Chapter Text
The house party they’ve been invited to happens to fall on a weekend that Shauna is off from her summer job and Jackie has no prior commitments, so they make the plan to visit when Shauna calls to see how everyone has settled in. Jackie and Shauna make the trip down the 9 in Shauna’s Ford Festiva, which is only slightly less beat-to-shit than Van’s truck, and it takes them an extra two hours to arrive because apparently someone forgot her makeup bag and only realized halfway through the drive.
That’s the way Shauna explains it on the phone, at least. Jackie pleads the fifth when asked.
Nat, Van and Tai are waiting on the porch when their friends arrive, Tai and Van occupying two of their rickety wooden chairs, Nat propped up on the porch railing. When Shauna’s car rounds the corner of their block and shambles into view, Nat whoops and Van hops up to wave them down excitedly. The Festiva rambles into their driveway, stationed comfortably behind Van’s truck, and idles to a stop.
Quick as lightning, the passenger door slams open and all five-foot-four-inches of Jackie Taylor comes running out, gunning it for the porch— Nat lets herself slide off the railing, her feet just barely touching grass before Jackie tackles her into a running start, both arms, spinning, extremely unnecessary hug.
Nat tries to bat away Jackie’s advances even as Jackie drags them both down to the grass. The other girl is laughing the whole way down, Nat not so much.
“Jackie, get off me ,” Nat groans, but she lets her arms fall limp to her sides. She tells herself it's because if Jackie’s gonna hug her, she doesn’t get much of a choice. “It’s been four days.”
Jackie pushes herself up to her elbows. “Town’s so boring without you, Nat. And insulting Shauna isn’t half as funny as making fun of you.”
Swinging a fist around, Nat punches her in the shoulder, shoving her off. “Fuck you, Jackie,” Nat says, but then she pulls Jackie into an awkward side hug. “It’s fucking good you’re here, dude.”
“Jax, are you gonna help me with the bags?” Shauna calls out from halfway inside the trunk. Pulling out a baby blue suitcase, Nat hears her mutter, “Why did we pack so much?”
“Van’ll help, Shauna” Tai calls out, and Nat laughs when Van whips her head up, incredulous.
“Yeah, thanks for volun-telling me,” Van grumbles, hopping down the porch steps to take an overnight bag from Shauna’s outstretched hand.
“Let’s get you guys settled,” Tai says, holding the door open for the bag-bearers. “Shauna, you and Jackie are taking the futon for the weekend.”
Nat doesn’t miss the way red starts to flood Shauna’s ears, the way Jackie suddenly looks away, sheepish.
Tai, Van, and Shauna chatter on about sleeping arrangements as they enter the house, leaving the door open behind them, while Nat helps Jackie to her feet. As Jackie dusts the dirt and grass from her cutoffs, Nat elbows her.
“Did you get the stuff?” She whispers.
Jackie gives her a wink, then she reaches into her bag and produces a Ziplock baggie of dark green buds— about half an ounce worth.
Nat pumps a fist. “Fuck yes, dude. I’d hook us up but you know I just got here. Haven’t laid down my roots yet.”
“No worries,” Jackie tosses her hair over her shoulder. “All I had to do is bat my eyelashes at that one loser guy that hangs out behind the 7-11.”
Loser guy behind the 7-11… Nat makes a face. “You asked Rich?”
“Oh.” Jackie’s eyes glaze over. “Yeah, I think that was him.”
Nat shrugs. “Rich has good shit.”
“You and Van and Shauna can have your fun, you little potheads. I’ll abstain. I really don’t need a repeat of last—”
Jackie’s entire body freezes.
“A repeat of what? Jackie?” Nat goes to grab Jackie by the shoulders, shake it out of her, but Jackie’s already charging into the house, desperately evading Nat’s grip, squealing the whole way like a pig being chased by the big bad wolf. “Jackie, a repeat of what ?”
After Shauna and Jackie have unpacked, they head to the beach, all five of them squeezing into Shauna’s car with the chairs and the towels and the umbrellas between them, so Van can have a break from driving. Jackie has permanent dibs on shotgun in Shauna’s car, practically has her name stitched into the seat, so Nat shoves herself in the back with the two lovebirds and rolls the window down as they journey down the side streets all the way to a half-full parking lot overlooking sand and sea.
“This is just like Jaws ,” Van says, excitedly, as they haul their gear to one of the few open spots on the beach. Jackie is running ahead, already half climbing out of her frilly pink bloomers that had Nat asking questions in the car like What are those and Why do they look like that and What small, sleeping, Victorian child did you kill to get them , all of which Jackie refused to answer.
“Yeah! If we're lucky, maybe someone will get eaten,” Shauna deadpans, tossing her and Jackie’s chairs down.
Nat rolls her eyes. “There’s no sharks on the Jersey coast, Shauna.”
A small child to the left of them drops a popsicle, trips in the sand and eats shit, and immediately starts bawling. Shauna looks at Nat, an eyebrow raised. “Can’t a girl dream?”
Jackie suddenly appears at Shauna’s side. “Oh, don’t be such a grump, Shipman,” she says, tugging Shauna’s shirt over her head (with what looks like practiced ease, Nat thinks with minimal surprise) and tossing it onto their chair pile. “Come and swim with me!”
“Jax, I gotta set up the beach chairs—”
“I got ‘em,” Nat shoves Shauna towards Jackie. “Go have fun with your girl.”
Shauna glares at her. Nat smirks and shoos her off as they jog towards the gentle waves.
“That was nice of you, Nat,” Taissa hums from her already open beach chair, sunglasses pulled over her eyes, LSAT prep book in her lap. Van is liberally applying sunscreen to her shoulders.
Nat wrestles with their rusted borrowed beach chairs. “If Shauna didn’t go with her, Jackie’d be pouting all afternoon. I’m just trying to keep the peace.”
Tai looks at her over the top of her shades. Van stops massaging skin to stare at her dead on.
“Y’know, Nat, you like to talk big game about how miserable we all make you and how much you hate spending time with us,” Van drawls, “but we all know the truth is that if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be, so you can drop the act.”
“Not an act.” Nat shoves the now-open chair into the sand, then plops down on it, crossing her arms. “You people are the worst. I fucking hate fifth-wheeling with you all.”
“Excuse me? Tai gasps. “Do not try to lump Van and I into whatever those two—” she gestures vaguely towards the water with her book, “—have going on.”
Nat looks pointedly at Van’s hands caressing Tai’s neck. “Van is literally trying to cop a feel on you right now, dude.”
They both sputter awkwardly for a moment, but get over it quick enough, shrugging off Nat’s judgement to trade places so Tai can cover Van’s pale nose with sunblock.
Nat finishes getting the other chairs set up, and then returns to her own, leaning back into the firm mesh. She takes a moment for herself, just readjusting to her surroundings— blocking out the screams of children and yelling summer-breakers to focus on the crashing waves, the loudness of the ocean. The beach was always something of a pipe dream for Natalie— it was the kind of thing talked about grandly, with sweeping expertise and little detail.
My family and I spent two weeks at The Beach, Jackie would sometimes say, at the beginning of the school year, with little elaboration but an expectation of understanding. Going to The Beach meant laying on your stomach for eight hours straight to tan, maybe— swimming, potentially— the implications of a castle, somewhere. Nat had never been. Beaches were too public for her family. Too many watchful eyes, too many prying ears, too many whispers of trailer trash pulling up and leaving a mess. Maybe, when she was younger, and she had been small enough to be just a thing and not a problem in her house, maybe then her dad could’ve driven them down the coast for a half day, probably. If it happened, Nat doesn’t remember, and now there's no one left for her to ask.
So she takes it easy. She buries her feet in the sand— feels the warmth wash up to her ankles— and watches Jackie and Shauna wade waist-high into the water. Despite the noisiness of the crowded beach, Nat feels peaceful, for fucking once— the kind of peace that comes from not having to look over your shoulder every second.
Of course, it’s that exact moment that Nat lets her guard down that a fucking soccer ball hits her in the goddamn head.
“Nat!” Tai, exclaims, at the same time that Van yells, “Hey, watch it!” and Nat groans, loudly, “Fuck!”
She cradles her head in her hands while Tai and Van launch to their feet. The offending players, a group of four girls maybe about their age, come jogging over, remorse clearly written on their faces.
“Shit, sorry about that,” the one in the front of the pack says, a blonde in cargo shorts and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. She takes off her pink snapback to wipe some of the sweat off her face. “Is your friend okay?”
Nat shoots them all a moderately annoyed thumbs up.
“She’s a trooper, that one.” Van says, chest puffed, like she doesn’t want these girls to think any one of them could be so easily injured by a soccer ball. “Should’a seen her during states. Our Nat here tanked a ball to the chest, cracked a rib, and still played to the end of the game.”
“Rad.” A brunette in a colorful windbreaker gives Nat a judgemental once over, then nods, seemingly satisfied. “You guys want to join?”
Van and Tai look to Nat for approval, and Nat shrugs. “Sounds like fun. Better than sitting around here waiting for Jackie and Shauna to come back.”
Nat grabs the ball from where it lays at her feet and tosses it to Tai, who juggles it for a moment before kicking back to the blonde, who in turn bounces it off her chest and back down to her feet, and just like that they’re off.
Between passing the ball and games of keep away on the sand, Nat learns that the group of four girls all work on the boardwalk in some variety— Melissa, the blonde, and Gen, her shorter brunette friend, work at the movie theater Van will be starting at soon, while the other two (Mari, the judgemental brunette, and Akilah, the quiet, dark-skinned girl with long braids) both man the ice cream stall at the end of the pier.
About an hour after the unfortunate accident that led to their meeting, Nat, Van and Tai are absolutely beating the shit out of the “home team” of their little pickup game. Even three against four, they’re just too in sync, too competitive— it's a good thing they're playing on sand, because Tai seems to be taking every opportunity to leg check the other girls when she can.
They end up a pile of panting, sweaty bodies, covered in sand, desperately guzzling down water as they take a break.
Jackie and Shauna have returned from the water too, and join their newly expanding group wrapped in towels.
“You guys look like you were having fun,” Jackie drawls, waving to everyone. “I’m Jackie, by the way.”
“Shauna,” she nods, throwing an arm possessively over Jackie’s shoulders. Nat snorts.
Mari groans, “Are you two also unreasonably good at soccer?” as she dusts the sand off her shorts from when Nat tripped her stealing the ball.
Jackie and Shauna glance at each other. “Jackie was our captain in high school. She scored the winning goal at states—”
“But Shauna’s the fastest,” Jackie cuts her off with a wave of her hand. “You should see her bust ass down the field.”
Shauna rubs the back of her neck, cheeks flushing pink. “Jax, come on…”
Jackie nudges Shauna in the ribs. “You're too modest!”
Nat stares at the group of locals for their reaction— please tell her someone else is seeing this.
“Well, it’s a good thing you guys didn’t join the rest of your friends, then.” Akilah jokes, earning a chuckle from everyone else. “You kicked our asses pretty hard.”
Tai reaches over to high five her. “You guys gave us a good run, though. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
“Totally. Oh, and we can probably get Lottie to join in too—” Melissa glances behind her at Akilah and Mari, who nod. Looking at the rest of their confused faces, Melissa tacks on, “Um, Lottie Matthews. She works with us at the pier.”
Suddenly, Mari bounces on her toes, excited. “That reminds me! You guys should totally come to this party Lottie’s throwing tonight. It’s on—”
Nat resists the urge to glance at her arm, knowing that the ink scribbled on her skin a few days ago has long since been transferred to a piece of paper on their fridge and washed off. “It’s on Bay Avenue, right?”
Mari’s eyes widen. “Yeah, how’d you—”
“We ran into someone at the grocery store,” Nat says, shooting a look at Tai, who looks like she’s about to open her mouth and say something Nat does not need Jackie and Shauna finding out about. Tai squints at her, obviously annoyed to have been cut off; Nat furrows her brows and jerks her head back to the two loaded cannons behind them.
“Yeah,” Tai nods, graciously getting the point, “probably someone else that works on the boardwalk.”
“She did have a uniform on,” Nat mumbles, remembering the polo the girl had been wearing while they talked. “Anyways, we’ll be there.”
“We’ll see you guys there, then!” Gen says, waving excitedly. “It was cool meeting everyone.”
“See you at work on Monday,” Melissa adds, fist bumping Van.
They exchange goodbyes, waving the group off as they make their way back to the road. Nat, Van and Tai collapse back into their chairs, exhausted from the pickup game and running around in the sun.
“Should we call it soon too?” Jackie asks, turning to the rest of them. “I want to shower before we go to the party tonight.”
Tai nods in agreement. “Same. I’m all oily from the sunscreen.”
Van scratches the back of her neck, sheepish. “I may have been a little heavy handed.”
Nat checks the time. They’ve spent most of the afternoon here, and now as it reaches the later parts of the evening, there’s something itching at Nat’s skin that she can’t resist asking.
“We should stay for the sunset,” Nat says, eyes on the horizon.
Jackie starts to say, “It’s actually gonna take me a while to get ready—” before Shauna shoulders her. “Ow, Shauna. Okay, my bad. Let’s stay.”
Nat doesn’t turn to look at them, but she can’t help the soft smile that creeps on her face.
Later, after the sun has finally set and they’ve packed up their things into Shauna’s car and set off back to the house, as Tai and Jackie go back and forth about what they’re planning to wear to the party, Van leans over to Nat and whispers, “It was a good call.”
Nat looks at her, confused. “What, putting the towels over the seats so we track less sand in the car?”
Van punches her in the shoulder. “No, dingus. Watching the sunset.” She gets a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. “Have you ever fuckin’ seen anything like that?”
Nat thinks back to the vivid purples and oranges, the way they reflected in the massive ocean before, the swirl of neon-hazy clouds as the sun dipped below the edge of the Earth. “No,” she says with certainty. “Never.”
Van’s head falls back, thumping against the pale leather seat of Shauna’s car— Mazzy Star serenades them softly from the speakers, one of Jackie and Shauna’s compromise mixtapes , a mix of hand picked songs alternative enough for Shauna and ballad-y enough for Jackie.
“This place is dangerous, Nat.” Van says, after a moment has passed. Nat can see Tai’s hand gripping Van’s tight, fingers interlaced, attached and attentive even as she rolls her eyes at one of Jackie’s jokes. “Don’t you feel it?”
Nat glances out the window as the sky fades rapidly from purple to blue, that soft, evening-light blue before night fully envelops them. “Yeah,” Nat sighs. “I don’t think we belong here, Van.”
And Van gives her this look— eyebrows furrowed— like this was all a test, and Nat failed. Like there was a right and wrong answer, and Nat doesn’t feel confident she passed.
“That’s not what I—”
“Can you turn this song up, Shauna?” Nat asks, suddenly uncomfortable. “I like this song.”
“On it!” Shauna says, turning the dial to the right. As the music fills the car, Nat rests her head against the window and shuts her eyes.
I think it’s strange you never knew.
Jackie does take for-fucking-ever to get ready, but Nat is pretty sure it’s because Shauna keeps calling her into the bathroom to get her final approval on Shauna’s outfit.
Nat is quick. Boots, skirt, band tee and leather jacket— It’s a formula she’s honed and perfected since high school, one that got her out the door quick, never one to waste time primping for school. She’s slept in eyeliner and worn it to school the next day enough times that it formed a habit, but as long as it guaranteed Nat an extra five minutes of sleep in the morning, she really never paid much mind to what others said about her day-old make-up or wrinkled clothes.
Tonight is a special occasion though, and, not knowing who she might run into at the party tonight, Nat redoes her mascara, puts on fresh lipstick, even fixes the layers in her fringe, which is already starting to grow out from the last time she cut it. She can’t do anything about the wrinkles in her Smashing Pumpkins shirt, since it came straight from the bag she has yet to fully unpack.
She loiters in the living room with her roommates as they wait for the other two to emerge from the bathroom, pregaming with Van from the bottle of tequila Jackie was so kind as to steal for them from her dad’s cabinet after they found out Ocean City was a dry town. When Jackie had called to let them know she and Shauna had the weekend off and wanted to visit, she had asked the three of them if there was anything they needed she could bring down for them, and their answers had been… concise.
“Booze,” Nat had said.
“Yeah, booze, please.”
Tai had leaned into the receiver, “Tequila, preferably.”
“Oh!” Nat exclaimed, suddenly remembering another essential they had forgotten. “Weed, too.”
Jackie, never one to leave a friend hanging, had obliged beautifully.
So Van and Nat take turns sipping from the tequila bottle, the expensive liquor going down easy and sweet. Nat can tell why Jackie's dad likes this stuff. She just hopes he doesn’t like it enough to miss it.
“Thanks for driving tonight, Tai,” Nat hums. She’s pleasantly warm from the tequila, her words a little looser, fingertips buzzing in a way that’s familiar, comforting.
“I don’t mind,” Tai nods. “Shauna offered, but she’s a guest, so— her and Jackie should have fun tonight.”
Van snorts, cradling the bottle in her arms— despite them drinking about the same amount, Van is slightly more tipsy than Nat, having never been able to match her tolerance. “Not too much fun, hopefully. Not on your uncles…. poor… couch.”
Tai watches Van pat the couch gingerly with a love-sick smile on her face. Nat likes when her friends are like this— in the dark of night, slightly inebriated, walls lowered. Tai and Van’s relationship isn’t exactly a secret, but it’s not exactly something they speak openly about either. It’s something that just is , and Nat likes it when they let her in to all the ways that they are .
“We could only be so lucky,” Tai says, leaning over to press a kiss to Van’s temple, and Nat looks away, smiling.
“Not me,” Van says, passing the bottle to Nat’s lap so she can wrap her arms around Tai’s waist. “Nat has ten bucks on me if the two of them do it—”
The bathroom door suddenly slams open. “Do what?” Jackie calls, sing-songy, her voice echoing down their short hallway.
“Speak of the devil,” Tai chuckles.
“Get blackout tonight,” Nat covers easily, while Van struggles to regain her composure. “Van thinks you’ll tap before Shauna.”
Jackie pouts. “Unfair, Van.”
“Can you blame me?” Smooth recovery. “Shauna always drinks you under the table, dude.”
Jackie scoffs. “And to think, Van, I got you this—” she produces the bag of weed from seemingly out of nowhere, holding it out to Van before snatching it back. “You can have it after I prove you wrong.”
Van heaves an exaggerated sigh. Her head lolls over to glance at Nat. “I guess that means we're never getting high again, then.”
Through everyone’s laughter, Jackie yanks the tequila bottle from Nat’s lap and twists the top off, immediately bringing it to her pink-tinted lips and taking a heavy swig. Nat chases after it, but Jackie bats her off with one arm.
“Whoa, Jackie, chill—”
Shauna pries the bottle gently from Jackie’s hand as she takes increasingly deeper gulps.
“Ease up, Jax,” Shauna murmurs as she slowly coaxes the bottle away. “There’s gonna be drinks at the party, remember?”
In lieu of a response, Jackie flips everyone off.
“Okay, real mature, Jackie,” Tai groans. “God, I’m already starting to regret offering to drive tonight. Shauna, I see the joint tucked behind your ear— do not light that up in the house or Van’s truck, please.”
Shauna, already halfway reaching for the aforementioned joint, lighter clutched between her fingers, groans, “But Van smokes in her truck, Tai.”
“Well, I’m driving tonight,” Tai rolls her eyes, “and I don’t like the smell.”
Shauna looks to Van desperately in hopes of overruling Tai’s command, but Van just shrugs. “Tai’s in charge tonight, Shauna. Her word is god.”
Shauna looks like she’s about to press the issue, but Jackie lays a calming hand on her forearm, effectively shushing her. “Wait until we’re outside, Shipman. I’m wearing my nice perfume tonight, you don’t want to cover that up with smoke, do you?”
Shauna, dazed by those fluttering eyelashes of Jackie’s, shakes her head no, and the whole thing is basically settled.
They slip on their jackets and stumble out to the truck, Tai spinning Van’s ring of keys on her finger. As Nat squeezes into the back bench, squished between the door and Shauna, she feels the girl beside her wrestle something into her palm.
“In case you want to sneak off tonight,” Shauna whispers. Nat glances down into her open hand and finds another joint, a perfectly packed tight roll. She inspects it closely, then nods with approval to Shauna. She’s learned much since the first time she stole a hit from one of Nat’s joints at a Jeff Sadecki house party, the two of them sitting awkwardly by his pool, scintillating blue light illuminating Nat’s hands as she taught Shauna how to grind the weed with the bottom of a lighter, fold the filter, and twist the whole thing together.
“You’ve learned much, padawan,” Nat returns, trying and failing to do an impression of the ugly green puppet from that sci-fi movie Van made her watch during finals week.
Shauna raises an eyebrow. “Was that you trying to do Yoda?”
“Yo-da fucking worst,” Nat bites back.
For some reason that makes Shauna burst into a fit of wheezing, coughing laughter, so loud that the rest of the car turns to look at them.
“Are you guys good back there?” Tai asks, squinting suspiciously at them.
Nat sinks deeper into the seat, embarrassment burning red-hot on her face. “Fucking drive , Tai.”
When they pull up to the house on Bay Avenue, the party is in full swing like nothing Nat has ever seen before.
Part of what stuns her is the sheer size of the house they park in front of. It’s as big as Jackie’s, if not bigger, but it's directly on the Ocean City waterfront, and behind stout picket fencing Nat swears she sees a private dock jut into the ocean behind it. There's a small crowd on the front lawn gathered around a firepit, a group of girls lingering on the porch in a mix of bathing suits and sundresses, and the tall double doors are open to a wide foyer Nat can barely make out but knows, with her party sixth sense, is undoubtedly packed with people.
Tai pulls the truck into one of the street spots and lets the engine sputter to a stop. She turns around in her seat to face everyone.
“Okay. We need a game plan. We’ve never been to this house before. We need a meet up spot in case things go south. How do we feel about the kitchen?”
Nat’s about to respond with a dry sir yes sir when Jackie, who has been slowly feeling the effects of the tequila the whole car ride and is now failing in her effort to prove Van wrong , also spots the dock in the backyard of the house, squeals “ Ohmygodyouguyswehavetogoskinnydippingnow! ” reaches over Shauna’s lap and climbs over her to unlock the door and let herself out, and then takes off running towards the gate.
“Okay,” Tai drawls. “Or we could do that.”
“I’ll go find Jackie,” Shauna sighs, unbuckling her seatbelt to give chase.
“Okay, Nat, I know you’re gonna get crossed tonight and forget, so remember– kitchen for emergencies and regrouping, if you meet the host, make sure to thank her–”
Nat is nodding along, but stops listening when she sees a tall figure making her way around the house, up the porch, dark hair flowing around her shoulders. Her face is lit slightly by a burning cigarette, but Nat would know her even without the orange embers dancing around her nose and jaw. Supermarket angel.
“Mmmhmm, kitchen, host. Got it, Tai.” Nat opens the door on her side, already sliding out when she yells, “Catch you guys later!”
Trying not to look like an absolute weirdo, Nat walks as purposely as she can to follow the familiar figure as she disappears into the house. She passes the group around the firepit, shoulders through the girls chatting on the porch. When she crosses the mahogany doors into the massive foyer Nat had glanced, she’s annoyed to find she was right– this house is fucking packed . Supermarket angel is nowhere to be seen.
A little overwhelmed by how suddenly thrust into the party she is, Nat takes a second to reestablish her bearings. There’s a wide, curving staircase leading up to the second floor of the house, mostly blocked off by people sitting and drinking on the steps. An open archway to her left leads to what looks like a living room of some kind, where a small crowd has gathered around a keg stand and music blasts from a stereo system, filling the whole house with the upbeat electric sound of a Blur song; another similar open archway to her right leads to the makings of a dining room, in which a long, elegant, hand carved wooden table is currently being defaced by a handful of surfer-types doing body shots.
Neither of those spaces really speaks to Nat, so she soldiers past the people around her to enter a small hallway across from the entrance. Past the couples making out in the relative quiet, leaned up against locked doors and framed artwork, Nat turns a corner and finds the kitchen, finally, and a few familiar faces.
“Natalie!” A voice calls out, excited, and Nat is greeted by the group from the beach. Melissa and Gen are leaning against the kitchen island, fully engrossed in the selection of alcohol available. Melissa appears to be mixing peach schnapps, pineapple vodka, and apple brandy together, a move which Nat simultaneously cringes at and respects deeply. Gen is trying to dissuade her from it, but looks up for a moment to wave to Nat.
Mari, the judgy one, is the one who greeted her first, and she's sitting on the counter next to the sink, where Akilah is holding her hand under the running tap, washing off blood from a deep gash over Mari's knuckles.
They are all, absolutely, visibly, shitfaced.
“Hey guys,” Nat gives them all a wave. She jerks her head to Mari and the sink. “Everything okay in here?”
Akilah looks up from the stream of water to make eye contact with Natalie, desperation— or exasperation— evident on her face. “She tripped on a rock and fell into a planter,” She sighs, and Nat gets the feeling this is something that happens often . “She's lucky nothing broke, or else Lottie would kick your ass .”
The last half of the sentence is clearly delivered to Mari, but it reminds Nat of what Tai had said to her as she jumped out of the car. Thank the host .
“Do you guys know where Lottie is?” Nat looks around, like the elusive hostess might be hiding in the fridge. “Tai is really big on party etiquette, and— anyways, she just wants us to thank her for having us, or something.”
Mari takes a swig of liquid neon orange and asks, “Are you guys, like, time travelers from the forties or something?”
Nat laughs to herself. “No, we’re just from a backwards town where people care about that bullshit.”
“Lottie will think it’s cute.” Akilah says, flashing Nat a reassuring smile. “I think I saw her cut through the laundry room to the backyard. Just go through the door at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks, Akilah.” Nat gives a two finger salute, then proceeds out of the kitchen to make her way down the rest of the hall.
The laundry room is no harder to find than the kitchen, and Nat only has to brush past one gyrating couple to get there. She passes racks of drying towels and silent silver washing machines worth ten times Nat’s old trailer. The lights are off and Nat doesn’t bother to find a lightswitch, but the door to the backyard is mostly screen and thus allows Nat to navigate her way through the small room by the dull moonlight creeping through the edges of the door frame. She unlatches the door with a soft click, letting herself out of the house and onto a back patio occupied by deck chairs and smoking party-goers.
It’s like in that moment, standing in the cloud of cold summer air and thick smoke, that Nat remembers the purpose of a party at all, and reaches into her pocket for the joint Shauna had slipped her in the car. In case you want to sneak off tonight , Shauna had said, because although Nat liked to share her smokes just fine, she enjoyed wandering off into the darkness and taking deep, lung-settling drags solo more, and here now separated from her friends Nat felt that familiar social itch to put something (a drink, a cigarette, a stranger’s lips) between her own lips and indulge.
Patting her pockets for her lighter and coming up empty, scowling remembering how she left her lighter on the windowsill of her bedroom after sneaking in a smoke before Jackie and Shauna pulled up this morning, Nat turns to the group of loiterers beside her. “Anybody got a light?” she asks.
Glassy-eyed and not all there, the group turns to look at one member in particular, a tall boy with a mop of dark hair who Nat would certainly call handsome by Wiskayok standards, had she not already been hunting a different kind of prey tonight. Reaching into his faded trucker jacket, he pulls out a lighter and flicks it to life in front of Nat’s joint.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, around the dry paper between her lips. Takes a thick drag and exhales, her smoke mingling with the cloud that already surrounds them. “Hey, you seen Lottie Matthews come through here?”
Squinting, like he has to focus on each individual word to understand the full sentence, the guy takes a moment to respond, “Yeah, I think she went down to the dock.”
Nat glances down to the private dock. In the darkness, she can make out the shape of a couple bodies, but no one in particular. She nods, turning back to look at floppy-hair-guy. “I’m Natalie.”
He looks at her, curiosity peaking through behind the fog in his eyes. “Hey, Natalie.”
“Are you planning on introducing yourself, or—”
“Oh,” He shoots up in his seat, extending a hand out for Nat to shake. Nat eyes it, laughing at him without laughing. “I’m Travis.”
Feeling generous, Nat shakes his hand. “See you around, Travis.”
Puffing on her joint, feeling pleasantly warm now and tingly in her tongue in the way that Rich’s weed always makes her feel, because he gets it from his cousin who has a buddy in California and the stuff from the West coast has always hit Nat the hardest and best, she stumbles down the patio stairs. She can still hear that Blur album playing inside, muffled by the walls of the house, as she makes her way through the pretentiously manicured grass lawn to the little man-made jetty at the waterfront.
As she gets closer, the silver moonlight reflects off the water and her eyes adjust to the lack of light to start making out the formless creatures a bit better. She almost instinctively searches for bodies in the water, a brunette and an almost-blonde, and absently wonders if Shauna managed to talk Jackie away from the water or if they’ve both just drowned.
Eyes trailing the edge of the private beach, Nat settles on a once again familiar form in a tight black dress and white cardigan. She’s sitting, legs dangling off the side of the dock. Excitement rushes through her as she kicks off her boots and socks and carries them in her hand, feeling coarse sand beneath her feet as she makes her way over to Supermarket Angel.
“Funny seeing you here,” Nat greets, as she lowers herself down to sit next to her.
The girl startles slightly, looking at Nat with wide eyes before relaxing as she recognizes the familiar face. A small smile emerges, revealing a toothy white grin that Nat can’t help but match.
“Funny seeing you ,” Supermarket Angel retorts easily. “Enjoying the party?”
“Oh, sure. Two of my friends sprinted off the moment we got here and I’ve been on a wild goose chase the entire night trying to find the owner of this house because my other friend is totally anal about party etiquette,” Nat scoffs, “like anyone in this fucking mansion even keeps track of who’s coming and going.” She takes another deep drag of her joint, avoiding the pair of eyes boring into her skin. “You don’t happen to know Lottie Matthews, do you?”
There’s a hitch of breath— a half laugh, incomplete— Nat looks over. “I guess I’ve been a bad host.” Supermarket Angel sticks her hand out for Nat to shake. “I’m, um— I’m Lottie Matthews.”
It’s the second hand that's been offered to her tonight. Ocean City kids— real big on handshakes, Nat is learning.
“Holy shit.” Nat says. Doesn’t shake Supermarket— Lottie’s hand. “Listen, if I had known you were her— Lottie, I mean, duh, of course you're Lottie— you never gave me your name in the store, and,” Nat’s running her mouth faster than her cross-faded brain can catch up. “I wouldn't have said all that dumb shit about your house.”
“It is a pretty dumb house.”
“I mean, fuck, a dock? What the fuck do you even do with a dock in your backyard?”
Lottie laughs, low and quiet, and fuck if it doesn’t set off fireworks in the spot where her heart usually is. “For the private yacht, of course, and the private cruise, for all my butlers.”
“Of course!” Nat taps her head like she’s forgotten something. “How else would the butlers get around without the cruise.” She closes the handshake, letting her fingertips brush against the skin of Lottie’s wrist. “Nat.”
“Nice to meet you, Nat.” Lottie ducks her head, suddenly, like she’s embarrassed about something. “I don’t know why I didn’t ask you for your name in the grocery store. Or why I didn’t give you mine. I think part of me thought…” Lottie trails off, gazing towards the water, towards the tiny ripples that echo out beneath their dangling feet. “I guess I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”
“Hey,” Nat says. “Pretty girl invites me to a party— who the hell am I to say no?”
Lottie looks up at her then. In the pale moonlight, Nat can’t stop looking at her eyes, thinking about how dark and pretty and wide they are.
“Do you want to do something crazy?”
“Sure,” Nat says. Her whole body is buzzing with intoxication and excitement. “Please don’t respond to that with ‘ I’m crazy, do me’. ”
Lottie fucking blushes. Actually blushes. “No, I— do you want to get out of here?”
Nat barks out a laugh, but when she realizes Lottie is serious, she leans back. “Dude, isn’t this your party?”
“You said it yourself.” Lottie whispers, “No one in this house cares about who’s coming and who’s going.”
“Fuck it. Better than fifth wheeling with my dumbass friends all night.” Nat jumps to her feet, swaying slightly from the quick motion. Holy fuck, she is so close to falling in the water. She steadies herself, extends a hand for Lottie to take.
“Wait, actually?” Lottie looks around. “I was half joking. I’m drunk, Nat, don’t listen to me.”
“C’mon,” Nat shakes her hand towards Lottie. “Don’t tell me you’re too fucking chicken to ditch your own party.”
Lottie squints. “I’m not chicken.”
“Seem pretty chicken to me.”
There’s a tense moment of standoff— Nat, with her shit-eating grin, Lottie, on her ass staring up at Nat with wide eyes— until Lottie finally reaches up and grabs Nat’s hand. She pulls the taller girl to her feet.
“Where to next?” Nat asks. Lottie is frozen in thought, staring outwards towards her house— then she grabs Nat’s hand tight.
“I know a spot,” Lottie says, and fuck that line has never worked for Nat before, so why is she so willing to drop everything and take off running with someone now?
Lottie’s spot is the neighbor's house.
Lottie drags her, running barefoot through the sand, across the beach until they reach a tall wooden fence separating the two properties.
“Lottie,” Nat draws out the name. “What are we doing here?”
“Some light breaking and entering,” Lottie says, rattling fence posts seemingly at random. “Don’t tell me you’re not the type.”
Nat raises an eyebrow. “You sure know how to treat a girl.”
“That’s what they tell me.” The next fence post Lottie moves pops clean off its wooden railing. Lottie leans it up to the side. “Alright, you go first.”
Nat eyes the newly-created gap in the fence. “You want me to squeeze through that ?” she asks, incredulous. “I don’t know if I can fit my ass through.”
Lottie turns to look, which— whoa, okay— “If I can fit, so can you. I’ve done this before.”
Nat steps back, crosses her arms, “Fine. You go first then.”
Lottie adjusts the hem of her dress so it’s pulled down around her knees, slips off her cardigan and ties it tight around her waist. She goes shoulders first, and for someone so tall , Nat is surprised for how quick she makes it through the slip. A little shimmy of her arms, twist of her waist; Lottie has made it clean through, and now it’s Nat’s turn.
Nat takes off her leather jacket and balls it up, tossing it through the crack in the fence. Lottie catches it in her arms. “I don’t want it to tear,” Nat says, eyeing the untreated edges of the fence posts she's about to force herself through. “That’s my only jacket.”
“You’re stalling,” Lottie says, a teasing glint in her eye. “C’mon, Nat. If you get stuck I’ll pull you out.”
“Not reassuring at all,” Nat grumbles, but she takes a deep breath and, copying Lottie’s movements, Nat pushes herself though. Shoulders first, arms out— she’s a little, well, boobier than Lottie is, and so she gets stuck and panics for a moment, but a deep breath and well-timed worm of her body gets her through, and she stumbles to her feet on the other side of the fence.
Lottie’s neighbor’s backyard is similar to Lottie’s in the sense that it’s so well maintained it looks like it could pass for a park— flat green grass making way for the loose sand of their own private waterfront, carefully selected foliage in swirling patterns around walkways and expensive looking planters behind the house. But where Lottie’s backyard was all expansive lawn and empty space, there’s evidence of life here.
A children’s playset with a slide and a short rock climbing wall takes up much of the yard, while a wide, wooden bench swings dangles from the thick branch of an ancient oak tree.
Nat lets out a low whistle. “Not a bad set-up your neighbors have here.”
“They have a couple of kids,” Lottie says, almost wistfully, “but they only live here during the late summer. The whole place is empty most of the year.”
“Including now?” Nat looks at the closed blinds, the dark house.
“Especially now.”
Lottie looks at Nat for a brief moment— looks at Nat’s jacket in her arms— and then takes off into a sprint towards the swing.
“Lottie!” Nat yelps, chasing after her. “Give me my fucking jacket!”
Halfway to the swing Lottie’s cardigan comes loose from her waist and falls to the grass, so she slips her arms through Nat’s leather jacket instead. Fuck, Lottie is fast — Nat is panting as she sprints after her, stopping only to snatch up Lottie’s cardigan from the ground.
Lottie reaches the swing first, of course, launching herself up to perch on it. The momentum of her hop makes the ropes twist and sway, and Lottie clutches them, laughing manically as she pitches back and forth.
Nat approaches slowly, waiting until she’s clear from the reach of Lottie’s long outstretched legs before she reaches out and tugs the swing to a stop.
The bench is wide enough for them to squeeze in together, so Nat throws Lottie’s sweater over her shoulder and hops up to share the seat. They sway gently, shoulders brushing.
“This is nice,” Lottie whispers. Her eyes are looking up, towards the sky, where an array of glimmering white and yellow stars hang between them. “I’m glad we left.”
Nat nods. “You really nailed me. There’s nothing I love more than breaking into other people’s houses.”
Lottie chuckles. “I swear, I don’t usually make a habit of sneaking off with someone in the middle of a roaring party.”
“Oh, really?” Nat places a hand on Lottie’s thigh just above the knee, her fingertips grazing the edge of Lottie’s dress. “‘Cause I do.”
In the darkness, when Lottie turns to look at Nat, her eyes are as black as the night sky above them, and just as staggering. Lottie’s breath hitches.
“I think I want to do something I’m going to regret,” Lottie says.
Nat’s hand travels higher, her fingers pulsing with unspoken want— she squeezes the soft meat of Lottie’s thigh, just to see how she responds.
Lottie’s eyes flutter closed. She exhales, softly, through her nose.
“What makes you think you’ll regret it?” Nat asks. She’s leaning towards Lottie, drawn in by some inescapable force. The closer she gets, the more she notices about Lottie— the way her hair curls gently at her temples, the bow of her lips, the tiny wrinkle between her brow.
“Just a feeling,” Lottie whispers, breathy.
Nat asks, “Are you still drunk?”
Lottie nods. “Are you?”
Nat shrugs. Asks, throat a little bit tight, “Do you want me to stop?” and Lottie stares at her, silent, before reaching a hand up to the collar of Nats shirt, to her silver chain. She threads her fingers around it, tugging gently at the metal, and it bites against Nat’s neck as she lets herself be pulled forward— says, loud and clear—
“Absolutely not.”
— and drags Nat into her, crashing against Lottie’s lips.
Nat learns many things about Lottie Matthews that night.
Learns that Lottie is a biter. She starts off gentle, teasing Nat’s lip with her teeth, grazing the plump skin, nipping and tugging. When their mouths part and Nat’s tongue slips beyond the barrier of Lottie’s lips, licking into her mouth and pressing up against Lottie’s flat tongue, Nat learns that Lottie likes to pull, too— pull on Nat’s hair, pull on her chain, pull her hand further up Lottie’s thigh until it reaches soft heat, the hem of shorts—
“Natalie!”
Nat curses under her breath, pulling away from Lottie. She glances frantically around, but sees no one. They're still alone. Maybe she was imagining it? Nat leans back in towards Lottie—
A voice, distant, but oh so familiar. “Natalie! Where the fuck are you!”
Fuck. Jackie .
“Do you…” Lottie trails off, her voice is flushed, chest heaving. Her eyes flick down to where Natalie’s hand still rests beneath her dress.
“It’s my friend.” Nat groans. Pulls her hand back so she can drop her head into it. “Look, I’m sorry, but if they’re looking for me it’s really important—”
“It’s okay,” Lottie coos. Her hand is still curved around the back of Nat’s neck, but she moves it down to her cheek, letting her thumb graze the line of Nat’s jaw. “I kept you away from the party for too long.”
“Not long enough.” Nat grumbles.
“Natalie!” Jackie is getting closer to the fence, or she’s getting louder, somehow. “A bunch of stoners told me they saw you come this way with someone else, so I know you're back here!”
“Fuck.” Nat lowers herself from the swing, dusting off the dirt and wood shards from her skirt, and extends a hand to help let Lottie down. “ I’m coming, Jackie! Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
That last part is said quiet enough that only Lottie hears it, of course.
Approaching the fence together, Nat hears Jackie speaking to herself— “Swear to god, Nat, if you're on the other side of this fence with another dirtbag, washed up, loser boy, I'm dragging you back to Wiskayok with me—”
Nat forces her way through the hole in the fence, Lottie's cardigan thrown around her shoulders, her jacket tight around Lottie's arms, hand in hand.
Jackie looks at her— at them.
Nat smiles.
“And you are—”
“Lottie Matthews,” Lottie says. Her other hand is tucked into the pocket of Nat's jacket. “You must be Jackie.”
“In the flesh.” Jackie does a little flourish with her hand and a short twirl. “You throw a good party, Lottie Matthews.”
Lottie shrugs. There's a gentle, endeared smile on her face when she looks at Nat and says, “I’ve never met so many people with such good manners.”
“It’s Tai’s thing,” Nat and Jackie sigh, simultaneously. Lottie’s smile somehow grows more endeared.
“Speaking of,” Nat looks at Jackie quizzically.
“Inside. Probably making out with Van.” Jackie makes a practiced gagging motion that Nat knows is all facade.
“Shauna?”
“Trying to find them.” Jackie sways a little on her feet. “We’re gonna get pancakes. S’why I came to get you.”
“Jackie, where the fuck are we gonna get pancakes this late?”
“There’s a Denny’s just out of town,” Lottie chimes in, and Nat glares at her like please don’t encourage this .
Jackie grins. “Good stuff, Matthews. You should tag along.”
It’s then that Lottie’s hand slips from Nat’s grip. “I can’t, sorry. I gotta—” she jerks her head back towards that towering house.
“C’mon, Lottie,” Nat sighs. “Don’t leave me with Jackie.”
“Rude, Nat.” Jackie isn’t watching them— her eyes are turned up towards the back patio, where three familiar figures emerge clutching beer bottles and wading through a cloud of smoke. Jackie turns back to Nat and waves her hand, telling her to hurry up.
Lottie shakes her head. “Somebody has to watch the house.”
She starts to slip Nat’s jacket off, but Nat raises a hand. “No, keep it,” she murmurs, like if she’s quiet enough Jackie won’t hear, and they’ll return to the privacy they had just moments ago. “We can trade next time I see you.”
Lottie’s eyes go wide. Her hand freezes on the jacket lapel.
“I will see you again, right?”
A nod. “It’s a small town, Nat. You can’t miss me.”
Nat can’t help the tight smile that tugs at her lips. Even with Jackie standing there, Nat leans forward to press a kiss to the soft skin of Lottie’s cheek, and feels warmth rise up to meet her.
“See you around, Lottie,” Nat whispers into Lottie’s ear, and then she pulls away.
Later, at the Denny’s, after they’ve all got their massive stacks of pancakes drenched in syrup and fruit, Tai looks up between bites and asks, “Did you guys ever meet Lottie? Van and I couldn’t find her all night.”
Jackie whips her head towards Nat; Nat flushes pink all the way up to her ears.
“Oh, Nat definitely met Lottie —”
A piece of bacon flies across the table and smacks Jackie square in the forehead.