She grabbed my wrist, leading me through the crowd toward the back of the club. My heart was pounding, and I felt like my legs might give out. We reached a shadowy corner, and before I could even register what was happening, she pushed me gently against the wall, her body so close to mine I could feel the heat radiating off her.

She looked at me, her eyes wide, innocent but with an unmistakable intensity. Doe-eyed yet impossibly seductive all at once. Her gaze locked onto mine, and the air between us thickened, heavy with tension.

Without a word, she leaned in, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that sent electricity shooting through every nerve in my body.

My body reacted before my brain could even process what was happening. I kissed her back, just as needy, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her hands were firm on my waist, grounding me, but at the same time, setting every nerve in my body on fire. The kiss deepened, her lips soft but urgent, and I could feel her hands climbing higher, her fingers grazing the bare skin of my hip. I fought the shudder threatening to take over, desperate not to break the contact.

This is real, I thought, my mind spinning. I’d dreamed about this, fantasized about what it would feel like to have her like this. And now that it was actually happening, I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

But Jenna—like she could read my mind—took control, as if she’d ever lost it to begin with. She shifted, her lips leaving mine to trail slowly down my jaw, pressing warm, sloppy kisses along my neck, each one lingering just enough to send heat flooding through me. I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself steady, but when her lips brushed just under my ear, her breath hot and teasing, a jolt of electricity shot straight down my spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since you walked into that room,” she whispered, her voice low, sending another wave of heat through me.

At her words, I couldn’t hold back the soft sound that escaped my throat, and from the way her lips curled into a smile against my skin, she clearly didn’t mind.

“You sound so pretty,” she murmured, her voice coaxing more out of me. “I could barely focus during that interview.” God—how was I supposed to stay upright when she was saying things like that?

“All I could think about was your lips,” she added, leaning back in to kiss me again, slower this time, like she was savoring every second. “And how good you looked.” Her hand slid up under my vest, the heat of her skin on mine making me shiver. “And how badly I wanted to touch you.”

Before I could respond, she nudged her thigh between mine, and I couldn’t help it—the moan escaped before I even realized it. She pressed against me, her thigh firm between my legs, and our eyes locked, both of us breathless.

“I’ve…” I started, my voice shaky as I finally managed to get words out between the gasps. “I’ve thought about this… like way too many times.”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, and she leaned in again, brushing her lips against mine before pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. “Good.”

After that, it was a flurry of kisses—needy, urgent—hands grabbing, tugging at clothes, lingering touches that left a trail of fire along my skin. We barely made it into the Uber. I fired off a quick text to Mark and Sarah, but there was no time to wait for a reply. Jenna’s hand was already on my thigh, pulling my attention away from my phone, her dark eyes locking onto mine, a silent challenge between us.

I glanced at her, then back at the driver. Seriously, how has no one managed to notice Jenna freaking Ortega?

I took her hand, squeezing it as if to calm the electricity sparking between us. But even as I tried to keep things under control, her fingers wandered higher, slipping beneath the hem of my skirt. It was impossible not to react as her touch moved closer to lace, heat flooding my body with each inch she closed.

“Jenna,” I whispered, breathless, halfheartedly trying to stop her while silently hoping she wouldn’t. Her fingers teased, exploring in the brief moments we had, while I checked my phone. Two minutes until we arrived. Those were the longest two minutes of my life.

The second the car stopped, I barely waited for the wheels to still before we jumped out, breathless and laughing, thanking the driver before nearly sprinting to my door. My hands shook as I fumbled with my keys, trying not to drop them in the excitement.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Jenna pushed me against it, hard. But this time, there was no need for caution, no one around to interrupt us. The tension exploded between us as we crashed together, her body pressing into mine, forcing me back with every kiss, every touch.

Her hands moved in a frenzy, tugging at the waistband of my skirt, fingers tangling in my hair as she pulled my head back, making me gasp. The sound escaped me, raw and uncontrolled, as her lips traced down the curve of my neck, slow, deliberate. Each kiss left a mark, each touch igniting my skin until I was trembling beneath her.

She kissed her way down, lower and lower, until she reached my chest, her mouth hot against my skin. I was lost in the feeling of her—until it stopped. Blinking, I looked down to see her staring up at me, her eyes burning with something wild, intense.

“I’ve been wanting to do this,” she murmured, her fingers working at the buttons of my vest, slowly, one by one, freeing me.

She inhaled sharply when the fabric fell away, revealing me. The way her eyes darkened sent a surge of confidence through me. I pulled her up, needing to feel her lips on mine again, kissing her harder this time, more sure of myself. I nipped at her bottom lip, just hard enough to make her hiss. But she only smirked, the heat between us intensifying as she leaned back in.

It was a game—a struggle to see who could undress the other first, hands pulling at buttons and zippers, skin brushing skin. We moved together in sync, never breaking contact as we stumbled toward my room. The alcohol still buzzed faintly in my veins, but I was no longer drunk. No, I was completely, vividly aware of every single moment.

Once we reached my bed, there was no need for words. It was a silent agreement, a connection that needed no explanation. The rest of the night unfolded like a rhythm, a dance between our bodies, guided by soft sighs and the steady beat of the headboard against the wall.

Her touch was everywhere—hot and gentle, rough and soothing all at once. Fingers tracing lines across my skin, exploring every inch as if memorizing the shape of me. Our bodies tangled together, moving as one, my legs wrapped around her as she pressed into me, our breaths merging, shallow and desperate. I couldn’t tell where her body ended and mine began. We were so intertwined, it was as if we had melted into each other, like molten metal, shaping and shifting with each movement.

The night became a blur of soft gasps and heated cries, of lips pressed together in breathless kisses, fingers tangled in hair, skin slick with sweat. My senses were overwhelmed by her—her scent, her taste, the warmth of her skin against mine. Each touch, each sound was amplified, the world narrowing down to just us, in this moment.

Her name slipped from my lips in a whisper, as though it had always been there, waiting to be spoken. And every time I called her name, she answered with a touch, a kiss, a moan that sent sparks shooting through me.

Time lost all meaning. There was nothing but the heat of her, the rhythm of our bodies, the quiet intensity that pulsed between us. And in the stillness that followed, when our breaths finally slowed and we lay tangled together, I realized that something had shifted. The line between fantasy and reality had blurred, and for once, I didn’t care to know where one ended and the other began.

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly, ready to curse out whoever dared to wake me from such a delicious dream. God, it had been so vivid. I could practically still feel the slick between my legs. Groaning, I reached over and checked the time. 7 a.m.? On a Saturday? And of course, the name flashing across the screen was Sarah.

I let it go straight to voicemail. There was no way I was dealing with her this early. I sank back into my pillow, desperate to drift off again and force my brain to finish that dream. Just five more minutes…

But just as I was about to slip back into bliss, I heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing. Sarah? Why would she call me if she was already here? Confused, I frowned, wondering why she wouldn’t just barge into my room and yell at me like she usually did.

The door clicked open.

I opened my mouth, ready to yell at her for waking me up so damn early—when the words died in my throat.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that grin, was the person from my dream. Not Sarah. Jenna.

I blinked, staring at her in pure disbelief. My brain scrambled to piece together last night and the very real possibility that it wasn’t, in fact, a dream. Jenna stood there, watching me with that same knowing smile, the one that haunted me all night.

“Good morning,” she said, breaking the silence, her voice soft but teasing.

I just gawked at her, my brain still struggling to process the reality of the situation. Was I still dreaming? I looked at her more closely, taking her in. She was wearing coffee girl’s cardigan, and nothing else but bare legs and confidence.

Holy shit.

“Good morning,” I finally managed, my voice cracking slightly. “Nice sweater.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a hint of something playful in her voice. “It’s really cozy.”

I couldn’t help but stare at her again. The sweater draped over her like it was custom-made, hanging perfectly over her shoulders. And because I’m me, and I apparently can’t go a day without saying something awkward, I blurted out, “Thanks. A girl gave it to me.”

Goddammit, Bella. I cringed internally, mentally smacking myself. Why would you say that?

Jenna’s eyebrow quirked, her smirk deepening, but she didn’t say anything. And that’s when it hit me. I glanced down at myself, feeling my stomach drop.

I’m naked.

She laughed softly at my babbling, clearly unfazed by the absolute chaos in my head. Maybe she did know what was going on. After all, I was laid out, completely bare for her to see. “Is that right?” she teased. “You just keep sweaters from random girls?”

“No, I mean—” I stammered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So what did you mean?” she asked, leaning in slightly, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“It’s a funny story, actually,” I started, babbling again, the words spilling out in a mess of excuses. “I was running late, so I was going kinda fast, and then—”

“I spilled coffee all over you?” she finished, her tone playful, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

I blinked. “Wait—how did you—?”

And then it hit me. The scent. Light. Sandalwood. Oh my God.

“Wait… that was you?”

Whoever was controlling my sim right now was some sort of twisted sadist. I was literally about to combust.

Jenna let out another soft laugh, clearly enjoying my realization. “I do love a good wet T-shirt contest,” she said, leaning closer, her breath warm against my cheek. “Although, with you, I think I’d prefer the shirt off.”

I froze, completely speechless as she moved onto the bed, crawling over my legs with ease, straddling me. Her arms draped casually over my shoulders, her body pressed close to mine. I could only stare at her, completely in awe.

She held my gaze for a moment before leaning in and kissing me. This time, there was no rush, but the intensity still simmered just beneath the surface. It was quick, too quick, and I found myself chasing after her lips as she pulled back, earning me a soft chuckle. She kissed me again, just a light peck, before pulling away entirely.

“I had a great time last night,” she murmured, her voice low.

I swallowed, nodding like an idiot. “Me too.”

Jenna lingered for a second longer, then gracefully slid off me, standing next to the bed. I could still feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the ghost of her lips on mine.

“I should probably get going,” she said, glancing toward the door with that same playful smirk still on her face.

I felt a sudden panic. “Oh, wait! Do you want…breakfast?” The words tumbled out before I could think, and I cringed internally. Smooth, Bella. Real smooth.

Her eyes flicked back to me, considering for a moment. “Breakfast?” she said, her lips curling into a smile.

“You know what? Sure. Why not.”

I scrambled to get out of bed, wrapping myself in the nearest blanket as I headed for the kitchen. I could feel Jenna’s eyes on me, that same lazy smirk playing on her lips as she watched me with amusement. God, how did she stay so calm?

I rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for something quick—eggs, toast, bacon. Nothing fancy, but at least I wouldn’t embarrass myself further. As I worked, I could hear Jenna moving around the apartment, probably checking things out while I tried to pretend this was a normal morning.

By the time I had the food on the stove, Jenna had joined me in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools at the counter, legs crossed, still wearing coffee girl’s cardigan—her cardigan. I glanced over at her, and she just raised an eyebrow, leaning her chin on her hand.

“So, is this your post-hookup routine?” she asked, her voice playful. “Make the girl breakfast and send her on her way?”

I nearly dropped the spatula. “No! I mean, it’s not like—uh, no. I just thought… you might be hungry?”

Jenna chuckled, clearly enjoying my flustered state. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” Her gaze softened slightly, though that teasing edge never fully left. “It’s cute how easily you get flustered.”

I busied myself with flipping the bacon, trying to hide the fact that my face was probably a thousand shades of red. “Yeah, well, you’re… not helping.”

“Oh, I know,” she said with a grin, leaning back in her seat.

We ate in relative silence, but the air between us still buzzed with something electric. Every now and then, I’d glance over at her, only to find her already watching me, a small smile playing on her lips. When we finished, I started clearing the plates, and Jenna finally stood up, stretching her arms over her head.

“That was nice,” she said, her tone light but still laced with that same teasing edge. “But I should really go.”

I nodded, trying to seem cool, like I wasn’t internally freaking out that she was about to leave. “Yeah, of course. I’ll… uh, walk you out.”

We made our way to the door, and just as I was about to open it, she turned to me, that familiar smirk back on her lips. “By the way,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “I’m keeping the sweater.”

I blinked. “What?”

She grinned, pulling the cardigan tighter around herself. “It’s cozy. And besides, I’ll let you borrow it again, if you ask nicely.”

Before I could respond, she leaned in, planting a quick kiss on my lips. It was soft, almost sweet, but still enough to leave me reeling as she pulled away.

“I’ll see you around, Bella,” she said, her voice full of promise. Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest.

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itsnotyouithink · 2 months ago

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tiny moves

"the tiniest moves you make, the whole damn world shakes"

===+++===

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: after a date night and declarations of love, you and jenna get discovered by the public and feel a bit like kids again

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, running from fans, cursing, still mostly fluff

word count: 1.7k

A/N: this was originally called starfucker but i didn’t like the connotation it was giving the story, so i decided to change it to this title instead, which more clearly illustrates the vibe i was trying to give it. it has smut, which is why that was the original name, but i didn't like that it sounded that way

===+++===

"Jenna, no," you say with a groan, pushing gently at her wrist. It's holding up the elastic band of your underwear just below your navel, and she looks up at you from where she straddles your waist, with dark, hungry brown eyes, coupled with a cheeky smirk.

She's asking you a question in the gaze, and though you earnestly consider it for a moment, you shake your head. She frowns but gives up, shrugging and letting go of the band as it snaps back against the sensitive, soft skin there, before flopping down on top of you. "Later, then."

From where you lay down in the car, the streetlight overhead narrowly slips in and casts itself right over your eyes in a single band. You're too exhausted to shift with Jenna's head lying against your shoulder, so instead you raise an arm to cover your eyes, still trying to catch your breath.

"We took off everything but your underwear, you know," Jenna says, gently poking you in the ribs with her finger. At the small jolt the movement sends through your body, you feel her smile against your neck.

"Are you really complaining?" you say, laughing softly with your eyes still covered. At the noise, she lifts her head up from off of you, watching your chest rise and fall and propping her chin up on her palm. When you realise she's gone silent, you pull your arm away, only to find her watching you.

The hunger from earlier has faded- or maybe it still lingers. But now her eyes are soft and warm, flooded by the dim streetlight outside, and you're positive that they might be twinkling. You swallow the lump in your throat. "What're you looking at?"

Jenna shrugs. "Just you...," she admits, looking up at the foggy window and then back down. "Did you like your dinner?"

The question is disarming and far from what you had expected, and you must've let it show on your face, because she rolls her eyes with a fond smile. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just you're asking me about pasta, now."

She shrugs. "I was just thinking we could probably go there again, next week. Maybe I'll take Emma and Joy."

"You're a dork," you laugh, shaking your head at her ability to so suddenly shift moods. Five minutes ago she had been moaning out your name and coming for the third time; now she was planning dinner with your cast mates. "Do you think they know by now?" you ask, raising a hand to gently scratch at an itchy spot on your collarbone that was already starting to bruise with an imprint of her teeth.

Jenna shakes her head. "I don't think so. I mean, we're pretty good at hiding it." She pauses, smirking at you. "Or, at least I am."

"Hey, friends can tell each other they look pretty."

"Every day?" she raises her eyebrows at you.

"Well, if they look pretty every day...,” you imply. Jenna’s eyebrows raise even higher. “But fine, I'll start telling Georgie he looks pretty too, if it makes less obvious."

"(Y/n), baby, I think that would make it more obvious."

"Hm," you hum, putting your arms back and pushing up from the leather seats. You move back to lean up against the interior car door and Jenna follows you, leaning her head against your chest once you settle. "You have that big scene tomorrow, right? With Hunter?"

She nods against you. "That's what Tim said. I think he wanted to move it up the schedule. He wants to get it out of the way before we film the one with you because of CGI stuff. More time to work on it and make it look good, or something. I don't really know why, but he said the stages were super expensive and—"

"—I love you."

It leaves your lips before you can think twice, not that you would anyhow. There's just something about the fire in her eyes when she speaks. The small crinkle in her nose when she's talking about some sort of problem.

It catches her off guard, interrupting her train of thought to leave her with her mouth hanging open in surprise, and you immediately scramble to cover for the silence. "Sorry, you don't have to say it back if you don't want to. I know it's only been a couple months so—”

But she cuts you off with a kiss, reaching up and turning herself around in your lap. Her arms wrap around your neck, pulling herself flush against you, skin to skin, in a messy kiss, and you're left gripping tightly to her thighs, which bracket your waist. Jenna's hand weaves itself into your hair, tangling itself there as she makes no move to pull away or stop for air.

You can feel her lipstick smearing itself against your lips even more than before, and she pulls away for only a moment, before she reconnects with you, the very tip of her tongue meeting yours. You stay like that for a while but it still is not long enough, and she pulls away, leaving you both heaving, and attempting to catch your breath.

"I love you too," she nods against you, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and then up on your forehead. "You stole my line."

"We can share," you hum against her, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. It's a miracle and a half, and you can remember in your mind just how much you almost refused to be on the show, and just how catastrophic that would have been.

===+++===

Neither of you are entirely sure just how long you sit in the car, but after what you later realise was twenty minutes of just sitting in silence, you both figure it's probably time enough to get home. Jenna clambers off of you, reaching forward to the passenger seat to where you had thrown her underwear and sweatpants.

You hear her groan as you're tugging your own socks on. "What's wrong?" you ask, raising your eyebrows at her in concern. It immediately goes away, when she turns back to you, holding her jumper up.

"Enrique is going to kill me. This is his, I asked to borrow it and you got it all wrinkly when you took it off."

"Sorry," you wince. "You just looked so pretty?" you offer, as a bad attempt at an explanation, and Jenna rolls her eyes at you, shaking her head with a smile.

"Come on, we need to get home," she sighs, looking a bit tired. By 'home' she really means her place. You have a flat of your own too, in the town you're filming in, but you've spent fewer and fewer nights there the more that you and Jenna began to talk. Even though you haven’t officially moved in together, she’s just started calling her place home, and intentional or not, you won’t correct her because that wouldn’t actually be correct.

Once you’re both dressed, you pull open the door of your car, helping her out and closing it behind her. You click the fob on your keys, looking around the car park for other people. It’s quite late, and you’re rather pleased that both the park and the street outside look empty.

Jenna’s walking a few feet in front of you, but with the empty street, you take complete advantage, catching up to her and grabbing her hand. She looks over at you with a worried expression, but it melts away to excitement when she realises no one else is nearby to ruin the moment. She laces her fingers in yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

Neither of you are too sure how long you can keep the charade going, or when you'll open up the internet and see you and Jenna on the very cover of some shitty tabloid, but it's nice to have your peace. Most people could just be peacefully in love in public, but for you and Jenna, it would always be a minefield.

You turn the corner with her hand in yours, both of you wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night to hide your faces. But it does nothing to stop the group a few feet away from stopping and staring at you. They're a bunch of teen girls, staring at you and Jenna with their mouths dropped open in immediate recognition, and immediately you see one take out her phone.

"Shit?"

"Shit," Jenna replies with a nod. Before you know what's happened, she's tugging you by the hand, dragging you behind her and breaking out into a gentle run. You follow after her, hearing the girls behind you begin to call out both of your names, but neither of you turn around.

It's a bit funny, and you're laughing as it happens, both out of the insanity of the situation and how fun it feels to run with her and the wind rushing past, and she pulls you into the doorway of her building, punching in the numbers and then grabbing you by the hand again.

You both race up the stairs and through the door, shutting it behind you, laughing like children at the insanity. You know your cover is blown. Someone would probably say something, and by morning those dreaded articles would be run. But you also know that if you were going to announce to the world that you loved anyone, you'd want it to be her.

Jenna giggles against you, leaning against the hallway of her flat to catch her breath. In between a couple of heavy breaths of your own, you whisper, "Do you think they saw us?"

She snorts. "I think it's safe to say so."

"Sorry," you frown. "It was kind of my fault... are you mad?"

But she shakes her head. "Not really. We both knew it would happen eventually. And, well... I love you. So really, what better time is here?"

You pull her gently into a kiss by your hand cupping cheek, holding her until you feel a hand inch towards your waistband again. "Really?" you laugh against her. "Now?"

"I did say later, didn't I?" she smirks.

===+++===

hope you liked it! had a whole bunch of fun and have been sitting on it for a while now, so it was good to finally get it out there!

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itsnotyouithink · 2 months ago

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please keep making stories about pop divas x female f1 driver this has been making my life lately

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itsnotyouithink · 2 months ago

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I See You - Tara Carpenter

Part 2 of I Dare You

Summary: At one of Amber's infamous parties, Tara's feelings get more and more complicated as she starts getting to know you.

Warnings: Fem!Painter!Reader, slow burn, mentions of sex, alcohol and partying, minor angst, non canon/high school

w.c: 6.9k

So, the glitch in the matrix seemed to be lasting much longer than you anticipated.

You did your best to forget the interaction you'd had with Tara and, honestly, that hadn't been such a difficult task. You still had a life, after all, and the rest of your day was divided into making preparations for the volunteering you'd be doing at the hospital during the weekend, studying and trying to make any progress on your painting.

Unfortunately, the last task proved itself to be annoyingly impossible, no matter how hard you tried. You'd tried everything from throwing random brushstrokes at the canvas to staring at the blank space while upside down in your bed, which filled your brain with blood but not with ideas.

There came a point when you had to admit defeat, at least for a day, and you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself from what seemed to be your greatest artistic failure. Your plans were to doomscroll through all possible social media and try to get the slightest bit of inspiration, but your attention was grabbed by a text notification coming from your Instagram.

From the username, it was clear that the text had been from none other than Tara Carpenter, which made your heart race a little in response. Your profile was a bit hard to find because there were no photos of you, which meant that Tara specifically had to look for you for a while. What's more, your profile was basically an exhibition of your artwork and the idea of someone other than your friends and teacher looking at all your projects made you a little anxious.

The texts themselves contained nothing much, apart from Tara apologizing for taking your pen (which you didn't even remember lending, to be honest) and then trying to strike up a conversation by asking you about Freddy vs Leatherface. Even so, noticing that she'd made an effort to keep on talking to you left you swooning.

You answered, of course. It would be rude to leave someone on read, wouldn't it? And besides, you were already planning to procrastinate anyway, so why not be nice and talk to Tara for a few minutes?

Who cares if minutes became hours, right?

And when school started the next day, you felt lighter, somehow. To your relief, no one seemed to remember your disastrous stumble the day before (probably because few people remembered you in general) and so you didn't have to deal with any giggles or weird looks.

You were in the middle of getting some books out of your locker when a familiar pen levitated into your field of vision. Your gaze followed the tanned arm that was holding it and you were met with long eyelashes and a sly smile.

“I'm a woman of my word! Here's your pen.” Tara raised the object towards you, making a funny reference to the text she had sent you the day before.

You rolled your eyes in amusement, although you couldn't hold the expression for long due to the corners of your lips lifting involuntarily. You took the small item from her hand and quickly put it in your bag. “Thanks, it's good to know you're not a thief. Did you at least bring one pen today?”

She understood the light, false accusatory tone in your voice and raised her hand, showing two fingers raised in a V. “Haha. Just so you know, I brought two today.”

It was amazing how instantaneous and right that conversation felt, almost as if it was the kind of thing you did all the time and not for the first time. Talking to Tara was surprisingly easy and you could see at least a friendship blooming between you in the near future.

If it weren't for the fact that she hangs out with the most insufferable people in the world, of course.

The reminder of Tara's group of friends hit you like a thunderbolt and made your chest ache for some reason. The words of both Ethan and Mindy echoed in your head, warning you to be careful, but a large chunk of your mind also insisted on reminding you of Anika's more positive opinion on the topic.

You turned to your locker again, pretending you were looking for something that didn't even exist. “I could never manage with just one pen.” You added politely, not wanting to leave Tara's joke unanswered just because your thoughts were getting muddled.

“I know. Artist and all, aren't you?” The girl nodded and you could see out of the corner of your eye as she leaned on the locker next to you, crossing her arms while still looking at you with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, don't you feel like going to a party tonight?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as you processed what she had said, but Tara remained completely unbothered by your side. As far as you knew, the Carpenter girl didn't usually throw parties, but Amber Freeman did, and she'd instituted a very specific rule about them ever since she'd thrown the first one during your freshman year:

Invite only. No losers allowed.

And, as far as you knew, in Amber's opinion you were included in the word “losers”.

“I don't think so.” You shook your head. “Amber's throwing this party, isn't she? I don't have an invitation and I don't even like parties that much.”

Tara laughed out loud at that, causing a few heads to turn in your direction and your cheeks to heat up like coals. “I'm inviting you, ain't I? and seriously! I've never even seen you at the boring school parties, how are you supposed to know if you like parties or not without ever having tried them?”

Okay, you weren't expecting Tara to rebut your arguments or be so insistent about your presence. Was it getting warmer or was it just your impression? “But... I don't even know anyone who's going, I'll probably just stand in the corner the whole night. And also, I have an appointment the next day, I can't, like, go wild...”

Unexpectedly, Tara let out an even louder laugh, this time even wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Go wild? You're hilarious.” She controlled her breathing, still keeping a bright smile on her face. “You don't have to drink if you don't want to, no one's going to force you. And about the being alone part, you can invite those friends of yours. Amber won't mind, she wants more people at her parties anyway and she refuses to call sophomores and below.”

You looked at her with surprise and suspicion. Invite your friends? Did Tara remember that your friends included Mindy Meeks-Martin? Like, basically Amber's number one enemy, Mindy Meeks-Martin?

Tara finally noticed your wary expression and sighed, uncrossing her arms and raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, Amber said I could invite nice people and I think you're nice. She'll be busy with other things anyway, she probably won't even notice that your friends are there.”

You bit your lower lip, considering your options. On the one hand, parties weren't exactly your natural habitat and you still had your doubts about whether or not you were welcome there. On the other hand, Tara had been so kind to you lately and... for some reason, you wanted to explore it a little further.

“Can I give you an answer later? I'll ask my friends if they're going.” That's what you decided to answer, choosing to leave your conflicting future in the hands of your dear companions.

Tara nodded a yes and complemented the action with a shrug. “Okay. But even if they decide not to go, I think you should give it a chance.”

Suddenly, the bell for the first period echoed in the corridors, waking you both up to the fact that you had to be in your classrooms in a few seconds. As lockers closed and teenagers ran to avoid being late, Tara lazily turned around and started walking away, ending your interaction.

But you didn't want it to end so soon. In a impulsive act, you raised your voice. “What should I wear?”

Tara turned as soon as she heard you and her eyes slowly traveled up and down your body as a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat broke out on her face. “Wear something pretty! But I think you were already going to do that anyway.”

System crash. Your brain shortcutted. Did Tara had just...? No, she couldn't have possibly... checked you out? Were you seeing things?

As Tara's back got further and further down the corridor, you ran back to your classroom, muttering on the way, “God, I'm really not your strongest soldier.”

“I need to ask you something.”

You were extremely nervous. Your fingers kept drumming on the table and your brain was desperately trying to think of a way to convince your friends to A) go to Amber's party with you and B) not think you were out of your mind.

Tara's words (and her actions, by the way) really made you consider that crazy possibility. On any other occasion, you would have denied it as quickly as possible and then run away, but you were finding that Tara Carpenter could be extremely convincing.

Mindy swallowed a piece of the sandwich she was holding, making a dismissive gesture with her hands. “I’ve told you before, we have no interest in a throuple.”

Sitting next to her with her feet propped up on her girlfriend's lap, Anika raised an eyebrow and smiled playfully. “Who says we don't?”

“What?!” Both Mindy and Ethan shouted, although the girl clearly got the joke and was just going along with it, while the boy seemed really bothered by the idea. You and Anika let out a loud chuckle and you smiled at her in appreciation, knowing that she had joked around just to make you less nervous.

With the mood more relaxed, you took a deep breath and said the words in rapid fire, fearing that they would never come out if you lingered too long. “Tara invited me to Amber's party and she said I could invite you guys. Would you go with me? Please?”

“Absolutely not.” Mindy quickly denied your request, putting on an angry expression. “And why would you want to go to a party like that, anyway?”

“That's right, only assholes go to that kind of thing.” Ethan agreed with the girl, looking equally annoyed by your suggestion.

Your eyes turned to Anika in a plea for help and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Opening her famous warm smile that reached her eyes, she grabbed Mindy's arm and pouted. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, I've always wanted to go to a party like this. We can just go and laugh at people being dumb.”

“We can laugh at people being dumb at school literally all the time, I don't need to be at Amber Freeman's house for that.” Mindy objects, but it's obvious that she's already starting to give in to her girlfriend's charms by the way her face looks more peaceful.

Anika looked in your direction and you understood that you would have to stay in that ping pong game of arguments until the other two gave in. “Amber won't even notice we were there! Tara said there would be too many people for her to handle.”

“Aaaand,” Anika added, moving even closer to Mindy, almost sitting on her lap on that narrow wooden bench. “Our theme for the A.V club project is literally young and reckless! What's more young and reckless than Amber's parties?! We'll get some great material if we go!”

Mindy considered the proposal for long seconds that left you on the edge of your seat. You knew Ethan would probably go if you all did, so it was really all in the Meeks-Martin girl's hands.

Finally, she sighed and rolled her eyes, slipping an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. “Okay, I'll go. But I’m warning you, if Amber even looks in my direction, I won't answer for myself.”

Anika squealed, grabbing Mindy's face and pulling her close to kiss her cheek, which clearly got the girl flustered even though she only replied with an “alright, alright”. You smiled at this, feeling a mixture of amusement and relief at knowing that your friends had agreed to embark with you on this madness.

Ethan hadn't necessarily agreed yet, but when you looked in his direction, he sighed dramatically, so that his brown curls moved with the wind. “If you're both going, I think I'll go to keep y/n company. So she won't be a third wheel and won't be bothered by idiots, you know?”

You thanked the boy with a pat on the shoulder and his smile automatically widened. Across the table, Mindy laughed. “Oh, I don't think you have to worry about y/n getting third wheeled, Ethan. Tara invited her, did you forget?”

“Holy shit. I have to tell Tara.” You remembered your conversation with the girl earlier, rushing into her DMs and completely ignoring the jokes and teasing from the girls in front of you.

You just hoped they could also ignore your completely flustered behavior.

We're going!

A simple message had made Tara's day a thousand times better. She'd forgotten how insufferable Amber could be on party days, as well as the fact that Liv had spent the whole day acting like a pick-me-girl because Chad had been spending much more time on his phone than with her lately.

She'd put her best Casanova act into play when she'd spoken to you earlier, but somehow your sense of humor made her break character and just act like herself, which was something she couldn't remember doing so freely in a long time.

Of course she had appealed for a bit of her charm at the end, but she just couldn't hold back when you had opened up such a perfect opening for her to flirt.

“You should really thank me, you know that?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear and soon pale arms wrapped around her neck in a grip that bordered on uncomfortable. “I basically handed you your challenge on a platter by letting you invite those weirdos.”

Tara was annoyed by the comment and she quickly disentangled herself from the hug, bumping into Amber and her devilish expression. The shorter girl huffed, fixing her clothes and hair as if that was the real reason she had walked away.

At least this time she didn't turn red. That was progress.

“Shut up. If anything happens, it'll be my merit.” Tara slung her bag over her shoulder, walking along with Amber and the other students to the exit after another tiring Friday of classes.

The taller girl didn't even mind Tara's protests, shaking her head as if she didn't believe the freckled girl’s words. “Anyway, at least you'll be busy while I'm doing someone and won't be bothering me the next day.”

They walked out the door and fortunately Tara could already see Sam's car parked not far away. The girl turned her face in the opposite direction of her friend’s, pretending it was due to the sun and hoping Amber hadn't seen the pained expression on her face. “Whatever. See you later, Freeman.”

“See you later, Carpenter!” Amber shouted back, but Tara didn't turn around to wave goodbye and kept her head down until she reached the old sedan her mother used to drive. At least that was until she was no longer sober enough to hold a steering wheel.

Inside the car, Sam raised her head when she heard the door open and close after Tara got into the passenger seat. She started to back out of the parking lot, occasionally glancing at her younger sister who seemed to be upset beside her. “So... how was school?”

“Don't fucking start.” Tara muttered, putting on her headphones in a quick move to isolate herself from the world and from an older sister who suddenly wanted to be there for her after abandoning her alone with an alcoholic for a year.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the window, trying not to think about how Amber really got on her nerves sometimes, or think about the guilt that was starting to rise up inside her after being rude to Sam for nothing. Why couldn't her mind stop working for just one minute?

But as she tried to make her own thoughts go blank, a pleasant memory surfaced. Tara remembered your conversation earlier, the way you could understand each other's moods and how genuinely happy she was that you were going to the party for her.

Maybe, if she just kissed you and hid the real reason behind everything, you could even be friends after all. Maybe she could even convince Amber that you were a nice person, so that you could hang out with them.

Of course, these were only wishful thinking, but Tara wanted peace and, at the moment, the utopian idea of having you around gave her that exact feeling.

“Okay, now give me a spin.”

You turned in your place at Anika's request, being mindful to not to get out of the sight of your phone camera, which was leaning awkwardly on your desk. Your room was a mess of clothes scattered all over the place, highlighting your intense search to decide on the perfect outfit to wear for the party.

“So?” You asked your friend, who had her attention split between the video call and her own elaborate makeup.

Anika seemed to finish her analysis on your look while you were about to start trembling with anxiety. You trusted the girl's fashion sense more than anything and you swore you could have started crying if she said that your outfit wasn't good. Fortunately, her response was a positive nod and a satisfied grin. “Oh, you look so cute!”

You looked down, once again staring at the outfit you had chosen, which was a comfortable one, but neat enough to let people know that you had put some effort into dressing up.

Receiving compliments had never exactly been your strong suit, but as much as you felt awkward about Anika's comment, you couldn't get Tara's recommendation out of your head. “Yeah, but do I look pretty?”

“Of course you do! Cute, pretty, it's all the same!”

You frowned, still feeling annoyed. Fashion had never exactly been your forte and that fact was your Achilles heel at the moment, since you still weren't convinced that “cute” and “pretty” were the same thing. In your opinion, Tara seemed to be the type who liked pretty girls, but not cute girls.

Or maybe it didn't make any sense at all and you were just going crazy at the thought of spending the next few hours in a house full of people you either didn't know or didn't like. Besides, when did you start caring about the kind of girl Tara liked?

“I can hear your thoughts from here, you know?” Anika called out, making your head snap out of that internal cycle of overthinking. “Is this all to impress Tara?”

“Ugh.” You grunted, flopping onto your bed oblivious to the dozens of clothes that were crumpling under your body. “No? Maybe? I don't know.”

You felt ashamed of the situation, even though you knew Anika wasn't the judgmental type. Your feelings were still confusing and you definitely didn't feel ready to admit that you thought about Tara more than you should, but there was also no way to hide something that was so obvious.

“Hey, it's okay, you know? Actually, I'm glad to see you're interested in someone.” Anika replied kindly, which made you work up the courage to sit up, staring at your friend's genuine expression through the screen. “I know you're worried about Mindy and all, but Chad's always nice to me when I go to their house and it was super easy to do some school work with Wes for our calc class.”

She continued, “What I mean is that Tara could still be a nice girl for you, no matter how much there's this Romeo and Juliet thing going on between our groups.”

“It's not that. I mean, it is a bit, but also...” You sighed, trying hard not to run your hands through your hair and make it look messy. “... I don't think she'd be interested in me. I mean, she's been giving me these signals but, I don't know, maybe she does it with everyone?”

Anika tsked, shaking her head and giving you a playful smile. “I've never heard of Tara being a player.”

You groaned again, turning your face away as if the act would somehow stop you from feeling so flustered. Anika laughed in response. “Just enjoy the moment! You already know she's the straight forward type, don't you? If she wants something from you, I'm sure she'll get it.”

“Anika!” You shrieked, appalled by what she was inferring. Your entire face seemed to be engulfed in lava as your friend laughed even louder at the clear shock you expressed.

“What?! The world needs more people like that, you know? That's why I'm going to take the initiative to run away to a corner with Mindy at the first opportunity and-.”

“Ew! No! Stop talking! Please, you're my mother figures!”

The walls of the house seemed to shake under Tara's fingers as she leaned on it, making her way to the bathroom in slow, crooked steps as she cursed quietly at the amount of people crowding into the hallway.

They were screaming with joy, slurring the lyrics of the extremely loud song that was playing on the huge speakers in the living room, echoing throughout the house and possibly the entire block. Thank God, Wes had already taken care of his mother.

Tara groaned the whole way, feeling like pushing away all the sweaty, alcohol-altered people who bumped into her shoulder, unable to see properly through the colored lights that made the place look like a nightclub. She sighed in relief when she finally found the bathroom, opening the door and locking herself inside without caring about the noise it made.

She turned on the lights and leaned on the sink with both hands, leaning over to look at her reflection in the mirror, with tired eyes and her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat. God, how could she have been so shaken up by a measly hour of partying? She used to be able to take a lot more.

But she also knew exactly what had led up to it and the smell of alcohol on her lips wouldn't let her lie. She thought she was going to have more fun, but her evening became much more difficult after she saw Amber stick her tongue down the throats of at least three people right in front of her, making a point of giving Tara a thumbs-up afterwards, almost as if she was trying to annoy her friend on purpose.

Tara tried everything to make herself less bothered. She'd danced, she'd watched some people play 7 minutes in heaven, she'd even flirted with a few people just for fun, but in the end, what had stopped her blood from pounding furiously in her ears had been the beers stocked in Amber's basement fridge.

She stopped after the third one, after she felt tipsy enough. She didn't want to be her mother's daughter, who didn't know her own limits and fell asleep on the living room carpet because she didn't have the strength to walk to her own room. And the drinks helped for a while, but now that the sweat had evaporated the effect of the alcohol on herself, her headache left her one scream or punch away from going insane.

Tara splashed water on her face, oblivious to the fact that her makeup was getting smudged or her bangs got even wetter. At this point, she no longer cared about much other than surviving the rest of the night.

Once she had pulled herself together, she sighed and left the bathroom, expecting to be dragged into the living room by the crowd of teenagers dancing and jumping around like wild animals, but instead she ended up being bumped in the opposite direction, almost knocking her off balance.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry!” Gentle hands rushed to hold Tara up before she fell and she followed the length of the arms with her eyes until she bumped into a familiar face. It was you, who was now staring at Tara with a frown. The girl couldn't help herself and looked you up and down, mentally appreciating the way you were dressed.

You quickly took your hands off Tara's shoulders, rubbing them anxiously. The girl felt a tug in her chest as she remembered that she had invited you and you most likely should have spent all this time looking for her, while she was drinking and whining about not having the attention of the biggest bitch in Woodsboro. Drunk and abandoning people? Wow, the Carpenter women's genes never fail.

“I didn't realize you'd already arrived.” Tara broke the awkward silence, mentally thanking you for being upstairs and being able to talk without having to shout over the hip hop track playing in the living room.

You looked away, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. It's been a while.”

Tara nodded, feeling a little disappointed in herself as she realized that you had clearly been annoyed by her absence. She tried to strike up a conversation again, wishing she could somehow put a smile on your face. “What brings you upstairs? Not enjoying the energy of the party?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” You sighed, hugging your elbows. “Actually, I was more looking to escape to the bathroom, because I was planning to hide there until my friends decided to leave.”

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Tara joked, but the smile on her face hardened when she realized that you hadn't laughed along with her.

Tara felt terrible. Sure, you'd only had a few interactions before, but all of them had proved that you could understand each other easily. Now, Tara didn't know if it was the party, if it was her or something else that had made you look so uncomfortable, but she was determined to make it up to you for being an idiot.

“You know, I think I have a better hiding place than a small bathroom.” She leaned towards you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Are you interested?”

You scrutinized the girl's face and she couldn't help but be disappointed that you didn't even seem to be affected by your proximity as you usually would. Your arms were crossed as you felt suspicious of her offer. “Don't you have to go back to the party?”

Tara made a dismissive gesture with her hand and started walking down the large hallway, looking for a specific room. “Nah, I've been to so many of these that it's lost it’s spark to me.”

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Tara was sick of that party and she'd love to have a distraction from the fact that Amber was now probably at her body count number 100 and Tara wasn't talking about dead people. But then again, she felt strangely committed to making you have at least a little fun and she really liked your company.

Maybe it was just because she felt bad for having invited you in the first place. Yeah, that must be it.

She opened Amber's bedroom door, barging in without hesitation and heading straight for the window, opening it all the way. Behind her, you seemed slightly alarmed by the idea of simply invading the personal space of a girl who could make your life a living hell. “Uh…”

But before you could really protest, Tara put one leg out of the window, glancing in your direction with a playful smile. “Trust me. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared, but trusting you? After you invited me to a party you’re trying to escape?” you replied, making Tara's smile widen as she realized you were starting to open up again. “And what are you doing at the window, Rapunzel?”

Tara chuckled, pointing your way. “Wait and see.”

In a swift motion, she raised her hands to the roof platform above her head, pushing off Amber's window with her feet to gain enough momentum to pull herself up with extra effort from her arms. Still holding onto the edge, Tara hung upside down, looking at you through the window with her bangs sticking up. “So, are you coming or not?”

You snorted lightly with the sight, shaking your head as you approached the window. “I’m no Spider-Man. If I fall from here, it’ll be your fault, and I hope they write it down as homicide.”

“Good to know you have so much faith in me.” Tara answered, kneeling on the roof tiles and extending her hand for you to grab. You hesitated for a few seconds, and honestly, Tara couldn’t blame you for it, but she kept looking at you expectantly, trying to communicate with her eyes. Let me make things right with you.

She almost sighed in relief when you finally grabbed her forearm, letting her help you up slowly, pretending not to notice how her hands ended up on your hips. All in the name of making your night a little less boring, of course.

But wow, your body felt... warm.

It didn’t take long for you to pull away from Tara, clearing your throat and sitting on the roof beside her. It would be hard to stand for long due to the slope, but the spot was comfortable enough for you to sit or lie down without the risk of rolling off.

The roof was quite high, not tall enough for you to see the entire city, for example, but high enough that the people below you looked like tiny ants. Ants that were dancing, having fun, and throwing cups of beer at each other.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence, but Tara saw the exact moment you winced, realizing way too late the double meaning of your words. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

“It’s all good.” Tara laughed, considering saying something to tease you even more, but she ultimately decided against it , feeling a bit sorry for your embarrassed state. “And no, to answer your question. I used to spend a lot more time up here before, but now…”

She let the sentence trail off, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe the last time she had been on that roof was the day Sam had gone to rehab, two years ago. Which, looking back now, was probably around the same time Amber stopped being a caring friend and started being the friend that thought Tara complained too much.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence for a few more seconds—or as quiet as it could be with two massive speakers blasting music two floors below. Tara glanced to the side, staring at your face, which seemed more focused on the starry sky, illuminated only by a few beams of moonlight.

Like she had felt in the car earlier, that sight gave her peace. It wasn’t like looking at Amber, which made her feel like her organs were being squeezed and thrown into an erupting volcano. Looking at you made her feel like a sea breeze was brushing against her face, a comforting, peaceful gust of wind.

Tara’s eyes drifted down to your lips, and she had to run her tongue across her own. Amber’s challenge lingered in the back of her mind, and she was tempted to test if your kiss would be a better distraction than the cheap beer she’d grabbed from the basement.

But suddenly, Tara felt self-conscious. Maybe it was the fact that the idea had been Amber’s, and she was still too annoyed with the girl to give her the satisfaction of being right. Maybe it was because she could still taste the alcohol in her mouth and didn’t want you to taste it too.

Or maybe it was something else. Something gentler and softer that even Tara couldn’t quite describe yet.

“Oh, look!” Tara snapped out of her own thoughts when she saw you excitedly pointing at the sky. “You can see Orion so clearly!”

She followed the direction of your hand with her eyes, feeling confused about what exactly she was supposed to be looking at. That particular night was cloudless, which made the vast array of stars shining in the dark sky exceptionally beautiful.

You noticed the lost expression on the girl’s face beside you and chuckled. “Orion? The constellation?”

“Oh, yeah. I… I know.” Tara just nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being sure what you were referring to. She knew what a constellation was, of course, but she had never studied them in much detail, and in her eyes, all she could see in the sky were random stars, beautiful but completely scattered.

You laughed again, not buying Tara’s excuse for a second after seeing how confused her eyes looked. Gently, your hand held hers as you started pointing out the constellation with both of your hands joined together.

“See those three stars close together? That’s what we call Orion’s belt. It’s much easier to spot the rest of the constellation starting from there. Up there, kind of making a triangle, you have Meissa, Betelgeuse, and Bellatrix, and if you look to the side, it kinda looks like he’s holding a bow.”

Tara wanted to pay attention to your explanation, but her brain turned to mush the moment your hands got entangled, and her heart started pounding like the drums in a heavy metal song. You, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the action, which made Tara feel even more like an idiot.

Wow, what was in those drinks?

“You really know a lot about this,” she said, trying to sound normal, even though her voice felt like it could crack at any moment. You smiled at the comment, letting go of her hand to play with your fingers in your lap.

“One day, I had this brilliant idea to paint constellations on my bedroom ceiling—or at least most of them—and I had to do a ton of research to make sure it looked right.” You laughed, and Tara realized she wanted to hear that sound more and more.

“It’s cool that you’re a painter. It’s different.” She wanted to keep the conversation going, eager to learn more about any detail you were willing to offer, but she didn’t exactly know what to say. For someone who usually had no trouble expressing herself, Tara seemed to have forgotten her entire vocabulary.

Luckily, you seemed to be in the opposite situation, feeling comfortable enough to keep talking. “I guess so? I’ve never thought much about it before. Painting is a lot more than just a hobby for me—it’s more like a safe haven, you know?”

Tara nodded instead of giving a verbal response, especially because she knew exactly what you were talking about, but she didn’t have the words to express how much she needed a conversation like this—so simple, yet so healing.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, slowly pulling out her phone. “Can I take a picture of the constellation?” Tara asked, mentally kicking herself when she heard how vulnerable her voice sounded.

Her tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you looked at her with a bit of confusion, but soon after, your eyes softened, shining with kindness—almost as bright as the stars above your heads. “You don’t have to ask me to take pictures of the sky, but do you want me to point it out again?”

“Sorry, old habit.” She shook her head to snap out of it, feeling her cheeks heating up as she started opening the camera app and aiming it upward. “But yeah, please.”

Slowly and gently, you took Tara’s hands again, working together with her to make sure the constellation was perfectly centered. You were close enough for Tara to catch the pleasant scent of your perfume, but she forced herself to stay focused on the picture you two were trying to capture.

After a few successful shots of Orion (which Tara planned to edit later to make it more visible and color-corrected), the two of you lay down side by side, admiring the night’s beauty in another moment of shared, comfortable silence.

Now, the silence inside Sam’s car wasn’t as comfortable.

It was the first time Tara had asked Sam to pick her up from a party, especially as late as 2 AM, considering the younger Carpenter always used to sleep over at Amber’s once everything wrapped up.

But after you left, Tara completely lost the desire to stay. The music was dull, she had no interest in drinking or playing any games, and she definitely didn’t want to be around her friends anymore.

She sat in a thoughtful silence, her head resting against the window, watching as the asphalt disappeared behind the car doors. The soft hum of the engine served as background noise since Tara didn’t have her precious headphones, but she’d spent enough time around loud music for the night anyway, so her ears were begging for a break.

“Did you… have fun?” Sam asked cautiously, as if Tara were a wounded animal that might lash out at any moment. The younger girl sighed, feeling guilty for being the reason behind the hostile distance between them.

She already felt guilty about enough things. Maybe it was time to start lifting some of that weight off her shoulders.

“I guess I did.” She nodded, watching Sam’s surprised expression at her genuine response. The look made her seem younger, reminding Tara that Sam wasn’t that much older than her. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember seeing Sam so carefree since she’d returned, but her anger hadn’t exactly allowed her to notice the little details. “I had a good time.”

“Good,” Sam replied, trying to hide a satisfied smile from tugging at the corner of her lips. In the passenger seat, Tara did the same, feeling a tiny bit of happiness from the small progress they’d made. Small steps were important.

The car fell silent again, but it felt less heavy, and Tara figured it was because Sam was tired and still had to focus on the road for at least another 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the pause, the younger Carpenter pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket, going straight to her gallery and searching for the pictures she had taken earlier.

Most of them were of the sky, capturing the fateful (and now familiar to Tara) constellation of Orion, which made her think of the feeling of your hands on hers. Two others, however, were a bit more personal for her.

She zoomed in on the photo, staring at the profile of your face bathed in moonlight as you smiled brighter than the stars. She had taken the picture in secret, an impulsive urge to capture not just the moment, but you. Tomorrow, she could blame it on the alcohol, but tonight, she would give herself the privilege of gazing at your carefree expression for a few long seconds.

You had probably spent hours talking on the roof, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Tara wanted more. She needed more. Even though she’d never considered herself to be possessive or clingy, she couldn’t help but want to explore every little piece of your world as if it were the most beautiful piece of art.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and Tara quickly opened Instagram, this time taking her time to scroll through and really appreciate each of your paintings. As she studied the pieces you had displayed, she mentally kicked herself for not having done it sooner. It was clear that you drew inspiration from the Renaissance, and that people were your greatest muse. There were few self-portraits, but Tara recognized some of your friends in the works.

She was so captivated that she felt a strong urge to knock on your door and ask you to tell her the story behind each one, just for the pleasure of hearing your voice. But, well, it was 2 AM, and she didn’t even know where you lived.

And, of course, she wasn’t that crazy.

Still, she decided to slide into your DMs, sending you five of the photos you had taken of the sky, taking the opportunity to wish you a good night. Would sending a heart emoji be too much? She decided against it. The photos would be enough.

But Tara still wasn’t satisfied with her exploration, so she ventured into your stories, looking for anything that could give her more reasons to talk to you. It turned out to be a great decision, because she struck gold.

You had posted an announcement from Woodsboro Central Hospital earlier, calling for volunteers for a special event dedicated to bringing joy to children hospitalized with cancer. The flyer said that any help was welcome, from telling stories to dressing up as superheroes, and Tara couldn’t stop wondering what you had signed up to do.

Without wasting any time, she navigated to the hospital’s profile, hoping they were still accepting applications even though she was texting them literally seven hours before the event.

Hi, I’m interested in volunteering! Would you need a photographer?

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