Chapter Text
Josie was walking down the halls, heading to the senior lockers when she overheard Sebastian wailing like a toddler.
“It was some Paranormal Activity absurdity, I swear,” he dramatized, “I was being dragged across the floors by air!”
“What crack did you smoke, dude?” Jed hissed, nudging his shoulder.
Josie snickered. It was what he deserved after the past year of unprovoked torment. Maybe she should mess with Jed a bit, too. Hope would most likely help her; they definitely bonded over the prank they pulled on Sebastian.
She steered clear of them nonetheless. Any confrontation with the popular kids usually left her with reinforced insecurities and ruined clothes, so it was best to keep to herself. Besides, she was on a mission to return a certain someone’s jersey.
She heard about the lacrosse game tonight, apparently they were going to play against their biggest rivals—the Beacon Hills Cyclones.
Josie could care less for sports. She lacked hand-eye coordination, or any coordination, really. She was practically Bambi on ice at all times of the day.
She was beginning to think Hope wasn’t at school, seconds away from giving up on her search, but when the warning bell rang out, she finally found the older girl. She was clad in a burgundy crop top and high-waist jeans with black booties to give her extra height. She needed them considering how tiny she was.
Somehow, Hope made being short adorable.
She was talking to a girl with dark curls and a caramel tan complexion. Josie vaguely recognized her as one of the cheerleaders. Her brother might be the football team’s quarterback if she could remember correctly.
Josie wasn’t one to interrupt a conversation, waiting for a pause in discussion so she could assert herself. Yet this time was different. She couldn’t quite place it, but in that moment, she felt ten feet tall.
“Hi Hope.” She sifted through her backpack before handing the jersey back to the witch, barely acknowledging the cheerleader. “I came to drop this off.”
“I was going to find you after school,” Hope said, immediately lighting up. Something tightened in Josie’s stomach at the thought. The older girl seeking her out was rare in occurrence, but always was a pleasant surprise. “But thank you.”
Josie shrugged, faking nonchalance. “You have a game tonight, yeah?”
“Mhmm,” Hope nodded, opening up her locker and tossing in her jersey. “Maya here is going to be cheering front and center.”
Maya smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She radiated a natural confidence that Josie rarely ever emanated.
“And I will look damn good doing it,” Maya declared, winking and blowing a kiss to some girl on the opposite side of the hall.
“Are you going to watch, Saltzman?” Hope asked with a look of… anticipation almost? Did Hope want her to go?
“I might have to photograph for the yearbook,” Josie mentioned, retaining her composure. She actually wasn’t a photographer, only an editor, but she could ask Wade for this one, small favor. “Wade took a lacrosse stick to the face, so I don’t think he’s too keen on taking sports pictures anymore.”
Hope laughed—it was sweet and a little more than contagious. The warmth that spread across Josie’s skin and settled in her chest wasn’t a new feeling. Hope always had this effect on her, capable of brightening her day in minutes.
“It’s a date then,” she grinned, closing her locker with her shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“I can’t believe you dragged me to a lacrosse game,” Lizzie groaned, wrapping a blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Sebastian doesn’t even play lacrosse. He’s on the swim team.”
Josie’s breath curled into wisps of gray, condensing with the sharp drop in temperature. Her fingers were numb, stiff as they clung to the camera in hand. It was late February, which still qualified as winter, and she only had a zip-up and jeans to keep her warm.
She had a blanket, too. But what was hers was also her twin’s.
“Wade doesn’t want to do sports pictures anymore,” she said, rubbing her palms together because maybe, just maybe it would keep her hands warm. “And Raf has work tonight, so he couldn’t make it.”
“Aren’t there like twelve other nerds who could do it?” Lizzie whined, startling when MG sat down next to her on the bleachers. “When I said I would let you plan twin night, this wasn’t how I expected it to go.”
“Hey Ladies,” MG plastered on a blinding smile, emitting an easy-going demeanor that Josie needed in the moment. “Ready for the Timberwolves to kick Cyclone ass!”
“No.”
“Is our team even that good?”
MG paused, unprepared for blatant pessimism. The twins met him freshman year, back when he wasn’t a vampire yet. He was struggling with his transitions, still wary of situations that involve blood—like high school sports games.
But the twins were capable of disarming him if it ever came down to it.
MG placed his hand over his heart, leaning back. “Where’s the school spirit? Why come to a game with a losing attitude?”
“I’m here for the yearbook,” Josie raised her shoulders, bringing the camera up to her face when she noticed the teams running onto the field.
“And I’m here for twin moral support.” Lizzie cocooned herself more in the blanket, sending her twin a withering glare. She said that as if Josie was a charity case.
In this cold weather, maybe she was.
MG deflated, knowing his optimism to be useless in the face of the twins. Josie spent most of the game confused, snapping pictures at faceless players because their helmets made it difficult to distinguish who was who. She barely payed any attention to the cheerleaders who were tumbling on the sidelines, but she gave them the courtesy of capturing their stunts.
When Hope came sprinting over, Josie could tell by the three emblazoned on the front of her jersey, the ocean eyed girl lifted her helmet up. A layer of sweat glistened against her skin, shining brighter due to the stadium lights, and two black stripes were smeared across her cheekbones. Her eyes were brighter than normal, and her pale features were tinted red.
With every winded exhale, a frost of smoke filtered into the night.
Josie couldn’t look away.
“Saltzman, get my good side will you?” Hope grinned, winking at her.
If Josie was rapidly clicking on the camera button, she wouldn’t know until later when she looked through her photos. But for now, she swallowed down the lump in her throat and quipped with a smirk, “Do you even have a good side?”
Lizzie bursted out laughing beside her, clinging onto MG before she’d accidentally fall off the bleachers. Josie didn't know where this confidence stemmed from, how she was able to be witty when it came to banter with the Mikaelson.
Hope chuckled, this low and sensual laugh that flushed Josie’s skin and left her feeling warm all over. With a shake of her head and a fond smile, Hope pulled down her helmet and ran back to her position.
When Josie finally differentiated between each player by their jersey number, she recognized Jed running around the field every time they scored while Hope remained calm and collected, preparing for the next play. It was then that Josie realized the Mikaelson was the only girl on the team, surrounded by a sea of testosterone filled boys.
She was evading and outsmarting the opposing team with precision, always providing Jed and other score goalers—Josie had no clue what the names of the positions were—with openings that were accessible and led to easy scoring.
She was a complete machine on the field.
Hope had the agility and reaction times of a werewolf. Josie noticed this after marveling over her for at least an hour. But that would be impossible, considering she’s a witch. Well, not technically impossible seeing as her father was the Original Hybrid.
Josie dismissed the thought completely. Hope might’ve developed some enhancement potion or spell for all she knew.
Cheering erupted from the stands, and they won which was a little surprising considering the Cyclones were flipping over players like it was nothing. Josie wondered if there were any werewolves or vampires on the other team, aware that most of the Mystic Falls werewolf pack played on most sports teams.
Josie ended up in the middle of the field, snapping close up pictures of the Timberwolves’ victory. Everyone was shouting, stomping on the bleachers and hoisting up their captains onto their shoulders. She was too invested in capturing the moment that she didn’t notice the pack of players running to Jed with a giant water jug in hand.
She felt it before really seeing it, but a shriek careened past her throat and a shiver shot down her spine. Water drenched her clothes and doused the camera. She was trembling.
A few of the boys were laughing at her, smacking each other’s backs as if they did something honorable. It was sickening. Their amused exhales crawled under her skin, burrowing within her bones like poison.
Combined with the freezing weather, the icy water shot awake her senses, and like gasoline on an open fire, she was fuming.
Jed was shouting next to her, something akin to a “hell yeah!”
It wasn’t a conscious decision when she reached out, snatching the collar of his jersey. A growl scraped against his throat, and he leered down at her, threatening gaze shining molten gold.
Scarlet blazed from the hold she had on him, siphoning the adrenaline high he was riding. She dragged it out of him, invigorating herself with a fury werewolves were known for. There was a fire in her belly, raging and flaring, begging for release.
“Not here, Saltzman,” he snarled, pushing her off of him.
Hope was quick to save her from further embarrassment, catching her before she fell on her ass. Her arms hooked under Josie’s armpits, steadying her. She glided their hands together, clasping them firmly and leading her down to the locker rooms.
All the tension held in Josie’s muscles released. She focused on Hope’s stability, the steady way she guided her. Surrendering control to her was easy. She didn’t want this boundless intensity that was threatening to consume her.
It craved for her to take more.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Josie mumbled, watching her feet take one step in front of the other. If she concentrated hard enough, maybe a fissure would appear to swallow her whole—wipe everyone’s memory of her. Maybe it would dry her too because she’s fucking cold.
With a reassuring squeeze, Hope comforted her, “You’re supernatural. You felt threatened.”
“My fuse usually isn’t this short.” She bit her lip, a struggle warring inside her head. There were lingering flames, still hungry for a fight.
Hope shrugged. “We have our bad days. And you didn’t end up hurting anyone, so I’d say that’s a win.”
Josie looked at her then, really looked. Her helmet was off, allowing her two french braids to fall freely. Grass stains littered her uniform, and there was a gash along her calf. Her hand was clammy in her own, excess sweat from her hard work.
She was a force of nature, and Josie was clinging to her.
She wondered what was going on inside her head—why she even decided to help Josie in the first place. It was unexpected because for the past three years, Hope would barely look her way, barely acknowledge her existence.
What changed?
The girls’ locker room was empty, only filled with stuffed lockers and relatively clean showers. It was eerily silent, only the hum of the overhead lights filtered throughout the area.
Josie gently placed the camera on a bench. “I don’t suppose you know any technology drying spells,” she asked sheepishly, playing with the sleeves of her soaked sweater.
“I do actually,” Hope snorted, tossing a clean hoodie at her. “You can change while I work on it.”
“Thanks again.” Josie tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, joking, “Maybe I should start bringing an extra set of clothes everywhere I go.”
Hope looked up through long lashes, fiddling with the camera in hand. “You look good in my clothes though,” she cheekily replied with a shit eating grin.
Josie’s heart skipped a beat, and she was grateful that Hope didn’t have supernatural hearing.
It’d be embarrassing. Her heart practically stuttered every time she was with her.
Josie didn’t understand why her eyes burned every time she saw Hope with Landon. She was happy for her, truly, because everyone within the supernatural community ostracized her for being a Mikaelson. So it was reasonable for her to befriend humans, but...
Her throat was constricting in the familiar way that it would when trying to choke back a sob.
It was disconcerting to say the least.
Like now, Josie was on her way to gardening club, ready to spend the afternoon practicing magic with Lizzie while subtly admiring Hope. She was texting her mom, reminding her that Lizzie and her would be home later and that they expected to have a girls’ night with her.
Of course, when Josie didn’t pay attention to where she was walking, things always seemed to go wrong.
“I’ve never been to the Spring Festival before, maybe we should—”
Her phone jostled in her hands and slipped out of her grip as she bumped into someone, but before it hit the linoleum floor, two hands grabbed onto it.
“Fuck sorry,” Josie grumbled under her breath, looking up.
Hope, with incredibly sharp reflexes, had picked her phone out of the air before it smashed against the ground. Handing it back, her eyes crinkled at the corners. “My lacrosse reflexes aren’t that bad, huh?”
“They’re subpar,” Josie replied, lips quirked the slightest. “Could be better.”
Hope rolled her eyes, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Landon slung his arm over her shoulders, cutting in, “Hey, Josie right?”
Josie had the sudden urge to flat out ignore him, but she remained genial despite the annoyance. “Yeah, Landon right? You were in the school musical, weren’t you? I think it was Footloose.”
“Mhmm,” he saluted her, then realized what he was doing and clumsily stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I was casted as Ren.”
“Ren’s understudy, Hot Shot.” Hope patted his back, quick to shoot him down.
Landon flustered, and a small part of Josie enjoyed seeing Hope belittle his achievement.
“You still love me anyway,” he mused, sliding his hand into Hope’s. Josie’s heart plummeted at the declaration, choking on thin air.
Hope was seconds away from either affirming or denying that statement, but Josie would rather be run over by a bus then hear her sweetly agreeing. So she faked a look at her wrist—there wasn’t even anything there. “Would you look at the time? I just remembered Lizzie really needs me right now.”
Without receiving a response, she rushed around them, wondering why her eyes burned. It reminded her of when she had staring contests as a kid, the sensation causing tears to well up.
She didn't cry, but she felt like she was on the verge of something devastating.